wou’d have thought Charitably of ’em.  Well, but huge Rampant Whores they must be with him tho, and through that very mouth that simper’d and primm’d before, as if such a filthy word cou’d not possibly break through:  It comes out now in sound and emphasis, and the modest Pen is as prone and ready to write it.  So that I once more affirm, that if it were not done in respect to his Lady, who, no doubt, peruses him extreamly, it must naturally be the effect of Hypcrisie, for, to be squeamish in one place and not in another is Ridiculous, especially when one word is Innocent in its kind, and makes the sense, and the other when us’d makes it wretched Affectation, and almost Nonsence.

Now if the Absolver thought Affectation would appear a vertue in him, he ought to have squeamifyed the before-mention’d Ladies with some title that was new, and if Smutt was chosen to be his fine darling word (and the course one of Whores slipt out of his Mouth, or from his Pen, by misfortune or chance) he should, in my opinion, have given ’em the title of Smutters:  a primming neat word extremely proper for the occasion:  And I hope I shall live to see the Master of Art have Modesty enough to thank me for’t; or else (for my fancy wou’d fain oblige him if it cou’d) to make it yet more German to the matter, as Shakespear has it, to call em Colliers would be as significant as any thing; for there’s allusion enough to Smutt, or the Devil’s in’t:  For, to deal sincerely, and without Hypocrisie, I cannot imagine what this learned Gentleman can mean by all that Smutt, Smutt, when the other word is as decent and more significant, unless he banters, or dissembles, or fear’d the Ladies peeping, or is so full of his own name, that he goes along quibbling upon’t through his Book, with design that way to make himself more famous.

In another part of his Treatise too I fancy I find the Hypocrite a great deal more than the Moralist, and that is, in his kecking at a word in one place, and gobbling it up in another.  To prove this, I find him very like a Ghostly Father of the old Roman Kidney, condemning even to the Inquisition:  One Carlos in Mr Dryden’s Love Triumphant, for blundring out this horrible Expression, as he calls it, Nature has given me my portion of Sense, with a Pox to her. [Footnote:  Collier, p. 82.] Now pray observe, the Absolvers Stomach is so horribly squeamish, at this he belches, turns pale, and is so very sick, that a quartern of Cherry is administered in vain, to set him to rights; he prints instead of the word only a great P——­ and tells the gentle Reader, (that he is intending to lead by the Nose) that the Hellish syllable may be found there at length if he pleases.  Would not any one think now, that did not know that the Small Pox is a common Disease, that this word had been Blasphemy in the extremity, the renouncing the Deity, or something