No More Learning

I hope I may, without
vanity, affirm to the world, that I never stood in need of borrowing
another man's reputation; and I have been as little guilty of the
injustice, of laying claim to any thing which was not my own. Nay, I
durst almost refer myself to some of the angry poets on the other
side, whether I have not rather countenanced and assisted their
beginnings, than hindered them from rising. [3] The two other falsities
are, the "ill success of the play," and "my disowning it. " The former
is manifestly without foundation; for it succeeded beyond my very
hopes, having been frequently acted, and never without a considerable
audience; and then it is a thousand to one, that, having no ground to
disown it, I did not disown it; but the universe to a nutshell that I
did not disown it for want of success, when it succeeded so much
beyond my expectation. But my malignant adversaries are the more
excusable for this coarse method of breaking in upon truth and good
manners, because it is the only way they have to gratify the genius
and the interest of the faction together; and never so much pains
taken neither, to so very, very little purpose. They decry the play,
but in such a manner, that it has the effect of a recommendation. They
call it "a dull entertainment;" and that is a dangerous word, I must
confess, from one of the greatest masters in human nature, of that
faculty. Now I can forgive them this reproach too, after all the rest;
for this play does openly discover the original and root of the
practices and principles, both of their party and cause; and they are
so well acquainted with all the trains and mazes of rebellion, that
there is nothing new to them in the whole history. Or what if it were
a little insipid, there was no conjuring that I remember in "Pope
Joan;" and the "Lancashire Witches" were without doubt the most
insipid jades that ever flew upon a stage; and even these, by the
favour of a party, made a shift to hold up their heads. [4] Now, if we
have out-done these plays in their own dull way, their authors have
some sort of privilege to throw the first stone; but we shall rather
chuse to yield the point of dulness, than contend for it, against so
indisputable a claim.

But "matters of state (it seems) are canvassed on the stage, and
things of the gravest concernment there managed;" and who were the
aggressors, I beseech you, but a few factious, popular hirelings, that
by tampering the theatres, and by poisoning the people, made a
play-house more seditious than a conventicle; so that the loyal party
crave only the same freedom of defending the government, which the
other took beforehand of exposing and defaming it. There was no
complaint of any disorders of the stage, in the bustle that was made
(even to the forming of a party) to uphold a farce of theirs. [5] Upon
the first day, the whole faction (in a manner) appeared; but after one
sight of it, they sent their proxies of serving-men and porters, to
clap in the right of their patrons; and it was impossible ever to have
gotten off the nonsense of three hours for half-a-crown, but for the
providence of so congruous an audience. Thus far, I presume, the
reckoning is even, for bad plays on both sides, and for plays written
for a party. I shall say nothing of their poets' affection to the
government; unless upon an absolute and an odious necessity. But to
return to the pretended Parallel.

I have said enough already to convince any man of common sense, that
there neither was, nor could be, any Parallel intended; and it will
farther appear, from the nature of the subject; there being no
relation betwixt Henry the Third and the Duke of Guise, except that of
the king's marrying into the family of Lorraine. If a comparison had
been designed, how easy had it been either to have found a story, or
to have invented one, where the ties of nature had been nearer? If we
consider their actions, or their persons, a much less proportion will
be yet found betwixt them; and if we bate the popularity, perhaps none
at all. If we consider them in reference to their parties, the one was
manifestly the leader; the other, at the worst, is but misled. The
designs of the one tended openly to usurpation; those of the other may
yet be interpreted more fairly; and I hope, from the natural candour
and probity of his temper, that it will come to a perfect submission
and reconcilement at last. But that which perfectly destroys this
pretended Parallel is, that our picture of the Duke of Guise is
exactly according to the original in the history; his actions, his
manners, nay, sometimes his very words, are so justly copied, that
whoever has read him in Davila, sees him the same here. There is no
going out of the way, no dash of a pen to make any by-feature resemble
him to any other man; and indeed, excepting his ambition, there was
not in France, or perhaps in any other country, any man of his age
vain enough to hope he could be mistaken for him. [6] So that if you
would have made a Parallel, we could not. And yet I fancy, that where
I make it my business to draw likeness, it will be no hard matter to
judge who sate for the picture. For the Duke of Guise's return to
Paris contrary to the king's order, enough already has been said; it
was too considerable in the story to be omitted, because it occasioned
the mischiefs that ensued. But in this likeness, which was only
casual, no danger followed. I am confident there was none intended;
and am satisfied that none was feared. But the argument drawn from our
evident design is yet, if possible, more convincing. The first words
of the prologue spake the play to be a Parallel, and then you are
immediately informed how far that Parallel extended, and of what it is
so: "The Holy League begot the Covenant, Guisards got the Whig, &c. "
So then it is not, (as the snarling authors of the Reflections tell
you) a Parallel of the men, but of the times; a Parallel of the
factions, and of the leaguers. And every one knows that this prologue
was written before the stopping of the play. Neither was the name
altered on any such account as they insinuate, but laid aside long
before, because a book called the Parallel had been printed,
resembling the French League to the English Covenant; and therefore we
thought it not convenient to make use of another man's title. [7] The
chief person in the tragedy, or he whose disasters are the subject of
it, may in reason give the name; and so it was called the "Duke of
Guise. " Our intention therefore was to make the play a Parallel
betwixt the Holy League, plotted by the house of Guise and its
adherents, with the Covenant plotted by the rebels in the time of king
Charles I. and those of the new Association, which was the spawn of
the old Covenant.

But this parallel is plain, that the exclusion of the lawful heir was
the main design of both parties; and that the endeavours to get the
lieutenancy of France established on the head of the League, is in
effect the same with offering to get the militia out of the king's
hand (as declared by parliament,) and consequently, that the power of
peace and war should be wholly in the people. It is also true that the
tumults in the city, in the choice of their officers, have had no
small resemblance with a Parisian rabble: and I am afraid that both
their faction and ours had the same good lord. I believe also, that if
Julian had been written and calculated for the Parisians, as it was
for our sectaries, one of their sheriffs might have mistaken too, and
called him Julian the Apostle. [8] I suppose I need not push this point
any further; where the parallel was intended, I am certain it will
reach; but a larger account of the proceedings in the city may be
expected from a better hand, and I have no reason to forestall it. [9]
In the mean time, because there has been no actual rebellion, the
faction triumph in their loyalty; which if it were out of principle,
all our divisions would soon be ended, and we the happy people, which
God and the constitution of our government have put us in condition to
be; but so long as they take it for a maxim, that the king is but an
officer in trust, that the people, or their representatives, are
superior to him, judges of miscarriages, and have power of revocation,
it is a plain case, that whenever they please they may take up arms;
and, according to their doctrine, lawfully too. Let them jointly
renounce this one opinion, as in conscience and law they are bound to
do, because both scripture and acts of parliament oblige them to it,
and we will then thank their obedience for our quiet, whereas now we
are only beholden to them for their fear. The miseries of the last war
are yet too fresh in all men's memory; and they are not rebels, only
because they have been so too lately. An author of theirs has told us
roundly the west-country proverb; _Chud eat more cheese, and chad it;_
their stomach is as good as ever it was; but the mischief on't is,
they are either muzzled, or want their teeth. If there were as many
fanatics now in England, as there were christians in the empire, when
Julian reigned, I doubt we should not find them much inclined to
passive obedience; and, "Curse ye Meroz"[10] would be oftener preached
upon, than "Give to Cæsar," except in the sense Mr Hunt means it.

Having clearly shewn wherein the parallel consisted, which no man can
mistake, who does not wilfully, I need not justify myself, in what
concerns the sacred person of his majesty. Neither the French history,
nor our own, could have supplied me, nor Plutarch himself, were he now
alive, could have found a Greek or Roman to have compared to him, in
that eminent virtue of his clemency; even his enemies must acknowledge
it to be superlative, because they live by it. Far be it from
flattery, if I say, that there is nothing under heaven, which can
furnish me with a parallel; and that, in his mercy, he is of all men
the truest image of his Maker.

Henry III. was a prince of a mixed character; he had, as an old
historian says of another, _magnas virtutes, nec minora vitia;_ but
amongst those virtues, I do not find his forgiving qualities to be
much celebrated. That he was deeply engaged in the bloody massacre of
St Bartholomew, is notoriously known; and if the relation printed in
the memoirs of Villeroy be true, he confesses there that the Admiral
having brought him and the queen-mother into suspicion with his
brother then reigning, for endeavouring to lessen his authority, and
draw it to themselves, he first designed his accuser's death by
Maurevel, who shot him with a carbine, but failed to kill him; after
which, he pushed on the king to that dreadful revenge, which
immediately succeeded. It is true, the provocations were high; there
had been reiterated rebellions, but a peace was now concluded; it was
solemnly sworn to by both parties, and as great an assurance of safety
given to the protestants, as the word of a king and public instruments
could make it. Therefore the punishment was execrable, and it pleased
God, (if we may dare to judge of his secret providence,) to cut off
that king in the very flower of his youth, to blast his successor in
his undertakings, to raise against him the Duke of Guise, the
complotter and executioner of that inhuman action, (who, by the divine
justice, fell afterwards into the same snare which he had laid for
others,) and, finally, to die a violent death himself, murdered by a
priest, an enthusiast of his own religion. [11] From these premises,
let it be concluded, if reasonably it can, that we could draw a
parallel, where the lines were so diametrically opposite. We were
indeed obliged, by the laws of poetry, to cast into shadows the vices
of this prince; for an excellent critic has lately told us, that when
a king is named, a hero is supposed;[12] it is a reverence due to
majesty, to make the virtues as conspicuous, and the vices as obscure,
as we can possibly; and this, we own, we have either performed, or at
least endeavoured. But if we were more favourable to that character
than the exactness of history would allow, we have been far from
diminishing a greater, by drawing it into comparison. You may see,
through the whole conduct of the play, a king naturally severe, and a
resolution carried on to revenge himself to the uttermost on the
rebellious conspirators. That this was sometimes shaken by reasons of
policy and pity, is confessed; but it always returned with greater
force, and ended at last in the ruin of his enemies. In the mean time
we cannot but observe the wonderful loyalty on the other side; that
the play was to be stopped, because the king was represented. May we
have many such proofs of their duty and respect! but there was no
occasion for them here. It is to be supposed, that his majesty himself
was made acquainted with this objection; if he were so, he was the
supreme and only judge of it; and then the event justifies us. If it
were inspected only by those whom he commanded, it is hard if his own
officers and servants should not see as much ill in it as other men,
and be as willing to prevent it; especially when there was no
solicitation used to have it acted. It is known that noble person,[13]
to whom it was referred, is a severe critic on good sense, decency,
and morality; and I can assure the world, that the rules of Horace are
more familiar to him, than they are to me. He remembers too well that
the _vetus comædia_ was banished from the Athenian theatre for its too
much licence in representing persons, and would never have pardoned it
in this or any play.

What opinion Henry III. had of his successor, is evident from the
words he spoke upon his deathbed: "he exhorted the nobility," says
Davila, "to acknowledge the king of Navarre, to whom the kingdom of
right belonged; and that they should not stick at the difference of
religion; for both the king of Navarre, a man of a sincere noble
nature, would in the end return into the bosom of the church, and the
pope, being better informed, would receive him into his favour, to
prevent the ruin of the whole kingdom. " I hope I shall not need in
this quotation to defend myself, as if it were my opinion, that the
pope has any right to dispose of kingdoms; my meaning is evident, that
the king's judgment of his brother-in-law, was the same which I have
copied; and I must farther add from Davila, that the arguments I have
used in defence of that succession were chiefly drawn from the king's
answer to the deputies, as they may be seen more at large in pages
730, and 731, of the first edition of that history in English. There
the three estates, to the wonder of all men, jointly concurred in
cutting off the succession; the clergy, who were managed by the
archbishop of Lyons and cardinal of Guise, were the first who promoted
it; and the commons and nobility afterwards consented, as referring
themselves, says our author, to the clergy; so that there was only the
king to stand in the gap; and he by artifice diverted that storm which
was breaking upon posterity.

The crown was then reduced to the lowest ebb of its authority; and the
king, in a manner, stood single, and yet preserved his negative
entire; but if the clergy and nobility had been on his part of the
balance, it might reasonably be supposed, that the meeting of those
estates at Blois had healed the breaches of the nation, and not forced
him to the _ratio ultima regum_, which is never to be praised, nor is
it here, but only excused as the last result of his necessity. As for
the parallel betwixt the king of Navarre, and any other prince now
living, what likeness the God of Nature, and the descent of virtues in
the same channel have produced, is evident; I have only to say, that
the nation certainly is happy, where the royal virtues of the
progenitors are derived on their descendants. [14]

In that scene, it is true, there is but one of the three estates
mentioned; but the other two are virtually included; for the
archbishop and cardinal are at the head of the deputies: And that the
rest are mute persons every critic understands the reason, _ne quarta
loqui persona laboret_. I am never willing to cumber the stage with
many speakers, when I can reasonably avoid it, as here I might. And
what if I had a mind to pass over the clergy and nobility of France in
silence, and to excuse them from joining in so illegal, and so ungodly
a decree? Am I tied in poetry to the strict rules of history? I have
followed it in this play more closely than suited with the laws of the
drama, and a great victory they will have, who shall discover to the
world this wonderful secret, that I have not observed the unities of
place and time; but are they better kept in the farce of the
"Libertine destroyed? "[15] It was our common business here to draw the
parallel of the times, and not to make an exact tragedy. For this once
we were resolved to err with honest Shakespeare; neither can
"Catiline" or "Sejanus," (written by the great master of our art,)
stand excused, any more than we, from this exception; but if we must
be criticised, some plays of our adversaries may be exposed, and let
them reckon their gains when the dispute is ended. I am accused of
ignorance, for speaking of the third estate, as not sitting in the
same house with the other two. Let not those gentlemen mistake
themselves; there are many things in plays to be accommodated to the
country in which we live; I spoke to the understanding of an English
audience. Our three estates now sit, and have long done so, in two
houses; but our records bear witness, that they, according to the
French custom, have sate in one; that is, the lords spiritual and
temporal within the bar, and the commons without it. If that custom
had been still continued here, it should have been so represented; but
being otherwise, I was forced to write so as to be understood by our
own countrymen. If these be errors, a bigger poet than either of us
two has fallen into greater, and the proofs are ready, whenever the
suit shall be recommenced.

Mr Hunt, the Jehu of the party, begins very furiously with me, and
says, "I have already condemned the charter and city, and have
executed the magistrates in effigy upon the stage, in a play called
the Duke of Guise, frequently acted and applauded, &c. [16]"

Compare the latter end of this sentence with what the two authors of
the Reflections, or perhaps the Associating Club of the
Devil-tavern[17] write in the beginning of their libel:--"Never was
mountain delivered of such a mouse; the fiercest Tories have been
ashamed to defend this piece; they who have any sparks of wit among
them are so true to their pleasure, that they will not suffer dulness
to pass upon them for wit, nor tediousness for diversion; which is the
reason that this piece has not met with the expected applause: I never
saw a play more deficient in wit, good characters, or entertainment,
than this is. "

For shame, gentlemen, pack your evidence a little better against
another time. You see, my lord chief baron[18] has delivered his
opinion, that the play was frequently acted and applauded; but you of
the jury have found _Ignoramus_, on the wit and the success of it.
Oates, Dugdale and Turberville, never disagreed more than you do; let
us know at last, which of the witnesses are true Protestants, and
which are Irish[19]. But it seems your authors had contrary designs:
Mr Hunt thought fit to say, "it was frequently acted and applauded,
because," says he, "it was intended to provoke the rabble into tumults
and disorder. " Now, if it were not seen frequently, this argument
would lose somewhat of its force. The Reflector's business went
another way; it was to be allowed no reputation, no success; but to be
damned root and branch, to prevent the prejudice it might do their
party: accordingly, as much as in them lay, they have drawn a bill of
exclusion for it on the stage. But what rabble was it to provoke? Are
the audience of a play-house, which are generally persons of honour,
noblemen, and ladies, or, at worst, as one of your authors calls his
gallants, men of wit and pleasure about the town[20],--are these the
rabble of Mr Hunt? I have seen a rabble at Sir Edmundbury Godfrey's
night, and have heard of such a name as true Protestant
meeting-houses; but a rabble is not to be provoked, where it never
comes. Indeed, we had one in this tragedy, but it was upon the stage;
and that's the reason why your Reflectors would break the glass, which
has shewed them their own faces. The business of the theatre is to
expose vice and folly; to dissuade men by examples from one, and to
shame them out of the other. And however you may pervert our good
intentions, it was here particularly to reduce men to loyalty, by
shewing the pernicious consequences of rebellion, and popular
insurrections. I believe no man, who loves the government, would be
glad to see the rabble in such a posture, as they were represented in
our play; but if the tragedy had ended on your side, the play had been
a loyal witty poem; the success of it should have been recorded by
immortal Og or Doeg[21], and the rabble scene should have been true
Protestant, though a whig-devil were at the head of it.

In the mean time, pray, where lies the relation betwixt the "Tragedy
of the Duke of Guise," and the charter of London? Mr Hunt has found a
rare connection, for he tacks them together, by the kicking of the
sheriff's. That chain of thought was a little ominous, for something
like a kicking has succeeded the printing of his book; and the charter
of London was the quarrel. For my part, I have not law enough to state
that question, much less decide it; let the charter shift for itself
in Westminster-hall the government is somewhat wiser than to employ my
ignorance on such a subject. My promise to honest Nat. Lee, was the
only bribe I had, to engage me in this trouble; for which he has the
good fortune to escape Scot-free, and I am left in pawn for the
reckoning, who had the least share in the entertainment. But the
rising, it seems, should have been on the true protestant side; "for
he has tried," says ingenious Mr Hunt, "what he could do, towards
making the charter forfeitable, by some extravagancy and disorder of
the people. " A wise man I had been, doubtless, for my pains, to raise
the rabble to a tumult, where I had been certainly one of the first
men whom they had limbed, or dragged to the next convenient sign-post.

But on second thought, he says, this ought not to move the citizens.
He is much in the right; for the rabble scene was written on purpose
to keep his party of them in the bounds of duty. It is the business of
factious men to stir up the populace: Sir Edmond on horseback,
attended by a swinging pope in effigy, and forty thousand true
protestants for his guard to execution, are a show more proper for
that design, than a thousand stage-plays[22].

Well, he has fortified his opinion with a reason, however, why the
people should not be moved; "because I have so maliciously and
mischievously represented the king, and the king's son; nay, and his
favourite," saith he, "the duke too; to whom I give the worst strokes
of my unlucky fancy. "

This need not be answered; for it is already manifest that neither the
king, nor the king's son, are represented; neither that son he means,
nor any of the rest, God bless them all. What strokes of my unlucky
fancy I have given to his royal highness, will be seen; and it will be
seen also, who strikes him worst and most unluckily.

"The Duke of Guise," he tells us, "ought to have represented a great
prince, that had inserved to some most detestable villainy, to please
the rage or lust of a tyrant; such great courtiers have been often
sacrificed, to appease the furies of the tyrant's guilty conscience;
to expiate for his sin, and to attone the people. For a tyrant
naturally stands in fear of such wicked ministers, is obnoxious to
them, awed by them, and they drag him to greater evils, for their own
impunity, than they perpetrated for his pleasure, and their own
ambition[23]. "

Sure, he said not all this for nothing. I would know of him, on what
persons he would fix the sting of this sharp satire? What two they
are, whom, to use his own words, he "so maliciously and mischievously
would represent? " For my part, I dare not understand the villainy of
his meaning; but somebody was to have been shown a tyrant, and some
other "a great prince, inserving to some detestable villainy, and to
that tyrant's rage and lust;" this great prince or courtier ought to
be sacrificed, to atone the people, and the tyrant is persuaded, for
his own interest, to give him up to public justice. I say no more, but
that he has studied the law to good purpose. He is dancing on the rope
without a metaphor; his knowledge of the law is the staff that poizes
him, and saves his neck. The party, indeed, speaks out sometimes, for
wickedness is not always so wise as to be secret, especially when it
is driven to despair. By some of their discourses, we may guess at
whom he points; but he has fenced himself in with so many evasions,
that he is safe in his sacrilege; and he, who dares to answer him, may
become obnoxious. It is true, he breaks a little out of the clouds,
within two paragraphs; for there he tells you, that "Caius Cæsar (to
give into Cæsar the things that were Cæsar's,) was in the catiline
conspiracy;" a fine insinuation this, to be sneered at by his party,
and yet not to be taken hold of by public justice. They would be glad
now, that I, or any man, should bolt out their covert treason for
them; for their loop-hole is ready, that the Cæsar, here spoken of,
was a private man. But the application of the text declares the
author's to be another Cæsar; which is so black and so infamous an
aspersion, that nothing less than the highest clemency can leave it
unpunished. I could reflect on his ignorance in this place, for
attributing these words to Cæsar, "He that is not with us, is against
us:" He seems to have mistaken them out of the New-Testament, and that
is the best defence I can make for him; for if he did it knowingly, it
was impiously done, to put our Saviour's words into Cæsar's mouth. But
his law and our gospel are two things; this gentleman's knowledge is
not of the bible, any more than his practice is according to it. He
tells you, he will give the world a taste of my atheism and impiety;
for which he quotes these following verses, in the second or third act
of the "Duke of Guise. "

For conscience or heaven's fear, religious rules,
Are all state bells, to toll in pious fools.

In the first place, he is mistaken in his man, for the verses are not
mine, but Mr Lee's: I asked him concerning them, and have this
account,--that they were spoken by the devil; now, what can either
whig or devil say, more proper to their character, than that religion
is only a name, a stalking-horse, as errant a property as godliness
and property themselves are amongst their party? Yet for these two
lines, which, in the mouth that speaks them, are of no offence, he
halloos on the whole pack against me: judge, justice, surrogate, and
official are to be employed, at his suit, to direct process; and
boring through the tongue for blasphemy, is the least punishment his
charity will allow me.

I find it is happy for me, that he was not made a judge, and yet I had
as lieve have him my judge as my council, if my life were at stake. My
poor Lord Stafford was well helped up with this gentleman for his
solicitor: no doubt, he gave that unfortunate nobleman most admirable
advice towards the saving of his life; and would have rejoiced
exeedingly, to have seen him cleared[24]. I think, I have disproved
his instance of my atheism; it remains for him to justify his
religion, in putting the words of Christ into a Heathen's mouth; and
much more in his prophane allusion to the scripture, in the other
text,--"Give unto Cæsar the things that are Cæsar's;" which, if it be
not a profanation of the bible, for the sake of a silly witticism, let
all men, but his own party, judge. I am not malicious enough to return
him the names which he has called me; but of all sins, I thank God, I
have always abhorred atheism; and I had need be a better Christian
than Mr Hunt has shown himself, if I forgive him so infamous a
slander.

But as he has mistaken our Saviour for Julius Cæsar, so he would
Pompey too, if he were let alone; to him, and to his cause, or to the
like cause it belonged, he says, to use these words:--"he that is not
for us is against us. " I find he cares not whose the expression is, so
it be not Christ's. But how comes Pompey the Great to be a whig? He
was, indeed, a defender of the ancient established Roman government;
but Cæsar was the whig who took up arms unlawfully to subvert it. Our
liberties and our religion both are safe; they are secured to us by
the laws; and those laws are executed under an established government,
by a lawful king. The Defender of our Faith is the defender of our
common freedom; to cabal, to write, to rail against this
administration are all endeavours to destroy the government; and to
oppose the succession, in any private man, is a treasonable practice
against the foundation of it. Pompey very honourably maintained the
liberty of his country, which was governed by a common-wealth: so that
there lies no parallel betwixt his cause and Mr Hunt's, except in the
bare notion of a common-wealth, as it is opposed to monarchy; and
that's the thing he would obliquely slur upon us. Yet on these
premises, he is for ordering my lord chief justice to grant out
warrants against all those who have applauded the "Duke of Guise;" as
if they committed a riot when they clapped. I suppose they paid for
their places, as well as he and his party did, who hissed. If he were
not half distracted, for not being lord chief baron, methinks he
should be lawyer enough to advise my lord chief justice better. To
clap and hiss are the privileges of a free-born subject in a
playhouse: they buy them with their money, and their hands and mouths
are their own property. It belongs to the Master of the Revels to see
that no treason or immorality be in the play; but when it is acted,
let every man like or dislike freely: not but that respect should be
used too, in the presence of the king; for by his permission the
actors are allowed: it is due to his person, as he is sacred; and to
the successors, as being next related to him: there are opportunities
enow for men to hiss, who are so disposed, in their absence; for when
the king is in sight, though but by accident, a malefactor is
reprieved from death. Yet such is the duty, and good manners of these
good subjects, that they forbore not some rudeness in his majesty's
presence; but when his Royal Highness and his court were only there,
they pushed it as far as their malice had power; and if their party
had been more numerous, the affront had been greater.

The next paragraph of our author's is a panegyric on the Duke of
Monmouth, which concerns not me, who am very far from detracting from
him. The obligations I have had to him, were those of his countenance,
his favour, his good word, and his esteem; all which I have likewise
had, in a greater measure, from his excellent duchess, the patroness
of my poor unworthy poetry. If I had not greater, the fault was never
in their want of goodness to me, but in my own backwardness to ask,
which has always, and, I believe, will ever, keep me from rising in
the world. Let this be enough, with reasonable men, to clear me from
the imputation of an ungrateful man, with which my enemies have most
unjustly taxed me. If I am a mercenary scribbler, the lords
commissioners of the treasury best know: I am sure, they have found me
no importunate solicitor; for I know myself, I deserved little, and,
therefore, have never desired much. I return that slander, with just
disdain, on my accusers: it is for men who have ill consciences to
suspect others; I am resolved to stand or fall with the cause of my
God, my king, and country; never to trouble myself for any railing
aspersions, which I have not deserved; and to leave it as a portion to
my children,--that they had a father, who durst do his duty, and was
neither covetous nor mercenary.

As little am I concerned at that imputation of my back-friends, that I
have confessed myself to be put on to write as I do. If they mean this
play in particular, that is notoriously proved against them to be
false; for the rest of my writings, my hatred of their practices and
principles was cause enough to expose them as I have done, and will do
more. I do not think as they do; for, if I did, I must think treason;
but I must in conscience write as I do, because I know, which is more
than thinking, that I write for a lawful established government,
against anarchy, innovation, and sedition: but "these lies (as prince
Harry said to Falstaff) are as gross as he that made them[25]. " More I
need not say, for I am accused without witness. I fear not any of
their evidences, not even him of Salamanca; who though he has disowned
his doctorship in Spain, yet there are some allow him to have taken a
certain degree in Italy; a climate, they say, more proper for his
masculine constitution[26]. To conclude this ridiculous accusation
against me, I know but four men, in their whole party, to whom I have
spoken for above this year last past; and with them neither, but
casually and cursorily. We have been acquaintance of a long standing,
many years before this accursed plot divided men into several parties;
I dare call them to witness, whether the most I have at any time said
will amount to more than this, that "I hoped the time would come, when
these names of whig and tory would cease among us; and that we might
live together, as we had done formerly. " I have, since this pamphlet,
met accidentally with two of them; and I am sure, they are so far from
being my accusers, that they have severally owned to me, that all men,
who espouse a party, must expect to be blackened by the contrary side;
that themselves knew nothing of it, nor of the authors of the
"Reflections. " It remains, therefore, to be considered, whether, if I
were as much a knave as they would make me, I am fool enough to be
guilty of this charge; and whether they, who raised it, would have
made it public, if they had thought I was theirs inwardly. For it is
plain, they are glad of worse scribblers than I am, and maintain them
too, as I could prove, if I envied them their miserable subsistence. I
say no more, but let my actions speak for me: _Spectemur
agendo,_--that is the trial.

Much less am I concerned at the noble name of Bayes; that is a brat so
like his own father, that he cannot be mistaken for any other
body[27]. They might as reasonably have called Tom Sternhold, Virgil,
and the resemblance would have held as well.

As for knave, and sycophant, and rascal, and impudent, and devil, and
old serpent, and a thousand such good morrows, I take them to be only
names of parties; and could return murderer, and cheat, and
whig-napper, and sodomite; and, in short, the goodly number of the
seven deadly sins, with all their kindred and relations, which are
names of parties too; but saints will be saints, in spite of villainy.
I believe they would pass themselves upon us for such a compound as
mithridate, or Venice-treacle; as if whiggism were an admirable
cordial in the mass, though the several ingredients are rank poisons.

But if I think either Mr Hunt a villain, or know any of my Reflectors
to be ungrateful rogues, I do not owe them so much kindness as to call
them so; for I am satisfied that to prove them either, would but
recommend them to their own party. Yet if some will needs make a merit
of their infamy, and provoke a legend of their sordid lives, I think
they must be gratified at last; and though I will not take the
scavenger's employment from him, yet I may be persuaded to point at
some men's doors, who have heaps of filth before them. But this must
be when they have a little angered me; for hitherto I am provoked no
further than to smile at them. And indeed, to look upon the whole
faction in a lump, never was a more pleasant sight than to behold
these builders of a new Babel, how ridiculously they are mixed, and
what a rare confusion there is amongst them. One part of them is
carrying stone and mortar for the building of a meeting-house; another
sort understand not that language; they are for snatching away their
work-fellows' materials to set up a bawdy-house: some of them
blaspheme, and others pray; and both, I believe, with equal godliness
at bottom: some of them are atheists, some sectaries, yet all true
protestants. Most of them love all whores, but her of Babylon. In few
words, any man may be what he will, so he be one of them. It is enough
to despise the King, to hate the Duke, and rail at the succession:
after this it is no matter how a man lives; he is a saint by
infection; he goes along with the party, has their mark upon him; his
wickedness is no more than frailty; their righteousness is imputed to
him: so that, as ignorant rogues go out doctors when a prince comes to
an university, they hope, at the last day, to take their degree in a
crowd of true protestants, and thrust unheeded into heaven[28].

It is a credit to be railed at by such men as these. The charter-man,
in the very title-page, where he hangs out the cloth of the city
before his book, gives it for his motto, _Si populus vult decipi,
decipiatur_[29]; as if he should have said, "you have a mind to be
cozened, and the devil give you good on't. " If I cry a sirreverence,
and you take it for honey, make the best of your bargain. For shame,
good Christians, can you suffer such a man to starve, when you see his
design is upon your purses? He is contented to expose the ears
representative of your party on the pillory, and is in a way of doing
you more service than a worn-out witness, who can hang nobody
hereafter but himself. He tells you, "The papists clap their hands, in
the hopes they conceive of the ruin of your government:" Does not this
single syllable _your_ deserve a pension, if he can prove the
government to be yours, and that the king has nothing to do in your
republic? He continues, as if that were as sure and certain to them,
as it is to us, without doubt, that they (the papists) once fired the
city, just as certain in your own consciences. I wish the papists had
no more to answer for than that accusation. Pray let it be put to the
vote, and resolved upon the question, by your whole party, that the
North-east wind is not only ill-affected to man and beast, but is also
a tory or tantivy papist in masquerade[30]. I am satisfied, not to
have "so much art left me, as to frame any thing agreeable, or
verisimilar;" but it is plain that he has, and therefore, as I ought
in justice, I resign my laurel, and my bays too, to Mr Hunt; it is he
sets up for the poet now, and has the only art to amuse and to deceive
the people. You may see how profound his knowledge is in poetry; for
he tells you just before, "that my heroes are commonly such monsters
as Theseus and Hercules; renowned throughout all ages for
destroying[31]. " Now Theseus and Hercules, you know, have been the
heroes of all poets, and have been renowned through all ages, for
destroying monsters, for succouring the distressed, and for putting to
death inhuman arbitrary tyrants. Is this your oracle? If he were to
write the acts and monuments of whig heroes, I find they should be
quite contrary to mine: Destroyers indeed,--but of a lawful
government; murderers,--but of their fellow-subjects; lovers, as
Hercules was of Hylas; with a journey at last to hell, like that of
Theseus.

But mark the wise consequences of our author. "I have not," he says,
"so much art left me to make any thing agreeable, or verisimilar,
wherewith to amuse or deceive the people. " And yet, in the very next
paragraph, "my province is to corrupt the manners of the nation, and
lay waste their morals, and my endeavours are more happily applied, to
extinguish the little remainders of the virtue of the age. " Now, I am
to perform all this, it seems, without making any thing verisimilar or
agreeable! Why, Pharaoh never set the Israelites such a task, to build
pyramids without brick or straw. If the fool knows it not,
verisimilitude and agreeableness are the very tools to do it; but I am
willing to disclaim them both, rather than to use them to so ill
purpose as he has done.

Yet even this their celebrated writer knows no more of stile and
English than the Northern dictator; as if dulness and clumsiness were
fatal to the name of _Tom_. It is true, he is a fool in three
languages more than the poet; for, they say, "he understands Latin,
Greek, and Hebrew," from all which, to my certain knowledge, I acquit
the other. Og may write against the king, if he pleases, so long as he
drinks for him, and his writings will never do the government so much
harm, as his drinking does it good; for true subjects will not be much
perverted by his libels; but the wine-duties rise considerably by his
claret.
He has often called me an atheist in print; I would believe
more charitably of him, and that he only goes the broad way, because
the other is too narrow for him. He may see, by this, I do not delight
to meddle with his course of life, and his immoralities, though I have
a long bead-roll of them. I have hitherto contented myself with the
ridiculous part of him, which is enough, in all conscience, to employ
one man; even without the story of his late fall at the Old Devil,
where he broke no ribs, because the hardness of the stairs could reach
no bones; and, for my part, I do not wonder how he came to fall, for I
have always known him heavy: the miracle is, how he got up again. I
have heard of a sea captain as fat as he, who, to escape arrests,
would lay himself flat upon the ground, and let the bailiffs carry him
to prison, if they could. If a messenger or two, nay, we may put in
three or four, should come, he has friendly advertisement how to
escape them. But to leave him, who is not worth any further
consideration, now I have done laughing at him,--would every man knew
his own talent, and that they, who are only born for drinking, would
let both poetry and prose alone[32]!

I am weary with tracing the absurdities and mistakes of our great
lawyer, some of which indeed are wilful; as where he calls the
_Trimmers_ the more moderate sort of tories. It seems those
politicians are odious to both sides; for neither own them to be
theirs. We know them, and so does he too in his conscience, to be
secret whigs, if they are any thing; but now the designs of whiggism
are openly discovered, they tack about to save a stake; that is, they
will not be villains to their own ruin. While the government was to be
destroyed, and there was probability of compassing it, no men were so
violent as they; but since their fortunes are in hazard by the law,
and their places at court by the king's displeasure, they pull in
their horns, and talk more peaceably; in order, I suppose, to their
vehemence on the right side, if they were to be believed. For in
laying of colours, they observe a medium; black and white are too far
distant to be placed directly by one another, without some shadowings
to soften their contrarieties. It is Mariana, I think, (but am not
certain) that makes the following relation; and let the noble family
of Trimmers read their own fortune in it. "Don Pedro, king of Castile,
surnamed the Cruel, who had been restored by the valour of our Edward
the Black Prince, was finally dispossessed by Don Henry, the bastard,
and he enjoyed the kingdom quietly, till his death; which when he felt
approaching, he called his son to him, and gave him this his last
counsel. I have (said he,) gained this kingdom, which I leave you, by
the sword; for the right of inheritance was in Don Pedro; but the
favour of the people, who hated my brother for his tyranny, was to me
instead of title. You are now to be the peaceable possessor of what I
have unjustly gotten; and your subjects are composed of these three
sorts of men. One party espoused my brother's quarrel, which was the
undoubted lawful cause; those, though they were my enemies, were men
of principle and honour: Cherish them, and exalt them into places of
trust about you, for in them you may confide safely, who prized their
fidelity above their fortune. Another sort, are they who fought my
cause against Don Pedro; to those you are indeed obliged, because of
the accidental good they did me; for they intended only their private
benefit, and helped to raise me, that I might afterwards promote them:
you may continue them in their offices, if you please; but trust them
no farther than you are forced; for what they did was against their
conscience. But there is a third sort, which, during the whole wars,
were neuters; let them be crushed on all occasions, for their business
was only their own security. They had neither courage enough to engage
on my side, nor conscience enough to help their lawful sovereign:
_Therefore let them be made examples, as the worst sort of interested
men, which certainly are enemies to both, and would be profitable to
neither. _"

I have only a dark remembrance of this story, and have not the Spanish
author by me, but, I think, I am not much mistaken in the main of it;
and whether true or false, the counsel given, I am sure, is such, as
ought, in common prudence, to be practised against Trimmers, whether
the lawful or unlawful cause prevail. Loyal men may justly be
displeased with this party, not for their moderation, as Mr Hunt
insinuates, but because, under that mask of seeming mildness, there
lies hidden either a deep treachery, or, at best, an interested
luke-warmness. But he runs riot into almost treasonable expressions,
as if "Trimmers were hated because they are not perfectly wicked, or
perfectly deceived; of the Catiline make, bold, and without
understanding; that can adhere to men that publicly profess murders,
and applaud the design:" by all which villainous names he
opprobriously calls his majesty's most loyal subjects; as if men must
be perfectly wicked, who endeavour to support a lawful government; or
perfectly deceived, who on no occasion dare take up arms against their
sovereign: as if acknowledging the right of succession, and resolving
to maintain it in the line, were to be in a Catiline conspiracy; and
at last, (which is ridiculous enough, after so much serious treason)
as if "to clap the Duke of Guise" were to adhere to men that publicly
profess murders, and applaud the design of the assassinating poets.

But together with his villainies, pray let his incoherences be
observed. He commends the Trimmers, (at least tacitly excuses them)
for men of some moderation; and this in opposition to the instruments
of wickedness of the Catiline make, that are resolute and forward, and
without consideration. But he forgets all this in the next twenty
lines; for there he gives them their own, and tells them roundly, _in
internecino bello, medii pro hostibus habentur. _ Neutral men are
traitors, and assist by their indifferency to the destruction of the
government. The plain English of his meaning is this; while matters
are only in dispute, and in machination, he is contented they should
be moderate; but when once the faction can bring about a civil war,
then they are traitors, if they declare not openly for them.

"But it is not," says he, "the Duke of Guise who is to be
assassinated, a turbulent, wicked, and haughty courtier, but an
innocent and gentle prince. " By his favour, our Duke of Guise was
neither innocent nor gentle, nor a prince of the blood royal, though
he pretended to descend from Charlemagne, and a genealogy was printed
to that purpose, for which the author was punished, as he deserved;
witness Davila, and the journals of Henry III. where the story is at
large related. Well, who is it then? why, "it is a prince who has no
fault, but that he is the king's son:" then he has no fault by
consequence; for I am certain, that is no fault of his. The rest of
the compliment is so silly, and so fulsome, as if he meant it all in
ridicule; and to conclude the jest, he says, that "the best people of
England have no other way left, to shew their loyalty to the king,
their religion and government, in long intervals of parliament, than
by prosecuting his son, for the sake of the king, and his own merit,
with all the demonstrations of the highest esteem. "

Yes, I can tell them one other way to express their loyalty, which is,
to obey the king, and to respect his brother, as the next lawful
successor; their religion commands them both, and the government is
secured in so doing. But why in intervals of parliament? How are they
more obliged to honour the king's son out of parliament, than in it?
And why this prosecution of love for the king's sake? Has he ordered
more love to be shewn to one son, than to another? Indeed, his own
quality is cause sufficient for all men to respect him, and I am of
their number, who truly honour him, and who wish him better than this
miserable sycophant; for I wish him, from his father's royal kindness,
what justice can make him, which is a greater honour than the rabble
can confer upon him.

But our author finds, that commendation is no more his talent, than
flattery was that of Æsop's ass; and therefore falls immediately, from
pawing with his fore-feet, and grinning upon one prince, to downright
braying against another.

He says, I have not used "my patron duke much better; for I have put
him under a most dismal and unfortunate character of a successor,
excluded from the crown by act of state, for his religion; who fought
his way to the crown, changed his religion, and died by the hand of a
Roman assassinate. "

If it please his Royal Highness to be my patron, I have reason to be
proud of it; because he never yet forsook any man, whom he has had the
goodness to own for his. But how have I put him under an unfortunate
character? the authors of the Reflections, and our John-a-Nokes, have
not laid their noddles together about this accusation. For it is their
business to prove the king of Navarre to have been a most successful,
magnanimous, gentle, and grateful prince; in which character they have
followed the stream of all historians. How then happens this jarring
amongst friends, that the same man is put under such dismal
circumstances on one side, and so fortunate on the other, by the
writers of the same party? The answer is very plain; that they take
the cause by several handles. They, who will not have the Duke
resemble the king of Navarre, have magnified the character of that
prince, to debase his Royal Highness; and therein done what they can
to shew the disparity. Mr Hunt, who will have it to be the Duke's
character, has blackened that king as much as he is able, to shew the
likeness. Now this would be ridiculous pleading at a bar, by lawyers
retained for the same cause; and both sides would call each other
fools, because the jury betwixt them would be confounded, and perhaps
the judges too.

But this it is to have a bad cause, which puts men of necessity upon
knavery; and that knavery is commonly found out. Well, Mr Hunt has in
another place confessed himself to be in passion, and that is the
reason he is so grosly mistaken in opening of the cause. For, first,
the king of Navarre was neither under dismal, nor unfortunate
circumstances: before the end of that very sentence, our lawyer has
confessed, that he fought his way to the crown; that is, he gloriously
vanquished all his rebels, and happily possessed his inheritance many
years after he had regained it. In the next place, he was never
excluded from the crown by act of state. He changed his religion
indeed, but not until he had almost weathered the storm, recovered the
best part of his estate, and gained some glorious victories in pitched
battles; so that his changing cannot without injustice be attributed
to his fear. Monsieur Chiverny, in his Memoirs of those times, plainly
tells us, that he solemnly promised to his predecessor Henry III. then
dying, that he would become a Romanist; and Davila, though he says not
this directly, yet denies it not. By whose hands Henry IV. died, is
notoriously known; but it is invidiously urged, both by Mr Hunt and
the Reflectors: for we may, to our shame, remember, that a king of our
own country was barbarously murdered by his subjects, who professed
the same religion; though I believe, that neither Jaques Clement, nor
Ravaillac, were better papists, than the independents and
presbyterians were protestants; so that their argument only proves,
that there are rogues of all religions: _Iliacos infra muros peccatur,
et extra. _ But Mr Hunt follows his blow again, that I have "offered a
justification of an act of exclusion against a popish successor in a
protestant kingdom, by remembering what was done against the king of
Navarre, who was _de facto_ excluded by an act of state. " My
gentleman, I perceive, is very willing to call that an act of
exclusion, and an act of state, which is only, in our language, called
a bill; for Henry III. could never be gained to pass it, though it was
proposed by the three estates at Blois. The Reflectors are more
modest; for they profess, (though I am afraid it is somewhat against
the grain,) that a vote of the House of Commons is not an act; but the
times are turned upon them, and they dare speak no other language. Mr
Hunt, indeed, is a bold republican, and tells you the bottom of their
meaning. Yet why should it make the "courage of his Royal Highness
quail, to find himself under this representation," which; by our
author's favour, is neither dismal, nor disastrous? Henry IV. escaped
this dreadful machine of the League; I say dreadful, for the three
estates were at that time composed generally of Guisards, factious,
hot-headed, rebellious interested men. The king in possession was but
his brother-in-law, and at the time publicly his enemy; for the king
of Navarre was then in arms against him; and yet the sense of common
justice, and the good of his people so prevailed, that he withstood
the project of the states, which he also knew was levelled at himself;
for had the exclusion proceeded, he had been immediately laid by, and
the lieutenancy of France conferred on Guise; after which the rebel
would certainly have put up his title for the crown. In the case of
his Royal Highness, only one of the three estates have offered at the
exclusion, and have been constantly opposed by the other two, and by
his majesty. Neither is it any way probable, that the like will ever
be again attempted; for the fatal consequences, as well as the
illegality of that design, are seen through already by the people; so
that, instead of offering a justification of an act of exclusion, I
have exposed a rebellious, impious, and fruitless contrivance tending
to it. If we look on the parliament of Paris, when they were in their
right wits, before they were intoxicated by the League, (at least
wholly) we shall find them addressing to king Henry III. in another
key, concerning the king of Navarre's succession, though he was at
that time, as they called it, a relapsed heretic. And to this purpose
I will quote a passage out of the journals of Henry III. so much
magnified by my adversaries.

Towards the end of September, 1585, there was published at Paris a
bull of excommunication against the king of Navarre, and the prince of
Condé. The parliament of Paris made their remonstrance to the king
upon it, which was both grave, and worthy of the place they held, and
of the authority they have in this kingdom; saying for conclusion,
that "their court had found the stile of this bull so full of
innovation, and so distant from the modesty of ancient Popes, that
they could not understand in it the voice of an Apostle's successor;
forasmuch, as they found not in their records, nor in the search of
all antiquity, that the princes of France had ever been subject to the
justice or jurisdiction of the Pope, and they could not take it into
consideration, until first he made appear the right which he pretended
in the translation of kingdoms, established and ordained by Almighty
God, before the name of Pope was heard of in the world. " It is plain
by this, that the parliament of Paris acknowledged an inherent right
of succession in the king of Navarre, though of a contrary religion to
their own. And though, after the duke of Guise's murder at Blois, the
city of Paris revolted from their obedience to their king, pretending,
that he was fallen from the crown, by reason of that and other
actions, with which they charged him; yet the sum of all their power
to renounce him, and create the duke of Mayenne lieutenant-general,
depended ultimately on the Pope's authority; which, as you see, but
three years before, they had peremptorily denied.

The college of Sorbonne began the dance, by their determination, that
the kingly right was forfeited; and, stripping him of all his
dignities, they called him plain Henry de Valois: after this, says my
author, "sixteen rascals (by which he means the council of that
number) having administered the oath of government to the duke of
Mayenne, to take in quality of lieutenant-general of the estate and
crown of France, the same ridiculous dignity was confirmed to him by
an imaginary parliament, the true parliament being detained prisoners,
in divers of the city gaols, and two new seals were ordered to be
immediately made, with this inscription,--the Seal of the Kingdom of
France. " I need not enlarge on this relation: it is evident from
hence, that the Sorbonnists were the original, and our Schismatics in
England were the copiers of rebellion; that Paris began, and London
followed.

The next lines of my author are, that "a gentleman of Paris made the
duke of Mayenne's picture to be drawn, with a crown imperial on his
head;" and I have heard of an English nobleman, who has at this day a
picture of old Oliver, with this motto underneath it,--_Utinam
vixeris. _ All this while, this cannot be reckoned an act of state, for
the deposing king Henry III. , because it was an act of overt rebellion
in the Parisians; neither could the holding of the three estates at
Paris, afterwards, by the same duke of Mayenne, devolve any right on
him, in prejudice of king Henry IV. ; though those pretended states
declared his title void, on the account of his religion; because those
estates could neither be called nor holden, but by, and under the
authority of, the lawful king. It would take more time than I have
allowed for this Vindication, or I could easily trace from the French
history, what misfortunes attended France, and how near it was to
ruin, by the endeavours to alter the succession. For first, it was
actually dismembered, the duke of Mercæur setting up a principality in
the dutchy of Bretagne, independent of the crown. The duke of Mayenne
had an evident design to be elected king, by the favour of the people
and the Pope: the young dukes of Guise and of Nemours aspired, with
the interest of the Spaniards, to be chosen, by their marriage with
the Infanta Isabella. The duke of Lorraine was for cantling out some
part of France, which lay next his territories; and the duke of Savoy
had, before the death of Henry III. , actually possessed himself of the
marquisate of Saluces. But above all, the Spaniards fomented these
civil wars, in hopes to reduce that flourishing kingdom under their
own monarchy. To as many, and as great mischiefs, should we be
evidently subject, if we should madly engage ourselves in the like
practices of altering the succession, which our gracious king in his
royal wisdom well foresaw, and has cut up that accursed project by the
roots; which will render the memory of his justice and prudence
immortal and sacred to future ages, for having not only preserved our
present quiet, but secured the peace of our posterity.

It is clearly manifest, that no act of state passed, to the exclusion
of either the King of Navarre, or of Henry the fourth, consider him in
either of the two circumstances; but Oracle Hunt, taking this for
granted, would prove _à fortiori_, "that if a protestant prince were
actually excluded from a popish kingdom, then a popish successor is
more reasonably to be excluded from a protestant kingdom; because,"
says he, "a protestant prince is under no obligation to destroy his
popish subjects, but a popish prince is to destroy his protestant
subjects:" Upon which bare supposition, without farther proof, he
calls him insufferable tyrant, and the worst of monsters.

Now, I take the matter quite otherwise, and bind myself to maintain
that there is not, nor can be any obligation, for a king to destroy
his subjects of a contrary persuasion to the established religion of
his country; for, _quatenus_ subjects, of what religion soever he is
infallibly bound to preserve and cherish, and not to destroy them; and
this is the first duty of a lawful sovereign, as such, antecedent to
any tie or consideration of his religion. Indeed, in those countries
where the Inquisition is introduced, it goes harder with protestants,
and the reason is manifest; because the protestant religion has not
gotten footing there, and severity is the means to keep it out; but to
make this instance reach England, our religion must not only be
changed, (which in itself is almost impossible to imagine,) but the
council of Trent received, and the Inquisition admitted, which many
popish countries have rejected. I forget not the cruelties, which were
exercised in Queen Mary's time against the protestants; neither do I
any way excuse them; but it follows not, that every popish successor
should take example by them, for every one's conscience of the same
religion is not guided by the same dictates in his government; neither
does it follow, that if one be cruel, another must, especially when
there is a stronger obligation, and greater interest to the contrary:
for, if a popish king in England should be bound to destroy his
protestant people, I would ask the question, over whom he meant to
reign afterwards? And how many subjects would be left?

In Queen Mary's time, the protestant religion had scarcely taken root;
and it is reasonable to be supposed, that she found the number of
papists equalling that of the protestants, at her entrance to the
kingdom; especially if we reckon into the account those who were the
Trimmers of the times; I mean such, who privately were papists, though
under her protestant predecessor they appeared otherwise; therefore
her difficulties in persecuting her reformed subjects, were far from
being so insuperable as ours now are, when the strength and number of
the papists is so very inconsiderable. They, who cast in the church of
England as ready to embrace popery, are either knaves enough to know
they lie, or fools enough not to have considered the tenets of that
church, which are diametrically opposite to popery; and more so than
any of the sects.

Not to insist on the quiet and security, which protestant subjects at
this day enjoy in some parts of Germany, under popish princes; where I
have been assured, that mass is said, and a Lutheran sermon preached
in different parts of the same church, on the same day, without
disturbance on either side; nor on the privileges granted by Henry the
fourth of France to his party, after he had forsaken their opinions,
which they quietly possessed for a long time after his death.

The French histories are full of examples, manifestly proving, that
the fiercest of their popish princes have not thought themselves bound
to destroy their protestant subjects; and the several edicts, granted
under them, in favour of the reformed religion, are pregnant instances
of this truth. I am not much given to quotations, but Davila lies open
for every man to read. Tolerations, and free exercise of religion,
granted more amply in some, more restrainedly in others, are no sign
that those princes held themselves obliged in conscience to destroy
men of a different persuasion. It will be said, those tolerations were
gained by force of arms. In the first place, it is no great credit to
the protestant religion, that the protestants in France were actually
rebels; but the truth is, they were only Geneva protestants, and their
opinions were far distant from those of the church of England, which
teaches passive obedience to all her sons, and not to propagate
religion by rebellion. But it is further to be considered, that those
French kings, though papists, thought the preservation of their
subjects, and the public peace, were to be considered, before the
gratification of the court of Rome; and though the number of the
papists exceeded that of the protestants, in the proportion of three
to one, though the protestants were always beaten when they fought,
and though the pope pressed continually with exhortations and
threatenings to extirpate Calvinism, yet kings thought it enough to
continue in their own religion themselves, without forcing it upon
their subjects, much less destroying them who professed another. But
it will be objected, those edicts of toleration were not kept on the
papists' side: they would answer, because the protestants stretched
their privileges further than was granted, and that they often
relapsed into rebellion; but whether or no the protestants were in
fault, I leave history to determine. It is matter of fact, that they
were barbarously massacred, under the protection of the public faith;
therefore, to argue fairly, either an oath from protestants is not to
be taken by a popish prince; or, if taken, ought inviolably to be
preserved. For, when we oblige ourselves to any one, it is not his
person we so much consider, as that of the Most High God, who is
called to witness this our action; and it is to Him we are to
discharge our conscience. Neither is there, or can be any tie on human
society, when that of an oath is no more regarded; which being an
appeal to God, He is immediate judge of it; and chronicles are not
silent how often He has punished perjured kings. The instance of
Vladislaus King of Hungary, breaking his faith with Amurath the Turk,
at the instigation of Julian the Pope's legate, and his miserable
death ensuing it, shews that even to infidels, much more to
Christians, that obligation ought to be accounted sacred[33]. And I
the rather urge this, because it is an argument taken almost
_verbatim_ from a papist, who accuses Catharine de Medicis for
violating her word given to the protestants during her regency of
France. What securities in particular we have, that our own religion
and liberties would be preserved though under a popish successor, any
one may inform himself at large in a book lately written by the
reverend and learned doctor Hicks, called Jovian, in answer to Julian
the Apostate[34]; in which that truly Christian author has satisfied
all scruples which reasonable men can make, and proved that we are in
no danger of losing either; and wherein also, if those assurances
should all fail, (which is almost morally impossible,) the doctrine of
passive obedience is unanswerably demonstrated; a doctrine delivered
with so much sincerity, and resignation of spirit, that it seems
evident the assertor of it is ready, if there were occasion, to seal
it with his blood.

I have done with mannerly Mr Hunt, who is only _magni nominis umbra_;
the most malicious, and withal, the most incoherent ignorant scribbler
of the whole party. I insult not over his misfortunes, though he has
himself occasioned them; and though I will not take his own excuse,
that he is in passion, I will make a better for him, for I conclude
him cracked; and if he should return to England, am charitable enough
to wish his only prison might be Bedlam. This apology is truer than
that he makes for me; for writing a play, as I conceive, is not
entering into the Observator's province; neither is it the
Observator's manner to confound truth with falsehood, to put out the
eyes of people, and leave them without understanding. The quarrel of
the party to him is, that he has undeceived the ignorant, and laid
open the shameful contrivances of the new vamped Association; that
though he is "on the wrong side of life," as he calls it, yet he
pleads not his age to be _emeritus_; that, in short, he has left the
faction as bare of arguments, as Æsop's bird of feathers; and plumed
them of all those fallacies and evasions which they borrowed from
jesuits and presbyterians.

Now for my templar and poet in association for a libel, like the
conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter in a fiery sign. What the one wants
in wit, the other must supply in law. As for malice, their quotas are
indifferently well adjusted; the rough draught, I take for granted, is
the poet's, the finishings the lawyer's. They begin,--that in order to
one Mr Friend's commands, one of them went to see the play. This was
not the poet, I am certain; for nobody saw him there, and he is not of
a size to be concealed. But the mountain, they say, was delivered of a
mouse. I have been gossip to many such labours of a dull fat
scribbler, where the mountain has been bigger, and the mouse less. The
next sally is on the city-elections, and a charge is brought against
my lord mayor, and the two sheriffs, for excluding true electors. I
have heard, that a Whig gentleman of the Temple hired a livery-gown,
to give his voice among the companies at Guild-hall; let the question
be put, whether or no he were a true elector? --Then their own juries
are commended from several topics; they are the wisest, richest, and
most conscientious: to which is answered, _ignoramus_. But our juries
give most prodigious and unheard-of damages. Hitherto there is nothing
but boys-play in our authors: _My mill grinds pepper and spice, your
mill grinds rats and mice. _ They go on,--"if I may be allowed to
judge;" (as men that do not poetize may be judges of wit, human
nature, and common decencies;) so then the sentence is begun with _I_;
there is but one of them puts in for a judge's place, that is, he in
the grey; but presently it is--_men_; two more in buckram would be
judges too. Neither of them, it seems, poetize; that is true, but both
of them are in at rhime doggrel; witness the song against the bishops,
and the Tunbridge ballad[35]. By the way, I find all my scribbling
enemies have a mind to be judges, and chief barons. Proceed,
gentlemen:--"This play, as I am informed by some, who have a nearer
communication with the poets and the players, than I have,--". Which
of the two Sosias is it that now speaks? If the lawyer, it is true he
has but little communication with the players; if the poet, the
players have but little communication with him; for it is not long
ago, he said to somebody, "By G----, my lord, those Tory rogues will
act none of my plays. " Well, but the accusation,--that this play was
once written by another, and then it was called the "Parisian
Massacre. " Such a play I have heard indeed was written; but I never
saw it[36]. Whether this be any of it or no, I can say no more than
for my own part of it. But pray, who denies the unparalleled villainy
of the papists in that bloody massacre? I have enquired, why it was
not acted, and heard it was stopt by the interposition of an
ambassador, who was willing to save the credit of his country, and not
to have the memory of an action so barbarous revived; but that I
tempted my friend to alter it, is a notorious whiggism, to save the
broader word. The "Sicilian Vespers" I have had plotted by me above
these seven years: the story of it I found under borrowed names in
Giraldo Cinthio; but the rape in my tragedy of "Amboyna" was so like
it, that I forbore the writing. But what had this to do with
protestants? For the massacrers and the massacred were all papists.

But it is observable, they say, that "though the massacre could not be
acted, as it was first written against papists, yet when it was turned
upon protestants, it found reception. "

Now all is come out; the scandal of the story turns at last upon the
government: that patronizes popish plays, and forbids protestant[37].
Ours is to be a popish play; why? Because it exposes the villainy of
sectaries and rebels. Prove them first to be protestants, and see what
you will get by it when you have done. Your party are certainly the
men whom the play attacks, and so far I will help you; the designs and
actions, represented in the play, are such as you have copied from the
League; for though you have wickedness enough, yet you wanted the wit
to make a new contrivance. But for shame, while you are carrying on
such palpable villainy, do not assume the name of protestants. You
will tell us, you are friends to the government, and the king's best
subjects; but all the while you are aspersing both it and him. Who
shall be judges, whether you are friends or not? The government or
you? Have not all rebels always sung the same song? Was ever thief or
murderer fool enough to plead guilty? For your love and loyalty to the
king, they, who mean him best among you, are no better subjects than
Duke Trinculo; they would be content he should be viceroy, so they may
be viceroys over him[38].

The next accusation is particular to me,--"that I, the said Bayes,
would falsely and feloniously have robbed Nat. Lee of his share in the
representation of OEdipus. " Now I am culprit; I writ the first and
third acts of OEdipus, and drew the scenery of the whole play:
whenever I have owned a farther proportion, let my accusers speak:
this was meant mischievously, to set us two at variance. Who is the
old serpent and Satan now? When my friends help my barren fancy, I am
thankful for it: I do not use to receive assistance, and afterwards
ungratefully disown it.

Not long after, "exemplary punishment" is due to me for this most
"devilish parallel. " It is a devilish one indeed; but who can help it?
If I draw devils like one another, the fault is in themselves for
being so: I neither made their horns nor claws, nor cloven feet. I
know not what I should have done, unless I had drawn the devil a
handsome proper gentleman, like the painter in the fable, to have made
a friend of him[39]; but I ought to be exemplarily punished for it:
when the devil gets uppermost, I shall expect it. "In the mean time,
let magistrates (that respect their oaths and office)"--which words,
you see, are put into a parenthesis, as if (God help us) we had none
such now,--let them put the law in execution against lewd scribblers;
the mark will be too fair upon a pillory, for a turnip or a rotten egg
to miss it. But, for my part, I have not malice enough to wish him so
much harm,--not so much as to have a hair of his head perish, much
less that one whole side of it should be dismantled. I am no informer,
who writ such a song, or such a libel; if the dulness betrays him not,
he is safe for me. And may the same dulness preserve him ever from
public justice; it is a sufficient thick mud-wall betwixt him and law;
it is his guardian angel, that protects him from punishment, because,
in spite of him, he cannot deserve it. It is that which preserves him
innocent when he means most mischief, and makes him a saint when he
intends to be a devil. He can never offend enough, to need the mercy
of government, for it is beholden to him, that he writes against it;
and he never offers at a satire, but he converts his readers to a
contrary opinion.

Some of the succeeding paragraphs are intended for very Ciceronian:
there the lawyer flourishes in the pulpit, and the poet stands in
socks among the crowd to hear him. Now for narration, resolution,
calumniation, aggravation, and the whole artillery of tropes and
figures, to defend the proceedings at Guild-hall. The most minute
circumstances of the elections are described so lively, that a man,
who had not heard he was there in a livery-gown, might suspect there
was a _quorum pars magna fui_ in the case; and multitudes of electors,
just as well qualified as himself, might give their party the greater
number: but throw back their gilt shillings, which were told for
guineas, and their true sum was considerably less. Well, there was no
rebellion at this time; therefore, says my adversary, there was no
parallel. It is true there was no rebellion; but who ever told him
that I intended this parallel so far? if the likeness had been
throughout, I may guess, by their good will to me, that I had never
lived to write it. But, to show his mistake, which I believe wilful,
the play was wholly written a month or two before the last election of
the sheriffs. Yet it seems there was some kind of prophecy in the
case; and, till the faction gets clear of a riot, a part of the
comparison will hold even there; yet, if he pleases to remember, there
has been a king of England forced by the inhabitants from his imperial
town. It is true, the son has had better fortune than the father; but
the reason is, that he has now a stronger party in the city than his
enemies; the government of it is secured in loyal and prudent hands,
and the party is too weak to push their designs farther. "They rescued
not their beloved sheriffs at a time (he tells you) when they had a
most important use of them. " What the importancy of the occasion was,
I will not search: it is well if their own consciences will acquit
them. But let them be never so much beloved, their adherents knew it
was a lawful authority that sent them to the Tower; and an authority
which, to their sorrow, they were not able to resist: so that, if four
men guarded them without disturbance, and, to the contempt of their
strength, at broad noon-day and at full exchange-time, it was no more
their honesty to stand looking on with their hands in their pockets,
than it is of a small band of robbers to let a caravan go by, which is
too strong for them to assault.

After this, I am called, after the old rate, loose and infamous
scribbler; and it is well I escape so cheap. Bear your good fortune
moderately, Mr Poet; for, as loose and infamous as I am, if I had
written for your party, your pension would have been cut off as
useless. But they must take up with Settle, and such as they can get:
Bartholomew-fair writers[40], and Bartholemew-close printers; there is
a famine of wit amongst them, they are forced to give unconscionable
rates, and, after all, to have only carrion for their money.

Then, I am "an ignorant fellow for not knowing there were no juries in
Paris. " I do not remember to have written any such thing; but whoever
did, I am confident it was not his ignorance. Perhaps he had a mind to
bring the case a little nearer home: If they had not juries in Paris,
we had them from the Normans, who were Frenchmen; and, as you managed
them, we had as good have had none in London. Let it satisfy you we
have them now; and some of your loose and infamous scribblers may come
to understand it a little better.

The next is, the justification of a noble peer deceased; the case is
known, and I have no quarrel to his memory: let it sleep; he is now
before another judge. Immediately after, I am said to have intended an
"abuse to the House of Commons;" which is called by our authors "the
most august assembly of Europe. " They are to prove I have abused that
House; but it is manifest they have lessened the House of Lords, by
owning the Commons to be the "more august assembly. "--"It is an House
chosen (they say) by every protestant who has a considerable
inheritance in England;" which word _considerable_ signifies forty
shillings _per annum_ of free land. For the interest of the loyal
party, so much under-valued by our authors, they have long ago
confessed in print, that the nobility and gentry have disowned them;
and the yeomanry have at last considered, _queis hæc consevimus arva_?
They have had enough of unlawful and arbitrary power; and know what an
august assembly they had once without a King and House of Peers.

But now they have me in a burning scent, and run after me full cry:
"Was ever such licence connived at, in an impious libeller and
scribbler, that the succession, so solemn a matter, that is not fit to
be debated of but in parliament, should be profaned so far as to be
played with on the stage? "

Hold a little, gentlemen, hold a little; (as one of your fellow
citizens says in "The Duke of Guise,") is it so unlawful for me to
argue for the succession in the right line upon the stage; and is it
so very lawful for Mr Hunt, and the scribblers of your party, to
oppose it in their libels off the stage? Is it so sacred, that a
parliament only is suffered to debate it, and dare you run it down
both in your discourses, and pamphlets out of parliament? In
conscience, what can you urge against me, which I cannot return an
hundred times heavier on you? And by the way, you tell me, that to
affirm the contrary to this, is a _præmunire_ against the statute of
the 13th of Elizabeth. If such _præmunire_ be, pray, answer me, who
has most incurred it?