A DIALOGUE BETWEEN The Devil, the Pope AND THE CHANCELLOR.  Chancellor. 
HAil mighty Patrons and Masters! You that have been my hope from the beginning; the first Founders of my Villainy, and for whom I have Laboured all my Life; I say, once more, Hail, mighty Prince of Darkness! and you his Benefactor, go on and Prosper, for I have done my Best, my Dream—  De il 
My Son, my Son, my dearly beloved Son, the only hope of all the Infernal Crew; Why are you so Dejected and Cast down? Cheer up, see who's here; see me here, your Lord and Master, and lo, here your Ghostly Father, next and immediately under me; Supreme Head and Governor of the dark Dungeon and Stygian Lake.  Chan. 
My Lord! I Adore you, I Reverence you; I am wholly devoted to your Service; I give myself for ever.  Pope. 
Bravely done, thou Son of Perdition, thou art the only Heir of Destruction and under Favour; my Lord, Lucifer, I must tell you, this honest, dear, truehearted George, has done us and our Kingdom more Service, than all the Men in England; To innumerate all his Exploits, would be as endless, as to count the Stars: In the West of England, my Lord, he was not a little Active, he hanged the poor Souls up by the Dozen; if you had been but there to see it, it would have made you Burst with Laughing, to see how a Dozen or two of them hung together, showing of their Teeth, and making wry Months at one another: And then but the other day, he Perjured himself as handsomely as I could do myself, I believe; but he lost nothing by it, for he Married his Son to 20000 l. by the bargain; and who would not be Perjured twice twenty thou and times for that Money?  Devil. 
Nay, that's the truth on't, you speak like a good meaning Man, and a Man of Great Parts, I'll Promote you e'er long for this, you shall be my head Devil in ordinary, and little George shall be my Cupbearer.  Chan 
I am unworthy, my Lord, I am unworthy to Serve you, but I have a mind to no other Office but Treasurer.  Devil. 
By all my Infernal Power, and the dark Regions of Hell, thou art a cunning kind of a I cannot tell what, a great Wit, and damned Cunning.  Pope: 
Ay, by the Mass, my Lord, if you should but see him upon the Bench, with two Grave Counsellors Pleading before him, it would make you admire, to see how he runs down him that has not greased his Fist, with a Sirrah, you are a Rogue, a Cheat, I'll deal well enough with you, 〈◊〉 ●e you know Sirrah, etc.  Devil. 
Admirable well done! I own him for my dear Son and Servant for ever.  Chan. 
And thus upon his bended Knees, your humble and obedient Servant, devotes himself wholly to be your Slave to all Eternity.  Devil. 
In what prithee?  Chan. 
In every thing that your Infernal Majesty in your Profound Wisdom and Goodness, shall think fit.  Devil. 
Very well; I'll do thus much for you likewise, viz. Command my Chief Secretary of State; his Holiness, to send out Writs of Excommunication against all the Peers of England, to set thee at Liberty, my Lad, if it be possible.  Pope. 
I am all joy, I am all gladness, my Heart is just jumping out of my Mouth, I cannot contain, I Melt, O I Faint, I Die, I joy to express! Who would not serve so Gracious a Prince as Lucifer? Well I'll disbursed one hundred thousand Pounds more, to buy Wood to Burn Heretics, that if it be possible, Hell may be full.  Chan. 
I Kiss your Holiness' little Toe Nail, and return you all immaginable Gratitude for so great a Favour.  Devil. 
I know not how I shall gratify you, for your extraordinary care of my Kingdom, and Affairs of greatest Importance; certainly you were predestinated from the Beginning, to be a partaker of the Crumbs of my Infernal Table; go on therefore, ye Sons of Perdition, go on and prosper in your Work already begun, if you live in my Fear, you need not doubt but you shall die in my Favour; and upon the word of Devil, I'll be kind to you; if I am not, never believe a Devil again for my sake.  Pope. 
No, my Lord, that would be a very great Affront to your Lordship, to doubt of the Sincerity of your intentions, we have always found you Faithful hitherto, indeed my Opinion is, you are like me, viz. you cannot Err.  Devil. 
As for that, I leave it to be determined Secu●dum artem; by a Convocation of Jesuits. But prith● honest George, why art so Melancholy?  Chan. 
O my Dream, my Dream ●●s in my Head! Dream of nothing but Halters and Hatchers; and met hi● I continually see a Gallows before my Face, or a Scaffo● or some such Place; nay, one Night I was in a prefo● Sleep, and methoughts I saw myself brought before the P●●liament Accused of High Misdemeanours, and Condem● Then methoughts I was had upon a Scaffold, with a F●ter about my Neck, (though not to be Hanged in it, but only Disgrace) where methoughts I saw an innumerable ●pany of the Mobile, with great Shouts, insulting over me in my own Terms, crying, Away with him, Hang him, we know him of old, he is a great, R—. Then methoughts after a cold Prayer or two, I laid my Neck down upon the Block, and just as the Hangman was taking his first Blow, I awaked, and was in such a Heat, that you might have greased a dozen pair of Jack-Boots with the Sweat that came from my Armholes; and glad I was that it was a Dream, but I fear I shall yet find it True.  Devil. 
This is only a Dream, and your Fancy works with the apprehensions of a fatal Blow.  Chan. 
But I could wish to be a little farther off of these Dutch Scoundrels, for suppose my Dream should prove true, what must I do then?  Pope. 
Why I'll Absolve you, do you see, and fear not.  Devil. 
And I ll send my Ferry man Charon to bring him over Safe, do you mind me? And for joy we will keep Holy day all over Hell; the Doors shall be shut, and no Entrance given to any that day; and the Night we'll spend in Revelling and Dancing; we'll have a Play Acted by all the Infernal Fiends and it shall be called Jeffry's the Great, or the Baron of Wem, a Comi-Tragedy.  Chan. 
Your Excellency is very Merrily disposed, but I have no Stomach to Die, I can't find in my Heart to be so Barbarous to myself, if I can help it.  Pope. 
Let me tell you one thing, which will help you if any thing will, viz. Against you come to your Trial, I'll furnish you with a good stock of Equivocations and Mental Reservations, which if you use as you ought, may do much in your Case: I can Pardon all.  Chan. 
That I do not doubt, but if they should fail, then poor Pill-garlick must lie at the Hangman's mercy; my Dream, my Dream, a Pox on't, my Dream runs in my Head: O poor George! thou art in a pitiful State, and must, I fear, e'er long, make thy Exit, but God knows whither.  Devil. 
Prithee my Son, be Patient, now I remember myself, the French King (thy Cousin German, though I think, has deserved better things from my Hands than you have) intends a speedy Destruction of the Heretics in England, and Damn him, if he makes haste, he may come time enough to save thy Trial and Life both, and then my Lad!  Chan. 
I adad, that would be brave sport, to see a vast Catholic Army Burn the Country before them, and to see George I— ies Exalted from Lord High Chancellor of England, to Duke of all Towns; nay, perhaps King of Ireland, who knows what may fall? Though now I am a Prisoner in the Tower, I may come to be the Devil and all of a Governor, or some such thing, if this French King does but come,— this puts new Life into me,— be Merry George, be Merry, I say Cheer up, see what thou art like to come to; there is but too Being's, one of which I must of Necessity have, viz. either be at the mercy of the Hang man, or else a Governor in Pomp, the last of which I the rather choose, for certain Reasons and Considerations me thereto moving; therefore, Know all Men by these Presents, That I do from henceforth Renounce all desire of Death, either Per Force or Naturally; professing that I intent to Live as long as I can; and that not after on Ordinary manner, but according as I used to do; which upon my Conscience, I intent to perform, to the utmost of my power.  Devil. 
It is enough (dear Georgy) I have my Heart's desire, I always said thou were't an apt Scholar, and would make a man after my Hearts desire; but prithee let me ask thee one Question, (which shall be a merry one, for I see you are a little Merrily disposed) there is a certain Question in Law to be resolved, concerning a Female Person.  Pope. 
They are People which I have a natural kindness for.  Devil. 
And she was fully Seized of a certain parcel of Ground in Fee-Tayl, to her and her Heirs Female for ever, commonly called and known by the Name of Hairy-Acre Butting and Bounding near Hiphill on the North-side of A— s Alley, with a certain Fishpond belonging to the same, she being in peaceable Possession of the same for eighteen years and upwards; a certain young Man comes, and by Force, enters her Premises; she knowing by the Laws of the Land, he ought not so to do, ejects him, and throws him out of Possession: He afterwards recovering again, with three more of his Servants, enters her Premises again; she thinking to Indict him upon a Riot, by a Statute made in the Reign of King Henry the VIII. but could not make it out, because one only entered, and the other two stood at the Door: Now, he being in peaceable Possession of the aforesaid Premises, and she having caught his principal Evidence into her Tail-Deed, Burned it; now he being remidiless at the Common-Law, pray what Relief can he have in Chancery?  Chan. 
Your Excellency is in a very merry humour; certainly they that are in Hell, and Subjects to such a King, cannot but be very happy: I suppose you allow Liberty of Conscience, etc.  Pope. 
Ay, Ay, without doubt he allows that, or else he would not have so many Subjects as he hath, you know you have had it all along, sometimes you have served him one way, and sometimes another; as by Swearing, Lying, Hypocrisy, Treachery to your Country, Perjury, Oppression, etc. Then why should you doubt of his Clemency to his Infernal Subjects?  Chan. 
Nay, as I am an honest Man, I was to blame, but I beg his Pardon, and hope—  Devil. 
Hope! Nay, you may Swear that I'll Pardon thee my little Nicky Nacky; What Devil in Hell could find in his Heart to be angry with thee? My dear Son, come hither, let me Embrace thee, the hope of my old Age,—  Pope. 
Lau you there now, is not this Devil something like a Devil now? see how he loves you! Nay, dotes on you! What can an Indulgent Father do more?  Chan. 
I am unworthy to be called his Son—  Pope. 
Well now Lord Lucifer, What think you of him, is he worthy to be Lord Treasurer under the Prince of the dark Regions?  Devil. 
I accept him, and think him worthy of the Reward I intent finally to bestow upon him.  Chan. 
I must confess that I have been a great, etc. and have been very Serviceable to your Excellency in many things, and would have been in many more, had it been in my Power; but I am too Good still to be called, etc. I am,— I was,— I have been,— I had been, if things had fell out handsomely— I shall be hereafter,— but what I know not, etc.  Pope. 
Well cheer up, 'tis time for us to go home; and we'll go by the way of France, and animate him as much as we can against these Heretics in England; and if he does but come time enough!— We can be there in half an Hour, for here's Paccolet's Horse at the Door, therefore Adieu, sweet, sweet George, Adieu.  Devil. 
My Son, Farewell, with such Felicity as I desire; I'll send to you, though, e'er long, therefore Weep not my Son.  Chan. 
Adieu to you both, I fear I shall see you no more in this World; therefore once more Adieu and be Damned; a Compliment Courtier like.   

PRINTED in the Year 1689.