PART III.

_The third and last Letter from Seignior_ GIUSIPPE HANESIO,

_High-German Doctor and Astrologer in_ Brandinopolis, _to his

Friends at_ WILL_’s Coffee-House in_ Covent-Garden.

_By Mr._ THO. BROWN.

_Gentlemen_,

I was forc’d to break off my last abruptly, by reason of the vast crowds

of people, which press’d upon me then for advice, so that I could not

present you with a full catalogue of my cures, which you will find at

the conclusion of this, or acquaint you with what transactions of moment

have lately happen’d in our gloomy regions. But having by miracle a

vacant hour or two at present upon my hands, which, by the by, is a

blessing I am seldom troubled with, I was resolv’d not to neglect so

fair a opportunity of paying my respects to you, and therefore without

any more preface or formality, will continue the thread of my narration.

I had no sooner publish’d my bill and catalogue of cures, but my house

has been crouded ever since with prodigious shoals of patients, that I

can hardly afford myself an hour to pass with my friends: they flock

from all corners of this gigantic city, so that sometimes not only my

court-yard which is very large and spacious, but even my chamber, my

anti-chamber, and if you’ll allow me, gentlemen, to coin a new word, my

pro-anti-chamber, or my hall, is full of them: I will only tell you the

names of a few customers of quality that resorted to me for advice

yesterday morning: to give you an idea of my business, and how

considerable ’tis like to prove.

About a month after my setting up, who should rap at my door, but the

famous _Semiramis_? I remembered her royal phiz perfectly well, ever

since my friend _Nokes_ carried me to her coffee-house, and treated me

there with a glass of _Geneva_; however, for certain reasons of state I

did not think it proper to let her _Babylonian_ majesty know, that I was

acquainted either with her name or quality; come good woman, said I to

her, what is your business? _Oh!_ replies she, _you see the most

unfortunate, unhappy creature in the world_. Why what calamity has

befallen you? _Only_, says she, _too big for words to express_; with

that she wrung her hands, stamp’d upon the floor, cursing the

left-handed planet she was born under, and pouring down such a deluge of

tears, that one would have thought it had been the second edition of the

_Ephesian_ matron, lamenting the loss of one spouse in order to wheedle

on a second. When her grief had pretty well exhausted itself at the

sluices of her eyes, she thus continu’d her tragical _historietto_.

_Were I minded, doctor, to trouble you with my genealogy, I could

perhaps, make it easily appear, that few people are descended of better

parents than myself, but let that pass; the scene is alter’d with me at

present, and rather than take up with ill courses, or to be troublesom

to my relations, I am content to keep a coffee-house. Now as I was

sitting in my bar this morning, and footing a pair of stockings for_

Alexander _the_ great, _in came two rascally grenadiers, and ask’d for

some juniper; but alas! while I was gone down into the cellar to fetch

it, these lubberly rogues plunder’d me of a silver spoon and

nutmeg-grater, and made their escape_. Come mistress, says I, this loss

is not so great but a little diligence may retrieve it. _Oh never_, says

she again, _unless you help me by your art, I am utterly undone to all

intents and purposes_. Finding her so much mortify’d for the loss of her

two utensils, I resolv’d to exert the fortune-teller to her, and banter

her in the laudable terms of astrology; so putting on a very compos’d

countenance, I seem’d very seriously to consult a celestial globe that

stood before me; then enquiring the precise time when this horrid theft

was committed, I drew several odd figures and strokes upon a piece of

paper, and at last the oracle thus open’d: _Mistress, it appears I find

by the_ Heliocentric _position of the planets, that_ Jupiter, _you

understand me, is become stationary to retrogradation in_ Cancer, _and

consequently, you observe me, mistress, equivocal to him; but how and

why in_ Trine _to_ Mercury _in_ Scorpio, _both posited in watry signs,

and at the same time_ Mars _being ascendant of the second house, as you

may perceive, ’tis as plain that the culminating aspect of_ Saturn_’s_

Satellites, _do ye mind me, centres full in the foresaid configuration.

So then mistress, the hoary question thus resolves itself_, viz. _That

your goods were carry’d away_ South-East _by_ East _of your house, under

the sign of a four-footed creature, and if you’ll leave open your

parlour windows a-nights, I dare pawn my life and honour, that both your

silver spoon and nutmeg-grater will be flung into the house one of the

nights_. _Semiramis_ was wonderfully pleas’d to hear such news, dropt me

a fee, and went about her business.

She was hardly gone, but in came queen _Dido_, who the last time I saw

her call’d _Virgil_ so many rogues and rascals in my hearing, for

raising such a malicious story of her and and the pious _Æneas_; it was

a long time before I could get her to tell me what errand she came

about: at last, after abundance of blushing, and covering half her face

with her hood, _Seignior_ Hanesio, says she, _I doubt not but a person

of your experience has observ’d in his time but too many instances of

female infirmity. To be plain with you, I am one, and tho’ I made as

great a splutter about my virtue as the soundest of my sex, yet I was a

damn’d recreant all that while. In short, I find by several indications

which I have not nam’d to you, doctor, that I am with child,--and being

very tender of my reputation,--which, doctor, is all we poor women have

to depend upon,---- and loth to have my good name expos’d in ballads and

lampoons.---- I beg the favour of you, dear doctor,---- and you shall

find I will gratify you nobly for your pains, to help me to something

that shall make me,---- but you know my meaning, doctor.---- To miscarry

is it not, Madam? You are in the right on’t, dear Sir, reply’d she. Why

then, Madam, I must tell you, are come to the wrong house; for whether

you know it or no, I carry a tender conscience about me, mind me what I

say, I carry a tender conscience about me, and would not be guilty of

such a wicked thing as you mention for the world. But there is an_

Italian _son of a whore at the corner of the street, that will poison

you and the child in your belly, and half the women in the city for half

a crown. You may make your application to him, if you think fit, but for

my part, Madam, I’ll be perjur’d for no body; for as I told you before,

my conscience is tender_: Upon this our famous _coquette_ immediately

withdrew in a great deal of confusion, and curs’d me plentifully in her

gizzard, I don’t question.

My next visitant was _Lucretia_, who brought some of her water in an

_urinal_, and desir’d me to give her my judgment on’t. Finding her

ladyship look a little blueish, and so forth, under the eyes; what was

more, having been privately inform’d of the correspondence she kept with

_Æsop_ the _fabulist_; _Madam_, says I bluntly to her, _the party to

whom this urine belongs, is under none of the most healthful

circumstances, but troubled with certain prickings and pains. I’ll

swear, doctor_, says she, _you are a man of skill, for to my certain

knowledge the party is troubled with those concerns you were talking of.

You need not forestal me, Madam_, says I to her, _but especially when

she makes water; I knew it as soon as ever I cast my eyes upon the

urinal: and pray, Sir, what may be the occasion of it? for the party is

at a horrid loss, what is the matter with her. Why, Madam_, says I, _the

matter is plain enough, the party has been committing acts of privity

with somebody, and has disoblig’d love’s mansion by it: or to express

myself in the familiar language of a modern versificator and quack_;

_Has been dabbling in private, and had the mishap,_

_In seeking for pleasure to meet with a clap._

_How doctor, says she, have you the impudence to say the party is

clapt?_ verily, Madam, and yet I am no more impudent than some of my

neighbours. _Why you saucy fellow you_, continues she, _I’d have you to

know that I am the party to whome the urine belongs, and my name is_

Lucretia, _that celebrated matron in_ Roman _history, who scorning to

out-live her honour, perferr’d a voluntary death to an ignominious life.

Yes, Madam_, says I, _I know your history well enough, and whatever

opinion I may have of your chastity, I have yet a greater of your

discretion; for, between friends be it said, Madam, before you left the

insignificant world, you were resolv’d to taste the sweetness of young_

Tarquin_’s person; and finding what a vast difference there was between

vigorous love and phlegmatick duty, you thought it not worth your while

to be troubled any longer with the dull embraces of an impotent husband.

Oh most abominable scandal_, cries our matron, _but Heaven be prais’d_

Livy _tells another story of my chastity; and to let thee see how

scrupulous and careful I am to preserve my reputation spotless, know, I

keep company with none but moralists and philosophers. Lord, Madam_,

says I, _your intrigues are no mysteries to me: I am no stranger to that

laudable commerce you keep with that crook-back’d moralist and

fable-monger of_ Phrygia, _they call him my lord; Æsop_ (at which

unwelcome words she look’d paler than I have the charity to believe she

did when the impetuous _Tarquin_ leapt into bed to her) _and as for

those sage recommenders of virtue, the philosophers, take my word for

it, a clap may be got as soon among them, as any other sort of men

whatsoever. Since my coming into these parts, Madam, I am able to give

you a true account of the present state of most of these_ Philosophers’

_bodies_. Thales, _who held that_ Water _was the beginning of all

things, is now satisfy’d that_ Fire _is the conclusion of love_.

Pythagoras _that run thro’ so many changes in the other world, has

undergone a greater transmutation here in a sweating tub. The divine_

Plato, _and his disciple_ Aristotle, _are at this present writing very

lovingly salivating in my garret_. Socrates _had his shin-bones scrap’d

t’other morning by my toad-eater Dr._ Connor, _by the same token the_

Hibernian _thrash’d him for swearing so inordinately at his_ dæmon _that

led him into this mischance_. Aristotle _told me last night, that

nothing in philosophy troubled him so much as pissing of needles_.

Diogenes _has a phiz so merrily collyflower’d, that he protests against

planting of men, since these are the effects of it; and the virtuous_

Seneca _has lost all his_ Roman _patience with his nose. But alas, these

solemn splaymouth’d gentlemen, Madam_, says I, _only do it to improve in

natural philosophy, with no wicked intentions, I can assure you, no

carnal titillation to urge them on, or the like. Well, says she, since

’tis in vain to play the hypocrite any longer, I own myself a downright

frail woman, therefore resolve me what is best to be done for my

recovery? Look you, Madam_, says I, _you must take physick, and live

sober for a fortnight or so, and I’ll engage to make you as primitively

sound as when you first came squaling into the world. Here’s a dose of

pills the devil of any_ Mercury_’s in them; take four of them every

morning, and to make them operate the better, drink me a quart of

honest_ Phlegethon _a little warm’d over the fire, and mix some grated

nutmeg with it to correct the crudity_. She promis’d to observe my

directions, presented me with half a score broad pieces, and as she was

going out of the room, _Worthy doctor_, says she, _I conjure you to have

a care of my dear dear reputation: And_, Madam, answers I, _pray have

you likewise a care of your dear dear brandy bottle, and your beloved

Dr._ Steven_’s water with the gold in it_; and so we parted.

I was thinking with myself, surely it rains nothing but female visitants

this morning, when a brace of two handed strapping jades bolted into my

closet, and upon a due examination of their faces, I found one of them

to be _Thalestris_ the _Amazonian_, who, as I hinted to you in my last,

is become an haberdasheress of small wares; and the other that termagant

motly composition of half man half woman, _Christiana_ the late queen of

_Sweden_. So my two chopping _Bona Roba’s_, says I to ’em and what

business has brought you hither? _Why you must know, cries_ Thalestris,

_that both of us are furiously in love and want a little of your

assistance_.

The ladies may be always sure of commanding that, answers I, but pray

explain yourselves more particularly. _For my part, says_ Thalestris,

_having formerly been happy in the embraces of_ Alexander _the great, I

could never fancy anything but a soldier ever since. Why our military

men_, says I, _have been always famous for attacking and carrying all

places before them, but pray tell me the happy person’s name, whom you

have singled from the rest of his sex to honour with your affection?

With the malicious world_, continues she, _he passes for a bully, but I

call him my lovely charming Capt._ Dawson; _’tis true, I am not

altogether disagreeable to this cruel insensible; he likes the majesty

of my person, my humour and wit well enough; but t’other morning he

told me, over a porringer of burnt brandy, when people are apt to

unbosom themselves, that he had an unconquerable aversion to red hair,

and so I am come to see whether you have any relief for this misfortune,

as you promise in your bills. This is no business of mine_, says I to

her, _but my wife’s who’ll soon redress your grievances, and furnish you

with a leaden comb and my_ Anti-Erythræan _unguent, which after two or

three applications will make you as fair or as brown as you desire_. And

having said so, address’d myself to her companion, and enquir’d of her

what she came for? _I am up to the ears in love, says_ Christiana, _with

a jolly smock-fac’d duchess’s chaplain lately arriv’d in these parts; I

have already signify’d my passion to him, both after the antient and

modern way, persecuted him with_ Latin _and_ French billet-deux, _for

which I was always famous: but this stubborn_ Theologue _tells me my

face is too masculine for him, and particularly quarrels with the

irregularity of my forehead and eyebrows. Those will easily be

recftify’d by my wife_, says I: _and now, Madam, will you give me leave

to ask you a civil question or two?_ a hundred, my dear _seignior_,

answers she very obligingly. _To be short then_, says I, _a certain_

French _author, who has writ the memoirs of your life, has been pleas’d

positively to assert, that your majesty went thro’ at least one half of

the college of cardinals, and that two or three popes were suspected of

being familiar with you. I wanted_, answers she, _no sort of consolation

from those noble personages, while I liv’d at_ Rome; _and to convince

you how well I am satisfied in their abilities, by my good will, I would

have to do with none but ecclesiasticks; for besides that they eat and

drink plentifully, and by consequence want no vigour, they possess

another no less commendable quality, and that is taciturnity. I applaud

your judgment_, replies I, _for your churchmen are true feeders and

thundering performers. No body knows that better than myself_, says

Christiana, _and take my word for it, one robust well-chined priest is

worth a hundred of your lean half starv’d captains. I’ll never hear the

soldiery blasphem’d, says_ Thalestris, _in a mighty passion, I tell

thee, thou insignificant north country trollop, thou foolish affected

grammarian-ridden she-pedant, that one soldier is better than a thousand

of your stiff-rump’d parsons_; and immediately saluted her with a

discourteous reprimand a cross the mazzard. The blood of _Gustavus

Adolphus_ began to be rous’d in _Christiana_, and my glasses, globes,

and crocodile and all, were infallibly going to rack between these two

furious heroines, when my wife luckily stept in to put an end to the

fray. In short the matter was amicable made up, and so they follow’d my

spouse into her closet, where I’ll leave them.

Thus, _gentlemen_, you may perceive what sort of customers resort to me,

I could tell you a hundred more stories to the same purpose, but why

should I pretend to entertain persons of your worth with so mean and

unworthy a subject as my self? therefore to diversify the scene, I will

endeavour to divert you with some occurences of a more publick

importance, which have happen’d in our _Acherontic_ dominions since I

writ to you last.

But before I proceed any farther I am to inform you, that we have a

spacious noble room in the middle of _Brandinopolis_, where the

virtuosos of former ages as well as of the present, use to resort and

entertain one another with learned or facetious conversation, according

as it happens. Of late we have had the same controversy debated among

us, which so long employ’d monsieur _Perault_ and the famous wits of

_France_, I mean, whether the antients are preferable to the moderns in

the learned arts and sciences. The question had been discuss’d one

afternoon with a great deal of heat on both sides, when an honest merry

gentleman and a new comer among us, whose name I have unluckily forgot,

interpos’d in the dispute, and express’d himself to this effect.

Gentlemen, says he, I think you may e’en drop this controversy, for I

can make it appear, that little _England_ alone affords a set of men at

present, that much out-do any of the antients in whatever they pretend

to. There’s honest Mr. _Edmund Whiteaker_, late of the admiralty office,

that in the mystery of making up accounts out-does _Archimedes_; and my

lord _Puzzlechalk_, who told his master’s money over a gridiron,

understands numbers better than _Archytas_ or _Euclid_. Mr. _Burgess_ of

_Covent-Garden_, and indeed most of the _dissenting parsons_, go

infinitely beyond _Tully_ and _Demosthenes_ in point of eloquence; for

those old fashion’d orators could only raise joy and sadness

successively, whereas the latter so manage matters, that they can make

their congregations laugh and weep both at once. The antients were

forc’d to drudge and take pains to make themselves masters of any tongue

before they pretended to write in it; but here’s _your old friend Dr._

Case _by Ludgate_, writ a system of anatomy in _Latin_, and does not

understand a syllable of the language. As for musick you may talk till

your heart akes of your _Amphions_ and your _Orpheus_’s, that drew trees

and stones after them by the irresistible force of their harmony; this

is so far from being a miracle among us, that the vilest thrummers in

_England_ and _Wales_ do it every wake and fair they go to: then as for

the various perturbations of mind caus’d by the antient musick, we saw

something more wonderful happen upon our own theatre since the late

revolution, than antiquity can boast of; for when _Harry Purcel_’s

famous winter song at the _Opera_ of king _Arthur_, was sung at the

play-house, half the gentlemen and ladies in the side boxes and pit got

an ague by it, tho’ it was sung in the midst of the dog-days. Lastly, to

conclude, for I am afraid I have trespass’d too much upon your patience,

we infinitely exceed the antients in quickening of parts: _Virgil_, one

of the topping wits of antiquity, was forc’d to retire out of the noise

and hurry of _Rome_ to his country _Villa_, and bestow’d some ten or

twelve years in composing his _Æneis_: whereas Sir _Richard Blackmore_,

who passes but for a sixth rate versifier among us, was able to write

both his _Arthurs_ in two or three years time, and that in the tumult

and smoak of Coffee-houses, or in his coach as he was jolting it from

one patient to another, amidst the vast multiplicity of his business

too, which as the city bard frankly confesses, was never greater than

then.

The gentleman delivered his ironies with so good a grace that he set all

the company a laughing, and for that time put an end to the dispute. And

now since I am upon the chapter of Sir _Richard_, you must know, that

the young wits, inhabiting upon the banks of _Phlegethon_, have lately

pelted his _Arthurs_ with distichs; but I can only call to mind at

present three of them. The two first reflect upon the poem’s genealogy,

which was partly begot in a coffee-house, and partly in a coach.

_Editus in_ plaustri _strepitu, fumoque_ tabernæ,

_Non aliter nasci debuit_ iste _liber_.

_Qui potuit matrem_ Arthuri _dixisse tabernam_

_e potest currum dicere_, Rufe, _patrem_.

_Sæpius in libro memoratur_ Garthius _uno,_

_Quam levis_ Arthuro Maurus _utroque tumens_.

I do not wonder now at prince _Arthur_’s wonderful loquacity, says

another, (for as I remember, when he and king _Hoel_ met upon the road,

he welcomes him with a simile of forty lines perpendicular) since he was

born at a coffee house; nor at the rumbling of the verse, since one half

of the book was written in a leathern vehicle; for we find, continues

he, that what is bred in the bone, will never out of the flesh; and

thus, ’tis no wonder, that according to the observation of a modern

virtuoso, the _Severn_ is so mischievous and cholerick a river, and so

often ruins the country with sudden inundations, since it rises in

_Wales_, and consequently participates sometimes of the nature of that

hasty, iracund people among whom ’tis born. However, cries surly _Ben_,

I must needs commend Sir _Richard_’s sagacity and politicks in taking

care that his muse should be so openly deliver’d; for Epic poems, like

the children of sovereign princes, ought to be born in publick.

The other day, as I was taking a solitary turn by myself, ’twas my

fortune to meet with a leash of old-fashion’d thread-bare mortals, with

very dejected looks, and in the best equipage of those worthy gentlemen,

whom you may see every day between the hours of twelve and one, walking

in the _Middle-Temple_ and _Grays-Inn_ walks, to get ’em a stomach to

their no-dinners. At first I took them for a parcel of fiddlers, when

the oldest of them undeceiv’d me, by addressing himself to me as

follows. Sir, says he, my name is _J. Hopkins_, my two companions are

the fam’d _Sternhold_ and _Wisdom_, and understanding that you are

lately arrived from _England_, I have presum’d to ask you a question: we

have been inform’d some time ago, that two _Hibernian_ bards, finding

fault with our version and language, have endeavour’d to depose myself

and my two brethren here out of all parish-churches, where we have

reign’d most melodiously so long, and to substitute their own

translation in the room of it; I must confess it vexes me to the heart

to think that I must be ejected after an hundred years quiet possession

and better, which, by the Common as well as Civil law, gives a man a

just title, and resign my ecclesiastical dominions to two new fangled

usurpers, whom I never injur’d in my days. Now, Sir, pray tell me how my

affairs go in your world, and whether I have reputation enough still

left me with the people, to make head against those unrighteous

innovators? Why truly, Mr. _Hopkins_, says I to him, when these

adversaries first appeared in the world, I was in some pain about you,

the conspiracy against your crown and dignity being so speciously laid,

that nothing less than an universal defection seem’d to threaten you.

’Tis true indeed, some few churches in and about _London_, where the

people you know are govern’d by a spirit of novelty, have thrown you

out, but by what advices I can receive, excepting some few revolters,

the generality of the people seem to be heartily engaged in your

interests, and as it always happens to other monarchs when they are able

to surmount an insurrection form’d against them, I look upon your

throne, since you have so happily broke the neck of this rebellion, to

be settled upon a surer basis than ever. The Parish-clerks, sextons, and

old women, all over the kingdom are in a particular manner devoted to

your service, preserving a most entire and unshaken allegiance to you,

and on my conscience would sooner part with all _magna charta_ than one

syllable of yours. You wonderfully revive my spirits, replies old

_Hopkins_, to tell me such comfortable news, but pray, Sir, one word

more with you; This new translation that has made such a noise in the

world, is it so much superior to mine, as my enemies here would make me

believe? Mr. _Hopkins_, says I, I flatter no man, ’tis not my way,

therefore you must not take amiss what I am going to say to you. For my

part I am of opinion, that king _David_ is not oblig’d to any of you,

but ought to cudgel you all round; for I can find no other difference

between the _Jewish_ monarch in his ancient collar of _ekes_ and _ayes_,

which you and your brethren there have bestow’d upon him, and in his

new-fashion’d _Irish_ dress, than there is between an old man of

threescore with a long beard hanging down to his waste, and the same

individual old man newly come out of a barber’s shop nicely shav’d and

powder’d. ’Tis true, he looks somewhat gayer and youth-fuller, but has

not a jot more vigour and ability.

I know you gentlemen of _Will_’s coffee-house, will be glad to hear some

news of Mr. _Dryden_, I must tell you then, that we had the devil all of

combustions and quarrels here in hell since that famous bard’s arrival

among us. The _Grecians_, the _Romans_, the _Italians_, the _Spaniards_,

the _French_, but especially the _Dutch_ authors, have been upon his

back; _Homer_ was the first that attack’d him for justifying

_Almanzor_’s idle rants and monstrous actions by the precedent of

_Achilles_. The two poets, after a little squabbling, were without much

difficulty perswaded to let their two heroes fight out the quarrel for

them, but the nimble-heel’d _Græcian_ soon got the whip-hand of the

furious _Almanzor_, and made him beg pardon. _Horace_ too grumbled a

little in his gizzard at him for affirming _Juvenal_ to be a better

satirist than himself; but upon second thoughts thought it not worth his

while to contest the point with him. Once it happen’d, that Mr. _Bays_

came into our room when _Petronius Arbiter_ was diverting us with a very

fine _nouvelle_. Mons. _Fontaine_, Sir _Philip Sidney_, Mr. _Waller_, my

late lord _Rochester_, with Sir _Charles Sidley_, compos’d part of this

illustrious audience; when Mr. _Dryden_ unluckily spoil’d all by asking

the latter, what the facetious gentleman’s name was, that talk’d so

agreeably? How, says Sir _Charles Sidley_, hadst thou the impudence, in

the preface before thy _English Juvenal_, to say, that so soon as the

pretended _Belgrade_ supplement of _Petronius_’s fragments came into

_England_, thou couldst tell upon reading but two lines of that edition,

whether it was genuine or no; and here hast thou heard the noble author

himself talk above an hour by the clock, and could not find him out?

Upon this the old bard retired in some disorder; but what happened to

him a day or two after was more mortifying.

_Chaucer_ meets him in one of our coffee-houses, and after the usual

ceremonies were over between two strangers of their wit and learning,

thus accosts him. Sir, cries _Chaucer_, you have done me a wonderful

honour to furbish up some of my old musty tales, and bestow modern

garniture upon them, and I look upon myself much obliged to you for so

undeserved a favour; however, Sir, I must take the freedom to tell you,

that you over-strain’d matters a little, when you liken’d me to _Ovid_,

as to our wit and manner of versification. Why, Sir, says Mr. _Dryden_,

I maintain it, and who then dares be so saucy as to oppose me? But under

favour, Sir, cries the other, I think I should know _Ovid_ pretty well,

having now convers’d with him almost three hundred years, and the

devil’s in it if I don’t know my own talent, and therefore tho’ you pass

a mighty compliment upon me in drawing this parallel between us, yet I

tell you there is no more resemblance between us, as to our manner of

writing, than there is between a jolly well-complexion’d _Englishman_

and a black-hair’d thin-gutted _Italian_. Lord, Sir, says _Dryden_ to

him, I tell you that you’re mistaken, and your two styles are as like

one another as two Exchequer tallies. But I, who should know it better,

says _Chaucer_, tell you the contrary. And I, say Mr. _Bays_, who know

these things better than you, and all the men in the world, will stand

by what I have affirm’d, and upon that gave him the lye. _Rhadamanthus_,

who is one of _Pluto_’s oldest judges and a severe regulator of good

manners and conversation, immediately sent for our friend _John_ to

appear in court; and after he had severely reprimanded him for using

such insufferable language upon no provocation; for your punishment,

says he, I command you to get Sir _Richard Blackmore_’s translation of

_Job_ by heart, and to repeat ten pages of it to our friend the author

of the _Rehearsal_ every morning. Poor _Bays_ desired his lordship to

mitigate so rash a sentence, and by way of commutation frankly offer’d

to drink so many quarts of liquid sulphur every morning. No, says my

lord judge, tho’ they commute penances in _Doctors-Commons_, yet we are

not such rogues to commute them in hell, and so I expect to be obey’d.

Thus _Gentlemen_, you see we observe a severe justice among us, and

indeed to deliver my thoughts impartially, I must needs say, that equity

is administer’d after a fairer and more compendious manner in these

dominions, than either in your _Westminster-Hall_, or your palace at

_Paris_, where _Astræa_ pretends to carry all before her, yet has as

little to do in either of those two places, as a farrier at _Venice_. A

signal instance of this we have had in a late famous tryal. A

foot-soldier of the first regiment of guards, and a _Drury-lane_ whore,

were summon’d to appear before judge _Minos_, who after he had, with a

great deal of patience, heard the crimes that were alledg’d against

them, asked them what they had to offer in favour of themselves, why

sentence of damnation should not pass? the young harlot, either replying

upon the merits of her face, which she foolishly imagin’d would bring

her off here, as it had often done in your world, or else being

naturally furnish’d with a greater stock of impudence than the soldier,

broke thro’ the crowd, and thus address’d herself to the court: I hope

your lordship, says she, will take no advantage of a poor woman’s

ignorance, who ought to have learned counsel to plead for her; however,

I depend so much upon the justice of my cause, that I will undertake it

my self. The chief argument I insist upon, my lord, is this: I think it

highly unreasonable that I should suffer a-new for my crimes in this

world, having done sufficient penance for them in the other. By my

aunt’s consent and privity, I was sold to an old libidinous lord, and

debauch’d by him before I was fourteen; the noble peer kept me some four

months; then took occasion to pick a quarrel with me, and set me a drift

in the wide world, to steer my course as fortune should direct me. In

this exigence I was forc’d to apply my self to a venerable old matron,

who finding me young and handsome, took me into her service, shamm’d me

upon her customers for a baronet’s daughter of the _North_, and much I

was made of, and courted like a little queen; but, my lord, our

profession is directly opposite to all others, for too much custom

breaks us. In short, an officer in the army, whom _Pluto_ rewarded for

his pains, taught me what _Fortune de la guerre_ meant, so that I was

very fairly salivated before fifteen. Having got a little knowledge of

the world under this old matron’s directions, who went more than halves

with me in every bargain, I thought it high time to trade for my self,

and told her one morning, that I was resolved to expose myself no longer

in her house. What you please as for that, replies this antient

gentlewoman, but first, my dear child, let us come to a fair account to

see how the land lies between us. Then stepping into the next room she

shew’d me a deal-board all be-scrawl’d with round o’s and cart-wheels in

ungodly chalk; then clapping on her spectacles, let me see, cries she,

for lodging, diet, washing, cloaths, linen, physick, _&c._ you owe me

ten pounds, (which came up within a few transitory shillings of what I

had earned in her house) and this you must pay, sweetheart, before you

talk of parting. ’Twas in vain to complain of her extortion, for besides

that she pleaded perscription for it, her arithmetick was infallible,

and she judg’d for her self _en dernier ressort_. Thus I was turn’d out

of doors, but having in the interim, while I stay’d here, contracted a

small acquaintance with a sister of the quill that lodg’d in

_Covent-Garden_, I repaired to her quarters, and continu’d with her.

Between us, my lord, we acted the story of _Castor_ and _Pollux_, that

is, we were never visible together, but when she appeared above the

horizon, ’twas bed-time with me; and when she kept her bed, ’twas my

time to shine at the play-house. When either of us went abroad, we made

a fine show enough, but then we gratify’d our backs at the expence of

our bellies; cow-heel, tripe, a few eggs, or sprats, were our constant

regale at home, and upon holidays a chop of mutton roasted upon a

packthread in the chimney; and many a time when my sister and I wore

silver-lac’d shoes our stockings wanted feet. I should trespass too much

upon your lordship’s patience, to tell you how I have been forc’d to

shift my name as well as my quarters, to submit to the nauseous embraces

of every drunken tobacco-taking sot, that had half a crown in his pocket

to purchase me; and when I have been arrested for a milk-score not

exceeding the terrible sum of four shillings, to let an ill-look’d dog

of a _Moabite_ enjoy me upon a founder’d chair in a spunging-house to

procure my liberty. To this I should add, what unmerciful contributions

I was forc’d out of my small revenue to pay to the conniving justices

clerks, the constable, the beadle, the tallyman, but especially to those

rascals the _Reformers_, whose business is not to convert, but only lay

a heavier tax upon poor sinners, and make iniquity shift its habitation

oftener than otherwise it would, I should never have done. In short, our

condition, my lord is like a frontier people that live between two

mighty monarchies, oppress’d, squeez’d, and plunder’d on all sides. By

that time I was one and twenty, I could number more diseases than years,

smoak and swear like a grenadier; and last _Bartholomew fair_, having

made a debauch in stumm’d claret and Dr. _Stevens_’s water, with an

attorney’s clerk, a fever seiz’d me next morning, and tript up my heels

in three days. How I was buried, that is to say, whether by the

contributions of the sister-hood or at the charge of the parish, I

cannot tell; but this, my lord, is a short and faithful account of my

life, and now I submit myself to the justice of this honourable court. I

will not pretend to vindicate my profession, but this I may venture to

affirm, that the world cannot live without us, and that a whore in the

business of love, is like farthings in the business of trade, which

(tho’ they are not the legal coin of the nation) ought to be allow’d and

tolerated, if it were only for the conveniency of ready change. Well,

says my lord, since ’tis so, and your calling expos’d you to so much

suffering, I hope you made your gallants pay for it? That you may be

sure I did, answers our damsel, I sold my maidenhead to fifteen several

customers, by the same token seven of them were _Jews_, and it pleases

me to think how I cheated those loggerheads in their own _Mosaical_

indications. I never parted with any of my favours, nay, not so much as

a clap _gratis_, except a lieutenant and ensign whom once I admitted

upon trust, by the same token they built a sconce, and left me in the

lurch. I always took care to secure my money first; tho’ those

ungracious vipers of the army would rifle me now and then in spite of

all my precaution: for my lord, we whores are like the sea, what we gain

in one place we lose in another. Take her away, says my lord _Minos_,

take her away, see her fairly dipt every morning for this twelvemonth

over head and ears in good wholesome brimstone: to be both merchant and

merchandize, to sell her self for money and yet expect pleasure for it,

is worse exaction than was ever practised in _Lombard-street_ or

_Cornhil_.

Our _Drury-lane_ nymph was no sooner carried off, but the soldier

advanced forward, and thus told his tale: My lord, you are not to expect

a fine speech from me, I am a soldier, and we soldiers are men of

action, and not of words. I was a barber’s prentice in the _strand_,

liv’d with him five years, got his maid with child, beat his wife for

pretending to reprove me, had run on score at all the painted lattices

in the neighbour-hood, and my circumstances being such, was easily

persuaded to turn gentleman-soldier. My captain promis’d to make me a

serjeant the very moment after I was listed, but he serv’d me just as he

did his creditors, whom, to my certain knowledge, he left in the lurch.

Well, my lord, I follow’d him to _Flanders_, where I stood buff to death

and damnation four campaigns, sometimes for a groat, sometimes for

nothing a-day. Had I more sins to answer for than either the colonel or

agent of our regiment, I have bustled thro’ misery enough to wipe out

all my scores, curtail’d of my pay to keep a double-chinn’d chaplain,

who never preach’d among us, and maintain an hospital, where I could

never expect to be admitted without bribery; forc’d for want of

subsistence to steal offal, which an hungry dog would piss upon, and if

discover’d sure to be rewarded with the wooden-horse, and lest the

unweildy beast shou’d throw me, secur’d by a brace of musquets dangling

on my heels; to lie up to the chin in water for preventing of

rheumatisms, and smoak wholesome dock-leaves to prevent being dunn’d by

my stomach; drubb’d and can’d without any provocation, by a smooth-fac’d

prig, who t’other day was a pimp, or something worse to a nobleman;

never sure of one hour’s rest in the night, never certain of a meal’s

meat in the day; harass’d with perpetual marches and counter marches;

roasted all the summer, and frozen all the winter; cheated by my

officer, cuckolded by my comrades. These, my lord, were the blessings of

my life, and if ever I could muster up pence enough to purchase a single

pint of _Geneva_, I thought myself in my kingdom. Last summer I was one

of the noble adventurers that went in the expedition to _Cadiz_, and

having secur’d a little linen to myself at _Fort St. Mary_’s in order to

make me a few shirts when I came home, and rubb’d off with two

insignificant silver puppets (I think they call them saints) out of a

church, the superior commander seiz’d upon them for his own private use,

in her majesty’s name, and legally plunder’d me of what I had as legally

stolen from the enemy. This and a thousand other disappointments,

together with change of climates and other inconveniences, threw such a

damp upon my spirits, that within three days after I landed at

_Portsmouth_, I fell ill, and was glad to part with a wretched life,

which had given me so much vexation and so little satisfaction. Thus my

lord, I have honestly laid all before you, so let the court sentence me

as they please. Why really, says the judge, thy case is hard enough, and

I must needs say thou dost not want any new weight to be laid upon thee;

and so immediately acquitted him, ordering him to be set at liberty

without paying of fees.

Finding justice impartially administered in _Hell_, you may perhaps have

the curiosity, gentlemen, to enquire what sort of reception my lord

_Double_ of _Turn-about-hall_ found among us upon his arrival into these

dominions. I must tell you then, that to the universal admiration of our

infernal world, my lord is become _Pluto_’s great favourite, so that

nothing almost is transacted here without his advice and direction.

Every body indeed expected, that his lordship who changed his religion

on purpose to delude the unhappy prince, whose prime confident he was,

and at the same time kept a private correspondence with his enemy in

_Holland_, would have found an entertainment suitable to his deserts,

been loaded with chains, and regaled with liquid sulphur; but hitherto

he has either had the good luck, or management, to avoid it. A sudden

gust of wind had blown away the fan from the top of _Pluto_’s kitchin,

that very afternoon he came here. Our monarch was first in the mind to

clap his lordship’s breech upon the iron-spike, and make a weathercock

of him (the only thing he was fit for) that with every whiff of

brimstone he might tell where damnation sate. Soon after he was of

opinion to make a light-match of him to use upon occasion, whenever he

had any empire or kingdom to blow up. But at last carefully considering

his face, and the majesty of his gate, he made him his taylor, and to

say the truth, nobody knows the dimensions of his _Luciferian_ majesty

better than his lordship: and as it often happens in your world for

noblemen to be govern’d by their taylors or peruke-makers, so my lord in

his present capacity of taylor orders every thing at court, puts in and

displaces whom he pleases, and possesses _Pluto_’s ear to that degree,

that happening to be in company last week with _Aaron Smith_, Col.

_Wildman_, _Slingsby Bethel_, _C--rn--sh_, and others of the same

kidney, who heartily wish the prosperity of old _Hell_, they gravely

shook their heads, and said they were afraid their master _Pluto_’s

government would not long continue, since he had got a viper in his

bosom, and a traytor in his cabinet, who would not fail to conjure up

some neighbouring prince against him to dispossess him of his antient

throne. Indeed ’tis prodigious to consider how this dissembler has

wriggled himself into the good opinion not only of our sovereign, but

even of queen _Proserpine_. About a month ago he had interest enough to

get my late lord _Sh--ft--ry_, released out of the dungeon, where he has

been confined ever since his coming here, and made him administrator of

the _Clyster-Pipe_ to _Pluto_, for this merry reason, because he had

always a good hand at _striking at fundamentals_. That old libidinous

civilian of the _Commons_, Dr. _Littleton_, he has made judge admiral of

the _Stygian_ lake, and the famous Mr. _Alsop_, who wished in his

address to king _James_, that the dissenters had casements to their

breasts, he has got to be the devil’s glazier; nay, what will more

surprize you, he has procur’d the reversion of master of _Pluto_’s rough

game, when it falls, for Dr. _Oates_; and obtain’d a promise of

candle-snuffer-general to all the gaming-houses in these quarters, for

honest _George Porter_ the evidence.

_The Remainder of my Catalogue of_ CURES.

_Timothy Addlepate_, of _Cheapside_, _Milliner_, was so wonderfully

afflicted with the _Zelotypia Italica_, that he constantly lock’d up his

simpering red-hair’d spouse, when business call’d him abroad, and would

hardly trust her with her aunt or grandmother. By rectifying his

constitution with my true _Covent-Garden_ ELIXIR, he is so intirely

cured of the _Icterus Martialis_, or his old _yellow distemper_ that now

of his own accord he carries her to the play-house, sends her to all the

balls, masquerades, and merry meetings in town; nay, trusts her alone at

_Epsom-Wells_ and _Richmond_, and will let her sit a whole afternoon

with a gay smooth-fac’d officer of the guards at the tavern, and is

never disturbed at it.

_Jethro Lumm_, at the sign of the _Blue-ball_ and _Spotted-horse_,

between a _Cheesemonger_’s and _Perfumer_’s shops in

_Ratcliff-high-way_, by taking a few doses of my _Pulvis Vermifugus_, or

my _Antiverminous Powder_, voided above 30000 worms of all sorts, as

your _Ascarides_, _Teretes_, _Hirudines_, and so forth, in the space of

12 hours, one of which, by modest computation, was supposed long enough

to reach from St. _Leonard’s Shoreditch_, to _Tottenham high cross_. I

confess my medicine is a little bitter; but what says the learned

_Arabian_ philosopher _Hamet Ben Hamet Ben Haddu Albumazar_, A diadem

will not cure the _Apoplexy_, nor a velvet slipper the _Gout_: And are

not all the Antients as well as Neotorics agreed, that _raro corpus sine

vermibus_. Therefore, my good friends, be advis’d in time.

_Ezekiel Driver_ of _Puddle-dock_, Carman, having disordered his _Pia

mater_ with too plentiful a morning’s draught of _three-threads_ and

_old Pharaoh_, had the misfortune to have his car run over him. The

whole street concluded him as good as dead, and the over-forward clerk

of the parish had already set him down in the weekly-bills. Two

applications of my _Unguentum Traumaticum_ set him immediately to

rights, and now he is coachman in ordinary to a Tallyman’s fat widow in

_Soho_. Witness his hand _E. D._

_Elnathan Ogle_, Anabaptist-teacher in _Morefields_ over-against the

_Grasshopper_ and _Greyhound_, for want of being carefully rubb’d down

by the pious females after his sudorifick exercise, had got the grease

in his heels, and was so violently troubled with rheumatical pains, that

he was no longer able to lay out himself for the benefit of his

congregation. My _Emplastrum Anodynum_ so effectually reliev’d him by

twice using of it, that he has since shifted his profession, teaches the

youth of _Finsbury-fields_ to play at back-sword and quarter-staff, and

has turn’d his conventicle in-for a fencing-school.

_Marmaduke Thummington_, at the _Red-cow_ and _3 Travellers_ in

_Barbican_, was possess’d with an obstreperous ill condition’d devil of

a wife, whose everlasting clack incessantly thundering in his ears, had

made him as deaf as a drum. His case was so lamentable, that a

demiculverin shot over his head affected him no more than it would a man

20 miles off; he was insensible to all the betting and swearing of the

loudest cock-match, that ever was fought by two contending counties;

nay, at one of Mr. _Bays_’s fighting plays, would sit you as

unconcern’d, as if he had been at a Quakers silent meeting. After all

your _Elmys_, and other pretenders had despair’d of him, I undertook his

cure, and with a few of my _Otacoustical_ drops have so intirely

recover’d him, that the society of Reformers have made him their chief

director, and his hearing is so strangely improved, that at an

eaves-dropping at a window, he can hear oaths that were never sworn, and

bawdy that was never spoke.

_Richard Bentlesworth_, superintendent of a small grammar-elaboratory,

in the out-skirts of the town, was so monstrously over-run with the

_Scorbuticum Pedanticum_, that he used to dumfound his milk-woman with

strange stories of _gerunds_ and _participles_; would decline you

_domus_ in a cellar in the _Strand_ before a parcel of chimney-sweepers,

and confute _Schioppius_ and _Alvarez_ to the old wall-ey’d matron, that

sold him grey pease. Tho’ this strange distemper, when once it has got

full possession of a man, is as hard to be cured as an hereditary-pox,

yet I have absolutely recovered him; so that now he troubles the publick

no more with any of his _Dutch-Latin_ dissertations; but is as quiet an

author as ever was neglected by all the town, or buried in

_Little-Britain_.

_Timothy Gimcrack_, doctor of the noble cockle-shell-fraternity, whose

philosophy and learning lay so much under ground, that he had nothing of

either to show above it, used to be troubled with strange unaccountable

fits, and during the _paroxism_, would contrive new worlds, as boys

build houses of cards, find a thousand faults with old _Moses_, make a

hasty pudding of the universe, and drown it in a _Menstruum_ of his own

inventing, and leave the best patient in the city, for a new gay-coated

butterfly. I took out his brains, washed them in my _Aqua

Intellectualis_, and if has since relaps’d, who may he thank, but his

cursed _East-India_ correspondent, who addled his understanding a-new,

with sending him the furniture of a _Chinese_ barber’s-shop.

_Nehemiah Drowsy_, grocer and deputy of his ward, was so prodigiously

afflicted with a lethargy, that his whole life was little better than a

dream. He would sleep even while he was giving the account of his own

pedigree, how from leathern breeches and nothing in them, he came to

the vast fortune he now possesses. Nay, over the pious spouse of his

bosom he has been often found asleep in an exercise which keeps all

other mortals awake. By following my sage directions he’s so wonderfully

alter’d for the better, that after a full dinner of roast-beef and

pudding he can listen to a dull sermon at _Salters-Hall_, without so

much as one yawn; nay, can hear his apprentice read two entire pages of

_Wesley_’s heroic poem, and never makes a nod all the while.

_The End of my Catalogue of_ CURES.

But to come to affairs of a more publick concern, we are in a strange

ferment here about the divided interests of the houses of _Austria_ and

_Bourbon_. Our master following herein the policy of the _Jesuits_, or

rather they following him, for we ought to give the devil his due, seems

to incline most to the latter: however, if the _Spaniards_ and _French_

set up their horses no better in your world than they do with us, ’tis

easy to predict that the unnatural conjuction of the two kingdoms will

be soon shatter’d to pieces. Whenever they meet, there’s such roaring

and swearing, and calling of names between them, that we expect every

minute when they will go to loggerheads. ’Tis true some few of the dons

that are lately arriv’d here, call’d _Lewis-le-Grand_ their protector,

and are _Frenchify’d_ to a strange degree; but the rest of their

countrymen call them a parcel of degenerate rascals, and are so

violently bent against them, that unless _Pluto_ lock’d them up a nights

in distinct apartments, we should have the devil and all to do with

them.

Next to the affairs of _France_ and _Spain_, are we concerned about the

fate of the occasional bill; a few old fashion’d virtuosos among us hope

it will pass, but the generality of our politicians, and particularly

those belonging to _Pluto_’s cabinet, who are stiled the congregation

_de inferno ampliando_, are resolv’d at any rate to hinder its taking

effect. As hypocrisy sends greater numbers to hell, than any other sins

whatever, you are not to wonder if the ministry here do all they can to

oppose the passing of a bill, which will prove so destructive to the

infernal interest by destroying hypocrisy. For which reason _Pluto_ has

lately dispatch’d several trusty emissaries to your parts, who are to

bribe your observators and other mercenary pamphleteers, to raise a

hedious outcry about persecution, and represent this design in such

odious colours to the people, that, if posible, it may miscarry. A

little time will show us the success of this refin’d conduct.

One short story, gentlemen, and then I have done. A _Spaniard_ last week

was commending the authors of his own country, and particularly enlarg’d

upon the merits of the voluminous long-winded _Tostatus_, who, he said,

had writ above a cart-load of books in his time. But why should I talk

of a cart-load, continues he, when he has writ more than ’tis possible

for any one single man to read over in his life? judge then of the worth

of this indefatigable _Tostatus_; judge how many tedious nights and days

he must have spent in study. Under favour, cries an _English_ gentleman

lately arrived here, we have a writer that much exceeds your famous

_Tostatus_, even in that respect. His name is _Bentivoglio_, and tho’ at

present he falls somewhat short of your author, as to the number of

books of his own composing, yet he has writ one octavo, which I’ll defy

any man in the universe to read over, tho’ he has the patience of _Job_,

the constitution of _Sampson_, and the long age of _Methuselah_.

But hold--I forget who I am writing to all this while; gentlemen that

have either more business or pleasure upon their hands, than to go thro’

the tedious persecution of so unmerciful a letter. However, I hope

you’ll pardon me this fault, if you consider the great difficulty of

transmitting the _nouvelles_ of our subterranean world to your parts;

for which reason I was resolv’d rather to trespass upon your patience,

than lose this opportunity of giving you an account of all our memorable

transactions. If in requital of this small trouble I have given myself,

you will be so kind as to order any one of your society, to inform me

how affairs go at present in _Covent-Garden_, at St. _James_’s &c. what

news the dramatick world affords in _Drury-lane_, _Lincolns-Inn-Fields_,

and _Smithfield_, as ’twill be the most sensible obligation you can lay

upon me, so it shall be remember’d with the utmost gratitude by,

_Gentlemen, Your most obedient Servant_,

GIUSIPPE HANESIO.

[Illustration]

CERTAMEN EPISTOLARE,

Between an _Attorney_ of _Cliffords-Inn_ and a dead _Parson_. By Mr. T.

BROWN.

The ARGUMENT.

_A fellow of a college came up to town about business; which

detaining him there much longer than he expected, he was forc’d to

borrow five pounds of his landlady, a widow in_ Shoe-lane, _and

promis’d to pay her within a month. At his return to_ Cambridge, _a

living in_ Lincolnshire _fell vacant, and the_ College _presented

him to it. On the day of his institution he drank so plentifully

with his parishioners, that he fell sick of a fever, which

dispatch’d him in a few days. All this while the widow wonder’d

what was become of the gentleman; and after several months

forbearance, having no news of him, employ’d an_ Attorney _of_

Clifford’s-Inn _to write to him for the five pounds. The letter

coming to the_ College _some eight months after our_ Parson_’s

decease, a gentleman of the same house had the curiosity to open

it; and to carry on the frolick, answer’d it in the name of the

dead man, which gave occasion to the following commerce_.

LETTER I.

_To Mr.---- at his Chambers in---- College in_ Cambridge.

_SIR_,

_Ingatum fi dixere omnia dixeris_, was the saying of one of the greatest

sages of antiquity; to whose name and merits I presume you can be no

stranger. _Perit quod facias ingrato_, was likewise the saying of

another _Græcian_ philosopher, as you will find in _Erasmus_’s adagies.

_Save a thief from the gallows and he’ll cut your throat_, is a proverb

of our own growth; and we have a thousand instances in antient and

modern history to confirm the truth of it.

Indeed ingratitude is so monstrous and execrable a vice, that, according

to the _Roman_ orator’s observation (I need not tell you, that when I

say the _Roman_ orator, I always mean _Tully_) the very earth itself,

the _bruta tellus_, as _Horace_ deservedly calls it, is a standing

testimony against all ungrateful men, and rises up in judgment against

them. For does not this earth, the vilest of the four elements, make

grateful returns to the husbandman for the little cost and pains he

bestows upon her? Does she not sometimes give thirty, sometimes twenty,

and at least ten measures of corn for the one he entrusted her with?

Whereas an ungrateful wretch is so far from doubling or trebling a

kindness done to him, that ’tis next door to a miracle, if he can be

brought to give back the principal.

And now, Sir, you’ll ask me, I suppose, what I mean by declaming thus

againgst ingratitude, any more than simony or sacrilege, or any other

sin whatever; and particularly how this comes to affect you? Why, Sir,

don’t be so hasty, I beseech you, and you’ll soon be satisfied.

You must understand me then, that one Mrs. _Rebecca Blackman_, widow,

who lives at the sign of the _Griffin_ in _Shoe-lane_, (I suppose, Sir,

somebody’s conscience begins to fly in his face by this time) told me,

that a certain gentleman of _Cambridge_, who very much resembles you in

name, face, and person, (and now Sir, I humbly conceive that somebody

that shall be nameless blushes) borrow’d of her upon the first of

_April_, 1698, in the tenth year of his majesty king _William_’s reign,

the sum of five pounds, (well Sir, let him blush on, for blushing is a

sign of grace) which he promis’d to repay her _in verbo sacerdotis_,

within a month after, (good Lord! to see how canonically some people can

break their words) upon the word of a gentleman, as he was a christian,

and all that. But mind what follows, Sir. This worthy gentleman, I told

you of, altho’ he was bound to the performance of his promise by all

that was good and sacred; and if good and sacred would not bind him, by

a note under his own hand, wherein he promis’d to pay to Mrs. _Rebecca

Blackman_, widow, or order, the aforesaid sum of five pounds upon

demand; nevertheless, and notwithstanding all this, he has not had the

manners so much as to send her a letter to excuse himself for this

delay, and takes no more notice of her, than if he had never seen any

such person as Mrs. _Rebecca Blackman_ in all his life.

She being therefore my antient acquaintance and friend, and one for whom

I profess to have a very great value, desir’d me to write a few lines to

you, which accordingly I have done, and by her order I request you, as

being a person of great civility and candour, to tell the aforesaid

gentleman, (whom as I am informed you may see every morning in the year,

if you have a looking-glass in your room, which I will in charity

suppose) that she expects to have the five pounds _supradict_ within a

fortnight at farthest, and then all will be well: otherwise she must be

forc’d, in her own defence, to employ the secular arm, _anglicè_, a

baliff or catchpole, and put the abovemention’d person into lobb’s

pound.

Now, Sir, having a great regard to mother university, (of which I might

have been an unworthy member, had not my uncle----) and likwise being

desirous to prevent farther effusion of christian money, I make it my

humble request to you to speak to the aforesaid gentleman, that he would

send me the sum of five pounds with all expedition; and in so doing you

will in a most particular manner oblige,

_Sir_,

_Your most humble tho’

unknown Servant_,

W. H.

From my Chambers

in _Clifford_’s-Inn.

ANSWER I.

_To Mr._ W. H. _Attorney at Law, at his Chambers in_ Clifford’_s-Inn_

_Worthy Sir_,

Yesterday morning, about eight of the clock precisely, the sun being

newly entred into _Sagittarius_, and the wind standing at south-east by

east; which corner, as the learned abbot _Joachimus Trithemius_, in his

elaborate treatise, intitled, _Eurus Enucleatus_, tells us, is a

certain prognostick of droughts and hot weather; I was smoaking a pipe

of tobacco, and reading _Erasmus_’s _Moriæ Encomium_ of the _Basil_

edition, printed by _Frobenius_, who, you know, Sir, married

_Christopber Plantin_’s cook-maid, when to my great surprize, the

post-boy brought me a letter from one _W. H._ who pretends to date it

from his chambers in _Clifford_’s-Inn; tho’ as far as I can judge of the

beast by his stile and way of writing, he ought to have a room no where

but in the brick-house in _Moorfields_.

For, Sir, the author of it, and I desire you to tell him so much from

me, seems to rave, and in his raving fit disgorges old buckram

_Apophthegms_ and ends of _Latin_ stolen out of _Lycosthenes_; and in

short, at the expence of other folks, throws his thread-bare quotations

about him like a madman, as you will soon perceive, if you’ll give

yourself the trouble to read what follows.

I. This retainer to the law, Sir, begins his letter with _Ingratum si

dixere omnia dixere_; and has the impudence to tell me, that it was a

saying of one of the greatest sages of antiquity, as if a man were a jot

the wiser for his calling him so; and, like a presuming coxcomb as he

is, presumes I am no stranger to his name and merits. Pray, Sir, tell

him from me, that he has falsify’d his quotation; for which crime, by an

old statute of king _Ina_, as you will find in _Gothofred_ and

_Panormitanus_, he ought to do penance in a certain wooden machine,

call’d in _Latin_, _Collistrigium_, and in _English_ a _Pillory_; and

that in all the antient manuscripts both in the _Vatican_ and _Bodleian_

libraries, not to mention those of the duke of _Courland_, and the

prince of _Hesse-Darmstadt_, ’tis written, _Attornatum si dixeris, omnia

dixeris_; which is as much as to say, Sir, that if you call a man an

attorney, you call him all the rogues and rascals in the world.

II. Before I proceed any farther, I must beg the favour of you to inform

him, that we are much surpriz’d here to find an attorney guilty of so

much nonsense, as to send down _Latin_ to the university, where we have

more than we know well what to do with. ’Tis as bad as sending

_Derby_-ale from _Fullwood_’s-rents to the town of _Derby_, or sturgeon

to _Huntingdon_. In fine, as he has manag’d matters, ’tis downright

_murderium_ (he knows the meaning of that word) for which he must never

expect the benefit of the clergy.

To pass over his next idle quotation, and an old batter’d _English_

proverb; the next person he falls upon, is the _Roman_ orator; and with

his usual discretion, he gives me to understand that he means _Tully_ by

him. ’Tis well he tells us whom he means; for of all the men in the

world, I thought an attorney had as little to do with an orator, as a

bawd with an eunuch. But why should a fellow that never meant any thing

in his life, pretend to meaning? Or how came _Tully_ and such a

blockhead to be acquainted? Well, but _Tully_, he says, observes that

the earth itself, which, I hope by the bye, will one of these days stop

his pettifegging mouth, for calling it the vilest of the four elements,

is a standing testimony against ingratitude; and why forsooth, because

it returns the husbandman two for one. I can’t imagine how it should

come into this wretch’s head to rail at ingratitude, who is the most

ungrateful devil that ever liv’d; and ’tis ten to one but I prove it

before I have done with him. He is ungrateful in the first place to his

schoolmaster, for making no better use of the _Latin_ he wipp’d into

him. He is ungrateful to the _Common Law_, for polluting it which wicked

sentences purloin’d out of _Pagan_ authors: and lastly, he is ungrateful

to the _Inn_ he lives in, for dreaming seven whole years there to no

purpose, and continuing as great a blockhead as when he first come to

town.

Towards the conclusion of his letter, _you must understand_, says he,

_that one_--This he said to show his civility and good manners; _You

must understand_? Why suppose I won’t _understand_, how will he help

himself? Or what man alive can understand a fellow that murders his

thoughts between two languages? but I find I must _understand_ him right

or wrong. After this compliment, he tells me an idle foolish story of a

widow in _Shoe-lane_, and raves about five pounds, that I know nothing

of; and is so full of it that a few lines below he calls it the sum

_supradict_. I shall take another opportunity to knock this impertinent

tale on the head, and shall only desire you at present to acquaint this

_W. H._ from me, that when he has answer’d this letter, I design to give

him satisfaction in his other points. In the mean time, unknown Sir, I

am as the _Roman_ orator has it,

_Tuus ab ovo usque ad mala_,

Q. Z.

LETTER II.

_SIR_,

I don’t know what plenty of _Latin_ you may have in the _University_;

tho’, by the bye, I can hardly believe you are so overstock’d with it as

you pretend; but I dare swear that _good manners_ are very scarce things

among you, and your letter sufficiently demonstrates it.

You are angry with me, it seems, for quoting a few _Latin_ sentences; I

am afraid ’tis the meaning of them, and not the language that disgusts

you; for some people can’t endure to hear the truth told them in any

tongue whatever: but, under favour, _Sir_, what mighty virtue should

there be in the air of _Oxford_ and _Cambridge_, that _Latin_ should

only flourish there? Or why should not _Tully_ take up his quarters in

the _Inns_ of _Chancery_, as well as one of your _Colleges_? I am sure

we can give him better meat and drink, and perhaps have cleaner and

larger rooms to entertain him.

_Non obtusa adeo gestamus pectora_ POENI,

_Nec tam aversus equoss TYRIA sol jungit ab urbe_.

The meaning of these two verses are, (for why should not I interpret my

_Latin_ to you, as well as you have taken the freedom to explain your’s

to me?) that _London_ is not so barbarous and unpolish’d a place, but

that _Apollo_, and the nine _Muses_ may find as hospitable a reception

there, as with you in the university.

But, _Sir_, I have no time to lose, tho’ you have. The widow is pressing

for her money, the _Term_ draws on apace, and I must know your answer

one way or other. Therefore let me desire you in your next, not to

ramble from the point in hand, but to keep to the text. Once in your

life take _Martial_’s advice, _Dic aliquid de tribus capellis_; here’s

_Latin_ for you again; but the advice is good and seasonable. Once more

leave off flourishing and come immediately to business, that I may know

what measures to take.

_I am,

Yours, as you use me_,

W.H.

ANSWER II.

_SIR_,

You charge me with want of manners in the _University_. Now to convince

you that your accusation is groundless, frivolous and vexatious, I will

take no notice of the scurrilous reflections in your letter, but, as you

desire me, fall immediately to business.

To sum them up in a few lines what you have bestow’d so many upon, you

tell me that a certain gentleman of my acquaintance, meaning myself, I

suppose, whom in your excess of charity, you believe to have a

looking-glass in his chamber, and a great deal of the like stuff,

borrow’d five pounds last _April_ of one _Rebecca Blackman_, widow, and

spinster, living at the sign of the _Griffin_ and _Red-lion_ in

_Shoe-lane_, and has not paid her as he promis’d. Now, _Sir_, if I make

it appear to you that there is no such a thing as a widow _in rerum

natura_, or a _Griffin_, or a _Red-lion_; that _Shoe-lane_ is an

equivocal word; and that ’tis impossible for a man that lives under the

evangelical dispensation to owe any such _heathenish sum_ as five

pounds; I hope you’ll be brought to knock under the table, and own that

you have given me and yourself a great deal of unnecessary trouble.

_First of all_, I affirm, assert and maintain, that there is no such

thing as a widow in the universe; and thus I prove it. A _widow_ is one

that laments and grieves for the loss of her husband; but how can you or

any man in _London_ know that a woman really grieves? for shedding of

tears, and wearing of crape, are not sure signs of grief; consequently

then how can you be sure there is any such thing as a widow? And if so,

are not you an insufferable coxcomb to palm a widow upon a stranger,

that never did you any harm? Well, but suppose it were possible for a

man to know that a woman really grieves for the loss of her husband,

which proposition, let me tell you, _Heroboord Burgersdicius_, and the

whole stream of the _Dutch_ commentators and _Peleponnesian_ divines

positively deny; how shall we be able to find out this monster, and tell

where the place of her abode is? Why, say you, she lives at the sign of

the _Griffin_ and _Red Lion_ in _Shoe-lane_? Bless us! what a sad thing

it is to be troubled with a distemper’d brain! _Imprimis_, a _Griffin_

is a new _ens rationis_, only devis’d by the imagination, and is no

where to be found, no not in the deserts of _Arabia_, or the vast

forests of _Afric_; altho’ _Afric_, Sir, ever since the time of

_Eratosthenes_ and _Strabo_, has been said continually to produce some

new monster: and as for a _Red Lion_, I defy you and all the attornies

in the kingdom to shew me one. _Theophrastus_, _Ælian_, _Dionysius_,

_Harmogistus de miraculis_, _Perogunius de brutis_, _Philopemen junior

de robusta natura_, and a hundred more of worth and credit, whom I have

read, and you never heard nam’d, either in _Westminster-hall_, or

_Westminster-abbey_. But since these are pagan authors, it may be you

will pretend they ought to have no weight with a christian, and I know

you will be damn’d before you will allow of any thing against your own

mammon; therefore I shall proceed to give you more modern accounts of

what has been remark’d in the most natural places for to expect monsters

in, and yet the devil of a _Red Lion_ do they mention. _Don Gonsales_

gives us a particular of all the wonders, miracles and strange things in

the habitable part of the moon; _Mandevil_’s _Travels_, _Piuto_’s and

_de la Val_’s, the most fabulous of the poets, the most lying pilgrims

and extravagant historians, never dar’d to have the impudence to impose

so much upon mankind as to assert the being of a _Red Lion_.

Now if human reason, experience in so many places, and no proof any

where can have place, as it ought to do with a lawyer, I hope here are

enough to convince you of your error; but if nothing under ocular

demonstration will satisfy you, and you are not at leisure to turn over

so many volumes, let me request you, worthy Sir, to take a step to the

tower, and if you don’t find what I say to be true, I promise you here

under my hand to give you a hundred pounds, _bonæ & legalis monetæ

Angliæ_, the next time I meet you.

However, for peace sake, let us once admit, that _Griffins_ and _Red

Lions_, are real things, and no fictions of the brain, as _Smeglesius_

hath evidently prov’d it, in what street or square, or lane, or alley,

is the abovemention’d Mrs. _Rebecca Blackman_ to be found? Oh, cry you

in _Shoe-lane_. Come Sir, _Shoe-lane_ is a fallacy which you must not

pretend to put upon a man that has taken his own degrees, and writes

himself _A. M._ don’t you know, that _dolus latet in universalibus_?

Whatever lane people walk in they must certaintly wear out shoe-leather;

and in whatever lane they wear out shoe-leather, that lane, in propriety

of speech, deserves and may challenge the name of _Shoe-lane_;

consequently then, every lane, not only in _London_, but in all his

majesty’s dominions, where the subjects of _England_ walk, and wear out

shoe-leather, may properly be call’d _Shoe-lane_. Judge then whether

ever I shall be able to find out the true place where this widow lives

by the equivocal description you have given of it. As for my _Major_, I

defy you or any of your brethren in wicked parchment, to find out the

least hole in it. My _Minor_ is as plain as the sun at noon-day; and you

may as well run your head against a brick-wall, as pretend to attack it;

and then the consequence must be good of course. I would take this

opportunity to shew the falshood and vanity of the remaining part of

your letter; but the bell-rings for supper: however, I shall take care

to do it next post; at which time you may certainly expect to hear

farther from

_Your most humble servant_, Q. Z.

ANSWER III.

I fully demonstrated to you in my last, that there was no such thing as

a _Widow_; or suppose there was, that it was morally impossible for a

man to know it. After this, I proceeded to show, that your _Griffin_ was

romantick, your _Red Lyon_ fabulous; and that _Shoe-lane_ by being every

lane, was consequently no lane at all. Now, _Sir_, I come to consider

the following part of your letter, where with your usual ingenuity and

good manners, you tell me I am indebted the sum of five pounds to the

widow abovemention’d; and I doubt not to lay open the vanity of this

allegation, as well as of those that preceded it. Sir, give me leave to

tell you, that ’tis impossible that--should owe any such sum as five

pounds. Is it to be imagin’d that a--should trespass against a plain

positive express text of scripture? This is what the worst of our

adversaries, either papists or other sectaries, of what title or

denomination soever, would not have the impudence to charge us with.

Does not St. _Paul_ positively say, _Owe no man any thing but love_? How

then can I owe this chimerical widow of your own making that heathenish

sum called five pounds? Indeed if there is any such person, I owe her a

great deal of love, as the text commands me; but as for five pounds, I

owe it her not: and for this, as I have already observ’d to you, I can

produce a plain positive text of scripture, which I hope you will not be

so wicked as to deny.

In short, _Sir_, I am afraid that the law has discompos’d your brain,

and this I conclude from your incoherent citations of _Latin_, your

raving of _Griffins_ and _Red Lions_, of _Widows_ and _five pounds_.

Therefore, tho’ I am wholly a stranger to you, yet, as you are a native

of this kingdom, I heartily wish your cure, and shall do whatever lies

in my power to effect it, for which reason I desire you to take notice

of the following advice. It being now spring time, at which season

according to the observation of the learned _Zarabella_ and

_Ciacconius_, the humours begin to ferment and float in all human

bodies, I would advise you to correct the saline particles, with which I

perceive your blood is overcharg’d, with good wholsome nettle-broth and

watergruel every morning alternately; but take care to put no currants

or sugar into your watergruel, because, as the judicious _Frenelius_, in

has _Diatriba de usu_, affirms, currants excite choler, and sugar has an

ill effect upon the diaphragm, glandula pinealis. Then, Sir, thrice a

week at least, refrigerate your intestines with good salutary clysters,

and take some eighteen ounces of blood away about two hours before the

clyster is administred to you. Above all let me conjure you to forbear

stuff’d beef, salt fish, pepper and hot spices, and what is full as

pernicious as pepper and hot spices, the reading of any _Latin_ authors,

for fear they should raise a new rebellion in the humours: sage and

butter, with a glass or two of clarify’d whey moderately taken in a

morning, may be of singular use. Go to bed early, and rise betimes. If

you live up to these directions, I do not doubt but you’ll be your own

man again in a little time. Having no farther interest in all this than

only effecting your cure, I persuade my self you will be so much your

own friend as to follow the advice of

_Your humble Servant_,

Q. Z.

LETTER III.

_SIR_,

Since you were so wonderfully kind in your last letter, as out of your

great liberality to honour me with some of your own directions, I am

resolv’d not to be behind-hand with you in point of courtesy, and

therefore recommend the following rules to your consideration.

In the first place, I crave leave to inform you, that syllogisms and

sophistry pay no debts; That as old birds are not to be caught with

chaff, so a lawyer is not to be imposed upon by thin frothy arguments;

and that _Aristotle_, let him make never so great a figure in the

schools, has no manner of authority in _Westminster-hall_, where I can

assure you they won’t take his _ipse dixit_ for a groat.

Secondly, I would advise you not to have so great an opinion of your own

parts, as to despise the rest of the world, and think to palm any of

your little banters upon them. ’Tis enough in all conscience, I think,

that you take the liberty to dumfound us with your _Fathers_ and

_Councils_ in the pulpit, which we of the laity are forced to take upon

content; and therefore you may spare them elsewhere.

Thirdly, and lastly, When you run in any one’s debt, ’tis my counsel,

and I give it you for nothing, that you would take care to see the party

satisfy’d in good current money, for fear a wicked _Moabite_ should

compel you to it, which, between friends, will not be much for your

reputation. As this is the last letter you are like to receive from me,

I make it once more my request to you to observe the contents of it: for

I am not at leisure to trifle any longer with you: otherwise a

stone-doublet is the word, and wars must ensue, which every good

christian ought to prevent, if it lies in his power. I am, unless you

give me further provocation,

_Your Humble Servant_, W. H.

P. S. _Your old friend the widow, is sorry to hear you have made so

familiar with her, as to call her being in question; as likewise that of

her_ Griffin _and_ Red Lion. _As for your love, having no occasion for

it at present, she desires you to bestow it elsewhere; but is resolv’d,

notwithstanding all your learned quirks and quiddities, to get her five

pounds again; and when she has it in her pocket, for your sake she’ll

never trust it with a logician, that would_ ergo _her out of what is her

own_.

ANSWER IV.

I received your last, for which I return you my hearty thanks, and am

entirely of your opinion, that old birds are not to be caught with

chaff; I find, Sir, you are a great admirer of old proverbs, and I

commend you for it, for a great deal of morality and wholsome knowledge

is to be pick’d out of them: besides, Sir, they are like the Common law

of _England_, and derive their authority from usage and custom. Now I am

talking of proverbs, there is one comes into my head at present, which I

desire you to ruminate or chew the cud upon. In short, ’tis _Birds of a

feather flock together_, which is effectually and literally fulfill’d

when an attorney and a pickpocket are in the same company.

I am likewise of opinion, worthy Sir, that what you say of _Aristotle_’s

making none of the best figures in _Westminster-hall_, may be true; for

how can that plodding animal call’d a philosopher, expect civil quarter

from the sons of noise and clamour? But by the by, Sir, I must take the

freedom to tell you, that some of his friends here take it very ill,

that you the black guard of _Westminster-hall_ will not take his word

for a groat. Sir, that diminutive contemptible piece of money a groat,

Sir, three of which go to the making up of that important sum,

denominated by the vulgar a shilling. Is it not very barbarous and

inhuman, that _Aristotle_, formerly tutor to the greatest monarch in the

universe, (when I say the greatest monarch in the universe, I neither

mean _Bajazet_, nor _Tamerlane_, nor _Scanderberg_, nor _Pipin_, nor yet

the _French_ king, but _Alexander the great_) whose _ipse dixit_ would

have formerly gone more current than our present _Exchequer_ notes, or

_Malt_ tickets, in any tavern, inn, or victualling-house, between the

_Hellespont_ and the _Ganges_, for a thousand pounds upon occasion: is

it not barbarous and inhuman, I say, that this same _Aristotle_ should

not be trusted for a groat in _Westminster-hall_? That language one

would hardly have expected either from _Goth_, _Vandal_, or _Hun_, but

much less from a person of your civility and learning.

But alas! Sir, _Ætas parentum pejor avis_; we live in the fag-end of a

most degenerate ungrateful age, that has no regard to _Greek_ or

_Latin_. _Oh tempora & mores!_ was the complaint of a great virtuoso two

thousand years ago, which we have but too much reason to renew now. Oh,

_Aristotle, Aristotle_! that I should ever live to see thy venerable

name in so much contempt, that any one belonging to _Westminster-hall_,

should have the impudence to say, he will not trust thee for a groat!

_Ultra Sauromatas fugere hinc libet._ I dare swear, that even in

_Muscovy_ and _Poland_, none of the most hospitable countries in the

world, thou mayst at any time take a good dinner and a gallon of brandy

upon thy _Entilechia_ and _Actus perspecui_, and yet in

_Westminster-Hall_, the most enlighten’d hall of the most enlighten’d

city of _Christendom_, thy _ipse dixit_ in so much vogue formerly with

the _Thomists_ and _Scotists_, the _Nominalists_ and _Realists_, should

not pass for a groat! So much, _Sir_, by way of answer, to _Aristotle_

and _Westminster-Hall_, _ipse dixit_, and a groat.

What you say in a following paragraph concerning the wicked _Moabite_

and the _Stone Doublet_, is very picquant and ingenious: for, Sir,

reading Mr. _Hobbs_’s chapter about _Concatenation of Thought_, I find

there is a great connection between the _Moabite_ and _Stone doublet_;

and some of the modern itineraries inform us, that stone doublets are in

mighty request with the people of those countries to this very day; and

the physical reason they assign for it, is, because stone doublets are

very refrigerating and alexpharmick, which undoubtedly is a great

refreshment in so hot a climate, as that where the wicked _Moabite_

lived.

But, _Sir_, in lieu of the advice, which, out of your great bounty and

liberality, you were pleas’d to give me for nothing, be pleas’d to

accept of the following character, which I give myself the trouble to

transcribe out of an ancient MS. in the _Cotton-Library_, suppos’d to be

written by the famous _Junius_, who for his great skill in the oriental

languages, acquir’d the sirname of _Patricius_; and this character,

unless I am mistaken in my mathematicks, will give you a lively idea of

a certain beast you may perhaps be acquainted with.

An attorney is one that lives by the undoing of his neighbours, as

surgeons do by broken heads and claps, and like judges that always bring

rain with them to the assizes, is sure to bring mischief with him

wherever he comes. He’s an animal bred up by the corruption of the law,

nurs’d up in discord and contention, and has a particular cant to

himself, by which he terrifies the poor country people who worship him

as the _Indians_ do the devil, for fear he should mischief ’em. He is a

constant resorter to fairs and markets, and has a knack to improve the

least quarrel into a law-suit. He talks as familiarly of my lord chief

justice as if he had known him from his cradle, and threatens all that

incur his displeasure with leading them a jaunt to _Westminster-hall_.

If his advice be ask’d upon the most insignificant trifle, he nods his

head, twirls his pen in his ear, and cries ’twill bear a noble action;

and when he has empty’d the poor wretch’s pocket, advises him to make up

the matter, drink a merry cup with his adversary, and be friends. He

affects to be thought a man of business, and quotes statutes as

fiercely, as if he had read over _Keble_ and got him by heart. The

catchpole is his constant companion, by the same token they are as

necessary to one another, as a midwife to a bawd, or an apothecary to a

grave physician. While he lives, he is a perpetual persecutor of all the

country about him; but fattens by being cursed, as they say camomile

grows by being trod upon. At last, the devil serves an execution upon

his person, hurries him to his own quarters, in whose clutches I leave

him.

If this character may be of any service to you, I shall heartily

rejoice, it being my highest ambition to approve my self,

_Your most_, &c. Q. Z.

ANSWER V.