COMING not long ſince into a Coffee-houſe, I happen'd to ſeat my ſelf at a Table with three or four that were very eager in Diſcourſe, and I ſoon found you was the Subject. One that pretended to have read your Books, and had enjoy'd ſome of your Converſation, would not be perſuaded but that the glimps of Knavery was eaſily diſcoverable through your Fool's Dreſs, and that there lay ſome bad Deſign lurking at the bottom; whilſt another thought it was too natural to be a Diſguiſe, and that you had no occaſion for a Mask to act that part: a third, to reconcile the other two, would needs have you a Compound of both. Theſe Comments drew from me my Opinion, which was, That you had too much Learning for a Fool, and too little Wit for a Knave, but was ſtark ſtaring Mad, had got off your Shackles, and deſerted the College. And to this, upon mature deliberation, they ſeem'd to aſſent, and very affectionately began to pity your Condition. What thanks I ſhall have for my pains, I know not, I doubt but little; eſpecially ſhould you chance to be of the ſame mind with one not long ſince try'd for Murder, who when ſome of his Friends would have inſinuated to the Court, that he was non compos mentis, in order to ſave him, contradicted it, and was very angry at the Reproach; he ſtood upon Rep— and would rather be hang'd than be thought a Mad man (I'm ſure had I been one of his Jury, I ſhould have found him ſo) and if you are in the ſame Caſe with that Gentleman, (notwithſtanding all your Invectives againſt the Party) you'l be found a rank Antinomian, for you will be out of the reach of the Law.

And now I'm mentioning the Antinomians, by the way I cannot but give you a hint of your horrid Character of Dr. Criſp (whoſe Memory deſerves reſpect for his Piety) and your abominable ridicule of the Work of Converſion,Second New Year's Gift, p. 14. and ſo on. in Salem Ben Sholomoh the Jew, in ſuch fulſom Language, that he that has the largeſt extent of Charity, can hardly judg you to have undergone the Operation.

And indeed that Conſideration takes off ſome of the ſurprize raiſed by your ſcurrilous, 2d Friendly Epiſtle to G. Keith, p. 15. &c. baſe and profane Reflections upon the Adminiſtration, and Adminiſtrators of an Ordinance of God. If they are in the wrong, they ought to be us'd with Candor, and Civility, and not to be burleſqu'd, and ſo ſcandalouſly reproach'd with ill Language, 2d Friendly Epiſtle, p. 30. and falſe Stories, eſpecially by one who has expreſs'd ſo great a Reſpect for 'em.

Ludere cum Sacris, was ever abhorr'd by all meer Moraliſts; and ſhall one of the Miniſterial Function be guilty of it? A Man that would be thought ſo mightily gifted that way, that he takes the Liberty to find fault with, and run down almoſt, all as parcel of Pulpit Quacks: One that will undertake to bring up a Boy of twelve Years old to preach better than moſt of the Baptiſts about the Town, &c. And ſayſt thou ſo Sam? Then thou art like ſome clumſy-heel'd Dancing-maſters, that can teach their Scholars to perform better than themſelves; for thou never didſt mount the Pulpit in thy Life yet, without proving the truth of a ſaying that is often in thy Mouth, viz. That it is not ſo eaſy a thing to Preach, as ſome people think it to be.

Perhaps you will not believe me, neither indeed can I reaſonably expect you ſhould, when I conſider the good Opinion you have of your ſelf; but, Sir, tho Self-conceit may have a very prevalent ſway in the Concavity of your Cranium, 'tis ſtrange it ſhould ſprout out in ſuch Self-applauſe as both your Books and Diſcourſes are continually larded with; 2d New Year's Gift to the Criſpians, p. 13, 14. 2d Friendly Epiſtle to G. Keith, p. 19. eſpecially, that being one of the great Crimes laid upon Mr. Baxter by your ſelf, and for which you ſo ſeverely laſh'd him. Pray read over that part of your Book againſt Baxter which touches upon that Subject, and learn to chaſtize your ſelf thro the ſides of another.

I remember ſome time ſince, when Mr. Jacobs ſaid, The Baptiſts went down into the Water with the Women only to feel 'em, &c. your Spirit was very warm, and you mighty zealous in upbraiding him for it, and could ſay, (nay, and print it too) none but a Debauchee would have been guilty of ſuch ſtuff: ſo that your laſt Book calls you Debauchee to your Face, and we dare believe it in that, tho not in many things elſe.

I could not have expected from a Man of your Years (and a Conjunction Copulative too) ſuch things as are charg'd upon you, had I not heard that your Wife (and in that ſhe's a happy Woman) muſt lie alone (and has done ever ſince her Reign ended, and your Tyranny began) you having ſomething to teach the young Men in Bed.

Either Phyſicians are in the wrong, when they ſay 'tis unwholſom, or ſome People don't do well to adviſe the young Men to lie upon their Backs, with their hands by their Sides, whilſt they read Lectures upon ſome of the outer parts, and ſet the poor things a gog (by their negative Advice) after what they might happily otherwiſe not think of; but I hope they have wit enough to conſider who they make their Confeſſor. How old? how many times? when laſt? &c. are queſtions to be very cautiouſly anſwered, notwithſtanding a promiſe they won't tell.

In ſhort, Sir, there are ſome things buz'd abroad concerning you that are almoſt incredible, and hardly to be imagin'd ſhould be done by ſuch a one as you would be thought, or indeed by any other that had not laid a Cauſtick to his Conſcience, or gotten the Flyflap of Formality to keep away the Flies from ſtinging it. What Man but your ſelf ever had the Face, or could be imagin'd impudent enough to appear in the World againſt the pretended immodeſty of an Ordinance (as you have done) unleſs he could wipe himſelf clean from ſuch Reflections as have oft and again been caſt upon you Sir Flog-well, and ſtill ſtick cloſe to you? Good Pedagogue, you can never pretend your Diſcipline (as you call it) is for the Correction of your Scholars, but rather calculated for the Meridian of your own Diverſion; for what Puniſhment is there in the ſtroak of a Feather, or why ſhould you ring the Bells, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. upon the Boys Bums? Prithee, why ſo many at once? one ſuch Object is enough at a time; ſo many, one would think, ſhould diſtract your weak Opticks, and make you as wild in your Senſes, as you are in your Underſtanding. And indeed, Sir, I cannot forbear finding fault with your Method as well as your Manners, and cenſuring your Prudence as well as your Modeſty (I don't ſay Chaſtity) 'Tis highly reaſonable to think, that young Men of twenty or thirty years of Age, ſhould better be wrought upon by Perſuaſion, than Bum-bruſhing.

But remembring you are a mighty lover of Stories and Verſes (which, as they are ſurreptitiouſly ſcrap'd up here and there, are as odly jumbled together, and profuſely and blunderingly flung away, without Deſign, and to no end in your Books) be pleas'd kindly to accept of ſuch as may chance to drop from my Pen.

A certain Apothecary ſends his Man to adminiſter a Clyſter, that was preſcrib'd by a Phyſician, for a Gentleman his Patient, who was ſorely afflicted with the Headach; the man enters the Gentleman's Chamber, who demands Who's there? anſwer is made, the Apothecary. What has the Doctor order'd me? A Clyſter, A Clyſter! quoth the Gentleman, you Villain, you Raſcal, the Doctor's a Fool to ſend a thing to put in my A— to cure my Head, and ſo drove him out of the Room. What Lines of Communication you have found out between the Head and Tail of a Scholar, I know not; but it ſeems very prepoſterous to ſuppoſe, that diminiſhing the podicical Covering, ſhould increaſe the Underſtanding. I doubt Birch-Clyſters don't work kindly: A Patient's Fancy does very much aſſiſt the Doctor's endeavours; and therefore I doubt you have but little ſucceſs in your Practice, becauſe your Patients cannot be perſuaded into a good Opinion of their Phyſick, for they have a natural averſion to pain. I find you are one of Co—atch's followers, your Medicines are all Acids.

And now, Sir, having conſidered your Caſe, I find Diſtraction the beſt excuſe I can make to my ſelf and others, for theſe enormous excurſions of your nonintellectuals; which makes me a little commiſerate your Caſe, and heartily adviſe you in your very next interval, to read Dr. Echard's Letter to the Author of Hieragoniſticon, and uſe his Preſcriptions; they exactly hit your Caſe; pray don't neglect it, delays being dangerous: He ſays you muſt avoid all hot things, as Coffee and Tobacco (and I believe not without reaſon, for they are apt to dry up the Brain, and when things are too dry they will crack) but above all you muſt avoid writing Books, till you find the Diſtemper pretty well aſſwag'd, and then too but moderately, for fear of a Relapſe. But if you can't forbear till then, pray whatever you write in your fit (which is but all you write) read over in an interval before it goes to the Preſs, and then I doubt not they will all receive their fate as truly (tho not as duly) as if they were burnt by the hands of the common Hangman.

Indeed ſome of thoſe already publiſh'd have anſwered the end propos'd, 2d and laſt New Years Gift to the Criſpians, page 11. and have prov'd good Phyſick. A Friend of mine lays 'em in a convenient Place, where the reading one Leaf is a gentle Purge, and then 'tis ſent after the Operation; the fitteſt uſe they can be put to. And, Sir, was there no other reaſon why they ſhould ſuffer, but becauſe they are too bold and ſaucy with their Author, that was enough: for while they are Jeſters to others, they make a jeſt of him.

You ſeem in all your Writings to drive very hard for the Buſkins; but, I muſt tell you, they are too noble an Ornament to adorn your Farce; for what you write is as much below that reproved Author, as a Bartholomewfair Droll is below Seneca's Tragedies.

I muſt acknowledg you have hammer'd hard for a little Wit to divert the World, and therefore the World's very ungrateful it won't accept the Will for the Deed; and 'tis really very hard that you ſhould print Books at your own Charge, and be at the Expence both of Purſe and Brain to pleaſe, and all in vain: yet you have this comfortable Solace in the experience you have gain'd, you have found out the beſt way of putting off your Books of any Man in England. I am told, that when you was, not long ſince, chewing the Cud, without dividing the Hoof, in Noah's Ark (as you call it) you was telling a Story of a Man that cry'd Pears, twelve, ſixteen, twenty a Penny, and none would buy, till at laſt he cry'd Pears for nothing, and then he ſoon empty'd his Basket; ſo (ſaid you) is it with my Books. Why Sam! what an unhappy Fellow art thou to lay the Rod in the way thus? For who, do you think, won't reply, the reaſon why the Pears would not ſell, was, becauſe they were not good?

I remember a Paſſage I once met with in a Dramatick Poem call'd, The Folly of Prieſt▪craft. Father Politico (who bears the Character of a plotting, intriguing Prieſt) orders his Man Manuel to read the Intelligences which he had receiv'd out of the Country, what Men there were in the ſeveral Counties that were fit Tools to work with, in building up the Catholick Cauſe; and among the reſt, There is a Fellow of a broad Face, and no Brains, the want of which is ſupply'd by a great ſtock of Impudence, which enables him to rail againſt Popery in Billingſgate Language, without two grains of Senſe or Reaſon— He gets a good quantity of Money in the Year, and preaches in a little Shed at the end of his Houſe. Then mark him down (ſays Politico) and ſend an hundred Pounds to make his Shed bigger; there are more converted to us by hearing bad Sermons againſt Popery, than by hearing good ones for it. Whether this is worthy the Conſideration of your Antagoniſts, muſt be left to them, and how far the Story reacheth their Caſe. But I am very apt to think, ſhould they be at the Charge of printing all you write (rather than you ſhould be ſilent) it would prove for the good of the Cauſe you oppoſe; and one of your Books againſt any Opinion, will make more Converts to it, than ten good Books writ for it.

I find, old Iſhmael, you are reſolv'd to keep us in uncertainty to what Party you belong, and make us think you are a Man of no Religion, by your quarrelling with all as wrong. I did believe you a Presbyterian (if any thing) till I met with thoſe ſcurrilous Sarcaſms upon the two great Men of the Age of that Perſuaſion, 2d New Years Gift for the Criſpians, p. 35, 36. Dr. B—s and Mr. H—w. 'Tis mean and pitiful to rake the Aſhes of the Dead, as you do of the Doctor, (you know the old ſaying, De mortuis nil niſi bonum) but 'tis intolerable to ſtamp 'em with Falſities. I can find no truth in what you would inſinuate, tho I have often endeavour'd it, and can make no ſhift to free it from the name of a Lie, but that it is too groſs to deceive. And I doubt not but you thought your ſelf a fitter Man to ſpeak to the King, in the name of the Diſſenters, than he that did it (whom the World knows to be a learned Man, and needs no Encomium from any but his own Works) as you have often implicitely ſeem'd to aſſert. That would have been the ready way to have reviv'd the obſolete name of Fanatick, and to have given the King juſt cauſe to reflect upon on the Liberty given to Madmen, as he muſt have judg'd them by their Repreſentative.

You needed not to have taken the trouble to acknowledg your ſelf a Man of but little Prudence, as you do in the thirty ſecond page of your ſecond New-Years-Gift, for I never yet could meet with the Man thought you had any.

You tell us a Story, William Pen and the Quakers, either Impoſtors or Apoſtates, p. 30. that a Quaker Woman coming into a Church, and diſturbing it by her ſpeaking, was ask'd by a Boy, Who ſent her there that Day? ſhe reply'd, God; No, ſaid the Boy, then you would not have ſpoken ſo many things contrary to the Scriptures; neither can I imagine the Devil ſent thee, for I thought he had more wit than to ſend ſuch a Fool about his Work: and the Quaker never diſturb'd 'em afterward. Who ſent you I cannot determine. but I wiſh the recital of your own Story may have the ſame Effect upon you, and keep you from making any farther diſturbance by your fooliſh Scrible. Could you look a little into your own Conſtitution, that would mightily help towards it, for there — You'd find Your Body made for Labour, not your Mind.

I fear, ſhould it come to be known who is the Author of this Letter, by any of the Judicious, I ſhall incur their Diſpleaſure; moſt are apt to think that you aim at nothing more than the honour of being thought worth anſwering, and would be glad of having any thing writ againſt you, to introduce ſomething more of your incontinent Scrible into the World. Should it prove ſo in this, I heartily beg their Pardon, and hope I ſhall never again be guilty of Midwifeing any of your Brats, or be the Cauſe of provoking you to plague the World with more of your Stuff. Indeed if you'l be as good as your word, I need not much fear it in this Cauſe, for you tell us, 2d Friendly Epiſtle to G. Keith, fol. 20, 34▪ That you never intend to write one word more upon this Subject (that is, of Baptiſm) unleſs a Reply by any worthy Divine or Scholar of theirs makes it neceſſary. Can you think, or ſuppoſe, a worthy Divine, and a Scholar, to be without any thing elſe to do, than to trouble his Head about you? and till then you cannot expect any one ſhould; beſides, Man, ſuch a one would as much ſcorn to draw a Pen againſt thee, as a well bred Gentleman to draw his Sword upon a naked Cit.

I underſtand you threaten very hard any that ſhall dare to appear in Print againſt you, and yet you ſee 'tis done. In the name of him you ſhall happen to pitch upon to rail at, as the Author of this Letter, I ſend you defiance in ſix Lines of Sir Carr Scroop to my Lord Rocheſter, upon his Lordſhip's having written ſomething againſt him.