First, I would advise him, if it be not too late in his life, to endeavour a little at mending his style, which is mighty defective in the circumstances of grammar, propriety, politeness, and smoothness;[62] I fancied at first, it might be owing to the prevalence of his passion, as people sputter out nonsense for haste when they are in a rage.  And indeed I believe this piece before me has received some additional imperfections from that occasion.  But whoever has heard his sermons, or read his other tracts, will find him very unhappy in his choice and disposition of his words, and, for want of variety, repeating them, especially the particles, in a manner very grating to an English ear.  But I confine myself to this Introduction, as his last work, where endeavouring at rhetorical flowers, he gives us only bunches of thistles; of which I could present the reader with a plentiful crop; but I refer him to every page and line of the pamphlet itself.

[Footnote 62:  In Swift’s notes on Burnet’s “History of his Own Times,” he points out many instances of the deficiency here stated. [S.]]

Secondly, I would most humbly advise his Lordship to examine a little into the nature of truth, and sometimes to hear what she says.  I shall produce two instances among a hundred.  When he asserts that we are “now in more danger of Popery than toward the end of King Charles II.’s reign,” and gives the broadest hints, that the Queen, the ministry, the parliament, and the clergy, are just going to introduce it; I desire to know, whether he really thinks truth is of his side, or whether he be not sure she is against him?  If the latter, then truth and he will be found in two different stories; and which are we to believe?  Again, when he gravely advises the clergy and laity of the Tory side, not to “light the fires in Smithfield,” and goes on in twenty places already quoted, as if the bargain was made for Popery and slavery to enter:  I ask again, whether he has rightly considered the nature of truth?  I desire to put a parallel case.  Suppose his Lordship should take it into his fancy to write and publish a letter to any gentleman of no infamous character for his religion or morals; and there advise him with great earnestness, not to rob or fire churches, ravish his daughter, or murder his father; show him the sin and the danger of these enormities, that if he flattered himself, he could escape in disguise, or bribe his jury, he was grievously mistaken:  That he must in all probability forfeit his goods and chattels, die an ignominious death, and be cursed by posterity; Would not such a gentleman justly think himself highly injured, though his Lordship did not affirm that the said gentleman had his picklocks or combustibles ready, that he had attempted his daughter, and drawn his sword against his father in order to stab him?  Whereas, in the other case, this writer affirms over and over, that all attempts for introducing Popery and slavery are already made, the whole business concerted, and that little less than a miracle can prevent our ruin.