esses, miscarries with you, a PROTESTANT
PLOT without either Witness or Circumstance at all, goes currant. Nay
you are so far now from your former niceties and scruples, and disparing
about raising of Armies, and not one Commission found, that you can
swallow the raising of a whole Protestant ARMY, without either
Commission, or Commission-Officer; Nay, the very When, Where, and How,
are no part of your Consideration. 'Tis true, the great Cry amongst you,
is, The Nations Eyes are open'd; but I am afraid, in most of you, 'tis
onely to look where you like best: and to help your lewd Eye-sight, you
have got a damnable trick of turning the Perspective upon occasion, and
magnifying or diminishing at pleasure. But alas, all talking to you is
but impertinent, and fending and proving signifie just nothing; for
after all Arguments, both Parties are so irreconcileable, that as the
Author of _Absolom_ wisely observed, they'll be Fools or Knaves to each
other to the end of the Chapter. And therefore I am so reasonable in
this point, that should be very glad to divide 'em between 'em, and give
the Fool to the _Tory_, and the Knave to the _Whigg_. For the _Tories_
that will believe no POPISH PLOT, may as justly come under that
denomination, as They, that _David_ tells us, _said in their Hearts
there was no God_. And then let the _Whiggs_ that do believe a _Popish
Plot_ be the Knaves, for daring to endeavour to hinder the Effects of a
_Popish Plot_, when the _Tories_ are resolved to the contrary. But to
draw near a conclusion, I have one favour more to beg of you, that
you'll give me the freedom of clapping but about a score of years
extraordinary on the back of my _Absolom_. Neither is it altogether so
unpardonable a Poetical License, since we find as great slips from the
Author of your own _Absolom_, where we see him bring in a _Zimri_ into
the Court of _David_, who in the Scripture-story dyed by the Hand of
_Phineas_ in the days of _Moses_. Nay, in the other extream, we find him
in another place talking of the Martyrdome of _Stephen_, so many Ages
after. And if so famous an Author can forget his own Rules of Unity,
Time, and Place, I hope you'll give a Minor Poet some grains of
Allowance, and he shall ever acknowledge himself

Your Humble Servant.

Absalom Senior:

or,

ACHITOPHEL TRANSPROS'D.

In Gloomy Times, when Priestcraft bore the sway,
And made Heav'ns Gate a