A DIALOGUE Betwixt H. B's. GHOST, AND His Dear Author R. L. S. 20. May .1681.  GHOST. 

BE not afraid, its kindness brings me here,  
And makes me leave a while the lower Sphere;  
That I in time may warn thee of the wrong,  
Done by thy Scribbling Pen and Lying Tongue.  
Thou I indeed can tell thee now not more,  
Than thy own Conscience often has told before:  
Yet that thou mayn't thy Wicked Course still tread,  
I'm come to give Thee warning from the Dead.  
I can't by Words or Gain deceived be,  
For now I can through all disguises see:  
Repent for thou growest old, must yield to Fate,  
I say repent, before it be too late;  
For all those Lies I ushered to the World,  
Deceived by thee, now, in m face are hurled,  
That witty Mal●ce I did once admire,  
H●d in thy Works like Sulphur now takes Fire,  
And though to you on Earth I still proved kind,  
'Tis from your Pamphlets I my Torment found;  
For with those Sheets I Printed, now well dried,  
The wicked Devils sing and scorch my Hide:  

If thus to me such Punishment's assigned,  
What Torment will they for the Author found?  
You see therefore to warn thee I'm kind.    L. e S. trange. 
In the Name of the Goblin of Hobgoblins, a Dissentor, what makest thee to come to trouble me? Thou I am not much afraid of Devils, believing none, yet thou hast made me start: Beshrew thee, I was afraid thou hadst been come to ask me money. Prithee go and be Damned if thou wilt; I do not desire thy Company, since I can make not more use of thee.  GHOST. 
Ungrateful Wretch, am I a trouble now?  
Who to my cost, so useful was to you?  
I who alive, was your ill ridden Slave,  
Not sooner am I dropped into the Grave,  
But all's forgot, and what to me seems worse,  
My very kindness now you count a Curse:  
Is it because to me so much you own,  
Or else, for that I now your inside know?  
Provoke me not, jest to the World I tell  
Those hidden times you know I can reveal.  L. S. 
Dear Friend Ghost don't think to affright me with that; You may know too, if you please, how I have Wit enough to make the World believe any thing, and that I have Impudence enough to outface all Accusations and Oaths, That I have Courage enough to abuse every Body, and that I have Dissimulation enough to appear what I am not, so that say what you will, no body shall believe you.  GHOST. 
And such a Fool was I, whilst I did live,  
Deceived by you, I did the World deceive;  
But though the World will not believe my Ghost,  
And that on it my Words and Truth were lost;  
Yet since this Voyage was in kindness meant,  
Methinks that I should move you to Repent,  
And touch your hardened Soul with some remorse,  
And make you leave your Wicked, Lying Course.  L. S. 
Good Ghost leave Preaching, and done't trouble me with thy Impertinence, we have had so many arise from the Dead of late, that they are grown familiar, and almost contemptible: You had therefore as good hold your Tongue, for you'll be but laughed at: And as for myself, do you think I care for your Morality or Divinity either; I loved you very well, while alive, but 'twas for my own ends, and I am not a little troubled at your Death, because I shall never meet with such another, so very useful as thou hast been, and I shall be at a great loss. I know thou hast suffered upon my Account, but have not I Eternised thy Name with my own, and over-paid thee for all? and I was thinking to have wrote thy Elegy; had not you come thus to interrupt me, and to accuse me for doing so much Good to my Country, and satisfying my Conscience in showing my Loyalty to my King, and my Zeal to the Church, against these Vermin and Pests of the Nation, that writ and speak against me and Popery.  GHOST. 
It is a sign you fear not God, nor Hell,  
Since thou to me so, reat a Lie darest tell  
To me, who now all your pretences know,  
All has to me discovered been below.  
To brag of Loyalty, to me refram;  
Your Loyalty I understand is Gain:  
Your Love to King, your County and your Friends,  
Is but to serve your base and wicked Ends:  
'Tis Malice and Revenge, which you call Zeal,  
For Holy Church, and for the Common Weal:  
I know full well what I t'rest you drive on,  
And whom you would Advance unto the Throne.  
Death has new Senses given, new Ears and Eyes,  
I was before a Fool, but now grown Wise:  
For every thing, I now have seen and heard,  
And how your Zeal is fired with Reward.  
And prithee since here's none but I and You,  
Tell me, let Conscience tell me, isn't this true?  L. S. 
What a Preaching Book seller are thou become? What hast thou to do with me and Conscience? do you think I am now to be Catechised by a paltry Ghost about Conscience? come, come, I have studied the point, and question not, of you will furnish me with Books, as thou wert want to do, but to argue my Case with Advantage at Lucifer's Bar, and baffle all his Orators. But, tell me, how you came to be so Poetical? do they all speak in Rhyme in the neither World?  GHOST. 
Use you your Drolling Prose, this fits my Mind,  
Thus Oracles of Old did speak, you found:  
The Crimes of Men, Satyrs do still Rehearse,  
In poignant Rhyme, and in two Edged Verse.  
Grave as a Church man, I your faults would tell,  
To keep your Soul from being Damned in Hell:  
If you at last will sober grow and wise,  
Leave your black Crimes, and follow my Advice.  L. S. 
I warn't you'll advice me turn honest, undeceive the People, Recant, ask Forgiveness of those I have Wrong'il, do as I would be done unto, and such like Moral Stuff: turn Honest, that's Impossible, what a shame would that ●e after so many years Travelling in another Road? and what should I get by it? honesty won't Cloth the Back, nor fill the Belly, as the World goes: I fancy De-que-vedoes, Hell is a much better place than the starving Purgatory of Honesty. And as for ask forgiveness, what a Task would that be? 'twould ask more years than I have Weeks to live, I have wronged and abused so many, a whole Nation at lest. I am better Principled than so, and have seen more leading Precedents.  GHOST. 
I see the Fiend that Lodges in thy Heart,  
But I have done for thee a Friendly part;  
've told thee what at last will be thy Doom,  
Though thou still laughest at what is yet to come.  
Go on, believe not what thou dost not see;  
Believe not living Oracles, nor me.  
Thirst after Gain, Honour, and empty Fame,  
And get at last for all, a Crack-fart's Name.  
Fond man, dost think thou canst a Nation sway,  
Or the grand Wheel of Fate that's turning, stay.  
With thy still scribbling and defaming Pen?  
Which makes thee hated of all honest men:  
With Diamond Pen in Brass thy Works are wrote,  
That they below may never be forgot.  
They'll worse prove than your great Senate's Vote,  
And thine own Words will serve to cut thy Throat:  
For the more stir thou with thy Pen dost keep,  
Thou here perhaps thou may'st some profit reap,  
Thy Crimes and Punishment do both Increase:  
Thy wit is grown thy burden and Disease,  
Justice below is to the Crimes made fit,  
Which will condemn thy vile pernicious wit:  
And what to others trouble gave above,  
Below for e'er shall thy own Torment prove:  
There's but one way this Justice to prevent,  
Leave scribbling, ask forgiveness, and Repent.  R. S. 
So he's gone: I hope he'll now be quiet: This is, I think, the nine and thirtieth warning I have had; and to as little purpose, as all the rest, and so I'll, let 'em know in my next Pamphlet, which shall out as soon as I can agreed with a Bookseller. 'Tis good to be true to one's Principles.  

T … Ghosts talk what they will of Hell and Pain,  
From real pleasure they shan't me restrain:  
The Itch of Scribbling, and the sweet of Gain.    
FINIS.  

LONDON, Printed for J. M. May 20.