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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-25 01:03:03 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-25 01:03:03 -0800 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fe11ae6 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69126 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69126) diff --git a/old/69126-0.txt b/old/69126-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 80b4128..0000000 --- a/old/69126-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13219 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The works of Mr. Thomas Brown, serious -and comical : in prose and verse, with his remains in four volumes -compleat; vol. II, by Thomas Brown - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The works of Mr. Thomas Brown, serious and comical : in prose and - verse, with his remains in four volumes compleat; vol. II - -Author: Thomas Brown - -Release Date: October 10, 2022 [eBook #69126] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF MR. THOMAS -BROWN, SERIOUS AND COMICAL : IN PROSE AND VERSE, WITH HIS REMAINS IN -FOUR VOLUMES COMPLEAT; VOL. II *** - - - - - - THE - SECOND VOLUME - OF THE - WORKS - OF - Mr. _Thomas Brown_. - - Containing - LETTERS - FROM THE - DEAD to the LIVING, - And from the - LIVING to the DEAD. - Together with - _Dialogues of the DEAD_, - After the Manner of LUCIAN. - - The Seventh Edition carefully Corrected. - - _LONDON_: - Printed by and for _Edward Midwinter_, at the - _Looking-Glass_ on _London-Bridge_. 1730. - - - - - THE - - WORKS - - OF - - Mr. _Thomas Brown_. - - - VOLUME the Second. - - [Illustration] - - - _LONDON_: Printed in the Year, 1727. - - - - - [Illustration] - - - - -The CONTENTS - -Of the Second Volume. - - -A _Letter of News from -Mr._ Joseph Haines, -_of Merry Memory, to his -Friends at_ Will’s Coffee-House -_in_ Covent-Garden Page 1 - -_The Answer_ 18 - -Scarron _to_ Lewis XIV. 21 - -Hannibal _to P._ Eugene 33 - -Pindar _to_ Tom Durfey 34 - -James II. _to_ Lewis XIV. 35 - -_The Answer_ 38 - -Julian _to_ Will. Pierre 41 - -_The Answer_ 44 - -Antiochus _to_ Lewis XIV. 48 - -_The Answer_ 50 - -Catherine de Medicis _to the -Duchess of_ Orleans 52 - -_The Answer_ 54 - -_Cardinal_ Mazarine _to the -Marquis_ de Barbisieux 55 - -_The Answer_ 57 - -Mary I. _to the Pope_ 58 - -_The Answer_ 60 - -Harlequin _to_ le Chaise 61 - -_The Answer_ 63 - -_Duke of_ Alva _to the Clergy -of_ France 64 - -_The Answer_ 66 - -Philip _of_ Austria _to the_ Dauphin 67 - -_The Answer_ 69 - -Juvenal _to_ Boileau 70 - -_The Answer_ 72 - -Diana _of_ Poictiers _to Madam_ -Maintenon 74 - -_The Answer_ 76 - -Hugh Spencer _junr. to all -Favourites, &c._ 77 - -_The Answer_ 79 - -Julia _to the Princess of_ -Conti 80 - -_The Answer_ 83 - -Dionysius _junr. to all Favourites, -&c._ 85 - -_The Answer_ 87 - -Christiana _Queen of_ Sweden, -_to the Ladies_ 88 - -_The Answer_ 91 - -Dr. Francis Rabelais _to the -Physicians_ 93 - -_The Answer_ 96 - -_Duchess of_ Fontagne _to the_ -Cumean _Sybil_ 97 - -_The Answer_ 99 - -_The Mitred Hog_ 101 - -_Beau_ Norton _to the Beaux_ 118 - -Perkin Warbeck _to the pretended -Prince of Wales_ 123 - -Dryden _to the Lord_ -- 124 - -Cowley _to the_ Covent Garden -_Society_ 125 - -Charon _to_ Jack Catch 126 - -_Sir_ Bartholomew Shower _to -Serjeant S--_ 127 - -Jo. Haines’_s_ 2d _Letter_ 132 - -_Sir_ Fleetwood Shepherd _to -Mr._ Prior 153 - -_The Answer_ 156 - -Pomigny _of_ Auvergne _to -Mr._ Abel _the singing -Master_ 157 - -_The Answer_ 160 - -_Signor_ Nichola _to Mr._ Buckly -_at the Swan Coffee-House -in_ Bloomsbury 162 - -Ignatius Loyola _to the Archbishop -of_ Toledo 163 - -_Alderman_ Floyer _to Sir_ -Humphry Edwin 165 - -_Sir_ John Norris, _Q._ Elizabeth’s -_General, to Sir_ -Henry Bellasis _and Sir_ -Charles Hara 167 - -_Duke of_ Medina Sidonia _to -Mons._ Chateau Renault 170 - -Marcellinus _to Mons._ Boileau 172 - -Cornelius Gallus _to the Lady_ -Dilliana 176 - -_Bully_ Dawson _to Bully_ Watson 179 - -_The Answer_ 192 - -Nell Gwinn _to_ Peg Hughes 201 - -_The Answer_ 202 - -Hugh Peters _to_ Daniel Burgess 204 - -_The Answer_ 211 - -Ludlow _to the Calves-Head -Club_ 214 - -_The Answer_ 216 - -Naylor _to the_ Quakers 219 - -_The Answer_ 223 - -Lilly _to_ Cooley 226 - -_The Answer_ 230 - -Tony Lee _to_ Cave Underhill 233 - -_The Answer_ 236 - -_Alderman_ Blackwell _to Sir_ -C. Duncombe 237 - -_The Answer_ 241 - -Henry Purcell _to Dr._ Blow 245 - -_The Answer_ 247 - -_Mrs._ Behn _to the Virgin -Actress_ 250 - -_The Answer_ 254 - -_Madam_ Creswell _to_ Moll -Quarles 257 - -_The Answer_ 262 - -Jo. Haines’s _third Letter_ 267 - -Certamen Epistolare _between -an Attorney of_ Clifford’s-Inn -_and a dead Parson -from_ Page 290 _to_ Page 305 - -_Dialogues of the Dead from_ Page 306 to the end. - -[Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -LETTERS - -FROM THE - -DEAD to the LIVING. - - - - -PART I. - - - - - _A_ Letter _of News from Mr._ JOSEPH HAINES, _of Merry Memory, to - his Friends at_ Will_’s Coffee-House in_ Covent-Garden. _By Mr._ - THO. BROWN. - - -_Gentlemen_, - -I Had done myself the honour to write to you long ago, but wanted a -convenience of sending my letter; for you must not imagine ’tis as easy -a matter for us on this side the river _Styx_, to maintain a -correspondence with you in the upper world, as ’tis to send a pacquet -from _London_ to _Rotterdam_, or from _Paris_ to _Madrid_: But upon the -news of a fresh war ready to break out in your part of the world, -(which, by the by, makes us keep holy-day here in hell) _Pluto_ having -thought fit to dispatch an extraordinary messenger to see how your -parliament, upon whose resolutions the fate of _Europe_ seems wholly to -depend, will behave themselves in this critical conjuncture. I tipp’d -the fellow a George to carry this letter for me, and leave it with the -master at _Will_’s in his way to _Westminster_. - -I am not insensible, gentlemen, that _Homer_, _Virgil_, _Dante_, Don -_Quevedo_, and many more before me, have given an account of these -subterranean dominions, for which reason it may look like affectation or -vanity in me to meddle with a subject so often handled; but if new -travels into _Italy_, _Spain_ and _Germany_, are daily read with -approbation, because new matters of enquiry and observation perpetually -arise, I don’t see why the present state of the _Plutonian_ kingdoms may -not be acceptable, there having been as great changes and alterations in -these infernal regions, as in any other part of the universe whatever. - -When I shook hands with your upper hemisphere, I stumbled into a dark, -uncouth, dismal lane, which, if it be lawful to compare great things -with small, somewhat resembles that dusky dark cut under the mountains -called the _grotto_ of _Puzzoli_ in the way to _Naples_. I was in so -great a consternation, that I don’t remember exactly how long it was, -but this I remember full well, that there were a world of ditches on -both sides of the wall, adorned and furnished with harpies, gorgons, -centaurs, chimeras, and such like pretty curiosities, which could not -but give a man a world of titillation as he traveled on the road. The -three-headed _Gerion_, put me in mind of the master of the _Temple_’s -three intellectual minds, and when I saw _Briares_ with his hundred arms -and hands, out of my zeal to king _William_ and his government, I could -not but wish that we had so well qualify’d a person for secretary of -state ever since the Revolution; for having so many heads and hands to -employ, he might easily have managed all affairs domestick and foreign, -and been both dictator and clerk to himself. Which besides the advantage -of keeping secret all orders and instructions, (and that you know, -gentlemen, is of no small importance in politicks) would have saved his -majesty no inconsiderable sum in his civil list. - -Being arrived at the end of this doleful and execrable lane, I came into -a large open, barren plain, thro’ which ran a river, whose water was as -black as my hat: Coming to the banks of this wonderful river, an old -ill-look’d wrinkl’d fellow in a tatter’d boat, which did not seem to be -worth a groat, making towards the shoar, beckon’d, and held out his -right-hand to me: Knowing nothing of his business or character, I could -not imagine what he meant by doing so; but upon second thoughts, -thinking he had a mind to have his fortune told, _You must understand, -old gentleman_, says I to him, _that there are three principal lines in -a man’s hand, the first of which is called by the learned_ Ludovicus -Vives, _Secretary to_ Tamerlain _the magnificent, the_ linea boetica, -_line of life; the second, the_ linea hepatica, _or liver line; the -third and last, the_ linea intercalaris, _so call’d by_ Sebastian -Munster _and_ Erra Pater, _because it crosses the two aforesaid lines in -an equicrural parabola_. Hold your impertinent stuff, says the old -ferryman, _erra_ me no _erra paters_, but speak to the point, and give -me my fare, if you design to come over. By this I perceiv’d my mistake, -and knew him to be _Charon_: So I dived into my pockets, but alas! I -found all the birds were flown, if ever any had been there, which you -may believe, gentlemen, was no small mortification to me. Get you gone -for a rascally scoundrel as you are, says _Charon_, some son of whore of -a fiddler, or player, I warrant you; go and take up your quarters with -those pennyless rogues that are sunning themselves on yonder hillock. To -see now how a man may be mistaken by a fair outside! when I came up to -’em, I found them a parcel of jolly well-look’d fellows, who, one would -have thought were wealthy enough to have fined for sheriffs: I counted, -let me see, six princes of the empire that were younger brothers, ten -_French_ counts, fourteen knights of _Malta_, twelve _Welsh_ gentlemen, -sixteen _Scotch_ lairds, with abundance of chymists, projectors, -insurers, noblemens creditors, and the like; that were all wind-bound -for want of the ready _rhino_. Two days we continued in this doleful -condition; and as Dr. _Sherlock_ says of himself, in relation to the -13th chapter of the _Romans_, _here I stuck, and had stuck till the last -conflagration, if it had not been for bishop_ Overall_’s -Convocation-Book_; e’en so here we might have tarry’d world without end, -if an honest teller of the _Exchequer_, and a clerk of the _pay-office_, -had not come to our relief; who understanding our case, cry’d out, -_Come along, gentlemen, we have money enough to defray twenty such -trifles as this; God be prais’d, we had the good luck to die before the -parliament looked into our accounts_. With that they gave _Charon_ a -broad-piece each of ’em, so our whole caravan consisting of about 70 -persons in all, that had not a farthing in the world to bless -themselves, ferry’d over to the other side of the river. - -As we were crossing the stream, _Charon_ told us how an _Irish_ captain -would have trick’d him. He came strutting down to the river-side, says -he, as fine as a prince, in a long scarlet cloak, all bedaub’d with -silver lace, but had not a penny about him. _Dear joy_, crys he to me, -_I came away in a little haste from the other world, and left my -breeches behind me, but I’ll make thee amends by Chreest and St._ -Patrick, _for I’ll refresh thy antient nostrils with some of_ -Hippolito_’s best snuff, which cost me a week ago, a crown an ounce_. I -told the _Hibernian_, that old birds were not to be taken with chaff, -nor _Charon_ to be banter’d out of his due with a little dust of -sot-weed; and giving him a reprimand with my stretcher over the noddle, -bid him go, like a coxcomb as he was, about his business. The wretch -santer’d about the banks for a month, but at last, pretended to be a -_Frenchman_, got over gratis this summer, among the duke of _Orlean_’s -retinue. But what was the most surprizing piece of news I ever heard, -_Charon_ assured us, upon his veracity, that the late king of _Spain_ -was forc’d to lie by full a fortnight, for want of money to carry him -over; for cardinal _Portocarero_ had been so busy in forging his will, -that he had forgot to leave the poor monarch a farthing in his pocket; -and that at last, one of his own grandees, coming by that way, was so -complaisant as to defray his prince’s passage; and well he might, says -our surly ferryman, for in five years time he had cheated him of two -millions. - -We were no sooner landed on the other side of the river, but some of us -fil’d off to the right, and others to the left, as their business called -them: For my part, I made the best of my way to the famous city -_Brandinopolis_, seated upon the river _Phlegethon_, as being a place of -the greatest commerce and resort in all king _Pluto_’s dominions. Who -should I meet upon the road but my old friend said acquaintance Mr. -_Nokes_, the comedian, who received me with all imaginable love and -affection? Mr. _Haines_, says he, _I am glad with all my heart to see -you in Hell_; upon my salvation, we have expected you here this great -while, and I question not but our royal master will give you a reception -befitting a person of your extraordinary merit. Mr. _Nokes_, said I, -_Your most obedient servant_, you are pleas’d to compliment, but I know -no other merit I have, but that of being honour’d with your friendship. -_But my dear_ Jo., cries he, _how go affairs in Covent-Garden?_ Does -cuckoldom flourish, and fornication maintain its ground still against -the reformers? And the play-house in _Drury-Lane_, is it as much -frequented as it us’d to be? I had no sooner given him a satisfactory -answer to these questions, but we found ourselves in the suburbs; so my -friend _Nokes_, with that gaity and openness, which became him so well -at the play-house, _Jo._, says he, I’ll give thee thy welcome to Hell; -with that he carry’d me to a little blind coffee-house, in the middle of -a dirty alley, but certainly one of the worst furnish’d tenements I ever -beheld: there was nothing to be seen but a few broken pipes, two or -three founder’d chairs, and bare naked walls, with not so much as a -superannuated almanack, or tatter’d ballad to keep ’em in countenance; -so that I could not but fancy myself in some of love’s little -tabernacles about _Wildstreet_, or _Drury-Lane_. Come, Mr. _Haines_, and -what are you disposed to drink? What you please, Sir. Here, madam, give -the gentleman a glass of _Geneva_. As soon as I had whipp’d it down, my -friend _Nokes_ plucking me by the sleeve, and whispering me in the ear, -prithee _Jo._, who dost think that lady at the bar is? I consider’d her -very attentively, by the same token she was three times as ugly as my -lady _Frightall_, countess of ---- and three times as thick and bulky as -Mrs. _Pix_ the poetress, and very fairly told him, I knew her not. Why -then I shall surprize you. This is the famous _Semiramis_. The Devil she -is! answer’d I: What is this the celebrated and renowned queen of -_Babylon_, she that built those stupendious walls and pensile gardens, -of which antient historians tell us so many miracles; that victorious -_heroine_, who eclipsed the triumphs of her illustrious husband; that -added _Æthiopia_ to her empire; and was the wonder as well as the -ornament of her sex? Is it possible she should fall so low as to be -forced to sell _Geneva_, and such ungodly liquors for a subsistence? -’Tis e’en so, says Mr. _Nokes_, and this may serve as a lesson of -instruction to you, that when once death has laid his icy paws upon us, -all other distinctions of fortune and quality immediately vanish. These -words were no sooner out of his mouth, but in came a formal old -gentleman, and plucking a large wooden box from under his cloak, _Will -you have any fine snuff_, gentlemen, _here is the finest snuff in the -universe_, gentlemen; _a never failing remedy_, gentlemen, _against the -megrims and head-ach_. And who do you take this worthy person to be? -says Mr. _Nokes_, But that I am in this lower world, cry’d I, I durst -swear ’tis the very individual quaker that sells his herb-snuff at the -_Rainbow_ coffee-house. Damnably mistaken, says Mr. _Nokes_, before -_George_, no less a man than the great _Cyrus_, the first founder of the -_Persian_ monarchy. I was going to bless myself at this discovery, when -a jolly red-nos’d woman in a straw-hat popt into the room, and in a -shrill treble cry’d out, _Any buckles, combs or scissars_, gentlemen, -_and tooth-picks, bottle-screws or twizers, silver buttons or -tobacco-stoppers_, gentlemen; well now, my worthy friend, Mr. _Haines_, -who do you think this to be? The Lord knows, reply’d I, for here are -such an unaccountable choppings and changings among you that the Devil -can’t tell what to make of ’em. Why then, in short, this is the virtuous -_Thalestris_, Queen of the _Amazons_, the same numerical princess, that -beat the hoof so many hundred leagues to get _Alexander_ the Great to -administer his royal nipple to her. But _Jo._ since I find thee so -affected at these alterations that have happen’d to persons who lived so -many hundred years ago, I am resolv’d to shew thee some of a more modern -date, and particularly of such as either thou wast acquainted with in -the other world, or at lead hast often heard mention’d in company. So -calling for the other glass of _Geneva_, he left a tester at the bar, -and _Semiramis_, to shew her courtly breeding, dropp’d us abundance of -curtesies, and paid us as much respect at our coming out, as your -two-penny _French_ barbers in _Soho_ do to a gentleman that gives them a -brace of odd half-pence above the original contract in their sign. - -[Illustration: _The Pall Mall of Brandipolis._ - - _Vol. II P. 7_ -] - -We walk’d thro’ half a dozen streets without meeting any thing worthy of -observation. At last my friend _Nokes_, pointed to a little edifice, -which exactly resembles Dr. _Burgess_’s conventicle in _Russel-Court_; -says he, your old acquaintance _Tony Lee_, who turn’d presbyterian -parson, upon his coming into these quarters, holds forth most notably -here every _Sunday_; _Jacob Hall_ and _Jevon_ are his clerks, and chant -it admirably. Mother _Stratford_, the duchess of _Mazarine_, my lord -_Warwick_, and Sir _Fleetwood_, are his constant hearers; and to -_Tony_’s everlasting honour be it spoken, he delivers his fire and -brimstone with so good a grace, splits his text so judiciously, turns up -the whites of his eyes so theologically, cuffs his cushion so -orthodoxly, and twirls his band-strings so primitively, that _Pluto_ has -lately made him one of his chaplains in ordinary. From this we crossed -another street, which one may properly enough call the _Bow-street_, or -_Pall-Mall_ of _Brandinopolis_. No sawcy tradesman or mechanick dares -presume to live here, but ’tis wholly inhabited by fine gaudy fluttering -sparks, and fine airy ladies; who in no respect are inferior to yours in -_Covent-Garden_. When the sky is serene, and not a breath of wind -stirring, you may see whole covies of them displaying their finery in -the street; but at other times you never see ’em our of a chair, for -fear of discomposing their commodes or periwigs. We had not gone twenty -paces, before we met three flaming beaux of the first magnitude, the -like of whom we never saw at the _Vourthoot_ at the _Hague_, the -_Tuilleries_ at _Paris_, or the _Mall_ in St. _James_’s-park. They were -all three in black (for you must know we are in deep mourning here for -the death of my lady _Proserpine_’s favourite monkey) but he in the -middle, tho’ he had neither face nor shape to qualify him for a gallant: -for he had a phyz as forbidden as beau _Whitaker_, and was as thick -about the waste, as the fat squab porter at the _Griffin_-tavern in -_Fuller’s-Rents_, yet he made a most magnificent figure: His periwig was -large enough to have loaded a camel, and he had, bestowed upon it at -least a bushel of powder, I warrant you. His sword-knot dangled upon the -ground, and his steenkirk that was most agreeably discolour’d with snuff -from top to bottom, reach’d down to his waste; he carry’d his hat under -his left-arm, walk’d with both his hands in the wastband of his -breeches, and his cane that hung negligently down in a string from his -right-arm, trail’d most harmoniously against the pebbles, while the -master of it, tripping it nicely upon his toes, was humming to himself, - - _Oh, ye happy happy groves,_ - _Witness of our tender loves._ - -Having given you this description of him, I need not trouble myself to -enlarge upon the dress of his two companions, who, tho’ they fell much -short of his inimitable original in point of garniture and dress, yet -they were singular enough to have drawn the eyes of men, women and -children after ’em in any part of _Europe_. As I observed this sight -with a great deal of admiration, Mr. _Nokes_ very gravely asked me, who -I took the middlemost person to be; upon my telling him I had never seen -him before, nor knew a syllable of him or his private history; why, says -Mr. _Nokes_, this is _Diogenes_ the famous cynic philosopher, and his -two companions are _George Fox_ and _James Naylor_ the quakers. -_Diogenes_, reply’d I to him, why he was one of the arrantest slovens in -all _Greece_, and a profess’d enemy to laundresses, for he never parted -with his shirt, ’till his shirt parted with him. No matter for that, -says Mr. _Nokes_, the case is alter’d now with him, for he has the -vanity and affectation of twenty Sir _Courtly Nice_’s blended together; -he constantly dispatches a courier to _Lisbon_ every month, to bring him -a cargo of _Limons_ to wash his hands with; he sends to _Montpelier_ for -_Hungary_-water; _Turin_ furnishes him with _Rosa Solis_; _Nismes_ with -_Eau de Conelle_, and _Paris_ with _Ratifia_ to settle his maw in the -morning. Nothing will go down with him but _Ortolans_, _Snipes_, and -_Woodcocks_; and _Matson_, that some years ago liv’d at the _Rummer_ in -_Queen-street_, is the administrator of his kitchen. This, said I to -him, is the most phantastick change I have seen since my passing the -_Styx_: for who the plague wou’d have believ’d that that antient quaker -_Diogenes_, and those modern cynicks, _Fox_ and _Naylor_, should -degenerate so much from their primitive institution, as to set up for -fops? When we came up to ’em, _Diogenes_ gave us a most gracious bow, -but those two everlasting complimenters, his friends, I was afraid -wou’d have murder’d me with their civilities; for which reason I -disingaged myself from ’em something abruptly, by the same token I -overheard _James Naylor_ call me _bougre insulare_ and _tramontane_, for -my ill manners. - -When the coast was clear of ’em, says I to my _Nokes_, every thing is so -turned topsy-turvy here with you, that I can hardly resolve myself -whether I walk upon my head or my feet: right, Mr. _Haines_, says he, -but time is precious; so let’s mend our pace if you please, that we may -see all the curiosities of this renowned city before ’tis dark. - -The next street we came into, we saw a tall thin-gutted mortal driving a -wheel-barrow of pears before him, and crying in a hoarse tone, _pears -twenty a penny_; looking him earnestly in the face, I presently knew him -to be beau _Heveiningham_, but I found he was shy, and so took no -further notice of him. Not ten doors from hence, says Mr. _Nokes_, lives -poor _Norton_, that shot himself. I ask’d him in what quality, he -answered me, as a sub-operator to a disperser of darkness, _anglicè_, a -journeyman to a tallow-chandler. I would willingly have made him a short -visit, but was intercepted in my design by a brace of fellows that were -link’d to their good behaviour, like a pair of _Spanish_ galley-slaves; -tho’ they agreed as little as _Jowler_ and _Ringwood_ coupled together, -for one of ’em lugg’d one away, and his brother the other. I soon knew -them to be _Dick Baldwin_, the whig-bookseller, and _Mason_ the -non-swearing parson, whom, as I was afterwards informed, judge _Minos_, -had order’d to be yoak’d thus, to be a mutual plague and punishment to -one another. Both of ’em made up to us as hard as they could drive. -_Well, Sir, says the_ Levite, _what comfortable news do you bring from -St._ Germains? _Our old friend_ Lewis le Grand _is well I hope. Damn_ -Lewis le Grand, _and all his adherents, cries_ Dick Baldwin. _Pray Sir, -what racy touches of scandal have been publish’d of late_, by my worthy -friends, _Sam. Johnson_, Mr. _Tutchin_, and honest Mr. _Atwood_; and the -gallows that groan’d so long for _Robin Hog_ the messenger, when is it -like to lose its longing? Have no fresh batteries attack’d the court -lately from honest Mr. _Darby_’s in _Bartholomew-Close_? And prithee -what new piracies from the quakers at the _Pump_ in _Little-Britain_? -What new whales, devils, ghosts, murders; from _Wilkins_ in the -_Fryars_? But above all, dear Sir, of what kidney are the present -sheriffs; and particularly my lord-mayor, how stands he affected? Why -_Dick_, says I to him, fearing to be stunn’d with more interrogatories, -tho’ most of the folks I have seen here are changed either for the -better or the worse, yet I find thou art the true, primitive, busy, -pragmatical, prating, muttering _Dick Baldwin_ still, and will be so to -the end of the chapter. In the name of the three furies, what should -make thee trouble thyself about sheriffs and lord-mayor? But thou art of -the same foolish belief, I find, with thy brother coxcombs at _North_’s -coffee-house, who think all the fate of christendom depends upon the -choice of a lord-mayor; whereas to talk of things familiarly, and as we -ought to do, what is this two-legg’d animal ycleped a lord-mayor, but a -certain temporary machine of the city’s setting up, who on certain -appointed days is oblig’d to ride on horse-back to please the -_Cheapside_ wives, who must scuffle his way thro’ so many furlongs of -custard, who is only terrible to delinquent-bakers, oyster-women, and -scavengers; and has no other privilege above his brethren, as I know of, -but that of taking a comfortable nap in his gold chain at _Paul_’s or -_Salter’s-Hall_; to either of which places his conscience, that is, his -interest, carries him. Surly _Dick_ was going to say something in -defence of the city magistrate, but my brother _Nokes_ and I prevented -him, by calling to the next hackney coachman, whom, to my great -surprise, I found to be the famous Dr. _Busby_ of _Westminster_-school; -who now, instead of flogging boys, was content to act in an humbler -sphere, and exercise his lashing talent upon horses. We ordered him to -set us down at _Bedlam_, where my friend _Nokes_ assured me we should -find diversion enough, and the first person we met with in this -celebrated mansion, was the famous queen _Dido_ of _Carthage_, supported -by the ingenious Mrs. _Behn_ on the one side, and the learned -_Christiana_, queen of _Sweden_, on the other. _Gentlemen_, cry’d she, -_I conjure you, by that respect which is due to truth, and by that -complaisance which is owing to us of the fair sex, to believe none of -those idle lies that_ Virgil _hath told of me. That impudent versifyer -has given out, that I murder’d myself for the sake of his pious_ -Trojan, _the hero of his romance; whereas I declare to you, gentlemen, -as I hope to be sav’d, that I never saw the face of that fugitive -scoundrel in my life, but dy’d in my bed with as much decency and -resignation as any woman in the parish: but what touches my honour most -of all, is that most horrid calumny of my being all alone with_ Æneas -_in the cave_. Upon this I humbly remonstrated to her majesty, that -altho’ _Virgil_ had taken the liberty to leave her and his pious -_Trojan_ in a grotto together, yet he no where insinuated that any thing -criminal had passed between ’em. How, says Mr. _Behn_, in a fury, was it -not scandal enough in all conscience, to say that a man and a woman were -in a dark blind cavern by themselves? What tho’ there was no such -convenience as a bed or a couch in the room; nay, not so much as a -broken-back’d chair, yet I desire you to tell me, sweet Mr. _Haines_, -what other business can a man and a woman have in the dark together, -but----. Ay, cries the queen of _Sweden_, what other business can a man -and a woman have in the dark, but, as the fellow says in the _Moor of -Venice_, to make the beast with two backs? not to pick straws I hope, or -to tell tales of a tub. Under favour, ladies, reply’d I, ’tis impossible -I should think, for a grave sober man, and a woman of discretion, to -pass a few hours alone, without carrying matters so far home as you -insinuate. What in the dark? cries queen _Dido_, that’s mine a ---- in a -band-box. Let peoples inclinations be never so modest and virtuous, yet -this cursed darkness puts the devil and all of wickedness into their -heads: the man will be pushing on his side, that’s certain; and as for -the woman, I’ll swear for her, that when no body can see her blush, she -will be consenting. In fine, tho’ the soul be never so well fortify’d to -hold out a siege, yet the body, as soon as love’s artillery begins to -play upon it, it will soon beat a parley, and make a separate treaty for -itself. - -Thus her _Punick_ majesty ran on, and the Lord knows when her royal -clack would have done striking, if a female messenger had not come to -her in the nick of time, and whisper’d her in the ear, to go to the -famous _Lucretia_’s crying-out, who, it seems, was got with child upon a -hay-cock, by _Æsop_ the fabulist. As soon as queen _Dido_ and her two -prattling companions were gone out of the room, Mr. _Nokes_, says I, you -have without question seen _Æsop_ very often, therefore pray let me beg -the favour of you, to tell me whether he is such a deformed ill-favoured -wight, as the historians represent him; for you must know we have a -modern critick of singular humanity, near St. _James_’s, that has been -pleased, in some late dissertation upon _Phalaris_’s epistles, to -maintain that he was a well-shap’d, handsome gentleman; and for a proof -of this, insists much upon _Æsop_’s intriguing with his fellow-slave, -the beautiful _Rhodope_. No, no, replies Mr. _Nokes_, _Æsop_ is just -such a crumpled hump-shoulder’d dog, for all the world, as you see him -before _Ogilby_’s translation of his fables; and let the above-mentioned -grammarian, I think they call him, Dr. _Bentivolio_, say what he will to -the contrary, ’tis even so as I tell you. And now, we are upon the -chapter of Dr. _Bentivolio_; about a month ago I happen’d to make merry -over a bowl of punch with _Phalaris_ the _Sicilian_ tyrant, who swore by -all that was good and sacred, that he would trounce the unmannerly slave -for robbing him of those epistles, which have gone unquestion’d under -his name for so many ages: but the time is coming, said he, when I shall -make this impudent pedant cry _peccavi_ for the unworthy treatment he -has given me: I have my brazen-bull, heaven be prais’d, ready for him, -and as soon as he comes into these quarters, will shut him up in it, and -roast him with his own dull volumes, and those of his dearly beloved -friends the _Dutch_ commentators. - -By this time we were got to the upper end of the room, when, says Mr. -_Nokes_ to me, I will shew you a most surprising sight. You must know -this place, like _Noah_’s ark, contains beasts of all sorts and sizes; -some have their brains turn’d by politicks, who, except some three or -four that are suffer’d to go abroad with a keeper, are lock’d up in a -large apartment up stairs. These puppies rave eternally about liberty -and property, and the _jura populi_, and are so damn’d mischievous, that -it is dangerous to venture near them. _England_ sends more of this sort -to _Bedlam_, than all the countries of _Europe_ besides. Others again -have their intellects fly-blown by love, by the same token that most of -the poor wretches that are in this doleful predicament come out of -_France_, _Spain_, _Italy_, and such hot climates. Now and then, indeed, -we have a silly apprentice or so, takes a leap from _London-Bridge_ into -the _Thames_, or decently hangs himself in a garret, in his mistress’s -garters, but these accidents happen but seldom; and besides, since -fornication has made so great a progress among us, love is observed not -to operate so powerfully in _England_ as it formerly did, when there was -no relief against him but matrimony. Some again have their _pia mater_ -addled by their religion, but neither are the sots of this species so -numerous in _Britain_, or elsewhere, as they were in the days of yore; -for the priests of most religions have play’d their game so aukwardly, -that not one man in a thousand will trust them with shuffling of the -cards. - -But of all the various sorts of mad-men that come hither, the rhimers or -versifyers far exceed the rest in number: most of these fellows in the -other world were mayors, or aldermen, or deputies of wards, that knew -nothing but the rising and falling of stocks, squeezing young heirs, and -cheating their customers: but now the tables are turn’d, for they eat -and drink, nay, sleep and dream in rhime, and have a distich to -discharge at you upon every occasion. With that he open’d the wicket of -the uppermost door, and bid me peep in. ’Tis impossible to describe to -you the surprize I was in, to see so many of my city acquaintance there, -whom I should sooner have suspected of burglary or sacrilege, than of -tacking a pair of rhimes together: but it seems this is a judgment upon -these wretches, for the aversion they have to the muses when they are -living. The walls were lined with verses from top to bottom, and happy -was the wretch that could get a bit of charcoal to express the happiness -of his fancy upon the poor plaister. The first man I saw was Sir _John -Peak_, formerly lord-mayor of _London_, who bluntly came up to the door, -and asked me what was rhime to _Crambo_? Immediately Sir _Thomas -Pilkington_ popp’d over his shoulder, and pray friend, says he, for I -perceive you are newly come from the other world, how go the affairs of -_Parnassus_? What new madrigals, epithilamiums, sonnets, epigrams, and -satires, have you brought with you? What pretty conceits had Mr. -_Settle_ in his last _London_ triumphs? What plays have taken of late? -Mrs. _Bracegirdle_, doth she live still unmarried? And pray, Sir, how -doth Mr. _Betterton_’s lungs hold out? But now I think on’t, I have a -delicious copy of verses to shew you, upon the divine _Melesinda_’s -frying of pancakes, only stay a minute, while I step yonder to fetch -’em: he had no sooner turn’d his back, but I pluck’d too the wicket, and -gave him the slip; for certainly of all the plagues in hell, or t’other -side of it, nothing comes up to that of a confounded repeater. Leaving -these versifying insects to themselves, we walked up a pair of stairs -into the upper room, one end of which was the quarter for distracted -lovers, as the other was for the lunatick republicans. I just cast my -eyes into _Cupid_’s _Bear-Garden_, and observed that the walls were all -adorned with mysterious hieroglyphicks of love, as hearts transfixed, -and abundance of odd-fashion’d battering rams, such as young lovers use -to trace upon the cieling of a coffee-house with the smoke of a candle. -Some half a score of ’em were making to the door, but having seen enough -of these impertinents in the other world, I had no great inclination to -suffer a new persecution from ’em in this. So my friend and I turn’d up -to the apartment where the republicans were lock’d up, who made such a -hurricane and noise, as if a legion of devils had been broke loose among -them. _Harrington_, I remember, was the most unruly of the whole pack. -Thanks to my friends in _London_, says he, I hear my _Oceana_ is lately -reprinted, and furbish’d with a new dedication to those judicious and -worthy gentlemen, my lord-mayor and court of aldermen, by Mr. _Toland_. -You need not value yourself so much upon that, says _Algernoon Sidney_, -for my works were published there long before yours. And so were mine, -cries _Milton_, at the expence of some worthy patriots, that were not -afraid to publish them under a monarchical government. But what think -you of my memoirs, cries _Ludlow_, for if you talk of histories, there’s -a history for you, which, for sincerity and truth, never saw its fellow -since the creation. Upon this the uproar began afresh, so thinking it -high time to withdraw, I jogg’d my friend _Nokes_ by the elbow, and as -we went down stairs told him, that _Pluto_ was certainly in the right -on’t, to lock up these hot-headed mutineers by themselves, allow them -neither pen, ink, fire, nor candle; for should he give them leave to -propagate their seditious doctrines, he would only find himself king of -_Erebus_, at the courtesy of his loving subjects. - -Just as we were going out of this famous edifice; I have an odd piece of -news to tell you, says Mr. _Nokes_, which is, that altho’ we have men of -all countries, more or less here, yet there never was one _Irishman_ in -it. How comes that about, I beseech you? said I to him. Why, replies he, -madness always supposes a loss of reason; but the duce is in’t if a man -can lose that which he never possess’d in his life. Oh your humble -servant, answer’d I, ’tis well none of our swaggering Dear Joys in -_Covent-Garden_ hear you talk so, for if they did, ten to one but they -would cut your throat for this reflection upon the intellects of their -country, and send you to the Devil for the honour of St. _Patrick_. - -When we came out into the open air again, and had taken half a dozen -turns in the neighbouring fields, Mr. _Nokes_, says I, ’tis my -misfortune to come in this place without a farthing of money in my -pocket, and _Alecto_ confound me, if I know what course to take for my -maintenance, therefore I would desire you to put me in a way. Have no -care for that, says Mr. _Nokes_, his infernal majesty is very kind and -obliging to us players, and because we act so many different parts in -the other world, as kings, princes, bishops, privy-counsellors, beaux, -cits, sailors, and the like, gives us leave to fellow what profession we -have most a fancy to. For my part, I keep a nicknackatory, or toy-shop, -as I formerly did over against the _Exchange_, and turn a sweet penny by -it, for our gallants here throw away their money after a furious rate. -Now _Jo._ I think thou can’st not do better than to set up for a -_High-German_ fortune-teller; thou knowest all the cant and roguery of -that practice to perfection, and besides, has the best phiz in the world -to carry on such an affair. As for money to furnish thee an house, and -set up a convenient equipage, to buy thee a pair of globes, a magick -looking-glass, and all other accoutrements of that nature, thou shalt -command as much as thou hast occasion for. I was going to thank my -friend for so courteous an offer, when who should pop upon us on the -sudden, but his _Polish_ majesty’s physician in ordinary, the late -famous Dr. _Conner_ of _Bowstreet_, but in so wretched a pickle, so -tatter’d a condition, that I could hardly know him. How comes this -about, noble doctor, said I to him, what is fortune unkind, and do the -planets frown upon merit? I remember you were going to set up your -coach, and marry the widow _Bently_ in _Russel-street_, just before your -last distemper hurry’d you out of the world. Is it possible the learned -author of _Evangelium Medici_ should want bread? or, doctor, did you -leave all your _Hibernian_ confidence behind you! I thought a true -_Irishman_ could have made his fortune in any part of the universe. - - _Ille nihil, nec me quærentem vana moratur;_ - _Sed graviter gemitus imo de pectore ducens._ - -Mr. _Haines_, says he, _Pluto_, to say no worse of him, is very -ungrateful to the gentlemen of our faculty; and were he not a crown’d -head, I would not stick to call him a _Poltroon_. I am sure no body of -men cultivate his interest with more industry and success, than we -physicians. What would his dominions be but a bare wilderness and -solitude, if we did not daily take care to stock them with fresh -colonies? This I can say for myself, that I did not let him lose one -patient that fell into my hands; nay, rather than he should want -customers, I practised upon myself. But after the received maxim of most -princes, I find he loves the treason, and hates the traytor; so that no -people are put to harder shifts in hell, than the sons of _Galen_. Would -you believe it, Mr. _Haines_, the immortal Dr. _Willis_ is content to be -a flayer of dead horses; the famous _Harvey_ is turn’d higgler, and you -may see him ride every morning to market upon a pannier of eggs; -_Mayern_ is glad to be pimp to noblemen’s _valets de chambre_; old -_Glisson_ sells vinegar upon a lean scraggy tit; _Moreton_ is return’d -to his occupation, and preaches in a little conventicle you can hardly -swing a cat round in; _Lower_ sells penny prayer-books all the week, and -curls an _Amen_ in a meeting-house on sundays; _Needham_, in conjunction -with Capt. _Dawson_, is bully to a _Bordello_; and the celebrated -_Sydenham_ empties close-stools. As for myself, I am sometimes a small -retainer to a billiard-table; and sometimes, when the matter on’t is -sick, earn a penny by a whimsy-board. I lie with a link-man upon a -flock-bed in a garret, and have not seen a clean shirt upon my back -since I came into this cursed country. By my troth, said I, I am sorry -to hear matters go so scurvily with you; but pluck up a good heart, for -when the times are at worst they must certainly mend. But, pray doctor, -before you go any farther, satisfy me what church you dy’d a member of, -for we had the devil and all to do about you when you were gone. The -parson of St. _Giles_’s stood out stifly that you dy’d a sound -Protestant, but all your countrymen swore thou didst troop off like a -good Catholick. Why really _Jo._ cry’d the doctor, to deal plainly with -you, I don’t know well what religion I dy’d in; but if I dy’d in any, as -physicians you know seldom do, it was, as I take it, that of the Church -of _England_. I remember, indeed, when I grew light-headed, and the bed, -room, and every thing began to turn round with me, that a -forster-brother of mine, an _Irish_ Priest, offer’d me the civility of -_Extreme Unction_, and I that knew I had a long journey to go, thought -it would not be amiss to have my boots well liquor’d before-hand, tho’ -ofter all, for any good it did me, he might as well have rubb’d my -posteriors with a brick-bat. This is all I remember of the matter; but -what signifies it to the business we are talking of? In short, _Jo._ if -thou could’st put me in a way to live, I should be exceedingly beholden -to thee. Doctor, cry’d I, if you will come to me a week hence, something -may be done; for I intend to build me a stage in one of the largest -_Piazzas_ of this city, take me a fine house, and set up my old trade of -fortune-telling; and as I shall have occasion now and then for some -understrapper to draw teeth for me, or to be my toad-eater upon the -stage, if you will accept of so mean an employment, besides my old -cloaths, which will be something, I’ll give you meat, drink, washing, -and lodging, and four marks _per annum_. - -I am sensible, gentlemen, that I have tried your patience with a long -tedious letter, but not knowing when I should find so convenient an -opportunity to send another, I resolved to give you a full account in -this, of all the memorable things that fell within the compass of my -observation, during my short residence in this country. At present, -thanks to my kind stars, I live very comfortably; I keep my brace of -geldings, and half a dozen servants; my house is as well furnish’d as -most in this populous city; and to tell you what prodigious number of -persons of all ages, sexes and conditions flock daily to me, to have -their fortunes told, ’twould hardly find belief with you. If the -celestial phenomena’s deceive me not, and there is any truth in the -conjunction of _Mercury_ and _Luna_, I shall in a short time rout all -the pretenders to _Astrology_, who combine to ruin my reputation and -practice, but without effect; for this opposition has rather increased -my friends at court than lessen’d them. I am promised to be _maître des -langues_, to the young prince of Acheron, (so we call the heir apparent -to these subterranean dominions) and _Proserpine’s camariera major_ -assured me t’other morning, I should have the honour of teaching the -beautiful princess _Fuscamarilla_, his sister, to dance. Once more, -gentlemen, I beg your excuse for this prolix epistle, and hoping you -will order one of your fraternity to send me the news of your upper -world, I remain, - -_Your most obliged, -and most obedient Servant_, - -JO. HAINES. - -Dec. 21. -1701. - - - - - _An Answer to Mr._ JOSEPH HAINES, High-German _Astrologer, at the - sign of the_ Urinal _and_ Cassiopea’s Chair, _in_ Brandinopolis, - _upon_ Phlegethon. _By Mr._ BROWN. - - -_Worthy Sir_, - -We received your letter, dated _Dec. 21. 1701._ and read it yesterday in -a full assembly at _Will_’s. The whole company lik’d it exceedingly, and -return you their thanks for the ample and satisfactory account you have -given them of _Pluto_’s dominions, from which we have had little or no -news, however it has happened, since the famous _Don Quevedo_ had the -curiosity to travel thither. - -Whereas you desire us, by way of exchange, to furnish you with some of -the most memorable transactions that have lately fallen out in this part -of the globe; we willingly comply with your proposal, and are proud of -any opportunity to shew Mr. _Haines_ how much we respect and value him. - -_Imprimis_, _Will_’s coffee-house, Mr. _Haines_, is much in the same -condition, as when you left it; and as a worthy gentleman has lately -distributed them into their proper classes, we have four sorts of -persons that resort hither; first, Such as are beaux and no wits, and -these are easy to be known by their full periwigs and empty sculls; -secondly, Such as are wits and no beaux, and these, not to talk of their -out-sides, are distinguish’d by censuring the ill taste of the age, and -railing at one another; thirdly, Such as are neither wits nor beaux, I -mean your grave plodding politicians that come to us every night piping -hot from the parliament-house, and finish treaties that were never -thought of, and end wars before they are begun; and fourthly, Such as -are both wits and beaux, to whose persons, as well as merits, you can be -no stranger. - -In the next place, the Playhouse stands exactly where it did. Mr. _Rich_ -finds some trouble in managing his mutinous subjects, but ’tis no more -than what princes must expect to find in a mixt monarchy, as we take the -Playhouse to be. The actors jog on after the old merry rate, and the -women drink and intrigue. Mr. _Clinch_ of _Barnet_, with his pack of -dogs and organ, comes now and then to their relief; and your friend Mr. -_Jevon_ would hang himself, to see how much the famous Mr. _Harvey_ -exceeds him in the ladder-dance. - -We have had an inundation of plays lately, and one of them, by a great -miracle, made shift to hold out a full fortnight. The generality are -either troubled with convulsion-fits, and die the first day of the -representation, or by meer dint of acting, hold out to the third; which -is like a consumptive man’s living by cordials, or else die a violent -death, and are interr’d with the solemnity of catcalls. A merry -virtuoso, who makes one of the congregation _de propagando ingenio_, -designs to publish a weekly bill for the use of the two theatres, in -imitation of that published by the parish clerks, and faithfully to set -down what distemper every new play dies of. - -If the author of a play strains hard for wit, and it drivels drop by -drop from him, he says it is troubled with a strangury. If it is vicious -in the design and performance, and dull throughout, he intends to give -it out in his bill, that it died by a knock in the cradle; if it -miscarries for want of fine scenes, and due acting, why then he says, -’tis starv’d at nurse; if it expires the first or second day he reckons -it among the abortive; and lastly, if it is damn’d for the feebleness of -its satire, he says it dies in breeding of teeth. - -As our _wit_, generally speaking is debauch’d, so our wine, the parent -of it, is sophisticated all over the _town_; and as we never had more -_plays_ in the _two houses_, and more wine in city than at present, so -we were never encumber’d with worse of the two sorts than now. As for -the latter, we sell that for claret which has not a drop of the juice of -the grape in it, but is downright cyder. The corporation does not stop -short here, but our cyder, instead of apples, is made of turnips. Who -knows where the cheat will conclude? perhaps the next generation will -debauch our very turnips. - -’Tis well, Mr. _Haines_, you dy’d when you did, for that unhappy place, -where you have so often exerted your talent, I mean _Smithfield_, has -fallen under the city magistrate’s displeasure; so that now St. _George_ -and the _Dragon_, the _Trojan_ horse, and _Bateman_’s ghost, the -_Prodigal Son_, and _Jeptha_’s _Daughter_: In short, all the drolls of -glorious memory, are routed, defeated, and sent to grass, without any -hopes of a reprieve. - -Next to _plays_, we have been over-run, in these times of publick -ferment and distraction, with certain wicked things, called _pamphlets_; -and some scriblers that shall be nameless, have writ _pro_ and _con_ -upon the same subject, at least six times since last spring. - -Both nations are at _bay_, and like two _bull-dogs_ snarl at one -another, yet have not thought fit, as yet, to come to actual blows. What -the event will be, we cannot prophesy at this distance, but every little -corporation in the kingdom has laid _Lewis le Grand_ upon his back, and -as good as call’d him perjur’d knave and villain. However, ’tis the -hardest case in the world if we miscarry; our _Grub-street_ pamphleteers -advise the shires and boroughs what sort of members to chuse; the shires -and boroughs advise their representatives what course to steer in -parliament; and the senators, no doubt on’t, will advise his majesty -what ministers to rely on, and how to behave himself in this present -conjuncture. Thus, advice, you see, like malt-tickets, circulates -plentifully about the kingdom; so that if we fail in our designs, after -all, the wicked can never say, ’twas for want of advice. We forgot to -tell you, Mr. _Haines_, that since you left this upper world, your life -has been written by a brother-player, who pretends he received all his -_memoirs_ from your own mouth, a little before you made a leap into the -dark; and really you are beholden to the fellow, for he makes you a -master of arts at the university, tho’ you never took a degree there. -That, and a thousand stories of other people he has father’d upon you, -and the truth on’t is, the adventures of thy life, if truly set down, -are so romantick, that few besides thy acquaintance would be able to -distinguish between the history and the fable. But let not this disturb -the serenity of your soul, Mr. _Haines_, for after this rate the lives -of all illustrious persons, whether ancient or modern, have been -written. This, Mr. _Haines_, is all we have to communicate to you at -present, so we conclude, with subscribing ourselves, - -_Your most humble Servants_, - -Sebastian Freeman, -_Registrarius, Nomine Societatis_. - -_From_ Will_’s in_ -Covent-Garden, -Jan. 10. 1701. - - - - -SCARRON _to_ LEWIS _le_ GRAND. _By Mr._ BROWN. - - -All the conversation of this lower world, at present, runs upon you; and -the devil a word we can hear in any of our coffee-houses, but what his -_Gallic_ Majesty is more or less concern’d in. ’Tis agreed on by all -our _Virtuosos_, that since the days of _Dioclesian_, no prince has -been so great a benefactor to hell as your self; and as much a matter of -eloquence as I was once thought to be at _Paris_, I want words to tell -you, how much you are commended here for so heroically trampling under -foot the treaty of _Reswick_, and opening a new scene of war in your -great _climateric_, at which age most of the princes before you were -such recreants, as to think of making up their scores with heaven, and -leaving their neighbours in peace. But you, they say, are above such -sordid precedents, and rather than _Pluto_ should want men to people his -dominions, are willing to spare him half a million of your own subjects, -and that at a juncture too, when you are not overstock’d with them. - -This has gain’d you an universal applause in these regions; the three -_Furies_ sing your praises in every street; _Bellona_ swears there’s -never a prince in _Christendom_ worth hanging besides your self; and -_Charon_ bustles for you in all companies: he desir’d me, about a week -ago, to present his most humble respects to you; adding, that if it had -not been for your majesty, he, with his wife and children, must long ago -been quarter’d upon the parish; for which reason he duly drinks your -health every morning in a cup of cold _Styx_ next his conscience. - -Indeed I have a double title to write to you, in the first place, as one -of your dutiful, tho’ unworthy, subjects, who formerly tasted of your -liberality; and secondly, as you have done me the honour to take away my -late wife, not only into your private embraces, but private councils. -Poor soul! I little thought she would fall to your majesty’s share when -I took my last farwel of her, or that a prince that had his choice of so -many thousands, would accept of my sorry leavings. And therefore, I must -confess, I am apt to be a little vain, as often as I reflect, that the -greatest monarch in the universe and I are brother-stallions, and that -the eldest son of the church, and the little _Scarron_ have fish’d in -the same hole. Some sawcy fellows have had the impudence to tell me to -my face, that Madam _Maintenon_ (for so, out of respect to your majesty, -I must call her) is your lawful wife, and that you were clandestinely -marry’d to her. I took them up roundly, as they deserv’d, and told them, -I was sure it was a damn’d lie; for, said I to them, if my master was -marry’d to her, as you pretend, she had broke his heart long ago, as -well as she did mine; from whence I positively concluded, that she might -be your mistress, but was none of your wife. - -Last week, as I was sitting with some of my acquaintance in a -publick-house, after a great deal of impertinent chat about the affairs -of the _Milanese_, and the intended siege of _Mantua_, the whole company -fell a talking of your majesty, and what glorious exploits you had -perform’d in your time. Why, gentlemen, says an ill-look’d rascal, who -prov’d to be _Herostratus_, for _Pluto_’s sake let not the grand monarch -run away with all your praises. I have done something memorable in my -time too; ’twas I, who out of the _Gaiete de Cœur_, and to perpetuate my -name, fir’d the famous temple of the _Ephesian Diana_, and in two hours -consumed that magnificent structure which was two hundred years a -building: therefore, gentlemen, lavish not away all your praises, I -beseech you, upon one man, but allow others their share. Why, thou -diminutive inconsiderable wretch said I, in a great passion to him, thou -worthless idle _logger head_, thou _pigmy_ in sin, thou _Tom Thumb_ in -iniquity, how dares such a puny insect as thou art, have the impudence -to enter the lists with _Lewis le Grand_? thou valuest thy self upon -firing a church, but how? when the mistress of the house, who was a -midwife by profession, was gone out to assist _Olympias_, and deliver’d -her of _Alexander_ the Great. ’Tis plain, thou hadst not the courage to -do it when the goddess was present, and upon the spot; but what is this -to what my royal master can boast of, that had destroyed a hundred and a -hundred such foolish fabricks in his time, and bravely ordered them to -be bombarded, when he knew the very God that made and redeemed him had -taken up his _Quarters_ in ’em. Therefore turn out of the room, like a -paltry insignificant villain as thou art, or I’ll pick thy carcass for -thee. - -He had no sooner made his _exit_, but cries an odd sort of a spark, with -his hat button’d up before, like a country scraper, under favour, Sir, -what do you think of me? Why, who are you? reply’d I to him, Who am I, -answer’d he, Why _Nero_, the sixth emperor of _Rome_, that murder’d -my---- Come, said I to him, to stop your prating, I know your history as -well as yourself, that murder’d your mother, kick’d your wife down -stairs, dispatch’d two Apostles out of the world, begun the first -persecution against the christians, and, lastly, put your master -_Seneca_ to death. As for the murder of your mother, I confess it shew’d -you had some taste of wickedness, and may pass for a tolerable piece of -gallantry; but prithee, what a mighty matter was it to send your wife -packing with a good kick in the guts, when once she grew nauseous and -sawcy; ’tis no more than what a thousand tinkers and foot-soldiers have -done before you: or to put the penal laws in execution against a brace -of hot-headed bigots, and their besotted followers, that must needs come -and preach up a new religion at _Rome_: or, in fine, to take away a -haughty, ungrateful pedant’s life, who conspir’d to take away your’s; -altho’ I know those worthy gentlemen, the school-masters, make a horrid -rout about it in their nonsensical declamations? Whereas his most -_Christian Majesty_, whose advocate I am resolved to be against all -opposers whatever, has bravely and generously starv’d a million of poor -_Hugonots_ at home, and sent t’other million of them a grasing into -foreign countries, contrary to solemn edicts, and repeated promises, for -no other provocation, that I know of, but because they were such -coxcombs, as to place him upon the throne. In short, friend _Nero_, thou -may’st pass for a rogue of the third or fourth class; but be advised by -a stranger, and never shew thyself such a fool as to dispute the -pre-eminence with _Lewis le Grand_, who has murder’d more men in his -reign, let me tell thee, than thou hast murder’d tunes, for all thou art -the vilest thrummer upon cat-gut the sun ever beheld. However, to give -the Devil his due, I will say it before thy face, and behind thy back, -that if thou had’st reign’d as many years as my gracious master has -done, and had’st had, instead of _Tigellinus_, a _Jesuit_ or two to have -govern’d thy conscience, thou mightest, in all probability, have made a -much more magnificent figure, and been inferior to none but the mighty -monarch I have been talking of. - -Having put my _Roman_ emperor to silence, I look’d about me, and saw a -pack of grammarians (for so I guessed them to be by their impertinence -and noise) disputing it very fiercely at the next table; the matter in -debate was, which was the most heroical age; and one of them, who -valu’d himself very much upon his reading, maintain’d, that the heroical -age, properly so call’d, began with the _Theban_, and ended with the -_Trojan_ war, in which compass of time, that glorious constellation of -heroes, _Hercules_, _Jason_, _Theseus_, _Tidæus_, with _Agamemnon_, -_Ajax_, _Achilles_, _Hector_, _Troilus_, and _Diomedes_ flourished: men -that had all signaliz’d themselves by their personal gallantry, and -valour. His next neighbour argued very fiercely for the age wherein -_Alexander_ founded the _Grecian_ monarchy, and saw so many noble -generals and commanders about him. The third was as obstreperous for -that of _Julius Cæsar_, and manag’d his argument with so much heat, that -I expected every minute when these puppies wou’d have gone to -loggerheads in good earnest. To put an end to your controversy, -gentlemen, says I to them, you may talk till your lungs are founder’d, -but this I positively assert, that the present age we live in is the -most heroical age, and that my master, _Lewis le Grand_ is the greatest -hero of it. Hark you me, Sir, how do you make that appear, cry’d the -whole pack of them, opening upon me all at once: by your leave, -gentlemen, answer’d I, two to one is odds at foot-ball; but having a -hero’s cause to defend, I find myself possess’d with a hero’s vigour and -resolution, and don’t doubt but I shall bring you over to my party. That -age therefore is the most heroical which is the boldest and bravest; the -antients, I grant you, whor’d and got drunk, and cut throats as well as -we do; but, gentlemen, they did not sin upon the same foot as we, nor -had so many wicked discouragements to deter them; we whore when we know -’tis ten to one but we get a clap for our pains; whereas our -fore-fathers, before the siege of _Naples_, had no such blessing to -apprehend; we drink and murther one another in cold blood, at the same -time we believe that we must be rewarded with damnation; but your old -hero’s had no notion at all, or at least an imperfect one of a future -state: so ’tis a plain case, you see, that the heroism lies on our side. -To apply this then to my royal master; he has fill’d all Christendom -with blood and confusion; he has broke thro’ the most solemn treaties -sworn at the altar; he has stray’d and undone infinite numbers of poor -wretches; and all this for his own glory and ambition, when he’s assured -that hell gapes every moment for him: now tell me, whether your -_Jasons_, your _Agamemnons_, or _Alexanders_, durst have ventur’d so -heroically; or whether your pitiful emperors of _Germany_, your -mechanick kings of _England_ and _Sweden_, or your lousy States of -_Holland_, have courage enough to write after so illustrous a copy. - -Thus, Sir, you may see with what zeal I appear in your majesty’s behalf, -and that I omit no opportunity of magnifying your great exploits to the -utmost of my poor abilities. At the same time I must freely own to you, -that I have met with some rough-hewn sawcy rascals, that have stopp’d me -in my full career, when I have been expatiating upon your praises, and -have so dumbfounded me with their villainous objections, that I could -not tell how to reply to them. - -Some few days ago it was my fortune to affirm, in a full assembly, that -since the days of _Charlemagne_, _France_ was never bless’d with so -renown’d, so victorious, and so puissant a prince as your majesty. You -lame, gouty coxcomb, says a sawcy butter-box of a _Dutchman_ to me, -don’t give yourself these airs in our company; _Lewis_, the greatest -prince that _France_ ever had! Why, I tell thee, he has no more title to -that crown, than I have to the _Great Mogul_’s; and _Lewis_ the -thirteenth was no more his father than the Pope of _Rome_ is thine. I -bless’d myself to hear the fellow deliver this with so serious a mien, -when a countryman of his taking up the cudgels; ’Tis true, says he, your -mighty monarch has no right to the throne he possesses; the late king -had no hand in the begetting of him, but a lusty proper young fellow, -one _le Grand_ by name, and an Apothecary by profession, was employ’d by -cardinal _Mazarine_, who had prepar’d the queen’s conscience for the -taking of such a dose, to strike an heir for _France_ out of her -majesty’s body; by the same token that this scarlet agent of hell, got -him fairly poison’d as soon as he had done the work, for fear of telling -tales. If you ever read _Virgil_’s life written by _Donatus_, cries a -third to me, you’ll find that _Augustus_ having rewarded that famous -poet for some little services done him, with a parcel of loaves, had the -curiosity once to enquire of him who he thought was his father? to -which question of the emperor, _Virgil_ fairly answer’d, that he -believ’d him to be a Baker’s son, because he still paid him in a Baker’s -manufacture, _viz._ bread. And thus, were there no other proofs to -confirm it, yet any one would swear that _Lewis le Grand_ is an -Apothecary’s son, because he has acted all his life-time the part of an -Apothecary. - -_Imprimis_, He has given so many strong purges to his own kingdom, that -he has empty’d it of half its people and money. _Item_, He apply’d -costives to _Genoa_ and _Brussels_, when he bombarded both those cities. -_Item_, He gave a damn’d clyster to the _Hollanders_ with a witness, -when he fell upon the rear of their provinces, in the year 72. _Item_, -He lull’d king _Charles_ the second asleep with female opiates. _Item_, -He forced Pope _Innocent_ the eleventh, to swallow the unpalatable -draught of the _Franchises_. _Item_, He administrated a restorative -cordial to _Mahumetanisme_, when he enter’d into an alliance with the -_Grand Turk_ against the emperor. _Item_, He would have bubbled the -prince of _Orange_ with the gilded pill of sovereignty, but his little -cousin was wiser than to take it. And lastly, If he had restor’d king -_James_ to his crown again, he would have brought the people of -_England_ a most conscientious Apothecary’s bill for his waiting and -attending. In short, shake this mighty monarch in a bag, turn him this -way, and that way, and t’other way, _sursum, deorsum, quaquaversum_, -I’ll engage you’ll find him nothing but a meer Apothecary; and I hope -the emperor and king of _England_ will play the Apothecary too in their -turn, and make him vomit up all those provinces and kingdoms he has so -unrighteously usurp’d. Prince _Eugene_ of _Savoy_ has work’d him pretty -well this last summer, and ’tis an infallible prognostic, that he’s -reduced to the last extremities, when his spiritual physicians apply -pigeons to the soles of his feet; I mean prayers and masses, and advise -him to reconcile himself to that Heaven he has so often affronted with -his most execrable perjuries. - -’Tis impossible for me to tell your majesty, what a surprize I was in to -hear this graceless _Netherlander_ blaspheme your glorious name after -this insufferable rate. But to see how one persecution treads upon the -heels of another! I was hardly recover’d out of my astonishment, when a -son of a whore of a _German_, advancing towards me, was pleas’d to -explain himself as follows: - -You keep a pother and noise here about your mighty monarch, says he to -me, but what has this mighty monarch, and be damn’d to you, done to -merit any body’s good word? I say, what one generous noble exploit has -he been guilty of in his whole reign, as long as it is, to deserve so -much incense and flattery, so many statues and triumphal arches, which a -pack of mercenary, nauseous, fulsome slaves have bestow’d upon him? For -my part, continues he, when I first heard his historians and poets, his -priests and courtiers, talk such wonderful things of him, I fancy’d that -another _Cyrus_ or _Alexander_ had appeared upon the stage; but when I -observed him more narrowly, and by a truer light, I found this immortal -man, as his inscriptions vainly stile him, to be a little, tricking, -pilfering _Fripon_, that watch’d the critical minute of stealing towns, -as nicely as your rogues of an inferior sphere do that of nimming -cloaks; and tho’ he had the fairest opportunity of erecting a new -western monarchy that ever any prince cou’d boast of, since the -declension of the _Roman_ empire; yet to his eternal disgrace be it -said, no man could have made a worse use of all those wonderful -advantages, that fortune, and the stupid security of his neighbours -conspir’d to put into his hands. To convince you of the truth of this, -let us only consider what posture the affairs of _France_ were in at his -accession to that crown, and several years after, as likewise how all -the neighbouring princes and states about him stood affected: to begin -then with the former, he found himself master of the best disciplin’d -troops in the universe, commanded by the most experienced generals that -any one age had produc’d, and spirited by a long train of victories, -over a careless, desponding, lazy enemy. All the great men of his -kingdom so depressed and humbled by the fortunate artifices of -_Richlieu_ and _Mazarine_, that they were not capable of giving him any -uneasiness at home, the sole power of raising money entirely in his own -hands, and his parliaments so far from giving a check to his daily -encroachments upon their liberties, that they were made the most -effectual instruments of his tyranny: In short, his clergy as much -devoted, and the whole body of his people as subservient to him as a -prince cou’d wish. As far his neighbours, he who was best able of any to -put a stop to his growing greatness, I mean the king of _England_, -either favour’d his designs clandestinely, or was so enervated by his -pleasure, that provided he cou’d enjoy an inglorious effeminacy at home, -he seem’d not to lay much to heart what became of the rest of -Christendom. - -The emperor was composing anthems for his chapel at _Vienna_, when he -shou’d have appeared at the head of his troops on the _Rhine_. The -princes of _Germany_ were either divided from the common interest by the -underhand management of _France_, or not at all concerned at the -impending storm that threatned them. The _Hollanders_ within an ace of -losing their liberty by the preposterous care they took to secure it; I -mean, by diverting that family of all power in their government, which, -as it had formerly erected their republick, so now was the only one that -cou’d help to protect it. - -The little states and principalities of _Italy_, looking on at a -distance, and not daring to declare themselves in so critical a -conjuncture, when the two keys of their country, _Pignerol_ and _Casal_ -hung at the girdle of _France_. In short, the dispeopl’d monarchy of -_Spain_, governed by a soft unactive prince, equally unfit for the -cabinet and the field; his counsellors, who manag’d all under him, -taking no care to lay up magazines, and put their towns in a posture of -defence, but wholly relying as for that, upon their neighbours; like -some inconsiderate spend-thrift thrown into a jail by his creditors, -that smoakes and drinks, and talks merrily all the while, but never -advances one step to make his circumstances easy to him, leaving the -burthen of that affair to his friends and relations, whom perhaps he -never obliged so far in his prosperity, as to deserve it from their -hands. - -Here now, says he, was the fairest opportunity that ever presented -itself for a prince of gallantry and resolution, for a _Tamerlane_ and a -_Scanderbeg_, to have done something eminently signal in his generation; -and if in the last century, a little king of _Sweden_, with a handful -of men, cou’d force his way from the _Baltick_ to the _Rhine_, and fill -all _Germany_ with terror and consternation, what might we not have -expected from a powerful king of _France_, in the flower of his youth, -and at the head of two hundred thousand effective men, especially when -there was no visible power to oppose him? But this wonderful monarch of -yours, instead of carrying his arms beyond the _Danube_, and performing -any one action worthy for his historians to record in the annals of his -reign, has humbly contented himself, now and then, in the beginning of -the year, when he knew his neighbours were unprepared for such a visit, -to invest some little market-town in _Flanders_, with his invincible -troops; and when a parcel of silly implicit fools had done the business -for him; then, forsooth, he must appear at the head of his court harlots -and minstrels, and make a magnificent entry thro’ the breach: And after -this ridiculous piece of pageantry is over, return back again to -_Versailles_, with the fame equipage, order’d new medals, operas, and -sonnets to be made upon the occasion; and what ought by no means to be -omitted, our most trusty and well-beloved counsellor and cousin, the -archbishop of _Paris_, must immediately have a letter sent him, to -repair forthwith, at the head of his ecclesiastick myrmidons, to _Nôtre -Dame_, and there to thank God for the success of an infamous robbery, -which an honest moral pagan would have blush’d at. So that when the next -fit of his _fistula in ano_ shall send this immortal town-stealer, this -divine village-lifter, this heroic pilferer of poor hamlets and their -dependancies, down to these subterranean dominions, don’t imagine that -he’ll be allowed to keep company with the _Pharamonds_ and -_Charlemagnes_ of _France_, the _Edwards_ and _Henries_ of _England_, -the _Williams_ of the _Nassovian_ family, or the _Alexanders_ and -_Cæsars_ of _Greece_ and _Rome_. No, shou’d he have the impudence to -shew his head among that illustrious assembly, they wou’d soon order -their footmen to drub him into better manners: Neither, cries a surly -_Englishman_, clapping his sides, and interrupting him, must he expect -the favour to appear even among our holyday heroes, and custard stormers -of _Cheapside_, those merry burlesques of the art military in -_Finsbury-fields_, who, poor creatures! never meant the destruction of -any mortal thing, but transitory roast-beaf and capon: no, friend, says -he, _Lewis le Grand_ must expect to take up his habitation in the most -infamous quarter of _Hell_, among a parcel of house-breakers and -shop-lifters, rogues burnt in the cheek for petty-larceny and burglary, -brethren of the moon, gentlemen of the horn-thumb, pillagers of the -hedges and henroosts, conveyers of silver spoons, and camblet cloaks, -and such like enterprising heroes, whose famous actions are faithfully -register’d in our sessions-papers and dying-speeches, transmitted to -posterity by the Ordinary of _Newgate_; a much more impartial historian -than your _Pelissons_ and _Boileaus_. However, as I was inform’d last -week by an understrapper at court; _Pluto_, in consideration of the -singular services your royal master has done him, will allow him a brace -of fiddlers to scrape and sing to him wherever he goes, since he takes -such a delight to hear his own praises. - -I must confess, says another leering rogue, a countryman of his, that -since the grand monarch we have been speaking of, who has all along done -more by his bribing and tricking, than by the conduct of his generals, -or the bravery of his troops, who has plaid at fast and loose with his -neighbours ever since he came to the crown, who has surprised abundance -of towns in his time, and at the next treaty been forced to spue up -those very places he ordered _Te Deum_ to be sung for a few months -before. I must confess, says he, that since in conjunction with a damn’d -mercenary priest, he has forg’d a will for his brother-in-law of -_Spain_, and plac’d his grandson upon that throne, I should think the -rest of Christendom in a very bad condition indeed, if he should be -suffered to go on quietly with his show a few years more: Then for all I -know, he might bid fair to set up a new empire in the west, which he has -been aiming at so long: But if the last advice from the other world -don’t deceive us: If the parliament of _England_ goes on as unanimously -as they have begun, to support their prince in so pious and necessary a -war; in short, if the emperor, the _Dutch_, and the other allies, act -with that vigour and resolution as it becomes them upon this pressing -occasion, I make no question to see this mighty hero plunder’d like the -jay in the fable, of all the fine plumes he has borrow’d, and reduc’d to -so low an ebb, that he shall not find it in his power, tho’ he has never -so much in his will, to disturb the peace of the christian world any -more. And this, continues he, is as favourable an opportunity as we -could desire, to strip him of all his usurpations; for heaven be -praised, _Spain_ at present is a burthen to him, and by grasping at too -much, he’s in a fair way to lose every farthing. Besides, this late -forgery of the will has pluck’d off his old mask, and shews that ’tis an -universal monarchy he intends, and not the repose of _Europe_, which has -been so fortunate a sham to him in all his other treaties; so that the -devil’s in the allies now, if they don’t see thro’ those thin pretences -he so often bubbled them with formerly; or lay down their arms, till -they have made this _French_ bustard, who is all feathers, and no -substance, as bare and naked as a skeleton; and effectually spoil his -new trade of making wills for other people. And this they may easily -bring about, continues he, if they lay hold on the present opportunity, -for as I observed to you before, he has taken more business upon his -hands than he’ll ever be able to manage, and by grasping at too much, is -in the direct road to lose all. For my part, I never think of him, but -he puts me in mind of a silly foolish fellow I knew once in _London_, -who was a common knife-grinder about the streets, and having in this -humble occupation gathered a few straggling pence, must needs take a -great house in _Fleetstreet_, and set up for a sword-cutler; but before -quarter-day came, finding the rent too bulky for him, he very fairly -rubb’d off with all his effects, and left his landlord the key under the -door. Without pretending to the spirit of _Nostradamus_, or _Lilly_, -this I foresee, will be the fate of _Lewis le Grand_; therefore when you -write next to your glorious monarch, pray give my respects to him, and -bid him remember the sad destiny of the poor knife-grinder of _London_. - -Thus you see, Sir, how I am daily plagu’d and harrass’d by a parcel of -brawny impudent rascals, and all for espousing your quarrel, and crying -up the justice of your arms. For _Pluto_’s sake let me conjure your -majesty to lay your commands upon _Boileau_, _Racine_, or any of your -panegyrists, to instruct me how I may stop the mouths of these -impertinent babblers for the future, who make Hell ten times more -insupportable than otherwise it would be, and threaten to toss me in a -blanket the next time I come unprovided for your defence into their -company. In the mean time, humbly desiring your majesty to present my -love to the _quondam_ wife of my bosom, I mean the virtuous madam -_Maintenon_, who, in conjunction with your most christian majesty, now -governs all _France_; and put her in mind of sending me a dozen of new -shirts by the next pacquet, I remain, - -_Your Majesty’s -most obedient, and most obliged -Subject and Servant_, - -SCARRON. - - - - -HANNIBAL _to the Victorious Prince_ EUGENE _of_ SAVOY. _By Mr._ BROWN. - - -’Twas with infinite satisfaction that I receiv’d the news of the happy -success of your arms in _Italy_. My worthy friend _Scipio_, (for so I -may justly call him, since we have dropp’d our old animosities, and now -live amicably together) is eternally talking of your conduct and -bravery; nay, _Alexander the Great_, who can hardly bear any competitor -in the point of glory, has freely confessed, that your gallantry in -passing the _Po_ and _Adige_, in the face of so powerful an enemy, falls -not short of what he himself formerly shew’d upon the banks of the -_Granicus_. For my part, I have a thousand obligations to you. My march -over the _Alpes_, upon which I may deservedly value myself, was look’d -upon here to be fabulous, till your late expedition over those rugged -mountains confirm’d the belief of it. Thus neither hills nor rivers can -stop the progress of your victories, and ’tis you who have found out the -lucky secret, how to baffle the circumspect gravity of the _Spaniards_, -and repress the furious impetuosity of the _French_. His _Gallic_ -majesty, who minds keeping his word as little, as that mercenary -republick of tradesmen whom it was my misfortune to serve, will find to -his cost, that all the laurels he has been so long, a plundering, will -at last fall to your excellency’s share; and that he has been labouring -forty years together to no other purpose, than to enrich you with the -spoils of his former triumphs. Go on, therefore, in the glorious track -as you have begun, and be assured, that the good wishes of all the great -and illustrious persons now resident in this lower world attend you in -all your enterprizes. As nothing can be a greater pleasure to virtuous -men, than to see villains rewarded according to their deserts; so true -heroes never rejoice more than when they see a sham-conqueror, and vain -glorious bully, such as _Lewis_ XIV. plunder’d of all his unjust -acquisitions, and reduced to his primitive state of nothing. Were there -a free communication between our territories and yours, _Cyrus_, -_Miltiades_, _Cæsar_, and a thousand other generals, would be proud to -offer you their service the next campaign; but ’tis your happiness that -you want not their assistance; your own personal bravery, join’d to that -of your troops, and the justice of your cause, being sufficient to carry -you thro’ all your undertakings. - -_Farewel._ - - - - -PINDAR _of_ Thebes _to_ TOM. DURFEY. _By Mr._ BROWN. - - -However it happen’d so, I can’t tell, but I could never get a sight of -thy famous _Pindaric_ upon the late queen _Mary_, ’till about a month -ago. Most of the company would needs have me declare open war against -thee that very minute, for prophaning my name with such execrable -doggrel. _Stensichorus_ rail’d at thee worse than the man of the -_Horseshoe-Tavern_ in _Drury-lane_; _Alcæus_, I believe, will hardly be -his own man again this fortnight, so much concerned he is to find thee -crowding thy self upon the _Lyric_ poets; nay, _Sappho_ the patient, -laid about her like a fury, and call’d thee a thousand pimping -stuttering ballad-fingers. As for me, far from taking any thing amiss at -my hands, I am mightily pleased with the honour thou hast done me, and -besides, must own thou hast been the cheapest, kindest physician to me I -ever met with; for whenever my circumstances sit uneasy upon me, (and -for thy comfort _Tom_, we poets have our plagues in this world, as well -as we had in your’s) when my landlord persecutes me for rent, my -sempstress for my linnen, my taylor for cloaths, or my vintner for a -long pagan score behind the bar, I immediately read but half a dozen -lines of thy admirable ode, and sleep as heartily as the monks in -_Rabelais_, after singing a verse or two of the seven penitential -psalms. All I am afraid of, is, that when the virtues of it are known, -some body or other will be perpetually borrowing it of me, either to -help him to a nap, or cure him of the spleen, for I find ’tis an -excellent specifick for both; therefore I must desire thee to order -trusty _Sam._ to send me as many of them as have escap’d the -Pastry-cook, and I will remit him his money by the next opportunity. If -_Augustus Cæsar_ thought a _Roman_ gentleman’s pillow worth the buying, -who slept soundly every night amidst all his debts, can a man blame me -for bestowing a few transitory pence upon thy poem, which is the best -opiate in the universe? In short, friend _Tom_, I love and admire thee -for the freedom thou hast taken with me; and this I will say in -commendation, that thou hast in this respect done more than even -_Alexander_ the Great durst do. That mighty conqueror, upon the taking -of _Thebes_, spared all of my family; nay, the very house I lived in: -but thou, who hast a genius superior to him, hast not spared me, even in -what I value most, my verification and good name, for which _Apollo_ in -due time reward thee. - -_Farewel._ - - - - -_King_ JAMES II. _to_ LEWIS XVI. _By Mr._ BOYER. - - -_Dear Royal Brother and Cousin_, - -Tho’ I have travers’d the vast abyss that lies betwixt us; and am now at -some hundred millions of leagues distance from you, yet do I still -remember the promise I made you before my departure, to send you an -account of my journey hither. Know then, that all the stories you hear -of the mansions of the dead, are flim-flams, invented by the crafty, to -terrify and manage the weak. Here’s no such thing as _Hell_ or -_Purgatory_; no _Lake of fire and brimstone_; no _cleven-footed -devils_; no _land of darkness_. This place is wonderfully well lighted -by a never decaying effulgence, which flows from the Almighty; and the -pleasures we dead enjoy, and the torments we endure, consist in a full -and clear view of our past actions, whether good or bad; and in being in -such or such company as is allotted us. For my part, I am continually -tormented with the thoughts of having lost three goodly kingdoms by my -infatuation and bigotry; and to aggravate my pain, I am quarter’d with -my royal father _Charles_ I. my honest well meaning brother _Charles_ -II. and the subtle _Machiavel_; the first reproaches me ever and anon, -with my not having made better use of his dreadful examples; the second, -with having despis’d his wholsome advices; and the third, with having -misapply’d his maxims, thro’ the wrong suggestions of my father -confessor. Oh! that I had as little religion as your self, or as -_S_---- _M_----, _R_---- _H_----, and some others, of my ministers, and -my predecessors; then might I have reign’d with honour, and in plenty -over a nation, which is ever loyal and faithful to a prince who is -tender of their laws and liberties; and peacefully resign’d my crown my -lawfully begotten son; whereas thro’ the delusions of priest-craft, and -the fond insinuations of a bigotted wife, I endeavoured to establish the -superstitions of _Popery_, and the fatal maxims of a despotick, -dispensing power, upon the ruins of the _Protestant Religion_, and of -the fundamental laws of a free people, which at last concluded with my -abdication and exile. I am sorry you have deviated from your wonted -custom of breaking your word, and that you have punctually observ’d the -promise you made me at my dying bed, of acknowledging my dear son as -king of _Great-Britain_; for I fear my _quondam_ subjects, who love to -contradict you in every thing, will from thence take occasion to abjure -him for ever; whereas had you disowned him, they would perhaps have -acknowledged him in mere spite. Cardinal _Richlieu_, who visits me -often, professes still a great deal of zeal and affection for your -government, but is extremely concern’d at the wrong measures you take to -arrive at universal monarchy. He has desir’d me to advise you to keep -the old method he chalk’d out for you, which is, to trust more to your -gold than to your arms. I cannot but think he is in the right on’t, -considering the wonderful success the first has lately had with the -archbishop of _Cologn_, and some other of the _German_ and _Italian_ -princes, and the small progress your armies have made in the _Milanese_. -But the wholesomeness of his advice is yet better justify’d by your -dealings with the _English_, whom you know, you have always found more -easily bribed than bullied. Therefore, as you tender the grandeur of -your monarchy, and the interest of my dear son, instead of raising new -forces, and fitting out fleets, be sure to send a cart-load of your -new-coin’d _Lewis d’ors_ into _England_, in order to divide the nation, -and set the _Whigs_ and _Tories_ together by the ears. But take care you -trust your money in the hands of a person that knows how to distribute -it to more advantage than either count _T----d_ or _P----n_, who, as I -am told, have lavish’d away your favours all at once upon insatiable -cormorants, and extravagant gamesters and spendthrifts. ’Tis true, by -their assistance, and the unwearied diligence of my loyal _Jacobites_, -you have made a shift to get the old ministry discarded, and to retard -the grand alliance; but let me tell you, unless you see them afresh, -they will certainly leave you in the lurch at the next sessions; for -ingratitude and corruption do always go together. Therefore to keep -these mercenary rogues to their behaviour, and in perpetual dependance, -you must feed them with small portions, as weekly, or monthly allowance. -Above all, bid your agents take heed how they deal with a certain -indefatigable writer, who, as long as your gold has lasted, has been -very useful to our cause, and boldly defeated the dangerous counsels of -the _Whigs_, your implacable enemies; but who, upon the first -withdrawing of your bounty, will infallibly turn cat in pan, and write -for the house of _Austria_. - -I could give you more instructions in relation to _England_, but not -knowing whether they would be taken in good part, I forbear them for the -present. Pray comfort my dear spouse with a royal kiss, and tell her, I -wait her coming with impatience. Bid my beloved son not despair of -ascending my throne, that is, provided he shakes off the fetters of the -_Romish_ superstition; let him not despond upon account of my unfaithful -servant _Fuller_’s evidence against his legitimacy, for the depositions -of my nobility, which are still upon record in the Chancery, will -easily defeat that perjur’d fellow’s pretended proof, with all honest -considering men. And as for the numerous addresses, which I hear, are -daily presented to my successor against him, he may find as many in my -strong box, which were presented to me in his favour, both before and -after his birth. The last courier brought us news of a pretended -miracle, wrought by my body at the _Benedictines_ church; I earnestly -desire you to disabuse the world, and keep the imposture from getting -ground; for how is it possible I should cure eye-fistulas, now I am -dead, that could not ease myself of a troublesome corn in my toe when -living? My service to all our friends and acquaintance; be assur’d that -all the _Lethean_ waters shall never wash away from my memory the great -services I have received at your hands in the other world; nor the -inviolable affection, which makes me subscribe myself, - -_Dear Royal Brother and Cousin, -Your most obliged Friend_, - -JAMES REX. - - - - -LEWIS XIV_’s. Answer to_ K. JAMES II. _By the same Hand._ - - -_Most beloved Royal Brother and Cousin_, - -Your’s I received this morning, and no sooner cast my eyes upon the -superscription, but I guess’d it to be written by one of my fellow -kings, by the scrawl and ill spelling. I am glad your account of the -other world agrees so well with the thoughts I always entertained about -it: For, between friends, I never believ’d the stories the priests tell -us of hell and purgatory. Ambition has ever been my religion; and my -grandeur the only deity to which I have paid my adorations. If I have -persecuted the protestants of my kingdom, ’twas not because I thought -their perswasions worse than the _Romish_, but because I look’d upon -them as a sort of dangerous, antimonarchical people; who, as they had -fixed the crown upon my head, so they might as easily take it off, to -serve their own party; and because by that means I secur’d the -_Jesuits_, who must be own’d the best supporters of arbitrary power. -Nay, to tell you the truth, my design in making you, by my emissaries, a -stickler of popery, was only to create jealousies betwixt you and your -people, so that ye might stand in need of my assistance, and be -tributary to my power. I am sorry you are in the company of the three -persons you mention. To get rid of their teasing and reproaching -conversation, I advise you to propose a match at whisk, and if by -casting knaves you can but get _Machiavel_ on your side, I am sure you -will get the better of the other two. Since you mention my owning the -prince your son as king of _Great Britain_, I must needs tell you, that -neither he nor you, have reason to be beholden to me for it; for what I -did was not to keep my promise to you, but only to serve my own ends; I -considered, that an alliance being made between the _English_, the -_Emperor_, and the _Dutch_, in order to reduce my exorbitant power, a -war must inevitably follow. Now, I suppose, that after two or three -years fighting, my finances will be pretty near exhausted, and that I -shall be forced to condescend to give peace to _Europe_, as I did four -years ago. The _Emperor_, I reckon, will be brought to sign and seal -upon reasonable terms, and be content with having some small share in -the _Spanist_ monarchy, as will the _Dutch_ also with a barrier in -_Flanders_. These two less considerable enemies being quieted, how shall -I pacify those I fear most, I mean the _English_? Why, by turning your -dear son out of my kingdom, as I formerly did you and your brother. Not -that I will wholly abandon him neither: no, you may rest assured that I -will re-espouse his quarrel, as soon as I shall find an opportunity to -make him instrumental to the advancement of my greatness. I am obliged -to cardinal _Richlieu_ for the concern he shews for the honour of -_France_, and will not fail to make use of his advice, as far as my -running cash will let me. But I am somewhat puzzled how to manage -matters in _England_ at the next sessions; for my agent _P----n_, by -taking his leave in a publick tavern, of three of our best friends, has -render’d them suspected to the nation, and consequently useless to me. I -wish you could direct me to some trusty _Jacobite_ in _England_, to -distribute my bribes; for I find my own subjects unqualify’d for that -office, and easily bubbled by the sharp mercenary _English_. However, I -will not so much depend upon my _Lewis d’ors_, as to disband my armies, -and lay up my fleets, as you and cardinal _Richlieu_ seem to counsel me -to do. I suppose you have no other intelligence but the -_London-Gazette_, else you would not entertain so despicable an opinion -of my arms in _Italy_. I send you here enclos’d a collection of the -_Gazettes_ printed this year in my good city of _Paris_, whereby you -will find, upon a right computation, that the _Germans_ have lost ten -men to one of the confederates. Pray fail not sending me by the next -post, all the instructions you can think of, in relation to _England_: -for tho’ you made more false steps in this world, than any of your -predecessors; yet I find by your letter, you have wonderfully improv’d -your politicks by the conversation of _Machiavel_ and _Richlieu_. I have -communicated your letter to your dear spouse and beloved son, who cannot -be perswaded to believe it came from you; not thinking it possible that -so religious a man, whilst living, should turn libertine after his -death: I cannot, with safety, comply to your desire of disabusing the -world, concerning the miraculous cure pretended to be wrought by your -body at the _Benedictines_ church. Such pious frauds being the main prop -of the Popish religion; as this is of my sovereign authority. Your son -may hope to be one day seated on your throne, not by turning Protestant -(to which he is entirely averse, and which I shall be sure to prevent) -but by the _superiority_ of my arms, and the _extensiveness_ of my -_power_, after I shall have fix’d my son on the monarchy of _Spain_. -Madam _Maintenon_ desires to be remembred to you, she writes by this -post to Mr. _Scarron_, her former husband, to desire him to wait on you, -and endeavour to divert your melancholy thoughts, by reading to you the -third part of his comical romance, which we are inform’d he has lately -written, for the entertainment of the dead. I remain as faithfully as -ever, - -_Dear Royal Brother and Cousin, -Your affectionate Friend_, - -LEWIS REX. - - - - - _From_ JULIAN, _late Secretary to the_ MUSES, _to_ WILL. PIERRE - _of_ Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields _Play-house. By another Hand._ - -_Pandæmonium the 8th of the month of_ Belzebub. - - -_Worthy and Right Well-beloved_, - -That you may not wonder at an address from hell, or be scandaliz’d at -the correspondence, I must let you know first, that by the uncertainty -of the road, and the forgetfulness of my old acquaintance, all my former -letters are either miscarried, or have been neglected by my -correspondents, who, tho’ they were fond enough of my scandal, nay, -courted my favours when living, now I am past gratifying their vices, -like true men, they think no more of me. The conscious tub-tavern can -witness, and my _Berry-street_ apartment testify the sollicitations I -have had, for the first copy of a new lampoon, from the greatest lords -of the court; tho’ their own folly, and their wives vices were the -subject. My person was so sacred, that the terrible scan-man had no -terrors for me, whose business was so publick and so useful, as -conveying about the faults of the great and the fair; for in my books -the lord was shewn a knave or fool, tho’ his power defended the former, -and his pride would not see the latter. The antiquitated coquet was told -of her age and ugliness, tho’ her vanity plac’d her in the first row in -the king’s box at the play-house, and in the view of the congregation at -St. _James_’s church. The precise countess that wou’d be scandaliz’d at -a double _entendre_, was shewn betwixt a pair of sheets with a well made -footman, in spite of her quality and conjugal vow. The formal statesman -that set up for wisdom and honesty, was exposed as a dull tool, and yet -a knave, losing at play his own revenue, and the bribes incident to his -post, besides enjoying the infamy of a poor and fruitless knavery -without any concern. The demure lady, that wou’d scarce sip off the -glass in company, carousing her bottles in private, of cool _Nantz_ too, -sometimes to correct the crudities of her last night’s debauch. In -short, in my books were seen men and women as they were, not as they -wou’d seem; stripp’d of their hypocrisy, spoil’d of their fig-leaves of -their quality. A knave was a call’d a knave, a fool a fool, a jilt a -jilt, and a whore a whore. And the love of scandal and native malice -that men and women have to one another, made me in such request when -alive, that I was admitted to the lord’s closet, when a man of letters -and merit would be thrust out of doors. And I was as familiar with the -ladies as their lap-dogs; for to them I did often good services, under a -pretence of a lampoon, I conveying a _Billet-deux_; and so whilst I -expos’d their past vices in the present, I prompted matter for the next -lampoon. After all these services, believe me, Sir, I was no sooner -dead, than forgotten: I have writ many letters to the brib’d countries, -of their fore-runner’s arrival in these parts, but not one word of -answer. I sent word to my lord _Squeezall_ that his good friend Sir -_Parcimony Spareall_ was newly arriv’d, and clapp’d into the bilbows for -a fool as well as a knave, that starv’d himself to supply the -prodigality of his heirs. But he despises good counsel I hear, and -starves both himself and his children, to raise them portions. I writ -another letter to my lady _Manishim_, that virtuous Mrs. _Vizoe_ was -brought in here, and made shroving-fritters for the hackney devils, for -her unnatural lusts; but _Sue Frousy_ that came hither the other day, -assures me, that she either received not my letter, or at least took no -notice of it; for that she went on in her old road, and had brought her -vice almost into fashion; and that the practical vices of the town -bounded an eternal breach betwixt the sexes, while each confin’d itself -to the same sex, and so threaten’d a cessation of commerce in -propagation betwixt them. In short, Sir, I have tired my self with -advices to my _quondam_ acquaintance, and that should take away your -surprise at my sending to you, who must be honest, because you are so -poor; and a man of merit because you were never promoted; for your world -of the theatre, is the true picture of the greater world, where honesty -and merit starve, while knavery and impudence get favour from all men. -For you, Sir, if I mistake not, are one of the most ancient of his -majesty’s servants, under the denomination of a player, and yet cannot -advance above the delivering of a scurvy message, which the strutting -leaders of your house wou’d do much more aukwardly, and by consequence -’tis the partiality of them, or the town, that have kept you in this low -post all this while. This perswades me, that from you I may hope a true -and sincere account of things, and how matters are now carried above; -for lying, hypocrisy, and compliment, so take up all that taste of -fortune’s favour, that there is scarce any credit to be given to their -narrations; for either out of favour or malice, they give a false face -to histories, and misrepresent mankind to that abominable degree, that -the best history is not much better than a probable romance; and -_Quintus Curtius_, and _Calprenede_, are distinguished more by their -language than sincerity. Thus much by shewing the motive of my writing -to you, to take away your surprise; tho’, before I pass, to remove the -shame of such a correspondence, I must tell you, that your station -qualifying you for a right information of the scandal of the town, I -hope you will not fail to answer my expectation: Behind your scenes come -all the young wits, and all the young and old beaus, both animals of -malice, and wou’d no more conceal any woman’s frailty, or any man’s -folly, than they will own any man’s sense, or any woman’s honesty. - -I know that hell lies under some disadvantages, in the opinion even of -those who are industrious enough to secure themselves a retreat here. -They play the devil among you, and yet are ashamed of their master, and -rail at his abode, as much as if they had no right to the inheritance. -The miser, whose daily toils, and nightly cares and study is how to -oppress the poor, cheat or overreach his neighbour, to betray the trusts -his hypocrisy procured; and, in short, to break all the positive laws of -morality, cries out, _Oh diabolical!_ at a poor harmless double meaning -in a play, and blesses himself that he is not one of the ungodly; rails -at Hell and the Devil all the while he is riding post to them. The holy -sister, that sacrifices in the righteousness of her spirit the -reputation of some of her acquaintance or other every day; that cuckolds -her husband in the fear of the Lord with one of the elect; rails at the -whore of _Babylon_, and lawn-sleeves, as the diabolical invention of -_Lucifer_, tho’ she is laying up provisions here for a long abode in -these shades of reverend _Satan_, whom she so much all her life declaims -against. The lawyer that has watched whole nights, and bawl’d away whole -days in bad causes, for good gold; that never car’d how crafty his -client’s title was, if his bags were full; that has made a hundred -conveyances with flaws, to beget law-suits, and litigious broils; when -he’s with the Devil, has the detestation of Hell and the Devil in his -mouth, all the while that the love of them fills his whole heart; and so -thro’ the rest of our false brothers, whose mouths bely their minds, and -fix an infamy on what they most pursue. - -This is what may make you ashamed of my correspondence, but when you -will reflect on what good company we keep here, you will think it more -an honour than disgrace; for our company here is chiefly composed of -princes, great lords, modern statesmen, courtiers, lawyers, judges, -doctors of divinity, and doctors of the civil-law, beaux, ladies of -beauty and quality, wits of title, men of noisy honour, gifted brothers, -boasters of the spirits supply’d them from hence: In short, all that -make most noise against us: which will, I hope, satisfy you so far, as -to make me happy in a speedy answer; which will oblige, - -_Your very Humble and -Infernal Servant_, - -JULIAN. - - - - -WILL. PIERRE_’s Answer. By the same Hand._ - - -_Behind the Scenes_, Lincolns-Inn-Fields, -Nov. 5. 1701. - -_Worthy Sir, of venerable Memory._ - - -Yours I received, and have been so far from being surpriz’d at, or -asham’d of your correspondence, that the first I desired, and the latter -was transported with. My mind has been long burdened, and I wanted such -a correspondence to disclose my grievances to, for there is no man on -earth that wou’d give me the hearing, for Popery makes a man of the best -parts a jest, and every fool with a feather in his cap, can overlook a -man of merit in rags. Wit from one out at heels, sounds like nonsense in -the ears of a gay fop, that knows no other furniture of a head, but a -full wig; and he that would split himself with the half jest of a lord -he wou’d flatter, is deaf to the best thing from the mouth, of a poor -fellow he can’t get by. These considerations, Sir, have made me proud of -this occasion, of replying to your obliging letter, in the manner you -desire. For as scandal was your occupation here above, you, like -vintners and bawds, living on the sins of the times; so a short -impartial account of the present state of iniquity and folly, cannot be -disagreeable to you. - -Poetry was the vehicle that conveyed all your scandal to the town, and I -being conversant about the skirts of that art, my scandal must dwell -chiefly thereabouts; not omitting that scantling of general scandal of -the town, that is come to my knowledge; for you must know, since your -death, and your successor _Summerton_’s madness, lampoon has felt a very -sensible decay, and seldom is there any attempt at it, and when there -is, ’tis very heavy and dull, cursed verse, or worse prose: so gone is -the brisk spirit of verse, that us’d to watch the follies and vice of -the men and women of figure, that they could not start new ones faster -than lampoons expos’d them. This deficiency of satire is not from a -scarcity of vices, which abound more than ever, or follies more numerous -than in your time, but from a meer impotence of malice, which tho’ as -general as ever, confines itself to discourse; and railing is its utmost -effort, defaming over one bottle, those they caress over another. Every -man abuses his friend behind his back, and no man ever takes notice of -it, but does the same thing in his turn: And for sincerity, women have -as much: the women grow greater hypocrites than ever, lewder in their -chamber practice, and more formal in publick; they rail at the vices -they indulge; they forsake publick diversions, as plays, _&c._ to gain -the reputation of virtue, to give a greater loose to the domestick -diversions of a bottle and gallant; and hypocrisy heightens their -pleasures. The mode now is not as of old, in all amorous encounters, -every man to his woman, but like nuns in a cloyster, every female has -her _privado_ of her own sex; and the honester part of men, must either -fall in with the modish vice, or live chastly; to both which I find a -great many extreamly averse. There has a terrible enemy arose to the -stage, an abdicate divine, who when he had escaped the pillory for -sedition, and reforming the state, set up for the reformation of the -stage. The event was admirable, fanaticks presented the nonjuror, and -misers and extortioners gave him bountiful rewards: one grave citizen, -that had found the character too often on the stage, and famous for the -ruin of some hundreds of poor under-tradesmen’s families, laid out -threescore pounds in the impression, to distribute among the saints, -that are zealous for God and mammon at the same time: Bullies and -republicans quarrell’d for the _passive obedience_ spark; grave divines -extoll’d his wit, and atheists his religion; the fanaticks his honesty, -the hypocrite his zeal, and the ladies were of his side, because he was -_for submitting to force_. There is yet a greater mischief befall’n the -stage; here are societies set up for _reformation of manners_; troops of -_informers_, who are maintain’d by perjury, serve God for gain, and -ferret out whores for subsistence. This noble society consists of -divines of both churches, fanatick as well as orthodox saints and -sinners, knights of the post, and knights of the elbow, and they are not -more unanimous against immorality in their informations, than for it in -their practice; they avoid no sins in themselves, and will suffer none -in any one else. The fanaticks, that never preached up morality in their -pulpits, or knew it in their dealings, would seem to promote it in the -ungodly. The churchmen, that would enjoy the pleasure of sinners, and -the reputation of saints, are for punishing whores and drinking in all -but themselves. In short, the motive that carries the Popish apostles to -the richer continents, makes these gentlemen so busy in our reformation -money. Nay, reformation is grown a staple commodity, and the dealers in -it are suddenly to be made into a corporation, and their privileges -peculiar are to be perjury without punishment, and lying with impunity. -The whores have a tax laid on them towards their maintenance, in which -they share with captain _W_----, and the justices of the peace; for -_New-Prison_ knows them in all their turns, and twenty or thirty -shillings gives them a license for whoring, till next pay-day; so that -the effect of their punishment only raising the price of the sin, and -the vices of the nation maintain the informers. Drinking, swearing and -whoring are the manufactures they deal in; for should they stretch their -zeal to _cozening, cheating, injury, extortion, oppression, defamation, -secret adulteries, and fornication_, and a thousand other of these more -crying immoralities, the city would rise against these invaders of their -liberties, and the cuckolds one and all, for their own and their wives -sakes, rise against the reformers. These worthy gentlemen, for promoting -the interest of the _Crown Office_, and some such honest place, pick -harmless words out of plays, to indict the players and squeeze twenty -pound a week out of them, if they can, for their exposing pride, vanity, -hypocrisy, usury, oppression, cheating, and the other darling vices of -the master reformers, who owe them a grudge, not to be appeas’d without -considerable offerings; for money in these cases wipes off all defects. - -There are other matters of smaller importance, I shall refer to my next, -as who kisses who in our dominions; that hypocrisy has infected the -stage too, where whores with great bellies would thrust themselves off -for virgins, and bully the audience out of their sight and -understanding; where maids can talk bawdy for wit, and footmen pass on -quality for gentlemen; fools sit as judges on wit, and the ignorant on -men of learning; where the motto is _Vivitur Ingenio_, the dull rogues -have the management and the profits; where farce is a darling, and good -sense and good writing not understood: and this brings to my mind a -thing I lately heard from a false smatterer in poetry behind the scenes, -and which if you see _Ben. Johnson_, I desire you to communicate to him. -A new author, says one, that has wrote a taking play, is writing _a -treatise of Comedy, in which he mauls the learned rogues, the writers, -to some purpose_; he shews what a coxcomb _Aristotle_ was, and what a -company of senseless pedants the _Scaligers_, _Rapins_, _Vossi_, _&c._ -are; proves that no good play can be regular, and that all rules are as -ridiculous as useless. He tells us, _Aristotle_ knew nothing of poetry, -(for he knew nothing of his fragments so extoll’d by _Scaliger_) and -that common sense and nature was not the same in _Athens_ as in -_Drury-lane_; that uniformity and coherence was _green-sleeves_ and -_pudding-pies_, and that irregularity and nonsense were the chief -perfections of the _drama_. That the _Silent Woman_, by consequence was -before the _Trip to the Jubilee_, and the _Ambitious Step-Mother_, -better than the _Orphan_; that _hiccius doctius_ was _Arabick_, and that -_Bonnyclabber_ is the _black broth_ of the _Lacedæmonians_; and thus he -runs on with paradoxes as new as unintelligible; but this noble treatise -being yet in embryo, you may expect a farther account of it in the next, -from, - -_Sir, -Your obliged humble Servant_, - -WILL. PIERRE. - - - - -ANTIOCHUS _to_ LEWIS XIV. _By Mr._ HENRY BAKER. - - -_Dear Brother_, - -You will be surpriz’d, I know, to receive this letter from a stranger; -and of all the damn’d, perhaps, I am the only man from whom you least of -all expect any news; because I have always passed for so impious and -cruel a prince, and my name has given people such horrid ideas of me, -that they think me insensible of pity, as having never practised any in -my life-time. - -When I sat upon the throne of _Syria_, having no more religion than your -_Most Christian Majesty_, I stifled all the dictates of my conscience, -pillaged the temple of the _Jews_, caroused with their blood, and -running from one crime to another, drew infinite desolations every where -after me. But after I had exercised my tyranny on the innocent posterity -of several great kings, and left a thousand monuments of my barbarity, I -found to my sorrow, that I was mortal, and obliged to submit to that -fare, whose attacks feeble nature cannot resist. I then fell into an -abyss, which is enlightened only by those flames which will for ever -roast such monsters as we; and where I was loaded with heavier irons -than any I had plagu’d poor mortals with above. To welcome me into this -place of horror, and refresh me after my voyage, I was plung’d into a -bath of fire and brimstone, cupp’d by a Master-devil, rubb’d, scrubb’d, -_&c._ by a parcel of smoaking, grinning hobgobblins, and afterwards -presented with a musical entertainment of groans, howling, and gnashing -of teeth. I soon began to play my part in this hideous consort, where -despair beat the measure; and because my pains were infinitely greater -than those of others, I immediately asked the reason of my torments, and -was told it was for having hindered the peopling of Hell, by the -multitude of martyrs my long persecutions had made, and of which you -cannot be ignorant, if you delight in useful reading. Since I have been -in this empire of sorrow, where I found the _Pharaohs_, _Ahabs_, -_Jezebels_, _Athaliahs_, _Nebuchadnezzars_, &c. and where I have seen -arrive the _Neroes_, _Dioclesians_, _Decii_,[1] _Philips of Austria_, -[2] _Charles of Valois_, whose names would fill a volume; the recruits -of _Loyola_ arrive every day in search of their captain, but in some -confusion, for fear of meeting _Clement_ and _Ravillac_, who never cease -cursing them. Your apartments, _Most Christian Hero_, has been some -fifty years a rearing, but now they redouble their care, your coming -being daily expected; I give you timely notice of it, that you may take -your measures accordingly. Perhaps you will be offended at this -familiarity, and tell me no man can deserve hell for fighting against -hereticks, under the command of an infallible general; but if you know -the present state of those miter’d leaders, it would not a little -terrify you. _Lucifer_ has turned them into several shapes, and peopl’d -his back yard with them; the place ’tis true, is not so delightful as -your _Menagerie_ and _Trianon_ at _Versailles_, but much excels it in -variety and number of monsters. Your cell is in the same yard, that you -may be near your good friends, who advis’d you to make the habitation of -the shades a desart; for which the prince of darkness hates you -mortally, and designs you something worse than a fistula, or the bull of -_Phalaris_. Your ingenious emissaries, _Marillac_, _la Rapine_, and _la -Chaise_, will meet in the squadrons of _Pluto_ with more invenom’d -dragoons, than those they let loose against their poor countrymen in -_France_: ’twill be their employment to keep this _Menagerie_ clean, -whose stench would otherwise poison the rest of hell. That renegado -_Pelisson_ too makes so odious a figure here, that he frights the -boldest of our jaylors; and his eyes, red with crying for his sins, -which were so much the greater, because they were voluntary, make him -asham’d to look anyone in the face. Our learned think him profoundly -ignorant; yet you must be the _Trajan_ of that _Pliny_, for he is now -writing your history in such a terrible manner, that it will but little -resemble that which your pensionary wits are composing. The voyage -having made him lose some part of his memory, and forget the particulars -of your virtues; he will therefore take me for his model, and draw my -life under your name. Tho’ your dear [3] _Dulcinea_, whose head he -dresses like a girl’s, at the age of threescore and ten, makes the court -of _Proserpine_ rejoice before-hand; yet the deformed [4] author of the -comical romance, cannot laugh, as facetious as he is; I will tell you no -more, because some may think I give this counsel out of my private -interest; for having been always ambitious, it would doubtless grieve me -to see a more wicked and cruel tyrant than myself; but on the faith and -word of one that endures the sharpest of torments, ’tis pure compassion. - -_I am Yours_, &c. - - - - -LEWIS _the_ XIV_th’s Answer_. - - -I just now receiv’d your’s by a courier, who, had he not been too nimble -for me, had been rewarded according to his deserts for his impudent -message. But are you such a coxcomb as to imagine that the most -ambitious monarch upon earth, whose power puts all the princes and -states of _Europe_ into convulsions, can be frighted at the threats of a -wretch condemn’d to everlasting punishments? The insolence of your -comparison, I must confess, threw me into a rage: and not reflecting at -first on the impossibility of the thing, I sent immediately for -_Boufflers_ to dragoon you. But, villain! because your malice has been -rampant for so many ages, must you now level it at the eldest son of the -church, whom the godly _Jesuits_ have already canoniz’d? I am not so -ignorant of the history of _Asia_, tho’ I never read any of the books of -the _Maccabees_; but I know you were both judge and executioner, and -that there is not in the universe one monument consecrated to your -glory. Thanks to the careful _Jesuits_, _la place des victoris_, is a -sufficient proof that my reputation is no _chimera_, and my name, which -is to be seen in golden characters over several monasteries, assures me -of a glorious immortality. ’Tis true, to keep in favour with the church, -I have compell’d a handful of obstinate fools to leave their country and -estates, by forcing them to renounce their God, and implicitly take up -with mine. Therefore the world has no reason to make such a noise about -it. Are you mad to call _Pelisson_, who has read more volumes than a -_rabbi_, and cou’d give lessons of hypocrisy to the most exquisite sect -of the _Pharisees_, a block-head? Your torments are so great, you know -not on whom to spit your venom, and my poor [5] mistress, forsooth, must -suffer from your malice: Is she the worse for being born in the reign of -my grandfather? Pray ask _Boileau_, whose sincerity has cost him many a -tear, what he thinks of her. All the world knows her virtues, and that -she is grown grey in the school of dissimulation and lewdness, which -have render’d her so charming in the feats of love, that she pleases me -more than the youngest beauty; therefore are her wrinkles the objects of -my wonder, and the provocatives of my enervated limbs, instead of being -antidotes; and I would not give a saint a wax-candle to make her -younger. Tho’ I am seiz’d by a cancer on the shoulder, yet I am under no -apprehensions, for I have given a fee to St. _Damian_, who will cure me -of it, as well as of that nauseous malady of _Naples_: And I have -plenipotentiaries now bribing heaven for its friendship, and a new term -of years. Then ’tis in vain for _Lucifer_, or you, ever to expect me; -and when I must leave this terrestial _paradice_, ’twill be with such a -convoy of _Masses_, as will hurry me by the very gate of _Purgatory_, -without touching there. In the mean time correct your saucy liberty, and -let a monarch who wou’d scorn to entertain such a pitiful wretch as thou -art for his pimp, still huff the world, and sleep quietly in his -_seraglio_. - - -_Versailles_, July 14. - -LEWIS R. - - - - -CATHARINE de Medicis, _to the Duchess of_ ORLEANS. - - -_Madam_, - -I have long bewailed your condition, and tho’ I am in a place of horror, -yet I should think myself in some measure happy, if I knew how to -deliver you from those anxieties which torment you. We have some body or -other arrives here daily from _Versailles_, and as my curiosity inclines -me to enquire after your highness, I have received so advantageous a -character of your goodness from all hands, that I think every one ought -to pity you. Your life, madam, has been very unhappy, for you were -married very young to a jealous ill-natur’d prince, who had no love for -you; tho’ no person in the world was fitter either to inspire or receive -it than yourself: However, you have had better luck than his former -wife, which I take to be owing to your prudence, and not his generosity. -The desolations of the _Palatine_, and persecution of a religion you -once approved, must infallibly have given you many uneasy moments, but -your misfortunes did not stop here, for even your domestick pleasures -have been poison’d by the dishonour and injustice of the court you live -in. In short, tho’ I was very unfortunate, yet I think you much more -worthy of compassion: When I married _Henry_ II. I was both young and -handsome, yet his doting on the haughty duchess of _Valentinois_, who -was a grandmother before _Francis_ II. was born, made me pass many -melancholy nights. Notwithstanding the injustice as well as cruelty of -keeping a saucy strumpet under my nose, yet with the veil of prudence -and religion, I easily covered my inclinations, because the pious -cardinal of _Lorrain_, who had an admirable talent to comfort an -afflicted heart, commiserating my condition, gave me wonderful -consolation. As the refreshing cordials of the church soon made me -forget the king’s ill usage of me; so, madam, it is not so much the -infidelity of your husband, as the cruel constraint and jealousy, that -makes me think your life to be miserable; for how great soever your -occasions are, you dare not I know, accept of those assistances, I daily -receive from a plump agreeable prelate, and I am heartily sorry for it. -To divert this discourse, which may perhaps aggravate your uneasiness, -by renewing your necessities, you’ll tell me, I suppose, that I shou’d -have had as much compassion, when _France_ was dy’d with the blood of so -many thousand victims, and that I might easily have moderated the fury -of my son, and of the house of _Guise_; but besides, you must consider, -I was a zealous Papist; and they, you know, think the cutting of poor -hereticks throats is doing heaven good service; so that I beheld the -dreadful massacre of St. _Bartholomew_ with as much satisfaction as ever -I did the most glorious and solemn festival. I am not for it at present, -madam, and could I have been so sooner, it would have been much more for -my ease. All my comfort is, that I am not by myself in a strange and -unknown country: for the old duchess, who robbed me of my due -benevolence in the other world, continually follows me to upbraid me; -the _Guises_ rave, brandishing bloody daggers in their hands; and every -hour I meet with numbers of my former acquaintance and nearest -relations, but I avoid their company as much as I can, for the love of -my dear cardinal, who continues as great a gallant as ever. I ask no -masses of you, for the dead are not a farthing the better for them. But, -madam, since all the world has not so good an opinion of me at -_Brantome_, let me conjure you not to let my memory be too much -insulted. Some may say I was as cunning as _Livia_, that I was even with -my husband, and govern’d my children; but their fate did not answer my -care: For _Francis_ liv’d but a little time, _Elizabeth_ found her tomb -in the arms of a jealous husband, the queen of _Navarre_ was a wandering -star, _Charles_ a cautious coxcomb, that sacrificed all to his safety; -and _Henry_, on whom I had founded all my hopes, a dissolute debauchee, -whom the justice of heaven would not spare. You know his history, and if -you shou’d see a tragedy, of the like nature acted on your stage, let -your constancy, which makes you respected even in hell, support you. Let -old [6] _Messalina_ enjoy the famous honour of the royal bed; you need -not blush at it, since all the world esteems you as much as they. - - - - -_The Answer of the Duchess of_ ORLEANS _to_ CATHARINE de Medicis. - - -’Twas with much reason you pity me; and tho’ I have said nothing all -this while, yet I have not thought the less. If the practice of our -court did not teach me to dissemble, I should give myself some ease, by -imparting many things to you, which would fill you with horror; and then -you would find that the cruelties of your sons were trifles in -comparison of these. The most impartial censurers of barbarity maintain -that the massacre of St. _Bartholomew_ was milder than the present -persecution of the Protestants: Ambition was the chiefest motive of the -_Guises_; but now their cruelties are covered with the cloak of -religion; for the virtuous favourite [7] _Sultaness_, with the pitious -[8] _Mufti_ in waiting, are resolved to cause the christians to be more -cruelly persecuted than they were at _Algiers_, and the _Roman church_ -is resolved, at any rate, to merit the name of the blood-thirsty beast. -They value not exposing the reputation of princes; I blush for my race, -and am often obliged to swallow my tears. I believe the efficacy of -masses no more than you, therefore I will not offer you any. I am very -glad to hear the cardinal of _Lorrain_ proves so constant; for a prelate -of his talent and constitution must certainly be a great consolation to -a distressed princess. _Brantome_ who has so much flatter’d you, may do -it again; and tho’ _Sancy_ has been too sincere, yet he dares not -contradict him in your presence. I hope to see the ruins of my country -rais’d up again; for tho’ our ambitious monarch huffs and hectors all -Christendom, yet his game to me seems very desperate, and I believe -he’ll prove the dog in the fable; since he has so depopulated and -impoverish’d his dominions by persecutions, that those pious drones the -_Monks_, only can support the church’s grandeur in their faces, with -three story-chains; the rest of his people being reduc’d to wooden-shoes -and garlick. Tho’ our _Gazettes_ are little better than romances, yet -they will serve to divert you and your cardinal, when not better -employ’d; and I wish I could send them to you weekly. ’Tis true, great -numbers set out daily from hence, for your country; and among them, -people of the best quality, but I carefully avoid all commerce with -them; and tho’ I have a wonderful esteem for you, take it not amiss, -madam, if I endeavour never to see you. - - - - -_Cardinal_ MAZARINE, _to the Marquis_ de BARBASIUX. - - -I am surpriz’d to think you have profited so little by your father’s -example: as great a beast he was, he govern’d himself better than you; -for contenting himself with pillaging all _France_, according to our -maxims, he never attempted the life of any man, nor ever set any [9] -_Ravillacs_ to work. Is it not a horrible thing to see the [10] servant -of a minister of state suffer upon the wheel, and publish the shame of -him that set him to work? You were mightily mistaken in the choice of -your villain; for whenever you have a king to dispatch, you must employ -a _Jesuit_, or some novice inspired by their _religious society_; and -had you been so wise, the prince [11] you had a plot against wou’d not -be now in the way, to hinder the designs of a [12] king, for whom I have -the tenderness of a father, who was always under my subjection, and -wou’d have married my niece, if I had pleas’d. I fell into a cold sweat -even in the midst of my fire and brimstone, at the news of your -conspiracy; because it so severely reflected on his reputation. Ought -you to have exposed his credit in so dubious an enterprize? Is it not -sufficient that poets set upon him [13] _Mont Pagnotte_, whilst other -princes gave glorious examples at the head of their troops? That they -reproach him with incest, sodomy, adultery, and an unbridled passion for -the relict of a poor [14] poet, who is a turn-spit here below, and who -had nothing to keep him from starving when upon earth, but the pension -which the charity of _Anne of Austria_ granted to his infirmities, -rather than his works, tho’ very diverting. What was your aim in this -cowardly design? wou’d you have more servants, and more whores? Or, -ought you to effect that, to revive those scenes of cruelty and -treachery which we banish’d after the death of the most eminent cardinal -_Richlieu_? All the wealth you can raise, will never amount to the -treasures I was master of; and how much is there now left, ask the duke -of _Mazarine_, and my nephew of _Nevers_; one has been the bubble of the -priests, and the other of his pleasures. So that the children of the -first will hardly share one year of my revenue. His wife for several -years was no charge to him, she for her beauty, being kept by strangers; -whilst he fool’d away those vast riches he had by her. In short, you see -the praying coxcomb I made choice of, which, I must confess, I did when -I was in my cups, has thro’ his zeal and bigotry ruin’d all, even my -most beautiful statues; and that there is a curse entail’d upon such -estates as begin with a miracle, and end with a prodigy. I was born at -_Mazare_, without any other advantage than that of my beauty; but as a -young fellow can scarce desire a better portion than that, in _Italy_, -so it mov’d cardinal _Anthony_ to lead me lovingly from his chamber to -his closet, where on a soft easy couch, he preach’d to me morals after -the _Italian_ fashion; by which, and some other virtuous actions of the -same stamp, I became the richest favourite in the universe. You may as -well as I, heap a mighty treasure, and lose it foolishly. Do not be -guilty then of murder, for things so uncertain in the possession. Poor -_Louvois_! who left you all, who drank more than _Alexander_, and -thiev’d better than _Colbert_, or I, has not now water to quench his -thirst. You will undoubtedly meet the same destiny; for this is the -residence of traitors, murtherers, thieves, and all other notorious -villains. ’Tis not altogether so pleasant a place as [15] _Meudon_ and -_Chaville_; for we drink nothing but _Aqua-fortis_, and eat burning -_charcoal_; all happiness is banish’d, misery only triumphs; and -notwithstanding all those lying stories the priests may tell you, yet -you’ll be strangly surpriz’d, when you come to judge it by your own -experience. - - - - -_The Answer of Monsieur le Marquis de_ BARBASIEUX, _to Cardinal_ -MAZARINE. - - -Your eminence I find, is in a great passion, because my father did not -get an estate in your service: Must you therefore abuse him, and turn -that as a crime upon me, which has been practis’d ever since there have -been kings in the world? If your talent only lay in pillaging and -plundering, must it therefore prescribe to mine? And do you think the -glory of taking away by dagger or poison the enemies of one’s prince, -deserves less immortality, than of ruining of his subjects? You have, I -confess, very meritoriously eterniz’d your name by that method, for -which reason you ought in conscience to allow me the liberty to find out -another. You are much in the wrong on’t, to complain of the duke of -_Mazarine_, who did you the honour to think you were only in purgatory, -and lavish’d your treasures upon bigots, in hopes to pray you out of it. -If he in a holy fit of zeal, dismember’d your fine statues, which -perhaps too often recalled to your memory the pious sermons of cardinal -_Anthony_, he is severely punish’d in a libel made against him, in -vindication of your beauteous niece. If that satire reaches your regions -below, you’ll soon be convinced what a coxcomb you were when you chose -the worst of men, to couple with the most charming of women. This, with -several other passages of your life, makes me not much wonder at your -condemning me by your cardinal’s authority, to drink _Aquafortis_, and -eat burning charcoal; it may perhaps be a proper diet for _Epicurean_ -cardinals and _Italians_, who love hot liquors, and high-season’d -ragoos; but the lords of _Chaville_ and _Meudon_ do not desire your -entertainments. How do you know, I beseech you, but I may take the cell -of the young Marquis _d’Ancré_ at [16] _Mont Valerine_; there, by a long -penitence, to purge me of those sins you say I have committed? Therefore -if you reckon me in the number of those reprobates, doom’d to people the -infernal shades, time will at last make it appear, that your eminence -has reckoned without your host. - - - - -MARY I. _of_ England _to the_ Pope. - - -_Most Holy Father_, - -The malignant planet that governed at my birth, so influenc’d all the -faculties of my soul, that I was the most outragious and barbarous -princess till that time mounted the _English_ throne; and as it is no -extraordinary thing to continue in the same temper, in a country -inhabited only with tyrants, and the butchers of their subjects, so you -ought not to be surprised, if I am not now dispossessed of it. I had not -long troubled the world before my mother [17] was divorced, and I myself -declared incapable of succeeding _Henry_ VIII. _Anne Boleyn_ was then -brought to the royal bed; and what was worse, with her was introduced a -religion so conformable to the laws of God, that it never suited with my -inclinations. The proud rival of _Catherine_, was afterwards sacrific’d -to the inconstancy of her voluptuous husband; but that insipid religion, -to my grief, was not confounded with her; for the young and simple -_Edward_ countenanced it during his reign. But then came my turn, and -you know, sovereign pontiff, with what pride and malice I mounted the -throne; the means I used to destroy that cursed heretical doctrine; the -pleasure I took in shedding my subjects blood; what magnificence and -splendor I gave to the mass; how barbarously I treated that innocent and -beautiful princess _Jane Gray_; with what severity I used my sister -_Elizabeth_, and also the immoderate joy that seized my precious soul, -when I married a prince who had, as well as I, the good quality of being -cruel to the highest degree, is not unknown to you. Notwithstanding what -I said in the beginning of my letter, you may, perhaps, think my -sentiments now altered: but I assure you the contrary, and that I cannot -behold with patience your present insensibility and mildness. Is it -possible you can suffer a religion, destitute of all ornaments, that has -nothing but truth and simplicity to recommend it, to get the advantage -of your _Rome_, which reigns in blood and purple, subsists by falshood -and idolatry, and sets up and pulls down kings? how can you endure it? -what a horrid shame and weakness is this? are there no more _Ravillacs_? -is there neither powder nor daggers, in the arsenal of the Jesuits? have -they forgot how to build wheels, gibbets, and scaffolds? or is your -malice, envy, hatred, and fury, seized with a lethargy? ’s death! holy -father, I am distracted when I think that nothing succeeds in _England_, -where I took so much pains, and practised so much cruelty to establish -Popery, and root out the doctrine of the apostles; and where your pious -emissaries following my zeal, had invented most admirable machines to -sacrifice, with _James_ I. all the enemies of your Anti-christian -Holiness. Do you sleep? and must _France_ only brandish the glorious -flambeau of persecution? Consider, I pray, that I employ the best of my -time in imprecations against the deserters from your church; that I so -inflamed my blood in those transports, that it threw me into a dropsy, -which hurried me to the grave. My husband, who was too much of my temper -to love me, was very little concerned: In short, that filthy disease -stifled me, a certain presage of the continual thirst I now suffer. But -I once more beseech you, most holy father, to re-inforce your squadrons, -to join them with the Most Christian King’s, and, with your holy -benediction, give them strict orders to grant no quarters to the -disciples of St. _Paul_. You will infinitely oblige by it both me and -_Lucifer_, who is now as zealous a _Romanist_ as your _eldest son_, and -who, like him, would not willingly suffer any but good Papists, the -friends and pensioners of _Versailles_, those sworn enemies of liberty -and property, in his dominions. I am so ill-natur’d, that my husband -_Philip_ is as cautious of embracing me, as he was in the other world; -but that’s no misfortune either to Earth or Hell, for we could produce -nothing but a monster between us, which would be the terror of mankind, -and horror of devils. - - - - -_The_ POPE_’s Answer to Queen_ MARY I. - - -You are too violent, dear madam, and men of my age and grandeur require -more moderation. I am acquainted with your history, and know your zeal; -by the same token, you need not waste your lungs to acquaint me with -either the one or the other. To be free with you, I am not of the humour -to espouse madly other peoples passions, tho’ I should leave the triple -crown destitute of all pomp and greatness. But I will make the hereticks -blot out of their writings, if possible, the names of _Antichrist_, -_devouring Dragon_, _Wolf disguis’d in sheeps-skin_, and several others -as abusive. Do you not believe people are weary of paying a blind -obedience to the see of _Rome_? Imperious _France_ has made us sensible -of it; and it is not the fault of the _eldest son of the Church_, if he -does not dethrone his mother. Ecclesiastical censures are now out of -fashion, and no more minded than pasquinades. We were scorn’d and -ridicul’d in your father’s time; and tho’ you were as handsome as my -_quondam_ mistress, _Donna Maria di S. Germano_, you would not oblige me -to put up fresh affronts for your sake. Your husband is to blame to -treat you with such indifference, and I think it very ill for an -infected worm-eaten carcase to despise so devout a queen. But I cannot -imagine why the popes, who live all under the same zone with you, suffer -such coldness. Suppose your husband should, like a heretick, despise -their exhortations, one of their decrees has power enough to divorce -you; which in time, I hope, may advance your grandeur; for we hear -_Pluto_ is in love with you for your zeal, and _Proserpine_ is given -over by the physicians. Therefore take my advice, and drink as little -water as you can; for being dropsical, the water of _Styx_ must needs be -prejudicial to you, and the church would lose an admirable good friend. -I offer you no indulgences, they are pure mountebank drugs, and were you -got no farther yet than Purgatory, have not the virtue to bring you -out. But grant they had that power, as your amours stand now, I suppose -you would not desire it; so, till I have the happiness of wishing your -imperial majesty much joy, _I am_, &c. - - - - -HARLEQUIN _to Father_ la CHAISE. - - -Since we were of the same trade, with this difference only, that I -compos’d farces to make the world laugh, and that you invent tragedies -that gave them horror: I believe, reverend father, you will not condemn -the liberty I take of writing to you. - -In the first place, I beseech your reverence, not to put your penitents -out of conceit with those harmless diversions which make me and my -brother-players live so plentifully; but be pleased to take our small -flock into your protection: that power lies in the breast of you and -your pious society: and who wou’d grudge it to such holy men, who have -no other aim than settling and satisfying men’s consciences, by clearing -all the controverted difficulties of Christianity, and rendring religion -so plain and easy, that our enemies cannot find the least doubt or -difficulty in it. Nay, like a dextrous artist you can, with your -admirable morals, remove the justest scruples; for they give so pious an -air, so devout a shade to the greatest crimes, that they enchant the -world, and hide their deformity, without opposing the licentiousness of -passions, or destroying their pleasures or intention. These admirable -talents, most holy confessor, open to your society the closets and -hearts of princes, and bring all the lovers of voluptuousness and -barbarity to be your confessionaries. Truly, reverend father, your fame -is infinite, and the great St. _Loyola_ may be proud of having so many -righteous disciples. But these miracles make the world believe him -something related to _Simon Magus_; for without inchantments ’tis -impossible to do so many prodigies. The lameness in his feet, and megrim -he’s daily troubled with, by being too near a hot furnace of brimstone, -makes him so peevish and out of humour, that he cannot write to any of -you; therefore look upon me as his secretary, and not a-jot the lesser -saint for having been upon the stage; all _Paris_ can witness for me, -that as soon as I laid aside my comical mask and habit, I could, upon -occasion, look as demure and devout as a fresh pardoned penitent; so -that the employment is neither above my gravity, nor I hope above my -sincerity and capacity; for I have often had the honour of shewing my -parts before his most christian majesty in his _seraglio_, to make him -more prolifick, and more disposed to the mighty work of propagation. -But, reverend father, ’tis time now to tell you, as a good catholick and -your friend, that we are so scandaliz’d here at his conduct, that we -cannot believe he follows your holy advice; and were it not for this -doubt, and our sollicitations, _Lucifer_ had last summer sent _Loyola_ -under the command of Monsieur _Luxembourg_, to dragoon you. _Zounds!_ -says he, _is the order that daily sent me so many subjects revolted?_ -’Tis true, the rogues _Ravillac_ and _Clement_ have a little disgrac’d -you, but we don’t value now what they say, for the wits have espoused -your quarrel, and blinded the eyes of detraction. Indeed it is no wonder -to us, since they sing to _Apollo_’s harp, which had the power to claim -the transports of _Jupiter_. Is there any thing so charming as the -discourse of [18] _Ariste_ and _Eugene_, and that little _Je ne sçai -quoi_, they speak so wittily of? Who can resist the art of good -invention in the work of wit, or an exquisite choice of good verses? And -who would not be charm’d with all those panegyricks upon the ladies? Is -not once reading of them a thousand times more diverting, than those -profound writings you so prudently forbid your penitents the perusal of? -I own indeed, that this conduct is not altogether so apostolical, but -’tis much easier than to be always puzzling and hammering our parables. -’Tis certain, most reverend father, shou’d you leave the sacred writ -open to all readers, it would fare with a thousand good souls, as with -king _Ahasuerus_, who became favourable to the true religion, by reading -a true chronicle, how many blind wretches think ye would see clear? How -many favourites would be hang’d, and _Mordecai_’s raised to honour? And -how many _Jesuits_ would be treated as the priests of _Baal_? But you, -I’m sure, will take care to hinder that; for truly ’twould be contrary -to your ecclesiastical prudence; and it is much safer for you to darken -the divine lights, and confound by sophisms the sacred truths of holy -writ: for what would become of your church, if the clouds were once -dispersed, since it flourishes by their favour, and the protection of -ignorance? Nothing can keep up the credit of a repudiated cheat, whose -shams are so notorious, and whole equipage so different from that of the -legitimate spouse of _Jesus Christ_, that neither he, nor any of his -faithful servants know or own her, but ignorance and falshood. I ask -your pardon, most reverend father, these expressions flow so naturally -from my subject, that they have escaped my sincerity; and I own this is -not the style of a flatterer. But to atone for my fault, I will give you -some wholsome advice, which is, _to make hay while the sun shines_, for -you must not expect much fair weather in these doleful quarters. Those -worthy gentlemen called _Confessors_, being looked upon here to be no -better than so many _Ignes fatui_, that lead their followers into -precipices; for which reason they are not allowed ice with their liquor. -This I can allure you to be true, _in verbo histrionis_: Therefore since -you know what you must trust to, I need not advise a person of your -profound parts, what measures to take. _Amen._ - - - - -_Father_ la CHAISE_’s Answer to_ HARLEQUIN. - - -Tho’ you convers’d with none but impudent lousy rhimers, yet you are not -ignorant, you little jack-pudding of the stage, that all comparisons are -odious; and that there can be none between the confessor of a monarch, -and a buffoon. But to answer your letter with the moderation and -prudence of a _Jesuit_, I will suppose the first part of it not meant to -me. And now to take into consideration the essential points in it: have -we not proscribed heresy by sound of trumpet? And notwithstanding all -the pretty books we have published, and the cajoling tricks we have -used, is not heresy still the same? But to be serious, _Harlequin_, good -_Roman Catholicks_ must follow no other lights than those of tradition; -and they, who are so incredulous and obstinate as not to believe it, -must have their eyes opened with the sword. ’Twould be a fine -enterprize, wou’d it not, and very profitable to the church, to condemn -images, candles, holy-water, beads, scapularies, relicks, with an -hundred others, which are so many golden mines, and offer only to bigots -the slovenly equipage of _Calvin_’s reformation? Devotion meerly -spiritual, is too flat and insipid; therefore we must set it off with -jubilees, pilgrimages, processions, drums, trumpets, crosses, banners, -and all the mountebank tricks, and noble nick-nacks of St. _Germain_’s -fair. If I did not know that jesting was an habitual sin in you, I wou’d -never pardon you; for the _Society of Jesus_ does not teach us to -forgive injuries. Tell St. _Loyola_, the first of us that shall be sent -post to mighty _Lucifer_, to desire his assistance in those important -affairs our great monarch has undertaken by his instigation, and which -are too tedious now to relate, shall put into his portmantle some ice to -refresh him, plaisters for his megrim, and ointment for his burns: tell -him also, that the memory of the glorious prophet _Mahomet_, is not more -respected than his; and that I am, - -_His most zealous, -and very humble Servant_, - -la CHAISE. - - - - -_The Duke of_ ALVA _to the_ CLERGY _of_ FRANCE. - - -I believe, worthy gentlemen, you are very well satisfy’d that I am -damn’d; and---- indeed there was little likelihood that such a monster -as myself should enjoy happiness, after having committed so much -wickedness, and taken so much pleasure in it. I took a fancy to acts of -cruelty from my very cradle, and with great fidelity serv’d _Philip_ II. -The celebrated apostle of the _Gentiles_ never made so many miserable -wretches when he was as violent a zealot of the law; I, like him, made -use of chains, racks, fire, and all that an ingenious fury cou’d imagine -most tormenting; but it was never any part of my destiny to be converted -at last like him. Thus I went on in my iniquities, and became the -strongest brute that bigottry ever debauch’d; so that at my first -arrival to Hell, there was never a Devil of the whole pack but fell a -trembling, tho’ he had been never so much accustomed to such company -before. But, gentlemen, why are you not become wise by my example? For -you must not flatter yourselves, that the difference of our professions -makes any in our crimes. You are warriors when you please; for the -monastick soldiery follow’d the duke of _Mayeney_’s standard during the -league; crowned themselves with immortal shame at the barbarous triumph -of St. _Bartholomew_; and shoulder’d the musket after they had preached -those bloody sermons, which made christians treat their fellow-creatures -like beasts of prey. I confess, I never troubled my head about scruples -of conscience, and if I have not obeyed that article of the decalogue, -_Thou shalt not kill_, I never roared out with a wide mouth, as the -priests of the _Roman Church_, persecute, imprison, kill, destroy, force -them to obey. My fury came only from your brethren, who had so -thoroughly corrupted me, that I thought Heaven would be my reward, if I -butcher’d all they were pleased to stigmatize with heresy. So I gave a -loose to my passions, as you may read in history, where, I think, they -have used me but too kindly. To seduce men of weak understandings is no -extraordinary matter; but that princes, who ought to have a competent -knowledge of every thing, should be cheated by you, is a miracle to me. -No age of the world ever saw a greater example of it, than in my master -_Philip_, whose natural sloth, and besotted bigottry, gave so fair a -field to these ecclesiastical impostors, so fair an opportunity to -manage him as they pleased; and his father’s [19] ashes are a sufficient -proof of it. Instead of setting before his eyes the example of that -invincible prince, these sanctify’d villains only plunged him deeper in -superstition and idolatry. And as a domineering lazy lord of a country -village, will never go out of his own parish, so he never travelled -farther than from _Madrid_ to the _Escurial_. His wife, father, son, and -brother, felt the effects of their barbarous doctrine. And, to leave -behind him a pious idea of his soul, when he was dying, he ordered his -crown and coffin to be set before him. This was hypocrisy with a -witness, but that is no crime in a zealot. You’ll tell me perhaps, I -direct my discourse to improper persons, who know not the history of -_Philip_ of _Austria_, ignorance being common enough in those of your -fraternity, yet let me tell you, I am not mistaken; for the diabolical -spirit that now possesses you, is the very same that influenced the -priests of my time; and I may safely affirm, that _France_ is the -theatre of cruelty and iniquity. Your monarch, who is much such another -saint as my master, spares the poor Protestants lives, for no other -reason, but to make, by his inhuman torments, death more desirable to -them. These, and a thousand more unjust actions does he commit, to -satiate your hellish vanity, which would for ever domineer in the city -built on seven mountains. To this you will answer, What doth it signify -if we make him persecute the Protestants, murther their kings, and keep -no faith or treaties with them, since it encreases our power, and -propagates our religion? But, gentlemen, when you come to be where I am, -you will, I’m certain, sing another tune. - - - - -_The Answer of the_ CLERGY _of_ FRANCE _to the Duke of_ ALVA. - - -Had you made as sincere a confession in the days of yore, as you do now, -you might, for your zeal in persecuting heresy, have obtain’d an ample -absolution of all your sins, tho’ they had been never so numerous and -black, and been a glorious saint in the _Roman_ calendar; which induces -us to believe, your zeal tended rather towards the propagation of your -own power and interest, than that of the church. Thus in cheating us, -you likewise cheated yourself; and we are not sorry at your calamities. -But, does it become you, who once fill’d _Flanders_ and _Spain_ with -horror, to reproach the apostolick legions with the noble effects of -their fervency? And was it not absolutely necessary, after we had once -preached the destruction of the Protestants, that _Lewis_ the Great, to -compleat his glory, and our satisfaction, should send his holy troops to -burn, ravish, and pillage at discretion; that he might say with an -emperor of _Rome_, whom he very much resembles, _Let them hate, so they -fear me_? Where, Sir, do you find us commanded to keep faith with -hereticks, or suffer their princes to live, when ’tis against our -interest? Does not the _Roman_ church dispense with these little -_peccadillo’s_? And are not those who wear her cloth, and eat her bread, -oblig’d to obey her precepts? What pleases us most is to hear a whining -recreant as thou art, sing _peccavi_ at this time of day, and pretend to -remorse of conscience. For your comfort, you may desire _Cerberus_, if -you please, to join in the consort with you; but rest assured, that if -you had three mouths like that triple-headed cur, your barking would be -all in vain. - - - - -PHILIP _of_ AUSTRIA _to the_ DAUPHINE. - - -What do you mean, worthy kinsman, by pretending to be a man of honour! -Does it become a person of your birth? Do you find any precedent for it -in your family? Did your father make himself formidable by it? Or do you -find in history, that any merciful or generous prince made himself so -great, or reigned so prosperously for almost sixty years, as your -debauched and perjured father has done, who is now the terror and -scourge of _Europe_, and will be its tyrant, if treachery and gold can -prevail? But do you think those things to be crimes in sovereigns? If he -has indulg’d his lust, does he not severely persecute heresy? And -besides, does not his [20] mistress constantly pray and offer sacrifice? -You know she’s old enough to be prudent, and lives upon the gravity of -her age, since she stretches her devotion, even to the stage, by the -same token, she will suffer none of her husband’s [21] diverting farces -to be acted there any more. Thank Heaven therefore for sending you that -bountiful patroness from the [22] new world, who is the comfort and -preservation of your father and his kingdoms; and tho’ your mother was -my near relation, yet I am not ashamed to see so pure and zealous a -saint supply her place in the royal bed. I wonder she has not yet -prevailed with you to have more regard for the interest of the _Roman -Church_; to promote the grandeur, whereof I destroy’d many thousands of -its enemies, by the ministry of the duke of _Alva_, and order’d my -father’s bones to be dug out of the ground and burnt, for having -tolerated _Luther_’s heresy. Otherwise I should never have concern’d -myself about it, supposing none but flegmatick coxcombs would espouse a -church which does not keep open house all the year round, and won’t -pardon the greatest crimes for money. You know, I don’t doubt, what my -jealousy cost my [23] son and [24] wife, and how I treated the [25] -conqueror at _Levanto_: to balance that account with Heaven, I gave -largely to the priests, built monasteries, went to processions, was -loaded like a mule with beads and relicks, and by this means passed for -a saint. And this I think may properly enough be called a good religion. -’Tis true, I never saw any engagement but in my closet, or at a -distance, like your prudent father: what then, does the world talk less -of me, or him for that? The end of my life, I must confess, was -something singular, for the worms serv’d an execution upon my carcase -before the time; and so we hear they do his. But what does that signify, -so a man satisfies his own humour? Be not infatuated then with -vain-glory; for if they, who are exempt from the flames of hell, boast -of having angels, saints, and martyrs for their companions, we can brag -of having popes, cardinals, emperors, kings, queens, jesuits, monks, and -priests in abundance. I must own, our walks have not the charming -fountains and shades of [26] _Versailles_, and the _Escurial_; and that -it is always as hot weather with us here, as with the good folks under -the _Torrid Zone_: but such a trifle as this ought not to make you shun -the company of so many choice friends, as have an entire affection for -you. - - - - -The DAUPHINE’S Answer To PHILIP of Austria. - - -_Neither the examples you have quoted, nor those which are daily before -my eyes, have power enough to pervert me, I have a veneration for -virtue, which you, forsooth, call the quality of a coxcomb; and an -abhorrence for all that bears the stamp of vice, tho’ you have -illustrated it with the prosperous and glorious reign of the_ French -_monarch. But were the first unknown to me, I would not look for it in -your life; since, according to your best friends, it is a thing you -never practised. As sons have no authority to condemn the conduct of -their fathers, so I will not presume to examine into that of_ Lewis XIV. -_But tell me, I beseech you, what advantages you reaped from your -bigottry and superstition? For my part, had I some of the ashes of every -saint, in the_ Roman Calendar, _in my snuff-box, and carried beads as -big as cannon-bullets about me, I should not believe myself either a -better christian, or less exposed to danger. But to what purpose did -you, who never exposed your royal person in battle, arm yourself with -all those imaginary preservatives? Or can you say they defended you from -being devoured alive by millions of vermine, that punished you in this -life, for the iniquities you daily committed, and were only the prelude -to more terrible punishment. Let not my indifference for the church of_ -Rome _break your rest; I have no power at present, and I can’t tell what -my sentiments would be, had I a crown on my head: but it now cruelly -troubles me, to see_ France _so weakened by the dispersion of so many -thousand innocent people: and did my opinion signify any more in our -councils than wind, I would advise the recalling of them. But the nymph, -you see, with so much satisfaction, supply the place of your grandchild, -and who has more power now than ever, is there as absolute as a_ -dictator. _The_ French _monarchy, which has subsisted for so many ages, -might be still supported without her; she being good for nothing that I -know of, but to instruct youth in the nicest ways of debauchery; -therefore I could wish the king would transport her to her native soil, -and make her governess of the_ American _monkies; a fitter employment -for her than that she usurps over our princesses. To deal plainly with -you, I have no ambition to see your jesty, being satisfy’d with knowing -you from publick report; so will carefully avoid coming near your_ -torrid zone, _if ’tis possible for a man to be any time a king of_ -France, _without it_. - - - - -JUVENAL _to_ BOILEAU. - - -Since we don’t dispatch couriers every day from the kingdom of _Pluto_, -you ought not to be surprized, that I have not had an opportunity till -now, of telling you what sticks in my stomach. I thought your first -satires very admirable, your expressions just and laboriously turn’d, -yet charming and natural. Were the distribution of rewards in my power, -I should certainly give you something for your _Art of Poetry_: but for -your _Lutrin_, that master-piece of your wit, that highest effort of -your imagination, I see nothing in it worthy of you, but the -verification. Every one owns you can write, nay, your very enemies allow -it; but you know a metamorphosis requires an entire change; therefore, -since you resolve to imitate _Virgil_, you should have made choice of -noble heroes. He that travestied the _Æneis_, understood it better than -you, and did not fatigue himself so much; and as he was a man of clear -and good sense, has judiciously remark’d, that his queen disguised like -a country-wench, is infinitely beyond your clockmaker’s wife dress’d -like an empress. But let us leave this subject, which now it is too late -to amend, since what is done cannot be undone. What did you mean, you I -say, who have been accused of stealing my lines, and who, to deal -honestly with you, have often followed the same road I have traced? What -did you mean, I say, by reflecting on particulars in your satire against -women: Did I ever set you that example? Is not my sixth satire against -the sex in general; and when I look back as far as the reigns of -_Saturn_ and _Rhea_ for [27] modesty, do I pretend the least shadow of -it is left upon the earth? Unthinking fool! those different characters -you have drawn, will make you so many particular enemies; and I -question, if the patroness you have chosen can secure you from their -claws. - -If an affected zeal inspires you with so much veneration for a saint of -the _Italian_ fashion, in truth you ought to have burnt your incense so -privately, that the smoke might not have offended others. How can the -bard that boasts of eating no flesh in _Lent_, that would frankly -discipline himself in the face of the godly, like one of the [28] -militia of St. _Francis_, adore a golden cow, and adorn an idol each -blast of wind can overthrow, with those garlands which should be -preserv’d for _the statues of the greatest heroes_! She is, it is true, -very singular in her kind; but will you stain your name, of _illustrious -poet_, by creeping before a walking mummy of her superannuated -gallantry? your sordid interest has made you a traytor to _Satire_; and -thereby you occasion here continual divisions, [29] _Chaquelian_ and -_St. Amant_ have been at cuffs with [30] _Moliere_ and _Cornielle_, -because you have not treated them so civilly as your [31] _Urgande_. The -two first ridicule your sordid covetous humour, and say you learnt that -baseness while you belong’d to the _Register’s Office_. The other two, -who were perhaps of your trade, defend the honour of your extraction. -But _St. Amant_[32], who will never forget the unworthy character you -have given him concerning his poverty, which he swears is false; and -submitting his verses to the judgment of unprejudiced persons, for which -you ridicule him, said in a haughty tone, (which set us all a laughing) -that when he was a gentleman of the chamber in ordinary to the queen of -_Poland_, and embassador extraordinary at the coronation of the queen of -_Sweden_, he kept several footmen of better quality than yourself. -_Chaquelian_, who cannot say so much for himself, is content with -singing the terrible valour of the duke _de Nevers_’s lackeys, who kept -time with their cudgels on your shoulders. We were forced to call for a -bottle to appease this war; and _St. Amant_, taking the glass in his -hand, swore by his maker, he had rather you had call’d him drunkard than -fool, tho’ he drinks very moderately in this place, where it is no great -scandal to be thirsty. Be not concerned at this paragraph, because the -rest of my letter sufficiently testifies the esteem I have for you, and -my concern for your welfare: therefore to preserve both, renounce your -sordid way of praising vice, and employ your happy talent in teaching -good manners, and correcting the bad, which will be an employment worthy -of your great genius, and is the only way to recommend you to the good -opinion of the learned ancients. - - - - -BOILEAU_’s Answer to_ JUVENAL. - - -_Illustrious Ghost_, - -A messenger from the Muses never fill’d me with so much transport, as -the first sight of your letter; but I had not read six lines, before I -wish’d you had never done me that honour. To praise my _Satires_ and -fall foul upon my _Lutrin_ (which made me sweat more drops of water, -than your drunkard _St. Amant_ (since I must call him so) ever drank of -wine) is no favour. After many laborious and fruitless endeavours, -finding, to my great grief and distraction, I could not match you in -wit, I resolv’d if possible to out-do you in malice, which made me take -the liberty of romancing a little on _St. Amant_, falling foul upon -people’s characters and manners, and treating several scurvy poets more -roughly than you did the _Theseis_ of _Codrus_, when you sang, - - _Semper ego auditor tantum nunquamne reponam?_ - _Vexatus toties rauci Therseide Codri?_ - -Thus suffering the gall of my heart to flow thro’ the channel of my pen, -I procur’d myself enemies in abundance, and since I must confess all to -you, some stripes with a bull’s-pizzle, which was a most terrible -mortification to my shoulders; but I bore all this with the patience of -a philosopher, as will appear by the following lines. - - _Let_ Codrus _that nauseous pretender to wit,_ - _Condemn all my works before courtier and cit;_ - _I bear all with patience, whatever he says,_ - _And value as little his scandal as praise._ - _Vain-glory no longer my genius does fire,_ - _’Tis interest alone tunes the strings of my lyre._ - _Integrity’s nought but a plausible sham,_ - _For money I praise, and for money I damn._ - _Old politic bards, for fame have no itching,_ - _The_ Apollo _I court, is the steam of a kitchin_. - -The four first lines, I must own, are something against the grain; and -the natural inclination I have to rail, and be thought an excellent -poet, gives my tongue the lie; but the four last, which shew more -prudence than wit, reconcile that matter. ’Tis certainly, illustrious -bard, more difficult to please the world now than it was in your time; -for if I write satire, I am beaten for it; if I praise, I am call’d a -mercenary flatterer, which so disheartens me, that I address myself now -to my Gardener only; and do not doubt but some busy nice critick will be -censuring this poem also. Not being in the best humour when I writ it, -perhaps it may appear something dark and abstruse; but I can easily -excuse that, by maintaining that ’tis impossible for the best author in -the world to keep up always to the same strain, Have you ever heard of -the tales of the _Peau d’Asne_, & _Grisedilis_? if _Proserpine_ had any -little children, ’twould be a most agreeable diversion for them, and I -wou’d send it ’em for a present. Tho’ that author furnishes you with -sufficient matter to laugh at me, yet I must confess he has found the -art of making something of a trifle. Every one here learns his verses by -heart; and in spight of my translation of _Longinus_, which makes it so -plainly appear, I understand _Greek_, and know something of poetry, my -book begins to be despis’d. Wou’d it not break a Man’s heart to see such -impertinent stuff preferr’d before so many sublime pieces? But, as for -your glory that will eternally subsist, and nothing can destroy it, -since time has not already done it. - - -DIANA _of_ Poictiers, _Mistress to_ HEN. II. _of_ France, _to Madam_ -MAINTENON. - -Since the spirit of curiosity possesses us here in this world, no less -than it did in your’s, ’tis an infinite trouble for those persons, -Madam, who were acquainted with every thing while they liv’d, not to -know all that passes after their death; and of this you’ll one day make -an experiment. I am not desirous to know, Madam, what you have done to -succeed the greatest beauties of the earth, in the affection of an old -libidinous monarch, nor what charms you make use of to secure the -possession of his heart, at an age you cannot please without a miracle. -My planet, dear Madam, has rendered me somewhat knowing in these -affairs, for _Henry_ II. was my gallant as long as he liv’d; and tho’ I -was little handsomer than you, I was not, I think, much younger. But I -must tell you, I cannot comprehend what procures you those loud -commendations and applauses which reach even to our ears, and are by -their noise most horribly offensive to us. The advantages of my birth -were great; and it is well known my charms so captivated _Francis_ I. -that they redeem’d my father from the gallows. I marry’d a very -considerable man, and the name of _Breze Reneschal_ of _Normandy_, -sounds somewhat better than that of _Scarron the queen’s ballad-maker_. -The house of _Poictiers_ too, from which I was descended, may surely -take place of those monarchs from whom that mercenary fellow _Boileau_ -derives your extraction; and lastly, if I had a few particular enemies, -I did nothing to make myself generally odious. Yet for all this, I was -neither canoniz’d nor prais’d, but openly laugh’d at, and by one of my -own profession, I mean the duchess of _Estampe_, who was mistress to the -father of my lover, and said she was born on my wedding-day. Blundering -impudent _Bayard_ was banish’d for speaking too freely of me; and tho’ -it was said, _That for me alone beauty had the privilege not to grow -old_, the compliment was so forc’d, that I was little the better for it. -Ragged _Marot_ was the only poet that ever pretended to couple rhimes in -my praise; and I will appeal to you if he did not deserve to go naked. - - _I dare not, (were’t to save my ransom)_ - _Affirm your ladyship is handsome;_ - _Nor, without telling monstrous lyes,_ - _Defend the lightning of your eyes;_ - _For, Madam, to declare the truth,_ - _You’ve neither face, nor shape, nor youth._ - - _Howe’er, all flattery apart,_ - _You’ve plaid your cards with wond’rous art._ - _When young, no lover saw your charms._ - _Or press’d you in his eager arms:_ - _But triumphs your old age attend,_ - _And you begin where others end._ - -What think you, Madam, of this, is it not rather satire than praise? -Shou’d the bard, that sings your virtues from the top of _Parnassus_ -down to the market-place, be as sincere, how wou’d you reward him? Tho’ -I know he has more prudence, yet I cannot believe he compares you to -_Helen_ for beauty, to _Hebe_ for youth, for chastity to _Lucretia_, for -courage to _Clelia_, and for wisdom to _Minerva_, as common report says; -because, were it true, it is not to be suppos’d you would have but a -poor deform’d poet in possession of such mighty treasures. For were -there not scepters and crowns then enticing? Were not then the eyes of -princes open? Did you chuse an author for your love, out of caprice or -despair? Did you take his wicker-chair for a throne? Or did the love of -philosophy draw you in? Had the latter wrought upon you, you would not -have been the first, I must confess; for the famous _Hirparchia_, -handsome, young, and rich, preferr’d poor crooked _Crates_ before the -wealthiest and most beautiful gentleman of _Greece_. I am unwilling to -judge uncharitably, but I cannot be perswaded that such an alliance -could be contracted without some pressing necessity. When I reflect on -the beginning, increase, and circumstances of your fortune, I am -astonish’d? for neither your hair, which was grey when you began to -grow in favour; nor the remembrance of [33] a vestal once adorned; nor -the idea of a [34] blooming beauty, whom cruel death suddenly snatch’d -away by the help of a little poison; nor the presence of a [35] rival, -by so much the more dangerous, because she had triumph’d over several -others, could prove any obstacles to your prosperity. The beautiful lady -that brought you out of your mean obscurity; and in whose service you -thought yourself happy, is now content if you let her enjoy the least -shew of her former greatness. In this Chaos I lose myself, Madam; but if -you will bring me out of my confusion, I faithfully promise to give you -an exact account of all that concerns me, when I shall have the pleasure -of embracing you. I exceedingly commend your prudent conduct; for those -young plants you cultivate in a [36] terrestial paradice, will one day -produce flowers to crown you; and the zeal you profess for a religion -which began to act furiously in my time, must stop the mouths of the -nicest bigots, and make the tribunal of confession favourable to you; -tho’ perhaps, dear Madam, it may make that of _Minos_ a little more -severe. - - - - -_Madam_ MAINTENON_’s Answer to_ DIANA _of_ Poictiers. - - -Curiosity, Madam, being the character of the great and busy, I will -answer you according to your merit and birth, tho’ you have not treated -me so, since you know what charms a lover when youth is gone; I will -dismiss that point to come to the history of my life, and the virtuous -actions I am prais’d for. I know you are of an antient family, that you -marry’d a man of power and riches; and that you were _Francis_ the -First’s bedfellow, before his son fell in love with you. As for me, I -was born in the [37] new world, under a favourable constellation; and -the offspring of a Jaylor’s daughter, with whom my father, tho’ of royal -blood, was oblig’d, either thro’ love, or rather necessity, to cohabit. -Fortune, which never yet forsook me, first deprived me of my beggarly -relations, without leaving me wherewithal to cover my nakedness, and -then brought me into _Europe_, where I found a great many lovers, and -few husbands. Poor deform’d _Scarron_ at last offer’d me his hand; I had -my reasons for accepting him, and his infirmities did not hinder me from -receiving that title which was convenient for one in my circumstances. -In short, I lost him without much concern; and liv’d so prudently during -my widowhood, that Madam _Montespan_ took me out of my cell, to bring me -into the intrigues of the court. Every one knows I drove my generous -patroness from the royal bed; and that since my being in favour, I have -been profusely liberal to all my idolaters. Our poets, who do not -resemble _Marot_, value not honour, provided they have good pensions, -which I generously bestow on them, and they repay me in panegyricks; by -which means I am handsome, young, chaste, virtuous, wise, and of as -noble blood as _Alexander_ the Great. Tho’ I was a Protestant, the -church is not so foolish as to enquire into my religion, thus out of a -principle of gratitude, and to fix her in my interest, I have fill’d the -heart of our monarch with the godly zeal of persecution. I have also -founded a stately [38] edifice, where I breed up a great many pretty -young virgins, who, no doubt on’t, will prove as modest and discreet as -their founder; and I play so well the part of a queen, that the world -thinks me so in reality. These few hints may give you some light into my -history, Madam, therefore to reward my sincerity, if you find _Minos_ -dispos’d to use me severely, prepare him, I beseech you, to be more -favourable. - - - - - HUGH SPENCER _the younger, Minion of_ EDWARD II. _to all the - Favourites and Ministers whom it may concern_. - - -Let all those that are ambitious of the title of favourite learn by the -history of my life, how dangerous a folly it is to monopolize their -prince’s smiles. A man climbs to the top of this slippery ascent thro’ a -thousand difficulties; and if he is not moderate in his prosperity, -(which few are) he often falls with a more precipitated shame into -disgrace. I acquir’d, or rather usurp’d, the favour of _Edward_ II. in -whose breast the proud _Gaveston_ had before me licentiously revell’d. -To effect this, my father lent me his helping hand; but without growing -wiser by the examples of others, the vanity of my ambition made me -follow that wandring star, call’d fortune. I no sooner had possess’d -myself of the king’s ear, but I crept into the secrets of his heart, and -infected it with the blackest venom of mine; acting the part of a -self-interested, not an honest minister. As I valued not the glory of -his reign, or ease of his people, provided I governed him, and render’d -myself master of his treasures; so did I never move him to relieve the -miserable, or reward the faithful and deserving, but endeavour’d to -blacken the merit of their greatest actions, and so settled the first -motions of his liberality, with reasons of sordid interest. If any -places of trust were to be fill’d, covering my treachery still with the -veil of zeal and love for my country, I recommended only such as were -devoted to my service; pretending ill management in every thing that -went not thro’ my hands; and that the nation was betray’d, whilst I, -like some of you now, was selling it, and was in reality the worst enemy -it had. After I had sacrific’d the great duke of _Lancaster_ to my -revenue, and a hundred persons of quality besides, I sow’d discord in -the royal family, The queen, with the prince of _Wales_ her son, and the -earl of _Kent_, the king’s brother, retir’d into _France_; during which -time I govern’d at my ease, wallow’d in luxury and riches, and had -interest enough to hinder _Charles_ the Fair from protecting his sister. -The Pope, who was of my religion, storm’d like a true father, son of the -church, and so frighted the king of _France_, that in spite of their -nearness of blood, he hunted the queen of _England_ out of his -dominions. But at last the king being reconciled, the queen returns; I -was taken prisoner, and by the laws of the kingdom, sentenc’d to be -drawn on a sledge, at sound of trumpet, thro’ the streets of _Hereford_. -The circumstances of my death were infamous; my head was expos’d at -_London_, my bowels, heart, and some others parts of body burn’d, my -carcass abandon’d to the crows, in four parts of the kingdom; the -justest reward a villain, who had almost destroy’d both king and country -cou’d expect. This is, gentlemen, favourites and ministers, a picture -you ought all to have in your closets, to keep you from resembling it. -When in favour, banish not justice, clemency and generosity, from the -thrones of your master; and to avoid a just hatred, and make men of -virtue your friends, study the publick interest. Turn over old histories -and you’ll find there is scarce one, or few of us, got peaceably to the -grave, but either starv’d or rotted, or immortaliz’d a gibbet. Not one -eye ever wept for our sufferings, pity itself rejoiced. Thus detested on -earth, and curs’d by heaven, our last refuge is to become the prey of -devils. Consider well, gentlemen, and arm yourselves against all those -vicious passions, which will certainly undo you, if you listen to them -as I did. Therefore in the slippery paths of a court, take prudence and -justice for your supports. - - - - -_The Answer of the Chief Ministers of the King of_ Iveter _to_ HUGH -SPENCER. - - -The picture you have drawn of your life and death, shews you were -notoriously wicked, and rewarded according to your deserts. But let me -tell you, Sir, that ’tis a great mistake to believe a minister cannot -manage or steer his prince, without abusing him and the publick. Because -you were the horror of your age, is it an inevitable destiny for other -favourites to be so too? I will not here make my own panegyrick, but -leave that care to posterity: However, I will boldly maintain, that to -suffer a master to divide his benevolence, when one can secure it all to -ones self, is folly and stupidity. A prudent man knows how to make a -right use of his master’s weakness; and if he finds him inclin’d now and -then to gratify eminent services, he will not seem much averse to it, -provided still he loses nothing by the bargain: But if his prince is of -a covetous temper, charity, which always begins at home, then bids him -shut up his _Exchequer_, and reserve to himself the sole privilege of -opening it at leisure. ’Tis likewise no ill step in our politicks to cry -down those actions, which might otherwise by their weight out-value -ours: Upon such occasions to testify the least zeal, fidelity and care, -will be thought meritorious. Tho’ the escutcheons we leave our children, -have some blots in them, what signifies that, provided we leave them -rich and noble titles, which will procure them honour, and all sorts of -pleasures in this world, and a saint’s place hereafter, in that -uncertain volume of the _Roman Almanack_. - - - - -JULIA _to the Princess of_ CONTI. - - -As you may wonder, madam, that I who lived so many ages ago, and at -present am so many thousand leagues from you, should esteem and love -you; might I wonder too, in my turn, if you should have a good opinion -of me, after so many historians have conspired to blacken my reputation. -But there are, dear sister, such circumstances in our fortunes, as ought -to make us love one another, and hold a friendly correspondence; since -you are like me, the daughter of a beautiful, treacherous prince, who -drags good fortune at his heels; and of a mother who renounced the world -before it did her the injury of renouncing her. I was once the ornament -of the court of _Augustus_, and you now shine like a star, in that of -_Lewis_ XIV. I was marry’d very young to _Marcellus_, the hopes of the -_Romans_; and almost in your infancy, you were given to the most amiable -man that ever was of the _Bourbons_: I lost the son of _Octavia_ some -months after our marriage, and your forehead was bound with the fatal -sable, before _Hymen_’s garlands were in the least withered; you are -handsome, I was not ugly; you occasion jealousy, and I suffer’d the -sharpest darts of destruction: I had lovers beyond number; and who is -able to reckon your’s? They have not perhaps been so favourably -received; and I believe the air, and want of opportunity, not our -inclinations, to be the cause, for you never yet despis’d those -pleasures I daily enjoy’d and sigh’d after; and tho’ by the death of -_Agrippa_, I came under the tyranny of _Tiberius_, I pursu’d my -inclinations to the last. Widows of your age generally enter the list -again: But, princess, the counsel I have to give you, is, to reserve to -yourself the liberty of your choice. There are so many _Tiberius_’s -where you are, that one may easily fall to your share, and after that -nothing but banishment will be wanting to finish the comparison. A very -malignant [39] planet at present commands your destiny; and ’tis in vain -to expect justice from that jealous, ill-natur’d fury. Now I have given -you advice, which, if I could return into the world, I would follow -myself, permit me to justify my actions. - -Historians tell you, I endeavoured to reign in every heart, whatever it -cost me, without any regard to the owner’s birth and condition: But do -you think that so very criminal? Does a little kindness deserve so -severe a censure? Must persons of quality be always oblig’d to have an -eye on their dignity? and did not he that made the prince, make the -coachman? But what I cannot with patience suffer, is the impudent lie -some have made concerning _Ovid_; that versifyer had a nicer fancy in -poetry than beauty; like your father, _My dear sister_, he imagin’d -wonderful charms in grey hairs; for _Marcellus_ was but newly dead when -he fell in love with _Livia_. ’Twas her he celebrated under the feigned -name of _Corinna_; and when he pleas’d, disciplin’d, she, like a child -not daring to resist. Thus people being ignorant of closer privacies, -invent malicious lies; for do you suppose I would have suffer’d such -insolent usage? And that if I had not been strong enough to have cuff’d -that rhiming puppy, I would not have found out some other way to have -been even with him? You very well see my reasons have some appearance of -truth, and I am confident, that when we meet we shall agree very well. -The emperor who had his private amours, never troubled those of his -wife; and _Merena_’s spouse, proud of possessing the affections of so -great a monarch, returned in soft embraces the favours bestowed on her -husband. I have insensibly made you an ingenuous consession; do you the -same, madam, for hell is so damnable tiresome, that I gape and stretch a -thousand times an hour. When your hand is in, pray send me word what -they are doing in your part of the world; but above all, give me a true -account of your amours and conquests; for those relations tickle us, -even when we have lost the power of acting. Therefore to invite you to -be very plain with me, as likewise to divert myself in my present -melancholy moments, I will give you some of my thoughts in metre, such -as it is. - - _A mighty monarch you begot,_ - _Who’s pious as the devil;_ - _Your mother too, by all is thought,_ - _To be extreamly civil._ - - _Descending from so bright a pair,_ - _You both their gifts inherit;_ - _All your great father’s virtue share,_ - _And all your mother’s merit._ - - _When I was young and gay like you,_ - _I lov’d my recreation_; - Mamma’s _dear steps I did pursue,_ - _And balk’d no inclination_. - - _And, madam, when your charms are gone,_ - _Your lovers will forsake you;_ - _They’ll cry your sporting days are done,_ - _And bid old_ Pluto _take you_. - - _Thus I have given all trading o’er._ - _And wisely left off sporting;_ - _Resolv’d to practise it no more,_ - _After my reign of courting._ - -As reproaching and talking freely is not here discouraged; so had I done -any lewd trick, your confessor wou’d have acquainted you with it; for he -keeps a strict correspondence with the chiefest ministers of our -monarch. You have been jealous where you ought not, and the saints of -_St. Germains_ and _Versailles_, when they come to discover the mystery -of your curiosity, will never forgive you. The mealy mouth’d Goddess was -always easy to be corrupted, and the old monster Envy prospers but too -much; therefore take care of one, and prevent the other, that the sins -of others may not be imputed to you. All that the world can say against -your virtue, shall never diminish my good opinion of it; and if you do -not believe the character I give of myself, consult [40] _Calprinede_, -who has drawn me to the life, and was a great master in that way, as -_Apelles_ in his. Farewel, fair princess, and remember that _Julia_ -languishes with desire to see you. - - - - -_The Princess of_ CONTI_’s Answer to_ JULIA. - - -I did not expect to be honoured with a letter from so famous a princess -as _Julia_: This makes my joy so much the greater. I do sincerely -declare, that I take all you say to me so reasonable, that I can do no -less than applaud it: And I further assure you, that I never search’d -for your character in those disobliging authors who magnify the lest -false step, and make an elephant of a mouse. I am satisfy’d to know you, -as I find you in _Calprinede_; and the complaisance he pretends you had -for _Ovid_, does not hinder me from having a great affection for your -amiable qualities; and believing as advantageously of your modesty as -you can desire. I am not so severe as to imagine a little indulgence can -be a greater crime; but think those who will, for a little natural -civility, ruin the reputation of courteous ladies, to be malicious -people, only envying those gallantries which are addressed to others. -But, madam, you have strangely surprized me with what you tell me of -_Livia_; for I always believed, that when old ambition was her only -blind side; but am astonished to hear she was amorous. This discovery -confirms the received opinion, that old age has a wanton inclination, as -well as youth, tho’ not so much ability; and since the wife of _Cæsar_ -lov’d the language of the muses, I am not astonished that our saints of -St. _Cyril_ have been charm’d with it. But, dear madam, is it certain -that _Ovid_ disciplin’d her like a child; I thought the _Roman_ ladies -had not wanted that exercise; and I believe my gallants will never be -obliged to come to that extremity with me. I need not use much -precaution against the folly of a second marriage; for tho’ I was -coupled to a very charming young man, yet I soon found my expectations -bilk’d, because the name of husband and wife, and thoughts of duty so -lessened the pleasures of our softest embraces, that it made them -odious. So that now I only love a spouse for a night, from whom I may be -divorced the next morning; and this perhaps, you’ll find more plainly -expressed in the following lines, as I doubt not, dearest sister, but -you have made the experiment. - - _Your tender girls, when first their hands,_ - _Are join’d in_ Hymen_’s magick bands._ - _Fondly believe they shall maintain_ - _A long, uninterrupted reign:_ - _But to their cost, too soon they prove,_ - _That marriage is the bane of love._ - _That phantom_, duty, _damps its fire._ - _And clips the wings of fierce desire._ - - _But lovers in a different strain_ - _Express, as well as ease their pain:_ - _Ever smiling, ever fair,_ - _To please us is their only care,_ - _And as their flame finds no decay,_ - _They only covet we should pay_ - _In the same coin, and that you know,_ - _Is always in our pow’r to do._ - -And will be always so, illustrious princess, to our great comfort and -satisfaction. You have heard, I suppose, what the writing of a few -letters has cost me; so that I have laid aside all commerce of that -nature at present, and am often oblig’d to trifle my thoughts. Had I not -fear’d _Mercury_’s being searched, I would have opened my heart a little -more to you; but if the times ever change, or madam _Maintenon_, the -governess of _Versailles_, becomes less inquisitive, you may certainly -expect to receive an epistle, or rather a volume from me. - -I put no confidence in the king my father, and he is so jealous of me, -that should he pack up his awls for the other world, I wou’d not trust -him. I pity you for being kept so close, and having so bad company. -That you may yawn and stretch less, and laugh a little more, entertain -yourself with _la Fontain_’s tales, or the school of _Venus_, both -excellent books in their kind, which I am confident will extreamly -divert you; not so much upon the account of their novelty, as by -recalling to your mind some past actions of your life. - -For my part, I highly esteem them both, and you’ll oblige by telling the -author so. - - - - -DIONYSIUS _the Younger, to the Flatterers of what Degree or Country -soever_. - - -Tho’ the torments I now suffer for my former tyrannies, are as great as -they are just; yet you cursed villains, deserve much greater, for being -the promoters of them. You, with your infernal praises, blind the eyes -of princes, and hurry them on headlong to their ruin: therefore I charge -you with all the ill actions of my reign. I was no sooner seated on my -throne, but you so swell’d me with pride, by applauding all my -perjuries, oppressions and cruelties, that I believ’d it lawful for our -race to be tyrants, from father to son, with impunity. Every one knows -my father was equally wicked and covetous, neither sparing, or fearing -men or Gods; and of this _Jupiter_ and _Æsculapius_ are examples. In a -fit of impiety, till then unpractised by the most desperate villains, he -stripp’d the first of his golden mantle, excusing it with this jest, -_That ’twas too hot for the summer, and too cold for the Winter_. To the -second he turn’d barber and cut off his golden beard, which with great -devotion had been presented to him, alledging, _It was improper for the -son, since his father_ Apollo _went without one_. When his conduct had -thus render’d him odious to the world he thought it necessary to make -himself secure; for which end, he ordered a large deep ditch to be dug -about his palace; but that was no fortification against fear, which -could creep in at every key-hole; and his distrust increased to that -degree, that he suspected his nearest relations. Not so much as a -_Maintenon_ came near him. At last his guards to oblige the world, cut -his throat, and sent his soul as a harbinger to the Devil, to provide -room for his body; and the people thinking me to be a much honester man, -without difficulty plac’d me on his throne. But I soon took care to -convince these credulous sots, that a worse was come in his room, far -exceeding him in cruelty, I endeavoured to secure my throne by actions -then unknown to the world. _First_, I caused my brothers to be put to -death, and when I had glutted myself with the blood of these victims, I -made no scruple to violate the laws, and trample upon all the just -rights and liberties of my people. By those and a thousand other -barbarities, tiring the patience of the _Syracusans_, they drove me into -_Italy_, where the _Locrians_ kindly received me: and I to requite them -for their civility, ravish’d their women, murder’d numbers of their -citizens, and pillag’d their country. At last, by a now contrived -treachery, I re-entered _Syracuse_, with design to revenge myself by new -desolations; but _Dion_ and _Timolion_, much honester men than either -myself or you, prevented me by putting me a second time to flight. ’Twas -my destiny, and I wonder historians do not add the epithet of coward, to -my just name of tyrant. I then retired to _Corinth_, where in a short -time my misery became so pressing, that I was forc’d to turn bum-brusher -in my own defence, a condition which best suited with a man that -delighted in tyranny and blood; and as I had been one of _Pluto_’s -disciples, I taught a sort of philosophy which I had learned, but never -practised. Thus was my throne turn’d into a desk; and my scepter into a -ferula. Heavens! what a shameful metamorphosis was this. But, gentlemen -sycophants, with a murrian to you, I may thank you for it. You, like the -_Cameleon_, can put on any colour, can turn vice into virtue, and virtue -into vice, to deceive your masters; and under the specious pretence of -religion can commit the greatest barbarities. But tho’ under the shelter -of that reverend name, you think all your iniquities undiscovered, so -you possess your prince with the abominable zeal of persecution; yet -heaven sees and detests your hypocrisy, and even men at long-run, -discover the cheat. Oh! ye unworthy enemies of virtue, whose only aim is -to raise your own fortunes upon the ruin of others. How useful are you -to the Devil? You matter it not, provided you compass your desired -ends; if we lay waste the universe, and afterwards become the hate and -scorn of all mankind: As for example, ’tis long of you that I have been -a pedant in _Greece_, and that [41] one of my rank, had he not been -taken to rest, would have been forced to cover his follies under a -stinking cowl, in the lousy convent of _la Trape_. You will not fail, I -know, to applaud all his actions, and say, if he lost all, ’twas only -for obliging his subjects to take the true road to heaven, and give the -title of resignation to meer necessity and compulsion. But is it a -sacrifice to renounce thro’ despair, the grandeur we cannot maintain any -longer? Is it not rather imitating the _animal in the fable_, that -despises the grapes which are out of his reach? But I waste my lungs in -vain, and talk to the deaf: however, if I have been humbled, believe -that you will not always be exalted. ’Tis my comfort that you will one -day be condemned to turn a wheel like _Ixion_, to roll stones like -_Sysiphus_, to be devoured like _Prometheus_, continually thirsty like -_Tantalus_, and to heighten your evils, that you will never lose the -remembrance of those villanies you committed. - - - - -_The Answer of the_ News-Mongers _to Young_ DIONYSIUS. - - -The flatterers have done you too much honour, Mr. _Pedant_, and shou’d -they believe you, and turn honest, (of which I think there is no great -danger) and perswade their masters to be just to their oaths and -treaties, wou’d not they govern in peace and unity? And wou’d not that -very thing cast the world into such a drowsy tranquility, that it wou’d -be melancholy living in it, and starve millions of all degrees and -professions, who now, lord it very handsomely? We, I’m sure, shou’d be -first sensible of it, by having no variety of news to stuff our _London -Gazettes_, _Mercuries_ and _Slips_ with; which wou’d make the -booksellers withdraw our stipends, and by consequence oblige us to leave -off tipping the generous juice of the grape, and content ourselves with -Geneva, or some more phlegmatick manufacture. Therefore keep your -harangues for your school-boys, and do not maliciously take our daily -bread from us, and seek to ruin those complaisant persons, that can -condescend to sooth the vanities and inclinations of their princes. But -to dismiss this point, and return to yourself; ’tis plain you have not a -jot of honour about you, since you pay no regard to your father’s -reputation. We easily perceive you have been a _pedagogue_ by your -tattling; which indiscretion makes you unworthy the title of great -_Pluto_’s disciple. But has your pedantick majesty no better rewards to -bestow on gentlemen of courtly breeding than wheels, vultures, -millstones, and an eternal thirst? Truly ’tis very liberal, and -school-master like in every respect; but you are desired to keep those -mighty blessings for yourself, who deserve them much better than any one -else; and if you were cullied by those about you, talk no more on’t, but -keep your weakness to yourself. - - - - -CHRISTIANA, _Queen of_ SWEDEN, _to the Ladies_. - - -That I, who never testify’d much esteem for the fair sex, should at this -time address myself to them, will without doubt be thought strange; but -if necessity breaks laws, it ought also to cancel aversion, and excuse -me for seeking protection amongst a sex I have so often despised, being -compelled to it by a thousand injuries done to my memory. Therefore I -now ask pardon of the ladies; and am perswaded I do them no little -honour, (since there has seldom been a more extraordinary woman than I -was) in owning myself one of the female kind. _First_, I may boast of -all the advantage of a glorious birth, being daughter of the _Great -Gustavus Adolphus_, who did not only fill the north, but all the -universe with admiration; and of _Mary Elianor_ of _Brandenburgh_, the -worthy wife of such a husband. If I was not as handsome as _Helen_, and -those other beauties, whom the poets have from age to age recorded in -the book of fame, yet all the world own’d me a woman of incomparable -parts. I was queen at five years of age, and even so early took upon me -that important trust, which but few men are capable to discharge, and -which fewer would covet, if they knew the troubles that attend it; yet I -supported the weight of all affairs with such a grace and prudence, that -my crown did not seem too heavy for me. As soon as reason had made me -sensible of my power, my only thoughts were how to make myself worthy of -it. To this end, I invited to my court those I thought the most capable -of improving it; which was no sooner known by the beggary _French_, but -_Stockholm_ swarm’d with masters of all sciences. Among the rest I had a -pack of hungry poets; but he that took the most pains, was not the best -rewarded, because he did not resemble _Boileau_, who can in half an hour -make a saint of a devil. In my green years, I seem’d only addicted to -grandeur and virtue; for I studied like a doctor, argued like a -philosopher, and gave lessons of morality to the most learned; so that -every body imagin’d I should eclipse the most famous _heroines_. But I -had not yet heard the voice of a certain deity, whose language I no -sooner understood, but it poison’d all my former good dispositions; for -whereas till then I had been charm’d with the conversation of the dead, -I began now to have passionate inclinations for the living. But not to -undeceive the world, which thought my conduct blameless, I was forc’d to -put a curb to my desires, or at least to pursue them with more -precaution, whether the trouble to find myself so inclin’d, or my -grandeur, which wou’d not allow of those liberties I sigh’d for, oblig’d -me to punish the flatterers of my passion, I know not; but I committed -many barbarities. As my desires were insatiable, so ’twas not in my -power to confine them; and this gave my subjects too many opportunities -to discover several indecencies in my management; and because I wou’d -not be tumbled headlong from my throne by them, I very prudently -condescended, and put my cousin _Charles Adolphus_ in my place. Then did -I, under pretence of visiting the beauties of _France_, take large doses -of those joys I durst no longer take at _Stockholm_. I was treated every -where as a queen, had palaces at my command, and I made at -_Fountainbleau_, which was before a bawdy-house, a slaughter-house also -before I left it. - - _Fate justly reached the prattling fool,_ - _For telling stories out of school._ - _Was’t not enough I stoop’d so low,_ - _On him m’affection to bestow?_ - _To clasp him in my circling arms,_ - _And feast him with love’s choicest charms;_ - _But must the babbling fool proclaim,_ - _His queen’s infirmity and shame?_ - - _Of all the sins on this side hell,_ - _The blackest sure’s to kiss and tell._ - _’Tis silence best becomes delight,_ - _And hides the revels of the night._ - _If then my spark has met his due,_ - _For bringing sacred mysteries to view._ - _E’en let him take it for his pains,_ - _And curse his want of gratitude and brains._ - -But I know not whether the monarch of _France_ had long ears like his -brother _Midas_, or some little familiar whisper’d it in his ear; but -what I thought could never be detected, was publickly discoursed at -court. Perceiving this, I resolved on a voyage to _Rome_, and the -rather, because I thought the _Romish_ religion most commodious for a -woman of inclinations, and that it would illustrate my history, to -abjure the opinion of _Luther_ at the feet of the pope; tho’ I had as -little believed and followed the doctrine of the _Reformed_, as I have -since the absurdities of the _Roman_ church. _Italy_ seem’d to me a -paradice, and I thought my past troubles fully recompensed, when I found -myself in that famous city, which has been the mistress of this world, -without subjects to controul me; saucy chattering _Frenchmen_ to revile -me, and amongst a mixture of strangers, which made all my actions pass -unregarded. ’Twas enough for me to be esteemed a saint, that I was -turn’d Papist in a place where debauchery is tolerated; and you’ll find -me, perhaps, one day canonized by the _Roman_ clergy. ’Tis true, I was -not so rigorous to them as others for the pope, cardinals, legates, -bishops, abbots, priests, and monks, composed my court, where -licentiousness reign’d most agreeably. Not that I had renounced the -company of young virgins; for I was intimate enough with some of them, -to have it said, I was of the humour of _Sappho_; and as I liv’d at -_Rome_, so I thought myself obliged to practise their manners. But the -chief reason of my writing, is to desire you to protect me against those -ignorant coxcombs, who endeavour to put me among the number of the -foolish virgins; for I began and finished my course, as I have told you, -and will now leave you, to judge if there can be any probability in such -a scandalous story. My good friend the pope, to whom I had been -wonderfully civil, solemnly swore, that whenever I left this world, I -mould not languish in Purgatory, tho’ he knew very well I should go to -another place. But as it was the promise of a tricking _Jesuit_, so I -did not much credit it, nor was much surpriz’d to see myself turn’d into -a sty, among a company of boars and old lascivious goats, a sort of -animals I had formerly been well acquainted with at my palace in _Rome_, -and who came then grunting and leaping to embrace me. I cannot in this -place hear of the poor gentleman whom I murthered; I asked one of my -he-companions concerning him, who knows no more of him than I do; -therefore I verily believe he is among the martyrs. - - - - -_The Answer of a young_ Vestal _to the_ Queen. - - -Good Heavens! Madam, how piously did your majesty begin your letter! and -what pleasure did I take to see such hopeful dispositions to virtue! But -what was that enchanting vice that put you out of the good road? Was it -the Devil? If so, why did you not make use of holy-water? For we, poor -creatures, oppose no other buckler against the darts of _Satan_, when he -conjures up the frailty of the flesh to disturb us: but I beg your -pardon, you were then a _Lutheran_, and holy-water has no efficacy, but -only for true _Catholicks_. My confessor has so often preached charity -to me, that I cannot but bewail the fate of the poor gentleman you lov’d -so dearly, and treated so barbarously. Oh, my dear St. _Francis_! What -sort of love was that! And how unfortunate are those precious souls that -have parts of pleasing you! One may very well perceive, by that piece -of barbarity, you neither believed Purgatory, or fear’d Hell; and I -would not have been guilty of such an action for all your excellent -qualities and grandeur. I hear you talk’d of sometimes, and in such a -manner, that it makes me often sigh, pant, and pull down my veil; and I -feel a terrible fit coming upon me by reading your confession. - - _Madam, I much rejoice to hear,_ - _You’ll take a stone up in your ear;_ - _For I’m a frail transgressor too,_ - _And I we the sport as well as you,_ - _But then I chuse to do the work._ - _Within the pale of holy kirk:_ - _For absolution cures the scars_ } - _Contracted in venereal wars,_ } - _And saves our sex a world of prayers._} - _Had you this ghostly counsel taken,_ - _You might till now have sav’d your bacon._ - _’Tis safe intriguing with a flamen_ } - _Who sanctifies their work with Amen,_ } - _Then who would trust ungodly laymen?_ } - _Do, Madam, as you please, but I_ } - _None but with priesthood will employ,_ } - _With them I’ll live, with them I’ll die._} - _Who like the_ Pelion _spear are sure,_ - _With the same ease they wound to cure_. - -But ’tis easy to judge your conscience is as large as the sleeve of a -[42] _Cordelier_, since you began in the spirit, and ended in the flesh. -Notwithstanding what I have merrily own’d in rhime, more to entertain -your majesty, than express my true sentiments, there are certain hours -when I could willingly follow your example; and if you would obtain from -the holy father a dispensation of my vows, which now grow burthensome to -me, I would break a lance in your quarrel: this I am sure of, that the -world will think it less strange to see a nun renounce her convent, than -a queen her crown. - - - - -FRANCIS RABLAIS, _to the_ Physicians _of_ Paris. - - -It is in vain for your flatterers to cry you up for able doctors, for -you will never arrive at my knowledge; and I am asham’d every hour to -hear such asses are admitted into the college. Do not believe ’tis a -sensible vanity that induces me to say this, but the perfect knowledge I -have of my own worth; and tho’ I was design’d for a more lazy -profession, yet that does not in the least diminish my merit. You know I -was born at _Chinon_, and that my parents, hoping I should one day make -a precious saint, put me, in my foolish infancy, into a convent of -_Cordeliers_: but that greasy habit, in a little time, seem’d to me as -heavy and uneasy as the armour of a giant; so that by intercession made -to Pope _Clement_ VII. I was permitted to change my grey frock for a -black; so I quitted the equipage of St. _Francis_ for that of St. -_Benedict_, and that I was as weary of in a short time as of the other. -As I had learnt a great deal of craft, and but little religion, during -my noviciate in those good schools, so I found a way to get loose from -that cloyster for ever, and took to the study of _Hippocrates_. Besides -that I had a subtle and clear genius; my comrades discover’d in me an -acute natural raillery, which made me acceptable to the best companions, -Cardinal _Bellay_, who made me his physician, took me to _Rome_ with him -in that quality, where the sanctity of the triple crown, the ador’d -slipper, and all-opening key, could not hinder me from jesting in the -presence of his holiness. ’Twas _Paul_ III. before called _Alexander -Fernese_, who then fill’d the apostolical chair, and was more remarkable -for his lewdness than piety. I had the good fortune to please him with -the inclination he found in me to lewdness; and he gave me a bull of -absolution for my apostacy, free from all fee and duties, which I think -was a gracious reward for a foreign, atheistical buffoon. After I had -compil’d a catalogue of his vices, to make use of as I should find an -opportunity, the cardinal, my patron, return’d to _Paris_, and I with -him, where he immediately gratify’d me with a canonship of St. _Maur_, -and the benefice of _Meudon_. Hiving all I could desire, I liv’d -luxuriously; and the love of satire pleasing me much more than the -service of God, after I had wrote several things without success, for -the learned, I composed the history of _Gargantua_ and _Pantagruel_; for -the ignorant, things which some call a cock and a bull, and others the -product of a lively imagination. I know most men understand them as -little as they do _Arabick_; and as it is not to our present purpose, so -do not I intend to explain that stuff to them, but will now, since ’tis -more _a propos_, give you some advice concerning the malady of your -blustering monarch. The residence I made at the court of _France_, in -the reign of _Francis_ I. makes me more bold in judging of the nature of -those distempers. You conceal the virulency of _Lewis_ XIVth’s disease, -because you dare not examine into the bottom of the cause, and are more -modest in proposing remedies, than he has been in contracting the -distemper. Yet every one talks according to his interest, and the -news-mongers always keep a blank to set down the manner of his death. If -he does not tremble, he must be thorow-pac’d in iniquity, for he has -several reckonings to make up with Heaven, which are not so easily -adjusted; and as he has often affronted the majesty of several popes, he -will scarce obtain a pass-port to go scot-free into the other world. We -are told here, by some of his good friends, he begins to putrify, and -has ulcers a yard in length, where vermin, very soldier like, intrench -themselves. There is no other remedy for this, according to old -_Æsculapius_, but to make him a new man, by a severe penitential -pilgrimage into some of the provinces of _Mercury_ and _Turpentine_. If -he still fears the danger of war, let him go in disguise; and if at this -age he cannot be without a she-companion, let him take his old friend -_Maintenon_ along with him, she is poison-proof, and may, to save -charges, serve him in three capacities, _viz._ as a bedfellow, nurse, -and guide; keep him also to a strict diet; scrape his bones, and purge -him thoroughly, and all may be found again but his conscience. You -cannot imagine how merrily we gentlemen of the faculty live at _Pluto_’s -court: I am secretary to the same _Paul_ III. who pardon’d me _gratis_ -the violation of my vows, my irreverence for the church, and my want of -respect for him; _Scaramouch_ is his gentleman-usher, _Harlequin_ his -page, and _Scarron_ his poet laureat. Don’t suppose I was such a -blockhead as to kiss his sweaty toe, when I visited him in the -_Vatican_; he had nothing from me, but such an hypocritical hug, as your -monks give each other at the ridiculous ceremony of high-mass. This old -goat still keeps his amorous inclinations; and I, who have so often made -others blush, am often asham’d to hear his ribaldry. He would certainly -make love to _Proserpine_, but our sultan would not be pleas’d with his -courtship; and besides, his seraglio is as well guarded as the grand -seignior’s, otherwise we might have a litter of fine puppies betwixt -them. Little hump-shoulder’d _Luxembourg_, lately mareschal of _France_, -is the captain of her guards, and so damnably jealous, that he will not -suffer any to come near her; at which _Pluto_ is very well pleas’d, and -does not mistrust him, thinking it impossible for any body to be in love -with such a lump of deformity. But to return to our friend _Paul_, he -scorns to copy after the Devil, who turn’d hermit when he was old; and I -am now making another collection of his impieties and amours, which will -be ready to come out with a _Gazette Nostradamus_ he has been composing -since the year 1600. That sly conjurer is so earnest upon the matter, -that he lifts not up his head, tho’ _Pluto_’s black-guard boys are -continually burning brimstone under his nose. However, I do not know but -this mountain may bring forth a mouse; for to speak freely, I put as -little faith in those prophets, who, like sots, lose their reason in the -abyss of futurity, as the honest whigs of _England_ do in the oaths and -treaties of your swaggering master. As for you, brother doctor, cut, -scarify, blister, and glyster, since ’tis your profession; but take this -along with you, that they who do the least mischief, pass with me for -the ablest men. But I would advise you not to suffer any longer those -barbarous names of assassins, poisoners, closestool-mongers, factors of -death, _&c._ the world gives you. I have had high words with _Moliere_ -on your account, and I expect that fine rhiming fellow, _Boileau_, will -give him a wipe over the nose in one of his satires. For tho’ I have -made bold to talk freely with you, yet I do not mean all the world -should take the same liberty. - - - - - _The Answer of Mr._ FAGON, _first Physician to_ LEWIS XIV. _to_ - FRANCIS RABLAIS. - - -You are a very pretty gentleman, friend _Rablais_, to boast of yourself -so much, and value the rest of your fraternity so little. Do not you -know that I am of the tribe of _Judah_, and perhaps related to some of -the kings of _Israel_? Had you heard me preach in a synagogue, you wou’d -soon be convinc’d whether I am an illiterate fellow or no. Is it such an -honour to be of your college? Or wou’d it be any advantage to be like -you? You have been, by your own confession, a most horrid rake-hell; and -I would not, for all the mammon of unrighteousness in my king’s coffer, -transgress one point of the law. You ought not to be astonished at my -greatness, for I concern myself with more than one trade, and no man was -ever in such favour, and grew so rich, by only applying warm injections -to the backside. If you enjoy’d a prebend, and other benefices, you -must, I know, have assisted cardinal _Bellay_ in his amours. For my -part, I boast of having been a broker, sollicitor, and, under the rose, -_Billet-deux_ carrier and door-keeper, because all employments at court -are honourable, especially in that great concern of _S----y_. Do not -you think you were the first that thought of the remedy you speak of; we -had several learned consultations about it, but know not which way to -mention it, for Madam _Scarron_, who is very tender of her reputation, -and reigns sovereignly at court, will say we accuse her of bringing the -_Neapolitan_ distemper to _Versailles_, and have us sent to the gallies, -or hang’d for our good advice. I have often reflected on the scandalous -bantering stuff of those they call wits, have said, and do say of us; -and wish with all my heart, the first brimstone they take for the itch, -and mercury for the pox, may poison ’em; but for us to stir in’t, would -bring ’em all about our ears; and we know the consequence of that from -a neighbouring [43] country, where they have mumbled a poor physician -[44], and one that can versify also, almost as severely as a troop of -hungry wolves would a fat ass. However, we thank you for your zeal; but -at the same time advise you not to make a quarrel for so small a -business; and I, in a particular manner, kiss your hand, and desire you -will give my service to _Nostradamus_. I cannot beat it out of my head, -but that he has put me into his [45] centuries; and that an ingenious -man might discover me there. I own ’tis looking for a needle in a bottle -of hay; but you know I sprung up like a mushroom, and that he foretels -nothing but prodigies. - - - - -_The Duchess of_ Fontagne _to the_ Cumean Sibyl. - - -I desir’d _Mercury_ to call, _en passant_, at your cave; and as he has -wings at his feet, and complaisance in heart, so he will, I don’t doubt, -go a little out of his way to oblige me, by delivering you this letter: -I have from my infancy had you in my mind, and heard my nurse, when I -lay squawling in shitten clouts in my cradle, tell frightful stories of -you. As soon as I began to prattle, my maids taught me to call all old -wrinkled women wither’d sibyls; and the idea of the den you were -confin’d in, fill’d me with fear. But since I have been inform’d of the -truth of your history, that fear is chang’d into veneration, and I now -look upon your cell as a sacred place. To assure you of my respect and -the confidence I repose in you, I will consult you about some future -events, and tell you one part of my griefs. I am nobly born, handsome -and young enough to inspire and receive the softest love. The _French_ -king, who had spoil’d the shape, and wore out the charms of several -mistresses, long before I appear’d at his court, had a mind to do the -same by me. Being naturally proud and wanton, and tempted by the fine -compliments of a great and vigorous prince, and title of duchess, (a -temptation none of us women can resist) I soon yielded to his desires; -which so mortify’d the haughty _Montespan_, that she, with a ragoo -_a-la-mode d’Espagne_, dispatch’d me out of the world, before I could -get a true taste of greatness, or the pleasures of a royal bed. Alas! -What a mighty difference there is between you and me; your years are -innumerable; you are still mentioned in history; your voice still -remains, and you enjoy the divine faculty of prediction; but I was -murther’d in my bloom, when ripe and juicy as the luscious grape; and -that ungrateful perjur’d man, who rifled my virgin treasures, has not so -much as thought or spoke of me since. He dotes on nothing but old age; -and could you appear in something more solid than air, I do not doubt -but he’d make his addresses to you: I believe his being born with teeth -presag’d he would always be a tyrant to his people, and in his latter -days the cully of such a tough piece of carrion as Mrs. _Maintenon_. -_Morbleu!_ Have I barbarously been sacrific’d; and must a miss of -threescore and fifteen live unpunish’d, and be treated better than I was -in the greatest heighth of that prince’s passion, and warmth of my -desires, when capable both of receiving and giving joy? It really -distracts me! And I conjure you, in the name of _Apollo_, who never -refus’d you any thing, to let me know by one of your oracles, if I shall -never return to _France_ again. You came hither, I know, with the brave -_Æneas_, (but stay’d no longer than you lik’d the place) and I have -heard some people say, that knight-errant diverted himself extremely -upon the road, and made a great deal of hot love to you; but I take that -to be a meer story, because _Virgil_, who would not have let slip so -pleasant a passage, has said nothing of it. However, could I return but -a short time to dislodge _Maintenon_, and take a frisk with my former -lover, if he be not too old for that business; or were I but your -shadow, provided I liv’d, I should be pretty well pleas’d; for ’tis a -melancholy thing to think that the fates should spin such a long thread -for an old lascivious ape [46], who never was to be compared with me; -and that there should remain no more of poor _Fontagne_, than an -unfortunate name, over which oblivion will in a little time triumph. At -the writing of this, in came a courier from _Versailles_, who brings us -word, that _Lewis the Great_ has undertook such a piece of work, that -the weight and consequence makes him sick of the world: that Mrs. -_Maintenon_ has wore out his teeth; that legions of vermin devour him, -and that we may suddenly expect him in these dominions; which, if true, -will be some satisfaction to me; and tho’ he be toothless, worm-eaten -and rotten: I will grant him the same liberty he often took with me on a -couch at the _Trianon_, to get him again under my empire, that I may at -leisure revenge myself for his forgetfulness. - - _Oh! wou’d it not provoke a maid,_ - _By softest vows and oaths betray’d,_ - _Her virgin treasures to resign,_ - _And give up honour’s dearest shrine?_ - _Then when her charms have been enjoy’d,_ - _To be next moment laid aside._ - - _But why do I lament in vain,_ - _And of my destiny complain?_ - _Had I been wife as those before me,_ - _I should have made the world adore me;_ - _Not to one lover’s arms confin’d,_ - _But search’d and try’d all human kind._ - -But I believe this foolish constancy was only owing to my want of -experience; and if I had liv’d a little longer, I should have had the -curiosity to try the variety of human performance, like the rest of my -neighbours. You have been, my dear _demi-goddess_, in love, and have -been belov’d; therefore, I beseech you, give me some healing advice, or -consolation, as my case requires. - - - - -_The_ Cumean Sybil_’s Answer to the Duchess of_ Fontagne. - - -Is it possible that so charming a beauty should think of such an old -decrepid creature as I am! I was desirous to talk with _Mercury_ about -you, but he flew away like a bird. It extremely troubles me, dear -child, that I am oblig’d, in answer to your letter, to tell you there is -no hopes of your returning to _Versailles_; for you must consider that -when I conducted _Æneas_, I was then living, and that ’tis impossible -for any under a _Hercules_ to fetch you from whence you are; and where -shall we find one now? The bravest _Boufflers_ in _France_ is but a -link-boy in comparison to him. Your lover, _fair lady_, is so fast -link’d to his old [47] _Duegna_’s tail, that he thinks no more of you -and your complaints are insignificant.[48] She that hurried you out of -the world in the flower of your youth, with a favourable dose of poison, -is now neglected, and grown so monstrous fat and lecherous, by living -lazily in a nunnery, that she’s not a fit companion for any creature -that has but two legs to support it. You know not what you do, when you -envy my destiny, for I’m sometimes so teiz’d and tir’d with answering -the _virtuosos_ and _beaux_, that it turns my very brain. I own, ’tis a -sad thing to dye at eighteen, in the heighth of one’s greatness and -pleasures, because nature always thinks she pays her tribute to death -before-hand. I would willingly divert you a little, but I know not which -way, unless this little history I send you, which a traveller gave me -not long since, and which has novelty to recommend itself, will do it. -Do not believe, good lady, the scandalous story some ignorant rhiming -puppy has made of _Æneas_ and me; he was not so brisk as that comes to; -and I can assure you, never put the question to me. Ask _Dido_, she can -tell you more of him than I can; and as modest as _Virgil_ describes -her, yet she was forc’d to take this _Trojan_ prince by the throat to -make him perform the duty of a gallant; by this you may judge of his -constitution: besides, had he been never so amorously inclin’d, yet not -knowing my inclinations, he might think his courtship would displease -me, and so disoblige _Apollo_, for whose assistance he then had -occasion. Therefore laugh at all those idle railleries of impertinent -people, and turn your eyes and thoughts on the following dialogue. - -[Illustration: _The Mitred Hog and Ladys_ - -_Vol: II. p. 101._ _E Kirkall Sculp._ -] - - - - -_The MITRED HOG: A Dialogue between Abbot_ FURETIERE _and_ SCARRON. - - -_Furetiere._ Oh! Have I found you at last, old friend? Tho’ I were -certain you were here, and desir’d earnestly to see you; yet being -gouty, and tir’d with walking, I began to have no more thoughts of -searching after you. How many troublesome journeys I have made, and -leagues have I travell’d, and all to kiss your hands, tho’ I am a -virtuoso, I cannot tell; for in truth, I am quite out of my element, and -confounded ever since I have lost sight of sun and moon. - -_Scarron._ Who are you, and please ye? What’s your name? For the dead -having neither beard nor bonnet, nor any thing else to distinguish them -by, I know not exactly what, or who you are; but by your language and -mien, suppose you some mungril of the _French_ academy. - -_Furet._ Well guess’d; I am call’d Monsieur _l’Abbé Furetiere_,[49] -alias _Porc de bon Dieu_, who has long, but in vain, been gaping and -scraping at _Versailles_ for a mitre, that I might wallow in peace and -plenty like a hog. But alas! what a left-handed planet was I born under? -A debauch with stummed wine, setting an old pox, which lay dormant in my -bones, into a ferment, soon carry’d me off, almost in the heighth of my -desires, and when I bad fairest for the bishoprick. - -_Scar._ I am sorry for your misfortune; but am at the same time heartily -glad to see you, Monsieur _l’Abbé_. You will not, perhaps, meet with all -these conveniencies here, you enjoy’d at _Paris_; but, in recompense, -you will meet with much honester dealing. For my part, I must own myself -infinitely happy; for now I am neither troubled with lawyers, -physicians, apothecaries, collectors of taxes, priests, nor wife, the -plague and torment of men’s days when on earth. But how have you had -your health since you have been in the country. - -_Furet._ Thanks to our master _Pluto_, I have not yet felt any cold. I -was so very tender and chill for six months in the year at _Paris_, that -tho’ I was loaded with ermins, and always had a dram of the best _Nantz_ -in my pocket, I could scarce keep my blood from freezing in my veins. - -_Scar._ That’s an affliction you will not meet with here, take my word -for’t; for ’tis something hotter than under the _torrid zone_, and the -nicest wits of your academy, need not fear spoiling their brains, by -catching cold here. It is not long since I met with the illustrious -_Balzac_, who does not complain now of the cold in his head, as he did -when he liv’d on the pleasant banks of the _Charante_. But, what news -have you? - -_Furet._ I don’t doubt, by your inquisitiveness, but you are very -desirous to hear some news of your wife. - -_Scar._ May pox and itch devour the nasty jade! I know but too much of -her by mareschal _d’Albert_ formerly, and lately, by my likeness -Monsieur _Luxemburg_; yes, I know she’s a duchess; that she’s one of the -privy-council; and she serves _Lewis_ the XIV. in the same capacity as -_Livia_ did _Augustus_. But why did not the prostitute make her poor -deform’d husband a duke? I should not have been the first duke and peer -of _France_, that had been a cuckold. - -_Furet._ By your discourse, Mr. _Scarron_, one would think you had lost -your senses and memory: But you cannot surely have forgot how, instead -of laurel, she adorn’d your learned brow with horns, before she was -taken notice of at court; Indeed how could a pretty, witty, buxom, young -woman, forbear making such an infirm, deform’d _Æsop_ as you a cuckold? - -_Scar._ I should not have much valued that, because I had brethren -enough to herd with, if the damn’d whore had but got my pension -augmented; but the confounded jade, instead of that, gave me the -cursed’st garrison to maintain, that ever poor husband was mortify’d -with: To appease which, I was forc’d to have recourse to _Unguentum -contra pediculos inguinales_, &c. But prithee let’s discourse of -something else, for the thoughts of the duchess of _Maintenon_, will -disturb my brain, and easily put me into a fever, which is dangerous in -this warm climate. - -_Furet._ I’ll tell you but three or four words more of this famous -duchess, and conclude. _First_, That she has kick’d her patroness, Madam -_Montespan_ out of the royal bed: And _Secondly_, That she is very great -with the pious jesuit, father _la Chaise_, the monarch’s confessor. - -_Scar._ Oh! oh! by my troth, I don’t wonder at the lascivious harlot, -for closing with him! as there is no feast like the misers, so there is -no gallantry like those monks. When those hypocrites undertake that -business, they do it all like heroes. But you have said all, by saying -he is a jesuit, since those gallants have been in reputation, they have -engrossed all good whoring to their society, especially in _France_, and -more particularly at _Paris_, where they have so well behav’d -themselves, that they have chang’d an antient authentick proverb, -_Jacobine en [50] chair, Cordelier en [51] chœur, Carme en [52] cusine, -& Augustine en [53] bordel_, for now they say, _Jesuit en bordel, &c._ -But so much for those gentlemen, pray what are you a doing now in the -_French_ academy? - -_Furet._ There are as many follies committed there, as in any society in -the universe; judge of the whole by this one example. That company was -never so highly honour’d as it is at present, by the particular care -that great monarch takes of it; for which he is repaid in flattering -panegyricks. Nevertheless, these insipid, florid, gentlemen, scold and -scratch like so many fish-women in an alehouse. The other day the great -_Charpentier_ fell into such a passion about a trifle, that he -reproach’d the learned _Taleman_, of being the son of a broken -apothecary at _Rochel_; to which _Taleman_ with as much heat reply’d, -_Charpentier_ was the son of poor hedge ale-draper at _Paris_. From this -_Billingsgate_ language they came to blows. _Charpentier_ threw -_Nicot_’s dictionary at his adversary’s head, and _Taleman_ threw -_Morery_’s at _Charpentier_’s. We all wish’d heartily we could have -recall’d you from the dead, to write the various accidents of this -battle, in your comical and satyric style. - -_Scar._ Ha, ha, ha, had I been there, they should have beat the academy -dictionary and _Morery_’s too in pieces about each other’s ears, before -I would have parted them. But I hope these two sputtering coxcombs did -each other justice; I declare, whoever hinder’d it, deserv’d to be -severely fined. Pray how did you behave yourself during this combat? - -_Furet._ I happen’d not to be there; for you must know, there has been -such a difference between those gentlemen and me, concerning a -dictionary I have publish’d, that it came at last to a contentious -law-suit; but what was laid on either side, only made the world laugh at -both, and is not half so diverting as the epigram you made upon an, old -lady that went to law with you: I think I still remember it.---- - - _Thou nauseous everlasting sow,_ - _With phiz of bear, and shape of cow,_ - _With eyes that in their sockets twinkle,_ - _And forehead plow’d with many a wrinkle._ - _With nose that runs like common-shore,_ - _And breath that murders at twelvescore:_ - _What! thou’rt resolv’d to give me war,_ - _And trounce me at the noisy bar,_ - _Though it reduces thee to eat,_ - _Thy smock for want of cleanlier meat:_ - _Agreed, old beldam! keep thy word,_ - _’Twill soon reduce thee to eat a t----d._ - -_Scar._ May that be the fate of _Taleman_, _Charpentier_, and the rest -of those reformers of the alphabet, and in a more especial manner of -that thieving flattering rogue [54] _Despaux_, who has made a faithless -poltron, a _Mars_, and a super-annuated lascivious adultress, a saint. -So much for that ---- But give me some little account now of your clergy, -I mean the great plump rogues, the hogs with mitres on their heads, and -crosiers on their shoulders, those janizaries of antichrist. - -_Furet._ I know your meaning---- Never was nickname given with more -justice to any society of men. In _Normandy_, and those parts they call -all the minor clergy, as the fat monks, canons, abbots, _&c._ who are -not mitred, _Jesus Christ_’s porkers; which distinction is not very -fantastical, if we allow the other expression. But no more of those -gentlemen, ’tis dangerous. - -_Scar._ Prithee, dear abbot, be not so mealy-mouth’d; when I was in the -world, the greatest pleasure I had, was in attacking those gentleman’s -vices, and exposing them to the hereticks, that still-born generation of -vipers, as they call them, and therefore let us be free now; ’tis the -only enjoyment we can have. Pray what says your _Monthly Mercury_ of -those gentleman, whom the earth is more oblig’d to for bodies, than -heaven for souls? - -_Furet._ Never fuller of who made such a man a cuckold, and who pox’d -such a woman, as now; neither were ever the women half so impudent; no -not in the reigns of _Caligula_ and _Nero_. Never was debauchery so much -in fashion; nor never were the whores so often cover’d with purple. - -_Scar._ Is there not in your herd, such a thing as a tame gentle -weather? or what _Virgil_ calls _Dux Gregis_? you understand me. - -_Furet._ A weather! oh, fy, fy! not such a creature among them, I can -assure you. The most christian king would not suffer such an impertinent -scandalous animal, so much as at shew his head in his seraglio. ’Tis as -easy to find there a pretty woman chaste, or hair in the palm of your -hand, as an emasculated beast among the mitred hogs: for the _Dux -Gregis_, _Virgil_ speaks of, we have one at the head of our prelates, -who has all the qualities requisite for so great an honour, tho’ he has -neither beard nor horns: and should I name him, you’d be of my opinion. - -_Scar._ Wou’d I recollect my memory, and their virtues, I cou’d guess -within two or three; but pray save me that labour. - -_Furet._ Do you not remember a famous song you made in praise of a sick -wanton goat. _Creque fait & defend l’archeveque de Roüen._ - -_Scar._ Oh, dear! oh, dear! the right reverend _Francis Harley_, -archbishop of _Paris_! my most renowned friend! a worthy chief! - -_Furet._ The very same, and ’tis a precious jewel, both for body and -soul. A hedgehog has not more bristles than this prelate has -mistresses, and there’s not a stallion in _France_ that leaps oftner. - -_Scar._ You rejoice my heart Mons. _Furetiere_. He was, I remember, -always at _Paris_, when archbishop of _Rouen_: no man fitter for that -employment. To be free, if _Paris_ be the hell of hackney horses, ’tis -the paradice of whore-masters and hackney-whores. I can guess at what he -does now, by what he did formerly. Several ladies also of our -neighbouring countries are witnesses of his prowess; but more especially -some of the fair _English_ ladies; the luscious morsels of a lustful -monarch. But on to the rest. - -_Furet._ I am willing to satisfy your curiosity, Mr. _Scarron_, but to -run thro’ the whole herd, would be too tedious at present, tho’ they all -deserve to be chronicled: so I will only, _en passant_, give you the -history of those you have heard preach, both at _Paris_ and the court, -with wonderful applause; and who, for their modesty and regular lives, -had the reputation of saints, whilst they were only fathers of oratory. - -_Scar._ Take your own method, Mons. _l’Abbé_; but let me tell you one -thing, by the way, this place is call’d the _wits corner_, but by some -late guests, because of the smoak and liquor, the _wits Coffee-House_. -Now you know the wits of all countries laugh at the clergy in their -poems and plays; and that the clergy, to be reveng’d of them, and keep -up their own reputation with the ignorant, call them atheists; therefore -you may freely give a true description of them. All here are their -enemies; and a priest would as soon venture his carcass in _Sweden_ as -in this place; he dreads a poet, as much as dogs do a sow-gelder. - -_Furet._ Still a merry man, Mr. _Scarron_. But to return to your mitred -hogs; do you remember father _le Bone_, and father _Mascron_. The first -is now bishop of _Perigueux_, and the other bishop of _Agen_. - -_Scar._ How! are these two famous preachers, those scourgers of pride -and immorality, got into the herd of the mitred hogs? by my troth, I -always took them for credulous humble weathers, believers of what they -preached; tho’ I know most priests seldom believe what they profess. - -_Furet._ Well, Mr. _Scarron_, tho’ you can see as far thro’ a mill-stone -as any man, yet I find you are not infallible. - -_Scar._ Faith, a man sees as far thro’ a mill-stone, as a priest’s -surplice, tho’ ’tis reckon’d the emblem of purity. But, Mons. _l’Abbé_, -what _Montaigne_ said formerly of the women, I now say of the priests: -_Ils envoyen leur conscience au bordel, & tiennent leur countenance en -regle_: they send their conscience to the stews, and keep their -countenance within rule. - -_Furet._ ’Tis even as true of one, as of the other, Mr. _Scarron_, and -my following discourse will verify it. What virtue there is in a mitre, -I know not, for I could never obtain one; I was thought too good a -christian in the bottom; but before I had bad adieu to _Paris_, your -innocent believing apostles were become too as rampant and fine coated -hogs as any of the herd. The reverend father _le Bone_, bishop of -_Perigueux_, has so bravely plaid the county boar, that there’s not a -pretty nun in his diocese but has been with pig by him; as I have been -credibly informed by persons of honour. - -_Scar._ Oh! the excellent apostle: I remember a story of him when he was -bishop of _Agde_, which will not be unpleasant to you, if you can bear -with a pun, and a poet’s making merry with several languages, a thing he -can no more avoid than flattery. This worthy prelate not meeting with -that plenty at _Agde_ his voluptuousness required, made his monarch this -compliment: Sir, _Je suis né gueux, j’ay vecu gueux, benais s’il plait a -votre majeste, je voux Perigueux_. - -_Furet._ Faith, a very comfortable reward for a very filthy pun; I have -said forty pleasanter things to the king, and never could get beyond -Mons. _l’Abbé_, which makes me believe there is a critical minute for a -wit, as well as love: an excellent _Roman_ poet was sensible of it, when -he said, - - _Hora libellorum decima est, Eupheme, meorum,_ - _Temporat ambrosias cum tua cura dapes,_ - _Est bonus æthereo laxatur nectare Cæsare._ - -There’s a _Latin_ quotation for you, to shew you I understand it; and -that I have been an author as well as you. - -_Scar._ Believe me, Mons. _l’Abbé_, you’ll fare much the better for it -here; and tho’ those gentlemen made us poor poets pass for scoundrels -and impious ridiculers of piety in the other world, yet we have much the -whip-hand of them in these quarters, therefore take comfort. Tell me -pray how the pious _Julius Mascaron_ behaves himself at _Agen_, where he -meets with greater plenty than he did at _Thute_. - -_Furet._ Oh! the acorns and chesnuts of _Agen_ have made him so plump -and wanton, ’twould rejoice your heart to see him. All the females of -the town caress him, and strive which shall yield him most delight; and -he out of zeal and gratitude, and to preserve peace and charity among -them, like a holy prelate, has given to each her hour of rendezvous, -which they keep as regularly as the clock strikes. - -_Scar._ Very well! there’s nothing so commendable as good method in -whoring. - -_Furet._ But his favourite is a pretty gentle _nun_, with whom he often -goes to _Beauregard_, there _tete a tete_, or rather _ne a ne_, under -the shady limes, do they both act that which will one day procure a -third. There are forty other better stories of these two prelates; for -they value not what common report says. They are above it: But if you -will listen to the exploits of the bishop of _Laon_, now cardinal -_d’Estrée_, I will shew you what a mitred hog is capable of. - -_Scar._ As I am acquainted with the strength of his genius, so I do not -doubt of the greatness of his performances. You have now named a man -that would make a parish bull jealous. - -_Furet._ The history I shall give you, will justify your opinion of him. -Know then that the cardinal _d’Estrée_ being passionately in love with -the marchioness _de Cœuvres_, who was supposed to have granted the duke -_de Seaux_ the liberty of rifling her placket, was resolv’d to put in -for his snack. To compass this, he acquainted his nephew, the marquis -_de Cœuvres_, with the scandalous familiarity that was between the duke -and his wife. Upon which their parents met at the mareschal -_d’Estrée_’s, where it was concluded to send the young adultress into a -convent; but the old mareschal, made wiser by long experience, was -against it. In good faith, said he, you are more nice than wise; had not -our mothers plaid the same wanton trick, not one of us had been here. I -know very well what I say; there’s not a handsome nose nor leg in the -company, but has been stole; and not a farthing matter from whom, -whether prince or coachman, it has mended our breed: therefore we have -more reason to praise those, who discreetly follow the examples of their -grandmothers and mothers, than banish ’em, and so render them fruitless. -Do not suppose, when I married my grandson _de Cœuvres_, to young -mademoiselle _de Lionne_, that I consider’d her riches, or that her -father was a minister of state; such thoughts are beneath a man of my -age and experience. My great hopes were, that she being young and -handsome, will still support the grandeur of our family, which as you -all very well know, has been made more considerable by the intrigues of -the women, than by the valour of the men. I’m sure I never discourag’d -what I now maintain; and why my grandson should be more squeamish than -I, or his forefathers have been, I take it to be unreasonable: -therefore, since the marchioness _de Cœuvres_ is only blam’d for having -tasted those pleasures which nature allows, and which are customary in -our family, I declare my self her protector. Yet I would not have this -be the talk of the court; I would not have it pass my threshold; because -the world might say of one of us, as of a fine curious piece of -clock-work, that a great many excellent workmen had a hand in it. - -_Scar._ In this generous and considerate speech, do I plainly discover -the inclinations of the famous _Gabriele d’Estrée_, _Harry_ the fourth’s -mistress. But I am in trouble for the poor marchioness; I know a convent -must be insupportable to a woman that has tasted the pleasures of a -licentious court. - -_Furet._ The cardinal was against publishing his niece’s wantonness, as -well as the mareschal, and took upon him the care of reprimanding her, -and bringing her into the path of virtue: to which the marquis _de -Cœuvres_ readily consented, not imagining he deliver’d the pretty lamb -to the ravenous wolf. This being agreed on, the lustful prelate went -immediately to his niece; I come, Madam, said he, from doing you a very -considerable piece of service: all our family has been in consultation -against you, and could think of no milder punishment for you than a -convent, with all its mortifications, _viz._ _Praying, fasting, -whipping, and abstaining from the masculine kind_, &c. I know, dear -niece, this was as unjust as severe; but, in short, it had been your -doom, had I not been your friend. Such a piece of service as this, -beautiful niece, deserves a suitable return, and I believe you too -generous to be ungrateful: but I shall think this, and all the other -services I can render you, highly recompenc’d, if you’ll but permit me -to see you often, and embrace you. - -_Scar._ A very pious speech! I hope that which is to follow will answer -this excellent beginning. Now do I imagine a place formally besieged; -the next news will be of the opening the trenches. - -_Furet._ We proceed very regularly, Mr. _Scarron_; the place makes a -noble defence, and does not surrender till a breach is made. To be thus -unjustly accused, said the marchioness, is a very great misfortune; and -tho’ I will not disown my obligation to you, yet you must permit me to -say, that your proceeding destroys that very obligation: if you will not -have any regard to my virtue, and the fidelity I owe to my husband, you -ought, nevertheless, to remember your character, and how nearly we are -related. But I know the meaning of this; you believe the scandalous and -malicious story that has been raised of me, and design to make your -advantage of it. What can be more injurious than this attempt! Tho’ you -thought me a whore, had you but thought me still virtuous enough to -abhor your beastly, incestuous proposition, I should have had some -reason to esteem you-- - -_Scar._ Poor prelate! Egad, I pity thee; thou hast receiv’d such a -bruise in this repulse, that I cannot think thou wilt have the courage -to return to the attack. - -_Furet._ Have patience; you are not acquainted with the craft and -courage of a _mitred hog_. The prelate, who by this resistance, was -become more amorous, resolv’d to watch so narrowly his niece’s conduct, -that he would oblige her to do that out of fear, which all his rhetorick -and protestations of love could not tempt her to. To be short, he -managed so well this important affair, that he surpris’d the duke _de -Seaux_ in bed, between Madam _de Lionne_ and the marchioness _de -Cœuvres_ her daughter: and to magnify charity, as well as other virtues -in this matter, he took Monsieur _de Lionne_ along with him. I will -leave you to imagine the confusion of these two ladies; the first to see -her husband, and the other the man she had so vigorously repuls’d. The -marchioness thinking wisely, her compliance would yet conceal her -intrigue; taking the cardinal by the hand, and gently squeezing it, -said, If you’ll promise to appease my father, and by your ghostly -authority, make my mother and him good friends again, and keep this -frolick from my husband, you shall, whenever you please, find me -grateful, and sensible of your affection. - -_Scar._ What said Monsieur _de Lionne_? The surprise of a poor cuckold, -who finds a handsome, brawny young fellow in bed with his wife and -daughter, surpasses my imagination. - -_Furet._ If, like _Actæon_, he had been immediately metamorphosed into a -stag, he could not have been more surprized. - -_Scar._ How did the prelate behave himself after this charitable brave -exploit? The breach is now made, there has been a parley; the -preliminaries are agreed on; nothing now is wanting, but taking -possession of the place. - -_Furet._ You move very soldier like, Mr. _Scarron_. The prelate being -resolv’d to perform all the articles of the treaty, like a man of -honour, first preach’d on charity, and then forgiveness of crimes; then -on human prudence, policy, the reputation of their family, and quoted -some of the old mareschal’s remarks; which altogether so prevail’d on -the poor cuckold, that he consented to put his horns in his pocket, and -forgive his daughter. Then did the prelate, under the pious pretence of -correcting his faulty niece, lead her with a seeming austere gravity -into his chamber, where he summon’d her to the performance of articles -on her part; which, on a couch, were reciprocally exchanged; she not -daring to refuse it, for fear he should acquaint her husband with her -intrigue with the duke _de Seaux_. - -_Scar._ Oh brave hog! worthy prelate! pious cardinal. What a fine way of -mortification is this! Well, for sincerity, humility, charity, sobriety, -_&c._ commend me to a prelate. - -_Furet._ The cardinal, tho’ he had obtained his desires, yet could not -but be sensible that fear, not love, made her consent; therefore -doubting she would return to her first amours, or that he should have -but little share of her, so contriv’d it, that her husband sent her to a -house he had in the cardinal’s diocese, and not far from his palace. -This had a very good effect; because the cardinal, for the love of her, -resided always in his diocese. Thus did the cardinal and his niece live -very lovingly for two or three years; but the intrigues of the court -calling the prelate out of the kingdom, ambition stepp’d into the place -of love, and put an end to an incestuous commerce, to which the -marchioness had first consented, purely in her own defence. - -_Scar._ I find there are hogs with cardinal caps, as well as mitres. But -I believe they are not so numerous; that dignity, perhaps, is a kind of -curb to their licentiousness. - -_Furet._ You mistake the matter, Mr. _Scarron_, inclination never -changes; the only reason is, there are more bishops than cardinals, and -most of them reside at _Rome_, at glorious _Rome_, which is but one -entire stew; _Sodom_ was not what _Rome_ is now. Have you forgot the -famous cardinal _Bonzi_? He is as absolute in _Montpelier_, as the grand -signior in his seraglio; he needs but beckon to the dame he has a mind -to enjoy. The brave cardinal _de Bouillon_, notwithstanding his court -intrigues is as well known in all the bawdy-houses of _Paris_, as a -young debauch’d musqetteer, or _garde de corps_. The cardinal _de -Furstenburg_ too was as wicked as his purse would allow him before I -left the town. - -_Scar._ I verily believe it, Monsieur _l’Abbé_: But pray give me leave -to reckon your dignities upon my fingers, that I may not forget them. -First, There is your porkers of _Jesus Christ_; then your _mitred hogs_; -and lastly, your _purple hogs_. ’Tis wondrous pretty! pray how must we -distinguish the Pope, who is chief of this herd? Must we call him the -swine-herd? Some of them, ’tis true, were swine-herds before they took -the order of priesthood, as _Sixtus Quintus_, who was swine-herd to the -village of _Montaste_: But there is another thing that puzzles me worse -than all this: you know _Lewis_ XIV. calls himself the eldest son of -St. _Peter_, _Lewis the Great_ then, for all his ambition is the son of -a swine-herd. Well, I know not how to settle this point; therefore pray -continue your history. - -_Furet._ I’ll make an end of my history, if you are not already glutted -with the infamy of the afore-mentioned prelates; with that of the -archbishop of _Rheims_. - -_Scar._ How! Monsieur _l’Abbé_, how! Is he a hog too? I have heard him -call’d by some of our new guests a horse. - -_Furet._ You are in the right of that: the mareschal _de la Feuillade_ -was his god-father, and one day honour’d him with the title of -coach-horse. - -_Scar._ A horse is a degree of honour above a hog---- Has _la Feuillade_ -the privilege of distributing titles at the court of _France_? Has he -more wit than in cardinal _Mazarine_’s days, who always greeted him in -these words, Monsieur _de la Feuillade, All your brains would lie in a -nutshell_. - -_Furet._ ’Tis true, there is no more substance in his brains, than in -whipt cream; and as that fills up the desart, and serves to cool and -refresh the stomach after a plentiful dinner; so does he serve to unbend -and divert the mind, after solid conversation and business. To prove -this, I will tell you how he made the king to laugh very heartily, -concerning the archbishop of _Rheims_. - -_Scar._ As a wise politick lady, when she has not the fool her husband -to divert her, will have her monkey; so must the great statesman have -his buffoon. He is the same to the politician as a clyster is to the man -that’s costive. But go on with your story. - -_Furet._ He being one day with the king, looking out at a window of -_Versailles_, that faces the great road to _Paris_, and observing the -passengers, the king at last discover’d a coach with more, as he -thought, than six horses; and turning to _la Feuillade_, praising the -equipage, ask’d him if it was not the archbishop of _Rheims_’s livery: -yes, Sir, said _la Feuillade_. I can discover but seven horses, reply’d -the king: Oh! Sir, said _la Feuillade_, the eighth is in the coach. But -I pretend to degrade this archbishop, and prove that he’s but a _mitred -hog_ as well as the rest of his brethren. - -_Scar._ Ah dear Monsieur _l’Abbé_, for the love of Monsieur _le -Tellier_, who has render’d his king and country such great service, take -not from him the honour _la Feuillade_ conferr’d on him, and with the -king’s approbation. - -_Furet._ Plead not so earnestly for him, but hear me with patience. I do -not say but the archbishop of _Rheims_ is a brute, a very animal, a -coach-horse, _per omnes casus_; but yet he pursues the affairs of love -with as much zeal, and as little conscience, as any prelate in _Europe_, -therefore must not be distinguish’d from his brethren. Besides, if you -take him from his lawful title of _mitred hog_, you will hinder his -preferment. - -_Scar._ Oh! by no means. I have read that _Caligula_ honour’d one of his -horses with the title of senator; why then may not the Pope, who is the -successor of that emperor, call into his senate your coach-horse? - -_Furet._ With all my heart. Nevertheless, I’ll call him if you please, -_mitred hog_, as I did the bishop of _Loan_ before he was cardinal -_d’Estrée_. Now to matter of fact. The duchess _d’Aumont_ having -surpris’d one of her chamber-maids in a very indecent posture with the -marquis _de Villequier_, her son-in-law, turn’d her out of her service. -The poor wench, distracted to find herself separated from her lover, -told him, out of pure revenge, that the archbishop of _Rheims_ lay with -the duchess every time the duke went to _Versailles_. How! my uncle! Ah! -I cannot believe it; thou say’st this out of malice. - -_Scar._ Oh fie! oh fie! The archbishop of _Rheims_ debauch the duchess -_d’Aumont_, his brother-in-law’s wife! Do not you plainly perceive this -jade’s malice? If the duchess had but suffer’d her intrigue with the -marquis, she would not have open’d her mouth. Oh, horrible! Oh, -horrible! - -_Furet._ As much as you seem to wonder now, and abhor the thoughts of -such doings, you were not formerly so nice, nor incredulous. - -_Scar._ Be not angry, good Monsieur _l’Abbé_; I do believe as bad of a -priest, as you can desire to have me; therefore pray continue. - -_Furet._ By what follows you’ll find that the spirit of revenge -discover’d a most luscious intrigue. Since you will not believe what I -say, reply’d the wench to her gallant, I will, the next time the duke -goes to _Versailles_, make your eyes convince you. The duchess, you must -know, had imprudently given her leave to stay three or four days in her -house. As it happen’d, the duke went that afternoon to court, who was no -sooner gone, and the marquis plac’d in a dark room leading to the -duchess’s bed-chamber, but by comes the archbishop, muffled up with a -dark-lanthorn in his hand. This convinced the young marquis, and was -enough to convince a more incredulous man than your worship. - -_Scar._ It was perhaps some phantome, or some amorous Devil, who to do -himself honour, had taken the archbishop’s goodly form and sanctify’d -mien. - -_Furet._ Still excusing the priests! You were not such an advocate of -theirs in the other world, witness your answer to your parish-priest, -some few hours before you pack’d up for this place. - -_Scar._ I have since drank a swinging draught of _Lethe_’s forgetful -stream; I remember nothing of it: You would, perhaps, scandalize me. - -_Furet._ It was thus, Sir, the grave hypocrite administring the last -idolatrous ceremonies, asked if you knew what you received; to which you -made this short answer: _The body of your God carried by an ass_. - -_Scar._ ’Tis true, ’tis true, Monsieur _l’Abbé_; pray who can endure to -be disturb’ by an impertinent coxcomb, when he’s going to take a long -voyage? But go on, I will not speak one word more in their behalf. - -_Furet._ The marquis, convinced by what he had seen, went the next -morning to _Versailles_, and told all the young nobility of his -acquaintance what had pass’d; which by being buzz’d about, in four and -twenty hours became the talk of all the court. - -_Scar._ Oh brave archbishop of _Rheims_! Was no body worthy of being -made a cuckold by you, but your brother in-law? - -_Furet._ Again mistaken, Mr. _Scarron_, for the charitable archbishop -has assisted his nephew too, as well as his brother-in-law, and intends -to go round the family. - -_Scar._ The Devil! This is the most insatiable hog I ever heard of! He -devours both the hen and her chickens. Pray excuse me, Monsieur -_l’Abbé_: I cannot but think you wrong him now. - -_Furet._ You may judge of that by the following relation. The archbishop -being passionately in love with Madam _d’Aumont_ his niece, and the -marquis _de Crequi_’s wife, was resolv’d, the better to insinuate -himself with her, to make her jealous of her husband, which he found no -difficult matter to do. This done, he went to visit her, and finding her -melancholy, said, Madam, I know no reason you have to be so much -concern’d at your husband’s infidelity, since it lies in your power to -be reveng’d. If he has a mistress, why don’t you get a gallant? I know -no injustice in it; and it is the only recompensing counsel I can give -you. - -_Scar._ Ah! _Marchioness_, have at you; I find the hog grows -rampant---- Go on, good Sir, this is like a brave metropolitan. - -_Furet._ The young marchioness did not listen to this proportion; but on -the contrary, was surpris’d to find her uncle, an archbishop, make a -motion, which had she been inclined to follow, he ought to have given -her more virtuous advice. Perceiving her aversion to his proposition, he -suspected she might suppose he only said it to try her inclinations, -therefore he was resolved to declare his mind in more intelligible -terms; which he did in so amorous a style, that the marchioness plainly -perceiv’d the archbishop intended to have a share in the revenge. But -the young lady, tho’ she would not have made any scruple of it, had it -not been for his character, was infinitely concerned at it. - -_Scar._ Notwithstanding all this, do I see the purple victorious, and -the poor victim prostrate. - -_Furet._ As the archbishop made her frequent presents, and she expected -great advantages at his death, so she did not think it prudence to -mortify him too much; this filled him with hopes, and made him more -amorous: therefore, to blind the husband, and have a better opportunity -of lying with his wife, he proposed taking them into his palace, and -defraying all their charges. - -_Scar._ Money is the sinew of love as well as war. The poor marquis, I -don’t doubt, was blinded with this fine proposal. More men are made -cuckolds by their own follies than by their wives. - -_Furet._ So it proved by our cuckold, who was so transported at the -bounteous offer of the archbishop, supposing it an uncle’s kindness, not -a lover’s, that he every where boasted of it, that is to say, he thought -himself oblig’d to his uncle for lying with his wife at that price. The -mareschal _de Crequi_, his father, had quite another opinion of that -matter, and was affronted at the excessive liberalities of the -archbishop, knowing that the most devout and zealous of their tribe were -adulterers, incestuous, and sodomites. He complain’d of it to the -marquis _Louvois_, who told him, covetousness was the reason of his -complaint. The mareschal not satisfied with this answer, went to the -king, who immediately commanded the archbishop to retire into his -diocese. The disconsolate archbishop, whilst all were preparing for his -journey, went to visit his niece, and with tears desired her ever to -remember, that it was for the love of her he was banish’d. - -_Scar._ Could the afflictions of the living affect me, I shou’d be -mightily concern’d for the grief this poor prelate, who was oblig’d to -leave so dear, so pretty a niece; a niece that afforded him so much -pleasure and delight. Have not you left behind you other _mitred hogs_, -whose lives and conversations are worthy your remembrance? Those you -have already been so kind to relate, have been a banquet to me; and I -heartily wish I may always meet with such entertainment. - -_Furet._ Your servant, Mr. _Scarron_, I am extremely pleased they have -diverted you; and that you may promise yourself such another -entertainment, nay, twenty such; be assur’d, that there is not a bishop, -archbishop, or cardinal, that is not as very a hog, as either the -archbishop of _Rheims_, or cardinal _d’Estrée_, except the bishop of -_Escar_, who lives in a barren soil, and can scarce afford himself a -bellyfull of chesnuts above once in fifteen days. Poverty is a kind of -leprosy, not a fair sleek female will come near him. The reason why I -entertain you with the histories of these two prelates, rather than of -the archbishop of _Paris_, the bishop of _Meaux_, the bishop of -_Beauvais_, the bishop of _Valence_, and all the other bishops, is, -because having heard the famous actions of those worthy metropolitans, -faithfully related some few days before my departure, those ideas are -the most present and lively. But in time, and with a little rubbing up -my memory, I may be able to give you the lives of all the _mitred hogs_. -Besides, as we have now settled three couriers weekly from this place to -_Versailles_, because of the importance of affairs now on foot, I expect -now and then a pacquet; so I don’t doubt of keeping my word, and often -diverting you with stories of the like nature, and of fresher date. - -_Scar._ ’Tis very obliging, Monsieur _l’Abbé_: But your last paragraph -has put an odd whim into my noddle. This place, as I told you before, is -now call’d the wits coffee-house; none but authors are sent hither. What -think you if we should join our heads together, and digest all your -stories and intelligence into form; if we should compile a book of them, -we could make it very diverting, having able men both for verse and -prose, whose very names would give it the reputation of a faithful -history, because the dead neither hoping nor fearing any thing from the -living, cannot be suspected of flattery and partiality, as they justly -were when in the world. - -_Furet._ I protest, a noble thought! The lives of the _Roman_ prelates -will make a most curious history. We have a famous history of the -_Roman_ emperors; and why should we not then have another of the _Roman_ -prelates, since they as justly deserve to be transmitted to posterity? - - - - - _Beau_ NORTON, _to his Brothers at_ HIPPOLLITO_’s in_ - Covent-Garden. _By Captain_ AYLOFF. - - -_Dearly beloved Brothers of the Orange-Butter-Box._ - -You will soon be satisfy’d what mighty changes we suffer by death; and -that there is no two things at more distance from one another, than to -be and not to be. You know how, _Roman_ like, I took pett, and dar’d to -die! for time had bejaded me a little, and to renounce the tyranny of -the fickle goddess, I was oblig’d to renounce your light. Since my -arrival at the grim _Tartarian_ territories, I have received the usual -compliments of the place; and tho’ the most accurate courtiers that -ever was bred at _Versailles_, and all the wits of the most gallant -courts in the universe, are here in whole shoals; yet to my great wonder -and amazement, not one of them said a genteel thing to me. But with a -strange familiar air, that favour’d much of our bear-garden friendship, -some a hundred or two, hall’d me by the ears, and puffing out thick -clouds of flaming sulphur, cry’d all with a hoarse and dismal voice, -well, _Doily_, this was kindly done of thee, to take _pas avance_ of -destiny, and shew the world, that no man need be miserable, but who is -afraid to die. - -I was (amongst friends) as much out of countenance at this saucy -proceeding, as when our old friends, _Shore_ and _la Rocha_, refus’d to -lend me five paultry guineas, after I had equipp’d them with more than -one thousand apiece. I wonder’d at the roughness of their _acueil_, and -they burst out a laughing at the impertinency of my astonishment. Well, -gentlemen, give me leave to tell you, that if I had but suspected a -quarter part of this inhuman and ungentleman-like reception, I would -have suspended the honours of my self-sacrifice, and have chosen rather -to wait the fatal period of life in a more contracted orb, than thus -suddenly have plung’d myself into such a disappointment. After having -allotted me my portion for my vanity and foppery, and I had been put -into possession of my shop, you cannot conceive how heavy it lay upon my -spirits; but suffer it I must; and if it had not been the odiousest and -most abominable, most nauseous, and most execrable function I could have -laboured under, they would not have been so merciful as to have enjoin’d -it me. ’Twas long before I could obtain leave to insinuate thus much to -you; for they are no ways here below inclined to grant any the minutest -thing imaginable, that may contribute to the benefit of mankind. _Jo. -Haines_ came to me, (and his breath had as much augmented its stench, as -light is different from darkness: In a word, there was as great -disproportion for the worse, as between us and you) and with a displayed -pair of chaps, told me, I must not have any correspondency with the -upper regions, for it might tend to the dispeopling the _Acherontic_ -territories; and that I was a bubble to think they had not as much of -self-interest here below, as any merchant, statesman, lawyer, or -nobleman in all the dominions above. But seeing my and your old -acquaintance, (gentlemen) I took heart a little, and held my nose; and -after some usual ceremonies, (to which he made but a scurvy return) I -told him, look you Mr _Haines_, you know, as well as I, that those -powder’d members of the vain fraternity are all of them incorrigible; -present smart and future fear affects them not; they are out of the -reach of good advice; reason was never their talent; for if they were -ever in election to have a thought, as it would be the first, so would -it be the fatalest too. Could any glass but shew them to themselves as -really they are, they would all despair like me, and die like me. A sly -young whelp of the second class of _Pluto_’s footmen, said, well, Mr. -_Haines_, there may be much in what he says, he came last from thence, -therefore let him make an end of his epistle, it may turn to better -account than we are aware of. I thank’d the gentleman for his civility, -and would have administred a half-crown; but you know (my worthy -brothers) that the last twelve shillings I had was laid out in three -glasses of _Ratifia_, and a bottle of _Essence_; with which, I first -comb’d out my wig, then clean’d my shoes, and then oil’d the locks of my -pistols, and so set out for this tedious and lugubrous journey: and that -you may see, that _Pluto_’s skip-kennels are not so insolent as yours -are, the fellow told me, with a malicious smile, that if the powder’d -gentry of the other world were so very despicable animals, as I -represented them, he would take a small tour with me, and then I might -have something material to communicate to them. - -We had not walk’d so far as from the chocolate-house to the _Rose_, but -in a narrow, obscure, obscene alley, there hung out a piece of a broken -chamber-pot, upon which was written in sulphurous characters, _Fleshly -relief for the sons of_ Adam. I had hardly made an end of reading this -merry motto, but the door open’d, and what should my eyes behold, but a -reverend lady, of illustrious charms, that gave us too visible proofs of -the depredations of time: I recollected her phiz, as engineers tell by -the very ruins, whether the fabric were _Doric_ or _Ionic_, &c. and who -should this be but the celebrated fair _Rosamond_; her present -occupation was to be runner to this bawdy coffee-house. Queen _Eleanor_, -her mortal enemy, sells sprats, and has - -[Illustration: Mark Antony _teaching yᵉ Dogs to Dance_ Oliver Cromwel -_turn’d Rat Catcher_ - -_Vol. II. p. 121._] - -her stall in _Pluto_’s stable-yard. In my peregrination, I met several -things unexpected, and therefore surprising; I shall not give you the -trouble of every particular dark passage we went thro’, but in general -terms relate the most memorable things that occurred during a very -considerable walk that we had together. Taking a solitary walk on the -gloomy banks of _Acheron_, I met a finical fellow, powder’d from top to -toe, his hands in his pocket, _a-la-mode de Paris_, humming a new -minuet; and who would it be, but _Gondamour_, that famous _Spaniard_. -_Helen_ of _Greece_ cry’d kitchin-stuff, and _Roxano_ had a little -basket of tripe and trotters; _Agamemnon_ sold bak’d ox-cheek, hot, hot; -_Hannibal_ sells _Spanish_-nuts, come crack it away; the so famous -_Hector_ of _Troy_ is a head-dresser; the _Decii_ keep a coblers-stall, -in the corner of the _Forum_, and the _Horatii_ a chandler’s-shop; -_Sardanapalus_ cries lilly-white-vinegar, and _Heliogabalus_ bakes -fritters, in the _via appia_ of this metropolis; _Lucius Æmilius Paulus_ -is a bayliff’s follower, and the famous queen _Thomyris_ proportions out -the offals for _Cerberus_; _Tarquin_ sweeps his den, and _Romulus_ is a -turnspit in _Pluto_’s kitchen; _Artaxerxes_ is an under scullion, and -_Pompey_ the magnificent, a rag-man; _Mark Anthony_, that disputed his -mistress at the price of the whole universe, goes now about with -dancing-dogs, a monkey and a rope; _Cleopatra_, that could swallow a -province at one draught, when it was to drink her lover’s health, -submits now to the humble employment of feeding _Proserpine_’s pigs: -that luxurious _Roman_, who was once so dissolv’d in ease, as that a -very rose-leaf doubled under him, prevented his rest, is now labouring -at the anvil with a half hundred hammer; _Oliver Cromwell_ is a -rat-catcher, and my lord _Bellew_ a chimney-sweeper. - -There was besides these, a list of people nearer hand; but you may -easily guess upon what score they are left out of the list. We needed -not have gone so far back in the records of persons and things, to have -met instances of barbarity, luxury, avarice, lust of dominion, as well -as of sensuality. Malversations of government in sovereigns and -subjects; publick justice avoided, private feuds fomented, every thing -sacrificed to a _Colbert_, _Maintenon_, or a _Loüis_. - -There is somebody hollows most damnably on the other side of _Styx_, and -lest I lose this opportunity, I shall only relate some memorable things -to you: Therefore pray pardon me that I cannot dilate upon every -particular. In short then, _Alexander_ the Great is bully to a -guinea-dropper; and cardinal _Mazarine_ keeps a nine-holes; _Mary_ of -_Medicis_ foots stockings, and _Katherine_, queen of _Sweedland_ cries -two bunches a penny card-matches, two bunches a penny; _Henry_ the -fourth of _France_ carries a rary-show; and _Mahomet_, muscles; _Seneca_ -keeps a fencing-school, and _Julius Cæsar_ a two-penny ordinary; -_Xenophon_, that great philosopher, cries cucumbers to pickle; and -_Cato_ is the perfectest Sir _Courtly_ of the whole _Plutonian_ kingdom; -_Richelieu_ cries topping bunno; and the late pope, any thing to day; -_Lewis_ the thirteenth is a corn-cutter; _Gustavus Adolphus_ cries -sparrowgrass, with a thousand more particulars of this nature. You must -allow the scenes to be mightily alter’d from their former stations; but -alas! Sir, this change we suffer, and as pleasure is the reward of -virtue, so disgrace and infamy is of cruelty, pride, and hypocrisy. What -can be more surprising than to see the renowned _Penthefilea_, queen of -the _Amazons_, crying new almanacks, and _Darius_ gingerbread, _van -Trump_ cries ballads, and admiral _de Ruyter_ long and strong -thread-laces. - -This disproportion is their punishment; for it must be anxious to the -last degree, to fall so low even beyond a possibility of rising again. -That is the advantage of moving in an humble sphere; they are not -capable of those enormities that the great ones can hardly avoid; for -temptation will generally have the better of mankind. - -_I rest_, - -_Yours in haste._ - -[Illustration] - - - - -PERKIN WARBECK _to the pretended Prince of_ Wales. _By Capt._ AYLOFF. - - -_Dear Cousin Sham_, - -We had a fierce debate here on the 13th _passato_, between my lord -_Fitz-Walter_, Sir _Simon Mountford_, Sir _William Stanley_, and myself; -whether by a parity of reason, _England_ might not once more have the -same card trumpt up upon them? In a word, we were consulting your -affairs, and they were most of ’em of opinion, that there could not be -any good success expected from your personal endowments, and princely -qualifications. For you must give me leave to tell you, _Cuz_, that I -was a smart child, and a smock-fac’d youth; I had not the good luck to -kill a wild boar at your years, but I could sit the great horse before I -could go alone, I had all the advantages of friends that you have, and -the interest of my good aunt the duchess or _Burgundy_, let me tell you, -was as capable of seconding me, as the house of _Modena_ is you: Nay, I -had the _Scotch_ on my side, assistance from _Ireland_, and not without -a party, you see, even in _England_ too. But the _English_ mob is the -most giddy, wretched, senseless mob of all the mobs in the world. How -they crowded into me at _Whitsand-Bay_, and in their first fury fought -well enough before _Exeter_: But when they heard of an army coming -against ’em, the scoundrels ran away and left me; all my blooming hopes -and fancied kingdoms dwindled away in a sanctuary, that I exchanged for -a prison, and brought my _Habeas Corpus_, and so turn’d myself over to -_Tyburn_, and am now in the rules of _Acheron_. Our kinsman _Lambert -Simnel_ and I, drank your health t’other morning in a curious cup of -_Styx_, and the arch sawcy rogue, said, how he should laugh to see his -brother of _Wales_ succeed him in this great employment at court; -continually turning a spit would harden and inure you, and so prepare -you for these smoaky and warmer climates: not but that there is matter -of speculation in it too. The turning a spit is an emblem of the -vicissitude of human affairs. But before I take my leave, good cousin, -I must offer a little of my advice to you, if it be possible any ways to -meliorate your destiny; and that is, that you would make a campaign or -two in _Italy_: Marshal _Villeroy_ will shew you what it is to be well -beaten; and till then you’ll never be a great general. But _Charon_ is -just landing a multitude of _French_ from those parts; I must go see -what news, and inform myself further of your welfare and prosperity. - -_Adieu._ - - - - -_Mr._ DRYDEN, _to the Lord_---- _By Capt._ AYLOFF. - - -_My lord_, - -On the 25th _passato_, there happen’d a very considerable dispute in the -_Delphick_ vale; the _literati_ had hard words, and it was fear’d by -_Pluto_ himself, that the angry shades would come to somewhat worse. It -may be you in those grosser regions, do not believe that we here below -lose nothing of ourselves by death, but the terrene part: nay, the very -soul itself retains some of those unhappy impressions it receiv’d from -flesh and blood. Here _Cæsar_ bites his thumbs when _Alexander_ walks -by; frowns upon _Brutus_, and blushes when he talks of king _William_: -The great _Gustavus Adolphus_ only wishes himself upon earth again, to -serve a captain under him: _Turenne_ wants to be in _Italy_, and -_Wallesteen_ assures him that prince _Eugene_ of _Savoy_ would have had -the same glorious success against him, as _Catinat_ and _Villeroy_. -_Hannibal_ own’d that his march over, or rather thro’ the _Alpes_, was -not so honourable an action as the prince’s; and tho’ arts and -experience may make a general, yet nature can only inform an _Eugene_. -Surly _Charon_ had been so plagu’d with the _French_ from those parts, -that he has been forc’d to leave whole shoals of them behind. Once they -crowded in so fast, as they almost overset the boat, and still as they -press’d forward, cry’d _Vauban, Vauban_: But the old gentleman, -unwilling to hazzard himself, push’d a multitude of them back with his -sculls, and so put off---- However, this is not the business I design’d -to mention; something more particular, and of more weighty consequence -is the occasion of this letter. The real wits refus’d to take notice of -prince _Arthur_, and king _Arthur_, who were walking hand in hand; some -shallow-pated versificators would resent the indignity put upon ’em. -This was very disgusting to the _literati_, and it is inconceivable what -a horrid stench they made with uttering those verses. The more robust -spirits were almost choak’d; you may then judge what condition the -delicate and nice stomachs of the men of wit were in; but while every -one was wishing for their cloaths of humanity again to be less sensible -of this execrable smell, a worthy _literati_ came in from _London_, who -being informed of the occasion of that terrible inconveniency, repeated -a few commendatory verses, and immediately the air grew tolerable, and -the brimstone burnt serene. _Job_ himself did confess, that had he been -in the flesh again, he was terribly afraid he should have murder’d the -doctor: When a merry spirit standing at his elbow, said, it was no such -wonderful thing to have a sirreverence of a man be mine arse of a poet. -But _Charon_ waits, I must conclude; and as conveniency serves, shall -inform you of what passes in those gloomy regions. - - - - - _A Letter from Mr._ ABRAHAM COWLEY, _to the_ Covent-Garden - _Society. By Capt._ AYLOFF. - - -The shatter’d lawrels of the _Acherontic_-walks, owe not so much of -their misfortune to the shallowness of _Aganippe_, as to the ungenerous -procedure of the sons of _Helicon_. Either the hill of _Parnassus_ is -fortify’d, and what with antient and modern wit, even you, gentlemen of -real parts, have none of you that applause, which in a thousand -occasions you have so justly merited. These melancholy reflections, -gentlemen, add a new thickness to the gloomy sulphur; and we cannot -enjoy a perfect quiet here, seeing there is so great and so dangerous a -misunderstanding between you on the other side of _Phlegethon_. Why -should there be so many pointed satires against one another? Why mould -you shew the very blockheads themselves where you men of sense are not -quite such as you would pass upon the world for? Your invidious -criticisms only shew others where you are vulnerable, and give an -argument under your own hand against your own selves. There is a charity -in concealing faults; but to make them more obvious, has a double -ill-nature in it. Can’t _Arthur_ be a worthless poem, but a squadron of -poets must tell all the world so? Is there honour in rummaging a -dunghil, or telling the neighbours where there is one? The bee gathers -honey from every flower, ’tis the beetles that delight in horse-dung. Is -it not much more preferable to make something ones self useful to -mankind, than only to shew wherein another is a coxcomb? Partisans in -wit never do well; they only lay the country waste; they gratify their -own private spleen, it may be, but they do not help the publick. Unite -your forces, gentlemen, against ignorance, that growing and powerful -enemy to you and us. Erect triumphal arches, to one another, and do not -enviously pull down what others are endeavouring to set up. Your mutual -quarrels have shaken the very foundation of wit and good humour. ’Tis -the faction a man is of, determines what he is, not his learning and -parts; we cannot hear, gentlemen, of those intestine dissensions, -without a great concern and displeasure; and must take the liberty to -tell you, we apprehend the muses may shortly be reduced to the necessity -of shutting up the _Delphic_ library, and write upon the doors, _Ruit -ipsa suis Roma viribus_. - - - - -CHARON _to the most Illustrious and High-born_ JACK CATCH, _Esq; by -Capt._ AYLOFF. - - -_Most worthy Kinsman and Benefactor_, - -I cannot but with the last degree of sorrow and anguish, inform you of -our present wretched condition; we have even tired our palms, and our -ribs at slappaty-pouch; and if it had not been for some gentlemen that -came from the coasts of _Italy_, I had almost forgot to handle my -sculls. There came a sneaking ghost here, some a day or two or three -ago, and he surpriz’d me with an account, (I may call it indeed a -terrible one) that you have had a maiden-sessions in your metropolis. -Was it then possible that _Newgate_ should be without a rogue, or our -patron, the most worshipful Sir _Senseless Lovel_ without any execution -in his mouth? You talk of having hang’d _Tyburn_ in mourning: Why cousin -_Catch_, upon my sincerity, and for fear you should question my -veracity, by the thickest mud in _Acheron_, I swear, it is almost high -time that my boat was in mourning. What, he upon the bench and no man -hang’d! Well, as assuredly as the blood of the horses will rise up in -judgment against our friend _Whitney_: this maiden-sessions shall rise -up in judgment against him. Such shoals as I have had from time to time, -meer sacrifices to his avarice or his malice, that unless his conscience -begins to fly in his face, I cannot comprehend what should occasion this -calm at the _Old-Baily_: For give me leave, dear cousin, to tell you, -that formerly he never sav’d any man for his money, but hang’d another -in his room; trading was then pretty good, cousin, and there was a penny -to be got; but indeed, on your side it is very dull: nay, in _Flanders_ -too, that fertile soil of blood and wounds, there has not one leg nor -one arm been brought us all this summer. Prithee be you _Charon_, and -let me be recorder, I’ll warrant you somewhat more to do. - - - - -_From Sir_ BARTHOLOMEW---- _to the Worshipful Serjeant_ S----. _By the -same Hand._ - - -The friendship that was between us formerly, equally obliges me to give -you a relation of my travels, and assures me of its welcome. Since my -peregrination from your factious regions, I have palled over various and -stupendious lakes; the roads are somewhat dark indeed, but the continued -exhalations of those amazing streams, make the travellers able to pass, -without running foul of one another. But ’tis equally remarkable, -considering the length and darkness of the passage, that no person was -ever cast away on this river _Styx_, as I am credibly inform’d by the -ferryman, who has ply’d here time out of mind. The dogs are pretty rife -in this country, and full as insufferable as ever they were among you: I -unfortunately forgot my lozenge-box, and have much impair’d my lungs; -but they assure me, that these defluxions of rheums never kill. ’Tis -prodigious, I protest, brother, to see how soon we learn the language, -or rather jargon of the place! how fast they come in from all parts of -the habitable world! And yet there is but one boat neither, and that no -bigger than above-bridge-wherry. At my coming ashoar, I was very -familiarly entertain’d, and directed to an apartment in _Cocytus_: But -there was not one corner in all my passage, but I met some or other of -the wrangling fraternity of _Westminster_. I immediately suggested to -myself, that there might be (peradventure) a call of serjeants by his -majesty _Pluto_, who is sovereign of these gloomy regions; and who -besides his general residence here, has a most magnificent palace about -twenty miles off, at _Erebus_, on the side of the river _Phlegethon_. He -is one of a somewhat stern aspect, not easy of access; haughty in his -deportment, and barbarous to the last degree in his nature. There is no -sort of people he sets so much by, as those of our profession, tho’ I -have not heard of any lawyer that had the honour to be in his cellar as -yet. Our old friend and fellow-toper judge _D_---- has very good -business here, upon my word, as likely to be preferr’d, as vacancies -happen; for ’tis always term-time in this kingdom throughout; and -besides, when he had his _quietus_ sent him by the hands of Sir -_Thin-chops Mors_, you and I remember very well, that he had not the -best reputation for a man of parts. In the crowd of our pains-taking -brethren in the litigious school, I remark’d an innumerable quantity -that I was not quite an utter stranger to their faces, more -particularly, Mr. _Fil_----, who, you know, did not want for sense, wit, -law, and good manners; and yet had so profound a genious, that he could -dispatch more business, and more wine in one night’s time, than _Bob. -Weeden_ would have wish’d for a patrimony: He very humanly accosted me, -and after a million of mutual civilities, he forced me to accept of my -mornings draught with him. At night you know, I never refuse my bottle; -but for morning tippling, it was always my aversion, my abomination, my -hatred, my _noli me tangere_: Besides, the dismal prospect of the place, -gave me many shrewd suspicions, that those taverns were not furnish’d -with the best accommodations, neither for man’s meat, or horse meat -either; not that I had the vanity to take my coach with me neither, but -’tis to use an old proverb, that as yet I have not blotted out of my -memory. I had hardly disengag’d myself from his civilities, but Mr. -_Nicholas Hard--_ mighty gravely admonish’d me of his former -familiarity, and with an air that was no ways contumelious, desir’d to -know how _F_---- preach’d, and _Burg_---- pray’d; whether the grave Dr. -_W_---- continued his pious endeavours to convert the martyr’d men of -his parish from the crying and heinous sin of _ebriety_; and yet at the -same instant almost, to contrive plausible ways and means of perverting -the modest and chaste propensities of their respective wives; and while -they would not quietly let their husbands be (by accident of good -company, or good wine) beasts, for but a few transitory nocturnal hours, -could yet drive to make them so beyond a possibility of redress; for -amongst friend, (brother) what collateral security can an honest, -prudent, wary, wise, good, upright, understanding, cautious, indulgent, -loving husband take, when that same godly man in black twirls his -primitive band-strings, and with his other hand has your dear spouse, -your help-mate, the wife of your bosom, the partner of your bed, by the -conscience, and somewhat else that begins with the same letter? ’Twas -not want of leisure, (for alas! and alack) we have supernumerary hours -here; but pretended curiosity, (the last thing that dies with us but -hypocrisy) made me cut short the harangue, that this precise attorney -seem’d by his demureness to expect from me: So, in short, I told him, -that his fellow-companions at six o’ clock prayers had not forgot him; -and by what I could understand from those that were last with me, the -pew-keeper lamented his loss extreamly: nay, was inconsolable, for now -he was forced to use a pailful of water extraordinary once a week more -in the church than formerly; because he had gotten to such a perfection -in hypocrisy, that what his knees did not rub clean, his eyes always -wash’d clean: but for his father’s comfort, since he was got clear of -his _super-tartarian_ concern, money was fallen, and his dearest darling -sin of all, extortion, was not a little under the hatches: but that he -might not be quite cast down, there was some seeds of it left still, -that would always keep old _Charon_ well employ’d. I had hardly bless’d -myself for having got rid of him, but a merry fellow (not to say -impertinent and sawcy to one of my capacity, volubility, and eloquence; -character, conduct, and reputation) pull’d me by the coif; but as in -strange places ’tis prudence to pass by small affronts and indignities, -because want of acquaintance is worse than want of knowledge; and the -law, you know brother, is not so expensive, as it is captious in the -main; not but that our industry does help it mightily to the one, if we -find it to be the other. Now who should this _Caitiff_ be, but _Harry -C----ff_ the attorney; and all his mighty business was to know how his -laundress did; and if the maid got the better of her in the legacy he -gave her for her last consolations. Before I could recollect the secret -history of his amours, I was very courteously address’d by Mr. Common -Serjeant _C----p_, who likewise in a florid stile, requested me to -inform him, if any of his modern bawds, that so punctually attended him, -had suffer’d any prejudice by his absence: He was mightily in doubt of -their success, because experience had taught him, that _paupers_ in -matters of law proceed but heavily; however, he could but wish them -well, because that tho’ they were bad clients, he had always found them -good procurators---- My lady _Tysiphone_ made a sumptuous entertainment, -and the countess of _Clotho_ danc’d smartly; the king of _Spain_ -resented mightily that so many _English_ were there, and had almost bred -a quarrel; but _Don Sebastian_ king of _Portugal_, made up the matter, -by declining the _Spanish_ faction, and said, it was highly unjust that -the _English_ should be male-treated in their universal interest, -because he was a fool, and the cardinal that made his will a knave, and -the king of _France_ a tyrant. But the catastrophe of this fit of the -spleen of the supercilious _Spaniard_ was comical enough; for in the -crowd that was come together upon the notice of his heart-burning, who -should stumble upon one another but _Godfrey Wood_---- the attorney, who -you may remember (brother) was committed for saying to a certain lord -chancellor, that he was his first maker; tho’ the truth of the matter -was, their intimacy at play made him presume to beg the small favour of -his lordship, to pass an unjust decree in favour of his client. Well, -Sir, said the attorney to his lordship, now you are without your mace, I -must tell you, that had not you invited me to supper the same day you -sent me to the _Fleet_, I should have taken the freedom to have let you -known, that in this king’s dominions we are all equal. I left ’em hard -at all-fours for a quart of _Acheron_, where they bite their nails like -mad, and divert others with their passion and concern---- But the -postillion is mounting, and I must defer the rest of my adventurers to -the next opportunity. - - -_The End of the first Part._ - -[Illustration] - - - - -LETTERS - -FROM THE - -DEAD _to the_ LIVING. - - - - -PART II. - - - - - _A Letter from Seignior_ GIUSIPPE HANESIO, _High-German Doctor and - Astrologer in_ Brandinopolis, _to his Friends at_ WILL_’s - Coffee-House in_ Covent-Garden. _By Mr._ THO. BROWN. - - -_Gentlemen_, - -Unless my memory fails me since my coming into these subterranean -dominions, ’twas much about this time last year, that I did myself the -honour to write to you: perhaps you expected a frequenter commerce from -me; and indeed, I should have been very proud to have maintained it on -my side, since nothing so much relieves me in these gloomy regions, as -to reflect on the many pleasant moments I have formerly pass’d in -_Covent-Garden_; but, alas! gentlemen, not to mention the great -difficulty of keeping such a correspondence, our lower world is nothing -near so fruitful in news as yours; one single sheet of paper will almost -contain the occurrences of a whole year; and were it not for the -numerous crowds of _Spaniards_, _French_, _Poles_, _Germans_, &c. that -daily arrive here, and entertain us with the transactions of _Europe_, -hell would be as melancholy a place as _Westminster-Hall_ in the long -vacation; and the generality of people among us would have as little to -employ their idle hours, as a lord-treasurer in _Scotland_, or a barber -in _Muscovy_. Besides, to speak more particularly, as to myself, that -everlasting hurry and tide of business, wherein I hive been overwhelm’d -ever since I honour’d myself with the title of _High-German_ doctor and -astrologer, does so entirely challenge all my time, that if you will -take my word, (and I hope you don’t suspect a person of my veracity) I -am forc’d, at this present writing, to deny myself to all my patients, -tho’ there are at least some half a score coaches with coronets waiting -now at my door, that I might receive no interruption from any visitants, -while I was dispatching this epistle to you. - -My last, gentlemen, as you may easily remember, if you have not buried -such a trifle in oblivion, concluded with my taking a large house here -in _Brandinopolis_, and setting up for a physician and fortune-teller: I -shall now proceed to acquaint you, by what laudable artifices and -stratagems I advanced myself into that mighty reputation; in which, to -the admiration of this populous town, I at present flourish; what -notable cures I have performed, what sort of customers chiefly resort to -me; and lastly, To give you a short account of the most memorable -occurrences that have lately happen’d in these parts. - -By the direction of my worthy friend, Mr. _Nokes_, who liberally -supply’d me with money to carry on this affair, I took a spacious house -in the great _Piazza_ here, then empty by the death of one of the most -eminent physicians of this famous city. This you must own to me, -gentlemen, was as favourable a step at my first setting out, as a man -could possibly wish; for you cannot be ignorant how many sorry brothers -of the faculty in _London_ keep their coaches, and wriggle themselves -into business, with no other merit to recommend them, than that of -dwelling in the same house where a celebrated doctor lived before them. -For this reason, I suppose, it was, (if you can pardon so short a -digression) that the popes came to monopolize the ecclesiastical -practice of the western world to themselves, by succeeding so great a -bishop as St. _Peter_. So much is the world govern’d by appearances, and -so apt to be cheated, as if knowledge and learning were bequeath’d to -one house or place; and like a piece of common furniture, went to the -next inhabiter. - -But to dismiss this speculation, which perhaps may seem somewhat odd, -from a man of my merry character; having provided my house with every -thing convenient, adorn’d my hall with the pictures of _Galen_, -_Hippocrates_, _Albumazar_, and _Paracelsus_; cramm’d my library with a -vast collection of books, in all arts and languages, (tho’ under the -rose be it spoken, my worthy friends, your humble servant does not -understand a syllable of them) furnish’d it with a pair of globes -curiously painted, with the _exuviæ_ of two or three _East-India_ -animals, a rattlesnake and a crocodile; and set up a fine elaboratory in -my court-yard. In short, after having taken care to set off my hall, -parlour and study, with all those noble decorations that serve to amuse -the multitude, and create strange ideas in them, I order’d a spacious -stage to be erected before my own habitation, got my bills ready -printed, together with a long catalogue of the cures perform’d by me, -during the time of my practising physick in your upper world; and then I -broke out with a greater expectation and _eclat_ than any doctor before -me was ever known to do. - -Three or four weeks before I made my appearance in publick, which, as I -told you before, I intended to make with all the magnificence -imaginable, Mr. _Nokes_ and I, in conjunction with my brother comedian, -_Tony Lee_, laid our heads together, how to sham me upon the town for a -_virtuoso_, a miracle-monger, and what not. To favour this design, we -sent for three or four topping apothecaries to the tavern, gave them a -noble collation, and when half a dozen bumpers of wine had got us a free -admission into their hearts, we fairly let them into the secret; which -was, That they were to trumpet me up in all coffee-houses and places of -publick resort in town, for the ablest physician that ever came into -these parts; and as one kindness justly challenges another, I for my -part was to write bills as tall as the monument, and charge them with -the most costly medicines, tho’ they signify’d nothing at all to the -patient’s recovery. In short, the bargain was immediately struck up -between us; and those worthy gentlemen, I’ll say that for them, have not -been wanting to proclaim my extraordinary merits to all their -acquaintance. - -This was not all; but Mr. _Nokes_, who was resolv’d at any rate to -introduce me into business, coming into one of the best frequented -chocolate-houses near the court, (for _Brandinopolis_, you must know, is -a perfect transcript of your wicked city) on a sudden pretends to be -troubled with intolerable gripings of the guts; and acted his part so -dextrously, that all the company pitied him, and thought he would expire -upon the spot. Immediately two or three doctors were sent for; who, -after a tedious consultation, at last pitch’d upon a never-failing -remedy, as they were pleas’d to call it; which accordingly they apply’d, -but without the desired effect. As his pains still continued upon him, -_What_, says he, _must I die here for want of help? And is there never -another physician to be had for love nor money?_ With that a certain -gentleman, that was posted there for that purpose, Sir, says he, there’s -a _German_ doctor lately come here, but for my part, I dare not -recommend him to you, for he’s a perfect stranger to us, and no body -knows him. _Oh, send for him, send for him_, cries Mr. _Nokes_, _these_ -German _doctors are the finest fellows in the world; who can tell but he -may give me present ease?_ Upon this, a messenger was hurried to me with -all expedition: I told him I would come so soon as I had dispatch’d a -patient or two; and in a quarter of an hour came thundering to the door -in my chariot, and all the way pored upon a little book I carried in my -hands; tho’ I must frankly own to you, that a coach is as uncomfortable -a place to read, as to consummate in; but, gentlemen, ’tis with us here, -as in your world, nothing is to be done without policy and trick: -marching into the room with that gravity and solemn countenance, which -we physicians know so well to put on upon these occasions, and brushing -thro’ a numerous crowd of spectators, who stood there, expecting to see -what would be the result of this affair, I found Mr. _Nokes_ in such -terrible agonies, that any man would have swore he could not out-live -another minute. I felt his pulse, and told him, that by the -irregularities of his systole, and unequal vibration of his diastole, I -knew as well what ail’d him, as if I had seen him taken to pieces like -a watch; and plucking a small chrystal bottle out of my pocket, Sir, -says I to him, take some half a score drops of this _Anodyne Elixir_, -and I’ll engage all I am worth in the world, it will immediately relieve -you. But, under favour, Sir, to give you some short account of it before -you take it, you must understand, Sir, ’tis composed of two costly and -sovereign ingredients, which no man, besides myself, dares pretend to. -The first, Sir, is the celebrated balsam of _Chili_, (tho’ by the by, -the devil a jot of balsam, comes from that _Pagan_ place) and the -second, Sir, that most excellent cephalick, which the mongrelian -physicians call, the _electrum_ of _Samogitia_, gather’d at certain -seasons, Sir, upon the shore of the _Deucalidonian_ ocean, by the -_Ciracassian_ fishermen. Mr. _Nokes_ listned to this edifying discourse -with wonderful attention, then followed my direction; and before you -could count twenty, got upon his legs, took a few turns about the room, -cut a caper a yard high, and kindly embracing me, doctor, says he, I am -more obliged to you, than words are able to express; you have delivered -me from the most intolerable pains that ever poor wretch groan’d under: -and then presenting me with a purse of guineas, I hope you’ll be pleas’d -to accept of this small trifle, till I am in a capacity of making you a -better acknowledgment: However, to express in some measure my gratitude -to yourself, as likewise to shew my regard for the publick welfare, I -will take care to get the extraordinary cure advertised in the -_Gazette_, and other publick papers. I told him he had more than paid me -for so inconsiderable a a matter, adding, That I was at his service -whenever he or any of his friends would do me the honour to send for me; -and so took my leave of him. - -This miraculous operation (for so they were pleased to christen it) -occasion’d a great deal of talk in the town, very much to my advantage; -but what happen’d three days after, perfectly confirm’d all sorts of -people, that I was a _Non-pareil_ in my profession, and out-went all -that ever pretended to physick before me. - -_Tony Lee_, who, as I told you in my last, keeps a conventicle in this -infernal world, and was engag’d as well as my brother _Nokes_ in the -confederacy to serve me, took occasion to be surpris’d with apoplectick -fits in the beginning of his sermon; he had hardly split and divided his -text, according to the usual forms, but his eyes rowl’d in his head, -every muscle in his face was distorted; he foam’d at mouth, fumbled with -the cushion, over-set the hour-glass, dropp’d his notes and bible upon -the clerk’s head, and at last down he sunk as flat as a flounder to the -bottom of the pulpit. ’Tis impossible to describe to you what a strange -consternation the auditory were in at this calamitous disaster that had -befallen their minister: the men stared at one another, as they had been -all bewitch’d; and the women set up such a hideous screaming and -roaring, that I question whether they would have done so much if a -regiment of dragoons had broke into the room to ravish them. The duchess -of _Mazarine_ chafed his temples; Mother _Stratford_ (of pious memory) -lugg’d a brandy-bottle out of her pocket, and rubb’d his nostrils; but -still poor _Tony_ continu’d senseless, and without the least motion. -When they found all these means ineffectual, at last the whole -congregation unanimously resolv’d to send for me; who, according as it -had been agreed before-hand between us, soon brought my holy _Levite_ to -his senses again, by applying a few drops of my aforesaid _Elixir_ to -his temples. Honest _Tony_ was no sooner recover’d, but I had the thanks -of the whole assembly; and a reverend elder in a venerable band, that -reach’d from shoulder to shoulder, offer’d me a handsome gratuity for my -pains; but I refus’d it, telling him, I look’d upon myself sufficiently -rewarded, since I had been the happy (tho’ unworthy) instrument in the -hand of providence (and then I turn’d up the whites of my eyes most -religiously towards Heaven) to save the life of so precious and powerful -a divine. - -This pair of miraculous cures flew thro’ every street, alley, and corner -of the town, like a train of gun-powder, with more expedition and -improvements, than scandal used, in my time, to walk about _Whitehall_; -and as it usually happens, in these cases, lost nothing in the relation. -The godly party much magnify’d me for refusing the unrighteous _mammon_ -when it was offer’d me; my two trusty apothecaries talk’d of nothing but -the prodigies of seignior _Hanesio_; but my surest cards, the midwives -and nurses, when the sack-posset and brandy began to operate in their -noddles, thought they could never say enough in my commendation. - -Thus, gentlemen, I had abundantly secur’d to myself the reputation of a -great physician; and nothing now remain’d, but to make the world believe -I was personally acquainted with every star in the firmament, could -extort what confessions I pleas’d out of the planets; and was no less -skill’d in astrology than in medicine. My never failing friend _Tony_, -was once more pleas’d to give me a lift upon this occasion. As the -dissenting ministers (you know) have the privilege to go into the -bed-chambers and closets of the ladies that resort to their meetings, -without the least offence or scandal, _Tony_ spy’d his opportunity, when -the room was clear, rubb’d off with a gold watch, and some lockets of -the duchess of _Mazarine_’s. The things were immediately missing, but -who durst suspect a person of the pious Mr. _Lee_’s character and -function? In short, every servant in the family was threatened with the -rack; and the whole house, trunks, coffers, boxes, and all examin’d, -from the garret down to the cellar. The poor duchess took the loss of -her watch and lockets mightily to heart, kept her bed upon it for a -fortnight; but at last was perswaded to make her application to my -worship. I told her, _sur le champ_, that her things were safe, that the -party who made bold with them, being troubled with compunctions of -conscience, had not sold but hid them under such a tree, which I -described to her in queen _Proserpine_’s park; and that if she went -thither next morning by break of day, she would find my words true. -Accordingly as I predicted, it happened to a tittle (for I had taken -care to lodge them there the night before). And now who was the -universal subject of people’s discourse, but the famous seignior -_Giusippe_. - -So that when the long expected day came, on which I was to make my -publick appearance, the streets, windows and balconies, were so cramm’d -with spectators of all sorts, that as often as I think on’t, I pity my -poor lord-mayor and aldermen with all my heart, that their -_Cheapside_-show shou’d fall so infinitely short of mine. _Tom -Shadwell_, who still keeps up his musical talent in these gloomy -territories, began the entertainment with thrumming upon an old broken -theorbo, and merry Sir _John Falstaff_ sung to him, and afterwards both -of them walk’d upon the slack rope, in a pair of jack-boots, to the -admiration of all the beholders. After the mob had been diverted for -some time with entertainments of this nature, and, particularly, by some -legerdemain tricks of _Appollonius Tyanæus_, my conjurer, being attended -by Dr. _Connor_, my toad-eater in ordinary, Mr. _Lobb_, the late -presbyterian parson, my corn-cutter; Sir _Patient Ward_, my -merry-andrew, and the famous _Mithridates_ king of _Pontus_, my orator, -I mounted the stage, and bowing on each side me, paid my respects to the -noble company, in a most ceremonious manner. I was apparell’d in a black -velvet coat, trimm’d with large gold loops of the newest fashion, and -buttons as big as ostrich’s eggs; my muff was at least an ell long. I -travers’d my stage some half a score times, then cocking my beaver, and -holding up my cane close to my nose after the manner of us sons of -_Galen_, I harangu’d them as follows: In the first place I told them, -That it was not without the utmost regret, that I saw so many quacks and -nauseous pretenders to the faculty, daily impose upon the publick. That -neither ambition, self-interest, or the like sordid motive, had tempted -me to expose myself thus upon the theatre of the world; and that nothing -but a generous zeal to rescue medicine out of the hands of a pack of -rascals, that were a dishonour to it, and the particular respect I bore -to the inhabitants of the most renown’d city of _Brandinopolis_; who for -their good breeding and civility to strangers, were not to be equall’d -in any of _Pluto_’s dominions, had prevail’d over my natural modesty, -and drawn me out of my beloved obscurity; that lastly, I requested a -favourable construction upon this publick way of practice, which some -impudent emperics (whom I scorn to mention) had render’d scandalous; and -as I was a graduate in several universities, would have certainly -declin’d, but that my regard for the _salus populi_ superseded all those -scruples; and made me rather hazard the loss of my reputation with some -censorious persons, than lose any opportunity of exerting my utmost -abilities for the benefit of mankind. - -When this harangue was over, I withdrew, and left the rest of the -ceremony to be perform’d by my orator _Mithridates_, who descanted a -long while upon my great experience and skill, my travels, and great -adventures in foreign countries; the testimonials, certificates, medals, -and the like favours, I had receiv’d from most of the crown’d heads and -princes in the universe. And when this was over, order’d _Matt. -Gilliflower_ and _Dick Bently_, two of my footmen to disperse printed -copies of my bill among the people, together with the catalogue of the -cures by me formerly perform’d in your upper hemisphere; both which -papers, because they contain something singular in them, and are written -above the common strain, I have given my self the trouble to transcribe. - -_Thesaurum & talentum ne abscondas in agro._ - -_Signior_ GUISIPPE HANESIO, High German _Astrologer -and Chymist; seventh son of a son, unborn doctor of -above sixty years experience, educated at twelve universities, -having travelled thro’ fifty two kingdoms, and -been counsellor to counsellors of several monarchs_. - -_Hoc juris publici in communem utilitatem publicum fecit._ - - Who by the blessing of _Æsculapius_ on his great pains, travels, - and nocturnal lucubrations, has attain’d to a greater share of - knowledge than any person before him was ever known to do. - - _Imprimis_, Gentlemen, I present you with my universal solutive, or - _Cathartic Elixir_, which corrects all the cacochymic and - cachexical diseases of the intestines; cures all internal and - external diseases, all vertiginous vapours, hydrocephalus, - giddiness, or swimming of the head, epileptic fits, flowing of the - gall, stoppage of urine, ulcers in the womb and bladder; with many - other distempers, not hitherto distinguish’d by name. - - _Secondly_, My friendly pill, call’d, _the never failing - Heliogenes_, being the tincture of the sun, and deriving vigour, - influence and dominion, from the same light; it causes all - complexions to laugh or smile, even in the very time of taking it; - which it effects, by dilating and expanding the gelastic muscles, - first of all discover’d by my self. It dulcifies the whole mass of - the blood, maintains its - -[Illustration: _Joe Haynes’s Mountebankˢ Speech_ - -_Vol: II. P. 140._] - - circulation, reforms the digestion of the chylon, fortifies the - opthalmic nerves, clears the officina intelligentiæ, corrects the - exorbitancy of the spleen, mundifies the hypogastrium, comforts the - sphincter, and is an excellent remedy against the prosopochlorosis, - or green-sickness, sterility, and all obstructions whatever. They - operate seven several ways in, order, as nature herself requires; - for they scorn to be confin’d to any particular way of operation, - _viz._ hypnotically; by throwing the party into a gentle slumber; - hydrotically by their operitive faculty, in opening the interstitia - pororum; carthartically, by cleansing the bowels of all crudities - and tartarous mucilage, with which they abound; proppysmatically, - by forcing the wind downward; hydragogically, by exciting urine; - pneumatically, by exhilerating the spirits; and lastly, - synecdochically, by corroborating the whole _oeconomia animalis_. - They are twenty or more in every tin-box, sealed with my coat of - arms, which are, _Three clyster pipes erect_ gules, _in a field - argent_; my crest, _a bloody hand out of a mortar, emergent_; and - my supporters, _a Chymist and an Apothecary_. This _Tinctura - Solaris_, or most noble off-spring of _Hyperion_’s golden - influence, wipes off abstersively all those tenacious, - conglomerated, sedimental sordes, that adhere to the œsophagus and - viscera, extinguishes all supernatural ferments and ebullitions; - and, in fine, annihilates all the nosotrophical or morbific ideas - of the whole corporeal _compages_. - - _Thirdly_, My _Panagion Outacousticon_, or auricular restorative: - were it possible to show me a man so deaf, that if a demiculverin - were to be let off under his ear, he could not hear the report, yet - these infallible drops (first invented by the two famous - physician-brothers, St. _Cosmus_, and St. _Damian_, call’d the - _Anargyri_ in the ancient _Greek_ menologies; and some forty years - ago, communicated to me by _Anastasio Logotheti_, a _Greek_ collier - at _Adrianople_, when I was invited into those parts to cure sultan - _Mahomet_ IV. of an elephantiasis in his diaphragm) would recover - his auditive faculty, and make him hear as smartly as an old - fumbling priest, when a young wench gives him account of her lost - maiden-head at the confessional. - - _Fourthly_, My _Anodyne Spirit_, excellent to ease pain, when taken - inwardly, and applied outwardly, excellent for any lameness, - shrinking or contraction of the nerves; for eyes, deafness, pain - and noise in the ears; and all odontalgic, as well as podagrical - inflammations. - - _Fifthly_, My _Antidotus Antivenerealis_; which effectually cures - all gonorrheas, carnosities in the delinquent part, tumours, - phymosis, paraphymosis, christalline priapisms, hemorrhoids, - cantillamata, ragades, bubos, imposthumations, carbuncles, - genicular nodes, and the like, without either baths or stoves; as - also without mercury so often destructive to the poor patient, with - that privacy, that the nearest relation shall not perceive it. - - _Sixthly_, My _Pectoral Lozenges_, or _Balsam_ of _Balsams_, which - effectually carries off all windy and tedious coughs, spitting of - blood, wheezing in the larynx and ptyalismus, let it be never so - inveterate. - - _Seventhly_, and _lastly_, My _Pulvis Vermifugus_, or _Antivermatic - Powder_ brings up the rear, so famous for killing and bringing away - all sorts of worms incident to human bodies breaking their - complicated knots in the _duodenum_, and dissolving the phlegmatick - crudities that produce those anthropophagous vermin. It has brought - away, by urine, worms as long as the may-pole in the _Strand_, when - it flourish’d in its primitive prolixity, tho’, I confess, not - altogether so thick. In short, ’tis a specifick catholicon for the - cholick, expels winds by eructation, or otherwise; accelerates - digestion, and creates an appetite to a miracle. - - I dexterously couch the cataract or suffusion, extirpate wens of - the greatest magnitude, close up hair-lips, whether treble or - quadruple; cure the polipus upon the nose, and all scrophulous - tumours, cancers in the breast, _Noli me tangeri_’s, St. - _Anthony_’s fire, by my new invented _unguentum Antipyreticum_, - excrescences, or superfluous flesh in the mouth of the bladder or - womb; likewise I take the stone from women or maids without - cutting. - - I have steel trusses, and instruments of a new invention, together - with never-failing medicines and methods to cure ruptures, and knit - the peritonæum. And here I cannot forbear to communicate an useful - piece of knowledge to the world, which is, that with the learned - _Villipandus_, in his excellent treatise, _de congrubilitate - materiæ primæ cum confessione Augustana_, I take a rupture to be a - relaxation of the natural cavities, at the bottom of the cremaster - muscles. But this, _en passant_, I forge all my self; nay my very - machines for safe and easy drawing teeth and obscure stumps. Mrs. - _Littlehand_, midwife to the princess of _Phlegethon_, can - sufficiently inform the women of my helps, and what I do for the - disruption of the fundament and uterus, and other strange - infirmities of the matrix, occasioned by the bearing of children, - violent coughing, heavy work, _&c._ which I challenge any person in - the _Acherontic_ dominions to perform, but my self. - - If any woman be unwilling to speak to me, they may have the - conveniency of speaking to my wife, who is expert in all feminine - distempers. She has an excellent cosmetick water to carry off - freckles, sun-burn, or pimples; and a curious red pomatum to plump - and colour the lips. She can make red hair as white as a lilly; she - shapes the eyebrows to a miracle; makes low foreheads as high as - you please, has a never failing remedy for offensive breaths, a - famous essence to correct the ill scent of the arm-pits, a rich - water that makes the hair curl, a most delicate paste to smooth and - whiten the hands; also, - - _A rare secret that takes away all warts,_ - _From the face, hands, fingers, and privy-parts._ - - Those who are not able to come to me, let them send their urine, - especially that made after midnight, and on sight of it, I will - tell them what their distemper is, and whether curable or no. Nay, - let a man be in never so perfect health of body, his constitution - never so vigorous and athletical, if he shews me his water, I can - as infallibly predict what distemper will first attack him, though - perhaps it will be thirty or forty years hence, as an astronomer, - by the rules of his science, can foretel solar or lunar eclipses - the year before they happen. I have predicted miraculous things by - the pulse, far above any philosopher: by it, I not only discover - the circumstances of the body; but if the party be a woman, I can - foretel how many husbands and children she shall have; if a - tradesman whether his wife will fortify his forehead with horns; - and so of the rest. This is not all, but I will engage to tell any - serious persons what their business is on every radical figure, - before they speak one word; what has already happen’d to them from - their very infancy down to the individual hour of their consulting - me, what their present circumstances are, what will happen to them - hereafter; in what part of the body they have moles; what colour - and magnitude they are of; and lastly, how profited, that is, - whether they calminate equinoctially or horizontally upon the - _Mesogastrium_; from which place alone, and no other, as the - profound _Trismegistus_ has observ’d before me, in his elaborate - treatise _de erroribus Styli Gregoriani_, all solid conjectures are - to be formed. - - I have likewise attained to the green, golden and black dragon, - known to none but magicians and hermatic philosophers; I tell the - meaning of all magical panticles, sigils, charms and lameness, and - have a glass, and help to further marriage; and what is more, by my - learning and great travels, I have obtained the true and perfect - seed and blossom of the female fern; and infinitely improv’d that - great traveller major _John Coke_’s famous necklaces for breeding - of teeth. The spring being already advanc’d, which is the properest - season for preventing new, and renewing old distempers, neglect not - this opportunity---- - - _My hours are from nine till twelve in the morning, and from two in - the afternoon till nine at night, every day in the week, except on - the real christian sabbath, called_ Saturday. - -_It may be of use to keep this advertisement._ - - - - -This, gentlemen, is an exact copy of my bill, which has been carefully -distributed all over this populous city, pasted upon the chief gates and -churches; and since dispersed by two running messengers, _Theophrastus -Paracelsus_ and _Cornelius Agrippa_, all over king _Pluto_’s dominions. -I forgot to tell you, that finding it absolutely necessary to take me a -wife, (the women in certain cases that shall be nameless, being -unwilling to consult any but those of their own sex) I was advised by -some friends to make my applications to the famous _Cleopatra_ queen of -_Egypt_, who being a person of great experience, and notably well -skill’d in the _Arcana_’s of nature, would in all probability make me an -admirable spouse. In short, after half a dozen meetings, rather for form -sake than any thing else, the bargain was struck, and a match concluded -between her _Alexandrian_ majesty and myself; cardinal _Wolsey_, who is -now curate of a small village, to the tune of four marks _per annum_, -and the magnificent perquisites of a bear and fiddle, perform’d the holy -ceremony: _Amphion_ of _Thebes_ diverted us at dinner with his crowd, -and all the while _Molinos_, the quietist, danced a _Lancashire_ jigg. -Sir _Thomas Pilkington_, who, as I told you in my last, is become a most -furious rhime-tagger or versificator, composed the _epithilamium_; and -_Sardanapalus_, _Caligula_, _Nero_, _Heliogabalus_, and pope _Alexander_ -VII. were pleas’d to throw the stocking. Her majesty, to do her a piece -of common justice, proves a most dutiful and laborious wife, spreads all -my plaisters, makes all my unguents, distills all my waters, and pleases -my customers beyond expression. - -Thus, gentlemen, you see my bill, by which you may guess whether I don’t -infinitely surpass those empty pretending quacks of your world, who -confine their narrow talent to one distemper, which they cure but by one -remedy; whereas all diseases are alike to me, and I have a hundred -several ways to extirpate them. I shall now trespass so far upon your -patience, as to present you with the catalogue of my cures, which being -somewhat singular, and out of the way, I have the vanity to believe will -not be unwelcome to you---- - - _A true and faithful Catalogue of some remarkable Cures perform’d - in the other_ World, _by the famous Signior_ GIUSIPPE HANESIO, - _High-German_ Doctor _and_ Astrologer. - - - By PLUTO’s Authority. - - _Hic est quam legis, ille quam requiris,_ - _Totis notus in inferis_ JOSEPHUS. - - Because I am so much a person of honour and integrity, that even in - this lower world I would not forfeit my reputation, I desire my - incredulous adversaries (of which number, being a stranger to this - place, I presume I have but too many) to get if they can to the - upper regions, and satisfy themselves of the truth of my admirable - performances. To begin then with those of quality. - - Pope _Innocent_ the eleventh was so strangely over run with a - complication of _Jansenism_, _Quietism_, and _Lutheranism_, that - not only his nephew, Don _Livio Odeschalchi_, but the whole sacred - consistory despaired of his recovery; I so mundify’d his - intellectuals with my catholick essence of _Hellebore_, that he - continued _rectus in cerebro_ many years after; and if the _French_ - ambassador, by making such a hubbub about his quarters, occasion’d - old infallibility to relapse, _Loüis le Grand_ must answer for it, - and not signior _Giusippe_. - - I cured the late _Sophy_ of _Persia_, _Shaw Solyman_ by name, of a - _Febris Tumulenta_, so that he could digest the exactions and blood - of a whole province, hold his hand as steady as _Harry Killegrew_ - after a quart of surfeit water in a morning; and if he dy’d - presently after, let his eunuchs and whores look to that, if one - with their politicks, and the other with their tails, spoil’d the - operation of my _Elixir magnum stomachicum_. - - I cured _Aureng-Zebe_, the old mogul, of an _epilepsia fanatica_, - with which he was afflicted to that degree, that patents were - dispatch’d, and persons named to go ambassadors extraordinary to - _William Pen_, _George Whitehead_, _William Mede_; the - _Philadelphians_, _Cameronians_, _Jesuits_, and _Jacobian - Whiskerites_, for a communication of diseases and remedies; but by - my cephalick snuff and tincture, I made him as clear headed a rake - as ever got drunk with classics at the university, or expounded - _Horace_ in _Will_’s coffee-house; and messengers were sent thro’ - all his empire to get him _Dutry_, _Bung_, _Satyrion_, - _Cantharides_, _Whores_, and _Schyraz wine_; and if he has since - fallen down to his _Alcoran_ and the flat effects of ninety seven - years of age, blame his damn’d courtiers and not me, that instead - of nicking the nice operation of the medicine, let in books and - priests, to debauch his understanding. - - I cured the _Mahometan_ predestinarian _Sultan_ of the great _East - India_ island _Borneo_, of want of blood, by counselling him to - follow his inclinations and bathe in it, that he might restore - himself by spight and percolation; but vexations from his _Divan_, - the neighbour emperor of _China_, a saucy young jackanapes, and a - sorrel hair’d female gave him such jolts, that quite spoil’d the - continuance of the noblest cure in the world. - - _Peter Alexowitz_, present czar of _Muscovy_, fell ill of a - _Calenture_ in _London_, occasion’d by putting too great a quantity - of gun-powder into his usquebaugh, and pepper into his brandy; all - the topping doctors of the town were sent for, and apply’d their - _Cortex_ and _Opium_ to no purpose. What should I do in this pinch, - but order’d a hole to be made in the _Thames_ for him, as they do - for the ducks in St. _James’s-Park_, it being then an excessive - frost, sous’d him over head and ears morning and night, and by this - noble experiment not only recovered him, but likewise gave a hint - to the setting up of a cold-bath near Sir _John Oldcastle_’s which - has done such miracles since. - - I cured a noble peer, aged sixty seven, of a perpetual priapism, so - that now his pimping valets, and footmen, his bawds, spirit of - _Clary_, and a maidenhead of fourteen can hardly raise him, who - before was scarce to be trusted with his own family; nay, his own - wife: and now he’s as continent and virtuous a statesman as ever - lin’d his inward letchery with outward gravity. - - A noble peeress, that lives not full a hundred miles from St. - _James_’s square, in the sixty sixth year of her age, was seiz’d - with a _furor uterinus_; by plying her ladyship with a few drops of - my _Antepyretical Essence_, extracted from a certain vegetable - gathered under the artic pole, and known to no body but myself, I - perfectly allay’d this preternatural ferment; and now she lies at - quiet, tho’ both her hands are unty’d as a new swaddled babe, and - handles no rascals but _Pam_, and his gay fellows of the cards. - - _Honoraria Frail_, eldest daughter to my old lady _Frail_ of - _Red-Lyon-Square_, by too prodigally distributing _les dernieres - feveurs_ to her mother’s sandy pated coachman and pages, had so - strangely dilated the gates _du citadel d’amour_, that one might - have marched a regiment of dragoons thro’ them. Her mother, who was - in the greatest perplexities imaginable upon the score of this - disaster, sent to consult me: With half a dozen drops of my _Aqua - Styptica_, _Hymenealis_, I so contracted all the avenues of the - aforesaid citadel, that the _Yorkshire_ knight that marry’d her, - spent above a hundred small-shot against the walls, and bombarded - the fortress a full fortnight before he cou’d enter it; and now - they are the happiest couple within the bills of mortality. - - I renewed the youth from the girdle downwards of madam _de - Maintenon_, so that she afforded all the delights imaginable, to - her old grand lover in imagination, and to the younger bigots and - herself in reality: while her face still remain’d as great an - object of mortification as her beads, death’s-head, and discipline; - and this noble cure still remains to be view’d by all the world. - - _Harry Higden_ of the _Temple_, counsellor, was so miserably - troubled with the long vacation disease, or the _defectus crumenæ_, - that the sage benchers of the house threatned to padlock his - chamber door for non-payment of rent. He asked my advice in this - exigence: I, who knew the full strength of his furniture, which - consisted of a rug, two blankets, a joint-stool, and a - tin-candlestick, that served him for a piss-pot when revers’d, - counselled him to take his door off the hinges, and lock it up in - his study. He followed my advice, and by that means escaped the - abovemention’d ostracism of the padlock. - - _Margaret Cheatly_, bawd, match-maker, and mid-wife of - _Bloomsbury_, by immoderate drinking of strong-waters, had got a - nose so termagantly rubicund, that she out-blazed the comet: my - cosmetic _Florentine-unguent_, absolutely reform’d this - inflammation, and now she looks as soberly as a dissenting - minister’s goggle-ey’d convenience. - - _Jerry Scandal_, whale and ghost printer in _White-Friers_, had - plagued the town above ten years with apparitions, murders, - catechisms, and the like stuff; by showing him the phiz of terrible - _Robin_ in my green magic-glass, I so effectually frighted him, - that he has since demolish’d all his letters, dismissed his - hawkers, flung up his business, and instead of news, cries - flounders and red-herrings about the streets. - - _Joachim Hazard_, of _Cripplegate_ parish in _White-cross-street_, - almost at the farther end near _Old-street_, turning in at the sign - of the _White Crow_ in _Goat-alley_, strait forward, down - three-steps at the sign of the _Globe_, was so be-devil’d with the - spirit of lying, that he out-did two hard mouth’d evidences in - their own profession, and could not open his mouth without - romancing; I made him snuff up some half a score drops of my - _Elixir Alethinum_, and now he has left off fortune-telling and - astrology, and is return’d to his primitive trade of weaving. - - _Farmer Frizzle-pate_, of _Bullington_, near _Andover_, had been - blind thirty five years and upwards; my _Ophthalmick_ drops - restor’d him to his sight in a minute, and now he can read a - _Geneva_ bible without spectacles. A certificate of this miraculous - cure, I have under the hand of the parson of the parish, and his - amen-curler. - - I cured a _Kentish_ parson of an _Infirmitas Memoriæ_, which he got - by a jumble of his _Glandula Pinealis_, after a bowl of punch and a - boxing-bout. He was reduc’d to that deplorable condition, as to - turn over play-books instead of his concordance, quote _Quæ Genus_ - instead of St. _Austin_; nay, he forgot tythe-eggs, demanded - _Easter_ dues at _Martinmas_, bid _Bartholomew-Fair_ instead of - _Ash-Wednesday_; and frequently mistook the service of matrimony, - for that of the dead: what is yet more surprising, he forgot even - to drink over his left thumb; but now he has as staunch a memory, - as a pawn-broker for the day of the month; a country attorney for - mischief; or a popish clergyman for revenge. - - I cured serjeant _Dolthead_, of a prodigious itch in the palms of - his hands: A most wonderful cure! for now he refuses fees, as - heartily as a young wench does an ugly fellow, when she has a - handsome one in view; his attorney is run mad, his wife is turn’d - bawd to take double fees; and his daughters mantua-makers and - whores, to get by two trades. - - An eminent coach-keeping physician was troubled with a _Farrago - Medicinarum_, or a _Tumor Prescriptionalis_ to that monstrous - degree, that he writ bills by the ell, and prescribed medicines by - the hogshead and wheelbarrow-full. To the amazement of all that - knew him: I have effectually cured him on’t; for he now writes but - three words, prescribes but two scruples, leaves people to a - wholesome kitchen-diet, and nature has undone the sexton and - funeral undertaker; and the overstock’d parish has petitioned the - privy-council to send out a new coloney to the _West-Indies_. - - I cured a certain head of a college, of a _Hebetude Cerebri_; so - that he now jokes with the bachelors and junior fry, goes to the - dancing-school with the fellow-commoners; and next act will be able - to make a whole _terræ filius_’s speech himself. - - An apothecary in _Cheapside_, was so strangely over-run with an - _Inundatio Veneni_, that the grass grew in the parish round him; - but now, thanks to the cure I wrought upon him, he has reduc’d his - shop to the compass of a raree-show, gets but ten pence in the - shilling, let the neighbouring infants grow up to men; and is going - to build an hospital for decay’d prize-fighters and dragoons. - - I cured a vintner behind the _Exchange_, of a _Mixtura Diabolica_, - so that now he hates apples as much as our forefather after his - kick on the arse out of paradice; shuns a drugster’s shop, as much - as a broken cit does a serjeant; swears he’ll clear but ten - thousand pounds in five years, and then set up for psalm-singing, - and sleeping under the pulpit. - - I cured a _Norfolk_ attorney of the _Scabies Causidico Rabularies_, - another prodigious cure never perform’d before; so that now he’s as - quiet as a cramb’d capon among barn door hens, he won’t so much as - scratch for his food; his uncle the counseller has disinherited - him; and since he has listed himself for a foot soldier. - - I cured an _Amsterdam_ burgomaster’s wife of barrenness, so that - now she has two children at a birth; besides a brace of sooterkins - every year, and even now in these low-countries (so effectual are - my remedies) I am teaz’d with daily messages, for astringents and - flood gates, to help the poor pains-taking mortal in his aquatic - situation. - - _Pierre Babillard_, _French_ valet and pimp in ordinary to my lord - _Demure_, was troubled with the _Glosso-mania_, or that epidemical - disease of _Normandy_, the talking sickness. He not only prattled - all night in his sleep, but his clack went incessantly all day - long; the cook-maid and nurse were talk’d quite deaf by him; - whereas his master labour’d under the contrary extreme, and by his - good will wou’d not strike once in twenty four hours; by the most - stupendous operation that ever was known, (for the transfusion of - one animal’s blood into another, so much boasted of by the royal - society, is not to be compared to it) I transfused some of the - _French_ valet’s loquacity into the noble peer, and some of the - noble peer’s taciturnity into the _French_ valet; so that now, to - the great consolation of the family, my lord sometimes talks, and - Monsieur _Babillard_ sometimes holds his tongue. - - Sir _Blunder Dullman_, professor of rhetorick, and orator to the - ancient city of _Augusta Trinobantum_, had been troubled, ever from - his infancy with that epidemical magistrate’s distemper, the _Bos_ - in _Lingua_; so that whenever he made any speeches, the gentlemen - were ready to split their sides, and the ladies to bepiss - themselves with laughing at the singularities of his discourse. By - my _Pulvis Cephalicus_, I so far recover’d him, that he cou’d draw - up his tropes and metaphors in good order, and harangue you twenty - lines upon the stretch, without making above the same number of - blunders. If he has since relapsed, ’tis no fault of mine, but he - may e’en thank his city conversation for it. - - _Dinah Fribble_, eldest daughter to _Jonathan Fribble_ of - _Thames-street_, tallow-chandler, was so enormously given to the - language of old _Babylon_, that she would talk bawdy before her - mother, her grandmother, and godmother; nay, name the two beastly - monosyllables before the doctor and lecturer of the parish. Her - father, one of the worshipful elders of _Salters-hall_, wondered - how a child so religiously educated, fed from her cradle with the - crumbs of comfort, and lull’d daily asleep with _Hopkins_ and - _Sternhold_, should labour under so obscene a dispensation. In - short, I was sent for, pour’d some twenty drops of my - _Anti-Asmodean_ essence into her nostrils, and the next morning a - huge thundering _Priapus_ eleven inches long, came out of her left - ear; she’s now perfectly recover’d, talks as piously, and behaves - herself as gravely as the demurest female in the neighbourhood. - - _Daniel Guzzle_, Inn-keeper in _Southwark_, by perpetual tippling - with his customers, was so inordinately swell’d with a dropsy, that - Sir _John Falstaff_, in _Harry_ the fourth, was a meer skeleton to - him. I tapp’d his _Heidelburg-Abdomen_, and so vast an inundation - issued from him, that if the stream had continued a quarter of an - hour longer, it would have overflowed the whole borough, and made a - second cataclysm. He is now perfectly cured, is as slender as a - beau that has been twice salivated for a shape; runs up the - monument some half a score times every morning for his diversion, - jumps thro’ a hoop, makes nothing of leaping over a five-barr’d - gate; and the famous Mr. _Barnes_ of _Rotherhith_ has enter’d him - into his company. - - _Obadiah Hemming_, Taylor, at the sign of the _Red-Wastcoat_ and - _Blazing-Star_, near _Tower-Hill_, was troubled with so unmerciful - a _Ptisick_, that no body in the family could sleep for him: I - ply’d him with my _Antitussient Pillula Pulmonaris_, but without - effect. I wondered how the devil my never-failing remedy - disappointed me! cries I to him, honest friend, what may your name - be? _Obadiah Hemming_, says he. Very well; and what parish do you - live in; _All-hallows-Barking_. Oh, ho! I have now found out the - secret how my pills came to miscarry; why, friend, thou hast a - damn’d ptisical name, and livest in a confounded ptisical parish: - come call thyself _Obadiah Bowman_, and get thee to _Hampstead_, - _Highgate_, or any place but _All-hallows-Barking_, and I’ll insure - thy recovery. He did so; and is so strangely improv’d upon it, that - he is since chosen into St. _Paul_’s choir, and begins to rival Mr. - _Goslin_ and Mr. _Elford_. - - _Rebbecca Twist_, Ribbon-Weaver, in _Drum-Alley, Spittle Fields_, - aged 75, by drinking anniseed-robin, geneva, and other ungodly - liquors, and smoaking mundungus, had so utterly decayed her natural - heat, that she had lain bed-rid thirty years, and on my conscience - a calenture would no more have warm’d her, than a farthing candle - would roast a sirloin of beef. I made so entire a renovation of her - with my _Arcanum Helmontio-Glaubero-Paracelsianum_, that she’s - become another creature, out-talks the parson and midwife at every - gossiping, dances to a miracle, never fails to give her attendance - at all merry meetings; and no sooner hears the noise of a fiddle, - but she frisks and capers it about, like a young hoyden of fifteen. - - _Nehemiah Conniver_, one of the city reformers, was so totally - deform’d with the _Lepra Hypocritica_, that never a barber, - victualler, or taylor in the neighbourhood could live in quiet for - him. To the admiration of all that knew him, I have so effectually - cured him of this acid humour, that he will out-swear ten dragoons, - go to a bawdy-house in the face of the sun; and out talk a score - of midwives in natural philosophy. - - Thus, gentlemen, you have my bill, and catalogue of cures, by which - you’ll easily perceive that our internal world is only a - counter-part of your’s, where hard words, impudence, and nonsense, - delivered with a magisterial air, carry every thing before them. I - should now according to the method proposed to myself, proceed to - give you a short account of what memorable occurrences have lately - happened in these _Acherontic_ realms, but the vast crowds of - visitants at my door are so obstreporous and troublesome, that I - can conceal myself from them no longer. Be pleas’d, therefore, to - accept of this imperfect relation in part of payment, and next - month, when I shall have a better convenience of writing my - thoughts at large, I will endeavour to give you full satisfaction. - In the mean time, give me leave to assure you, that my highest - ambition is to honour myself with the title of, - -_Gentlemen, -Your most obedient and -most humble Servant_, -GIUSIPPE HANESIO. - - - - - - - -_Sir_ FLEETWOOD SHEPHERD _to Mr._ PRIOR. - - -It is some time since (you know) that I took my leave of you, and the -sun, and I fear’d of all good company too. My curiosity to observe the -nature of an affair, whereof every body talks, tho’ not one of them can -understand, made me so long silent; that if it were possible I might -give my friends some account or other that should be of moment to them, -either for diversion or improvement. Your weighty affairs prevent the -one, and your capacity the other; but that you may see friendship as -well as virtue survives the grave, I address this to you, to assure you, -we are not annihilated, as some philosophers opened, and that our -felicity does not consist in an unactive indolence as others as vainly -pretended. Virtue is its own reward, and vice its own punishment. We -are so refined here, that nothing can veil evil from the piercing eyes -of every body, and the malice and envy of the most inveterate devils -cannot over-cast the glories of the good. We impute a great many faults -to the frailty of the flesh very unjustly. The soul hath its warpings as -well as the clay, and some vices are so natural that we cannot -extinguish them, tho’ we may in some measure prevent their flaming out -and boiling over. These remain still, and employ all the utmost efforts -of our prudence to triumph over; and if we accomplish that, we are -perfect; but if the malignity of our tempers prevail, we sink to the -lowest abyss of infamy, shame, and disgrace. This laid the foundation of -that doctrine of _Rome_, called Purgatory; and their ignorance, joined -to their insatiable avarice, improved it to what at present you find it. -Here is one duke of _Buckingham_, perpetually conferring with the -_Spanish_ ministers; the other as busy in finding out the mighty secrets -of impertinent curiosities; here’s _Mazarine_ supplanting the liberty of -_Europe_, and _Cromwell_ that of _England_. _Shaftsbury_ is pushing on -_Monmouth_, and he is stiled king by one of his own footmen only; -_Dryden_ is every minute at _Homer_’s heels, or pulling _Virgil_ by the -sleeve, importuning _Horace_, or making friends to _Ovid_: but _Cowley_, -with a serenity of mind that constitutes his felicity, quietly passes -along the _Elysian_ plains, disturbing no body, and undisturb’d of all, -_Milton_ his companion, and himself his happiness. The less considerable -fry of wits are just as contentious here, as at _Covent Garden_; as -noisy, and as ill-natur’d; every man in particular arrogating all to -himself, and allowing nothing to others. The dispute rose so high, and -the uproar continued so long, that _Pluto_ commanded a squadron of his -life-guard, with _Juvenal_ at their head, to force them out of the -laurel-grove, and lock it up till matters should be adjusted by -_Apollo_, to whom he detach’d _Lucan_ and _Lee_ (as being the best -skill’d in flying) with his complaints; they are returned with a -proclamation, which for its novelty I will trouble you with; not but -that I think it might not improperly have been made on the other side of -_Parnassus_, unless matters are strangely mended since I left you. - -We _Apollo_, by the Grace of _Jupiter_, Emperor of _Parnassus_, -King of Poetry, Sovereign Prince of Letters, -Duke of the _Muses_, Marquis of Light, and Earl of the -Four Seasons, _&c._ to all our Trusty and well Beloved -Explorers of Nature, and Cherishers of Learning, -Greeting. - - _Whereas we are inform’d to our ineffable displeasure, grief, - sorrow and concern, that many fewds, jars, quarrels, animosities, - and heart-burns are ever and anon kindled, stirr’d up, and fomented - among the elder brothers of_ Helicon, _as well as the multitude of - vain pretenders to bayes and immortality, in so much, that your - bickerings, clamours, noise and disturbances, are of intolerable - inconveniency to the good and just; and an unhappy suspension of - the serenity of their minds, as well as so many perturbations and - infractions of the peace of our uncle king_ Pluto’_s dominions: - wherefore it is our royal will and pleasure, that these notorious - misdemeanours be forthwith remedied; promising upon our royal word, - that justice shall be duly executed to every body; and all men of - real merit and worth, lovers of wisdom and learning, of what nation - or sort soever, shall in their respective classes of virtue and - excellence, be registred in the glorious volumes of fame, to be - kept eternally in the_ Delphic _library: In pursuance whereof, we - do hereby earnestly require and injoin our beloved sisters the - Muses, to hold a court of claims in the principality of_ Delos, - _where we shall give our royal attendance so often as the fatigues - of our laborious course will permit us, to examine all capacities, - claims, titles, and pretensions whatever: and to avoid all lets, - troubles, hinderances, molestations, and interruptions that - possibly we can: we do farthermore hereby strictly prohibit and - forbid, upon pain of our highest displeasure, and a hundred years - interdiction from the laurel-grove, all sonneteers, songsters, - satyrists, panegyrists, madrigallers, and such like impediments of_ - Parnassus, _to make any pretensions whatever to reputation and - immortality; till such time as the more laborious and industrious - investigators of nature are regulated and dispatch’d_. - -Given at our High Court of _Helicon_, this 47th Century, -from our Conquest of _Python_. - - - - - At present the versifyers are much humbled, for the laurel-grove is - their chiefest delight; ’tis their park, their playhouse, their - assembly. I find all the vices of the mind are common here, as in - your superiour regions: separating from the clay has only taken - from us the means of whoring and drinking, but the mind retains - still the wicked propensity. I considered not the pressing number - of your affairs, and that I hazard your ill-will by detaining you - so long from the publick: give me leave only to desire the favour - of you, when your servant goes through _Chancery-lane_, to put up a - cargo of the _spread-eagle_ pudding for our very good friend - counsellor _Wallop_, for he is inconsolable: twenty of the best - cooks, nay, Mr. _Lamb_ himself can’t make one to please him. Live - in health, I know you cannot learn. - - - -_Mr._ PRIOR_’s Answer_. - - _Worthy Sir_, - - I was not wanting in my wishes to preserve that esteem you honoured - me with, or to give you fresher instances of it; but since your - stars summoned you on the other side of the black water, and I did - not know whither to address myself exactly to you, I was obliged to - suspend my writing till such time as I received your’s. I am - heartily glad the two crowns are agreed to permit a pacquet to go - between them; and as for our friend the counsellor, I never shall - be dilatory in serving him to the utmost of my abilities, and never - shall call to mind but with veneration and wonder, his most heroick - conduct and magnanimity in pudding-fighting. He sequester’d himself - from flesh and blood very opportunely, and with a prudence that - always accompanied him in the minutest of his actions; for sugars - and fruits are risen already, and, in all probability, will - continue to bear a good price, since _Portugal_ has deserted us; so - I dare not pretend to be positive that the cargo I send will be as - delicious as formerly, tho’ its novelty may make amends for some - time, for small cheats in that profession. Honest _John_ the - faithful companion of your wanton hours, was very much rejoiced to - hear from you, and would needs take a leap after you, maugre all I - could say to him: with this trusty servant I have sent you what you - desired, and that I might be certain of its not miscarrying any - where upon the road, I tuck’d friend _John_ up with it, and so - dispatch’d him presently. I was in hopes to have heard from more of - our merry companions, or of them at least: how does _Rochester_ - behave himself with his old gang? is Sir _George_ as facetious as - ever? is my lady still that formal creature as when in our - hemisphere? has she the benefit of cards and a tea-table? how did - my lord _Jefferies_ receive his son? and with what constancy did - her grace hear Sir _John Germain_ was married? I was in hopes you - might have met with some of these in your peregrination, not that I - suppose you can see those vast dominions of _Pluto_’s but in a - proportionable time to the variety of subjects, as well as the - mightiness of their extent. - - We have nothing new here, because we are under the sun. Wise men - keep company with one another; fools write and fools read; the - booksellers have the advantage, provided they don’t trust; some - pragmatical fellows set up for politicians; others think they have - merit because they have money. Cheats prosper, drunkenness is a - little rebuked in the pulpit, but as rife as ever in all other - places; people marry that don’t love one the other, and your old - mistress _Melisinda_ goes to church constantly, prays devoutly, - sings psalms gravely, hears sermons attentively, receives the - sacrament monthly, lies with her footman nightly, and rails against - lewdness and hypocrisy from morning till night. - - The rest of particulars I leave for honest _John_ to recount to - you; my other affairs oblige me to take my leave of you; expecting - some particulars about what I mentioned myself. - -_Yours_, &c. - - - - - -POMIGNY _of_ Auvergne, _to Mr._ ABEL _of_ London, _Singing-Master_. - - -_SIR_, - -The sons and daughters of harmony that crowd in daily upon these coasts -surprise us equally with your capacities and misfortunes. We are -generally of the opinion here, that the muses are as well receiv’d in -_England_, as in any other climate whatever. Men are charm’d there at so -small an expence of wit or performance, that, one of your endowments -might well have hop’d to outrival my felicity, and be something more -exalted than to the embraces of a queen. My parentage was as little -remarkable in _France_, as yours in _England_; and though I had better -luck, durst not pretend I had a better voice. From a singing-boy, I -push’d my fortune so as to succeed my own sovereign. From the choir I -rose to the chamber; from the chamber I was preferr’d to the closet; and -from thence was advanc’d to be vice-roy over all the territories of -love: I was lord high-chamberlain to _Cupid_, and comptroller of the -houshold to _Venus_. Every delectation superseded my very wishes; nor -cou’d I have ask’d for the thousandth part of the blandishments I -enjoy’d. I was as absolute in my love as the grand seignior: ’twas for -my dear sake the fond princess rais’d her maids of honour’s beds, that -she might not hurt her back (as she had frequently done) in creeping -under to fetch me out. ’Twas for my dear sake, that if they but nam’d my -name when absent, in the raptures of her impatience, she run against the -doors, threw down the screens; hurt her face against the mantle-trees -and cabinets. She broke at times as much in looking-glasses, stands, and -china, in the eager transports of her joy to meet me coming into the -room, as by computation, wou’d have fitted out a fleet of fifty sail of -capital ships. These were princely rewards for a man’s poor endeavours -to please: who would not bring up their children in a choir? or who -would not learn to sing? you have met, I must confess, Sir, with but -small encouragement in the main, and made but a slender fortune in -comparison of what might have been reasonably expected from your -talents: the most civiliz’d quarter of the world has been your audience, -and admirer; and you have left every where a name, that cannot die but -with musick, and that will survive even nature; for in the numerous -cracklings of the last conflagration, there will be, as it were, a noble -symphony, that she may cease to be in proportion, and what is her -apothesis, will draw the curtain to a new creation. But that enlargement -of our knowledge, which is the necessity of our spiritualization, shows -me there is a malevolency in the influences of your stars, that will -ever dash your rising hopes, and oppose your fortune. You cannot but -have heard how _Alexander the Great_ very generously distributed all the -spoils to his soldiers, and contented himself with glory for his -dividend. Thus your consolation must be, whenever the fickle goddess -frowns upon you; that noble resolution of being above contempt, shows a -magnanimity of mind equal to the greatest philosopher. But virtue is -very often unfortunate, nay, sometimes oppress’d. - -Here are some devilish, ignorant, censorious, lying people, that will -maintain, you were so impertinent as to give a gentleman, the trouble of -cudgelling you, and there are many here whose wicked tempers are -improv’d by the conversation of the place, as rogues by being in -_Newgate_, and those give credit to the aspersions; but the tribe of -_Helicon_ endeavour your justification, for he that cou’d charm the king -of _Poland_’s bears with the warbling accents of his mellifluous tongue, -might with the same harmony have mov’d the sturdy oak, and that is as -heavy as a hundred canes. ’Twas the glory of _Arion_, that the stones -danced after his lyre; and as long as there are poets it will be said, -that _Orpheus_ drew the tigers and the trees, to listen to his trembling -lays. May you not justly expect a place in the volumes of immortality, -since it may be all said literally true of you, that was but a fable of -these darlings of our forefathers? no matter if some people put an ill -construction on it, the best actions of our lives are subject to be -traduc’d.---- Here was a dear joy of quality suffer’d the discipline of -the place for stealing the diamond ring from you, that the king of -_France_ gave you at _Fountainbleau_: to mitigate the blackness of the -fact, he alledg’d the necessitousness of his condition, and that it was -pity so many gallant men should want for their loyalty, while a -jackanapes cou’d get an estate for a song. At this, _Rhadamanthus_ -order’d him a hundred stripes more for his pride in affecting a -character his own confession had so far derogated from. There are some -considerable stars that rise in _Bavaria_, whose influences are -inauspicious to you; for, among friends, ’twas no better than robbing -him to run away with his money, and especially before you had done any -thing for it. However, this may be your consolation, that the duke can’t -say you cheated him to some tune. Here is a consort of musick composing -against the king of _France_ makes his entrance: out of gratitude to his -generosity, you ought to make one of ’em; I can get you a lodging near -_Cerberus_’s apartment; ’twill be convenient for you to confer notes -together for he is much the deepest base of any here. - -If your leisure will permit, I should be glad of some news from the -favourites of _Parnassus_: I am continually at the chocolate house in -the _Sulphurstreet_. I shall look upon the obligation in _Ala-mi-re_ in -_Alt_. - - - - -_Mr._ ABEL’_s Answer_. - - -_SIR_, - -If the advice be seasonable, ’tis no great matter from whence it comes; -though ’tis not what one wou’d readily expect from a person of your -climate; but that too renders the obligation so much the more binding. I -was not so well acquainted with the ancient intrigues of the _French_ -court as to call your name to remembrance, but by the delicious -expression of your wanton delights, I presum’d you might have been a -_Mahometan_ eunuch, because you seem’d to describe their paradice in -part; what cou’d I tell whether more of that felicity came to your share -or not? I met _Aben-Ezra_ the _Jew_, but he knew nothing of you; at last -a _French_ refugee set me right. When I consider your private history I -am amaz’d at your raptures, and that you could be so void of common -reason, more especially after you had been so long spiritualiz’d, which -you tell me, enlarges the understanding, as to set a value upon your -self for raking a kennel, only because it belonged to court. To have -charm’d a person of an exalted extraction, as I did, and to bring her to -be the loving wife of my bosom, was vanity without infamy. But your -captive queen was a queen of sluts, equally the infamy of her own sex, -as you were the contempt of ours. ’Twas very pathetically said of her by -her brother, when he gave her in marriage to the king of _Navarre, that -he did not give his_ Peggy _in marriage to the king of_ Navarre _alone, -but to all the_ Hugonots _of his kingdom_, and if he had said, all the -_Roman Catholicks_ too, it had hardly been an hyperbole. For ever since -she was nine years old, she never deny’d any thing that was a man; no, -not so much as her own brother. She had so great an inclination to be -obliging, that she would not refuse even old age, and did not condemn -even the blackest scullion-boy of her kitchin: she was the refuse of a -hundred thousand several men’s embraces before she took up with you. So -that I see no such mighty ground for your vanity and ostentation: and if -there were not other more beneficial expectations from the choir, I -should advise but very few to follow it: not but that a fair friend in -the _Palace-yard_, a kind friend in _Charles-street_, or a pretty -intimate acquaintance near the _Bowling-Alley_, may help to pass away -some leisure hours when the _Abbey_ is lock’d up; however that is not -sufficient to tempt a man to _C-fa-ut_ it all ones life-time. - -I ever found an inbred aversion to _Ireland_, and your news gives me -more convincing reasons why I should not affect ’em: for to be stripp’d -by some, and stripp’d by others, would of itself give a man an -unfavourable Impression of such people. As for the freedom you take in -diverting yourself at my expence, I easily pass it by: but your -censoriousness scandalizes me, when so many very deserving persons of -all ranks, sexes and qualities, as are my good friends and benefactors, -are made the subject of your raillery. I do not want to be spiritualis’d -to see thro’ your banter, when you make me even superior to _Orpheus_ -and _Arion_; I smell what you wou’d be at, by being follow’d by tigers, -blocks and stones: but it is lucky enough for you, that you are out of -their reach: as for the article of _Bavaria_, I can say but little to it -more than I thought the time was come, when the _Israelites_ should -spoil the _Egyptians_. You have such continual couriers from these -parts, that you cannot be long ignorant of the minutest springs by which -all affairs are kept in motion. To me they seem everywhere to be at much -the same rate, like a horse in a mill, ’tis no matter who drives him. I -thank you for your kind offer, in providing me lodgings; but I have so -many of my friends gone there of late, that I shall unwillingly be from -them: however, I shall always study to improve your good opinion, and -continue theirs. If any accident calls me to your parts about that time, -I shall gladly assist at the king of _France_’s entry; for doubtless it -will be done with a most noble solemnity, and every way answerable to -the character of such a monarch. But as time is more precious here than -in your country, I must beg you to excuse me, for I am just sent for to -the tavern. _Adieu._ - - - - -_Seignior_ NICHOLA _to Mr._ BUCKLY, _at the_ Swan _Coffee-House near_ -Bloomsbury. - - -It is impossible to suffer it any longer! what, my diviner airs made the -sordid entertainment of sordid footmen, scoundrel fellows, and I know -not what for ragamuffins! must those seraphic lays, that have so often -been the delight of muses, the joy of princes, the rapture of the fair -sex, the treasures of the judicious, must these be thrumm’d over to -blaspheming rascals, smoaking sots, noisy boobies, and such nefarious -mechanicks! oh, prophane!---- they shall have my sonatas, that they -shall with a horse-pox to them. Can’t their _Darby_ go down but with a -tune, nor their tobacco smoak, without the harmony of a _Cremona_ -fiddle? if they can’t be merry without musick, provide them a good key, -and a pair of wrought tongs. One of their own jigs is diverting enough -for their heavy capacities; whence comes it that the sons of art, and -the brothers of rosin and cat-gut, can demean themselves so poorly to -play before them? since when have the daughters of _Helicon_ frequented -ale-houses? must the sacred streams of our _Aganiope_, pay homage to the -_Darwent_, and wash tankards and glasses? sure you think _Pegasus_ a -jade, and are looking out for a chap for him: who can come up to his -price there? his beauties are too sublime for the groom, and his master -had rather have a strong horse for his coach: none of them alas can tilt -the fiery courser. What a strange medley do you make! wit, musick, -noise, nonsense, smoak, spawl, _Darby_-ale, and brandy: nay your rage -and indiscretion goes farther yet; folly and madness seem to be -contagious, and you jar among yourselves? the brothers of symphony -quarrel, and turn the banquetting-house of the _Thessalian_ ladies into -a bear-garden, those active joints that so nicely touch’d my notes, are -now barbarously levell’d at each other’s eyes; the powerful off-spring -of my harmonious conceptions, is miserably torn to pieces betwixt them; -and what would have charm’d all mankind, is dishonourably employ’d to -the lighting of pipes and cleaning of tables. If you will set up for -celebrating the orgies of the juicy god, let your instruments be all -chosen accordingly, your airs correspondent to the audience; but make me -no more the contempt and derision of your debauch’d meetings: for the -commendation of fools is more wounding than the reprimands of the -ingenious. At best, it is prostituting me to bring them into my company. -If you put not some sudden order to these ignominious proceedings, I -will dispatch an imp to sowre your ale, consume your cordials, spill -your tobacco, break your glasses, and cut all your equipage of harmony -into ten thousand millions of bits; nay I will prosecute my revenge so -far, that even in the play-house your hand shall shake, your ear shall -judge wrong, your strings crack, and every disappointment that may -render you ridiculous, shall attend you in all publick meetings -where-ever you pretend to play. So be wise and be warn’d: play to lovers -and judges of musick, draw drink to sots and neighbours. - - - - -IGNATIUS LOYOLA _to the Archbishop of_ Toledo. - - -Your eminency’s remissness in the late affairs of the _Spanish_ -territories, has made my scorpion’s stink deeper than heretofore, and -superadded a new blackness to the horrors of my rage and despair. Those -painful machinations, who took their birth from hell itself, and by my -industry and application had so glorious a prospect of bridling all -mankind, wherever the _Romish_ doctrine triumph’d at least, are now by -that long continued series of an unhappy supineness in your -predecessors, or the powerful influences of _French_ gold, reduc’d to -almost nothing. The thunderbolts of the inquisition rattled more -dreadfully than those of the _Vatican_; and after emperors had subjected -themselves to the successors of St. _Peter_, we found out means to -subject him to our censures, and by this made our selves superior to -supreme. The mildness of your executions, and the rarity of ’em have -substracted wonderfully from their reputation, and from my designs. -Your excellency can’t say but I lay down very sufficient groundworks for -the rendering my orders as lasting as religion, if not as lasting as -time. More than _Europe_ has felt the efficacy of my instructions; and -where-ever my disciples have been sent they have brought us home souls -and bodies, credit and estates. - -What society can vie with us for extent of temporal concerns? what -provinces are not in a great measure ours? we have the guardianship of -the consciences of most of the considerable crown’d heads, and few -affairs of importance are transacted any where but with our privity. I -have not met with any one person in these kingdoms that has been of note -and quality, that came here with a pass-port from the holy inquisition; -now and then a rascally _Jew_ or so, comes here blaspheming your power -and prudence; and is so angry that he will not show it at hell-gates; as -if he apprehended a double damnation from our character. - -Your excellency can’t but be sensible how great sufferers we have been -by the substracting of the _Gallican_ church from the lash of our -authority; and it was no small amputation we suffered in the _Spanish -Netherlands_, by the improvident proceeding of that rash commander the -duke of _Alva_: If now you submit thus quietly to the administration of -_France_, I cannot but apprehend an universal extention of that powerful -and profitable institution. Next to my own society, I look upon it to be -the basis of the _Romish_ monarchy, and undoubtedly of your own, and of -the _Austrian_ greatness. How are your liberties trampled upon by a -child, and all your dons led captives to _Versailles_? Where is the -antient valour and obstinacy of the _Moorish_ blood? Where are the -poisons and the poniards so frequent in _Madrid_? Is _Spain_ brought so -low that she has not resolution enough for one feeble effort, to save -herself from infamy and ruin? Your arms were always unsuccessful against -the _English_ nation; the greatness of your misery points out still the -memorable, the very deplorable overthrow in eighty eight: There is a -queen again upon that crown, willing and able to protect you as well as -others, and it may be in rubricks of fate, that as one queen brought -down the pride of the haughty _Spaniards_, so the other shall humble -_France_ as much, even when it is in its most tow’ring glory. But -whatever be the destiny of _France_, you ought to look after yourselves, -and not by an untimely accession of your powers to that of so formidable -a monarch, intangle yourselves in an inextricable ruin, by so much the -more unpardonable as you might easily have prevented it. Shew the world -then that a _French_ lion can’t thrive in a _Spanish_ soil, and dart -forth the lightning of the inquisition against all that adhere to the -_Gallic_ interest and connive at the ruin of the _Spanish_ grandeur. -Exert yourself and swim hither in a sea of blood, and may your cruelties -succeed. - - - - -_Alderman_ FLOYER _to Sir_ HUMPHERY EDWIN. - - -I ever had an infinite value for your friendship, and as every letter is -a fresh mark of it, I have in every one new matter of satisfaction; yet -I could not read your last without equal surprize and concern; and if I -did not positively believe your integrity, as I am acquainted with your -capacity, I should be at a loss what construction to put upon it: for -all _Europe_ has been deaf for I know not how many years, with more and -more accounts how your kings grew upon their people, and we ever look’d -upon the _English_ as very jealous of their privileges. I need not tell -you how odious your two last kings were to us of these parts; nay, and -all _Germany_ too, papist and protestant; for instead of holding the -balance between _France_, _Spain_ and the _Empire_, as the situation of -your country, and its mighty power by sea made ’em capable of doing, and -the character of guarantees for the peace of _Nimeguen_, and the truce -for twenty years oblig’d ’em to it; their siding with _France_, -notwithstanding all the endeavours of foreign ministers to the contrary, -and their own real interest too, may be justly said to have laid the -foundation of all those calamities that the arms and intrigues of -_France_, have since that time brought upon _Europe_. But tho’ we had so -many reasons to be dissatisfied with the proceedings of king _Charles_ -II. and king _James_ too, yet we never diminish’d any thing of our good -will we bore the _English_ nation; because we cou’d not but believe they -were as far from approving those transactions as we were, and repin’d -as much as we did at the growing grandeur of the _French_ monarch. The -clandestine measures both those kings took to enslave their subjects to -the power of _France_, and the _Romish_ religion, was as good a -demonstration of a natural enmity between those two sorts of people. His -present majesty’s descent was concerted with most of the princes of the -empire after it was so earnestly propos’d to him, and almost press’d -upon him by the very best of your nation. The friendship between the two -crowns was no longer a secret, tho’ the _English_ envoy at the _Hague_ -deny’d it positively when I was there: This was more than an umbrage to -the discerning part of your kingdom, and what the very commonality could -not think on without terrible apprehensions: and all of us here in like -manner look’d upon this enterprize as a thing on which depended the -safety or ruin of the whole protestant affairs of _Europe_. - -I cannot comprehend what unlucky planet rules over you! that any one -person should be dissatisfy’d, is prodigious to me. You are freed from -all those oppressions, whose probability alone having made no small part -of your misery. You were very uneasy under the administration of king -_James_, and now you are deliver’d, you murmur! you know his royal -highness was so unwilling to embark himself in this affair, tho’ his -interest and his honour were very much concern’d at it, that he did not -yield but to the iterated solicitations of your countrymen, join’d with -full assurance that they would stand by him with their lives and -fortunes. You must pardon the freedom of my expression, if I assure you, -that this ungrateful false step lessens my value for the _English_ -nation: for after having made such terrible complaints of their miseries -and injuries, and fill’d _Europe_ with their tears and lamentations, -implor’d a neighbouring prince to come to their rescue, at a season of -the year that wou’d have quell’d the greatest courage that ever was, if -it had not been supported with charity; and add to this, the unavoidable -necessity of so vast an expence, as would have sunk some princes -fortunes, now they are happily settled in their affairs at home, have -glorious armies abroad, and that king at their head, who has so justly -merited that title of _Defender of the Faith_, whose prudence and -vigilancy has corroborated their native force with so many powerful -allies; that these people should be so little sensible of their own -felicity, as to murmur and be discontented, is to me a paradox, but I am -sure unpardonable. The knowledge I have of the _English_ genius, makes -me believe there are but a few malecontents, and tho’ they call -themselves protestants, ’tis only to bring an odium upon those that -really are, by such perverse measures. I hope ’tis only your fears for -your country, which proceed from your love of it, that multiplies these -disagreeable objects. You have a protestant prince, on a protestant -throne, liberty of conscience, and even the _Roman Catholicks_, that -were always plotting against the government, are permitted so much -freedom under it, that they would be mad if they were out of it. - -Look back to the desolations in _France_, and to the storm you are -deliver’d from, and see if you can ever thank God enough for your -deliverance. - - - - - _Sir_ JOHN NORRIS _Commander in Chief of Her Majesty Queen_ - ELIZABETH’_s Land-Forces against the_ Spaniard, _to Sir_ HENRY - BELLASIS _and Sir_ CHARLES HARA. - - -_Gentlemen_, - -We had no sooner intelligence of your designs, but we gave the -_Spaniards_ over for lost: the path has been so gallantly beaten to your -hands, and your enemies hardly recruited their former losses in our -glorious times, if they cou’d have forgot from whose hands they -sustain’d ’em. If I may remind you without vanity, as I do it without a -lie, I took the lower town of the _Groyn_, I plunder’d all the villages -round about it, and by the gallantry of the _English_ cut the -_Spaniards_ to pieces for three miles together. But these were profess’d -enemies that had attempted upon our state, and by their formidable -preparations, threatned no less than our entire ruin. However, in all -the licentiousness of a conquering sword, we ravish’d no nuns; and it -had been justifiable if we had done it. We took the city of _St. -Joseph_, and tho’ there was not found one single piece of coin’d money -in it (which is a very exasperating disappointment to soldiers you know) -yet we forc’d no nunneries. Had you two, gentlemen, been there, I -presume you wou’d have eaten the children alive for mere madness and -vexation, after you had gratify’d your more unpardonable brutish lusts -upon the monasteries. Distressed damsels were heretofore the general -cause for which the heroes drew their swords: as their sex made them the -objects of our desires, so when their weakness was forc’d upon, they -became doubly the subjects of our quarrels, and by so just a claim, that -nothing but the very reproach of mankind refus’d it ’em. Your case, as I -take it (gentlemen) is far different from that, where positive orders -give licence; nay, an insurrection itself, and to lay all waste before -you; to ransack the churches, and ravish the women, to burn the houses, -and brain the sucking children; these are political rigors, that by a -present shedding of blood, saves the lives of many thousands afterwards: -this putting all to the sword, intimidates small towns for making feeble -efforts for an impossible defence; which by losing some time, and some -few men’s lives only, enrages the conquerer at last, to use the same -severity with them too, to punish their obstinacy. These are bloody -maxims of war, but necessary sometimes, therefore lawful. But you -(gentlemen) had not the least shadow of pretence for your lust or your -avarice: if these are the insolent effects of your friendship, I fear no -body will admit of your alliances, much less court them. Friendship -betray’d, is the blackest crime that is, and what so far degrades a -gentleman from the character of honour, that miracles of bravery in -sieges afterwards wou’d never wear out the blot: but as if you had -resolved to make yourselves odious, by making the fact more infamous, -they must be nuns too, forsooth, that must be constrained to your -libidinous authority. Your sacrilegious covetousness might have met with -a shadow of excuse, if your intemperance had proceeded no farther: and -indeed they must have a great deal of wit as well as goodness, that can -invent any thing like a reason to mitigate the abomination of it. You, -old commanders, you, old covetous lechers, the bane of an army, the -reproach of the best general, and of the most glorious princess. What -laurels have your lust and rapines torn from _O_----’s brows? What -honours from your _English_ arms? And what vast advantages from your own -sovereign? Had not your impious carriage made implacable enemies of -those that were not quite resolved to continue long so at all, this -summer had rais’d your princess to that pinnacle of renown and grandeur, -that none ever surpass’d, and but few ever came up to besides our -illustrious queen, of whom no man can say too much; therefore of you, -gentlemen, none can say too ill. A design so deeply laid, so cautiously -manag’d, so long conceal’d, so wisely concerted, cou’d not possibly miss -of a happy event, if your impious indignities had not constrained heaven -to blast the undertaking, to shew it was just; thus the army perished -for _David_’s having numbred the people: you went to free ’em from a -foreign dominion, to settle the right of government in the right person, -to prevent innovations, and relieve the oppress’d; in a word, to do -justice to every subject. Oh, the plausible pretext! the noble reasons -for so chargeable an expedition! yet no sooner has the justice of the -cause in general crown’d your attempts with success, but your particular -outrages pull down vengeance, and raise yourselves enemies even out of -the dust; the consciousness of your wickedness blunts the edge of your -swords, and adds new life and vigour to those whom your courage and -generosity had almost vanquish’d before. Sir _Walter Rawleigh_, my -worthy companion of arms, refused two millions of ducats, and burnt the -merchants ships at _Port Royal_, because that was his errand, and he was -as just as he was brave. Had you two but commanded there (gentlemen) the -_Spanish_ merchants had not need have made so large an offer: half the -money and ten young nuns a-piece, and you had betray’d your country. -However, we question not but in a little time, or by the next packet at -least, to hear that justice is executed upon you both to absolve the -nation, and atone for so abominable and unpardonable, so nefarious and -ungentlemen-like an action. You will find a place on the other side of -our river, that will cool your courage, by way of antiperistasis, with -wond’rous heat. - - - - - _Don_ ALPHONSO PEREZ _de_ GUSMAN, _Duke of_ Medina Sidonia, - _Admiral of the invincible_ Armada, _to Monsieur_ CHATEAU-RENAULT, - _at_ Rodondello. - - -Why this mighty concern for what cannot be avoided? Why this chagrin? -Why this _mal au cœur_? You might have fancied yourself invincible, you -might have got a sanctified pass from his holiness, it would still have -had the same catastrophe. The _English_ are hereticks, man, they value -none of these evangelical charms of a rush; their bullets have no -consideration in the world for a relique, nor their small-shot for a -chaplet. Besides, they are so well acquainted with our seas, their own -channel is hardly more familiar to them. This is but the old grudge of -88, when queen _Elizabeth_ thump’d us so about: considering all things, -I think you are come off very well. What signifies a few paultry hulks? -The plate we are sure you had prudently carried over the mountains in -1500 carts at least, an undertaking as little dream’d of, and as much -surprizing, as prince _Eugene_’s passing the _Alps_; but with this -plaguy unlucky disadvantage, that it may not be quite so true. Now and -then in my more reserved speculations, I stumbled upon that same -_Drake_, that burn’d about 100 of our ships at _Cadiz_; upon my honour I -can’t forgive him, and yet can’t blame him neither. But those two -galeons that were so richly laden, stick in my stomach most -confoundedly. No wonder our affairs prosper no better, for those same -hereticks have taken away several of our saints; that same _Drake_ I -mentioned just now, he run away with _St. Philip_. Besides this, these -_English_ water-dogs swam after us into _Cadiz_, and went to _Pointal_, -and there firk’d us so about the pig-market, that we were even glad to -save our bacon, and fire some of our ships, and run the others on -ground; there too, after burning the admiral, these unsanctifyed ranters -stole away, not sneakingly, but with an open hand, and main force, two -most glorious saints more, St. _Matthew_ and St. _Andrew_. There was -another too of those _English_ bully-rocks, Sir _Walter Rawleigh_, with -a pox to him, he serv’d us a slippery trick indeed, for he took away -the mother of God, and God knows she was worth one hundred and fifty -thousand pounds sterling, not reckoning the other smaller craft that -went with him only to bear her company. There is something in our -destinies that gives them an ascendant over us; and a brave man scorns -to buckle to fortune. You may live to be beaten again as I was, and poor -_Alphonso de Leva_, nay, honest _Recalde_, he was cursedly maul’d too -with his rear squadron; and to add to my misfortunes, I was a little -while after drubb’d again by them, I thought they never would have done -dancing round me for my part: but what consummated my disgrace, and -still leaves the deepest impression on my spirits, is the burning my -fleet at _Calais_; there I must own it sincerely to you, I was somewhat -astonished: I thought _Vesuvius_ had been floating upon the water, or -mount _Ætna_ had out of kindness come to light me thro’ the north -passage home: but this was a hellish invention of those _Englishmen_ to -set my ships on fire, and destroy us all. - -Now this similitude of our destinies having endeared you to me, I -thought my comparing our notes together might mitigate part of your -affliction. Nay, thus far we are again alike in the frowns of insulting -fortune, that they will make new medals with the old inscription, _dux -fœmina facti_. Indeed you must give me leave, Sir, to be a little free -with you, that is, to tell you for ought I know, providence may have -ordered it so, to shew that the wisdom of man is really but a chimera, -and as _Spain_, when in the highest exaltation of its glory, with a vast -fleet that was three years equipping, and consisted of no less than 130 -sail of ships, enough to have forc’d her way thro’ the universe; yet -with all this preparation, a single woman, embroil’d in her state at -home, not only made head against us, but even quite destroy’d us; -insomuch, that the kingdom of _Spain_ was never fully able to recover -the vast expence of this fleet, and the continued losses that attended -its being beaten: in like manner, Sir, what know we but that the kingdom -of _France_, being now even at the summit of glory, and by the accession -of the _Spanish_ interest, so entirely at his own devotion, may not see -all his laurels torn from his brows by a queen, and to the dishonour of -the _Salic_ law, make the greatest of all its monarchs truckle to a -woman, whom they thought incapable of reigning. I don’t say this will be -certainly so, but examining all occurrences hitherto, it looks but -scurvily upon the _Spanish_ and _French_ side. For _France_ was never so -many times, and so considerably defeated since he sat upon the throne, -and that too both by sea and land. Indeed the _English_ in these parts -grow very pragmatical upon it, and at every turn call for _a son of a -whore of a_ Spaniard _to make snuff of_. Cardinal _Granvil_, that was -the ablest head-piece of his time, avers it so positively, that I dare -not aim at a contradiction; and his opinion is, That the _English_, who -are naturally good when they are yielded to, and only obstinate and -angry when they are oppos’d, will ever be happily governed by a queen; -and he assigns this for a reason, that the monarchy of _England_ having -a great alloy of a republick, they are more jealous of their warlike -princes than of their weak ones, and least they should happen to give a -daring prince an unhappy opportunity of treading upon their necks, if -they should stoop any thing low, they will always in parliament keep him -at some distance; but as a woman cannot pretend to guide the reins of -empire by a strong hand, they must do it by a wise head; therefore not -trusting so much to her own judgment, as hot-headed man does, she does -nothing without the advice of her council; and that is a small -parliament, as a parliament is a grand national council, and this method -of government suits best with the _English_ temper: from whence I -conclude, that _England_ never was in so fair a prospect of doing -herself justice, and asserting her rights, since that miracle of a woman -queen _Elizabeth_, as it is at this juncture. For so glorious and -triumphant beginnings open all her subjects hearts, and their coffers -with them, which cannot tend but to our ruin and shame. Make haste -hither, and get out of the confusion that you cannot long defer. - - - - -MARCELLINUS _to Mons._ BOILEAU. - - -_Nay, this is beyond the possibility of patience! and tho’ there is much -due to the character of princes, yet there is more to ourselves and -truth; and I cannot without the highest injustice and ingratitude -possible, but remind you of some of the actions of your idol monarch, -which with so much reason dispute with each other, which was the most -enormous and tyrannical. I only endeavour’d to make_ Julian _the -apostate, pass upon posterity for a hero, and you call me an insolent -brazen-fac’d rascally flatterer. If I exceeded the exactness of an -historian, it was because in that treatise I set up for a courtier, and -sincerity in such people is of the most dangerous consequence -imaginable. If the emperor_ Julian _had been the first monster in -nature, that met with a willing pen to set his actions in a less -inglorious light than others expected, and naked truth required; yet I -am sure he is not the greatest. Your master has trac’d all the footsteps -of his cruelty and policy; for if he manag’d matters so swimmingly -between the catholicks and_ Arrians, _that he secur’d himself by their -divisions_, Loüis _has all along done the same: if he countenanced the_ -Jews, Loüis _supported the_ Turks, _if he destroyed the christians_, -Loüis _had done it in a much more barbarous and perfidious manner. If he -threw down the images of_ Christ _at_ Cæsarea Philippi, Loüis _has acted -the same in the front of the jesuits_[55] Church: _now since you have -dar’d to consecrate the reputation of your king, why so many bitter -invectives against me a petty_ Pagan, _for speaking in favour of my -master? you modern wits, that value your selves so much upon the having -refin’d our dross, have sunk as scandalously low in matters of flattery -as any of us. We are continually pestered here with disputes; and every -court rings with the different claims. The_ popes _send_ legates _hither -for their saints_, Pluto _won’t let one of them go, because they are -damned. Others will have it that their time is fulfilled in Purgatory, -therefore would be discharged: but the Devil knows better things, -Father_ Garnet _too, that execrable engine of the_ Powder-Plot _storms -and raves, but the horned gentlemen with cloven feet laugh at him, and -his canonization. Where was there ever so much innocent christian blood -shed as on_ Bartholomew_’s day at_ Paris? _and yet even that -unparalleled murder has been justified a thousand times by your church; -as if the accurateness of a man’s pen could make that pass for a virtue -which will be an everlasting and detestable blot_. Pelisson _is a man of -prodigious parts_, Boileau _the smoothest pen and noblest genius of his -time, because their prince is alive, and equally generous to reward -their flattery, as greedy to have it: but poor I, because I have been -dead one thousand four hundred years, and better, I am an idle rascally -fellow. But even at this distance I am no stranger to the transactions -of_ Versailles; _and since you have spit out so much of your blackest -venom against me and my hero, I shall take the freedom to call to mind -some of those very remarkable particulars which give so glorious a -lustre, as you call it, to your_ viro immortali. _His life has been one -continued series of rapines and murders, perjuries and desolations. For -tho’ the first disorders in_ Hungary, _were in some measure owing to the -injustices count_ Teckeley _received from the ministers of the empire, -yet it is undeniably true, that_ France _fomented the war, and -sollicited the_ Turk _to espouse_ Teckeley_’s quarrels, and promised to -assist him himself. The negotiations of the_ French _ambassadors at the -Port, the vast sums of money remitted to_ Teckeley, _and the endeavours -to disengage the king of_ Poland _and the duke of_ Bavaria _from the -interest of the empire; these things, Mons._ Boileau, _were not managed -with so much secrecy, but the more essential particulars are come to -many peoples knowledge. His other underhand dealings with several -princes and cities of_ Germany, _shewed his formidable army in_ Alsatia -_was not to succour the empire, but to seize on it. But the raising the -siege at_ Vienna _broke all their measures at_ Versailles, _and the king -of_ France, _confounded at his disappointment, vented his rage upon his -own subjects, and that part of them too that set the crown upon his -head, when the most considerable of the_ Roman Catholicks _abandon’d his -interest. The ravage he committed in the territories of the three -ecclesiastical electors, and in the_ Palatinate _at the same time, -shewed him rather the scourge of mankind, than the eldest son of the -church_. - -_’Tis true, there never was any prince but had his flatterers: but you_ -French _have been guilty of the grossest to the present king of_ France, -_that ever were recorded. My_ Julian _would have blush’d, or rather -trembled, at such blasphemous adulation_. Loüis _has been adored for his -mercy, and yet exceeded our_ Nero _in barbarity and bloodshed. Fire and -sword were mild executioners of his cruelty; for his impetuous lust of -mischief has been so fruitful in inventing torments, that he has made -all those forms of death desirable to his subjects that were the -reproach of tyrants: his ingenious malice has contrived exquisite pain, -without destroying the persons that suffer it; and if he could compel -man to be immortal, he would vie miseries with hell itself. He scorns -all the humble paths of_ Domitian_’s perfidiousness: such puny perjuries -are too mean for_ Loüis le Grand: _And since he could not possibly make -them greater in their nature, he aggravated them by their number. The -peace of the_ Pyreneans, _that of_ Aix la Chapelle, _that of_ Nimeguen, -_the truce for twenty years, the edict of_ Nants, _the treaty at_ -Reswick, _are sufficient arguments, that he only promised that he might -not perform; and vow’d to observe treaties that he might have the -lechery of breaking them afterwards with a more execrable guilt. Your -servile flattery stiles him the restorer and preserver of the peace of_ -Christendom, _yet he arm’d the Crescent against the Cross, and carried -desolation through every corner of_ Europe. _There is no prince but he -has invaded, no neighbour that he has not oppress’d, no law that he has -not violated, no religion that he has not trampled on, and shewed the -successors of St._ Peter, _that he had one sword sharper than both -theirs. His panegyrists have refined the impious wit of_ Commodus_’s -sycophants; and lest books should not transmit their blasphemies low -enough to posterity, they have raised superb monuments of his arrogancy -and their own shame. What statues, what pictures of him at_ Versailles, -Fountainbleau, Marly, _the_ Louvre, _the_ Invalides, Paris _gates, the_ -Palace Royal, _&c. Where have I, Mons._ Boileau, _arm’d my_ Julian _with -a [56] thunderbolt? have I any thing equal to your_ viro immortali, _to -your_ divo Ludivico? _Why then am I such an infamous flatterer, such a -sneaking cringing rascal? I have nothing comparable to your fustian -bombast, nor to the hyperboles of_ Pelisson, _nor the impertinent titles -of every_ Frenchman _that sets pen to paper. I leave the world to judge, -if my hero has not a juster claim to all the eulogies I have given him, -ten thousand times preferable to_ Loüis le Grand, _and yet you have said -ten thousand times more of him_. - - -POSTSCRIPT. - -_Just as I was dispatching this, a mail came in from_ Spain, _that gave -us an account of the king of_ France_’s having extended his dominions -over the plate-fleet; but whilst he was drinking_ Chateau-Renault_’s -health, some two or three merry_ English _boys run away with it all; -which has given_ Loüis _and his grandson such a fit of the cholick, that -they are not expected to live long under such terrible agonies: -whereupon the Devil has order’d a thousand chaldron of fresh brimstone -to air their apartments against they should come_. - - - - -CORNELIUS GALLUS _to the Lady_ DILLIANA _at_ BATH. - - -_Charming_ Dilliana, - -I shall not blush to own I have been in love, since the wisest men that -ever were yet, have found their philosophy too weak to prevent the -tyranny of the blind boy. However, though they were sensible of the -powers of beauty, yet they were all ignorant of its cause. The painter -that first drew _Cupid_ with a fillet over his eyes, did not mean that -he was blind; but that it was impossible to express their various -motions: sometimes eager desire adds new darts to their sparkling rages: -sometimes chilling fear in a minute overcasts their glittering beams; -joy drowns ’em in an unusual moisture, and irresolution gives ’em a -gentle trembling despair, sinks ’em into their orbits: jealousy -re-ascends the expiring flame: and one kind look from the person we -adore, sweetly sooths ’em up again; and it is easy to remark from their -sudden composedness the new calm and tranquillity of the mind. We may -say as much of love as of beauty, we all knew there is such a thing, -but none of us can tell what it is; ’tis not youth alone that is expos’d -to the fatal tempest of this raging passion: age itself has yielded to -its attacks; and we have seen some look gaily in their love, tho’ they -were stepping into their graves. It laughs at the most ambitious man, -and makes a monarch turn vassal to his own subjects: it makes the miser -lavish of his ador’d dust and the hoarded ore profusely scatter’d at his -charmer’s feet: nay, the poets themselves did not feign _Cupid_ so -extravagant, as many philosophers felt him: however, love is the great -springhead from whence all our felicities flow; and our condition would -be worse than that of the very beasts, if it were exempted from this -darling passion: yet it is as true too, that there is nothing upon the -earth so enormous and detestable, but love has been the occasion of it -at one time or other. That glorious emanation of divinity, the breath of -life which gave us the similitude of our Creator, is often stifled by -this raging passion, reason revolts, and joining partly with love, -proves our ruin, by justifying a thousand absurdities: and there is no -misery to which mankind may be said to be subject to, that is not caused -by love. There would be no sorrow, no fear, no desire, no despair, no -jealousy, no hatred, if there were no love. The soul becomes a restless -sea whose tumultuous waves are continually foaming, every sense is an -inlet to this violent passion: and there are but few objects which can -affect the soul, that do not give it birth: as heat produces some things -and destroys others, so love, not unlike it, is the origin of good and -evil. It may be call’d the school of honour and virtue; and yet not -improperly a theatre of horror and confusion too. - -’Tis the powerful and pleasing band of human society; without it there -would be no families, no kingdoms; and yet we read of an _Alexander_ -that sacrific’d a whole city to a smile of a mistress. _Anthony_ -disputed the world with _Cæsar_, yet chose rather to lose it than be -absent from _Cleopatra_’s arms. _David_ forgot the august character of a -man after God’s own heart, and though so famous for prowess as well as -piety, basely murther’d the injur’d _Uriah_, the more freely to enjoy -the lovely adulteress. Charming _Sempronia_, the fire is pure in itself, -’tis the matter only that sends up all those offensive clouds of smoak; -and if nature were not depraved, love would not cause these disorders: -’twou’d not mix poyson with wine to destroy a rival, and thro’ a sea of -blood and tears wade to its object. Love is the most formidable enemy a -wise man can have, and is the only passion against which he has no -defence. If anger surprise him, it lasts not long, and the same minute -concludes it as commenc’d it: If by a slower fire his choler boils, he -prevents its running over; but love steals so secretly, and so sweetly -withal; into every corner of our hearts, into every faculty of the soul, -that it is absolutely master before we can perceive it. When once we -discover it, we are quite undone: at the same time he triumphs over our -wisdom, and our reason too, and makes them both his vassals to maintain -his tyranny: what else could mean those numerous follies of the -adulterous gods descending in viler forms to commit their rapes?---- - -The first wound that beauty makes is almost insensible, and though the -deadly poison spreads through every part; we hardly suspect we are in -danger. At first indeed we are only pleas’d with seeing the person or -talking of ’em, affecting an humble complaisance for all they say, or -do, the very thinking on them is charming; and the desires we have as -yet, are so far from impetuosity, that no philosopher could be so rigid -as to condemn us. - -Hitherto ’tis well, but ’tis hardly love, for that like a bee, forfeits -its name if it has no sting. But alas! the lurking fire quickly bursts -out, and that pleasing idea which represented itself so sweetly and so -respectfully to the soul one moment before, now insolently obtrudes upon -our most serious thoughts, and makes us impious even at the horns of the -altar; she perfidiously betrays us in our very sleep itself, sometimes -appearing haughty and scornfully, sometimes yielding and kind; and this -too when there is no reason for either. The infant-passion is now become -a cruel father of all other passions; cruel indeed, for he has no sooner -given birth to one, but he stifles it to introduce another; whose -short-liv’d fate is just the same, and destroy’d the next moment it is -born. - -Hope and despair, joy and sorrow, courage and fear, continually succeed -each other; anger, jealousy, and revenge, distract the mind; and all -these mingled, their fury is like a storm blowing from every corner of -the heavens: then the lover, like the ocean, agitated by such boisterous -winds, he foams and roars, the swelling waves of his boiling appetite -dash each other to pieces, the foggy clouds of melancholy and -disappointment intercept the glittering rays of reason’s sun; the -rattling thunder of jealous rage breaks thro’ his trembling sphere, when -his understanding returns but for a moment, ’tis like darted lightning -piercing thro’ the obscure of violent passions, and shews nature in -every lover a confusion almost equal to her original chaos. - -Whoever was really in love (_charming Sempronia_) will readily confess -the allegory to be just. Tho’ nothing has surprised me more in affairs -of this nature than that most men who have been sensible of this passion -do not care to own it, when once their more indulgent fate has put a -period to it; as if it were a calling their judgment in question to -believe they thought a woman handsom. Your eyes justify our adoration, -and will ever constitute the felicity of - -_Corn. Gallus._ - - - - -_From Bully_ DAWSON _to Bully_ W---- - - -_Confound you for a monumental Sluggard_, - -I have been dead and damn’d these seven years, and left your talkative -bulkiness behind me as the only fit person in the town to succeed me in -blustring bravadoes and non-killing skirmishes; and you like a lazy -hulk, whose stupendious magnitude is full big enough to load an elephant -with lubberliness, to sot away your time in _Mongo_’s fumitory, among a -parcel of old smoak-dry’d cadators, and not so much since my departure, -as cut a link-boy over the pate, pink a hackney-coachman, or draw your -sword upon a cripple, to fill the town with new rumours of your wonted -bravery, and make the callow students of the wrangling society wag their -unfledg’d chins over their pennyworths of _Ninny Broth_? adds -fleshly-wounds, in what sheeps-head ordinary have you chew’d away the -meridian altitude of your tygerantick stomach? and where squander’d away -the tiresom minutes of your evening-leisure, over seal’d _Winchesters_ -of three-penny guzzle: that in all this time you have never exerted your -hectorian talent, but keep your reputation mustying upon an old -foundation, which is ready to sink, for want of being repair’d by some -new notable atchievements. - -Do you think the obsolete renown of cutting off a knight’s thumb in a -duel, and keeping on’t in your pocket three weeks for a tobacco-stopper; -lying with the _French_ king in your travels, and kicking him out of bed -for farting in his sleep; answering the challenge of a life-guardman for -tearing a hole in his stocking with the chape of your sword when his -jack-boots were on; gone where honour calls, behind _Southampton_ walls: -return by five, if alive, _Hen. W----n_. disarming three highwaymen -upon the road with two-pence half-penny in your pocket, and letting them -go upon their parole of honour; wearing a wig for ten years together -without losing the curl or combing out one hair; taking a tyger by the -tooth; and the _Grand seignior_ by his whiskers; bearing an ensign in a -mimick fight upon your atlantick shoulders; knocking a shiting porter -down, when you were drunk, backwards into his own sir-reverence; your -duel with _Johannes in nubibus_, in behalf of a lady you never set eyes -on; your eating five shillings-worth of meat at a nine-penny ordinary, -and at last treated by the man of the house to have no more of your -custom; do you think these, or a hundred like antiquated exploits are -sufficient to maintain the character of a stanch bully without new -enterprizes? no, an old reputation is like an old house, which if not -repaired often, must quickly fall of necessity to decay and will at -last, by little, for want of new application, be totally obliterated. - -Therefore, if ever you intend to be my rival in glory, you must fright a -bailiff once a day, stand kick and cuff once a week, challenge some -coward or other once a month, bilk your lodging once a quarter, and -cheat a taylor once a year, crow over every coxcomb you meet with, and -be sure you kick every jilt you bully into an open-legg’d submission and -a compliance of treating you; never till then will the fame of _W----n_ -ring like _Dawson_’s in every coffee-house, or be the merry subject of -every tavern tittle-tattle. - -[Illustration: _Bully Dawson in the Bilboes._ - -_Vol. II. p. 189._] - -To let you know I am not like a cock or a bull-dog to lose my courage -when I change my climate, I shall proceed to give you a very modest -account of some of my bold undertakings in these diabolical confines, -these damn’d dusky unsavory grottos, where altho’ there are whole rivers -of brimstone for the convenient dipping of card-matches, yet if a man -would give one ounce of immortality for so much of a rush-candle, ’tis -as hard to be purchas’d upon the faith of a christian, as if you were to -buy honey of a bear, or a stallion of a lascivious duchess, that wants -frication more than she does money; so that at my first entrance into -this damn’d dark cavern, I stagger’d about by guess, like some drunken -son of a whore tumbled into a _Newcastle_ cole-pit; and finding myself -in this ugly condition, I could not forbear breathing a few curses out -upon the place, which, by the lord of the territories, were thrown away -as much in vain, as if I had carried lice to _Newgate_, or wish’d the -people mad in _Bedlam_: as I thus blunder’d about like a beetle in a -hollow tree, I happen’d to break my shins against a confounded poker, -upon which I made a damnable swearing for a light, that I might see -whereabouts I was, but to no purpose; I found I might as well have -call’d upon _Jupiter_ to have lent me his hand to have dragg’d me out of -_Pluto_’s dominions. This sort of stumbling entertainment so provok’d my -patience, that tho’ I knew I was under the devil’s jurisdiction, yet I -could not tell, but like a debtor in a prison, or bully in a -bawdy-house, I might fare the better for mutinying, so that I discharg’d -such a volley of new-coin’d oaths, and made such damn’d roaring and -raving, that the devils began to fear I should put hell in an uproar; -upon this a couple of tatterdemalion hobgobblings, that look’d like a -brace of scare-crows just flown out of a pease-field, seiz’d me by the -shoulders and run me into the bilboes; confound you, said I, for a -couple of hell-cats, what’s this for? For, crys one of the grim -potentates, as saucily as a reforming constable, for your tumultuous -noisy behaviour, why sure, you don’t think you are got into a -bear-garden. Wounds, quoth I, thou talk’st as if the devil kept a -conventicle; why hell at this rate is worse than a parliament-house, if -a man mayn’t have the liberty of speech, especially when ’tis to redress -his grievances. - -Just as we were thus parlying, who should come by, but _Bob Weden_, -jabbering to him self like a jack-daw in a cherry-tree that had lost his -mate, I knew him by his hoarse voice, which sounded like the lowest note -of a double courtel: who’s there, _Bob_, said I? Captain, says he, I am -heartily glad to see you; yes, yes, I am that very drone of a bag-pipe, -you may know me by my hum; I have got my _quietus_ at last, and I thank -my stars, by the help of rum and hot weather, have bilk’d all my -_English_ creditors. Why where the devil, said I, did you die then, that -you give your creditors, the epithet of _English_? just over our head, -says he, in that damn’d country _Barbadoes_, where my brains us’d to -boil by the heat of the sun like a hasty-pudding in a sauce-pan; have -been in a sweat ever since above seven months before I died; all the -while I liv’d in that damn’d treacly colony, I fancied myself to be just -like a live grig toss’d into a frying-pan; and now death, pox on him for -a raw-head and bloody-bones, has toss’d me out of the frying-pan into -the fire. Indeed, _Bob_, said I, I could wish myself in an ice-house -heartily, for I have been in a kind of hectic fever ever since my -admittance. Zounds, says he, ’tis so hot there’s no enduring on’t; its a -country fit for nothing but a salamander to live in; if _Abednego_’s -oven had been but half so hot, if any of them had come out without -singing their garments, I’d have forsworn brandy to all eternity. Well -but, prithee captain, how came your pedestals to be in this jeopardy? I -told him the truth tho’ I was in a damn’d lying country, only for -cursing and swearing a little. Oh! says he, you must have a great care -of that for here are a parcel of whiggish devils lately climb’d into -authority, who tho’ they were the forwardest of all the infernal host, -in the rebellion against heaven, yet of late they pretend to such -demurity as to form a society for the _Regulation of Manners_, tho’ -themselves are a parcel of the wickedest spirits in all hell’s -dominions; but however, have a little patience, I have a justice of -peace hard by of my acquaintance, who tho’ he be one of their kidney as -to matter of religion, yet I know he’ll be as drunk with burn’d brandy -as a sow with hogwash; will bugger a _Succubus_ when his lust’s -predominant; and as for cursing and swearing, he’s more expert at it -than a losing gamester, and if I meet him in a merry humour, I don’t -doubt but to prevail. - -Thus _Bob_ left me for a few moments, and indeed had we been in a -brandy-shop where we had had any thing to have paid, I should have much -question’d his return; but being in a strange country, where friends are -always glad to meet one another, and being free from the predicament of -a reckoning, I had some hopes of his being as good as his word, which in -the other world all his acquaintance knew as well as my self, he was -never over careful to preserve. - -During his absence, I had little else to do but to curse the country, -and scratch my ears for want of liberty, which were terrified with the -buzzing of a parcel of fanatical souls, who swarm’d as thick as bees at -a _Hampshire_-farmers, some damning of doctor _B----ges_, others -confounding of _Timothy Cr--soe_, some raving against _Me--d_ of -_Stepney_, others cursing of _Salters-Hall_, &c. as if the ready road to -hell was to travel through _Presbytery_. - -By this time my friend _Bob_ was as good as his word, which was the -first time I ever knew him so. Well, says he, you may see I am as sure -as a _Robin_, I have got your discharge; but the justice swears, had you -been confin’d for any thing besides whoring, drinking, and swearing, you -should have been shackled and been damn’d before he’d ever have releas’d -you; but however here’s a little _Scribere cum dasho_ will set you at -liberty; upon which we call’d the constable of the ward, who, upon sight -of the discharge, freed my supporters from confinement, which was no -sooner done, but with a reciprocal joy for my happy deliverance, we -began a ramble together thro’ all the neighbouring avenues, in hopes to -meet with something that might give us a little diversion; we had not -travelled above an hundred yards, but who should we meet but the old -snarling rogue that us’d to cry _poor Jack_, with his wife after him; he -no sooner espy’d us, but attack’d us open-mouth’d after the following -manner, _Two sharpers without one penny of money in their pockets; a -couple of bullies, and both cowards, ha, ha. Now for a fool with a full -pocket, a good dinner on free-cost, a whore and a tavern, a belly-full -of wine without paying for’t, ha, ha, ha, a hackney-coach for a bilk, or -a brass-shilling, a long sword, never a shirt_, White-Fryars _i’th’ day -time, a garret at night, ha, ha, ha, ha_. Thus the old rascal run upon -us as we pass’d by him, that we were both as glad when we were out of -his reach, as a hen-peck’d cuckold that has shunn’d the hisses of that -serpent he hugs every night in his bosom. - -We had not gone twenty yards farther, scarce out of the reach of the -noisy tongue of this railing peripatetick, but we met _Bowman_ that kept -the _Dog-tavern_ in _Drury-lane_, whose first salutation was, _Pox take -you both for a couple of shammocking rascals, if it had not been for you -and such others of your company, I had been a living man to this day, -for you broke my tavern and that broke my heart. When I went off, -besides book-debts never paid, but cross’d out and forgiven, I had as -much chalk scored up in my bar, upon your account, as would have -whitened the flesh of twenty calves at_ Rumford, _or have cured half the -town of the heart-burn, that never were satisfied to this day, and as -certainly as you are both damn’d, I would arrest you here in the_ -Devil’_s name, but that ye know a foreign plea, or the statute of -limitation are pleadable in defiance of me; and that whore my wife too, -that used to open her sluice and let in an inundation of shabroons to -gratify her concupiscence, she lent her helping buttock among ye to -shove on my ruin; but if ever I catch the strumpet in these territories, -I’ll sear up the bung-hole of her filthy firkin, but I’ll reward her for -her bitching_. _Confound you, cries_ Bob, _for a cuckoldy cydermonger; -do not you know damnation pays every man’s scores, and tho’ we tick’d in -the other world for subsistence, it was not with a design to cheat you -or any body else, for we knew we should have the Devil to pay one time -or other, and now you see, like honest men, we have pawned our souls for -the whole reckoning, and so a fart for our creditors; you see we had -rather be damn’d than not to make general satisfaction, and yet you are -not satisfied. Why a man at this rate had better live in_ Newgate _to -eternity, than be thus plagued with creditors after his arse, to put him -in mind of old scores wherever he travels; besides, ’tis against the law -of humanity, for a man to be dunn’d for a domestick debt in a foreign -country. Well, gentlemen_, says he, _I find you have not forgot your old -principles; and so good by to ye_. And thus, as _old Nic_ would have -it, we got rid of our second plague. - -As we went from thence, turning down into a steep narrow lane, -irregularly pav’d with rugged flints, like the bottom of a mountain in -_North-Wales_, a damn’d greasy great fellow, with his hair thrust under -a dirty night-cap, in a dimity-wastcoat and buff-breeches, with a hugh -bucks-horn-handle-knife hanging by a silver-chain at his apron-strings, -came puffing and blowing up the hill against us, like a _crampus_ before -a storm, sweating as if he had been doing the drudgery of _Sisyphus_, -and coming near us he makes a halt, and looking me full in my face, -gives a mannerly bow, and cries, _Your servant noble captain: Friend_, -said I, _I don’t know thee. Ah! master_, said he, _time was, when you -condescended to eat many a sop in the pan in my poor kitchin; I kept the -sign of the gridiron in_ Waterlane _for many years together, but have -been damn’d, the lord help me, above these nine months, for only -cozening my customers with slink veal_. I told him I was sorry for his -condition, and hop’d I did not owe him any thing: _No, worthy master_, -says he, _not a farthing, for you never had more at a meal than a -half-penny rowl, and I always, because you were a gentleman, allow’d you -the benefit of my dripping-pan, and every time you came, you paid me for -my bread very honestly_. I did not much approve of the rogue’s memory, -so bid him farewel: but my friend _Weden_, like a bantering dog, did so -terrify my ears about my half-penny ordinary, that I had rather for the -time been flung naked into a tuft of nettles. - -As he was thus teazing me, who should we stumble upon but captain -_Swinny_ the _Irishman_; you cannot but imagine a very joyful -congratulation pass’d between us: who had been stanch friends, such old -and intimate acquaintance. No sooner was our salutation over, but we -began to enquire as we us’d to do upon earth, into one another’s -circumstances: upon which, says _Swinny, By my soul and shalvation, I -have got my good old lord here, that I us’d to procure and pimp for in -t’other world; and as he gave me money upon earth to indulge him in his -sins, and provide him whores to cool his lechery, now he’s damn’d for’t, -like a grateful master, he allows me every day a dish of snapdragons to -fetch him water from_ Styx, _to cool his entrails_. I think, says -_Bob_, you were always very careful of your lord’s health, and never -brought any thing to his embraces but unpenetrated maids, or very sound -thorn-backs. _By chriesh and shaint Patrick, ’tis very true_, says he, -_for I always made my self his taster for fear he should be poison’d, -and first took a sip of the cup to try whether the juice was good or no; -and tho’ he was as great a wencher as any was in_ England, _I’ll take my -swear, excepting the gout, he’s come as sound a nobleman into hell, as -has took leave of the other world these fifty years, and was so very -bobborous two days ago, tho’ he’s near seventy, that he bid me look out -for soft-handed she-devil to give him a little frication, and said -nothing vex’d him but that he was damn’d among a parcel of spirits, with -whom he could have no carnal copulation: well, gentlemen, I must loiter -no longer, I am travelling in haste to_ Styx _to fill my lord’s bottle, -but all won’t cool his lechery, tho’ he be turn’d a perfect aquapote so, -my dear joys, farewel_. - -We had not parted with him as many minutes a man may beget his likeness -in, but who should we meet but _Mumford_ the player, looking as pale as -a ghost, falling forward as gently as a catterpillar cross a -sicamore-leaf, gaping for a little air, like a sinner just come out of -the powdering tub, crying out as he crept towards us, _Oh my back! -confound ’em for a pack of brimstones: Oh my back!_ how now, Sir -_Courtly_, said I, what the devil makes thee in this pickle? Oh, -_gentlemen_, says he, I am glad to see you, but I am troubled with such -a weakness in my back, that it makes me bend like a superannuated -fornicator: some strain, said I, got in the other world with overheaving -your self. What’s matter how ’twas got, says he, can you tell me any -thing that’s good for’t? yes, said I, get a good warm _Girdle_ and tie -round you, ’tis an excellent corroboratick to strengthen the loins; pox -on you, says he, for a bantering dog how can a single girdle do me good, -when a _Brace_ was my destruction? I think, said I, you did die a martyr -for a pair of penetrable whiskers, fell a bleeding sacrifice to a cloven -tuft, that was glad, I believe, of your going out of the other world, as -old _Nic_ was of your coming into this, for I hear you kept the poor -titmouse under such slavish subjection, that a peer of the realm, -notwithstanding his honour, could not so much as come in to be -brother-starling with you. Nay, some say you put an _Italian_ security -upon’t, purposely to indict any body for felony and burglary that should -break open the lock. Pox confound you, says he, for a lyar, how can that -be, when half the pit knows they had egress and regress when they -pleas’d without any manner of obstruction? but tattling here won’t do my -business, I must seek out _Needham_, _Lower_, or some other famous -physician that may give me ease; so gentlemen, adieu to ye. - -We had not gone much farther, but at the corner of a dirty lane we found -a wondrous throng of attentive scoundrels, serenaded by a couple of -ballad-singers, who stood in the middle of the tatter’d audience, with -their hands under their ears, singing, _With a rub, rub, rub, rub, rub, -rub, in and out, in and out ho_: who should come limping by just in the -interim, but Mr. _Dryden_ the poet: there’s a delicious song for you, -gentlemen, says he, there are luscious words wrapt up in clean linen for -you; tho’ there is a very bawdy mystery in them, yet they are so -intelligibly express’d, that a girl of ten years old may understand the -meaning of them; my lord _Rochester_’s songs are mine arse to it: well -my dear _Love for Love_, thou deservest to be poet laureat, were it only -for the composure of this seraphick ditty, ’tis enough to put musick -into the tail of an old woman of fourscore, and make a girl of fourteen -to be as knowing in her own thoughts, as her parents that got her; oh, -’tis a song of wonderful instruction, of incomparable modesty, -considering its meaning. Who should come puffing into the crowd in -abundance of haste, with a face as red as a new pantile, but _Nat Lee_? -Hark you, _Nat_, says _Dryden_, did you ever here such a feeling ballad -in your life before? egad, the words steal so cunningly into ones veins, -that nature will scarce be pacified till she has dropt some loose corns -into one’s breeches. Foh, you old lecherous beast, says _Nat Lee_, -here’s a song indeed for a poet-bays of your gravity to admire! I have -heard twenty better under _White-Fryars_ gate-way. You’re a mad man, -says _Dryden_, you never understood a song in your life, nor any thing -else, but jumbling the gods about, as if they were so many tapsters in a -lumber-house. I’ll sing you a song, says _Lee_, worth fifty on’t that I -made when I was in _Bedlam_, to be sung in my play, that had five and -twenty acts in’t; now pray observe me, and your self shall be judge. - - _The gods on a day when their worships were idle,_ - _Met all at the sign of the_ half-moon _and_ fiddle; - _Old_ Bacchus _and_ Venus _did lovingly joyn,_ - _And swore there was nothing like women and wine:_ - _They drank till they all were as merry as grigs,_ - _And wallowed about like a litter of pigs;_ - _Till their heads and their tails were so little apart,_ - _the breath of a belch, mix’d with that of a fart;_ - _But as it fell out, poor unfortunate_ Mars, - _Just nodded his nose into_ Venus’_s arse;_ - _Why how now, says_ Mars, _ye old jade, d’y’ suppose,_ - _Your arse was design’d as a case for my nose?_ - _Then pulling his head from her bumb, fell a swearing,_ - _Her honour smelt worse than a stinking red-herring_, - -Well, says Mr. _Lee_, after he had ended his ditty, what think you now, -Mr. _Dryden_? Think, says he, what should I think? I think there is more -pretty tickling sort of wit in the very _chorus_ of the other, than -there is in all your piece of frantick trumpery. Thus we leave them -squabbling together, which song should have the preference, and so stept -forward. - -We had not jogg’d on above a quarter of a mile further, but a parcel of -spirits in the shape of screech-owls came hovering over our heads, -crying out, _Make room, make room, for the chief pastor of the flock -will be here to night_. Think we, here’s some great guest or other a -coming; for my part I thought nothing less than an archbishop of -_C-n----y_: my friend _Bob_ was much of my opinion, and cry’d, there -was some fat priest coming in to pay his garnish, but who should it -prove at last but a dissenting doctor, trick’d up in a band and cloak, -and all the factious ornaments becoming a squeamish conscience, attended -with abundance of bald crowns and gray hairs, who came hobbling after -him like the old men of the _Charter-house_, behind their chaplain to -eleven a-clock prayers. My friend _Bob_ and I having both a curiosity to -know what _Don Prattlebox_ it was, enquir’d of a devil who had a -discerning countenance, if he knew who this new comer was? He answer’d -us ’twas doctor _Ma--th--w T--y--r_ of _Salters-hall_, and those that -attend him were some of his congregation, who were come in order to take -up lodgings for the rest, who would not be long after: Adsheart, says -_Bob_, they are the most faithful flock in the universe, for if their -shepherd comes to the devil, I see they will be sure to follow him, -whilst the churchmen are such a parcel of straying sheep, that tho’ -their guides go to heaven themselves, they can perswade but very few of -their congregation to bear them company. - -The next person that we met with as we were rambling about, was _Harry -Care_, the whiggish pamphleteer, who was stuff’d all over with papers as -thick as a buttock of beef with parsley, and coming near us, he ask’d -how long we had been in? Sir, said I, we are both but lately come from -the other world: pray gentlemen, says he, can you tell me how my old -friend Sir _Roger l’Estrange_ does, and whether you hear any thing of -his coming into these parts, for I am at a great loss for some body to -exercise my talent with? I left him very well, said I, but when he takes -leave of the upper world, whether he goes up hill or down hill to -eternity I can’t inform you. Sir, says he, your humble servant; and away -he troop’d and left us without further impertinence. - -As we were passing by the door of a little brandy-shop, who should be -sitting upon an old worm-eaten bench, but _Sam Scott_ the Fiddle-seller, -and _Will. Elder_ the graver, each with a huge _Dutch_ pipe of infernal -mundungus in their mouths smoaking for two penny-worth of -anniseed-water. _Sam. Scott_ had one while got the start of him, which -_Will Elder_ perceiving, exercised his lungs so very strenuously, that -he overtook him at the last whiff, which they discharg’d with such -remarkable exactness, that none of the standers by could undertake to -decide the wager: when their pipes were out, we saluted one another with -abundance of friendship, and _Sam. Scott_ having an ascendency over the -house, invited us to take part of a bowl of punch, and just as we were -stepping in, who should come by but _O----n P----ce_ that dy’d drunk -at the _Dog_-tavern in the company of my friend _Weden_: mighty joyful -we were to meet thus fortunately together; and to crown the happy -juncture with an hour’s mirth, we stept into the little conveniency, -every soul seating himself upon an empty rundlet like a godson of -_Bacchus_, in order to receive the promis’d blessing: by that time we -had every one ramm’d a full charge of sot-weed into our infernal guns, -in order to fumify our immortalities, the scull of _Goliah_ was brought -in for a punch-bowl fill’d with such incomparable _Heliconian_ juice, -that six drops of it would make a man a better poet than either -_Shakespear_ or _Ben. Johnson_: by that time a cup or two were gone -about to _Pluto_ and my lady _Proserpine_, we began to fall into a merry -inquisition about one another’s damnation: prithee _Sam. Scott_, said I, -what the devil were you damn’d for? why, I’ll tell you, says _Sam_. I -was found guilty of a couple of indictments, one was for consuming 975 -papers of tobacco in six months, without any assistance, to the -poisoning of many a ptisicky citizen about _Temple-bar_; and the other -was smoaking my dog to death without any provocation. Come, _Bob -Weeden_, said I ’tis your turn next, let us go round with it, prithee -what charge did the hellish informers bring against you? To tell you the -truth, says he, they prov’d me guilty of two great crimes too, one was -for dealing by my friends very knavishly: and the other was for living -by my wits very foolishly. Come, captain _Dawson_, says the company, -what sort of conviction are you under? as for my part, _gentlemen_, said -he, the chief thing that condemn’d me, was the sin of forgetfulness; -’twas only for bilking my lodging, and being so careless to leave my -perriwig-come behind me. Well, neighbour _P----ce_, said I, what was it -brought you into these territories? ’twas for living like a rake, says -he, without money, and dying drunk in a tavern with twelve shillings in -my pocket. _Will. Elder_ being the last, we summ’d up our enquiry with -his confession; truly says he, mine was a very great fault I must -acknowledge, no less than the damnable sin of omission: you must know, -_gentlemen_, the chief of my business was to grave the _Lord’s-Prayer_ -within the compass of a silver penny; but to tell you the truth, I never -thought of it but when I was at work, since my eyes were open, and ’tis -chiefly for that neglect I suffer this confinement. - -Well, says _Bob Weeden_, for my part, now I have got a bowl of Punch -before me, and such good company, I would not give a nitt out of my -shirt-collar to return back to my old quarters upon earth, for that was -but a life full of extreams, and this can be no other; for there I was -always very drunk or very drowsy, surfeited or very hungry, generally -very poor and very pocky, afraid to walk the streets, and no money to -keep me within doors; thought very witty by fools, and by wise men very -wicked, was every body’s jester that wanted wit, and a blockhead to all -those that had it; dunn’d every where, and trusted no where; car’d not -for any body, and belov’d by no body: and what station on this side -death can be worse than such a miserable life? What signifies a little -hot weather, when a man’s assur’d it can’t endanger his health; nothing -can be subject to sickness but what is liable to death, and that period, -immortality is free from. Come then said I, if it be so, here’s a bumper -in memory of the cellar at the _Still_, and honest _Jack Ni----ls_ the -harper, count _C----ni----s_, captain _Wa-k-er_, and all the jolly -lads of our loving acquaintance, with a huzza. In this manner we spent -the evening as merrily as so many tars under the tropicks, over their -forfeitures, till at last we had the devil to pay with empty pockets: -but _Sam Scott_, who was the undertaker of the treat, having made his -coffin into a bass-viol, gave my landlady a lesson, two or three kisses, -and a few fair words, and prevailed with her to trust him for the -reckoning; so being all saluted with you’re welcome gentlemen, we all -arose like a company of coopers from our tubs and our rundlets, and went -away hooping for more liquor. - -These are all the remarkable passages that at present I think worth -transmitting to you: so, hoping you will requite me after the like -manner with something that may be entertaining to a gentleman under my -warm circumstances; if it be an essay upon ice, or a treatise of the -sovereign efficacy of rock-water, it will be a very cooling satisfaction -to your parboil’d friend, - -DAWSON. - - - - -_Mr._ HENRY W----’_s Answer to Bully_ DAWSON. - - -_Noble Captain and Commander in Chief of all the Cowards in -Christendom._ - -If being smoak’d-dry’d up a chimney, like a flitch of bacon, thro’ fear -of bayliffs, being kick’d thro’ the whole town by every coxcomb, being -pox’d by every whore, and dunn’d by every scoundrel, starving, lousing, -begging, borrowing, bullying, and all the plagues of human life, would -never mend your manners upon earth, I have little reason to believe the -strict discipline of hell can make any reformation in so incorrigible a -libertine; what reason have I ever given you to affront a poet? A -gentleman of the law, a member of an inn of _Chancery_, an officer in -the trained-bands, a man of invention, known courage, worth and -integrity; a gentleman of my stature, figure, and parts, that am able to -crush a thousand such nitts as thou art under my thumb-nail: ’tis well -known to the world, I have fought many duels with success, writ many -lampoons with applause, manag’d many causes to my clients satisfaction, -told many a pleasant story to the benefit of coffee-houses, flirted out -many a jest to the delight of my companions, march’d out often to the -credit of St. _Clement_’s trained-bands, when I have been the only -wonder of all the little boys that followed us, who, to the pleasure of -my own ears, have cry’d aloud, there goes a tall ensign, there’s a -swanking fellow for you between the two blunderbusses; there’s a -_Goliah_, says the men; there’s a strong-back’d _Sampson_, says the -women: And shall I, because I have been guilty of two or three little -slips, which no man is exempt from, be put in mind of ’em, by such an -arrogant crackfart as thou art: I tell thee, bully, if thou wer’t but to -be found upon earth, I would grind thee in a paper-mill for thy -insolence, till I had made bumfodder of thee: but however, since charity -obliges every good christian to forgive a man when he is dead, I shall -pass by your affront, and take no more notice of it for the future; but -upon the word of a man of honour, had you been living, I would no more -have forgiven you, than I would have gone one day without a dinner if I -had but one book in my library; therefore all things shall be forgotten, -tho’ you have deserv’d the contrary. And since you have obliged me with -a short journal of your transactions on the other side _Styx_, I think -myself oblig’d in honour to make a return of your civility after the -like manner, for the world knows me to be a man of a forgiving temper, -and I scorn by bearing malice, or studying revenge, to forfeit my -character. - -I happen’d the other night in company with some men of honour, brave -fellows, who were a little nice in their conversation, as well as their -wine, that try’d every word that was spoke by the touch-stone of good -manners, and one of them happening to say he was a lieutenant on board -one of his majesty’s small frigats, when so violent a storm rose upon -the coast of _Ireland_, that a monumental sea washing over the topmast -head, by the very pressure of its weight sunk the vessel to the bottom -of the ocean, which gave such a prodigious knock against the sand with -her keel, that the very rebound, being a tight ship, sent her up again -to the surface, without damage; and that by a watch of _Tompion_’s, -which he had in his pocket, they were three quarters of an hour and some -odd minutes in this dangerous expedition, that is, in going down and -coming up again. Lord Sir, says I, how did you breathe all that while? -Zoons, Sir, says he, ’tis an affront to ask a gentleman such a question, -and I demand satisfaction? am I bound to tell every blockhead how many -times I fetch my breath in three quarters of an hour? Nay, Sir, said I, -if you are for that sport, have at you, I’m a man of honour, and dare -wait upon you any where; with that he whisper’d me to go down stairs, -which we both did accordingly, and drawing at the door, the first pass I -made was a home thrust (for I never love to dally in such cases) and I -run him thro’ the centre of the fifth jubilee button of his coat, and -just scratch’d him in the breast, upon which he dropp’d his sword, -believing I had kill’d him; but I taking up the fallen weapon, stepp’d -to him and unbrac’d him, found he was more afraid than hurt; and that it -was but a small prick that signified nothing: Now, pray Sir, said I, how -did you breathe, I think I may make bold to ask you? I’ll tell you, Sir, -said he, I took in the water at my mouth, just as a fish does, but -having no gills to give it vent, I let it out of my fundament. Upon -which answer, I was well satisfy’d, gave him his sword, and we became as -great friends as the devil and the earl of _Kent_. - -Another duel I had since that, (for you must know challenges come thick -and threefold upon me, like actions upon a breaking shop-keeper) which I -hope for its singularity, will prove a little entertaining to you; I -happened lately to be invited to a gentleman’s chamber in _Grays-Inn_, -to drink part of a bowl of punch; accordingly I went, and was very -plentifully entertained among some other gentlemen of my acquaintance, -with a capacious vessel of this most noble _Diapente_, insomuch, that we -were all elevated above the use of our legs, as well as our reason. The -gentleman that gave us the entertainment, by the assistance of his man, -made a shift to get to bed about twelve at night, but the rest lay up -and down in the corners of the room, snoaring like so many gorg’d swine, -and battening in their own snivel, which tobacco had drain’d from their -moist entrails: I guarded the garrison of good liquor the very last man, -and maintain’d my post at the table like a true _English_ hero, till -between _Bacchus_ and _Morpheus_, like the rest of my companions, I was -lull’d into a lethargy, and falling forward in my chair upon the table, -my forehead happen’d to take the edge of the punch bowl, and turn’d it -clear over my head, that it served me for a night-cap, my nose being -drowned in the remains of the punch; every time I drew up my breath, up -went a spoonful, so that in a little time my nostrils were syring’d as -clean as a lady’s honour by noon, that has drank two quarts of _Epsom_ -waters for her mornings draught: but after some time being almost -suffocated, nature finding itself oppress’d, gave me a jog, and wak’d me -out of this drunken slumber. I had not scratch’d my ears, and rubb’d my -eyes above three minutes, but awakes another; O lord! says he, that a -man should lead this wicked life, to be married but a fortnight and play -these tricks, my wife will think I am a whoring already, or plague -herself with some damn’d whimsy or other. By this time a third awakes, -starts up like a ghost out of a grave, crying, A little drink for the -Lord’s sake, for I am - -[Illustration] - -as drowsy as if I had been dry’d in an oven all night, and with that -whips up the punch-bowl to his head, and drinks off the rincings of my -nostrils as heartily as if it had been sherbet made on purpose for a -cooler, and by the way, ever since that time has found such an -alteration in his faculties, that from a very dull fellow he is become -an absolute wit, to the admiration of all that knew him, tho’ I never -durst tell him it was from the dripping of my brains that he deriv’d his -ingenuity. But to be short in my story, when I was thoroughly awak’d, I -began to have a wambling in my stomach, as if I had supp’d over night -with a mountebank’s toad-eater, the chamber-pot being full, I was -unwilling to defile the room, and before I was aware, let fly into my -_lignum-vitæ_ night-cap, and being then pretty well at ease, I open’d -the chamber door, and stagger’d homewards; at the end of _Turnstile_ I -happen’d to make a trip at a drunkard’s enemy, a stump, and down I -tumbled; who should come by before I could get up again, but the -constable going his rounds, who quickly made me the centre of a circle -of jack of lanthorns, and seeing me grovelling on the ground, did not -know but some body had mischiev’d me, upon which they ask’d me if I was -wounded? Yes said I, sadly cut. Where, where, Sir, cries the watchmen? I -reply’d, about the head; they cry’d out, who did it, who did it! punch, -punch, said I; one of the watchmen being a fat short fellow, they us’d -to call him punch, by my soul, Sir, said he to the constable, I never -saw the gentleman all the night before, and with that they haul’d me up, -and perceiving their mistake, two of them, like honest fellows, handed -me home to my chambers, without so much as stealing my hat, or picking -my pockets, which was a wonder: I had not been many hours in bed, but -comes the footman of the gentleman who entertain’d us, to my door with a -challenge, for affronting him for his civility, by spewing into his -punch-bowl. I sent him word I would not fail to meet him at the time and -place appointed, God willing; so put on a clean shirt, and equipp’d -myself for the adventure. But considering I had a man of fortitude to -deal with, and one that would face any thing upon earth, except a cat, -which he hated much more than he did the sight of the devil; I -therefore thought policy beyond strength against such an adversary, so -resolv’d to set my wits to work to prevent bloodshed, and fortunately -having a cat in my chamber that had not kitten’d above a week? I took -the whole progeny out of the nest, which consisted of half a dozen, puts -three into one coat-pocket, and three into t’other, and away I march’d -behind _Southampton-wall_ to meet my antagonist; where I waited but a -few minutes e’er he approach’d the place in a great fury; I argued the -matter reasonably with him, but found nothing would atone for the -affront but downright fighting, so steping a few paces back, he gave me -the word and draws. I instead of applying my hands to my sword, apply’d -them to my safer ammunition the kittens, and fortifies each fist with a -young Mrs. _Evans_; I grip’d ’em hard to make ’em mew, that the onset -might be the more terrible; no sooner did he set his eyes upon his -little squawling adversaries, but away he scower’d, as if a legion of -devils had been in pursuit of him. I after him, tossing now and then one -of my hand-granadoes at him, but took care to pick them up again, lest -my ammunition should be spent. Who should follow me into the fields at a -distance by the scent, but the old one, in quest of her young, who by -this time came up with us, and seeing her hopeful issue thus terribly -abus’d, she flew about like a fury; at first he only travers’d his -ground at a little distance, but when he saw the mother of the family -come cocking her tail, whetting her talons, and staring worse than a -dead pig, he ran outright to _Totnam-Court_, as if vengeance had pursued -him, took sanctuary at _Inman_’s, since which retreat I have not yet -seen him; but for self-preservation, which you know is nature’s law, I -have ever since walk’d arm’d with a brace of kittens in my pocket, for -fear of farther danger. - -These are late testimonials of my courage, to let you see I dare yet -meet any body upon the old killing spot, tho’ he be a better man than -myself, and what is wanting in courage, I can supply with policy at any -time: therefore consider how much you wrong me when you accuse me of -idleness, since my prowess is sufficiently shewn in every days -adventure. - -So much for my courage, and now for a few certificates of my wit, for -which the world, as well as yourself, knows I am equally famous: I -happen’d the other day to be at _Nando_’s coffee-house in company with a -person, who was exclaiming heavily against a weaver of whores hair for -cheating him in a wig. Sir, said I, next time you have occasion for a -new noddle-case, if you please, I’ll recommend you to the honestest -perriwig maker in _Christendom_; I bought this wig on my head of him, it -cost me but fifteen shillings, and I have wore it _de die in diem_ these -nine years and upwards, and you see it’s not yet dwindled into -scandalous circumstances; and, Sir, if you please I’ll tell you for what -reason he can afford better penny-worths than the rest of the trade; in -the first place, you must know he dwells at _Chelmsford_ in _Essex_, and -the country you are sensible admits of cheap living; in the next place, -he has nineteen daughters in his family, all bred up to his own trade, -who being kept unmarried, that their radical moisture should by no means -be exhausted, their own hair grows so prodigiously fast that it keeps -them all employ’d from the first day of _January_, to the last of -_December_, setting aside holy-days; once in four years he mows the -family round, never failing of a very plentiful crop; much about this -time I reckon his harvest is ripe, and all the neighbouring gentlemen -are flocking in to bespeak their perriwigs; some are fair girls, some -brown, some black, so that he can mix up a colour to suit any -complexion. And is this true, Sir, says the young priest? true, Sir, -said I, I hope you don’t think me so little of a christian to impose -upon a scholar, a gentleman of your function: ’tis so true, Sir, that it -brings a great trade to the town, and every body knows that _Essex_, for -_Chelmsford_ wigs, and _Rumford_ calves, out-does all the counties in -_England_. Say you so, says the _Levite_, I am come up to town about a -little business that will require my attendance about a fortnight, and -having a horse that has nothing else to do, I’ll e’en make a journey -thither to morrow, and try if I can chaffer. Sir, said I, there is not -such hair in the kingdom of _England_, as in his family, for they are -all virtuous girls, and that makes their hair the stronger; besides, all -the clergy round him are his customers, because he makes up his wigs -without any mixture of whores hair; for as contagious fumes we are -sensible will corrupt the body, who knows but the effluvias emitted from -the locks of a polluted woman, hanging so near the noftrils may be -suck’d in, to the strengthning of loose inclinations, and may beget an -appetite to fornication, too rebellious and powerful for reason to curb -into an orderly subjection. Well, says the young doctor, I’ll have one -of the wigs to carry into the country with me and please the pigs; at -_Chelmsford_ you say? yes, Sir, at _Chelmsford_ said I, the least child -in in the town knows him; ask but for the Barber and his nineteen -daughters, and you cannot miss of him. - -Having thus laid the scene, I took my leave, and adjourn’d about the -business of the day, and coming from _Montague_’s shop three or four -days afterwards, I stepp’d into the same coffee-house, where I happen’d -to meet with the spiritual pastor just coming to town, who had been -erring and straying like a lost sheep in quest of _Tonsor in nubibus_. -As soon as ever he set eyes upon me, he attack’d me tooth and nail, with -as much fury as if I had been brother to the _Whore of Baylon_, and told -me I was some _Papist_, or otherwise a _Fanatick_, or else I would have -had more religion in me, than to have made a fool of a man of his -function, for that he had taken a journey on purpose to _Chelmsford_, -and could find no such barber. Pray, Sir, said I, don’t be so angry, for -since I never gave ear to your preaching, why should you listen to my -prating? and since you make fools of a whole parish every sunday, how -can you be so angry with a man to make a fool of you once in his life -time? so turn’d my back, and left the whole company to laugh at him. - -You must know I love dearly to put a jest upon a priest, because it was -always my opinion, they put more jests upon the world than any people; -besides, any body may put a trick upon a block-head, but that conduces -but little to a man’s reputation. I love to put my jokes upon men of -parts, that the world may see I can bite the biter; nothing carries the -burthen of another man’s wit with a greater grace, than a sacerdotal -dromedary; therefore to let you see the wonderful regard I bear to -religion, I have one story, or piece of wit more to entertain you with, -that I hope may further divert you. - -I chanc’d to be in company with a parcel of grave sermon-hunters, and -among a long catalogue of reverend orators, whose name should bring up -the rear of the eminent _Black-List_, but my honest neighbour the -dean’s? I took not their flattery for my example, but gave my tongue the -liberty to speak as I thought, and said, he was a learned blockhead; -some of my good friends had the civility to report my saying to him. -Upon which, he sent the reader of the parish to admonish me, who came -one morning very solemnly to my chamber, and took upon him to tell me -how dishonourably and unchristian-like I had done, in aspersing the -doctor with the calumny of being a learned blockhead. Truly, Sir, said -I, I am sorry I should be so unmannerly to express my sentiments so -freely: but however, since it is done and can’t be help’d, I desire you -will go back and tell him it’s more than I can say by you, for thou art -a blockhead without any learning at all, and a fit man to be sent upon -such errands. Upon this answer he lugg’d his hat over his eyes, and ran -away as sullen and as silent as the devil pinch’d by the nose did from -St. _Dunstan_, when the old gentleman had loosen’d his barnacles. - -Now for a piece of my poetry to let you see my talent is universal, and -then I believe I shall have quitted scores with you. In a hot sunshine -day this summer, when the sun was climb’d to his meridian heighth, and -the progeny of every cow-turd had taken wing, and were buzzing about -streets in search of cooks shops, sugarbakers, and grocers, that a man -cou’d not walk _London_-streets without having his nose persecuted by -gnats, wasps or blue-bottles, my stomach, which is generally as forward -without sustenance at that hour, as a hungry sucking child without the -bubby, would not let me be at rest till I had purchased its pacification -at the expence of nine-pence; in order to gratify the cormorant, I -stepp’d into a cook’s shop where a six-penny slice of veal was brought -me, so garnish’d with fly-blows, that there lay a whole covey of the -little embroys upon every morsel, that I had more picking work than a -surgeon has with a patient whose buttocks are pepper’d with small shot, -which put me in such a poetick fury, by that time I had half swallowed -up my noonings, that I pluck’d out my pen and ink, and whilst my fancy -was warm writ a satire against _Fly-Blows_, wherein perhaps you may -find as much wit and ill nature mix’d artfully together as you may in -that incomparable satire, _The True-born Englishman_; so pray read and -judge favourably. - - -A Satire against _Fly-Blows_. By Mr. _W_---- - - _Ye worst of vermin that our isle affords,_ - _Spawn of curs’d flies, engender’d first in t--rds_ - _Ye nitty off-spring of a winged plague,_ - _That swarms in mutton from the rump to th’ craig:_ - _Tormentors of our cooks, all_ England’s _foes,_ - _From rural gluttons, to our_ London _beaus._ - _In ev’ry cloven joint thy mother’s blow,_ - _Where if not crush’d, you will to maggots grow,_ - _Raise your black heads, and crawl about our food,_ - _And poison what was eatable and good;_ - _Pollute that flesh which should our lives maintain,_ - _To dogs condemn what was design’d for man._ - _Ye eggs of mischief that in clusters dwell,_ - _Hateful to the eyes and nauseous to the smell,_ - _Ill omens of a worse succeeding harm,_ - _That makes good housewives blush, the husbands storm._ - _For thee the faultless cook-maid bears the blame,_ - _More salt, you slattern, crys the angry dame,_ - _And then the falchion-ladle goes to work:_ - _I’ll teach you, jade, to salt the beef and pork._ - _May showers of brine each powdering-tub o’erflow,_ - _Pepper and salt in every orchard grow;_ - _Then may each hand to seas’ning be employ’d,_ - _That thy curs’d race may be at once destroy’d._ - -I’ll assure you, _Captain_, these verses are highly in esteem among all -dealers in flesh, I have had many a dinner for a copy of them, to be put -into a gilt frame, and hung up in a cook’s shop to give people a -concocting laugh after dinner, that their victuals mayn’t lie heavy upon -their stomachs. By this time I believe I have pretty well tir’d your -patience, so think it full time to conclude myself, - -_Your Humble Servant_, - -W---- - - - - -_From_ NELL GWIN _to_ PEG HUGHES. - - -_Sister Peg_, - -Of all the concubines in christendom, that ever were happy in so kind a -keeper, none sure ever squandered away the fruits of her labour so -indiscreetly as yourself; whoring and gaming I acknowledge are two very -serviceable vices in a common-wealth, because they make money circulate; -but for a woman that has enrich’d herself by the one, to impoverish -herself by the other, is so great a fault, that a harlot deserves -correction for. Some people may think copulation a very easy and -delightful way of getting money, but they are much mistaken, for the -pains, you know as well as myself, which we take to please our -benefactors, destroy our own pleasure, and make it become a toil we are -forc’d to sweat at. Then who, but you, that had acquired such plentiful -possessions by the labour of her bum, and sweat of her brows, would have -tossed away thousands in a night upon the chance of a card, or fate of a -die, as if you believed your honour was an _Indian_ mine, which would -furnish you with gold to eternity for the trouble of digging: but now, -Madam, you find yourself mistaken, for those crows-feet that have laid -hold of the corners of your eyes, and wrinkly age, that in spight of -art, supplies the places of your absent charms, fright away the amorous -and the generous from your experienc’d embraces: besides, women, I hear, -are so plentiful upon earth, that a lady of our quality, must be the -true copy of an angel in appearance, whose favours shall be thought -worth meat, drink, washing, lodging, and cloaths; so that a pretty woman -now a-days may make a slave of her bumfiddle for thirty years together, -and not get money enough to keep her out of an hospital, or an -alms-house at the age of fifty. I, you see, thro’ the whole course of my -life, maintain’d my post, and as I was mistress to a king, liv’d as -great as a duchess to my last minute; and you, like an extravagant -concubine, to game away an estate, in few years, large enough to have -maintain’d a score of younger brothers listed into your ladyship’s -service, who would have drudg’d to oblige you as much as you did to -delight the good old gentleman that gave it to you; fie upon’t, I am -asham’d to think, that a woman who had wit enough to tickle a prince out -of so fine an estate, should at last prove such a fool as to be bubbled -of it by a little spotted ivory and painted paper; if that mouth could -have spoke that had labour’d hard to earn the penny, and miser-like was -always gaping for more riches, sure it would have scolded at your -profuse hands, for flinging away that estate so fast which they had but -a small share in getting of, but indeed it is not fit the silent beard -should know how much it has been abus’d by the other parts of the body, -for if it did, it would be enough to put it into a pouting condition, -and make it open its sluice to the drowning of the low-countries in an -inundation of salt-water. I would advise you, Madam, with the small -remains of your squander’d fortune, to go into a nunnery, turn _Roman -Catholick_, which is the best religion in the universe, (for ladies of -your occupation, grow wonderful pious, and make a virtue of necessity) -and there remain till death, as a living testimony of the truth of the -old proverb, (_viz_) _That what is got over the devil’s back, is spent -under his belly_: which is all the consolation you deserve from your -sister in iniquity, - -NELL GWIN. - - - - -PEG HUGHES’_s Answer to_ NELL GWIN. - - -_Madam_, - -I am sorry a mistress of a king should degenerate so much from that -generosity which was always applauded as a virtue in us ladies, who, -like the industrious beaver, do our business with our tails; for a woman -of my quality to value money, looks mean and mercenary, and is becoming -no body but an unmerciful miser, or a common strumpet; should I have -plac’d an esteem upon the riches that was left me, the world might have -suppos’d it was for the greediness of gain, that made me yield my -favours; and what had I been better than Madam _James_, or Mrs. _Knight_ -of _Drury-lane_; had I expos’d my honour for the lucre of base coin, and -sinned on for the sake only of advantage. Beauty’s the reward of great -actions, and I generously bestow’d mine upon a prince that deserv’d it, -abstractly from the thoughts of interest, but rather to shew my -gratitude, in return of his noble passion for me; and since he had made -me the object of his affections, I resolved thro’ the true principle of -love to surrender the ultimate of my charms to make him happy: my -embraces was all he wanted, and the utmost I could give, and if a prince -would submit to take up with a player, I think on my side there was -honour enough, without interest, to induce me to a compliance. I know I -am old and past recovering an impair’d fortune, after the same manner -that I first got it; but then consider what a small matter is sufficient -to keep a superanuated grannum, past the pleasures of this life; warm -cloathing and a few sugar-sops, what else can an old woman want, that is -fit for nothing but to mumble over her prayers, or sit nodding in a -chimney-corner like an old cat, when her company becomes as nauseous to -all that are younger than herself, as a sober divine is to a prophane -libertine? What conversation need she have besides one maid to exercise -her lungs upon, and keep life’s bellows open? I am so far from repenting -the loss of my estate, that I look upon’t my glory, and the only piece -of carelesness I ever committed worth my boasting. It’s a pleasure to me -to behold the vicissitude of fortune, and see her snatch that out of my -hand, which before she had dropped into my mouth; besides, without a -taste of poverty there can be no true repentance, for I always observe, -affliction goes a great way in making a good christian. I have said my -prayers within these few months, as heartily as ever I neglected ’em, -and am often-times pleas’d I am grown poor, because it makes me the more -pious: every fifty guineas I now lose, makes me when I come home, read a -chapter in _Job_, and take his patience for my own example. The gold -that I thus fling away, puts me in mind how sinfully it was got, and to -that cause I ascribe the badness of my fortune. To be rich and godly, I -have found very difficult, but to be needy and religious, is the easiest -thing in the world, which inclines me to believe poverty and piety, are -as great companions as impudence and ignorance, or love and jealousy; so -that when I have lost all, perhaps I may take care to save myself, -which will be much better, than like you to be damn’d with a full -pocket. It often makes me laugh to see hungry quality, craving -courtiers, as insatiate as the barren womb, how industrious they are to -add to their own estates by the ruin of an old fornicatrix, who can part -with her money as freely at one sport as she got it at another, and -therefore desires you will rest but as quietly under your damnation, as -she does under her losses, and she believes you will find yourself much -easier: So, - -_Farewel_. - - - - -_From_ HUGH PETERS _to_ DANIEL BURGESS _in_ Rogue-lane. - - -_Most Reverend Brother in iniquity_, - -If you don’t remember of your own knowledge, you can’t but have heard -from some of our grisly historians, that in the late times of confusion, -when the pious scoundrels of _England_ arose with their arses uppermost, -I was not a man inferior in my function to your learned and most -eloquent self, or any other fanatick cackler of the holy law, by the -corruption of which (thro’ the spirit of nonsense, and grace of -blasphemy) our party has always supported the worst of causes in the -best of times; and be it known to you, brother doctor, for so I presume -to greet you, that I had not only the practical knack of moistning the -eyes of my congregation with the dreadful doctrine of predestination, -but could also dry up their tears with a spunge of comfort, and make ’em -laugh as heartily whenever I pleas’d, as a city-audience at a -_Smithfield_-comedy; in which most excellent and renown’d faculties, you -are the only modern chatterist, that I hear has since succeeded me, for -which reason, I am very desirous of corresponding with you after this -manner, till fate shall give us your good company in these territories, -to which (if our subterranean governor changes not his opinion) you need -not doubt of being heartily welcome. - -I am sensible news from another world to a man of curiosity, cannot but -be acceptable: I shall therefore proceed to give you some account how -our party (who are very numerous) fare in these sultry dominions, -towards which I hope in a little time, you will set forward on your -journey. - -My quondam master _Oliver Cromwell_, of ever famous memory, to whom upon -earth, you must know, I was not only chaplain in ordinary, but as well -jester to his excellency, an honour which I hear most noblemen confer -upon the black robe, now good old house-keeping, and the party-colour’d -coat are quite thrown out of fashion: My master, I say, who in honour to -his _exit_, was fetch’d away out of the upper world in a whirlwind, and -conducted into these parts with all the solemnities of an usurper, was -establish’d in a notable post at his first admittance into _Pluto_’s -court, in which eminent employment (that like a faithful servant -follow’d him) I found him, to my great satisfaction. _Alecto_, one of -the furies, having taken a surfeit with over-flogging _Guido Vaux_ -(which is a ceremony perform’d here in publick every fifth of -_November_) for discovering the _Gun-Powder-Treason-Plot_, and defeating -that notable design, which by the indefatigable industry of the most -skilful politicians on this side _Acheron_, was so hopefully projected: -and fearing some disorders should arise in our infernal common-wealth -for want of strict discipline, my old master _Oliver_ was pitch’d on to -be deputy-firker to the sick beldam, and a scorpion-rod was accordingly -presented him, with all the usual ceremonies of so grand an instalment. -This news of his advancement was so terrible a conflict to the cavalier -part, who dreading the severity of his correction, petition’d _Pluto_ to -remove him, but to no purpose; which insolence so inflam’d my cholerick -master, that his nose swell’d as big at the end as an apple-dumpling, -and look’d as fiery red (to the terror of those that came under his -lash) as if his magnificent gigg had been a living salamander, so that -wherever he met with a cavalier, he did so firk and jirk him, that -_Busby_ was never a greater terror to a blockhead, or the _Bridewell_ -flog-master to a night-walking strumpet, than he at this day to a -high-flyer or a Jacobite. Great regard has been shewn by his infernal -majesty, to all that in _forty eight_ were members of the high court of -justice; some are made master and wardens of the devil’s mint, for the -coining of new sins; some commissioners of the temptation-office; -others, barons of the diabolical stinkports; and particularly -sollicitor-general _Cook_ is made lord-keeper of hell’s punishments; and -_Bradshaw_ and _Ireton_, two of his imperial smuttiness’s -privy-counsellors: So that all the posts of honour and preferment in -these lower regions are in the hands of our party, hoping those of the -same kidney who live over our heads, enjoy the like advantages, as we -have heard below by a certain courier from _Amsterdam_, you are all -pretty firmly possess’d of. - -There lately arriv’d in these parts a certain woolen-draper out of -_Covent-Garden_ parish, who being touch’d with a deep sense of -ingratitude, could not rest quietly in his whigwam, till he had made a -publick confession of a great indignity he had put upon Mrs. _Meg_’s -chaplain, by which he gave us to understand you were the worthy -gentleman he had most sordidly affronted; the manner of which he -declared with as much sorrow and concern for the action, as ever was -beheld in the face of a dying penitent, between the severity of a -halter, and decency of a night-cap, the substance of his report being to -this purpose; after he had fetch’d two or three deep sighs, as loud as -the puffs of a smith’s bellows: alas! says he, to you I speak, good -people, that are here about me, I was bless’d with a wife of such -singular piety in the other world, who rather than not hear that -reverend teacher of the gospel _D. B._ twice every _Sunday_, she would -cackle for a whole week, far worse than an old hen that has drop’d a -benefit to her owner; whilst I, like a true profligate suburbian, us’d -to confound her zeal, stop the current of her devotion, and damn her -hypocrisy; but the good woman was too strict a protestant to be thus -seduc’d, and still persever’d in spight of all restriction in her -accustomary righteousness, till at last I bethought myself the best way -to reclaim her from this disagreeable purity (for so I thought it) and -bring her over, like me her husband, to be a good sociable sinner, was -to keep a close guard over my pocket, and another over my till, well -considering, that if the flock could not live without spiritual -consolation, the shepherd could not spend his lungs without temporal -subsistence: After I had try’d this experiment for about a fortnight -before the time of contribution, when the hearts of the hearers are -usually as open as their teacher’s conscience, I found my wife’s -extraordinary zeal had stirr’d up a tumultuous spirit within her, so -that nothing would pacify her stubborn disposition, but ten times the -price of a fat pig, to gratify the great benefits she had often receiv’d -from her soul-saving physician; but I, looking into the merits of the -cause, and finding other mens wives us’d to be sav’d, (or at least made -believe so) at a much cheaper rate, and therefore for good reasons best -known to myself, would by no means comply with her religious generosity; -upon which the good woman my wife, lest she should be thought an -ungrateful reprobate by her deserving guide, convey’d a present to the -worthy doctor of a whole piece of black cloth, without my knowledge, and -like a true lover of peace and quietness, conjured my apprentice to keep -it secret; but my man’s honesty being equal to my wife’s religion, in a -little time after, he inform’d me of the matter, upon which (forgive me -good people) I waited upon the doctor with a bill, and without any -tenderness to his piety, or regard to his function, gave him such a -tallyman’s dun, that he swore thro’ divinity, and deny’d the matter of -fact as sturdily as if he had been bred a citizen; yet at last, upon -positive proof thereof, paid the money like an honest gentleman, but -huff’d away as if the passion of envy had overcome the patience of the -priest. But since I find (most worthy gentlemen) that fate has doom’d me -to these sulphurous mansions, where the devil rules the roast, and -presbytery flourishes; I here, before the protector of this -commonwealth, and all his infernal host, submit myself to the present -government in hell establish’d, and heartily declare a penitential -sorrow for the indignity offer’d upon earth to that famous and most -spiritual kid-napper, who I cannot but acknowledge has contributed more -toward the peopling of these dominions, than the states of _Holland_ -have ever done towards the peopling your neighbouring country the -_East-Indies_. - -But now, brother doctor, to make you sensible of the interest you have -in these parts, the audience (notwithstanding the offender’s submission) -were so highly inflam’d that so disgraceful an affront should be put -upon so worthy a benefactor to the _good old cause_, that some cry’d -out with a true spirit of dissention, _Flay, flay the rogue, flay him -for a_ cavalier, _what abuse the Doctor! Others, Scald him, scald him, -he’s a Church Papist: Others, Geld him, geld him, he’s certainly a -Priest_: But the women were against the last sentence, and cry’d the -devil had no law for that severity. So a great hurliburly arose about -the manner of his punishment; but at last the crowd hurry’d him away as -the rabble in your world do a pickpocket, to a pump, or a horse-pond, -and what became of him afterwards I have not yet heard. - -We have abundance of souls flock hither daily, that bring us in very -comfortable tidings from _Mincing-lane_, _Salters-hall_, -_Bishopsgate-street_, _Jewen-street_, _Moorfields_, _Bartholomew-close_, -_Fetter-lane_, _Stepney_, _Hackney_, _Bednal-green_, &c. but more -particularly from _Covent-Garden_; among whom, to your credit it be it -spoken, I have always pick’d out the most agreeable conversation: for -you must know, a little before I absented myself from the pleasures of -the upper world, ’twas my fortune to be haul’d before a dozen of damn’d -crabbed _cavaliers_, revengeful fellows, who look’d as if they would -lose a dinner to hang an honest round-head at any time; and as three or -four tun-belly’d lumps of gravity, in blushing formalities, lin’d with -coney-skins, and those twelve unlucky disciples order’d the matter (to -show they were all fire and tow) they told me a dreadful story of -hanging and burning at _Charing-Cross_, in sight of that old palace we -before had plunder’d. About which ugly sort of business, when I came to -find they were in good earnest, I began to grow as, dizzy in my brains, -as a hog troubled with the megrims, and could no more endure the -thoughts on’t than I could of _Popery_; on my dying day, I strove all I -could to make it easy, but I protest it was in vain, for it prov’d still -as hateful to me, as castration to a priest, or barrenness to a young -woman: in short, at last it made me think of nothing but rattling of -chains, and picking of straws, insomuch that when they fagotted up my -thumbs together, and tumbled me into a hell-cart well litter’d with -straw, but the devil a wheel to’t, I did but just shut my eyes, and -fancy’d myself to be in a dark room in _Bedlam_. In this manner they -rumbled me thro’ a long lane of spectators, who star’d at me as if I had -been a _rhinoceros_ with a _Bantam_ queen upon my back; at last they -dragg’d me into an ill-favour’d piece of timber, in the shape of a welch -sign-post, where they tuck’d me up to a beam, and made me keck a little, -as if something had gone the wrong way; upon which I fell into a kind of -a hag-ridden slubber for a quarter of an hour, dreaming I sunk a -thousand leagues into the bowels of the earth, and no sooner awak’d, but -found myself, as I told you before, in company with my old master: my -sleep prov’d much too short for the recovery of my senses, and tho’ I -saw several of my old friends about me, the pain of my neck, and terror -of my fall, made me rave worse than a narrow-scutted punk under the -hands of a mad-midwife; till by the advice of a consult of physicians, -who are here as numerous as _crocodiles_ in the land of _Egypt_; a -vesicatory of devil’s-dung was apply’d to my _costern_, which restor’d -me to my wits in a few minutes, which in the time of adversity, like -ungovernable rebels, had abdicated their master. But that which most -troubled me when I found myself _compos mentis_, was the circular -impression the hempen collar had left about my gullet, by which the -fellow-subjects discover’d I swung into hell the back way, for which -reason some prodigal _jack-a-dandies_ refus’d to keep me company, -despising me as much as a butcher does a bull-dog, that instead of -running fair at the head, catches hold of the tail, and hangs at the -arse of his enemy; for you must know, doctor, the most reputable way of -entring into this sub-terrestial country, is to come in at the -fore-door, thro’ which none are admitted but such as spend their full -time in wickedness in the upper world without flinching: nay be as proud -of a notorious sin, as a jockey is of his riding that has won a -horse-race, and glory more in the invention of a new vice, than a coward -does of a victory, till at last, by the effects of his debaucheries, -pox, gout and rheumatism, he is lifted out of your world into ours, -without one thought of repentance. These are highly rewarded here for -the glorious examples they have left behind them; but he that comes -hither like a dog, with the print of a collar about his neck, is no more -respected than a prophet in his own country; the reason is, because they -who pass gallows-way into these shades, generally at their _exit_, show -a sorrow for their sins; so that if heaven did not take their contrition -for a kind of death-bed repentance the devil would be a great loser; -besides, they soften the hearts of sinners by their sniveling and -howling, and deter others from the like wickedness. These considerations -occasion the tyburnians to be very much slighted by other company: but -I, thro’ good fortune, by that time I had been here a fortnight, met -with a good honest shoemaker, who had cut his throat in a garret in -_Russel-street_, upon the point of _Predestination_, which he had heard -you handling of for three hours together the very same afternoon, before -he could find in his heart to perform the decent execution. Upon serious -examination, I found the fellow talk’d very notably of religion; nay, -much better than he did of a shoe-soal, or an upper-leather; he had such -an assurance of his parts, as to challenge _Bunyan_ the tinker to chop -logick with him; and _Naylor_ the quaker, who was of a principle between -both, was thought the best qualify’d person in all hell for an impartial -moderator; but your nimble chopp’d pupil was as much too cunning for the -_Pilgrim_ author, as a fox is for a badger, that at last the shoemaker -got his ends, and left the poor tinker without one argument in his -budget. By the assistance of this honest cordwainer, (who hearing I had -been a minister of the gospel in the other world, was mighty respectful -to me) I got acquainted with several others, who had been of your -congregation; some old women, who had hang’d themselves in their -garters, thro’ fear the lord had not elected them: others, who had -waited for a call to heaven till their last dram of patience, as well as -their patrimony, were quite exhausted, the first in religious exercises, -and the last in holy offerings to you their teacher; and finding very -little come of either, they resolv’d the king shou’d lose a poor -subject, and yourself a pious communicant; and so by the judicious -application of either knife or halter, convey’d themselves thro’ death -to these infernal shades, which they always liv’d in dread of, but not -finding the climate so terribly hot on this side _Styx_, as you have -often represented it, they rest well satisfy’d in their conditions, and -all heartily present their humble service to you, hoping with myself, -you will always stick close to your old doctrine, and labour hard to -support and infuse into your followers, the true enthusiastick -principles of _Fanaticism_, and you need not question but to wallow in -the pleasures of human life whilst above board, and be doubly damn’d -hereafter among us for the signal services you have done to the sable -protector of these populous territories, which can never want recruits, -whilst there is a _Burgess_ in the upper world, and a _Lucifer_ in the -lower one. - -HUGH PETERS. - - - - -DANIEL BURGESS’_s Answer to_ HUGH PETERS. - - -I receiv’d your insolent epistle with no small dissatisfaction, and had -you not inform’d me, I should have guess’d it came from hell, and that -none but the devil, besides yourself, could have digitis’d a pen after -so scurrillous a manner: how I came to be your brother, as you are -pleas’d very sawcily to call me, I can’t tell, for thou wer’t no more -than a meer pulpit merry-andrew, fit only to jest poor ignorant wenches -out of their bodkins and thimbles, and I, _Daniel Burgess_ am known -thro’ all _England_ to be a reverend teacher of the good word the -gospel, and a saver of souls by the means of grace, and the help of -mercy. - -’Tis true, I cannot but acknowledge that you were a serviceable agent in -the promotion of the _good old cause_; but when you came to die a martyr -for it, the whimsical fear of damnation so disturb’d your fly-blown -brains, that a dog hang’d by a cleanly housewife for dropping a -sirreverence in a room new wash’d, or a cat condemn’d to the same -punishment for licking up the childrens milk, were never certainly such -a scandal to a halter, as thy frantick self. When like a true teacher of -spiritual dissention, thou should’st have glory’d in all the past -actions of thy life, that had the least tendency to the pulling down of -that papistical government, that whore of _Babylon_, monarchy, and -setting up in its stead, that wholesome and inseparable twins, -presbytery and a commonwealth; you hasten’d on your own damnation by -foolish fear and cowardly repentance, and shew’d fifty times more -distraction than a horn-mad cuckold, that had catch’d his wife playing -at flipflap with her tail like a live flownder in a frying-pan. - -As for that woolen jack-a-dandy, that fed his family by the product of a -sheeps-back, that unrighteous tell-tail rogue, that us’d to curse his -wife for being godly, if ever you will do me a piece of good service in -your damnable country, I beg you to entreat _Lucifer_ on my behalf, to -freeze him once a day into a cake of ice, and then thaw him without -mercy, in one of his hottest hell-kettles; or let him be flogg’d three -times a day by your old master, worse than _Titus Oates_, or brother -_Johnson_, for he’s as rank a cavalier as ever had the impudence to spit -in a round-head’s face, or speak treason against the rump-parliament; -and tell him, tho’ he made me pay for the cloth, given me as a just -reward of my pastoral care of his wife’s immortality, yet she had the -christian gratitude, to make me doubly amends before a fortnight was -expir’d; but how the donor came by the benefit she bestow’d, I thought -was a little ungrateful for the receiver to enquire into, and unbecoming -a minister of the word, bearing my figure and character. - -As for the sorry wretches you mention, who by the virtue and efficacy of -my doctrine, took a by-path into the other world, that happen’d to lead -’em into your territories: I must tell you, they were such a parcel of -scoundrels, whose diminutive souls I look’d upon to be meer trumpery, -damag’d goods, not worthy their freight, fit for nothing but to be -thrown over-board; poor tatter’d scraps of immortality crouded into -skins, each of less value than a hog’s-pudding. _Lucifer_ himself, I’m -sure, should he wage new war with heaven, would not have given -three-pence a-piece to have lifted them into his service, they would not -have been fit for so much as powder-monkeys, to have handed fire and -brimstone after the army; for my part, I wonder now you have got ’em, -how you bestow ’em, or what use the devil can put ’em to; I protest when -they were living upon earth, I found them such needy communicants, I -thought them fitter to be confin’d within the narrow limits of some old -alms-house for subsistance, there to read and practise Mr. _Tryon_’s -water-gruel directory, and enjoy the charitable income of -three-half-pence a day, settled by some old rogue who had cheated the -world of thousands, and hopes to make an atonement by starving perhaps -twenty old women every year in his little row of charity pigeon-holes, -endow’d with nine-pence _per_ week, and a thimbleful of coals; as if -providing a miserable life for one person, was a sufficient recompence -for cheating another: I say, they were fitter to be made close tenants -to some such bountiful nest of drawers, than to come like a parcel of -thread-bare zealots into a meeting, like bullies into a tavern, without -a penny of money in their pockets, and disturb people of good fashion -and credit, zealous benefactors to their guide, in the height of their -devotion, an intolerable grievance to a pious congregation, that pay -well for the assurance of salvation: and if we did not sometimes by the -frightful doctrine of _non-election_ and _damnation_, make these -ragamuffin reprobates take up the knife of dispair, and clear the garden -of the righteous from those rascally poor weeds who are always sucking -juice from the more valuable plants, in a little time the fruitful soil -would be so over-run with docks and nettles, that there would be no -living for the gardner, whose profits must arise from the products of -those trees laden with rich fruit, which for yielding plentifully in due -season, become more worthy of his care. - -This is the case, and therefore who can blame me for my doctrine, if it -should be a means of making two or three garetteers, and as many -cellar-divers, by the help of twisted-hemp, or cold iron, forward their -journies to the lord knows whither, the world has the less to provide -for, and those that are gone have, according to the opinion of our -fore-fathers, nothing to care for? So to tell you the truth on’t, I am -never without a score of such communicants to spare, and if they were -all to be with you before night, I should think it a very comfortable -riddance. - -I am sorry I have not so much time to abuse you as I could heartily wish -I had, for you cannot but be sensible how much you have deserv’d it, and -how well qualified I am for such an undertaking, if I had but leisure to -exert my talent; and why we of the same function should treat one -another scurvily, would be no wonder, because two of a trade can never -agree; however I shall reserve my fury till another opportunity, being -just now invited to a supper by a devout communicant, whose husband’s in -the country, and I am sure she will have provided something worth my -nibbling at, which I scorn to lose the benefit of for a piece of -revenge: so farewel, - -D. BURGESS. - - - - -LUDLOW _the_ Regicide _to the_ Calves-Head Club. - - -_Most diabolical Sons of Darkness_, - -Of all the villainies perpetrated upon earth, that the greatest rebel -could be proud of, or _Lucifer_ blush at, I myself hid so large a share -in, that the devil for my hearty sincerity, and trusty management -therein, gives me the right-hand, dignify’d and distinguish’d me with -the superb title of his elder brother: no man ever gloried more in -wickedness than myself, and that which now makes my punishment a -pleasure, is to think how nobly I deserved it. Many I know are the -treasonable plots and contrivances transacted in the upper world, but -never was any magnificent piece of wickedness, or superlative deed of -devilism, ever performed with more ostentation and alacrity, than that -most impious and audacious act, in which I was so highly concerned, and -that the very monarch of hell might have been proud to have had a hand -in; to fire churches, commit sacrilege, ravish virgins, murder infants, -or spit in the faces of our parents, are trifling sins that a man of my -figure in iniquity would be asham’d to be caught in; but to murder the -best of princes, and glory in the deed, is such an infernal evil that -hell can’t blacken, or earth can’t parallel; a sacred piece of villany -becoming only the treachery of a puritan to execute, and the pen and -principles of a _Tutchin_ to endeavour to justify. - -_Lucifer_ and all his kingdom of hob-gobblins, drink a health to your -society every thirtieth of _January_, in burnt brandy, and are well -assur’d the interest of these infernal territories can never sink, as -long as there is a _Calves-Head Club_ upon earth, to glory in the -remembrance of the worst of villianies; and a whiggish society of -reformation, for the better establishment of hypocrisy. We, who had the -honour to be his majesty’s judges, or rather as some call us, -_Regicides_, are all mess’d together in an apartment by ourselves, and -the murderers of _Henry_ III. and _Henry_ IV. of _France_ are appointed -to attend us at our table; and Felton that stabb’d the duke of -_Buckingham_, is our lacquey to run of errands. - -In all _Lucifer_’s extensive dominions, there is not one society so much -respected as ourselves, and the greatest villains that ever were upon -earth, are by the devil, when they come here, scarce thought wicked -enough to wait upon us in the most servile station; the very jesuits -themselves known by all the world to value royal blood no more than a -_Jew_ does a hog’s-pudding, are not suffer’d to walk within an hundred -yards of us; nay, the very dissenting shepherds of that rebellious -flock, who always follow’d me as their only bell-weather, are not here -thought worthy of our conversation, only now and then a member of our -sanctify’d society the _Calves-Head Club_, drops headlong in among us, -and _Old Nic_ indeed appoints them to grind mustard and scrape horse -radish for us his well-beloved brethren the _Regicides_; for you must -know ’tis the custom in this sweating climate, for people to deal much -in very hot sauces, and that most delicate palate-scorching soop called -pepper-pot, a kind of devil’s broth much eat in the _West-Indies_, is -always the first dish brought to our table. - -All hell applauds you mightily for your zeal and integrity for the _good -old cause_, and your cordial approbation of the great effects thereof, -which you annually show upon every thirtieth of _January_ that -derisionary festival, which you keep like the bold sons of confusion, -that the true spirit of rebellion may never die, and the dreadful -consequences of a damnable reformation may never be forgotten, in which -most notable, audacious and courageous piece of insolence, you not only -declare yourselves the brave defenders of all king-killing principles, -but plainly discover your undaunted souls are ready upon all occasions -of the like nature, to solemnly engage in the most startling mischief -that hell’s most politick _Divan_ are willing to contrive, or a body of -the most resolute infidels in the universe able to perpetrate? this do I -speak to your eternal reputation, that _Lucifer_ and all his sable -legions have publickly acknowledged their pride and malice, are much -out-done by your private assembly, and the expertest devils among all -the infernal host, turn pale with envy, and degenerate from their -blackness to see their impudence outbrazen’d by a club of mortal -puritans? so that I would advise you as a friend, when death, by virtue -of his uncontroulable _Habeas Corpus_, shall remove you to these dusky -confines, you will put on a little modesty, tho’ you play the hypocrite, -least if you behave yourselves here as you do in the upper world, you -shall dash the devil out of countenance. - -_So farewel._ - - - - -_An Answer by the_ Calves-Head Club, _to_ LUDLOW _the_ Regicide. - - -_Most Noble Colonel_, - -We receiv’d your letter, wherein your hatred to kings is discernable in -your stile; you scorn, like ourselves, the flattery of a courtier, and -write to your friends in the rough language of a bold soldier, that did -not only dare to uncrown, but to unhead a monarch, to advance the -authority of the good people of _England_ above sovereign domination, -and free them from the bridle of the laws, which are no more in our -opinion than a politick restraint upon their natural freedom, an act -worthy of so indefatigable a patriot, who would leave no stone unturn’d, -that the wrong side of every thing might be rais’d uppermost, and that -those who had long against their wills been brought under a compulsive -subjection, might once have an opportunity of trampling upon that -ambition to which they were once slaves, and of raising up their -groveling snouts above that aspiring head, which for many ages had -oppress’d millions of mankind by the dint of power eclips’d their native -liberty, and crushed them into a slavish obedience. - -What ass in the universe would not kick at his master, if he was sure he -could knock his head off, and shake off that burthen beneath which he -groans, if he was not such a coward to be fearful of a greater? -Rebellion is always sanctifyed if it succeeds well, and the end -propos’d, obtain’d with safety, always gives glory to the atchievement. -Authority is only obey’d, because ’tis fear’d; and if once trodden under -foot, nothing appears so despicable, as he that mounts a resty steed is -counted a good horseman, if he tames the beast; but if the stubborn -courser throws his rider, he falls a laughing stock to the glad -spectators. - -You seem to be truly sensible how much we glory in that act, which ought -to be as much your pride, as it is our satisfaction: we reverence the -valiant arm that did the deed, and daily signalize our gratitude to the -pious memory of those illustrious heroes, who by their undaunted -magnanimity brought their unparallell’d undertakings to a hopeful issue, -and left behind them such a glorious example, which we shall never -neglect to imitate when ourselves have opportunity. We have long hoped -for the lucky minute, wherein we might shew the world the strength of -our resolutions, and the constancy of our principles, and make those -cowardly slaves know, who pretend an abhorrence to your past bravery, -that we are the cocks, when we dare crow, that will make the lion -tremble; we have at all times when we meet, an ax hung up in our -club-room, in _pia memoria_ of your sacred action: but had we the true -weapon, as much as we hate popery, we should turn idolaters, and worship -it much more than _Roman Catholicks_ do their pictures. We have every -thirtieth of _January_ a _calves-head feast_, in contempt of that head -which fell a glorious sacrifice to your justice, over which we drink to -the pious memory of _Oliver Cromwell_; confusion to monarchy; to the -downfal of episcopacy; a health to every noble regicide, and to the -universal propagation of all king-killing principles; and if these are -not meritorious formalities, and decent observances, we know not how to -oblige our honest brethren, who are co-habitants with you at such a -distance beneath us. - -To be accounted rebels and bold villains, does not in any measure make -us uneasy; for the believing ourselves otherwise, is a compleat -satisfaction to ballance their envy that so think us; besides the -pleasure we find in accounting them fools, slaves and cowards, is really -more to us than a sufficient recompence: so that by our vilifying our -opposites, we deny them opportunity ever to be even with us. The author -of the dialogue between _Vassal_ and _Freeman_, is our secretary; you -guess’d his name very right in your letter, and a notable fellow he is -either in verse or prose, for the justification of our principles; and -is such a desperate tongue-stabbing hero at _pro_ and _con_, that he -clears the house of all people wherever he comes, but those of his own -kidney; he vindicates all the proceedings of the _High Court of -Justice_, with such admirable obstinacy and impudence, that the best -lawyer in _Westminster-hall_ is not able to cope with him, and justifies -the bringing of a king to a scaffold, when the people dislike his -stewardship, with so much insolence and arrogance, and drags him to a -block, as you would a bear to a stake, with so much decency, that had he -liv’d in the happy days when you erected a _High Court of Justice_, he -would have been the fittest man in the universe for two posts under you; -_First_, To have been attorney-general, and then executioner, and would, -I am confident, have so strenuously exerted himself in both offices, -that he would have gained a double reputation with our godly party. -_First_, For the discharge of the one with the utmost malignancy. And, -_Secondly_, For the dispatch of the other without disguise; for I dare -be confident, he has assurance enough to go through-stitch with any -thing that the world calls villainy, if we but think it virtue without -the fear of shame, or dread of punishment: indeed, had our growing -principles at this day but such another champion to defend ’em, I do not -question but in a few years we might bring matters to bear, and by -downright dint of our own weapon, _calumny_, make way to play the old -game over again, to a far better purpose than has been yet effected. -With the great hopes of which we take leave at present, desiring your -brother _Lucifer_ upon all occasions to lend us his assistance. So we -subscribe ourselves both his and your - -_Humble Servants_, - -J.T. S.B. J.S. _&c._ - - - - -_From_ J. NAYLOR, _to his_ Friends _at the_ Bull _and_ Mouth. - - -_Friends and Brethren in the Spirit_, - -You who are the true transcript of the people originally call’d -_Quakers_, may perhaps expect, that I _James Naylor_ in the dark, should -commend my hearty love to you my friends in the light, in such like -manner as the spirit us’d to dictate to me upon earth, before I -unhappily fell under this wonderful transfiguration, which I now am -appointed to maintain thro’ the whole course of eternity. - -I had no sooner set footing into this deep abyss of midnight, to which -the sun, moon and stars are as great strangers, as frost and snow are to -the country of _Ethiopia_, but a parcel of black spiritual janizaries -saluted me as intimately as if I had been resident in these parts during -the term of an apprenticeship; at last up comes a swindging lusty, -over-grown, austre devil, arm’d with an ugly weapon like a country dung -fork, looking as sharp about the eyes as a _Woodstreet_ officer, and -seem’d to deport himself after such a manner, that discovered he had an -ascendency over the rest of the immortal negroes, and, as I imagin’d, so -’twas quickly evident; for as soon as he espied me leering between the -diminutive slabbering-bib, and the extensive brims of my cony-wool -umbrella, he chucks me under the chin with his ugly toad-colour’d paw, -that stunk as bad of brimstone as a card-match new lighted, crying, How -now, honest _James_, I am glad to see thee on this side the river -_Styx_, prithee hold up thy beard, and don’t be asham’d, thou art not -the first quaker by many thousands that has sworn allegiance to my -government; besides, thou hast been one of my best benefactors upon -earth, and now thou shalt see like a grateful devil, I’ll reward thee -accordingly: I thank your excellency kindly, said I, pray what is it -your infernal protectorship will be pleas’d to confer upon me? To which -his mighty ugliness reply’d, friend _Naylor_, I know thou hast been very -industrious to make many people fools in the upper world, which has -highly conduc’d to my interest. Then turning to a pigmy aërial, who -attended his commands as a running footman; haste, _Numps_, says he, -and fetch me the painted coat, which was no sooner brought, but, by -_Lucifer_’s command, I was shov’d into it neck and shoulders, by half a -dozen smutty _valets de chambre_, and in a minute’s time found my self -trick’d up in a rainbow-colour’d coat, like a merry-andrew. Now, friend, -says the ill-favour’d prince of all the hell-born scoundrels, for the -many fools you have made above, I now ordain you mine below; so all the -reward, truly, of my great services, was to be made _Lucifer_’s jester, -or fool in ordinary to the devil: a pretty post, thought I, for a man of -my principles, that from a quaker in the other world, I should be -metamorphosed into a jack-adams in the lower one. I could not but think -it a strange kind of mutation, and knew no more how to behave myself in -my gaudy-colour’d robes, than if I had been damn’d, and cramm’d into a -tortoise-shell, and must have walk’d about hell upon all fours with a -house upon my back. - -In a little time after this new dignity was conferr’d upon me, the devil -happen’d to make a splendid entertainment for all the souls in his -dominion, who in the upper world had been profess’d Quakers, where I, -quoth the fool, was ordered to give my attendance for the diversion of -the company, but found myself so strangely disappointed when I beheld -the guests, that had I been messed in _Noah_’s ark among lyons, bears, -and alligators, I could not have been more amaz’d than I was at the -unexpected appearance and deportment of such a confus’d assembly: my -master _Lucifer_, and _Ramsey_ the jesuit at his right hand, sat at the -upper end of the table, and the rest of the scrambling company were -seated like so many hungry mechanicks at a corporation-feast; but -instead of their conversation being _Yea_ and _Nay_, there never was -heard such swearing and cursing at a publick gaming-table, nor all the -points of copulation more lewdly discuss’d at a bawdy-house; blasphemy -was the modestest of their talk, and there I came in with ’em for a -fool’s share, and exerted my talent to the approbation and applause of -the whole society. - -Observing such a wonderful change in these our infernal friends, from -what they appeared to be in the upper world, made my curiosity itch -mightily to know the reason of this surprising alteration; upon which, -said I, prithee _Lucifer_, in plain words, (for we fools you must know -may say any thing to our masters) what is the meaning that these people -who were _quondam_ quakers when upon _terra firma_, should turn such -debauch’d libertines in these lower regions, and from the most religious -and precise of all hypocritical heaven-servers, to become the most -degenerate reprobates in all your damnable dominions? I’ll tell you, -says _Lucifer_, the reason; always those that pretended to the greatest -purity in the other world, put on the cloak of religion, not to save -their souls but to hide their vices, as some women wear masks, not to -preserve their beauty, but to hide their ugliness; and when that veil is -taken away which obscur’d the sinfulness of their natures, or when -opportunity gives them leave to be wicked without damage to their -interest (as they may here) you see how loose and wanton the most -zealous of both sexes will be, notwithstanding all the external promises -of piety and vertue. These words, tho’ they came from the father of -lies, yet their satirical force gave me such a stab in the conscience, -that had my label of mortality been stung by a wasp or a hornet, it -could not have griev’d the outward man more, than this diabolical saying -did the inward; and knowing by experience it savour’d of a little truth, -I thought I could do no more than communicate his answer to you my -friends, who are lovers of verity, from whence you may discern with half -an eye, that _Satan_ understands you as well as he does the college of -_Jesuits_, or a _Dutch_ conventicle, and if you take not timely care, -will certainly prove too cunning for you. - -Perhaps you will think me a very imperfect intelligencer, to tell you of -a feast, and give you no account of the provisions, or what sort food -the devil in his sultry dominions entertains his friends withal; -therefore in the next place I shall venture to give you a bill of fare, -that you may know at present what you may expect hereafter, lest -otherwise I should leave your curiosities unsatisfied, and keep you -ignorant of those avernous dainties by which immortality is here -subsisted. - -The first course consisted of a huge platterful of scorpions -spits-cock’d, a fricassee of young salamanders, a bailiff’s rump -roasted, baisted with its own dung, and a cock phœnix scalded in his -feathers, smother’d with melted soap and boil’d arsnick; these were -gross, substantial meats, design’d chiefly for keen appetites. The -second course contain’d six dozen of _West-India_ gwanas roasted in -their own shells, a dish of squab-hickaries poach’d, a brace of flying -dragons stew’d in their own blood, and a dish of shovel-nos’d sharks -fry’d with a leviathan in the middle, toss’d up with what’s as good for -a sow as a pancake; these were dainties that could not but be acceptable -to the most squeamish stomachs; but now for rarities that must please -the gust of an emperor. The third and last course consisted of such -spiritual nutriment, that the nicest palated soul on this side the -adamantine gates, without a surfeit, might subsist on to all eternity, -which was serv’d up to the table, in much greater order than any of the -foregoing part of the entertainment. In the first place, a dish of -metaphysical curds, swimming in the cream of eloquence, was brought to -the upper end of the table, by a devil in a long gown, upon which piece -of cookery _Lucifer_ and the _Jesuit_ fed very heartily. In the next -place a dish of pickl’d enthusiasms well pepper’d with obstinancy, and -cover’d with the vinegar of dissention, was handed to the board by a -meagre-fac’d devil in a little band and long cloak, which by abundance -of the company was highly approv’d on. The third dish was a mess of -melancholy humdrums, mix’d with sobs and sighs, and garnish’d round with -blasphemy and nonsense, serv’d up with a she devil in _querpo-hood_ and -green apron, which the whole assembly in general commended, and devour’d -as greedily as a gang of _Welsh_ drovers would do a mess of -leek-porridge, or a dish of cows bubby. When every soul had fed -plentifully, and refresh’d his immortality with a chearful dose of -spirit of sulphur, I, quoth the fool, for the jest’s sake, was appointed -to say grace after meat; and when I had discharg’d the office of a -chaplain, as comical as I could, the guests stagger’d away like so many -fluster’d long tails from a _Kentish_ feast, and so the solemnity was -ended. - -I have little more news to communicate from these parts, only that -within these few months, we have had five or six thousand diabolical -spirits, return’d from their embassies in the upper world, who were many -years since commanded thither by prince _Lucifer_, to the assistance and -further establishment of our party and opinion, and had every one of -them possess’d themselves of good quarters, and lay snug in the bosoms -of our sanctified friends, but reported when they came back, that an old -trout-back apostate, who lately fell from quakerism to the church, -arming himself cap-a-pee with the armour of truth, took up the sword of -the gospel, and by downright dint of scripture and sound reason, made so -large a conquest over _Satan_’s subjects, that the devils were forc’d to -quit their possessions, and leave great numbers of our friends to the -mercy of G----d and their ecclesiastical enemies; but fresh recruits -are daily sent among you from these infernal territories, hoping in a -little time to recover our lost interest. - -I would have troubled you a little further, but that _Lucifer_ being put -in a merry mood by the pleasing news of your _European Differences_, has -order’d all his jesters to be in waiting, and you know, all princes upon -publick rejoycings at court, must have their fools as well as knaves, to -attend ’em: so farewel. - -J. NAYLOR. - - - - -_The_ Quakers _Answer to_ JAMES NAYLOR. - - -_James Naylor_, - -Thy friends are all very much afflicted to hear that _Satan_ the father -of the wicked, has laid violent hands upon thee, and has drawn thee out -of the light into the land of utter darkness; if the dross of the world, -that ungodly mammon, which tempts the unwary often into the sins of the -flesh and many other iniquities, would redeem thee from thy woful -prison, where nothing is to be heard but weeping, wailing and gnashing -of teeth, we would lend thee our assistance with all our hearts; but the -spirit within us has declar’d the truth, and told us, that thy -unmerciful jaylor will take no bribe or bail, and that the debt thou art -in for, the world cannot pay, and therefore we all fear thou art -trapann’d into a loathsome gaol from whence there is no redemption. We -thought the many persecutions thou underwent’st for the l--d’s sake in -this world, (_viz._) as peeping thro’ the yoak of infamy, and losing thy -two members of attention. _Secondly_, for hugging the vagabonds -land-mark against the will of the spirit, and undergoing the rod of -correction. And, _Thirdly_, for suffering the clack of the spirit to be -bored thro’ with a hot wimble, for warranting thyself to be the true son -of thy father, would have been merits sufficient to have rais’d thee -upon the pinnacle of mount _Sion_, and there to have fixed thee as a -standing evidence of the truth to all eternity; but since the spirit -within thee prov’d a lying spirit, that extinguished the light, and led -thee like a blind guide into the dark ways of destruction; we that were -the followers of thy false glimmerings, must forsake the errors, and -seek the lord by a more perfect illumination, for the false fading -_jack-a-lanthorn_ which thou leftest among us, is burn’d into the -socket, and now stinks in the nostrils of the righteous, far worse than -the dying snuff of a cotton-candle; besides, what spiritual pilgrim in -his progress to the land of the living, would follow a wicked -_Will-with-a-wisp_, who has led a friend before into dark ways, and -there left him to grope among the filthiness of sin and pricks of -conscience to all eternity? no, if we follow thy ways, we shall err like -stray’d sheep, and be pounded by _Satan_ for wand’ring into the paths of -the wicked. - -That the father of lies, upon thy first entrance into his wicked -habitation, should put thee into a fool’s jacket, we do not much wonder, -for the painted marks of folly are _Satan’s_ gay livery, with which he -cloaths his wicked servants in this world as well as in his dominions; -for didst thou ever behold on earth the sons of darkness, who follow the -lust of the flesh, and delight in those pomps and vanities which the -inward man forbids our frail natures to pursue, but they always were -distinguish’d by some gaudy badge, which discovered their pride, or -other infirmities? do not the high-priests of _Baal_ wear lawn -coversluts, and their head journeymen red pokes upon their backs? do not -flatterers of princes wear badges on their breasts, and adorn their -spindle-shanks with glittering gimcracks? do not their lazy slaves wear -blue and yellow, that the world may know whose fools they are? do not -the blessers of their food wear silken ornaments dangling from their -proud necks to their ancles, that the publick may mistake them to be -wiser than their neighbours? do not the captains of the host hoop their -loins with golden sashes, and stick feathers in their caps to fright -their foes with their finery? do not judges wear gowns of a crimson die, -and the great men of the law wear the skull-caps of knavery, with the -edges tipp’d with innocence, to deceive the vulgar? do not physicians -ride in coaches with the weapons of destruction ty’d dangling at their -arses, as it they were hurrying on a full trot to kill and not recover -their patients? do not haughty vintners hypocritically tye on their blue -ensigns of humility, to cozen their customers into an opinion of their -lowliness? do not whoremongers and adulterers thatch their empty noddles -with whole thickets of whores-hair? and do not wanton women wear turrets -on their heads, and cover their tails with the bowels of the silk-worms? -do not drunkards wear red noses, knaves hawks eyes, and liars impudent -faces? in short, friend _Naylor_, most people upon earth have some badge -or other of _Satan_’s livery; even kings themselves wear purple, and the -whores of _Babylon_ scarlet; therefore our friends are all of one -opinion, that since thou departed’st so far from the light, as to suffer -wicked _Satan_ to decoy thee into his trapsoul of eternal darkness, he -has done thee but justice to put thee into a fool’s coat, that every -time thou art thoughtful of thy miserable confinement, thou may’st look -upon thy party-coloured livery, and cry with a pitiful voice, alas, what -a fool am I! which is all the comfort thy friends who are sorrowful for -thy condition, are able to administer unto thee at this immensurable -distance. - -We are very glad to here that _Satan_ is no niggard in his family, but -like a generous host, provides so plentiful a table for his numerous -guests: we thy Friends upon earth, have taken his infernal food into our -serious consideration, and have resolv’d, _nemine contradicente_, to -lead a starving life upon earth, rather than enter his palace-gate to be -beholden to him for a dinner. We shew’d thy bill of fare to our friend -_Roberts_, at the _White hart_ in _Chancery-lane_, approv’d by the -wicked men of the law, who love to profane their stomachs with fine -feeding, to be as nice a gratifier of luxurious palates as ever handled -ladle; and he declareth for truth, by the motion of the spirit, that -tho’ he has often roasted a cod’s-head larded with bacon without tying -it upon the spit, boil’d a pound of butter stuff’d with anchovies -without melting it, grilliado’d jelly of harts-horn without dissolving -it, fry’d a jackboot into incomparable tripe, stew’d pebble-stones till -they have become as soft as stew’d prunes, and has made good savoury -sauce with an addled egg and kitchin-stuff, yet he acknowledges himself -wholly ignorant how to dress any one dish thou hast mentioned in the -catalogue of thy dainties, and therefore desires thou wilt do him the -friendly kindness to acquaint us in the next letter, what sort of cook -_Satan_ has got in his kitchin; and if he be a friend, whether thou -think’st our friend _Coquus_’s wife mayn’t be admitted as his scullion, -in case she would become a servant in thy master’s family, for she is -grown so peevish, he is willing to part with her. So hoping thou wilt -give us an account the next opportunity, we rest thy, _Loving Friends_. - - - - -From LILLY to COOLEY the _Almanack-maker_ in Baldwin’s-Gardens. - - -_My dear old bottle-friend and companion_, - -_Ever since I took a trip into this lower world, and left you (by the -help of Moon-groaping and Star-fumbling) to project almanacks, predict -prodigies, and conjure up lost spoons, stoln good, and stray’d cattle, I -have had no opportunity of paying my respects to you, till now, for ’tis -so abominably up hill from our world to yours, that none but the devil -himself is able to climb it, he being forced to creep upon all-four, -like a squirrel up a nut-tree, all the way of his journey; and had I -sent a letter by his cloven-footed worship, I was fearful you would not -have thought him, at your years, a proper messenger. I hear, since I -left you, you are grown as grey as a badger, and that you are approv’d -by all cook-maids, porters-wives and basket-women, to be the most -eminent bodkin and thimble-hunter of all the_ Ptolemeans _in the town, -and by the help of the twelve heavenly houses and their seven twinkling -inhabitants, not only undertake, but make wonderful discoveries. -Flat-caps and blue-aprons, I hear haunt your door every morning, as -hawkers do a publisher’s, or journeymen-taylors a_ Smithfield _cook’s at -noon, some for a sixpenny, and some a twelvepenny slice of your -Astrological judgment, of which, to show your honesty to the world, you -give them such lumping pennyworths, that you have made the noble -science of Heaven-peeping as cheap to the publick, as boil’d tripe in_ -Fee-lane, _or bak’d sheeps-head in your own element_ Baldwin’s-gardens. -_I am joyful to hear you are grown so great a proficient in the -celestial gimcracks; but indeed, when I first knew you a joyner at_ -Oxford, _that us’d to make cedar cases for close-stool pans, I thought -you as ingenious a mechanick in your way, as he that invented a -mouse-trap or a nut-cracker, but little thought then, you would have -laid down the plane and the hand-saw, of which you were an absolute -master, to take up_ Albumazar’_s weapons, the celestial globe and -compasses, to which you were a mere stranger: but however, Astrology -being a kind of liberal science all men I know are free to dive into the -mystery, from the whimsey headed scholar, to the strolling tinker; -therefore your leather-apron and glue-pot are no disparagement to your -pursuit of the seven wandring informers, any more than it is a scandal -to a mountebank to be first a fool, and then a travelling physician_. -Gadbury _we know was no more than a country botcher, before he was -admitted as a tenant into the twelve houses; and_ Partridge _was no more -than a_ London _cobler, before he was made running footman to the seven -planets; yet both these students in Astrology have arriv’d, I hear, to -as great an eminency in their heavenly profession, as ever was acquired -by the famed Dr._ Saffold, _or his successor_ Case, _by long study and -experience, in the noble arts of Poetry and Physick. Therefore why may -not that spurious issue of a Carpenter call’d a Joiner, make as -legitimate an Astrologer, as profound a Conjurer, as infallible a -Fortune-teller, as the best of them; nay better, if he knows but to use -his tongue like a smoothing-plane, and can take down the roughness of -some peoples incredulity, then may he work them as he does his -deal-boards, till he has glu’d or nail’d them fast to his own interest. -These are the talents for which I hear you are famous above other -Astrologers, and that by downright dint of craft, pout and banter, you -have wheedled more money in your time out of chamber-maids, -cook-wenches, old bawds, midwives, nurses, and young strumpets, than -ever was got by the rug and leather, luck in a bag, or that in most -excellent juggle on the cards, call’d_ preaching the parson: _nay if all -the gains that you have made of these three profitable inventions were -to be join’d together; besides a whole mustard-pot full of -broad-pieces, a drudging-box full of guineas, a meal-tub full of crowns -and half crowns, and an old powdering-tub full of shillings and -sixpences, which lie parcel’d up in your own house, I hear that you have -several hundreds of pounds in the_ Stationers _company, which, besides -the interest of the money, entitles you every year to four good dinners -in the hall, as many noddles full of rare claret, and four pockets full -of venison-pasty for your female deputy, who is said to be a notable -understrapper to you in the business of Astrology, and is of as much -service to you as a second to a merry-andrew, for without the one, the -other could do nothing_. - -_I cannot but highly approve of the method I observe in your almanacks, -for since you write every year four_, i. e. _three in other persons -names, and one in your own, you have wisely projected a way to be -infallibly right in your predictions of the weather, which are commonly -varied under no more than four several denominations in any one of the -four seasons; so that by making your prognostications in every almanack -different, one must certainly tell right, and by keeping all four in -your pocket, which I am inform’d you have cunning enough to take care -of, by plucking out that which you know is agreeable and falls right, -declaring yourself to be the author, you gain reputation, and by this -juggle make some fools in your company believe that you have the stars -at more command, than a Haberdasher of dead bodies has his linkmen at a -funeral. This piece of cunning none of the celestial fraternity can -justly blame you for, every artist well knowing a juggler and an -astrologer are as inseperable companions as a bawd and a midwife, or a -lawyer and a knave, for either without the other, like an adjective -without a substantive, would be unable to stand by himself._ - -_Of all the almanacks that are extant, none are so valuable in these -subterranean regions as your own; few hawkers travel into these parts -but they bring whole baskets full along with them, and the cry of_ -Cooley’_s almanack for two months in the year, is as universally bawl’d -about hell’s metropolis, as mackrel among you when they come to be six a -groat, or_ Chichester _lobsters when they stink at midsummer. Of all -the_ almanacks _brought among us, prince_ Lucifer _gives yours the -preference and never goes without one in his pocket, to put him in mind -of an_ Holy Rood _day, that his devilship may not lose his nutting -time. Your last_ English merlin _but one, wanted of the four cardinal -points, for which piece of forgetfulness, the devil in a great rage -cry’d he ow’d you a shame, and I was since inform’d, that one of our -infernal plenipotentiaries upon earth discharg’d his master’s promise in -a short time after, at the_ Darby _alehouse in_ Fulwood’s _rents; by the -same token, the liquor had so eclips’d your distinguishing faculties, -that instead of a tankard of warm ale, that stood by you, you took hold -of the candlestick, and in a drinking posture convey’d the lighted -candle to your mouth, the taste of which was so intolerable to your -lips, that you flung it away in a great passion, believing ’twas the -tankard of drink, and swore the bitch of a wench had made it so scalding -hot there was no drinking it. This unhappy accident occasion’d some -ill-natur’d people to reflect on you, and say, how should you know a -star from a kite-lanthorn, that could not distinguish between a tankard -of warm ale and a lighted candle?_ - -_I have no news from these parts that can be welcome to a man of your -gravity and profession. As for astrologers, they are no more regarded in -this kingdom, than an honest man in your world, or a modest woman in a -theatre, for the best employment that most of them aspire to here, is to -carry a closestool-pan upon their back after a quack-doctor, which -savory receptacle being put in a square case, makes our fraternity look -like so many raree-show men loaded with their boxes of dancing baubles._ - -_I must confess, doctor_ Saffold, _that famous student in physick, -poetry and astrology, whose verse was as good an emetick, as his pills -were a purge, being_ Lucifer’_s peculiar favourite, was advanc’d to the -dignity of being flea catcher to his royal consort; but the other day -had like to have lost his place, by chasing one of his lady’s little -enemies into her_ mount of Venus, _and beating the bush to start the -game, was so wonderfully pleas’d at the pastime, that the old fool could -not forbear laughing, which ill manners so inflam’d the infernal -duchess, that she vow’d, except he would down on his knees and kiss what -he laugh’d at, she would never forgive him; upon which the poor doctor -was forc’d to join beards, or else would have been turned out, to his -eternal shame as well as misery_. - -Albumazar _and_ Ptolomy _are set up like the two loggerheads at St._ -Dunstan’_s church, and once in an hundred years they strike upon an huge -bell the number of the centuries from the fall of_ Lucifer, _that the -devils and the damn’d may know how eternity passes; for you must -imagine, as a quarter of an hour is to the time of your world, so is an -hundred years to the eternity of ours, every watch goes here at least -ten thousand years with but one winding up, for their movements, like -our form and substance, are all spiritual, and the worst artist we have -among us, your_ Fleetstreet Tompion _is but a mere blacksmith to; as for -my own part, I trudg’d for the first six months after Dr._ Ponteus, -_with a steeple-crown’d conveniency, as I mentioned before, but having -always such a stink of_ devil’s-dung _in my nostrils, I petitioned for a -remove, and was admitted to be a yeoman of the bason to_ Lucifer’_s -cloven-hoofs, to pick, wash, and refresh them after his return from -earth, which he visits very often for the preservation of his interest -in the upper world; and the worst inconveniency I find is, that his -worship’s feet smell worse after much walking than a sweating negro’s_. - -_But, however, my old friend, let not this discourse discourage you from -venturing to come among us, or frighten you into a repentance of your -frauds and subtilties, that may carry you another way; for a man of your -merits, learn’d in Astrology from the very nose of the_ great bear, _to -the extreme point of the_ dragon’s tail, _and skilful in the -Mathematicks, from the mensuration of a surface to the most profound -nicety in solid Geometry, need not question, but that your old -acquaintance and assistant_ Satan, _who has faithfully stood by you upon -all occasions, will bestow some reputable post upon you, answerable to -the gravity and skill of so understanding a wiseacre, to whom I -subscribe my self a loving friend and brother_ Philomat. - -LILLY. - - - - -COOLEY’_s Answer to_ LILLY. - - -_SIR_, - -_I would have you to know, I am not so far in my dotage, but I have -reason enough left plainly to discern I am very much affronted in your -ironical letter: as for my part, Mr. mean it as you please, I take it in -good earnest, for it is not consistent with my temper and gravity at -these years, to like such unmannerly jesting. Time was, I was a young -fellow, that would have scolded with a butter-whore, box’d a carman, or -have scribled scurrilously with any_ Lilly _in the universe; but, alas! -when a man has liv’d in this world to the age of near seventy, and has -had familiar conversation with all the foolish women in the town, -puzzled his brains with more angles, circles, squares, pentagons, -hexagons, heptagons, and parallellopipedons_, &c. _than ever has been -yet found in that most famous introduction to the mathematicks, call’d_ -Euclid’s Gimcracks, _pour’d as much_ Derby _ale thro’ his guts every -year as would have fill’d the great fatt at_ Heidelburg, _and -metamorphosed as much tobacco into smoak every month, as would have put -a whole county into a mist; I think ’tis high time for a man to have -done with discord, and begin to compose himself into a little harmony; -therefore I take it ill you should attack me in my old age, especially -when you have Hell on your side, and the devil and all to help you_. - -_What, tho’ I was a joiner at_ Oxford, _and once to shew myself a good -workman, made a cedar close-stool case for the dean of_ Christ-Church, -_I question not but one time or other for the excellency of its work, it -will be carried into the library, and be there preserv’d as a monument -of its maker’s glory to all succeeding ages, when you will have no -remains to put the world in mind of you, but your old conjuring -countenance, painted upon a sign, and hung up over_ Black-friers -_gateway, subscribed with a little paultry poetry, fit for no body’s -reading but a parcel of country hobbies, who have left the plow and the -flayl, to come up to_ London _to be cozen’d out of the fruits of their -labour. It is well known, I was born and educated in a learned air, and -tho’ a man be bred a cobler in that climate, he cannot help being a -scholar, if he but furnish’d with as much brains as will fill a -cockleshell. I confess, I have not had the honour to be entered of a -college, yet by my own chamber-study, without a tutor, having a good -natural genius, I could tell you how many parts of speech there were, by -that time I was eighteen years of age; and I will appeal to the world, -who may judge by my conversation, whether I have not made a wonderful -advancement within these 50 years, insomuch that you may see I dare -write_ Philomath, _in the very title page of my almanack; and -therefore, Mr. am not to be banter’d at these years. You have the -confidence, in several parts of your letter to call me conjurer, tho’ I -must tell you, Mr. by the way, you are the first person that ever -thought me so. ’Tis true, I do sometimes when I am well paid for it, -erect a scheme in search of lost goods, or stray’d cattle, and do -presume_ secundum artem, _to send the querent east, west, north, or -south, a mile or two distance from the loser’s house, to search within -six doors of the sign of the four-footed beast, and if they cannot find -the thief one way, I can send them as far another for a new fee; and all -this I can justify by the rules of Astrology as well as any man; but -must an artist for this be called a conjurer, and by a person too who -has been a professor of the same science? Indeed, old acquaintance, I -take it very unkindly, because you yourself must needs know we are -honest men that deserve no such character. As for my mistaking the -lighted candle for a tankard of hot ale, I remember nothing of the -matter; but_ Bacchus _tho’ he be no planet, yet all men know he has a -great ascendency over us mortals, and what he might influence me to do, -when the light of reason, by which we see to distinguish, was eclipsed, -I know not; but I am morally sure, when my senses are about me I am not -easily to be so deceived; for I presume to know a pig from a dog, or the -difference between a Thing and cartwheel, as well as_ Ptolomy _himself -were he now living_. - -_You say, to my reputation, that my almanacks sell beyond any body’s in -your subterranean country, and that_ Lucifer _himself is never without -one in his pocket: I am very glad to hear he is so much my friend, as to -give mine the preference, and for his civility intend to send him one -next year well gilt on the back, and bound up in calves-leather, by the -hand of some friend or other, that shall swim in_ Derby _ale to the very -gates of his palace; such a wet soul that shall be as welcome as a -shower of rain to your drowthy dominions. The pleasing news you have -sent me is, that my works are so vendible in your parts, for I assure -you, upon your intelligence, I shall raise the price of my copy the next -year; for if my almanacks sell as well in hell as they do upon earth, I -am sure the company of_ Stationers _must get the devil and all by them. -So I rest yours between enmity and friendship._ - -H. COOLEY. - - - - -_From_ TONY LEE _to_ CAVE UNDERHILL. - - -_Brother_ Cave, - -Considering how often you have jested in the grave to please _Betterton_ -prince of _Denmark_, I wonder the grave by this day has not been in -earnest with you, that in process of time, when the churchyard vermin -have feasted themselves upon your cadaver, your own scull may become a -jest to some other grave-digger. I must confess when I left you, you -were a sociable sort of a drunkard, and pretty little peddling sort of a -whoremaster, but I hear since, you have droop’d within a few years into -such a dispirited condition, that ’tis as much as a plentiful dose of -the best canary can do to remove the hyppocon for a few minutes, that -you may entertain your friends with a little of your comick humour, -grac’d with that agreeable smile that has always rendered what you say -delightful, and that it is not in the subtile power of intoxicating -_Nantz_ to add new life to that decay’d member, which has in a manner -taken leave of this world before the rest of your body; you have so -often been used to a grave in your life-time, that I think you never -wanted a _memento mori_ to put you in mind of mortality: death sure can -be no surprize to a merry mortal, who has so often jested with him upon -the stage, and and I long to hear when the grinning skeleton shall shake -you by the hand, and say, _Come, old duke_ Trinculo, _thy last sands are -running, thy ultimate moment is at hand, and the worms are gaping for -thee_. What a jocular answer you will make to the thin-jaw’d -executioner, for every comedian ought to die with a jest in his mouth to -preserve his memory, for if he makes not the audience laugh as he goes -off the stage, he forfeits his character, and his fame dies with his -body; therefore I would advise you to set your wits on work to prepare -yourself, that as you have always liv’d by repeating other peoples wit, -you may not make your exit like a fool, but show you have some remains -of your own juvenile sparklings to oblige the world with at your last -minute. - -I hear the effects of your debaucheries are tumbled into your pedestals, -and make you walk with as much deliberation as Mr. _Cant_ preaches; -when a man is once so founder’d by the iniquity of his life, that his -full speed is no faster than a snail’s gallop, and that his memory and -his members both equally fail him, it is full time that he was travell’d -to his journey’s end; for with what comfort can a man live in the world -when it is grown weary of him? young men I know look upon you as -superannuated, and had rather see a death’s-head and an hour-glass in -their company, than see you make wry faces at your rheumatick twitches, -or hear you banter upon your old gouty pains, and the past causes -thereof between jest and earnest. When a man once comes to answer a -bawdy question over the bottle silently, that is, with a feign’d simper -and a shake of the head, no body cares a fart for him, he is good for -nothing at those years, but, like _Solomon_’s proverbs, to let young men -foresee that worldly pleasures, when they come to be old, are but -_vanity and vexation of spirit_; and to stir up young women to despise -the impotency of old age, which their fumbling fathers in vain admonish -them to reverence. A young comedian is apt to make every body his jest; -but when arriv’d at your years, himself becomes a jest to every body. -Youth gives an air to wit that renders it delightful, but for an old man -to pretend to talk wisely, is like a musician’s endeavouring to fumble -out a fine sonata upon a wind-broach, tho’ the time be good, the -instrument is imperfect, and the organs want that sound which should -give a grace to the harmony. Some men at sixty, are apt to flatter -themselves in publick under the imbecilities of nature, and will -boastingly say, they can do every thing as well as they could at thirty; -but experienced women, who are the best judges of human decay, are too -sensible of their error, and, if modesty would give ’em leave, could -easily demonstrate the difference. I thank my stars, I knew not by -experience the winter of old age, but made my exit in the beginning of -my autumn; but yet I found what nature at midsummer esteem’d a pleasure, -was even then become a drudgery; and what used to be a refreshment to -life, was found but a slavish exercise to the body; therefore I heartily -pity your impotent condition, who has near twenty years surviv’d your -grand climateric, till thou art forc’d to crawl about the world with a -load of diseas’d flesh upon thy back, and art no less than a -sumpter-horse to thy own infirmities. Methinks I see thee creeping upon -the surface of the earth, upon a feeble pair of gouty supporters, thy -loins swath’d up in flannel, leaning upon a crutch-head cane, and -bending towards thy mother earth, who catches thee at every stumble, -sometimes reflecting on the past pleasures of human life, and sometimes -looking forward with imperfect eyes, towards the doubtful state of -immortality, grinning as you walk at the gaiety of youth, and snarling -in thy thoughts at those delights the weakness of thy age has put thee -past enjoying; pursuing only that pleasure, which tho’ thy youth made -vicious, is in age become thy support; that is, the bottle, which in thy -younger days was oft made nauseous by excess; but wise experience now -has taught thee sure to make the darling comfortable by a seasonable -moderation: methinks I see thee use it now with caution, as if you hop’d -by every glass you drank, to strengthen nature’s union, and keep your -soul and body still from separation. - -The ghost of a comedian in these shades is but an useless piece of -immortality, for all the entertainments upon the stages of our infernal -theatres are very tragical, no smile, no merry looks, or monky gestures -us’d by your merry-andrews upon earth to provoke your listning audience -to a laughter, are fashionable in these parts. If you intend to come -among us, you must learn to howl, to grin, and gnash your teeth, unless -you can make yourself so compleat a philosopher as to laugh at your own -misery. Horror, darkness, and despair o’erspread the whole dominion, and -our tyrannical prince is never better pleas’d than when he sees his -subjects the most miserable. As for my part, as merry a representative -of some foolish plebeian as I was in the upper world, I cannot in these -melancholy grottos for the heart of me, frame so much as one chearful -conceit to mitigate those torments, which by virtue of our diabolical -laws are perpetually inflicted upon me: therefore those who betake -themselves to these regions ought to arm themselves with abundance of -resolution; for whoever flinches beneath their pains, do but encrease -their punishment, for which reason I advise you to consider what you -have to trust to, if your journey be downwards; and if you find it in -your power, to divert your coming hither with prayers and tears to -heaven, or else I must tell you in good earnest, you may jest on as I -did, till you die and be damn’d like your humble servant, - -ANTHONY LEE. - - - - -CAVE UNDERHILL’_s Answer to_ TONY LEE. - - -_Honest Friend_ Tony, - -When I first read your letter, as merry as the world thinks me, I was -struck with such a terrible tremulation, that it was as much as three -gulps of my brandy-bottle could do to put my chill’d blood into its -regular motion; I had no sooner recover’d myself, but thinking of death -and the devil, which I had scarce done in sixty years before, I fell -into such an extravagant fit of praying, that if any body had heard me, -they would sooner have guess’d me, by the length of my devotion, to have -been a _Presbyterian_ parson than duke _Trinculo_ the comedian; it was -the first time that ever I found myself in earnest in my life, and I was -suddenly sensible of so vast a difference betwixt that and jesting, that -I believe for a whole hour together I was chang’d from an old comical -merry-andrew, into a new sorrowful penitent and was I to con over your -letter but once in a day, I believe it would go near to fright me into -abundance of religion, which we players, you are sensible, seldom or -never think on, except we are put in mind on’t by some extraordinary -accident; and the main reason I believe why we are not over-burthen’d -with zeal, is our drolling upon the clergy, by representing Mr. -_Spintext_ the preacher, or Mr. _Lovelady_ the chaplain, after a -ridiculous manner for the loose audience to laugh at; which we repeat so -often, till at last we are apt to fancy religion as well as the teachers -of it, to be really no more than what we make them, that is, a meer -jest, and worthy only to be smil’d at and not to be listen’d to. - -Certainly you have a very good intelligence in your world, of the -circumstances of us who dwell above you, or else you are the devil of a -guesser, for you seem in your letter, to have as true a sense of my -condition as if you were an eye-witness of it; for to tell you the truth -on it, I find all the members of my body in such a fumbling condition, -that I begin to think of a leap in the dark, and to wonder what in a -little time will become of me; the people are still pleas’d to see me -crawl upon the stage; indeed the shuffling pace that age and decay hath -brought me to, makes the audience as merry as if it were a counterfeit -gesture to provoke laughter; but, i’faith, brother _Tony_, that which -makes them glad makes me sad, insomuch, that my heart has aked every -time these five years, when I have play’d the sexton in _Hamlet_, for -fear when I am once got into the grave, the grim tyrant should give me a -turn over the perch, and keep me there for jesting with mortality. - -Nature, which finds herself declining in me, is so greedy of new breath, -that I gape as I crawl for the benefit of the fresh air, as if I was -jaw-fallen, and those humming insects that are a pestiferous calamity -this hot weather to all cooks-shops and sugar-bakers, are so unmannerly, -that they fly over those few palisadoes of my breathing-hole that are -left, and dung t’other side the pails, as if they took my mouth for a -house of office; nay, sometimes in creeping along the length of a -street, I have had my tongue so fly-blown, that had I not gone into a -tavern and wash’d them off with a pint of canary, I don’t know, but my -whole head might have been as full of maggots in a little time, as a -sheep’s arse at _Midsummer_. - -I find the greatest curse of my old age is, my desire surviving my -capacity, for I protest, my inclinations are as youthful as ever, tho’ -my ability is quite superannuated. - -I am just now entring into a fit of the gout, which so terrifies me, -that I pray one half minute, and curse the other, like a true bred -seaman in a storm, therefore am forc’d to break off, blood and wounds, -abruptly. - -_So farewel_, - -CAVE UNDERHILL. - - - - -_From Alderman_ BLACKWELL _to Sir_ CHARLES DUNCOMBE. - - -Hearing what a noisy reputation you have acquir’d within the walls of -_England_’s metropolis, and what a popular rumble your politick -generosity makes over the heads of us, out of whose ruins you have, true -citizen like, erected your own welfare, I could no longer forbear -putting you in mind of some of your former managements, left some -rakehelly rhime-tagger or other, should flatter you to believe you have -honesty and integrity enough to qualify you for a bishop; I took you a -meer bumkin, and taught you your trade for a basket of turky-eggs, and -therefore it highly concerns your prudence to consider the obligation -you lie under of carrying yourself to the world with all humility, tho’ -aspir’d to the very pinnacle of prosperity, since the first cause of -your advancement dropp’d out of the fundament of a turkey: the eggs, as -an argument of their being new laid, I remember were besmeared with -excrementitious tokens of good luck, which make me fancy, when I -received them, they were beshitten omens of your future fortune, in -whose behalf they were presented me. - -Birds have often shew’d their tenderness and compassion to mankind: -eagles have preserv’d infants in their nests, who have afterwards become -singularly prosperous in the ages they have liv’d in. _Sappho_ rais’d -himself to the reputation of a God among the _Persians_ by parrots, and -yourself to the grandeur of an alderman by your mother’s hen turkies: -for in all wonderful effects the leading cause ought to be reverenc’d -and respected. - -Nothing conduces more to the rise and riches of a citizen, than these -three qualifications; nor can a man be a compleat trader without them: -_First_, To be a hypocrite undiscernably: _Secondly_, A knave, and not -mistrusted: And _Thirdly_, To be diligent in all matters that concern -his own interest. These profitable talents I must needs confess you are -absolute master of, and managed them with that admirable cunning, that I -always conceiv’d a different opinion of you, till I had given it -irrevocably into your power to feather your own nest, by compleating of -my ruin; and like a true politician (I thank you) you made an excellent -use of the lucky opportunity: for when the vicissitude of fortune had -put my affairs in a little disorder, and I thought it best for the -safety of my person to take foreign sanctuary, what friendly protections -did you make, from the teeth outwards, of the faithful service you -would do me in my absence, in order to compose and settle matters after -such a manner, that all the difficulties should be remov’d and made -easy, that had lessen’d my credit, and occasion’d me to withdraw? Upon -which, I being too forward to believe a person, I had rais’d from -sheep-skin breeches, and leathern shoe-ties, to the substance and -reputation of a topping citizen, could never forget the obligation he -lay under to do me justice, as to prove treacherous to his master, -trusted you alone with my whole effects, and the sole power of managing -my affairs according to your own discretion: but you, like a faithful -steward, when my back was turn’d, instead of endeavouring to support my -declining reputation, lessen’d my circumstances to my creditors far -beneath their real estimate, till you had bought up my notes to the sum -of a hundred thousand pounds, for an eighth part of their value, on your -own behalf, with the ready specie I had left you to compound my matters; -and like an honest man return’d them upon me at their full contents, -cheating my creditors of seven parts in eight of their due, sinking the -money to yourself, and leaving, like an ungrateful wretch, the kindest -of all masters to die a beggar; in this, I say, you shew’d yourself a -compleat citizen: _First_, A hypocrite in dissembling friendship to me: -_Secondly_, A knave, in cheating me and my creditors; And _Thirdly_, An -industrious man, in diligently converting so fair an opportunity so -foully to your own interest. - -Upon this basis (when downright knavery, according to the city phrase -was term’d outwitting) you rais’d a popular esteem to yourself for being -a wealthy man, and a cunning one, and as I have since heard, daily -improv’d your riches as honestly as you got it; and by changing broad -money into less, made your sums the larger: a pretty sort of a paradox, -that a man by diminution should raise an increase: but the deed was -darker than the saying, yet both very intelligible to money’d citizens -in the age you live in. It is no great wonder, if rightly consider’d, -that a man of your dealing should acquire such vast riches, since you -were so well belov’d by your under agents, that scarce a sessions pass -for seven years together, but one or other was hanged for the -propagation of your interest, whilst yourself stood secure behind a -bulwark of full bags, that skreen’d your person from the law, and your -reputation from the danger of common slander. - -Another fortunate opportunity you had of heaping more muck upon your -fertile possessions, and manuring those mighty sums you had before -collected, was the misfortunes of your prince, which largely contributed -(as you honestly order’d the matter) to your further prosperity. -Fourscore thousand pounds more added to your preceeding stock, was, -indeed, enough to make a reasonable man contented; but as nothing less -than the conquest of the whole world could satisfy the ambition of -_Alexander_; so nothing, I am apt to think, but the riches of the -universe, can quench the unbounded avarice of so aspiring a _Crœsus_. -But oh the disappointments that attend the proud and wealthy! what -signifies three hundred thousand pounds to an ambitious alderman, if he -cannot take a peaceable nod in his elbow-chair of state, and be -registered in the city-annals, lord-mayor of _London_, that posterity -may read _Duncombe_ and his turkies were as much renowned in the age -they liv’d in, as _Whittington_ and his cat? I am heartily sorry (since -fortune’s favours, and your own indefatigable knavery, have so happily -concurr’d to make you rich) that the electors of the city would not also -agree to make you honourable; and that your oracle of time, that publick -monument of your generosity, with your promise of a mansion-house for -the city-magistrate, and the twelve apostles to be elevated at the -east-end of St. _Paul_’s, will not all prevail upon the livery-men of -_London_ to chuse you into the trust and dignity, which would very -highly become a person of your worth, honour, and integrity. But, as I -well remember, one of the eggs was rotten, which I have since reflected -on, and think it reasonable to judge, if there be any divination by -eggs, that it predicted your hopes would be addled in this very affair; -and do therefore advise you for the future, to decline all thoughts of -the mayoralty. I am very well pleas’d that you deal barefac’d to the -world in one particular, which is, that tho’ you keep a chaplain in your -house to feed your ears with a few minc’d instructions, yet you -entertain two mistresses publickly in your family, to reduce the -rebellious flesh into an orderly subjection; from whence your neighbours -may see, in matters of religion you are no hypocrite, but openly do -that which more secret sinners would be asham’d to be caught in, who -perhaps are full as wicked, tho’ they hide their vices with a sanctify’d -coverslut, whilst you professing not much religion, scorn to make so ill -a use as a cloak, of that little you are bless’d with. - -I fear you are grown too bulky in estate to be long-liv’d in prosperity, -you are a well-fed fish to be caught nibbling at the bait, and abundance -of great men are angling for you; if you are once hamper’d by the hook, -you will not shake yourself off easily: and methinks it’s pity a man -that, I have some reason to say, has got an estate knavishly, should -ever run the hazard of losing it foolishly; but preserve it according to -the custom of the city, to build an alms-house after your decease, that -may maintain about the thousandth part of as many people when he is -dead, as he has cheated when he was living. - -_So farewel_, - -BLACKWELL. - - - - -_The Answer to Alderman_ BLACKWELL. - - -_SIR_, - -Who would ever be a servant, if it were not for the hopes of being at -one time or other as good a man as his master? It’s the thoughts of -bettering our own conditions without danger, that makes a man submit -with patience to a servile subjection: but he that can govern his -master, will never truly obey him; and he that finds he can outwit him, -will be no longer his fool. Nature made us freemen alike, and gave us -the whole world to seek our fortunes in; and he that by either wit, -strength or industry, can straddle over the back of another, has the -riding him for his pains. If one man that is poor, worms a rich man out -of his estate, it is but changing condition with one another, and the -world in general is not a jot the worse for it: besides, in most mens -opinions, he best deserves an estate that has cunning enough to get one, -and wit enough to keep it when he has got it. I know no injustice but -what is punishable by the laws of the land; and if I can acquire an -estate, tho’ fifty men starve for it, that the laws will protect me in, -I think myself as rightfully possess’d as any man in the kingdom: he -that is bubbled out of an estate will certainly fall under the character -of a fool; and he that gets one will be as surely suspected for a knave; -no man enjoys the reputation of an honest man, but he who bribes the -world by courtesies into that opinion of him; and he who, like myself, -scorns to be at the charge of purchasing on’t, shall be sure never to -enjoy the character. Honesty and courage may be said to stand upon one -bottom, for all men would derogate from both, and be knaves and cowards -if they durst; for its the fear of being piss’d upon by every body, that -makes men fight soberly; and the fear of punishment that makes men live -honestly; yet a politick coward often passes for a brave man for want of -being try’d; and an arrant knave, for want of opportunity for a very -honest fellow. - -You blame me for building my own welfare out of your ruin, and charge me -with knavery for taking the advantage of your folly; I am of that old -opinion, that all mankind are either fools or knaves; and it is a maxim -in my politicks, that he who will not be a knave, the world will make a -fool of him. One man’s oversight is always another’s gain. How then can -you condemn me for laying hold of that opportunity, which your weakness -gave me as a tryal of my wit? and had I neglected making a true use of -it to my own advantage, I had made myself a greater fool than he who -trusted a single man’s honesty with so large a temptation. Could you -have kept your estate in your own power, how great was your indiscretion -to deliver it into mine? and since I found, when I had it in my custody, -I could secure it to myself, beyond the power of the law to recover it, -how foolish shou’d I have been to have omitted the opportunity? in -short, I am very well satisfyed at the usage I gave you, no check of -conscience do I yet find that inclines me to repentance; but am heartily -resolv’d, thro’ the course of my life, never to let slip so luscious an -advantage. - -As for my sorting of broad-money for the royal snippers, it was grown so -universal a practice among all dealers, that it ceas’d from being -thought criminal, and became a profitable trade; and I never was so -lazy in my life, as to suffer any project to be on foot, wherein money -was to be got, but I always had a hand in’t. The _Hollanders_ clipp’d it -openly in their shops, and pass’d it afterwards among us. And shall we -suffer a foreign nation to ingross that advantage to themselves, which -was doubtless rather the property of a true-born _Englishman_ to enjoy? -no I am a true lover of my country, and do assert, it’s better to be -rogues among our selves, and cozen one another, than it is to be cheated -in our own way by a pack of knavish neighbours. - -As for my master king _James_, I dealt honestly by him as long as he -continued my customer; but truly when his credit was sunk, and he was -forc’d to take sanctuary in a foreign country, my conscience told me -’twas the safest way, even to serve my prince as I had done you my -master; for indeed, I could not reasonably think; providence flung so -many lucky hits in a man’s way for him to make no use of; besides, what -signifies cozening a king of a trifling sum of fourscore thousand pound, -when he was going into a country where every body knew he would be well -provided for? I consider’d it would do me more kindness by half; and -tho’ some of his friends blam’d me, yet I thought myself an honester man -by much, than those who stripp’d him of his sovereignty; for if it was a -sin to cheat him at all, then those who cheated him most were doubtless -the most wicked; and to deal with you like an old friend, without -dissimulation, as long as I can imagine there’s a man upon earth more -sinful than myself I have a conscience that can fling nothing in my -face, but what I can withstand boldly without blushing. - -You seem to highly reflect upon me for keeping two domestick -conveniences publickly in my family, as if a man of my grandeur should -abridge himself of those pleasures which every apprentice-boy has the -enjoyment of between the mistress and the maid, without stirring over -the threshold; and sure an Alderman in the city, a grave magistrate, a -man worth three hundred thousand pounds, need not be either afraid or -asham’d of being suspected guilty of that little sniveling sin practis’d -daily in every citizen’s house, from the very beds in the garret, down -to the stools in the kitchen. Why, at that rate you would muzzle ones -appetite, a man had better by half be a presbyterian parson, and have -two or three pair of holy sisters to smuggle over every week, than to be -an alderman of the city of _London_, and have his carnal inclinations -priest-ridden with a curb-bridle. - -As for the fair promises I made to the city in order to have coaks’d -them to have chose me mayor, I design’d them only as alluring baits to -tempt the godly party over to my interest, and in the common hall it -took very good effect; but had I once got into the chair, I should have -shew’d them a trick like Sir _Timber Temple_, and have reduc’d my -mountain-promise into a mole-hill performance; which our cunning -fraternity mistrusting (for always set a knave to catch a knave) by a -piece of unpracticable subtilty they threw me out, when I thought myself -as cock-sure of the honour as a man is of a morsel he has got in his -mouth: but the city is so corrupted, that an honest church-man can put -no confidence in a parcel of knavish fanaticks, but he is sure to be -deceiv’d. Had the church party been strong enough to have brought me in, -I had then caught what I gap’d for, as sure as there’s a cuckhold in -_Guild-Hall_ in the time of election: but knowing our court of wiseakers -was at that time under the ascendency of a whiggish planet, I was -fearful I should lose it; but they had better have chose me, for I -assure them, I would sooner go into _Barbary_ and feed ostriches with my -money, than I would lay out one groat towards so much as the repairing -of one of their old gates, or in adding any thing to the city’s -magnificence, tho’ ’twas no more than a weather-cock: nay I have now so -little charity for that ingrateful _Sodom_, that I would not be at the -expence of giving them an engine, tho I was sure ’twould save them a -second conflagration. - -I fear, Sir, by this time I have quite tired your patience, and shall -therefore conclude with this acknowledgment, that I liv’d under one of -the best princes in the world, and one of the best masters in the -kingdom, and that under both, I thank my stars, I have patch’d up a -pretty good fortune, and I profess, as I am a christian of the true -church by law establish’d, I would turn subject to the _Grand Seignior_, -and servant to alderman _Lucifer_, to enjoy again two such precious -opportunities. _So I rest, with a quiet Conscience, your thankful -Servant_, - -CHARLES DUNCOMBE. - - - - -_From_ HENRY PURCEL _to Dr._ BLOW. - - -_Dear Friend_, - -To tell you the truth, I send you this letter on purpose to undeceive -you; I know that the upper world has a notion, that these infernal -shades are destitute of all harmony, and delight in nothing but jarring, -discord, and confusion; upon the word of a musician, you are all -mistaken, for I never came into a merrier country, since I knew a whimsy -from a fiddle-stick; every body here sings as naturally as a -nightingale, and at least as sweet. Lovers sit perch’d upon bows by -pairs, like murmuring turtles in a rural grove, and in amorous ditties -sing forth their passionate affections; all people on this side the -adamantine gates have their organs perfect, and _I burn, I burn, I -burn_, which some persons thought a critical song upon earth, is here -sung by every scoundrel: the whole infernal territory is infested with -such innumerable crowds of poets and musicians, that a man can’t stir -twice his length, but he shall tread upon a new ballad; and as for -musick, ’tis so plenty amongst us, that a fellow shall be scraping upon -a fiddle at every garret-window, and another tinkling a spinet, or a -virginal, in every chimney-corner; flutes, hautboys and trumpets are so -perpetually tooting, that all the year round the whole dominion is like -a _Bartholomew-Fair_; and as for drums, you have a set of them under -every devil’s window, rattling and thumping like a consort of his -majesty’s rat-tat-too’s at an _English_ wedding: we have such a glut of -all sorts of performers, that our very ears are surfeited; and any body -may hire a consort for a day, large enough to surround -_Westminster-Abbey_, for the price of an hundred of chesnuts; yet every -minstrel performs to admiration. Every cobler here that dispatches a -voluntary whilst he’s waxing his thread, shall out-sing Mr. _Abel_, and -a carpenter shall make better musick upon an empty cupboard strung with -five brass-wires, than _Baptist_ can upon the harpsichord; every trumpet -that attends a botkin lottery, sounds better than _Shore_; and not a -porter here plies at the corner of a street, but with his stubbed -fingers, can make a smooth table out grunt the harmony of a double -curtel. We have catches too in admirable perfection: Fish-women sit and -sing them at market, instead of scolding as they do at _Billingsgate_; -hymns and anthems are as frequent among us as among you of the upper -world; for to every church God Almighty has on earth, here the devil has -a chapel. - -You are sensible I was a great lover of musick before I departed my -temporal life, but now I am so surfeited with incessant sound, that I -would rather chuse to be as deaf as an adder, than be plagu’d with the -best _ayre_ that ever _Corelli_ made, or the finest _sola_ or _sonata_ -that ever was compos’d in _Italy_: for you must know the laws of this -country are such, that every man, for sins in the other world, shall -here be punish’d with excess of that which he there esteem’d most -pleasant and delightful. Lovers, that in your region would hang, or -drown, or run thro’ fire like a couple of salamanders for one another’s -company, are here coupled together like the twins _Castor_ and _Pollux_, -pursuant to their own wishes upon earth, and have all the liberty they -can desire with one another, but must never be separated whilst eternity -endures. This sort of confinement, tho’ ’tis what they once coveted, -makes them so sick of one another in a little time, that they cry out, O -damnable slavery! O diabolical matrimony! and are always drawing two -several ways with all imaginable hatred, endeavouring, to break their -fetters, and pursue variety; thus every one is wedded to what they like -best, and yet every person’s desires teminate in their own misery, which -sufficiently shews there is no other justice to punish us for our -follies, than the objects of our own loose appetites and inclinations; -for that which we are apt to covet most when we are in the upper world, -generally, if obtain’d, proves our greatest unhappiness; therefore, -since experience would not teach us to bridle our inclinations on the -other side the grave, the pleasures we pursued when we were living, are, -after death, appointed to be our punishments. - -Dr. _Stag----s_, is greatly improved since he arrived in these parts, -and has more crotches flow thro’ his brains in one minute, than he can -digest into musick in a whole week; he had not been here a month, but -his bandylegs stepp’d into a very good place, and his business is to -compose _Scotch_ tunes for _Lucifer_’s bag-piper. Honest _Tom Farmer_ -has taken such an antipathy against musick, upon hearing a _French_ -barber play _Banister_’s ground in _Bmi_, upon a jews-trump, that he -swears that the hooping of a tub, and filing of a saw, makes the -sweetest harmony in christendom; _Robin Smith_, is still as love-mad as -ever he was; hangs half a dozen fiddles at his girdle, as the fellow -does coney-skins, and scours up and down hell, crying a _Reevs_, a -_Reevs_, as is the devil was in him. Poor _Val Redding_ too, is quite -tired with his lyre-way-fiddle, and has betaken himself to be a -merry-andrew to a _Dutch_ mountebank; and the reason he gave for it was -this, That he was got into a country where he found fools were more -respected than fiddlers. Dancing-masters are also as numerous in every -street, as posts in _Cheapside_, there is no walking but we must stumble -upon them; they are held here but in very slight esteem, for the gentry -call them leg-livers, and the mob from their mighty number, and their -nimbleness, call them the devil’s grass-hoppers. Players run up and down -muttering of old speeches, like so many madmen in their own soliloquies; -and if any beau wants a bridge to bear him over a dirty channel, a -player lies down instead of a plank, for him to walk over upon; the -reason why they were doom’d to that piece of scandalous servitude, was, -because they were as proud upon the stage as the very princes they -represented; and as humble in a brandy-shop, as a scold in a -ducking-stool; therefore were fit for nothing when they had done -playing, but to be trampled upon. I have nothing further at present to -impart to you, so begging you to excuse this trouble, _I rest_, - -_Your Humble Servant_, - -HENRY PURCEL. - - - - -_Dr._ BLOW’_s Answer to_ HENRY PURCEL. - - -_Dear Friend_, - -Your letter was one of the greatest surprises to me, I ever met with; -for after giving credit to that fulsome piece of flattery, stuck up by -some of your friends upon a pillar behind the organ, which you once were -master of, I remain’d satisfi’d you were gone to that happy place, where -your own harmony could only be exceeded, and had left order with some of -your friends to put up that epitaph only as a direction where your -acquaintance upon occasion might be sure to meet with you; but since you -have favour’d me with a letter from your own hand, wherein you assure me -’twas your fortune to travel a quite contrary road, I will always be of -opinion for the future, that when a man takes a step in the dark, those -that he leaves behind him can no more guess where he is gone, than I can -tell what’s become of the saddle which _Balaam_ rid upon when his ass -spoke; for I find just as people please or displease us in this world, -we accordingly assign them a place of happiness or unhappiness in the -next, virtue shall be rewarded, and vice punished hereafter, ’tis true, -but when or how, I believe every man knows as well as the pope; -therefore, many people have blam’d the inscription of your marble, and -think it a presumption in the pen-man to be so very positive in matters, -which the wisest of mankind, without death, can come to no true -knowledge of. The fanaticks especially are very highly offended at it, -and say, It looks as if a man could toot himself to heaven upon the -whore of _Babylon_’s bag-pipes, and that religion consists only in the -true setting of a catch, or composing of a madrigal. I have had many a -bitter squabble with them in defence of your epitaph, upon which they -scoffingly advis’d me to get Monsieur _d’Urfey_ to tag it with rhime, -then myself to garnish it with a tune, and so make it a catch in -imitation of _Under this stone lies Gabriel John_, &c. which unlucky -saying, so dum-founded me, that I was forc’d silently to submit, because -you had serv’d another person’s epitaph after the same manner. - -I have no novelties to entertain you with relating to either the _Abbey_ -or St. _Paul_’s, for both the choirs continue just as wicked as they -were when you left them; some of them daily come reeking hot out of the -bawdy-house into the church; and others stagger out of a tavern to -afternoon prayers, and hick up over a little of the _Litany_, and so -back again. Old _Claret-face_ beats time still upon his cushion -stoutly, and sits growling under his purple canopy, a hearty -old-fashion’d base that deafens all about him. Beau _Bushy-whig_ -preserves his voice to a miracle, charmes all the ladies over against -him with his handsome face; and all over head with his singing. Parson -_Punch_ make a very good shift still, and lyricks over his part in an -anthem very handsomly. So much for the church, and now for the -play-houses, which are grown so abominably wicked since the pious -society have undertook to reform them, that not a member of the -fraternity will sit down to his dinner, till he has repeated over a -catalogue of curses upon the crew of sin-sucking hypocrites, as long as -a presbyterian grace, then falls to with a good appetite, and damns them -as heartily after dinner; nor will they bring a play upon the stage, -unless larded with half a dozen of luscious bawdy songs in contempt of -the reforming authority, some writ by Mr. _C_---- and set by your friend -Dr. _B_----; others writ by Mr. _D_----, and set by your friend Mr. -_E_----: you know men of our profession hang between the church and the -play-house, as _Mahomet_’s tomb does between the two load-stones, and -must equally incline to both, because by both we are equally supported. - -Religion is grown a stalking-horse to every bodies interest, and every -man chuses to be of that faith which he finds to be most profitable. Our -parochial-churches this hot weather are but indifferently fill’d, but -our cathedrals are still crowded as they us’d to be, because to one that -comes thither truly to serve God, fifty come purely to hear the musick; -the blessing of peace has again quite forsaken us, and the people tired -with being happy, have drawn the curse of war upon their own heads; and -the clergy, like true christians, confound their enemies heartily. Money -begins already to be as scarce as truth, honour and honesty; and a man -may walk from _Ludgate_ to _Aldgate_, near high change-time, and not -meet a citizen with a full bag under his arm, or jot of plain-dealing in -his conscience. The ready specie lies all in the _Bank_ and _Exchequer_, -and most traders estates lie in their pocket-books and their comb-cases: -paper goes current instead of cash, and pen and ink does us more service -than the mines in the _Indies_. I am very much in arrears upon the -account of my business, as well as the brethren of my quality; but -whether we shall be paid in this world or the next, we are none of us -yet certain. You made a timely step out of a troublesome world, could I -imagine you were got into a worse, I could easily pin my faith upon -impossibilities; but fare as you will, it cannot be long e’er I shall -give you my company, and discover the truth of that which our priests -talk so much of, and know so little: - -_Till then I rest yours_, - -BLOW. - - - - -_From worthy Mrs._ BEHN _the Poetress, to the famous Virgin Actress_. - - -_Madam_, - -I vow to Gad, lady, of all the fair sex that ever occupied their -faculties upon the publick stage, I think your pretty self the only -miracle! for a woman to cloak the frailties of nature with such -admirable cunning as you have done hitherto, merits, in my opinion, the -wonder and applause of the whole kingdom! how many chaste _Diana_’s in -your station have lost their reputation before they have done any thing -to deserve it! but for a woman of your quality first to surrender her -honour, and afterwards preserve her character, shows a discreet -management beyond the policy of a statesman: your appearance upon the -stage puts the court-ladies to the blush, when they reflect that a -mercenary player should be more renown’d for her virtue, than all the -glorious train of fair spectators; who, like true women, hear your -praises whisper’d with regret, and behold your person with insupportable -envy. The _Roman_ empress _Messalina_ was never half so famous for her -lust, as you are for your chastity; nor the most christian king’s -favourite, madam _Maintenon_, more eminent for her parts, than you are -for your cunning; for nothing is a greater manifestation of a woman’s -conduct, than for her to be vicious without mistrust, and to gratify her -looser inclinations without discovery; at which sort of managements you -are an absolute artist, as since my departure I have made evident to -myself, by residing in those shades where the secrets of all are open; -for peeping by chance into the breast of your old acquaintance, where -his sins were as plainly scor’d as tavern-reckonings upon a bare-board; -there did I behold, among his numberless transgressions, your name -register’d so often in the black list, that fornication with madam -B---- came so often into the score, that it seem’d to me like a chorus at -the end of every stanza in an old ballad: besides had I wanted so -manifest a proof, as by chance I met with, experience has taught me to -judge of my own sex to a perfection, and I know the difference there is -between being really virtuous and only accounted so: I am sensible ’tis -as hard a matter for a pretty woman to keep herself honest in a theatre, -as ’tis for an apothecary to keep his treacle from the flies in hot -weather; for every libertine in the audience will be buzzing about her -honey-pot, and her virtue must defend itself by abundance of fly-flaps, -or those flesh-loving insects will soon blow upon her honour, and when -once she has had a maggot in her tail, all the pepper and salt in the -kingdom will scare keep her reputation from stinking; therefore that -which makes me admire your good housewifery, above all your sex, is, -that notwithstanding your powdering-tub, has been so often polluted, yet -you have kept your flesh in such credit and good order that the nicest -appetite in the town would be glad to make a meal of it. - -You must excuse me, _Madam_, that I am thus free with you, for you know -’tis the custom of our sex to take all manner of liberty with one -another, and to talk smuttily, and act waggishly when we are by -ourselves, tho’ we scarce dare listen to a merry tale in man’s company -for fear of being thought impudent. You know the bob-tail’d monster is a -censorious creature, and if we should not be cunning enough to cast a -mist before the eyes of their understanding sometimes there would be no -living among them; and therefore I cannot but highly commend you for -your prudence in covering all your vicious inclinations by an -hypocritical deportment: for how often have we heard men say, tho’ a -woman be a whore, yet they love she should carry herself modestly? that -is as much as to say, they love to be cheated, and you know, _Madam_, we -can hit their humours in that particular to a hairs-breadth, and convey -one man away from under our petticoats to make room for another, with as -much dexterity as the _German_ artist does his balls, that the keenest -eye in _Christendom_ shall not discern the juggle, for a woman ought to -be made up of all chinks and crannies, that when a man searches for any -thing he should not find, she may shuffle about her secrets so, that the -devil can’t discover them, or else she’s fit only to make a sempstress -on, and can never be rightly qualified for intriguing. I have just now -the rememberance of a few female stratagems crept into my head, which -were practised by a pretty lady of my acquaintance, perhaps, _Madam_, if -they are not stale to you, you may make them of some service hereafter; -therefore in hopes of obliging you, I shall acquaint you with the -particulars. - -I happen’d long since in the time of my youth, when powerful nature -prompted me to delight in amorous adventures, to contract a friendship -with a fair lady, who for her wit and beauty, was often times solicited -by the male sex to help make up that beast of pleasure with two backs, -and hating to submit herself to the tyrannical government of a single -person, never wanted a whole parliament of nipples to give her suck, -tho’ she flatter’d one man that kept her, to believe he was sole monarch -of the _Low-Countries_; but one time he unfortunately happen’d to catch -her, with a new relation, of whom he was a little jealous, believing for -some reasons he had an underhand design of liquoring his boots for him, -to prevent which he impos’d an oath of abjuration upon his mistress, and -made her swear for the future to renounce the sight of him, which to -oblige her keeper, she very readily consented to, but no sooner was his -back turn’d, but she had invented a salve for her conscience, as well as -her concupiscence, and dispatching a letter to her new lover, told him -what had pass’d, but withal, encourag’d him to renew his visits at such -opportunities as she informed him were convenient; at the time appointed -her spark came, she received him with a blind compliment, and told him, -she would open any thing but her eyes to oblige him; but those she must -keep shut for her oath’s sake, having sworn never to see him if she -could help it. The gentleman was very well satisfied he had so -conscientious a lady to deal with: love, _Madam_, says he, is always -blind, and for my part, I shall be content to enjoy the darkest of your -favours; upon which he began vigorously to attack love’s fortress, which -you know, _Madam_, has no mere eyes than a beetle; as she told me the -story, he was beat off three times, and at last was forc’d to draw off -his forces, so march’d off to raise recruits against the next -opportunity. The next day came the governour of the garrison, as he -foolishly thought himself, and made a strict enquiry whether she had any -correspondence with the enemy? lord, Sir, says she, what do you take me -to be? a devil; as I hope to be sav’d, I never set eyes of him since you -engag’d me to the contrary: so all things past off as well as if no evil -had been acted. - -The next fresh acquaintance she contracted, she would never suffer to -wait upon her at her lodgings, other ways dress’d than in female -apparel; so when a new fit of jealousy put her spark upon purging her -conscience upon oath, as I have a soul to be sav’d, says she, no -creature in breeches but yourself has been near me since you had -knowledge of it; therefore why, my dear, should you harbour such ill -thoughts of a woman that loves you as dearly as I do my beads and -crucifix? thus, tho’ she deceiv’d him as often as she had opportunity, -yet her discretion kept all things in such admirable decorum, that I -never knew any of the fair sex, except yourself, like her. - -If it were not for these witty contrivances, subtle shifts and evasions, -which we are forc’d to use to keep the male sex easy, a pretty or an -ingenious woman, to make one happy must make twenty miserable; or wit -and beauty are never without abundance of admirers; and if such a woman -were to sacrifice all her charms to the miserly temper of one single -lover, the rest must run distracted, and at this rate the whole world in -a short time would become one great _Bedlam_; besides, since there is -enough to make all happy, if prudently dispens’d, I know no reason why -one man should engross more than he is able to deal with, and other men -want that, which by using there can be no miss of; therefore I commend -you for the liberty you take to oblige your chosen friends, and the -prudence you use to conceal it from the envious number you think -unworthy of your smiles; so with this advice I shall conclude, if you -have twenty gallants that taste your favours in their turns, let no man -know he has a rival-sharer in the happiness, but swear to every one -a-part, none enjoys you but himself; and by this means you will oblige -the whole herd, and make yourself easy in their numerous embraces. - -A. BEHN. - - - - -_The Virgin’s Answer to Mrs._ BEHN. - - -It is no great wonder to me you should prove so witty, since so many -sons of _Parnassus_, instead of climbing the _Heliconian_ hill, should -stoop so low, as to make your _mount of Venus_ the barren object of -their poetick fancies: I have heard some physicians say, the sweet -fornication draws mightily from the brain; for which reason, it is more -affected with the pleasure than any other part of the body; if so, how -could the spirit of poesy be otherwise than infus’d into you, since you -always gain’d by what the fraternity of the Muses lost in your embraces? -you were the young poets _Venus_; to you they paid their devotion as a -Goddess, and their first adventure, when they adjourn’d from the -university to the town, was to solicite your favours; and this advantage -you enjoy’d above the rest of your sex, that if a young student was but -once infected with a rhiming itch, you by a butter’d bun could make him -an establish’d poet at any time; for the contagion, like that of a worse -distemper, will run a great way, and be often strangely contracted. I -have heard a gentleman say, that when he was bedded with a poetess, or -rival’d a poet in his mistress, that he has dreamt of nothing but plays, -ballads and lampoons for six months after; and has been forc’d to -cuckold a critick, before he could get cur’d of the distemper. From -hence it appears, that a man in his sober senses runs a greater hazard -of his brains in having familiar contract with a daughter of the -_Muses_, than a drunken man does of his nobler parts, in paving the -common-shore of a town prostitute. - -You upbraid me with a great discovery you chanc’d to make, by peeping -into the breast of an old friend of mine; if you give yourself but the -trouble of examining an old poet’s conscience, who went lately off the -stage, and now takes up his lodgings in your territories, and I don’t -question, but you’ll there find, Mrs. _Behn_ writ as often in black -characters, and stands as thick in some places, as the names of the -generation of _Adam_ in the first of _Genesis_. But oh! that I had but -one glance into your own accounts; there I am sure, should I find a -compleat register of all the poets of your standing, from the _Laureat_, -down to the _White-Fryars_ ballad-monger: at this rate, well might you -be esteem’d a female wit, since the least return your versifying -admirers could make you for your favours, was, first to lend you their -assistance, and then oblige you with their applause: besides, how could -you do otherwise than produce some wit to the world, since you were so -often plough’d and sow’d by the kind husbandmen of _Apollo_? but give me -leave, _Madam_, to tell you, after all your amorous intrigues to please -the taglines of the age, and all the fatigue of your brains to oblige a -fickle audience, I never could yet hear that your reputation ever soar’d -above the character of a bawdy poetess; and these were the two knacks -you were chiefly happy in, one was to make libertines laugh, and the -other to make modest women blush; and had you happen’d to have liv’d in -a reforming age, under the lash of Mr. _C----r_, he would have so -firk’d you about the pig-market, that you must have learn’d to have writ -more modestly, or he would have been apt to have said, you certainly -thinn’d your ink with your own water, or you could never have writ so -bawdily. - -You seem almost to think it an indispensible difficulty for a woman in -my quality to preserve her reputation, especially if she has done any -thing to deserve the loss of it; I say, a prudent woman may do it with -all the facility imaginable, by keeping up to a few maxims in female -policy, which few woman are strangers to. _First_, Were I to give myself -liberty (as whether I do or no is no matter to any body) I would always -bestow my favours upon those above me, and those beneath me, and never -be concern’d with any man upon an equal footing; and these are my -reasons: Suppose the vitious eyes of a great man are fix’d upon me, and -my charms should kindle a love-passion in the cockles of his heart; he -writes, chatters, swears and prays, according to custom in such cases, -I still defend the premisses, by a flat verbal denial; but at the same -instant incourage him in my looks, and am always free to oblige him with -my company; till by this sort of usage I make him sensible downright -courtship will never prevail; and that the cittadel he besieges is not -to be surrender’d without bribing the governess: then he begins to mix -his fine words with fine presents; he gives, I receive, returning a side -glance for a diamond ring, two smiles for a gold watch, a kiss for a -pearle necklace, and at last for a round sum the ultimate of my favours; -of which, in one months time, he is as much tir’d, as a child is of a -_Bartholomew_ knick-knack, and so we seperate again, both fully -satisfied: in this case, I say, a woman’s reputation is pretty safe; for -if he has any brains, he will be afraid to discover I have been his -bedfellow, lest I should tell the world he has been my bubble; for he -can’t help believing, if he had never been my fool, I had never been his -mistress. - -In the next place, why I would rather submit to make a friend of an -inferior, than an equal; I think these reasons are sufficient; if I -oblige a man beneath me, he looks upon my condescention to be his -greatest honour; and ’tis but now and then furnishing his pockets with a -little spending money, and he’ll drudge like a stone-horse to give me a -competent refreshment; not only that, but he’ll lie for me, swear for -me, fight for me, and be always speaking in praise of my virtues upon -every occasion; my mixing his pleasure with profit, makes it so much the -sweeter, and engages him to give my favours a more diligent attendance. -I can govern, comand, expect, and make him more my slave than a woman is -to her keeper; and he takes it to be his only happiness to be so. And -for my part, think there is more satisfaction in having a man that one -likes, in this sort of subjection, than there is in being courtezan to -any gouty peer in _Christendom_; for I have always had the same ambition -to be mistress over some of the male sex, as some of them have had to -make me their humble servant. These are the reasons why some ladies -submit themselves to the lash of the long whip, and love to be jerk’d by -their coach-man; and why lawyers wives join issue with their husbands -clerks; and shop-keepers help-mates court the benevolence of their -apprentices: for a woman’s business is seldom done by a man that’s her -master; and I must frankly confess, were I to be a slave to the best -man’s lust in the kingdom, tho’ kept never so well for’t, if I had not a -man beneath me in the same classis. I should think my life but in a -miserable confinement; for there is no other pleasure in money got over -the devil’s back, but in spending it under his belly; besides, if a -woman’s reputation be safe in any man’s power, it must certainly be -secure in the custody of an inferior so oblig’d; for interest is the -best padlock in the world to confine a tongue to silence: but if you -make an equal your familiar, and no interest binding on either side, -upon every little disgust it shall be, confound you for a wh--re, what -made you disappoint me? d--mn you for a jilt, what spark were you -engag’d with? and this sort of usage, in a little time, a woman must -expect to be treated with; and ten to one, but at last expos’d; and this -is all the gratitude the poor loving fool shall meet with for her -kindness. - -Pray, _Madam_, tho’ I have been so free with you, as to deliver you my -sentiments, don’t you take me to be a person that ever put them into -practice; I only tell you, according to my present judgment, what I -believe I should do, was I under the same predicament with many ladies, -whom I see daily in the boxes; but I thank my stars, I had always more -modesty than to be lewd; and more generosity, than to be mercenary; and -have hitherto took care to preserve a virtuous reputation, -notwithstanding I know what I know; therefore I defy your conscience -peeping; besides, that was in another world; and when all comes to all, -I believe ’tis only a piece of your own romantick wit, and as such I -take it. _So farewel._ - - - - - _From Madam_ CRESWELL _of_ pious Memory, _to her Sister in - Iniquity_ MOLL QUARLES _of_ Known Integrity. - - -_Dear Sister_, - -It is no little grief to me on this side the grave, to hear what a low -ebb the good old trade of basket-making is reduc’d to in the age you -live in; for I hear it is as much as a woman of tolerable beauty, and -reasonable share of experience can well do, to keep clean smocks to her -back, and pay her surgeon; when in my time, praised be the l--rd for it, -I kept my family as neat and sweet, poor girls, as any alderman’s -daughters in the city of _London_. I don’t know what scandal our -profession may be dwindled into since my departure from the upper world; -but I am sure thro’ the course of my life, I was look’d upon by the -whole city to be as honest an old gentlewoman, as ever hazarded her soul -for the service of her country; and always took care to deal in as good -commodities, as any shopkeeper in _London_ could desire to have the -handling of, true, wholesom country-ware; whole waggon-loads have I had -come up at a time, have dress’d them at my own expence, made them fit -for man’s use, and put them into a saleable condition. The clergy, I am -sure, were much beholden to me, for many a poor parson’s daughter have I -taken care on, bought her shifts to her back, put a trade into her -belly, taught her a pleasant livelihood, that she might support herself -like a woman, without being beholden to any body; who otherwise must -have turn’d drudge, waited upon some proud minx or other, or else have -depended upon relations; yet these unmannerly priests had the sinful -ingratitude before I dy’d, to refuse praying for me in their churches; -tho’ I dealt by all people with a conscience, and was so well beloved in -the parish I liv’d in, that the churchwardens themselves became my daily -customers. - -My home was always a sanctuary for distressed ladies; I never refus’d -meat, drink, washing, lodging, and cloaths, to any that had the least -spark of wit, youth, beauty, or gentility, to recommend them to my -charity; ladies women, chambermaids, cookmaids of any sort, when out of -service, were at all times welcome to my table, ’till they could better -provide for themselves; and I am sure, tho’ I say it that should not, I -kept as hospitable a house for all comers and goers, as any woman in -_England_; for the best of flesh was never wanting to delight the -appetites of both sexes; the toppingest shopkeepers in the city us’d now -and then to visit me for a good supper; and I never fail’d of having a -tid-bit ready for them; dainties that were hot and hot, never over-done, -but always with the gravy in them, which pleas’d them so wonderfully, -that they us’d to cry their own victuals at home was meer carrion to it; -nay, their very wives, sometimes, contrary to their own husbands -knowledge, have tripp’d in, in an evening, complain’d they have been as -hungry as hawks, and desired me to provide a morsel for them that might -satisfy their bellies; for you must know, both sexes were wonderful -lovers of my cookery, and would feed very heartily upon such nice -dainties that I toss’d up for them, when no other sort of flesh would by -any means go down with them. Many hopeful babes have been beholden to my -mansion-house for their generation; who tho’ they were never wise enough -to know their own father, yet some of them, for ought I know, may at -this day be aldermen; for I have had as good merchants ladies, as ever -liv’d in _Mincing-lane_, apply themselves to my fertile habitation for -change of diet; and have come twice or thrice a week to refresh nature -with my standing dishes; for I always kept an open house to feast -lovers; and, _Jove_ be thanked, never wanted variety to gratify the -appetites of mankind. Thirty pair of haunches, both bucks and does, have -been wagging their scuts at one another within the compass of one -evening; and many noblemen, notwithstanding they had deer of their own, -us’d to come to my park for a bit of choice venison, for I never wanted -what was fat and good, tho’ within my pale it was all the year -rutting-time. - -It is well known, I kept as good orders in my house as ever was observed -in a nunnery; I had a church-bible always lay open upon my hall-table, -and had every room in my house furnish’d with the _Practice of Piety_, -and other good books for the edification of my family; that for every -minute they sinn’d, they might repent an hour at their leisure -intervals. I kept a chaplain in my house, and had prayers read twice a -day, as constantly as the sun rises in a morning, and sets in an -evening; and tho’ I say it, I had a parcel of as honest religious girls -about me, as ever pious matron had under her tuition at a _Hackney_ -boarding-school; nor would they ever dare to humble the proud flesh of a -sinner without my leave or approbation; and, like good christians, as -often as they had sinn’d, came to auricular confession. I always did -every thing in the fear of the lord, and was, I thank my Creator, so -happy in my memory, that I had as many texts of scripture at command, -as a presbyterian parson. For my zeal to religion, and the services I -daily did to the publick community, I bless my stars, I never wanted a -city magistrate to stand my friend in the times of persecution, or any -other adversity; but could have half the court of aldermen appear on my -behalf at an hour’s warning. I kept a painter in my house perpetually -employ’d upon fresh faces, and had a good as collection of pictures, to -the life, as ever were to be seen in _Lilly_’s showing-room; beauties of -all complexions, from the cole-black cling-fast, to the golden-lock’d -insatiate, from the sleepye’d slug, to the brisk-ey’d wanton; from the -reserv’d hypocrite, to the lew’d fricatrix; so that every man might -choose by the shadow, what kind of beauteous substance would give his -fancy the greatest titillation. Every room in my house was adorn’d with -the picture of some grave bishop, that my customers might see what a -great veneration I had for the clergy; all my lodgings were as well -furnish’d, as the splendid apartments of a prince’s palace; that every -citizen, whose wife had been kiss’d at court, might fancy in revenge, by -the richness of his bed, he was making a cuckold of a nobleman. I never -was without _Viper-wine_ for a fumbler, to give a spur to old age and -assist impotency. I also had right _French Claret_, and the flower of -_Canary_, to wash away the dregs of the last _Sunday_’s sermon, that the -bugbears of conscience might not fright a good churchman from the -pleasures of fornication. I had orders in every room, against cathedral -exercise, or beastical back-slidings, and made it ten shillings -forfeiture for any that were caught in such actions; because I would not -be bilk’d of my bed-money. These were the measures I took in my -occupation to procure an honest livelihood; and Heaven be prais’d, I -thriv’d as well in my profession, as if my calling had been licensable. -How times are alter’d since, I know not, but I hear, to my great sorrow, -that bawding, of late years, which us’d to be a trade of itself, is now -grown scandalous, and very much declin’d by reason that midwives, like a -parcel of incroaching husseys, have engross’d the whole business to -themselves, to the starving of you experienc’d old ladies, who have -spent their days, and worn out their beauty in the service of the -publick; and ought in all equity to be the only persons, thought -qualifi’d for so judicious an undertaking, to support them in their old -age, when father time has stripp’d them of their charms, and their noble -faculties fail them; besides, I hear noblemen employ their own valets, -ladies their own waiting women, citizens wives one another, and all to -save charges, to the ruin of our poor sister-hood. - -Alack a-day! what a pernicious age do you live in? that traders should -trust one another to buy their commodities, and all to save the expence -of brokerage. I fear, there are some instruments among yourselves, that -have been the main occasion of your being thus neglected. I shall -further proceed, to give you a little advice, which, if but duly -observ’d, may, I hope, in a little time, recover the antient state of -bawdery into a flourishing condition, and make it once more as reputable -a calling, as it was when clergymens widows, and decay’d ladies at -court, did not disdain to follow it. - -Never neglect publick prayers twice a day, hear two sermons every -_Sunday_, receive the sacrament once a month, but let this be done at a -church where you are unknown; and be sure read the scriptures often, and -be sure fortify your tongue with abundance of godly sayings, let them -drop from you in strange company, as thick as ripe fruit from the tree -in a high wind; and whenever you have a design upon the daughter, be -sure of the mother’s faith, and ply her closely with religion, and she -will trust her beloved abroad with you in hopes she may edify; for you -must consider, there is no being a perfect bawd without being a true -hypocrite. - -Always have a lodging separate from your house, in a place of credit; -where, upon an occasion, you may entertain the parents without being -suspected, and corrupt the minds of their children before they know your -employment: you must first pour the poison in at their ears, infect -their thoughts, and when their fancies begin to itch, they will have -their tails rubb’d in spite of the devil. - -Whenever you have a maiden-head, be sure make a penny of the first -fruits, and at the second-hand let the next justice of peace have the -residue on free cost, tho’ you must give her her lesson, and present her -as a pure virgin; by this sort of bribery, you may win all the -magistrates in _Middlesex_; make _Hicks’s-hall_ your sanctuary, and gain -an useful ascendency over the whole bench of justices. - -Never admit common faces into your domestick seraglio, ’tis a scandal to -your family, a dishonour to your function, and will certainly spoil your -trade; but ply close at inns upon the coming in of waggons, and -gee-ho-coaches, and there you may hire fresh country wenches, sound, -plump, and juicy, and truly qualified for your business. - -Whatever you do, never trust any of your tits into an inn of court, or -inn of chancery, for if you do they will certainly harass her about from -chamber to chamber, till they have rid her off her legs; elevate her by -degrees, from the ground-floor to their garrets, and make her drudge -like a landress, thro’ a whole stair-case; and after a good weeks work, -send her home with foul linnen, torn heed-geer, rumbled scarf, apparel -spew’d upon, without fan, with but one glove, no money, and perhaps a -hot tail into the bargain. - -This advice for the present, if put in practice, I hope will prove of -use to you; I must tell you, there is nothing to be done in the world -you live in, without cunning; religion itself, without policy, is too -simple to be safe; therefore, if you do but take care for the future and -deal by the world, as a woman of your station ought to do, and play your -cards like a gamestress, I don’t at all question, but the mystery of -bawding, by your good management, may be rais’d again, in spite of -reformation, to its pristine eminency; which are the hearty wishes of, - -_Your Defunct Friend_, - -CRESWELL. - - - - -MOLL QUARLES_’s_ Answer to Mother CRESWELL of Famous Memory. - - -_Loving Sister_, - -_Your compassionate letter, has so won my affections to your pious -memory, that it shall be always my endeavour to pursue your kind -instructions, and to make myself the happy imitatrix of your glorious -example, having often, with great satisfaction, heard of your fame; -which as long as there is a young libertine, or an honest old -whoremaster living upon earth, can never be obliterated. Were I to give -you an account of the severe usage, and many persecutions I have been -under of late days, since the mercenary reformation of ill-manners has -been put on foot, it would soften the most obdurate wretches within your -infernal precincts, and make them squeeze me out a tear of pity, tho’ -your unextinguishable fire had so dry’d their souls, that their -immortalities were crusted into perfect cinder._ - -_Of all the unmerciful impositions that ever were laid upon bumb-labour, -none ever so highly afflicted, or so insupportably oppress us, the -retailers of copulation, as this intolerable society, who have brib’d -those who were our pimps to forsake our interest; and have made those -scoundrels who were our meanest servants, our implacable masters; who -come in clusters like cowardly bailiffs to arrest a bully; distrain our -commodities for want of money to pacify their greedy avarice; fright -away our customers, and make us pawn our cloaths to redeem little more -than our nakedness from a cat of nine-tails, and the filthy confines of -a stinking prison: At least five hundred of these reformed vultures are -daily plundering our pockets, and ransacking our houses, leaving me -sometimes not one pair of tractable buttocks in my vaulting-school to -provide for my family, or earn me so much as a pudding for my next_ -Sunday’s _dinner: nay, sometimes I have been forc’d to wag my own hand -to get a penny for want of a journey-woman in my house to dispatch -business. To shun their jury, I once got sanctuary in the_ -Rolls-_liberty, where I thought myself as safe as a fox in a badgers -hole, and had bid defiance to the rogues even to this day, for only -sacrificing now and then an elemosynary maiden-head to the fumbling of -old impotency; but some ill-natur’d observators beginning to reflect, -occasion’d my good friend to look a little a-skew upon me, when he found -his gravity and reputation began to be smear’d a little; so that I was -soon toss’d out by his untimely fear, whose lust before had kindly given -me protection: and now again, as true as I am a sinner, the rogues -plunder’d me of at least eight pence out of every shilling for -forbearance-money, and I believe will grow so unreasonable in a little -time, that they will not be content with less gain than an apothecary. -The officers of the parish, where-ever I liv’d, had the scouring of -their old rusty hangers for a word speaking, without so much as -gratifying the wench for making the bed, or being ever at the expence of -presenting one of my poor girls with a paper-fan, or a pair of taffeta -shoestrings. One honest churchwarden, I must confess, when I liv’d in -St._ Andrew_’s parish, after I had serv’d him and his son with the -choicest goods in my warehouse for above two years together, till they -had got a wife between them, had the gratitude, like an honest man, to -present me with a looking-glass; which I took so kindly at his hands, -that I declare it, should he come to my house to morrow, I would oblige -him with as good a commodity in my way, as a worthy old fornicator or -adulterer would desire to lay his hand upon_. - -_Thus plaguing and pillaging of all our known houses of delight, has -been a great discouragement to young ladies from tendring their service -at such places, or rendevouzing in numbers upon the lawful occasions -that concern their livelihood, for fear of trouble or molestation, and -make them rather choose to deel singly, as interlopers, than incorporate -themselves with the company of town-traders, for fear of being scratch’d -out of their burrows by those reforming ferrets, who make worse havock -with the poor sculking creatures, than so many weasles or pole-cats -would do with coneys in a warren; they sleep in fear, walk in dread, -converse in danger, do their business, poor wretches, insteed of -pleasure, with an aking heart. Oh, sister! what a miserable age is this -we live in after you, that one part of mankind cannot obey the great law -of nature, but the other part shall make a law to punish them for doing -it! Which sport, if totally neglected, would soon make lions, and tygers -princes of the earth, and turn the world into a solitary wilderness._ - -_I cannot but reflect, with great concern, upon the unreasonableness of -some men in authority, who loving the old trade of basket-making so well -themselves, are so inveterate against the same practice in others, that -I cannot but believe, they think the sweet sin of copulation ought to be -enjoy’d by none under the dignity of a justice of peace, or at least -the authority of a high constable: nay, and are so inveterate when they -grow old, against other creatures who they know use it, that a grave -city magistrate, one of the reformed-society, seeing a young game cock -of his own, refresh his feather’d mistress three times in about half an -hour, he grew so wonderful angry with the lascivious chaunticleer, that -he order’d him forthwith to be depriv’d of his progenitors, for -committing so foul an act with such indecent immoderation; looking upon -the intemperance to be a shameful example, sufficient to stir up -inordinate desires in mankind, and to put the female part of his own -family upon unreasonable expectancies; but the good lady of the house -enquired into the reason, why the noble little creature was so severely -dealt by, and being inform’d by her chamber-maid, she compassionately -declar’d, that she would rather have given five pound than so barbarous -an action had been done in her family, for that the bird committed no -offence, and therefore deserv’d no punishment. Observe but in this -particular the cruelty of sordid man, and the tenderness of the female -sex! and how can those poor girls, who have nothing to depend on but the -drudgery of flipflap, expect any other than severe usage from so morose -a creature? For certain, whilst publick magistrates are in their -authority so stiff, and private women in their own houses so pliable, -the ladies of the town must starve, and be firk’d about from one_ -Bridewell _to another; for the favours of a kind mistress, which were -once thought the most valuable blessings beneath the clouds, are now -become, thro’ the universal corruption of the female sex, such -unregarded drugs, that the scene is quite revers’d, and as women us’d to -take money formerly as but just recompence for their soft embraces, they -are forc’d to give money now, or else they will have a hard matter to -procure a gallant that is worth whistling after. How therefore at this -rate, are the poor whores like to be fed, when the rich ones buy up all -for their cats, and the middling whores in private lie and pick up the -crumbs? For what won’t down with the quality, are snapp’d up by -citizens-wives, sempstresses and head-dressers; insomuch, that I have -several pretty nymphs under my own jurisdiction, that some weeks I may -modestly say, don’t earn money enough to pay their three-penny -admittances into_ Pancras-_wells, but are often-times forc’d to tick -half a sice a piece for their watering; and were it not for the credit -I always preserve in those places, the poor wenches might be dash’d out -of countenance by being refus’d entrance; but money or no money, if they -are my puppets, and name but who they belong to, they are as kindly -receiv’d as so many butchers at the_ Bear-Garden; _for without them -there would be no sport. You may from thence observe what an honest -reputation I maintain abroad for a lady of my calling, that the word of -the homeliest courtezan protected under my roof, will pass for -three-pence any where that she’s known, without the least exception, -when many a poor house-keeper has not credit for a two-penny loaf._ - -_We have nothing to hope for, but that the national senate, thro’ their -wonted wisdom, will find out, without shamming on’t, some real expedient -to restrain the looseness of the age, and promote the practice of -morality and strict observance of religion; for thro’ all the experience -I have had in the mystery of intriguing, I have ever found the lady’s -students in the school of_ Venus, _attended with the most prosperity -when the people are most pious; whether it is that a good conscience -teaches gentlemen to be more grateful to their mistresses, or that as -the priests grow fat, the petticoat flourishes, I will leave you to -determine: so thanking you for the kind advice you gave me in your -letter, which shall always be esteem’d a guide to my future practice_, - -_I rest_, - -Your Loving Sister, - -MOLL QUARLES. - -[Illustration] - - - - -LETTERS - -FROM THE - -DEAD _to the_ LIVING. - - - - -PART III. - - - - - _The third and last Letter from Seignior_ GIUSIPPE HANESIO, - _High-German Doctor and Astrologer in_ Brandinopolis, _to his - Friends at_ WILL_’s Coffee-House in_ Covent-Garden. - -_By Mr._ THO. BROWN. - - -_Gentlemen_, - -I was forc’d to break off my last abruptly, by reason of the vast crowds -of people, which press’d upon me then for advice, so that I could not -present you with a full catalogue of my cures, which you will find at -the conclusion of this, or acquaint you with what transactions of moment -have lately happen’d in our gloomy regions. But having by miracle a -vacant hour or two at present upon my hands, which, by the by, is a -blessing I am seldom troubled with, I was resolv’d not to neglect so -fair a opportunity of paying my respects to you, and therefore without -any more preface or formality, will continue the thread of my narration. - -I had no sooner publish’d my bill and catalogue of cures, but my house -has been crouded ever since with prodigious shoals of patients, that I -can hardly afford myself an hour to pass with my friends: they flock -from all corners of this gigantic city, so that sometimes not only my -court-yard which is very large and spacious, but even my chamber, my -anti-chamber, and if you’ll allow me, gentlemen, to coin a new word, my -pro-anti-chamber, or my hall, is full of them: I will only tell you the -names of a few customers of quality that resorted to me for advice -yesterday morning: to give you an idea of my business, and how -considerable ’tis like to prove. - -About a month after my setting up, who should rap at my door, but the -famous _Semiramis_? I remembered her royal phiz perfectly well, ever -since my friend _Nokes_ carried me to her coffee-house, and treated me -there with a glass of _Geneva_; however, for certain reasons of state I -did not think it proper to let her _Babylonian_ majesty know, that I was -acquainted either with her name or quality; come good woman, said I to -her, what is your business? _Oh!_ replies she, _you see the most -unfortunate, unhappy creature in the world_. Why what calamity has -befallen you? _Only_, says she, _too big for words to express_; with -that she wrung her hands, stamp’d upon the floor, cursing the -left-handed planet she was born under, and pouring down such a deluge of -tears, that one would have thought it had been the second edition of the -_Ephesian_ matron, lamenting the loss of one spouse in order to wheedle -on a second. When her grief had pretty well exhausted itself at the -sluices of her eyes, she thus continu’d her tragical _historietto_. -_Were I minded, doctor, to trouble you with my genealogy, I could -perhaps, make it easily appear, that few people are descended of better -parents than myself, but let that pass; the scene is alter’d with me at -present, and rather than take up with ill courses, or to be troublesom -to my relations, I am content to keep a coffee-house. Now as I was -sitting in my bar this morning, and footing a pair of stockings for_ -Alexander _the_ great, _in came two rascally grenadiers, and ask’d for -some juniper; but alas! while I was gone down into the cellar to fetch -it, these lubberly rogues plunder’d me of a silver spoon and -nutmeg-grater, and made their escape_. Come mistress, says I, this loss -is not so great but a little diligence may retrieve it. _Oh never_, says -she again, _unless you help me by your art, I am utterly undone to all -intents and purposes_. Finding her so much mortify’d for the loss of her -two utensils, I resolv’d to exert the fortune-teller to her, and banter -her in the laudable terms of astrology; so putting on a very compos’d -countenance, I seem’d very seriously to consult a celestial globe that -stood before me; then enquiring the precise time when this horrid theft -was committed, I drew several odd figures and strokes upon a piece of -paper, and at last the oracle thus open’d: _Mistress, it appears I find -by the_ Heliocentric _position of the planets, that_ Jupiter, _you -understand me, is become stationary to retrogradation in_ Cancer, _and -consequently, you observe me, mistress, equivocal to him; but how and -why in_ Trine _to_ Mercury _in_ Scorpio, _both posited in watry signs, -and at the same time_ Mars _being ascendant of the second house, as you -may perceive, ’tis as plain that the culminating aspect of_ Saturn_’s_ -Satellites, _do ye mind me, centres full in the foresaid configuration. -So then mistress, the hoary question thus resolves itself_, viz. _That -your goods were carry’d away_ South-East _by_ East _of your house, under -the sign of a four-footed creature, and if you’ll leave open your -parlour windows a-nights, I dare pawn my life and honour, that both your -silver spoon and nutmeg-grater will be flung into the house one of the -nights_. _Semiramis_ was wonderfully pleas’d to hear such news, dropt me -a fee, and went about her business. - -She was hardly gone, but in came queen _Dido_, who the last time I saw -her call’d _Virgil_ so many rogues and rascals in my hearing, for -raising such a malicious story of her and and the pious _Æneas_; it was -a long time before I could get her to tell me what errand she came -about: at last, after abundance of blushing, and covering half her face -with her hood, _Seignior_ Hanesio, says she, _I doubt not but a person -of your experience has observ’d in his time but too many instances of -female infirmity. To be plain with you, I am one, and tho’ I made as -great a splutter about my virtue as the soundest of my sex, yet I was a -damn’d recreant all that while. In short, I find by several indications -which I have not nam’d to you, doctor, that I am with child,--and being -very tender of my reputation,--which, doctor, is all we poor women have -to depend upon,---- and loth to have my good name expos’d in ballads and -lampoons.---- I beg the favour of you, dear doctor,---- and you shall -find I will gratify you nobly for your pains, to help me to something -that shall make me,---- but you know my meaning, doctor.---- To miscarry -is it not, Madam? You are in the right on’t, dear Sir, reply’d she. Why -then, Madam, I must tell you, are come to the wrong house; for whether -you know it or no, I carry a tender conscience about me, mind me what I -say, I carry a tender conscience about me, and would not be guilty of -such a wicked thing as you mention for the world. But there is an_ -Italian _son of a whore at the corner of the street, that will poison -you and the child in your belly, and half the women in the city for half -a crown. You may make your application to him, if you think fit, but for -my part, Madam, I’ll be perjur’d for no body; for as I told you before, -my conscience is tender_: Upon this our famous _coquette_ immediately -withdrew in a great deal of confusion, and curs’d me plentifully in her -gizzard, I don’t question. - -My next visitant was _Lucretia_, who brought some of her water in an -_urinal_, and desir’d me to give her my judgment on’t. Finding her -ladyship look a little blueish, and so forth, under the eyes; what was -more, having been privately inform’d of the correspondence she kept with -_Æsop_ the _fabulist_; _Madam_, says I bluntly to her, _the party to -whom this urine belongs, is under none of the most healthful -circumstances, but troubled with certain prickings and pains. I’ll -swear, doctor_, says she, _you are a man of skill, for to my certain -knowledge the party is troubled with those concerns you were talking of. -You need not forestal me, Madam_, says I to her, _but especially when -she makes water; I knew it as soon as ever I cast my eyes upon the -urinal: and pray, Sir, what may be the occasion of it? for the party is -at a horrid loss, what is the matter with her. Why, Madam_, says I, _the -matter is plain enough, the party has been committing acts of privity -with somebody, and has disoblig’d love’s mansion by it: or to express -myself in the familiar language of a modern versificator and quack_; - - _Has been dabbling in private, and had the mishap,_ - _In seeking for pleasure to meet with a clap._ - -_How doctor, says she, have you the impudence to say the party is -clapt?_ verily, Madam, and yet I am no more impudent than some of my -neighbours. _Why you saucy fellow you_, continues she, _I’d have you to -know that I am the party to whome the urine belongs, and my name is_ -Lucretia, _that celebrated matron in_ Roman _history, who scorning to -out-live her honour, perferr’d a voluntary death to an ignominious life. -Yes, Madam_, says I, _I know your history well enough, and whatever -opinion I may have of your chastity, I have yet a greater of your -discretion; for, between friends be it said, Madam, before you left the -insignificant world, you were resolv’d to taste the sweetness of young_ -Tarquin_’s person; and finding what a vast difference there was between -vigorous love and phlegmatick duty, you thought it not worth your while -to be troubled any longer with the dull embraces of an impotent husband. -Oh most abominable scandal_, cries our matron, _but Heaven be prais’d_ -Livy _tells another story of my chastity; and to let thee see how -scrupulous and careful I am to preserve my reputation spotless, know, I -keep company with none but moralists and philosophers. Lord, Madam_, -says I, _your intrigues are no mysteries to me: I am no stranger to that -laudable commerce you keep with that crook-back’d moralist and -fable-monger of_ Phrygia, _they call him my lord; Æsop_ (at which -unwelcome words she look’d paler than I have the charity to believe she -did when the impetuous _Tarquin_ leapt into bed to her) _and as for -those sage recommenders of virtue, the philosophers, take my word for -it, a clap may be got as soon among them, as any other sort of men -whatsoever. Since my coming into these parts, Madam, I am able to give -you a true account of the present state of most of these_ Philosophers’ -_bodies_. Thales, _who held that_ Water _was the beginning of all -things, is now satisfy’d that_ Fire _is the conclusion of love_. -Pythagoras _that run thro’ so many changes in the other world, has -undergone a greater transmutation here in a sweating tub. The divine_ -Plato, _and his disciple_ Aristotle, _are at this present writing very -lovingly salivating in my garret_. Socrates _had his shin-bones scrap’d -t’other morning by my toad-eater Dr._ Connor, _by the same token the_ -Hibernian _thrash’d him for swearing so inordinately at his_ dæmon _that -led him into this mischance_. Aristotle _told me last night, that -nothing in philosophy troubled him so much as pissing of needles_. -Diogenes _has a phiz so merrily collyflower’d, that he protests against -planting of men, since these are the effects of it; and the virtuous_ -Seneca _has lost all his_ Roman _patience with his nose. But alas, these -solemn splaymouth’d gentlemen, Madam_, says I, _only do it to improve in -natural philosophy, with no wicked intentions, I can assure you, no -carnal titillation to urge them on, or the like. Well, says she, since -’tis in vain to play the hypocrite any longer, I own myself a downright -frail woman, therefore resolve me what is best to be done for my -recovery? Look you, Madam_, says I, _you must take physick, and live -sober for a fortnight or so, and I’ll engage to make you as primitively -sound as when you first came squaling into the world. Here’s a dose of -pills the devil of any_ Mercury_’s in them; take four of them every -morning, and to make them operate the better, drink me a quart of -honest_ Phlegethon _a little warm’d over the fire, and mix some grated -nutmeg with it to correct the crudity_. She promis’d to observe my -directions, presented me with half a score broad pieces, and as she was -going out of the room, _Worthy doctor_, says she, _I conjure you to have -a care of my dear dear reputation: And_, Madam, answers I, _pray have -you likewise a care of your dear dear brandy bottle, and your beloved -Dr._ Steven_’s water with the gold in it_; and so we parted. - -I was thinking with myself, surely it rains nothing but female visitants -this morning, when a brace of two handed strapping jades bolted into my -closet, and upon a due examination of their faces, I found one of them -to be _Thalestris_ the _Amazonian_, who, as I hinted to you in my last, -is become an haberdasheress of small wares; and the other that termagant -motly composition of half man half woman, _Christiana_ the late queen of -_Sweden_. So my two chopping _Bona Roba’s_, says I to ’em and what -business has brought you hither? _Why you must know, cries_ Thalestris, -_that both of us are furiously in love and want a little of your -assistance_. - -The ladies may be always sure of commanding that, answers I, but pray -explain yourselves more particularly. _For my part, says_ Thalestris, -_having formerly been happy in the embraces of_ Alexander _the great, I -could never fancy anything but a soldier ever since. Why our military -men_, says I, _have been always famous for attacking and carrying all -places before them, but pray tell me the happy person’s name, whom you -have singled from the rest of his sex to honour with your affection? -With the malicious world_, continues she, _he passes for a bully, but I -call him my lovely charming Capt._ Dawson; _’tis true, I am not -altogether disagreeable to this cruel insensible; he likes the majesty -of my person, my humour and wit well enough; but t’other morning he -told me, over a porringer of burnt brandy, when people are apt to -unbosom themselves, that he had an unconquerable aversion to red hair, -and so I am come to see whether you have any relief for this misfortune, -as you promise in your bills. This is no business of mine_, says I to -her, _but my wife’s who’ll soon redress your grievances, and furnish you -with a leaden comb and my_ Anti-Erythræan _unguent, which after two or -three applications will make you as fair or as brown as you desire_. And -having said so, address’d myself to her companion, and enquir’d of her -what she came for? _I am up to the ears in love, says_ Christiana, _with -a jolly smock-fac’d duchess’s chaplain lately arriv’d in these parts; I -have already signify’d my passion to him, both after the antient and -modern way, persecuted him with_ Latin _and_ French billet-deux, _for -which I was always famous: but this stubborn_ Theologue _tells me my -face is too masculine for him, and particularly quarrels with the -irregularity of my forehead and eyebrows. Those will easily be -recftify’d by my wife_, says I: _and now, Madam, will you give me leave -to ask you a civil question or two?_ a hundred, my dear _seignior_, -answers she very obligingly. _To be short then_, says I, _a certain_ -French _author, who has writ the memoirs of your life, has been pleas’d -positively to assert, that your majesty went thro’ at least one half of -the college of cardinals, and that two or three popes were suspected of -being familiar with you. I wanted_, answers she, _no sort of consolation -from those noble personages, while I liv’d at_ Rome; _and to convince -you how well I am satisfied in their abilities, by my good will, I would -have to do with none but ecclesiasticks; for besides that they eat and -drink plentifully, and by consequence want no vigour, they possess -another no less commendable quality, and that is taciturnity. I applaud -your judgment_, replies I, _for your churchmen are true feeders and -thundering performers. No body knows that better than myself_, says -Christiana, _and take my word for it, one robust well-chined priest is -worth a hundred of your lean half starv’d captains. I’ll never hear the -soldiery blasphem’d, says_ Thalestris, _in a mighty passion, I tell -thee, thou insignificant north country trollop, thou foolish affected -grammarian-ridden she-pedant, that one soldier is better than a thousand -of your stiff-rump’d parsons_; and immediately saluted her with a -discourteous reprimand a cross the mazzard. The blood of _Gustavus -Adolphus_ began to be rous’d in _Christiana_, and my glasses, globes, -and crocodile and all, were infallibly going to rack between these two -furious heroines, when my wife luckily stept in to put an end to the -fray. In short the matter was amicable made up, and so they follow’d my -spouse into her closet, where I’ll leave them. - -Thus, _gentlemen_, you may perceive what sort of customers resort to me, -I could tell you a hundred more stories to the same purpose, but why -should I pretend to entertain persons of your worth with so mean and -unworthy a subject as my self? therefore to diversify the scene, I will -endeavour to divert you with some occurences of a more publick -importance, which have happen’d in our _Acherontic_ dominions since I -writ to you last. - -But before I proceed any farther I am to inform you, that we have a -spacious noble room in the middle of _Brandinopolis_, where the -virtuosos of former ages as well as of the present, use to resort and -entertain one another with learned or facetious conversation, according -as it happens. Of late we have had the same controversy debated among -us, which so long employ’d monsieur _Perault_ and the famous wits of -_France_, I mean, whether the antients are preferable to the moderns in -the learned arts and sciences. The question had been discuss’d one -afternoon with a great deal of heat on both sides, when an honest merry -gentleman and a new comer among us, whose name I have unluckily forgot, -interpos’d in the dispute, and express’d himself to this effect. -Gentlemen, says he, I think you may e’en drop this controversy, for I -can make it appear, that little _England_ alone affords a set of men at -present, that much out-do any of the antients in whatever they pretend -to. There’s honest Mr. _Edmund Whiteaker_, late of the admiralty office, -that in the mystery of making up accounts out-does _Archimedes_; and my -lord _Puzzlechalk_, who told his master’s money over a gridiron, -understands numbers better than _Archytas_ or _Euclid_. Mr. _Burgess_ of -_Covent-Garden_, and indeed most of the _dissenting parsons_, go -infinitely beyond _Tully_ and _Demosthenes_ in point of eloquence; for -those old fashion’d orators could only raise joy and sadness -successively, whereas the latter so manage matters, that they can make -their congregations laugh and weep both at once. The antients were -forc’d to drudge and take pains to make themselves masters of any tongue -before they pretended to write in it; but here’s _your old friend Dr._ -Case _by Ludgate_, writ a system of anatomy in _Latin_, and does not -understand a syllable of the language. As for musick you may talk till -your heart akes of your _Amphions_ and your _Orpheus_’s, that drew trees -and stones after them by the irresistible force of their harmony; this -is so far from being a miracle among us, that the vilest thrummers in -_England_ and _Wales_ do it every wake and fair they go to: then as for -the various perturbations of mind caus’d by the antient musick, we saw -something more wonderful happen upon our own theatre since the late -revolution, than antiquity can boast of; for when _Harry Purcel_’s -famous winter song at the _Opera_ of king _Arthur_, was sung at the -play-house, half the gentlemen and ladies in the side boxes and pit got -an ague by it, tho’ it was sung in the midst of the dog-days. Lastly, to -conclude, for I am afraid I have trespass’d too much upon your patience, -we infinitely exceed the antients in quickening of parts: _Virgil_, one -of the topping wits of antiquity, was forc’d to retire out of the noise -and hurry of _Rome_ to his country _Villa_, and bestow’d some ten or -twelve years in composing his _Æneis_: whereas Sir _Richard Blackmore_, -who passes but for a sixth rate versifier among us, was able to write -both his _Arthurs_ in two or three years time, and that in the tumult -and smoak of Coffee-houses, or in his coach as he was jolting it from -one patient to another, amidst the vast multiplicity of his business -too, which as the city bard frankly confesses, was never greater than -then. - -The gentleman delivered his ironies with so good a grace that he set all -the company a laughing, and for that time put an end to the dispute. And -now since I am upon the chapter of Sir _Richard_, you must know, that -the young wits, inhabiting upon the banks of _Phlegethon_, have lately -pelted his _Arthurs_ with distichs; but I can only call to mind at -present three of them. The two first reflect upon the poem’s genealogy, -which was partly begot in a coffee-house, and partly in a coach. - - _Editus in_ plaustri _strepitu, fumoque_ tabernæ, - _Non aliter nasci debuit_ iste _liber_. - - _Qui potuit matrem_ Arthuri _dixisse tabernam_ - _e potest currum dicere_, Rufe, _patrem_. - - _Sæpius in libro memoratur_ Garthius _uno,_ - _Quam levis_ Arthuro Maurus _utroque tumens_. - -I do not wonder now at prince _Arthur_’s wonderful loquacity, says -another, (for as I remember, when he and king _Hoel_ met upon the road, -he welcomes him with a simile of forty lines perpendicular) since he was -born at a coffee house; nor at the rumbling of the verse, since one half -of the book was written in a leathern vehicle; for we find, continues -he, that what is bred in the bone, will never out of the flesh; and -thus, ’tis no wonder, that according to the observation of a modern -virtuoso, the _Severn_ is so mischievous and cholerick a river, and so -often ruins the country with sudden inundations, since it rises in -_Wales_, and consequently participates sometimes of the nature of that -hasty, iracund people among whom ’tis born. However, cries surly _Ben_, -I must needs commend Sir _Richard_’s sagacity and politicks in taking -care that his muse should be so openly deliver’d; for Epic poems, like -the children of sovereign princes, ought to be born in publick. - -The other day, as I was taking a solitary turn by myself, ’twas my -fortune to meet with a leash of old-fashion’d thread-bare mortals, with -very dejected looks, and in the best equipage of those worthy gentlemen, -whom you may see every day between the hours of twelve and one, walking -in the _Middle-Temple_ and _Grays-Inn_ walks, to get ’em a stomach to -their no-dinners. At first I took them for a parcel of fiddlers, when -the oldest of them undeceiv’d me, by addressing himself to me as -follows. Sir, says he, my name is _J. Hopkins_, my two companions are -the fam’d _Sternhold_ and _Wisdom_, and understanding that you are -lately arrived from _England_, I have presum’d to ask you a question: we -have been inform’d some time ago, that two _Hibernian_ bards, finding -fault with our version and language, have endeavour’d to depose myself -and my two brethren here out of all parish-churches, where we have -reign’d most melodiously so long, and to substitute their own -translation in the room of it; I must confess it vexes me to the heart -to think that I must be ejected after an hundred years quiet possession -and better, which, by the Common as well as Civil law, gives a man a -just title, and resign my ecclesiastical dominions to two new fangled -usurpers, whom I never injur’d in my days. Now, Sir, pray tell me how my -affairs go in your world, and whether I have reputation enough still -left me with the people, to make head against those unrighteous -innovators? Why truly, Mr. _Hopkins_, says I to him, when these -adversaries first appeared in the world, I was in some pain about you, -the conspiracy against your crown and dignity being so speciously laid, -that nothing less than an universal defection seem’d to threaten you. -’Tis true indeed, some few churches in and about _London_, where the -people you know are govern’d by a spirit of novelty, have thrown you -out, but by what advices I can receive, excepting some few revolters, -the generality of the people seem to be heartily engaged in your -interests, and as it always happens to other monarchs when they are able -to surmount an insurrection form’d against them, I look upon your -throne, since you have so happily broke the neck of this rebellion, to -be settled upon a surer basis than ever. The Parish-clerks, sextons, and -old women, all over the kingdom are in a particular manner devoted to -your service, preserving a most entire and unshaken allegiance to you, -and on my conscience would sooner part with all _magna charta_ than one -syllable of yours. You wonderfully revive my spirits, replies old -_Hopkins_, to tell me such comfortable news, but pray, Sir, one word -more with you; This new translation that has made such a noise in the -world, is it so much superior to mine, as my enemies here would make me -believe? Mr. _Hopkins_, says I, I flatter no man, ’tis not my way, -therefore you must not take amiss what I am going to say to you. For my -part I am of opinion, that king _David_ is not oblig’d to any of you, -but ought to cudgel you all round; for I can find no other difference -between the _Jewish_ monarch in his ancient collar of _ekes_ and _ayes_, -which you and your brethren there have bestow’d upon him, and in his -new-fashion’d _Irish_ dress, than there is between an old man of -threescore with a long beard hanging down to his waste, and the same -individual old man newly come out of a barber’s shop nicely shav’d and -powder’d. ’Tis true, he looks somewhat gayer and youth-fuller, but has -not a jot more vigour and ability. - -I know you gentlemen of _Will_’s coffee-house, will be glad to hear some -news of Mr. _Dryden_, I must tell you then, that we had the devil all of -combustions and quarrels here in hell since that famous bard’s arrival -among us. The _Grecians_, the _Romans_, the _Italians_, the _Spaniards_, -the _French_, but especially the _Dutch_ authors, have been upon his -back; _Homer_ was the first that attack’d him for justifying -_Almanzor_’s idle rants and monstrous actions by the precedent of -_Achilles_. The two poets, after a little squabbling, were without much -difficulty perswaded to let their two heroes fight out the quarrel for -them, but the nimble-heel’d _Græcian_ soon got the whip-hand of the -furious _Almanzor_, and made him beg pardon. _Horace_ too grumbled a -little in his gizzard at him for affirming _Juvenal_ to be a better -satirist than himself; but upon second thoughts thought it not worth his -while to contest the point with him. Once it happen’d, that Mr. _Bays_ -came into our room when _Petronius Arbiter_ was diverting us with a very -fine _nouvelle_. Mons. _Fontaine_, Sir _Philip Sidney_, Mr. _Waller_, my -late lord _Rochester_, with Sir _Charles Sidley_, compos’d part of this -illustrious audience; when Mr. _Dryden_ unluckily spoil’d all by asking -the latter, what the facetious gentleman’s name was, that talk’d so -agreeably? How, says Sir _Charles Sidley_, hadst thou the impudence, in -the preface before thy _English Juvenal_, to say, that so soon as the -pretended _Belgrade_ supplement of _Petronius_’s fragments came into -_England_, thou couldst tell upon reading but two lines of that edition, -whether it was genuine or no; and here hast thou heard the noble author -himself talk above an hour by the clock, and could not find him out? -Upon this the old bard retired in some disorder; but what happened to -him a day or two after was more mortifying. - -_Chaucer_ meets him in one of our coffee-houses, and after the usual -ceremonies were over between two strangers of their wit and learning, -thus accosts him. Sir, cries _Chaucer_, you have done me a wonderful -honour to furbish up some of my old musty tales, and bestow modern -garniture upon them, and I look upon myself much obliged to you for so -undeserved a favour; however, Sir, I must take the freedom to tell you, -that you over-strain’d matters a little, when you liken’d me to _Ovid_, -as to our wit and manner of versification. Why, Sir, says Mr. _Dryden_, -I maintain it, and who then dares be so saucy as to oppose me? But under -favour, Sir, cries the other, I think I should know _Ovid_ pretty well, -having now convers’d with him almost three hundred years, and the -devil’s in it if I don’t know my own talent, and therefore tho’ you pass -a mighty compliment upon me in drawing this parallel between us, yet I -tell you there is no more resemblance between us, as to our manner of -writing, than there is between a jolly well-complexion’d _Englishman_ -and a black-hair’d thin-gutted _Italian_. Lord, Sir, says _Dryden_ to -him, I tell you that you’re mistaken, and your two styles are as like -one another as two Exchequer tallies. But I, who should know it better, -says _Chaucer_, tell you the contrary. And I, say Mr. _Bays_, who know -these things better than you, and all the men in the world, will stand -by what I have affirm’d, and upon that gave him the lye. _Rhadamanthus_, -who is one of _Pluto_’s oldest judges and a severe regulator of good -manners and conversation, immediately sent for our friend _John_ to -appear in court; and after he had severely reprimanded him for using -such insufferable language upon no provocation; for your punishment, -says he, I command you to get Sir _Richard Blackmore_’s translation of -_Job_ by heart, and to repeat ten pages of it to our friend the author -of the _Rehearsal_ every morning. Poor _Bays_ desired his lordship to -mitigate so rash a sentence, and by way of commutation frankly offer’d -to drink so many quarts of liquid sulphur every morning. No, says my -lord judge, tho’ they commute penances in _Doctors-Commons_, yet we are -not such rogues to commute them in hell, and so I expect to be obey’d. - -Thus _Gentlemen_, you see we observe a severe justice among us, and -indeed to deliver my thoughts impartially, I must needs say, that equity -is administer’d after a fairer and more compendious manner in these -dominions, than either in your _Westminster-Hall_, or your palace at -_Paris_, where _Astræa_ pretends to carry all before her, yet has as -little to do in either of those two places, as a farrier at _Venice_. A -signal instance of this we have had in a late famous tryal. A -foot-soldier of the first regiment of guards, and a _Drury-lane_ whore, -were summon’d to appear before judge _Minos_, who after he had, with a -great deal of patience, heard the crimes that were alledg’d against -them, asked them what they had to offer in favour of themselves, why -sentence of damnation should not pass? the young harlot, either replying -upon the merits of her face, which she foolishly imagin’d would bring -her off here, as it had often done in your world, or else being -naturally furnish’d with a greater stock of impudence than the soldier, -broke thro’ the crowd, and thus address’d herself to the court: I hope -your lordship, says she, will take no advantage of a poor woman’s -ignorance, who ought to have learned counsel to plead for her; however, -I depend so much upon the justice of my cause, that I will undertake it -my self. The chief argument I insist upon, my lord, is this: I think it -highly unreasonable that I should suffer a-new for my crimes in this -world, having done sufficient penance for them in the other. By my -aunt’s consent and privity, I was sold to an old libidinous lord, and -debauch’d by him before I was fourteen; the noble peer kept me some four -months; then took occasion to pick a quarrel with me, and set me a drift -in the wide world, to steer my course as fortune should direct me. In -this exigence I was forc’d to apply my self to a venerable old matron, -who finding me young and handsome, took me into her service, shamm’d me -upon her customers for a baronet’s daughter of the _North_, and much I -was made of, and courted like a little queen; but, my lord, our -profession is directly opposite to all others, for too much custom -breaks us. In short, an officer in the army, whom _Pluto_ rewarded for -his pains, taught me what _Fortune de la guerre_ meant, so that I was -very fairly salivated before fifteen. Having got a little knowledge of -the world under this old matron’s directions, who went more than halves -with me in every bargain, I thought it high time to trade for my self, -and told her one morning, that I was resolved to expose myself no longer -in her house. What you please as for that, replies this antient -gentlewoman, but first, my dear child, let us come to a fair account to -see how the land lies between us. Then stepping into the next room she -shew’d me a deal-board all be-scrawl’d with round o’s and cart-wheels in -ungodly chalk; then clapping on her spectacles, let me see, cries she, -for lodging, diet, washing, cloaths, linen, physick, _&c._ you owe me -ten pounds, (which came up within a few transitory shillings of what I -had earned in her house) and this you must pay, sweetheart, before you -talk of parting. ’Twas in vain to complain of her extortion, for besides -that she pleaded perscription for it, her arithmetick was infallible, -and she judg’d for her self _en dernier ressort_. Thus I was turn’d out -of doors, but having in the interim, while I stay’d here, contracted a -small acquaintance with a sister of the quill that lodg’d in -_Covent-Garden_, I repaired to her quarters, and continu’d with her. -Between us, my lord, we acted the story of _Castor_ and _Pollux_, that -is, we were never visible together, but when she appeared above the -horizon, ’twas bed-time with me; and when she kept her bed, ’twas my -time to shine at the play-house. When either of us went abroad, we made -a fine show enough, but then we gratify’d our backs at the expence of -our bellies; cow-heel, tripe, a few eggs, or sprats, were our constant -regale at home, and upon holidays a chop of mutton roasted upon a -packthread in the chimney; and many a time when my sister and I wore -silver-lac’d shoes our stockings wanted feet. I should trespass too much -upon your lordship’s patience, to tell you how I have been forc’d to -shift my name as well as my quarters, to submit to the nauseous embraces -of every drunken tobacco-taking sot, that had half a crown in his pocket -to purchase me; and when I have been arrested for a milk-score not -exceeding the terrible sum of four shillings, to let an ill-look’d dog -of a _Moabite_ enjoy me upon a founder’d chair in a spunging-house to -procure my liberty. To this I should add, what unmerciful contributions -I was forc’d out of my small revenue to pay to the conniving justices -clerks, the constable, the beadle, the tallyman, but especially to those -rascals the _Reformers_, whose business is not to convert, but only lay -a heavier tax upon poor sinners, and make iniquity shift its habitation -oftener than otherwise it would, I should never have done. In short, our -condition, my lord is like a frontier people that live between two -mighty monarchies, oppress’d, squeez’d, and plunder’d on all sides. By -that time I was one and twenty, I could number more diseases than years, -smoak and swear like a grenadier; and last _Bartholomew fair_, having -made a debauch in stumm’d claret and Dr. _Stevens_’s water, with an -attorney’s clerk, a fever seiz’d me next morning, and tript up my heels -in three days. How I was buried, that is to say, whether by the -contributions of the sister-hood or at the charge of the parish, I -cannot tell; but this, my lord, is a short and faithful account of my -life, and now I submit myself to the justice of this honourable court. I -will not pretend to vindicate my profession, but this I may venture to -affirm, that the world cannot live without us, and that a whore in the -business of love, is like farthings in the business of trade, which -(tho’ they are not the legal coin of the nation) ought to be allow’d and -tolerated, if it were only for the conveniency of ready change. Well, -says my lord, since ’tis so, and your calling expos’d you to so much -suffering, I hope you made your gallants pay for it? That you may be -sure I did, answers our damsel, I sold my maidenhead to fifteen several -customers, by the same token seven of them were _Jews_, and it pleases -me to think how I cheated those loggerheads in their own _Mosaical_ -indications. I never parted with any of my favours, nay, not so much as -a clap _gratis_, except a lieutenant and ensign whom once I admitted -upon trust, by the same token they built a sconce, and left me in the -lurch. I always took care to secure my money first; tho’ those -ungracious vipers of the army would rifle me now and then in spite of -all my precaution: for my lord, we whores are like the sea, what we gain -in one place we lose in another. Take her away, says my lord _Minos_, -take her away, see her fairly dipt every morning for this twelvemonth -over head and ears in good wholesome brimstone: to be both merchant and -merchandize, to sell her self for money and yet expect pleasure for it, -is worse exaction than was ever practised in _Lombard-street_ or -_Cornhil_. - -Our _Drury-lane_ nymph was no sooner carried off, but the soldier -advanced forward, and thus told his tale: My lord, you are not to expect -a fine speech from me, I am a soldier, and we soldiers are men of -action, and not of words. I was a barber’s prentice in the _strand_, -liv’d with him five years, got his maid with child, beat his wife for -pretending to reprove me, had run on score at all the painted lattices -in the neighbour-hood, and my circumstances being such, was easily -persuaded to turn gentleman-soldier. My captain promis’d to make me a -serjeant the very moment after I was listed, but he serv’d me just as he -did his creditors, whom, to my certain knowledge, he left in the lurch. -Well, my lord, I follow’d him to _Flanders_, where I stood buff to death -and damnation four campaigns, sometimes for a groat, sometimes for -nothing a-day. Had I more sins to answer for than either the colonel or -agent of our regiment, I have bustled thro’ misery enough to wipe out -all my scores, curtail’d of my pay to keep a double-chinn’d chaplain, -who never preach’d among us, and maintain an hospital, where I could -never expect to be admitted without bribery; forc’d for want of -subsistence to steal offal, which an hungry dog would piss upon, and if -discover’d sure to be rewarded with the wooden-horse, and lest the -unweildy beast shou’d throw me, secur’d by a brace of musquets dangling -on my heels; to lie up to the chin in water for preventing of -rheumatisms, and smoak wholesome dock-leaves to prevent being dunn’d by -my stomach; drubb’d and can’d without any provocation, by a smooth-fac’d -prig, who t’other day was a pimp, or something worse to a nobleman; -never sure of one hour’s rest in the night, never certain of a meal’s -meat in the day; harass’d with perpetual marches and counter marches; -roasted all the summer, and frozen all the winter; cheated by my -officer, cuckolded by my comrades. These, my lord, were the blessings of -my life, and if ever I could muster up pence enough to purchase a single -pint of _Geneva_, I thought myself in my kingdom. Last summer I was one -of the noble adventurers that went in the expedition to _Cadiz_, and -having secur’d a little linen to myself at _Fort St. Mary_’s in order to -make me a few shirts when I came home, and rubb’d off with two -insignificant silver puppets (I think they call them saints) out of a -church, the superior commander seiz’d upon them for his own private use, -in her majesty’s name, and legally plunder’d me of what I had as legally -stolen from the enemy. This and a thousand other disappointments, -together with change of climates and other inconveniences, threw such a -damp upon my spirits, that within three days after I landed at -_Portsmouth_, I fell ill, and was glad to part with a wretched life, -which had given me so much vexation and so little satisfaction. Thus my -lord, I have honestly laid all before you, so let the court sentence me -as they please. Why really, says the judge, thy case is hard enough, and -I must needs say thou dost not want any new weight to be laid upon thee; -and so immediately acquitted him, ordering him to be set at liberty -without paying of fees. - -Finding justice impartially administered in _Hell_, you may perhaps have -the curiosity, gentlemen, to enquire what sort of reception my lord -_Double_ of _Turn-about-hall_ found among us upon his arrival into these -dominions. I must tell you then, that to the universal admiration of our -infernal world, my lord is become _Pluto_’s great favourite, so that -nothing almost is transacted here without his advice and direction. -Every body indeed expected, that his lordship who changed his religion -on purpose to delude the unhappy prince, whose prime confident he was, -and at the same time kept a private correspondence with his enemy in -_Holland_, would have found an entertainment suitable to his deserts, -been loaded with chains, and regaled with liquid sulphur; but hitherto -he has either had the good luck, or management, to avoid it. A sudden -gust of wind had blown away the fan from the top of _Pluto_’s kitchin, -that very afternoon he came here. Our monarch was first in the mind to -clap his lordship’s breech upon the iron-spike, and make a weathercock -of him (the only thing he was fit for) that with every whiff of -brimstone he might tell where damnation sate. Soon after he was of -opinion to make a light-match of him to use upon occasion, whenever he -had any empire or kingdom to blow up. But at last carefully considering -his face, and the majesty of his gate, he made him his taylor, and to -say the truth, nobody knows the dimensions of his _Luciferian_ majesty -better than his lordship: and as it often happens in your world for -noblemen to be govern’d by their taylors or peruke-makers, so my lord in -his present capacity of taylor orders every thing at court, puts in and -displaces whom he pleases, and possesses _Pluto_’s ear to that degree, -that happening to be in company last week with _Aaron Smith_, Col. -_Wildman_, _Slingsby Bethel_, _C--rn--sh_, and others of the same -kidney, who heartily wish the prosperity of old _Hell_, they gravely -shook their heads, and said they were afraid their master _Pluto_’s -government would not long continue, since he had got a viper in his -bosom, and a traytor in his cabinet, who would not fail to conjure up -some neighbouring prince against him to dispossess him of his antient -throne. Indeed ’tis prodigious to consider how this dissembler has -wriggled himself into the good opinion not only of our sovereign, but -even of queen _Proserpine_. About a month ago he had interest enough to -get my late lord _Sh--ft--ry_, released out of the dungeon, where he has -been confined ever since his coming here, and made him administrator of -the _Clyster-Pipe_ to _Pluto_, for this merry reason, because he had -always a good hand at _striking at fundamentals_. That old libidinous -civilian of the _Commons_, Dr. _Littleton_, he has made judge admiral of -the _Stygian_ lake, and the famous Mr. _Alsop_, who wished in his -address to king _James_, that the dissenters had casements to their -breasts, he has got to be the devil’s glazier; nay, what will more -surprize you, he has procur’d the reversion of master of _Pluto_’s rough -game, when it falls, for Dr. _Oates_; and obtain’d a promise of -candle-snuffer-general to all the gaming-houses in these quarters, for -honest _George Porter_ the evidence. - - -_The Remainder of my Catalogue of_ CURES. - -_Timothy Addlepate_, of _Cheapside_, _Milliner_, was so wonderfully -afflicted with the _Zelotypia Italica_, that he constantly lock’d up his -simpering red-hair’d spouse, when business call’d him abroad, and would -hardly trust her with her aunt or grandmother. By rectifying his -constitution with my true _Covent-Garden_ ELIXIR, he is so intirely -cured of the _Icterus Martialis_, or his old _yellow distemper_ that now -of his own accord he carries her to the play-house, sends her to all the -balls, masquerades, and merry meetings in town; nay, trusts her alone at -_Epsom-Wells_ and _Richmond_, and will let her sit a whole afternoon -with a gay smooth-fac’d officer of the guards at the tavern, and is -never disturbed at it. - -_Jethro Lumm_, at the sign of the _Blue-ball_ and _Spotted-horse_, -between a _Cheesemonger_’s and _Perfumer_’s shops in -_Ratcliff-high-way_, by taking a few doses of my _Pulvis Vermifugus_, or -my _Antiverminous Powder_, voided above 30000 worms of all sorts, as -your _Ascarides_, _Teretes_, _Hirudines_, and so forth, in the space of -12 hours, one of which, by modest computation, was supposed long enough -to reach from St. _Leonard’s Shoreditch_, to _Tottenham high cross_. I -confess my medicine is a little bitter; but what says the learned -_Arabian_ philosopher _Hamet Ben Hamet Ben Haddu Albumazar_, A diadem -will not cure the _Apoplexy_, nor a velvet slipper the _Gout_: And are -not all the Antients as well as Neotorics agreed, that _raro corpus sine -vermibus_. Therefore, my good friends, be advis’d in time. - -_Ezekiel Driver_ of _Puddle-dock_, Carman, having disordered his _Pia -mater_ with too plentiful a morning’s draught of _three-threads_ and -_old Pharaoh_, had the misfortune to have his car run over him. The -whole street concluded him as good as dead, and the over-forward clerk -of the parish had already set him down in the weekly-bills. Two -applications of my _Unguentum Traumaticum_ set him immediately to -rights, and now he is coachman in ordinary to a Tallyman’s fat widow in -_Soho_. Witness his hand _E. D._ - -_Elnathan Ogle_, Anabaptist-teacher in _Morefields_ over-against the -_Grasshopper_ and _Greyhound_, for want of being carefully rubb’d down -by the pious females after his sudorifick exercise, had got the grease -in his heels, and was so violently troubled with rheumatical pains, that -he was no longer able to lay out himself for the benefit of his -congregation. My _Emplastrum Anodynum_ so effectually reliev’d him by -twice using of it, that he has since shifted his profession, teaches the -youth of _Finsbury-fields_ to play at back-sword and quarter-staff, and -has turn’d his conventicle in-for a fencing-school. - -_Marmaduke Thummington_, at the _Red-cow_ and _3 Travellers_ in -_Barbican_, was possess’d with an obstreperous ill condition’d devil of -a wife, whose everlasting clack incessantly thundering in his ears, had -made him as deaf as a drum. His case was so lamentable, that a -demiculverin shot over his head affected him no more than it would a man -20 miles off; he was insensible to all the betting and swearing of the -loudest cock-match, that ever was fought by two contending counties; -nay, at one of Mr. _Bays_’s fighting plays, would sit you as -unconcern’d, as if he had been at a Quakers silent meeting. After all -your _Elmys_, and other pretenders had despair’d of him, I undertook his -cure, and with a few of my _Otacoustical_ drops have so intirely -recover’d him, that the society of Reformers have made him their chief -director, and his hearing is so strangely improved, that at an -eaves-dropping at a window, he can hear oaths that were never sworn, and -bawdy that was never spoke. - -_Richard Bentlesworth_, superintendent of a small grammar-elaboratory, -in the out-skirts of the town, was so monstrously over-run with the -_Scorbuticum Pedanticum_, that he used to dumfound his milk-woman with -strange stories of _gerunds_ and _participles_; would decline you -_domus_ in a cellar in the _Strand_ before a parcel of chimney-sweepers, -and confute _Schioppius_ and _Alvarez_ to the old wall-ey’d matron, that -sold him grey pease. Tho’ this strange distemper, when once it has got -full possession of a man, is as hard to be cured as an hereditary-pox, -yet I have absolutely recovered him; so that now he troubles the publick -no more with any of his _Dutch-Latin_ dissertations; but is as quiet an -author as ever was neglected by all the town, or buried in -_Little-Britain_. - -_Timothy Gimcrack_, doctor of the noble cockle-shell-fraternity, whose -philosophy and learning lay so much under ground, that he had nothing of -either to show above it, used to be troubled with strange unaccountable -fits, and during the _paroxism_, would contrive new worlds, as boys -build houses of cards, find a thousand faults with old _Moses_, make a -hasty pudding of the universe, and drown it in a _Menstruum_ of his own -inventing, and leave the best patient in the city, for a new gay-coated -butterfly. I took out his brains, washed them in my _Aqua -Intellectualis_, and if has since relaps’d, who may he thank, but his -cursed _East-India_ correspondent, who addled his understanding a-new, -with sending him the furniture of a _Chinese_ barber’s-shop. - -_Nehemiah Drowsy_, grocer and deputy of his ward, was so prodigiously -afflicted with a lethargy, that his whole life was little better than a -dream. He would sleep even while he was giving the account of his own -pedigree, how from leathern breeches and nothing in them, he came to -the vast fortune he now possesses. Nay, over the pious spouse of his -bosom he has been often found asleep in an exercise which keeps all -other mortals awake. By following my sage directions he’s so wonderfully -alter’d for the better, that after a full dinner of roast-beef and -pudding he can listen to a dull sermon at _Salters-Hall_, without so -much as one yawn; nay, can hear his apprentice read two entire pages of -_Wesley_’s heroic poem, and never makes a nod all the while. - - _The End of my Catalogue of_ CURES. - -But to come to affairs of a more publick concern, we are in a strange -ferment here about the divided interests of the houses of _Austria_ and -_Bourbon_. Our master following herein the policy of the _Jesuits_, or -rather they following him, for we ought to give the devil his due, seems -to incline most to the latter: however, if the _Spaniards_ and _French_ -set up their horses no better in your world than they do with us, ’tis -easy to predict that the unnatural conjuction of the two kingdoms will -be soon shatter’d to pieces. Whenever they meet, there’s such roaring -and swearing, and calling of names between them, that we expect every -minute when they will go to loggerheads. ’Tis true some few of the dons -that are lately arriv’d here, call’d _Lewis-le-Grand_ their protector, -and are _Frenchify’d_ to a strange degree; but the rest of their -countrymen call them a parcel of degenerate rascals, and are so -violently bent against them, that unless _Pluto_ lock’d them up a nights -in distinct apartments, we should have the devil and all to do with -them. - -Next to the affairs of _France_ and _Spain_, are we concerned about the -fate of the occasional bill; a few old fashion’d virtuosos among us hope -it will pass, but the generality of our politicians, and particularly -those belonging to _Pluto_’s cabinet, who are stiled the congregation -_de inferno ampliando_, are resolv’d at any rate to hinder its taking -effect. As hypocrisy sends greater numbers to hell, than any other sins -whatever, you are not to wonder if the ministry here do all they can to -oppose the passing of a bill, which will prove so destructive to the -infernal interest by destroying hypocrisy. For which reason _Pluto_ has -lately dispatch’d several trusty emissaries to your parts, who are to -bribe your observators and other mercenary pamphleteers, to raise a -hedious outcry about persecution, and represent this design in such -odious colours to the people, that, if posible, it may miscarry. A -little time will show us the success of this refin’d conduct. - -One short story, gentlemen, and then I have done. A _Spaniard_ last week -was commending the authors of his own country, and particularly enlarg’d -upon the merits of the voluminous long-winded _Tostatus_, who, he said, -had writ above a cart-load of books in his time. But why should I talk -of a cart-load, continues he, when he has writ more than ’tis possible -for any one single man to read over in his life? judge then of the worth -of this indefatigable _Tostatus_; judge how many tedious nights and days -he must have spent in study. Under favour, cries an _English_ gentleman -lately arrived here, we have a writer that much exceeds your famous -_Tostatus_, even in that respect. His name is _Bentivoglio_, and tho’ at -present he falls somewhat short of your author, as to the number of -books of his own composing, yet he has writ one octavo, which I’ll defy -any man in the universe to read over, tho’ he has the patience of _Job_, -the constitution of _Sampson_, and the long age of _Methuselah_. - -But hold--I forget who I am writing to all this while; gentlemen that -have either more business or pleasure upon their hands, than to go thro’ -the tedious persecution of so unmerciful a letter. However, I hope -you’ll pardon me this fault, if you consider the great difficulty of -transmitting the _nouvelles_ of our subterranean world to your parts; -for which reason I was resolv’d rather to trespass upon your patience, -than lose this opportunity of giving you an account of all our memorable -transactions. If in requital of this small trouble I have given myself, -you will be so kind as to order any one of your society, to inform me -how affairs go at present in _Covent-Garden_, at St. _James_’s &c. what -news the dramatick world affords in _Drury-lane_, _Lincolns-Inn-Fields_, -and _Smithfield_, as ’twill be the most sensible obligation you can lay -upon me, so it shall be remember’d with the utmost gratitude by, - -_Gentlemen, Your most obedient Servant_, - -GIUSIPPE HANESIO. - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -CERTAMEN EPISTOLARE, - -Between an _Attorney_ of _Cliffords-Inn_ and a dead _Parson_. By Mr. T. -BROWN. - - -The ARGUMENT. - - _A fellow of a college came up to town about business; which - detaining him there much longer than he expected, he was forc’d to - borrow five pounds of his landlady, a widow in_ Shoe-lane, _and - promis’d to pay her within a month. At his return to_ Cambridge, _a - living in_ Lincolnshire _fell vacant, and the_ College _presented - him to it. On the day of his institution he drank so plentifully - with his parishioners, that he fell sick of a fever, which - dispatch’d him in a few days. All this while the widow wonder’d - what was become of the gentleman; and after several months - forbearance, having no news of him, employ’d an_ Attorney _of_ - Clifford’s-Inn _to write to him for the five pounds. The letter - coming to the_ College _some eight months after our_ Parson_’s - decease, a gentleman of the same house had the curiosity to open - it; and to carry on the frolick, answer’d it in the name of the - dead man, which gave occasion to the following commerce_. - - -LETTER I. - -_To Mr.---- at his Chambers in---- College in_ Cambridge. - -_SIR_, - -_Ingatum fi dixere omnia dixeris_, was the saying of one of the greatest -sages of antiquity; to whose name and merits I presume you can be no -stranger. _Perit quod facias ingrato_, was likewise the saying of -another _Græcian_ philosopher, as you will find in _Erasmus_’s adagies. -_Save a thief from the gallows and he’ll cut your throat_, is a proverb -of our own growth; and we have a thousand instances in antient and -modern history to confirm the truth of it. - -Indeed ingratitude is so monstrous and execrable a vice, that, according -to the _Roman_ orator’s observation (I need not tell you, that when I -say the _Roman_ orator, I always mean _Tully_) the very earth itself, -the _bruta tellus_, as _Horace_ deservedly calls it, is a standing -testimony against all ungrateful men, and rises up in judgment against -them. For does not this earth, the vilest of the four elements, make -grateful returns to the husbandman for the little cost and pains he -bestows upon her? Does she not sometimes give thirty, sometimes twenty, -and at least ten measures of corn for the one he entrusted her with? -Whereas an ungrateful wretch is so far from doubling or trebling a -kindness done to him, that ’tis next door to a miracle, if he can be -brought to give back the principal. - -And now, Sir, you’ll ask me, I suppose, what I mean by declaming thus -againgst ingratitude, any more than simony or sacrilege, or any other -sin whatever; and particularly how this comes to affect you? Why, Sir, -don’t be so hasty, I beseech you, and you’ll soon be satisfied. - -You must understand me then, that one Mrs. _Rebecca Blackman_, widow, -who lives at the sign of the _Griffin_ in _Shoe-lane_, (I suppose, Sir, -somebody’s conscience begins to fly in his face by this time) told me, -that a certain gentleman of _Cambridge_, who very much resembles you in -name, face, and person, (and now Sir, I humbly conceive that somebody -that shall be nameless blushes) borrow’d of her upon the first of -_April_, 1698, in the tenth year of his majesty king _William_’s reign, -the sum of five pounds, (well Sir, let him blush on, for blushing is a -sign of grace) which he promis’d to repay her _in verbo sacerdotis_, -within a month after, (good Lord! to see how canonically some people can -break their words) upon the word of a gentleman, as he was a christian, -and all that. But mind what follows, Sir. This worthy gentleman, I told -you of, altho’ he was bound to the performance of his promise by all -that was good and sacred; and if good and sacred would not bind him, by -a note under his own hand, wherein he promis’d to pay to Mrs. _Rebecca -Blackman_, widow, or order, the aforesaid sum of five pounds upon -demand; nevertheless, and notwithstanding all this, he has not had the -manners so much as to send her a letter to excuse himself for this -delay, and takes no more notice of her, than if he had never seen any -such person as Mrs. _Rebecca Blackman_ in all his life. - -She being therefore my antient acquaintance and friend, and one for whom -I profess to have a very great value, desir’d me to write a few lines to -you, which accordingly I have done, and by her order I request you, as -being a person of great civility and candour, to tell the aforesaid -gentleman, (whom as I am informed you may see every morning in the year, -if you have a looking-glass in your room, which I will in charity -suppose) that she expects to have the five pounds _supradict_ within a -fortnight at farthest, and then all will be well: otherwise she must be -forc’d, in her own defence, to employ the secular arm, _anglicè_, a -baliff or catchpole, and put the abovemention’d person into lobb’s -pound. - -Now, Sir, having a great regard to mother university, (of which I might -have been an unworthy member, had not my uncle----) and likwise being -desirous to prevent farther effusion of christian money, I make it my -humble request to you to speak to the aforesaid gentleman, that he would -send me the sum of five pounds with all expedition; and in so doing you -will in a most particular manner oblige, - -_Sir_, - -_Your most humble tho’ -unknown Servant_, - -W. H. - -From my Chambers -in _Clifford_’s-Inn. - - -ANSWER I. - -_To Mr._ W. H. _Attorney at Law, at his Chambers in_ Clifford’_s-Inn_ - -_Worthy Sir_, - -Yesterday morning, about eight of the clock precisely, the sun being -newly entred into _Sagittarius_, and the wind standing at south-east by -east; which corner, as the learned abbot _Joachimus Trithemius_, in his -elaborate treatise, intitled, _Eurus Enucleatus_, tells us, is a -certain prognostick of droughts and hot weather; I was smoaking a pipe -of tobacco, and reading _Erasmus_’s _Moriæ Encomium_ of the _Basil_ -edition, printed by _Frobenius_, who, you know, Sir, married -_Christopber Plantin_’s cook-maid, when to my great surprize, the -post-boy brought me a letter from one _W. H._ who pretends to date it -from his chambers in _Clifford_’s-Inn; tho’ as far as I can judge of the -beast by his stile and way of writing, he ought to have a room no where -but in the brick-house in _Moorfields_. - -For, Sir, the author of it, and I desire you to tell him so much from -me, seems to rave, and in his raving fit disgorges old buckram -_Apophthegms_ and ends of _Latin_ stolen out of _Lycosthenes_; and in -short, at the expence of other folks, throws his thread-bare quotations -about him like a madman, as you will soon perceive, if you’ll give -yourself the trouble to read what follows. - -I. This retainer to the law, Sir, begins his letter with _Ingratum si -dixere omnia dixere_; and has the impudence to tell me, that it was a -saying of one of the greatest sages of antiquity, as if a man were a jot -the wiser for his calling him so; and, like a presuming coxcomb as he -is, presumes I am no stranger to his name and merits. Pray, Sir, tell -him from me, that he has falsify’d his quotation; for which crime, by an -old statute of king _Ina_, as you will find in _Gothofred_ and -_Panormitanus_, he ought to do penance in a certain wooden machine, -call’d in _Latin_, _Collistrigium_, and in _English_ a _Pillory_; and -that in all the antient manuscripts both in the _Vatican_ and _Bodleian_ -libraries, not to mention those of the duke of _Courland_, and the -prince of _Hesse-Darmstadt_, ’tis written, _Attornatum si dixeris, omnia -dixeris_; which is as much as to say, Sir, that if you call a man an -attorney, you call him all the rogues and rascals in the world. - -II. Before I proceed any farther, I must beg the favour of you to inform -him, that we are much surpriz’d here to find an attorney guilty of so -much nonsense, as to send down _Latin_ to the university, where we have -more than we know well what to do with. ’Tis as bad as sending -_Derby_-ale from _Fullwood_’s-rents to the town of _Derby_, or sturgeon -to _Huntingdon_. In fine, as he has manag’d matters, ’tis downright -_murderium_ (he knows the meaning of that word) for which he must never -expect the benefit of the clergy. - -To pass over his next idle quotation, and an old batter’d _English_ -proverb; the next person he falls upon, is the _Roman_ orator; and with -his usual discretion, he gives me to understand that he means _Tully_ by -him. ’Tis well he tells us whom he means; for of all the men in the -world, I thought an attorney had as little to do with an orator, as a -bawd with an eunuch. But why should a fellow that never meant any thing -in his life, pretend to meaning? Or how came _Tully_ and such a -blockhead to be acquainted? Well, but _Tully_, he says, observes that -the earth itself, which, I hope by the bye, will one of these days stop -his pettifegging mouth, for calling it the vilest of the four elements, -is a standing testimony against ingratitude; and why forsooth, because -it returns the husbandman two for one. I can’t imagine how it should -come into this wretch’s head to rail at ingratitude, who is the most -ungrateful devil that ever liv’d; and ’tis ten to one but I prove it -before I have done with him. He is ungrateful in the first place to his -schoolmaster, for making no better use of the _Latin_ he wipp’d into -him. He is ungrateful to the _Common Law_, for polluting it which wicked -sentences purloin’d out of _Pagan_ authors: and lastly, he is ungrateful -to the _Inn_ he lives in, for dreaming seven whole years there to no -purpose, and continuing as great a blockhead as when he first come to -town. - -Towards the conclusion of his letter, _you must understand_, says he, -_that one_--This he said to show his civility and good manners; _You -must understand_? Why suppose I won’t _understand_, how will he help -himself? Or what man alive can understand a fellow that murders his -thoughts between two languages? but I find I must _understand_ him right -or wrong. After this compliment, he tells me an idle foolish story of a -widow in _Shoe-lane_, and raves about five pounds, that I know nothing -of; and is so full of it that a few lines below he calls it the sum -_supradict_. I shall take another opportunity to knock this impertinent -tale on the head, and shall only desire you at present to acquaint this -_W. H._ from me, that when he has answer’d this letter, I design to give -him satisfaction in his other points. In the mean time, unknown Sir, I -am as the _Roman_ orator has it, - -_Tuus ab ovo usque ad mala_, -Q. Z. - - -LETTER II. - -_SIR_, - -I don’t know what plenty of _Latin_ you may have in the _University_; -tho’, by the bye, I can hardly believe you are so overstock’d with it as -you pretend; but I dare swear that _good manners_ are very scarce things -among you, and your letter sufficiently demonstrates it. - -You are angry with me, it seems, for quoting a few _Latin_ sentences; I -am afraid ’tis the meaning of them, and not the language that disgusts -you; for some people can’t endure to hear the truth told them in any -tongue whatever: but, under favour, _Sir_, what mighty virtue should -there be in the air of _Oxford_ and _Cambridge_, that _Latin_ should -only flourish there? Or why should not _Tully_ take up his quarters in -the _Inns_ of _Chancery_, as well as one of your _Colleges_? I am sure -we can give him better meat and drink, and perhaps have cleaner and -larger rooms to entertain him. - - _Non obtusa adeo gestamus pectora_ POENI, - _Nec tam aversus equoss TYRIA sol jungit ab urbe_. - -The meaning of these two verses are, (for why should not I interpret my -_Latin_ to you, as well as you have taken the freedom to explain your’s -to me?) that _London_ is not so barbarous and unpolish’d a place, but -that _Apollo_, and the nine _Muses_ may find as hospitable a reception -there, as with you in the university. - -But, _Sir_, I have no time to lose, tho’ you have. The widow is pressing -for her money, the _Term_ draws on apace, and I must know your answer -one way or other. Therefore let me desire you in your next, not to -ramble from the point in hand, but to keep to the text. Once in your -life take _Martial_’s advice, _Dic aliquid de tribus capellis_; here’s -_Latin_ for you again; but the advice is good and seasonable. Once more -leave off flourishing and come immediately to business, that I may know -what measures to take. - -_I am, -Yours, as you use me_, -W.H. - - -ANSWER II. - -_SIR_, - -You charge me with want of manners in the _University_. Now to convince -you that your accusation is groundless, frivolous and vexatious, I will -take no notice of the scurrilous reflections in your letter, but, as you -desire me, fall immediately to business. - -To sum them up in a few lines what you have bestow’d so many upon, you -tell me that a certain gentleman of my acquaintance, meaning myself, I -suppose, whom in your excess of charity, you believe to have a -looking-glass in his chamber, and a great deal of the like stuff, -borrow’d five pounds last _April_ of one _Rebecca Blackman_, widow, and -spinster, living at the sign of the _Griffin_ and _Red-lion_ in -_Shoe-lane_, and has not paid her as he promis’d. Now, _Sir_, if I make -it appear to you that there is no such a thing as a widow _in rerum -natura_, or a _Griffin_, or a _Red-lion_; that _Shoe-lane_ is an -equivocal word; and that ’tis impossible for a man that lives under the -evangelical dispensation to owe any such _heathenish sum_ as five -pounds; I hope you’ll be brought to knock under the table, and own that -you have given me and yourself a great deal of unnecessary trouble. - -_First of all_, I affirm, assert and maintain, that there is no such -thing as a widow in the universe; and thus I prove it. A _widow_ is one -that laments and grieves for the loss of her husband; but how can you or -any man in _London_ know that a woman really grieves? for shedding of -tears, and wearing of crape, are not sure signs of grief; consequently -then how can you be sure there is any such thing as a widow? And if so, -are not you an insufferable coxcomb to palm a widow upon a stranger, -that never did you any harm? Well, but suppose it were possible for a -man to know that a woman really grieves for the loss of her husband, -which proposition, let me tell you, _Heroboord Burgersdicius_, and the -whole stream of the _Dutch_ commentators and _Peleponnesian_ divines -positively deny; how shall we be able to find out this monster, and tell -where the place of her abode is? Why, say you, she lives at the sign of -the _Griffin_ and _Red Lion_ in _Shoe-lane_? Bless us! what a sad thing -it is to be troubled with a distemper’d brain! _Imprimis_, a _Griffin_ -is a new _ens rationis_, only devis’d by the imagination, and is no -where to be found, no not in the deserts of _Arabia_, or the vast -forests of _Afric_; altho’ _Afric_, Sir, ever since the time of -_Eratosthenes_ and _Strabo_, has been said continually to produce some -new monster: and as for a _Red Lion_, I defy you and all the attornies -in the kingdom to shew me one. _Theophrastus_, _Ælian_, _Dionysius_, -_Harmogistus de miraculis_, _Perogunius de brutis_, _Philopemen junior -de robusta natura_, and a hundred more of worth and credit, whom I have -read, and you never heard nam’d, either in _Westminster-hall_, or -_Westminster-abbey_. But since these are pagan authors, it may be you -will pretend they ought to have no weight with a christian, and I know -you will be damn’d before you will allow of any thing against your own -mammon; therefore I shall proceed to give you more modern accounts of -what has been remark’d in the most natural places for to expect monsters -in, and yet the devil of a _Red Lion_ do they mention. _Don Gonsales_ -gives us a particular of all the wonders, miracles and strange things in -the habitable part of the moon; _Mandevil_’s _Travels_, _Piuto_’s and -_de la Val_’s, the most fabulous of the poets, the most lying pilgrims -and extravagant historians, never dar’d to have the impudence to impose -so much upon mankind as to assert the being of a _Red Lion_. - -Now if human reason, experience in so many places, and no proof any -where can have place, as it ought to do with a lawyer, I hope here are -enough to convince you of your error; but if nothing under ocular -demonstration will satisfy you, and you are not at leisure to turn over -so many volumes, let me request you, worthy Sir, to take a step to the -tower, and if you don’t find what I say to be true, I promise you here -under my hand to give you a hundred pounds, _bonæ & legalis monetæ -Angliæ_, the next time I meet you. - -However, for peace sake, let us once admit, that _Griffins_ and _Red -Lions_, are real things, and no fictions of the brain, as _Smeglesius_ -hath evidently prov’d it, in what street or square, or lane, or alley, -is the abovemention’d Mrs. _Rebecca Blackman_ to be found? Oh, cry you -in _Shoe-lane_. Come Sir, _Shoe-lane_ is a fallacy which you must not -pretend to put upon a man that has taken his own degrees, and writes -himself _A. M._ don’t you know, that _dolus latet in universalibus_? -Whatever lane people walk in they must certaintly wear out shoe-leather; -and in whatever lane they wear out shoe-leather, that lane, in propriety -of speech, deserves and may challenge the name of _Shoe-lane_; -consequently then, every lane, not only in _London_, but in all his -majesty’s dominions, where the subjects of _England_ walk, and wear out -shoe-leather, may properly be call’d _Shoe-lane_. Judge then whether -ever I shall be able to find out the true place where this widow lives -by the equivocal description you have given of it. As for my _Major_, I -defy you or any of your brethren in wicked parchment, to find out the -least hole in it. My _Minor_ is as plain as the sun at noon-day; and you -may as well run your head against a brick-wall, as pretend to attack it; -and then the consequence must be good of course. I would take this -opportunity to shew the falshood and vanity of the remaining part of -your letter; but the bell-rings for supper: however, I shall take care -to do it next post; at which time you may certainly expect to hear -farther from - -_Your most humble servant_, Q. Z. - - -ANSWER III. - -I fully demonstrated to you in my last, that there was no such thing as -a _Widow_; or suppose there was, that it was morally impossible for a -man to know it. After this, I proceeded to show, that your _Griffin_ was -romantick, your _Red Lyon_ fabulous; and that _Shoe-lane_ by being every -lane, was consequently no lane at all. Now, _Sir_, I come to consider -the following part of your letter, where with your usual ingenuity and -good manners, you tell me I am indebted the sum of five pounds to the -widow abovemention’d; and I doubt not to lay open the vanity of this -allegation, as well as of those that preceded it. Sir, give me leave to -tell you, that ’tis impossible that--should owe any such sum as five -pounds. Is it to be imagin’d that a--should trespass against a plain -positive express text of scripture? This is what the worst of our -adversaries, either papists or other sectaries, of what title or -denomination soever, would not have the impudence to charge us with. -Does not St. _Paul_ positively say, _Owe no man any thing but love_? How -then can I owe this chimerical widow of your own making that heathenish -sum called five pounds? Indeed if there is any such person, I owe her a -great deal of love, as the text commands me; but as for five pounds, I -owe it her not: and for this, as I have already observ’d to you, I can -produce a plain positive text of scripture, which I hope you will not be -so wicked as to deny. - -In short, _Sir_, I am afraid that the law has discompos’d your brain, -and this I conclude from your incoherent citations of _Latin_, your -raving of _Griffins_ and _Red Lions_, of _Widows_ and _five pounds_. -Therefore, tho’ I am wholly a stranger to you, yet, as you are a native -of this kingdom, I heartily wish your cure, and shall do whatever lies -in my power to effect it, for which reason I desire you to take notice -of the following advice. It being now spring time, at which season -according to the observation of the learned _Zarabella_ and -_Ciacconius_, the humours begin to ferment and float in all human -bodies, I would advise you to correct the saline particles, with which I -perceive your blood is overcharg’d, with good wholsome nettle-broth and -watergruel every morning alternately; but take care to put no currants -or sugar into your watergruel, because, as the judicious _Frenelius_, in -has _Diatriba de usu_, affirms, currants excite choler, and sugar has an -ill effect upon the diaphragm, glandula pinealis. Then, Sir, thrice a -week at least, refrigerate your intestines with good salutary clysters, -and take some eighteen ounces of blood away about two hours before the -clyster is administred to you. Above all let me conjure you to forbear -stuff’d beef, salt fish, pepper and hot spices, and what is full as -pernicious as pepper and hot spices, the reading of any _Latin_ authors, -for fear they should raise a new rebellion in the humours: sage and -butter, with a glass or two of clarify’d whey moderately taken in a -morning, may be of singular use. Go to bed early, and rise betimes. If -you live up to these directions, I do not doubt but you’ll be your own -man again in a little time. Having no farther interest in all this than -only effecting your cure, I persuade my self you will be so much your -own friend as to follow the advice of - -_Your humble Servant_, -Q. Z. - - -LETTER III. - -_SIR_, - -Since you were so wonderfully kind in your last letter, as out of your -great liberality to honour me with some of your own directions, I am -resolv’d not to be behind-hand with you in point of courtesy, and -therefore recommend the following rules to your consideration. - -In the first place, I crave leave to inform you, that syllogisms and -sophistry pay no debts; That as old birds are not to be caught with -chaff, so a lawyer is not to be imposed upon by thin frothy arguments; -and that _Aristotle_, let him make never so great a figure in the -schools, has no manner of authority in _Westminster-hall_, where I can -assure you they won’t take his _ipse dixit_ for a groat. - -Secondly, I would advise you not to have so great an opinion of your own -parts, as to despise the rest of the world, and think to palm any of -your little banters upon them. ’Tis enough in all conscience, I think, -that you take the liberty to dumfound us with your _Fathers_ and -_Councils_ in the pulpit, which we of the laity are forced to take upon -content; and therefore you may spare them elsewhere. - -Thirdly, and lastly, When you run in any one’s debt, ’tis my counsel, -and I give it you for nothing, that you would take care to see the party -satisfy’d in good current money, for fear a wicked _Moabite_ should -compel you to it, which, between friends, will not be much for your -reputation. As this is the last letter you are like to receive from me, -I make it once more my request to you to observe the contents of it: for -I am not at leisure to trifle any longer with you: otherwise a -stone-doublet is the word, and wars must ensue, which every good -christian ought to prevent, if it lies in his power. I am, unless you -give me further provocation, - -_Your Humble Servant_, W. H. - -P. S. _Your old friend the widow, is sorry to hear you have made so -familiar with her, as to call her being in question; as likewise that of -her_ Griffin _and_ Red Lion. _As for your love, having no occasion for -it at present, she desires you to bestow it elsewhere; but is resolv’d, -notwithstanding all your learned quirks and quiddities, to get her five -pounds again; and when she has it in her pocket, for your sake she’ll -never trust it with a logician, that would_ ergo _her out of what is her -own_. - - -ANSWER IV. - -I received your last, for which I return you my hearty thanks, and am -entirely of your opinion, that old birds are not to be caught with -chaff; I find, Sir, you are a great admirer of old proverbs, and I -commend you for it, for a great deal of morality and wholsome knowledge -is to be pick’d out of them: besides, Sir, they are like the Common law -of _England_, and derive their authority from usage and custom. Now I am -talking of proverbs, there is one comes into my head at present, which I -desire you to ruminate or chew the cud upon. In short, ’tis _Birds of a -feather flock together_, which is effectually and literally fulfill’d -when an attorney and a pickpocket are in the same company. - -I am likewise of opinion, worthy Sir, that what you say of _Aristotle_’s -making none of the best figures in _Westminster-hall_, may be true; for -how can that plodding animal call’d a philosopher, expect civil quarter -from the sons of noise and clamour? But by the by, Sir, I must take the -freedom to tell you, that some of his friends here take it very ill, -that you the black guard of _Westminster-hall_ will not take his word -for a groat. Sir, that diminutive contemptible piece of money a groat, -Sir, three of which go to the making up of that important sum, -denominated by the vulgar a shilling. Is it not very barbarous and -inhuman, that _Aristotle_, formerly tutor to the greatest monarch in the -universe, (when I say the greatest monarch in the universe, I neither -mean _Bajazet_, nor _Tamerlane_, nor _Scanderberg_, nor _Pipin_, nor yet -the _French_ king, but _Alexander the great_) whose _ipse dixit_ would -have formerly gone more current than our present _Exchequer_ notes, or -_Malt_ tickets, in any tavern, inn, or victualling-house, between the -_Hellespont_ and the _Ganges_, for a thousand pounds upon occasion: is -it not barbarous and inhuman, I say, that this same _Aristotle_ should -not be trusted for a groat in _Westminster-hall_? That language one -would hardly have expected either from _Goth_, _Vandal_, or _Hun_, but -much less from a person of your civility and learning. - -But alas! Sir, _Ætas parentum pejor avis_; we live in the fag-end of a -most degenerate ungrateful age, that has no regard to _Greek_ or -_Latin_. _Oh tempora & mores!_ was the complaint of a great virtuoso two -thousand years ago, which we have but too much reason to renew now. Oh, -_Aristotle, Aristotle_! that I should ever live to see thy venerable -name in so much contempt, that any one belonging to _Westminster-hall_, -should have the impudence to say, he will not trust thee for a groat! -_Ultra Sauromatas fugere hinc libet._ I dare swear, that even in -_Muscovy_ and _Poland_, none of the most hospitable countries in the -world, thou mayst at any time take a good dinner and a gallon of brandy -upon thy _Entilechia_ and _Actus perspecui_, and yet in -_Westminster-Hall_, the most enlighten’d hall of the most enlighten’d -city of _Christendom_, thy _ipse dixit_ in so much vogue formerly with -the _Thomists_ and _Scotists_, the _Nominalists_ and _Realists_, should -not pass for a groat! So much, _Sir_, by way of answer, to _Aristotle_ -and _Westminster-Hall_, _ipse dixit_, and a groat. - -What you say in a following paragraph concerning the wicked _Moabite_ -and the _Stone Doublet_, is very picquant and ingenious: for, Sir, -reading Mr. _Hobbs_’s chapter about _Concatenation of Thought_, I find -there is a great connection between the _Moabite_ and _Stone doublet_; -and some of the modern itineraries inform us, that stone doublets are in -mighty request with the people of those countries to this very day; and -the physical reason they assign for it, is, because stone doublets are -very refrigerating and alexpharmick, which undoubtedly is a great -refreshment in so hot a climate, as that where the wicked _Moabite_ -lived. - -But, _Sir_, in lieu of the advice, which, out of your great bounty and -liberality, you were pleas’d to give me for nothing, be pleas’d to -accept of the following character, which I give myself the trouble to -transcribe out of an ancient MS. in the _Cotton-Library_, suppos’d to be -written by the famous _Junius_, who for his great skill in the oriental -languages, acquir’d the sirname of _Patricius_; and this character, -unless I am mistaken in my mathematicks, will give you a lively idea of -a certain beast you may perhaps be acquainted with. - -An attorney is one that lives by the undoing of his neighbours, as -surgeons do by broken heads and claps, and like judges that always bring -rain with them to the assizes, is sure to bring mischief with him -wherever he comes. He’s an animal bred up by the corruption of the law, -nurs’d up in discord and contention, and has a particular cant to -himself, by which he terrifies the poor country people who worship him -as the _Indians_ do the devil, for fear he should mischief ’em. He is a -constant resorter to fairs and markets, and has a knack to improve the -least quarrel into a law-suit. He talks as familiarly of my lord chief -justice as if he had known him from his cradle, and threatens all that -incur his displeasure with leading them a jaunt to _Westminster-hall_. -If his advice be ask’d upon the most insignificant trifle, he nods his -head, twirls his pen in his ear, and cries ’twill bear a noble action; -and when he has empty’d the poor wretch’s pocket, advises him to make up -the matter, drink a merry cup with his adversary, and be friends. He -affects to be thought a man of business, and quotes statutes as -fiercely, as if he had read over _Keble_ and got him by heart. The -catchpole is his constant companion, by the same token they are as -necessary to one another, as a midwife to a bawd, or an apothecary to a -grave physician. While he lives, he is a perpetual persecutor of all the -country about him; but fattens by being cursed, as they say camomile -grows by being trod upon. At last, the devil serves an execution upon -his person, hurries him to his own quarters, in whose clutches I leave -him. - -If this character may be of any service to you, I shall heartily -rejoice, it being my highest ambition to approve my self, - -_Your most_, &c. Q. Z. - - -ANSWER V. - -Nay, _Sir_, since you are so peremptory and all that, I have sent you my -last conclusive answer, and am resolv’d to be plagu’d with you no -longer. Hoping therefore that your worship is in good health, as your -humble servant is at this present writing, this comes to let you know -(nay don’t startle, I beseech you) that I am fairly and honestly dead -(oh! fy, Sir, why should you be discompos’d at so small a matter as that -is) in short, dead to all intents and purposes as a door-nail; or if -that won’t serve your turn, as dead as _Methusalah_, or any of the -patriarchs before the flood. And because, Sir, I am in a very good -humour at present, and somewhat dispos’d to be merry (which you’ll say -is somewhat odd in a dead man) and besides having a mighty respect for a -person of your worth and gravity, I will let you know what distemper I -dy’d of, and give you the whole history of my illness from _Dan_ to -_Beersheba_. Upon the _20th_ of _July_ last, old stile, I was invited to -a christning in a certain village in _Lincolnshire_, where I had the -honour of being vicar; and by a strange fatality was over-persuaded to -eat some custard, which is the most pernicious aliment in the world, but -especially in the dog-days. Since I have been in the _Elysian Fields_, -meeting with _Galen_ and _Dioscorides_ the other day, I told them my -case, and both of ’em told me that custard had done my business. _Galen_ -whisper’d me in the ear, and told me that whatever sham stories the -historians had palm’d upon the world _Trajan_ got his death by nothing -but eating of custard at _Antioch_, and mention’d two or three other -eminent persons that had their heels tript up by that pernicious food. -_Dioscorides_ added farther, that custard was destructive of the -intellect, and conjur’d me that the next time I writ to any of my -acquaintance in _London_, I would desire them to present his most humble -service to my _Lord Mayor_ and court of _Aldermen_, and advise ’em as -from him to refrain from custard, because it obnubilated the -understanding, and was detrimental to the memory. So much by way of -digression, but now, Sir, to proceed in the history of my illness: this -eating of custard first of all gave me a cachexy, and ’twas my -misfortune that there was no brandy to be had in the house, for in all -probability a cogue of true orthodox _Nantz_, would have corrected the -crudity of the custard. This cachexy in twelve hours turn’d to a _Dolor -alvi_, that to a _Peripneumonia_ in the _Diaphragm_, and that to an -_Epyema_ in the _Glandula Pinealis_. Upon this a hundred other -distempers came pouring upon me like thunder and lightning, for you know -when a man is once going, _down with him_ is the word; that very fairly -dispatch’d me in four days, and so I dy’d without a doctor to help to -dispatch me, or an attorney to make my will. A little before I troop’d -off, I desir’d my parishoners to bury me under the great church-spout -which accordingly they did, I thank ’em for’t, and upon every shower of -rain I find a refreshment by it; for you must know that when I was -living, I was very thirsty in my nature, and abounded in adust cholerick -humours. - -I believe, Sir, you might have writ to a thousand and a thousand dead -men, who would never have given themselves the trouble to answer your -letters, or have been so communicative of their secrets as you have -found me; but, Sir, I scorn to act under-board. And if this don’t -satisfy all your doubts, I can only wish I had you here with me, to give -you farther conviction. - -And now Sir, let me desire you to put your hand to your heart, and -consider calmly and sedately with yourself, whether it be not illegal as -well as barbarous, to disturb the repose of the dead, and persecute them -in their very graves? You that are so full of your _Cases_ and your -_Precedents_, tell me what _Case_ or _Precedent_ you can alledge to -justify so unrighteous a _Procedure_? Is it not a known maxim in law, -that death puts a stop to all _Processes_ whatsoever, and that when a -man has once paid the great debt of nature, he has compounded for all -the rest? How then can you make me amends for the injuries you have done -me, and the great charges you have put me to? For upon the faith and -honour of a dead man, the very passage of your letters to this -subterranean world, has cost me above five pounds, the pretended sum you -charge me with. However, if Heaven will forgive you, for my part I do; -and to show you, that after so many horrid provocations I am still in -charity with you, I remain, - -_Your defunct Friend and Servant_, -Q. Z. - -Feb. 5. _From the_ -Elysian-Fields. - -P. S. _All the news that I can send you from this part of the world, is, -that we are troubled with none of your pofession here, which is no small -part of our happiness, I assure you; and, upon a strict enquiry, I find, -that not one_ Attorney _for these 1500 years, has been so impudent, as -to give St._ Peter _the trouble of using his keys_. - - -The End of the _Letters_ from the DEAD to the LIVING. - - - - -Dialogues of the DEAD. - -In Imitation of _LUCIAN_. - -The Scene HELL. - - -_The Trial of_ CUCKOLDS. - -_Lucifer._ Hold! porter, shut the gates of this our angust court, that -we may not be thus throng’d. Let no more come in, ’till we have clear’d -the bench of these numbers we have before us already. - -_Porter._ Mighty emperor, your commands shall be obey’d. - -_Lucif._ Now, my noble lords, set we ourselves to search and examine -what of late years brings daily such gluts and spring-tides of souls to -our infernal mansions, ’specially at this time, when neither war, -famine, nor plague, are abroad in the upper world, or at least in that -part of it from whence I observe most of this gang arrive; _Europe_ I -mean: if there were war, ’twould be no wonder so many were damn’d; the -liberties of the sword surprize enough in their sins to throng our -courts of justice: nor is the plague without advantages for us that way; -the few that have spiritual relief, in such contagious and -quickly-destroying distempers, encrease our crop: and the general -cruelty of mankind is such, that in famine, those that have will keep -for themselves and their dogs, and let the rest of their own species -perish, without so much as a pitying look: and this makes many atheists -in their wants, and does that, without our instigation, which we could -not perswade _Job_ to do, that is, _Curse God, and die_. - -But, my lords, when none of these, our loyal vassals, are abroad, ’tis -not strange that I am to seek in the cause of this great concourse at -our tribunal; and, therefore, that virtue, for want of reward and due -praise, may not slacken, we will examine to what industrious friend we -owe this unexpected success; wherefore, you minor devils and -under-officers of our court, bring them in order to the bar, and let no -devil of honour, that has past that inferior office of touching the -uncleanness of humanity, defile himself with too near an approach to any -of them. - - [_Here several lacquey-devils and porter-devils, with the rest of - the mob of hell, bring on the first band to the bar in_ Italian - _garbs_.] - -Speak, criminal, whence thou art? Of what nation, quality, or condition -in the world? And what’s the happy cause of thy coming hither? - -_Ghost._ First, Signor, adjust some points in dispute, which highly -concern the honour of our country, and the decorum of good breeding, and -I shall, for all this noble train that follow me, answer to your -devilship’s queries. Coming to the confines of your flourishing empire, -we were met by some of the officers of this honourable assembly, who -gave us safe conduct to your royal presence: but just now, entring into -these lifts, confronted us a company of paltry scoundrels, and press’d -for precedence, swearing, That they were _Englishmen_, and ought to take -place of all that were damn’d for cuckolds. We urg’d our title in -heraldry, that we ought to take place of all nations, being the -successors of the once masters of the universe; but they were deaf to -reason here, as well as in the world, and one swore _d--me_, _bl--d_ and -_z--ns_, another, oaths all round the compass; and in this volly of -mouth-grenadoes, one very demure gentleman press’d, by _Yea_ and _Nay_, -that we were in the wrong; and had it not been for this honourable devil -here, that’s a friend to our nation, we had been worm’d out of our -birth-right by the arse and refuse of the world: _Et penitus toto -divisos orbe Britannos_, as our noble country-man has it, Dogs shut out -of doors from all the rest of mankind. I therefore appeal to this thrice -excellent senate, and you the _right and most reverend doge_, to redress -this affront. - -_Lucif._ Hey-day? What, has not hell yet brought you to your senses, -that you can think we devils are such sots to trouble our heads about -the ridiculous whims of ceremonious mankind? But since they were so -obstreperous to make a disturbance in hell, they shall be the last -heard: Therefore proceed to the question. - -_Ghost._ An’t please your thrice puissant devilship, noble signor, I was -coming to that point: Therefore, to be brief, (for I hate prolixity) I -am, Sir, an _Italian_ by nation, and a noble-man by quality. My own -vanity, and ill chance, give me a pretty wife, and my honour made me -chuse her of an illustrious house; but she prov’d lewd and prodigal, the -natural issue of beauty and high birth; my dotage on her charms hath -bred in me such a fond, blind, uxorious vice (which my countrymen are -seldom guilty of) that I was almost ruin’d before I found I was -betray’d: but travelling towards _Genoa_, I met the spark, my pretended -friend, on the road to my dwelling; I seemingly pass’d on my way, but in -the night return’d, unexpected, and surpriz’d ’em all, and, therefore, -as my honour bid me, I murder’d him, and bak’d him in a pye, and -(ingeniously in my revenge) swore she should eat no other food but her -lover: the crust she a while did eat, but one day, having prepar’d a -_stelleto_, at supper she dispatch’d me thus to your thrice noble and -illustrious devilship. - -_Lucif._ Very well! and worthy thou art of such a punishment, that -could’st not forgive beauty a gentle slip of that nature thou thyself -hadst so often transgress’d. Speak the next. - -_2 Ghost._ I am also an _Italian_; and observing a gentleman often -ogling my wife, which she did not a little encourage, I sent a _bravo_ -to dispatch him; (for we _Italians_ do not love to look revenge in the -face ourselves) but the rogue of a _bravo_, won by my wife, and by a -great sum of money of my adversary’s, comes back to me, and cuts my -throat. And this, most noble signor, is most of our cases; our wives -have given us the casting throw for damnation. - -_Lucif._ You, the rest of the malignant train, is this true, that your -wives have sent you hither? - -_Omnes._ Yes, yes; we have all had wives.---- All the plagues of _Egypt_ -let us undergo, but no wives, we most humbly beseech your most noble -devilship. - -_Lucif._ Prayers are in vain; transgressions are to be punish’d by the -same way they are committed; nor must you be your own carvers here in -hell, gentlemen. Away with ’em, down into cuckolds-cave, ten thousand -fathom deeper than the whore-masters, and next the keeping-cullies, _and -let each have two wives to torment him_. - -_Omnes._ O wives! wives! - -[_They are removed off, and others brought on._ - -_Lucif._ Proceed to the next band. - -Say, what were you in the world, and what dear sin brought you to this -place? - -_Spanish Ghost._ Great prince of darkness, and lord of the greatest part -of mankind, may it please your catholick majesty, I was, by my worldly -state and condition, a _Spanish_ grandee, of the first magnitude, rich -as fortune and an indulgent prince well could make me, (for your -devilship must know, our king is but a sheep for us to fleece when we -please, which we do in all places, letting his soldiers and inferior -servants starve) happy, ’till too much success was my undoing; for by -that I gain’d the lady I lov’d, and so in one unhappy word was married. -’Tis tedious to repeat the injuries I receiv’d from the ungrateful fair, -who, after all, to make room for another, sent me away (like an -_Italian_ as she was) in all my sins, with a poisonous draught. - -_Lucif._ Is the same your fate, you, the rest of this besotted crew, -that have met with just punishment from one part of yourselves, for -preferring your private grandeur before the service of your king and -honour of your country? - -_Omnes._ Yes, yes; thirst of honour and wealth made us cheat the king; -and drew down the judgment of wedlock; and that brought us to this long -home and fiend of matrimony. - -_Lucif._ Away with these, and drive ’em out of their snails pace. - -[_A tatter’d Ghost comes forward._ - -_Ghost._ Just may be their punishment, most noble devil; but why should -I be condemn’d to wincing, who was so far from cheating the king, that I -could never get my due of him, and being a gentleman born, never did -any thing below my extraction, and have gone without a meal, many a -time, rather than degrade myself to get one? And tho’ I could arrive to -it no other ways, yet kept up my part still in stately walk, and my -wallet, tho’ I had no bread for either, or a shirt to my back. - -_Lucif._ Since thy own folly made thee marry, ’tis now too late to -prate, you must away with the rest. - -[_They are carry’d off, and others brought on._ - -Bring the next to the bar: declare the cause of your deserv’d damnation. -My life on’t these dapper sparks are in for cakes and ale too; the very -air of their faces speaks them cuckolds. - -_French Ghost._ Sire, may it please your most victorious majesty, -_Vostre Esclaro_ is a _Frenchman_ by birth, and a leader of the most -christian king’s most magnanimous forces; and whilst I, with my -commilitones, was reaping lawrels in the field of renown, and engaging -the enemy abroad, my lady wife (as most of our _French_ wives will, for -having once tasted the sweets of love, they’ll ne’er have done ’till -they have undone us one way or other) my lady wife, I say, was engaging -with a friend at home, who very genteely gave her the pox, which I, at -my return, like a gay cavalier of a husband, receiv’d of her as genteely -without rebuke, it being no matter of scandal with us. But -madamoiselle’s pox proving a very _virago_, gave me damn’d thrust in -_quarto_, and sent me hither in _decimo sexto_, _monseigneur_. - -_Lucif._ You, the rest, speak. - -_Omnes._ We are all _Frenchmen_, and therefore you need not doubt the -cause, the pox and our wives, _ma foy_. - -_Lucif._ Away with them: they’ll make a fire by themselves, or will -serve instead of small-coal to kindle others; for they are half burnt -out already. Place ’em next the _Spaniards_. The next there speak. - -[_They are carry’d off, more brought on._ - -_German Ghost._ I am, by nation, a _German_, and, by damnation, a -husband, a cuckold, or what you please; for I hate to mince the matter -with a long preamble, when a word to the wise is enough. - -_Lucif._ Very well; you, the rest, speak. - -_Omnes._ Ev’n so, an’t please your imperial devilship; whilst we drank -and fought against the _Turks_, our wives whor’d with the _Christians_. -O wives! wives! - -_Lucif._ Away with these into the hottest, for their carcasses are so -soak’d with liquor, that they’ll put out an ordinary fire. You, the -next, speak. - -[_They are carry’d off, others brought on._ - -_Dutch Ghost._ Gads sacrament, I am a member, or rather two members, of -the _Hogen-Mogen_ common-wealth of _Europe_. Two members, I say; for I -am a member governed, and a member governing; for the people with us, -and in all such common-wealths, are both subjects and masters, govern -laws, and govern’d by the same. - -_Lucif._ Your country’s name then is contradiction. Is it not? - -_Ghost._ Contradiction to monarchy, tho’ set up by some monarchs to -spite others. But to your question, old tarpaulin: Whilst I was getting -money and drinking punch and brandy, to hearten me for the noble combats -of snick or snee, or some illustrious sea-fight, or some generous -undertaking at the island of _Formosa_, (for a true _Dutchman_ never -fights without his head full of brandy) my wife made it fly like -_sooterkins_ at home; at last she made me turn bankrupt, and cheat my -creditors, and so dying, I came with a full sail and brisk gale into -your port. - -_Lucif._ You, the rest, speak. - -_Omnes._ For our wives, O _Sooterkin Hagan_, our wives, whose -broad-built bulk the boisterous billows bear. - -_Lucif._ Away with them into the den of anarchy and confusion, below the -founders of _Babel_. - - [_They are carry’d off, and abundance of_ English _bands come - forward_. - -_Lucif._ Numerous crew! answer me; What has brought you into this -kingdom; and what were you in the world? - -[_A ghost of a beau speaks to another of the same feather._ - -_1 Beau’s Gh._ D---- me, _Jack_, didst ever hear so silly and -impertinent a question? As if marriage was not the only cause of -damnation. - -[_Aside._ - -_2 Beau’s Gh._ R----t me, _Ned_, as thou say’st, I never heard a -country justice ask more _mal à propos_; but the devil’s an ass, and so -let him pass. - -_The first of the first band answers the Devil._ - -I am an _Englishman_, who, after I had been a notorious cuckold, was -perswaded by my wife to fight the man that made me so, and was fairly -kill’d for satisfaction, as all this band that follows me were; and we -are damn’d for _fools_ as well as _cuckolds_. - -_Omnes._ ’Tis true, _honour_ and _wedlock_ have been our ruin. - -_Lucif._ Away with them into _fools paradise_, below the -keeping-cullies, as the more _unpardonable monsters_. - -[_They are carry’d off, and as the next come in, -the Beaux speak._ - -_1 Be. Gh._ D---- me, _Ned_, didst ever know such fools as they, that -could not be satisfy’d to live _cuckolds_, but must die so too, with a -witness, - -[_Aside_. - -_2 Be. Gh._ R----t me, _Jack_, if ever I was of that fighting humour; -nor did I ever fight but once, and then forc’d to it; but my _stays_ -sav’d my life, and I wore my glove that was cut in the encounter as long -as ’twould hang on my hand: therefore, tho’ I knew Sir _Roger Allfight_ -kiss’d my _wife_, yet as long as I could sup at the _Rose_, and break -the drawer’s head if he made not haste, or brought _bad wines_, or so, -’gad I let him kiss her and welcome. - -[_Aside._ - -_1 Be. Gh._ S----k me, _Ned_, I was always of thy mind, as long as I -could flutter abroad in my glass coach, have my diamond snuff-box full -of _Orangeree_ or _Roderigo_, _&c._ D---- me if I car’d a rush who rode -in my saddle. But mark that formal coxcomb now going to speak: lord! how -fine a thing it is to be a man of wit, and what a singular figure he -makes! but hark, old grey-beard begins. - -_Lucif._ Speak you the next. - -_Ghost._ I was a man of quality, of the same country; but my fortune -being, in my youth, run out, in _France_ for breeding, and in _England_ -by keeping, I thought in my riper years to retrieve all by marrying a -_city heiress_; but she had by nature, so much of the mother in her, -that by intriguing and equipage she soon brought me into a worse -condition than before: so that, as my last refuge, I was forc’d to turn -_Plotter_, and being discover’d, was lopp’d shorter by the head, as all -this honourable tribe that follows me were. - -_Lucif._ Away with ’em. [_They are carry’d off, and, as the next are -bringing to the bar, the beaux discourse again._ - -_1 Beau. Gh._ D--me, _Ned_, this was a worse fool than the other. - -_2 Beau. Gh._ R--t me, _Jack_, _vous avez raison_: for I always lov’d to -keep myself out of the _jeopardy of action_: _Jack_, I’d talk treason, -or so; sort myself with the disaffected, and blow up the coals of their -_discontent_, or so: but for _engagements, covenants, conditions, and -unlawful assemblies_, ’gad they must pardon me. - -[_Aside._ - -_1 Beau. Gh._ Z--ns, _Ned_, thou and I were always one man; I could rail -at the magistrates, pen a lampoon, or, at least, convey it to _Julian_, -give penny pies to the mob to make a noise, ridicule the transactions of -the government, and give squinting reflections on the king, that was my -_ne plus ultra_; for all that I can see, we are in the best case still, -_Ned_. But now our band advances, let us press forward, or our cause may -fail. - -[_Aside._ - -_2 Beau. Gh._ Hell and damnation, all’s lost; for look yonder, that -conceited coxcomb, my lord _Flippant_, presuming on his quality, has -taken upon him to be our chief, and spokes-man. - -[_Aside._ - -_1 Beau. Gh._ S--nk me, _Ned_, so say I: I never knew a conceited man, -but he was a fool; but let’s hear, we may put in an appeal, or a writ of -error afterward, or award judgment, if our cause be ill handled. - -[_Aside._ - -O! what an admirable thing it is to be a man of parts! - -_Luc._ Speak, thou fluttering fool, for the rest of this thy -peacock-gang. - -_L. Flippant’s Ghost._ D--me, Sir, I have been a man of the town, or -rather a man of wit, and have been confess’d a beau, and admitted into -the family of the rakehellonians: and, d--me, Sir, I think I am much -under that dilemma at present.---- I was learn’d in the ingenious art of -dumfounding; a wit I said, dear devil, I was, and it lay as a -gentleman’s shou’d, most in lewdness and atheism. I married in jest, or -a frolick, which you please; but as I thought a fortune, (got by -cullies) I was made a cuckold in earnest; tho’ that was no grievance to -me, since it only made me in the mode: nor cou’d I expect any better, -since I knew she was a whore before I had her; but ’twas with my -betters, and so I was contented her money should pass currant with me, -where her reputation would not: but sharping was her best quality, and -gaming her greatest patrimony; and she set up a basset table, and -whilst I was at the groom-porter’s throwing _a-main_, she would be sure -to set me, at home, a pair of horns. I seldom coming to my apartment, -but I met some cully nobleman or other; but that which was worst, she -still had a knave in her mouth, or an alpue in her tail, that carry’d -away all the gain: whilst I was at _Will_’s coffee-house, fast’ned in -controversy or poetick rhapsodies, though I had neither religion nor -learning, she was sure of me ’till play-time and then too; for at five, -come, _Dick_, says I (to a brother of the orange and cravat string) -d--me, let’s us to the play: r--t me, says he, ’tis a dull one: d--me, -says I, I value not the play, my province lies in the boxes, ogling my -half-crown away, or running from side-box to side-box, to the inviting -incognito’s in black faces, or else wittily to cry out aloud in the pit, -_&c._ _Bough_, or _Boyta_, and then be prettily answer’d by the rest of -the wits in the same note, like musical instruments tuned to the same -pitch. And whilst I was thus generously employ’d, my consort had her -retreat of quality, to be provided of what I fail’d in. From the play to -the _Rose_, where we drank ’till four, or break of day; from thence to -bed, where we lay ’till four or five again, so _in infinitum_. - -_1 Beau. Gh._ D--me, _Jack_, did’st ever hear a sot spoil a good tale in -the telling so? - -_2 Beau. Gh._ Z--ns, _Ned_, we’re undone thro’ this scoundrel’s -ignorance and nonsense: shall I speak? - -_1 Beau. Gh._ R--t me, if thou wilt, thou may’st: but I am sure I could -make more of it: for tho’ thou art a man of wit, and a good judge of -poetry, and all that, r--t me, _Jack_, oratory is thy blind side. - -_2 Beau. Gh._ D--me, Sir, don’t put upon your friends; for have I been -bred at the university, and think myself as good a judge as you or any -man alive: and, Sir, were we out of the court, I believe you would not -thus have abus’d me. - -_1 Beau. Gh._ Nay, D--me, _Ned_, now thou art unjust to thy friend: r--t -me, to quarrel for’t, I acknowledg’d thee a man of parts, _Ned_, and all -that. - -_Luc._ Away with the gay sots, and because I have no plagues in hell -equal to their deserts, let them be a torment to one another. Away with -them. [_As they go off, the Beaus discourse._ - -_1 Beau. Gh._ Well, _Ned_, shall I speak before it is too late: you may -depend on my excellence in oratory, ’tis my talent; I never writ -billet-deux in my life, but it prevail’d with the cruel nymph: and do -you think I can’t with the devil? I’ll perswade him out of his seven -senses, man? d--me, I’ll make it appear to him that he is a god, and all -that, man: r--t me, _Ned_, be not obstinate. - -_2 Beau. Gh._ Z--ns, Sir, no more of that strain. Sir, you’re a coxcomb. -What doubt my universal parts? - -_Luc._ You with such a busy face, speak, what are you? - -_Here abundance of Cits, in various dresses, come forward._ - -_Cit. Ghost._ An’t please your infernal majesty, I was a right -worshipful citizen of _London_, that famous _Metropolis_ of _England_, -and I have born all the honourable employments of the same, ev’n to -sheriff and lord-mayor: I was long of the court of aldermen, and one of -the chief spokesmen of the common-council: I made speeches, and penn’d -most of the addresses. But ’tis not for being a cuckold alone, or that I -was feign to cheat so many to maintain my wife’s pride and luxury, that -I am damn’d with this right worshipful crew here; for those are crimes -common to the rest of our brother-citizens, as well as us; but we were -so mad to marry second wives, and for their sakes turn our children out -of doors, (after we had bred them up in all the ease and luxury of the -age) to seek their fortunes in the wide world, and left our estates to -our wives at our death, who will be sure to bestow them on some silly -hectoring spendthrift bully of _Alsatia_ or other, and let the children, -begot of our own bodies, starve. - -_Luc._ Away with that rank gang of fools, as well as knaves, who cou’d -so much forget nature and its necessary and known laws, as to cast off -their own off-spring, to give away their substance to those that will -not only misuse it, but contemn the memory of them that were their -benefactors, with so great an injury to nature. - -_2 Cit._ May it please your most noble devilship to hear me, before you -give judgment upon us, and I don’t doubt, but I shall seriously, offer -such reasons of our behaviour in that matter, as shall sufficiently move -that ignominy your devilship was pleas’d to cast upon us. First, then, -tho’ it be true, that upon my marriage, I agreed with my second spouse -to turn all my children out of doors, yet I did it not ’till she or I -had found some cause so to do; for some of them were undutiful, and -others put tricks upon me, (as my good wife said) and others were lewd -and extravagant, and some self-will’d; so that I deserted none of ’em -without some fault. If they were undutiful, was I to blame to punish ’em -for it? Or was it my duty to keep and maintain them, after they were of -sufficient bigness to prog for themselves? The birds and beasts take -care of their young no longer, than ’till they are able to care for -themselves; and why should man be confin’d to more severe laws in that -point than his vassal creatures? I must profess, on the word of a -citizen, that I can see no reason why a man that gets his estate -himself, may not give it away to whom he pleases; and none so and near -deserving, as the wife of one’s bosom. What tho’ she may have slips, the -witcheries and temptations of love are great to their soft sex; and if -we have been so employ’d in getting, that we could not mind that other -business, why should we blame them for easing us by other supplies, -where we wanted power to give them. - -_Luc._ Thou hast spoken as much to the purpose, as when in the world -thou used harangue at the choice of a sheriff; and therefore I shall -proceed to a singular punishment for you. Your argument of punishing -your children for their undutifulness, turns here on your own head; for -when they are little, you encourage their impudence: and that is a witty -child with you, that can prate saucily and lewdly before he can read, -and swear and catch the maid by it before seven years old; and then when -you have given them their head without controul, during their childhood -and minority, you punish them for the fruit of that tree which -yourselves have planted, which is in itself the height of injustice; but -on the contrary, you are condemn’d for breaking the laws of your maker, -which you were bred in fear of, and taught to obey; and you that could -punish your own flesh and blood so for nothing, without relenting, have -a just judgment for being punish’d here without mercy. And as for their -being lewd and extravagant, that is no plea for you, since that is the -lesson you have taught ’em both by example and precept, from the time of -their birth, ’till their coming to years of understanding; for you let a -taylor’s daughter, with you, go in the garb of the children of a duke -in the country, and even miss ketch be call’d away from the mob: your -sons must keep their horses, and their whores too, before they know the -use of either; and then you punish them for persevering when they are -better skill’d. And as for the birds and beasts, (examples I think -unworthy to be follow’d by a nobler being, or quoted as a precedent) -they are so far excelling you in that point, that they educate their -young in the simple course of nature, not elevating them above what’s -necessary, nor leaving them, ’till they have sufficiently inur’d them to -provide for themselves all that nature requires. But just contrary to -the example you quote, you, all the infancy of your children, keep them -from hardship and knowing how to live and provide for themselves, and -then on the sudden cast them out of their nest unfledg’d, without -teaching them to fly. Nor is your proud supposition, that you may -dispose of your own gettings, more pious or justifiable, unless you will -make your selves gods, and claim the propriety of that which you cannot -carry out of the world with you, no more than you brought it in. ’Twas -heaven that gave success to your endeavours, to provide for those other -blessings it bestow’d upon you, of fine hopeful children; and you were, -in right, but their tenant for life, to improve your substance for their -good. Nor can you in reason imagine any one deserves it better; for -justice and reason both will have it, that you that begot them into the -world without their seeking or desires, to satisfy your own pleasures, -ought to provide all you can for them that you brought thus -involuntarily into the maze of fortune and the treachery of mankind. And -of all in the world, you have the least reason to leave it to a wife, -that not only betrays the rights of your bed, prostituting herself and -your honour to rascals; but shew’d at first so little respect and love -for you, as to desire so unreasonable a thing, that you should cast off -all the bonds of nature, and forsake your own children, which she could -not but love, if she lov’d you: for you know the proverb, _love me, love -my dog_. Having thus therefore shewn the villainy of your crimes, ’tis -fit I proceed to your just punishment, for which you are sent hither. -You that have thus more than monstrously prevaricated against nature, -shall want all the benefits of nature; fire you shall have, but not to -give you gentle warmth from the cold of the season, (as when you liv’d -and hugg’d yourself in all epicurism, whilst your children starv’d) but -to scorch your wretched consciences; and continual fears of burning your -goods, houses, and writings, shall attend you; to which shall be added -the piercing fire of jealousy, that shall prey upon every part of you; -nor shall you be without the knowledge of your wives transactions on -earth and see how they mourn in sack and claret, and how they marry and -whore before you are cold; how they spend that profusely, which you -scrap’d together to give them, with so much injustice to your poor -orphans, whose injuries shall never let you rest, but with all the fury -of hell for ever torment you worse than _Onan_ or the _Sodomites_: away -with them, whose villainies raises a horror, even in the prince of hell -and great source of wickedness. - -[_As they are going off, two Quakers ghosts speak._ - -_1 Quaker’s Ghost._ Ah! um!--_Josiah!_ verily, who would have thought -that _Rebecca_ would have fallen with the ungodly so, or that your -_Tabitha_ would have let the spirit move her to play with the calves of -_Bethel_, the wicked of _Sidon_, or the profane children of _Moloch_? - -_2 Ghost._ By yea and by nay, _Abadoniah_, as thou say’st, it was more -verily than could enter into the heart of man to believe. Why, there was -my neighbour _Sad-face_, and my cousin _Goggle_, _Nahu_, _Sneakphir_, -and [_The lord said unto_ Moses, _praise God_.] was his fore-name; had -they not holy sisters, as to the appearance of the flesh, for their -spouses? Yet behold with them, and within the tabernacles of their -mansions, instead of raising up seed to the lord among the chosen and -godly, they did sacrifice to _Baal_ with the giants of _Moab_. Oh -_Abadoniah_! what a falling off was there! what a backsliding! - -_1 Ghost._ Oh, _Josiah_! As thou say’st, verily, and by yea and by nay, -that the spirit should move us to come to the devil for our necessaries, -without a convenience. But our lord will remember our captivity in -_Babylon_. - -_The lawyers push forward, and speak very urgently._ - -_Lawyer’s Ghost._ Sure, my lord, if the _Decorum_ of any place ought to -be kept, that of a court of judgment ought, and not to let a paultry cit -speak before a man of the robe. But in these popish times, all law is -neglected, and all its honourable professors contemn’d and postpon’d. -However, my most honourable lord and patron of all that were black, I -shall humbly move this honourable court, that I may at length be heard, -since my cause is of so great import and concern, and in which the -wisdom of this court will be highly interessed, if it should be brought -in _Billa vera_; and it wou’d too much reflect on the impartiality of -this court of judicature, to be slack in indagating into a cause of this -weight and moment. My lord, before I open, I shall only premise, that I -take this to be the high court of equity. Which granted, I shall begin -to open. - -I will confess, that the statutes in _Banco Regis_ may prevail, and -custom in the common-pleas; but humbly presume, with submission to your -lordships, that this being a court of equity, it will give the [57] -devil his due. But, my lord, where a precedent of the like nature may -happen in a case decided by the great council of the nation, I hope it -will not be foreign, if I alledge it here where it has nothing to do. -The case is parallel, as I may say, my lord, considering the -circumstances; that is, in short, _Consideratis Considerandis_, in -_primo Henrici primi_, according to my lord _Coke_ upon _Littleton_; and -if your lordship will let us read, you shall find so many gross errors -in the bill, and the material objections so fully answer’d, and costs, -if not charges and damages. But, my lord, I do humbly suppose, that part -of this bill ought rather to have been put into an indictment, and so -falls not under the cognizance of this court; and that is, my lord, that -we are made _Felo’s de se_, the causes of our own damnation, by an -instrument call’d a wife, value two-pence. Therefore, my lord, if you -please, let us try it upon a jury in any county your lordship shall -think fit. Tho’, I think, in our case, your lordship may decide it -without farther trouble; for thus I prove the [58] negative, (hoping -your lordship will let me bring in a writ of error). To deny, my lord, -that we are damn’d, wou’d be perfect nonsense, and against all form of -law; yet that we are damn’d for our wives, I presume, does not follow. -And I will prove, that it does not, so undeniably, to all that have any -profound insight into the law, that I question not but your lordship -will acquiesce _Nemine Contradicente_; for tho’ it be, - -_Mark, brothers, how I will puzzle the devil, and all his learned bench -with one turn, one notable quirk; mind it well._ - - _Aside to the other lawyers Ghosts that follow him, they look on - one another, rejoicing, and hugging themselves._ - -[_Aloud_] For tho’ I say it be true, that our wives spend a great deal -of money on our clerks, _Et cætera, quæ nunc perscribere longum est_, -and cuckolded us as often as they pleas’d, in spite of our teeth; and -though I will not deny that they were as profuse as _Heliogabalus_, or -_Caligula_, and as proud as _Lucifer_, (with submission to your -lordship) yet (now comes the paradox) yet, I say, (pray mind this) _we -did not get money to maintain their_ luxury, _but they maintain’d their_ -luxury _out of the money that we got_: which, I humbly conceive, falls -not under the same predicament, but brings us within the act of _Habeas -Corpus_, that we may not be carry’d away into the den of ordinary -cuckolds. For, to give your lordship yet a more lively representation of -this matter in question, be pleas’d to reflect on another very pertinent -precedent in my lord _Coke_, where _John-a-Noakes_ is tenant only for -life, and _John-a Stiles_ tenant in tail---- - -_Luc._ Heyday! what, is it _Midsummer_-moon with mankind? what have we -got here! a cuckold hornmad, prating nonsense, and salving his knavery -and folly with a quirk in law, a turn of a sentence? those shams won’t -take here, where there needs no fee for counsel, nor bribe for judgment. -Away with him and his villainous tribe. - -_Lawyer’s Ghost._ Nay, but, my lord, I humbly move your honour, that we -may not be condemn’d, _Causa indicta_, that is not right or equitable: -wherefore I beseech your lordship to have some regard to me, as I am a -barrister of thirty years standing, and a serjeant of ten, that you -wou’d be pleas’d to reflect, that tho’ I cheated the ignorant, and -squeez’d and impos’d on the necessitous.-- - -_Luc._ Has not hell yet brought thee to thy senses? Away with this -impertinent fellow, and all this black gang, among the rest of the most -deprav’d cuckolds, but in the most deepest cavern, for whom they shall -plead, _in Forma Pauperis_, till their lungs crack, without fees; let -the - -[Illustration: _The Poets Hell describ’d._ - - _Voll. IV. p. 321._ -] - -writings of their ill got estates be for their food. Scoundrels, that -had no more sense, than after they had cheated so many wise and honest -men, to suffer themselves to be abus’d by women! away with them, away -with them. - -_Lawyer._ As to that, my lord, I always fetch’d my dear home in her -coach from her gallant, who had pawn’d her in a tavern.---- - -_Luc._ Away with them I say; what, am I not obey’d! - -_As they are carry’d off, they cry_, O tempora! O mores! - - * * * * * - -_Luc._ Who art thou, with so precise a grimace? - -_A Parson’s Ghost._ I was in the world above, most mighty king, of the -reverend crew, and having a handsom wife, as most of us love, who was -proud, as they generally are, my benefice (tho’ good) was too small to -maintain the grandeur she affected; but I being of a good comely port, -with a pair of broad shoulders, and sufficient abilities, and the man of -God too boot, (which made an easy and open way for all the rest) I -ventur’d to crack a commandment with some of my wealthy parishioners -wives, that they being so oblig’d, (according to my text) might prevail -with their husbands to be the more generous to me in supererrogatory -offerings, which flow’d all into the bottomless bag of my spouse’s pride -and lust; for that too, must be supply’d. - - -[_They are carry’d off._ - -_Luc._ You, the rest of this mad foolish crew, what are you? And what -the cause of your damnation? - - -Poet’s Ghost. - - _Quis Talia fando_ - _Myrmidonum, Dolopúmve, aut duri Miles Ulyssi_ - _Temperet à Lacrymis?_ - - Ha! brothers of the quill, what fate for us remains! - But death, or worse than death, inglorious chains. - -_Luc._ What ragged regiment are you that lag behind your fellows? what -are you the black-guard of the cuckolds? - -_Poet._ No, royal _Pluto_, no, (altho’, indeed, we are the poorest -cuckolds that come hither, I believe) we are of the learned rout. - - _We have on_ PARNASSUS _slept,_ - _And in the sacred stream_ - _(To guild our amorous theam)_ - _Of_ HELICON _our pens have dipt._ - _And thro’_ AVERNUS _and black_ STYX - _By which to swear_ - _The Gods do fear,_ - _We hither slipt;_ - _And fairly bilked old_ CHARON - _As we were wont to do of yore_ - _Poor_ HACK, _or_ CHAIR-MAN, - _Or our half-starv’d whore._ - _Wherefore, O Sir_ PLUTO, - _Since we cannot bilk you too_.---- - -_Luc._ Hold, hold I know your tribe of old; if you once get to repeating -your works, or into the jingle of your rhimes, you’ll never have done. -Away with them to old _Sternhold_ and _Hopkins_, and the rest of the -crambo-sparks: ye senseless scoundrels, that make wives of your mules -when single, and whores of your wives when marry’d. - -Poet. - - _O passi graviora!_---- - _Solamen miseris, socios habuisse dolorum._ - -_Luc._ Clear the court, and let no more come in: the fatigue of this -sitting has been enough: for my part, the follies of mankind are such, -that the very hearing of them has quite turn’d my stomach for this month -at least. - -_Porter_. Great Sir, here is a throng of wild _Irish_, that will take no -denial, but thrust in whether we will or no. - -_Irish_. Nay, nay, my deer joy, chreest bless the sweet majestees faash -indeed; poor _Teague_ is St. _Patrick_’s own country-man, be chreest, -and poor _Teague_ will come into St. _Patrick_’s purgatory; and if there -be no vacancee, indeed thee must make a vacancee. - -_Porter._ Nay, but this is hell, and not St. _Patrick_’s purgatory: -therefore keep back. - -_Irish._ Boo! boo, boo, boo, boo, hoo, hoo! hell indeed! say’st thou mee -deer joy! be mee shoul, and bee chreest and St. _Patrick_, ee was think -that hee that was in the highway to hell, cou’d not miss St. _Patrick_’s -purgatory, since there is but a wall betwixt them. - -_Porter_. Ouns, stand back, or I’ll send you back to the _Boyne_, ye -impudent pultroons you. - -_Irish._ Boo, hoo, ooo: bless the sweet faash of thee indeed, poor -_Teague_ will have patience ’till his good grace will let him in indeed. - -[_A noise without._ - -_Lucif._ What noise is that without? - -_Porter._ Here is a troop of _Scots_ that swear and stare to get in, and -beg they may but skulk into some cold corner of hell, (which they wou’d -not know from their own country above) with their _Ganymedes_, from the -fury of their wives, whom they hear are just following them at their -heels. And then here is some thousands more from _Asia_, _Africa_, and -_America_, push’d on with the same fear: but I’ll keep them here in the -_Lobby_, ’till your infernal majesty is more at leisure. - -_Lucif._ Do so,--for the horrid nauseousness of these sots have almost -put me into a fit of vomiting and looseness. And now, my lords and -gentlemen, that have given your attendance at this court, you may depart -’till farther orders; but tendering my health, both for your sakes and -my own, I shall confer the office of my deputy on our right reverend and -well-belov’d cousin _Belzebub_, prince of the _Flies_; for I am unable -to undergo this fatigue any more. - -_Belzebub._ I humbly beg your majesty wou’d excuse my age, and give me -my _quietus_. Here is prince _Satan_, an able and active devil, and -worthy your choice. - -_Satan._ Good prince _Belzebub_, you might have spar’d your good word; -for I shall beg to be excus’d, if my former services may be respected; -for I had enough of mankind when I tempted _Eve_, she foil’d me so at my -own weapon; therefore I hope your majesty will confer that troublesome -employment on some devil of less quality than myself. - -_Lucif._ So be it then, and let the mob of hell make choice of one, for -I am resolv’d to trouble myself no more about them. But before we rise, -let proclamation be made of a general play-day and jubilee for all the -lesser and laborious rank of devils, who have been thus long continually -employ’d in damning mankind; let them take their ease as long as -matrimony prevails above; for now our business is much better done by -woman to our hands: Or if any are so zealously inclin’d to be still busy -for the good of their country, let them employ their time and talents to -better purpose than formerly, in perswading the easy world against -cœlibacy, by stigmatizing all that affect it with the name of whores, -rogues, and hypocrites; and if that prevails, we gain our point, and -widow’d Heaven may bid good-night to mankind. For if we get them into -our noose, we may be sure of our purchase. Let none therefore loyter -away his time in tempting the marry’d; for one woman will out-do a -legion of you. - - _For since their grandame_ Eve _in_ Eden _fell,_ - _The_ sex _has learnt the damning trade so well,_ - _Where e’er that rules, there’s little need of hell_. - -[Illustration] - - - - -_The Belgic_ HERO _Unmask’d_; - -IN A - -DIALOGUE - -BETWEEN - -Sir _Walter Rawleigh_ and _Aaron Smith_. - - -Sir _Walter_. Hold thy impertinent tongue, I say, thou everlasting -babbler, or---- - -_Smith._ Come, come, we lawyers are not so easily silenc’d as you think. -Liberty of speech is one of the eldest branches of _magna charta_; -therefore I will once more maintain it, before all the world, that the -reign of my late _Batavian_ master, was in every respect equal to that -of the famous _Elizabeth_. - -Sir _Walter_. Not that is’t worth my while to enter the list with such a -petty-fogging dog as thou art, or the cause in debate admits any manner -of parallel: but since thou hast the impudence to defend so monstrous a -paradox before all this company, inform us what noble things this hero -has perform’d, to deserve all that nauseous idle flattery, which hardly -none but _Sectarists_, _Deists_, _Republicans_, and particularly the -rascals of thy kidney, when he was alive, conspir’d to give him. - -_Smith._ Why, in the first place, he deliver’d _England_, then just upon -the brink of being devour’d by arbitrary power and popery. He won the -noble battle of the _Boyne_, reduc’d _Ireland_, appeas’d the disorders -of _Scotland_, reap’d a new harvest of glory every campaign in -_Flanders_, and at last, after an obstinate expensive war, forc’d a -haughty tyrant, who had insulted and bully’d the whole christian world -for almost forty years, to clap up a peace with him upon his own terms -at _Ryswick_, by which he was oblig’d to vomit up numberless provinces -and towns, which he had dishonourably stollen from their true -proprietors. - -Sir _Walter_. And as for his personal qualities, what have you to say of -them? - -_Smith._ Whether you behold him at home or abroad, in the cabinet or the -field; in fine, whether you consider him as a king, a general, a -statesman, a husband, or a master, you’ll find his character uniformly -bright in all these relative stations: affectionate to his queen, -merciful to his subjects, liberal to his servants, careful of his -soldiers, and providing, by his great wisdom, against all future -contingencies that might hereafter disturb the tranquillity of _Europe_. -But as for his munificence to his servants and favourities, I may -venture to say, that few princes in history ever went so far as he. - -Sir _Walter_. This last clause is not so great a commendation to him as -you imagine.--Well, and is this all, for I wou’d not willingly interrupt -you, ’till you have gone the full length of your panegyrick? - -_Smith._ ’Tis all I think needful to say upon the occasion, and enough, -in my opinion, to establish his reputation to to all succeeding ages. - -Sir _Walter_. Let us carefully examine the several particulars; and when -we have so done, we shall be able to determine on what side the truth -lies--_Imprimis_, you tell me he deliver’d _England_ from tyranny and -popish superstition: but was there no other way of accomplishing his -deliverance, but by sending a certain relation to grass, and wounding -the monarchy in so tender a part, which had suffer’d so terribly in the -late unnatural rebellion of 41? If what one of the ancient fathers says, -be true, that the whole world is not worth the saving, at the expence of -a single lye, surely _Great Britain_, which makes so small a part of the -universe, hardly deserv’d to be deliver’d from an imaginary ruin with so -much perjury, infidelity, and ingratitude. Besides, he solemnly -protested in his declaration, that he had no intention to make himself -king, yet he excercis’d the regal power the very moment he landed: so -that unless there had been a crown in the case, I am afraid he would -hardly have cross’d the water to rescue the church of _England_. - -_Smith._ This is indeed what his enemies and some envious people have -objected to him. - -Sir _Walter_. Nothing of that can be laid to my charge, who was never -known to your hero either _Beneficio_ or _Injuria_; but as I still -preserve an invincible affection for my native country, my zeal for the -welfare of that, makes me assume this freedom. To be plain with you -then, I can hardly believe he had any extraordinary concern for the -prosperity of _England_, upon whom he threw the greatest burden of the -war; whose troops he suffer’d to fight without their pay, in _Flanders_, -at the same time when a parcel of unworthy foreigners had store of gold -and silver in their pockets. Neither can any man perswade me he had the -least affection for the royal family, from which he was descended, who -suffer’d such numberless invectives and libels to be publish’d against -his royal grandfather, both his uncles, and, in short, the whole family -of the _Stuarts_, yet never call’d any of the authors or printers to an -account for’t during the whole course of his reign. - -_Smith._ Aye, but a hero, you know, has other business to mind, than the -_bagatelles_ of the press. - -Sir _Walter_. And yet this hero could condescend to mind these -_bagatelles_, as you call them, with a witness, whenever they were -levell’d against himself or his favourites. But to proceed,--can any one -in his senses believe, that this deliverer ever set the monarchy and -true constitution of _England_ to heart, under whose reign all the -democratical treatises, both of this and the last age, were not only -publish’d with impunity, but the abettors of such villainous doctrine, -thought the only persons that were in the true interest of the nation, -and deserving to be preferr’d? Was _England_ so utterly destitute of -able generals, that a regicide, proscrib’d by act of parliament, must be -sent for over to head our forces in _Ireland_? - -_Smith._ You’ll never leave off harping upon this string. - -Sir _Walter_. And lastly, have we not very violent reasons to suspect, -that he never had any true hearty concern for the protestant interest, -whatever he pretended to the contrary, who so notoriously sacrific’d it -at the treaty of _Ryswick_; who, to enable him to carry on the late -revolution against his uncle and father-in-law, enter’d into a league; -one of the first articles of which, was, to oblige the king of _France_ -to do justice to the usurpations of the _Roman_ see? And lastly, who, if -he had no aversion, had certainly no affection for the church of -_England_, the support, as well as ornament of the whole reformation, -which evidently appear’d by his bestowing its best preferments upon -_illos quos pingere nola_, a sett of moderate lukewarm gentlemen, that -were willing (good men) to throw up the constitution, whenever their -enemies should ask them the question. What shall I say of others, that -were advanc’d for no other merit, but because they had been justly -punish’d in former reigns for their seditious practices, or descended -from _Oliverian_ parents; or lastly, because they held antimonarchical -and antihierarchical doctrine, both in pulpit and press, which they -honestly call’d free-thinking? - -_Smith._ Nay, this is mere calumny; for can any thing but the blackest -envy presume: to attack him upon the score of religion? - -Sir _Walter_. For once I’ll spare his religion, yet ’tis certain his -ministers had not the least tincture of it. To the eternal honour of his -reign, be it observ’d, all the _Socinian_ treatises that stole into the -world in the late accursed times of licentiousness and disorder, were -fairly reprinted, and these, together with the modern improvements of -_Deism_, fold in the face of the sun, without the least check or -discountenance from any at the helm: ’twas come to that pitch at last, -that a man might better call the divinity of our Saviour into question, -than the legality of that revolution; and safer insult the ashes of king -_James_ the 1st, _Charles the martyr_, and the whole royal line, than -attack such a lew’d, perjur’d, infamous scoundrel as _Oates_. ’Tis a -general maxim, that the court always steers its course _ad Exemplum -Cæsaris_; and that a shrewd guess may be made of a prince’s morals, by -those of his ministers. If this observation holds good, a man would find -himself strangely tempted to say some rash things of your monarch, which -good manners and decency oblige me to pass over in silence. - -_Smith._ But still you say nothing of _Ireland_. - -Sir _Walter_. Far be it from me to do detract in the least from any -man’s actions: But this, I think, I may affirm, without the least -suspicion of malice, that the exploit of the _Boyne_, every thing -consider’d, is not altogether so miraculous as his flattering divines -and courtiers would represent it; for, after all, where was the wonder, -that a well-disciplin’d regular army should defeat an unfortunate -dispirited monarch, with none but a few raw, unpractis’d, naked troops -about him? and then his giving the forfeited estates there to his -minions, in open contradiction to what he had promised the parliament, -does not seem to argue so great a concern for keeping his word. As for -_Scotland_, the subversion of episcopacy, and murder of the -_Glencow-men_, (not to mention the perpetuating of the convention, -during his whole reign, and by that means depriving the country of -electing proper members) will, I believe, look so frightful in future -story, that few of your heroe’s flatterers will mention the -administration of that kingdom to his credit. - -_Smith._ Well then, but _Fanders_? - -Sir _Walter_. I thank you for reminding me of it. I am of opinion then, -that, bating _Namure_, he might have put all the glorious harvests he -yearly reap’d there, into his eye, and not have prejudic’d his royal -sight in the least. However, as I know full well what a mighty advantage -one powerful prince, that commands by his own single authority, has over -a many-headed confederacy, where all are commanders I scorn to insist -upon this point. For this reason I will not enumerate, nor enlarge upon -the constant ill success that everlastingly attended him in _Flanders_, -but come to the peace of _Ryswick_, which was his own proper act and -deed. And here ’tis worth our observing, that by his leaving the poor -emperor in the lurch, the city of _Strasburg_ unluckily continu’d in the -_French_ hands; and that either out of want of politicks or a zeal for -their religion, he made no stipulations for the _German Protestants_, -nor took the least care to have them restor’d to those churches, of -which they had been unjustly dispossess’d in the war. - -_Smith._ Well, but necessity, you know, may make a man sometimes act -contrary to his inclination. - -Sir _Walter_. Why then did his parasites give out, That he was the -controller of the peace, and forc’d the _French_ king to accept of it -upon his own terms.--But not to mention a thousand other things that -might be said upon this occasion, for I begin to grow weary of the -subject, to stop my mouth for good and all, and convince thee how far -superior in all the arts of governing the immortal _Elizabeth_ was to -thy _taciturn Hero_, I’ll first give thee a short sketch of her golden -reign, and afterwards honestly and impartially shew thee a prospect of -the other: - -_Smith._ With all my heart, proceed. - -Sir _Walter_. As my mistress had a true _English_ heart, and made the -prosperity of her people the only business of her life, she suffer’d -none of her ministers to crave to themselves extravagant fortunes out of -the publick purse. Tho’ foreigners flock’d into her dominions as a -certain asylum, yet she never encourag’d them to the detriment of her -native subjects, nor imploy’d them in foreign embassies, nor admitted -them into her councils: her affairs being manag’d with equal prudence -and integrity, and encouragements properly distributed, no wonder she -was so fortunate in all her attempts. Thus we find she supported the -protestants in _France_ against the oppression of the _Guises_, and so -well assisted the _Dutch_ in the infancy of their republick, that -_Philip_ II of _Spain_, with all his forces, was not able to reduce -them. She was so far from bellowing her royal favours upon the -sectaries, that she suppress’d their growing insolence with wholesome -laws, and was as careful to see them put in Execution. She could display -all her father’s magnificence, when there was a proper occasion to exert -it; at other times, she observ’d a strict parsimony, equally -advantageous to her own subjects, and easy to herself. The establish’d -church flourish’d so well under her auspicious administration, that -_England_ never saw so glorious a constellation of reverend bishops and -learned divines, as in her reign. She retrieved the honour of the -_Exchequer_, and manag’d her payments so wisely, that her people thought -their money as safe in her coffers as in their own.---- Now, your -deliverer’s reign was the exact reverse of this happy scene. Schism and -faction advanc’d, hypocrisy and dulness, under the disguise of -reformation, promoted to the highest honours, deism propagated, the true -genuine sons of the church discourag’d, foreigners admitted into our -private councils, trade neglected, our narrow seas daily insulted, the -publick impoverish’d, the treasury exhausted and pillag’d by insatiable -cormorants, the reputation of our arms decay’d and sunk, the sea-man -starv’d, the soldiers paid with paper; in short, nothing but ill -management and poverty at home, and infamy abroad.---- And this I think -is sufficient to shew you, that you were mightily mistaken, when you -compar’d you know who to the immortal _Elizabeth_. - - -_The End of the Second Volume._ - -[Illustration] - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] _Kings of_ Spain. - -[2] _Author of_ St. Bartholomew_’s_. - -[3] _Madam_ Maintenon. - -[4] Scarron. - -[5] _Maintenon._ - -[6] _Madam_ Maintenon. - -[7] _Madam_ Maintenon. - -[8] _Father_ la Chaise. - -[9] _The murderer of_ Henry IV. - -[10] Grandvil _hang’d in_ Flanders, _for attempting to kill King_ -William. - -[11] _King_ William. - -[12] Lewis XIV. - -[13] _A place out of the reach of cannon._ - -[14] Scarron. - -[15] _Great houses near_ Paris. - -[16] Hermitage _near_ Paris. - -[17] _Queen_ Catharine _of_ Spain. - -[18] _Father_ Pahours, _Father_ le Mene, _Jesuits_. - -[19] Charles V. - -[20] _Madam_ Maintenon. - -[21] Scarron. - -[22] _Madam_ Maintenon _was born in_ Martineco. - -[23] Don Carlos. - -[24] Elizabeth _of_ France. - -[25] Don John _of_ Austria. - -[26] _The two Royal Houses of_ France _and_ Spain. - -[27] _Credo pudicitiam Saturno rege moratam._ - -[28] _Monks._ - -[29] _Two ancient poets._ - -[30] _Two modern poets._ - -[31] _Madam_ Maintenon. - -[32] _A_ French _poet, whom_ Boileau _makes free with in his first -satire, and elsewhere_. - -[33] _Madam_ la Valiere. - -[34] _Madam_ de Fontagne. - -[35] _Madam_ de Montespan. - -[36] _The nuns of St._ Cyril. - -[37] West-Indies. - -[38] _The Nunnery of St._ Cyril. - -[39] _Madam_ Maintenon. - -[40] _The voluminous author of_ Cleopatra. - -[41] _He means the late King_ James. - -[42] _A_ French _Proverb for_ no conscience. - -[43] England. - -[44] _Dr._ B----re. - -[45] _Stanzas of_ Nostradamus. - -[46] _Madam_ Maintenon. - -[47] _Madam_ Maintenon. - -[48] _Madam_ Montespan. - -[49] _A proverb in_ French _for a fat large monk or abbot_. Cochon _is_ -French _for a hog_. - -[50] _Pulpit._ - -[51] _The quire._ - -[52] _Kitchen._ - -[53] _Bawdy-house._ - -[54] More commonly call’d with us _Boileau_. - -[55] The taking down the image of our Saviour, and setting up the -_French_ king’s in the room of it, occasioned this distich, - - _Abstulit hinc Iesum, posuitque insignia regis_ - _Impia gens; alium non habet illa Deum._ - - -[56] Over the door of the great hall of the _Invalides_, he is drawn -guiding the chariot of the sun, with beams of glory round his head, -and a thunderbolt in his hand, the four quarters of the world kneeling -before him in a very humble posture, and the motto is, _Je plais a -tous_. - -[57] _The devil laughs every now and then._ - -[58] _The devils all laugh at his negative proof._ - - - -Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber: - - -have his his fortune told=> have his fortune told {pg 3} - -love’s little tabernacle’s=> love’s little tabernacles {pg 5} - -which antient historians tells us=> which antient historians tell us {pg -5} - -was going to say to say something=> was going to say something {pg 10} - -be pimp to noblemens=> be pimp to noblemen’s {pg 16} - -should be excedingly beholden=> should be exceedingly beholden {pg 17} - -whenevever my circumstances=> whenever my circumstances {pg 34} - -continually tormented with with=> continually tormented with {pg 36} - -that abominable dedegree=> that abominable degree {pg 43} - -poor under-tradesmens families=> poor under-tradesmen’s families {pg 46} - -that set set him to work=> that set him to work {pg 55} - -in so dubious and enterprize?=> in so dubious an enterprize? {pg 56} - -If I am not now dispossessed=> if I am not now dispossessed {pg 58} - -mens consciences=> men’s consciences {pg 61} - -your your fame is infinite=> your fame is infinite {pg 61} - -I re-entred=> I re-entered {pg 86} - -charm’d with with the conversation=> charm’d with the conversation {pg -89} - -licentiousuess reign’d=> licentiousness reign’d {pg 90} - -knowing my inlinations=> knowing my inclinations {pg 100} - -as it is as present> as it is at present {pg 103} - -more especiolly=> more especially {pg 106} - -the lusciour morsels=> the luscious morsels {pg 106} - -his farher, had quite another=> his father, had quite another {pg 117} - -two bunchis a penny=> two bunches a penny {pg 122} - -from flesh and dbloo=> from flesh and blood {pg 124} - -you may them judge=> you may then judge {pg 125} - -where it possible=> were it possible {pg 141} - -of the famale fern=> of the female fern {pg 144} - -courtiers and and not me=> courtiers and not me {pg 146} - -by the hogshhead=> by the hogshead {pg 149} - -and pentensions=> and pretensions {pg 155} - -their cheifest delight=> their chiefest delight {pg 156} - -listen to this trembling lays=> listen to his trembling lays {pg 159} - -thar the king=> that the king {pg 159} - -Isarelites=> Israelites {pg 161} - -all affairs are keep in motion=> all affairs are kept in motion {pg 161} - -spill your tobacco, break your gasses=> spill your tobacco, break your -glasses {pg 163} - -character of gurantees=> character of guarantees {pg 165} - -sheding of blood=> shedding of blood {pg 168} - -sieges aftewards=> sieges afterwards {pg 168} - -covetuous lechers=> covetous lechers {pg 168} - -of a a republick=> of a republick {pg 172} - -even that unparalled=> even that unparalleled {pg 174} - -ambassador’s at the Port=> ambassadors at the Port {pg 174} - -confounded at his disapment=> confounded at his disappointment {pg 174} - -at such blaspemous=> at such blasphemous {pg 175} - -indeed we we are=> indeed we are {pg 178} - -Think we, we here’s=> Think we, here’s {pg 188} - -preceiving, exercised=> perceiving, exercised {pg 189} - -wits every foolishly=> wits very foolishly {pg 190} - -enquiry with with his=> enquiry with his {pg 190} - -if I had deen=> if I had been {pg 195} - -set my set my wits=> set my wits {pg 196} - -lie heave=> lie heavy {pg 200} - -so to tell you the truth=> So to tell you the truth {pg 213} - -crushed them them into=> crushed them into {pg 216} - -some women were masks=> some women wear masks {pg 221} - -and and leave=> and leave {pg 223} - -loathsome goal=> loathsome gaol {pg 223} - -were lawn coversluts=> wear lawn coversluts {pg 224} - -were blue and yellow=> wear blue and yellow {pg 224} - -food were silken ornaments=> food wear silken ornaments {pg 224} - -women were turrets=> women wear turrets {pg 225} - -and and I long=> and I long {pg 233} - -if any dody had=> if any body had {pg 236} - -your are sensible=> you are sensible {pg 236} - -make yor rich=> make you rich {pg 240} - -am heartly resolv’d=> am heartily resolv’d {pg 242} - -in in the time=> in the time {pg 244} - -empty cupboad=> empty cupboard {pg 245} - -run up and dow muttering=> run up and down muttering {pg 247} - -reputation fron stinking=> reputation from stinking {pg 251} - -few maxims in famale=> few maxims in female {pg 255} - -Itailan=> Italian {pg 270} - -Philosophers bodies=> Philosophers’ bodies {pg 271} - -but espcially the=> but especially the {pg 278} - -Charles Sidly=> Charles Sidley {pg 278} - -Chancer=> Chaucer {pg 279} - -scur’d by a brace=> secur’d by a brace {pg 283} - -it order to make me a=> in order to make me a {pg 283} - -meaning of that world=> meaning of that word {pg 294} - -aversus equss TYRIA=> aversus equoss TYRIA {pg 295} - -glass or or two=> glass or two {pg 299} - -and when he has it in her pocket=> and when she has it in her pocket {pg -301} - -speaks to a another=> speaks to another {pg 311} - -mam of wit=> man of wit {pg 312} - -I do humby suppose=> I do humbly suppose {pg 319} - -great deal of mony=> great deal of money {pg 320} - -Partick’s purgatory=> Patrick’s purgatory {pg 322} - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF MR. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/69126-0.zip b/old/69126-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b38f8da..0000000 --- a/old/69126-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69126-h.zip b/old/69126-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index ae0a51c..0000000 --- a/old/69126-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/69126-h/69126-h.htm b/old/69126-h/69126-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index b7339fc..0000000 --- a/old/69126-h/69126-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13379 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> - <head> <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> -<title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of The second volume -of the works of Mr Thomas Brown. -</title> -<style> - -a:link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} - - link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} - -a:visited {background-color:#ffffff;color:purple;text-decoration:none;} - -a:hover {background-color:#ffffff;color:#FF0000;text-decoration:underline;} - -.big {font-size: 150%;letter-spacing:.25em;} -.bigg {font-size: 250%;letter-spacing:.025em;} - -.blk {page-break-before:always;page-break-after:always;} - -body{margin-left:4%;margin-right:6%;background:#ffffff;color:black;font-family:"Times New Roman", serif;font-size:medium;} - -.blockquot {margin-top:2%;margin-bottom:2%;} - -.c {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} - -.ceng {font-family: "Old English Text MT",fantasy,sans-serif; -text-align:center;text-indent:0%;font-weight:bold;} - -.cb {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;font-weight:bold;} - -.fint {text-align:center;text-indent:0%; -margin-top:2em;font-size:120%;} - -.figcenter {margin:3% auto 3% auto;clear:both; -text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} - -.footnotes {border:dotted 3px gray;margin-top:5%;clear:both;} - -.footnote {width:95%;margin:auto 3% 1% auto;font-size:0.9em;position:relative;} - -.label {position:relative;left:-.5em;top:0;text-align:left;font-size:.8em;} - -.fnanchor {vertical-align:30%;font-size:.8em;} - -.hang {text-indent:-2%;margin-left:2%;} - - h1 {margin-top:5%;text-align:center;clear:both; -font-weight:normal;} - - h2 {margin-top:4%;margin-bottom:2%;text-align:center;clear:both; - font-size:140%;font-weight:normal;} - - h3 {margin:4% auto 2% auto;text-align:center;clear:both; - font-size:100%;font-weight:normal;} - - hr {width:90%;margin:.5em auto .5em auto;clear:both;color:black;} - - hr.full {width: 60%;margin:2% auto 2% auto;border-top:1px solid black; -padding:.1em;border-bottom:1px solid black;border-left:none;border-right:none;} - - img {border:none;} - -.ltspc {letter-spacing:.25em; -font-size:150%;} - -.letra {font-size:250%;float:left;margin-top:-1%; -margin-right:.1em;} - -.nind {text-indent:0%;} - - p {margin-top:.2em;text-align:justify;margin-bottom:.2em;text-indent:4%;} - -.pagenum {font-style:normal;position:absolute; -left:95%;font-size:55%;text-align:right;color:gray; -background-color:#ffffff;font-variant:normal;font-style:normal;font-weight:normal;text-decoration:none;text-indent:0em;} - -.pdd {padding-left:1em;text-indent:-1em;} - -.r {text-align:right;margin-right: 5%;} - -.redd {color:red;} - -.rt {text-align:right;} - -.rtb {text-align:right;vertical-align:bottom;} - -small {font-size: 70%;} - - sup {font-size:75%;vertical-align:top;} - -.smcap {font-variant:small-caps;font-size:100%; -letter-spacing:.1em;} - -table {margin:2% auto;border:none;} - -table.widd {margin:1em auto;max-width:75%;} - -td {padding-top:.15em;} - -th {padding-top:.5em;padding-bottom:.25em;} - -tr {vertical-align:top;} - -div.poetry {text-align:center;} -div.poem {font-size:90%;margin:auto auto;text-indent:0%; -display: inline-block; text-align: left;} -.poem .stanza {margin-top: 1em;margin-bottom:1em;} -.poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -</style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The works of Mr. Thomas Brown, serious and comical : in prose and verse, with his remains in four volumes compleat; vol. II, by Thomas Brown</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The works of Mr. Thomas Brown, serious and comical : in prose and verse, with his remains in four volumes compleat; vol. II</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Thomas Brown</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 10, 2022 [eBook #69126]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF MR. THOMAS BROWN, SERIOUS AND COMICAL : IN PROSE AND VERSE, WITH HIS REMAINS IN FOUR VOLUMES COMPLEAT; VOL. II ***</div> -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/cover.jpg"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="320" height="500" alt="[Image -of the book's cover is unavailable.]"/></a> -</p> - -<div class="blk"> -<table style="border: 2px black solid;margin:auto auto;max-width:50%; -padding:1%;"> -<tr><td> -<p class="c"><a href="#CONTENTS">Contents.</a></p> -<p class="c">Some typographical errors have been corrected; -<a href="#transcrib">a list follows the text</a>.</p> -<p class="c">(etext transcriber's note)</p></td></tr> -</table> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/ill_001.jpg"> -<img src="images/ill_001.jpg" height="600" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<div class="blk"> -<h1><small><small>THE</small></small><br /> -<span class="smcap">S e c o n d   V o l u m e</span><br /> -<small><small>OF THE</small></small><br /> -<span class="big"><span class="redd">WORKS</span></span><br /> -<small><small>OF</small></small><br /> -Mr. <i>Thomas Brown</i>.</h1> - -<hr /> - -<p class="cb">Containing<br /> -<span class="big"><span class="redd">LETTERS</span></span><br /> -<small>FROM THE</small><br /><span class="ltspc"> -<span class="smcap">Dead</span> to the <span class="smcap">Living</span>,</span><br /> -<small>And from the</small><br /><span class="ltspc"> -<span class="smcap">Living</span> to the <span class="smcap">Dead</span>.</span><br /> -<small>Together with</small><br /><span class="ltspc"> -<i>Dialogues of the D E A D</i>,<br /></span> -After the Manner of <span class="smcap">Lucian</span>.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="ceng">The Seventh Edition carefully Corrected.</p> - -<hr /> -<hr /> - -<p class="cb"><i><span class="ltspc">LONDON</span></i>:<br /> -Printed by and for <i><span class="redd">Edward Midwinter</span></i>, at the<br /> -<i>Looking-Glass</i> on <i>London-Bridge</i>. 1730. -</p> - -<hr /> - -</div> - -<div class="blk"> -<h1> -<small><small>T H E</small></small><br /> -WORKS<br /> -<small><small>O F</small></small><br /> -Mr. <i>Thomas Brown</i>.</h1> - -<hr /> - -<p class="c"><span class="ltspc">VOLUME</span> the Second.<br /></p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="c"> -<img src="images/colophon.jpg" -style="margin-top:3em;" -width="275" -alt="[Image unavailable.]" /> -<br /> -<br /> -<i><span class="ltspc">LONDON</span></i>: Printed in the Year, 1727.<br /> -</p> -</div> - -<h2> -<a href="images/contents.jpg"> -<img src="images/contents.jpg" -width="450" -alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a><br /> -<a id="CONTENTS"></a>The <span class="ltspc">CONTENTS</span></h2> - -<p class="c">Of the Second Volume.</p> - -<table class="widd"> -<tr><td class="pdd"><span class="bigg">A</span> <i>Letter -of News from Mr.</i> Joseph Haines, <i>of Merry Memory, -to his Friends at</i> Will’s Coffee-House <i>in</i> Covent-Garden</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_1">Page 1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_18">18</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Scarron <i>to</i> Lewis XIV.</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_21">21</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hannibal <i>to P.</i> Eugene</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_33">33</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Pindar <i>to</i> Tom Durfey</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_34">34</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">James II. <i>to</i> Lewis XIV.</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_35">35</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_38">38</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Julian <i>to</i> Will. Pierre</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_41">41</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_44">44</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Antiochus <i>to</i> Lewis XIV.</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_48">48</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_50">50</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Catherine de Medicis <i>to the Duchess of</i> Orleans</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_52">52</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_54">54</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>Cardinal</i> Mazarine <i>to the Marquis</i> de Barbisieux</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_55">55</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_57">57</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Mary I. <i>to the Pope</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_58">58</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_60">60</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Harlequin <i>to</i> le Chaise</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_61">61</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_63">63</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>Duke of</i> Alva <i>to the Clergy of</i> France</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_64">64</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_66">66</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Philip <i>of</i> Austria <i>to the</i> Dauphin</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_67">67</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_69">69</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Juvenal <i>to</i> Boileau</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_70">70</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_72">72</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Diana <i>of</i> Poictiers <i>to Madam</i> Maintenon</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_74">74</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_76">76</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hugh Spencer <i>junr. to all Favourites, &c.</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_77">77</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_79">79</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Julia <i>to the Princess of</i> Conti</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_80">80</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_83">83</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Dionysius <i>junr. to all Favourites, &c.</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_85">85</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_87">87</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Christiana <i>Queen of</i> Sweden, <i>to the Ladies</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_88">88</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_91">91</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Dr. Francis Rabelais <i>to the Physicians</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_93">93</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_96">96</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>Duchess of</i> Fontagne <i>to the</i> Cumean <i>Sybil</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_97">97</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_99">99</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Mitred Hog</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_101">101</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>Beau</i> Norton <i>to the Beaux</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_118">118</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Perkin Warbeck <i>to the pretended Prince of Wales</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_123">123</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Dryden <i>to the Lord</i> —</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_124">124</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Cowley <i>to the</i> Covent Garden <i>Society</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_125">125</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Charon <i>to</i> Jack Catch</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_126">126</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>Sir</i> Bartholomew Shower <i>to Serjeant S—</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_127">127</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Jo. Haines’<i>s</i> 2d <i>Letter</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_132">132</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>Sir</i> Fleetwood Shepherd <i>to Mr.</i> Prior</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_153">153</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_156">156</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Pomigny <i>of</i> Auvergne <i>to Mr.</i> Abel <i>the singing Master</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_157">157</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_160">160</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>Signor</i> Nichola <i>to Mr.</i> Buckly <i>at the Swan Coffee-House in</i> Bloomsbury</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_162">162</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ignatius Loyola <i>to the Archbishop of</i> Toledo</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_163">163</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>Alderman</i> Floyer <i>to Sir</i> Humphry Edwin</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_165">165</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>Sir</i> John Norris, <i>Q.</i> Elizabeth’s <i>General, to Sir</i> Henry Bellasis <i>and Sir</i> Charles Hara</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_167">167</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>Duke of</i> Medina Sidonia <i>to Mons.</i> Chateau Renault</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_170">170</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Marcellinus <i>to Mons.</i> Boileau</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_172">172</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Cornelius Gallus <i>to the Lady</i> Dilliana</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_176">176</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>Bully</i> Dawson <i>to Bully</i> Watson</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_179">179</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_192">192</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Nell Gwinn <i>to</i> Peg Hughes</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_201">201</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_202">202</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hugh Peters <i>to</i> Daniel Burgess</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_204">204</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_211">211</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ludlow <i>to the Calves-Head Club</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_214">214</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_216">216</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Naylor <i>to the</i> Quakers</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_219">219</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_223">223</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Lilly <i>to</i> Cooley</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_226">226</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_230">230</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Tony Lee <i>to</i> Cave Underhill</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_233">233</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_236">236</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>Alderman</i> Blackwell <i>to Sir</i> C. Duncombe</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_237">237</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_241">241</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Henry Purcell <i>to Dr.</i> Blow</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_245">245</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_247">247</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>Mrs.</i> Behn <i>to the Virgin Actress</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_250">250</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_254">254</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>Madam</i> Creswell <i>to</i> Moll Quarles</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_257">257</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>The Answer</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_262">262</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Jo. Haines’s <i>third Letter</i></td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_267">267</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Certamen Epistolare <i>between an Attorney of</i> Clifford’s-Inn <i>and a dead Parson from</i> Page 290 <i>to</i> Page</td><td class="rtb"><a href="#page_305">305</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd"><i>Dialogues of the Dead from</i> </td><td class="rtb">Page <a href="#page_306">306</a> to the end.</td></tr></table> - -<p class="c"> -<img src="images/deco.jpg" -width="70" -alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_1">{1}</a></span></p> - -<h2> -<img src="images/contents.jpg" -width="450" -alt="[Image unavailable.]" /> -<br /> -<a id="LETTERS1"></a><span class="ltspc">LETTERS</span><br /><br /> -<small>F R O M   T H E</small><br /><br /> -<span class="ltspc"><span class="smcap">Dead</span> to the <span class="smcap">Living</span>.</span></h2> - -<hr /> -<h2><a id="Part_I"></a><span class="smcap">Part I.</span></h2> -<hr /> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang"><i>A</i> Letter <i>of News from Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Joseph Haines</span>, <i>of Merry Memory, to -his Friends at</i> Will<i>’s Coffee-House in</i> Covent-Garden. <i>By Mr.</i> -<span class="smcap">Tho. Brown</span>.</p></div> - -<p><i>Gentlemen</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> Had done myself the honour to write to you long ago, but wanted a -convenience of sending my letter; for you must not imagine ’tis as easy -a matter for us on this side the river <i>Styx</i>, to maintain a -correspondence with you in the upper world, as ’tis to send a pacquet -from <i>London</i> to <i>Rotterdam</i>, or from <i>Paris</i> to <i>Madrid</i>: But upon the -news of a fresh war ready to break out in your part of the world, -(which, by the by, makes us keep holy-day here in hell) <i>Pluto</i> having -thought fit to dispatch an extraordinary messenger to see how your -parliament, upon whose resolutions the fate of <i>Europe</i> seems wholly to -depend, will behave themselves in this critical<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_2">{2}</a></span> conjuncture. I tipp’d -the fellow a George to carry this letter for me, and leave it with the -master at <i>Will</i>’s in his way to <i>Westminster</i>.</p> - -<p>I am not insensible, gentlemen, that <i>Homer</i>, <i>Virgil</i>, <i>Dante</i>, Don -<i>Quevedo</i>, and many more before me, have given an account of these -subterranean dominions, for which reason it may look like affectation or -vanity in me to meddle with a subject so often handled; but if new -travels into <i>Italy</i>, <i>Spain</i> and <i>Germany</i>, are daily read with -approbation, because new matters of enquiry and observation perpetually -arise, I don’t see why the present state of the <i>Plutonian</i> kingdoms may -not be acceptable, there having been as great changes and alterations in -these infernal regions, as in any other part of the universe whatever.</p> - -<p>When I shook hands with your upper hemisphere, I stumbled into a dark, -uncouth, dismal lane, which, if it be lawful to compare great things -with small, somewhat resembles that dusky dark cut under the mountains -called the <i>grotto</i> of <i>Puzzoli</i> in the way to <i>Naples</i>. I was in so -great a consternation, that I don’t remember exactly how long it was, -but this I remember full well, that there were a world of ditches on -both sides of the wall, adorned and furnished with harpies, gorgons, -centaurs, chimeras, and such like pretty curiosities, which could not -but give a man a world of titillation as he traveled on the road. The -three-headed <i>Gerion</i>, put me in mind of the master of the <i>Temple</i>’s -three intellectual minds, and when I saw <i>Briares</i> with his hundred arms -and hands, out of my zeal to king <i>William</i> and his government, I could -not but wish that we had so well qualify’d a person for secretary of -state ever since the Revolution; for having so many heads and hands to -employ, he might easily have managed all affairs domestick and foreign, -and been both dictator and clerk to himself. Which besides the advantage -of keeping secret all orders and instructions, (and that you know, -gentlemen, is of no small importance in politicks) would have saved his -majesty no inconsiderable sum in his civil list.</p> - -<p>Being arrived at the end of this doleful and execrable lane, I came into -a large open, barren plain, thro’ which ran a river, whose water was as -black as my hat: Coming<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_3">{3}</a></span> to the banks of this wonderful river, an old -ill-look’d wrinkl’d fellow in a tatter’d boat, which did not seem to be -worth a groat, making towards the shoar, beckon’d, and held out his -right-hand to me: Knowing nothing of his business or character, I could -not imagine what he meant by doing so; but upon second thoughts, -thinking he had a mind to have his fortune told, <i>You must understand, -old gentleman</i>, says I to him, <i>that there are three principal lines in -a man’s hand, the first of which is called by the learned</i> Ludovicus -Vives, <i>Secretary to</i> Tamerlain <i>the magnificent, the</i> linea boetica, -<i>line of life; the second, the</i> linea hepatica, <i>or liver line; the -third and last, the</i> linea intercalaris, <i>so call’d by</i> Sebastian -Munster <i>and</i> Erra Pater, <i>because it crosses the two aforesaid lines in -an equicrural parabola</i>. Hold your impertinent stuff, says the old -ferryman, <i>erra</i> me no <i>erra paters</i>, but speak to the point, and give -me my fare, if you design to come over. By this I perceiv’d my mistake, -and knew him to be <i>Charon</i>: So I dived into my pockets, but alas! I -found all the birds were flown, if ever any had been there, which you -may believe, gentlemen, was no small mortification to me. Get you gone -for a rascally scoundrel as you are, says <i>Charon</i>, some son of whore of -a fiddler, or player, I warrant you; go and take up your quarters with -those pennyless rogues that are sunning themselves on yonder hillock. To -see now how a man may be mistaken by a fair outside! when I came up to -’em, I found them a parcel of jolly well-look’d fellows, who, one would -have thought were wealthy enough to have fined for sheriffs: I counted, -let me see, six princes of the empire that were younger brothers, ten -<i>French</i> counts, fourteen knights of <i>Malta</i>, twelve <i>Welsh</i> gentlemen, -sixteen <i>Scotch</i> lairds, with abundance of chymists, projectors, -insurers, noblemens creditors, and the like; that were all wind-bound -for want of the ready <i>rhino</i>. Two days we continued in this doleful -condition; and as Dr. <i>Sherlock</i> says of himself, in relation to the -13th chapter of the <i>Romans</i>, <i>here I stuck, and had stuck till the last -conflagration, if it had not been for bishop</i> Overall<i>’s -Convocation-Book</i>; e’en so here we might have tarry’d world without end, -if an honest teller of the <i>Exchequer</i>, and a clerk of the <i>pay-office</i>, -had not come to our relief; who understanding our case, cry’d out, -<i>Come<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_4">{4}</a></span> along, gentlemen, we have money enough to defray twenty such -trifles as this; God be prais’d, we had the good luck to die before the -parliament looked into our accounts</i>. With that they gave <i>Charon</i> a -broad-piece each of ’em, so our whole caravan consisting of about 70 -persons in all, that had not a farthing in the world to bless -themselves, ferry’d over to the other side of the river.</p> - -<p>As we were crossing the stream, <i>Charon</i> told us how an <i>Irish</i> captain -would have trick’d him. He came strutting down to the river-side, says -he, as fine as a prince, in a long scarlet cloak, all bedaub’d with -silver lace, but had not a penny about him. <i>Dear joy</i>, crys he to me, -<i>I came away in a little haste from the other world, and left my -breeches behind me, but I’ll make thee amends by Chreest and St.</i> -Patrick, <i>for I’ll refresh thy antient nostrils with some of</i> -Hippolito<i>’s best snuff, which cost me a week ago, a crown an ounce</i>. I -told the <i>Hibernian</i>, that old birds were not to be taken with chaff, -nor <i>Charon</i> to be banter’d out of his due with a little dust of -sot-weed; and giving him a reprimand with my stretcher over the noddle, -bid him go, like a coxcomb as he was, about his business. The wretch -santer’d about the banks for a month, but at last, pretended to be a -<i>Frenchman</i>, got over gratis this summer, among the duke of <i>Orlean</i>’s -retinue. But what was the most surprizing piece of news I ever heard, -<i>Charon</i> assured us, upon his veracity, that the late king of <i>Spain</i> -was forc’d to lie by full a fortnight, for want of money to carry him -over; for cardinal <i>Portocarero</i> had been so busy in forging his will, -that he had forgot to leave the poor monarch a farthing in his pocket; -and that at last, one of his own grandees, coming by that way, was so -complaisant as to defray his prince’s passage; and well he might, says -our surly ferryman, for in five years time he had cheated him of two -millions.</p> - -<p>We were no sooner landed on the other side of the river, but some of us -fil’d off to the right, and others to the left, as their business called -them: For my part, I made the best of my way to the famous city -<i>Brandinopolis</i>, seated upon the river <i>Phlegethon</i>, as being a place of -the greatest commerce and resort in all king <i>Pluto</i>’s dominions. Who -should I meet upon the road but my old friend said acquaintance Mr. -<i>Nokes</i>, the comedian, who received<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_5">{5}</a></span> me with all imaginable love and -affection? Mr. <i>Haines</i>, says he, <i>I am glad with all my heart to see -you in Hell</i>; upon my salvation, we have expected you here this great -while, and I question not but our royal master will give you a reception -befitting a person of your extraordinary merit. Mr. <i>Nokes</i>, said I, -<i>Your most obedient servant</i>, you are pleas’d to compliment, but I know -no other merit I have, but that of being honour’d with your friendship. -<i>But my dear</i> Jo., cries he, <i>how go affairs in Covent-Garden?</i> Does -cuckoldom flourish, and fornication maintain its ground still against -the reformers? And the play-house in <i>Drury-Lane</i>, is it as much -frequented as it us’d to be? I had no sooner given him a satisfactory -answer to these questions, but we found ourselves in the suburbs; so my -friend <i>Nokes</i>, with that gaity and openness, which became him so well -at the play-house, <i>Jo.</i>, says he, I’ll give thee thy welcome to Hell; -with that he carry’d me to a little blind coffee-house, in the middle of -a dirty alley, but certainly one of the worst furnish’d tenements I ever -beheld: there was nothing to be seen but a few broken pipes, two or -three founder’d chairs, and bare naked walls, with not so much as a -superannuated almanack, or tatter’d ballad to keep ’em in countenance; -so that I could not but fancy myself in some of love’s little -tabernacles about <i>Wildstreet</i>, or <i>Drury-Lane</i>. Come, Mr. <i>Haines</i>, and -what are you disposed to drink? What you please, Sir. Here, madam, give -the gentleman a glass of <i>Geneva</i>. As soon as I had whipp’d it down, my -friend <i>Nokes</i> plucking me by the sleeve, and whispering me in the ear, -prithee <i>Jo.</i>, who dost think that lady at the bar is? I consider’d her -very attentively, by the same token she was three times as ugly as my -lady <i>Frightall</i>, countess of —— and three times as thick and bulky as -Mrs. <i>Pix</i> the poetress, and very fairly told him, I knew her not. Why -then I shall surprize you. This is the famous <i>Semiramis</i>. The Devil she -is! answer’d I: What is this the celebrated and renowned queen of -<i>Babylon</i>, she that built those stupendious walls and pensile gardens, -of which antient historians tell us so many miracles; that victorious -<i>heroine</i>, who eclipsed the triumphs of her illustrious husband; that -added <i>Æthiopia</i> to her empire; and was the wonder as well as the -ornament of her sex? Is it possible she should<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_6">{6}</a></span> fall so low as to be -forced to sell <i>Geneva</i>, and such ungodly liquors for a subsistence? -’Tis e’en so, says Mr. <i>Nokes</i>, and this may serve as a lesson of -instruction to you, that when once death has laid his icy paws upon us, -all other distinctions of fortune and quality immediately vanish. These -words were no sooner out of his mouth, but in came a formal old -gentleman, and plucking a large wooden box from under his cloak, <i>Will -you have any fine snuff</i>, gentlemen, <i>here is the finest snuff in the -universe</i>, gentlemen; <i>a never failing remedy</i>, gentlemen, <i>against the -megrims and head-ach</i>. And who do you take this worthy person to be? -says Mr. <i>Nokes</i>, But that I am in this lower world, cry’d I, I durst -swear ’tis the very individual quaker that sells his herb-snuff at the -<i>Rainbow</i> coffee-house. Damnably mistaken, says Mr. <i>Nokes</i>, before -<i>George</i>, no less a man than the great <i>Cyrus</i>, the first founder of the -<i>Persian</i> monarchy. I was going to bless myself at this discovery, when -a jolly red-nos’d woman in a straw-hat popt into the room, and in a -shrill treble cry’d out, <i>Any buckles, combs or scissars</i>, gentlemen, -<i>and tooth-picks, bottle-screws or twizers, silver buttons or -tobacco-stoppers</i>, gentlemen; well now, my worthy friend, Mr. <i>Haines</i>, -who do you think this to be? The Lord knows, reply’d I, for here are -such an unaccountable choppings and changings among you that the Devil -can’t tell what to make of ’em. Why then, in short, this is the virtuous -<i>Thalestris</i>, Queen of the <i>Amazons</i>, the same numerical princess, that -beat the hoof so many hundred leagues to get <i>Alexander</i> the Great to -administer his royal nipple to her. But <i>Jo.</i> since I find thee so -affected at these alterations that have happen’d to persons who lived so -many hundred years ago, I am resolv’d to shew thee some of a more modern -date, and particularly of such as either thou wast acquainted with in -the other world, or at lead hast often heard mention’d in company. So -calling for the other glass of <i>Geneva</i>, he left a tester at the bar, -and <i>Semiramis</i>, to shew her courtly breeding, dropp’d us abundance of -curtesies, and paid us as much respect at our coming out, as your -two-penny <i>French</i> barbers in <i>Soho</i> do to a gentleman that gives them a -brace of odd half-pence above the original contract in their sign.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 347px;"> -<a href="images/ill_006.jpg"> -<img src="images/ill_006.jpg" width="347" height="600" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_7">{7}</a></span></p> - -<p>We walk’d thro’ half a dozen streets without meeting any thing worthy of -observation. At last my friend <i>Nokes</i>, pointed to a little edifice, -which exactly resembles Dr. <i>Burgess</i>’s conventicle in <i>Russel-Court</i>; -says he, your old acquaintance <i>Tony Lee</i>, who turn’d presbyterian -parson, upon his coming into these quarters, holds forth most notably -here every <i>Sunday</i>; <i>Jacob Hall</i> and <i>Jevon</i> are his clerks, and chant -it admirably. Mother <i>Stratford</i>, the duchess of <i>Mazarine</i>, my lord -<i>Warwick</i>, and Sir <i>Fleetwood</i>, are his constant hearers; and to -<i>Tony</i>’s everlasting honour be it spoken, he delivers his fire and -brimstone with so good a grace, splits his text so judiciously, turns up -the whites of his eyes so theologically, cuffs his cushion so -orthodoxly, and twirls his band-strings so primitively, that <i>Pluto</i> has -lately made him one of his chaplains in ordinary. From this we crossed -another street, which one may properly enough call the <i>Bow-street</i>, or -<i>Pall-Mall</i> of <i>Brandinopolis</i>. No sawcy tradesman or mechanick dares -presume to live here, but ’tis wholly inhabited by fine gaudy fluttering -sparks, and fine airy ladies; who in no respect are inferior to yours in -<i>Covent-Garden</i>. When the sky is serene, and not a breath of wind -stirring, you may see whole covies of them displaying their finery in -the street; but at other times you never see ’em our of a chair, for -fear of discomposing their commodes or periwigs. We had not gone twenty -paces, before we met three flaming beaux of the first magnitude, the -like of whom we never saw at the <i>Vourthoot</i> at the <i>Hague</i>, the -<i>Tuilleries</i> at <i>Paris</i>, or the <i>Mall</i> in St. <i>James</i>’s-park. They were -all three in black (for you must know we are in deep mourning here for -the death of my lady <i>Proserpine</i>’s favourite monkey) but he in the -middle, tho’ he had neither face nor shape to qualify him for a gallant: -for he had a phyz as forbidden as beau <i>Whitaker</i>, and was as thick -about the waste, as the fat squab porter at the <i>Griffin</i>-tavern in -<i>Fuller’s-Rents</i>, yet he made a most magnificent figure: His periwig was -large enough to have loaded a camel, and he had, bestowed upon it at -least a bushel of powder, I warrant you. His sword-knot dangled upon the -ground, and his steenkirk that was most agreeably discolour’d with snuff -from top to bottom, reach’d down to his waste; he carry’d his hat under -his left-arm, walk’d with both his<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_8">{8}</a></span> hands in the wastband of his -breeches, and his cane that hung negligently down in a string from his -right-arm, trail’d most harmoniously against the pebbles, while the -master of it, tripping it nicely upon his toes, was humming to himself,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Oh, ye happy happy groves,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Witness of our tender loves.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">Having given you this description of him, I need not trouble myself to -enlarge upon the dress of his two companions, who, tho’ they fell much -short of his inimitable original in point of garniture and dress, yet -they were singular enough to have drawn the eyes of men, women and -children after ’em in any part of <i>Europe</i>. As I observed this sight -with a great deal of admiration, Mr. <i>Nokes</i> very gravely asked me, who -I took the middlemost person to be; upon my telling him I had never seen -him before, nor knew a syllable of him or his private history; why, says -Mr. <i>Nokes</i>, this is <i>Diogenes</i> the famous cynic philosopher, and his -two companions are <i>George Fox</i> and <i>James Naylor</i> the quakers. -<i>Diogenes</i>, reply’d I to him, why he was one of the arrantest slovens in -all <i>Greece</i>, and a profess’d enemy to laundresses, for he never parted -with his shirt, ’till his shirt parted with him. No matter for that, -says Mr. <i>Nokes</i>, the case is alter’d now with him, for he has the -vanity and affectation of twenty Sir <i>Courtly Nice</i>’s blended together; -he constantly dispatches a courier to <i>Lisbon</i> every month, to bring him -a cargo of <i>Limons</i> to wash his hands with; he sends to <i>Montpelier</i> for -<i>Hungary</i>-water; <i>Turin</i> furnishes him with <i>Rosa Solis</i>; <i>Nismes</i> with -<i>Eau de Conelle</i>, and <i>Paris</i> with <i>Ratifia</i> to settle his maw in the -morning. Nothing will go down with him but <i>Ortolans</i>, <i>Snipes</i>, and -<i>Woodcocks</i>; and <i>Matson</i>, that some years ago liv’d at the <i>Rummer</i> in -<i>Queen-street</i>, is the administrator of his kitchen. This, said I to -him, is the most phantastick change I have seen since my passing the -<i>Styx</i>: for who the plague wou’d have believ’d that that antient quaker -<i>Diogenes</i>, and those modern cynicks, <i>Fox</i> and <i>Naylor</i>, should -degenerate so much from their primitive institution, as to set up for -fops? When we came up to ’em, <i>Diogenes</i> gave us a most gracious bow, -but those<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_9">{9}</a></span> two everlasting complimenters, his friends, I was afraid -wou’d have murder’d me with their civilities; for which reason I -disingaged myself from ’em something abruptly, by the same token I -overheard <i>James Naylor</i> call me <i>bougre insulare</i> and <i>tramontane</i>, for -my ill manners.</p> - -<p>When the coast was clear of ’em, says I to my <i>Nokes</i>, every thing is so -turned topsy-turvy here with you, that I can hardly resolve myself -whether I walk upon my head or my feet: right, Mr. <i>Haines</i>, says he, -but time is precious; so let’s mend our pace if you please, that we may -see all the curiosities of this renowned city before ’tis dark.</p> - -<p>The next street we came into, we saw a tall thin-gutted mortal driving a -wheel-barrow of pears before him, and crying in a hoarse tone, <i>pears -twenty a penny</i>; looking him earnestly in the face, I presently knew him -to be beau <i>Heveiningham</i>, but I found he was shy, and so took no -further notice of him. Not ten doors from hence, says Mr. <i>Nokes</i>, lives -poor <i>Norton</i>, that shot himself. I ask’d him in what quality, he -answered me, as a sub-operator to a disperser of darkness, <i>anglicè</i>, a -journeyman to a tallow-chandler. I would willingly have made him a short -visit, but was intercepted in my design by a brace of fellows that were -link’d to their good behaviour, like a pair of <i>Spanish</i> galley-slaves; -tho’ they agreed as little as <i>Jowler</i> and <i>Ringwood</i> coupled together, -for one of ’em lugg’d one away, and his brother the other. I soon knew -them to be <i>Dick Baldwin</i>, the whig-bookseller, and <i>Mason</i> the -non-swearing parson, whom, as I was afterwards informed, judge <i>Minos</i>, -had order’d to be yoak’d thus, to be a mutual plague and punishment to -one another. Both of ’em made up to us as hard as they could drive. -<i>Well, Sir, says the</i> Levite, <i>what comfortable news do you bring from -St.</i> Germains? <i>Our old friend</i> Lewis le Grand <i>is well I hope. Damn</i> -Lewis le Grand, <i>and all his adherents, cries</i> Dick Baldwin. <i>Pray Sir, -what racy touches of scandal have been publish’d of late</i>, by my worthy -friends, <i>Sam. Johnson</i>, Mr. <i>Tutchin</i>, and honest Mr. <i>Atwood</i>; and the -gallows that groan’d so long for <i>Robin Hog</i> the messenger, when is it -like to lose its longing? Have no fresh batteries attack’d the court -lately from honest Mr. <i>Darby</i>’s in <i>Bartholomew-Close</i>? And prithee -what new piracies<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_10">{10}</a></span> from the quakers at the <i>Pump</i> in <i>Little-Britain</i>? -What new whales, devils, ghosts, murders; from <i>Wilkins</i> in the -<i>Fryars</i>? But above all, dear Sir, of what kidney are the present -sheriffs; and particularly my lord-mayor, how stands he affected? Why -<i>Dick</i>, says I to him, fearing to be stunn’d with more interrogatories, -tho’ most of the folks I have seen here are changed either for the -better or the worse, yet I find thou art the true, primitive, busy, -pragmatical, prating, muttering <i>Dick Baldwin</i> still, and will be so to -the end of the chapter. In the name of the three furies, what should -make thee trouble thyself about sheriffs and lord-mayor? But thou art of -the same foolish belief, I find, with thy brother coxcombs at <i>North</i>’s -coffee-house, who think all the fate of christendom depends upon the -choice of a lord-mayor; whereas to talk of things familiarly, and as we -ought to do, what is this two-legg’d animal ycleped a lord-mayor, but a -certain temporary machine of the city’s setting up, who on certain -appointed days is oblig’d to ride on horse-back to please the -<i>Cheapside</i> wives, who must scuffle his way thro’ so many furlongs of -custard, who is only terrible to delinquent-bakers, oyster-women, and -scavengers; and has no other privilege above his brethren, as I know of, -but that of taking a comfortable nap in his gold chain at <i>Paul</i>’s or -<i>Salter’s-Hall</i>; to either of which places his conscience, that is, his -interest, carries him. Surly <i>Dick</i> was going to say something in -defence of the city magistrate, but my brother <i>Nokes</i> and I prevented -him, by calling to the next hackney coachman, whom, to my great -surprise, I found to be the famous Dr. <i>Busby</i> of <i>Westminster</i>-school; -who now, instead of flogging boys, was content to act in an humbler -sphere, and exercise his lashing talent upon horses. We ordered him to -set us down at <i>Bedlam</i>, where my friend <i>Nokes</i> assured me we should -find diversion enough, and the first person we met with in this -celebrated mansion, was the famous queen <i>Dido</i> of <i>Carthage</i>, supported -by the ingenious Mrs. <i>Behn</i> on the one side, and the learned -<i>Christiana</i>, queen of <i>Sweden</i>, on the other. <i>Gentlemen</i>, cry’d she, -<i>I conjure you, by that respect which is due to truth, and by that -complaisance which is owing to us of the fair sex, to believe none of -those idle lies that</i> Virgil <i>hath told of me. That impudent versifyer -has given out, that I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_11">{11}</a></span> murder’d myself for the sake of his pious</i> -Trojan, <i>the hero of his romance; whereas I declare to you, gentlemen, -as I hope to be sav’d, that I never saw the face of that fugitive -scoundrel in my life, but dy’d in my bed with as much decency and -resignation as any woman in the parish: but what touches my honour most -of all, is that most horrid calumny of my being all alone with</i> Æneas -<i>in the cave</i>. Upon this I humbly remonstrated to her majesty, that -altho’ <i>Virgil</i> had taken the liberty to leave her and his pious -<i>Trojan</i> in a grotto together, yet he no where insinuated that any thing -criminal had passed between ’em. How, says Mr. <i>Behn</i>, in a fury, was it -not scandal enough in all conscience, to say that a man and a woman were -in a dark blind cavern by themselves? What tho’ there was no such -convenience as a bed or a couch in the room; nay, not so much as a -broken-back’d chair, yet I desire you to tell me, sweet Mr. <i>Haines</i>, -what other business can a man and a woman have in the dark together, -but——. Ay, cries the queen of <i>Sweden</i>, what other business can a man -and a woman have in the dark, but, as the fellow says in the <i>Moor of -Venice</i>, to make the beast with two backs? not to pick straws I hope, or -to tell tales of a tub. Under favour, ladies, reply’d I, ’tis impossible -I should think, for a grave sober man, and a woman of discretion, to -pass a few hours alone, without carrying matters so far home as you -insinuate. What in the dark? cries queen <i>Dido</i>, that’s mine a —— in a -band-box. Let peoples inclinations be never so modest and virtuous, yet -this cursed darkness puts the devil and all of wickedness into their -heads: the man will be pushing on his side, that’s certain; and as for -the woman, I’ll swear for her, that when no body can see her blush, she -will be consenting. In fine, tho’ the soul be never so well fortify’d to -hold out a siege, yet the body, as soon as love’s artillery begins to -play upon it, it will soon beat a parley, and make a separate treaty for -itself.</p> - -<p>Thus her <i>Punick</i> majesty ran on, and the Lord knows when her royal -clack would have done striking, if a female messenger had not come to -her in the nick of time, and whisper’d her in the ear, to go to the -famous <i>Lucretia</i>’s crying-out, who, it seems, was got with child upon a -hay-cock, by <i>Æsop</i> the fabulist. As soon as queen<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_12">{12}</a></span> <i>Dido</i> and her two -prattling companions were gone out of the room, Mr. <i>Nokes</i>, says I, you -have without question seen <i>Æsop</i> very often, therefore pray let me beg -the favour of you, to tell me whether he is such a deformed ill-favoured -wight, as the historians represent him; for you must know we have a -modern critick of singular humanity, near St. <i>James</i>’s, that has been -pleased, in some late dissertation upon <i>Phalaris</i>’s epistles, to -maintain that he was a well-shap’d, handsome gentleman; and for a proof -of this, insists much upon <i>Æsop</i>’s intriguing with his fellow-slave, -the beautiful <i>Rhodope</i>. No, no, replies Mr. <i>Nokes</i>, <i>Æsop</i> is just -such a crumpled hump-shoulder’d dog, for all the world, as you see him -before <i>Ogilby</i>’s translation of his fables; and let the above-mentioned -grammarian, I think they call him, Dr. <i>Bentivolio</i>, say what he will to -the contrary, ’tis even so as I tell you. And now, we are upon the -chapter of Dr. <i>Bentivolio</i>; about a month ago I happen’d to make merry -over a bowl of punch with <i>Phalaris</i> the <i>Sicilian</i> tyrant, who swore by -all that was good and sacred, that he would trounce the unmannerly slave -for robbing him of those epistles, which have gone unquestion’d under -his name for so many ages: but the time is coming, said he, when I shall -make this impudent pedant cry <i>peccavi</i> for the unworthy treatment he -has given me: I have my brazen-bull, heaven be prais’d, ready for him, -and as soon as he comes into these quarters, will shut him up in it, and -roast him with his own dull volumes, and those of his dearly beloved -friends the <i>Dutch</i> commentators.</p> - -<p>By this time we were got to the upper end of the room, when, says Mr. -<i>Nokes</i> to me, I will shew you a most surprising sight. You must know -this place, like <i>Noah</i>’s ark, contains beasts of all sorts and sizes; -some have their brains turn’d by politicks, who, except some three or -four that are suffer’d to go abroad with a keeper, are lock’d up in a -large apartment up stairs. These puppies rave eternally about liberty -and property, and the <i>jura populi</i>, and are so damn’d mischievous, that -it is dangerous to venture near them. <i>England</i> sends more of this sort -to <i>Bedlam</i>, than all the countries of <i>Europe</i> besides. Others again -have their intellects fly-blown by love, by the same token that most of -the poor wretches<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_13">{13}</a></span> that are in this doleful predicament come out of -<i>France</i>, <i>Spain</i>, <i>Italy</i>, and such hot climates. Now and then, indeed, -we have a silly apprentice or so, takes a leap from <i>London-Bridge</i> into -the <i>Thames</i>, or decently hangs himself in a garret, in his mistress’s -garters, but these accidents happen but seldom; and besides, since -fornication has made so great a progress among us, love is observed not -to operate so powerfully in <i>England</i> as it formerly did, when there was -no relief against him but matrimony. Some again have their <i>pia mater</i> -addled by their religion, but neither are the sots of this species so -numerous in <i>Britain</i>, or elsewhere, as they were in the days of yore; -for the priests of most religions have play’d their game so aukwardly, -that not one man in a thousand will trust them with shuffling of the -cards.</p> - -<p>But of all the various sorts of mad-men that come hither, the rhimers or -versifyers far exceed the rest in number: most of these fellows in the -other world were mayors, or aldermen, or deputies of wards, that knew -nothing but the rising and falling of stocks, squeezing young heirs, and -cheating their customers: but now the tables are turn’d, for they eat -and drink, nay, sleep and dream in rhime, and have a distich to -discharge at you upon every occasion. With that he open’d the wicket of -the uppermost door, and bid me peep in. ’Tis impossible to describe to -you the surprize I was in, to see so many of my city acquaintance there, -whom I should sooner have suspected of burglary or sacrilege, than of -tacking a pair of rhimes together: but it seems this is a judgment upon -these wretches, for the aversion they have to the muses when they are -living. The walls were lined with verses from top to bottom, and happy -was the wretch that could get a bit of charcoal to express the happiness -of his fancy upon the poor plaister. The first man I saw was Sir <i>John -Peak</i>, formerly lord-mayor of <i>London</i>, who bluntly came up to the door, -and asked me what was rhime to <i>Crambo</i>? Immediately Sir <i>Thomas -Pilkington</i> popp’d over his shoulder, and pray friend, says he, for I -perceive you are newly come from the other world, how go the affairs of -<i>Parnassus</i>? What new madrigals, epithilamiums, sonnets, epigrams, and -satires, have you brought with you? What pretty conceits had Mr. -<i>Settle</i><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_14">{14}</a></span> in his last <i>London</i> triumphs? What plays have taken of late? -Mrs. <i>Bracegirdle</i>, doth she live still unmarried? And pray, Sir, how -doth Mr. <i>Betterton</i>’s lungs hold out? But now I think on’t, I have a -delicious copy of verses to shew you, upon the divine <i>Melesinda</i>’s -frying of pancakes, only stay a minute, while I step yonder to fetch -’em: he had no sooner turn’d his back, but I pluck’d too the wicket, and -gave him the slip; for certainly of all the plagues in hell, or t’other -side of it, nothing comes up to that of a confounded repeater. Leaving -these versifying insects to themselves, we walked up a pair of stairs -into the upper room, one end of which was the quarter for distracted -lovers, as the other was for the lunatick republicans. I just cast my -eyes into <i>Cupid</i>’s <i>Bear-Garden</i>, and observed that the walls were all -adorned with mysterious hieroglyphicks of love, as hearts transfixed, -and abundance of odd-fashion’d battering rams, such as young lovers use -to trace upon the cieling of a coffee-house with the smoke of a candle. -Some half a score of ’em were making to the door, but having seen enough -of these impertinents in the other world, I had no great inclination to -suffer a new persecution from ’em in this. So my friend and I turn’d up -to the apartment where the republicans were lock’d up, who made such a -hurricane and noise, as if a legion of devils had been broke loose among -them. <i>Harrington</i>, I remember, was the most unruly of the whole pack. -Thanks to my friends in <i>London</i>, says he, I hear my <i>Oceana</i> is lately -reprinted, and furbish’d with a new dedication to those judicious and -worthy gentlemen, my lord-mayor and court of aldermen, by Mr. <i>Toland</i>. -You need not value yourself so much upon that, says <i>Algernoon Sidney</i>, -for my works were published there long before yours. And so were mine, -cries <i>Milton</i>, at the expence of some worthy patriots, that were not -afraid to publish them under a monarchical government. But what think -you of my memoirs, cries <i>Ludlow</i>, for if you talk of histories, there’s -a history for you, which, for sincerity and truth, never saw its fellow -since the creation. Upon this the uproar began afresh, so thinking it -high time to withdraw, I jogg’d my friend <i>Nokes</i> by the elbow, and as -we went down stairs told him, that <i>Pluto</i> was certainly in the right -on’t, to lock<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_15">{15}</a></span> up these hot-headed mutineers by themselves, allow them -neither pen, ink, fire, nor candle; for should he give them leave to -propagate their seditious doctrines, he would only find himself king of -<i>Erebus</i>, at the courtesy of his loving subjects.</p> - -<p>Just as we were going out of this famous edifice; I have an odd piece of -news to tell you, says Mr. <i>Nokes</i>, which is, that altho’ we have men of -all countries, more or less here, yet there never was one <i>Irishman</i> in -it. How comes that about, I beseech you? said I to him. Why, replies he, -madness always supposes a loss of reason; but the duce is in’t if a man -can lose that which he never possess’d in his life. Oh your humble -servant, answer’d I, ’tis well none of our swaggering Dear Joys in -<i>Covent-Garden</i> hear you talk so, for if they did, ten to one but they -would cut your throat for this reflection upon the intellects of their -country, and send you to the Devil for the honour of St. <i>Patrick</i>.</p> - -<p>When we came out into the open air again, and had taken half a dozen -turns in the neighbouring fields, Mr. <i>Nokes</i>, says I, ’tis my -misfortune to come in this place without a farthing of money in my -pocket, and <i>Alecto</i> confound me, if I know what course to take for my -maintenance, therefore I would desire you to put me in a way. Have no -care for that, says Mr. <i>Nokes</i>, his infernal majesty is very kind and -obliging to us players, and because we act so many different parts in -the other world, as kings, princes, bishops, privy-counsellors, beaux, -cits, sailors, and the like, gives us leave to fellow what profession we -have most a fancy to. For my part, I keep a nicknackatory, or toy-shop, -as I formerly did over against the <i>Exchange</i>, and turn a sweet penny by -it, for our gallants here throw away their money after a furious rate. -Now <i>Jo.</i> I think thou can’st not do better than to set up for a -<i>High-German</i> fortune-teller; thou knowest all the cant and roguery of -that practice to perfection, and besides, has the best phiz in the world -to carry on such an affair. As for money to furnish thee an house, and -set up a convenient equipage, to buy thee a pair of globes, a magick -looking-glass, and all other accoutrements of that nature, thou shalt -command as much as thou hast occasion for. I was going to thank my -friend<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_16">{16}</a></span> for so courteous an offer, when who should pop upon us on the -sudden, but his <i>Polish</i> majesty’s physician in ordinary, the late -famous Dr. <i>Conner</i> of <i>Bowstreet</i>, but in so wretched a pickle, so -tatter’d a condition, that I could hardly know him. How comes this -about, noble doctor, said I to him, what is fortune unkind, and do the -planets frown upon merit? I remember you were going to set up your -coach, and marry the widow <i>Bently</i> in <i>Russel-street</i>, just before your -last distemper hurry’d you out of the world. Is it possible the learned -author of <i>Evangelium Medici</i> should want bread? or, doctor, did you -leave all your <i>Hibernian</i> confidence behind you! I thought a true -<i>Irishman</i> could have made his fortune in any part of the universe.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Ille nihil, nec me quærentem vana moratur;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Sed graviter gemitus imo de pectore ducens.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Mr. <i>Haines</i>, says he, <i>Pluto</i>, to say no worse of him, is very -ungrateful to the gentlemen of our faculty; and were he not a crown’d -head, I would not stick to call him a <i>Poltroon</i>. I am sure no body of -men cultivate his interest with more industry and success, than we -physicians. What would his dominions be but a bare wilderness and -solitude, if we did not daily take care to stock them with fresh -colonies? This I can say for myself, that I did not let him lose one -patient that fell into my hands; nay, rather than he should want -customers, I practised upon myself. But after the received maxim of most -princes, I find he loves the treason, and hates the traytor; so that no -people are put to harder shifts in hell, than the sons of <i>Galen</i>. Would -you believe it, Mr. <i>Haines</i>, the immortal Dr. <i>Willis</i> is content to be -a flayer of dead horses; the famous <i>Harvey</i> is turn’d higgler, and you -may see him ride every morning to market upon a pannier of eggs; -<i>Mayern</i> is glad to be pimp to noblemen’s <i>valets de chambre</i>; old -<i>Glisson</i> sells vinegar upon a lean scraggy tit; <i>Moreton</i> is return’d -to his occupation, and preaches in a little conventicle you can hardly -swing a cat round in; <i>Lower</i> sells penny prayer-books all the week, and -curls an <i>Amen</i> in a meeting-house on sundays; <i>Needham</i>, in conjunction -with Capt. <i>Dawson</i>, is bully to a <i>Bordello</i>; and the celebrated -<i>Sydenham</i> empties close-stools. As<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_17">{17}</a></span> for myself, I am sometimes a small -retainer to a billiard-table; and sometimes, when the matter on’t is -sick, earn a penny by a whimsy-board. I lie with a link-man upon a -flock-bed in a garret, and have not seen a clean shirt upon my back -since I came into this cursed country. By my troth, said I, I am sorry -to hear matters go so scurvily with you; but pluck up a good heart, for -when the times are at worst they must certainly mend. But, pray doctor, -before you go any farther, satisfy me what church you dy’d a member of, -for we had the devil and all to do about you when you were gone. The -parson of St. <i>Giles</i>’s stood out stifly that you dy’d a sound -Protestant, but all your countrymen swore thou didst troop off like a -good Catholick. Why really <i>Jo.</i> cry’d the doctor, to deal plainly with -you, I don’t know well what religion I dy’d in; but if I dy’d in any, as -physicians you know seldom do, it was, as I take it, that of the Church -of <i>England</i>. I remember, indeed, when I grew light-headed, and the bed, -room, and every thing began to turn round with me, that a -forster-brother of mine, an <i>Irish</i> Priest, offer’d me the civility of -<i>Extreme Unction</i>, and I that knew I had a long journey to go, thought -it would not be amiss to have my boots well liquor’d before-hand, tho’ -ofter all, for any good it did me, he might as well have rubb’d my -posteriors with a brick-bat. This is all I remember of the matter; but -what signifies it to the business we are talking of? In short, <i>Jo.</i> if -thou could’st put me in a way to live, I should be exceedingly beholden -to thee. Doctor, cry’d I, if you will come to me a week hence, something -may be done; for I intend to build me a stage in one of the largest -<i>Piazzas</i> of this city, take me a fine house, and set up my old trade of -fortune-telling; and as I shall have occasion now and then for some -understrapper to draw teeth for me, or to be my toad-eater upon the -stage, if you will accept of so mean an employment, besides my old -cloaths, which will be something, I’ll give you meat, drink, washing, -and lodging, and four marks <i>per annum</i>.</p> - -<p>I am sensible, gentlemen, that I have tried your patience with a long -tedious letter, but not knowing when I should find so convenient an -opportunity to send another, I resolved to give you a full account in -this, of all<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_18">{18}</a></span> the memorable things that fell within the compass of my -observation, during my short residence in this country. At present, -thanks to my kind stars, I live very comfortably; I keep my brace of -geldings, and half a dozen servants; my house is as well furnish’d as -most in this populous city; and to tell you what prodigious number of -persons of all ages, sexes and conditions flock daily to me, to have -their fortunes told, ’twould hardly find belief with you. If the -celestial phenomena’s deceive me not, and there is any truth in the -conjunction of <i>Mercury</i> and <i>Luna</i>, I shall in a short time rout all -the pretenders to <i>Astrology</i>, who combine to ruin my reputation and -practice, but without effect; for this opposition has rather increased -my friends at court than lessen’d them. I am promised to be <i>maître des -langues</i>, to the young prince of Acheron, (so we call the heir apparent -to these subterranean dominions) and <i>Proserpine’s camariera major</i> -assured me t’other morning, I should have the honour of teaching the -beautiful princess <i>Fuscamarilla</i>, his sister, to dance. Once more, -gentlemen, I beg your excuse for this prolix epistle, and hoping you -will order one of your fraternity to send me the news of your upper -world, I remain,</p> - -<p class="c"> -<i>Your most obliged,<br /><br /> -and most obedient Servant</i>,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Jo. Haines</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="hang"> -Dec. 21.<br /> -1701.<br /> -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang"><i>An Answer to Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Joseph Haines</span>, High-German <i>Astrologer, at the -sign of the</i> Urinal <i>and</i> Cassiopea’s Chair, <i>in</i> Brandinopolis, -<i>upon</i> Phlegethon. <i>By Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Brown</span>.</p></div> - -<p> -<i>Worthy Sir</i>,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">W</span>E received your letter, dated <i>Dec. 21. 1701.</i> and read it yesterday in -a full assembly at <i>Will</i>’s. The whole company lik’d it exceedingly, and -return you their thanks for the ample and satisfactory account you have -given them of <i>Pluto</i>’s dominions, from which we have<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_19">{19}</a></span> had little or no -news, however it has happened, since the famous <i>Don Quevedo</i> had the -curiosity to travel thither.</p> - -<p>Whereas you desire us, by way of exchange, to furnish you with some of -the most memorable transactions that have lately fallen out in this part -of the globe; we willingly comply with your proposal, and are proud of -any opportunity to shew Mr. <i>Haines</i> how much we respect and value him.</p> - -<p><i>Imprimis</i>, <i>Will</i>’s coffee-house, Mr. <i>Haines</i>, is much in the same -condition, as when you left it; and as a worthy gentleman has lately -distributed them into their proper classes, we have four sorts of -persons that resort hither; first, Such as are beaux and no wits, and -these are easy to be known by their full periwigs and empty sculls; -secondly, Such as are wits and no beaux, and these, not to talk of their -out-sides, are distinguish’d by censuring the ill taste of the age, and -railing at one another; thirdly, Such as are neither wits nor beaux, I -mean your grave plodding politicians that come to us every night piping -hot from the parliament-house, and finish treaties that were never -thought of, and end wars before they are begun; and fourthly, Such as -are both wits and beaux, to whose persons, as well as merits, you can be -no stranger.</p> - -<p>In the next place, the Playhouse stands exactly where it did. Mr. <i>Rich</i> -finds some trouble in managing his mutinous subjects, but ’tis no more -than what princes must expect to find in a mixt monarchy, as we take the -Playhouse to be. The actors jog on after the old merry rate, and the -women drink and intrigue. Mr. <i>Clinch</i> of <i>Barnet</i>, with his pack of -dogs and organ, comes now and then to their relief; and your friend Mr. -<i>Jevon</i> would hang himself, to see how much the famous Mr. <i>Harvey</i> -exceeds him in the ladder-dance.</p> - -<p>We have had an inundation of plays lately, and one of them, by a great -miracle, made shift to hold out a full fortnight. The generality are -either troubled with convulsion-fits, and die the first day of the -representation, or by meer dint of acting, hold out to the third; which -is like a consumptive man’s living by cordials, or else die a violent -death, and are interr’d with the solemnity of catcalls. A merry -virtuoso, who makes one of the congregation <i>de propagando ingenio</i>, -designs to publish a weekly<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_20">{20}</a></span> bill for the use of the two theatres, in -imitation of that published by the parish clerks, and faithfully to set -down what distemper every new play dies of.</p> - -<p>If the author of a play strains hard for wit, and it drivels drop by -drop from him, he says it is troubled with a strangury. If it is vicious -in the design and performance, and dull throughout, he intends to give -it out in his bill, that it died by a knock in the cradle; if it -miscarries for want of fine scenes, and due acting, why then he says, -’tis starv’d at nurse; if it expires the first or second day he reckons -it among the abortive; and lastly, if it is damn’d for the feebleness of -its satire, he says it dies in breeding of teeth.</p> - -<p>As our <i>wit</i>, generally speaking is debauch’d, so our wine, the parent -of it, is sophisticated all over the <i>town</i>; and as we never had more -<i>plays</i> in the <i>two houses</i>, and more wine in city than at present, so -we were never encumber’d with worse of the two sorts than now. As for -the latter, we sell that for claret which has not a drop of the juice of -the grape in it, but is downright cyder. The corporation does not stop -short here, but our cyder, instead of apples, is made of turnips. Who -knows where the cheat will conclude? perhaps the next generation will -debauch our very turnips.</p> - -<p>’Tis well, Mr. <i>Haines</i>, you dy’d when you did, for that unhappy place, -where you have so often exerted your talent, I mean <i>Smithfield</i>, has -fallen under the city magistrate’s displeasure; so that now St. <i>George</i> -and the <i>Dragon</i>, the <i>Trojan</i> horse, and <i>Bateman</i>’s ghost, the -<i>Prodigal Son</i>, and <i>Jeptha</i>’s <i>Daughter</i>: In short, all the drolls of -glorious memory, are routed, defeated, and sent to grass, without any -hopes of a reprieve.</p> - -<p>Next to <i>plays</i>, we have been over-run, in these times of publick -ferment and distraction, with certain wicked things, called <i>pamphlets</i>; -and some scriblers that shall be nameless, have writ <i>pro</i> and <i>con</i> -upon the same subject, at least six times since last spring.</p> - -<p>Both nations are at <i>bay</i>, and like two <i>bull-dogs</i> snarl at one -another, yet have not thought fit, as yet, to come to actual blows. What -the event will be, we cannot prophesy at this distance, but every little -corporation in the kingdom has laid <i>Lewis le Grand</i> upon his back, and -as<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_21">{21}</a></span> good as call’d him perjur’d knave and villain. However, ’tis the -hardest case in the world if we miscarry; our <i>Grub-street</i> pamphleteers -advise the shires and boroughs what sort of members to chuse; the shires -and boroughs advise their representatives what course to steer in -parliament; and the senators, no doubt on’t, will advise his majesty -what ministers to rely on, and how to behave himself in this present -conjuncture. Thus, advice, you see, like malt-tickets, circulates -plentifully about the kingdom; so that if we fail in our designs, after -all, the wicked can never say, ’twas for want of advice. We forgot to -tell you, Mr. <i>Haines</i>, that since you left this upper world, your life -has been written by a brother-player, who pretends he received all his -<i>memoirs</i> from your own mouth, a little before you made a leap into the -dark; and really you are beholden to the fellow, for he makes you a -master of arts at the university, tho’ you never took a degree there. -That, and a thousand stories of other people he has father’d upon you, -and the truth on’t is, the adventures of thy life, if truly set down, -are so romantick, that few besides thy acquaintance would be able to -distinguish between the history and the fable. But let not this disturb -the serenity of your soul, Mr. <i>Haines</i>, for after this rate the lives -of all illustrious persons, whether ancient or modern, have been -written. This, Mr. <i>Haines</i>, is all we have to communicate to you at -present, so we conclude, with subscribing ourselves,</p> - -<p class="c"> -<i>Your most humble Servants</i>,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -Sebastian Freeman,<br /> -<i>Registrarius, Nomine Societatis</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p> -<i>From</i> Will<i>’s in</i><br /> -Covent-Garden,<br /> -Jan. 10. 1701.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="Scarron_to_Lewis_le_Grand_By_Mr_Brown"></a><span class="smcap">Scarron</span> <i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Lewis</span> <i>le</i> <span class="smcap">Grand</span>. <i>By Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Brown</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">A</span>LL the conversation of this lower world, at present, runs upon you; and -the devil a word we can hear in any of our coffee-houses, but what his -<i>Gallic</i> Majesty is more or less concern’d in. ’Tis agreed on by all -our<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_22">{22}</a></span> <i>Virtuosos</i>, that since the days of <i>Dioclesian</i>, no prince has -been so great a benefactor to hell as your self; and as much a matter of -eloquence as I was once thought to be at <i>Paris</i>, I want words to tell -you, how much you are commended here for so heroically trampling under -foot the treaty of <i>Reswick</i>, and opening a new scene of war in your -great <i>climateric</i>, at which age most of the princes before you were -such recreants, as to think of making up their scores with heaven, and -leaving their neighbours in peace. But you, they say, are above such -sordid precedents, and rather than <i>Pluto</i> should want men to people his -dominions, are willing to spare him half a million of your own subjects, -and that at a juncture too, when you are not overstock’d with them.</p> - -<p>This has gain’d you an universal applause in these regions; the three -<i>Furies</i> sing your praises in every street; <i>Bellona</i> swears there’s -never a prince in <i>Christendom</i> worth hanging besides your self; and -<i>Charon</i> bustles for you in all companies: he desir’d me, about a week -ago, to present his most humble respects to you; adding, that if it had -not been for your majesty, he, with his wife and children, must long ago -been quarter’d upon the parish; for which reason he duly drinks your -health every morning in a cup of cold <i>Styx</i> next his conscience.</p> - -<p>Indeed I have a double title to write to you, in the first place, as one -of your dutiful, tho’ unworthy, subjects, who formerly tasted of your -liberality; and secondly, as you have done me the honour to take away my -late wife, not only into your private embraces, but private councils. -Poor soul! I little thought she would fall to your majesty’s share when -I took my last farwel of her, or that a prince that had his choice of so -many thousands, would accept of my sorry leavings. And therefore, I must -confess, I am apt to be a little vain, as often as I reflect, that the -greatest monarch in the universe and I are brother-stallions, and that -the eldest son of the church, and the little <i>Scarron</i> have fish’d in -the same hole. Some sawcy fellows have had the impudence to tell me to -my face, that Madam <i>Maintenon</i> (for so, out of respect to your majesty, -I must call her) is your lawful wife, and that you were clandestinely -marry’d to her. I took them up roundly, as they deserv’d, and told them, -I was sure it was a dam<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_23">{23}</a></span>n’d lie; for, said I to them, if my master was -marry’d to her, as you pretend, she had broke his heart long ago, as -well as she did mine; from whence I positively concluded, that she might -be your mistress, but was none of your wife.</p> - -<p>Last week, as I was sitting with some of my acquaintance in a -publick-house, after a great deal of impertinent chat about the affairs -of the <i>Milanese</i>, and the intended siege of <i>Mantua</i>, the whole company -fell a talking of your majesty, and what glorious exploits you had -perform’d in your time. Why, gentlemen, says an ill-look’d rascal, who -prov’d to be <i>Herostratus</i>, for <i>Pluto</i>’s sake let not the grand monarch -run away with all your praises. I have done something memorable in my -time too; ’twas I, who out of the <i>Gaiete de Cœur</i>, and to perpetuate my -name, fir’d the famous temple of the <i>Ephesian Diana</i>, and in two hours -consumed that magnificent structure which was two hundred years a -building: therefore, gentlemen, lavish not away all your praises, I -beseech you, upon one man, but allow others their share. Why, thou -diminutive inconsiderable wretch said I, in a great passion to him, thou -worthless idle <i>logger head</i>, thou <i>pigmy</i> in sin, thou <i>Tom Thumb</i> in -iniquity, how dares such a puny insect as thou art, have the impudence -to enter the lists with <i>Lewis le Grand</i>? thou valuest thy self upon -firing a church, but how? when the mistress of the house, who was a -midwife by profession, was gone out to assist <i>Olympias</i>, and deliver’d -her of <i>Alexander</i> the Great. ’Tis plain, thou hadst not the courage to -do it when the goddess was present, and upon the spot; but what is this -to what my royal master can boast of, that had destroyed a hundred and a -hundred such foolish fabricks in his time, and bravely ordered them to -be bombarded, when he knew the very God that made and redeemed him had -taken up his <i>Quarters</i> in ’em. Therefore turn out of the room, like a -paltry insignificant villain as thou art, or I’ll pick thy carcass for -thee.</p> - -<p>He had no sooner made his <i>exit</i>, but cries an odd sort of a spark, with -his hat button’d up before, like a country scraper, under favour, Sir, -what do you think of me? Why, who are you? reply’d I to him, Who am I, -answer’d he, Why <i>Nero</i>, the sixth emperor of <i>Rome</i>, that murder’d -my—— Come, said I to him, to stop your prating, I know your history as -well as yourself, that<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_24">{24}</a></span> murder’d your mother, kick’d your wife down -stairs, dispatch’d two Apostles out of the world, begun the first -persecution against the christians, and, lastly, put your master -<i>Seneca</i> to death. As for the murder of your mother, I confess it shew’d -you had some taste of wickedness, and may pass for a tolerable piece of -gallantry; but prithee, what a mighty matter was it to send your wife -packing with a good kick in the guts, when once she grew nauseous and -sawcy; ’tis no more than what a thousand tinkers and foot-soldiers have -done before you: or to put the penal laws in execution against a brace -of hot-headed bigots, and their besotted followers, that must needs come -and preach up a new religion at <i>Rome</i>: or, in fine, to take away a -haughty, ungrateful pedant’s life, who conspir’d to take away your’s; -altho’ I know those worthy gentlemen, the school-masters, make a horrid -rout about it in their nonsensical declamations? Whereas his most -<i>Christian Majesty</i>, whose advocate I am resolved to be against all -opposers whatever, has bravely and generously starv’d a million of poor -<i>Hugonots</i> at home, and sent t’other million of them a grasing into -foreign countries, contrary to solemn edicts, and repeated promises, for -no other provocation, that I know of, but because they were such -coxcombs, as to place him upon the throne. In short, friend <i>Nero</i>, thou -may’st pass for a rogue of the third or fourth class; but be advised by -a stranger, and never shew thyself such a fool as to dispute the -pre-eminence with <i>Lewis le Grand</i>, who has murder’d more men in his -reign, let me tell thee, than thou hast murder’d tunes, for all thou art -the vilest thrummer upon cat-gut the sun ever beheld. However, to give -the Devil his due, I will say it before thy face, and behind thy back, -that if thou had’st reign’d as many years as my gracious master has -done, and had’st had, instead of <i>Tigellinus</i>, a <i>Jesuit</i> or two to have -govern’d thy conscience, thou mightest, in all probability, have made a -much more magnificent figure, and been inferior to none but the mighty -monarch I have been talking of.</p> - -<p>Having put my <i>Roman</i> emperor to silence, I look’d about me, and saw a -pack of grammarians (for so I guessed them to be by their impertinence -and noise) disputing it very fiercely at the next table; the matter in -de<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_25">{25}</a></span>bate was, which was the most heroical age; and one of them, who -valu’d himself very much upon his reading, maintain’d, that the heroical -age, properly so call’d, began with the <i>Theban</i>, and ended with the -<i>Trojan</i> war, in which compass of time, that glorious constellation of -heroes, <i>Hercules</i>, <i>Jason</i>, <i>Theseus</i>, <i>Tidæus</i>, with <i>Agamemnon</i>, -<i>Ajax</i>, <i>Achilles</i>, <i>Hector</i>, <i>Troilus</i>, and <i>Diomedes</i> flourished: men -that had all signaliz’d themselves by their personal gallantry, and -valour. His next neighbour argued very fiercely for the age wherein -<i>Alexander</i> founded the <i>Grecian</i> monarchy, and saw so many noble -generals and commanders about him. The third was as obstreperous for -that of <i>Julius Cæsar</i>, and manag’d his argument with so much heat, that -I expected every minute when these puppies wou’d have gone to -loggerheads in good earnest. To put an end to your controversy, -gentlemen, says I to them, you may talk till your lungs are founder’d, -but this I positively assert, that the present age we live in is the -most heroical age, and that my master, <i>Lewis le Grand</i> is the greatest -hero of it. Hark you me, Sir, how do you make that appear, cry’d the -whole pack of them, opening upon me all at once: by your leave, -gentlemen, answer’d I, two to one is odds at foot-ball; but having a -hero’s cause to defend, I find myself possess’d with a hero’s vigour and -resolution, and don’t doubt but I shall bring you over to my party. That -age therefore is the most heroical which is the boldest and bravest; the -antients, I grant you, whor’d and got drunk, and cut throats as well as -we do; but, gentlemen, they did not sin upon the same foot as we, nor -had so many wicked discouragements to deter them; we whore when we know -’tis ten to one but we get a clap for our pains; whereas our -fore-fathers, before the siege of <i>Naples</i>, had no such blessing to -apprehend; we drink and murther one another in cold blood, at the same -time we believe that we must be rewarded with damnation; but your old -hero’s had no notion at all, or at least an imperfect one of a future -state: so ’tis a plain case, you see, that the heroism lies on our side. -To apply this then to my royal master; he has fill’d all Christendom -with blood and confusion; he has broke thro’ the most solemn treaties -sworn at the altar; he has stray’d and undone infinite<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_26">{26}</a></span> numbers of poor -wretches; and all this for his own glory and ambition, when he’s assured -that hell gapes every moment for him: now tell me, whether your -<i>Jasons</i>, your <i>Agamemnons</i>, or <i>Alexanders</i>, durst have ventur’d so -heroically; or whether your pitiful emperors of <i>Germany</i>, your -mechanick kings of <i>England</i> and <i>Sweden</i>, or your lousy States of -<i>Holland</i>, have courage enough to write after so illustrous a copy.</p> - -<p>Thus, Sir, you may see with what zeal I appear in your majesty’s behalf, -and that I omit no opportunity of magnifying your great exploits to the -utmost of my poor abilities. At the same time I must freely own to you, -that I have met with some rough-hewn sawcy rascals, that have stopp’d me -in my full career, when I have been expatiating upon your praises, and -have so dumbfounded me with their villainous objections, that I could -not tell how to reply to them.</p> - -<p>Some few days ago it was my fortune to affirm, in a full assembly, that -since the days of <i>Charlemagne</i>, <i>France</i> was never bless’d with so -renown’d, so victorious, and so puissant a prince as your majesty. You -lame, gouty coxcomb, says a sawcy butter-box of a <i>Dutchman</i> to me, -don’t give yourself these airs in our company; <i>Lewis</i>, the greatest -prince that <i>France</i> ever had! Why, I tell thee, he has no more title to -that crown, than I have to the <i>Great Mogul</i>’s; and <i>Lewis</i> the -thirteenth was no more his father than the Pope of <i>Rome</i> is thine. I -bless’d myself to hear the fellow deliver this with so serious a mien, -when a countryman of his taking up the cudgels; ’Tis true, says he, your -mighty monarch has no right to the throne he possesses; the late king -had no hand in the begetting of him, but a lusty proper young fellow, -one <i>le Grand</i> by name, and an Apothecary by profession, was employ’d by -cardinal <i>Mazarine</i>, who had prepar’d the queen’s conscience for the -taking of such a dose, to strike an heir for <i>France</i> out of her -majesty’s body; by the same token that this scarlet agent of hell, got -him fairly poison’d as soon as he had done the work, for fear of telling -tales. If you ever read <i>Virgil</i>’s life written by <i>Donatus</i>, cries a -third to me, you’ll find that <i>Augustus</i> having rewarded that famous -poet for some little services done him, with a parcel of loaves, had the -curiosity once to en<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_27">{27}</a></span>quire of him who he thought was his father? to -which question of the emperor, <i>Virgil</i> fairly answer’d, that he -believ’d him to be a Baker’s son, because he still paid him in a Baker’s -manufacture, <i>viz.</i> bread. And thus, were there no other proofs to -confirm it, yet any one would swear that <i>Lewis le Grand</i> is an -Apothecary’s son, because he has acted all his life-time the part of an -Apothecary.</p> - -<p><i>Imprimis</i>, He has given so many strong purges to his own kingdom, that -he has empty’d it of half its people and money. <i>Item</i>, He apply’d -costives to <i>Genoa</i> and <i>Brussels</i>, when he bombarded both those cities. -<i>Item</i>, He gave a damn’d clyster to the <i>Hollanders</i> with a witness, -when he fell upon the rear of their provinces, in the year 72. <i>Item</i>, -He lull’d king <i>Charles</i> the second asleep with female opiates. <i>Item</i>, -He forced Pope <i>Innocent</i> the eleventh, to swallow the unpalatable -draught of the <i>Franchises</i>. <i>Item</i>, He administrated a restorative -cordial to <i>Mahumetanisme</i>, when he enter’d into an alliance with the -<i>Grand Turk</i> against the emperor. <i>Item</i>, He would have bubbled the -prince of <i>Orange</i> with the gilded pill of sovereignty, but his little -cousin was wiser than to take it. And lastly, If he had restor’d king -<i>James</i> to his crown again, he would have brought the people of -<i>England</i> a most conscientious Apothecary’s bill for his waiting and -attending. In short, shake this mighty monarch in a bag, turn him this -way, and that way, and t’other way, <i>sursum, deorsum, quaquaversum</i>, -I’ll engage you’ll find him nothing but a meer Apothecary; and I hope -the emperor and king of <i>England</i> will play the Apothecary too in their -turn, and make him vomit up all those provinces and kingdoms he has so -unrighteously usurp’d. Prince <i>Eugene</i> of <i>Savoy</i> has work’d him pretty -well this last summer, and ’tis an infallible prognostic, that he’s -reduced to the last extremities, when his spiritual physicians apply -pigeons to the soles of his feet; I mean prayers and masses, and advise -him to reconcile himself to that Heaven he has so often affronted with -his most execrable perjuries.</p> - -<p>’Tis impossible for me to tell your majesty, what a surprize I was in to -hear this graceless <i>Netherlander</i> blaspheme your glorious name after -this insufferable rate.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_28">{28}</a></span> But to see how one persecution treads upon the -heels of another! I was hardly recover’d out of my astonishment, when a -son of a whore of a <i>German</i>, advancing towards me, was pleas’d to -explain himself as follows:</p> - -<p>You keep a pother and noise here about your mighty monarch, says he to -me, but what has this mighty monarch, and be damn’d to you, done to -merit any body’s good word? I say, what one generous noble exploit has -he been guilty of in his whole reign, as long as it is, to deserve so -much incense and flattery, so many statues and triumphal arches, which a -pack of mercenary, nauseous, fulsome slaves have bestow’d upon him? For -my part, continues he, when I first heard his historians and poets, his -priests and courtiers, talk such wonderful things of him, I fancy’d that -another <i>Cyrus</i> or <i>Alexander</i> had appeared upon the stage; but when I -observed him more narrowly, and by a truer light, I found this immortal -man, as his inscriptions vainly stile him, to be a little, tricking, -pilfering <i>Fripon</i>, that watch’d the critical minute of stealing towns, -as nicely as your rogues of an inferior sphere do that of nimming -cloaks; and tho’ he had the fairest opportunity of erecting a new -western monarchy that ever any prince cou’d boast of, since the -declension of the <i>Roman</i> empire; yet to his eternal disgrace be it -said, no man could have made a worse use of all those wonderful -advantages, that fortune, and the stupid security of his neighbours -conspir’d to put into his hands. To convince you of the truth of this, -let us only consider what posture the affairs of <i>France</i> were in at his -accession to that crown, and several years after, as likewise how all -the neighbouring princes and states about him stood affected: to begin -then with the former, he found himself master of the best disciplin’d -troops in the universe, commanded by the most experienced generals that -any one age had produc’d, and spirited by a long train of victories, -over a careless, desponding, lazy enemy. All the great men of his -kingdom so depressed and humbled by the fortunate artifices of -<i>Richlieu</i> and <i>Mazarine</i>, that they were not capable of giving him any -uneasiness at home, the sole power of raising money entirely in his own -hands, and his parliaments so far from giving a check to his daily -encroachments upon their li<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_29">{29}</a></span>berties, that they were made the most -effectual instruments of his tyranny: In short, his clergy as much -devoted, and the whole body of his people as subservient to him as a -prince cou’d wish. As far his neighbours, he who was best able of any to -put a stop to his growing greatness, I mean the king of <i>England</i>, -either favour’d his designs clandestinely, or was so enervated by his -pleasure, that provided he cou’d enjoy an inglorious effeminacy at home, -he seem’d not to lay much to heart what became of the rest of -Christendom.</p> - -<p>The emperor was composing anthems for his chapel at <i>Vienna</i>, when he -shou’d have appeared at the head of his troops on the <i>Rhine</i>. The -princes of <i>Germany</i> were either divided from the common interest by the -underhand management of <i>France</i>, or not at all concerned at the -impending storm that threatned them. The <i>Hollanders</i> within an ace of -losing their liberty by the preposterous care they took to secure it; I -mean, by diverting that family of all power in their government, which, -as it had formerly erected their republick, so now was the only one that -cou’d help to protect it.</p> - -<p>The little states and principalities of <i>Italy</i>, looking on at a -distance, and not daring to declare themselves in so critical a -conjuncture, when the two keys of their country, <i>Pignerol</i> and <i>Casal</i> -hung at the girdle of <i>France</i>. In short, the dispeopl’d monarchy of -<i>Spain</i>, governed by a soft unactive prince, equally unfit for the -cabinet and the field; his counsellors, who manag’d all under him, -taking no care to lay up magazines, and put their towns in a posture of -defence, but wholly relying as for that, upon their neighbours; like -some inconsiderate spend-thrift thrown into a jail by his creditors, -that smoakes and drinks, and talks merrily all the while, but never -advances one step to make his circumstances easy to him, leaving the -burthen of that affair to his friends and relations, whom perhaps he -never obliged so far in his prosperity, as to deserve it from their -hands.</p> - -<p>Here now, says he, was the fairest opportunity that ever presented -itself for a prince of gallantry and resolution, for a <i>Tamerlane</i> and a -<i>Scanderbeg</i>, to have done something eminently signal in his generation; -and if in the last century, a little king of <i>Sweden</i>, with a handful<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_30">{30}</a></span> -of men, cou’d force his way from the <i>Baltick</i> to the <i>Rhine</i>, and fill -all <i>Germany</i> with terror and consternation, what might we not have -expected from a powerful king of <i>France</i>, in the flower of his youth, -and at the head of two hundred thousand effective men, especially when -there was no visible power to oppose him? But this wonderful monarch of -yours, instead of carrying his arms beyond the <i>Danube</i>, and performing -any one action worthy for his historians to record in the annals of his -reign, has humbly contented himself, now and then, in the beginning of -the year, when he knew his neighbours were unprepared for such a visit, -to invest some little market-town in <i>Flanders</i>, with his invincible -troops; and when a parcel of silly implicit fools had done the business -for him; then, forsooth, he must appear at the head of his court harlots -and minstrels, and make a magnificent entry thro’ the breach: And after -this ridiculous piece of pageantry is over, return back again to -<i>Versailles</i>, with the fame equipage, order’d new medals, operas, and -sonnets to be made upon the occasion; and what ought by no means to be -omitted, our most trusty and well-beloved counsellor and cousin, the -archbishop of <i>Paris</i>, must immediately have a letter sent him, to -repair forthwith, at the head of his ecclesiastick myrmidons, to <i>Nôtre -Dame</i>, and there to thank God for the success of an infamous robbery, -which an honest moral pagan would have blush’d at. So that when the next -fit of his <i>fistula in ano</i> shall send this immortal town-stealer, this -divine village-lifter, this heroic pilferer of poor hamlets and their -dependancies, down to these subterranean dominions, don’t imagine that -he’ll be allowed to keep company with the <i>Pharamonds</i> and -<i>Charlemagnes</i> of <i>France</i>, the <i>Edwards</i> and <i>Henries</i> of <i>England</i>, -the <i>Williams</i> of the <i>Nassovian</i> family, or the <i>Alexanders</i> and -<i>Cæsars</i> of <i>Greece</i> and <i>Rome</i>. No, shou’d he have the impudence to -shew his head among that illustrious assembly, they wou’d soon order -their footmen to drub him into better manners: Neither, cries a surly -<i>Englishman</i>, clapping his sides, and interrupting him, must he expect -the favour to appear even among our holyday heroes, and custard stormers -of <i>Cheapside</i>, those merry burlesques of the art military in -<i>Finsbury-fields</i>, who, poor creatures! never meant the destruction of -any mortal thing, but transitory roast-beaf and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_31">{31}</a></span> capon: no, friend, says -he, <i>Lewis le Grand</i> must expect to take up his habitation in the most -infamous quarter of <i>Hell</i>, among a parcel of house-breakers and -shop-lifters, rogues burnt in the cheek for petty-larceny and burglary, -brethren of the moon, gentlemen of the horn-thumb, pillagers of the -hedges and henroosts, conveyers of silver spoons, and camblet cloaks, -and such like enterprising heroes, whose famous actions are faithfully -register’d in our sessions-papers and dying-speeches, transmitted to -posterity by the Ordinary of <i>Newgate</i>; a much more impartial historian -than your <i>Pelissons</i> and <i>Boileaus</i>. However, as I was inform’d last -week by an understrapper at court; <i>Pluto</i>, in consideration of the -singular services your royal master has done him, will allow him a brace -of fiddlers to scrape and sing to him wherever he goes, since he takes -such a delight to hear his own praises.</p> - -<p>I must confess, says another leering rogue, a countryman of his, that -since the grand monarch we have been speaking of, who has all along done -more by his bribing and tricking, than by the conduct of his generals, -or the bravery of his troops, who has plaid at fast and loose with his -neighbours ever since he came to the crown, who has surprised abundance -of towns in his time, and at the next treaty been forced to spue up -those very places he ordered <i>Te Deum</i> to be sung for a few months -before. I must confess, says he, that since in conjunction with a damn’d -mercenary priest, he has forg’d a will for his brother-in-law of -<i>Spain</i>, and plac’d his grandson upon that throne, I should think the -rest of Christendom in a very bad condition indeed, if he should be -suffered to go on quietly with his show a few years more: Then for all I -know, he might bid fair to set up a new empire in the west, which he has -been aiming at so long: But if the last advice from the other world -don’t deceive us: If the parliament of <i>England</i> goes on as unanimously -as they have begun, to support their prince in so pious and necessary a -war; in short, if the emperor, the <i>Dutch</i>, and the other allies, act -with that vigour and resolution as it becomes them upon this pressing -occasion, I make no question to see this mighty hero plunder’d like the -jay in the fable, of all the fine plumes he has borrow’d, and reduc’d to -so low an ebb, that he shall not find it in his power, tho’ he has never -so<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_32">{32}</a></span> much in his will, to disturb the peace of the christian world any -more. And this, continues he, is as favourable an opportunity as we -could desire, to strip him of all his usurpations; for heaven be -praised, <i>Spain</i> at present is a burthen to him, and by grasping at too -much, he’s in a fair way to lose every farthing. Besides, this late -forgery of the will has pluck’d off his old mask, and shews that ’tis an -universal monarchy he intends, and not the repose of <i>Europe</i>, which has -been so fortunate a sham to him in all his other treaties; so that the -devil’s in the allies now, if they don’t see thro’ those thin pretences -he so often bubbled them with formerly; or lay down their arms, till -they have made this <i>French</i> bustard, who is all feathers, and no -substance, as bare and naked as a skeleton; and effectually spoil his -new trade of making wills for other people. And this they may easily -bring about, continues he, if they lay hold on the present opportunity, -for as I observed to you before, he has taken more business upon his -hands than he’ll ever be able to manage, and by grasping at too much, is -in the direct road to lose all. For my part, I never think of him, but -he puts me in mind of a silly foolish fellow I knew once in <i>London</i>, -who was a common knife-grinder about the streets, and having in this -humble occupation gathered a few straggling pence, must needs take a -great house in <i>Fleetstreet</i>, and set up for a sword-cutler; but before -quarter-day came, finding the rent too bulky for him, he very fairly -rubb’d off with all his effects, and left his landlord the key under the -door. Without pretending to the spirit of <i>Nostradamus</i>, or <i>Lilly</i>, -this I foresee, will be the fate of <i>Lewis le Grand</i>; therefore when you -write next to your glorious monarch, pray give my respects to him, and -bid him remember the sad destiny of the poor knife-grinder of <i>London</i>.</p> - -<p>Thus you see, Sir, how I am daily plagu’d and harrass’d by a parcel of -brawny impudent rascals, and all for espousing your quarrel, and crying -up the justice of your arms. For <i>Pluto</i>’s sake let me conjure your -majesty to lay your commands upon <i>Boileau</i>, <i>Racine</i>, or any of your -panegyrists, to instruct me how I may stop the mouths of these -impertinent babblers for the future, who make Hell ten times more -insupportable than otherwise it would be, and threaten to toss me in a -blanket the next time I come<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_33">{33}</a></span> unprovided for your defence into their -company. In the mean time, humbly desiring your majesty to present my -love to the <i>quondam</i> wife of my bosom, I mean the virtuous madam -<i>Maintenon</i>, who, in conjunction with your most christian majesty, now -governs all <i>France</i>; and put her in mind of sending me a dozen of new -shirts by the next pacquet, I remain,</p> - -<p class="c"> -<i>Your Majesty’s<br /><br /> -most obedient, and most obliged<br /><br /> -Subject and Servant</i>,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Scarron</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="Hannibal_to_the_Victorious_Prince_Eugene_of_Savoy_By_Mr_Brown"></a><span class="smcap">Hannibal</span> <i>to the Victorious Prince</i> <span class="smcap">Eugene</span> <i>of</i> <span class="smcap">Savoy</span>. <i>By Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Brown</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">’T</span>WAS with infinite satisfaction that I receiv’d the news of the happy -success of your arms in <i>Italy</i>. My worthy friend <i>Scipio</i>, (for so I -may justly call him, since we have dropp’d our old animosities, and now -live amicably together) is eternally talking of your conduct and -bravery; nay, <i>Alexander the Great</i>, who can hardly bear any competitor -in the point of glory, has freely confessed, that your gallantry in -passing the <i>Po</i> and <i>Adige</i>, in the face of so powerful an enemy, falls -not short of what he himself formerly shew’d upon the banks of the -<i>Granicus</i>. For my part, I have a thousand obligations to you. My march -over the <i>Alpes</i>, upon which I may deservedly value myself, was look’d -upon here to be fabulous, till your late expedition over those rugged -mountains confirm’d the belief of it. Thus neither hills nor rivers can -stop the progress of your victories, and ’tis you who have found out the -lucky secret, how to baffle the circumspect gravity of the <i>Spaniards</i>, -and repress the furious impetuosity of the <i>French</i>. His <i>Gallic</i> -majesty, who minds keeping his word as little, as that mercenary -republick of tradesmen whom it was my misfortune to serve, will find to -his cost, that all the laurels he has been so long, a plun<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_34">{34}</a></span>dering, will -at last fall to your excellency’s share; and that he has been labouring -forty years together to no other purpose, than to enrich you with the -spoils of his former triumphs. Go on, therefore, in the glorious track -as you have begun, and be assured, that the good wishes of all the great -and illustrious persons now resident in this lower world attend you in -all your enterprizes. As nothing can be a greater pleasure to virtuous -men, than to see villains rewarded according to their deserts; so true -heroes never rejoice more than when they see a sham-conqueror, and vain -glorious bully, such as <i>Lewis</i> XIV. plunder’d of all his unjust -acquisitions, and reduced to his primitive state of nothing. Were there -a free communication between our territories and yours, <i>Cyrus</i>, -<i>Miltiades</i>, <i>Cæsar</i>, and a thousand other generals, would be proud to -offer you their service the next campaign; but ’tis your happiness that -you want not their assistance; your own personal bravery, join’d to that -of your troops, and the justice of your cause, being sufficient to carry -you thro’ all your undertakings.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Farewel.</i><br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="Pindar_of_Thebes_to_Tom_Durfey_By_Mr_Brown"></a><span class="smcap">Pindar</span> <i>of</i> Thebes <i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Tom. Durfey</span>. <i>By Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Brown</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">H</span>OWEVER it happen’d so, I can’t tell, but I could never get a sight of -thy famous <i>Pindaric</i> upon the late queen <i>Mary</i>, ’till about a month -ago. Most of the company would needs have me declare open war against -thee that very minute, for prophaning my name with such execrable -doggrel. <i>Stensichorus</i> rail’d at thee worse than the man of the -<i>Horseshoe-Tavern</i> in <i>Drury-lane</i>; <i>Alcæus</i>, I believe, will hardly be -his own man again this fortnight, so much concerned he is to find thee -crowding thy self upon the <i>Lyric</i> poets; nay, <i>Sappho</i> the patient, -laid about her like a fury, and call’d thee a thousand pimping -stuttering ballad-fingers. As for me, far from taking any thing amiss at -my hands, I am mightily pleased with the honour thou hast done me, and -besides, must own thou hast been the cheapest, kindest physician to me I -ever met with; for whenever my circumstances sit uneasy upon me, (and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_35">{35}</a></span> -for thy comfort <i>Tom</i>, we poets have our plagues in this world, as well -as we had in your’s) when my landlord persecutes me for rent, my -sempstress for my linnen, my taylor for cloaths, or my vintner for a -long pagan score behind the bar, I immediately read but half a dozen -lines of thy admirable ode, and sleep as heartily as the monks in -<i>Rabelais</i>, after singing a verse or two of the seven penitential -psalms. All I am afraid of, is, that when the virtues of it are known, -some body or other will be perpetually borrowing it of me, either to -help him to a nap, or cure him of the spleen, for I find ’tis an -excellent specifick for both; therefore I must desire thee to order -trusty <i>Sam.</i> to send me as many of them as have escap’d the -Pastry-cook, and I will remit him his money by the next opportunity. If -<i>Augustus Cæsar</i> thought a <i>Roman</i> gentleman’s pillow worth the buying, -who slept soundly every night amidst all his debts, can a man blame me -for bestowing a few transitory pence upon thy poem, which is the best -opiate in the universe? In short, friend <i>Tom</i>, I love and admire thee -for the freedom thou hast taken with me; and this I will say in -commendation, that thou hast in this respect done more than even -<i>Alexander</i> the Great durst do. That mighty conqueror, upon the taking -of <i>Thebes</i>, spared all of my family; nay, the very house I lived in: -but thou, who hast a genius superior to him, hast not spared me, even in -what I value most, my verification and good name, for which <i>Apollo</i> in -due time reward thee.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Farewel.</i><br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="King_James_II_to_Lewis_XVI_By_Mr_Boyer"></a><i>King</i> <span class="smcap">James II.</span> <i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Lewis XVI.</span> <i>By Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Boyer</span>.</h2> - -<p><i>Dear Royal Brother and Cousin</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HO’ I have travers’d the vast abyss that lies betwixt us; and am now at -some hundred millions of leagues distance from you, yet do I still -remember the promise I made you before my departure, to send you an -account of my journey hither. Know then, that all the stories you hear -of the mansions of the dead, are flim-flams, invented by the crafty, to -terrify and manage the weak. Here’s no such thing as <i>Hell</i> or -<i>Purgatory</i>; no <i>Lake of fire and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_36">{36}</a></span> brimstone</i>; no <i>cleven-footed -devils</i>; no <i>land of darkness</i>. This place is wonderfully well lighted -by a never decaying effulgence, which flows from the Almighty; and the -pleasures we dead enjoy, and the torments we endure, consist in a full -and clear view of our past actions, whether good or bad; and in being in -such or such company as is allotted us. For my part, I am continually -tormented with the thoughts of having lost three goodly kingdoms by my -infatuation and bigotry; and to aggravate my pain, I am quarter’d with -my royal father <i>Charles</i> I. my honest well meaning brother <i>Charles</i> -II. and the subtle <i>Machiavel</i>; the first reproaches me ever and anon, -with my not having made better use of his dreadful examples; the second, -with having despis’d his wholsome advices; and the third, with having -misapply’d his maxims, thro’ the wrong suggestions of my father -confessor. Oh! that I had as little religion as your self, or as -<i>S</i>—— <i>M</i>——, <i>R</i>—— <i>H</i>——, and some others, of my ministers, and -my predecessors; then might I have reign’d with honour, and in plenty -over a nation, which is ever loyal and faithful to a prince who is -tender of their laws and liberties; and peacefully resign’d my crown my -lawfully begotten son; whereas thro’ the delusions of priest-craft, and -the fond insinuations of a bigotted wife, I endeavoured to establish the -superstitions of <i>Popery</i>, and the fatal maxims of a despotick, -dispensing power, upon the ruins of the <i>Protestant Religion</i>, and of -the fundamental laws of a free people, which at last concluded with my -abdication and exile. I am sorry you have deviated from your wonted -custom of breaking your word, and that you have punctually observ’d the -promise you made me at my dying bed, of acknowledging my dear son as -king of <i>Great-Britain</i>; for I fear my <i>quondam</i> subjects, who love to -contradict you in every thing, will from thence take occasion to abjure -him for ever; whereas had you disowned him, they would perhaps have -acknowledged him in mere spite. Cardinal <i>Richlieu</i>, who visits me -often, professes still a great deal of zeal and affection for your -government, but is extremely concern’d at the wrong measures you take to -arrive at universal monarchy. He has desir’d me to advise you to keep -the old method he chalk’d out for you, which is, to trust more to your -gold than to<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_37">{37}</a></span> your arms. I cannot but think he is in the right on’t, -considering the wonderful success the first has lately had with the -archbishop of <i>Cologn</i>, and some other of the <i>German</i> and <i>Italian</i> -princes, and the small progress your armies have made in the <i>Milanese</i>. -But the wholesomeness of his advice is yet better justify’d by your -dealings with the <i>English</i>, whom you know, you have always found more -easily bribed than bullied. Therefore, as you tender the grandeur of -your monarchy, and the interest of my dear son, instead of raising new -forces, and fitting out fleets, be sure to send a cart-load of your -new-coin’d <i>Lewis d’ors</i> into <i>England</i>, in order to divide the nation, -and set the <i>Whigs</i> and <i>Tories</i> together by the ears. But take care you -trust your money in the hands of a person that knows how to distribute -it to more advantage than either count <i>T——d</i> or <i>P——n</i>, who, as I -am told, have lavish’d away your favours all at once upon insatiable -cormorants, and extravagant gamesters and spendthrifts. ’Tis true, by -their assistance, and the unwearied diligence of my loyal <i>Jacobites</i>, -you have made a shift to get the old ministry discarded, and to retard -the grand alliance; but let me tell you, unless you see them afresh, -they will certainly leave you in the lurch at the next sessions; for -ingratitude and corruption do always go together. Therefore to keep -these mercenary rogues to their behaviour, and in perpetual dependance, -you must feed them with small portions, as weekly, or monthly allowance. -Above all, bid your agents take heed how they deal with a certain -indefatigable writer, who, as long as your gold has lasted, has been -very useful to our cause, and boldly defeated the dangerous counsels of -the <i>Whigs</i>, your implacable enemies; but who, upon the first -withdrawing of your bounty, will infallibly turn cat in pan, and write -for the house of <i>Austria</i>.</p> - -<p>I could give you more instructions in relation to <i>England</i>, but not -knowing whether they would be taken in good part, I forbear them for the -present. Pray comfort my dear spouse with a royal kiss, and tell her, I -wait her coming with impatience. Bid my beloved son not despair of -ascending my throne, that is, provided he shakes off the fetters of the -<i>Romish</i> superstition; let him not despond upon account of my unfaithful -servant <i>Fuller</i>’s evidence against his legitimacy, for the depositions -of my<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_38">{38}</a></span> nobility, which are still upon record in the Chancery, will -easily defeat that perjur’d fellow’s pretended proof, with all honest -considering men. And as for the numerous addresses, which I hear, are -daily presented to my successor against him, he may find as many in my -strong box, which were presented to me in his favour, both before and -after his birth. The last courier brought us news of a pretended -miracle, wrought by my body at the <i>Benedictines</i> church; I earnestly -desire you to disabuse the world, and keep the imposture from getting -ground; for how is it possible I should cure eye-fistulas, now I am -dead, that could not ease myself of a troublesome corn in my toe when -living? My service to all our friends and acquaintance; be assur’d that -all the <i>Lethean</i> waters shall never wash away from my memory the great -services I have received at your hands in the other world; nor the -inviolable affection, which makes me subscribe myself,</p> - -<p class="c"> -<i>Dear Royal Brother and Cousin,<br /> -Your most obliged Friend</i>,<br /> -</p> -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">James Rex</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="Lewis_XIVs_Answer_to_K_James_II_By_the_same_Hand"></a><span class="smcap">Lewis XIV</span><i>’s. Answer to</i> <span class="smcap">K. James II.</span> <i>By the same Hand.</i></h2> - -<p><i>Most beloved Royal Brother and Cousin</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">Y</span>OUR’S I received this morning, and no sooner cast my eyes upon the -superscription, but I guess’d it to be written by one of my fellow -kings, by the scrawl and ill spelling. I am glad your account of the -other world agrees so well with the thoughts I always entertained about -it: For, between friends, I never believ’d the stories the priests tell -us of hell and purgatory. Ambition has ever been my religion; and my -grandeur the only deity to which I have paid my adorations. If I have -persecuted the protestants of my kingdom, ’twas not because I thought -their perswasions worse than the <i>Romish</i>, but because I look’d upon -them as a sort of dangerous, antimonarchical people; who, as they had -fixed the crown upon my head, so they might as easily take it off, to -serve<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_39">{39}</a></span> their own party; and because by that means I secur’d the -<i>Jesuits</i>, who must be own’d the best supporters of arbitrary power. -Nay, to tell you the truth, my design in making you, by my emissaries, a -stickler of popery, was only to create jealousies betwixt you and your -people, so that ye might stand in need of my assistance, and be -tributary to my power. I am sorry you are in the company of the three -persons you mention. To get rid of their teasing and reproaching -conversation, I advise you to propose a match at whisk, and if by -casting knaves you can but get <i>Machiavel</i> on your side, I am sure you -will get the better of the other two. Since you mention my owning the -prince your son as king of <i>Great Britain</i>, I must needs tell you, that -neither he nor you, have reason to be beholden to me for it; for what I -did was not to keep my promise to you, but only to serve my own ends; I -considered, that an alliance being made between the <i>English</i>, the -<i>Emperor</i>, and the <i>Dutch</i>, in order to reduce my exorbitant power, a -war must inevitably follow. Now, I suppose, that after two or three -years fighting, my finances will be pretty near exhausted, and that I -shall be forced to condescend to give peace to <i>Europe</i>, as I did four -years ago. The <i>Emperor</i>, I reckon, will be brought to sign and seal -upon reasonable terms, and be content with having some small share in -the <i>Spanist</i> monarchy, as will the <i>Dutch</i> also with a barrier in -<i>Flanders</i>. These two less considerable enemies being quieted, how shall -I pacify those I fear most, I mean the <i>English</i>? Why, by turning your -dear son out of my kingdom, as I formerly did you and your brother. Not -that I will wholly abandon him neither: no, you may rest assured that I -will re-espouse his quarrel, as soon as I shall find an opportunity to -make him instrumental to the advancement of my greatness. I am obliged -to cardinal <i>Richlieu</i> for the concern he shews for the honour of -<i>France</i>, and will not fail to make use of his advice, as far as my -running cash will let me. But I am somewhat puzzled how to manage -matters in <i>England</i> at the next sessions; for my agent <i>P——n</i>, by -taking his leave in a publick tavern, of three of our best friends, has -render’d them suspected to the nation, and consequently useless to me. I -wish you could direct me to some trusty<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_40">{40}</a></span> <i>Jacobite</i> in <i>England</i>, to -distribute my bribes; for I find my own subjects unqualify’d for that -office, and easily bubbled by the sharp mercenary <i>English</i>. However, I -will not so much depend upon my <i>Lewis d’ors</i>, as to disband my armies, -and lay up my fleets, as you and cardinal <i>Richlieu</i> seem to counsel me -to do. I suppose you have no other intelligence but the -<i>London-Gazette</i>, else you would not entertain so despicable an opinion -of my arms in <i>Italy</i>. I send you here enclos’d a collection of the -<i>Gazettes</i> printed this year in my good city of <i>Paris</i>, whereby you -will find, upon a right computation, that the <i>Germans</i> have lost ten -men to one of the confederates. Pray fail not sending me by the next -post, all the instructions you can think of, in relation to <i>England</i>: -for tho’ you made more false steps in this world, than any of your -predecessors; yet I find by your letter, you have wonderfully improv’d -your politicks by the conversation of <i>Machiavel</i> and <i>Richlieu</i>. I have -communicated your letter to your dear spouse and beloved son, who cannot -be perswaded to believe it came from you; not thinking it possible that -so religious a man, whilst living, should turn libertine after his -death: I cannot, with safety, comply to your desire of disabusing the -world, concerning the miraculous cure pretended to be wrought by your -body at the <i>Benedictines</i> church. Such pious frauds being the main prop -of the Popish religion; as this is of my sovereign authority. Your son -may hope to be one day seated on your throne, not by turning Protestant -(to which he is entirely averse, and which I shall be sure to prevent) -but by the <i>superiority</i> of my arms, and the <i>extensiveness</i> of my -<i>power</i>, after I shall have fix’d my son on the monarchy of <i>Spain</i>. -Madam <i>Maintenon</i> desires to be remembred to you, she writes by this -post to Mr. <i>Scarron</i>, her former husband, to desire him to wait on you, -and endeavour to divert your melancholy thoughts, by reading to you the -third part of his comical romance, which we are inform’d he has lately -written, for the entertainment of the dead. I remain as faithfully as -ever,</p> - -<p class="c"> -<i>Dear Royal Brother and Cousin,<br /> -Your affectionate Friend</i>,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Lewis Rex</span>.<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_41">{41}</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang"><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Julian</span>, <i>late Secretary to the</i> <span class="smcap">Muses</span>, <i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Will. Pierre</span> -<i>of</i> Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields <i>Play-house. By another Hand.</i></p></div> - -<p><i>Pandæmonium the 8th of the month of</i> Belzebub.</p> - -<p><i>Worthy and Right Well-beloved</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HAT you may not wonder at an address from hell, or be scandaliz’d at -the correspondence, I must let you know first, that by the uncertainty -of the road, and the forgetfulness of my old acquaintance, all my former -letters are either miscarried, or have been neglected by my -correspondents, who, tho’ they were fond enough of my scandal, nay, -courted my favours when living, now I am past gratifying their vices, -like true men, they think no more of me. The conscious tub-tavern can -witness, and my <i>Berry-street</i> apartment testify the sollicitations I -have had, for the first copy of a new lampoon, from the greatest lords -of the court; tho’ their own folly, and their wives vices were the -subject. My person was so sacred, that the terrible scan-man had no -terrors for me, whose business was so publick and so useful, as -conveying about the faults of the great and the fair; for in my books -the lord was shewn a knave or fool, tho’ his power defended the former, -and his pride would not see the latter. The antiquitated coquet was told -of her age and ugliness, tho’ her vanity plac’d her in the first row in -the king’s box at the play-house, and in the view of the congregation at -St. <i>James</i>’s church. The precise countess that wou’d be scandaliz’d at -a double <i>entendre</i>, was shewn betwixt a pair of sheets with a well made -footman, in spite of her quality and conjugal vow. The formal statesman -that set up for wisdom and honesty, was exposed as a dull tool, and yet -a knave, losing at play his own revenue, and the bribes incident to his -post, besides enjoying the infamy of a poor and fruitless knavery -without any concern. The demure lady, that wou’d scarce sip off the -glass in company, carousing her bottles in private, of cool <i>Nantz</i> too, -sometimes to correct the crudities of her last night’s debauch. In -short, in my books were<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_42">{42}</a></span> seen men and women as they were, not as they -wou’d seem; stripp’d of their hypocrisy, spoil’d of their fig-leaves of -their quality. A knave was a call’d a knave, a fool a fool, a jilt a -jilt, and a whore a whore. And the love of scandal and native malice -that men and women have to one another, made me in such request when -alive, that I was admitted to the lord’s closet, when a man of letters -and merit would be thrust out of doors. And I was as familiar with the -ladies as their lap-dogs; for to them I did often good services, under a -pretence of a lampoon, I conveying a <i>Billet-deux</i>; and so whilst I -expos’d their past vices in the present, I prompted matter for the next -lampoon. After all these services, believe me, Sir, I was no sooner -dead, than forgotten: I have writ many letters to the brib’d countries, -of their fore-runner’s arrival in these parts, but not one word of -answer. I sent word to my lord <i>Squeezall</i> that his good friend Sir -<i>Parcimony Spareall</i> was newly arriv’d, and clapp’d into the bilbows for -a fool as well as a knave, that starv’d himself to supply the -prodigality of his heirs. But he despises good counsel I hear, and -starves both himself and his children, to raise them portions. I writ -another letter to my lady <i>Manishim</i>, that virtuous Mrs. <i>Vizoe</i> was -brought in here, and made shroving-fritters for the hackney devils, for -her unnatural lusts; but <i>Sue Frousy</i> that came hither the other day, -assures me, that she either received not my letter, or at least took no -notice of it; for that she went on in her old road, and had brought her -vice almost into fashion; and that the practical vices of the town -bounded an eternal breach betwixt the sexes, while each confin’d itself -to the same sex, and so threaten’d a cessation of commerce in -propagation betwixt them. In short, Sir, I have tired my self with -advices to my <i>quondam</i> acquaintance, and that should take away your -surprise at my sending to you, who must be honest, because you are so -poor; and a man of merit because you were never promoted; for your world -of the theatre, is the true picture of the greater world, where honesty -and merit starve, while knavery and impudence get favour from all men. -For you, Sir, if I mistake not, are one of the most ancient of his -majesty’s servants, under the denomination of a player, and yet cannot -advance above<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_43">{43}</a></span> the delivering of a scurvy message, which the strutting -leaders of your house wou’d do much more aukwardly, and by consequence -’tis the partiality of them, or the town, that have kept you in this low -post all this while. This perswades me, that from you I may hope a true -and sincere account of things, and how matters are now carried above; -for lying, hypocrisy, and compliment, so take up all that taste of -fortune’s favour, that there is scarce any credit to be given to their -narrations; for either out of favour or malice, they give a false face -to histories, and misrepresent mankind to that abominable degree, that -the best history is not much better than a probable romance; and -<i>Quintus Curtius</i>, and <i>Calprenede</i>, are distinguished more by their -language than sincerity. Thus much by shewing the motive of my writing -to you, to take away your surprise; tho’, before I pass, to remove the -shame of such a correspondence, I must tell you, that your station -qualifying you for a right information of the scandal of the town, I -hope you will not fail to answer my expectation: Behind your scenes come -all the young wits, and all the young and old beaus, both animals of -malice, and wou’d no more conceal any woman’s frailty, or any man’s -folly, than they will own any man’s sense, or any woman’s honesty.</p> - -<p>I know that hell lies under some disadvantages, in the opinion even of -those who are industrious enough to secure themselves a retreat here. -They play the devil among you, and yet are ashamed of their master, and -rail at his abode, as much as if they had no right to the inheritance. -The miser, whose daily toils, and nightly cares and study is how to -oppress the poor, cheat or overreach his neighbour, to betray the trusts -his hypocrisy procured; and, in short, to break all the positive laws of -morality, cries out, <i>Oh diabolical!</i> at a poor harmless double meaning -in a play, and blesses himself that he is not one of the ungodly; rails -at Hell and the Devil all the while he is riding post to them. The holy -sister, that sacrifices in the righteousness of her spirit the -reputation of some of her acquaintance or other every day; that cuckolds -her husband in the fear of the Lord with one of the elect; rails at the -whore of <i>Babylon</i>, and lawn-sleeves, as the diabolical invention of -<i>Lucifer</i>, tho’ she is laying up<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_44">{44}</a></span> provisions here for a long abode in -these shades of reverend <i>Satan</i>, whom she so much all her life declaims -against. The lawyer that has watched whole nights, and bawl’d away whole -days in bad causes, for good gold; that never car’d how crafty his -client’s title was, if his bags were full; that has made a hundred -conveyances with flaws, to beget law-suits, and litigious broils; when -he’s with the Devil, has the detestation of Hell and the Devil in his -mouth, all the while that the love of them fills his whole heart; and so -thro’ the rest of our false brothers, whose mouths bely their minds, and -fix an infamy on what they most pursue.</p> - -<p>This is what may make you ashamed of my correspondence, but when you -will reflect on what good company we keep here, you will think it more -an honour than disgrace; for our company here is chiefly composed of -princes, great lords, modern statesmen, courtiers, lawyers, judges, -doctors of divinity, and doctors of the civil-law, beaux, ladies of -beauty and quality, wits of title, men of noisy honour, gifted brothers, -boasters of the spirits supply’d them from hence: In short, all that -make most noise against us: which will, I hope, satisfy you so far, as -to make me happy in a speedy answer; which will oblige,</p> - -<p class="c"> -<i>Your very Humble and<br /> -Infernal Servant</i>,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Julian</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="Will_Pierres_Answer_By_the_same_Hand"></a><span class="smcap">Will. Pierre</span><i>’s Answer. By the same Hand.</i></h2> - -<p class="hang"> -<i>Behind the Scenes</i>, Lincolns-Inn-Fields,<br /> -Nov. 5. 1701.<br /> -</p> - -<p><i>Worthy Sir, of venerable Memory.</i></p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">Y</span>OURS I received, and have been so far from being surpriz’d at, or -asham’d of your correspondence, that the first I desired, and the latter -was transported with. My mind has been long burdened, and I wanted<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_45">{45}</a></span> such -a correspondence to disclose my grievances to, for there is no man on -earth that wou’d give me the hearing, for Popery makes a man of the best -parts a jest, and every fool with a feather in his cap, can overlook a -man of merit in rags. Wit from one out at heels, sounds like nonsense in -the ears of a gay fop, that knows no other furniture of a head, but a -full wig; and he that would split himself with the half jest of a lord -he wou’d flatter, is deaf to the best thing from the mouth, of a poor -fellow he can’t get by. These considerations, Sir, have made me proud of -this occasion, of replying to your obliging letter, in the manner you -desire. For as scandal was your occupation here above, you, like -vintners and bawds, living on the sins of the times; so a short -impartial account of the present state of iniquity and folly, cannot be -disagreeable to you.</p> - -<p>Poetry was the vehicle that conveyed all your scandal to the town, and I -being conversant about the skirts of that art, my scandal must dwell -chiefly thereabouts; not omitting that scantling of general scandal of -the town, that is come to my knowledge; for you must know, since your -death, and your successor <i>Summerton</i>’s madness, lampoon has felt a very -sensible decay, and seldom is there any attempt at it, and when there -is, ’tis very heavy and dull, cursed verse, or worse prose: so gone is -the brisk spirit of verse, that us’d to watch the follies and vice of -the men and women of figure, that they could not start new ones faster -than lampoons expos’d them. This deficiency of satire is not from a -scarcity of vices, which abound more than ever, or follies more numerous -than in your time, but from a meer impotence of malice, which tho’ as -general as ever, confines itself to discourse; and railing is its utmost -effort, defaming over one bottle, those they caress over another. Every -man abuses his friend behind his back, and no man ever takes notice of -it, but does the same thing in his turn: And for sincerity, women have -as much: the women grow greater hypocrites than ever, lewder in their -chamber practice, and more formal in publick; they rail at the vices -they indulge; they forsake publick diversions, as plays, <i>&c.</i> to gain -the reputation of virtue, to give a greater loose to the domestick -diversions of a bottle and gallant; and hypocrisy heightens their -pleasures. The mode now is not as of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_46">{46}</a></span> old, in all amorous encounters, -every man to his woman, but like nuns in a cloyster, every female has -her <i>privado</i> of her own sex; and the honester part of men, must either -fall in with the modish vice, or live chastly; to both which I find a -great many extreamly averse. There has a terrible enemy arose to the -stage, an abdicate divine, who when he had escaped the pillory for -sedition, and reforming the state, set up for the reformation of the -stage. The event was admirable, fanaticks presented the nonjuror, and -misers and extortioners gave him bountiful rewards: one grave citizen, -that had found the character too often on the stage, and famous for the -ruin of some hundreds of poor under-tradesmen’s families, laid out -threescore pounds in the impression, to distribute among the saints, -that are zealous for God and mammon at the same time: Bullies and -republicans quarrell’d for the <i>passive obedience</i> spark; grave divines -extoll’d his wit, and atheists his religion; the fanaticks his honesty, -the hypocrite his zeal, and the ladies were of his side, because he was -<i>for submitting to force</i>. There is yet a greater mischief befall’n the -stage; here are societies set up for <i>reformation of manners</i>; troops of -<i>informers</i>, who are maintain’d by perjury, serve God for gain, and -ferret out whores for subsistence. This noble society consists of -divines of both churches, fanatick as well as orthodox saints and -sinners, knights of the post, and knights of the elbow, and they are not -more unanimous against immorality in their informations, than for it in -their practice; they avoid no sins in themselves, and will suffer none -in any one else. The fanaticks, that never preached up morality in their -pulpits, or knew it in their dealings, would seem to promote it in the -ungodly. The churchmen, that would enjoy the pleasure of sinners, and -the reputation of saints, are for punishing whores and drinking in all -but themselves. In short, the motive that carries the Popish apostles to -the richer continents, makes these gentlemen so busy in our reformation -money. Nay, reformation is grown a staple commodity, and the dealers in -it are suddenly to be made into a corporation, and their privileges -peculiar are to be perjury without punishment, and lying with impunity. -The whores have a tax laid on them towards their maintenance, <span class="pagenum"><a id="page_47">{47}</a></span>in which -they share with captain <i>W</i>——, and the justices of the peace; for -<i>New-Prison</i> knows them in all their turns, and twenty or thirty -shillings gives them a license for whoring, till next pay-day; so that -the effect of their punishment only raising the price of the sin, and -the vices of the nation maintain the informers. Drinking, swearing and -whoring are the manufactures they deal in; for should they stretch their -zeal to <i>cozening, cheating, injury, extortion, oppression, defamation, -secret adulteries, and fornication</i>, and a thousand other of these more -crying immoralities, the city would rise against these invaders of their -liberties, and the cuckolds one and all, for their own and their wives -sakes, rise against the reformers. These worthy gentlemen, for promoting -the interest of the <i>Crown Office</i>, and some such honest place, pick -harmless words out of plays, to indict the players and squeeze twenty -pound a week out of them, if they can, for their exposing pride, vanity, -hypocrisy, usury, oppression, cheating, and the other darling vices of -the master reformers, who owe them a grudge, not to be appeas’d without -considerable offerings; for money in these cases wipes off all defects.</p> - -<p>There are other matters of smaller importance, I shall refer to my next, -as who kisses who in our dominions; that hypocrisy has infected the -stage too, where whores with great bellies would thrust themselves off -for virgins, and bully the audience out of their sight and -understanding; where maids can talk bawdy for wit, and footmen pass on -quality for gentlemen; fools sit as judges on wit, and the ignorant on -men of learning; where the motto is <i>Vivitur Ingenio</i>, the dull rogues -have the management and the profits; where farce is a darling, and good -sense and good writing not understood: and this brings to my mind a -thing I lately heard from a false smatterer in poetry behind the scenes, -and which if you see <i>Ben. Johnson</i>, I desire you to communicate to him. -A new author, says one, that has wrote a taking play, is writing <i>a -treatise of Comedy, in which he mauls the learned rogues, the writers, -to some purpose</i>; he shews what a coxcomb <i>Aristotle</i> was, and what a -company of senseless pedants the <i>Scaligers</i>, <i>Rapins</i>, <i>Vossi</i>, <i>&c.</i> -are; proves that no good play can be regular, and that all rules are as -ridiculous as useless. He tells us, <i>Aristotle</i> knew nothing of poetry, -(for he knew nothing<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_48">{48}</a></span> of his fragments so extoll’d by <i>Scaliger</i>) and -that common sense and nature was not the same in <i>Athens</i> as in -<i>Drury-lane</i>; that uniformity and coherence was <i>green-sleeves</i> and -<i>pudding-pies</i>, and that irregularity and nonsense were the chief -perfections of the <i>drama</i>. That the <i>Silent Woman</i>, by consequence was -before the <i>Trip to the Jubilee</i>, and the <i>Ambitious Step-Mother</i>, -better than the <i>Orphan</i>; that <i>hiccius doctius</i> was <i>Arabick</i>, and that -<i>Bonnyclabber</i> is the <i>black broth</i> of the <i>Lacedæmonians</i>; and thus he -runs on with paradoxes as new as unintelligible; but this noble treatise -being yet in embryo, you may expect a farther account of it in the next, -from,</p> - -<p class="c"> -<i>Sir,<br /> -Your obliged humble Servant</i>,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Will. Pierre</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="Antiochus_to_Lewis_XIV_By_Mr_Henry_Baker"></a><span class="smcap">Antiochus</span> <i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Lewis XIV.</span> <i>By Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Henry Baker</span>.</h2> - -<p><i>Dear Brother</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">Y</span>OU will be surpriz’d, I know, to receive this letter from a stranger; -and of all the damn’d, perhaps, I am the only man from whom you least of -all expect any news; because I have always passed for so impious and -cruel a prince, and my name has given people such horrid ideas of me, -that they think me insensible of pity, as having never practised any in -my life-time.</p> - -<p>When I sat upon the throne of <i>Syria</i>, having no more religion than your -<i>Most Christian Majesty</i>, I stifled all the dictates of my conscience, -pillaged the temple of the <i>Jews</i>, caroused with their blood, and -running from one crime to another, drew infinite desolations every where -after me. But after I had exercised my tyranny on the innocent posterity -of several great kings, and left a thousand monuments of my barbarity, I -found to my sorrow, that I was mortal, and obliged to submit to that -fare, whose attacks feeble nature cannot resist. I then fell into an -abyss, which is enlightened only by those flames which will for ever -roast such monsters as we; and where I was loaded<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_49">{49}</a></span> with heavier irons -than any I had plagu’d poor mortals with above. To welcome me into this -place of horror, and refresh me after my voyage, I was plung’d into a -bath of fire and brimstone, cupp’d by a Master-devil, rubb’d, scrubb’d, -<i>&c.</i> by a parcel of smoaking, grinning hobgobblins, and afterwards -presented with a musical entertainment of groans, howling, and gnashing -of teeth. I soon began to play my part in this hideous consort, where -despair beat the measure; and because my pains were infinitely greater -than those of others, I immediately asked the reason of my torments, and -was told it was for having hindered the peopling of Hell, by the -multitude of martyrs my long persecutions had made, and of which you -cannot be ignorant, if you delight in useful reading. Since I have been -in this empire of sorrow, where I found the <i>Pharaohs</i>, <i>Ahabs</i>, -<i>Jezebels</i>, <i>Athaliahs</i>, <i>Nebuchadnezzars</i>, &c. and where I have seen -arrive the <i>Neroes</i>, <i>Dioclesians</i>, <i>Decii</i>,<a id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> <i>Philips of Austria</i>, -<a id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> <i>Charles of Valois</i>, whose names would fill a volume; the recruits -of <i>Loyola</i> arrive every day in search of their captain, but in some -confusion, for fear of meeting <i>Clement</i> and <i>Ravillac</i>, who never cease -cursing them. Your apartments, <i>Most Christian Hero</i>, has been some -fifty years a rearing, but now they redouble their care, your coming -being daily expected; I give you timely notice of it, that you may take -your measures accordingly. Perhaps you will be offended at this -familiarity, and tell me no man can deserve hell for fighting against -hereticks, under the command of an infallible general; but if you know -the present state of those miter’d leaders, it would not a little -terrify you. <i>Lucifer</i> has turned them into several shapes, and peopl’d -his back yard with them; the place ’tis true, is not so delightful as -your <i>Menagerie</i> and <i>Trianon</i> at <i>Versailles</i>, but much excels it in -variety and number of monsters. Your cell is in the same yard, that you -may be near your good friends, who advis’d you to make the habitation of -the shades a desart; for which the prince of darkness hates you -mortally, and designs you something worse than a fistula, or the bull of -<i>Phalaris</i>. Your ingenious emissaries, <i>Marillac</i>, <i>la Rapine</i>, and <i>la -Chaise</i>, will meet in the squadrons of <i>Pluto</i><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_50">{50}</a></span> with more invenom’d -dragoons, than those they let loose against their poor countrymen in -<i>France</i>: ’twill be their employment to keep this <i>Menagerie</i> clean, -whose stench would otherwise poison the rest of hell. That renegado -<i>Pelisson</i> too makes so odious a figure here, that he frights the -boldest of our jaylors; and his eyes, red with crying for his sins, -which were so much the greater, because they were voluntary, make him -asham’d to look anyone in the face. Our learned think him profoundly -ignorant; yet you must be the <i>Trajan</i> of that <i>Pliny</i>, for he is now -writing your history in such a terrible manner, that it will but little -resemble that which your pensionary wits are composing. The voyage -having made him lose some part of his memory, and forget the particulars -of your virtues; he will therefore take me for his model, and draw my -life under your name. Tho’ your dear <a id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> <i>Dulcinea</i>, whose head he -dresses like a girl’s, at the age of threescore and ten, makes the court -of <i>Proserpine</i> rejoice before-hand; yet the deformed <a id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> author of the -comical romance, cannot laugh, as facetious as he is; I will tell you no -more, because some may think I give this counsel out of my private -interest; for having been always ambitious, it would doubtless grieve me -to see a more wicked and cruel tyrant than myself; but on the faith and -word of one that endures the sharpest of torments, ’tis pure compassion.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>I am Yours</i>, &c.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="Lewis_the_XIVths_Answer"></a><span class="smcap">Lewis</span> <i>the</i> XIV<i>th’s Answer</i>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> Just now receiv’d your’s by a courier, who, had he not been too nimble -for me, had been rewarded according to his deserts for his impudent -message. But are you such a coxcomb as to imagine that the most -ambitious monarch upon earth, whose power puts all the princes and -states of <i>Europe</i> into convulsions, can be frighted at the threats of a -wretch condemn’d to everlasting punishments? The insolence of your -comparison, I must confess, threw me into a rage: and not reflecting at -first on the impossi<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_51">{51}</a></span>bility of the thing, I sent immediately for -<i>Boufflers</i> to dragoon you. But, villain! because your malice has been -rampant for so many ages, must you now level it at the eldest son of the -church, whom the godly <i>Jesuits</i> have already canoniz’d? I am not so -ignorant of the history of <i>Asia</i>, tho’ I never read any of the books of -the <i>Maccabees</i>; but I know you were both judge and executioner, and -that there is not in the universe one monument consecrated to your -glory. Thanks to the careful <i>Jesuits</i>, <i>la place des victoris</i>, is a -sufficient proof that my reputation is no <i>chimera</i>, and my name, which -is to be seen in golden characters over several monasteries, assures me -of a glorious immortality. ’Tis true, to keep in favour with the church, -I have compell’d a handful of obstinate fools to leave their country and -estates, by forcing them to renounce their God, and implicitly take up -with mine. Therefore the world has no reason to make such a noise about -it. Are you mad to call <i>Pelisson</i>, who has read more volumes than a -<i>rabbi</i>, and cou’d give lessons of hypocrisy to the most exquisite sect -of the <i>Pharisees</i>, a block-head? Your torments are so great, you know -not on whom to spit your venom, and my poor <a id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> mistress, forsooth, must -suffer from your malice: Is she the worse for being born in the reign of -my grandfather? Pray ask <i>Boileau</i>, whose sincerity has cost him many a -tear, what he thinks of her. All the world knows her virtues, and that -she is grown grey in the school of dissimulation and lewdness, which -have render’d her so charming in the feats of love, that she pleases me -more than the youngest beauty; therefore are her wrinkles the objects of -my wonder, and the provocatives of my enervated limbs, instead of being -antidotes; and I would not give a saint a wax-candle to make her -younger. Tho’ I am seiz’d by a cancer on the shoulder, yet I am under no -apprehensions, for I have given a fee to St. <i>Damian</i>, who will cure me -of it, as well as of that nauseous malady of <i>Naples</i>: And I have -plenipotentiaries now bribing heaven for its friendship, and a new term -of years. Then ’tis in vain for <i>Lucifer</i>, or you, ever to expect me; -and when I must leave this terrestial <i>paradice</i>, ’twill be with such a -convoy of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_52">{52}</a></span> <i>Masses</i>, as will hurry me by the very gate of <i>Purgatory</i>, -without touching there. In the mean time correct your saucy liberty, and -let a monarch who wou’d scorn to entertain such a pitiful wretch as thou -art for his pimp, still huff the world, and sleep quietly in his -<i>seraglio</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Versailles</i>, July 14.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Lewis R.</span><br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="Catharine_de_Medicis_to_the_Duchess_of_Orleans"></a><span class="smcap">Catharine</span> de Medicis, <i>to the Duchess of</i> <span class="smcap">Orleans</span>.</h2> - -<p><i>Madam</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> Have long bewailed your condition, and tho’ I am in a place of horror, -yet I should think myself in some measure happy, if I knew how to -deliver you from those anxieties which torment you. We have some body or -other arrives here daily from <i>Versailles</i>, and as my curiosity inclines -me to enquire after your highness, I have received so advantageous a -character of your goodness from all hands, that I think every one ought -to pity you. Your life, madam, has been very unhappy, for you were -married very young to a jealous ill-natur’d prince, who had no love for -you; tho’ no person in the world was fitter either to inspire or receive -it than yourself: However, you have had better luck than his former -wife, which I take to be owing to your prudence, and not his generosity. -The desolations of the <i>Palatine</i>, and persecution of a religion you -once approved, must infallibly have given you many uneasy moments, but -your misfortunes did not stop here, for even your domestick pleasures -have been poison’d by the dishonour and injustice of the court you live -in. In short, tho’ I was very unfortunate, yet I think you much more -worthy of compassion: When I married <i>Henry</i> II. I was both young and -handsome, yet his doting on the haughty duchess of <i>Valentinois</i>, who -was a grandmother before <i>Francis</i> II. was born, made me pass many -melancholy nights. Notwithstanding the injustice as well as cruelty of -keeping a saucy strumpet under my nose, yet with the veil of prudence -and religion, I easily covered my inclinations, because the pious<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_53">{53}</a></span> -cardinal of <i>Lorrain</i>, who had an admirable talent to comfort an -afflicted heart, commiserating my condition, gave me wonderful -consolation. As the refreshing cordials of the church soon made me -forget the king’s ill usage of me; so, madam, it is not so much the -infidelity of your husband, as the cruel constraint and jealousy, that -makes me think your life to be miserable; for how great soever your -occasions are, you dare not I know, accept of those assistances, I daily -receive from a plump agreeable prelate, and I am heartily sorry for it. -To divert this discourse, which may perhaps aggravate your uneasiness, -by renewing your necessities, you’ll tell me, I suppose, that I shou’d -have had as much compassion, when <i>France</i> was dy’d with the blood of so -many thousand victims, and that I might easily have moderated the fury -of my son, and of the house of <i>Guise</i>; but besides, you must consider, -I was a zealous Papist; and they, you know, think the cutting of poor -hereticks throats is doing heaven good service; so that I beheld the -dreadful massacre of St. <i>Bartholomew</i> with as much satisfaction as ever -I did the most glorious and solemn festival. I am not for it at present, -madam, and could I have been so sooner, it would have been much more for -my ease. All my comfort is, that I am not by myself in a strange and -unknown country: for the old duchess, who robbed me of my due -benevolence in the other world, continually follows me to upbraid me; -the <i>Guises</i> rave, brandishing bloody daggers in their hands; and every -hour I meet with numbers of my former acquaintance and nearest -relations, but I avoid their company as much as I can, for the love of -my dear cardinal, who continues as great a gallant as ever. I ask no -masses of you, for the dead are not a farthing the better for them. But, -madam, since all the world has not so good an opinion of me at -<i>Brantome</i>, let me conjure you not to let my memory be too much -insulted. Some may say I was as cunning as <i>Livia</i>, that I was even with -my husband, and govern’d my children; but their fate did not answer my -care: For <i>Francis</i> liv’d but a little time, <i>Elizabeth</i> found her tomb -in the arms of a jealous husband, the queen of <i>Navarre</i> was a wandering -star, <i>Charles</i> a cautious coxcomb, that sacrificed all to his safety; -and <i>Henry</i>, on whom I had founded all my hopes, a dis<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_54">{54}</a></span>solute debauchee, -whom the justice of heaven would not spare. You know his history, and if -you shou’d see a tragedy, of the like nature acted on your stage, let -your constancy, which makes you respected even in hell, support you. Let -old <a id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> <i>Messalina</i> enjoy the famous honour of the royal bed; you need -not blush at it, since all the world esteems you as much as they.</p> - -<h2><a id="The_Answer_of_the_Duchess_of_Orleans_to_Catharine_de_Medicis"></a><i>The Answer of the Duchess of</i> <span class="smcap">Orleans</span> <i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Catharine</span> de Medicis.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">’T</span>WAS with much reason you pity me; and tho’ I have said nothing all -this while, yet I have not thought the less. If the practice of our -court did not teach me to dissemble, I should give myself some ease, by -imparting many things to you, which would fill you with horror; and then -you would find that the cruelties of your sons were trifles in -comparison of these. The most impartial censurers of barbarity maintain -that the massacre of St. <i>Bartholomew</i> was milder than the present -persecution of the Protestants: Ambition was the chiefest motive of the -<i>Guises</i>; but now their cruelties are covered with the cloak of -religion; for the virtuous favourite <a id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> <i>Sultaness</i>, with the pitious -<a id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> <i>Mufti</i> in waiting, are resolved to cause the christians to be more -cruelly persecuted than they were at <i>Algiers</i>, and the <i>Roman church</i> -is resolved, at any rate, to merit the name of the blood-thirsty beast. -They value not exposing the reputation of princes; I blush for my race, -and am often obliged to swallow my tears. I believe the efficacy of -masses no more than you, therefore I will not offer you any. I am very -glad to hear the cardinal of <i>Lorrain</i> proves so constant; for a prelate -of his talent and constitution must certainly be a great consolation to -a distressed princess. <i>Brantome</i> who has so much flatter’d you, may do -it again; and tho’ <i>Sancy</i> has been too sincere, yet he dares not -contradict him in your presence. I hope to see the ruins of my country -rais’d up again; for tho’ our ambitious monarch huffs and hectors<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_55">{55}</a></span> all -Christendom, yet his game to me seems very desperate, and I believe -he’ll prove the dog in the fable; since he has so depopulated and -impoverish’d his dominions by persecutions, that those pious drones the -<i>Monks</i>, only can support the church’s grandeur in their faces, with -three story-chains; the rest of his people being reduc’d to wooden-shoes -and garlick. Tho’ our <i>Gazettes</i> are little better than romances, yet -they will serve to divert you and your cardinal, when not better -employ’d; and I wish I could send them to you weekly. ’Tis true, great -numbers set out daily from hence, for your country; and among them, -people of the best quality, but I carefully avoid all commerce with -them; and tho’ I have a wonderful esteem for you, take it not amiss, -madam, if I endeavour never to see you.</p> - -<h2><a id="Cardinal_Mazarine_to_the_Marquis_de_Barbasiux"></a><i>Cardinal</i> <span class="smcap">Mazarine</span>, <i>to the Marquis</i> de <span class="smcap">Barbasiux</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> Am surpriz’d to think you have profited so little by your father’s -example: as great a beast he was, he govern’d himself better than you; -for contenting himself with pillaging all <i>France</i>, according to our -maxims, he never attempted the life of any man, nor ever set any <a id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> -<i>Ravillacs</i> to work. Is it not a horrible thing to see the <a id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> servant -of a minister of state suffer upon the wheel, and publish the shame of -him that set him to work? You were mightily mistaken in the choice of -your villain; for whenever you have a king to dispatch, you must employ -a <i>Jesuit</i>, or some novice inspired by their <i>religious society</i>; and -had you been so wise, the prince <a id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> you had a plot against wou’d not -be now in the way, to hinder the designs of a <a id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> king, for whom I have -the tenderness of a father, who was always under my subjection, and -wou’d have married my niece, if I had pleas’d. I fell into a cold sweat -even in the midst of my fire and brimstone, at the news of your<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_56">{56}</a></span> -conspiracy; because it so severely reflected on his reputation. Ought -you to have exposed his credit in so dubious an enterprize? Is it not -sufficient that poets set upon him <a id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> <i>Mont Pagnotte</i>, whilst other -princes gave glorious examples at the head of their troops? That they -reproach him with incest, sodomy, adultery, and an unbridled passion for -the relict of a poor <a id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> poet, who is a turn-spit here below, and who -had nothing to keep him from starving when upon earth, but the pension -which the charity of <i>Anne of Austria</i> granted to his infirmities, -rather than his works, tho’ very diverting. What was your aim in this -cowardly design? wou’d you have more servants, and more whores? Or, -ought you to effect that, to revive those scenes of cruelty and -treachery which we banish’d after the death of the most eminent cardinal -<i>Richlieu</i>? All the wealth you can raise, will never amount to the -treasures I was master of; and how much is there now left, ask the duke -of <i>Mazarine</i>, and my nephew of <i>Nevers</i>; one has been the bubble of the -priests, and the other of his pleasures. So that the children of the -first will hardly share one year of my revenue. His wife for several -years was no charge to him, she for her beauty, being kept by strangers; -whilst he fool’d away those vast riches he had by her. In short, you see -the praying coxcomb I made choice of, which, I must confess, I did when -I was in my cups, has thro’ his zeal and bigotry ruin’d all, even my -most beautiful statues; and that there is a curse entail’d upon such -estates as begin with a miracle, and end with a prodigy. I was born at -<i>Mazare</i>, without any other advantage than that of my beauty; but as a -young fellow can scarce desire a better portion than that, in <i>Italy</i>, -so it mov’d cardinal <i>Anthony</i> to lead me lovingly from his chamber to -his closet, where on a soft easy couch, he preach’d to me morals after -the <i>Italian</i> fashion; by which, and some other virtuous actions of the -same stamp, I became the richest favourite in the universe. You may as -well as I, heap a mighty treasure, and lose it foolishly. Do not be -guilty then of murder, for things so uncertain in the possession. Poor -<i>Louvois</i>! who left you all, who drank more than <i>Alexander</i>, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_57">{57}</a></span> -thiev’d better than <i>Colbert</i>, or I, has not now water to quench his -thirst. You will undoubtedly meet the same destiny; for this is the -residence of traitors, murtherers, thieves, and all other notorious -villains. ’Tis not altogether so pleasant a place as <a id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> <i>Meudon</i> and -<i>Chaville</i>; for we drink nothing but <i>Aqua-fortis</i>, and eat burning -<i>charcoal</i>; all happiness is banish’d, misery only triumphs; and -notwithstanding all those lying stories the priests may tell you, yet -you’ll be strangly surpriz’d, when you come to judge it by your own -experience.</p> - -<h2><a id="The_Answer_of_Monsieur_le_Marquis_de_Barbasieux_to_Cardinal"></a><i>The Answer of Monsieur le Marquis de</i> <span class="smcap">Barbasieux</span>, <i>to Cardinal</i> -<span class="smcap">Mazarine</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">Y</span>OUR eminence I find, is in a great passion, because my father did not -get an estate in your service: Must you therefore abuse him, and turn -that as a crime upon me, which has been practis’d ever since there have -been kings in the world? If your talent only lay in pillaging and -plundering, must it therefore prescribe to mine? And do you think the -glory of taking away by dagger or poison the enemies of one’s prince, -deserves less immortality, than of ruining of his subjects? You have, I -confess, very meritoriously eterniz’d your name by that method, for -which reason you ought in conscience to allow me the liberty to find out -another. You are much in the wrong on’t, to complain of the duke of -<i>Mazarine</i>, who did you the honour to think you were only in purgatory, -and lavish’d your treasures upon bigots, in hopes to pray you out of it. -If he in a holy fit of zeal, dismember’d your fine statues, which -perhaps too often recalled to your memory the pious sermons of cardinal -<i>Anthony</i>, he is severely punish’d in a libel made against him, in -vindication of your beauteous niece. If that satire reaches your regions -below, you’ll soon be convinced what a coxcomb you were when you chose -the worst of men, to couple with the most charming of women. This, with -several other passages of your life, makes me not much wonder at your -condemning me by your cardinal’s authority, to<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_58">{58}</a></span> drink <i>Aquafortis</i>, and -eat burning charcoal; it may perhaps be a proper diet for <i>Epicurean</i> -cardinals and <i>Italians</i>, who love hot liquors, and high-season’d -ragoos; but the lords of <i>Chaville</i> and <i>Meudon</i> do not desire your -entertainments. How do you know, I beseech you, but I may take the cell -of the young Marquis <i>d’Ancré</i> at <a id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> <i>Mont Valerine</i>; there, by a long -penitence, to purge me of those sins you say I have committed? Therefore -if you reckon me in the number of those reprobates, doom’d to people the -infernal shades, time will at last make it appear, that your eminence -has reckoned without your host.</p> - -<h2><a id="Mary_I_of_England_to_the_Pope"></a><span class="smcap">Mary I.</span> <i>of</i> England <i>to the</i> Pope.</h2> - -<p><i>Most Holy Father</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HE malignant planet that governed at my birth, so influenc’d all the -faculties of my soul, that I was the most outragious and barbarous -princess till that time mounted the <i>English</i> throne; and as it is no -extraordinary thing to continue in the same temper, in a country -inhabited only with tyrants, and the butchers of their subjects, so you -ought not to be surprised, if I am not now dispossessed of it. I had not -long troubled the world before my mother <a id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> was divorced, and I myself -declared incapable of succeeding <i>Henry</i> VIII. <i>Anne Boleyn</i> was then -brought to the royal bed; and what was worse, with her was introduced a -religion so conformable to the laws of God, that it never suited with my -inclinations. The proud rival of <i>Catherine</i>, was afterwards sacrific’d -to the inconstancy of her voluptuous husband; but that insipid religion, -to my grief, was not confounded with her; for the young and simple -<i>Edward</i> countenanced it during his reign. But then came my turn, and -you know, sovereign pontiff, with what pride and malice I mounted the -throne; the means I used to destroy that cursed heretical doctrine; the -pleasure I took in shedding my subjects blood; what magnificence and -splendor I gave to the mass; how barbarously I treated that innocent and -beautiful princess <i>Jane Gray</i>; with what severity I used my sister -<i>Elizabeth</i>, and also the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_59">{59}</a></span> immoderate joy that seized my precious soul, -when I married a prince who had, as well as I, the good quality of being -cruel to the highest degree, is not unknown to you. Notwithstanding what -I said in the beginning of my letter, you may, perhaps, think my -sentiments now altered: but I assure you the contrary, and that I cannot -behold with patience your present insensibility and mildness. Is it -possible you can suffer a religion, destitute of all ornaments, that has -nothing but truth and simplicity to recommend it, to get the advantage -of your <i>Rome</i>, which reigns in blood and purple, subsists by falshood -and idolatry, and sets up and pulls down kings? how can you endure it? -what a horrid shame and weakness is this? are there no more <i>Ravillacs</i>? -is there neither powder nor daggers, in the arsenal of the Jesuits? have -they forgot how to build wheels, gibbets, and scaffolds? or is your -malice, envy, hatred, and fury, seized with a lethargy? ’s death! holy -father, I am distracted when I think that nothing succeeds in <i>England</i>, -where I took so much pains, and practised so much cruelty to establish -Popery, and root out the doctrine of the apostles; and where your pious -emissaries following my zeal, had invented most admirable machines to -sacrifice, with <i>James</i> I. all the enemies of your Anti-christian -Holiness. Do you sleep? and must <i>France</i> only brandish the glorious -flambeau of persecution? Consider, I pray, that I employ the best of my -time in imprecations against the deserters from your church; that I so -inflamed my blood in those transports, that it threw me into a dropsy, -which hurried me to the grave. My husband, who was too much of my temper -to love me, was very little concerned: In short, that filthy disease -stifled me, a certain presage of the continual thirst I now suffer. But -I once more beseech you, most holy father, to re-inforce your squadrons, -to join them with the Most Christian King’s, and, with your holy -benediction, give them strict orders to grant no quarters to the -disciples of St. <i>Paul</i>. You will infinitely oblige by it both me and -<i>Lucifer</i>, who is now as zealous a <i>Romanist</i> as your <i>eldest son</i>, and -who, like him, would not willingly suffer any but good Papists, the -friends and pensioners of <i>Versailles</i>, those sworn enemies of liberty -and property, in his dominions. I am so ill-natur’d, that my husband -<i>Philip</i> is as cautious of em<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_60">{60}</a></span>bracing me, as he was in the other world; -but that’s no misfortune either to Earth or Hell, for we could produce -nothing but a monster between us, which would be the terror of mankind, -and horror of devils.</p> - -<h2><a id="The_Popes_Answer_to_Queen_Mary_I"></a><i>The</i> <span class="smcap">Pope</span><i>’s Answer to Queen</i> <span class="smcap">Mary I.</span></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">Y</span>OU are too violent, dear madam, and men of my age and grandeur require -more moderation. I am acquainted with your history, and know your zeal; -by the same token, you need not waste your lungs to acquaint me with -either the one or the other. To be free with you, I am not of the humour -to espouse madly other peoples passions, tho’ I should leave the triple -crown destitute of all pomp and greatness. But I will make the hereticks -blot out of their writings, if possible, the names of <i>Antichrist</i>, -<i>devouring Dragon</i>, <i>Wolf disguis’d in sheeps-skin</i>, and several others -as abusive. Do you not believe people are weary of paying a blind -obedience to the see of <i>Rome</i>? Imperious <i>France</i> has made us sensible -of it; and it is not the fault of the <i>eldest son of the Church</i>, if he -does not dethrone his mother. Ecclesiastical censures are now out of -fashion, and no more minded than pasquinades. We were scorn’d and -ridicul’d in your father’s time; and tho’ you were as handsome as my -<i>quondam</i> mistress, <i>Donna Maria di S. Germano</i>, you would not oblige me -to put up fresh affronts for your sake. Your husband is to blame to -treat you with such indifference, and I think it very ill for an -infected worm-eaten carcase to despise so devout a queen. But I cannot -imagine why the popes, who live all under the same zone with you, suffer -such coldness. Suppose your husband should, like a heretick, despise -their exhortations, one of their decrees has power enough to divorce -you; which in time, I hope, may advance your grandeur; for we hear -<i>Pluto</i> is in love with you for your zeal, and <i>Proserpine</i> is given -over by the physicians. Therefore take my advice, and drink as little -water as you can; for being dropsical, the water of <i>Styx</i> must needs be -prejudicial to you, and the church would lose an admirable good friend. -I offer you no indulgences, they are pure mountebank drugs, and were you -got no farther yet than Purgatory, have not the virtue<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_61">{61}</a></span> to bring you -out. But grant they had that power, as your amours stand now, I suppose -you would not desire it; so, till I have the happiness of wishing your -imperial majesty much joy, <i>I am</i>, &c.</p> - -<h2><a id="Harlequin_to_Father_la_Chaise"></a><span class="smcap">Harlequin</span> <i>to Father</i> la <span class="smcap">Chaise</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">S</span>INCE we were of the same trade, with this difference only, that I -compos’d farces to make the world laugh, and that you invent tragedies -that gave them horror: I believe, reverend father, you will not condemn -the liberty I take of writing to you.</p> - -<p>In the first place, I beseech your reverence, not to put your penitents -out of conceit with those harmless diversions which make me and my -brother-players live so plentifully; but be pleased to take our small -flock into your protection: that power lies in the breast of you and -your pious society: and who wou’d grudge it to such holy men, who have -no other aim than settling and satisfying men’s consciences, by clearing -all the controverted difficulties of Christianity, and rendring religion -so plain and easy, that our enemies cannot find the least doubt or -difficulty in it. Nay, like a dextrous artist you can, with your -admirable morals, remove the justest scruples; for they give so pious an -air, so devout a shade to the greatest crimes, that they enchant the -world, and hide their deformity, without opposing the licentiousness of -passions, or destroying their pleasures or intention. These admirable -talents, most holy confessor, open to your society the closets and -hearts of princes, and bring all the lovers of voluptuousness and -barbarity to be your confessionaries. Truly, reverend father, your fame -is infinite, and the great St. <i>Loyola</i> may be proud of having so many -righteous disciples. But these miracles make the world believe him -something related to <i>Simon Magus</i>; for without inchantments ’tis -impossible to do so many prodigies. The lameness in his feet, and megrim -he’s daily troubled with, by being too near a hot furnace of brimstone, -makes him so peevish and out of humour, that he cannot write to any of -you; therefore look upon me as his secretary, and not a-jot the lesser -saint for having been upon the stage; all <i>Paris</i> can<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_62">{62}</a></span> witness for me, -that as soon as I laid aside my comical mask and habit, I could, upon -occasion, look as demure and devout as a fresh pardoned penitent; so -that the employment is neither above my gravity, nor I hope above my -sincerity and capacity; for I have often had the honour of shewing my -parts before his most christian majesty in his <i>seraglio</i>, to make him -more prolifick, and more disposed to the mighty work of propagation. -But, reverend father, ’tis time now to tell you, as a good catholick and -your friend, that we are so scandaliz’d here at his conduct, that we -cannot believe he follows your holy advice; and were it not for this -doubt, and our sollicitations, <i>Lucifer</i> had last summer sent <i>Loyola</i> -under the command of Monsieur <i>Luxembourg</i>, to dragoon you. <i>Zounds!</i> -says he, <i>is the order that daily sent me so many subjects revolted?</i> -’Tis true, the rogues <i>Ravillac</i> and <i>Clement</i> have a little disgrac’d -you, but we don’t value now what they say, for the wits have espoused -your quarrel, and blinded the eyes of detraction. Indeed it is no wonder -to us, since they sing to <i>Apollo</i>’s harp, which had the power to claim -the transports of <i>Jupiter</i>. Is there any thing so charming as the -discourse of <a id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> <i>Ariste</i> and <i>Eugene</i>, and that little <i>Je ne sçai -quoi</i>, they speak so wittily of? Who can resist the art of good -invention in the work of wit, or an exquisite choice of good verses? And -who would not be charm’d with all those panegyricks upon the ladies? Is -not once reading of them a thousand times more diverting, than those -profound writings you so prudently forbid your penitents the perusal of? -I own indeed, that this conduct is not altogether so apostolical, but -’tis much easier than to be always puzzling and hammering our parables. -’Tis certain, most reverend father, shou’d you leave the sacred writ -open to all readers, it would fare with a thousand good souls, as with -king <i>Ahasuerus</i>, who became favourable to the true religion, by reading -a true chronicle, how many blind wretches think ye would see clear? How -many favourites would be hang’d, and <i>Mordecai</i>’s raised to honour? And -how many <i>Jesuits</i> would be treated as the priests of <i>Baal</i>? But you, -I’m sure, will take care to hinder that; for tru<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_63">{63}</a></span>ly ’twould be contrary -to your ecclesiastical prudence; and it is much safer for you to darken -the divine lights, and confound by sophisms the sacred truths of holy -writ: for what would become of your church, if the clouds were once -dispersed, since it flourishes by their favour, and the protection of -ignorance? Nothing can keep up the credit of a repudiated cheat, whose -shams are so notorious, and whole equipage so different from that of the -legitimate spouse of <i>Jesus Christ</i>, that neither he, nor any of his -faithful servants know or own her, but ignorance and falshood. I ask -your pardon, most reverend father, these expressions flow so naturally -from my subject, that they have escaped my sincerity; and I own this is -not the style of a flatterer. But to atone for my fault, I will give you -some wholsome advice, which is, <i>to make hay while the sun shines</i>, for -you must not expect much fair weather in these doleful quarters. Those -worthy gentlemen called <i>Confessors</i>, being looked upon here to be no -better than so many <i>Ignes fatui</i>, that lead their followers into -precipices; for which reason they are not allowed ice with their liquor. -This I can allure you to be true, <i>in verbo histrionis</i>: Therefore since -you know what you must trust to, I need not advise a person of your -profound parts, what measures to take. <i>Amen.</i></p> - -<h2><a id="Father_la_Chaises_Answer_to_Harlequin"></a><i>Father</i> la <span class="smcap">Chaise</span><i>’s Answer to</i> <span class="smcap">Harlequin</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HO’ you convers’d with none but impudent lousy rhimers, yet you are not -ignorant, you little jack-pudding of the stage, that all comparisons are -odious; and that there can be none between the confessor of a monarch, -and a buffoon. But to answer your letter with the moderation and -prudence of a <i>Jesuit</i>, I will suppose the first part of it not meant to -me. And now to take into consideration the essential points in it: have -we not proscribed heresy by sound of trumpet? And notwithstanding all -the pretty books we have published, and the cajoling tricks we have -used, is not heresy still the same? But to be serious, <i>Harlequin</i>, good -<i>Roman Catholicks</i> must follow no other lights than those of tradition; -and they, who are so incredulous and obstinate as not to believe it, -must have their eyes opened with the sword.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_64">{64}</a></span> ’Twould be a fine -enterprize, wou’d it not, and very profitable to the church, to condemn -images, candles, holy-water, beads, scapularies, relicks, with an -hundred others, which are so many golden mines, and offer only to bigots -the slovenly equipage of <i>Calvin</i>’s reformation? Devotion meerly -spiritual, is too flat and insipid; therefore we must set it off with -jubilees, pilgrimages, processions, drums, trumpets, crosses, banners, -and all the mountebank tricks, and noble nick-nacks of St. <i>Germain</i>’s -fair. If I did not know that jesting was an habitual sin in you, I wou’d -never pardon you; for the <i>Society of Jesus</i> does not teach us to -forgive injuries. Tell St. <i>Loyola</i>, the first of us that shall be sent -post to mighty <i>Lucifer</i>, to desire his assistance in those important -affairs our great monarch has undertaken by his instigation, and which -are too tedious now to relate, shall put into his portmantle some ice to -refresh him, plaisters for his megrim, and ointment for his burns: tell -him also, that the memory of the glorious prophet <i>Mahomet</i>, is not more -respected than his; and that I am,</p> - -<p class="c"> -<i>His most zealous,<br /> -and very humble Servant</i>,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="r"> -la <span class="smcap">Chaise</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="The_Duke_of_Alva_to_the_Clergy_of_France"></a><i>The Duke of</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span> <i>to the</i> <span class="smcap">Clergy</span> <i>of</i> <span class="smcap">France</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> Believe, worthy gentlemen, you are very well satisfy’d that I am -damn’d; and—— indeed there was little likelihood that such a monster -as myself should enjoy happiness, after having committed so much -wickedness, and taken so much pleasure in it. I took a fancy to acts of -cruelty from my very cradle, and with great fidelity serv’d <i>Philip</i> II. -The celebrated apostle of the <i>Gentiles</i> never made so many miserable -wretches when he was as violent a zealot of the law; I, like him, made -use of chains, racks, fire, and all that an ingenious fury cou’d imagine -most tormenting; but it was never any part of my destiny to be converted -at last like him. Thus I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_65">{65}</a></span> went on in my iniquities, and became the -strongest brute that bigottry ever debauch’d; so that at my first -arrival to Hell, there was never a Devil of the whole pack but fell a -trembling, tho’ he had been never so much accustomed to such company -before. But, gentlemen, why are you not become wise by my example? For -you must not flatter yourselves, that the difference of our professions -makes any in our crimes. You are warriors when you please; for the -monastick soldiery follow’d the duke of <i>Mayeney</i>’s standard during the -league; crowned themselves with immortal shame at the barbarous triumph -of St. <i>Bartholomew</i>; and shoulder’d the musket after they had preached -those bloody sermons, which made christians treat their fellow-creatures -like beasts of prey. I confess, I never troubled my head about scruples -of conscience, and if I have not obeyed that article of the decalogue, -<i>Thou shalt not kill</i>, I never roared out with a wide mouth, as the -priests of the <i>Roman Church</i>, persecute, imprison, kill, destroy, force -them to obey. My fury came only from your brethren, who had so -thoroughly corrupted me, that I thought Heaven would be my reward, if I -butcher’d all they were pleased to stigmatize with heresy. So I gave a -loose to my passions, as you may read in history, where, I think, they -have used me but too kindly. To seduce men of weak understandings is no -extraordinary matter; but that princes, who ought to have a competent -knowledge of every thing, should be cheated by you, is a miracle to me. -No age of the world ever saw a greater example of it, than in my master -<i>Philip</i>, whose natural sloth, and besotted bigottry, gave so fair a -field to these ecclesiastical impostors, so fair an opportunity to -manage him as they pleased; and his father’s <a id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> ashes are a sufficient -proof of it. Instead of setting before his eyes the example of that -invincible prince, these sanctify’d villains only plunged him deeper in -superstition and idolatry. And as a domineering lazy lord of a country -village, will never go out of his own parish, so he never travelled -farther than from <i>Madrid</i> to the <i>Escurial</i>. His wife, father, son, and -brother, felt the effects of their barbarous doctrine. And, to leave<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_66">{66}</a></span> -behind him a pious idea of his soul, when he was dying, he ordered his -crown and coffin to be set before him. This was hypocrisy with a -witness, but that is no crime in a zealot. You’ll tell me perhaps, I -direct my discourse to improper persons, who know not the history of -<i>Philip</i> of <i>Austria</i>, ignorance being common enough in those of your -fraternity, yet let me tell you, I am not mistaken; for the diabolical -spirit that now possesses you, is the very same that influenced the -priests of my time; and I may safely affirm, that <i>France</i> is the -theatre of cruelty and iniquity. Your monarch, who is much such another -saint as my master, spares the poor Protestants lives, for no other -reason, but to make, by his inhuman torments, death more desirable to -them. These, and a thousand more unjust actions does he commit, to -satiate your hellish vanity, which would for ever domineer in the city -built on seven mountains. To this you will answer, What doth it signify -if we make him persecute the Protestants, murther their kings, and keep -no faith or treaties with them, since it encreases our power, and -propagates our religion? But, gentlemen, when you come to be where I am, -you will, I’m certain, sing another tune.</p> - -<h2><a id="The_Answer_of_the_Clergy_of_France_to_the_Duke_of_Alva"></a><i>The Answer of the</i> <span class="smcap">Clergy</span> <i>of</i> <span class="smcap">France</span> <i>to the Duke of</i> <span class="smcap">Alva</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">H</span>AD you made as sincere a confession in the days of yore, as you do now, -you might, for your zeal in persecuting heresy, have obtain’d an ample -absolution of all your sins, tho’ they had been never so numerous and -black, and been a glorious saint in the <i>Roman</i> calendar; which induces -us to believe, your zeal tended rather towards the propagation of your -own power and interest, than that of the church. Thus in cheating us, -you likewise cheated yourself; and we are not sorry at your calamities. -But, does it become you, who once fill’d <i>Flanders</i> and <i>Spain</i> with -horror, to reproach the apostolick legions with the noble effects of -their fervency? And was it not absolutely necessary, after we had once -preached the destruction of the Protestants, that <i>Lewis</i> the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_67">{67}</a></span> Great, to -compleat his glory, and our satisfaction, should send his holy troops to -burn, ravish, and pillage at discretion; that he might say with an -emperor of <i>Rome</i>, whom he very much resembles, <i>Let them hate, so they -fear me</i>? Where, Sir, do you find us commanded to keep faith with -hereticks, or suffer their princes to live, when ’tis against our -interest? Does not the <i>Roman</i> church dispense with these little -<i>peccadillo’s</i>? And are not those who wear her cloth, and eat her bread, -oblig’d to obey her precepts? What pleases us most is to hear a whining -recreant as thou art, sing <i>peccavi</i> at this time of day, and pretend to -remorse of conscience. For your comfort, you may desire <i>Cerberus</i>, if -you please, to join in the consort with you; but rest assured, that if -you had three mouths like that triple-headed cur, your barking would be -all in vain.</p> - -<h2><a id="Philip_of_Austria_to_the_Dauphine"></a><span class="smcap">Philip</span> <i>of</i> <span class="smcap">Austria</span> <i>to the</i> <span class="smcap">Dauphine</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">W</span>HAT do you mean, worthy kinsman, by pretending to be a man of honour! -Does it become a person of your birth? Do you find any precedent for it -in your family? Did your father make himself formidable by it? Or do you -find in history, that any merciful or generous prince made himself so -great, or reigned so prosperously for almost sixty years, as your -debauched and perjured father has done, who is now the terror and -scourge of <i>Europe</i>, and will be its tyrant, if treachery and gold can -prevail? But do you think those things to be crimes in sovereigns? If he -has indulg’d his lust, does he not severely persecute heresy? And -besides, does not his <a id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> mistress constantly pray and offer sacrifice? -You know she’s old enough to be prudent, and lives upon the gravity of -her age, since she stretches her devotion, even to the stage, by the -same token, she will suffer none of her husband’s <a id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> diverting farces -to be acted there any more. Thank Heaven therefore for sending you that -bountiful patroness from the <a id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> new world, who is<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_68">{68}</a></span> the comfort and -preservation of your father and his kingdoms; and tho’ your mother was -my near relation, yet I am not ashamed to see so pure and zealous a -saint supply her place in the royal bed. I wonder she has not yet -prevailed with you to have more regard for the interest of the <i>Roman -Church</i>; to promote the grandeur, whereof I destroy’d many thousands of -its enemies, by the ministry of the duke of <i>Alva</i>, and order’d my -father’s bones to be dug out of the ground and burnt, for having -tolerated <i>Luther</i>’s heresy. Otherwise I should never have concern’d -myself about it, supposing none but flegmatick coxcombs would espouse a -church which does not keep open house all the year round, and won’t -pardon the greatest crimes for money. You know, I don’t doubt, what my -jealousy cost my <a id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> son and <a id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> wife, and how I treated the <a id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> -conqueror at <i>Levanto</i>: to balance that account with Heaven, I gave -largely to the priests, built monasteries, went to processions, was -loaded like a mule with beads and relicks, and by this means passed for -a saint. And this I think may properly enough be called a good religion. -’Tis true, I never saw any engagement but in my closet, or at a -distance, like your prudent father: what then, does the world talk less -of me, or him for that? The end of my life, I must confess, was -something singular, for the worms serv’d an execution upon my carcase -before the time; and so we hear they do his. But what does that signify, -so a man satisfies his own humour? Be not infatuated then with -vain-glory; for if they, who are exempt from the flames of hell, boast -of having angels, saints, and martyrs for their companions, we can brag -of having popes, cardinals, emperors, kings, queens, jesuits, monks, and -priests in abundance. I must own, our walks have not the charming -fountains and shades of <a id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> <i>Versailles</i>, and the <i>Escurial</i>; and that -it is always as hot weather with us here, as with the good folks under -the <i>Torrid Zone</i>: but such a trifle as this ought not to make you shun -the company of so many choice friends, as have an entire affection for -you.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_69">{69}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a id="The_Dauphines_Answer_To_Philip_of_Austria"></a>The <span class="smcap">Dauphine’s</span> Answer To <span class="smcap">Philip</span> of Austria.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><i><span class="letra">N</span>either the examples you have quoted, nor those which are daily before -my eyes, have power enough to pervert me, I have a veneration for -virtue, which you, forsooth, call the quality of a coxcomb; and an -abhorrence for all that bears the stamp of vice, tho’ you have -illustrated it with the prosperous and glorious reign of the</i> French -<i>monarch. But were the first unknown to me, I would not look for it in -your life; since, according to your best friends, it is a thing you -never practised. As sons have no authority to condemn the conduct of -their fathers, so I will not presume to examine into that of</i> Lewis XIV. -<i>But tell me, I beseech you, what advantages you reaped from your -bigottry and superstition? For my part, had I some of the ashes of every -saint, in the</i> Roman Calendar, <i>in my snuff-box, and carried beads as -big as cannon-bullets about me, I should not believe myself either a -better christian, or less exposed to danger. But to what purpose did -you, who never exposed your royal person in battle, arm yourself with -all those imaginary preservatives? Or can you say they defended you from -being devoured alive by millions of vermine, that punished you in this -life, for the iniquities you daily committed, and were only the prelude -to more terrible punishment. Let not my indifference for the church of</i> -Rome <i>break your rest; I have no power at present, and I can’t tell what -my sentiments would be, had I a crown on my head: but it now cruelly -troubles me, to see</i> France <i>so weakened by the dispersion of so many -thousand innocent people: and did my opinion signify any more in our -councils than wind, I would advise the recalling of them. But the nymph, -you see, with so much satisfaction, supply the place of your grandchild, -and who has more power now than ever, is there as absolute as a</i> -dictator. <i>The</i> French <i>monarchy, which has subsisted for so many ages, -might be still supported without her; she being good for nothing that I -know of, but to instruct youth in the nicest ways of debauchery; -therefore I could wish the king would transport her to her native soil, -and make<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_70">{70}</a></span> her governess of the</i> American <i>monkies; a fitter employment -for her than that she usurps over our princesses. To deal plainly with -you, I have no ambition to see your jesty, being satisfy’d with knowing -you from publick report; so will carefully avoid coming near your</i> -torrid zone, <i>if ’tis possible for a man to be any time a king of</i> -France, <i>without it</i>.</p> - -<h2><a id="Juvenal_to_Boileau"></a><span class="smcap">Juvenal</span> <i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Boileau</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">S</span>INCE we don’t dispatch couriers every day from the kingdom of <i>Pluto</i>, -you ought not to be surprized, that I have not had an opportunity till -now, of telling you what sticks in my stomach. I thought your first -satires very admirable, your expressions just and laboriously turn’d, -yet charming and natural. Were the distribution of rewards in my power, -I should certainly give you something for your <i>Art of Poetry</i>: but for -your <i>Lutrin</i>, that master-piece of your wit, that highest effort of -your imagination, I see nothing in it worthy of you, but the -verification. Every one owns you can write, nay, your very enemies allow -it; but you know a metamorphosis requires an entire change; therefore, -since you resolve to imitate <i>Virgil</i>, you should have made choice of -noble heroes. He that travestied the <i>Æneis</i>, understood it better than -you, and did not fatigue himself so much; and as he was a man of clear -and good sense, has judiciously remark’d, that his queen disguised like -a country-wench, is infinitely beyond your clockmaker’s wife dress’d -like an empress. But let us leave this subject, which now it is too late -to amend, since what is done cannot be undone. What did you mean, you I -say, who have been accused of stealing my lines, and who, to deal -honestly with you, have often followed the same road I have traced? What -did you mean, I say, by reflecting on particulars in your satire against -women: Did I ever set you that example? Is not my sixth satire against -the sex in general; and when I look back as far as the reigns of -<i>Saturn</i> and <i>Rhea</i> for <a id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a> modesty, do I pretend the least shadow of -it is left upon the earth? Unthinking<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_71">{71}</a></span> fool! those different characters -you have drawn, will make you so many particular enemies; and I -question, if the patroness you have chosen can secure you from their -claws.</p> - -<p>If an affected zeal inspires you with so much veneration for a saint of -the <i>Italian</i> fashion, in truth you ought to have burnt your incense so -privately, that the smoke might not have offended others. How can the -bard that boasts of eating no flesh in <i>Lent</i>, that would frankly -discipline himself in the face of the godly, like one of the <a id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> -militia of St. <i>Francis</i>, adore a golden cow, and adorn an idol each -blast of wind can overthrow, with those garlands which should be -preserv’d for <i>the statues of the greatest heroes</i>! She is, it is true, -very singular in her kind; but will you stain your name, of <i>illustrious -poet</i>, by creeping before a walking mummy of her superannuated -gallantry? your sordid interest has made you a traytor to <i>Satire</i>; and -thereby you occasion here continual divisions, <a id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> <i>Chaquelian</i> and -<i>St. Amant</i> have been at cuffs with <a id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> <i>Moliere</i> and <i>Cornielle</i>, -because you have not treated them so civilly as your <a id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> <i>Urgande</i>. The -two first ridicule your sordid covetous humour, and say you learnt that -baseness while you belong’d to the <i>Register’s Office</i>. The other two, -who were perhaps of your trade, defend the honour of your extraction. -But <i>St. Amant</i><a id="FNanchor_32_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a>, who will never forget the unworthy character you -have given him concerning his poverty, which he swears is false; and -submitting his verses to the judgment of unprejudiced persons, for which -you ridicule him, said in a haughty tone, (which set us all a laughing) -that when he was a gentleman of the chamber in ordinary to the queen of -<i>Poland</i>, and embassador extraordinary at the coronation of the queen of -<i>Sweden</i>, he kept several footmen of better quality than yourself. -<i>Chaquelian</i>, who cannot say so much for himself, is content with -singing the terrible valour of the duke <i>de Nevers</i>’s lackeys, who kept -time with their cudgels on your shoulders. We were forced to call for a -bottle to appease this war; and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_72">{72}</a></span> <i>St. Amant</i>, taking the glass in his -hand, swore by his maker, he had rather you had call’d him drunkard than -fool, tho’ he drinks very moderately in this place, where it is no great -scandal to be thirsty. Be not concerned at this paragraph, because the -rest of my letter sufficiently testifies the esteem I have for you, and -my concern for your welfare: therefore to preserve both, renounce your -sordid way of praising vice, and employ your happy talent in teaching -good manners, and correcting the bad, which will be an employment worthy -of your great genius, and is the only way to recommend you to the good -opinion of the learned ancients.</p> - -<h2><a id="Boileaus_Answer_to_Juvenal"></a><span class="smcap">Boileau</span><i>’s Answer to</i> <span class="smcap">Juvenal</span>.</h2> - -<p><i>Illustrious Ghost</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">A</span> Messenger from the Muses never fill’d me with so much transport, as -the first sight of your letter; but I had not read six lines, before I -wish’d you had never done me that honour. To praise my <i>Satires</i> and -fall foul upon my <i>Lutrin</i> (which made me sweat more drops of water, -than your drunkard <i>St. Amant</i> (since I must call him so) ever drank of -wine) is no favour. After many laborious and fruitless endeavours, -finding, to my great grief and distraction, I could not match you in -wit, I resolv’d if possible to out-do you in malice, which made me take -the liberty of romancing a little on <i>St. Amant</i>, falling foul upon -people’s characters and manners, and treating several scurvy poets more -roughly than you did the <i>Theseis</i> of <i>Codrus</i>, when you sang,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Semper ego auditor tantum nunquamne reponam?</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Vexatus toties rauci Therseide Codri?</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Thus suffering the gall of my heart to flow thro’ the channel of my pen, -I procur’d myself enemies in abundance, and since I must confess all to -you, some stripes with a bull’s-pizzle, which was a most terrible -mortification to my shoulders; but I bore all this with the patience of -a philosopher, as will appear by the following lines.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_73">{73}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Let</i> Codrus <i>that nauseous pretender to wit,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Condemn all my works before courtier and cit;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I bear all with patience, whatever he says,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And value as little his scandal as praise.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Vain-glory no longer my genius does fire,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>’Tis interest alone tunes the strings of my lyre.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Integrity’s nought but a plausible sham,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For money I praise, and for money I damn.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Old politic bards, for fame have no itching,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>The</i> Apollo <i>I court, is the steam of a kitchin</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>The four first lines, I must own, are something against the grain; and -the natural inclination I have to rail, and be thought an excellent -poet, gives my tongue the lie; but the four last, which shew more -prudence than wit, reconcile that matter. ’Tis certainly, illustrious -bard, more difficult to please the world now than it was in your time; -for if I write satire, I am beaten for it; if I praise, I am call’d a -mercenary flatterer, which so disheartens me, that I address myself now -to my Gardener only; and do not doubt but some busy nice critick will be -censuring this poem also. Not being in the best humour when I writ it, -perhaps it may appear something dark and abstruse; but I can easily -excuse that, by maintaining that ’tis impossible for the best author in -the world to keep up always to the same strain, Have you ever heard of -the tales of the <i>Peau d’Asne</i>, & <i>Grisedilis</i>? if <i>Proserpine</i> had any -little children, ’twould be a most agreeable diversion for them, and I -wou’d send it ’em for a present. Tho’ that author furnishes you with -sufficient matter to laugh at me, yet I must confess he has found the -art of making something of a trifle. Every one here learns his verses by -heart; and in spight of my translation of <i>Longinus</i>, which makes it so -plainly appear, I understand <i>Greek</i>, and know something of poetry, my -book begins to be despis’d. Wou’d it not break a Man’s heart to see such -impertinent stuff preferr’d before so many sublime pieces? But, as for -your glory that will eternally subsist, and nothing can destroy it, -since time has not already done it.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_74">{74}</a></span></p> - -<h2><span class="smcap">Diana</span> <i>of</i> Poictiers, <i>Mistress to</i> <span class="smcap">Hen.</span> II. <i>of</i> France, <i>to Madam</i> -<span class="smcap">Maintenon</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">S</span>INCE the spirit of curiosity possesses us here in this world, no less -than it did in your’s, ’tis an infinite trouble for those persons, -Madam, who were acquainted with every thing while they liv’d, not to -know all that passes after their death; and of this you’ll one day make -an experiment. I am not desirous to know, Madam, what you have done to -succeed the greatest beauties of the earth, in the affection of an old -libidinous monarch, nor what charms you make use of to secure the -possession of his heart, at an age you cannot please without a miracle. -My planet, dear Madam, has rendered me somewhat knowing in these -affairs, for <i>Henry</i> II. was my gallant as long as he liv’d; and tho’ I -was little handsomer than you, I was not, I think, much younger. But I -must tell you, I cannot comprehend what procures you those loud -commendations and applauses which reach even to our ears, and are by -their noise most horribly offensive to us. The advantages of my birth -were great; and it is well known my charms so captivated <i>Francis</i> I. -that they redeem’d my father from the gallows. I marry’d a very -considerable man, and the name of <i>Breze Reneschal</i> of <i>Normandy</i>, -sounds somewhat better than that of <i>Scarron the queen’s ballad-maker</i>. -The house of <i>Poictiers</i> too, from which I was descended, may surely -take place of those monarchs from whom that mercenary fellow <i>Boileau</i> -derives your extraction; and lastly, if I had a few particular enemies, -I did nothing to make myself generally odious. Yet for all this, I was -neither canoniz’d nor prais’d, but openly laugh’d at, and by one of my -own profession, I mean the duchess of <i>Estampe</i>, who was mistress to the -father of my lover, and said she was born on my wedding-day. Blundering -impudent <i>Bayard</i> was banish’d for speaking too freely of me; and tho’ -it was said, <i>That for me alone beauty had the privilege not to grow -old</i>, the compliment was so forc’d, that I was little the better for it. -Ragged <i>Marot</i> was the only poet that ever pretended to couple rhimes in -my praise;<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_75">{75}</a></span> and I will appeal to you if he did not deserve to go naked.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>I dare not, (were’t to save my ransom)</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Affirm your ladyship is handsome;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Nor, without telling monstrous lyes,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Defend the lightning of your eyes;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For, Madam, to declare the truth,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>You’ve neither face, nor shape, nor youth.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Howe’er, all flattery apart,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>You’ve plaid your cards with wond’rous art.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>When young, no lover saw your charms.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Or press’d you in his eager arms:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>But triumphs your old age attend,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And you begin where others end.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>What think you, Madam, of this, is it not rather satire than praise? -Shou’d the bard, that sings your virtues from the top of <i>Parnassus</i> -down to the market-place, be as sincere, how wou’d you reward him? Tho’ -I know he has more prudence, yet I cannot believe he compares you to -<i>Helen</i> for beauty, to <i>Hebe</i> for youth, for chastity to <i>Lucretia</i>, for -courage to <i>Clelia</i>, and for wisdom to <i>Minerva</i>, as common report says; -because, were it true, it is not to be suppos’d you would have but a -poor deform’d poet in possession of such mighty treasures. For were -there not scepters and crowns then enticing? Were not then the eyes of -princes open? Did you chuse an author for your love, out of caprice or -despair? Did you take his wicker-chair for a throne? Or did the love of -philosophy draw you in? Had the latter wrought upon you, you would not -have been the first, I must confess; for the famous <i>Hirparchia</i>, -handsome, young, and rich, preferr’d poor crooked <i>Crates</i> before the -wealthiest and most beautiful gentleman of <i>Greece</i>. I am unwilling to -judge uncharitably, but I cannot be perswaded that such an alliance -could be contracted without some pressing necessity. When I reflect on -the beginning, increase, and circumstances of your fortune, I am -astonish’d? for neither your hair, which was grey when you began to -grow<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_76">{76}</a></span> in favour; nor the remembrance of <a id="FNanchor_33_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> a vestal once adorned; nor -the idea of a <a id="FNanchor_34_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a> blooming beauty, whom cruel death suddenly snatch’d -away by the help of a little poison; nor the presence of a <a id="FNanchor_35_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a> rival, -by so much the more dangerous, because she had triumph’d over several -others, could prove any obstacles to your prosperity. The beautiful lady -that brought you out of your mean obscurity; and in whose service you -thought yourself happy, is now content if you let her enjoy the least -shew of her former greatness. In this Chaos I lose myself, Madam; but if -you will bring me out of my confusion, I faithfully promise to give you -an exact account of all that concerns me, when I shall have the pleasure -of embracing you. I exceedingly commend your prudent conduct; for those -young plants you cultivate in a <a id="FNanchor_36_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> terrestial paradice, will one day -produce flowers to crown you; and the zeal you profess for a religion -which began to act furiously in my time, must stop the mouths of the -nicest bigots, and make the tribunal of confession favourable to you; -tho’ perhaps, dear Madam, it may make that of <i>Minos</i> a little more -severe.</p> - -<h2><a id="Madam_Maintenons_Answer_to_Diana_of_Poictiers"></a><i>Madam</i> <span class="smcap">Maintenon</span><i>’s Answer to</i> <span class="smcap">Diana</span> <i>of</i> Poictiers.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">C</span>Uriosity, Madam, being the character of the great and busy, I will -answer you according to your merit and birth, tho’ you have not treated -me so, since you know what charms a lover when youth is gone; I will -dismiss that point to come to the history of my life, and the virtuous -actions I am prais’d for. I know you are of an antient family, that you -marry’d a man of power and riches; and that you were <i>Francis</i> the -First’s bedfellow, before his son fell in love with you. As for me, I -was born in the <a id="FNanchor_37_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a> new world, under a favourable constellation; and -the offspring of a Jaylor’s daughter, with whom my father, tho’ of royal -blood, was oblig’d, ei<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_77">{77}</a></span>ther thro’ love, or rather necessity, to cohabit. -Fortune, which never yet forsook me, first deprived me of my beggarly -relations, without leaving me wherewithal to cover my nakedness, and -then brought me into <i>Europe</i>, where I found a great many lovers, and -few husbands. Poor deform’d <i>Scarron</i> at last offer’d me his hand; I had -my reasons for accepting him, and his infirmities did not hinder me from -receiving that title which was convenient for one in my circumstances. -In short, I lost him without much concern; and liv’d so prudently during -my widowhood, that Madam <i>Montespan</i> took me out of my cell, to bring me -into the intrigues of the court. Every one knows I drove my generous -patroness from the royal bed; and that since my being in favour, I have -been profusely liberal to all my idolaters. Our poets, who do not -resemble <i>Marot</i>, value not honour, provided they have good pensions, -which I generously bestow on them, and they repay me in panegyricks; by -which means I am handsome, young, chaste, virtuous, wise, and of as -noble blood as <i>Alexander</i> the Great. Tho’ I was a Protestant, the -church is not so foolish as to enquire into my religion, thus out of a -principle of gratitude, and to fix her in my interest, I have fill’d the -heart of our monarch with the godly zeal of persecution. I have also -founded a stately <a id="FNanchor_38_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> edifice, where I breed up a great many pretty -young virgins, who, no doubt on’t, will prove as modest and discreet as -their founder; and I play so well the part of a queen, that the world -thinks me so in reality. These few hints may give you some light into my -history, Madam, therefore to reward my sincerity, if you find <i>Minos</i> -dispos’d to use me severely, prepare him, I beseech you, to be more -favourable.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang"><span class="smcap">Hugh Spencer</span> <i>the younger, Minion of</i> <span class="smcap">Edward II.</span> <i>to all the -Favourites and Ministers whom it may concern</i>.</p></div> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">L</span>ET all those that are ambitious of the title of favourite learn by the -history of my life, how dan<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_78">{78}</a></span>gerous a folly it is to monopolize their -prince’s smiles. A man climbs to the top of this slippery ascent thro’ a -thousand difficulties; and if he is not moderate in his prosperity, -(which few are) he often falls with a more precipitated shame into -disgrace. I acquir’d, or rather usurp’d, the favour of <i>Edward</i> II. in -whose breast the proud <i>Gaveston</i> had before me licentiously revell’d. -To effect this, my father lent me his helping hand; but without growing -wiser by the examples of others, the vanity of my ambition made me -follow that wandring star, call’d fortune. I no sooner had possess’d -myself of the king’s ear, but I crept into the secrets of his heart, and -infected it with the blackest venom of mine; acting the part of a -self-interested, not an honest minister. As I valued not the glory of -his reign, or ease of his people, provided I governed him, and render’d -myself master of his treasures; so did I never move him to relieve the -miserable, or reward the faithful and deserving, but endeavour’d to -blacken the merit of their greatest actions, and so settled the first -motions of his liberality, with reasons of sordid interest. If any -places of trust were to be fill’d, covering my treachery still with the -veil of zeal and love for my country, I recommended only such as were -devoted to my service; pretending ill management in every thing that -went not thro’ my hands; and that the nation was betray’d, whilst I, -like some of you now, was selling it, and was in reality the worst enemy -it had. After I had sacrific’d the great duke of <i>Lancaster</i> to my -revenue, and a hundred persons of quality besides, I sow’d discord in -the royal family, The queen, with the prince of <i>Wales</i> her son, and the -earl of <i>Kent</i>, the king’s brother, retir’d into <i>France</i>; during which -time I govern’d at my ease, wallow’d in luxury and riches, and had -interest enough to hinder <i>Charles</i> the Fair from protecting his sister. -The Pope, who was of my religion, storm’d like a true father, son of the -church, and so frighted the king of <i>France</i>, that in spite of their -nearness of blood, he hunted the queen of <i>England</i> out of his -dominions. But at last the king being reconciled, the queen returns; I -was taken prisoner, and by the laws of the kingdom, sentenc’d to be -drawn on a sledge, at sound of trumpet, thro’ the streets of <i>Hereford</i>. -The circumstances of my<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_79">{79}</a></span> death were infamous; my head was expos’d at -<i>London</i>, my bowels, heart, and some others parts of body burn’d, my -carcass abandon’d to the crows, in four parts of the kingdom; the -justest reward a villain, who had almost destroy’d both king and country -cou’d expect. This is, gentlemen, favourites and ministers, a picture -you ought all to have in your closets, to keep you from resembling it. -When in favour, banish not justice, clemency and generosity, from the -thrones of your master; and to avoid a just hatred, and make men of -virtue your friends, study the publick interest. Turn over old histories -and you’ll find there is scarce one, or few of us, got peaceably to the -grave, but either starv’d or rotted, or immortaliz’d a gibbet. Not one -eye ever wept for our sufferings, pity itself rejoiced. Thus detested on -earth, and curs’d by heaven, our last refuge is to become the prey of -devils. Consider well, gentlemen, and arm yourselves against all those -vicious passions, which will certainly undo you, if you listen to them -as I did. Therefore in the slippery paths of a court, take prudence and -justice for your supports.</p> - -<h2><a id="The_Answer_of_the_Chief_Ministers_of_the_King_of_Iveter_to_Hugh"></a><i>The Answer of the Chief Ministers of the King of</i> Iveter <i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh -Spencer</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HE picture you have drawn of your life and death, shews you were -notoriously wicked, and rewarded according to your deserts. But let me -tell you, Sir, that ’tis a great mistake to believe a minister cannot -manage or steer his prince, without abusing him and the publick. Because -you were the horror of your age, is it an inevitable destiny for other -favourites to be so too? I will not here make my own panegyrick, but -leave that care to posterity: However, I will boldly maintain, that to -suffer a master to divide his benevolence, when one can secure it all to -ones self, is folly and stupidity. A prudent man knows how to make a -right use of his master’s weakness; and if he finds him inclin’d now and -then to gratify eminent services, he will not seem much averse to it, -provided still he loses nothing by the bargain: But if his prince is of -a covetous temper, charity, which always be<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_80">{80}</a></span>gins at home, then bids him -shut up his <i>Exchequer</i>, and reserve to himself the sole privilege of -opening it at leisure. ’Tis likewise no ill step in our politicks to cry -down those actions, which might otherwise by their weight out-value -ours: Upon such occasions to testify the least zeal, fidelity and care, -will be thought meritorious. Tho’ the escutcheons we leave our children, -have some blots in them, what signifies that, provided we leave them -rich and noble titles, which will procure them honour, and all sorts of -pleasures in this world, and a saint’s place hereafter, in that -uncertain volume of the <i>Roman Almanack</i>.</p> - -<h2><a id="Julia_to_the_Princess_of_Conti"></a><span class="smcap">Julia</span> <i>to the Princess of</i> <span class="smcap">Conti</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">A</span>S you may wonder, madam, that I who lived so many ages ago, and at -present am so many thousand leagues from you, should esteem and love -you; might I wonder too, in my turn, if you should have a good opinion -of me, after so many historians have conspired to blacken my reputation. -But there are, dear sister, such circumstances in our fortunes, as ought -to make us love one another, and hold a friendly correspondence; since -you are like me, the daughter of a beautiful, treacherous prince, who -drags good fortune at his heels; and of a mother who renounced the world -before it did her the injury of renouncing her. I was once the ornament -of the court of <i>Augustus</i>, and you now shine like a star, in that of -<i>Lewis</i> XIV. I was marry’d very young to <i>Marcellus</i>, the hopes of the -<i>Romans</i>; and almost in your infancy, you were given to the most amiable -man that ever was of the <i>Bourbons</i>: I lost the son of <i>Octavia</i> some -months after our marriage, and your forehead was bound with the fatal -sable, before <i>Hymen</i>’s garlands were in the least withered; you are -handsome, I was not ugly; you occasion jealousy, and I suffer’d the -sharpest darts of destruction: I had lovers beyond number; and who is -able to reckon your’s? They have not perhaps been so favourably -received; and I believe the air, and want of opportunity, not our -inclinations, to be the cause, for you never yet despis’d those -pleasures I daily enjoy’d and sigh’d after; and tho’ by the death of -<i>Agrippa</i>, I came under the tyranny of <i>Tiberius</i>,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_81">{81}</a></span> I pursu’d my -inclinations to the last. Widows of your age generally enter the list -again: But, princess, the counsel I have to give you, is, to reserve to -yourself the liberty of your choice. There are so many <i>Tiberius</i>’s -where you are, that one may easily fall to your share, and after that -nothing but banishment will be wanting to finish the comparison. A very -malignant <a id="FNanchor_39_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a> planet at present commands your destiny; and ’tis in vain -to expect justice from that jealous, ill-natur’d fury. Now I have given -you advice, which, if I could return into the world, I would follow -myself, permit me to justify my actions.</p> - -<p>Historians tell you, I endeavoured to reign in every heart, whatever it -cost me, without any regard to the owner’s birth and condition: But do -you think that so very criminal? Does a little kindness deserve so -severe a censure? Must persons of quality be always oblig’d to have an -eye on their dignity? and did not he that made the prince, make the -coachman? But what I cannot with patience suffer, is the impudent lie -some have made concerning <i>Ovid</i>; that versifyer had a nicer fancy in -poetry than beauty; like your father, <i>My dear sister</i>, he imagin’d -wonderful charms in grey hairs; for <i>Marcellus</i> was but newly dead when -he fell in love with <i>Livia</i>. ’Twas her he celebrated under the feigned -name of <i>Corinna</i>; and when he pleas’d, disciplin’d, she, like a child -not daring to resist. Thus people being ignorant of closer privacies, -invent malicious lies; for do you suppose I would have suffer’d such -insolent usage? And that if I had not been strong enough to have cuff’d -that rhiming puppy, I would not have found out some other way to have -been even with him? You very well see my reasons have some appearance of -truth, and I am confident, that when we meet we shall agree very well. -The emperor who had his private amours, never troubled those of his -wife; and <i>Merena</i>’s spouse, proud of possessing the affections of so -great a monarch, returned in soft embraces the favours bestowed on her -husband. I have insensibly made you an ingenuous consession; do you the -same, madam, for hell is so damnable tiresome, that I gape and stretch a -thousand times an hour. When your hand is in, pray send me word<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_82">{82}</a></span> what -they are doing in your part of the world; but above all, give me a true -account of your amours and conquests; for those relations tickle us, -even when we have lost the power of acting. Therefore to invite you to -be very plain with me, as likewise to divert myself in my present -melancholy moments, I will give you some of my thoughts in metre, such -as it is.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>A mighty monarch you begot,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Who’s pious as the devil;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Your mother too, by all is thought,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>To be extreamly civil.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Descending from so bright a pair,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>You both their gifts inherit;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>All your great father’s virtue share,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And all your mother’s merit.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>When I was young and gay like you,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>I lov’d my recreation</i>;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mamma’s <i>dear steps I did pursue,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And balk’d no inclination</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>And, madam, when your charms are gone,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Your lovers will forsake you;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>They’ll cry your sporting days are done,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And bid old</i> Pluto <i>take you</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Thus I have given all trading o’er.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And wisely left off sporting;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Resolv’d to practise it no more,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>After my reign of courting.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>As reproaching and talking freely is not here discouraged; so had I done -any lewd trick, your confessor wou’d have acquainted you with it; for he -keeps a strict correspondence with the chiefest ministers of our -monarch. You have been jealous where you ought not, and the saints of -<i>St. Germains</i> and <i>Versailles</i>, when they come to discover the mystery -of your curiosity, will never forgive you. The mealy mouth’d Goddess was -always easy to be corrupted, and the old monster Envy prospers but too -much;<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_83">{83}</a></span> therefore take care of one, and prevent the other, that the sins -of others may not be imputed to you. All that the world can say against -your virtue, shall never diminish my good opinion of it; and if you do -not believe the character I give of myself, consult <a id="FNanchor_40_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> <i>Calprinede</i>, -who has drawn me to the life, and was a great master in that way, as -<i>Apelles</i> in his. Farewel, fair princess, and remember that <i>Julia</i> -languishes with desire to see you.</p> - -<h2><a id="The_Princess_of_Contis_Answer_to_Julia"></a><i>The Princess of</i> <span class="smcap">Conti</span><i>’s Answer to</i> <span class="smcap">Julia</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> Did not expect to be honoured with a letter from so famous a princess -as <i>Julia</i>: This makes my joy so much the greater. I do sincerely -declare, that I take all you say to me so reasonable, that I can do no -less than applaud it: And I further assure you, that I never search’d -for your character in those disobliging authors who magnify the lest -false step, and make an elephant of a mouse. I am satisfy’d to know you, -as I find you in <i>Calprinede</i>; and the complaisance he pretends you had -for <i>Ovid</i>, does not hinder me from having a great affection for your -amiable qualities; and believing as advantageously of your modesty as -you can desire. I am not so severe as to imagine a little indulgence can -be a greater crime; but think those who will, for a little natural -civility, ruin the reputation of courteous ladies, to be malicious -people, only envying those gallantries which are addressed to others. -But, madam, you have strangely surprized me with what you tell me of -<i>Livia</i>; for I always believed, that when old ambition was her only -blind side; but am astonished to hear she was amorous. This discovery -confirms the received opinion, that old age has a wanton inclination, as -well as youth, tho’ not so much ability; and since the wife of <i>Cæsar</i> -lov’d the language of the muses, I am not astonished that our saints of -St. <i>Cyril</i> have been charm’d with it. But, dear madam, is it certain -that <i>Ovid</i> disciplin’d her like a child; I thought the <i>Roman</i> ladies -had not wanted that exercise; and I believe my gallants will never be -obliged to come to that extremity with me. I need<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_84">{84}</a></span> not use much -precaution against the folly of a second marriage; for tho’ I was -coupled to a very charming young man, yet I soon found my expectations -bilk’d, because the name of husband and wife, and thoughts of duty so -lessened the pleasures of our softest embraces, that it made them -odious. So that now I only love a spouse for a night, from whom I may be -divorced the next morning; and this perhaps, you’ll find more plainly -expressed in the following lines, as I doubt not, dearest sister, but -you have made the experiment.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>Your tender girls, when first their hands,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Are join’d in</i> Hymen<i>’s magick bands.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Fondly believe they shall maintain</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>A long, uninterrupted reign:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>But to their cost, too soon they prove,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>That marriage is the bane of love.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>That phantom</i>, duty, <i>damps its fire.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And clips the wings of fierce desire.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>But lovers in a different strain</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Express, as well as ease their pain:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Ever smiling, ever fair,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>To please us is their only care,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And as their flame finds no decay,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>They only covet we should pay</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>In the same coin, and that you know,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Is always in our pow’r to do.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>And will be always so, illustrious princess, to our great comfort and -satisfaction. You have heard, I suppose, what the writing of a few -letters has cost me; so that I have laid aside all commerce of that -nature at present, and am often oblig’d to trifle my thoughts. Had I not -fear’d <i>Mercury</i>’s being searched, I would have opened my heart a little -more to you; but if the times ever change, or madam <i>Maintenon</i>, the -governess of <i>Versailles</i>, becomes less inquisitive, you may certainly -expect to receive an epistle, or rather a volume from me.</p> - -<p>I put no confidence in the king my father, and he is so jealous of me, -that should he pack up his awls for the other world, I wou’d not trust -him. I pity you for being<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_85">{85}</a></span> kept so close, and having so bad company. -That you may yawn and stretch less, and laugh a little more, entertain -yourself with <i>la Fontain</i>’s tales, or the school of <i>Venus</i>, both -excellent books in their kind, which I am confident will extreamly -divert you; not so much upon the account of their novelty, as by -recalling to your mind some past actions of your life.</p> - -<p>For my part, I highly esteem them both, and you’ll oblige by telling the -author so.</p> - -<h2><a id="Dionysius_the_Younger_to_the_Flatterers_of_what_Degree_or_Country"></a><span class="smcap">Dionysius</span> -<i>the Younger, to the Flatterers of what Degree or Country -soever</i>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HO’ the torments I now suffer for my former tyrannies, are as great as -they are just; yet you cursed villains, deserve much greater, for being -the promoters of them. You, with your infernal praises, blind the eyes -of princes, and hurry them on headlong to their ruin: therefore I charge -you with all the ill actions of my reign. I was no sooner seated on my -throne, but you so swell’d me with pride, by applauding all my -perjuries, oppressions and cruelties, that I believ’d it lawful for our -race to be tyrants, from father to son, with impunity. Every one knows -my father was equally wicked and covetous, neither sparing, or fearing -men or Gods; and of this <i>Jupiter</i> and <i>Æsculapius</i> are examples. In a -fit of impiety, till then unpractised by the most desperate villains, he -stripp’d the first of his golden mantle, excusing it with this jest, -<i>That ’twas too hot for the summer, and too cold for the Winter</i>. To the -second he turn’d barber and cut off his golden beard, which with great -devotion had been presented to him, alledging, <i>It was improper for the -son, since his father</i> Apollo <i>went without one</i>. When his conduct had -thus render’d him odious to the world he thought it necessary to make -himself secure; for which end, he ordered a large deep ditch to be dug -about his palace; but that was no fortification against fear, which -could creep in at every key-hole; and his distrust increased to that -degree, that he suspected his nearest relations. Not so much as a -<i>Maintenon</i> came near him. At last his guards to oblige the world, cut -his throat, and sent his soul as<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_86">{86}</a></span> a harbinger to the Devil, to provide -room for his body; and the people thinking me to be a much honester man, -without difficulty plac’d me on his throne. But I soon took care to -convince these credulous sots, that a worse was come in his room, far -exceeding him in cruelty, I endeavoured to secure my throne by actions -then unknown to the world. <i>First</i>, I caused my brothers to be put to -death, and when I had glutted myself with the blood of these victims, I -made no scruple to violate the laws, and trample upon all the just -rights and liberties of my people. By those and a thousand other -barbarities, tiring the patience of the <i>Syracusans</i>, they drove me into -<i>Italy</i>, where the <i>Locrians</i> kindly received me: and I to requite them -for their civility, ravish’d their women, murder’d numbers of their -citizens, and pillag’d their country. At last, by a now contrived -treachery, I re-entered <i>Syracuse</i>, with design to revenge myself by new -desolations; but <i>Dion</i> and <i>Timolion</i>, much honester men than either -myself or you, prevented me by putting me a second time to flight. ’Twas -my destiny, and I wonder historians do not add the epithet of coward, to -my just name of tyrant. I then retired to <i>Corinth</i>, where in a short -time my misery became so pressing, that I was forc’d to turn bum-brusher -in my own defence, a condition which best suited with a man that -delighted in tyranny and blood; and as I had been one of <i>Pluto</i>’s -disciples, I taught a sort of philosophy which I had learned, but never -practised. Thus was my throne turn’d into a desk; and my scepter into a -ferula. Heavens! what a shameful metamorphosis was this. But, gentlemen -sycophants, with a murrian to you, I may thank you for it. You, like the -<i>Cameleon</i>, can put on any colour, can turn vice into virtue, and virtue -into vice, to deceive your masters; and under the specious pretence of -religion can commit the greatest barbarities. But tho’ under the shelter -of that reverend name, you think all your iniquities undiscovered, so -you possess your prince with the abominable zeal of persecution; yet -heaven sees and detests your hypocrisy, and even men at long-run, -discover the cheat. Oh! ye unworthy enemies of virtue, whose only aim is -to raise your own fortunes upon the ruin of others. How useful are you -to the Devil? You matter it not, provided you compass your de<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_87">{87}</a></span>sired -ends; if we lay waste the universe, and afterwards become the hate and -scorn of all mankind: As for example, ’tis long of you that I have been -a pedant in <i>Greece</i>, and that <a id="FNanchor_41_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> one of my rank, had he not been -taken to rest, would have been forced to cover his follies under a -stinking cowl, in the lousy convent of <i>la Trape</i>. You will not fail, I -know, to applaud all his actions, and say, if he lost all, ’twas only -for obliging his subjects to take the true road to heaven, and give the -title of resignation to meer necessity and compulsion. But is it a -sacrifice to renounce thro’ despair, the grandeur we cannot maintain any -longer? Is it not rather imitating the <i>animal in the fable</i>, that -despises the grapes which are out of his reach? But I waste my lungs in -vain, and talk to the deaf: however, if I have been humbled, believe -that you will not always be exalted. ’Tis my comfort that you will one -day be condemned to turn a wheel like <i>Ixion</i>, to roll stones like -<i>Sysiphus</i>, to be devoured like <i>Prometheus</i>, continually thirsty like -<i>Tantalus</i>, and to heighten your evils, that you will never lose the -remembrance of those villanies you committed.</p> - -<h2><a id="The_Answer_of_the_News-Mongers_to_Young_Dionysius"></a><i>The Answer of the</i> News-Mongers <i>to Young</i> <span class="smcap">Dionysius</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HE flatterers have done you too much honour, Mr. <i>Pedant</i>, and shou’d -they believe you, and turn honest, (of which I think there is no great -danger) and perswade their masters to be just to their oaths and -treaties, wou’d not they govern in peace and unity? And wou’d not that -very thing cast the world into such a drowsy tranquility, that it wou’d -be melancholy living in it, and starve millions of all degrees and -professions, who now, lord it very handsomely? We, I’m sure, shou’d be -first sensible of it, by having no variety of news to stuff our <i>London -Gazettes</i>, <i>Mercuries</i> and <i>Slips</i> with; which wou’d make the -booksellers withdraw our stipends, and by consequence oblige us to leave -off tipping the generous juice of the grape, and content ourselves with -Geneva, or some more phlegmatick manufacture. Therefore keep your<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_88">{88}</a></span> -harangues for your school-boys, and do not maliciously take our daily -bread from us, and seek to ruin those complaisant persons, that can -condescend to sooth the vanities and inclinations of their princes. But -to dismiss this point, and return to yourself; ’tis plain you have not a -jot of honour about you, since you pay no regard to your father’s -reputation. We easily perceive you have been a <i>pedagogue</i> by your -tattling; which indiscretion makes you unworthy the title of great -<i>Pluto</i>’s disciple. But has your pedantick majesty no better rewards to -bestow on gentlemen of courtly breeding than wheels, vultures, -millstones, and an eternal thirst? Truly ’tis very liberal, and -school-master like in every respect; but you are desired to keep those -mighty blessings for yourself, who deserve them much better than any one -else; and if you were cullied by those about you, talk no more on’t, but -keep your weakness to yourself.</p> - -<h2><a id="Christiana_Queen_of_Sweden_to_the_Ladies"></a><span class="smcap">Christiana</span>, <i>Queen of</i> <span class="smcap">Sweden</span>, <i>to the Ladies</i>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HAT I, who never testify’d much esteem for the fair sex, should at this -time address myself to them, will without doubt be thought strange; but -if necessity breaks laws, it ought also to cancel aversion, and excuse -me for seeking protection amongst a sex I have so often despised, being -compelled to it by a thousand injuries done to my memory. Therefore I -now ask pardon of the ladies; and am perswaded I do them no little -honour, (since there has seldom been a more extraordinary woman than I -was) in owning myself one of the female kind. <i>First</i>, I may boast of -all the advantage of a glorious birth, being daughter of the <i>Great -Gustavus Adolphus</i>, who did not only fill the north, but all the -universe with admiration; and of <i>Mary Elianor</i> of <i>Brandenburgh</i>, the -worthy wife of such a husband. If I was not as handsome as <i>Helen</i>, and -those other beauties, whom the poets have from age to age recorded in -the book of fame, yet all the world own’d me a woman of incomparable -parts. I was queen at five years of age, and even so early took upon me -that important trust, which but few men are capable to dis<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_89">{89}</a></span>charge, and -which fewer would covet, if they knew the troubles that attend it; yet I -supported the weight of all affairs with such a grace and prudence, that -my crown did not seem too heavy for me. As soon as reason had made me -sensible of my power, my only thoughts were how to make myself worthy of -it. To this end, I invited to my court those I thought the most capable -of improving it; which was no sooner known by the beggary <i>French</i>, but -<i>Stockholm</i> swarm’d with masters of all sciences. Among the rest I had a -pack of hungry poets; but he that took the most pains, was not the best -rewarded, because he did not resemble <i>Boileau</i>, who can in half an hour -make a saint of a devil. In my green years, I seem’d only addicted to -grandeur and virtue; for I studied like a doctor, argued like a -philosopher, and gave lessons of morality to the most learned; so that -every body imagin’d I should eclipse the most famous <i>heroines</i>. But I -had not yet heard the voice of a certain deity, whose language I no -sooner understood, but it poison’d all my former good dispositions; for -whereas till then I had been charm’d with the conversation of the dead, -I began now to have passionate inclinations for the living. But not to -undeceive the world, which thought my conduct blameless, I was forc’d to -put a curb to my desires, or at least to pursue them with more -precaution, whether the trouble to find myself so inclin’d, or my -grandeur, which wou’d not allow of those liberties I sigh’d for, oblig’d -me to punish the flatterers of my passion, I know not; but I committed -many barbarities. As my desires were insatiable, so ’twas not in my -power to confine them; and this gave my subjects too many opportunities -to discover several indecencies in my management; and because I wou’d -not be tumbled headlong from my throne by them, I very prudently -condescended, and put my cousin <i>Charles Adolphus</i> in my place. Then did -I, under pretence of visiting the beauties of <i>France</i>, take large doses -of those joys I durst no longer take at <i>Stockholm</i>. I was treated every -where as a queen, had palaces at my command, and I made at -<i>Fountainbleau</i>, which was before a bawdy-house, a slaughter-house also -before I left it.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_90">{90}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>Fate justly reached the prattling fool,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For telling stories out of school.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Was’t not enough I stoop’d so low,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>On him m’affection to bestow?</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>To clasp him in my circling arms,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And feast him with love’s choicest charms;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>But must the babbling fool proclaim,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>His queen’s infirmity and shame?</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>Of all the sins on this side hell,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>The blackest sure’s to kiss and tell.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>’Tis silence best becomes delight,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And hides the revels of the night.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>If then my spark has met his due,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For bringing sacred mysteries to view.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>E’en let him take it for his pains,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And curse his want of gratitude and brains.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>But I know not whether the monarch of <i>France</i> had long ears like his -brother <i>Midas</i>, or some little familiar whisper’d it in his ear; but -what I thought could never be detected, was publickly discoursed at -court. Perceiving this, I resolved on a voyage to <i>Rome</i>, and the -rather, because I thought the <i>Romish</i> religion most commodious for a -woman of inclinations, and that it would illustrate my history, to -abjure the opinion of <i>Luther</i> at the feet of the pope; tho’ I had as -little believed and followed the doctrine of the <i>Reformed</i>, as I have -since the absurdities of the <i>Roman</i> church. <i>Italy</i> seem’d to me a -paradice, and I thought my past troubles fully recompensed, when I found -myself in that famous city, which has been the mistress of this world, -without subjects to controul me; saucy chattering <i>Frenchmen</i> to revile -me, and amongst a mixture of strangers, which made all my actions pass -unregarded. ’Twas enough for me to be esteemed a saint, that I was -turn’d Papist in a place where debauchery is tolerated; and you’ll find -me, perhaps, one day canonized by the <i>Roman</i> clergy. ’Tis true, I was -not so rigorous to them as others for the pope, cardinals, legates, -bishops, abbots, priests, and monks, composed my court, where -licentiousness reign’d most agreeably. Not that I had renounced the -company<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_91">{91}</a></span> of young virgins; for I was intimate enough with some of them, -to have it said, I was of the humour of <i>Sappho</i>; and as I liv’d at -<i>Rome</i>, so I thought myself obliged to practise their manners. But the -chief reason of my writing, is to desire you to protect me against those -ignorant coxcombs, who endeavour to put me among the number of the -foolish virgins; for I began and finished my course, as I have told you, -and will now leave you, to judge if there can be any probability in such -a scandalous story. My good friend the pope, to whom I had been -wonderfully civil, solemnly swore, that whenever I left this world, I -mould not languish in Purgatory, tho’ he knew very well I should go to -another place. But as it was the promise of a tricking <i>Jesuit</i>, so I -did not much credit it, nor was much surpriz’d to see myself turn’d into -a sty, among a company of boars and old lascivious goats, a sort of -animals I had formerly been well acquainted with at my palace in <i>Rome</i>, -and who came then grunting and leaping to embrace me. I cannot in this -place hear of the poor gentleman whom I murthered; I asked one of my -he-companions concerning him, who knows no more of him than I do; -therefore I verily believe he is among the martyrs.</p> - -<h2><a id="The_Answer_of_a_young_Vestal_to_the_Queen"></a><i>The Answer of a young</i> Vestal <i>to the</i> Queen.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">G</span>OOD Heavens! Madam, how piously did your majesty begin your letter! and -what pleasure did I take to see such hopeful dispositions to virtue! But -what was that enchanting vice that put you out of the good road? Was it -the Devil? If so, why did you not make use of holy-water? For we, poor -creatures, oppose no other buckler against the darts of <i>Satan</i>, when he -conjures up the frailty of the flesh to disturb us: but I beg your -pardon, you were then a <i>Lutheran</i>, and holy-water has no efficacy, but -only for true <i>Catholicks</i>. My confessor has so often preached charity -to me, that I cannot but bewail the fate of the poor gentleman you lov’d -so dearly, and treated so barbarously. Oh, my dear St. <i>Francis</i>! What -sort of love was that! And how unfortunate are those precious souls that -have parts of pleasing you!<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_92">{92}</a></span> One may very well perceive, by that piece -of barbarity, you neither believed Purgatory, or fear’d Hell; and I -would not have been guilty of such an action for all your excellent -qualities and grandeur. I hear you talk’d of sometimes, and in such a -manner, that it makes me often sigh, pant, and pull down my veil; and I -feel a terrible fit coming upon me by reading your confession.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>Madam, I much rejoice to hear,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>You’ll take a stone up in your ear;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For I’m a frail transgressor too,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And I we the sport as well as you,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>But then I chuse to do the work.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Within the pale of holy kirk:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For absolution cures the scars</i>             }<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Contracted in venereal wars,</i>               }<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And saves our sex a world of prayers.</i> }<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Had you this ghostly counsel taken,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>You might till now have sav’d your bacon.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>’Tis safe intriguing with a flamen</i>          }<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Who sanctifies their work with Amen,</i>   }<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Then who would trust ungodly laymen?</i>}<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Do, Madam, as you please, but I</i>           }<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>None but with priesthood will employ,</i>  }<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>With them I’ll live, with them I’ll die.</i>    }<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Who like the</i> Pelion <i>spear are sure,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>With the same ease they wound to cure</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>But ’tis easy to judge your conscience is as large as the sleeve of a -<a id="FNanchor_42_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> <i>Cordelier</i>, since you began in the spirit, and ended in the flesh. -Notwithstanding what I have merrily own’d in rhime, more to entertain -your majesty, than express my true sentiments, there are certain hours -when I could willingly follow your example; and if you would obtain from -the holy father a dispensation of my vows, which now grow burthensome to -me, I would break a lance in your quarrel: this I am sure of, that the -world will think it less strange to see a nun renounce her convent, than -a queen her crown.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_93">{93}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a id="Francis_Rablais_to_the_Physicians_of_Paris"></a><span class="smcap">Francis Rablais</span>, <i>to the</i> Physicians <i>of</i> Paris.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span>T is in vain for your flatterers to cry you up for able doctors, for -you will never arrive at my knowledge; and I am asham’d every hour to -hear such asses are admitted into the college. Do not believe ’tis a -sensible vanity that induces me to say this, but the perfect knowledge I -have of my own worth; and tho’ I was design’d for a more lazy -profession, yet that does not in the least diminish my merit. You know I -was born at <i>Chinon</i>, and that my parents, hoping I should one day make -a precious saint, put me, in my foolish infancy, into a convent of -<i>Cordeliers</i>: but that greasy habit, in a little time, seem’d to me as -heavy and uneasy as the armour of a giant; so that by intercession made -to Pope <i>Clement</i> VII. I was permitted to change my grey frock for a -black; so I quitted the equipage of St. <i>Francis</i> for that of St. -<i>Benedict</i>, and that I was as weary of in a short time as of the other. -As I had learnt a great deal of craft, and but little religion, during -my noviciate in those good schools, so I found a way to get loose from -that cloyster for ever, and took to the study of <i>Hippocrates</i>. Besides -that I had a subtle and clear genius; my comrades discover’d in me an -acute natural raillery, which made me acceptable to the best companions, -Cardinal <i>Bellay</i>, who made me his physician, took me to <i>Rome</i> with him -in that quality, where the sanctity of the triple crown, the ador’d -slipper, and all-opening key, could not hinder me from jesting in the -presence of his holiness. ’Twas <i>Paul</i> III. before called <i>Alexander -Fernese</i>, who then fill’d the apostolical chair, and was more remarkable -for his lewdness than piety. I had the good fortune to please him with -the inclination he found in me to lewdness; and he gave me a bull of -absolution for my apostacy, free from all fee and duties, which I think -was a gracious reward for a foreign, atheistical buffoon. After I had -compil’d a catalogue of his vices, to make use of as I should find an -opportunity, the cardinal, my patron, return’d to <i>Paris</i>, and I with -him, where he immediately<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_94">{94}</a></span> gratify’d me with a canonship of St. <i>Maur</i>, -and the benefice of <i>Meudon</i>. Hiving all I could desire, I liv’d -luxuriously; and the love of satire pleasing me much more than the -service of God, after I had wrote several things without success, for -the learned, I composed the history of <i>Gargantua</i> and <i>Pantagruel</i>; for -the ignorant, things which some call a cock and a bull, and others the -product of a lively imagination. I know most men understand them as -little as they do <i>Arabick</i>; and as it is not to our present purpose, so -do not I intend to explain that stuff to them, but will now, since ’tis -more <i>a propos</i>, give you some advice concerning the malady of your -blustering monarch. The residence I made at the court of <i>France</i>, in -the reign of <i>Francis</i> I. makes me more bold in judging of the nature of -those distempers. You conceal the virulency of <i>Lewis</i> XIVth’s disease, -because you dare not examine into the bottom of the cause, and are more -modest in proposing remedies, than he has been in contracting the -distemper. Yet every one talks according to his interest, and the -news-mongers always keep a blank to set down the manner of his death. If -he does not tremble, he must be thorow-pac’d in iniquity, for he has -several reckonings to make up with Heaven, which are not so easily -adjusted; and as he has often affronted the majesty of several popes, he -will scarce obtain a pass-port to go scot-free into the other world. We -are told here, by some of his good friends, he begins to putrify, and -has ulcers a yard in length, where vermin, very soldier like, intrench -themselves. There is no other remedy for this, according to old -<i>Æsculapius</i>, but to make him a new man, by a severe penitential -pilgrimage into some of the provinces of <i>Mercury</i> and <i>Turpentine</i>. If -he still fears the danger of war, let him go in disguise; and if at this -age he cannot be without a she-companion, let him take his old friend -<i>Maintenon</i> along with him, she is poison-proof, and may, to save -charges, serve him in three capacities, <i>viz.</i> as a bedfellow, nurse, -and guide; keep him also to a strict diet; scrape his bones, and purge -him thoroughly, and all may be found again but his conscience. You -cannot imagine how merrily we gentlemen of the faculty live at <i>Pluto</i>’s -court: I am secretary to the same <i>Paul</i> III. who pardon’d me <i>gratis</i> -the viola<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_95">{95}</a></span>tion of my vows, my irreverence for the church, and my want of -respect for him; <i>Scaramouch</i> is his gentleman-usher, <i>Harlequin</i> his -page, and <i>Scarron</i> his poet laureat. Don’t suppose I was such a -blockhead as to kiss his sweaty toe, when I visited him in the -<i>Vatican</i>; he had nothing from me, but such an hypocritical hug, as your -monks give each other at the ridiculous ceremony of high-mass. This old -goat still keeps his amorous inclinations; and I, who have so often made -others blush, am often asham’d to hear his ribaldry. He would certainly -make love to <i>Proserpine</i>, but our sultan would not be pleas’d with his -courtship; and besides, his seraglio is as well guarded as the grand -seignior’s, otherwise we might have a litter of fine puppies betwixt -them. Little hump-shoulder’d <i>Luxembourg</i>, lately mareschal of <i>France</i>, -is the captain of her guards, and so damnably jealous, that he will not -suffer any to come near her; at which <i>Pluto</i> is very well pleas’d, and -does not mistrust him, thinking it impossible for any body to be in love -with such a lump of deformity. But to return to our friend <i>Paul</i>, he -scorns to copy after the Devil, who turn’d hermit when he was old; and I -am now making another collection of his impieties and amours, which will -be ready to come out with a <i>Gazette Nostradamus</i> he has been composing -since the year 1600. That sly conjurer is so earnest upon the matter, -that he lifts not up his head, tho’ <i>Pluto</i>’s black-guard boys are -continually burning brimstone under his nose. However, I do not know but -this mountain may bring forth a mouse; for to speak freely, I put as -little faith in those prophets, who, like sots, lose their reason in the -abyss of futurity, as the honest whigs of <i>England</i> do in the oaths and -treaties of your swaggering master. As for you, brother doctor, cut, -scarify, blister, and glyster, since ’tis your profession; but take this -along with you, that they who do the least mischief, pass with me for -the ablest men. But I would advise you not to suffer any longer those -barbarous names of assassins, poisoners, closestool-mongers, factors of -death, <i>&c.</i> the world gives you. I have had high words with <i>Moliere</i> -on your account, and I expect that fine rhiming fellow, <i>Boileau</i>, will -give him a wipe over the nose in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_96">{96}</a></span> one of his satires. For tho’ I have -made bold to talk freely with you, yet I do not mean all the world -should take the same liberty.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang"><i>The Answer of Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Fagon</span>, <i>first Physician to</i> <span class="smcap">Lewis XIV.</span> <i>to</i> -<span class="smcap">Francis Rablais</span>.</p></div> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">Y</span>OU are a very pretty gentleman, friend <i>Rablais</i>, to boast of yourself -so much, and value the rest of your fraternity so little. Do not you -know that I am of the tribe of <i>Judah</i>, and perhaps related to some of -the kings of <i>Israel</i>? Had you heard me preach in a synagogue, you wou’d -soon be convinc’d whether I am an illiterate fellow or no. Is it such an -honour to be of your college? Or wou’d it be any advantage to be like -you? You have been, by your own confession, a most horrid rake-hell; and -I would not, for all the mammon of unrighteousness in my king’s coffer, -transgress one point of the law. You ought not to be astonished at my -greatness, for I concern myself with more than one trade, and no man was -ever in such favour, and grew so rich, by only applying warm injections -to the backside. If you enjoy’d a prebend, and other benefices, you -must, I know, have assisted cardinal <i>Bellay</i> in his amours. For my -part, I boast of having been a broker, sollicitor, and, under the rose, -<i>Billet-deux</i> carrier and door-keeper, because all employments at court -are honourable, especially in that great concern of <i>S——y</i>. Do not -you think you were the first that thought of the remedy you speak of; we -had several learned consultations about it, but know not which way to -mention it, for Madam <i>Scarron</i>, who is very tender of her reputation, -and reigns sovereignly at court, will say we accuse her of bringing the -<i>Neapolitan</i> distemper to <i>Versailles</i>, and have us sent to the gallies, -or hang’d for our good advice. I have often reflected on the scandalous -bantering stuff of those they call wits, have said, and do say of us; -and wish with all my heart, the first brimstone they take for the itch, -and mercury for the pox, may poison ’em; but for us to stir in’t, would -bring ’em all about our ears; and we know the conse<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_97">{97}</a></span>quence of that from -a neighbouring <a id="FNanchor_43_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> country, where they have mumbled a poor physician -<a id="FNanchor_44_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a>, and one that can versify also, almost as severely as a troop of -hungry wolves would a fat ass. However, we thank you for your zeal; but -at the same time advise you not to make a quarrel for so small a -business; and I, in a particular manner, kiss your hand, and desire you -will give my service to <i>Nostradamus</i>. I cannot beat it out of my head, -but that he has put me into his <a id="FNanchor_45_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a> centuries; and that an ingenious -man might discover me there. I own ’tis looking for a needle in a bottle -of hay; but you know I sprung up like a mushroom, and that he foretels -nothing but prodigies.</p> - -<h2><a id="The_Duchess_of_Fontagne_to_the_Cumean_Sibyl"></a><i>The Duchess of</i> Fontagne <i>to the</i> Cumean Sibyl.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> Desir’d <i>Mercury</i> to call, <i>en passant</i>, at your cave; and as he has -wings at his feet, and complaisance in heart, so he will, I don’t doubt, -go a little out of his way to oblige me, by delivering you this letter: -I have from my infancy had you in my mind, and heard my nurse, when I -lay squawling in shitten clouts in my cradle, tell frightful stories of -you. As soon as I began to prattle, my maids taught me to call all old -wrinkled women wither’d sibyls; and the idea of the den you were -confin’d in, fill’d me with fear. But since I have been inform’d of the -truth of your history, that fear is chang’d into veneration, and I now -look upon your cell as a sacred place. To assure you of my respect and -the confidence I repose in you, I will consult you about some future -events, and tell you one part of my griefs. I am nobly born, handsome -and young enough to inspire and receive the softest love. The <i>French</i> -king, who had spoil’d the shape, and wore out the charms of several -mistresses, long before I appear’d at his court, had a mind to do the -same by me. Being naturally proud and wanton, and tempted by the fine -compliments of a great and vigorous prince, and title of duchess, (a -temptation none of us<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_98">{98}</a></span> women can resist) I soon yielded to his desires; -which so mortify’d the haughty <i>Montespan</i>, that she, with a ragoo -<i>a-la-mode d’Espagne</i>, dispatch’d me out of the world, before I could -get a true taste of greatness, or the pleasures of a royal bed. Alas! -What a mighty difference there is between you and me; your years are -innumerable; you are still mentioned in history; your voice still -remains, and you enjoy the divine faculty of prediction; but I was -murther’d in my bloom, when ripe and juicy as the luscious grape; and -that ungrateful perjur’d man, who rifled my virgin treasures, has not so -much as thought or spoke of me since. He dotes on nothing but old age; -and could you appear in something more solid than air, I do not doubt -but he’d make his addresses to you: I believe his being born with teeth -presag’d he would always be a tyrant to his people, and in his latter -days the cully of such a tough piece of carrion as Mrs. <i>Maintenon</i>. -<i>Morbleu!</i> Have I barbarously been sacrific’d; and must a miss of -threescore and fifteen live unpunish’d, and be treated better than I was -in the greatest heighth of that prince’s passion, and warmth of my -desires, when capable both of receiving and giving joy? It really -distracts me! And I conjure you, in the name of <i>Apollo</i>, who never -refus’d you any thing, to let me know by one of your oracles, if I shall -never return to <i>France</i> again. You came hither, I know, with the brave -<i>Æneas</i>, (but stay’d no longer than you lik’d the place) and I have -heard some people say, that knight-errant diverted himself extremely -upon the road, and made a great deal of hot love to you; but I take that -to be a meer story, because <i>Virgil</i>, who would not have let slip so -pleasant a passage, has said nothing of it. However, could I return but -a short time to dislodge <i>Maintenon</i>, and take a frisk with my former -lover, if he be not too old for that business; or were I but your -shadow, provided I liv’d, I should be pretty well pleas’d; for ’tis a -melancholy thing to think that the fates should spin such a long thread -for an old lascivious ape <a id="FNanchor_46_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a>, who never was to be compared with me; -and that there should remain no more of poor <i>Fontagne</i>, than an -unfortunate name, over<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_99">{99}</a></span> which oblivion will in a little time triumph. At -the writing of this, in came a courier from <i>Versailles</i>, who brings us -word, that <i>Lewis the Great</i> has undertook such a piece of work, that -the weight and consequence makes him sick of the world: that Mrs. -<i>Maintenon</i> has wore out his teeth; that legions of vermin devour him, -and that we may suddenly expect him in these dominions; which, if true, -will be some satisfaction to me; and tho’ he be toothless, worm-eaten -and rotten: I will grant him the same liberty he often took with me on a -couch at the <i>Trianon</i>, to get him again under my empire, that I may at -leisure revenge myself for his forgetfulness.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Oh! wou’d it not provoke a maid,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>By softest vows and oaths betray’d,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Her virgin treasures to resign,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And give up honour’s dearest shrine?</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Then when her charms have been enjoy’d,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>To be next moment laid aside.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>But why do I lament in vain,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And of my destiny complain?</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Had I been wife as those before me,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I should have made the world adore me;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Not to one lover’s arms confin’d,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>But search’d and try’d all human kind.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>But I believe this foolish constancy was only owing to my want of -experience; and if I had liv’d a little longer, I should have had the -curiosity to try the variety of human performance, like the rest of my -neighbours. You have been, my dear <i>demi-goddess</i>, in love, and have -been belov’d; therefore, I beseech you, give me some healing advice, or -consolation, as my case requires.</p> - -<h2><a id="The_Cumean_Sybils_Answer_to_the_Duchess_of_Fontagne"></a><i>The</i> Cumean Sybil<i>’s Answer to the Duchess of</i> Fontagne.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span>S it possible that so charming a beauty should think of such an old -decrepid creature as I am! I was desirous to talk with <i>Mercury</i> about -you, but he flew away like a<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_100">{100}</a></span> bird. It extremely troubles me, dear -child, that I am oblig’d, in answer to your letter, to tell you there is -no hopes of your returning to <i>Versailles</i>; for you must consider that -when I conducted <i>Æneas</i>, I was then living, and that ’tis impossible -for any under a <i>Hercules</i> to fetch you from whence you are; and where -shall we find one now? The bravest <i>Boufflers</i> in <i>France</i> is but a -link-boy in comparison to him. Your lover, <i>fair lady</i>, is so fast -link’d to his old <a id="FNanchor_47_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> <i>Duegna</i>’s tail, that he thinks no more of you -and your complaints are insignificant.<a id="FNanchor_48_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a> She that hurried you out of -the world in the flower of your youth, with a favourable dose of poison, -is now neglected, and grown so monstrous fat and lecherous, by living -lazily in a nunnery, that she’s not a fit companion for any creature -that has but two legs to support it. You know not what you do, when you -envy my destiny, for I’m sometimes so teiz’d and tir’d with answering -the <i>virtuosos</i> and <i>beaux</i>, that it turns my very brain. I own, ’tis a -sad thing to dye at eighteen, in the heighth of one’s greatness and -pleasures, because nature always thinks she pays her tribute to death -before-hand. I would willingly divert you a little, but I know not which -way, unless this little history I send you, which a traveller gave me -not long since, and which has novelty to recommend itself, will do it. -Do not believe, good lady, the scandalous story some ignorant rhiming -puppy has made of <i>Æneas</i> and me; he was not so brisk as that comes to; -and I can assure you, never put the question to me. Ask <i>Dido</i>, she can -tell you more of him than I can; and as modest as <i>Virgil</i> describes -her, yet she was forc’d to take this <i>Trojan</i> prince by the throat to -make him perform the duty of a gallant; by this you may judge of his -constitution: besides, had he been never so amorously inclin’d, yet not -knowing my inclinations, he might think his courtship would displease -me, and so disoblige <i>Apollo</i>, for whose assistance he then had -occasion. Therefore laugh at all those idle railleries of impertinent -people, and turn your eyes and thoughts on the following dialogue.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 324px;"> -<a href="images/ill_007.jpg"> -<img src="images/ill_007.jpg" width="324" height="600" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_101">{101}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a id="The_MITRED_HOG_A_Dialogue_between_Abbot_Furetiere_and_Scarron"></a><i>The MITRED HOG: A Dialogue between Abbot</i> <span class="smcap">Furetiere</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Scarron</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><i>Furetiere.</i> <span class="bigg">O</span>H! Have I found you at last, old friend? Tho’ I were -certain you were here, and desir’d earnestly to see you; yet being -gouty, and tir’d with walking, I began to have no more thoughts of -searching after you. How many troublesome journeys I have made, and -leagues have I travell’d, and all to kiss your hands, tho’ I am a -virtuoso, I cannot tell; for in truth, I am quite out of my element, and -confounded ever since I have lost sight of sun and moon.</p> - -<p><i>Scarron.</i> Who are you, and please ye? What’s your name? For the dead -having neither beard nor bonnet, nor any thing else to distinguish them -by, I know not exactly what, or who you are; but by your language and -mien, suppose you some mungril of the <i>French</i> academy.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> Well guess’d; I am call’d Monsieur <i>l’Abbé Furetiere</i>,<a id="FNanchor_49_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a> -alias <i>Porc de bon Dieu</i>, who has long, but in vain, been gaping and -scraping at <i>Versailles</i> for a mitre, that I might wallow in peace and -plenty like a hog. But alas! what a left-handed planet was I born under? -A debauch with stummed wine, setting an old pox, which lay dormant in my -bones, into a ferment, soon carry’d me off, almost in the heighth of my -desires, and when I bad fairest for the bishoprick.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> I am sorry for your misfortune; but am at the same time heartily -glad to see you, Monsieur <i>l’Abbé</i>. You will not, perhaps, meet with all -these conveniencies here, you enjoy’d at <i>Paris</i>; but, in recompense, -you will meet with much honester dealing. For my part, I must own myself -infinitely happy; for now I am neither troubled with lawyers, -physicians, apothecaries, collectors of taxes, priests, nor wife, the -plague and torment of men’s days when on earth. But how have you had -your health since you have been in the country.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_102">{102}</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> Thanks to our master <i>Pluto</i>, I have not yet felt any cold. I -was so very tender and chill for six months in the year at <i>Paris</i>, that -tho’ I was loaded with ermins, and always had a dram of the best <i>Nantz</i> -in my pocket, I could scarce keep my blood from freezing in my veins.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> That’s an affliction you will not meet with here, take my word -for’t; for ’tis something hotter than under the <i>torrid zone</i>, and the -nicest wits of your academy, need not fear spoiling their brains, by -catching cold here. It is not long since I met with the illustrious -<i>Balzac</i>, who does not complain now of the cold in his head, as he did -when he liv’d on the pleasant banks of the <i>Charante</i>. But, what news -have you?</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> I don’t doubt, by your inquisitiveness, but you are very -desirous to hear some news of your wife.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> May pox and itch devour the nasty jade! I know but too much of -her by mareschal <i>d’Albert</i> formerly, and lately, by my likeness -Monsieur <i>Luxemburg</i>; yes, I know she’s a duchess; that she’s one of the -privy-council; and she serves <i>Lewis</i> the XIV. in the same capacity as -<i>Livia</i> did <i>Augustus</i>. But why did not the prostitute make her poor -deform’d husband a duke? I should not have been the first duke and peer -of <i>France</i>, that had been a cuckold.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> By your discourse, Mr. <i>Scarron</i>, one would think you had lost -your senses and memory: But you cannot surely have forgot how, instead -of laurel, she adorn’d your learned brow with horns, before she was -taken notice of at court; Indeed how could a pretty, witty, buxom, young -woman, forbear making such an infirm, deform’d <i>Æsop</i> as you a cuckold?</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> I should not have much valued that, because I had brethren -enough to herd with, if the damn’d whore had but got my pension -augmented; but the confounded jade, instead of that, gave me the -cursed’st garrison to maintain, that ever poor husband was mortify’d -with: To appease which, I was forc’d to have recourse to <i>Unguentum -contra pediculos inguinales</i>, &c. But prithee let’s discourse of -something else, for the thoughts of the duchess of <i>Maintenon</i>, will -disturb my brain, and easily put me into a fever, which is dangerous in -this warm climate.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_103">{103}</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> I’ll tell you but three or four words more of this famous -duchess, and conclude. <i>First</i>, That she has kick’d her patroness, Madam -<i>Montespan</i> out of the royal bed: And <i>Secondly</i>, That she is very great -with the pious jesuit, father <i>la Chaise</i>, the monarch’s confessor.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Oh! oh! by my troth, I don’t wonder at the lascivious harlot, -for closing with him! as there is no feast like the misers, so there is -no gallantry like those monks. When those hypocrites undertake that -business, they do it all like heroes. But you have said all, by saying -he is a jesuit, since those gallants have been in reputation, they have -engrossed all good whoring to their society, especially in <i>France</i>, and -more particularly at <i>Paris</i>, where they have so well behav’d -themselves, that they have chang’d an antient authentick proverb, -<i>Jacobine en <a id="FNanchor_50_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a> chair, Cordelier en <a id="FNanchor_51_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a> chœur, Carme en <a id="FNanchor_52_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a> cusine, -& Augustine en <a id="FNanchor_53_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a> bordel</i>, for now they say, <i>Jesuit en bordel, &c.</i> -But so much for those gentlemen, pray what are you a doing now in the -<i>French</i> academy?</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> There are as many follies committed there, as in any society in -the universe; judge of the whole by this one example. That company was -never so highly honour’d as it is at present, by the particular care -that great monarch takes of it; for which he is repaid in flattering -panegyricks. Nevertheless, these insipid, florid, gentlemen, scold and -scratch like so many fish-women in an alehouse. The other day the great -<i>Charpentier</i> fell into such a passion about a trifle, that he -reproach’d the learned <i>Taleman</i>, of being the son of a broken -apothecary at <i>Rochel</i>; to which <i>Taleman</i> with as much heat reply’d, -<i>Charpentier</i> was the son of poor hedge ale-draper at <i>Paris</i>. From this -<i>Billingsgate</i> language they came to blows. <i>Charpentier</i> threw -<i>Nicot</i>’s dictionary at his adversary’s head, and <i>Taleman</i> threw -<i>Morery</i>’s at <i>Charpentier</i>’s. We all wish’d heartily we could have -recall’d you from the dead, to write the various accidents of this -battle, in your comical and satyric style.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Ha, ha, ha, had I been there, they should have beat the academy -dictionary and <i>Morery</i>’s too in pieces about each other’s ears, before -I would have parted them.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_104">{104}</a></span> But I hope these two sputtering coxcombs did -each other justice; I declare, whoever hinder’d it, deserv’d to be -severely fined. Pray how did you behave yourself during this combat?</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> I happen’d not to be there; for you must know, there has been -such a difference between those gentlemen and me, concerning a -dictionary I have publish’d, that it came at last to a contentious -law-suit; but what was laid on either side, only made the world laugh at -both, and is not half so diverting as the epigram you made upon an, old -lady that went to law with you: I think I still remember it.——</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Thou nauseous everlasting sow,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>With phiz of bear, and shape of cow,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>With eyes that in their sockets twinkle,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And forehead plow’d with many a wrinkle.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>With nose that runs like common-shore,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And breath that murders at twelvescore:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>What! thou’rt resolv’d to give me war,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And trounce me at the noisy bar,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Though it reduces thee to eat,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Thy smock for want of cleanlier meat:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Agreed, old beldam! keep thy word,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>’Twill soon reduce thee to eat a t——d.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> May that be the fate of <i>Taleman</i>, <i>Charpentier</i>, and the rest -of those reformers of the alphabet, and in a more especial manner of -that thieving flattering rogue <a id="FNanchor_54_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a> <i>Despaux</i>, who has made a faithless -poltron, a <i>Mars</i>, and a super-annuated lascivious adultress, a saint. -So much for that —— But give me some little account now of your clergy, -I mean the great plump rogues, the hogs with mitres on their heads, and -crosiers on their shoulders, those janizaries of antichrist.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> I know your meaning—— Never was nickname given with more -justice to any society of men. In <i>Normandy</i>, and those parts they call -all the minor clergy, as the fat monks, canons, abbots, <i>&c.</i> who are -not mitred, <i>Jesus Christ</i>’s porkers; which distinction is not very -fan<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_105">{105}</a></span>tastical, if we allow the other expression. But no more of those -gentlemen, ’tis dangerous.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Prithee, dear abbot, be not so mealy-mouth’d; when I was in the -world, the greatest pleasure I had, was in attacking those gentleman’s -vices, and exposing them to the hereticks, that still-born generation of -vipers, as they call them, and therefore let us be free now; ’tis the -only enjoyment we can have. Pray what says your <i>Monthly Mercury</i> of -those gentleman, whom the earth is more oblig’d to for bodies, than -heaven for souls?</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> Never fuller of who made such a man a cuckold, and who pox’d -such a woman, as now; neither were ever the women half so impudent; no -not in the reigns of <i>Caligula</i> and <i>Nero</i>. Never was debauchery so much -in fashion; nor never were the whores so often cover’d with purple.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Is there not in your herd, such a thing as a tame gentle -weather? or what <i>Virgil</i> calls <i>Dux Gregis</i>? you understand me.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> A weather! oh, fy, fy! not such a creature among them, I can -assure you. The most christian king would not suffer such an impertinent -scandalous animal, so much as at shew his head in his seraglio. ’Tis as -easy to find there a pretty woman chaste, or hair in the palm of your -hand, as an emasculated beast among the mitred hogs: for the <i>Dux -Gregis</i>, <i>Virgil</i> speaks of, we have one at the head of our prelates, -who has all the qualities requisite for so great an honour, tho’ he has -neither beard nor horns: and should I name him, you’d be of my opinion.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Wou’d I recollect my memory, and their virtues, I cou’d guess -within two or three; but pray save me that labour.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> Do you not remember a famous song you made in praise of a sick -wanton goat. <i>Creque fait & defend l’archeveque de Roüen.</i></p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Oh, dear! oh, dear! the right reverend <i>Francis Harley</i>, -archbishop of <i>Paris</i>! my most renowned friend! a worthy chief!</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> The very same, and ’tis a precious jewel, both for body and -soul. A hedgehog has not more bristles than<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_106">{106}</a></span> this prelate has -mistresses, and there’s not a stallion in <i>France</i> that leaps oftner.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> You rejoice my heart Mons. <i>Furetiere</i>. He was, I remember, -always at <i>Paris</i>, when archbishop of <i>Rouen</i>: no man fitter for that -employment. To be free, if <i>Paris</i> be the hell of hackney horses, ’tis -the paradice of whore-masters and hackney-whores. I can guess at what he -does now, by what he did formerly. Several ladies also of our -neighbouring countries are witnesses of his prowess; but more especially -some of the fair <i>English</i> ladies; the luscious morsels of a lustful -monarch. But on to the rest.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> I am willing to satisfy your curiosity, Mr. <i>Scarron</i>, but to -run thro’ the whole herd, would be too tedious at present, tho’ they all -deserve to be chronicled: so I will only, <i>en passant</i>, give you the -history of those you have heard preach, both at <i>Paris</i> and the court, -with wonderful applause; and who, for their modesty and regular lives, -had the reputation of saints, whilst they were only fathers of oratory.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Take your own method, Mons. <i>l’Abbé</i>; but let me tell you one -thing, by the way, this place is call’d the <i>wits corner</i>, but by some -late guests, because of the smoak and liquor, the <i>wits Coffee-House</i>. -Now you know the wits of all countries laugh at the clergy in their -poems and plays; and that the clergy, to be reveng’d of them, and keep -up their own reputation with the ignorant, call them atheists; therefore -you may freely give a true description of them. All here are their -enemies; and a priest would as soon venture his carcass in <i>Sweden</i> as -in this place; he dreads a poet, as much as dogs do a sow-gelder.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> Still a merry man, Mr. <i>Scarron</i>. But to return to your mitred -hogs; do you remember father <i>le Bone</i>, and father <i>Mascron</i>. The first -is now bishop of <i>Perigueux</i>, and the other bishop of <i>Agen</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> How! are these two famous preachers, those scourgers of pride -and immorality, got into the herd of the mitred hogs? by my troth, I -always took them for credulous humble weathers, believers of what they -preached; tho’ I know most priests seldom believe what they profess.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> Well, Mr. <i>Scarron</i>, tho’ you can see as far thro’ a mill-stone -as any man, yet I find you are not infallible.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_107">{107}</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Faith, a man sees as far thro’ a mill-stone, as a priest’s -surplice, tho’ ’tis reckon’d the emblem of purity. But, Mons. <i>l’Abbé</i>, -what <i>Montaigne</i> said formerly of the women, I now say of the priests: -<i>Ils envoyen leur conscience au bordel, & tiennent leur countenance en -regle</i>: they send their conscience to the stews, and keep their -countenance within rule.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> ’Tis even as true of one, as of the other, Mr. <i>Scarron</i>, and -my following discourse will verify it. What virtue there is in a mitre, -I know not, for I could never obtain one; I was thought too good a -christian in the bottom; but before I had bad adieu to <i>Paris</i>, your -innocent believing apostles were become too as rampant and fine coated -hogs as any of the herd. The reverend father <i>le Bone</i>, bishop of -<i>Perigueux</i>, has so bravely plaid the county boar, that there’s not a -pretty nun in his diocese but has been with pig by him; as I have been -credibly informed by persons of honour.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Oh! the excellent apostle: I remember a story of him when he was -bishop of <i>Agde</i>, which will not be unpleasant to you, if you can bear -with a pun, and a poet’s making merry with several languages, a thing he -can no more avoid than flattery. This worthy prelate not meeting with -that plenty at <i>Agde</i> his voluptuousness required, made his monarch this -compliment: Sir, <i>Je suis né gueux, j’ay vecu gueux, benais s’il plait a -votre majeste, je voux Perigueux</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> Faith, a very comfortable reward for a very filthy pun; I have -said forty pleasanter things to the king, and never could get beyond -Mons. <i>l’Abbé</i>, which makes me believe there is a critical minute for a -wit, as well as love: an excellent <i>Roman</i> poet was sensible of it, when -he said,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><i>Hora libellorum decima est, Eupheme, meorum,</i><br /> -<i>Temporat ambrosias cum tua cura dapes,</i><br /> -<i>Est bonus æthereo laxatur nectare Cæsare.</i></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">There’s a <i>Latin</i> quotation for you, to shew you I understand it; and -that I have been an author as well as you.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Believe me, Mons. <i>l’Abbé</i>, you’ll fare much the better for it -here; and tho’ those gentlemen made us poor<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_108">{108}</a></span> poets pass for scoundrels -and impious ridiculers of piety in the other world, yet we have much the -whip-hand of them in these quarters, therefore take comfort. Tell me -pray how the pious <i>Julius Mascaron</i> behaves himself at <i>Agen</i>, where he -meets with greater plenty than he did at <i>Thute</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> Oh! the acorns and chesnuts of <i>Agen</i> have made him so plump -and wanton, ’twould rejoice your heart to see him. All the females of -the town caress him, and strive which shall yield him most delight; and -he out of zeal and gratitude, and to preserve peace and charity among -them, like a holy prelate, has given to each her hour of rendezvous, -which they keep as regularly as the clock strikes.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Very well! there’s nothing so commendable as good method in -whoring.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> But his favourite is a pretty gentle <i>nun</i>, with whom he often -goes to <i>Beauregard</i>, there <i>tete a tete</i>, or rather <i>ne a ne</i>, under -the shady limes, do they both act that which will one day procure a -third. There are forty other better stories of these two prelates; for -they value not what common report says. They are above it: But if you -will listen to the exploits of the bishop of <i>Laon</i>, now cardinal -<i>d’Estrée</i>, I will shew you what a mitred hog is capable of.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> As I am acquainted with the strength of his genius, so I do not -doubt of the greatness of his performances. You have now named a man -that would make a parish bull jealous.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> The history I shall give you, will justify your opinion of him. -Know then that the cardinal <i>d’Estrée</i> being passionately in love with -the marchioness <i>de Cœuvres</i>, who was supposed to have granted the duke -<i>de Seaux</i> the liberty of rifling her placket, was resolv’d to put in -for his snack. To compass this, he acquainted his nephew, the marquis -<i>de Cœuvres</i>, with the scandalous familiarity that was between the duke -and his wife. Upon which their parents met at the mareschal -<i>d’Estrée</i>’s, where it was concluded to send the young adultress into a -convent; but the old mareschal, made wiser by long experience, was -against it. In good faith, said he, you are more nice than wise; had not -our mothers plaid the same wanton trick, not one<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_109">{109}</a></span> of us had been here. I -know very well what I say; there’s not a handsome nose nor leg in the -company, but has been stole; and not a farthing matter from whom, -whether prince or coachman, it has mended our breed: therefore we have -more reason to praise those, who discreetly follow the examples of their -grandmothers and mothers, than banish ’em, and so render them fruitless. -Do not suppose, when I married my grandson <i>de Cœuvres</i>, to young -mademoiselle <i>de Lionne</i>, that I consider’d her riches, or that her -father was a minister of state; such thoughts are beneath a man of my -age and experience. My great hopes were, that she being young and -handsome, will still support the grandeur of our family, which as you -all very well know, has been made more considerable by the intrigues of -the women, than by the valour of the men. I’m sure I never discourag’d -what I now maintain; and why my grandson should be more squeamish than -I, or his forefathers have been, I take it to be unreasonable: -therefore, since the marchioness <i>de Cœuvres</i> is only blam’d for having -tasted those pleasures which nature allows, and which are customary in -our family, I declare my self her protector. Yet I would not have this -be the talk of the court; I would not have it pass my threshold; because -the world might say of one of us, as of a fine curious piece of -clock-work, that a great many excellent workmen had a hand in it.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> In this generous and considerate speech, do I plainly discover -the inclinations of the famous <i>Gabriele d’Estrée</i>, <i>Harry</i> the fourth’s -mistress. But I am in trouble for the poor marchioness; I know a convent -must be insupportable to a woman that has tasted the pleasures of a -licentious court.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> The cardinal was against publishing his niece’s wantonness, as -well as the mareschal, and took upon him the care of reprimanding her, -and bringing her into the path of virtue: to which the marquis <i>de -Cœuvres</i> readily consented, not imagining he deliver’d the pretty lamb -to the ravenous wolf. This being agreed on, the lustful prelate went -immediately to his niece; I come, Madam, said he, from doing you a very -considerable piece of service: all our family has been in consultation -against you, and could think of no milder punishment for you than a<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_110">{110}</a></span> -convent, with all its mortifications, <i>viz.</i> <i>Praying, fasting, -whipping, and abstaining from the masculine kind</i>, &c. I know, dear -niece, this was as unjust as severe; but, in short, it had been your -doom, had I not been your friend. Such a piece of service as this, -beautiful niece, deserves a suitable return, and I believe you too -generous to be ungrateful: but I shall think this, and all the other -services I can render you, highly recompenc’d, if you’ll but permit me -to see you often, and embrace you.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> A very pious speech! I hope that which is to follow will answer -this excellent beginning. Now do I imagine a place formally besieged; -the next news will be of the opening the trenches.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> We proceed very regularly, Mr. <i>Scarron</i>; the place makes a -noble defence, and does not surrender till a breach is made. To be thus -unjustly accused, said the marchioness, is a very great misfortune; and -tho’ I will not disown my obligation to you, yet you must permit me to -say, that your proceeding destroys that very obligation: if you will not -have any regard to my virtue, and the fidelity I owe to my husband, you -ought, nevertheless, to remember your character, and how nearly we are -related. But I know the meaning of this; you believe the scandalous and -malicious story that has been raised of me, and design to make your -advantage of it. What can be more injurious than this attempt! Tho’ you -thought me a whore, had you but thought me still virtuous enough to -abhor your beastly, incestuous proposition, I should have had some -reason to esteem you—</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Poor prelate! Egad, I pity thee; thou hast receiv’d such a -bruise in this repulse, that I cannot think thou wilt have the courage -to return to the attack.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> Have patience; you are not acquainted with the craft and -courage of a <i>mitred hog</i>. The prelate, who by this resistance, was -become more amorous, resolv’d to watch so narrowly his niece’s conduct, -that he would oblige her to do that out of fear, which all his rhetorick -and protestations of love could not tempt her to. To be short, he -managed so well this important affair, that he surpris’d the duke <i>de -Seaux</i> in bed, between Madam <i>de Lionne</i> and the marchioness <i>de -Cœuvres</i> her daughter:<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_111">{111}</a></span> and to magnify charity, as well as other virtues -in this matter, he took Monsieur <i>de Lionne</i> along with him. I will -leave you to imagine the confusion of these two ladies; the first to see -her husband, and the other the man she had so vigorously repuls’d. The -marchioness thinking wisely, her compliance would yet conceal her -intrigue; taking the cardinal by the hand, and gently squeezing it, -said, If you’ll promise to appease my father, and by your ghostly -authority, make my mother and him good friends again, and keep this -frolick from my husband, you shall, whenever you please, find me -grateful, and sensible of your affection.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> What said Monsieur <i>de Lionne</i>? The surprise of a poor cuckold, -who finds a handsome, brawny young fellow in bed with his wife and -daughter, surpasses my imagination.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> If, like <i>Actæon</i>, he had been immediately metamorphosed into a -stag, he could not have been more surprized.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> How did the prelate behave himself after this charitable brave -exploit? The breach is now made, there has been a parley; the -preliminaries are agreed on; nothing now is wanting, but taking -possession of the place.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> You move very soldier like, Mr. <i>Scarron</i>. The prelate being -resolv’d to perform all the articles of the treaty, like a man of -honour, first preach’d on charity, and then forgiveness of crimes; then -on human prudence, policy, the reputation of their family, and quoted -some of the old mareschal’s remarks; which altogether so prevail’d on -the poor cuckold, that he consented to put his horns in his pocket, and -forgive his daughter. Then did the prelate, under the pious pretence of -correcting his faulty niece, lead her with a seeming austere gravity -into his chamber, where he summon’d her to the performance of articles -on her part; which, on a couch, were reciprocally exchanged; she not -daring to refuse it, for fear he should acquaint her husband with her -intrigue with the duke <i>de Seaux</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Oh brave hog! worthy prelate! pious cardinal. What a fine way of -mortification is this! Well, for sincerity, humility, charity, sobriety, -<i>&c.</i> commend me to a prelate.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_112">{112}</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> The cardinal, tho’ he had obtained his desires, yet could not -but be sensible that fear, not love, made her consent; therefore -doubting she would return to her first amours, or that he should have -but little share of her, so contriv’d it, that her husband sent her to a -house he had in the cardinal’s diocese, and not far from his palace. -This had a very good effect; because the cardinal, for the love of her, -resided always in his diocese. Thus did the cardinal and his niece live -very lovingly for two or three years; but the intrigues of the court -calling the prelate out of the kingdom, ambition stepp’d into the place -of love, and put an end to an incestuous commerce, to which the -marchioness had first consented, purely in her own defence.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> I find there are hogs with cardinal caps, as well as mitres. But -I believe they are not so numerous; that dignity, perhaps, is a kind of -curb to their licentiousness.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> You mistake the matter, Mr. <i>Scarron</i>, inclination never -changes; the only reason is, there are more bishops than cardinals, and -most of them reside at <i>Rome</i>, at glorious <i>Rome</i>, which is but one -entire stew; <i>Sodom</i> was not what <i>Rome</i> is now. Have you forgot the -famous cardinal <i>Bonzi</i>? He is as absolute in <i>Montpelier</i>, as the grand -signior in his seraglio; he needs but beckon to the dame he has a mind -to enjoy. The brave cardinal <i>de Bouillon</i>, notwithstanding his court -intrigues is as well known in all the bawdy-houses of <i>Paris</i>, as a -young debauch’d musqetteer, or <i>garde de corps</i>. The cardinal <i>de -Furstenburg</i> too was as wicked as his purse would allow him before I -left the town.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> I verily believe it, Monsieur <i>l’Abbé</i>: But pray give me leave -to reckon your dignities upon my fingers, that I may not forget them. -First, There is your porkers of <i>Jesus Christ</i>; then your <i>mitred hogs</i>; -and lastly, your <i>purple hogs</i>. ’Tis wondrous pretty! pray how must we -distinguish the Pope, who is chief of this herd? Must we call him the -swine-herd? Some of them, ’tis true, were swine-herds before they took -the order of priesthood, as <i>Sixtus Quintus</i>, who was swine-herd to the -village of <i>Montaste</i>: But there is another thing that puzzles me worse -than all this: you know <i>Lewis</i> XIV. calls<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_113">{113}</a></span> himself the eldest son of -St. <i>Peter</i>, <i>Lewis the Great</i> then, for all his ambition is the son of -a swine-herd. Well, I know not how to settle this point; therefore pray -continue your history.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> I’ll make an end of my history, if you are not already glutted -with the infamy of the afore-mentioned prelates; with that of the -archbishop of <i>Rheims</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> How! Monsieur <i>l’Abbé</i>, how! Is he a hog too? I have heard him -call’d by some of our new guests a horse.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> You are in the right of that: the mareschal <i>de la Feuillade</i> -was his god-father, and one day honour’d him with the title of -coach-horse.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> A horse is a degree of honour above a hog—— Has <i>la Feuillade</i> -the privilege of distributing titles at the court of <i>France</i>? Has he -more wit than in cardinal <i>Mazarine</i>’s days, who always greeted him in -these words, Monsieur <i>de la Feuillade, All your brains would lie in a -nutshell</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> ’Tis true, there is no more substance in his brains, than in -whipt cream; and as that fills up the desart, and serves to cool and -refresh the stomach after a plentiful dinner; so does he serve to unbend -and divert the mind, after solid conversation and business. To prove -this, I will tell you how he made the king to laugh very heartily, -concerning the archbishop of <i>Rheims</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> As a wise politick lady, when she has not the fool her husband -to divert her, will have her monkey; so must the great statesman have -his buffoon. He is the same to the politician as a clyster is to the man -that’s costive. But go on with your story.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> He being one day with the king, looking out at a window of -<i>Versailles</i>, that faces the great road to <i>Paris</i>, and observing the -passengers, the king at last discover’d a coach with more, as he -thought, than six horses; and turning to <i>la Feuillade</i>, praising the -equipage, ask’d him if it was not the archbishop of <i>Rheims</i>’s livery: -yes, Sir, said <i>la Feuillade</i>. I can discover but seven horses, reply’d -the king: Oh! Sir, said <i>la Feuillade</i>, the eighth is in the coach. But -I pretend to degrade this archbishop, and prove that he’s but a <i>mitred -hog</i> as well as the rest of his brethren.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_114">{114}</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Ah dear Monsieur <i>l’Abbé</i>, for the love of Monsieur <i>le -Tellier</i>, who has render’d his king and country such great service, take -not from him the honour <i>la Feuillade</i> conferr’d on him, and with the -king’s approbation.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> Plead not so earnestly for him, but hear me with patience. I do -not say but the archbishop of <i>Rheims</i> is a brute, a very animal, a -coach-horse, <i>per omnes casus</i>; but yet he pursues the affairs of love -with as much zeal, and as little conscience, as any prelate in <i>Europe</i>, -therefore must not be distinguish’d from his brethren. Besides, if you -take him from his lawful title of <i>mitred hog</i>, you will hinder his -preferment.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Oh! by no means. I have read that <i>Caligula</i> honour’d one of his -horses with the title of senator; why then may not the Pope, who is the -successor of that emperor, call into his senate your coach-horse?</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> With all my heart. Nevertheless, I’ll call him if you please, -<i>mitred hog</i>, as I did the bishop of <i>Loan</i> before he was cardinal -<i>d’Estrée</i>. Now to matter of fact. The duchess <i>d’Aumont</i> having -surpris’d one of her chamber-maids in a very indecent posture with the -marquis <i>de Villequier</i>, her son-in-law, turn’d her out of her service. -The poor wench, distracted to find herself separated from her lover, -told him, out of pure revenge, that the archbishop of <i>Rheims</i> lay with -the duchess every time the duke went to <i>Versailles</i>. How! my uncle! Ah! -I cannot believe it; thou say’st this out of malice.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Oh fie! oh fie! The archbishop of <i>Rheims</i> debauch the duchess -<i>d’Aumont</i>, his brother-in-law’s wife! Do not you plainly perceive this -jade’s malice? If the duchess had but suffer’d her intrigue with the -marquis, she would not have open’d her mouth. Oh, horrible! Oh, -horrible!</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> As much as you seem to wonder now, and abhor the thoughts of -such doings, you were not formerly so nice, nor incredulous.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Be not angry, good Monsieur <i>l’Abbé</i>; I do believe as bad of a -priest, as you can desire to have me; therefore pray continue.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> By what follows you’ll find that the spirit of revenge -discover’d a most luscious intrigue. Since you<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_115">{115}</a></span> will not believe what I -say, reply’d the wench to her gallant, I will, the next time the duke -goes to <i>Versailles</i>, make your eyes convince you. The duchess, you must -know, had imprudently given her leave to stay three or four days in her -house. As it happen’d, the duke went that afternoon to court, who was no -sooner gone, and the marquis plac’d in a dark room leading to the -duchess’s bed-chamber, but by comes the archbishop, muffled up with a -dark-lanthorn in his hand. This convinced the young marquis, and was -enough to convince a more incredulous man than your worship.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> It was perhaps some phantome, or some amorous Devil, who to do -himself honour, had taken the archbishop’s goodly form and sanctify’d -mien.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> Still excusing the priests! You were not such an advocate of -theirs in the other world, witness your answer to your parish-priest, -some few hours before you pack’d up for this place.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> I have since drank a swinging draught of <i>Lethe</i>’s forgetful -stream; I remember nothing of it: You would, perhaps, scandalize me.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> It was thus, Sir, the grave hypocrite administring the last -idolatrous ceremonies, asked if you knew what you received; to which you -made this short answer: <i>The body of your God carried by an ass</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> ’Tis true, ’tis true, Monsieur <i>l’Abbé</i>; pray who can endure to -be disturb’ by an impertinent coxcomb, when he’s going to take a long -voyage? But go on, I will not speak one word more in their behalf.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> The marquis, convinced by what he had seen, went the next -morning to <i>Versailles</i>, and told all the young nobility of his -acquaintance what had pass’d; which by being buzz’d about, in four and -twenty hours became the talk of all the court.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Oh brave archbishop of <i>Rheims</i>! Was no body worthy of being -made a cuckold by you, but your brother in-law?</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> Again mistaken, Mr. <i>Scarron</i>, for the charitable archbishop -has assisted his nephew too, as well as his brother-in-law, and intends -to go round the family.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> The Devil! This is the most insatiable hog I ever heard of! He -devours both the hen and her chickens.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_116">{116}</a></span> Pray excuse me, Monsieur -<i>l’Abbé</i>: I cannot but think you wrong him now.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> You may judge of that by the following relation. The archbishop -being passionately in love with Madam <i>d’Aumont</i> his niece, and the -marquis <i>de Crequi</i>’s wife, was resolv’d, the better to insinuate -himself with her, to make her jealous of her husband, which he found no -difficult matter to do. This done, he went to visit her, and finding her -melancholy, said, Madam, I know no reason you have to be so much -concern’d at your husband’s infidelity, since it lies in your power to -be reveng’d. If he has a mistress, why don’t you get a gallant? I know -no injustice in it; and it is the only recompensing counsel I can give -you.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Ah! <i>Marchioness</i>, have at you; I find the hog grows -rampant—— Go on, good Sir, this is like a brave metropolitan.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> The young marchioness did not listen to this proportion; but on -the contrary, was surpris’d to find her uncle, an archbishop, make a -motion, which had she been inclined to follow, he ought to have given -her more virtuous advice. Perceiving her aversion to his proposition, he -suspected she might suppose he only said it to try her inclinations, -therefore he was resolved to declare his mind in more intelligible -terms; which he did in so amorous a style, that the marchioness plainly -perceiv’d the archbishop intended to have a share in the revenge. But -the young lady, tho’ she would not have made any scruple of it, had it -not been for his character, was infinitely concerned at it.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Notwithstanding all this, do I see the purple victorious, and -the poor victim prostrate.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> As the archbishop made her frequent presents, and she expected -great advantages at his death, so she did not think it prudence to -mortify him too much; this filled him with hopes, and made him more -amorous: therefore, to blind the husband, and have a better opportunity -of lying with his wife, he proposed taking them into his palace, and -defraying all their charges.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Money is the sinew of love as well as war. The poor marquis, I -don’t doubt, was blinded with this fine proposal. More men are made -cuckolds by their own follies than by their wives.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_117">{117}</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> So it proved by our cuckold, who was so transported at the -bounteous offer of the archbishop, supposing it an uncle’s kindness, not -a lover’s, that he every where boasted of it, that is to say, he thought -himself oblig’d to his uncle for lying with his wife at that price. The -mareschal <i>de Crequi</i>, his father, had quite another opinion of that -matter, and was affronted at the excessive liberalities of the -archbishop, knowing that the most devout and zealous of their tribe were -adulterers, incestuous, and sodomites. He complain’d of it to the -marquis <i>Louvois</i>, who told him, covetousness was the reason of his -complaint. The mareschal not satisfied with this answer, went to the -king, who immediately commanded the archbishop to retire into his -diocese. The disconsolate archbishop, whilst all were preparing for his -journey, went to visit his niece, and with tears desired her ever to -remember, that it was for the love of her he was banish’d.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> Could the afflictions of the living affect me, I shou’d be -mightily concern’d for the grief this poor prelate, who was oblig’d to -leave so dear, so pretty a niece; a niece that afforded him so much -pleasure and delight. Have not you left behind you other <i>mitred hogs</i>, -whose lives and conversations are worthy your remembrance? Those you -have already been so kind to relate, have been a banquet to me; and I -heartily wish I may always meet with such entertainment.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> Your servant, Mr. <i>Scarron</i>, I am extremely pleased they have -diverted you; and that you may promise yourself such another -entertainment, nay, twenty such; be assur’d, that there is not a bishop, -archbishop, or cardinal, that is not as very a hog, as either the -archbishop of <i>Rheims</i>, or cardinal <i>d’Estrée</i>, except the bishop of -<i>Escar</i>, who lives in a barren soil, and can scarce afford himself a -bellyfull of chesnuts above once in fifteen days. Poverty is a kind of -leprosy, not a fair sleek female will come near him. The reason why I -entertain you with the histories of these two prelates, rather than of -the archbishop of <i>Paris</i>, the bishop of <i>Meaux</i>, the bishop of -<i>Beauvais</i>, the bishop of <i>Valence</i>, and all the other bishops, is, -because having heard the famous actions of those worthy metropolitans, -faithfully related some few days before my de<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_118">{118}</a></span>parture, those ideas are -the most present and lively. But in time, and with a little rubbing up -my memory, I may be able to give you the lives of all the <i>mitred hogs</i>. -Besides, as we have now settled three couriers weekly from this place to -<i>Versailles</i>, because of the importance of affairs now on foot, I expect -now and then a pacquet; so I don’t doubt of keeping my word, and often -diverting you with stories of the like nature, and of fresher date.</p> - -<p><i>Scar.</i> ’Tis very obliging, Monsieur <i>l’Abbé</i>: But your last paragraph -has put an odd whim into my noddle. This place, as I told you before, is -now call’d the wits coffee-house; none but authors are sent hither. What -think you if we should join our heads together, and digest all your -stories and intelligence into form; if we should compile a book of them, -we could make it very diverting, having able men both for verse and -prose, whose very names would give it the reputation of a faithful -history, because the dead neither hoping nor fearing any thing from the -living, cannot be suspected of flattery and partiality, as they justly -were when in the world.</p> - -<p><i>Furet.</i> I protest, a noble thought! The lives of the <i>Roman</i> prelates -will make a most curious history. We have a famous history of the -<i>Roman</i> emperors; and why should we not then have another of the <i>Roman</i> -prelates, since they as justly deserve to be transmitted to posterity?</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang"><i>Beau</i> <span class="smcap">Norton</span>, <i>to his Brothers at</i> <span class="smcap">Hippollito</span><i>’s in</i> -Covent-Garden. <i>By Captain</i> <span class="smcap">Ayloff</span>.</p></div> - -<p><i>Dearly beloved Brothers of the Orange-Butter-Box.</i></p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">Y</span>OU will soon be satisfy’d what mighty changes we suffer by death; and -that there is no two things at more distance from one another, than to -be and not to be. You know how, <i>Roman</i> like, I took pett, and dar’d to -die! for time had bejaded me a little, and to renounce the tyranny of -the fickle goddess, I was oblig’d to renounce your light. Since my -arrival at the grim <i>Tartarian</i> territories, I have received the usual -compliments of the place; and tho’ the most accurate courtiers that -ever<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_119">{119}</a></span> was bred at <i>Versailles</i>, and all the wits of the most gallant -courts in the universe, are here in whole shoals; yet to my great wonder -and amazement, not one of them said a genteel thing to me. But with a -strange familiar air, that favour’d much of our bear-garden friendship, -some a hundred or two, hall’d me by the ears, and puffing out thick -clouds of flaming sulphur, cry’d all with a hoarse and dismal voice, -well, <i>Doily</i>, this was kindly done of thee, to take <i>pas avance</i> of -destiny, and shew the world, that no man need be miserable, but who is -afraid to die.</p> - -<p>I was (amongst friends) as much out of countenance at this saucy -proceeding, as when our old friends, <i>Shore</i> and <i>la Rocha</i>, refus’d to -lend me five paultry guineas, after I had equipp’d them with more than -one thousand apiece. I wonder’d at the roughness of their <i>acueil</i>, and -they burst out a laughing at the impertinency of my astonishment. Well, -gentlemen, give me leave to tell you, that if I had but suspected a -quarter part of this inhuman and ungentleman-like reception, I would -have suspended the honours of my self-sacrifice, and have chosen rather -to wait the fatal period of life in a more contracted orb, than thus -suddenly have plung’d myself into such a disappointment. After having -allotted me my portion for my vanity and foppery, and I had been put -into possession of my shop, you cannot conceive how heavy it lay upon my -spirits; but suffer it I must; and if it had not been the odiousest and -most abominable, most nauseous, and most execrable function I could have -laboured under, they would not have been so merciful as to have enjoin’d -it me. ’Twas long before I could obtain leave to insinuate thus much to -you; for they are no ways here below inclined to grant any the minutest -thing imaginable, that may contribute to the benefit of mankind. <i>Jo. -Haines</i> came to me, (and his breath had as much augmented its stench, as -light is different from darkness: In a word, there was as great -disproportion for the worse, as between us and you) and with a displayed -pair of chaps, told me, I must not have any correspondency with the -upper regions, for it might tend to the dispeopling the <i>Acherontic</i> -territories; and that I was a bubble to think they had not as much of -self-interest here below, as any merchant, statesman, lawyer, or -nobleman in all the dominions above. But seeing<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_120">{120}</a></span> my and your old -acquaintance, (gentlemen) I took heart a little, and held my nose; and -after some usual ceremonies, (to which he made but a scurvy return) I -told him, look you Mr <i>Haines</i>, you know, as well as I, that those -powder’d members of the vain fraternity are all of them incorrigible; -present smart and future fear affects them not; they are out of the -reach of good advice; reason was never their talent; for if they were -ever in election to have a thought, as it would be the first, so would -it be the fatalest too. Could any glass but shew them to themselves as -really they are, they would all despair like me, and die like me. A sly -young whelp of the second class of <i>Pluto</i>’s footmen, said, well, Mr. -<i>Haines</i>, there may be much in what he says, he came last from thence, -therefore let him make an end of his epistle, it may turn to better -account than we are aware of. I thank’d the gentleman for his civility, -and would have administred a half-crown; but you know (my worthy -brothers) that the last twelve shillings I had was laid out in three -glasses of <i>Ratifia</i>, and a bottle of <i>Essence</i>; with which, I first -comb’d out my wig, then clean’d my shoes, and then oil’d the locks of my -pistols, and so set out for this tedious and lugubrous journey: and that -you may see, that <i>Pluto</i>’s skip-kennels are not so insolent as yours -are, the fellow told me, with a malicious smile, that if the powder’d -gentry of the other world were so very despicable animals, as I -represented them, he would take a small tour with me, and then I might -have something material to communicate to them.</p> - -<p>We had not walk’d so far as from the chocolate-house to the <i>Rose</i>, but -in a narrow, obscure, obscene alley, there hung out a piece of a broken -chamber-pot, upon which was written in sulphurous characters, <i>Fleshly -relief for the sons of</i> Adam. I had hardly made an end of reading this -merry motto, but the door open’d, and what should my eyes behold, but a -reverend lady, of illustrious charms, that gave us too visible proofs of -the depredations of time: I recollected her phiz, as engineers tell by -the very ruins, whether the fabric were <i>Doric</i> or <i>Ionic</i>, &c. and who -should this be but the celebrated fair <i>Rosamond</i>; her present -occupation was to be runner to this bawdy coffee-house. Queen <i>Eleanor</i>, -her mortal enemy, sells sprats, and has</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 335px;"> -<a href="images/ill_008.jpg"> -<img src="images/ill_008.jpg" width="335" height="600" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_121">{121}</a></span></p> - -<p class="nind">her stall in <i>Pluto</i>’s stable-yard. In my peregrination, I met several -things unexpected, and therefore surprising; I shall not give you the -trouble of every particular dark passage we went thro’, but in general -terms relate the most memorable things that occurred during a very -considerable walk that we had together. Taking a solitary walk on the -gloomy banks of <i>Acheron</i>, I met a finical fellow, powder’d from top to -toe, his hands in his pocket, <i>a-la-mode de Paris</i>, humming a new -minuet; and who would it be, but <i>Gondamour</i>, that famous <i>Spaniard</i>. -<i>Helen</i> of <i>Greece</i> cry’d kitchin-stuff, and <i>Roxano</i> had a little -basket of tripe and trotters; <i>Agamemnon</i> sold bak’d ox-cheek, hot, hot; -<i>Hannibal</i> sells <i>Spanish</i>-nuts, come crack it away; the so famous -<i>Hector</i> of <i>Troy</i> is a head-dresser; the <i>Decii</i> keep a coblers-stall, -in the corner of the <i>Forum</i>, and the <i>Horatii</i> a chandler’s-shop; -<i>Sardanapalus</i> cries lilly-white-vinegar, and <i>Heliogabalus</i> bakes -fritters, in the <i>via appia</i> of this metropolis; <i>Lucius Æmilius Paulus</i> -is a bayliff’s follower, and the famous queen <i>Thomyris</i> proportions out -the offals for <i>Cerberus</i>; <i>Tarquin</i> sweeps his den, and <i>Romulus</i> is a -turnspit in <i>Pluto</i>’s kitchen; <i>Artaxerxes</i> is an under scullion, and -<i>Pompey</i> the magnificent, a rag-man; <i>Mark Anthony</i>, that disputed his -mistress at the price of the whole universe, goes now about with -dancing-dogs, a monkey and a rope; <i>Cleopatra</i>, that could swallow a -province at one draught, when it was to drink her lover’s health, -submits now to the humble employment of feeding <i>Proserpine</i>’s pigs: -that luxurious <i>Roman</i>, who was once so dissolv’d in ease, as that a -very rose-leaf doubled under him, prevented his rest, is now labouring -at the anvil with a half hundred hammer; <i>Oliver Cromwell</i> is a -rat-catcher, and my lord <i>Bellew</i> a chimney-sweeper.</p> - -<p>There was besides these, a list of people nearer hand; but you may -easily guess upon what score they are left out of the list. We needed -not have gone so far back in the records of persons and things, to have -met instances of barbarity, luxury, avarice, lust of dominion, as well -as of sensuality. Malversations of government in sovereigns and -subjects; publick justice avoided, private feuds fomented, every thing -sacrificed to a <i>Colbert</i>, <i>Maintenon</i>, or a <i>Loüis</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_122">{122}</a></span></p> - -<p>There is somebody hollows most damnably on the other side of <i>Styx</i>, and -lest I lose this opportunity, I shall only relate some memorable things -to you: Therefore pray pardon me that I cannot dilate upon every -particular. In short then, <i>Alexander</i> the Great is bully to a -guinea-dropper; and cardinal <i>Mazarine</i> keeps a nine-holes; <i>Mary</i> of -<i>Medicis</i> foots stockings, and <i>Katherine</i>, queen of <i>Sweedland</i> cries -two bunches a penny card-matches, two bunches a penny; <i>Henry</i> the -fourth of <i>France</i> carries a rary-show; and <i>Mahomet</i>, muscles; <i>Seneca</i> -keeps a fencing-school, and <i>Julius Cæsar</i> a two-penny ordinary; -<i>Xenophon</i>, that great philosopher, cries cucumbers to pickle; and -<i>Cato</i> is the perfectest Sir <i>Courtly</i> of the whole <i>Plutonian</i> kingdom; -<i>Richelieu</i> cries topping bunno; and the late pope, any thing to day; -<i>Lewis</i> the thirteenth is a corn-cutter; <i>Gustavus Adolphus</i> cries -sparrowgrass, with a thousand more particulars of this nature. You must -allow the scenes to be mightily alter’d from their former stations; but -alas! Sir, this change we suffer, and as pleasure is the reward of -virtue, so disgrace and infamy is of cruelty, pride, and hypocrisy. What -can be more surprising than to see the renowned <i>Penthefilea</i>, queen of -the <i>Amazons</i>, crying new almanacks, and <i>Darius</i> gingerbread, <i>van -Trump</i> cries ballads, and admiral <i>de Ruyter</i> long and strong -thread-laces.</p> - -<p>This disproportion is their punishment; for it must be anxious to the -last degree, to fall so low even beyond a possibility of rising again. -That is the advantage of moving in an humble sphere; they are not -capable of those enormities that the great ones can hardly avoid; for -temptation will generally have the better of mankind.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>I rest</i>,<br /> -<br /> -<i>Yours in haste.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p class="c"> -<img src="images/deco.jpg" -width="70" -alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_123">{123}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a id="Perkin_Warbeck_to_the_pretended_Prince_of_Wales_By_Capt_Ayloff"></a><span class="smcap">Perkin Warbeck</span> <i>to the pretended Prince of</i> Wales. <i>By Capt.</i> <span class="smcap">Ayloff</span>.</h2> - -<p><i>Dear Cousin Sham</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">W</span>E had a fierce debate here on the 13th <i>passato</i>, between my lord -<i>Fitz-Walter</i>, Sir <i>Simon Mountford</i>, Sir <i>William Stanley</i>, and myself; -whether by a parity of reason, <i>England</i> might not once more have the -same card trumpt up upon them? In a word, we were consulting your -affairs, and they were most of ’em of opinion, that there could not be -any good success expected from your personal endowments, and princely -qualifications. For you must give me leave to tell you, <i>Cuz</i>, that I -was a smart child, and a smock-fac’d youth; I had not the good luck to -kill a wild boar at your years, but I could sit the great horse before I -could go alone, I had all the advantages of friends that you have, and -the interest of my good aunt the duchess or <i>Burgundy</i>, let me tell you, -was as capable of seconding me, as the house of <i>Modena</i> is you: Nay, I -had the <i>Scotch</i> on my side, assistance from <i>Ireland</i>, and not without -a party, you see, even in <i>England</i> too. But the <i>English</i> mob is the -most giddy, wretched, senseless mob of all the mobs in the world. How -they crowded into me at <i>Whitsand-Bay</i>, and in their first fury fought -well enough before <i>Exeter</i>: But when they heard of an army coming -against ’em, the scoundrels ran away and left me; all my blooming hopes -and fancied kingdoms dwindled away in a sanctuary, that I exchanged for -a prison, and brought my <i>Habeas Corpus</i>, and so turn’d myself over to -<i>Tyburn</i>, and am now in the rules of <i>Acheron</i>. Our kinsman <i>Lambert -Simnel</i> and I, drank your health t’other morning in a curious cup of -<i>Styx</i>, and the arch sawcy rogue, said, how he should laugh to see his -brother of <i>Wales</i> succeed him in this great employment at court; -continually turning a spit would harden and inure you, and so prepare -you for these smoaky and warmer climates: not but that there is matter -of speculation in it too. The turning a spit is an emblem of the -vicissitude of human affairs. But before I take my leave, good<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_124">{124}</a></span> cousin, -I must offer a little of my advice to you, if it be possible any ways to -meliorate your destiny; and that is, that you would make a campaign or -two in <i>Italy</i>: Marshal <i>Villeroy</i> will shew you what it is to be well -beaten; and till then you’ll never be a great general. But <i>Charon</i> is -just landing a multitude of <i>French</i> from those parts; I must go see -what news, and inform myself further of your welfare and prosperity.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Adieu.</i><br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="Mr_Dryden_to_the_Lord_8212_By_Capt_Ayloff"></a><i>Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Dryden</span>, <i>to the Lord</i>—— <i>By Capt.</i> <span class="smcap">Ayloff</span>.</h2> - -<p><i>My lord</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">O</span>N the 25th <i>passato</i>, there happen’d a very considerable dispute in the -<i>Delphick</i> vale; the <i>literati</i> had hard words, and it was fear’d by -<i>Pluto</i> himself, that the angry shades would come to somewhat worse. It -may be you in those grosser regions, do not believe that we here below -lose nothing of ourselves by death, but the terrene part: nay, the very -soul itself retains some of those unhappy impressions it receiv’d from -flesh and blood. Here <i>Cæsar</i> bites his thumbs when <i>Alexander</i> walks -by; frowns upon <i>Brutus</i>, and blushes when he talks of king <i>William</i>: -The great <i>Gustavus Adolphus</i> only wishes himself upon earth again, to -serve a captain under him: <i>Turenne</i> wants to be in <i>Italy</i>, and -<i>Wallesteen</i> assures him that prince <i>Eugene</i> of <i>Savoy</i> would have had -the same glorious success against him, as <i>Catinat</i> and <i>Villeroy</i>. -<i>Hannibal</i> own’d that his march over, or rather thro’ the <i>Alpes</i>, was -not so honourable an action as the prince’s; and tho’ arts and -experience may make a general, yet nature can only inform an <i>Eugene</i>. -Surly <i>Charon</i> had been so plagu’d with the <i>French</i> from those parts, -that he has been forc’d to leave whole shoals of them behind. Once they -crowded in so fast, as they almost overset the boat, and still as they -press’d forward, cry’d <i>Vauban, Vauban</i>: But the old gentleman, -unwilling to hazzard himself, push’d a multitude of them back with his -sculls, and so put off—— However, this is not the business I design’d -to mention; something more particular, and of more weighty consequence<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_125">{125}</a></span> -is the occasion of this letter. The real wits refus’d to take notice of -prince <i>Arthur</i>, and king <i>Arthur</i>, who were walking hand in hand; some -shallow-pated versificators would resent the indignity put upon ’em. -This was very disgusting to the <i>literati</i>, and it is inconceivable what -a horrid stench they made with uttering those verses. The more robust -spirits were almost choak’d; you may then judge what condition the -delicate and nice stomachs of the men of wit were in; but while every -one was wishing for their cloaths of humanity again to be less sensible -of this execrable smell, a worthy <i>literati</i> came in from <i>London</i>, who -being informed of the occasion of that terrible inconveniency, repeated -a few commendatory verses, and immediately the air grew tolerable, and -the brimstone burnt serene. <i>Job</i> himself did confess, that had he been -in the flesh again, he was terribly afraid he should have murder’d the -doctor: When a merry spirit standing at his elbow, said, it was no such -wonderful thing to have a sirreverence of a man be mine arse of a poet. -But <i>Charon</i> waits, I must conclude; and as conveniency serves, shall -inform you of what passes in those gloomy regions.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang"><i>A Letter from Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Abraham Cowley</span>, <i>to the</i> Covent-Garden -<i>Society. By Capt.</i> <span class="smcap">Ayloff</span>.</p></div> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HE shatter’d lawrels of the <i>Acherontic</i>-walks, owe not so much of -their misfortune to the shallowness of <i>Aganippe</i>, as to the ungenerous -procedure of the sons of <i>Helicon</i>. Either the hill of <i>Parnassus</i> is -fortify’d, and what with antient and modern wit, even you, gentlemen of -real parts, have none of you that applause, which in a thousand -occasions you have so justly merited. These melancholy reflections, -gentlemen, add a new thickness to the gloomy sulphur; and we cannot -enjoy a perfect quiet here, seeing there is so great and so dangerous a -misunderstanding between you on the other side of <i>Phlegethon</i>. Why -should there be so many pointed satires<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_126">{126}</a></span> against one another? Why mould -you shew the very blockheads themselves where you men of sense are not -quite such as you would pass upon the world for? Your invidious -criticisms only shew others where you are vulnerable, and give an -argument under your own hand against your own selves. There is a charity -in concealing faults; but to make them more obvious, has a double -ill-nature in it. Can’t <i>Arthur</i> be a worthless poem, but a squadron of -poets must tell all the world so? Is there honour in rummaging a -dunghil, or telling the neighbours where there is one? The bee gathers -honey from every flower, ’tis the beetles that delight in horse-dung. Is -it not much more preferable to make something ones self useful to -mankind, than only to shew wherein another is a coxcomb? Partisans in -wit never do well; they only lay the country waste; they gratify their -own private spleen, it may be, but they do not help the publick. Unite -your forces, gentlemen, against ignorance, that growing and powerful -enemy to you and us. Erect triumphal arches, to one another, and do not -enviously pull down what others are endeavouring to set up. Your mutual -quarrels have shaken the very foundation of wit and good humour. ’Tis -the faction a man is of, determines what he is, not his learning and -parts; we cannot hear, gentlemen, of those intestine dissensions, -without a great concern and displeasure; and must take the liberty to -tell you, we apprehend the muses may shortly be reduced to the necessity -of shutting up the <i>Delphic</i> library, and write upon the doors, <i>Ruit -ipsa suis Roma viribus</i>.</p> - -<h2><a id="Charon_to_the_most_Illustrious_and_High-born_Jack_Catch_Esq_by"></a><span class="smcap">Charon</span> <i>to the most Illustrious and High-born</i> <span class="smcap">Jack Catch</span>, <i>Esq; by -Capt.</i> <span class="smcap">Ayloff</span>.</h2> - -<p><i>Most worthy Kinsman and Benefactor</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> Cannot but with the last degree of sorrow and anguish, inform you of -our present wretched condition; we have even tired our palms, and our -ribs at slappaty-pouch; and if it had not been for some gentlemen that -came from the coasts of <i>Italy</i>, I had almost forgot to handle my -sculls.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_127">{127}</a></span> There came a sneaking ghost here, some a day or two or three -ago, and he surpriz’d me with an account, (I may call it indeed a -terrible one) that you have had a maiden-sessions in your metropolis. -Was it then possible that <i>Newgate</i> should be without a rogue, or our -patron, the most worshipful Sir <i>Senseless Lovel</i> without any execution -in his mouth? You talk of having hang’d <i>Tyburn</i> in mourning: Why cousin -<i>Catch</i>, upon my sincerity, and for fear you should question my -veracity, by the thickest mud in <i>Acheron</i>, I swear, it is almost high -time that my boat was in mourning. What, he upon the bench and no man -hang’d! Well, as assuredly as the blood of the horses will rise up in -judgment against our friend <i>Whitney</i>: this maiden-sessions shall rise -up in judgment against him. Such shoals as I have had from time to time, -meer sacrifices to his avarice or his malice, that unless his conscience -begins to fly in his face, I cannot comprehend what should occasion this -calm at the <i>Old-Baily</i>: For give me leave, dear cousin, to tell you, -that formerly he never sav’d any man for his money, but hang’d another -in his room; trading was then pretty good, cousin, and there was a penny -to be got; but indeed, on your side it is very dull: nay, in <i>Flanders</i> -too, that fertile soil of blood and wounds, there has not one leg nor -one arm been brought us all this summer. Prithee be you <i>Charon</i>, and -let me be recorder, I’ll warrant you somewhat more to do.</p> - -<h2><a id="From_Sir_Bartholomew_8212_to_the_Worshipful_Serjeant_S82128212_By_the"></a><i>From Sir</i> <span class="smcap">Bartholomew</span>—— <i>to the Worshipful Serjeant</i> S——. <i>By the -same Hand.</i></h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HE friendship that was between us formerly, equally obliges me to give -you a relation of my travels, and assures me of its welcome. Since my -peregrination from your factious regions, I have palled over various and -stupendious lakes; the roads are somewhat dark indeed, but the continued -exhalations of those amazing streams, make the travellers able to pass, -without running foul of one another. But ’tis equally remarkable, -considering the length and darkness of the passage, that no person was<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_128">{128}</a></span> -ever cast away on this river <i>Styx</i>, as I am credibly inform’d by the -ferryman, who has ply’d here time out of mind. The dogs are pretty rife -in this country, and full as insufferable as ever they were among you: I -unfortunately forgot my lozenge-box, and have much impair’d my lungs; -but they assure me, that these defluxions of rheums never kill. ’Tis -prodigious, I protest, brother, to see how soon we learn the language, -or rather jargon of the place! how fast they come in from all parts of -the habitable world! And yet there is but one boat neither, and that no -bigger than above-bridge-wherry. At my coming ashoar, I was very -familiarly entertain’d, and directed to an apartment in <i>Cocytus</i>: But -there was not one corner in all my passage, but I met some or other of -the wrangling fraternity of <i>Westminster</i>. I immediately suggested to -myself, that there might be (peradventure) a call of serjeants by his -majesty <i>Pluto</i>, who is sovereign of these gloomy regions; and who -besides his general residence here, has a most magnificent palace about -twenty miles off, at <i>Erebus</i>, on the side of the river <i>Phlegethon</i>. He -is one of a somewhat stern aspect, not easy of access; haughty in his -deportment, and barbarous to the last degree in his nature. There is no -sort of people he sets so much by, as those of our profession, tho’ I -have not heard of any lawyer that had the honour to be in his cellar as -yet. Our old friend and fellow-toper judge <i>D</i>—— has very good -business here, upon my word, as likely to be preferr’d, as vacancies -happen; for ’tis always term-time in this kingdom throughout; and -besides, when he had his <i>quietus</i> sent him by the hands of Sir -<i>Thin-chops Mors</i>, you and I remember very well, that he had not the -best reputation for a man of parts. In the crowd of our pains-taking -brethren in the litigious school, I remark’d an innumerable quantity -that I was not quite an utter stranger to their faces, more -particularly, Mr. <i>Fil</i>——, who, you know, did not want for sense, wit, -law, and good manners; and yet had so profound a genious, that he could -dispatch more business, and more wine in one night’s time, than <i>Bob. -Weeden</i> would have wish’d for a patrimony: He very humanly accosted me, -and after a million of mutual civilities, he forced me to accept of my -mornings draught with him.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_129">{129}</a></span> At night you know, I never refuse my bottle; -but for morning tippling, it was always my aversion, my abomination, my -hatred, my <i>noli me tangere</i>: Besides, the dismal prospect of the place, -gave me many shrewd suspicions, that those taverns were not furnish’d -with the best accommodations, neither for man’s meat, or horse meat -either; not that I had the vanity to take my coach with me neither, but -’tis to use an old proverb, that as yet I have not blotted out of my -memory. I had hardly disengag’d myself from his civilities, but Mr. -<i>Nicholas Hard—</i> mighty gravely admonish’d me of his former -familiarity, and with an air that was no ways contumelious, desir’d to -know how <i>F</i>—— preach’d, and <i>Burg</i>—— pray’d; whether the grave Dr. -<i>W</i>—— continued his pious endeavours to convert the martyr’d men of -his parish from the crying and heinous sin of <i>ebriety</i>; and yet at the -same instant almost, to contrive plausible ways and means of perverting -the modest and chaste propensities of their respective wives; and while -they would not quietly let their husbands be (by accident of good -company, or good wine) beasts, for but a few transitory nocturnal hours, -could yet drive to make them so beyond a possibility of redress; for -amongst friend, (brother) what collateral security can an honest, -prudent, wary, wise, good, upright, understanding, cautious, indulgent, -loving husband take, when that same godly man in black twirls his -primitive band-strings, and with his other hand has your dear spouse, -your help-mate, the wife of your bosom, the partner of your bed, by the -conscience, and somewhat else that begins with the same letter? ’Twas -not want of leisure, (for alas! and alack) we have supernumerary hours -here; but pretended curiosity, (the last thing that dies with us but -hypocrisy) made me cut short the harangue, that this precise attorney -seem’d by his demureness to expect from me: So, in short, I told him, -that his fellow-companions at six o’ clock prayers had not forgot him; -and by what I could understand from those that were last with me, the -pew-keeper lamented his loss extreamly: nay, was inconsolable, for now -he was forced to use a pailful of water extraordinary once a week more -in the church than formerly; because he had gotten to such a perfection -in hy<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_130">{130}</a></span>pocrisy, that what his knees did not rub clean, his eyes always -wash’d clean: but for his father’s comfort, since he was got clear of -his <i>super-tartarian</i> concern, money was fallen, and his dearest darling -sin of all, extortion, was not a little under the hatches: but that he -might not be quite cast down, there was some seeds of it left still, -that would always keep old <i>Charon</i> well employ’d. I had hardly bless’d -myself for having got rid of him, but a merry fellow (not to say -impertinent and sawcy to one of my capacity, volubility, and eloquence; -character, conduct, and reputation) pull’d me by the coif; but as in -strange places ’tis prudence to pass by small affronts and indignities, -because want of acquaintance is worse than want of knowledge; and the -law, you know brother, is not so expensive, as it is captious in the -main; not but that our industry does help it mightily to the one, if we -find it to be the other. Now who should this <i>Caitiff</i> be, but <i>Harry -C——ff</i> the attorney; and all his mighty business was to know how his -laundress did; and if the maid got the better of her in the legacy he -gave her for her last consolations. Before I could recollect the secret -history of his amours, I was very courteously address’d by Mr. Common -Serjeant <i>C——p</i>, who likewise in a florid stile, requested me to -inform him, if any of his modern bawds, that so punctually attended him, -had suffer’d any prejudice by his absence: He was mightily in doubt of -their success, because experience had taught him, that <i>paupers</i> in -matters of law proceed but heavily; however, he could but wish them -well, because that tho’ they were bad clients, he had always found them -good procurators—— My lady <i>Tysiphone</i> made a sumptuous entertainment, -and the countess of <i>Clotho</i> danc’d smartly; the king of <i>Spain</i> -resented mightily that so many <i>English</i> were there, and had almost bred -a quarrel; but <i>Don Sebastian</i> king of <i>Portugal</i>, made up the matter, -by declining the <i>Spanish</i> faction, and said, it was highly unjust that -the <i>English</i> should be male-treated in their universal interest, -because he was a fool, and the cardinal that made his will a knave, and -the king of <i>France</i> a tyrant. But the catastrophe of this fit of the -spleen of the supercilious <i>Spaniard</i> was comical enough; for in the -crowd that was come together upon<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_131">{131}</a></span> the notice of his heart-burning, who -should stumble upon one another but <i>Godfrey Wood</i>—— the attorney, who -you may remember (brother) was committed for saying to a certain lord -chancellor, that he was his first maker; tho’ the truth of the matter -was, their intimacy at play made him presume to beg the small favour of -his lordship, to pass an unjust decree in favour of his client. Well, -Sir, said the attorney to his lordship, now you are without your mace, I -must tell you, that had not you invited me to supper the same day you -sent me to the <i>Fleet</i>, I should have taken the freedom to have let you -known, that in this king’s dominions we are all equal. I left ’em hard -at all-fours for a quart of <i>Acheron</i>, where they bite their nails like -mad, and divert others with their passion and concern—— But the -postillion is mounting, and I must defer the rest of my adventurers to -the next opportunity.</p> - -<p class="fint"><i>The End of the first Part.</i></p> - -<p class="c"> -<img src="images/colophon2.jpg" -style="margin-top:3em;" -width="275" -alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_132">{132}</a></span></p> - -<h2> -<img src="images/contents.jpg" -width="450" -alt="[Image unavailable.]" /> -<br /> -<a id="LETTERS2"></a><span class="ltspc">LETTERS</span><br /><br /> -<small>F R O M   T H E</small><br /><br /> -<span class="ltspc"><span class="smcap">Dead</span> to the <span class="smcap">Living</span>.</span></h2> - -<hr /> -<h2><a id="Part_II"></a><span class="smcap">Part II.</span></h2> -<hr /> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang"><i>A Letter from Seignior</i> <span class="smcap">Giusippe Hanesio</span>, <i>High-German Doctor and -Astrologer in</i> Brandinopolis, <i>to his Friends at</i> <span class="smcap">Will</span><i>’s -Coffee-House in</i> Covent-Garden. <i>By Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Tho. Brown</span>.</p></div> - -<p><i>Gentlemen</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">U</span>NLESS my memory fails me since my coming into these subterranean -dominions, ’twas much about this time last year, that I did myself the -honour to write to you: perhaps you expected a frequenter commerce from -me; and indeed, I should have been very proud to have maintained it on -my side, since nothing so much relieves me in these gloomy regions, as -to reflect on the many pleasant moments I have formerly pass’d in -<i>Covent-Garden</i>; but, alas! gentlemen, not to mention the great -difficulty of keeping such a correspondence, our lower world is nothing -near so fruitful in news as yours; one single sheet of paper will almost -contain the occurrences of a whole year; and were it not for the -numerous crowds of <i>Spaniards</i>, <i>French</i>, <i>Poles</i>, <i>Germans</i>, &c. that -daily arrive here, and entertain us with the transactions of <i>Europe</i>, -hell would be as melancholy a place as <i>Westminster-Hall</i> in the long -vacation; and the generality of people among us would have as little to<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_133">{133}</a></span> -employ their idle hours, as a lord-treasurer in <i>Scotland</i>, or a barber -in <i>Muscovy</i>. Besides, to speak more particularly, as to myself, that -everlasting hurry and tide of business, wherein I hive been overwhelm’d -ever since I honour’d myself with the title of <i>High-German</i> doctor and -astrologer, does so entirely challenge all my time, that if you will -take my word, (and I hope you don’t suspect a person of my veracity) I -am forc’d, at this present writing, to deny myself to all my patients, -tho’ there are at least some half a score coaches with coronets waiting -now at my door, that I might receive no interruption from any visitants, -while I was dispatching this epistle to you.</p> - -<p>My last, gentlemen, as you may easily remember, if you have not buried -such a trifle in oblivion, concluded with my taking a large house here -in <i>Brandinopolis</i>, and setting up for a physician and fortune-teller: I -shall now proceed to acquaint you, by what laudable artifices and -stratagems I advanced myself into that mighty reputation; in which, to -the admiration of this populous town, I at present flourish; what -notable cures I have performed, what sort of customers chiefly resort to -me; and lastly, To give you a short account of the most memorable -occurrences that have lately happen’d in these parts.</p> - -<p>By the direction of my worthy friend, Mr. <i>Nokes</i>, who liberally -supply’d me with money to carry on this affair, I took a spacious house -in the great <i>Piazza</i> here, then empty by the death of one of the most -eminent physicians of this famous city. This you must own to me, -gentlemen, was as favourable a step at my first setting out, as a man -could possibly wish; for you cannot be ignorant how many sorry brothers -of the faculty in <i>London</i> keep their coaches, and wriggle themselves -into business, with no other merit to recommend them, than that of -dwelling in the same house where a celebrated doctor lived before them. -For this reason, I suppose, it was, (if you can pardon so short a -digression) that the popes came to monopolize the ecclesiastical -practice of the western world to themselves, by succeeding so great a -bishop as St. <i>Peter</i>. So much is the world govern’d by appearances, and -so apt to be cheated, as if knowledge and learning were bequeath’d to -one house or place; and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_134">{134}</a></span> like a piece of common furniture, went to the -next inhabiter.</p> - -<p>But to dismiss this speculation, which perhaps may seem somewhat odd, -from a man of my merry character; having provided my house with every -thing convenient, adorn’d my hall with the pictures of <i>Galen</i>, -<i>Hippocrates</i>, <i>Albumazar</i>, and <i>Paracelsus</i>; cramm’d my library with a -vast collection of books, in all arts and languages, (tho’ under the -rose be it spoken, my worthy friends, your humble servant does not -understand a syllable of them) furnish’d it with a pair of globes -curiously painted, with the <i>exuviæ</i> of two or three <i>East-India</i> -animals, a rattlesnake and a crocodile; and set up a fine elaboratory in -my court-yard. In short, after having taken care to set off my hall, -parlour and study, with all those noble decorations that serve to amuse -the multitude, and create strange ideas in them, I order’d a spacious -stage to be erected before my own habitation, got my bills ready -printed, together with a long catalogue of the cures perform’d by me, -during the time of my practising physick in your upper world; and then I -broke out with a greater expectation and <i>eclat</i> than any doctor before -me was ever known to do.</p> - -<p>Three or four weeks before I made my appearance in publick, which, as I -told you before, I intended to make with all the magnificence -imaginable, Mr. <i>Nokes</i> and I, in conjunction with my brother comedian, -<i>Tony Lee</i>, laid our heads together, how to sham me upon the town for a -<i>virtuoso</i>, a miracle-monger, and what not. To favour this design, we -sent for three or four topping apothecaries to the tavern, gave them a -noble collation, and when half a dozen bumpers of wine had got us a free -admission into their hearts, we fairly let them into the secret; which -was, That they were to trumpet me up in all coffee-houses and places of -publick resort in town, for the ablest physician that ever came into -these parts; and as one kindness justly challenges another, I for my -part was to write bills as tall as the monument, and charge them with -the most costly medicines, tho’ they signify’d nothing at all to the -patient’s recovery. In short, the bargain was immediately struck up -between us; and those worthy gentlemen, I’ll say that for them, have not -been<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_135">{135}</a></span> wanting to proclaim my extraordinary merits to all their -acquaintance.</p> - -<p>This was not all; but Mr. <i>Nokes</i>, who was resolv’d at any rate to -introduce me into business, coming into one of the best frequented -chocolate-houses near the court, (for <i>Brandinopolis</i>, you must know, is -a perfect transcript of your wicked city) on a sudden pretends to be -troubled with intolerable gripings of the guts; and acted his part so -dextrously, that all the company pitied him, and thought he would expire -upon the spot. Immediately two or three doctors were sent for; who, -after a tedious consultation, at last pitch’d upon a never-failing -remedy, as they were pleas’d to call it; which accordingly they apply’d, -but without the desired effect. As his pains still continued upon him, -<i>What</i>, says he, <i>must I die here for want of help? And is there never -another physician to be had for love nor money?</i> With that a certain -gentleman, that was posted there for that purpose, Sir, says he, there’s -a <i>German</i> doctor lately come here, but for my part, I dare not -recommend him to you, for he’s a perfect stranger to us, and no body -knows him. <i>Oh, send for him, send for him</i>, cries Mr. <i>Nokes</i>, <i>these</i> -German <i>doctors are the finest fellows in the world; who can tell but he -may give me present ease?</i> Upon this, a messenger was hurried to me with -all expedition: I told him I would come so soon as I had dispatch’d a -patient or two; and in a quarter of an hour came thundering to the door -in my chariot, and all the way pored upon a little book I carried in my -hands; tho’ I must frankly own to you, that a coach is as uncomfortable -a place to read, as to consummate in; but, gentlemen, ’tis with us here, -as in your world, nothing is to be done without policy and trick: -marching into the room with that gravity and solemn countenance, which -we physicians know so well to put on upon these occasions, and brushing -thro’ a numerous crowd of spectators, who stood there, expecting to see -what would be the result of this affair, I found Mr. <i>Nokes</i> in such -terrible agonies, that any man would have swore he could not out-live -another minute. I felt his pulse, and told him, that by the -irregularities of his systole, and unequal vibration of his diastole, I -knew as well what ail’d him,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_136">{136}</a></span> as if I had seen him taken to pieces like -a watch; and plucking a small chrystal bottle out of my pocket, Sir, -says I to him, take some half a score drops of this <i>Anodyne Elixir</i>, -and I’ll engage all I am worth in the world, it will immediately relieve -you. But, under favour, Sir, to give you some short account of it before -you take it, you must understand, Sir, ’tis composed of two costly and -sovereign ingredients, which no man, besides myself, dares pretend to. -The first, Sir, is the celebrated balsam of <i>Chili</i>, (tho’ by the by, -the devil a jot of balsam, comes from that <i>Pagan</i> place) and the -second, Sir, that most excellent cephalick, which the mongrelian -physicians call, the <i>electrum</i> of <i>Samogitia</i>, gather’d at certain -seasons, Sir, upon the shore of the <i>Deucalidonian</i> ocean, by the -<i>Ciracassian</i> fishermen. Mr. <i>Nokes</i> listned to this edifying discourse -with wonderful attention, then followed my direction; and before you -could count twenty, got upon his legs, took a few turns about the room, -cut a caper a yard high, and kindly embracing me, doctor, says he, I am -more obliged to you, than words are able to express; you have delivered -me from the most intolerable pains that ever poor wretch groan’d under: -and then presenting me with a purse of guineas, I hope you’ll be pleas’d -to accept of this small trifle, till I am in a capacity of making you a -better acknowledgment: However, to express in some measure my gratitude -to yourself, as likewise to shew my regard for the publick welfare, I -will take care to get the extraordinary cure advertised in the -<i>Gazette</i>, and other publick papers. I told him he had more than paid me -for so inconsiderable a a matter, adding, That I was at his service -whenever he or any of his friends would do me the honour to send for me; -and so took my leave of him.</p> - -<p>This miraculous operation (for so they were pleased to christen it) -occasion’d a great deal of talk in the town, very much to my advantage; -but what happen’d three days after, perfectly confirm’d all sorts of -people, that I was a <i>Non-pareil</i> in my profession, and out-went all -that ever pretended to physick before me.</p> - -<p><i>Tony Lee</i>, who, as I told you in my last, keeps a conventicle in this -infernal world, and was engag’d as well as my brother <i>Nokes</i> in the -confederacy to serve me, took<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_137">{137}</a></span> occasion to be surpris’d with apoplectick -fits in the beginning of his sermon; he had hardly split and divided his -text, according to the usual forms, but his eyes rowl’d in his head, -every muscle in his face was distorted; he foam’d at mouth, fumbled with -the cushion, over-set the hour-glass, dropp’d his notes and bible upon -the clerk’s head, and at last down he sunk as flat as a flounder to the -bottom of the pulpit. ’Tis impossible to describe to you what a strange -consternation the auditory were in at this calamitous disaster that had -befallen their minister: the men stared at one another, as they had been -all bewitch’d; and the women set up such a hideous screaming and -roaring, that I question whether they would have done so much if a -regiment of dragoons had broke into the room to ravish them. The duchess -of <i>Mazarine</i> chafed his temples; Mother <i>Stratford</i> (of pious memory) -lugg’d a brandy-bottle out of her pocket, and rubb’d his nostrils; but -still poor <i>Tony</i> continu’d senseless, and without the least motion. -When they found all these means ineffectual, at last the whole -congregation unanimously resolv’d to send for me; who, according as it -had been agreed before-hand between us, soon brought my holy <i>Levite</i> to -his senses again, by applying a few drops of my aforesaid <i>Elixir</i> to -his temples. Honest <i>Tony</i> was no sooner recover’d, but I had the thanks -of the whole assembly; and a reverend elder in a venerable band, that -reach’d from shoulder to shoulder, offer’d me a handsome gratuity for my -pains; but I refus’d it, telling him, I look’d upon myself sufficiently -rewarded, since I had been the happy (tho’ unworthy) instrument in the -hand of providence (and then I turn’d up the whites of my eyes most -religiously towards Heaven) to save the life of so precious and powerful -a divine.</p> - -<p>This pair of miraculous cures flew thro’ every street, alley, and corner -of the town, like a train of gun-powder, with more expedition and -improvements, than scandal used, in my time, to walk about <i>Whitehall</i>; -and as it usually happens, in these cases, lost nothing in the relation. -The godly party much magnify’d me for refusing the unrighteous <i>mammon</i> -when it was offer’d me; my two trusty apothecaries talk’d of nothing but -the prodi<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_138">{138}</a></span>gies of seignior <i>Hanesio</i>; but my surest cards, the midwives -and nurses, when the sack-posset and brandy began to operate in their -noddles, thought they could never say enough in my commendation.</p> - -<p>Thus, gentlemen, I had abundantly secur’d to myself the reputation of a -great physician; and nothing now remain’d, but to make the world believe -I was personally acquainted with every star in the firmament, could -extort what confessions I pleas’d out of the planets; and was no less -skill’d in astrology than in medicine. My never failing friend <i>Tony</i>, -was once more pleas’d to give me a lift upon this occasion. As the -dissenting ministers (you know) have the privilege to go into the -bed-chambers and closets of the ladies that resort to their meetings, -without the least offence or scandal, <i>Tony</i> spy’d his opportunity, when -the room was clear, rubb’d off with a gold watch, and some lockets of -the duchess of <i>Mazarine</i>’s. The things were immediately missing, but -who durst suspect a person of the pious Mr. <i>Lee</i>’s character and -function? In short, every servant in the family was threatened with the -rack; and the whole house, trunks, coffers, boxes, and all examin’d, -from the garret down to the cellar. The poor duchess took the loss of -her watch and lockets mightily to heart, kept her bed upon it for a -fortnight; but at last was perswaded to make her application to my -worship. I told her, <i>sur le champ</i>, that her things were safe, that the -party who made bold with them, being troubled with compunctions of -conscience, had not sold but hid them under such a tree, which I -described to her in queen <i>Proserpine</i>’s park; and that if she went -thither next morning by break of day, she would find my words true. -Accordingly as I predicted, it happened to a tittle (for I had taken -care to lodge them there the night before). And now who was the -universal subject of people’s discourse, but the famous seignior -<i>Giusippe</i>.</p> - -<p>So that when the long expected day came, on which I was to make my -publick appearance, the streets, windows and balconies, were so cramm’d -with spectators of all sorts, that as often as I think on’t, I pity my -poor lord-mayor and aldermen with all my heart, that their -<i>Cheapside</i>-show shou’d fall so infinitely short of mine. <i>Tom -Shadwell</i>, who<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_139">{139}</a></span> still keeps up his musical talent in these gloomy -territories, began the entertainment with thrumming upon an old broken -theorbo, and merry Sir <i>John Falstaff</i> sung to him, and afterwards both -of them walk’d upon the slack rope, in a pair of jack-boots, to the -admiration of all the beholders. After the mob had been diverted for -some time with entertainments of this nature, and, particularly, by some -legerdemain tricks of <i>Appollonius Tyanæus</i>, my conjurer, being attended -by Dr. <i>Connor</i>, my toad-eater in ordinary, Mr. <i>Lobb</i>, the late -presbyterian parson, my corn-cutter; Sir <i>Patient Ward</i>, my -merry-andrew, and the famous <i>Mithridates</i> king of <i>Pontus</i>, my orator, -I mounted the stage, and bowing on each side me, paid my respects to the -noble company, in a most ceremonious manner. I was apparell’d in a black -velvet coat, trimm’d with large gold loops of the newest fashion, and -buttons as big as ostrich’s eggs; my muff was at least an ell long. I -travers’d my stage some half a score times, then cocking my beaver, and -holding up my cane close to my nose after the manner of us sons of -<i>Galen</i>, I harangu’d them as follows: In the first place I told them, -That it was not without the utmost regret, that I saw so many quacks and -nauseous pretenders to the faculty, daily impose upon the publick. That -neither ambition, self-interest, or the like sordid motive, had tempted -me to expose myself thus upon the theatre of the world; and that nothing -but a generous zeal to rescue medicine out of the hands of a pack of -rascals, that were a dishonour to it, and the particular respect I bore -to the inhabitants of the most renown’d city of <i>Brandinopolis</i>; who for -their good breeding and civility to strangers, were not to be equall’d -in any of <i>Pluto</i>’s dominions, had prevail’d over my natural modesty, -and drawn me out of my beloved obscurity; that lastly, I requested a -favourable construction upon this publick way of practice, which some -impudent emperics (whom I scorn to mention) had render’d scandalous; and -as I was a graduate in several universities, would have certainly -declin’d, but that my regard for the <i>salus populi</i> superseded all those -scruples; and made me rather hazard the loss of my reputation with some -censorious persons, than lose any opportunity of exerting my utmost -abilities for the benefit of mankind.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_140">{140}</a></span></p> - -<p>When this harangue was over, I withdrew, and left the rest of the -ceremony to be perform’d by my orator <i>Mithridates</i>, who descanted a -long while upon my great experience and skill, my travels, and great -adventures in foreign countries; the testimonials, certificates, medals, -and the like favours, I had receiv’d from most of the crown’d heads and -princes in the universe. And when this was over, order’d <i>Matt. -Gilliflower</i> and <i>Dick Bently</i>, two of my footmen to disperse printed -copies of my bill among the people, together with the catalogue of the -cures by me formerly perform’d in your upper hemisphere; both which -papers, because they contain something singular in them, and are written -above the common strain, I have given my self the trouble to transcribe.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="c"> -<i>Thesaurum & talentum ne abscondas in agro.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p class="hang"> -<i>Signior</i> <span class="smcap">Guisippe Hanesio</span>, High German <i>Astrologer -and Chymist; seventh son of a son, unborn doctor of -above sixty years experience, educated at twelve universities, -having travelled thro’ fifty two kingdoms, and -been counsellor to counsellors of several monarchs</i>. -</p> - -<p class="c"> -<i>Hoc juris publici in communem utilitatem publicum fecit.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">W</span>HO by the blessing of <i>Æsculapius</i> on his great pains, travels, -and nocturnal lucubrations, has attain’d to a greater share of -knowledge than any person before him was ever known to do.</p> - -<p><i>Imprimis</i>, Gentlemen, I present you with my universal solutive, or -<i>Cathartic Elixir</i>, which corrects all the cacochymic and -cachexical diseases of the intestines; cures all internal and -external diseases, all vertiginous vapours, hydrocephalus, -giddiness, or swimming of the head, epileptic fits, flowing of the -gall, stoppage of urine, ulcers in the womb and bladder; with many -other distempers, not hitherto distinguish’d by name.</p> - -<p><i>Secondly</i>, My friendly pill, call’d, <i>the never failing -Heliogenes</i>, being the tincture of the sun, and deriving vigour, -influence and dominion, from the same light; it causes all -complexions to laugh or smile, even in the very time of taking it; -which it effects, by dilating and expanding the gelastic muscles, -first of all discover’d by my self. It dulcifies the whole mass of -the blood, maintains its</p></div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 349px;"> -<a href="images/ill_015.jpg"> -<img src="images/ill_015.jpg" width="349" height="600" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_141">{141}</a></span></p> - -<p class="nind">circulation, reforms the digestion of the chylon, fortifies the -opthalmic nerves, clears the officina intelligentiæ, corrects the -exorbitancy of the spleen, mundifies the hypogastrium, comforts the -sphincter, and is an excellent remedy against the prosopochlorosis, -or green-sickness, sterility, and all obstructions whatever. They -operate seven several ways in, order, as nature herself requires; -for they scorn to be confin’d to any particular way of operation, -<i>viz.</i> hypnotically; by throwing the party into a gentle slumber; -hydrotically by their operitive faculty, in opening the interstitia -pororum; carthartically, by cleansing the bowels of all crudities -and tartarous mucilage, with which they abound; proppysmatically, -by forcing the wind downward; hydragogically, by exciting urine; -pneumatically, by exhilerating the spirits; and lastly, -synecdochically, by corroborating the whole <i>oeconomia animalis</i>. -They are twenty or more in every tin-box, sealed with my coat of -arms, which are, <i>Three clyster pipes erect</i> gules, <i>in a field -argent</i>; my crest, <i>a bloody hand out of a mortar, emergent</i>; and -my supporters, <i>a Chymist and an Apothecary</i>. This <i>Tinctura -Solaris</i>, or most noble off-spring of <i>Hyperion</i>’s golden -influence, wipes off abstersively all those tenacious, -conglomerated, sedimental sordes, that adhere to the œsophagus and -viscera, extinguishes all supernatural ferments and ebullitions; -and, in fine, annihilates all the nosotrophical or morbific ideas -of the whole corporeal <i>compages</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Thirdly</i>, My <i>Panagion Outacousticon</i>, or auricular restorative: -were it possible to show me a man so deaf, that if a demiculverin -were to be let off under his ear, he could not hear the report, yet -these infallible drops (first invented by the two famous -physician-brothers, St. <i>Cosmus</i>, and St. <i>Damian</i>, call’d the -<i>Anargyri</i> in the ancient <i>Greek</i> menologies; and some forty years -ago, communicated to me by <i>Anastasio Logotheti</i>, a <i>Greek</i> collier -at <i>Adrianople</i>, when I was invited into those parts to cure sultan -<i>Mahomet</i> IV. of an elephantiasis in his diaphragm) would recover -his auditive faculty, and make him hear as smartly as an old -fumbling priest, when a young wench gives him account of her lost -maiden-head at the confessional.</p> - -<p><i>Fourthly</i>, My <i>Anodyne Spirit</i>, excellent to ease pain, when taken -inwardly, and applied outwardly, excellent for any lameness, -shrinking or contraction of the nerves; for eyes,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_142">{142}</a></span> deafness, pain -and noise in the ears; and all odontalgic, as well as podagrical -inflammations.</p> - -<p><i>Fifthly</i>, My <i>Antidotus Antivenerealis</i>; which effectually cures -all gonorrheas, carnosities in the delinquent part, tumours, -phymosis, paraphymosis, christalline priapisms, hemorrhoids, -cantillamata, ragades, bubos, imposthumations, carbuncles, -genicular nodes, and the like, without either baths or stoves; as -also without mercury so often destructive to the poor patient, with -that privacy, that the nearest relation shall not perceive it.</p> - -<p><i>Sixthly</i>, My <i>Pectoral Lozenges</i>, or <i>Balsam</i> of <i>Balsams</i>, which -effectually carries off all windy and tedious coughs, spitting of -blood, wheezing in the larynx and ptyalismus, let it be never so -inveterate.</p> - -<p><i>Seventhly</i>, and <i>lastly</i>, My <i>Pulvis Vermifugus</i>, or <i>Antivermatic -Powder</i> brings up the rear, so famous for killing and bringing away -all sorts of worms incident to human bodies breaking their -complicated knots in the <i>duodenum</i>, and dissolving the phlegmatick -crudities that produce those anthropophagous vermin. It has brought -away, by urine, worms as long as the may-pole in the <i>Strand</i>, when -it flourish’d in its primitive prolixity, tho’, I confess, not -altogether so thick. In short, ’tis a specifick catholicon for the -cholick, expels winds by eructation, or otherwise; accelerates -digestion, and creates an appetite to a miracle.</p> - -<p>I dexterously couch the cataract or suffusion, extirpate wens of -the greatest magnitude, close up hair-lips, whether treble or -quadruple; cure the polipus upon the nose, and all scrophulous -tumours, cancers in the breast, <i>Noli me tangeri</i>’s, St. -<i>Anthony</i>’s fire, by my new invented <i>unguentum Antipyreticum</i>, -excrescences, or superfluous flesh in the mouth of the bladder or -womb; likewise I take the stone from women or maids without -cutting.</p> - -<p>I have steel trusses, and instruments of a new invention, together -with never-failing medicines and methods to cure ruptures, and knit -the peritonæum. And here I cannot forbear to communicate an useful -piece of knowledge to the world, which is, that with the learned -<i>Villipandus</i>, in his excellent treatise, <i>de congrubilitate -materiæ primæ cum confessione Augustana</i>, I take a rupture to be a -relaxation of the natural cavities, at the bottom of the cremaster -muscles. But this, <i>en passant</i>, I forge all<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_143">{143}</a></span> my self; nay my very -machines for safe and easy drawing teeth and obscure stumps. Mrs. -<i>Littlehand</i>, midwife to the princess of <i>Phlegethon</i>, can -sufficiently inform the women of my helps, and what I do for the -disruption of the fundament and uterus, and other strange -infirmities of the matrix, occasioned by the bearing of children, -violent coughing, heavy work, <i>&c.</i> which I challenge any person in -the <i>Acherontic</i> dominions to perform, but my self.</p> - -<p>If any woman be unwilling to speak to me, they may have the -conveniency of speaking to my wife, who is expert in all feminine -distempers. She has an excellent cosmetick water to carry off -freckles, sun-burn, or pimples; and a curious red pomatum to plump -and colour the lips. She can make red hair as white as a lilly; she -shapes the eyebrows to a miracle; makes low foreheads as high as -you please, has a never failing remedy for offensive breaths, a -famous essence to correct the ill scent of the arm-pits, a rich -water that makes the hair curl, a most delicate paste to smooth and -whiten the hands; also,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>A rare secret that takes away all warts,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>From the face, hands, fingers, and privy-parts.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Those who are not able to come to me, let them send their urine, -especially that made after midnight, and on sight of it, I will -tell them what their distemper is, and whether curable or no. Nay, -let a man be in never so perfect health of body, his constitution -never so vigorous and athletical, if he shews me his water, I can -as infallibly predict what distemper will first attack him, though -perhaps it will be thirty or forty years hence, as an astronomer, -by the rules of his science, can foretel solar or lunar eclipses -the year before they happen. I have predicted miraculous things by -the pulse, far above any philosopher: by it, I not only discover -the circumstances of the body; but if the party be a woman, I can -foretel how many husbands and children she shall have; if a -tradesman whether his wife will fortify his forehead with horns; -and so of the rest. This is not all, but I will engage to tell any -serious persons what their business is on every radical figure, -before they speak one word; what has already hap<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_144">{144}</a></span>pen’d to them from -their very infancy down to the individual hour of their consulting -me, what their present circumstances are, what will happen to them -hereafter; in what part of the body they have moles; what colour -and magnitude they are of; and lastly, how profited, that is, -whether they calminate equinoctially or horizontally upon the -<i>Mesogastrium</i>; from which place alone, and no other, as the -profound <i>Trismegistus</i> has observ’d before me, in his elaborate -treatise <i>de erroribus Styli Gregoriani</i>, all solid conjectures are -to be formed.</p> - -<p>I have likewise attained to the green, golden and black dragon, -known to none but magicians and hermatic philosophers; I tell the -meaning of all magical panticles, sigils, charms and lameness, and -have a glass, and help to further marriage; and what is more, by my -learning and great travels, I have obtained the true and perfect -seed and blossom of the female fern; and infinitely improv’d that -great traveller major <i>John Coke</i>’s famous necklaces for breeding -of teeth. The spring being already advanc’d, which is the properest -season for preventing new, and renewing old distempers, neglect not -this opportunity——</p> - -<p><i>My hours are from nine till twelve in the morning, and from two in -the afternoon till nine at night, every day in the week, except on -the real christian sabbath, called</i> Saturday.</p> - -<p class="c"> -<i>It may be of use to keep this advertisement.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>This, gentlemen, is an exact copy of my bill, which has been carefully -distributed all over this populous city, pasted upon the chief gates and -churches; and since dispersed by two running messengers, <i>Theophrastus -Paracelsus</i> and <i>Cornelius Agrippa</i>, all over king <i>Pluto</i>’s dominions. -I forgot to tell you, that finding it absolutely necessary to take me a -wife, (the women in certain cases that shall be nameless, being -unwilling to consult any but those of their own sex) I was advised by -some friends to make my applications to the famous <i>Cleopatra</i> queen of -<i>Egypt</i>, who being a person of great experience, and notably well -skill’d in the <i>Arcana</i>’s of nature, would in all probability make me an -admirable spouse. In short, after half a dozen meetings, rather for form -sake than any<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_145">{145}</a></span> thing else, the bargain was struck, and a match concluded -between her <i>Alexandrian</i> majesty and myself; cardinal <i>Wolsey</i>, who is -now curate of a small village, to the tune of four marks <i>per annum</i>, -and the magnificent perquisites of a bear and fiddle, perform’d the holy -ceremony: <i>Amphion</i> of <i>Thebes</i> diverted us at dinner with his crowd, -and all the while <i>Molinos</i>, the quietist, danced a <i>Lancashire</i> jigg. -Sir <i>Thomas Pilkington</i>, who, as I told you in my last, is become a most -furious rhime-tagger or versificator, composed the <i>epithilamium</i>; and -<i>Sardanapalus</i>, <i>Caligula</i>, <i>Nero</i>, <i>Heliogabalus</i>, and pope <i>Alexander</i> -VII. were pleas’d to throw the stocking. Her majesty, to do her a piece -of common justice, proves a most dutiful and laborious wife, spreads all -my plaisters, makes all my unguents, distills all my waters, and pleases -my customers beyond expression.</p> - -<p>Thus, gentlemen, you see my bill, by which you may guess whether I don’t -infinitely surpass those empty pretending quacks of your world, who -confine their narrow talent to one distemper, which they cure but by one -remedy; whereas all diseases are alike to me, and I have a hundred -several ways to extirpate them. I shall now trespass so far upon your -patience, as to present you with the catalogue of my cures, which being -somewhat singular, and out of the way, I have the vanity to believe will -not be unwelcome to you——</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang"><i>A true and faithful Catalogue of some remarkable Cures perform’d -in the other</i> World, <i>by the famous Signior</i> <span class="smcap">Giusippe Hanesio</span>, -<i>High-German</i> Doctor <i>and</i> Astrologer.</p></div> - -<p class="c">By <span class="smcap">Pluto</span>’s Authority.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Hic est quam legis, ille quam requiris,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Totis notus in inferis</i> <span class="smcap">Josephus</span>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">B</span>Ecause I am so much a person of honour and integrity, that even in -this lower world I would not forfeit my reputation, I desire my -incredulous adversaries (of which number, being a stranger to this -place, I presume I have but too many) to get if they can to the -upper re<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_146">{146}</a></span>gions, and satisfy themselves of the truth of my admirable -performances. To begin then with those of quality.</p> - -<p>Pope <i>Innocent</i> the eleventh was so strangely over run with a -complication of <i>Jansenism</i>, <i>Quietism</i>, and <i>Lutheranism</i>, that -not only his nephew, Don <i>Livio Odeschalchi</i>, but the whole sacred -consistory despaired of his recovery; I so mundify’d his -intellectuals with my catholick essence of <i>Hellebore</i>, that he -continued <i>rectus in cerebro</i> many years after; and if the <i>French</i> -ambassador, by making such a hubbub about his quarters, occasion’d -old infallibility to relapse, <i>Loüis le Grand</i> must answer for it, -and not signior <i>Giusippe</i>.</p> - -<p>I cured the late <i>Sophy</i> of <i>Persia</i>, <i>Shaw Solyman</i> by name, of a -<i>Febris Tumulenta</i>, so that he could digest the exactions and blood -of a whole province, hold his hand as steady as <i>Harry Killegrew</i> -after a quart of surfeit water in a morning; and if he dy’d -presently after, let his eunuchs and whores look to that, if one -with their politicks, and the other with their tails, spoil’d the -operation of my <i>Elixir magnum stomachicum</i>.</p> - -<p>I cured <i>Aureng-Zebe</i>, the old mogul, of an <i>epilepsia fanatica</i>, -with which he was afflicted to that degree, that patents were -dispatch’d, and persons named to go ambassadors extraordinary to -<i>William Pen</i>, <i>George Whitehead</i>, <i>William Mede</i>; the -<i>Philadelphians</i>, <i>Cameronians</i>, <i>Jesuits</i>, and <i>Jacobian -Whiskerites</i>, for a communication of diseases and remedies; but by -my cephalick snuff and tincture, I made him as clear headed a rake -as ever got drunk with classics at the university, or expounded -<i>Horace</i> in <i>Will</i>’s coffee-house; and messengers were sent thro’ -all his empire to get him <i>Dutry</i>, <i>Bung</i>, <i>Satyrion</i>, -<i>Cantharides</i>, <i>Whores</i>, and <i>Schyraz wine</i>; and if he has since -fallen down to his <i>Alcoran</i> and the flat effects of ninety seven -years of age, blame his damn’d courtiers and not me, that instead -of nicking the nice operation of the medicine, let in books and -priests, to debauch his understanding.</p> - -<p>I cured the <i>Mahometan</i> predestinarian <i>Sultan</i> of the great <i>East -India</i> island <i>Borneo</i>, of want of blood, by counselling him to -follow his inclinations and bathe in it, that he might restore -himself by spight and percolation; but vexations from his <i>Divan</i>, -the neighbour emperor of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_147">{147}</a></span> <i>China</i>, a saucy young jackanapes, and a -sorrel hair’d female gave him such jolts, that quite spoil’d the -continuance of the noblest cure in the world.</p> - -<p><i>Peter Alexowitz</i>, present czar of <i>Muscovy</i>, fell ill of a -<i>Calenture</i> in <i>London</i>, occasion’d by putting too great a quantity -of gun-powder into his usquebaugh, and pepper into his brandy; all -the topping doctors of the town were sent for, and apply’d their -<i>Cortex</i> and <i>Opium</i> to no purpose. What should I do in this pinch, -but order’d a hole to be made in the <i>Thames</i> for him, as they do -for the ducks in St. <i>James’s-Park</i>, it being then an excessive -frost, sous’d him over head and ears morning and night, and by this -noble experiment not only recovered him, but likewise gave a hint -to the setting up of a cold-bath near Sir <i>John Oldcastle</i>’s which -has done such miracles since.</p> - -<p>I cured a noble peer, aged sixty seven, of a perpetual priapism, so -that now his pimping valets, and footmen, his bawds, spirit of -<i>Clary</i>, and a maidenhead of fourteen can hardly raise him, who -before was scarce to be trusted with his own family; nay, his own -wife: and now he’s as continent and virtuous a statesman as ever -lin’d his inward letchery with outward gravity.</p> - -<p>A noble peeress, that lives not full a hundred miles from St. -<i>James</i>’s square, in the sixty sixth year of her age, was seiz’d -with a <i>furor uterinus</i>; by plying her ladyship with a few drops of -my <i>Antepyretical Essence</i>, extracted from a certain vegetable -gathered under the artic pole, and known to no body but myself, I -perfectly allay’d this preternatural ferment; and now she lies at -quiet, tho’ both her hands are unty’d as a new swaddled babe, and -handles no rascals but <i>Pam</i>, and his gay fellows of the cards.</p> - -<p><i>Honoraria Frail</i>, eldest daughter to my old lady <i>Frail</i> of -<i>Red-Lyon-Square</i>, by too prodigally distributing <i>les dernieres -feveurs</i> to her mother’s sandy pated coachman and pages, had so -strangely dilated the gates <i>du citadel d’amour</i>, that one might -have marched a regiment of dragoons thro’ them. Her mother, who was -in the greatest perplexities imaginable upon the score of this -disaster, sent to consult me: With half a dozen drops of my <i>Aqua -Styptica</i>, <i>Hymenealis</i>, I so contracted all the avenues of the -aforesaid citadel, that the <i>Yorkshire</i> knight that marry’d her, -spent above a hundred small-shot against the walls, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_148">{148}</a></span> bombarded -the fortress a full fortnight before he cou’d enter it; and now -they are the happiest couple within the bills of mortality.</p> - -<p>I renewed the youth from the girdle downwards of madam <i>de -Maintenon</i>, so that she afforded all the delights imaginable, to -her old grand lover in imagination, and to the younger bigots and -herself in reality: while her face still remain’d as great an -object of mortification as her beads, death’s-head, and discipline; -and this noble cure still remains to be view’d by all the world.</p> - -<p><i>Harry Higden</i> of the <i>Temple</i>, counsellor, was so miserably -troubled with the long vacation disease, or the <i>defectus crumenæ</i>, -that the sage benchers of the house threatned to padlock his -chamber door for non-payment of rent. He asked my advice in this -exigence: I, who knew the full strength of his furniture, which -consisted of a rug, two blankets, a joint-stool, and a -tin-candlestick, that served him for a piss-pot when revers’d, -counselled him to take his door off the hinges, and lock it up in -his study. He followed my advice, and by that means escaped the -abovemention’d ostracism of the padlock.</p> - -<p><i>Margaret Cheatly</i>, bawd, match-maker, and mid-wife of -<i>Bloomsbury</i>, by immoderate drinking of strong-waters, had got a -nose so termagantly rubicund, that she out-blazed the comet: my -cosmetic <i>Florentine-unguent</i>, absolutely reform’d this -inflammation, and now she looks as soberly as a dissenting -minister’s goggle-ey’d convenience.</p> - -<p><i>Jerry Scandal</i>, whale and ghost printer in <i>White-Friers</i>, had -plagued the town above ten years with apparitions, murders, -catechisms, and the like stuff; by showing him the phiz of terrible -<i>Robin</i> in my green magic-glass, I so effectually frighted him, -that he has since demolish’d all his letters, dismissed his -hawkers, flung up his business, and instead of news, cries -flounders and red-herrings about the streets.</p> - -<p><i>Joachim Hazard</i>, of <i>Cripplegate</i> parish in <i>White-cross-street</i>, -almost at the farther end near <i>Old-street</i>, turning in at the sign -of the <i>White Crow</i> in <i>Goat-alley</i>, strait forward, down -three-steps at the sign of the <i>Globe</i>, was so be-devil’d with the -spirit of lying, that he out-did two hard mouth’d evidences in -their own profession, and could not open his mouth without -romancing; I made him<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_149">{149}</a></span> snuff up some half a score drops of my -<i>Elixir Alethinum</i>, and now he has left off fortune-telling and -astrology, and is return’d to his primitive trade of weaving.</p> - -<p><i>Farmer Frizzle-pate</i>, of <i>Bullington</i>, near <i>Andover</i>, had been -blind thirty five years and upwards; my <i>Ophthalmick</i> drops -restor’d him to his sight in a minute, and now he can read a -<i>Geneva</i> bible without spectacles. A certificate of this miraculous -cure, I have under the hand of the parson of the parish, and his -amen-curler.</p> - -<p>I cured a <i>Kentish</i> parson of an <i>Infirmitas Memoriæ</i>, which he got -by a jumble of his <i>Glandula Pinealis</i>, after a bowl of punch and a -boxing-bout. He was reduc’d to that deplorable condition, as to -turn over play-books instead of his concordance, quote <i>Quæ Genus</i> -instead of St. <i>Austin</i>; nay, he forgot tythe-eggs, demanded -<i>Easter</i> dues at <i>Martinmas</i>, bid <i>Bartholomew-Fair</i> instead of -<i>Ash-Wednesday</i>; and frequently mistook the service of matrimony, -for that of the dead: what is yet more surprising, he forgot even -to drink over his left thumb; but now he has as staunch a memory, -as a pawn-broker for the day of the month; a country attorney for -mischief; or a popish clergyman for revenge.</p> - -<p>I cured serjeant <i>Dolthead</i>, of a prodigious itch in the palms of -his hands: A most wonderful cure! for now he refuses fees, as -heartily as a young wench does an ugly fellow, when she has a -handsome one in view; his attorney is run mad, his wife is turn’d -bawd to take double fees; and his daughters mantua-makers and -whores, to get by two trades.</p> - -<p>An eminent coach-keeping physician was troubled with a <i>Farrago -Medicinarum</i>, or a <i>Tumor Prescriptionalis</i> to that monstrous -degree, that he writ bills by the ell, and prescribed medicines by -the hogshead and wheelbarrow-full. To the amazement of all that -knew him: I have effectually cured him on’t; for he now writes but -three words, prescribes but two scruples, leaves people to a -wholesome kitchen-diet, and nature has undone the sexton and -funeral undertaker; and the overstock’d parish has petitioned the -privy-council to send out a new coloney to the <i>West-Indies</i>.</p> - -<p>I cured a certain head of a college, of a <i>Hebetude Cerebri</i>; so -that he now jokes with the bachelors and junior<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_150">{150}</a></span> fry, goes to the -dancing-school with the fellow-commoners; and next act will be able -to make a whole <i>terræ filius</i>’s speech himself.</p> - -<p>An apothecary in <i>Cheapside</i>, was so strangely over-run with an -<i>Inundatio Veneni</i>, that the grass grew in the parish round him; -but now, thanks to the cure I wrought upon him, he has reduc’d his -shop to the compass of a raree-show, gets but ten pence in the -shilling, let the neighbouring infants grow up to men; and is going -to build an hospital for decay’d prize-fighters and dragoons.</p> - -<p>I cured a vintner behind the <i>Exchange</i>, of a <i>Mixtura Diabolica</i>, -so that now he hates apples as much as our forefather after his -kick on the arse out of paradice; shuns a drugster’s shop, as much -as a broken cit does a serjeant; swears he’ll clear but ten -thousand pounds in five years, and then set up for psalm-singing, -and sleeping under the pulpit.</p> - -<p>I cured a <i>Norfolk</i> attorney of the <i>Scabies Causidico Rabularies</i>, -another prodigious cure never perform’d before; so that now he’s as -quiet as a cramb’d capon among barn door hens, he won’t so much as -scratch for his food; his uncle the counseller has disinherited -him; and since he has listed himself for a foot soldier.</p> - -<p>I cured an <i>Amsterdam</i> burgomaster’s wife of barrenness, so that -now she has two children at a birth; besides a brace of sooterkins -every year, and even now in these low-countries (so effectual are -my remedies) I am teaz’d with daily messages, for astringents and -flood gates, to help the poor pains-taking mortal in his aquatic -situation.</p> - -<p><i>Pierre Babillard</i>, <i>French</i> valet and pimp in ordinary to my lord -<i>Demure</i>, was troubled with the <i>Glosso-mania</i>, or that epidemical -disease of <i>Normandy</i>, the talking sickness. He not only prattled -all night in his sleep, but his clack went incessantly all day -long; the cook-maid and nurse were talk’d quite deaf by him; -whereas his master labour’d under the contrary extreme, and by his -good will wou’d not strike once in twenty four hours; by the most -stupendous operation that ever was known, (for the transfusion of -one animal’s blood into another, so much boasted of by the royal -society, is not to be compared to it) I transfused some of the -<i>French</i> valet’s loquacity into the noble peer,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_151">{151}</a></span> and some of the -noble peer’s taciturnity into the <i>French</i> valet; so that now, to -the great consolation of the family, my lord sometimes talks, and -Monsieur <i>Babillard</i> sometimes holds his tongue.</p> - -<p>Sir <i>Blunder Dullman</i>, professor of rhetorick, and orator to the -ancient city of <i>Augusta Trinobantum</i>, had been troubled, ever from -his infancy with that epidemical magistrate’s distemper, the <i>Bos</i> -in <i>Lingua</i>; so that whenever he made any speeches, the gentlemen -were ready to split their sides, and the ladies to bepiss -themselves with laughing at the singularities of his discourse. By -my <i>Pulvis Cephalicus</i>, I so far recover’d him, that he cou’d draw -up his tropes and metaphors in good order, and harangue you twenty -lines upon the stretch, without making above the same number of -blunders. If he has since relapsed, ’tis no fault of mine, but he -may e’en thank his city conversation for it.</p> - -<p><i>Dinah Fribble</i>, eldest daughter to <i>Jonathan Fribble</i> of -<i>Thames-street</i>, tallow-chandler, was so enormously given to the -language of old <i>Babylon</i>, that she would talk bawdy before her -mother, her grandmother, and godmother; nay, name the two beastly -monosyllables before the doctor and lecturer of the parish. Her -father, one of the worshipful elders of <i>Salters-hall</i>, wondered -how a child so religiously educated, fed from her cradle with the -crumbs of comfort, and lull’d daily asleep with <i>Hopkins</i> and -<i>Sternhold</i>, should labour under so obscene a dispensation. In -short, I was sent for, pour’d some twenty drops of my -<i>Anti-Asmodean</i> essence into her nostrils, and the next morning a -huge thundering <i>Priapus</i> eleven inches long, came out of her left -ear; she’s now perfectly recover’d, talks as piously, and behaves -herself as gravely as the demurest female in the neighbourhood.</p> - -<p><i>Daniel Guzzle</i>, Inn-keeper in <i>Southwark</i>, by perpetual tippling -with his customers, was so inordinately swell’d with a dropsy, that -Sir <i>John Falstaff</i>, in <i>Harry</i> the fourth, was a meer skeleton to -him. I tapp’d his <i>Heidelburg-Abdomen</i>, and so vast an inundation -issued from him, that if the stream had continued a quarter of an -hour longer, it would have overflowed the whole borough, and made a -second cataclysm. He is now perfectly cured, is as slender as a -beau that has been twice sa<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_152">{152}</a></span>livated for a shape; runs up the -monument some half a score times every morning for his diversion, -jumps thro’ a hoop, makes nothing of leaping over a five-barr’d -gate; and the famous Mr. <i>Barnes</i> of <i>Rotherhith</i> has enter’d him -into his company.</p> - -<p><i>Obadiah Hemming</i>, Taylor, at the sign of the <i>Red-Wastcoat</i> and -<i>Blazing-Star</i>, near <i>Tower-Hill</i>, was troubled with so unmerciful -a <i>Ptisick</i>, that no body in the family could sleep for him: I -ply’d him with my <i>Antitussient Pillula Pulmonaris</i>, but without -effect. I wondered how the devil my never-failing remedy -disappointed me! cries I to him, honest friend, what may your name -be? <i>Obadiah Hemming</i>, says he. Very well; and what parish do you -live in; <i>All-hallows-Barking</i>. Oh, ho! I have now found out the -secret how my pills came to miscarry; why, friend, thou hast a -damn’d ptisical name, and livest in a confounded ptisical parish: -come call thyself <i>Obadiah Bowman</i>, and get thee to <i>Hampstead</i>, -<i>Highgate</i>, or any place but <i>All-hallows-Barking</i>, and I’ll insure -thy recovery. He did so; and is so strangely improv’d upon it, that -he is since chosen into St. <i>Paul</i>’s choir, and begins to rival Mr. -<i>Goslin</i> and Mr. <i>Elford</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Rebbecca Twist</i>, Ribbon-Weaver, in <i>Drum-Alley, Spittle Fields</i>, -aged 75, by drinking anniseed-robin, geneva, and other ungodly -liquors, and smoaking mundungus, had so utterly decayed her natural -heat, that she had lain bed-rid thirty years, and on my conscience -a calenture would no more have warm’d her, than a farthing candle -would roast a sirloin of beef. I made so entire a renovation of her -with my <i>Arcanum Helmontio-Glaubero-Paracelsianum</i>, that she’s -become another creature, out-talks the parson and midwife at every -gossiping, dances to a miracle, never fails to give her attendance -at all merry meetings; and no sooner hears the noise of a fiddle, -but she frisks and capers it about, like a young hoyden of fifteen.</p> - -<p><i>Nehemiah Conniver</i>, one of the city reformers, was so totally -deform’d with the <i>Lepra Hypocritica</i>, that never a barber, -victualler, or taylor in the neighbourhood could live in quiet for -him. To the admiration of all that knew him, I have so effectually -cured him of this acid humour, that he will out-swear ten dragoons, -go to a bawdy-house<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_153">{153}</a></span> in the face of the sun; and out talk a score -of midwives in natural philosophy.</p> - -<p>Thus, gentlemen, you have my bill, and catalogue of cures, by which -you’ll easily perceive that our internal world is only a -counter-part of your’s, where hard words, impudence, and nonsense, -delivered with a magisterial air, carry every thing before them. I -should now according to the method proposed to myself, proceed to -give you a short account of what memorable occurrences have lately -happened in these <i>Acherontic</i> realms, but the vast crowds of -visitants at my door are so obstreporous and troublesome, that I -can conceal myself from them no longer. Be pleas’d, therefore, to -accept of this imperfect relation in part of payment, and next -month, when I shall have a better convenience of writing my -thoughts at large, I will endeavour to give you full satisfaction. -In the mean time, give me leave to assure you, that my highest -ambition is to honour myself with the title of,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Gentlemen,<br /><br /> -Your most obedient and<br /><br /> -most humble Servant</i>,<br /><br /> -<span class="smcap">Giusippe Hanesio</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="Sir_Fleetwood_Shepherd_to_Mr_Prior"></a><i>Sir</i> <span class="smcap">Fleetwood Shepherd</span> <i>to Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Prior</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span>T is some time since (you know) that I took my leave of you, and the -sun, and I fear’d of all good company too. My curiosity to observe the -nature of an affair, whereof every body talks, tho’ not one of them can -understand, made me so long silent; that if it were possible I might -give my friends some account or other that should be of moment to them, -either for diversion or improvement. Your weighty affairs prevent the -one, and your capacity the other; but that you may see friendship as -well as virtue survives the grave, I address this to you, to assure you, -we are not annihilated, as some philosophers opened, and that our -felicity does not consist in an unactive indolence as others as vainly -pretended. Virtue is its own reward,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_154">{154}</a></span> and vice its own punishment. We -are so refined here, that nothing can veil evil from the piercing eyes -of every body, and the malice and envy of the most inveterate devils -cannot over-cast the glories of the good. We impute a great many faults -to the frailty of the flesh very unjustly. The soul hath its warpings as -well as the clay, and some vices are so natural that we cannot -extinguish them, tho’ we may in some measure prevent their flaming out -and boiling over. These remain still, and employ all the utmost efforts -of our prudence to triumph over; and if we accomplish that, we are -perfect; but if the malignity of our tempers prevail, we sink to the -lowest abyss of infamy, shame, and disgrace. This laid the foundation of -that doctrine of <i>Rome</i>, called Purgatory; and their ignorance, joined -to their insatiable avarice, improved it to what at present you find it. -Here is one duke of <i>Buckingham</i>, perpetually conferring with the -<i>Spanish</i> ministers; the other as busy in finding out the mighty secrets -of impertinent curiosities; here’s <i>Mazarine</i> supplanting the liberty of -<i>Europe</i>, and <i>Cromwell</i> that of <i>England</i>. <i>Shaftsbury</i> is pushing on -<i>Monmouth</i>, and he is stiled king by one of his own footmen only; -<i>Dryden</i> is every minute at <i>Homer</i>’s heels, or pulling <i>Virgil</i> by the -sleeve, importuning <i>Horace</i>, or making friends to <i>Ovid</i>: but <i>Cowley</i>, -with a serenity of mind that constitutes his felicity, quietly passes -along the <i>Elysian</i> plains, disturbing no body, and undisturb’d of all, -<i>Milton</i> his companion, and himself his happiness. The less considerable -fry of wits are just as contentious here, as at <i>Covent Garden</i>; as -noisy, and as ill-natur’d; every man in particular arrogating all to -himself, and allowing nothing to others. The dispute rose so high, and -the uproar continued so long, that <i>Pluto</i> commanded a squadron of his -life-guard, with <i>Juvenal</i> at their head, to force them out of the -laurel-grove, and lock it up till matters should be adjusted by -<i>Apollo</i>, to whom he detach’d <i>Lucan</i> and <i>Lee</i> (as being the best -skill’d in flying) with his complaints; they are returned with a -proclamation, which for its novelty I will trouble you with; not but -that I think it might not improperly have been made on the other side of -<i>Parnassus</i>, unless matters are strangely mended since I left you.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_155">{155}</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang"> -We <i>Apollo</i>, by the Grace of <i>Jupiter</i>, Emperor of <i>Parnassus</i>, -King of Poetry, Sovereign Prince of Letters, -Duke of the <i>Muses</i>, Marquis of Light, and Earl of the -Four Seasons, <i>&c.</i> to all our Trusty and well Beloved -Explorers of Nature, and Cherishers of Learning,<br /> -Greeting.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="nind"><i><span class="letra">W</span>HEREAS we are inform’d to our ineffable displeasure, grief, -sorrow and concern, that many fewds, jars, quarrels, animosities, -and heart-burns are ever and anon kindled, stirr’d up, and fomented -among the elder brothers of</i> Helicon, <i>as well as the multitude of -vain pretenders to bayes and immortality, in so much, that your -bickerings, clamours, noise and disturbances, are of intolerable -inconveniency to the good and just; and an unhappy suspension of -the serenity of their minds, as well as so many perturbations and -infractions of the peace of our uncle king</i> Pluto’<i>s dominions: -wherefore it is our royal will and pleasure, that these notorious -misdemeanours be forthwith remedied; promising upon our royal word, -that justice shall be duly executed to every body; and all men of -real merit and worth, lovers of wisdom and learning, of what nation -or sort soever, shall in their respective classes of virtue and -excellence, be registred in the glorious volumes of fame, to be -kept eternally in the</i> Delphic <i>library: In pursuance whereof, we -do hereby earnestly require and injoin our beloved sisters the -Muses, to hold a court of claims in the principality of</i> Delos, -<i>where we shall give our royal attendance so often as the fatigues -of our laborious course will permit us, to examine all capacities, -claims, titles, and pretensions whatever: and to avoid all lets, -troubles, hinderances, molestations, and interruptions that -possibly we can: we do farthermore hereby strictly prohibit and -forbid, upon pain of our highest displeasure, and a hundred years -interdiction from the laurel-grove, all sonneteers, songsters, -satyrists, panegyrists, madrigallers, and such like impediments of</i> -Parnassus, <i>to make any pretensions whatever to reputation and -immortality; till such time as the more laborious and industrious -investigators of nature are regulated and dispatch’d</i>.</p> - -<p class="c"> -Given at our High Court of <i>Helicon</i>, this 47th Century,<br /> -from our Conquest of <i>Python</i>.<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_156">{156}</a></span></p></div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang"> -<p>At present the versifyers are much humbled, for the laurel-grove is -their chiefest delight; ’tis their park, their playhouse, their -assembly. I find all the vices of the mind are common here, as in -your superiour regions: separating from the clay has only taken -from us the means of whoring and drinking, but the mind retains -still the wicked propensity. I considered not the pressing number -of your affairs, and that I hazard your ill-will by detaining you -so long from the publick: give me leave only to desire the favour -of you, when your servant goes through <i>Chancery-lane</i>, to put up a -cargo of the <i>spread-eagle</i> pudding for our very good friend -counsellor <i>Wallop</i>, for he is inconsolable: twenty of the best -cooks, nay, Mr. <i>Lamb</i> himself can’t make one to please him. Live -in health, I know you cannot learn.</p></div> - -<h2><i>Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Prior</span><i>’s Answer</i>.</h2> - -<p><i>Worthy Sir</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> WAS not wanting in my wishes to preserve that esteem you honoured -me with, or to give you fresher instances of it; but since your -stars summoned you on the other side of the black water, and I did -not know whither to address myself exactly to you, I was obliged to -suspend my writing till such time as I received your’s. I am -heartily glad the two crowns are agreed to permit a pacquet to go -between them; and as for our friend the counsellor, I never shall -be dilatory in serving him to the utmost of my abilities, and never -shall call to mind but with veneration and wonder, his most heroick -conduct and magnanimity in pudding-fighting. He sequester’d himself -from flesh and blood very opportunely, and with a prudence that -always accompanied him in the minutest of his actions; for sugars -and fruits are risen already, and, in all probability, will -continue to bear a good price, since <i>Portugal</i> has deserted us; so -I dare not pretend to be positive that the cargo I send will be as -delicious as formerly, tho’ its novelty may make amends for some -time, for small cheats in that profession. Honest <i>John</i> the -faithful companion of your wanton hours, was very much rejoiced to -hear from you, and would needs take a leap after you, maugre<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_157">{157}</a></span> all I -could say to him: with this trusty servant I have sent you what you -desired, and that I might be certain of its not miscarrying any -where upon the road, I tuck’d friend <i>John</i> up with it, and so -dispatch’d him presently. I was in hopes to have heard from more of -our merry companions, or of them at least: how does <i>Rochester</i> -behave himself with his old gang? is Sir <i>George</i> as facetious as -ever? is my lady still that formal creature as when in our -hemisphere? has she the benefit of cards and a tea-table? how did -my lord <i>Jefferies</i> receive his son? and with what constancy did -her grace hear Sir <i>John Germain</i> was married? I was in hopes you -might have met with some of these in your peregrination, not that I -suppose you can see those vast dominions of <i>Pluto</i>’s but in a -proportionable time to the variety of subjects, as well as the -mightiness of their extent.</p> - -<p>We have nothing new here, because we are under the sun. Wise men -keep company with one another; fools write and fools read; the -booksellers have the advantage, provided they don’t trust; some -pragmatical fellows set up for politicians; others think they have -merit because they have money. Cheats prosper, drunkenness is a -little rebuked in the pulpit, but as rife as ever in all other -places; people marry that don’t love one the other, and your old -mistress <i>Melisinda</i> goes to church constantly, prays devoutly, -sings psalms gravely, hears sermons attentively, receives the -sacrament monthly, lies with her footman nightly, and rails against -lewdness and hypocrisy from morning till night.</p> - -<p>The rest of particulars I leave for honest <i>John</i> to recount to -you; my other affairs oblige me to take my leave of you; expecting -some particulars about what I mentioned myself.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Yours</i>, &c.<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Pomigny</span> <i>of</i> Auvergne, <i>to Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Abel</span> <i>of</i> London, <i>Singing-Master</i>.</p> - -<p><i>SIR</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HE sons and daughters of harmony that crowd in daily upon these coasts -surprise us equally with your capacities and misfortunes. We are -generally of the opi<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_158">{158}</a></span>nion here, that the muses are as well receiv’d in -<i>England</i>, as in any other climate whatever. Men are charm’d there at so -small an expence of wit or performance, that, one of your endowments -might well have hop’d to outrival my felicity, and be something more -exalted than to the embraces of a queen. My parentage was as little -remarkable in <i>France</i>, as yours in <i>England</i>; and though I had better -luck, durst not pretend I had a better voice. From a singing-boy, I -push’d my fortune so as to succeed my own sovereign. From the choir I -rose to the chamber; from the chamber I was preferr’d to the closet; and -from thence was advanc’d to be vice-roy over all the territories of -love: I was lord high-chamberlain to <i>Cupid</i>, and comptroller of the -houshold to <i>Venus</i>. Every delectation superseded my very wishes; nor -cou’d I have ask’d for the thousandth part of the blandishments I -enjoy’d. I was as absolute in my love as the grand seignior: ’twas for -my dear sake the fond princess rais’d her maids of honour’s beds, that -she might not hurt her back (as she had frequently done) in creeping -under to fetch me out. ’Twas for my dear sake, that if they but nam’d my -name when absent, in the raptures of her impatience, she run against the -doors, threw down the screens; hurt her face against the mantle-trees -and cabinets. She broke at times as much in looking-glasses, stands, and -china, in the eager transports of her joy to meet me coming into the -room, as by computation, wou’d have fitted out a fleet of fifty sail of -capital ships. These were princely rewards for a man’s poor endeavours -to please: who would not bring up their children in a choir? or who -would not learn to sing? you have met, I must confess, Sir, with but -small encouragement in the main, and made but a slender fortune in -comparison of what might have been reasonably expected from your -talents: the most civiliz’d quarter of the world has been your audience, -and admirer; and you have left every where a name, that cannot die but -with musick, and that will survive even nature; for in the numerous -cracklings of the last conflagration, there will be, as it were, a noble -symphony, that she may cease to be in proportion, and what is her -apothesis, will draw the curtain to a new creation. But that enlargement -of our knowledge, which is the necessity of our spiritualization, shows -me there is a malevolency<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_159">{159}</a></span> in the influences of your stars, that will -ever dash your rising hopes, and oppose your fortune. You cannot but -have heard how <i>Alexander the Great</i> very generously distributed all the -spoils to his soldiers, and contented himself with glory for his -dividend. Thus your consolation must be, whenever the fickle goddess -frowns upon you; that noble resolution of being above contempt, shows a -magnanimity of mind equal to the greatest philosopher. But virtue is -very often unfortunate, nay, sometimes oppress’d.</p> - -<p>Here are some devilish, ignorant, censorious, lying people, that will -maintain, you were so impertinent as to give a gentleman, the trouble of -cudgelling you, and there are many here whose wicked tempers are -improv’d by the conversation of the place, as rogues by being in -<i>Newgate</i>, and those give credit to the aspersions; but the tribe of -<i>Helicon</i> endeavour your justification, for he that cou’d charm the king -of <i>Poland</i>’s bears with the warbling accents of his mellifluous tongue, -might with the same harmony have mov’d the sturdy oak, and that is as -heavy as a hundred canes. ’Twas the glory of <i>Arion</i>, that the stones -danced after his lyre; and as long as there are poets it will be said, -that <i>Orpheus</i> drew the tigers and the trees, to listen to his trembling -lays. May you not justly expect a place in the volumes of immortality, -since it may be all said literally true of you, that was but a fable of -these darlings of our forefathers? no matter if some people put an ill -construction on it, the best actions of our lives are subject to be -traduc’d.—— Here was a dear joy of quality suffer’d the discipline of -the place for stealing the diamond ring from you, that the king of -<i>France</i> gave you at <i>Fountainbleau</i>: to mitigate the blackness of the -fact, he alledg’d the necessitousness of his condition, and that it was -pity so many gallant men should want for their loyalty, while a -jackanapes cou’d get an estate for a song. At this, <i>Rhadamanthus</i> -order’d him a hundred stripes more for his pride in affecting a -character his own confession had so far derogated from. There are some -considerable stars that rise in <i>Bavaria</i>, whose influences are -inauspicious to you; for, among friends, ’twas no better than robbing -him to run away with his money, and especially before you had done any -thing for it. However, this may be your consolation, that the duke can’t -say you cheated him to some<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_160">{160}</a></span> tune. Here is a consort of musick composing -against the king of <i>France</i> makes his entrance: out of gratitude to his -generosity, you ought to make one of ’em; I can get you a lodging near -<i>Cerberus</i>’s apartment; ’twill be convenient for you to confer notes -together for he is much the deepest base of any here.</p> - -<p>If your leisure will permit, I should be glad of some news from the -favourites of <i>Parnassus</i>: I am continually at the chocolate house in -the <i>Sulphurstreet</i>. I shall look upon the obligation in <i>Ala-mi-re</i> in -<i>Alt</i>.</p> - -<h2><a id="Mr_Abels_Answer"></a><i>Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Abel’</span><i>s Answer</i>.</h2> - -<p><i>SIR</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span>F the advice be seasonable, ’tis no great matter from whence it comes; -though ’tis not what one wou’d readily expect from a person of your -climate; but that too renders the obligation so much the more binding. I -was not so well acquainted with the ancient intrigues of the <i>French</i> -court as to call your name to remembrance, but by the delicious -expression of your wanton delights, I presum’d you might have been a -<i>Mahometan</i> eunuch, because you seem’d to describe their paradice in -part; what cou’d I tell whether more of that felicity came to your share -or not? I met <i>Aben-Ezra</i> the <i>Jew</i>, but he knew nothing of you; at last -a <i>French</i> refugee set me right. When I consider your private history I -am amaz’d at your raptures, and that you could be so void of common -reason, more especially after you had been so long spiritualiz’d, which -you tell me, enlarges the understanding, as to set a value upon your -self for raking a kennel, only because it belonged to court. To have -charm’d a person of an exalted extraction, as I did, and to bring her to -be the loving wife of my bosom, was vanity without infamy. But your -captive queen was a queen of sluts, equally the infamy of her own sex, -as you were the contempt of ours. ’Twas very pathetically said of her by -her brother, when he gave her in marriage to the king of <i>Navarre, that -he did not give his</i> Peggy <i>in marriage to the king of</i> Navarre <i>alone, -but to all the</i> Hugonots <i>of his kingdom</i>, and if he had said, all the -<i>Roman Catholicks</i> too, it had hardly been<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_161">{161}</a></span> an hyperbole. For ever since -she was nine years old, she never deny’d any thing that was a man; no, -not so much as her own brother. She had so great an inclination to be -obliging, that she would not refuse even old age, and did not condemn -even the blackest scullion-boy of her kitchin: she was the refuse of a -hundred thousand several men’s embraces before she took up with you. So -that I see no such mighty ground for your vanity and ostentation: and if -there were not other more beneficial expectations from the choir, I -should advise but very few to follow it: not but that a fair friend in -the <i>Palace-yard</i>, a kind friend in <i>Charles-street</i>, or a pretty -intimate acquaintance near the <i>Bowling-Alley</i>, may help to pass away -some leisure hours when the <i>Abbey</i> is lock’d up; however that is not -sufficient to tempt a man to <i>C-fa-ut</i> it all ones life-time.</p> - -<p>I ever found an inbred aversion to <i>Ireland</i>, and your news gives me -more convincing reasons why I should not affect ’em: for to be stripp’d -by some, and stripp’d by others, would of itself give a man an -unfavourable Impression of such people. As for the freedom you take in -diverting yourself at my expence, I easily pass it by: but your -censoriousness scandalizes me, when so many very deserving persons of -all ranks, sexes and qualities, as are my good friends and benefactors, -are made the subject of your raillery. I do not want to be spiritualis’d -to see thro’ your banter, when you make me even superior to <i>Orpheus</i> -and <i>Arion</i>; I smell what you wou’d be at, by being follow’d by tigers, -blocks and stones: but it is lucky enough for you, that you are out of -their reach: as for the article of <i>Bavaria</i>, I can say but little to it -more than I thought the time was come, when the <i>Israelites</i> should -spoil the <i>Egyptians</i>. You have such continual couriers from these -parts, that you cannot be long ignorant of the minutest springs by which -all affairs are kept in motion. To me they seem everywhere to be at much -the same rate, like a horse in a mill, ’tis no matter who drives him. I -thank you for your kind offer, in providing me lodgings; but I have so -many of my friends gone there of late, that I shall unwillingly be from -them: however, I shall always study to improve your good opinion, and -continue theirs. If any accident calls me to your parts about that time, -I shall gladly assist at the king of <i>France</i>’s entry; for doubt<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_162">{162}</a></span>less it -will be done with a most noble solemnity, and every way answerable to -the character of such a monarch. But as time is more precious here than -in your country, I must beg you to excuse me, for I am just sent for to -the tavern. <i>Adieu.</i></p> - -<h2><a id="Seignior_Nichola_to_Mr_Buckly_at_the_Swan_Coffee-House_near"></a><i>Seignior</i> <span class="smcap">Nichola</span> <i>to Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Buckly</span>, <i>at the</i> Swan <i>Coffee-House near</i> -Bloomsbury.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span>T is impossible to suffer it any longer! what, my diviner airs made the -sordid entertainment of sordid footmen, scoundrel fellows, and I know -not what for ragamuffins! must those seraphic lays, that have so often -been the delight of muses, the joy of princes, the rapture of the fair -sex, the treasures of the judicious, must these be thrumm’d over to -blaspheming rascals, smoaking sots, noisy boobies, and such nefarious -mechanicks! oh, prophane!—-- they shall have my sonatas, that they -shall with a horse-pox to them. Can’t their <i>Darby</i> go down but with a -tune, nor their tobacco smoak, without the harmony of a <i>Cremona</i> -fiddle? if they can’t be merry without musick, provide them a good key, -and a pair of wrought tongs. One of their own jigs is diverting enough -for their heavy capacities; whence comes it that the sons of art, and -the brothers of rosin and cat-gut, can demean themselves so poorly to -play before them? since when have the daughters of <i>Helicon</i> frequented -ale-houses? must the sacred streams of our <i>Aganiope</i>, pay homage to the -<i>Darwent</i>, and wash tankards and glasses? sure you think <i>Pegasus</i> a -jade, and are looking out for a chap for him: who can come up to his -price there? his beauties are too sublime for the groom, and his master -had rather have a strong horse for his coach: none of them alas can tilt -the fiery courser. What a strange medley do you make! wit, musick, -noise, nonsense, smoak, spawl, <i>Darby</i>-ale, and brandy: nay your rage -and indiscretion goes farther yet; folly and madness seem to be -contagious, and you jar among yourselves? the brothers of symphony -quarrel, and turn the banquetting-house of the <i>Thessalian</i> ladies into -a bear-garden, those active joints that so nicely touch’d my notes, are -now barbarously levell’d at each other’s eyes; the pow<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_163">{163}</a></span>erful off-spring -of my harmonious conceptions, is miserably torn to pieces betwixt them; -and what would have charm’d all mankind, is dishonourably employ’d to -the lighting of pipes and cleaning of tables. If you will set up for -celebrating the orgies of the juicy god, let your instruments be all -chosen accordingly, your airs correspondent to the audience; but make me -no more the contempt and derision of your debauch’d meetings: for the -commendation of fools is more wounding than the reprimands of the -ingenious. At best, it is prostituting me to bring them into my company. -If you put not some sudden order to these ignominious proceedings, I -will dispatch an imp to sowre your ale, consume your cordials, spill -your tobacco, break your glasses, and cut all your equipage of harmony -into ten thousand millions of bits; nay I will prosecute my revenge so -far, that even in the play-house your hand shall shake, your ear shall -judge wrong, your strings crack, and every disappointment that may -render you ridiculous, shall attend you in all publick meetings -where-ever you pretend to play. So be wise and be warn’d: play to lovers -and judges of musick, draw drink to sots and neighbours.</p> - -<h2><a id="Ignatius_Loyola_to_the_Archbishop_of_Toledo"></a><span class="smcap">Ignatius Loyola</span> <i>to the Archbishop of</i> Toledo.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">Y</span>OUR eminency’s remissness in the late affairs of the <i>Spanish</i> -territories, has made my scorpion’s stink deeper than heretofore, and -superadded a new blackness to the horrors of my rage and despair. Those -painful machinations, who took their birth from hell itself, and by my -industry and application had so glorious a prospect of bridling all -mankind, wherever the <i>Romish</i> doctrine triumph’d at least, are now by -that long continued series of an unhappy supineness in your -predecessors, or the powerful influences of <i>French</i> gold, reduc’d to -almost nothing. The thunderbolts of the inquisition rattled more -dreadfully than those of the <i>Vatican</i>; and after emperors had subjected -themselves to the successors of St. <i>Peter</i>, we found out means to -subject him to our censures, and by this made our selves superior to -supreme. The mildness of your executions, and the rarity of ’em have -substracted wonder<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_164">{164}</a></span>fully from their reputation, and from my designs. -Your excellency can’t say but I lay down very sufficient groundworks for -the rendering my orders as lasting as religion, if not as lasting as -time. More than <i>Europe</i> has felt the efficacy of my instructions; and -where-ever my disciples have been sent they have brought us home souls -and bodies, credit and estates.</p> - -<p>What society can vie with us for extent of temporal concerns? what -provinces are not in a great measure ours? we have the guardianship of -the consciences of most of the considerable crown’d heads, and few -affairs of importance are transacted any where but with our privity. I -have not met with any one person in these kingdoms that has been of note -and quality, that came here with a pass-port from the holy inquisition; -now and then a rascally <i>Jew</i> or so, comes here blaspheming your power -and prudence; and is so angry that he will not show it at hell-gates; as -if he apprehended a double damnation from our character.</p> - -<p>Your excellency can’t but be sensible how great sufferers we have been -by the substracting of the <i>Gallican</i> church from the lash of our -authority; and it was no small amputation we suffered in the <i>Spanish -Netherlands</i>, by the improvident proceeding of that rash commander the -duke of <i>Alva</i>: If now you submit thus quietly to the administration of -<i>France</i>, I cannot but apprehend an universal extention of that powerful -and profitable institution. Next to my own society, I look upon it to be -the basis of the <i>Romish</i> monarchy, and undoubtedly of your own, and of -the <i>Austrian</i> greatness. How are your liberties trampled upon by a -child, and all your dons led captives to <i>Versailles</i>? Where is the -antient valour and obstinacy of the <i>Moorish</i> blood? Where are the -poisons and the poniards so frequent in <i>Madrid</i>? Is <i>Spain</i> brought so -low that she has not resolution enough for one feeble effort, to save -herself from infamy and ruin? Your arms were always unsuccessful against -the <i>English</i> nation; the greatness of your misery points out still the -memorable, the very deplorable overthrow in eighty eight: There is a -queen again upon that crown, willing and able to protect you as well as -others, and it may be in rubricks of fate, that as one queen brought -down the pride of the haughty <i>Spaniards</i>, so the other shall humble -<i>France</i> as much, even<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_165">{165}</a></span> when it is in its most tow’ring glory. But -whatever be the destiny of <i>France</i>, you ought to look after yourselves, -and not by an untimely accession of your powers to that of so formidable -a monarch, intangle yourselves in an inextricable ruin, by so much the -more unpardonable as you might easily have prevented it. Shew the world -then that a <i>French</i> lion can’t thrive in a <i>Spanish</i> soil, and dart -forth the lightning of the inquisition against all that adhere to the -<i>Gallic</i> interest and connive at the ruin of the <i>Spanish</i> grandeur. -Exert yourself and swim hither in a sea of blood, and may your cruelties -succeed.</p> - -<h2><a id="Alderman_Floyer_to_Sir_Humphery_Edwin"></a><i>Alderman</i> <span class="smcap">Floyer</span> <i>to Sir</i> <span class="smcap">Humphery Edwin</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> Ever had an infinite value for your friendship, and as every letter is -a fresh mark of it, I have in every one new matter of satisfaction; yet -I could not read your last without equal surprize and concern; and if I -did not positively believe your integrity, as I am acquainted with your -capacity, I should be at a loss what construction to put upon it: for -all <i>Europe</i> has been deaf for I know not how many years, with more and -more accounts how your kings grew upon their people, and we ever look’d -upon the <i>English</i> as very jealous of their privileges. I need not tell -you how odious your two last kings were to us of these parts; nay, and -all <i>Germany</i> too, papist and protestant; for instead of holding the -balance between <i>France</i>, <i>Spain</i> and the <i>Empire</i>, as the situation of -your country, and its mighty power by sea made ’em capable of doing, and -the character of guarantees for the peace of <i>Nimeguen</i>, and the truce -for twenty years oblig’d ’em to it; their siding with <i>France</i>, -notwithstanding all the endeavours of foreign ministers to the contrary, -and their own real interest too, may be justly said to have laid the -foundation of all those calamities that the arms and intrigues of -<i>France</i>, have since that time brought upon <i>Europe</i>. But tho’ we had so -many reasons to be dissatisfied with the proceedings of king <i>Charles</i> -II. and king <i>James</i> too, yet we never diminish’d any thing of our good -will we bore the <i>English</i> nation; because we cou’d not but believe they -were as<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_166">{166}</a></span> far from approving those transactions as we were, and repin’d -as much as we did at the growing grandeur of the <i>French</i> monarch. The -clandestine measures both those kings took to enslave their subjects to -the power of <i>France</i>, and the <i>Romish</i> religion, was as good a -demonstration of a natural enmity between those two sorts of people. His -present majesty’s descent was concerted with most of the princes of the -empire after it was so earnestly propos’d to him, and almost press’d -upon him by the very best of your nation. The friendship between the two -crowns was no longer a secret, tho’ the <i>English</i> envoy at the <i>Hague</i> -deny’d it positively when I was there: This was more than an umbrage to -the discerning part of your kingdom, and what the very commonality could -not think on without terrible apprehensions: and all of us here in like -manner look’d upon this enterprize as a thing on which depended the -safety or ruin of the whole protestant affairs of <i>Europe</i>.</p> - -<p>I cannot comprehend what unlucky planet rules over you! that any one -person should be dissatisfy’d, is prodigious to me. You are freed from -all those oppressions, whose probability alone having made no small part -of your misery. You were very uneasy under the administration of king -<i>James</i>, and now you are deliver’d, you murmur! you know his royal -highness was so unwilling to embark himself in this affair, tho’ his -interest and his honour were very much concern’d at it, that he did not -yield but to the iterated solicitations of your countrymen, join’d with -full assurance that they would stand by him with their lives and -fortunes. You must pardon the freedom of my expression, if I assure you, -that this ungrateful false step lessens my value for the <i>English</i> -nation: for after having made such terrible complaints of their miseries -and injuries, and fill’d <i>Europe</i> with their tears and lamentations, -implor’d a neighbouring prince to come to their rescue, at a season of -the year that wou’d have quell’d the greatest courage that ever was, if -it had not been supported with charity; and add to this, the unavoidable -necessity of so vast an expence, as would have sunk some princes -fortunes, now they are happily settled in their affairs at home, have -glorious armies abroad, and that king at their head, who has so justly -merited that title of <i>Defender of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_167">{167}</a></span> the Faith</i>, whose prudence and -vigilancy has corroborated their native force with so many powerful -allies; that these people should be so little sensible of their own -felicity, as to murmur and be discontented, is to me a paradox, but I am -sure unpardonable. The knowledge I have of the <i>English</i> genius, makes -me believe there are but a few malecontents, and tho’ they call -themselves protestants, ’tis only to bring an odium upon those that -really are, by such perverse measures. I hope ’tis only your fears for -your country, which proceed from your love of it, that multiplies these -disagreeable objects. You have a protestant prince, on a protestant -throne, liberty of conscience, and even the <i>Roman Catholicks</i>, that -were always plotting against the government, are permitted so much -freedom under it, that they would be mad if they were out of it.</p> - -<p>Look back to the desolations in <i>France</i>, and to the storm you are -deliver’d from, and see if you can ever thank God enough for your -deliverance.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang"><i>Sir</i> <span class="smcap">John Norris</span> <i>Commander in Chief of Her Majesty Queen</i> -<span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>’<i>s Land-Forces against the</i> Spaniard, <i>to Sir</i> <span class="smcap">Henry -Bellasis</span> <i>and Sir</i> <span class="smcap">Charles Hara</span>.</p></div> - -<p><i>Gentlemen</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">W</span>E had no sooner intelligence of your designs, but we gave the -<i>Spaniards</i> over for lost: the path has been so gallantly beaten to your -hands, and your enemies hardly recruited their former losses in our -glorious times, if they cou’d have forgot from whose hands they -sustain’d ’em. If I may remind you without vanity, as I do it without a -lie, I took the lower town of the <i>Groyn</i>, I plunder’d all the villages -round about it, and by the gallantry of the <i>English</i> cut the -<i>Spaniards</i> to pieces for three miles together. But these were profess’d -enemies that had attempted upon our state, and by their formidable -preparations, threatned no less than our entire ruin. However, in all -the licentiousness of a conquering sword, we ravish’d no nuns; and it -had been justifiable if we had done<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_168">{168}</a></span> it. We took the city of <i>St. -Joseph</i>, and tho’ there was not found one single piece of coin’d money -in it (which is a very exasperating disappointment to soldiers you know) -yet we forc’d no nunneries. Had you two, gentlemen, been there, I -presume you wou’d have eaten the children alive for mere madness and -vexation, after you had gratify’d your more unpardonable brutish lusts -upon the monasteries. Distressed damsels were heretofore the general -cause for which the heroes drew their swords: as their sex made them the -objects of our desires, so when their weakness was forc’d upon, they -became doubly the subjects of our quarrels, and by so just a claim, that -nothing but the very reproach of mankind refus’d it ’em. Your case, as I -take it (gentlemen) is far different from that, where positive orders -give licence; nay, an insurrection itself, and to lay all waste before -you; to ransack the churches, and ravish the women, to burn the houses, -and brain the sucking children; these are political rigors, that by a -present shedding of blood, saves the lives of many thousands afterwards: -this putting all to the sword, intimidates small towns for making feeble -efforts for an impossible defence; which by losing some time, and some -few men’s lives only, enrages the conquerer at last, to use the same -severity with them too, to punish their obstinacy. These are bloody -maxims of war, but necessary sometimes, therefore lawful. But you -(gentlemen) had not the least shadow of pretence for your lust or your -avarice: if these are the insolent effects of your friendship, I fear no -body will admit of your alliances, much less court them. Friendship -betray’d, is the blackest crime that is, and what so far degrades a -gentleman from the character of honour, that miracles of bravery in -sieges afterwards wou’d never wear out the blot: but as if you had -resolved to make yourselves odious, by making the fact more infamous, -they must be nuns too, forsooth, that must be constrained to your -libidinous authority. Your sacrilegious covetousness might have met with -a shadow of excuse, if your intemperance had proceeded no farther: and -indeed they must have a great deal of wit as well as goodness, that can -invent any thing like a reason to mitigate the abomination of it. You, -old commanders, you, old covetous lechers, the bane of an army, the -reproach of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_169">{169}</a></span> the best general, and of the most glorious princess. What -laurels have your lust and rapines torn from <i>O</i>——’s brows? What -honours from your <i>English</i> arms? And what vast advantages from your own -sovereign? Had not your impious carriage made implacable enemies of -those that were not quite resolved to continue long so at all, this -summer had rais’d your princess to that pinnacle of renown and grandeur, -that none ever surpass’d, and but few ever came up to besides our -illustrious queen, of whom no man can say too much; therefore of you, -gentlemen, none can say too ill. A design so deeply laid, so cautiously -manag’d, so long conceal’d, so wisely concerted, cou’d not possibly miss -of a happy event, if your impious indignities had not constrained heaven -to blast the undertaking, to shew it was just; thus the army perished -for <i>David</i>’s having numbred the people: you went to free ’em from a -foreign dominion, to settle the right of government in the right person, -to prevent innovations, and relieve the oppress’d; in a word, to do -justice to every subject. Oh, the plausible pretext! the noble reasons -for so chargeable an expedition! yet no sooner has the justice of the -cause in general crown’d your attempts with success, but your particular -outrages pull down vengeance, and raise yourselves enemies even out of -the dust; the consciousness of your wickedness blunts the edge of your -swords, and adds new life and vigour to those whom your courage and -generosity had almost vanquish’d before. Sir <i>Walter Rawleigh</i>, my -worthy companion of arms, refused two millions of ducats, and burnt the -merchants ships at <i>Port Royal</i>, because that was his errand, and he was -as just as he was brave. Had you two but commanded there (gentlemen) the -<i>Spanish</i> merchants had not need have made so large an offer: half the -money and ten young nuns a-piece, and you had betray’d your country. -However, we question not but in a little time, or by the next packet at -least, to hear that justice is executed upon you both to absolve the -nation, and atone for so abominable and unpardonable, so nefarious and -ungentlemen-like an action. You will find a place on the other side of -our river, that will cool your courage, by way of antiperistasis, with -wond’rous heat.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_170">{170}</a></span></p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang"><i>Don</i> <span class="smcap">Alphonso Perez</span> <i>de</i> <span class="smcap">Gusman</span>, <i>Duke of</i> Medina Sidonia, -<i>Admiral of the invincible</i> Armada, <i>to Monsieur</i> <span class="smcap">Chateau-renault</span>, -<i>at</i> Rodondello.</p></div> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">W</span>HY this mighty concern for what cannot be avoided? Why this chagrin? -Why this <i>mal au cœur</i>? You might have fancied yourself invincible, you -might have got a sanctified pass from his holiness, it would still have -had the same catastrophe. The <i>English</i> are hereticks, man, they value -none of these evangelical charms of a rush; their bullets have no -consideration in the world for a relique, nor their small-shot for a -chaplet. Besides, they are so well acquainted with our seas, their own -channel is hardly more familiar to them. This is but the old grudge of -88, when queen <i>Elizabeth</i> thump’d us so about: considering all things, -I think you are come off very well. What signifies a few paultry hulks? -The plate we are sure you had prudently carried over the mountains in -1500 carts at least, an undertaking as little dream’d of, and as much -surprizing, as prince <i>Eugene</i>’s passing the <i>Alps</i>; but with this -plaguy unlucky disadvantage, that it may not be quite so true. Now and -then in my more reserved speculations, I stumbled upon that same -<i>Drake</i>, that burn’d about 100 of our ships at <i>Cadiz</i>; upon my honour I -can’t forgive him, and yet can’t blame him neither. But those two -galeons that were so richly laden, stick in my stomach most -confoundedly. No wonder our affairs prosper no better, for those same -hereticks have taken away several of our saints; that same <i>Drake</i> I -mentioned just now, he run away with <i>St. Philip</i>. Besides this, these -<i>English</i> water-dogs swam after us into <i>Cadiz</i>, and went to <i>Pointal</i>, -and there firk’d us so about the pig-market, that we were even glad to -save our bacon, and fire some of our ships, and run the others on -ground; there too, after burning the admiral, these unsanctifyed ranters -stole away, not sneakingly, but with an open hand, and main force, two -most glorious saints more, St. <i>Matthew</i> and St. <i>Andrew</i>. There was -another too of those <i>English</i> bully-rocks, Sir <i>Walter Rawleigh</i>, with -a pox to<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_171">{171}</a></span> him, he serv’d us a slippery trick indeed, for he took away -the mother of God, and God knows she was worth one hundred and fifty -thousand pounds sterling, not reckoning the other smaller craft that -went with him only to bear her company. There is something in our -destinies that gives them an ascendant over us; and a brave man scorns -to buckle to fortune. You may live to be beaten again as I was, and poor -<i>Alphonso de Leva</i>, nay, honest <i>Recalde</i>, he was cursedly maul’d too -with his rear squadron; and to add to my misfortunes, I was a little -while after drubb’d again by them, I thought they never would have done -dancing round me for my part: but what consummated my disgrace, and -still leaves the deepest impression on my spirits, is the burning my -fleet at <i>Calais</i>; there I must own it sincerely to you, I was somewhat -astonished: I thought <i>Vesuvius</i> had been floating upon the water, or -mount <i>Ætna</i> had out of kindness come to light me thro’ the north -passage home: but this was a hellish invention of those <i>Englishmen</i> to -set my ships on fire, and destroy us all.</p> - -<p>Now this similitude of our destinies having endeared you to me, I -thought my comparing our notes together might mitigate part of your -affliction. Nay, thus far we are again alike in the frowns of insulting -fortune, that they will make new medals with the old inscription, <i>dux -fœmina facti</i>. Indeed you must give me leave, Sir, to be a little free -with you, that is, to tell you for ought I know, providence may have -ordered it so, to shew that the wisdom of man is really but a chimera, -and as <i>Spain</i>, when in the highest exaltation of its glory, with a vast -fleet that was three years equipping, and consisted of no less than 130 -sail of ships, enough to have forc’d her way thro’ the universe; yet -with all this preparation, a single woman, embroil’d in her state at -home, not only made head against us, but even quite destroy’d us; -insomuch, that the kingdom of <i>Spain</i> was never fully able to recover -the vast expence of this fleet, and the continued losses that attended -its being beaten: in like manner, Sir, what know we but that the kingdom -of <i>France</i>, being now even at the summit of glory, and by the accession -of the <i>Spanish</i> interest, so entirely at his own devotion, may not see -all his laurels torn from his brows by a queen, and to the dishonour of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_172">{172}</a></span> -the <i>Salic</i> law, make the greatest of all its monarchs truckle to a -woman, whom they thought incapable of reigning. I don’t say this will be -certainly so, but examining all occurrences hitherto, it looks but -scurvily upon the <i>Spanish</i> and <i>French</i> side. For <i>France</i> was never so -many times, and so considerably defeated since he sat upon the throne, -and that too both by sea and land. Indeed the <i>English</i> in these parts -grow very pragmatical upon it, and at every turn call for <i>a son of a -whore of a</i> Spaniard <i>to make snuff of</i>. Cardinal <i>Granvil</i>, that was -the ablest head-piece of his time, avers it so positively, that I dare -not aim at a contradiction; and his opinion is, That the <i>English</i>, who -are naturally good when they are yielded to, and only obstinate and -angry when they are oppos’d, will ever be happily governed by a queen; -and he assigns this for a reason, that the monarchy of <i>England</i> having -a great alloy of a republick, they are more jealous of their warlike -princes than of their weak ones, and least they should happen to give a -daring prince an unhappy opportunity of treading upon their necks, if -they should stoop any thing low, they will always in parliament keep him -at some distance; but as a woman cannot pretend to guide the reins of -empire by a strong hand, they must do it by a wise head; therefore not -trusting so much to her own judgment, as hot-headed man does, she does -nothing without the advice of her council; and that is a small -parliament, as a parliament is a grand national council, and this method -of government suits best with the <i>English</i> temper: from whence I -conclude, that <i>England</i> never was in so fair a prospect of doing -herself justice, and asserting her rights, since that miracle of a woman -queen <i>Elizabeth</i>, as it is at this juncture. For so glorious and -triumphant beginnings open all her subjects hearts, and their coffers -with them, which cannot tend but to our ruin and shame. Make haste -hither, and get out of the confusion that you cannot long defer.</p> - -<h2><a id="Marcellinus_to_Mons_Boileau"></a><span class="smcap">Marcellinus</span> <i>to Mons.</i> <span class="smcap">Boileau</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><i><span class="letra">N</span>AY, this is beyond the possibility of patience! and tho’ there is much -due to the character of princes, yet there is more to ourselves and -truth; and I cannot without<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_173">{173}</a></span> the highest injustice and ingratitude -possible, but remind you of some of the actions of your idol monarch, -which with so much reason dispute with each other, which was the most -enormous and tyrannical. I only endeavour’d to make</i> Julian <i>the -apostate, pass upon posterity for a hero, and you call me an insolent -brazen-fac’d rascally flatterer. If I exceeded the exactness of an -historian, it was because in that treatise I set up for a courtier, and -sincerity in such people is of the most dangerous consequence -imaginable. If the emperor</i> Julian <i>had been the first monster in -nature, that met with a willing pen to set his actions in a less -inglorious light than others expected, and naked truth required; yet I -am sure he is not the greatest. Your master has trac’d all the footsteps -of his cruelty and policy; for if he manag’d matters so swimmingly -between the catholicks and</i> Arrians, <i>that he secur’d himself by their -divisions</i>, Loüis <i>has all along done the same: if he countenanced the</i> -Jews, Loüis <i>supported the</i> Turks, <i>if he destroyed the christians</i>, -Loüis <i>had done it in a much more barbarous and perfidious manner. If he -threw down the images of</i> Christ <i>at</i> Cæsarea Philippi, Loüis <i>has acted -the same in the front of the jesuits</i><a id="FNanchor_55_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a> Church: <i>now since you have -dar’d to consecrate the reputation of your king, why so many bitter -invectives against me a petty</i> Pagan, <i>for speaking in favour of my -master? you modern wits, that value your selves so much upon the having -refin’d our dross, have sunk as scandalously low in matters of flattery -as any of us. We are continually pestered here with disputes; and every -court rings with the different claims. The</i> popes <i>send</i> legates <i>hither -for their saints</i>, Pluto <i>won’t let one of them go, because they are -damned. Others will have it that their time is fulfilled in Purgatory, -therefore would be discharged: but the Devil knows better things, -Father</i> Garnet <i>too, that execrable engine of the</i> Powder-Plot <i>storms -and raves, but the horned gentlemen with cloven feet laugh at him, and -his canonization. Where was there ever so much innocent christian blood -shed as on</i> Bartholo<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_174">{174}</a></span>mew<i>’s day at</i> Paris? <i>and yet even that -unparalleled murder has been justified a thousand times by your church; -as if the accurateness of a man’s pen could make that pass for a virtue -which will be an everlasting and detestable blot</i>. Pelisson <i>is a man of -prodigious parts</i>, Boileau <i>the smoothest pen and noblest genius of his -time, because their prince is alive, and equally generous to reward -their flattery, as greedy to have it: but poor I, because I have been -dead one thousand four hundred years, and better, I am an idle rascally -fellow. But even at this distance I am no stranger to the transactions -of</i> Versailles; <i>and since you have spit out so much of your blackest -venom against me and my hero, I shall take the freedom to call to mind -some of those very remarkable particulars which give so glorious a -lustre, as you call it, to your</i> viro immortali. <i>His life has been one -continued series of rapines and murders, perjuries and desolations. For -tho’ the first disorders in</i> Hungary, <i>were in some measure owing to the -injustices count</i> Teckeley <i>received from the ministers of the empire, -yet it is undeniably true, that</i> France <i>fomented the war, and -sollicited the</i> Turk <i>to espouse</i> Teckeley<i>’s quarrels, and promised to -assist him himself. The negotiations of the</i> French <i>ambassadors at the -Port, the vast sums of money remitted to</i> Teckeley, <i>and the endeavours -to disengage the king of</i> Poland <i>and the duke of</i> Bavaria <i>from the -interest of the empire; these things, Mons.</i> Boileau, <i>were not managed -with so much secrecy, but the more essential particulars are come to -many peoples knowledge. His other underhand dealings with several -princes and cities of</i> Germany, <i>shewed his formidable army in</i> Alsatia -<i>was not to succour the empire, but to seize on it. But the raising the -siege at</i> Vienna <i>broke all their measures at</i> Versailles, <i>and the king -of</i> France, <i>confounded at his disappointment, vented his rage upon his -own subjects, and that part of them too that set the crown upon his -head, when the most considerable of the</i> Roman Catholicks <i>abandon’d his -interest. The ravage he committed in the territories of the three -ecclesiastical electors, and in the</i> Palatinate <i>at the same time, -shewed him rather the scourge of mankind, than the eldest son of the -church</i>.</p> - -<p><i>’Tis true, there never was any prince but had his flatterers: but you</i> -French <i>have been guilty of the grossest to the present king of</i> France, -<i>that ever were recorded. My</i> Ju<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_175">{175}</a></span>lian <i>would have blush’d, or rather -trembled, at such blasphemous adulation</i>. Loüis <i>has been adored for his -mercy, and yet exceeded our</i> Nero <i>in barbarity and bloodshed. Fire and -sword were mild executioners of his cruelty; for his impetuous lust of -mischief has been so fruitful in inventing torments, that he has made -all those forms of death desirable to his subjects that were the -reproach of tyrants: his ingenious malice has contrived exquisite pain, -without destroying the persons that suffer it; and if he could compel -man to be immortal, he would vie miseries with hell itself. He scorns -all the humble paths of</i> Domitian<i>’s perfidiousness: such puny perjuries -are too mean for</i> Loüis le Grand: <i>And since he could not possibly make -them greater in their nature, he aggravated them by their number. The -peace of the</i> Pyreneans, <i>that of</i> Aix la Chapelle, <i>that of</i> Nimeguen, -<i>the truce for twenty years, the edict of</i> Nants, <i>the treaty at</i> -Reswick, <i>are sufficient arguments, that he only promised that he might -not perform; and vow’d to observe treaties that he might have the -lechery of breaking them afterwards with a more execrable guilt. Your -servile flattery stiles him the restorer and preserver of the peace of</i> -Christendom, <i>yet he arm’d the Crescent against the Cross, and carried -desolation through every corner of</i> Europe. <i>There is no prince but he -has invaded, no neighbour that he has not oppress’d, no law that he has -not violated, no religion that he has not trampled on, and shewed the -successors of St.</i> Peter, <i>that he had one sword sharper than both -theirs. His panegyrists have refined the impious wit of</i> Commodus<i>’s -sycophants; and lest books should not transmit their blasphemies low -enough to posterity, they have raised superb monuments of his arrogancy -and their own shame. What statues, what pictures of him at</i> Versailles, -Fountainbleau, Marly, <i>the</i> Louvre, <i>the</i> Invalides, Paris <i>gates, the</i> -Palace Royal, <i>&c. Where have I, Mons.</i> Boileau, <i>arm’d my</i> Julian <i>with -a <a id="FNanchor_56_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a> thunderbolt? have I any thing equal to your</i> viro immortali, <i>to -your</i> divo Ludivico? <i>Why then am I such an<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_176">{176}</a></span> infamous flatterer, such a -sneaking cringing rascal? I have nothing comparable to your fustian -bombast, nor to the hyperboles of</i> Pelisson, <i>nor the impertinent titles -of every</i> Frenchman <i>that sets pen to paper. I leave the world to judge, -if my hero has not a juster claim to all the eulogies I have given him, -ten thousand times preferable to</i> Loüis le Grand, <i>and yet you have said -ten thousand times more of him</i>.</p> - -<h3>POSTSCRIPT.</h3> - -<p><i>Just as I was dispatching this, a mail came in from</i> Spain, <i>that gave -us an account of the king of</i> France<i>’s having extended his dominions -over the plate-fleet; but whilst he was drinking</i> Chateau-Renault<i>’s -health, some two or three merry</i> English <i>boys run away with it all; -which has given</i> Loüis <i>and his grandson such a fit of the cholick, that -they are not expected to live long under such terrible agonies: -whereupon the Devil has order’d a thousand chaldron of fresh brimstone -to air their apartments against they should come</i>.</p> - -<h2><a id="Cornelius_Gallus_to_the_Lady_Dilliana_at_Bath"></a><span class="smcap">Cornelius Gallus</span> <i>to the Lady</i> <span class="smcap">Dilliana</span> <i>at</i> <span class="smcap">Bath</span>.</h2> - -<p><i>Charming</i> Dilliana,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> SHALL not blush to own I have been in love, since the wisest men that -ever were yet, have found their philosophy too weak to prevent the -tyranny of the blind boy. However, though they were sensible of the -powers of beauty, yet they were all ignorant of its cause. The painter -that first drew <i>Cupid</i> with a fillet over his eyes, did not mean that -he was blind; but that it was impossible to express their various -motions: sometimes eager desire adds new darts to their sparkling rages: -sometimes chilling fear in a minute overcasts their glittering beams; -joy drowns ’em in an unusual moisture, and irresolution gives ’em a -gentle trembling despair, sinks ’em into their orbits: jealousy -re-ascends the expiring flame: and one kind look from the person we -adore, sweetly sooths ’em up again; and it is easy to remark from their -sudden composedness the new calm and tranquillity of the mind. We may -say as much of love as of beauty, we all knew there is such<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_177">{177}</a></span> a thing, -but none of us can tell what it is; ’tis not youth alone that is expos’d -to the fatal tempest of this raging passion: age itself has yielded to -its attacks; and we have seen some look gaily in their love, tho’ they -were stepping into their graves. It laughs at the most ambitious man, -and makes a monarch turn vassal to his own subjects: it makes the miser -lavish of his ador’d dust and the hoarded ore profusely scatter’d at his -charmer’s feet: nay, the poets themselves did not feign <i>Cupid</i> so -extravagant, as many philosophers felt him: however, love is the great -springhead from whence all our felicities flow; and our condition would -be worse than that of the very beasts, if it were exempted from this -darling passion: yet it is as true too, that there is nothing upon the -earth so enormous and detestable, but love has been the occasion of it -at one time or other. That glorious emanation of divinity, the breath of -life which gave us the similitude of our Creator, is often stifled by -this raging passion, reason revolts, and joining partly with love, -proves our ruin, by justifying a thousand absurdities: and there is no -misery to which mankind may be said to be subject to, that is not caused -by love. There would be no sorrow, no fear, no desire, no despair, no -jealousy, no hatred, if there were no love. The soul becomes a restless -sea whose tumultuous waves are continually foaming, every sense is an -inlet to this violent passion: and there are but few objects which can -affect the soul, that do not give it birth: as heat produces some things -and destroys others, so love, not unlike it, is the origin of good and -evil. It may be call’d the school of honour and virtue; and yet not -improperly a theatre of horror and confusion too.</p> - -<p>’Tis the powerful and pleasing band of human society; without it there -would be no families, no kingdoms; and yet we read of an <i>Alexander</i> -that sacrific’d a whole city to a smile of a mistress. <i>Anthony</i> -disputed the world with <i>Cæsar</i>, yet chose rather to lose it than be -absent from <i>Cleopatra</i>’s arms. <i>David</i> forgot the august character of a -man after God’s own heart, and though so famous for prowess as well as -piety, basely murther’d the injur’d <i>Uriah</i>, the more freely to enjoy -the lovely adulteress. Charming <i>Sempronia</i>, the fire is pure in itself, -’tis the matter only that sends up all those offensive clouds of<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_178">{178}</a></span> smoak; -and if nature were not depraved, love would not cause these disorders: -’twou’d not mix poyson with wine to destroy a rival, and thro’ a sea of -blood and tears wade to its object. Love is the most formidable enemy a -wise man can have, and is the only passion against which he has no -defence. If anger surprise him, it lasts not long, and the same minute -concludes it as commenc’d it: If by a slower fire his choler boils, he -prevents its running over; but love steals so secretly, and so sweetly -withal; into every corner of our hearts, into every faculty of the soul, -that it is absolutely master before we can perceive it. When once we -discover it, we are quite undone: at the same time he triumphs over our -wisdom, and our reason too, and makes them both his vassals to maintain -his tyranny: what else could mean those numerous follies of the -adulterous gods descending in viler forms to commit their rapes?——</p> - -<p>The first wound that beauty makes is almost insensible, and though the -deadly poison spreads through every part; we hardly suspect we are in -danger. At first indeed we are only pleas’d with seeing the person or -talking of ’em, affecting an humble complaisance for all they say, or -do, the very thinking on them is charming; and the desires we have as -yet, are so far from impetuosity, that no philosopher could be so rigid -as to condemn us.</p> - -<p>Hitherto ’tis well, but ’tis hardly love, for that like a bee, forfeits -its name if it has no sting. But alas! the lurking fire quickly bursts -out, and that pleasing idea which represented itself so sweetly and so -respectfully to the soul one moment before, now insolently obtrudes upon -our most serious thoughts, and makes us impious even at the horns of the -altar; she perfidiously betrays us in our very sleep itself, sometimes -appearing haughty and scornfully, sometimes yielding and kind; and this -too when there is no reason for either. The infant-passion is now become -a cruel father of all other passions; cruel indeed, for he has no sooner -given birth to one, but he stifles it to introduce another; whose -short-liv’d fate is just the same, and destroy’d the next moment it is -born.</p> - -<p>Hope and despair, joy and sorrow, courage and fear, continually succeed -each other; anger, jealousy, and revenge, distract the mind; and all -these mingled, their fu<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_179">{179}</a></span>ry is like a storm blowing from every corner of -the heavens: then the lover, like the ocean, agitated by such boisterous -winds, he foams and roars, the swelling waves of his boiling appetite -dash each other to pieces, the foggy clouds of melancholy and -disappointment intercept the glittering rays of reason’s sun; the -rattling thunder of jealous rage breaks thro’ his trembling sphere, when -his understanding returns but for a moment, ’tis like darted lightning -piercing thro’ the obscure of violent passions, and shews nature in -every lover a confusion almost equal to her original chaos.</p> - -<p>Whoever was really in love (<i>charming Sempronia</i>) will readily confess -the allegory to be just. Tho’ nothing has surprised me more in affairs -of this nature than that most men who have been sensible of this passion -do not care to own it, when once their more indulgent fate has put a -period to it; as if it were a calling their judgment in question to -believe they thought a woman handsom. Your eyes justify our adoration, -and will ever constitute the felicity of</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Corn. Gallus.</i><br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="From_Bully_Dawson_to_Bully_W_8212"></a><i>From Bully</i> <span class="smcap">Dawson</span> <i>to Bully</i> W——</h2> - -<p><i>Confound you for a monumental Sluggard</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> HAVE been dead and damn’d these seven years, and left your talkative -bulkiness behind me as the only fit person in the town to succeed me in -blustring bravadoes and non-killing skirmishes; and you like a lazy -hulk, whose stupendious magnitude is full big enough to load an elephant -with lubberliness, to sot away your time in <i>Mongo</i>’s fumitory, among a -parcel of old smoak-dry’d cadators, and not so much since my departure, -as cut a link-boy over the pate, pink a hackney-coachman, or draw your -sword upon a cripple, to fill the town with new rumours of your wonted -bravery, and make the callow students of the wrangling society wag their -unfledg’d chins over their pennyworths of <i>Ninny Broth</i>? adds -fleshly-wounds, in what sheeps-head ordinary have you chew’d away the -meridian altitude of your tygerantick stomach? and where squander’d away -the tiresom minutes of your evening-leisure,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_180">{180}</a></span> over seal’d <i>Winchesters</i> -of three-penny guzzle: that in all this time you have never exerted your -hectorian talent, but keep your reputation mustying upon an old -foundation, which is ready to sink, for want of being repair’d by some -new notable atchievements.</p> - -<p>Do you think the obsolete renown of cutting off a knight’s thumb in a -duel, and keeping on’t in your pocket three weeks for a tobacco-stopper; -lying with the <i>French</i> king in your travels, and kicking him out of bed -for farting in his sleep; answering the challenge of a life-guardman for -tearing a hole in his stocking with the chape of your sword when his -jack-boots were on; gone where honour calls, behind <i>Southampton</i> walls: -return by five, if alive, <i>Hen. W——n</i>. disarming three highwaymen -upon the road with two-pence half-penny in your pocket, and letting them -go upon their parole of honour; wearing a wig for ten years together -without losing the curl or combing out one hair; taking a tyger by the -tooth; and the <i>Grand seignior</i> by his whiskers; bearing an ensign in a -mimick fight upon your atlantick shoulders; knocking a shiting porter -down, when you were drunk, backwards into his own sir-reverence; your -duel with <i>Johannes in nubibus</i>, in behalf of a lady you never set eyes -on; your eating five shillings-worth of meat at a nine-penny ordinary, -and at last treated by the man of the house to have no more of your -custom; do you think these, or a hundred like antiquated exploits are -sufficient to maintain the character of a stanch bully without new -enterprizes? no, an old reputation is like an old house, which if not -repaired often, must quickly fall of necessity to decay and will at -last, by little, for want of new application, be totally obliterated.</p> - -<p>Therefore, if ever you intend to be my rival in glory, you must fright a -bailiff once a day, stand kick and cuff once a week, challenge some -coward or other once a month, bilk your lodging once a quarter, and -cheat a taylor once a year, crow over every coxcomb you meet with, and -be sure you kick every jilt you bully into an open-legg’d submission and -a compliance of treating you; never till then will the fame of <i>W——n</i> -ring like <i>Dawson</i>’s in every coffee-house, or be the merry subject of -every tavern tittle-tattle.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 337px;"> -<a href="images/ill_010.jpg"> -<img src="images/ill_010.jpg" width="337" height="600" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_181">{181}</a></span></p> - -<p>To let you know I am not like a cock or a bull-dog to lose my courage -when I change my climate, I shall proceed to give you a very modest -account of some of my bold undertakings in these diabolical confines, -these damn’d dusky unsavory grottos, where altho’ there are whole rivers -of brimstone for the convenient dipping of card-matches, yet if a man -would give one ounce of immortality for so much of a rush-candle, ’tis -as hard to be purchas’d upon the faith of a christian, as if you were to -buy honey of a bear, or a stallion of a lascivious duchess, that wants -frication more than she does money; so that at my first entrance into -this damn’d dark cavern, I stagger’d about by guess, like some drunken -son of a whore tumbled into a <i>Newcastle</i> cole-pit; and finding myself -in this ugly condition, I could not forbear breathing a few curses out -upon the place, which, by the lord of the territories, were thrown away -as much in vain, as if I had carried lice to <i>Newgate</i>, or wish’d the -people mad in <i>Bedlam</i>: as I thus blunder’d about like a beetle in a -hollow tree, I happen’d to break my shins against a confounded poker, -upon which I made a damnable swearing for a light, that I might see -whereabouts I was, but to no purpose; I found I might as well have -call’d upon <i>Jupiter</i> to have lent me his hand to have dragg’d me out of -<i>Pluto</i>’s dominions. This sort of stumbling entertainment so provok’d my -patience, that tho’ I knew I was under the devil’s jurisdiction, yet I -could not tell, but like a debtor in a prison, or bully in a -bawdy-house, I might fare the better for mutinying, so that I discharg’d -such a volley of new-coin’d oaths, and made such damn’d roaring and -raving, that the devils began to fear I should put hell in an uproar; -upon this a couple of tatterdemalion hobgobblings, that look’d like a -brace of scare-crows just flown out of a pease-field, seiz’d me by the -shoulders and run me into the bilboes; confound you, said I, for a -couple of hell-cats, what’s this for? For, crys one of the grim -potentates, as saucily as a reforming constable, for your tumultuous -noisy behaviour, why sure, you don’t think you are got into a -bear-garden. Wounds, quoth I, thou talk’st as if the devil kept a -conventicle; why hell at this rate is worse than a parliament-house, if -a man mayn’t have the liberty of speech, especially when ’tis to redress -his grievances.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_182">{182}</a></span></p> - -<p>Just as we were thus parlying, who should come by, but <i>Bob Weden</i>, -jabbering to him self like a jack-daw in a cherry-tree that had lost his -mate, I knew him by his hoarse voice, which sounded like the lowest note -of a double courtel: who’s there, <i>Bob</i>, said I? Captain, says he, I am -heartily glad to see you; yes, yes, I am that very drone of a bag-pipe, -you may know me by my hum; I have got my <i>quietus</i> at last, and I thank -my stars, by the help of rum and hot weather, have bilk’d all my -<i>English</i> creditors. Why where the devil, said I, did you die then, that -you give your creditors, the epithet of <i>English</i>? just over our head, -says he, in that damn’d country <i>Barbadoes</i>, where my brains us’d to -boil by the heat of the sun like a hasty-pudding in a sauce-pan; have -been in a sweat ever since above seven months before I died; all the -while I liv’d in that damn’d treacly colony, I fancied myself to be just -like a live grig toss’d into a frying-pan; and now death, pox on him for -a raw-head and bloody-bones, has toss’d me out of the frying-pan into -the fire. Indeed, <i>Bob</i>, said I, I could wish myself in an ice-house -heartily, for I have been in a kind of hectic fever ever since my -admittance. Zounds, says he, ’tis so hot there’s no enduring on’t; its a -country fit for nothing but a salamander to live in; if <i>Abednego</i>’s -oven had been but half so hot, if any of them had come out without -singing their garments, I’d have forsworn brandy to all eternity. Well -but, prithee captain, how came your pedestals to be in this jeopardy? I -told him the truth tho’ I was in a damn’d lying country, only for -cursing and swearing a little. Oh! says he, you must have a great care -of that for here are a parcel of whiggish devils lately climb’d into -authority, who tho’ they were the forwardest of all the infernal host, -in the rebellion against heaven, yet of late they pretend to such -demurity as to form a society for the <i>Regulation of Manners</i>, tho’ -themselves are a parcel of the wickedest spirits in all hell’s -dominions; but however, have a little patience, I have a justice of -peace hard by of my acquaintance, who tho’ he be one of their kidney as -to matter of religion, yet I know he’ll be as drunk with burn’d brandy -as a sow with hogwash; will bugger a <i>Succubus</i> when his lust’s -predominant; and as for cursing and swearing, he’s more expert at it -than a losing<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_183">{183}</a></span> gamester, and if I meet him in a merry humour, I don’t -doubt but to prevail.</p> - -<p>Thus <i>Bob</i> left me for a few moments, and indeed had we been in a -brandy-shop where we had had any thing to have paid, I should have much -question’d his return; but being in a strange country, where friends are -always glad to meet one another, and being free from the predicament of -a reckoning, I had some hopes of his being as good as his word, which in -the other world all his acquaintance knew as well as my self, he was -never over careful to preserve.</p> - -<p>During his absence, I had little else to do but to curse the country, -and scratch my ears for want of liberty, which were terrified with the -buzzing of a parcel of fanatical souls, who swarm’d as thick as bees at -a <i>Hampshire</i>-farmers, some damning of doctor <i>B——ges</i>, others -confounding of <i>Timothy Cr—soe</i>, some raving against <i>Me—d</i> of -<i>Stepney</i>, others cursing of <i>Salters-Hall</i>, &c. as if the ready road to -hell was to travel through <i>Presbytery</i>.</p> - -<p>By this time my friend <i>Bob</i> was as good as his word, which was the -first time I ever knew him so. Well, says he, you may see I am as sure -as a <i>Robin</i>, I have got your discharge; but the justice swears, had you -been confin’d for any thing besides whoring, drinking, and swearing, you -should have been shackled and been damn’d before he’d ever have releas’d -you; but however here’s a little <i>Scribere cum dasho</i> will set you at -liberty; upon which we call’d the constable of the ward, who, upon sight -of the discharge, freed my supporters from confinement, which was no -sooner done, but with a reciprocal joy for my happy deliverance, we -began a ramble together thro’ all the neighbouring avenues, in hopes to -meet with something that might give us a little diversion; we had not -travelled above an hundred yards, but who should we meet but the old -snarling rogue that us’d to cry <i>poor Jack</i>, with his wife after him; he -no sooner espy’d us, but attack’d us open-mouth’d after the following -manner, <i>Two sharpers without one penny of money in their pockets; a -couple of bullies, and both cowards, ha, ha. Now for a fool with a full -pocket, a good dinner on free-cost, a whore and a tavern, a belly-full -of wine without paying for’t, ha, ha, ha, a hackney-coach for a bilk, or -a brass-shilling, a long sword,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_184">{184}</a></span> never a shirt</i>, White-Fryars <i>i’th’ day -time, a garret at night, ha, ha, ha, ha</i>. Thus the old rascal run upon -us as we pass’d by him, that we were both as glad when we were out of -his reach, as a hen-peck’d cuckold that has shunn’d the hisses of that -serpent he hugs every night in his bosom.</p> - -<p>We had not gone twenty yards farther, scarce out of the reach of the -noisy tongue of this railing peripatetick, but we met <i>Bowman</i> that kept -the <i>Dog-tavern</i> in <i>Drury-lane</i>, whose first salutation was, <i>Pox take -you both for a couple of shammocking rascals, if it had not been for you -and such others of your company, I had been a living man to this day, -for you broke my tavern and that broke my heart. When I went off, -besides book-debts never paid, but cross’d out and forgiven, I had as -much chalk scored up in my bar, upon your account, as would have -whitened the flesh of twenty calves at</i> Rumford, <i>or have cured half the -town of the heart-burn, that never were satisfied to this day, and as -certainly as you are both damn’d, I would arrest you here in the</i> -Devil’<i>s name, but that ye know a foreign plea, or the statute of -limitation are pleadable in defiance of me; and that whore my wife too, -that used to open her sluice and let in an inundation of shabroons to -gratify her concupiscence, she lent her helping buttock among ye to -shove on my ruin; but if ever I catch the strumpet in these territories, -I’ll sear up the bung-hole of her filthy firkin, but I’ll reward her for -her bitching</i>. <i>Confound you, cries</i> Bob, <i>for a cuckoldy cydermonger; -do not you know damnation pays every man’s scores, and tho’ we tick’d in -the other world for subsistence, it was not with a design to cheat you -or any body else, for we knew we should have the Devil to pay one time -or other, and now you see, like honest men, we have pawned our souls for -the whole reckoning, and so a fart for our creditors; you see we had -rather be damn’d than not to make general satisfaction, and yet you are -not satisfied. Why a man at this rate had better live in</i> Newgate <i>to -eternity, than be thus plagued with creditors after his arse, to put him -in mind of old scores wherever he travels; besides, ’tis against the law -of humanity, for a man to be dunn’d for a domestick debt in a foreign -country. Well, gentlemen</i>, says he, <i>I find you have not forgot your old -principles; and so<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_185">{185}</a></span> good by to ye</i>. And thus, as <i>old Nic</i> would have -it, we got rid of our second plague.</p> - -<p>As we went from thence, turning down into a steep narrow lane, -irregularly pav’d with rugged flints, like the bottom of a mountain in -<i>North-Wales</i>, a damn’d greasy great fellow, with his hair thrust under -a dirty night-cap, in a dimity-wastcoat and buff-breeches, with a hugh -bucks-horn-handle-knife hanging by a silver-chain at his apron-strings, -came puffing and blowing up the hill against us, like a <i>crampus</i> before -a storm, sweating as if he had been doing the drudgery of <i>Sisyphus</i>, -and coming near us he makes a halt, and looking me full in my face, -gives a mannerly bow, and cries, <i>Your servant noble captain: Friend</i>, -said I, <i>I don’t know thee. Ah! master</i>, said he, <i>time was, when you -condescended to eat many a sop in the pan in my poor kitchin; I kept the -sign of the gridiron in</i> Waterlane <i>for many years together, but have -been damn’d, the lord help me, above these nine months, for only -cozening my customers with slink veal</i>. I told him I was sorry for his -condition, and hop’d I did not owe him any thing: <i>No, worthy master</i>, -says he, <i>not a farthing, for you never had more at a meal than a -half-penny rowl, and I always, because you were a gentleman, allow’d you -the benefit of my dripping-pan, and every time you came, you paid me for -my bread very honestly</i>. I did not much approve of the rogue’s memory, -so bid him farewel: but my friend <i>Weden</i>, like a bantering dog, did so -terrify my ears about my half-penny ordinary, that I had rather for the -time been flung naked into a tuft of nettles.</p> - -<p>As he was thus teazing me, who should we stumble upon but captain -<i>Swinny</i> the <i>Irishman</i>; you cannot but imagine a very joyful -congratulation pass’d between us: who had been stanch friends, such old -and intimate acquaintance. No sooner was our salutation over, but we -began to enquire as we us’d to do upon earth, into one another’s -circumstances: upon which, says <i>Swinny, By my soul and shalvation, I -have got my good old lord here, that I us’d to procure and pimp for in -t’other world; and as he gave me money upon earth to indulge him in his -sins, and provide him whores to cool his lechery, now he’s damn’d for’t, -like a grateful master, he allows me every day a dish of snapdragons to -fetch him water from</i> Styx, <i>to cool his entrails</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_186">{186}</a></span> I think, says -<i>Bob</i>, you were always very careful of your lord’s health, and never -brought any thing to his embraces but unpenetrated maids, or very sound -thorn-backs. <i>By chriesh and shaint Patrick, ’tis very true</i>, says he, -<i>for I always made my self his taster for fear he should be poison’d, -and first took a sip of the cup to try whether the juice was good or no; -and tho’ he was as great a wencher as any was in</i> England, <i>I’ll take my -swear, excepting the gout, he’s come as sound a nobleman into hell, as -has took leave of the other world these fifty years, and was so very -bobborous two days ago, tho’ he’s near seventy, that he bid me look out -for soft-handed she-devil to give him a little frication, and said -nothing vex’d him but that he was damn’d among a parcel of spirits, with -whom he could have no carnal copulation: well, gentlemen, I must loiter -no longer, I am travelling in haste to</i> Styx <i>to fill my lord’s bottle, -but all won’t cool his lechery, tho’ he be turn’d a perfect aquapote so, -my dear joys, farewel</i>.</p> - -<p>We had not parted with him as many minutes a man may beget his likeness -in, but who should we meet but <i>Mumford</i> the player, looking as pale as -a ghost, falling forward as gently as a catterpillar cross a -sicamore-leaf, gaping for a little air, like a sinner just come out of -the powdering tub, crying out as he crept towards us, <i>Oh my back! -confound ’em for a pack of brimstones: Oh my back!</i> how now, Sir -<i>Courtly</i>, said I, what the devil makes thee in this pickle? Oh, -<i>gentlemen</i>, says he, I am glad to see you, but I am troubled with such -a weakness in my back, that it makes me bend like a superannuated -fornicator: some strain, said I, got in the other world with overheaving -your self. What’s matter how ’twas got, says he, can you tell me any -thing that’s good for’t? yes, said I, get a good warm <i>Girdle</i> and tie -round you, ’tis an excellent corroboratick to strengthen the loins; pox -on you, says he, for a bantering dog how can a single girdle do me good, -when a <i>Brace</i> was my destruction? I think, said I, you did die a martyr -for a pair of penetrable whiskers, fell a bleeding sacrifice to a cloven -tuft, that was glad, I believe, of your going out of the other world, as -old <i>Nic</i> was of your coming into this, for I hear you kept the poor -titmouse under such slavish subjection, that a peer of the realm, -notwithstanding his honour, could not so much as come in to be<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_187">{187}</a></span> -brother-starling with you. Nay, some say you put an <i>Italian</i> security -upon’t, purposely to indict any body for felony and burglary that should -break open the lock. Pox confound you, says he, for a lyar, how can that -be, when half the pit knows they had egress and regress when they -pleas’d without any manner of obstruction? but tattling here won’t do my -business, I must seek out <i>Needham</i>, <i>Lower</i>, or some other famous -physician that may give me ease; so gentlemen, adieu to ye.</p> - -<p>We had not gone much farther, but at the corner of a dirty lane we found -a wondrous throng of attentive scoundrels, serenaded by a couple of -ballad-singers, who stood in the middle of the tatter’d audience, with -their hands under their ears, singing, <i>With a rub, rub, rub, rub, rub, -rub, in and out, in and out ho</i>: who should come limping by just in the -interim, but Mr. <i>Dryden</i> the poet: there’s a delicious song for you, -gentlemen, says he, there are luscious words wrapt up in clean linen for -you; tho’ there is a very bawdy mystery in them, yet they are so -intelligibly express’d, that a girl of ten years old may understand the -meaning of them; my lord <i>Rochester</i>’s songs are mine arse to it: well -my dear <i>Love for Love</i>, thou deservest to be poet laureat, were it only -for the composure of this seraphick ditty, ’tis enough to put musick -into the tail of an old woman of fourscore, and make a girl of fourteen -to be as knowing in her own thoughts, as her parents that got her; oh, -’tis a song of wonderful instruction, of incomparable modesty, -considering its meaning. Who should come puffing into the crowd in -abundance of haste, with a face as red as a new pantile, but <i>Nat Lee</i>? -Hark you, <i>Nat</i>, says <i>Dryden</i>, did you ever here such a feeling ballad -in your life before? egad, the words steal so cunningly into ones veins, -that nature will scarce be pacified till she has dropt some loose corns -into one’s breeches. Foh, you old lecherous beast, says <i>Nat Lee</i>, -here’s a song indeed for a poet-bays of your gravity to admire! I have -heard twenty better under <i>White-Fryars</i> gate-way. You’re a mad man, -says <i>Dryden</i>, you never understood a song in your life, nor any thing -else, but jumbling the gods about, as if they were so many tapsters in a -lumber-house. I’ll sing you a song, says <i>Lee</i>, worth fifty on’t that I -made when I was in <i>Bedlam</i>, to be sung in my play, that had<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_188">{188}</a></span> five and -twenty acts in’t; now pray observe me, and your self shall be judge.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>The gods on a day when their worships were idle,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Met all at the sign of the</i> half-moon <i>and</i> fiddle;<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Old</i> Bacchus <i>and</i> Venus <i>did lovingly joyn,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And swore there was nothing like women and wine:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>They drank till they all were as merry as grigs,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And wallowed about like a litter of pigs;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Till their heads and their tails were so little apart,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>the breath of a belch, mix’d with that of a fart;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>But as it fell out, poor unfortunate</i> Mars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Just nodded his nose into</i> Venus’<i>s arse;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Why how now, says</i> Mars, <i>ye old jade, d’y’ suppose,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Your arse was design’d as a case for my nose?</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Then pulling his head from her bumb, fell a swearing,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Her honour smelt worse than a stinking red-herring</i>,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Well, says Mr. <i>Lee</i>, after he had ended his ditty, what think you now, -Mr. <i>Dryden</i>? Think, says he, what should I think? I think there is more -pretty tickling sort of wit in the very <i>chorus</i> of the other, than -there is in all your piece of frantick trumpery. Thus we leave them -squabbling together, which song should have the preference, and so stept -forward.</p> - -<p>We had not jogg’d on above a quarter of a mile further, but a parcel of -spirits in the shape of screech-owls came hovering over our heads, -crying out, <i>Make room, make room, for the chief pastor of the flock -will be here to night</i>. Think we, here’s some great guest or other a -coming; for my part I thought nothing less than an archbishop of -<i>C-n——y</i>: my friend <i>Bob</i> was much of my opinion, and cry’d, there -was some fat priest coming in to pay his garnish, but who should it -prove at last but a dissenting doctor, trick’d up in a band and cloak, -and all the factious ornaments becoming a squeamish conscience, attended -with abundance of bald crowns and gray hairs, who came hobbling after -him like the old men of the <i>Charter-house</i>, behind their chaplain to -eleven a-clock prayers. My friend <i>Bob</i> and I having both a curiosity to -know what <i>Don Prattlebox</i> it was, enquir’d of a devil who had a -discerning countenance, if he knew who this new comer was?<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_189">{189}</a></span> He answer’d -us ’twas doctor <i>Ma—th—w T—y—r</i> of <i>Salters-hall</i>, and those that -attend him were some of his congregation, who were come in order to take -up lodgings for the rest, who would not be long after: Adsheart, says -<i>Bob</i>, they are the most faithful flock in the universe, for if their -shepherd comes to the devil, I see they will be sure to follow him, -whilst the churchmen are such a parcel of straying sheep, that tho’ -their guides go to heaven themselves, they can perswade but very few of -their congregation to bear them company.</p> - -<p>The next person that we met with as we were rambling about, was <i>Harry -Care</i>, the whiggish pamphleteer, who was stuff’d all over with papers as -thick as a buttock of beef with parsley, and coming near us, he ask’d -how long we had been in? Sir, said I, we are both but lately come from -the other world: pray gentlemen, says he, can you tell me how my old -friend Sir <i>Roger l’Estrange</i> does, and whether you hear any thing of -his coming into these parts, for I am at a great loss for some body to -exercise my talent with? I left him very well, said I, but when he takes -leave of the upper world, whether he goes up hill or down hill to -eternity I can’t inform you. Sir, says he, your humble servant; and away -he troop’d and left us without further impertinence.</p> - -<p>As we were passing by the door of a little brandy-shop, who should be -sitting upon an old worm-eaten bench, but <i>Sam Scott</i> the Fiddle-seller, -and <i>Will. Elder</i> the graver, each with a huge <i>Dutch</i> pipe of infernal -mundungus in their mouths smoaking for two penny-worth of -anniseed-water. <i>Sam. Scott</i> had one while got the start of him, which -<i>Will Elder</i> perceiving, exercised his lungs so very strenuously, that -he overtook him at the last whiff, which they discharg’d with such -remarkable exactness, that none of the standers by could undertake to -decide the wager: when their pipes were out, we saluted one another with -abundance of friendship, and <i>Sam. Scott</i> having an ascendency over the -house, invited us to take part of a bowl of punch, and just as we were -stepping in, who should come by but <i>O——n P——ce</i> that dy’d drunk -at the <i>Dog</i>-tavern in the company of my friend <i>Weden</i>: mighty joyful -we were to meet thus fortunately together; and to crown the happy -juncture with an hour’s mirth, we stept into the little<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_190">{190}</a></span> conveniency, -every soul seating himself upon an empty rundlet like a godson of -<i>Bacchus</i>, in order to receive the promis’d blessing: by that time we -had every one ramm’d a full charge of sot-weed into our infernal guns, -in order to fumify our immortalities, the scull of <i>Goliah</i> was brought -in for a punch-bowl fill’d with such incomparable <i>Heliconian</i> juice, -that six drops of it would make a man a better poet than either -<i>Shakespear</i> or <i>Ben. Johnson</i>: by that time a cup or two were gone -about to <i>Pluto</i> and my lady <i>Proserpine</i>, we began to fall into a merry -inquisition about one another’s damnation: prithee <i>Sam. Scott</i>, said I, -what the devil were you damn’d for? why, I’ll tell you, says <i>Sam</i>. I -was found guilty of a couple of indictments, one was for consuming 975 -papers of tobacco in six months, without any assistance, to the -poisoning of many a ptisicky citizen about <i>Temple-bar</i>; and the other -was smoaking my dog to death without any provocation. Come, <i>Bob -Weeden</i>, said I ’tis your turn next, let us go round with it, prithee -what charge did the hellish informers bring against you? To tell you the -truth, says he, they prov’d me guilty of two great crimes too, one was -for dealing by my friends very knavishly: and the other was for living -by my wits very foolishly. Come, captain <i>Dawson</i>, says the company, -what sort of conviction are you under? as for my part, <i>gentlemen</i>, said -he, the chief thing that condemn’d me, was the sin of forgetfulness; -’twas only for bilking my lodging, and being so careless to leave my -perriwig-come behind me. Well, neighbour <i>P——ce</i>, said I, what was it -brought you into these territories? ’twas for living like a rake, says -he, without money, and dying drunk in a tavern with twelve shillings in -my pocket. <i>Will. Elder</i> being the last, we summ’d up our enquiry with -his confession; truly says he, mine was a very great fault I must -acknowledge, no less than the damnable sin of omission: you must know, -<i>gentlemen</i>, the chief of my business was to grave the <i>Lord’s-Prayer</i> -within the compass of a silver penny; but to tell you the truth, I never -thought of it but when I was at work, since my eyes were open, and ’tis -chiefly for that neglect I suffer this confinement.</p> - -<p>Well, says <i>Bob Weeden</i>, for my part, now I have got a bowl of Punch -before me, and such good company, I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_191">{191}</a></span> would not give a nitt out of my -shirt-collar to return back to my old quarters upon earth, for that was -but a life full of extreams, and this can be no other; for there I was -always very drunk or very drowsy, surfeited or very hungry, generally -very poor and very pocky, afraid to walk the streets, and no money to -keep me within doors; thought very witty by fools, and by wise men very -wicked, was every body’s jester that wanted wit, and a blockhead to all -those that had it; dunn’d every where, and trusted no where; car’d not -for any body, and belov’d by no body: and what station on this side -death can be worse than such a miserable life? What signifies a little -hot weather, when a man’s assur’d it can’t endanger his health; nothing -can be subject to sickness but what is liable to death, and that period, -immortality is free from. Come then said I, if it be so, here’s a bumper -in memory of the cellar at the <i>Still</i>, and honest <i>Jack Ni——ls</i> the -harper, count <i>C——ni——s</i>, captain <i>Wa-k-er</i>, and all the jolly -lads of our loving acquaintance, with a huzza. In this manner we spent -the evening as merrily as so many tars under the tropicks, over their -forfeitures, till at last we had the devil to pay with empty pockets: -but <i>Sam Scott</i>, who was the undertaker of the treat, having made his -coffin into a bass-viol, gave my landlady a lesson, two or three kisses, -and a few fair words, and prevailed with her to trust him for the -reckoning; so being all saluted with you’re welcome gentlemen, we all -arose like a company of coopers from our tubs and our rundlets, and went -away hooping for more liquor.</p> - -<p>These are all the remarkable passages that at present I think worth -transmitting to you: so, hoping you will requite me after the like -manner with something that may be entertaining to a gentleman under my -warm circumstances; if it be an essay upon ice, or a treatise of the -sovereign efficacy of rock-water, it will be a very cooling satisfaction -to your parboil’d friend,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Dawson</span>.<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_192">{192}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a id="Mr_Henry_W_8212s_Answer_to_Bully_Dawson"></a><i>Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Henry W——</span>’<i>s Answer to Bully</i> <span class="smcap">Dawson</span>.</h2> - -<p class="c"><i>Noble Captain and Commander in Chief of all the Cowards in -Christendom.</i></p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span>F being smoak’d-dry’d up a chimney, like a flitch of bacon, thro’ fear -of bayliffs, being kick’d thro’ the whole town by every coxcomb, being -pox’d by every whore, and dunn’d by every scoundrel, starving, lousing, -begging, borrowing, bullying, and all the plagues of human life, would -never mend your manners upon earth, I have little reason to believe the -strict discipline of hell can make any reformation in so incorrigible a -libertine; what reason have I ever given you to affront a poet? A -gentleman of the law, a member of an inn of <i>Chancery</i>, an officer in -the trained-bands, a man of invention, known courage, worth and -integrity; a gentleman of my stature, figure, and parts, that am able to -crush a thousand such nitts as thou art under my thumb-nail: ’tis well -known to the world, I have fought many duels with success, writ many -lampoons with applause, manag’d many causes to my clients satisfaction, -told many a pleasant story to the benefit of coffee-houses, flirted out -many a jest to the delight of my companions, march’d out often to the -credit of St. <i>Clement</i>’s trained-bands, when I have been the only -wonder of all the little boys that followed us, who, to the pleasure of -my own ears, have cry’d aloud, there goes a tall ensign, there’s a -swanking fellow for you between the two blunderbusses; there’s a -<i>Goliah</i>, says the men; there’s a strong-back’d <i>Sampson</i>, says the -women: And shall I, because I have been guilty of two or three little -slips, which no man is exempt from, be put in mind of ’em, by such an -arrogant crackfart as thou art: I tell thee, bully, if thou wer’t but to -be found upon earth, I would grind thee in a paper-mill for thy -insolence, till I had made bumfodder of thee: but however, since charity -obliges every good christian to forgive a man when he is dead, I shall -pass by your affront, and take no more notice of it for the future; but -upon the word of a man of honour, had you been living, I would no more -have forgiven you, than I would<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_193">{193}</a></span> have gone one day without a dinner if I -had but one book in my library; therefore all things shall be forgotten, -tho’ you have deserv’d the contrary. And since you have obliged me with -a short journal of your transactions on the other side <i>Styx</i>, I think -myself oblig’d in honour to make a return of your civility after the -like manner, for the world knows me to be a man of a forgiving temper, -and I scorn by bearing malice, or studying revenge, to forfeit my -character.</p> - -<p>I happen’d the other night in company with some men of honour, brave -fellows, who were a little nice in their conversation, as well as their -wine, that try’d every word that was spoke by the touch-stone of good -manners, and one of them happening to say he was a lieutenant on board -one of his majesty’s small frigats, when so violent a storm rose upon -the coast of <i>Ireland</i>, that a monumental sea washing over the topmast -head, by the very pressure of its weight sunk the vessel to the bottom -of the ocean, which gave such a prodigious knock against the sand with -her keel, that the very rebound, being a tight ship, sent her up again -to the surface, without damage; and that by a watch of <i>Tompion</i>’s, -which he had in his pocket, they were three quarters of an hour and some -odd minutes in this dangerous expedition, that is, in going down and -coming up again. Lord Sir, says I, how did you breathe all that while? -Zoons, Sir, says he, ’tis an affront to ask a gentleman such a question, -and I demand satisfaction? am I bound to tell every blockhead how many -times I fetch my breath in three quarters of an hour? Nay, Sir, said I, -if you are for that sport, have at you, I’m a man of honour, and dare -wait upon you any where; with that he whisper’d me to go down stairs, -which we both did accordingly, and drawing at the door, the first pass I -made was a home thrust (for I never love to dally in such cases) and I -run him thro’ the centre of the fifth jubilee button of his coat, and -just scratch’d him in the breast, upon which he dropp’d his sword, -believing I had kill’d him; but I taking up the fallen weapon, stepp’d -to him and unbrac’d him, found he was more afraid than hurt; and that it -was but a small prick that signified nothing: Now, pray Sir, said I, how -did you breathe, I think I may make bold to ask you? I’ll tell you, Sir, -said he, I took in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_194">{194}</a></span> water at my mouth, just as a fish does, but -having no gills to give it vent, I let it out of my fundament. Upon -which answer, I was well satisfy’d, gave him his sword, and we became as -great friends as the devil and the earl of <i>Kent</i>.</p> - -<p>Another duel I had since that, (for you must know challenges come thick -and threefold upon me, like actions upon a breaking shop-keeper) which I -hope for its singularity, will prove a little entertaining to you; I -happened lately to be invited to a gentleman’s chamber in <i>Grays-Inn</i>, -to drink part of a bowl of punch; accordingly I went, and was very -plentifully entertained among some other gentlemen of my acquaintance, -with a capacious vessel of this most noble <i>Diapente</i>, insomuch, that we -were all elevated above the use of our legs, as well as our reason. The -gentleman that gave us the entertainment, by the assistance of his man, -made a shift to get to bed about twelve at night, but the rest lay up -and down in the corners of the room, snoaring like so many gorg’d swine, -and battening in their own snivel, which tobacco had drain’d from their -moist entrails: I guarded the garrison of good liquor the very last man, -and maintain’d my post at the table like a true <i>English</i> hero, till -between <i>Bacchus</i> and <i>Morpheus</i>, like the rest of my companions, I was -lull’d into a lethargy, and falling forward in my chair upon the table, -my forehead happen’d to take the edge of the punch bowl, and turn’d it -clear over my head, that it served me for a night-cap, my nose being -drowned in the remains of the punch; every time I drew up my breath, up -went a spoonful, so that in a little time my nostrils were syring’d as -clean as a lady’s honour by noon, that has drank two quarts of <i>Epsom</i> -waters for her mornings draught: but after some time being almost -suffocated, nature finding itself oppress’d, gave me a jog, and wak’d me -out of this drunken slumber. I had not scratch’d my ears, and rubb’d my -eyes above three minutes, but awakes another; O lord! says he, that a -man should lead this wicked life, to be married but a fortnight and play -these tricks, my wife will think I am a whoring already, or plague -herself with some damn’d whimsy or other. By this time a third awakes, -starts up like a ghost out of a grave, crying, A little drink for the -Lord’s sake, for I am</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 332px;"> -<a href="images/ill_011.jpg"> -<img src="images/ill_011.jpg" width="332" height="600" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_195">{195}</a></span></p> - -<p class="nind">as drowsy as if I had been dry’d in an oven all night, and with that -whips up the punch-bowl to his head, and drinks off the rincings of my -nostrils as heartily as if it had been sherbet made on purpose for a -cooler, and by the way, ever since that time has found such an -alteration in his faculties, that from a very dull fellow he is become -an absolute wit, to the admiration of all that knew him, tho’ I never -durst tell him it was from the dripping of my brains that he deriv’d his -ingenuity. But to be short in my story, when I was thoroughly awak’d, I -began to have a wambling in my stomach, as if I had supp’d over night -with a mountebank’s toad-eater, the chamber-pot being full, I was -unwilling to defile the room, and before I was aware, let fly into my -<i>lignum-vitæ</i> night-cap, and being then pretty well at ease, I open’d -the chamber door, and stagger’d homewards; at the end of <i>Turnstile</i> I -happen’d to make a trip at a drunkard’s enemy, a stump, and down I -tumbled; who should come by before I could get up again, but the -constable going his rounds, who quickly made me the centre of a circle -of jack of lanthorns, and seeing me grovelling on the ground, did not -know but some body had mischiev’d me, upon which they ask’d me if I was -wounded? Yes said I, sadly cut. Where, where, Sir, cries the watchmen? I -reply’d, about the head; they cry’d out, who did it, who did it! punch, -punch, said I; one of the watchmen being a fat short fellow, they us’d -to call him punch, by my soul, Sir, said he to the constable, I never -saw the gentleman all the night before, and with that they haul’d me up, -and perceiving their mistake, two of them, like honest fellows, handed -me home to my chambers, without so much as stealing my hat, or picking -my pockets, which was a wonder: I had not been many hours in bed, but -comes the footman of the gentleman who entertain’d us, to my door with a -challenge, for affronting him for his civility, by spewing into his -punch-bowl. I sent him word I would not fail to meet him at the time and -place appointed, God willing; so put on a clean shirt, and equipp’d -myself for the adventure. But considering I had a man of fortitude to -deal with, and one that would face any thing upon earth, except a cat, -which he hated much more than he did the sight of the devil; I -therefore<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_196">{196}</a></span> thought policy beyond strength against such an adversary, so -resolv’d to set my wits to work to prevent bloodshed, and fortunately -having a cat in my chamber that had not kitten’d above a week? I took -the whole progeny out of the nest, which consisted of half a dozen, puts -three into one coat-pocket, and three into t’other, and away I march’d -behind <i>Southampton-wall</i> to meet my antagonist; where I waited but a -few minutes e’er he approach’d the place in a great fury; I argued the -matter reasonably with him, but found nothing would atone for the -affront but downright fighting, so steping a few paces back, he gave me -the word and draws. I instead of applying my hands to my sword, apply’d -them to my safer ammunition the kittens, and fortifies each fist with a -young Mrs. <i>Evans</i>; I grip’d ’em hard to make ’em mew, that the onset -might be the more terrible; no sooner did he set his eyes upon his -little squawling adversaries, but away he scower’d, as if a legion of -devils had been in pursuit of him. I after him, tossing now and then one -of my hand-granadoes at him, but took care to pick them up again, lest -my ammunition should be spent. Who should follow me into the fields at a -distance by the scent, but the old one, in quest of her young, who by -this time came up with us, and seeing her hopeful issue thus terribly -abus’d, she flew about like a fury; at first he only travers’d his -ground at a little distance, but when he saw the mother of the family -come cocking her tail, whetting her talons, and staring worse than a -dead pig, he ran outright to <i>Totnam-Court</i>, as if vengeance had pursued -him, took sanctuary at <i>Inman</i>’s, since which retreat I have not yet -seen him; but for self-preservation, which you know is nature’s law, I -have ever since walk’d arm’d with a brace of kittens in my pocket, for -fear of farther danger.</p> - -<p>These are late testimonials of my courage, to let you see I dare yet -meet any body upon the old killing spot, tho’ he be a better man than -myself, and what is wanting in courage, I can supply with policy at any -time: therefore consider how much you wrong me when you accuse me of -idleness, since my prowess is sufficiently shewn in every days -adventure.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_197">{197}</a></span></p> - -<p>So much for my courage, and now for a few certificates of my wit, for -which the world, as well as yourself, knows I am equally famous: I -happen’d the other day to be at <i>Nando</i>’s coffee-house in company with a -person, who was exclaiming heavily against a weaver of whores hair for -cheating him in a wig. Sir, said I, next time you have occasion for a -new noddle-case, if you please, I’ll recommend you to the honestest -perriwig maker in <i>Christendom</i>; I bought this wig on my head of him, it -cost me but fifteen shillings, and I have wore it <i>de die in diem</i> these -nine years and upwards, and you see it’s not yet dwindled into -scandalous circumstances; and, Sir, if you please I’ll tell you for what -reason he can afford better penny-worths than the rest of the trade; in -the first place, you must know he dwells at <i>Chelmsford</i> in <i>Essex</i>, and -the country you are sensible admits of cheap living; in the next place, -he has nineteen daughters in his family, all bred up to his own trade, -who being kept unmarried, that their radical moisture should by no means -be exhausted, their own hair grows so prodigiously fast that it keeps -them all employ’d from the first day of <i>January</i>, to the last of -<i>December</i>, setting aside holy-days; once in four years he mows the -family round, never failing of a very plentiful crop; much about this -time I reckon his harvest is ripe, and all the neighbouring gentlemen -are flocking in to bespeak their perriwigs; some are fair girls, some -brown, some black, so that he can mix up a colour to suit any -complexion. And is this true, Sir, says the young priest? true, Sir, -said I, I hope you don’t think me so little of a christian to impose -upon a scholar, a gentleman of your function: ’tis so true, Sir, that it -brings a great trade to the town, and every body knows that <i>Essex</i>, for -<i>Chelmsford</i> wigs, and <i>Rumford</i> calves, out-does all the counties in -<i>England</i>. Say you so, says the <i>Levite</i>, I am come up to town about a -little business that will require my attendance about a fortnight, and -having a horse that has nothing else to do, I’ll e’en make a journey -thither to morrow, and try if I can chaffer. Sir, said I, there is not -such hair in the kingdom of <i>England</i>, as in his family, for they are -all virtuous girls, and that makes their hair the stronger; besides, all -the clergy round him are his customers, because he makes up his wigs -without any mixture of whores hair; for as<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_198">{198}</a></span> contagious fumes we are -sensible will corrupt the body, who knows but the effluvias emitted from -the locks of a polluted woman, hanging so near the noftrils may be -suck’d in, to the strengthning of loose inclinations, and may beget an -appetite to fornication, too rebellious and powerful for reason to curb -into an orderly subjection. Well, says the young doctor, I’ll have one -of the wigs to carry into the country with me and please the pigs; at -<i>Chelmsford</i> you say? yes, Sir, at <i>Chelmsford</i> said I, the least child -in in the town knows him; ask but for the Barber and his nineteen -daughters, and you cannot miss of him.</p> - -<p>Having thus laid the scene, I took my leave, and adjourn’d about the -business of the day, and coming from <i>Montague</i>’s shop three or four -days afterwards, I stepp’d into the same coffee-house, where I happen’d -to meet with the spiritual pastor just coming to town, who had been -erring and straying like a lost sheep in quest of <i>Tonsor in nubibus</i>. -As soon as ever he set eyes upon me, he attack’d me tooth and nail, with -as much fury as if I had been brother to the <i>Whore of Baylon</i>, and told -me I was some <i>Papist</i>, or otherwise a <i>Fanatick</i>, or else I would have -had more religion in me, than to have made a fool of a man of his -function, for that he had taken a journey on purpose to <i>Chelmsford</i>, -and could find no such barber. Pray, Sir, said I, don’t be so angry, for -since I never gave ear to your preaching, why should you listen to my -prating? and since you make fools of a whole parish every sunday, how -can you be so angry with a man to make a fool of you once in his life -time? so turn’d my back, and left the whole company to laugh at him.</p> - -<p>You must know I love dearly to put a jest upon a priest, because it was -always my opinion, they put more jests upon the world than any people; -besides, any body may put a trick upon a block-head, but that conduces -but little to a man’s reputation. I love to put my jokes upon men of -parts, that the world may see I can bite the biter; nothing carries the -burthen of another man’s wit with a greater grace, than a sacerdotal -dromedary; therefore to let you see the wonderful regard I bear to -religion, I have one story, or piece of wit more to entertain you with, -that I hope may further divert you.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_199">{199}</a></span></p> - -<p>I chanc’d to be in company with a parcel of grave sermon-hunters, and -among a long catalogue of reverend orators, whose name should bring up -the rear of the eminent <i>Black-List</i>, but my honest neighbour the -dean’s? I took not their flattery for my example, but gave my tongue the -liberty to speak as I thought, and said, he was a learned blockhead; -some of my good friends had the civility to report my saying to him. -Upon which, he sent the reader of the parish to admonish me, who came -one morning very solemnly to my chamber, and took upon him to tell me -how dishonourably and unchristian-like I had done, in aspersing the -doctor with the calumny of being a learned blockhead. Truly, Sir, said -I, I am sorry I should be so unmannerly to express my sentiments so -freely: but however, since it is done and can’t be help’d, I desire you -will go back and tell him it’s more than I can say by you, for thou art -a blockhead without any learning at all, and a fit man to be sent upon -such errands. Upon this answer he lugg’d his hat over his eyes, and ran -away as sullen and as silent as the devil pinch’d by the nose did from -St. <i>Dunstan</i>, when the old gentleman had loosen’d his barnacles.</p> - -<p>Now for a piece of my poetry to let you see my talent is universal, and -then I believe I shall have quitted scores with you. In a hot sunshine -day this summer, when the sun was climb’d to his meridian heighth, and -the progeny of every cow-turd had taken wing, and were buzzing about -streets in search of cooks shops, sugarbakers, and grocers, that a man -cou’d not walk <i>London</i>-streets without having his nose persecuted by -gnats, wasps or blue-bottles, my stomach, which is generally as forward -without sustenance at that hour, as a hungry sucking child without the -bubby, would not let me be at rest till I had purchased its pacification -at the expence of nine-pence; in order to gratify the cormorant, I -stepp’d into a cook’s shop where a six-penny slice of veal was brought -me, so garnish’d with fly-blows, that there lay a whole covey of the -little embroys upon every morsel, that I had more picking work than a -surgeon has with a patient whose buttocks are pepper’d with small shot, -which put me in such a poetick fury, by that time I had half swallowed -up my noonings, that I pluck’d out my pen and ink, and whilst my fancy -was warm writ a satire against <i>Fly-Blows</i>, wherein<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_200">{200}</a></span> perhaps you may -find as much wit and ill nature mix’d artfully together as you may in -that incomparable satire, <i>The True-born Englishman</i>; so pray read and -judge favourably.</p> - -<p>A Satire against <i>Fly-Blows</i>. By Mr. <i>W</i>——</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i><span class="bigg">Y</span>E worst of vermin that our isle affords,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Spawn of curs’d flies, engender’d first in t—rds</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Ye nitty off-spring of a winged plague,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>That swarms in mutton from the rump to th’ craig:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Tormentors of our cooks, all</i> England’s <i>foes,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>From rural gluttons, to our</i> London <i>beaus.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>In ev’ry cloven joint thy mother’s blow,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Where if not crush’d, you will to maggots grow,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Raise your black heads, and crawl about our food,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And poison what was eatable and good;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Pollute that flesh which should our lives maintain,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>To dogs condemn what was design’d for man.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Ye eggs of mischief that in clusters dwell,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Hateful to the eyes and nauseous to the smell,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Ill omens of a worse succeeding harm,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>That makes good housewives blush, the husbands storm.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For thee the faultless cook-maid bears the blame,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>More salt, you slattern, crys the angry dame,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And then the falchion-ladle goes to work:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I’ll teach you, jade, to salt the beef and pork.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>May showers of brine each powdering-tub o’erflow,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Pepper and salt in every orchard grow;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Then may each hand to seas’ning be employ’d,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>That thy curs’d race may be at once destroy’d.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>I’ll assure you, <i>Captain</i>, these verses are highly in esteem among all -dealers in flesh, I have had many a dinner for a copy of them, to be put -into a gilt frame, and hung up in a cook’s shop to give people a -concocting laugh after dinner, that their victuals mayn’t lie heavy upon -their stomachs. By this time I believe I have pretty well tir’d your -patience, so think it full time to conclude myself,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Your Humble Servant</i>,<br /> -<br /> -W——<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_201">{201}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a id="From_Nell_Gwin_to_Peg_Hughes"></a><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Nell Gwin</span> <i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Peg Hughes</span>.</h2> - -<p><i>Sister Peg</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">O</span>F all the concubines in christendom, that ever were happy in so kind a -keeper, none sure ever squandered away the fruits of her labour so -indiscreetly as yourself; whoring and gaming I acknowledge are two very -serviceable vices in a common-wealth, because they make money circulate; -but for a woman that has enrich’d herself by the one, to impoverish -herself by the other, is so great a fault, that a harlot deserves -correction for. Some people may think copulation a very easy and -delightful way of getting money, but they are much mistaken, for the -pains, you know as well as myself, which we take to please our -benefactors, destroy our own pleasure, and make it become a toil we are -forc’d to sweat at. Then who, but you, that had acquired such plentiful -possessions by the labour of her bum, and sweat of her brows, would have -tossed away thousands in a night upon the chance of a card, or fate of a -die, as if you believed your honour was an <i>Indian</i> mine, which would -furnish you with gold to eternity for the trouble of digging: but now, -Madam, you find yourself mistaken, for those crows-feet that have laid -hold of the corners of your eyes, and wrinkly age, that in spight of -art, supplies the places of your absent charms, fright away the amorous -and the generous from your experienc’d embraces: besides, women, I hear, -are so plentiful upon earth, that a lady of our quality, must be the -true copy of an angel in appearance, whose favours shall be thought -worth meat, drink, washing, lodging, and cloaths; so that a pretty woman -now a-days may make a slave of her bumfiddle for thirty years together, -and not get money enough to keep her out of an hospital, or an -alms-house at the age of fifty. I, you see, thro’ the whole course of my -life, maintain’d my post, and as I was mistress to a king, liv’d as -great as a duchess to my last minute; and you, like an extravagant -concubine, to game away an estate, in few years, large enough to have -maintain’d a score of younger brothers listed into your ladyship’s -service, who would have drudg’d to oblige you as<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_202">{202}</a></span> much as you did to -delight the good old gentleman that gave it to you; fie upon’t, I am -asham’d to think, that a woman who had wit enough to tickle a prince out -of so fine an estate, should at last prove such a fool as to be bubbled -of it by a little spotted ivory and painted paper; if that mouth could -have spoke that had labour’d hard to earn the penny, and miser-like was -always gaping for more riches, sure it would have scolded at your -profuse hands, for flinging away that estate so fast which they had but -a small share in getting of, but indeed it is not fit the silent beard -should know how much it has been abus’d by the other parts of the body, -for if it did, it would be enough to put it into a pouting condition, -and make it open its sluice to the drowning of the low-countries in an -inundation of salt-water. I would advise you, Madam, with the small -remains of your squander’d fortune, to go into a nunnery, turn <i>Roman -Catholick</i>, which is the best religion in the universe, (for ladies of -your occupation, grow wonderful pious, and make a virtue of necessity) -and there remain till death, as a living testimony of the truth of the -old proverb, (<i>viz</i>) <i>That what is got over the devil’s back, is spent -under his belly</i>: which is all the consolation you deserve from your -sister in iniquity,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Nell Gwin</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="Peg_Hughess_Answer_to_Nell_Gwin"></a><span class="smcap">Peg Hughes</span>’<i>s Answer to</i> <span class="smcap">Nell Gwin</span>.</h2> - -<p><i>Madam</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> AM sorry a mistress of a king should degenerate so much from that -generosity which was always applauded as a virtue in us ladies, who, -like the industrious beaver, do our business with our tails; for a woman -of my quality to value money, looks mean and mercenary, and is becoming -no body but an unmerciful miser, or a common strumpet; should I have -plac’d an esteem upon the riches that was left me, the world might have -suppos’d it was for the greediness of gain, that made me yield my -favours; and what had I been better than Madam <i>James</i>, or Mrs. <i>Knight</i> -of <i>Drury-lane</i>; had I expos’d my honour for the lucre of base coin, and -sinned on for the sake only<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_203">{203}</a></span> of advantage. Beauty’s the reward of great -actions, and I generously bestow’d mine upon a prince that deserv’d it, -abstractly from the thoughts of interest, but rather to shew my -gratitude, in return of his noble passion for me; and since he had made -me the object of his affections, I resolved thro’ the true principle of -love to surrender the ultimate of my charms to make him happy: my -embraces was all he wanted, and the utmost I could give, and if a prince -would submit to take up with a player, I think on my side there was -honour enough, without interest, to induce me to a compliance. I know I -am old and past recovering an impair’d fortune, after the same manner -that I first got it; but then consider what a small matter is sufficient -to keep a superanuated grannum, past the pleasures of this life; warm -cloathing and a few sugar-sops, what else can an old woman want, that is -fit for nothing but to mumble over her prayers, or sit nodding in a -chimney-corner like an old cat, when her company becomes as nauseous to -all that are younger than herself, as a sober divine is to a prophane -libertine? What conversation need she have besides one maid to exercise -her lungs upon, and keep life’s bellows open? I am so far from repenting -the loss of my estate, that I look upon’t my glory, and the only piece -of carelesness I ever committed worth my boasting. It’s a pleasure to me -to behold the vicissitude of fortune, and see her snatch that out of my -hand, which before she had dropped into my mouth; besides, without a -taste of poverty there can be no true repentance, for I always observe, -affliction goes a great way in making a good christian. I have said my -prayers within these few months, as heartily as ever I neglected ’em, -and am often-times pleas’d I am grown poor, because it makes me the more -pious: every fifty guineas I now lose, makes me when I come home, read a -chapter in <i>Job</i>, and take his patience for my own example. The gold -that I thus fling away, puts me in mind how sinfully it was got, and to -that cause I ascribe the badness of my fortune. To be rich and godly, I -have found very difficult, but to be needy and religious, is the easiest -thing in the world, which inclines me to believe poverty and piety, are -as great companions as impudence and ignorance, or love and jealousy; so -that when I have lost all, perhaps I may<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_204">{204}</a></span> take care to save myself, -which will be much better, than like you to be damn’d with a full -pocket. It often makes me laugh to see hungry quality, craving -courtiers, as insatiate as the barren womb, how industrious they are to -add to their own estates by the ruin of an old fornicatrix, who can part -with her money as freely at one sport as she got it at another, and -therefore desires you will rest but as quietly under your damnation, as -she does under her losses, and she believes you will find yourself much -easier: So,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Farewel</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="From_Hugh_Peters_to_Daniel_Burgess_in_Rogue-lane"></a><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh Peters</span> <i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Daniel Burgess</span> <i>in</i> Rogue-lane.</h2> - -<p><i>Most Reverend Brother in iniquity</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span>F you don’t remember of your own knowledge, you can’t but have heard -from some of our grisly historians, that in the late times of confusion, -when the pious scoundrels of <i>England</i> arose with their arses uppermost, -I was not a man inferior in my function to your learned and most -eloquent self, or any other fanatick cackler of the holy law, by the -corruption of which (thro’ the spirit of nonsense, and grace of -blasphemy) our party has always supported the worst of causes in the -best of times; and be it known to you, brother doctor, for so I presume -to greet you, that I had not only the practical knack of moistning the -eyes of my congregation with the dreadful doctrine of predestination, -but could also dry up their tears with a spunge of comfort, and make ’em -laugh as heartily whenever I pleas’d, as a city-audience at a -<i>Smithfield</i>-comedy; in which most excellent and renown’d faculties, you -are the only modern chatterist, that I hear has since succeeded me, for -which reason, I am very desirous of corresponding with you after this -manner, till fate shall give us your good company in these territories, -to which (if our subterranean governor changes not his opinion) you need -not doubt of being heartily welcome.</p> - -<p>I am sensible news from another world to a man of curiosity, cannot but -be acceptable: I shall therefore proceed to give you some account how -our party (who are<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_205">{205}</a></span> very numerous) fare in these sultry dominions, -towards which I hope in a little time, you will set forward on your -journey.</p> - -<p>My quondam master <i>Oliver Cromwell</i>, of ever famous memory, to whom upon -earth, you must know, I was not only chaplain in ordinary, but as well -jester to his excellency, an honour which I hear most noblemen confer -upon the black robe, now good old house-keeping, and the party-colour’d -coat are quite thrown out of fashion: My master, I say, who in honour to -his <i>exit</i>, was fetch’d away out of the upper world in a whirlwind, and -conducted into these parts with all the solemnities of an usurper, was -establish’d in a notable post at his first admittance into <i>Pluto</i>’s -court, in which eminent employment (that like a faithful servant -follow’d him) I found him, to my great satisfaction. <i>Alecto</i>, one of -the furies, having taken a surfeit with over-flogging <i>Guido Vaux</i> -(which is a ceremony perform’d here in publick every fifth of -<i>November</i>) for discovering the <i>Gun-Powder-Treason-Plot</i>, and defeating -that notable design, which by the indefatigable industry of the most -skilful politicians on this side <i>Acheron</i>, was so hopefully projected: -and fearing some disorders should arise in our infernal common-wealth -for want of strict discipline, my old master <i>Oliver</i> was pitch’d on to -be deputy-firker to the sick beldam, and a scorpion-rod was accordingly -presented him, with all the usual ceremonies of so grand an instalment. -This news of his advancement was so terrible a conflict to the cavalier -part, who dreading the severity of his correction, petition’d <i>Pluto</i> to -remove him, but to no purpose; which insolence so inflam’d my cholerick -master, that his nose swell’d as big at the end as an apple-dumpling, -and look’d as fiery red (to the terror of those that came under his -lash) as if his magnificent gigg had been a living salamander, so that -wherever he met with a cavalier, he did so firk and jirk him, that -<i>Busby</i> was never a greater terror to a blockhead, or the <i>Bridewell</i> -flog-master to a night-walking strumpet, than he at this day to a -high-flyer or a Jacobite. Great regard has been shewn by his infernal -majesty, to all that in <i>forty eight</i> were members of the high court of -justice; some are made master and wardens of the devil’s mint, for the -coining of new sins; some commissioners of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_206">{206}</a></span> temptation-office; -others, barons of the diabolical stinkports; and particularly -sollicitor-general <i>Cook</i> is made lord-keeper of hell’s punishments; and -<i>Bradshaw</i> and <i>Ireton</i>, two of his imperial smuttiness’s -privy-counsellors: So that all the posts of honour and preferment in -these lower regions are in the hands of our party, hoping those of the -same kidney who live over our heads, enjoy the like advantages, as we -have heard below by a certain courier from <i>Amsterdam</i>, you are all -pretty firmly possess’d of.</p> - -<p>There lately arriv’d in these parts a certain woolen-draper out of -<i>Covent-Garden</i> parish, who being touch’d with a deep sense of -ingratitude, could not rest quietly in his whigwam, till he had made a -publick confession of a great indignity he had put upon Mrs. <i>Meg</i>’s -chaplain, by which he gave us to understand you were the worthy -gentleman he had most sordidly affronted; the manner of which he -declared with as much sorrow and concern for the action, as ever was -beheld in the face of a dying penitent, between the severity of a -halter, and decency of a night-cap, the substance of his report being to -this purpose; after he had fetch’d two or three deep sighs, as loud as -the puffs of a smith’s bellows: alas! says he, to you I speak, good -people, that are here about me, I was bless’d with a wife of such -singular piety in the other world, who rather than not hear that -reverend teacher of the gospel <i>D. B.</i> twice every <i>Sunday</i>, she would -cackle for a whole week, far worse than an old hen that has drop’d a -benefit to her owner; whilst I, like a true profligate suburbian, us’d -to confound her zeal, stop the current of her devotion, and damn her -hypocrisy; but the good woman was too strict a protestant to be thus -seduc’d, and still persever’d in spight of all restriction in her -accustomary righteousness, till at last I bethought myself the best way -to reclaim her from this disagreeable purity (for so I thought it) and -bring her over, like me her husband, to be a good sociable sinner, was -to keep a close guard over my pocket, and another over my till, well -considering, that if the flock could not live without spiritual -consolation, the shepherd could not spend his lungs without temporal -subsistence: After I had try’d this experiment for about a fortnight -before the time of contribution, when the hearts<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_207">{207}</a></span> of the hearers are -usually as open as their teacher’s conscience, I found my wife’s -extraordinary zeal had stirr’d up a tumultuous spirit within her, so -that nothing would pacify her stubborn disposition, but ten times the -price of a fat pig, to gratify the great benefits she had often receiv’d -from her soul-saving physician; but I, looking into the merits of the -cause, and finding other mens wives us’d to be sav’d, (or at least made -believe so) at a much cheaper rate, and therefore for good reasons best -known to myself, would by no means comply with her religious generosity; -upon which the good woman my wife, lest she should be thought an -ungrateful reprobate by her deserving guide, convey’d a present to the -worthy doctor of a whole piece of black cloth, without my knowledge, and -like a true lover of peace and quietness, conjured my apprentice to keep -it secret; but my man’s honesty being equal to my wife’s religion, in a -little time after, he inform’d me of the matter, upon which (forgive me -good people) I waited upon the doctor with a bill, and without any -tenderness to his piety, or regard to his function, gave him such a -tallyman’s dun, that he swore thro’ divinity, and deny’d the matter of -fact as sturdily as if he had been bred a citizen; yet at last, upon -positive proof thereof, paid the money like an honest gentleman, but -huff’d away as if the passion of envy had overcome the patience of the -priest. But since I find (most worthy gentlemen) that fate has doom’d me -to these sulphurous mansions, where the devil rules the roast, and -presbytery flourishes; I here, before the protector of this -commonwealth, and all his infernal host, submit myself to the present -government in hell establish’d, and heartily declare a penitential -sorrow for the indignity offer’d upon earth to that famous and most -spiritual kid-napper, who I cannot but acknowledge has contributed more -toward the peopling of these dominions, than the states of <i>Holland</i> -have ever done towards the peopling your neighbouring country the -<i>East-Indies</i>.</p> - -<p>But now, brother doctor, to make you sensible of the interest you have -in these parts, the audience (notwithstanding the offender’s submission) -were so highly inflam’d that so disgraceful an affront should be put -upon so worthy a benefactor to the <i>good old cause</i>, that some cry’d -out<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_208">{208}</a></span> with a true spirit of dissention, <i>Flay, flay the rogue, flay him -for a</i> cavalier, <i>what abuse the Doctor! Others, Scald him, scald him, -he’s a Church Papist: Others, Geld him, geld him, he’s certainly a -Priest</i>: But the women were against the last sentence, and cry’d the -devil had no law for that severity. So a great hurliburly arose about -the manner of his punishment; but at last the crowd hurry’d him away as -the rabble in your world do a pickpocket, to a pump, or a horse-pond, -and what became of him afterwards I have not yet heard.</p> - -<p>We have abundance of souls flock hither daily, that bring us in very -comfortable tidings from <i>Mincing-lane</i>, <i>Salters-hall</i>, -<i>Bishopsgate-street</i>, <i>Jewen-street</i>, <i>Moorfields</i>, <i>Bartholomew-close</i>, -<i>Fetter-lane</i>, <i>Stepney</i>, <i>Hackney</i>, <i>Bednal-green</i>, &c. but more -particularly from <i>Covent-Garden</i>; among whom, to your credit it be it -spoken, I have always pick’d out the most agreeable conversation: for -you must know, a little before I absented myself from the pleasures of -the upper world, ’twas my fortune to be haul’d before a dozen of damn’d -crabbed <i>cavaliers</i>, revengeful fellows, who look’d as if they would -lose a dinner to hang an honest round-head at any time; and as three or -four tun-belly’d lumps of gravity, in blushing formalities, lin’d with -coney-skins, and those twelve unlucky disciples order’d the matter (to -show they were all fire and tow) they told me a dreadful story of -hanging and burning at <i>Charing-Cross</i>, in sight of that old palace we -before had plunder’d. About which ugly sort of business, when I came to -find they were in good earnest, I began to grow as, dizzy in my brains, -as a hog troubled with the megrims, and could no more endure the -thoughts on’t than I could of <i>Popery</i>; on my dying day, I strove all I -could to make it easy, but I protest it was in vain, for it prov’d still -as hateful to me, as castration to a priest, or barrenness to a young -woman: in short, at last it made me think of nothing but rattling of -chains, and picking of straws, insomuch that when they fagotted up my -thumbs together, and tumbled me into a hell-cart well litter’d with -straw, but the devil a wheel to’t, I did but just shut my eyes, and -fancy’d myself to be in a dark room in <i>Bedlam</i>. In this manner they -rumbled me thro’ a long lane of spectators, who star’d at me as if I had -been a <i>rhinoceros</i> with a <i>Bantam</i> queen upon my back;<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_209">{209}</a></span> at last they -dragg’d me into an ill-favour’d piece of timber, in the shape of a welch -sign-post, where they tuck’d me up to a beam, and made me keck a little, -as if something had gone the wrong way; upon which I fell into a kind of -a hag-ridden slubber for a quarter of an hour, dreaming I sunk a -thousand leagues into the bowels of the earth, and no sooner awak’d, but -found myself, as I told you before, in company with my old master: my -sleep prov’d much too short for the recovery of my senses, and tho’ I -saw several of my old friends about me, the pain of my neck, and terror -of my fall, made me rave worse than a narrow-scutted punk under the -hands of a mad-midwife; till by the advice of a consult of physicians, -who are here as numerous as <i>crocodiles</i> in the land of <i>Egypt</i>; a -vesicatory of devil’s-dung was apply’d to my <i>costern</i>, which restor’d -me to my wits in a few minutes, which in the time of adversity, like -ungovernable rebels, had abdicated their master. But that which most -troubled me when I found myself <i>compos mentis</i>, was the circular -impression the hempen collar had left about my gullet, by which the -fellow-subjects discover’d I swung into hell the back way, for which -reason some prodigal <i>jack-a-dandies</i> refus’d to keep me company, -despising me as much as a butcher does a bull-dog, that instead of -running fair at the head, catches hold of the tail, and hangs at the -arse of his enemy; for you must know, doctor, the most reputable way of -entring into this sub-terrestial country, is to come in at the -fore-door, thro’ which none are admitted but such as spend their full -time in wickedness in the upper world without flinching: nay be as proud -of a notorious sin, as a jockey is of his riding that has won a -horse-race, and glory more in the invention of a new vice, than a coward -does of a victory, till at last, by the effects of his debaucheries, -pox, gout and rheumatism, he is lifted out of your world into ours, -without one thought of repentance. These are highly rewarded here for -the glorious examples they have left behind them; but he that comes -hither like a dog, with the print of a collar about his neck, is no more -respected than a prophet in his own country; the reason is, because they -who pass gallows-way into these shades, generally at their <i>exit</i>, show -a sorrow for their sins; so that if heaven did not take their contrition -for a kind of death-bed repentance the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_210">{210}</a></span> devil would be a great loser; -besides, they soften the hearts of sinners by their sniveling and -howling, and deter others from the like wickedness. These considerations -occasion the tyburnians to be very much slighted by other company: but -I, thro’ good fortune, by that time I had been here a fortnight, met -with a good honest shoemaker, who had cut his throat in a garret in -<i>Russel-street</i>, upon the point of <i>Predestination</i>, which he had heard -you handling of for three hours together the very same afternoon, before -he could find in his heart to perform the decent execution. Upon serious -examination, I found the fellow talk’d very notably of religion; nay, -much better than he did of a shoe-soal, or an upper-leather; he had such -an assurance of his parts, as to challenge <i>Bunyan</i> the tinker to chop -logick with him; and <i>Naylor</i> the quaker, who was of a principle between -both, was thought the best qualify’d person in all hell for an impartial -moderator; but your nimble chopp’d pupil was as much too cunning for the -<i>Pilgrim</i> author, as a fox is for a badger, that at last the shoemaker -got his ends, and left the poor tinker without one argument in his -budget. By the assistance of this honest cordwainer, (who hearing I had -been a minister of the gospel in the other world, was mighty respectful -to me) I got acquainted with several others, who had been of your -congregation; some old women, who had hang’d themselves in their -garters, thro’ fear the lord had not elected them: others, who had -waited for a call to heaven till their last dram of patience, as well as -their patrimony, were quite exhausted, the first in religious exercises, -and the last in holy offerings to you their teacher; and finding very -little come of either, they resolv’d the king shou’d lose a poor -subject, and yourself a pious communicant; and so by the judicious -application of either knife or halter, convey’d themselves thro’ death -to these infernal shades, which they always liv’d in dread of, but not -finding the climate so terribly hot on this side <i>Styx</i>, as you have -often represented it, they rest well satisfy’d in their conditions, and -all heartily present their humble service to you, hoping with myself, -you will always stick close to your old doctrine, and labour hard to -support and infuse into your followers, the true enthusiastick -principles of <i>Fanaticism</i>, and you need not question but to wallow in -the pleasures<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_211">{211}</a></span> of human life whilst above board, and be doubly damn’d -hereafter among us for the signal services you have done to the sable -protector of these populous territories, which can never want recruits, -whilst there is a <i>Burgess</i> in the upper world, and a <i>Lucifer</i> in the -lower one.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Hugh Peters.</span><br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="Daniel_Burgesss_Answer_to_Hugh_Peters"></a><span class="smcap">Daniel Burgess</span>’<i>s Answer to</i> <span class="smcap">Hugh Peters</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> Receiv’d your insolent epistle with no small dissatisfaction, and had -you not inform’d me, I should have guess’d it came from hell, and that -none but the devil, besides yourself, could have digitis’d a pen after -so scurrillous a manner: how I came to be your brother, as you are -pleas’d very sawcily to call me, I can’t tell, for thou wer’t no more -than a meer pulpit merry-andrew, fit only to jest poor ignorant wenches -out of their bodkins and thimbles, and I, <i>Daniel Burgess</i> am known -thro’ all <i>England</i> to be a reverend teacher of the good word the -gospel, and a saver of souls by the means of grace, and the help of -mercy.</p> - -<p>’Tis true, I cannot but acknowledge that you were a serviceable agent in -the promotion of the <i>good old cause</i>; but when you came to die a martyr -for it, the whimsical fear of damnation so disturb’d your fly-blown -brains, that a dog hang’d by a cleanly housewife for dropping a -sirreverence in a room new wash’d, or a cat condemn’d to the same -punishment for licking up the childrens milk, were never certainly such -a scandal to a halter, as thy frantick self. When like a true teacher of -spiritual dissention, thou should’st have glory’d in all the past -actions of thy life, that had the least tendency to the pulling down of -that papistical government, that whore of <i>Babylon</i>, monarchy, and -setting up in its stead, that wholesome and inseparable twins, -presbytery and a commonwealth; you hasten’d on your own damnation by -foolish fear and cowardly repentance, and shew’d fifty times more -distraction than a horn-mad cuckold, that had catch’d his wife playing -at flipflap with her tail like a live flownder in a frying-pan.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_212">{212}</a></span></p> - -<p>As for that woolen jack-a-dandy, that fed his family by the product of a -sheeps-back, that unrighteous tell-tail rogue, that us’d to curse his -wife for being godly, if ever you will do me a piece of good service in -your damnable country, I beg you to entreat <i>Lucifer</i> on my behalf, to -freeze him once a day into a cake of ice, and then thaw him without -mercy, in one of his hottest hell-kettles; or let him be flogg’d three -times a day by your old master, worse than <i>Titus Oates</i>, or brother -<i>Johnson</i>, for he’s as rank a cavalier as ever had the impudence to spit -in a round-head’s face, or speak treason against the rump-parliament; -and tell him, tho’ he made me pay for the cloth, given me as a just -reward of my pastoral care of his wife’s immortality, yet she had the -christian gratitude, to make me doubly amends before a fortnight was -expir’d; but how the donor came by the benefit she bestow’d, I thought -was a little ungrateful for the receiver to enquire into, and unbecoming -a minister of the word, bearing my figure and character.</p> - -<p>As for the sorry wretches you mention, who by the virtue and efficacy of -my doctrine, took a by-path into the other world, that happen’d to lead -’em into your territories: I must tell you, they were such a parcel of -scoundrels, whose diminutive souls I look’d upon to be meer trumpery, -damag’d goods, not worthy their freight, fit for nothing but to be -thrown over-board; poor tatter’d scraps of immortality crouded into -skins, each of less value than a hog’s-pudding. <i>Lucifer</i> himself, I’m -sure, should he wage new war with heaven, would not have given -three-pence a-piece to have lifted them into his service, they would not -have been fit for so much as powder-monkeys, to have handed fire and -brimstone after the army; for my part, I wonder now you have got ’em, -how you bestow ’em, or what use the devil can put ’em to; I protest when -they were living upon earth, I found them such needy communicants, I -thought them fitter to be confin’d within the narrow limits of some old -alms-house for subsistance, there to read and practise Mr. <i>Tryon</i>’s -water-gruel directory, and enjoy the charitable income of -three-half-pence a day, settled by some old rogue who had cheated the -world of thousands, and hopes to make an atonement by starving perhaps -twenty old wo<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_213">{213}</a></span>men every year in his little row of charity pigeon-holes, -endow’d with nine-pence <i>per</i> week, and a thimbleful of coals; as if -providing a miserable life for one person, was a sufficient recompence -for cheating another: I say, they were fitter to be made close tenants -to some such bountiful nest of drawers, than to come like a parcel of -thread-bare zealots into a meeting, like bullies into a tavern, without -a penny of money in their pockets, and disturb people of good fashion -and credit, zealous benefactors to their guide, in the height of their -devotion, an intolerable grievance to a pious congregation, that pay -well for the assurance of salvation: and if we did not sometimes by the -frightful doctrine of <i>non-election</i> and <i>damnation</i>, make these -ragamuffin reprobates take up the knife of dispair, and clear the garden -of the righteous from those rascally poor weeds who are always sucking -juice from the more valuable plants, in a little time the fruitful soil -would be so over-run with docks and nettles, that there would be no -living for the gardner, whose profits must arise from the products of -those trees laden with rich fruit, which for yielding plentifully in due -season, become more worthy of his care.</p> - -<p>This is the case, and therefore who can blame me for my doctrine, if it -should be a means of making two or three garetteers, and as many -cellar-divers, by the help of twisted-hemp, or cold iron, forward their -journies to the lord knows whither, the world has the less to provide -for, and those that are gone have, according to the opinion of our -fore-fathers, nothing to care for? So to tell you the truth on’t, I am -never without a score of such communicants to spare, and if they were -all to be with you before night, I should think it a very comfortable -riddance.</p> - -<p>I am sorry I have not so much time to abuse you as I could heartily wish -I had, for you cannot but be sensible how much you have deserv’d it, and -how well qualified I am for such an undertaking, if I had but leisure to -exert my talent; and why we of the same function should treat one -another scurvily, would be no wonder, because two of a trade can never -agree; however I shall reserve my fury till another opportunity, being -just now invited to a supper by a devout communicant, whose husband’s in -the country, and I am sure she will have provided something<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_214">{214}</a></span> worth my -nibbling at, which I scorn to lose the benefit of for a piece of -revenge: so farewel,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">D. Burgess</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="Ludlow_the_Regicide_to_the_Calves-Head_Club"></a><span class="smcap">Ludlow</span> <i>the</i> Regicide <i>to the</i> Calves-Head Club.</h2> - -<p><i>Most diabolical Sons of Darkness</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">O</span>F all the villainies perpetrated upon earth, that the greatest rebel -could be proud of, or <i>Lucifer</i> blush at, I myself hid so large a share -in, that the devil for my hearty sincerity, and trusty management -therein, gives me the right-hand, dignify’d and distinguish’d me with -the superb title of his elder brother: no man ever gloried more in -wickedness than myself, and that which now makes my punishment a -pleasure, is to think how nobly I deserved it. Many I know are the -treasonable plots and contrivances transacted in the upper world, but -never was any magnificent piece of wickedness, or superlative deed of -devilism, ever performed with more ostentation and alacrity, than that -most impious and audacious act, in which I was so highly concerned, and -that the very monarch of hell might have been proud to have had a hand -in; to fire churches, commit sacrilege, ravish virgins, murder infants, -or spit in the faces of our parents, are trifling sins that a man of my -figure in iniquity would be asham’d to be caught in; but to murder the -best of princes, and glory in the deed, is such an infernal evil that -hell can’t blacken, or earth can’t parallel; a sacred piece of villany -becoming only the treachery of a puritan to execute, and the pen and -principles of a <i>Tutchin</i> to endeavour to justify.</p> - -<p><i>Lucifer</i> and all his kingdom of hob-gobblins, drink a health to your -society every thirtieth of <i>January</i>, in burnt brandy, and are well -assur’d the interest of these infernal territories can never sink, as -long as there is a <i>Calves-Head Club</i> upon earth, to glory in the -remembrance of the worst of villianies; and a whiggish society of -reformation, for the better establishment of hypocrisy. We, who had the -honour to be his majesty’s judges, or rather as some<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_215">{215}</a></span> call us, -<i>Regicides</i>, are all mess’d together in an apartment by ourselves, and -the murderers of <i>Henry</i> III. and <i>Henry</i> IV. of <i>France</i> are appointed -to attend us at our table; and Felton that stabb’d the duke of -<i>Buckingham</i>, is our lacquey to run of errands.</p> - -<p>In all <i>Lucifer</i>’s extensive dominions, there is not one society so much -respected as ourselves, and the greatest villains that ever were upon -earth, are by the devil, when they come here, scarce thought wicked -enough to wait upon us in the most servile station; the very jesuits -themselves known by all the world to value royal blood no more than a -<i>Jew</i> does a hog’s-pudding, are not suffer’d to walk within an hundred -yards of us; nay, the very dissenting shepherds of that rebellious -flock, who always follow’d me as their only bell-weather, are not here -thought worthy of our conversation, only now and then a member of our -sanctify’d society the <i>Calves-Head Club</i>, drops headlong in among us, -and <i>Old Nic</i> indeed appoints them to grind mustard and scrape horse -radish for us his well-beloved brethren the <i>Regicides</i>; for you must -know ’tis the custom in this sweating climate, for people to deal much -in very hot sauces, and that most delicate palate-scorching soop called -pepper-pot, a kind of devil’s broth much eat in the <i>West-Indies</i>, is -always the first dish brought to our table.</p> - -<p>All hell applauds you mightily for your zeal and integrity for the <i>good -old cause</i>, and your cordial approbation of the great effects thereof, -which you annually show upon every thirtieth of <i>January</i> that -derisionary festival, which you keep like the bold sons of confusion, -that the true spirit of rebellion may never die, and the dreadful -consequences of a damnable reformation may never be forgotten, in which -most notable, audacious and courageous piece of insolence, you not only -declare yourselves the brave defenders of all king-killing principles, -but plainly discover your undaunted souls are ready upon all occasions -of the like nature, to solemnly engage in the most startling mischief -that hell’s most politick <i>Divan</i> are willing to contrive, or a body of -the most resolute infidels in the universe able to perpetrate? this do I -speak to your eternal reputation, that <i>Lucifer</i> and all his sable -legions have publickly acknowledged their pride and malice, are much<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_216">{216}</a></span> -out-done by your private assembly, and the expertest devils among all -the infernal host, turn pale with envy, and degenerate from their -blackness to see their impudence outbrazen’d by a club of mortal -puritans? so that I would advise you as a friend, when death, by virtue -of his uncontroulable <i>Habeas Corpus</i>, shall remove you to these dusky -confines, you will put on a little modesty, tho’ you play the hypocrite, -least if you behave yourselves here as you do in the upper world, you -shall dash the devil out of countenance.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>So farewel.</i><br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="An_Answer_by_the_Calves-Head_Club_to_Ludlow_the_Regicide"></a><i>An Answer by the</i> Calves-Head Club, <i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Ludlow</span> <i>the</i> Regicide.</h2> - -<p><i>Most Noble Colonel</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">W</span>E receiv’d your letter, wherein your hatred to kings is discernable in -your stile; you scorn, like ourselves, the flattery of a courtier, and -write to your friends in the rough language of a bold soldier, that did -not only dare to uncrown, but to unhead a monarch, to advance the -authority of the good people of <i>England</i> above sovereign domination, -and free them from the bridle of the laws, which are no more in our -opinion than a politick restraint upon their natural freedom, an act -worthy of so indefatigable a patriot, who would leave no stone unturn’d, -that the wrong side of every thing might be rais’d uppermost, and that -those who had long against their wills been brought under a compulsive -subjection, might once have an opportunity of trampling upon that -ambition to which they were once slaves, and of raising up their -groveling snouts above that aspiring head, which for many ages had -oppress’d millions of mankind by the dint of power eclips’d their native -liberty, and crushed them into a slavish obedience.</p> - -<p>What ass in the universe would not kick at his master, if he was sure he -could knock his head off, and shake off that burthen beneath which he -groans, if he was not such a coward to be fearful of a greater? -Rebellion is always sanctifyed if it succeeds well, and the end -propos’d, obtain’d with safety, always gives glory to the atchieve<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_217">{217}</a></span>ment. -Authority is only obey’d, because ’tis fear’d; and if once trodden under -foot, nothing appears so despicable, as he that mounts a resty steed is -counted a good horseman, if he tames the beast; but if the stubborn -courser throws his rider, he falls a laughing stock to the glad -spectators.</p> - -<p>You seem to be truly sensible how much we glory in that act, which ought -to be as much your pride, as it is our satisfaction: we reverence the -valiant arm that did the deed, and daily signalize our gratitude to the -pious memory of those illustrious heroes, who by their undaunted -magnanimity brought their unparallell’d undertakings to a hopeful issue, -and left behind them such a glorious example, which we shall never -neglect to imitate when ourselves have opportunity. We have long hoped -for the lucky minute, wherein we might shew the world the strength of -our resolutions, and the constancy of our principles, and make those -cowardly slaves know, who pretend an abhorrence to your past bravery, -that we are the cocks, when we dare crow, that will make the lion -tremble; we have at all times when we meet, an ax hung up in our -club-room, in <i>pia memoria</i> of your sacred action: but had we the true -weapon, as much as we hate popery, we should turn idolaters, and worship -it much more than <i>Roman Catholicks</i> do their pictures. We have every -thirtieth of <i>January</i> a <i>calves-head feast</i>, in contempt of that head -which fell a glorious sacrifice to your justice, over which we drink to -the pious memory of <i>Oliver Cromwell</i>; confusion to monarchy; to the -downfal of episcopacy; a health to every noble regicide, and to the -universal propagation of all king-killing principles; and if these are -not meritorious formalities, and decent observances, we know not how to -oblige our honest brethren, who are co-habitants with you at such a -distance beneath us.</p> - -<p>To be accounted rebels and bold villains, does not in any measure make -us uneasy; for the believing ourselves otherwise, is a compleat -satisfaction to ballance their envy that so think us; besides the -pleasure we find in accounting them fools, slaves and cowards, is really -more to us than a sufficient recompence: so that by our vilifying our -opposites, we deny them opportunity ever to be even with us. The author -of the dialogue between <i>Vassal</i><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_218">{218}</a></span> and <i>Freeman</i>, is our secretary; you -guess’d his name very right in your letter, and a notable fellow he is -either in verse or prose, for the justification of our principles; and -is such a desperate tongue-stabbing hero at <i>pro</i> and <i>con</i>, that he -clears the house of all people wherever he comes, but those of his own -kidney; he vindicates all the proceedings of the <i>High Court of -Justice</i>, with such admirable obstinacy and impudence, that the best -lawyer in <i>Westminster-hall</i> is not able to cope with him, and justifies -the bringing of a king to a scaffold, when the people dislike his -stewardship, with so much insolence and arrogance, and drags him to a -block, as you would a bear to a stake, with so much decency, that had he -liv’d in the happy days when you erected a <i>High Court of Justice</i>, he -would have been the fittest man in the universe for two posts under you; -<i>First</i>, To have been attorney-general, and then executioner, and would, -I am confident, have so strenuously exerted himself in both offices, -that he would have gained a double reputation with our godly party. -<i>First</i>, For the discharge of the one with the utmost malignancy. And, -<i>Secondly</i>, For the dispatch of the other without disguise; for I dare -be confident, he has assurance enough to go through-stitch with any -thing that the world calls villainy, if we but think it virtue without -the fear of shame, or dread of punishment: indeed, had our growing -principles at this day but such another champion to defend ’em, I do not -question but in a few years we might bring matters to bear, and by -downright dint of our own weapon, <i>calumny</i>, make way to play the old -game over again, to a far better purpose than has been yet effected. -With the great hopes of which we take leave at present, desiring your -brother <i>Lucifer</i> upon all occasions to lend us his assistance. So we -subscribe ourselves both his and your</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Humble Servants</i>,<br /> -<br /> -J.T. S.B. J.S. <i>&c.</i><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_219">{219}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a id="From_J_Naylor_to_his_Friends_at_the_Bull_and_Mouth"></a><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">J. Naylor</span>, <i>to his</i> Friends <i>at the</i> Bull <i>and</i> Mouth.</h2> - -<p><i>Friends and Brethren in the Spirit</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">Y</span>OU who are the true transcript of the people originally call’d -<i>Quakers</i>, may perhaps expect, that I <i>James Naylor</i> in the dark, should -commend my hearty love to you my friends in the light, in such like -manner as the spirit us’d to dictate to me upon earth, before I -unhappily fell under this wonderful transfiguration, which I now am -appointed to maintain thro’ the whole course of eternity.</p> - -<p>I had no sooner set footing into this deep abyss of midnight, to which -the sun, moon and stars are as great strangers, as frost and snow are to -the country of <i>Ethiopia</i>, but a parcel of black spiritual janizaries -saluted me as intimately as if I had been resident in these parts during -the term of an apprenticeship; at last up comes a swindging lusty, -over-grown, austre devil, arm’d with an ugly weapon like a country dung -fork, looking as sharp about the eyes as a <i>Woodstreet</i> officer, and -seem’d to deport himself after such a manner, that discovered he had an -ascendency over the rest of the immortal negroes, and, as I imagin’d, so -’twas quickly evident; for as soon as he espied me leering between the -diminutive slabbering-bib, and the extensive brims of my cony-wool -umbrella, he chucks me under the chin with his ugly toad-colour’d paw, -that stunk as bad of brimstone as a card-match new lighted, crying, How -now, honest <i>James</i>, I am glad to see thee on this side the river -<i>Styx</i>, prithee hold up thy beard, and don’t be asham’d, thou art not -the first quaker by many thousands that has sworn allegiance to my -government; besides, thou hast been one of my best benefactors upon -earth, and now thou shalt see like a grateful devil, I’ll reward thee -accordingly: I thank your excellency kindly, said I, pray what is it -your infernal protectorship will be pleas’d to confer upon me? To which -his mighty ugliness reply’d, friend <i>Naylor</i>, I know thou hast been very -industrious to make many people fools in the upper world, which has -highly conduc’d to my interest. Then turning to a pigmy aërial, who -attended his commands as a run<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_220">{220}</a></span>ning footman; haste, <i>Numps</i>, says he, -and fetch me the painted coat, which was no sooner brought, but, by -<i>Lucifer</i>’s command, I was shov’d into it neck and shoulders, by half a -dozen smutty <i>valets de chambre</i>, and in a minute’s time found my self -trick’d up in a rainbow-colour’d coat, like a merry-andrew. Now, friend, -says the ill-favour’d prince of all the hell-born scoundrels, for the -many fools you have made above, I now ordain you mine below; so all the -reward, truly, of my great services, was to be made <i>Lucifer</i>’s jester, -or fool in ordinary to the devil: a pretty post, thought I, for a man of -my principles, that from a quaker in the other world, I should be -metamorphosed into a jack-adams in the lower one. I could not but think -it a strange kind of mutation, and knew no more how to behave myself in -my gaudy-colour’d robes, than if I had been damn’d, and cramm’d into a -tortoise-shell, and must have walk’d about hell upon all fours with a -house upon my back.</p> - -<p>In a little time after this new dignity was conferr’d upon me, the devil -happen’d to make a splendid entertainment for all the souls in his -dominion, who in the upper world had been profess’d Quakers, where I, -quoth the fool, was ordered to give my attendance for the diversion of -the company, but found myself so strangely disappointed when I beheld -the guests, that had I been messed in <i>Noah</i>’s ark among lyons, bears, -and alligators, I could not have been more amaz’d than I was at the -unexpected appearance and deportment of such a confus’d assembly: my -master <i>Lucifer</i>, and <i>Ramsey</i> the jesuit at his right hand, sat at the -upper end of the table, and the rest of the scrambling company were -seated like so many hungry mechanicks at a corporation-feast; but -instead of their conversation being <i>Yea</i> and <i>Nay</i>, there never was -heard such swearing and cursing at a publick gaming-table, nor all the -points of copulation more lewdly discuss’d at a bawdy-house; blasphemy -was the modestest of their talk, and there I came in with ’em for a -fool’s share, and exerted my talent to the approbation and applause of -the whole society.</p> - -<p>Observing such a wonderful change in these our infernal friends, from -what they appeared to be in the upper world, made my curiosity itch -mightily to know the rea<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_221">{221}</a></span>son of this surprising alteration; upon which, -said I, prithee <i>Lucifer</i>, in plain words, (for we fools you must know -may say any thing to our masters) what is the meaning that these people -who were <i>quondam</i> quakers when upon <i>terra firma</i>, should turn such -debauch’d libertines in these lower regions, and from the most religious -and precise of all hypocritical heaven-servers, to become the most -degenerate reprobates in all your damnable dominions? I’ll tell you, -says <i>Lucifer</i>, the reason; always those that pretended to the greatest -purity in the other world, put on the cloak of religion, not to save -their souls but to hide their vices, as some women wear masks, not to -preserve their beauty, but to hide their ugliness; and when that veil is -taken away which obscur’d the sinfulness of their natures, or when -opportunity gives them leave to be wicked without damage to their -interest (as they may here) you see how loose and wanton the most -zealous of both sexes will be, notwithstanding all the external promises -of piety and vertue. These words, tho’ they came from the father of -lies, yet their satirical force gave me such a stab in the conscience, -that had my label of mortality been stung by a wasp or a hornet, it -could not have griev’d the outward man more, than this diabolical saying -did the inward; and knowing by experience it savour’d of a little truth, -I thought I could do no more than communicate his answer to you my -friends, who are lovers of verity, from whence you may discern with half -an eye, that <i>Satan</i> understands you as well as he does the college of -<i>Jesuits</i>, or a <i>Dutch</i> conventicle, and if you take not timely care, -will certainly prove too cunning for you.</p> - -<p>Perhaps you will think me a very imperfect intelligencer, to tell you of -a feast, and give you no account of the provisions, or what sort food -the devil in his sultry dominions entertains his friends withal; -therefore in the next place I shall venture to give you a bill of fare, -that you may know at present what you may expect hereafter, lest -otherwise I should leave your curiosities unsatisfied, and keep you -ignorant of those avernous dainties by which immortality is here -subsisted.</p> - -<p>The first course consisted of a huge platterful of scorpions -spits-cock’d, a fricassee of young salamanders, a bailiff’s rump -roasted, baisted with its own dung, and a cock phœ<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_222">{222}</a></span>nix scalded in his -feathers, smother’d with melted soap and boil’d arsnick; these were -gross, substantial meats, design’d chiefly for keen appetites. The -second course contain’d six dozen of <i>West-India</i> gwanas roasted in -their own shells, a dish of squab-hickaries poach’d, a brace of flying -dragons stew’d in their own blood, and a dish of shovel-nos’d sharks -fry’d with a leviathan in the middle, toss’d up with what’s as good for -a sow as a pancake; these were dainties that could not but be acceptable -to the most squeamish stomachs; but now for rarities that must please -the gust of an emperor. The third and last course consisted of such -spiritual nutriment, that the nicest palated soul on this side the -adamantine gates, without a surfeit, might subsist on to all eternity, -which was serv’d up to the table, in much greater order than any of the -foregoing part of the entertainment. In the first place, a dish of -metaphysical curds, swimming in the cream of eloquence, was brought to -the upper end of the table, by a devil in a long gown, upon which piece -of cookery <i>Lucifer</i> and the <i>Jesuit</i> fed very heartily. In the next -place a dish of pickl’d enthusiasms well pepper’d with obstinancy, and -cover’d with the vinegar of dissention, was handed to the board by a -meagre-fac’d devil in a little band and long cloak, which by abundance -of the company was highly approv’d on. The third dish was a mess of -melancholy humdrums, mix’d with sobs and sighs, and garnish’d round with -blasphemy and nonsense, serv’d up with a she devil in <i>querpo-hood</i> and -green apron, which the whole assembly in general commended, and devour’d -as greedily as a gang of <i>Welsh</i> drovers would do a mess of -leek-porridge, or a dish of cows bubby. When every soul had fed -plentifully, and refresh’d his immortality with a chearful dose of -spirit of sulphur, I, quoth the fool, for the jest’s sake, was appointed -to say grace after meat; and when I had discharg’d the office of a -chaplain, as comical as I could, the guests stagger’d away like so many -fluster’d long tails from a <i>Kentish</i> feast, and so the solemnity was -ended.</p> - -<p>I have little more news to communicate from these parts, only that -within these few months, we have had five or six thousand diabolical -spirits, return’d from their embassies in the upper world, who were many -years since commanded thither by prince <i>Lucifer</i>, to the assistance and -further<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_223">{223}</a></span> establishment of our party and opinion, and had every one of -them possess’d themselves of good quarters, and lay snug in the bosoms -of our sanctified friends, but reported when they came back, that an old -trout-back apostate, who lately fell from quakerism to the church, -arming himself cap-a-pee with the armour of truth, took up the sword of -the gospel, and by downright dint of scripture and sound reason, made so -large a conquest over <i>Satan</i>’s subjects, that the devils were forc’d to -quit their possessions, and leave great numbers of our friends to the -mercy of G——d and their ecclesiastical enemies; but fresh recruits -are daily sent among you from these infernal territories, hoping in a -little time to recover our lost interest.</p> - -<p>I would have troubled you a little further, but that <i>Lucifer</i> being put -in a merry mood by the pleasing news of your <i>European Differences</i>, has -order’d all his jesters to be in waiting, and you know, all princes upon -publick rejoycings at court, must have their fools as well as knaves, to -attend ’em: so farewel.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">J. Naylor.</span><br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="The_Quakers_Answer_to_James_Naylor"></a><i>The</i> Quakers <i>Answer to</i> <span class="smcap">James Naylor</span>.</h2> - -<p><i>James Naylor</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>HY friends are all very much afflicted to hear that <i>Satan</i> the father -of the wicked, has laid violent hands upon thee, and has drawn thee out -of the light into the land of utter darkness; if the dross of the world, -that ungodly mammon, which tempts the unwary often into the sins of the -flesh and many other iniquities, would redeem thee from thy woful -prison, where nothing is to be heard but weeping, wailing and gnashing -of teeth, we would lend thee our assistance with all our hearts; but the -spirit within us has declar’d the truth, and told us, that thy -unmerciful jaylor will take no bribe or bail, and that the debt thou art -in for, the world cannot pay, and therefore we all fear thou art -trapann’d into a loathsome gaol from whence there is no redemption. We -thought the many persecutions thou underwent’st for the l—d’s sake in -this world, (<i>viz.</i>) as peeping thro’ the yoak of infamy, and losing thy -two members of attention. <i>Secondly</i>, for hug<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_224">{224}</a></span>ging the vagabonds -land-mark against the will of the spirit, and undergoing the rod of -correction. And, <i>Thirdly</i>, for suffering the clack of the spirit to be -bored thro’ with a hot wimble, for warranting thyself to be the true son -of thy father, would have been merits sufficient to have rais’d thee -upon the pinnacle of mount <i>Sion</i>, and there to have fixed thee as a -standing evidence of the truth to all eternity; but since the spirit -within thee prov’d a lying spirit, that extinguished the light, and led -thee like a blind guide into the dark ways of destruction; we that were -the followers of thy false glimmerings, must forsake the errors, and -seek the lord by a more perfect illumination, for the false fading -<i>jack-a-lanthorn</i> which thou leftest among us, is burn’d into the -socket, and now stinks in the nostrils of the righteous, far worse than -the dying snuff of a cotton-candle; besides, what spiritual pilgrim in -his progress to the land of the living, would follow a wicked -<i>Will-with-a-wisp</i>, who has led a friend before into dark ways, and -there left him to grope among the filthiness of sin and pricks of -conscience to all eternity? no, if we follow thy ways, we shall err like -stray’d sheep, and be pounded by <i>Satan</i> for wand’ring into the paths of -the wicked.</p> - -<p>That the father of lies, upon thy first entrance into his wicked -habitation, should put thee into a fool’s jacket, we do not much wonder, -for the painted marks of folly are <i>Satan’s</i> gay livery, with which he -cloaths his wicked servants in this world as well as in his dominions; -for didst thou ever behold on earth the sons of darkness, who follow the -lust of the flesh, and delight in those pomps and vanities which the -inward man forbids our frail natures to pursue, but they always were -distinguish’d by some gaudy badge, which discovered their pride, or -other infirmities? do not the high-priests of <i>Baal</i> wear lawn -coversluts, and their head journeymen red pokes upon their backs? do not -flatterers of princes wear badges on their breasts, and adorn their -spindle-shanks with glittering gimcracks? do not their lazy slaves wear -blue and yellow, that the world may know whose fools they are? do not -the blessers of their food wear silken ornaments dangling from their -proud necks to their ancles, that the publick may mistake them to be -wiser than their neighbours? do not the captains of the host hoop their -loins with golden sashes, and stick<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_225">{225}</a></span> feathers in their caps to fright -their foes with their finery? do not judges wear gowns of a crimson die, -and the great men of the law wear the skull-caps of knavery, with the -edges tipp’d with innocence, to deceive the vulgar? do not physicians -ride in coaches with the weapons of destruction ty’d dangling at their -arses, as it they were hurrying on a full trot to kill and not recover -their patients? do not haughty vintners hypocritically tye on their blue -ensigns of humility, to cozen their customers into an opinion of their -lowliness? do not whoremongers and adulterers thatch their empty noddles -with whole thickets of whores-hair? and do not wanton women wear turrets -on their heads, and cover their tails with the bowels of the silk-worms? -do not drunkards wear red noses, knaves hawks eyes, and liars impudent -faces? in short, friend <i>Naylor</i>, most people upon earth have some badge -or other of <i>Satan</i>’s livery; even kings themselves wear purple, and the -whores of <i>Babylon</i> scarlet; therefore our friends are all of one -opinion, that since thou departed’st so far from the light, as to suffer -wicked <i>Satan</i> to decoy thee into his trapsoul of eternal darkness, he -has done thee but justice to put thee into a fool’s coat, that every -time thou art thoughtful of thy miserable confinement, thou may’st look -upon thy party-coloured livery, and cry with a pitiful voice, alas, what -a fool am I! which is all the comfort thy friends who are sorrowful for -thy condition, are able to administer unto thee at this immensurable -distance.</p> - -<p>We are very glad to here that <i>Satan</i> is no niggard in his family, but -like a generous host, provides so plentiful a table for his numerous -guests: we thy Friends upon earth, have taken his infernal food into our -serious consideration, and have resolv’d, <i>nemine contradicente</i>, to -lead a starving life upon earth, rather than enter his palace-gate to be -beholden to him for a dinner. We shew’d thy bill of fare to our friend -<i>Roberts</i>, at the <i>White hart</i> in <i>Chancery-lane</i>, approv’d by the -wicked men of the law, who love to profane their stomachs with fine -feeding, to be as nice a gratifier of luxurious palates as ever handled -ladle; and he declareth for truth, by the motion of the spirit, that -tho’ he has often roasted a cod’s-head larded with bacon without tying -it upon the spit, boil’d a pound of butter stuff’d with anchovies -without melting it, grillia<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_226">{226}</a></span>do’d jelly of harts-horn without dissolving -it, fry’d a jackboot into incomparable tripe, stew’d pebble-stones till -they have become as soft as stew’d prunes, and has made good savoury -sauce with an addled egg and kitchin-stuff, yet he acknowledges himself -wholly ignorant how to dress any one dish thou hast mentioned in the -catalogue of thy dainties, and therefore desires thou wilt do him the -friendly kindness to acquaint us in the next letter, what sort of cook -<i>Satan</i> has got in his kitchin; and if he be a friend, whether thou -think’st our friend <i>Coquus</i>’s wife mayn’t be admitted as his scullion, -in case she would become a servant in thy master’s family, for she is -grown so peevish, he is willing to part with her. So hoping thou wilt -give us an account the next opportunity, we rest thy, <i>Loving Friends</i>.</p> - -<h2><a id="From_Lilly_to_Cooley_the_Almanack-maker_in_Baldwins-Gardens"></a>From <span class="smcap">Lilly</span> to <span class="smcap">Cooley</span> the <i>Almanack-maker</i> in Baldwin’s-Gardens.</h2> - -<p><i>My dear old bottle-friend and companion</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">E</span><i>VER since I took a trip into this lower world, and left you (by the -help of Moon-groaping and Star-fumbling) to project almanacks, predict -prodigies, and conjure up lost spoons, stoln good, and stray’d cattle, I -have had no opportunity of paying my respects to you, till now, for ’tis -so abominably up hill from our world to yours, that none but the devil -himself is able to climb it, he being forced to creep upon all-four, -like a squirrel up a nut-tree, all the way of his journey; and had I -sent a letter by his cloven-footed worship, I was fearful you would not -have thought him, at your years, a proper messenger. I hear, since I -left you, you are grown as grey as a badger, and that you are approv’d -by all cook-maids, porters-wives and basket-women, to be the most -eminent bodkin and thimble-hunter of all the</i> Ptolemeans <i>in the town, -and by the help of the twelve heavenly houses and their seven twinkling -inhabitants, not only undertake, but make wonderful discoveries. -Flat-caps and blue-aprons, I hear haunt your door every morning, as -hawkers do a publisher’s, or journeymen-taylors a</i> Smithfield <i>cook’s at -noon, some for a sixpenny, and some a twelvepenny slice of your -Astrological judgment, of which, to show your honesty to the world, you -give them such lumping pennyworths, that you<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_227">{227}</a></span> have made the noble -science of Heaven-peeping as cheap to the publick, as boil’d tripe in</i> -Fee-lane, <i>or bak’d sheeps-head in your own element</i> Baldwin’s-gardens. -<i>I am joyful to hear you are grown so great a proficient in the -celestial gimcracks; but indeed, when I first knew you a joyner at</i> -Oxford, <i>that us’d to make cedar cases for close-stool pans, I thought -you as ingenious a mechanick in your way, as he that invented a -mouse-trap or a nut-cracker, but little thought then, you would have -laid down the plane and the hand-saw, of which you were an absolute -master, to take up</i> Albumazar’<i>s weapons, the celestial globe and -compasses, to which you were a mere stranger: but however, Astrology -being a kind of liberal science all men I know are free to dive into the -mystery, from the whimsey headed scholar, to the strolling tinker; -therefore your leather-apron and glue-pot are no disparagement to your -pursuit of the seven wandring informers, any more than it is a scandal -to a mountebank to be first a fool, and then a travelling physician</i>. -Gadbury <i>we know was no more than a country botcher, before he was -admitted as a tenant into the twelve houses; and</i> Partridge <i>was no more -than a</i> London <i>cobler, before he was made running footman to the seven -planets; yet both these students in Astrology have arriv’d, I hear, to -as great an eminency in their heavenly profession, as ever was acquired -by the famed Dr.</i> Saffold, <i>or his successor</i> Case, <i>by long study and -experience, in the noble arts of Poetry and Physick. Therefore why may -not that spurious issue of a Carpenter call’d a Joiner, make as -legitimate an Astrologer, as profound a Conjurer, as infallible a -Fortune-teller, as the best of them; nay better, if he knows but to use -his tongue like a smoothing-plane, and can take down the roughness of -some peoples incredulity, then may he work them as he does his -deal-boards, till he has glu’d or nail’d them fast to his own interest. -These are the talents for which I hear you are famous above other -Astrologers, and that by downright dint of craft, pout and banter, you -have wheedled more money in your time out of chamber-maids, -cook-wenches, old bawds, midwives, nurses, and young strumpets, than -ever was got by the rug and leather, luck in a bag, or that in most -excellent juggle on the cards, call’d</i> preaching the parson: <i>nay if all -the gains that you have made of these three profitable inventions were -to be join’d together; besides a whole<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_228">{228}</a></span> mustard-pot full of -broad-pieces, a drudging-box full of guineas, a meal-tub full of crowns -and half crowns, and an old powdering-tub full of shillings and -sixpences, which lie parcel’d up in your own house, I hear that you have -several hundreds of pounds in the</i> Stationers <i>company, which, besides -the interest of the money, entitles you every year to four good dinners -in the hall, as many noddles full of rare claret, and four pockets full -of venison-pasty for your female deputy, who is said to be a notable -understrapper to you in the business of Astrology, and is of as much -service to you as a second to a merry-andrew, for without the one, the -other could do nothing</i>.</p> - -<p><i>I cannot but highly approve of the method I observe in your almanacks, -for since you write every year four</i>, i. e. <i>three in other persons -names, and one in your own, you have wisely projected a way to be -infallibly right in your predictions of the weather, which are commonly -varied under no more than four several denominations in any one of the -four seasons; so that by making your prognostications in every almanack -different, one must certainly tell right, and by keeping all four in -your pocket, which I am inform’d you have cunning enough to take care -of, by plucking out that which you know is agreeable and falls right, -declaring yourself to be the author, you gain reputation, and by this -juggle make some fools in your company believe that you have the stars -at more command, than a Haberdasher of dead bodies has his linkmen at a -funeral. This piece of cunning none of the celestial fraternity can -justly blame you for, every artist well knowing a juggler and an -astrologer are as inseperable companions as a bawd and a midwife, or a -lawyer and a knave, for either without the other, like an adjective -without a substantive, would be unable to stand by himself.</i></p> - -<p><i>Of all the almanacks that are extant, none are so valuable in these -subterranean regions as your own; few hawkers travel into these parts -but they bring whole baskets full along with them, and the cry of</i> -Cooley’<i>s almanack for two months in the year, is as universally bawl’d -about hell’s metropolis, as mackrel among you when they come to be six a -groat, or</i> Chichester <i>lobsters when they stink at midsummer. Of all -the</i> almanacks <i>brought among us, prince</i> Lucifer <i>gives yours the -preference and never goes without one in his pocket, to put him in mind -of an</i> Holy Rood <i>day, that his devilship<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_229">{229}</a></span> may not lose his nutting -time. Your last</i> English merlin <i>but one, wanted of the four cardinal -points, for which piece of forgetfulness, the devil in a great rage -cry’d he ow’d you a shame, and I was since inform’d, that one of our -infernal plenipotentiaries upon earth discharg’d his master’s promise in -a short time after, at the</i> Darby <i>alehouse in</i> Fulwood’s <i>rents; by the -same token, the liquor had so eclips’d your distinguishing faculties, -that instead of a tankard of warm ale, that stood by you, you took hold -of the candlestick, and in a drinking posture convey’d the lighted -candle to your mouth, the taste of which was so intolerable to your -lips, that you flung it away in a great passion, believing ’twas the -tankard of drink, and swore the bitch of a wench had made it so scalding -hot there was no drinking it. This unhappy accident occasion’d some -ill-natur’d people to reflect on you, and say, how should you know a -star from a kite-lanthorn, that could not distinguish between a tankard -of warm ale and a lighted candle?</i></p> - -<p><i>I have no news from these parts that can be welcome to a man of your -gravity and profession. As for astrologers, they are no more regarded in -this kingdom, than an honest man in your world, or a modest woman in a -theatre, for the best employment that most of them aspire to here, is to -carry a closestool-pan upon their back after a quack-doctor, which -savory receptacle being put in a square case, makes our fraternity look -like so many raree-show men loaded with their boxes of dancing baubles.</i></p> - -<p><i>I must confess, doctor</i> Saffold, <i>that famous student in physick, -poetry and astrology, whose verse was as good an emetick, as his pills -were a purge, being</i> Lucifer’<i>s peculiar favourite, was advanc’d to the -dignity of being flea catcher to his royal consort; but the other day -had like to have lost his place, by chasing one of his lady’s little -enemies into her</i> mount of Venus, <i>and beating the bush to start the -game, was so wonderfully pleas’d at the pastime, that the old fool could -not forbear laughing, which ill manners so inflam’d the infernal -duchess, that she vow’d, except he would down on his knees and kiss what -he laugh’d at, she would never forgive him; upon which the poor doctor -was forc’d to join beards, or else would have been turned out, to his -eternal shame as well as misery</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_230">{230}</a></span></p> - -<p>Albumazar <i>and</i> Ptolomy <i>are set up like the two loggerheads at St.</i> -Dunstan’<i>s church, and once in an hundred years they strike upon an huge -bell the number of the centuries from the fall of</i> Lucifer, <i>that the -devils and the damn’d may know how eternity passes; for you must -imagine, as a quarter of an hour is to the time of your world, so is an -hundred years to the eternity of ours, every watch goes here at least -ten thousand years with but one winding up, for their movements, like -our form and substance, are all spiritual, and the worst artist we have -among us, your</i> Fleetstreet Tompion <i>is but a mere blacksmith to; as for -my own part, I trudg’d for the first six months after Dr.</i> Ponteus, -<i>with a steeple-crown’d conveniency, as I mentioned before, but having -always such a stink of</i> devil’s-dung <i>in my nostrils, I petitioned for a -remove, and was admitted to be a yeoman of the bason to</i> Lucifer’<i>s -cloven-hoofs, to pick, wash, and refresh them after his return from -earth, which he visits very often for the preservation of his interest -in the upper world; and the worst inconveniency I find is, that his -worship’s feet smell worse after much walking than a sweating negro’s</i>.</p> - -<p><i>But, however, my old friend, let not this discourse discourage you from -venturing to come among us, or frighten you into a repentance of your -frauds and subtilties, that may carry you another way; for a man of your -merits, learn’d in Astrology from the very nose of the</i> great bear, <i>to -the extreme point of the</i> dragon’s tail, <i>and skilful in the -Mathematicks, from the mensuration of a surface to the most profound -nicety in solid Geometry, need not question, but that your old -acquaintance and assistant</i> Satan, <i>who has faithfully stood by you upon -all occasions, will bestow some reputable post upon you, answerable to -the gravity and skill of so understanding a wiseacre, to whom I -subscribe my self a loving friend and brother</i> Philomat.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Lilly.</span><br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="Cooleys_Answer_to_Lilly"></a><span class="smcap">Cooley</span>’<i>s Answer to</i> <span class="smcap">Lilly</span>.</h2> - -<p><i>SIR</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> <i>WOULD have you to know, I am not so far in my dotage, but I have -reason enough left plainly to discern I am very much affronted in your -ironical letter: as for my part, Mr. mean it as you please, I take it in -good earnest, for it is not<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_231">{231}</a></span> consistent with my temper and gravity at -these years, to like such unmannerly jesting. Time was, I was a young -fellow, that would have scolded with a butter-whore, box’d a carman, or -have scribled scurrilously with any</i> Lilly <i>in the universe; but, alas! -when a man has liv’d in this world to the age of near seventy, and has -had familiar conversation with all the foolish women in the town, -puzzled his brains with more angles, circles, squares, pentagons, -hexagons, heptagons, and parallellopipedons</i>, &c. <i>than ever has been -yet found in that most famous introduction to the mathematicks, call’d</i> -Euclid’s Gimcracks, <i>pour’d as much</i> Derby <i>ale thro’ his guts every -year as would have fill’d the great fatt at</i> Heidelburg, <i>and -metamorphosed as much tobacco into smoak every month, as would have put -a whole county into a mist; I think ’tis high time for a man to have -done with discord, and begin to compose himself into a little harmony; -therefore I take it ill you should attack me in my old age, especially -when you have Hell on your side, and the devil and all to help you</i>.</p> - -<p><i>What, tho’ I was a joiner at</i> Oxford, <i>and once to shew myself a good -workman, made a cedar close-stool case for the dean of</i> Christ-Church, -<i>I question not but one time or other for the excellency of its work, it -will be carried into the library, and be there preserv’d as a monument -of its maker’s glory to all succeeding ages, when you will have no -remains to put the world in mind of you, but your old conjuring -countenance, painted upon a sign, and hung up over</i> Black-friers -<i>gateway, subscribed with a little paultry poetry, fit for no body’s -reading but a parcel of country hobbies, who have left the plow and the -flayl, to come up to</i> London <i>to be cozen’d out of the fruits of their -labour. It is well known, I was born and educated in a learned air, and -tho’ a man be bred a cobler in that climate, he cannot help being a -scholar, if he but furnish’d with as much brains as will fill a -cockleshell. I confess, I have not had the honour to be entered of a -college, yet by my own chamber-study, without a tutor, having a good -natural genius, I could tell you how many parts of speech there were, by -that time I was eighteen years of age; and I will appeal to the world, -who may judge by my conversation, whether I have not made a wonderful -advancement within these 50 years, insomuch that you may see I dare -write</i> Philomath, <i>in the very title page of my almanack; and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_232">{232}</a></span> -therefore, Mr. am not to be banter’d at these years. You have the -confidence, in several parts of your letter to call me conjurer, tho’ I -must tell you, Mr. by the way, you are the first person that ever -thought me so. ’Tis true, I do sometimes when I am well paid for it, -erect a scheme in search of lost goods, or stray’d cattle, and do -presume</i> secundum artem, <i>to send the querent east, west, north, or -south, a mile or two distance from the loser’s house, to search within -six doors of the sign of the four-footed beast, and if they cannot find -the thief one way, I can send them as far another for a new fee; and all -this I can justify by the rules of Astrology as well as any man; but -must an artist for this be called a conjurer, and by a person too who -has been a professor of the same science? Indeed, old acquaintance, I -take it very unkindly, because you yourself must needs know we are -honest men that deserve no such character. As for my mistaking the -lighted candle for a tankard of hot ale, I remember nothing of the -matter; but</i> Bacchus <i>tho’ he be no planet, yet all men know he has a -great ascendency over us mortals, and what he might influence me to do, -when the light of reason, by which we see to distinguish, was eclipsed, -I know not; but I am morally sure, when my senses are about me I am not -easily to be so deceived; for I presume to know a pig from a dog, or the -difference between a Thing and cartwheel, as well as</i> Ptolomy <i>himself -were he now living</i>.</p> - -<p><i>You say, to my reputation, that my almanacks sell beyond any body’s in -your subterranean country, and that</i> Lucifer <i>himself is never without -one in his pocket: I am very glad to hear he is so much my friend, as to -give mine the preference, and for his civility intend to send him one -next year well gilt on the back, and bound up in calves-leather, by the -hand of some friend or other, that shall swim in</i> Derby <i>ale to the very -gates of his palace; such a wet soul that shall be as welcome as a -shower of rain to your drowthy dominions. The pleasing news you have -sent me is, that my works are so vendible in your parts, for I assure -you, upon your intelligence, I shall raise the price of my copy the next -year; for if my almanacks sell as well in hell as they do upon earth, I -am sure the company of</i> Stationers <i>must get the devil and all by them. -So I rest yours between enmity and friendship.</i></p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">H. Cooley.</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_233">{233}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a id="From_Tony_Lee_to_Cave_Underhill"></a><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Tony Lee</span> <i>to</i> <span class="smcap">Cave Underhill</span>.</h2> - -<p><i>Brother</i> Cave,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">C</span>Onsidering how often you have jested in the grave to please <i>Betterton</i> -prince of <i>Denmark</i>, I wonder the grave by this day has not been in -earnest with you, that in process of time, when the churchyard vermin -have feasted themselves upon your cadaver, your own scull may become a -jest to some other grave-digger. I must confess when I left you, you -were a sociable sort of a drunkard, and pretty little peddling sort of a -whoremaster, but I hear since, you have droop’d within a few years into -such a dispirited condition, that ’tis as much as a plentiful dose of -the best canary can do to remove the hyppocon for a few minutes, that -you may entertain your friends with a little of your comick humour, -grac’d with that agreeable smile that has always rendered what you say -delightful, and that it is not in the subtile power of intoxicating -<i>Nantz</i> to add new life to that decay’d member, which has in a manner -taken leave of this world before the rest of your body; you have so -often been used to a grave in your life-time, that I think you never -wanted a <i>memento mori</i> to put you in mind of mortality: death sure can -be no surprize to a merry mortal, who has so often jested with him upon -the stage, and and I long to hear when the grinning skeleton shall shake -you by the hand, and say, <i>Come, old duke</i> Trinculo, <i>thy last sands are -running, thy ultimate moment is at hand, and the worms are gaping for -thee</i>. What a jocular answer you will make to the thin-jaw’d -executioner, for every comedian ought to die with a jest in his mouth to -preserve his memory, for if he makes not the audience laugh as he goes -off the stage, he forfeits his character, and his fame dies with his -body; therefore I would advise you to set your wits on work to prepare -yourself, that as you have always liv’d by repeating other peoples wit, -you may not make your exit like a fool, but show you have some remains -of your own juvenile sparklings to oblige the world with at your last -minute.</p> - -<p>I hear the effects of your debaucheries are tumbled into your pedestals, -and make you walk with as much delibera<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_234">{234}</a></span>tion as Mr. <i>Cant</i> preaches; -when a man is once so founder’d by the iniquity of his life, that his -full speed is no faster than a snail’s gallop, and that his memory and -his members both equally fail him, it is full time that he was travell’d -to his journey’s end; for with what comfort can a man live in the world -when it is grown weary of him? young men I know look upon you as -superannuated, and had rather see a death’s-head and an hour-glass in -their company, than see you make wry faces at your rheumatick twitches, -or hear you banter upon your old gouty pains, and the past causes -thereof between jest and earnest. When a man once comes to answer a -bawdy question over the bottle silently, that is, with a feign’d simper -and a shake of the head, no body cares a fart for him, he is good for -nothing at those years, but, like <i>Solomon</i>’s proverbs, to let young men -foresee that worldly pleasures, when they come to be old, are but -<i>vanity and vexation of spirit</i>; and to stir up young women to despise -the impotency of old age, which their fumbling fathers in vain admonish -them to reverence. A young comedian is apt to make every body his jest; -but when arriv’d at your years, himself becomes a jest to every body. -Youth gives an air to wit that renders it delightful, but for an old man -to pretend to talk wisely, is like a musician’s endeavouring to fumble -out a fine sonata upon a wind-broach, tho’ the time be good, the -instrument is imperfect, and the organs want that sound which should -give a grace to the harmony. Some men at sixty, are apt to flatter -themselves in publick under the imbecilities of nature, and will -boastingly say, they can do every thing as well as they could at thirty; -but experienced women, who are the best judges of human decay, are too -sensible of their error, and, if modesty would give ’em leave, could -easily demonstrate the difference. I thank my stars, I knew not by -experience the winter of old age, but made my exit in the beginning of -my autumn; but yet I found what nature at midsummer esteem’d a pleasure, -was even then become a drudgery; and what used to be a refreshment to -life, was found but a slavish exercise to the body; therefore I heartily -pity your impotent condition, who has near twenty years surviv’d your -grand climateric, till thou art forc’d to crawl about the world with a -load of diseas’d flesh upon thy back, and art no less than a -sumpter<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_235">{235}</a></span>-horse to thy own infirmities. Methinks I see thee creeping upon -the surface of the earth, upon a feeble pair of gouty supporters, thy -loins swath’d up in flannel, leaning upon a crutch-head cane, and -bending towards thy mother earth, who catches thee at every stumble, -sometimes reflecting on the past pleasures of human life, and sometimes -looking forward with imperfect eyes, towards the doubtful state of -immortality, grinning as you walk at the gaiety of youth, and snarling -in thy thoughts at those delights the weakness of thy age has put thee -past enjoying; pursuing only that pleasure, which tho’ thy youth made -vicious, is in age become thy support; that is, the bottle, which in thy -younger days was oft made nauseous by excess; but wise experience now -has taught thee sure to make the darling comfortable by a seasonable -moderation: methinks I see thee use it now with caution, as if you hop’d -by every glass you drank, to strengthen nature’s union, and keep your -soul and body still from separation.</p> - -<p>The ghost of a comedian in these shades is but an useless piece of -immortality, for all the entertainments upon the stages of our infernal -theatres are very tragical, no smile, no merry looks, or monky gestures -us’d by your merry-andrews upon earth to provoke your listning audience -to a laughter, are fashionable in these parts. If you intend to come -among us, you must learn to howl, to grin, and gnash your teeth, unless -you can make yourself so compleat a philosopher as to laugh at your own -misery. Horror, darkness, and despair o’erspread the whole dominion, and -our tyrannical prince is never better pleas’d than when he sees his -subjects the most miserable. As for my part, as merry a representative -of some foolish plebeian as I was in the upper world, I cannot in these -melancholy grottos for the heart of me, frame so much as one chearful -conceit to mitigate those torments, which by virtue of our diabolical -laws are perpetually inflicted upon me: therefore those who betake -themselves to these regions ought to arm themselves with abundance of -resolution; for whoever flinches beneath their pains, do but encrease -their punishment, for which reason I advise you to consider what you -have to trust to, if your journey be downwards; and if you find it in -your power, to divert your coming hither with prayers and tears to -heaven, or else I must tell you<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_236">{236}</a></span> in good earnest, you may jest on as I -did, till you die and be damn’d like your humble servant,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Anthony Lee</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="Cave_Underhills_Answer_to_Tony_Lee"></a><span class="smcap">Cave Underhill</span>’<i>s Answer to</i> <span class="smcap">Tony Lee</span>.</h2> - -<p><i>Honest Friend</i> Tony,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">W</span>Hen I first read your letter, as merry as the world thinks me, I was -struck with such a terrible tremulation, that it was as much as three -gulps of my brandy-bottle could do to put my chill’d blood into its -regular motion; I had no sooner recover’d myself, but thinking of death -and the devil, which I had scarce done in sixty years before, I fell -into such an extravagant fit of praying, that if any body had heard me, -they would sooner have guess’d me, by the length of my devotion, to have -been a <i>Presbyterian</i> parson than duke <i>Trinculo</i> the comedian; it was -the first time that ever I found myself in earnest in my life, and I was -suddenly sensible of so vast a difference betwixt that and jesting, that -I believe for a whole hour together I was chang’d from an old comical -merry-andrew, into a new sorrowful penitent and was I to con over your -letter but once in a day, I believe it would go near to fright me into -abundance of religion, which we players, you are sensible, seldom or -never think on, except we are put in mind on’t by some extraordinary -accident; and the main reason I believe why we are not over-burthen’d -with zeal, is our drolling upon the clergy, by representing Mr. -<i>Spintext</i> the preacher, or Mr. <i>Lovelady</i> the chaplain, after a -ridiculous manner for the loose audience to laugh at; which we repeat so -often, till at last we are apt to fancy religion as well as the teachers -of it, to be really no more than what we make them, that is, a meer -jest, and worthy only to be smil’d at and not to be listen’d to.</p> - -<p>Certainly you have a very good intelligence in your world, of the -circumstances of us who dwell above you, or else you are the devil of a -guesser, for you seem in your letter, to have as true a sense of my -condition as if you were an eye-witness of it; for to tell you the truth -on it, I find all the members of my body in such a fumbling condition, -that I begin to think of a leap in the dark,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_237">{237}</a></span> and to wonder what in a -little time will become of me; the people are still pleas’d to see me -crawl upon the stage; indeed the shuffling pace that age and decay hath -brought me to, makes the audience as merry as if it were a counterfeit -gesture to provoke laughter; but, i’faith, brother <i>Tony</i>, that which -makes them glad makes me sad, insomuch, that my heart has aked every -time these five years, when I have play’d the sexton in <i>Hamlet</i>, for -fear when I am once got into the grave, the grim tyrant should give me a -turn over the perch, and keep me there for jesting with mortality.</p> - -<p>Nature, which finds herself declining in me, is so greedy of new breath, -that I gape as I crawl for the benefit of the fresh air, as if I was -jaw-fallen, and those humming insects that are a pestiferous calamity -this hot weather to all cooks-shops and sugar-bakers, are so unmannerly, -that they fly over those few palisadoes of my breathing-hole that are -left, and dung t’other side the pails, as if they took my mouth for a -house of office; nay, sometimes in creeping along the length of a -street, I have had my tongue so fly-blown, that had I not gone into a -tavern and wash’d them off with a pint of canary, I don’t know, but my -whole head might have been as full of maggots in a little time, as a -sheep’s arse at <i>Midsummer</i>.</p> - -<p>I find the greatest curse of my old age is, my desire surviving my -capacity, for I protest, my inclinations are as youthful as ever, tho’ -my ability is quite superannuated.</p> - -<p>I am just now entring into a fit of the gout, which so terrifies me, -that I pray one half minute, and curse the other, like a true bred -seaman in a storm, therefore am forc’d to break off, blood and wounds, -abruptly.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>So farewel</i>,<br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">Cave Underhill</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="From_Alderman_Blackwell_to_Sir_Charles_Duncombe"></a><i>From Alderman</i> <span class="smcap">Blackwell</span> <i>to Sir</i> <span class="smcap">Charles Duncombe</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">H</span>Earing what a noisy reputation you have acquir’d within the walls of -<i>England</i>’s metropolis, and what<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_238">{238}</a></span> a popular rumble your politick -generosity makes over the heads of us, out of whose ruins you have, true -citizen like, erected your own welfare, I could no longer forbear -putting you in mind of some of your former managements, left some -rakehelly rhime-tagger or other, should flatter you to believe you have -honesty and integrity enough to qualify you for a bishop; I took you a -meer bumkin, and taught you your trade for a basket of turky-eggs, and -therefore it highly concerns your prudence to consider the obligation -you lie under of carrying yourself to the world with all humility, tho’ -aspir’d to the very pinnacle of prosperity, since the first cause of -your advancement dropp’d out of the fundament of a turkey: the eggs, as -an argument of their being new laid, I remember were besmeared with -excrementitious tokens of good luck, which make me fancy, when I -received them, they were beshitten omens of your future fortune, in -whose behalf they were presented me.</p> - -<p>Birds have often shew’d their tenderness and compassion to mankind: -eagles have preserv’d infants in their nests, who have afterwards become -singularly prosperous in the ages they have liv’d in. <i>Sappho</i> rais’d -himself to the reputation of a God among the <i>Persians</i> by parrots, and -yourself to the grandeur of an alderman by your mother’s hen turkies: -for in all wonderful effects the leading cause ought to be reverenc’d -and respected.</p> - -<p>Nothing conduces more to the rise and riches of a citizen, than these -three qualifications; nor can a man be a compleat trader without them: -<i>First</i>, To be a hypocrite undiscernably: <i>Secondly</i>, A knave, and not -mistrusted: And <i>Thirdly</i>, To be diligent in all matters that concern -his own interest. These profitable talents I must needs confess you are -absolute master of, and managed them with that admirable cunning, that I -always conceiv’d a different opinion of you, till I had given it -irrevocably into your power to feather your own nest, by compleating of -my ruin; and like a true politician (I thank you) you made an excellent -use of the lucky opportunity: for when the vicissitude of fortune had -put my affairs in a little disorder, and I thought it best for the -safety of my person to take foreign sanctuary, what friendly protections -did you make, from the teeth outwards, of the faithful service<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_239">{239}</a></span> you -would do me in my absence, in order to compose and settle matters after -such a manner, that all the difficulties should be remov’d and made -easy, that had lessen’d my credit, and occasion’d me to withdraw? Upon -which, I being too forward to believe a person, I had rais’d from -sheep-skin breeches, and leathern shoe-ties, to the substance and -reputation of a topping citizen, could never forget the obligation he -lay under to do me justice, as to prove treacherous to his master, -trusted you alone with my whole effects, and the sole power of managing -my affairs according to your own discretion: but you, like a faithful -steward, when my back was turn’d, instead of endeavouring to support my -declining reputation, lessen’d my circumstances to my creditors far -beneath their real estimate, till you had bought up my notes to the sum -of a hundred thousand pounds, for an eighth part of their value, on your -own behalf, with the ready specie I had left you to compound my matters; -and like an honest man return’d them upon me at their full contents, -cheating my creditors of seven parts in eight of their due, sinking the -money to yourself, and leaving, like an ungrateful wretch, the kindest -of all masters to die a beggar; in this, I say, you shew’d yourself a -compleat citizen: <i>First</i>, A hypocrite in dissembling friendship to me: -<i>Secondly</i>, A knave, in cheating me and my creditors; And <i>Thirdly</i>, An -industrious man, in diligently converting so fair an opportunity so -foully to your own interest.</p> - -<p>Upon this basis (when downright knavery, according to the city phrase -was term’d outwitting) you rais’d a popular esteem to yourself for being -a wealthy man, and a cunning one, and as I have since heard, daily -improv’d your riches as honestly as you got it; and by changing broad -money into less, made your sums the larger: a pretty sort of a paradox, -that a man by diminution should raise an increase: but the deed was -darker than the saying, yet both very intelligible to money’d citizens -in the age you live in. It is no great wonder, if rightly consider’d, -that a man of your dealing should acquire such vast riches, since you -were so well belov’d by your under agents, that scarce a sessions pass -for seven years together, but one or other was hanged for the -propagation of your interest, whilst yourself stood secure behind a -bulwark of full bags,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_240">{240}</a></span> that skreen’d your person from the law, and your -reputation from the danger of common slander.</p> - -<p>Another fortunate opportunity you had of heaping more muck upon your -fertile possessions, and manuring those mighty sums you had before -collected, was the misfortunes of your prince, which largely contributed -(as you honestly order’d the matter) to your further prosperity. -Fourscore thousand pounds more added to your preceeding stock, was, -indeed, enough to make a reasonable man contented; but as nothing less -than the conquest of the whole world could satisfy the ambition of -<i>Alexander</i>; so nothing, I am apt to think, but the riches of the -universe, can quench the unbounded avarice of so aspiring a <i>Crœsus</i>. -But oh the disappointments that attend the proud and wealthy! what -signifies three hundred thousand pounds to an ambitious alderman, if he -cannot take a peaceable nod in his elbow-chair of state, and be -registered in the city-annals, lord-mayor of <i>London</i>, that posterity -may read <i>Duncombe</i> and his turkies were as much renowned in the age -they liv’d in, as <i>Whittington</i> and his cat? I am heartily sorry (since -fortune’s favours, and your own indefatigable knavery, have so happily -concurr’d to make you rich) that the electors of the city would not also -agree to make you honourable; and that your oracle of time, that publick -monument of your generosity, with your promise of a mansion-house for -the city-magistrate, and the twelve apostles to be elevated at the -east-end of St. <i>Paul</i>’s, will not all prevail upon the livery-men of -<i>London</i> to chuse you into the trust and dignity, which would very -highly become a person of your worth, honour, and integrity. But, as I -well remember, one of the eggs was rotten, which I have since reflected -on, and think it reasonable to judge, if there be any divination by -eggs, that it predicted your hopes would be addled in this very affair; -and do therefore advise you for the future, to decline all thoughts of -the mayoralty. I am very well pleas’d that you deal barefac’d to the -world in one particular, which is, that tho’ you keep a chaplain in your -house to feed your ears with a few minc’d instructions, yet you -entertain two mistresses publickly in your family, to reduce the -rebellious flesh into an orderly subjection; from whence your neighbours -may see, in matters of religion<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_241">{241}</a></span> you are no hypocrite, but openly do -that which more secret sinners would be asham’d to be caught in, who -perhaps are full as wicked, tho’ they hide their vices with a sanctify’d -coverslut, whilst you professing not much religion, scorn to make so ill -a use as a cloak, of that little you are bless’d with.</p> - -<p>I fear you are grown too bulky in estate to be long-liv’d in prosperity, -you are a well-fed fish to be caught nibbling at the bait, and abundance -of great men are angling for you; if you are once hamper’d by the hook, -you will not shake yourself off easily: and methinks it’s pity a man -that, I have some reason to say, has got an estate knavishly, should -ever run the hazard of losing it foolishly; but preserve it according to -the custom of the city, to build an alms-house after your decease, that -may maintain about the thousandth part of as many people when he is -dead, as he has cheated when he was living.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>So farewel</i>,<br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">Blackwell</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="The_Answer_to_Alderman_Blackwell"></a><i>The Answer to Alderman</i> <span class="smcap">Blackwell</span>.</h2> - -<p><i>SIR</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">W</span>HO would ever be a servant, if it were not for the hopes of being at -one time or other as good a man as his master? It’s the thoughts of -bettering our own conditions without danger, that makes a man submit -with patience to a servile subjection: but he that can govern his -master, will never truly obey him; and he that finds he can outwit him, -will be no longer his fool. Nature made us freemen alike, and gave us -the whole world to seek our fortunes in; and he that by either wit, -strength or industry, can straddle over the back of another, has the -riding him for his pains. If one man that is poor, worms a rich man out -of his estate, it is but changing condition with one another, and the -world in general is not a jot the worse for it: besides, in most mens -opinions, he best deserves an estate that has cunning enough to get one, -and wit enough to keep it when he has got it. I know no inju<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_242">{242}</a></span>stice but -what is punishable by the laws of the land; and if I can acquire an -estate, tho’ fifty men starve for it, that the laws will protect me in, -I think myself as rightfully possess’d as any man in the kingdom: he -that is bubbled out of an estate will certainly fall under the character -of a fool; and he that gets one will be as surely suspected for a knave; -no man enjoys the reputation of an honest man, but he who bribes the -world by courtesies into that opinion of him; and he who, like myself, -scorns to be at the charge of purchasing on’t, shall be sure never to -enjoy the character. Honesty and courage may be said to stand upon one -bottom, for all men would derogate from both, and be knaves and cowards -if they durst; for its the fear of being piss’d upon by every body, that -makes men fight soberly; and the fear of punishment that makes men live -honestly; yet a politick coward often passes for a brave man for want of -being try’d; and an arrant knave, for want of opportunity for a very -honest fellow.</p> - -<p>You blame me for building my own welfare out of your ruin, and charge me -with knavery for taking the advantage of your folly; I am of that old -opinion, that all mankind are either fools or knaves; and it is a maxim -in my politicks, that he who will not be a knave, the world will make a -fool of him. One man’s oversight is always another’s gain. How then can -you condemn me for laying hold of that opportunity, which your weakness -gave me as a tryal of my wit? and had I neglected making a true use of -it to my own advantage, I had made myself a greater fool than he who -trusted a single man’s honesty with so large a temptation. Could you -have kept your estate in your own power, how great was your indiscretion -to deliver it into mine? and since I found, when I had it in my custody, -I could secure it to myself, beyond the power of the law to recover it, -how foolish shou’d I have been to have omitted the opportunity? in -short, I am very well satisfyed at the usage I gave you, no check of -conscience do I yet find that inclines me to repentance; but am heartily -resolv’d, thro’ the course of my life, never to let slip so luscious an -advantage.</p> - -<p>As for my sorting of broad-money for the royal snippers, it was grown so -universal a practice among all dealers, that it ceas’d from being -thought criminal, and became a pro<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_243">{243}</a></span>fitable trade; and I never was so -lazy in my life, as to suffer any project to be on foot, wherein money -was to be got, but I always had a hand in’t. The <i>Hollanders</i> clipp’d it -openly in their shops, and pass’d it afterwards among us. And shall we -suffer a foreign nation to ingross that advantage to themselves, which -was doubtless rather the property of a true-born <i>Englishman</i> to enjoy? -no I am a true lover of my country, and do assert, it’s better to be -rogues among our selves, and cozen one another, than it is to be cheated -in our own way by a pack of knavish neighbours.</p> - -<p>As for my master king <i>James</i>, I dealt honestly by him as long as he -continued my customer; but truly when his credit was sunk, and he was -forc’d to take sanctuary in a foreign country, my conscience told me -’twas the safest way, even to serve my prince as I had done you my -master; for indeed, I could not reasonably think; providence flung so -many lucky hits in a man’s way for him to make no use of; besides, what -signifies cozening a king of a trifling sum of fourscore thousand pound, -when he was going into a country where every body knew he would be well -provided for? I consider’d it would do me more kindness by half; and -tho’ some of his friends blam’d me, yet I thought myself an honester man -by much, than those who stripp’d him of his sovereignty; for if it was a -sin to cheat him at all, then those who cheated him most were doubtless -the most wicked; and to deal with you like an old friend, without -dissimulation, as long as I can imagine there’s a man upon earth more -sinful than myself I have a conscience that can fling nothing in my -face, but what I can withstand boldly without blushing.</p> - -<p>You seem to highly reflect upon me for keeping two domestick -conveniences publickly in my family, as if a man of my grandeur should -abridge himself of those pleasures which every apprentice-boy has the -enjoyment of between the mistress and the maid, without stirring over -the threshold; and sure an Alderman in the city, a grave magistrate, a -man worth three hundred thousand pounds, need not be either afraid or -asham’d of being suspected guilty of that little sniveling sin practis’d -daily in every citizen’s house, from the very beds in the garret, down -to the stools in the kitchen. Why, at that rate you would muzzle ones -appetite, a man had better by half be a pres<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_244">{244}</a></span>byterian parson, and have -two or three pair of holy sisters to smuggle over every week, than to be -an alderman of the city of <i>London</i>, and have his carnal inclinations -priest-ridden with a curb-bridle.</p> - -<p>As for the fair promises I made to the city in order to have coaks’d -them to have chose me mayor, I design’d them only as alluring baits to -tempt the godly party over to my interest, and in the common hall it -took very good effect; but had I once got into the chair, I should have -shew’d them a trick like Sir <i>Timber Temple</i>, and have reduc’d my -mountain-promise into a mole-hill performance; which our cunning -fraternity mistrusting (for always set a knave to catch a knave) by a -piece of unpracticable subtilty they threw me out, when I thought myself -as cock-sure of the honour as a man is of a morsel he has got in his -mouth: but the city is so corrupted, that an honest church-man can put -no confidence in a parcel of knavish fanaticks, but he is sure to be -deceiv’d. Had the church party been strong enough to have brought me in, -I had then caught what I gap’d for, as sure as there’s a cuckhold in -<i>Guild-Hall</i> in the time of election: but knowing our court of wiseakers -was at that time under the ascendency of a whiggish planet, I was -fearful I should lose it; but they had better have chose me, for I -assure them, I would sooner go into <i>Barbary</i> and feed ostriches with my -money, than I would lay out one groat towards so much as the repairing -of one of their old gates, or in adding any thing to the city’s -magnificence, tho’ ’twas no more than a weather-cock: nay I have now so -little charity for that ingrateful <i>Sodom</i>, that I would not be at the -expence of giving them an engine, tho I was sure ’twould save them a -second conflagration.</p> - -<p>I fear, Sir, by this time I have quite tired your patience, and shall -therefore conclude with this acknowledgment, that I liv’d under one of -the best princes in the world, and one of the best masters in the -kingdom, and that under both, I thank my stars, I have patch’d up a -pretty good fortune, and I profess, as I am a christian of the true -church by law establish’d, I would turn subject to the <i>Grand Seignior</i>, -and servant to alderman <i>Lucifer</i>, to enjoy again two such precious -opportunities. <i>So I rest, with a quiet Conscience, your thankful -Servant</i>,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">Charles Duncombe</span>.<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_245">{245}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a id="From_Henry_Purcel_to_Dr_Blow"></a><i>From</i> <span class="smcap">Henry Purcel</span> <i>to Dr.</i> <span class="smcap">Blow</span>.</h2> - -<p><i>Dear Friend</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span>O tell you the truth, I send you this letter on purpose to undeceive -you; I know that the upper world has a notion, that these infernal -shades are destitute of all harmony, and delight in nothing but jarring, -discord, and confusion; upon the word of a musician, you are all -mistaken, for I never came into a merrier country, since I knew a whimsy -from a fiddle-stick; every body here sings as naturally as a -nightingale, and at least as sweet. Lovers sit perch’d upon bows by -pairs, like murmuring turtles in a rural grove, and in amorous ditties -sing forth their passionate affections; all people on this side the -adamantine gates have their organs perfect, and <i>I burn, I burn, I -burn</i>, which some persons thought a critical song upon earth, is here -sung by every scoundrel: the whole infernal territory is infested with -such innumerable crowds of poets and musicians, that a man can’t stir -twice his length, but he shall tread upon a new ballad; and as for -musick, ’tis so plenty amongst us, that a fellow shall be scraping upon -a fiddle at every garret-window, and another tinkling a spinet, or a -virginal, in every chimney-corner; flutes, hautboys and trumpets are so -perpetually tooting, that all the year round the whole dominion is like -a <i>Bartholomew-Fair</i>; and as for drums, you have a set of them under -every devil’s window, rattling and thumping like a consort of his -majesty’s rat-tat-too’s at an <i>English</i> wedding: we have such a glut of -all sorts of performers, that our very ears are surfeited; and any body -may hire a consort for a day, large enough to surround -<i>Westminster-Abbey</i>, for the price of an hundred of chesnuts; yet every -minstrel performs to admiration. Every cobler here that dispatches a -voluntary whilst he’s waxing his thread, shall out-sing Mr. <i>Abel</i>, and -a carpenter shall make better musick upon an empty cupboard strung with -five brass-wires, than <i>Baptist</i> can upon the harpsichord; every trumpet -that attends a botkin lottery, sounds better than <i>Shore</i>; and not a -porter here plies at the corner of a street, but with his stubbed -fingers, can make a smooth<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_246">{246}</a></span> table out grunt the harmony of a double -curtel. We have catches too in admirable perfection: Fish-women sit and -sing them at market, instead of scolding as they do at <i>Billingsgate</i>; -hymns and anthems are as frequent among us as among you of the upper -world; for to every church God Almighty has on earth, here the devil has -a chapel.</p> - -<p>You are sensible I was a great lover of musick before I departed my -temporal life, but now I am so surfeited with incessant sound, that I -would rather chuse to be as deaf as an adder, than be plagu’d with the -best <i>ayre</i> that ever <i>Corelli</i> made, or the finest <i>sola</i> or <i>sonata</i> -that ever was compos’d in <i>Italy</i>: for you must know the laws of this -country are such, that every man, for sins in the other world, shall -here be punish’d with excess of that which he there esteem’d most -pleasant and delightful. Lovers, that in your region would hang, or -drown, or run thro’ fire like a couple of salamanders for one another’s -company, are here coupled together like the twins <i>Castor</i> and <i>Pollux</i>, -pursuant to their own wishes upon earth, and have all the liberty they -can desire with one another, but must never be separated whilst eternity -endures. This sort of confinement, tho’ ’tis what they once coveted, -makes them so sick of one another in a little time, that they cry out, O -damnable slavery! O diabolical matrimony! and are always drawing two -several ways with all imaginable hatred, endeavouring, to break their -fetters, and pursue variety; thus every one is wedded to what they like -best, and yet every person’s desires teminate in their own misery, which -sufficiently shews there is no other justice to punish us for our -follies, than the objects of our own loose appetites and inclinations; -for that which we are apt to covet most when we are in the upper world, -generally, if obtain’d, proves our greatest unhappiness; therefore, -since experience would not teach us to bridle our inclinations on the -other side the grave, the pleasures we pursued when we were living, are, -after death, appointed to be our punishments.</p> - -<p>Dr. <i>Stag——s</i>, is greatly improved since he arrived in these parts, -and has more crotches flow thro’ his brains in one minute, than he can -digest into musick in a whole week; he had not been here a month, but -his bandy<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_247">{247}</a></span>legs stepp’d into a very good place, and his business is to -compose <i>Scotch</i> tunes for <i>Lucifer</i>’s bag-piper. Honest <i>Tom Farmer</i> -has taken such an antipathy against musick, upon hearing a <i>French</i> -barber play <i>Banister</i>’s ground in <i>Bmi</i>, upon a jews-trump, that he -swears that the hooping of a tub, and filing of a saw, makes the -sweetest harmony in christendom; <i>Robin Smith</i>, is still as love-mad as -ever he was; hangs half a dozen fiddles at his girdle, as the fellow -does coney-skins, and scours up and down hell, crying a <i>Reevs</i>, a -<i>Reevs</i>, as is the devil was in him. Poor <i>Val Redding</i> too, is quite -tired with his lyre-way-fiddle, and has betaken himself to be a -merry-andrew to a <i>Dutch</i> mountebank; and the reason he gave for it was -this, That he was got into a country where he found fools were more -respected than fiddlers. Dancing-masters are also as numerous in every -street, as posts in <i>Cheapside</i>, there is no walking but we must stumble -upon them; they are held here but in very slight esteem, for the gentry -call them leg-livers, and the mob from their mighty number, and their -nimbleness, call them the devil’s grass-hoppers. Players run up and down -muttering of old speeches, like so many madmen in their own soliloquies; -and if any beau wants a bridge to bear him over a dirty channel, a -player lies down instead of a plank, for him to walk over upon; the -reason why they were doom’d to that piece of scandalous servitude, was, -because they were as proud upon the stage as the very princes they -represented; and as humble in a brandy-shop, as a scold in a -ducking-stool; therefore were fit for nothing when they had done -playing, but to be trampled upon. I have nothing further at present to -impart to you, so begging you to excuse this trouble, <i>I rest</i>,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Your Humble Servant</i>,<br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">Henry Purcel</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="Dr_Blows_Answer_to_Henry_Purcel"></a><i>Dr.</i> <span class="smcap">Blow</span>’<i>s Answer to</i> <span class="smcap">Henry Purcel</span>.</h2> - -<p><i>Dear Friend</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">Y</span>OUR letter was one of the greatest surprises to me, I ever met with; -for after giving credit to that ful<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_248">{248}</a></span>some piece of flattery, stuck up by -some of your friends upon a pillar behind the organ, which you once were -master of, I remain’d satisfi’d you were gone to that happy place, where -your own harmony could only be exceeded, and had left order with some of -your friends to put up that epitaph only as a direction where your -acquaintance upon occasion might be sure to meet with you; but since you -have favour’d me with a letter from your own hand, wherein you assure me -’twas your fortune to travel a quite contrary road, I will always be of -opinion for the future, that when a man takes a step in the dark, those -that he leaves behind him can no more guess where he is gone, than I can -tell what’s become of the saddle which <i>Balaam</i> rid upon when his ass -spoke; for I find just as people please or displease us in this world, -we accordingly assign them a place of happiness or unhappiness in the -next, virtue shall be rewarded, and vice punished hereafter, ’tis true, -but when or how, I believe every man knows as well as the pope; -therefore, many people have blam’d the inscription of your marble, and -think it a presumption in the pen-man to be so very positive in matters, -which the wisest of mankind, without death, can come to no true -knowledge of. The fanaticks especially are very highly offended at it, -and say, It looks as if a man could toot himself to heaven upon the -whore of <i>Babylon</i>’s bag-pipes, and that religion consists only in the -true setting of a catch, or composing of a madrigal. I have had many a -bitter squabble with them in defence of your epitaph, upon which they -scoffingly advis’d me to get Monsieur <i>d’Urfey</i> to tag it with rhime, -then myself to garnish it with a tune, and so make it a catch in -imitation of <i>Under this stone lies Gabriel John</i>, &c. which unlucky -saying, so dum-founded me, that I was forc’d silently to submit, because -you had serv’d another person’s epitaph after the same manner.</p> - -<p>I have no novelties to entertain you with relating to either the <i>Abbey</i> -or St. <i>Paul</i>’s, for both the choirs continue just as wicked as they -were when you left them; some of them daily come reeking hot out of the -bawdy-house into the church; and others stagger out of a tavern to -afternoon prayers, and hick up over a little of the <i>Litany</i>, and so -back again. Old <i>Claret-face</i> beats time still upon<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_249">{249}</a></span> his cushion -stoutly, and sits growling under his purple canopy, a hearty -old-fashion’d base that deafens all about him. Beau <i>Bushy-whig</i> -preserves his voice to a miracle, charmes all the ladies over against -him with his handsome face; and all over head with his singing. Parson -<i>Punch</i> make a very good shift still, and lyricks over his part in an -anthem very handsomly. So much for the church, and now for the -play-houses, which are grown so abominably wicked since the pious -society have undertook to reform them, that not a member of the -fraternity will sit down to his dinner, till he has repeated over a -catalogue of curses upon the crew of sin-sucking hypocrites, as long as -a presbyterian grace, then falls to with a good appetite, and damns them -as heartily after dinner; nor will they bring a play upon the stage, -unless larded with half a dozen of luscious bawdy songs in contempt of -the reforming authority, some writ by Mr. <i>C</i>—— and set by your friend -Dr. <i>B</i>——; others writ by Mr. <i>D</i>——, and set by your friend Mr. -<i>E</i>——: you know men of our profession hang between the church and the -play-house, as <i>Mahomet</i>’s tomb does between the two load-stones, and -must equally incline to both, because by both we are equally supported.</p> - -<p>Religion is grown a stalking-horse to every bodies interest, and every -man chuses to be of that faith which he finds to be most profitable. Our -parochial-churches this hot weather are but indifferently fill’d, but -our cathedrals are still crowded as they us’d to be, because to one that -comes thither truly to serve God, fifty come purely to hear the musick; -the blessing of peace has again quite forsaken us, and the people tired -with being happy, have drawn the curse of war upon their own heads; and -the clergy, like true christians, confound their enemies heartily. Money -begins already to be as scarce as truth, honour and honesty; and a man -may walk from <i>Ludgate</i> to <i>Aldgate</i>, near high change-time, and not -meet a citizen with a full bag under his arm, or jot of plain-dealing in -his conscience. The ready specie lies all in the <i>Bank</i> and <i>Exchequer</i>, -and most traders estates lie in their pocket-books and their comb-cases: -paper goes current instead of cash, and pen and ink does us more service -than the mines in the <i>Indies</i>. I am very much in arrears upon the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_250">{250}</a></span> -account of my business, as well as the brethren of my quality; but -whether we shall be paid in this world or the next, we are none of us -yet certain. You made a timely step out of a troublesome world, could I -imagine you were got into a worse, I could easily pin my faith upon -impossibilities; but fare as you will, it cannot be long e’er I shall -give you my company, and discover the truth of that which our priests -talk so much of, and know so little:</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Till then I rest yours</i>,<br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">Blow</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="From_worthy_Mrs_Behn_the_Poetress_to_the_famous_Virgin_Actress"></a><i>From worthy Mrs.</i> <span class="smcap">Behn</span> <i>the Poetress, to the famous Virgin Actress</i>.</h2> - -<p><i>Madam</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> Vow to Gad, lady, of all the fair sex that ever occupied their -faculties upon the publick stage, I think your pretty self the only -miracle! for a woman to cloak the frailties of nature with such -admirable cunning as you have done hitherto, merits, in my opinion, the -wonder and applause of the whole kingdom! how many chaste <i>Diana</i>’s in -your station have lost their reputation before they have done any thing -to deserve it! but for a woman of your quality first to surrender her -honour, and afterwards preserve her character, shows a discreet -management beyond the policy of a statesman: your appearance upon the -stage puts the court-ladies to the blush, when they reflect that a -mercenary player should be more renown’d for her virtue, than all the -glorious train of fair spectators; who, like true women, hear your -praises whisper’d with regret, and behold your person with insupportable -envy. The <i>Roman</i> empress <i>Messalina</i> was never half so famous for her -lust, as you are for your chastity; nor the most christian king’s -favourite, madam <i>Maintenon</i>, more eminent for her parts, than you are -for your cunning; for nothing is a greater manifestation of a woman’s -conduct, than for her to be vicious without mistrust, and to gratify her -looser inclinations without discovery; at which sort of managements you -are an absolute artist, as since my de<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_251">{251}</a></span>parture I have made evident to -myself, by residing in those shades where the secrets of all are open; -for peeping by chance into the breast of your old acquaintance, where -his sins were as plainly scor’d as tavern-reckonings upon a bare-board; -there did I behold, among his numberless transgressions, your name -register’d so often in the black list, that fornication with madam -B—— came so often into the score, that it seem’d to me like a chorus at -the end of every stanza in an old ballad: besides had I wanted so -manifest a proof, as by chance I met with, experience has taught me to -judge of my own sex to a perfection, and I know the difference there is -between being really virtuous and only accounted so: I am sensible ’tis -as hard a matter for a pretty woman to keep herself honest in a theatre, -as ’tis for an apothecary to keep his treacle from the flies in hot -weather; for every libertine in the audience will be buzzing about her -honey-pot, and her virtue must defend itself by abundance of fly-flaps, -or those flesh-loving insects will soon blow upon her honour, and when -once she has had a maggot in her tail, all the pepper and salt in the -kingdom will scare keep her reputation from stinking; therefore that -which makes me admire your good housewifery, above all your sex, is, -that notwithstanding your powdering-tub, has been so often polluted, yet -you have kept your flesh in such credit and good order that the nicest -appetite in the town would be glad to make a meal of it.</p> - -<p>You must excuse me, <i>Madam</i>, that I am thus free with you, for you know -’tis the custom of our sex to take all manner of liberty with one -another, and to talk smuttily, and act waggishly when we are by -ourselves, tho’ we scarce dare listen to a merry tale in man’s company -for fear of being thought impudent. You know the bob-tail’d monster is a -censorious creature, and if we should not be cunning enough to cast a -mist before the eyes of their understanding sometimes there would be no -living among them; and therefore I cannot but highly commend you for -your prudence in covering all your vicious inclinations by an -hypocritical deportment: for how often have we heard men say, tho’ a -woman be a whore, yet they love she should carry herself modestly? that -is as much as to say, they love to be cheated, and you know, <i>Madam</i>, we -can hit<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_252">{252}</a></span> their humours in that particular to a hairs-breadth, and convey -one man away from under our petticoats to make room for another, with as -much dexterity as the <i>German</i> artist does his balls, that the keenest -eye in <i>Christendom</i> shall not discern the juggle, for a woman ought to -be made up of all chinks and crannies, that when a man searches for any -thing he should not find, she may shuffle about her secrets so, that the -devil can’t discover them, or else she’s fit only to make a sempstress -on, and can never be rightly qualified for intriguing. I have just now -the rememberance of a few female stratagems crept into my head, which -were practised by a pretty lady of my acquaintance, perhaps, <i>Madam</i>, if -they are not stale to you, you may make them of some service hereafter; -therefore in hopes of obliging you, I shall acquaint you with the -particulars.</p> - -<p>I happen’d long since in the time of my youth, when powerful nature -prompted me to delight in amorous adventures, to contract a friendship -with a fair lady, who for her wit and beauty, was often times solicited -by the male sex to help make up that beast of pleasure with two backs, -and hating to submit herself to the tyrannical government of a single -person, never wanted a whole parliament of nipples to give her suck, -tho’ she flatter’d one man that kept her, to believe he was sole monarch -of the <i>Low-Countries</i>; but one time he unfortunately happen’d to catch -her, with a new relation, of whom he was a little jealous, believing for -some reasons he had an underhand design of liquoring his boots for him, -to prevent which he impos’d an oath of abjuration upon his mistress, and -made her swear for the future to renounce the sight of him, which to -oblige her keeper, she very readily consented to, but no sooner was his -back turn’d, but she had invented a salve for her conscience, as well as -her concupiscence, and dispatching a letter to her new lover, told him -what had pass’d, but withal, encourag’d him to renew his visits at such -opportunities as she informed him were convenient; at the time appointed -her spark came, she received him with a blind compliment, and told him, -she would open any thing but her eyes to oblige him; but those she must -keep shut for her oath’s sake, having sworn never to see him if she -could help it. The gentleman was very well satisfied he had so -conscientious a lady to deal with: love,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_253">{253}</a></span> <i>Madam</i>, says he, is always -blind, and for my part, I shall be content to enjoy the darkest of your -favours; upon which he began vigorously to attack love’s fortress, which -you know, <i>Madam</i>, has no mere eyes than a beetle; as she told me the -story, he was beat off three times, and at last was forc’d to draw off -his forces, so march’d off to raise recruits against the next -opportunity. The next day came the governour of the garrison, as he -foolishly thought himself, and made a strict enquiry whether she had any -correspondence with the enemy? lord, Sir, says she, what do you take me -to be? a devil; as I hope to be sav’d, I never set eyes of him since you -engag’d me to the contrary: so all things past off as well as if no evil -had been acted.</p> - -<p>The next fresh acquaintance she contracted, she would never suffer to -wait upon her at her lodgings, other ways dress’d than in female -apparel; so when a new fit of jealousy put her spark upon purging her -conscience upon oath, as I have a soul to be sav’d, says she, no -creature in breeches but yourself has been near me since you had -knowledge of it; therefore why, my dear, should you harbour such ill -thoughts of a woman that loves you as dearly as I do my beads and -crucifix? thus, tho’ she deceiv’d him as often as she had opportunity, -yet her discretion kept all things in such admirable decorum, that I -never knew any of the fair sex, except yourself, like her.</p> - -<p>If it were not for these witty contrivances, subtle shifts and evasions, -which we are forc’d to use to keep the male sex easy, a pretty or an -ingenious woman, to make one happy must make twenty miserable; or wit -and beauty are never without abundance of admirers; and if such a woman -were to sacrifice all her charms to the miserly temper of one single -lover, the rest must run distracted, and at this rate the whole world in -a short time would become one great <i>Bedlam</i>; besides, since there is -enough to make all happy, if prudently dispens’d, I know no reason why -one man should engross more than he is able to deal with, and other men -want that, which by using there can be no miss of; therefore I commend -you for the liberty you take to oblige your chosen friends, and the -prudence you use to conceal it from the envious number you think -unworthy of your smiles; so with this advice I shall conclude,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_254">{254}</a></span> if you -have twenty gallants that taste your favours in their turns, let no man -know he has a rival-sharer in the happiness, but swear to every one -a-part, none enjoys you but himself; and by this means you will oblige -the whole herd, and make yourself easy in their numerous embraces.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<span class="smcap">A. Behn.</span><br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="The_Virgins_Answer_to_Mrs_Behn"></a><i>The Virgin’s Answer to Mrs.</i> <span class="smcap">Behn</span>.</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span>T is no great wonder to me you should prove so witty, since so many -sons of <i>Parnassus</i>, instead of climbing the <i>Heliconian</i> hill, should -stoop so low, as to make your <i>mount of Venus</i> the barren object of -their poetick fancies: I have heard some physicians say, the sweet -fornication draws mightily from the brain; for which reason, it is more -affected with the pleasure than any other part of the body; if so, how -could the spirit of poesy be otherwise than infus’d into you, since you -always gain’d by what the fraternity of the Muses lost in your embraces? -you were the young poets <i>Venus</i>; to you they paid their devotion as a -Goddess, and their first adventure, when they adjourn’d from the -university to the town, was to solicite your favours; and this advantage -you enjoy’d above the rest of your sex, that if a young student was but -once infected with a rhiming itch, you by a butter’d bun could make him -an establish’d poet at any time; for the contagion, like that of a worse -distemper, will run a great way, and be often strangely contracted. I -have heard a gentleman say, that when he was bedded with a poetess, or -rival’d a poet in his mistress, that he has dreamt of nothing but plays, -ballads and lampoons for six months after; and has been forc’d to -cuckold a critick, before he could get cur’d of the distemper. From -hence it appears, that a man in his sober senses runs a greater hazard -of his brains in having familiar contract with a daughter of the -<i>Muses</i>, than a drunken man does of his nobler parts, in paving the -common-shore of a town prostitute.</p> - -<p>You upbraid me with a great discovery you chanc’d to make, by peeping -into the breast of an old friend of mine; if you give yourself but the -trouble of examining an old<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_255">{255}</a></span> poet’s conscience, who went lately off the -stage, and now takes up his lodgings in your territories, and I don’t -question, but you’ll there find, Mrs. <i>Behn</i> writ as often in black -characters, and stands as thick in some places, as the names of the -generation of <i>Adam</i> in the first of <i>Genesis</i>. But oh! that I had but -one glance into your own accounts; there I am sure, should I find a -compleat register of all the poets of your standing, from the <i>Laureat</i>, -down to the <i>White-Fryars</i> ballad-monger: at this rate, well might you -be esteem’d a female wit, since the least return your versifying -admirers could make you for your favours, was, first to lend you their -assistance, and then oblige you with their applause: besides, how could -you do otherwise than produce some wit to the world, since you were so -often plough’d and sow’d by the kind husbandmen of <i>Apollo</i>? but give me -leave, <i>Madam</i>, to tell you, after all your amorous intrigues to please -the taglines of the age, and all the fatigue of your brains to oblige a -fickle audience, I never could yet hear that your reputation ever soar’d -above the character of a bawdy poetess; and these were the two knacks -you were chiefly happy in, one was to make libertines laugh, and the -other to make modest women blush; and had you happen’d to have liv’d in -a reforming age, under the lash of Mr. <i>C——r</i>, he would have so -firk’d you about the pig-market, that you must have learn’d to have writ -more modestly, or he would have been apt to have said, you certainly -thinn’d your ink with your own water, or you could never have writ so -bawdily.</p> - -<p>You seem almost to think it an indispensible difficulty for a woman in -my quality to preserve her reputation, especially if she has done any -thing to deserve the loss of it; I say, a prudent woman may do it with -all the facility imaginable, by keeping up to a few maxims in female -policy, which few woman are strangers to. <i>First</i>, Were I to give myself -liberty (as whether I do or no is no matter to any body) I would always -bestow my favours upon those above me, and those beneath me, and never -be concern’d with any man upon an equal footing; and these are my -reasons: Suppose the vitious eyes of a great man are fix’d upon me, and -my charms should kindle a love-passion in the cockles of his heart; he -writes, chatters, swears and prays, according to custom in such cases,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_256">{256}</a></span> -I still defend the premisses, by a flat verbal denial; but at the same -instant incourage him in my looks, and am always free to oblige him with -my company; till by this sort of usage I make him sensible downright -courtship will never prevail; and that the cittadel he besieges is not -to be surrender’d without bribing the governess: then he begins to mix -his fine words with fine presents; he gives, I receive, returning a side -glance for a diamond ring, two smiles for a gold watch, a kiss for a -pearle necklace, and at last for a round sum the ultimate of my favours; -of which, in one months time, he is as much tir’d, as a child is of a -<i>Bartholomew</i> knick-knack, and so we seperate again, both fully -satisfied: in this case, I say, a woman’s reputation is pretty safe; for -if he has any brains, he will be afraid to discover I have been his -bedfellow, lest I should tell the world he has been my bubble; for he -can’t help believing, if he had never been my fool, I had never been his -mistress.</p> - -<p>In the next place, why I would rather submit to make a friend of an -inferior, than an equal; I think these reasons are sufficient; if I -oblige a man beneath me, he looks upon my condescention to be his -greatest honour; and ’tis but now and then furnishing his pockets with a -little spending money, and he’ll drudge like a stone-horse to give me a -competent refreshment; not only that, but he’ll lie for me, swear for -me, fight for me, and be always speaking in praise of my virtues upon -every occasion; my mixing his pleasure with profit, makes it so much the -sweeter, and engages him to give my favours a more diligent attendance. -I can govern, comand, expect, and make him more my slave than a woman is -to her keeper; and he takes it to be his only happiness to be so. And -for my part, think there is more satisfaction in having a man that one -likes, in this sort of subjection, than there is in being courtezan to -any gouty peer in <i>Christendom</i>; for I have always had the same ambition -to be mistress over some of the male sex, as some of them have had to -make me their humble servant. These are the reasons why some ladies -submit themselves to the lash of the long whip, and love to be jerk’d by -their coach-man; and why lawyers wives join issue with their husbands -clerks; and shop-keepers help-mates court the benevolence of their -appren<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_257">{257}</a></span>tices: for a woman’s business is seldom done by a man that’s her -master; and I must frankly confess, were I to be a slave to the best -man’s lust in the kingdom, tho’ kept never so well for’t, if I had not a -man beneath me in the same classis. I should think my life but in a -miserable confinement; for there is no other pleasure in money got over -the devil’s back, but in spending it under his belly; besides, if a -woman’s reputation be safe in any man’s power, it must certainly be -secure in the custody of an inferior so oblig’d; for interest is the -best padlock in the world to confine a tongue to silence: but if you -make an equal your familiar, and no interest binding on either side, -upon every little disgust it shall be, confound you for a wh—re, what -made you disappoint me? d—mn you for a jilt, what spark were you -engag’d with? and this sort of usage, in a little time, a woman must -expect to be treated with; and ten to one, but at last expos’d; and this -is all the gratitude the poor loving fool shall meet with for her -kindness.</p> - -<p>Pray, <i>Madam</i>, tho’ I have been so free with you, as to deliver you my -sentiments, don’t you take me to be a person that ever put them into -practice; I only tell you, according to my present judgment, what I -believe I should do, was I under the same predicament with many ladies, -whom I see daily in the boxes; but I thank my stars, I had always more -modesty than to be lewd; and more generosity, than to be mercenary; and -have hitherto took care to preserve a virtuous reputation, -notwithstanding I know what I know; therefore I defy your conscience -peeping; besides, that was in another world; and when all comes to all, -I believe ’tis only a piece of your own romantick wit, and as such I -take it. <i>So farewel.</i></p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang"><i>From Madam</i> <span class="smcap">Creswell</span> <i>of</i> pious Memory, <i>to her Sister in -Iniquity</i> <span class="smcap">Moll Quarles</span> <i>of</i> Known Integrity.</p></div> - -<p><i>Dear Sister</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span>T is no little grief to me on this side the grave, to hear what a low -ebb the good old trade of basket-making is reduc’d to in the age you -live in; for I hear it is as much as<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_258">{258}</a></span> a woman of tolerable beauty, and -reasonable share of experience can well do, to keep clean smocks to her -back, and pay her surgeon; when in my time, praised be the l—rd for it, -I kept my family as neat and sweet, poor girls, as any alderman’s -daughters in the city of <i>London</i>. I don’t know what scandal our -profession may be dwindled into since my departure from the upper world; -but I am sure thro’ the course of my life, I was look’d upon by the -whole city to be as honest an old gentlewoman, as ever hazarded her soul -for the service of her country; and always took care to deal in as good -commodities, as any shopkeeper in <i>London</i> could desire to have the -handling of, true, wholesom country-ware; whole waggon-loads have I had -come up at a time, have dress’d them at my own expence, made them fit -for man’s use, and put them into a saleable condition. The clergy, I am -sure, were much beholden to me, for many a poor parson’s daughter have I -taken care on, bought her shifts to her back, put a trade into her -belly, taught her a pleasant livelihood, that she might support herself -like a woman, without being beholden to any body; who otherwise must -have turn’d drudge, waited upon some proud minx or other, or else have -depended upon relations; yet these unmannerly priests had the sinful -ingratitude before I dy’d, to refuse praying for me in their churches; -tho’ I dealt by all people with a conscience, and was so well beloved in -the parish I liv’d in, that the churchwardens themselves became my daily -customers.</p> - -<p>My home was always a sanctuary for distressed ladies; I never refus’d -meat, drink, washing, lodging, and cloaths, to any that had the least -spark of wit, youth, beauty, or gentility, to recommend them to my -charity; ladies women, chambermaids, cookmaids of any sort, when out of -service, were at all times welcome to my table, ’till they could better -provide for themselves; and I am sure, tho’ I say it that should not, I -kept as hospitable a house for all comers and goers, as any woman in -<i>England</i>; for the best of flesh was never wanting to delight the -appetites of both sexes; the toppingest shopkeepers in the city us’d now -and then to visit me for a good supper; and I never fail’d of having a -tid-bit ready for them; dainties that were hot and hot, never over-done, -but always with the gravy in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_259">{259}</a></span> them, which pleas’d them so wonderfully, -that they us’d to cry their own victuals at home was meer carrion to it; -nay, their very wives, sometimes, contrary to their own husbands -knowledge, have tripp’d in, in an evening, complain’d they have been as -hungry as hawks, and desired me to provide a morsel for them that might -satisfy their bellies; for you must know, both sexes were wonderful -lovers of my cookery, and would feed very heartily upon such nice -dainties that I toss’d up for them, when no other sort of flesh would by -any means go down with them. Many hopeful babes have been beholden to my -mansion-house for their generation; who tho’ they were never wise enough -to know their own father, yet some of them, for ought I know, may at -this day be aldermen; for I have had as good merchants ladies, as ever -liv’d in <i>Mincing-lane</i>, apply themselves to my fertile habitation for -change of diet; and have come twice or thrice a week to refresh nature -with my standing dishes; for I always kept an open house to feast -lovers; and, <i>Jove</i> be thanked, never wanted variety to gratify the -appetites of mankind. Thirty pair of haunches, both bucks and does, have -been wagging their scuts at one another within the compass of one -evening; and many noblemen, notwithstanding they had deer of their own, -us’d to come to my park for a bit of choice venison, for I never wanted -what was fat and good, tho’ within my pale it was all the year -rutting-time.</p> - -<p>It is well known, I kept as good orders in my house as ever was observed -in a nunnery; I had a church-bible always lay open upon my hall-table, -and had every room in my house furnish’d with the <i>Practice of Piety</i>, -and other good books for the edification of my family; that for every -minute they sinn’d, they might repent an hour at their leisure -intervals. I kept a chaplain in my house, and had prayers read twice a -day, as constantly as the sun rises in a morning, and sets in an -evening; and tho’ I say it, I had a parcel of as honest religious girls -about me, as ever pious matron had under her tuition at a <i>Hackney</i> -boarding-school; nor would they ever dare to humble the proud flesh of a -sinner without my leave or approbation; and, like good christians, as -often as they had sinn’d, came to auricular confession. I always did -every thing in the fear of the lord, and was, I thank my Creator, so -happy in my memory, that I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_260">{260}</a></span> had as many texts of scripture at command, -as a presbyterian parson. For my zeal to religion, and the services I -daily did to the publick community, I bless my stars, I never wanted a -city magistrate to stand my friend in the times of persecution, or any -other adversity; but could have half the court of aldermen appear on my -behalf at an hour’s warning. I kept a painter in my house perpetually -employ’d upon fresh faces, and had a good as collection of pictures, to -the life, as ever were to be seen in <i>Lilly</i>’s showing-room; beauties of -all complexions, from the cole-black cling-fast, to the golden-lock’d -insatiate, from the sleepye’d slug, to the brisk-ey’d wanton; from the -reserv’d hypocrite, to the lew’d fricatrix; so that every man might -choose by the shadow, what kind of beauteous substance would give his -fancy the greatest titillation. Every room in my house was adorn’d with -the picture of some grave bishop, that my customers might see what a -great veneration I had for the clergy; all my lodgings were as well -furnish’d, as the splendid apartments of a prince’s palace; that every -citizen, whose wife had been kiss’d at court, might fancy in revenge, by -the richness of his bed, he was making a cuckold of a nobleman. I never -was without <i>Viper-wine</i> for a fumbler, to give a spur to old age and -assist impotency. I also had right <i>French Claret</i>, and the flower of -<i>Canary</i>, to wash away the dregs of the last <i>Sunday</i>’s sermon, that the -bugbears of conscience might not fright a good churchman from the -pleasures of fornication. I had orders in every room, against cathedral -exercise, or beastical back-slidings, and made it ten shillings -forfeiture for any that were caught in such actions; because I would not -be bilk’d of my bed-money. These were the measures I took in my -occupation to procure an honest livelihood; and Heaven be prais’d, I -thriv’d as well in my profession, as if my calling had been licensable. -How times are alter’d since, I know not, but I hear, to my great sorrow, -that bawding, of late years, which us’d to be a trade of itself, is now -grown scandalous, and very much declin’d by reason that midwives, like a -parcel of incroaching husseys, have engross’d the whole business to -themselves, to the starving of you experienc’d old ladies, who have -spent their days, and worn out their beauty in the service of the -publick; and ought in all equity to be<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_261">{261}</a></span> the only persons, thought -qualifi’d for so judicious an undertaking, to support them in their old -age, when father time has stripp’d them of their charms, and their noble -faculties fail them; besides, I hear noblemen employ their own valets, -ladies their own waiting women, citizens wives one another, and all to -save charges, to the ruin of our poor sister-hood.</p> - -<p>Alack a-day! what a pernicious age do you live in? that traders should -trust one another to buy their commodities, and all to save the expence -of brokerage. I fear, there are some instruments among yourselves, that -have been the main occasion of your being thus neglected. I shall -further proceed, to give you a little advice, which, if but duly -observ’d, may, I hope, in a little time, recover the antient state of -bawdery into a flourishing condition, and make it once more as reputable -a calling, as it was when clergymens widows, and decay’d ladies at -court, did not disdain to follow it.</p> - -<p>Never neglect publick prayers twice a day, hear two sermons every -<i>Sunday</i>, receive the sacrament once a month, but let this be done at a -church where you are unknown; and be sure read the scriptures often, and -be sure fortify your tongue with abundance of godly sayings, let them -drop from you in strange company, as thick as ripe fruit from the tree -in a high wind; and whenever you have a design upon the daughter, be -sure of the mother’s faith, and ply her closely with religion, and she -will trust her beloved abroad with you in hopes she may edify; for you -must consider, there is no being a perfect bawd without being a true -hypocrite.</p> - -<p>Always have a lodging separate from your house, in a place of credit; -where, upon an occasion, you may entertain the parents without being -suspected, and corrupt the minds of their children before they know your -employment: you must first pour the poison in at their ears, infect -their thoughts, and when their fancies begin to itch, they will have -their tails rubb’d in spite of the devil.</p> - -<p>Whenever you have a maiden-head, be sure make a penny of the first -fruits, and at the second-hand let the next justice of peace have the -residue on free cost, tho’ you must give her her lesson, and present her -as a pure virgin;<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_262">{262}</a></span> by this sort of bribery, you may win all the -magistrates in <i>Middlesex</i>; make <i>Hicks’s-hall</i> your sanctuary, and gain -an useful ascendency over the whole bench of justices.</p> - -<p>Never admit common faces into your domestick seraglio, ’tis a scandal to -your family, a dishonour to your function, and will certainly spoil your -trade; but ply close at inns upon the coming in of waggons, and -gee-ho-coaches, and there you may hire fresh country wenches, sound, -plump, and juicy, and truly qualified for your business.</p> - -<p>Whatever you do, never trust any of your tits into an inn of court, or -inn of chancery, for if you do they will certainly harass her about from -chamber to chamber, till they have rid her off her legs; elevate her by -degrees, from the ground-floor to their garrets, and make her drudge -like a landress, thro’ a whole stair-case; and after a good weeks work, -send her home with foul linnen, torn heed-geer, rumbled scarf, apparel -spew’d upon, without fan, with but one glove, no money, and perhaps a -hot tail into the bargain.</p> - -<p>This advice for the present, if put in practice, I hope will prove of -use to you; I must tell you, there is nothing to be done in the world -you live in, without cunning; religion itself, without policy, is too -simple to be safe; therefore, if you do but take care for the future and -deal by the world, as a woman of your station ought to do, and play your -cards like a gamestress, I don’t at all question, but the mystery of -bawding, by your good management, may be rais’d again, in spite of -reformation, to its pristine eminency; which are the hearty wishes of,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Your Defunct Friend</i>,<br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">Creswell</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a id="Moll_Quarless_Answer_to_Mother_Creswell_of_Famous_Memory"></a><span class="smcap">Moll Quarles</span><i>’s</i> Answer to Mother <span class="smcap">Creswell</span> of Famous Memory.</h2> - -<p><i>Loving Sister</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><i><span class="letra">Y</span>OUR compassionate letter, has so won my affections to your pious -memory, that it shall be always my endea<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_263">{263}</a></span>vour to pursue your kind -instructions, and to make myself the happy imitatrix of your glorious -example, having often, with great satisfaction, heard of your fame; -which as long as there is a young libertine, or an honest old -whoremaster living upon earth, can never be obliterated. Were I to give -you an account of the severe usage, and many persecutions I have been -under of late days, since the mercenary reformation of ill-manners has -been put on foot, it would soften the most obdurate wretches within your -infernal precincts, and make them squeeze me out a tear of pity, tho’ -your unextinguishable fire had so dry’d their souls, that their -immortalities were crusted into perfect cinder.</i></p> - -<p><i>Of all the unmerciful impositions that ever were laid upon bumb-labour, -none ever so highly afflicted, or so insupportably oppress us, the -retailers of copulation, as this intolerable society, who have brib’d -those who were our pimps to forsake our interest; and have made those -scoundrels who were our meanest servants, our implacable masters; who -come in clusters like cowardly bailiffs to arrest a bully; distrain our -commodities for want of money to pacify their greedy avarice; fright -away our customers, and make us pawn our cloaths to redeem little more -than our nakedness from a cat of nine-tails, and the filthy confines of -a stinking prison: At least five hundred of these reformed vultures are -daily plundering our pockets, and ransacking our houses, leaving me -sometimes not one pair of tractable buttocks in my vaulting-school to -provide for my family, or earn me so much as a pudding for my next</i> -Sunday’s <i>dinner: nay, sometimes I have been forc’d to wag my own hand -to get a penny for want of a journey-woman in my house to dispatch -business. To shun their jury, I once got sanctuary in the</i> -Rolls-<i>liberty, where I thought myself as safe as a fox in a badgers -hole, and had bid defiance to the rogues even to this day, for only -sacrificing now and then an elemosynary maiden-head to the fumbling of -old impotency; but some ill-natur’d observators beginning to reflect, -occasion’d my good friend to look a little a-skew upon me, when he found -his gravity and reputation began to be smear’d a little; so that I was -soon toss’d out by his untimely fear, whose lust before had kindly given -me protection: and now again, as true as I am a sinner, the rogues -plunder’d me<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_264">{264}</a></span> of at least eight pence out of every shilling for -forbearance-money, and I believe will grow so unreasonable in a little -time, that they will not be content with less gain than an apothecary. -The officers of the parish, where-ever I liv’d, had the scouring of -their old rusty hangers for a word speaking, without so much as -gratifying the wench for making the bed, or being ever at the expence of -presenting one of my poor girls with a paper-fan, or a pair of taffeta -shoestrings. One honest churchwarden, I must confess, when I liv’d in -St.</i> Andrew<i>’s parish, after I had serv’d him and his son with the -choicest goods in my warehouse for above two years together, till they -had got a wife between them, had the gratitude, like an honest man, to -present me with a looking-glass; which I took so kindly at his hands, -that I declare it, should he come to my house to morrow, I would oblige -him with as good a commodity in my way, as a worthy old fornicator or -adulterer would desire to lay his hand upon</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Thus plaguing and pillaging of all our known houses of delight, has -been a great discouragement to young ladies from tendring their service -at such places, or rendevouzing in numbers upon the lawful occasions -that concern their livelihood, for fear of trouble or molestation, and -make them rather choose to deel singly, as interlopers, than incorporate -themselves with the company of town-traders, for fear of being scratch’d -out of their burrows by those reforming ferrets, who make worse havock -with the poor sculking creatures, than so many weasles or pole-cats -would do with coneys in a warren; they sleep in fear, walk in dread, -converse in danger, do their business, poor wretches, insteed of -pleasure, with an aking heart. Oh, sister! what a miserable age is this -we live in after you, that one part of mankind cannot obey the great law -of nature, but the other part shall make a law to punish them for doing -it! Which sport, if totally neglected, would soon make lions, and tygers -princes of the earth, and turn the world into a solitary wilderness.</i></p> - -<p><i>I cannot but reflect, with great concern, upon the unreasonableness of -some men in authority, who loving the old trade of basket-making so well -themselves, are so inveterate against the same practice in others, that -I cannot but believe, they think the sweet sin of copulation ought to be -enjoy’d by none under the dignity of a justice of peace, or<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_265">{265}</a></span> at least -the authority of a high constable: nay, and are so inveterate when they -grow old, against other creatures who they know use it, that a grave -city magistrate, one of the reformed-society, seeing a young game cock -of his own, refresh his feather’d mistress three times in about half an -hour, he grew so wonderful angry with the lascivious chaunticleer, that -he order’d him forthwith to be depriv’d of his progenitors, for -committing so foul an act with such indecent immoderation; looking upon -the intemperance to be a shameful example, sufficient to stir up -inordinate desires in mankind, and to put the female part of his own -family upon unreasonable expectancies; but the good lady of the house -enquired into the reason, why the noble little creature was so severely -dealt by, and being inform’d by her chamber-maid, she compassionately -declar’d, that she would rather have given five pound than so barbarous -an action had been done in her family, for that the bird committed no -offence, and therefore deserv’d no punishment. Observe but in this -particular the cruelty of sordid man, and the tenderness of the female -sex! and how can those poor girls, who have nothing to depend on but the -drudgery of flipflap, expect any other than severe usage from so morose -a creature? For certain, whilst publick magistrates are in their -authority so stiff, and private women in their own houses so pliable, -the ladies of the town must starve, and be firk’d about from one</i> -Bridewell <i>to another; for the favours of a kind mistress, which were -once thought the most valuable blessings beneath the clouds, are now -become, thro’ the universal corruption of the female sex, such -unregarded drugs, that the scene is quite revers’d, and as women us’d to -take money formerly as but just recompence for their soft embraces, they -are forc’d to give money now, or else they will have a hard matter to -procure a gallant that is worth whistling after. How therefore at this -rate, are the poor whores like to be fed, when the rich ones buy up all -for their cats, and the middling whores in private lie and pick up the -crumbs? For what won’t down with the quality, are snapp’d up by -citizens-wives, sempstresses and head-dressers; insomuch, that I have -several pretty nymphs under my own jurisdiction, that some weeks I may -modestly say, don’t earn money enough to pay their three-penny -admittances into</i> Pancras-<i>wells, but are often-times forc’d to tick -half a<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_266">{266}</a></span> sice a piece for their watering; and were it not for the credit -I always preserve in those places, the poor wenches might be dash’d out -of countenance by being refus’d entrance; but money or no money, if they -are my puppets, and name but who they belong to, they are as kindly -receiv’d as so many butchers at the</i> Bear-Garden; <i>for without them -there would be no sport. You may from thence observe what an honest -reputation I maintain abroad for a lady of my calling, that the word of -the homeliest courtezan protected under my roof, will pass for -three-pence any where that she’s known, without the least exception, -when many a poor house-keeper has not credit for a two-penny loaf.</i></p> - -<p><i>We have nothing to hope for, but that the national senate, thro’ their -wonted wisdom, will find out, without shamming on’t, some real expedient -to restrain the looseness of the age, and promote the practice of -morality and strict observance of religion; for thro’ all the experience -I have had in the mystery of intriguing, I have ever found the lady’s -students in the school of</i> Venus, <i>attended with the most prosperity -when the people are most pious; whether it is that a good conscience -teaches gentlemen to be more grateful to their mistresses, or that as -the priests grow fat, the petticoat flourishes, I will leave you to -determine: so thanking you for the kind advice you gave me in your -letter, which shall always be esteem’d a guide to my future practice</i>,</p> - -<p class="c"> -<i>I rest</i>,<br /> -<br /> -Your Loving Sister,<br /> -</p> -<p class="rt"> -<span class="smcap">Moll Quarles</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 275px;"> -<a href="images/ill_016.jpg"> -<img src="images/ill_016.jpg" width="275" height="162" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_267">{267}</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><a id="LETTERS"></a>LETTERS<br /><br /> -FROM THE<br /><br /> -<span class="smcap">Dead</span> <i>to the</i> <span class="smcap">Living</span>.</h2> - -<h2><a id="Part_III"></a><span class="smcap">Part III.</span></h2> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang"><i>The third and last Letter from Seignior</i> <span class="smcap">Giusippe Hanesio</span>, -<i>High-German Doctor and Astrologer in</i> Brandinopolis, <i>to his -Friends at</i> <span class="smcap">Will</span><i>’s Coffee-House in</i> Covent-Garden.</p></div> - -<p><i>By Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Tho. Brown</span>.</p> - -<p><i>Gentlemen</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> Was forc’d to break off my last abruptly, by reason of the vast crowds -of people, which press’d upon me then for advice, so that I could not -present you with a full catalogue of my cures, which you will find at -the conclusion of this, or acquaint you with what transactions of moment -have lately happen’d in our gloomy regions. But having by miracle a -vacant hour or two at present upon my hands, which, by the by, is a -blessing I am seldom troubled with, I was resolv’d not to neglect so -fair a opportunity of paying my respects to you, and therefore without -any more preface or formality, will continue the thread of my narration.</p> - -<p>I had no sooner publish’d my bill and catalogue of cures, but my house -has been crouded ever since with prodigious shoals of patients, that I -can hardly afford myself an hour to pass with my friends: they flock -from all corners of this gigantic city, so that sometimes not only my -court-yard<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_268">{268}</a></span> which is very large and spacious, but even my chamber, my -anti-chamber, and if you’ll allow me, gentlemen, to coin a new word, my -pro-anti-chamber, or my hall, is full of them: I will only tell you the -names of a few customers of quality that resorted to me for advice -yesterday morning: to give you an idea of my business, and how -considerable ’tis like to prove.</p> - -<p>About a month after my setting up, who should rap at my door, but the -famous <i>Semiramis</i>? I remembered her royal phiz perfectly well, ever -since my friend <i>Nokes</i> carried me to her coffee-house, and treated me -there with a glass of <i>Geneva</i>; however, for certain reasons of state I -did not think it proper to let her <i>Babylonian</i> majesty know, that I was -acquainted either with her name or quality; come good woman, said I to -her, what is your business? <i>Oh!</i> replies she, <i>you see the most -unfortunate, unhappy creature in the world</i>. Why what calamity has -befallen you? <i>Only</i>, says she, <i>too big for words to express</i>; with -that she wrung her hands, stamp’d upon the floor, cursing the -left-handed planet she was born under, and pouring down such a deluge of -tears, that one would have thought it had been the second edition of the -<i>Ephesian</i> matron, lamenting the loss of one spouse in order to wheedle -on a second. When her grief had pretty well exhausted itself at the -sluices of her eyes, she thus continu’d her tragical <i>historietto</i>. -<i>Were I minded, doctor, to trouble you with my genealogy, I could -perhaps, make it easily appear, that few people are descended of better -parents than myself, but let that pass; the scene is alter’d with me at -present, and rather than take up with ill courses, or to be troublesom -to my relations, I am content to keep a coffee-house. Now as I was -sitting in my bar this morning, and footing a pair of stockings for</i> -Alexander <i>the</i> great, <i>in came two rascally grenadiers, and ask’d for -some juniper; but alas! while I was gone down into the cellar to fetch -it, these lubberly rogues plunder’d me of a silver spoon and -nutmeg-grater, and made their escape</i>. Come mistress, says I, this loss -is not so great but a little diligence may retrieve it. <i>Oh never</i>, says -she again, <i>unless you help me by your art, I am utterly undone to all -intents and purposes</i>. Finding her so much mortify’d for the loss of her -two utensils, I resolv’d to exert the fortune-teller to her, and banter -her in the laudable terms of astro<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_269">{269}</a></span>logy; so putting on a very compos’d -countenance, I seem’d very seriously to consult a celestial globe that -stood before me; then enquiring the precise time when this horrid theft -was committed, I drew several odd figures and strokes upon a piece of -paper, and at last the oracle thus open’d: <i>Mistress, it appears I find -by the</i> Heliocentric <i>position of the planets, that</i> Jupiter, <i>you -understand me, is become stationary to retrogradation in</i> Cancer, <i>and -consequently, you observe me, mistress, equivocal to him; but how and -why in</i> Trine <i>to</i> Mercury <i>in</i> Scorpio, <i>both posited in watry signs, -and at the same time</i> Mars <i>being ascendant of the second house, as you -may perceive, ’tis as plain that the culminating aspect of</i> Saturn<i>’s</i> -Satellites, <i>do ye mind me, centres full in the foresaid configuration. -So then mistress, the hoary question thus resolves itself</i>, viz. <i>That -your goods were carry’d away</i> South-East <i>by</i> East <i>of your house, under -the sign of a four-footed creature, and if you’ll leave open your -parlour windows a-nights, I dare pawn my life and honour, that both your -silver spoon and nutmeg-grater will be flung into the house one of the -nights</i>. <i>Semiramis</i> was wonderfully pleas’d to hear such news, dropt me -a fee, and went about her business.</p> - -<p>She was hardly gone, but in came queen <i>Dido</i>, who the last time I saw -her call’d <i>Virgil</i> so many rogues and rascals in my hearing, for -raising such a malicious story of her and and the pious <i>Æneas</i>; it was -a long time before I could get her to tell me what errand she came -about: at last, after abundance of blushing, and covering half her face -with her hood, <i>Seignior</i> Hanesio, says she, <i>I doubt not but a person -of your experience has observ’d in his time but too many instances of -female infirmity. To be plain with you, I am one, and tho’ I made as -great a splutter about my virtue as the soundest of my sex, yet I was a -damn’d recreant all that while. In short, I find by several indications -which I have not nam’d to you, doctor, that I am with child,—and being -very tender of my reputation,—which, doctor, is all we poor women have -to depend upon,—— and loth to have my good name expos’d in ballads and -lampoons.—— I beg the favour of you, dear doctor,—— and you shall -find I will gratify you nobly for your pains, to help me to something -that shall make me,—— but you know my meaning, doctor.—— To miscarry -is it not, Madam? You are in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_270">{270}</a></span> right on’t, dear Sir, reply’d she. Why -then, Madam, I must tell you, are come to the wrong house; for whether -you know it or no, I carry a tender conscience about me, mind me what I -say, I carry a tender conscience about me, and would not be guilty of -such a wicked thing as you mention for the world. But there is an</i> -Italian <i>son of a whore at the corner of the street, that will poison -you and the child in your belly, and half the women in the city for half -a crown. You may make your application to him, if you think fit, but for -my part, Madam, I’ll be perjur’d for no body; for as I told you before, -my conscience is tender</i>: Upon this our famous <i>coquette</i> immediately -withdrew in a great deal of confusion, and curs’d me plentifully in her -gizzard, I don’t question.</p> - -<p>My next visitant was <i>Lucretia</i>, who brought some of her water in an -<i>urinal</i>, and desir’d me to give her my judgment on’t. Finding her -ladyship look a little blueish, and so forth, under the eyes; what was -more, having been privately inform’d of the correspondence she kept with -<i>Æsop</i> the <i>fabulist</i>; <i>Madam</i>, says I bluntly to her, <i>the party to -whom this urine belongs, is under none of the most healthful -circumstances, but troubled with certain prickings and pains. I’ll -swear, doctor</i>, says she, <i>you are a man of skill, for to my certain -knowledge the party is troubled with those concerns you were talking of. -You need not forestal me, Madam</i>, says I to her, <i>but especially when -she makes water; I knew it as soon as ever I cast my eyes upon the -urinal: and pray, Sir, what may be the occasion of it? for the party is -at a horrid loss, what is the matter with her. Why, Madam</i>, says I, <i>the -matter is plain enough, the party has been committing acts of privity -with somebody, and has disoblig’d love’s mansion by it: or to express -myself in the familiar language of a modern versificator and quack</i>;</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Has been dabbling in private, and had the mishap,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>In seeking for pleasure to meet with a clap.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind"><i>How doctor, says she, have you the impudence to say the party is -clapt?</i> verily, Madam, and yet I am no more impudent than some of my -neighbours. <i>Why you saucy fellow you</i>, continues she, <i>I’d have you to -know that I am the party to whome the urine belongs, and my name is</i> -Lucretia, <i>that celebrated matron in</i> Roman <i>history, who scorn<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_271">{271}</a></span>ing to -out-live her honour, perferr’d a voluntary death to an ignominious life. -Yes, Madam</i>, says I, <i>I know your history well enough, and whatever -opinion I may have of your chastity, I have yet a greater of your -discretion; for, between friends be it said, Madam, before you left the -insignificant world, you were resolv’d to taste the sweetness of young</i> -Tarquin<i>’s person; and finding what a vast difference there was between -vigorous love and phlegmatick duty, you thought it not worth your while -to be troubled any longer with the dull embraces of an impotent husband. -Oh most abominable scandal</i>, cries our matron, <i>but Heaven be prais’d</i> -Livy <i>tells another story of my chastity; and to let thee see how -scrupulous and careful I am to preserve my reputation spotless, know, I -keep company with none but moralists and philosophers. Lord, Madam</i>, -says I, <i>your intrigues are no mysteries to me: I am no stranger to that -laudable commerce you keep with that crook-back’d moralist and -fable-monger of</i> Phrygia, <i>they call him my lord; Æsop</i> (at which -unwelcome words she look’d paler than I have the charity to believe she -did when the impetuous <i>Tarquin</i> leapt into bed to her) <i>and as for -those sage recommenders of virtue, the philosophers, take my word for -it, a clap may be got as soon among them, as any other sort of men -whatsoever. Since my coming into these parts, Madam, I am able to give -you a true account of the present state of most of these</i> Philosophers’ -<i>bodies</i>. Thales, <i>who held that</i> Water <i>was the beginning of all -things, is now satisfy’d that</i> Fire <i>is the conclusion of love</i>. -Pythagoras <i>that run thro’ so many changes in the other world, has -undergone a greater transmutation here in a sweating tub. The divine</i> -Plato, <i>and his disciple</i> Aristotle, <i>are at this present writing very -lovingly salivating in my garret</i>. Socrates <i>had his shin-bones scrap’d -t’other morning by my toad-eater Dr.</i> Connor, <i>by the same token the</i> -Hibernian <i>thrash’d him for swearing so inordinately at his</i> dæmon <i>that -led him into this mischance</i>. Aristotle <i>told me last night, that -nothing in philosophy troubled him so much as pissing of needles</i>. -Diogenes <i>has a phiz so merrily collyflower’d, that he protests against -planting of men, since these are the effects of it; and the virtuous</i> -Seneca <i>has lost all his</i> Roman <i>patience with his nose. But alas, these -solemn splaymouth’d gentlemen, Madam</i>, says I, <i>only do it to improve in -natural philosophy, with no wicked intentions,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_272">{272}</a></span> I can assure you, no -carnal titillation to urge them on, or the like. Well, says she, since -’tis in vain to play the hypocrite any longer, I own myself a downright -frail woman, therefore resolve me what is best to be done for my -recovery? Look you, Madam</i>, says I, <i>you must take physick, and live -sober for a fortnight or so, and I’ll engage to make you as primitively -sound as when you first came squaling into the world. Here’s a dose of -pills the devil of any</i> Mercury<i>’s in them; take four of them every -morning, and to make them operate the better, drink me a quart of -honest</i> Phlegethon <i>a little warm’d over the fire, and mix some grated -nutmeg with it to correct the crudity</i>. She promis’d to observe my -directions, presented me with half a score broad pieces, and as she was -going out of the room, <i>Worthy doctor</i>, says she, <i>I conjure you to have -a care of my dear dear reputation: And</i>, Madam, answers I, <i>pray have -you likewise a care of your dear dear brandy bottle, and your beloved -Dr.</i> Steven<i>’s water with the gold in it</i>; and so we parted.</p> - -<p>I was thinking with myself, surely it rains nothing but female visitants -this morning, when a brace of two handed strapping jades bolted into my -closet, and upon a due examination of their faces, I found one of them -to be <i>Thalestris</i> the <i>Amazonian</i>, who, as I hinted to you in my last, -is become an haberdasheress of small wares; and the other that termagant -motly composition of half man half woman, <i>Christiana</i> the late queen of -<i>Sweden</i>. So my two chopping <i>Bona Roba’s</i>, says I to ’em and what -business has brought you hither? <i>Why you must know, cries</i> Thalestris, -<i>that both of us are furiously in love and want a little of your -assistance</i>.</p> - -<p>The ladies may be always sure of commanding that, answers I, but pray -explain yourselves more particularly. <i>For my part, says</i> Thalestris, -<i>having formerly been happy in the embraces of</i> Alexander <i>the great, I -could never fancy anything but a soldier ever since. Why our military -men</i>, says I, <i>have been always famous for attacking and carrying all -places before them, but pray tell me the happy person’s name, whom you -have singled from the rest of his sex to honour with your affection? -With the malicious world</i>, continues she, <i>he passes for a bully, but I -call him my lovely charming Capt.</i> Dawson; <i>’tis true, I am not -altogether disagreeable to this cruel insensible; he likes the majesty -of my person,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_273">{273}</a></span> my humour and wit well enough; but t’other morning he -told me, over a porringer of burnt brandy, when people are apt to -unbosom themselves, that he had an unconquerable aversion to red hair, -and so I am come to see whether you have any relief for this misfortune, -as you promise in your bills. This is no business of mine</i>, says I to -her, <i>but my wife’s who’ll soon redress your grievances, and furnish you -with a leaden comb and my</i> Anti-Erythræan <i>unguent, which after two or -three applications will make you as fair or as brown as you desire</i>. And -having said so, address’d myself to her companion, and enquir’d of her -what she came for? <i>I am up to the ears in love, says</i> Christiana, <i>with -a jolly smock-fac’d duchess’s chaplain lately arriv’d in these parts; I -have already signify’d my passion to him, both after the antient and -modern way, persecuted him with</i> Latin <i>and</i> French billet-deux, <i>for -which I was always famous: but this stubborn</i> Theologue <i>tells me my -face is too masculine for him, and particularly quarrels with the -irregularity of my forehead and eyebrows. Those will easily be -recftify’d by my wife</i>, says I: <i>and now, Madam, will you give me leave -to ask you a civil question or two?</i> a hundred, my dear <i>seignior</i>, -answers she very obligingly. <i>To be short then</i>, says I, <i>a certain</i> -French <i>author, who has writ the memoirs of your life, has been pleas’d -positively to assert, that your majesty went thro’ at least one half of -the college of cardinals, and that two or three popes were suspected of -being familiar with you. I wanted</i>, answers she, <i>no sort of consolation -from those noble personages, while I liv’d at</i> Rome; <i>and to convince -you how well I am satisfied in their abilities, by my good will, I would -have to do with none but ecclesiasticks; for besides that they eat and -drink plentifully, and by consequence want no vigour, they possess -another no less commendable quality, and that is taciturnity. I applaud -your judgment</i>, replies I, <i>for your churchmen are true feeders and -thundering performers. No body knows that better than myself</i>, says -Christiana, <i>and take my word for it, one robust well-chined priest is -worth a hundred of your lean half starv’d captains. I’ll never hear the -soldiery blasphem’d, says</i> Thalestris, <i>in a mighty passion, I tell -thee, thou insignificant north country trollop, thou foolish affected -grammarian-ridden she-pedant, that one soldier is better than a thousand -of your stiff-rump’d parsons</i>; and immediately saluted<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_274">{274}</a></span> her with a -discourteous reprimand a cross the mazzard. The blood of <i>Gustavus -Adolphus</i> began to be rous’d in <i>Christiana</i>, and my glasses, globes, -and crocodile and all, were infallibly going to rack between these two -furious heroines, when my wife luckily stept in to put an end to the -fray. In short the matter was amicable made up, and so they follow’d my -spouse into her closet, where I’ll leave them.</p> - -<p>Thus, <i>gentlemen</i>, you may perceive what sort of customers resort to me, -I could tell you a hundred more stories to the same purpose, but why -should I pretend to entertain persons of your worth with so mean and -unworthy a subject as my self? therefore to diversify the scene, I will -endeavour to divert you with some occurences of a more publick -importance, which have happen’d in our <i>Acherontic</i> dominions since I -writ to you last.</p> - -<p>But before I proceed any farther I am to inform you, that we have a -spacious noble room in the middle of <i>Brandinopolis</i>, where the -virtuosos of former ages as well as of the present, use to resort and -entertain one another with learned or facetious conversation, according -as it happens. Of late we have had the same controversy debated among -us, which so long employ’d monsieur <i>Perault</i> and the famous wits of -<i>France</i>, I mean, whether the antients are preferable to the moderns in -the learned arts and sciences. The question had been discuss’d one -afternoon with a great deal of heat on both sides, when an honest merry -gentleman and a new comer among us, whose name I have unluckily forgot, -interpos’d in the dispute, and express’d himself to this effect. -Gentlemen, says he, I think you may e’en drop this controversy, for I -can make it appear, that little <i>England</i> alone affords a set of men at -present, that much out-do any of the antients in whatever they pretend -to. There’s honest Mr. <i>Edmund Whiteaker</i>, late of the admiralty office, -that in the mystery of making up accounts out-does <i>Archimedes</i>; and my -lord <i>Puzzlechalk</i>, who told his master’s money over a gridiron, -understands numbers better than <i>Archytas</i> or <i>Euclid</i>. Mr. <i>Burgess</i> of -<i>Covent-Garden</i>, and indeed most of the <i>dissenting parsons</i>, go -infinitely beyond <i>Tully</i> and <i>Demosthenes</i> in point of eloquence; for -those old fashion’d orators could only raise joy and sadness -successively, whereas the latter so manage<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_275">{275}</a></span> matters, that they can make -their congregations laugh and weep both at once. The antients were -forc’d to drudge and take pains to make themselves masters of any tongue -before they pretended to write in it; but here’s <i>your old friend Dr.</i> -Case <i>by Ludgate</i>, writ a system of anatomy in <i>Latin</i>, and does not -understand a syllable of the language. As for musick you may talk till -your heart akes of your <i>Amphions</i> and your <i>Orpheus</i>’s, that drew trees -and stones after them by the irresistible force of their harmony; this -is so far from being a miracle among us, that the vilest thrummers in -<i>England</i> and <i>Wales</i> do it every wake and fair they go to: then as for -the various perturbations of mind caus’d by the antient musick, we saw -something more wonderful happen upon our own theatre since the late -revolution, than antiquity can boast of; for when <i>Harry Purcel</i>’s -famous winter song at the <i>Opera</i> of king <i>Arthur</i>, was sung at the -play-house, half the gentlemen and ladies in the side boxes and pit got -an ague by it, tho’ it was sung in the midst of the dog-days. Lastly, to -conclude, for I am afraid I have trespass’d too much upon your patience, -we infinitely exceed the antients in quickening of parts: <i>Virgil</i>, one -of the topping wits of antiquity, was forc’d to retire out of the noise -and hurry of <i>Rome</i> to his country <i>Villa</i>, and bestow’d some ten or -twelve years in composing his <i>Æneis</i>: whereas Sir <i>Richard Blackmore</i>, -who passes but for a sixth rate versifier among us, was able to write -both his <i>Arthurs</i> in two or three years time, and that in the tumult -and smoak of Coffee-houses, or in his coach as he was jolting it from -one patient to another, amidst the vast multiplicity of his business -too, which as the city bard frankly confesses, was never greater than -then.</p> - -<p>The gentleman delivered his ironies with so good a grace that he set all -the company a laughing, and for that time put an end to the dispute. And -now since I am upon the chapter of Sir <i>Richard</i>, you must know, that -the young wits, inhabiting upon the banks of <i>Phlegethon</i>, have lately -pelted his <i>Arthurs</i> with distichs; but I can only call to mind at -present three of them. The two first reflect upon the poem’s genealogy, -which was partly begot in a coffee-house, and partly in a coach.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_276">{276}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Editus in</i> plaustri <i>strepitu, fumoque</i> tabernæ,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Non aliter nasci debuit</i> iste <i>liber</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Qui potuit matrem</i> Arthuri <i>dixisse tabernam</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>e potest currum dicere</i>, Rufe, <i>patrem</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Sæpius in libro memoratur</i> Garthius <i>uno,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Quam levis</i> Arthuro Maurus <i>utroque tumens</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>I do not wonder now at prince <i>Arthur</i>’s wonderful loquacity, says -another, (for as I remember, when he and king <i>Hoel</i> met upon the road, -he welcomes him with a simile of forty lines perpendicular) since he was -born at a coffee house; nor at the rumbling of the verse, since one half -of the book was written in a leathern vehicle; for we find, continues -he, that what is bred in the bone, will never out of the flesh; and -thus, ’tis no wonder, that according to the observation of a modern -virtuoso, the <i>Severn</i> is so mischievous and cholerick a river, and so -often ruins the country with sudden inundations, since it rises in -<i>Wales</i>, and consequently participates sometimes of the nature of that -hasty, iracund people among whom ’tis born. However, cries surly <i>Ben</i>, -I must needs commend Sir <i>Richard</i>’s sagacity and politicks in taking -care that his muse should be so openly deliver’d; for Epic poems, like -the children of sovereign princes, ought to be born in publick.</p> - -<p>The other day, as I was taking a solitary turn by myself, ’twas my -fortune to meet with a leash of old-fashion’d thread-bare mortals, with -very dejected looks, and in the best equipage of those worthy gentlemen, -whom you may see every day between the hours of twelve and one, walking -in the <i>Middle-Temple</i> and <i>Grays-Inn</i> walks, to get ’em a stomach to -their no-dinners. At first I took them for a parcel of fiddlers, when -the oldest of them undeceiv’d me, by addressing himself to me as -follows. Sir, says he, my name is <i>J. Hopkins</i>, my two companions are -the fam’d <i>Sternhold</i> and <i>Wisdom</i>, and understanding that you are -lately arrived from <i>England</i>, I have presum’d to ask you a question: we -have been inform’d some time ago, that two <i>Hibernian</i> bards, finding -fault with our version and language, have endeavour’d to depose myself -and my two bre<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_277">{277}</a></span>thren here out of all parish-churches, where we have -reign’d most melodiously so long, and to substitute their own -translation in the room of it; I must confess it vexes me to the heart -to think that I must be ejected after an hundred years quiet possession -and better, which, by the Common as well as Civil law, gives a man a -just title, and resign my ecclesiastical dominions to two new fangled -usurpers, whom I never injur’d in my days. Now, Sir, pray tell me how my -affairs go in your world, and whether I have reputation enough still -left me with the people, to make head against those unrighteous -innovators? Why truly, Mr. <i>Hopkins</i>, says I to him, when these -adversaries first appeared in the world, I was in some pain about you, -the conspiracy against your crown and dignity being so speciously laid, -that nothing less than an universal defection seem’d to threaten you. -’Tis true indeed, some few churches in and about <i>London</i>, where the -people you know are govern’d by a spirit of novelty, have thrown you -out, but by what advices I can receive, excepting some few revolters, -the generality of the people seem to be heartily engaged in your -interests, and as it always happens to other monarchs when they are able -to surmount an insurrection form’d against them, I look upon your -throne, since you have so happily broke the neck of this rebellion, to -be settled upon a surer basis than ever. The Parish-clerks, sextons, and -old women, all over the kingdom are in a particular manner devoted to -your service, preserving a most entire and unshaken allegiance to you, -and on my conscience would sooner part with all <i>magna charta</i> than one -syllable of yours. You wonderfully revive my spirits, replies old -<i>Hopkins</i>, to tell me such comfortable news, but pray, Sir, one word -more with you; This new translation that has made such a noise in the -world, is it so much superior to mine, as my enemies here would make me -believe? Mr. <i>Hopkins</i>, says I, I flatter no man, ’tis not my way, -therefore you must not take amiss what I am going to say to you. For my -part I am of opinion, that king <i>David</i> is not oblig’d to any of you, -but ought to cudgel you all round; for I can find no other difference -between the <i>Jewish</i> monarch in his ancient collar of <i>ekes</i> and <i>ayes</i>, -which you and your brethren there have bestow’d upon him, and in his -new-fashion’d <i>Irish</i> dress, than there is<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_278">{278}</a></span> between an old man of -threescore with a long beard hanging down to his waste, and the same -individual old man newly come out of a barber’s shop nicely shav’d and -powder’d. ’Tis true, he looks somewhat gayer and youth-fuller, but has -not a jot more vigour and ability.</p> - -<p>I know you gentlemen of <i>Will</i>’s coffee-house, will be glad to hear some -news of Mr. <i>Dryden</i>, I must tell you then, that we had the devil all of -combustions and quarrels here in hell since that famous bard’s arrival -among us. The <i>Grecians</i>, the <i>Romans</i>, the <i>Italians</i>, the <i>Spaniards</i>, -the <i>French</i>, but especially the <i>Dutch</i> authors, have been upon his -back; <i>Homer</i> was the first that attack’d him for justifying -<i>Almanzor</i>’s idle rants and monstrous actions by the precedent of -<i>Achilles</i>. The two poets, after a little squabbling, were without much -difficulty perswaded to let their two heroes fight out the quarrel for -them, but the nimble-heel’d <i>Græcian</i> soon got the whip-hand of the -furious <i>Almanzor</i>, and made him beg pardon. <i>Horace</i> too grumbled a -little in his gizzard at him for affirming <i>Juvenal</i> to be a better -satirist than himself; but upon second thoughts thought it not worth his -while to contest the point with him. Once it happen’d, that Mr. <i>Bays</i> -came into our room when <i>Petronius Arbiter</i> was diverting us with a very -fine <i>nouvelle</i>. Mons. <i>Fontaine</i>, Sir <i>Philip Sidney</i>, Mr. <i>Waller</i>, my -late lord <i>Rochester</i>, with Sir <i>Charles Sidley</i>, compos’d part of this -illustrious audience; when Mr. <i>Dryden</i> unluckily spoil’d all by asking -the latter, what the facetious gentleman’s name was, that talk’d so -agreeably? How, says Sir <i>Charles Sidley</i>, hadst thou the impudence, in -the preface before thy <i>English Juvenal</i>, to say, that so soon as the -pretended <i>Belgrade</i> supplement of <i>Petronius</i>’s fragments came into -<i>England</i>, thou couldst tell upon reading but two lines of that edition, -whether it was genuine or no; and here hast thou heard the noble author -himself talk above an hour by the clock, and could not find him out? -Upon this the old bard retired in some disorder; but what happened to -him a day or two after was more mortifying.</p> - -<p><i>Chaucer</i> meets him in one of our coffee-houses, and after the usual -ceremonies were over between two strangers of their wit and learning, -thus accosts him. Sir, cries <i>Chaucer</i>, you have done me a wonderful -honour to furbish up some of my old musty tales, and bestow modern -garni<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_279">{279}</a></span>ture upon them, and I look upon myself much obliged to you for so -undeserved a favour; however, Sir, I must take the freedom to tell you, -that you over-strain’d matters a little, when you liken’d me to <i>Ovid</i>, -as to our wit and manner of versification. Why, Sir, says Mr. <i>Dryden</i>, -I maintain it, and who then dares be so saucy as to oppose me? But under -favour, Sir, cries the other, I think I should know <i>Ovid</i> pretty well, -having now convers’d with him almost three hundred years, and the -devil’s in it if I don’t know my own talent, and therefore tho’ you pass -a mighty compliment upon me in drawing this parallel between us, yet I -tell you there is no more resemblance between us, as to our manner of -writing, than there is between a jolly well-complexion’d <i>Englishman</i> -and a black-hair’d thin-gutted <i>Italian</i>. Lord, Sir, says <i>Dryden</i> to -him, I tell you that you’re mistaken, and your two styles are as like -one another as two Exchequer tallies. But I, who should know it better, -says <i>Chaucer</i>, tell you the contrary. And I, say Mr. <i>Bays</i>, who know -these things better than you, and all the men in the world, will stand -by what I have affirm’d, and upon that gave him the lye. <i>Rhadamanthus</i>, -who is one of <i>Pluto</i>’s oldest judges and a severe regulator of good -manners and conversation, immediately sent for our friend <i>John</i> to -appear in court; and after he had severely reprimanded him for using -such insufferable language upon no provocation; for your punishment, -says he, I command you to get Sir <i>Richard Blackmore</i>’s translation of -<i>Job</i> by heart, and to repeat ten pages of it to our friend the author -of the <i>Rehearsal</i> every morning. Poor <i>Bays</i> desired his lordship to -mitigate so rash a sentence, and by way of commutation frankly offer’d -to drink so many quarts of liquid sulphur every morning. No, says my -lord judge, tho’ they commute penances in <i>Doctors-Commons</i>, yet we are -not such rogues to commute them in hell, and so I expect to be obey’d.</p> - -<p>Thus <i>Gentlemen</i>, you see we observe a severe justice among us, and -indeed to deliver my thoughts impartially, I must needs say, that equity -is administer’d after a fairer and more compendious manner in these -dominions, than either in your <i>Westminster-Hall</i>, or your palace at -<i>Paris</i>, where <i>Astræa</i> pretends to carry all before her, yet has as -little to do in either of those two places, as a farrier at<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_280">{280}</a></span> <i>Venice</i>. A -signal instance of this we have had in a late famous tryal. A -foot-soldier of the first regiment of guards, and a <i>Drury-lane</i> whore, -were summon’d to appear before judge <i>Minos</i>, who after he had, with a -great deal of patience, heard the crimes that were alledg’d against -them, asked them what they had to offer in favour of themselves, why -sentence of damnation should not pass? the young harlot, either replying -upon the merits of her face, which she foolishly imagin’d would bring -her off here, as it had often done in your world, or else being -naturally furnish’d with a greater stock of impudence than the soldier, -broke thro’ the crowd, and thus address’d herself to the court: I hope -your lordship, says she, will take no advantage of a poor woman’s -ignorance, who ought to have learned counsel to plead for her; however, -I depend so much upon the justice of my cause, that I will undertake it -my self. The chief argument I insist upon, my lord, is this: I think it -highly unreasonable that I should suffer a-new for my crimes in this -world, having done sufficient penance for them in the other. By my -aunt’s consent and privity, I was sold to an old libidinous lord, and -debauch’d by him before I was fourteen; the noble peer kept me some four -months; then took occasion to pick a quarrel with me, and set me a drift -in the wide world, to steer my course as fortune should direct me. In -this exigence I was forc’d to apply my self to a venerable old matron, -who finding me young and handsome, took me into her service, shamm’d me -upon her customers for a baronet’s daughter of the <i>North</i>, and much I -was made of, and courted like a little queen; but, my lord, our -profession is directly opposite to all others, for too much custom -breaks us. In short, an officer in the army, whom <i>Pluto</i> rewarded for -his pains, taught me what <i>Fortune de la guerre</i> meant, so that I was -very fairly salivated before fifteen. Having got a little knowledge of -the world under this old matron’s directions, who went more than halves -with me in every bargain, I thought it high time to trade for my self, -and told her one morning, that I was resolved to expose myself no longer -in her house. What you please as for that, replies this antient -gentlewoman, but first, my dear child, let us come to a fair account to -see how the land lies between us. Then stepping into the next room<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_281">{281}</a></span> she -shew’d me a deal-board all be-scrawl’d with round o’s and cart-wheels in -ungodly chalk; then clapping on her spectacles, let me see, cries she, -for lodging, diet, washing, cloaths, linen, physick, <i>&c.</i> you owe me -ten pounds, (which came up within a few transitory shillings of what I -had earned in her house) and this you must pay, sweetheart, before you -talk of parting. ’Twas in vain to complain of her extortion, for besides -that she pleaded perscription for it, her arithmetick was infallible, -and she judg’d for her self <i>en dernier ressort</i>. Thus I was turn’d out -of doors, but having in the interim, while I stay’d here, contracted a -small acquaintance with a sister of the quill that lodg’d in -<i>Covent-Garden</i>, I repaired to her quarters, and continu’d with her. -Between us, my lord, we acted the story of <i>Castor</i> and <i>Pollux</i>, that -is, we were never visible together, but when she appeared above the -horizon, ’twas bed-time with me; and when she kept her bed, ’twas my -time to shine at the play-house. When either of us went abroad, we made -a fine show enough, but then we gratify’d our backs at the expence of -our bellies; cow-heel, tripe, a few eggs, or sprats, were our constant -regale at home, and upon holidays a chop of mutton roasted upon a -packthread in the chimney; and many a time when my sister and I wore -silver-lac’d shoes our stockings wanted feet. I should trespass too much -upon your lordship’s patience, to tell you how I have been forc’d to -shift my name as well as my quarters, to submit to the nauseous embraces -of every drunken tobacco-taking sot, that had half a crown in his pocket -to purchase me; and when I have been arrested for a milk-score not -exceeding the terrible sum of four shillings, to let an ill-look’d dog -of a <i>Moabite</i> enjoy me upon a founder’d chair in a spunging-house to -procure my liberty. To this I should add, what unmerciful contributions -I was forc’d out of my small revenue to pay to the conniving justices -clerks, the constable, the beadle, the tallyman, but especially to those -rascals the <i>Reformers</i>, whose business is not to convert, but only lay -a heavier tax upon poor sinners, and make iniquity shift its habitation -oftener than otherwise it would, I should never have done. In short, our -condition, my lord is like a frontier people that live between two -mighty monarchies, oppress’d, squeez’d, and plun<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_282">{282}</a></span>der’d on all sides. By -that time I was one and twenty, I could number more diseases than years, -smoak and swear like a grenadier; and last <i>Bartholomew fair</i>, having -made a debauch in stumm’d claret and Dr. <i>Stevens</i>’s water, with an -attorney’s clerk, a fever seiz’d me next morning, and tript up my heels -in three days. How I was buried, that is to say, whether by the -contributions of the sister-hood or at the charge of the parish, I -cannot tell; but this, my lord, is a short and faithful account of my -life, and now I submit myself to the justice of this honourable court. I -will not pretend to vindicate my profession, but this I may venture to -affirm, that the world cannot live without us, and that a whore in the -business of love, is like farthings in the business of trade, which -(tho’ they are not the legal coin of the nation) ought to be allow’d and -tolerated, if it were only for the conveniency of ready change. Well, -says my lord, since ’tis so, and your calling expos’d you to so much -suffering, I hope you made your gallants pay for it? That you may be -sure I did, answers our damsel, I sold my maidenhead to fifteen several -customers, by the same token seven of them were <i>Jews</i>, and it pleases -me to think how I cheated those loggerheads in their own <i>Mosaical</i> -indications. I never parted with any of my favours, nay, not so much as -a clap <i>gratis</i>, except a lieutenant and ensign whom once I admitted -upon trust, by the same token they built a sconce, and left me in the -lurch. I always took care to secure my money first; tho’ those -ungracious vipers of the army would rifle me now and then in spite of -all my precaution: for my lord, we whores are like the sea, what we gain -in one place we lose in another. Take her away, says my lord <i>Minos</i>, -take her away, see her fairly dipt every morning for this twelvemonth -over head and ears in good wholesome brimstone: to be both merchant and -merchandize, to sell her self for money and yet expect pleasure for it, -is worse exaction than was ever practised in <i>Lombard-street</i> or -<i>Cornhil</i>.</p> - -<p>Our <i>Drury-lane</i> nymph was no sooner carried off, but the soldier -advanced forward, and thus told his tale: My lord, you are not to expect -a fine speech from me, I am a soldier, and we soldiers are men of -action, and not of words. I was a barber’s prentice in the <i>strand</i>, -liv’d with<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_283">{283}</a></span> him five years, got his maid with child, beat his wife for -pretending to reprove me, had run on score at all the painted lattices -in the neighbour-hood, and my circumstances being such, was easily -persuaded to turn gentleman-soldier. My captain promis’d to make me a -serjeant the very moment after I was listed, but he serv’d me just as he -did his creditors, whom, to my certain knowledge, he left in the lurch. -Well, my lord, I follow’d him to <i>Flanders</i>, where I stood buff to death -and damnation four campaigns, sometimes for a groat, sometimes for -nothing a-day. Had I more sins to answer for than either the colonel or -agent of our regiment, I have bustled thro’ misery enough to wipe out -all my scores, curtail’d of my pay to keep a double-chinn’d chaplain, -who never preach’d among us, and maintain an hospital, where I could -never expect to be admitted without bribery; forc’d for want of -subsistence to steal offal, which an hungry dog would piss upon, and if -discover’d sure to be rewarded with the wooden-horse, and lest the -unweildy beast shou’d throw me, secur’d by a brace of musquets dangling -on my heels; to lie up to the chin in water for preventing of -rheumatisms, and smoak wholesome dock-leaves to prevent being dunn’d by -my stomach; drubb’d and can’d without any provocation, by a smooth-fac’d -prig, who t’other day was a pimp, or something worse to a nobleman; -never sure of one hour’s rest in the night, never certain of a meal’s -meat in the day; harass’d with perpetual marches and counter marches; -roasted all the summer, and frozen all the winter; cheated by my -officer, cuckolded by my comrades. These, my lord, were the blessings of -my life, and if ever I could muster up pence enough to purchase a single -pint of <i>Geneva</i>, I thought myself in my kingdom. Last summer I was one -of the noble adventurers that went in the expedition to <i>Cadiz</i>, and -having secur’d a little linen to myself at <i>Fort St. Mary</i>’s in order to -make me a few shirts when I came home, and rubb’d off with two -insignificant silver puppets (I think they call them saints) out of a -church, the superior commander seiz’d upon them for his own private use, -in her majesty’s name, and legally plunder’d me of what I had as legally -stolen from the enemy. This and a thousand other disappointments, -together with change of climates and other inconveniences,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_284">{284}</a></span> threw such a -damp upon my spirits, that within three days after I landed at -<i>Portsmouth</i>, I fell ill, and was glad to part with a wretched life, -which had given me so much vexation and so little satisfaction. Thus my -lord, I have honestly laid all before you, so let the court sentence me -as they please. Why really, says the judge, thy case is hard enough, and -I must needs say thou dost not want any new weight to be laid upon thee; -and so immediately acquitted him, ordering him to be set at liberty -without paying of fees.</p> - -<p>Finding justice impartially administered in <i>Hell</i>, you may perhaps have -the curiosity, gentlemen, to enquire what sort of reception my lord -<i>Double</i> of <i>Turn-about-hall</i> found among us upon his arrival into these -dominions. I must tell you then, that to the universal admiration of our -infernal world, my lord is become <i>Pluto</i>’s great favourite, so that -nothing almost is transacted here without his advice and direction. -Every body indeed expected, that his lordship who changed his religion -on purpose to delude the unhappy prince, whose prime confident he was, -and at the same time kept a private correspondence with his enemy in -<i>Holland</i>, would have found an entertainment suitable to his deserts, -been loaded with chains, and regaled with liquid sulphur; but hitherto -he has either had the good luck, or management, to avoid it. A sudden -gust of wind had blown away the fan from the top of <i>Pluto</i>’s kitchin, -that very afternoon he came here. Our monarch was first in the mind to -clap his lordship’s breech upon the iron-spike, and make a weathercock -of him (the only thing he was fit for) that with every whiff of -brimstone he might tell where damnation sate. Soon after he was of -opinion to make a light-match of him to use upon occasion, whenever he -had any empire or kingdom to blow up. But at last carefully considering -his face, and the majesty of his gate, he made him his taylor, and to -say the truth, nobody knows the dimensions of his <i>Luciferian</i> majesty -better than his lordship: and as it often happens in your world for -noblemen to be govern’d by their taylors or peruke-makers, so my lord in -his present capacity of taylor orders every thing at court, puts in and -displaces whom he pleases, and possesses <i>Pluto</i>’s ear to that degree, -that happening to be in company last week with <i>Aaron<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_285">{285}</a></span> Smith</i>, Col. -<i>Wildman</i>, <i>Slingsby Bethel</i>, <i>C—rn—sh</i>, and others of the same -kidney, who heartily wish the prosperity of old <i>Hell</i>, they gravely -shook their heads, and said they were afraid their master <i>Pluto</i>’s -government would not long continue, since he had got a viper in his -bosom, and a traytor in his cabinet, who would not fail to conjure up -some neighbouring prince against him to dispossess him of his antient -throne. Indeed ’tis prodigious to consider how this dissembler has -wriggled himself into the good opinion not only of our sovereign, but -even of queen <i>Proserpine</i>. About a month ago he had interest enough to -get my late lord <i>Sh—ft—ry</i>, released out of the dungeon, where he has -been confined ever since his coming here, and made him administrator of -the <i>Clyster-Pipe</i> to <i>Pluto</i>, for this merry reason, because he had -always a good hand at <i>striking at fundamentals</i>. That old libidinous -civilian of the <i>Commons</i>, Dr. <i>Littleton</i>, he has made judge admiral of -the <i>Stygian</i> lake, and the famous Mr. <i>Alsop</i>, who wished in his -address to king <i>James</i>, that the dissenters had casements to their -breasts, he has got to be the devil’s glazier; nay, what will more -surprize you, he has procur’d the reversion of master of <i>Pluto</i>’s rough -game, when it falls, for Dr. <i>Oates</i>; and obtain’d a promise of -candle-snuffer-general to all the gaming-houses in these quarters, for -honest <i>George Porter</i> the evidence.</p> - -<h3><i>The Remainder of my Catalogue of</i> <span class="smcap">Cures</span>.</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">T</span><i>Imothy Addlepate</i>, of <i>Cheapside</i>, <i>Milliner</i>, was so wonderfully -afflicted with the <i>Zelotypia Italica</i>, that he constantly lock’d up his -simpering red-hair’d spouse, when business call’d him abroad, and would -hardly trust her with her aunt or grandmother. By rectifying his -constitution with my true <i>Covent-Garden</i> <span class="smcap">Elixir</span>, he is so intirely -cured of the <i>Icterus Martialis</i>, or his old <i>yellow distemper</i> that now -of his own accord he carries her to the play-house, sends her to all the -balls, masquerades, and merry meetings in town; nay, trusts her alone at -<i>Epsom-Wells</i> and <i>Richmond</i>, and will let her sit a whole afternoon -with a gay smooth-fac’d officer of the guards at the tavern, and is -never disturbed at it.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_286">{286}</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Jethro Lumm</i>, at the sign of the <i>Blue-ball</i> and <i>Spotted-horse</i>, -between a <i>Cheesemonger</i>’s and <i>Perfumer</i>’s shops in -<i>Ratcliff-high-way</i>, by taking a few doses of my <i>Pulvis Vermifugus</i>, or -my <i>Antiverminous Powder</i>, voided above 30000 worms of all sorts, as -your <i>Ascarides</i>, <i>Teretes</i>, <i>Hirudines</i>, and so forth, in the space of -12 hours, one of which, by modest computation, was supposed long enough -to reach from St. <i>Leonard’s Shoreditch</i>, to <i>Tottenham high cross</i>. I -confess my medicine is a little bitter; but what says the learned -<i>Arabian</i> philosopher <i>Hamet Ben Hamet Ben Haddu Albumazar</i>, A diadem -will not cure the <i>Apoplexy</i>, nor a velvet slipper the <i>Gout</i>: And are -not all the Antients as well as Neotorics agreed, that <i>raro corpus sine -vermibus</i>. Therefore, my good friends, be advis’d in time.</p> - -<p><i>Ezekiel Driver</i> of <i>Puddle-dock</i>, Carman, having disordered his <i>Pia -mater</i> with too plentiful a morning’s draught of <i>three-threads</i> and -<i>old Pharaoh</i>, had the misfortune to have his car run over him. The -whole street concluded him as good as dead, and the over-forward clerk -of the parish had already set him down in the weekly-bills. Two -applications of my <i>Unguentum Traumaticum</i> set him immediately to -rights, and now he is coachman in ordinary to a Tallyman’s fat widow in -<i>Soho</i>. Witness his hand <i>E. D.</i></p> - -<p><i>Elnathan Ogle</i>, Anabaptist-teacher in <i>Morefields</i> over-against the -<i>Grasshopper</i> and <i>Greyhound</i>, for want of being carefully rubb’d down -by the pious females after his sudorifick exercise, had got the grease -in his heels, and was so violently troubled with rheumatical pains, that -he was no longer able to lay out himself for the benefit of his -congregation. My <i>Emplastrum Anodynum</i> so effectually reliev’d him by -twice using of it, that he has since shifted his profession, teaches the -youth of <i>Finsbury-fields</i> to play at back-sword and quarter-staff, and -has turn’d his conventicle in-for a fencing-school.</p> - -<p><i>Marmaduke Thummington</i>, at the <i>Red-cow</i> and <i>3 Travellers</i> in -<i>Barbican</i>, was possess’d with an obstreperous ill condition’d devil of -a wife, whose everlasting clack incessantly thundering in his ears, had -made him as deaf as a drum. His case was so lamentable, that a -demiculverin shot over his head affected him no more than it would a man -20 miles off; he was insensible to all the betting and swearing of the -loudest cock-match, that ever was fought by two conten<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_287">{287}</a></span>ding counties; -nay, at one of Mr. <i>Bays</i>’s fighting plays, would sit you as -unconcern’d, as if he had been at a Quakers silent meeting. After all -your <i>Elmys</i>, and other pretenders had despair’d of him, I undertook his -cure, and with a few of my <i>Otacoustical</i> drops have so intirely -recover’d him, that the society of Reformers have made him their chief -director, and his hearing is so strangely improved, that at an -eaves-dropping at a window, he can hear oaths that were never sworn, and -bawdy that was never spoke.</p> - -<p><i>Richard Bentlesworth</i>, superintendent of a small grammar-elaboratory, -in the out-skirts of the town, was so monstrously over-run with the -<i>Scorbuticum Pedanticum</i>, that he used to dumfound his milk-woman with -strange stories of <i>gerunds</i> and <i>participles</i>; would decline you -<i>domus</i> in a cellar in the <i>Strand</i> before a parcel of chimney-sweepers, -and confute <i>Schioppius</i> and <i>Alvarez</i> to the old wall-ey’d matron, that -sold him grey pease. Tho’ this strange distemper, when once it has got -full possession of a man, is as hard to be cured as an hereditary-pox, -yet I have absolutely recovered him; so that now he troubles the publick -no more with any of his <i>Dutch-Latin</i> dissertations; but is as quiet an -author as ever was neglected by all the town, or buried in -<i>Little-Britain</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Timothy Gimcrack</i>, doctor of the noble cockle-shell-fraternity, whose -philosophy and learning lay so much under ground, that he had nothing of -either to show above it, used to be troubled with strange unaccountable -fits, and during the <i>paroxism</i>, would contrive new worlds, as boys -build houses of cards, find a thousand faults with old <i>Moses</i>, make a -hasty pudding of the universe, and drown it in a <i>Menstruum</i> of his own -inventing, and leave the best patient in the city, for a new gay-coated -butterfly. I took out his brains, washed them in my <i>Aqua -Intellectualis</i>, and if has since relaps’d, who may he thank, but his -cursed <i>East-India</i> correspondent, who addled his understanding a-new, -with sending him the furniture of a <i>Chinese</i> barber’s-shop.</p> - -<p><i>Nehemiah Drowsy</i>, grocer and deputy of his ward, was so prodigiously -afflicted with a lethargy, that his whole life was little better than a -dream. He would sleep even while he was giving the account of his own -pedigree,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_288">{288}</a></span> how from leathern breeches and nothing in them, he came to -the vast fortune he now possesses. Nay, over the pious spouse of his -bosom he has been often found asleep in an exercise which keeps all -other mortals awake. By following my sage directions he’s so wonderfully -alter’d for the better, that after a full dinner of roast-beef and -pudding he can listen to a dull sermon at <i>Salters-Hall</i>, without so -much as one yawn; nay, can hear his apprentice read two entire pages of -<i>Wesley</i>’s heroic poem, and never makes a nod all the while.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>The End of my Catalogue of</i> <span class="smcap">Cures</span>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>But to come to affairs of a more publick concern, we are in a strange -ferment here about the divided interests of the houses of <i>Austria</i> and -<i>Bourbon</i>. Our master following herein the policy of the <i>Jesuits</i>, or -rather they following him, for we ought to give the devil his due, seems -to incline most to the latter: however, if the <i>Spaniards</i> and <i>French</i> -set up their horses no better in your world than they do with us, ’tis -easy to predict that the unnatural conjuction of the two kingdoms will -be soon shatter’d to pieces. Whenever they meet, there’s such roaring -and swearing, and calling of names between them, that we expect every -minute when they will go to loggerheads. ’Tis true some few of the dons -that are lately arriv’d here, call’d <i>Lewis-le-Grand</i> their protector, -and are <i>Frenchify’d</i> to a strange degree; but the rest of their -countrymen call them a parcel of degenerate rascals, and are so -violently bent against them, that unless <i>Pluto</i> lock’d them up a nights -in distinct apartments, we should have the devil and all to do with -them.</p> - -<p>Next to the affairs of <i>France</i> and <i>Spain</i>, are we concerned about the -fate of the occasional bill; a few old fashion’d virtuosos among us hope -it will pass, but the generality of our politicians, and particularly -those belonging to <i>Pluto</i>’s cabinet, who are stiled the congregation -<i>de inferno ampliando</i>, are resolv’d at any rate to hinder its taking -effect. As hypocrisy sends greater numbers to hell, than any other sins -whatever, you are not to wonder if the ministry here do all they can to -oppose the passing of a bill, which will prove so destructive to the -infernal interest by destroying hypocrisy. For which reason <i>Pluto</i> has -lately dispatch’d several trusty emissaries to your parts, who are<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_289">{289}</a></span> to -bribe your observators and other mercenary pamphleteers, to raise a -hedious outcry about persecution, and represent this design in such -odious colours to the people, that, if posible, it may miscarry. A -little time will show us the success of this refin’d conduct.</p> - -<p>One short story, gentlemen, and then I have done. A <i>Spaniard</i> last week -was commending the authors of his own country, and particularly enlarg’d -upon the merits of the voluminous long-winded <i>Tostatus</i>, who, he said, -had writ above a cart-load of books in his time. But why should I talk -of a cart-load, continues he, when he has writ more than ’tis possible -for any one single man to read over in his life? judge then of the worth -of this indefatigable <i>Tostatus</i>; judge how many tedious nights and days -he must have spent in study. Under favour, cries an <i>English</i> gentleman -lately arrived here, we have a writer that much exceeds your famous -<i>Tostatus</i>, even in that respect. His name is <i>Bentivoglio</i>, and tho’ at -present he falls somewhat short of your author, as to the number of -books of his own composing, yet he has writ one octavo, which I’ll defy -any man in the universe to read over, tho’ he has the patience of <i>Job</i>, -the constitution of <i>Sampson</i>, and the long age of <i>Methuselah</i>.</p> - -<p>But hold—I forget who I am writing to all this while; gentlemen that -have either more business or pleasure upon their hands, than to go thro’ -the tedious persecution of so unmerciful a letter. However, I hope -you’ll pardon me this fault, if you consider the great difficulty of -transmitting the <i>nouvelles</i> of our subterranean world to your parts; -for which reason I was resolv’d rather to trespass upon your patience, -than lose this opportunity of giving you an account of all our memorable -transactions. If in requital of this small trouble I have given myself, -you will be so kind as to order any one of your society, to inform me -how affairs go at present in <i>Covent-Garden</i>, at St. <i>James</i>’s &c. what -news the dramatick world affords in <i>Drury-lane</i>, <i>Lincolns-Inn-Fields</i>, -and <i>Smithfield</i>, as ’twill be the most sensible obligation you can lay -upon me, so it shall be remember’d with the utmost gratitude by,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Gentlemen, Your most obedient Servant</i>,<br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">Giusippe Hanesio</span>.<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_290">{290}</a></span></p> - -<h2> -<img src="images/contents.jpg" -width="450" -alt="[Image unavailable.]" /><br /><a id="Certamen_Epistolare"></a><span class="smcap">Certamen Epistolare</span>,<br /><br /> -Between an <i>Attorney</i> of <i>Cliffords-Inn</i> and a dead <i>Parson</i>. By Mr. <span class="smcap">T. -Brown</span>.</h2> - -<p class="c">The <span class="smcap">Argument</span>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang"><i>A fellow of a college came up to town about business; which -detaining him there much longer than he expected, he was forc’d to -borrow five pounds of his landlady, a widow in</i> Shoe-lane, <i>and -promis’d to pay her within a month. At his return to</i> Cambridge, <i>a -living in</i> Lincolnshire <i>fell vacant, and the</i> College <i>presented -him to it. On the day of his institution he drank so plentifully -with his parishioners, that he fell sick of a fever, which -dispatch’d him in a few days. All this while the widow wonder’d -what was become of the gentleman; and after several months -forbearance, having no news of him, employ’d an</i> Attorney <i>of</i> -Clifford’s-Inn <i>to write to him for the five pounds. The letter -coming to the</i> College <i>some eight months after our</i> Parson<i>’s -decease, a gentleman of the same house had the curiosity to open -it; and to carry on the frolick, answer’d it in the name of the -dead man, which gave occasion to the following commerce</i>.</p></div> - -<h3>LETTER I.</h3> - -<p class="c"><i>To Mr.—— at his Chambers in—— College in</i> Cambridge.</p> - -<p><i>SIR</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><i><span class="letra">I</span>Ngatum fi dixere omnia dixeris</i>, was the saying of one of the greatest -sages of antiquity; to whose name and merits I presume you can be no -stranger. <i>Perit quod facias ingrato</i>, was likewise the saying of -another <i>Græcian</i> philosopher, as you will find in <i>Erasmus</i>’s adagies. -<i>Save a thief from the gallows and he’ll cut your throat</i>, is a proverb -of our own growth; and we have a thousand in<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_291">{291}</a></span>stances in antient and -modern history to confirm the truth of it.</p> - -<p>Indeed ingratitude is so monstrous and execrable a vice, that, according -to the <i>Roman</i> orator’s observation (I need not tell you, that when I -say the <i>Roman</i> orator, I always mean <i>Tully</i>) the very earth itself, -the <i>bruta tellus</i>, as <i>Horace</i> deservedly calls it, is a standing -testimony against all ungrateful men, and rises up in judgment against -them. For does not this earth, the vilest of the four elements, make -grateful returns to the husbandman for the little cost and pains he -bestows upon her? Does she not sometimes give thirty, sometimes twenty, -and at least ten measures of corn for the one he entrusted her with? -Whereas an ungrateful wretch is so far from doubling or trebling a -kindness done to him, that ’tis next door to a miracle, if he can be -brought to give back the principal.</p> - -<p>And now, Sir, you’ll ask me, I suppose, what I mean by declaming thus -againgst ingratitude, any more than simony or sacrilege, or any other -sin whatever; and particularly how this comes to affect you? Why, Sir, -don’t be so hasty, I beseech you, and you’ll soon be satisfied.</p> - -<p>You must understand me then, that one Mrs. <i>Rebecca Blackman</i>, widow, -who lives at the sign of the <i>Griffin</i> in <i>Shoe-lane</i>, (I suppose, Sir, -somebody’s conscience begins to fly in his face by this time) told me, -that a certain gentleman of <i>Cambridge</i>, who very much resembles you in -name, face, and person, (and now Sir, I humbly conceive that somebody -that shall be nameless blushes) borrow’d of her upon the first of -<i>April</i>, 1698, in the tenth year of his majesty king <i>William</i>’s reign, -the sum of five pounds, (well Sir, let him blush on, for blushing is a -sign of grace) which he promis’d to repay her <i>in verbo sacerdotis</i>, -within a month after, (good Lord! to see how canonically some people can -break their words) upon the word of a gentleman, as he was a christian, -and all that. But mind what follows, Sir. This worthy gentleman, I told -you of, altho’ he was bound to the performance of his promise by all -that was good and sacred; and if good and sacred would not bind him, by -a note under his own hand, wherein he promis’d to pay to Mrs. <i>Rebecca -Blackman</i>, widow, or order, the aforesaid sum of five pounds upon -demand; nevertheless, and notwithstanding all this, he<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_292">{292}</a></span> has not had the -manners so much as to send her a letter to excuse himself for this -delay, and takes no more notice of her, than if he had never seen any -such person as Mrs. <i>Rebecca Blackman</i> in all his life.</p> - -<p>She being therefore my antient acquaintance and friend, and one for whom -I profess to have a very great value, desir’d me to write a few lines to -you, which accordingly I have done, and by her order I request you, as -being a person of great civility and candour, to tell the aforesaid -gentleman, (whom as I am informed you may see every morning in the year, -if you have a looking-glass in your room, which I will in charity -suppose) that she expects to have the five pounds <i>supradict</i> within a -fortnight at farthest, and then all will be well: otherwise she must be -forc’d, in her own defence, to employ the secular arm, <i>anglicè</i>, a -baliff or catchpole, and put the abovemention’d person into lobb’s -pound.</p> - -<p>Now, Sir, having a great regard to mother university, (of which I might -have been an unworthy member, had not my uncle——) and likwise being -desirous to prevent farther effusion of christian money, I make it my -humble request to you to speak to the aforesaid gentleman, that he would -send me the sum of five pounds with all expedition; and in so doing you -will in a most particular manner oblige,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Sir</i>,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="nind"> -<i>Your most humble tho’<br /> -unknown Servant</i>,<br /> -</p> - -<p class="r"> -W. H.<br /> -<br /> -From my Chambers<br /> -in <i>Clifford</i>’s-Inn.<br /> -</p> - -<h3>ANSWER I.</h3> - -<p><i>To Mr.</i> W. H. <i>Attorney at Law, at his Chambers in</i> Clifford’<i>s-Inn</i></p> - -<p><i>Worthy Sir</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">Y</span>Esterday morning, about eight of the clock precisely, the sun being -newly entred into <i>Sagittarius</i>, and the wind standing at south-east by -east; which corner, as the learned abbot <i>Joachimus Trithemius</i>, in his -elaborate<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_293">{293}</a></span> treatise, intitled, <i>Eurus Enucleatus</i>, tells us, is a -certain prognostick of droughts and hot weather; I was smoaking a pipe -of tobacco, and reading <i>Erasmus</i>’s <i>Moriæ Encomium</i> of the <i>Basil</i> -edition, printed by <i>Frobenius</i>, who, you know, Sir, married -<i>Christopber Plantin</i>’s cook-maid, when to my great surprize, the -post-boy brought me a letter from one <i>W. H.</i> who pretends to date it -from his chambers in <i>Clifford</i>’s-Inn; tho’ as far as I can judge of the -beast by his stile and way of writing, he ought to have a room no where -but in the brick-house in <i>Moorfields</i>.</p> - -<p>For, Sir, the author of it, and I desire you to tell him so much from -me, seems to rave, and in his raving fit disgorges old buckram -<i>Apophthegms</i> and ends of <i>Latin</i> stolen out of <i>Lycosthenes</i>; and in -short, at the expence of other folks, throws his thread-bare quotations -about him like a madman, as you will soon perceive, if you’ll give -yourself the trouble to read what follows.</p> - -<p>I. This retainer to the law, Sir, begins his letter with <i>Ingratum si -dixere omnia dixere</i>; and has the impudence to tell me, that it was a -saying of one of the greatest sages of antiquity, as if a man were a jot -the wiser for his calling him so; and, like a presuming coxcomb as he -is, presumes I am no stranger to his name and merits. Pray, Sir, tell -him from me, that he has falsify’d his quotation; for which crime, by an -old statute of king <i>Ina</i>, as you will find in <i>Gothofred</i> and -<i>Panormitanus</i>, he ought to do penance in a certain wooden machine, -call’d in <i>Latin</i>, <i>Collistrigium</i>, and in <i>English</i> a <i>Pillory</i>; and -that in all the antient manuscripts both in the <i>Vatican</i> and <i>Bodleian</i> -libraries, not to mention those of the duke of <i>Courland</i>, and the -prince of <i>Hesse-Darmstadt</i>, ’tis written, <i>Attornatum si dixeris, omnia -dixeris</i>; which is as much as to say, Sir, that if you call a man an -attorney, you call him all the rogues and rascals in the world.</p> - -<p>II. Before I proceed any farther, I must beg the favour of you to inform -him, that we are much surpriz’d here to find an attorney guilty of so -much nonsense, as to send down <i>Latin</i> to the university, where we have -more than we know well what to do with. ’Tis as bad as sending -<i>Derby</i>-ale from <i>Fullwood</i>’s-rents to the town of <i>Derby</i>, or sturgeon -to <i>Huntingdon</i>. In fine, as he has<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_294">{294}</a></span> manag’d matters, ’tis downright -<i>murderium</i> (he knows the meaning of that word) for which he must never -expect the benefit of the clergy.</p> - -<p>To pass over his next idle quotation, and an old batter’d <i>English</i> -proverb; the next person he falls upon, is the <i>Roman</i> orator; and with -his usual discretion, he gives me to understand that he means <i>Tully</i> by -him. ’Tis well he tells us whom he means; for of all the men in the -world, I thought an attorney had as little to do with an orator, as a -bawd with an eunuch. But why should a fellow that never meant any thing -in his life, pretend to meaning? Or how came <i>Tully</i> and such a -blockhead to be acquainted? Well, but <i>Tully</i>, he says, observes that -the earth itself, which, I hope by the bye, will one of these days stop -his pettifegging mouth, for calling it the vilest of the four elements, -is a standing testimony against ingratitude; and why forsooth, because -it returns the husbandman two for one. I can’t imagine how it should -come into this wretch’s head to rail at ingratitude, who is the most -ungrateful devil that ever liv’d; and ’tis ten to one but I prove it -before I have done with him. He is ungrateful in the first place to his -schoolmaster, for making no better use of the <i>Latin</i> he wipp’d into -him. He is ungrateful to the <i>Common Law</i>, for polluting it which wicked -sentences purloin’d out of <i>Pagan</i> authors: and lastly, he is ungrateful -to the <i>Inn</i> he lives in, for dreaming seven whole years there to no -purpose, and continuing as great a blockhead as when he first come to -town.</p> - -<p>Towards the conclusion of his letter, <i>you must understand</i>, says he, -<i>that one</i>—This he said to show his civility and good manners; <i>You -must understand</i>? Why suppose I won’t <i>understand</i>, how will he help -himself? Or what man alive can understand a fellow that murders his -thoughts between two languages? but I find I must <i>understand</i> him right -or wrong. After this compliment, he tells me an idle foolish story of a -widow in <i>Shoe-lane</i>, and raves about five pounds, that I know nothing -of; and is so full of it that a few lines below he calls it the sum -<i>supradict</i>. I shall take another opportunity to knock this impertinent -tale on the head, and shall only desire you at present to acquaint this -<i>W. H.</i> from me, that when he has answer’d this letter, I design to give -him satisfaction in his other points.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_295">{295}</a></span> In the mean time, unknown Sir, I -am as the <i>Roman</i> orator has it,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Tuus ab ovo usque ad mala</i>,<br /> -Q. Z.<br /> -</p> - -<h3>LETTER II.</h3> - -<p><i>SIR</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> Don’t know what plenty of <i>Latin</i> you may have in the <i>University</i>; -tho’, by the bye, I can hardly believe you are so overstock’d with it as -you pretend; but I dare swear that <i>good manners</i> are very scarce things -among you, and your letter sufficiently demonstrates it.</p> - -<p>You are angry with me, it seems, for quoting a few <i>Latin</i> sentences; I -am afraid ’tis the meaning of them, and not the language that disgusts -you; for some people can’t endure to hear the truth told them in any -tongue whatever: but, under favour, <i>Sir</i>, what mighty virtue should -there be in the air of <i>Oxford</i> and <i>Cambridge</i>, that <i>Latin</i> should -only flourish there? Or why should not <i>Tully</i> take up his quarters in -the <i>Inns</i> of <i>Chancery</i>, as well as one of your <i>Colleges</i>? I am sure -we can give him better meat and drink, and perhaps have cleaner and -larger rooms to entertain him.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Non obtusa adeo gestamus pectora</i> POENI,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Nec tam aversus equoss TYRIA sol jungit ab urbe</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>The meaning of these two verses are, (for why should not I interpret my -<i>Latin</i> to you, as well as you have taken the freedom to explain your’s -to me?) that <i>London</i> is not so barbarous and unpolish’d a place, but -that <i>Apollo</i>, and the nine <i>Muses</i> may find as hospitable a reception -there, as with you in the university.</p> - -<p>But, <i>Sir</i>, I have no time to lose, tho’ you have. The widow is pressing -for her money, the <i>Term</i> draws on apace, and I must know your answer -one way or other. Therefore let me desire you in your next, not to -ramble from the point in hand, but to keep to the text. Once in your -life take <i>Martial</i>’s advice, <i>Dic aliquid de tribus capellis</i>; here’s -<i>Latin</i> for you again; but the advice is good and seasonable. Once more -leave off flourishing and<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_296">{296}</a></span> come immediately to business, that I may know -what measures to take.</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>I am,<br /> -Yours, as you use me</i>,<br /> -W.H.<br /> -</p> - -<h3>ANSWER II.</h3> - -<p><i>SIR</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">Y</span>OU charge me with want of manners in the <i>University</i>. Now to convince -you that your accusation is groundless, frivolous and vexatious, I will -take no notice of the scurrilous reflections in your letter, but, as you -desire me, fall immediately to business.</p> - -<p>To sum them up in a few lines what you have bestow’d so many upon, you -tell me that a certain gentleman of my acquaintance, meaning myself, I -suppose, whom in your excess of charity, you believe to have a -looking-glass in his chamber, and a great deal of the like stuff, -borrow’d five pounds last <i>April</i> of one <i>Rebecca Blackman</i>, widow, and -spinster, living at the sign of the <i>Griffin</i> and <i>Red-lion</i> in -<i>Shoe-lane</i>, and has not paid her as he promis’d. Now, <i>Sir</i>, if I make -it appear to you that there is no such a thing as a widow <i>in rerum -natura</i>, or a <i>Griffin</i>, or a <i>Red-lion</i>; that <i>Shoe-lane</i> is an -equivocal word; and that ’tis impossible for a man that lives under the -evangelical dispensation to owe any such <i>heathenish sum</i> as five -pounds; I hope you’ll be brought to knock under the table, and own that -you have given me and yourself a great deal of unnecessary trouble.</p> - -<p><i>First of all</i>, I affirm, assert and maintain, that there is no such -thing as a widow in the universe; and thus I prove it. A <i>widow</i> is one -that laments and grieves for the loss of her husband; but how can you or -any man in <i>London</i> know that a woman really grieves? for shedding of -tears, and wearing of crape, are not sure signs of grief; consequently -then how can you be sure there is any such thing as a widow? And if so, -are not you an insufferable coxcomb to palm a widow upon a stranger, -that never did you any harm? Well, but suppose it were possible for a -man to know that a woman really grieves for the loss of her husband, -which proposition, let me tell you, <i>Heroboord Burgersdicius</i>, and the -whole stream of the <i>Dutch</i><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_297">{297}</a></span> commentators and <i>Peleponnesian</i> divines -positively deny; how shall we be able to find out this monster, and tell -where the place of her abode is? Why, say you, she lives at the sign of -the <i>Griffin</i> and <i>Red Lion</i> in <i>Shoe-lane</i>? Bless us! what a sad thing -it is to be troubled with a distemper’d brain! <i>Imprimis</i>, a <i>Griffin</i> -is a new <i>ens rationis</i>, only devis’d by the imagination, and is no -where to be found, no not in the deserts of <i>Arabia</i>, or the vast -forests of <i>Afric</i>; altho’ <i>Afric</i>, Sir, ever since the time of -<i>Eratosthenes</i> and <i>Strabo</i>, has been said continually to produce some -new monster: and as for a <i>Red Lion</i>, I defy you and all the attornies -in the kingdom to shew me one. <i>Theophrastus</i>, <i>Ælian</i>, <i>Dionysius</i>, -<i>Harmogistus de miraculis</i>, <i>Perogunius de brutis</i>, <i>Philopemen junior -de robusta natura</i>, and a hundred more of worth and credit, whom I have -read, and you never heard nam’d, either in <i>Westminster-hall</i>, or -<i>Westminster-abbey</i>. But since these are pagan authors, it may be you -will pretend they ought to have no weight with a christian, and I know -you will be damn’d before you will allow of any thing against your own -mammon; therefore I shall proceed to give you more modern accounts of -what has been remark’d in the most natural places for to expect monsters -in, and yet the devil of a <i>Red Lion</i> do they mention. <i>Don Gonsales</i> -gives us a particular of all the wonders, miracles and strange things in -the habitable part of the moon; <i>Mandevil</i>’s <i>Travels</i>, <i>Piuto</i>’s and -<i>de la Val</i>’s, the most fabulous of the poets, the most lying pilgrims -and extravagant historians, never dar’d to have the impudence to impose -so much upon mankind as to assert the being of a <i>Red Lion</i>.</p> - -<p>Now if human reason, experience in so many places, and no proof any -where can have place, as it ought to do with a lawyer, I hope here are -enough to convince you of your error; but if nothing under ocular -demonstration will satisfy you, and you are not at leisure to turn over -so many volumes, let me request you, worthy Sir, to take a step to the -tower, and if you don’t find what I say to be true, I promise you here -under my hand to give you a hundred pounds, <i>bonæ & legalis monetæ -Angliæ</i>, the next time I meet you.</p> - -<p>However, for peace sake, let us once admit, that <i>Griffins</i> and <i>Red -Lions</i>, are real things, and no fictions of the brain,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_298">{298}</a></span> as <i>Smeglesius</i> -hath evidently prov’d it, in what street or square, or lane, or alley, -is the abovemention’d Mrs. <i>Rebecca Blackman</i> to be found? Oh, cry you -in <i>Shoe-lane</i>. Come Sir, <i>Shoe-lane</i> is a fallacy which you must not -pretend to put upon a man that has taken his own degrees, and writes -himself <i>A. M.</i> don’t you know, that <i>dolus latet in universalibus</i>? -Whatever lane people walk in they must certaintly wear out shoe-leather; -and in whatever lane they wear out shoe-leather, that lane, in propriety -of speech, deserves and may challenge the name of <i>Shoe-lane</i>; -consequently then, every lane, not only in <i>London</i>, but in all his -majesty’s dominions, where the subjects of <i>England</i> walk, and wear out -shoe-leather, may properly be call’d <i>Shoe-lane</i>. Judge then whether -ever I shall be able to find out the true place where this widow lives -by the equivocal description you have given of it. As for my <i>Major</i>, I -defy you or any of your brethren in wicked parchment, to find out the -least hole in it. My <i>Minor</i> is as plain as the sun at noon-day; and you -may as well run your head against a brick-wall, as pretend to attack it; -and then the consequence must be good of course. I would take this -opportunity to shew the falshood and vanity of the remaining part of -your letter; but the bell-rings for supper: however, I shall take care -to do it next post; at which time you may certainly expect to hear -farther from</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Your most humble servant</i>, Q. Z.<br /> -</p> - -<h3>ANSWER III.</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> Fully demonstrated to you in my last, that there was no such thing as -a <i>Widow</i>; or suppose there was, that it was morally impossible for a -man to know it. After this, I proceeded to show, that your <i>Griffin</i> was -romantick, your <i>Red Lyon</i> fabulous; and that <i>Shoe-lane</i> by being every -lane, was consequently no lane at all. Now, <i>Sir</i>, I come to consider -the following part of your letter, where with your usual ingenuity and -good manners, you tell me I am indebted the sum of five pounds to the -widow abovemention’d; and I doubt not to lay open the vanity of this -allegation, as well as of those that preceded it. Sir, give me leave to -tell you, that ’tis impossible that—should owe<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_299">{299}</a></span> any such sum as five -pounds. Is it to be imagin’d that a—should trespass against a plain -positive express text of scripture? This is what the worst of our -adversaries, either papists or other sectaries, of what title or -denomination soever, would not have the impudence to charge us with. -Does not St. <i>Paul</i> positively say, <i>Owe no man any thing but love</i>? How -then can I owe this chimerical widow of your own making that heathenish -sum called five pounds? Indeed if there is any such person, I owe her a -great deal of love, as the text commands me; but as for five pounds, I -owe it her not: and for this, as I have already observ’d to you, I can -produce a plain positive text of scripture, which I hope you will not be -so wicked as to deny.</p> - -<p>In short, <i>Sir</i>, I am afraid that the law has discompos’d your brain, -and this I conclude from your incoherent citations of <i>Latin</i>, your -raving of <i>Griffins</i> and <i>Red Lions</i>, of <i>Widows</i> and <i>five pounds</i>. -Therefore, tho’ I am wholly a stranger to you, yet, as you are a native -of this kingdom, I heartily wish your cure, and shall do whatever lies -in my power to effect it, for which reason I desire you to take notice -of the following advice. It being now spring time, at which season -according to the observation of the learned <i>Zarabella</i> and -<i>Ciacconius</i>, the humours begin to ferment and float in all human -bodies, I would advise you to correct the saline particles, with which I -perceive your blood is overcharg’d, with good wholsome nettle-broth and -watergruel every morning alternately; but take care to put no currants -or sugar into your watergruel, because, as the judicious <i>Frenelius</i>, in -has <i>Diatriba de usu</i>, affirms, currants excite choler, and sugar has an -ill effect upon the diaphragm, glandula pinealis. Then, Sir, thrice a -week at least, refrigerate your intestines with good salutary clysters, -and take some eighteen ounces of blood away about two hours before the -clyster is administred to you. Above all let me conjure you to forbear -stuff’d beef, salt fish, pepper and hot spices, and what is full as -pernicious as pepper and hot spices, the reading of any <i>Latin</i> authors, -for fear they should raise a new rebellion in the humours: sage and -butter, with a glass or two of clarify’d whey moderately taken in a -morning, may be of singular use. Go to bed early, and rise betimes. If -you live up to these directions, I do not<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_300">{300}</a></span> doubt but you’ll be your own -man again in a little time. Having no farther interest in all this than -only effecting your cure, I persuade my self you will be so much your -own friend as to follow the advice of</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Your humble Servant</i>,<br /> -Q. Z.<br /> -</p> - -<h3>LETTER III.</h3> - -<p><i>SIR</i>,</p> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">S</span>INCE you were so wonderfully kind in your last letter, as out of your -great liberality to honour me with some of your own directions, I am -resolv’d not to be behind-hand with you in point of courtesy, and -therefore recommend the following rules to your consideration.</p> - -<p>In the first place, I crave leave to inform you, that syllogisms and -sophistry pay no debts; That as old birds are not to be caught with -chaff, so a lawyer is not to be imposed upon by thin frothy arguments; -and that <i>Aristotle</i>, let him make never so great a figure in the -schools, has no manner of authority in <i>Westminster-hall</i>, where I can -assure you they won’t take his <i>ipse dixit</i> for a groat.</p> - -<p>Secondly, I would advise you not to have so great an opinion of your own -parts, as to despise the rest of the world, and think to palm any of -your little banters upon them. ’Tis enough in all conscience, I think, -that you take the liberty to dumfound us with your <i>Fathers</i> and -<i>Councils</i> in the pulpit, which we of the laity are forced to take upon -content; and therefore you may spare them elsewhere.</p> - -<p>Thirdly, and lastly, When you run in any one’s debt, ’tis my counsel, -and I give it you for nothing, that you would take care to see the party -satisfy’d in good current money, for fear a wicked <i>Moabite</i> should -compel you to it, which, between friends, will not be much for your -reputation. As this is the last letter you are like to receive from me, -I make it once more my request to you to observe the contents of it: for -I am not at leisure to trifle any longer with you: otherwise a -stone-doublet is the word, and wars must ensue, which every good -christian ought to prevent, if it lies in his power. I am, unless you -give me further provocation,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Your Humble Servant</i>, W. H.<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_301">{301}</a></span></p> - -<p>P. S. <i>Your old friend the widow, is sorry to hear you have made so -familiar with her, as to call her being in question; as likewise that of -her</i> Griffin <i>and</i> Red Lion. <i>As for your love, having no occasion for -it at present, she desires you to bestow it elsewhere; but is resolv’d, -notwithstanding all your learned quirks and quiddities, to get her five -pounds again; and when she has it in her pocket, for your sake she’ll -never trust it with a logician, that would</i> ergo <i>her out of what is her -own</i>.</p> - -<h3>ANSWER IV.</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">I</span> Received your last, for which I return you my hearty thanks, and am -entirely of your opinion, that old birds are not to be caught with -chaff; I find, Sir, you are a great admirer of old proverbs, and I -commend you for it, for a great deal of morality and wholsome knowledge -is to be pick’d out of them: besides, Sir, they are like the Common law -of <i>England</i>, and derive their authority from usage and custom. Now I am -talking of proverbs, there is one comes into my head at present, which I -desire you to ruminate or chew the cud upon. In short, ’tis <i>Birds of a -feather flock together</i>, which is effectually and literally fulfill’d -when an attorney and a pickpocket are in the same company.</p> - -<p>I am likewise of opinion, worthy Sir, that what you say of <i>Aristotle</i>’s -making none of the best figures in <i>Westminster-hall</i>, may be true; for -how can that plodding animal call’d a philosopher, expect civil quarter -from the sons of noise and clamour? But by the by, Sir, I must take the -freedom to tell you, that some of his friends here take it very ill, -that you the black guard of <i>Westminster-hall</i> will not take his word -for a groat. Sir, that diminutive contemptible piece of money a groat, -Sir, three of which go to the making up of that important sum, -denominated by the vulgar a shilling. Is it not very barbarous and -inhuman, that <i>Aristotle</i>, formerly tutor to the greatest monarch in the -universe, (when I say the greatest monarch in the universe, I neither -mean <i>Bajazet</i>, nor <i>Tamerlane</i>, nor <i>Scanderberg</i>, nor <i>Pipin</i>, nor yet -the <i>French</i> king, but <i>Alexander the great</i>) whose <i>ipse dixit</i> would -have formerly gone more current than our present <i>Exchequer</i> notes, or -<i>Malt</i> tickets, in any tavern, inn, or victualling-house,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_302">{302}</a></span> between the -<i>Hellespont</i> and the <i>Ganges</i>, for a thousand pounds upon occasion: is -it not barbarous and inhuman, I say, that this same <i>Aristotle</i> should -not be trusted for a groat in <i>Westminster-hall</i>? That language one -would hardly have expected either from <i>Goth</i>, <i>Vandal</i>, or <i>Hun</i>, but -much less from a person of your civility and learning.</p> - -<p>But alas! Sir, <i>Ætas parentum pejor avis</i>; we live in the fag-end of a -most degenerate ungrateful age, that has no regard to <i>Greek</i> or -<i>Latin</i>. <i>Oh tempora & mores!</i> was the complaint of a great virtuoso two -thousand years ago, which we have but too much reason to renew now. Oh, -<i>Aristotle, Aristotle</i>! that I should ever live to see thy venerable -name in so much contempt, that any one belonging to <i>Westminster-hall</i>, -should have the impudence to say, he will not trust thee for a groat! -<i>Ultra Sauromatas fugere hinc libet.</i> I dare swear, that even in -<i>Muscovy</i> and <i>Poland</i>, none of the most hospitable countries in the -world, thou mayst at any time take a good dinner and a gallon of brandy -upon thy <i>Entilechia</i> and <i>Actus perspecui</i>, and yet in -<i>Westminster-Hall</i>, the most enlighten’d hall of the most enlighten’d -city of <i>Christendom</i>, thy <i>ipse dixit</i> in so much vogue formerly with -the <i>Thomists</i> and <i>Scotists</i>, the <i>Nominalists</i> and <i>Realists</i>, should -not pass for a groat! So much, <i>Sir</i>, by way of answer, to <i>Aristotle</i> -and <i>Westminster-Hall</i>, <i>ipse dixit</i>, and a groat.</p> - -<p>What you say in a following paragraph concerning the wicked <i>Moabite</i> -and the <i>Stone Doublet</i>, is very picquant and ingenious: for, Sir, -reading Mr. <i>Hobbs</i>’s chapter about <i>Concatenation of Thought</i>, I find -there is a great connection between the <i>Moabite</i> and <i>Stone doublet</i>; -and some of the modern itineraries inform us, that stone doublets are in -mighty request with the people of those countries to this very day; and -the physical reason they assign for it, is, because stone doublets are -very refrigerating and alexpharmick, which undoubtedly is a great -refreshment in so hot a climate, as that where the wicked <i>Moabite</i> -lived.</p> - -<p>But, <i>Sir</i>, in lieu of the advice, which, out of your great bounty and -liberality, you were pleas’d to give me for nothing, be pleas’d to -accept of the following character, which I give myself the trouble to -transcribe out of an ancient MS. in the <i>Cotton-Library</i>, suppos’d to be -written by the famous <i>Junius</i>, who for his great skill in the ori<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_303">{303}</a></span>ental -languages, acquir’d the sirname of <i>Patricius</i>; and this character, -unless I am mistaken in my mathematicks, will give you a lively idea of -a certain beast you may perhaps be acquainted with.</p> - -<p>An attorney is one that lives by the undoing of his neighbours, as -surgeons do by broken heads and claps, and like judges that always bring -rain with them to the assizes, is sure to bring mischief with him -wherever he comes. He’s an animal bred up by the corruption of the law, -nurs’d up in discord and contention, and has a particular cant to -himself, by which he terrifies the poor country people who worship him -as the <i>Indians</i> do the devil, for fear he should mischief ’em. He is a -constant resorter to fairs and markets, and has a knack to improve the -least quarrel into a law-suit. He talks as familiarly of my lord chief -justice as if he had known him from his cradle, and threatens all that -incur his displeasure with leading them a jaunt to <i>Westminster-hall</i>. -If his advice be ask’d upon the most insignificant trifle, he nods his -head, twirls his pen in his ear, and cries ’twill bear a noble action; -and when he has empty’d the poor wretch’s pocket, advises him to make up -the matter, drink a merry cup with his adversary, and be friends. He -affects to be thought a man of business, and quotes statutes as -fiercely, as if he had read over <i>Keble</i> and got him by heart. The -catchpole is his constant companion, by the same token they are as -necessary to one another, as a midwife to a bawd, or an apothecary to a -grave physician. While he lives, he is a perpetual persecutor of all the -country about him; but fattens by being cursed, as they say camomile -grows by being trod upon. At last, the devil serves an execution upon -his person, hurries him to his own quarters, in whose clutches I leave -him.</p> - -<p>If this character may be of any service to you, I shall heartily -rejoice, it being my highest ambition to approve my self,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Your most</i>, &c. Q. Z.<br /> -</p> - -<h3>ANSWER V.</h3> - -<p class="nind"><span class="letra">N</span>AY, <i>Sir</i>, since you are so peremptory and all that, I have sent you my -last conclusive answer, and am resolv’d to be plagu’d with you no -longer. Hoping therefore that your worship is in good health, as your -humble servant is at this present writing, this comes to let you know -(nay don’t startle, I beseech you) that I am fairly<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_304">{304}</a></span> and honestly dead -(oh! fy, Sir, why should you be discompos’d at so small a matter as that -is) in short, dead to all intents and purposes as a door-nail; or if -that won’t serve your turn, as dead as <i>Methusalah</i>, or any of the -patriarchs before the flood. And because, Sir, I am in a very good -humour at present, and somewhat dispos’d to be merry (which you’ll say -is somewhat odd in a dead man) and besides having a mighty respect for a -person of your worth and gravity, I will let you know what distemper I -dy’d of, and give you the whole history of my illness from <i>Dan</i> to -<i>Beersheba</i>. Upon the <i>20th</i> of <i>July</i> last, old stile, I was invited to -a christning in a certain village in <i>Lincolnshire</i>, where I had the -honour of being vicar; and by a strange fatality was over-persuaded to -eat some custard, which is the most pernicious aliment in the world, but -especially in the dog-days. Since I have been in the <i>Elysian Fields</i>, -meeting with <i>Galen</i> and <i>Dioscorides</i> the other day, I told them my -case, and both of ’em told me that custard had done my business. <i>Galen</i> -whisper’d me in the ear, and told me that whatever sham stories the -historians had palm’d upon the world <i>Trajan</i> got his death by nothing -but eating of custard at <i>Antioch</i>, and mention’d two or three other -eminent persons that had their heels tript up by that pernicious food. -<i>Dioscorides</i> added farther, that custard was destructive of the -intellect, and conjur’d me that the next time I writ to any of my -acquaintance in <i>London</i>, I would desire them to present his most humble -service to my <i>Lord Mayor</i> and court of <i>Aldermen</i>, and advise ’em as -from him to refrain from custard, because it obnubilated the -understanding, and was detrimental to the memory. So much by way of -digression, but now, Sir, to proceed in the history of my illness: this -eating of custard first of all gave me a cachexy, and ’twas my -misfortune that there was no brandy to be had in the house, for in all -probability a cogue of true orthodox <i>Nantz</i>, would have corrected the -crudity of the custard. This cachexy in twelve hours turn’d to a <i>Dolor -alvi</i>, that to a <i>Peripneumonia</i> in the <i>Diaphragm</i>, and that to an -<i>Epyema</i> in the <i>Glandula Pinealis</i>. Upon this a hundred other -distempers came pouring upon me like thunder and lightning, for you know -when a man is once going, <i>down with him</i> is the word; that very fairly -dispatch’d me in four days, and so I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_305">{305}</a></span> dy’d without a doctor to help to -dispatch me, or an attorney to make my will. A little before I troop’d -off, I desir’d my parishoners to bury me under the great church-spout -which accordingly they did, I thank ’em for’t, and upon every shower of -rain I find a refreshment by it; for you must know that when I was -living, I was very thirsty in my nature, and abounded in adust cholerick -humours.</p> - -<p>I believe, Sir, you might have writ to a thousand and a thousand dead -men, who would never have given themselves the trouble to answer your -letters, or have been so communicative of their secrets as you have -found me; but, Sir, I scorn to act under-board. And if this don’t -satisfy all your doubts, I can only wish I had you here with me, to give -you farther conviction.</p> - -<p>And now Sir, let me desire you to put your hand to your heart, and -consider calmly and sedately with yourself, whether it be not illegal as -well as barbarous, to disturb the repose of the dead, and persecute them -in their very graves? You that are so full of your <i>Cases</i> and your -<i>Precedents</i>, tell me what <i>Case</i> or <i>Precedent</i> you can alledge to -justify so unrighteous a <i>Procedure</i>? Is it not a known maxim in law, -that death puts a stop to all <i>Processes</i> whatsoever, and that when a -man has once paid the great debt of nature, he has compounded for all -the rest? How then can you make me amends for the injuries you have done -me, and the great charges you have put me to? For upon the faith and -honour of a dead man, the very passage of your letters to this -subterranean world, has cost me above five pounds, the pretended sum you -charge me with. However, if Heaven will forgive you, for my part I do; -and to show you, that after so many horrid provocations I am still in -charity with you, I remain,</p> - -<p class="r"> -<i>Your defunct Friend and Servant</i>,<br /> -Q. Z.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="hang"> -Feb. 5. <i>From the</i><br /> -Elysian-Fields.<br /> -</p> - -<p>P. S. <i>All the news that I can send you from this part of the world, is, -that we are troubled with none of your pofession here, which is no small -part of our happiness, I assure you; and, upon a strict enquiry, I find, -that not one</i> Attorney <i>for these 1500 years, has been so impudent, as -to give St.</i> Peter <i>the trouble of using his keys</i>.</p> - -<p class="fint">The End of the <i>Letters</i> from the <span class="smcap">Dead</span> to the <span class="smcap">Living</span>.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_306">{306}</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><a id="Dialogues_of_the_Dead"></a>Dialogues of the <span class="smcap">Dead</span>.<br /><br /> -In Imitation of <i><span class="ltspc">LUCIAN</span></i>.</h2> - -<hr /> -<p class="c">The Scene <span class="smcap">Hell</span>.</p> -<hr /> - -<p class="c"><i>The Trial of</i> <span class="smcap">Cuckolds</span>.</p> - -<p class="nind"><i>Lucifer.</i> <span class="bigg">H</span>OLD! porter, shut the gates of this our angust court, that -we may not be thus throng’d. Let no more come in, ’till we have clear’d -the bench of these numbers we have before us already.</p> - -<p><i>Porter.</i> Mighty emperor, your commands shall be obey’d.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Now, my noble lords, set we ourselves to search and examine -what of late years brings daily such gluts and spring-tides of souls to -our infernal mansions, ’specially at this time, when neither war, -famine, nor plague, are abroad in the upper world, or at least in that -part of it from whence I observe most of this gang arrive; <i>Europe</i> I -mean: if there were war, ’twould be no wonder so many were damn’d; the -liberties of the sword surprize enough in their sins to throng our -courts of justice: nor is the plague without advantages for us that way; -the few that have spiritual relief, in such contagious and -quickly-destroying distempers, encrease our crop: and the general -cruelty of mankind is such, that in famine, those that have will keep -for themselves and their dogs, and let the rest of their own species -perish, without so much as a pitying look: and this makes many atheists -in their wants, and does that, without our instigation, which we could -not perswade <i>Job</i> to do, that is, <i>Curse God, and die</i>.</p> - -<p>But, my lords, when none of these, our loyal vassals, are abroad, ’tis -not strange that I am to seek in the cause of this great concourse at -our tribunal; and, therefore,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_307">{307}</a></span> that virtue, for want of reward and due -praise, may not slacken, we will examine to what industrious friend we -owe this unexpected success; wherefore, you minor devils and -under-officers of our court, bring them in order to the bar, and let no -devil of honour, that has past that inferior office of touching the -uncleanness of humanity, defile himself with too near an approach to any -of them.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang">[<i>Here several lacquey-devils and porter-devils, with the rest of -the mob of hell, bring on the first band to the bar in</i> Italian -<i>garbs</i>.]</p></div> - -<p class="nind">Speak, criminal, whence thou art? Of what nation, quality, or condition -in the world? And what’s the happy cause of thy coming hither?</p> - -<p><i>Ghost.</i> First, Signor, adjust some points in dispute, which highly -concern the honour of our country, and the decorum of good breeding, and -I shall, for all this noble train that follow me, answer to your -devilship’s queries. Coming to the confines of your flourishing empire, -we were met by some of the officers of this honourable assembly, who -gave us safe conduct to your royal presence: but just now, entring into -these lifts, confronted us a company of paltry scoundrels, and press’d -for precedence, swearing, That they were <i>Englishmen</i>, and ought to take -place of all that were damn’d for cuckolds. We urg’d our title in -heraldry, that we ought to take place of all nations, being the -successors of the once masters of the universe; but they were deaf to -reason here, as well as in the world, and one swore <i>d—me</i>, <i>bl—d</i> and -<i>z—ns</i>, another, oaths all round the compass; and in this volly of -mouth-grenadoes, one very demure gentleman press’d, by <i>Yea</i> and <i>Nay</i>, -that we were in the wrong; and had it not been for this honourable devil -here, that’s a friend to our nation, we had been worm’d out of our -birth-right by the arse and refuse of the world: <i>Et penitus toto -divisos orbe Britannos</i>, as our noble country-man has it, Dogs shut out -of doors from all the rest of mankind. I therefore appeal to this thrice -excellent senate, and you the <i>right and most reverend doge</i>, to redress -this affront.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_308">{308}</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Hey-day? What, has not hell yet brought you to your senses, -that you can think we devils are such sots to trouble our heads about -the ridiculous whims of ceremonious mankind? But since they were so -obstreperous to make a disturbance in hell, they shall be the last -heard: Therefore proceed to the question.</p> - -<p><i>Ghost.</i> An’t please your thrice puissant devilship, noble signor, I was -coming to that point: Therefore, to be brief, (for I hate prolixity) I -am, Sir, an <i>Italian</i> by nation, and a noble-man by quality. My own -vanity, and ill chance, give me a pretty wife, and my honour made me -chuse her of an illustrious house; but she prov’d lewd and prodigal, the -natural issue of beauty and high birth; my dotage on her charms hath -bred in me such a fond, blind, uxorious vice (which my countrymen are -seldom guilty of) that I was almost ruin’d before I found I was -betray’d: but travelling towards <i>Genoa</i>, I met the spark, my pretended -friend, on the road to my dwelling; I seemingly pass’d on my way, but in -the night return’d, unexpected, and surpriz’d ’em all, and, therefore, -as my honour bid me, I murder’d him, and bak’d him in a pye, and -(ingeniously in my revenge) swore she should eat no other food but her -lover: the crust she a while did eat, but one day, having prepar’d a -<i>stelleto</i>, at supper she dispatch’d me thus to your thrice noble and -illustrious devilship.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Very well! and worthy thou art of such a punishment, that -could’st not forgive beauty a gentle slip of that nature thou thyself -hadst so often transgress’d. Speak the next.</p> - -<p><i>2 Ghost.</i> I am also an <i>Italian</i>; and observing a gentleman often -ogling my wife, which she did not a little encourage, I sent a <i>bravo</i> -to dispatch him; (for we <i>Italians</i> do not love to look revenge in the -face ourselves) but the rogue of a <i>bravo</i>, won by my wife, and by a -great sum of money of my adversary’s, comes back to me, and cuts my -throat. And this, most noble signor, is most of our cases; our wives -have given us the casting throw for damnation.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> You, the rest of the malignant train, is this true, that your -wives have sent you hither?<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_309">{309}</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Omnes.</i> Yes, yes; we have all had wives.—— All the plagues of <i>Egypt</i> -let us undergo, but no wives, we most humbly beseech your most noble -devilship.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Prayers are in vain; transgressions are to be punish’d by the -same way they are committed; nor must you be your own carvers here in -hell, gentlemen. Away with ’em, down into cuckolds-cave, ten thousand -fathom deeper than the whore-masters, and next the keeping-cullies, <i>and -let each have two wives to torment him</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Omnes.</i> O wives! wives!</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>They are removed off, and others brought on.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Proceed to the next band.</p> - -<p>Say, what were you in the world, and what dear sin brought you to this -place?</p> - -<p><i>Spanish Ghost.</i> Great prince of darkness, and lord of the greatest part -of mankind, may it please your catholick majesty, I was, by my worldly -state and condition, a <i>Spanish</i> grandee, of the first magnitude, rich -as fortune and an indulgent prince well could make me, (for your -devilship must know, our king is but a sheep for us to fleece when we -please, which we do in all places, letting his soldiers and inferior -servants starve) happy, ’till too much success was my undoing; for by -that I gain’d the lady I lov’d, and so in one unhappy word was married. -’Tis tedious to repeat the injuries I receiv’d from the ungrateful fair, -who, after all, to make room for another, sent me away (like an -<i>Italian</i> as she was) in all my sins, with a poisonous draught.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Is the same your fate, you, the rest of this besotted crew, -that have met with just punishment from one part of yourselves, for -preferring your private grandeur before the service of your king and -honour of your country?</p> - -<p><i>Omnes.</i> Yes, yes; thirst of honour and wealth made us cheat the king; -and drew down the judgment of wedlock; and that brought us to this long -home and fiend of matrimony.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Away with these, and drive ’em out of their snails pace.</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>A tatter’d Ghost comes forward.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><i>Ghost.</i> Just may be their punishment, most noble devil; but why should -I be condemn’d to wincing, who was so far from cheating the king, that I -could never get my due<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_310">{310}</a></span> of him, and being a gentleman born, never did -any thing below my extraction, and have gone without a meal, many a -time, rather than degrade myself to get one? And tho’ I could arrive to -it no other ways, yet kept up my part still in stately walk, and my -wallet, tho’ I had no bread for either, or a shirt to my back.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Since thy own folly made thee marry, ’tis now too late to -prate, you must away with the rest.</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>They are carry’d off, and others brought on.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>Bring the next to the bar: declare the cause of your deserv’d damnation. -My life on’t these dapper sparks are in for cakes and ale too; the very -air of their faces speaks them cuckolds.</p> - -<p><i>French Ghost.</i> Sire, may it please your most victorious majesty, -<i>Vostre Esclaro</i> is a <i>Frenchman</i> by birth, and a leader of the most -christian king’s most magnanimous forces; and whilst I, with my -commilitones, was reaping lawrels in the field of renown, and engaging -the enemy abroad, my lady wife (as most of our <i>French</i> wives will, for -having once tasted the sweets of love, they’ll ne’er have done ’till -they have undone us one way or other) my lady wife, I say, was engaging -with a friend at home, who very genteely gave her the pox, which I, at -my return, like a gay cavalier of a husband, receiv’d of her as genteely -without rebuke, it being no matter of scandal with us. But -madamoiselle’s pox proving a very <i>virago</i>, gave me damn’d thrust in -<i>quarto</i>, and sent me hither in <i>decimo sexto</i>, <i>monseigneur</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> You, the rest, speak.</p> - -<p><i>Omnes.</i> We are all <i>Frenchmen</i>, and therefore you need not doubt the -cause, the pox and our wives, <i>ma foy</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Away with them: they’ll make a fire by themselves, or will -serve instead of small-coal to kindle others; for they are half burnt -out already. Place ’em next the <i>Spaniards</i>. The next there speak.</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>They are carry’d off, more brought on.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><i>German Ghost.</i> I am, by nation, a <i>German</i>, and, by damnation, a -husband, a cuckold, or what you please; for I hate to mince the matter -with a long preamble, when a word to the wise is enough.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Very well; you, the rest, speak.</p> - -<p><i>Omnes.</i> Ev’n so, an’t please your imperial devilship;<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_311">{311}</a></span> whilst we drank -and fought against the <i>Turks</i>, our wives whor’d with the <i>Christians</i>. -O wives! wives!</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Away with these into the hottest, for their carcasses are so -soak’d with liquor, that they’ll put out an ordinary fire. You, the -next, speak.</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>They are carry’d off, others brought on.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><i>Dutch Ghost.</i> Gads sacrament, I am a member, or rather two members, of -the <i>Hogen-Mogen</i> common-wealth of <i>Europe</i>. Two members, I say; for I -am a member governed, and a member governing; for the people with us, -and in all such common-wealths, are both subjects and masters, govern -laws, and govern’d by the same.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Your country’s name then is contradiction. Is it not?</p> - -<p><i>Ghost.</i> Contradiction to monarchy, tho’ set up by some monarchs to -spite others. But to your question, old tarpaulin: Whilst I was getting -money and drinking punch and brandy, to hearten me for the noble combats -of snick or snee, or some illustrious sea-fight, or some generous -undertaking at the island of <i>Formosa</i>, (for a true <i>Dutchman</i> never -fights without his head full of brandy) my wife made it fly like -<i>sooterkins</i> at home; at last she made me turn bankrupt, and cheat my -creditors, and so dying, I came with a full sail and brisk gale into -your port.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> You, the rest, speak.</p> - -<p><i>Omnes.</i> For our wives, O <i>Sooterkin Hagan</i>, our wives, whose -broad-built bulk the boisterous billows bear.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Away with them into the den of anarchy and confusion, below the -founders of <i>Babel</i>.</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p class="hang">[<i>They are carry’d off, and abundance of</i> English <i>bands come -forward</i>.</p></div> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Numerous crew! answer me; What has brought you into this -kingdom; and what were you in the world?</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>A ghost of a beau speaks to another of the same feather.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><i>1 Beau’s Gh.</i> D—— me, <i>Jack</i>, didst ever hear so silly and -impertinent a question? As if marriage was not the only cause of -damnation.</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>Aside.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><i>2 Beau’s Gh.</i> R——t me, <i>Ned</i>, as thou say’st, I never heard a -country justice ask more <i>mal à propos</i>; but the devil’s an ass, and so -let him pass.</p> - -<p class="c"> -<i>The first of the first band answers the Devil.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>I am an <i>Englishman</i>, who, after I had been a notorious<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_312">{312}</a></span> cuckold, was -perswaded by my wife to fight the man that made me so, and was fairly -kill’d for satisfaction, as all this band that follows me were; and we -are damn’d for <i>fools</i> as well as <i>cuckolds</i>.</p> - -<p><i>Omnes.</i> ’Tis true, <i>honour</i> and <i>wedlock</i> have been our ruin.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Away with them into <i>fools paradise</i>, below the -keeping-cullies, as the more <i>unpardonable monsters</i>.</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>They are carry’d off, and as the next come in,<br /> -the Beaux speak.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><i>1 Be. Gh.</i> D—— me, <i>Ned</i>, didst ever know such fools as they, that -could not be satisfy’d to live <i>cuckolds</i>, but must die so too, with a -witness,</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>Aside</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<p><i>2 Be. Gh.</i> R——t me, <i>Jack</i>, if ever I was of that fighting humour; -nor did I ever fight but once, and then forc’d to it; but my <i>stays</i> -sav’d my life, and I wore my glove that was cut in the encounter as long -as ’twould hang on my hand: therefore, tho’ I knew Sir <i>Roger Allfight</i> -kiss’d my <i>wife</i>, yet as long as I could sup at the <i>Rose</i>, and break -the drawer’s head if he made not haste, or brought <i>bad wines</i>, or so, -’gad I let him kiss her and welcome.</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>Aside.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><i>1 Be. Gh.</i> S——k me, <i>Ned</i>, I was always of thy mind, as long as I -could flutter abroad in my glass coach, have my diamond snuff-box full -of <i>Orangeree</i> or <i>Roderigo</i>, <i>&c.</i> D—— me if I car’d a rush who rode -in my saddle. But mark that formal coxcomb now going to speak: lord! how -fine a thing it is to be a man of wit, and what a singular figure he -makes! but hark, old grey-beard begins.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Speak you the next.</p> - -<p><i>Ghost.</i> I was a man of quality, of the same country; but my fortune -being, in my youth, run out, in <i>France</i> for breeding, and in <i>England</i> -by keeping, I thought in my riper years to retrieve all by marrying a -<i>city heiress</i>; but she had by nature, so much of the mother in her, -that by intriguing and equipage she soon brought me into a worse -condition than before: so that, as my last refuge, I was forc’d to turn -<i>Plotter</i>, and being discover’d, was lopp’d shorter by the head, as all -this honourable tribe that follows me were.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Away with ’em. [<i>They are carry’d off, and, as the next are -bringing to the bar, the beaux discourse again.</i><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_313">{313}</a></span></p> - -<p><i>1 Beau. Gh.</i> D—me, <i>Ned</i>, this was a worse fool than the other.</p> - -<p><i>2 Beau. Gh.</i> R—t me, <i>Jack</i>, <i>vous avez raison</i>: for I always lov’d to -keep myself out of the <i>jeopardy of action</i>: <i>Jack</i>, I’d talk treason, -or so; sort myself with the disaffected, and blow up the coals of their -<i>discontent</i>, or so: but for <i>engagements, covenants, conditions, and -unlawful assemblies</i>, ’gad they must pardon me.</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>Aside.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><i>1 Beau. Gh.</i> Z—ns, <i>Ned</i>, thou and I were always one man; I could rail -at the magistrates, pen a lampoon, or, at least, convey it to <i>Julian</i>, -give penny pies to the mob to make a noise, ridicule the transactions of -the government, and give squinting reflections on the king, that was my -<i>ne plus ultra</i>; for all that I can see, we are in the best case still, -<i>Ned</i>. But now our band advances, let us press forward, or our cause may -fail.</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>Aside.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><i>2 Beau. Gh.</i> Hell and damnation, all’s lost; for look yonder, that -conceited coxcomb, my lord <i>Flippant</i>, presuming on his quality, has -taken upon him to be our chief, and spokes-man.</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>Aside.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><i>1 Beau. Gh.</i> S—nk me, <i>Ned</i>, so say I: I never knew a conceited man, -but he was a fool; but let’s hear, we may put in an appeal, or a writ of -error afterward, or award judgment, if our cause be ill handled.</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>Aside.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p>O! what an admirable thing it is to be a man of parts!</p> - -<p><i>Luc.</i> Speak, thou fluttering fool, for the rest of this thy -peacock-gang.</p> - -<p><i>L. Flippant’s Ghost.</i> D—me, Sir, I have been a man of the town, or -rather a man of wit, and have been confess’d a beau, and admitted into -the family of the rakehellonians: and, d—me, Sir, I think I am much -under that dilemma at present.—— I was learn’d in the ingenious art of -dumfounding; a wit I said, dear devil, I was, and it lay as a -gentleman’s shou’d, most in lewdness and atheism. I married in jest, or -a frolick, which you please; but as I thought a fortune, (got by -cullies) I was made a cuckold in earnest; tho’ that was no grievance to -me, since it only made me in the mode: nor cou’d I expect any better, -since I knew she was a whore before I had her; but ’twas with my -betters, and so I was contented her money should pass currant with me, -where her reputation would not: but sharping was her best quality, and -gaming her greatest<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_314">{314}</a></span> patrimony; and she set up a basset table, and -whilst I was at the groom-porter’s throwing <i>a-main</i>, she would be sure -to set me, at home, a pair of horns. I seldom coming to my apartment, -but I met some cully nobleman or other; but that which was worst, she -still had a knave in her mouth, or an alpue in her tail, that carry’d -away all the gain: whilst I was at <i>Will</i>’s coffee-house, fast’ned in -controversy or poetick rhapsodies, though I had neither religion nor -learning, she was sure of me ’till play-time and then too; for at five, -come, <i>Dick</i>, says I (to a brother of the orange and cravat string) -d—me, let’s us to the play: r—t me, says he, ’tis a dull one: d—me, -says I, I value not the play, my province lies in the boxes, ogling my -half-crown away, or running from side-box to side-box, to the inviting -incognito’s in black faces, or else wittily to cry out aloud in the pit, -<i>&c.</i> <i>Bough</i>, or <i>Boyta</i>, and then be prettily answer’d by the rest of -the wits in the same note, like musical instruments tuned to the same -pitch. And whilst I was thus generously employ’d, my consort had her -retreat of quality, to be provided of what I fail’d in. From the play to -the <i>Rose</i>, where we drank ’till four, or break of day; from thence to -bed, where we lay ’till four or five again, so <i>in infinitum</i>.</p> - -<p><i>1 Beau. Gh.</i> D—me, <i>Jack</i>, did’st ever hear a sot spoil a good tale in -the telling so?</p> - -<p><i>2 Beau. Gh.</i> Z—ns, <i>Ned</i>, we’re undone thro’ this scoundrel’s -ignorance and nonsense: shall I speak?</p> - -<p><i>1 Beau. Gh.</i> R—t me, if thou wilt, thou may’st: but I am sure I could -make more of it: for tho’ thou art a man of wit, and a good judge of -poetry, and all that, r—t me, <i>Jack</i>, oratory is thy blind side.</p> - -<p><i>2 Beau. Gh.</i> D—me, Sir, don’t put upon your friends; for have I been -bred at the university, and think myself as good a judge as you or any -man alive: and, Sir, were we out of the court, I believe you would not -thus have abus’d me.</p> - -<p><i>1 Beau. Gh.</i> Nay, D—me, <i>Ned</i>, now thou art unjust to thy friend: r—t -me, to quarrel for’t, I acknowledg’d thee a man of parts, <i>Ned</i>, and all -that.</p> - -<p><i>Luc.</i> Away with the gay sots, and because I have no plagues in hell -equal to their deserts, let them be a torment to one another. Away with -them.</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>As they go off, the Beaus discourse.</i><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_315">{315}</a></span><br /> -</p> - -<p><i>1 Beau. Gh.</i> Well, <i>Ned</i>, shall I speak before it is too late: you may -depend on my excellence in oratory, ’tis my talent; I never writ -billet-deux in my life, but it prevail’d with the cruel nymph: and do -you think I can’t with the devil? I’ll perswade him out of his seven -senses, man? d—me, I’ll make it appear to him that he is a god, and all -that, man: r—t me, <i>Ned</i>, be not obstinate.</p> - -<p><i>2 Beau. Gh.</i> Z—ns, Sir, no more of that strain. Sir, you’re a coxcomb. -What doubt my universal parts?</p> - -<p><i>Luc.</i> You with such a busy face, speak, what are you?</p> - -<p><i>Here abundance of Cits, in various dresses, come forward.</i></p> - -<p><i>Cit. Ghost.</i> An’t please your infernal majesty, I was a right -worshipful citizen of <i>London</i>, that famous <i>Metropolis</i> of <i>England</i>, -and I have born all the honourable employments of the same, ev’n to -sheriff and lord-mayor: I was long of the court of aldermen, and one of -the chief spokesmen of the common-council: I made speeches, and penn’d -most of the addresses. But ’tis not for being a cuckold alone, or that I -was feign to cheat so many to maintain my wife’s pride and luxury, that -I am damn’d with this right worshipful crew here; for those are crimes -common to the rest of our brother-citizens, as well as us; but we were -so mad to marry second wives, and for their sakes turn our children out -of doors, (after we had bred them up in all the ease and luxury of the -age) to seek their fortunes in the wide world, and left our estates to -our wives at our death, who will be sure to bestow them on some silly -hectoring spendthrift bully of <i>Alsatia</i> or other, and let the children, -begot of our own bodies, starve.</p> - -<p><i>Luc.</i> Away with that rank gang of fools, as well as knaves, who cou’d -so much forget nature and its necessary and known laws, as to cast off -their own off-spring, to give away their substance to those that will -not only misuse it, but contemn the memory of them that were their -benefactors, with so great an injury to nature.</p> - -<p><i>2 Cit.</i> May it please your most noble devilship to hear me, before you -give judgment upon us, and I don’t doubt, but I shall seriously, offer -such reasons of our behaviour in that matter, as shall sufficiently move -that ignominy your devilship was pleas’d to cast upon us. First, then, -tho’ it be true, that upon my marriage, I agreed with my second spouse -to turn all my children out of doors, yet I<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_316">{316}</a></span> did it not ’till she or I -had found some cause so to do; for some of them were undutiful, and -others put tricks upon me, (as my good wife said) and others were lewd -and extravagant, and some self-will’d; so that I deserted none of ’em -without some fault. If they were undutiful, was I to blame to punish ’em -for it? Or was it my duty to keep and maintain them, after they were of -sufficient bigness to prog for themselves? The birds and beasts take -care of their young no longer, than ’till they are able to care for -themselves; and why should man be confin’d to more severe laws in that -point than his vassal creatures? I must profess, on the word of a -citizen, that I can see no reason why a man that gets his estate -himself, may not give it away to whom he pleases; and none so and near -deserving, as the wife of one’s bosom. What tho’ she may have slips, the -witcheries and temptations of love are great to their soft sex; and if -we have been so employ’d in getting, that we could not mind that other -business, why should we blame them for easing us by other supplies, -where we wanted power to give them.</p> - -<p><i>Luc.</i> Thou hast spoken as much to the purpose, as when in the world -thou used harangue at the choice of a sheriff; and therefore I shall -proceed to a singular punishment for you. Your argument of punishing -your children for their undutifulness, turns here on your own head; for -when they are little, you encourage their impudence: and that is a witty -child with you, that can prate saucily and lewdly before he can read, -and swear and catch the maid by it before seven years old; and then when -you have given them their head without controul, during their childhood -and minority, you punish them for the fruit of that tree which -yourselves have planted, which is in itself the height of injustice; but -on the contrary, you are condemn’d for breaking the laws of your maker, -which you were bred in fear of, and taught to obey; and you that could -punish your own flesh and blood so for nothing, without relenting, have -a just judgment for being punish’d here without mercy. And as for their -being lewd and extravagant, that is no plea for you, since that is the -lesson you have taught ’em both by example and precept, from the time of -their birth, ’till their coming to years of understanding; for you let a -taylor’s daughter, with you, go in the garb of the children<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_317">{317}</a></span> of a duke -in the country, and even miss ketch be call’d away from the mob: your -sons must keep their horses, and their whores too, before they know the -use of either; and then you punish them for persevering when they are -better skill’d. And as for the birds and beasts, (examples I think -unworthy to be follow’d by a nobler being, or quoted as a precedent) -they are so far excelling you in that point, that they educate their -young in the simple course of nature, not elevating them above what’s -necessary, nor leaving them, ’till they have sufficiently inur’d them to -provide for themselves all that nature requires. But just contrary to -the example you quote, you, all the infancy of your children, keep them -from hardship and knowing how to live and provide for themselves, and -then on the sudden cast them out of their nest unfledg’d, without -teaching them to fly. Nor is your proud supposition, that you may -dispose of your own gettings, more pious or justifiable, unless you will -make your selves gods, and claim the propriety of that which you cannot -carry out of the world with you, no more than you brought it in. ’Twas -heaven that gave success to your endeavours, to provide for those other -blessings it bestow’d upon you, of fine hopeful children; and you were, -in right, but their tenant for life, to improve your substance for their -good. Nor can you in reason imagine any one deserves it better; for -justice and reason both will have it, that you that begot them into the -world without their seeking or desires, to satisfy your own pleasures, -ought to provide all you can for them that you brought thus -involuntarily into the maze of fortune and the treachery of mankind. And -of all in the world, you have the least reason to leave it to a wife, -that not only betrays the rights of your bed, prostituting herself and -your honour to rascals; but shew’d at first so little respect and love -for you, as to desire so unreasonable a thing, that you should cast off -all the bonds of nature, and forsake your own children, which she could -not but love, if she lov’d you: for you know the proverb, <i>love me, love -my dog</i>. Having thus therefore shewn the villainy of your crimes, ’tis -fit I proceed to your just punishment, for which you are sent hither. -You that have thus more than monstrously prevaricated against nature, -shall want all the benefits of nature; fire you shall have, but not to -give you gentle<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_318">{318}</a></span> warmth from the cold of the season, (as when you liv’d -and hugg’d yourself in all epicurism, whilst your children starv’d) but -to scorch your wretched consciences; and continual fears of burning your -goods, houses, and writings, shall attend you; to which shall be added -the piercing fire of jealousy, that shall prey upon every part of you; -nor shall you be without the knowledge of your wives transactions on -earth and see how they mourn in sack and claret, and how they marry and -whore before you are cold; how they spend that profusely, which you -scrap’d together to give them, with so much injustice to your poor -orphans, whose injuries shall never let you rest, but with all the fury -of hell for ever torment you worse than <i>Onan</i> or the <i>Sodomites</i>: away -with them, whose villainies raises a horror, even in the prince of hell -and great source of wickedness.</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>As they are going off, two Quakers ghosts speak.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><i>1 Quaker’s Ghost.</i> Ah! um!—<i>Josiah!</i> verily, who would have thought -that <i>Rebecca</i> would have fallen with the ungodly so, or that your -<i>Tabitha</i> would have let the spirit move her to play with the calves of -<i>Bethel</i>, the wicked of <i>Sidon</i>, or the profane children of <i>Moloch</i>?</p> - -<p><i>2 Ghost.</i> By yea and by nay, <i>Abadoniah</i>, as thou say’st, it was more -verily than could enter into the heart of man to believe. Why, there was -my neighbour <i>Sad-face</i>, and my cousin <i>Goggle</i>, <i>Nahu</i>, <i>Sneakphir</i>, -and [<i>The lord said unto</i> Moses, <i>praise God</i>.] was his fore-name; had -they not holy sisters, as to the appearance of the flesh, for their -spouses? Yet behold with them, and within the tabernacles of their -mansions, instead of raising up seed to the lord among the chosen and -godly, they did sacrifice to <i>Baal</i> with the giants of <i>Moab</i>. Oh -<i>Abadoniah</i>! what a falling off was there! what a backsliding!</p> - -<p><i>1 Ghost.</i> Oh, <i>Josiah</i>! As thou say’st, verily, and by yea and by nay, -that the spirit should move us to come to the devil for our necessaries, -without a convenience. But our lord will remember our captivity in -<i>Babylon</i>.</p> - -<p class="c"> -<i>The lawyers push forward, and speak very urgently.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><i>Lawyer’s Ghost.</i> Sure, my lord, if the <i>Decorum</i> of any place ought to -be kept, that of a court of judgment ought, and not to let a paultry cit -speak before a man of the robe. But in these popish times, all law is -neglected, and all its honourable professors contemn’d and postpon’d. -However,<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_319">{319}</a></span> my most honourable lord and patron of all that were black, I -shall humbly move this honourable court, that I may at length be heard, -since my cause is of so great import and concern, and in which the -wisdom of this court will be highly interessed, if it should be brought -in <i>Billa vera</i>; and it wou’d too much reflect on the impartiality of -this court of judicature, to be slack in indagating into a cause of this -weight and moment. My lord, before I open, I shall only premise, that I -take this to be the high court of equity. Which granted, I shall begin -to open.</p> - -<p>I will confess, that the statutes in <i>Banco Regis</i> may prevail, and -custom in the common-pleas; but humbly presume, with submission to your -lordships, that this being a court of equity, it will give the <a id="FNanchor_57_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a> -devil his due. But, my lord, where a precedent of the like nature may -happen in a case decided by the great council of the nation, I hope it -will not be foreign, if I alledge it here where it has nothing to do. -The case is parallel, as I may say, my lord, considering the -circumstances; that is, in short, <i>Consideratis Considerandis</i>, in -<i>primo Henrici primi</i>, according to my lord <i>Coke</i> upon <i>Littleton</i>; and -if your lordship will let us read, you shall find so many gross errors -in the bill, and the material objections so fully answer’d, and costs, -if not charges and damages. But, my lord, I do humbly suppose, that part -of this bill ought rather to have been put into an indictment, and so -falls not under the cognizance of this court; and that is, my lord, that -we are made <i>Felo’s de se</i>, the causes of our own damnation, by an -instrument call’d a wife, value two-pence. Therefore, my lord, if you -please, let us try it upon a jury in any county your lordship shall -think fit. Tho’, I think, in our case, your lordship may decide it -without farther trouble; for thus I prove the <a id="FNanchor_58_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> negative, (hoping -your lordship will let me bring in a writ of error). To deny, my lord, -that we are damn’d, wou’d be perfect nonsense, and against all form of -law; yet that we are damn’d for our wives, I presume, does not follow. -And I will prove, that it does not, so undeniably, to all that have any -profound insight into the law, that I question not but your lordship -will ac<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_320">{320}</a></span>quiesce <i>Nemine Contradicente</i>; for tho’ it be,</p> - -<table> -<tr><td><p><i>Mark, brothers, how I will puzzle the devil, and all his learned bench -with one turn, one notable quirk; mind it well.</i></p> -</td><td>    </td><td><p class="hang"><i>Aside to the other lawyers Ghosts that follow him, they look on -one another, rejoicing, and hugging themselves.</i></p> -</td></tr> -</table> - -<p>[<i>Aloud</i>] For tho’ I say it be true, that our wives spend a great deal -of money on our clerks, <i>Et cætera, quæ nunc perscribere longum est</i>, -and cuckolded us as often as they pleas’d, in spite of our teeth; and -though I will not deny that they were as profuse as <i>Heliogabalus</i>, or -<i>Caligula</i>, and as proud as <i>Lucifer</i>, (with submission to your -lordship) yet (now comes the paradox) yet, I say, (pray mind this) <i>we -did not get money to maintain their</i> luxury, <i>but they maintain’d their</i> -luxury <i>out of the money that we got</i>: which, I humbly conceive, falls -not under the same predicament, but brings us within the act of <i>Habeas -Corpus</i>, that we may not be carry’d away into the den of ordinary -cuckolds. For, to give your lordship yet a more lively representation of -this matter in question, be pleas’d to reflect on another very pertinent -precedent in my lord <i>Coke</i>, where <i>John-a-Noakes</i> is tenant only for -life, and <i>John-a Stiles</i> tenant in tail——</p> - -<p><i>Luc.</i> Heyday! what, is it <i>Midsummer</i>-moon with mankind? what have we -got here! a cuckold hornmad, prating nonsense, and salving his knavery -and folly with a quirk in law, a turn of a sentence? those shams won’t -take here, where there needs no fee for counsel, nor bribe for judgment. -Away with him and his villainous tribe.</p> - -<p><i>Lawyer’s Ghost.</i> Nay, but, my lord, I humbly move your honour, that we -may not be condemn’d, <i>Causa indicta</i>, that is not right or equitable: -wherefore I beseech your lordship to have some regard to me, as I am a -barrister of thirty years standing, and a serjeant of ten, that you -wou’d be pleas’d to reflect, that tho’ I cheated the ignorant, and -squeez’d and impos’d on the necessitous.—</p> - -<p><i>Luc.</i> Has not hell yet brought thee to thy senses? Away with this -impertinent fellow, and all this black gang, among the rest of the most -deprav’d cuckolds, but in the most deepest cavern, for whom they shall -plead, <i>in Forma Pauperis</i>, till their lungs crack, without fees; let -the</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 349px;"> -<a href="images/ill_012.jpg"> -<img src="images/ill_012.jpg" width="349" height="600" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_321">{321}</a></span></p> - -<p class="nind">writings of their ill got estates be for their food. Scoundrels, that -had no more sense, than after they had cheated so many wise and honest -men, to suffer themselves to be abus’d by women! away with them, away -with them.</p> - -<p><i>Lawyer.</i> As to that, my lord, I always fetch’d my dear home in her -coach from her gallant, who had pawn’d her in a tavern.——</p> - -<p><i>Luc.</i> Away with them I say; what, am I not obey’d!</p> - -<p><i>As they are carry’d off, they cry</i>, O tempora! O mores!</p> - -<p> </p> - -<p><i>Luc.</i> Who art thou, with so precise a grimace?</p> - -<p><i>A Parson’s Ghost.</i> I was in the world above, most mighty king, of the -reverend crew, and having a handsom wife, as most of us love, who was -proud, as they generally are, my benefice (tho’ good) was too small to -maintain the grandeur she affected; but I being of a good comely port, -with a pair of broad shoulders, and sufficient abilities, and the man of -God too boot, (which made an easy and open way for all the rest) I -ventur’d to crack a commandment with some of my wealthy parishioners -wives, that they being so oblig’d, (according to my text) might prevail -with their husbands to be the more generous to me in supererrogatory -offerings, which flow’d all into the bottomless bag of my spouse’s pride -and lust; for that too, must be supply’d.</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>They are carry’d off.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><i>Luc.</i> You, the rest of this mad foolish crew, what are you? And what -the cause of your damnation?</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Poet’s Ghost. <i>Quis Talia fando</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Myrmidonum, Dolopúmve, aut duri Miles Ulyssi</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Temperet à Lacrymis?</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ha! brothers of the quill, what fate for us remains!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But death, or worse than death, inglorious chains.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><i>Luc.</i> What ragged regiment are you that lag behind your fellows? what -are you the black-guard of the cuckolds?</p> - -<p><i>Poet.</i> No, royal <i>Pluto</i>, no, (altho’, indeed, we are the poorest -cuckolds that come hither, I believe) we are of the learned rout.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>We have on</i> PARNASSUS <i>slept,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And in the sacred stream</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>(To guild our amorous theam)</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Of</i> HELICON <i>our pens have dipt.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And thro’</i> AVERNUS <i>and black</i> STYX<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_322">{322}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>By which to swear</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>The Gods do fear,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>We hither slipt;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And fairly bilked old</i> CHARON<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>As we were wont to do of yore</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Poor</i> HACK, <i>or</i> CHAIR-MAN,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Or our half-starv’d whore.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Wherefore, O Sir</i> PLUTO,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Since we cannot bilk you too</i>.——<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><i>Luc.</i> Hold, hold I know your tribe of old; if you once get to repeating -your works, or into the jingle of your rhimes, you’ll never have done. -Away with them to old <i>Sternhold</i> and <i>Hopkins</i>, and the rest of the -crambo-sparks: ye senseless scoundrels, that make wives of your mules -when single, and whores of your wives when marry’d.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Poet. <i>O passi graviora!</i>——<br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>Solamen miseris, socios habuisse dolorum.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><i>Luc.</i> Clear the court, and let no more come in: the fatigue of this -sitting has been enough: for my part, the follies of mankind are such, -that the very hearing of them has quite turn’d my stomach for this month -at least.</p> - -<p><i>Porter</i>. Great Sir, here is a throng of wild <i>Irish</i>, that will take no -denial, but thrust in whether we will or no.</p> - -<p><i>Irish</i>. Nay, nay, my deer joy, chreest bless the sweet majestees faash -indeed; poor <i>Teague</i> is St. <i>Patrick</i>’s own country-man, be chreest, -and poor <i>Teague</i> will come into St. <i>Patrick</i>’s purgatory; and if there -be no vacancee, indeed thee must make a vacancee.</p> - -<p><i>Porter.</i> Nay, but this is hell, and not St. <i>Patrick</i>’s purgatory: -therefore keep back.</p> - -<p><i>Irish.</i> Boo! boo, boo, boo, boo, hoo, hoo! hell indeed! say’st thou mee -deer joy! be mee shoul, and bee chreest and St. <i>Patrick</i>, ee was think -that hee that was in the highway to hell, cou’d not miss St. <i>Patrick</i>’s -purgatory, since there is but a wall betwixt them.</p> - -<p><i>Porter</i>. Ouns, stand back, or I’ll send you back to the <i>Boyne</i>, ye -impudent pultroons you.</p> - -<p><i>Irish.</i> Boo, hoo, ooo: bless the sweet faash of thee indeed, poor -<i>Teague</i> will have patience ’till his good grace will let him in indeed.</p> - -<p class="r"> -[<i>A noise without.</i><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_323">{323}</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> What noise is that without?</p> - -<p><i>Porter.</i> Here is a troop of <i>Scots</i> that swear and stare to get in, and -beg they may but skulk into some cold corner of hell, (which they wou’d -not know from their own country above) with their <i>Ganymedes</i>, from the -fury of their wives, whom they hear are just following them at their -heels. And then here is some thousands more from <i>Asia</i>, <i>Africa</i>, and -<i>America</i>, push’d on with the same fear: but I’ll keep them here in the -<i>Lobby</i>, ’till your infernal majesty is more at leisure.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> Do so,—for the horrid nauseousness of these sots have almost -put me into a fit of vomiting and looseness. And now, my lords and -gentlemen, that have given your attendance at this court, you may depart -’till farther orders; but tendering my health, both for your sakes and -my own, I shall confer the office of my deputy on our right reverend and -well-belov’d cousin <i>Belzebub</i>, prince of the <i>Flies</i>; for I am unable -to undergo this fatigue any more.</p> - -<p><i>Belzebub.</i> I humbly beg your majesty wou’d excuse my age, and give me -my <i>quietus</i>. Here is prince <i>Satan</i>, an able and active devil, and -worthy your choice.</p> - -<p><i>Satan.</i> Good prince <i>Belzebub</i>, you might have spar’d your good word; -for I shall beg to be excus’d, if my former services may be respected; -for I had enough of mankind when I tempted <i>Eve</i>, she foil’d me so at my -own weapon; therefore I hope your majesty will confer that troublesome -employment on some devil of less quality than myself.</p> - -<p><i>Lucif.</i> So be it then, and let the mob of hell make choice of one, for -I am resolv’d to trouble myself no more about them. But before we rise, -let proclamation be made of a general play-day and jubilee for all the -lesser and laborious rank of devils, who have been thus long continually -employ’d in damning mankind; let them take their ease as long as -matrimony prevails above; for now our business is much better done by -woman to our hands: Or if any are so zealously inclin’d to be still busy -for the good of their country, let them employ their time and talents to -better purpose than formerly, in perswading the easy world against -cœlibacy, by stigmatizing all that affect it with the name of whores, -rogues, and hypocrites; and if that prevails, we gain our point, and -widow’d Heaven may bid<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_324">{324}</a></span> good-night to mankind. For if we get them into -our noose, we may be sure of our purchase. Let none therefore loyter -away his time in tempting the marry’d; for one woman will out-do a -legion of you.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>For since their grandame</i> Eve <i>in</i> Eden <i>fell,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>The</i> sex <i>has learnt the damning trade so well,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Where e’er that rules, there’s little need of hell</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"> -<img src="images/colophon3.jpg" -style="margin-top:2em;" -width="275" -alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="page_325">{325}</a></span></p> - -<hr /> - -<h2><a id="The_Belgic_Hero_Unmaskd"></a><i>The Belgic</i> <span class="smcap">Hero</span> <i>Unmask’d</i>;<br /><br /> -<small>IN A</small><br /><br /> -<span class="ltspc">DIALOGUE</span><br /><br /> -B E T W E E N<br /><br /> -Sir <i>Walter Rawleigh</i> and <i>Aaron Smith</i>.</h2> - -<p class="nind">SIR <i>Walter</i>. <span class="bigg">H</span>OLD thy impertinent tongue, I say, thou everlasting -babbler, or——</p> - -<p><i>Smith.</i> Come, come, we lawyers are not so easily silenc’d as you think. -Liberty of speech is one of the eldest branches of <i>magna charta</i>; -therefore I will once more maintain it, before all the world, that the -reign of my late <i>Batavian</i> master, was in every respect equal to that -of the famous <i>Elizabeth</i>.</p> - -<p>Sir <i>Walter</i>. Not that is’t worth my while to enter the list with such a -petty-fogging dog as thou art, or the cause in debate admits any manner -of parallel: but since thou hast the impudence to defend so monstrous a -paradox before all this company, inform us what noble things this hero -has perform’d, to deserve all that nauseous idle flattery, which hardly -none but <i>Sectarists</i>, <i>Deists</i>, <i>Republicans</i>, and particularly the -rascals of thy kidney, when he was alive, conspir’d to give him.</p> - -<p><i>Smith.</i> Why, in the first place, he deliver’d <i>England</i>, then just upon -the brink of being devour’d by arbitrary power and popery. He won the -noble battle of the <i>Boyne</i>, reduc’d <i>Ireland</i>, appeas’d the disorders -of <i>Scotland</i>, reap’d a new harvest of glory every campaign in -<i>Flanders</i>, and at last, after an obstinate expensive war, forc’d a -haughty tyrant, who had insulted and bully’d the whole christian world -for almost forty years, to clap up a peace with him<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_326">{326}</a></span> upon his own terms -at <i>Ryswick</i>, by which he was oblig’d to vomit up numberless provinces -and towns, which he had dishonourably stollen from their true -proprietors.</p> - -<p>Sir <i>Walter</i>. And as for his personal qualities, what have you to say of -them?</p> - -<p><i>Smith.</i> Whether you behold him at home or abroad, in the cabinet or the -field; in fine, whether you consider him as a king, a general, a -statesman, a husband, or a master, you’ll find his character uniformly -bright in all these relative stations: affectionate to his queen, -merciful to his subjects, liberal to his servants, careful of his -soldiers, and providing, by his great wisdom, against all future -contingencies that might hereafter disturb the tranquillity of <i>Europe</i>. -But as for his munificence to his servants and favourities, I may -venture to say, that few princes in history ever went so far as he.</p> - -<p>Sir <i>Walter</i>. This last clause is not so great a commendation to him as -you imagine.—Well, and is this all, for I wou’d not willingly interrupt -you, ’till you have gone the full length of your panegyrick?</p> - -<p><i>Smith.</i> ’Tis all I think needful to say upon the occasion, and enough, -in my opinion, to establish his reputation to to all succeeding ages.</p> - -<p>Sir <i>Walter</i>. Let us carefully examine the several particulars; and when -we have so done, we shall be able to determine on what side the truth -lies—<i>Imprimis</i>, you tell me he deliver’d <i>England</i> from tyranny and -popish superstition: but was there no other way of accomplishing his -deliverance, but by sending a certain relation to grass, and wounding -the monarchy in so tender a part, which had suffer’d so terribly in the -late unnatural rebellion of 41? If what one of the ancient fathers says, -be true, that the whole world is not worth the saving, at the expence of -a single lye, surely <i>Great Britain</i>, which makes so small a part of the -universe, hardly deserv’d to be deliver’d from an imaginary ruin with so -much perjury, infidelity, and ingratitude. Besides, he solemnly -protested in his declaration, that he had no intention to make himself -king, yet he excercis’d the regal power the very moment he landed: so -that unless there had been a crown in the case, I am afraid he would -hardly have cross’d the water to rescue the church of <i>England</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_327">{327}</a></span></p> - -<p><i>Smith.</i> This is indeed what his enemies and some envious people have -objected to him.</p> - -<p>Sir <i>Walter</i>. Nothing of that can be laid to my charge, who was never -known to your hero either <i>Beneficio</i> or <i>Injuria</i>; but as I still -preserve an invincible affection for my native country, my zeal for the -welfare of that, makes me assume this freedom. To be plain with you -then, I can hardly believe he had any extraordinary concern for the -prosperity of <i>England</i>, upon whom he threw the greatest burden of the -war; whose troops he suffer’d to fight without their pay, in <i>Flanders</i>, -at the same time when a parcel of unworthy foreigners had store of gold -and silver in their pockets. Neither can any man perswade me he had the -least affection for the royal family, from which he was descended, who -suffer’d such numberless invectives and libels to be publish’d against -his royal grandfather, both his uncles, and, in short, the whole family -of the <i>Stuarts</i>, yet never call’d any of the authors or printers to an -account for’t during the whole course of his reign.</p> - -<p><i>Smith.</i> Aye, but a hero, you know, has other business to mind, than the -<i>bagatelles</i> of the press.</p> - -<p>Sir <i>Walter</i>. And yet this hero could condescend to mind these -<i>bagatelles</i>, as you call them, with a witness, whenever they were -levell’d against himself or his favourites. But to proceed,—can any one -in his senses believe, that this deliverer ever set the monarchy and -true constitution of <i>England</i> to heart, under whose reign all the -democratical treatises, both of this and the last age, were not only -publish’d with impunity, but the abettors of such villainous doctrine, -thought the only persons that were in the true interest of the nation, -and deserving to be preferr’d? Was <i>England</i> so utterly destitute of -able generals, that a regicide, proscrib’d by act of parliament, must be -sent for over to head our forces in <i>Ireland</i>?</p> - -<p><i>Smith.</i> You’ll never leave off harping upon this string.</p> - -<p>Sir <i>Walter</i>. And lastly, have we not very violent reasons to suspect, -that he never had any true hearty concern for the protestant interest, -whatever he pretended to the contrary, who so notoriously sacrific’d it -at the treaty of <i>Ryswick</i>; who, to enable him to carry on the late -revolution against his uncle and father-in-law, enter’d into a league; -one of the first articles of which, was, to oblige<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_328">{328}</a></span> the king of <i>France</i> -to do justice to the usurpations of the <i>Roman</i> see? And lastly, who, if -he had no aversion, had certainly no affection for the church of -<i>England</i>, the support, as well as ornament of the whole reformation, -which evidently appear’d by his bestowing its best preferments upon -<i>illos quos pingere nola</i>, a sett of moderate lukewarm gentlemen, that -were willing (good men) to throw up the constitution, whenever their -enemies should ask them the question. What shall I say of others, that -were advanc’d for no other merit, but because they had been justly -punish’d in former reigns for their seditious practices, or descended -from <i>Oliverian</i> parents; or lastly, because they held antimonarchical -and antihierarchical doctrine, both in pulpit and press, which they -honestly call’d free-thinking?</p> - -<p><i>Smith.</i> Nay, this is mere calumny; for can any thing but the blackest -envy presume: to attack him upon the score of religion?</p> - -<p>Sir <i>Walter</i>. For once I’ll spare his religion, yet ’tis certain his -ministers had not the least tincture of it. To the eternal honour of his -reign, be it observ’d, all the <i>Socinian</i> treatises that stole into the -world in the late accursed times of licentiousness and disorder, were -fairly reprinted, and these, together with the modern improvements of -<i>Deism</i>, fold in the face of the sun, without the least check or -discountenance from any at the helm: ’twas come to that pitch at last, -that a man might better call the divinity of our Saviour into question, -than the legality of that revolution; and safer insult the ashes of king -<i>James</i> the 1st, <i>Charles the martyr</i>, and the whole royal line, than -attack such a lew’d, perjur’d, infamous scoundrel as <i>Oates</i>. ’Tis a -general maxim, that the court always steers its course <i>ad Exemplum -Cæsaris</i>; and that a shrewd guess may be made of a prince’s morals, by -those of his ministers. If this observation holds good, a man would find -himself strangely tempted to say some rash things of your monarch, which -good manners and decency oblige me to pass over in silence.</p> - -<p><i>Smith.</i> But still you say nothing of <i>Ireland</i>.</p> - -<p>Sir <i>Walter</i>. Far be it from me to do detract in the least from any -man’s actions: But this, I think, I may affirm, without the least -suspicion of malice, that the exploit of the <i>Boyne</i>, every thing -consider’d, is not al<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_329">{329}</a></span>together so miraculous as his flattering divines -and courtiers would represent it; for, after all, where was the wonder, -that a well-disciplin’d regular army should defeat an unfortunate -dispirited monarch, with none but a few raw, unpractis’d, naked troops -about him? and then his giving the forfeited estates there to his -minions, in open contradiction to what he had promised the parliament, -does not seem to argue so great a concern for keeping his word. As for -<i>Scotland</i>, the subversion of episcopacy, and murder of the -<i>Glencow-men</i>, (not to mention the perpetuating of the convention, -during his whole reign, and by that means depriving the country of -electing proper members) will, I believe, look so frightful in future -story, that few of your heroe’s flatterers will mention the -administration of that kingdom to his credit.</p> - -<p><i>Smith.</i> Well then, but <i>Fanders</i>?</p> - -<p>Sir <i>Walter</i>. I thank you for reminding me of it. I am of opinion then, -that, bating <i>Namure</i>, he might have put all the glorious harvests he -yearly reap’d there, into his eye, and not have prejudic’d his royal -sight in the least. However, as I know full well what a mighty advantage -one powerful prince, that commands by his own single authority, has over -a many-headed confederacy, where all are commanders I scorn to insist -upon this point. For this reason I will not enumerate, nor enlarge upon -the constant ill success that everlastingly attended him in <i>Flanders</i>, -but come to the peace of <i>Ryswick</i>, which was his own proper act and -deed. And here ’tis worth our observing, that by his leaving the poor -emperor in the lurch, the city of <i>Strasburg</i> unluckily continu’d in the -<i>French</i> hands; and that either out of want of politicks or a zeal for -their religion, he made no stipulations for the <i>German Protestants</i>, -nor took the least care to have them restor’d to those churches, of -which they had been unjustly dispossess’d in the war.</p> - -<p><i>Smith.</i> Well, but necessity, you know, may make a man sometimes act -contrary to his inclination.</p> - -<p>Sir <i>Walter</i>. Why then did his parasites give out, That he was the -controller of the peace, and forc’d the <i>French</i> king to accept of it -upon his own terms.—But not to mention a thousand other things that -might be said upon this occasion, for I begin to grow weary of the -subject, to stop<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_330">{330}</a></span> my mouth for good and all, and convince thee how far -superior in all the arts of governing the immortal <i>Elizabeth</i> was to -thy <i>taciturn Hero</i>, I’ll first give thee a short sketch of her golden -reign, and afterwards honestly and impartially shew thee a prospect of -the other:</p> - -<p><i>Smith.</i> With all my heart, proceed.</p> - -<p>Sir <i>Walter</i>. As my mistress had a true <i>English</i> heart, and made the -prosperity of her people the only business of her life, she suffer’d -none of her ministers to crave to themselves extravagant fortunes out of -the publick purse. Tho’ foreigners flock’d into her dominions as a -certain asylum, yet she never encourag’d them to the detriment of her -native subjects, nor imploy’d them in foreign embassies, nor admitted -them into her councils: her affairs being manag’d with equal prudence -and integrity, and encouragements properly distributed, no wonder she -was so fortunate in all her attempts. Thus we find she supported the -protestants in <i>France</i> against the oppression of the <i>Guises</i>, and so -well assisted the <i>Dutch</i> in the infancy of their republick, that -<i>Philip</i> II of <i>Spain</i>, with all his forces, was not able to reduce -them. She was so far from bellowing her royal favours upon the -sectaries, that she suppress’d their growing insolence with wholesome -laws, and was as careful to see them put in Execution. She could display -all her father’s magnificence, when there was a proper occasion to exert -it; at other times, she observ’d a strict parsimony, equally -advantageous to her own subjects, and easy to herself. The establish’d -church flourish’d so well under her auspicious administration, that -<i>England</i> never saw so glorious a constellation of reverend bishops and -learned divines, as in her reign. She retrieved the honour of the -<i>Exchequer</i>, and manag’d her payments so wisely, that her people thought -their money as safe in her coffers as in their own.—— Now, your -deliverer’s reign was the exact reverse of this happy scene. Schism and -faction advanc’d, hypocrisy and dulness, under the disguise of -reformation, promoted to the highest honours, deism propagated, the true -genuine sons of the church discourag’d, foreigners admitted into our -private councils, trade neglected, our narrow seas daily insulted, the -publick impoverish’d, the treasury exhausted and pillag’d by<span class="pagenum"><a id="page_331">{331}</a></span> insatiable -cormorants, the reputation of our arms decay’d and sunk, the sea-man -starv’d, the soldiers paid with paper; in short, nothing but ill -management and poverty at home, and infamy abroad.—— And this I think -is sufficient to shew you, that you were mightily mistaken, when you -compar’d you know who to the immortal <i>Elizabeth</i>.</p> - -<p class="fint"><i>The End of the Second Volume.</i></p> - -<p class="c"> -<img src="images/colophon2.jpg" -style="margin-top:3em;" -width="275" -alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></p> - -<div class="footnotes"><p class="cb">FOOTNOTES:</p> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>Kings of</i> Spain.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> <i>Author of</i> St. Bartholomew<i>’s</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> <i>Madam</i> Maintenon.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Scarron.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> <i>Maintenon.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> <i>Madam</i> Maintenon.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> <i>Madam</i> Maintenon.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> <i>Father</i> la Chaise.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> <i>The murderer of</i> Henry IV.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> Grandvil <i>hang’d in</i> Flanders, <i>for attempting to kill -King</i> William.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> <i>King</i> William.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Lewis XIV.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> <i>A place out of the reach of cannon.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> Scarron.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> <i>Great houses near</i> Paris.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Hermitage <i>near</i> Paris.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> <i>Queen</i> Catharine <i>of</i> Spain.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> <i>Father</i> Pahours, <i>Father</i> le Mene, <i>Jesuits</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> Charles V.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> <i>Madam</i> Maintenon.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> Scarron.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> <i>Madam</i> Maintenon <i>was born in</i> Martineco.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> Don Carlos.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> Elizabeth <i>of</i> France.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> Don John <i>of</i> Austria.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> <i>The two Royal Houses of</i> France <i>and</i> Spain.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> <i>Credo pudicitiam Saturno rege moratam.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> <i>Monks.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> <i>Two ancient poets.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> <i>Two modern poets.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> <i>Madam</i> Maintenon.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_32_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> <i>A</i> French <i>poet, whom</i> Boileau <i>makes free with in his -first satire, and elsewhere</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_33_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> <i>Madam</i> la Valiere.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_34_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> <i>Madam</i> de Fontagne.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_35_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> <i>Madam</i> de Montespan.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_36_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> <i>The nuns of St.</i> Cyril.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_37_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> West-Indies.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_38_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> <i>The Nunnery of St.</i> Cyril.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_39_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> <i>Madam</i> Maintenon.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_40_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> <i>The voluminous author of</i> Cleopatra.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_41_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> <i>He means the late King</i> James.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_42_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> <i>A</i> French <i>Proverb for</i> no conscience.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_43_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> England.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_44_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> <i>Dr.</i> B——re.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_45_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> <i>Stanzas of</i> Nostradamus.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_46_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> <i>Madam</i> Maintenon.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_47_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> <i>Madam</i> Maintenon.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_48_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_48_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> <i>Madam</i> Montespan.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_49_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> <i>A proverb in</i> French <i>for a fat large monk or abbot</i>. -Cochon <i>is</i> French <i>for a hog</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_50_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> <i>Pulpit.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_51_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_51_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> <i>The quire.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_52_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> <i>Kitchen.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_53_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> <i>Bawdy-house.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_54_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> More commonly call’d with us <i>Boileau</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_55_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> The taking down the image of our Saviour, and setting up -the <i>French</i> king’s in the room of it, occasioned this distich, -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Abstulit hinc Iesum, posuitque insignia regis</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Impia gens; alium non habet illa Deum.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_56_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> Over the door of the great hall of the <i>Invalides</i>, he is -drawn guiding the chariot of the sun, with beams of glory round his -head, and a thunderbolt in his hand, the four quarters of the world -kneeling before him in a very humble posture, and the motto is, <i>Je -plais a tous</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_57_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> <i>The devil laughs every now and then.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a id="Footnote_58_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> <i>The devils all laugh at his negative proof.</i></p></div> - -</div> - -<table style="padding:2%;border:3px dotted gray; -text-align:center;" -id="transcrib"> -<tr><th>Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:</th></tr> -<tr><td> - -have his his fortune told=> have his fortune told {pg 3}<br /> - -love’s little tabernacle’s=> love’s little tabernacles {pg 5}<br /> - -which antient historians tells us=> which antient historians tell us {pg -5}<br /> - -was going to say to say something=> was going to say something {pg 10}<br /> - -be pimp to noblemens=> be pimp to noblemen’s {pg 16}<br /> - -should be excedingly beholden=> should be exceedingly beholden {pg 17}<br /> - -whenevever my circumstances=> whenever my circumstances {pg 34}<br /> - -continually tormented with with=> continually tormented with {pg 36}<br /> - -that abominable dedegree=> that abominable degree {pg 43}<br /> - -poor under-tradesmens families=> poor under-tradesmen’s families {pg 46}<br /> - -that set set him to work=> that set him to work {pg 55}<br /> - -in so dubious and enterprize?=> in so dubious an enterprize? {pg 56}<br /> - -If I am not now dispossessed=> if I am not now dispossessed {pg 58}<br /> - -mens consciences=> men’s consciences {pg 61}<br /> - -your your fame is infinite=> your fame is infinite {pg 61}<br /> - -I re-entred=> I re-entered {pg 86}<br /> - -charm’d with with the conversation=> charm’d with the conversation {pg -89}<br /> - -licentiousuess reign’d=> licentiousness reign’d {pg 90}<br /> - -knowing my inlinations=> knowing my inclinations {pg 100}<br /> - -as it is as present> as it is at present {pg 103}<br /> - -more especiolly=> more especially {pg 106}<br /> - -the lusciour morsels=> the luscious morsels {pg 106}<br /> - -his farher, had quite another=> his father, had quite another {pg 117}<br /> - -two bunchis a penny=> two bunches a penny {pg 122}<br /> - -from flesh and dbloo=> from flesh and blood {pg 124}<br /> - -you may them judge=> you may then judge {pg 125}<br /> - -where it possible=> were it possible {pg 141}<br /> - -of the famale fern=> of the female fern {pg 144}<br /> - -courtiers and and not me=> courtiers and not me {pg 146}<br /> - -by the hogshhead=> by the hogshead {pg 149}<br /> - -and pentensions=> and pretensions {pg 155}<br /> - -their cheifest delight=> their chiefest delight {pg 156}<br /> - -listen to this trembling lays=> listen to his trembling lays {pg 159}<br /> - -thar the king=> that the king {pg 159}<br /> - -Isarelites=> Israelites {pg 161}<br /> - -all affairs are keep in motion=> all affairs are kept in motion {pg 161}<br /> - -spill your tobacco, break your gasses=> spill your tobacco, break your -glasses {pg 163}<br /> - -character of gurantees=> character of guarantees {pg 165}<br /> - -sheding of blood=> shedding of blood {pg 168}<br /> - -sieges aftewards=> sieges afterwards {pg 168}<br /> - -covetuous lechers=> covetous lechers {pg 168}<br /> - -of a a republick=> of a republick {pg 172}<br /> - -even that unparalled=> even that unparalleled {pg 174}<br /> - -ambassador’s at the Port=> ambassadors at the Port {pg 174}<br /> - -confounded at his disapment=> confounded at his disappointment {pg 174}<br /> - -at such blaspemous=> at such blasphemous {pg 175}<br /> - -indeed we we are=> indeed we are {pg 178}<br /> - -Think we, we here’s=> Think we, here’s {pg 188}<br /> - -preceiving, exercised=> perceiving, exercised {pg 189}<br /> - -wits every foolishly=> wits very foolishly {pg 190}<br /> - -enquiry with with his=> enquiry with his {pg 190}<br /> - -if I had deen=> if I had been {pg 195}<br /> - -set my set my wits=> set my wits {pg 196}<br /> - -lie heave=> lie heavy {pg 200}<br /> - -so to tell you the truth=> So to tell you the truth {pg 213}<br /> - -crushed them them into=> crushed them into {pg 216}<br /> - -some women were masks=> some women wear masks {pg 221}<br /> - -and and leave=> and leave {pg 223}<br /> - -loathsome goal=> loathsome gaol {pg 223}<br /> - -were lawn coversluts=> wear lawn coversluts {pg 224}<br /> - -were blue and yellow=> wear blue and yellow {pg 224}<br /> - -food were silken ornaments=> food wear silken ornaments {pg 224}<br /> - -women were turrets=> women wear turrets {pg 225}<br /> - -and and I long=> and I long {pg 233}<br /> - -if any dody had=> if any body had {pg 236}<br /> - -your are sensible=> you are sensible {pg 236}<br /> - -make yor rich=> make you rich {pg 240}<br /> - -am heartly resolv’d=> am heartily resolv’d {pg 242}<br /> - -in in the time=> in the time {pg 244}<br /> - -empty cupboad=> empty cupboard {pg 245}<br /> - -run up and dow muttering=> run up and down muttering {pg 247}<br /> - -reputation fron stinking=> reputation from stinking {pg 251}<br /> - -few maxims in famale=> few maxims in female {pg 255}<br /> - -Itailan=> Italian {pg 270}<br /> - -Philosophers bodies=> Philosophers’ bodies {pg 271}<br /> - -but espcially the=> but especially the {pg 278}<br /> - -Charles Sidly=> Charles Sidley {pg 278}<br /> - -Chancer=> Chaucer {pg 279}<br /> - -scur’d by a brace=> secur’d by a brace {pg 283}<br /> - -it order to make me a=> in order to make me a {pg 283}<br /> - -meaning of that world=> meaning of that word {pg 294}<br /> - -aversus equss TYRIA=> aversus equoss TYRIA {pg 295}<br /> - -glass or or two=> glass or two {pg 299}<br /> - -and when he has it in her pocket=> and when she has it in her pocket {pg -301}<br /> - -speaks to a another=> speaks to another {pg 311}<br /> - -mam of wit=> man of wit {pg 312}<br /> - -I do humby suppose=> I do humbly suppose {pg 319}<br /> - -great deal of mony=> great deal of money {pg 320}<br /> - -Partick’s purgatory=> Patrick’s purgatory {pg 322}<br /> -</td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="full" /> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF MR. 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