A LETTER FROM THE LADY CRESWELL TO Madam C. the Midwife, ON The Publishing her late VINDICATION, &c.
ALSO A Whip for Impudence: OR, A Lashing Repartee to the Snarling Midwifes MATCHLESS ROGUE: BEING AN ANSWER to that RAYLING LIBEL.

Dear Daughter,

I Was strangely surpriz'd the other Morning, when being awakened out of my first Morning-sleep, (for you know our Concerns are most in the Night-watches;) I heard one of the ragged Regiment, or a Bookseller in Masquerade, bawling out, Madam Cellier's Vindication, &c. I then immediately concluded to have it, cost what it would; ay, and read it too: though I have but two usual Books for my Library which have layen in the Dining-room-window these 30 years untoucht by me, or by any of my Children; yet I was now resolved to make an Addition to 'um.

[Page 2] And now having read it over in a full Assembly of my Children, (for I have some that are Plaguy Jades at State Politicks, and Sham Plots; but to say truth, 'tis only to get an honourable and a handsom Livelyhood, or supply the Defects of a weak Husband, or so:) I must needs tell you, I did admire which way 'twas possible you should arrive to that pro­digious knowledge in the Intrigues of Plots and Treasons, and such like Matters: Surely I have known you many years, and I never thought you such a parlous Woman; well, the World is well amended with you. But how, in the Name of Aretine, came you to light upon such a Don Quixot as Dangerfield, to carry on the honourable Designs which you were en­gaged in? Surely had you consulted the Westminster Augury, you would have been better in­formed; but in that case it seems you did not, and so you brought your self into a very dangerous Condition. Yet now I think on't, 'tis well you did meet with such a person, for had he not been an abominable over-grown Rogue, for all your Vindication, I am afraid the Justice of the Law would have sent you after those Innocont Babes, that were Sledg'd up Holborn-hill not long since, for the Testimony of your Holy Church. And thanks to the Clerk that drew up the Parden, for omitting the most material Facts he had been guilty of; or truly Daughter, you could not have escaped as I think. For when I consider how first you en­gaged in the Concern, and the Reasons that perswaded you thereto, and what Advances you made therein; I declare to you, I cannot see over-much Innocence in you, but a con­founded deal of Impudence. Pray Forsooth good Madam, where was your Modesty in An­swering the Lord Chancellor, as if he had been your Companion? And if Susan would have spoke all, where was your Modesty, or at least what might you do, when your Husband was at Church in a Chamber with a man alone? Why, truly we must give you our Judgment, that Deep Mysteries of State must be secret, and private Refreshments must be kept for the Eye of the World. You know I am a Woman of Experience, and can guess shrewdly in such Affairs. But pray Daughter tell me, what perswaded you to leave your honourable Calling off, for these Political Concerns; surely you have a desire after Glory, and to be esteemed one of the Eldest Daughters of the Whore of Babylon. Alas! what was S. Coleman or S. Ire­land, &c. to you, Madam, meer Children in Politicks; you have not only been as deep in the Mire as ever they were, but you have vanquisht all that rise up against you. No doubt but ere now, our Sisters of the Seraglio of Rome have heard of your Fame, and are singing there Io Paeans, for Joy that they have got so valiant a She-Champion on the side of the Great Harlot. Well, Daughter go on and prosper, for I account if the Romish Cause takes, we shall have a more fixed and establisht Trade than ever we had; though the truth is, I can­not complain of late years, since Justices of Peace instead of punishing Offenders in our way, are Sinners themselves in the same —. However, we are liable to the Law, and so we shall not, when we have License and Tolleration to follow our Profession with quietness, and without any disturbance. But then again I consider, as to the Point of your Religion, 'tis the best in the World for us, for we can Whore and whore again, and Confess and fess, and obtain Pardon, and be pardoned to all intents and purposes, and go out of the World after a whole life of sinning, as Innocent as Children unborn. So that I say, 'tis much to our com­fort that you are driving on such a Design, though for my part 'tis all one to me what Re­ligion goes up, I am old, and hope to live and die honestly in my Calling. One thing Daugh­ter I am resolved on, never to concern my self with State Matters, as you have done, and am afraid was much out of your way: You have an honest Calling, and though I say it, a very ancient one, and was of great esteem in all Ages of the World; I admire who bewitch­ed you to this Trade of Sham-plotting? It could not be my Lord of S— nor his Servants, for he is too wise, and his Servants too wary sure, to concern themselves in such Afairs; we have had Experience enough of his Wisdom and Policy, and Introth he hath lived to a fair Age, if a Newgate Bird and a Midwife shall out-wit him at Politicks. I protest serious­ly, Daughter, I am afraid you have taken in a Club of S. Omers Saints to help you out at this dead lift: For to say truth. I believe you lost abundance of Reputation by being in Newgate, and Try'd for your Life; and consequently your Trade, and that is able to vex any Woman in England, especially one of your lofty Spirit. But I would fain know, Daughter, why you parted with you Money so freely to Capt. Dangerfield in getting him [Page 3] out of Prison, and Cloathing him; was it to get in your Husbands debts only or no, or was it for some other private Intrigues? truly I am afraid so. And so would I have all Trade­ing French-men served, that know not how to get in their own Debts, without employing Felons, and such sort of men to do it. I hope in the next Edition of your Book, we shall have a true account of it, for I am not satisfied, that that was the only reason of your kindness to him.

And then again, I protest I am not satisfied (nor any of my Children, who are hugely concerned for you) that the Presbyterians should contrive a Plot against the present Govern­ment at this time when your Friends are so hard at work to do it; surely they will not joyn hand in hand with you; their Principles are Diametrically Opposite, and besides, they have got nothing by former Practices of that Nature, which yet were contrived and car­ried on by the Cunning-men of your Church, as my Old Friend and Son Harry Martin has of­ten in private told me in those daies, and though I say it, he was able to judge as well as the best of 'um all.

Now methinks its strange, that this great Meal-Tub-Plot should have so few heads and hands concerned in it, and after all the Consultations you and your Friend Dangerfield had about it, you should discover no more; truly Daughter, I should be glad (and so would a great many more) to have the whole truth out, of the several Conferences with the Lord P. and some other your great acquaintances: that would be worth the while, but you will not be so Candid. 'Twould satisfie abundance of People that cannot find in their Hearts to believe all you have Writ, nor indeed hardly any part of it. Well! I find Company coming in, and must conclude with some Grave and Motherly advice. Beware what you do, and repent what you have done, lest Capt. Richardson gets you into his Clutches again. For I am afraid, you will find my Lord S. and his Servants, Sir R. P. and Sir W. W. Mr. Prannce, and a great many more Substantial Evidences will come against you for the Political lies you have told in your Book; And for endeavouring to Invalidate the Kings Evidence, and re­presenting your Popish Plot as a thing of no consequence. And yet in Charity to you as of the weaker Sex, I believe some Wilde House Chaplains have foisted in a great many things in­to your Narrative, that you were not the Author of your self. But let it pass: I pity you with all my heart, and I make it my earnest request, you would mind only your Lawfull and Honourable calling, and getting in your Husbands Debts, and be usefull to all good Men, in an honest and civil way: and don't trouble your self any farther with Plotters, and Plots, and Treasons. I have a kindness for you, and what further I have to say (for Trading be­gins to come in apace) I will tell you, if you will Oblige me with your Company, at my House at any time, and will have a Bottle of Rhenish or two at your Service.

In much hast I conclude,
Your loving Monitor,

I may seem as Mad as this Snarling Midwife, to go about to answer madness it self; for by her Rage and Fury one would think the Gentlewoman fit Company for the Pewterers Wife in Bethlem, who run mad through Pride: so the Pride and vain Glory of this Wo­mans mind makes her self believe, that she is a brave She Championess, and able to Cope with all the World: otherwise she would have desisted after her first Essay, seeing so many Pens levell'd against her. But I perceive her branded with Impudence, which as it still ac­companies [Page 4] Madness, usually also goes hand in hand with Folly. Therefore, let this Wo­man be either Fool or Mad, we will endeavour to cure her of the Last by Lashing; and Soloman saies, That sometimes 'tis requisite to answer a Fool according to his Folly, that he may not appear wise in his own Conceit.

But indeed I shall be at a loss for apt Words and Expressions, to set forth this She-Donna Quixot, for she encounters with many Wind-mills, and is armed Cap-a-Pe with Impudence and Lying: she smells rank of Rome, and stinks of Plots and Conspiracies; she is armed with a Jesuits Launce and a Sword for the Cause, which she furiously brandishes, and would at least Cut off the Head off Poor Thomaso, the chiefest Object of her Anger, for betraying her hopes, and for over-throwing all her wicked designes, and Malicious Projects. But it seems strange to me, that she who so lately escaped the Halter, should so soon run her self in danger of wearing the Wooden Ruff, and to be pelted to death with Rotten Eggs and Ap­ples. But she defies Scandalum Magnatum, and all the Statutes, and all the Persons of Ho­nour she has abused and defamed; but unless the World will be so charitable as to believe her Mad, and that all her railing is her Barking and Howling against the Moon, the employ of an Irrational Animal, I know what will betide her.

Well, but this learned Gentlewoman, for so she would seem to be by her Similes, had many reflections and imaginations crept into her Head, as she saies in her Paper, but these were Worms and Maggots, which trouble her Brain, and set her again to Writing, and would make you believe her whole Book was made up of Irrefragable Truths: but worthy Madam, it will not do, for all the World believes, nay your selves know, whose Nodles Composed it, that 'tis made up of nothing almost but Lies and untruths, and is indeed from the beginning to the end a Grand Libel, endeavouring to bespatter and belie a whole Nation, and therefore may well be confuted with that one Word, not Bellarmine, but Ma­dam Celliers thou liest.

The Lady is desparately angry at the Title of Captain given to Dangerfield, but methinks he is not so fond of it, and may as well deserve it as she of the Title of Madam, which affects her much: But if it be his Fortitude of Suffering that makes him deserving of the Title, perhaps e're long you may also be worthy of that of Madam: in the mean time Mistress is too good for you, for the Old English Word Goody or Goodwife Celliers may serve your turn, though you give a Dove and an Anchor with a Rope for your Arms. Though now Captain be a Name too good for Dangerfield, he has often enough been intitled so by your self when time was, and had he stuck close to you and your Intrigues, he should have been a Colonel at least before this, and all his Blew Stigma's been forgot.

Though the Living Captain be the Object of your Spleen, yet the Dead Captain might lie quiet in his Grave, and it becomes not a Woman of your profession to wear Long Nailes, to scratch the Dead out of their Tombs, and to abuse their Names, which the very Heathen abhorred. But Madam Celliers is one that neither fears God nor Man, for she defies all, e­ven Captain Richardson himself. Have a care, Madam, you come not within his Inchanted Castle again, lest you want a Knight Errant to release you, for he is a Fell Gyant as you have made him.

It is but just and requisite the Jesuitical Crew should stick close to this Mother-Midnight, for they will never be able to find again so laborious and Skilfull a Woman; and there­fore she was chose out to bring the Plot to Bed of its Twins: but the Birth of the First, proving Monstrous, she miscarried in the delivery of the Latter, and smothered it in the Meal Tub. The next Work she is to do, being so very Dexterous, will be to bring the Whore of Babylon to Bed of her Litter; and had she been alive in the time of Pope Joan, she had not so publickly miscarried in her Procession. It is therefore but fitting that the Me­mory of this Memorable Madam, be preserved, which that it may be, we have endervour­ed here among the rest to make known her Worth and excellent Parts, which has imployed so many Pens, that after Ages will admire the Monster.


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