A Dialogue between Father P—rs and William P— n.  F. P. 
WHY how now William? Why so cursed sneakingly this morning? Methinks I see the very same silly looks in thy countenance, as the Russianly Irish Squire made thee put on, when he found thee a bed with his Mistress at Cork; who, as they say, by threatening thee with a sound Drubbing, so far extinguished the Flames within, that thou couldst not forbear Quaking ever since.  Will. 
Humh! Quaking. Truly Brother P—rs I say unto thee, that were but thy Actions as harmless as thy Wit, I am almost persuaded I should not have found thee in this stinking condition. And I say further, that hadst thou but half so much Light within thee, as that Son of Belial left in me, thou mightst have imbibed a considerable muchness of Education, from the example of my prudence in the time of my Tribulation.  F. P. 
As how I prithee.  Will. 
I verily when I foresaw the Timber ready to fall upon my Shoulders, thought it a burden too heavy for me to bear, and wisely withdrew from under the impending storm: And though my Bowels continually earned after the Lady (so called) yet I mortified the fleshly lusts of this wicked World, and consigned the Out-going of the inward Man to the secret Congregations of the Saints; and whenever I find a necessity of obeying the motions of the Spirit, am content to pour out myself upon the Sisters only. Now if—  F. P. 
Nay but William, I must here take leave to interrupt thee, and tell thee, in thine own language, that thou liest, and the truth is not in thee: For although thou settest up thyself as an Arbitrary Tyrant over the Bodies of the She-Saints, insomuch that the Fathers of our Society, as well as those of other Orders, do as it were with one voice complain of thee William P— n; that though they herd amongst your Assemblies more now than ever they did, yet are they disturbed in the comfortable enjoyment of their Help-meets by thee the said W. P. who dost Traitorously and Maliciously debauch the Holy Sisters from the Duty and Allegiance which they own unto their Spiritual Fathers, and engrossest them to thyself. Thus Father P. lost his precious Rebecca, thus was Father S. deserted by the devout Priscilla. Nay, they say thou hadst formed a design of carrying them all away into Captivity to thy Sylvania, and shutting them in a Mussulmannick Nunnery, called a Seraglio, erected for thine own use and pleasure; and for this very reason, say they, thou didst in thy Declaration there set forth, give Liberty of Conscience to Jews and Mahometans. Yet notwithstanding all this, thou dost still run a whoring after thine old inventions, to the great scandal of the wicked, and greater anguish of mind to those deluded Sisters. Witness the young Gentlewoman whom thou didst lately cause to squeak in the Coach, out of which she was forced to leap, and run two miles almost up to the knees in dirt, for fear lest thou shouldst have forced her further to cry out. Well, but to the purpose again. I'd fain know of thee how I might have been edified by the example of thy former debaucheries.  Will. 
Why then to deal plainly with thee, know that when thou wast last shopt up in Newgate, under the clutches of thy old Friend Titus Oates, I take thy condition to be very near akin to mine, when I was fallen into the hands of my Merciless Irish Persecutor. Now after so narrow an escape, hadst thou but valued thy Neck half so much as I did my Shoulders, or been so terrified with a Halter as I was with the Bastinado, thou wouldst not have run thy Head into the same Noose, by acting over again the works of Darkness of the Babylonish Whore, but wouldst abominate them, as I did those of my Carnal Mistress.  F. P. 
I thought thou hadst known us better, than to forbid a Jesuit to Plot or act Treason where ever he comes. But since we are so well acquainted in other things, prithee leave off thy Cant for a while, and give me the best counsel thou canst how I shall behave myself in this Juncture of Affairs.  Will. 
Well Father, since we are alone, I shall lay aside the person of a Quaker for the present. To deal therefore fairly with you, and like a Friend, is to advise you to rank the Author of Killing no Murder amongst your best and soundest Casuists; and follow that wholesome Counsel which he gives to Oliver Cromwell.  F. P. 
That is, you'll tell me, to one hang myself out of the way.  Will. 
Faith you are in the right on't. For I do assure you, there is not one Argument in the whole Book which might not be much better applied to your Reverence; besides, a thousand more that could be alleged, had I but the time to tell you, or you the Philosophical patience to hear.  F. P. 
For satisfaction sake in a matter of this moment, pray let's have the heads of some of them.  Will. 
In the first place, all that can be said for the preservation of His Majesty's Interest and Dignity, directly persuades you to what I now advance. For as nothing can be more serviceable to him, especially at this time, than the united Affections of his People, so nothing can be more effectual to re-enkindle their Zeal for his Person and Honour, than the removal of him who is the only occasion as well of their present discontents, as the Confusion they like to be in. Secondly, All the fine things that can be said for the good of your Country, Centre here too; for what can be more beneficial to it, whilst there is such a Storm a gathering, than by your suspension to deprive its Enemies of their chiefest pretence to disturb the public repose. Nay, and lastly, If you would but once perform this Heroical Action, the very Fathers of the Society will bear a part in the public Jubilee; for let your life be never so long, no service you could do them will ever be able to out-ballance their Joy, when they shall be in Possession of all those Guineas which you received the other day from Duncomb.  F. P. 
Notwithstanding my condition, I cannot but smile to see thee make such a serious Fool of thyself; for I can't imagine thee to be so great Ass as to believe that I ever consulted the Interest of King or the People, nor of the Society itself, any more than it consisted with mine. Prithee therefore letting all those alone, which are at present the least of my thoughts, give me the best advice thou canst concerning my own Dearest Self.  Will. 
Why if I hold myself up there, I must still continue to exhort you to imitate your Predecessor Achitophel, in the best Action he ever did in his Life, and set all things in order and so proceed. For had not you better peaceably go out of the World in a String of your own tying, than live to see the Brave and Generous Churches-of-england-man (for such even we must confess them to be) to continue in their unshaken Loyalty to their Prince, and venture their Lives and Fortunes against his Enemies, let their pretences be what they will; and consequently all your Villainous Insinuations exposed to the just Indignation of His Majesty; Your Person to the fury of the People, as your Namesakes had lately like to have been, and after all to fall into the hands of an unmannerly Executioner.  F. P. 
Well, but I have not behaved myself so yet, but that I have some Friends remaining still: What think you of the Dissenters?  Will. 
As for the main Body of them, you have been long ago sufficiently acquainted with their Sentiments concerning you. And then for our Pensioners, you may easily imagine how far you may trust them, since the Pious Mr. Alsop, the Discreet Mr. Lob, the Zealous Mr. Vincent, instead of railing against the Church of England, according to their Duty, have tacked about already, and are bellowing full-mouthed against the Abominations of the Scarlet Whore.  F. P. 
How do you find the Quakers stand affected? I hope you have at least procured me some Friends among them.  Will. 
I must confess my small endeavours han't been wanting, but that damned Simile of my Brother Meads Fishpond, does so stick in their Stomaches, that if they should but see one of your Character, they'd presently believe they should be devoured as fast as the Devil in the Picture swallows down Jesuits, when he shits whole Armies of Soldiers. Besides, instead of a Pike, they take you for a more devouring Otter.  F. P. 
Well then, my last refuge must be to the Churches-of-england-man, some of them have been my Tools already, and why mayn't I Cajole them so as to make them serve again? Tho' the Rascals—  Enter an Honest Tory. Tory 
Sir, Your most humble, and most obliged Servant; Sir, I hearty kiss your hand.  Will. 
Verily, John, I say unto thee, that I rejoice greatly to see thee in this place.  F. P. 
Have you any Service to command me with His Majesty? Would you accept of a Place? A Mandate? Or a Commission? Pray, Sir, make use of me.  Will. 
O what an inward Joy and Consolation would it be unto me, were I but able to find out a way to assist so good a man as thou art.  Tory. 
A Pox take ye for a couple of Drivelling Rogues: Know that I am just now come from waiting upon His Majesty, who has been Graciously pleased to admit me to his Hand, and given me a Commission, not sullied by the Solicitation of such Villainous Sycophants as yourselves; which I am resolved to execute in his Service to the last drop of my blood. And let me tell you, That as your impudent Impostures, by which, for a time, you deprived me of my Prince's Favour, the greatest blessing any trueborn Englishman can enjoy, could not shake my Loyalty; so shan't all your cringeing hinder me from endeavouring to discover to my Royal Master, the Villains that have brought the Nation to this Confusion.  [Exit Tory.] Will. 
Damn him for an unmannerly Rascal. But How now Father, What's the matter with you, you look as if you were disturbed?  F. P. 
I must retire to consider about the advice you have given me.  
FINIS.