A Sham-Plotter (to begin with his Pedigree) is the Spawn of a Papist, as a Toad-Poll of a Toad, their Inwards and Venom are the same, but they differ in outward Shape, Lineaments, and Proportion, for want only of maturity:

For Evasions, Lies, Oaths and Equivocations, he is Conscienc'd like a Jesuite, Covetous as Ahab, and Blood­thirsty as Jezabel.

You may call him Horse-Leech; for blood he thirsts, by blood he lives, and by blood he usually dyes, 'tis his Food and his Bane, as Fatal as Pleasant to his Ap­petite.

He is the Land-Pyrate, that Pickaroons mens Lives and Estates, by putting out false Colours, his whole Cargo and Stock being only a stock of Impudence, Lies and Oaths.

For he Swallows Oaths with as nimble conveyance as Hocus does Knives; and as ready to spew them up again to Murder the Innocent: for the Daggers that Cle­ments and Ravilliacks carryed in their Sleeves, he car­ries in his Mouth, ready when his Cue comes, to Stab his Brother with the Dexterity of Cain, and for the same Reason; because more Righteous than himself.

There is no more fence against his strokes, than a­gainst Lightning or Thunder-Bolts, no caution, no prudence, no Innocence can protect; God help the while.

He gets his Bread (like the Spanish-Bravo's) by kil­ling of men, and when Conscience flyes in his Face for it, he fobs her off, with saying— It is his Trade, and Vocation.

He is the worst and blackest of Knights of the Post; for these formerly Swore men out of nothing but their Estates, but this Vulture and Bird of Prey is Keen and Sharp, flyes at all: can ruin Life, Honour, Estate and Posterity at once.

No man ever took more pains in hunting after Game for his Pleasure, than this does for Gain and Revenge; he beats every Bush, turns every Stone, insinuates into all Companies, seeks occasion, gives occasion and pro­vocation, incessant in mischief, like a true-bred Incar­nate-Devil, walking to and fro, seeking whom he may devour.

He is so very a Judus that he often betrays his own Masters and Employers, (as Imps betray Witches so) this Impe betrays to the Gallows the Haggs that suckled him, fed and nourisht him.

For (like other Asses) he follows his Rider only for the sake of Provender, and when that is done or eaten, rewards his Keeper with a kick, and a jades trick if he can.

For his Life is the great Riddle of the world, it puz­zles the wisest Criticks to know what to make of him; for here you shall have him, and there you shall have him; somtimes Swears on one side, somtimes another. And when you think you have him sure, Ixion-like, you do but Hugg a Cloud and Embrace a Shadow; for there's nothing of Truth, substance or reality in him; he changes his Oaths, as Chapmen come, or (as at a Lyth-Coop) for— who bids more?

Nothing being the Master of his Conscience but money, and therefore no more credit to be given to his Oaths or Words, than to those Ambodexter-Lawyers, that take Fees on both sides, Plead Pro and Con, Bawling, (like Curst Currs) at their very Masters whose hands­fed them but the day before; being therefore the very Baboons of Ingratitude, as having nothing in them of humanity, but the shape.

This Couple or pair usually Hunt together, and in Couples, being as necessary to each other as the Pick-Pocket and Rope-Dancer; or as the Bawd and the Whore; or as the Lion and Jackall; or a Pimp and a Whore-Master; or a Grey-Hound and a Finder; or a Mountebank and his Fool; the one Sets, and brings in Game, and the other Hunts it down, and then both go snips in the Prey; both of them are best pleas'd and most applaud their Industry when Prosperous in Villany; then Huzzah,—Huzzah.— And, like other Toads, the more Venom they suck, the greater they gram, swell and look bigg: for their Primum Mobile is hopes of Preferment, and money, money; that's the burden of their Song to their Clients and Customers (like that of Jago in the Moor of Venice) go, put money in thy Purse, make all the money that thou canst, Fill thy Purse with money.

The Judg and Jury that would take them right, must Construe them as they do Dreams (or Witches-Prayers) read them backward, and by the Contrary.

When these pair of Brothers meet (like two Knives) (as in a late instance) they whet one another, and sharpen to mischief.

The Indian-Cannibals and Man-eaters are (to my knowledge) but a Romance to these, that (like the wild Arabs in the Desart) live upon mans Flesh, and get their living by Mummy.

When they [...]ope their breath-selling-mouths, you would think Pandora's Box begun to gape and open, for out flies Plagues, Death and Ruine.

There's no more Truth in them, then in an Hypocrite; And they are as full of Lyes as any Gazet, or Dome­mestick-Intelligence; and as full of Flattery as an Epistle Dedicatory; or a Probational Sermon (in presence of the Patron) when the trembling Candidate has prospect of a Benefice.

They (both of them) Love and Hate (as their Whores do) only for mony and preferment; and to com­pass their ends become the Renegado's of Truth, Ho­nesty and Religion.

But I'le uncouple the Doggs a while, and Hunt them single;

And first methinks I see my Sham-Plotter; I know him by his looks, which are as full of Melancholy and Despair, as the Sybills of old, or Mother Shipton meagre and wan, as always poring on Revenge, and meditating and remembring his latter end (I mean) Hell and the torments thereof, which have begun to commence in his own Bosome.

For his mind is hot as Aetna, and his Conscience (when he is awake and not drunk) is Turgid and trou­bled, as the Bay of Biscay, always threatning a a Storm; his visage (like Faux in disguize) ready to give Eire to the Train of a well and deep-laid-Plot.

His love, (if he have any,) is only that of Cuckolds, loves them best that are his undoers; nor is he ever good natur'd or merciful but (as Cowards are) when he dares not be mischeivous: for he has no more remorse, Follow-feeling, pitty or relenting, than a man of Ala­baster.

He has the Plague all over him, and like other in­fected Persons, desires to spread his Venome and Infe­ction, and kill as many as he can; and therefore all that know him, avoid him, as the Pestilence.

Nay, He's the worst of Plagues, Charity is never a sin but to him alone. 'tis a sin, to bid him— God­speed, or to write so much as a— Lord have mercy— o're his door.

In short, to Limn him right, he's the very Picture in little, or Epitome of H [...]raclitus Ridens, (that is) a Villain Burlesque, an equal Compound of Knave and Fool, the single Hieroglyphick, of Balaam and his Ass together.

He's mischeivous in Earnest, but never speaks Truth but in Jest, or makes a Jest of Truth; a serious-dull-Phlegmatick piece of Scurrility; and like Merry-An­drew spoils all the first proffers of Ingenuity, by being Flaccid, and stail at the last, and nauseous to a Cram­bee; a meer Common-Place of Dulness and Calamny ana, or the Grimace of Honour and Wit.

Yet, as prosperous as he is in Villany, he's as poor as a bad Poet, or as a Lampoon-maker, or an Intelli­gencer: but as Impudent in begging, as the Mumpers in Lincolns-Inn-fields, for he seeks to all Comers; and a Pension the Slave will have one where or another, from the good, the bad.

For his Debauchery and Riots make him poor and Needy, And his Poverty (like his Lusts) makes him a Beggar and a Pensioner, sometimes Mumping for an Almes from Rome, sometimes from the Ʋniversity; Yet as Poor as he is, he is ('Tis Strange) also guilty of Coveteousness, The Root of all Evil, enough, (like Original Sin) to Infect the whole Generation.

To give some Credit to his Sham's, he often inter­laces his Discourse,— Remember—41. Meaning the Commencement of the Unnatural Troubles in En­gland in—41.

But he never Intends thereby that men should Re­member the Bloody Massacres of his Brethren (the Tories) in Ireland in—41. Nor has he (now) any more Pity or Remorse for an Innocent man (when his Turn comes to Swear) then his Brethren the Irish Cut-throats shew'd to the Innocent Babes in—41. When they Ript them alive out of their Mothers Bel­lies, and carried them on the Top of their Spears, (as Trophee's of their Murder) in—41. A Cruelty Design'd for all Protestants in England, Scotland, and Ireland, in—41. If God Almighty and their Valour had not Subdued the Rebell-Cut-Throats—in 41. Come then, Let's Remember still—41.—41.

When Shoals of these Shirks these Tories and Sham-Plotters, appear Bare-fac't in any Land or Nation, they are as Fatal and Prodigions, as Sword-Fishes, Sharks, and Whales, when thrown up in the Thames, allways Foreboding some ensuing Plagues, War, or Mischiefs, like Vultures that Haunt (by wise Presage) an Army before a Bloody Battel, Prophecying Streams of Blood shortly to Ensue.

He never Forswears Villany till he comes to the Gallows (like Fitzh-) and can no longer Practice it; like Gamesters that Forswear play, only when their Mo­neys are lost and gone, and they want Stakes to play on.

He likes his Trade (as bad as it is) because since he left the Pad, he has no other; and he likes it so much the better, because he cannot break on't till he break his Neck; nor ever will want Customers or Mo­ney, till the World wants Villany, or till Truth get Credit in the World.

He Swears and gives in Evidence (as a Young play­er says his Part) onely as he is Prompted, But Blushes no more when he's out of his Story, and has Sworn Counter, then does an Old Stage-Player, hardned to the work, and Inur'd beyond the possibility of Modesty or shame for an Escape.

His Complexion is allways A-la-mode (I mean) Paynted and Hypocritical; he is not (nor does he De­sire to seem) what he is: For should he appear as na­ked as Truth, he would look as Ghastly and Deform'd, as old Lady Death's head (the French Pimp) before her Essences are laid on: But let him Trim himself with some Dress of Religion, Loyalty and Honesty, and of (I know not what) Church, yet if you knew his Inside, you would think yourself among the Negro's, and (with them) call the Devil, (Strange it should be)— a White-man.

He's a Younger Brother (both by Father and Mo­ther side) to the A-la-mode-Murderers, the Poysoners in France, Engender'd by a Jesuit upon a Succubus (or she Devil,

His very Smiles are as Dangerous as the Fawnings of a Mad-Dogg; he offers to lick your Fingers only to Snap at them; therefore keep him at a Distance, and Stave's-End; For his Embraces are as Fatal as those, of his Whore; and as hollow and Counterfeit as those of the Prelate, when he Cringes, and Bowes; Leers and grins fawns and smiles on an Athiestical Don or Pimp.

An Informer or Promoter comes a far short of a Sham-Plotter as a Chick in Embrio from a feather'd Fowl, or as a sucking Imp from a Grand Devil, or as a Whelp from a Dog of the same kind time and experience will improve him, and make him perfect Dog.

In short, He's more Cowardly than a Tory, and yet Lustful enough to Debauch the Stews; and therefore the old Character fits him to a hair, namely, ‘ Mars ad opus Veneris, Martis ad Arma Venus.’

In English thus:

Or thus:

Or thus:

He never confesses his Villany, except (as Thieves sometimes do) to acquit himself by Impeaching his fel­low Criminals.

In fine, (for I am weary of drawing his Picture, and sick of him and his Deformities) He has Impu­dence enough to out-stare a Courtier, and make him blush; Knavery enough to teach a Jew, a Proctor. or a Register; Lechery enough to tutor a Cardinal; A­theism and Irreligion enough to pervert a Renegado, and make him worse; Oaths, Curses, and Imprecations enough to prophane a Court, or the Ordinaries; Folly and Madness enough to merit Bedlam; yet Roguery enough to merit Bridewel; Lies enough to out-vie a Traveller, or THOMPSON the INTELLIGENCER; Cruelty enough to improve an Irish-Tory; Dulness and Slander enough to out- Billingsgate HERACLI­TƲS RIDENS; Villany enough to mislead and scan­dal a Goal; Sycophantry enough to out-pimp— &c.—Flattery enough to out-dwindle a Prelate; Prodiga­lity enough to Instruct (as well as Ruine) a Young Heir; and yet Covetousness and Ambition enough to surpass a Conclave; Hellish Stratagems and Sham-Plots enough to shame the Devil or a Jesuite; Pro­phaneness enough to out-rant a Tory; Ingratitude enough to equal Judas himself; Despair enough to hang himself; yet Vileness enough to discredit the Gallows. And there I leave him, for that groans for him, and is often his—END.

But we have had too much of him already: For his further Character I refer you to that Seasonable Ser­mon of the Horrid Sin of Man-Catching, where you'l find this Man-Catchers Picture is drawn to the Life by E. H.