AN Answer TO TWO LETTERS Of T. B.  
By the AUTHOR of The Vindication of the CLERGY.  
— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉—  
— facit indignatio—  
LONDON: Printed for H. Brome, at the Gun at the West end of S. Paul's Church. 1673.   

THE PREFACE TO THE READER,  Written by T. B. 
Reader,  
I Hear the Vindicationer is come to Town again, and that he intends once more to demonstrate me to be dead by the help of his old musty Authors, as much out of fashion as Set Ruffs or Two-handed Beards: and that's the reason he never thinks of business i'th' ●●ong Vacation; (poor Soul!) he's so in love with every thing that's ancient and mouldy; that he can never p●int till Michaelnias' Term, towards 〈◊〉 fall of the leaf, when the Year begins to grow decrepit. You can only expect more of the same Dunstable stuff from him; for he must not, he cannot, he shall not speak sense against me; and therefore I ca●tion you beforehand not to believe one word he says. To see the different Genius of men! This 'tis to b● bred up at Aristotle's porridge p●t, and never eat well, 〈◊〉 so much as taste of a good-dish of delicious Atoms, but jogs on like a Packhorse in the wont road▪ We ●hat are the Wits and Rational●ists of our time, who can make better books of our own then any he hath read, choose rather to accinge ourselves to writing, when our fingers are free from all suspicion of Caledonian Chill-blanes (caused by a stagnation or freezing of the humour in cold weather) when our Spirits are active, Blood warm, and all the Parts vigorous and sprightly; that is, a little before or after the Sun is got into Aries; and than you would wonder to observe how our Letters and Dialogues ●ake, and go off like Gunpowder 'twould do one good to 〈◊〉 people gobble them down a fast as Capons do pellets of paste and even grow fat with laugh●ing. I myself was fain to print all my Works over again last Term, (as many as came to a Crown in Silver at the easi● market price) because ther● were none of them to be got● and ● was willing to make the best improvement of my talon for the common good. He gr●pple with Me, who can confute Leviathan, and Alcoran too at ten days warning! I compassionate his ignorance and imbecility! Mark my words, if he be not at his ends of Latin, and scraps of Poetry again; and above all, if he conclude not with some paltry abominable Post script, which I hate worse than the other. But— (now Logic!) here he comes: Remember what I told you, that none but Dunces and Sots, Fools and Madmen, think he speaks sense; and I am  
Yours in all haste, T. B.   

TO THE Right Doubty and Puissant, Signior Timotheo Boccalini, Surnamed junior;  
Baron of Utopia, Knight of the most Novel Order of the Moon, and Governor of the Isle of Pines, etc. at the Sign of the Covent in Hecdecapolis.   

SIR,  
AFter my hearty Commendations, etc. These are to acquaint you, that I received yours, with the Merits of the Cause enclosed, which I should have made no words of, but kept it as private as if you had trusted me with some occult Quality; had not your prodigious Ingenuity dared me to some kind of Reply, by taking the same Liberty with your Friend and Servant, that they do in France; where they say, He that is cast in any Cause, is permitted to Rail at his judges for ten days after. For although you profess to make the very same Answer to the Serious and Argumentative part of my Book, that Ulysses in the Metamorphosis, does for his Running away from his Friend Nestor, that is, just none at all; deferring your further thoughts thereof, I suppose, till Doomsday in the Afternoon, as the Are●pagites used to put off their difficult Case●, Ad diem Logisimum: ('tis Mr. Chillingworth's Note, Sir, though I doubt not but you can find it somewhere in Lycosthenos) Yet, you have taken wonderful pains to pick out some small Passages thereof, to make yourself and others Merry, and expose the poor Author; who, if you say true, had saved you that Labour, having made himself Ridiculous enough to your hand. Let every man abound in his own sense; but the best on't is, your word begins to be no slander; and I meet with some few grown so Stout, that they will no longer take all you say, for either Truth, or Wit, unless you can show it Confirmed by some Act of Parliament, or procure the King's Broad-Seal at least, ad Corroborand●m. For in the ordinary way of managing Controversies, Traducing and Railing at an Adversary (like the Stoic in Luciah, who called his Opponent, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. Deadly hard Names, Sir, when he had nothing else to say) Nibbling at his Phrases, raising a Mist about plain Sense; Chopping and Changing, Adding or Omitting, Mi●quoting, or Wr●esting his Words and Meaning, and making Conclusions of his o●n from his Premises, crying out upon Euclid and Nonsense, Bulls and Bears, all along; and such like, have ever been accounted little Pedantic Artifices, poor unmanly Refuges, and as shrewd Signs, as piteous Props of a bad Cause. Now, Sir, although I am not at leisure to give you a complete Rowland, for your Oliver, and show how infinitely guilty you are in this kind, throughout ●your whole Packet of Letters: Nor yet I care not much if I throw away a sheet or two of Paper in Animadverting lightly upon those two. You designed chiefly to Aim at me, not that I intent to make myself to cheap as to Rally up, and Retort all and singular the Impertinencies thereof; but only to Call in at some of the most considerable places in my way, and thereby give the World some Hints and short Items of your Innocent Style, Incomparable Modesty, Copious Inventions, Acute Judgement, but above all, your Singular knack of Drollery. Nor have I set myself so Giantlike a Task, as you may imagine, for, you know, he that comes off fairly at the great Olympics, never fears any lesser Stage, or more ignoble Adventure, that is (to Treat you in your own Language for once and away) having already Vindicated the Clergy in general, I shall much more easily acquit myself in particular from all your puny Cavils.  
The first Honour you are pleased to do me in your Letter to R. L. is your comparing me to a Whiffler at my Lord Mayors Show: A Monstrous happy fancy indeed, if you came honestly by it, and did not deal with Sydrophel, or some other Cunning man for the finding it out! Now, Sir, though I can put on any Vizor to serve you, yet I must needs mind you of Lucian's 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that only pat and proper Similes (not such as will equally fit any He that wears a Head big enough to pay Pole-Money) are to go for Wit it by his Standard. For do you think would be any great charge or trouble to me, to Dress you like my Lord Mayor's Horse, or his Wifses' Monkey; to compare you to Esop's Crow, a Thief in a Mill, a Dog in a Bath, or a Dog in a Doublet, and make you like any thing between York and London? But I disclaim all such sneaking Comparions, as having no Sting in their Tails; I have odds enough of you besides, and shall ever think me at the better end of the Staff, so long as you continue only like yourself.  
In the next place I find myself much obliged to you for the choice Library you have assigned me, Wit's Commonwealth, Spencer's Similitudes, etc. But that fancy, Sir, begins to grow stale; and besides, I wonder you left your own learned Works out of the Catalogue, for I'll assure you I make more use of them to quit scores with you, than of all the Books in St. Paul's Churchyard. However, methinks you are vilely out in your Politics here again: I have read in Lucian (another of my Authors, Sir, which you quite forgot) of a certain Addleheaded Historian, who having begun his Work with a solemn Invocation of the M●ses, that they would inspire him mightily, made it his great business not so much to tell the truth, as to praise and flatter his Emperor. To be shot, Sir; when 〈◊〉 had Drawn up his Men, and given the Enemy Battle, and Routed them Horse and Foot (for indeed it was done to his hand) to show how well he was versed in Homer, he falls a comparing his own Prince to Achilles, and the Persian King (who fell that day by his hands) to Thersites for Pureness, as if it had not been more for his honour to have killed Hector, or some such Valiant and Princely Hero, than the despicable Thersites. The Application, Sir, is easy, and it goes thus: If it had not been more for your Credit to have Conquered, or to have been Baffled by a considerable Adversary, and well provided, than such a silly Creature as you have described, and so ill Armed too, I never saw the like on't.  
But above all things, Sir, I must desire you for the future, to have a great care of a Mousetrap, especially if it be Baited with a bit of Greek; 'tis not good Nibbling too far where there may be Danger in the Case. For although it seems to be your Hogen Mogen design in this Epistle, to take me to Task for my Greek, yet I am afraid you were better to have kept within your own Element, your beloved English Exercises still, than have ventured out to so little purpose.  
Your charging me with mistaking the Sense, or the Author, or both in those two pieces of Greek, is so Imposing, that, were that very Grandam alive that Taught you this kind of Confidence (as yourself somewhere tells us) I believe she would scarce save you from a Whipping.  
The ●●●st is an end of one of those golden Verses (so highly prised anciently be the Sect of the Mumm●rs) wherein you make me construe 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Virtue, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ●overty. If you make me, Sir, I can't help it, but upon consulting my Copy I find no such matter; pray Sir, next time, when your hand is in, make me render 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the Great Turk, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the Pope, and upon my word I will not take it half so heinously. But, to give you as much Rope as you can in reason expect, let it be as you will have it; let the one signify Virtue, but not as it is opposed to Vice, Sir, (that's your mistake) but to Infirmity, and implies only a Faculty or Power of doing a thing; and the other Poverty, Fate, hard Fate, Necessity, or what you please, 
Sanders de Oblige. consc. in prae●at.  provided it signify something that doth either occasionally or necessarily Excite, Quicken, and Enforce the Faculty or Power aforesaid, and I am content. I could show you several Authors that use the words to this effect, but that they are Old ones, whose Authority you don't use to value. Howeeer the World may be in your debt for your Newfound exposition of this place; I shall hold to my Old one still, viz. That, whether we attribute a man's condition of Life to Fate with the Stoics, to Fortune with the Epicureans, or to Providence with all sober Christians (the Text will bear these and many more Senses) Necessity is and ever will be a reasonable Spur to Action, it will make us do our utmost, and more than we thought to be in our power: I must forgive my Trespassing Friend for once, else I shall lose him for ever; and so in other like Cases. Hierocles (who knew that Author's mind better than you did mine, Sir) is much of the same Opinion; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 etc. The ancient Sages of Greece were wont to draw up the Sum and Heads of their Principles in certain Schemes, Tables, or Trees, (as they phancied) for the benefit of their Pupils, and in the Pythagorean Scheme Power dwelled hard by (as I think at the very next door to) Necessity, to imitate what I told you before. Now whereas you take Fate and Necessity to be one and the same, (because Courteous to shun that unruly word Necessitati, translates the place for his Verse sake fato vicina pote●t as) yet what if they should prove it to be sometimes two things? For instance, Sir: your Fates may decree what they please, and my poor Scholar (for whom all this stir and criticising is) be never the wiser; but he is so well acquainted with his own circumstances, that he easily perceives a manifest Necessity he should study, (without consulting the Almanac of Fate) if ever he intent to be a wise, learned, rich, or great man, knowing that this same poor 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, can almost do Miracles: and so much for that.  
As for my other Greek remnant, it seems, I am out in my Author, and then no wonder I mistake his meaning too. But who is the Tiger now, Sir? can't a man cite a Comment for the Text without all this noise, as if Hannibal were at the Gates, or Apprentices in an uproar? It were neither Felony nor Manslaughter, however you dispatch your Hue and Cry so fast after me. But what if you should reckon without your Host, Sir? What if the Text have not taken new Lodgings lately, but is to be found still where I left it l●st, in plodding Aristotle's own House? when you go that way next, pra● call at the fourth Book of his Physics, chap. 19 128. and you will either meet with that or one very like it, i. e. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Examine him accurately, take out your Compasses for sureness, set one foot at the Text, the other on the Comment, and see where you find those words, but be sure you don't confess your error: indeed I was amazed to see you quote the very Chapter, and then question your faculties as far as to deny a palpable matter of fact, till I understood you trusted a scurvy Lexicon, and that deceived you. I hope you will consult the Original hereafter, for let Budaeus or Scapula say what they please, the Text is here, and shall be here, when ●ome Mushroom Authors with their novel whimsies shall be hissed off the Stage, and turned out of doors.  
And now, one would think, I were as likely to guests at the old Man's sense here, as you who stand convicted you never read him; and yet we must needs have a cast of your Office, a set Lecture upon it, as if you were instructing your Boys. It's no great news to me, Sir, that he should treat of Natural Philosophy in his Physics, how strange soever it seems to you that one of his Principles or Maxims there should be applied to something else with due Analogy. Bishop Sanderson finding the Civil Body somewhat like the Natural, 
De O●ligat. C●nsc. prael. 9  citys this noble Text out of Aristotle (not Them●stius) and to accommodate it to his purpose clothes it with a Translation almost as Magnificent as mine, but 'tis in Latin, Sir: pray mark it; Omnis mutatio (praesertim si aut subita ●it aut magna) periculosa est ● compare them, Sir, and you will find little difference, save only that he treats of the Greater, I of the Lesser Body: Both agree in this, that the changing of Fundamental (not to say Foundation) Laws in either, is of dangerous consequence.  
You see I have luckily found a very good Author to vouch both my mistakes, and I am content to err with him rather than correct Originals with you.  
The Greek Professors place, Sir, is already disposed of, else I had not been so free with you; lest peradventure you might have put in for it. But if you will be ruled by me, or expect I should lay on your head, I should rather turn you loose to any ordinary man, nay to a Gentleman (provided he be a very English one) in another Language I could name, than this unlucky, barbarous, heathenish, Antichristian Greek.  
Thus much Sir, and no more shall I say of your Letter to R. L. although you should hire me to it, and give me your Hand or Bond to forfeit Sword and Belt if ever you drew upon a piece of innocent Greek again.  
In your Express directed to Me there's a great Cry indeed, but scarce Wool enough to make a Jack an Ape a pair of Breeches; a huge crop of Straw for so little Kernel, that 'twill hardly pay the tasker, and quit cost for threshing; and though you have rigged it out in a gorgeous dress, (I mean, bound it up with the rest in Turkey Leather and gilt leaves) and worded it as if▪ you were some Great Mogul amongst the Learned; yet upon examination I find it as very a cheat as one of those Old Egyptian Temples, famous for outward Splendour and Magnificence, whilst the God within was e●ther an Ape, a stork, a Goat, or a Cat. For can you imagine you have much outdone Cleopatra's Pug in this rare Adventure, when he quite forgot his business of Dancing, and fell to the Apples and Nuts thrown before him? Or do you think all the World so mad as to be fond of one Man's humour, who is under an imprudent Vow of never being Serious? Man is a visible Animal, I grant, so long as he rides in a Terrestrial Vehicle, as a Friend of yours hath noted; but it does not thence follow that he must be always laughing, (more than a Horse is Neighing) how white soever his Teeth may be. The Spania●ds have a Proverb, that a Mule will be a Mule o●ce a day at least: but certainly it becomes not so able a Rationallist accomplished with choice useful Learning to be all day long at Push-pin, or Span-counter.  
Now, Sir, if your Constitution be not faulty and full of Quicksilver, that you can scarce be fixed if you should die for't; if it be not Natural to you to talk as Idly, as one Elevated in a high Fever; I'll try what I can do upon you by Chastising your Errors, and giving you a little good Advice, and that not in the Grave Catonian way, but with some mixture of Levity to keep you awake for the better Operation, not doubting but you will be careful of a due Regimen, and apply every thing to the affected Part.  
The first mistake I shall note in your Lette●, is an easy one, only a Steeple for a Church; but you might as well have said, I thought it impossible for any English Zany to have a Ringing in his Head because there are no Bells in Turkey. Alas, Sir, I was so far from venturing you so much above ground, or tempting you to skip off a Steeple for my sake, that I have made it a great part of my business all along to keep you as far off the Church as may be. For albeit you are like Archbishop Abbot himself in one thing, i. e. in being neither Parson, Vicar, nor Curate all your life; yet you are not thereby qualified to be a Regulator amongst us now, so much as john Calvin was in his time, who offered his Assistance in our Reformation, but judicious Cranmer knew the man and refused him. ● little more Study and Experience will assure you, that Quinctilians saying is true, though it be Latin, Soli artifii●●s de artibus judicare debent: The Cobbler may laugh at all men in his own Trade, but he is no more a competent Judge of jewels, or Pearls, than a Blind man can be of Colours, although you should carry the Sun in your Arms before him. (There's another Translation for you, bevause you like them so well.) Granting our Church windows are or may be shattered here and there by late storms, yet what does that concern you, who are in 〈◊〉 Legal Capacity, not so much as that of a Glazier, or Churchwarden, to see them repaired? Besides, I wonder you that pretend to Trade so much in Stars, and Telescopes, could not foresee the necessary Effect such a Train of Causes must produce. For what less could the Dutch War, and your little Book, and another called the Expedient, or any one of them portend, than an Indulgence to all manner o● Non-conformists. 〈…〉 you inten●ed no hurt, or did not think what would come on't; as much as to say, there's no such thing as Common Prudence, nor any other way to 〈◊〉 the Morality of our Actions (in th● Cartesian Ethics) but by their end. I say again, and I think I speak it loud enough to be heard all England over; you have Disparaged and Abused our Reverend Clergy de facto, most Egregiously; who if they be so Ignorant as you make them, 'tis pity but the Breed of Adoniram should be Unmuzled again, to Teach them to Study harder, and Preach better. I could tell you the very Day and Year ('twas much about the time, the King came in) when a little Spark kindled a great Bonfire; thus o●e of your pitiful false Principles may occasion a thousand ●ll Conveniencies, according to the st●tely Heroick, Magnarum usque adeo sordent primo dia rerum.  
Another small mistake of yours is, your R●pe●tition of a great part of my Book (and that more unfaithfully than I should have expected from any Scot) and then Brandishing your Pen over it, and Bragging, it deserves no better Answer. A very compendious and effectual way to Confute Turk and Pope, and jack of Cumberland to boot! The spiteful World, Sir, won't be so civil as to suffer you or me to be Judges in our own cause; and however we think very goodly of our own Brats, yet they may possibly (if there be no Bias in the case) have a different Notion of them, especially in a Summer morning when the Sun is got out of Aries. 'Tis you have taught me so much modesty (I shall for ever own it) as to think, that I can not only maintain every Tittle I have said there, but even a bad Cause upon occasion against you, and two or three more such trifling Privateers. But I am not bound to maintain the Wise Reaso●iugs, and pleasant Consequences you so ingenuously and plentifully Father upon me— Male dum recitas incipit esse tuum; They are all your own, Sir, by a better Title than the Madman had to his Smyrna Fleet. I remember one Copy of the Vulgar Translation corruptly reads Evertit domum, for Everrit; and makes the poor Woman not Sweep▪ but throws down the House to find he● lost Groat. Now if one single Letter creates so great alteration in the case (quoth Ployden) what rare work for a Tinker may a man make, that takes your liberty of changing whole Words, Sentences, and Sides? What an easy matter it is to put a man upon the Rack, and make him con●ess what you would have him? To render Sermons, or Books, or 
* Nihil est quin male narrando possit depravarier. Terent.  any thing Ridiculous, by Interlining, making false Comments upon them, by Reading them backwards, or beginning them at the wrong end? I would not for Two Pence Half Penny you had been a Scrivener, or Lawyer's Clerk, lest peradventure some of the la●ty had then smarted for't, and been as Poor as you have made the Clergy. But you must not dream, Sir, I have so little to do, as to fall a Repeating after you, to set all right and strait again, as I le●t it; yet this I'll promise you, that if you please to send me a Page of the best Sense that ever you was Master of, I will only carry on this little Metaphor of yours, and if I don't return it you as Senseless and Impertinent Stuff (by the next Post) as ever you met with, I'll be your Bondman, and give you all the Causes and Effects too, that that you and I shall deal in for ever. In the mean time, I must desire you once more to be ashamed of this easy piece of Foolery, and (if you have no better Friends about you) to Learn a little Ingenuity of Achilles his Horse in Homer, or Mycillus' Cock in Lucian; for although the one Repeated a number of Verses, the other a great deal of Prose, yet neither abused the Author, or made him speak other than his own Sense.  
I shall not disturb the Ashes of Old Ferdinando so far, as to guests at the true reason why you would not Reply to my Book; but why you would not let it alone neither; why you must needs show your Teeth when you could not By't, and neither hold me fast, nor let me go, is such a Riddle, that I dedie any man that understands Trap to resolve it.  
You tell me indeed, that I jump in some Passages with W. S. and that you had Answered him half a year before. And is it not a strange thing that two several Men living perhaps above an Hundred Miles distant, should speak sometimes to the same effect, though Treating of the very same Subject? Nay, is it not stranger then that any man in his right Wits should deny, that you have Answered the said W. S. Back-stroke and Foresstroke, fully and throughly, and killingly too? For my part, I meddle with no bodies Principles, or Province, but my own; yet, since you are so good at Answering, pray answer me one Question: Did you ever hear of St. Dunstan? But— did you ever see a little Book called the Method of Preaching, Printed about Fifty years ago, the Author whereof writes himself T. V. as you do T. B? They say he and you jump in your Notions, that there you had your story of the Weepers, (though you have added two of your own to his Six, and made it consist of Eight parts) and to mention no more, your Preface from Adam, from his beginning of the World, which some Ancient Historians will have to be much about the same time. In some things indeed you seem to differ, for He was a Divine, you say you are none; He pretends to Instruct young Preachers serionsly, whilst you Laugh and Droll upon the very Old ones. Now I am not so vain, as from this and such like Instances to Indict you for a Plagiary, but only to let you know, that when ever you speak Sense or Truth, somebody else hath done it before you, so that you cannot claim the whole Credit thereof, more than of your late happy Intention of English Exercises.  
Nor do I stumble upon them again, Sir, out of a mere malicious design of moving your choleric Particles, but only because I am now passing on to consider your singular Antipathy to a piece of Greek, or Latin; for you proclaim open War, and profess you hate it like a Viper or Toad; as if the little Vermin struck so fiercely, that he left his Sting behind him. Now, Sir, were I disposed to Mischief, what a fair Advantage have you given me to pelt you with, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and an hundred such Scraps, every whit as significant as those soft Compellations of yours, my Duck, my Dear, etc. and then Tack about, with a— Tendimus in Latiam, and give you a Broadside there too? But that were a Cowardly Triumph, and I hate to use any true English man so Barbarously. Nor will I renew the Question once put to a Dogmatical Philosophist, after he had made a tedious Harangue to Disparage and Vilify the Tongues, why he did not cut out his own? But rather Argue the Business calmly and seriously with you. I hope, Sir, you don't think there lies any Moral Turpitude lurking under the Skirts of those hateful Languages, or, that they are absolutely and point blank against the Law of the Land: Our Statutes for English Manufactures, and the Encouragement of Trade, were never intended to bolt out Learning and Latin sure, as Foreign Commodities. I confess, I love the Smoke of my own Country as well as you, or any of them that were lately Pressed for his Majesty's Service abroad; but I would not willingly be such a mere English Machine, as not to be able to Write a piece of Latin to borrow Money (upon occasion) or to teach a Thief his Neck-verse. But yet you must not hence infer, I'm one that reverence Gr. and L. purely out of Honour to Rome and Athens; alas, Sir, I never saw either of them in all my Travels, yet I have met with divers Dead men that have been there, and say, they were very Fine Places. And truly when I find more Flesh, and solid Food in one of their Scraps (as you term them) than in twenty whole Pages of some late English Scribblers, I can't but stand amazed to hear such a dismal outcry against them. There was Learning in the World, Sir, above forty years ago, nay before that doughty Grammarian Palaemon's time, albeit he boasted, it was born and would also die with Him. And though it be the mode of late amongst some peddling Pilferers to rend an ancient Author's sense, concealing his Name and Language both, out of a superstitious fear of disobliging Monsieur Multitude, their Patron; yet I don't find myself at leisure to admire them in this, more than their other Affections of Singularity. For let them Fancy and Swagger what they please to the contrary, so long as there is a Scholar alive, so long as it is not death to use any other Language besides our Native English, there will be a laudable use of Greek and Latin Authors, and that in their own Dialect; their Brevity, Clearness, and Elegance, being not to be expressed something by the most exact Translations. Besides, Sir, the constant practice of our best English Writers is so much against your private Humour, that I must either conclude them a company of Fools, or continue my Respects to those Ancient Languages, you would explode, or at least beat down their Price. I presume you may have seen or heard of jewel, Laud, White, Montague, Field, Hooker, Chillingworth, jackson, Taylor, Bramhal, Hall, Hammond, Sanderson, Thorndike, and an hundred more I could name, besides Mr. Hobbs, all English Authors, (and many of them still alive) and yet very full of Vipers and Toads, nay Crocodiles and Basilisks too, if these be your new Names for foreign Quotations. I would gladly be civil to you, but I cannot find in my heart to call such Learned Worthies trifling Piqueroons, and abominable Scrap-Monkers, merely because a Dose of Latin makes you Maw-sick, and a Dram of Greek quite turns your Stomach. Believe it, I can never humour you so far, as to think e'er the worse of their learned Labours, because you Startle and Flinch as much at the naming an Old Author on the other side of the Water, as some men do at the sight of a Cat, Cheese, or Tansey. If your Stomach be so Ni●e and Squeamish, they were to blame that did not put you to some other Trade; for there is no possibility of avoiding a piece of Latin or Greek now and then in our Profession. It runs in our Heads, and will be Vented sometimes if it be but to ease the Brain, or communicate our Thoughts more expeditely, and confirm our Sentiments to be Old and approved. Did you ever wonder to hear your Barber to commend a Modish well-●rizled Bush of the last Edition, or your Tailor find a fault in a Garment made by some other hand? Did you never hear Merchants talk of the straits, Smyrna, Legorn, the Indies, etc. or of ensuring a Ship for fear of Storms, or Pi●ats? Is it any false Heraldry for Soldiers to discourse of Enemies, Fight, Guns, and Garrisons? Lawyers, of Westminster-Hall, and the Assizes, Causes, and Cliants? Physicians of Diuretics, and Sudorificks, Emetics, cathartics, Broad-pieces, and Guinnies? Nay, does not every Mechanic wiredraw the Discourse into his own Trade, and tell you presently what Art he professeth, because he understands and can reason of that, though of nothing else? It is as natural, Sir, for those that deal in Books to discover, upon occasion, where their Acquaintance lies, and with whom they mostly Converse, and sometimes to Cite the Author's own words, either for fear of wronging him, or ●or their own pleasure, or for many other reasons which I shall not trouble you with, because (as I remember) yourself have done it more than once in your Incomparable pretty witty Dialogue, and I will do so too when I think fit without ask your Leave,  
There is indeed, and ever will be, an Abuse of this, as well as all other things, so long as all men have not the same quantity of Brains, the same stock of Judgement and Prudentials. There will be those that Cite Authors in the way of Pedantry, Affectation, and most elaborate Impertinence, without any regard to those useful Circumstances of Time, Place, or Company; and if they can but shoot a Pellet or two of Latin now and then (though no more to the purpose then Eggs and Moonshine) they'll Huff and Strut with as much Scorn and Stateliness, as the One-eyed man is said to do amongst them that are stark Blind. Nay, should they fall into your own dear company, and knew beforehand how much you hate Latin, and that you had written a Book against it, they would be at you notwithstanding, and give you a Specimen of their parts; they would stick to you like Bird-lime, and word you to death if you let the● alone, and did but seem to manage the Laugh on their side. I'm sure I have been tormented with them in my time, and that you might not be surprised, but know what to trust to, I'll borrow your leave to tell you a true Story of this Nature, which I have very fresh in my Memory; and so much the rather, because the Person concerned therein is so Arrogant, as to pretend he hath some footing in your Friendship, that so you may know and avoid him.  
To supply my want of Company upon the Road, not many Months since, my friendly Host brought me in a small Retainer to the Muses, whom he had before recommended for a pleasant Companion, and the great Scholar of the Town. I had no sooner bidden him Welcome in honest downright English, but he accosts me thus: You know, Sir, Est natura homi●um novitatis avida; Pray, What news in the South? Oh, Sir, quoth I, (little caring for taking Post to Rome that night) How do you know I understand Latin? Vultus index mentis, replies he; by that I guess you belong to one of our two Tops of Parnassus, C. or O according to that of the Poet, Nec in bicipiti somniasse Parnassus m●mini. Nay, then (thought I) if you are so great a Statesman and Scholar too, I'll 〈◊〉 ●it you with News accordingly. You hear, I suppose, Sir, that Hurst Castle is lately Manned out against the Dutch; and that another small Frigate of 50000 Guns will shortly be Launched upon Salisbury Plain, against the next Campaigne. Not a word on't before (said he) Bona fide; but I remember my old Acquaintance Horace speaks of such an one; O Navis referent in mare te novi fluctus?— Which was no sooner out of his mouth, but (espying a Picture of King james in the Room) he falls to Admiring and Repeating Owen's witty Distich, (as he called it) 
Qui petit accipiet Iacobus Apostolus inquit,  
O si Iacobus Rex mihi dicat idem!   
That might pass for Poetry (quoth I) in those days, but it will scarcely get a man Preferment in this King's Reign. I know it full well (cries he) for Carolus will not stand in the Verse: and then, to find a new Topiek, he asked me if it was not hot Travelling, only to bring in 
Sieve per syrtes iter aestuosas,  
Sive fa●turus per inhospitalem  
Cau●asum.—   
At which I told him he seemed to be a great Traveller, and talked of strange Places where I had never been. But he answered me with a modest smile in the Negative, and that▪ Bene qui latu●t b●ne vixit, was his beloved Motto; but ye● withal that he had Read of one Ulysses, who was a great Traveller, and always went on foot. Why think you so, said I? 'Tis very clear in Homer upon my word, said he,— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, you meet with often. Quoth I, Are you very sure that was the man? At which he craved my pardon, saying, It was lapsus Linguae, a●d that he meant that other Heroic, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Whereupon I could not but gratify him so far as to observe how well he was Read in all sorts of Poets; but he confessed ingenuously he was only a Smattereer and a Wellwisher, and that ●e had not Read above 30 or 40 of the best of them, which he had at his finger's ends, and that he was almost Ravished with such a stately thumping Verse as that of Musaeus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Having no more of that Poem about him, and fearing I should catch Cold (as I presume) he asked me, whether Business or Pleasure drew me into those Parts? Thought I, he has me as sure in this Dilemma as Louse in Pontesract: But I'll avoid him if I can, by answering, Neither. And yet that would not do, for he (not doubting I would have said Pleasure) fastens on that, like a true Echo, and tells me Virgil commends it for a rart thing; and where should it be but in tha passage? — Voluptatem commendat ●arior usus. By this time I was grown so surly as to mind him from whence he had digressed (that he was not so solicitous of News as he ●eem'd to be at first) for I was so vain as to think to put him out of his Road. But alas, his Stock being not yet at an end, he replied nimbly upon me; Oh yes, Sir, with your pardon, In nova fert animus— is a Book I have almost by heart: Please you to hear the story of the Giants, and of the Golden Age, Deucalion and Pyrrha, Pyramus and This be, or any other betwixt this and jamque opus exegi— Bless me, think I, what will now become of me? I shall be Metamorphosed presently into a Stone, Tree, Bird, Beast, or I know not what. And therefore finding no way but one to avoid it, and not desiring to die that Death of all others, I wns forced to cry English to B●d, and tell him, It begins to grow late, Sir, and I shall rather choose to sleep upon what I am already indebted to you for. And thus, when he had spent the remainder of his Ammunition; and poured in a volley of Smallshot upon me for a parting blow,— Nox ingruit atra— Fefsos sopor irrigat artus— Per amica silentia lunae; and about twenty of the same, which for brevity's sake I omit. He took his solemn leave of me, adding, I am yours, Sir, Dum juga montis aper, fluvios dum piscis amabit, and so on till he came to the long-looked for and best bit of Latin he had reserved for the last, Vale, Valeto.  
Now, Sir, I have as little Kindness for such a coxcomb's Impertinence as you or any man Living: It suits no more with my Humour than Oil or Caveere does with my Palate, though as a Diversion I can for once, and so must you sometimes, endure it. But would you have me like Greek or Latin ever the worse, because some men are mad? Is there no way to enforce Temperance, but to cut down the Vines presently? Must I chop my Horse's Legs off for fear he should kick me as I get up? Neither ought you to argue against the use of the most Excellent things from their Abuse. To bring the Business between us to a short Issue, the Question is, Whether you or I be guilty of the Abuse aforesaid? I answer positively, that— Facit Indignatio— on the outside of my Book was an idle, heavy, Insignificant, Senseless Shred, that did neither fit me, nor bite you; whereas your Sylvestrem tenui— was a most Select, Acquaint, and Nipping Motto, a Revenge indeed worthy of an Italian! Oh, it galled me to the quick! And they may say what they will, but the Stab of a Poniard or Stiletto, is nothing to the mortal Thrust of a dreadful, fierce, sharp qoyson-pointed Sylvestrem tenui— Pray, Sir, let me Rise, don't Kill me outright; and I'll promise you never to return the Wounds I received at your hand by that Dagger like Sentence; but (if I can agree with my Stars) shall only live as a ●ame Trophic of your Generosity: And now I think you are pleased!  
But to proceed, Sir, (●or I begin to be as weary of your Company, as I was of the Gentleman's above) if my conjecture failed me about T. B. and R. L. that they were Utopian Names, who can help it? This I am assured of, that when I thought I had cut off two Heads at a Blow (you know the Story of the Hydra, Sir) there sprung up a third, one I. E. a bold Lad, who lays claim to all that ever you have written. Agree amongst yourselves, Gentlemen, who is the right and undoubted Author; I meddle with none of you all but my old Acquaintance T. B. and have enough to do to be at a certainty with him, by reason of his Shifts and Disguises, which are as many almost as Proteus the Prince of Rope-Dancers was said to have; for he makes nothing to Skip into Devonshire, nay, step to Peru, japan, Barbadoes, and I know not whether, at a minute's warning to fetch Metaphors; so that I know not where to have him long.  
But pray good Mr. T. B. is the Family of the R. L's. very ancient, much beyond Henry the VIII. They that derive it from Radamanthus Lemithrobarzanes the Babylonian Conjurer, produce not sufficient Authority to vouch their opinion, and make me believe it. You say indeed they are a large and spreading Family; but I have some reason to think I can remember the rise of them, though I confess they are very near related (by the Mother's side) to another Family somewhat elder, whose parts lie North and South, who are against all old Fashions and Usages; insomuch that they ofttimes wear Helmets 〈◊〉 their Legs, and Boots on their Heads. Let them enjoy their own humour, and spread, as fast as they please, provided they be subject to the King's Laws, and disturb not the peace of their Neighbours, and I'll ask no more, nor trouble my head about them. But whereas you tell me that no true Gentile English Spirit would have guessed as I did; when you make it out you was gentile. in hussing our Clergy in general, and every particular Member that comes in your way, I will warrant every word and syllable I have said of you and your Family, to be not only Gentile, but Right Honourable.  
As for the many small Games and petit Catches you abound with, I shall only say Mum to them all; and if you please to employ some body else to pick the feathers off your Querpo, I will inquire a little into the great Design of your Letter, which is to magnify your own way of talking (or Wit as you call it) and vilify all others, and then bid you good night. Not that I would be thought to set up for a Wit, of all the Trad● in Town; but because I find myself bound by the Laws of Errantry (like some Palph or Sancho) to follow my Leader into any, even the most Magnificently foolish Adventures. Standards by may possibly see more than Gamesters without Spectacles: and now my hand is in, I will be so hardy as to descant a little upon your very Masterpiece; and if you be taken tardy here too, I must request you also to burn your Common Place Book, or quit the Pit.  
In the first place, Sir, though you would seem to be highly incensed against a Quibble, yet I perceive you know not what it is, because you call conceits of the first and second Rate by that diminutive name. For according to the best Authors that have written on this Subject, a Quibble is nothing else but a Gingling and Chiming of Consonant words; and this (I must tell you) is no less than a Figure in Rhetoric called Paronomasia, saving your presence. But Bishop Sanders (in the very 
* S●r. 1. ad Aulam.  Sermon you Cite) maintains this kind of Speeches to be Elegancies, and flowers of Elocution, when they are used sparingly, without Affectation, and only as Sauce to our Meat. You might there have espied Ten or Twelve several places in the Bible where this Figure occurs, whereof the good Advice of St. Paul is one, (if you please to take it, and not Play with it) 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉— to mention no more. From whence that right Learned Prelate takes occasion to Chastise those idle inconsiderate Persons, who Scoff at the like Elegancies in Sermons and other Discourses, concluding utterly against you, viz. That 'tis only Affectation in this, as in every other thing, that makes it tedious or ridiculous. But those Levitieses of mine you so judiciously call Quibbles, belong Sir to another Figure in Rhetoric cleped Homonymia, when the words are Ambiguous, and (janus like) look two ways at least. And what ever you say or opine to the contrary; these, Sir, will be not only Lawful, but Useful and Elegant, and have a Sting in them when you and I are dead. Vossius was never Laughed at before for saying, Hermolaus nomine non re Barbarus; nor Heylin for Baiting the Pope's Bulls, and telling us of one john Selden, whose Name needs no Titles of Honour, (do you see, Sir, how bold he makes with the Title of a Book purely for the Fancies sake?) Nor T●lly for his— Ex agro Falerno depellantur Anseres, the same word unluckily signifying both a Man and a Goose. I could for a need throw you an hundred more into the Bargain, but (as I told you before) they must be used sparingly. Now, Sir, would you have us blot out two several Figures in Rhetoric merely to please you? Must we get an Act of Parliament in all haste against latter especially, which no▪ Language in Europe can live without? Even your own English is utterly ruined if you take it away; all your Proverbs, Tropes, Metaphors, and other Elegancies, signifying no more than Chip in Pottage without their Allusions or Ambiguities. And may not I take the same liberty of Speech that all the World has done before me, for fear of angering you? But I'm confident, what e'er you say, you don't really think such kind of Allusions ridiculous, if you do, you left your Memory (surely) in your other Breeches, when you went last to the Press. Pray, Sir, present my Services to R. L. and ask what's the first Letter of that Gentleman's name, who styl●s his Grace Guardian of Humane Nature, and says May and Can are of the same Mood and Tense, and talks of pure terse (Goodman he would have said Terce) human Nature newly drawn out of the Clouds? Who plays most Childishly with the Reverend B. O. ● for saying the Writes like one Puffed up; as if he meant, that he was Fat and Bloated, when he is soberly attempting to Cure the Tympany i● his Mind? Who tells me I am as utterly undone as ever was Oyster, and that his Ca● was not free to be Roasted? The same Figure all along to a Cow's Thumb. These I only return you, Sir, to let the World see that however you hate these little things, yet you can't forbear them more than others; although by your quarrelling at them otherwhiles, you start a new Figure in Rhetoric called Autocatacrisis, or Self-contradiction. You complain indeed I now and then speak as some others have done before me, and that the Humour is not my own; as if you were for none but New Fancies, new Stories, new Proverbs, new Old-saying●, all spick and span New. But if this be a Fault, you have no reason to call it so of any man living. For did you make those Forms of Speeches so frequent w●th you?— Dunstable Stuff— Catching old Birds with Chaff— From Top to Toe— Tumble down Dick— Courage Cakes— The Story of the Oyster— Hogs to Rumford— Nov●rint Vniversi— Sink or Swim— The Whore of Babylon— A Fancy of his Worships— and Nineteen more I will not trouble my Head to remember? Did you spin them all out of your own Brain? Alas, Sir, they are not only Trite and Common, but of as long standing as that of the Boy that made the Knife; many of them are as Old as ever was Paul's or, if that be yet too young, as Old as Spilmans Trial, Mr. Eaton's Goose, or that of john Hall the Capper; you know where I am. Nay, had I nothing else to do, I could Trace some of the most tolerable Humours in all your Works, and show the very Page and Line in Don Lucian, and the other Don, where you had them, albeit you put them off for New (as your Phylautus does his borrowed Notions) and own not those Old Gentleman's kindness for fear of spoiling your Markets. But for you to charge me with your own guilt, Quis tulerit Gracchoes?— For my part, I love to speak in the Language of other men sometimes, and do declare, I suspect all things that have nothing but pure Terce novelty to Vouch them; of which kind I observe two or three things in your way of Wit, which (pardon my boldness) I must needs acquaint you with.  
As first; Your Metaphors are oft so far fetched, that 'tis worth no man's while to go along with you; they are against all Rules of Aristotle's Rhetoric, whom I name not to crack my Whip o'er you, but out of pure Honour to that incomparable Tractate, and to recommend it to your perusal. Questionless you find some profound Similitude (though I cannot) in those wide Roving,— Pigeons and Postscript,— Logic and Wheel-barrow,— Greek Diveling,— A Net for the Moon,— A new Fashioned Sugar plumb, i. e. a Diamond, Westminster-Hall in his Trowzes,— So many Bushels of Logic (to be even with my Bushels of Atoms)— Sucking of Eyes like raw Eggs, with divers Monstrous ones in your Story of The People in the South (which I shall be with by and by) looking no better in my opinion, than a Saddle upon a Sow. These, Sir, are very New, and all your own, and so let them be for me: the next Age perhaps may find out the Wit of them, but you must not expect they will pass so currently in this.  
Another thing I must tell you of, is, your Trivial, Low, and sometimes Scurrilous and Dirty Language, as if you did not wash your Hands before you went to your Book. As if it were a certain sign of Ingenious Education, to talk of Ol● Folks Slaver— Putting one's Head in ● Pipkin— Not worth the Smoke of a Ladle— Curds and Apple Sauce— Broiled Herrings, or a Burnt Fraize— Mora● Rules enough to stop a hollow Tooth— Philosophy and Languages, Six pence a Bushel — New Oysters view— A Pot and a Cake— In spite of your Teeth— Hang yourself— Rogue— Rascal— Villain— Son of a Bitch— Prate thy whole Gut full, etc. Oh the sublime Raptures, prodigious Fancies, cleanly Comparisons, melting Strains, ravishing Style, and select Phrases of a Judge-Wit, who pretends to give Law to all others that would be Merry and Trifling! This kind of Way might go for Drollery at Billingsgate indeed, but I suppose you don't expect many of the Learned should be● in love with it; whether you reckon them according to the julian or Gregorian Account. I confess I am neither able nor willing to engage you in it, perhaps the unmannerly Presbyter you wot of, may, if he lay not down the Cudgels, because he thinks himself more than your Match; however (if all fail) I'll bring you an ordinary Porter, or take the first Waterman off the Thames) provided he be not Lineally descended from john Tailor) and he shall play a Prize with you at any time in this Dialect, for a Pot and a Cake, or so; but it is so New to me that I dare not meddle with it, especially when you are within a Mile of an Oak.  
One thing more, Sir, for the Credit of the Family I must not omit, that is, your jumbling several Languages together for a very jejune fancy, (a thing you deride in others) and Coining your pretty thoughts into new words, as if you had a Patent to Regulate the King's English: Such as Packishness, Doomester, Vindicationer, Vengeably, Vn-Iachin, Vn-Boaz, Carawimple, Eggifie, etc. and then vamping and ●eking others, as Spiritual-ship, Heliogabalus-ship, Bibber-ship, Do-as-you-would-be-done-by-ship, and many more ships, as if you intended to set out a fourth Squadron against the Dutch. This is also new to me, and if it please any, it must be those that understand the Covent Language better than I do. I remember Lucian brings Lexiphanes (one troubled with the same distemper) to the Physician; who, when he had given him a strong Vomit, and made him throw up a pas● full of Bombast-exotick words, the man recovered presently, and spoke like other men: but you may do as yond please, Sir▪ Only this you must take from me, that new words are to be minted without Necessity; and many of yours are as muc● against all Rules of Art, as Sir Thoma● moor's Utopia, though some of the Critics are fallen quite out with Him for that single attempt.  
By this time I know you are got to your Logic, and making Consequences like mad; That I am one of those that admire the very dust of Antiquity, and do Reverence even to mouldy Bread, or a rotten Post; and am such a professed Enemy to Novelty, that I have forsworn wearing new Shoes, Hats, or clothes; that I believe Antiquity doth privilege any Error, and Novelty prejudice Truth. Alas! Sir, I can laugh as heartily as any man at those Arcadians, who boasted they had Monuments and Histories to show of seven and forty thousand years, because they knew none could disprove them. I am not quite so Superstitious as Vibius Rufus in the Story, who having named Tully's Widow, and purchased Caesar's Chair conceived himself in a fair way to gain the Eloquence of the on●, and the Power of the other. Thus Neanthus (in Lucian) bribed Apollo's Priest to sell him Orpheus' Harp, but instead of making Stones, Trees, and Beasts dance after him, he, (by his uncouth scraping) only invited all the Dogs in Town to fa● a barking at him. And another (he tell● us) bought Epictetus his Lamp for thre● hundred pence, supposing if he studied 〈◊〉 the night by that, he should presently 〈◊〉 like that admirable Old Man. I have very good respect for Plautus, 
Plaut. in Amphit.  but yet I don't approve of his bringing in o● swearing by Hercules before Hercul●● was born. I like St. Austin well ●nough, but have not such a Reverence 〈◊〉 his Person as that flatte●ing jesuit, 
Maldon. in Io● an. c. 6.  who will tak● his private Opinion for infallibly true, though he bring neither Scripture, reason, nor any other Authority to confirm and warrant it. I love D●mosthenes, but not merely because he had stammering in his Speech. I approve of many things in the Talmud Doctors, but don● believe (as they would have me) that 〈◊〉 only reason why the Elephant was 〈◊〉 placed in the Sea, was this, because ● would not hold him and the Whale both else belike, we must have gone a Fishi●● for Elephants too. I can freely 〈◊〉 Plato and Aristotle, and the best of them all in their Follies and Dotages. I honour the Memory of the Ancients for the great discoveries they have made in Arts and Sciences indeed, but yet you must give me leave to smile with you when I find some of their Notions, Principles and D●ductions as cold as Plato's Laws, or Chrysippus his Sylogismes, as Lucian merrily phraseth it. Again Sir, to prevent you on the other side, I am not utterly against all News, but for it against the World, provided it be good and true. I believe there are such people as the Antipodes, though I had been counted a Heretic for it not many Centuries since. Posterity hath as much right to truth as their Predecessors, and none but a man that is crazed will deny Philosophy to be capable of daily improvements, partly by removing Old mistakes, and partly by advancing later Observations unknown to former Ages. I think it not generous to cry up the Old or the New, or enslave myself to any person or party for their own sake, but let Academic or Peripatetic, Stoic or Epicurean, or the latest Author you have (though smelling still of the Press) discover some useful truth, and I shall not boggle to believe and make it my own. 
Quod veram est meum est, sive Epicuri, sive aliorum. Sen.  I profess, Sir, I am not against the Circulation of the Blood, nor the Inventions of Printing and Gunpowder, no nor Tarts made of Harveys; nor against any of those mechanical Experiments made by our own ingenious Countrymen or Foreiners in this and the last Age for the benefit of the public; I could heartily write a Panegyric in their Commendation, were. I worthy of that honour. No, Sir, my Blood ferments and Stomach rises only at a parcel of Apish Politico-Philosophists, who are ever Disputing whether Cambridge or Oxford be the Elder Sister, and vying Pantaloon Pates against Spade-Beards; who cry up Notions for new and their own, that are not such, but old enough, though furbished up and put into another Dress; or if they be, they never can be useful further then to light Tobacco; who put off their Hats when ever they hear the Admirable Des Cartes his Name mentioned, and choose to go bareoot (as King james told Dr. Reynolds) because they wore Hose and Shoe in time of Popery; who trouble all Companies with their Principles, Ends, Atoms, Vacuums, Matter, Particles, Globuli, etc. though all this while they scarce know what those Terms mean; and t●ink themselves more Demonstrative than other men, because they can in a clear day, by the help of a Quadrant, wiredraw the Sun through a little hole, and make him tell what's a Clock; and if the Night be not cloudy, discover spots in the Moon; because they can at any time, be it day or night, evidence to sense that two and three make five, and only with Rule and Compasses show us some little difference between a Circle and a Quadrangle. These are the New-nothings that admire one another, and write themselves the very Miracles of the Age, because they have Courage enough to trample upon & insult over a dead Lion, to rail at all old Wit, old Learning, old Religion, and make new Experiments in Divinity too; as if no man spoke a word of sense, that could not talk Deiformities and Incubations, Sensations and Superfetations, Caresses of Heaven, treats of the Spirit, and the Opacous apartments of Satan. I shall not trouble the World with the numerous instances of this nature now, but only gratify you with a certain English definition of Ink, because it suits so exactly with your Zacutus his Latin one of a Spoon, and to show that men may be ridiculous and affected in any Language as well as Latin. Ink (says my Author) is a Solution of Vitriol precipitated, or made Opacous by the addition of Gauls, whose stipticity makes the Diaphaneous Texture of the Particles in the Vitrioline Solution desert their former posture, and muster in a confused opacous manner, filling those interstices with solid Particles, which before were kept transparent by the fluid parts of the water equally contempered. Ha, Ha, He! Now Sir let us take the common Notion of Ink that every Shopkeeper hath, (viz. an Infusion of so much Vitriol and gaul's in so much water) out of his formidable Definition, and then tell me what remains but a heap of elaborate and cross-grained Words enough to choke a Ho●se, and affright an ordinary man out of his Wits. No way to the Old way, I say still, and when I have reformed your Intellect of one thing more, you may possibly be of the same mind, and that is this; that you are very much out, if you think your New Modes of Wit, Learning, and Language, are of your own Devising and Inventing: They are all Borrowed and Old, Sir, and I will prove it (ex abundanti) that the Family of the Novelty-Mongers themselves is no late, but a very ancient Family. Indeed I cannot find who was the Head thereof (that perhaps is as obscure as the Head of the Nile) or say positively whether it beg●n before or since the Flood; but I can assure you it flourished long before your time, and that's enough f●r my purpose. If you please to turn to Lucan's Icaro-Menippus, you will there meest with the very Men I am describing, or their undoubted Ancestors at least: For they are raising a Dust about Atoms too, fight with Ideas, scrambling for Globuli, and mawling each other with Matter and Motion and such like Notions, as now (forsooth) would fain go for New again. And the old Fox stands by and jeers them, for such as knew not how many Miles from Megara t● Athens, and yet would tell you the space between Sun and Moon to an Inch, the height of the Air, depth of the Sea▪ and circumference of the Earth: That the Sun was a candent Mass or Stone, the Moon inhabited, and the thirsty Stars drink water, which the Sun (that old Tankard-Bearer) fetcheth up daily from the Sea. And in another place (his Rhet. Praec.) he seems a little inclinable to my opinion: For he points at two ways of Wit and Eloquence there, the one Craggy, Steep, and Tedious, requiring a great deal of Sweat and Oil, many Examples, much Exercise (meaning the Old way of Demosthenes, and other famous Greeks) but tells his Scholar this is now quite out of Date, & therefore (in a pleasant Irony) he recommends the other New compendious way to him, that will make him a great Orator before Sunset. He bids him get into the Modish habit, learn to be Confident and Clamorous, and call things by affected Names, as a Poet, a Versificator, a Shife, an Agonism, etc. and furnish himself with a stock of fine Words, and canting Phrases, to give a haut goust to his Discourse, and then he may set up for himself, and be soon esteemed not the Excellent and Incomparable only, but the very Son of jupiter and Leda, and mount presently into Plato's winged Chariot, not to discourse of the Father of all Being's, as he did, but to Admire and Magnify his own Great Self. Oh Lucian, Lucian! were't thou now alive, thou wouldst find nothing but the Old Plays Acted o'er again, and (because the Scenes are a little altered) cried up for as New as a Gazette at Athens. Thus I hope, Sir, I have made my word good, and that you will pretend no more to Novelties; for you see there is no New thing under the Sun (as we speak here below;) what there may be in the World in the Moon I cannot tell, nor am I at leisure to go to see.  
But, dear Sir, Why so angry at my Story of the Covent, for that is New (now I think on't) if any thing be? I'm sorry 'twas uneasy to some men's Humour, but (as you say) I meant ve●y innocently, and did not intend to render any man ridiculous. I thought it might have deserved your pardon at least, because the Scene was laid in Greece, far enough from your Quarters, and besides I had compounded with my Readers beforehand not to believe it, a Compliment you should have made too in your Church-Romance. You see how apt men are to credit Forgeries, how they love to be Cheated whether you and I will or no; and therefore if we have got that fatal Itch of Scribbling, we must learn to deal altogether in Truth, else we shall but expose ourselves to the cruel Mercy of envious Con-temporaries, and Selfconceited Posterity. I have always loved to live Privately, and you may do so too (you say you would) where you please, and how you can; but if you appear upon the Public Stage as a Satirist in Prose, or have a mind to Ride like the old Comedians and Rail in Meeter out of a Wain, you must expect to be found out, unless you can agree with your Goldsmith and purchase Gyges his Ring, whereby to walk Incognito.  
But pray, Sir▪ What did you mean to fall a Commenting and Projecting upon a Fiction (you say) of my own Inventing? Was it to make it better or worse? Had it not been more prudent in you to have let it pass, and said nothing, than to lay about you with so much Pains and Passion, only to tell the World you keep a Cat? The Creature is indeed somewhat more Rational than ordinary, and not much better Fed then Taught; for she argues lustily for herself, and holds to the fundamental principle of Self-preservation tooth and nail; but she is civil and meddles not with me, so that I can freely grant all she saith. But let me tell the Cat's Master, that a very good Carter with six able Horses would be hard set to draw one pardonable Fancy out of all his Caterwauling Dialogue, and unadvised Comment upon my Text. One thing indeed you demur upon as somewhat more material, which I shall vouchsafe to answer. You observe well that I did not say peremptorily what sort of Cubit I meant, when I was upon the Business of the Beards: For there are (say you) Five several received sorts of Cubits, some longer, some shorter, as you very occurately reckon them upon your fingers now to put you out of all doubt, and clear your Head from such kind of sc●uples for ever, you must understand me, Sir, of none of all those Five, but of a Sixth sort, which I call the Covent Cubit; and what that is any ma● may guests, that considers how much I make them differ in their Measures as well as Notions from all other Men.  
But Oh! the wonderful efficacy of a smart Repartee▪ They may talk of Quibbles that have couched Wenns, & Hailstones sixteen Inches about, and twenty strange things, but they are all nothing in comparison to the Necking blow of an Argument well Retorted▪ I mean, Sir, your People in the South, those Goblins and misshapen Daemons you describe. In the name of Holcot and Bricot, what have we here? What? Turned Conjurer honest Tim? I profess such a Story thirty years ago would have made my Hair stand on end, though it does not altogether so much affect me now. And I wish you had done it into acquaint Latin (as you did N. N's. Speech) for fear of affrighting the Children, and making pregnant Women miscarry. Here's as ample a Specimen of your New way of Drollery, as I could have given myself, and as full of Wit (to Imitate your own Dialect) as an Egg is full of Millstones: 'Tis only for Dull Barn-doors and narrow Souls to confine and tie themselves up to sneaking Pedantic Rules of Rhetoric, to compare things that were somewhat alike before, and make their Relations probable; give me a nimble Eleutherian, who scorns to be Shackled with a common heavy Vehicle, who can Leap over Grantham Steeple upon occasion, and will not Boggle at an easy Impossibility; who can devise such a Prodigious Story, as never a man in England besides hath Brains enough even to understand. Now, Sir, whether you lay your Scene in the World i'th' Moon, or the ●●le of Pines, or in another place called Terra Australis Incognita, I neither know nor care: I shall not attempt to make any Discovery, but let your People alone; not doubting but you will carry on your Revenge so charitably, as to provide for them as well as plentifully as I did for my Greek Colony.  
The old Po●yanthean Story indeed of (Lycosthenes, I should say) Callisthênes King of Sicyon, which brings up the Rear, and follows as naturally as o●e Link follows another in a Rope of Sand might have been tolerable; but that you gravely left out the very life of the jest, without which I never saw it quoted before; and had you consulted the Original Text here again, and added in the close— 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉— or told us in English that Hippoolides cares neither for you nor your Author, but slights you both as much as if he were to Charm a Scold, or Laugh a Horse out of Countenance, (as my Friend truly called my present Task of rejoining to you) you might have gone not only for the Boccaline, but the very Quixot of the Age.  
And now, Sir, before you and I part, please you to go along with me to the Whispering Place at Gloucester; I'll tell you something in your Ear that may do you good another day; if the Spirit of Will. Pryn hath not possessed you, if you have one good Ear le●t for sober Advice, let me beg of you to do your own Business, and let me alone with mine; for you are like to get nothing of me that I know of, but what you have already, a little more Civility perhaps than you have yet deserved from the most Contemptible pretender to the Clergy. And since your Style is so Exasperating, you must not blame me if I have endeavoured to turn the Point thereof sometimes: the Patient ought to accuse his own Intemperance, when his Physician seems Cruel. But if you are resolved (●all Back, fall Edge) to run the other Risque, and follow the unhappy Trade of Sawing ●till; you must know, that I am in no haste to Run away; or if I be, I can procure a Friend to Rhyme you and your Junto to Dead in Doggrel, or Write a complete History of the Covent for me, as I did (you know) for my last Pr●face. And if your Muse be such a Light-skirts, that she will not be kept in, I make it my request to you that she may appear in Latin, out o'th' common Dress, to let us see that all your Money spent on her Education is not thrown away and lost. I have gratified you now the second time in your own Language, though against my Humour, and out of my Road (for I'll assure you I converse more with those Old ones in Foreign Character, than any that pretend to the best English) and if you will be Ingenuous, you must Write to me next in Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Ethiopick, Spanish, French, High Germane, or any other Tongue I understand not, or else you lose a Playfellow of me. My meaning is, Sir, that 'tis below Men of your Worth and Parts, to Talk Homespun Buffonery. and make Sport for the most Mechanical Rabble; keep but out of their Reach, and let us be Laughed at only Nos inter nos, and I shall rejoice in your Company, but otherwise I shall leave it: And when you write to me in Latin, I hope you will not trouble and charge me with a Packet of other Lumber again; for ●our last Letter (on that account) cost me as much as would have furnished me with Intelligence for one quarter of the year.  
In the next place, Sir, let me prevail with you not to think so briskly of yourself and your own way, as to despise all others that are either gone before, or live with you. You have written a Book of five pence price, saith Arrian upon Epictetus; (though Learning is grown dearer since the Dutch war▪ & you have raised it to no less than five shillings) at that you may value yourself. But yet you must not hence Collect that you are the only man who have the World like a Ball at your foot, and can send it which way you please. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Luc.  'Tis possible some men may write (as Bellerophon carried) Letters to their own disadvantage, and themselves may not be thought so wise and wonderful abroad, as they are at home. I read of a certain Chemist that wrote a Book too, wherein he professed to extract Gold (as you do Wit) out of almost every thing, and then presented it to Leo the Tenth, not doubting but he should be gratified in most ample manner; but his Wise Hol●ness defeated all his hopes presently, and only commanded he should be furnished with a very large capacious Bag to put the Gold he made into, for that he seemed to want nothing else. And therefore I would not have you part with your Boccaline's place I gave you so freely (no not for two hundred Guynea's) till you are sure of a better; for Preferments are grown scarce and dear, and for ought you know the best of your Lay and Clergy Friends may give you the Bag, especially since you have added a fresh affront to the Sacred Function, and of a higher nature than those in the former Catalogue, in Dedicating a parcel of Trumpery, Lev●t●es and Falsities, to the most Reverend Metropolitan of all England, as if he must be thought (at least) to pardon your temerity and extravagance, (a thing you see I have not confidence to offer to the meanest. Vicar in our whole Tribe.) Indeed you write not your Name in words at length, for fear of the worst, which I can attribute to nothing but your affection to new and singular things; for I remember, the old approved way of Addressing to Superiors, and Persons so infinitely above, distant from, and withal so little related to Us; was (not to take the freedom jack and Tom, and all Familiars give each other, but) to Compliment their Grandeur, and bespeak their pardon in most humble wise, with all the poor Names they had.  
One thing more, Sir, and then I give myself and you no further trouble. I must desire you in all love, to w●an yourself from that calumniating and deriding Humour you are so fond of: other men know as well as you, that the Vulgar are mostly of that Nature, that they are hugely pleased and tickled, when the business is carried on with Scoffing and Cavils; chiefly, when the most August, Venerable, and Sacred Persons or Things, are prostituted and made cheap; as Aristophanes brought the grave Socrates into a Play, 
Aristoph. in Nub.  and told a number of forged Tales of Him, as that he walked in the Clouds, and gave the same reason of Thunder (when he came down) as of the Peasants Peasep●ttage grumbling in his belly, and such like. But I would not have you (knowing the Mischievous Consequences) follow such a l●ud Precedent, nor imitate that invidious Theopompus, who is said to write rather like an Accuser, than Historian. That Advice he gives his Son, was intended for you also; make your wit rather a Buckler to defend yourself, than a Sword to wound others: For a word cuts deeper than a sharp weapon, and is longer in Curing. And the Proverb founded upon great Experience, bids every man take heed of a Tongue that will cut his own Throat. A little modesty blended together with as much Prudence never did any man hurt.  
Now if you will take these Advisoes you may; nay, if not, you may take your own course. And so, with my due respects to the whole Club, wishing you all more Wit and myself more Money, I bid you heartily Farewell.  

POSTSCRIPT.  
I Had almost forgot to tell you that I have made bold with you to Write the Pr●face for me now, (the other Gentleman being not at Home) to show how great an Admirer I am of your Losty and Swaggering Style.   
FINIS   

ERRATA.  
IN the latter Preface, Line 10. R●ad till the long Vacation. p. 2. l. 3. r. Longis●imum. p. 3. l. 13. deal [nor] p. 5. l. 1. r. Comparisons. p. 6. l. 6. r. for sureness. p. 7. l. 17. r. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. p. 9 l. 4. r. intimate. ibid. l. 7. r. Curterius. ibid. l. 10. deal [it] p. 10. l. 24. r. or Stephens. ibid. 26. r. is the●e and shall be there. p. 13. l. 18. r. risible. p. 14. l. 2. r. and so full. p. 17. l. ult. r. but throw down. p. 21. l. 8. r. invention. ibid. l. 26. r. Latium. p. 23. l. 14. r. to vend an ancient Authors sense for their own. ibid. l. 20. r. affectations. p. 24. l. 1. r. sometimes. p. 44. l. 27. r. not to be. p. 45. l. 2●. r. married Tully's.