THE Dublin Scuffle: BEING A CHALLENGE SENT BY Iohn Dunton, Citizen of London, TO Patrick Campbel, Bookseller in Dublin. Together with the small Skirmishes of Bills and Advertisements.

To which is Added, The Billet Doux, sent him by a Citizens Wife in Dublin, Tempting him to Lewdness▪ WITH His Answers to Her.

ALSO Some Account of his Conversation in Ireland, Intermixt with particular Characters of the most Eminent Persons he Convers'd with in that Kingdom; but more especially in the City of Dublin.

In several Letters to the Spectators of this Scuffle; With a Poem on the whole Encounter.

I wear my Pen as others do their Sword.—Oldham.

London, (Printed for the Author) and are to be Sold by A. Baldwin, near the Oxford-Arms in Warwick-Lane, and by the Booksellers in Dublin. 1699.

To the Honourable Colonel BUTLER, A MEMBER of the House of Commons in Ireland.

Honoured and Worthy Sir,

THE Generous Incouragement, which you were pleas'd to give to all my Auctions of Books, and the Extraordinary and Unmerited Kindnesses I receiv'd at your Hands, when in Ireland, em­bolden me to trouble you with this Dedication.

I confess it may justly seem un­worthy of the Acceptance of a Per­son of so Great Honour and Endow­ments, as you are known to be: Nor can any thing less than your own Goodness, find an Excuse for this Presumption: But having had such large Experience of the Excellency of your Temper, and of the Great­ness of your Soul, I should be unjust [Page] to your Character, if I did not pub­lickly own, that you measure the Tokens of Gratitude by the Affecti­on of your Friend, and not by the Value of the thing presented.

Give me leave then, Worthy Sir, to inscribe your Name to the fol­lowing Sheets, as a Great Patron of Learning, and a Generous Friend to an injur'd Stranger, who came to promote the Interest of Learning in your Country.

The Kindness you were pleas'd to Vouchsafe [...]unto me, and the Con­cern you express'd for my Welfare, per­swade me that you will not dis­dain to be my Patron in defending my self in Print in England, seeing I could not have the opportunity of doing it in Ireland.

I must indeed own that your Cha­racter and Courage Entitles you to be the Champion of such as are enga­ged in a more Masculine Quarrel than the Scuffle betwixt Patrick Campbel, [Page] and my self. Yet you know Sir, that the Greatest Captains, after the Campaign is over, do sometimes divert themselves by seeing a Mock­fight on the Stage. This, Sir, has something more in it, as being a real piece of Injustice first committed, and then defended by my Adversa­ry, who has arm'd himself with Impudence and Malice, and manages his Attacks by Fraud and Forgery; as I have made sufficiently clear in the following Sheets.

I confess, Sir, the Entertainment you will meet with here, is not answerable to that Hospitable and Generous Treatment I was honoured with at your House; and that I am not capable of gratifying your Cu­riosity with such excellent pieces of my own drawing, as you were pleased to feast my Eyes with, when I beheld with wonder, the effects of your happy Pencil! Yet, Sir, I dare say, that I present you here with an [Page] ORIGINAL; which, tho' drawn by an unskilful Hand, has something very surprizing in it; such Features, such a mixture of Hypocrisie and double dealing cover'd over with a false Varnish of Religion, that I question much, Whether Patrick may not pass for a Iudas Redivivus? And were my Pen able to keep pace with your Pencil; or had I the Art of temper­ing my Colours, drawing the Fea­tures to the Life, and observing due Proportion, I doubt very much, Whether Africa could shew any such Monster, as I should here present to the publick View?

But, Worthy Sir, I must beg your Pardon for daring to offend the Eye of such a Curious Artist as your self, with such a deformed piece. It were indeed unpardonable, did I not know that by one Glance of the Eye upon your own Perfecti­ons and Eminent Vertues, you will immediately race out those foul [Page] Idea's which the fight of Patrick may impress upon your Imagination. Contraries expos'd to the View at one and the same time, do mightily illustrate one another; and therefore when you see his Picture, and reflect upon your own, you will find great Cause to bless him who hath made the di­stinction. Pardon me Sir, I don't think your Vertues need any such foyl to set them off; for they are such, as when compar'd with those which render the Enjoyers of them Amiable in the Eyes of Man­kind, will undoubtedly give you the Preference amongst Thousands; but I must break off, lest my Affection should offer Violence to your Modesty; and lest it should be said, I only commend my self in extolling my Patron: I must indeed own that the Honour of your Friendship is one of those things that I value my self most upon, and esteem my self happy in some mea­sure by Patricks Enmity, which gives [Page] me this Opportunity of letting the World know, that Collonel Butler is my Friend: Or, if that be a De­gradation to you, that you are an Encourager of Learning, and a Pro­tector of those that Endeavour to promote it.

I shall add no more, but beg your Pardon for prefixing your Name to such a Trifle. You know Sir, that how meanly soever it be perform'd, it was absolutely necessary for the de­fence of my Reputation, which Pa­trick Campbell has so unjustly endea­vour'd to destroy; and seeing it is usual with Authors to attone for their own Defects, by chusing an Honourable Patron, I hope Sir, you will indulge me the same Liberty. May you Live long, to be an Orna­ment to your Country, and the Ob­ject of His highest Esteem, who is,

Honoured Sir,
Your much Obliged, and Most Obedient Servant, IOHN DVNTON.



IT may be justly expected I should give some Account of the Reason of this Vnder­taking; which is in short, to Vindicate my Reputation from the Malice of some of my own Profession, who have unjustly endeavoured to be­spatter me. I need not say much as to my Con­versati [...]n at Home; those who have dealt with [Page 2] me, will allow the fairness of my Dealing in way of Trade. It's true, some Reflections have been thrown upon me about the 2d. Spira, and the multitude of things I have Printed; both which are here accounted for, and I think I may make bold to say, that my Adversaries are fairly di [...]rm'd.

As to my Scuffle with Patrick Campbel, (a Dublin Bookseller) I found my self obliged to publish all the Circumstances of it to the World, that I might not be wanting to my own Reputation on that Head. Here the Reader will find I have acted fairly and above board; and that I don't depend either upon my own Evidence or Iudg­ment in the Matt [...]r; therefore I have here made it plain, that I have the Testimony of Persons of the greatest Figure in Church and State in Ireland, for my Conduct there; which I hope will be sufficient to stop the Mouths of all Cavillers.

The Second Part of my Book is Intitled (what it really was) A Billet Doux sent me by a Citi­zens Wife in Dublin; with my Answers to her. And as LUST was her Master-Sin, so in my First and Second Letter I check her Impudence; and then prescribe Remedies for her Disease: And in my Third Letter I tell her the way how she and her Husband (whom she [...]alls Argus) may yet be hap­py in Wedlock.

Gentlemen, by this attempt of Dorind [...] (at a time when I was scuffling with Campbel) you may see I was condemn'd to fight with Beasts of both Sexes; though I am apt to think (as my London Correspondent observ'd) that 'twas a Trap of Patrick's laying; and that he had a mind to [Page 3] try what he cou'd do by Women, since he durst not face me himself, or Answer my Challenge in Print: and therefore I publish Dorinda's Billet with my Dublin Scuffle, as it seems to be part of it.

Had I been caught in the Snare (as my inge­nious Friend further observes) there's no reason to doubt but Patrick wou'd have blaz'd it on the House-top. 'Tis true, the Billet was really sent me, (and my Answer directed to St. Law­rence's Coffee-house on Cork-hill, where it lyes still for any thing I know to the contrary) but wou'd it save my Life, I cou'd not tell who sent it, nor cou'd I ever guess at the Author; but I know my Innocence▪ and therefore am not afraid or asham'd that the World should see Dorinda's Billet, and what an Enemy I was to her Assignati­on, which is writ as if she were acquainted with me, the better to allure or fright me to her wanton Arms.

As to the Third Part of my Book, which I call my Conversation in Ireland, 'twas necessary to add it to my Scuffle with Campbel, and the Irish Dorinda, that the World might see (by my Method of Living in that Country) what little reason I gave Patrick, to sucffle with me; or to the Irish Dorinda, to tempt me to her lewd Em­braces.

This Account of my Conversation was really sent in a Letter to a Lady of High Birth; and the Answer to it is a Letter of her own Writing; but who she is, I having promis'd to conceal her Name, [...]ven R [...]cks and Gibbets shou'd not squeez [...] it from me: Tho', wou'd she honour me so far, [Page 4] as to let me tell who she is, it would add greatly to the sale of my Book, and perhaps oc­casion several Impressions▪ But this is a Favour I can't expect. However, to make my Conver­sation as agreeable as I well cou'd, I've intermixt it with particular Characters of the most Emi­nent Persons I convers'd with in the Kingdom of Ireland; but more especially in the City of Dublin: And if in these Characters I've been too lavish in any one's Praise, or have describ'd some Persons what they shou'd be, rather than what they are, 'tis excusable sure; for who knows but these, by seeing how charming Vertue wou'd make 'em, may endeavour to practise it?

Gentlemen, If these ben't Re [...]sons sufficient for publishing my Conversation in Ireland, I might add one more; and that is,—I publish it to please my self; Why may not I have my Humour, as well as others? I promis'd my Summer Rambles for the Diversion of the Gentlemen in Ireland, who incourag'd my Auctions; and this Conver­sation is a part of 'em: And, Gentlemen, if that Honourable Lady to whom 'tis directed (or your selves) do but cast a favourable Eve upon it, I have my end: And, who knows what success I may have? For the World is at present much upon the search after Voyages and Travels; to which Rambles being something a-kin, they are I hope coming in fashion too; and I may be al­low'd to offer at something of that Nature, since I have cross'd the Sea half a dozen times; visited America, and been four Months together on the Ocean.

Sir William Cornwallis saith of Montaign's Es­says, That it was the likeliest Book to advance [Page 5] Wisdom, because the Authors own Experience is the chiefest Argument in it: And indeed, shou'd every Man write an History of his Life, compre­hending as well his Vices as Vertues, and have them with simplicity related; how useful wou'd this prove to the Publick! But this may rather be wished for, than expected, since Men have ever preferr'd their own private Reputation before the real good of themselves or others. But now, if contrary to the mode of such Travellers as lose their Thoughts in the open Air where they were conceiv'd, I have with more Diligence register'd mine: It was out of no Opinion they deserve a longer Life, but to prevent Idleness. The chief thing I seek in publishing this Dublin Scuffle and Conversation in Ireland (next to clearing my In­nocence with respect to Campbel, Dorinda, and other Enemies) is by my Pen to find Employ­ment for a Spirit that wou'd break the Vessel, had it nothing to work upon. To those that are angry at my frequent Digressions, I answer here (with the ingenious Montaign) that Constancy is not so absolutely necessary in Authors as in Hus­bands; and for my own part, when I have my Pen in my Hand, and Subject in my Head, I look upon my self as mounted my Horse to ride a Iourney; wherein, although I design to reach such a Town by Night, yet will I not deny my self the Satisfaction of going a Mile or two out of the way, to gratifie my Sences with some new and diverting Prospect. Now he that is of this rambling humour, perhaps will be pleas'd with my Conversation, (which is little else than a hasty digression from one thing to another.) However▪ in this I have (as I said before) the honour to imitate the Great Montaign, whose Umbrage is sufficient to protect me against any [Page 6] one age of Criticks; and 'tis well it is so, for, Gentlemen, I am very sensible that 'tis safer to make 50 Challenges at Sword and Buckler, long Sword and Quarter-staff, than to play one Author's Prize on the Bookseller's Stall; for the one draws but Blood, but by the other a Man is drawn and quarter'd. To appear in Print is worse than hanging; for the Torture of the Halter is but an Hour or so; but he that lies on the Rack in Print, hath his Flesh torn off by the Teeth of Envy and Calumny, though he meant no body no harm. Nay, some of my Brethren themselves are turn'd Demi-Cri­ticks, and call every thing Stuff, that has not their own Name to it. There's P. C. T. F. and two or three more ill-natur'd Fops, if an Angel should send a Copy to Phil—they would call it Stuff, except they had a share in it. But I shall meet with them elsewhere; and would have these ill-natur'd Criticks take notice, that I wear my Pen as others do their Sword, and for that same end too; and don't care one Rush whether thy approve or condemn what I write. It is not their Judgment that I value, and therefore think it below my Regard, any otherwise than to vindicate my self from their Calumnies.

Thus Gentlemen, have I given ye a distinct Account of the Three Parts of my Dublin Scuffle, with the true Reasons for my publishing of it. As to the Two Letters and Verses that lead the Van, they came to me with no other Direction than, For Iohn Dunton; at the Raven in Iewen-street; and I think I can do no less in point of Gratitude and Civility to their Authors, than to print 'em as an Introduction to my Scuffle, with this Assurance, That you have 'em in the very Dress they came to me in. The Letters and [Page 7] Verses will I presume speak for themselves; but for my own Performance I shall say nothing. I must own you have hitherto used me with much Civility, which makes me the less apprehensive of any danger now; but come what will, I'm re­solv'd to stand to your Courtesie, and shall al­ways acknowledge the former Obligations you have laid upon,

Your Humble Servant, Iohn Dunton.

A POEM ON THE Dublin Scuffle.

I Hope (Sir) you will not esteem it an unci­vil Address, if I put you in mind of the Scuffle you promis'd us; I can tell you that we are all in mighty pain for it; and truly, unless you speedily deliver us, shall be apt to conclude you have given up the cause. You can't imagine what advantage the Scotchman makes of the Interval; I met him accident­ally the other Day at your Friend Dick's, where his chief business was to traduce and revile you, and indeed, I believe he had went on with his shew, if I had not started the Scuffle in your Vin­dication; When I told him, we expected it here in a Month, I found it stung him to the very Soul; he put himself instantly into his Natural Po­sture of Rubbing and Scratching, and in my Con­science made as many wry Faces, as he us'd to [Page 9] do formerly at the Buckling on of his Pack; and verily, I was not wanting to give him now and then a lift.

But after all, you must send it away with the utmost expedition; all your Friends, Nay, the whole Town earnestly expect it from you, and truly in my Judgment you cannot come off of it now, without a manifest Injury both to your Interest and Reputation.

And here's poor Dorinda too; What can you imagine She thinks of the Matter? I'll warrant you he [...] Polse bears very high upon the Point? Who she is, we cannot learn. But most People that understand Dublin, believe her to be a [...] that our City Dames resent the thing so very ill, that if they should once find her out, I would not be in her Coat for his whole Pack; and for Niff Naff himself too, if after all they should find that he had any singer in the Contrivance, he had best be sure to keep a strong Padlock upon his Trouses.

Well, but I have sent you a few Irish Rhymes too, which you may either commit to the Flames, or some empty place in your Book, as you shall think 'em worthy. You know Irelands but a barren Country for such sort of Commodities; however, Sign-Post Painting may serve to put you in mind of your Friends, as well as the best; and if it does but that, 'twill be a sufficient Satisfaction to

Yours, Farewell, T. B.

TO Mr. John Dunton, UPON HIS Dublin Scuffle.

MY Friend, could I but let thee see
How much I love and value thee,
I'm sure thou'dst reckon this Offence
At worst, a kind Impertinence.
I know thy Learning and thy Parts,
Thy Knowledge in the Noblest Arts;
Thy CONVERSATION and thy Wit,
Speak thee for my Advice unfit;
But what of that, true Friendship still
Attones for ev'ry other ill.
Believe me then, in this hard Scuffle,
Poor John, Thou seem'st, confin'd to ruffle,
Not only with the Scotch Man's Pride,
But other Knaves and Fools beside.
[Page 11] He that is forc'd to draw his Pen,
Must fight with Beasts in shapes of Men.
They'll pointed Censures at him dart,
Which tho' they cannot reach his Heart,
Will reach his better part, his Fame,
And wound him deep in his good Name.
Thou'lt find too late, this Paper War
Is worse, even than Intestine Iar.
But be it so, or be it not,
You must go on, this scurvy Scot
Has broke the Peace, and the proud Loon
Insults, unless you take him down.
Besides, thou hast a safe defence,
I mean thy Truth and Innocence.
Thy Honesty will be thy Guard,
And thy Fair Dealing thy Reward.
'Tis true, the Wretch of Skinner Row
Is for thy Pen too base and low;
And so is false Dorinda too,
A subject far too mean for you:
And so is Dick, but what of that,
Here's Wild and I, and honest Pat,
Nay, all the Town, but two or three,
Speak well, and justly value thee:
So thou'rt engag'd for different ends,
To right thy self, and please thy Friends.
T. B.

The Second Letter TO Mr. John Dunton, UPON HIS Dublin Scuffle.

VVHY John, here's Nif [...] Na [...]
Would make a Man laugh,
To see how he sets up his Back.
I'll tell thee by th' by,
'Tis mounted as high
As when formerly guirded to th' Pack.
I protest he's half mad,
Is not that very sad?
And swears by his Namesake, St. Patrick,
When thy Scuffle comes o're
He'll meet it a Shore,
And in spight of 'em all play it a Trick.
You know he's a SCOT,
And then what is he not?
Why ev'ry thing now but a Pedler.
But He's got into th' Row,
How he came there we know,
Yet I hate the repute of a Medler.
Then prithee good Iohn,
With thy Scuffle go on,
'Tis you that must humble the Loon;
What the De'el would he have,
All Dublin his Slave,
And encroach all the business o' the Town.
No, no, Mr. SCOT,
Excuse us in that,
We know you too well for the future.
Is this your pretence
Of Conscience and Sence,
To use honest Iohn like a Jew Sir?
And DICK too I'll tell thee,
What e're had befell thee,
Thou had'st better have kept to thy Word;
And for Mrs. Dorinda,
Whom we cannot find a—
Iohn values her not of a T—
No! he's too well weigh'd
To be fool'd or betray'd
By a Knave, or a Jilt in disguise.
I'll tell thee but that,
'Twill be better for PAT,
And make thee hereafter more wise.
To Let his Room o're his Head,
I'd have first wanted Bread
Before I'd have pleasur'd the Loon.
The more (Dick) I think on't,
The more you still stink on't,
And grow nauseous all over the Town.
To conclude, honest Dutton,
Ne're value't a Button,
Thy Candor, Fair-dealing, and Sence,
Have plac'd you too high,
For such Insects to flye,
And will still be thy Guard and Defence.
Here's Wild's thy True Friend,
Whom even Interest can't bend
To forfeit thy Love or thy Trust.
He'll tell thee the Town
Does in general own
That all thy Proposals were Just.
Tho' the Pedler and Whore
And one or two more,
Attempt to surprize and trapan thee.
The rest are all thine,
Both the Lay and Divine.
With all the true Friendship that can be.
Yours, S. M.

I Presume you will not believe I am so much an Ape, to be fond of the deformed Brat I here send you; You see I have not set my Name to it; which perhaps may occasion Campbel, &c. to make Reflections. To be plain with him, I have no manner of appre­hension of him, or any of his Party; my only concern is, that when you come to peruse it, you will think it unworthy of the mean­est place in your Book; and then I'm con­fident, both in point of Wisdom and Inte­rest, I ought to keep my self conceal'd. In short, I am one of those that by your Fair and Genteel Dealing, you have so­lemnly engag'd to your Friendship; and one of those too, that earnestly expect your SCUFFLE. As for my Name, &c. If [Page 16] the Scotchman insists upon it, when you think fit, he shall know it: And withal, be fur­ther satisfy'd with what Sincerity I am,

THE Dublin-Scuffle, …

THE Dublin-Scuffle, &c.



IN the History of my Irish-Travels, I am come so far as to speak of the Auction I made in Dublin, which I fear will end in a sort of Scuffle, (something like your Counter-scuffle in London) But that you may have the better Idea of this Rambling Project, and of Patrick Campbel, the Chief Adversa­ry I have yet met with; I here send it in the Words 'twas Publisht.

An Account of the Three Auctions to be held in the City of Dublin: In a Letter to the Wise, Learned, and Studious Gentlemen in the Kingdom of Ireland, but more espe­cially to those in the City of Dublin.


THough the Summer be a Time for Rambling, and the Season of the Year invite all Men abroad, that love to see Fo­reign Countries, yet 'twas not this alone, but the good Acceptance the way of Sale by Au­ction [Page 2] has met with from all Lovers of Books, that encouraged me to bring to this Kingdom of Ireland, a General Collection of the most valuable Pieces in Divinity, History, Phi­losophy, Law, Physick, Mathematicks, Horsemanship, Merchandize, Limning, Military Discipline, Heraldry, Musick, Fortification, Fire-works, Husbandry, Gardening, Romances, Novels, Poems, Plays, Bibles and School-Books, that have been Printed in England since the Dread­ful Fire in London in 1666, to this pre­sent Time.

In this General Collection you'l find that many a good Book has lain asleep, as not being known, and when a Book is not Publish'd, it cannot be nourished by the favourable Acceptance of the World: I might Instance in Mr. Turner's History of the Remarkable Providences which have hap­pened in this Age, of which there is near a Thousand disposed of in London, and scarce Twenty of 'em Sold in Ireland, though by viewing the Contents of this Work (which are given Gratis at Dick's Coffee-House in Skinner-Row) 'twill evidently appear there is not a more useful Book.

Now Gentlemen, as Books are the best Fur­niture in a House, so I see no Reason why others with my self, should not think their Variety the most excusable Prodigality; and therefore as the good success Auctions have met with, with my Natural Love to [Page 3] Travelling (as appears by my Venture of this Nature to New-England, Holland, and other Parts, in the Year 1686.) put me upon this Undertaking, so I hope you will give it incouragement in some proportion to my great Expence in Purchasing and bringing over so large a Collection; and in­deed, Gentlemen, as this Sale is designed for your Profit, as well as my own, so it seems of right to Challenge your Protection, which if it receives, I shall not value what some little prejudic'd People can do to discou­rage it: I design by this no Reflection on my Brethren in this City, for to do 'em Ju­stice, they acted generously, and gave me all the Countenance I could expect (all save Patrick Campbell, who grins at my Un­dertaking.) Though had they not, Learning and Knowledge are such real things, they need no other props to support them, but what is cut out of themselves; and a better Medium to effect it, than by reading Books, I know not. And though there be a Complaint that the World seems op­pressed with Books, yet do we dayly want them; if it were not so, what is the Rea­son that many of great Estates can hardly make their Minds or Thoughts stretch to a Geometrical Measuring of their own Lands? but surely he that has Money in his Pockets, and will starve his Brains, (when so many new and valuable Pieces are brought to his Door) deserves to be posted; for what can [Page 4] a Mans Rusty Bags afford him, to the Profits and Treasures of Books? Plato was ac­counted a Wise Man, and we find it Re­corded of hima that he thought it a rich Purchase when he bought three Books of Philosophy belonging to Philolaus, a Pytha­gorean in Sicily, though at an incredible Rate; and that Atlas of Learning, that Or­thodox Scholar,b Archbish. Vsher, (whose Name makes Ireland Famous, as 'twas the Birth-place of so great a Man) He it was that sent to Samaria for sundry Copies of the Samaritan Pentateuch; and with a dear Purchase it was also that he brought the Syriack Bible with other Books from Syria. It's Recorded that Solomon's Library was the Feather in the Plume of his Glorious Enjoyments, a part whereof he thought was the choicest Present he could make to the Queen of Sheba, for the Recompence of her great pains in Travelling to Profit her self, and Honour him; and seeing the Variety of Books (says the Ingenious Bur­ton) he must needs be a Block that's affect­ed with none. King Iames the First, when he saw the Oxford Library, wished that if it ever happened that he should be a Prisoner, that there he might be kept, and that those C [...]ained Books might be his Fellows, and the Chains his Fetters: And who will not say that Good Books and [Page 5] Good Company, are the very Epitomy of Heaven? In a Word, there's nothing com­parable to the purchase of Knowledge, and whenever Men begin to taste it, they will say, I speak Truth with a Witness.

Gentlemen, Having said thus much of Auctions, Learning, and the Collection of Books I have brought into this Kingdom, I would have no Man displeased if he finds not all he expected in my First Cata­logue, for if he has Patience, his Expectati­on will be fully Answered: But the great Variety of Books I have brought over, have rendred it impossible to have 'em all Bound time enough for my first Sale. I have therefore divided 'em into Three Auctions▪ The first of which will begin Iuly 7th, 1698. Neither can I exceed that Time, my design being to take Scotland, France and Italy, &c. in my way home, and to be in London by next Christmass.

There will be a Distinct Catalogue for e­very Auction, and when Printed (of which Publick Notice shall be given) will be de­livered Gratis at Dick's Coffee-House, (the Place of Sale) and at the Coffee-Houses in Limerick, Corh, Kilkenny, Clonmel, Wex­ford, Gal [...]y, and other Places, so that those that live at a distance may send their Commissions to their Relations in Dublin, or to my Friend Mr. Richard Wilde, and they shall have their Orders faithfully Exe­cuted; for as this Countrey is obliged to [Page 6] his Vniversal Knowledge in Books, for the goodness of this Collection, so to his Care and Fidelity (my Health calling me to Wexford to drink the Waters) is commit­ted the Charge of the whole Undertaking, And I think I need add no more, for tho' it has been Customary to Usher in Under­takings of this Nature, with insignificant and tedious Commendations, which serv­ed only to tire the Readers Patience, and stagger his Belief, and may perhaps be ex­pected now upon a Collection which might justly Challenge the Precedence of what has ever been Exposed to Sale in Ireland; yet being resolved to proceed in quite con­trary Methods to what has been formerly u­sed; I'll manage the whole with that Can­dor and Sincerity, as shall leave no room for Exception: For as Gentlemen come here supposing to buy a Pennyworth, so I do assure 'em I think it unjust to advance the Rate upon 'em by any Vnderhand-Bid­ding: And for every Penny I get that way, I will restore a Pound; neither did I suffer any of my scarce and valuable Pieces to be cull'd out from the rest (tho' importun'd there­to by several Gentlemen, and Booksellers) that all might have equal Treatment, and the greater Reason to attend my Auctions. And I am very willing that the Ingenious and Learned should be their own Judges in this matter, not doubting but upon an Impartial view of my Three Catalogues [Page 7] (of which this is the first) they will find not only such Variety of New Books as were never before in Ireland (and scarce ones no where else to be purchased) but such Cu­riosities in Manuscripts and Pamphlets (of all sorts) as will be sufficient to invite them to exert a Generosity, as may further En­courage

Your Humble Servant, John Dunton.
See Mr. Stanleys Philosophy.
See Mr. Leigh [...]


IF you'l give me your Thoughts upon this Auction, the Conditions of Sale, and the Scuffle I'm like to be ingaged in, on the Account of this Undertaking, I shall own it as a Mark of your Friendship: Write as supposing me still on the Road; I am yet on my Summers Ramble, and to Mor­row (having met with agreeable Compa­ny) shall set out for the Boyn, Kilkenny, Galway, &c. In order to view the Cabins, Customs, and Manners of the Wild Irish—Direct your Answer to be left with my worthy Friend Dr. Wood, at his House in Kilkenny, for I design to make him a Visit when I leave Dublin. Pray Sir write by the first Post, for I intend your Answer shall come into my Summer-Ramble, for my Method, different from other Travel­lers, is to get Remarks upon all I see, but [Page 8] Six-pence Once, Twice, a and the next Word is to assure you, that I am

Your very Humble Servant, John Dunton.

Remarks on my First Letter.


I Have receiv'd the Kindness of yours, by which I perceive that neither di­stance of Place, multiplicity of Business, nor variety of Diversions, and some times Distractions, are able to divert the stream of solid Friendship, but that you have still a Minute to spare in remembrance of your old Acquaintance.

I am glad to find you have Encourage­ment to go on with your generous Vnder­taking of imparting to Ireland so many va­luable Pieces of Learning. I don't know why some of 'em may not be accounted Phoenixes, as being reviv'd since the Fire of London, or rather sprung up from its Ashes.

Time was when Ireland was famous for Learning, and hence it came to be said of [Page 9] a certain Great Man, whose Name does not now occur to me.

Ivit ad Hibernos Sophia mirabile claros.

But I am afraid the Case is much alter­ed since. Slavery and Popery have had so long and universal a Possession of that Countrey, that the Spirits of the Native (or Wild I­rish at least) are much degenerated, so that we may now apply to them as a pro­per Reverse, ‘Vervecam in Patria crassoque sub aere Nati.’

If your Design may be any way subser­vient to restore Learning among them, you will have Cause to value your self upon it while you Live.

But my Friend, I perceive by your Fears of a SCUFFLE, that you will find it more difficult to Conquer their Pre­judices, at least of some of them, than Ri­chard Strongbow found it to make a Con­quest of their Nation; but I hope you are so much a Philosopher as to prepare your self before-hand for cross Emergents, that you don't lose Courage on their approach.

Never was there that Great or Good De­sign yet in the World which did not meet with Opposition, and if yours happen to be singular in this Respect, it will be as remarkable a Passage, as many that are re­corded in the Irish Story.

[Page 10] You know I am no pretender to the Spi­rit of Prophecy, but methinks I foresee a Storm coming upon you. My Reason is this, Whatever the Honesty of your Design, and the fairness of your way of dealing may be, and which I persuade my self the Irish Climate will never be able to alter; yet you must expect that those of your own Cal­ling will look upon you as an Interloper, or perhaps a Fore-staller and Ingrosser: If you can Convey Learning to Ireland thro' their Channels, so as there may be some Gold-Dust left for themselves at the Bot­tom, you may perhaps 'scape pretty well; but if otherwise, I am much mistaken if you don't experimentally find the falshood of that old saying, That Ireland entertains no venemous Creature.

I cannot but applaud your Honesty in promising not to advance the Prices upon Gentlemen that come to buy, by Vnder-hand Bidding. To do otherwise, is not only to Act two different Parts with the Satyr in the Fable, but according to the Northern Proverb, To Play both the Thief and the Mer­chant, and I wish you had left more of that sort of Honesty amongst some of your Bre­thren at home. We have not so much of it our selves, as to send such a Cargo of it at once to our Neighbours; the worst I shall wish those Gentlemen, who practise the contrary Method, is, that they may never have any other Buyers, but their [Page 11] own Vnder-hand Bidders, for that is the likeliest way to reform them.

But though I am Confident you will be as good as your Promise in this Matter, yet all your Honesty will not be Armour of Proof against a Weapon you have put into the Hands of your Enemies, which is, that you Promise a Penny-worth to those that will buy at your Auction.

The Proposal is indeed as charitable as that of Selling below the Market-price to the starving Poor, but you know those who practise this Method, have as many Curses from the Ingrossers of Corn, as Blessings from the Starvlings whom they save from Death.

Learning, I do verily believe, runs low in Ireland, generally speaking; and no won­der it should, when they have not Books at moderate Rates, and therefore your bounti­ful Design to the Publick, will not be able to atone for the Injury which some Persons will be ready to apprehend from you in their Private Affairs. If you Sell a better Penny-worth than they, you must expect their Envy; and the Consequence of that, is all that's unjust and mischievous.

But let none of these Things discourage you, go on with your good Design of disper­sing those Books in Ireland, that are fitted for their Instruction and Diversion; Profit and Pleasure ought to go Hand in Hand.

[Page 12] I would not frighten you, by represent­ing only the black side of the Cloud. I hope you will meet with some fair weather; try if you can invite the Muses in your Summers-Ramble, to make a visit once more to the Irish Par [...]assus, and to disperse the Liberal Arts amongst the Kerns. What Pi­ty is it, that a People who are generally so fair of Body, should not have better Means to cultivate their Souls.

You are very well furnish'd with pro­per Materials for so good a Work, if they fall into charitable Hands.

You are accustomed to Rambling, to use your own Term, though some would have the Ambition to call it Travelling; and if as other Travellers do generally drop Mo­ney in those Countreys which they visit, you drop Learning too, it will be a dou­ble Advantage.

I must take leave to dissent from one of your Propositions, That Books are the best Furniture in a House, and I believe you will be of my Mind too, when you know what it is; and I will tell it you frankly, that I think a Good Wife is better; but both of 'em do well together. I could the more readily have pardon'd your Mistake, if you had not known the Truth of what I say, by both sides of Experience, but of this enough. It would seem by you that Solo­mon thought them equal, seeing he pre­sented the Queen of Sheba with part of his [Page 13] Library, for if we may believe [...]rester Iohn, she was one of his Concubines, that pass'd for a sort of Wife in those Days, and from their Bed it is he pretends to derive his own Original. This must needs Enhance the Value of Books (and the Stationers Trade) seeing they were the noblest Pre­sent that the wisest of Princes could think on, to make to the wisest of Queens.

Had that Prince happened to live when Printing was Invented, he had certainly been a great Incourager of the Booksellers-Trade—He who knew the sweets of Wis­dom and Understanding, and press'd others so earnestly to the pursuit of it, would have thought himself very Happy in such a proper and easie Method of acquiring and diffusing it.

Yet such is the unhappy Genius of too many in this Age, that they Care not how empty their Brains be, so they can but Stuff their Bags, or their Bellies—Covetousness and Sensuality are equally Enemies to Learning. The Miser laughs at those, who spend their Time and Strength in search of the Philo­sophers-Stone, the Grand Elixir, and Au­ram Potabile, whilst he has the Aurum Po­tabile under a sure Guard of Locks and Bars. The Sensualist doth in the same manner Ridicule those, who Abridge themselves of Sleep and other Conveniencies, in the pursuit of Knowledge. He thinks the best Ornament for the Head is a fine Hatt and a [Page 14] flanting Wigg; a good Complection owing to the Bottle, is preferrable in his Sense, to a Pale Face, the usual Reward of Study. He had rather be taught how to cut Capers with his Heels, than enabled to Judge be­twixt Truth and Error with his Head.

These are some of the principal Reasons, why Learning makes so little progress a­mongst many, who by Providence and Nature are furnish'd' with Opportunity and Ability to acquire it.

Your Instances of the value put upon Books, by Plato, Arch-Bishop Vsher, and King Iames I, are pertinently brought in, and may they be as perfectly copied. Knowledge is without doubt, the most va­luable of all sublunary Treasures. Solo­mon was certainly of that Opinion, when he said, that a poor and wise Child was better than an old and a foolish King. Wisdom had something more Charming in his Eyes than any thing the Crown and Scepter could afford; whence we may rationally infer, that Solomon would have preferr'd the Indu­stry of those that should have brought him a Cargo of good Books, to the Industry of his Richest Merchants, that brought him Gold and Silver from the Indies, which some Modern Authors understand by Ophir.

The Thoughts of this may be enough to support you against the Cavils of those, who may happen to oppose you. Seeing the Native result of your Voyage to Ireland, [Page 15] is to make good Books common there at a moderate Rate, for which others would exact upon their Customers.

I shall conclude this long Letter with this one Remark, That your Fancy soars too high, and your Mind is too nimble for your Body. To talk of compleating your Ramble in Ireland, to visit Scotland, France, and Italy, and to be in London by Christmass next, is somewhat too much for Pegasus himself; for you have known him some­times play the Jade. I find you are alrea­dy oblig'd to go to Wexford for your Health, whence I am afraid you will be induc'd to alter your Project. For if your Body won't keep pace with your Mind, you must send your Thoughts upon the Ramble, and spare the Car­kass: However I approve of your return to London by Christmass, for at that Time we have generally as good Cheer in England, as you will find any where else.

Give me leave to adde one Word, as to your Conditions of Sale. If the Conditions of your Chapmen be as Fair, you have Reason to expect all possible Encourage­ment; but I am afraid you will find Solo­mons Observation hold as true in Ireland as in other Kingdoms, where the Buyers do usually say of the Merchandize, It is naught, it is naught, but when they have once got it into their Possession, they will be sure to boast of their Penny-worth. I have no more to adde, but pray you to make haste [Page 16] Home, and in the mean Time fortifie your self against the Distemper of the Countrey, by its own natural Product, I mean a good Freeze Coat, lin'd with Vsquebaugh: but don't linger too long, least our minc'd Pyes be all eat before you get over, for I look upon them to be a more proper Cordial for a true English Stomach. But I shall exceed the bounds of a Letter, and therefore with­out any further Ceremony, subscribe my self,

Your Friend and Servant, &c.

The Second Letter.

My Worthy Friend,

I Have receiv'd Yours, with your Thoughts of my Dublin Auction, and of the Conditions of Sale, for which I re­turn you hearty Thanks. I have already found that your Conjectures of Envy's at­tending my Design, were too well ground­ed, and have reap'd some Benefit by your Advice. Therefore I have here sent you an Account of an unhappy Scuffle betwixt me and a Dublin-Bookseller. That you may the better be possess'd of the whole Matter, I have here sent you the Copies of the Letters and Proceedings that have yet pass'd on this Occasion, and hope you [Page 17] will oblige me with the Favour of your Thoughts upon this, as you did upon my former. This Scuffle was first occasion'd by his taking my Auction-Room over my Head, which oblig'd me to Publish the following Reasons for my Removal to another, directed to the Gentlemen of Dublin.

The Reasons for my Removal to Patt's Coffee-House.


I Have drawn up, some Reasons for my Removal to Patt's Coffee-House, which I had sent to the Press, where they were Composed and the Letters set, but the Printer being over-awed by Mr. Campbel, refused to Print them. But Gentlemen, if Money will purchase the Printing of them elsewhere, you shall have them in Print to morrow Morning, or otherwise in wri­ting at Patt's Coffee-House in High-street.

Iohn Dunton.

The above Lines wore Printed before my Catalogue for November the seventh, and owned as a Truth by my Printer, in Dublin (in the Presence of Mr. George Larkin and Mr. Richard Wilde) who then declared, that Mr. Campbel threatened to [Page 18] Arrest him, and his Partner, and to take away all his Work then in the House, if he went on with the Printing of my Rea­sons for removing to Patt's. Gentlemen, Patricks frighting Printers with Actions, (and by this way Locking up the Press) is I confess a pretty way of answering my Charge against him, and sufficiently shews his Guilt; but I am so far from being frighted with Bug [...]ears of that Nature, ha­ving a just Cause to defend, that at the same Hour he enters one Action, I'll enter two, and pursue it further then he is aware of; and though my Printer had not Soul brave enough to Work off at the Press what was Composed in his House (for my Let­ter annexed was directed to him) yet o­ther Printers in Dublin, being satisfied with the Truth of my Charge, assur'd me in the Presence of Mr. Larkin, that they would have Printed it with all their Hearts, had they done my former Work; how­ever Gentlemen, I here present you in Writing with what I design to Publish, with this Promise to the Printers of Dub­lin, that were afraid to Print the following Paper; that whatever they shall Print against me, I will take no Advantage a­gainst them for it, provided they'll declare the Author; and if I cannot have the Li­berty of the Press here, as I can in London, (tho' for every Sheet Printed in this Scuf­fle, I'll give a double Price,) I'll Answer [Page 19] what my Adversary shall Print every Day in Manuscript with my Name to it, and leave it at Patt's Coffee-House.

An Account of my Third Auction in Dublin, to be held at Patt's Coffee-House, over against St. Michael's Church in High-street, on Monday November 7th, 1698, with my Reasons for removing thither.

In a second Letter to those Gentlemen, who have bought Books at my two former Auctions.


THis present Monday being November the seventh, at Three of the Clock in the Afternoon, will begin my Third Au­ction at Patt's Coffee-House in High-street. 'Tis true, I fully designed that this Third A [...]ction, as well as my First and Second, should have been Sould at Dick's Coffee-House in Skinner-R [...]w, for I had agreed with Dick for his Back Room as long as my Sale lasted, and though I never relea­sed the Bargain (as Dick himself has own'd at the Ram in the Presence of divers Per­sons) any further, then by telling him, that I did not doubt, to have done in a few [Page 20] Days, which I only said, to shew my rea­diness to quit his Room assoon as possible I could; but Dick catching at these Words, and one Patrick Campbel designing himself to keep an Auction of Books there, and thinking that the Room where Gentlemen had found such fair Usage in my Auction, would give a Reputation to his, takes it over my Head, (and Mr. Wild's too, as he had the Promise on't, when my Sale was done) Pressing Dick to the Bargain by those moving Arguments of a double Price, or going to another Place, and easie Dick (though otherwise I hope Honest) find­ing that 'twas the Law of Auctions, that he who bids most is the Buyer, e'en lets the Room to Patrick, at the Time when 'twas actually mine, without being so fair as to cry Ten Shillings Once, a Ten Shil­lings Twice, either to my self, or to Mr. Wilde, to whom he promised the Refusal. Gentlemen, This was odd Treatment, but because my stay in Dublin won't permit me, to do my self Justice, I chose rather to quit my Right, then contend for't; but had Dick considered how far the Rules of Civility to me, and Gratitude to Mr. Wilde, should have sway'd with him, (Mr. Wilde not only being the Proprietor of the Shelves, that stood in the Room, but also [Page 21] the first that brought an Auction thither, that had kept several there, and was the means of bringing Mr. Thornton's formerly, and mine now) I say had Dick reflected on these Things, his Eyes had been Proof against the double Price (that Dick in his Letter tells me, Patrick had agreed to give him) and the Scot might have gang'd with his Pack of Bewks to another Place.

I shall be glad to see Patrick acquit him­self, but I much doubt it, when I consider, the dark usage I had in Turner (of which more hereafter) and the l'orty Shillings I had of him, was a second Part to the same Tune: You must know, Gentlemen, he [...]ragg'd of lending me Forty Shillings, when I first came to Dublin, thinking I suppose, to lessen my Credit with Printers, Stationers, and Binders, not knowing how forward they were to serve me (that so my Venture might sl [...]p in quiet, till this Geud Man had cull'd out my best Books, which I judge he thought (if the Binders were made Infidels) he shou'd have for a Song, and the rest, Gentlemen, you know might have been serviceable to your Ladies under Minc'd Pyes; in this you see the very Soul of Patrick; for he could not but know, that I had not a drop of Mechanick Blood in my whole Body (my self being the fourth John Dunton in a Lineal Descent from the Tribe of Levi) that I could bow low, but could never creep to any Thing; that I [Page 22] was born to a good Estate in Land, and had made it treble by a late Marriage; that I had brought a venture of Books to Dublin (of near Ten Tun) which could not yield less then 1500 l. and 200 l. more could I approve of Setters; and he as well knew that if I wanted an 100 l. (for the King's Customs, and other Charges, &c.) that I could have it at a Words speaking, from Mr. Lum, a Parliament Man: But for all this, he talk'd so loud of his Forty Shillings, (though then he ow'd me a greater Summ, and to this Hour is not out of my Debt) that the sound of it reach'd to England, and Mr. Wild [...], who was then in London, sent me word, he admir'd I should want Forty Shillings, when a Bill had been sent me of Forty Pound.

Gentlemen, By what I have mentioned, you see what the Scotchman ITCH'D to be at; and to add to his Favours, he now takes my Room over my Head; which I must tell him, resembles a Man I once met in my Travels, who Sold the same Book with two different Titles, Turning Hodder into Cock­er, Cumpstey into Whaley, &c. (accord­ing as his Customer wanted) with as much Dexterity as the Suttler in King Iames's Camp, who drew Ale out of one end of the Barrel, and Beer at the other. No­thing that's said here, is designed as a Re­flection on any other of my Brethren in this City, for to do 'em Justice (as I said [Page 23] in my first Letter) they acted generously, and gave me all the Countenance I could expect; all save Niff-Naff (the Proud Loon of Skinner-Row) who formerly Grin'd, and now Barks at my Underta­king. But when I came to Ireland, I ex­pected to fight with Beasts at Ephesus; and if he proceeds as he has begun, we shall Scuffle in earnest; but if we do (as good Luck is) such is the Impenetrability of Innocence, and my just Undertaking, that he can do me no Harm: For I bless God, my Name and Reputation stands much a­bove him, but he Labours (though 'tis yet in Private) to bespatter me all he can; nay Gentlemen, so [...]oul and nauseous is the Venom he spits at me, that 'tis easie to think that Nature spoil'd him in the ma­king, and set his Mouth at the wrong end; certainly, there must be a corrupted and putrified Soul within, whence (as my Friends tell me) there daily steams out so much odious and stinking Breath. 'Tis true, Gentlemen, he calls himself the een Mon of Coonshence; but I am afraid to tell you, what Persuasion he is of, seeing he has so very little either of Iustice or Hu­manity, but at present he's the Chief, if not the only Enemy I have; His Private Slanders (the more Impudent, as given at a Time when he ow'd me Money) are too notorious to need my Answer, but may teach us this, that we should Iudge [Page 22] [...] [Page 23] [...] [Page 24] of all Men's Religion by their Charity, and that to believe one Report in Twenty, is to give a very large Allowance.

I might next ask Patrick a few Questions (for Modern Athens As you will find in the Hi­story of the A­thenian Socie­ty, Printed for Jam. Dowl [...]y. owes it's Rise to my Doubts and Fears) about Campbel (alias Vre) and a certain Organist (his Tenant for one Night) I should next dragg Patrick to Waterford, and shew him Mr. Harts House, and here I could ask very odd Questions: And now my Hand's in at ask­ing of Questions, I'll ask Patrick how he rested on Sunday Night? For he was visiting the Press by seven on Monday Morning, sent his Spyes by eight, and his honest Drudges were on the Stool of Repentance by nine, and by ten (with Cap in Hand) were at down-right asking my Pardon for Composing Reasons they durst not Print; this again makes me ask, Whether Campbel did not privately see my Reasons before they went to the Press, and a Printed Copy of them after it was told me the Title was distributed? And whether he did not pay the Printers for Composing them, they being so willing, if I'd suppress this Paper, to ex­cuse me in that Matter? And if so, up­on the whole, Whether the two Printers, and Patrick, ben't Three?

Gentlemen, being fall'n amongst Prin­ters, I shall ask a Question or two about the [Page 25] Dublin-Booksellers; as, Are they a forgiving Company? (for they are so in London) and can they Pardon a kneeling Patrick, for some little Lye in way of Trade? and which he has own'd to 'em; sure they may, when he's a Saint of their own Countrey; I have more Questions to ask, and from thence could descend to others Particulars; but I'll spare Patrick for his late Iustice, in detecting the Thieves that robb'd my Ware-house; and if I knew of one more Vertue he had, I'd proclaim it on the House-top, and to make it the more observed, I would afterwards blaze it in the London-Gazette: For Gen­tlemen, as I'm a true Friend where I take a Fancy, so Patrick shall find me as fair an E­nemy; sure I am, did Gentlemen know my great Charge in Removing to Patt's, the Fo­lio's, and Buyers, which I lost upon that Occasion, they'd say I treat Patrick with a World of tenderness; all that I've said yet, is but self-Defence; and though this Feud should end with a bloody Nose (for Dick suspects it began with one) yet I'll still be so just to Patrick, as not to belye the De­vil. Gentlemen, to convince you of this, I'll venture at no Buts nor Hints of Things, (Buts and Hints, when they are no more, are the worst sort of Murthering a Man) but what I can (and will when he answers this) prove at length, on which I'll be­stow a few Annotations, as a Key to the darker Passages.

[Page 26] Thus Gentlemen have I given you the Reasons for my Removal to Patt's, wherein I have advanced nothing relating to Dick, or the een, alias only, Mon of Coonshence, (as the Geud Man at the Bible has call'd him­self) but what I'll Prove, and Reply to e­very Day, if there be Occasion.

Gentlemen, Though I have been thus thrust out of my Room to make way for St. Patrick and his Auction; I hope, you will allow me to say something of my own, though your general Acknowledgment of the fair Dealing you had in it, seems to render this Work unnecessary; for you all know, I begun my Sale on a just Foundation, did not interfere with any Man's Auction (there was none mentioned in Dublin till I came) nor did I take any Mans Room over his Head; or had I innocently done such a thing as that, upon Notice given by the injur'd Person, (such as Patrick has had over and over) I'd have flung up the Bargain at first Word: And I may speak the freer in this Matter, as 'tis a Thing I have done in London; and as I begun my Auction on a just Foundation in Dublin, so the Books I sold were as fairly bought in London; I took Advantage of no Mans Ignorance, as Mr. Wilde knows, in getting in the whole Venture; of this he can give you several Instances, but that of Mr. Sh—n might suffice for all; and as my Books were honestly bought, and the Sale begun on a right Foundation, so I have had [Page 27] a Blessing on the Undertaking; and tho' I fight with Beasts at Ephesus, whilst I've a Cordial in my own Breast, I shall fear nothing; the Truth is, I was ever more afraid of my Self then of all the World, a Man cannot fly from himself (every Man car­ries an Executioner in his own Breast) so that a Man's Conscience (in some Sence) is the only Friend or Enemy he has in the World.

Gentlemen, had I begun my Auctions (or carried them on) by other Means then is here mentioned, I should own it a piece of Impudence to desire your Company a third Time; or had I pretended Consci­ence to you, and yet play'd the Knave with Dick—(for I did not take his Room from Week to Week, as he falsly Asserts, but for as long as my Sale lasted, as several Witnesses will Depose upon Oath) 'twou'd have shown you at first glance what Can­dor you were to have in my Three Auctions; but to Rob Peter to P [...]y Paul, is a Doctrine I never practised, and scarce know what 'tis call'd; and would you have a Name for't, you must send to the een Mon of Co [...]n­shence; but though I am able to stand the Test with the same Allowance that every Man would wish for himself under the like Circum­stance, as to my Auctions here, and the whole Trading Part of my Life. yet I have Ene­mies as well as other Men (two of a Trade, can never agree) and you would [Page 28] wonder if I had not, for I have Printed Six Hundred Books, writ by Authors of diffe­rent Judgments, and 'tis strange if in draw­ing upon one another, the Bookseller (a sort of Second in such Duels) should always'scap [...] without any Wound; but though I have Ene­mies, they are only those that never knew me, or never heard what I had to say for my self.

Or else such narrow Souls as are wholly guided by self-interest. Of all that have Tra­ded with me (tho' for many Thousands) I know not of one Enemy I have in the whole World, save Patrick Campbell at the Bi­ble in Skinner-Row, and a piece of Trash that I smell beyond the Herring Pond: And to the im­mortal Glory of the Stationer's Company, I know but two more such in London, and not one of them Lives in St. Paul's Church-Yard, or at the Bible and Three Crowns; but Gentlemen, if I find out more, you shall know the Names their God-fathers gave them; but 'twill be Time enough to descend to Particulars when I leave Ire­land, and then I'll surely do it, in a Farewel Letter to those Gentlemen, that Buy what they won't Pay for.

Now Gentlemen, if my Friend Camp­bell thinks himself injur'd by these Refle­ctions, the Press is open, to him I mean, but not to me (as he has order'd it) But if I have a clear Stage, I desire no Quarter from him, for I have yet so much by me; [Page 29] which will keep Cold, as would make a PEDLAR Sweat, or as stout a Man as the great Campbell. But Gentlemen, Consci­ence makes Cowards of us all, and for that Rea­son Campbell will scarce give you the Diver­sion of a Paper War. No, Patrick is a great Man, and to scorn my Charge (as in Ye­sterdays Flying Post) is the easiest way to Answer it; the truly Valiant dare face their Danger, but I doubt my Enemy won't meet me with any Weapon but his old one of Niff-Naff, for fear his Defence in Print, should move me to new Discoveries, or to fall to Writing of Ears; but if he hangs out his Flag of Defiance, and dares answer this, let him do it while I'm here, and sub­scribe it with his right Name, as I will my Reply with John Dunton; for 'tis a pitiful Cowardize that strikes a Man in the dark, or like T. W. bites a Man by the Heel, and then like a Serpent creeps into his Hole again, for want of Courage to abet his Actions. I never in my whole Life was the first Agressor in any Quarrel, but when I am justly provok'd, I wear my Pen as others do their Sword; and if Campbell Replies to this, I'll Answer his Charge, De Die in Diem, till I have worn my Pen to the stumps.

What though I lose the Day, yet I aim high;
And to dare something, is some Victory.

[Page 30] Though Patrick can fright the Printers that Live by him, yet I do assure him, (As I tell Dorinda in my Answer to her Billet Doux) till he's Vertuous I can't Love him, and 'tis not in my Nature to fear any Thing; neither will I forget him, nor the Brass in Copper-Alley, in the History of my Summers Ramble, which will be a Crown Bound, and shall be sent to Dublin in few Weeks. When we have thus Box'd it out, We'll Kiss (as the Gentlemen of Ireland do) wash our Selves, shake Hands and Part.

But whither does my just Resentment carry me? Yet Gentlemen, I hope you'll Pardon it, for when at any Time I go out of the Way, it is rather upon the Account of Li­cense than over-sight; there be Pieces in Plu­tarch, as well as in Dunton, where he forgets his Theam; besides I'm the more excusable, as I told you I lov'd Rambling, and should visit Scotland in my way home, and you see I'm as good as my Word.

Gentlemen, I shall only add, that the Candid Treatment you have found in my Two Auctions, I hope will invite you this Afternoon to visit my Third, and to engage you to it, you will find daily in my Prin­ted Bills that I have yet divers good Books, as Doctor Barrow's Works, Josephus History in English, Rawleigh the best Editiion, Mil­ton's Political Works, and many others I han't Time to mention.

[Page 31] You will also find, I have several Ex­cellent Law Books in all Volumes, such as the Irish Statutes in Folio, and the Year Books of the best Edition, &c.

I have also in this Third Auction, A Col­lection of scarce Pamphlets on most Subjects, and when my Catalogue of Manuscripts is Publish'd (it containing great variety of Curious Subjects never yet in Print) I shan't doubt the Company of ingenuous Persons, but this being my last Sale for the Year, 1698. and my Time of Imbar­quing for London being very soon, I can allow but Two Days after the Auction is end­ed, for the taking away what you Buy in it.

To Conclude, I told you in my first Let­ter that I thought it unjust to advance the Rate upon you by any Vnder-hand Bidding, and for every Penny I got that way, I'd restore a Pound; which was not said to serve a turn, for I have been true to my Word, as a Worthy Member of the House of Com­mons (who has been a great Encourager of my Auction) has done me the Honour to Declare; and as honest Dobbs, a conside­rable Buyer, and all the Servants attending my Auction, can Testifie; but surely Gen­tlemen, the Buyer should be Iust as well as the Seller, and if you consider the vast Charge I am at to serve you (with such an Auction of New Books as never was sold in [Page 32] Ireland) you will be as forward to Pay me, as I am to subscribe my Self,

Your very humble Servant, John Dunton.
Note, Ten Shillings a Week, was as much more as I had agreed with Dick for.

To the end the foregoing Letter might be forthwith Printed, I sent it to the Person, who Printed my Auction-Bills, with this Letter, (viz.)

To the Printer.


FInding a Necessity of vindicating my self, against the ill usage of Mr. Pa­trick Campbell, and Mr. Richard Pue, I send this Second Letter (giving an Ac­count of my Third Auction) for you to Print; you see I have Subscribed my Name to it, and will own it in the Face of the Sun; and if Mr. Campbell be a generous Enemy, he will be no more angry at your Printing this, then I shall be if you Print his An­swer; nor will I ever give you any Trou­ble upon that Account, how scandalous and false soever the Things may be, that you shall Print against me, provided you will [Page 33] be ready to testifie who is the Author; but if you han't Soul brave enough to assist a Stran­ger in a Iust Cause, especially one who has been so great a Benefactor to your Art both in England and Ireland, in the last of which, I have been none of the worst of Custo­mers to you, I shall then be obliged to take other Measures to right my self: But hoping you won't give me that unnecessary Trouble, I shall only add, that I am

Your hearty Friend, John Dunton.

THus I have given you a true and im­partial Account of my Dublin Scuffle, on which I desire such Remarks as you were pleas'd to oblige me with on my form­er. I know you will deal freely with me, and therefore shall accept your Reproof for any Thing wherein you think I am faulty, as kindly as your Approbation when you think I have Right on my side; for you know I was never a Slave to my own Iudgment, but have always desired the Opinion of those whose Thoughts I valued. I am,

Yours to Command, John Dunton.

Remarks upon the Second Letter.


I Am sorry that I have happen'd to be too true a Prophet. I told you in my Last, that I foresaw you would meet with Opposition, and that too from those of your own Way of Business, but I could scarce­ly have thought that any Man who calls himself a Christian, would have attempted it in such a mean and scandalous Method.

Your Adversary may perhaps have read the Ten Commandment; but it would seem he hath altogether forgot the Last, or at least to put it in Practice; seeing he had so little Conscience as fraudulently to take your Auction-Room over your Head. Per­haps he may think 'twas but a just Repri­zal to over-bid you, on pretence that you had under-sold him, which though it had been so, is contrary to the Law of Chri­stianity, which forbids Rewarding Evil for Evil. But I don't see the least pretence he had for it. You were not the first that set up an Auction in Dublin, and it seems Patrick Campbel resolved you should not be the last, seeing he follow'd your Example, and slily bought you out of your Room, but had that been dispos'd of by way of Au­ction too, I am apt to think, you would [Page 35] have been able to Cope with him, either for Purse, or in offering a fair Price.

By what I can perceive, your Adversa­ries Courage and Christianity are both of a Piece. He was resolv'd to fight you, but that he might assure himself of the Victo­ry, he would first disarm you, or at least make sure of the longest Weapon. Like another Guy Faux, he undermin'd your Au­ction-house; and then, like an Almanzor, he Huffs and Braves you.

Truth did never yet of it's own Ac­cord affect a lurking-Hole, but has always Courage enough to stand the Test. Had Patrick's Practise been open and fair, He would never have hinder'd it's being Pub­lish'd in Print. There were other Me­thods to be taken for vindicating his Fame, than threatening your Printers, and out-bid­ding you there too: Had you advanc'd any Falshoods, the Law was open; but Patrick thought it safer to Silence the Press. E­very Cock is stout on his own Dunghil, Pa­trick Claims a Priviledge to Crow at Dublin, but he cannot hinder you to Answer him at London, so as you may be heard beyond St. George's Channel; and I am apt to think he will take no great Pleasure in hearing the Story related.

I am glad to find you retain your Cou­rage, and are not to be frighted into any thing that's Sneaking by your Adversaries big Looks or Words. Your natural Temper [Page 36] [...]ffords you Strength enough to bear up against greater Attacks than those; and if it want a Support, you know it is to be found in him who always Patronizes a Just Cause. Though you be now at a distance from your well-furnish'd Closet, there's no want of proper Helps in your present Auction-Room. Brooks's Remedies against Satan's Devices, may be a proper Book for you to consult on this Occasion. I am glad to hear that my former, has contributed any thing to fortifie you against this Encoun­ter. I am of Opinion, your Adversary will have no occasion to Triumph, when he casts up his Accounts, either with his own Conscience (if it be his Custom to keep a fair Reckoning there) or when he comes to count his Gains by his Envious Auction, which fastens the brand of foul Guilt upon him. But it seems Patrick has a Mind to be the sole Bookseller and Auctioneer in Dub­lin, at what Rate soever.

I am much surpriz'd at the meanness of his Temper in talking of lending you Forty Shillings, which to be sure he knew you could not want, when you brought such a Cargo of Books with you, though you had not had a good Estate in England to depend upon. I question very much, whether Patrick's Estate be able to ballance yours, and I am satisfied he cannot be a better Husband than you are known to be; nor more Industrious in his Calling; but [Page 37] Malice and Covetousness in one Man, (and indeed they are seldom to be found asun­der) are enough to transform him into a Monster, and by your Character of Patrick, I can form no other Idea of him, but that he is one of the worst sort. His Pretensi­ons to Conscience on the one Hand, and ma­king no Conscience of depriving you of your Auction-Room, and bespattering your Reputation on the other, are very becom­ing a Man who can sell one Book for two, un­der different Titles. So that Patrick it seems is a Saint on one side, and a Devil on the o­ther; and can shew himself in various Shapes, as occasion requires: I am Glad you were aware of his Tricks, and did not suf­fer him to Gull your Library, though there's no doubt, his disappointment in that, is one of the Chief Causes of the base Treatment you meet with at his Hands.

I am very well pleas'd, that the other Dublin-Booksellers behaved themselves with more Candour and Generosity towards you, and that the whole Mass was not corrupted by Patrick's Envy.

The Questions you propose to him, and the odd hints you give of his Practice, I hope are founded upon good Information: otherwise, I would not advise you to Pub­lish them; lest they be thought Envious, and may detract from your own Reputa­tion, instead of painting him in his true Colours; but if the Things be known, [Page 38] and that the divulging of 'em are necessary for your own Vindication, I have the less to say against it. It is fit an Hypocrite should be discovered to the World, that he may be render'd uncapable of deceiving more.

I cannot however approve of your Nati­onal Reflections, for you know there are Good and Bad in all Countries; and it may perhaps be ill resented, if ever you should attempt an Auction at Edinburgh, as you seem to Design.

It's true, you have Provocation enough from Patrick to display his Personal Faults, for I perceive he is not so open hearted as you are, but works like a Mole under Ground, and undermines you with very much Art. Were his Industry and Management right­ly applied, he would deserve a Commen­dation; but as it is otherwise, the more Industrious and Dexterous he is, the more he discovers his Wickedness. Your com­mending him when he does well, gives an Air of Ingenuity and Truth to the whole of your Ac­cusation; and I am verily persuaded, that if any part of it be a Lie, it's none of your making—And seeing you offer to prove the Truth of every Thing, if Patrick dares to contradict it, I must needs say, it's a fair offer, but inauspicious for Patrick; for go which way it will, he's like to come off with the Loss. If he does not Answer you, he seems to own the Truth of your Charge; so that were he of my Temper, [Page 39] he would rather Venture to try it out with you, for he can but come off with loss at last.

I am glad you have so many Witnesses to prove the fairness of your Proceedings, for they are as many to fasten the Guilt upon Patrick and Dick; and therefore I plainly see through the Reason of Patrick's un­willingness to engage you in Print; he is better at the short Dagger of Calumny and Reproach behind your Back, than at fair Wea­pons Face to Face; he's for underhand Buying, and underhand Fighting: Yet he may re­member, that Guy Faux was at last blown up by his own dark Lanthorn.

I must Confess, that your having Prin­ted so many Books as you mention, is very ex­traordinary; and it had been a Miracle, if you could have escap'd without Reflections from one or other upon that very Account; and therefore you have Reason to bear with the common Fate of those of your Trade, who Print for Authors of different Iudgments; wherein you have scarcely had a common Share, for I dare venture to say it, that there are few of the Calling, but have more Enemies than your self. I never heard of any you had before, and therefore you have Reason to boast, if you have but one or two in Three Kingdoms.

I must needs approve your Design of Printing your Defence when you come to England, since Patrick it seems has the sole Priviledge of the Press in Ireland; but if [Page 40] you do, be sure to keep within due bounds, and don't make use of all the Advantage, which the goodness of your Cause puts in your Hand, though I think you have little need of this Caution; you have promised your Adversary generous Treatment, and I never yet knew you worse than your Word.

If Patrick don't Reply, it must be be­cause he cannot, for that Advertisement which you mention of his in the Flying Post, is sufficient to shew that he would if he could; and if that be the Issue, then you have Reason to Crow over him in England, as he Insulted you in Ireland. But one Thing I would advise you against, be not two Voluminous. There are but few, who will be at the Pains to read a large Relation of a particular Quarrel; and therefore, I would advise you to set Bounds to your Fancy. Your Credit is well enough Establish'd in England, and I don't find that you have done any Thing to lessen it in Ire­land, so that a short Defence will serve. Nay I am of Opinion, that a plain Narrative of Matter of Fact, will be Apology enough for your Self, and Punishment enough for Pa­trick Campbel.

The Copy of your Letter to the Printer, is so fair and generous, that nothing can be said more, to prove that your Adversary has neither Candour nor Courage; if he don't allow the Printer to accept your offer; but by what I can guess of the Mans Temper, [Page 41] you are neither to expect that, nor any thing else that is fair from him▪ and therefore a Victory over such an Adversary is scarce worth the contending for.

I am, Sir, Yours, &c.

The Third Letter.


YOUR Remarks upon my Dublin-Scufflle, hitherto have been so Im­partial, that it encourages me to proceed in my giving you the remaining part of this Encounter; I have proceeded so far, as to give you a hint of our first Scuffle at Dick's Coffee-House, and my Reasons for removing to Patt's: I shall now proceed to tell you, That the next day after I went to Patt's, I Printed the following Advertisement, that so the Citizens of Dublin might know of my Removal, and my Reasons for it: The Advertisement was this, viz.


THe Reasons for Removing my Third Auction to Patt's Coffee-House, had been Publish'd Yesterday, had not Mr. Patrick Campbell over-aw'd the Printer, by Threat­ning to take away his Work, and Arrest him into the Bargain, in case he proceeded to Print off what was Compos'd at his House. The said Reasons, fairly writ on a Sheet of Royal Paper, [Page 42] may be seen by any Gentleman that pleases, with my Name Subscribed to it, at Patt's Cof­fee-House, this Afternoon at Three of the Clock.

John Dunton.

This Advertisement was no sooner Pub­lisht, but the English Packet Arrived; and that day, in the Flying Post, my Adversary Publish [...]d the following Reflections, which I shall insert here, that the World may see he has a fair Enemy, and that I do him all the [...]ustice I can.

His Reflections were these, viz.

WHEREAS it is Published by Mr. Richard Wilde in Mr. Iohn Dunton's Advertisement of the Second of November, that the Auction-Room was taken over his Head.—This is to inform all Persons, That the said Report is False and Malicious; for Mr. Wilde was not the Person that did take the House; and Mr. Dunton, who took it, had it only from week to week, and gave me Notice, in the begin­ning of October, That he wou'd have done within the said Month; and I can certify, That Mr. Campbell, who has now taken the said Room, was very Cautious and well informed, That he did not take it over another Mans Head: and, now says, he Scorns Mr. Dunton's Reflections, and shall [Page 43] neither give him, nor Mr. Wilde, any other Answer.

Richard P [...]e.


I was no sooner made acquainted, that my Enemy had Publisht the above men­tioned Reflections, but I went to Patt's Coffee-House, and there writ the following Answer.

A Brief Answer to some Lying and standa­lous Reflections, Published by Richard Pue, in the Reprinted Flying Post, Novem­ber 7. 1698.

WHEREAS in the Flying Post Reprinted at Dublin, and Pub­lished November the 7th 1698. There is a Lying Advertisement, subscribed by Rich. Pue. (who is made the Cats Foot by Pa­trick Campbell) without either Sense or Co­herence, which runs thus: Whereas it is Published by Mr. Richard Wilde, in Mr. John Dunton's Advertisement of the second of November, That the Auction-Room was taken over his Head, &c. This indeed Mr. Wilde has not only Published, but is ready to prove by several Witnesses, as he has already done to Mr. Pue's Face: To this Mr. Pue (according to his usu­al Modesty) answers, That the Report is False and Malicious, for Mr. Wilde is not [Page 44] the Person that did take the House: Mr. Wilde never said he did; nor had Dick wrong'd me (if he had also added (when his Hand was in) nor Mr. Dunton nei­ther; for I took only the Auction-Room: But this is either according to Dick's Vn­derstanding; or else one of Patrick's Jesui­tical Equivocations to creep out at: The Sense of which is, That the Auction-Room was not taken over Mr. Wilde's Head, be­cause he is not the Person that took the House: Now where the Coherence of this is, he that knows can tell. But though Mr. Wilde did not take the House, yet Mr. Pue promis'd him the Refusal of the Au­ction-Room, when my Auction was done, which Dick has not only own'd, but told Mr. Campbel as much. To this Dick ve­ry wisely says nothing, because he has no­thing to the Purpose to say. As to my self, he tells two Notorious Vntruths: One is, That I took his Auction-Room only from Week to Week; whereas I took it during the whole Time of the Sale of my Three Auctions, paying 5s. per Week while I kept it. This I can prove by two Wit­nesses upon Oath. The other Untruth is, That I gave him notice the beginning of October, that I should have done by the end of that Month; whereas he himself, not long since, confess'd before several Witnesses, That I took it during the whole Sale of my Auctions, and that I never Re­leas'd [Page 45] him. This he did so lately, he can't forget it: And he that will put his Name to so Notorious a Lye, and know it to be so, (which is Dick's Case,) may well be suppos'd to scruple nothing.—As to what he says of Patrick's being so Cautious of taking the Room over my Head, it is like a Man's asking his. Fellow whe­ther he be a Thief. And for his saying, that Campbel scorns my Reflections; I believe 'tis the wisest Course he can take; for I am sure it is far easier to scorn 'em, then answer 'em. But though he scorus 'em, Vnderstanding Men will see what weight, as well as what Truth there is in 'em: To whose Impartial Judgment I submit 'em. But I shall add no more here, but [...]efer all Gentlemen to Patt's Coffee-House in High-street, where my Reasons for Re­moving thither) are to be seen fairly writ in Two Sheets of Royal [...]aper.

John Du [...]ton.


After (I had Publish'd this) Answer, to Mr. Pue's Reflections, Mr. Wilde being therein abused as well as my self, thought it proper to Publish the following Lines, viz.

Whereas R. Pue. hath Yesterday by the Instigation of [...] Neighbour Mr. [Page 46] Campbel, Published in the Re-printed Fly­ing P [...]st, a Notorious False Advertise­ment, that the Auction-Room at Dick's was not taken over my Head. I do by these Certifie, That I can prove by several Witnesses that I had Dick's solemn Pro­mises of the Refusal of the said Room as soon as Mr. Dunton had done with it: And the Reasons for such his Promises were, for that I was the Proprietor of the Shelves then standing in his Room, and that I had kept several of my own Aucti­ons, and brought Mr. Thornton's and Mr. Dunton's thither.

Richard Wilde.

Thus Sir, have I fairly stated the Con­troversie 'tween Patrick Campbel (his Tool Dick) and my Self, but least you should think me too Partial in my own Cause, as you have heard what my Self, and Mr. Wilde have to say for our selves (for en­gaging in this Scuffle) so I'll next insert the Testimony of Three Persons (and you know Sir, a Threefold Cord is Eccles. 4. 11. not easily broken) further confirming the Truth of what I have said.

WE the Persons whose Names are hereunto Subscribed, do hereby Attest and Declare, that about the begin­ning [Page 47] of this Month of November, Richard Pue did publickly own in our hearing, that Mr. Dunton never released him of the A­greement he first made with him, which A­greement was, That Mr. Dunton should have the Auction-Room as long as he had occasion for it, paying 5. s. per Weak.

Subscribed in the Presence of
  • Math. Gu [...]ne
  • Samuel Lucas.
  • Patrick Tracy.
  • Heneage Price
  • George Larkin
  • William Robinson.

Thus Sir, have I given you a further Account of my Scuffle with Patrick Campbel, on which your Impartial Thoughts are desired by.

Your obliged Friend and Servant, John Dunton.

Remarks on my Third Letter.


I Am Glad if my Remarks be any way pleasing or useful to you, and shall answer your Desire in sending you my Thoughts upon your further Scuffling with Patrick and Dick. Your Advertisement upon your Removal to Patt's Coffee-House; was Necessary and Just, and Patrick's pre­venting [Page 48] your Publishing your Reasons in Print, according to his usual sly Manner, is Argument enough to prove that he durst not refer his Cause to the Determination of the Publick; and indeed I do not won­der at it, for Injustice may well be asham'd to show its Face. Besides, it seems its Patrick's Character, to work like a Mole under Ground; for though he Loves to Act Vnjustly, he does not Love to Appear so. It's the Na­ture of a Hypocrite to wear a Rough Gar­ment to deceive.

It was the next, and the only Course left you, to Publish your Advertisement, that Patrick might a little appear in his Colours, and in the mean Time to Pub­lish your Reasons in Writing, was an Ar­gument of true English Courage, to Face your Adversary with such Weapons as you could come at, when your Cowardly Ad­versary had depriv'd you of any other, be­cause he knew he durst not engage you on Equal Terms.

His Publishing a Reflection upon you in the Reprinted Flying Post, was another Effect of his dastardly Temper, seeing he would not allow you the same Liberty; and there­fore Mr. Wilde's Advertisement against Campbel and Dick was very proper and ne­cessary; nothing could more effectually vindicate your Honesty, and prove your Adversaries falshood, and unfair way of Dealing; and I doubt not, but the Pub­lick [Page 49] would take it, as a sufficient Proof of it.

Your own Answer too was highly necessa­ry, and in my Opinion very pertinent: You therein expose Patricks and Dicks Hy­pocritical Equivocations to the Life, and see­ing Mr. Wilde seconded the Truth of your Assertions, by his Advertisement, and that you so boldly offer to prove the Truth of what you Assert in yours, its next to prov­ing Patrick a Liar on Record.

I am far from questioning the Truth of what you have from Time to Time in­form'd me of as to the Dublin Scuffle, and should have believ'd it on your own Asser­tion. I have not known you so long, but that I am very well satisfied, you were never taken for a Liar at home, and I have no Reason to think you have chang'd your Temper by going to Ireland. However, your Prudence and Caution is commenda­ble to have your Proceedings well attested, for that is certainly the best way to stop the Mouths of your Cavilling Adversaries. I am,

Your assured Friend and Servant.

The Fourth Letter.


I Have now proceeded to give you the History of the Dublin Scuffle, so far as the small Skirmishes of Bills and Advertise­ments. I am next to tell you, what the Learned Gentlemen of Ireland (who were Spectators of this Scuffle) thought of the Encounter: And to set this matter in the Truer Light, I shall here insert the Letter I sent by Mr. Wilde, To the Right Reve­rend the Lord Bishop of Clogher; with the Answer his Lordship was pleased to send me. I had not presum'd to have Publisht the Bishops Answer, but his Lordship is a Person of very Great Honour, and Strickt Justice (as I hint in my Farewell Letter) and will be the sooner enclin'd to pardon a Presumption, which is so absolutely Neces­sary to the Vindication of my Innocence.

My Letter to the Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Clogher, in Dublin,

May it Please Your Lordship!

I AM Sorry I had not the Honour, to be in my Auction-Room this Morning, [Page 51] when your Lordship was there, that I might have return'd my Humble Thanks, for that Great Encouragement your Lordship has given to my Book-Adventure, as Mr. Wilde informs me: Had I met with none but such Generous Buyers as your Lord­ship and the rest of the Clergy of Ireland, my Undertaking had been more Fortunate: For, My Lord, I have had Great Injustice from some Persons who have bought what they won't Pay for; and in particular, from one Campbell, who attempted to Mur­ther my Reputation; and not contented with that piece of Revenge (for my endea­vouring to serve this Countrey with Books) he afterwards, takes my Auction-Room over mine and Mr. Wilde's head; and whilst I was in it, declares, I had Setters; though I assured the Buyer; That for every Penny I got that Vnlawful Way, I'd restore a Pound: My Lord, I own it my Duty, to forgive Injuries; but Campbell justifies this Vile Treatment; and therefore, My Lord, I am obliged to Publish this Dublin Scuffle, to justifie my own Innocence; and to bring him, if possible (according to the Scotch Phrase) to the stool of Repentance. I am pleas'd, to hear your Lordship is not angry at my Intention herein; and as the Speaker of the House of Commons, has done me the Ho­nour, to desire a sight of my first Draught, in Manuscript; so your Lordship has likewise been pleas'd to Honour me, by de­siring [Page 52] a sight of the same, in Print; which as it obliges me to Publish nothing but real Truth; so it encourages me to hope, That the Publishing my Dublin Scuffle, will bring Campbell to a sense of his Error. I have only to beg your Lordship's Pardon for this Presumption, and to assure your Lordship, that I am,

Your Lordship's most Obliged and very Humble Servant. John Dunton.

The Bishop of Clogher's Answer to the Foregoing Letter.

Mr. Dunton!

I Received your Letter, and am ex­treamly well Satisfied of your Iustice and Fair Dealing in your Late Auction, and of the Fidelity of Mr. Wilde, whom you Employ'd: You shall always have this Testimony, from

Your Humble Servant, St. Geo: Clogher.


YOUR Remarks upon this Honoura­ble Testimony of the Bishop of Clogher, relating to my SCUFFLE with Patrick Campbell, will further Oblige.

Your Humble Servant, John Dunton.

Remarks on my Fourth Letter.


I Was sufficiently Satisfied by your Last, that your Justice, in relation to the Controversie betwixt Patrick Campbell, and your Self, was undeniable; and therefore the further Testimonies which you have now sent me of it, are ex Superabandanti; but I confess, the Quality of 'em is such, that you ought not to have omitted them; especially when you had seemingly trans­gress'd the Rules of Good Breeding so far, as to trouble such an Eminent Person as the Lord Bishop of Clogher, with a Letter on that Subject.

It was indeed a necessary Piece of Gra­titude, and an Acknowledgment due to the Bishop's Character and Personal Merit, to return his Lordship Thanks for the Incou­ragement [Page 54] he had given to your Auction, and it was no less than Justice to the Clergy of Ireland, to own their Generous Deport­ment, and the Countenance they gave to your Undertaking; but I cannot altoge­ther approve of your troubling that Great Prelate, who has the Charge of so many Weighty Affairs upon his Shoulders, with such a Minute Affair as you Scuffle with Patrick Campbel.

But seeing his Lordship was so kind as to take your Presumption in good part, and has been so condescending as to give you such a generous Testimony of the Fairness of your dealing in your Auction: I cannot but admire the Excellency of his Lordships Temper, and applaud your successful boldness.

You and your Friend Mr. Wilde have Reason to Value your selves upon the Te­stimony of a Person of so great Worth, which to be sure will give a Reputation to your Management with all Men of Sense and Honour; for I cannot but think, that the Testimony of a Bishop and Privy Councel­lour, will infinitely out-weigh the Calum­nies of a Pedlar turn'd Bookseller, and his Tool a Coffee-man. Besides, the Reputati­on which his Lordship has for his Learn­ing and Piety, makes it evident, that he look'd upon your Design as very subservi­ent to the Interest of Learning in that Kingdom; seeing he gave so much Incou­ragement to it.

[Page 55] What you say of bringing Patrick to the Stool of Repentance, has something of an Im­propriety in it, except you suppose him to have been Cock-Baud to your Dorinda, for that Pennance is not (as I am inform'd) injoin'd in his Countrey upon any but those who are guilty of Vncleanness—But perhaps, because Patrick may have a Dorinda, which he may Love as himself; you may think that he ought to mount the Stool of Repentance for h [...]r Billet Douxes. If this be your meaning, I wish you had let it alone, for I am afraid if that Custom should take Place, it might bring a great many of your Acquaintance in England to stand in a White Sheet for the Faults of their She-Friends; and I know you are so good natur'd, that you would not willing­ly wish them so much harm.

It's true, that you for your own Part have been happier than many. Your first Wifes Vertue put Her beyond the reach of Su­spicion, and that of your second is Vnattack­able; but though you and they have been mutually happy in one another, so that you had no occasion for a She-Friend, yet you ought to consider that there are many of your Acquaintance that have not had so good a Fate.

However, as to your Adversary Patrick, whether he deserve the Stool of Repentance for his own personal Crimes or not, I know not; but this I am sure of, that if [Page 56] the Character given of him be true, he de­serves an Advancement of as Publick a Na­ture, and something like the other too; for as the Stool of Repentance in his Coun­trey is rais'd so high, that the Criminal who is plac'd upon it may be seen by all that are in the Church; he seems to de­serve to be elevated above his Brethren in a Publick Market-place, with a Hole for his Head, and one for each Hand, and to have the Title Page of Hodder transform'd into Cocker, &c. Nail'd over his Head.

But to return to your Scuffle. Your im­parting that Affair to the Lord Bishop of Clogher, and the Speaker of the House of Commons, seems to be a very good Impri­matur; but at the same Time, it is incum­bent upon you to take Care, that there be nothing in it, too mean to deserve such a License, and that may be unfit for one of your Business and Reputation to divulge; for though, I doubt not, but you will keep Religiously to Truth; yet you know that all the Truth is not to be spoken at all Times, and somethings may be too Trifling to de­serve the View of the Publick; therefore peruse every Thing carefully before it be Printed off. You see I make use of my wonted Freedom with you, as becomes one who is

Your Cordial Friend.

The Fifth Letter.


I Am still Scuffling with Patrick Camp­bel; but such is the Advantage of a Just Cause, that my Auction prospers maugre all the Malice and Venom he spits at that and me. The first Auction I made (after my Removal to Patt's Coffee-House) was still crouded with generous Buyers; and notwithstanding the Opposition I meet from Campbel, I have now proceeded so far in the disposing my whole Venture, as to come to what I call (the word Auction being worn Thread-bare) my Farewel Sale. That I may give you the better Idea of these Proceedings, and set the Dublin-Scuffle in a yet clearer Light; I here send you the Ac­count of this Farewel Sale, with the Atte­station concerning my Self, and my Three Auctions, which are now ended. This fur­ther Account of the Dublin-Scuffle, you'll find in my Third Letter, to those worthy Gen­tlemen that were Encouragers of my Vnderta­king; which Letter was Entituled,

The Farewel-Sale at Patt's Coffee-House.

[And is as follows, viz.]


THough my Three Auctions are now ended, I have yet Variety of Books left, so I design to try your generous Bid­ding a Fourth Time, which I'll call my Farewel Sale. It shall begin the following Monday at Three in the Afternoon at Patt's Coffee-House in High-street, and shall end December the first, neither will I exceed that, resolving (God-willing) to Embark for London December 5th. 'Tis true I have Books enough to continue the Sale much longer, but Native Countrey has Charms in it, and I am very desirous to be at home: And therefore December 5th, I shall bid you all Farewel: for though when my Fourth Sale is over, I shall still have Quantities left, yet all that is then remaining I'll lump to the Booksellers of Dublin (to whom you must give higher Rates, of which the Sale of the French Book of Martyrs, is a late In­stance) or if we can't agree, the same Ship that brought 'em hither, will be able to carry 'em back.

The Conditions of this last Sale are, That whatever is bought till Thursday Night, be [Page 59] all paid the following Fryday; and for what has been bought in my Three past Au­ctions, 'tis expected they should be all fetcht away by Saturday the 26th Instant: In or­der to which, constant Attendance shall be given at Patt's Coffee-House; from eight in the Morning till eight at Night.

Gentlemen, I promis'd you in my last Catalogue, The Dublin-Scuffle—And the History of my Summers Ramble, and I'll be as good as my word, (for I [...]ll Print 'em as soon as I get to London) and send 'em to Patt's Coffee-House in High-street, except Patrick will Publickly own the Publick Injury he did me, and then I will even forgive Patrick Campbel, and forget his Taking my Room over my Head (though 'tis Thought I'm an Hundred Pounds the worse for't, considering the Goods and Buyers I lost on that occasion) but if he has not the Grace to ask my Pardon (for the notorious Inju­ries he did me) I Pray God forgive him and Dick too, and in return I hope they'll wish me a Boon-Voyage, in regard they'll be rid of one durst tell 'em the Truth, and af­terwards send it to Patt's Coffee-House in Red-Letters. And seeing they dare not an­swer my Broadside whilst I am in Dublin, (and whenever they do, I'll reply to 'em, though as far as Rome,) that they might not wrong me after I am gone, some of my Friends, that best know me, have vo­luntarily Subscribed the following Attesta­tion.

The Attestation.

WE whose Names are hereunto Sub­scribed, being all of us Present at Mr. Iohn Dunton's Three Auctions in Dub­lin, and having seen the Management thereof every Day; do hereby Attest, That as all was carried on and Managed with the greatest Candour and Sincerity imaginable, by Mr. Dunton, so the gene­rality of those Gentlemen that bought his Books, have acknowledged in our hear­ing, That they had all the fair Dealing that they could desire: And we can more particularly affirm, That Mr. Dunton's Demeanour during his whole Auctions, has been such, as has given Content to all Gentlemen there: For whereas in other Auctions it is common to have Setters to raise the value of the Books, in Mr. Dunton's Auction we are sure there was none, from the beginning to the end: Mr. Dunton ha­ving absolutely declar'd against it, as not fair nor honest. And we do further At­test, to our certain Knowledge, That in all his Concernments, with the Printers, Stationers, Binders, and others (which was very considerable) he paid every one, not only to a Penny, but even to a single Half-Penny, so very exact and scru­pulous [Page 61] he was of wronging them. And as to the several Places where the said Mr. Dunton lodg'd, he not only paid his Quar­ters according to Agreement, but like­wise gratify'd 'em for any Trouble that was extraordinary, by Sickness, or other­wise. And that in all his said Lodgings, his way of Living was so inoffensive and blameless, that he was (as Caesar would have had his Wife) not only free from blame, but from all Suspicion of it. And as to the Controversie he has had with Mr. Patrick Campbel, we do hereby Attest, That Mr. Campbel was altogether the Aggressor; for though Mr. Campbel had us'd Mr. Dunton very Barbarously at his first coming over, yet Mr. Dunton took no notice of it, till Campbel had Taken his Auction-Room over his Head, by offering a double Price (as Dick the Coffee-man al­ledged in our hearing) and yet even then Mr. Dunton was so fair, as to offer to close his Auctions in one Weeks Time more, provided he might tarry in it so long, though he had then Two Hundred Pounds [...]orth of Books to Sell, and that he would Lump the Remainder; which Campbel absolutely refused. And notwithstand­ing such his refusal, yet we do Attest, That Mr. Dunton has been so favourable to the said Campbel, that he has not rela­ted those ill Things of him which he might have done; and which he was urg­ed [Page 62] by several Persons to do. Nor is there any thing Mr. Dunton has said of him, but what to our Knowledge he has divers Witnesses to prove it, if there be occasi­on.

Subscribed in the Presence of
  • Fra. Lee,
  • Matth. Gunne,
  • Matthew Read,
  • Samuel Lucas,
  • Richard Wilde,
  • Heneage Price,
  • George Larkin,
  • William Robinson.

THe foregoing Attestation is Printed Word for Word as my Friends brought it to me, and is Subscribed by Four Persons of known Integrity, and sign'd in the Presence of Four more; which I hope will fully convince you that I am (as I said in my last Catalogue)

Your very Faithful, and very humble Servant, John Dunton.

THus (Sir) you find I am come to the Conclusion of my Three Auctions, wherein I have related my Scuffle with Pa­trick Campbel, with as much Sincerity and Candour as I would have done were I now leaving the World; but whether I have done so or no, is left to your Remarks, which I desire by the first Post, by which you'll further oblige,

Your Hearty Friend and Servant, John Dunton.

Remarks on my Fifth Letter.


I Am sorry to find that Patrick is not yet reduc'd to Reason, though I think there's no great Cause to wonder at it, for I am apt to think his Reason and Religion, are much of a Piece. I am glad however, that his Malice proves Toothless, or that at best it is worn to the stumps. It is but just, that dishonesty should be unsuccess­ful, though many Times we see the All­wise Providence order it otherwise, for a while at least.

Your Farewel Sale demonstrates your Courage and Honesty, in that you durst [Page 64] Appeal to the Publick, and Patricks own Con­science, for the Justice of your Cause. The offer you made him of suppressing your de­sign'd Narrative or Character of him, if he would publickly own the Injury he did you, is highly Generous; considering how much you had been a loser by it. There are few Men, but would have demanded Restitution as well as Repentance, but I don't find that Patrick is so good a Christian as to offer you either; and therefore, I think no Man can justly blame you for exposing him in his own Colours to the View of the World, according to your Promise: But be sure to keep a steady Hand; for though I am of Opinion, you can scarcely miss such ugly and course Features; yet, you know the Proverb, Give the Devil his due, includes a good Lesson of Morality in it, and there­fore, I hope you will represent him no worse than he really is. I must needs al­so tell you, that unless you be satisfied in your own Conscience, that it is necessary to do this for the Defence of your own Re­putation, you will run a great hazard of breaking the Ninth Commandment.

The Proposals you make to your Buyers in your Farewel Sale, are Just and Reasona­ble, and a Proof at the same time that you design'd no Injury to your Brethren the Booksellers by your Auction, seeing you are willing to let them have Lumping Penny-worths at Last, that they may be Sharers [Page 65] in the Profit of your Book-Adventure, as well as others.

As to the Attestation of your Friends, it was kind in them to offer it, and necessary for you to have it. I question much whe­ther Patrick can produce the like Behavi­our in any Respect.

Your Precaution in this Matter is very commendable, for you have thereby in my Opinion stop'd the Mouths of all Ca­villers, as to every Part of your Conversati­on, since you arriv'd in Dublin; and in Lon­don, your just and scrupulous way of dea [...] ­ing, sets you above De [...]action: Or [...] worst, a generous [...] minds not the yelping of every little Cur. I am glad to find, that the Ill Treatment you have met with from others, has not inspir'd you with the same unjust Sentiments to­wards them. And that it is fully prov'd by this Attestation, that Patrick was the first Aggressor, and took your Room over your Head; and therefore, I think that the Publishing of this, and some other of the most remarkable Passages of Patrick's Inju­stice, were enough to blacken him, and to vindicate you in the Eyes of all Honest Men, without your putting your self to the trouble and expence of a Voluminous de­tail of Particulars, which few can Pur­chase; besides, Patrick is not a Man of that Character, that his Life will be much Re­garded, though it had been writ by Plu­tarch [Page 66] himself; and therefore, it will be your Wisdom and Interest to be Brief. I am,

Your Friend and Servant.

The Sixth Letter.


IN the History of the Dublin Scuffle, I am come so far, as to acquaint you (in spight of all the Opposition made a­gainst me by Patrick Campbel) that I was got to the Conclusion of my Three Auctions and Farewel Sale. I have had many a wea­ry step (as well as the Impudence of Camp­bel, to Cope with) in the disposing of this Venture; but (through God's Blessing on my Undertaking) I am now come near the winding up of my bottom in this Coun­trey; for Yesterday I Publisht a Paper, which I call'd—The Packing Penny, (a new Phrase to invite Company)—Sir, As this Paper has some Relation to Patrick Campbel, 'tis fit I should send you a Copy of it, that nothing relating to my Scuffle with him might 'scape your Censure—This Paper was my Fifth Letter to those Gentlemen that attended my Auctions, and was Entituled,

The Packing Penny.

[And is as follows, viz.]


THough my Three Auctions and Fare­wel Sale are now ended, yet I have still quantities of Books left, which (for a Packing-Penny) I'll Sell at very Reason­able Rates; (the Sale to begin Tuesday De­cember the 13th in the Morning, and to end the same Evening.) Gentlemen, I shan't sell these remaining Books by way of Auction, but at such easie Rates as shall be agreed upon between Mr. Wilde and the Buyer. 'Tis true, when I consider, I had no Setter in any of my Four Sales, I could not have thought that any would have been so Vnjust as to Buy what they won't Pay for; but I was mistaken! But (to the Honour of the Tribe of Levi) no Clergy-man in Ire­land has treated me in this Manner: I mention this, that the World may see I design'd no Reflection on those Learned Gentlemen, in my Advertisement of Iuly the 9th, for though the Enemies of my Un­dertaking wrested my Words to that pur­pose, yet nothing was ever further from my Thoughts; for besides that I my self have the Honour to be the Son of a Clergy­man [Page 68] (who as a PoetSee the Poem dedi­cated to the Sons of the Clergy on their Annual Feast in 1682. says—Do all breathe something more then common Air)—I dare boldly as­sert, that no Man in this King­dom has an higher esteem of that Sacred Order than my self. But as in this I have done Justice to the Clergy of Ireland, so I resolve to do some to my self; and whatever Notions some YOUNG CASVISTS may have of refusing to fetch what others (whom they out-bid) would have honestly paid for; yet they shall find I dare call a Spade a Spade, if they live to read The History of my Summers Ramble, &c. or, The Dublin-Scuffle, which I finish't in this Countrey (at the Barbarous Provo­cation of Patrick Campbel) and will Pub­lish as soon as I get to London.

And here Gentlemen, I can't forbear telling you (a second Time) that notwith­standing I have with an excessive Charge brought over the best Collection of valua­ble Books that ever was exposed in this Kingdom, and have treated both in my Catalogues, and otherwise, my Brethren in this City, and the rest of Mankind, with the greatest Respect and Civility; and been so just to them, as not in the least to employ any Setter (in any of my Four Sales) but wholly to submit my large Venture to the Mercy, Candour, and Generosity of the Bidders: Yet after all this Fair Play for their Money, I understand, [Page 69] such hath been the Practice of some Per­sons (from some of whom better usage might be expected, considering their Cha­racter in the World) as maliciously and ignorantly to discourage those Worthy Gentlemen and Clergy-men that were disposed to furnish themselves with Good Books. Gentlemen, this usage is unbe­coming any thing of a Christian, especial­ly, &c. who by his setting up for a Bante­rer, contrary to Christianity, spoils his Neighbours fair Market; making good what Solomon so long ago observ'd, It is naught, it is naught, saith the Buyer, but when he is gone, he boasteth. This is there­fore to give Notice to the World, That as I Act upon the Fairest and Justest Bottom that can be, in this last Sale, which I call the Packing Penny, so I am resolved to vin­dicate my Proceedings; and in order there­unto, if I can have but good Proof, that either without Doors, but more especially at my Sale, of any Persons, that shall take the Liberty to spoil my Market; I am re­solved to bring Actions of Damage against those Persons that shall be guilty of such Notorious Actions.

Gentlemen, I shall only add, That as I never reflected on Patrick Campbel, or any Man in my whole Life, without a just Provocation (as I am ready to prove whilst I am in Dublin;) So I must acquit all the Persons concern'd in my Auctions, of ha­ving [Page 70] any hand in any thing I Publisht here, it being (as the Scuffle is) writ with my own Hand, and Subscribed by

Your most Obliged and very Humble Servant. John Dunton.

All Gentlemen are desired to take Notice, That what is Bought at this Sale, is to be deliver'd and paid for at the same Time.


THis Packing Penny was no sooner ta­ken, and the remaining Books Sold in the Lump to Honest Gun (for about an Hundred Pound) but Mr. Wilde Publisht the following Advertisement, further prov­ing my Charge against Dick and Campbel. It also gives an Account of an Auction, he designs on his own Account, as soon as I leave Ireland.

Mr. Wilde's Advertisement was this, viz.

MY Friend Mr. Dunton's Three Au­ctions, Farewel Sale, and Packing Penny, ending this Night; I thought fit to give Notice to all the Lovers of Learning, That I design (God willing) within a few Days after Mr. Dunton's departure, to Expose by Auction a considerable Parcel of good Books of my own, at Patt's Cof­fee-House in High-Street, where I now am, by reason of Dick the Coffee-Man's (contrary to Solemn Promises before Wit­nesses, as well as all the Bonds of Grati­tude) Letting the Room I had, to Mr. Campbel over my Head; and though Mr. Campbel thinks to excuse himself by lay­ing the Sole Fault upon Dick; yet Casu­ists will inform him, that He who either by his Threats of taking the Great Room at the Dukes-Head Tavern, or by the mighty Allurement of a Double Rate, as Dick has under his Hand Asserted, shall Tempt or Corrupt a Person that is not Proof against a base Temptation; is as much, if not more to blame, than the Person so Corrupted.

R. Wilde.

Thus Sir, have I sent you an Account of the Packing Penny, (it relating to the [Page 72] Dublin Scuffle) and also Mr. Wilde's Opi­nion of Campbel and Pue (on which I de­sire your Thoughts) I formerly sent you those others Papers, wherein the Scuffle 'tween Iohn Dunton, and Patrick Campbel is any ways hinted at; all which Papers (save my Reasons for removing to Patt's) were Printed in Dublin; but what I have further to send you relating to this Scuffle, is what the Printers of Dublin durst not meddle with; but I suppose, when I get to London, the Printers there (at Three Hundred Miles distance) will be no more afraid of Patrick then I am, though now on the Spot with him. I have only to add, that I am

Your very humble Servant, John Dunton.

Remarks on my Sixth Letter.


I Have received yours with the Account of your Packing Penny, and the Con­tinuance of the Scuffle betwixt Patrick and you. I perceive you are a couple of good Game-Cocks, and know no when to give over; its Pity you are not both in England, the Gown-men that frequent Westminster-Hall, [Page 73] would find a way to make a Penny of you, and for any thing I know, might Sell you by Auction too; for I am apt to think you would weary them at last, if Money did not make them Proof against the Fatigue.

I perceive Patricks Malice is very keen, and your Resentments are not without a tollerable Edge, and therefore would advise you to beware of cutting your own Fingers. Be sure to summon up all your Patience, for I perceive you have need on't; don't let Patrick's Injustice provoke you to inde­cencies of Passion, for that may be a snare laid to gain an Advantage against you, either by an Action at Law, or blemi­shing your Reputation.

I approve your Diligence and Ingenuity in promoting the Sale of your Books, but am sorry you have met with such as Buy and don't Pay. I am glad to find howe­ver, that though you had so much unfair dealing from others, you have found the Clergy Just in their Bargains, and that you vindicate your self from having refle­cted upon them in your Advertisement of Iuly 9th. This is a Time, when every Man, that has any value for the Christian Religion, should be very tender in his Re­flections on the Clergy; and indeed ra­ther Conceal their real Faults, than pro­claim them on the House-tops; and much less utter groundless Suspicions▪ against [Page 74] them. You are oblig'd particularly both by Parentage, and the Profession of Reli­gion you make, to be very careful in this Matter; and therefore, I am glad to find you so sensible of your Duty in this Re­spect—The old Barbarous Verse of Pres­byteri nati raro solent esse Beati, is as far from Truth as good Latin: Though those who are Enemies to the Order, may please them­selves with the Reflection, the common Experience of Mankind demonstrates the falshood of it; for if the number of Clergy­mens Children be compar'd with those of others, and their Morals, Religion, and Success in the World, laid in the Ballance with those of the Children of other Ranks of Men, it will appear to have been a meer Forgery of those who were against the Marriage of Priests of Old; and lick'd up and improved by such, who if not pro­fessed, are at least Crafty under-hand Ene­mies to the Christian Religion.

I wish from my Heart that all Clergy­men themselves took more Care to obvi­ate this Reflection, by a careful looking after their own Practise, and their Chil­drens Education; and then the Injustice of it would be more apparent. And I am sorry to find, that tho the Irish Clergy have been just to their Bargains, that yet any one of 'em should have taken indirect Measures to injure you in your Auctions, but they are earthen Vessels as well as o­thers. [Page 75] Therefore I would advise you not to be sharp in your Resentments upon them. Some of your Books might per­haps be disrelishing to them, but that was their fault. Your design was to serve the Interest of Learning in general, and not to please every Mans humour, which you knew was impossible.

You Vindication of those concern'd in your Auctions from having any share in what you Printed against Campbel, is gene­rous and just—and no less can be said of Mr. Wilde's Advertisement' concerning the design of an Auction of his own, and publickly avowing Patrick's Injustice to you, which makes it so notorious, that I think there is the less need of your Prin­ting much more about it. I am

Your Humble Servant.

The Seventh Letter.

WEll Sir, I'll tell ye News; my Ad­versary Campbel has now sent a Trumpeter (a few equivocating Lines) with a Parley, or rather with Articles of Peace; but I fear his Message is rather to sham off a Debt he owes me, then any Design [Page 76] to be reconcil'd. However, I here send you a Copy of his Letter (for I'll keep the Original) that you may the better Judge of the Proposals he makes—[His Letter is as follows, viz.]

Mr. Dunton,

YE have begun to dun me, though I find you to be in my Debt, and easily able to make it appear; as for any Letters ye have under my Hand, I will not give you one Far­thing to burn it: For I will own what is Iust and Right, though not under my Hand; I have no mind either to Write or Print my self a Lyar, as some Men has done. But I shall be pleased very well to meet you, either before a Magistrate, or any other creditable Citizen; and what is thought Iust, I will perform on my Part; I do not intend to render Railing for Railing, and am sure have rendred you Good for Evil, and shall continue to be Just to every Man; and for your Iustice, your self may boast of it, as much as ye will, but other Men must believe as they find: I shall only adde, Evil to them that Evil thinks.

Pa. Campbel.

My Answer to Campbel's Proposals.

Mr. Campbel,

I Received yours, which is still the se­cond Part to the same Tune; for instead of being Penitent for the great Injuries you did me, you do but Iustifie your self; so that you are the Railer, and not I; nei­ther have I Writ or Printed any thing a­gainst you, but plain Matter of Fact, and drest in softer Terms then you deserve: And as to my being in your Debt, 'tis all Patrick Campbel, I mean a piece of Non­sence; for you are certainly in mine, if Four Pound be more then Forty Shillings. How­ever, I'll meet you if you please before a Magistrate (for I'm so much for strict Iu­stice, I would talk with you there about Hod­der) or where else you please—I shall Name Thursday Night, at seven of the Clock at the Keys in High-street, and shall bring a Friend with me, and I am wil­ling you should do the like; but I tell you before-hand, you must resolve upon a Printed Confession of the Publick Injuries you have done me, or you'll dearly repent, your abusing

Iohn Dunton.


Thus have I sent (what must needs surprize ye) Patricks▪ Proposals about a Peace, with my Answer to him; I shall send you more of his ill Practices by next Post; but at present, your Thoughts up­on the Parley, is what is desired by

Yours to Command, John Dunton.

Remarks on my Seventh Letter.


I Have received yours with the Copy of Mr. Campbel's Letter, proposing a Meeting and Reference.

Sir, This Proposal of Campbel's is cun­ning and Picquant enough, and demon­strates what I always thought, that he is a Crafty Intriguing Man. It carries an Air of Religion and Ingenuity at first view; but by the Railing mixt through­out, and the Reslecting Conclusion, he does not seem ever to have design'd any Meeting with you; for if he had, there's Reason to think he would have propos'd it in fairer Terms, and not have aggrava­ted Matters to incense you, if he had de­sign'd [Page 79] an Amicable Accommodation.

This may partly justifie the sharpness of your Reply, and serving him in his own Coin, by proposing such Terms of Agree­ment as you might reasonably think he would never comply with: For I find no­thing less would serve your turn than Pub­lick Repentance; and he tells you plainly, that he was not willing either [...] to Print or Write himself a Liar. So that it was im­possible to reconcile you. This, if Patrick be conscious of his Guilt, argues an obsti­nacy inconsistent with Christianity. Yet I cannot wholly approve your Conduct, nor Policy in your Reply. Had you ac­cepted of a Meeting without any thing of ripping up Sores, or telling him the Preli­minaries; you might possibly have had ei­ther an opportunity of bringing him to a Sense of his Fault, or of having further Evidence against him; and indeed I see no­thing that can excuse your oversight in this Matter, but that Letter to Mr. Wilde giving an Account of Patricks further ill Practises against you, which you Promise to send me. I am

Your Hearty Friend, &c.

The Eighth Letter.


I Am now to acquaint ye, that Camp­bel's Proposal (about a Treaty of Peace) was all Trick and Delusion; for notwith­standing his seeming desire of Meeting be­fore a Magistrate, or any other creditable Ci­tizen, and my readiness to comply with his Motion herein, yet he never once came to the Keys in High-street, the Place ap­pointed to Meet at, but I was there my self, according to Promise, as Mr. Servant (his own Binder) and several others, can testifie; so that our Dublin Scuffle continues still, and if Campbel remains as obstinate as he is at present, for any thing I can yet see, 'twill be left to our Posterity to Fight it out. And that as I formerly sent you the Senti­ments of the Clergy of Ireland upon this En­counter; so I shall now send you an Ac­count of what the Citizens of Dublin (the daily Spectators of this Scuffle) think of it, and of Campbel's Proposal to me about a Peace, and this can't be better done than by inserting here a Letter directed

To Mr. Richard Wi [...]e at Patt's Cof­fee-House in High-street.

Which Letter was this following, viz. December 16th.


NOw Campbel finds Mr. Dunton's Re­putation above his reach, like himself he would fain put to Reference the Ru­ine he intended; but if Mr. Dunton does not compel him to publick Acknowledge­ment, he will hereafter repent it; for in the first Place, he did not only incense all that he had opportunity against him, but forbid all his Auction, telling that h [...] em­ploy'd Foster and others as Setters, which he would prove by Weir, and in the next Place, he made a Faction against him, be­cause he was an English-man; and he took all Mr. Dunton's Papers to Council and ad­vised on them with Intention to prosecute him at Law, and getting no Incourage­ment, he proceeds this way, which I hope Mr. Dunton, does not take to proceed from—a Prick of—nor from Friendship, but meer­ly for want of—I will say no more, that Gentleman having Iustice to vindicate himself, as well as Sense to know Campbel, whose best [Page 82] word was, You were all Rogues; I shall say no more, but assure you that I have been a good Customer, and have given all Incou­ragement to you, and am Mr. Dunton's and your real Friend.


THough you see by this Letter (dire­cted to Mr. Wilde) what Opini­on the Citizens of Dublin have of the Treat­ment I have from Campbel, and of his Pro­posal of his being Friends with me; yet seeing Peace is a desirable Thing (if to be had upon Honourable Terms) I desire your Sentiments upon this Letter to Mr. Wilde; and how you'd advise me to Act in this Critical Iuncture; your speedy An­swer will greatly oblige,

Your very Humble Servant, John Dunton.

Remarks on my Eighth Letter.


I Have received (by the last Post) the further Account you promised me of Pa­trick's ill Practises, his deceitful Dealing with you about a Peace, and the Letter to Mr. Wilde, giving the Sentiments of the [Page 83] Citizens of Dublin upon this Scuffle: I must say, the Writer of this Letter is much your Friend, and if you be sure of the cre­dibility of the Informer; I see no Reason why you should not Publish it, but you ought to be exactly careful in enquiring, whether the Writer of it can be relied up­on; and if you be satisfied in that, Pub­lish it with all the Corroborating Evi­dence you can, for there's nothing can be more effectual to prove the Justice of your Cause, and the Baseness of your Adversa­ry.

I am the rather indeed inclin'd to be­lieve it, because it corresponds with the Preceding Part of your own Information, and is confirm'd by his declining to meet you according to appointment; for Truth is always bold, and never seeks Corners; as it is evident Patrick has done all along. I adde no more, but referring you to the Direction of the Almighty, who knows the Justice of your Cause, I am


The Ninth Letter.


I formerly told you of Patrick's sending a Trumpeter, with Proposals of Peace, and how he serv'd me on that Account, you [Page 84] have also had the Sentiments of the Citizens of Dublin, with respect to my Scuffle with him, and his seeming willingness to make an end on't; but tho' I met at the Place ap­pointed, he never appear'd (as I former­ly sent you Word) yet he has the impu­dence to give out that I refuse to meet him, which I no sooner heard of, but I sent the following Letters, the one directed

To Mr. Thomas Servant a Binder in Gol­den-Lane, And the other directed,

To Mr. Patrick Campbel, at the Bible in Skinner-Row.

My Letter to Mr. Servant, was in these Words, viz.

Honest Thomas,

I writ the following Letter, with a de­sign to send it to Patrick Campbel, just as I was going to limbark; but hearing he reports I refused to meet him, (which he durst not do, but that he thinks I am Ship'd off) I desire that you would read the following [...]ines, that you may see his Baseness, for your self, was present where he refus'd to meet [Page 85] me, and can testifie to what I write. As soon as you have read my Letter, deliver it with your own Hand; for if Patrick should still fly me, 'tis design'd as [...] Farewel to him. You know Sir, (though you are his chief Binder, and would favour his cause as much as possible) that I offer'd to make you the sole Iudge of the Debt he owes me; but for the Slander, and taking the Room over my Head, it was a publick Injury; and (tho' I forgive it my self,) the World expects a publick Acknowledgment of the Injuries he has done to

Your hearty Friend and Servant, John Dunton.

My Farewel Letter to Patrick Camp­bel.

Mr. Campbel,

THo' I have one foot in the Boat, in or­der' to Embark for England, yet I here send a Messenger to tell you, I'll wait an hour (to shake Hands with you) if you'll confess the Wrongs you did, or there were any hopes of your Penitence: And isn't it strange, that Patrick Campbel, who is so Religious, as to say Grace over a dish of Coffee, should have no Qualms after [Page 86] slandering his Neighbour, or refusing to pay his debts? I say debts, for I sent your Account fairly stated (and prov'd you owe me a round Sum) without receiv­ing your Answer to it. Then with what Face, (but you suppos'd I was Ship'd off) could you tell Bently, I was your Debter, and refus'd to meet you before a Magistrate, or at the Keys in High-street, where I waited for you above an Hour? But tho' you durst not appear then, I'm now waiting in the Boat for you, in hopes you'll appear at last, and to engage you to it, (if you'll ask Pardon) I'll even here receive you with open Arms. 'Tis true, you have given great Provocation, and had I not been ten­der of you, I had long since sent you the Length of my Sword, or as you're beneath my Notice, some Porter to have broke your Pate. Sir, put on your Sword, (if it be not in trouble) and let me see your Face; for your private slandering is very sordid, and I am sure deserves to be soundly drubb'd [...]; for by backbiting of me you still sneak your Head out of the Collar, and I am hurt by I don't know who. 'Tis true, 'twas Pal­mer's Saying, the Martyr, That no Man ought to be counted Valiant, but such as con­temn Injuries: I confess, I am not so hum­ble as this comes to, yet I forgive Patrick with all my Heart; but Sir, I think it my duty to Print the Scuffle you engag'd me in; for you justifie your barbarous Treat­ment, [Page 87] so that to forget and forgive you too, will but encourage, you to abuse others, or perhaps my self again, for such tender­ness: For save a—from the Gallows, and he'll cut your Throat. But for all this, I'll burn the Scuffle, if you'll come hither, and shake hands, and tell the World (when I am gone) that you did abuse me, but are sor­ry for it. 'Tis reported of St. K [...]therine, That she sucked the invenom'd Wounds of a Fellow who had impudently wrong'd her: I don't pretend to such flights as these; but if you'll come to the Boat (and remember 'tis the last Offer) and own your Errors, I'll be more your Friend than ever I was your Enemy: And though Pickance (the Master of the Diamond) waits for his Ships Crow, yet if you'll do me Justice, I'll return to Dublin a second time, to drink your Health, (in the first place) and another to honest Gun, Servant, Bently, and the rest of our Learned Brethren; and by coming thus to Confession, you'll cease being a Trouble to your Friends, and a scandal to your self: But if you will not repent, as a wounded Roman said upon a set Challenge, the Scuffle must appear, and shall be followed (if you dare answer it) with the History of your Life, from the hour the Parson Christen'd you, to (mark you me that) the very hour you Christen­ed your self; and pray remember that one blot many times stains a whole Generation: [Page 88] But my Scuffle is just, and without your publick Repentance, I resolve to Publish it; for truly, St. Patrick, I have a great­er Regard to my Honour than my Life: And tho' my Arms should fail me to fight, (they are the words of this Noble Roman) yet my Heart still encourages me to dye in Vindication of a good Name.

And so Patrick, Farewel; for you don't appear, and our Ship is under Sail; but if you repent at last, (and I'll press you to it in the Dublin Scuffle) I hope we shall meet in Heaven, but scarce in Ireland, whilst you are afraid of,

Iohn Dunton.


ABout three hours after I had sent the aforegoing Message to Honest Tho­mas, and my farewel Letter to Patrick, he sends me (by Order from Campbel) the fol­lowing Letter.


I was with Mr. Campbel last Night, and told him (as you desired) that you would meet him when, and where he pleas­ed, &c. His Answer was, That he was ready to meet you at any time or place, and that if you bring one Citizen with you, he will bring another; therefore, [Page 89] if you please, you may let [...] know your Mind, as to Time, Place, and Person; and if this will any way contribute toward your Peace and Friendship, it will be very sa­tisfactory to

Your Humble Servant, Tho. Servant.

I no sooner receiv'd this Letter from Mr. Servant, but I sent Mr. Robinson to him with the following Answer,

Mr. Servant,

SInce my writing a Note to you, and my farewel Letter to Campbel, I re­ceiv'd yours, intimating Mr. Campbel will now meet me; I am glad to hear it with all my Heart, and I do again resolve to meet him at the Keys in High-street, at five in the Af [...]noon; (tho' he disappointed me once [...] very Place) and will only bring one Citizen with me, for that's enough with a good Cause; but as for Patrick, if he will, he may bring forty, or if he pleases, the whole City.

Sir, could you have thought that Camp­bel wou'd now have bantred me a second time, but so it was, (for having a bad Cause, he durst not appear, as Mr. Fisher, the Earl of Meath's Chaplain, and Mr. [Page 90] ton the King' [...] Stationer) can testifie. However, I thought it proper, (whilst on the Spot) to send him the following Note, viz.

Mr. Campbel,

I Am now at the Keys, and you send word you will not come, though I came hither by your own appointment, and this is the second time you had notice I was willing to Treat with you. Sir, I have given you liberty of bringing forty men, or a whole City, against my self, and but one more, and he too of your own Trade; but I have other business to do, than to wait long for an Enemy that dares not face me. However, I have several to Witness, I came to meet you (as you desired) this Night, and you refuse coming, so that now I shall put my Debt into a Lawyer's. Hands, and for your other Treatment, the World shall know it; for I'll dance [...] more after ye, but will wait here [...] Hour longer to prove my Charge; [...] give you Time to match Mr. Thornton. I am

Your abused Friend, John Dunton.


YOur Thoughts upon this New Parley, Mr. Servants Mediation, my Farewel [Page 91] Letter to Campbel; and his refusing to meet this second Time (though 'twas an Appointment of his own making) is ear­nestly desired by

Your Humble Servant, John Dunton.

Remarks on my Ninth Letter.


I Have received yours, with the Account of a New Parley offered by Patrick, Mr. Servant's Mediation, your Farewel Letter to him, and of his disappointing you again, though the Appointment was of his own making. I must needs tell you, that were you as much surfeited with the Scuffle, as I am with hearing of it, you would have given over long e're now. I don't think it worth your while to buy Patrick's Con­fession at so dear a Rate, as to take so much Pains for it. If he were truly sensible of his fault, you need not dun him to Repen­tance, and how great soever his Hypoeri­sie may be in other Instances, I don't find he has a mind to play the Hypocrite in this, that is, so much as to feign a Repentance.

You have, I think, over-done it, in solli­citing him so much; nor do I think his [Page 92] Publick Confession, considering how you have Characteriz'd him, would be much for your Advantage. To be commended or slander'd by a false Tongue, is much the same thing, for they that know a Liar will be­lieve him in neither. You have done well however to follow Peace as much as you could, and it was Prudent to have so many Witnesses of your having kept your Ap­pointment, and made such fair Proff [...]rs of Reconciliation; but I perceive Patrick's Resentments are become down-right Ran­cor, and that the sore is so much Fester'd, that there's no hopes of Cure. Take care that you your self don't learn to be froward, by conversing with the froward. Be sure to keep a calm and ev'n Temper within your own Breast, that you have not raging Waves to deal with, within as well as without, when you Cross the Main. You have sufficiently prov'd him to be an ill Man, and his declining to meet you, and to offer what he could say in his own De­fence, seems to be a Tacit acknowledgment of the Guilt—Nay, I may say a direct pro­claiming it on the House-Tops, seeing he durst not refer the Trial of his Debt to his own Friend—and refus'd to come to a hearing, though so often and so publickly invited to it. All I have more to adde is, that you have come off Conquerour, have choak'd Patrick with one Lie upon the back of another, and that if he were not [Page 93] Case-hardened, he must needs have had qualms of Conscience before now, but those I am afraid are reserved to another time, and for his greater Punishment. In the mean time, let me again advise you, to make a discrect use of your Victory, don't discover your own Weakness in tri­umphing over a Conquered Enemy, and publish no Minute-Circumstances, but such only as tend to Vindicate your own Re­putation; which may be reduc'd to a nar­row Compass, and the shorter the better. I am,


The Tenth Letter.


YOU had in my last an Account of the Pains Mr. Servant took to recon­cile Patrick and I, I also sent ye my Far­wel-letter to Campbel occasioned by his False report that I durst not meet him. I next told ye of a Second Parley I had with him, and his Reason for not coming to the Keys in High-street, tho 'twas a place of his own appointment. I likewise sent you a Letter Mr. Wild received; wherein, as I formerly gave you the Sentiments of some Clergy-Men upon my Scuffle with Pa­trick; so you there saw the Opinion of [Page 94] the Citizens of Dublin upon this Encoun­ter; having proceeded thus far in the Hi­story of the Dublin Wrangle, This Letter is, to conclude the Scuffle so far as I was concern'd with Patrick. But the Dublin-Scuffle did not end here, for I had no soon­er silenc't the Scotch Loon, but I was At­tackt by other Enemies (perhaps some that were set on by Patrick; for being foil'd himself, he was willing still to be gnashing his Teeth) who these new Enemies were, you shall know in my next Letter, and when you have answered that, I'll send ye a Copy of my Last-Farewel to my Friends in Dublin, that stood by me in ev'ry Skirmish, and in this (as I formerly promis'd) I shall Point at my worst Enemies; I mean those that snarl'd at the second Spira, have been very zealous to cut my Throat (for Pri­vate slandering is of that Nature) or which is worse, have Bought what they won't pay for: And with this Farewel (to both Friends and Enemies) I design to conclude my Scuf­fle; and you'll say 'tis Time, for Patrick is now Sick on't, and calls out for help; I mean having done me what Mischief he can him­self, he is now setting the Lawyers a Scuf­fling too, and next Term Iohn Dunton and Patrick Campbel are to be the Grand Scuffle (in the four Courts) amongst the Lawyers. But Sir, I as little fear his Law, as he minds the Gospel; and to convince ye of this, I no sooner heard that Patrick had a Warrant [Page 95] for me, and was resolv'd to turn our Paper-War into a Law-suit, but I sent to his Prin­ter the following Letter,

['Twas directed thus, viz.]

To Mr. Brent Printer in Skinner-Row.


IF you find Patrick Campbel has a mind still to continue our Scuffle by going to Law, Print the following-Advertisement in my next Catalogue; but if he's sensible of the Damage he did me, you may (if you please) commit it [...] Flames, but as for the Printed Scuffle he has forc't me to, it can be supprest on no other Terms, but his owning in Print the Publick Inju­ry he did me, and if he'l own this in the Flying Post, I'll be as forward to forgive him, as [...]e was to do me all the mischief he could; but a Publick Injury must have a Publick Re­pentance—I have only to adde, that I am

Your Friend and Servant. John Dunton.

The Advertisement I desir'd the Prin­ter to Publish, was this following, viz.

WHereas a Report was spread about Town, as if Patrick Campbel had a design to expose himself by prosecuting of me, for Publishing several Papers, shew­ing the Injuries done me by his taking my Auction-Room over my Head, &c.—This is to give Notice (to condescend to the Words of Dick the Coffee-man) that the same seems False and Malicious; for I no sooner heard that Patrick had a mind to continue Scuffling, but I [...] my self to his Printer (Mr. Brent) to desire him to tell Patrick that if he had any thing to say to me, I was come to his House on purpose to An­swer him; but Campbel never appear'd, but sent Word he knew my Lodgings, and would send to me when he thought conve­nient; so that I believe he has a better [...] mach to Print Cocker and Whalely, then to run the hazard of two. Indictments; and besides that, an Action of five Hundred Pound Damage for defaming my self and Auction, and another Action for the Mo­nies he yet owes me,

John Dunton.

[Page 97] SIR,

I Sent the forgoing Letter and Advertisement to Mr. Brent, by my Friend Mr. George Larkin, who was present with me when I sent Mr. Camp­bel Word, I was then at Mr. Powels, ready to obey his Warrant (for hearing he had a War­rant, I was zealous to have it Executed) and to make good my Charge against him; but Camp­bel durst not appear; but notwithstanding that, and the frequent Overtures I made of meeting him at other Places (as Mr. Servant and others are able to testifie) he tells Dick (as thinking I was now Embark'd) that at the Arrival of next Post, he intended to Write against me; hearing by Chance of this, I sent him (though under Sail) the following Letter.

Mr. Campbel,

I Am told you receiv'd my Farewel Letter, in­viting you to give me a Meeting to the last Minute I staid in Ireland; but you never appear'd, and I not going at the Time I expected, to shew I had no Malice against Dick, I went to bid him Farewel; and he generously tells me, That at the Arrival of the next Post, (that is, when I am gone, and you think I shan't hear your Abuses) you Design to Write against me, not consider­ing that all the Town will fling Dirt in your Eyes, (to use the Words of a Gentleman who heard of it) for slandering an Innocent Person, who when he was present, you durst not look in the Face. Sir, If you abuse me in this sneaking man­ner, [Page 98] though your Clandestine way of Scribbling shews the badness of your Cause, and what lit­tle Regard will be given to it: Yet for all that, least my Silence should make you wise in your own Conceit; I will take Solomons Counsel, and An­swer you according to your Folly, and that before I Publish the Scuffle you have engag'd me in. Sir, In the Dublin Scuffle, if I am treated in this Cow­ardly Manner, shall be Printed a Key to explain what is meant by Cocker, Cumpstey, and the darker Passages: To which shall be added, a true Copy, (which I have by me) of what the Book­sellers of Dublin Charge you with: And if you have Courage to Answer this, you may expect a Rejoynder, including the Ludicrous Passages of your whole Life: (For I have Materials enough for that Purpose) neither is the Account you sent in Answer to the Debt you owe me, less false or ridiculous than your other Actions; for you make your self Debtor but for three Turn­ers, when I can produce a Letter under your Hand, declaring you owe for seven; does my great Civility (ungrateful Man as you are) of taking two of them back again, discharge you of the other two?

Thus have I fairly told you what I will do, and what the World will say, if you belie me after I am gone: And have as fairly answer'd the Account you sent me: Wherein my Lawyer shall prove (since you durst not meet me whilst I was here) that you are still about Forty Shillings in my Debt. When your Cowardly Reflections appear, I have order'd this to be Printed; but have yet to tell you, That I can still forgive you (when I see you Penitent.) And so farewel, tho I am

Your Abused Friend, John Dunton.

[Page 99] SIR,

CAmpbel was no sooner inform'd, that I was certainly gone for England, but he had the Impudence (according to what he told Dick) to Print the following Advertisement, notwithstand­ing my sending the foregoing Letter, and his con­stant refusing to meet me—

The Advertisement Campbel Printed; as soon as I left Ireland, was this following, viz.

MR. Ioh Dunton having Publish'd seve­ral scurrrilous Lybels against me thes 2 Moneth past; I hav [...] taken no notic [...] of them, till last Week I sent both by Writ and a Friend, that I was ready and willing to meet him, either before a Magistrat, or any honest Gent. or creditabel Citizen; and if after a fair hearing of both Parties, it should apear that I did him wrong, I wold submit: And if it apear, that I hav [...] not wronged him, it must necessarily follow, that he hes don me mach wrong: First; in averring that I took the Auction-Room over his Hend, which I affirm to be a fals impudent Lie: And nixt, in set­ting upe in his long Lybel in the Cofee-Hoase, that I owe him several Pounds, whereas it shall easily apear, that he is in my Debt. The de­sired Meeting he refused, and I declare my self readie to give said Meeting upon the Terms a­bav; that is, either before a Magistrat, or any creditabel Gentleman or Citizen; but I do not think the Crew that Mr. Dunton ordinarily Converses with, sit to bring any such into their Company.

Patrick Campbel.

[Page 100] SIR,

BY this Advertisement (Publish'd after I left Ireland) you may observe Three Things. First, Patrick's Noble Education, how finely he Writes and Spells, for I have not alter'd a Letter from the Copy my Friend sent me.

Secondly, His great Cowardice, in not daring to Publish this till I left Dublin.

And Thirdly, His great Honesty in handing privately to the World a Paper, fill'd with no­thing but Lies (as I have prov'd already, so need not do it again) but as base as he was in Printing such notorious Lies, when I was n't or the Spot to disprove 'em, yet I must own to his Honour (for he has not a Vertue, but I blaze it abroad with greater Pleasure then I do his Vices) that he did not Publish 'em openly, but only caused three of 'em to be Printed off, to shew to some particular Friends, or perhaps (as my Friend observes) to his Beautiful Wife, to con­vince her she had Married a Wit.

Thus Sir, having sent you the remaining Part of the Scuffle 'tween Patrick and I (and all I shall send ye about Camp [...]el) your Thoughts as formerly are desired by

Your Obliged Friend and Servant, John Dunton.

Remarks on my Tenth Letter.


I Am Sorry that you are still haunted with Ser­pents in Ireland, where the World hath al­ways thought there were none. It seems Pa­trick [Page 101] is a Man of Interest as well as Intrigue, when you are no sooner rid of one of his familiar Spirits, but you are straight ways attack'd by another; Patrick has gnash'd his Teeth, as you word it, so long, that I wonder his Grinders are not worn to the stumps by this Time. You tell me you design speedily to conclude your Scuffle, which is very well, but I am sure it had been much better you had never begun it, or at least that you had giv'n it over sooner. You say, that he now threatens you with the Law, which if he do, you are like to be a good Booty to the Gentlemen of the Long Robe, and I dare say, they will not turn you out for Wranglers so long as the Cash holds; and therefore I hope Patrick and you will be both better advis'd. I do be­lieve it is only a Copy of his Countenance, for he will be as unwilling to be Expos'd before the Bench, as to come to the Stool of Repentance, and in that Sense I doubt not but its true, that you fear his Law as little as he Minds the Gospel. It's unhappy for Patrick, that he fell upon such an Adversary, as is ready to Answer him at all Wea­pons. I must needs commend your Courage, though perhaps it had been more Prudent, and some will say more Chirstian too, if you had rather put up the Wrong, for there's a great deal of Truth in that North-Countrey saying, That its the second Blow makes the Fray. However your own Conscience is the best Judge of your Circumstances, and to that I leave you, as to this Matter; but thus far I think I may venture to say, that it is no ill Policy in you to make Pa­trick sensible of the Advantages you have against him, that way too; if he have a mind to change the Scene. It was both Generous and Christian to offer a personal Conference, and to stand the Test of his Warrant with which he threatned you [Page 103] and his declining it, is an Argument of his be­ing highly defective in both Respects.

Your Letter to him from on Board, I think (all things considered) was needful enough, and I perceive your Pen was nothing blunted, not­withstanding you had wrote so much; your Threats are terrible, like those of an Almanzor, and I per­ceive you had a mind to convince Patrick of the Truth of what you have formerly asserted, that you Wear your Pen as others do their Sword; all that I can say to you further on the Matter, is this, That seeing you are engaged, be sure ei­ther to give over, or else let your Thrusts be [...]ome, and your Blows keen; for Boxing and Caning is Porters way of Fighting, and I would not have Booksellers do any thing that may forseit their Right to the Title of Gentlemen.

Thus have I sent Remarks upon Patricks pre­tended Warrant, your Answer to it, and the Letter you sent him whilst under Sail, I shall next adde (for I now Answer two of your Let­ters together) that I perceive by yours on the Road, that you have left a Correspondent behind you in Dublin to observe Patricks Motions; by the Account you give me of his Printing, and not Publishing his Advertisement, I perceive your Letter from on Board, had some, though not all the desir'd Effect upon him. His Printing after you were gone, is a clear Proof of his Cowardice, his uttering such manifest Untruths, is the like of his Falshood, and his forbearing to Publish them seems to argue his being Conscious of his own Guilt. Whatever Proof it might be to con­vince his Beautiful Wife she had Married a Wit, it could be none that she had Married either a Wife or an Honest Man. As to your Remark on his Education, that might have been spar'd, perhaps, it was none of his Fault that it was not better, [Page 102] and therefore he ought not to be upbraided with it, except it proceeded from his own neg­lect. His Malice is indeed very remarkable, in designing to Publish such a false Libel against you, and particularly in reflecting upon those you ordinarily Convers'd with, for it appears plain enough by what I have heard from you be­fore, that you had the Honour to Converse with those that were far above Patricks Merit, as being some of the greatest Note in Church and State, but any Excuse is better than none. I am glad how­ever, that your Scuffle with Patrick is ended at last, both for your sake and my own, for to be plain with you I have enough of it, and I am sure, whether you think so or not, you have too much. I am


The Eleventh Letter.


I Told ye in my last from Chester, I had done Scuffling with Patrick Campbel; but sure e­nough I am still fighting with Beasts at Ephesus: For no sooner was my Scuffle with Patrick a lit­tle over, but I was surrounded on every side.

First, F—(a meager sort of an Animal) threatens a Token (in English a Warrant) to fright me to a Compliance with unreasonable Rates for Binding; but F—saw he was in the Wrong-Box, and found it his Interest to be Friends with me.

I was no sooner deliver'd from this Imperti­nence, but a Young Stripling summons me before the Lord Mayor of Dublin; he could not but think [Page 104] he was too rash, and therefore had no stomach to argue before a Magistrate; So honest Servant (a true Lover of Peace) gets us both to the Bull in Nicholas-street, where the Lad saw his Error, and we parted Friends; and I'le say that for TOM‘That tho' he is a little hasty, yet he's a very honest Fellow, was very faithful in the Post I set him, and (writing an Extraordinary hand) tis fit for a good place, which he can't miss of in Dublin, for he might be trusted with untold Gold.’

But I must leave Nelson to speak of the Brass in Copper-Alley, who is another Beast I am yet to fight with; This Fellow serves me with a Token (I told ye the English of it before) and be­fore the Lord Mayor I must go, I was more ready to go then he was to have me, for there need­ed nothing to plead for me, but the bare state­ing my Case; when his Lordship heard my De­fence, he did me the Honour to say (Mr. Wilde being then present) that I had made my Adversary a very just Proposal—My Proposal was, that one of his own Trade, and one con­cerned in the same Agreement, should end the Controversie; so that all that Brass got by his Token was to be hiss'd at by Honest Men, and to be thought (if it could be) a little more Impudent then heretofore; Sir, you'll find his Picture in the following Letters; but more at large (excepts he Repents) in my Summer-Ramble

I next encountr'd a Female Devil (a Woman, a thing in Petticoats) her Contrivance was to C—d her. Husband; and to tempt me to this Wickedness, she sends me a Billet Doux, (a Co­py of which you shall have hereafter) and calls her self Dorinda, had her Billet taken Effect, her Smiles had been more fatal than Patricks Frowns; but God preserv'd me in this Temptation.

[Page 105] I was no sooner deliver'd from this Syren, but a Grave Ancient Don [...] claim to a Quarto Manuscript that I purchas'd of Mr. Daniel, but this Scuffle was very short, for I no sooner Dis­coursed him, but he honestly owns before Mr. A—(a giddy, talking, bauling Fellow) my just right to the Copy, and so we parted (Friends) over a Dish of Coffee.

There were other Beasts I contended with, as the M—of H—the K—of, and the D—of, but I pass 'em by, 'till I hear how they carry themselves.

Thus Sir, have I given ye a further Account of my Dublin Enemies, and the Scuffles I had with 'em; in my next expect a Copy of my last Farewel to Ireland, and with that Farewel I'll conclude Scuffling in this Countrey—In the mean time I desire your Thoughts on these New Encounters, by which you'll further oblige,

Your Humble Servant, John Dunton.

Remarks on my Eleventh Letter.


I Was in hopes that when your Scuffle with Pa­trick was over, you should have had no Bo­dy else to Scuffle with, but either your own Shadow or Don Quixots Wind-mill, but it seems your Adversaries are of Hydra's breed; no soon­er is one Head cut off, but two spring up in its stead. Had Richard Strong [...]ow met with such obstinate and unwearied Opposition from the Irish, for any thing I know Ireland had remain'd [Page 106] unconquer'd to this Day. I perceive however, that Patrick was t [...] Giant with the hundred Hands, and having foil'd him, it was scarcely worth your while to draw upon the rest, the Grumbling of a Mastiff is enough to quell snarl­ing Curs at any Time; if he do but turn his Head, they will be sure to turn their Tail, and so I perceive it far'd with your other little Ad­versaries, and therefore they deserve no further Regard neither from you nor me. Nor were they worth your mentioning, but that you had thereby an opportunity of my Lord Mayor of Dublin's approving the fairness of your Proceed­ings, and perhaps Patrick foresaw the like as to the Controversie betwixt you and him, and therefore he would never appear with you before a Magistrate.

I had almost forgot the dangerous Assault made upon you by the Syren, which to a Man of a Knight-Errant-like-Temper, is the hardest thing in the World to resist; and therefore, I never admir'd the Heroes so much for spurning up Oaks with their Feet, and blowing down Ca­stles with their Breath, as for resisting the At­tacks of the Phyllis's and Dorinda's. Its well you're Married, else such a Character as this might perhaps give the Fair Sex a bad Impressi­on of you as a hard hearted Man, the Conse­quences of which would be, that you were not likely to find theirs very soft. But you are out of the Power of such a Temptation, and there­fore there's now no danger on that Head; o [...] if there were, you have a Golden Shower at com­mand, which would Conquer a Danae her self; though you had no personal Merit. Thus Sir, I leave you to Glory in your Conquest, and Dorin­da to fret at her Disappointment; when I see her Billet Doux, I shall be more able to Judge, [Page 107] whether she were a formidable Enemy or not. But don't Publish your Conquest all at a Time, lest your Name be made use of in future Ages to frighten peevish Bantlings into a better Humour, for its too too much for one Man thus to Tri­umph over the Irish Men, Women, and Children all at once. I am


The Twelfth Letter.


I Sent you Word (by the last Post) how Campbel and I parted when I left Ireland, I have also told ye of other Enemies, who con­tinued Scuffling after Patrick had done his worst—I shall now (as I promis'd) send ye a Copy of my—Last Farewel to my Friends in Dublin, that stood by me in every Skirmish, and here (likewise) I shall Point at my worst Enemies; I mean those that have sharl'd at the second Spira, have been very Zealous to cut my Throat (for Private-slandering is of that Nature) or which is worse, have bought what they won't pay for, and with this Farewel (to both Friends and Enemies) I shall conclude the Dublin Scuffle. I don't doubt, but in this Farewel, I shall say something that will vex the Guilty, yet I find it necessary for my Reputation, and (Sir, you'll find) I fear nothing in Defence of that: 'Tis true I can't fight my way in Tropes and Figures; but Truth needs no Varnish (it shines brightest in its Native Dress) and therefore in this Retreat (which is the most difficult Part of War) I face all my Enemies at once; and, if I cou'd not spell [Page 108] my Name, I'd venture at 'em; for I'd rather be thought a poor Scribe then a Coward, as you'll find by the following Lines; which I call

MY Last Farewel To my Acquaintance in DUBLIN Whether Friends, or Enemies.

[And is as follows, viz.]


HAving now Sold the Venture of Books I brought into this Countrey (maugre all the Opposition I met with from Patrick Camp­bel and other Enemies) and being to Embark an Hour hence for England, I send this as my Last Farewel to my Acquaintance in Ireland (whether Friends or Enemies) and with this shall con­clude the Dublin Scuffle.


I Told you in my First Letter, That I had brought into this Kingdom, A General Col­lection of the most Valuable Books, Printed in En­gland, since the Fire in London in 66. to this very time; to which, I told you, was added,—Great [Page 109] Variety of Scarce Books.—A Collection of Pam­phlets, in all Volumns:—And a Parcel of Manu­scripts, never yet in Print; and that I have made good my word, is acknowledged, by all that have seen my Catalogues, and Printed Bills of eve­days Sale, for near Six Months. Neither can it be thought that the Gentlemen of Ireland, who are own'd to be very ingenious, would give one Thousand Five Hundred Pound for a Parcel of TRASH (as my Venture was call'd by some selfish People, of which more anon) except—Bibles—Common-Prayer Books—Pools Annotations—Clarks Bible—Hammond on the New Testament—Book of Martyrs the best Edition—Duty of Mans Works—Dupins Ecclesiastical History—Josephus the best—Rawleighs History of the World—Heylins Cosmography in Folio—Euse­bius the best Edition—Bakers Chronicle—Stan­leys Lives—Cambdens Brittania—Terryls Hi­story—Lock of Humane Vnderstanding—L'Estranges Aesop—Seneca's Morals—Cam­bridge Concordance—The Great Historical Dicti­onary—Greoads Dictionary—Littletons Dictio­nary—Gouldmans Dictionary—Coles Dictio­nary—Screvelius Lexicon—Speeds Maps—Mordens Geography—The Irish Statutes—Cook upon Littleton—Wingates Abridgment—Ben Johnsons Works—Shakespears Works—Beau­mont and Fletchers Works—Cowleys Works—Oldhams Works—Drydens Works—Congreves Works—Westleys Life of Christ—Prince Ar­thur—Iudge Hales Works—Mr. Boils Works—And the Works of Archbishop Usher Archbishop Til­lotson—Bishop Taylor—Bishop Patrick—Bishop Sprat—Bishop Barlow—Bishop Fowler—Bishop Wilkins—Bishop Stillingfleet—Bishop Burnet—Bishop Kidder—Dr. Barrow—Dr. Sherlock—Dr. Scot—Dr. Horneck—Dr. South— [Page 110] Dr. Wake—Dr. Lucas—Dr. Claget—Mr. Norris—Mr. Edwards—Mr. Doring­ton—Dr. Amesley—Dr. Bates—Dr. M [...] ­ton—Mr. Charnock—Mr. Howe—Mr. Al­sop—Mr. Clarkson—Mr. Williams—Mr. Mead—Mr. Baxter—Mr. Flavel—Mr. Boyce—Mr. Showers—Mr. Rogers—Mr. Calamy—and such like, may be rec­kon'd into that Number—

And Gentlemen, as I have fully answered your Expectations, as to the Goodness and Varie­ty of the Books that I brought over, so I find you are all pleased with the Candour you had in the Sale, you may remember I told you I thought it a sort of Picking your Pocket, (as you came to my Auctions supposing to buy a Pennyworth) to advance the Rate upon you by any under­hand Bidding; and to shew this was not to serve a Turn: I again declare (though I'm leaving Ireland) that for every Penny I got that way I'll restore a Pound. But the Dignity of Truth is lost by much Protessing, so I'll say no more to prove my Innocence, for 'tis what you all believe.

And Gentlemen, as you have been all satisfied with the Part I acted in this Matter; so I hope you have been all pleased with the Genteel Treat­ment, you had from Mr. Wilde throughout the whole Sale—The Truth is, he has shewn a matchless Command over his Passions under very great Provocations, and therefore 'tis (my De­sign in these Adventures being to please the Buy­er and my Self too) that I have engaged him in a second Auction I design for Scotland, and were I to make a Third as far as Rome (as who knows but I may, for I design to see his Holi­ness) Mr. Richard Wilde should be the sole Ma­nager, not only as his Vniversal Knowledge in Books renders him fit for it, but as I have found [Page 111] his Condour and Diligence to be as great as his Knowledge—And Gentlemen, as Mr. Wilde has treated you with the greatest Respect imagina­ble, so I hope he has done you as much Justice as he has me, in the whole Management.

And I hope you have been as much pleased with my Book-keeper Mr. Price, as to his great Fidelity in prizing what you bought, as I have been with his accounting with me for all the Money [...] receiv'd; or if you can prove any Mi­stake (for no Man's Infallible) I shall be for­ward to have it recti [...]ed, though ne're so much to my Loss—

And as Mr. Wilde, Mr. Price, and my Self, have labour'd to give you Content, so I hope so much as Honest Rohinson—Trushy James—and my very Porter Bacon (who brought the Bill of every Days Sale to your Doors) have not been wan­ting in their respective Place. In a word, I sup­pose you are all Content, for we all endeavoured to make you so, but for all my Care in these Par­ticulars, I find I have some Enemies; but (Gen­tlemen) my Comfort isAs I told you in my second Let­ter. that I have no Enemy that's acquain­ted with me, or has Bought a Book in my Three Auctions; 'twas said of a Bookseller lately Dead, that he had no E­nemies but those that kn [...]w him; but I Thank God, if I have any Friends, they are chiefly those that have dealt with me. But I find 'tis impossible to please all, for though Mr. Wilde and my Self managed the whole Affair (from the first Mi­nute I proposed it to him, to the last Book he Sold in Dublin) with that Sincerity, as we thought had left no room for Exception; not so much as a Penny was [...]aid in the Auction (if any doubt arose from whom 'twas received) but I gave it the Poor, for fear I had received more than [Page 112] my Due. But for all this scrupulous Care, there was a certain Person beyond the Herring-Pond, and in Dublin too (for they Ecchoed to one a­nother) that whisper'd about, that I had brought you nothing but a Parcel of TRASH. And that the Auctioneer was a Grand Sharper. Gentlemen, 'tis a pitiful Cowardice (as I told Campbel) that strikes a Man in the Dark, but I suppose you know who I mean by the Littleness of his Soul, for all such Books that he has not a Hand in, he calls not fit to wipe his B—ch, and a Copy from Heaven would be a foolish Paper with him, if T. F. were not the Bookseller.—strange how far Ignorance, Self-Interest and Pride will carry Men, especially Men that rise from nothing, or come of Mechanick Parents—'Tis true, I could take a singular Pleasure in forgive­ing this sneaking Fellow, there is such a noble-Pride attends this generous Conquest of an Ene­my, as far surpasses the celebrated sweetness of Revenge. And this made Judge Hales say, He thanked God, he had learnt to forget Injuries; and I wish I could say the same (for I hate to gratifie my Passion the common Way (and because T. F. has acted the Part of a mean Spirit, I must do so or worse by giving Scope to my Rage) but though I had rather suffer a thousand wrongs then offer one, yet for all that, when a Man persists in a base Practice, he ought to be jerk'd in hopes of a Reformation, and T. F. the most of any I know in London; for how often has he call'd—The Heads of Agreement (Assented to by the United Ministers)—The Morning Ex­ [...]rcises (Published by my Reverend Father in Law, Dr. Annesley)—The French Book of Mar­ty [...]s (Publisht by Order of Queen Mary, and was the only Book she ever gave Her Royal Hand to)—Mal [...]ranches search after Truth, [Page 113] (so much commended by the Learned Mr. Norris, in his Advice to his Children.—Mr. Coke's Detection of the Court and State of England (of which large work there is Three Editions)—The Works of the Lord Delamere (Publisht by consent of the now Earl of Warrington)—Dr. Burthoggs Essay on Reason, and the Nature of Spirits (Dedicated to Mr. Lock.)—The Ti­gurine Liturgy (Publisht by the Approbation of six Learned Prelates)—Bp. Barlows Re­mains (Publisht from his Lordships Original Pa­pers) by Sir Peter Pet, Kt. Advocate General for the Kingdom of Ireland.—Mr. Baxter's Life, in Folio (written with his own hand)—The Life of that Charitable Divine Mr. Thomas Brand.—The Life and Death of Mr. Iohn Elliot, the First Preach [...] of the Gospel to the Indians in America (of which there is three Edi­tions)—The Bloody Assizes, Containing the Tryals and Dying Speeches of those that Dyed in the West (of which there is four Editions)—Sermons on the whole Parable of Dives and Lazarus, by Ioseph Stevens, Late Lecturer of C [...]pplegate and Lothbury Churches—The Tragedies of Sin, by Mr. Iay, Rector of Chinner.—Mr. Williams Gospel Truth (of which there is three Editions.)—Mackenzye's Narrative of the Seige of Derry.—Mr. Boyses Answer to Bishop King (First Printed in Dublin, and then in London)—Mr. Show­ers Mourners Companion.—Mr. Rogers Practi­cal Discourses—The Poems writ by the Pindarlek Lady—And the Athenian Gazzet (which has been continued to 20 Volumns, and is so much Valued in Dublin, that the Sale of that Book alone has come to an Hundred Pound)

Gentlemen, I shou'd prove Tedious, or I would inlarge, for these ben't the Fifth Part of those Valuable Pieces I Print; and to which, to [Page 114] shew his parts (or rather [...]is Envy) he gives the Title of—Meer, Stuff, Perfect Trash: Sweet Rhetorick! (Gentlemen) which, with something will keep Cold, has made his Conscience as black as his Sign.

I was likewise Treated in this manner, by another Critick, near Hatton-Garden, who tho' he struts like a Turky-Cock at a Red Pettycoat, wipes his mouth in London, and is very sawcy to every Book that he don't Print himself; yet his Sin has found him out in Dublin; and 'tis very remarka­ble, that I my self should first discover it, whom he has most abus'd of any man in London; but he's quiet enough at present, and if he Repents, I can forgive; but if he stir hand or foot against this small Revenge, the World shall know (as Proud as he is) who has abus'd [...]he name of a late Peer, by a Notorious Sham-Title.Gentlemen, such, and only such as these, are my Enemies, and this is the Undermining Treatment I have had from 'em.

But tho' there be Little Souls in the World that have great Dealings; yet, I find, the Gen­tlemen of Ireland, have more Honour then to [...]e-lye their Senses, or to call that Stuff or Trash, which they find to be Solid Dyet—I am sure, in proportion to the Great Number of Books I have Printed, no Man has Printed less Trash then my self: I am sure, T. F. has not, if you take in his Black Lists, his false Titlcs, his Printing other Mens Copies, and new Vamping of Old Books—But Gentlemen, 'Tis losing of Time to speak in praise of my Bookish Venture (or to talk more of my Enemies Trash) Seeing aAs is hint [...]l in the Acct. of my Conver­sation, in Ireland. Worthy Member of the House of Commons, did me the Honour to say, That I had been ( [...]by this Undertaking) a Great Bene­factor to this Country; and no longer than yesterday, a Clergy-Man told [Page 115] Mr. Penny (an English Gentleman) That I had done more Service to Learning, by my Three Aucti­ons, than any one single Man that had come into Ireland these hundred years.I speak not this out of Ostentation, but to rectify the [...] opi­nions, who judge Men by what they hear from the Scandalous Tongues of their selfish prejudic'd Ene­mies: But, tho' Boasting is none of my Talent, yet I must say, That my Venture has been serviceable to this Countrey, is not only the Sentiment of one or two, but of all I meet with; and therefore 'tis I am desired, by some of the best Quality, To make an Annual Auction of Books in Dublin; but my Ramble to Scotland will hinder this; or if it don't, I'll still promise, You shall have no Setter in my Auctions, and as Good Books as now.—Not that I pret [...]d to be more Infallible than other People; and of Six Hundred Books, I have Printed (as I said in my second Letter) it wou'd be strange if all should be alike Good: But tho' in my Vnthinking Age, I have Printed something I wish I had never seen (though of 600, I know but of six I am angry at) yet where I have err'd, 'tis from Heaven, and not from Man, that I heartily ask Forgivness: I confess 'twas a Noble Saying of the Great Mountaigne, after he had finish'd his Rambles, That w [...]re [...]e to live over his Life again, he would Live exactly as he [...]ad done: I neither, says he, complain of the past, nor do I fear the future. I can't say so, for tho I am but turn'd of my 30th year, and have always devoted my Time and Rambles to the knowledge of Countries, Books, and Men; yet were I to correct the Errata's of my short Life, I would quite after the Press—Wou'd Time [...] my Age again to the first thread, What another man wou'd I be? but as wil­ling as I am to confess this, yet where I have Er­red with Respect to Printing, I must cast the fault into [Page 116] the great heap of Humane Error; for seeing we digress in all the ways of our Lives, yea, seeing the Life of man is nothing else but digression, I may the better be excused, and the rather, as I am truly griev'd when any good Man is displeas'd; not that I ever Printed a Book in my whole Life, but what I had a just end in the Publication. But if others won't think so, I can't help it; not but I must own, That hav­ing Printed a great many Books (and not read­ing through the twentieth part of what I Print) some Errors have 'scap'd my hand; but this is my Misfortune, and not my Crime; and ill success ruines the merit of a good meaning; however the way to Amendment is never out of date.—Repentance is a Plank, we (Book-Merchants) have still left, on which we may swim to shore; and having Err'd, the Nobles [...] thing we can do, is to own it. He that Repents, is well near Innocent.—Diogenes, seeing a Lad sneaking out of a Bawdy House, bid him Hold up his head, for he need not be asham'd of coming out, but of going in. I could even forgive Patrick Campbel, if I saw him a True Penitent; such a Penitent, as the Thief who robb'd me in Dublin, who begging my Pardon; I scarce suffered him to kneel for it, but as readily gave it, as he was to ask it.

Thus Gentlemen, you see (at our last parting) that tho' I am no more perfect than other Folks, yet that I don't deserve that ill Usage I had fro [...] T. F. in London, or Patrick Campbel in Dublin; and (by the Grace of God) for the future will de­serve it less; for as I grow in years, I alter my opinion of things; when I now Print a Book, I put on my Graver Spectacles, and consult as well with my Iudgment as Interest: When I first be­gan to Print, I had then seen but the out-side of the World and Men, and conceiv'd them ac­cording to their Appearing Glister.

You know, Gentlemen, Youth are Rash and Heed­less, [Page 117] green Heads are very ill Judges of the Pro­ductions of the Mind: The first Glance is apt to deceive and surprize; Novelties have Charms that are very taking, but a little▪ Leisure and Consideration discovers the Imposture; those false Lights are dispell'd upon a serious Review, and second Thoughts are wiser than the first, and this is my very Case. But though I am no more Infallible then other People, yet I have ever had that regard to Iustice, that I never Printed any Mans Copy, or stole his Author by Pri­vate Slanders; and though I have Printed six hundred Books, I never Printed a new Title to an old Book, nor never damn'd any Man's Book, because I must Buy it with rea­dy Money; and I ever thought it as base Inju­stice to run upon another's Project, neither did I ever murther any Mans Name (with saying he Printed this or that) the more cunningly to praise my self, and who ever will prove one single In­stance of this in all the Books I have Printed (a Jolly Company for the small Time I have Tra­ded) I'll own my self of as Poor a Spirit as those are (be they who they will) that Practice what I here condemn—And I as little like under-sel­ling others to get Chapmen. I believe T. F. will own (though a great Offender in this Kind) that I keep my Copies as punctal as a­ny Man; Mr. Wilde knows in all the Notes I made for Dublin, that I put the same Price to every Man, and wou'd any Bookseller be at the Pains to compare all my Notes together (though I exchanged with all the Trade) for every Penny he finds charged more to himself then to other Men, he shall have five Pound Reward, and a Thousand Thanks into the Bargain for rectify­ing a Mistake I never design'd. Then pray Gen­tlemen (for I am now speaking to the Book­sellers [Page 118] of Dublin) no more Reflections (as if I injur'd the Trade by Auctions) for is it not your own Case? There's few Eminent Booksel­lers, but have traded this whole-Sale way▪ is that a Crime in me, which is seen in your daily Practice?—If I have a Fancy to Travel a Year or so, and after that to live a studious and reti­red Life (as I have done several Years) what harm do I do in selling my Stock, and making of Auctions without Setters? For my own Part, I have enough to bear my Charge to the Grave (for thither Gentlemen we are all going) and am contriving now to Live for my Self, as well as for other People—Cowley. I would have business, but exempt from strife—and therefore, 'tis I have done with Shops, the hurry of 'em are apt to ingross our Thoughts, and I'm loth to venture Eternity upon my last Breath; to what Purpose should I covet much?

I really Pity those that (like the Dog in a Wheel) toil to Roast Meat for others Eating. Abraham, see how he beginneth to possess the World! by no Land, Pasture, or Arable Lord­ship, the first Thing is a Grave. The Reverend Mr. Stevens (Author of the Sermons on Dives and Lazarus) gave Order for the making his CoffinI [...]ad it from his ow [...] Mouth. in perfect Health: I desire to follow such Examples as these; and therefore, instead of loosing Time in a Shop, I'd now, in a quiet Retreat from the World, be studying what good I may do to my Friends with what I have, and how little a Time I may Live to enjoy it; being troubled with theThe Stone. Distemper my Father dyed of. I take my last leave (at I now do of Dublin) of every Place I depart from? And that's the Reason I now follow the World with [Page 119] such Indifference, as if 'twas no Matter whether I over-took it or no. But though I'm come from behind the Counter, yet methinks a Man out of Business, like a rotten Tree, only cumbers the Ground, so I won't altogether desert Printing, or that Learned Trade, which my Father so much approv'd of, whilst there's an Author in Lon­don, or a Pen in the World; but (with Sub­mission to better Judgments) I think 'tis a great madness to be laying new Foundations of Life, when I am half way through it.

And they methinks deserve my Pity,
Who for it can indure the Stings,
The Crowd, and Bu [...], and Murmurings,
Of this great Hive, the City—Cowley.

So that being tir'd with Galloping after the World, I'll walk now with a Horse in my Hand, and who ever sees my House (and Green Prospects before and behind it) will own 'tis suited to this Purpose [...] And here Gentlemen, don't let's mistake one a­nother (at Parting) or think I prescribe my Method of Living as a Rule for others to walk by. No! He that takes me for a Guide in this (or in any thing else) may perhaps fall Mat.15. 14. into the ditch, for I must confess that if he alone is a Wise Man, who hath a clear and certain Knowledge of Things; then I am excluded, for I mistake every thing. I feel a Mountain of Ignorance on my Understanding, which I struggle under, but cannot remove. I dwell in the out-side of things; do what I can, Circumstances do always so uneven the Scales, that I cannot Balance things aright; when I weigh the Conditions of Men, (whether Friends, or Ene­mies) if I come near them, I am within a Cir­cle, and am strait-ways as if conjured from giving [Page 120] a true Verdict; these things are best seen at a di­stance, when I have sometimes given a right Sentence, a new Relation, or some other Event, hath stept in, and violently blindfolded me. Again, when I have beheld a worldling as full of Earth as a Worm, one that loads himself with thick Clay, that walks in the Sun-shine daily, and ne­ver enquires who hath lighted him that glorious Candle; as goes rooting as if he were a Mole in Humane Shape, and Cannibal-like devours poor Mens Flesh; when I had clearly seen, I confi­dently affirm'd his Gold to be dross, and himself beauti [...]ied with all his Pomp, to be but a Iade in Trappings; when I had made use of him, as an occasion of admiring Divine Providence for sparing such a monstrous Hog; yea, when I had Out-lawed him, as one altogether unworthy of Protection; yet how hath the tender of some few Courtesies (or a bare pretence to a Reconcil [...] ­ation, as in the Case of Campbel) been ready to make me reverse it, hath not only stopped my Mouth, but muddied my sounder Judgment of him; so that now I have had enough to do to see the fault, through my Friend, my very Iudge­ing Faculty hath been somewhat bribed to spare the Sin, least I should fall too foul upon the sub­ject of it; and how have I found out a weak Brain, a strong Temptation, or something or other to exte­nuate the Offence. Yea, an intent of assaying the World my self, hath disposed me to the pon­dering, yea, almost to the Entertainment of his Principles, and a Resolution of returning again to the hurries of a Shop; and some possibility of arri­ving at his heighth, hath been such a Powder­mine, that I have been well nigh blown up in mine own Trenches; and my Affections have been like a NAVY in a Storm at Sea, hardly kept together. I therefore thought the best [Page 121] Prospecetive to see the World in its genuine and proper State, was a great distance from it. A Man must play the Cunning Astronomer, who when he wou'd gaze a Star, gets not on the Top of a Pyramid, but descends some deep Pit for so the Visual Spirits are kept together, thus a Man should look, as a wise man, just before him. Earthly things are a very Mist; before a Man comes at it, he may see the Dimensions of a Fog, and perhaps look over it, but when once invellopt and clouded within it, his sight is limited to a small extent. Gentlemen, such thoughts as these made me retreat to that Countrey-like Seat where (after Scuffling a while in Dublin) I'm now going to live again; which being still and private, and suited to a studious Life, is (next to my Wife) the only thing on Earth I Love—

Gentlemen, having (largely) shewn you, why I leave the Hurries of Dublin, and given my Reasons for a Private Life when I return home; having also told ye my Thoughts of Shop-keep­ing, and of the several Copies I Printed, per­haps my Enemies will expect here (being faln amongst Books) that I say something of the Se­cond Spira, for though 'tis a Book quite forgot, yet my Innocence is such (with respect to the Printing of it) that I dare bring it again on the Stage; and the rather still, as my Dublin Enemies (and some in London) have snarl'd at it with so much Fury.

As to this Second Spira, which my Enemies so nibble at, perhaps the Publishing of that Relation was one of the most Innocent Actions of my whole Life; Gentlemen to prove this, I'll lead you step by step into this Affair, so far as I was concern'd in't—This Narrative was put into my hands about Decem. 26. 1692. by the Methodizer of it, who assured me, that he received the Memoirs [Page 122] that composed it, from a Divine of the Church of England, and as a Confirmation of this, he deli­vered into my Hands a Letter and Preface, which are Printed in the said Book (both which he said was sent to him by the Divine that visited the Sick Man) wherein the Divine says. That ha­ving examined the Peice now 'tis perfected, with the Original Notes and Papers which he drew himself, he finds the Substance and Material Part very faithfully done; he further adds, I dare affirm, that there's nothing material left out, nor is there any Interpo­lations which are not genuine—And in his Let­ter to the Methodizer, he begins thus, Sir, I had yours with the Manuscript, and having compa­red it with the Memoires I took, I think you have done me, and the Case of that miserable Gentle­man, a Rigid Iustice—My way being made thus plain by these Attestations given me by a Gentleman I had long known to be a Person of Integrity, I procured Mr. Bohuns License to the Book (which I have still by me.) After the Book was Publish'd; several Clergy-men and others inquiring of me the Truth of the Relation, I went with them my self to the Methodizer of it (for so he had order'd me to do, if any one enquir'd about the Truth of it) who gave 'em al [...] (as he owns in his Preface to this Book) the very same account he had given me, and they thereupon did me that Ju­stice as to acquit me of any unfair dealing in the Case, and the same thing has been also done by the Me­thodizer himself in the Third, Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Editions of this Book; so that I need add no more on my own Account, for what can appear fairer? But that no doubt may remain as to my Innocence in this Matter, I further (and solemnly) de­clare in the Presence of God▪ the searcher of all Hearts) that I ne're thought of the Second Spira till 'twas brought to me, and that 'twas all (every [Page 123] Page, Line and Syllable of it) delivered to me as a True Narrative. And 'tis worth Remark (as it shews the Generosity of the London-Booksellers) that but three of 'em quarrel'd with this Book, and the first was that very Person who (as I can prove) offer'd to be Partner in it; and that too, after his going with me to the Methodizer, by which he could know no more of Spira then I did, so that 'tis clear if I have Printed a False Spira (as I hope not) that 'tis no more than an older Man would have done, upon the same Informations which I received.

But to do this Bookseller Justice, there were several Divines (as well as he and I) that be­lieved the Truth of the Second Spira (from the Account the Methodizer gave of it) I could name two that (from the Pulpit) advised their Hear­ers to read it—'Tis true, this Bookseller tells you, he afterwards alter'd his mind (what the Divines did, I can't say) but what of that? This no ways affects me, for he would fain have been concern'd at first (and to tempt me to it, promises a Preface to recommend the Book) and I could see no more into Futurity then he, and therefore I fell a blushing, (for his sake, not for my own) to hear him Rail at the Book—Gentlemen I real­ly thought it Second Spira had wanted a Champion, this had been the very Man, he was so zealous for a share in it; but I rejecting the offers he made, in­stead of being the last [as I might expect] he was the first Publick Enemy it met with.

And the next to him was a Man who leers under his Hat, and may now see his Sin in his Punishment, in those [...]ashes Mr. Mather gives him, in p. 68. But I won't Name the Book or Passage, for [when I remember how abusive he was] I think it revenge enough to forgive him.

A Third Slanderer of Second Spira [and is all [Page 124] I met with amongst Booksellers] was a Gentle­man-Stationer, who had no grudge against me or the Book, yet had the Conscience to send it to—to serve a Turn▪ I would explain my self, (for here we are Bout-Ship, as we shall cry by and by at Sea) but that, He's below himself, that is not above an Injury, or at least the In­gratitude of a little Fellow. I am thus particular in telling the Enemies to Second Spira, and in Defending my Printing of it, that the World may see what a vile thing Slandering is, (especially the Private Slanderer.) The thing is True, but pray say nothing you had it from me, is a Wound can never be Cured,—'Tis Stabbing a Man behind, and is the worst sort of Murther, as it leaves no room for Defence.

And this has been my Fate, for I verily think, were all the Lyes that were told about Second Spira, Printed in one Book, 'twould scarc [...] be Printed in Two Years.—But I am willing now (for I have bore long) to be out of the Slan­derers Debt, and I hope what I here affirm will give Satisfaction to all the World.

For Gentlemen, you see my Innocence as to this Book, and how much I suffered (when formerly rail'd at for Publishing of it) by the malice of some, and ignorance of others; and therefore I thought it proper now to set Spira in a True Light, for I can't run every where to answer Slanderers, es­pecially my Dublin Enemies (for I'm now leav­ing of 'em) and these have treated (both Spira and) me without the least mixture of Candour, tho Archbishop Tillotson tells 'em, in p. 515. in his works, That if there were any need that a Man should be Evil spoken of, it is but fair and equal that his good and bad Qualities should be mentioned together, other­wise he may be strangely misrepres [...]nted, and an inde­ferent Man may be made a Monster.—They (co [...] ­tinues [Page 125] this Great Prelate) that wil [...] observe nothing in a Good Man but his failings and infirmities, may make a shift to ren [...] a very Wise and Good Man (and I never pretended to be either) very Des­picable.—If one should heap together all the Pas­sionate Speeches, all the Froward and Imprudent Acti­ons of the Best Man, all that he had [...]aid or done amiss in his whole Life, and present it all at one view, con­cealing his Wisdom and Vertues, the Man in this disguise, would look like a Mad-Man or a Fury; and yet if his Life were [...]airly Represented, and just in th [...] same manner it was led; and his many and great Vertues set over against his failings and infirmities, he would appear to all the World to be an Admirable and Excellent Person. But (adds this learned Author) How many and great soever any Mans ill Qualities are, it is but just, that with all this heavy load of faults; he should have the due praise of the few real Vertues that are in him.—Herbert says,

He that will but one side hear,
Tho' he judge right, is no good Iusticer.

One would have thought this distich; with the foregoing passage of Archbishop Tillotson, were enough to cure Ce [...]suring, and to have enclin'd the Readers of the Second Spira, to have been more charitable to the Publisher of it, for if I had not One Good Quality to mention with my Bad (as Bi­shop Tillotson advises) yet they were wholly ig­norant of me, and cou'd not tell (did they give me a hearing) but I might clear my Innocence, and having now done it, I expect they receant their old Reslections, and revive that Opinion they had of me before the publishing of this Book.—The Reason why I expect this Generous Treatment (and am thus positive in the Account I give of the Second Spira) is because I write this, as if I made [Page 126] an Affidavit before a Master in Chancery. For Livy▪ the Famous Historian, saith, That he that writes a Lye for Truth, is the greatest of Perjur'd Persons, and his Reason is, because he imposes upon Generati­ons to come; and this makes me yet think that the Second Spira is a true Narrative: For [...]an't there been as strange Concealments (Who'd have thought that Overbury's Murder would have come to light 5 years after 'twas done) and I believe the Methodi­zer, a Man of that Honour & Vertue, that had he the least suspition, that I S, (the Divine which he says gave him the Notes) had impos'd upon him, he'd soon Publish the same to the World, and as a Christian ought, own his Error in being imposed upon.—This is what I believe of the Metho­dizer; and as for my own share, my Innocence is such (as I have here shewn by running through all the steps of the Publication) that if I find Second Spira a Lye (tho' 'twere Ten Year hence) I'd be the first should tell it; and be as zealous for Printing the Methodizers Recantation. But till such Discove­ry is made, I shall still believe it as much the true Spira, as his in Newgate-Street, who to shew the honesty of his little Soul, calls his Book the True Spira, that mine might be thought a False One, or as is the Relation of Francis Spira, whence this Second Spira has its name.—Now Gentlemen, what I have here said of the Second Spira, being what I am able to swear to, upon all the Bibles in the Kings Dominions, and if my Credit appears hi­therto Unspotted and Free, and not stain'd with Base Little and Dishonourable Actions, I hope (to use the words of the Methodizer) I shall have that common Charity in this Affair, which every one would be unwilling to be deny'd, were he in my cir­cumstances; and you can't go to a Binder, Printer, or Stationer, in Dublin, or London either, (for I owe [...]ot one of them a Brass Farthing) but you [Page 127] may have full satisfaction upon this last head. But if after all I have here said, there is any one yet so base, as to reflect upon the Methodizer of the Second Spira, or upon my self, for Printing that Dismal Narrative, I have only to tell 'em, That I as little matter, as I deserve, their unchari­table Censures.Gentlemen, I shall only add, (as to Second Spira) that the Methodizer never saw this Apology for Printing of it; for Truth is ever the same: And having said nothing but what I can prove at large, I thought it a greater proof of my Innocence, to Publish it without his knowledge: Neither could I have consulted him, if I would, for he lives 300 Miles from Dublin; and I do declare, in the Presence of God, Angels and Men, that I writ this Defence of Spira and Farewel Letter, with my own hand, whilst I liv'd with Mr. Caw­ley in that City, and that in the presence of Mr. Larkin, who is now going for England with me, and I hope you'll wish us a Boon Voyage.—And I think Gentlemen, my not consulting with the Methodizer in this matter, is enough of it self, (had I omitted all that I said before) to shew my Innocence as to Second Spira, concerning which, I have said nothing but what I would say, were I now taking my last leave of the World, and the Irish Voyage, on which I am just entring, is near a kin to that long and awful Iourney.—But so much for the Second Spira, of which I Sold about 20000, and when the Gentleman is known, I believe I shall treble the Number.

Thus Gentlemen, having in this Farewel fur­ther accounted for the Dublin Scuffle,—For the Venture I brought to Ireland,—For the Auctions I made in it,—For the Candour you had from me with respect to Setters—For Mr. Wilde's generous management—For my Book-keepers great Fidelity—For my Servants [Page 128] of an Inferiour Station—For the Notes I made with the London Booksellers—For the Hur­ries of Dublin—For my Private Living in Iew­en-street—For my Aversion to Shop-keeping—For the several [...]opies I Printed [and in particular for the Second Spira—And for an Annual Auction in Dublin [which I told ye was propos'd to me] and Gentlemen, I must tell ye, if any thing put me upon it, 'tis my great Desire to bring Patrick to a Sence of his Errour, and the fair Dealing I had from other [...]. And h [...]e I'll take my leave [a while] of the Generous Buyers, to give

A farewel To those that have BOUGHT, what they won't PAY for.

ANd truly Gentlemen (for 'tis of the Non-Pay-masters I'm now taking my leave) if you won't be [...], I'll perswade you to it, and to that Purpose I've agreed in the Lump (for I'm now leaving Ireland, and shall relapse into no more Duns) with an Honest Lawyer (yes a [...] Honest Lawyer) and Two Bailiffs, who will fear nothing in the just Execution of their Office—Gentlemen, could I stay in Dublin, I'd give as much time as you wou'd desire, but I have been long from my Native Countrey, have a House and Servants to look after, and which is more, an [...] daily expected by a Young and Obliging Wife; and Gentlemen, wer't your own Case, a Day unde [...] such a Circumstance would seem an Age. The [...] [Page 129] pray be Honest in a few Days, that even Law­yers and Bayliffs may be kind to ye. I suppose none have been so unjust to Buy what they could not pay for. And pray let me ask you a Sober Questi­on, Is it reasonable I shou'd have Justice? Make my case your own, and you'll say, It is; for my Ven­ture was Bought and Sold at a Great Expence, (and without Setters too) and which is yet heavier upon me, you have bought what others wou'd have honestly paid for; neither do I serve your City of Dublin as you have served me, for of 400 [...] &c. I have Expended in it, with Printers, Sta­tioners, Binders, and the Servants concern'd in my Three Auctions, &c. I have Receipts from all I have dealt with, to a very half penny; or if any Binder (or other Person) have injur'd himself, by forgetting any thing, or by mistakes, in sum­ming up his Bill (though it be but the worth of a Farthing) if he discovers it Ten Years hence, I'll pay it my self, if I am then Living, or in case of my Death, my Heir shall do it, or forfeit my whole Estate.—

And as I have been just to Meum and Tuum in this City, so I was ever as true to anothers Re­putation as to my own: I never struck at any Mans Fame in Dublin (or in any part of the World) till he fell to Murdring mine; even Patrick Camp­bell (tho the most Barbarous Fellow I ever met with) did not hear from me till he took my Room over my head.

And now Gentlemen (I mean you that are still in my Debt) I leave you to think upon these things, whilst I return again to the Generous Buyers: And here Gentlemen, 'Tis my duty to tell you, That as I ill resent the Bad Usage. I have from the Non-pay-masters, so I can never enough acknowledge your Honest Dealing; you have strictly observed the Golden Rule, Of doing [Page 130] as you would be done by, and I doubt not but the Books you have fairly bought, will be a blessing to you and your Children after you.—When some came to my Auction with Naught, Naught, Pro. 20. 24. you never sided with 'em, or bely'd your Conscience to save Six Pence. You never bid, but in some proportion to the worth of a Book: You knew I had no Setters, and therefore acted a Nobler Iustice than to bid as if a Book were stolen.

In a word, You all acted so Honourably, both in your Bidding and Paying for Books (especially the Noble Collonel) as if, Like meer Conquerers o'er Covetousness, and such mean beggarly Vices, you had a mind to shame the other Buyers into Gratitude, for the Charge I was at to serve 'em. Gentlemen, by this Treatment, I have been able to see, how much of Heaven can live upon Earth; and surely Men of such Just Principles, as I found you of, need but dye to be in that Blessed Place. Men of so great a Soul, seem only lent to the City of Dublin, as a universal Pattern for others to imitate.

Gentlemen, If in my next Ramble, I meet with such Men as you, Men so refin'd from all mixture of our grosser Elements, Men so spiritu­ali [...]ed before their time, I shall Ramble to Scot­land to good purpose, and despise the Proverb of a Rolling-stone.

I wou'd here (this being My Last Farewel) descend to particular Characters of some of the chief Encouragers of My Three Auctions.

And here I should first acknowledge, my Great Obligations to the Right Reverend the Bishop of Clogher (who was mention'd before, in p. 50.) this Learned Prelate, was a Generous Encourag­er of my Undertaking; He is a Person of Great Worth, Knowledge and Humility, and by his [...]ard Study and Travels, hath to so great a degree im­proved [Page 131] his own Extraordinary Parts, that soon after the Thirtieth Year of his Age (which is the year of Quallification for that Office) he was made Provost of Trinity College in Dublin, a place of great Honour and Trust; where he so well acquitted himself, that in a little time he was Constituted Bishop of Clogher, and soon after that, for his great Accomplishments, was made One of His Majesties Privy Councellors for the Kingdom of Ireland. I might mention his great knowlege of the Tongues and most Sciences, but the bare relating the Publick Stations he is in, are sufficient demonstrations of the Reasons of his de­serv'd Promotions, and of the great Honour he did me by personally encouraging my undertaking, and therefore I hope his Lordship will pardon me for presuming to mention him in this Fare­well; for I shou'd think my self very ungrateful, should I leave Ireland without making this pub­lick acknowledgement of the Favours I receiv'd from him. His Lordships Name is St. George Ashe.

I should likewise in this Farewel, take my leave of the Reverend Mr. Iohn Iones, the most Emi­nent School-master in all Ireland; he hath sent many Scholars to the University of Dublin, and I don't wonder he's so Accomplish'd; for he's a man of so great a Soul, that I found he was seldom out-bid in my Auction for any Book he had a mind to. He's a very Studious Person, and does not (like some Authors) lose his time by being busie about nothing; nor make so poor a use of the World, as to Hug and Embrace it: I shall ever acknowledge the Generous Encourage­ment he gave my Auctions. In the short Conferen [...]e I had with him, I found him to be a Person of great Piety, and of a most sweet Disposition; He is free from Vice, if ever any Man was, [Page 132] because he hath no occasion to use it, and is above those Ends that make men wicked. In a word, Mr. Iones is a Person of great Worth, Learning, and Humility; Lives Universally be­lov'd, and: his Conversation is coveted by all that have the happiness to know him.

But I take leave of the Reverend Mr. Iones, that I may next shed a few Tears on the Grave of the most ingenious Mr. Davis; for tho' he is dead and gone, the service he did my Au­ction shall live as long as I can Write or Read, he was Famous for a School-master, and so E­minent for Preaching, that his death was lament­ed by all that knew him; and I may truly say of him, Vixit post Funera Virtus—I had not the happiness of once hearing this Extraor­dinary Preacher, and I can't say I ever saw him; but I am told (by one that knew him well) that if I have err'd in his Character, 'tis that I have said too little—But tho' I can't do justice to his Personal Merits (being wholly a stranger to him) yet Mr. Wild tells me, he was a true Friend to my Undertaking, and therefore at leaving Dublin, I ought to strew some Flowers on his Herse, and thank his very Ashes for the kindness he did his unknown Admirer.

Leaving this Good Man asleep in his Grave, I shall next take leave of the Reverend and tru­ly Pious Dr. Iohn Stearn, Minister of St. Nicho­las-Church; He is a most Excellent Preacher, and as good a Liver; This worthy Divine was my Friend, not only in buying diverse Books for his own use, but also in buying for others, and so far was he from that ungenerous Tem­per (not to call it worse) of depriving me of Reasonable Rates, that he would assure the Bidders such and such Books were good, and a Pen­nyworth at such and such Rates, as he inform'd [Page 133] them of; neither was his Generous-Bidding for Books, all the Favour I receiv'd from him: I wou'd go on with this Gentlemans Character, but that he's too humble to hear it mentioned, be­sides 'tis very improper to tire my Friends at a parting Visit. I shall therefore here take leave of this Reverend Doctor, and next step to the College, where I have so many Farewels to make, that I don't know where to begin, nor where to end; for I should here pay my ac­knowledgments to the Reverend Dr. Loyd, Dr. Ha [...], Mr. Gilbert, Mr. Bawldwin, Mr. Young, &c. These and several other Fellows of the College of Dublin, did as their occasions serv'd, gene­rously Encourage my Auction, as did divers others of inferiour Rank in the College, to whom I here give my Parting thanks.

I might, had I time, take my leave of many more Worthy Clergy-men that were Encoura­gers of my Auction, such as the Reverend Dean Trench, Dean Sing, Arch-Deacon Handcock, Dr. Bolton, Mr. Marsh, Mr. Hemsworth, Mr. Burridge, Mr. Lucas, Mr. Aspin, Mr. Moul [...]ns, Mr. Drury Mr. Vivian.

And here I would in a particular manner take my leave of Dean Francis; for I wanted (till now) an opportunity to thank him for the Encouragement he gave my Auctions: He makes an eminent Figure in the Church of Ire­land, and is too Great for me to attempt his Cha­racter, but if any man does not know him, let him go every Sunday morning to St. Michaels in High-street, Acts. 24. 25. where hee'l hear, as Mr. Larkin and I did upon that Text, And Foelix Trembled; as much clear Reason Scripture, and Divinity, as ever was yet deliver­ed in a Pulpit. And those that go to this Church in the afternoon, will find the same entertain­ment [Page 134] by my Learned Friend the Reverend Mr. Searl, the present Lecturer. But to proceed to the Character of Dean Francis: His Piety is as Remarkable as his Preaching, and his Charity as remarkable as either. Mr. Feltham says, A good Tongue never wanted Ears to hear it; for my own share, I must say, that morning Mr. Lar­kin and I heard the Dean, he preach'd in so refin'd a manner, that I could ha' heard him with pleasure till night, and my Friend (as I found by the Remarks he made on the Sermon) could gladly have heard him as long as I. I wou'd enlarge in the Dean's Character, but that he was a Generous Buyer, and (as the case stands) I think it proper to say little of the great Benefactors; so I shall leave the Dean (with humble thanks for the Favours he did me) to pay a Visit and Farewel to my true Friend, and great Benefactor, the Reverend Mr. Searl; he was a frequent Buyer at my Auction, which I did not forget to acknowledge both at my Au­ction, and afterwards at the Curragh, where (in my Ramble to Kilkenney) I had the good Luck to meet him, I had now and then the hap­piness of spending a few agreeable minutes in this Gentlemans Company, which I thought no ordinary Blessing, as he was a Person of a tru­ly Humble and Affable carriage—As to his Preaching, 'tis Plain, Pure, and Edifying, and generally without-book: The last Sermon I heard in Ireland, was Preach'd by the Reverend Mr. Searle, upon these Words,Luke 2. [...]1. For unto you is born this day in the City of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord, and I thought it the most Practical and awakening Discourse I ever heard in my Life. He succeed­ed Mr. Davis (whose death I mention'd before) and is no ways inferiour to him, either for good [Page 135] Preaching or vertuous Living. In a word, I have such an Idea of the Piety and Moderation of this eminent Divine, that I could dwell on his Character for ever; but (I must remember) Pickanc [...] is ready to Sail, and I have other Vi­sits to make, and so Worthy Sir, Adieu.

For I am now going to take my leave of the Reverend Mr. Rowe, a Country Minister, a Pi­ous Humble Man, and great Encourager of my Book-Adventure. I ha'nt the happiness to be known to this Generous Buy [...]r so I'll take my leave with this short acknowledgment—

And my next Farewel shall be to the Reverend Mr. Fisher (Chaplain to the Right Honourable the Earl of Meath) this Gentleman was a great Encourager of my Auction, by which means I had the happiness of enjoying his Company of­ten; we were together that very time when Pa­trick Campbel refus'd to meet me at the Keys in High street. The Satisfaction I receiv'd in Mr. Fishers company, obliges me to attempt his Cha­racter. He is all that's delightful in Conversation, so easy company, and so far from all constraint, that 'tis a real pleasure to talk with him; he's a Person of a sweet natural Temper, one that's never out of Humour, and I must say, I found his Friendship to be ever equal and the same—In a word, 'tis a Vertue to know him, and a glimpse of Heaven to hear him Preach: But dear Sir Adieu, for the wind is Fair, and I must be gone; but I leave your Company with as much regret as ever I did any Earthly Blessing.

Having taken my leave of the Clergy, my next Visits must be to the Layety; and these must be very short, for fear the Ship should Sail before I finish my Letter.

And here I shall first take my leave of the Honourable Colonel Butler, a Member of Par­liament, [Page 136] He is a great Lover of Books, and was a constant and generous Encourager of all my Auctions. His Affability, Candour, and extraordinary Sense; but more especially his ingenuity in Painting to the Life, is beyond what I ever saw (in my whole Life) but at his House, and in his Person. 'Tis to this Honourable Gentleman I Dedicate my Dublin Scuffle, where (and in my Visit to him) you have his Character more at large, so with a short Farewel to the Noble Colonel,

I shall next pass on to own my great Obli­gations to Mr. LumGradon Esq Councellor Reading, and diverse other Members of the Ho­nourable House of Commons, who were great En­couragers of my Undertaking, and in this Fare­wel I return 'em my Humble thanks.

Neither can I in this place forget the many Favours I received from that Worthy Gentle­man, Christopher Vsher Esq. (a Relation of that Famous Prelate Arch Bishop Vsher) He's a Person of True Piety, solid Judgment, and Great Estate, and God has given him a Heart to do good with it in his Life Time, for he is very Eminent for his Great Charity, and a Vast Encourager of Learning; he laid out several Pounds at my Auction, and almost daily honoured me with his Presence at my Sale. I could write a Folio in this Gentlemans Praise, but he's as Humble as he's Rich; so I sha'nt inlarge, lest I offend his Modesty: But this hint is enough to shew how wor­thy he is of that Great Name he bears; and therefore however he may resent this Publick Farewel (considering his Great Humility) yet I could not think of leaving Ireland without pay­ing my thanks to him, not only as he was my Friend, but one of my Chief Benefactors.

[Page 137] I shou'd also (before I Embarke) pay my Ac­knowledgements to Sir Henry Tichbourn, Robert Stopford Es [...]abque; Captain Acghmooty, Mr. Recor­der of Dublin (an Eminent Counsellor) Stephen Ludlow Esq one of the Six Clerks, to Mr. Iustice Coot of the Kings Bench, a Person of great Pie­ty, Lives universally Belov'd, and justly merits the Honour he enjoys: He was pleased to cause several Books to be bought for him at my Sale. And here I cannot omit to add to the rest of my Benefactors (in this Farewel) Mr. Baron Ecling, a Person of Great Honour, and of a Greatness of Soul beyond most that I ever heard of: He is such an Vniversal Lover of Books, that very few, if any, shall escape him, whatever they cost: He has a very Large and Curious Library, yet as inquisitive still after Rarities, as if he had none: He is a most Noble Encourager of the Book-selling-Trade, and whenever he dyes, the Stationers of England and Ireland will have a great loss, besides what the Publick will sustain thereby.

I fear if I write on, I shall lose my Passage, but Gentlemen, you see by my unwillingness to leave Ireland, how I resent your Generous Treatment. But shou'd, I t [...]ke my leave of all my Friends of the Laiety, that were kind to me and my Auction, I should swell this Farewel beyond bounds. How­ever, tho I Scribble till the Ship is gone, I won't forget, at parting, to give my thanks to my True and Generous Friend Mr. Robert Jey: He was one of those that gave me a Farewel Treat in Essex Street, and was my True Friend from first to last, and the chief Person I advis'd with in Dub­lin, under any Difficulty: He is a real lover of Learni [...], as appear'd by what he bought at my Auction, Extreamly Civil and Obliging in his Conversation; and a Man of that Great In­tegrity (and of such quick dispatch in Business) that [Page 138] had I a Thousand Causes, they should all be in­trusted in his hands. I wou'd inlarge in his Cha­racter▪ but that I shall meet him again in the Account I design to give of my Conversation in Ireland.

I have also many Thanks to return to Captain Simon Annion, Mr. Rath. Iones, Mr. Sholdham, Mr. Cuppage, Mr. Iohn Smith, Mr. Moss, Mr. Williamson, Mr. George Osborn, Mr. Bonny, Mr. Samuel Martin, and diverse other Eminent Ator­nies, who were great Encouragers of my Under­taking.

Neither can I think of leaving Dublin, before I have taken my leave of my Three Printers, Mr. Brent, Mr. Powel, and Mr. Brocas, for they come into the number of my Benefactors; and I'm told, bought several Books in my Auction; besides to forget these, would be a little unkind, not only as they served me (once) at a Pinch, but as they Printed my daily Catalogues: and 'twas only by their Presses, that I could now and then Thunder at Patrick Campbel, and defy all my Enemies; so that, at shaking hands, sheer Grati­tude obliges me to give each of these Printers a particular Character.

And I shall first begin with Mr. Brent, who, I think, is the Oldest Partner, He's a Scrupulou [...] Honest, Conscientious Man, and I do think, a True Nathaniel, he's perfect Innocence, yet a Man of Letters; he knows no harm, and therefore contrives none: And by his frequent attempts to make Campbel and I Friends, 'tis clear, he ne­ver promoted the Dublin-Scuffle, tho the Print­ing of it would have furnish'd him with daily work; so that he's what we may truly call a Religious Printer, (and I was going to say) he hates Vice, almost as-much by Nature as Grace; and this I think is his True Character.

[Page 139] As to Mr. Pow [...]l (the second Partner) His Person is Handsom (I don't know whether he knows it or no) and his mind has as many Charms: He's the very Life and Spirit of the Company where he comes, and 'tis impossible to be sad if he sets upon it: He's a Man of a great deal of Wit and Sense (and I hope of as much Hone [...]y) and his Repartees are so Quaint, Apposite and Genteel, 'tis a pleasure to observe how handsomly be acquits himself; in the mean time, he's neither Scurri­lous nor Prophane, but a Good Man, and a Good Printer, as well as a good Companion.

I come next to Honest Brocas, the third Part­ner, and with him (if he's return'd from Hol­land) take leave of my Three Printers.

Mr. Brocas is much of a Gentleman, he gave me a Noble Welcome to Dublin, and never grew less Obliging: He's one that loves his Friend as his Life (nay, he values Mr. Wild beyond it) and I may say, without offence to the Printers of Dublin, that no Man in the Universe, better un­derstands the Noble Art and Mystery of Printing, than Iohn Brocas in Skinner Row; and as a three­fold Cord is not easily broken, so Mr. Brent, Mr. Mr. Powel, Mr. Brocas, 'tis my Advice tee yee all (at parting) that you never divide your Inte­rests: For what would you have? Your House is a meer Paradice: Oh Spatious Dwelling!

A Garden in a Paradise, wou'd be
But a too mean Periphrasis of thee.

And Gentlemen, as your House is Airy, Great and Noble (and the Top Printing-House in all Dublin) so if you keep together, Copies so Croud in (from Patrick Campbel, &c.) you'll soon be Aldermen of Dublin, and in time arrive to the Honour of Lord Mayor; and what a charming [Page 140] Figure will the Beautiful Powel make, when at­tended with Sword and Mace, Surrounded with Aldermen, Bedeckt with Jewels, and Glitte­ring with a Gold Chain.—

But I don't know when to ha' done, I see, so Gentlemen Printers, farewel tee yee all Three; but when I come to Dublin with another Cargo of Books, 'twill be in Company with Mr. Larkin, and then expect my Custom again, and to find us both at the Dolphin.

And this (tho' he's going with me) brings me in the last place, to own my Great Obligations to my Most Ingenious Friend, Mr. George Larkin, whose Noble Treatment at his own house, and Great Readiness to Serve me at all hours, and up­on all occasions, from the first minute I saw Dublin, to the last hour I staid in it, shall be kindly acknow­ledged to my dying day.—But I can't in­large, for Mr. Larkin is come to tell me, the Ship is going to Sail, which makes me Tremble, for tho' I've crost the Ocean often, yet I still dread the Irish Sea; but my comfort is, Mr. Larkin (like a true Friend) still ventures his Life with me, and I can never dye in better Com­pany.

Thus have I paid my thanks where I think it due, and given a Farewel to all my Friends, and as I took my Leave, have Characterized my Benefactors, concerning whom, I have said nothing but the real Truth; and Gentlemen, I have often wisht, there were no such thing as a Complement in the World, and therefore I flatter no Man in these Characters; I have no occasion to do it (for my Auction's ended, and I'm leaving Ireland) besides I was not born to creep, neither is it agreeable to my Temper of mind; but a Man may be grate­ful sure, without being of a mean Spirit.

[Page 141] But perhaps my Enemies will say, I'm thus large in Praising my Friends, that my Scuffle may Sell the better. I do declare, this is all as false, as what they said about Second Spira, &c. for I don't write this Farewel, or the Dublin-Scuffle, to get a Penny, my Circumstances set me above it (the Athenians long since told you, my Raven was gon to Roost) neither do I publish it out of Vain Glory, to be talked of when I'm gone; for as Cowley says, I'd Live unthought of, and unheard of Dye: and my aversion to Shops (and Private Dwelling in Iewin-street) proves I'm of this hu­mour; but I Publish it purely to do justice to my self (in the first place) and then to my Dublin Enemies; and (lastly) that the World may see How Generous my Friends were; and who knows, but my Enemies, by seeing other Mens Vertue, (and how charming it makes 'em look) may en­deavour to practice it; but whether they do or no, I must declare the Honest Dealings I had from 'em, is that alone which has put me i'th' head of a Second Auction, so that as soon as I get to London, I shall fall to Printing several Copies in order to Furnish out a New Venture, with which I shall march directly for Scotland, and when I return from thence, having clear'd with all the World (for as to my As is hint­ed in the A [...] ­cou [...] of my Conversation. Morals I am, or should be an Honest Man) I'le Embark for France, Italy, &c. but more of this in—My Summer Ramble, or History of my Travels through Ten Kingdoms, &c. (of which I have seen four) Scotland, France and Italy make it seven; and when I ha' crost the Hellespont (where poor Leander was drown'd) Greece, Chi­na and the Holy Land, are the other three I am bound too, and perhaps (when my hand's in) I may step thence to the Indies; for I'm a true [Page 142] Lover of Travels, and when I am once mounted, care not whether I meet the Sun at his Rising or going down, provided only I may but Ramble: But as much as I love Travelling, I love pleasing my Wife better, and were I now entered the City of Rome (as far as 'tis, and as much as I de­sire to see it) her least Impatience to see me, should hurry me back before I had seen any thing; or if shee's so obliging as to let me grati­fie my Curiosity, Ten Months will be the long­est time I can live from her, and having seen the foresaid places in that time, I'le return to the Raven in Iewin-street; for tho' 'tis good to Travel abroad, 'tis best to dye in the Arms of a kind Wife: But Shops are of small Account (as I formerly hinted) and I hope to get more by Travelling abroad, then by staying at home. Then if Valeria consents (for without that I'll not stir an inch) I'll soon be on this Grand Ram­ble; and when I Return, for I go for Profit, a [...] well as Pleasure, (I mean for subject matter to write on) will fall to Printing as much as ever.

Gentlemen, This Long Ramble will be Ten Vo­lumns, of a Crown each; the first of which, will be Publisht in few weeks, and will contain my Am [...]rican Travels.—The Second, My Trip to the Low Countreys.—The Third, My Ramble to Ireland, wherein you'll find the History of my Sea-Voyage, the Conversation on the Road, at the Inns and Towns I staid at, with particular Cha­racters of Men and Women, and almost every thing I saw or conversed with, but more especially in the City of Dublin, where Two Hun­dred See more of this, in the Ac­count of my Conversation. Persons will see their Pictures, that at present, little ex­pect it. The Non-Paymasters too, shall have a share in the History; neither will I forget the Extortion of Copper-Alley, [Page 143] nor my Geud Friend at the Bible in Skinner-Row.

This Ramble (through Ten Kingdoms) will contain about a Thousand Letters, which I'll write in my Travels, and send 'em to my Friends in England; I shall intermix 'em with Characters of Men and Women, &c. (according to the method in my Ramble to Ireland) and hope I shall re­ceive Remarks upon what I see by those to whom I direct my Letters, and I desire they'll treat me with the same freedom as my Correspondent does in the Dublin-Scuffle.

Gentlemen, This Rambling Project owes its Rise to something I found in the Athenian Mer­cury, which being an Invention of my own that has pleased the Age (for 'twas continued to Twenty Volumns) I hope the same by this, for 'twill be as Pleasant a Maggot, and I'll endeavour to make it as Useful.—

Gentlemen, If you ask me, How I can think of Rambling thus, having lately Marryed a Second Wife? To this I answer, I am Marryed indeed,—but 'tis to One (to use the words of my first Wife) Who knows it her Prudence and Duty, to study my humour, in every thing (I mean every thing that en't sinful) and finding I am for Travelling (to shew the height of her Love) is as willing I should see Europe, as Eliza was I should see America; so that, you see Gentlemen, neither my First, nor my Second Wife, have been She-Clogs, See Aus [...]i [...]'s Confessions. as St. Austin call'd his Spouse; they were both pleased as it pleases me, with my Rambling Hu­mour, then to be sure (this Temper is so Obliging) as soon as my Eye is satisfyed with seeing, I'll hasten home to the Dear Valeria, Run to meet her with Devouring Arms; and then Live, and (if possible) [Page 122] dye together—'Tis true, the Man in the Gospel had married a Wife, and he cou'd not leave her, but he was not born to Ramble, or he must have pursu'd his Destiny: Sure I am, if any thing cou'd keep me at home, 'tis a Tender Wife, such a one as I NOW enjoy; for there is such an Union between us, that we seem but as Two Souls Transform'd into One; and I must say, Were her mighty Tenderness known to the World, it wou'd once more bring into Fashion Women's Loving and Trusting their Husbands. But tho' Love is strong as Death, and ev'ry good Man loves his Wife as himself, yet I cann't think of being confin'd in a Narrower Study than the whole World. He is Truly a Scholar who is vers'd in the Volume of the Universe, who doth not so much Read of Nature, as Study Nature her Self. Who'd ha' thought I cou'd ever have left Eliza? For there was an even Thread of En­dearment run through all we Said or Did: I may tru­ly say, For the Fifteen years we lived together, there never passed an Angry Look: But (as Kind as she was) I cou'd not think of growing Old in the Consines of one City, and therefore in Eighty Six I Embark'd for America, Holland, and other Parts: But tho' we parted a while, 'twas by Free Consent of FATHER and WIFE, as my Coming now to Ireland, was by Consent of Mother and Daughter: I found then that the Arms of Love were long enough to reach from London to the West-Indies; and to encourage me to Ramble now, they are as long as ever: What tho Scot­land, France and Italy, &c. part our Bodies, yet we have Souls to be sure, and whilst they can meet and caress, we may enjoy each other, were we the length of the Map a sunder: So, that you see, Gentlemen, tho' I have Marryed a Second Wife, yet that I Love her never the less for [Page 145] Rambling, but (were't possible) a great deal more, for Distance endears Love, and Absence makes it thrive.

If a Wife don't give me some proof of her Love (for Fine Words are but painted Babies to play with) how shall I know she loves me at all? And can she give me a greater Test, then by tell­ing of me, in a Thousand Endearing Letters, That to be out of her sight, is to be still the more in her mind? When I was in New-England, I sent Eliza, Sixty Letters by one Ship, as you'll find in my Ramble thither.

Were Valeria and I always together, these (sort of) Endearments were wholly lost, and we to seek (for want of a Touch-stone) whether we Lov'd in earnest. So that I think to Ramble, is the best way to endear a Wife, and to try her Love, if she has any, which is so rare a thing (since Women have marry'd for Money) that for my own share, I'd Ramble as far as Chin [...], to be convinc'd of the least Scruple. 'Tis true, for a Wife to say, as Eliza did, My Dear, I Rejoyce I am able to serve thee, and as long as I have it, 'tis all thine (and we had been still happy, had we lost all, but one another) this indeed is very Obliging, and shews she loves me in earnest; but still there is something in Rambling beyond this; for this is no more (if her Husband he Sober) then Richer for Poorer, obliges her to; but for a Spouse to cry, Travel as far as you please, and stay as long as you will, for Absence shall ne [...]er divide us; is a high­er flight abundantly, as it shews she can part with her very Husband (Ten times Dearer to a Good Wife than her Money) when it tends to his Sa­tisfaction.—Since to Ramble then from my Second Wife, is the best way to express my Love, and Endears like any thing; I say, considering this, I'll soon be on my Scotch Ramble; and if I [Page 146] Return Rich in Valeria's opinion, tho St. Andrew Frown as much as St. Patrick, I shall think I make a Good Voyage on't.

Thus Gentlemen, have I fairly prov'd, That Ab­sence Endears a Wife, if she's good for any thing, and that Rambling becomes a Duty to him that's well Marryed: A Duty? Ay! Sure enough! For Valeria and I improve our Separation to better use than if we had been together; for by Absence, we better fill, and farther extend the possession of our Lives, in being parted; She Lives, Rejoyces and Sees for me, and I for her, as plainly (for we are still but two Souls in the same Body) as if I had my self been there—And I must say that of Eliza too, We did not pre­tend Affection, and carry on two Interests; Her sympathy with me in all the Distresses of my Life (both at Sea and Land) make her Vertues shine with the greater Lustre, a [...] Stars in the darkest Night; and assure the World, she lov'd me, not my Fortunes; like the Glow-worm (that Emblem of True Friendship) She shin'd to me, even in the Dark: She has been almost ready to wish us Unfortunate, that she might give me the great­er Test of her Love. My Head, no sooner ak'd, but her Heart felt it; and had I faln Sick (in her Dying Hour) She'd e'en then have crawl'd up stairs to have s [...]en me; and to requite her Love (for a kind Wife makes a kind Husband) I'd have parted with Garment after Garment; stript my self to my very Skin; yea, Mortgaged my very Flesh, to have served her.—And indeed all our Distresses of Body and Mind, were so equally divided, that all hers were mine, and all mine were hers; we remembred we were One Flesh, and therefore were no more offended with the Words, Failings or Wants, of each other, than we would have been, had they been our own; had we Lov'd at a less Rate, our Pretences to Love had been [Page 147] meer Banter: True Conjugal Love, is a step above House or Land! Neither durst I ha' marry'd, had I lov'd Eliza less than my Self. But as True and Great as our Endearments were, I found I cou'd love as well Absent as Present; and therefore I as little scrupl'd the Leaving Eliza, as I now do the Kind Valeria.

Gentlemen, I had not troubled you with such soft Tender Things, but to let you see my Rambling Now, (as well as Formerly) is the Effect of Choice and not Disgust. If you doubt this, Read the CharacterPrinted for J. Harris at the Har­row in Lit­tle Britain of my First Wife, and you'll find it confirm'd with her last Breath.

Then, Gentlemen, cease wondering that I can Talk of Rambling so soon after Marrying a Second Wife. For you see (by the Happiness I enjoy in her) that he that is born under a Rambling Planet, all that he does to Fix him at Home, does but Hasten his Travels Abroad.—I found it thus when Eliza, liv'd, and the case is the same now: For tho I am married again, and that to a Wife of whom I may say, That She fully Vnderstands and Practices all the Duties of a Tender Wife; so that she seems to be Eliza still in a New Edition, more Correct and Enlarged; or rather my First Wife in a New Frame: For I have only chang'd the Person, but not the Vertues.—’But for all this present Happiness, being born to Travel, I am e'er and anon Talking of Ships, The Marriner's Com­pass, and Going to Sea, and cann't be easie an hour together, without thinking of some far Countrey. If 'twere not thus, I had never left Mother, Daughter, House and Home, to Ramble I knew not whither, and to see I know not what. Sure­ly in the Winding Chambers of Nature, I even then [Page 148] lay Forming Ideas of Long' Voyages and New Worlds: For ever since I came into Being, to Ramble has been as Natural to me as Eating.—

Thus (at parting) have I Set my Self in a True Light; have Thank'd my Friends for their many Favours, and am pretty even with all my Enemies; but more especially with P. Campbel, T. F. and the Foes to the Second Spira, &c. And now if T. F. or any one else thinks himself injur'd in This Scuf­fle, I must tell him, as I did Patrick, That the Press is Open. Gentlemen, If you'd know who I mean by this T. F. I shall answer this, by asking, Who do you mean by I N. take thee M. in the Form of Matrimony? I mean no body but he that shews his Guilt by Wincing; and whoever that Person be, I'll Reply to him (as I told Campbel) de die in diem, till I wear my Pen to the Stumps, 'Tis true, Patrick Refus'd to Answer my Broad Side, (I mean my Second Letter in the Dublin-Scuffle) as knowing his own Guilt: And I sup­pose BRASS will have more Wit than to have his Life Expos'd: But if he has more Courage than Patrick had, and will Answer this with his Name to it, I shall Treat him as a Generous Enemy. But if Brass (or any one else) offers to murder my Reputation in a private manner, I shall smell (as I did before) whence the Malice springs, and will do my self Justice on Patrick Campbel, and the Wanton Fop of Copper-Alley, and on a certain Person who boasts (for 'tis only such are my Ene­mies) he has lain with several Leud Women: Gentlemen, The Hints I have by me on These Heads, are large enough for a Second Part of the Dublin-Scuffle; which I resolve to Publish, if they slander me when I am gone, or offer to cleanse their hands by laying their vile Practices at my Door, which I am clear of, so much as in thought; [Page 149] Neither cou'd they brand me with an ill thing, for the 9 Months I liv'd in Dublin; for I dar'd 'em to it again and again, and they durst not say Black was my Eye: but when I am shipt off, and gone too far to disprove their Lies, then to invalidate my Charge against 'em, they'l per­haps call me Drunkard, Swearer, Sheep-stealer, Whore-master, Murderer, and what not? For how far will Revenge carry men? But my comfort is, they may as well call me R [...]inoceros, as any one of the foresaid Monsters; for they can no more prove me one than t'other: And therefore what­ever Lyes they spread, or Leud Wretches may be tempted to swear; and some Evidence (especi­ally Irish) will swear through an Inch board; as was seen in the Case of the Earl of Shafts­bury, and at other Tryals, yet I defy the worst their Revenge can utter, provided I have a fair hearing; but that I shall never have, for they durst not (but in private) slander me whilst I staid, and when, Gentlemen, I'm gone, rather than want something to charge me with, they'l make that exact Justice I did ye all, pass for a piece of Hypocrisie. But if that be White and Innocent too, then will they go near to indict my very Care and my Caution, and make my very flying Temptations to be (tho but su­perficially) Criminal. But if my Conversation be Fair and Honest, (the Account of which shall be added to the Dublin-Scuffle) then will they venture to dive into the very Recesses of my Soul, for it may be there may skulk some naughty Thought, which Patricks People will not fail to produce as Evidence against me—

Gentlemen, of this Temper I found my Ene­mies in the Dublin-Scuffle, and this is the Treat­ment I expect from 'em as sooon as I am un­der Sail, but they know Mr. Wild is a [...] Honest [Page 150] Man, and ready on the Spot to Defend my Inno­cence, and therefore they'l scarce abuse me, but be­hind the Curtain; But if my Reputation is Mur­der'd by a Person who conceals himself, I shall va­lue it as little as I do Patricks Malice, for let the World judge of Abuses which the Authors are not able to prove, and are asham'd to own. However, Gentlemen, tho' I'm leaving Ireland, I still dare these sneaking Badgers to do their worst, and to prove I'm in good earnest, I do in this last Farwel offer 5 l. to any that will and can honestly swear to any thing my Enemies say that will bear an Action; for if it touches my good Name, the Law is open, and tho it cost me 500 l. the Law­yers shall pursue the Slanderer with the utmost Rigour; for tho an Honest Reputation is preferable to all the World, yet I ought to own my self Guilty of every thing that wounds my Name, that I dare not prosecute.

Thus (Gentlemen) you see I am prepar'd, for the worst that Patrick (and all his Scoundrels) can say against me, but having told 'em the Truth, I must expect as abusive Dirt as their foul hands are able to fling, but the most false and ridiculous things they can say or invent, won't at all surprize me; for I know 'tis easy to dress up even an Apo­stle in a Fools Coat, and to laugh at him: I don't presume to have better luck than the Great SHERLOCK, and several Eminent Divines who are yet living, who, tho Men of Great Pi­ety and Learning cou'd not pass through the World without a SLANDER, or a WEA­SEL nibling at their Reputation, and there­fore Gentlemen, had I not known my Innocence, (except what I do Pennance for in these sheets) I should not have Scuffled with them; But if they'l let me have fair play, when I am gone, S [...] nothing but what they found—Put their Names [Page 151] to what they Write, and Publish nothing but what they'l prove (for Accusations make no Man a Cri­minal) I defy all my Enemies, from the Man in Buff, down to the Black-Rose; which (tho the best Flower in all the Garden, yet) when it spreads its Leaf, and begins to swell with Con­ceit and Pride, it loses it's Fragrancy, and shall be respected accordingly—Thus as I began, so I end my Farwel with a Defyance to all my Enemies—

But Gentlemen, I hav [...] tyr'd ye all; So I come now to [the last Becken of Farwel] Then Honest Wild, Dear Wainright, Generous Dell, Handsome Powel, Easy Dick, Friend Dobbs, (and all my other Friends) Farwel, Farwel for ever, for the Wind is fair, (Geo. Larkin and Price are already in the Boat) and I have but time to tell you that I am (as you found me all a­long)

Your very Faithful, and very Humble Servant, John Dunton.

The Answer to my Twelfth Letter, being Remarks on my Farwel to Dublin.


I Have received so many of Your Letters con­cerning your Irish Adventures, that one more will make them up a Baker's Dozen: By your last, I perceive you are like a True Game Cock, being [Page 152] once Engag'd, there's no Dis-engaging you again. You are so much flush'd with your Victories in Ireland, that I perceive you breathe nothing but Dreadful Threats against your Enemies in Eng­land, enough to make them either run away, or meet you on the Road with Terms of Submission; which (you look so big) I am afraid must be no less, than to submit to the Will of the Conquer­our, and Surrender on Discretion: And to be free with you, I think 'twill be their Best Way; and if I knew them, would send them Penny-Post Letters a piece to perswade them to it. You need not make any Apology for not fig [...]ting your Way in Tropes and Figures, for your Flights are so Ex­traordinary, that I do believe they can be reduc'd under any of the Rules of our Common Rhetorick. To make a handsome Retreat, is one of the best Accomplishments in a Good Captain; but I don't perceive yours to be any thing of that nature: To me, it looks more like the Sounding of a New Charge; and by your Way of Marching to the Field, I can almost Assure you of the Victory, without giving my self the Trouble of Consult­ing the Entrails of Birds or Beasts.

But now to your Last Farwel to your Ac­quaintance in Dublin, whether Friends or Ene­mies.

Your very first Line is a Cordial to the former, and a Corrosive to the latter. You have Sold your Venture of Books; then Patrick, I perceive, has Scuffled with you to little Purpose. If this be the first Note of your Retreat, I can scarcely imagine what other you can make use of for a Triumph; but this I impute to your Modesty.

As to the Catalogue of Your Books, which you think fit to exhibit, to shew the World they were not Trash, as your Enemies maliciously al­ledged [Page 153] them to be, I am of Opinion you might have sav'd your self the Labour. Those that Bought them did not Think them so; Else they Reflected upon Themselves, more than your Enemies did upon You: And as for Booksellers who call'd them by that Name, it would have passd well enough under the Notion of the no less True, than Common Saying, viz. That Two of a Trade can never Agre [...]:—And as to Others, your Catalogue is no Vindication: For there are Men in the World who will 'call the first and best Book in your Catalogue, Trash; I mean the Bible: And therefore well may others be so call'd: Nor in­deed is there any thing more usual amongst de­praved Men, than so undervalue what does not agree with their own private Sentiments, or what they have not an Interest in themselves.

But admitting, that in your Venture, there might be some Trash; I would [...]ain know, what Bookseller there is, who has none in his Shop; yea, [...]r what Gentleman or Divine is without it in his Clos [...]t. If Authors have Trash in their Heads, the World must endure the Pennance to have it in their Houses and Hands, so that the Reflecti­on is General; and I question very much, whe­ther any, or all of your Enemies, are Masters of so many Good Books as were in your Venture? And whether there be not more Trash, in the Best of their Shops, than you carry'd to Ireland?

For the Fairness of your Dealing, in not employ­ing Setters, and making use of Trusty Servants; it's proper, that you make your Appeal to the Publick in your Last Farewel: But I am affraid, you have been too particular in that matter, which can scarcely admit of any excuse, but that it shews the Goodness of your Nature; that not so much as an Honest Porter shall miss his due praise from you. As to Mr. Wild, I perceive, accord­ing [Page 154] to your Character, he is a Second Millington; so that if you were happy in his Assistance, he was happy in your Iustice. Your design of going to Scotland, I cannot say much to; that Coun­trey has labour'd under discouragements, as to Learning, for many Years, tho it does not want its proportion of Learned Men; and some of them you know, as the Lord Bishop of Salisbury, to name no more, make a great Figure in the World, on that Account: But as I am inform'd, by the constant intercourse they have with London and Holland, they are pretty well furnisht with Books; and what they buy, is generally of the Best Sort; so that if you go thither, you must have an Auction well pick'd, for those that buy Books there, are either the Chief of the Gentry, who are generally Men of Good Breeding, or the Richest of their Clergy, with whom every thing will not go down, that is greedily coveted by the Wits here.—And besides, there are so many of their own Booksellers, that come hither yearly, that I question if you will find your account in going thi­ther, except you can afford Extraordinary Pen­nyworths.

You talk, I perceive, of going to Rome; I hope you don't design to carry English Books there, if you do, you are likely to find a very dis­couraging Market; and for Latin Books, such as they value, the Continent can furnish them cheaper than our Island: But if you will go, Re­serve all the Trash and Stuff you can g [...]t, for that Auction; the worst that the London Booksellers Shops contains, is good enough for the Wh [...]re of Rome.

Having done with Patrick, and the rest of the Scufflers in Dublin, I perceive you now whet your Pen against T. F. and others of the same kidney in London; It's but Just that you should [Page 155] make Reprisals upon one to his Face, who has been so Cowardly as to Attaque you behind your Back Envy they say looks Pale, and that seems to be so much of T. F's quality, that I am affraid all your Rhetorick won't be able to make him blush, yet I am confident that upon Reading what you say of him, he must needs have some Stings within, or else his Case is worse than was that of either the first or second Spira.

The great Number of Books you have Print­ed, may very well be allowed in part of an Apology for some Trash, and I question whe­ther any of your Adversaries have printed as many Good Books, in proportion, as you have done. Your Ingenuous Confession, that you don't approve of all you have Printed, ought also to be allowed as another part of your defence, and I think the practise of some of the Trade (to print what they can get a Penny by) may very well be allowed to Compleat it, as far as the Case will admit of a defence; and there­fore whatever Rigid Casuists may do, it ill be­comes Book-sellers to hit any such thing in your Teeth: Let him that is without Guilt in that Respect, throw the first stone at you. But I find T. F. is not the Man that must begin, you have by a just Providence hit a Blot in his Es­cutchion; by which, I suppose, you have him at Command, and can Charge him with a down-right Cheat upon the World, if he be not so wise as (with Merry-Andrew on the Stage) to Eat his Pudding and hold his Tongue. What you say as to your General Practice in the Way of Dealing, I conceive, to be so Universally known, that few will offer to contradict you; Nor can any Man in Justice upbraid, or be angry with you, for disposing your Stock to the best advantage, by Auction or otherwise: These are but Snarles, [Page 156] and the ordinary effects of Envy in ill Men, who Grudge to see others thrive better than them­selves.

I come now to your second Spira, whereof you have given such a full and Satisfactory Ac­count, that I am of opinion, no thinking Man can hence forward Entertain an ill thought of you upon that Head. If it be a forgery, it's none of your making, or contrivance, nor is there a Bookseller in Town would have Refus'd the Copy upon the Like Information. As to that Person who dealt so Basely with you, and exclaimed against the Book, tho he was so Ea­ger to be a sharer in it, your Reproof is so sharp and pungent, and yet so true and just, that if he have any Resentments within his breast, or were ever accustomed to Reflect upon his own ways, I should not much wonder that he became a true Subject for a second Spira himself, if he allow'd his own Conscience a free Parley; All that I can say further is this, that you have laid it fairly at the Methodizers Door, and that of I. S. the Divine, who gave him the Information, if they won't Vindicate themselves, you were not in that oblig'd to bear them Company. The De­fence of your self on this Head, was certainly Necessary, and you have perform'd it so well, that were any Friend of mine engaged in a Com­bat of the like Nature, I could not tell where to recommend him to a better Second than your self: You needed not have been at the trouble of such an Asseveration, that this Defence is the product of your own Pen, for I am satisfied every body that knows you, will be ready e­nough to believe it.

[Page 157] SIR,

I am sorry that to the ill Treatment you have met with from Patrick Campbel, you should have that of other unjust Men added, who have Bought what they won't Pay for; It is but just the Bu [...]s and they should reckon when you are gone, seeing they would not come to an account with your self: I am glad however that they cannot plead your own Example as a President, and that no Man can charge you with any thing you have not paid for: Honesty is always Vniform, and the same in Ireland as in England, and therefore it is that the Provocations you have met with, have not been able to make any change upon you, or to influ­ence you to return Evil for Evil.

Your Grateful Remembrance of your Friends that incouraged your Auctions, does in my opi­nion, bespeak more of the Iustice of your Temper, than of your digestedness of thought. It had been sufficient to have named some of the most Eminent, and to have included the rest with an &c. Neither do I know how some of them may take it, to have their Characters published in this method; Modesty is a tender quality, and will soon be offended: The kindness of your heart must be your best Apology, and to such as know you, it will be excuse enough; but you ought to have remembred, that there's something else in the old Proverb of Killing with Kindness, than a mee [...] Pleasing: It cannot however be supposed, that you have any sordid design in these Encomiums, now that your Auctions are over, and that your next Ramble is design'd elswhere, and therefore all that can be said for it is this, That whereas some Men are troubled with an Over-flowing of the Gall, you are troubled with the contrary Di­stemper, if the saying be true, that jecore Ama­mus. It may perhaps, be ill taken by those of the [Page 158] Higher sort of your Friends, that you should joyn so many of an Inferiour Rank, as sharers with them in your Valedictory Elogiums; but I see no great Reason for it: No Man can live without the Ser­vices of the meanest Vulgar, and therefore Ju­stice obliges us to owe no Man any thing but Love. But it seems, you have a mind to Supererrogate, and to owe none of that neither, but to pay it all before hand, or on sight: I must confess, that for my own share, I never could think there was any thing of Barbarity or want of Cultivation in that Good Nature of some of the Indians, which Tra­vellers ridicule them for, viz. That they will not only enquire, after the Welfare of their Friends and their Families, but very kindly ask, how their Horses and their Dogs do; which in my opi­nion, includes this principle of Natural Justice in it, That we ought to be Grateful to all sorts of Creatures, that yield us Lawful Profit or Pleasure: And thus I bid Farewel, to your Farewel to all your Dublin Friends.

I come next to your Project of Rambling, as to which I must tell you, That you have Rambled more with your head in one Year, than you will be able to do with your Heels in seven; therefore would advise you to make use of the Curb a little, and not to be altogether on the Spur. You say, Your Raven was gone to Roost, a pretty while ago; and I know no reason why his Master should Ramble. But if the sight of four Kingdoms, and the Marrying of two Wives, be not enough to qualify this Rambling Humour, you must rectify your Geography a little better, and not Talk of Crossing the Hellespont to see Greece, for you must either Sail by Greece, or travel through it, before you can come at the Hellespont, except you design to take a round, and to repay the Czar his Visit; or if you be for a [Page 159] nearer cut, Sail down the Danube, and fall into the Black-Sea.

Methinks, the Good Entertainment you boast of at home, should intice you to stay there; If Va­leria's Arms be so Charming, She shall, if she take my advice, transform them into Chains, and hold you so fast, that you shall not have leave to stir; if Love won't oblige her to it, I am re­solv'd that Fear shall; And therefore Valeria, for it's to you that I now address my self, Don't trust the Raven too often abroad; You know that Noah's when once sent out, never came in again; and for any thing I perceive, yours has a great mind to be fol­lowing his; it was beyond the Hellespont where that was let loose, and I don't know, if yours once pass the Dardanelles, but they may meet, and so ramble on, and never think of returning to their Roost again; Noah's has none to return to, except it be an old rot­ten piece of the Ark on the Mountains of Arrarat, or as some say, of Armenia; and I am satisfied, the Raven in Jewin-street has better quarters: If no­thing else will prevail with him to stay and roost there, tell him, That Noah's Raven feeds upon Carrion; and you know very well, by his rejecting Dorinda's Billet Doux, that he hates such entertainment.

But now I return again to your Husband, & must tell him, He exposes your Vertue too much, first, by Rambling from you; and then by giving such a High Commendation of you, as were enough, but that you are beyond the reach of Temptation, to endanger you, or at least, to make you run Lu­cretia's Fate.—Wherefore Sir, Let me tell you, that as some will charge you with imperti­nence in troubling the World with an account of your Happiness in two Wives successfully, when there are so many Thousands, that to their grief, can never say, they were happy in one; if any mis­fortune should befal you on that account, you [Page 160] must blame your own Imprudence for it.—Had Tarquin never heard any thing of Lucretia's Vertue and Beauty, he would never have tempted her; and therefore my advice to you is, To stay at home and guard your Treasure, and don't both Fare well, and cry Roast Meat too. Remember the Old Saying,

Sed tacitus Pasci si posset Corvus Haberet,
Plus dapis et vixce multo minus invidiaeque.

I am Sir,

Your Faithful Friend, &c.

THE BILLET DOUX, Sent by a Citizens-Wife IN DUBLIN Tempting Me to LEUDNESS: With my ANSWERS to Her.

EPHES. V. xii. ‘It is a shame even to speak of those Things which are done of them in Secret.’

LONDON: Printed by George Larkin, Jun. (for the Au­thor) and are to be Sold by A. Baldwin near the Oxford-Arms in Warwick-Lane, and by the Booksellers in Dublin, 1699.

The Eleventh Letter.


I Formerly gave you an Account of my Scuffle with Patrick Campbel, who is none of the best of Men; and now shall entertain you with a surprizing Adventure that hath befall'n me with a Leud Wo­man. 'Twas a Billet Doux▪ sent me by a Citizens Wife in Dublin (as I judge by a Passage in it) both Enticing and Threat­ning me to her wanton Embraces. Your Remarks on this, as on my former Letters, will adde to all the Obligations which you have already laid upon,

Your very much ob­liged Servant, John Dunton.

The Billet was directed thus, To Mr. John Dunton at the Auction-House at Dick's Coffee-House in Skinner-Row.

[And is as follows, viz.]

SVre Philaret, you are not always guilty of disrespect to your Friends; can't you be more punctual to an Assignation; I can as­sure you, I was punctual both to Place and Time, and waited more than two Hours in hopes of your Happy Arrival; but when I found my Expectations frustrated, and my self only Banter'd and Abused, and forced to Retreat without so much as the bare Aspect of what I so longed for; none but one in my Circum­stance is able to imagine the various Passions that moved me: Fear, Hope, Love, Re­venge, all acted their several Parts, and so pass'd off the Stage; only Love remain'd to plead Excuses for you. Some of them so frivo­lous, that I am ashamed to mention them, on­ly to tell you (that senceless as they were) they had Power enough to prevail with one willing to believe (though against Sense or Reason) any Things that pleads in Philaret's Favour; [...]ome I went, where I attend your Answer, and am longing with Impatience, till [Page 203] I see what Excuses (the false) Philaret can frame for himself, for so the present Passion stiles him; though that Sentiment too was o­ver before I had finish'd the Sentence; and I could almost find in my Heart to burn my Let­ter; but that I should not have time to write a­nother, before the watchful Argus would in­spect into my Privacies; then I was about to blot it out, only that I fear'd would spoil the Phiz of my Billet; so I resolved to let it stand as a mark of my Courage, that I dare a [...] sometimes adventure to think Philaret false; yea, and that I was once bold enough to let you know it;—Well Philaret, I shall one Day be even with you, and it may be, you may Re­pent when it may be too late to retrieve the slight Value you have had for the most sincere and cordial Friendship laid at your Feet, by

Your ever faithful, Dorinda.

DIrect your Answer to me, to be left at that which was St. Lawrences Coffee-House on Cork-hill, under the bor­rowed Name of Captain Iohn Seamore, and I will order it to be call'd for by one that will safely deliver it to▪

Your own (Dorinda) if you please.

The First Answer to the Citizens-Wife.

SEpt. 5th. 1698.—I Received a Letter sub­scribed Dorinda, but am wholly a Stranger both to your Person and Meaning—your two Hours—your Time and Place—are Arabick to me, who approve of no Assig­nations but what are Just; and therefore 'tis very certain your Letter was wrong directed, and should have gone to some of your Leud Companions, who in your Drink (for there are such Monsters as drunken Women) or by the likeness of Garb, you mistook for me—or perhaps you're some Suburb Im­pudence, who would abuse an Honest Man in hopes of getting a Penny to conceal your Slanders. If this is your Design (as I am told 'tis usual with common Strumpets) you are as much mistaken in my Humour, as you are in my Person, and therefore go about your Business; for till you're Vertuous I can't Love ye, and 'tis not in my Nature to fear any Thing. But you say you'l be e­ven with me, if I fly your Leud Embraces, and that (if I don't meet you) I shall re­pent when 'twill be too late, the slight Value I have for you: but (I Thank God) my Vertue is Proof against all your Charms, and [Page 205] my Innocence such, as I challenge you to do your worst. But though the Repen­tance you threaten, no ways affects me, yet if you carry on your Jest farther, 'twill be fatal to Mr. S—, as he's the on­ly Person in Dublin, that knows me by the Name of Philaret, and must expect (upon the least Occasion) to bear the scandal of being your Friend—As to your Care in concealing your Leudness (for you say you're afraid of your watchful Argus) it no ways obliges me, I should more re­joice to hear that such a wanton (as your Billet shews you to be) had broke the De­vils Fetters, and was kneeling to her Hus­band for Pardon; though if he denies it▪ you have no Reason to Pout; for if Citi­zens Wives will C—d their Husbands, and invent new Fashions (and frisking Strains) of Disobedience, which their Holy Ancestors (and for ought we find in the Word) even the worst of Women ab­horr'd; why should not their Husbands, either send 'em to the House of Correction, or suit 'em with new Forms of Discipline: To what end else are they to dwell with 'em as Men of Knowledge? Doth this Knowledge, think ye, import nothing but Pusillani­mity and Patience? Is the Husband God's Vicegerent for nothing? And can he not be a Saint, unless a Fool too? But though the cold Water your Leudness has [...]lung upon Argus Affection is enough to extinguish [Page 206] it, yet the way to Amendment is never out of date; and who knows, if you prove as kind a Wife as you have been to the contra­ry, but Argus may be yet Happy. But he is Flesh and Blood as well as you, and therefore, except of a Wanton you become Chaste, he were better Travel than live with a W—r; if you think of Amend­ment, fling your self at your Husbands Feet; Tears in your Eyes may carry the Cause, where a Husband is Iudge? Without this, you do but dissemble with God and Man, neither can Argus think you Repent, till you discover your Leud Haunts, and the Names of those that have defil'd his Bed; to act thus, is to shake Hands with your Master Sin (which I find is Lust) and in some measure to repair the Damage you have done to Religion by your Whorish Intreagues. As this will prove your Sin­cerity, so 'twill make Argus forget your former Leudness, and if he's a generous Husband, never to mention 'em more. And Argus, if she thus repents, prithee receive her again—for what knowest thou, O Husband, whether thou shalt save thy Wife? 1 Cor. 7. 16. Neither are these ungrate­ful Reflections (my own Dorin­da, as you call your self) for there is no Faith in Sin, and I ought to slight a Friendship which can't be true, and would end in the Ruine of Soul and Body; Then go and Sin [Page 207] no more, John 8.11. ben't dilatory in these Matters ('tis ill vent'ring. Eternity upon your last Breath) nor suffer your Aversion to Argus to spread abroad, for a Quarrel Conceal'd, is half Cur'd—I have only to add, That I wish you Chaste, and better Eyes for the Future, and then Argus and you will fall a Loving again; and remember at Parting, 'tis your Penitence, and nothing else, can set you right in the Opinion of, &c.

Thus Sir, I have given you a faithful Account of this New Temptation, with which I have been Assaulted; and of my Reply to this Female Aggressor; I desire you to use your accustomed Freedom with me in your Remarks, which shall always be taken in good Part, by

Your very humble Servant, John Dunton.

Remarks on the Billet Doux, and I. D's Letter in Answer to it.

My Good Friend,

YOUR Last, with the Billet Doux, is more surprizing to me, than any thing that happened in your Encounter with Patrick Campbel. I cannot but be­wail the hardness of your Fate, that you should be condemn'd to Fight with Beasts of both Sexes: I find Ireland cannot boast of her being free from the Seed of the Ser­pent, whatever she may say as to her ha­ving none of those Creatures in Specie; and were I to choose, I should rather desire to Inhabit amongst Adders, than Lewd Wo­men: Happy would it be for Ireland, if she could make an exchange of the one for the other; but so long as the Popish Clergy are suffered to Nestle in such Numbers there, 'tis in vain to hope for it: Rome may well be call'd the Mother of Harlots, when it is the Practice of her Sons, to make as many such as ever they can.

I did not think however, that the Art of writing Billet Douxes, had been so well understood in Ireland: Your Dorinda seems to be so very expert in her Trade, That I fancy (if there be any thing of Reality in it, that is to say, if there be not Masculine [Page 209] Knavery and Malice at the bottom of it) She must be some Abdicated Retainer to our London Play-houses; or perhaps, the Off­cast of some Dead or Reformed Officer, who having no pay himself, is not able to retain her: Nay, for any thing that I know, She may be the Captain of Kirk's Troop of Twenty Five, that they say, he had in that Countrey, when so many of the Late King Iames's Atheists were sent to fight against their Brethren the Papists; for I can hardly think, a She-Cit of Dublin, so well vers'd in Ovid de Arte Amandi, as your Dorinda seems to be.

It's true I might Fancy, it were some Green-Sickness Nun, that had gone a Catter-wawling from her Nunnery, but then it comes into my mind, that they are suffici­ently provided by the Monks and Fryars; for you have heard, it was an Observation of Henry the 4th of France, many years ago, That the Nunnery was the Barn, and the Monks the Thrashers.

Then give me leave to add one Con­jecture more, Perhaps it might have been a Trap of Patrick's laying, and that he had a mind to try what he could do by Wo­men, since he was not able to deal with you by Wit.

Had you been caught in the Snare, there would have been subject of Triumph, and there's no reason to doubt but he would have Trumpeted your Fame. This can­not [Page 210] be accounted Uncharitable, if I un­derstand the true Character of the Man, for he that makes so bold with the last of the Ten Commandments (as it appears Patrick has done) cannot be suppos'd to have any great value for the other Nine: But be that how it will, I applaud your Conduct, and think you acted the part of an Honest Man, in returning such a Sharp and Perti­nent Answer; and the part of a Prudent Man, in doing it with those Precautions: You know I never Preach up Merit, and therefore you will not be offended if I tell you, That it was but your Duty: I am not unsensible, what many Men in your Cir­cumstances would have pleaded in Excuse of complying with such a Proffer; but you knew the danger of yielding to the Passion either of Revenge or Lust; none but Weak Men and Fools, are Slaves to those Ty­rannical Masters. Besides the Reward of a Good Conscience, your Courage in this Af­fair, will enhaunce your Value to your Family at Home, or at least, it ought to do so, if they be not condemned to perpetual Ingra­titude.

I am the more Confirm'd in my Thoughts, that it was a Snare laid for your Reputation, when I consider your way of carrying your self, the plainness of your Habit, and the influence which your Illness and late Scuffle must needs have had upon your outside; and especially, that the Letter was di­rected [Page 211] to your Auction-Room, for if the de­sign had taken, then there would have been ground for Patrick to have Libell'd you in the Irish Flying Post, and to have call'd it an Assignation-Room for Strumpets, instead of an Auction-Room for Books; which would have effectually hinder'd a­ny Mans frequenting it, who had but the least value for his Reputation. This is all I shall say at present, and conclude with my hearty Wishes, that you may still continue a Conquerour over your own Passions, as well as over your unjust Ene­mies. I am

Your Sincere Friend and Well-wisher.

The Twelfth Letter.


YOU are so very obliging and happy in your Remarks, and Advice, that I make bold to trouble you again with my second Letter to the Irish Dorinda. I thought it my Duty not to let Her pass without a severer Reproof, the Copy of which I here send you, to satisfie you how abominable such Crimes are in my Eyes, and that I took the most effectual Method [Page 212] I could to prevent a second Attempt of that Nature upon me. I am what I always was,

Your very humble and much obliged Servant, John Dunton.

To Dorinda.

I Hope you have received my First, which because I think not severe e­nough, I send you a Second. You see I reject your Courtship, as I would shake off a Toad, or a Snake that should Crawl upon me; for I look upon your Poyson to be worse than theirs. Yet because I would not be altogether ungrateful, for that which you proffer'd me under the No­tion of a Kindness, I send you, as a suita­ble present, a Treatise of Fornication, and a Book call'd God's Iudgments against Whore­dom, both which were Printed for me. I recommend them to your serious Perusal, they may through God's Assistance be in­strumental to Reform you, and at the same time to satisfie you that you mistook your Man, when you directed your Billet Doux to me. Yet I know not but there may be a Provi­dence [Page 213] in it, for you see my Auction affords pro­per Remedies for your Distemper; and I am so generous as to send you them Gratis. You must Pardon me however, if in my Applications I do something resemble the Quack; that is to say, if I prescribe Phy­sick without seeing the Patient; because I remember Solomon says, Go not by the Door of the Harlot, less she intice thee; that none but Fools follow such, and that the Way to her House is the Way to Hell and Death. That the Mouth of a strange Woman is a deep Pit, and that none but those who are abhorr'd of the Lord shall fall into it.

I wish you would be at the Pains to Read the fifth and seventh Chapters of the Proverbs. You who are Ladies of Plea­sure, use to Converse much with your Looking-Glass, and I will assure you, that there is the best Mirror you can make use of, it will exactly shew you all your Spots and Patches.

I doubt not, but you are troubled with all the Infectious Distempers that attend those of your Trade; and seeing the best way to cure Ulcers is to Lance them well, read this Treatise of Fornication, it may prove of Soveraign use; or if you find it makes your Wounds smart too much, ap­ply the softer Remedy of the Book of God's Iudgments against Whoredom, which being Historical may please you better perhaps, and be no less Effectual for working your [Page 214] Cure. To make the Pacquet compleat, I likewise send you another Medicine, call'd Concubinage and Polygamy displayed, which is an Answer to a Parson, one Mr. Butler, who fell out with his Wife, and in with his Maid, and therefore muster'd up all the Arguments he could in Defence of the more Genteel Practise of keeping Misses. Which you will here find solidly answer'd and condemn'd, but much more your own abominable Practise, which seems by your Letter to be that of a common Prostitute, or next a kin to it.

I would offer a few Arguments, if it were possible to reclaim you, and therefore would pray you to consider that Vnclean­ness dishonours your Body, makes you despi­cable in the Eyes of all Men, nay ev'n of those that haunt you, so that your usual Reward is an infamous Name, Loath­some Diseases, Extream Poverty, and an End suitable to such a vile way of Li­ving.

Then it damns your Soul, makes you un­capable of receiving any good Advice, de­stroys the Peace of your Family, if you have any, brings a Scandal and Disgrace up­on your Children, reflects shame upon your Relations, and makes you to be abhorr'd by all Civil Company.

It is against Reason, for it destroys all Property, brings a spurious Issue into Fami­lies, hinders the Propagation of Mankind, [Page 215] debases Humane Nature, makes you more Vile than the Brute Beasts.

It is against Charity, not only, because of the Discord it occasions in Families, but also because the Children of Whoredom are many Times murder'd, and continual­ly neglected, either in their Maintenance or Education, which is destructive both to their Souls and Bodies, and upon this Ac­count it was as severely punish'd by the Canon-Law as Murder.

It is against all the Rules of Christianity—There being nothing more severely Cen­sur'd in the Scriptures than Fornication and Adultery; Persons who continue in those Practises, being therein declar'd un­fit for the Communion of the Church here, and of the Saints hereafter; and liable to Everlasting Damnation: This is so plain, that I shall not trouble you with quoting Texts, for you can turn your Eye no where, but you will find what I say to be true, that the Holy Ghost Threatens Gods Iudgments upon Whoremongers and A­dulterers, and that they shall not inherit the Kingdom of Heaven.

We see by Experience, that they who give themselves up to this Sin are very sel­dom, if ever, reclaim'd; but go on in their Wickedness till they become Vile in the Eyes of all the World, hateful to Heaven and Earth, and fit only to be Fewel for Hell.

[Page 216] God in his Iust Iudgment giues such Pe [...] ­sons up for the most part to hardness of [...] ▪ a Reprobate Mind, Vile Affections, and to work all Uncleanness with Greediness; so that instead of being [...]it Temples for the Holy Ghost to dwell in, they become Dens for Legions of Unclean Spirits; and how often does it appear upon the Trials of [...], Thieves, and Murderers, that the [...]r falling into this Sin of Uncleanness, has been the first occasion of their committing those other Crimes, which bring them to fatal Ends.

It were easie to fill a Volume with To­picks against this Crying and Reigning Sin; but your Temper is such, that I can scarcely believe you will have Patience to read those short hints I here send you. Yet Charity obliges me to give you this Re­proof, though it be no other than to cast Pearls before S [...]ine.

I have clear'd my own Conscience by improving this Opportunity, and if you do not Reform upon this fair Warning, Remember that it will be a dreadful Wit­ness against you at the Last Day, how­ever slight you may make of it now.

If you have a Husband, your Guilt is still the Greater; as being aggravated with Perj [...] ­ry, and the odious Crime of Ingratitude: Nay, perhaps may be attended in Time with Murder of your self, Husband or Chil­dren; you entail a Disgrace upon your Po­sterity, [Page 217] and fill your Relations with Shame:—The very Name of a Stu [...]ipet, being as offensive to the Ears of every Modest Per­son, as the sight of a Dead Carkass, t [...]o of the dearest and nearest Kindred, is to our Eyes, or the Scent of it to our Nose.

But for all these known Consequences of a Whorish Life, yet there's more Wan­tons in Dublin, besides Dorinda; nay ho [...] common and bare-fac'd (as I hinted else­where) is this Vice grown? ‘—For there's my Lord—L—declares, he could Love his Wife above all Women in the World, if she were not his Wife. The Duke of—is of the same Mind; and the George and Garter little better. Sir Charles—follows his Example; and most have a Tang of this Rambling Fancy.—Where is the Man (except my self) that's not a C—d? Or the Woman that so Tempers her self in her Behaviour with Men, as if Vertue had settled her self in her Looks and Eyes [...] I profess▪ (when I have excepted Three or Four Persons) I know not where to find her. We were wont to say, It was a wise Child that knew his own Father, but now we may say, It is a wise Father that knows his own Child. Men and Women as familiarly go into a Chamber, to [...] one another on a Feather-bed, as into a Tavern, to be merry with Wine. She that does not Dance so lofty, that you may see her Silken Garters, and learn to [Page 218] forget Shame, is no Body. Who would think to find Hercules, the only Worthy of his Time, stooping to the Meanness of being a Servant to Omphale, and in the quality of a Wench working at the Rock and Spindle? Or to see Mark Anthony lose the World for a Cleopatra, a Woman, a thing in Petticoats? But would Flesh and Blood listen to Prov. 22. 14. and remem­ber, that the Child often proves the Picture of the Lover, and discovers it (Bless'd Con­clusion of stoln sweets) they'd ne'er invade the Right of another.’ This Vice, was formerly punish't with Death: Abi­melech made it Death to the Men of Gerar, to meddle with the Wife of Isaac; and Iu­dah Condemn'd Tha [...]ar for her Adulterous, Conception; the Egyptian Law was to cut off the Nose of the Adulteress, and the of­fending Part of the Adulterer. The Lo­crians put out both the Adulterers Eyes. The Sermai (as Tacitus reports) placed the Adulteress amidst her Kindred Naked, and caused her Husband to beat her with Clubs through the City; and the Cumani caused the Woman to Ride upon an Ass Naked, and hooted at, and for ever after call'd her (in scorn) [...] Rider upon the Ass: And here in England (which Argus must needs know, and therefore (Dorinda) make no more Assignati­ons) 'tis common for Whores to be Whip'd, or to do Pennance in a White Sheet; and in Scotland they are put into (what they call) [Page 219] the Stool of Repentance—But, Dorinda, be­sides the shame that attends Whoring, you'll find (if you dare read the Duty of Man, P. 21 8.) ‘That to accept your Offer, is to do Argus many [...]nd high Injustices, for it is first the Robbing him of that which of all other Things, he should count most precious, the Love and Fidelity of his Wife; nor is this all, but it is further in­gulfing him (if ever he come to discern it) in that most tormenting Passion of Iealousie, which is call'd the Rage of a Man. It is yet further bringing upon him the Name of a [...]. and though (as this Author observes) it is very Unjust, he should fall under Reproach only be­cause he is injured; yet unless the World could be [...] moulded, it will certainly be his Lot. Besides Dorinda, if you C—d Argus, 'tis a Robbery (as this Author fur­ther observes) [...] in the usual Sence of the Word; ‘for perhaps, it may be the thrust­ing in the Child of the Adulterer into his Family, to share both in the Mainte­nance and Portions of his own Children; and this is an errand Theft. First, In respect of the Man, who surely intends not the Providing for another Mans Child; and then in respect of the Children, who are by that Means defrauded of so much as that goes away with. And therefore, whosoever hath this Circumstance of the Sin to repent of, cannot do it effectually [Page 220] without Restoring to the Family, as much as he hath by that means robb'd it of.’

Thus (Dorinda) having briefly shewn the Shame, and many ill Consequences that attend the gratifying your wanton Ap­petite: I would next give you Directions (would you Listen to 'em) how to mor­tifie your Carnal Desires, for Lust (as I said in my first Letter) seems to be your Master-sin—'Tis true, there are Persons that seek to justifie their Commission of this Sin, by the impossibility of their abst [...]in­ing from its Commission; but surely, the Apostle Paul would not enjoin the Corin­thians, to flee Fornication, if it were a Thing Persons cannot flee; the Plea of cannot is a meer Pretence; the most passionately Amo­rous can contain for a Time, upon Promise of enjoying the Woman he desires; and can­not he then if he will, conta [...]n for always▪ when better Pleasures and Enjoyments are assured to him, upon his Con [...]nency▪ unto all Eternity.

And now (Dorinda) having answer'd the Pretence of Impossibility of your being Chaste: I shall next proceed to such Directi­ons, which if minded, will keep you Honest.

I own Directions of this Nature are so common a Theam, that 'tis impossible to avoid treading in the steps of other Wri­ters, but I judge you Ladies of Pleasure, don't Love long Harangues; I shall there­fore [Page 221] say in little, what others have mo [...]e large­ly insisted upon.

First, Then in order to the Flying Adulte­ry, suppress the first Desires of Vncleanness that do arise in your Heart. 'Tis easier (Dorinda) to deal with a Spark, [...] with a Flame; to crush an Egge, than kill a Cockatrice: The beginning of a Tempta­tion is the Time to show your greatest Va­lour and Vigilance in.

Secondly, Hold no Dispute against [...] Temptations to Vncleanness: To Dispute with it, is the way to be overcome by it, hear the Temptation but speak for it self, and before you are aware▪ it insinuates it self into the Bosom of you, and is in your Heart before you can think it got into your Head; with an unseen Fire and insen­sible Power, it melts you into softness, and dissolves you into yielding: I say (Dorinda) give it no Consideration, but run away from it, as Ioseph did from his Tempting Mistress. Had our great Grandmother Eve done so at first with the Devils Tempta­tion, had she given no Ear to his Words, set no Eye upon the Fruit, held no Dispute with him, but turn'd her self, and gone away from him▪ she had not been the Mother of so much Sin and Misery, as she hath been to her Posterity.

Thirdly, Avoid all Things that may exter­nally provoke to Lust, as Conversation with Men that are Leud, &c. Dorinda, if you [Page 222] touch pitch you will be defil'd; Mens Arts to seduce are powerful and prevail­ing, their Blandishments delicate and mel­ting, their Words are charming▪ their Looks inchanting, their Kisses killing, and their Glances are Darts to destroy; there's Pitch and Birdlime in their Lips and Fin­gers, and Itch of amorousness of Skin all over; you may (Dorinda) as well hug a Flame without being burnt, as to admit a Leud Man within your Embraces, and not be all on Fire with the heat of Lust.

To put many Things together for brevity sake, avoid the speaking of any wanton Words, and if possible the hearing of any spoken; and be sure write no more Billet Douxes, also the reading of any lascivious Books or Verses, also the beholding of any impure Sights, either of shameful Parts or A­ctions themselves, or the Pictures of them: Avoid also the being a Spectator of any wanton Plays or Shows, Balls, or Dances, or other lascivious Revels, which by the garish Dresses, amorous Words, and wan­ton Gestures used therein, do not only in­struct, but stir up to Uncleanness. These Things (Dorinda) are the great and com­mon Bane of Modesty.

Fourthly, Fly those Vices and subdue those Passions which encline you to Lust, such as Drunkenness (for alas 'tis now become a Fe­minine Vice) Gluttony, Covetousness, Idleness, and Curiosity.

[Page 223] In the first Place shun Drunkenness, for though the Eye stirs up Lust, 'tis Drun­kenness sets it on Fire; there is but one step (Dorinda) from excessive Wine to unlawful Lust. Lot's Daughters made their Father drunk with Wine, and the next News you hear of him is, that in his Drunken­ness he lay with his own Daughters.

Again Dorinda, if you'd live a Chaste, Modest Life, you must not Eat to excess; Iesurun waxed Fat and Kicked, that is, waxed wanton upon his high Feeding; so Ier. 5. 8. They were as fed Horses, in the Morning every one Neighed after his Neigh­bours Wife—It is very difficult to Feed high, and Live chastely; then (Dorinda) a­void not only the use of all lustful Food, but all extravagant Feeding on any Meat.

Thirdly, Don't be too much in Love with Money, 'Tis the Root of all Evil, (1 Tim. 6. 10.) There's a huge Power in Riches to corrupt Chastity, few Women (if [...]ut a little amorous) are Proof against the blaze of Gold—How many Women in Dublin (and in London too) prostitute their Bodies to all Comers, perhaps for a beggarly 2 s. 6 d. Yea (and which is a shame to speak) how many Men are there, that for the Love of Money do as it were let themselves out to hire for Stallions to satis­fie the Lust of some Women; I suppose ye have heard of G—n, if therefore you're wil­ling to Reform, and to live chastly, you must fly Covetousness.

[Page 224] Again, I'd advise you to avoid Idleness, for Lust (as Bishop Taylor observes) usu­ally creeps in at those Emptinesses where the Soul is Vnimployed, and the Body at Ease; and a­bove all Idleness, the Idleness of the Bed and Couch is most hurtful; the soft Bed is the Mother of wanton Thoughts—The Time when David fell a lusting after Bath­sheba was in the Evening, after he had been lolling on his Bed, 1 Sam. 11. 2. And therefore (Dorinda) if you'd live honest, you must avoid Idleness.

In the next Place, I would advise ye (if you'd live chastly) to make a Covenant with your Eyes; have a chaste Eye and a Hand▪ [...]or it is all one (saith Bishop Taylor) with what Part of the Body we commit Adul­tery; what though I have rejected to C—d Argus, yet if I let my Eye loose, and en­joy the Lust of that, I am an Adulterer; for our Saviour saith—Look not upon a Wo­man to Lust after her; the Eye is a great Inflamer of Lust; we read of Eyes full of Adultery (2 Pet. 2. 14.) Ioseph's Mistress first cast her Eye upon Ioseph, and then she said Lye with me, Gen. 39. 7. Beauty is a dangerous Thing, therefore when you see a Handsome Man (especially at Church, if you ever go there) take heed of Eying him too much, stare not upon him; you may as well face a Basilisk, as a pretty Face.

Now Dorinda, these Directions, if care­fully heeded, will be a means to keep you [Page 225] Chaste and Honest, but if you find 'em in­effectual (for I'd fain have you a true Pe­nitent) then,

Fifthly, Mortif [...]e your Body, in order to the subduing of your Flesh; and to this Pur­pose Fast often, and that a considerable Time; take away Diet and Drink, the fuel of L [...]st, and the heat of it will abate, and the Fire of it goeth out: In the Fas [...]s we read of kept by the Saints in Scripture, they did neither Eat nor Drink, that is, hot until Night, and that which they took then, was very little, and of mean quality, a bit of Bread and a draught of Water. In this Case take Meat like Medicines, no more then needs must; to keep you alive and preserve ye in Health. Thus (Dorinda) by often forbearing to Eat at all, and a mean Diet when you do Eat, you'll have little mind to be Writing of Billet Dou [...]es, for thin ordinary Food will starve your Lust, and bring the Flesh (that Enemy of yours) (like a Town p [...]ned out with a long Seige) to your own Terms. But (Dorinda) if the Rebel Lust still haunts your Mind, then use some sharpness to him, cause him to smart either by Praying in painful Po­stures (as on hard Stones, with bare Knees) or else by wearing Sackcloth, or Hair S—cks upon your Flesh, or by Scourging your Body with the Rod or Whip. This is a Course Saint Paul took with himself, (1 Cor. 9. 27.) I keep under my Body, and [Page 226] bring into SubjectionSt. Bernard. One for this end tumbled himself a­mong Thorns; another burned his Face and Hands; a third run sharp Prickles up his Fingers between the Flesh and the Nails; and (Dorinda) 'tis much better to Afflict your self for a while, than be lash'd by Satan forever in Hell.

Sixthly, Meditate on those Things, as may by poring on them curb your Lust; and here, Dorinda,

First, Consider the falls of those who have miscarried in this way, as of Iane Shore, Creswel, Nel G—n, &c. Women fa­mous in their Generations for Wit and Beauty; and yet see (Dorinda) to what weakness of Body, and poorness of Spirit they were brought to by this Sin.

Secondly, Consider the Constancy of o­thers that have continued Chaste, not­withstanding their Temptations to Un­cleanness; the most remarkable one that I can think-of, is that of Ioseph, Recorded in Gen. 39. 7, to 13. He was tempted to it by his Mistress, who had some Power to command him, and many ways to oblige him, yet he consented not. He was temp­ted to it, not by Looks and Glances, Hints and Intimations, (any of which were e­nough with too many in these our Days, to draw them to it) but with downright Words, she plainly and boldly said to him, Lie with me; and yet he consented not. He was tempted to it by her, not once or twice [Page 227] only, (for Tryal of him, as might be thought) but many times, to shew she was in earnest; she was often at it with him, tempting him, she spake to Joseph day by day, and yet he consented not. He was tempted to it by her, not at unseasona­ble times only, while Company was at home, whereby they might be discovered and descryed, but at a time of greatest seasonableness and opportunity, when he might act the thing with greatest Secrecy and Security, when he had business to do within the House, and there was none of the Men of the House there within; and yet he consented not. He was tempted to it by her, not only by winning Speech, but by en­forcing Action; she not only used Speech to him, but laid hands on him, she caught him by his Garment, saying, Lie with me, and yet he consented not. Here (Dorinda) is an Example of Constancy and Chastity worthy of your Imitation. Not much un­like was that which St. Hiero [...]e Reports of a Son of a King of Nicomedia, who be­ing tempted upon Flowers, and a perfu­med Bed whereon he was tied, by an im­pure Curtesan with all the Arts, and Cir­cumstances of Luxury, lest the ease of his posture should abuse him to a yielding to her Temptations, bit off his Tongue, and spit it in her Face. Dorinda, if such Chaste Examples as these be made familiar to your Mind by frequen [...] Meditation on [Page 228] them, they will help you toward the Vi­ctory over Uncleanness.

Thirdly, Bethink with thy self a while (Dorinda) when thou art under Temptati­on to Vncleanness, what a business that Face is, which thou so doatest upon, and the Consideration thereof, will very much allay thy heat, and cool thy desire, and even dash thee out of Countenance. For there is nothing certainly that so much master­eth the desire of the Fl [...]sh, as to think what that which one loveth, is, after once it be dead. And the Experience hereof, we have in that Hermit, who understanding that a Woman, whom he was too too much ena­moured on, was Dead, went by Night to her Grave, and having opened it, with the Lap of his Mantle wiped away some of the filth of the dead Corps, being half rotten, and when afterwards he found himself possess'd with any unlawful de­sires, he laid abroad his foul and stinking Mantle, and said thus to himself; Go to now, see what it is that thou dost desire, and take thy fill of it. By which means his heat was cooled, and his Lust quenched.

Then Seventhly, Dorinda, consider that you cannot Act this Sin, but there will be Eyes upon you.

First, The Eye of God is upon you, The Eyes of the Lord are in every Place, as Solo­mon tells us, Prov. 15. 3. beholding the E­vil and the Good [...] no possibility of escaping [Page 229] his sight, if ye should attempt the com­mitting of any such Fact. And who that hath seriously considered of this, could e­ver have the Confidence to do any such thing?

In a Fury, or for some politick Purpose, such a like thing as this may be acted in the presence of a Man; as it once hap­pened in Alexandria, where a Tarlaquin transported with beastly Fury, ran at a Woman as she came out of the Stove, threw her on the ground, and notwithstanding all the Resistance she made, had carnal Knowledge of her in the presence of many Spectators. A [...]d so we read in a Sam. 16. 22. how to make the breach irrepara­ble between Absalom and his Father Da­vid. Absalom spread a Tent upon the Top of the House, and went in unto his Fathers Con­cubines in the sight of all Israel.

Yet generally in Men that have not ut­terly defaced all the common Notices of God, which Nature's hand hath written in the Heart of Man, Secrecy for Time, and for Place, is sought out for the acting of this Sin. Nay, Dorinda her self (as Leud as she is) would scarce commit Adultery in the view, even of those Pimps and B [...]l­lies who are the most instrumental to her Debaucheries.

Now surely, Dorinda, if the Eye of Man be not to be endured in the Commission of this Sin, much less should you be able [Page 230] to endure the Eye of God upon you. This Consideration was effectual to Preserve Paphnutius, who being wearied with the Sollicitations of a tempting Dali [...]ah, at last consented to the Act, provided it might be committed where they might not be seen. Whereupon being brought into one Room, he alledged they might be seen from this Place, and in another, that they might be seen in that Place; and still found some Exception upon that account; but at last being brought into such a Place where could be no Reason for such a Plea, yet he al­ledged, that it was not so Secret, but that the Eye of God would be upon them even there, and that unless his Eye too, as well as all others, could be shut out, he durst [...]ot do it; by which means he not only preserved his Integrity, but converted a Harlot.

Secondly, Beside the Eye of God upon you, who is to be your Iudge, you have the D [...]vil with you, who does mean to be your Accuser. The Devil is Pimp-General to the World; not a piece of filthiness Dorinda ever com­mits, but he is as one at it by his Entice­ments to it. He finds and furnishes with fuel for Lust. And as he knows all ye do now, so he will tell all ye have done hereaf­ter; where, and when, and with whom you have play'd the Whore.

Thirdly, Besides the Eyes of all without you, there is (Dorinda) the Eye of your Con­science within you, which will also be one Day [Page 231] a Thousand Witnesses against you. In Consideration whereof, doubtless it was, that Pythagoras gave that good and wise Counsel of his, That no Man should commit any filthiness either with ano­ther, or alone by himself (which Self-pol­lution is a sort of potential Murther) and that above all others, he should stand in awe of himself; that is, dread and fear his own Conscience (as I formerly hinted to Patrick Camp­bel.)

Now Dorinda, if the following these Directions, don't Cure your raging Lust; then in the Eighth Place, when you are tempted to Uncleanness, seriously think on what is behind, viz. Death, Iudgment, Heaven, and Hell; and the serious Thought of any one of these, is enough to extin­guish the Flames of Lust. Dorinda, Death is behind Thee. Thou canst not live for ever here, thou must dye; and you know not how soon; perhaps it may be in the very Act of thy Uncleanness; and how dismal, Dorinda, would your Condition be, if that should befal you? What can befal a Person more dreadful, than to be catcht, and cut off by Death, in the very Act of Sin?

But, secondly, Not Death only, but Iudg­ment also is behind. Dorinda, thou must not only Dye, but be judged too for thy Uncleanness after Death: For Whore­mongers [Page 230] to endure the Eye of God upon you. This Consideration was effectual to Preserve Paphnutius, who being wearied with the Sollicitations of a tempting Dalilah, at last consented to the Act, provided it might be committed where they might not be seen. Whereupon being brought into one Room, he alledged they might be seen from this Place, and in another, that they might be seen in that Place; and still found some Exception upon that account; but at last being brought into such a Place where could be no Reason for such a Plea, yet he al­ledged, that it was not so Secret, but that the Eye of God would be upon them even there▪ and that unless his Eye too, as well as all others, could be shut out, he durst not do it; by which means he not only preserved his Integrity, but converted a Harlot.

Secondly, Beside the Eye of God upon you, who is to be your Iudge, you have the Devil with you, who does mean to be your Accuser [...] The Devil is Pimp-General to the World; not a piece of filthiness Dorinda ever com­mits, but he is as one at it by his Entice­ments to it. He finds and furnishes with fuel for Lust. And as he knows all ye do now, so he will tell all ye have done hereaf­ter; where, and when, and with whom you have play'd the Whore.

Thirdly, Besides the Eyes of all without you, there is (Dorinda) the Eye of your Con­science within you, which will also be one Day [Page 231] a Thousand Witnesses against you. In Consideration whereof, doubtless it was, that Pythagoras gave that good and wise Counsel of his, That no Man should commit any filthiness either with ano­ther, or alone by himself (which Self-pol­lution is a sort of potential Murther) and that above all others, he should stand in awe of himself; that is, dread and fear, his own Conscience (as I formerly hinted to Patrick Camp­bel.)

Now Dorinda, if the following these Directions, don't Cure your raging Lust; then in the Eighth Place, when you are tempted to Uncleanness, seriously think on what is behind, viz. Death, Iudgment, Heaven, and Hell; and the serious Thought of any one of these, is enough to extin­guish the Flames of Lust. Dorinda, Death is behind Thee. Thou canst not live for ever here, thou must dye; and you know not how soon; perhaps it may be in the very Act of thy Uncleanness; and how dismal, Dorinda, would your Condition be, if that should befal you? What can befal a Person more dreadful, than to be catcht, and cut off by Death, in the very Act of Sin?

But, secondly, Not Death only, but Iudg­ment also is behind. Dorinda, thou must not only Dye, but be judged too for thy Uncleanness after Death: For Whore­mongers [Page 232] and Adulterers God will judge, Heb. 13. 4.

Then again, There is Heaven behind, a State of Pleasure, Joy and Happiness, be­yond all that the World, hath or ever had.—Then (Dorinda) if at any Time you are tempted to Uncleanness, Iay, Shall I, for a bru [...]tish Pleasure lose my Heaven? Lose my Happiness? Can the Company of all the Men in the World (had I the Enjoy­ment of them all) countervail the loss of Heaven.

And Lastly, Dorinda, There is Hell be­hind. And who are to be turned into this burning Lake? Why, the Wicked, and amongst the rest, Adulterers, and such-like Desilers of the Image of God, and Mem­bers of Christ, and Temples of the Holy Ghost.

Then (Dorinda) argue with they self, and say, What shall I go to Hell for a Bil­l [...]t Doux? Have I a mind to be damned for an Assignation? Shall I plunge my self into Fire and Brimstone, there to lie and roar to all Eternity, for the little short nasty Pleasure, which is had in the Embra­ces of a Leud Person? Thus (Dorinda) at any Time, when you come under the Temptations of Lust, call to mind Death, Iudgment, Heaven, and Hell, and you will (by God's Grace) be so wrought on in that Meditation, that you will both fly the Acts, and detest the Thought of Un­cleanness.

[Page 233] And how Dorinda, you may perhaps upbraid all this as a Sermon, as is usual for the Libertines of the Age to do. I shall not be much concern'd at it, if it happen to be so. I think no shame to own that, I am descended from the Tribe of Levi by Four successive Generations, and was likewise Allied to it by my first Marriage, wherein never was any Man more happy. They that Honour God, will Honour his Ambassadors; and they that despise them, despise him, as they do his Message; but at the last Hour you will change your Mind, and wish to die the Death of the Righ­teous, though you never car'd to imitate their Life.

Break off then from your Sins in Tim [...], by a true Repentance and cordial Reformation; learn to entertain pure and chaste Flames of Devotion in your Soul, and they will quick­ly extinguish those bruitish Lusts that hur­ry you head-long to Pordition; which if the Almighty grant you Grace to do, you will be sensible that you were not mistaken in making Application to me as your Friend; though you were very much out in the Method, and as much disappointed in the Manner. I adde no more, but that I do as earnestly wish your Conversion as I hate your Vice, and if this may be any way conducive to­wards it, I shall think my self Happy in a good Improvement of the first Billet Do [...]x that ever was put into my Hand; and [Page 234] that though you were Wicked, that you were not unhappy in sending it. Farewel Dorinda.

Remarks on J. D's. Second Letter to the Citizens-Wife.


I Have perused your second Letter to the Irish Dorinda, and am of Opinion she never met with such returns to her Court­ship before. It's not probable, that she will trouble Philaret any more with her Billet Douxes, and it were to be wished she never troubled any Body else with them. You have done your Part to cure her Di­stemper, but that Disease in the Soul is too often like the Gout in the Body: Op­probrium Medicorum.

You have however discharged your Du­ty, be the Event what it will. I cannot well tell what you could have said more, for you have touch'd on most of the Ordinary Topicks; if what you have said do but reach a Conviction, she will not grudge to read the Treatises you have recommend­ed to Her; to which I wish you had ad­ded Mr. Carr's Antidote against Lust, 'tis also a Book of your own Printing; and will further inform her Judgment, and [Page 235] convince her of the vileness of her Pra­ctise.

I am glad that you have left behind you in Dublin such Proofs of your fair way of deal­ing, and of your Iustice to the Marriage. Bed; had all who have gone hence shew'd the Irish such good Example; it would have rendred the English Conquest of that Coun­trey more Universal and Effectual, than e­ver our Arms have yet done.

I have nothing else to say, but that per­haps, when this Billet Doux comes to see the Publick, the Reality of it may be Que­stioned; not that your Person and Purse might not have been as tempting as those of others, who have frequent Adventures of this sort; but because of ill natur'd Suspi­cion amongst those of your own Trade, and the too frequent Abuses of that Kind, which some few of 'em have put upon the Publick; and indeed had I not seen the O­riginal, and been satisfied from the proba­bility of the Circumstances; as the Place to which 'twas directed, the credible Witnesses, who saw you send your Answer, and your own Affirmation; I should have suspected the Truth of it my self.

Your Design of putting it in Print, I cannot disapprove; it (shews your Inno­cence and) will not only prevent those wanton Ladies from making you any more their Confident, but may deter others from the like Practises, lest they should have the [Page 236] same Fate, and it must needs be a Picquant Re­buke to the loose Dorinda, to see her Billet Doux expos'd to Publick View. For though she Lives under Covert, it may happen some way or o­ther to point her out, as it's but Just it should. I am

Your very Humble Servant,

The Thirteenth Letter.


HAving troubled you with Dorinda's Billet Doux, and my former two Letters to Her, and receiv'd your Remarks upon them, which were very much to my Satisfaction; I give you the Trouble of one more, which you will oblige me to peruse, and to give me your Thoughts upon it with your usual Freedom.

[The Letter is as follows, viz.]


IN my first Letter, I checkt your Impudence for contriving to C—d Argus—In my se­cond Letter, I sent you Rules for Chastity; and having receiv'd no Answer to either of these Let­ters: I conclude you are asham'd of your Billet Doux, and are willing to be Reform'd. If these Conjectures are Right, 'twill be proper in the next place to say what I can to set Argus and you a Loving again; and here I shall Write nothing but my own Experience, to which I'll adde Rules for [Page 237] Dorinda and Argus to live by, which may (if Do­rinda's a true Penitent) maked [...]em yet a [...]appy Pair.

I shall begin these Rules, with telling Do­rinda, Wo are taught from Scripture, that—Marriage is honourable in all Men, so is not a single Life; in some it is a Snare, and a Trouble in the Flesh, a Prison of unruly Desires, which is attempted daily to be broken; A single Life [...] is never commanded, but in some Cases Marri­age is; for he that (like Dorinda) cannot con­tain, must Marry; and he that can contain, is not tyed to a single Life, but may Marry very law­fully: Marriage was ordain'd by God, instituted in Paradice; was the relief of a natural Neces­sity, and the first Blessing from God himself: He gave to Man not a Friend, but a Wife, that is a Friend and a Wife too. It is the Seininary of the Church, and daily bring forth Sons and Daughters unto God. Our Blessed Lord, tho' he was born of a Maiden, yet she was Vailed un­der the cover of Marriage, and she was Marri­ed to—A WIDDOWER—for Ioseph, the supposed Father of our Lord, had Children by a former Wife. The first Miracle that ever Je­sus did, was to do Honour to a Wedding—Marriage was in the World before Sin, and has been in all Ages of the World the greatest Antidote against it, and although Sin hath sowr'd Marriage, and stuck the Man's Head with Cares, and the Womans Bed with Sorrow in the Pro­duction of Children, yet these are but throws of Life and Glory; and she shall be saved in Child-bearing, if she be found in Faith and Righteous­ness.—So that Marriage is the proper Scene of Piety and Patience, of the Duty of Parents, and the Charity of Relatives; here Kindness is expanded, and Love is united, and made firm as a Center—Marriage is the Nursery of Hea­ven, [Page 238] the Virgin sends Prayers to God, but she carries but one Soul to him; but the state of Marriage fills up the Numbers of the Elect, and hath in it the Labour of Love, the Delicacies of Friendship, the Blessing of Society, and the Uni­on of Hands and Hearts.

And as Marriage is the Nursery of Heaven, so 'tis the Mother of the World; it preserves Kingdoms, fills Cities, Churches, and Heaven it self.—Thus (Dorinda) have I shewn that the state you are enter'd into, is Divine in its Institution—Sacred in its Union—Holy in the Mystery—Honourable in its Appellative—Religious in its Imployments—It is Ad­vantage to the Societies of Men, and Holiness to the Lord, and is certainly preferable to a single Life.

But Dorinda, as happy a State as Marriage is, Argus and you will be ever disappointed in't, if it ben't intirely conducted, and over-ruled by Religion: None are Happy in Marriage, but those that invite Christ to the Wedding, this you did not do, as is clear by your Billet Doux; but I write to you now, as supposing you a True Penitent, so shall adventure to give ye Rules, for your Happy-Living in a Married-state. The Rules I shall Name, shall be only those that relate to Argus and you, in Conjun­ction, I an't so foolish to think, that all the Du­ty lies on the Weaker-Vessel, 1 Pet. 3. [...]. or so Barbarous to expect the Wife should prove obliging, ex­cept the Husband be so too—the Obligation is mutual;—and therefore prescribe nothing (in the following Rules) that I think too bitter for Argus's swallow—

Before I give any Rules I premise this, that [...]is the Duty of all that intend to Marry, seri­ously [Page 239] to read the Form of Matrimony, least when they come to the Church, they Answer there to what they had not consider'd before-hand, and then no wonder if they don't Practice a Duty of a larger extent then they apprehended. But to proceed to the Rules, that Argus and you must walk by, if you'd be yet happy in your Married-state.

And the first is, that once a Week you read, and digest the 5th of the Ephesians, from the 22d verse to the end of the Chapter—All Scripture is given for your Instruction; and sure I am, all that Marry before they Love at the rate here described, commit a very great Sin, and can't expect the Blessing of God on their Marriage.—'Tis the Blessing of God Crowns the Wed­ding, and they that Marry without it (be they ne're so Rich) are but two tied together to make one mother miserable. All that intend to Wed, would do well to consider, that they who enter into the State of Marriage cast a Dye of the greatest Contingency; and yet of the greatest Interest in the World, next to the last throw for Eternity—Life, or Death, Felicity or a lasting Sorrow, are in the Power of Marriage—A Woman indeed ventures most, for she hath no Sanctuary to retire to from an Evil Husband; she must dwell upon her Sorrow, and hatch the Eggs which her own Folly or Infelicity hath produ­ced; and she is more under it, because her Tor­mentor hath a Warrant of Prerogative; and the Woman may complain to God as Subjects do of Tyrant Princes; but otherwise she hath no Ap­peal in the Causes of Unkindness. And though the Man (who Marries a Shrew, or such a Wan­ton as Dorinda was) can run from many Hours of his Sadness, yet he must return to it again, and when he sits among his Neighbours, he [Page 240] members the Viper that lies in his Bosom, and he sighs deeply, as well he may.

It is the unhappy chance of many Men, find­ing great Inconveniences in a single Life, to rush into Marriage, in hopes to remove their Trou­bles, and there they enter into Fetters, as the Staggs in the Greek Epigram, and are bound to Sorrow by the Cords of a Mans, or Womans Peevishness; and the worst of the Evil is, they are to thank their own Follies, for they fell in­to the Snare by entering an improper Way; Christ and the Church were no Ingredients in their Choice; but as the Indian Women enter into Fol­ly for the Price of an Elephant, and think their Crime warrantable; so many chuse for a Rich-Fortune (like Eriphyle the Argive, prefer Gold before a good Man) and shew themselves to be less than Money by over-valuing That, to all the Content and Happiness of Life; but I Bless God, I an't of this sordid Temper, for I don't (nor never did) think, that the Happiness of a Mans Life, consists in the Abundance of what he posses­ses; but in Gods giving him a Heart to make a Sober-use of what he lends him (I say lends him) for we are all Stewards to the Great Lord of Heaven and Earth.

And Dorinda, as He, or She, deserve to be disappointed that Marry for Money, so as very [...] Fool is he, that chuses for Beauty; who chu­ses for one (as a Wit express it) whose Eyes are Witty, and her Soul Sonsual. It is an ill Band of Affections to tie two Hearts together, by a little Thred of Red and White. These Dorinda will Love no longer, but till the next Ague comes, and are Fond of each other but at the Chance of Fancy, or the Small-Pox, or Child-bearing, or Care, or Time, or any thing that can destroy a pretty Fl [...]wer.

But it is the basest of all, when Lust is the Pa­ranymph [Page 241] and solicites the Suit, makes the Con­tract, and joins the Hands. This Dorinda was your own Case, and is commonly the Effect of the former Folly; according to the Proverb—At first for his fair Checks and comely Beard, the Beast is taken for a Lyon, but at last he is turn­ed to a Dragon, or a Leopard, or a Swine. That which at first is Beauty on the Face, may prove Lust in the Manners. He, or She, that looks too curiously upon the Beauty of the Body, looks too low, hath Flesh and Corruption in his Heart, and is judged Sensual and Earthly in his Desires. Sure I am, no Marriage will prove Happy, that is not Blessed with Religious Affections.

Another Thing in which I conceive Dorinda and Argus to be equally concerned (if they'd be Hap­py in Wed-lock) is, To avoid as much as possible all Offences of each other in the beginning of their new Honey-Moon (for so I may call it, Dorinda ha­ving run astray) every little Thing can blast an Infant-Blossom, and an unkind Word or careless Carriage, is apt to give the Alarm at the be­ginning of this Union—People generally at first are watchful, and observant, careful and in­quisitive, and even the smaller failures of Chance or Weakness, are then Interpreted as want of Love, and usually affright the unexperienced Man, or Woman, who make unequal Conje­ctures, and Fancy mighty Sorrows by the Pro­portions of any new and early Unkindness—Plutarch compares a new Marriage to a Vessel be­fore the Hoops are on, every little thing dis­solves the Union of its Parts, but when the Joints are stiffen'd, and the whole tied toge­ther by a firm compliance, and proportionate bend­ing, it is then hardly dissolved without Violence or Burning: In like manner (Dorinda) when once the Hearts of a Man and Wife are endear'd [Page 242] and hardned by a mutual Confidence, Compli­ance and Experience (longer then Artifice or Pretence can last) I word it so, for Infirmi­ties do not manifest themselves in the first Scenes, but in the Succession of a long Socie­ty, there is then no great Danger; and there are many things Past, and some things Present, which will dash all little Unkindnesses in Pieces.

And therefore (Dorinda) in the next Place, I think Argus and you should be very careful (at your first Reconcilation especially) to stifle all little Differences, and to cut them down as fast as they spring up; for if they are suffered to grow, they render the Society troublesome by their Numbers, and the Affections become loose by an habitual Vneasiness—Some People are more vext with a Fly, then with a Wound; nor can Reason be always upon the Guard, in the fre­quent little Accidents of a Family, but trifling Troubles, if often repeated, will be apt to render you restless, and betray you to Passion; and at last to beget an indifferency, if not a Disgust and Aversation.

Lastly, Dorinda, if you'd (be happy in Marri­age and would) have Argus Love ye again, be extreamly watchful against all curious Distincti­ons of—Mine and Thine—for this has caused all the Laws, Suits, and Wars in the World. Let them who have but one Person, have also but one Interest; for when either of them begins to impropriate, it is like a Swelling in the Flesh, which draws more then its share, and what it [...]eeds on turns to a Bile, and a Sore. Dorinda you shine by your Husbands Honour, and will cer­tainly be darkned if he suffer an Eclipse; and there­fore 'tis your Interest, as well as Duty (if Argus be kind and loving) to contribute to his case and welfare; the Vse and Imployment of what [Page 243] Man and Wife possess, should be common to both their Necessities, and in this there is no other Difference of Right, but that the Man has the Dispensation of all, and may (as a late Au­thor expresses it) keep it from his Wife, as a Governour of a Town may keep it from the right Owner; he hath the Power, but not Right to do so.

But (Dorinda) you have nothing to fear here, for if Argus be a kind Husband, you may do with him what ye List; or if Argus Rules, 'tis because you would obey, and in so obeying you Rule as much as he; for my own share, I have been Married twice, and was ever so much for a mu­tual Endearment (and against the vile Distin­ctions of Mine and Thine, that I could never ap­prove, except there were Reason for it) of keeping of two Purses: No! She that keeps my Heart, shall keep my Purse—Two Keys to a Till, suppo­ses a distrust on one side or other; and sure I am, Distrust is the Bane of Love: And Dorinda, when it once appears (but I hope you'll ne're more give occasion for't); farewel to the Com­forts of Matrimony. 'Twas such a Trust as this, I repos'd in my first Wife; and therefore she loved me to that Degree, that I judged it my Duty to settle her presently in all I had (for 'twas she, and not her Fortune I Married,) that I might give at the Rate I loved her; nay, I was so desirous to requite her Tenderness, that I was scarce contented with giving all; but grudged (as I once told her) my Fun [...]ral Expences, my very Shroud and Grave, that I might adde to her Future Store—Dorinda, I need not press ye to believe this, for Men in their Last-Wills appear just as they are, they here grow open and plain hearted, and dare not depart with their Hands to a Lye; and as this was my Carriage to [Page 244] my First Wife, so 'tis no more than I owe to This, or if possible, a greater Tenderness.

Thus, Dorinda, have I shewn ye (from my own Experience) how Argus and you may fall a love­ing again, and be yet happy in a Married-state; and if ye follow the Rules I have sent ye, I shall think my Labour very well bestowed.

And now Dorinda, having brought ye to Ar­gus, I leave ye in his tender Arms, where (and not in the Arms of other Men) you should desire to Live and Dye.

I shall only adde, I don't desire your An­swer, either to this or my other Letters, for you see by my way of Writing, 'tis your Reforma­tion is all that's desired by

Your Faithful Adviser, &c. And so Farewel.

Thus Sir, I have Entertain'd Dorinda, which I hope may have some good Effect upon her; if not, I have discharged my self of what I thought was Incumbent upon me in this Case. I am

Your's, &c. John Dunton.

Remarks on J. D's Third Letter to the Citizens-Wife.


I Have received your Third to Dorinda, who I suppose will scarcely thank you for your [Page 245] Good Advice; if she bestow the Perusal upon it, which I much doubt. In my Opinion you have over-done the Matter, your first was enough, your second by Consequince too much, and your third must needs be superfluous. I am satisfied, Dorinda is of my mind, so that there's two to one against you. As many Men, and as few Reproofs as can be, suits Women of her Temper best. Did her Husband know you, I am certain he would think you deserv'd a Pair of Gloves, and a Wedding Dinner, better than the Parson that Join'd him and his unfaithful Dorinda in the Bands of Matri­mony; for I am satisfied, he did not read her a Lecture so long by one half; and If I say, not half so much to the Purpose neither, there are Peo­ple in the World will vouch for the Truth of it.

I think the Method you took with Dorinda ve­ry Genuine and Natural, first to lay before her the Wickedness of defiling the Marriage-Bed, and then to endeavour to possess her with honourable Thoughts of it. But I am of the mind, she will give an equal Ear to both, that is to say, she will not hear one Word of either. If her Husband had been an Argus as you suppose, I can't see how she could have found out a Place, secret enough to write her Billet Doux in; and I am verily of Opinion, except he be one of those whom Iuvenal calls Doctus spectare Lacunar, he must needs think the Peacecks Tail a much finer Ornament than the Rams-Head; but perhaps he finds it to be true, what Aesop says, that it is easier to take a Bag of Fleas set them a Grazing all day, and gather them into their Bag at night again, than to keep Guard over an Vnchaste Woman; and being over-watch'd, his Hundred Eyes fell asleep all at once, and so Do­rinda took the opportunity of making a Sally.

If your Third Letter have so much Influence, [Page 246] as to create in her a better Opinion of her Hus­band, and make her more faithful to his Bed; then he may sleep securely with Two Hundred Eyes, if he had them, and I am sure, it is no fault of yours, if it does not.

I shall not trouble you with long Remarks upon your Letter, only your hint of Ioseph's having been a Widdower, when he was Espoused to the Virgin; puts me in the Head to ask you this Question, Whether his Hose which they shew at Aix la Chappelle, be of the first or second Wives making? And in which of their Times it was he gave the Hem, when Playing the Carpenter, which the Church of Rome has got pent up in a Bottle, as a precious Relick?

I Congratulate the Happiness of your Wife in so Chaste an Husband; nor do I see how she can be quits with you by less than an Ocean of Love and Respect. She had best spit in her Hand and take fast hold, for if she should drop, you have magnified Widdowers so much in the Person of Joseph, that all the Virgins in the Town can do no less than proffer themselves to you to call out one of their number for your Third. Yet I am not willing to think that any thing of this is at the bottom of your Plot, I hope you are no such designing Man. I shall take my leave of you, and heartily Wish, that every Dorinda may meet with such a Philaret. And that all the good Women in the City, had such Husbands as your self. I am.


SOME ACCOUNT OF MY Conversation IN IRELAND. In a LETTER TO AN Honourable Lady. WITH Her Answer to it.

LONDON: Printed (for the Author,) and are to be Sold by A Baldwin, near the Oxford. Arms in War­wick-Lane, and by the Booksellers in Dublin 1699.

Some Account of my Conversa­tion in Ireland: In a Letter to an Honourable Lady, &c.


I AM extreamly satisfied to have the Honour of knowing you so well, as to know that you hate to be Flatter'd; and so hope you will not think me guilty of that Crime, when I profess to you, That I esteem the Favour of having a Correspondence with you, to be One of the Chief­est Blessings of my Life. And therefore I ought to take all Opportunities to shew my self worthy of it: which I could not be, should I suffer my Repu­tation to be Attack'd, without Defending it: And having met with some Unhandsome Treatment, from a Person in Dublin, to whom I never offer'd the Least Injury, (unless he thinks telling him the Truth to be such) I am willing to have my CAVSE TRYD AT YOVR BAR; who, as you will not Favour the Guilty, so neither will you Condemn the Innocent. And whether I am such or not, THE PRECEDING SCVFFLE will give you the clearest Idea. But since no Man's Profession will Justifie him, without a Correspondent Practice, I have design'd this Letter to give you some account of my CONVERSATION (or Method of Living) whilst I was in Ireland.

[Page 304] The occasion of my first going into this Kingdom, is so well known, and manifestly lawful, that I shall not so much as hint at it in this place: But how my Conversation has been, while I resided there, is the task that lies now upon me to set forth in a true Light; which I will do with such sincerity, that I will even dissect my Breast to you; and at the same time make (not only Your Ladyship, but) the WHOLE WORLD my Confessor: But still, with this Restri­ction, as far as my frail Nature and weak Memory will permit me; and where that's defective, if any where Invention has supply'd it, I hope you'll excuse it. For Madam, you'll find (at least they will that are touch'd in the following Pages) that

Whatsoe're of [...]iction I bring in,
'Tis so like Truth, it seems at least a kin.

Madam, this ACCOVNT OF MY CONVER­SATION was all writ in hasse; and most of it at Pat's Coffee-house in Dublin, as People were dinning my Ears with News, or some Query's about my Auction: So that if neither Method nor Stile is what might be expected from me (when I address to you) I hope to make some amends in my Summer Ram­ble, which I shall dedica [...]e to your Ladyship, as an acknowledgment of the Honour you did me, in cor­responding with me whilst in Ireland; and for your attempts since to quiet my Mind upon the loss of one of my best Friends (for I may call D—e so, [...] high Birth, Vertue, Wit, and Constancy, can intitle to that Character.) But to proceed to the ACCOVNT OF MY CONVERSATION.

This Madam, (for Methods sake) will best be comprehended under Two General Heads; viz. Th [...] Discharge of my Duty towards God, and towards Man: These two contain the whole of a Christian: And if [...] take the Great Apostle of the Gentiles for my Guide. I hope I shall not wander out of my way: For he has declar'd, this was his care, to keep a Con­science void of offence both towards God, and towards Man.

[Page 305] The first of these Heads, which respects God, com­prehends all the Duties of Religion; which is a thing in this Age admits of so many several Modes and Forms, that without some further Explanation, it is difficult to know what is meant by it. For a Man can now no sooner speak of Religion, but the next question is, Pray what Religion are you of [...] I need not tell you, Madam, That Religion in general, is a sense of our Duty to God, and the W [...]rship we owe to him, according to the best of our Vnderstandings, in order to the obtaining of a blessed Immortality. And this likewise consists in two parts; First, in its Prin­ciples; and Secondly, in putting those Principles in Practice; For Principles without Practice, [...]each Men [...] to be Hypocrites, but never make 'em Christi­ans. They may indeed by a Profession of Religion, deceive others; but without the Practice of it, they more fatally deceive themselves. I will therefore, Madam, in the first place, shew you what my Prin­ciples are, and then give you an Account of what my Practice was in Dublin.

If then you ask me (Madam) what Perswasion I [...] of? My Answer is, I am that which the Disciples were called at Antioch; that is, I am a Christian: a Follower of Christ, a Servant of God, the Wor [...]d [...] Master, and my own Man. I do not think Religion to consist so much in Nam [...]s as Things: Christ's Church is not limited to any Nation or Party; but ex­tends to all Places, is propagated in all Ages, and con­taineth all saving Truth; and in this S [...]nce is Vniver­sal or Cath [...]lick; and therefore I love a Good Man, of whatever Profession; or by what Name [...] Title soever he's distinguish'd. A good Navigator can sail with any Wind; and why shou'd not a Christi­an be as dextrous to improve all Opportunities that may facilitate his passage to the heavenly Ca [...]an? The various lines that are made from different parts of the Circumference, may all tend to one and the same Center. I have a large Charity, and exercis [...] it to all in whom I see Goodness and Vertue shew it self, whatever their particular Perswasions are. And conformable to this Opinion, was my Practice in [Page 306] Dublin. One Sunday I heard Dr. Stern, another Mr. Sinclare, a third Mr. Searl, a fourth Mr. Boyse, a fifth Mr. Weld, a sixth the Anabaptist in Francis-street. And when William Penn came thither, I went with the crowd to hear him: For when I think of George Keith in London, and William Dobbs in Dub­lin (Two Persons of Great Sense, and as strict Ju­stice) I must think that some Quakers are Christi­ans; and, for ought I know, we contend with 'em about Words, while we think the same thing: Sure I am, their Celebrated Light within, is what we call the Dictates of Conscience; and if we could but get 'em to Baptism and the Lord's Supper, we should begin to call 'em Brethren. And thus you see, by my going one Sunday to one Perswasion, and a se­cond to another, that I can go to Heaven with any Wind, and with any Name; and shall think it an hap­piness to go into Canaan, tho it were through a Red Sea.

(Madam,) 'Tis true I was born to travel, and am now pursuing my Destiny: but if I wander the Length of the Map, and never see you here, yet I hope we shall meet in Heaven at last: What tho we di [...]fer in our Way thither? (I hope we pardon one another). Men go to China both by the Streights and by the Cape. The Good Men of Ireland (such as Bishop King, and Mr. Boyse) perhaps, contend about words, when they heartily think the same thing. But whatever the Opinions of others are in Polemi­cal Matters, yet as to my self, I dare boldly say, I am, or should be, an Honest Man; for Vertue is my Business; my Writing is my Recreation: (which made Iris say, she'd bury me with a Pen in my Hand.) God is my Father, the Church my Mother, (I need not say this or that Church, if I am sound in the [...] Points) the Saints my Brethren, and all that need [...] my Friends; and I am likewise too, a Friend to my self, for shall I have it, and want Necessaries? Wh [...] though I am now in a far Country, yet I have in my self (as Randolph says) an Houshold-government; and where e're I go, do intend to live,

[Page 307]
Lord of my self, accountable to none,
But to my Conscience, and my God alone.

Now, Madam, give me leave to say, however Romantick some may think this to be, That I have found (notwithstanding my many Infirmities) more Peace and Satisfaction in the discharge of a good Conscience, than in all the Pleasures this World can give.

In the next place, Madam, I shall give you a short Diary of my Practice in Ireland, with respect to Re­ligion; but I will first give you a Relation of a Ren­counter I had with a sort of Atheist I met in Dublin.

I need not tell ye, Madam, That Atheism and Ir­religion abounds every where, (for your last Letter suggested as much) and the cause is apparent; for when Men have given themselves up so long to the Conduct of their own Lusts, that they have Reason to fear the Justice of God due to 'em for their Sins, they would fain hope to secure themselves, by deny­ing his Being: I can't say this Lewd Fellow I met in Dublin, absolutely deny'd the Being of a God; (and I much question whether there be a profest Atheist in the World;) yet I may say his Discourses (as well as his manner of living) had so much of Atheism in 'em, as they made me tremble: I won't insert his Atheistical Discourses, for they are better forgot than publish'd; but I'll send you some of the Arguments I us'd to refute his Atheistical Notions: Whether they satisfy'd him or not, I can't say, for he made little reply: I am sure my design was good; but whether I argued as I ought, I leave you, Madam, to judge; what I advanc'd, was to this Effect, viz.

‘There are two ways for us to attain to the Know­ledge of God, (or a First Principle) by whom the World was made; the one is Natural, the other, Supernatural: That which I call Supernatural, I what God has revealed in his Word, wherein he has given us the clearest Idea of himself, as he by whom all things were made: But because they who deny [Page 308] the Being of a God, do generally make a scoff as his Word, I will only insist upon that which is Na­tural. Nature informs us that there was a Sove­reign Being, the Author and Preserver of all things: This Truth I can see with my Eyes: when I either behold the Earth, view the Heavens, or reflect up­on my self: When I see such things as are not made but by a Superior Cause, I am obliged to ac­knowledge and adore a Being which cannot be made, and which made all things else. When I consider my self, I am sure that I could not be with­out a beginning; therefore it follows, That a Per­son like me, could not give me to be; and by con­sequence, this puts me upon seeking out a First Being; who having had no Beginning, must be the Original of all other things. When my Reason conducts me to this First Principle, I conclud [...] evi­dently that this Being cannot be limited, because Limits suppose a Necessity of Production and De­pendance: And if unlimited, it must be a Sove­reign and Incomprehensible Being: And this pre­vents all curious Enquirers from comprehending what God is; For who can define that which is Vn­limited, or comprehend that which is Incomprehensible: One must be blind indeed, to be ignorant of a First Principle; but one must be infinite, like him, to be able to speak exactly of him: For the most that can be said by us, though it may perhaps content the Curious, yet it can never satisfie the Rational Soul.’

This, Madam, was the Substance of what I spake on that Occasion; which, as I said before, I leave to your Censure. And to be yet more free with you, I have those awful Thoughts of the Divine Being, that I would never think of him, but with the most pro­found Veneration; and therefore always choose to think of him rather in the Abstract, than the Concrete; for if I think him Good, my finit [...] thought is ready to terminate that Good in a conceived Subject; and if I conceive him Great, my bounded Con [...]t is apt to [...]ast him into a comprehensible Figure; I would there­fore [Page 309] conceive him a diffused Goodness without Quality, and represent him an [...]ncomprehensible Greatness without Quantity—And therefore I choos [...] (as Mr. Ellis advises) to sh [...] all gross Representations of God, or [...]ikening him so much [...] in my Thought, to any Creature; I am not to Worship him after my own Con­ceit or Fancy, but according to the Rules he hath giv [...]n in his Word.—And to speak my Thoughts of Religion in a few Words, I look upon that to be the best Religion, which is pure and peaceable, and tak [...]s no pleasure in the Expence of Blood; whose Principles are consonant to the Word of God; and which takes most from the Creature, and gives most to the Creator: This is that Religion which I assure my self is the Right, which I will endeavour to practise while I Live, and rely on when I Die.

And this brings me to (what I promisd) an Ac­count of my Practice in Dublin; which I will give you in the Form of a Diary.

I freely acknowledge, Madam, That the Sacred Oracles of the Old and New Testaments, do sufficient­ly instruct us in the Performance of all those Duties which God requires of us. But tho the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments are the very Word of God, which holy Men of God spake and wrote as they were moved by the Holy Ghost, and contain all things necessary to salvation, and are the standing Sealed Rule of Faith and Life; yet I believe that every one has some particular Mode of his own, by which he steers the Course of his Devotions; especially as to what he performs in his Closet.

But to proceed to my Diary: And here I shall first acquaint you how I spend Saturday.

Saturday is usually a Day of Hurry and Business, with the generality of Men▪ and as the same winds up the Week, so do People their Affairs: But for my own part, I confess, I never affect multiplicity of Business on that Day; but on the contrary, have frequently shun'd it, tho' I have observ'd it has of­ten fallen to my share upon these Days to have a great deal; for last Saturday I was so taken up with Ad­justing [Page 310] some Controversies that did arise concerning the Affairs of my Auction, that I had hardly leisure to take my Dinner; however they were terminated so much the more to my satisfaction, by how much all Parties were brought to acquiesce in my determina­tion. By this you see, Madam, I am no Sabbata­rian; but for those that are, I am so far from having any hard Thoughts of them, that I both pity and respect them; for I can never believe 'tis an Error of Wilfulness, but of Ignorance only in them: and whereas I do understand divers of them, at least, make a Conscience of keeping both Days, because they would be sure to be right; I think I have just reason to honour them for it, and cannot choose but think much better of them, than those who totally deny the Morality of the Sabbath day.

I confess, Madam, I do not remember to have read any thing material concerning the Controversie about the said Days, and that I am as much at a loss to know certainly when our Christian Sabbath begins, when there is such a variation in the Site of Places and Countries; and that now we experimentally find, where 'tis Day in one place, 'tis Night in another. And, Madam, as I know of no Person living, with whom I can so well satisfie my Scruples, and inform my Understanding than your self, who are so well skill'd both in Polemical and Practical Divinity, so I humbly request your Sentiments in this Case, promi­sing to make your Practice my own.

But, Madam, having told you how I spend Saturday, I am next to inform you how I spend the Sabbath: For in the Practice of Religion, I look upon the Sanctifying of the Lord's Day, to be a principal part. Judge Hales recommends to his Children a very strict Observation of the Lord's Day; and tells 'em, That he had always found that his Worldly Affairs thriv'd either more or less, (the following Week) as he had kept the Sabbath. And therefore on Sunday I usually took leave of my Bed sooner than on other Days; and strive to dismiss as much as I can, all Worldly Affairs out of my Thoughts; tho I have found 'em, I acknowledge, [Page 311] (like the Flies that spoil the Apothecaries Ointment) [...] most unseasonably thrusting themselves in.

The Publick Worship of God, being the principal Duty of this Day, I made it my Practice to bow my Knees before my Maker in private, before I went thither, and there beg his Blessing on the Publick Ordinances; and previous thereto, have us'd to read some Portion of the Holy Scriptures; being told therein, that every thing is Sanctified by the Word of God, and Prayer; which is so much the Advantage of a Christian, that I always thought, never Prayer rightly made, was made unheard, or heard ungrant­ed: And I believe that Prayer is rightly made, which is made to God in the Name of Christ, in Faith, and offer'd up with Humility.

When I come to the House of God, (I mean the place of his Worship, whether it be a Church, or a Meeting-House) I always keep my self uncover'd whilst I continue there: For as Holiness becomes his House, so does a Behaviour mix'd with Reverence and Godly Fear, in all that wait upon him. And therefore during the Time of Prayer▪ I either Kneel or Stand up, (believing the humblest Posture to be best, when I am invocating the Majesty of Heaven) and fixing my Eyes upwards, I endeavour to apply every part of God's Worship to my own Conscience, and the present State of my own Soul.

I love those Sermons best, that check my Conscience for Sin, and cheer it with applying Gods Mercy; be­ginning with the Law, and ending with the Gospel; searching the Wound first, and pouring in the Oyl of Consolation afterwards: And those I reckon the worst Preachers, that sooth M [...]n up in their Sins; per­swading Men they are good Christians, when they don't know what 'tis to be Born again.

Yet I don't love to be Pragmatical, in censuring of Ministers; I endeavour, like the Industrious Bee to suck Honey from the Flowers of Devotion; and not like the Spider, to convert what was intended for Nourishment, into Poyson. If any thing drops from the Pulpit, which I think not so per­tinent, I cover it with the Mantl [...] of Love, and [Page 312] strive to remember that which is better: For as the Divine Herbert observes; If the P [...]rson be dull, God Preaches to the Hearers, a Lecture of Pati­ence.

In the Singing of Psalms, I labour more to have my Soul inflam'd with Love and Zeal, than to have my Spirits cheer'd either by the Harmony of Voices, or sound of the Organ; and cou'd heartily wish that Sternhold and Hopkins's Psalms (tho'well enough 150 Years ago) were now remov'd, and Mr. Tate's Tran­slation put in their place.—As to the Receiving the Holy Sacrament, it has ever been my Opinion, that whoever participates of that Solemn Ordinance (lest he Eats and Drinks Damnation) shou [...]d retire himself from the World for a Day at least, [...] by a strict re­collection of his Actions, and serious examination of his own Life (attended with Fasting and Prayer) en­deavour so to prepare himself, that he may come as a Worthy Receiver to the Tab [...]e of the Lord, that so by the Strength he receives by that Spiritual Viaticum, he may be inabled to run with Pa [...]ience the Race that is set before him: and therein (through the Assistance of Divine Grace) so to run as to obtain the Prize.

After the Publick Duties of the Day are over, I re­turn to my Chamber, and enter into my Closet, spending some time therein, in Meditating on what I have heard, and in reiterated Addresses to the Throne of Grace, to follow it with his Blessing: Well know­ing, that tho Paul may Plant, and Apollo Water, yet it is God that teaches me to profit. And if in the Even­ing (as sometimes there does) a Friend comes to vi­sit me; I spend my time with him in discoursing on Divine things; whereby our Hearts are warmed, and our Affections stirred up to praise God for his Good­ness; and hereby find the Benefit of the Communion of Saints, which is too much neglected, tho' an Ar­ticle of the Creed. Sure I am all the Members of the Mystical Body of Christ, have Fellowship with the Father and Son, by one Holy Spirit; with A [...]gels in their Love, Care and Ministries, with the Saints in Heaven in their Love and Prayers, and with one another in the same Faith, Hope, Word and Sacrament; and [Page 313] therefore shou'd often confer about Heavenly things, holding the Vnity of the Spirit in the Bond of Peace.

The Operations of the Mind being in their own Nature much more fatigueing than the Labours of the Body; it's my usual Custom on Sunday Night, to go somewhat sooner to Bed than ordinary: However, I durst not adventure to go and compose my self to such a rest as so much resembles Death it self (and from which many have awaked in Eternity) with­out recommending my self to the Care and Protecti­on of the Almighty; and to this I have endeavour­ed always to have the greater regard, since b [...]sides the Divine Authority, which plainly injoyns it, it's a Duty so clearly manifested even by the light of Na­ture, that 'tis a wonder almost that any should neg­lect it. I hope you do not, Madam, take this as either Dictating or Reproving, when 'tis never meant so by me, who have justly entertained quite other Conceptions of you; and am so far from supposing my self▪ Pattern in any respect for your Imitation, that I should think my self in danger of running into the notion of a Perfectionist, if I could but come near you.

This Madam, is the Method in which I wou'd spend the Sabbath; and is what I have endeavour'd to practise; tho' I must own, to my shame, with so much weakness, and so many Infirmit [...]es, that it seems rather an Account of what I ought to do, than of what I have done: For tho' 'tis my Duty to watch nar­rowly over my Heart, Affections, and Thoughts, and all my Outward Actions, and in a more particular man­ner shou [...]d look upon the Sanctifying of the Lord's Day to be a Principal part of Religion, yet I must own I have not been so careful as I ought, to San­ctifie the Lord in my Heart on that Day, or perform some Duties that were incumbent upon me. I have not made [...] my Fear and my Dread, as I ought; but have indulg'd my self in Sloth, spoken my own Words, and thought my own Thoughts, contrary to God's Holy Will and Commandment.

I must also accuse my self of being too negligent [...] Preparing my self to attend upon God in his So­lemn [Page 314] and Publick Appointments, rushing often into his Presence without that due Preparation which he requires.

Neither have I behav'd my self in his House with that Fear and Reverence as I ought, nor heard God's Word with that Attention, which so Awful a Message call'd for; nor improv'd it to my Spiritual Nourish­ment, as I ought to have done.

I am also sensible, that I have been more ready to [...]ind fault with the Minister, than to obey the Message he has brought; and have not spoken of other Men and their Affairs, with that Care, Charity, and A [...] ­ [...]ection, as I should have done, but rather have dis­cover'd their Defects.

I likewise acknowledge, That in singing of Psalms, I have not sung with that Grace in my Heart which God's Word requires; and have had my Ears more tickled with the Harmony of the Musick, than my Soul inflam'd with Zeal to sing the Praises of God.

I do also confess, I have not had such Sorrow and Repentance for my Sins past, as I ou [...]t; nor have used such Diligence in the daily Examining of my Conscience, and Amendment of my Life, as I should have done.

I have also reason to be humbled, that I han't of­fer'd up my Prayers unto God, with ala [...]ity and fervour of Spirit as I shou'd have done, but have been often Distracted, Slothful, and Cold in my Devotions.

I also acknowledge I have been Proud and Vain-glorious in my Words and Actions.

I have not thought so humbly of my self, as I shou [...]d have done; nor kept my Senses in the House of God, with that care as became a Christian, es­pecially my Eyes and my Ears.

For all which, and many more Errors of my Life, which through Neglect and Inadvertency, may have escap'd my Cognizance, I humbly beg Pardon and Forgiveness of the Father of Mercies.

Thus (Madam) with the Pelican, have I dissected my Heart, to shew you where the Defects of Hu­manity reside.

[Page 315] I have here (as I told you before) made the whole World (but principally your self) my Confessor: I will only add as to this Point, That if my Tongue and Heart agree not in this Confession, my Confession will be of no value; he that confesses with his Tongue, and wants Confession in his Heart, is either a vain Man, or an Hypocrite; and he that confes [...]es with his Heart, and wants it in his Tongue, is either Proud or Timorous.

Madam, having given you some Account how I endeavour'd to spend the Sabbath in Dublin, I shall [...] inform y [...] how I spent my time on the Week-Days.

I have told you (in the Account I gave you of spending Sunday) that 'twas my Practice to go to Bed sooner on those Nights than at other times. I shall further add, That I am no sooner lain down on Sunday Night, but I compose my self to rest, being so far from being terrified with Apparitions, Spec­trums, and the like, as I have heard some have been; who for that very Reason, durst never lie alone; that I humbly Adore th [...] Majesty of Heaven for it, I fear nothing but God and Sin.

When I awake, I am transported to find my self so sprightly every way; which made me often won­der, what an excellent thing Sleep was; considering it as an inestimable Jewel; for an hour of which, if a Tyrant laid down his Crown, he should not be able to purchase it▪ That it was that Golden Chain which tyed Health and our Bodies together; and that while sleeping, none complained of Pains, Wants, Cares, or Captivities. And that though the Story of Endymion's Nap for Threescore and Fifteen Years, and then awaking as lively as if he had slept but six hours, be in it self but a meer Fable, yet the Moral is good, and plainly indicates the Necessity and Usefulness of Rest to our Natures, as instituted by the God of Nature Himself.

But to proceed in my Journal. In the Morning, as soon as the Cinque-Ports are open, I send up some Private Ejaculations to Heaven, giving God thanks▪ that my Eyes are open to see the Light of another [Page 316] Day. After this I get up, and make my most So­lemn Addresses to the Divine Majesty; remembrin [...] Randolph's Words.

First Worship God; He that forgets to Pray,
Bids not himself Good Morrow, nor Good Day.

In these sorts of Duties it has been my con [...]ant Practice to be rather short and fervent, than long and indifferent. And as we ought to make use of every Just and Proper Motive to excite us to [...] Duty, I will humbly say, I have been the, mo [...] constant in my practic [...] of this Morning-Duty, as principally out of a sense of my bounden Duty to­wards God, so also from a consideration of the Ex­ample of a Person of Honour (I mean the late Lord Delamere) who has left it upon Record to his Chil­dren, That whenever he hapned, which was very sel­dom, to omit his Duty in this Kind, tho upon never so urgent an occasion, he always found some cross Inter­ruptions and disappointments in [...] business of that day.

Being now, Madam, to Sally out into the Ci­ty, under a n [...]cessity of making my self more par­ticularly known, in respect to the affairs I went about, I will presume to suppose you might be in­quisitive to understand what sort of Fig [...]re [...] pro­per for me to make. As to my Cloaths, I confess I was never over-curious, affecting always to appear more plain and cleanly, than gay and fini [...]al. The first Suit of Apparel that ever mortal man wore, came neither from the Mercer's Shop, nor the Mer­chant's Warehouse; and yet Adam's Bill would have been sooner taken, than a Knight's Bond now. The Silk [...]Worms had something else to do in those days, than to set up Looms, to become Free of the Weavers. Our old Grandsire's Breeches were not worth near the Value of K. Stephen's Hose, that cost but a poor Noble; Adams Holy-day Suit be­ing made of no better Stuff than plain Fig-leaves sowed together, and Ev [...] best Gown of the same piece. However, it was both necessary and conve­nient [Page 317] I should rather appear above than below my Quality; and as such I adventured to visit my Au­ction-Room.

In the various Emergencies of each day, I send up Ejaculatory Prayers to the God of all my Mercies, for his Direction, Blessing, and Conduct, as the matter does require, and as God has Commanded, who has bid me in all my Ways acknowledge him, and has gra­ [...]iously promis'd to direct my Paths.

In the Summer-time, I rose early in the Morning, and walk'd abroad into the Fields, finding those oc­casional Meditations (that such a walk presented me with Subjects for) proper to raise my Devotion to a greater Fervour; the Beauty of the Creation, lead­ing me by insensible steps to the Adoration of the Great Creator; the Source and Fountain of all Ex­cellencies. My walking along the Strand (a Mile from Dublin) gave me a pleasant prospect of the Sea, whose rowling Waves put me in mind of the Power of Omnipotence, who commands both the Winds and the Sea, saying, hitherto shalt thou come, but no further.

Leaving the Strand, I walk'd up a Hill into the Fields, by the side of Ballibaugh-lane (which I thought one of the best Prospects about Dublin) ha­ving Heaven, Earth, and Sea, in view at the same Moment, it represented to my thoughts the exceed­ing swiftness of spiritual Bodies, which (though far from Infinite, yet) have a motion quicker than the Eye, and swifter than our Thoughts. Thus by the things I have seen, I have been led into the Contem­plation of unseen things.

After about an hours Meditations in this Nature, my usual way was to return to my Chamber, unless a previous Appointment to meet any one about Busi­ness, hinder'd me. For though I had given the Con­duct of my Auctions to Mr. Wilde (who faithfully discharg'd the Trust I repos'd in him) yet was I not so freed from Business my self, as not to have Ap­plications made to me, both by the Binders, and other Persons.

[Page 318] After some time being in my Chamber, and having taken some Refreshment, I went to Dick's in Skinner-Row; where, after calling for a Dish of Coffee, my Questions were, Where's Darby? (he's Dick's Servant, but as honest a Lad as lives in Dublin [...] Is there a Pack­et come from England? And that which prompted me to that Enquiry, was, That I then had hopes of hear­ing from my Wife; distance and absence having so endear'd her to me, that I was never well but when I was writing to her, or hearing from her. But if a Packet came, and there was no Letter for me, it struck me into such a Melancholly (for fear Valeria was ill) that I could hardly reconcile my self to a good Humor all that day.

Madam, perhaps this will make you ask how long▪ I have been absent from her? Why Madam, not a­bove a Month, but am fallen already to telling the Minutes, and can scarce live at this cruel distance.

Methinks Madam, I cou'd pass through an Army of Beauties untoucht for one Glimpse of the Dear Valeria (for so I design to call her) 'Tis she I Love (for why should n't I) above Beauty, Wealth, and those Gaudy Trifles that dazzle the Eyes of others: ‘Neither can S—nor the worst of her Ene­mies, lessen my Opinion of her. Might I talk of her Piety (for she's too modest to hear it menti­on'd) I'd affirm she's so great a Scripturist that her Memory is a sort of Concordance, and the only one I have occasion for: And for the rest of her Life, 'tis nothing else but Devotion—And, which yet inhances her Value, she puts me not off with a common Friendship. 'Tis true, an indifferent Love wou'd ha'e been good enough for the Man that wou'd Court her with the blaze of Gold; to the Fop that has nothing but Honour or Beauty (that very Iest when found in a Man) to plead for him; I loved her for better Reasons, and therefore ask for a nearer Intimacy, a more lasting Happiness;

Sence is enough, where Sences only Wooe;
But Reasoning Lovers must have Reason too:
No wonder if the Body quickly cloy,
But Minds are infinit [...], and like themselves enjoy.

[Page 319] ‘A Woman of Sence (and such I find Val [...]ria) is a noble Prize, had she nothing but the Treasure of her Mind. All the World is pictur'd in a Soul▪ I am sure 'tis so, and that she acts new Charms in every thing. Then Madam, if you ever Marry, (and wou'd be happy in Wedlock) Marry for pure Love, for Valeria and I shall then be upon the square with ye, for we can love more in one day, than others do in all their Lives. She that marries a Husband on this Foundation, will be still finding new Charms either in his Words or Looks; for my own share, I do assert, whilst dignified sparks seek Diversion from their Misses, and devote their Lives to the idle pur­suit of a Hound or a Hawk, I thank God my Fancy is not so rambling, but I can confine it to One Dear Charmer, to whom (if she loves like me) I'll prove the most kind and tender thing in the World. In a word, I bend all the Faculties and Powers of my Bo­dy and Mind, to please and serve her; all I have, or can command, shall lye at her Feet; neither do I love at so cold a rate, as to desire any of the Goods of Fortune, but for her sake; and this loving Hu­mor (as Iris found in the like case) will not only last for a day, or a year, but to the end of her Life; then what shall I do for a sight of Valeria? but it can't be had, so that I am now constrain'd to have recourse to Philosophy, though it can supply me with no other Remedies but Patience; and the thoughts of this made me still duller than I was before; but as dull as it made me, before I left the Coffee-house for (tho' Love has led me out of the way▪) I don't forget I am still at Dicks. I look'd upon the Bill I publish'd for that Morning; then read what pub­lick Papers came from England in the last Packet; and from thence, my Stomack (the most infallible sort of Clock) having chim'd all in, I went to Din­ner; which was usually at a Cooks shop, a Widows in Crane-lane, whom I always found very ready to please me, and reasonable in her Demands; a thing which few of the Dublin Cooks are guilty of; for though both Flesh and Fish are sold cheap in their Markets, yet a Man may dine cheaper at a Cook [...] [Page 320] in London, I perceive in these Ordinaries, if a Man makes a Noise, laughs in fashion, and has a grim Face [...] to promise Quarreling, he shall be much ob­serv'd; but though this was none of my Talent, yet when I was set down to Dinner, I look'd as big, and eat as confidently as any of 'em all. When we had fill'd our Bellies, we all began to talk; and made as great a noise as Dover Court, for every Man was willing to say something, tho' 'twas nothing to the purpose, rather than be thought to have nothing to say. I had but very bad sawce to my Dinner this day; but that Madam, mistake me not, did not arise from the fault of the Cook where I was, but the Company; there being in a manner nothing that was serious among 'em; ones Talk was so lewd, as if he had liv'd in a Brothel-house; another was Pro­phaneness all over, nothing could be heard from him, but Railleries (if I may call them so) against seri­ous Godliness; one while in Jest, then again in Ear­nest; and sometimes, to shew his Wit (as I may well suppose) with an intermixture of both. Others there were, who seemingly little believed either Hea­ven or Hell, to reward or punish; or a Supreme and Righteous God and Judge of all; yet made no bones of calling the Dreadful and O [...]ipotent Being for a Witness to every [...]rivolous, and I may say, many a false thing; for he that makes no Conscience of Swearing, will, in my Opinion, make less of Lying; and it may well (if yet it be not) be made a Pro­verb, A Common Swe [...]r a Common Ly [...]r. Of all the Vices that are but too too rise among the Chil­dren of Men, this of [...] Swearing is certainly the most unaccou [...]ble one of any; something may be said for Lying, as that it's profitable; for Drink­ing, that it is for the good Company; of W [...]oreing, that it is natural for Kind [...] propagate its Kind, &c. But for Swearing, what [...] any Man say? even no­thing as all. Upon a [...]ild [...] with one of the Sparks about the usefulness [...] was, that it adorn'd his [...] a pass is the World [...] things terminate? But [...] (which [Page 321] consisted chiefly in Noise and Nonsence) was quick­ly at an end. For Dinner being ended, away went every one, according as his Business or his Humour led him: Some to the College, some to the Play-house, others to Court, a few to their Shops, and Dunton to his Auction: When I came there, my first Word usual­ly was, Where's Wild? What Sale last Night? Call Price. Sir, here's your Account ready cast up; Thirty Pounds receiv'd, and here's the discharge on't. Call Nelson, call Robinson, call James, call Bacon. Are the Bills Printed? And were they dispers'd at the Coffee houses, College, and Tho [...]sel? Thus, Madam, you see I was a Man of Business; and that my Pro­vince was, to have a general Inspection over all my Servants; and to stir them up to their Duty with the utmost Application.

When I had spent about an hours time at my Au­ction, and had seen every one in their proper Post, I▪ either went to visit a Friend, with whom sometimes I walk'd into the Fields; or else went home to my lodging, and spent my time in my Chamber, either in Reading Montaigns Essays (for 'tis a Book I va­lue at a great rate) or else in Writing to my Friends in England. And after the shadows of the Evening have put a period to the Day, I us'd to make a trip to my Auction, and crowd my self among the Gentle­men that went thither to buy Pennyworths; and so cou'd, unobserv'd, observe how things went. And here, to do 'em Justice, I observ'd that several Gentle­men bid like themselves, and as those that under­stood the Worth and Value of the Books they bid for. And others as much betray'd their Ignorance, and took no other Measures for their bidding, but from the bulk of the Book, if 'twas large (whatever the worth on't was) they bid accordingly. And yet, to do these Right, if they had but paid for what they had so bought, I have no reason to com­plain of 'em. Others there were, that in their bid­ding took their Measures from what they heard ano­ther bid before 'em; and two of these happening to meet together, wou'd strive so to out-bid each other, that they wou'd sometimes raise but an indifferent [Page 322] Book to a good Price: And these (provided still they paid for 'em) were very honest Chapmen, and help'd out those that went too often at an under Rate. But whatsoever any bid, 'twas their own Act and Deed; for I must do my self that Justice, to assert that I had none of those unworthy ways that have been used in some other Auctions. I had not one Setter (to advance the Price, and draw on unwary Bidders) in any of my five Sales. For how­soever I may have been aspersed in that particular, by Patrick Campbel, I have that Satisfaction in my self of my Sincerity and Innocence herein, as is beyond the Testimony of a thousand Witnesses.

Having diverted my self a while, with seeing of the various Humors of the Bidders in my Auction, I went away as unperceiv'd as I came thither, and thence retir'd into my Chamber; where, having spent some time in Meditation, I make it my endea­vour to recollect the Actions of the Day, and mak [...] a scrutiny into my Heart, to see what pec [...]ant Hu­mors have exerted themselves there; (being jealous of my self, that I have not been so much upon my Watch as I ought to have been) and having-thus examined how things stand, I strive by an humble Confession of what I find my self guilty of, and a hearty sorrow for it, to reconcile my self to my offended Maker, and so strike a Tally in the Exchequer of Heaven (as an ingenious Author expresses it) for my quietus est, before I close my Eyes, that I may leave no Burthen on my Conscience. And after my Addresses to Heaven, by way of Confession, &c. my Bed is the next place, where I know no more of my self till seven next Morn­ing, (so strange is the Nature of sound Sleep) than if I had never been; at which hour I usually digest the future business of the day: Yet, Madam, as sound as I sleep, I dream often. You know, Madam, Thought must be active, but I take little heed in the Morning, what the Visions of the Night have been (unless that Night when I dream of D—ne' [...] appearing to me) and much less care to remember them; but my Experience teaches me, that the over­night Thoughts come fresh upon me the next day; [Page 323] and how to digest and settle them, was the Morn­ing business; the main whereof, next after my Mornings Devotion, was to answer those Letters I had receiv'd from England. My Custom always is, to begin with that of my Wife's, and then to pro­ceed to D—ne's, and then to my other Relations and [...], as near as I can, in due order o [...] Place and Affection. I seal them in the same manner, only I retain that of my Wife's to be the first perused, and last closed.

Thus, Madam, I have given you a brief, but true Account of my general Method of Living: And by such Steps as these (through the help of Divine Grace) I strive to climb to Heaven; and sometimes find my Soul upon the Wing thither, before I am aware. There is, methinks, no Object in the World that's more delightful, than when in a Star-light-night, I survey the spangled Canopy of Heaven; for if my Mind happen to be o'ercast with Melancholy, when I look up and view the glittering Firmament, and hope in a short time to soar above those starry Regions, methinks I breath already the Air of a New World; and all those black Vapors that o'erwhelm'd my Soul, are fled in an instant: I then scorn this Transitory World, and all its fading Pleasures, con­sidering the Vanity of the one, and the Emptiness of the other.

T [...]us still my Soul moves upwards, as all the hea­venly Bodies do: But yet, as those Bodies are often snatcht away to the West, by the rapid motion of the Primum Mobile; so by those Epidemical Infirmities incident to human Nature, I am often turn'd a clean contrary course; though my Soul still persists in her proper Motion. And I have oft occasion to be angry with my self, when I consider, That whereas my bountiful Creator intended my Body (tho'a lump of Clay) shou'd be a Temple of his Holy Spirit, my corrupt Affections shou [...]d turn it so often to a Bedlam, and my Excesses to an Hospital. But as my Sin trou­bles me, so my trouble for Sin comforts me: And I believe there is less danger in committing the Sin I delight in, than in delighting in the Sin I have [Page 324] committed. In a word, Madam, I have experienc'd that the way to God is by my self; and the way to my self is by my own Corruptions: If I baulk this way, I err; If I travel by the Creatures, I wander: For the Motion of the Heavens will give my Soul no Rest, nor will the Vertue of Herbs increase mine; the height of all Philosophy, both Natu [...] and Mo­ral, being to know my self; and the end of this Know­ledge, is to know God, the knowledge of whom, is the Perfection of Love; God being our chiefest good, and the Enjoyment of him our highest Hap­piness.

And now, Madam, having given you a Specimen of my way of Living in Dublin, both on the Sabbath; and on the Week days. I come in the next place to give you a Iournal of my Conversation, with re­spect to the Occurrences I met with here; by which you may see what little occasion I gave for the Dubli [...] Scuffle; or to the false Dorinda to tempt me to her lewd Embraces.

It was in April when I came to Dublin, and near Eleven a Clock at Night when I landed; so that it was with some difficulty that I got a Lodging for that Night; for which I own my self beholding to Mrs. Lisle (the Widow) at the Dukes-head Tavern in Castle-street, the first Place I drank at in Ireland. I have always the Vnhappiness of being sick at Sea, which, though it be very irksome to bear, yet I find this good in't, that it endears the sence of God's Good­ness to me when I come to Land, and makes me the more thankful for my Preservation. Which having perform'd as well as the Fatigue I had been under would permit, I betook my self to my Chamber, and slept that Night without Rocking; though in the Morn­ing both my Bed and Chamber seem'd to me to have the same motion that my fluctuating Cabin had, the day before. Being got up the next Morning, I again renew'd my Thanks to God, for my Preservation at Sea, and safe arrival at Dublin. And now being drest as it were in Print, (for my busi­ness now was to see and be seen) I marched very me­thodically out of my Lodgings with two (I can't say a [Page 325] pair of) Gloves in one hand, and a Cane in t'other; and 'tis not long since I had done sowing my wild Oats; and now I am earnestly hunting after Gaup-seed. You wou'd smile, Madam, if you had the Picture of your quondam friend at the black Raven, like an over-grown Oaf newly come to Town, sta­ring and gazing at all the Signs, and every thing else in the Str [...]ets; pacing out their length, and en­quiring ever and anon, What call ye this Street? Who dwells in you great House? Whose fine Coach is that? For thus I rambled through every Street, Alley, and corner of this spacious Town, as you'll find at large in my Summer Travels, where 200 Persons will see their Pictures, that at present little expect it; but I leave 'em here, to tell ye the first visit I made in Dublin, was to Nat. Gun. a Bookseller in [...]ssex-street, to whom I was directed by my Friend, Mr. Richard Wild, (whom I had left behind me in London)‘This Son of a Gun gave me a hearty Welcome; and, to do him Justice, he's as honest a Man as the World affords; and is so esteemed by all that know him. He is a firm adherer to the established Government, and a declared Enemy to Popery and Slavery: So far from dissembling, that he knows not how to go about it; and will speak his Mind, how much soever it may be to his Prejudice. He understands Stenography as well as Bookbinding; and he himself is a sort of a Short-hand Character; for he is a little Fellow, but one that contains a great deal. And as he is a most incomparable Writer of Short-hand, so he speaks it as well as writes it: and to compleat his Character, He is a constant Shop-keeper, without earnest Business calls him to the Drum­condrah. This Gun was a constant and generous bidder at my Auctions, where he bought a great quantity of Books, which he as honestly paid for’

At Mr. Gun's Shop, I met with Mr. [...], another Bookseller, but his principal Business is Binding; whom I afterwards employed considerably: ‘He is a very honest Man, but has met with Misfortunes in the World, by thinking some others as honest [Page 326] as himself, who did not prove so.’ I ask'd Mr. Bently, whether there was not some Eminence in the City, from whence I might survey it? He told me there was; and that from the top of the Tholsel, the whole City might be seen; so we went to the Tholsel, where we ascended about half a score Stairs from the Street, which brought us into a spa­cious Ro [...]m, supported by great Pillars, and flagg'd (as they term it here) with free Stone, with open Banisters on each side towards the Street; its figure is rather an oblong than a square: This is the Place they call the Change, where the Merchants meet every day, as on the Royal Exchange in London. In a corner, at the South-East part, is a Court of Iu­dicature, where they keep their publick Sessions for the City. Having view'd the lower part, we went up a large pair of Stairs into a publick Room, which had a large Balconey looking into Skinner Row; and from this Balcony I spoke with my Friend Mr. Geo. Larkin, who was then at Mr. Ray's Printing-house over-against it. He no sooner saw me, but came over to congra­tulate my safe arrival, expressing himself very joy­ful to see me; and I was as glad as he, we having a long time had a kindness for each other, and con­vers'd by Letter, even when I was in America. Ha­ving said so much of him, you'll not wonder, Madam, if I send ye an Epitomy of his Character, (intending to do it more largely in my Summer Ramble)‘He is of a midling Stature, somewhat gross, of a San­guine Complexion, and a hail Constitution both of Body and Mind; and (which I admire where ever I find it) he is of an even Temper, not elated when Fortune Smiles, nor cast down with her Frowns; and though his Stars have not been very propitious to him, with respect to his outward Circumstances, (he having had great Losses) yet he has born all with such a presence of Mind, as shew'd his Losses to be the effect of his Misfortunes, and not his Faults. His Conversation is extreamly diverting, and what he says is always to the pur­pose: He is a particular Votary of the Muses; and I have seen some of his Poems that can't be equall'd: [Page 327] But there is one thing more peculiar to him, which is, That whatever he does, is upon the Account Civil.

I went up with my Friends (Madam) to the top of the Th [...]lsel, and there had a View of the whole City; but a Storm that then arose, took from us much of the Pleasure of the Prospect: But of that, and the spacious Chambers over the Change, where theFor so the chief Magistrate of the Ci­ty is stil'd there, as well as in London. Lord Mayor and Aldermen meet, and other Curiosities which I saw there, as also o [...] the Government of the City, (by the Lord Mayor, Alder­men, and Assemblies) I shall give a more particular Account in my Summer Ramble. But this I will say here, (Madam) That of all the Cities in the Kings Dominions, Dublin (next to London) does justly claim the Precedence.

‘'Twas at the Tholsel I met Mr. Dell, a Person whose Understanding and generous Temper, set him above the common Rate of Men, and shew him to be every way a Gentleman; I could not but love him for these Qualifications, but much more as he was an old Acquaintance of my Honoured Mother-in-law; and Madam, you can't blame me for this, as she treats me with that Tenderness, that I think her my own Mother Reviv'd, and I find shall love her as much. Mr. Dell shew'd me a most particular Re­spect at our first Meeting, and continued his Favours to the last Minute I staid in Ireland, being one of those that were so obliging as to see me a Ship­board.

From the Tholsel, Mr. Dell, Mr. Bently, and I, were going to the Tavern, but Mr. Larkin, by the way, wou'd have me go into Dick's Coffee-house, where I had been advis'd by Mr. Wild, to keep my Auctions: I readily agreed to his Motion, and went up, saw it, and liked it, as proper for my Purpose; Dick shew­ing me all the Civility I could desire: And I must say this of Dick, (notwithstanding our after Quarrel) ‘That he is a Witty and Ingenious Man, makes the best Coffee in Dublin; and is very Civil and Ob­liging [Page 328] to all his Customers; of an open and gene­rous Nature; has a peculiar Knack at Bantering, and will make Rhymes to any thing: He's of a chear­ful facetious Temper, and generally speaking fair in his Dealing: And had not Patrick assaulted him with the Temptation of a double Price, he and I shou'd never have quarrel'd; and yet for all that, I must do him the Justice to say, he carry'd it ci­villy to me to the very last; and was so kind as to come (with my Friend Mr. Dell) to give me a Farewell when I left Ireland; thus much for Dick: As for his Wife, I shall say this, ‘She's an Industri­ous Woman, hand [...]om enough, one that knows her Duty to her Husband, and how to respect her Customers; and in a word, is what a Wife ought to be;’ and I must own, though her Husband and I scuffled, she treated me always with much [...].

From Dicks we went to the Tavern, where having [...]rank a Bottle or two (and related the Fatigues of my Dublin Voyage) we parted, and went each to our several Lodgings. In my way home I was attackt by an impudent [...], who desired me to bestow a Glass of Wine upon her; I made her no other Answer, than that the House of Correction stood not far off; at which she scower'd away with all the Heels she could make, seeming as much scar'd, as if she had been in the most eminent danger of losing her Chastity; when perhaps she could scarce re­member the time when she had it. I hope, Madam, you do not esteem any thing I have said here, to be designed for the magnifying of my own Vertues; it's practicable enough for a man to make his Reputati­on clear and not sin; and assure your self, I am not unsensible that self-Praise is a most odious thing in any, and I shall ever account it much more so in my self: However it be, Madam, all my Mistakes are entirely submitted to you, who are the best Judge of 'em.

The next day I removed to more convenient Quarters, and deliver'd some Letters which I had brought from London. This day Mr. Dell gave me a [Page 329] meeting at Dicks; from whence we went to the Castle, the Place of Residence for the Chief Gover­nors; by Mr. Dell's Interest I had here a view of the Lord Galway's Bed-Chamber, and other [...] Apartments, but I wave 'em here, designing to speak of 'em in my Summer Ramble; however, I'll here attempt his Lordships Character, and hope my honest Intention herein will something attone for my great Defects; and the rather still, as his Lordships Merits are above a Dryden's or a Cowley's Pen. I own 'tis a bold Undertaking, to offer at the Character of one of the greatest Men which our Age has produc'd, especially for one who has not the Honour of being personally known to him; however, though I can't perform this Great Task as it ought to be, yet I'll endeavour at something so like him, that any one at first glance may say 'twas meant for the Earl of Galway, one of the present Lords Justices for the Kingdom of Ireland. Then to proceed (tho' with a trembling Hand) to his Lordships Character.

The first thing then which is remarkable in him, is▪ ‘He is a Person of strict Morals, and extraordi­nary Piety. His Lordship is advanc'd to the Ho­nours he now enjoys, by his great Humility and Personal Merits. The Noble Blood that has fill'd his Veins, has not swell'd his Heart: He is as humble as he is great; he seems set by Heaven on such a conspicuous Place, (as is that of being Lord Ju­stice of Ireland) on purpose to guide the People into the Paths of Love and Obedience to their God and King. In a word, he uses such an oblig­ing meen to all, as if he thought the only thing va­luable in Greatness, is the power it gives to oblige. I wou'd go on with his Lordship's Character, but (as I said before) I find my self unable for this Task; so that (Madam) I shall next proceed (for his Lordship's Character leads me to it) to give some short Account of the present State of the Kingdom, according to my best Information, though you may wonder that Dunton should trouble his Head with Politicks; but since such is the Cu­stom of Travellers▪ Why may not I thrust my self into the Herd?

[Page 330] The Present Governors are, Their Excellencies the Lord Marquess of Winchester, the Earl of Galway, and the Lord Villers, now Earl of Jersey; (his Lord­ship has never been here with this Character, though he be n [...]med in the Commission;) and the present Government is so well administer'd by those two Noble Lords, that I have not heard one man repine at them since I came to Dublin. They have Officers belonging to the Houshold, such as Steward and Comptrouler; who on Sta [...]e-days carry White Rods as the Ensigns of their Office: When they go to Church, the Streets, from the Castle-gate, to the Church-door, as also the great Isle of the Church, to the foot of the Stairs by which they ascend to the Place where they sit, are lined with Soldiers; they are preceeded by the Pursivants of the Council-Chamber, two Maces, (and on State-days) by the King, and Pursivant at Arms, their Chaplains, and Gentlemen of the Houshold, with Pages and Foot­men bare-headed: When they alight from their Coach, (in which commonly the Lord Chancellor, and one of the Prime Nobility sit with 'em) the Sword of State is deliver'd to some Lord to carry before 'em; and in the like manner they return back to the Castle, where the several Courses at dinner are usher'd in by Kettle-drums and Trumpets. I forgot to tell you (Madam) that in these Cavalcades the Coach in which they ride is attended by a small Squadron of Horse; after which follow a long Train of Coach­es that belong to the several Lords and Gentlemen who attend 'em.

Having given ye this short Account of the Chief Governors, I shall next proceed to mention some­thing of the Estate of the Church, which in all its Canons are not the same with that of England; not that they differ from it in any points of Reli­gion, but only in some Circumstances of Govern­ment; which by a Convocation which has been some­times held here, may be alter'd as the present Exi­gencies require: It consists of two Houses, viz. The Upper in which the Bishops, and the lower where the Inferior Clergy sit; but they have not thought [Page 331] it needful to call one since his present Majesty's Ac­cession to the Crown. The most Reverend the Arch-bishops are four, viz. Dr. Michael Boyl, Lord Arch-bishop of Armagh, and Primate of all Ireland. Dr. Narcissus Marsh, Lord Arch-bishop of Dublin, Primate of Ireland. Dr. William Palliser, Lord Arch-bishop of Cashell; and Dr. Iohn Vesey, Lord Arch-bishop of Tuam. And the Suffragants are eighteen in Number, of this Number Three are of his Majesty's Privy-Council, viz. The Bishops of Meath, Kildare, and Clogher, as also the two Primates. To give you a short Character of them, take this, what has been told me by some Judicious Persons, of as well Dis­senters as others, That they are Men of such Learn­ing, Moderation, and Piety, that this [...]hurch had ne­ver a better Class of Bishops to govern it.

The Dissenters in Ireland are a very considerable People, as well for their Number as Wealth; and all unanimous in an hearty Zeal for our present happy Government. (And indeed, since my coming hither, I have not heard of any one Iacobite in the whole Kingdom.) They have several Meeting-houses, large and conveniently order'd within; and these are sup­ply'd with Sober and Pious Teachers; among whom I think the Reverend Mr. Boyse may justly be named as the Chief; one, wh [...] by continual and hard Study every Day, fits himself with new Acquisitions towards the happy discharging of his Pastoral Care; which he expresses with so much Meekness, and force of Perswa­sion, as make him at once mightily belov'd and follow'd. And one thing this Kingdom is extreamly happy in, That both Perswasions do so well agree, towards promoting the common good, as more cannot well be desir'd; a great Advancer of which Union, is Mr. Weld, a Person of Sobriety, Learning, and solid Iudgment, and much admir'd and follow'd for his Preaching.

The Quakers are here in great Numbers also, as one might easily perceive that would have consider'd the mighty Throngs of them which crowded about their Great speaker and Champion, William Pen, when he came hither to hold forth. I cannot hear of any [Page 332] Learned Men among them, though some of them are very Wealthy, and but few of them poor; they can make use of the Carnal Sword, as well as those who pretend more to it; as you will believe by this Story of one among them, whose Name I forget; who, in the late War, when the Rapparees came towards Edenderry, near the Bogg of Allen, in the Kings County, he, among other of the Militia, went forth to engage them, and put them all to the run, except those who were kill'd in the Action; among them lay one whom the Quaker thought he had kill'd, and rifled his Pockets; but some Months after, when a great number of them burnt Colonel Purefoy's House, about three Miles from Edenderry, these brisk Sparks took, the Alarm, and making as considerable a body as they could, march'd to Pure­foys-place, where they found many of the Irish, who had made themselves drunk with the Colonels strong Beer, fast asleep in the Ditches; the Quaker, who never was backward in such Attempts, finds the same Fellow whom he thought he had formerly kill'd, half tipsie, and in his Arms; he call'd him by his Name, saying, Verily I thought I had of late slain thee? but now find my Mistake; wherefore I purpose to make sure work, and hinder thee from Rising any more; and so immediately knockt him down with a Poll-Ax which he used always instead of a Sword; and then cut off his Head. Poor Teig never offer'd at any Resistance, nor endeavour'd to save himself by flight, but stood to die like a Fool.

Our Red Letter'd Gentlemen were never under such Circumstances here, as now; for all their Bishops and Regular Clergy are banish'd by Act of Parlia­ment, which makes it Death to find any of them return'd again. So that now they are wholly de­pending on the Seculars, and every Parish is allow'd his Priest; but when he dies, there being none to Ordain a new one, it must remain without; and this will be the State of the whole Kingdom in a little time, when the present set of Priests shall be ex­tinct. They have also another Law, That no Pa­pist [Page 333] shall keep a School, nor any one Native of a Foreign Education be admitted to dwell in the King­dom; so that by these Acts I think it will appear plain enough, that the Romish Religion is on its last Legs in Ireland; and the present Romanists who survive their Priests, must conform to the Protestant Religion, or live and die without the Exercise of their own. I do not pretend to make my Judgment upon these Methods; but I think the next Age will have few People inclinable to any more Rebellions against England; and some of the Papist Lords have put their Children to be Educated in the Protestant Faith; and several Gentlemen have lately abjur'd the Romish.

These Ghostly Fathers were to render themselves on the first day of May for Transportation at Dublin, Cork, &c. where their Names were enter'd with the Magistrate of the Town; ye may guess at the Lamentations which were made at parting with such precious Iewels; and Masses were said, and Money begg'd for them, besides what the People volunta­rily gave without asking. One old Fryar, called Fa­ther Kereen, who had been a famous Exorcist, and excellent good at helping [...]attle that were over­look'd or bewitch'd, (for some of the vulgar are so superstitious to believe this) made sale of good store of Holy Water, which had helpt to cast out De­vils; and of several other consecrated Trinckams, by which it was said he acquir'd such a Summ of Mo­ney, as might suffice for his support all his days; and such were the Tricks play'd by many of them on their going into Exile, as leaving Holy Tokens, and taking Catalogues of their Acquaintances Names, to pray for them all the Days of their Life. Now these Kindnesses deserv'd some returns, which they never fail'd of; though whether they are as good as their words in remembring them, I leave to their own Breasts. Before I leave this account of the State of Religion in Ireland, I shall acquaint you with the manner of exorcising their Demoniacks (though for my part I think the Devil is in the presumptuous Priest, rather than the melancholy Person) and [Page 334] you may judge how sit such Persons are for honest Society.

‘The Exorcist, before he goes to work, ought by way of a preparative, to confess his Sins, and re­ceive the Eucharist; then he begins the Operation with some short Prayers, and tyes the ends of the violet coloured Stole that he wears, about the De­moniacks Neck; who, if outragious, must be tyed Hand and Foot; then crossing him, and the by­standers, they go to Prayer, and read the 53 Psalm, and after a Prayer or two more, he thus speaks to the Devil: I command thee thou unclean Spirit, whoever thou art, and all thy Companions, that do possess this Servant of God, That by the Mystery of the Incarna­tion, Passion, Resurrection, and Ascension of our Lord I. C. by the sending the Holy Ghost, and the coming of our Lord to Iudgment, thou tell me thy Name, and the day and hour of thy Exit, with some sign; and that thou obey me the unworth [...] Minister of God in all things; and that thou offend not this Creature of God, or any of the By-standers in their Persons or Goods. Then he crosses himself, and the Demoniack on the Fore-head, Mouth, and Breast, and reads some Gospel, as that of the First of St. Iohn, the 16 th of Mark, or the 10 th of Luke; then falling to Prayer, he begs to be enabled to cast forth this cruel Devil; then lapping the Stole about the possessed Parties Neck, and forti­fying him with the Sign of the Gross, he lays his Right Hand on the Patients Head, and cries out, Behold the Cross of the Lord! (which he shews him) Fly from it ye adverse Parties: The Lyon of the Tribe of Iudah, the Root of David hath overcome: Then to Prayer again he goes, and begins a new Exorcism, saying, I exorcise thee, most foul Spi­rit, every Incursion of the Adversary, every Phan­tasm, and every Legion, in the Name of our Lord J. C. ✚ to fly from, and be eradicated ✚ out of this Image of God: He commands thee, who bid thee be plunged from the highest Heavens, into the lower parts of the Earth: He whom the Sea, Winds and Tempests obey, commands thee. Then [Page 335] when this does not serve turn, he falls to scold the Devil after this manner, Hear therefore, and fear, thou Satan, Enemy of the Faith, and all Mankind; thou Introducer of Death, and Destroyer of Life, Decliner of Justice, Root of all Evils, Fomenter of Vices, Seducer of Men, Betrayer of Nations, Promoter of Envy, Source of Avarice, Cause of Discord, and Exciter of Sorrow, Why dost thou stay? Why dost thou resist, when thou knowest the Lord Christ can destroy all thy Power? Fear him who was sacrificed in Isaac, sold in Ioseph, [...]ain in the Lamb, crucified in Man, and at last tri­umphed over Hell. Then he makes the following Cross in the Forehead of the Possessed; Be gone you in the Name of the Father, ✚ and of the Son, ✚ and of the Holy Ghost, ✚ Give way to the Holy Spi­rit by this [...] sign of the Cross of our Lord J. C. Then they go to Prayers; and after them another Exorcism is used like the former, wherein he calls the Devil many hard Names, and tells him of all the Rogueries he has ever committed, and bids him be gone for shame, since all his Tricks are discovered.’

Madam, I wou'd e [...]large in giving a more particu­lar account of the present Condition of the Church and State in this Kingdom of Ireland, (for as I was a little curious in this matter, so I have met with such In­genious Company since I came here, as have been able to satisfie my Curiosity in these Matters;) but my Observations on the State of Ireland being more properly a part of my Summer Ramble, than what re­lates to my Conversation in Dublin, I shall drop it here, and proceed to what is more properly Conver­sation; my Design in this Letter (as I said at first) being rather to tell ye how I liv'd in Ireland, than to tell ye what I saw or observ'd there. And in the Ac­count of my Conversation, with respect to the Oc­currences I met with there (for that's the Subject I am still upon) I am next to tell ye, that having seen the Castle, and other Rarities, I was the next Sunday for going to Church (the Place where the Lords Iustices usually go) and accordingly thither [Page 336] I went in Company with Mr. Larkin. After we had seen the State in which the Government rides to Church (which indeed is very splendid, as I hinted before) we crowded into the Church, where I endeavoured to compose my self in the most serious manner I could, to attend the Service of God performed there. I do not pretend to retain whole Sermons by heart, but can have a satisfied Conscience in keeping only in my Memory, a remarkable passage or two that suits best to the then Edification of my Soul; much less then, Madam, shall I offer to describe this place of Divine Worship, or Descant upon the Auditory: but as 'tis most natural for Mankind, upon the pre­senting of fresh Objects, to view them at least in a transient manner; I found it so with my self here, notwithstanding the Injunctions of God, and my own Conscience, to keep close to my Devotion; but pardon me Madam, if I am necessitated to de­clare, I did not behold one tolerable Face among all those that are distinguish'd by the Name of the Fair Sex: So that here I can truly say, They were no Temptation to me; and that I had no occasion to make a Covenant with my [...]yes: But for my self, I could have been heartily content they had had a certain place of Worship from the Men, assigned them in the Assembly, as the Eastern Churches have, but for what reason I know not. But this Liberty (Madam) that I took to gaze, and make Reflecti­ons, was only while they were singing an Anthem, with Vocal and Instrumental Musick, there being two pair of Organs in Christ-Church; of which one is a very noble one. But when the Minister ascended the Pulpit, I heard him with great Attention and De­light: He was a Dignitary of the Church, but his Name has slipt my Memory. Retiring home from hence with what convenient speed the Infirmity of my Body would permit me, I din'd in my Lodging with my Landlord H—a Jolley Man in his natural Temper, but not very serious in matters of Religi­on; I made my Repast as short as I could, (as is usual with me upon such days) and withdrew into my Chamber, where I spent the remainder of the [Page 337] day in such Acts of Devotion and Meditation as were usual with me; but I had some more particu­lar Impressions upon my Spirits concer [...]ing the Di­vine Goodness towards me, in respect to the now state of my Health, That I h [...]d been enabled to go once again to the House of God: And I will own, to the Glory of the Divine Name, that some touches in the Sermon I had heard that day concerning Thankfulness for Mercies receiv'd, were very helpful to me in the course of this Evenings Devotion.

The next Week I went to see Patrick Campbel, to whom (by his Order) I had sent several of Mr. Turner's History. He treated me well enough the first time I saw him, giving me my Mornings Draught, and tell­ing me I was welcome to Dublin: But I said nothing then of the Books I sent him, nor he to me; which I thought somewhat strange. The second time I went to him, which was the Week following; after the usual How-dee's were over, I expected he shou'd have took some notice to me of the Books; which he not doing, I took notice of 'em to him; and then it was I perceiv'd he had a Natural Aver­sion to Honesty; for he began to shuffle at the very mention of 'em. However, resolving to be easie with him, I took my leave of him for that time. The third time I saw him, he shuffl'd about my Books at that rate, that a Stranger in his Shop (to whom I offer'd to refer my Cause) resented it: And from that time forward (only for demanding my own, and telling him how unfairly he dealt by me) he became my Enemy. This, Madam, being the Per­son with whom I had the preceeding Scuffle; if by this you don't sufficiently see his Character, give me leave to give it you? which I will do impartially, and without any respect to the Controversie I had with him.

‘He is, of Stature, rather Tall than otherwise; his Hair reddish, his Speech very broad, like his Country; no Schollar, but of good Natural Parts; very covetous, and extreamly proud: He had a very mean beginning (for which no man ought to blame him, for he cou'd n't help it himself, and [Page 338] consequently 'twas none of his fault) but his in­tollerable Pride makes it necessary that he be often put in mind on't. I have heard some Persons say, that had dealings with him, That they had rather speak to the Lord Mayor about Business, than Pa­trick Campbel; and that he wou'd not look for so much respect. He cares not to part with Money, and where he can s [...]uffle he will: He is of Vespasi­an's Mind, and thinks no Gain is unsavoury. What good parts he has, he uses ill, employing 'em for the most part to circumvent his Neighbour. (Of which his taking my Room over my Head is an un­deniable Instance.) He understands the Doctrin [...] of Equivocation as well as a Jesuit; and their Ho­nesties are much alike, only the Jesuits are the fairer Dealers. He pretends extreamly to Religi­on, and has got many a Penny by the Bargain: He'll commonly say Grace over a Choppin of Ale, and at the same time be contriving▪ how to over­reach you: Candor, and Fair Dealing, are things he often mentions (as a cover for the opposite Vices) but never cares to make use of 'em, unless some­times to draw in a greater Booty.’

This, Madam, is a part of his Character, which shou'd I draw out at length, it wou'd make a Pack too big for a Pedlar; but having thus accidentally stumbled upon his Original 'twill be Wisdom to leave him where he was first found. Which yet I am unwilling to do, till I have acquainted you, Madam, that I have enough by me, to confirm every tittle of this Character, without referring to any thing relating to my self; for I have the History of his [...]ife sen [...] me from Dublin since I came over, even from the time he sold Thread-laces in Glascow, by the Name of Patrick Vre, to the time that Patrick Campbel begged Pardon of the Company in Dublin, for his pretty Experiment of turning Hodder into [...]o [...]ker, &c. And this attested by several Emi­nent Persons in that City, among whom Mr. Thorn­ton, the King's Stationer, is one. But having told him I'll be a generous Enemy, I intend this History [Page 339] of his Life shall be kept secret, unless he shall (here­after) provoke me to publish it.

From Patrick Campbel I rambled to the Ing [...]ni­ous Mr. Ray's who is both Printer and Bookseller, and the best scituated of any Man in Dublin; and thence back to honest Ware's witty, Shaw's and grave Mr. Foster's; who, as they all deserve an honourabl [...] Character (which for brevity sake, I here omit) so I shall give it 'em in my Summer Ramble.

Having left Mr. Ray, I rambled to Castle-street, where Vulcan with his wooden Leg startled me with the creeking of it, for I took it for the Crep [...]us Ossi­um which I have heard some of our Physitians speak of; however, I was honestly treated by him, and will do him justice in my Summer Ramble.

Some time after this, seeing the Squire of Alsatia in a Play-Bill, to be Acted, I had a great Mind to see it; for there being so many Alsatians in Dublin, I thought it could not chuse but be acted to the Life: And so having done my Business (for I al­ways m [...]ke Recreation wait upon Business▪ I went to the Play-house, which Place you know, Madam, is free for all Comers, and [...]ives Entertainment as well to the Broom man, as the greatest Peer: And therefore having got my Ticket, I made a shift to crowd into the Pit, where I made my Honors to Mad [...]m [...] (who I was amaz'd to find at the Play- [...]ouse) and to two or three other Ladies that I hapned to know; my next Adventure there was, to give a Hem to the China Orange Wench; and to give her her own rate for her Oranges; for you know, Madam, 'tis below a Gentlemen (and as such I passd in the Crowd) to stand hagling like a Citizen's Wife. I found, Madam, the Dublin Play-house to be a place very contrary to its owners; for they on their out-sides make the best show: But this is very ordinary in its outward appearance, but looks much better on the inside, with its Stage, Pit, Boxes, two Galleries, Lettices, and Musick Loft; though I must confess, that even these, li [...]e other false Beaut [...]es, receive a Lustre from their Lamps [Page 340] and Candles: It stands in a durty Street, called Smock-Alley; which I think is no unfit Name for a Place where such great Opportunities are given for making of lewd Bargains: Hither I came drest (tho' I say't) tollerably well; tho' not so much to be seen, as to see the Follies of the Age; for however the Theatre be applauded by a Modern Gentleman, for the Representation of those things which so mightily promote Vertue, Religion, and Monarchi­cal Government; for my part, I thought Vice, which fundamentally destroys all those things, is here, as well as in other Theatres, so charmingly discover'd, as to make Men rather love than abhor it; like the Judge, who, on the Bench, discovering, the Arts of some Cow-stealers, to disguise their Beasts by alter­ing the Figure of their Horns, taught a poor fellow the Trick, who putting it in Practice, was brought to the Gallows; However, to give the Devil his due, there are some Actors here, particularly Mr. Ash­bury, Mr. Husbands, Mr. Wilks, Mr. Hescot, Mr. Norris, Mr. Buckly, Mr. Longmore, Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Schooling, no way inferior to those in London; nor are the Spectators, by what I saw, one degree less in Va­nity and Foppery, than those in another Place.

For the Play, Madam, I need say nothing, 'tis so well known; 'twas pretty to see the Squire choused out of so fair an Estate with so little ready Rino: Yet the Diversion was not so great, but that the Crowd made me more uneasie; a thing I ever abominated, and for the most part made it my Bu­siness to shun all my days; in a word, no Church I was in while at Dublin, cou'd I discern to be half so crowded as this Place. I cannot tell indeed how it would have been, had they play'd on Sunday, as they do in Popish Countries, and particularly at Rome; where a Stranger once observed, all the Peo­ple suddenly ran out of the Play-house into the Church, as fast as they could, which made him at first think it was a most Religious Place; but when he came to hear the Fryar Preach, his Words, Acti­ons, and other Gestures were so Comical, that his [Page 341] Wonder ceased; for he thought all the Actors and Players in Christendom were a Fool to him.

After spending three or four hours in the Play-house, to see a few Men and Women make Fools of themselves, I returned home to my Chamber, and cou'd scarce be reconcil'd to my self, to think how foolishly I had wasted that time which might have been spent to better purpose.

Madam, I shou'd next acquaint you with a pro­digious Storm which happened in Dublin about the latter end of Iuly; it might indeed be more proper­ly call'd a Hurricane than a Storm: It strangely sur­priz'd me, though its fury continued not above six hours; there was hardly a House in the City, where it had not left some visible Marks of its Rage (es­pecially in Christ-Church-lane:) So that it was mo [...]e safe being in the Fields, than in the City at that time; the oldest Men alive cou'd never remember any thing so terrible as this Storm. But to give an account of the Mischief it did, wou'd be too great a Digression, I shall therefore reserve it for my Sum­mer Ramble; as I shall also a Comical Entertainment made at Kells in the County of Meath, by one Captain Bryan O Brogan, Son to Philip O Brogan, Prince of Cavan.

Soon after this Great Storm, the Duke of Ormond landed at Dublin, and from thence went to his House at Kilkenny, where (in my Summer Ramble) I saw his Grace, and had a sight of the Castle, and other Rarities, by the Interest of Dr. Wood, whose great Civilities I acknowledge in the following Pa­ges. About this time the Dublin Players, with all their Appurtinances, stroled down to Kilkenny; af­ter which 'twas reported in Dublin, that one Wilks, one of the best Actors, had play'd his last part, being kill'd in a Duel; this Report was so far believ'd, that an Ingenious Person writ an Elegy Which Elegy I'll insert in my Summer Ram­ble. upon him, which was Printed, and publickly Sold. This News of his Death was talk'd with such Assurance, that though Mr. Wilks soon after came to Dublin [Page 342] and shew'd himself alive, they wou'd hardly believe him. The ground of this Report (as I was told) arose from this▪ That a Country-man seeing a Trage­dy acted in Kilkenny, wherein Mr. Wilks acted the part of one that was to be kill'd, thought it was real, and so reported it.

I might next mention the sudden Deaths of the Dublin Sheriffs; the Tragical Story of a Person that was kill'd by a fall from his Horse; and the dismal Accident of a Child's firing a Garret (with himself in it) with Gunpowder; but shou'd I relate half the Occurrences I met in Dublin, I shou'd swell this Let­ter beyond measure, so I reserve 'em all for my Summer Ramble; and shall next proceed (that I may ren­der the account of my Conversation the more com­pleat) to give a particular Account of the Vis [...]ts I made in Dublin; for, Madam, as 'tis an Observation, That a Man may be known by his Company, so I think 'tis not incongruous to believe that an Idea of his Conversation may be taken from the Persons to whom, and the Occasions on which he makes his Visits.

And here (Madam) I must first acquaint ye, that soon after my coming to Dublin, Mr. Norman the Bookseller sent one Mr. Rogerson, to invite me to his House; when I came thither, I [...]ound his Business was to propose the buying of the Venture I had brought over; in which, though we agreed not, he treated me very kindly, shewing me all his House, and therein his Picture, done so much to the Life, that even Ze [...]xes or Apelles cou'd scarce exceed it.

From his House he had me to his Garden, which though not very large, is to be much admir'd for the curiousness of the Knots, and variety of choice Flowers that are in it; he [...]eing an excellent Florist, and well acquainted with all the variegated Tapistry of Nature, in the several Seasons of the year. Mr. Nor­man has this peculiar to himself, that whatever he has in his Garden, is the most excellent of its kind: He has a Room adjoyning to this Earthly Paradise, to shelter his more tender Plants and Flowers from the Insults of Winter-storms. From hence he carried [Page 343] me to a large Ware-house, where he had a large Auction, preparing, as he said, for Sale; though I heard nothing more of it while I staid in Dub­lin.

Madam, shou'd I give ye this Gentleman's Cha­racter, I must say, ‘He's a little squat Man, that loves to live well, and has a Spouse who under­stands preparing good things as well as the best La­dy in Ireland; he has a hole too much in his Nose, which I have heard was occasion'd by a Brass Pin in his Nurses Wastcoat; which when he was nuzling for the Diddy, hapned to run in it; and for want of a skilful hand to dress it, the hole remains to this day, and yet without disfiguring his Face.

Before I proceed to the next Visit, give me leave, Madam, being fall'n (a second time) among my Brethren, to spend a few Lines about 'em, among the many I trouble you with concerning other Peo­ple; they are not a Corporation of themselves, but mixt with Cutlers, and Painter-stainers; and their present Master is Mr. Norman, whose Character I here send ye; with this Addition, that he never opposed my Auction.

Nor must I (Madam) forget the extraordinary Civility of the King's Printer, Mr. Andrew Crook, ‘Who is a worthy and generous Gentleman, whose Word and Meaning never shake hands and part, but always go together: He is one that is as far from doing other Men an Injury, as he is from desiring to be injur'd; and though his Circumstances are not so great, yet his Soul is as large, as if he were a Prince, and scorns as much to do an unworthy Action. He is a great Lover of Printing, and has a great Respect for all that are related to that No­ble Mystery.’

Having paid my Respects to the King's Printer, I went next to Mr. Thornton, the King's Stationer, of whom I shall say in short, ‘He's a very obliging Person, has sence enough for a Privy-Counsellor, and good Nature enough for a Primitive Christian. He treated me when I came to Dublin, with a Bottle of Excellent Claret; and if I live to publish [Page 344] my Summer Ramble, Patrick Campbel shall know (though he was afraid to meet him at the Keys in High-street) there is not a better Neighbour, nor an honester Man in Dublin.

As I pass'd from the King's Stationer, I met with an honest Gentleman, with whom I was for­merly acquainted in London; 'twas my worthy Friend Dr. Smith, of College-green near Dublin; his Character is above my Pen, yet I may venture to say, He is a Man of extraordinary Sense; and the only Physitian I durst commit the Care of my Health to, in the whole Country: He invited me to his House, and when I came, gave me a hearty Welcome; and for his Treat, though 'twas very Genteel, yet nothing seem­ed so agreeable to me, as the Doctors Company,

I went next to Brides-street, to pay my Respects to Mr. Wallis (a Member of Parliament) and his Lady, with whom I had the Honour to be acquaint­ed (at Tunbridge) some years ago; I shall ever ac­knowledge the generous Reception I met with here, neither can I forget to characterize his extraordina­ry Kinswoman, whose Wit and Beauty set her above the rest of the fair Sex, as having nothing in her but what bears witness to the Perfection of her Mind and Body

Saint like she looks, a Syren if she sing;
Her Eyes are Stars, her Mind is ev'ry thing.

I wou'd say something too of that ingenious Gentle­man who is Tutor to Mr. Wallis's Children; for I found (in some Discourses I had with him) ‘That his Learning and Knowledge had out-strip'd his years; but he's too modest to bear the Character he justly merits; and to speak of him by halfs, is what I can't approve of; so I'll wave his Character with only saying, The Conversation I found here, was the most agreeable of any I met in Dublin.’

Durst I here attempt Mr. Wallis's Character, I might say of him (as was said of the Lord Russel) That he's one of the best of Sons, the best of Fathers, the best of Husbands, the best of Masters, the best [Page 345] of Friends, and the best of Christians; and his Lady is no ways inferior to him for Vertue, Wit, and Gene­rosity. And her Kinswoman, Madam More (not she that I spake of before, but one I had the Ho­nour to know at Tunbridge) is so like her in these Qualities, that were their Faces alike too, you cou'd not distinguish one from t'other.

In some Conferences I had with Mr. Wallis about my Welsh Travels, I told him I found the following Epitaph on a Tomb-stone in Conway-Church, which for the Remarkableness of it, I inserted in my Jour­nal; 'twas this, Here lies Nicholas Hooks of Con­way, Gent. the One and Fortieth Child of his Father, William Hooks, Esq by his Wife Alice; and Fa­ther of Twenty Seven Children himself: Which was a matchless Instance of a fruitful Family. To which Mr. Wallis reply'd, He heard there had been a Troop in Ireland, wherein, one Mother had Two and Twenty of her own Children listed. Having taken my leave of Mr. Wallis, his Lady, and the rest of his Family, my next Visit was to Sir Henry Ingoldsby, a Member of the Privy Council in Ireland, and a Gentleman of near Ninety Years: When I came to his House, I sent up my Name, and Sir Henry order'd his Gentle­man to bring me into a private apartment where he was: When I enter'd the Room, Sir Henry receiv'd me in a courteous manner; I told him I presum'd to wait upon him, to enquire whether my Reverend Father, Mr. Iohn Dunton, was not once his Chaplain? and that if he was, it must be Forty years ago. Sir Henry did not at first remember it; but sending to his Lady, she sent word that she did call to mind such a Person; but 'twas added, my Father did not live in the House, but us'd to come often to it. I then ask'd Sir Henry, Whether one Mrs. Marry Hall did not live with him when my Father was in Ire­land? for that in my Father's Will, was this Ex­pression, Item, I bequeath unto Mrs. Mary Hall, servant to Sir Henry Ingoldsby when I was in Ire­land, Five Pounds, if ever demanded, or she be not dead, for her friendly Offices to me, during a great sickness I had in that Kingdom. I told Sir Henry, I [Page 346] was not put upon this Enquiry by the Executrix, but that Providence having brought me to Ireland, (tho' Twenty Years after my Fathers Death) I cou'd not be satisfy'd without enquiring whether this Ma­ry Hall were alive or dead: To which Sir Henry did me the Honour to reply, It was a Great piece of Iustice in me, if I had no Advantage in it my self: To which I return'd, I had not, any farther than to see to the Execution of my Father's Will. But as to this Mary Hall, Sir Henry told me, he suppos'd she dy'd at Limerick, she marrying thither from his House, to a Rich, but ill-natur'd Man, which soon ended her Days.

Pardon me (Madam) for the digression of this Story: I had some Hesitation in my own Breast about making this Enquiry; I was not satisfy'd that Conscience oblig'd me to it; but not being sa­tisfy'd without doing it, I did it; and it yet ap­pearing to me a moot Case, because I was none of the Executor, I leave it to your Determination, Whether I cou'd be under any Obligation in that case or no? This Discourse being ended, I gave Sir Henry an Account of the Reason of my coming for Ireland; with which he was so well pleased, that he promised to give me and my Auction, all the En­couragement he cou'd; for which I return'd him my humble Thanks, and so took my leave of Sir Henry for that time.

Madam, I dare not presume to give Sir Henry's Character; to describe so great a Man would be a Theam big enough for my Ingenious Friend, Mr. Charles Wormington, (a Person of great Modesty and Worth, and perhaps, the most Ingenious Poet in all Ireland;) but tho' I shan't presume to Character­ise this ancient Knight, yet I shall say (what every one does) ‘That he has the Repute of a Person of Great Honour and Probity; and of that great Judgment and Experience in Affairs of State, as renders him worthy of the Dignity of a Privy. Coun­sellor which he has been for many years; and tho' he is now arriv'd to Fourscore, (Psal. 90: 10. Ten more than the Age of Man) yet he enjoys his Health and [Page 347] ‘Strength to Admiration; which shews him to have been a Person of great Temperance, and perhaps (on this Account) he has no Equal in Ireland, or it may be, in the whole World.’

But to proceed in my Rambles: Having taken my leave of Sir Henry Ingoldsby, in my way home, I met with Lieutenant Downing, my former Fellow Tra­veller to New England. You can hardly imagine, Madam, how agreeable a thing it is to meet with an old Friend in a Foreign Country: It was some thousands of Miles off, that we were last together; and we were equally surpriz'd to meet each other here: There was in his Company at that time, Captain Annesly, Son to the late Earl of Anglesey, to whom I had the Honour to be related by my First Wife. We stay'd not long in the Street, but went to drink at the Widow Lisles in Castle-street: whither [...] to go, out of a Principle of Grati­tude, hers being the first House that receiv'd me in Dublin: After a Health to the King, (and some others of our Friends in England) we talk'd over our New-England This American Ramble is now rea­dy for the Press. Ramble: After this I told the Lieutenant of my Brother Aanesley's Death; at which he was highly concern'd. This Discourse being ended, Captain Annesley told me, That the Earl his Father, had writ an Excellent History of Ireland; but it was in such hands as he believ'd wou'd strip it of some of its choicest Remarks; and (Madam) this is likely enough; for there are some Men in the World, which are afraid of following Truth too close, lest it shou'd dash out their own Teeth. I then told Captain Annesley. I had Printed his Fa­ther's Memoirs; (the Copy of which I purchas'd of Sir Peter Pett) and he cou'd not but think 'em genuine, because of that great Amity which was be tween the Eail his Father, and Sir Peter Pett.

To give ye (Madam) the Captains Character, ‘He is a most accomplish'd Gentleman; not (as a Wit Observes) that thin sort of Animal that flutters from Tavern to Play-house, and back again all his Life; made up with Wig and Cravat, with­out [Page 348] one dram of Thought in his Composition; but a Person made up of Solid Worth, as Grave as he is Witty; Brave and Generous, and shews by his humble and courteous Carriage, that he is, and was born, a Gentleman: And for the Lieutenant, (my old Fellow-Traveller) I must say he has much Address, and as great a Presence of Mind, as was ever seen; he is most agreeable Company, and perhaps the best Friend I had in America.

After three hours spent in this Conversation, I went to Visit Captain Townley and his Lady; as also one Madam Congreve; who were all three my Fellow-Travellers in the Coach from Lon­don to Chester: ‘The Captain is a Person of Great Honour and Worth;’ and so is his Lady; but of these I shall say more in my Summer Ramble; but more particularly of Madam Congreve.

In my way home I call'd upon Mr. [...], and his Wife (stil'd, The most Ingenious) ‘Who, tho' she has Enemies, perhaps as little deserves 'em, as any Woman in Dublin;and tho' I shou'd get ha­tred by saying this, yet my way is, to do as I'd bi done by, and to speak as I find; but having Cha­ractarized the most Ingenious, 'tis fit next, that I speak of her Lord and Master; ‘He's a very ho­nest sober Man, and one of that great Modesty, that I heard he went Forty Miles to demand a Debt, which yet he was so civil and courteous as not to ask for when he came there’. But it grew late, so leaving this loving Couple at their Fine Em­broidery,

I went next to pay a Visit to Mr. Lum in Castle-street, (a Member of Parliament) and one of the chief Bankers in Dublin, whom I made use of, to remit my Moneys to London: ‘He is a Person of great Integrity, has a good Estate, and is punctu­ally just and honest in his Dealings. And to com­pleat his Character, He's a Gentleman of Extraor­dinary Sense, which he has the Happiness of being able to express in words, as manly and apposite as the Sense included under them. He treated me with much Candor and Respect, as long as I stay'd [Page 333] in Ireland. His chief Manager of his Business Mr. Purefoy, was also very obllging, and ready to serve me upon all Occasions.’

‘Captain Davis, who was also a Member of the House of Commons, gave me a most obliging Welcome to Dublin, at the Garter-Tavern in Castle-street: If I shou'd attempt this Gentleman's Character, it wou'd be to his Prejudice; for all that I can say, will come far short of what ought to be said, For Sense, Wit, and good Humor, there is but few can equal, and nono that exceed him; and all these Qualities are accompanied with great Humility. Madam, I had first the honour or being acquainted with this Gentleman at Tunbridge Wells (the same year Mr. Wallis, his Lady, and Madam More, drank these Mineral Waters) and this occasion'd the repeating of what Conversation we had formerly had at Tunbridge; from this we fell to Discourse of the Customs and Manners of the Irish; the Captain told me, they were naturally a very generous People, and so kind to Strangers, that they wou'd go Twen­ty Miles to set a Man in the right way; and if he hapned to be benighted, they wou'd give him the best Entertainment they had, and even lye out of their own Beds to accommodate him. To this piece of Generosity I might add (what was told me by a another Person) that they will likewise offer him the convenience of a Bedfellow, in case they have a Daughter capable of serving him: But (Madam) I will not be answerable for the Truth of this, which I only relate as what has been told me; and shou'd it be true, my Opinion is, they carry their Genero­sity a little too far. In my further Conversation with Captain Davis. I ask'd him what Eminent Writers they had in Ireland, and especially whether any of the Fair Sex? To which he reply'd, they had a very celebrated Female Poet (one Mrs. Taylor) who had writ her own Life to a Wonder, when but Ten Years of Age. Madam, I thought these Remark­able Passages worth noting down in my Iournal; but nothing did so much affect me as a Piece of An­siquity that the Captain told me he had seen with his [Page 350] own Eyes. He had seen a Woman very perfect in all her Senses (excepting Hearing) who said she was under Laundress to Queen Elizabeth's chief Laun­dress, and he told me he believed her to be 130 years old, which for a Woman (naturally subject to more Infirmities than Men) I think to be very ex­traordinary; and I believe your Ladyship, will be of my Opinion. I had the Honour of enjoying the Captains useful and most pleasant Company for about two Hours, when Night coming on we parted.

The day following (in the Afternoon) I went to see my Ingenious Friend, Mr. Thwaits, his Person is the very Picture of Mr. Dangerfield, to whom (madam) he is so very like, both in Person and Address (Oh what wou'd I give for such a near Re­semblunce of Iris and D—ne!) that I may well affirm, If you have seen one, you have seen the other: And having said this, I need not tell you what an Extraordinary Man he is: ‘Mr. Thwaits is a Gentle­man of a very obliging Tempet, and I believe is as generous to Strangers as any Man in Dublin; he may, without Complement, be called an accom­plish'd Person; he can do almost every thing, and tis hard to say, what he does with the greatest Grace. And as to-Wit, I was really afraid to hold any Argument with him, for I found he cou'd say what he wou'd, and prove what he said; and in this too, he resembles the Ingenious Dangerfield. In this alone Mr. Thwaits has the Advantage, That his whole Life has been so unblemish'd, even Envy her self can't fix a Blot upon him. His Lady is an Extraordinary Person, worthy of such a Husband; and they both gave me a very generous Welcome, worthy of themselves.’ In our Conversation, I af­firm'd, That a Good Wife generally, if not always, makes a good Husband; which is undoubtedly mat­ter of Fact: For tho' we suppose the Husband to be the worst of Men, and one that abuses his Wife in a villanous manner; yet his Spouse, if she be a good Wife, by her meek and patient suffering under such Abuses, cannot but some time or other (as long as he's a Man) be overcome by the Patience of his [Page 351] Wife, and at last be brought to compassionate her Wrongs; and in time this Compassion may turn him to the ways of Vertue: But then she must be as well a good Wife, as a good Woman; for there are many Pious Women that are far from being good Wives. She must be one that's of a good Humor, and always appear so to her Husband; and if in time this does not make a Husband better, he ought to be herded with the Brutes, and not reckon'd amongst humane Creatures. And yet after all (Madam) I am afraid that some such Brutes there are in the World; but this will make nothing at all against my Assertion, because there is no general Rule, but admits of some Exceptions.

My next Visit was to the Lady Sands, (Mr. Thwaits Sister) I had the honour to meet her first at Mr. Shaws (a Bookseller on Corkhill) where she invited me to her House (here I had the good luck to meet my ingenious Friend Mr. Thwaits a second time) My Lady Sands is a Person of great Piety, and extraor­dinary Sence; and I found in those few Minutes I had the Honour to enjoy her Company, that her Hus­band is as happy in a tender, disereet and obliging Wife, as any Gentleman in the Kingdom of Ireland. In this Visit I had the Favour of some Discourse with her eldest Daughter, whose Beauty, Vertue, and good Humor is equal to that of the best Ladies in Dublin. The Lady Sands, Husband is Mr. Clarksgn. Son to Mr. David Clarkson, the late Nonconformist, so deservedly famous for his learned Works. This Gentleman I was formerly acquainted with, and if I don't mistake, he was in New-England in that ve­ry year that I rambled thither; but though we had been old Acquaintance, I mist him in this Visit, and never had the Happiness to see him, whilst I was in Ireland. At taking my leave of my Lady Sands she was pleased to send Recommendations by me to her Mother-in-Law, now in England.

From my Lady Sands House I went directly to my Auction, and in my way thither I met the Ingenious Mr. Wright, an Ensign in the Army, but a Person of great Perfections, both of Body and Mind. Madam, [Page 336] this Gentleman reconciles the Lyon and the Lamb exactly; for being a Commission Officer, in the Field he seems made only for War, and any where else for nothing but Love. ‘He is naturally brisk and gay, yet one of a very compassionate Temper; and I see by him that Pitty never looks so bright as when it shines in Steel: But why do I praise particular Vertues, when he excells in all? He does nothing but what looks very handsom, and there is a Charm in the meanest, and something most bewitchingly pleasant in the most indefensible of his Actions.’ He was much surprizd to see me in Ireland; for he was Brother to one that had been my Apprentice, which was the Original of our Acquaintance: We met again by appointment that Night at the Tavern, with one Mr. Young, a Gentleman of the College, and another Gentleman to me unknown. The Ensign told me, he had that day the Honour of Dining with her Grace, the Dutchess of Ormond, which led us to discourse of the matchless Vertues of that Noble Lady, and other Subjects which I now forget. Mr. Young also oblig'd me so far, as to settle a par­ticular Friendship with me; and I wish I deserv'd the Honour he did me in that matter; for he's a Gentleman of great Humility, and I believe (if I may judge by those few Minutes I spent in his Conversation) never read of a Vertue, which he did not forthwith put into Practice. One part of our Conversation related to the Ensign, who though the Possessor of so many Excellencies, yet continues a single Man, which gave us occasion to wonder, that none of the Dublin Ladies had ingross'd so rich, a Treasure to themselves. We had appointed another Meeting before I went away, to drink my Boon Voy­age; but Wind and Tide (which stays for no Man) hurry'd me away; so I was disappointed of my intended Happiness, and forc'd to be so rude as to leave Dublin, without taking leave of some other Friends.

Having left the Ensign (and my new Friend Mr. Young) I went next to pay my Respects to the Reverend Mr. Iohn Boyse, whose ingenious An­swer [Page 337] to Bishop King, and several others of his curi­ous Composures, have so justly recommended his Learning and Piety to the World. Madam, I have already sent you this Gentlemans Character, and shall speak further of him in my Summer Ramble. He gave great Encouragement to my Auction, as well for my own sake (as he was pleas'd to tell me) as for my Reverend Father-in-law, Dr. Annesley's. He is now Preaching on the Four last Things: His Subject was Heaven, when (Mr. Larkin, and) I heard him; and he Preach'd in such an extraordi­nary manner on that Subject, as if (with St. Paul) he had been in the Third Heaven himself, and was return'd to relate what he had seen.

I next Visited Mr. Sinclare, another Nonconfor­mist Minister, in Dublin. ‘He is a most affectionate Preacher, and a Person of a sweet Disposition, and extreamly obliging:’ He gave me a hearty welcome to his House, having been before acquainted with me at Bristol. Some Discourses we had about Persecution, occasion'd him to tell me, that a Nonconformist Meeting was supprest at Gallway by the Magistrates there, whilst a Popish Meeting was suffer'd to be kept unmolested. He spake very ho­nourably of my Father-in-law, Dr. Annesley: And promis'd me, if I came again, I shou'd have all the Encouragement that he cou'd give me. I heard him preach on the 30th of September, on Mark 9. 24. about Faith, on which he made an Excellent Sermon.

Nor was my Happiness less in being acquainted with Mr. Emlyn, who is Mr. Boyse's Assistant. I met this Gentleman several times at my Auction; so that I find he was one of my Benefactors. ‘He's a very solid, rational, judicious Divine, and lives the Doctrine he Preaches.’ I heard his Sermon to the Society for Reformation, at New-Row, on 1 Sam. 2. 30. This Sermon is since Printed, and I wish (Madam) I cou'd send it to ye; for some that have read it, say a better Sermon was never publish'd.

As to the Reverend Mr. Nathaniel Weld, though I had no Personal Acquaintance with him, yet I went [Page 354] several times with Mr. Larkin to hear him; once more particularly, when he preach'd on the 130th Psalm, about Forgiveness; his whole Sermon was very excellent, but I took more particular Notice of the following Passages; We live upon Forgiveness every day: What Ioy wou'd Forgiveness make in the black Regions! The Devils nover had the offer of a Saviour; but we are still in the Land of Hope.

Madam, I have already given you a short Cha­racter of this Pious, Learned, and Excellent Preacher, and shall say no more of him here, but in my Sum­mer Ramble I shall give his and his Brethrens Cha­racters at large; for, Madam, to confess the truth (tho' I go now and then to hear a Divine of the Church of England, as I told ye before) yet that I more frequently hear the Dissenting Ministers: I don't know how your Ladyship will relish this? for I don't remember in any Discourses we had in Dublin (where I had first the Honour of being known to you) that you ever mention'd your going to any Meeting; but whatever your Practice or thoughts are in this respect,I must acquaint you, that I practise nothing that I think unlawful; and am very willing (when your Ladyship has answer'd those Twelve Hundred uncommon diverting Subjects that I intend to send ye in so many distinct Letters) to defend my Practice in this matter; for (Madam) there are but Thirty Nine Articles of the Church of England, and the Presbyterians (who are a Religious and Conscienti­ous People) approve of Thirty Six of 'em, and the rest are (justly) call'd indifferent; so that (Madam) if hereafter you'll give me leave to write to ye on this Subject, I shall endeavour to prove (in several Letters) that my going now and then to a Meeting is no unnecessary Separation, or any departing from the True Church. (For such I esteem the Church of England.)

Madam, having visited the Nonconformists, my next Ramble was to Mr. Harman, a young Gentle­man, and Son to Collonel Harman, (a Member of the House of Commons.) In this Visit, my Friend Mr. Lar­kin was with me; where, after mutual Salutations, [Page 355] (and sitting down by a good Fire) we fell into a pleasant Chat, first of Antipathles in Nature; and here Mr. Harman told us a Story of a Gentleman that bought a Muff; This Person had a natural An­tipathy against Cats, and therefore desir'd the Furrier, who sold him the Muff, that it shou'd not be lin'd with any Cat-skin; which the Furrier (who liv'd in Essex-street) assur'd him it was not; upon this the Gentleman bought it, and design'd to wear it home, but by that this he came to Crane-lane (which was not above a Bow-shot from the Furriers) the Gentle­man fell into a Swoon, and was taken up for dead; but upon the taking away the Muff, he came to himself again; but fell into a great Rage against the Furrier, threatning to kill him; which he having notice of, got out of the way.

Mr. Harman's Discourse being ended, I next told the Story of my Aversion to Cheese when I was young; and how my Father's causing me to eat it unknown, had like to have kill'd me; which Aversion notwith­standing, I afterwards overcame; and now love Cheese aswell as any Man. We then discours'd of the Antipathy that Cats have to Men; and of their taking away Mens Breath when asleep, with other things to that purpose: This led us to talk of Sym­pathy, and the Wonders thereof; and more parti­cularly of Sir Kenelm Dighy's Sympathetical Powder, and the great Cures wrought by it. From hence we fell to talk of a third Wonder in Nature, viz. Mens walking in their Sleep; of which Mr. Larkin gave a memorable Relation of a House supposed to be haunted; which was only occasioned by one of the Gentlemans Daughters, who walked in her Sleep eve­ry Night; which was at last discover'd by a Stran­ger's having Courage enough to lie in the Room said to be haunted: This naturally led us in the fourth place, to talk of Apparitions; and here Mr. Harman ask'd me what I thought of a Spe­ctrum's assuming a Humane Shape? I assur'd him they might; and to confirm this, told him the Story of one Ioseph Chambers, who appeard to [Page 340] This Mary Gossam is still living. Mary Gossam (with whom I was well acquainted) in that very Night-Cap which she put upon his Head when she had laid him out.

This Story of Chambers appearing after his Death, led Mr, Larkin to tell another of an Apparision he had seen in Staffordshire in his Youth, which he thought had been a living Woman, till he saw it va­nish; adding, That he look'd upon the denying of Spirits, and their appearing to Persons after Death, to be the next degree to Atheism.

After about two hours spent in such agreeable Conversation, we took our leave of Mr. Harman, ‘Who is a Gentleman of a fine Presence, and of a most sweet and affable Temper. He is now in the Bloom and Beauty of his Youth; and his great Ingenuity and close Application to his Study, do justly render him the growing hopes of his Father's Family, and may in time to come, render him an Ornament to the College.’

I am afraid, Madam, I shall tire you with this tedious Relation of my Visits; but I hope your Goodness will pardon me; for 'tis necessary to be thus particular, that I may silence the lying Tongue of Patrick Campbel, who has had the Impudence to say, That I kept Company in Dublin, with none but a Kennel of Scoundrels: Whereas you see (by the Visits I made) That I was not acquainted with one Scoundrel in Dublin, except himself, and the Brass in Copper-Allcy.

This naturally brings me to acquaint your Lady­ship, That among those I Employ'd to bind up Books for my Auction, ‘I had to do with one that I call Brass, a Man poor and Proud, unacquainted with Honour or good Manners; to supply the want of which, he is well furnished with Conceit and Im­pudence.’ Being thus qualified, he was look'd up­on by St. Patrick as a fit Tool for him; and accord­ly chosen for his Auctioneer, though he knew not how to read the Title of a Latin Book. But the Gentlemen of Dublin, who had been genteely treated [Page 341] with Wit and Sense at my Auction by Mr. Wilde, could not bear with the gross Ignorance of a Brass Hammer; so that Patrick was forc'd to discard him in a Weeks time, and put a better Man Mr. Shaw of Cork-hill. in his Place. This Brass knowing the necessity I was under of having my Books bound in order to sale, resolves to make me pay a rate for Binding, not only beyond what was given in London, but even beyond what was given by the Booksellers of Dublin: I found, Madam, I was in his hands, and remem­ber'd the Proverb, That he that's in a Boat with the Devil, must land where he can. There was a Ne­cessity of having my Books bound, and I was forc'd to comply with his unreasonable Rates. How this consisted with Iustice and Equity, I leave you to judge; but those were things Brass never troubled his Head about; for when he brought me in his Bill, he over-charg'd even his own unreasonable Agreement, which I refus'd to pay; but offer'd to refer it to one Mr. Servant (a Binder in Golden­lane) with whom I had made the same agreement as I did with him; but Servant being a very honest man, Brass, refus'd to have the thing decided by him, because then he was sure 'twould go against him: And therefore this Fellow (who for his Im­pudence I call the Brass in Copper-Alley) serves me with a Token from the Lord Mayor, to appear be­fore him, which I accordingly did; (as I formerly hinted in p. 104. of the Dublin Scuffle) and having told his Lordship what I had offer'd, he was pleas'd to say, It was a very fair Proposal I made him, and so dismiss'd us both, which was all he got by his Two-penny Token.

Having done with this Scoundrel (to use St. Pa­trick's Phrase) I will next give you an Abstract of Mr. Servant's Character, who, though of the same Function, is the direct Antipodes to the Brass of Copper-Alley; this being as eminent for Honesty, fair Dealing, Truth, and Iustice, as the other is for Pride, Conceit, and Ignorance. But Mr. Servant's Re­putation does not need a Foil to set it off: ‘For he [Page 358] is well known in Dublin to be all that I here say. But I shall add to the good Character he has already, that I never met with a more scrupu [...]ous, or conscientious Man in my whole Life; he's pun­ctual to his word in the smallest matters, and one that manages all his Affairs with Discretion: Cour­teous and affable in his Conversation, and ready to do every one what good he can. In short, his Life is the Exemplar of a Christians Practice. But leaving Thomas, &c. hard at work, (for he's a very industrious Man)

My next Visit shall be to Mr. Iey, and Eminent Lawyer in Dublin. He was a Benefactor to my Auction, and my very sincere Friend: And to say the Truth, whatever the Lawyers are in other Coun­tries, yet in Ireland they are the best Gentlemen and the best Christians.

From hence, to close the Evening, I went to take a Dish at Patt's, ‘who is a fair-condition'd Man, and very obliging to all his Customers: Loving to do business without making a noise on't. 'Twas here I sometimes met with Mr. Pitts, an honest and in­genious Attorney, a Man of good Worth, and un­blemish'd in his Reputation, Madam, he talks finely (dresses his Thoughts in curious Language) and has good Nature in his very Looks; he is a true lover of the present Government, and a brave Assertor of English Liberties, in opposition to Pope­ry and Slavery.’ I wou'd say more of the ingenious Pitts, but that I shall meet him again in my Sum­mer Ramble.

Madam, just as I left Patts, I met with my wor­thy and ingenious Friend, Dr. Wood, Physician in Kilkenny, with whom, and Dr. Smith. I spent some agreeable Hours, of which expect a fuller Account in the conclusion of this Letter; and also in my Summer Ramble, where you'll also meet the Discourse I had with a Gentleman about the Earl of Meath's Hunting Pigg, which will be very diverting.

And now Madam, as your several Directions to me inform'd you of the changing of my Lodgings, so I think it proper here to give you my Reasons for so doing.

[Page 359] My first Lodging was at a Counsellors in Wine-Tavern-street, who being in some danger of over­taking the Law (for he had out-ran his own Practice) left his House, and as 'tis suppos'd, the Kingdom too. Yet I must say, 'As to his Conver­sation, he's a Gentleman; (tho' un­der a Cloud) and sings (I'll find'Tis a Line in a New Song. out a kinder, a better than she, beyond any Man in Christendom:) and as for his Lady, she deserves the following Character; She's discreet and witty, the best of Wives; and I hear, has the Name for being a Beauty;’ 'tis true, I never thought her so, but I am no Judge I find; for she's bright and fair; and those that admire a R—d Colour, cry, there's no Sun but in her Eyes; but as famous as she is for Beauty, I must own, while I liv'd with her, I saw nothing but what was Modest and Honourable; and I shall ever have some Kindness for Counsellor H—as he was the occasion of my being acquainted with my worthy Friend, Mr. William Wainwright; ‘who, tho' he lives a Batcheler, is a Person of strict Modesty, and has the symptoms of a good Christian; for he's sincere in what he says, and is as Religious in all his Actions; and to crown his Character, he's a Person of great Humility, and of a most sweet natural Temper; and (Madam) I must say, there's no Vertue I'd wish in a Friend, but I find it in William Wain-wright. He was the first Acquaintance I had in Dublin; and we were so little weary of one ano­ther, that he was one of those that saw me a Ship­board (when I left Ireland) tho' to the hazard of his Life, for I sail'd in a sort of a Storm.

And as I thank H—for bringing me acquainted with this worthy Gentleman, so I'm oblig'd to him for the favour he did me in first making me known tot he vertuous and ingenious Mrs. Edwards, whose Character (Madam) I shall here give you.

‘She's a Country Gentlewoman, of admirable Per­fections of Body and Mind; modest to the highest degree, and of a most agreeable Conversation; with which, for my own part, I was very much [Page 344] delighted; and I am ready to flatter my self, mine was not altogether ungrateful to her; and how can you blame me (Madam) to think thus, since a Lady of your Quality has not disdain'd to grant me the honour of a Correspondence with you.’

Apelles, the famous Painter of Greece, when he was to draw any curious Picture, wou'd have se­veral celebrated Beauties before him, that he might draw an Eye from this, a Mouth from that, and a Meen from t'other, &c. Had Mrs. Edwards liv'd in the time of Apelles, he need not have hunted about for Beauties, for he had found 'em all in this vertu­ous Person; so I'll descend (for my general Cha­racter don't set her in a full Light) to a more parti­cular Description of her.

‘And I'll begin first with her Face, which is neither oval nor long; her Hair is black, or near it (and then I need no [...] tell ye 'tis charming.) As to her Eyebrows, they are a great Ornament to her Face, and look as exact as if the Hand of Art and Na­ture had been at Work. Excellently well propor­tion'd is her Nose, not sharp nor big; but gives a noble Air to her Face. Her Mouth little and pret­ty; her Lips of a charming Red;’

And do like to the Twins of Cupid's Mother,
still kiss, because in love with one another.

‘Her Teeth are even and well set, and look as white as Snow. Her Eyes (her tempting Eyes) full of fire and briskness, and temper'd with an at­tractive languishing. As to her Neck and Breasts they are the best sized that ever you saw, and of a dazling whiteness, as well as her Arms and Hands As to her Body, 'tis small, and of a curious shape, and is supported with handsom Legs, as I do be­lieve (for I never saw 'em.) As to her Stature, she is of a little pitch; and is so neat, so free, so disingag'd, that there's few like her; (save Rachel Seaton, whose Picture she is) and Mr.—who unsuccessfully attempted her Chastity, swears at her Vertue, and often wishes she had fewer Charms. [Page 345] She hath a noble Air in her Walk, and has the Dress, Looks, and Behaviour of a Gentlewoman; and wants nothing but a Fortune to make her so: In a word, she has something so distingushing in her whole Person, that when she was single (for you'll hear by and by she's marry'd) she more distress'd her Husband's Liberty, than others did with all their Art, and more curious Dresses; so much for her Person.’

‘As to her Mind, which is the Charm of Charms (you know Madam, I ever thought so) she's Pi­ous, but not a jot reserv'd; and has more Devo­tion in her Heart than Eyes. As to her Wit and Singing, it so strangely surpriz'd me that day she went with the Counsellor to Malhide (which Ad­venture you'll have in my Summer Ramble) that I am hardly yet come to my self; for I cou'd not conceive how a Female cou'd have (in that mean CabinAt Bally Many. where she dwells) all the Politeness and Accom­plishments of a Court. As to her Heart I can say nothing, and 'tis not sit I shou'd; but (Madam) this I'll say (by being a Platonick Lover; for I am the same in Dublin as I was in London) she allows me all the Liberty I ask, or Vertue will give, which can't be much; for I have a Wife of my own, that's (far) more charming in my Eye, and one I love above all the World; be­sides, I am by Nature as cold as Ice, and I be­lieve (If I may trust my Eyes and Ears) that she's Chast, so much as in Thought. And as she's very Innocent, so of consequence very Charitable, and speaks ill of nothing. Madam, she has other extra­ordinary Qualities I cou'd tell you of, (for this is but a hasty draught of this Excellent Person) but here's enough to shew what Mrs. Edwards really is, and what all her Sex shou'd be.

And now Madam, who'd think that a Person of such Vertue, shou'd have any Enemies? But as Dryden says, The Butt of Envy still is Excellence; and she is not without slander, tho' (I had almost said) she as little deserve, it as Vertue it self; [Page 362] but the very Reflections she meets with (as well as her real Vertues) do but add further to her good [...] Character; for 'tis none but Scoundrels (I mean such as wou'd corrupt her Vertue and can't) that give her an ill word; she's proof against the blaze of Gold: Then no wonder if a Town-Bull (such a one as A—S—) shou'd abuse that Vertue he can't de­bauch: Such as these reflect on a Woman, not be­cause she's lewd, but because they find her too Spi­ritual (too Platonick) for their Embraces; 'tis this, like Esop's Fox, makes 'em cry, the Grapes are sow­er. But the bad word of a lewd Person is the best Encomium a Vertuous Woman can have; for 'tis by the Judgment of Sober People that a Reputation stands or falls; and by all such Mrs. Edwards was highly valued. I am told, that noless a Person than the Countess of Meath, honoured her with a tender Friendship: The Lady Davis, and Madam Gilbert do the same; and she's as kindly receiv'd in Mr. Vsher's Family: Mr. Meegee and his Wife (Per­sons of great Piety) scarce covet any other Compa­ny. Mrs. Brown at the Currow has a particular Friend­ship for her; Mrs. Persons, Mrs. Ware, Mrs. Ryley, have the like; and wherever she boards, they are scarce easie a minute without her. Then Madam, I shan't ask your Pardon (or Valeria's either) for my giving this tender Character of Mrs. Edwards; for as you are both Vertuous Persons, you'd surely be angry with me, shou'd I forbear praising what so much deserves it. Besides, I am mistaken in both of ye, if your great Innocence don't set you above suspicion; ('tis only guilty People are Jealous;) or if it don't (to tell you the plain truth) my Inno­cence is too great to need my concealing my Thought of her; and the rather still, as her Hus­band has said (in the presenceof Mr. Larkin) that had he ever been Jealous ofher (as he never was in his whole Life) yet that he shou'd now believe her Vertuous, for my having a good Opinion of her; which I don't speak out of Ostentation, but to shew her Innocence, and my own too. Thus (Madam) you see, by my Character of Mrs. Edwards, that [Page 363] my Vertue is safe enough; for tho' she's a Woman (a thing in Petticoate) yet my Love is all Platomak, to all, except Valarid. (So Angels Love, and all the rest is dross.) Really Madam, I am such an Enemy to running astray, that I heathily wish Adultery were Death; and that it were b [...]r [...]ing in the Hand, so much as to kin another Man's wife: But there's no Sex in Souls; and I think it a Duty to admire Ver­tue where e're, I find it; then surely none but Scoundrels. (I mean such as are Lewd themselves) and so can't help suspecting of others, will censure a Friendship, where the Body has nothing to do; but if any are so vile as to nibble at this Character, they may go about their business; for, Madam, I have not an Acquanitance in the whole World (except your self, and the dear Valeria) but may find enough in his own Breast to damp his consuring me, or that vertuous Person whose Character I here send ye.

You see (Madam) by these words, that I am a great Enemy to Complements; nay, I often wish (as Valeria says) that there were no such thing in the World; and when I am dead and gone, I wou'd willingly come again to contrdict any one that reports me otherwise than I am, tho' he did it to Honour me.

Madam, having given ye the true Character of Mrs. Edwards, perhaps you'll be desirous to know who 'tis that is blest with so great Treasure; which obliges me to give ye the following Character of Mr. Edwards: ‘He is a Person of an indifferent Stature, neither tall, nor short; and tho' no Pre­tender to any extraordinary Perfections, is far from being contemptible: He has a Martial Coun­tenance, and a Mind like it, and will turn his back to no man in a just Cause, nor receive an Affront from any. He has not indeed the Politeness of a Courtier, but an honest bluntness, that better be­comes him: His only fault is, he has been former­ly unkind to his Wife; but he has made her part of amends, both in a just acknowledgment, and by an extraordinary fondness since; upon which she has been so generous to forgive him; and he [Page 348] takes it so very kindly,’ that they are now as happy a Couple as any that live in Ireland.

Having left the Counsellors House, (where I came, acquainted with Mr. Wainwright, and Mrs. Edwards, whose Characters I have here sent ye) I retreated for a little Air and Solitude, to Arbo [...]r-hill (a mile from Dublin) to the House of one Mr. Thomas Or­son, who with his Wife (an antient couple) seem to be like Adam and Eve in Paradise; he employ­ing himself in his Garden (where I have a Nosegay ev'ry Morning, my Landlady finding I admire Flowers) and she within doors in making of Milk-water, of which she distills very large quantities. I think my self obliged to let 'em live as long as this Paper holds, in Gratitude for those Parental Tendernesses they shew'd me when I languish'd with the Bloody-Flux; (which seiz'd me in this House.) Neither were they less kind in curing a bite given me by aOne of the Beasts I fought at Ephesus. Great Mastiff [...] who had one night torn me to pieces, had not the drawing my Sword baulk'd his At­tempt.

Madam, the Reason of my coming to this Country-Seat, was my great Indisposition of Body, and being tyred with the Hurries of Dublin; I have in my Dublin Scuffle given ye my thoughts of a Private Life, for I am as great an Admirer of it, as your Ladyship is of Gardens; and I suppose you won't blame me for it; for the three first Men in the World were a Gardiner, a Plowman, and a Grasier; even the Great Cowley, that had known what Cities, Vniversities, and Courts cou'd afford, broke through all the intanglements of it; and which was harder, a vast Praise; and retired to a solitary Cottage near Barn-Elms, where his Garden was his Pleasure, and he his own Gardiner; whence he giveth us this fol­lowing Doctrine of Retirement; and may (as William Pen says) serve for an Account how well he was pleased in his change. The first Work (saith he) that a man must do to make himself capable of the good of Solitude, is the very Eradication of all Lusts; [Page 365] for how is it possible for a man to enjoy himself, while his Affections are tyed to things without him­self. The First Minister of State hath not so much business in Publick, as a wise Man hath in Private; if the one have little leisure to be alone, the other hath less leisure to be in Company; the one hath but part of the Affairs of one Nation, the other all the Works of God and Nature under his Considerati­on. There is no saying shocks me so much, as that which I hear very often, That a man doth not know how to pass his Time: 'Twou'd have been but ill spoken by Methusalem in the Nine Hundred Sixty Ninth Year of his Life; the meaning of all this is no more than that vulgar saying, Bene qui latuit, bene vixit; He hath lived well, who hath lain well hidden; which if it be a truth, the World is suffici­ently deceiv'd; for my part I think it is; and that the pleasantest condition of Life is in Incognito: What a brave Priviledge it is to be free from all Noise and Nonsence; from all envying, or being en­vyed; from receiving and paying all kind of Cere­monies: our Senses here are feasted with the, clear and genuine Taste of their Objects, which are all so­phisticated in Courts and Cities. Charles V. Em­perour of Germany, after conquering four King­doms, &c. resign'd up all his Pomp to other Hands, and betook himself to his Retirement, leaving this Testimony behind him, concerning the Life he spent in that little time of his retreat from the World, That the sincere study of the Christian Religion had in it such Ioys and Sweetness, as Courts were Strangers to.

Thus Madam have I sent you the true Reason for my leaving Counsellor H—, and betaking my self to a Private Life; wherein, not only Antiquity pleads for me, but the Example of Cowley, and the best and greatest Men of the Age.

And Madam, as I am charm'd with a private Life, and with every day a green Prospect, so there is a dainty one adjoyning (Mr. Orson's House) my pre­sent Quarters; where I often wander up and down to think of you, and the Dear Valeria. I told you [Page 366] before, 'twas my fortune to Travel; and even in Dub­lin it self, I am not without my Rambles: One I make to represent Drapers Garden: The other Step­ney Fields: Another St. Iames's Park: And when I pass through Skinner Row (where the Scuffle was) methinks I am in Cheapside, and shall soon be at the Raven in Iewin-street, the only House on Earth As is hinted in the Dublin Scuffle. I love, Pray Madam let me know if it stands in the old place; 'tis a mighty Pleasure for us Travellers, to hear how Mat­ters goe in England. But as much as I love the Raven, I thought my self very happy at Mr. Or­son's (I mean as happy as I cou'd be without Vale­ria.) But how uncertain are worldly Comforts? For I had not (Madam) sojourned many days at Mr. Or­son's House, but I fell sick (as I said before) of the Bloody Flux, the usual distemper of the Country, and many times fatal; so that I might have iust Apprehensions of a speedy dissolution of my Earthly Frame, I being at best of no strong Constitution: To say I had no fear of Death at all upon me under these Circumstances, would savour more of an hard­ned insensibility of Heart, and Pagan ignorance, than the Piety and Consideration of a Christian; but herein an enumeration of the particulars of my past Life was presented to me, and things appear'd with very different Aspects, but yet not so frightful, but that through the Divine Goodness, I had hopes left of the Remission of all my Sins, upon the sole Ac­count of my Saviour's Merits; but I dare not be so presumptuous, as to say, my Faith amounted to an assurance of my Eternal Salvation: Yet I may say, I began more seriously than ever, to consider what I was; whence I came; and whether I was going? For (Madam) as I said before, a near prospect of Death makes the World, and all things in it, appear with a quite different face from what it did. The belief I shou'd now dye, made me to think why I liv'd; where I shou'd be buried, and what wou'd become of me after Death? I now began to review [Page 367] the whole Course of my Life; and whether, if Time wou'dSee my fare­well to Dublin. unweave my Life again to the first thread, I wou'd live just as I had done? Ah! Madam, the fashion of the World passes away; and a sick-bed presently convinces us of the Vanity of Riches, Honours, Pleasures; How mean and con­temptible do these things appear in the Eyes of a dying Man? They can't help us to a good Conscience; give a Minutes ease, or save from the Grave: Sure I am, whilst my Distemper lasted, wou'd any one ha' given me the whole World, I cou'd ha' thought of nothing but the Terrors of Death, the certainty of Iudgment, the Glories of Heaven, the Torments of Hell, the Comforts of a good Conscience; and what I must do to be saved, with the necessity of a good Life; and [...] through Mercy I am now recover'd, I hope to the end of my Life, I shall think of the World just as I did when I thought I was leaving it; and to this end I desire Death may be much in my [...]houghts, and the remaining, part of my Life a continual Pre­paration for it. We read of one, that every time he heard the Clock, cryed, well, now I have one hour less to live. I wish I cou'd imitate this good Man; however, I will look upon every day as if it were my last; that so when Death comes in earnest, I may be ready and willing to dye; and after Death I doubt not but my Body will rise again; I will therefore no longer spend my Hours in pampering of that which will be food for Worms. But I will not, Madam, enter upon all the Conceptions and Idea's I had in this Sickness, of the future World; some of 'em being perhaps more the fancy of my own Brain, than any true Representation of the thing it self: But it having pleased Almighty God to make my Illness of a short Duration, I shall from the more Melancholly Scene of Death, pass to the more pleasing Actions of Life; and take the liberty to acquaint ye, that I now began to visit my Friends, and to take some innocent Diversion abroad: But (Madam) no Pleasure is lasting with me (I find;) for I had not been long recovered, and able to walk [Page 368] abroad, but I was hurry'd from my Dublin Paradise; (I mean Mr. Orson's House) for Mr. Wild (who manag'd my Auction) being just now arriv'd from London, I was forc'd to remove to Mr. Landers's in Capel-street, that I might be nearer my Business; ‘Mr. Landers's Character resembles that of old Jacob, being a plain, but sincere hearted Man; and his Wife as good a Landlady, and one of the best of Nurses for an infirm Person, which was then my Condition; nor must I forget honest Kate, their Servant, whose Readiness and Care to please me, supply'd her want of Understanding (Point-work.)

But that my Condition in my Absence from Vale­ria, might truly resemble that of a Pilgrim, who is continually in motion, I was forc'd to remove yet nearer my Auction, upon the Information I receiv'd of my Porter's being turn'd Thief; so that from Landers's House I remov'd to Mr. Cawley's, at the Tennis-Court in Wine-Tavern-street. ‘Mr. Cawley is a very humble and agreeable Person, civil and obliging to all his Lodgers; and I must say (to do him right) to me in a very particular manner; and so was his Wife also, who is a very ingenious, discreet, and prudent Person; and both of 'em ex­press'd an uncommon concern at my parting with them,’ which was not until I came for England: Nor must I forget my Kinswoman Iuggee (as I us'd to call her) who was their trusty Servant.

Thus Madam, I have briefly given you an Ac­count of the Reasons and Causes I had for my seve­ral Removes from one Lodging to another; and how happy I was in meeting with kind Landlords. And were I in England again (and I cast longing looks that way evry day) I'd say more in their Praise; but oh this cruel distance! well, had I the same advantage of speed to send unto you at this time in this place, as they have from Scandaroon, when, upon the coming in of any Ship into Harbor, they use to send their Letters by Pigeons to Aleppo, and other Places; I say (Madam) had I such an airy Postilion, I'd send ye these Occurrences more at large.

[Page 369] Madam, If you shou'd ask me, which I lik'd best of my four Lodgings, my Answer is, I look'd upon 'em all as Places I must quickly leave, which made 'em all indifferent to me; but cou'd I have enjoy'd Valeria there, I shou'd have given the Preference to Mr. Orson's, his curious Gardens being very de­lightful, and his House a (private) Country-Seat.

Thus Madam, I have given you a brief Account of my way of Living in Dublin; with which (had I had Valeria's ('batying Company) I shou'd have thought my self very happy; for through the Divine Good­ness (bating my first fit of Sickness) I enjoy'd a competent measure of Health; those other Indisposi­tions I sometimes met with, serv'd only as Memen­to's, to put me in mind of preparing for another W [...]rld; and even under them, I was chearful and well contented; having (tho, not exempt from humane Infirmities) no guilt of any wilful Sin ly­ing on my Conscience; so that all troublesome Thoughts were banish'd from my Breast, and I pass'd away my Life with great Delight.

And now being pretty well, I had a mind to ramble into the Country for a little Conversation among the Irish (of which more anon) and to view the Cabins, Manners, and Customs, &c. of the dear Ioyes; but the Company I met in Dublin was so agreeable, I cou'd not presently leave it; and which made it yet the more delightful (after my Recovery) I sometimes convers'd with Counsellor Kairns, Counsellor Stevens, Mr. Bourn, Mr. Bos­worth, Mr. Crawcroft, Men eminent for Piety, Wis­dom, Learning, and all other Vertues; by whose Con­versation I improv'd my own Understanding; and found that the knowledge of my own Ignorance, was a great step towards being a good Proficient in the School of Wisdom.

When I cou'd not have such Company, I gave my self to Reading some useful Book or other (the Bible having always the preference) and afterwards to writing my American Travels, and Summer Ram­ble, both which I begun and finish'd in Ireland.

[Page 370] I enjoy'd also (especially when I lay at Mr. Or­son's) the Pleasure of walking in a delightful Gar­den, well furnish'd with the most curious Herbs and Flowers; whose various Colours delighted my Eye, and their Fragrancy my Smell: Besides which, I had the Satisfaction of a lovely Prospect; South­wards, towards the City of Dublin, I had the silent Murmurs of the River Lyffee in my way; Westward I had a full view of Kilmanum Hospital, which at that distance (being seated on the summit of a Hill) was a very agreeable Prospect. To the North­wards (or rather the Northwest) I had the plea­sant sight of a Village call'd Kabragh, which was pretty near; and at a greater distance, the fine Town of Finglass, seated on a Hill, where I had a noble Prospect of the Sea, and of all the Ships in the Harbor of Dublin.

Sometimes I wou'd walk down from my Lodging to the River-side, which was not a Mile from it, where the pleasant Rills of running Water were ex­tream delightful.

At other times I wou'd walk through those green Meadows from the end of Stony-batter to the Ka [...] ­ragh, which is a Village about a Mile from my Lodging, full of stately Trees, which gives a plea­sing shade, and delightful Prospect. From whence, as I came back, I had the Sea and Harbour direct­ly in my View.

And sometimes, Madam, I walk to Chappel-Izod, to visit the Lord Clonuff, who is President of the Illustrious House of Cabinteelee, and confers Ho­nours as freely as a Prince, tho' with more Cere­mony than those of the Round-Table: During the time of my last being there, he created no less than Four Noble-Men, of which the Duke of Fr [...]om was one; the Marquess of Swan-Castle carrying the Sword, and assisting at the Ceremony; but more of this in my Summer Ramble, where you'll have the History of my Lord Clonuff at large, with a merry Account of the Original of the House of Cabinteeiee, and the Ho­nours the President has conferr'd; with an exact List of the Nobility created by the said President.

[Page 371] Sometimes I wou'd for my Diversion, ride out a few Miles, either to Santry, Swords, or Mallahide; a Place as Eminent as Billinsgaie for Peoples going to eat Oysters there: And that which made these little Iourneys more delightful, was, that I had now, though at a distance, the Sea within my view, which I like well enough on shore, but not on board, for I am always sick on the Ocean.

Sometimes I walk along the Strand, up to Clan­tarff, which when the Tide is in, is very pleasant; and the next day perhaps I take a Ramble to Don­nibroe [...], Dumcondrah, Repharnum, Palmerstown, and whither else my Fancy leads me.

And sometimes I went to the Dublin Bowling­Green (perhaps the finest in Europe) either to di­vert my self by Playing, or look on those that did; where I have seen the Gentlemen screwing their Bo­dies in [...] o more Antick Postures than Prote [...]s ever knew; as if they thought the Bowl wou'd run that way they screw'd their Bodies; and many times wou'd curse it when it did not. And while I thus look'd on, I cou'd not but reflect how like the Iack is to the World, which most men covet with the greatest Earnestness, but very few obtain. And when sometimes I saw a Bowl (play'd by a skilful hand) lye very near her, it has in one small Mo­ment, by the unlucky knock of a succeeding Bowl, lain at the greatest distance from it; and others have in the s [...]me instance, been laid by the Jack, that never thought of it: just so 'tis with the things of the World; some that with Toil and Industry have gotten an Estate, by one or other unforeseen Disaster, have in a Moment lost it all; when some perhaps that never expected it, by the same Acci­dent that quite undid the other, were made Rich. So sickle are Riches, which as the Wise Man tells us, Make Prov. 23. 5 them­selves Wings, and fly away.

At other times, I have gone further off, and vi­sited some of the Irish Cities; and the first I rambled to, was Kilkenny, where I was introduc'd to the Acquaintance of my worthy and ingenious Friend, [Page 372] Dr. Wood, by the following Letter, written by an Eminent Person in Dublin, and which I'll insert here, not out of vain Glory, (for the Praises he gives me, shews that his Love had blinded his Iudg­ment) but that your Ladyship might the better see (by that Inquisitive Temper which he found in me) what variety you are like to have in my Summer Ramble.

The Letter I deliverd to Dr. Wood (from my Friend in Dublin) was this following, viz.

Dear Doctor,

THE Bearer hereof, Mr. Dunton, is my Friend, (and as such you will look upon him, as a very good and honest Gentlem [...]n) he goes to your Town to look about him, and see the place for some days; I pray oblige me so far as to let him have your Assistance to see the Castle, and such other things as his Curiosity leads him to, for he is an inquisitive Person, and a Man not un [...]it for Travel: All the Favours you do him, shall be thankfully acknowledg'd as done to

Your Humble Servant, &c.

This Letter had that Effect, that Dr. Wood and his Lady gave me a hearty Welcome, and after­wards brought me into the Company of several Gentlemen of Worth and Quality. I came to Kil­kenny on Friday Night; and the next Morning the Doctor carried me to view the Castle, (the noble Seat of the Duke of Ormond) of which I shall give a most particular Account in my Sum­mer Ramble. And indeed the Alcove Chamber and Dutchesses Closet, &c. will deserve a large Descrip­tion; but leaving these Noble Apartments, I shall [Page 373] next proceed to tell your Ladyship, That adjoyn­ing to these Lodgings is a great Window, that gave us a view of a Private Garden of Pleasure, I think finer than the Privy-Garden in White-hall, or any Walk I had ever seen: Being hugely pleased with this pleasant Prospect, the Doctor had me up one pair of Stairs, where on the left hand was the Room where the Duke of Ormond Dines; 'twas high Roof d, very large, and hung all round with Gilded Leather; the Table-Cloth was laying as we enterd the Room; and I do think the curious foldings of the Damask Napkins, and pretty Nick Nacks that adorn'd the Table (had I time) were worth a particular Description; and the Plate for the Dinner was not less remarkable; there were Three Silver Tankards embellish'd with curious Figures, and so very large, that I believe, wou'd his Grace have given me one of 'em, I cou'd scarce have dragg'd it to my Lodging; there were two Silver Salvers, as large and noble, and a Voider made of Silver, big enough to contain all, as I perceiv'd it did. Leaving this Noble Dineing-room, (for what's Dinner or Plate either, to a Man that has no right to't) we ascended two pair of Stairs, which brought us into a Noble Gallery, which, for length, variety of gilded Chairs, and the curious Pictures that adorn it, has no equal in the Three Kingdoms, and perhaps not in Europe; so that this Castle may properly be called the Elisium of Ireland: And were not the Duke and Dutchess bet­ter principled than to forget Heaven for the sake of a perishing Glory, they'd little think of Mansi­ons heteafter, who have such a Paradise at present to live in. But to return to the Description of this Noble Gallery: The first thing I saw remarkable in it (and indeed the Top-Glory of all the rest) was the Picture of the Dutchess of Ormond; the Face was finish'd, but the other parts wanted more of the Painter's Art; but I must say that of her Grace's Picture, that were all the Beauties in the World lost, it might be found again in this Painted Face; tho' that too, is as much out-done by theOrigi­nal, [Page 374] as a real Flame exceeds that of a painted one. There is also a design of drawing the Dukes [...]icture, and when both are finish'd, Dr. Wood told me they are design'd to adorn the Th [...]lsel (a sort of Ex­change;) to which will be added the Pictures of all those that have been Mayors of Kilkenny. The next Picture I saw remark [...], was the [...] Straf­ford, frowning (like a meer Nero) on the Mes­senge [...] that brought him ill News from the Parlia­ment. By him hung the Dutchess of Modena's Pi­cture (late Queen of England;) and next to her stands the late King Iames, drawn like a Man afrighted; so that I told the Doctor, I judg'd the Painter design'd to draw him just as he look'd when he fled from the Boyn. Near King Iames's Picture hangs the Picture of an old Vsurer, telling Money, and a Iew by him, which (considering the Moral of it) is pretty enough to behold.

Here is also the Picture of that chaste Prince, Charles 1. who (if you'll take his word on the Scaf­fold) ne'er straid from his Queen, in Thought, Word, or Deed; and next to him (if I don't mistake) hangs H—that lustful Queen: Here is also the Picture of Charles the Second, that Royal Libertine; but the Queen Dowager I did not see. There were great variety of other Pictures, but I reserve the rest for my Summer Ramble. But (Madam) I can't forbear telling ye at present, That at the West end of the Gallery, stood the several Ages of Man, perhaps the finest draught that the World has seen. On the left side of the Room hangs the Picture of Vandike, as drawn by himself; (and a curious thing it is) and a little below him is a Scotch Lord, drawn in that Garb he hunts, or goes to visit the Clanns. And I must not forget to tell ye, that on the South side of the Gallery, hangs two Royal Buds, Charles the Second, drawn when he was four years old; (Ah Charles! What Innocence didst thou out-live?) and Iames the Second, in hanging-sleeves; and it had been well for England, and himself too, if he had put off his Body with his little Coat, and so ex­chang'd one Heaven for another. I shou'd next pro­ceed [Page 375] to describe the Pictures of the Duke of Or­mond's Family, for in this Gallery, and in Dunmors House, (which I'll describe in my Summer Ramble) hang all the Progenitors of this Noble Duke; but to mention these in that manner I ought, wou'd require an Age. So (Madam) I must lead you out of the Gallery (tho' with a sad Heart, to leave such a pleasant Place) and next describe the Bowling-Green adjoyning to this Princely Seat; 'tis an exact Square, and fine enough for a Duke to bowl on; nay, Church and State were here at Rub, rub, rub, and a good cast; for when the Dr. and I come to the Green, the Duke was then ftinging the first Bowl; next troul'd the Bishop of—Collonel R—with about four inferior Clergy; at paying our Bows to the Duke, he gave us the honour of his Hat in a very obliging manner; and here I'd attempt his Grace's Character, had not the Inge­nious Cibbers In his Poem pub­lish'd at the Duke's landing in Ireland. done it before me; but I may venture to add to what he has said in the Duke's Praise, That the most he has said of him, is the least of what he merits; for the Duke is a Man of a truly brave and noble Spirit, and lives in the World like one that is much above it,

After making our Devoirs to the Duke, the Dr. and I left the Bowling-Green, and went next to see the Garden adjoyning to the Castle, which (tho' gone to decay) is now repairing by a young Gardener from England, and will in few years be as pleasant as the Spring-Garden near Fox-hall. Having seen what Rarities the Castle, Garden, and Town afforded, the Dr. and I parted o'er a Glas of [...]laret; and in the Afternoon, I rambled to Dunmore (another Seat of the Duke of Ormond's) and is the finest House in Ireland: On some of the Floors of this House, I told Twenty Four Rooms; the Stair-case that leads to 'em, is hung with curious Landskips, and is so very large, that Twenty Men might walk abreast; had the House but another Branch, it wou'd be a perfect H. but without this additional Beauty, per­haps [Page 376] it may boast of more Rooms than are to be found in some whole Towns: Leaving this Noble Seat, (after Peggy Corkran had shew'd me all the Ra­rities in it) I return'd that Night to Kilkenny; and from thence, the following Monday, took a New Ramble to view the Boyn, and the antient Town of Droheda; and whither I went afterwards, you shall know in my Summer Ramble. But Madam, I ask your Pardon, for I was going to leave Kilken­ny before I had told ye of the chief Raritie [...] said to be in it; which are, that in this Town there is

Fire without Smoke,
Water without Mud,
Air without Fogg.

I search'd into this Report, and found it a real Truth; and that the Fourth Element, of Earth, was also as pure.

I wou'd here describe the Town of Kilkenny, and give a particular Character of Mr. Mukins, the pre­sent Mayor, of Mr. Philips, the Mayor Elect, the Re­corder, Aldermen, and Common Council-men, and se­veral other remarkable things and Persons in this Place: I wou'd also mention the odd Adventure of a Lieutenant that travelled with me to Kilkenny; neither wou'd I omit to give you the heads of a remarkable Sermon I heard in St. Kenny Church, where an Eminent Prelate told us, That look into all Divisions of Religion, as those of Rome and Gene­va, &c. and you'll find (as they are against Monar­chy) that they have left the good Manners to the poor Church of England. Madam, I humbly conceive this Passage will deserve Remarks (by a better Pen than mine) as will several other not able strokes this good Bishop entertain'd his Auditory with; but tho' they are noted down in my Iournal, yet I reserve the rest for my Summer Ramble, lest they make my Letter too voluminous.

So (Madam) at present I take my leave of Kilken­ny, with only telling ye that Morning I left it, Dr. Wood writ an Answer to the Letter I brought [Page 377] him from my Dublin Friend, which I'll insert here, as it further shews how Courteous the Dr. is to Stran­gers, and to me in particular.

The Doctor's Answer to the Letter I brought him from Dublin.

Dear Sir,

I Receiv'd yours by Mr. Dunton, whose stay here is so short, that I have not been able to shew him what Civility I wou'd, especially being every day hurry'd with Country Business? I hope to step to Dublin in a little time, and to have the opportunity of drinking a Glass of Wine with you and him; mean while a Letter now and then wou'd be acceptable to me, when your leisure will permit. I wish you all Happiness, and am,

Your Affectionate Servant, NATH. WOOD.

And so good Doctor (with Thanks for all your Favours) I bid you and your Ingenious Lady, Farewell.

Thus (Madam) you see, by taking notice of Ca­stles, Gardens, Antiquities, Pictures, Publick Fa­bricks, the Rarities in Nature, and the Civility I meet in my generous Friends, that (where e're I go) I still learn somewhat worthy of my Know­ledge; neither do I in such Rambles omit any thing that may instruct or delight me; and am much pleased with beholding the Beauty and Scituation of Places. Neither did I (in this Country Ramble) meet with any Allay to my Pleasures by the dulness [Page 378] or decay of my Senses, for I found them all in their perfect Vigor; besides, I found Travelling got me a Stomach, which made me eat even courser fare with a better Appetite, tho' I saw little of that here, for the Kilkenny Claret is the best in Ireland; and the Doctor's Treats were still rich and noble.

Madam, having said so much of Dr. Wood's Ci­vilities to me, perhaps you'll expect I shou'd send you the Doctor's Character; which I'll do, and his Ladies too, that you may see how happy I was in their Conversation; ‘Dr. Wood, like Luke the Evangelist, Col. 4. 14. is the beloved Physician in these Parts; and he really Merits that great Respect which the People give him; he's a compleat Gentleman; very kind to Strangers, and obliging to the last degree; and I do think (if I may believe my Eyes) He's the happiest Man (except my self) that ever entred into a married State. Madam, I own a kind Wife often makes an obliging Husband of one that wou'd otherwise be very indifferent; but this is not the Doctor's case; for he's a Man of that sweet Temper, that the worst of Wives wou'd be kind to him; but he has met with one of the best; Then how happy is this Couple, that seem to rival one another in Kindness? This, Madam, will raise your Cu­riosity to know a little more of his Lady, but I dare not attempt her Character; but this I'll say, Prov. 31. 27. She looketh well to the ways of her Houshold, and speaks not a foolish word; and her Thoughts are so new, so particular, that they rais'd my wonder to a great height. In the several Visits I made the Doctor (of which more in my Summer Ramble) I cou'd scarce speak for admiring at every thing she said or did. I'm sure, Madam, if you did but know her, you'd love Ireland (tho' 'tis a course Place) purely for her sake.’ But, Madam, the Coach stays for me; so having left the Doctor and his good Lady, suppose me now on the Road for Dublin; and in my return thither, I was blest with extra­ordinary Company; they were these following, viz. [Page 379] a French Brigadeer, who gave largely to all the Poo [...] on the Road, and I think had the Soul of an Emperor; for he treated all the way from Kilkenny to Dublin; and had he spoke a Language we had understood. I doubt not but our Minds had far'd as well as our Bodies.

Sure there's some wondrous Joy in doing good;
Immortal Joy! that suffers no allay from fears,
Nor dreads the Tyranny of Years:
By none but its Possessors to be understood;
Else where's the Gain in being great?
Kings would indeed be Victims of the State;
What can the Poets humble Praise
What can the Poets humble Bays
(We Poets oft our Bays allow
Transplanted to the Hero's Brow,)
Add to the Victor's Happiness?
What do the Scepter, Crown, and Ball,
Rattles for infant Royalty to play withall,
But serve to adorn the Baby-dress
Of one poor Coronation day,
To make the Pageant gay:
A three hours scene of empty Pride,
And then the [...]oys are thrown aside.
But the delight of doing good,
Is fixt like fate among the Stars,
And deify'd in Verse;
'Tis the best Gem in Roya [...]ty;
The great distinguisher of Blood;
Parent of Valour, and of Fame,
Which makes a God-head of a Name,
And is Cotemporary to Eternity.
This made the antient Romans to afford
To Valour, and to Vertue, the same word;
To shew, the Paths of both must be together trod,
Before the Hero can commence a God.

[Page 380] Madam, having dedicated this Poem to the Me­mory of this great and generous Man (whose Boun­ty we liv'd upon) I proceed to acquaint ye, we had also in Company, a French Major, a Gentle­man of good Sense, but a little passionate.

Our third Companion was Iohny Ferguson, a very pleasant Fellow, and one that did great Feats at the Boyn. These three (with my self) were all the Men that were in the Coach; but we were not without a She-Companion, I mean the vertuous Mrs. Hawksworth, who may pass for a Wit; and if ever I go to Constantinople, it shall be on pur­pose to visit her Ingenious Son; and I must say, if he takes after his Mother, he'll scarce meet his Fel­low, tho' he shou'd girdle the World.

The Time in such Company flew too fast, and I be­gan to wish the way to Dublin had been much longer. In our way home, we had debates con­cerning the Spider's Webb, The curious work in a Turtles Nest, The Government of Bees, The love of a Spaniel-Dog to his Master, and upon other Subjects; but I wave them here, designing all our Disputes in the Coach shall be part of my Summer Ram­ble.

I was no sooner come home, and had given some necessary Orders about my Auction, but I rambled to Drogheda, and paid a Visit to the famous Boyn, so memorable for the Victory King VVilliam there ob­tained over the Irish, tho' they were Five to One; and that nothing might 'scape my View, that was worth seeing in Drogheda, Mr. VVilde sent (by me) the following Letter.

To Mr. Iames Iackson, Son to Al­derman Iackson in Drogheda.

Mr. Jackson,

MR. Dunton being willing to see your Famous Town, and the River Boyn, where King Wil­liam passed over, I desire you will help him to an Horse, and either go with him your self, or prevail with some Friend of yours to go, that knows Mat­ters and Things; I wou'd al­so have him go into aThis Currough is a Boat made of such light Materials, that a Man may pass over the Boyn in it, and then wind it up so, as to carry it in his Hand. Cur­rough, that he may carry his Boat on his Arm afterwards, I am,

Your Humble Servant, Richard Wilde.

That Morning I rid to Drogheda, the Air was sweet and kind, the Fields were Trim and Neat, the Sun benign and cherishing, and from ev'ry thing I met, I receiv'd a Civility; and which added still to my Hap­piness, I went in Company with the Minister of the Newry: ‘He's a Divine of great Learning and Worth, speaks admirably, and inspired a Soul in­to all our Company; and in my Summer Ramble I'll attempt his Character at large. He treated me that Night with a noble Supper; not for any thing he found in me, but (as he express'd it) for the sake [Page 382] of my being the Son of a Clergy-man: When I had taken leave of this Generous Parson, I went to lodge with one Mr. Watson, an Apothecary in Drogheda; I was hugely pleas'd with my new Quarters, for my Landlady (tho' a Roman Catholick) was a very ob­liging, generous Woman; and for Mr. Watson, I don't think there's an honester Man in Drogheda; I found him excellent Company, and a very ingeni­ous Man: ‘His Wit is ductile and pliable to all In­ventions (as well as to that of the Glister-pipe) from a Pin to a Pillar, nothing was so small but his Skill cou'd work; nothing so great, but his Industry cou'd Atchieve:’ After I had convers'd a while with my new Landlord, I went to Alderman Iackson's to deliver Mr. Wild's Letter; before I came to Drogheda, Mr. Wild told me what a courte­ous Person Mr. Iackson was; and when I came to his Father's House, ‘He receiv'd me in such an obliging Manner, that his Favours did transcend Report, as much as they exceeded my Desert. Madam, this Gentleman resolves to live a Batche­lor, which I cou'd not but wonder at; for doubt­less Nature meant him a Conqueror over all hearts, when she gave him such Sense, and such Beauty: (for he's a very handsome Man:) His Wit sparkles as well as his Eyes; and his Discourse charms as well as his Beauty; and I found by a little talking with him, that his Mind is none of those narrow ones, who know one thing, and are ignorant of a thousand; but on the contrary, it is so very large, that altho' it cannot be said Iackson knew euery thing equally well, yet it is most certain, he can give an excellent Account of all things; but tho' his Soul is enrich'd with every Vertue, yet I thought the most remarkable thing in him, was his great Humility, and readiness to serve a Stran­ger (for I might pass as such, having never seen him, but a minute or two in London.)’ Madam, meeting with such a Friend as this, you may well think I cou'd never enough enjoy him; so leaving his Father's House, we went together to a Place in Drogheda, where we fell into Company with [Page 383] several Gentlemen, and particularly with Mr. Single­ton. He's a young Sprigg of Divi­nity, and might have stay'd at 2 Sam. 10. 15. Jericho till his Beard was grown; but when he speaks, 'tis off hand (as they call it here) so that Nature seems to have made a Present to him, of whatever a long Study and Meditation gives out by degrees to others: He preach'd in Drogheda Church up­on this Text. And Gen. 27. 27. Jacob was a plain Man, dwelling in Tents; and I think 'twas the most ingenious Sermon I ever heard. But my Design here is only to hint at things; so I leave this young Divine, that I may come to acknowledge the generous Treatment I met in Drogheda, from Mr. Kelsey (for I don't forget the Token he sent by me to his Friend, Sir Thomas Montgomery.) This Gentleman has a great deal of Wit, and (which is rare in witty Peo­ple) is Mast [...]r over himself; walks according to the Rules of Vertue, as the hours pass by the degrees of the Sun; and being made of good humor, his Life is a perpetual Harmony; and by consequence is a great Blessing to his Wife and Children, if he has any. After Mr. Kelsey had given me a particu­lar Relation of the Boyn Fight, and we had drank a Health to his Friend in England, Mr. Iackson car­ry'd me to visit the famous Walker (the ingenious Translater of Epictetus.) He's an universal Scholar; and I do believe, were all the Learning in Ireland lost, it might be found again in this worthy Person; and he's as Pious as he's Learned: He prefers Con­science before Riches, Vertue above Honour; he de­sireth not to be Great, but to do good; and is so very exact in all he says, that his words are De­crees of Wisdom.’ When we came to this Gentle­man's House, his Scholars were acting Henry IV. and a Latin Play out of Terence; they were all Inge­nious Lads, and perform'd their parts to a wonder; but one Ellwood (who acted Falstaffe) bore away the Bell from the whole School. But Thieves! Thieves! (but no wonder, for I'm still in Ireland) [Page 384] for I had no sooner left Mr. Walker's School, but I lost my Cane, and a Silver Box. But (Madam) as Thievish as Drogheda is, I can't but think with pleasure of Ireland, as 'twas there I had the honour to be first known to your Ladyship. But more particular­ly I love Drogheda; where, for two days, the Tears I shed for the matchless D—ne, wou'd not suffer me to walk abroad. Madam, 'twas here your Ad­vice was so very seasonable, and went so far towards drying up all my Tears. But tho' I've reason to love Drogheda, as 'twas the Town where I grīev'd so much for D—ne; and as 'twas here I was blest with your kind Correction for my weeping more than became me; yet after all, Drogheda is a Thievish Place; and had I but stay'd a Week in it (as I cou'd scarce forbear, Iackson, and Kelsy were so ob­liging) I had surely been reduc'd to Primitive In­nocence; so I left Drogheda in a sort of fright, after I had seen the Mayor (who is so clear in his Trust, that his Vertues shine to Dublin, and from thence to London) the Aldermen, the Primates House, and the Mount that gave me a sight of the Boyn, that fatal place to the Popish Army. So Dear Iackson farewell, till I see thee again in London; where thou shalt be (tho [...] not so nobly treated, yet) as wel­come to me, as I was to you in Drogheda. And (Madam) the Truth is, he that confers on me Fa­vours so generously as Mr. Iackson did, steals me from my self, and in one and the same Act, makes me his Vassal, and himself my King. When I receive a Fa­vour from any Man, till I have repaid it, my Mind (as Feltham says) is a Prisoner; and till a Ransom be paid by a like return, I'm kept in Fetters, and con­strain'd to love, to serve, and to be ready, as the Con­queror desires it.

Madam, I stay'd but three days in Drogheda, and am now return'd to Dublin, where I hear from England the sad News of the death of my Owl ('tis the Bird of Athens) and has been peering for Mice in my House and Garden for three years; so out of meer love to this old Servant, I fell to write an Es­say in Praise of an Owl, and have spent about twenty [Page 385] sheets in telling the Vertues of poor Madge. A Learned Author writ in Praise of Barrenness; the Great Erasmus writ in Praise of Folly, and a late Writer has wasted a great deal of Paper in Praise of a Cows-Tail; and I cou'd not see why I might not follow such Examples, and endeavour to Praise my Owl. I confess Madam, this Subject is not grave enough for your perusal; or if it was, I'd write an Elegy on poor Madge, and send that and his Character for your Reflections; but this is a hint by the by, nei­ther will I presume to be thus merry without your leave. But (Madam) I had scarce finish'd my Owls Character (which wou'd take up a Month to tran­scribe fair) but my old rambling Maggot began to crawl, and bite afresh; upon which I immediately grew as fickle and wavering, as if I had drank Li­quor distill'd from a Womans Brains; and nothing wou'd satisfie me now, till I was on another Ram­ble; and the next I took was to Ballimany, to see the Curragh, and the running for the King's Plate. Madam, by this speedy Rambling again, you see the toyl of keeping Accounts, was a Labour too tedi­ous for my Mercurial Brains.

Being now resolv'd for a new Adventure, on Tues­day, September 11. I took a Coach to one Gents, a Mile out of Town, where my Horse waited for me; and here my Stars threw me upon good Company; (one of which they call'd Climene;) we set out for Ballimany with the early Sun, yet we had his Com­pany but a little while; for just as we had his Com­pany but a little while; for just as we got to the Fox and Geese ('tis a House your Ladyship has heard me speak of) he withdrew into an Apartment behind a Cloud, so that the day now grew very un­pleasant; but our Company was so agreeable, that bad Weather was little minded.

As soon as we had left the Fox and Geese, Clime­ne gave us a pleasant Account of the silly raving of a certain Female, whose Character expect in my Summer Ramble: This Relation occasion'd a Confe­rence about scolding Wives, and Dueking-stools, which lasted till we came to Racool, where we treated Climene with a Bottle of Cyder (for we all [Page 386] thought a Pot in our Pate was a Mile in our way;) having refreshed our selves in this little Town, on we rambled for Ballimany, diverting our selves on the Road with what we had seen and heard in Dub­lin; and at last we fell to discourse of Innocence, and the great Chastity of the brave Lucretia; we had no sooner entered on this Discourse, but a sure Em­blem of Chastity (an old man of forescore) limps out of his little House (which I'm sure he might carry on his Back) to begg our Charity; not (Ma­dam) but we had Charity, but having no Pence about us, we dismiss'd this venerable Beggar with a promise of being kind as we came back.

The next Spectacle we were entertain'd with, was the Sign of a Church; I call it so, for 'twas only a Steeple standing like a May-pole, without any Prop, but a tall Pillar, and which to us (at a great dist­ance) seemed little bigger than the Spire it sup­ported; we cou'd not but wonder at the humor of these People, that they shou'd fancy only a Steeple without the necessary Appartenance of Vestry, Pul­pit, or Chancel? but the next Person we met, told us, 'twas not the fault of the Parish, but plainly the Devils Malice to the Preaching of God's Word; for as fast as the Building went on by day, the De­vil carry'd it away by night. I then asked, Why the Steeple had better luck than the other parts of the Church? To this he reply'd, that the Parish formerly had been very wicked; and that Heaven permitted the Steeple shou'd be left standing, to upbraid the Inhabitants. Madam, if what this Fellow said was true (for we thought it a piece of banter,) this Steeple is high enough to be a warning to the Neighbouring Villages.

Being hugely pleas'd with this Fellows Answer, we jogg'd on to the Naas; we had here staid for a Dinner, cou'd we ha' perswaded our selves to have lost the sight of a diverting Passage then in view; 'twas a brace of dear Ioys, that had tyed two loaded Horses to an old Hedge, whilst they formally un­strip, and without Fear, or Wit, fall to lousing 'emselves; Climene, who cou'd be Witty when, [Page 387] and on whom she pleas'd, bid 'em be careful that they did not over-stock the Ground.

I cou'd not but laugh at this lousi [...] sight; but these being common in Ireland, we left the conside­ration of this Adventure, to discourse of the Pro­spects then in sight; for now, let us turn to the right, or the left hand, we had a charming View of the Country; not but a sight of Climene was beyond all we saw (for [...]she's a perfect Beauty;) yet (for variety sake) we wou'd now and then look about us.

Madam, being now come to the Lissee (which all pass that go to the Curragh,) that River was swell'd so high, that poor Leander (as one in our Company call'd himself) was forc'd to cross it with hisClimene. Hero behind him. I don't know what Information Climene receiv'd from her Friend Leander, but she was pleas'd to tell me, she understood I had a mighty passion for my first Wife, and that she was a Person deserv'd it; she then enquir'd, Whether I lov'd any before her? I told her I did. She then asked, Who the Person was? I told her 'twas one Rachel—who was so very Beautiful, that a Venus might have been form'd out of her Person; and yet her Wit did far exceed her Beauty. Having said so much, Climene ask'd me a hundred Questions about Rachel; as, Whether she was Rich? What were her Parents? How we came to part? And whether I continued to love her after I Marry'd Eliza? I told her I did not; but cou'd not but own I took a mighty Pleasure in Rachel's Company before I knew Eliza (tho' after I knew her, I scarce loved any thing else;) and because Rachel admir'd Poetry, I made my Courtship to the Muses too, that I might be the more grateful to her; and, Madam (can ye believe it,) I had the good fortune to write some­thing in Rachel's Praise, which met with a kind Reception; I first presented 'em to her (and she being tickl'd with my Commendations) shew'd 'em to her Scotch Friends, and others; for Clara now (for so I call'd her,) pretended to out-doe me [Page 388] in Tenderness. But (Madam) these Poetick Essays had an effect different from what I intended; for I design'd by 'em, only to make my own Addresses to her the more acceptable; but she, by shewing 'em abroad, got the name of a Wit (and having ac­quir'd a Reputation beyond what she had before,) began to value her self at a higher Rate, and to treat me with Disdain; I won't so blind with gazing on her Face, or charm'd so much with her Witty Letters, but I cou'd see with what Contempt she treated me; and seeing, cou'd not but resent it to that degree, that I thought it my Duty to humble her; and in order to it, I sent her the following Lines;

Know Clara, since thou'rt grown so proud,
'Twas I that gave thee thy Renown;
Thou'dst else in the forgotten Crowd
Of Common Beauties liv'd unknown,
Had not my Verse exhal'd thy Name,
And impt it with the Plumes of Fame.
That killing Power is none of Thine:
I gave it to thy Voice, thy Eyes:
Thy Sweets, thy Graces, all are mine;
Thou art my Star, shin'st in my Skies:
Then dart not from thy borrow'd Sphere,
Lightning on him that plac'd thee there.
Treat me then with Disdain no more,
Lest what I made, I Vncreate;
Let Fools thy Mystick Forms adore;
I know thee in thy Mortal State:
Wise Poets that wrapt Truth in Tales,
Knew her themselves through all her Vails.

[Page 389] How Clara resented this Poem, I never ask'd, for her Pride had given me enough of her (Pride was never yet found in a noble Nature, or Humility in an unworthy Mind,) and so I left her; and I appeal to you, Madam, Whether I had not reason to slight her? As for Climene (my Fellow Traveller) she gave her Judgment in my Favour; and (Madam) I want to know whose part you'll take; fo [...] this is the Wit I so often mention'd to D—ne; and 'tis your Judgment (alone) that can determine whe­ther I did well or ill.

As we walked along, Leander wou'd now and then put in a word against Clara's Inconstancy; but Wells (another of our Fellow Travellers) cou'd not hear the Story without railing at the whole Sex; upon which Climene banter'd 'em both. This urg'd 'em again to ask Climene, How many whineing, Slaves she had murder'd her self (for she was very handsom, and very Witty) but (Madam) neither Climene, nor any of the Company, wou'd come to Confession.

In such Discourses as these, we pass'd away the melancholly day, 'till we came to Ballimany (our intended Quarters.) 'Tis a small Village of poor Ca­bins, and an old Castle, of which there is abundance in Ireland, built, it is said, by the Danes, long be­fore the coming of the English into it; they are square strong Buildings of Stone, with a small Door, and stone Stairs, and Windows like Spike­holes, purposely for strength; for as the Danes en­larged their Frontiers, they built these Castles on them as curbs to the Neighbouring Irish.

Madam, I have often had occasion in some of my Letters, to mention these Cabbins, or Huts, but now take the description of them; ‘They build them by putting two forked sticks of such length as they intend the height of the Building, and at such distance as they design its length; if they design it large, they place three or four such forks into the Ground, and on them they lay other long sticks, which are the ridge Timber; then they rais the Wall, which they make of Clay [Page 390] and Straw temper'd with Water, and this they call Mudd; when the Wall is raised to a sufficient height, which perhaps is four foot, then they lay other small sticks, with one end on the ridge piece, and the other on the Wall; these they wattle with small hazels, and then cover them with straw, or course Grass, without any Chimneys; so that when the Fire is lighted, the smoak will come through the Thatch, so that you would think the Cabbin were on fire: Another sort of their Cabbins is made by laying one end of the stick upon the bank of a Ditch, and the other up­on a little bit of a mudd Wall; and then, when 'tis wattled, they cover it with Heath-straw, or scraws of Earth; and into this miserable Place will half a dozen poor Creatures creep for shelter and Lodging; but their Beds are upon such a firm Foundation, that nothing but an Earthquake can move them: Instead of Feathers or Flocks, they they use Rushes or Straw, which serves them with­out changing. Sheets they never provide, and to tell the naked Truth, unless they can purchase a poor Cadow, which is not often, they ligg toge­ther like Adam and Eve before the Fall, not a Rag to cover them, but themselves; which may be one reason why they so multiply; each little Hut be­ing full of Children. They seldom have any Par­titions or several Rooms; but sleep in common with their Swine and Poultrey; and for second or third Story, you may look long enough e're you find any. But as the Building of Versailes are so very Magnificent, as not capable of such a description that may give a just Idea of them; so these, in the other extream, are so very wretch­ed things, that perhaps the Pen of the noblest Architect wou'd be very defective in describing them. Behind one of their Cabbins lyes the Gar­den, a piece of Ground sometimes of half an Acre, or an Acre, and in this is the Turf-stack, their Corn, perhaps two or three hundred sheaves of Oats, and as much Pease, the rest of the Ground is full of their dearly beloved Potatoes, and a [Page 391] few Cabbages, which the solitary Calf of the Fami­ly, that is here pent from its Dam, never suffers to come to Perfection. Madam, I shou'd more ex­actly have described their Dwellings or Cabbi [...]s, if I durst have adventured oft'ner into 'em; or cou'd have staid in 'em (for Lice and Smoak) when I was there.

But to proceed in my Rambles: Next Morning early, without regarding any Ceremony, we made our Visit to a Popish Father, who was just up, and wiping his Eyes; the Weather was very fair, and we stay'd at the door (which had a little green Field before it) until the Room within was swept to re­ceive us; the Dew lay in pretty Spangles on the Grass, made by refraction of the Sun Beams: I had a mind to try the Father's Philosophy, and enquired what the Dew was? He told me, 'Twas a Wapor that fell up­on the Ground in the Night Sheason, and that the Sun drawed it up again in the Day; but Climene told him it was an old and vulgar Notion, and ex­ploded by the newest Philosophers, who were of Opinion, it might be either the m [...]isture which the Horses of the Sun shake from off their Mains, when they were put into his Chariot rising out of the Sea▪ or that it might be Thetis's Chamber-Maids had em­ptied Phebus▪ Pot as soon as he was up; or lastly, and that more probably, it was the sweat of the Grass and Herbs condens'd by the cold of the Evening Air. Her Notions made us all laugh, and the Priest swore by St. Patrick's Hand, she was as Witty as she was Pretty; and put some other Complements on her, the best of which were much beneath what she truly deserves. The House was now ready, and the Maid came to call us in, where we broke our Fast, and prevailed with Father A—to accompany us to Kildare, where we were going to be Merry; his Palfrey was presently sadled, and we mounted; we soon came to the Curragh, so much [...]noised here. It is a very large Plain, covered in most Places with Heath; it is said to be five and twenty Miles round; this is the New-Market of Ireland, where the Horse-Races are run, and also Hunting Matches made, [Page 392] there being here great store of Hares, and more game for Hawking, all which are carefully pre­served: They have a Tradition (I fancy 'twas taken from the Story of Dido's purchasing so much Ground as she could surround with an Ox-hide, on which she built Carthage) That St. Bridget, the great Saint of Kildare, begg'd as much Land from one of the Irish Kings, for a common Pasture, as she could environ with her Frize Mantle; the Prince laugh'd at her, and bid her take it; she cut her Mantle into so many small shreds, as when tack'd together by their ends, surrounded all this Curragh or Downs.

Kildare is an ordinary Country-Town, not near so good as the Naas, though it gives a Name to the County, and is an Episcopal see, tho' but of small Revenues; and is now therefore united to the Deanry of Christ-Church, which is the King's Royal Chappel in Dublin, as the Bishoprick of Rochester is to the Deanry of Westminster in England. It has in it the Cathedral Church, with two or three Inns, and those very sorry ones; it has two Fairs yearly, and a weekly Market, and sends two Burgesses to the Parliament; yet after all, it is but a poor Place, not lying in any Road, and not having any Trade belonging to it; there are some shops with Hops, Iron, Salt, and Tobacco, and the Merchant not worth Forty Pound. This County gives the Title of Earl to one of the Family of the Fitzgeralds, formerly called Geraldines, who came over into Ireland among the first Adventurers in Henry the I [...]'s. Reig [...]; and is now the First Earl here, as Oxford is with you; here we din'd on a Dish of large Trouts, and with some Bottles of Wine, made our selves merry; when we took Horse our Landlord told us we must accept of a Dugh-a-Durras from him, which is a drink at the door; he had a Bottle of Brandy under his Arm, and a little wooden Cup, with which he presented each of us a Dram; from hence we went about two Miles backward towards the Kings Country, to view the Earl of Kildare's Chair; It is an old Castle built on the side of an [Page 393] Hill, which over-looks all the Neighbouring Country I was told it was built by some of the Earls of Kil­dare, as a Watch Tower, for which purpose it was very well plac'd.

From hence we had a lovely Prospect towards the North, of a noble Vale, part of which was cover'd with Corn, and part with Cattle, with some Woods; among which were seen some Houses of good bulk and shew, raising their Heads; beyond these were Hills, on which stood several great Houses, a fine River ran through the V [...]lley; on another side the greatest part of the Curragh lay open to our View, which indeed is a noble Plain.

After we had satisfied our Eyes with staring about, we steered our Course towards the Bogg of Allen; which, tho' it be the greatest in Ireland, yet never was so famous as in the last Rebellion, where the Rapparees (who are a loose undisciplin'd People) had their Rendezvous when they design'd any Mischief on the Country, to the number of five or six hun­dred, and where they easily hid themselves when pursu'd; for as I am inform'd, this Bogg is near fifty Miles long, with many Woods in it, and some Islands of very good and profitable Land; as the Island of Allea, which they say is worth eight hun­dred Pounds per Annum.

Madam, His Majesty, for Encouragement to breed large and serviceable Horses in this Kingdom, has been pleas'd to give an hundred Pounds per An­num out of his Treasury here, to buy a Plate, which they run for at the Curragh in September; the Horses that run, are to carry twelve Stone each; and therefore there are several fine Horses kept here­abouts for the Race, in Stables built on purpose. There is another Race yearly ran here, in March or April, for a Pla [...]e of an hundred Guinea's; which are advanced by the Subscription of several Gentle­men, and the Course is four measur'd Miles.

Madam, on Thursday the 13th of September, was the day of the Race this Year for the King's-Plate. There was a vast concourse of People to see it, from all parts of the Kingdom. My Lord Galway (one [Page 394] of the Lords Iustices) was present at the Race, and other Persons of great Quality. I met on the Cur­ragh (where the Race was run) with my worthy Friend, Mr. Searl, whose Character you have in my Dublin Farewel, and several others that I knew in Dublin; after the Race was over, our Company rid to Ballimany; at this Village is a little thatch'd House, like one of our English Country Houses, built by the Earl of Meath, After we had seen all the Rooms in this Noble Man's thatcht House (which I design to describe in my Summer Ramble) we left Ballimany, and did'd that day at the Naas, and reach'd Dublin about nine in the Evening.

But (Madam) if the Predictions of Astrologers be true, such Men as I am, are very Mercurial Folks, I mean the Planet, not the Mineral: For (Madam) you that know me, will believe I never had any great occasion for it; I had not been long in Dublin before the Itch of Rambling broke out again upon me, though I once thought the Fatigue of my Curragh-Ramble would have abated the sharpness of it, as effectually as Brimstone and Butter does that in the Skin; but what's bread in the Bone, will never out of the Flesh; and I among the other Sons of Adam, am in a literal Sense born to great Travels; and some People are surely so much delighted with the Vari­ety of change, that like other Epicureans, they will purchase the fancied Pleasure through thousands of Difficulties that attend the acquisition: Not imper­tinent to this, is what I remember to have read in the celebrated Mr. Boyle, of one who was born blind, because of the adhesion of her Eye-lids; and her Parents living far in the Country, from any Physi­cians or Surgeons, thought her Mallady incurable, until the time she was about Eighteen years old; when, being called to London about some business likely to require a long Attendance, he brought his blind Daughter, with the rest of his Family, to Town; where the Vnion of her Eyelids being sepa­rated by a Surgeon's Lancet, she immediately per­ceiv'd a thousand pleasing Objects; she beheld every Minute, new things with Admiration; and not sa­tisfy'd [Page 395] with seeing, as soon as she could conveni­ently go abroad, she was every day on the Ramble, as if she intended to make up for the losses she suffer'd by her former darkness: and when she became ac­quainted with the Objects of the Town, she begg'd leave to roam about the Country, not without Ex­pressions of some Inclinations to satisfie her Eyes with a view of all the World could afford her. Of this Girls Humor my Landlord found me; for now (af­ter I had setled the Affairs of my Auction) I tra­velled East, West, North, and South; and (Madam) shou'd I tell ye what Irish Cities, Towns, and Villages I [...]ext saw, I shou'd lead you such a Wild-goose Chase, I shou'd tire ye quite, but not my self, for I am never weary with traveling. But (as much as I love rambling) I have just now receiv'd a Letter from Valeria (crowded with desires to see me) which will shorten my Ramble, some thousand Miles. I'll see but Europe, Asia, Africa, America, or so, dat is all, and be in London by Plato's year; not but I'm a huge lover of Travels, ‘and wou'd gladly view the Globe Coelestial too (as I told the ingenious D—ne) before I return; I mean climb so high as to hang my Hat upon one horne of the Moon, and touch the North Pole with my Middle Finger. But (seeing you admire I ramble thus) let me go down from the Moon a little, to tell your Ladyship, that had you but seen Italy, (and those other Countries I am bound to) you'd rather envy then pitty my rambling Fate.

Alas! Madam, to change my Bed, troubled not me, for I cou'd sleep contentedly in America, Ire­land, Wales, &c. or in any place; for if I had the hardest Lodging, I cou'd dream of my Valeria with as much Satisfaction, as if I had been sleeping on a Bed of Down; and when I awake, I please my self with thinking that in a little time I shall see her again: And where-ever I ramble, I'm still con­tent, for there's a wheel within a wheel, and nothing comes to pass by chance.

As to my very Auctions, if things went prospe­rously: there, I look'd upon it as an effect of Divine [Page 396] Favour, and return'd God the Praise; if otherwise, it put me on Examining my self, and humbling of my Soul before my Maker; and I look on all cross Accidents as Tryals of my Patience. And indeed, still upon self-Reflections, I rather wonderd that things went so well, than found my self concern'd they went no better.

When Patrick took my Auction Room over my Head, it was for him that I was troubled most; that he should deal so barbarously with one that never gave him any cause for't; I was well satisfy'd in my own Innocence, and thought I was concern'd to make the World so, by letting of 'em know the Truth [...] things; and then to leave the issue to that Wise Providence that best knows how to order all things for his Glory and my Good.

You may suppose perhaps (Madam) there are no Beggars in Dublin, since I have all this while been so silent, and said nothing of Alms-giving; but as­sure your self (Madam) to the contray; for to the best of my knowledge, I never saw them so thick any where else, in the whole course of my Life; and how to carry my self in respect to these Wretches, has been a matter which often disturb'd me; to give un­to all, is impossible; for a Man then must be richer than Croesus; and not to give at all, is Vnchristian; but the main Difficulty lies in the right distribution▪ and to relieve those who are most necessitous; but who can know this? For I have heard Bishop Hall say (he that was Bishop of Oxford) that once walking through Moorfields, a Beggar follow'd him with great Importunities, and desir'd him for Christ's sake to give him something, for he was ready to starve; the Bishop (not thinking him a fit Object for Charity) told him, if he refus'd to give him any thing, he believ'd he'd Curse him; no, said the Beg­gar, indeed Sir I won't; well then, said the Bi­shop, I'll try thee for once; upon which the Beg­gar fell a Cursing and Swearing at him like a very Devil.—Madam, when I meet with such vile Beggars as these, I serve 'em as the Bishop did; but I am (Madam) if I don't flatter my self, na­turally [Page 397] Compassionate, easily affected with the Mi­series of other Men in any kind, but much more when I see old Age go a Begging; and 'tis such that have been the principal Objects of my Charity; and next to them, the Blind. I never conceive the Beggar-man the more necessitous, by being the more importunate and querilous; and of this sort no Man, I believe, has been attended with a much greater Train: Indeed I have heard your old Eleemo­sinaries, who have been train'd up to the Trade from their younger years, (as I am satisfy'd many have been, both in England and Ireland) can, by long Experience, and constant Observation, readi­ly distinguish, even in a Crowd of Men, a com­passionate Face; and will single him out, as I may say, to be the Object of their Importunities. But after all, Madam, in matters of the distributions of Charity, the right hand is not to know what the left does.

And now, Madam, having given you some Ac­count of my Conversation in Ireland (both in City and Country) and also given ye some HINTS of my several Rambles in it, and what I observed in 'em. Perhaps you may think by this time, I have seen enough of Ireland, to be able to give your La­dyship some general Character of it: I confess, Ma­dam, I am very bad at Descriptions, but a general Character of the Dear Ioys being what I formerly promised the ingenious D—ne, I shall now send it to you (her other self) and hope your Goodness will be as willing to pardon all my Mistakes in it, as hers wou'd ha' been, had she liv'd to have read what I here send ye. Then give me leave to tell ye in Rhime,

Off in the Seas, and downfall of the Skies,
With Water compass'd round, a Nation lyes;
Which on the utmost Western Ocean hurl'd,
Fixes the Ne Plus ultra of the World.
Water the Bowels of this Land does clog,
Which the weak Sun converts into a Bogg.
[Page 398] The Sun, whose great and generous Influence
Does Life and Warmth to ev'ry Place dispence,
O'ercome by th' innate Venom of this Air,
Can't draw it it but, but leaves the Poyson there;
So true is what the Natives vainly boast,
No Poysonous thing lives on the Irish Coast;
Because their Air is with worse Poyson fill'd;
So has a Toad been by a Spider kill'd.

Perhaps (Madam) you may think I am too Po­etical, and may expect a more particular Account of the Country and People where my Conversation at present lies; so I shall now proceed to a Prose-Character of the Dear Ioys: And here I shall give ye a g [...]pse of the C [...]untry; or, as it were, a ge­neral view of my Irish Rambles. And, as an Irishman is a living Iest, 'twill be merry and pleasant; but a little Mirth must be forgiven to a Traveller, who has little else to keep h [...]m alive.—Then to pro­ceed to the Prose-Character of Poor Teague; and here I must first acquaint ye, ‘That the Gentleman who trip'd lately to Ireland, calls it the Watering-Pot of the Planets; and the French have named it, Le Pott de Chambre du Diable, the Devil's Piss-pot; seldom dry, but often running over, as if the Hea­vens were a wounded Eye, perpetually weeping over it. 'Tis said there is but one good thing in Ireland, and that is, the Wind, as 'tis generally Westerly, and sits fair to carry one out of it; which makes good the old saying, 'Tis an ill Wind blows no good.

Some of their Chief Cities are tolerably good, but most of them more Populous than Rich (Dub­lin excepted) for though they are thronged like Hives, yet being for the most part Thieves and Drones, they rather diminish than encrease their Stock; and were it not for the honest English, and Strangers amongst them, I am perswaded in process of time, they'd be all starv'd; so that of all the Places I have yet seen, give me Ireland to won­der at; for my part, I think 'tis a sort of White Fryars at large, and Dublin the Mint to it; here's [Page 399] nothing but Roguery; in every street you pass, you'll either meet with some high-way Taylor, or some Errant unsatisfy'd Pugg, that drinks nothing but wicked Sack. But at Dublin they have a Re­corder, (who at present is Mr. Handcock) ‘who, besides the Reputation that he has for his Know­ledge of the Laws, has also acquir'd that of a cou­ragious and just Magistrate, impartially putting them in Execution against lewd and wicked Peo­ple, without regard to any degree of Quality or Riches; Instances of which are frequently seen in his punishing Swearers with Two Shillings for each Oath, according to a New Act of Parliament; and setting insolvent Persons in the Stocks; and many of the stroling courteous Ladies of the Town have, by his Orders, been forc'd to expose their Lilly-white Skins down to the waste at a Carts tail; by which he is become, at once, the fear and hatred of the Lewd, and Love and Satisfaction of Sober Persons.’ Both Church-men and Dissenters are joyn'd in this noble work of exposing Vice, and all little enough; for tho' Whores are whipt every Sessions, (I saw seven but yesterday capering before the Beadle) yet the Prostitutes here are such very Prostitutes, that I heard Mr. Y—say (an old Fornicator in this City) that tho' he had spent his Estate on a Whore in Dublin, that his Rival no sooner appeared, but she clung to the best Chap­man. In this case (to use a Term in my Auction Catalogue) he that bids most is the Buyer; and if any difference arise, which the Gallants cannot decide, Miss lyes with both, rather then lose a Customer. So that you see Madam, such things as Chastity, Wit, and good Nature, are only heard of here; such Vertues as Temperance, Modesty, and strict Iustice, (which your Ladyship possesses in so high a degree) have the same Credit with the Beaus of Ireland, which the Travels of Mandevil find with us. I do not hereby design any thing of the true Gentry, or Nobility, amongst whom there are Persons of as great Valour as fair Estates, as good Literatur [...] and Breeding, and as Eminent▪ Vertues, as in any of [Page 400] the most Polite Countries. But really, Madam, if you go into the Country, (as far as Galway) they are as bad, if not ten times worse, then I relate 'em; for the Men here e'en steal into the World (lying hickle-de pickle-dey, they are half Bastards) and ever after Thieving is as natural to 'em as eating; and for this Reason there's scarce a Town without a Pillory in it; Bellimany has one or two; Carlow has two or three (I think the strongest I saw in Ireland) Kilkenny I think as many; 'twas here I lost my Ring, my Gloves, and my very Comb; and when I charge 'em with it, they cry, the Devil burn 'em, if they are Thieves; and swear by Chreest and Shaim Patrick, that they never saw it. Madam, I suppose you have heard of Irish Evidence? and I must say, a Carted Bawd is a Saint to 'em. I lay at Kilkenny but four Nights, but here is such a Den of Pick­pockets, that I think the Thieves in Drogheda are Saints to 'em.

I saw in my Ramble to Kilkenny, that Inclosures are very rare amongst them; much of their Land is reserved for Grazing and Pasturage; and there, in­deed, the Grass being very sweet, and holding a ‘constant verdure, it is (as a late Author observes) in many places so indented with Purling Brooks and Streams, that their Meadows look like a new Green-Carpet border'd or fringed with the purest Silver; yet Hay is a rarity amongst them, and would cost them more pains than they can well afford, towards the making of it; therefore they seldom or never trouble their Heads or Hands a­bout it. And then for their Arrable Ground (as the same Author observes) it lies most commonly as much neglected and unmanured as the sandy Desarts of Arabia, or a ranting young Gallant's old Bed-rid Spouse.

Their Women generally are very little beholding to Nature for their Beauty, and less to Art; one may safely swear, they use no Painting, or such like Aux­lliary Aids of Fucusses, being so averse to that kind of Curiosity; (tho' they have as much need thereof as any I ever yet beheld) that one would think [Page 401] they never had their Faces wash'd in their whole Lives.

As to their mishapen Legs (as a witty Gentle­man expressed it) I'll lay them aside, and next talk of their Courtships.

Amorous they are as Doves, but not altogether so chaste as Turtles, desiring as much to be billing, and very frequently bringing forth Twins. as the others hatch young ones by Pairs. There needs no great Ceremony or Courtship, for they generally yield at first Summons.

The Men, as Birds of the same Nest and Feather, differ only in the Sex, not in their good Humour and Conditions.

Bonny-Clabber and Mulahaan, alias sowre Milk, and Choak-Cheese, with a Dish of Potatoes boiled, is their general, Entertainment▪ to which add an Oa [...] ­cake, and it compleats their Bill of Fare, unless they intend to shew their excessive Prodigality, and tempt your Appetite with an Egg extraordi­nary.

Thus Madam, have I given you a brief, but ge­neral Character of Ireland, which I have intermixt with what I found by the Dear Ioys, and what I say of these, I send to you as the Character of the better sort of [...]eagues; for as for the Wild Irish, What are they, but a Generation of Vermin? they have Impudence enough to louse in the High-way. I have seen six Men at it together, and a Mile farther, as many Women at the same sport; and what is yet more shameless, the Women were half naked. 'Tis true, in the Infant Age, when the Innocency of Men did not blush to shew all that Nature gave 'em (indeed because they did no more then that taught 'em) I shou'd not have wonder'd at such sights; but considering the Removes we are now from Adam, I cou'd not but blush for 'em. If you peep into forty Cabins (they are as spacious as our English Hogsties, As was hinted before, in p. 390. but not so clean) you'll scarce find a Wo­man with a Sm—k to her Back, or a Pettycoat can [Page 402] touch her Knee; and of Ten Children (for they are full of Brats, for the reason I formerly hinted) not one has a shooe to his foot; and when one laughs at their Nakedness (as who can forbear that is flesh and blood) they cry, fye! fye! English Mon, you see nothing but what ish her own. And these Irish Pa­rents are as proud as they are naked; and rather then dishonour (as they call it) their Sons with a Trade, they suffer 'em to beg for their daily bread; and for themselves, they are so lazy, that those of 'em that are not Thieves (and of that number is scarce one in a thousand) they live by the drudge­ry of their poor Wives.

But however careless they be of the Living, they are mightily concerned for the Dead, having a Cu­stom, of howling when they carry any one to Buri­al; and screaming over their Graves, not like other Christians, but like People without Hope: and soon­er than this shall be omitted, they do hire a whole Herd of these Crocodils to accompany the Corps; who with their counterfeit Tears and Sighs, and confused Clamour and Noise, do seem heartily to bemoan the departed Friend; though all this is with no more concern and reality, than an Actor on the Theatre for the feigned Death of his Dearest in a Tragedy. Instead of a Funeral Oration, they bawl out these or the like querulous Lamentations, O hone! O hone! Dear Ioy, why didst thou dye and leave us? Hadst thou not Pigs and a Potato Garden? Hadst thou not some Sheep and a Cow, Oat-cake, and good vsquebaugh to comfort thy Heart, and put Mirth upon thy Friends? Then, wherefore wouldst thou leave this good World, and thy poor Wife and Chil­dren? O hone! O hone! with much more such stuff; to all which, Dear Ioy, lending but a deaf Ear, sleeps on till Doomesday; while home they go to Drink, and drown the present Sorrow; till the Me­lancholly fit comes upon them afresh, and then they resort to the Grave, and bedew it again with Tears; repeating and howling their O hones with as much deep Sence and Sorrow as before.

[Page 403] They have many other extravagant Customs daily practised at their Weddings and Christnings; but I reserve these for my Summer Ramble▪ so I'll con­clude their Character with only saying, They are a nest of disarm'd, lewd, lousie, lazy Rebels, that have a Will, tho' not the Power, to cut our Throats.

I shou'd next speak of their Priests (fit Shep­herds for such Wolves) but you'l meet 'em often in my Malhide Ramble, with my Conferences with 'em; so I'll drop 'em here; but will send ye a further Account of my Summer Ramble by the next Post: For, Madam, my Mind is always with you, and my Dear Friends in England, tho' at present I am in the Country of Wrath and Vengeance; but my Ink is too clean for a further Description. Yet Madam, if you'd see the Picture of Poor Teague more at large, I'd refer you to a Book call'd, The Descrip­tion of Ireland, that Ingenious Author being the Person I so often quote in this Character of the Dear Ioys. Thus (Madam) by what I ha'e said, you see what an excellent Country Ireland is for a young Traveller to be first season'd in; for let him but view it as much as I did, and I dare undertake he shall love all the rest of the World much better ever af­ter, except Scotland and France; of which more when I get thither.

If you ask, Why I stay in such a vile Country? Why, Madam, he that's in a Boat with the Devil, must land where, and as soon as he can; however, I'll stay till you answer this; and then, Hoa! for Scotland, France, Italy, and next the Hellespont; (for my Geography is now rectified by my learned Friend;) and 'tis very likely the length of my Ram­ble will exceed the size of my Hour-Glass: How­ever,

—All may have,
If they dare try a glorious Life or Grave.
Herb. Ch. Porch.

And (if I hear Valeria's well) I care not whether I meet the Sun at his Rising, or at his [Page 404] goingSee more of this in the Dub­lin Scuffle. p. 142. down. All Places are alike distant from Heaven; and that a Man's Country where he can meet a Friend. Thus Ma­dam, (when 'tis my Duty) you see I can ramble in earnest.

Madam, having now dispatch'd the Character of the Dear Ioys, and troubled you with a thousand other Impertinencies, (that I may still keep within the bounds of my Conversation) I'll proceed in the last place, to give you an account of the parting Vi­sits I made when I left Ireland, and with those con­clude this long and tedious Letter.

Madam, in these parting Visits, I had the Happi­ness of being accompany'd by my two Friends, Mr. Wilde, and Mr. Larkin; I have already given you a brief Character of Mr. Larkin; and it would be unjust not to give you Mr. VVilde's, who has de­serv'd so good a one from me, by his faithful mana­ging my Auction. ‘Mr. VVilde (Madam) was born a Gentleman, being descended from an Ancient Family in Herefordshire, and brought up to learn­ing till he was fit for the University; but his In­clination leading him rather to a Trade, he was bound an Apprentice to George Sawbridge, Esq the greatest Bookseller that has been in England for many years, as may sufficiently appear by the Estate he left behind him; for (besides that he was Chosen Sheriff of London, and paid his Fine) he left behind him four Daughters, who had each of 'em for their Portions, Ten Thousand Pound apiece; and you may easily imagine, Madam, that serving a Master who drove so great a Trade, he cou'd not fail of understanding Books, without he was greatly wanting to himself: Which he was so far from being, that I need not make any scruple to a [...]irm, That there are very few Booksellers in Eng­land (if any) that understand Books better then Richard VVilde: Nor does his Diligence and Indu­stry come short of his Knowledge; for he is inde­fatigably Industrious in the dispatch of Business; of which his managing my Auction, is a sufficient [Page 405] Proof: He far exceeded even my Expectation, and gave the Buyers too, such great Content, that had I not seen, I cou'd hardly have believ'd it. Nor does his Talent lie in knowing Books only, but he knows Men as well too; and has the Honour to be personally known to very many of the Nobility and Gentry of the first Rank, both in England and Ireland; and there's scarce a Bookseller in Dublin but has a Kindness for him. If any thing hates him, 'tis the Fair Sex, for his living so long a Bat­chelor; but they might excuse him, for he's too busie to think of Love, and too honest to Marry for Money; and I believe scorns to creep (for 'tis be­neath a Man to whine like a Dog in a Halter) to the greatest Fortune in Dublin; not but Wilde is of a courteous affable Nature, and very obliging to all he has to do withal; and 'tis visible by his Carriage, he was bred (as well as born) a Gentle­man. He had a good Estate to begin the World with, but has met with Losses; yet when his Stars were the most unkind (as was confest in my hearing by his raving Enemy) he was still as ho­nest as ever; and being always just in his Dealings, he now, like the Sun (just come from behind a Cloud) shines brighter and fairer then ever: Some Men are only Just whilst the World smiles; but when it frowns, they act such little Tricks, as ren­ders their Vertue suspected. But VVilde ever pre­serv'd his Integrity, and is the same good Man un­der all Events; and as he was ever just in his Dealings, so I must say his Universal Knowledge in Books render him a fit Companion for the best Gentleman; and his great Sobriety, a fit Compa­nion for the nicest Christian; and to add to his Reputation, Where [...]s a greater VVilliamite in the three Kingdoms, then Richard VVilde? Madam, he has done such Eminent Service to the present Government, that he can't in time but meet with an ample Reward; and 'tis but just to think he shou'd be prefer'd, for he's a true lover of his Majesty, and the present Government; and a stre­nuous Asserter of the Rights and Liberties of the [Page 406] People, and the Protestant Religion, in opposition to Popery and Slavery; and this he has been from his Youth; insomuch that for shewing his Zeal in these things, even while he was an Apprentice, the Tories and Iacobites (by way of derision) call'd him Protestant Dick. And by his Management of my Auction, he has given, both to my self and others, such a Specimen of his Iudgment, and great Fidelity, that the Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Clogher has done him the Honour (in his Let­ter to me) to tell me he is extreamly satisfy'd As may be seen in p. 52. of the Dub­lin Scuffle. in Mr. Wilde's Fidelity. I do assure you, Madam, I am so well satisfy'd in his Conduct herein, that were I to keep an Auction as far as Rome it self, Mr. Wilde should be the sole Manager. But tho Mr. VVilde really merits the Character I here give him, yet he being one whom I convers'd so much with in Dublin (which my Inclination wou'd have led me to, if my Business had not) he al­so is one of St. Patrick's Kennel of Scoundrels; by which you may also know what to think of St. Pa­trick, whose Characters run counter to the Senti­ments of all honest Gentlemen. And yet even in this Patrick is true to himself, and hereby de­clares he hates Honesty and Ingenuity, where-ever he finds it.’

But Madam, I fear you will think me too long in my Character of Mr. Wilde; and I fear so too, with respect to your Ladyship; tho' as to himself, I have not yet done him that Iustice he deserves from me; and therefore must remain in his Debt, till I publish my Summer Ramble.

But I'll now proceed to the Account of my part­ing Visits; the first of which, was rather an Invita­tion, than a Visit; to the House of Dr. Phoenix, who invited my self and three of my Friends, to wit, Mr. Wilde, Mr. Larkin, and Mr. Price, to Din­ner. He lives in that part of the City which is call'd St. Thomas Court; and is a peculiar Liberty belonging to the Earl of Meath: We found the [Page 407] Doctor Discoursing with the Dean of Killalloo, who Din'd with us: At our first coming, the Doctor sa­luted us all in a very obliging manner; but was pleas'd to pay me a most particular Respect, in re­gard (as he express'd it) ‘that I had so much ob­liged the Nation in general, and himself in parti­cular, by bringing so large a Collection of valuable Books into the Kingdom.’

After this first greeting, the Doctor had us into his Laboratory, and there shew'd us his Stills, and several great Curiosities. Before Dinner we had some Conversation with the Dean about the Power of Imagination; and the Dean told us he knew a Man at Barnet, near London, about Forty years ago, that profess'd to have a constant Converse with the Dead; affirming, that while he was discoursing with others, he was at the same time conversing with the Dead. This Man wou'd utter many strange Expressions of his Discourses with dead Peo­ple, and pretended by this Converse, to tell things done at that Moment a vast distance off, which af­terwards, upon Enquiry, prov'd true. But Dinner then coming up, put an end to our Conversation, and found us other Business to do, then to talk of melancholly People.

After Dinner, the Doctor's Lady told us this Remarkable Story: That some years since, having been deliver'd of a fine Girl, two Ladies that were then the Doctor's Patients, desir'd the Baptising of the Child might be deferr'd till they were able to go abroad, because they had a mind to stand Gossip [...] to it. But the two Ladies not being well enough to go abroad, so soon as they thought at first, a Months time was passed since the Birth of the Child, all which time it remain'd unchristen'd. But one day, as the Doctor's Lady was in her Chamber, looking for something which she wanted in a Press, on a sudden she cast her Eyes back, and saw sitting down in a Chair, an Vnckle of hers, which had been dead several years; at which being somewhat sur­priz'd, she a [...]k'd him how he did? And he, on the contrary, ask'd her, What was the reason she did not [Page 408] christen the Child? She told him it was because her Husband promis'd two Ladies shou'd be Gossips to it, and they were both yet indispos'd, and cou'd not come. The Spectrum then call'd her to come to him, which she accordingly did, and he em­brac'd her in his Arms, and kiss'd her naked Bosom, which she said she felt extream cold: He then ask'd, her where her Husband was? And she told him where. After which, he charg'd her to let the Child be christned the next day at three a Clock [...] [...]he Afternoon; and then went away, she knew not how. When the Doctor came home, his Lady told him what she had seen, and desir'd the Child might be Christen'd, according to the Charge given by the Spectrum; but the Doctor was Unbelieving, and still resolv'd to defer it till the two Ladies could come to be Gossips. But the time prefix'd by the Spectrum being past, and the Child not Christen'd, that Night the Bed-Cloaths were attempted to be pull'd off, she crying out to the Doctor for help, who pull'd the Cloaths up with all his Strength, and had much ado to keep 'em on, his Wife in the mean time crying out grievously that somebody pinch'd her. And the next Morning, viewing of her Body, they found she was pinch'd black and blue in several places. This did not yet prevail with the Doctor, to have his Child Christen'd till the two Ladies cou'd come to be Gossips. But a day or two after, when the Doctor was again abroad, and his Lady alone in her Chamber, there appeared to her ano­ther Spectrum in the likeness of her Aunt (who had been dead near 20 years before) with a Coffin in her hand, and a bloody Child in the Coffin, asking her in a threatning manner, Why the Child was not Christ­ned? She reply'd (as she had done to her Unckle be­fore) that her Husband delay'd it on the Account of two Gossips which could not yet come. Where­to the Spectrum (with a stern Countenance) said, Let there be no more such idle Excuses, but Chri­sten the Child to Morrow, or it shall be worse for you, and so disappear'd. The Lady all in Tears tells the Doctor of the Threatning of this She-Spectrum, and [Page 409] prevails with him to have it Christned the next day; and in three days after, the Child was over-lay'd by the Nurse, and brought home in a Coffin all bloody, exactly like that which was shewn her by the last Spectrum. The Doctor confirm'd that part of the Story which related to him; and as to the Spectrums, his Lady aver'd before my self, Mr. Wild, Mr. Larkin, who was present at these Relations, is now living in Hand-Ally in Bishops-gate-street. Mr. Larkin, and Mr. Price, that what she related, was no­thing but Truth. The Doctor (after the Story was ended) made this In­ference from it, That the Baptizing of Infants was an Ordinance of God, or else it had not been so much in [...]ul [...]ated by two Persons or Spirits risen from the Dead. But my Friend Mr. Larkin reply'd to the Doctor, that he was of a quite contrary Opinion, and said it was a great Argument against Infant Bap­tism, that the Devil was so earnest to have it done. And when they both referr'd the Matter to the Dean, he put it off, by saying. We had some Dis­course before Dinner of the Power of Imagination, and this seems to be some of the Effects on't.

After this Discourse was ended, Dr. Phoenix caus'd a Robbin-red-breast (which he had in a Cage) to be brought into the Dining-room; where it enter­tain'd us whilst at Dinner, with singing and talking many pleasant things; as sweet Lady, Is the Packet come? What News from England? and several such Expressions which the Doctor's Lady had taught it. The smalness of this Bird renders its talking the more remarkable; and perhaps Madam, this Robin-red-breast is one of the greatest Rarities in Ireland, if not in the whole World; and I believe Dr. Phoenix thinks so; for (as small as this Bird is) he told me he'd not sell it for 20 Guinea's; and I do think, were it sold to the worth of its pleasant Chat, 'twou'd yield a thousand.

After I had stay'd the utmost Limits that my Time would allow me, I took my leave of the Dean, and then returning the Doctor and his Lady [Page 410] Thanks for their Kindness (both to my self and my Friends) we took our leave; the Doctor wishing me a boon Voyage to England, and a good Iourney to London. But the Doctor is a worthy Person, and I can't leave his House [...] I have given Character of him; besides, his Civilities to [...] so many and gr [...], that not to acknowledg [...] [...] (in a just Character of him) wou'd be very [...]; for he was a great Encourager of my Auction, and a very generous Bidder. But to proceed to his Character, ‘Dr. Phoenix is a little Jolly black Man, but so very conscientious, that he's as ready to serve the Poor for nothing, as the Rich for Money. His great Skill in Physick has made him famous; and which renders him the more Eminent, his Prescriptions are generally successful, and his Aurum Potabile never fails. His wise Advice has rescu'd more languishing Patients from the Jaws of Death, then Quacks have sent to those dark Regions; and on that score Death declares himself a mortal Enemy to Dr. Phoenix; whereas Death claims a Relation to meer Pretenders to Physick, as being both of one Occupation, viz. That of killing Men. But tho his great Success makes Patients throng to him, yet is he a modest, humble, and very good Man, as appears by this; at his first coming to a sick Man, he perswades him to put his trust in God, the Fountain of Health. The want of such seriousness hath caus'd the bad success of many Physitians; for they that won't acknowledge God in their Applications, God won't acknowledge them in that Success which they might otherwise expect.’ I wou'd be larger in the Doctor's Character, but af­ter all, must come short of it; so will add no more about him, but shall now attempt his Ladys Cha­racter, of whom I might say many pretty things; but (Madam) I fear I shall tire you; however, I say 'em all in little, by only telling your Ladyship, that the Person I'd here describe, is Doctor Phoenix's Wife, I say, Madam, 'tis Praise enough to say, she is Dr. Phoenix's Wife, and that she merits so good [Page 411] a Husband. Then let the learned World debate as long as they please about the Nonsuch Bird, this La­dy proves (by her great Vertues) that in Dublin (if no where else) is to be seen a She-Phoenix.

Leaving Dr. Phoenix's House, our next Visit was to the College of Dublin, where several worthy Gentle­men (both Fellows and others) had been great Bene­factors to my Auction: When we came to the Col­lege, we went first to my Friend Mr. Young's Chamber; but he not being at home, we went to see the Library, which is over the Schollars Lodgings the length of one of the Quadrangles; and con­tains a great many choice Books of great Value, particularly one, the largest I ever saw for breadth; 'twas an Herbal, containing the lively Portraictures of all sorts of Trees, Plants, Herbs, and Flowers: By this Herbal lay a small Book, containing about 64 Pages in a Sheet, to make it look like the Giant and the Dwarf. There also (since I have menti­oned a Giant) we saw lying on a Table, the thigh­bone of a Giant,) or at least, of some monstrous over-grown Man, for the Thigh-bone was as long as my Leg and Thigh; which is kept there as a convincing Demonstration of the vast bigness which some humane Bodies have in former times arriv'd to. We were next shew'd by Mr. Griffith, a Ma­ster of Art (for he it was that shew'd us these Curio­sities) the Skin of one Ridley, a notorious Tory, which had been long ago Executed; he had been begg'd for an Anatomy; and being flea'd, his Skin was tann'd, and stuff'd with Straw; in this passive state he was assaulted by some Mice and Rats, not sneakingly behind his Back, but boldly before his Face, which they so much further Mortified, even after Death, as to eat it up; which loss has since been supply'd by tanning the Face of one Geoghagan, a Bopish Priest, executed about six years ago, for stealing; which said Face is put in the place of Ridley's.

At the East End of this Library, on the right hand, is a Chamber called the Countess of Baths Library, filled with many handsome Folios, and [Page 412] other Books, in Dutch Binding, guilt, with the Earls Arms imprest upon them; for he had been sometime of this House; on the left hand, oppo­site to this Room, is another Chamber, in which I saw a great many Manuscripts, Medals, and other Curiosities.

At the West End of the Library, there is a Divisi­on made by a kind of wooden-Latice-work, con­taining about thirty p [...]ces, full of choice and curi­ous Books, which was the Library of that great Man, Arch-bishop Vsher, Primate of Armagh, whose Learning, and Exemplary Piety has justly made him the Ornament not only of that College (of which he was the first Scholar that ever was enter'd in it, and the first who took degrees) but of the whole Hibernian Nation. At the upper end of this part of the Library, hangs at full length, the Pi­cture of Dr. Chalon [...]r, who was the first Provost of the College, and a Person Eminent for Learning and Vertue. His Picture is likewise at the En­trance into the Library; and his Body lies in a stately Tomb made of Alabaster. At the West end of the Chappel. Near Dr. Chaloner's Picture (if I don't mistake) hangs a new Skeleton of a Man, made up and given by Dr. Gwither, a Physitian of careful and happy Practice, of great Integrity, Learning, and sound Judgment, as may be seen by those Treatises of his, that are inserted in some late Phi­losophical Transactions. Thus (Madam) have I gi­ven ye a brief Account of the Library, which at present is but an ordinary Pile of Building, and can't be distinguish'd on the out-side; but I hear they design the building of a New Library: And I am told, the Hoose of Commons in Ireland have vo­ted 3000 l. towards carrying it on.

After having seen the Library, we went to visit Mr. Minshul, (whose Father I knew in Chester) ‘Mr. Minshul has been Student in the College for some time, and is a very sober, ingenious Youth; and I do think is descended from one of the most courteous Men in Europe. (I mean Mr. Iohn Min­shul, Bookseller in Chester.) After a short stay [Page 413] in this Gentleman's Chamber, we were led by one Theophilus, (a good natur'd sensible Fellow) to see the New-house, now building for the Provost; which when finish'd, will be very noble and mag­nificent.

After this, Theophilus shew'd us the Gardens be­longing to the College, which were very pleasant and entertaining. Here was a Sun-Dyal, on which might be seen what a Clock it was in most parts of the World. This Dyal was plac'd upon the top of a Stone, representing a Pile of Books. And not far from this was another Sun-Dyal set in Box, of a very large compass, the Gnomoh of it being very near as big as a Barber's Poll. Leaving this pleasant Garden, we ascended several steps, which brought us into a curious Walk, where we had a Prospect to the West of the City, and to the East of the Sea and Harbour▪ On the South we cou'd see the Mountains of Wicklow, and on the North, the River Liff [...]e, which runs by the side of the College. Ma­dam, having now (and at other times) through­ly survey'd the Colledge, I shall here attempt to give your Ladyship a very particular Account of it; tis call'd Trinity College, and is the sole University of Ireland; it consists of three Squares, the out­ward being as large as both the inner▪ one of which, of modern building, has not Chambers on every side, the other has; on the South side of which stands the Library, the whole length of the Square. I shall say nothing of the Library here (having al­ready said something of it) so I proceed to tell ye, Madam, tha [...] the Hall and Butteries run the same range with the Library, and separates the two in­ner squares; it is an old building, as also the Re­gent [...]house which from a Gallery looks into the Chappel, which has been of late years enlarged, be­ing before too little for the number of Scholars, which are now, with the Fellows, &c. reckoned about 340; they have a Garden for the Fellows, and another for th [...] Provost, both neatly kept; as also a Bowling green, and large Parks for the Students to walk and exercise in. The Foundation consists of [Page 414] a Provost (who at present is the Reverend Dr. Georg [...] Brown, a Gentleman bred in this House since a Youth, when he was first enter'd, and one in whom they all count themselves very happy; for he's an Excellent Governour, and a Person of great Piety, Learning, and Moderation) seven Senior Fellows, of whom two are Doctors in Divinity; eight Iuni­ors, to which one is lately added by—and se­venty Scholars; their publick Commencements are at Shrovetide, and the first Tuesday after the eighth of Iuly. Their Chancellor is his Grace the Duke of Ormond; since the death of the Right Reverend the late Bishop of Meath, they have had no Vice-Chan­cellor, only pro re nata. The University was founded by Queen Elizabeth, and by her and her Successors largely endowed, and many munificent Gifts and Legacies since made by several other well-disposed Persons; all whose Names, together with their Gifts, are read publickly in the Chappel every Tri­nity Sunday in the Afternoon, as a grateful acknow­ledgement to the Memory of their Benefactors; and on the 9th of Ianuary, 1693. (which com­pleated a Century from the Foundation of the Col­lege) they celebrated their first secular day, when the Provost,See his Character in my farewell to Dub­lin. Dr. Ash, now Bishop of Clogher, Preach'd, and made a no­table Entertainment for the Lords Justices, Privy Coun­cil, Lord Mayor and Aldermen of Dublin. The Sermon Preached by the Provost, was on the Sub­ject of the Foundation of the College, and his Text was, Mat. xxvi. xiii. Verily I say unto you, Whereso­ever this Gospel shall be Preached in the whole World, there shall also this that this Woman hath done, be told for a Memorial of her; which in this Sermon the Provost apply'd to Queen Elizabeth, the Foundress of the College: The Sermon was Learned and In­genious, and afterwards Printed by Mr. Ray, and dedicated to the Lords Justices, who at that time were, the Lord Henry Capel, Sir Cyril Wiche, and William Duncomb, Esq In the Afternoon, there [Page 415] was several Orations in Latin spoke by the Scholar [...], in Praise of Queen Elizabeth, and the succeeding Prin­ces: And an Ode made by Mr. Tate (the Poet Laureat) who was bred up in this College. Part of the Ode was this following;

Great Parent, hail! all hail to thee;
Who hast the last Distress surviv'd,
To see this Ioyful day arriv'd;
The Muses second Jubilee.
Another Century commencing,
No decay in thee can trace,
Time, with his own Law dispensing,
Adds new Charms to every Grace,
That adorn'd thy youthful Face.
After Wars Alarms repeated,
And a Circling Age compleated,
Numerous off-spring thou do'st raise,
Such as to Juverna's Praise,
Shal [...] Liffee make as proud a Name,
As that o, Isis or of Cham.
Awful Matron, take thy Seat
To celebrate this Festival;
The Learn'd Assembly well to treat,
Blest Eliza's Days Re call:
The Wonders o [...] her Reign Recount,
In [...] that Phoeous may surmount,
Songs for P [...]oe [...]us to repeat.
She twas that did at first inspire,
And tune the mute Hibernian Lyre.
Succeeding Princes next recite,
With never dying Verse requite
Those Favours they did show'r:
'Tis this alone can do [...]em Right;
To save 'em from Oblivion's Night,
Is only in the Muses Power.
But chiefly recommend to Fame,
MARIA, and Great WILLIAM's Name,
Whose isle to Him her Freedom owes:
And surely no Hibernian Muse
Can her Restorers [...]raise refuse,
While Boyn and Shannon flowes.

After this Ode had been sung by the Principal Gentlemen of the Kingdom, there was a very diverting Speech made in English by th [...] Terra Filius. The Night concluded with Illuminations, not only in the College, but in other Places. Ma­dam▪ this day being to be observ'd but once in an hundred years, was the Reason why I troubl'd your Ladyship with this Account.

H [...]ving Re [...]arded Theophilus for his readiness to shew us the Gardens, & we took our leave of the College; and from thence I went (Mr. W [...]lde and Mr. [...]arkin [...]eing still with me) to take my leave of the Honourable Collonel Butler of St. Stephen' s Green, to whom I was greatly obliged, both as he was a great Encou [...]ager of my, Auction, and as I had all along his Countenance and Favour in it, espe­cially when there was some Persons that had a mind to [...] and banter my Auction; but by this wor­thy Gentlemans appearing against 'em, and resent­ing the Affront as done to himself, they quickly cry'd Pecav [...]. Madam, it wou'd be too great Pre­sumption in me to attempt this Gentleman's Cha­racter, for I shou'd but dim the lustre of his bright­er [Page 417] Vertues, by all that I cou'd write. But the noble Favours I receiv'd from Collonel Butler, oblige me to a publick Acknowledgment; tho' all I can say of him, will be like losser Maps of the large world, (where every Prick sets down some ample Shire, and every Point's a City.) ‘His brave and generous Soul is so well known, that 'tis but wasting of time to tell it; then where can I begin, or where shall I end? Shou'd I s [...]eak of his Learning, I might c [...]ll him the Mec [...]enus oo I [...]eland; for the B [...]oks he buys do by their number sufficiently de­clare his Love to Learning; [...] by their Value and intrinsick Worth, the va [...]ness of his Judg­ment: Neither is he less remarkable for his affable Carriage, his sweet and obl [...]ging Disposition, his large Charity, his singular Humility, Iustice, Tem­perance, and Moderation; and I do believe his no­ble Attainments in the Art o [...] [...] has no pa­rallel in the Kingdom of Ireland. Madam, I wou'd proceed in the Collonels Charect [...]r▪ but I fear his Great Modesty will make [...]im think I say too much, tho I am very sure all that know him will think I say too littl [...]

When we came to the Collonels House he receiv'd me (and my two Friends) in a most [...]iging man­ner; after our first Salutations, [...]he had us [...]to his Dinning-room, hung round with curious P [...] ­ctures, all of his own drawing; some of which were King Edward the vith▪ the Lady Iane Gray, the two Charles's, King William and Queen Mary, with others which I now forgot: When we were all seated, the Collonel told me he took my coming to see him very kindly, and that if he came to London, he wou'd do himself the Honour of repaying my Visit. We next fell to discourse of the Auctions I made in Dub­lin, and here the Collonel was pleas'd to say: I had been a great Benefactor to the Kingdom of Ire­land, by bringing into it so large a quantity of good Books. I thank'd him for the Honour he did me by that Expression; and further added, that if all my Buyers, had been so generous as himself, my Venture had been very fortunate. This Discourse [Page 418] about my Auction, naturally led us to talk of Pa­trick Campbel (the grand Enemy to it) and after I had told the Collonel what Treatment I had from Campbel, he said I had just Reason to vindicate my self; and that he believed there never was a fairer Auction then mine, or a better Auctioneer then Mr. Wilde; and therefore, Madam, I dedicate the Dublin-Scuffle to Collonel Butler, as a generous Pro­tector of an injur'd Stranger: Upon the taking my leave of the Collonel, he express'd himself very sorry that I was leaving the Country, and said, If ever I return'd with a second Venture, he wou'd Encourage it all he cou'd; for this I return'd him my humble Thanks, confessing my unworthiness of those many Favours I had receiv'd from him. Then taking my final leave, he gave me that endearing Salutation, which is the great Expression of kindness among the Gentlemen of Ireland; after this tender Favour, he honour'd me so far, as to s [...]y, he shou'd be wishing for Westerly Winds (for my sake) till he heard I was landed; and so with wishing (Mr. Larkin and my self) a good Voyage, we part­ed well satis [...]y'd in the Honour done us by the no­ble Collonel.

Madam, I told ye that Collonel Butler was very remarkable for his great Humility, and generous Temper; and you see by his obliging Expressions to Persons so much below him, how much he me­rits that no [...]le Character of being humble; I call it so, as Pride lessens (or rather disgraces) Men of the highest Rank, as much or more then it does others; and therefore 'tis, tho' Collonel Butler is very emi­nent for ev'ry Vertue, yet if he excells in one more then another, 'tis in his Great Humility; which further appears by his inviting me of [...]en to see him, and (if I may be so proud to use his own Expressi­on) in being pleased with my Conve [...] sation.

Having left the Collonel's House, we all three return'd to our several [...]dgings. In our way thi­ther, we went to take our leaves of the Reverend Mr. Searl (at his House in Brides Alley) and of my worthy Friend Mr. Iones (as his House in great [Page 419] Ship-street) but neither of 'em were at home; how­ever, I had the happiness of seeing Mr. Iones's Sister (a Person Eminent for her great Piety) with whom I left a million of Thanks for all the Favours I re­ceiv'd from him. And here I parted with my two Friends (Mr. VVild and Mr. Larkin) and the next day (it being the last for taking of Farewells) every one went as his Humor and Fancy led him. And the first Ramble I took this Morning, was to take my Farewell of Rings-End (where I had two or three good Friends) 'tis about a Mile from Dublin, and is a little Harbour like your Graves-End in England; I had very agreeable Company to Rings End, and was noblely treated at the Kings Head; after an hours stay in this dear Place (as all Port-Towns general­ly are) I took my leave of Trench, VVelsted, and two or three more Friends, and now look'd towards Dublin; but how to come at it, we no more knew then the Fox at the Grapes; for though we saw a large strand, yet 'twas not to be walk'd over, be­cause of a pretty rapid Stream, which must be crossed; we enquir'd for a Coach, and found no such thing was to be had here, unless by accident; but was inform'd that we might have a Rings-End Carr, which upon my desire was call'd, and we got upon it, not into it▪ It is a perfect Car with two VVheels, and towards the back of it, a seat is raised cross ways, long enough to hold three People; the Cushion we had was made of Patch-work, but of such course kind of stuff, that we fancied the Boy had stol'n some poor Beggars Coat for a covering; between me and the Hor [...]e, upon the cross barrs of the Carr, stood our Charioteer, who presently set his Horse into a Gallop, which so jolted our sides, tho' upon a smooth strand, that we were in Purga­tory until we got off at Lazy-hill, where I pay'd 4d. for our fair of a Miles riding, and almost as pleas'd as the young Gentleman that drove the Chariot of the Sun wou'd have been, to be rid of his Seat; however they are a great Conveniency, and a Man may go to Rings-End from Dublin, or from hence thither, with a Load of Goods, for a [Page 420] Gro [...]t; and we were told, there are an hundred and more plying hereabouts, that one can hardly be disappointed.

I parted with my Fellow Traveller in Essex-street, and from thence I went to take my leave of my honest Barber, Mat. Read upon Cork-hill; and because I found him a generous Lad, I won't leave him without a Character; ‘He is a Man willing to please, and the most genteel Barber I saw in Dub­lin, and therefore I became his quarterly Custo­mer; but as ready as he is to humor his Friends, yet is he brisk and gay, and the worst made for a Dissembler of any Man in the World; he's generous and frank, and speaks whatever he thinks, which made me have a kindness for him; and 'twas not lost, for he treated me every quarterly Payment, and w [...]s obliging to the last, being one of those dozen Men that feasted me in Essex street, the Friday b [...]fore I left Dublin; and that wit­ness'd to the Attestation concerning my Con­versation. He has Wit enough, a great deal of good Humor, and (tho' a Barber) Owner of as much Generosity as any Man in Ireland. And if ever I visit Dublin again, Mat. Read (or in case of his Death) his Heir and Successor, is the only Barber for me. And as for his Spouse (tho her Face is full of Pock-holes, yet she's a pretty litt [...]e humour'd Creature, and smiles at ev'ry word.’

Having shook hand with honest Matt. I went next through Copper Alley to Skinner-Row, for a parting glimpse of Brass and Patrick Campbel; for tho' they had treated me ill (and that's the Reason why none but they, and [...] old Usurer, have a block Cha [...]acter in the Dublin Scuffle) yet I had good Nature enough (tho' not to discourse, yet) just to see 'em when I left Dublin. From paying this silent farewell, I went to th [...] Th [...]lsel, where I sawAn Apo [...]hecary in [...] Row. Mr▪ Quin the present Lord Mayor for the City of [...]ublin. Perhap [...] Madam, you'l wonder that I shou'd send ye so ma­ny [Page 421] Characters, and have yet omitted to send the Character of a Person in such an Eminent Station; but the Reason was, I stay'd to be throughly in­form'd, before I attempted the Character of my Lord Mayor: But Madam, I am now able to give ye his true Character; and the least I can say of his Lordship is, ‘He's a Person of great Justice and Integrity (as I found in the See more of this in the Dublin Scuffle. hearing I had before him) a couragious [...]agistrate, and a true lover of his King and Country; and has the love of all good Men: But there's no need of any more then reading the Flying P [...]st of Feb. 16. 1699. to know him as well as it he stood before us; for there 'tis said, Dublin Feb. 7. Our Citizens are mightily pleased with the Lord Mayor, on the account of his Proceedings against the Bakers, and relieving the Poor from their Oppressions; a Congratulatory Poem hath been lately Printed and presented to him; on this occasion: Thus far the Flying Post, in which you see that Courage and Justice I told ye was so Emi­nent in him. But this faithful discharge of his great Trust, is what the Citizens of Dublin might expect from him; for Prudence and Piety have visibly sh [...]'d thro' all the Actions of his Life; and 'tis not Honour or Power alters the Temper of a good Man; and therefore 'tis, since he has been chosen Lord Mayor of the City of Dublin, that his Conduct is such, that he is not only a Pattern fit to be imitated by all that shall hereafter succeed him, but in many things 'twill be difficult for any to resemble him; and therefore no wonder the Citizens of Dublin have fixt him in so large a Sphere of doing good; a private Post was not large enough for the service Heaven design'd by this active Magistrate; nor a As was said of my Reverend Father-in-law, Dr. Annosly. Hi [...] high enough for the notice of one so Exemplary; and to render him the more compleat, 'this brave Soul of his has the happiness to live in a very [Page 422] beautiful Tenement; and't had been pity i [...] shou'd have liv'd in any other.’ But I shall stop here, for I had not the Honour to be personally known to his Lordship; so I shall leave the Thol [...]e [...] without any other Farewel then what I have given in this Character; and from hence shall step to the Bull in Nicholas-street, to take my leave of one who is call'd (what she really is) The Flower of Dublin; ‘no Citizen's Wife is demurer then this Person, as I found at the first greeting▪ nor draws in her Mouth with a chaster Simper, and yet a vertuous good Woman, and very obliging to all her Customers;’ and I left her, with some regret: And next rambled to Cow-lane, to take my leave of the Lady Swancastle, who is deservedly fa­mous for her great Love to her Husband. Madam, a good Wife is a good thing, and rarely to be found, said the wisest of meer Men; and we have reason to believe him the rather, because (asIn his History of Providence. Mr. Turner says) The first Man, Adam, the strong Sampson, the Philosopher So­crates, and many others, have been either over­reach'd, or afflicted with Women: But as many bad Wives as there are in the World, I do assure ye, Madam, my Lady Swancastle is none of 'em; ‘for she's an Honour to her Sex, and a Comfort and Crown to her Husband; and perhaps the most generous Person to her Friends in the World; of which, the noble Cordial she gave me that hour I left Dublin (and many other Favours I receiv'd from her) do abundantly testifie; and tho' her Lord and she are Ancient,’ yet they

Live as they've liv'd; still to each other now;
And use those Names they did when they first knew.
Still the same Smiles within their Cheeks be read,
—As were at first.
And may the day ne'er come to see a change;
Let neither Time nor Age e'er make 'em strange:
A [...]d as you first met, may you ever be,
George a young Man, and Chrit. a Girl to Thee.
[Page 423] What George, tho' you shou'd seem like N [...]stor, old?
And Chrit▪ more years had, then Cumana told;
Times Snow you must not see, tho' it appears:
'Tis good to [...]now your [...]ge, not count your years.

Madam, leaving this good Lady under much Grief, (for her Lord is going to Sea with me) my next Visit was to Mr. Hamer, who (as well as my Lord Swancastle) has met with a Suitable Wife, and both being of a sweet Temper, they live as lo­ving as t [...]o. Turtles; they lately gave me a splendid Treat, and with them I eat my'Twas then my Lord Swan­castle gave me a noble Apple▪ if I cou'd have kept it; of which I have a pleasant Story to tell in my Summer Ramble. Christmas Dinner; and there­fore 'twas when I gave myTo Mr. Bourn, Mr. Gee, Mr. D [...]bbs, Mr. Servant, Mr. Dell, Mr. Penny, Mr. Tra­cy, (alias Pat▪) Mr. Wilde, Mr. Larkin, Mr. [...]rice, and Mr. Robinson. Farewell Supper, I thought it proper to invite Mr. Hamer and his Wife, as a slender acknow [...]edgment of the Favours I re­ceiv'd from 'em.

From Mr. Hamer's Hous [...] I ask'd into Church-street, to take my leave ofThe only Apo­thecary I made use of in Dublin. Mr. Constantine, but [...]ad not the happiness to see him; (perhaps he was not return'd from England) however, Madam, I shall here give ye hisIn return for the Visits he made me, du­ring my Illness. Chara­cter; and seeing I did not see him, I desire it may pass as my Farewell to him; and the least I can say of Mr. Constantine is, ‘that He's a very conscientious Man; I speak this from my own Experience; for when I sent for the Bill of the Physick I had of him, I found it the most reasonable I ever met with (exceptWho in his Bill of 501. (for Physick given to my first Wife) us'd me so very honestly, that I cou'd not desire him to 'bate a farthing. Mr. Crows, an [Page 424] Apothecary in Leaden-hall-street;) and just such [...] fair Dealer is [...] r. Constantine; and which adds further to his Reputation, he's a Man that through­ly understands his Trade; he is as intimate with Willis and Harvey (at least with their Works) as ever I was with Richard Wilde; and is as well acquainted with the London Dispensatory, as I am with my own Name. He is so conversant with the great Variety of Nature, that not a Drug or Simple 'scapes his Knowledge; their Power and Vertues are known so well to M [...]. Constantine, that he need not practice new Experiments upon his Patients, except it be in desperate Cases, when Death must be expell d by Death. This also is Praise-worthy in him, that to the Poor he always prescribes cheap, but wholesom Medicines, not curing them of a Consumption in their Bodies, and sending it i [...]to their Purses; nor yet directing them to the East-Indies to look for Drugs, when they may have far better out of their Gardens. And which is admi [...]able in him, when he Visits a Patient, his Presence is a sort of Cord [...] al, for he's one of a cheerful Temper; and sure I am, that Man is actually dying, that e'n't reviv'd to hear hun talk; he never speaks but 'tis to the purpose; and no Man ever cloath'd his Words in sweeter Epithites. The Estate he has got by his great Practice, has already prefer [...]'d him to be Sheriff of Dublin; and I don't doubt but a few years will prefer him to the Honour of Lord May [...]r; and why not, since one of the same Profession now fills the Chair?’

Madam, I might inlarge in this [...]entleman's Character, but this is my last Visiting day, and the Farewells I've yet to make, won't allow it; but they that wou'd know Mr. Constantine further, may see a living Picture of him ev'ry day in the Person of Mr. chambers; who, as he is his Brother by Trade, so equals him (if any Man ever did) in all the Ver­tues of an accomplish'd Apothecary. But the Sun had now strid the Horizon, so I stay'd but a minute in Crane lane, and next posted to Mr. Suda [...]s in [Page 425] Fishamble-street; I was often invited to come hi­ther, but cou [...] d not do it till this day; when I came to Sudal's, I found his Wife was a Kinswoman of Mr. Doo­littles A No [...]conformist Minister in London., and one that I knew in London. ‘Mr. Sudal is but a little Man in his Person, but I see (by the Treat he gave me) that a great and generous Soul may dwell in a little Tenement. And the least I can say of [...]rs. Sudal is, she's an excellent House­wife, has a great deal of ready Wit; and though taller then her spouse by the H [...]ad and [...]houlders, is other [...]ise a suitable Wife; but I think Mr. Su­dal deserves her, for he's a mighty obliging Husband, and very remarkable for the punctual Performance of his Promise. 'Tis true, his Trade and Customers oblige him more to time then other Dealers; but he is punctual more from a Principle of Conscience then Interest; and indeed [...]udal, if I belye ye here,’ I shou [...]d scarce think you a Christian. For as the Author of the Duty of Man says, p. 227. That sort of Debt which is brought upon a Man by his own voluntary Promise, cannot without great Inju­stice be with-holden; and he that dies in such an Act of Injustice (if this Author be in the right) dyes in a state of Damnation: For continues this Author, When a Promise is made, it is now the [...]ans right; and then 'tis no matter by what means it came to be so. Therefore we see David makes it part of the De­scription of a Just Man. Psal. 15. 4. that he keeps his Promise; yea, tho' they were made to his own disadvantage. And surely he is utterly unfit to as­cend to that Holy Hill there spoken of, either as that signifies the Church here, or Heaven hereafter, that does not punctually observe this part of Justi [...]e. Thus far the Duty of Man. And I find Mr. [...]udal' [...] Life is conformable to the Notions of that great Man. And Mad [...]m, this part of Justice (I mean that of keeping of Promises) being likewise agreeable to my own Sentiments, I cou'd not but have an Esteem for him; I stayd with him five hours, much of which time was spent in talking [Page 426] of Madam D—and the haughty Rachel (that Rachel I mention'd bef [...]re) but at five I bid 'em adieu; and next went to High street, to take my leave of an old Vs [...]rer. I wish I cou'd say any good of him, but I profess I can't; so I think it proper to conceal his Name. When I came to his House, I told Scrape all, I came to bid him fare­well; but thisAs Cowley calls the Miser. Rich-poor-Man had not the Soul to ask me to eat or drink; so that I must say (at parting) Mr. L is a Beggar of a fair Estate. I may say of his Wealth, as of other Mens Prodigality, ‘that it has brought him to this; another that knows the right use of 200 [...]. shall live (creditably, and) to b [...]ter purpose then he with his 10000 l. every [...]ccession of a fresh 100 l. bates him so much of his allowance, and brings him a degree nearer starving. Nay, Madam, I am told (by Mr. Larkin that has known him long) that he's so very Covetous, that he had been starv'd long since, had it not been for the free use of other Mens Tables. 'Tis said Covetousness is the only Sin that grows young as Men gr [...]w old; and I found it verify'd in this Wretch; who, tho [...] worth 10000 l. the Cloaths he had on when I came to see him▪ were never young in the Memo­ry of any; and he has been known by 'em longer then his Face. Madam▪ for my part I am hearti­ly concern'd for the poor Heir which will have the Estate; for the old Miser never gave Alms in his whole Life, or did a generous Action; and every one thinks [...]twill never prosper, but be rather as great a Curse to the Heir, as 'tis to the present Possessor. Yet, to give the Devil his due, he is a [...] charitable to his Neighbour, as he is to himself; and rather then go to a Doctor (Mr. Larkin says he's sure) he'd dye to save Charges. He has but one Kinsman, who was forc'd to wander to Lon­don to get Bread. He might ha' marry'd a great Fortune, wou'd this Miser have drawn his Purse-strings; but he'd do nothing for him while he liv'd, tho' 500 l. given or [...]ent him in his Life­time, [Page 427] wou'd ha' done his Cousin more service then Ten Thousand after his Death.’ But I shou'd starve shou'd I stay here, so I leave Sir Miser, to take my leave of a more generous Friend; I mean the Inge­nious Dr. Whaley (a great Benefactor to my three Auctions.) When I came to the Doctor's House, I found he was gone out, perhaps in search after Pa­trick Campbel, for put [...]ing of his Title to Cumpsty's Almanack; but if Camphel wou'd ask pardon, I be­lieve the Doctor wou'd soon forgive him, for Do­ctor Whaley is a Man of a noble Spirit, and justly merits the Esteem he has with ingenious Men. His Almanack bears the Bell from all the rest in Ireland. I was very desirous to have seen the Doctor at lea­ving Dublin (to thank him for all his Favours) but missing of him, I next rambled to Mr. Carter's in Fishamble-street; I had but just time to bid Car­ter adieu, but will say at parting, ‘He's a genteel honest Printer, is like to marry a Beauty, I hearti­ly wish him Courage, for faint Heart never won fair Lady; and he can't but conquer, for he's a witty Man, and charms a thousand ways; Having shook hands with Mr. Carter, I went next to visit my Friend Sparlin in Damas-street, He's a ve­ry ingenious Man, and blest with an excellent Wife [...] He was gone to the Custom-house, so I mist taking my leave of him, for which I was heartily sorty, for he was my Fellow Traveller to Malhide, and I wanted to thank him for old Favours, but 'twas not my luck to meet him at home; so I rambled next to the Keys in High-street, where I met (by appointment) with Iacob Milner, and his Man Shepherd. As to Iacob, he's a well- [...]t handsome Man, and I shall treat him civilly in my Summer Ramble, provided he grows humble, is very respect­ful to Mr. Wilde, and tells Camphel of his great Sin in Printing Hodder's Arithmetick with Cocker's Title, and so exit Iacob to make way for his Man Shepherd, of whom I shall only say, Trim Tram; for he bought Books at my Auction, and I found him an honest Fellow, and there's an end on't. Having taken my leave of Mr. Shepherd, and his good Master, I went [Page 428] to spend half an hour with Mr. Corbury and his good Wife, who are very obliging Persons, and I shall ever love 'em (and one day requite 'em) for their great tenderness to one of my best Friends. But the day spends, and I have other Farewells to make, so my next Business was to take my leave of my three Landlords, Mr. Orson, Mr. Landers, and Mr. Cawley. As I went along, I hapned to meet with Mrs. Max­field (a very sensible good Woman) she was going (perhaps) to the Four-Courts to hear a Tryal she had there depending; she hurry'd so fast after her Lawyer, that I had but just time to bid her adieu, and to send a tender Farewell to her vertuous Daughter.

Having left Mother Maxfield, I stop'd no where, 'till I came to my three Landlords; I have already sent their Characters, and shall only add, that after a little wringing of hands, and some Tears at parting, I took my final leave of each; and in my way home I (unexpectedly) met with the ingenious Climene, my Fellow-Traveller to Ballimany; we walk'd toge­ther to Mr. Larkins, and there parted. As we went along, we had a [...] of a remarkable black Man, she told me 'twas Dr. Proby; she gave him a migh­ty Character for his great success in curing the Stone; for his Skill in Surgery, and readiness to serve the Poor. But I had not the happiness to be known to him, so I prevented her speaking to him, being here met by my Servant Robinson (as true a hearted Man as lives) and by his dear Spouse, who has brought me a Pidgion Pye (I had almost said) large enough to victual a single Cabin to the East-Indies. Having taken my leave of this happy couple, I' shou'd next enquire for the Gentleman with a red Face, honest Doctor Robinson (I mean him who makes so noted a Figure in the Dublin Custom-house.) He's a very agreeable Friend, pun­ctual to his great Trust, yet very obliging; had I a minute to spare, we'd shake hands over a glas [...] of Claret; and from him I shou'd step to the Post-house, to take my leave of Mr. Shepherd, He's a very generous good Man, and I shou'd in Justice [Page 429] give him a Farewell Bottle; but I am tyr'd with my days Ramble, and the Sun has got on his Nightcap, and if I don't hasten, will be gone to his bed before I am got to my Chamber. But I engag [...]d Mr. Wild to make an Apology to Dr. Robinson, and Mr. Shep­herd, and to present 'em in my Name, with a Farewell-Token. This Saturday night concluded my Dublin-Farewells, and if the Wind be fair on Mon­day, I shall embark with Owner Pickance, and then farewell to the Kingdom in ge­neral (farewell As is hinted in the Dublin Scuffle. for ever) and when I get to London, I'll fall to Printing this Account of my Conversation, and also my Scuffle with Patrick Camp­bel, for 'tis expected in Dublin, as appears by a Letter directed to Mr. Larkin, which begins thus; viz.


WE, or many of us here, wou'd be glad, The Dub­lin Scuffle was out, which Dick Pue says he will buy one of, and chain to his Table, that the sale may be spoyl'd by every body's reading it for a Penny a piece, and THAT he shall get. I am sorry therefore, he is not like to have a severer lash then I am afraid he will, without it be suhjoyn'd in a Postscript; for Dick and I now are two, and for want of yours, made a Dublin Scuffle of our own t'other Night. Thus far the Letter to Mr. Larkin: And an hour ago, I receiv'd my self, a Letter from Sir Hackney (I call him so as he's Campbel's Tool) wondering the Dub­lin Scuffle is not yet out; but withal, threatning I know not what, if I omit the inserting some of his own Maggots: 'Tis true, Madam, such a Scoundrel as this is scarce worth my notice; yet I wou'd tell ye his Name, but that he's asham'd on't himself, and has turn'd it into a Bog-house; but to shew this hectoring Tool how much I defie him, and all his Abettors, I'll here insert the Character of Robin Bog­house, (for so he calls himself.)

[Page 430] ‘His Face is full of a cer­tain briskness,The Character of Robin Bog-house. tho' mixt with an Air a little malicious and unpleasant; he has a large stock of Ill-Nature, Pride, and Wit, in which lies his chiefest Excellency, tho' a very un­envy'd one. His Face is made of Brass, and his Tongue tip'd with Lyes (for there was not a true word in all his Letter;) yet as leud as that and his Tongue is, they are the two best Accom­plishments he has; I find in his Letter he has not a dram of tenderness for his best Friends (I mean those that pay him for Scribling;) for I guess by his Letter, he's going to expose one of 'em for buy­ing and selling a Whore, a second for having a Ba­stard; a third, for being shamefully Hen-peckt; a fourth, for being a Town-Bull, and a fifth, All these I [...] ll prove in a second part of the Dublin Scuffle, if I hear any more of him. for put­ing a Cheat on the World. But no wonder he abuses the Men, for he's so un­mannerly, as to revile even the fair Sex; he lately call'd a Lady Whore, for no other Reason (as 'tis suppos'd) but because she'd not give him a Nights Lodging: Then where shall a Man find him, for he slanders every body; and Proteus like, appears in all manner of shapes; sometimes he calls himself a Student of Trinity Col­lege near Dublin; at other times a Kt. Errant, and fights every thing; and the next moment owns himself a poor Labourer, and desires his Wife wou'd make him a C—d in meer Charity to his hungry Belly; for he, good Man! is willing to hold the door (even to his own Flesh and Blood) invent Lyes, slander innocent Virgins, swear through an Inch board, and do any thing rather then starve; so that if two Irish Justices and my self ben't mistaken,Alias T. D. Robin Bog-house will dye looking through an Hempen Case­ment; or, if he'll kneel low enough for it, per­haps [Page 431] he may come off (for I'll stand his Friend when I see him penitent) with being only whip'd at the Garts A—. And as to his Wife, tho' she's a vertuoas Woman, yet I'd advise the honest Cits of Dublin, never to go to Refarnum with her, for Robin is so leud (himself) that he thinks no man’ travels with her, but makes him a C [...]d.

Now if Bog-house is not the Person I here describe, yet if he that is, will answer this Character fairly, I mean put his Name to't (as I shall do in my reply to him, for I hate a Coward) I'll answer his Let­ters ev'ry Post; and if Patrick Campbel will petiti­on for it, he shall be my Bookseller, and his oppo­site Neighbour the Printer of this Skirmish.

Thus Madam, having sent ye the History of my Conversation in Ireland, and some hints of my Sum­mer Ramble (from the time I landed, to the Sunday I left it;) and having also as truly related how I came to be ingag'd in a Dublin Scuffle, and why the said SCVFFLE is so much desir'd by Dick Pu [...], and his Cousin Boghouse: Perhaps you'll expect my Remarks on the Impatience of these two, till my Scuffle arrives in Dublin.

Then first as to Dick Pue; I can't find by the Letter sent Mr. Larkin, whether he so impatiently desires my Scuffle, that he may spoil the Sale on't, by chaining [...] to his Table, or THAT (to use the Word in Mr. Larkin's Letter) he may get a Penny by Peoples reading it; but I rather incline to this last Opinion, for Dick hopes by the many Pence he shall get by it, that he might reimburse himself of that Money he paid (for some Body) for Secret Service, and I know to whom, and what Summ, and so shall the World too, except he'll bring Boghouse to light, that the World may know the Man that Begets Actaeon's; and that's all I shall say at present concerning Dick, or his Dear Cou­sin.

And now (Madam) having in this Letter sent ye the Characters of almost every thing I convers'd with in Ireland, I hope you'll pardon me if (in the [Page 432] last place) I allow my self a Character amongst the rest: 'Tis true, Cowley says, The Voyage Life is longest made at Home; however from that small Acquain­tance I have with my self, I may venture to say, As to my BIRTH, I account it no small Honour that I descended from the Tribe of Levi; and, I find an Ingenious Author of this Opinion, who says, I reck'n a it amongst the Felicities of my Life, to have been a Prophets Son, nor wou'd I leave a Pulpit for a Throne: To be Ambassadors of Jesus, is matter of Glory, and if you have Faith to believe a Poet, Their Chil­dern, b Do all breath something more than common Air.’

And Mr. Robbinson is of this Opinion, or wou'd scarce have set on the great c Pot for the Sons of the Prophets. Then I'm honour'd as much (to use the words of the same Author) in having a Minister for my Father, as if he had been a Lord; and this Happiness was continued to me a great while, for myd Reverend Father was Rector of e Aston [...]lin­ton for twenty years; and those Principles he instill'd into me in that Town, do (as my Lord Russel says in the like case) still hang about me, and I hope will (as they did him) give me comfort in my dying Mo­ments. My Father design'd me at first for an Ox­ford Scholar, but afterwards changing his Mind, in my fifteenth year he plac'd me out with an Emi­nent Citizen in London, whose kind Instructions and great care of my Wellfare, I shall ever acknowledge. From this Account of my Birth and Education, I proceed (for I consider I am not writing my Life, but Character) to a description of my Person, which is [Page 433] So, So; However, two of the Fair Sex have been tempted to take it for better for worse; (a black Man is a Pearl in a Fair Womans Eye) and if you'll believe the dying words of the first, and living Testi­mony of my present Wife, never repented their Bar­gain.

Having given ye an odd Account of my Person, I shall next tell ye with what Soul 'tis acted. Truly Madam, this House of mine is fill'd with a Rambling Tenant (I mean a Spirit that wou'd breakSee my Preface to the Spectators of the Dublin Scuffle. the Vessel, had it nothing to work up­on) and being born to travel, I am ever pursuing my Desti­ny; so that you may truly call me, a Citizen of London, and of all the World; (for I've seen Ameri­ca, and design to see Europe, Asia, and Africa) yet where e'er I come, I love to be guest at, not known, and to see the World unseen; and for this very Rea­son am projecting a Correspondence with your La­dyship, which I'll call the Art of living incognito; and another I'll call the Character of my living Ac­quaintance (perhaps 5000 in number) wherein I'll spare neither Saint nor Sinner that I ever talk'd with; no, tho' (like a Rich Criminal) he'd buy off his Name with a Purse of Guineas. 'Tis true, 'tis common to write the Character of those that are dead, but the writing the History of living Men, is a Project never attempted before; but if every Man wou'd attempt something of this Nature (I mean write the History As is hinted in my Preface to the Dublin Scuffle. of his Life, comprehending as well his Vices as Vertues) we shou'd begin to know one ano­ther a little: But whether they will or not, I have here led the way, and will pursue it till I have Characteriz'd all my Acquain­tance. So that you see, Madam, tho' Rambling is part of my Character, yet, that both my Eyes are never at once from home, but that one keeps House, and observes the Actions of Men, while the other [Page 434] romes abroad for Intelligence. But Rambling ha­ving an ill Name, perhaps your Ladyship wou'd willingly know something more about my Religi­on. Madam, 'tis the very same you find in the Account of my Conversation; and let my Ene­mies say what they please, I'll never alter it, for I never matter Abuses (when I can't avoid 'em;) and therefore 'tis in the midst of Reflections my Coun­tenance never changeth, for I know whom I have trusted, and whether Death can lead me; and being not so sure I shall die, as that I shall be restor'd, I out-face Death with the Thoughts of my Resurre­ction: If I am found dead upon the spot, what matters it? For not being able to govern Events, I endeavour to govern my self; (and sure I am, 'tis the greatest of Dominions to Rule ones Self, and Pas­sions;) I am advanc'd already so far in this rare Art, that I hope I may say, just Censures I deserve not; unjust I contemn: (and notwithstanding the sneaking Treatment I had from Campbel) I never judge any Man unheard, nor never will. I'm amaz'd to find the Pretenders to Religion so much guilty of this Sin; but I thank God Censoriousness has ever been my Aversion; for I observe not one Report in fifty isThis is evident by the harsh. Reflections (I lately found in the Lon­don-Spy) on Three Emi­nent Traders, who are as much noted for their just and honourable Deal­ings, as they are for that Great Estate and Trade God has blest 'em with. true, and therefore believe eve­ry man honest till I find him otherwise: Most men are led by either Preju­dice, Interest, or some By­end, and therefore in matters of slander, I be­lieve no Mans Eyes nor Ears, but my own: Nei­ther do I listen to Back­biters, but esteem 'em worse then the Men they'd blacken; or if I find any Man as bad as describ'd, if I see him penitent, I ne­ver divulge his Crime; and that was the Reason I took such pains to bring Campbel to a sense of his Error; which had I effected, the Dublin Scuffle had [Page 435] never appear'd. And as I take a pleasure to cover the faults of my worst Enemies (when I see 'em penitent,) so I take as much delight to blazon their Vertues; and that's the reason so many in Ireland have my good Character. Vertue is so charming a thing, that the Ancients were wont to say, Cou'd Men see it with bodily Eyes, they'd fall down and worship it; I can't tell what fine Notions our Fore­fathers had of Vertue, yet sure I am, Vertue is a sort of Prodigy in our times; so that where e'er I find it, I can't refrain from admiring it, and to write a Character of the Person who I think possesses it; and tho' I design a service to others by so doing, yet if I lose my end, I shall rest content; for I have this peculiar to my self, that I was never much con­cern'd (except for the Deaths of Eliza and D—ne) for the things that I can't help, for I do all I can to prevent a Grievance, and then I acquiesce in the Divine Pleasure. Yet does not my pretence to Re­ligion make me a jot precise (and this I learnt from the Dear Eliza.) I value no Man for his starch'd Looks, or supercilious Gravity; or for being a Church­man▪ Presbyterian, Independant, &c. provided he's sound in the main points wherein all good Men are agreed; and therefore 'tis I have little Charity for censorious Men, be they of what Party they will. But Madam, tho' I'm thus easie in my Conversa­tion, yet if justly provok'd, I can be angry enough, but 'tis over in half a Minute; and I am not sooner in a Flame, then I am reconcil'd; yet I never flat­ter any Man, bu [...] value my self for being a blunt Fellow. 'Tis true, your Ladyship once satyriz'd me with the Name of a Poet (for 'tis the same thing as if you'd call me Beggar; even famousAs Oldham tells us in his Poems. Butler was forc'd to die, and be interr'd on Tick,) and say all my tender Expressions proceed more from the Brain and Fancy, then my Heart. But (Madam) as much as I love Rhiming, yet there's four or five in the World (of which your [Page 436] Ladyship is one, and the Inge­nious Now living at Frome in Somerset­shire. Hamlen another) that I respect without the least mixture of Poetry; and I ap­peal to your selves for the Truth of this part of my Character, for you both know I have but one Heart, and that lies open to fight; and were it not for Discretion, I never think ought whereof I'd avoid a Witness; and there­fore 'tis strange I've one Friend in the World, for Folks don't love to hear of their Faults; and I'se downright, and call a spade a spade: I also own I'm very rash in my Action [...], and scarce ever did any thing (save taking two Women for better for worse) but I repented of one time or other. I have a great deal of Mercury in my natural Temper, for which I must have allowance (or shall appear but an odd Christian) but the best Men are the most Charitable, and no man (if he considers himself) will blame that in me which I can't help; perhaps I shall be blam'd for this open Confession, but having an honest design in every thing I do, I publish that to the World, which others wou'd keep as a secret; and for this Reason I creep to no body, but by daring to tell the Truth, do often lose a Friend for the sake of a Jest; but bating but this Fault, tho' I say't my self, I'm as fit to make a Friend as any Man I know, for my Bosom is my Friends Closet, where he may safely lock up all his Complaints, his Doubts, and Cares, and look how he leaves, so he finds 'em. The Dead, the Absent, the Innocent, and he that trusts me, I never deceive or slander; (to these I owe a nobler Iustice) and am so sensible of another's In­juries, that when my Friend is stricken, I cry out. I was never forward in contracting of Friendships, but where I once love, I never hate, no not for a Crime, any longer then till Pardon is ask'd; and if my Friend falls to decay, I'm even ready to rejoyce (I ask his Pardon) that I have an Opportunity to convince him I lov'd in earnest; and tho' 'twere im­possible he shou'd ever requite me, while I have any [Page 437] thing, my Friend shall have all; nay, I have this pe­culiar to my self, that I love a Friend better for being Poor, Miserable, or Despis'd; True Friend­ship, like the Rose, flourishes best amongst Thorns; and my Hopes are so strong, that they can insult over the greatest Discouragement that lies in the way of serving my Friend: And therefore I'd ra­ther serve myThe several hun­dred Pounds I've paid for others, sufficiently proves this. Friend, then barely pretend to't, for I hate a noise where there's no Performance. I never do that to my Friend, that I can't be content he shou'd do to me; and therefore loving at this warm rate, 'tis but just I slight what loves not so much as my self.

So much for my Birth, Education, Person, Tem­per of Mind, Religion, and Friendship. As to my Dealings with Men, my Word is my Parchment, and my Yea my Oath, which I will not violate for Fear or Gain; and this is one Reason why I never eat my Promise, or say▪ this I saw not, but this I said, In 600 Books I ha'e Printed, I never swerv'd from the Price agreed on, or made any Printer call twice for his Money; (which Practice I learnt from my honoured Master) nor did I ever print any Man's Copy, or purchase his Author by out-bidding; and my way of Traffick is all above board, for I betray the Faults of what I sell. I have twenty times in Dublin restor'd the over-seen Gain of a mistaken Reckoning; and (being haunted with a scrupulous Mind) have often paid a Sum over twice, for fear of doing wrong; and this even Dick Pue will own, if he has any justice left. But what Justice can I expect, when the Malice of some Men is so deep, and their Capacities so shallow, as to believe a Cri­minal in his own Case, to the Prejudice of an Inno­cent Man? But they that will judge me by the malicious Tongues of my prejudic'd Enemies, are [...]itter for a place in Bedlam, then to live amongst honest People, for honest Men there are in the World; and therefore I appeal to Mr. Wild in Dub­lin, [Page 438] to Mr. Wilkins in New-England, to Mr. Darker in London, and all that have traded with me, for the Truth of this scrupulous Iustice. But as scrupu­lous as I am in Trade, I was never wanting to my Belly, nor a Wretch to my Back; and am the same Enemy to Prodigality, as I am to a sneaking Tem­per; and I think I am right (in this part of my Character;) for Solomon says, Eccles. 2.24. There is nothing better for a Man, then that he shou'd eat and drink, and that he shou'd make his Soul enjoy good in his Labour. But tho' I pity the Man, Eccles. 6. 2. To whom God hath given Riches, and not the Power to eat thereof, but a Stranger eateth it; yet of the two extreams, I think it much better to live beneath, then above my Estate; for I had rather want then borrow, and beg then not pay. And tho' I ha'e Printed Of which see [...] further Account in my Farewell Let­ter to the City of Dublin. 600 Books, I never Printed a New Title to an old Book, nor never undervalued a Copy, because I did not Print it my self; and I ever thought it as base Injustice to run upon another's Project; neither did I ever murther any Man's Name, with saying, he Print­ed this or that, the more cunningly to praise my self; and I as little like underselling others, to get Chapmen. To summ up my Character in few words: I love Rambling, don't love Fighting; love Valeria, don't love Money; love my Friend, don't fear nor hate my Enemy: Love Fair-draling; Had rather be call'd Fool then Knave. Let People laugh, while I win. Can be secret if trusted. Am ow'd more then I owe; and can pay more then that; make my Word as good as my Bond. Won't do a foul thing, and bid the World go [...]. Now whatever your Ladyship thinks (or my Enemies may say against me) all that know me will own this is the True Character of Iohn Dunton; or at least, 'tis the Character of what I shou'd As was hinted concerning some other Characters in this Book. be. I write not this out of vain Glory, but [Page 439] as a necessary Vindication of my Life and Acti­ons, against the Abuses of Patrick Campbel. But perhaps your Ladyship will say, I live by ill Neigh­bours, that I praise my self: To this I Answer, I see little in this Character that adds much to my Praise; or if I did, I shou'd spoil it, with telling your Ladyship that my Faults are so many to my few Vertues (if I have any) that I'm ready to own my self the worst of Men; and do often cry out with the Publican, Luke 18.13. God be merciful to me a Sinner. However (Madam) If I have been too kind to my self in this present Character, if your Ladyship (in your Remarks on it) will honour me so far as to take your Pencil, and draw me just as I am, (for this Conversation sets me in a true light,) [...] I'll Print the Character you give me, tho' 'twere a Satyr upon my whole Life; for I know you'r just, and will write nothing but what you think; and I so little value the Praises of others, that I'll Print it just as you send it; and if the exposing my Faults will make others avoid 'em, I shall reckon the Publishing of 'em amongst the chief Blessings of my Life: And if, when your Hand's in at Characters, you'll send me your own, 'twou'd direct my Pen in my writing tee ye, and be the best Rule (next the Bible) that I cou'd live by. But Madam, if I find (by your Character) you're as fallible as other Ladies, I'll be as severe upon it (in our future Cor­respondence) as I desire you'd now be upon mine; which (if I know any thing of my self) is so far from being Romantick, that I appeal to my own Con­science for the Truth of my whole Character; and here Conscience will stand my Friend: Nay, in some Sence, a Man's Conscience is the only Friend or Enemy he has in the World, for a Man can't fly from himself (as I hinted in the Dublin Scuffle) and therefore must be as great a Fool as Knave, if he turns Argus (alias Traytor) to his own Person; but I am so little guilty of this Madness, that I think Argus a base Animal to suppress Letters, meerly to carry on a Correspondence of his own [Page 440] with the same Person; for, notwithstanding Bog­land b [...]asts of no venemous thing, such a Serpent there is in Ireland, or else I am wrong inform'd: But he's a [...]ly inv [...]sible Tool, and I almost despair of catching him; but that I may do all I can to dis­cover him, I'll fall to write, A search after Argus. I hear of him in London by the Bristol Packet, again in Dublin (by Dorinda's Billet;) and perhaps shall see him in Scotland; but shall scarce catch him (except at Rome,) in a Jesuits Habit. But if I miss him at Rome, I'll take Shipping for St. Helena, (for he resembles a Cousin of mine that was born there) but like was never the same; so I'll leave this Island, and rather then search in vain, I'll ramble next to Helicon, to enquire of Madam Laureat (the Western Nightingale) who justly wears the Bays, and has no equal on Earth, but your Lady­ship; and I am apt to think I shall meet him here, for when Herma lays her hands to the Spinnet, or charms with her heavenly Tongue, the very An­gels sit and listen to her Song; and what can't a Lady discover, that can becken to Angels to give her Intelligence. But suppose Herma can give no Account of Argus, yet this Ramble may bless the rest, for she's my Friend more then in words; and if I meet her, will wish me a great Deal of Diversion in my Travels; and (being a generous Lady) will con­tribute towards 'em.

I'll next enquire of Mr. Read (the Barber I before describ'd) for he'll dine with me to Morrow in Iewin-street, and then I shall hear of Argus, for Mat. has been viewing Holland, and some say, had a glimpse of Argus in Amsterdam; and not unlikely, for his Manners shew him a Dutch-man. If I gain no Intelligence here, I'll send to Lucas in Crane-lane, for he's a Man very inquisitive; and being a grate­ful Person, if he hear of Argus, will let me know it by the first Post. But my search is still after Argus, and rather then not find him, I'll next ramble to S [...]mon, for he's a generous good Man, and if he knows such a WRETCH as Argus, I'm [Page 441] sure will bring him out; or at least, direct me to an old Gentlewoman (a Grave, Pious, Ingenious La­dy) who knows Argus by Numb. 3. and is the only Person that can discover him: But if I enquire for Argus here, perhaps this old Lady will think him a DRY SUBJECT, and never CONSENT to the Favour I ask; (no, though I WHINE like a Dog in a As was hinted in Mr. Wilde's Ch [...] ­Character, p. 405. Halter;) but this Matron need not fret her self, for 'tis beneath my As was obser­ved by one that had Reason to know. Spirit to court (a young, much less) an old Woman in vain: Besides, Ro­sinante will soon be sadled, and poor Sancho knows the way to the Bath, and if I desire it, will go with m [...] round the World; I mean still, in search after Argus, whom I'll find if possi­ble; but as Scoggin said (when he until'd the ridge of a House to seek for a Gold Watch) I must as well look where he is not, as where he is; and therefore in my further search after Argus, I'll next step to my Friend Ignotus, and from him to the learned Fido, for they are two generous Levites, and wou'd never conceal my Enemy. If I miss him here (as I judge I shall) I'll next ramble to a cer­tain French-man, and ask if he knows Argus, for Argus says he is intimate with him; But what I get of Monsieur, must be by way of Petition, for Argus says he's a desperate Blade, and I have no fancy to a broken P [...]te. If Monsieur will give no Account of Argus, I'll next step to the [...]ost-house; for some say this invisible Fox gets his Bread by sorting (and intercepting) of Letters: But if I can have no Account of him here, I'll ride Post to all the Gibbets in Christendom, as the fittest Place for a Man that betrays his Trust; and if I miss of him here, I'll conclude the Story of ARGUS was but a Poetical Fiction, or that the Devil is run away with him.

Madam, I have now finish'd the Account of my Conversation in Ireland, (to which I've added my [Page 442] search after Argus, the only Serpent thought to be in it,) which perhaps your Ladyship will think as true as the Story of Bevis, or the Travels of Tom. Coriat; for how can this hang together, that this Letter shou'd be writ at Patts Coffee-house (as I at first hinted) when part of it seems to be writ to your Ladyship in Dublin after my arrival at Lon­don; and part of it from Dublin, whilst you were in England; and perhaps Madam, the World will be as much puzled to find out how I cou'd at the same time mention the last things I did in Ireland, as well as the first, and all this in one Letter. How can this come right? except you're a Man of Art, and can reconcile plain Contradictions.

This Madam, is easily reconcil'd, if your Lady-shiy pleases to remember, that tho' it is Printed as one continued Letter, yet it was sent to you in seve­ral; (as were also your Ladyships Answers;) and tho' this be enough to attone for the seeming Con­tradictions, yet I may further add, 'tis 'nt to be thought, that a Man that e'nt quite distracted, wou'd quote so many Eminent Persons (and some of the first Rank) to countenan [...]e that which they cou'd contradict; and as this alone is enough to prove the Truth of part of my Conversation: So the Ad­ditions I made to it since I came to London (upon a further Recollection) reconcile all the seeming Contradictions in it: For might I not write a great part of it at Patts Coffee-house in Dublin, and send it to your Ladyship at your return to London (with a desire you'd enquire after the state of my House in Iewin-street;) and is it not equally as probable, that when ever your Ladyship went back to Dublin, I shou'd tell ye, upon my Arrival in London, of the last things I did in Ireland, with the Names of the Persons that hazarded their Lives to see me a Shipboard.

Thus Madam, tho' unacquainted with the subtle distinctions of Art, yet by the Clue of Truth, I have led your Ladyship out of those Labyrinths in which my Irish Conversation (Printed in one tedious Let­ter) might seem to involve ye.

[Page 443] But (Madam) I fear I have tyr'd you quite, and yet cou'd scarce avoid being thus tedious; for since I was As I said in the beginning of this Letter. resolv'd to have my Cause try'd at your Barr, 'twas ne­cessary to give you a full Account of my Conversa­tion; that so, by putting things in the clearest Light, you might be the better able to Judge me aright. And having done this, I shall conclude with this Request to your Ladyship, That you'd now Read, Try, Iudge, and speak as you find: And whatever your Sentence be, you will there­by oblige,

Your Ladyship's Most Humble, and most Obedient Servant, IOHN DVNTON.


BY AN Honourable Lady.

LONDON: Printed, and are to be Sold by A. Baldwin, near the Oxford Arms in Warwick lane, and by the Book­sellers in Dublin. 1699.

REMARKS ON MY Conversation IN Ireland, &c.


I Should think my self very happy, tho' much be­yond my Expectation, could I deserve the great esteem you set upon my Correspondence: I con­fess, as Charity and Compassion first begun it, find­ing you overwhelm'd with Sorrow for the loss of your Friend; so your taking it in so good part, obliges me to continue any Service I am capable of doing you.

[Page 504] I am so great a Stranger to you, and all your Concerns, I can't so much as judge whether there is any real Cause for your taking such Pains for the Vindicating of your Reputation: However, I will take this Occasion you offer me, to tell you my Thoughts of your Opinions aad Practice.

Your general Desinition of Religion, to my Appre­hension, is as exact as can be comprehended in so few words; and your universal Charity a very com­mendable Vertue; but your care of keeping a Con­science void of Offence towards God, and towards Man, is not so exactly perform'd: Your going to hear the Nouconformists Preach, must certainly give Offence to the Church of England, and perhaps to God as well. Our Saviour Christ says, Woe to the World, because of Offences; and sure, an unnecessary Separation from a Church that teaches nothing contrary to the true Faith, is the highest Offence that can be given or taken. I shall not undertake to justifie their Carriage to the Dissenters, I fear too much the ill Effects of it; but whatever personal Miscarriages has appeared, it cannot be charged up­on the Doctrine of the Church of England, it puts no check to our living as pure and conscionably as any Quaker can pretend to do; and must allow 'em a tender regard to their Consciences, if they call that the Light within 'em; but let 'em remember our Saviour's Caveat to have a care that the Light within 'em be not Darkness; it has one Character of the Prince of Darkness, which is Pride, the exalting ones self, and despising others. I think the Phari­see came little short of all the good Works the Quakers pretend to; yet the humble Sinner was rather Iustified. All separation casts a blot upon the Church from which we depart, which we ought not to do, be the Pretence never so plausi­ble. I know nothing could justifie our separation from the Church of Rome, but her Defsection to Ido­latry, and making her Errors the Conditions of her Communion. All the Faults and Miscarriages of [Page 505] the Church-men, should be the Subject of our Hu­miliation, for they are the tokens of God's Dis­pleasure; and we add to our Punishment, in making them a means of an uncharitable Division amongst Christian Brethren; and those that do so, deser­vedly cut themselves off from the common Cha­rity, being Instruments of the greatest Mischief: I mean the Teachers, not the Persons misled; those have a title to our Pity and Commiseration. I am sorry their Reputation for Preaching prevails with so many to go to hear 'em; they do not consider what St. Paul said to those that were some for Paul, some for Cephas, and some for Apollos; nay, some were for Christ, yet in that strise they were all Car­nal; besides, it gives the greatest Advantage to the Enemies of the reformed Churches to put them­selves into the shapes of such Teachers to delude us, and keep up those Factions and Animosities, by which they take occasion to scorn and despise our Church and Reformation, and strengthen Mens Pre­judices against it.

I am as much perswaded as you, that Religion does not consist in Names or Things; and that Christ's Church is not limited to any Nation or Party. Our Saviour tells us, we shall all be taught of God, whose infinite and miraculous Power extends to all Na­tions in the World, often inlightning them in the midst of Darkness; but where he has set Lights in his Church, and appointed visible means of Salvati­on, there to despise 'em, and chuse to stray into By-Paths, makes us unworthy of the Blessing we enjoy, and liable to the Judgment of falling into Snares and Temptations.

I think your Arguments against the Atheist, are as convincing as could be found out; and your abstracted Notion of the Divine Being is very good, and suits exactly with what I have read in a Trea­tise written by Albertus Magnus. Your behaviour at publick Assemblies, and your Care and Reve­rence for the Sacrament, are very commendable [Page 506] Marks of Piety and Devotion; and indeed, with that Qualification carried with us, no Message from God but will be welcome, tho' from the Mouth of very weak or unworthy Messengers. I am much pleased with your Thoughts of the Communion of Saints, and could wish the World had a freer En­joyment of it.

I highly approve your Care for the Sabbath, but am surpriz'd you should refer your self to me in so great a point. I will tell ye my Thoughts, and not lead you out of the way, if I can help it: All the Authors I have ever read agree, that the Observati­on of the Sabbath is partly Moral, and partly Ceremo­nial, that we should worship and adore that great God that gave us Being, at a certain time alotted for it, the light of Nature tells us; and therefore, that a seventh part of our time should be set apart for a solemn and publick Worship of God, is purely Moral; the Cerimonial part is the choice of the day. We find God chose the last day of the Week for a Memorial of the Creation finish'd in six days; but not so strictly confined to the remembrance of the Creation, but also of the Israelites deliverance out of Egypt, a Type of our Salvation by Christ, as may be seen in the 5th of Deuteronomy; with good reason therefore is it now kept in memory of the last and greatest benefit, the accomplishment of our Redemption, and on that account changed to the first day of the Week, upon which day our Redem­ption was finish'd by our Saviour's rising from the Dead; this change was made in the Apostle's time, as appears by their so often meeting on the first day of the Week, recorded in the Scripture, and that they had our Saviour's Countenance and Authority for it, by his appearing so often to 'em in their Assembly on that day. I think one need not be so scrupulous about the day, but submit to the decision of the Church, who probably fetch'd it from the Practice of the Apostles. Our Saviour tells us the Sabbath was made for Man, and not Man for the Sabbath; and 'tis of more moment to observe the Duties of [Page 507] the day, then to be able to answer all Objections and Contentions, that ill designing Persons can raise against it. That we dedicate a seventh day to God's Service, according to his own appointment, and upon the first day of the Week, in memory of the great Work of our Redemption finish'd upon that day, is satisfactory enough to me; and if I sincerely per­form the Duties of the day, I make no question of Gods Acceptance. For the resting from bodily La­bour so strictly injoyn'd to the Iews, I take to be partly abolish'd with the other Ceremonies, only retaining so much as is necessary to support the So­lemnity of the Day. I think none can be too strict in consecrating to God that day as totally as our Frail Natures will permit; and tho we can't be all the day (besides the publick Service) taken up in Prayers and Meditation, we may do well to keep our selves out of the way of the World, which will soon quench the Flame our Divine Exercises have kindled; but there were nothing like the Conversation of Hea­venly minded Persons, when we can have such; and there are Works of Mercy and Compassion very proper for that day, which may raise our Minds to Love and Praises to God, for making us Instru­ments in his hand for the good of any body. In a word, the best Instructor in the Duties of the Lord's Day, is Love; which will make us do all with di­ligence and delight, by which I may suppose you are animated to what you do, or desire to do, on that blessed day.

I agree with you, that the Duty of Prayer is ma­nifest even by the Light of Nature. That Supream Being, that made us, can only preserve us, and to him we must apply for our well-being; but Chri­stians, that are dedicated to God in Baptism, should take care to sanctify all the Actions of their Lives by Prayer, and never do that thing they dare not beg God's blessing upon: If we did impute to God the happy success of all our Labours, we could not be so wanting to our selves, as to neglect that great Favour and Priviledge of a Christian, of represent­ing [Page 508] all our Wants and Necessities to God, and enga­ging his Care and Providence in our behalf, of beg­ing his holy Spirit, which he has promised to those that as it; which will lead us into all Truth; teach­ing us to [...]cuse and condemn our selves for sin and then engage us to the Duty of thankfulness; and here I know no [...] where to begin or make an end, Innu­merable are the Mercies we daily receive, and suffici­ent to imploy all the moments of our Life in the Contemplation of them, and were our Hearts truly thankful, nothing could be wanting to keep us close to our Duties, both to God and our Neighbour; whatever different ways and modes we find of ex­pressing it. I dare be bold to pronounce That Per­son a true Child of God, that in a deep sence o his own unworthiness looks upon all the mercies he enjoys, as the favour and bounty of heaven, for which he can never be sufficiently thankful. And I do not know a stronger Foundation to build any Persons Conversion upon, for if they are born of Christian Parents, when they consider that Blessing and Priviledge which Thou­sands want, it must needs engage 'em in his Service who has dealt so Lovingly with 'em; But if an Alien from the Church of God, should by some great Providence meet with the opportunity of be­ing instructed in the saith, how can he chuse but look upon this good Providence as the effect of Gods Merciful kindness to him, and work a more kindly Obedience, then all the Terrours of Hell. I con­fess, the threats of Hell, is a way I am little acquain­ted with, yet must own, We cannot know Gods Mer­cy in its full extent, without knowing to the full the miseries from which it has redeem'd us. But this works naturally upon our Love, and turns it into such a fear as works again by Love, and makes our obedience chearful and free, yet I shall not pretend to censure those that perhaps experience teaches to use harsher methods; but I bless God for his more tender dealing with me, for I am perswaded those Conflicts and Temptations so many find upon their Death-Beds, are the effects of those horrours their teachers infuse into 'em; for I may say with thank­fulness, [Page 509] I never saw any one in that condition, of all my Friends that I have Buried. And I make no doubt, but the subtilty of the Devil is never wanting to make his advantage of our Fears, Scruples and Su­perstitions, when he terrifies us with Apparitions and Spectrums; It is certainly a great Happiness to be free from the fears of 'em, for which you have just cause to bless God, and I can speak it by Experi­ence, Those Ominous Presages of Persons, Deaths, or Misfortunes, never happen'd to me, nor many of my Relations; Who all held a Principle against Super­stition, or any observation of such things.

Your humble and uncommon Confession of your own Frailties, is what we must all own as well as you, if we chuse good Principles for our Conduct; 'tis all the Vertue we can pretend to, the exact Per­formance depends upon many things not in our Power.

Your neglect and disregard of dressing, and fine Cloaths, suits the Temper and Inclination of the Wise, and Men of Business; 'tis a weakness even in Women, but a great Folly in Men; and a true con­jecture may be often made of the Intellects of both Sexes by their Dress.

You have a strange Happiness for a Man of Busi­ness, to have so much liesure for Divine Contempla­tion in the Fields, and other pleasant Places, where­by you furnish your Mind with Pious Ejaculations, which serves you upon occasion to obtain Gods Di­rection, Blessing and Conduct in your Affairs; 'tis then the Business goes pleasantly on, when the success is perfectly resignd to God.

'Tis pitty your great Love to your Wife should make you so uneasie, that all your Philosophy could hardly furnish you with Patience enough to sup­port a Months Absence. Your excessive loving Tem­per, which I perceive you do not take for a weak­ness, but a Perfection, gives you much reason to ap­plaud [Page 510] your great Success in your choice of two Wives successively of so much Merit.

Tho' you seem so surprised at the [...] Company you din'd with, I assure my self those M [...]n [...] the Mo­del of their Conversation from London, with a little addition of their own Native Vanity, unless they are much alter'd from what I knew 'em I take 'em generally to be all acted by a Romantick Honour, and every Man of what Rank or Quality soever, takes upon him as much as he can, the Meen and Equipage, Living and Eating of the Nobility, especi­ally of those that come from England: Even Swearing and Prophaneness they mistake for great Vertues, when observ'd in Men of that Rank, with­out considering that the Vice of Swearing springs from a base and vulgar Education; who, wanting Language to express the vehemence of their Passions, have contracted an ill habit of supplying the want of Truth and Eloquence with Oaths. If Persons of Quality ever give so barbarous an Example, 'tis when they are lea [...]t themselves; either transported with Pride, Passion, or Wine: But whoever they are that do it, they show a very shallow Capacity, and weak Apprehension of the dreadful Majesty of God; and however he may perhaps please himself with his own Conceit of his Wit and Parts, he may be Justly branded with the Name of Fool; which Solomon wisely gives to all that fear not God.

Your often returns from Bnsiness to Retirement, was a Priviledge of being a Stranger, and far from your Family and Relations. I can't be Judge of the Pleasure you found in Montaigns Essays, having ne­ver read it. I heard it once commended by a Man in Reputation for Wit, but not so much for Vertue, which moved my Curiosity the less; and having all I desire in the Port-Royal, I confine my self to a very few Books. I envy not your Trip to your Au­ction: I have had some of that Pleasure of obser­ving Bidders for Books upon my own Account, [Page 511] but wanting your Skill, came far short of your Sa­tisfaction.

Your Recollection of your Actions, how hard so­ever to others, is very [...]asie to you, who remember so exactly all you say and do: If you as strictly ob­serve the Motives from whence they spring, and view your Actions in a true Light, such a Method of Examination constantly used, will bring you to all the Perfection attainable in this Life. The Divine Con­templation you have so ready upon the sight of every proper Object, must needs dispel (as you own) all melancholly Vapours; for the aspiring of the Soul to Heaven, brings Heaven to it; and by that Light shall best discern its own Defects, and Gods Perfections; and in a manner transform it into Ioy and Love.

You give the Characters of several honest Men, and one good Wife, I suppose you take 'em for some of the Rarities of that City; the Places you describe are unknown to me; I never took the pains to see 'em, and if I had, perhaps my own Observation would have come short of your pleasant Description. I am, little fond of pleasing my sight; wherever I live, my House and Garden limits my Curiosity; which is the Reason I am as much a Stranger to Ireland, as those that never were there.

I am much delighted with the Account you give of the Church and State; and am perfect­ly perswaded my Lord Galway justly deserves the high Character you give him in every respect; and sure much of the present Happiness of that King­dom is owing to his wise Conduct, and great Exam­ple of Vertue and Piety; to my knowledge there's nothing like it for those People there, who live by no Rule but Imitation; and the severest Laws would have much less effect on 'em, then his obliging Con­desention. I wonder what's become of all the Iaco­bites? There are some for certain, but not so bare­fac'd [Page 512] perhaps in such a Government, as to be noted of Strangers.

'Tis also matter of great Joy, to hear the Bishops and Clergy perform their parts with so much Chari­ty and Condesention to the Dissenters, as gives 'em occasion to commend their Moderation and Piety: It were much to be wish'd, that all our unhappy Differences might be consumed in Flames of Charity; and Ireland, as much as it has been despised, might have the honour to set us that great Example; then, as that good Prelate, Bishop Hall advis'd, we should have Peace with all but Rome and Hell.

'Tis observable, there are no Places where Care is so effectually taken to suppress Popery, as where they abound most, and are best known; which may be the reason that in Ireland they have in that point out-done us here. It would be a great Pleasure to me, to think as you do, that the Romish Religion were on its last Legs in Ireland; and sure nothing is more likely to produce that effect, then those Methods they have taken; or which would better secure the Rebellion of that Kingdom, beyond all the suppressing Laws; for while there are Papists to improve every failing or miscarriage in the Rulers, and every defect or weakness in the Capacities of the People, to the raising such appearances to de­lude 'em, as may serve to the promoting their own Interest and Religion, nothing can be expected but Rebellion and Mischief; but they who have the ART OF LIVING INCOGNITO, How is it possible to be sure they are rid of 'em, as hard to know as their great Patron, the Devil, when transform'd in­to an Angel of Light? No, I have no hopes from the rigor of any Laws made against 'em; all my hopes is, that as that adulterous Church has liv'd so long, she is now grown old and ugly, the time is coming, that all her Lovers will hate her, tear her Flesh, and burn her City with Fire; all things seem to be preparing for her Execution, notwithstanding [Page 513] the French Kings Persecution; and who knows but the Pope's mournful Iubilee may not be a Prognosti­cation of it.

That old Father Kereen, I believe I have heard of; there was such an one lived at Athlone, who used to say he could lay a Spirit for seven year, and then again for seven more; tho' I am of Opinion they are never wanting to contrive some Impostor, when necessary to shew their Power, and to delude the People, and keep up their Credulity and Super­stition: Yet I believe as well, that they are able to do it, when ever there is any real Occasion for it, they are many of 'em Men of much Thought and Retirement, only designd for the promoting the Kingdom of Satan; he can't deny his Assistance for the carrying on his own Work, and no question teaches 'em the way he will be dealt with; 'tis a great Happiness for the poor People to be rid of such Ghostly Fathers, their Superstition once cur'd, may probably secure 'em from those Miseries.

The Church you went to where there was Musick, gives much opportunity of gazing; the Mind having the least part in that Service of all the rest, it seems to me you should have had more reason to have yielded to the Eastern Custom of separating the Wo­men from the Men, had the Women appeared more beautiful, since that and soft Musick might have discompos'd your Temper for the Sermon. For my part, I think Womens Devotions are as much distra­cted with gazing at one another, observing how they look, and how they dress, that I could wish some Habit were appointed to be worn in Religious As­semblies, that would give us all the same Air, that neither Beauty nor Quality could be distinguish'd: I mean only those that sit in Pews and Galle­ries; for the ordinary sort, there's less danger, they'll not make it their Pride to dress, if Quality don't.

[Page 514] I easily credit you, and believe 'twas more then a Fancy, that you saw nothing handsome in all the Female Faces; I have observed in many Churches of late years, the same thing; and wonder for what reason all Beauty should be fled out of the World, un­less it be for the ill treatment it finds here; and truly Women make a pretty good shift without it, taking upon 'em the part that once belong'd to Men; and obtain by flattery and cajoling, what Beauty us'd to do by Conquest; but I confess Beauty and Charming are two things with me; there is a grace­fulness in Meen and Motion, proceeding from the Mind, and makes the whole Aspect charming, with­out the help of Complection and Feature; Vertue makes the truest Beauty, and the softest Charms for the best and wisest Persons.

I am of Opinion, as you insinuate, that Memory is not the chief Qualification for profitable hearing of Sermons, as 'tis a means God has appointed to in­struct us as from himself, to observe what touches us in particular is all the concern we have in it; when God speaks to the Heart, we can't but re­member and take notice of it.

The Character of your Antagonist has given a very natural Description of Pride and Meanness, two things nearer related then the World imagines, which is often brought to the first, but always takes Authority to despise and reproach the latter; but Experience shews us Pride never prospers and aug­ments so much as in Persons of mean Quality, or small parts, rais'd to great Honour or Riches; and Sordidness often comes into the Society, but serves only to make Pride the more hated, no body gaining by it; thus loaded with so many ill Qualities, he must needs act as he did; 'tis the part of a generous Enemy to conceal his History; and of a good Chri­stian, to let nothing provoke you to expose it, un­less the good of the Publick require it.

[Page 515] 'Tis no surprise to hear so many of the Players in Dublin are no way inferior to those in London; 'twas never the temper of Ireland to let any Country out-doe 'em in Vanity and Idleness, two things that will secure a Player from starving; and where they find their Interest, their Company is never want­ed, as appears in their posting to Kilkenny, as it seems they did. That Gentleman must needs be very soft and effeminate, that must be taught Ver­tue and Religion so charmingly as in the Theatre; but for all their constant attendance there, I fear such Gentlemen are much Strangers to those Vertues they pretend to learn there; and have as little use for 'em as for their time they waste and throw away with so much care and diligence.

I think that Gentleman had a great deal of time to spare, that was so curious in his Garden; 'tis a very innocent delight one takes in the Products of Nature, but excessive Curiosity transforms that Plea­sure into a vexatious Care and Labour; and had his Visiters been all of the Temper of Diogenes, and had disappointed him of Applause and Admiration, 'twould have shew'd him his Mistake in making that an Entertainment for the Mind, which is more proper for the Pleasure and Recreation of the Body, that takes no less delight in Woods and Fields, where Art's a Stranger.

The Characters you give your Brethren (as you call 'em) would make one think there were some­thing in that Calling inclin'd Men to Goodness; you remark so many commendable Qualities in 'em, but nothing is so charming as the [...]dea I have of the Lady you have so admirably Characterized in distick; one could not wish for greater Perfection, or of any other kind then those you have described. I wish the Tutor, with all his Learning, be not tempt­ed to think his Happiness resembles so much the Ioys of Heaven, as may make him too well contented with his earthly Tabernacle; and perhaps the Lady may [Page 516] owe the last Perfection in her Character to his Con­versation; so that the Family may well be agreeable to the degree you speak of, the Master and Mistress being also Persons of so much Merit.

The remarkable Fruitfulness of Mr. Hook is con­siderable, but the two and twenty Brothers listed in Ireland as much; many Children are not only Blessings, but may be observed to be given most commonly to good People that have not repined at 'em, but been thankful for 'em; and where they live to Men and Womens Estate, are very often Persons of Piety and Vertue; the necessity they find of yielding and complying with one another in their Youth, forms in 'em such a habit of self-denial, as fits 'em to receive other good Impressions in their riper Age, if their Parents care is not wanting.

'Twas a very generous Care you took to pay your Father's Legacy; it could not concern your Con­science, not being Executor; but shew'd a very great and kind Respect to your Father's Memo [...]y; but that remorse of Conscience so many feel for the wrongs they do in the case of Money, is in my Opi­nion, a sort o [...] Indication, that Money is generally taken for our chief Good; there are Injuries we commit against others daily, without regret, which often amount to as great Wrongs, for which our Conscience never troubles us.

Sir Peter Pet did the World, as well as his Friend, a Service, in preserving his Memoirs; it seems we should otherwise have lost such Truths, some Per­sons were afraid of.

That dignifyed Woman, call'd the most Ingenious, must needs have Enemies of her own Sex, tho' you think perhaps she don't deserve 'em; 'tis Crime enough to be distinguish'd by any good quality; her greatest Crime that appears to me, is her suffering her Husband to be so much a stranger to his own [Page 517] Modesty, that he should take such a Journey so ill appointed for his Business.

Dublin is very happy in a Banker, such a one as you describe, punctual, just, and honest in his Deal­ings; and it may be, he has something of the na­tural Generosity of his Country added to it, which made him so ready to serve you as a Stranger.

I more admire then envy the celebrated female Poet, she must be so much under the dominion of Fancy; I can't indure any kind of Slavery; and all the fineness of Poetry can never make up for the unruliness of Fancy, when indulged, which Poets must allow; to have ones Thoughts sober and regu­lar, is a happiness of much value to me.

That Aged Woman you discoursed of, was a great Prodigy, if her Vnderstanding and Iudgment had been as strong and lasting as her Senses, her Expe­rience might have given us much Instruction.

I fancy it was a very pleasing surprise, to find a Person that perfectly resembled one you thought so accomplish'd; one of the Persons you wish'd to see; so near a resemblance of, I never saw; but for the other, her Beauty was superlative before the Small Pox; but after that, she had not many Equals; but never expect to find in this Age, her sort of Beauty, which consisted so much in Majesty and Grandeur.

Mr. Dangerfield I uever saw, and can have no Notion of the Gentleman's Perfections from him; but your Character makes him very fine; and I suppose his Ladies Vertues put you in mind of Wives making good Husbands: I have seen great al­teration in Mens Tempers, from the Conversations of their Wives, and for the worse, as often as for the better; but to the making a good Husband, no doubt Meekness and Patience are the best Ingre­dients, with the addition of some cunning and flat­tery, [Page 518] and will go much further in that business, then Piety and Charity, unless, Prayes and Tears are al­low'd to be of any force.

The Gentleman you describe, besides his Bravery and Courage, his being so full of Love and Pity, may be the chief reason of his not Marrying, in Love and Compassion to himself, declining a Condition of so much toil and trouble, and in pity to the Lady, whose share must be more then double to his.

I am very apt to believe the Nonconformists may be in themselves the worthy Men you represent 'em; but wish I could discover what good end they propose to themselves in Preaching? If to con­vince us of the Errors of our Church, will not Writing do that as well, if it is an Error we are ignorant of? But should it be one we know, and for Interest, or other reasons, maintain it, there's small hopes then of our Conviction; yet it must be a very considerable Error that will justifie their publick Preaching, to draw Persons off from our Church; but the difference between us is not so great, if the Presbyterians approve 36 of our Arti­cles, the other three had better be made a Sacrifice to Peace and Vnity, then give our Enemies so much Advantage against us by our Divisions; but per­haps they design by their Excellent Preaching, to draw so many to their Party as may fright the Church of England into a compliance with 'em; if such a thing should happen, one can't com­mend the means they used to accomplish it, so far remote from Peace and Charity; they seem purely humane, and if God should draw from such ways his own Glory, yet who knows how their Presumption may be chastised? At the same time God has better ways of his own, if we could patiently wait and relye on him; when we go about 10 mend things, we with our Pride and Perverseness make 'em worse; of which the last Civil War in England is a great Instance. Had we as much Humility and Charity, as we have [Page 519] the contrary, which every attempt of [...]ccommo­dating has hitherto increased, we would study to find out the means of Peace and Union, and think no yielding on either side, too much for the Purchase of such a Blessing; which if you know a greater, and can prove in your defence of your Pra­ctise, any Motive more considerable for going to Meetings, then I alledge for keeping to the Church of England, whatever Faults can be imputed to her, I must yield; for then I shall be as much afraid of your Arguments, as you were of the Gentle­man that could say what he pleased, and prove what he said.

I can't but admire at your curing your self of an Antipathy! What can be too strong for such a Pow­er? I can't think but you might as well hinder the Operation of Sympathy, and create in your self an Aversion to the Fair Sex, when you find occasion for it.

If Mary Gossam had pull'd off the Night-cap, she might have been sure it was the same Cap it look'd like; but I am apt to think it had as Airy a Sub­stance as the Man that wore it; no doubt the Devil has had that Power in all Ages, and for his own designs frequently does it, when God permits; taking up­on him the Persons of all, both good and bad; and for discovery of Murders, and such things that seem to cross his general design of doing Mischief; but he that can speak Truth with intent to deceive, can do what seems good to serve his own ends: And as you threaten to return from the dead to do Justice to your Reputation, I shall wish you long Life, for fear the Devil should take advantage from what you say, and come and Vindicate your Reputation to me, but I hope I shall dye first.

I should have expected from your Experience, a more moderate reception of your Adversary's Slan­ders; we should not stay till we are inform'd, but take it for granted, there are Persons that belie, and [Page 520] speak ill of us; What is there surprising in that, which is the common treatment the World gives and takes? It had been strange a man of his Chara­cter should shew any Civility, as he thought you his Enemy; when he shew'd so little at first, when he might hope to make you his Friend! That other Man you had reason to thank, for giving you the opportunity to clear your self to my Lord Mayor, which was publick enough for the Worlds notice; and succes, enough afterwards, to meet with an honest Binder in his place.

But 'tis the greatest wonder to me, you should come off so well with that beautiful Country Gentle­woman! If she had had no Beauty, her agreeable Con­versation and Modesty, with a little complaisance for you, had been charm sufficient to engage you; but that you could trust your self to contemplate every particular Beauty, both of Body and Mind, is daring to astonishment, in a Man that values himself upon his Vertue! But you will say, her Vertue abun­dantly secured you; how great soever that was, her Courage seems no less, in exposing her self to the danger of pleasing.

Tho' Beauty is no great matter in its self, yet the Price the World sets upon it, should make it of some value to the Owners. What made Solo­mon find out so contemptible a comparison for a fair Woman without Discretion, but to shew us that whoever is possess'd of such a Treasure, should esteem it at the rate others do; which is agreeable to common sence? What could one think of a Person that should walk the Streets, and go to Markets and Fairs dress'd up in Iewels to a great Value? Should one not tax her Discretion, or think she had some strange design in it, to make a tryal how many Enemies she should meet? which would be almost as many as saw her; some designing her mischief to get her Iewels, others jeering and ex­posing her in all places for her folly; for Beauty much resembles Iewels in this, that tho' they are the [Page 521] chiefest bravery of Nature, they are of the least use; so one may be very happy without Beauty; but when one is possess'd of such a Treasure, it ought to be secur'd by Modesty, and a discreet value of it, and not carelesly expos'd to pleasing, but only up­on just occasion: But a married Woman with such a careless Conduct, making no distinction, is as ridiculous as a waiting Woman would be, who had her Lady's Jewels in her keeping, and should lend 'em to the Milk-women to dress up their Pails for dancing.

My design in all this, is to prove there would be no occasion for a Man's defending so hotly, either his own, or that Lady's Vertue, who had a true esteem of her Beauty, whether in her own, or her Husband's Possession; for I am truly moved with Compassion for this incompa [...]able Person you propose for a Pattern to our whole Sex, to find she lies un­der the misfortune of Slander and En [...]y; and tho' she has the support of those sober Ladies that ho­nours her with their Friendship, 'tis of little force to take off Slander, since there is a Charity much in vogue, that forbids distinguishing any but what are notoriously bad, which in this refined Age are very few that appear so; her Husband had been her best support, had he believ'd her Vertuous upon his own Iudgment, and not upon the Opinion of another; I fear your Judgment was not generally priz'd at that rate.

However, I can't but applaud your happy retreat to the cool Country Air, after so much heat (tho' you carry'd a Disease with ye) since there you found a Cure; there's none knows the Pleasures of Gardens and Retirement, like those that have liv'd in the hurry of the World; for that, like other Pleasures, must be set off by its contrary.

The very same Doctrine Mr. Cowley teaches for Retirement, I establish for Friendship; which never is right, or can be lasting without it; for till we [Page 522] have cast of those restless Thoughts of pleasing the World, and our vain Passions to Persons [...]o disposed, the Rules of Friendship are as severe as School-In­structions to Boys, with their Heads full of Play; who are no less blind to all the Pleasures and Ad­vantages of it: But how must that Mind be eleva­ted, that in Retirement can be every thing to its self? Sure the Admonition, Instruction, and variety of Thoughts a Friend would yield us, should infinitely add to the Perfection of such a Life? And tho' li­ving Incognito from being seen and known to the s [...]eless World, is a Priviledge to be wish'd; yet to be depriv'd of the Society of the Vertuous and Religious, is to cut our selves off from the chief Pleasure that give us a taste of Heaven upon Earth; with the opportunity of a delightful Improvement of every Moment of our time spent in their Con­versation.

Nor can I think that great Emperor, Charles the 5th. could have boasted half that sweetness he found in his change of Life, had he wholly retired from the Conversation of the Divine Valdesso; but you must ever be a Stranger to the true Pleasures of Retirement, as much as you pretend to love it, you carry such a busie Mind about with you, and croud your Thoughts with Fields, Gardens, Parks, your House, and absent Friends. How could you take any thought for a House left in the Conduct of such a Wise? 'Tis only extravagant and disor­derly Wives, that turn the House out of the Win­dows in their Husband's absence.

No question you were as much in Valeria's Thoughts tho' she might not dream in so much danger. You might well expect Death in a Distem­per so often fatal; and the Thoughts you had from that Expectation, I believe has taught you Experi­ence, and shew'd you how much you were deceiv'd in your hope, that to the end of your Life you should think of the World just as you [...] did then when you thought you was leaving it. And did you flatter [Page] your self to think, if time wou'd unweave your Life again to the first Thread, you would mend your Con­duct? You are now convinced of the Vanity of that Presumption, not having had Death, and the con­tinual Preparations for it, so much in your Thoughts, as you then promis'd your self. This is judging others by my self, if it is rash and false, I beg your Pardon.

I confess I always look'd upon Sickness as the greatest of all temporal Evils; and Health the most considerable of earthly Blessing; What can discom­pose the Mind like Pain and Sickness? One may find a Remedy for all other Misfortunes, by resolving all into the Will of God, which [...]rders nothing to befall us but for good; but no Re [...]ign [...]tion [...]ver so great can hinder the Sympathy the So [...]l has with the Body; that in those occasions our Thoughts have little Power to entertain any Thought but Patience per force: If therefore the Tho [...]ghts of Death and Iudgment, Heaven and Hell are necessary to reflect on, 'tis when we are in Health; Sickness discomposes all serious Thoughts; for my self, I wou'd have nothing to do at that time, but to resign my self with all the Patience I could muster up, equally accepting release either by Death or Recovery, which of 'em God pleases to appoint me; and no­thing makes us so ready and willing to die, as a comfortable assurance of our Salvation, which will stand us then in more stead then any reflection on our past Life, tho' never so good, or the most s [...]i­ous Repentance we can then exercise. Nor can I think it a Presumption, because not built on our own Performances, but upon the Promises of God. If it is possible to judge of the truth of any Divine Grace, 'tis possible to know they are his chosen to whom he gives it, How can the Holy spirit witness with our Spirits, that we are the Children of God, if we are Strangers to what [...]e witnesses? All Di­vine Graces are the Earnest of our Eternal Inheri­tance they are the Gifts of God, which he never withdraws, for his Gifts are without Repentance: [Page 524] Nor is Assurance a particular favour to some, but to all his chosen, that are careful to try themselves, and their Graces; and for those that fear Assurance should make 'em Libertines, they would find the contrary if they had it; for it is not the fancy of having, but the real Possession of true Grace creates Assurance, which will be seen and known by its Effects, as a Tree by its Fruits; and no such mo­tive to lead a heavenly Life on Earth, as a firm Assurance in the Exercise of Divine Graces, that we are consigned to a glorious Immortality in Heaven, so remote from the Changes and Uncertainties in this Life; tho' perhaps in some sort, a necessary quality for the imperfect Pleasures this World af­fords us.

A little longer Enjoyment▪ of your Earthly Para­dice in the Country, would have put you upon the search of Business in Town, only upon account of Variety, and the Idea of it now you are snatch'd from it, has more of Pleasure in it, then a longer Enjoyment would have given you.

I perceive we are obliged to your Inquisitiveness and Curiosity; (a Character you give your self;) for leading you to so many different Places, which furnish'd your Table-book with Remarks which we shall see in Perfection in your Summer Rambles; and above all, the fine History of Lord Clonuff, of whom I never heard till now.

You had a very uncommon and particular Happi­nest you had reason to prize, in meeting in your ordinary Conversation, five Persons Eminent for Pie­ty, Wisdom, Learning, and all other Vertues; and I agree with you, that the best Consolation in the want of such Company, is Reading, especially the Bible, what ever Opinion the generality of the World has of it, if read without Pride and Curiosi­ty. An humble Spirit that reads and lays it up in their Minds, finds a time, by Gods special Favour and Blessing, to understand and apply it to 'em­selves, [Page 525] for their Comfort and Direction in proper times and occasions.

Following your Fancy led you to a great deal of Variety, but the Bowling-green above all, has Charms for me; I think it no improper Recreation for Ladies; and where Men, who are desirous to Civilize themselves in Ladies Companies, might partake with them there. The only difficulty is, there are very few Bowling-greens in private Fami­lies, they are so chargable to keep; and all publick Meetings for Diversion, soon grows scandalous in this corrupt Age.

The Pleasures of Kilkenny, so magnificent as you describe, might give one the Idea of a Paradice, were not one Principle, Felicity, wanting, of not being able to contain a great Mind. You say the Owner lives like one that's much above it; so he may say, as a great Favourite in the Court of Aha­suerus, What does all this avail me?

And truly by the Company he had a Bowles with him, I am apt to think there were others also as soon satisfied, and had enough of his Paradice; they are all Pleasures for the Eye, which is never sa­tisfied with seeing, but by change of Objects is in perpetual search of a Felicity, which always come [...] far short of our Expectations. The Novelty once over, there's an end of the Enjoyment.

Sure the Natives of that Place where the four Elements are so pure, must needs have a more refi­ned Nature. I shall observe with more exactnes [...], the Character of those Persons, when I come to 'em; and indeed you find so many things to admire, in a Country where others think every thing deserves to be despis'd; makes me believe the Perfection lies in your self, that knows how to extract out of every Subject, all the Vertues it contains; that temper fits you for a Traveller, whose design is Observa­tion; and truly, the Contemplation of Perfection is [Page 526] pleasanter than of Faults and Defects; that meer self-love is enough to perswade us, while we fix our Thoughts upon the first, to over-look the latter.

And that Lady, whose full Character you reserve for another Place▪ I own would reconcile me to any Country and Circumstance, that would give me the opportunity of Edifying in her Conversation.

That great and generous Brigadeer, who treated all so nobly, shews the largeness of a French-man's Soul, when out of the slavery of his own Country, and under the benign influence of a Lord Gall­way. Your Poem was deservedly dedicated to him, I shall spare my Remarks upon it; I don't pre­tend to judge of Wit, but shall leave it to its Peers.

One can't but look upon those miserable Cabins you describe, as the just desert of Sloth and Idleness; and by their manner of living in 'em, one might believe St. Paul's Injunctions had been observed in the severest sence, that because they did not work, they had been deny'd the Food of their Souls, as well as Bodies. 'Tis a severe reflection upon us, to suffer those that are, or should be Christians, to live just under our Noses, in as ill a manner as the worst of Heathens.

I can't blame you for leaving those sad Objects for Kildare, if you design'd Mirth, for which that other Place was very unfit; the Country must needs be fine, whatever the Town is. St. Bridget did not set her self to cut and sow for what was not worth her P [...]ns. I have observed no Places so pleasant as those that have been chosen heretofore for Ab­bies and Priories. You was in the right to take the Old Father with you, those Men serve much to make up a [...]est. My Lord Kildare had well plac'd his Chair, in respect to the Curraugh; which how­ever pleasant of it self, is much heightned by re­membrance [Page 527] of the pleasant rancou [...]ters at the Horse-Races.

I know not whether the Predictions of Astrologers be true; but I know a Man may make 'em true if he pleases, and too often does so; if you like to b [...] Mercurial, 'twill be hard to fix you; the Girl that upon opening her Eyes was saluted, with so much Novelty, was moderat [...], in respect to your bound­less Curiosity; you take in all Object, by wholesale, which you are forced to dress and refine in your Fancy, before you can expose 'em to the view of others less fond of 'em. I never had, I assure you, so fine an Idea of Italy, as to desire to see it; 'tis a Place too full of artifice and cunning for my simple Genius. I must own, I rather pity then envy your rambling Fate; were I in that Distemper, I knew a way to cure it; but there's no prescribing to you, till you are willing.

The Satisfaction of your Travels not disturbing your sleep, is in my Opinion, no great matter; 'twere something if you could never sleep nor dream of Valeria, or desire to see her without it; and what great Miracle to be content with Pleasures of your own chusing? You might better boast of a contented Spirit, if you could be content to stay at home, and never travel, but upon just occa­sion.

You take the right way of reflecting upon your good or bad Successes; that truth once establish'd. That nothing comes to pass by chance, sets us above all difficulties, but excludes not our Care and Pro­vidence for the accomplishment of [...]ur designs, on­ly moderates us, and makes us indifferent as to the success: Cross Accidents may well be look'd upon as Trials of our Patience, especially in small and common things; but the more considerable Misfor­tunes have higher ends, which we should make it our business to find out. I know Gods ways are unsearchable to us in themselves, but those that con­cern [Page 528] us in particular, are Lessons he sets us to learn, which we must be careful not to over-look; and I think the most general Language all Afflictions and Misfortunes speak, may be interpreted, Calls to Humility; as Pride is the root of all Evils, Humi­lity must be the proper Remedy; but in occasions where no Remedy can be found, we may jus [...]y say,

Shall we receive from Power Divine,
Life's Sweets, and at his Griefs repine?
From both, his Tribute let him raise;
From these, our Patience; and from that, our Praise.

Your trouble for Patrick's Fault more then your own Injury, was very charitable, but upon a wrong Foundation; for his Fault had not been less but greater, had it been the resentment of an Injury; for then it had been Spite, Malice, and Revenge; whereas it might be now a little heady Pride and Insolence, to see how far his Money or Interest would go, and how far he could have his humour; there are many will venture disobliging their Neigh­bours, much less Strangers, for as trifling Conside­rations; therefore if you clear your Innocence, he must appear less Criminal, and by consequence ye do him a Kindness with your self.

'Tis much to be admired, your courteous Gentle­man, so full of Charms, could resist the Glory of Conquest, if he found the Ladies lay'd down their Arms; but his great Humility made him a Stranger to such Thoughts, and procured him the Happiness of living a Batchelor, by which he was worthy of Honour; if, like the Widows St. Paul mentions, he was a Batchelor indeed, and designed it for a good end; but if his Motive was Self-love and Li­berty, he, like the Widows that live in Pleasure, is dead while he lives; every one is a Debtor to the Publick, and of that Married Persons do best dis­charge themselves, as heads of Families, and on that Account great Benefactors to their Country: But those [Page 529] that the Providence of God exempts from the Toils and Troubles of a married State, must consi­der they were not made for themselves; but, as they have opportunity, must sacrifice their Time and Fortunes to do good, and make themselves Sharers in the Labour Man is condemn'd to.

I believe the young Divine is perfectly the Man you represent him, by the Text he chose; Young Men have something extraordinary in 'em, when they are so remote from the Ambition natural to that Age and Function, who seldom content them­selves with less then the deepest Points, and highest Rhetorick, to shew their Learning in; a PLAIN MAN, [...]o little suits their Stile or Humour, they think it would degrade 'em, and spoil their Pre­ferment, to take notice of such, either in, or out of their Sermons.

But of all your Friends, who you thought you could never enjoy enough, I prefer the Man that carried the decrees of Wisdom in his Mouth; he might well be a Blessing to his Wife and Children, if he had any; for such a Man is a Blessing to all that know him; there's no miscarrying in his Company: Where wise Counsel is so ready, I applaud the Happiness of his Scholars, and wish 'em better Employment then acting Plays; which I suppose was but in order to the better and more re [...]l sort of acting they would arrive at in time. I wonder what Remedy his WISDOM prescribed you for your loss? I take it 'twas in his House you cried out Thieves. I am ready to think, the occasion you took to love Drogheda, was by his Advice; 'tis only Wisdom can make one take Pleasure in Tears and Grief; un­less the Comfort you took to find you had such strength to recover with such weak Remedies, as of my prescribing, might out-weigh the rest of your Troubles.

[Page 530] I can't Imagine what you mean by Primitive In­nocence you was so frighted at; unless it was parting with all your Substance (as the Primitive Christians did in Charity) to requite the Kindne [...]s of your Friends? I perceive he that generously confers Fa­vours upon you, loosens the tye you have to your self by love, and rivals you in the glory of Generosity, which is your Mistress; and till you have out-done your Rival, and regain'd the Victory, you appear to your self like a Slave in Fetters; but if, to reco­ver your Liberty, you should leave your self as bare as they in Primitive Innocence, it would no­thing resemble it, proceeding as it does, from ano­ther Cause, and for another end.

There's nothing extraordinary in a Poet, or one of much Fancy; who, to shew his Art, gives the Or­naments of high Perfections to very mean Objects; but in you it might be also the effect of that Gra­titude and Generosity you so abound with, that oc­casion'd so large a Character of your Owl. I don't question, but if it should want Gravity to recom­mend it to my Reflections, it does not want Wit to make it agreeable and proper for Diversion; you have my leave to be as merry as you please: I ap­prehend it necessary to those of your Complexi­on, but you know I am under an Obligation not to—

Since the MAGGOT takes you so often, your Stars are very kind to make you always so happy in Conversation with your Companions in travel; and above all, with a Female Wit and Beauty, who help'd you out so well with your Remarks; but sure nothing could be better than the Remark the Man made upon the Steeple that stood when the Church could not; we never want Divine Warnings, were we so wise to make a right use of 'em.

Your Female Companion wanted not the Curio­sity of a perfect Woman, no more than the Charms [Page] of perfect Beauty; but if her Wit was as perfect [...] all the rest, she might chuse that inquisitive way as the most sure to oblige you, and make the Conversation the more agreeable between you.

I can't much condemn Clara, If she cou'd [...] in her heart to out-do you in Tenderness; I think it a laudable Ambition to out-do you in Wit too▪ and it may be she feared to be defective, if she did not value her self upon it, as Wits often do, especially upon the sudden Accession of the unexpected Ho­nour received by it; and as humbling as your Verses were, 'tis like they rather increas'd her Pride [...] find a Man of so much Sence, so much concern'd, [...] her; and if you value my Judgment, I think you had as much reason to slight her when she out-did you in Tenderness, as when she out-did her self in Pride and Contempt of you.

I might suppose there were no Beggars in Ireland, from your making no Remarks of the Charity, amongst those Persons whose many other Vertu [...] you mention, as well as from your saying nothing in particular of the Beggars; for I am satisfied, 'tis the false notion of the Charitable, that makes so ma­ny Beggars, when they think themselves obliged to give to all that ask, from our Saviour's Command; they are not so ready to take notice, that he adds, and from him that would borrow of thee, turn thou not away; the World abounds not much with that kind of Charity: To my apprehension, our Saviour intended that Precept to shew us the charitable Disposition a Christian ought to have, both to give or lend, upon occasion; but not to make our selves and Charity a Prey to those that make it their Trade to cheat and abuse both the one and the other: There is nothing would do Charity more right, then a Law that should forbid relieving Beggars at Random, meerly to be rid of their Noise and Clamour; and ways found out to employ the Charity of well-disposed Persons, to the good and benefit of the Town and Country where they live; [Page 532] that the truly Poor may find Persons to apply to for Relief, who both knows them and their Wants: Such a Law, and the careful Execution of it, would deserve the Parliaments Care, as much per­haps, as any other they can pretend to bless the Nation with; and thus the publick Charity secured, there is more liberty for the private, of which the charitable Persons themselves takes so slight ac­count, their left hand scarce knows what their right hand does, so many and various are the occasions of Charity they are ingaged in, consisting in many different ways of doing good, as in lending Money or Goods, and not exacting the Payment where the Persons are not in a Condition to pay; in forgiving Wrongs and Injuries, concealing and bearing with Infirmities; in Advice, and Admonishing; in a word, in every thing in which we can assist ones Neighbour, tho' with some difficulty and hardship to ones self.

Your Character of Ireland in Verse, is very fine and just, but I shall shorten my Reflections upon your Prose Character, 'tis not a Subject I love to dwell upon; perhaps the moisture of the Air may contribute much to their flegm and sloth; but I suppose 'tis the contempt in which the Government holds 'em, that is the cause of their brutality; sure if it were thought worth their Pains, they are as capable of being civiliz'd as the other barbarous Nations who have been brought to Christianity. You talk of Priests for their Conductors, sure they must have been Priests of Dan, that had so well instructed those People; for I perceive the best among 'em, that live in Cities, excell only in fashionable Villanies.

I am inclin'd to think your Friend Wilde deserves to the full, all the Glories of his Character, both as to his Vertues, and natural Endowments; to be as you affirm of him, the same good Man in all Events, and a fit Companion for the nicest Christian; ad [...] to this his great Love to the present Government. [Page 533] These are all Vertues of no common size; yet 'tis very possible he may fail of that Reward you expect for him in time, and meet a more ample Reward in a Place where Time shall have nothing to do; nor can he lose by that, even in this World, for Vertue is its own Reward and End.

'Tis a surprizing Character you give of Doctor Phoenix! I know not whether such another will spring out of his Ashes? To be modest and humble, ascribing all his Success to God, and to impart his Skill to the Poor for Charity, are Vertues the ge­nerality of our Physitians are Strangers to; and tho' they pretend to rail at Quacks, they have both one aim; which is more at their Patients Purses, and their own Fame and Reputations, than the Health and Recovery the sick Party gives their Money for.

Tho' I acknowledge the force of Imagination to be very great, I can't conceive how two such Per­sons should be so transported, as one to fancy the Story, and the other the Circumstances to support it; nor, is there any thing incredible in the whole Relation, attested by two such Persons as you repre­sent 'em: The Lady's Courage was the most surpri­sing part of the Story; but I confess it would nei­ther confirm or destroy the Doctrine of Baptizing Children with me, as I believe it was the Devil; what he teaches is of little weight, his Policies are so refined, 'tis hard to guess at his Designs; but to be sure, his intent is always to deceive; and then most certainly, when he most contradict▪ his own Inte­rest. I wonder at the Dean's so slightly imputing it to the force of Imagination, unless he's of the same Mind with a Minister I once discoursed with; who deny'd the Devils Power to possess any Persons: Not­withstanding many Instances I alledged out of the New Testament, he affirm'd all those were only Lunatic [...]s. I was much surpriz'd at such an auda­ciousness against such plain Scripture! Cou'd I find the like for Souls entering into Bodies after they [Page 534] have cast 'em off, I should not generally impute all Apparitions to the Devil, as I do. Not that I be­lieve they enter into Bodies to appear in, but that we only are deceived with the appearance of a Body; for in this case the Persons had been dead so long, their Bodies must needs be corrupted. I believe as well, in some special occasions, God sends his Angels still, as he did formerly, in humane Shapes, to warn or protect his Servants from some dangers; but not to take upon 'em the Persons of the Dead, to teach or confirm any point of Faith or Doctrine; I never found any thing in Scripture to countenance such an Opinion. If Imagination had such a Power over the Lady as the Dean pretended to think, to save his giving Sentence in a case so difficult; (tho' who knows but he did believe so in reality?) that pretty Robin had been a subject proper to delude her, ha­ving Qualities so much above his kind. I wish, when the Bird dies, the Devil don't take its shape, and visit the Lady again, she gave him so kind an Entertainment in the Person of her Vncle.

Libraries appear much greater in the Eyes of the World, in my Opinion, then indeed they are; we think we have a great Treasure there of the Thoughts of Men, but the multitude of those Thoughts shews the weakness of 'em. What need so much be said? If they were all agreed upon the Truth, one Demonstration would reduce all the rest to silence, and bring Knowledge to a much narrow­er Compass. I take that to be the Curse that be­long'd to the Soul of Man; that as his Body was con­demn'd to labour, and the Earth at the same time to bring forth Thornes and Thistles, so his Mind should have a continual thirst and desire after Knowledge, and be constantly deceiv'd with appearances. Yet what can be more proper to humble Man for his first Presumption, when it brings him at last to see and acknowledge his own Weakness and Ignorance, and to find, after all his Pains in humane Learning, there's no true Knowledge but that which David [Page 535] found in the study of Gods Law, which made him wiser than the Aged?

I hope you will not be startled at this stupendious temerity of a foolish Woman; 'tis my sence, which I have your leave to own upon every occasion you give me; and I find some countenance to this Opi­nion in the first Volume of the Port Royal.

But whatever I think of the vast Curiosity of Books and Libraries, I am no Enemy to the Stu­dious; for I allow fine Buildings and Gardens can't be better bestow'd, than on such; the labours of the Mind require that Pleasure; it goes as far as any thing that's humane, towards the inspiring great and noble Thoughts; the Body can't be de­ny'd such innocent Pleasure, while the hardship of Study debars it of so many other.

The Dyal placed on the Pile of Books, perfectly shews us the boundless Curiosity of humane Know­ledge; it was labour in vain; not that he could not do what he proposed; But for what good was it? He did it because he could do it, and that the World should know so much; like those that make it the only end of their Study, to be reputed Learned.

It must be a great and magnificent Iubilee that's cele­brated but once in a 100 years: 'Tis remarkable▪ That there never was a Crown'd Head, that ever had those Honours done to their Memories, as that blessed Queen has had: No length of time can de­face the Memory of her good Deeds, so strong and lasting above all her Ancestors; it shows us plainly, That God accomplishes the greatest things by the weakest means, that to him alone we may as­cribe the Glory; and no question but so she [...] in an eminent degree, she had so great Suc [...]ess in all her Enterprizes. Mr. Tat [...]'s Ode, I believe, was very pleasing, when finely sung; he's a little dark in his Praise of the succeeding Princes; should the World [Page 536] last another Age, nothing could deprive the 9th of Ianuary of such another joyful Iubilee, unless some universal Blessing, transcendent to all we have yet enjoy'd.

In your Character of Collonel Butler, there is nothing wanting to a very accomplish'd Person; and perhaps the innocent Recreation he allow'd him­self, of Painting in the intervals of his Study, as it contributed a great deal of Pleasure, so much of his Vertue might be owing to that happy Genius that fill'd up his vacant Hours, and gave him neither Leisure nor Inclination to seek the occasions of di­verting in Places of Vice and Idleness.

I perceive the Art of Painting is affected amongst the Gentlemen in that Country; your Friend D—ne had her Picture drawn by a Gentleman in Ireland, but he was no great Artist then, he may be im­prov'd since.

The Collonel's Humility you admir'd so much, is very often the effect of a Great and Noble Education, that, whatever there is within, fails not to appear outwardly humble and obliging; wisely consider­ing, nothing shocks the generality of the World, so much as Pride; but to you it might be a parti­cular mark of Respect, you having obliged his learned Temper in so many Circumstances.

I wish the Lord Mayors of England would emu­late those in Ireland, and by their good Deeds furnish matter to the News Letters of Applause, and our Poets would not be out-done by the Irish in Congratulatory Poems. I confess, I think it strange, that as they are generally rich Men, and have so great opportunity of doing good, and whatever trouble it gives 'em, 'tis but for one year, that they should not use all their effort to reform, as much as possible, all the Abuses in the City, of which they themselves might reap the benefit so many years after; with the Prayers, Applause, [Page 537] and Blessings of all the Persons concern'd. And why they should not every one exceed his Successor, by the Experience he might get from the others Fail­ings, no reason can be given; unless, because they are rich Men, who have been so used to draw all Fish to their own Nets, they can think of nothing else but meer Lord Mayors, and Iustices of the Peace. Such in their Offices as they ought, they have it much in their Power to give this Kingdom a very different Face from what it now has.

I perceive you are much taken up with the Ob­servation of the Mens Wives you took your leave of, never failing, whatever haste you had, to in­form your self of all their good Qualities. I won­der what could make you think of reckoning up the bad ones, when you met with none but good? You might from your own Experience and Obser­vation, almost believe there was no such thing as a bad Wife in the World.

I think you are a little singular in your love and esteem of Apothecaries, there's few has your Inclina­tion or Reason for it; they are to most Persons, like their Physick, more toothsome than wholesome.

You lay great stress, and not without Reason, upon performing of Promises; but I see no reason why that should be more damnable than other Sins as mischievous; if the Person promis'd with a design to deceive, never intending to perform it, 'tis a great and presumptuous Sin; but Repentance is the Remedy for that, as well as the least Sin, which is no less dangerous without it; as also when a Per­son promises, and for their Interest forbears Perfor­mance, because it is to their own Injury, 'tis not safe to live or die in such a Sin of Self-love and Injustice; nothing can secure 'em but Repentance, and only such a one as repairs the Injury. But 'tis possible to make a Promise with a full intent to perform, yet afterwards want the Power; or the Promise may be of such a Nature, that not performing may be [Page 538] rather an Advantage than Injury to the Person inga­ged to; both these cases lessens the Crime, and makes it rather a Misfortune to have promised, then a Sin not to perform; which would make one almost afraid to ingage in any Promise.

Sure no Persons deserve ones pity like the poor Misers; there is much of Constitution in it, and which improves much by a long habit of scraping; tho' they see and know their fault, they can no more cure it, than an old inveterate Disease, when one goes the wrong way about it: For this is their Case, They think all the World [...] 'em, because they wish to have their Bags; without considering, they as much despise 'em for their way of living. No bo [...] would be condemn'd to Riches upon such terms, but those of their own Temper: But sure 'tis not impossible for the [...] to enjoy those Riches with Comfart, if he uses 'em as all Riches ought to be used, [...] no other Portion of 'em to him­self, then his Condit [...]n requires, and make him­self Steward to the Poor for all the rest; this will sancti [...]ie one part [...]o himself, and give him the bles­sed opportunity of doing with the other part a great deal of good.

You was well advised, not to discompose your Temper with the Thoughts of your Enemies, till you had taken leave of your Friends; and if you had left 'em out of your Thoughts still, it had been no great harm: But you think their Crimes deserve Chastisement; and the Iustice you owe to your Reputation, obliges to the exposing such Men.

What need you ask Pardon for your own Cha­racter amongst the rest? It had been an unpar­donable Fault, to pretend to know every one you convers'd with a few Moments, and not know your self, with whom you have convers'd so long: Besides, 'tis using them as you use your [...]; and, that you did not remark their Faults, [Page 539] as you have your own, is, that they conceal'd 'em from you.

There's great Reason for laying the Founda­tion of your chief Perfection upon your descent from the Tribe of Levi; for according to St. Paul, they are, or should be, the Men that Rule their own Houses well, having their Children in Subjection with all Gravity; for tho' Grace comes not by de­scent, yet by a sober and vertuous Education, the Enemies of Grace are so far disarm'd, that when it pleases God to send it, it must needs have the better Reception; a long habit of Submission and Self-denyal, will qualifie 'em to act more readily to Gods Glory, than those that are over-loaded with the evil Customs and Corruptions of the World.

I can't think but 'tis the happy Success of being so agreeable to both your Wives, makes you so in love with the State of Marriage, so inconsistent with your great love and fancy'd Destiny to Travel; of which I think with you, that the chief Pleasure is, of seeing the World unseen; not being known, but guest at. I fancy therefore, the Project you design to call The Art of Living Incognito, will be very pleasant; but to publish the Characters of your Living Acquaintance, will be a great and difficult Task, especially for you that are so very scrupulous of doing the least Injustice; many Persons Words, Looks, and Actions, belie their Hearts; and with­out an infallible Rule, of which I know nothing, you will at least be thought to err, there being no means to prove the contrary; and tho' you should incline to the most charitable side, Truth is the same in both, and there's the same Injustice to com­mend as discommend, where they don't deserve it; besides the danger of creating amongst your Ac­quaintance much Envy and Uncharitableness, there must appear in all your Words and Actions, an excessive Charity, and exact Iustice, to take off any suspition of your being acted by Prejudice or Par­tiality: [Page 540] If any thing can secure you, it must be the Persons being all Living, to whom you must an­swer for any wrong you do 'em; and from those you commend, your Pardon is secur'd against all Accusers, but only Truth, which condemns if inju­red: But sure, the Characters of the Living are much to be preferr'd before those of the Dead; we see plainly, [...]ow little Truth their Characters con­tain. How are all the good Deeds of the Vertuous heightned, one would think there were nothing of Sin or Infirmity in 'em? And for the Vicious, their Cr [...]mes are exagerated, they scarce allow 'em the least degree of humane Vertues: But if the World were as much in love with Truth, as it were to be wish'd, there might be good use of such Cha­racters; and Persons would as willingly see the Pictures of their Minds, as of their Faces, and be as fond of making 'em worth the drawing.

But to find Persons willing themselves to publish and expose their own Faults and Infirmities, we may expect in the next Age, if it brings the Reign of Charity according to Monsieur Iurie [...]; and hardly till then, tho' you set the Example; but for Vices, they are too monstrous and deform'd, to dare the exposing themselves in a full Light; for which I thank 'em, for I hate the sight of 'em.

I perceive you think you have many Enemies upon account of Religion, because you favour no particular Party; 'tis certain, in any Place where there are many Factions and Divisions, none are so generally hated as those that carry fair with all, and take part with none; and that [...]s all the many Names and Distinctions in Religion are good for, to make Fe [...]ds and Animosities, and by that means one knows from whence they come, having none of the Effect and Power of that Religion that comes from above, which is first Pure, and then Peaceable. Sincerity and Charity is the surest Mark of Christian Religion. 'Twere much to be wish'd, all the re­formed Churches were united in the Spirit of Cha­rity; [Page 541] then, and not till then, we may expect the Inlargement of Christ's Kingdom; while at this day so many falls from us to Atheism, seeing so much of self-interest, and the spirit of the World, in the strictest and most formal Professors amongst us; and 'tis to them a Temptation to believe there is nothing but secular Interest in that which we call Religion, in which there is so much Contention to raise themselves one above another in Riches and Honour; this is what many sees and laments, and wishes they themselves may see before 'tis too late.

They can be but meer Pretenders to Religion, that allow themselves lightly to censure or judge any one; for both Charity and Humility forbids such a Practice; we see our own depraved Nature in every bodies Faults, which ought to humble us with Sorrow for 'em, as if they were our own; and that will prevent, if we have the least charitable con­cern for others, our being pleased or desirous to see Faults, and divulge those we can't chuse but see; for no Faults can in Charity be expos'd, that has the least pretence to Infirmity: Your carriage therefore to your Adversary, was exceeding Christi­an and charitable, and make his Faults such as de­served to be exposed as a foil to Vertue, if it needed any, which I scorn to think; for I am an equal Rival with you in the love of Vertue, as it ap­pears only to my Mind; but were it to be seen with bodily Eyes, I fear I should come far behind you. 'Tis a very laudable design you carry on, of recom­mending Vertue, by giving such noble and pleasant Ideas of it in the Characters you make; and sure it cannot want Success in all respects; there must certainly be some Persons 'twill prevail upon; as in St. Cicelies Ode,

See what Glory can perswade
Those that are for Glory made,

[Page 542] May be here apply'd to Vertue; but whatever is the Fate, you are always happy, while so resign'd to the Divine Pleasure: An easie and contented Temper is a great Blessing. But why should you value your self for being a blunt Fellow? Can't eve­ry one be master of that Vertue, if they like it? And why disdain ye the Name of a Poet, only for being Poor? Is there such Vertue in being Rich? What reason can be assign'd for such an inevitable Fate, unless 'tis the Effect of Fancy; which, as it raises their Thoughts and Expressions far above the Truth, so it raises themselves in Imagination, to the Condition of Angels, that need nothing; which makes 'em take care for nothing, till 'tis too late? Or, perhaps Divine Providence will not trust such Men with a Talent of Riches, who so idly throw away their Talent of Time, which is far more precious.

Yet after all, you seem to own you treat your Friends with Distinction, some from the Brain, and others from the Heart; but 'tis not easie to judge of this part of your Character, tho' I dare affirm you never deceive others, till you have first deceiv'd your self. I believe 'tis very hard, and must be the work of time, exactly to determine this distincti­on; yet one would think a Heart that lies open, could not fail to be known, both to it self, and others; but according to the Italian Proverb, He that builds his House in the Street, 'tis either too high, or too low. So a Man that should have no better means of knowing himself, than what he may get from the Light and Testimony of others, may be as much a Stranger to what he truly is, as the Men in great Power and Riches, that feed upon Flattery, as well of their own, as others, must needs frame an Idea of themselves, very different from what they really are.

Tho' 'tis nothing strange the generality of the World should not court your Friendship, in respect to your love to Truth, and speaking freely of Per­sons [Page 543] Faults; but it would be very strange, if that Person should not have one Friend in the World, that has one of the best Qualifications for it. To have ones Faults truly and sincerely told one by ones Friend in Charity, is an advantage nothing in this World can equal; and of great value to those that understand it, and is what you have the most reason, of any one, to prize; for if any thing fix your Mercury, cure your Rashness, and save your repenting of every thing you do, it must be the Light and Counsel of a Friend. I can't hinder my self from thinking, that your never repenting of taking two Women for better for worse, was the Effect of a very good and wise Friend's Counsel; what else could make you do a thing so extraordinary, when so contrary to your natural Practise? But to take a little from this great Miracle, perhap [...] [...]our know­ing 'twas good not to repent, made you fancy you did not.

And yet after all, you must pardon me, if I don't think you as fit to make a Friend as any Man; for he that is a single Man, and chuses to be so, is fitter; For what must your Wife do, [...]en you give all to your Friend? And a Man more mode­rately qualified, is fitter; for he may be suited in the Temper of a Friend; but where can you be match'd in Fidelity, Compassion, and Generosity? You may expect that return of Love and Gratitude; (for who can chuse but love such Qualities?) But yet the Love that you describe, which Crimes can't deface, is as transcendent as all the rest; and if you think it just to slight what loves not as much as your self, I wish you may, 'tis pity you should not; but I fear you never will be suited with a Friend. I can­not blame your not being forward in contracting Friendships, 'tis so uncertain how they may prove; but to a long and try'd Fidelity, I own all to be due that you propose in your Friendship.

The exactness of your Rules in Traffick and Deal­ings, is of very good Example; there are few lay [Page 544] that stress upon it they ought; there's more of Re­ligion in it than is generally consider'd, while their Thoughts are taken up with the love of Gain. You have a great Happiness in sitting so loose from the love of Money, and yet retain so just a value for it, as to make the proper use of it.

I don't see you have commended your self so much in your Character as needs either Apology or Pardon; the Glory you assume in point of Friendship, you have only in Speculation, no [...] Practice; 'tis not what you are, but what you should be, whenever you ingage with a Friend deserves it. Nor shall I make any Apolo­gy for disappointing you of the Satyr you expected; tho' I think I have in many particulars, drawn you just as you appear to me in this Light; and since I have thus [...] endeavour'd to serve you, I hope I may be excus'd from writing my own Character; the publishing ones own Faults, is not a common Ver­tue; 'tis the fate of Novelty to please or displease extreamly; let me see the Event therefore, before I take the Example. I leave you in pursuit of Argus, supposing him a common Enemy, which justifies the Pains you take to find him; and upon the whole Matter, as far as I am inform'd by this Account of your Conversation, if my SENTENCE is of any value, I judge it must be a very malignant Temper, or a great Interest and Self-love, could make any Man your Enemy. And thus Concludes

Your, &c.

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