GREAT NEWS FROM The King OF POLAND: OR An Intercepted Letter from TONY, the first King of POLAND, to the Reverend Salamanca Doctor.  
Poland October 27. 1682. Reverend Doctor,  
SINCE your first discovery of your Horrid, Fanatical, Damnable, Popish Plot, I have not been sensible of so much Grief, as at present lies upon my disturbed and discomposed Spirits, not only in regard that I am deprived of the happiness of your Person, which ever afforded much assistance to me in all exigences; the appearance of those worthy Patriots, which I fear I shall never see, so happily met, again, but also of those my beloved Associating-Friends with whom you Know, we used to Cabal it from Tavern to Tavern: But however though I am at present deprived of that happiness, yet I wait with Patience, knowing that it is not impossible but the Stars may have the same Revolutions in 82 as they had in 41. And in the Interim, shall beg your Correspondence, which, I know, you would easily afford me, did you imagine how I sympathize with you in sorrow for the discovery of our well begun-Associating-Intrigue; But to use the expression of our Proto-Martyr College (Pardon me, now I remember myself, it was of that Arch-traitor Coleman) there is no trust in man, especially in those Zealous Lewis', and those Tory Irish Blades: Yet pardon me, if you imagine, that I should herein reflect upon you (whom I have ever found a fast and Elbow-Friend) for 'tis only those before mentioned, whose mouths I thought I had sowed up: And as a mark of my thankfulness to you herein, I now return you my thanks for it, and if I can pleasure you by way of Chapplin (though I hope our late large Contributions are not yet all spent) give me notice and I shall not be unmindful: And since I have more reason and am more able to describe an upstart Courtier (as being, you know, a Relation of mine) I have therefore taken that Trouble upon me; first in regard I had nothing else in my thoughts to send you; Secondly that you might know him, and consequently avoid him, which (desiring you would communicate it to my Dearest Friends) take as follows, viz.  

A True Character of an Upstart Courtier.  
HE is a person whose Sense, most commonly, consists in Seent; whose actions and Gestures, are nothing but Cringes; whose Breath is an Airy Compliment; and whose Rind (like that of the Cinnamon-Tree) is worth all his Body besides: The height of his Ambition, is to receive Instructions from Corantoes and Play-Bills; these Notions must regulate the whole Course of his Living. He never knew what Credit or Reputation meant, further than Running on Score: His Tongue is Gentleman-usher to his Wit, and ever goes before it: He presseth into the highest Places, thrusts himself upon the greatest Businesses, but ever falls off with some palpable disgrace to himself. He is wonderful Exceptious and Choleric, where he sees men are loath to give him an occasion, yet you cannot pacify him better than by Quarrelling with him: He useth the fine Rhetoric of  to gain esteem, for they are both his Imprimis and his Item: His whole Body goes upon Screws, and his Face is the Vice that moves them; his Skin is Tanned in Civit, and all his Behaviours are Printed: The chief burden of his Brain is the Carriage of his Body, and the setting of his Face in good Frame, which he performs the better, because he is not Disjointed with other Meditations: Associates he has from all Quarters and of all Qualities too, save good: He is but the Sign of a Man, for he is made of nothing but Antic  and Cringes. He is a Mushroom-Gentleman that shoots up in a Night to Honour and Preferment. In the speculation of his good Parts, his Eyes, like a Drunkard, sees all double; and his Fancy like an Old Man's Spectacles, makes a great Letter in a small Print: He is one that weighs his Breath between his Teeth, and dares not smile beyond a Point for fear he should unstarch his Look: He had rather the whole Kingdom should be troubled than an Hair out of order about him: He is ever in the slavery of Ceremony and Compliments, for he varies his Face as Seamen do their Compass. If it be true that the Giants e'er made War with Heaven he had been a fit Ensign-bearer to that Company, whose thoughts fly a pitch above ambition. Every hot fancy and passion is the Signal that sets him Forward, and his reason ever comes in the Rear. All foreign Vices are Naturalised to him, for he makes them all his own by Imitation: He is the very sum and abstract of Lechery, and (without the assistance of a well-made Tap) certainly expires in Cupid's Flames: He is persuaded that it is as Imposseble to find a  Man, as it is to throw a Drop of Water into the Sea, and take it thence unmingled, since he is so bad himself, as to make no scruple to Court any thing that carries the Face of a She: All his behaviours are so ridiculous that they are enough to make Heraclitus (were he in being) burst into a Laughter to behold them: As to his Extraction he is Son to Crysalaus, who (as the Poets tell us) being invited to the Wedding of Jupiter and Juno, went thither bravely attended, rarely accoutred, Rich in Golden Attires and Gay Robes, but otherwise an Ass, the Gods seeing him come in such State and Pomp, risen up to give him Place; Exhabitu hominem metientes, but Jupiter knowing what he was, Immediately turned him into a Butterfly: Murders to him are but resolute Acts, and Dams, matters of small Consequence: All his Words are steeped in Oil, for he ever commends to you, first what he knows you like, and hath always some absurd History of your Enemy, and then wonders how your two Opinions should so Jump together in one Man: He is an unnecessary Letter in the Alphabet of Creatures, and the cipher in Nature's Arithmetic, and in the Accounts of all good Men: By this time he may be grown so Notorious for private, though Damnable, Associations and cunning Insinuations (by the help of a little of your Salamanca Divinity) that he must either Fly his Country or submit to the Axe or Halter.  
To Conclude, he is a Glorious Fool, his greatest Pride consisting in the Rattling of his Silks, a Gaudy nothing, having a Pedlar's Pack, and a Brokers-Shop about him, and as his Life has been Odious to All, so his End is commiserated by Few. Thus with my Dear Respects to all my Quondam-Associating-Friends, either at Russels-Ordinary, or at the Exchange-Sun-Tavern. I Rest,   
Your much obliged Friend. TONY   

LONDON, Printed for A. G. 1682.