THIS many a day I have had a Wambling De­sire to chatt with you, Momus. And you ought to allow your self a Play-day sometimes, and be as merry as [Page 2]a Cricket: for to be always sowre and upon the fret, must needs make your life wonderfully sad and dismal.

You are much mista­ken, Philiater, and are but little acquainted with my constituent Principles. I was born as sharp as Vinegar, and sowre as Ver­juice; and do hope to become as piquant and corrosive as Aqua fortis.

Nay then indeed I was e­gregiously mistaken. You are, it seems, a particular Jumble of Con­stitution, and are neither Fish, nor Flesh, nor good Red Herring.

But still, Does not this cross­grain'd Temper of yours make you very uneasie and unquiet within your self? A continual state of Hostility with your Neighbours, and that without intermission or any the least truce, and the never giving your Thoughts respite, must certainly tire you out in time, and [Page 3]I fear impair your Health. But especially a Civil War I do look upon to be the most destructive and inhumane, the most dreadful and detested of all others. And men had much better to suffer quietly abundance of Incovenien­cies (which the World ever pro­vides of some kind or other to all conditions) than to hazard the most deplorable Extremities and Miseries, into which Civil War does constantly bring them.

Alas! You are as much out in your Politicks, as in your Physick. Neither the Happiness of my mind does depend upon do­mestick Peace, nor the Health of my Body upon being cocker'd with March-panes, and Sugar-plums; I have no sweet Tooth to please. You cannot but have heard that in some Countries they do feed upon Poisons, and they are said to turn into good Nourishment: Nay there are Cannibals in the [Page 4]World who can feed upon one another; and mans Flesh is never the worse meat, because it may disagree with your squeamish Sto­mach. I would have you to know that Jarrs and Contentions, Revi­lings and Calumnies, are the only Musick that tickles my Ears, and I do as naturally delight in Mischief and in Civil Animosities and Quar­rels, as Soldiers of Fortune do in Declarations of War between one Kingdom and another.

If that be your Temper, Momus, pray what think you then of the Author of a late Pamphlet, cal­led The Conclave of Physicians, which is a piece so foul and scur­rilous, and full of gross Detracti­on against the Faculty he is of, that all persons unconcerned, who have any share of Goodness or Manners, do blush at the reading it. But the worse it is, it seems, the better you like it.

Why, you have named [Page 5]the Man of all men that I do the most admire. I have inspired this Author with the fulness of my Dae­moniacal Spirit. Nay, I have so far possess'd him, and he me, that we two are grown to be all one. Never was there such a Friend­ship between two Brothers grow­ing out of the same Trunk, and making together one Compleat Monster: never was there known such a Discordia concors, as between Momus and that Author.

I could name other scurrilous Pam­phleteers, who have done their best to inflame mankind, to misrepre­sent and speak evil of Dignities and Societies, and on whom I have poured some small portion of my E­vil Spirit: but this Author is my Be­loved, my prime Minister, my dear Darling, and choicest Instrument of Malediction, insomuch that whatsoever he says I assent unto it readily, and having my self guided his Pen in the Treatise you speak [Page 6]of, I am bound to own it as writ­ten by my self; and he will not, or ought not to take it amiss, if I take upon the His Defence in my own name, against your silly Ex­ceptions.

Agreed then, Momus, let us debate that matter as it deserves. For as to the Numerical Author him­self, I must needs say, I never saw his Face, nor ever entertained one word of Discourse with him, nor ever had to do with him in any thing whatsoever, either great or small, good or bad. So that I fear you will shew your self much more passionate and prejudiced for him, than I can well be thought to be against one I know only by his Writings and by Hear-say. Indeed I have as great a Zeal for Truth, and for the Publick Good, as you can have for Calumny, and for Publick Confusion. If I had not, I should be more prudent and careful of my Peace and Quiet, [Page 7]than to ingage thus with one, from whom nothing can be ex­pected but throwing of Dirt and Filth, and a continual spawn of Ri­bauldry. However I shall spare personal Reflections for the present, more than the Book obliges me to; I shall not rake up divers passa­ges of his Life, nor examine his Morals, as he does very malici­ously those of the Conclavists, but reserve Matters of that kind, or lay them aside according as he mends his Manners, having never received a­ny particular or personal provo­cation from him. And indeed it is exceedingly disingenuous and unworthy a Liberal Education; besides that I could never wish any Personal III to another man, because he differs from me in judgment. It is in order to his A­mendment that this Rod is design­ed, and a little to prevent, if not cure his Itch, or rather Leprosie of Scribling. But, Momus, seeing you [Page 8]will personate this Author, tell me what moved you to write this Pamphlet, and therein so grie­vously to traduce the Faculty you were bred to?

You are not to expect Reasons for every thing I say or do. Ask the reason why Fire burns, why Storms and Tempests do roar and make a noise, why the Negro is black, why that which is heavy sinks downwards, why that which is light flies upwards, and why light inconsiderate Heads do fly at, and revile their Superiours. It is their Nature to do so, and it is mine to do as I do.

But certainly you must have had some Reason more than ordina­ry for such keen and deadly Ani­mosities as you express towards Physicians. The Tigre and Pan­ther and other Wild Beasts have a hungry Stomach to plead for them, when they kill and de­stroy, and seize upon their prey; [Page 9]but I suppose you will not own that it is for Bread and necessary Sustenance, that you make this lamentable havock of mens Good Names, and expose so many Grave and Learned men in Fools-coats, and Antick Shapes, to be baited and hooted at by the Mobile.

Yes, I have Reason enough, and many good Reasons, why I have thus taken in hand my Pen of Defiance, dipt it in Gall, and writ the most bitter things I could in­vent. If the Laws did not re­strain me, there is nothing so hor­rid or dreadful, that I should fear to commit against them all, nay, against all Associated Physicians up­on the Earth: And after I had glut­ted my self in their destruction, and satiated my Revenge with an intire extinction of that Faculty, I would be content to die in so good a Cause, and then I should, like a true Stoick, laugh even in Pha­laris his Bull.

Your passion, Momus, is raised too high; your Choler is all a fire. The Physician, if consult­ed, would advise to take away a good quantity of Blood; for doubtless you have the highest Inflammation of it that ever was known. This is not like a common Heart-burning: Unless it be your Temper, as they say of the Salaman­der, to live in the Fire, you would certainly consume your self with so intense a degree of Heat. In­deed you must cool a little, or else there can be no discoursing with you.

For once, Philiater, I'll try to conquer my self in some measure. In a violent Storm, I confess, it is prudent to take down the Sails, lest the Vessel be over­sett: The Rudder, I know, can be of no use in a Hurricane; Therefore let the Winds cease their Fury; the Sea grow calm again as soon as you will, and you shall [Page 11]find me guide my Discourse like an experienced and skilful Pilot. And without any further Simile's of Fire or Water, or any thing else, I will easily satisfie any intel­ligent Judge, why I writ the said Book you are so much offended at.

Know then, that when I came to this Town to practise, I neg­lected the entring my self into the College, as you call it. I expected at first to be courted and sought to by them, as knowing my own Worth, and the Excellency of my Education above that of any the best of the Members of this same College; and therefore it would have been an Honour to them, and a great condescension in me, to have been admitted into the best Capacity among them. By degrees, as I grew into Fame and Renown, and so was called to the assistance of the better Sort (who will not be perswaded to die without [Page 12]Consulting more than one Physi­cian, let his Name be never so fa­mous, or his Skill never so great) there was a necessity of my meet­ing several of them one time or other, and I being a Stranger to them, they presumed to tax me e­ver and anon whether I were of the College; now I being forced to an­swer still in the Negative, they would often insinuate this Foolery into my Patients sick Head so far that I soon lost by this means the squeezing many a wealthy Pa­tient, and instead of becoming ad­mired for my profound abilities, I was scoff'd at, and rejected, as be­ing, forsooth, not of the College.

And why would you not submit to the College's Examination, which is very candid and gentile, I am sure; by the undergoing of which, you might easily have a­voided that exception, and been Hail fellow well met, with those naughty Inquirers?

I scorn to be examined by such as they, or by any Physi­cian living.

I know no reason, why you should conceit your self a bet­ter man than every body else, who took your Degree abroad, and who was dubb'd a Doctor at seventeen Years of Age: A time of Age, or rather of Youth, beyond which the Boyes do commonly stay two or three Years at our great Schools, such as Westminster and Winchester, before they set footing to the Ʋniversity. And if you had been kept longer at School, when you were pertly Commencing Doctor, you might probably have learnt to be less malapert, than thus to prefer your Dearly Beloved Self before all the Learned Doctors of our two Famous Ʋniversities, who are taught better things, and who in order to their Degrees are fain to stay twelve or fourteen Years at least, before they are suffered to [Page 14]take it, and by that means they do become much riper in Years and in Understanding, than you, who,Casus Med. Ch. p. 142. as your self tells us, In making the Petit Tour of France, did in your way take your Degrees in Physick, both of Batchelor and Doctor. It seems then you alighted from your Horse, I hear at Leyden (to whose Honour be it spoken,) walk'd to the Phy­sick-Schools, and took those Degrees, one with one hand, and the o­ther with t'other. For it is plain by your description, your first and chief business was to make the Pe­tit Tour; your lesser and secondary Affair was to take along with you those Degrees, which indeed had much better have been left behind, than to have caused all this Strife and Animosity about their Worth and Precedence. But how you came to find Leyden, a Town in Holland, to lie in your way, as you were making the Petit Tour of [Page 15] France, is a Mystery that I cannot comprehend. For all Travellers that ever I met with do assure me that they did use to frolick it down the River Loire, when they did make this famous Tour. But you have a singular art to find London in Paris, and Paris in Venice; you can find nothing but Ignorance in the Learned, and Learning to o­verflow in Changelings and I­deots; you can make a Mountain of a Molehill, turn Light into Darkness, and by some wonderful skill in Magick can confound the Order of Nature. Again, those your Youthful, Foreign, and light-come light-go Degrees, did cost much less Pains, Expence, or Time, than our Grave and Manly Ʋniversity-Degrees use to do. Wherefore I am amazed why you should thus overvalue those your foreign De­grees, which our Laws do allow no Priviledges to, but rather re­strain under a due subjection, [Page 16]and at the same time you should thus undervalue the staple and sub­stantial Degrees of Oxford and Cambridge, which our Laws do highly and deservedly favour. When you were matriculated at Oxford, you might remember that you took an Oath, which because a Customary thing, I fear, you have quite forgotten. By that Oath you solemnly swore to pro­mote, as much as in you should lie, the Honour and Good of that University. Besides, where-ever you took your Degrees in the ma­king your Petit Tour, you could not but take Hippocrates his Oath. You did then swear, Per Deum Omnipotentem, quòd sanctè Vitam & Artem tuam conservave­ris, By Almighty God, that you would live, and exercise the Art of Physick, like a Good man. You did then likewise swear, Quod quae inter curandum videris aut audieris, imò etiam ad medicandum non adhi­bitus, [Page 17]in communi hominum vita cognoveris, ea siquidem efferre non contulerit, tacebis: & tanquam ar­cana apud te continebis. Hoc igitur jusjurandum tibi integrè servanti, & non confundenti, contingat & vitâ & arte feliciter frui, & apud omnes ho­mines in perpetuum gloriam tuam ce­lebrari. Transgredienti autem, & pejeranti, his contraria eveniant. That what things you should see or hear in your Practice of Phy­sick, nay even where you are not called upon as a Physician, what you shall happen to know in the common conversation of men, if it be not convenient to divulge them abroad, you shall not di­vulge them, [...], as judging such things fit never to be once mentioned. Therefore according as you keep this Oath inviolably, and make no breach of it, you beseech God to grant, that you may enjoy a com­fortable Life, and have a successful [Page 18]Practice, and that you may be held in esteem among men as long as you live, and be famous to fu­ture Ages. But that if you vi­olate, and go contrary to this Oath, you wish all evil on the contrary to your self. Thus I have given you some part of your Oath in Latine, because you took it in Latine not in Greek. And I have rendred the words into as plain and proper English as the true Sense of the Original would bear. Now, Momus, tell me soberly, have you no Remorse upon your Mind, no Stings of a guilty knawing Conscience, for that you have so publickly acted contrary to the Tenour of this Oath, for the writing such wicked Invectives against the Faculty of Physick, and for your thus divul­ging not only things fit to be conceal­ed, but malitiously exposing them in the worst and blacker colours in which your Invention could con­trive to draw them?

Thou art too weak to dive into my Politicks, or to ap­prehend the solidity and firmness of my Temper. My heart is past relenting, past admitting poor Pec­cavi's, it is not sophisticated with Gumms and Lachrymae, A Stone u­sed in Phy­sick tried that way. but is hard as Stone, and impenetrable to the test and pricks of a red-hot Needle. Dost thou think Preach­ments, or doelful Stories will now mollifie it? The tender Virgin in­deed has much adoe to get over the first great Fault, and when she has at last yielded after a long re­sistance, the poor creature is full of confusion and terror. But when once she is arrived to the audacity and courage of a Common Noto­rious Strumpet, she is then past sor­row and repentance, and little less than an absolute Miracle can reclaim her into some degrees of her for­mer natural Modesty. And so the shame-sac'd Youth, who has been [Page 20]bred in a virtuous Country Family, when he comes first to Town, and enters into one of our Academies for Education, he cannot but keep good hours, and is inticed or dragg'd to a Brothel House, like a Bear to the Stake; but after a lit­tle initiation into the Mysteries of Debauchery, all his discourse shall be flourished with Dam'mees, he brings them out with a good grace; he proclaims aloud in the Play-house how many Claps he has got alrea­dy, nay, he shall make himself, if possible, ten times filthier than he really is, and glory most in that which formerly he would have blush'd to think of.

But yet methinks the Laws of our Countrey, which have long impowered and established the Col­lege of Physicians, should be some Motive to perswade you, that it is better and more prudent to enter into the Union of that Learned Bo­dy, than to continue thus without­doors, [Page 21]indistinguishable in the wretched and contemptible Herd of Quacks, Mountebanks, Wise-Women, Astrologers, and other ig­norant or impudent Impostors.

I have been divers years at absolute Defiance with them and their Laws; I have provo­ked, nay worried them with unpar­donable Indignities and Defamati­ons: in a word, I have never fear­ed to encounter the most powerful and celebrated of them all; and to this day I have stood and kept my ground, no one of them daring to enter the lists, to ingage publickly with me. And do you now think I have any reason to be timorous, or to startle at their idle Laws? No, they know their own weak­ness, and are conscious to them­selves what a folly they should commit in contending with me at points of Law.

I know not what cunning you may have to evade the force [Page 22]of their Laws. but I have heard it confidently asserted, that never any Empirick yet, whom the College has thought fit to prosecute, could make his Defence so good against their Power, but that at last he was forced to shoot the pit and run for't, or else was reduced to very great Extremities.

I hope you will not range me among those little Empiricks, whom I scorn as much as the Con­clavists themselves. Read the De­scription of my Education in my Casus Medico-Chirurgicus, read it throughly, and with attention, and you will find me to be some-body; and not a contemptible, creeping Empirick. I defie them again and again, I laugh and grin at them all in a lump. They deal with me at Law!

But really, bold Sir, it is very unfitting that so many swarms of Empiricks, and illegal Practisers, as do now-a-days pester this great [Page 23]City, should be suffered, as they do, to murder and destroy the King's Subjects, and the College not call them to account for it; as they did in times past. The whole Nobility, and the flower of the English Gen­try do spend some part of their time in this Metropolis; their Wives and Children are many of them here trained up and educated, and every body can't distinguish be­tween a Ninny and a man of Sence, between an Empirick and a true Physician.

For my part, I see no dif­ference between the Learned and the Illiterate Empirick. Put them in two Scales, and you will find the one weigh as much too heavy, as the other does too light. The one does often do as much good at a venture, as the other does mischief deliberately, and through ill Prin­ciples.

I perceive then you are wi­ser, in your own opinion at least, [Page 24]than our Noble Kings, and most Wise Parliaments. For they saw matters of this kind quite otherwise than you do. The Preamble to the 3 of Henry 8. chap. 11. runs thus: Forasmuch as the Science and Cunning of Physick and Surgery (to the perfect know­ledge whereof be requisite both great Learning and ripe Experi­ence) is daily within this Realm exercised by a great multitude of ignorant persons, of whom the greater part have no manner of insight in the same, nor in any other kind of Learning: some al­so can no letters on the Book, so far forth, that common Artificers, as Smiths, Weavers and Wo­men, boldly and accustomably take upon them great Cures, and things of great difficulty; in the which they partly use Sorce­ry and Witchcraft, partly apply such Medicines unto the disease as be very noious, and nothing [Page 25]meet therefore; to the high dis­pleasure of God, great infamy to the Faculty, and the grievous hurt, damage and destruction of many of the King's Liege-people; most especially of them that can­not discern the uncunning from the cunning: Be it therefore (to the surety and comfort of all man­ner of people) by the Authority of this present Parliament ena­cted, &c.

Again, the Preamble to King James's Royal Charter granted to the College of Physicians does run thus: Whereas our most Noble and Renowned Predecessor, King Henry the Eighty late King of this our Realm of England, in his Princely wisdom deeply con­lidering, and by the Example of Foreign well-governed States and Kingdoms, truly under­standing how profitable, benefi­cial and acceptable it would be unto the whole body of this King­dom [Page 26]of England, to restrain and suppress the excessive number of such as daily professed themselves learned and profound Practisers in the Faculty of Physick, where­as in truth they were men illite­rate and unexperienced, rather propounding unto themselves their private gain, with the detri­ment of this Kingdom, than to give relief in time of need: And likewise duely considering that by the rejecting of those illiterate and unskilful Practisers, those that were learned, grave and pro­found Practisers in that Faculty, should received more bountiful Re­ward, and also the industrious Students of that Profession would be the better incouraged in their studies and endeavours. For these and many other weigh­ty Motives, &c. The Charter which our late most excellent Mo­narch gave them, runs much in the same strain. So that our Kings and [Page 27] Parliaments do express a just and sufficient indignation against those illegal Practisers.

Come, come, a Blot is not a Blot until it be hit. I have travel­led through Germany, and the best parts of Europe, and have learn'd with a few Chequeens to make my self shot-proof against all they can do. Nor did I spend my time so ill in France, but that I quickly got the trick to purchase with a few Pistols, a Title big enough to make me despise the pedantick Priviledg­es of Colleges and Conclaves. There it is a common thing for a man of Knowledge, who has learn'd the Art of Curing Diseases by fits and starts, hither and thither, out of the ordinary dull road, to write himself Physician in Ordinary to his Majesty, and Counsellour to the King in his Councils, after which he can safely interlope where-ever he plea­ses. Nay, every ordinary Mecha­nick is not only treated with the [Page 28]style of Monsieur, but can hang at his door, in great or Golden Let­ters, MARCHAND in Ordina­ry to the King, from the lowest Trinket to the highest.

Sure you cannot but know, that in France no Physician though never so highly doctorated, will be permitted to practise Physick in any of their Towns of Resort, un­less he be first Aggregated, or Imbo­dyed into the Society of Physicians dwelling in that place, and in order to that, be examined by them a­fresh let him shew a Diploma ne­ver so fairly Gilded, or be his Pretences never so Honourable.

I do not deny the matter of Fact: But I did not go to France to learn Fashions, or the Rules of Civility. The Custom you speak of is a Monopoly, and it is equally un­just and dishonourable.

The Custom we speak of is highly necessary: And there ought to go more to the being in­trusted [Page 29]with mens lives than the meer getting a Diploma, en passant, whilst a man is upon the ram­ble, sowing his wild Oats. For otherwise more over-forward Youths of seventeen than one, might probably in their Travels stum­ble upon the Degrees of Batche­lor and Doctor, when they should better be conning Tully's Offices at School, and learning many sen­tentious verses in Horace, Juvenal, and Persius. The Morals of those Books well digested will lay good foundations for the making a bet­ter man, and consequently the bet­ter Physician. Besides, the fore­said Custom may be one true Rea­son, I am sure it is a good Rea­son, why the French do multiply and increase at the rate they do, insomuch that they can alwaies spare vast numbers of Frenchmen, to supply all their neighbour Coun­tries, nay sometimes more than the jealous Natives would willingly admit.

But still these Monopolies are not to be endured.

In troth, Momus, our Parisi­ans are the most negligent and inar­tificial Monopolizers that ever were heard of. For them to suffer such an inundation of Empirical Interlo­pers, when they have in them­selves the Monopoly of Physick ac­cording to Law, they do really de­serve to be blamed! For them to suffer so many noxious and dele­terious Weeds to grow and over­spread their Countrey, when they are intrusted with the care that none but useful and beneficial Plants should grow in their Phy­sick-Garden, 'tis a sad and grie­vous fault! But still these Mono­polies may better be endur'd than Levelling. A little good order is to be preferr'd before a Chaos of Confusion.

I acknowledge there ought to be a certain subordina­tion among men, and can some­times [Page 31]distinguish between a Prince and a Peasant; between a Courti­er and a Clown. That which I insist upon is this, that all Con­claves of Physicians do tend to the destruction of mankind, and there­fore out of my abundant Well­wishes to the World, I have fired this Beacon, and give such a loud Alarm to the Countrey, that all Paris, and more than seven miles a­bout, will ring of it with a witness, this many a year. In a word, I have detected the Intrigues, Frauds, and Plots of the Physicians against their Patients, and their destroying the Faculty of Physick. Let me tell ye, it is a Pill that will stick in their Throats as long as they live, and will give them more bitter Gripes and woful Pains than ever Co­loquintida could do.

No such matter, I assure ye. I have heard it indeed now and then mentioned among the Learned Members of the Faculty; and all [Page 32]that ever I could observe upon it was only this, that they look'd up­on the Author to be a malicious, mad, and Giddy Hair-brain, and look'd upon the Pamphlet with the greatest contempt imaginable; no one, that ever I heard, thinking it worth the pains of an Answer.

No! I called all the Infer­nal Spirits to my assistance. I row­zed all the Faculties of my Heart and Brain, with more violence than the Lyon is said to do himself with his Tail, when provoked to a com­bat; I whetted my memory, put my imagination upon the Rack, in scirpo nodum quaerere; and I got Argus his eyes to search into every corner of the Town, to ransack e­very Patient's Chamber, and Apo­thecarie's Shop, in order to find proper materials for the greater perfection of this Work; and do they at last despise it, as you say?

The very same upon my honest Word. Alas, the Faculty [Page 33]of Physick is built upon surer Foun­dations than to be shook with eve­ry whiffling Wind. It is not to be battered down with Pop-guns, and Boys play. They have Salves for every Sore; they have Antidotes for every poisonous Dart that is shot at them, and generally the Dart that is shot against 'em rebounds upon the head of their Enemy, to his great Misfortune, if not utter Ruine.

I can never think them such men of Might as you speak them. For would any one that pretends to Manhood, and has Power and Strength on his side, suffer, as they tamely do, every sawcy Jack to pull them by the Beard, and every licentious Buffoon to scoff at them how he pleases? What if their Predecessors had some power to curb the Insolences of those that contended with 'em? I am well satisfied that their strength is gone: they are now [Page 34]come to a Decrepit Old Age, and doth intolerably.

'Twill be well for you, if you find them such dull Hocuses, when you come to try the point together. You would do well to read a Book lately printed, called The Royal College of Physicians of London, founded and establish'd by Law, as appears by Letters Patents, Acts of Parliament, adjudged Cases, &c. Collected by one of their worthy Collegue's D^r G. You will find likewise in the same Book, An Historical account of the College's Proceedings against Empiricks and Ʋnlicensed Practisers in every Prince's Reign, from their first Incorporation, to the Murther of the Royal Martyr King Charles the First. This Book does plainly prove, that they have exercised very great Power, both by way of Fine, and Imprisonment with­out Bail or Manprize, and by divers Overthrows at Law; and the Lear­ned in the Law (who can best judge [Page 35]of those matters) do positively affirm that they have the same power still.

Let the Lawyers say what they will, and the Confederates write what they will, in spight of all they can do, I will think, and say, and also write what I will. Moreover, he that is so far debauch'd in his Senses as to be admitted into any Conclave of Physicians, doth, ipso facto, as much entitle himself to all their Man-slaughters, Fourbs, and Impostures, as he that is listed a­mong a Troop of Neapolitan Ban­diti doth at that moment participate in the guilt of all their former Crimes and Villanies, in the same manner as if he had been a part in them himself. Preface.

So that by your way of Arguing, the Communion of Saints ought to be expunged out of your Creed, as well as a Combination of Banditi. It seems a man ought not to unite with any society of Christians, for fear he should be [Page 36]thereby infected with the Guilt of every particular Pretender to that Communion. Henceforth let no man bind his Son Prentice to a Trade, lest ipso facto he make him go snacks in all the Lies and Cheats of every individual Knave that in turning the penny. Let all Societies and Corporations be dis­solved by your Magisterial Quo Warranto, because they so nearly resemble these Conclaves of Physici­ans. Let no man marry a Wife, lest himself be guilty of Adultery every time the slippery Associate takes a frisk abroad to see a Friend. And is that the reason why some men do divorce themselves à mensâ & thoro, even from Virtuous Women, and upon second thoughts do become Melancholick Celibates, after God had joined them together? I have heard it often affirmed (to the ho­nour of the Married State) that the Conversation of Women (in a lawful way) does wonderfully [Page 37]sweeten, and civilize the manners of men, and that they are Helps very meet for us upon many ac­counts. But I shall grant that Marriage cannot make the Aethio­pian change his Skin, nor the Leopard his Spots. He that is born an Ʋn­sociable Creature, in whom Sowre­ness and Austerity are radically im­planted, and who by the abuses of Chymistry has turned all his Animal Spirits into keen and corrosive, in­somuch that he can think of no­thing but what is sowre and grate­ing to ingenious ears, it must not be expected that the State of Matri­mony should tranform him into a Lamb, or make him mealy-mouth'd. But again, let us consider. He that is so far debauch'd in his Senses as to be admitted into any Conclave of Physicians, &c. It is a strain of that rapture, and extravagance, that certainly you must have been in some Trance when you penn'd it. It is so shamefully silly, as well as [Page 38]malicious to the highest degree, and every body that reads must needs so see through it, that I am almost ashamed to repeat a piece of such gross weakness, wherein you have taken such timely care to expose your self to the Censure and Scorn of all men, Have you always had so implacable a hatred unto, and ex­travagant opinion of all Conclaves of Physicians?

No. Time was, when I though well enough of some of them, and particularly the Conclave of Physicians at London. It was at a time when I had no small hopes of getting an Honourable Admit­tance among them, and in order to it did use frequently to meet Doctor A.B.C. near the Plot-Of­fice, (since so called) in Aldersgate-street. About the same time I writ an excellent and popular Treatise, called The Disease of London, or a New Discovery of the Scurvey, Print­ed Anno 1675.

By the good token that you spoke well of people once in your life; Pray let's hear a little of the Harangue you then made in favour of the College, and the Leanred Members of it.

The Preface to that work begins thus:

It is observable, that the First so­lid Foundation of Physick, was laid by the great Architect of that Art Hippocates, in an Isle called Coos; and it is no less remarkable, that the truest Superstructure was made on it, in this Island by the Famed College of Physicians of London. It was a Member of that Society. Doctor William Harvey of Immortal Me­mory, that had laid another Basis by detecting the Circulation of the Blood, for which this Britain may as justly merit the Title of Divine, as the other Coos. The Rubbish that was cast about it by Parisanus, Leighnerus, and others, to obscure it, tended to render it more firm; not­withstanding [Page 40]this was so smoothly re­moved by that Incomparable Physi­cian Sir George Ent, the now Presi­dent of the College, in his Apology, that all Ʋniversities did then adjudge those void of Apprehension, that did not readily imbrace that Principle, and that it was impossible for any man to arrive to be a Physician without the knowledge of it. A little after in the same Preface, I did call the whole Body an Apollinean Society, and a Society whose fame is spread as far as the Art of Physick it self. Nay, and giving an account of the Pra­ctice of Physick, I did declare, that the Fellows of the College have pro­ved so wonderfully successful in it, that their Methods of Curing the most stubborn of Diseases, may serve for a fit Pattern to all the World to practise by; and I cannot deny but in many Cases it hath proved so to me, which to acknowledge is the sole occasion of my introducing this Dis­course.

And can you read the ac­knowledgment of so great a Truth without blushing, and confusion? A Truth hich Foreigners do uni­versally own; (and you could not choose but find it so in your Tra­vells) but yet as true as it is, they are too modest and ingenuous arro­gantly to proclaim their Methods of Curing for Patterns to all the World. You cannot but know that we have greater plenty of stubborn Diseases, than those Hotter Coun­tries have, though which you tra­velled. Nay, the same untoward and stubborn Disease shall be more stubborn with us, than it is with them; a Clyster, and a purge, and a Bleed­ing or two will not do, in this stub­born Countrey. Our Physicians do find they have a great deal more to think of, or else they would never have proved so wonderfully successful as you say they are, (and there is no doubt of the truth of it) in the Practice of Physick. Therefore he [Page 42]is not debauch'd very far in his Sen­ses, who speaks true sence in the opinion of sober men, and who forbears not to give to Deserving men their due; but that man's de­bauch'd beyond hopes of recovery, who is gone so far, that he has lost all common Sense, lost the Me­mory of the principal things he writ of, even the sole occasion of so late a Discourse, in acknowledgment o the just worth of the Learned Fellows of the College, whose Me­thods of Curing may serve for a fit Pattern to all the World to practise by. This is not an ordinary de­bauch of the Mind for a Physician of your Education to rail, like a Madman, at all Societies; and even of Physicians, with a most bloody ipso facto, worse than any Anathe­ma. If Malice and ill Nature had not only overclowded, but extin­guish'd your Reason, if the Senses of your Mind were not absolutely besotted or infatuated, you could [Page 43]not but have known who is the most likely to be debauch'd in his Senses; either he that easily sub­mits himself to the Laws and Sta­tutes of his Countrey, and lives in a due subjection to the Govern­ment under which he is born and bred, or else he that would break and confound all order, over­turn and dissolve, by his good will, all Societies in the World, and who would rather be a solitary Wild Beast, range all alone, like a decla­red Enemy to Mankind, than be any ways Sociable, though it be in the Conyersation of most Learned and Admitale men.

Pish! That Treatise was written ten Years ago, and though it had the advantage of bearing my Name before it, yet I must tell you, it was not written by me. It was a different Hand, and different Person that writ it. For they say that Physicians do generally hold that once in every seven Years our [Page 44]Bodies are quite changed from what they were. Our Gizzards are wholly new, and there is a total supply of new Matter, though under the same Form; And further, that Arch-Philosopher, A­ristotle, is so extreamly of the foresaid opinion, that he positively maintains, a man can't go twice the same man into the same River. Now I have very good reason to think that Mores animi sequuntur Tempe­ramentum corporis, and therefore the Body of that Hand which writ that Treatise of the Scurvey, might be of another-guess Frame and Temperament, than this which writ the Conclave of Physicians, and so the Mind might then be more inclined to write Panegyricks of Worthy men, than to expose them to the lash of Satyrical Re­flections. Does not a Sun-shiny day also strangely influence the Mind, and make it brisk and frol­licksome, kind and debonaire, [Page 45]when the effects of a Clowdy Season are quite the contary? so that you see there might be very many, and very good reasons, both for the one, and for the other.

Indeed I should hardly have thought you so great a Changeling, as you learnedly be­speak your self. If the Weather-Cock of your Brain does so depend upon the Wind and Weather, ac­cording as the Physick-Season is fair or foul with you, I fear we must never expect more of those Sun­shiny Books, these last of the Cloudy and Malevolent sort being now so natural to you. You are too old to change to the better, and are so exceeding bad, that you cannot possible change to the worse.

Whatever you may therefore think of my future Con­stancy in the same tenour of ill will to the Faculty, I do find some con­siderable alteration in my Dyscrasy, since the first Edition of my last [Page 46]Book. For whereas other Authors do reprint their books with some Additions, I have published the se­cond Edition of mine with many Al­terations.

That's pretty. That you should spy such Faults worthy to be Altered in the Brat of your own Brain! But I would fain hear a lit­tle more of the Preface of that Scurvey-Author, adjourning one mi­nute our further Entertainment by the Conclave-Author.

For many Ages the World was ignorant, whence the superfluous moisture proceeded, which we hourly spit out, until the out-let, viz. the Ductus Salivales were discovered by the Learned Doctor Wharton, a Fel­low of the College; and though it was generally believed, nothing could be further declared, touching the Structure of the Liver, yet so elegant a description of its most intime Parts, and Dissemination of its Vessels, Cho­lidochus, and a very exact pursuit of [Page 47]the Lymphaeducts, was made by the most accomplish'd Doctor Glisson (the late Prefident) in his Anatomi-Hepatis, that in a manner it appeara­ed, as if nothing had been solidly written of it by any before him. ibid.

Now give us a cast of the Conclave-Autor's opinion concern­ing the College's Ignorance in Anato­my, and his own superlavtive Profi­ciency in it.

That is not fair; you unseasonably interrupt me. I was going on; but because you are in haste to have it, hear the Conclave-author speaking thus in the Preface: What new Discoveries have they made in Antaomy these twenty Years? Certainly none: and I dare presume to say, I my self have divulged more new Anatomical Observations, which are of greater use, than all of 'em in a Bundle.

Say you so, most mighty Author? Are those Worthies late­ly mentioned, of Immortal Mentory, [Page 48]those Incomparable Physicians, those famous and most Accomplisht Presi­dents, that Learned Fellow of this College, to be all cashiered and for­getten, with a What new Discove­ries have they made in Anatomy these twenty Years? You would have the incautious and less-knowing Reader to understand a hundred Years by your slily limited twenty Years. The light-headed Gallant must not have one word of hint, as if any the least thing in Anatomy had ever been discovered by them before. But he shall have his Belly­full of your hidden Discoveries, and must swallow them with an Im­plicite Faith. Yet in all the Anato­mical Discourses that ever I heard since my coming to this Town, which is some many a Year, I ne­v er heard Man, Woman, or Child, neither Learned nor Unlearned, no Curious Virtuoso, nor Incurious Cox­comb of any kind, to mutter the least Syllable of your New Anatomi­cal [Page 49]Observations; whereas not on­ly this Town and Kingdom rings, but Foreign Universities, and Ana­tomical Authors far and near, do with one consent acknowledge a­loud, how highly they are indebt­ed to our Divine Britain, as you called it, and particularly to the most Experienced and Learned Phy­sicians of the College of London, as in another place, for their many improvements of Anatomy. I could name divers Members of the Col­lege now living, whose Names are deservedly Great in that respect, and are not like to be forgotten in after-ages, no more than those men of Immortal Memory, of whom you read us a Lecture, are forgotten in this. But I find you expected eve­ry Year from the College a pro­duct of New Anatomical Observati­ons, as constantly as the Spring and Harvest. When Apelles has drawn his Picture, and finish'd it in every Point, would you have the Succes­sion [Page 50]of Painters be always dabling about it, until they spoil it again? Friend, this Century has done very well, and much better than you could wish, in Anatomy, perhaps more than all the Ages in the World before; and it deserves little blame from Momus himself. Besides, we ought in civility to leave something for our Children after us to do; and not to become such Monopoli­zers of Anatomy, as You, who dare presume to say, I my self have divul­ged more new Anatomical Observati­ons, which are of greater use, than all of 'em in a bundle. I wish you would have directed us where we might meet with a Bundle of your spick and span New Anatomical Ob­servations. I fear you have divulged them to none but your self. And though you dare presume to say as much as any Sciolist whatsoever, yet you are not so very competent a judge of their greater use, than those of all the World besides, or [Page 51]even of all the Members of the Col­lege. And so thus much for the Conclave-Preface. Now give me one relishing Bit more, out of that Scurvey-Preface. For really I must needs take it all by Bits and Snaps, and my further Answer to the Book of the Conclave must be in some measure according to the Book it self, which gives us our Entertain­ment, not in solid substantial Dishes, but by way of hash and piece-meal. Besides, it would clog and lye hard upon our Stomachs, and tire our patience, if we were to ex­amine nicely, to feed upon, and to digest the whole and every part of it. And I would have this Oglio of the Author's particular preparing so served up, that there may be some­thing to please the Palate of the Merry and Morose, the Sowre and the Sweet, nay, a little for all sorts of Readers, who have been amused with his Book.

That some Distempers [Page 52]had escaped the Observation of the Grecian and Arabian Physicians, was evidenced by the eminently learned Doctor Bates, Doctor Glisson, and Doctor Regemorter, Collegues, in that excellent Treatise de Rachitide. In all my Travels, I had never the good Fortune to be particularly ac­quainted with a person equal in Li­terature, Experience and Observati­vation, with Doctor Bates; I must confess, I went ever from him more knowing than I was before. ibid.

'Tis true, these Collegues have prov'd notable men in their Generation, and Doctor Bates par­ticularly deserves his due, as being Dead, and so not like to incommode or interfere with the Caprichio's of the Living. I am mightily mis-in­form'd, if this Great Man, at the very beginning of your particular acquaintance with him, did not im­mediately, upon the first Conver­sation, so soon as your Back was turn'd, declare to your Friend [Page 53]who introduced you, that he thought you could never fix to any thing, nor so much as fix in a place, or in plain English, that you had a Maggot, or a Worm in you Head; which indeed has since driven you about from Hatton Garden to Fleetstreet, and from Fleetstreet to Hatton-Garden again; from thence to Chelmsford in Essex, and from Chelmsford to Ipswich; and now at last from Ips­wich to I know not where; the one half of you to Westminster, and t' other half to about Ʋxbridge. But again, if you had had the good for­turne to have been received a Mem­ber of that College in due time, and by that means had got a fair opportunity to be more particularly acquainted with divers Eminent and very Knowing Men still living a­mong them, you might possibly have met with others as Instructive Acquaintance as you did in all your Travels. If you had Associated with them, you would certainly have [Page 54]learn'd more Modesty and less Arrogance, than you now have. You might then have accounted it a greater Honour to have been the least among those Learned Collegues, than thus to pride your self with be­ing thought the first among the con­temptible Empirical Tribe. Now proceed, and read me some of those places I have mark'd with a black coal.

Will you take no notice then of I Conuglio pitolo, and the Conuglio Grande. You are to believe this Tract is not written to please many. Preface to the Con­clave.

Yes, yes: Those great let­ters do give us to understand that you can speak some Italian; we will not doubt but that in your Travels you pick'd up some scraps of that kind. And you had a great advan­tage to it, by travelling so young. For an idle Boy is much better at learning Languages, than a wise or [Page 55]full-grown Man. Momus, you need not have told us that we are to believe this your Tract s not writ­ten to please many. I should rather incline to believe that it was not writ­ten to please any, but to gratifie an inveterate rancour of mind, to please only your own self, and to quench a little your sitis inextingui­bilis, your unsatiable thirst of Re­venge, and most implacable hatred to the Faculty, for not court­ing you forsooth to be of their Number. But perhaps your Tract may please some besides your self, it may please some besides your self, it may please some little Quacks and Mountebanks, to whom the Col­lege is a declared Enemy according to Law; it may please some squandring frothy Gallants, who have been privately great Sufferers by your Little strowling Menus, whose Contagion they could not discover by reason of her Mask, and who in all probability had suffered most of all from you Grand Hermaphrodi­tick [Page 56]Cure, your Herculean, Gigantean, Vulcanous, or other Conceited Cures. Their ill Cures, no doubt, might make them angry with Physick it self, because they suffered under the hands of an Ill Physician, and had not the wit to distinguish between a good Commodity and a bad, or between a man and a post. Lastly, Your Tract might please those who are never pleased with any thing that is good, such who continually sneer at all that is serious, who think it Wit to expose Vertue and Religion in uncouth Burlesque, and whose profligate Lives do make it their Interest to declare for Scurrili­ty on your side.

You are too severe, Philia­ter, If you had been one of our Par­ty, and had shewed so great a Zeal for Errors, Defamations, and Mis­representations, as you do for Truth, and for the Publick, I should not have wondred; but thus to exceed the bounds of Moderation for the [Page 57]sake of others more than ones own particular, is a Mystery, and a Rid­dle to me that I cannot unfold. For they say, Every bodies business is no bodies business. Sure a good Fee of our side would abate this heat you shew for the Good of the Pub­lick.

A good Fee is no such tempt­ing matter, as to make me forget my duty. You and I are great strangers I find. If you knew me throughly, you would possibly un­derstand that I am more easily in­flamed into a Passion, when I meet with wretches who conspire the Publick Ruine, and who care not how they trouble the waters of their Countrey, so they may the better fish in them, than when I meet with particular Affronts, or personal Pro­vocations. I have learn'd that Love is the fulfilling the Christian Law. And I hope I should sooner cut my own flesh, than willingly injure a­nother man by Word, or Deed, [Page 58]unless I look'd upon him to be a common Enemy to mankind, and to become a Wolf or a Tigre to us all. Therefore, Momus, read on, but before you enter into the Tract, let us have one of those Advertisements, which immediately follows the Con­tents.

Modern Curiosities of Art and Nature, &c. composed and ex­perimented by the Sieur Lemery Apo­thecary to the French King.

That's false, and a trick; it is a Bastard laid at the wrong door, and therefore fit enough to be pre­mised to the succeeding Tract. I can tell you, from undoubted Au­thority, that the Sieur Lemery in his Letters to his Friends here, who were inquisitive upon the matter, does with great concern disclaim his being the Author of this delicate piece. He thinks himself extream­ly injur'd, in being thought the Author of such a Rhapsody of pre­tended Experiments, Astrological [Page 59]Cures, Housewifery and Cookery, and a tedious long Mish-mash of Tit­tle. It was written (and so printed) by a Sieur named d'Emery, a Gentle­man at large, and not by the ingeni­ous Sieur Lemery, now a Doctor of Physick. Now as for the other three Books, there advertised toge­ther, we'll e'en let them pass, as needing to be hung out with such a Bush, in order to force a sale.

Solomon gives us this re­mark (Ecclesiast. chap. 2. vers. 3.) There is a time to kill, and a time to heal; which my mother-wit interprets, That a Physician, at some times he kills, and at some times he cures. Furthermore, ob­serve, that as Solomon sets down that there is a time to kill before the time to heal; so generally Physicians (especially of pretended Societies) kill more than they cure. p. 3. & 4.

The same Solomon (Prov. 26.4, 5.) gives us another good remark, worthy your serious consi­deration. [Page 60] Answer not a Fool ac­cording to his Folly, lest thou also be like unto him. Which I do under­stand thus: when you discourse with a Fool, or proud conceited Coxcomb, do not fawn upon him, and sooth him in his follies, but boldly and honestly expose them to deserved scorn, lest thou also be thought like unto him, and so thou become so unfortunate, as to be ta­ken for a Bird of the same feather. And then again, in the next verse: Answer a Fool according to his folly, left he be wise in his own conceit. Which is easie enough to interpret: Answer a Fool, (when he writes e­gregiously silly, and maliciously) not with a grave discourse, and seri­ous arguing, but serve him up with his own sawce, shew him the hi­deous deformity of his Visage in a true Looking-glass, let the scoffer be soundly scoff'd at, lest he persist wise in his own conceit. In the same third Chapter of Ecclesiastes, not [Page 61] second, (as you mistake and blun­der, being not used to read the Holy Scriptures carefully and with any good design, but meerly to profane, and grosly abuse them) in that third Chapter, I say, you will find a time to weep for your unparallell'd offences, as well as to laugh without reason, like a Fool; there is a time to keep silence, especially in what you have taken an Oath to keep silence; and there is a time to speak seriously and discreetly which the Tract before us does too much insinuate that you never observe. Likewise there is a time to love as well as to hate. But you can ob­serve no other times, but there time of killing and healing. The first you observe too much, and take a most particular notice of it, be­ing infinitely tickled with the con­ceit, that the Wise-man has put the killing time in the first place. Whether you observe as you should do, the time of healing, will best be [Page 62]judged by the following discourse. And now, Momus, I shall advise you to forbear abusing Scripture so scandalously and conceitedly. Wee'l give you leave, for the pre­sent, ludere cum corio humano, but by no means cum sacris. Be merry and wise, and remember that we are acting a fulsome farce, wherein it is very improper to consult such a man as Solomon. Your Mother-Wit to pretend to the Wisdom of Solomon!

In most Countries, a Cri­minal who is to be put to the Rack, or any ways executed, is usually, from his suffering, called the Patient or Sufferer; and so is the sick man that is to subject himself to the rigid sentence of some of theCombined Physicians, which renders the word Patient or Sufferer truly synony­mous to both. p. 5.

In all Countries, that ever I heard of, a Criminal is called a Criminal, as a Spade is called a [Page 63] Spade. But in your Practice wee'll allow a Venerial Criminal, who is to undergo your Herculean, or o­ther Bombastick Cures, to be pro­perly called a Sufferer. And yet let him suffer the Rack you put him upon, never so much, in order to expiate for his past Crimes, I guess you would take it very un­kindly to have him usually called your Sufferer. But when once he is in your Limbo, the sick man must e'en be contented to take it Patiently, and so may be called your Patient. Pray would you your self, in sober sadness, allow a good Generous Patient who subjects him­self to your rigid uncontroulable sentence, to be called immediately your Sufferer? I believe the Gen­tleman would soon take his leave of you, and would much rather subject himself to the milder sentence of some of the combined Physicians, in hopes to find out a Preserver from the Sufferings you thus impru­dently [Page 64]threatned him withal. Now let the word Patient or Sufferer be truly synonymous with you, we of the Combined Party, Combined to­gether in the knowledge of better things, shall always distinguish be­tween a Fools Cap, and a Philoso­phers Beard, between the Musick of a Rattle and a Base-Viol.

If that be not reverâ the greatest truth, I think I paid off the men of Physick about the New Dis­ease, a name of ignorance, their A­sylum ignorantiae. One time they shall tell you, it is an Ague; another, it is a Feavor; a third, it's an A­gue and Feavor; a fourth, it's Fea­vor and Ague; a fifth, it's the new Disease; a denomination so idle, that every Novice in Physick might well suspect they had never read Hip­pocrates or Galen; especially upon observing, that every Autumnal or Epidemick Distemper is by them termed new: whereas, the gentle Pox excepted, there is not any among [Page 65]all those they have nominated new Diseases, but what is amply described in many ancient Authors. p. 10, 11.

I believe we shall find you horribly out, reverâ, in most of your greatest truths. The men of Physick you speak of, have read Diseases both New and Old, and they have read Men too. What if one Woman tells you, it is an Ague, the Nurse, a Fever, the Midwife, an Ague and Fever, and after all an old Gossip comes and tells you, it is the New Disease; must the Men of Physick become Sufferers for the Womens tittle tattle? But what if a raging Autumnal Epidemical Fe­ver has been sometimes even by Physicians called the New Disease? Is a Disease not to be called New, because it had entred into your Crotchet before, or because you might possibly have read some­thing like it in some antient Au­thor? It is certainly New to John-a-Stiles, and John-a-Nokes, in [Page 66]one sense at least; they never saw, nor heard of it before. But it seems you, and every Novice in Physick might well suspect they had never read Hippocrates or Galen. Whereas if your self had but cur­sorily (as Novices use to do) lookt into Hippocrates, [...], of Epidemical Diseases, you would have found him immediately de­scribing the first, second, and third Constitution of the Air, and the variation of Diseases according to its various Constitution, in the Isle Thasus. And do you, and your Novices think, that this Island of Great Britain is less subject to the various alterations of Air and Sea­sons (and consequently to a great diversity of Diseases) than Thasus was? You must needs have heard that many good Women in our Island do carry Almanacks in their Bones, and do very sadly bemoan the great uncertainty of our Sea­sons. We need not go back to [Page 67] Hippocrates and Galen for the un­derstanding so plain a truth; you might easily have consulted one of our own late Authors, but indeed a Combined Physician, and you might have had sufficient satisfaction in this matter. In his Works, after his excellent Treatise De Morbis Acutis (wherein the Circulation of New Diseases, and New Epidemical Con­stitutions is made as plain as a Pike­staffe) you will find an Epistola Responsoria in Cambridge, a Head of a Medical Colledge there, and he one of Her Majesties Physicians in Ordinary, with Fee, to the Judici­ous Author of the foresaid Treatise. This Epistle from so Great a Man is full of acknowledgments to the Author, for his so nice Observations of the different Constitutions of the Air, many years past, and for gi­ving so Historical an account of the succession of different Epidemical Diseases, according to the predomi­nancy [Page 68]of this or that Constitu­tion.

However you value and set forth that Modern Author, yet I must tell you, I have in divers places of my Tract made him a meer Bumpkin; I scorn to read the Works of our Modern Associates, unless to ridicule and expose them. I do aver, that the gentle Pox excepted, there is not any among all those they have nominated New Diseases, but what is amply described in many an­tient Authors. p. 11.

I know very well that you have shamefully abused many Wor­thy and excellent Men, and can tell the true reason why you have taken such pains to abuse this particularly. When we come to discourse of the Jesuits Powder, you shall have it as freely as I had it. In the mean time let us mind the business before us. The gentle Pox! If it be so gentle, I would fain know why you should think of nothing but Hercu­lean [Page 69]and Gigantean Cures for it, as you unwittingly do it your Little Venus unmaskt. Is it seemly, or be­coming a Man of your Education, that has Travelled so far, to call for Hercules his Club, or a Giant's strong arm to encounter a poor gentle Pox? The Female, the gentle Sex does often suffer under this Di­sease; and will you presently fright the poor Creature out of her wits, with telling her, she must undergo your Herculean or your Gigantean Cure? You are exceedingly un­kind to the little Venus, especial­ly if it be considered, what you observe in the Gigantean Cure, Art. 14. Indeed a Patient had better half hang himself, than undergo this Cure, there being no­thing comparable to the pain in their mouth, anguish about their heart and sides, and the extream thirst they endure, having, like Tantalus, their mouth full of water, and yet ready to perish for want of drink. Nei­ther [Page 70]is this all, some growing Phrenetick in the Cure, others Pa­ralytick and Apoplectick. Momus, if this be your way of curing gentle Diseases, that a Patient had better half hang himself than undergo it, trust me, I'll have a care of you in violent diseases: for by your rule a man had better be quite hang'd than undergo that Cure. Well but if the Pox be not gentle, we'll allow it to be gentile, though not so over-gentile neither, as your Adage would have it: Three Cam­pains and six grand Cures make a Grand Gentleman. The grand Gen­tleman truly is but in a poor condi­tion, if he must undergo no less than six grand Cures, your grand Hermaphroditick gallimaufrey Cures, in order to be so accomplish'd. But the gentle Pox excepted, there is not any, &c. What, have you so soon forgot, that some Distempers, (more than one) had escaped the ob­servation of the Grecian and Arabi­an [Page 71]an Physicians, was evidenced by the eminently learned Doctor Bates, and others, Collegues in that excellent Treatise de Rachitide? You soon forget your Friends, I see, though never so particularly acquainted with them. Here the Rickets, and some other Distempers were solemnly and formally acknowledged to be New Diseases, but the Maggot biting a­nother part of your head, the gen­tle Pox must only be excepted. And are they amply described, and in many antient Authors? I dare venture a Chequeen or two, that you cannot shew me one ancient Author, wherein the Rickets are so amply described.

I can be easily perswaded, that how great an Idol soever a Fel­low is set up by the Vulgar, from the false suggestion of Dog-fleying, he shall never arrive to a sagacity of distin­guishing Diseases, unless he hath from the beginning been trained up to it, by the conduct of able Professors at [Page 72]home and abroad, and frequently visi­ted Hospitals in several Countries. p. 15.

That Fellow, that you make so slight of, is one who spends his whole time so diligently in the ser­vice of the Publick, that you shall hardly for your Jacobus get one mi­nute of his time, more than is ab­solutely necessary. Indeed he's a worthy Member, and Fellow of the College, but he is not a Fellow for every sawcy Jack. He is not made an Idol only by the Vulgar, but is infi­nitely courted and sought to, by the Nobility, and even the Royal Family; and his late Majesty of Blessed Memory (who could pass as good a judgment on a Physician as perhaps any other Prince) did in his last sickness, as I have heard, make Particular Applications to this Fellow, as much at least as to any of his other excellent Physicians. It is abundantly better to be made an Idol in Anatomy by others, than [Page 73]to make an Idol thus pitifully and wretchedly of ones self, as you do, who dare presume to say, I my self have divulged more new Anatomical Obser­vations, which are of greater use, than all of 'em in a bundle. Nor is he set up for an Idol, only from the false suggestion of Dog-fleying; he has fley'd not only many a Dog, but many a Man, who perhaps has not half so well deserv'd to be hanged for stealing, or robbing a poor Thir­teen pence half penny, as those who make it their trade to steal away or rob the good names of Excellent Men. But the best of it is, the mouths of some men are no slander. And so that your false suggestion of Dog-fleying, will never make this great man the less an Anatomist, whose name is spread far and near over the learned World, and much farther than your Travels, so often boasted of, could reach. But alas! He shall never arrived to your sagacity of distinguishing Diseases, unless be [Page 74]hath from the beginning been trained up to it, by the conduct of able Pro­fessors at home and abroad. I could shew, too clearly to your shame, what little sagacity you have in that respect, notwithstanding the multiplicity of your scribling, but that I should be guilty of too te­dious and troublesome a diversion. I could lay before you thousands of indecencies in expression, and such gross follies that a School-boy would deserve to be whipt for 'em. Inso­much that every man of common sense and Education, cannot but see the greatest want of sagacity imagi­nable, in those lesser things, and therefore cannot but shrewdly sus­pect before-hand your sagacity in distinguishing Diseases: So that I doubt extreamly, that you have not been train'd up to it, as Horses are to their paces, with a Whip and Bridle; I fear you broke loose too soon, which might occasion your unproficient wandring into other [Page 75]Countries, from the beginning. But, Momus, you have e'en condemn'd your self; pray what able Professors of the Art of distinguishing Diseases did you learn under at home? For we do not now talk of chopping of Logick, but Physick Professors. I know you can name plenty of Professors abroad, but I defy you to name one Professor at home, from whom you learnt to distinguish Dis­eases, under seventeen Years old, your Year of Perfection, wherein you took the Degrees both of Batche­lour and Doctor.

Let me tell you, it is a rare and extraordinary thing to be ripe so soon as I was. How Peo­ple will stare in a very forward Year to see a handful of green Crabs at Christmass! You may be sure, that if I had got a knock in my Cradle, I should never have come to this perfection at writing Books; besides, I was born a Physician, and frequently visited [Page 76]Hospitals in several Countries.

Bless me, that you should be a sowre Crab so early! You con­firm me much inmy opinion, that it is not good nor safe to send Chil­dren from School (where) they are carefull ykept out of harms way) to the University so soon. Your Friends had better have sent you to a Mansi­on in Moor-fields, than to Exeter Col­lege, when they did. No doubt this great error of theirs did occasion your so rank and desperate a hatred of Colleges ever since. If you had been kept a while longer under a strict hand, you would not have bragg'd, that you were born a Physici­an, whereas all others are fain to take great pains to be one, and do tra­vel over many god Athors, more abundance of them than you did Countries. But the last accom­plishment to your Physick was, that you visited Hospitals, which our Universities do want, and therefore can never sufficiently ac­complish [Page 77]their Scholars with a due Education. We have Hospitals too in London, though not in the Uni­versities, and yet we seldom hear of Students in Physick leaving their Studies, and coming to Town to visit the Hospitals frequently. 'Tis well, if they visit them once in cu­riosity, when their other affairs do bring them to Town. For they know well enough that the Practice of Physick in Hospitals is not to be nicely imitated, when they have taken their Degrees, and are Licen­sed to practise per totam Angliam. What, must Gentlemen and Por­ters, ladies and Oyster-women be serv'd with the same coarse treat­ment? But perhaps the Hospitals a­broad have greater vertue in them to edifie and instruct young Stu­dents. The Able Professors there do wonders, and the hearing them prate magisterially, as if they were reading Lectures without controul in their Schools, may perhaps be of [Page 78]admirable efficacy. No, the most that the Scholars do learn from them (as I have been informed) is to give a Clyster of Decoctum commu­ne, and Electnarium Lenitivum, or to give a large fulsome Bolus of Cassia, or Catholicum, or to take their Bouillon and Ptisan. Truly the practice of Hospitals in your se­veral Countries will not so well agree with the humour of our Countrey. When you are in England you must do as they do in England, as when you were in Rome or paris, you might do as they did in Rome or Paris.

But that which puts almost the last hand to render a man a Phy­sician 9all others, though they have clambered up to a Degree, are little different from Mountebanks or Man­slayers) is to be very well ground­ed in the true Method of Physick, or order of applying proper Remedies, in­ternal and external, to Diseases in their just time and Doses. p. 17.

Some part of this might [Page 79]pass indifferently well: only I can­not but observe, that, whatever you may think, there is abundance of probability, you were not your self so very well grounded in the true Method of Physick, &c. I'll give you an instance or two of it hereafter. But why should you craftily insinuate, as if most Colle­giate Physicians clamber'd up to their Degree (as it is easie to sound the depth of your Intrigues) and so you would proclaim to the people (looking another way) that they are little different from Mountebanks or Man-slayers? I would ask you, which is most likely to be the Clam­berer to Degrees, he that stays at School to sixteen or seventeen at least, and then stays twelve or fourteen Years at the University, before he has the Ambition to think of the Degree of Doctor, or he that at seventeen (your Year of Jubilee) has done with Universities and Travels, and nothing forsooth can content the [Page 80]Youth, but both the Degrees of Bat­chelor and Doctor? It was a Clamber­ing time of Age you took them in; and more, you were then strange­ly upon the Ramble. So that it is too plain, you had not this last hand, the true Method of Physick, to render you a Physician, but the hand of some Cunning Doctor (who knew well enough what he did) was employed first in taking your money, and then conferring upon you (who did covet and as­pire to them) the Titles of Batche­lor and Doctor; I warrant, he re­member'd the old Adage in those pla­ces: Accipimus pecuniam, & dimitti­mus Asinum. Which I leave to your Mother-wit to interpret. And now difference your self from Mounte­banks or Man-slayers.

And now after all this Ap­paratus, we will suppose our Insant-Physician, his mind gaudily painted and daub'd with the antient, uncer­tain, and some new tickling Noti­ons [Page 81]in Medicine, &c. p. 17, 18.

You are still for clapping your childish Fools coat of Infant-Physician upon the back of our Men of Physick. 'Tis mighty sil­ly to call others in contempt by your own Proper name. Of all the Physicians, both far and near, that ever I heard of, I never suspected one man sit to cope with you for right of claiming this Title of In­fant-Physician. Indeed I had thought of the year one and twenty before now, but could never have believed (unless you had told it in the height of your vanity) that a lad of seventeen could by Acade­mick Authority be invested with the power and care of other mens lives, when the Laws of his Coun­trey would not trust him with his own Estate. Well! But his Mind must be supposed to be gaudily paint­ed and daub'd, as his Body is be­deck'd with Ribbands and fine things, and his Head with a Feather [Page 82]in the Cap; so the mind of this Phy­sick-Child or Infant must be gaudily painted like S^t George a Horse-back, and daub'd like the Sign-post, but with what? With the antient uncer­tain, and some new tickling Notions in Medicine. How sadly therefore ought we to lament the unhappy Date of poor Hippocrates and Galen! their antient Notions are all uncertain, and not to be depended upon! We have read them then to little purpose. Hippocrates, you must be no longer Divine, for the Infant-Physician will have it sO. For alas! Momus, the new Notions only are tickling to your lascivious Mind. And why do they tickle you? Only because they are New: which nevertheless I cannot but a little admire, that you sHould be such a friend in a corner to new No­tions, when you are so declared an Enemy to new Diseases.

Now upon application of this Discourse to two or three hundred [Page 83]Physicians, you shall searce find six, tha tcan justly pretend to the title of a good Physician, or whose Education doth hardly qualifie them to be ren­dred such. p. 21. and adding there­unto, that they are insufficiently edu­cated, ignorant, insagacious, and in­expert (as most are) in what a de­sperate case are their patients? p. 22.

Now to me this Discourse of yours, without any tedious exa­mination of a deal of Fiddle-sad­dle, but meerly putting it to be tried by the reason of your Mobile (to whom, and for whose sake, you writ your Tract) or by any one of your able professors at home and abroad; this Discourse, I say, can­not well avoid the being presently condemn'd to be burnt by the hands of the common Hangman. For it is a kind of Heresie in Physick as you apply it. Ʋpon application of it to two or three hundred Physicians, you shall scarce find six, &c. Scarce six! [Page 84]Indeed you sHould have allowed us seven or eight at least in civility. the number seven is by much a more famous number, from the seven Wise men of Greece and Gotham, from the seven Deadly Sins (in which you have such a share) and from its being a Climacterical num­ber. Besides, how many young mens heads are tickled with New Notions, when they come to the seventh year of their Prentice ship. You know they have priviledges that Year greater than ordinary, and can tell how to fit there Hats to their head, nay many of them that year think themselves better men than their masters. And again, the very derivation from seven, seventeen is a number of great note with you. It was the remarkable year of your Assumption of those Titular Degrees, and ought never to be forgotten, being the Clambering year of all. I shall say nothing to the other famous derivation from [Page 85] seven, seventy. Indeed we should have been better contented, if you would have vouchsafed us but eight good Physicians in the two or three hundred. For that is a very compleat number, the most compleat of all numbers, say the Pythagore­ans. I dare not inch any further, guessing at your stingy nature and narrow Soul; a Soul that Pythago­ras will be puzled to find a body upon the next Transmigration, lit­tle enough to contract it self in. We'll never dispute the standing of a thousand such Souls as yours upon the point of a needle. Scarce six, you say, that can justly pretend to the Title of a good Physician. No, not six allowed of, in two or three hun­dred. Pray how came you to be so well acquainted with two or three hundred Physicians? You that have lived in such Physical Obscuri­ty, that you have never shewed your self in the light of the College, which if you had, you had certain­ly [Page 86]been enlightned with a better knowledge of them, than thus to condemn them all, and more than all, by dark and uncertain hearsay. let the Spectators judge who can most justly pretend to the Title of a good Physician, either they who have chearfully submitted to the legal test of a good Physician, the college's Examination, and are thereby re & nomine what they pretend; or he that never dared, or never did submit to be tried by his lawful Peers, as to his abilities, but got an empty Title or Qualifi­cation (thanks to the Courtesie of England), to whoop and hollow thus at bundreds of worthy Persons, he knows very little or nothing of. But their Education doth hardly qua­lifie them to be rendred such. And adding thereunto that they are insuffi­ciently educated, &c. How many times must we hear of their mean and insufficient Education! And how often must your Tracts ring of [Page 87] your wonderful Education, and with a, read the description of my Education in my Casus Med. Chir. Comparisons, you might know, are odious, and Laus in ore proprio foe­tet. You live near very ill Neigh­bours. The good Education of our Collegiates is better proved by their Modesty and Ingenuity, than by Vaunts and Boastings; there are very few of them but can tell sto­ries of their Travels, and Oppor­tunities, as well as Thraso or Momus. But it is not their Court fashion. I shall end this tiresome Rhodomanta­do of yours with your own words, which you ought the rather to be­lieve, because they are your own; After you had, in your natu­ral Philosophy, p. 21. fallen out unmercifully with John Baptista van Helmont (a person that I ex­pected to have found you in love with, for his strange melancholy and extravagant Whimsies) and told us of him, that the Church-yard [Page 88]was the sure Register of his Patients, you adjoin, His Arrogance and Boastings were symptoms of his depra­vate conceptions. And so I conclude this fulsome, unmannerly, concerit­ed, and ridiculous Splutter you make about your Hogen Mogen E­ducation: That your nauseous Boast­ing of it is a certain Symptom of your depravate conceptions.

Ay but now in what a de­sperate case are their patients, they being so ignorant, insafacious, and inexpert, as most of them are? But the matter is not much; the greater part of humanity (I should say inhumanity) not deserving a good medicine, Method, or Care of a good Physician. p. 22. And so in great wrath and dudgeon I have ended the first long Chapter of my Tract.

What, desinere in piscem, end in Wrath, and Anger! But we know you cannot help it, your head and Tail being all of the same Lump. If I might pass a judgment [Page 89]upon your Face from this Chapter, I should think the one side of it paint­ed with the silly Mimick, the other bedaub'd with the sowre Momus. You began it with the rude and im­proper, but still witty, witty, intro­ducing Solomon to laugh with you as you were casting fire-brands at Physicians, and saying, Am I not in sport? And now at last you turn the other side of your Face, and full of anger tell us, that humanity is inhu­manity, and that no body hardly deserves a good Medicine, Method or Care of a good Physician. Momus, the matter would not be much, if the Town and Countrey both were con­demn'd to want your care and assi­stance; for it may be much better for many a humane Creature to have no Physician at all, than such a peevish, testy, unkind, inhumane one as he who makes so slight of humanity in general. When he speaks of humanity, he says he should say inhumanity, as if there were no [Page 90]difference between a Man and his Dog. Come, come, this Town is very well stored (to your hearts grief and discontent) with good medicines, good Methods, and good Physicians, without any need of learning good things from you.

Observation speaks this truth; he that dwelleth a long time upon any particular introductory part of Physick, seldom or never arrives to a considerable proficiency in his Art. p. 23.

Observation also speaks this truth: An empty vessel sounds loudest. Observation says likewise: A good beginning makes a good ending; or as the Poet, dimidium facti qui bene coepit, habet. Now upon application of these observa­tions to your case, Momus, I fear that your dwelling so long a time as you did upon many particular intro­ductory parts of Physick, was the un­fortunate cause that you never arri­ved to a more considerable proficiency [Page 91]in this Art. For t' other day in rummageing a Book-seller's shop to see what rarity I could find, I chanc'd to meet with a thick Quarto of yours, that I never heard of before, called Archeologia Philosophica Nova, or, New Principles of Philo­sophy. You had a good opinion of it, no doubt, for you put your Phis-nomy before it, with your hair comb'd, large Band and Band­strings, with your Out-landish Whiskers, turn'd up à l' Hispaniole, and a Death's head in your left hand. The Work is full of no­thing but the introductory parts of Physick (with which your head was then stuff'd as full as ever it could hold) Philosophy in general; Meta­physicks or Ontology; Dynamilogy, or a Discourse of Power, (not Political but Tautologico-scholastical) Reli­gio Philosophi, or Natural Theo­logy, (dedicated to your Mother, in thanks for your Mother-wit) and lastly, Physicks, or Natural Philosophy.

It is a Book that I shall never be ashamed of. Suspend your Verdict upon those Writings, until you have perused them twice, and then if disrelishing, dishering, false or con­tradicting, to give your self the trou­ble of letting me know my Errors in the Sense of them. But that my further duty may not prove a regret to me, the answering of such desires in latin will oblige me to remain, Courteous reader, your Humble Servant. pre­face.

Peruse them twice! I would not be condemn'd to such a mise­rable drudgery for many a Pistole. He that reads them once, and un­derstands what he does, will have enough and enough of them, I'll warrant him. Young men especi­ally, I would warn to have a care of these Writings; and that they may take the more warning, I'll give them a small taste of the Ocean they will there meet with in his Natural Philosophy.

They will learn there,

That the Chaos had a forme. p. 11.

The different Effects of the seven Knocks of the Chaos.

What the Catochization of a Flame is. p. 145.

Why a potch'd Egg doth commonly rest it self in the middle of the water in a Skillet. p. 66.

Why a Kiss feels pleasing to ones Lips, and why the same delightful feeling happens also to a Dog, apply­ing his Chops to a Bitches Tail. p. 201.

Whence it is that a man may carry a greater weight upon a Wheel-barrow than upon his Back. p. 427.

How Virginals and Organs are made to play by themselves. p. 154.

Why a Squib turns into so many whirles in the Air. 38.

Why Feathers, Cobwebs, and other light bodies do expand themselves, when thrown into the Air. p. 40.

Why a man, whilst he is alive, [Page 94]sinks down into the Water, and is drowned, and afterward is cast up a­gain. p. 105. And there he repre­hends The trying Witches by swim­ming in the water.

That Water is not moist naturally, neither doth it moisten. p. 36.

That the Scent of Excrements smels sweet to a Dog. And that a Dog scents a Bitch a great way off, al­though lock'd up, without seeing of her, and apprehends the Scent under the Tail to be no ill Scent. p. 197.

Now these your profound Phae­nomena being to my dull Apprehen­sion very disrelishing, dis-hering, and meer Whim-wham, you would have me give my self the trouble of exposing your Errors in latin. Without giving my self that trouble, (as you esteem it) the plenty of ac­curate latin Expressions in your Tract de Febribus, has shewed you just as good a latin Scholar, as your New Principles of Philosophy do set you forth for an English one. [Page 95]But however our Mother-tongue be the more proper for expressing our Minds at present, yet I would not have you to despair; for if in good time a fair ocasion offers it self (as much lies you know in your own power, you being hencefroth upon the good Behaviour) I may think it no such great trouble to be the Courteous Reader's humble Ser­vant, with you in Latin.

Mon. Some of these Problemes may be very divertive to Young men. But I have provided in that Work variety of Entertainment for all sorts of Students. I have confu­ted Renè des Cartes his Principles in general, and in particular. I have taught Aristotle to define Nature better than he has done. But the strangest thing of all is, that I should be able to write so large, and learn­ed a Book in English, since it was never my fortune to read two sheets of any English Book in my Life, or ever to have had the view of so much as a ti­tle-leaf [Page 96]of an English Grammar. Preface.

'Twas great pity therefore that you should never have read Lilly's Qui mihi. There are nota­ble Documents in it. But we see what a man may come to, when left to himself betimes. You brought forth a thick Quarto at the very first attempt! But how came you ever since to spawn nothing but Duode­cimo's, and Sexagesimo's? Sure you found that you had ill luck with Quarto's, otherwise we could not have miss'd a Folio all this time.

I do take that Quarto to be the Glory of all my Writings. It was writ like a Philosopher in ear­nest. And they, who perused it twice, as I advised them, could not but ea­sily perceive that I could have writ Folio's enough, if I had thought fit. My chiefest design ever since the seventeenth Year of my Age, when I had just finish'd my course in Physick, and taken my last Degree (Oh brave [Page 97]boys!) consisted in elaborating such demonstrations in Natural Philosophy, as might serve to unfold the nature of Beings in relation to the Art of Phy­sick, hitherto so uncertain, blind and unfounded on Art, that I dare confi­dently assert, &c. ibid. Pref.

Hold, or you'll make me to work [...]. A little at a time, I beseech you. A man may easily surfeit of your demonstrations, they are so hard of concoction, and apt to lie upon the Stomach. And besides, if we take too much of them, we shall have no room for the Banquet that lies before us, the principal design of our present meet­ing. You are a man of as much might in elaborating demonstrations, as Don Quixot was at encountering Giants and Wind-mills. You are no less than a Knight Errant in Physick, gi­ven to vast and daring designs, and as bold as blind Bayard, at the un­folding the nature of Beings, hither­to (God bless us) so blind and un­certain, [Page 98]until all-seeing Bayard dares confidently assert, what in his Wis­dom and deep Politicks he shall think fit. It is in troth a thousand pities that every conceited soft-head should thus be suffered to venture upon removing Mountains so much above their strength, or to elaborate demonstrations in Natural Philosophy. You soared at high and lofty matters from the year you were absolutely spoil'd in, the seventeenth year of your Age, for ever afterwards; and from Puer imi subsellu in the Physick-Schools, from receiving Dictates to day, nothing forsooth can content your ambitious mind, but the be­ing Doctor in Cathedrâ, the teach­ing your Masters to morrow. Re­member the Fate of young Icarus, who would not be perswaded to hearken unto good Counsel. He flew high, as well as you in your younger days. But what came of it? His wings were soon melted by the heat of the Sun, as yours are [Page 99]like to be by any little Degree of heat, by way of answer. Why the young man whilst he is alive sinks down into the water, and is drowned, as you have it before, to the just terror of over-forward Youths, who shall aspire at such high mat­ters, as to teach Cicero to perform the part of an Orator, Hannibal the Art of War, or even Aristotle how to define Nature, or Grave Professors any thing else in relation to the Art of Physick, or the Science of Natural Philosophy.

You may save your labour, and counsel those that will hearken to you. But will you take so lit­tle notice of a Book of that mag­nitude? It is worth your Perusal more than you are aware.

Well, if we must lose some more time, let us have your opini­on of the Divines, which made way for your New Natural Theo­logy.

The Divines heavy dull [Page 100]imaginations hallucinating in the ap­pearance of the Scriptures, like seve­ral eyes in apparent objects of the Sky, some framing this, others that like­ness of them. I am not now to be confirmed in my belief that the worst of Atheism is latent in many suppo­sed Divines, their sinister ends, cheats, and vile secret passions of the flesh, be­traying their Hypocrisy. Certainly, were I to pick (out of my own Pro­fession) some that were to surmount all others in wickedness, I should not need long time to ponder upon my Verdict. Pref. You see I am not afraid to shoot my Bolt at them too, for their heavy dull Sentiments in Theology. They do confound their small relicks of Natural Faith into a detestable Atheism, however cloathed with a dis­sembled time-holiness under their dark habits, to feed their covetousness out of their Benefices. Ibid.

Fie, fie! doth such Bil­lingsgate Rhetorick become a man with Spanish Whiskers, and a Deaths-Head [Page 101]in his hand? And it is the greater aggravation of your fault, that you use such bitter expressions so near the Title leaf, and hang them over the Door, that they may be seen by all those who have neither leisure, nor will, to enter into the Work it self. Besides, it was not well done, to put them for an Introduction to your Religio Philosophi, because they neither contain the Moderation and Chari­ty of True Religion, nor the Tem­perance and Sobriety of True Phi­losophy. I'll warrant, that pretty tickling Title of Religio Medici did run to and fro in your head, and you were grievously sorry that it was taken up before. For other­wise I dare confidently assert, you would never have been contented with Religio Philosophi. But if you will give me leave to deliver my Verdict, and without long pondering upon the Business, you ought in propriety of speech, to have called [Page 102]it Morosophia Juvenilis, or Religio Stulti. You know I reprehended you a little for abusing Solomon's Words, and grinning as you did when you made him mingle Nonsense. But now in a serious mood, deliberate­ly, and in prepense Malice, to call so many Divines, without restriction, Cheats, and Hypocrites, Blockheads and Atheists, deserves a more severe Correction than an ordinary Repri­mand. I have seen naughty Youths of above seventeen whipt soundly for much less faults. Now as for that detestable thing called Atheism, I should think it very serviceable for the publick, if all Boys, and Buf­foons, inconsiderate Scriblers, and Soft-heads, were strictly prohibited from medling at all with it. For all their weak and ridiculous defences of Truth against Atheism do only serve to raise Devils which they have not the Wit to lay again. And to conclude, I have that just veneration for Holy Persons, and [Page 103] Holy things, (which no body ought so much as to play with, much less mortally to hate) that I would ra­ther e'en suffer you (as you did be­fore) to bewray your own Nest, than profanely to meddle with matters of Theology.

Why, then let us return and see how affairs stand with the Conclave. There you will discern that some Physicians get a greater Re­putation by killing, than others by cu­ring. p. 28.

You know best who those Some Physicians are that have such a cunning knack of getting reputati­on. They may be your Particular Acquaintance, and you speak inde­finitely of them. Indeed some Phy­sicians (who are tried and experi­enced in their Art, and are known to be through-paced in the Practice of Physick) though they may have some Patients dye under their hands, let them do their best, may yet de­serve, and doubtless do get greater [Page 104]Reputation by their excellent Ma­nagement and apparent Skill, than others, either desperate Chymists, or professed Empiricks, or other ignorant Undertakers can possibly deserve, though a Patient may have escaped under their hands. Momus, I do much doubt, for all that we have your word for it, that any inhumane Physicians of your Acquaintance do get such mighty Reputation by downright Killing, and more than our Collegiates do by their Curing; take my word for this, that however the Curers may for some time (as you know there is a time for all things) be hindred in gaining their deserved Reputati­on, yet one Curer will at the long run become conspicuous in the face of the Sun, and in the middle of this great City, when an hundred of your infamous Killers must be fain to lurk in obscurity and little corners, not daring to shew their heads before the face of the Illustri­ous Curer.

Some Physicasters by re­puting themselves Virtuoso's, Ma­thematicians, Philosophers, and witty Cracks, have insinuated this Enthymeme to the Commonalty, that therefore they must necessarily arrive to the top of their Profession; for since their porous Brain was ca­pable to imbibe such knotty Mysteries, it's not improbable, they might much easier suck up the quintessence of the Art of Medicine. To this Category belong'd that famed Doctor of Nor­wich, who being Posted away from his House with a Coach and Four, to a sick Gentleman, &c. p. 49.

Do those Physicasters re­pute themselves Virtuoso's, Mathe­maticians &c. as wretched and pi­tiful Scriblers do repute them­selves good Writers? Or are not those Virtuoso's, Mathematicians, and Philosophers, insipidly called Physicasters? The Virtuoso, among all the rest, that you pitch upon to fleer at is, forsooth, that famed [Page 106]Doctor of Norwich, the very man to whom you were so highly be­holding for furnishing you with that notable hint of Religio Philoso­phi, taken plainly from that leading Card, Religio Medici. But it is not fair, that because one excellent Physician, a man of sense, did once write a Religio Medici, that there­fore every Sylliton must follow the Example, and broach New Religi­ons, or rather Irreligious Whimsies to the Worlds end. but why is it that you have such an aking tooth at this ever-famous Doctor of Nor­wich, that City being seated so much out of the way, and at such a distance from London? Certainly your mouth water'd at that Pro­vince for your Practice; and it is the more likely, because you made two Stages of your Practice, in the way towards it, at Chelmsford, and at Ipswich. Indeed you did not stay long in those places, whether it were that you had some final in­nuendo's [Page 107](as you call them) from the ill-affected Inhabitants to depart in peace from among them, or that it be the destiny of your trouble­some life to be always an Erratick Physicaster, and upon the Travel, as it is said some Physicians of old were; though the difference is great be­tween their Travels and yours: the fame of those old Physicians did cause them to be courted out of one Countrey into another, whereas the miscarriages of New-fanglers, do make every Country think it a bles­sed riddance to part with 'em. And now let us consider the pret­ty story you tell of this Eminent Doctor. The catching a gawdy But­terfly made him lose so much time, that the Patient was dead before he came. Here I observe that you make them hunt the Butterfly so long, that one would think they were ra­ther hunting a wild Bore, or a stur­dy Stag, than a poor fluttering But­terfly. [Page 108]Again, the Coach-driver is made to have no more wit, than to leave his four Horses to the wide World, and to go a hunting too over Hill and Dale, after the Fly: And what was the Patient's disease? A Syncopal Fit, or in plain English, a Swound. Do Syncopal Fits use to last so long, whilst four Horses can be harnessed, and sent to the Doctor, and his coming expected? You shew us here your great Skill in Diseases. Syncope est praeceps omnium virium lapsus: A Swound is a sudden failure of the Faculties, both Vital and Animal. The very Pulse is gone, and the Person too for good and all, if there be not some Friends by to throw water in his Face, to lay him upon his Back, to pull him by the Hair, to wind his Fingers, and to give him some Cordial immediately. They are not to fold their hands, and be meer Spectators, waiting for the Doctor's Cordial, and Presence. [Page 109]If they be so silly, the Gentleman will be as cold as Marble, long be­fore the Doctor can come, let him poste away as fast as he will. Doubt­less therefore the Doctor was sent for, by way of prevention against the future, not to cure in all haste the Syncopal Fit. So that, Momus, you have told a very likely Tale, and the Virtuosi are like to suffer much by it.

The Mathematician you fling at, for getting the Reputation of a Great Physician upon that account, is really a very extraordinary Per­son, and deservedly arrived to the very top of his Profession; he has approved himself not only a Prime Physician, but a most Dextrous Surgeon, he is not only a most A­cute Mathematician, but a man of universal Learning, and lastly a most accomplish'd Courtier, and every way very much a Gentle­man. But because your head is shallow, no body's else must have [Page 110]any depth; because your Worm takes up such a deal of room, Great Men must not be allowed one spare corner, even for the Mathematicks. Aristotle is said to observe, that e­very idle Coxcomb can make a Phi­losopher of one kind or other, but that only curious Wits are capable of learning to purpose those Knotty Mysteries, the Mathematicks.

Philosophers, and Philosophy, are now-a-days a thing exceeding cheap and common, and though it were once an inestimable Jewel, yet it hath been so often counterfeited and abused by insipid and fantasti­cal Youngsters, scribling Books of Natural Philosophy, that there are few of the Conclavists that will now so mightily contend for it. Yet there is one thing, wherein I can­not but acknowledge them very Great Philosophers. They have for divers years undergone your inso­lent Taunts, and vile Detractions, with a Philosophical Patience, and [Page 111]Magnanimity, nay even with a kind of Stoical Insensibility, when they had Pens among them, which could put you to so much confusion and shame; that if you have any sense of Truth, Honesty, or Honour, you could not avoid the more than half-hanging your self, rather than un­dergo the torment they would put you to.

As for your Witty Cracks, we shall give you free leave (and take it kindly of you) to ingross the whole Monopoly of that Commo­dity to your self, and your Cronies, if you have any. A Crack is a Common Shore of filth and nasti­ness, that hath lost all sense of shame or modesty. She represents all good Men to be bad, and bad she makes to be worse than they are. She is made up of Lyes, De­ceit and Hypocrisie; and take this for a Truth, Whatsoever she says is false. Never believe her stories, though she swears upon her Soul, [Page 112]or her Salvation, or though she does (with you in your Preface) protest, and call Heaven to witness, to this Wheedle, or to that Untruth. And the wittier the Crack is, so much the more is she to be avoided. For she will pick your Pocket in her Embraces, and her Snares are hard to be discovered. She is a dangerous and infectious Creature, and let her paint, or mask it how she will, she'll at last make you to find by sad, though late, Experience (as one of them once told a Gen­tleman of my Acquaintance, who taxed the Damosel for unkindly gi­ving him more than his due) that if you will fish, you must catch Frogs sometimes. How came she by it?

The only sure way to escape the Infection of Witty Cracks, is the same we observe for avoiding the Plague, to fly before them, and not to come near them. For if you will dally and play about their Flame, think it no marvel if your [Page 113]wings be burnt some time or other, and at last you meet not with a gentle, but virulent and destructive Pox.

But alas! The heads of the Com­monalty are apt to be intoxicated with Enthymems and Categories, or rather to be puzled with Fustian and Bombast. You tell them, in pure Nonsense, that the Physicaster's porous Brain is thought capable to imbibe Knotty Mysteries, as if Knots were liquid, and the imbibing, or drinking Knots were as common as drinking the King's Health. And by the same Catachrestical Meta­phor they suck up the Quintessence of Medicine, whereas it is much safer for a Ninny to suck a Bull than to suck Medical Quintessences, because they are so hot in the mouth. Now, Momus, you see what it is for half-witted people to meddle with Wit. Wit is a two-edged Tool, that Fools and Children are absolutely forbid to play with. If [Page 114]they do, 'tis ten to one they cut their own fingers with it, before they have done.

You have been horrible tedious upon this Paragraph, and will tire a sober Reader's Patience. I have great variety of divertising and curious passages for you, and you e'en run your self out of breath upon one thing. Leave this light and whimsical Raillery, and you shall hear me preach serious and sober Matter.

The field is so large and fruitful, that I cannot help expati­ating in it. A tolerable good Phy­sician will draw some good out of any ill Plant, and you are well ac­quainted with that trite Aphorism (though you know best, who made it an Aphorism) viz. that there is nothing so hurtful or poisonous, be it Spider or Toad, but hath it's use. p. 97. And so you must give me leave to provide you some good and beneficial Instructions, though the [Page 115]Subject be never so bad. Why, e­very Paragraph could spin out into a laudable Duodecimo, or Sexagesi­mo, if there were not such an abun­dance of new matter pressing ear­nestly for admittance. Therefore let us hear you preach some sober serious business.

Those who shall have listed themselves in the Service of the great God, and by assuming Orders, di­stinguish themselves from the Laity; exercising that most honourable Fun­ction, by praying, preaching, and their exemplary Life and Conversati­on, to the glory of their great Master, and the saving of Souls from Perdi­tion, those I say that shall do this only for a time. &c. p. 57, 58.

Bless me! That such good Words should drop out of so foul a mouth! That a man who so late­ly profaned God's Priesthood, and called the Divines Cheats, Hypo­crites, and Atheists, should now so strangely transform himself into a [Page 116] precious Saint! that most honourable Function, the great God, their great Master, and the saving of Souls from Perdition: These are very se­rious words, and ought not to be used in Masquerade. Doubtless you would never have thus lifted up your Eyes to Heaven, proclaim­ed a Fast, and made this Preach­ment; unless the murthering some man's Reputation were very near. Momus, this Nation has suffered too much already from the Intrigues and Designs, and the direful Effects of Hypocritical Canting. We should as soon believe Hugh Peters Incarnate again, as give any credit to you, when you preach Godli­ness. But tell me, what mischief is now upon the Anvil, and against whom?

It is against one, who (Scelus horrendum!) from the Di­vine Ministery, betook himself to the Exercise of Physick. Do you think that I (who could be heartily [Page 117]contented that there were no Phy­sicians at all, and with whom it has been a Maxim a good while, The fewer Physicians the better:) think you that I can endure with Pati­ence, that other Professions should thus dare to trespass upon their Neighbours Copy-hold, or Fee? My Wrath rises at such men, let them be never so Learned.

You are much in the right, Momus, in what you said last, yet it was much to the Glory of Caesar, that he was ex utroque Caesar, that be had both the Pen of an Excel­lent Orator, and could write curi­ous Commentaries with it; and al­so that he had a keen and invincible Sword, with which he cut down all his Superiours, and established himself in the Imperial Throne. The Soul and the Body are linked together in a most strict Union, and in all likelihood the Physicians of the Soul have full as hard, if not a harder Task, to cure mens [Page 118]Vices, and correct their Manners, than Physicians of the Body can have to cure their Diseases, and purge their Bodies from peccant humours. But yet the Person you mean has proved no shatter-brain in the Faculty of Physick, nor has he spent his time to little purpose, like an unsteady Rambler; he has taken his Doctor's Degree where you were once, to their shame and sor­row, Matriculated.

Can it be imagined, that one who had for several years mount­ed the Pulpit, should to increase his Fame in Physick, be guilty of so pal­pable an Imposture, as to assert pub­lickly, that by giving six grains of Salt of Ambar, he had caused a Drop­sical Patient to piss the measure of a Kilderkin? In short, libera nos from those that practise Physick in Nomine Domini. p. 62, 63.

This wild Freak, and im­probable Chimaera, can hardly be i­magined by any but Momus himself. [Page 119]You may as well publickly assert, that it has rained Nuts and Suggar-plums, or that you can cure all incurable Diseases with a wet Finger, as per­swade the World that a man of sense, especially a Physician of the Conclave, should thus sillily talk of curing Dropsies. The true State of the case, according to the best information I have of it, is thus: This Physician, and another of the same Confederacy, joined in Consultation, upon a Pa­tient that had been troubled with the Strangury, and who had hardly made any water in nine or ten days, did advise the taking Salt of Ambar, among other things; not six grains, as you ignorantly pronounce, but more than three times six, and re­peated Doses. The things he took did open the Tap, and set the wa­ter a running, not to a Kilderkin (you might as well have said to a Tunn) but to about a Gallon, which was much to the Patient's Ease, as well as the mirth of sneering Bus­soons. [Page 120]This was the Foundation upon which you built this pretty contrivance of a story, wherein you mistook unconscionably the Patient's Disease, the Remedy and the Effect. And by such gross or wilful mistakes in one Case a man may judge of your Candour and Sincerity in the rest. But, in short, you are not for libera nos from those that practise Physick in Romi­ne Domini, you are altogether for those that practise Physick in Romine Diaboli.

Ʋpon those, that lay so weighty a stress on their Opiniator Methods, ought to be imposed a Voy­age to Russia, there to exercise their Galenicisms upon the Boyars, and o­thers of their next subordinate quali­ty, who receive Physick from the hands of their Medico's upon no other condition or terms, than if the Pills, Potions, Powders, and Bleedings, have not the pretended success, those that advised them, are to justifie the [Page 121]rationality and experience of them up­on their own Bodies, in a double pro­portion. As thus: A noble Patient having by three or four Bleedings re­ceived a palpable prejudice, or possibly his untimely dispatch into the other World, the advising Physician for a punishment of his unwarrantable and unskilful rashness, is to be blooded six or eight times, &c. p. 76, 77.

What sort of Medical Hotch-potch are you made of, Mo­mus, that thus unwittily talk of O­piniator Methods, and Galenicisms. Ever now and then you besprinkle your Tracts with the venerable Name of Galen, and would hint as if you were not a little vers'd in his Methods and Writings, but now they are all Galenicisms, and ridi­culous Solecisms, as the Worm will have it. Neither the Novelties of Helmontius, or Renè des Cartes please you at all, nor the antient Methods of Galen, which have pass'd the Test and Approbation of so [Page 122]many ages. New and Old, Jest and Earnest, Right or Wrong, are all alike Bad, when Momus in his Dream stumbles upon them. And who is the greater Opiniator? Ei­ther Galen, who was so modest, that he never put his Name (much less his Picture) before any of his Books, as you may read in his seventh Book, de Methodo Medendi; or Momus who writes his Name to e­very Tract in Great Letters, and who one while writes himself Physician in Ordinary to his Majesty, and in the time of the Rebellion, Fellow of the College of Physicians at the Hague (thanks to his Mother's Bohemian Interest) another while he styles himself (after his Name in Great Letters) Med. Spag. Dogm. Chir. & Phil. D. perhaps in imitation of Dn. Aureol. Philip. Theophrast. Bom­bast. ab Hoenhaim, or Paracelsus. To day he tells you his Name, with plain M. D. without a word of his Degree of Batchelor; to morrow [Page 123]he is only Physician in Ordinary to His Majesty, and not a word of the College at the Hague. So that, Momus, you are always at variance even with your own Titles. A Lad at School shall have something to do, to turn and wind a Golden Verse into Changes, so often as you can do your Gilded Titles.

Every Body can't vary the Phrase, as I have had the Honour to do, in the Title-Leaf. But what think you, would not that excel­lent Custom of Russia, if practised here, make our Galenists to quit the English Stage, and to travel, as I have done, into other Coun­tries?

You are grosly ignorant, I perceive, of the State of Russia, or else abominably malicious. How­ever I shall give my self the trouble to inform you a little. The Musco­vites have so fond an opinion of the Physicians Skill, that they do make him to be Infallible, and Om­nipotent [Page 124]in his way, and if a Pati­ent miscarry, they impute it to his want of will to save the man, and not to Nature, or the defect of Art. Hence some of them, as being bred meer Barbarians, and being all ignorant in any point of Learning, may perhaps pass some indignities upon their Physician, when he does not fully answer their groundless Expectation. But that conceit of yours, their making the Physician to bleed a double quantity himself, and the swallowing down double the quan­tity of a Purge he gives, when it has not the desired effect, I do take to be the pure invention of Momus, who cannot for his life tell a story as he should do, but has the frail memory of common Liars, and so adulterates every Truth he hears with some gross alloy of Falshood. It is no new thing for the best Phy­sician to meet sometimes with an unworth treatment. And so Pro­sper Alpinus de Medicin. Aegypt. [Page 125]lib. 1. cap. 3. tells us how Physick came to degenerate there from the Rational Antient Methods into a meer obsequiousness, and the treat­ing or flattering Symptoms, instead of encountering the Causes of Dis­eases, as Galen teaches to do in his 9^th Book de Meth. Med. Hic cor­ruptus medendi modus non à prisco­rum illorum medicorum ignorantiâ principium duxit, sed ut ex Aegypti­is historiarum peritis audivi, à bar­barâ priscorum Aegypto imperantium tyrannide; tempore enim quo Mama­luchi illiusce regionis obtinebant im­perium, omnia ea loca Medicis doctis­simis florebant, qui dogmaticê sum­mâque cum ratione medicinam facie­bant, sed tanta erat ea in dominis barbaries, ut optimi illi doctissimique medici vel rebus benè gestis saepè lucri loco ab iis contumeliis afficerentur. Illorum aliquis dolore aliquo corre­ptus non secùs quàm furens bestia, su­bitò ut sanaretur imperabat, quod cùm non semper ita citò eveniret, pessimè [Page 126]miseros eos Medicos tractabat. Alpi­nus has in the same place much more to the same purpose. But to re­turn to Russia, (without the imposi­tion of a Voyage thither) although some particular brutish Bojar (who perhaps knows no difference be­tween a Pearl and a Pebble, and who probably is not so well civili­zed as a Boore or a Peasant in the Southern parts of Europe) may pos­sibly have been as rude as a Bear, and as unmannerly to his Physici­an, as the Author of the Conclave is to the Faculty of Physick; yet the Czars, or Emperors of Russia, have more than once applyed themselves to our Princes, to beg the Favour of a Physician from hence. In Quene Elizabeth's time the Fame of our Learned and Skilful Collegiates had so far reached the Ears of the Czar, that he sent Letters on pur­pose to that Great Queen, to be­seech her, that she would send him a Physician to his Person. And the [Page 127] Queen sent him Doctor James, a Fellow of the College, with a Royal Letter, in which, among others, are these words. Quòd hominum genus (meaning Physicians) quoniam & plurimarum rerum cognitionem, & morum probitatem non vulgarem po­stulat; Noluimus vel non parum pro­vidae esse salutis tuae, vel negligenter honoris nostri, quin virum tàm probi­tatis laude insignem, quàm cognitionis in re medicâ, usâsque laude com­mendatissimum, ad te mitteremus, eáque propter è domesticis, è nostris ex eorum numero, qui corporis salutis­que nostrae, secundum Deum, custodes sunt, Robertum Jacob. in Medicinâ Doctorem, virum literatum artis suae peritissimum, morum honestate proba­tissimum, ad te mittimus; non quia libenter eo careremujs, sed quoniam ti­bi, tanguam nobis volumus & cogita­mus facere benè: Eum ut pari cum gratiâ à nobis accipias, & honore me­rito prosequaris, etiam atque etiam ro­gamus, &c. The Annals of the Col­lege [Page 128]do mention others afterwards sent thither on the same account, whither there would hardly have ventured a Second after the First, if they had not known how to va­lue men, under God so exceedingly useful. The Learning of the Russians goes no farther than to write and read in their own Language. And he that can do that, is a great Scho­lard among them. One of our sorry Astrologers, who has Skill e­nough to understand an Ephemeris, and thence to read and foretel the time of the Moon, and Eclipses, shall infallibly be esteemed a Conju­rer, and a dealer in the Black Art. They think there is more Wisdom in the Beard than the Word of him that has a Beard, than the Oath of a smooth-fac'd Gentleman. They will write upon their Knees, though a Table stands before them. They are a savage, sottish, shameless peo­ple, (as Olearius tells us) and can [Page 129]never learn any good of their Neighbour-Countries, because eve­ry Russ is forbid upon severe penal­ty to travel, or see Fashions abroad; and if any Rambler has not the wit to hold his tongue, but must be blabbing what fine things he has seen without doors, his Tongue shall most certainly be cut out, that he may tell no more Tales. The best of it is, they are of a healthy and strong Constitution, and are seldom sick, Drunkenness excepted. When they are, Garlick and Strong-waters are all their Remedies (even in a Feaver) because they know no better. But now their Bojars begin to know the happiness of having a good Physici­an, and can distinguish well enough between such a one a Mounte­bank, who will commonly let down his Breeches before them, and shew all he has to the Multitude, in order to recommend his other Accom­plishments.

I have enough and enough of these Muscovians, but after I had [Page 130]flung my Wild-fire to frighten my Conclave-Enemies, I gave you a Me­moire of fatal Memory. But did the publick good so much influence any ho­nest judicious Physician, as to become an Observator of such Methodists; in the space of a year he might exceed a Volume larger than the Septuagints; but then for that term it's necessary he should have a Sauve-garde, to save his Brains from being knock'd out. p. 79.

I know your beloved Max­im: Fling dirt enough, and some will stick; and know from whom you learn'd it in your Travels. We fear no just and honest Observator. Such an Observator is one that has wit and ingenuity in abundance. He writes good sense and apposite words, and scorns to rake the Ken­nel for abominable and filthy sto­ries to abuse and bespatter his Su­periors. In a word, he is so consi­stent with himself, that let him write never so many Volumes, he will defie Momus to convict him of [Page 131] one plain Ʋntruth. We know like­wise, what a long and hard Labour you had to bring forth the First Part of your Conclave, and what Pain and Gripes you have endur'd about it, ever since the Publication of your Casus. There in the Descri­ption of your Unfortunate, and ill­bestowed Education you give us in Short-hand an Abbregè or Embryo of this illshapen Monster; you told us there in few words the greatest part of those unlikely stories, which were in time, and with good hus­bandry, to grow into a distinct Pamphlet. But considering how large the Town is, and how wil­ling many an angry Nurse, dis­carded Apothecary, or discontent­ed Melancholick Patient, might prove to furnish scandalous matter for your premeditate and long­intended purpose; certainly you had but very little Interest, or Power, and would find it a harder task than you think it, to take [Page 132]together a sufficient number of scandalous Aspersions, in order to equal, much less exceed a Volume larger than the Septuagints, in the space of a year. Especially if you do take the Septuagints to be seventy Volumes, as perhaps you may. But it may be you might have taken the hint of the Septuagints from its dear Relation to the Year seventeen, the Year of Triumph, and ever­joyful Memory, for sake of those early Degrees of yours, both of Bat­chelor and Doctor. Again, What great matter is there in your Second Part of the Conclave, besides Cram­be his costa, the same jarring Tune grateing ingenious Ears over again, a little more stuff of the Jesuits Powder, of which it is very easie to collect enough to make a Dis­course, after so much written, as there is, by the French, and others, concerning it. Then indeed you shew your Wit as well as Goodness, in most shamefully perse­cuting [Page 133]the Ghost of the late Glory of Physick, Dr. Willis. De mortu­is nil nisi benè, say we; but with you it is, Nil nisi malè tm de mor­tuis quàm vivis. After this, you add almost four leaves of Animad­version, on the five leaves in the First Part, which are said to con­tain the chief Subject of this Treatise; all the rest being doubtless very impertinent, or at least of mean concern, in comparison with the Chief-subject. Next, you give the Apothecaries more of your Cor­rection than they deserve, which must needs cause a very strange Wonderment in any one, that does not consider it is Kindness of Momus his bestowing. After which, you entertain us with a long Story of a Lady, which single Story you call in the Title of the Chapter, Some eminent Cases in Physick. Now if it were so easie as you would hint, to exceed a Volume larger than the Septuagints, with your scurrilous, [Page 134]and often profane Ribaldry, you would not serve us as you do, fill our expectations with some eminent Cases in Physick, and at last put us off with one only Case and no more.

But then (if you should write so large a Volume) for that term (or rather for that piece of Nonsense) it's necessary youshould have a Sauve­garde, to save your Brains from being knock'd out. No, no! Momus, you need not fear the knocking out of that which you never had, or lost long agoe. Your Skull is thick enough to defend you a­gainst Knocks, and especially of such who use only Argumenta Ga­lenica, not Bacilina. We never order Madmen to be knock'd o'tho' head, but to be tyed and bound fast enough, and to be kept in safe Custody that they may do no more mischief, either to themselves, or others. And, Momus, I dare ingage, that's all you need fear from our Actions of the Cases how [Page 135]large a Volume so ever you scribble, Of eminent Cases in Physick.

I am not only of opinion, but possibly certain, &c. p. 83.

We shall not have room for all your odd Opinions, and pos­sible Certainties; or rather plain un­certainties. We should run into a Volume larger than the Septuagints, if we should undertake to examine the truth of all your idle Opinions, and uncertain possibilities; or your Whimsical Conceits, frequent Inco­herences, pert and dul Expressions, and the gross Errors you commit, even in your own Mother-Tongue. This is not possibly the last time you and I may meet. And I would have some pity upon the Reader, not to overcharge him too much at a time; lest he should come to nau­seate the very sight of such course and insipid Fare, as you do help us to. Give us some of your Certain Conclusions, which you have drawn (by head and shoulders) from [Page 136]the best of your Observation.

Why then, I may justly conclude, among a hundred Physici­ans you shall find ninety five learned Mountebanks, and possibly five Real Physicians. p. 85.

The whole Body of the College does not yet make up the Number of a hundred Physicians, so that (to fill up) we would admit one scabbed Sheep into the sound Flock, in hopes to cure him. But where to place you, I know not. Sure you will not have the impu­dence to pretend to a Place among the five Real Physicians; and as for the Learned Mountebanks, in troth you have not yet deserved so good a Title. For it is no great point of Learning to resolve Phaenomena a­bout Wheel-barrows and Potch'd Eggs, to descant upon the Whirles of Squibbs, or the Expansion of Fea­thers and Cobwebs; but especially about the Application of a Dog's Chops to a Bitches Tail, or to expli­cate [Page 137]and give deep Reasons why a Dog apprehends the Scent of the Ex­crements under the Bitches Tail to be no ill Scent. These nice points might do very well for a Merry-Andrew, but can by no means become the Gran­deur and Dignity of a Learned Moun­tebank. Learning is a thing of great Value and deserved Esteem, even a­mong the Unlearned. It is a Rarity too in my Opinion, and unless we look after True Learning among a hundred Physicians, I cannot tell where to find it in such plenty among a hundred of any other Profession. You conclude then, that there are Ninety five Learned Men in the hundred Physicians, but your kind­ness must be [...], bitter as well as sweet, they must be Moun­tebanks forsooth! Prithee which are most like Mountebanks, either those Modest, Learned, Methodi­cal, and Experienced Men, who never vaunt and boast more than they can do, but often do more [Page 138]than they say; or he that dares pre­sume to say, I my self have divulged more new Anatomical Observations, which are of greater use, than all of 'em in a Bundle. See Preface, and who, p. 100. presumes to say, I dare undertake in a Weeks time, to inform the most illiterate Capacity, having but an ordinary Memory, how to manage those five Courses (before mentioned) with a better Method, and far greater Success, than any of these Anatomical Pretenders ever were fortuned with. And I can easily make it appear, that it is possible to comprehend as many plain and neces­sary Instructions, Rules, and Reme­dies in one single Sheet, that by obser­ving of them, any man without other advice may in most Cases cure himself, with far greater safety, speed, and success, than the best of the Pretend­ers to Anatomy could ever yet chal­lenge, or lay claim unto. Ibid.

Here you have outdone Thessalus himself, that most impudent pre­tender, [Page 139]as Galen calls him, and gives us an account of him in his first Book de meth. medendi, a sub­ject you are often apt to talk of. This brazen-fac'd Empirick was grown to that heighth of folly and rashness, at Rome, that he proclaim­ed he could teach the whole Art of Physick in half a Years time, without mens applying themselves to any other study, or learning any thing more. Wherefore Coblers, Diers, Carpenters, and Smiths, being enticed by his bold and easie pretences, did at that time, says Galen, whole crowds of them leave their Handycrafts, and under that Master did betake them­selves to physick (which ought to have been most Sacred to such men) to the destruction of Mankind. What would that great Physician have said, think you, if he had heard of your dare undertake in a Weeks time at London, and of your one single sheet, wherein you say, you can easily make it appear, that any [Page 140]man may by you be taught in most cases to Cure himself with far greater safety, speed, and success, than the best of the pretenders to Anatomy could ever yet challenge, or lay claim unto: Whereas that through-pac'd admirable Physician, in the Book aforesaid, used the very argument of Anatomy against Thessalus his shameful pretences, urging that all Philosophers, and knowing men, did with one consent agree, that no man could be able to Cure Diseases, nor had any right to offer at it, until he had first search'd in­to the nature of the whole Body, by understanding its Anatomy. Now though half a year be a very short time for Carpenters, Diers, and Smiths, to learn the whole Art of Physick, you have out-shot him exceedingly, who can in one single sheet, and in a Weeks time, teach any man stranger things than all the Empiricks before you. One word more: though Thessalus did [Page 141](as you now do) speak mighty things of himself, and in an Epistle he writ to Nero, had these arro­gant expressions: Seeing that I do make a new Sect of Physicians, and the only one of all that is true, because all the Physicians who have been before me, have writ nothing that is useful, either to the preser­vation of Health, or the Cure of Diseases. And afterwards says he, Hippocrates has taught pernicious Principles. At this rate did that Rhodomontado then yelp against Physicians, and though he did crack and bounce (as you will needs now do) yet what is become of his Communitates and Syncritica, &c. They are all gone, perished and forgot. We should never have heard of the Wretch by his own Writings, unless Galen had thought fit to give a check to his presumpti­on, by vouchsafing to expose his folly to Posterity. Now you, Mo­mus, must expect a worse fate of [Page 142]Oblivion; for though you have provoked with tooth and nail the Galens, as well as the Galenists of our time, to take notice of your malevolent and scurrilous Pam­phlets against the Faculty, yet you see none of those great men will do you that Honour, looking on your rage and madness with more Contempt than Anger. I would advise you to write your next Pro­ject against Physicians in Latin, and if you follow the Copy of that pure, elegant, smooth, and oh how excellent Pattern of that nonpareil de Febribus, you will give the greater diversion; however take your own way, write either in your own style, having a care of Priscian's head; or after that indif­ferent good Latinist, Thomas Willis his style, I'll promise you for your Comfort, you shall be answered in Latin (the thing you once long'd for) and if the best Pens be too busie to mind you, you shall have [Page 143]your Match at least, a Pen (don't you doubt) as good as your own, and of a Galemst too, a great ad­mirer of excellent men, a natural Enemy both to Fopps and turbu­lent Spirits, and yet one who will give even a Devil in Physick his Due.

But is not that a great matter for a lonely solitary man, who so seldom sees the face of any Real Physician, and who scorns to have any Knowledge of them; is it not a mighty matter that he should thus be able to teach all the World out of his own simple Ob­servation?

Yes, yes, it would be won­derful strange, if Sir Politick should among his other Conclusions, draw as Army of forty Thousand Men out of the Ventricles of his Brain, and muster them in his Bed-Chamber, whilst a Man can crack a Nut. It would be a wonderful matter if a Lad should write good Latin, be­fore [Page 144]he can speak common Sense; but especially if a Child should at seven years old, or a Boy before se­venteen (the year that it has been done in, to our everlasting asto­nishment) should, because he crys and roars, be dubb'd Batchelor and Doctor, in order to make him quiet. What strange Physical Pro­jections such young and early Do­ctors might in time bring about, I cannot well comprehend; but we that have been of a slower growth, and who have learned long since (not from you, who do cant it impertinently in the beginning of your first Chapter of the Conclave) that Life is short, and Art is long: We know the Art of Physick to be a much longer business, than to be any ways comprehended in one single sheet: As we know, that every thing is not Gospel, which a Moun­tebank comprehends in his Printed Paper of Directions. You cannot but know better things too, but [Page 145]your Spleen works into your Head, and suggests many ridiculous Me­lancholick Whimsies, which ought to be imputed to your Distemper, and is the true cause that your Pen runs so fast before your Wit. But give your reason, why you thus condemn very unmercifully ninety five of a hundred Physicians to be only Learned Mountebanks.

They are those false Metho­dists, who boast, that with Opium and Jesuits Powder, they can Cure all Dis­eases. Neither are they advanced to a much higher form, that imagine ordina­ry Dispensatories are sufficiently stockt with Medicines adequate to the Cure of all Diseases, whereas they contain sew others, than such as may serve for vehicles for greater Medicines, or are only virtuated to remove slight supersicial Distempers. Whence I may justly conclude, &c. as be­fore, p. 84, 85.

Ex ore tuo te judico. Once more I must return to consult the [Page 146] Preface (before-mentioned) to your Tract of the Scurvy, the Disease of London, as you call it, though I doubt you can give no great reason to Philosophers, why the Scurvy should be more the Disease of Lon­don, than other Places, especially the Maritime Towns. Only you cal­culated that Tract for the Meridian of London, to tempt Londoners to take good notice of the Authors Name, and Titles, and to give them a hint what notable help they might expect from this Man of Might, who is able to write a Book about it, and can teach o­thers how to Cure this reigning London-Disease. But first, who are they, and those false Methodists, who boast such ridiculous and im­probable things? I openly challenge you to name one Man of the Con­clave, or any other related to it by the way of Domestick Degrees, who has been so vain and silly, as to boast, that with Opium and Je­suits [Page 147]Powder, he can cure all Disea­ses. This I can tell you, from an Eminent Druggist, who is best able to judge, what vent there is of Druggs, that he has not known so sorry a Market, for the Jesuits Powder, this many a Year as this last Year of all. He ne­ver sold near so little, since it came first into play. And he will now sell the very best Jesuits Powder for twenty shillings the Pound, or under, who five or six Years ago sold it for eight Pounds the Pound. So that instead of Curing all Diseases, you see it grows to be a meer Drugg. And for Opi­um, he could not observe any greater vent of late than ordinary. Some of that indeed must be al­ways used, for making Venice-Treacle and Mithridate. Now read me what this Scurvy Author said to the business of Dispensatories, that we may compare Notes a little be­tween him, and this Antagonistical Paragraph.

The Pharmacopoea com­piled by the whole body of this Apolline­an Society (meaning the Conclave) doth justly merit the Character of a most Elaborate Work, from those that shall compare the several com­positions in it with their Original, where the amendments of omitting of superfluous, incongruous, or asy­metrous ingredients, and substituting of necessary and proportionate Corre­ctives, are to every eye very obvious, and their care, that those Medicines be neatly and artificiality prepared by the Apothecaries of London, hath proved so successful, that Travellers are obliged to Attest, that Pharmacy is in no foreign part so much impro­ved, as it is here. And a little af­ter, still I must say, that Medicines are no where so neatly, so honestly, and so skilfully prepared as here at London, and in that particular you may easily believe me a judge, &c. Preface to the London Disease.

You have here given a high Character of our Pharmacopoea, as of a most Elaborate Work, and Tra­vellers, you say, are obliged to attest it; so that we will easily take your judgment in this case, and not expect from our Dispensatory Me­dicines adequate to the Cure of all Diseases, no more than from Opium and Jesuits Powder. We do not ex­pect to make men Immortal, no more than to free them from the common accidents of humane Life, from the unavoidable Malice and Detraction of ill men. Waspish Bees will sting many times without a cause, though they become Drones by their little spight; Dogs will snarl and bark, as well as delightful­ly apply their Chops to a Bitches Tail. We may as well expect the Wind to blow always from the same corner, or the Tide never to flow, as that inconsiderate Scriblers should not write palpable Inconsistencies, and gross Contradictions. Momus, you [Page 150]e'en shoot at Rovers, and therefore it is no wonder you so often miss your mark. But Dispensatories are not sufficiently stock'd with Medicines adequate to the Cure of all Diseases. It is plain that your head runs strangely upon the Cure of all Dis­eases, notwithstanding that you lay all the blame upon Ʋtopian Me­thodists, who deal so extravagantly in Opium, and Jesuits Powder. We do take it pro consesso, that the Di­spensatory-Medicines can cure some Diseases, but you say they are only virtuated to remove slight superficial Distempers. Now I do take the Vinum Benedictum, Oxymel Elleboratum, Theriaca Andro­machi, Mithridate, Merturius dultis, Pilulae è duobus, Spiri­tus Salis Armoniaci, Lavendu­lae compositus, Nitri, &c. to be virtuated with a great deal stronger qualities, than only for re­moving slight superficial Distempers. Some of them might do very well [Page 151]in your own Distemper, which is no slight and superficial one, but very tough and untoward, very deep and remote, in the most in­ward recesses of your Skull; and which occasions your writings to be so slight and superficial. Let me advise you before you write again, to try the vertue of some of them, especially the two first. For other­wise we may have such an abun­dance of filthy, nasty stuff, thrown forth, altogether unbecoming a man of your Education, that the sight of it will be apt to nauseate the very stomach of any tolerable, or Indifferent Reader, and may make him cast in spight of his teeth.

Were it put to debate which of these two sorts of Sharlatans, viz. the Anatomical Theater-Mounter, or the Orvietan Bank-Mounter, is the greater Impostor, it would beyond all peradventure be determined by men of Brains, in favour of the latter, &c. p. 89.

Were it put to debate, which of your Leggs, the right or the left, ought to go first, beyond all perad­venture they would kick up one a­nothers heels during the contest or debate. For you so often declare for the wrong side, and when you fight, take the wrong end of the staff, that any man of Brains must needs wonder how you can ever be in the right. And how ignorantly you talk of Anatomical Theatre-Mounters! You such a mighty man in Ana­tomy, and not know the Structure of an Anatomical Theatre! Their Theatres are not mounted, or raised like the Recreation. Theatres above the Pit, or the Mountebank-Thea­tres above the People, but the Doctors do stand or sit as level with the Floor, as a Gentleman does in his Parlour. Indeed for the convenience of Spectators there are some little ascents to Seats, that young Batchelors, and young Do­ctors (much above seventeen) may [Page 153]the better learn and see. And are not you a fine Viper thus to tear the Bowels of your Mother-Anatomy, from the sucking of whose Milk you ought to have got greater Skill in Diseases, than from sucking Chy­mical Quintessences. I rather fear, that, Viper-like, after you had done your best to kill that good Mother, you e'en suck'd some Sow, which has made you thus to hate Anatomy ever since. For if this were not so, you could never have thus hastily determined, (like a man of no Brains, or at least who has no guts in his brains) in favour of the igno­rant Charlatan, or Mountebank, ra­ther than the Learned and never so compleat Anatomist.

The use of pretended Ana­tomical Physicians is great and neces­sary in a populous Countrey, where neither Famine, Pestilence, or War have had any sooting for many years. In this case men would devour one another, the place not being extensive [Page 154]enough to feed all, were it not that Phy­sicians by their male practice prevent­ed the Plethory of Inhabitants. p. 97.

Are the Pestilence, War and Famine become such pretty. diversions to you, ever since you wereCasus M. Ch. p. 143. Doctor-General (as you proud­ly, and in likelyhood falsly, phrase it) to the Army in Flan­ders? They have the Pestilence at Constantinople, almost as often as your heart can wish, yet the Turks find no such convenience in it as you imagine. But I see you have some reason for being at con­tinual War with your self, and for fighting one of your Tracts against the other, as you have done; since it is a Maxim with you (you learnt it no doubt in the Camp) Bellum pace potius; or that War, and a Kil­ling Physician, are so highly neces­sary to hinder men from devouring one another. And the same Prin­ciple may be one reason, why you [Page 155]look so exceeding meagre and lean (as your acquaintance tell me) as if you were starv'd and famish'd, and would devour all that you meet, it may be in order to pre­vent a Plethora or redundance of corrupt and cacochymical humours. But the use of pretended Anatomical Physicians is great and necessary, lest men should devour one another. Take it in the right, proper, and even literal sense, and the Paradox may hold pretty good Water. Your self, Momus, is the boldest, the veryest Pretender to Anatomy, that we may happen to hear of in many an Age. You cry aloud, e­ven in your Preface, that all Pas­sengers who cannot stay above a minute or two in a Booksellers Shop, may take special notice of your gross Pretensions to Anato­my, I my self have divulged more new Anatomical Observations, &c. And you dare to say it in the most Anatomical Age that ever was [Page 156]known. There is no doubt but such bold desperate Pretenders to Anatomy may be their male­practice do much to prevent á Ple­thora of Inhabitants.

I would ask you to what length do you intend to spin out this Treatise? I am grown very weary of these your Reflections; I have skipped over abundance of places that you had mark'd, and yet we make but a slow advance. We are not yet come to the Chief Subject of this Tract.

In troth then I could find in my heart to let alone the Chief Subject, until some other time. It is very unusual with other Wri­ters thus to lead us a dance so fo­reign to the Chief Subject for so ma­ny Pages of a little Pedling Tract, and to keep the Chief Subject, as Children do the best Plum or Cherry, to he last. It begins p. 101. ends p. 113. And all the lesser tri­fling Subjects are commanded to [Page 157]stop, and make a full point in a­bout a Sheet more of this El­der Duodecimo. One thing I have to say to your Chief Subject (though it being matter of Fact, and not having duely examined it, I shall say but little to it) that meeting one of the four Physicians concern­ed, soon after your crude Pamphlet was first spawned abroad, and knowing your Chief Quarrel was against the Jesuits Powder, I ask'd him whether the Bark were given in that case, and he protested to me, that it was not given at all, at least that he knew of; that he was indeed very much for the giving it, but the other Physicians being of another mind, he had acqui­esced, and did not rudely fling out of the Consult-Room, as Momus up­on every Pett was wont to do in a Case of his own describing.

Why, at this rate the Chief Subject, that was kept as a Dainty to the latter end, e'en comes to just nothing.

I cannot help that; valeat quantulum valere potest. When a Man fleys a Catterwauler, what can he have, bating Anatomical hints, more than the Skin? the Chief Subject of many a Pamphlet besides this proves to be a sorry pittance, and as light as a Feather, or Cobwebb, when it comes to be weighed in the scales of Sense or Reason. Men oftentimes write they know not what, and they know not why. And, Momus, do you ex­pect to receive better Quarter than you give? you that find such faults with others when there is no need, and who kick and spurn at all other men, who come in your way, let them treat never so carefully, can you expect in reason that they should take strict care not to treat upon your Toes? Momus, pass on at a round rate, and skip over most of the dismal passages before you, that we may have a few short touches at your Younger Duodecimo, the second Part of the Conclave.

The 12^th Chapter proves that the Jesuits Powder never yet cured any remitting Fever. p. 118. And the next Chapter tells you what it is, and what it is not. But after all, I could wish these Fathers had kept their Indian Bark to them­selves, and sure I am, hundreds would be on this side the Grave, whose Bones are now turned into their first Ele­ment. p. 129.

Those that are skill'd a lit­tle in Logick, do find it a hard Chapter to prove a Negative. And so your 12^th Chapter in dint of Ar­gument will prove you a very sorry Sophister, who so idly undertake to prove that, which it is impossible to make out. The famous Freshman, who coming from the University (his head being glowing hot with Syllo­gisms) undertook to prove to his Fa­ther and Mohter, that the two Eggs they had for Supper were three, and who was sain to rise a hungry Wretch when his plain and illogical Father [Page 160]and Mother had eaten each their one Egg, bidding him to eat the third: this half-witted Logician would never have been so simple, as you, who most ridiculously and yet most confidently, in the very Title of your Chapter, do presme to prove that the Jesuits Powder, ne­ver yet cured any remitting Fever. The raw Wag, before-mentioned, knew better things than so. His Tutor, I warrant, had soon taught him among general Rules:

And, Negans est deterior Affirman­ti, that is, the Negative is a worse end of the staff, in Logical Com­bats, than the Affirmative. The reason is plain, because a Fool can make more Objections in a day, than a wise man can answer in a year. Therefore you are a fit man with all my heart, to write Archae­ologia Philosophica Nova, or, New [Page 161]Princiles of Philosophy! Go, learn your Rudiments again, young Doctor, before you presume to teach Professors such False, and New Prin­ciples of Philosophy. But to return, you could wish the Fathers had kept the Indian Bark to themselves. And p. 2. you call it the Devil's-Bark. Oh how your head was tickled with that New Notion! But before we are much older, you must own, that if it was a Devil's Bark, it was a very kind Devil to you, however unkind it has been to others. Was it so long since your self was taken ill of a Remitting Fevor, (a febris lenta it could not well choose but be, in such a depraved, sowre, and melancholick Habit of Body) which Fevor afterwards turned into a Ter­tian-Ague, that made you to trem­ble many a time? you cannot have forgot, that you then sent for two of our Associated Physicians, who proposed to you the Specifick assi­stance of this Devil's-Bark. At first [Page 162]indeed you were very averse to its assistance, thinking it to be a Black and unkind Devil, but at last you were over-perswaded, and heark­ned to some who were wiser than some, you admitted the Devil to take pos­session of your body, and it pro­ved a more gentle, harmless, and whiter Devil, than you deserved; for which great kindness you ought not to be so ungrateful as you are, but give even the Devil his due. And now if the Fathers had kept the Bark to themselves, what a sweet loss might the Faculty have had! For all that I know, both Parts of the Conclave had never been hatch'd, and so you might have lost the break­ing many a ridiculous Jest, and we the laughing at you now in very good earnest.

I am a declared Enemy to the Jesuits Powder, and would rather in my own judgment, have been but half-cured by any thing else, than to have received so per­fect [Page 163]a Cure by a thing I naturally hate. Sure I am, if the Fathers had kept that Devilish Bark to themselves, hundreds would be on this side the Grave, whose Bones are now turned into their first Element. p. 129.

How come you to be so cock-sure, concerning hundreds of Patients, and hundreds of Physici­ans? You may have learn'd a Fi­gure in Rhetorick, Certum pro in­certo, of putting down a Certain extravagant Number, when you are the most Ʋ ncertain in the mat­ter that 'tis possible. We are very sure, that many a Patient had been on th'other side the Grave, if it had not been for the Bark, under God; and you are sure that God knows who had been on this side the Grave, if the Bark had remain­ed in some Terra incognita. But a­las! Their Bones are turned into their first Element. Do Bones then use to turn so soon into Element? If you had but viewed the Churches [Page 164]and minded them here and there with a little Curiosity, as you travelled to and fro, sure you would have heard of Charnel-Houses, Ossuaria, where dead mens Bones are kept for many Ages. Flesh indeed is frail, but Bones are tough and firm, and that which is in the Bone (you might have heard) will not easily out in the Flesh. No, they do not so soon turn into Element.

When I say the Bark never yet cured any one man of a Remit­ting Fevor, I also say, excepting pos­sibly three or four among a Million, whose robust natures neither Disease nor Remedy could destroy. p. 119.

You think your self now a cunning Sophister, in distinguish­ing so soon as you do, that the Bark never yet cured any Remitting Fevor quà talis, that is, qu tenus continua, but quatenus intermittens. Ibid. Be­cause it does not cure quà talis, it never cures at all. And because it does not cure as you would have it [Page 165]do, quatenus continua, it must be fain to cure, as that which the Fe­vor is not, that is, quatenus inter­mittens. So that in your Logick a Remitting Fevor has two faces, a blind side (quatenus continua) ne­ver to be cured, and a pretty gay look, (quatenus intermittens) to be cured by halfs, or between Hawk and Buzzard. But, Momus, I can tell you one remarkable Story of One that was cured of a certain Fe­vor, quatenus intermittens; and in which you were very highly con­cerned. An Apothecary, living near Lumbard street, I think, in S^t Swi­thin's Lane (who had the honour to be esteemed your Apothecary in Ordinary, but without much Fee, as you Physician in Ordinary to his late Majesty, but without any Fee at all.) This Apothecary having lingred long under an Intermittent Fevor, and being a Sufferer under your hands, and under those Spe­cifick Remedies you boast you have [Page 166]equal to Riverius his Febrifuge, Jesuits Bark, or any other, in Intermit­tents, (as Part II. p. 31.) and yet, unfortunate man that he was, he still grew worse and worse, not­withstanding the Energy of your rare and wonderful Febrifuges, e­qual to that of Riverius, or the Je­suits Bark, or any other, all the World over. But at last two Good Women, who had no mind, it seems, to lose their Apothecary, applyed themselves to a worthy Physician of the College, whom you often spurn and spit at, and call the Doctor of Contraries, who had never seen the face of the Sufferer before, and who then knew nothing of his unhappy Destiny in suffering so much under your rigid will and pleasure. The Doctor aforesaid is prevailed to visit your Sufferer, finds him in a very ill and lamentable condition, advi­ses him to take of the Jesuits Bark Scrupulos duos quartâ quâque horâ, for two days; which he had no [Page 167]sooner advised, but going down stairs he met Momus himself, who declared with open mouth, that he was utterly against giving the Suffe­rer the Jesuits Powder, to save the man's life. But he was grown wiser, than to suffer any longer, he took it according to order, and became incontinently as sound as a Roch. Now this was the true cause that mov'd your Spleen to so high a de­gree against this worthy Doctor, and that which occasioned you to call him by ridiculous Names, and among others, the Doctor of Con­traries, p. 67. as if Opium, and Je­suits Powder were such opposite Contraries; whereas it is known to every body, that they are both of them, exhibited in due time, and with due caution, most powerful Allayers of febrile commotions. And this made you talk of the Con­federacy of the Female Legate, p. 54. But the Confederacy was in truth like the Confederacy of Associated [Page 168]Physicians, for the good and safety of men, and not for their hurt. Henceforth therefore we will not call you the Doctor of Contraries, as you do sillily and improperly call a Good Physician, but we will very appositely and properly call you, from your gross inconsistencies and manifold repugnancies between your own writings, the Doctor of Contradictions.

Would it not move a stone, that he should have the Devil and all of thanks, and a Sostrum of two Pistoles for his two Visits, when the Patient ought in duty to have de­pended on my Skill? But still I except only three or four among a Million, whose robust natures neither Disease nor Remedy could destroy. p. 119.

What pity 'tis, their na­tures should be so robust! and how punctual you are in three or four a­mong a Million! as if a Million of Patients were as common in your Observation, as a Flock of Pidge­ons [Page 169]in the Countrey. It is all alike to you, and sounds to the Tune of No Carrion will kill a Crow. Or, Dav veniam Corvis, vexat censura Columbas.

Now open The second Part of the Conclave, that we may see whether either of the two Barrels be better Herring; or whether upon two or three years musing on your former Follies, you are grown e'er a whit wiser than before.

Beofre I have done with this, I could edifie the Reader more than he's aware, had I not de­termined to forbear utting more sense into my Friends of Paris, than Na­ture, or their School-Learning hath planted into them. p. 128.

If it be so determined, to the prejudice of your Mock-friends, we will e'en be contented, and shed no tears, I'll promise you, Come, read some few passages in the Second Part.

Why then I will begin [Page 170]with Thomas Willis, who for couching Physical Romances, and Ro­mantick Notions, smoothly, elegantly, and to Physicians of Par. only re­sembling Truth, doth exceed Mon­sieur Scudery in his Historical Ficti­ons, could it but be believed, the style and the Latin were as much his own as the Matter. p. 17.

Never did man deserve the name of Momus better than your self. For the greater and more excellent any Medicine is in its kind, the more violently you are set against it; and so the great­er, more conspicuous, and of Illu­strious Fame or Memory any Phy­sician is, the more venemous and bitter, and the more implacably malicious you are against him. Do you dare to speak of Thomas Willis, as of Tom-Fool, or Tom of Bed­lam? That great and incompara­ble man of Immortal Memory, has left a Name behind him, which will never be forgotten. He died in [Page 171]the height of Honour, and will be commemorated with Glory by fu­ture Physicians in the learned World, when your Memory like your Carcass will stink, and when your Bones are turned into their first Element, as you inspidly express it. To this same Thomas Willis, you (like an unmannerly proud Quaker, who has mighty reason indeed to boast of Education) will not vouch­safe even the Title of Doctor; which he hath infinitely more de­served, as well as his others, than you that of Batchelor, or even Stu­dent in Physick. You unwittingly couple him with a man most admi­rable in his Way, the famous Mon­sieur Scudery, whose Works, though Romances, if you had studied more than you have done, or even if you had perused them twice in their most Elegant, and Polite Translati­on, you might have mended your Style, and in part have mended your Manners. And do this Great [Page 172]man's Notions to Physicians of Par. only resemble Truth? Yes, they are held in wonderful esteem by Physicians of Leyden, and Physici­ans of Padua. If you have any little Correspondence that you hold in those Places, desire your Friend to ask any, or all the Professors O­pinion concerning Doctor Willis his Works, and you will find them All on his side, Admirers of the Man. His Pharmaceutice Rationalis will always shew the World, how smoothly, elegantly, and solidly, he could couch Physical Notions, and explicate, beyond all that ever went before him, the Operation of Me­dicines in Humane Bodies. But af­ter those few smooth words you give unto Thomas Willis, you pre­sently suspect and say, could it but be believed, the Style and the Latin were as much his own as the Matter. The Matter indeed, and the Sense of a Book is the main thing that deserves to be minded, but every [Page 173]Reader is not judicious enough to dive to the bottom of the Matter, and therefore politeness of Style, apposite Words, perspicuous, easie, proper, and unaffected Expressions, are also of singular use. If You had been better acquainted with Mon­sieur Scudery, you would have had words enough at command, and not be forced to coin base, and nonsensical words, such as Grove, Catochization, &c. and think to bring your self off with crying, it is Philosophical so to do, as in the Preface to your Quarto. Your Sense as well as Style would have had more Uniformilty, than to be one while calling the Divines Athe­ists, Cheats and Hypocrites, and anon wiping your mouth, demurely to tell us of that most Honourable Fun­ction, and to hint as if you were concerned about the saving of Souls from Perdition. Doctor Will is did in many things rectè sentire, and in all things id quod sensit, politè eloqui [Page 174]potuit. But to do as you do, for a man to put his Thoughts into Print, who has no skill to place them in a­ny tolerable order, nor to illustrate them with any good Fancy, nor to delight a judicious Reader in any manner of respect, is the part of a man who cares not how abominably he abuses our Patience, and mis­spends his own time, and he's a shame to Letters or Learning. Mandare quenquam literis cogitationes suas, qui eas nec disponere, nec illustrare possit, nec delectatione aliquâ allicere Lecto­rem, hominis est intemperanter abu­tentis & otio, & literis, as Tully has it Tusc. qu. lib. 1. But how shall we cure your Unbelief, as to the property, or menum and tuum of his Style and Latin? To satisfie all the Scruples of Momus will be a had Chapter, and it may be as hard as your 12^th Chapter, Part 1. wherein you made bold to prove a Negative. But this I shall say, that he was known to be an Excellent [Page 175]Latin Scholar, and an acute Philoso­pher, and was therefore chosen to by Sydley Professor of Philosophy, in Oxford. He was the most general­ly applied to, by Scholars, and U­niversity-men of all sorts, that per­haps was ever known before. And his Custom was, when he was cal­led to Patients out of Town, so that he had some time to spare, he carried a Tinder-Box with him, would trike fire himself, at Three or Four a Clock in the Morning, and would be as busie at Couching Physical Notions, for the Benefit of the Faculty, as ever Momus could be at rakeing together ridiculous and detracting Stories. Whoever would read the just Character of this Great and Eminent Physician, let him but run over two or three Leaves, the Post-script Preface to the second Part of his Pharmaceutice Rationalis, which Post-script was written when men do not use to be flattered, after his Death.

Had the said Willis from Observation abstracted his Novels, a happier Success would have attend­ed his Practice, than which nothing ever proved more pernicious and fatal to most of those Patients, that subjected themselves to his, and the followers of him, Their debauch'd Advice, which the Bills of Mortality of his time, and since, did amply testifie. p. 18.

I shall leave his nume­rous Patients, who many of them do still lament his loss, to judge the Happy Success of his Practice. But you do very am­ply testifie a most inveterate ran­cour and malice, as well as insupportable Folly, who thus to gratifie a Deadly Hatred, and most unreasonable Pique, can­not forbear thus Sacrilegiously disturbing and profaning the Memory of so Pious, so Great, and so Admirable a Physici­an.

When I was a Student in Exeter College, Willis was so in­considerable, that he was forced to block at his Pen, and so by forgeing of Novelties, thereby removing the Bushel from over his Candle, ailured a number of poor Countrey Patients, though at that time very raw in all manner of Experience, nor advanced in the least in practical Observations; so that at last Justice for his having so long impunitely injured Mankind, made him his own Executioner, dy­ing under the same misapplications, so many hundreds had miscarried by. p. 27, 28.

You were a special Student indeed, who several Years before seventeen could thus pass your rash and hasty censure on the Practice of Learned Physicians. Could your so early study of Philosophy, make you a proper Judge either of his Practice, or his Works in Phy­sick, which you do call (like a real, but malapert Blockhead) to block [Page 178]at his Pen? Momus, your Expres­sions are so contemptible, mean and senseless, and your Vanity so extravagant, that I have hardly pa­tience to entertain more Discourse at a time with such an empty Puff.

Sure You could not think so hardly of me, if you had well considered, or twice perused the ac­count of my Education, Casus M. Ch. p. 140, 141. or if you had but stayed to the end of this my Willisi­an Chapter, which my head has run so much upon, that I have bestowed no less than eight Leaves upon it; whereas I did not, or then would not, write six entire Leaves upon the Chief Subject of my first Part. But in short, Should I charge my self with the trouble of Copying out the Theory of intermittent, and con­tinual Fevors, abstracted from Ex­perience, and experimental Observa­tions, the sole Original and Funda­mental of true Knowledge, you would at the same moment be furnished with [Page 179]a Guide easily to conduct you to Re­medies equal to Riverius his Febri­fuge, Jesuits Bark, or any other in Intermittents, and to Medicines in continual, putrid, or malignant, be­yond any yet discovered, that shall manifestly abate the Distemper, and extinguish malignity; but it is fo­reign to my intention ever to gratifie that ingrateful and malicious Tribe of Par. &c. p. 31.

I will give much the same Advertisement, you did in your Ca­sus Med. Ch. p. 146. That there is one Momus, to whom the Courtesie of England gives the Title of Doctor, he lives somewhere about Westmin­ster, or Uxbridge, learn'd his Trade of John Pontaeus, and doth, more than any other Mountebank before him, bounce and crack of the worth of his Medicines up and down the City and Countrey, though whe­ther he keeps the Stage I cannot in­form. I have read many a Quack-Bill in my time, but do not remem­ber [Page 180]that any of them yet have pre­tended to more, than to have Re­medies beyond any yet discovered, in continual, putrid, or malig­nant Febors, and equal to any the best in the World in Intermit­tents. Other Quacks have had some small share of Modesty, and have been contented with pretend­ing to Remedies beyond any yet disco­vered, in the Scurvy, Dropsie, Pox, Griping of the Guts, the Stone, Consumptions, &c. but you are the first man to whom the Courtesie of England (ah shame on it!) gives the Title of Doctor, who would thus wretchedly monopolize the Cure of all acute Diseases. You did not learn that of your Master Pontaeus. He had indeed a Salve for Burns and Sores, he had an An­tidote that would do no hurt, and he had a Plaister for Corns on your Feet or Toes. But he had the grace to leave Fevers to the management of Physicians; and was abundantly [Page 181]more civil and ingenuous in his way; he contented himself to be Mountebank Paramount, but never offered to copy out the Theory of Fevors, and say that at the same mo­ment he furnished the World with a Treasure greater than the In­dies.

Willis his Purge signifies nothing in a stubborn, or inveterate Tertian; it must be a Cathartick of another nature, and greater energy, among which I could discover one to the Physicians of P. that at once or twice purges off those viscous putrid Humours in a great part, the other it precipitates to the Bladder, and the remainder it fixes, which three Pro­perties ought to concur in any Medi­cine that deserves to be named a Fe­brifuge, or specifick Antipyretick; but that would be casting Pearls to Sw. p. 38.

Your Purge then is a very discerning and intelligent Purge, and makes a very good hunter, [Page 182]that will search to the bottom of e­very cranny of the body, in order to purge, fix, or precipitate by U­rine, the naughty febrile Humour. Which three properties, you say, are necessary to the being a Specifick, and yet we find little or nothing of them in the Jesuits Powder, the main modern Specifick; and there­fore a true Specifick, because it makes no Evacuation. But you will not discover, or cast your Pearls before Swine, that is, you dare not bring your Works of Darkness to the light of the Sun, or your coun­terfeit, and base adulterations to the Test of a skilful Artist. Your Pearls are meer Pebbles, and you shall never perswade us that your cackling Geese can be melodious Swans.

After all, I must tell you, Fevors are curable by Methods diffe­rent from these, and Remedies, which they never yet have found out, nor e­ver will. For if any of a Genius [Page 183]inquisitive should endeavour to conduct them into a true path, would for his pains, be rewarded with ill language, reproach, and all manner of ingratitude; and therefore no more shall be siad at present. p. 53, 54.

Sat verbum sapienti. There is no necessity of your telling us, that the Moon is made of green Cheese. Consult the wise Women, and inquisitive Astrologers, and they will all tell you the very same, you so often cloy us with. They have a great many Infallible Medi­cines, as well as you Specificks of a new Invention. But if ever you should chance in a kind mood to impart to the World, or tell your notable Methods and Remedies that are such curing contrivances in Fe­vors, I would earnestly request one thing of you, and that is, not to let us know the Methods and Re­medies you used in the Cure of Fe­vors, when you took your Resi­dence at Ipswich; for they could [Page 184]not be these you now speak of, be­cause there is a strong report in Town, that you could not, or did not, save the life, (hardly) of one person in a Fever, whom you un­dertook at Ipswich; your Methods and Remedies that you then used, proving so fatally unfortunate. I do not averr this of them, as you do worse things, upon less grounds, of all Physicians, neither do I call Heaven to witness, but I must say, that the Report is no blind Hear­say, and that I have reason to think it came from the Place it self, and was brought to Town, as I am told, by those who were the most capa­ble Judges of such matters. There­fore don't endeavour to conduct us into true paths with those Killing Methods and Remedies that you u­sed, when there was a time to kill, but be sure you give us a touch of your Healing Remedies, if you have any in banco, that belong to the time of Healing. But I am afraid you [Page 185]have no other Genius that guides you, and is to conduct us into true paths, but an Evil Genius, an Ignis Fatuus, a Will-with-a-wisp, whose conduct indeed will never be taken in good part by Learned Collegiate Physicians, but deserves to be re­warded with Reproach, ill Language, and all manner of Indignation: and therefore no more shall be said at present.

In conclusion, may I never be guilty of so much Knavery, and Ignornace, as to become a Conclave-Physician. p. 51. This toucheth not my Copy-hold, never intending to herd with any Society of Physicians, unless there should happen a wonderful Reformation, though I cannot deny, but I have formerly been a Fellow of a College of Physicians, &c. p. 72, 73.

You would teach us to call down right Knave without Craft or Decency. I must therefore tell you, that you need not fear, but [Page 186]Honest Men so well forewarned as they are, will never be guilty of so much folly, as to admit Knaves in­to their Society, nor Learned Men become so stupid, as to admit igno­rant, but horribly fantastical Dolt-heads, into their Conclave. But, Momus, however you say here, may I never be guilty, and you ne­ver intend to herd with any Society of Learned and Honest Physicians, yet I am at this time credibly in­formed, that you are turning seve­ral Millstones which lye in your way, and using Interest, to gain admittance into the Parisian Con­clave, the College of Physicians in London. But you cannot deny but that you have formerly been a Fellow of a College of Physicians; Look you there! You cannot deny for­sooth, no, you cannot forbear, proclaiming it aloud, even in the Title-leaf (as you call it) of some of your Tracts, that you were once (and how you came to lose that [Page 187] Title, the College not dying, as o­ther Titles sometimes do, I know not) an unworthy and ungrateful Fellow of the College of Physicians at the Hague. But for that, as I said before, you are to thank your Good Mothers Bohemian Interest, not your native or natural Mother-Wit.

Notwithstanding, I do utterly despise these Pen and Ink Doctors, who are ignorant how to bruise, powder, sift, infuse, or ex­tract a Medicine, and to weigh it into Doses. Wherefore the Pestil and Mortar Doctors for that reason attain ten Patients to the others one, p. 56. And in the next Page, I conclude, That generally throughout all Paris, the Apothecaries having fifty or a hundred Patients to the Physicians one, it's an infallible Con­clusion, that the Company of Apothe­caries get fifty or a hundred times more than the Band of Physicians. p. 57.

Can you, who have spoyl­ed [Page 188]so many Pens, and spilt so much Ink, in scribling such a deal of trash and wast Paper, can you be still so weak and silly, and over­clouded with Malice, as to know the Pen and Ink Doctors no better? Is it possible, that you can so wretchedly insinuate, and beyond any glimpse of probability misre­present such Perfect Masters of the Pen and Ink, as if they were Men, who can neither write nor read, nor tell one, two, and three, as if they had never seen a Pestil and Mortar in all their lives, and knew not the difference between a pair of Spectacles and a pair of Scales? This Paragraph consists of three Doses, whereof the first we have weighed already, and find it so light and heedless, that it will not weigh so much as an Atome, much less any part of a Grain, whether of Sense, or even appearance of Reason. The second is your pre­ference of the Pestle and Mortar [Page 189]Doctors ten to one before the o­thers. Indeed if you mean by Pati­ents every one that comes for a pen­ny-worth of Mithridate, or a half-pe'th of Ʋnguentum, we shall rea­dily grant them the greater num­ber by far. And besides, these mock-Doctors, let me tell you, have more dextrous cunning, and notable Cajoling Arts with 'em, in one of their little fingers, than you have (if we may believe your own Pam­phelts, the bolts you so often shoot at random) in your whole body, But that we may the more exactly. weigh this Dose, let us e'en take in with it the third Dose, and put them together in the same scale. And that, you say, is an Infallible Conclusion, that generally throughout all Paris the Apothecaries have fifty or a hundred Patients to the Phy­sicians one; and the Company of A­pothecaries get fifty or a hundred times more than the Band of Physici­ans. How easily do they get Pati­ents, [Page 190]by the help of your heedless Pen, from ten to one, in the turn of the hand, or of one leaf, multiplyed into a hundred to one! But notwith­standing this Complement to the Man-Doctors, they might e'en shut up their Shops, and the Pestle and Mortar might grow ru­sty, if they were condemn'd to wait until Momus sends them Customers. You measure other mens Practice by your own diminutive Bushel; and you talk ike an Apothecary, things that you don't understand. But for all you thus despise the Physicians gettings, you may have heard of fifty or a hundred Gui­nies, more than once presented to a Conclave Physicians. when an Apo­thecary is well contented to get half a Crown for a Purge or a Glyster, of one of his ordinary Patients. The Apothecaries tell us, that they run many hazards in their gettings, and, if they be Ho­nest, [Page 191]are at a considerable expence too; they are of late Years exceed­ingly multiplyed, and the young­er fry ready to devour one ano­ther. Besides, People have not now-a-days the patience to go through a course of Physick for a Year or two together in Chroi­cal Distempers, as they did for­merly. The frequent use of Jesuits Powder by the Doctors, and their curing thereby so soon as they do, is of no such mighty advantage to their gettings, that they have any great reason to boast. But to Con­clude, though not Infallibly, how­ever your rash and incongruous Conclusion be with you Infallible, like your pretended Medicines, I can tell you, that one of the most Eminent Practicers now in Town, did lately assert publickly in my hearing, that according to the best Observation he could make of Phy­sicians gettings, he thought the Fa­culty of Physick (notwithstanding [Page 192]the present boundless Interlopings of Empiricks, Apothecaries, Moun­tebanks, Bill-men, wise Women, and all-knowing Astrologers) does at this time get more Money, than ever it did in any Age before us.

That's very strange to me, who have maintained, that five sixths of the Physicians go with their hands in their Pockets all day, the greatest part of business passing only through few mens hands, p. 58. But afterwards I say, Practica est multiplex; it's no wonder if half the Physicians cannot get so much, as will buy water to wash their hands. Thus much of Pantagruel and Ga­ragantua. Simon and Judas, or A­puleius and's Ass. p. 71.

When you talk of five sixths of the Physicians so very punctually, sure you forgot, that you do abandon the acquaintance of Physick-Doctors for their male-pra­ctice, and other horrid saults there drawn in black, and that there is [Page 193]no sort of men you look upon with greater contempt. As Part I. p. 90. But whatever you spleen makes you say, a great part of the Physi­cians do go in their Coaches good part of the day, and do seldom put their hands in their pockets, unless to drop a good Fee; and however you say the greatest part of business passes only through few men's hands, yet it is an odd sign of business be­ing so scarce in this Great and spreading City, that every Physici­an, who is of late admitted into the College, is fain to pay near twice as much for his Admission as ever was required before. One would think therefore, that Practica est multiplex, or there is Practice e­nough for many; else why do they pay so much, is it only to purchase one of your Airey Titles? But in so­ber sadness, do five sixths of them go with their hands in their Pockets all day? Will they not take them out to feel a Pulse? And you say half the Physi­cians [Page 194]cannot get so much, as will buy water to wash their hands, (Oh wonderful!) in a place where water is so scarce, that perhaps no City in the World, not Rome it self, with her famous Aquaeducts was ever more plentifully supplied with Water. Half then, and five sixths are the same identical Number in your Arithme­tick. Thus much of Fool and Knave, Push-pin and Bawbles, Whim­wham and Nonsense.

Before we part, I must tell you, I am no such Friend to the Aposthecaries. You may believe, it's not one Bill in twenty is exactly made up according to the Doctor's Order; neither is it fitting it should, for oft his Prescriptions are so idle and incongruous, did not the Expe­rience of the Apothecary correct, al­ter, and substitute what he pleases, there would be mad work in the sick man's Gutts. Therefore grant the Doctor prescribes over-night a Su­dorifick Cordial Julep; the other [Page 195]prepares it, with the addition of a few grains of Resin of Gialap, or Scammony, without the least ha­zard of discovery, &c. p. 62, 63.

In troth your friendship is such an odd and inartificial Medley of Bitter, Sweetish, and Sowre, that a man had better be without it. Your Complements are like Judas his Kiss. If the Apothecaries do not make up exact­ly one Bill in twenty, our Patients are finely brought to bed. This is much to the Credit of the Apo­thecarie's Shop you went to once a day, kept by a Relation of your Landlord, where you were taught the Trade of an Apothecary, as in your Casus, p. 141. I am glad, it was not in England, and I hope it is not our Apothecaries trade, to play such wicked Pranks. But the Experi­ence of the Apothecary is of singular use to correct, alter, and substitute what he pleases. Many of our Pra­ctising Apothecaries are so busie in [Page 196]visiting their small Patients, or else are grown so lazy and high, that oftentimes not one Bill in twenty is made up by the Master Apotheca­ry, but that piece of drudgery is left to the shatter-brain Boy or Ap­prentice. And has the Boy such wonderful Experience, that he may alter, and substitute what he pleases? Sure the Doctor's Prescriptions are not so idle and incongruous. Mo­mus, you make as mad work with the Apothecaries, as you have done with the Physicians, but we shall both pardon the random flights of a hot-headed Pair-brain. You ought to be sent to the Doctor of Bed­lam, to take some Doses of Helle­bore. Though your idle and incon­gruous scribling will never hurt one jot, either the Apothecaries Trade, or the Physicians Practice. But grant the Doctor prescribes a Cordial Julep, the other prepares it with the addition of a few grains of Resin of Gialap, or Scammony without the [Page 197]least hazard of Discovery. I will for once supponere non supponenda, grant your ridiculous Whimsies, and, I hope, groundless Imaginations, the Resin of Jalap or Scammony will certainly make such mad-work in the sick man's Guts, that there will not only be the greatest hazard of discovery imaginable, but the plain­est evidence in the World, as plain and sensible as the Rose in your face, against the Apothecary who dared to make such mad work in­stead of a Cordial.

Though from these Noti­ons I could desume Matter enough to expatiate into a large Volume (by de­riving thence the various kinds of continual and intermittent Fevors) I judge it at present unnecessary, lea­ving the further search to those igno­rant lazy Drones that are called Conciave-Physicians. p. 102.

We are too well satisfied of your abilities that way; we grant that you have a Talent that [Page 198]can expatiate, if you have a mind to't, into a large Volume (larger than any Nick Culpepper ever writ) as by woful Experience we too of­ten find, that the weakest man in the Company can expatiate in dis­course, and talk more than all the rest together. But by no means do not exercise your Talent to the ut­most extent;

as a late Ninny has it. Leave the further search of those matters to wiser heads, and they will take it ve­ry kindly of you. But pray what are those pretious Notions, that you could wire-draw to such a frightful length? They are Fevors, and o­ther Distempers explained (that's well) and cured (that's better) by New Principles. p. 93. This New Principle, as old as it is, taking in your explanation, is New News to us, and no less than the Circulation of the Blood, which as it was the [Page 199]most easy thing in the World to be found out, so might the manner and ways of it, which notwithstanding hi­therto have lain asleep, though this could scarce have happened, unless a­mong such, as are greater Block heads than common Seamen. p. 98. Phy­sicians then have been to blame for explaining the Circulation by Anasto­moses, or Inosculation of the Capilla­ry Arteries into the Veins, and then afterwards for taking their refuge to the Pores, and explaining the Circu­lation per taecos meatus, and qua­litates occultas, their old asylus ignorantiae. p. 99. I would there­fore ask you, because you are such a knowing man, and given to Dis­coveries, which way, or by what ductus the pond of Water that stagnates in the Abdomen of Hy­dropical Persons does come to be evacuated in such quantities by Stoole, upon the taking a strong Hydragogue. Tell me that frank­ly and plainly, without refuge to [Page 200] asylum ignorantiae, and you will winn my Love and Admiration too. Eris mihi Magnus Apollo, both in Latin and English, both in hard words, which you love dearly, and in plain and pro­per terms, which I love as well. How things come to pass, is often­times as puzling to be in Divinity. How is found to be in Divinity. We see Light and Colours, abut notwithstanding all you have said about them in your early days, or in your Natural Philosophy, yet I must needs confess we are still too much in the Dark, and are not al­together satisfied in the matter, though indeed one would think a man might safely enough believe his own eyes. Again, in tempore vi­vimus, & quid tempus sit ignora­mus: in loco sumus, & quid Locus sit ignoramus. We know the Wind blows from every Quarter, and the Maggot bites from every corn­er of your head, but why the [Page 201]Eastern Wind to all Countries is the most unwholsome, why are South Wind is so moist, and the North so cold, is beyond ev'ry man's skill to determine; as it is why you should declare your self so bitter and implacable an Enemy to all Societies of Physicians, and in them not only to those with whom you have contended face to face, as it has been your practice to do in the Consult-room, but even to those who never offended you, and whom you never saw, nor perhaps ever heard of. Is it Manners, or at all agreeable to the Rules of Civility you might have learnt in France, when you were making the petit tour, went to l' Hostel Dieu, or assisted Monsieur Jannot at the greater Ope­rations in Surgery at the Charitè-Hospital; it is Manners, I say, or agreeable to your French Educati­on, thus to call Physicians in gene­ral, ignorant and lazy Drones, great Blockheads and Ideots in the same [Page 202]Chapter? Will you needs prefer the Invention of Common Seamen before that of the best Physicians, in the business of the Circulation? Is the Great Inventor of the Circu­lation of Immortal Memory, who made Britain Divine, thus to be dwindled from a Gyant into a Dwarf? Is the Learned Doctor Harvey to be degraded below the invention of Common Seamen?

Not to detain you longer with these impertinencies. p. 100. I know your Curiosity will demand, what Remedies they are, that are virtuated with a power to effect so great a Work, to wit, the Infalli­ble Cure of Fevers. I answer, that the Materia Medica, where­out they are to be prepared; you see one sort every day, if you look but a little beyond your Nose (that's plain enough) you need not grub for it in the depth; another you tread upon, that's pity; any a third is as com­mon in your mouth (whether you [Page 203]be Rich or Poor, Sick or Well) as the Bread you eat: what they are further, I shall never discover pub­lickly (not for a World) nor com­mit their Preparation to any Apothe­cary; you must come to me in private, and bring Faith along with you, as well as Money, for it's not fit such Medicines should be abused, or slighted as Dirt, by eve­ry Conclave Physician. p. 108, 109.

No, I shall never be such a Curious Coxcomb, as to be inquisi­tive after you idle Impertinencies. In­deed your ought not to be so Pro­digal of your little stock of Know­ledge. They ought to be kept very charily and warm, as a Snake in your bosome, or a little weakly Babe that comes at the beginning of the seventh Month. You need not talk of what we ev'ry day see, or tread upon, or eat. If you had happen'd to read Martinus Rulan­dus his Pharmacopoea Nova, de Ster­coribus & Ʋrinis, you would have [Page 204]found, that there is exceeding great virtue and power in a Stercus; and that a man may have reason to expect greater effects from a wholsome Stercus, and without Chy­mical Preparation, in its plain puris naturalibus, than from any of your Remedies, prepared according to Art, of which you crack and bounce, without fear or wit. The Publick, I dare engage, will ne­ver have reason to lament the want of your Discoveries. We know that you have been very profuse and lavish, like a common Prosti­tute, of All you have, and in your little trifling Tracts have told us all that you know, and abun­dantly more than you can justify; and because you find that over­liberal vent of Trifles instead of Re­medies does turn to a small account, do you now think to Cajole the World with telling them, what rare things you have still in store? Bonum quò melius, eò magis communicabile. [Page 205]One Modest and Ingenious Man, who is more ready to learn of others, than to teach crude and jejune Notions, shall Discover better Ob­servations, and more Excellent Re­medies in a single sheet, than a thousand such as you with all your noise and clamour, with your ar­rogant Pretences, and vain Osten­tation, can for your life (do the best you can) in a Volume larger than the Septuagints.

The truth hereof appears, by the Remedies I have used on such occasions, which in half an hours time have reduced the Patients to their right reason (out of a Deliri­um) by no other manner of operating, than by causing a free Circulation in the Brain. p. 109.

And so I have known a cer­tain Stercus (I can assure you) to do wonders in the like case; and if it does not operate so well in the first half hour, yet it has not failed in a few half hours to reduce the Pa­tients [Page 206]to their right reason. You see, I am not shy of Discovering so precious a treasure, for the good of the World; and I would not on­ly recommend it to your Particular Use, but you deserve to be forced to take liberally of it, and to make it your daily food, as well as Me­dicine, until your notorious Deli­rium goes off, and you be at last reduced to your Right Reason, and to better Manners than you have yet learnt.

I have no manner of Pa­tience thus to hear not only my Incomparable Remedies so vilely abused, but the gravity of my Person so shamefully ridicul'd, my Anatomico-Philosophical Discove­ries thus contemned, and my Books I have written to be so horribly misrepresented with that which galls me more than any thing else, I mean, with plain and undeniable Truths. I hated all Physicians suf­ficiently before, but now I am [Page 207]thus provoked, I hate all the World, Man, Woman and Child, and if I were a Conjurer (as God knows I am not) and so had Skill in the Black-Art, I would raise such a Tempest, and universal Hurricane, as should confound them all toge­ther, and bury me and my Books, with the Answer to them, in one Knock to a Chaos.

Fy, Momus, fy! Such an extravagant passion does not be­come a man of your Education. Remember what you once taught us in your Natural Theology: When a man is incensed; they say he is as full of hatred or venom as a Serpent, or when he is inflamed with anger, they resemble him to the Devil, in saying he is as angry as the Devil, Nat. Theol. p. 111. Again, the greatest advantage which the Devil ever takes of men, is in their Passions. How many are there that hang and murther themselves in Wrath, Love, (this, they say, does seldom happen now-a-days) [Page 208] Sadness, &c. Ibid. Once more, a Passionate man is by wise men (by Solomon himself often) accounted a Fool, for it was one of the Tenents of the Stoicks, That no wise man was Passionate.

Would you have a man burst with Rage and Vexation, and not to express mind a little? Are not Women and Children allowed sometimes to cry and roar, when they are cross'd and anger'd? And do they not say they find ease by shedding of Tears? Would you have me burn to a Cinder, with the Fire and Flame within me, and suffer no Water, or Tears, to quench the devouring Flame?

Yes, one Tear from your haughty evil Eyes, one deep sigh from your hard, and unrelenting Heart, one good Reccavi from your foul, and most abusive Pen, would give us some hopes of your Repen­tance, for one of the greatest sins that can be committed, an habitual [Page 209]course of Calumny and Detracti­on. I remember your tell us that A Passion seldom seizes on a man, but it leaveth a Cinder, so that it easily blazes again, Nat. Theol. ibid. p. 111. And withal, that there is no Passion but what is full of Pain, ibid. p. 112. Therefore have a care of the Cin­der, and consider that you fill your self full of pain.

Do you then think that I can cry, whine, or relent? I am too old to alter my Natural Tem­per. Those simple Fancies I writ in my younger days, when I was raw and unexperienced in the World, when I hardly knew what I did, and when I only said what o­ther men said before me. But now I am a man of Might and Under­standing. There is no Physician upon the Earth, but I scorn to truckle to him. And I am not now to learn of Hippocrates, or Galen. Then Physicians do probably wish all the World sick at once, 11. [Page 210]Part p. 58. And to conclude all in one word, There is no trust to be put in Religio Medici, many of whom, I verily dare affirm, believe, there is neither God, Heaven, Devil nor Hell, p. 69.

O tempora, ô mores! Oh dreadful and abominable! Is it so verily? Is it so probable that the Physicians do wish all the World sick at once? Do they wish Friends and Foes, Rich and Poor, Nurses and Apothecaries, all to be down toge­ther? Would they spare none to call them to their Patients, to open the door to them, or to give them their Fee? Would they be content­ed for one short term of a Hurry of business to go with their hands in their pockets all the rest of the year? According to your way of reckon­ing they are most wretchedly sim­ple, and know their own Interest but little. But to your Conclusion which is so black and dismal, that I hardly know how to meddle with [Page 211]it. You speak for your self, I hope, in the first place. And in good truth you write at such a Mad and Frightful rate, that a man may justly conclude, you not having the fear of God before your Eyes, but unwitting­ly moved and seduced by the instiga­tion of the Devil, did dare to affirm such horrible things of your Bre­thren; Brethren, I say, in Title or Profession, but by no means Bre­thren with you in iniquity. You do not do well to let that same Religio Medici run so mightily in your head. There is more Sense, and Religion too in a Paragraph of that Book, than in all your fantastical, raw, and yet borrowed conceits of Na­tural Theology, your own Natural Mother (to whom you dedicated that precious piece of Divinity) being Judge. Religio Medici is a serious thing, consisting of very Uncommon Notions, and such as every paltry Pretender is not a competent Judge of. The Physici­ans [Page 212]have the same unhappy Fate, as most other Wise men have, when they talk frankly of Religious Mat­ters, to be easily and exceedingly mi­staken. The things above us are seen at a great distance even by the Divines, and the Physicians, or Natural Philosophers, do bring them good part of the way to the Coelum Empyreum. If therefore the sagacious Naturalist does sometimes without reserve discourse of things far above their, and every man's apprehension, must he presently be censured by ignorant or malici­ous Coxcombs, for Religio Medici, or for little or Ro Religion; al­though he never so strictly observes the main duties of True Religion, I mean, Love, and Charity, Ju­stice, and Honesty, rather than put his Trust in things of far less mo­ment, but more Popular in the Eyes of the World, I mean, Out­ward Performances. You verily dare affirm, as extravagant things, as [Page 213]much plain Nonsense, as ridiculous and improbable Stories, as many palpable Untruths, and even flat Contradictions, as perhaps any man that ever pretended to be an Author. But verily I never had patience to read to much of other insignificant Scriblers, being quickly cloyed with one leaf or two of the Pamphlet, where I was drawn in by the usual decoy, the tempt­ing promises of a Title-leaf. But pour Game, Momus, and your big Titles, did promise more than was every where to be met with. And the Subject was extraordinary; it made some noise too before it came out, and we had mighty expectation of the Birth of no less than a Mountain, and after all, we find not a ridiculous Mouse, but a Worm, or a Maggot brought forth. To conclude, I verily dare affirm, that reckoning the whole number of Legal Physicians of the College, you shall hardly find in any other [Page 214]Profession (the Divines only ex­cepted) or in any other Society, Trade, or Title, (unless you pick and choose) so many Good men, and Good Christians (number for number) as among the Physicians, to whom you are so grievously and unreasonably Ʋncharitable.

You have the best opini­on of Physicians that ever I knew, and am apt to think men will judge you t have as much too good an opinion of them, as you would perswade, that I have too little. Are you your self so well caress'd, and courted among them, that in return you complement them at this high rate? Or, have you not some latent self-interest you aim at? For certainly you could never dare thus to enter the Lists with Me for nothing.

I know the Physicians Faults, as well as their Virtues, and would neither have the one magni­fied in your Microscope, nor the [Page 215]other lessened by the weakness of my Praises. They are Men (though they have been sometimes in a manner deified, even whilst a­live) as well as other people; and therefore it is no such marvel if the Art of Physick may have some that are no better than they should be, as well as the Law, and the Gospel. There is no doubt but there is mis­management of Affairs among them, or else you would never have da­red to affirm such gross things of them all in general. Your Horns would else have been pull'd in long ago, and you would have been contented to confine your roving head within the circumference of your Shell. Time was, when they knew how to manage their own Power to better purpose, and to curb the intolerable insolences of Prating Quacks, and Impudent Em­piricks, after another-guess rate than they now do. And time will come, I hope, before you are a [Page 216]little older, that they will know their own strength again, and not tamely suffer any foul-mouth'd Wretch thus to bespatter and vi­lisie Admirable men, the Glory of the Age they live in, with such a licentious freedom, an unlimited and full cry of Billingsgate dialect, as if you neither feared God, nor Heaven, Devil, nor Hell. As for Caresses and Endearments, they seldom happen to any great degree, among the same Members of any Profession, and especially here in England; and it is commonly said, Men of the same Trade do seldom so far agree. I have no reason to Com­plain, for want of their reciprocal Civility. But for any self-interest in what I have now done towards the serving them according to my small Capacity, I have not the least Aim of that kind And to convince you the more that I have no such Aim, I shall take some care to keep my self Incognito, leaving to you [Page 217]the supposed pleasure of quàm pul­chrum (or rather for you quàm foedum) est monstrari, & dicier Hic est.

Ay, do your best to hide or conceal your self, I shall find you out in time. And if I do, by Heavens and all that's Good, by Hobgoblings and Bugbears, and all that's Evil, by my Mother-Wit, and by both my Degrees, I will ransack every passage of your Life, I will rummage every corner you have haunted, I will dress you in such an Antick and Ridiculous Habit, and make you so hideous and de­formed a Creature, that you had better be half-hang'd, or even un­dergo my Herculaean, or Gigantean Cure of the Pox, than ever have presumed thus to contend with me, and hazard a tryal of Skill with the sharpest Case-maker in Town.

Your Threats are like Chaff before the Wind. By thus strug­ing [Page 218]you do but intangle your self the more. And pray do not per­swade your self, that no body could have answered you according to your Folly before now, or that no body had the Courage to un­dertake it. You are infinitely be­low the consideration, or Animad­version of the more Curious Pens in our Society. I have foreborn with abundance of Patience all this while, giving way to others (who could do it much better) to undertake this Physick-quarrel with you. But fearing lest their con­tinued silence might make you still wiser in your own conceit, I have for your good and Amendment made this gentle Rod for you, a Rod more gentle than your gentle Pox, and a Rod, you see, that will break no Bones, but only smart; and I have served you somewhat as the Learned Doctor Gill did the saw­cy Tom Triplett, hoisted you up, and scourged you a little, but more [Page 219] gently than you have deserved, for making such a noise, and thus rudely and Clownishly entering into the Conclave of Physicians.

I verily dare affirm, that you have done the worst you can, and believe, you cannot write ano­ther Dialogue upon this Subject, be­cause you have said so much in this.

Sure you, that have been so tiresome a Scriber, who have so often distracted the Studies of Young men, from useful Authors, to hear Cerberus bark, or spit fire at the Faculty of Physick, do not at last think it such a mighty business to write a little Book. Do you not ob­serve that Grocers Shops, and Pastry-Cooks are very plentifully suppli­ed with Printed Trash, which they do put to a much better use, than the Authors, or Pen and Ink-spoilers could do before. Have you never been saluted in the streets by poor pedling Hawkers with, Master, won't [Page 220]you please to be so kind to buy a Book? You will do a poor body a deed of Charity. And after all, in so liceu­rious an Age of Printing, do you now doub, that I can't write a Second Dialogue between a conceit­ed silly Momus, and a man of some Sense, when the Subject is inexhau­stible? Be contented, and take this Chastisement quietly, and without muttering, or else you shall find worse Rods in piss prepared for you. Multum post terga relictum est, ante oculos plus est.

You are unreasonably pre­judiced against this Author, or else you could never be so violent a­gainst him.

'Tis very right. I am ex­ceeding prejudiced against this pre­tended Author, who, notwithstand­ing that he had such strange and wonderful advantages of a Liberal Education, that the like was hardly ever known, if we may take his word for it; who notwithstanding [Page 221]than he had a Physical Cap of Main­tenance clapt upon his head, by way of Complement Extraordina­ry, and a fair and fine Diploma put into his hand, at seventeen, yet that he should turn the Badge of Ho­nour into a Fool's-Cap, and that the Hand which was once solemnly laid upon Hippocrates his Works, should dip his Pens in the Gall of an Ass, instead of downright Ink, in order to expose to the scorn of the igno­rant Mobile, and mischievously to lessen the Faculty he was so much beholding to: How can I choose but be prejudiced against so unwor­thy and errant a Mad-cap? Mo­mus, you have more reason too than you are aware to be prejudiced a­gainst this man. He has been no great Friend to you once upon a time.

No! What has he done? Tell me. I hope, he has not been guilty of speaking well of others, especially his Superiors, more than [Page 222] once in his life. I hope he has not kept Peace in his Family, defended the Innocent, or been shie in spy­ing of Faults.

No. None of those mat­ters. But he has abused and ridi­cul'd even Momus himself the most grosly, and unpardonably that e­ver was known.

Wherein?

Why, at the end of that same Preface to his Archaeologia be­fore-mentioned, he adjoins six Ver­ses to Momus, so Poetastick or fan­tastick, so wretchedly simple and Nonsensical, that you would won­der to hear them. they do hobble upon all six at such a frightful and shameful rate, and the third is so lame of most of his Feet, that I think it has got a Gangrene, for it has no manner of Sense in it, though I have tried all the ways imaginable to put any little life into it, rather than none at all.

Let's hear what they are. [Page 223]Sure my Friend could not so far forget himself.

Open both your Ears, or both your Eyes then; and keep your Mouth wide open, that if you should cast, you may be ready:

Thou cross-grain'd Mome! He might have Thou'd me a little more Civilly than so. I can easily pass by Squint, Bodel (or Hocus Pocus) gnorring Dog, dull and stu­pid, dunghill stone, and his calling me Beast; I could pass by this Cha­rybdis [Page 224] of a carping Momus, or that Scylla of a livid Zoilus, as a notable expression, and a sign of his Learn­ing, in the foresaid Preface; but to lessen me into a diminutive Mo­nosyllable, like Bob, Dick, and Tom, is a thing I do not allow, and cannot but take unkindly.

To be short, what think you of those six Verses? are they not beyond compare?

Indeed they are the worst that ever were made to me. And the worse because they come from the Pen of a Philosopher. I would not advise him to meddle with Rhime-doggrel any more. But this is to be said for him. It was in his younger. Years, when his head did rove upon Greater Matters, upon Philosophico-Ontologico-Dyna­milogico-Theologico-Macrocosmical and Microcosmical Principles.

Those were not doubt great and weighty matters, which wanted to be ushered in state with [Page 225]six such special Attendants. To my seeming, they are more insipid Poetry, than those on that wretch­ed Astrological Poetaster, Sof­fold's Best Pills; Read, Try, Iudge, and speak as you find.

The very same thing in Verse, that you so stifly maintain'd in Prose, concerning your Remedies, that you have made us Despair to know, because you never will Discover them.

My Remedies! I scorn them. I would have you to know, [Page 226]that I can make better Remedies, than his, when I make Water; and I can make better Verses in my Sleep, than he can waking in his most Poetical musement. If he had shewed Wit (as well as Malice) in his Tracts, I would have stood by him, like a Friend. The very reading of them has made me Dull and Sleepy. Philiater, Leon Pan­theram Remunerâsti, you have given him a Rowland for his Oliver.

Momus, we know that you can verba dare; you slip a Comple­ment that might have been spar'd. Your precious Friend may e'en curse his ill Fate, which gave him an In­curable Knock in his Cradle.