PErhaps our Title may at first Sight seem to carry a kind of Contradiction, as if Religion and Libertinism were Notions incompatible: But to clear that Preliminary we must aver, That even the grossest Infidel, that at least believes no other God, however makes Gods of his own. And as Devotion in some sort or other naturally follows the Be­lief of a Heaven; So he that makes Pleasure his Heaven, may be a Zealot and a Bigot, even to a Superstition in his own Profes­sion; and not only bend the Knee, but prostrate the Affections, Heart and Soul, with all the most passionate Tenders of Worship and Adoration to his Darling Idolatry. As such then we pre­sume to define our Libertine's Religion, and as such is our pre­sent Golden Image set up, and the following Io paeans to Pleasure and Licentiousness, are the Timbrels, Psaltries, and Sackbuts Playing before it.

'Tis true, those hot-spur'd Nebuchadnezzar-men (as Magiste­rially as they bear themselves) have the Misfortune sometimes from high-flown Idol-makers, to bring themselves at last, like him too, to humble Pasture-Grazers. A more than Morning Head­ach, a Morning Heart-ach too often attends the too Riotous O­ver-Night Revels. But alas, no wonder; for the Libertine's Jollity is but a kind of Grashopper's Mirth; his unprovident Summers Chirping, brings him in the end to his Doleful Winter-starving.

But to leave this Melancholy Consideration, and return to our gayer Contemplations: Our present, or rather late Author, (for to tell you the Truth, he is now no longer in the Land of the [Page] Living) We desire our Reader to believe, was a very feeling Compiler of the following Discourse, und as being too Zealous a Homager of the above-named Image-work, and one who has not only bent his Knee, but laid his Bones by it: As such, we are the bolder to Recommend the Work as the Labour of so hearty an Artist.

This Piece therefore as containing our mad Rover's own Me­moires, or rather his own Effigies in Miniature, he has made bold to Frontispiece it with a short Fragment of Canonical Flourish; a little half-Text of Scripture, viz. Rejoyce, O young Man, be­ing truly as much as was required for his Purpose, and therefore curtail'd accordingly. But indeed the Libertine's Oracle being spirited by another sort of Enthusiasm, a very small Pittance of Book-Inspiration, (and that too cramp'd and warp'd to their own Bent) serves their Turn.

A Libertine, that John Galloper that lights Life at both Ends, that drives like Phaeton, and generally drops like him too; by the Impulse of his Religion, looks up to Heaven for no other expected Blessing from it, but its Rain and its Sunshine, and considers the whole Creation as only his Garden and Confectionary, and the God of it as no more than his Providore. As such is his Re­ligion, his whole Prayers have but this single Article, viz. Give us this Day our daily Riot; and his Thanksgivings are according; that is, if he has any. For looking upon All Things, the whole Pro­duct of Nature, as no less than his Right and Due, he considers the Ceremonial Complement of Thanks and Gratitude as an unneces­sary Supererogation.

However to do Justice to our departed Author, the Rover held not out to his Catastrophe; we must declare he made his Exit to the World under some true Pangs of Conversion: And the Liber­tine dying first, he lived to write his own Elegy, to subscribe his Farewel to his falling Dagon, and to build new Altars to a fairer Divinity: And as such, you will find this Posthumous Piece, the Product of a double Conception: The Libertine Begins, but the Penitent Concludes.