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.