But I shall confine myself, at present, to his last paper.  He tells us, “The Queen began her reign with a noble benefaction to the Church.”  Here’s priestcraft with a witness; this is the constant language of your highfliers, to call those who are hired to teach the religion of the magistrate by the name of the Church.[6] But this is not all; for, in the very next line he says, “It was hoped the nation would have followed this example.”  You see the faction begins already to speak out; this is an open demand for the abbey-lands; this furious zealot would have us priest-ridden again, like our popish ancestors:  but, it is to be hoped the government will take timely care to suppress such audacious attempts, else we have spent so much blood and treasure to very little purpose, in maintaining religion and Revolution.  But what can we expect from a man, who at one blow endeavours to ruin our trade?  “A country” (says he) “may flourish” (these are his own words) “without being the common receptacle for all nations, religions, and languages.”  What!  We must immediately banish or murder the Palatines; forbid all foreign merchants, not only the Exchange, but the kingdom; persecute the Dissenters with fire and faggot, and make it high-treason to speak any other tongue but English.  In another place he talks of a “serpent with seven heads,” which is a manifest corruption of the text; for the words “seven heads” are not mentioned in that verse.[7] However, we know what serpent he would mean; a serpent with fourteen legs; or, indeed, no serpent at all, but seven great men, who were the best ministers, the truest Protestants, and the most disinterested patriots that ever served a prince.[8] But nothing is so inconsistent as this writer; I know not whether to call him a Whig or a Tory, a Protestant or a Papist; he finds fault with convocations; says, “they are assemblies strangely contrived;” and yet lays the fault upon us, that we bound their hands:  I wish we could have bound their tongues too; but as fast as their hands were bound, they could make a shift to hold their pens, and have their share in the guilt of ruining the hopefullest party and ministry that ever prescribed to a crown.  This captious gentleman is angry to “see a majority of prelates cried up by those who are enemies to the character”; now I always thought, that the concessions of enemies were more to a man’s advantage than the praise of his friends.  “Time and mortality,” he says, “can only remedy these inconveniencies in the Church.”  That is, in other words, when certain bishops are dead, we shall have others of our own stamp.  Not so fast; you are not yet so sure of your game.  We have already got one comfortable loss in Spain, though by a G[enera]l of our own.[9] For joy of which, our J[un]to had a merry meeting at the house of their great proselyte, on the very day we received the happy news.  One or two more such blows would, perhaps, set us right again, and then we can employ “mortality” as well as others.  He concludes with wishing, that “three letters, spoke when the prolocutor was presented, were made public.”  I suppose he would be content with one, and that is more than we shall humour him to grant.  However, I hope he will allow it possible to have grace, without either eloquence or Latin, which is all I shall say to his malicious innuendo.