AN Ignoramus Doctor is a certain Duncical Dolt, who is as much a Doctor, as Osborn's ragged Colt was a Sturgeon. Hang him out, and he may indeed serve for the Sign of one, but has really no more Right to the Habit, than an Algerine to wear Christian Colours: Let's strip therefore his Gown over his Ears, and 'twill quickly appear, what a Monstrous REPRESENTATIVE Beast he is. To begin then with his Noddle; as Dull and Blockish it is as the Beetle's. In his Brazen Forehead is writ ABOMINATION. His Fyes are Murdering as the Basilisk's; tho' Blindish too as the Batt's. With his Screech-Owl's Voice, he bodes Death and Destruction. His Tongue, like the Serpent's, is Forked and Double. His Mouth, with that of the Revelation-Beast, speaks Lies and Blasphemies, and out of it issues Wild-fire, in which (tho' others are consum'd) the Salamander-Fiend himself, subsists. His Throat is an open Sepulchre, and no Camel was ever so big as to choak him. Like the Fabulous Minotaur, he really lives upon Humane Entrails, and is fed with the Quarters of Sacrific'd Men, and glutted with their Bloud, the Unchristen'd Canibal looks Flush and Ruddy. No Morsel is so Hard and Bloudy, but his Ostrich-Stomack can digest it: but to sweeten the Stench of his Carrion-breath, the Savage for Dessert chews Tobacco, and that, 'till it runs out of his Chaps again like Juice of Toad. With the Egyptian Frogs and Lice, he infests the Royal Palace, creeps into the King's Chambers, and like the Locust and Caterpillar devours his Bread; with which being Farting-full, the Harpy defiles and squirts upon the very Table that feeds him, and as the starving Snake reviv'd, thrusts out his Sting at all that ever reliev'd him. Yet the Slave, when Hungry, is, as the Dog, I awning and Couchant: When in the least Danger, Timorous, as the Rat; but guarded by his Whifflers the Rabble, as Bold as the Polecat. Lo! some of the Ingredients that go to the Compounding of this Non-such-Sham-Doctor, this Hotch-pot of an Animal, which consider'd asunder are not only the Worst that can be, but in Him the Worst put together: for Review him as he is an Individuum, you will find him the Only One of a strange Species never heard of before, for certainly nothing that ever yet breathed is like him.

The Monster was begot (as some will have it) by the Gyant Typhon, in the shape of a Broken Tub-preaching Weaver, upon the Body of the foul Viper Echidna; tho', others say, he sprung out of a Dunghill, of which in truth, he is the very Purging and Off-scouring. From the very time he cou'd crawl, he liv'd always on Wash, Greazie Trenchers, and Arse-guts; still Needy, Naked, and Noysome, as when he dropt from his Dam Unlick'd, and with all his Original Filth about him. His Breeding is as obscure as his Birth, tho' we find that when he came to the Age of 30 he went to School; to get (as some thought) a little smattering in Latine, tho' really it was a Pretence to beg Bread. Nor was it long before the Younger Fry smelt him out, so that every little [...]op-o'-my-Thumb made him a May-game: Some wou'd kick him, some grub, and tweak him by the Beard; others wou'd fillip at his Nose; and every one had a fling at him, 'till finding him still the same Idle Troublesom Drone. [Page 2]they by common consent quickly chas'd him away for altogether. But wherever he went, he was still the Vomit and Nusance of the Place, nay the Grievance of the very Scavengers themselves: In his own Defence therefore, was always forc'd to be a Runagate and Vagabond. Beggary and Hunger still pursuing him, Satan at last, by the Temptation of Fatness and Plenty, enter'd into him; and from that time, the Starvling made himself over, and contracted to become the First Son of Belial, the Sans-pareil Swearer, Hell's Narrative-Hawker, and the Devil's Affidavit-Drudge: In consideration of which, he was promis'd three or four Dishes a Meal; that he should (like Dr. Faustus) fly over the World, Ʋnseen; and converse Invisibly with Grandees at Rome, Paris, Madrid, Salamanca, and most of the chief Cities upon Earth, nay should be in several places at one time; That he should have the pleasure of frighting Thousands out of their Wits, with Armies in the Air, and under Ground, and by Swearing, to make 'em believe what he pleas'd; That Tom Thumb slew the two Gyants Amarant and Colbron, and that the seven Champions Arm'd with Black-Bills and Mustard-Balls, were Listed to invade Property, and set up Popery; nay, and that in his own Favour, he should make Black be call'd White; Non-sence, Sence; Lies, Truth; Sawciness, Good-Manners; and Buggery, Chastity. That in all these his Adventures, he should have the Assistance of his Familiars, Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Ashteroth; and that, whatever mischief he did, he should, like [...]ain, have a Mark on him, (for a time at least) that no body should have power to kill him.

All this the Caitiff has, in some measure, seen fulfill'd; and being in a kind of Extasie, by the seeming good luck of his Fool-hardy Villanies, he blunders on, seems to pass away his Time well enough, Eats and Drinks like a Swine; has two or three Catch-Pole like Porkers to attend him, whose Posteriors he often taw's, or (as Mother Creswel terms it) Hogg's; and when he has rais'd his own Beastly Concupiscence, Tilts at 'em with his Nasty Clyster-Pipe. He puts the thoughts of his last Execution-day far from him; yet at present, LIES, Swears, and Blasphemes, as if he were already plung'd in his Infernal Flames. SO HELP ME GOD, is the only Prayer he has power to make; nor that neither, but when he rams down a Lye with a Deadly Oath, which is his new Whiggish Phrase, and Equivalent to GOD DAMME, in earnest: And in truth the Wretch is but just qualify'd to receive the Damna­tion, he seems predestinated himself to pray for; having no more Rationality, than serves to put him out of the Rank of down right Brutes; and that only, that he might not be so Happy as the Beast that perishes.

Behold! the Engine-Idol which the Mobile once admir'd, as the Egyptians did Stinking Garlick, Dogs, and Crocodiles! The Will-o'th'-Wisp, who with False Fires led them into Quagmites and Ditches! Who with his Hurrican Contradictory Breath turn'd all things, as 'twere, Topsy-turvy, to a Miracle! for being in Himself an Object too vile for the Dogs to piss upon, every Effect, of which he seems the Instrument, is really a Miracle; and shews how poor a Tool Providence can work with, nay, is enough to convince an Ʋnbeliever, that a whole World may be made out of Nothing. But the Changling all this while, (tho' less than the pitiful Fly on the Cart-wheel) fan­cies he makes all the Rumbling, and like the Crackt brain Groom, conceits himself an Emperour. And so Pamper'd and Ireakish is he grown, that now he will neither lead nor drive, but kicks and flings at the very Jockeys who first rid him, and having broke his Halter, hurries on in his own Broad-way; But being come almost to his Journeys end, let him take his Swing, and so we bid him Adieu; for like a true Bro­migham Beggar on Horse-back, he is really posting Tantivy to the Devil.