[Page 2]deed is this strictly so, for it is no more than the Old mad Humor of the Cobler of Gloce­ster new Vampt.

And lest you may not per­haps have seen enough by the Books themselves I have (at your desire) sent you, I shall take a little pains to give you my Sense of the present sort of Writing, to shew you (as sea­sonable to your Young and In­conversant Years) the Ridicu­lousness, Incivility, and Inhu­manity of it, in a few short and sober Reflexions on this Publick Piece of Folly, which does but indeed render us the mere Ludibrium and May-game [Page 3] of Strangers, it is a fashi­on so illy introduced among us.

It is a Vitious sort of Buf­foonry, that this mistaken Age is ready to cry up for a high acquir'd Ornament) and Piece of Refin'd Education, while a sober Judgment, or modest In­nocence, is as much mistook, and exploded for meer Dul­ness and Ignorance. He that can abuse another handsomely, is presently applauded for a shrewd Wit, a notable Man, which indeed imports no bet­ter than an abusive K— as a good harmless honest Man is but the better word for a Fool.

[Page 4]It is indeed, Sir, much my satisfaction, that your Retir'd inclination hath so happily set­led you, (for your seasoning time) so commodiously re­mote from the Corrupt Con­verse of a great part of this In­fectious Town: And I assure you, that I think it altogether my Duty to be as careful that no Contagious Subjects come intrudingly to your hands; and would also advise you to be as cautious of receiving any, as many were of London-Let­ters the last Great Pestilence here amongst us.

Pray take this Advice as from a Friend that most un­feignedly [Page 5] Loves and Tenders you; and be sure ever to Choose your Bookes as you would your Acquaintance, (i. e.) let them be few, choise, and reputable.

You cannot well complain you want good Company, when you are not withont good Au­thors to converse with; and that too at the best Advantage, (as I take it) their Writings being for the most part much the best of them, compar'd with their common converse and per­sonal society.

When you are soberly con­templative, your Companion is [Page 6] still at hand to entertain your Humor; when your thoughts incline you another way, then have you others to divert you; and when you are weary of all, at last you may take down A­pollo's Lute, and refresh your fancy with the most pleasing, and not unprofitable, strains of Poetry, English or others.

But truly to Buy or Read these Cudgel-playing Books, is but to make Billings-gate your Diversion; or to know the best way how to give bad Lan­guage: 'tis no better than downright Railing, Frenchisi'd into Raillerie a la mode.

[Page 7]Beside the smart Itch of Writing and Replying in this New Canting Drolling Way, made up of a few fugitive Ex­pressions, I am sure he that gives himself up to this, must at once licentiously let go the Rains of his Sobriety, Reason, and Religion, to play at Have at All; or to Write in a Re­fined sort of Frenzy: For let his Rodamantadoes and Bom­bast be but unreachably Re­mote, or Far-fought, (as we commonly say) and it will want nothing to make it off; provided the Bookseller be but Wise.

To be Witty at this Rate, [Page 8] is certainly very Poor, Pitiful, as well as Spightful, for any one to signalize himself by, because every one that will (sans regard) assume this abo­minable abusive Liberty, may as easily attain the accomplish­ment (if any will have it one) for as much as Mens Wits are naturally readier at this than any other Theme: Yet though the Ape be never so curiously trick'd up, he is still but the same: so let such Works be set out in never so quaint Lan­guage, yet what are they bet­ter then unsavory Breaths per­fum'd? a more precious kind of stink in the Nostrils of ei­ther the Judicious or Good; [Page 9] and smell still too much of the Dunghil Declamations of the Schools; studied Oppositions, though by some they may be said smart or witty, yet the or­der of their Design, or Matters wherewith they meddle, are very little Just or Conforma­ble to the Precepts of good Morality, Humanity, or Chri­stianity, in any degree; and so base and degenerate a Genius, ought utterly to be abandon'd by the sober and civil sort of Mankind, and of all that pro­sess and love Virtue, as dissen­taneous to the right Rules of true Generosity; and as much beneath that Grandeur of a Christians high Profession, which [Page 10] teaches Men not to revile and slander one another; and fore­warns them from being Busie-bodies in other Mens matters.

Some Men, in the heat of Humor, while the letcherous Itch lasts, care not who they Traduce or Reflect upon, so they can but do it handsomely in huggermugger. Kings and Privy Councellors cannot scape them. But could you peep through the Key-hole while he is in close Adultery (in his Study) with his Wanton Muse, and let but a Mouse, or the least Noise stir, how he obrupty starts, and rumples up the Naughty Sheets in more [Page 11] haste and confusion than the Gallant shifts the Scene of his private Debaucheries upon a dangerous surprize! and when all is whist, is presently at it again.

When 'tis once delivered, 'tis presently pawn'd upon the Publick, like a Brat upon the Parish, the Incognito Parent standing by to observe how 'tis received; who railes, with the rest, against that, which shame and danger dares not let him own for fear of Penance, or a Whipping-post.

But 'twere with such highly ridiculous, to ask in St. Paul's [Page 12] Language, What Profit have ye of those Things whereof ye are now Ashamed?

And in vain may we expect common Civility from those that are not afraid or ashamed (at these dayes) irreverently to scoff at, and impiously to detract those most Princely Pre­sidents of Piety in holy Writ, David and Solomon. The lewd and Venereous Person, (who makes his Body a Burnt-offer­ing to his inflamed Lust) seeks to acquit and justifie himself with this Plea, and to seem wittily wicked, asks you, What did David ail when he complain­ed of his Bones, and his Sore [Page 13] ran down in the Night? Give him grave and sober Advice, or but go about to stop him in his Career of Folly, and he presently pleads Solomon; and will purchase convince­ment at no cheaper a rate, than the dangerous high Price of Experience. He builds Scon­ces, and runs on Tavern-scores, and then Pleades that Paul Pawn'd his Cloak, &c.

At this prophane and paltry rate he seeks to purchase the repute of witty: he out-Huffs Hell, out-Hectors Beelzebub, and can dispence with the Name of Atheist, if he be not proud on't, and openly own and glory in it.

[Page 14]This is one that with little Fear, and less Wit, will still be at his Ludere cum Sacris; that dare be impudent with Heaven, and sawcy with its most awful Majesty, to the Hearers astonishment, and his own shameful confusion; that, like an over-daring Vaulter, will forsooth be shewing tricks of Activity upon the very Brink and Precipice of Hell; and play at Hide and Seek with the Devil himself, till at last he catches him in his Clut­ches, as the Cat does her wan­ton Prey, and so spoiles his Sport on a suddain.

But let's leave him to the [Page 15] Iustice of that Power his Folly thus inconsiderately provoked; and Sir let me Advise you to shun the Society of such, lest you share in their Punishment, and as you would escape the infamous Censure you will thereby fall under, alwayes taking it for sure, That you shall go under the same Ac­count and Character of the Company you consort with, since the World hath ever look'd upon this Rule as in­fallible.

And now Sir, passing this, and to come nearer home to my purpose, I shall briefly ob­serve to you, how profuse and [Page 16] heedless Men now a dayes are of their own and others Fame or Reputation, (too valuable to be thrown or made away in sport) while they thus publick­ly traduce, detract and asperse one another, as they do both in word and writing; which latter I shall chiefly take no­tice of, and look upon as a Libel of the Devils Dictature, such Writers being set on by pure Idleness, the Primum mo­bile of all Mischief.

What is there in it else but a meer Itch of Spleen, edg'd on by the hope of building up a new Credit upon another Mans Weakness.

[Page 17]A Leap-Frog Fancy of Wri­ting Alternis Vicibus, by fits and girds, as the Humor hits, or holds out to the hap-hazard of the adventurous Bookseller, but the adornment of Posts and Pissing-places, worthy of no further regard or notice, then the Printed Bills for Prizes at the Bear-Garden, be­ing at best but a Trial of Skill another way, where both sides beat up and flourish as Victors; but set no sharper an edge ei­ther on their Wits or Wea­pons, than what will well serve to cut your Purse-strings, the whole aim of these cheating Challengers▪ which if the [Page 18] overcurious Widgins of the World will not believe, but will be still couzen'd thus with this Hocus Pocus Humor, let them, I say; but (my good Friend) I hope you will take my word, and be wiser.

Nor do I indeed much doubt or question your discretion, I understand you, and you your self better: And the best on't is, such Books, besides making the Authors ridiculous, do sel­dom prejudice the Readers more than with loss of time; nor so altogether, for sure (if he have any sense) he shall grow wiser by the folly repre­sented [Page 19] him, as Drunkards sometimes loathe themselves by beholding it soberly in others.

Can we term it less than a shameless incivility in such as would go about to oblige the World (whether it will or no) to take notice of their Private Picques and Controversies, which with a great deal of pudder they publickly expose to common Censure; nor can it be thought less in those that are the busie Pryers into these publick Impertinencies, the very Reading of which is a kind of unhappiness, but a [Page 20] Revisal both Guilt and Ap­probation.

Certainly as long as this odd mood lasts of taking up one anothers Works in this Nature, we must never look to see Ingenuity flou­rish, for our growing Wits will be afraid to put forth, while the early Blossomes of their best Endeavors are still in danger to be publickly bla­sted by the vituperous Breath of every malepert Momus, who like the Basilisk, strikes dead all he sees at first sight, and whose whole stress of Wit strives only to stiflle others; [Page 21] and such are well set forth by the Ingenious (and therefore envy'd) Pen of the sam'd Dry­den in this single Couplet of his:

Away then with this ill-na­tur'd, disingenious, fault-find­ing Humor, and be favorable to the failings of others, as ever you expect Men may in kindness connive at your fail­ings or imperfections; when they happen Humanum est er­rare, [Page 22] 'tis liable to all in some things, but especially to such as either write much, or vari­ously often; and ought not with an over-rigid Censure to be too severely insisted on; for this doth but breed vain jangling; for as one ill word begets another, so (we see) doth one abusive Book ano­ther, till they even puzzle, as well as weary the whole World with reading the bare Titles of them.

One Book beares the Bell away one while, and then pre­sently comes out Reflections, Observations, Answers, Repli­cations, [Page 23] and Exceptions upon it, till the Press is so bepestred with them, that at last the Sheets grow more numerous than the long Books and Pa­pers of a Chancery Cause, which are as pertinent and worthy of publishment as the first, (for ought I know) and in time may both serve to one and the same use (after the World and the Court have dismiss'd the Controversie and Brangle) in a Grocers or a Chandlers Shop.

If any such Book have in­truded into your Study, let them be turned out for Wranglers, as unfit to keep [Page 24] Company with the quiet and civiler sort.

Or take my advice, and change 'em away quickly while the humor holds up, for others more pleasant and profitable, though (you lose well by 'em) before the Gamesters have cross'd the Cudgels,, and the Ring-round world leaves min­ding them: As some tough and sturdy Trojans, after much belabouring one another, have long since done. — Laus Deo.

Our Laureat himself cannot escape Calumny, (though I [Page 25] must confess he too much dar'd it) that Reward of Wit (Sa­cred to Poets) he finds could not defend him from the blast of a Criticks Breath. In spight of Apollo's self they will attaque him; some thinking to be re­puted Wits for only impudent­ly daring to meddle with it.

Thus was he (for sooth) taken to Task, Post-poned, and there Lash'd on both sides by the two, too unkind Uni­versities, Oxford first taking him up, while his Mother Cambridge Chastised him se­verely. In the first place, for forgetting his old Grammer Rules. So rigidly strict were [Page 26] they to keep him to the scru­pulous Precepts of their (long since exploded) Pedantry, befet­tering his fugitive fancy in the Poetick Transport, that he should not hereafter Sore be­yond the near Ken of their slow and short sighted Genius; and next for abusing his Grandsire Shakespeare, and Father Ben, and being very sawcy with o­thers of his Elders. But he is hush and done, say they, while they seem to hold a little Rod, made up of a few Stalks of dis­junctive sense, they had spight­fully spoil'd the beautifull Bed of his best Flowers off, & pick'd out to lash him with. And fain would they have confin'd his [Page 27] Licentious Muse (as they brand her) to her Nunnery: But they since may see how briskly she turns up her Vail, and with a modest scorn acquaints them in the words of her Heroe. ‘That he hath neither con­cernment enough upon him to write any thing in his own Defence; neither will he gratifie the Ambition of two wrethed Scriblers, who desire nothing more than to be answered:’ Finding he wanted not Friends, even a­mong Strangers, who defend­ed him more strongly, than his contemptible Pedant could Attaque him.

[Page 28]By this becoming scorn you see how he prevents them from further undertaking against him, when (like a Morose or Frumpish odd Fellow, bob'd in the Street with a by-word) had he turned again he would have had half the Town hoot­ing at him. Thus he shews more Wit in his slight and si­lence, then possibly he ever would by his Pen when it per­forms best; though I truly believe that he is able to make those piece-meal Features, which his over curious Criticks examine so illy apart, to appear in their right place and posi­tion, no less then what him­self says, as so many real [Page 29] Beauties in the Eye of such as are able to judge and admire the true perfections of a Muse.

Sir, I speak this because I know you have always had a just value for Mr. Dryden's Poems, as well as my self, and I have believed you very dis­cerning this way; and so he cannot easily be brought low in your esteem; you too well perceiving the Design of his Enemies without more words.

But to inform you further, having, Sir, lately the leisure of an Afternoon, I took oc­casion to go among the Book­sellers [Page 30] to enquire what else there was newly extent: I chopt upon an an Adventurous Au­thor, who had took on him to write Remarques on the Hu­mour and Conversation of the Town; which had not been long abroad, but it was seized upon by the sharp Claw of a Critick, and by him Stigmati­zed with the Name of Re­marques upon Remarques. I was unwilling, and thought it vain to read one without the other, and so thought best to buy neither.

But the Bookseller would still impose further on me, and presents me with another new piece, called the Rehearsal [Page 31] Transpros'd, &c. a Title I un­derstood not I confess: But see­ing it a thing that had twice troubled the Press, and ha­ving the Booksellers word that it was worth reading, I took it. But having spent my time and Money upon it, all I could say was, I found my self very Wittily beguil'd of both: But (believe me) I think I might as well have read Tom of Lin­coln, or Bevis of Southampton, for ought I edified by it, and would pay thanks to boot to any little Boy to change with me.

Yet truly I must confess, Wit there was in it, but like a [Page 32] Iewel in the Dunghill of De­traction, not worth the Gene­rous and Ingenious Mans ra­king for. But the Crab-tree Stock of some Mens Humours will bear no better Fruit; yet methinks they should not then carry their sower Sentences to the Press, they seem so little serviceable or seasonable, and cannot be counted Solo­mons Apples. But some Mens petulant Homours incline them still to transpose the Proverb, which says, 'Tis better to be at the latter end of a Feast, than the beginning of a Fray.

Now you must understand Transprosal is the little a la Mode Word that at present obtains [Page 33] and has of late made such a deal of Gingle Gangle abroad, by the help of Transprosing. The Rehearsal Transpros'd (Answer) the Transproser Rehearsed, &c. But how extreamly pleasant is it to observe how wittily the Transproser turns Transposer, and finds himself sport at Tick Tack for half a Dozen Pages together, and all with two poor Letters [ I. and O.] I warrant the Man has a most extraordinary fancy at Com­posing Anagrams and Acro­sticks, and is excellent at Wire­drawing Wit, that can so prit­tily play with two Letters so long, and they happened to be lucky ones for his turn.

[Page 34]Every one will have a bob at Bayes, though alas he is not likely he get a wreath of it, for the Wit he lays out upon it. And now the yelp is up, 'stoo him Bayes Cries one; Hollo Bayes Cries a second, Whoop Bayes a third, enough to worry one out of his Wits. I cannot tell what better to compare it to, than like the clapping and scolding of a ragged-canting Crew of Bil­lingsgate Rhetoricians, or those of Rosemary Lane, where if any will once but give the Cue of one Word pro­vocative, he shall presently hear a full Peal of most ex­quisite Harmony indeed. You [Page 35] shall not meet with a Term so mild as Gregory Father Gray Beard; they could have furnish­ed him with a Title ten times more Taking, ( ex Tempore) and possibly more intelligible too. But hang't, let it pass, it comes all to one purpose.

Having thus given you some hints of this hatefull Humour, I would fain draw to a close with my Discourse, there re­mains only a few Cautionary Remarques to direct you in your choise of Men. And what your own Judgment will re­present to you, will render the rest odious enough to your generous mind, without any further reflections.

[Page 36]If we consider the mischief as well as degenerosity of this Destructive Humour among Men, either in Words or Writing, we would certain­ly shun it with greatest desta­tion.

As then you have any re­spect for your own Peace and Quiet, endeavour still to keep your self unconcerned from impertinent listening after▪ or prying into private or publick Reports of this sort; for that you must either betray, or in­evitably bring in question your Friendship if you con­ceal it; or if perhaps on the other side you impart it, you [Page 37] but kindle Coals of contenti­on, and beget private grudges and heart-burnings, and make your self in a mannner bound either to accuse or vindicate, and had therefore much better to be deaf and dumb in such concerns in both Offices.

Be sure therefore to shew no kind of Countenance to such as can find no other means to screw themselves in to your opinion and favour, than by this treacherous way of tradu­cing others to you.

[Page 38]Nor would I have you o­ver apt to lissen to, or trust him that fain would be tickling you with adulatory praise of your parts and qualities; es­pecially if the Party be a stran­ger to you, and one that you never any ways had obliged before; for 'tis common with some sort of men to put on a fawning familiarity upon the first Acquaintance they have with any one, to make lavish offers of Friendship and service to you. Sir, (I say) take good heed of such a one, least there be (as 'tis odds if there be not) some Sting of Design at the end of their Tail.

[Page 39]Besides, what can sound more harsh or untunable in the Ear of the generous, wise or modest, than to hear an En­comiastick Harangue or Elogy of Praise personally addrest to his Face. Musick fit for none but Fools to caper at; alas! they must be but silly Trouts, that will be so tickled to death. The saying of Tully ought to be every true Gentle­man's; Nolo esse lauditor, ne vi­dear Adulator. Now (for ought you know) this great Praise may be but Ironice prodere Fa­mam; the Man that speaks so & so, may possibly mean nothing less, but the quite contrary; but be sure he that hath any [Page 40] Sense, will not be imposed on at this rate; but will soon find it out, and know how to re­tort it in the like Language.

But on the other side, where this kind of Flattery on both sides takes, as said, sadly, re­ally, and indeed, then can­not there be more pleasant Diversion, than to see two Asses bray out Applauses to one another. This is Mulus mulum scabit, or Kee me, and I'le kee thee, as the old Proverb speaks. But certain it is, none can be flattered of another, till he first flatter himself.

One may observe a sort of [Page 41] Natural Rhetorick, even a­mong the Common Professors of the Art of Railling; they have their Figures, Graces, and Ornaments peculiar to their kind of Speech, though they do not distinguish or use them Grammatically, by the Names of Sarcasmus, Asteismus, Mi­cterismus, Antiphrasis, Chari­entismus, or Ironia, yet have they their Dry Bobs, their Broad Flouts, Bitter Taunts, their Fleering Frumps, and Privy Nips. Besides the use of their admirable Art of Cant­ing, they have a cunning way of Jeering, accusing others by justifying themselves, and say­ing, I never did— or by asking [Page 42] the Question general, Who did so and so? Why who did you Whore cries 'tother? did I? and so the Game begins; but by this evasive way of A­buse they will be sure to keep wide off the Law's Tenter­hooks.

Thus you see there is none can come out Master of this Art that hath not been brought up at Billingsgate, for only there are found the best Pro­ficients of this kind, which while some of our Authors are but the bashful Imitators; alas, see how far they fall short of the true force and ef­ficacy that is to be found in [Page 43] the perfection of this Faculty.

But I have deviated a while from my first discourse, giving you the fore-going Reflecti­ons, I now come again to con­sider the end of Writing, and what is most commendable. The principal end of Reading is I am sure to enrich the Mind; and doubtless that is the best Work where the Graces and the Muses meet. But where every Man thinks what he lists, speaks what he thinks, writes what he speaks, and prints what he writes, from such kind of scribling, carried on by a frantick Figgary, I do not well apprehend what Ad­vantage [Page 44] can in the least accrue one way or other to the Rea­ders, either to the enriching their Discourse, or advancing their Knowledg.

Nor is it easie to conceive the drift or design of this odd fantastick way of writing with­out the help of a skilful Inter­preter, they having more need of Notes and a Comment, than the History of Don Quixot, without which you shall be no more able to ap­prehend our Author, than ca­pable to carry off the Intregue of one of our Now-adayes Comedies, so hard it is to force the Poetick Fire out of [Page 45] their flinty Inventions. The Treasury of Wit being of late so close look'd up in the Wild Meanders of our present Mu­ses, that he that has not the Court-key of the newest forge, shall hardly be the better for't.

I cannot tell how this way of Writing comes to be now the Mode that so much ob­tains, I mean of Detracting and Traducing Persons; for I do not remember the Inge­nious Author of the Book cal­led, Reflections upon the Elo­quence of the Bar and Pulpit, so much as once mentions, much less commends this man­ner of writing or speaking, as [Page 46] either modish, modest, or de­cent; but gives this Gentle Lash to the Users of it, That nothing of that kind is enter­tained with effect, when too personally addrest: and that though with civility we may glance at, yet may we not without rudeness and ill man­ners, too openly stare upon the faults or imperfections of any Person.

Detraction is an old Vice, although it be but newly come into request among us again: It was the sin of Haman against Mordecai, of Saul against Da­vid, of Iezabel against Naboth; and there are whole Psalms [Page 47] of Execration for this Sin.

I find an old Poet of ours (Gower) Declaiming against this Vice in this manner.

This honest old Author sets out this Vice in this sort, by way of Admonition.

Now should I go about to Paint a Detractor forth in his proper Colours, or to Draw every Feature of Deformity in his Face, I fear, in the first place, I should find my Ink not Black enough to Paint so Foul a Monster; nor could a Man have Courage enough to Draw the Devil, without the Security of some Good Guar­dian by his side.

But I'le venture on Him; for, as they say, if we can but draw Bloud of Witches, their Envious Intents cease: so if [Page 50] the Nib of my Pen be but sharp-pointed enough to prick to the quick, I need not fear the worst he then can do to me; neither need others, after once they are forewarn'd.

THE CHARACTER OF A Detractor.

A Detractor is a kind of Camelion, that lives upon the worst sort of Air; at first bred up and suckled with sour Sustenance from the lank and flaggy Dugs of his lean and meager Mother Envy, he afterwards feeds on Fame; his words are worse than Poyson of Asps, and are a kind of Witch­craft, so that the Sufferer may justly be said to be under an [Page 52] Evil Tongue. Like one of the wayward Sisters, he spightfully picks the foul and poysonous Weeds out of the fairest Gar­dens of Mens fruitful Labors, wherewith to work his wic­ked Sorceries; with venomous Breath endeavouring to blast the best and fragrant Flowers of Mens Writings, that they may wither in the minds and memories of the World.

He is a sort of turbulent spirited Furiozo, continually foaming out his frothy Passion on all sides, like a malicious old Woman, ever muttering, ex­treamly incensed; he can find none to vouchsafe to vex him, [Page 53] till out of pure spight he is fain, at length, to be himself both Satyr, Answer, and Reply. 'Twould fright you, or him either, to behold his own an­gry Face during the pang of Composure.

He Writes on as Fish-wo­men Rail, without Cessation, or Premeditation; without Patience to Hear, or Time to Deliberate: and Answers, hit or miss, without Perusal, let­ting all the while his Passion boyl over, without ever skim­ing of the filthy Foam that al­wayes arises from the intem­perate Heat of in-kindled Fu­ry.

[Page 54] Erasmus seems to have very well understood the Nature of this Malady amongst Men, and mentions it as if himself had once had some symptomes of it, when he saves, Multi mei similes hoc morbo laborant, ut cum scribere nesciant, tamen a­scribendo temperare non possunt. Many (saith he) are very sick of my Disease, and though they can do nothing worthy of the Publick, yet they must be publishing their (hellish) Humors, fouler than the Ink they write with; and this makes the World abound so with Books. The Teemings of every Term, which deserves a much severer Tax upon every [Page 55] Sheet then there is imposed upon the Law, that so it might at once breed less Trouble, and more Profit to the Press it Plagues.

A Worthy Man DESCRIBED.

A Right Bred, or Worthy Man, will scorn to be so base as to Flatter, and hates to be so Currish as to Bite any any one; so that even his Re­proofs seem kind and generous, and his Wounds do not want their Balsome. You may read his Temper in his Face; he fleers not at a Reproachful Jeer, but shews his dislike in his looks; he stands aloofe when Men Whisper, and is no greedy Listner after Priva­cies; [Page 59] his Tongue never be­trayes his Heart, and Report can find no Eccho in him. When you Lodge in him a Secret, your necessary Cau­tion locks it safe up, and your self keeps the Key. It is his Grief to know a Vice of his Friends, and his Charity he shews in concealing it; he ne­ver over-Praises nor Underva­lues any man, for his Prudence instructs, that the one stirs up Envy, and the other procures contempt. He that can be brought so low as Fear or Flat­tery, must not presume once to own the Forfeited name of Gentleman or Christian.

[Page 60]First he cannot lay claim to the Moral Virtues of Ju­stice, Truth, or Civility, so that he is neither fit to be a Friend or an Umpire in any Affair. Fear and a little meanacing makes him Faulty to Both; nor is he to be Trusted with another Mans Reputation, who has not Courage to defend his own, if questioned. A good Poet says,

He that hath a Cowardly fear within him can never be [Page 61] a true Christian, but like the After-penetent Apostle, he will be apt in time of Trial to give his own Heart the Lye, and Deny the Lord that bought him. He cannot hold the Truth till it wax hot in his Hand, or ever endure a Mar­tyrdom for it: But like the wretched Italian, panting un­der the hasty Threats of a sur­prizing Enemy, (in hopes to save his Life) Belch'd out (as bidden) Horrid Blasphemies, to gratifie the Will of his in­sulting Enemy; till in the midst of them he Stabs the Naked Wretch, and then Brag'd how he had doubled his Revenge, Destroying Soul and [Page 62] Body at one Blow. But this only by way of illustration to clear the last Assertions of the Degenerate Effects of such sure Symptomes of Cowardice and Unchristianity.

I have not yet done with our Detractor, I must take him a little further to Task be­fore I give him over; and ask of him, What Amends he can make to the Party, whose Fame and Repute he hath Pub­lickly Traduc'd and Vilified.

For doubtless if we respect Human Society, there cannot be a more pernicious Ill atend­ing it; 'tis a giving up a Mans [Page 63] Name to perpetual Infamy and Reproach; an irreparable Wrong, towards which the best Amends falls short of Sa­tisfaction. A Blot never to be raz'd out, but by writing the whole fair over again in way of Recantation (Publick Con­fession being ever due to Pub­lick Injuries) and when that's done too, to Retract does not make full Compensation, since he that does it cannot be sure that he who saw his first, shall read his last also.

So that he who offends in this kind, does it not only to his Lifes, but the Worlds end in a Book, which cannot Re­pent; and therefore Reputa­tion [Page 64] once lost is past Retrieve. An ingenious Poet Cautions well to this purpose:

I have read a Fable, how that Reputation, Love, and Death, made a Covenant to travel o're the World, but each was to take a several Way. When they were ready to de­part, mutual Inquiry was made how they might find one ano­ther again. Death said, they should be sure to hear of him in Battels, Hospitals, and in all [Page 65] Parts where either Famine or Diseases are rise. Love bade them hearken after him among the Children of Cottagers, whose Parents had left them nothing, at Marriages, at Feasts, and amongst the professed Ser­vants of Virtue, the only Bond to tye him fast. They long expected a Direction from Reputation, who stood mute; being urg'd to assign them Places where they might find him, he sullenly answered, his Nature was such, that if he de­parted from any Man, he never came to him more. The Mo­ral is excellent to our Subject.

To Display a Mans Malice [Page 66] in Writing, is no less than de­liberate Wickedness, a kinde of Civil Murther prepenc'd; chew'd Bullets that wrankle where they enter; the Plague in Paper, which he that would shun, let him take heed how he comes between the Infectious Sheets.

The Publick Breath of Ca­lumny, like contagious Air, is of late become too Epidemical, though the Infection will not soon taint the sound Constitu­tion of a solid Judgment. The humming Noise of Fame, and the harsh grating of Detractiou, are now the ungrateful sounds that so much Disturb this mu­tinous Town.

[Page 67]The Obscure envy the Emi­nent; as Boys cry, Whip Coach-man, when they can­not Ride as well as others. Ingenuity sure never before knew so many Spightful Spi­der-Pates, which weave Book-leaves of Antick Cobweb-wit, to Catch the Roving-headed Butter-flies of this Age in.

Excuse me Sir, if I have en­larged my Letter too much on this Subject; and do not think I have done it meerly to please my own itch of Writing; for I could never flatter my self into any Opinion of my own Parts, (if I have any:) And be as­sured, that above all things I [Page 68] abhor, and most splēefully laugh at the Publick-spirited Fop, that is Ambitious of the Name of a Reformer; for I have seen so much the serious Folly of that too, that I think it much more fashionable to be of the Laughing than Weeping side of the World; which alas, the more you strive to amend, still the worse you make it.

Thus we see there is no Curb can keep Men within the Modest Bounds of Civi­lity, albeit Those (whose care it is) be never so Cautious to prevent the Inconveniency of putting forth particular Refle­ctions to open Censure, under [Page 69] the lash of every Licentious Pen and Tongue.

But the Press cannot escape without its Errata's, and By­blows, (as we count such Books as we have Treated of to be) the obscure Parents some­times, like counterfeit Gypsies, colouring their Brats over with a Foreign Imprimatur, with a Cant to the Typis, as a Guide to the Gibderish it is fraught withal.

And now Sir, if you please, you may communicate this to such of your Ingenious Ac­quaintance as are Book-buy­ers, that they (as well as you) [Page 70] may be made more sensible of the present Spawn of our Fan­tastick Fry of Town-Wits, and rest satisfied without buying any more till this Freake be worn out of Fashion, as I heartily wish it were. And so, without more ado, (save on­ly to wish a Return of these Men well to their Wits again) I bid you for this time Fare­well.