A COLLECTION OF Miscellany Poems, LETTERS, etc.  
By Mr. BROWN, etc.  
To which is added, A CHARACTER OF A LATITUDINARIAN.  
LONDON, Printed for john Sparks, in Newstreet, near Fleetstreet. 1699.   

The Bookseller to the Reader.  
MEthinks I see the Reader under a great disappointment, to find a Book of Mr Brown 〈…〉ing into the world without the Equipage of a flaunting Dedication or a Prefatory Epistle, like a painted young Whore in the Frontispiece of a Nanny House▪ to inveigle Customers. What? says the Reader, has all his Munificent Patrons made their Exits? has he dropped those necessary requisits of a Mercenary Pen, Impudence and Importunity? or has the fumes of a long debauch raised such Fogs about his Brains, that nothing could be pumped from his Poet's Fingers? No, Gentlemen, he is retired into the Country with some yellow and white Chips of the Tower, and now looks as much above a Bookseller, as a P— Councillor above a Porter; and the De'el a Line can I draw from him, whilst he fancies himself Lord of India. This is an Epidemical disease among some Scribblers, who have no Wit to sell, while they have Money to spend, or can be trusted; but when they are reduced to a low ebb, they'll sneak, fawn, and cringe, like a Dog that has worried Sheep, and dreads the Halter. Then 'tis, kind Sir, your most obedient humble Servant, wherein, Dear Sir, does it lie in the Sphere of my Activity to serve you, and earn half a Crown to procure me Credit for a Fortnight in a Cellar in the Strand. Now since 'tis inconsistent with my Interest, to wai● any longer in expectation of a Preface, I have adventured 'em to run the Risque of Censure, and shif● for themselves without one. Nor indeed do I apprehend any Necessity to detain the Reader in the Portal, where the inside abounds with such variety o● excellent furniture, as will sufficiently delight th● Ingenious contemplator; here and there are interspersed some words bordering upon Indecency, for which I hope Mr Collier, Corrector General of th● profane and debauched Press, will take my Author into Chastisement, amongst the rest of the Smutty Po●ets, and he'll oblige my grateful acknowledgement in a Bottle of Wine and a Neat's Tongue, for helping me to sell some Thousands of these Books more; bu● methinks I hear some say, how comes a Bookseller to write Prefaces, why not say I, for the Conversati●on of the Town, and keeping Company with the Wi●● will do much; for what would Mr D D—y hav● done, who was bred a Scrivener, if it had not bee● for the Conversation of the Town; or what would be come of the young Oxonians and Cantabridgeans if they wanted Conversation; if any designed for th● Goseling— l, they must Troop down to supply the Coun●try Pull— s; or, for the Law, they would be only fi● to carry a green Bag after a Councillor. I beg m● Readers pardon, for being so prolix, but I ha●● now done, and remain his humble Servant,  
J. S▪   

Miscellany Poems, etc.  

The Contented Whore.  
An Imitation of Epig. 66. in Mart. l. 12. Formosa Phyllis nocte cum mihi tota, etc.  

1.  
TO Charming Caelia's arms I slew,  
And there all night I feasted;  
No God such transports ever knew,  
Nor mortal ever tasted.   

2.  
Lost in the sweet tumultuous joy,  
And pleased beyond expressing:  
How can your Slave, my Fair, said I,  
Reward so great a Blessing▪   

3.  
The whole Creation's wealth survey,  
Thro both the Indies wander:  
Ask what bribed Senates give away,  
And fight Monarches squander.   

4.  
The richest spoils of earth and air;  
The rifled Ocean's treasure;  
'Tis all too poor a bribe by far  
To purchase so much pleasure.   

5.  
She blushing cried— My Life, my Dear,  
Since Caelia thus you fancy.  
Give her, but 'tis too much, I fear,  
A Roundlet of right Nantcy.    

Mart. Epig. 20. l. 1. Si memini, fuerant tibi quatuor, Aelia dentes.  

1.  
WHen Gammer Gurton first I knew  
Four Teeth in all she reckoned:  
Comes a damned Cough, and whips out too,  
And t'other two a second.   

2.  
Courage, old Dame, and never fear,  
The third when e'er it comes,  
Give me but t'other Jugg of Beer,  
And I'll ensure your Gums.    

Advice to a Vintner.  
Mart. Epig. 19- l. 1. The Hint taken from Quid te Tucca juvat.  
WHat Planet distracts thee, what damnable Star,  
To dash honest Bourdeaux with vile Bar a Bar?  
Why should innocent Claret be murdered by Port,  
Thou lt surely be sentenced in Bacchus' Court▪  
As for us Drunken Rakes, if we hang, or we drown  
Or are decently poisoned, what loss has the Town;  
But to kill harmless Claret, that does so much good,  
Is downright effusion of Christian Blood:  
Ne'er think what I tell you is matter of laughter,  
Thou'lt be cursed for't in this world, and damned for't hereafter.   

Mart. Epig. 5. l. 2. Ne valeam, si non totis, Deciane, diebus, etc.  
IN some vile Hamlet let me live forgot,  
Small Beer my portion, and no Wine my lot:  
To some worse Fiend in Church-Indentures bound,  
Than ancient job, or modern Sh—l— ck found.  
And with more aches plagued, and pains, and ills,  
Than fill or Salmon's Works, or Tilburgh's Bills;  
If 'tis not still the burden of my prayer  
The night with you, with you the day to share,  
But Sir (and the complaint you know is true)  
Two damned long miles there lie 'twixt me & you.  
And these two miles, by help of calculation,  
Make four, by that I've reached my habitation.  
You near Sage Wills, the land of Mirth & Claret,  
I live stowed up in a White-chappel Garret.  
Oft when I've walked so far, your hands to kiss,  
Flattered with thoughts of the succeeding bliss,  
I'm told you're gone to the vexatious Hall,  
Where with eternal Lungs the Lawyers bawl;  
Or else stole out, some Female friend to see;  
Or, what's as bad, you're not at home for me.  
Two miles I've at your service, and that's civil,  
But to trudge four, and miss you, is the Devil.   

Mart. Epig. 61. l. 11. Sat Phlogis an Chione Veneri magis apta requiris?  

1.  
NOthing than Chloe ere I knew  
By Nature more befriended:  
Caelia's less Beautiful, 'tis true,  
But by more hearts attended.   

2.  
No Nymph alive with so much art  
Receives her Shepherd's firing,  
Or does such cordial drops impart  
To love when just expiring.   

3.  
Cold niggard Age, that does elsewhere  
At one poor offering falter,  
To her whole Hecatombs would spare,  
And pay them on her Altar.   

4.  
But Chloe, to Love's great disgrace,  
In Bed nor falls, nor rises,  
And too much trusting to her face,  
All other Arts despises.   

5.  
No half formed words, nor murmuring sighs,  
Engage to fresh performing  
Her breathless Lover, when he lies,  
Disabled after storming.   

6.  
Dull as a Prelate when he prays,  
Or Cowards after listing,  
The fair Insensible betrays  
Love's rites by not assisting.   

7.  
Why thus, ye powers that cause our smart,  
Do ye Love's gifts dissever;  
Or why those happy Talents part,  
That should be joined for ever.   

8.  
For once perform an Act of Grace,  
Implored with such devotion,  
And grant my Caelia Chloes face,  
Or Chloe Caelia's motion.    

Hor. Ode 8. l. 1. Lydia dic per omnes, etc.  

1.  
TEll me, O Lydia, for by heavens I swear  
You shan't deny so just a prayer.  
Tell me why thus young Damon you destroy  
And nip the blooming virtues of the lovely Boy   

2.  
Why does he never throw the manly bar,  
And practise the first feats of war,  
Or gaily shining in his Martial pride,  
With a strong artful hand the foaming course● guide   

3.  
Why does he never grasp the ponderous shield,  
And meet his equals in the Field:  
Or when the streams swell with the flowing Tide,  
With his soft pliant arms the silver Thames divide.   

4.  
Why does he lurk, for I bewail his doom,  
Like an Alsatian Bully still at home,  
That fears to walk abroad all day,  
Lest eager hungry Cits should hurry him away.    

Hor. Ode 1●. l. 2. Quid Bellicosus Cantaber, etc.  

1.  
WHat the B—lly of France, and our Friends on the Rhine,  
With their stout Grenadiers thi● Summer design,  
Cease over your Coffee, and Wine, to debate:  
Why the Devil should you, that live this side the water,  
Poor over Gazettes, and be vexed at the matte●  
Come, come, let alone these Arcana's of State   

2.  
Alas! while such idle discourse you maintain▪  
And with Politic Nonsense thus trouble your Brai●  
Your Youth flies away on the back of swift hour  
Which no praying, no painting, no sighing restore  
Then you'll find, when old Age has discolours your head  
Tho a Mistress be wanting, no rest in your Be●   

3.  
Prithee do but observe how the Queen of th● night  
Still varies her station, and changes her light:  
Now with a full Orb she the darkness does chase  
Now like Whores in the Pit, shows but half o● her face  
These Chaplets of Flowers that our Temple● adorn  
Now tarnish & fade, that were fresh in the morn   

4.  
But to leave off these similes, for Curate in Chamlet,  
To lard a dry Sermon for grave folks in Hamlet,  
While our Vigour remains, we'll our Talents improve,  
Dash the pleasures of Wine with the Blessings of Love,  
Here, carelessly here, we'll lie down in the shade  
Which the friendly kind Poplars and Lime-trees have made.   

5.  
Your Claret's too hot— Sirrah, Drawer, go bring  
A cup of cold Adam from the next purling spring.  
And now your hands in, prithee step o'er the way  
And fetch Madam Tricksy, the brisk & the gay.  
Bid her come in her Alamode Manto of Satin,  
Two coolers I'm sure with our Wine can be no false Latin.    

Hor. Ode 27. l. 1. Natis in Vsum laetitiae Scyphis, etc.  

1.  
TO fight in your Cups, and abuse the good Creature,  
Believe it, my Friends, is a sin of that nature,  
That were you all damned for a tedious long year  
To nasty Mundungus, and heath'nish Small Beer,  
Such as after debauches your Sparks of the Town  
For a penance next morning devoutly pour down  
It would not atone for so vile a Transgression,  
You're a scandal to all of the drinking profession   

2.  
What a pox do ye bellow, & make such a pother  
And throw Candlesticks, Bottles, and Pipes at each other.  
Come keep the King's Peace, leave your damning and sinking,  
And gravely return to good Christian drinking  
He that flinches his Glass, and to drink is not able,  
Let him quarrel no more, but knock under the Table.   

3.  
Well, Faith, since you've raised my ill nature so high,  
I'll drink on no other condition, not I,  
Unless my old friend in the corner declares  
What Mistress he Courts, and whose colours he wears,  
You may safely acquaint me, for I'm none of those  
That use to divulge what's spoke under the Rose.  
Come, part with't— What she! forbidden it ye Powers,  
What unfortunate Planet ruled o'er thy Amours.  
Why man she has lain (Oh thy Fate how I pity)  
With half the blue Breeches and Wigs in the City.  
Go thank Mr. Parson, give him thanks with a curse,  
Oh those damnable words For better for worse.  
To regain your old freedom you vainly endeavour,  
Your Doxy and You no Priest can dissever,  
You must dance in the Circle, you must dance in't for ever.    

To Mr. Henry Purcel.  
LOng did dark ignorance our Isle o'erspread,  
Our Music, and our Poetry lay dead.  
But the dull malice of a barbarous Age,  
Fell most severe on David's sacred Page.  
To wound his sense, & quench his heaven-born fire,  
Three vile Translators lewdly did conspire,  
In holy Doggerel, and low chiming Prose,  
The King and Poet they at once depose.  
Vainly he did th' unrighteous change bemoan,  
And languished in vile Numbers, not his own.  
Nor stopped his usage here:  
For what escaped in Wisdom's ancient Rhimes,  
Was murdered o'er and o'er in the Composers Chimes.  
What praises, Purcell, to thy skill are due,  
Who hast to Iudah's Monarch been so true.  
By thee he moves our hearts, by thee he reigns,  
By thee shakes off his old inglorious Chains,  
And sees new honours done to his immortal strains▪  
Not Italy, the Mother of each Art,  
Did e'er a juster, happier Son impart.  
In thy performance we with wonder find  
Corelli's Genius to Bassani joined.  
Sweetness combined with Majesty prepares  
To wing Devotion with inspiring Airs.  
Thus I unknown my gratitude express,  
And conscious gratitude could do no less;  
This Tribute from each British Muse is due,  
The whole Poetic Tribe's obliged to you.  
For where the Author's scanty words have failed,  
Thy happier Graces, Purcell, have prevailed.  
And surely none but you, with equal ease,  
Could add to David, and make Durfy please.   

The Ode in Horace L. 4. Paraphrased Audivere Lice, etc.  

1.  
LOng have my Prayers slow heaven assailed  
But thanks to all the powers above,  
That still revenge the cause of injured Love,  
Lice at last they have prevailed.  
My vows are all with usury repaid,  
For who can Providence upbraid,  
That sees thy former crimes with hastened Ag● repaid   

2.  
thou'rt old, and yet by awkard ways dost striv●  
Th' unwilling passion to revive;  
Dost drink, and dance, and touch thy Lyre  
And all to set some puny Heart on fire.  
Alas in Chloes Cheeks love basking lies;  
Chloe great Beauty's fairest prize,  
Chloe that charms our ears, and ravishes our eyes   

3.  
The vigorous Boy flies o'er the barren Plains,  
Where sapless Oaks their withered trunks extend,  
For Love, like other Gods, disdains  
To grace the Shrine that Age has once profaned.  
He too laughs at thee now,  
Scorns thy grey hairs, and wrinkled brow,  
How should his youthful fires agree with hoary Age's snow?   

4.  
In vain, with wondrous art, and mighty care,  
You strive your ruin'd Beauty to repair;  
No far-fetched Silks one minute can restore,  
That time has added to the endless score.  
And precious Stones, though ne'er so bright,  
They shine with their own native light,  
Will but disgrace thee now, and but enhance thy night.   

5.  
Ah me! where's now that Mien! that Face  
That Shape! that Air! that every Grace!  
That Colour! whose enchanting Red  
Me to Love's tents a Captive led.  
Strange turn of Fate! that she  
Who from myself so oft has stolen poor me,  
Now by the just revenge of Time, stolen fro● herself should b●   

6.  
Time was when Lyce's powerful face  
To Phyllis only gave the place;  
Perfect in all the little tricks of love,  
That charm the sense, and the quick fancy mov●  
But fate to Phyllis a long reign denied,  
She fell in all her blooming Beauty's pride,  
She conquered whilst she lived, and triumph as she dy●   

7.  
Thou, like some old Commander in disgrace,  
Surviving the past Conquests of thy face,  
Now the great business of thy life is done,  
Reviewst with grief the Trophies thou hast won  
Damned to be parched with lust, though chilled with Age,  
And though past action, damned to tread the Stage,  
That all might laugh to see that glaring light,  
Which lately shone so fierce and bright,  
End with a stink at last, and vanish into night.    

The x. Ode in Horace L. 3. Paraphrased. Extremum Tanaim si biberes Lice, etc.  

Tho' you, my Lice, in some Northern●●ood▪  
Had chilled the current of your blood:  
Or lost your sweet engaging Charms  
In some Tartarian Husband's icy arms,  
Were yet one spark of pity left behind  
To form the least impression on your mind,  
Sure you must grieve, sure you must sigh,  
Sure drop some pity from your Eye,  
To see your Lover prostrate on the ground,  
With gloomy night, and black despair encompassed all around   

2.  
Hark! how the threatening Tempests rise,  
And with loud clamours fill the Skies:  
Hark! how the tott ring buildings shake,  
Hark! how the Trees a doleful Consort make  
And see! oh see! how all below  
The earth lies covered deep in Snow.  
The Romans clad in white, did thus the Fasces woe  
And thus your freezing Candidate, my Lice sues for you   

3.  
Come, lay these foolish niceties aside,  
And to soft passion sacrifice your pride;  
Let not the precious hours with fruitless questions die,  
But let new scenes of pleasure crown them as they fly.  
'Slight not the flames which your own charms infuse,  
And no kind friendly minute lose,  
While Youth & Beauty give you leave to choose.  
As men by acts of Charity below  
Or purchase the next world, or think they do:  
So you in Youth a Lover should engage,  
To make a sure retreat for your declining Age.   

4.  
Let meaner Souls by Virtue be cajoled,  
As the good Grecian Spinstress was of old;  
She, while her Sot his youthful prime bestowed  
To fight a Cuckold's Wars abroad,  
Held out a longer Siege than Troy,  
Against the warm attacks of proffered joy,  
And foolishly preserved a worthless Chastity,  
At the expense of ten years' lies and perjury.  
Like that old fashioned Dame ne'er bilk your own delight,  
But what you've lost i'th' day, get, get it in the night.   

5.  
Oh! than if prayers can no acceptance find,  
Nor vows, nor offerings bend your mind;  
If all these powerful motives fail,  
Yet let your Husband's injuries prevail;  
He, by some Playhouse Jilt misled,  
Elsewhere bestows the tribute of your Bed;  
Let me his forfeited Embraces share,  
Let me your mighty wrongs repair.  
Thus Kings by their own Rebels powers betrayed,  
To quell the homebred Foe call in a foreign aid.   

6.  
Love, let Platonics promise what they will,  
Must, like Devotion, be encouraged still;  
Must meet with equal wishes and desires,  
Or else the dying Lamp in its own Urn expires:  
And I, for all that boasted flame  
We Poets and fond Lovers idly claim,  
Am of too frail a make I fear,  
Should you continue still severe,  
To brave the double hardships of your fate,  
And bear the coldness of the nights, and rigour of your hate.    

The xxvi. Ode in Hor. L. 3. paraphrased. Vixi puellis nuper idoneus, etc.  

1.  
'tIs true, while active Blood my veins did fire,  
And vigorous Youth gay thoughts inspire,  
(By your leave, Courteous Reader, be it said)  
I could have done't as well as most men did;  
But now I am (the more's the pity)  
The veriest fumbler in the City.   

2.  
There, honest Harp, that hast of late  
So often bore thy sinful Master's fate,  
Thou a cracked side, and he a broken pa●e.  
Hang up, and peaceful rest enjoy,  
Hang up, while poor dejected I,  
Unmusical, unstrung like thee, sit mourning by   

3.  
And likewise all ye trusty bars,  
With whose assistance heretofore,  
When Love engaged me in his Wars,  
I've battered, heaven forgive me, many a doo●  
Lie there till some more able hand  
Shall you to your old pious use command.   

4.  
But, oh kind Phoebus, lend a pitying ear  
To thy old Servant's humble prayer,  
Let scornful Chloe thy resentments feel,  
Lash her all o'er with rods of Steel;  
And when the Jilt shall of her smart complain,  
This 'tis, then tell her, to disdain  
Thy sacred power, and scorn a Lover's pain.    

The xv. Ode in Horace Lib. 3. Imitated. Vxor pauperis Ibyci, etc.  

1.  
AT length, thou antiquated Whore,  
Leave trading off, and sin no more,  
For shame in your old Age turn Nun,  
As Whores of everlasting Memory have done.   

2.  
Why shouldst thou 〈◊〉 frequent the sport,  
The Balls, and ●evel● of the Court?  
Or why at glittering Masks appear,  
Only to fill the Triumphs of the Fair?   

3.  
To Ghent or Brussels straight adjourn,  
The lewdness of your former life to mourn,  
There brawny Priests in plenty you may hire  
If whip, and wholesome Sackcloth cannot quenc● the fire   

4.  
Your Daughter's for the business made,  
To her in Conscience quit your Trade.  
Thus, when his conquering days were done  
Victorious Charles resigned his Kingdom to his Son   

5.  
Alas! ne'er thrum your long disused Guittar,  
Nor with Pulvilio's scent your hair,  
But in some lonely Cell abide,  
With Rosary and Plalter dangling at your side.    

The Epigram in Martial L. Imitated.  
Quaeris sollicitus diu, rogasque  
Cui tradas, Lupe, filium Magistro, &c▪  
WHen e'er I meet you, still you cry,  
What shall I do with Bob, my Boy.  
Since this Affair you'll have me treat on,  
ne'er send the Lad to Paul's or Eton.  
The Muses let him not confide in,  
But leave those Jilts to Tate or Dryden.  
If, with damned Rhymes he racks his wits,  
Send him to Mevis or St. Kit's.  
Wou●d you with wealth his Pockets store well,  
Teach him to pimp, or hold a door well.  
If he has a head not worth a Stiver,  
Make him a Curate, or Hog driver.   

In obitum Tho. Shadwell pinguis memoria 1693.  

1.  
COnditur haec tumulo Bavius, gravis es● memen●  
Terra duo Bavio, nam fuit ille tibi.   

2.  
Tam cito miraris Bavii foetere cadaver?  
Non erat in toto corpore mica salis.   

3.  
Mors uni Bavio lucrum: nam jugera Vates,  
Qui vivens habuit nulla, sepultus habet.   

4.  
Porrigitur novus hic Tityus per jugera septem,  
Nec quae tondebit viscera, deerit Avis.   

5.  
Dicite (nam bene vos 〈◊〉) gens Critica, vate●  
An fu●rit Bavius pejor, an historicus.   

6.  
Militiam sicco Wilhelmus Marte peregit.  
O Clemens Caesar! consulis historico.   

7.  
Tom writ, but the Reader still slept o'er his Book,  
For he carefully writ the same Opium he took.    

An Impromptu to Shadwell's Memory, by Dr. B—  
ANd must our glorious Laureate then departed,  
Heaven if it please may take his loyal heart,  
As for the rest sweet Devil fetch a Cart.   

In Decretum Parliamenti 1689. De non adulterandis Vinis.  
CRimen adulterii vetuerunt Biblia frustra.  
Jam quid ages Caupo? Parliamenta vetant.   

Inscriptions designed for the Dyal ove● the Fountain in the new Square at Lincolns-inn.  

1.  
UT referat gratam mercedem quaelibet hoc▪  
Munificum laudet quaelibet hora Deu●   

2.  
Unde fluit lapsu, quid stas ignave, perenni,  
Carpe Viator iter, sic tibi vita fluit.   

3.  
Haec Legum domus est, colit hanc Themis aut sede▪  
Hospite nec Domus est dignior ulla Dea.    

An Epigram under the Picture of a Bea●●▪  
THis vain gay thing sets up for man,  
But see what Fate attends him,  
The powd'ring Barber first began,  
The Barber Surgeon ends him.   

The Song of Go Perjur'd Man, set admirably to Music by Dr. Blow. Translated into Latin.  
ITo execrandis perside passibus,  
Vagumque retro si taleris pedem  
Visurus extremat pudendae  
Reliquias inimicus urnae,  
Si quando risu turbidus improbo  
Recte monentem temnere pulverem  
Proclivis, ornamenta quaeres  
Faemineae fugitiva formae  
Forte & piarum munera virginum  
Flores profanâ dissicis manu:  
Huic Sexui, Eheu! quam fugacis  
Imperii monumentum & Omen.  
Utar protervi vindiciis Noti,  
Vocabo & Euros, tu cineris brevi  
Ultoris insurgente nube,  
Perpetuam patiere noctem.   

To a Lady that would not grant the 〈◊〉 favours under cheaper terms tha● Matrimony.  
Out of French.  
LIke our great Father Adam fain would  
The Paradise you drive me from, enjoy  
But Caelia, you too hard conditions make,  
The flaming Sword of Marriage drives me bac●   

Avis sur a Marriage.  
THe Husband's the Pilot, the Wife is the Ocean  
He always in danger, she always in motion  
And he that in Wedlock twice hazards his carcase  
Twice ventures a drowning, and faith that's hard 〈◊〉  
Even at our own weapons the Females defeat  
And death, only death, can sign our Quietus▪  
Not to tell ye sad stories of liberty lost,  
How our mirth is all palled, & our pleasure all 〈◊〉  
This Pagan confinement, this damnable station,  
Shits no order; nor age, nor degree in the nation.  
The Levite it keeps from Parochial duty,  
For who can at once mind Religion & Beauty?  
The rich it alarms with expenses and trouble,  
And a poor Beast you know can scarce carry double.  
'Twas invented, they'll tell you, to keep us from falling,  
Oh the virtue and grace of a shrill caterwauling.  
But in pales in your Game. Ah but how do you know, Sir,  
How often your Neighbour breaks up your enclosure.  
For this is the principal comfort of Marriage,  
You must eat, though a hundred have spit in your Porridge.  
If at night you're unactive, and fail of performing,  
Enter Thunder and Lightning, and Bloodshed next morning.  
Cries the Bone of your side, thanks dear Mr. Horner,  
This comes of your sinning with Crape in a corner.  
Then to make up the breach, all your strength you must rally▪  
And labour, and sweat like a Slave at the Galley  
Yet still you must charge, oh blessed condition  
Tho you know, to your cost, you've no mor● Ammunition  
Till at last my dear mortified Tool of a man,  
You're not able to make a poor flash in the 〈◊〉  
Fire, Female, and Flood begin with a Letter,  
And the world's for them all not a farthing th● bette●  
Your Flood soon is gone, and your Fire you ma● humbl●  
If into the Flood store of Water you tumble;  
But to cool the damned heat of your Wife's 〈◊〉 tillatio●  
You may use half the Engines, and Pumps in th● Nation  
But may piss out as well the last Confiagration.  
Thus, Sir, I have sent you my thoughts of 〈◊〉 matte●  
Judge you as you please, but I scorn to flatter▪   

The Fable of the Bat and the Birds. In Imitation of that of the Buzzard in the Hind and Panther. In the year 1689.  
IN ancient times, as learned Aesop shows,  
'Twixt Birds and Beasts a fatal War arose.  
But whether this from State Intrigues did flow,  
Or to some Church pretence its birth did owe,  
Or depredations made, concerns us not to know.  
Weighty, you may be sure, the cause was thought,  
Which such an universal tumult wrought.  
Picqueering parties first began the fray,  
A sad presage of the ensuing day.  
At last the War was solemnly proclaimed,  
The hour of fight set, and both the Leaders named.  
The foolish Bat, a Bird obscene and base,  
The scorn and jest of all the feathered race;  
●r by fantastic fears, and scruples led,  
Or by ambition moved, his party fled,  
Joined with the Beasts, and eager to engage,  
With popular Harangues urged on a feeble rage.  
As fortune would, on an ill-fated day,  
The Beasts drew out their forces in array:  
The different kinds their grudges laid aside,  
And for the common safety now provide.  
Even their old piques, and warm disputes forgot  
The Hind and Panther joined upon the spot;  
And by one mutual league of friendship held,  
Prepare for the rough business of the field.  
When lo! the Birds in numerous bands 〈◊〉  
And with repeated cries attack the Rear;  
Give a fierce charge, and back like Parthians 〈◊〉  
To repossess their patrimonial Sky:  
Then straight descending, with redoubled 〈◊〉  
They spend their fury, and renew the fight.  
Pale Victory, all trembling and dismayed,  
With doubtful Wings the purple Scene survey  
At last, propitious to her feathered kind,  
Declared her favour, and the Scale inclined.  
Whole Hecatombs the covered field possessed,  
And gave their foes at once a Triumph 〈…〉 east·  
Their slaughtered 〈…〉 Dam's deplored,  
And many a 〈…〉 Cow mourned o'er her Horned Lord.  
The generous Eagle (so his Stars ordain)  
Chases th● affrighted Lion from the Plain:  
Their General gone, the rest like Lightning fly,  
A cheap unfighting herd, not worth the Victory  
And now the Birds with eager haste pursue,  
Thro lanes, and devious tracks, the scattered crew  
Among the rest, beset with dangers round,  
The trembling Bat was in a Cellar found:  
'Tis pity fame ne'er Chronicled his taker,  
But all Records agree, they sound him near Long-acre.  
Perched on a Pole, they brought him to the Bar,  
Where the full house sat talking of the War.  
Strait at the sight, a various noise began,  
Which thro' the spacious Hall, and neighbouring Lobby rat●  
Each Member in the public mirth concurred,  
And drolled upon the poor Apostatising Bird.  
First Parrot Settle opened wide his throat,  
Next Cuckoo Rhymer always in a note;  
And Peacock Chetwood, of the Clergy kind;  
But his Poetic Feet disgraced the train behind.  
And Creech, and Norris, Blackbirds of renown  
And cormorant Higden, for devouring known.  
Nay, to augment the hardship of his woes,  
Owl Durfy clapped his wings, and hooted in the close●  
When now their Raillery began to spare,  
(And faith 'twas too too much for one Bird to bear)  
The Eagle ordered silence in the room,  
And thus aloud pronounced the shivering Lub●ber's doom  
Beast of a Bird, thus to desert thy friends,  
And join the common Foe, for base ungenerous ends;  
What punishment can suit so black a crime?  
Hear then, and stand accursed to all succeeding time·  
From all our Diets be thou first expelled,  
Or those in flowery Groves, or those on Steeples held,  
When our gay Tribes in youthful pomp appear,  
To join in Nuptial bands, & meet the smiling year.  
Nay more, to make thee mortify and grieve,  
To Buzzard Shadwell we thy places give.  
Him we appoint Historian of our State,  
And Poet Laureate of the Woods create.  
Outlawed our Realms, and banished from the light,  
Be thou for ever damned to steal abroad by night.   

Antenor's Speech in the Second Aeneid, applied to the Declaration for Liberty of Conscience. In the year 1687.  Timeo Danaos, et dona ferentes. 
YOu dull Dissenters, what vain folly blinds  
Your senses thus, and captivates your minds?  
Think you this proffered Liberty is free  
From Tricks, and Snares, and Papal Treachery  
Think you 'twas meant according to the Letter  
Oh that such plodding heads should know th● Pope no better  
Trust me, this kindness either was designed  
T' inflame our quarrels, and our weakness find  
Or else the breach was opened at a venture,  
That at one hole both Cowl & Cloak might ente●  
Pray Heaven there be no farther mischief mean●  
But I'm afraid there's Roman Opium in't.  
Be't what it will, the gilded Pill suspect,  
And with a smiling scorn your proffered fate reject  
A Papist, though ungiving, means you evil,  
But when he scatters gifts and mercies, he's th● Devi●   

A satire upon an Ignorant Quack that murdered a Friend's Child, and occasioned the Mother upon the news of it to Miscarry.  
Tho' 'twas thy luck to cheat the fatal Tree,  
Thanks to the partial herd that quitted thee;  
And, to the lasting scandal of our times,  
thou'rt still reserved to act anew thy crimes,  
Think not to escape the justice of my ●imes.  
Th' impartial Muse, in pointed stabbing Verse,  
Shall all thy several Villainies rehearse:  
With wreaths of Henbane she'll adorn thy Head,  
●he'll hunt thee living, & she'll plague thee dead.  
Base sordid Monster! Mercenary Slave!  
Thou Churchyard Pimp, & Pander to the Grave,  
Death's busy Factor, Son of Desolation,  
Thy Country's curse, and grievance of the Nation.  
Thou motley lump of ignorance and pride,  
In all the scoundrel arts of 〈…〉▪  
How shall I tell thy guilt, or how begin  
To lash a Villain crusted o'er with sin?  
Sure in some Powder-mill that hot-brained So●  
Thy Father, in the Dog-days thee begot:  
And some She-Bear, in horrid Woods alone,  
Suckled thee young, and nursed thee for her ow●  
Hence thy sour brutal temper first began,  
The Beast was thinly plated with the Man:  
No beams of softening pity touch thy breast,  
Too vile a Cell to harbour such a Guest.  
Oh hadst thou lived in that cursed Tyrant's reign,  
By whose command the Innocents' were slain,  
Herod might then have saved his men the pain  
At Bethlem to knock out the Child's brains.  
Thy Pills alone the fatal work had done▪  
And soon dispatched them every Mother's Son  
Why with our laws vain Volumes do we ●ill,  
If such as thou have privilege to kill?  
Mean, lousy Felons, for less Crimes by far  
Have oft received their sentence at the Bar:  
●th' face of day thou robbest us of our health,  
And yet art never questioned for the stealth.  
Sure some dire Planet all thy steps pursues,  
●ame All-kill, and a sickness straight ensues.  
Thro thy destroying skill Diseases reign,  
Nor did a Blacksmith teach thee first in vain;  
Not Sword, nor Plague, nor Famine ravage more,  
Thou killest, and Fate has hardly time to score.  
Death, though unsought, waits on thy murdering Quill▪  
attends each Dose, and lurks in every Pill.  
●ith little pains, and very little bribing,  
●hole Nations might be killed by thy prescribing  
〈◊〉 know, dull Sot, the dreadful hours at hand,  
●hen before awful Justice thou must stand.  
〈◊〉 Muse her ancient freedom does assume,  
〈◊〉 tremble, while she thus proclaims thy doom·  
For Grubstreet Doggrel furnish out a Tale,  
And be the jest of Midwives o'er their Ale:  
For scalded heads most learnedly advise,  
And in the case of Kibes, seems monstrous wise  
Be ne'er consulted 'bove a Boil, or Blister,  
And to my Lady's Lap-dog give a Glister.  
If thou hast a mind to pick up nasty pence,  
Set up for Farrier in thy own defence.  
Cure Hogs of Measles, visit labouring Swine,  
And order Doses for thy Neighbour's Kine.  
Reign over Beasts, from Barsheba to Dan,  
But never, never meddle more with Man.  
May none seek help from thy damned remed●  
But senseless Brutes that health & fame 〈◊〉  
But Sots, on whom each canting fool impose  
And Carted Bawds, & Strumpets without 〈◊〉  
Be the most scorned Jack-pudding in the pack  
And turn Toad-eater to some foreign Quack  
Gout, Pox, and Stone, with all attending ills,  
Thou hast so often threatened in thy Bills,  
Thee, with fresh rage incessantly devour,  
And leave their pointed darts in every poor.  
Let them with force united make thee smart,  
And own thyself a Blockhead in thy Art,  
From these insulting Tyrants find no quarter,  
But to thy own Prescriptions fall a Martyr.  
On thy vile self the baleful potions try,  
Then damn old Galen, and by piecemeal die.  
But let no Fever, (for I'll once be kind)  
Or Pestilence to thee admission find:  
Those generous Foes too soon conclude their rage,  
I'd have thee tortured for at least an age.  
May all that malice, fruitful to torment,  
All that revenge of Priesthood can invent;  
All that on earth despairing Wretches fear,  
Light on thy head, and kindly centre there.  
Marked with heaven's stamp, like Adam's murdering Son  
Thro the whole Globe, a branded Villain run,  
And all Mankind the raving Monster shun.  
Despised, abandoned, rove from Pole to Pole,  
Thy carcase jaded by thy restless soul.  
Where'er thou goest, a Mother's curses meet  
Pale Nurses thee with execrations greet,  
And wrinkled Witches when they truck with 〈◊〉  
Invoke thy Name, and use it for a Spell.  
Blaspheming leave the world, and never know▪  
The least remitting interval from woe.  
Dire Conscience all thy guilty dreams, affright  
With the most solemn horrors of the night,  
The screams of Infants ever fill thy Ears,  
And injured heaven be deaf to all thy Vows 〈◊〉 Praye●  
Thus I have eased in part my wrathful spleen  
Nor canst thou say the Muse has been too keen.  
Whate'er the fiercest satire can inspire,  
●alls vastly short of what thy Crimes require.  
What punishment can too severe be thought  
●or thee, by whom such numerous ills are wrought?  
●he living sent to an untimely Tomb,  
●nd unborn Infants murdered in the Womb.  
●or seized with grief that by thy fatal aid,  
●er much wronged Child was of its life betrayed,  
●he expiring Parent, whomscarce art could save,  
●aid an untimely Tribute to the Grave.  
●o what degree do Quacks like thee, annoy,  
Who can even life, before it comes, destroy?   

An Inscription upon a Tobacco-Box.  By Dr. Sparke— 
CUm tetris Pandoram armarent fata venenis,  
Fatali erupit pyxide dira lues.  
〈◊〉 faciles secura dederunt munera Divi,  
Una fuit pestis pyxidis, una salus.   

An Imitation of it in English.  
WHen with rank poison Heaven equipe Pandor●  
She opeed the Box like a Confounded Whore●  
And of Diseases straight flew out a score a.  
But now since jove, like a good-natured Brothe●  
Gives us the Indian weed to funk and smother  
One Box has made atonement for another.   

Upon Burning some Anti-Monarchi●● Books to the Memory of King Charl●● the First, in the year 1691.  
CArole gentis honos, sate Carole sangui● Divu●●  
Qui major magnis annumeraris Avis,  
Relligio accepit, quo principe, nostra coronam,  
Quo vivente de●us, quo moriente fidem.  
Haec damus ul●rici damnata volumina flamma●  
Manibus inferias, sancte Monarcha, tuis,  
Seu tulerint Batavae funesta venena paludes,  
Seu dederit saevam Scotia dira luem.  
Sic semper pereat, quaecunque lacessere Charta  
Vel Reges ausa est, vel tetigisse Deos.   

To Mr. D— upon his most incomparable Ballads, called by him Lyric Odes.  

1.  
THou Cur, half French, half English Breed,  
Thou Mongrel of Parnassus,  
To think tall lines run up to seed  
Should ever tamely pass us.   

2.  
Thou writ Pindarics, and be damned,  
Writ Epigrams for Cutlers;  
None with thy Lyrics can be shamm'd  
But Chambermaids and Butlers.   

3.  
In t'other World expect dry blows,  
No tears can wipe thy stains out;  
Horace will pluck thee by the Nose,  
And Pindar beat thy brains out.    

To Mr. Higden, upon the ill success o● his Play.  
NO longer your expected Play conceal,  
But to a more impartial Court appeal▪  
The righteous few, true to the cause of Wit,  
Will soon reverse the Sentence of the Pit.  
Why should their censure men of sense alarm  
Those Sons of Muggleton can do no harm.  
The Wit, that oft their hasty Malice dooms,  
Outlives its Judges, nay, outlasts their Tomb●  
Thus 'twas my fate to visit once a Friend,  
Whom dire fore-boding Omens did attend:  
The Doctor tells him, Sir, your hour is nigh,  
Send for the Parson, and prepare to die.  
In vain the help of Physic you implore,  
Art has been tried, but Art can do no more.  
With this the angry Patient raised his head.  
And Doctor, do you then conclude me dead?  
Peace, you grave Sot, elsewhere your Cant bestow,  
I'll bury half the College ere I go.  
And spite of that learned Phyz, & reverend Beard,  
Will live to see your Rascalship interred.  
Thus he ran on, and as his Stars decreed,  
Was soon from his unkind distemper freed;  
Left his vain gaping Kindred in the lurch,  
And saw the Velvet Fop born decently to Church.   

To the same, upon his Play's being damned, for having too much eating and drinking in it.  
FRiend Harry, some furious pretenders to thinking,  
Say thy Play is encumbered with eating & drinking  
That too oft in all Conscience thy Tables brought out,  
And unmerciful healths fly like Hail-shot about.  
Such a merry objection who e'er could expect  
That does on the Town, & its pleasures reflect  
Are a dish & a bottle grown quite out of fashion  
Or have the spruce Beaux found a new recreation  
Else why should these Fops be so monstrous un●civi●●  
As to damn at a Play, what they like at the Devi●   

Upon persecuting it with Cat-calls.  
WHen to Molock of old, by way of oblation  
Any Jew of his Son made a wicked do●natio●●  
The Preisthood with Trumpets and Drums mad● a noi●●  
To stifle his groans, and extinguish his cries.  
Thus our fierce modern Heroes, those Jews 〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉  
When to damn a poor Author's attempt th● think  
With Cat-calls so dreadful the house they alar●  
●est the wit of the Play should their fury disar●  
Howe'er they may pass with the rest of the nation,  
Tho their malice I blame, I commend their discretion.  
For 'tis but convenient you'll readily own,  
That the Beast should perform, what the Man would disown.   

The extravagant Lover, out of French▪ 1684.  

1.  
HOw quickly are Love's pleasures gone▪  
How soon are all its mighty Triumphs done!  
In vain alas! do we the Banquet taste,  
Whose sweets are swift as thought are past.  
In vain do we renew the fight,  
Whom even the first alarms do basely put to flight.   

2.  
Happy great jove! who in Alcmena's arms,  
For three full nights enjoyed Love's charms,  
Nature turned Bawd, her Monarch to obey,  
And pimping darkness shut out day,  
Whilst in vast joys the half-spent God did sweat,  
Joys as his lightning fierce, & as his Godhead great.   

3.  
Bravely the Game begun! Oh had it mounted higher,  
Fed still with vig'orous thought, & fresh desire.  
Were I but jove, my boundless reign should prove  
But one continued Scene of Love.  
In ecstasies would I dissolving lie,  
As long as all the mighty round of vast eternity.    

A Translation of Teucer Salamina, Patremque Cum fugeret, etc. Hor. Ode seven. lib. 1.  

1.  
BRave Teucer, (as the Poets tell us)  
When from his native Clime he fled,  
With Poplar wreaths crowned his triumphant head  
And thus he cheered his drooping fellows.   

2.  
Where e'er the Fates shall show us land,  
(Remote and distant though it be)  
We'll shape our course at their command,  
And boldly fix as they decree.   

3.  
Let no wild fears your hopes betray,  
Let no despair your Courage pall,  
When Heaven so loudly does to honour call,  
And fearless Teucer leads the way.   

4.  
Phoebus' foretold (and he of all the powers  
Commands the mystic Books of fate)  
That fresh success should on our actions wait,  
And a new Salamis be ours.   

5.  
Then drink away this puling sorrow,  
Let Wine each dastard thought subdue,  
Let Wine your fainting hopes renew,  
We'll leave the drowsy Land, and plough the Main to morrow.    

Ode ix. Lib. 1. in Horace imitated. Vides ut alta stet nive candidum, etc. Written in the year, 1685. To Sir john Bowyer.  

1.  
SInce the Hills all around us do penance in Snow,  
And Winter's cold blasts have benumbed us below;  
Since the Rivers chained up, flow with the same speed  
As Prisoners advance towards the Psalm that can't read,  
Throw whole Oaks at a time, nay, Groves on the fire,  
They shall be our Sobriety's funeral pyre.   

2.  
Never wast the dull time in impertinent thinking,  
But urge & pursue the great business of drinking;  
Come pierce your old Hogsheads, ne'er stint us in Sherry,  
This this is the season to drink and be merry:  
Then revived by our Liquor, and Billets together,  
We'll out-roar the loud storm●, and defy the cold weather.   

3.  
Damn your Gadbury, Partridge & Salmon together  
What a puling discourse have we here of the weather.  
Nay, no more of that business, but, Friend, as you love us,  
Leave it all to the care of the good folks above us.  
Your Orchards and Groves will be shattered no more,  
If, to hush the rough winds, they forbidden them to roar.   

4▪  
Send a Bumper about, and cease this debate  
Of the tricks of the Court, & designs of the State.  
Whether Brandon, or Offly, or Booth go to pot,  
Ne'er trouble your Brains, let 'em take their own lot,  
Thank the Gods you can safely sit under your Vine,  
And enjoy your old friends, and drink off your own Wine.   

5.  
While your Appetite's strong, and good humour remain▪  
And active fresh blood does enliven your veins,  
Improve the fleet minutes in scenes of delight,  
Let your Friend have the day, and your Mistress the night  
In the dark you may try whether Phyllis is kin●  
The night for Intreaguing was ever designed.   

6.  
Tho she runs from your arms, & retires in the sha●  
Some friendly kind sign will betray the coy Mai●  
All trembling you'll find the modest poor sinne●  
'Tis a venial trespass in a beginner:  
But remember this counsel, when once you hav● met 〈◊〉  
Get a Ring from the Nymph, or something that's bette●    

〈◊〉 Imitation of the 6th Ode in Horace, l. 1. Scriberis vario fortis, & hostium— In the year, 1685. after the defeat of the Rebels in the West.  

1.  
WAller, in neverdying Verse,  
Your glorious Triumphs may rehearse;  
〈◊〉 lofty Muse for Panegyric famed,  
〈◊〉 sing the Rebel-herd your valour tamed.  
And all the mighty Blessings show  
●eat james, and We to your wise conduct owe.   

2.  
〈◊〉 unambitious Lyre tunes all her strings,  
To lower numbers, lower things;  
〈◊〉 Gods, and Godlike Hero●s does refuse,  
〈◊〉 labour of a more exalted Muse.  
Had she endeavoured to relate  
●●eat Alexander's deeds, or Troy's unhappy fate,  
●r all the wonders that by Drake were done,  
●ho travelled with the Stars, and journeyed with the Sun,  
As long a space had the vain labour held,  
As that famed Town the Grecian force repelled  
As long had she the tiresome work renewed,  
As mighty Drake thro' unknown Seas his wondrous Course pursued   

3.  
The humble Muse too well her weakness know●  
Nor on her feeble self, dares the high Task impos●  
Tho had not Heaven the Power denied,  
No other Theme had all her Thoughts employed  
'Tis hence she modestly declines to sing,  
The immortal Triumphs of our warlike Kin●  
Lest her unequal slender vein  
Should lessen the great Actions of his glorio●● reig●   

4.  
Who can with all his boasted fancy raise,  
To its just height Heroic Arthur's praise,  
Or worthily recount the Trophies won  
By our great Edward, and his greater Son?  
But oh what Muse of all the Tribe below  
Can mighty Mars in equal numbers show,  
Horrid in steel, and moving from afar,  
With all the solemn pageantry of War,  
Tho the rough God should his own Bard inspire,  
And join the Martial heat to the Poetic fire.   

5.  
Harmless Combats, harmless Wars,  
Slender Scratches, petty Jars,  
Which youthful Blood, and wanton Love,  
Amongst our amorous Couples move,  
Employ my time, employ my muse,  
All all other subjects I refuse.    

Prologue spoken before the University of Oxford, 1683.  
WHen Greece overwhelmed in the wide Deluge lay,  
And all the Land was one continued Sea,  
The Muses ●ill secure and lofty stood,  
Above the vain attempts of the insulting flood.  
There good Deucalion first saluted Land,  
Put in his Boat, and touched the happy Stran●  
So when wild Faction all our Land alarmed,  
Our Land by the prevailing Jugglers charmed  
When pregnant with dire seeds the Clouds did●●  
Presaging Civil Tempests in our Skies.  
Here Godlike Charles did a safe harbour win,  
Here laughed at all the threats of daring sin,  
And shunned the popular Deluge as it cam● rolling 〈◊〉  
With you no perjured Bog-trotters were foun●  
With Meal-tub Plots, & Armies underground  
Rogues, that would damn themselves for 〈◊〉 a Crown  
Rogues, that for one poor draught of middle 〈◊〉  
Would hang a Parish, and for Tripe a Shire●  
'tis true, some few you had, but Traitor's 〈◊〉  
Here to receive, not to deserve their doom.  
So Paradise the Serpent gained at first,  
Entered the blessed Abodes, but straight he was accursed.  
This is your happiness:  
But we are still alarmed with senseless noise,  
Guildhall Elections, and lewd frantic cries.  
Tired with dull Managers of duller Plots,  
And freeborn Slaves, and Magna-Charta Sots.  
Oh would the Town a pattern take from you,  
Whom the worst times still found to Caesar true▪  
Discords would cease, ill-natured jars retire,  
And every Muse in Charles' praise conspire.  
Peace with her Train would guard our Halcyon shore,  
And Britain envy Saturn's Age no more.   

EPILOGUE.  
NOt with more grief the Whiggish herd beheld  
Their Plots discovered, their Intrigues revealed,  
And all their Godly Villainies run down;  
Than now we feel, to leave your happy Town.  
Now must our Tribe, since we depart from yo●  
Shake hands with Learning, and bid Wit adieu  
With doggrel Rhymes the stupid rout appease,  
And murder English perfectly to please.  
So some to get an Alms a lameness feign,  
And by pretended halting pity gain.  
When to some Town our strolling Troops 〈◊〉  
Leave's to be granted by the worthy Mayor:  
He with his numerous Train first takes his seat,  
Below his Scarlet Brethren fill the Pit.  
Then even our Women must less gay appear,  
Leave Painting off, lest they should seem more fai●  
Than the pale Daughter of the Reverend Mayor  
If we in acting, as our part requires,  
Swear by the Gods, and all the heavenly fires,  
The Sot pricks up a wondrous pair of ears,  
‛ My zeal no longer such profaneness bears,  
Twelve pence for every Oath your Hero swears  
Wit here, triumphant, bears an ample sway,  
And the bright Metal shines without allay;  
Nothing is here condemned for being good,  
Nor talk we Nonsense to be understood.  
But though your Learning the whole Isle inspires,  
Your Townsmen warm not by the neighbouring fires,  
Born in the happy place, where Wit does rule,  
They keep their natural right of being dull.  
So the rude Nations, where with greatest light  
The revealed Truth was first exposed to sight,  
By no rewards, no miracles reclaimed,  
Would even in spite of Providence be damned.  
How e'er our Courtiers do their fate dispose,  
Dullness the Charter is they'll never lose.   

An Imitation of a French Ode, in the ingenious Monsieur St. Evremont'● Works. Tome 2.  

1.  
WEll, whate'er sins by turns have swayed 〈◊〉  
Ambition never ruled my heart;  
It's lewd pretences ne'er betrayed me  
In public Ills to act a part.  
Let others, fame and wealth pursuing,  
Despise a man but safe retreat,  
I'll ne'er contrive my own undoing,  
Nor stoop so low as to be great.   

2.  
The saithless Court, the pensive Change,  
What solid pleasures can they give?  
Oh let me in the Country range!  
'Tis there we breathe, 'tis there we live.   

3.  
The beauteous Scene of aged Mountains,  
Smiling Valleys, murmuring Fountains,  
Lambs in flowery Pastures bleating,  
Echo our complaints repeating.  
Bees with busy sounds delighting,  
Groves to gentle sleep inviting.  
Whispering winds the Poplars courting,  
Swains in rustic circles sporting;  
Birds in cheerful notes expressing  
Nature's bounty, and their blessing.  
These afford a lasting pleasure,  
Without guilt, and without measure.    

To a Gentleman that cut off his hair, and set up for a Spark in his old Age. Out of Martial. Epig. 43. lib. 3. Mentiri● juvenem, etc.  
THou that not many months ago  
Waste white as Swan, or driven Snow,  
Now blacker far than Aesop's Crow,  
Thanks to thy Wig, settest up for Beau.  
Faith Harry, thou'rt in the wrong box,  
Old Age these vain endeavours mocks,  
And time that knows thou'st hoary locks,  
Will pluck thy Mask off with a pox.   

Part of the 2d Ode in Horace l. 4. Tra●●slated. Beginning at Dignum 〈◊〉 Virum.  

1.  
FRom dark oblivion, and the silent grav●  
Th● indulgent Muse does the brave Hero sa●  
'Tis she forbids his name to die,  
And brings it to the Stars, & sticks it in the 〈◊〉   

2.  
Thus mighty Hercules did move,  
To the Eternal Palaces above:  
Not all his twelve exploits advanced him to 〈◊〉  
But 'twas the Poet's pain and labour 〈◊〉 him 〈◊〉   

3.  
Thus the famed Spartan Twins did rise,  
●rom Ornaments of Earth to gild the Skies.  
Tho Heaven by turns they do obtain,  
Yet in immortal Verse, the Brothers jointly reign.   

4.  
●nd Bacchus too, for all his vain pretence,  
Borrowed his Crown and Godhead hence:  
●e with his powerful juice first taught the Muse to fly,  
And she in kind requital gave him immortality.    

Henrico Higden Arm. Cum infoeliciter ipsi Comaedia cesserit. 1693.  
QUod inquieta voce, risu, sibilis,  
Salesque comptos & innoxios jocos,  
●uperba Bruti turba sic exceperit.  
Quod purpuratus Infans, & vecors Eques,  
Summoque Meretrix in subsellio sedens,  
Totusque delicatulorum circulus,  
In te, tuumque conjuraverint opus.  
Nolito in iras irritas erumpere,  
Damnare Musas, increpare Apollinem,  
Caelosque votis improbis lacessere.  
Quin, Drama tandem luce donans publica,  
Invisi● orbem, quin timoris inscius,  
Vanas Maligniorum despicis minas?  
Abunde damnum sic resarcies prius,  
Fa●aeque consules; Lector dabit libens  
Quod improbus spectator abnegaverat.   

On the Treatment of the Moder● Drama. By Mr Kn— of Magd. Col●  
ONce Bear and Champion did engage  
In mortal fray on Roman Stage:  
Our Moderns have revived the matter,  
The former Age renewed in latter,  
And made Bear-garden of Theatre.  
Here Beau, the only Modish Brute,  
With honest Authors does dispute:  
And as on Roman Stage predicted,  
Fell wound on Champion was inflicted,  
When stout Bruino kept his station,  
Invoking Brother Constellation  
To assist him in the disputation:  
To curry poor Heroic hide well,  
And harrow carcase, back and side well;  
But though he got a bloody rump on't,  
His Honour still came off Triumphant.  
So though the Pit Grimalkins, that maul  
With wicked Serenade of Catcall,  
Oft rout a poor Dramatic He●o,  
(As Teague was once by lero, lero.)  
A well-writ Play, like Ruffians treat,  
Confound the Scene, and Plot defeat,  
In spite of all the Dammee Chorus,  
Th' immortal Wit is still victorious.  
I then, in person of an Author,  
Since good Dramatics have no growth here,  
Like pious Felons doomed to be  
Made Pendulum for Gallow-tree;  
That gives advice, lest sinful Mortal,  
Like him his days in Hemp should curtail,  
Advise you all to leave off Writing,  
The mortal sin of well enditing.  
But if no counsel can be used  
By rhyming wretch when once be-mused,  
(For Crown and Bum there's such a curse in,  
They're ne'er at ease, but when untrussing)  
Since wholesome Salt of Author seasoned,  
To taste of Nation is unpleasant,  
(When busy Noddle's next in labour,  
And has a need to purge on Paper)  
Invoke the bastard race of Phoebus,  
Skilled in Acrostic, Pun, and Rebus,  
With spirit of late Marriage-hater,  
T' assist to make Lampoon on Nature,  
And even on Farce itself a satire;  
●or that alone gives titillation,  
And saves poor Poet from damnation.   

An Imitation of Vxor vade soras. In Mart. l. two. Ep. 105. By Capt. Ht—  

SWeet Spouse, you must presently troop and be gone,  
Or fairly submit to your betters,  
Unless for the faults that are past, you atone,  
I must knock off my Conjugal-Fetters.   

2.  
When at night I am paying the tribute of Love,  
You know well enough what's my meaning,  
You scorn to assist my devotion, or move,  
As if all the while you were dreaming.   

3.  
At Cribbage and Put, and All Fours I have seen  
A Porter more passion expressing,  
Than thou, wicked Kate, in the rapturous scen●  
And the height of the amorous blessing.   

4.  
Then say I to myself, is my Wife made of Ston●  
Or does the old Serpent possess her;  
Better motion and vigour by far might be show●  
By dull Spouse of a Germane Professor?   

5.  
So Kate take advice, and reform in good time,  
And while I'm performing my duty  
Come in for your Club, and repent of the crim●  
Of paying all scores with your Beauty.   

6.  
All day thou mayst cant, and look grave as a Nu●  
And run after Burgess the surly;  
Or see that the Family business be done,  
And chide all thy Servants demurely.   

7.  
But when you're in Bed with your Master & King,  
That tales out of School ne'er does trumpet,  
Move, riggle, heave, pant, clip me round like a Ring,  
In short, be as lewd as a Strumpet.    

An Imitation of the 14th Epode in Hor  

1.  
ASk me no longer dear Sir john,  
Why your Lampoon lies still undone,  
'Fore George my Brain's grown addle,  
Nor bid me Pegasus bestride,  
Why should you ask a Sot to ride,  
That cannot keep his saddle.   

2.  
This was the poor Anacreon's case,  
When doting on a smooth chinned face  
He pin d away his carcase.  
To tune his strings the Bard essayed.  
The Devil a string the Bard obeyed,  
And was not this a hard case?   

3.  
If you a constant Miss have gor,  
Thank heaven devoutly for your lot,  
Such blessings are not common.  
While I, condemned to endless pain,  
Must tamely drag Belinda's chain  
Yet know she's worse than— Woman.    

A translation of Ode xxii. lib. i Vitas Hinnuleo.  

1.  
WHy flies Belinda from my arms,  
Or shuns my kind embrace,  
Why does she hid her blooming charms,  
And where I come forsake the place.   

2.  
Like some poor Fawn whom every breath  
Of air does so surprise,  
In the least wind he fancies death  
And pants at each approaching noise.   

3.  
Alas! I never meant thee ill,  
Nor seek I to devour thee,  
Why shouldst thou then with coldness kill  
The dying slave that does adore thee.   

4.  
Leave, leave thy Mother's arms for shame,  
Nor fond hang about her,  
thou'rt now of age to play the game,  
And ease a Lover's pain without her.    

A Translation of Ode iii. L. 1. in Horace Sic te Diva potens, etc. Addressed to his Honoured Friend Mr. B— going into Turkey.  

1.  
SO may the Beauteous Goddess of the Main  
Appease the horrors of the Deep,  
And Aeolus lock all his blustering train,  
But the auspicious Western Gales asleep.   

2.  
And thou, kind Vessel, which before this da●  
So great a charge couldst never boast,  
With care my dearer, better part convey,  
And land him safely on the Thracian Coast.   

3.  
His fearless heart immured with triple Brass  
The daring Mortal surely wore,  
Who first the faithless Main durst pass,  
And in a treacherous Bark new Worlds explore   

4.  
What scenes of Death could shake his Soul  
That unconcerned saw the wild Billows rise,  
And scaly Monsters on the surface roll,  
And whizzing Meteors paint the gloomy Skies.   

5.  
In vain wise heavens indulgent care  
Lands from the spacious Ocean did divide,  
If with expanded Sails bold Ships prepare  
To blow the deep, and brave the swelling Tide.   

6.  
But Man, that busy reasoning Tool,  
Cheap happiness disdains to choose,  
Sick of his ease, the restless fool,  
At his own cost forbidden paths pursues.   

7.  
From the refulgent Orb of day  
A glittering Spark the rash Prometheus stole,  
And fond stamped into a Soul,  
T' inform his new-made Progeny of Clay.   

8.  
Straight to reward his Sacrilegious Theft,  
Fevers and Ills, unknown before,  
Their old infernal Mansions left,  
And thro' the sickening air their baleful poison bore   

9  
Then Death, that lately travelled slow,  
Content with single Victims, where he came,  
Made haste, and eager of his Game,  
Whole Nations lopped at one compendious blow   

10.  
To what fantastic heights does Man aspire,  
Doomed to dull Earth, the Sot would clamber higher  
Heaven he invades with impudent pretence,  
And makes jove thunder in his own defence.    

An Imitation of an Epigram 44. in Mart. lib. iii. Occurrit tibi nemo quod libenter, etc.  
THat Cousins, Friends, and Strangers fly thee,  
Nay, thy own Sister can't sit nigh thee;  
That all men thy acquaintance shun,  
And into holes and corners run,  
Like Irish Beau from English Dun:  
The reason's plain, and if thou'dst know it,  
thou'rt a most damned repeating Poet.  
Not Bailiff sour, with horrid Beard,  
Is more in poor Alsatia feared,  
Since the stern Parliament of late  
Has stripped of ancient rights their State:  
Not Tigers, when their Whelps are missing▪  
Nor Serpents in the Sunshine hissing;  
Nor Snake in tail that carries rattle;  
Not Fire, nor Plague, nor Blood, nor Battle,  
Is half so dreaded by the throng  
As thy vile persecuting Tongue.  
If e'er the restless Clack that's in it  
Gives thy Head leave to think a minute,  
Think what a penance we must bear  
Thy damned impertinence to hear.  
Whether I stand, or run, or sit,  
Thou still art i'th' repeating fit:  
Wearied I seek a nap to take,  
But thy cursed Muse keeps me awake.  
At Church too, when the Organ's blowing,  
Thy louder pipe is still a going.  
Nor Park, nor Baguio's from thee free,  
All places are alike to thee.  
Learn Wisdom once, at a Friend's instance,  
From the two Fellows at St. Dunstan's,  
Make not each man thou meetest a Martyr,  
But strike like them but once a quarter.   

SONG, By Mr. Gl—  

1.  
PHyllis has a gentle heart,  
Willing to the Lovers courting,  
Wanton nature, all the Art  
To direct her in her sporting.  
In th' embrace, the look, the kiss,  
All is real inclination;  
No false raptures in the bliss,  
No feigned sigh in the passion.   

2.  
But oh! who the Charms can speak,  
Who the thousand ways of toying,  
When she does the Lover make  
All a God in her enjoying?  
Who the Limbs that round him move,  
And constrain him to her blisses,  
Who the Eyes that swim in love,  
Or the Lips that suck in kisses?   

3.  
Oh the freaks! when mad she grows,  
Raves all wild with the possessing,  
Oh the silent Trance! which shows  
The delight above expressing.  
Every way she does engage,  
Idly talking, speechless lying,  
She transports me with the rage,  
And she kills me in her dying.    

On Dr. Lower, who was observed to b● grown good-natured a little befor● his Death. By another hand.  
HAd not good humour o'er the ill prevailed  
Death in attempting Dr. Lower had failed▪  
For he, alas, good man, in health declined,  
By changing the bad manners of his mind:  
And 's very Understanding got a Cough,  
By leaving an old habit too soon off.  
For had he kept his humour most austere,  
He might have yet lived with us many a year,  
Preserved in his own pickle, Vinegar:  
But when the Alkali had killed the sour,  
His blood being sweetened, off trooped Dr. Lower.   

Verses put into a Lady's Prayer-book. Supposed to be written by the late Earl of Rochester.  

1.  
FLing this useless Book away,  
And presume no more to pray;  
Heaven is just, and can bestow  
Mercy on none but those that mercy show.  
With a proud heart, maliciously inclined,  
Not to increase, but to subdue mankind;  
In vain you vex the Gods with your Petition,  
Without repentance, and sincere contrition,  
You're in a Reprobate condition.   

2.  
Phyllis, to calm the angry powers,  
And save my Soul as well as yours,  
Relieve poor Mortals from despair,  
And justify the Gods that made you fair.  
And in those bright and charming Eyes  
Let pity first appear, than love,  
That we by easy steps may move  
Thro all the joys on earth to those above.    

The Fable of the Horse and the Stag  By Mr. S— 

1.  
THe Horn-armed Stag denied the Horse  
The privilege of the Common,  
Till starved, for want of equal force,  
He begged assistance from Man.   

2.  
For why? resolved at any rate  
To get his share of Pasture;  
He rather chose to champ the Bit,  
Than leave the Stag sole master.   

3.  
With Man astride he marched to fight  
A foe that durst not face him,  
For he with strangeness of the sight  
Was frighted from his grazing.   

4▪  
Nor had Sir Palfry much to brag  
He got by this adventure,  
Since Man, from routing of the Stag,  
Commenced perpetual Centaur.    

A Translation of Lesbian mi dicit semper male. Out of Catullus.  

1.  
EAch moment of the long-lived day  
Lesbian for me does backwards pray,  
And rails at me sincerely;  
Yet I dare pawn my life, my eyes,  
My soul, and all that Mortals prise,  
That Lesbian loves me dearly.   

2.  
Why should you thus conclude, you'll say,  
Faith 'tis my own beloved way,  
And thus I hourly prove her;  
Yet let me all those curses share  
That heaven can give, or man can bear,  
If I don't strangely love her.    

On one Becker, a Parson of Amsterdam who in a Book entitled, The World Bewitched, pretends to prove there is but one Devil.  

PLures O Beckere negas dum Daemonas esse  
Contra te gens est imperiosa tua.   

Thus in English.  
More Devils than one why does the Sot deny?  
All Holland gives his argument the lie.    

The Fable of the Wolf and Porcupine. In answer to The Argument against a Standing Army.  

1.  
ISgrim with hunger pressed, one day  
As through the Woods he posted,  
A Porcupine found on the way,  
And in these terms accosted.   

2.  
Our Wars are ended, heaven be praised,  
Then let's sit down and pr●ttle  
Of Towns invested, Sieges raised,  
And what we did in Battle.   

3.  
The Plains a pleasing prospect yield,  
No fire, nor desolation;  
While plenty reigns in every field,  
And Trade restores the Nation.   

4.  
Yet you your Quills erected wear,  
And though none seeks to harm ye,  
In time of Peace about you bear  
Methinks a Standing Army.   

5.  
Friend, quoth the Porcupine, 'tis true,  
The War's at length decided,  
But against such tricking Blades as you  
'Tis good to be provided.   

6.  
Censorious Fame shall never say  
That too much Faith betrayed me;  
Who thinks of me to make a prey,  
Must at his cost invade me.   

7.  
Let him, that thinks it worth the while,  
Tempt Knaves to make a Martyr,  
The Sharpers that would me beguile,  
Sh●ll find they've caught a Tartar.    

The Fable of Apollo and Daphne.  

1.  
APollo once finding fair Daphne alone,  
Discovered his flame in a passionate tone;  
He told her, and bound it with many a curse,  
He was ready to take her for better, for worse▪  
Then he talked of his smart,  
And the hole in his heart,  
So large, one might drive thro' the passage a Cart.  
But the silly coy Maid, to the Gods great amazement,  
Sprung away from his arms, and leapt thro' the Casement.   

2.  
He following cry●d out, my Life and my Dear,  
Return to your Lover, and lay by your fear.  
You think me perhaps some Scoundrel, or Whoreson,  
Alas, I●ve no wicked designs on your person.  
I'm a God by my trade,  
Young, plump, and well-made,  
Then let me caress thee, and be not afraid.  
But still she kept running, and flew like the wind,  
While the poor pursy God came panting behind▪   

3.  
I'm the Chief of Physicians, & none of the College  
Must be mentioned with me for experience and knowledge:  
Each Herb, Flower, and Plant by its name I can call▪  
And do more than the best Seventh Son of 'emall  
With my Powders and Pills,  
I cure all the ills,  
That sweep off such numbers each week in the Bills  
But still she kept running, and flew like the wind  
While the poor pursy God came panting behind   

4.  
Besides I'm a Poet, Child, into the bargain,  
And top all the Writers of famed Convent-garde●  
I'm the prop of the Stage, and the pattern of Wit,  
I set my own Sonnets, and sing to my Kit.  
I'm at Wills all the day,  
And each night at the Play;  
And Verses I make fast as Hops, as they say.  
When she heard him talk thus, she redoubled her speed,  
And flew like a Whore from a Constable freed.   

7.  
Now had our wise Lover (but Lovers are blind)  
●n the language of Lumbardstreet told her his mind,  
Look Lady what here is, 'tis plenty of Money,  
Odsbobs I must swinge thee, my joy & my honey.  
I sit next the Chair,  
And shall shortly be Mayor,  
Neither Clayton nor Duncomb with me can compare  
Tho as wrinkled as Priam, deformed as the Devil,  
The God had succeeded, the Nymph had been civil.    

Labienus' Speech in Lucan's Pharsalia▪ Translated by Mr. Dennis.  
FUll of the Godhead in his Breast enshrined,  
He in these words explains his mighty mind;  
Words which oraculous jove might dictate to mankind.  
And what should I of these vain Priests inquire▪  
If I should rather thus in Arms expire,  
With these high thoughts, & this unconquered fire,  
Than live ingloriously to hail a King,  
And my great Soul to vile Subjection bring?  
What should I ask, if nothing be in Death,  
And nothing in this idle vapour, Breath?  
If the Good only be supremely great,  
Of Fortune independent, and of Fate?  
If the brave Patriot's glorious in distress,  
And Tyrants despicable in success?  
If in magnanimous attempts to fail  
Merits renown, as much as to prevail.  
This should I ask? all this I know, I feel:  
And how should Hammon inborn truths reveal?  
Why should the Powers their sacred Wills explain,  
Since all we do, say, think, those Powers ordain,  
Our wills are linked to theirs by Fate's eternal Chain.  
God wants not men his meaning to convey,  
But in one breath said all that he can say;  
In that informing breath that kindled up our Clay▪  
Nor would he build in barren Sands his seat,  
That he to Fools ill Verses might repeat,  
And hid eternal truths in this obscure retreat.  
To jove what certain seat can be consigned?  
Where can the World's great Ruler be confined?  
This Universal Frame's the seat of that Eternal Mind.  
Why should we seek him in this mystic Grove,  
wherever eye can reach, wherever thought can rove,  
Substance and space is all unbounded jove.  
Let those who live in doubt (a foolish state)  
Consult these mighty Confidents of fate,  
Her irreversible decrees my constancy create▪  
Alike the Coward and the Brave must fall,  
This mighty jove has once declared for all,  
And these inspiring sounds to Roman actions 〈◊〉   

The 63d Epigram in Martial, Lib. 3 Translated by Mr. P— Cotile belus homo es, etc.  
OH jemmy you're a Beau, not I alone  
Say this, but 'tis the talk of all the Tow●  
Prithee be free, and to thy friend impart  
What is a Beau— Ay Sir, with all my heart.  
He's one who nicely curls and combs his hair,  
And visits Sedgwick monthly all the year:  
Sings bawdy Songs, and humms them as along  
Flaunting he walks thro' the admiring throng·  
All the day long sits with the charming fair,  
And whispers pretty stories in their ear.  
Writes Billets doux, shuns all men as he goes,  
Lest their unhallowed touch should dawb his clothes.  
He knows your Mistress. Nay, at every Feast  
He'll tell the Pedigree of every Guest.  
●s this a Beau? Faith jemmy I'll be plain,  
A Beau's a Bauble, destitute of Brain.   

To an old affected Court Lady.  By a person of Honour. 

1.  
TEll me, Dorinda, why so gay?  
Why this Embroidery, Fringe and Lace?  
Such Ornaments expose decay;  
Cannot Dukelly find a way  
●o shade the ruins of thy face?   

2.  
Wilt thou still ogle In the Box,  
And glitter in the ring?  
Hast thou forget thy age, and pox?  
Can all the spoils of Shells and Rocks  
Make thee a fine young thing?   

3.  
So have I seen in Larder dark,  
Of Pork a rotten Loin,  
Adorned with many a heatless spark,  
As grave Philosopher's remark,  
At once both stink and shine.    

To Belinda. Upon her Marrying o●● that was Blind and Lame.  By a person of Honour. 

1.  
BElinda's sparkling Wit and Eyes  
United, dart so fierce a light,  
As quickly flashes, quickly dies,  
Wounds not the heart, but hurts the sight.   

2.  
Love is all gentleness and joy,  
Smooth are his looks, and soft his pace;  
Her Cupid is a Blackguard Boy,  
That runs his Link full in your face.   

3.  
Proud with the spoils of Royal Cully,  
With vain pretence to sense and parts,  
She swaggers like a battered Bully,  
To try the temper of men's hearts.   

4.  
Her Bed is like the Gospel-feast,  
Where the invited never came;  
So, disappointed of her Guest,  
She takes up with the Blind and Lame.   

5.  
Tho she's as sparkling, and as fine  
As Jests, and Gems, and Paint can make her,  
She ne'er can wound a heart like mine,  
So Devil, and Sir D— take her·    

To his Cruel Mistress. Out of French.  

1.  
'TIs then decreed, and now I find  
I'm for a Sacrifice designed;  
Since my imperious Fair denies  
Rest to my Soul, and slumber to my Eyes.   

2.  
Go● ache a Kiss, Love whispers in my ear;  
But love, alas! gives way to fear.  
Awful respect the aspiring flame commands,  
Ties up my tongue, and binds my hands.   

3.  
Ah! must your bleeding Lover die,  
And see his balm, and see his cure so nigh?  
Or fierce, and eager of the bliss,  
Shall he presume to seize a balmy Kiss.   

4.  
No— he'll ten thousand deaths endure,  
And all the rigours of his fate attend,  
ere he'll by Sacrilege attempt his cure,  
And his dear Bellamette offend.    

An Ode upon a Kiss. Out of French.  

1.  
NAy, now ambitious thoughts farewel,  
I pity Kings in all their state,  
While thus in Lesbia's arms I dwell,  
And mighty Love does on my Triumphs wait.   

2.  
Thus let me languishing expire,  
Encircled in her snowy arms,  
Till she revives me with her charms,  
And pours into my breast a nobler fire.   

3.  
Thus let me sigh my Soul away,  
And revel in immortal bliss,  
Thus let me spend th' auspicious day,  
And crown each smiling moment with a Kiss.   

4.  
Adonis ne'er was half so blest,  
Nor half the pleasure shared, as I:  
Tho Love's bright Goddess him carest,  
And in her arms hugged the delicious Boy.   

5.  
Nor jove himself such transports knew,  
When Danae's charms the captive God did hold,  
Tho he, the pleasure to pursue,  
Mortgaged his poor Almighty ship to Gold.   

6.  
A thousand Loves in solemn state  
On those two rosy lips reside,  
While busy I, with eager pride,  
Sip all their sweets, and bless my happy fate.   

7.  
Now on her glowing Breasts I range,  
Now kiss her Cheeks, and now her Eyes;  
The pleasure's heightened by the change,  
And fills me with unruly joys.   

8.  
But ah! my Beauteous Nymph beware  
How you increase my store,  
For else your pampered Slave may dare,  
Drunk as he is with joy, to press for something more   

9  
For say, fond Lovers, what you will  
To deify a Kiss,  
'tis but a pledge, or Prologue still,  
To the succeeding Acts of Bliss.    

A Sapphic Ode in the Valesiana.  
DUlcius quam fit putat esse mollis  
Virgo quod nescit, sitis inde magna  
Cognitae nondum Veneris puellas Torquet adultas.  
At recordantur Viduae peractas  
Cum viris noctes, sit is inde major  
Cognitae dudum Veneris priores Suscitat ignes.  
Virgini ignosci, Viduaene malis?  
Illa quod nescit cupit experiri  
Haec quod experta est, avet: inde Virgo Aequius ardet.   

A Translation. Principio, Coelum, & Terras, Titaniaque astra Spiritus intus alit, totumque insusa per artus Mens agitat molem—  
I'Ll sing how God, the world's almighty Mind,  
Thro all infused, and to that All confined;  
Directs the parts, and with an equal hand  
supports the whole, enjoying his command:  
How all agree, and how the parts have made  
strict Leagues, subsisting by each others aid.  
How all by Reason move, because one Soul  
●ives in the parts, diffusing thro' the whole.  
For did not all the friendly parts conspire  
To make one whole, and keep the Frame entire;  
●nd did not Reason guide, and Sense control  
The vast stupendious Machine of the whole;  
●arth would not keep its place, the Skies would fall,  
●nd universal stiffness deaden all.  
Stars would not whirl their round, nor day nor night▪  
Their course perform, but stop their usual flight▪  
Rains would not feed the Fields, and Earth deny▪  
Mists to the Clouds, and Vapours to the Sky.  
Seas would not fill the Springs, nor Springs return▪  
Their grateful Tribute from their flowing Ur●  
Nor would the All, unless contrived by Art,  
So justly be proportioned in each part;  
That neither Seas, nor Skies, nor Stars exceed  
Our wants▪ nor are too scanty for our need.  
Thus stands the Frame, and the Almighty Soul▪  
Thro all diffused, so turns, and guides the whole▪  
That nothing from its settled station swerves,  
And Motion altars not the Frame, but still pre●serves▪  
This God, or Reason, which the Orbs does move▪  
Makes things below depend on signs above:  
Tho far removed, though hid in shades of night,  
And scarce to be descried by their own light.  
●et Nations own, and men their influence feel,  
●hey rule the public, and the private will:  
●he proofs are plain. Thus from a different Star  
●e find a fruitful, or a barren year;  
●ow grains increase, and now refuse to grow,  
●ow quickly ripen, now their growth is slow.  
●he Moon commands the Seas; she drives the Main  
●o pass the Shores, then drives it back again.  
●nd this Sedition chief sweells the streams,  
●hen opposite she views her Brother's beams;  
●r when she near in close Conjunction rides,  
●erears the Floods, and swells the flowing Tides;  
●r when attending on the yearly race,  
●he Equinoctial sees her borrowed face.  
Her power sinks deep, it searches all the Main,  
testaceous fish, as she her light regains.  
●●crease, and still diminish in her wane.  
●or as the Moon in deepest darkness mourns,  
●hen rays receives, & points her borrowed horns,  
Then turns her face, and with a smile invites  
The full effusions of her Brother's Lights,  
They to her Changes due proportions keep,  
And show her various Phases in the deep.  
So Brutes, whom Nature did in sport create,  
Ignorant of themselves, and of their fate,  
A secret instinct still erects their Eyes  
To parent Heaven, and seems to make them wise  
One at the New Moon's rise to distant shores  
Retires, his body sprinkles, and adores.  
Some see storms gathering, or serenes foretell,  
And scarce our Reason guides us half so well.  
Then who can doubt that Man, the glorious Prid●  
Of all, is nearer to the Stars allied?  
Nature in Man's capacious Soul has wrought,  
And given them Voice expressive of their thought  
In Man the God descends, and joys to find  
The narrow Image of his greater mind.  
But why should all the other Arts be shown?  
Too various for productions of our own.  
Why should I sing how different tempers fall,  
And inequality is seen in all?  
How many strive with equal care to gain  
The highest prize, and yet how few obtain?  
Which proves not Matter sways, but Wisdom rules  
And measures out the bigness of our Souls.  
●●re Fate stands fixed, nor can its Laws decay,  
●is Heaven's to rule, and Matter's essence to obey.  
Who could know Heaven, unless that Heaven bestowed  
●he knowledge? or find God, but part of God?  
●ow could the space Immense be e'er confined  
within the compass of a narrow mind?  
●ow could the Skies, the Dances of the Stars,  
●heir motions adverse, and eternal wars,  
●nless kind Nature in our Breasts had wrought  
●oportion'd Souls, be subject to our thought?  
Were Heaven not aiding to advance our mind▪  
To know Fate's Laws, and teach the way to 〈◊〉  
Did not the Skies their kindred Souls improve  
Direct, and lead them thro' the Maze above,  
Discover Nature, show its secret springs,  
And tell the sacred intercourse of things.  
How impious were our search, how bold o● cou●●  
Thus to assault, and take the Skies by force.  
A most convincing Reason's drawn from Se●●  
That this vast Frame is moved by Providence,  
Which like the Soul does every whirl advance  
It must be God, nor was it made by chance,  
As Epicurus dreamt: He madly thought  
This beauteous Frame of heedless Atoms wrought  
That Seas and Earth, the Stars and spacious Ai●  
Which forms new Worlds, or does the old▪  
First rose from these, and still supplied remain,  
And all must be, when Chance shall break the Chain  
Dissolved to these wild Principles again.  
Absurd and Nonsense! Atheist use thine Eyes,  
And having viewed the order of the Skies,  
Think, if thou canst, that Matter blindly hurled,  
Without a Guide, should frame this wondrous World.  
But did Chance make, and Chance still rule the whole,  
Why do the Signs in constant order roll?  
Observe set times to shut and open day?  
Nor meet, nor justle, and mistake their way?  
Perform their Course, as if by Laws confined,  
None hasten on, and leave the rest behind.  
Why every day does the discovering flame  
Show the same World, and leave it still the same?  
And even at night, when time in secret flies,  
And veils himself in shades from human Eyes,  
Can by the signs Men know how fast he fled,  
And in the Skies the hasty Minutes read?  
Why should I count how oft the Earth has mourned  
The Sun's retreat, and smiled when he returned?  
How oft he does his various course divide  
'Twixt Winter's Nakedness, and Summer's Pride?  
All Mortal things must change. The fruitful Plai●  
As seasons turn, scarce knows herself again;  
Such various forms she bears: Large Empires too  
Put off their former face, and take a new:  
Yet safe the world, and free from change does last,  
No years increase it, and no years can waste.  
It's course it urges on, and keeps its frame,  
And still will be, because 'twas still the same.  
It stands secure from time's devouring Rage,  
For 'tis a God that guides, nor can it change wi●● Ag●    

Miscellaneous Letters.  

LETTER I. A Letter to the Duke of Buckingham, by the famous Monsieur St. Euremont. Oeures Melees, Tom Sec. p. 51. Done into English.  
My Lord,  
AN humble Servant of yours here in Town, Monsieur Borne by name, is so fully satisfied of the reality of your Reformation, that he expresses himself in these terms to all that have the honour to know you.  
I dare venture my own Salvation upon the same bottom with that of the Duke of Buckingham, so firmly do I believe the sincerity of his Conversion.  
Conversion, says Mr. Waller to him, have a care what you say: People don't use to be converted now adays so easily. This new reformation you talk of in the D. of Buckingham is owing neither to you, nor me, nor yet to any man living.  
'Tis a new Friend of his, but one that has been dead, the Lord knows how many hundred years ago, that has very lately brought about this miraculous change that so surprises us.  
I mean Petronius Arbiter, the most delicate man of his age, for Poetry, Painting, and Music. One that perpetually studied and pursued pleasure, one that turned the day into night, and the night into the day, but at the same time so absolute a Master of himself, that whenever his affairs required it, he was one of the most regular men in the Universe.  
The Duke of Buckingham, who has long ago resembled him in a thousand other qualities, was resolved of late to imitate him too in this. Thus I have shown you, Monsieur Borne, from whence proceeds this alteration in his Grace's Life, which you it seems have mistaken for a Conversion.  
But with both these gentlemen's leave, I shall account for it after another manner.  
'Tis a certain Maxim with me, that no man of a nice palate can love vice, when once it ceases to be agreeable, so for my part I don't wonder that a person of so refined and delicate a taste, as your Grace, takes up with the virtue of Continence in the North, where you have no objects to tempt and disturb you. But I dare engage that if we had you here in Town, and showed you some of our topping Beauties, that have charms enough to conquer the most insensible, we should soon find the new Convert of Monsieur Borne, and Mr. Waller's new Petronius, to be nothing in the World, but the true genuine Duke of Buckingham.  
Heaven forbidden that I should ever be so wickedly given as to dissuade your Grace from so comfortable a quarter as Love. But I have another Sin to propose to you, which of yourself you would never guests, and yet I recommend it sincerely to you, and from the bottom of my heart. I confess it has a Scurvy name, and the World calls it Covetousness, however it would be of more advantage to your Grace, than the Wisdom of Philosophers, and the glory of Conquerors. To be short, I should rather choose to see your Grace copy any of the Heroes in Lumbardstreet, than either Socrates or Caesar. Where the difficulty is great, the merit of surmounting it is great. Now all the World knows that your Grace will find it infinitely more troublesome to you to imitate the former, than the two latter Gentlemen.  
As we don●t all on the sudden arrive to the height of perfection, I am not so vain as to expect you should practise all the rules of Oeconomy at first sight, nor so morose as to advise you to deny yourself every thing, amongst so great an affluence as surrounds you All I beg of your Grace is, that you would have a watchful eye upon your City friends, that have the fingering of your Money, to keep them honest in spite of themselves. For unless out of tenderness to their Souls, you hinder them from playing the Knaves, I dare swear for them that they would venture damnation a hundred times a day, and all in your Grace's service.  
And now if you think it worth your while, when you come next to London, to bring a small retinue with you, but a great deal of money in your pocket, you will certainly be the wonder of the whole Nation. If you neglect this advice, the greater part of the World will never be for you, and you must content yourself with a few admirers in private, of whom I shall always be the first, who am  
Your most Humble Servant.   

LETTER II. A Letter to the Duchess of— By the same hand.  
I Have presumed, Madam, to send you some advice, though I am sensible how little you La●dies care to receive any. But let the effect be what it will, I am too much in the interest of your Beauty, not to inform you, that you'll injure it extremely, should you be so ill-advised as to set off, and adorn yourself after the fashion of the Court Ladies on the Queen's Birthday. Let others of your Sex make use of ornaments: for, properly speaking, they are but so many artificial helps, which we employ to cover the defects of nature, or else to give us some agreements that are wanting in our persons. But Heaven be praised, Madam, you lie under no such necessity. Every ornament that is bestowed upon you, hides a charm, as every ornament that is taken from you, restores you some new graces, and you are never so lovely, as when we behold nothing in you, but yourself.  
The greatest part of the Ladies lose themselves very advantageously under their dress. How many indifferent faces pass well enough with Jewels and Diamonds, and Conquer hearts by Candle-light, that would make a very sorry figure without them. The richest Necklace in the World would have an ill effect upon you. It would make some alteration in your person, and every alteration that happens to a perfect Beauty, would certainly be for the worse  
Leave others then to ruin themselves by their Jewels and other Decorations; nature that has been at so vast an expense to frame you, has saved you that charge. You, Madam, would be very ingrateful, and we should discover but a wretched taste, should we not be equally content, with that profusion of gifts she has heaped upon you.  
I would counsel you, Madam, to take the same measures on her Majesty's Birth day, which the famous Bussi d' Amboise formerly observed at a Tournament. Being informed beforehand that all the Noblemen of the Court designed to put themselves to an extraordinary expense in their Equipages and clothes, he ordered those of his retinue to be dressed like Lords, and appeared himself in the plainest dress in the World at the head of so rich a train. The advantages of nature were so conspicuous in the person of Bussi, that he alone was taken for a great Lord, and the other Noblemen, that relied so much upon the magnificence of their habits, passed but for Valets.  
Govern yourself, I beseech you Madam, by the Example of Bussi: Let your Women be attired like Duchess', but as for yourself appear in the ordinary dress of a Country Nymph, with nothing but the charms of your Beauty to recommend you: All the Ladies will be taken for your Women, and the plainness of your habit will not hinder you from outshining all the Queens in the Universe.  
I have no great inclination to tell stories, which perhaps is nothing but the effect of an ill-grounded Vanity, that makes me prefer the expressing of what I imagine, to the reciting of what I have seen. The profession of a Story-teller sits but awkwardly upon young People, and is downright weakness in old men. When our wit is not arrived to its due vigour, or when it gins to decline, we then take a pleasure in telling what does not put us to any great expense of thought. However, I will for once renounce the pleasure, which I generally take in my own imagination, to recount to you a short adventure, which I once saw happen at the Hague.  
During my residence in that place, some malicious Daemon, put it one day into the head of a certain Count and his Friend, to draw the eyes of the Spectators after them. To put which noble design in execution, they both resolved that their dress should have all the magnificence which this part of the World was able to give it, and at the same time discover the goodness of their invention.  
The Count, who was one of the nicest men of his age, had a thousand singularities to distinguish him. He had a Plume of feathers in his Hat, which was buttoned up by a Diamond, the largest that could be found, for this occasion. He wore about his Neck some Point de Venise, which was neither a Cravat nor a Band. 'Twas a small Ruff, which had served him formerly instead of a Golille when he liv●d at Madrid. After this, Madam, you would expect to find him in a Doublet, after the Spanish manner, but, to your surprise, I must tell you it was an Hungarian Vest. Then the Ghost of Antiquity haunted his memory, so he covered his ankles with Buskins, but infinitely richer than the ancient Romans used to wear them: on which he had ordered his Mistress' name to be written in Letters that were extremely well designed, upon an embroidery of Pearls.  
From his Hat down to his Vest, 'twas all singular, and odd and fanciful. By the latter you would have taken him for the Count de Serini, or some Beau of Quality dropped out of the Hungarian world; and an old Picture of Caesar or Scipio had inspired him with the noble thought of wearing Buskins.  
As for his friend, he had apparelled himself ●fter as extraordinary a manner as he possibly ●ou'd, but it was in the modern French way. His Cravat reached down to his middle, and had stuff enough in it to make a sail for a Barge. A most prodigious Cravat-String peeped from under his Chin, the two corners of which, in conjunction with a monstrous Periwig, that would have made a Laplander sweat under the Northern Pole, eclipsed three quarters of his face. In short, he was so be-ribboned all over, that one would have thought all the Milliners in the place, had joined their Stocks to furnish him.  
This, in short, was the equipage of our Messieurs, when they made their appearance in the Voorhout, which is the place where persons of Quality use to take the air, and divert themselves.  
They were scarce entered upon the spot, when multitudes ran from all hands to gaze and stare at them; and as every body was surprised at so fantastic a scene, they could not tell at first whether to admire it as extraordinary, or to ridicule it as extravagant. In this uncertainty of thought, as they were going to determine it one way or another, Monsieur de Louvigni arrived in the place, and put a stop to their grave Contemplation. He wore a plain black suit, and clean linen made up the rest, but then he showed one of the finest shapes, and most agreeable face that can be imagined. His modest de●portment silently insinuated the merits of all hi● excellent qualities. Having thus described hi● charms to you, 'tis no difficult matter to gue●● how the Company received him. The Ladie● were touched, and the Men were infinitely pleased. In short, Madam, all the Spectator were as much affected, as the poor Count an● his Friends were mortified, to their great disap●pointment.  
People still remember at the Hague how tri●umphantly Monsieur de Louvigni came off, an● still make sport with telling the ill success of th● two aforesaid Gentlemen.  
I need not give myself the trouble, Madam to make a formal Application of this story to you who have a judgement so exqusitely nice an● discerning. Let my advice meet with what en●tertainment it will, none of your subjects pray● so hearty for your long and happy reign ove● us, as  
Madam, Your most humble Servant, &c▪   

LETTER III. To Madam— By the same hand.  
AS nothing is to honourable as an ancient friendship, so nothing is so scandalous as an 〈◊〉 passion. Undeceive yourself, Madam, of 〈◊〉 false merit of being faithful, and take it for a ●●rtain truth, that constancy is the only thing in 〈◊〉 World, that can bring the reputation of your ●●auty in question. Who knows whether you ●●solved to love but one person, or whether it was ●our unhappiness ●o find but one single Lover. ●alicious people will be apt to fancy the latter.  
You vainly imagine that you practise a virtue, ●hile alas you make us suspect you have de●●cts which we don't perceive. In the mean time ●●nsider how many inquietudes accompany ●is pretended virtue, and what a vast difference ●ere is between the disgusts that an old engagement gives us, and the pleasant conflicts of a ●owing passion.  
In a new Amour we pass every hour of the da● with new satisfaction. 'Tis an unexpressible plea●sure to find that our love grows upon us ever● minute; but in a passion of an old standing, o● time is spent very uneasily, in still loving less, o● not loving at all.  
We may live well enough with persons that a● indifferent to us; either common civility, o● good manners, or the consideration that the● may sometimes be serviceable to us, may reconcile us to it. But how miserably do we pass our live with them whom we love, when we find th●● we are not beloved again.  
I have only four words more to say to you, an● I will be so free with you as to desire you to ma●● some reflection upon them. If you continue sti●● to place your affection upon that, which oug●● to displease you, 'tis a sign you have none of th● best tastes: and if you have not resolution enough to quit that which makes you uneasy, 'tis a dow● right weakness: you ought to put it into your ●●●tany, and pray to be delivered from it.   

LETTER IU. Out of the Reflections of Monsieur Villiers, p. 149. To his much esteemed friend, Monsieur—  
Remember, that the last time I had the honour 〈◊〉 of your conversation, we happened to talk of ●●●eral persons that made a great ostentation of their piety, and p●ssed for Saints in the places ●here they lived, who as we had just occasion to ●●spect, by their overacting the Farce, were ●wnright Cheats, if truly examined. I was going to confirm this with a story, that lately fell ●●thin my own observation; but happened to be interrupted by the coming in of fresh company, ●hich put a stop to the discourse. However, as ●is worth your knowing, I have given my ●f the trouble to send you a full account of it in ●s Letter.  
About a month ago I had occasion to travel to the Country with two Ladies, one of them a young Marchioness, descended of one of the n●●blest Families in the Kingdom; the other a Lawyers' Widow, about fifty years old, who took 〈◊〉 same title upon her, though the meanness of her ●●●traction, and her Husband's employment, th●● was none of the most honourable, might ha●● secured her, one would have thought, from so ●●●diculous a temptation. But being le●t very ric● her own Vanity, and the complaisance of h●● Friends had made her a Marchioness, and this w●● the title she received on all occasions, and at 〈◊〉 challenged as her due.  
I had but little acquaintance with either of the● but I was engaged in this journey by a frie●● whose commands I could not well disobey, a●● who knew both these Ladies perfectly well.  
We were going to the Government of 〈◊〉 young Marchioness' Husband, where she was e●●pected, and preparations were made on the Road 〈◊〉 her reception; the old Marchioness travelling o●●ly as her Companion, however she had her sh●●● of all the Honours and Civilities that were 〈◊〉 to the other. At the first City where we arrive● as soon as we had alighted out of the Coach, 〈◊〉 young Marchioness was invited to a very pleas●●● walk without the Town, and it being Sum●●● time, she embraced the motion: but the old La●● taking an air of authority upon her, said it 〈◊〉 be much better to go to Church, and hear a go●● Sermon there. The young Marchioness told her 〈◊〉 ●ight go thither if she pleased, while she took a ●alk. This answer cruelly nettled the Widow, ●●t she dissembled the matter as well as she could, ●nd taking the next way to the Church, she de●●red me to bear her company thither. Although his fit of Devotion seemed somewhat unseasonable to me, yet good manners would not suffer me ●o let her walk alone. So with her I went, and ●ll the way had the satisfaction to hear her vent ●er godly spleen very plentifully at the young Marchioness; she told me a hundred reproachful ●●ories of her, nay, she did not forbear to censure ●ven her conduct. This language continued till he came into the Church-porch. I admired with ●y self how it was possible for so zealous a Ser●on-hunter to be so damnably censorious.  
All the while she was at Church she made up ●er mouth as demurely as the best of the Congregation; as soon as it was over, she re-assumed the ●ld argument, and railed on, as fast as her malicious Lungs would give her leave, till we came to ●he young Marchioness, who was still walking in ●he Garden. I had there an opportunity to discourse the young Lady in private, and to satisfy ●y self whether there had been any former quar●el between them, turned the conversation upon ●he old Marchioness, of whom she spoke in very obliging terms, and did not say the least Syllable 〈◊〉 her that was disrespectful. I than made no difficulty to conclude that this formal Hypocrite, that was perpetually disgorging broken ends o● Sermons, and pelting every body that came nea● her with Texts of Scripture, was nothing near 〈◊〉 virtuous at bottom as the young Lady, who kep● her Devotion to herself; and I made a thousan● Observations during this short journey, that su●●ly confirmed me in this opinion.  
The young Marchioness, who, as I told yo● before, made no great noise or bustle about her Reli●gion, spent but half an hour at her Toilette, an● always got ready one of the first for her Journey▪  
The old Lady spent no less than three hours' i● tricking herself, and made the Company perpe●tually tarry for her.  
Our Religious Dame, for all her pretences t● mortification, thought it no sin to patch an● paint herself: The Marchioness, content with he● face such as Heaven made it, scorned to have r●●course to such artifices.  
The former must always have her Jellies, an● Broths, and Caudles, and the Lord knows wha● brought to her before she would venture her c●●●cass out of Bed: the latter never thought of eating till the very moment before she went into he● Coach.  
The young Lady was always in good humo●● spoke well of every body, was satisfied with eve●● thing, and carefully avoided all the compliment and honours that were done her, in a Countr● where she was Mistress.  
On the other hand, the old Marchioness, who was a perfect Stranger in it, not only took every occasion to receive them, but was always complaining, that she had not respect enough paid her. The Beds were never good enough for her, the Dinner never pleased her, the Servants were always saucy or negligent, the Bills unreasonable, the Coachman either drove too ●ast or too slow: Still she found one opportunity or another to vent her pious indignation. No body's name could be mentioned to her, but still she found something to blame in their Conduct. Then she was the most imperious Devil alive to her Servants, none of her Women ever lived a full fortnight with her. In short, she was eternally railing, censuring, and backbiting, but still she did it with a godly air, and in the language of the Old Testament.  
If any one now should ask me the question, which of these two I thought to have the most Religion, I should immediately declare myself in favour of the young Marchioness, and yet to see how partially the World judges of Persons, the young Lady passes by common consent for a Woman that is wholly devoted to the World, and the other is universally taken for a Saint.  
Thus you see how easily the World is imposed upon, by a fair outside, and glittering appearances. 'Tis true your persons of sense see through these ●hin disguises, and are sensible of the cheat, but where you meet one of that character, you find ten thousand Fools that always assist to deceive themselves. A man of true Piety, that has no designs to carry on, like one of an established fortune, always make the least Noise. One never pulls out his Money, the other never talks of Religion, but when there's occasion for it.  
This puts me in mind of a passage that happened t'other day. I made a visit one afternoon to Madam * ● * where I found several City Ladies of the first magnitude. After a great deal of foolish Chat about the duty of Husbands, and the infidelity of the Men, some body in the room, by w●at accident I have now forgot, trumped up Sylvius' name, who you know is a man of great merit, and has the happiness to be well received by the fair Sex; Says a starched piece of formality, I wonder how he comes to make so many Conquests, but for my part, though he sighed a whole age at my Feet, I am sure I should never lose a moment's repose for him. I don't know the Gentleman, replies another Lady, but if he is what the World represents him, I dare not answer to my heart, that I could maintain it long against him. This latter spoke her Sentiments honestly, and without reserve, whereas the other was a dissembling Coquette that had buried two Husbands, and was looking out for a third, and if warmly attacked, would, I dare answer for her, swallow a temptation without making wry Faces, as readily as an● Usurer does an Orphan.  
But though a good reason may be given why we have so many Hypocrites in Religion, when they make their for●●●es by it; I could never comprehend the mystery, that the generality of the World should be such Asses to value themselves for things that are apparently false.  
Lucius is the Grandson of a Chimney-sweeper, all the World knows it, and yet the Sot values himself in all Companies upon his noble extraction, everlastingly talks of the services which his Ancestors have done the public. Yet, says a Gentleman to him one day, finding him upon this Strain, the public is obliged to your Ancestors; if it had not been for them Paris had been in danger of burning more than once.  
Stentor is one of the vilest preachers that ever murdered a Text. He has nothing but his lungs and impudence to recommend him. He had never learning enough at the College to get him a Degree, nor reputation enough in the City to get twenty Auditors together to sit with him throout, yet in all his Sermons this insect quotes Fathers and Counsels, with as much assurance as if he knew them, and talks of nothing but the vast multitudes that flock from all quarters to hear him.  
Aemelia is an antiquated Maid, censorious and deformed, she has often bribed Midwives and Persons, to proclaim her for a great fortune, and twenty times given money to be joined in a Lampoon, with twenty Sparks one after another, to try if something would come on't. But after all her intriguing she could never yet find any one Cully enough to marry her. Ye● she perpetually tells every one she sees, what advantageous matches she has refused in her time, such a Lords languished, and such a Knight run mad for her. And if you'll believe Captain Buff, the King has not disposed of the Government of a Fort these twenty years, but he has had the first offer of it.  
But I forget I am writing a Letter, and have launched into an Essay: Therefore I will end abruptly here, rather than trespass any longer upon your patience, and only beg leave to add that I am  
Your most Humble Servant.   

LETTER V A onsolatory Letter to Mr. H—  
SIR,  
I Am none of the best comforters in the world; however, yours is so common and easy a case, that any one may set up for a Doctor, and pretend to prescribe Remedies for it. You send me word you are a Cuckold, and desire my advice upon the matter: why is this a time to complain of Cuckoldom. You ought to have reconciled yourself to that point long ago, before you ventured into the Holy State, and not to mortify with the thought on't now, when you can't help yourself. A Soldier should consider before he lists himself, how he can bear the loss of an arm or leg; if he meets with an unlucky shot, 'tis but the chance of War, and if he comes off in a whole skin 'tis more than he could expect, and Providence used him better than he deserved. The Oracle in Rabelais, to which you are no stranger, long ago declared, that every married man either has been, or is, or will be a Cuckold, and could you ever hope to elude an Oracle? For my part, 'tis no more than what I expected to hear of you every post: you have been long jealous of your Wife, and now it comes home to you, for jealousy does as naturally ripen into Cuckoldom, as a Catterpillar into a horned Insect called a Butterfly. However, you have got this by the bargain, that it has cured you, God be thanked, of your jealousy, which is one of the worst torments a man can have; and who would not bear with a saucy Companion to get rid of the Devil. But after all, what you complain of is no disgrace, you share it in common with the Caesars and Pompey's, and most of the Heroes of former Ages, and with the N— and M— of this, besides an infinite number of Dukes, Marquess', Earls, Bishops, Knights, aldermans, Deans, Archdeacon's, Heads and Governors of Colleges and Halls; and who would regret to be joined in so good a Company?  
But your Family's dishonoured, and so perhaps it has been twenty times since the Conquest. I told you before I had no extraordinary hand at comforting. A thousand other Families have been subject to the same calamity, and why you should expect to far better than your Neighbours, I don't understand. But if I had deserved it from my Wife. Why so much the better still: Other people use to comfort themselves in their misfortunes, by reflecting upon their innocence, and why should not you? If your Wife has a fancy to go to the Devil let her ne'er lose her longing: rather than that should happen, do by her as Charles the fifth is said to do by a flying Enemy, build her a Bridge to go thither.  
Well, but what would you have me do? you say job, and Plutarch and Seneca, have been so often prescribed to people in your condition, that I won't offer them to you. My advice is then, that you'd come to Town as soon as you can, and take a Lodging in Cheapside or near Whitehall, and there I'll pass my word for't you'll be thought no monster: though you unmannerly folks in the Country stare at a Cuckold, as much as here we do at a King's Evidence just after a new Plot, yet London's a civil place, and we think him no prodigy here▪ But if your affairs won't give you leave to come to Town, my next advice is, to retalliate upon your Neighbours, plant Cuckoldom as thick as you can in your Hundred; and for that end get in with the Aunts, the Nurses, and Midwives; but above all, secure the Church, and get the Clergy on your side. When your numbers are grown pretty considerable, make a descent into the next Hundred, and so on, till you have made the whole County of a piece. When you have effected this, you'll be above the reach of scandal, your multitudes will protect you, and then you'll live as comfortably, as we do here in London. But what shall I do with my Wife? I have already told you; Build her a Bridge, and lose no time. I am,  
Your Loving Cousin, A. P.   

LETTER VI To W. K. Esq  
jan. 22. Dear Sir,  
'TIs a sign I am never weary of keeping a correspondence with you, since I can afford to do it at this terrible juncture, when the Ink friezes as I writ: But you must expect nothing else from me but what you would hear in every Coffee-house, were you in Town, and that is, to be entertained about the Frost. The common people here are of opinion, that the Northern Monarch, who has done us the honour of a visit, has brought his own Country Weather along with him, and they confirm it with a very good instance; for they remember that when the Morocco Ambassador was here, we had the hottest Summer that ever was known. Thus, according to these merry Philosophers, every Foreigner that comes to see us, takes care, like Nicholas in the Virtuoso, to bottle up some of the Air of his own Climate, and retails it among us here.  
It has been a general complaint, that all the Seasons but winter have been of late inverted. Mr. Flamsted you know has pretended that the Sun has been out of order this good while, and a friend of yours, who loves dearly to sit up a nights, being asked what was the reason that he never saw him, replied, that he could not endure to see sick folks. 'Tis no wonder that he can do no more in january, since for eight years' last passed, he has not been scarce able to maintain his Summer Quarters, and Winter has had the impudence to bully him even in his own Dog-days. Indeed, if he decays in proportion to what he has done of late, the Lord have mercy, say●, on Dr. Burnet's Hypothesis of the Charterhouse, for he'll be no more able to cause a general conflagration, than old Parr was to get a Bastard in the hundred and fifty second year of his age.  
But to leave off these metaphysical contemplations— If this severe Season lasts many days longer, it will as effectually try the orthodoxy of people's constitution, as the new A— concerning K. I— will show who is Staunch to the Government, and who not. We used to say in the late Reign, that if Popery proved to be long-lived, 'twould soon be found who were in the interests of the Whore of Babylon. But this frost, I conceive, will make truer and juster discoveries; for a man, if he's wickedly inclined, may play a thousand tricks with his faith and no body be the wiser; but the Devil is in him if such searching Wether (which penetrates deeper than the Inquisition) does not extort very unlucky confessions from his Carcase, especially if in his younger days he studied natural Philosophy in Covent Garden. I can't tell how it fares with you in the Country, but here in Town Water is scarcer than its opposite Element, Fire; so that 'tis dreaded by some understanding persons, that a stop will be put to Bap—m for some time, unless the C C—y can get Moses' Miracle of striking Water out of a Rock, or unless the C—ch will dispense with the use of Aquavitae in that case, as some will tell you they do in Norway, where at this time of the year Water is as great a rariety, as truth is at W— and most of the Courts in Christendom all the year round.  
A friend of mine happened yesterday to be in a Tavern Kitchen near the Customhouse, and complaining of the cold; Lord, says a Sea-Captain to him, this is nothing, Sir, to what I have felt, no more, as Gad shall judge me, than a Tooth-picker is to the Mainmast of the Britannia▪ I made the North East Voyage with Captain Wood, and have been in a Country, Sir, where they don't bury between Michaelmass and Lady-day. What said my friend, don't the people die all that time? Yes, a pox on them, they die fast enough, but the ground is as hard as a flint, so they are forced in their own defence to pile up ●heir dead Folks in the Belfry, as we do Faggots 〈◊〉 a Woodyard, and tie pieces of paper about ●heir Necks, for all the world, Sir, as your good Housewives in the Country do about their Cordial Bottles, to know them again, and so ●hey bury them at Spring of the year. Sir, says my friend to him, you seem to be an honest Gentleman, and I don't doubt but what you ●ell me is true; for I in my time have been a piece of a Traveller, and have passed a month or two among the Samoeids, where it is so excessive cold, that as in Italy and other hot Country's, they forbidden the Priests to preach out of ●he Canticles during july and August, for fear of putting some odd whimsies into the heads of the people: So here, the Patriarch of Moscow forbids ●ll the Clergy, under pain of suspension, not to make the least mention of the roasting that is used in the other world, lest they should set all ●heir Congregations a longing to be there. In ●hort, Noble Captain, the Parsons take as much ●are to conceal the Doctrine of H—ll fire, for ●he reason above mentioned, from the poor Inhabitants of this Country, as they do the Bible from the Laity in Spain. The Captain graciously ●hanked my friend for his News, and so they parted.—  
One would be apt to imagine 'twas in such weather as this that David penned the Psalm, where he advises people to look to their ways. The Streets are so excessive slippery, that a man runs thro' half the dangers of an East India Voyage, in passing only from Temple-bar to the Change in a Coach, and if he ventures it on foot, he●s obliged to walk with the same precaution upon the King's Highway, as your Fellows in Bartholomew-Fair manage themselves upon the high Rope. For want of observing this direction, a Country Gentlewoman t'other day met with a sad mischance at the corner of Fetter-lane, for up flew her heels, and off came her Commode, and she unluckily discovered a hideous breach in her Fabric, at which two Foot-Soldiers ran away in a fright, and a grave Citizen that passed by was exceedingly scandalised. The Physicians and Surgeons however are no losers by this Season, for what between Ptysick and Fevers, (which really make a handsome figure in the weekly Bill) and those providential Blessings called broken Arms and Legs, both professions find as much employment, as Dr Oate● will tell you the Pimps had at Whitehall in the Reign of King C. the second. Our Divines need not be over nice as to what they preach; for there is such everlasting barking in the Churche●, that though the Parson had the lung▪ of twenty Trumpeters, yet 'twere impossible to understand a syllable he says. Some Ptysicky old Gentleman leads up a Cough, his next Neighbour immediately takes the hint from him, ● ●hird pursues it, and so the Snowball rowls merrily on, till at last the whole Congregation ●oyns in the Chorus, and one side of the Church answers the other as regularly and harmoniously, as two contending Nightingales in a Hedge, or ●he Vicars in the new Choir at Paul's. The Thames is in great danger of being made a Captive, and of wearing Fetters, which he generously endeavours to throw off every Tide; and never was so true an emblem as now of that noble spirited Island, of which he is the defence as well as ornament, which can never have chains put upon it of any continuance.  
I am sorry to find by your last that your Neighbour Mr H— grows fat upon Marriage, ●or I don't see how he can answer it to his conscience. Marriage is a lean, hungry, craving ●oil, on which he that can batten, may raise an Estate in Scotland, or recover from an Ague by removing into the Hundreds. Ecclesiastical History tells us of a Bishop that suspended one of ●is Priests for no Crime, but because he had a ●ouble Chin. That Prelate cou●d not be persuaded that his Curate preached, and prayed, and minded the business of his Parish, so long ●s he carried such an unapostolical badge about ●im. Pray acquaint your friend Mr H— with this adventure of the double Chin, and ●ell him from me, that neither Canon, nor Civil, nor Common Law, will justify him in making a Sinecure of his Wife. I am,  
Your most humble Servant, &c▪   

SOME REMARKS UPON MARRIAGE.  
MArriage being the Port, or Haven, at which most of the Sons and Daughters of 〈◊〉 design to touch, sooner or latter; 'tis no wonder that People are universally curious, to know how this ticklish Ceremony is performed in other Countries. We find here at home that the firs● place in the Common-Prayer Book that youn● Maidens generally dip in, is the Service o● Matrimony. I once knew a raw Girl that could readily make all the Responses in that Office before she could Answer to one Question in he● Catechism. Which occasioned her Father, who was a grave old Gentleman, to wish that those of her Sex would take as much care to prepare themselves for their latter, as for this their first ●nd, for so it proves to most of them.  
It has been frequently said that Marriage and Hanging go by Destiny, but, for my part, I am ●o Predestinarian; neither do I believe, with ●he rest of the World, that Matches are made ●n Heaven, any more than I believe that all Oxen ●re bought and sold there, before they come to Smithfield Market. But tho' I am no admirer of Destiny, as I said before, yet I would not ●ave any one infer from thence, that I believe ●here's no manner of resemblance between Hanging and Marrying: For Hanging, with Reverence be it spoken, as well as Marrying, is performed by tying a Knot, which death only dissolves, and then they agree too in this particular, (which is more suitable to the occasion of ●he Book) that all civilised Countries in the World observe different Fashions in one no less ●han the other.  
The Roman Catholics make a Sacrament of ●atrimony, and in consequence of that Notion, pretend it confers Grace. The Protestant Divines done't carry Matters so high, but say this ●●ught to be understood in a qualified Sense, and ●hat Marriage so far confers Grace, as generally speaking, it confers Repentance, which every ●ody knows is a step to Grace.  
It must be confessed on all hands, that Marriage is the most serious Action that a Man can engage in, and therefore we ought to think of it, as we do of our Latter End, with Fear and Trembling. For this reason, I cannot endure to hear people pass their ill natured jests, upon so holy an Ordinance. If it is a Man's good fortune to meet with a good Wife, he ought to date his happiness is this World from that very Moment; and if she proves not as he desires; he ought to look over the Catalogue of his Sins, and interpret it as a Visitation, or at least to take i● patiently. For my part, commend me to tha● Gentleman, who having married a Lady, of a● extraordinary Capacity, never complained of hi● fate, nor made his Spouse uneasy, but honestly thanked God, that now he had a hole to 〈◊〉 his Head in.  
The Ladies that read a Book called Marriage Ceremonies, will find sufficient reason to than● Providence, that they were born in so good natured an Island as ours is, where the Preliminaries to Marriage are nothing near so morose and se●vere, as they are in some places in the World▪ To give an Instance of this, our Author of th● Marriage Ceremonies tells us, p. 51. among 〈◊〉 Sabrians (a sort of Mongrel Christians, that liv● on the Confines of Persia next Turkey) the Parti●● meeting together at Church, the Minister makes 〈◊〉 Bride swear before the Women, that she is a Virgi● As ill an opinion as the World unjustly entertains of our Females, I am very well satisfied that there are above Forty Thousand Conscientious Wives, within the Bills of Mortality, that would have lost all, before they would have taken so rash and ensnaring an Oath. How is it possible that a Woman should positively swear to an imaginary thing, which may be lost (the Lord knows how) between sleeping and waking? This I am sure of, that no Husband was ever a jot the securer, for prescribing Arbitrary and Unlawful Oaths.  
Yet as great a hardship as this may seem to be, it is nothing in comparison, of what hardships are practised in some Countries, even after the Nuptial Ceremonies are performed. Thus we find in the said Book p. 42. that among the Greeks, of the Women find in the Bed the next day any signs of a lost Virginity, they make a great Feast; but when that is wanting, they say nothing, the Bridegroom sending back the Bride to her Relations and Friends. The same inhuman Custom, is likewise observed by the Persians, as the Reader may see, p. 64. by the Moors of the Morocco, p. 73. the Inhabitants of the Kingdom of Fez, p. 75. by those of Algiers and Tunis p. 79, by the Spaniards who retain this Custom from the Moors, p. 22. and ●ately by the Jews in Barbary As for the latter ● done't wonder at it, to find such an usage among ●hem, because they were stiffnecked people, that was always demanding Signs, and Tokens; nor among Infidels and Mahometans; but that any Christians, that are happily freed from the Levitical Bondage, should still hanker after the old superstitious Leaven, is matter of the greatest astonishment to me. I cannot but reflect with horror, how many Ladies in England that now live comfortably with their Husbands, and are blessed with a numerous issue, had been Shamefully discarded and sent home, if ever such an unrighteous Fashion as this had got footing among us. It seems to argue a great deal of Cruelty in the Men, that they should relish no pleasure but what comes at the expense of their dearest Consorts. But it is my daily Prayer, that Providence will protect the Freeborn Women of England, from such bloody minded Husbands.  
But tho' the greatest part of the World, are so extravagantly fond of Virginity, yet we find there are some People that have other Notions of things. Our said Author p. 88 accquaints us, that when one of Conchin Marries, whosoever he is, he may not lie with his Bride the first Night, but is obliged to give her to a Bramino, who lies with her, and that they believe this to be a favour and a good Omen. I hope their Parishes in this Country are not of a large extent, otherwise the Priest has more Work upon his Hands, than he will go through with, unless he keeps a Curate or two to relieve him, when Marriages come in thick. The holder's forth of our Conventicles, affect to be thought great pains-takers, and really deserve the name, for their Bands will testify for them both in the Dog-days, and out of the Dog-days, that they Sweat exceedingly. But, Alas, what is this, if considered in the same Scales with the drudgery, that these Priests undergo in their Ministry. I have often wondered that the Popish Clergy that stand up so stiffly for the divine Right of First-fruits, don't Troop in shoals to this Kingdom, when they Voluntarily pay such an extraordinary Tribute to the Church.  
'Tis observable, that in most Countries of the World this Ceremony is performed by the Priesthood, who, if they equally pretended to the power of Losing, as they do to that of Tying, they would have more Business upon their hands than they could well dispense with. Only in Turkey married People are joined together by the Cadey, or Civil Magistrate, and here in England in Oliver's time by a Justice of Peace; the Reason alleged for it then was, that none was so well qualified to Marry others as he, who, by his Office was Impower'd to lay People by the heels, and put them into the Stocks.  
As I have already taken Notice, Virginity is reckoned so Essential to Marriage in several Countries, that the poor Bride is Inhumanly dismissed, and sent home to her Relations, if she be found defective in that particular; but, in this Author, we shall find, that all the world is not of this humour, in Pegu, of the Marriage Ceremonies, p. 9●. the King, and those of the greatest Quality, lie not the first night with their Wives, but admit others and pay them bountifully, that will give themselves the trouble. With all due respect to our Women be it spoken, I humbly conceive that one half▪ at least, of the married Men in this Kingdom, if they would speak their minds freely, must do their Wives this Justice, as to own that they saved them this Porter's drudgery, as a Monarch (not inferior to Solomon for Wisdom) rightly called it. Our Neighbours of Scotland, before they came to be civilised, used to lie the first night with the Bride, their Vassal, but now they have fling up such a troublesome piece of State, and make their Tenant's drudge for themselves.  
We rail at the Church of Rome, and not without reason, for exacting implicit Obedience from her Sons, but alas, what signifies it to take a few Articles upon the Credit of the Priest; but to take a Wife, as our Author tells us they do in Muscovy, and other places, without seeing her once, or knowing what Defects she may have, is somewhat hard upon the Subject. Heaven be praised, that here in England we are not forced to buy a Pig in a Poke, nay, there are some married Men in the World, that were as intimately acquainted with their Wives before Marriage, as ever they were after. See now what it is to live under a free Government, and to have Magna Charta on one's side.  
To conclude these Reflections, it is my hearty advice, That all unmarried Persons would choose themselves proper Spouses by the first opportunity, in order to recruit those numbers that have been destroyed in the wars, and not suffer their Talents to lie buried in a Napkin, for which they must severely Answer one Day. And as for those that are Married, the best way they can take, as I presume, is to live as easy as they can, and following the good counsel of Hobson the Carrier, so to manage themselves, as not to tyre before their Journeys end.   

LETTER VI Another Letter to Mr. H—  
SIR,  
I Find by your answer, that my advice had not that good effect upon you, which I expected. You still complain of your unhappiness, and disturb yourself and your friends with Chimeras of your own creating. If I thought complaining would make you a farthing the better, I would out-weep a Church-Spout, and out-lament a Widow that has buried three Husbands, and now laments for a fourth: or if I thought you wanted any Spiritual Cordials, I would send you a Cartload of Sermons, to teach you that patience, which the preachers of them could never practise. But you are a Malade imaginaire, and Moliere would sooner bring you to yourself than a Divine. In short, think no more of the Viper that stung you, and you are well.  
You talk much of what people do in Spain upon these occasions. But what have you and I to do with them? Are we to regulate our eating by the sots of Lapland, or to go naked in complaisance to the Savages under the Line? Had you lived in Spain, perhaps I had preached revenge to you, and out of my great concern for your person, advised you to venture the Gallows, because forsooth your Wife with the sweat of her brows had earned damnation. But since you live in a Country, where the people are wiser than to be enslaved by such foolish notions, pray suffer yourself to be governed by the maxims of it. I tell you once more, Cuckoldom is no scandal in our Nation, and if you were the first and ancientest— in England, I could say no more to you. If 'tis the rarity that makes the Monster, you'll never come within the number of them. 'Tis only the married men that are not Cuckolds, that, properly speaking, are the Monsters here, as in Guinea, 'tis not those that have huge Lips and flat Noses, but those that have them otherwise are really the deformed.  
The old Romans, who may be supposed to have had as just sentiments of honour, as the nicest Dons of Castille, were guided by wiser Maxims. In case of Infidelity, the Wife was sent home with infamy to her virtuous relations, but no manner of disgrace reflected upon the Husband. Pompey, the Conqueror of so many Kings; Cicero, the Father of Eloquence; and Caesar, the Master of the Universe, had all of 'em Wives that proved as errand recreants as yours, yet we don't find that they thought themselves a farthing the worse for it, or that they railed at their stars, or flew into such extravagances as you do. Cicero in particular, that has written so many Consolatory Treatises, to relieve a man under all the misfortunes, and accidents of human life, as banishment, poverty, the loss of friends, old age, disgrace, and the like; ye● never thought it worth his while to par● with one single drop of comfort out of his Philosophical Aqua Vitae Bottle, to cure the heart burning of a Cuckold. And, jack, shall it ever be sa●d, to the infamy of old England, that Heathens, uncircumcised Heathens could practise that patience, which you, that, God be thanked, live under a meeker dispensation, cannot reconcile yourself to.  
You'll tell me, perhaps, that the Romans bore this with the greater Resignation, because they could make themselves amends out of the Sex, and marry another Wife as soon as they had dismiss the former. On the other hand, I think 'tis happy for you that you live in a Christian Country, where they won't let you cut your fingers the second time with a Knife, as long as the instrument that wounded you last is in being. There's a Fable in Aesop that fits your case exactly, therefore pray listen to it with due attention and reverence. A Shepherd kept a ●lock of Sheep near the Sea, and observing it to be wonderful calm for a long time, had an itch upon him to turn Merchant Adventurer; that ●s to say in plain English, a Gentleman liking the outside of the fair Sex well enough, picks out one to his purpose, and resolves to marry. So ●e converts his Sheep and other movables into 〈◊〉 Purse of Money, buys a parcel of Dates, and puts to Sea. That is to say, furnishes him a House, provides a fine suit of clothes, goes to Dukes-Place, and marries. A tempest ruffled him cruelly there, (this tempest, jack, by the by the by, is Cuckoldom) that he was forced to ●hrow his Dates overboard to lighten his Ship; ●hat is to say, his Wife was so damned a Thorn ●n his side, that he was forced to drink her to death, to get rid of her. And thus with much ●do escapes to shore, and returns to the old place to follow his old profession, that is, breaks ●p house-keeping, and lives privately as he did before. A few days after, finding old Father Ocean to look merrily about the Gills; that is, ●ome of the Sex smile and simper, as if they had 〈◊〉 design to hook him into Matrimony again; A plague take you, says he, for a dissembler: What, your chaps water for more Dates, I war●ant; but I'll see you hanged before you shall ●ave any. I don't question, jack, but that ●here are twenty and twenty Women in your neighbourhood that long to be fingering your Dates, but if you'll follow the Shepherd's example, they shall all lose their longing.  
Well, we have got over this troublesome point, and now nothing vexes you, but that your Wife should run away with a Soldier, (a confounded Ensign I think you call him) and an ugly fellow too. But this is the most fantastical complain● that ever was heard. It puts me in mind of an Irishman in the Civil Wars, that when he was going to be hanged, set nothing to heart but that he must be trussed up in a Halter, and not in a Withe● If your House was robbed, I suppose it would be all a case to you, whether it was a Beau or ● Chimney-sweeper that did you the honour to rifle you: And in your present misfortune what relief would it be to you that a Blue Garter plante● your Horns, any more than a Blue Apron, the Deuce take me if I can see. But you I find are somewhat of Bessus' humour in the Play, who comforted himself after a good kicking that hi● honour had not suffered, because in the first place 'twas a Lord that kicked him, and secondly 'twas done with a Spanish leather Slipper. In your next Letter I expect to find you lamenting, because the fact was done under a hedge, or upon a ba●e floor, and not with the usual accommodations i● a Bed. Once more, the fellow was ugly: Why s● much the better still, the Cockatrice of your bosom will have the less to say for herself another day, and that ought to be no little comfort, jack, ●o one in your case. Besides, it justifies the old ●aying, that Subjects and Wives, when they re●olt from their lawful Sovereigns, seldom choose ●or a better. As for her pitching upon a Soldier ●o be her gallant, I don't wonder at it. The Gentlemen in red, and their Brethren in black, have ●or several ages been in possession of the Sex, the ●●tter upon the account of their secrecy, which may be the reason perhaps, why they wear the Rose, the badge of silence in their Hats; and the other, upon the score of the mighty performances which the Women expect from them. The Ladies imagine them all to be Heroes, and as the La●y formerly believed that Black conferred Grace and Greek, so they vainly think that Red gives the wearers of it courage and vigour above their neighbours. If we may believe Antiquity, Vul●an had a broader back than Mars, and was the stronger made of the two, yet the latter with the powerful charms of his embroidered Coat, and steenkirk Cravat, so won the Goddess' heart▪ that ●he was easily tempted to cuckold the poor Blacksmith. In short, women are like Mackarel, bait ●ut a hook with a piece of red Cloth, and you infallibly take them.  
But to return to the Chapter of ugliness, from which we have digressed, I told you before ●wou'd make it the worse for your Wife at the ●e— on, but upon second thoughts, I don't know but she may have a great deal to say for herself▪ You are a handsome fellow, jack, I own it, but perhaps have convinced her by sorrowful experience▪ that as the proverb has it, all is not gold that glisters▪ Who can tell but your Wife has read natural Philosophy enough to know, that where the ground ha● the roughest, the most unpromising surface, ther● the richest Mines lie below.  
After all, whether it is so or not, variety is ● mighty matter, and much may be said on so fertile a head. People love to alter their hands, th● it is not always for the better, a clear instance o● this we find in Plautus Amphitryo. jupiter wh● by the high post he stood possessed of, one wou'● think should have no gross palate, lies with Al●mena the very night before she was delivered o● two chopping Infants. The Lady for her par● was complaisant, that's certain; but Women, ge●nerally speaking, are not so refractory as Came●● are, that when they have got their burden, ris● up, and will carry no more: So this is no grea● wonder. But what the Du●e should bewitch 〈◊〉 Lover, that had the whole Universe before him to make his Son Mercury pimp for him for th● space of twenty four hours by the clock, to pu● himself to the expense of a Miracle, to make th● Moon and the rest of the Stars do double duty to keep back the Sun, and make an universal discorder in nature, and all to carry on a foolish in●trigue with a big-bellyed woman? 'Tis agreed b● ●ll the Dutch Commentators, that he would never have done so much for juno, his lawful Spouse; ●n one of her most engaging moments, with all ●he advantages of dress and art to recommend her; much less under such embarrassing circumstances. What then may we imagine to be the ●eason of it? Why, that partly variety, and part●y the itch of making a Cuckold, engaged him in ●his expedition. But all this while I forget that I am ●leading for your Wife, like the Bishop that was employed to write against Luther, and turned one of ●is party.  
Thus I have briefly run over all your scruples, ●nd endeavoured to make you rectus in curia; but ●efore I conclude, give me leave to tell you a short story. A Gentleman of my acquaintance had a ●enant that rent about some forty Shillings a ●ear of him. The Hutt he lived in was a sad wretched hole, made up of a few feeble poles, ●over'd with mud, dung, and straw: 'Twas not ●o be mentioned on the same year with a Crows●est, either for the materials, the convenience, or architecture of it. The least puff of wind ruffled 〈◊〉 more severely than a Hurricane does a Ship in ●he Indies. The discharge of a Gun at a quarter 〈◊〉 a miles distance would give it a Tertian Ague ●or a fortnight. Then as for the furniture, it was 〈◊〉 of a piece with the building, half a score wood●●n Spoons, with a Platter of the same metal, a ●roken backed Chair, and what they called a Bed, ●y a bolder Catachresis than is to be found in all Mr Cleveland. It was not so much as furnished with a Suit of Grubstreet Tapestry; I mean, a 〈◊〉 of Protestant Ballads, or the Devil tempting 〈◊〉 London Apprentice, or the Tanner's advice to hi● Children, or the Royal Family on Horseback, t● keep the poor Walls in countenance. The fel●low's whole substance was a Beehive, half a sco●● Cabbages, and an Appletree in the yard, on th● success of which he depended more than the Con●— taes on that of a Campaign in Flanders: ● 'tis that sharped for his livelihood on the Com●mon, but as lean as a Projector's Footman; ● Cow, whose Milk was meat and drink, and he● tail an Almanac to the family; with a Coc● strutting at the head of a progeny; and a bra●● of Pigs educated within doors, and served with a● much care as the Heir apparent to the Cottage His Music when he came home was to hear a litster of young dirty Children squawling on on● side of him, and the abovementioned Messieurs 〈◊〉 Porceaugnac grunting on the other, and his ran● two-handed Spouse, that never had a drop of wa●ter touch her face, since the Parson sprinkled he● at the Font, by the same token even than it mad● her cry out, endeavouring to keep the King's Ma●jestys peace between them. Yet amidst all th● poverty and filthiness the fellow looked merry, an● in good humour, snored as contentedly at Church as the best of his neighbours, in an old Sund●● Coat that had outlived six Generations, 〈◊〉 whistled at his work, and what is more, without ●ny of the Parish to assist him, once a year got his Wife with Child, as if he breakfasted every morn●ng on the Duke of Buckingham's famous Broth. So his Landlord asked him what shift he made to ●eep himself so cheerful and merry? Why Master, ●ays he, when I think of such ●ine folks as your Worship, that ride in your Coaches, and eat and drink of the best, without doing any thing for it, why then, an't please you, I can't forbear cursing my old Father for begetting me under such a starving Planet: But when I consider how few are in your case, and how many millions in the ●ame condition with myself, if not in a worse, why then I set my hand to my Plough, and jog on as merrily as I can. jack, this story needs no application; do but think of the millions you have on your side, enough to confound the Turk ●nd Pope, nay, to carry the whole world before ●ou, if you knew your own strength; do but ●hink how many Noblemen and Courtiers you have to lead the Van, how many Cits to bring up ●he main Body, how many Soldiers to fight, ●awyers to plead, Physicians to prescribe, and Divines to pray for you, and I dare engage you'll sleep hearty upon't, and persecute me with no more of your whining Letters: who am  
Your Humble Servant.  
P. S.  
A Physician of my acquaintance, that ha● heard of your misfortune, called upon me thi● morning just as I had ended my Letter, and les● my advice should fail of making a good impression upon you, was so kind to send you the following prescription. If these precepts won't cure you, we must proceed to Topics, and one of th● best remedies I know is what follows. When you● discontented soul labours with a little Brow-anguish, take a Child's Coral, with Whistle and Bell● to it, moisten it with fasting Spittle, and rub you● forehead with it ter in die horis medicis. It wil● make your Brow-antlers cut easy, for some Cuckolds are as froward under the breeding of Horn● as some Children are under the breeding of Tee●● Once more Adieu.   

LETTER VII. To the Reverend Mr.— in Sussex.  
I Have had a mind to write to thee this long while, but the misfortune on't is, that a man ●oes not know how to accost thee, without being ●t the pains to consult the Herald's Office. Ge●●on, of tripple-headed memory gave his Subjects suppose the same trouble, who when they came ●o deliver a Petition to him, found themselves 〈◊〉 much embarassed, which of his heads to address ●o, as I find myself at present, under which of ●our three capacities I am first to consider you. 〈◊〉 short, I am told you have got three strings to ●our bow, that you are a Parson, a Grazier, and ● Physician. Now which of these is your Top-●rofession, I mean that which brings you in most ●oney, the Lord knows: however hoping the ●est still of the Church, this comes to tell you Reverend Sir, that I am glad at your good fortune, ●nd wish you all the prosperity you can desire.  
All your Friends here in Town are extremely pleased at your grafting the Grazier upon the Clergyman. You have reduced things, they say to their primitive condition, and joined two trades, as the world makes them now, that lived peaceably together long before the Flood. The old Patriarches, you know, were both Priests and Graziers, and had an equal jurisdiction over their two legged and four legged Congregations. When Paganism got footing in the World, the case was somewhat altered; Then Sacrifices came in play▪ and the Priests and Graziers turned Butchers; which noble employment some malicious people will tell you, their Successors have kept up under another dispensation.  
But as for your joining the Physician to the Divine, they are not so well satisfied. Some wondered why you would take up a profession that lie● under the imputation of being in the hands o● Atheists: but Gentlemen, said I, don't troubl● yourselves for that matter; for let a Parson tack ● hundred other professions to his own, yet I'll engage that like Oil among other Liquors, the Clergyman will still float uppermost. Besides, who knows but it was your ill fortune to live amongst such a refractory perverse people, as Don Diego's were, that would not knock off in any reasona●ble time, but lived long, on purpose to spi●● their Relations, and defraud the Church of 〈◊〉 perquisites. The Ropes grew mouldy, and 〈◊〉 Bells were in danger of forgetting their notes so want of exercise, and the grass in your Church yard for want of being corrected by the Spad● grew so scandalously and enormously high, that ●he Archdeacon complained of it at the Visitation. Then the poor Sexton, God help him, finding ●o employment from the Dead, was in a fair way ●o be starved among the Living, and had as little ●o do as a Pimp at Newmarket, when the C—t is not there: Then he and you, oh I beg your ●ardon Doctor, than you and he, under the melancholy Yew-tree that faces the Church Porch, ●ll alone like Mr. Drydens' two Turtles in the Siege of Granada, could and murmured to each others moan, and made as mournful a Consort between ●ou, as two Seamens Widows in a Brandy shop near ●he Navy Office. Husbands complained of their Wives, and Wives of their Husbands, for sticking 〈◊〉 unmercifully long to one another, and what is a dreadful thing to consider, there had like to have been a general insurrection of all the young fellows ●gainst their most unnatural Fathers for the same accounted. To prevent these, and a thousand other inconveniences, I think it was very discreetly ●one of you, to set up for a Physician, and now I ●on't question but the Bells troll merrily, the Rope's ●re made tractable with using, the Churchyard ●ooks like a place of Business, and your Sexton can ●fford to treat himself with a Capon at Supper.  
As I was reading Caligula's life t'other morning, ●ou came into my head I protest, and I could not forbear to wish, that it had been your good luck ●o l●ve under his auspicious reign. That Emperor, who was not partial to his own species, but hea●●tily encouraged Merit wherever he found 〈◊〉 whether in man or Beast 'twas the same thing 〈◊〉 him; generously bestowed a fat Parsonage upo● his Horse Incitatus, whom by the by he designed 〈◊〉 make Lord Mayor o● Rome the next year, but granshed him I suppose a dispensation to officiate by Curate, because the poor Brute, had a nature impediment in his Speech. So I was thinking with myself, if this noble-spirited Prince cou●● present his Horse to a rich Living, what presentiment would he have refused to a Gentleman 〈◊〉 your Ability, had you lived in Rome at that tim●▪ But you have prevented all these wishes in you● friends, by the wise course you have taken to ge● money, for the Devil's in't if three gainful trad● in Confederacy cannot make a shift to keep t●● French Wolf of Poverty from the door. Som● people indeed think you come within the Cano● about Pluralities, but that is a jest. They 〈◊〉 as well call a double chin a plurality, and the● the Lord have mercy on the Wicked, and give● Bear and Fiddle that scandalous name, which wou●● touch the Copyhold of half the Curates in Wale● I would fain know why the incumbent, where 〈◊〉 Benefice won't keep Body and Soul together should not be suffered to make himself amends i● some other employment, as well as your Merce● in a Country Village, to sell every thing fro● Broad Cloth and Satin, down to Tape an● ●ick-thread. Besides all the world knows that ●he Reformation stripped the Church of Confession ●nd several other advantageous points, which ●ept the Laity in good order; now what could ●etter supply the absence of these things than ●he profession you have taken up, since we find ●he world is so wickedly given, that they have greater regard for their transitory Bodies than ●●eir Souls; so now if any of your Parishioners are ●●stinate, don't threaten 'em with the Ecclesiastical Court, but ply them with Pills, don't excommunicate them, but give them Physic, for ●●at will sooner send them to the Devil than the ●nsure of the C—h.  
I that am at so great a distance from you, please ●y self now and then with the thoughts that I be●old you in your own Dominions, with as busy a 〈◊〉, as a Country Attorney standing at his door, ●ith a brace of Pens in his Hair; sometimes I see ●ou in the Pulpit knocking down sin like an Ox, sometimes handling of Bullocks in the Market, 〈◊〉 from thence sent for to feel the pulse of a Farmers' plump Daughter in ordine ad Spiritualia. ●hen out comes the Clyster-pipe, and when that administered, the Prayer-Book is lugged piping 〈◊〉 out of the same pocket, to beg a blessing upon't. ●he harmony of Authors too in your Library ●●st needs be admirable, Culpepper's Midwife, and 〈◊〉 Sherlock upon Death, Harvey de lieu Ven●rea, 〈◊〉 Burgess of original Sin, Colebatch of Acids, and Twisse of the Gospel-sweets, the dispensatory and the Concordance, a Father and an Urinal-monger. But what pleases me most is to hear, that you are grown the gravest person in all the Country. Whatever you do, keep to your gravity, and that will keep you. Some people I know will call it dulness, and to say truth, dulness and gravity like the two Sosia's in the Play, resemble one another so much, that 'tis almost impossible to distinguish them, but no matter for that; still hold to the Text of Gravity, for the topping men in all professions are protected by their gravity, as the Towns in Holland are by the mud and dirt about them.  
Having been told of several of your cures, I wish we had you here in Town, to show a piece of your skill upon an old acquaintance of yours, who is troubled with a dead Palsy on one side, which I am afraid he will never recover of till death, or you come to his relief. I mean poor Harry S— who has lately married the Widow D—For my part I can never see him, but I think of the Embalmer in Herodotus, that committed fornication with a dead Body. St. Franci● that was forced to run into a heap of Snow, to correct the insolences of nature, would hav● turned as cold and motionless, as Lot's wife at th● very sight of her. A generous well-bodied Calenture, such as they have under the line, ma● perhaps put her Blood into some motion, but ● common ordinary Fever can no more warm her, than you can roast a Surloin of Beef by a farthing Candle. By this you may guests what a wretched condition your Friend is in. If there is any thing in your art, that can give this Gentlewoman a civil lift into the other World (for really she is too good for this) you are desired to communicate it, and besides a good round gratuity, Harry promises you shall preach her funeral Sermon, so that after you have destroyed her with your Pills, you may likewise murder her with your Oratory. I am   

LETTER VIII. By one of the Commons.  
Dear jack!  
O mihi post nullos.  
Tho' at this present juncture, superos, & conscia sidera testor, I am in no very good condition to write Letters, secessum scribentis & otia quaerunt, because my headakes, accessit fervor capiti, and with last nights drinking my hand trembles quid non ebrietas designat, yet I cannot forbear, tenet insanabile multos, to send you an account of our meeting at the Sun, forsan & haec olim meminisse juvabit, and what happened upon it, Exitus acta probat, but Ill endeavour to be as brief as I can, summa sequar festigia rerum, for I hate prolixity and all its works.  
You must know then that a parcel of young fellows of us, in cure curanda plus aequo, jolly toping Companions, sponsi Penelope's, nebulones, who when are we are at a Tavern never cry to go home, fruges consumere nati, met at the Sun to drink some tokens sent out of the Country, O rus quando ego te aspiciam. At first we were exceeding cheerful and merry, nunc te Bacche canam, the Glasses trolled about like lightning, nec mora nec requies, we drank prosperity to old England, dulce & decorum est pro patria, nor was the best in Christendom forgot, spelunca alta fuit, vastoque immanis hiatu. So far then every thing went well, hac Arethusa tenus, the Candles burn clear and bright, noctem Flammis funalia vincunt, the Tobacco smoked agreeably, Volvitur after odor tectis, but you know the old saying, pleasure has a sting in its tail, nocet empla dolore voluptas, people seldom know when to give off, O quantum in rebus inane, for mark what followed, felix quem faciunt, we had the Devil and all to do before we parted, Allecto stygiis caput extulit ●ris, nothing but bloodshed and desolation, ●ella horrida bella, and a Woman occasioned it ●ll, dux femina facti. One in the Company it ●eems was deeply in Love, omnia vincit amor, so ●e began his Mistress' health in a bumper, Naevia ●ex Cyathis, swearing she was an Angel, a Goddess, and I know not what, trahit sua quemque●oluptas, but his next neighbour like a fool refused to pledge him, quis nisi mentis inops oblatum respuit. Upon which Rogue and Rascal straight ensued, nulli tacuisse nocet, one ill word begot another, verba accusandi genitivum regunt, after which Bottles and Candlesticks flew like hail, j●mque faces & saxa volant, and some undermining moles in the company, that no body could tell what to make of, incerti generis sunt talpa, blew up the coals to make more mischief, spargere voces in vulgum ambiguas, till at last all of us were hooked into the quarrel, O miseri, quae tanta insania, cives! 'Twas to no purpose to preach up peace and moderation, in campo siquis asellum, for the Wine was in and the Wit was out, foecundi calices quem non fecere? One with his Mazzard demolished, quantum mutatus ab illo Hectore, fell down on the floor, that gemitum tellus, and lay as flat as a Flounder, procumbit humi bos; t'other with his Nose dismounted, quis cladem illius noctis, fell a swearing like a Dragon, tercentem tonat ore deos, and fling the Monteith at his opposite, furor arma ministrat. A third had his Eyes closed up, monstrum horrendum, inform, ingens. A fourth his Laced Cravat and Periwig torn to pieces, quis funera fando explicet. In short, the distraction was universal, post vacat pars nulla, it reigned from Dan to Bersheba, ab o●● usque ad mala, for by this time all of us were at pell mell, legitque virum vir, but such a noise and such a confusion, good Lord! ferit aurea sidera clamour. I warrant you there was work enough for the Surgeons, multa vi vulnera miscent, but it's an ill wind, you'll say, that blows no body good, aliquisque malo fuit usus in illo. At last the man of the house appeared, vir gregis ipse caper, with a Constable and a mob of Watchmen at his heels, una eurusque notusque ruunt, commanding us in the King's name to keep the peace, tollite barbarum clamorem, and not to fight like Beasts or Dutchmen over our Drink, pugnare Thracum est: what, says he, do ye think there are no Magistrates in the Neighbourhood, Creditis avectos Danaos, or do ye know my Lord Mayor and the City no better, sic notus Ulysses? Come pack up your Awls, and be gone, ille regit dictis animos, or I shall send you all to the Counter, horrisono stridentes cardine portae. Upon this the mutiny was soon quashed, omnis pelagi cecidit fragor, we had no mind to be longer at Loggerheads, non ea vis animo, a Prison was no such desirable place, Centauri in foribus stabulant, so the reckoning was called for and paid, de moribus ultima fiet quaestio, every one went towards his respective home; sedes quisque suaes, some in Coaches, and some on Foot, scinditur incertum studia in contraria vulgus. But see the uncertainty of humane affairs, omnia sunt hominum, we were stopped by the Monarch of the night at Ludgate, apparent nova Monstra. Cries he, whence come ye; said vos qui tandem, or whether are you going? Quove tenetis iter. Shall I send one of my Myrmidons to see you home? auxilio tutos dimittam, or will you reign with me in this Elbow-Chair of State, vultis & his mecum pariter considere regnis. By my Faith my Throne and all is at your service, Vrbem quam statuo vestra est. No, said Ned Townly, I beg your excuse, haud equidam tali me dignor honore, I love you, gentlemans Constables, with all my heart, Od● profanum vulgus & arceo, but I have a morose thing called a Father at home, est mihi namque domi pater, besides a Mother-in law as mischievous as a fury, Hircanaeque admorunt ubera tigers. So if you please we'll even take our leaves of one another, worthy Sir, satis est quod sufficit, and thus through so many nocturnal principalities and powers, per tot discrimina rerum, we at last got safe to the Commons, tendimus in Latium.  
Had I the Lungs of a hundred Lawyers, non mihi si centum linguae sint, yet were I not able to tell you all my adventures, omnes scelerum compendere forms. But to conclude, this was the issue of this tragical night, haec finis Priami fatorum; but who the plague could have foreseen it, quid sit futurum ●ras fuge quaerere. However, I shall have more wit for the future, piscator sapit ictus, so begging your pardon for this tedious Letter, veniam petimus dabimusque vicissim, I promise you Ne quid nimis shall hereafter be the word, with  
Your most humble L. I.   

LETTER IX. To Madam— kept by a Jew in Covent-Garden  By Capt. Gr— 
AT my coming to Town, I was suprized to hear two things, That the Duke of Savoy had quitted the Confederates and gone over to the French, and (what startled me more) that Mrs Lucy— had thrown off her old Christian acquaintance, and revolted to the Jews▪ Faith, Child, I could never have imagined, that you of all the women in the world would ever have chosen a Gallant out of that Religion, which eclipse and diminishes the current Coin of Love, or could ever be brought to like those people that lived two thousand years on Types and figure's. But perhaps you fancied the Nation for Sampson's sake, of brawny memory. If you did, you are like to lose your longing; for you may as well look for some of the race of the two Giants at Guild●hall in Cheapside, as for any of Sampson's progeny in Duke●s-place. Some of your Friends allege in your justification, that you were wholly directed by your interest in this choice, and troth I can't blame you. Our Statesmen and Senators, our Divines, Merchants, and Lawyers, act all upon that principle, and why a poor frail woman should not be allowed the same privilege, I cannot see. So then, I find 'tis neither circumcision nor uncircumcision that avails any thing with you; but money, which is in reality of all Religions, and you only put in practice what your kind Keeper's Ancestors did formerly in the Wilderness, that is, you fall down before the Golden Calf, which the Rabbis say was some excuse for their Idolatry. Upon this foot I'll allow you to grant some favours to your old Testament Spark, so long as his pot of Manna continues full, and you find him like the Land of Canaan flowing with Milk and Honey. However, in the mean time consider how his Predecessors served the Egyptians, and let it not disturb your pious Conscience to use him in the same manner. For your comfort, all our C●suists agree, that it is no more sin to cheat a Jew, than to overreach a Scot, or to put false Dice upon a Stock-jobber. And now, old friend of mine, to tell thee the truth, I have a great inclination upon me to be wonderfully loving to thee, and I'll tell thee the reason: if thou hadst kept still within the pale of the Church, I believe you and I knew one another so intimately well before, that I should have lain under no great temptation to trespass with thee. But since thou hast admitted an Interloper into thy Bosom, I have a wonderful longing to beat up his quarters, and am resolved to cuckold this Eleazar, this Aben-Ezra, this Son of Circumcision, only to show my zeal to Christianity. Therefore meet me, dear Lucy, this very evening in the Pit, for I long to know first, how thou mad'st a shift to pass the Levitical muster with him: and secondly and lastly, to be informed whether Aaron's Bells make better Music than ours.  
Adieu.   

LETTER X. From a Gentleman in Holland, to his Friend in England. By the same hand.  
YOu may imagine I lead none of the most comfortable lives here, when I tell you that I am quartered in a little pimping village on the Frontier of Flanders, where I have no men to converse, and no women to intrigue with. To begin with the former, I am a perfect Barbarian to them, and so I believe I should be, if I lived among them till Doomsday. For all I know, they may wish me at the Devil and curse me, when I fancy they are at their compliments. However, this is no more temptation to me to learn their croaking language, than I should have, if I were married, to imitate the jealous Italian in Poggius, who gelded himself on purpose, to know whether his Wife was true to his bed. Then their liquor is so abominable, ●hat there's no enduring it: rather than do penance in such vile stuff, two of my Soldiers 〈◊〉 forced to fill their guts with water every day, and then stand upon their heads a quarter of an hour together, to make themselves giddy, which gives them some feeble representation of drunkenness. In short, I am grown rusty for want of exercise, and pass away my time as uneasily, as a poor Carp that has been used to range in a River, does in a little Cistern of Water at a Fishmonger's by Temple Barnes▪ However, I could make a shift to bear the brutality of the men, if the other Sex made me amends, but i'faith they are cold to such a degree, that neither Love nor Wine can unthaw them. I must needs own, I have the same quarrel to the generality of your Women in London, as the Clergy have to the Laity, that is to say, they know too much; but a plague on't, the Females here have the contrary fault, and are such flegmatic, stupid Creatures, that a man must live the Age of a Patriarch among them▪ to teach them to fetch and carry. In short, you may sooner teach a L●plander Algebra. Tho the Virtuosos may be mistaken in their universal Character, yet 〈◊〉 thought Love had an universal language, which was understood from Pole to Pole, and that h● kept an Exchange in all corners of the Earth where the two Sexes might barter their Commodities; but here it seems this Traffic is no● practised, though they trade in every thing else▪ By signs and other motions I can make a shi●● to tell them what I would eat and drink, but ● cannot, with all that my eyes can speak, with ●ll that my fingers can express, make the wo●en understand my meaning, so as to relieve ●y more pressing necessities. Looking once ●ith a languishing ridiculous air, as people in ●ove use to do, my Landlord's Daughter thought 〈◊〉 was ill, and a Physician was presently sent ●or, (so I guest him to be, by the Clyster-pipe ●anging by his side,) but I had the grace to re●●se the civilities he designed me. To try her ●et farther, I put a pledge into her hands, ●hich the Women in all other parts of the Globe 〈◊〉 willing enough to exchange, and know the ●alue of, but she looked upon as it unconcerned as 〈◊〉 Cheapside-Cit does at a Cuckold, and returned 〈◊〉 me back, and yet the Wench was plump and handsome, was past twenty, and seemed to be ●ade of the same good natured materials, with ●he Women in England. 'Tis a common saying, ●ut untrue, that no Nation is so barbarous, but ●ove and Religion have got footing in it. If ●e may believe our modern Travellers, the ●otantots have no Religion, and I have found ●y sorrowful experience, that the Dutch Wo●en have no taste of Love; whether this proceeds ●●om their natural coldness, which produces ●he same effects here, that Grace does in other ●●aces, or whether their business, to which they ●re no less bred, than the men, proves too prevalent for all amorous impressions, I can't tell; but this is certain, that as a modern Author expresses himself, we find among these Pagan people un certain usage de pruderie quasi generalement ètabliet je ne scaj quelle vielle tradition de continence▪ qui pass de mere en fille comme une espece de Religion. In short, if Love be a Deity, there are no such damned Atheists in the World, as in this strange Climate. 'Tis true, in other places those of the fair Sex, may be too profuse in their offerings, but as the Divines rightly observe, Superstition is better than Profaneness. Those few here that pretend to own his power, pay their oblations to him with as ill a will, as a breaking Tradesman pays his Taxes to the Government. It does not come from any generous principle within, the heart has no share in the sacrifice, and the Soul which in other Countries, loves to assist and go along with the body upon these occasions, is as unconcerned here, 〈◊〉 a Tradesman's rake-helly Apprentice at a Quake● meeting. Not but that there are whores and married Women too in this Country (which may seem to destroy what I have said before) but th● latter know no more what Gallantry mean● than they understand Arabic; and the former ar● such rampant mercenary Devils, that they wou'● lick old Lucifer's cloven foot, for a single Gil●der. In short, there's not one honest Rahab 〈◊〉 be found among them, to justify the profession and Love has ne'er a Court in all the seven Provinces, where a man can be heard in forma ●auperis: which is a sad thing for us poor Soldiers, that are not over-stock'd with the Ready. And then, as I have already told you, those that pass for Maids are such insensible things, that one may succeed much sooner in his pretensions elsewhere, than he can here make himself understood; or, to express myself in the language of Westminster hall, one may get his Cause tried, enter upon the Premises, and levy a Fine elsewhere, before he ●an put in his Plea here, let him use all the art ●e can. The young fellows are made of the same unthinking Clay, they sometimes talk of the flames of Love, but 'tis so as we at this distance of time talk of the fire of Troy, which nothing concerns us. 'Tis next to an Article of Faith with them, that no evacuation is so refreshing as a Belch, that nothing warms but Brandy, and that nothing is worth a man's courting but Money.  
Guess then what a dismal penance I have undergone in this wicked place; but now, Heaven be praised, my persecution is like to ●e at an end, for next week we are ordered ●o join the Army at Nivelle, where I hope to meet good store of Champaign, and to make myself amends out of the female recruits that ●re arrived from England. Come Battel and Murder, Bloodshed and Desolation, Fire and Faggot; in fine, any thing but Dutch Women, and the curse of Sobriety. Thus prays  
Your most obliged Servant.   

LETTER XI. To a young Lawyer that dabbled in Poetry.  
SIR,  
YOur friends in the Country, understanding to their grief, that you are infected with Verse-making, by the same token that the spots of Parnassus have broke out upon you in several Love-Sonnets, and a Pindaric Ode upon the Peace, they have desired me, whom they knew to labour under the same distemper formerly, to attempt your Cure, with th● same prospect, I suppose, as the people of Spai● and Italy employ the Priests to exorcise the Devil, because they are best acquainted with him Take it therefore for an undoubted truth, tha● Law and Poetry are as incompatible as War and Plenty, and that the Lawyer and Poet ●an no more inhabit in the same person, than a Beau and a Chimney-sweeper. The Law proposeth interest for its end, and that consideration makes its Thistles palatable; but you'll find yourself damnably mistaken, if you think to advance yourself by the Muses. After you have spent your whole age in their service, you must not expect to have your Arrears paid so much as in Malt-Tickets, or Exchequer-Notes. They●ll put you off to one Mrs Tattle alias Fame, the veriest Coquette that ever was, and that prating Gossip will shame you with an Immorta●ity-Ticket forsooth, which is not to become due to you, till you are laid asleep in a Churchyard; and neither you, nor your Heirs will be a farthing the better for it. What is worse, the nine Sister's abovementioned, will not only disappoint your expectations ●s to a reward, but will engross all your favours, and suffer no Rivals to interfere with them. Like the East India Women, they'll expect you should prove constant, and bestow no marks of benevolence elsewhere, otherwise conclude to be poisoned by them, and made uncapable of any thing else; and nothing you know is so furious as the revenge of a discarded Mistress. If you design to touch at the most advantageous Port in the land of Poetry, called the Theatre, consider how visible the dangers, and how unsuitable the returns are. To please the Ladies, you must take care to lard the Dialogue with store of luscious stuff, which the Righteous call Bawdy: To please our new Reformers you must have none, otherwise gruff jeremy will be upon your bones. In short, a Poet has as hard a task on'● to manage, as a Passive Obedience Divine that preaches before the Commons on the 30th of january. Then to sit with an aching heart for three long hours behind the Scenes, within an inch of damnation all the while, though you should come off never so victorious, can you imagine the succeeding pleasure can make you amends for so much pain and anguish. But you fancy the Indies are lodged in Drury-lane; and that the Spanish Plate-Fleet is not to be compared to a good third day. To undeceive you then, the Theatre is not so overstockt with ungodly Mammon, as you may believe. Rabelais somewhere saith, that the very shadow of an Abbey Steeple is enough to get a woman with Child; and I can tell you for your comfort, that the shadow of the Theatre is starving; and the air of it as naturally produces poverty, as that of the hundreds in Essex begets Agues. There was a Woollen-draper in the Strand, that unhappily dreamt but of a Candle-snuffer of the House, who is at least four removes from a Poet, and the poor fellow broke within a week after.  
So then, if you have the fear of Interest before your eyes, stick close to the Law, and let Poetry go the Devil. Ovid will be an everlasting testimony of this truth to all ages of the world. His Father, like a wise old Gentleman, designed him for the Bar, but the giddy Fop fling up that profession, and set up for a Wit; but observe, I beseech you, what he got by the exchange. By some of his foolish Verses he drew the Emperor's displeasure upon himself, who sent him a grazing to teach him more manners, and so he lived a miserable fugitive, in partibus infidelium, where he had leisure enough to curse the versifying Planet which betrayed him to these extremities. One or two perhaps in the compass of six thousand years have made their fortunes by it, but is this any encouragement for you to betake yourself to Apollo's high road? What man of ordinary sense would hazard his All in a Lottery, in hopes of meeting a Benefited Ticket, where he has forty thousand to one odds against him. Besides, Business and Poetry agree as ill together as Faith and Reason, which two latter, as has been judiciously observed by the famed Tub-drubber of Covent-garden, can never be brought to set their Horses together. Those poor Rogues, that do Apollo's drudgery, like the Servants that belong to Dr Ch— n Land Office, must e'en take their labour for their pains, for Apollo and the Dr pay no wages; and they agree in this too, that Paper passes with both for Ready Money.  
On the other hand, the Law has all the baits you can think of to take you. Crowds of Clients to dance attendance at your Chamber every morning. Wealth perpetually flowing in upon you, and all this attained with a few qualificatitions; nothing but a strong pair of Bellows, called Lungs, and a Forehead of the Corinthian Order, are required. So that if you abandon so rich a soil, to starve upon a barren Common, the very Stones in Westminster-hall, like the blood of the Recorders Horses, will rise up in judgement against you. After all, if you are not master of Philosophy enough to set yourself at liberty, and cannot entirely shake off the Rhyming disease, let me advise you as a friend, to trespass that way in private; let not your Mistress, nor so much as your Bottle-companion know any thing of the matter, but when the Writing fit is upon you, do it with as much prudent circumspection, as discreet Thiefs when they are going to commit Burglary. Otherwise you must lie under the scandal of being thought a disaffected man to Cook and Littleton, and if that should arrive to my Lord Chief Justice's ears, good night to your practice. This is all that I have at present to say upon this head, who am  
Your most humble, etc.   

LETTER XII. From a Vintner in the City, to a young Vintner in Covent-Garden▪  By Mr. M— 
Cousin John,  
YOu have done two very adventurous things of late. You have taken a new House, and a new Wife, and all in the compass of a week: not having the fear of some late Acts of Parliament before your eyes, which have made House-keeping so very chargeable. After this convincing proof of your boldness, should you take a Lion by the Whiskers, it would not surprise me. For, Cousin, to deal plainly with you, you have set up in a very perilous time, when 'tis fall of the Leaf with poor Tradesmen all the year round. The Taxes run high, but never was there such an ebb of Money since the Creation. Drunkenness, the Lord be praised, notwithstanding all that the new Reformers have done to it, still makes a shift to maintain its ground: If it leaves one liquor, it takes up with another, like the Sea, which, what it loses in one place, gains somewhere else. All the Nation, to give them their due, would be drunk if they could, to forget their sorrows; but alas, not one quarter of the Nation can afford to be at the expense of it. The situation of things being thus at this present writing, you ought to manage yourself with more than ordinary discretion, if you intent to make a figure in this transitory world.  
In the first place, lay it down for a fundamental rule, never to trust, or at least as seldom as you can. But when you commit that folly, let it not be with men, who are protected by their dignity or character, or (what will not be unseasonable advice▪ to one that lives in Covent garden) with the Wits, who are protected from paying by their poverty. The less Faith you have for other people, the more Charity you show for yourself; for let the P— son's say what they I will, never knew man of any profession justified by Faith. Rather than venture that, cheat as much as you can, I mean in a lawful way, and when you have got an Estate then 'tis time enough to think of compounding your sins with Heaven by building of an Hospital, according to the laudable and ancient practice of the City. If you have a mind to be saved by your Faith take my advice, do it by wholesale, but never by small parcels. In the mean time get Money and promote Trade, for that (as a wise Alderman long ago observed) is the Law and the Prophets.  
Secondly, consider, that the Trade of a Vintner is a perfect mystery, (for that is the term the Law bestows upon it,) now as all mysteries in the world are wholly supported by hard and unintelligible terms, so you must take care to christian your Wines by some hard Names, the farther fetched so much the better, and this policy will serve to recommend the most execrable Stumm in all your Cellar. A plausible name to an indifferent Wine, is what a gaudy title is to a Fop, or fine clothes to a Woman, it helps to conceal the defects it has, and bespeaks the world in its favour. Men naturally love to be cheated, particularly those of our own Nation, for the honour of old England be it spoken, and provided the imposition is not too barefaced, will meet you half way with all their hearts. I could name several of our brethren to you, who now stand fair to sit in the Chair of Justice, and sleep in their Golden Chains at Church, that had been forced to knock off long ago, if it had not been for this artifice. It has saved the Sun from being eclipsed, the Crown from being abdicated, the Rose from Decaying, the Fountain from being drawn dry, and both the Devils from being confined to utter darkness. If your own invention is so barren, that it wants to be assisted, or you have not Geography enough to christian your Wines yourself, I advise you to buy a Map of Spain, Portugal, France, and Italy, and there you will find names of places, fit for your purpose, and the more uncommon they are, they'll be the more taking. Neither is this piece of policy only practised in our, but in most other Trades. A Bookseller to help the sale of a dull Pamphlet, will spruce it up with a most glorious Title, and tell you the Edition is almost sold off, when he has five hundred lying dead upon his Hands. A Perfumer will pretend that his Essences came from Montpellier, or Florence, though he made them at home. The Glover talks of Cordova, and the Mercer of Naples, till their Lungs are foundered, when both their Commodities were of London extraction. And what harm is there in all this? If the people cannot be pleased otherwise, we must in our own defence act as the Nonconformist Divines do, and humour them in their folly. Si populus vult decipi, decipiatur, was the saying of a Churchman, who understood the World so well, that he would have made an admirable Vintner, had he thought it worth his while.  
Thirdly, don't forget to commend your Wine, for those very qualities, that your customers find ●ault with it, like the Poets of the Town, who always justify those passages in their Plays, for which the Critics condemn them. For example; if they say 'tis sour or harsh; why, Gentlemen 'tis the nature of true French Wine to ●e so; if they tell you 'tis small, you must reply ●hat it has a concealed body; and if they quarrel with it for being heavy and strong, you may stop ●heir mouths, by saying 'tis so much the fit ●or our Climate, and that a Frieze Coat is not false ●atin in England, whatever it may be in a warmer Country. At other times it will not be amiss ●o shift your Sails, and use another Conduct. As for instance, A company of well-dressed Gentlemen come to your House, and in respect to ●heir quality and gaudy outsides, you draw 'em ●he best Wine in your Vaults. Pshaw, says one, what the Devil have you brought us here? damn it, cries another, this stuff is not fit to be served at a Porter's Burial. Then you may harangue them to the following Tune. Why Gentlemen, this Wine, an't please you, though it displeases you so much, has the good fortune to be liked by other Palates. There's Sir john Squander, and my Lord Topewell, and twenty more I could mention, Senators▪ and men of understanding, that drink their Gallons of it every night: But to say the truth, 'tis not, between friends, true Orthodox. I find your Palates are extraordinary, so I will go down myself, and bring you the Flower of Europe, though I say it. A small parcel of it came over t'other day: it only grows in one Vineyard belonging to the Monks, a plague on 'em I have forgot the place, the greatest part was bought for the King's use, against a public entertainment, and the Merchant befriended me with the rest. But for God sake Gentlemen speak not a word of this, to any of my Customers, you shall have of it for your own Company as ●ong as it lasts, but if ever this should be known to my Lord, and Sir john, and the W— Country Parlia— nt men, that come to my House, I am undone for ever, therefore I hope you'll be secret▪ Than fly down stairs like Lightning, bring up a Flask of the worst Wine you have, take off the Oil nicely, and present the Glass to one of these judicious Gentlemen. Now observe how the Scene is altered. A plague on't, why this will do, says the first. Do? cries the second, spirting it critically upon the floor, this is fit for Angels, and not poor sinful Mortals. Why, jack, says the third, this is exactly the same Wine you and I used to make merry with on the other side the Alps. An●t please the Lord, cries the fourth, I●ll get my full dose on't to night. Master, we are obliged to you. Here Drawer, bring me up a Napkin; and then a good Supper is bespoke, and drunkenness ensues. A certain Brother of the Quill, that does not ●●ve full a hundred miles from the Exchange, has ●ot a brave Estate by this very trick, therefore ●ee you put it in practice. There are a thousand ●ther stratagems to be used in our profession, but ●hould I pretend to recount but half of them ●ere, I should make this more tedious than 〈◊〉 Pastoral Letter. A little time and expe●ience will soon bring you acquainted with ●hem.  
I have nothing now left upon my hands to ●o, but to answer the Scruples you proposed ●o me in your last; which I will dispatch with ●ll the brevity I am master of. You desire to ●now whether a Vintner may take advantage ●f people when they are in their Cups, and ●eckon more than they have had. To which I answer in the affirmative, that you may, provided it be done in the way of Trade, and not for any sinister end. This case has been so adjudged many years ago in Vintner's Hall, and ●ou may depend upon't. Don't you see how in all other Trades they never scruple to make a penny of a Customer's ignorance. (else how could the Bookseller in Paul ●s Churchyard, have palm'd Ogilby's Fables with Cuts, upon a Country Wench for a Common-prayer Book, and told her that Aesop with his Beasts about him, was Adam in Paradise) and is not drunkenness, while it continues upon a man, a state of ignorance; Besides, is it not a sin, a heinous sin? and ought not we that are in some measure accessary to it, to mortify and punish it, and does any thing more disturb the Conscience of an English man, than to make his pocket do penance? After all, if the fraud is discovered (and 'tis ten to one whether it be or no) the Master of the House is not at all affected by it. A Vintner, like the King, can do no wrong. The Bar indeed may mistake, the Drawers may be Sons of Whores, and misreckon, but a Master is not to be damned for the transgressions of his Servants. Even General Councils with the Pope at the head of them are not infallible. Humanum est errare, the poor woman at the Bar is but just come out of the Country, or the noise of the Bell, or the hurry of business distracted her. Gentlemen, to make you amends I'll call for my Quart: I'd not do an ill thing for the Universe; and thus the farce concludes.  
In the next place you would know how you ought to govern yourself in relation to lewd Women that Gentlemen bring to your House: to which I reply; That as Men that have Wives are commanded to live as if they had none, so in this wicked Town, a Vintner that has Eyes must behave himself as if he had them not, and sometimes too he must have no Ears, otherwise damned Rogue, and Cuckoldly Villain would make but ill music in them. So long as all this serves ●or the promoting of Trade, for my part I think ●here's no great sin in it; this I am sure of, that ●f it were not for this practice, our Neighbours ●he Apothecaries and Surgeons would fairly ●●arve; and you know we should love our Neighbours as ourselves. The worst effect it produces, is in respect to our Wives and Daughters; it sets their mouths a watering, and often makes them wish to be in the Harlot's place. ● once knew a Vintner's big-bellied Wife, that ●aving taken notice of a painful Whore, who by the sweat of her Brows, had earned fifteen pints of White-wine one night with fifteen several Men, went ill from the Bar, and nothing would serve her turn, but she must be delivered ●n the very Chair that had assisted so much fornication. But you●ll say 'tis against your Conscience. Cousin john, you are a young beginner in the world, therefore follow my direction, and clap a muzzle upon your Conscience When you have got twenty thousand pound in your pocket, you may take off the Muzzle, if you think fit, and leave it to itself. Then you may shut up your doors at nine, look as discreetly as the gravest Hypocrite in the City, forbidden singing of Catches in your house, deliver a Gill of Wine through the little Wicke● only on the Lord's Day, call the Sunday the Sabbath, strut to the Parish Church at the head of half a dozen notched Drawers lugging a Geneva Bible between them, and take the Sermon in Shorthand, as many of your Predecessors when they thought they were wealthy enough to deserve damnation, have done before you. This is all, from  
Your affectionate Kinsman,   

LETTER XIII. To my Lady— that married an old decrepit Widower.  
Madam,  
YOu have used yourself with greater cruelty than the most barbarous Tyrant durst have done, had it been your ill fortune to come within his power. Algiers itself inflicts no such punishment upon its vilest Slaves, as you have voluntarily and freely imposed upon yourself. Mezentius, so execrable in History for tying the living to the dead, reserved this inhuman usage only for his Enemies: As brutal as he was, he never dreamt of using his friends in that manner, much less himself. Yet you, Madam, have thought fit to practise it upon one, who to my knowledge deserved a better treatment at your hands.  
All the Town was melancholy upon the news, but especially those who are in the Interests of Beauty, lamented as hearty, as some pious people do when they hear of a Christian Town fallen into the hands of the Infidels. And that we fear is your case, for if a man has no other way of showing his Faith but by his Works, 'tis concluded by all sides that your lot is fallen upon a person who is as nearly related to an Infidel, as an Informer is to a Villain.  
I have lately read over some of the old Martyrologies, where innumerable instances are to be found of persons of both Sexes, who in a fit of devotion practised strange austerities; but none of them come up to you, even of those, who, for the singular mortification they enjoined themselves, have been advanced to the Calendar by Holy Church.  
We meet with frequent instances of young Virgins that have leapt into the flames to make profession of their belief, and courted death in its most terrible mein, as eagerly as other Women do a Coronet and a Title. Some have attended the sick in Hospitals, and in the midst of affluence and plenty, have denied themselves the conveniences of life, and mortified in Sackcloth. Some after the Priest has done his office, have refused to receive the lawful tribute of Matrimony, and some have obliged themselves to a perpetual silence, which is certainly self-denial enough in a Woman. Others have injured their own Beauty to preserve themselves from the Courtship of their Lovers, or from the lust of Tyrants. But, alas, what proportion does this bear to what you have done? Death puts a period to all our miseries: but you have given a greater proof of your constancy, by resolving to live. You have confined yourself to a walking Infirmary, and nothing but providence can give you a discharge. You have sacrificed your youth and beauty, to one that can enjoy neither, nor will suffer others to do it for him▪ like the modern Library-keeper of St. James'▪ he will neither peruse your Manuscript, the fairest in the world, nor lend it to others who can make a better use of it. In short, there'● never a Ghost in Glanville or Aubry, if he me● him a Churchyard, but would take him fo● his Brother Spectre. You, and your Husband between you, really undergo two of the seve●rest punishments which antiquity believed to b● in Hell. He, like Tantalus, sees the Fruit ever●lastingly before him, which he is not in a ca●pacity of tasting. You, like Sisyphus, take an infinite deal of pains to no purpose, to roll a Stone every night, which is no sooner up, but it falls down of itself, and will do so to the end of the Chapter.  
Tho I need not exaggerate your own torments to you, who are so well acquainted with 'em, yet as a Divine sometimes explains the effects of Drunkenness to his Parish that know them as well as himself, give me leave to lay down part of the persecution you undergo before your Eyes, that through you the world may know what you endure.  
The night approaches, but the night which bountifully rewards the pains of other Lovers, proves but the beginning of your misery. Even the Bed, where all the married world besides find happiness, or at least a relaxation from their pain▪ is the Scene where you suffer most emphatically. That old solemn piece of antiquity, called your Husband, leads you to this place of real Martyrdom, but no execution, with his head muffled up in an infinity of Caps, and his Lungs, lest Music should be wanting to the entertainment, are sure to serenade you all night long. Thus he disturbs your repose, but has nothing about him to reward you for keeping you awake. If he has got his Cargo of Wine in his guts, he snores by your side as hearty, as Garagantua and the Monks in Rabelais do after they have rocked themselves asleep, with singing the penitential Psalms. But if in spite of impotence and age, he pretends to disturb you with his vigour, his shot scarce reaches the Walls of the Fortress. Thus your fate is just the reverse of Semele's; she generously expired in the arms of the Thunderer, whereas your Fumbler chills you with his warmest embraces; his very flames gives you an Ague fit, and like the weather we have had of late, his Summer has a spice of Winter in it. The mischief on't is, that every day will leave him a worse practitioner than other, and time, which uses to soften other hardships, will daily make yours more insupportable.  
What is it then that could induce your Ladyship to pitch upon so rigorous a penance, which your very Enemies, (were it possible for you to have any) would never have imposed upon you? Since your Body can be no gainer by this wicked match, one would imagine you did it for the benefit of your Soul; but Religion produces no such miracles in this age, whatever it has done formerly. 'Tis enough now if people stick to it while they get by the bargain; for few, very few, even of those that wear her Cloth and eat her Bread, will be losers for her.  
'Tis, in short, the desire of unrighteous Mammon that has drawn this servitude upon you. You took this nauseous Pill only for the sake of the gild. That pale-faced metal, to purchase which our Merchants ransack every corner of the world, make you take up with this leaky battered Vessel; but with this difference, that whereas they are at liberty to shift their Climate as they see fit, you have confined yourself to the Latitude of 70, and have settled in a Country, which is eternally covered with Snow, and affords no prospect of a Spring. All that your humble Servants can do, is to wish that your Tyrant's Reign may be but of short continuance,, which is the daily prayer of—  
Lysander▪   

LETTER XIV. june 2.92. To Mr P—.  
— jucundissime Willielme  
Ni te plus oculis meis amarem.  
IF I did not love you better than our Statesmen do a new Plot, a Fop a new Fashion, and the Would bewits at Wills do a new Criticism, I would never leave a parcel of honest fellows that are now dusting it about, to retire to a corner by myself, and send you the transactions of Hartfordshire.  
So much by way of Preface, without which even a Letter to a Friend now adays, not to mention those unwieldy things called Epistles Dedicatory, is thought as naked, as an Archdeacon's Hat would be thought by the Country people, without a Rose in't.  
I have now passed just two tedious months ●n the Country, and cannot forbear now and ●hen to cry out, with a little alteration from ●he words of our beloved Horace, 
O urbs quando ego te aspiciam, quandoque licebit  
Phyllide nunc pulchra, nunc Bacchi divite succo  
Ducere sollicitae jucunda oblivia vitae!  The effects of this cursed War appear not where ●o lamentably as they do in these parts of the world. In London you only find it in your Gazettes and News papers. You have the Playhouse to divert you, and the Taverns are as much crowded as ever. Here we have company indeed, and drink; but when we consider ●ow much the latter is degenerated from what ●t was in the time of Peace, it palls our mirth, ●nd we are as heavy-hearted as the jews of old were at the sight of their Second Temple.  
The Wine, in those few places where we ●ind it, is so intolerably bad, that though 'tis good ●or nothing else, 'tis a better argument for Sobriety, than what all the Volumes of Morality ●an afford. My Companion, jack Freeman, who you know is a Libertine in his nature, says 〈◊〉 ought to be employed only in sacred uses, for whatever preparation it deserves beforehand, 〈◊〉 never fails of giving a man a weeks repentance ●fterwards. The Deuce take me, if in some of my sullen moments I don't envy a London Fly I don't mean an inhabitant of Smithfield or Wap●ping, but one that tipples in a creditable Ta●vern somewhere about the Exchange or Temple bar. Where this sorry stuff is not to be had we are forced in our own defence to take u● with Punch; but the ingredients are as long 〈◊〉 summoning, as a Captain would be recruiting his Regiment. In my conscience the King might sooner get a Convocation of honest dis-interest●ed Churchmen together. We must send to 〈◊〉 Market-Town five mile off for Sugar and Nutmeg, and five mile beyond that for rotten Lemons. Water itself is not to be had without travelling a league for't, and an unsanctify'● Kettle supplies the place of a Bowl. Then when we have mixed all these noble ingredients which, generally speaking, are as bad as thos● the Witches in Macbeth jumble in the Cauldron together to make a Charm, we fall too contentedly, and sport off an afternoon. 'Tis true our heads suffer for't next morning, but what i● that to an o●d Soldier? We air ourselves nex● morning on the Common, and the sin and the pain are forgotten together.  
At other times we do penance in stolen March-beer, which fills and clogs, but never in●spires. If it gives any mirth, 'tis sickly and faint like the light one receives from burnt Brandy and our smiles like those of the moody Almanzor in the Play, are hardly to be distinguished ●rom a frown. This course of life we led till ●ur stock was all exhausted at home, and than ●twas with us in the case of drink, what it was formerly between Mahomet and the Mountain ●pon another occasion. If the drink won't ●ome to us, we must even go to the drink, and that we do with a witness; for we make longer pilgrimages to a Tub of Ale, than a Jesuit would ●ndergo to make a Royal Convert. Our director in these matters is an honest Parson of the neighbourhood, one that has made a shift to get ● red Nose and a double Chin in the service of the Church, though he has but thirty pound a year, ●nd to keep his Palate orthodox, and still in ●une, he carries the tip of a dried Neat's tongue always in his pocket. He has some acquaintance with Books and Critical Learning, and pretends to have discovered a false reading in Minutius Felix, which has hitherto escaped all the Germane Commentators. 'Tis that famous passage non magna loquimur sed vivimus. He says and proves it by the context, that it ought to be bibimus, and has brought us all to be of his opinion. ●n short, you may talk of your Secretaries of State and Ministers as long as you please, but he's a person of the most universal intelligence I had ever the honour to be acquainted with. No sooner does one Tub decline, but he has his Emissaries to tell him when another is fit to bleed; and thus ten mile ●ound him. Then we Saddle our Horses, and make as much haste to examine the Vessel, as a Messenger does to seize a Delinquent come from France.  
Having thus tired you with our drinking you expect, I suppose, to have an account o● our Women. I was five days in this Family before I saw one female face. Whatever th● matter is, they are as shy of being seen by 〈◊〉 Londoner, as a Dutch Trooper, the modeste●● animal in the Universe, is of meeting a French Dragooner in Flanders. But t'other morning as I walked in the Garden, I heard a squeaking Treble murder a Playhouse tune, at least a● old as herself; however it was new here; and presently after, a thing in a Commode looked out of the Window, but as merrily as King Charles the Second peeps out of the Royal Oa● in a Country Sign. The Governess of the Castle at last believed we were no Monsters, and re●solved to give us the honour of her Company 〈◊〉 never saw so diminutive a Creature in my days when she came into the Dining-room between her two strapping Daughters, that were at least 〈◊〉 Foot high, she looked, methinks, like a pair o● Snuffers between two Monument Candlesticks After the first salutation was over, she com●plain'd of the Taxes, and the sins of the age that occasioned them; but for all her Sanctity the old Gentlewoman thought it no si● it seems, to paint; which she ha● 〈◊〉 on as thick as an Author does flattery 〈◊〉 a Dedication. The Fucus had be●●ow'd some r●d upon her Cheeks, by 〈◊〉 same token it made them guilty of a 〈◊〉 of false Chronology. It made a resemblance of youth amongst furrows and wrinkles; 〈◊〉 I could not help thinking upon some 〈◊〉 Varelst's pieces, where you see Winter 〈◊〉 Summer flowers, that never grow together, joined in one Picture. But for all that, was a very godly discreet old Lady. She asked 〈◊〉 a thousand questions about the Funds, and 〈◊〉 Lotteries, and whether ●he might dispose ●er Money safely to the Government? No doubt 〈◊〉, Madam, The Confederates and we are a ●undred thousand strong in Flanders. Besides, ●ussel has played the Devil with them at Sea. ●he Messieurs one of these days will come up. 〈◊〉 their knees to supplicate for a Peace. And 〈◊〉 we parted for that time.  
A few days after, this old Lady desired ●ack Freman and me to bear her and her daughters' company to a Wedding in the neighbouring ●illage. At the very mention of a Wedding ●e rejoiced as much as the people in Cornwall 〈◊〉 at the news of a wreck. So down we ●ent to the Farmer's House, whose heir apparent was to be matrimonially bound to his good behaviour. The Bride was a fat fresh coloured ●ench, well built and ruddy, and a great pains-taker (to use Harry Higden's word) I dare war●rant for her. The Husband Elect looked somewhat grum upon the matter, as knowing how much business he had upon his hands. To b● short, we saw 'em conducted to the Enchante● Castle, where the sacred Magician performed his office; when he came to the terrible word● you wots of, the Bridegroom looked as pale as ● Parson that preaches a stolen Sermon at a Visita●tion; and the Bride, after the laudable custom of her Sex, dropped a few precious tears, and wip● them off with her handkerchief. From thence w● came back to the old place of Rendezvous where one would have thought the whol● Country was assembled to behold the Cere●mony; but 'tis an old commendable custom o● your mothers all England over to bring thei● Daughters to such a sight, to prepare them fo● what they must undergo another day; as you● Keepers call in their young Dogs at the plucking down of a Stag, to enter them. All Dinner time th● Bridegroom and Bride ogled one another like Adam and Eve in an old Bible-Cut. Whe● that was over, we removed into the yard, wher● we shaked our heels in Fresco, and towards th● close of the afternoon were interrupted by ● parcel of Country fellows, with a ●iddle at th● head of them, who gave us a spice of their abili●ties under an Elm-tree. When I first saw them move, they gave me an image of Lucretius● Atoms, and how they jumbled and interfered 〈◊〉 the Vacuum. I could not forbear to make ●nother reflection upon it, which shows upon ●hat chimerical grounds people build their satisfaction. These fellows by the pure instinct of ●ature, did what Mr Dogget has learned to do ●ith pains and long imitation. Yet Mr Dogget ●leases, and we should hiss these off the Stage ●or Scoundrels and Blockheads.  
A little before Supper we had a cessation of ●iddles, and our old Lady, whose Piety and Ptisic ●ade her equally troublesome to herself and all 〈◊〉 world besides began the discourse with complaining of the strange debaucheries of the men, ●nd to show her wonderful charity was pleased 〈◊〉 affirm, that not one man in five hundred ●●at had been bred at London, but had passed 〈◊〉 Surgeons hands two or three times before 〈◊〉 day of Marriage. Well, the Lord be praised, 〈◊〉 a Gentlewoman newly married that sat ●ext her, I have no reason to complain of my husband's, he is no drunkard, make me thankful ●●r't, nor given to lewd Company, and what 〈◊〉 of my neighbours can say, I am sure he ne●er knew any Woman before myself▪ Sure 〈◊〉, cries jack Freeman, rising up and bowing to 〈◊〉. For Heaven's sake, Madam, how was it possible? For Moses, Madam— Pugh▪ Sesse she, what 〈◊〉 ye tell me of Moses— With submission, Ma●am, Moses was an honest Gentleman, and though he has set down certain marks by which a Man may know whether his Wife comes a Maid to him— Lord what stuff is here— Yet he no where instructs the Women to know whether the Men have been trespassing before— No matter for that— Did you believe him then upon his own word— I won't tell you whether I did or no— Or did you discover him to be a Virgin, as we do a raw undisciplined Soldier— How is that— Why, Madam, by the awkward handling of his Arms, and making his attacks irregularly. With that all the men fell a laughing, and the women blushed behind their Fans. But this was not enough for jack Freeman, for with an assurance equal to that of a thorough-paced Evidence, though he nerver saw this woman's Husband in his life before, yet, as if he had been one of his old intimate acquaintance, he thus went on— Indeed Madam I can't tell what stories Mr N— might tell you of his own Virtue, and all that, but I knew him perfectly well at the University. He and I▪ Madam, were of the same College; I believe we have drank this room full of Bottled Ale to●gether, and we took him for no Saint there There went a scurvy report of him, but I won't justify it, because Fame's a common Harlot, and a Liar ab initio. But the report, was I remember, that he was very great with his Bed-maker No tawdry young Creature, I must do him but a justice grave stayed discreet person. A Venerable old Matron upon my word, and fit to have made a Wife for Burgersdicius, if ever you heard of him. She wore about her a girdle, some threescore and ten Keys▪ which when she walked made as delicious Music as a Carrier's Bells. And Madam we had a Tradition amongst us, that he seduced this ancient Person with Ninepences; in hard money, and a pair of blue worsted Stockings, but God forbid, that I should affirm this, yet for all I know, it may be true. For, Madam, all flesh is frail. Upon this the Company laughed as hearty as before; the poor Gentlewoman looked blank in the mouth, but Supper came very seasonably to her relief. So to eating we fell, than the fiddles struck up and we danced till ten. At which time the old people, taking the Bride's case into their pious consideration, whose concupiscence had stood upon tiptoes ever since the Parson had put her into the Church-pound, took her up stairs, and as Mr. Otway says, dished her neatly in bed. What happened afterwards you may easily guests.  
'Tis a sign you don't know when you are well, otherwise you would not long so furiously to be here only upon the score of the Country Nymphs, as you call them; for I dare engage you'd soon wish yourself at home again. A raw Wench here in the Country, not to recount to you a thousand other impertinences, before you can bring her to bear, will put you to the Devil and all of expense in perjury. All which is sav●d in London. The Women there are better bred than to ask it of you, or else know the world too well to depend upon't. Produce but the half piece, and they trouble their heads no farther about you. But here you must run through as strict a scrutiny, as if you were to take a post of the greatest trust in the Government— And my Dear will you be everlastingly true to me— No doubt on't Child— But when you've served your turn you'll leave me for some body else— But indeed I won't— It wou●d break my heart if you should— Never fear it— Swear then, my Dear— Why there's no occasion— But you shall swear, dear Rogue, now your Honey bids you, or— So then you are obliged to part with as many Oaths in a moment, as would handsomely maintain one o● the King's Majesties Garrisons for a twelvemonth. Now this is very hard upon the Subject, especially the tender-conscienced. Nay to give you the last proof of their ill breeding in the critical minute of joy, when they aught to be all rapture and contemplation, than even then, when they should be wrapped up in holy silence, they'll ask you a thousand foolish questions, as mal a propos, as if one should interrupt a Popish Priest at the Elevation, and ask him wha● a clock it is. You complain that the Damosels with you dress too fine, and that a pretty woman, set out in all the advantages of art, is too luscious a dish to feed upon, and as bad as Sack and Sugar. I can answer for no body's palate but my own: and cannot help saying with the ●at Knight in Harry the Fourth. If Sack and Sugar is a sin, the Lord have me●cy on the wicked.  
During my stay in these parts, I have reconciled myself to all the sports of the Country, but fox-hunting. They have got me out twice ●pon that account, but if ever they get me ●gain, I'll give them leave to hang me. For 〈◊〉 part, I believe some Priest first invented it, because it requires so much implicit Faith, and ●he drudgery is so stupid. A man must venture his neck for a thing he never sees, and ●hen he has got it, 'tis not worth his while. ●nd this doctrine I daily preach to the Gentlemen, but they mind me no more than the Bankers in Lumbardstreet did the zealous David Iones ●eclaiming against Usury.  
Thus I have plagued you with a tedious long ●etter, which I have not patience enough to ●ook over again, and going to make excuses ●or it, am interrupted by the following Compliments— What a plague are you doing all this ●hile by yourself— Here we have scored you 〈◊〉 Glasses— Come, or we shall lay a heavier fine ●pon you— Thus I am forced to conclude with subscribing myself,  
Your Humble 〈◊〉   

LETTER XV. To Sir john *** From the Cro●●  
WE are at the Tavern, and have your 〈◊〉 under our present consideration. 〈◊〉 concluded on all hands that you can neither justify your present way of living to yours●●● nor yet to the public, which ought to be 〈◊〉 some regard with all lovers of their Count●●● You are got into the modern foppery of Keeping and behold what are the sentiments of this h●●nourable board about it.  
M .... who you know is a Poet, deliver himself in the language of his Profession. 〈◊〉 maintained that, whatever the wicked 〈◊〉 thought to the contrary, a Miss was as 〈◊〉 inferior to a Wife, as the Pindaric Muse is to 〈◊〉 Epic; that one is a Whore without Stay●● whereas the other is a civil well-bred per●●● that always wears them.  
Mr ..... who is likewise a Son of Parna●●● desired me to tell you, that a Miss and a Wife 〈◊〉 ●er only as a single Epigram, and a large Collection ●f Poems, viz. that a man sooner rids his hands ●f one than the other. But that, as Martial has ●ong ago declared his opinion in the latter case, Quid prodest brevitas, dic mihi, si liber est. That is to say, what the plague is a man the better for the shortness of a Distich, if he obliges himself to read a whole Cartload of them; so he desires to know where lies the mighty advantage of a Whore above a lawful Spouse, if the Spark keeps constant to her; and if he does not, where is the sense of keeping her in pay.  
M .... expressed himself against the predominant sin of Keeping, to this effect. Of all the vices the present age is to answer for, nothing comes near it, and yet the Sots make merry with Marriage; which is full as ridiculous as if Dr Chamberlain should laugh at the Bank of England for paying people in Paper. If Marriage is expensive, Keeping is certainly more, and with less pretence. I knew, says he, a Gentleman that loved Gaming as he did his eyes. One night he lost a hundred and fifty Guinea's at the Groom-Porter's. When he came home he found his Lady in the Parlour, with two Candles burning before her. Lord! Wife, says he, what a strange extravagance is this: Two Candles lighted at a time, and house-keeping so chargeable? But he forgot, it seems, what his shaking of his elbow had cost him that evening. This is the case of all Keepers; what our Churchmen charge the Dissenters with, is actually true of them, they startle at a Gnat, but can swallow an Elephant.  
Right, says Harry .... Keeping is the greatest Solecism a man of pleasure can commit, If the Gallant is true to his Mistress, it has all the Phlegm, and if he is fond of her, all the expense of Matrimony. In short, I have an equal aversion to Marriage and Keeping. They differ only like Holbourn and Cornhill: Both are streets. But to do Sir john justice, the latter is nothing near so long as the former.  
That is as it happens, cries virtuous Mr ... for I can show you several persons about the Town that parted fairly with their Wives before the first month was over, and yet could endure to cohabit with their Harlots many years. But imagination governs all these matters. For my part, I think of Women as I do of Books, the finest of both sorts will hardly endure a thorough examination. If they find more savour than this, they may thank the Courteous Reader for it, who sees more in them than they deserve. I remember I took Mr Waller and Sir john Denham last Vacation down with me into the Country. I read them over, and what was a consequence of that, I was weary of them. You may laugh at me for a man of a vicious palate, but I can't help that. Before I came to Town I was glad to borrow Wesley's execrable Poem of the Parson of the Parish, only for variety.  
Tho I am not wholly of your opinion, says Mr .... to him, yet I agree with you that Keeping is nonsense all over, and that for a reason which none of you have yet assigned. Sir Henry Wooton's Definition of an Ambassador in part belongs to him. Legatus est vir bonus ad mentiendum foris Reip. gratia. And a Keeper is a good man to maintain a pretty woman in fine clothes, handsome Lodgings, and all that, for the public benefit of the Commonwealth.  
M .... the Merchant is in our company, who has travelled abroad, and seen the world: He says that a Whore in the Civil State is what Farthings are in the business of Trade, only to be used for the convenience of ready Change. But that a Man, that makes a Whore, if not his constant Wife, yet his constant Companion, and a Government that makes Farthings their only current Money, will soon be convinced of the vanity of their politics. And he said Ireland was lately a sad instance of the latter.  
What vexes me most, says .... is to hear these Keeping Coxcombs magnify themselves upon their discretion. I save charges by it, cries one—  
Yes, replies his neighbour, they are as much saviours by the bargain, as one that goes down to Tunbridge or the Bath, to save his expenses in Town. But since this point has been spoken to already, I will say no more to it. Only give me leave, Gentlemen▪ to cap the story of the two Candles, with another like it. A brace of Country Attorneys w●nt into a Tavern one morning to take a whet, and because they had not seen one another ●or a Term or two, they drank to the tune of eleven Pints. At last one of them called for a French Roll: Why Brother, says the other, are you not ashamed to inflame the Reckoning? Let the Keepers apply this.  
Well, but I scape Confinement by it, says another— I don't know that, says Mr N— for I think a man is as much a Prisoner by a Gout or Rheumatism of his own begetting, as if the Government had confined him. What signifies it a farthing to one in this case, whether the Priest ties the knot, or he does it himself? 'Tis true, the confinement of Keeping does not last so long as that of Marriage, but it devours more in a month than the other does in a year. It's like falling into the hands of the Black Rod, or a Sergeant of the House, where the Fees run so high, that you spend more in a few weeks, than would handsomely maintain you in another Prison all your life. But to see by what Chimeras the world is managed. Matrimony is Hell in Folio, because it's a charm that can't be dissolved when a man pleases. At the same time those that Keep can sometimes submit to a confinement full as long and severe; yet bear it ●asily, because forsooth 'tis of their own ordering. This puts me in mind of the famous Citizen of Paris, who had passed threescore long years within the City-walls, and never had the least inclination to make a step into the Country. So soon as he heard that his Prince had commanded him never to stir out of it, he discreetly died with the thoughts of being a Prisoner. There are Penitents in Spain, who on certain days of mortification lash themselves as hearty as any of our Newgate Rogues are whipped by the public Executioner. 'Tis certain the pain and anguish are the same. But one does it voluntarily, and the other cannot help it. What pretty Salvos a fruitful imagination can find out  
Thus far, Sir john, we have given you our thoughts of Keeping in general, without descending to particulars; but now we come to consider your own case more nearly. To the surprise of all your friends, you have pitched upon a Daughter of the Stage, upon an Actress, to show your particular favours to; and pray be pleased to hear what th● company thinks of it.  
Mr ... who next to Mr Rymer is the best Historian about the Town, says that this transaction of your life will be bound up with the Annals of Goatam in the next age; because to pretend to confine a She-Player to one's self, is altogether of a piece with hedging in a Cuckoo.  
M .... the Poet first mentioned, proved out of the ancient Records of Parnassus, that all Actresses belong to those of his Profession; and that if a Lay person pretended to lay his unhallowed hands upon her, he was guilty of making an Impropriation, and aught to be indicted in Apollo's Spiritual Court.  
M .... of the Temple, who, though he never goes to Westminster, is nevertheless an Oracle of the Law, pretends that your Case comes within the Statute of Monopolies, that you have done as bad as enclosed a Common, and that all the lovers of Magna Charta ought to break down the Fence.  
'Tis but fit it should be so, cries another, for he that pretends to confine a Damosel of the Theatre to his own use, who by her character is a person of an extended qualification, acts as unrighteous, at least as unnatural a part, as he that would debauch a Nun: that after all, such a Spark rather consults his Vanity than his Love, and would be thought to engross what all the young Coxcombs of the Town admire and covet.  
Captain .... ended this serious debate. He said, that whoever gave pay to a Woman or a Soldier expected they should prove faithful to him. Now, continued he, to expect fidelity from a Female that has been raised up in that Hot Bed called a Playhouse, is to expect honesty from an Evidence. 'Tis a folly not to be excused. 'Tis to bottle up Air, like Shadwell's Virtuoso. 'Tis to wash a Blackamoor. 'Tis to make Dr Oats rectus in curia. 'Tis, in short, to grasp at more than attaining an impossibility; for 'tis impossible to secure any other Woman to yourself, but much more an Actress.  
Thus we have sent you, Sir john, the opinion of the Committee of our whole House upon this occasion. You are desired to consider of it coolly by yourself; and when you have so done, if 'tis possible repent; otherwise do like some of our Divines when they contradict what they formerly asserted, and stand buff to it.  
Tom .... would have you meet us to morrow night at the Rose, where he pretends to attack you with so many arguments against the Female Sex, that he does not question to make you a Proselyte to the Bottle.   

LETTER XVI. The Answer.  
Gentlemen,  
I Find I have a whole Posse Comitatus to encounter; but I rely so much upon the goodness of my Cause, that without calling in the assistance of my Brother-Keepers, without giving myself the trouble to repel numbers by numbers, I don't question but that I am able in my own single person to maintain the field against you.  
You are divided, Gentlemen, like all other Assemblies, in your opinions: Some of you seem to favour Marriage, but declare against Keeping: Some of you denounce War equally against both, and consequently must set up for Fornication at large. I make this Inference, because my Charity won't suffer me to believe that any of you are such rank Infidels as to discard the Sex by wholesale. If I thought you had any of that complexion among you, yet I should not think it worth my while to dispute them into better sense. 'Tis an old re●ceiv'd Axiom, you know, that contra negantem Principia non est disputandum.  
As for the former Gentlemen, I mean those that have some respect for Marriage, but are utter enemies to Keeping, they would oblige me to prove that lying at an Inn, where a man stays no longer than he finds himself well used, and the place agreeable, is half so chargeable or foolish, as staying there all one's life, let the entertainment be what it will. There are certainly degrees in confinement, and the Fleet is not altogether so Pagan and uncomfortable a place, as Sally, or Algiers. Oh! but Imagination governs all these matters. If, as we have frequent instances of it in History, Imagination can kill as effectually as a Blunderbuss loaded with a dozen Bullets, deliver me, I say, from the hands of that Tyrant Imagination. But though this is answer enough to so trifling an objection, yet, Gentlemen, I will prove that there's something more than bare Imagination in the case. A Miss' Patent runs durante bene placito, and she lies eternally at the mercy of her Patron. A Wife has a Lease of your Body for term of Life, and has no such obligations upon her to keep within bounds. One like an open Town can make no resistance, and consequently has no Temptation or Interest to rebel. A Wife is a sort of a Garrison, fortified by Law and Act of Parliament, which the Sovereign can't dismantle when he pleases. She lies secure behind that unrighteous Bulwark called a Settlement, which is made as strong as the Westminster-hall-Engineers can contrive it, and though she's never so plainly convicted of revolting from her lawful Master, and holding an Intelligence with the Enemy, she forfeits neither Life nor Limb; nay, she can challenge a subsistence as long as she lives. This, I think, shows with a witness that there's a vast difference between Marriage and Keeping: but to dismiss this point, were a Wife never so sincere, and never so submissive, yet there's a Duty in the case. Consider what I say Gentlemen, there's duty in the case, in which single word there's dulness and impotence, and death and desolation, and, in short, every thing that inspires horror, and casts a damp upon pleasure. 'Tis as bad as the Mene Tekel on the Wall, the very name carries a Palsy with it. It puts people upon unlawful evasions, it makes them think on other folks, when their thoughts should be at home, and leads them to commit downright Adultery in the Nuptial Sheets.  
Even that Pink of Courtesy, Sir john Falstaff in the Play, who never was a niggard of his Lungs, yet would not answer one word when the Must was put upon him. Were Reasons, says that affable Knight, as cheap as Blackberries I would not give you one upon compulsion, which is but another word for Duty. And now we are upon this Chapter, Gentlemen give me leave to copy from you, and tell you a short story. A Nobleman, who shall be nameless, in King Charles the Second time kept a Chaplain, that was a Rakehell enough in all Conscience. He would break windows, kick and cuff, get drunk and swear, and do all the boisterous things you can think of, as uncanonically as any of his cloth. This fellow had not lived a full month with my Lord, by the same token that they kept him as hot as a Glass-house all the while, but, weary it seems of his reception, he came staggering into the Room where my Lord was drinking with some friends; faith my Lord, says he, you and I must part, before George we must. Why so, Doctor, have not I used you with all the civility— You mistake me, my good Lord, I love Drunkenness as well as ever a Peer of you all; but a plague I hate the thoughts of being forced to mount the Guard every night, I hate to be confined to it. You make Drunkenness a Duty, my Lord, and consequently a Virtue, and I'd have you know I hate all Virtue— Pray let me advise you to think of this at your leisure.  
I come now to those worthy Gentlemen, who are against Enclosures of all sorts, and fall upon the first Game they can start. Not to call their judgements in question, which they never put to the expense of choosing for them, I would fain be informed why a man should be so foolhardy as to expose himself to the fortune de la guerre, when there's no occasion for it; or what mighty satisfaction there is in coming off with the loss of an Arm or a Leg, when he might have kept himself safe. Were there no such things as Diseases in the World, and had Colum●bus never discovered the Indies, perhaps I might be reconciled to this sort of life: but as I am a professed Disciple of Epicurus, I would by my good will husband every moment to the bes● advantage: for this reason I scorn to take u● Pleasure, as young Prodigals do Money, at fifty per Cent. Interest; and 'tis for this very reason that I abominate Drunkenness, the only Pande● that can make you swallow intreaguing in com●mon, because a man gives half an hours seeming satisfaction, and two or three days real sickness  
I am now arrived to the last part of my In●dictment, where you play all your small shot a● me, because I have thought fit to be particular with an Actress. Some of you pretend tha● such such a choice has more Vanity than Lov● in it. Admit it has, yet I shall never be ashamed to act upon so honest and so universal a princi●ple. What first set up a Coach and six, but Va●nity? My Lady might show herself to as muc● advantage in a Chariot and two; and if m● Lord would condescend now and then to bea● the hooff, as his predecessors did before him it would not be the worse for his Honour health. What introduced Periwigs as big a● Haycocks, when the Border, of venerable me●●●ry, would have served the turn as well, or what justifies those Gigantic grievances called Commodes, but variety? In short, what furnishes luxury, and sets off magnificence, what plunders every corner of the world, and puts us upon ransacking every Element, but this very ●ame inspirer of all our motions, for which you wisely condemn me. You may rail at variety as long as you please, but I would not give a farthing for a Woman, whom all the Town does not desire to lie with. For this reason I would have her frequently seen by all the young fellows, and myself that enjoy her, pointed at in ●he streets, and envied by all that know me. This sets an edge upon a man's inclination, though it flagged never so much before, and makes his Mistress still new and charming, because still desired by others. Indeed some of you are pleased to call the Playhouse a Hot Bed. If this were any reproach, so are the Exchanges, and the Boarding Schools; and so, in short, is all London, and ten miles about it. I was in my passion going to say all the Island; and if I had said it, I think in my Conscience I had not been guilty of Scandal. After all, if the Playhouse is a Hot Bed, so much the better: for I have a mortal aversion to coldness, and every thing that resembles it. But to expect Constancy from a She Player! I always thought them made of the same ingredients with the rest of their Sex, and if they have not their Hypocrisy to answer for, I think 'tis a sign of their discretion at least▪ 'tis an Article of my Creed, that no Woman i● constant but she that finds it her Interest to be so▪ If that cannot keep my Damosel within due bound I shall never break my heart for the matter.  
And to conclude this Letter, if I must be cheat●ed, which I am afraid is the case of us all, I ha● rather it should be done by a jew, from whom we expect it, and whose Profession it is, tha● by a snivelling precise Villain, that has a Text for doing it. Gentlemen, I am  
Your most humble Servant   

LETTER XVII. To his Mistress, that showed his Letters to his Rival. By Mr A—  
YOur barbarous and unjust usage of me has had this good effect, though I am not at all obliged to you for it, as to make me a very good Christian. I was in a fair way to commit idolatry, and to pay my adoration in a wrong place, so far had a gay outside imposed upon me. But, Madam, you have absolutely cured me of this superstitious blindness, and now I can plainly discover the Fiend, where I imagined a little before, that nothing but a Goddess inhabited.  
Since my eyes have been thus opened, I can look upon the fairest of your Sex, without finding the least emotion in my heart, and the most beautiful Woman of Heaven's making, affects me no more than one of Sir Godfry's. Nay, in some respect the Copy may be said to exceed the original. It has as fair and charming an outside, but nothing of that vanity and impertinence, nothing of that Hypocrisy, Malice, and Dissimulation, which make up the composition of the other.  
I dare appeal to yourself, who are none of the most impartial Judges in the world, whether I ever said, or did, or writ one misbecoming thing to you. Passion, perhaps, which intoxicate no less than Wine, might betray one to some excesses, but still they were to your advantage, on which score you were obliged, if not to forgive them, yet at least to bury them in silence. I never approached you but with a sacred awe, and always represented a Divinity to myself, when ever I took Pen in Hand, to acquaint you with the sentiments of my Soul. If my incense was not of the first sort, (for I am humble enough to believe, that you might have received much better from a thousand other hands) yet the sincerity of him that offered it, aught to have covered him from your displeasure. Tho you dislike my flame yet in common Charity you might have suffered it to expire in its own Urn. If you were resolved to punish it for aspiring so high, one single frown would have extinguished it, or at least secured you from being troubled with it any longer: but to divert yourself and my Rival at the expense of an unhappy Lover, who was then bleeding fo● you, to publish his infirmities only occasioned by the violence of his passion, Ol● thou downright Devil, I should say Woman, wa● cruel to the last degree; and such usage, that the worst of Princes never treated the worst of Subjects with. But Heaven be praised, it awakened ●very resentment about me, and in spite of my weakness, gave me courage enough to tear you ●rom my heart, which you had so unjustly usurped.  
But I forgot, Madam, that you made me a Christian, so to show that I am still in perfect charity with you, I hope, and that without any ●eserve, to see you married to my Rival. Since ●our vanity takes such delight to be addressed, the ●ery next day after the Priest has joined your ●ands, may you receive more Letters from your pretended or real admirers, than are sent to a Se●retaty of State after the first discovery of a Plot. May you show them to your Husband, in hopes he will challenge one of the Sparks and fall in your quarrel. May they have that effect as to fly-blow him in the jealous side of his head, but may he never think you worth the while to venture the cutting off a finger in the defence of your honour. Still may the Sparks persecute you with ●heir Billets, and still may he think 'em to be of your own contriving, and treat you accordingly in short, may he and you live long, exceeding ●ong together, and may providence so influenee all his actions, as to make him an instrument of doing Justice to you, and to the  
Much Injured, J. S.   

LETTER XVIII. From a Beau, dissuading his Brother Beau to go to Flanders.  
ALL the Chocolat-Houses at this end of the Town are exceedingly surprised at the inhuman resolution thou hast taken of passing this Campaign in Flanders, and talk of going into Mourning for thee. Nay, wouldst thou believe it, those brawny Insensibles the Chairmen take it to heart, and threaten to renounce Slip and All-Fours, since thou hast decreed to leave England. Prithee Tamburlaine what have the Ladies done, that thou shouldst be so cruel to them? or rather what unwieldy sins hast thou committed, to be so barbarous to thyself? For my part, I look upon thee to be bewitched, for I cannot otherwise account for thy madness. Thou hast no Religion to fight for, that's certain; and there are Liberty and Property-Fools enough in the Nation without thee to help to increase their numbers.  
Lord! what will the degeneracy of this Age come to? That a Gentleman that understands Dressing to perfection, and has spent so many ●ours at Lockets, and the Blue Posts, to cultivate ●is palate, should ever be such a Sot, as in cold ●lood, and of his own true accord to visit that hellish Country, where the Burgo-masters and the ●oors conspire between them to infect the very ●ir with their Belches. Rot my Diaphragm if the ●asty word has not polluted my Ink, so that I am forced to put some Orange Water into the Standish, to correct the unsavoury smell. Really Tamburlaine, ●o think of the miseries thou must endure this Summer, is as bad as going up to the Monument. It has made me giddy, confound me else, and my head turns round like a Weathercock. In the first place, to lie in a damned sneaking Tent, where you can scarce turn yourself round, with no Curtains to your Bed; nay, not so much as a Looking-glass in its lowest signification: then no other Pulvilio to scent your Periwig, but the dust of the Plains and Gunpowder, and to stink worse of the latter, than Cheapside did formerly on a Lord Mayor's Day, upon those unrighteous things called Marches, no such convenience as a Chair to be got. For your comfort, Tamburlaine, you must walk through thick and thin with no Waiter behind you to clean your Shoes, among a herd of skirtless Rascals, that stink worse than Polecats. Oh let me think no more of them. Besides, 'tis a million to one, that walking thus in the Sun, will dignify your Face with some Pimples. Horrid and hideous! the very thought of a Pimple has so discomposed me, that feeling something itch in my Forehead— I must beg your pardon Tamburlaine— if being under the apprehensions of such a Disaster▪ I now and then make bold to consult that faithful Oracle my Glass— Heaven be praised 'tis not so bad with me— and yet what the Devil means that little spot of red— 'Tis well 'tis no worse, I may thank my sotting for this— Dem it, to drink a whole pint of Claret at a sitting— Hell and Furies how it increases— I would not have a P●●ple Tamburlaine for the Indies— But 'tis gone after all, and I find my suspicions were in vain.  
To come now Tamburlaine to the Field of Battle, those ill-bred whoreson things called Bullets, are no respecters of persons. A pox on them, they observe no distinction between a fine Gentleman and a Dragooner. Perhaps it would not grieve a man to lose his life upon a good occasion, (I speak this by way of supposition only) but to survive the untimely fate of one's beloved Wig, to see one's embroidered Coat mangled and hacked, is enough to break the heart of Hercules if he were alive, and had a true sense of things. To dissuade you, if 'tis possible, from embarking in this pernicious affair, let me conjure you as a friend, to reflect upon Sir john Foppington's Case. About two months ago he put on a milk white Suit, designing to show himself in it that evening in the Park: and to do Sir john justice, he never exerted the brightness of his imagination so much ●s he did upon the trimming of it. Coming by Catherine Street, a saucy impudent Chimney-Sweeper daubed his Coat. I wonder Tamburlaine, by the ●y, that the Parliament never made a five mile Act to banish such profane Villains out of all Corporations, as once they did the Dissenting Ministers. But so it happened as I tell you, and ●oor Sir john immediately went home, and took ●is Bed upon't. He had all the agonies of a despairing sinner— Come Knight, says I, there's no ●arm I hope, prithee take courage and get up— Good Heavens! my Coat cried he— Why there's no danger, but it will recover and do well— Oh ●hat confounded Chimney-Sweeper— Providence sent him to visit you for your Sins, Sir john— But what ill have I done to draw such a judgement upon me— The ways of Heaven, Sir john, are dark and mysterious. jack— I never committed Murder nor Sacrilege in my life, why then should— So he run on for above six hours. All this while we endeavoured to soften his calamity to him, by re-minding him of the inconstancy of human affairs. We refreshed his memory with stories of Kings deposed, and famous Monarchies subverted, but 'twas all in vain; he could not be persuaded to live, till the Scowrer had taken his Oath before a Justice of Peace, that the Coat was not a farthing the worse. Nay, this was not enough, the Tailor was sent for to confirm the Scowrers' deposition; and the Woman of the House, who saw him put it on in the morning, must swear as she hopes to be saved that it was not in the least injured.  
If this melancholy instance, Tamburlaine, is not enough to deter you from your wicked resolution, and you have no bowels of compassion for the issue of your own fancy, meaning your clothes; pray retire for a moment or two to your Closet, lay your hand upon your heart, and ask it coolly and soberly, how it would relish that most extraordinary accomplishment, a wooden Leg. Think what a decent figure you'll make in a Lady's Chamber, with so fine a qualification. Good Lard, a wooden Leg! 'Tis almost as charming as the Devil's Cloven Foot. A Lover made of Flesh and Blood above, and of Timber below, what an odd composition is that! The Minataur in the Fable, who was half Man and half Beast, was a Cherubin to him. Or Tamburlaine, if this does not mortify you, pray consider that there are certain impudent things in an Army called Guns, that without ask any questions, will demolish a man's Nose, or run away with one of his Arms, or carry off half his Teeth an Under-jaw, and yet there lies no action against them for it. Such blessings as these are to be had in Flanders, with due care and application; and Tamburlaine, you may see several Heroes about the Town, who purchased them at no little expense of time and blood at Steenkirk and Landen. But, Tamburlaine, if you have any Guts in your Brains, you'll never long to make one of the number.  
Having mentioned the loss of Arms, Teeth, and Legs, without which, Tamburlaine, we can neither make our reverences with a good air, nor talk agreeably to the Ladies, nor perform our parts at a Ball. If this won't fright you, 'twould be impertinent to put you in mind that you have another thing still to lose, and that is your life. For alas, Tamburlaine, what is life worth, when we have lost the only thing that maketh the trifle dear to us? As for me, confound my glandula Pintalis, if I am not of Will Essence's opinion, the greatest Genius that Covent Garden ever produced, for exquisite dressing, who used to say, for his part he knew not what a man's head was good for, but to hang his Hat or his Periwig on, and that if it were put to his choice, he would as soon lose that as any other part about him; that the chief end of man was to dress well; and death itself was not so formidable as a Dishabille. But whether does this subject hurry me, or how came that sour monosyllable Death in our Pens way? Faith Tamburlaine, I dare trust my thoughts no longer with so melancholy a Theme. So hoping you'll be so kind to yourself, as to consider more of this matter.  
I am Votre tres humble Serviture.  
The Shoulder-knot Cabal meets to morrow night near St James', to do a singular act of Justice, and to think of ways and means, how to restore those long neglected Ornaments. Your Company is expected there.    

The Contents of the Miscellany Poems.  

THe Contented Whore. An Imitation of Ep. 66. in Mar. l. 12.  
Formosa Phyllis Nocte cum Mihi tota, etc. page 1  
Mart. Ep. 20. l. 1. Si memini, fuerant Tibi quatuor, Aelia Dentes. p. 3.  
Advice to a Vintner. M. Ep. 19 l. 1 The hint taken from, Quid te Tucca juvat. Idem.  
M. Ep. 5. l. 2. Ne valeam, si non totis, Deciane, diebus, etc. p. 4.  
M. Ep. 61. l. 11. Sit Phlogij an Chione venere Magis, Apta requiris? p. 6.  
Hor. Ode 8. l. 1. Lydia dic per omnes, etc. p. 8.  
Hor. Ode 11. l. ●. Quid Bellicosus Cantaber, etc. p. 9  
Hor. Ode 27. l. 1. Natis in usum latitiae Scyphis, etc. p. 12.  
To Mr Henry Purcel. p. 14.  
An Ode in Hor. paraphrased, Audivere Luce, etc. p. 16.  
The 10 th' Ode in Hor l. 3. paraphrased, Extremum Tanaim si biberes Lice, etc. p. 19  
The 26 th' Ode in Hor. l. 3. paraphrased, Vixi puellis Nuper Idoneus, etc. p. 23.  
The 15 th' Ode in Hor. l. 3 imitated. Uxor pauperis Ibyci, etc. p. 25.  
An Epig. in Mar. imitated, Quaeris sollicitus diu, regasque Cui tradas, Lupe, filium, Magistro, etc. p. 27.  
Upon Tom. Shadwel. p. 29.  
In decretum Par. 89. Non de Adulterandis vinis p. 29.  
Inscriptions designed for the Dyal in Lincoln's Inn Sq. p. 30.  
An Ep. upon a Beau per idem.  
The Song of Go Perjured Man, set by Dr Blow, Translated into Latin. p. 31.  
To a Lady that would not grant the last favour under cheaper terms than Matrimony p. 32.  
On Marriage per idem.  
The Fable of the Bat and the Birds, in Imitation of that of the Buzzard in the Hind and Panther, in the year 1689. 35  
Against the Declaration for Liberty of Conscience in 87. p. 36.  
A satire upon a Quack p. 41.  
An Inscription upon a Tobacco Box. p. 47.  
An Imitation of it in English p. 48.  
Upon burning some Anti-monarchial Books in the year 1691. per Idem.  
To Mr D— on his ballads p. ●9.  
To Mr Higden upon the ill success of his Play, p. 50.  
The Extravagant Lover p. 53.  
A Translation of Teucer Salamina, Patremque cum Fugeret, etc. H O· 7. l. 1. p. 54.  
O. 9 l. 1. Hor. Imit. Vides ut alta stet Nive Candidum etc. Written in 85. p. 56.  
An Imitation of the 6 th' O. in H. l. 1. Scriberis vario Fortis, etc. hostium in the year 85 p. 59  
A Prologue spoken at Oxon. p. 61.  
Epilogue. p 63,  
An Imitation of a Fr. Ode in Saint Euremont's Works Tom. 2. p. 66.  
To a Gent. that cut off his Hair, and set up for a Spark in his old age. p. 67.  
Part of a 2 d Ode in Hor. l. 4. Translated p. 68  
Henrico Higden Arm. cum Infoeliciter Ipsi Comoedia cesserit 1693. p. 69.  
On the Treatment of the modern Drama p. 70.  
An Imit. of the 4 th' Epode in Hor. p. 75.    

Table to the Miscellaneous Letters.  

A Letter to the Duke of Bucks, by Monsieur St Euremont done into English. p. 129  
To the Duchess of— by the same hand p. 133.  
To Madam— by the same hand. p. 139.  
Letter out of the Reflections of Monsieur Villiers. p. 141.  
A Consolatory Letter to Mr H— p. 148.  
A Letter to W. K. Esq p. 152.  
Some Remarks on marriage. p. 160.  
Another Letter to Mr H— p. 166.  
Letter to the Reverend Mr— in Sussex. p. 177.  
Letter by one of the Commons p. 183  
Letter to Madam— kept by a Jew in Covent Garden, by Capt. Gr— p. 188.  
— From a Gent. in Holland to his Friend in England. p. 191.  
— To a young Lawyer that dabbled in Poetry. p. 196.  
— From a Vintner in the City to a young Vintner in Covent Garden. p. 201.  
— To my Lady— that married an old dicrepit Widower p. 310.  
— To Mr P— p. 316.  
— To Sir john— p. 328.  
— The Answer. p. 336.  
— To his Mistress that shown his Letter to hi● Rival. By Mr B— p. 343▪  
— From a Beau, dissuading his brother Beau to go for Flanders. p. 346▪   
FINIS.   

A LETTER FROM A Gentleman in the Country, TO HIS Friend in the CITY. Leeds, Feb. the 2d.  
I Have at last, with much Difficulty, procured you a Copy of the Character of a Latitudinarian Anatomised, which you have so long, and with so much Importunity desired of me: All I can learn of the Paper is, that the Author Calculated it for the Meridian of York, as I take it, (the Magistrate of which place in the Year 44, was a famous Ambidexter) and that it will equally serve for any Corporation within his Majesty's Dominions; but I will not detain you from it any longer.  
A Latitudinarian is a walking Amsterdam of Religions, out of whom all the Ancient and Modern Heresies might be easily retrieved, though the Volumes of Epiphanius and Ross were lost. He thinks no part of a Church sacred but the Weathercock, and honours the Memory of him that Invented A Windmill, because it can Grind indifferently with East, West, North and South. He talks much of Moderation, yet is as hot as one of his own Custards, and as Choleric as a Hasty-pudding; he's as Positive in his own single Self, as an Assembly of splay-mouthed Divines; Geryon and Cerberus were only Types of him, but though he has three Heads, viz. An Independent, ● Presbyterian, and a Church of England Head, yet he has not Brains to furnish any one of them. By his Wisdom and Gravity one would think he had Long Ears, but 'tis certain he has none, for he is Deaf to the Cries of the Poor; and though he devours Widows and Orphans at a Morsel, yet he has no Bowels. His Conscience is as unaccountable as a Modern Hypothesis, which spares Cockle-shells in Noah's Flood, and dissolves the hardest Metals; for it starts at an innocent Ceremony, when it makes nothing to digest Perjury and Oppression. 'Tis impossible to frame an Oath, but what he'll readily Swallow to gratify his Ambition. He calls them State Counters, takes them for his Interest, and breaks them for his Convenience; he calls God to witness, and yet believes nothing of his Existence, like the Fellow in Plautus' Amphitryo, that Swears by Hercules before he was born. Trade, with him, is the Law and the Prophets, and, in opposition to the Text, he's resolved to serve God and Mammon together. Had he lived in the time of Constantine, he'd have gone to the Christian Assemblies one day to save his Bacon, and to the Heathen Temples the next to secure a Stake against a Pagan Revolution. The Men of Gotham are Registered for a pack of Fools, for endeavouring to hedge in a Cuckoo. Is it not then a scurvy Reflection upon a certain wise City's care for Religion, to pitch upon a Chameleon for its Head, who changes his Colour as often as he shifts his place? 'Tis pity that our Laws, that Order so honourable a Reward for plurality of Wives, have not made the same wholesome provision against plurality of Religions. He rails at Superstition, and pretends to stand up for the Primitive Church; but though we read that the Apostles were Fishers, they were not Watermen, to look one way and row another.  
He is very severe against the Bakers, and punishes them upon every Occasion; not for Cheats, for as such he honours them, but only to show his Skill in the History of the Bible, where he finds it was one of that Profession that first hanselled the Gallows. He designs to adorn the Annals of his Government with something Extraordinary, and to purchase a Name as Herostratus did of old, by Inflaming the Church. Stow and Holinshed that took such pains to describe Calves with six Legs, and all unnatural Births; if they had lived in our Age, What a strange Account would they have given of this Triple-headed Beast, that exceeds all the Monsters that ever were shown in Bartholomew Fair, that ever Afric or Holland produced?  
When his Dullness is mounted on Horseback, he makes me think of some Ancient Coats of Arms, where the Supporters are of the same Species with the Beasts in the Scutcheon. If the City, to give another Instance of their Discretion, should choose B●ll to succeed his Master, as we find Caligula once designed his Horse for the Consulship, I dare Engage for Ball, that he'll make the soberer Magistrate of the two; and after he has had his Belly full of Hay and Oats in the Morning, that he won't kick, and winch, and keep a pother to be carried to Brewer's Grains, and Chopped Straw, in the Afternoon.  
Whatever he may be to the rest of his Servants, his Cook leads a very easy Life with him, and has as little to do all the Year round as a Barber in Muscovy, a Lord Treasurer in Scotland, or a Tailor under the Line where they all go Naked. He preaches up Temperance at his own Table, but is Harpy incarnate when he can Devour on Free-cost, and hates no Sins but those that are Expensive. He shows his Charity to the Poor, by providing Prison-room for them; and for fear they should Die of Surfeits, takes care to let them Blood with a Dog-whip.  
In his own single Self, he outdoes all the strange Changes in Ovid's Metamorphosis. Oedipus himself, were he alive, could never unriddle him. The satire that quarrelled with the Fellow in the Fable, for blowing Hot and Cold successively with the same Breath, What would he say to our Fleabitten Magistrate, that can do both at the same Instant? If he varied his Body, as often as his Soul tacks about, no Tailor could fit this Posture Clark in Religion, but he that made a Manteau for the Moon. In vain he promotes a Reformation, who ought to begin it at home, and stands up for the Sabbath, which no one profanes like himself, for he Teach●s more Atheism by his Example, than all the Parsons in the City can ever hope to preach down. He is of several Churches, but of no Religion, as we say of Hermaphrodites, that by being of both Sexes, they are indeed of none, and can neither conveniently receive Love, as Women, nor Act it vigorously, as Men. He pretends to hate Divisions, and yet encourages Schism, which he foolishly judges to be Expedient for the State, as the Women on the other side of the Tweed refuse to be cured of the Itch, because, forsooth, it is wholesome.  
Nebuchadnezzar's Image had a Head of Gold, and Feet of Clay. Our Idol has a Skull as soft as Pap, to a Face of Brass, and Arms of Iron. Having mentioned Brass, commend me to that Murus Aheneus his Conscience, which has long since learned the Trick Nullâ pallescere Culpâ.  
I wonder with what pretence he can punish Beggars, who is himself the most inexcusable Vagrant in the Three Kingdoms. If the Pythagorean System of Transmigration be true, the next remove his Soul makes must be into an Otter, or some such amphibious Animal, for one single Element can never content him. He altars his Shapes according to the Company he is in, like those experienced Sharpers, who when they are at Court would pass for Good City Security, and when they are in the City, would be thought to have an Interest at Court. When he thinks his Authority will bear him out, Lucifer is less Haughty and Absolute; at other times he's as Submissive and Humble, as a Temple-Bar Vintner in the Long Vacation. But who would not bestow a Cudgel upon this fawning Cur, that will leap over a Stick for the Pope's Nuncio, and next minute do the same for a Crop-eared Tub-drubber?  
He goes to a Sermon with the same Intent, as the Prisoners in Ludgate go to the Grate, only to show his Chain; or, as the Beaux go to a Play, not to Reform his Manners, but hear himself exposed. But though he sees Hypocrisy lashed every Sunday, he stands all the Fire the Parson's flash at him, like a Managed Horse: He's convinced that 'tis a Cowardly Scoundril Sin, yet he won't part with it, because it brings him in Gain: As I knew a Fellow once, that had Aches all over his Body, which punctually foretold all Changes in the Wether, yet could not be persuaded to be Cured, because he would not lose his Almanac, as he called it. Had this Linsy-wolsie Brother lived under the Mosaical Dispensation, how finely had he been trounced, for ploughing thus with an Ox and an Ass, and dividing himself so nicely between a Cassock and a Cloak. He revives the Story of Penelope, still Unravelling what he had done before, and Unlearning under one Teacher what he Learned under another.  
The poor Cully in Aesop, with his two loving Wives, one of which cleared his Head of the Black, and the other of his Grey Hairs, till at last they left him none between them, is a true Emblem of him. The different Churches he goes to will so Weed and Purge him by degrees, that they won't leave him a Rag of Religion to cover his Nakedness. With him, as in the Creation of the World, the Evening still goes before the Morning; for though he vouchsafes his Morning to the Established Church, yet in his heart he's at the Meeting, and his Thoughts still run upon his Afternoon's Extempore Repast. Thus he is guilty of Schism, even when he seems to Assist at the public Service; like the Man that committed Adultery with his own Lawful Wife, by thinking on another. I never see him at the Cathedral, but he makes me think of an Algerine putting out Christian Colours. Indeed, if the Churches were shut up, something might be said for his going to the Barn, for even Horseflesh we know was laudable Diet a● the Siege of London-derry. If he does it for Variety, 'tis a sign he has a most wretched Palate. Who, but a Coxcomb would go to a Farce in Smithfield, when the Playhouse is open? Who, that has Dined at Locket's, would afterwards Sup among Porters in a Cellar in the Strand?  
This last place puts me in mind of his extraordinary House-keeping, though so great a Gormondizer of Spiritual Food, which costs him nothing, yet very little will content him in his own Kitchin. By the power of good management, he can extract three Meals for himself and Family out of one single Shoulder of Mutton, which piece of Frugality he learned, I suppose, from the Story of the Welsh Sherriff, that converted an old Cloak first into a Coat then a Waistcoat, and last of all into a pair of Breeches. I have heard of a Gentleman, who, purely to save his Money, would take a Coach that cost him Twelve Pence to be Trimmed by a Twopenny French Barber in Soho. The City perhaps, with equal Discretion, chose him to Husband their Stock; but by starving the Poor, he has put the Parishes to such Charges in Burials, that they are not like to save any thing by him; unless as old Chiron was, both a Tutor and a Pad-nagg upon occasion to Achilles, so they make the Beast serve them in a double Capacity, that is to say, both as their Horse and their Magistrate.  
I have been told of a Man that had a very bad Memory, so very treacherous and unfaithful, that if he had made an Assignation in the morning, he was sure to forget it long before the hour came. Well, says he, to prevent this for the future, I am reseolved to buy a Memorandum-Book, But what was he the better for it? He soon after forgot that he had bought any such Director to relieve his Memory. This is the Case of our Latitudinarian: When those of his Party are under Hatches, than all his Discourse runs upon Christian forbearance and Condescension, and never a Passage in the Old or New Testament escapes him, that makes for that purpose. But when they are mounted, and in the Saddle, the Tables are turned, and he lays about him like Thunder and Lightning, and forgets that Persecution is the Mark of Antichrist. 'Tis true, all the while he devours you, he cants of Moderation, and pretends he does it unwillingly, but this is only a Copy of his Countenance. He first tears you asunder, as the jews did Isaiah of old, with the wooden Saw of a dull heavy Speech: But who would not rather choose to make a Breakfast for a generous Lion, than to be Eaten by a weeping Crocodile?  
For my part I wonder that the Priests of the different Churches he repairs to, don't execute a piece of Military Discipline upon him, and truss him up for a Spy. But I suppose he keeps in with all, by telling them severally in a corner that each performs best; like the Harlot, in the Play, that was kept by three Gallants, and told each of them in private, that he was the Person that gave her the most Satisfaction. 'Tis next to a miracle to me, that the Priesthood, who are so sharp-sighted upon other Occasions, don't see through the thin Artifices of this barefaced Impostor, and dart the Thunder of the Church upon a Wretch who pretends to be a Friend to all, and yet is an Enemy to the whole Tribe. I hope none of the Prophets have given it him under their hands, that 'tis no Sin to go to the Temple of Rimmon. But this present Contending between the several Persuasions to secure him to their Party, gives me a perfect Resemblance of an Anthill, where there is the same lugging, and tearing, and struggling about a dead Fly.  
In short, our Latitudinarian is a Retainer to all Churches, but a Member of none; and will never have the Benefit of his Clergy, though he pretends to make his Court to all the various Sorts of them. 'Tis an unthinking Sot, that keeps the Streets cleaner than his own Conscience. At last, every Body finds out his Disguise, and despises him; and as several Cities formerly contended who gave Birth to Homer, so, in his case, all Churches and Congregations strive who shall Disclaim him first. Though he has a middle Station here, he must not expect one in another World. Lucifer only can pay him the Wages of his Hypocrisy, in whose Clutches we leave him.  
Your most humble Servant, H. E.  
POSTSCRIPT.  
I Am informed that Dr. Oats has been very prolific of late, pray send me down all his Books by the Carrier, for▪ I long to be opening his Magazine of Scandal. An honest Parson in the Neighbourhood calls him Orestes, because he's Scriptus & in tergo, nec dum finitus. Another applies this passage of Horace to him, Ubi quid datur OT I illudo, which he Interprets thus, When any thing of Dr. Oats 's Writing comes abroad, I fall a Laughing, and make myself merry with it.  
FINIS.