THe Worthy Mr. Ferg—

The Reverend Sir Roger.

Oh Sir, this is a smile of Fortune indeed, when in this melancholly Region of Abdication I am permitted, thanks to a kind Goaler, the conversation of the celebrated Mr. Ferg—, whose Person though I never had the Honour to be acquainted with, yet his Name and Merits have been my particu­lar Familliarity.

Yes Sir, I understand my Name and Merits have been your particular Intimacy; you have been both their Herauld and Hi­storian, and have blazon'd them in capital BLACKS in many a fair Observator.

Really Sir, you do me a great deal of right; I have never been sparing of Black and White: The flourishes of my Quill have been profusely generous. I never saw any shining Feature, or Mosaick face, from Great Noll's Nose to Little Titus his Chin, but I have play'd the kind Lely. A beautiful Pen should never want Drapery, where my pen­cil could furnish it.

'Tis worthily said of you. You speak like a plain Dealer.

But, Mr Ferguson, I have had a long desire of kissing your Hand by the way of congratulation, and welcome to our side. From a Saul to a Paul, a Persecutor to a De­vote; as there's joy even in Heaven at a sin­ner's conversion, give me leave to express no common Transport, in gaining so consider­able a Patron to our glorious though, at pre­sent, drooping Cause.

Ay, Sir Roger, I am a sort of a Come-over, to that drooping Cause, as you call it, Ecce signum, these Bonds.

Ay, that's our common misfor­tune. But, Mr. Ferg—, I hope the great Truths that I have so long preacht, publish­ed and recorded, amongst the many Eyes they have opened, have had some illumina­tion upon Mr. Ferg—; for I should be proud of being any ways instrumental to so emi­nent a Conversion.

Nay, Sir Roger, not to boast any great operation upon me; for I am a meet Volunteer, and my whole Illumination is purely my own, nevertheless I must give thee this immortal Applause, That the pro­testant Zealots that have had any hand in this Plot, or been well-wishers towards it, are most, if not all, thy Disciples; and all that die in it, are no better than thy Martyrs.

Good Heaven forbid! My Mar­tyrs! What, draw innocent Blood upon my head: Lord have mercy on Me. I hope you are not in earnest.

Nay, 'tis too true for a Jest. I say nothing but what I can prove.

How prove Sir! I hope you do not set up for an Evidence.

No, Sir Roger, as I am a bonny Scot, I am more a Gentleman than to make a Pea­cher; not but my natural, personal Tender­ness would go far, to tempt my mortal Frailty that way: However there's no dan­ger of me in that Case, for had I an inclina­tion towards it, I am affraid the World wants Faith, and a Ferg—'s Oracles would find but few Believers: And therefore pray Sir Roger, dispel that bodily fear: All I have to say is only Inter nos.

Nay, then you have dispell'd my fear, and therefore pray go on with this bloody▪ Charge against me, for I dare stand any Arraignment, where there's neither the face of Judge nor Jury, Mr. Ferg—.

Say you so? Then pray tell me [Page 2] what are all our Jacobite Fools, but Pupils and Proselites to those two Pillars of thy Church, Jure Divino and Passive Obedience.

And what have you to object against those two Pillars?

Nay, no great matter, but only that a very weak Sampson may totter them: For, in short, what is thy Divine Right from a­bove, and our Non-Resistance below, and all thy long-winded Arguments upon that Sub­ject, any more than so many high flown En­thusiasms, to help up the Golden Image of an Arbitrary Nebuchadnezar, whilst that Fidle of thine, thy Observators, have been the Psaltreys and Sackbuts, to tune us to fall down and worship. A King, at this rate by thy Assertion, provided his direct Succession be unquestionable, in nothing else, though never so indirect, can be questionable: For he may Be what he please, and Do what he Please, Set up what he please, and Pull down what he please, Swear what we and our Laws please, and perform what he and his No Law please; Run away from his Peo­ple when he pleases, and Return when and how he please: In fine, That a Right Line sanctifies all Wrong; That the True Blood in his Veins▪ Entitules him to the whole Blood in our Veins; And that if he please to take it, we must please to give it him, un­less our Tears or Prayers can sheild off the Blow; for Sir Roger is pleas'd to allow no o­ther Edge-Tool or Armour, Offensive or De­fensive for our protection.

Lord Sir, I am all amazement: can you talk at this wild rate, and be one of us?

One of You! Ay, never the worse for talking, old Boy. 'Tis a sign I am the more▪ ingenuous Friend to your Cause, when List under your Bannor, ex mero motu, frank­ly and generously: Not blindly drawn into a party by Cob-web Arguments, the Gin to catch Wood-cocks; Men of Sense are a­bove it.

But sure you don't think that the Right of our Great Master, his Divine Right of Royal Inheritance in his Caim to 3 Crowns a Triffle to be thus jested with?

Jest Sir! All Jest. There neither is, nor ever was any such Divine Right in the World.

How! No Divine Right.

Right is so far from any Claim Di­vine, that 'twas always the Creation of Pow­er, and Sanction of the Community. If a Lineal Chain of Succession be all thy Foun­dation, Prithee, in what part of the World wilt thou find it? How many times since the Conquest in 27 Raigns has that Suc­cession been broken, (and if once broken, 'tis never truly rejoined again): For in­stance, between the Houses of York and Lan­cashire, those quondam hot, and sometime bloo­dy Disputants of Soveraignty, How have Kings been deposed? What Changes made? and yet the present▪ Allegiance never que­stion'd nor disputed. What Divine Right had Harry the 7th. when the world will tell you his best Title lay in his Queen, and yet we never read that his People either mur­mur'd or quarrell'd his Recognition to the Throne, by Act of Parliament, out of any Grievance, that the Duke of Richmond was their Crown'd Head, and their Crown'd Hei­ress but a subject: Nor, as I ever heard, did his Son Harry the 8th. his Successor, upon the death of his Mother, claim possession be­fore his Father's decease, by any Pretension▪ of better Royal Blood in his own, than his Father had in his Veins.

But certainly the Divine Right of Monarchs—

Is a meer sophistry. The Juggle of Priest-craft, and pretension of Superstition. So far from any thing of Divine in the case, that God Almighty himself Abdicated (or very little better) the very first King even of his own making; laid Misgovernment to his charge, and Anointed his Successor even before his death, and that too in the person of his darling David, the Man after his own heart; so far from a Son or Right Heir of Saul, that he was no Kin to the Family, so little was Royal Succession the Care of Hea­ven, or ought to be the Quarrel of Man.

Truly, Mr. Ferg—, you talk strange bug words, but what ever your own private Opinion is, I hope you do not broach these Tenents amongst our Jacobite Friends.

Quite contrary, Sir Roger, for where populus vult decipi decipiatur. The Wise know better. Shall we be worse than the Race of Ham, uncover our own nakedness? No, Sir Roger, not all Evangelica veritas, but some pia Fraus. There's stratagem to be used in a Church Millitant, as well as a Camp Millitant, not all down right strength of Reason in one, nor length of Sword in the other: For Ex­ample, pray who were greater Assertors of that Jus Divinum Doctrine than our two last dying Friends, and as they had lived so strenu­ous in it, did not the wise managers of their death, those sweetners of Mortality, the 3 Tyburn Absolvers, very prudently take care that [Page 3] they should dye in it as strenuously too. Ay, Sir Roger▪ we must not be those false Traytors to our Cause, as to bewray our own Nest.

Verily, Mr. Ferg—, you discourse the Politicks of our Cause extreamly well. But to satisfie one Curiosity, pray let me quit this subject, and without offence be so bold as to ask you one single Question.

A double one, and wellcome, Sir.

Considering then the Character the World gives of You, your Fluctuating Principles and uneasiness in all Governments, how comes it that those worthy Gentlemen, concerned in this Glorious, tho dangerous Enterprize, dust lodge so great and Impor­tant a Trust with such volatile Mercury, as Mr. Ferg—'s?

My Character, say you! Why 'tis the only thing that recommended me to their Confidence. For pray, to compare Cases be­tween us; you are Zealots and Partisans in a Conspiracy (forsooth) out of a principle of Right and Justice. But I am animated by a Sprightlier Fire▪ am for Mutiny and Mischief, right or wrong. You act by dictates of Con­science and Honour; but I have been slighted and disobliged by the present Government, and my Motives against it are Spight and Re­venge. And Revenge never weighs nor dis­putes, when on the contrary, Honour may be tender and scrupulous: Besides, yours is but the Love, but mine the Lust of Rebellion: and Love may sometimes cool, when Lust always burns.

In troth, Mr. Ferg—, this Argu­ment savours a little too much of the Liber­tine. But you are a glorious Don John, and I am satisfied the worthy Gentlemen could not have made a nobler Choice, than such a Friend and Champion, as Mr. Ferg—.

Nay Sir, since you touch me in that sensible part, I must tell you farther, That I am always the Almanzor of a Conspiracy. Almanzor-like, I know neither one side nor to'ther, any longer then I am pushing in it: But then like an Almanzor too, no Man pushes so heartily and so home as I do. And for distinctions of which King, or what King, in short, I run a muck at all Kings; and in­deed at all Religions too: For, between Friends, My King, my Country, my Religi­on, my Heaven, are all centured in my self.

Really Mr. Ferg—, you here give me so extraordinary; and withal so ingenious a Declaration, that I must acknowledge you a person truly worthy Admiration, though not altogether Imitation. For though you are an absolute Original, and that no mean one, Yet, I confess, 'tis such a one as I durst not Copy. My tenderer Morals are a little more nice and squeamish; howe'er to give you your due renown; I heartily wish that all the Hands and Hearts, engaged in this Pious and honest Confederacy, had been all of your Nerve and Mould. For then, we might have hoped to have had an answerable success to the great­ness of the undertaking, and Resolution of the Undertakers, and not to have had it thus poor­ly miscarry, by so many Sieves and Spunges, the Leaky false Brothers, whose Cowardly Re­volts and Apostacy has so weakly and basely betray'd, it to our whole Causes utter Confusi­on and Ruine. For truly, Sir, though I my self cannot come up to your Heights, how­ever I must do you this Right, to own you one of the most quallified Instruments, to em­bark in any such Religious and Righteous bold▪ Cause. For indeed, 'tis alway my Maxim, That provided the Dagger be but Consecrated, no matter whether the hand be or no.

There you say Right, Sir Roger; For we have Holy Writ on our side in that point. For do we not read that Cyrus the Great, tho' a Heathen and Infidel, is called the Servant of God: viz. For the great ends for which God had raised him. And with the same parity of Reason, our Grand Patron Lewis, is the most Christian Servant of Jesus, though the most Faithful sworn Brother of Mahomet.

Nay, Mr. Ferg—, now you talk of such Great Men in their Age, as a Cyrus: and a Lewis. From their Great Examples, I think it but highly reasonable, and every ways honourable, that every Man that has the least glowing spark of Ambition in his Veins, should, and ought to signalize himself, by do­ing something that may make him Great and Famous in his Generation.

Famous in his Generation! Is that all? Ay, Famous to Posterity. That was always my Principle: To be a Constantine, or an Erostratus, to Found Churches, or Destroy Churches; Raise States, or subvert them; to do something Great either one way or t'other; (no matter which) to attempt any thing, and shrink at nothing, that may leave an Immor­tal Name behind me.

Nay, Mr. Ferg—, there we differ▪ An Erostratus is a little too much. I declare I was never that hardy Bout [...]eu neither. 'Tis true, now you talk of that Famous Incendiary, I confess, That fanning the Coles, or lighting the Train, to Fire or blow up a Conventicle has been my particular Master-piece and Glory. I was ever a profest Nero at such a Conflagra­tion, and Sung to my Fidle, as heartily, as that Illustious Roman to his Harp, at such a Bonefire. But as to the Church of England, I was ever so wholly in her Interests (as our dea [...] departed has it) so very tender there, till her [Page 4] Protection and preservation was ever so near and dear to me, that I avow my self her pro­fest Knight Errant, her Dimock, her Champion▪ &c. And now to tell you the very top of my Ambition, and height of all my hopes, and indeed the only great thing that I designed should immortallize my Name, was one glo­rious Projection that I had formed for the Church of England's service. Oh! 'twas the only grand [...] my fifty years▪ Bellows had been blowing for. My whole Great Birth, my M [...]nerv [...], my—

And pray, What was this glorious Projection?

You may remember, how, at the first Protestant Wane and Dawn of Popery, in my Observators, I projected an Accommodation—

Between both Churches.

Right Sir, an amicable Reconcili­ation between the old Roman Mother, and the Young▪ English Virgin Church: For mark you me Sir, to carry on this great work, having [...]t that time a wonderful Influence over [...] the C [...]rgy.

Influence! Ay, Sir Roger, thou wert whole and sole Lord of their Ascendant: An Absolute Pontifex Maximus amongst 'em; He the Servus Servorum, and thou the Guide of Guides. But pray go on.

Then, what with that Ascen­dance, and my own dint of Eloquence, I had projected, as I told you, such an Accommoda­tion, such an Eternal Foundation of Peace, such Pillars of an Irenicum, that had not the obstinacy of the Times obstructed so glorious a Pile, I had built a Tower that should have reacht Heaven, without the danger of one Tongue of Confusion: Brought the Lamb and the Lion to couch together▪ so lovingly and harmlessly, that instead of a M [...]lin at one end of the Town, and a [...]-Church at another, we had saved all that trouble; so [...]rusht, so quallified, so composed all Jars, till even from a Pauls to a Pa [...]r [...]ss, from the high­est to the lowest, one Roof should have held Both, as perfectly reconciled, as a Dancing-School and a Meeting-house: Nay, with all that sisterly Love, even to the quietness and innocence of a Switzerland Congregation; not one Church amongst us but should have had Mass in the Morning, and Common Prayer in the Afternoon.

Nay, this Design was great indeed.

Great! Ay, What could be grea­ter, especially on the Church of England's side? For what could have aggrandized the Church of England more, than her generous Hospital­lity▪ in Adopting, Naturalizing and Incorpo­rating so considerable an Addition to her Strength, Wealth and Fortunes. Whil'st like one Empire, but two Czars, our Church by this Hand-in-hand Reign, had arrived to the height even of an Absolute Muscovite Mo­narchy.

Upon my Veracity▪ Sir Roger, I never heard of a Design more Heroick.

Ay, Mr. Ferg. had my Good For­tune been but answerable to my Good Parts, without Vanity let me tell you, I and my Politicks, had set up my Royal Pupil James, (pardon my boldness) a second Great Alex­ander, and my self the Great Aristotle.

Ay, no doubt Sir Roger.

Nay, to credit my Good Parts, I always acted upon a Good Principle. I was ever for steering by the Chart of a good Con­science; and though I have stood up so high for Royal Prerogative, so I always abhorred Invasion of Rights and Property; as the whole practice of my Life, even in my own most di­minitive▪ Concerns and Converse with Man­kind, sufficiently testifie.

So very tender Conscienced say you, in all your Concerns! Nay, there you must pardon me. For I have heard a kind of an Out-cry amongst some Authors and Book­sellers.

That would pick a hole in my Scutcheon. Alas! poor snarlers. I know their Malice. Look you, Mr. Fer—, in my Reign of Imprimatur, when I was Sovereign Comptroller of the Press, I have made bold sometime, with a little innocent Pyracy, bor­rowed an Earing or two from the Egyptian Ver­mine. For when a good Copy came to my hands, I refused it a License, and writ upon the subject my self: And all the Justice in the World▪ For was not my Commission Absolute▪ I the Lord of the Glebe▪ and conse­quently the first Fruits my own. If that be their feeble sting against me— Look you Sir, at this very time am I now translating the Volume of the Famous Jos [...]phus. 'Tis true, the Original Proprietor of that Divine History has looked upon the Copy as an Estate and In­heritance. Much good may do him, with his Right and Title I▪ [...] [...]th a [...]ri [...]kum in Lege▪ such a fly dash of the [...]n▪ to do his Business for him, wh [...]st by an old [...]ur of a little new English put upon it, I'le trip up his heels for't as fair and honestly, as the best fair Full in a Lincolns-Inn Rounds.

I Here a Messenger to call Sir Rog. ever to the Marshalsea, broke off the Conference.