A DIALOGUE BETWEEN Sir Roger— and Mr. Rob. Ferg— In NEW GATE Relating to the PLOT.  Sir Rog. 
THe Worthy Mr. Ferg—  Mr. Ferg. 
The Reverend Sir Roger.  Sir Rog. 
Oh Sir, this is a smile of Fortune indeed, when in this melancholy Region of Abdication I am permitted, thanks to a kind Gaoler, the conversation of the celebrated Mr. Ferg—, whose Person though I never had the Honour to be acquainted with, yet his Name and Merits have been my particular Familiarity.  Ferg. 
Yes Sir, I understand my Name and Merits have been your particular Intimacy; you have been both their Herald and Historian, and have blazoned them in capital BLACKS in many a fair Observator.  Sir Rog. 
Really Sir, you do me a great deal of right; I have never been sparing of Black and White: The flourishes of my Quill have been profusely generous. I never saw any shining Feature, or Mosaic face, from Great Noll's Nose to Little Titus his Chin, but I have played the kind Lely. A beautiful Pen should never want Drapery, where my pencil could furnish it.  Ferg. 
'Tis worthily said of you. You speak like a plain Dealer.  Sir Roger. 
But, Mr Ferguson, I have had a long desire of kissing your Hand by the way of congratulation, and welcome to our side. From a Saul to a Paul, a Persecutor to a Devote; as there's joy even in Heaven at a sinner's conversion, give me leave to express no common Transport, in gaining so considerable a Patron to our glorious though, at present, drooping Cause.  Ferg. 
Ay, Sir Roger, I am a sort of a Comeover, to that drooping Cause, as you call it, Ecce signum, these Bonds.  Sir Roger. 
Ay, that's our common misfortune. But, Mr. Ferg—, I hope the great Truths that I have so long preached, published and recorded, amongst the many Eyes they have opened, have had some illumination upon Mr. Ferg—; for I should be proud of being any ways instrumental to so eminent a Conversion.  Ferg. 
Nay, Sir Roger, not to boast any great operation upon me; for I am a meet Volunteer, and my whole Illumination is purely my own, nevertheless I must give thee this immortal Applause, That the protestant Zealots that have had any hand in this Plot, or been wellwishers towards it, are most, if not all, thy Disciples; and all that die in it, are no better than thy Martyrs.  Sir Rog. 
Good Heaven forbid! My Martyrs! What, draw innocent Blood upon my head: Lord have mercy on Me. I hope you are not in earnest.  Ferg. 
Nay, 'tis too true for a Jest. I say nothing but what I can prove.  Sir Rog. 
How prove Sir! I hope you do not set up for an Evidence.  Ferg. 
No, Sir Roger, as I am a bonny Scot, I am more a Gentleman than to make a Peacher; not but my natural, personal Tenderness would go far, to tempt my mortal Frailty that way: However there's no danger of me in that Case, for had I an inclination towards it, I am afraid the World wants Faith, and a Ferg— 's Oracles would find but few Believers: And therefore pray Sir Roger, dispel that bodily fear: All I have to say is only Inter nos.  Sir Rog. 
Nay, than you have dispelled my fear, and therefore pray go on with this bloody▪ Charge against me, for I dare stand any Arraignment, where there's neither the face of Judge nor Jury, Mr. Ferg—.  Ferg. 
Say you so? Then pray tell me what are all our Jacobite Fools, but Pupils and Proselytes to those two Pillars of thy Church, Jure Divino and Passive Obedience.  Sir Roger. 
And what have you to object against those two Pillars?  Ferg. 
Nay, no great matter, but only that a very weak Samson may totter them: For, in short, what is thy Divine Right from above, and our Nonresistance below, and all thy longwinded Arguments upon that Subject, any more than so many high flown Enthusiasms, to help up the Golden Image of an Arbitrary Nebuchadnezar, whilst that Fiddle of thine, thy Observators, have been the Psaltreys and Sackbuts, to tune us to fall down and worship. A King, at this rate by thy Assertion, provided his direct Succession be unquestionable, in nothing else, though never so indirect, can be questionable: For he may Be what he please, and Do what he Please, Set up what he please, and Pull down what he please, Swear what we and our Laws please, and perform what he and his No Law please; Run away from his People when he pleases, and Return when and how he please: In fine, That a Right Line sanctifies all Wrong; That the True Blood in his Veins▪ Entitules him to the whole Blood in our Veins; And that if he please to take it, we must please to give it him, unless our Tears or Prayers can shield off the Blow; for Sir Roger is pleased to allow no other Edge-Tool or Armour, Offensive or Defensive for our protection.  Sir Rog. 
Lord Sir, I am all amazement: can you talk at this wild rate, and be one of us?  Ferg. 
One of You! Ay, never the worse for talking, old Boy. 'Tis a sign I am the more▪ ingenuous Friend to your Cause, when List under your Bannor, ex mero motu, frankly and generously: Not blindly drawn into a party by Cobweb Arguments, the Gin to catch Woodcocks; Men of Sense are above it.  Sir Rog. 
But sure you don't think that the Right of our Great Master, his Divine Right of Royal Inheritance in his Caim to 3 Crowns a Trifle to be thus jested with?  Ferg. 
Jest Sir! All Jest. There neither is, nor ever was any such Divine Right in the World.  Sir Rog. 
How! No Divine Right.  Ferg. 
Right is so far from any Claim Divine, that 'twas always the Creation of Power, and Sanction of the Community. If a Lineal Chain of Succession be all thy Foundation, Prithee, in what part of the World wilt thou find it? How many times since the Conquest in 27 Reigns has that Succession been broken, (and if once broken, 'tis never truly rejoined again): For instance, between the Houses of York and Lancashire, those quondam hot, and sometime bloody Disputants of Sovereignty, How have Kings been deposed? What Changes made? and yet the present▪ Allegiance never questioned nor disputed. What Divine Right had Harry the 7th. when the world will tell you his best Title lay in his Queen, and yet we never read that his People either murmured or quarrelled his Recognition to the Throne, by Act of Parliament, out of any Grievance, that the Duke of Richmond was their Crowned Head, and their Crowned Heiress but a subject: Nor, as I ever heard, did his Son Harry the 8th. his Successor, upon the death of his Mother, claim possession before his Father's decease, by any Pretention▪ of better Royal Blood in his own, than his Father had in his Veins.  Sir Roger. 
But certainly the Divine Right of Monarches—  Ferg. 
Is a mere sophistry. The Juggle of Priest-craft, and pretention of Superstition. So far from any thing of Divine in the case, that God Almighty himself Abdicated (or very little better) the very first King even of his own making; laid Misgovernment to his charge, and Anointed his Successor even before his death, and that too in the person of his darling David, the Man after his own heart; so far from a Son or Right Heir of Saul, that he was no Kin to the Family, so little was Royal Succession the Care of Heaven, or aught to be the Quarrel of Man.  Sir Roger. 
Truly, Mr. Ferg—, you talk strange bug words, but what ever your own private Opinion is, I hope you do not broach these Tenants amongst our Jacobite Friends.  Ferg. 
Quite contrary, Sir Roger, for where populus vult decipi decipiatur. The Wise know better. Shall we be worse than the Race of Ham, uncover our own nakedness? No, Sir Roger, not all Evangelica veritas, but some pia Fraus. There's stratagem to be used in a Church militant, as well as a Camp militant, not all down right strength of Reason in one, nor length of Sword in the other: For Example, pray who were greater Assertors of that Jus Divinum Doctrine than our two last dying Friends, and as they had lived so strenuous in it, did not the wise managers of their death, those sweetners of Mortality, the 3 Tyburn absolver's, very prudently take care that they should die in it as strenuously too. Ay, Sir Roger▪ we must not be those false Traitors to our Cause, as to bewray our own Nest.  Sir Rog. 
Verily, Mr. Ferg—, you discourse the Politics of our Cause extremely well. But to satisfy one Curiosity, pray let me quit this subject, and without offence be so bold as to ask you one single Question.  Ferg. 
A double one, and welcome, Sir.  Sir Rog. 
Considering then the Character the World gives of You, your Fluctuating Principles and uneasiness in all Governments, how comes it that those worthy Gentlemen, concerned in this Glorious, though dangerous Enterprise, dust lodge so great and Important a Trust with such volatile Mercury, as Mr. Ferg —'s?  Ferg. 
My Character, say you! Why 'tis the only thing that recommended me to their Confidence. For pray, to compare Cases between us; you are Zealots and Partisans in a Conspiracy (forsooth) out of a principle of Right and Justice. But I am animated by a Sprightlier Fire▪ am for Mutiny and Mischief, right or wrong. You act by dictates of Conscience and Honour; but I have been slighted and disobliged by the present Government, and my Motives against it are Spite and Revenge. And Revenge never weighs nor disputes, when on the contrary, Honour may be tender and scrupulous: Besides, yours is but the Love, but mine the Lust of Rebellion: and Love may sometimes cool, when Lust always burns.  Sir Rog. 
In troth, Mr. Ferg—, this Argument savours a little too much of the Libertine. But you are a glorious Don John, and I am satisfied the worthy Gentlemen could not have made a nobler Choice, than such a Friend and Champion, as Mr. Ferg—.  Ferg. 
Nay Sir, since you touch me in that sensible part, I must tell you farther, That I am always the Almanzor of a Conspiracy. Almanzor-like, I know neither one side nor tother, any longer than I am pushing in it: But then like an Almanzor too, no Man bushes so heartily and so home as I do. And for distinctions of which King, or what King, in short, I run a muck at all Kings; and indeed at all Religions too: For, between Friends, My King, my Country, my Religion, my Heaven, are all centured in myself.  Sir Rog. 
Really Mr. Ferg—, you here give me so extraordinary; and withal so ingenious a Declaration, that I must acknowledge you a person truly worthy Admiration, though not altogether Imitation. For though you are an absolute Original, and that no mean one, Yet, I confess, 'tis such a one as I durst not Copy. My tenderer Morals are a little more nice and squeamish; however to give you your due renown; I heartily wish that all the Hands and Hearts, engaged in this Pious and honest Confederacy, had been all of your Nerve and Mould. For then, we might have hoped to have had an answerable success to the greatness of the undertaking, and Resolution of the Undertakers, and not to have had it thus poorly miscarry, by so many Sieves and Sponges, the Leaky false Brothers, whose Cowardly Revolts and Apostasy has so weakly and basely betrayed, it to our whole Causes utter Confusion and Ruin. For truly, Sir, though I myself cannot come up to your Heights, however I must do you this Right, to own you one of the most qualified Instruments, to embark in any such Religious and Righteous bold▪ Cause. For indeed, 'tis always my Maxim, That provided the Dagger be but Consecrated, no matter whether the hand be or no.  Ferg. 
There you say Right, Sir Roger; For we have Holy Writ on our side in that point. For do we not read that Cyrus the Great, tho' a Heathen and Infidel, is called the Servant of God: viz. For the great ends for which God had raised him. And with the same parity of Reason, our Grand Patron Lewis, is the most Christian Servant of Jesus, though the most Faithful sworn Brother of Mahomet.  Sir Rog. 
Nay, Mr. Ferg—, now you talk of such Great Men in their Age, as a Cyrus: and a Lewis. From their Great Examples, I think it but highly reasonable, and every ways honourable, that every Man that has the least glowing spark of Ambition in his Veins, should, and aught to signalise himself, by doing something that may make him Great and Famous in his Generation.  Ferg. 
Famous in his Generation! Is that all? Ay, Famous to Posterity. That was always my Principle: To be a Constantine, or an Erostratus, to Found Churches, or Destroy Churches; Raise States, or subvert them; to do something Great either one way or tother; (no matter which) to attempt any thing, and shrink at nothing, that may leave an Immortal Name behind me.  Sir Rog. 
Nay, Mr. Ferg—, there we differ▪ An Erostratus is a little too much. I declare I was never that hardy Bout●●eu neither. 'Tis true, now you talk of that Famous Incendiary, I confess, That fanning the Coals, or lighting the Train, to Fire or blow up a Conventicle has been my particular Masterpiece and Glory. I was ever a professed Nero at such a Conflagration, and Sung to my Fiddle, as heartily, as that Illustious Roman to his Harp, at such a Bonfire. But as to the Church of England, I was ever so wholly in her Interests (as our dea● departed has it) so very tender there, till her Protection and preservation was ever so near and dear to me, that I avow myself her professed Knight Errand, her Dimock, her Champion▪ etc. And now to tell you the very top of my Ambition, and height of all my hopes, and indeed the only great thing that I designed should immortallize my Name, was one glorious Projection that I had form for the Church of England's service. Oh! 'twas the only grand 〈…〉 my fifty years▪ Bellows had been blowing for. My whole Great Birth, my M●nerv●, my—  Ferg. 
And pray, What was this glorious Projection?  Sir Rog. 
You may remember, how, at the first Protestant Wane and Dawn of Popery, in my Observators, I projected an Accommodation—  Ferg. 
Between both Churches.  Sir Rog. 
Right Sir, an amicable Reconciliation between the old Roman Mother, and the Young▪ English Virgin Church: For mark you me Sir, to carry on this great work, having ●t that time a wonderful Influence over● the Clergy.  Ferg. 
Influence! Ay, Sir Roger, thou wert whole and sole Lord of their Ascendant: An Absolute Pontifex Maximus amongst 'em; He the Servus Servorum, and thou the Guide of Guides. But pray go on.  Sir Roger. 
Then, what with that Ascendance, and my own dint of Eloquence, I had projected, as I told you, such an Accommodation, such an Eternal Foundation of Peace, such Pillars of an Irenicum, that had not the obstinacy of the Times obstructed so glorious a Pile, I had built a Tower that should have reached Heaven, without the danger of one Tongue of Confusion: Brought the Lamb and the Lion to couch together▪ so lovingly and harmlessly, that instead of a M●●●lin at one end of the Town, and a 〈…〉- Church at another, we had saved all that trouble; so ●rusht, so qualified, so composed all Jars, till even from a Paul's to a Pa●●r●ss, from the highest to the lowest, one Roof should have held Both, as perfectly reconciled, as a Dancing-School and a Meetinghouse: Nay, with all that sisterly Love, even to the quietness and innocence of a Switzerland Congregation; not one Church amongst us but should have had Mass in the Morning, and Common Prayer in the Afternoon.  Ferg. 
Nay, this Design was great indeed.  Sir Roger. 
Great! Ay, What could be greater, especially on the Church of England's side? For what could have aggrandized the Church of England more, than her generous Hospitality▪ in Adopting, Naturalising and Incorporating so considerable an Addition to her Strength, Wealth and Fortunes. Whilst like one Empire, but two Czars, our Church by this Hand-in-hand Reign, had arrived to the height even of an Absolute Muscovite Monarchy.  Ferg. 
Upon my Veracity▪ Sir Roger, I never heard of a Design more Heroic.  Sir Rog. 
Ay, Mr. Ferg. had my Good Fortune been but answerable to my Good Parts, without Vanity let me tell you, I and my Politics, had set up my Royal Pupil James, (pardon my boldness) a second Great Alexander, and myself the Great Aristotle.  Ferg. 
Ay, no doubt Sir Roger.  Sir Rog. 
Nay, to credit my Good Parts, I always acted upon a Good Principle. I was ever for steering by the Chart of a good Conscience; and though I have stood up so high for Royal Prerogative, so I always abhorred Invasion of Rights and Property; as the whole practice of my Life, even in my own most diminutive▪ Concerns and Converse with Mankind, sufficiently testify.  Ferg. 
So very tender Conscienced say you, in all your Concerns! Nay, there you must pardon me. For I have heard a kind of an Outcry amongst some Authors and Booksellers.  Sir Rog. 
That would pick a hole in my Scutcheon. Alas! poor snarlers. I know their Malice. Look you, Mr. Fer—, in my Reign of Imprimatur, when I was Sovereign controller of the Press, I have made bold sometime, with a little innocent Piracy, borrowed an Ear-ring or two from the Egyptian Vermin. For when a good Copy came to my hands, I refused it a Licence, and writ upon the subject myself: And all the Justice in the World▪ For was not my Commission Absolute▪ I the Lord of the Glebe▪ and consequently the first Fruits my own. If that be their feeble sting against me— Look you Sir, at this very time am I now translating the Volume of the Famous Jos●phus. 'Tis true, the Original Proprietor of that Divine History has looked upon the Copy as an Estate and Inheritance. Much good may do him, with his Right and Title ay▪ 〈…〉 ●●th a trinkum in Liege▪ such a fly dash of the ●●n▪ to do his Business for him, wh●●st by an old ●●ur of a little new English put upon it, I'll trip up his heels for't as fair and honestly, as the best fair Full in a Lincolns-Inn Rounds.  
I Here a Messenger to call Sir Rog. ever to the Marshalsea, broke off the Conference.   

London, Printed for E. Whitlock, near Stationers-Hall.