he roof
of Hell, are too strong for anything to crumble them." Whereupon, Death,
considerably startled, called to one of his train, to write for him the
following answer.

"_Death_, _the king of Terror and Conqueror of conquerors_, _to his
revered friend and neighbour Lucifer_, _king of Eternal Night_,
_sovereign of the Bottomless Pool_, _sends greeting_.

"After due reflection on your regal desire, it has appeared to us more
advantageous, not only to our own dominion, but likewise to your own
extensive kingdom, to send these prisoners, as far as possible from
the doors of the irrepassable wall, lest their putrid odour should
terrify the whole city of Destruction, so that no man should come to
all eternity, to my side of the gate; and neither I obtain any thing
to cool my sting, nor you a concourse of customers from earth to hell.
Therefore I will leave to you to judge them, and to hurl them into
such cells, as you may deem the most proper and secure for them.

"_From my nether palace in the great gate of Perdition_, _over
Destruction_. _In the year_, _from the renewal of my kingdom_, 1670."

At hearing all this, I felt a great curiosity to know who these seven
people could be, whom the devils themselves held in so much dread. But
ere a minute had elapsed, the clerk of the crown called their names, as
follows:--Master Meddler, alias _Finger in Every Dish_; but he was so
vehement and busy in advising the others, that he could not get a
moment's time to answer for himself, until Death threatened to transfix
him with his dart.

Then _master Slanderer_ was called, alias _Enemy of Fair Fame_; but there
was no answer. "He is too modest to hear his titles," said the third,
"and he never can bear his nicknames." "Do you suppose," said the
_Slanderer_, "that you yourself have no _titles_. Call for," said he,
"_master Coxcomb_, alias _Smooth Gullet_, alias _Poison Smile_." "Ready,"
said a woman who was there, pointing to the Coxcomb. "O," said he,
"_madam Bouncer_! Your humble servant, I am overjoyed at seeing you
well. I have never seen a woman look handsomer in breeches. But, oh! to
think how miserable the country must be behind you, for want of its
admirable she-governor; yet your delightful company will make hell itself
something better." "O son of the arch fiend!" said she. "With you there
is no need of another hell, you are yourself enough." Then the cryer
called