HONEST Tom, what, such a Man alive! I ne'er thought to see thee, after so long an Embargo.

My dear Dick! what cheer? well met in old England once again.

Prithee where hast been adrift, e'er since we lost sight of each other, that plaguy shower of Fire, Hail, and Smoake, against the [...]yman at Cape Spartel?

That same Pickaroon has kept me under Hatches at Sally [...]er since, at the old Egyptian sport of Brick and Mortar; [...]d had it not been for our gracious King and Queen I might [...]ve lain Wind-bound in that Gulf for ever.

Sally, quoth'a! I wish we had that day sunk with the rest [...] our Fellows, rather than liv'd thus long to see a worse [...]t of Pickaroons swagger thus at our own doors;—but [...]ce 'tis come to that, we'll e'en venture one brush together [...]gain, and make the Monsieurs know the difference between [...]ar Oak and their Firr, 'tween English Men and French Toad­stools.

Dear Dick, we'll fight, and live or dye together: But [...]rithee what became of thee after that unlucky Rencounter? [...]ast thee struggled with Wind and Water, and liv'd by the [...]ope ever since?

I wish I had dy'd by the Rope rather than live (as [...] did) by the Oar; for the Sallyman with the Weather­gage having soon master'd us, the Frenchman that lay there aloof barter'd with him for what was left on board; and I among others have ever since tugg'd 'tween Heaven and Hell, 'tween Wind and Water above ground, but under the Hatches of a French Galley, the Masterpiece of all Slavery (this side old Charon's Ferry-boat,) where one meets in a narrow bottom, with all the tickling torments of whole Barbary. But the Galleys lately putting in to Torbay, I slipt my Chain, and Tingmouth being on fire, I fairly ran away by the light on't.

'Tis a bad Fire as well as Wind brings no Man good: By my troth well exchang'd! a French Galley for English Liberty, and Bread and Water for rost Beef! but prithee what Company had'st there?

Why, of all sorts; for the Gallies, like Hell and the Grave, refuse none: there are all Nations as well as French, and all kind of Criminals, especially Hugonots (which is a Crime of the first rate in France) and among those French Protestants there are many, that like our Sea-Chaplains, can Preach and Pray as oft as the gingling of the Chain and the absence of the Commander would permit.

Truly, Dick, tho' my Cabin was the bottom of a musty Cellar, yet I kept a Diary of Wind and Tide; that is, of the frowns and favours of my grim Patroon, which with a Moorish Tune or two I have learnt, will be some divertisement to us aboard. But first give me thy opinion of these Monsieurs; what a plague brought their French impudence to our Channel?

I'le be free with thee, Tom, and give thee such an ac­count as my own dear bought experience, or that of others [...]ay have furnish'd me—A French Papist then is a vain f [...]e, fickle Creature, a Bubble blown by a Priest, and toss'd abo [...] by the breath of his mouth, a bad Neighbour, a worse Friend true to nothing but a Whore, and to no Interest but tha [...] of his Master's Ambition; a meer Butterfly, that flutters a [...]d whifles about for a while, and then falls and dies in the dirt, 'tis a Spaniel that fetches and carries, but not for himself; he [...]e is wrapt warm like a Silk-worm, and fares well to day, but to morrow is reduc'd to his Linnen-brogues, and wooden Shooes, and is glad to find Bread and Onion, and to yield up the fat of his Land to the Priests, and their fellow-Caterpillars.

At this rate all France is but one Galley, and French Sub­jects are more at the Oar than those in Barbary, if, like Worms, every cloven foot may crush them: Have they any Nobility and Gentry that dare stand up for Liberty, and Property, and the Laws, and oppose such proceedings?

Yes, yes; as much as a Ery of Eish dare oppose a Levia­than; their King's pleasure is their Law; Statutes and Magna Charta's are but so many Cobwebs; their Nobility and Gentry are forced to give up their Estates, and to live upon Court Pen­sions, to turn Flag-men and Scarf-men, and ne'er be heard of but in the Camp and Gazers; all Men of Estates are become Men of War; and those that follow'd the Plough are now Pio­neers, and follow the Leaguer; the Merchant has no Trade, and is turn'd Farmer; Vintuers and Coopers are made Sea-men; and Wines and Brandy die where they grew, for want of vent.

So that their Seamen drink well, if they do but eat and work accordingly.

Their Seamen, I tell thee, are a sort of Water-Rats, that have been more used to Land, and to creep in Vineyards, than to climb up a main Mastyard; they're choice Seamen went off with the flood of Protestants that left that Kingdom; and tho' the great Turk be a Friend of France, yet there are 1200 of their best midship-men padlock'd up at Algiers.

Perhaps 'tis more tolerable being there than at home: But after all, what would they be at?

Why, at any thing that's not their own, rather than be quiet: The French value themselves upon their address in trespas­sing upon their Neighbours, in seising their Possessions, in keep­ing their Freeholds from them, and seek no other Title than that of Conveniencie; that is, when Monsieur casts a longing eye to any Place or Country (as Lorain, Alsatia, Hudsons-bay, or the like) that he thinks convenient for him, he sends before him some Title-forging Attorney, that soon finds out Hamperfuls of old, musty Pretensions, that shall reach any corner of the New or Old World that his Master likes best; and then follows Belzebub with his Legions, who puts himself in possession; and in all these Cases of Conveniency, he is both Witness, Judge, and Party.

That's French Law, I believe, and will scarce hold water any where else; but this Monsieur had need of Guinea and Peru: Whence, I prithee, has he to pay these Fleets and Legions that turn the World thus upside down?

His Priests and Dragoons prog for him, as thou knowest at Sally, the Jack-calls do for the Lion; he takes from Peter to pay Paul; he robs one Friend to pay another, and squeezes out of one Countrey all its grease, to liquor his Boots for the next; he hath borrow'd the Church-Plate for his Mint, and their Bells for his Artillery.

Prithee what are those French Engineers call'd Dragoons, which our Goodwifes and Children are so much afraid of?

Oh! those are a kind of Fishermen that catch Hugonots; a sort of booted Apostles that are sent up and down to root out and destroy a certain Weed, call'd Protestants; the Men they send to the Gallies, the Children they hang about the Hedges, and make a present of to the Birds, Cats, and Dogs; but the Women, they first discharge their Love at 'em, and then their Blunder­busses; they ravish, torture, and slave them; they make of them Beasts and Monsters, and then lock them 'tween four Walls, without hopes of ever seeing the Sun, unless they resign up their Bibles and Consciences together, and then worship the Beast and the Whore of Babylon.

Brave rogues! indeed, most cruel to the weaker Sek! Is't true that they are such Zealots as to carry on the War with Fire and Faggot yonder in Germany?

Most certainly; and that Fire is seven times fiercer than I can describe it; insomuch that the poor Wretches whom they fry and roast, without pity of Age or Sex, think Hell's broke loose, or that the last Conflagration is at hand; and yet all the Monsieurs do, they say, is for the good of their [Page 2] Religion; for this they burn and plunder Towns' and Coun­tries, turn Cities into Charnel-Houses, and Churches into Bonfires, dig and plough up Church-yards, rip up the big­belly'd, and drag the Dead about the Streets.

So that the Womb and the Crave, the Quick and the Dead, taste alike of thei [...] inhumanity; and all this in Popish Countries too?

Yes, and much more; they ravish the Mother, strip the Father, and then kill both for company; the Priest de­bauches the Daughter, and then locks her up for his own use in a Cloister, and makes her next Relations maintain her: And for all these Cruelties which they practise where­ever they come, all the World hath now a Crow to pull with the Monsieur, and are resolved to pound him up, to recover some satisfaction for all these Pranks.

LEWIS the GREAT, quoth'a; this is the Devil and all his Works. The reason then that Papists forbid the Bible is, for that their practice is quite against it: What, would they have these good qualities to recommend them to us here? 'Tis much that people so well known, and so much hated, should still have the Weathergage, and good success always for them: What, do they burn Popish Churches too? Since there are no Bibles there to kindle their fury, or to feed their flame? Prithee how comes the Priests to suffer it? and what becomes o' th' Bells?

Why, 'tis no new thing for Turks and Tartars, and every Tool to fire a Town; but Churches still escaped, till this French way of warring was found out: besides, their Friend the Great Turk would not believe them to be in good ear­nest, if they did not do something more than ordinary. As for the Priests, they go shares, and have the Bells for their pains, which they sell to the Gun-Founders, who melt them into Canonical Guns and Mortar-pieces; and the Owls are made believe, that being Consecrated, they'll do better execution against Hereticks.

The French indeed have seem'd to use some Spell or Black Art in the case, or how a vengeance could they have gull'd their Neighbours of all those strong places that open'd to them so easily at their first appearance?

Ah, Tom, there are more ways to sink a Ship than one: the French often kill with white Powder, that gives no report; their Artillery of late years have been gilt, and instead of the Battering Ram, they have used the Golden Fleece; their Silver Trumpers were turn'd into Silver Keys that had Wards to open all the Locks in Germany; Brass, and Bell-mettle is not the surest for execution; this Mon­sieur finds his Pistols of more force than his Culverins; and that few Men of War, of what Rate soever, are proof against them: But if this Charm fails, he works under ground, and employs Rogues and Thieves to steal and betray Towns, or else to fire them; and then he has his Spies of all sizes and Sexes with his Pensions and Presents; and over and a­bove all, he has a little gaudy Fly (call'd a French Miss) to bait his Hooks and Traps withal: And these are but some of those many Links whereof the French Chain of Slavery is compos'd.

But prithee, Dick, what Friends or Seconds has the Monsieur in all this puther he makes in the World?

By me troth not many; some may fear, but none can love him, unless for his Money; for like our Town-Bullies, he thrusts himself into all Quarrels; cuffs the one, malls the other; and tho' none gets but Blows and bloody Noses, yet he is still a winner; so that all know him too well to trust him, excepting his singular good and only Friend the Great Turk, who is made believe the Half Moon is made of French Cheese.

Bless us all! not trust the greatest King in the world, as I heard a French Lackquey call him t' other day. With all this huffing and hectoring he must have some publick Faith and common Honesty.

I'm afraid not any to spare; enough for his own turn; and when that's serv'd, he cares no further; whoever struts upon the Stilts of Tyranny and Oppression, is no Slave to his Word; his Heart is Flint, his Forehead Brass, and has no Bowels, nor sense of right or wrong; and thus the Monsieur breaks Treaties to preserve the publick quiet; steals Towns in time of Peace, to prevent War; makes truce on­ly to disarm his Neighbour; and thus all is Fish that sutes with his Conveniency and Advantage.

I'm sure this would be to play the Canary, if we did so at Sea: One that bubbles the Fatherless and Widow (as I heard he did the Intant King of Spain and his Mother) I've done with him; it's well we have a Ditch between us and his Monsieurship; but prithee what's their opinion of us in England?

I'le promise thee, very mean; one of them tells the World in Print, we are a sort of Animals that have no Faith, Religion, Honesty, or Justice amongst us; that we are Cruel, Foolish, Gluttonous, and Proud to the highest deg [...] that we are great Braggers, little Doers, sit for no war [...] Action, but for a rubber at Cuffs, and the Bear-Garden, &c.

He could not well say worse in so few words; t [...] have forgot (it seems) we were once fit for someth [...] when one or two of our Kings were Crown'd at Par [...] Well, there's no love lost; I'm sure the Moors and all [...] ­bary have the same opinion of the French that we and Europe have; That the are Base and Perfidious in their [...] ture, false to their Word, Peace-breakers, Lustful, and Rev [...] ful beyond any Creatures, treacherous in their friendship, B [...] and Ʋnmerciful when they are uppermost, cringing and faw [...] when they are down; in fine, a Generation of Fidlers and [...] r [...]kemakers, and wandering remnants of the Itch and [...] Baba Hamed, my Patroon, used to say, the French [...] were an Army of Painted Flies, of much noise, and little stren [...] that insensibly spread their Maggots where ever they came, [...] that he hoped e're long to see the Vermin confin'd to their [...] Country. And I hope that those who have almost sunk [...] Great Turk himself, may yet bring his Friend by the But to return to our point, what's thy opinion of this F [...] Have they good Gunners?

Let me see, how stands the wind? it veres Eastern where it stood so long before and after the late Engage­ment, that scarce a French man but had bewray'd him [...] (what with their new Wines, and more for fear) lest [...] English and Dutch should have born upon them; for let [...] tell thee, Tom, they came not to fight, if they could h [...] done their job by any other slight of [...]and; they are ready at Pimper le Pimp as at Fire and Gun-powder. [...] for the Men, they are poor, three-penny fac'd Fellows, go Leg'd, shrivel'd shoulders, feeble Knee'd, and look m [...] like Taylors and Garden-weeders than Se [...]men; and ca [...] we but once to grapple, thee and I could clear a wh [...] Deck of them; they look very squeamish, as if they [...] lished not Salt-water, but would rather be any where th [...] at home, to pay two thirds of their daily labour to the gre [...] Leviathan. As for their Gunners, they are Men trained [...] in the wild-fire Schools at Thoulon and Brest, which fu­nish'd those Masters of the Art of Burning to Genoua, Algie [...] and Germany, and sent us that famous Guy Fauz Gunner [...] the late Powder plot; and they were all Disciples of that Ign [...] ­tius Chief of the Jesuits, who (his Name tells thee) w [...] himself a Fire-master.

What, came they not to fight, say'st thou? Or wou [...] they have blinded our eyes with Gold-dust, and wheedle the Mayors in the West (as they did the Mayor of Messing with a dose of Loüis d'Ors to deliver up their Towns? Bu [...] these Monsieurs, like Old Nick, draw Men in, and the leave them in the lurch; and no Creature so despicable [...] he that betrays his Country à la mode de France: And remember in my last Straits-Voyage, how scornfully ever Cur up'd with his Leg and piss'd upon those turn-coat Sicilian [...] who swallow'd the Yellow Bait, and suffer'd the Monsieur to cach their whole Kingdom in his Net. God save old Eng­land! I hope yet to see them taught an English Jigg, and cut many a cross Caper 'tween this and the Lands End [...] Ha, up-Boys! all hands abaft! we must whip the Monsieur out of our Seas, and make him, like a Crab, crawl back­wards to his own Creeks.

God save our King and Queen! our wooden Walls, our true Sons of Neptune, and our honest Tar-Boys; I hope to see the day yet Monsieur must shrug and cringe (as for­merly) for leave to fish for a few Soals in our Seas.

Well fare Queen Bess, that kept his Nose to the Grind­stone, that he durst not lay the Carcass of a Ship upon the Stocks without her permission; and well fare that day that Forty English Ships fought Eighty French, and hamstrung them so, that none escap'd to carry the news of their defeat.

Chear up, Lad; we'll pay them now I hope for their good service in 1672, in standing by, and looking on with­out firing a Gun.

Ay, and for that cast of their Office, in firing Ships, Guns, and all at Chatham in 1666; to say nothing of that Firing between the Monument and Temple-Bar, which (if all be true) proceeded from the warm Zeal and Affection that these French Fire-masters bore to our City; which may per­haps yet find a time to return them their Complement. But hold! here comes our Noble Captain, aboard whom we are to serve.

I'le swear he promises well; he treads firm, and has the plain, bold look of an English Seaman.

And I'le swear he's no Up-start Sea-weed; he's no sucking Tar; none of those Meal-pated, Whifling Damnee's, but is as well a season'd Lad as any in the Fleet. And so let's clap more Sails to our heels, else he'll be aboard be­fore us.