But first for the Cavaliers.

First, Mercurius Pragmaticus is a fellow witty enough, but he hath more wit then honesty; he is the wittiest knave of the whole crew: (give the Devil his due,) he is the Court-jester, the Cavaliers fool, the chief squib-crack, arch pamphlet-puppy; if his Bre­thren (in iniquity) get him, the fools hug him, as the Papists doe a Dispensation, to eat flesh Fridayes; wherewith they are furnished with jests and jeers for a long time after.

This same Pragmaticus (alias J. Cleveland) was for­merly an University-chitron, but now he is chief press­whelp; I took him at first for a Chilver-cavalier, be­cause he vented such loud feminine scouldings: he had right a female Dialect, as if he would have unquaifed the Parliament: His motto i [...], Nemo me impune lacessit, None provokes me without punishment. Great gun­powder words, but who fears it? Nemo, hercule, nemo. Aut duo, aut nemo. He spews poyson in every ones [Page] face he meets, and snaps at all, as if (like a Cannibal) he meant to bite off their noses; but sh [...]ewd Cowes have short horns: His chief subject of jeering is Reli­gion; he thinks he doth great matters to cull some Divinity-dragooneers, or the like: But, sirrah Prag­maticus, whats become of your religions Ballad-sing­ers, your devout Bel [...]ow [...]-blowers, your divine Fidlers, your godly Pipers, together with your heavenly Bawdy­court? you tell Master P. of edifying the Sisters in an upper room; and is it not for anger, that you must no more have a woman out of the Charter-house into the dark side of the cloister to make auricular Confession, whilest you presse hard to know all, forgiving her fee upon condition—: you know my meaning. Whats become of your wooden Doctors, your leaden headed Deans, your thundring Canons, your lazy Prebends, your simmonizing Chancellours, your sheep▪biting Bitesheeps, (Bishops I would say) your treasonplotting Arch-bitesheeps, with the rest of that divellish Hie­rarchy?

Pragmaticus at first seemed witty enough to edifie a jest, but he hath almost worn out his roguish expressi­ons; 'tis thought his note-book is almost at an end, and then the poor puny may give over in plain ground: But for his better supportment, he takes the councell of a generall caterwaul of Cavaliers once a week, to his great consolation; else 'tis thought the humidum radi­cale of his wit had been exhausted, and his libell lan­guished into a consumption, for he is grown already al­most as very a snivel-nose as Elencticus.

He feeds his own Party with vain hopes, and promi­ses [Page] fair; he hath made himself cock-sure of the honest Scots, but the fool is deceived.

He hath bulled the Cow of the Kingdom with pro­mise of a King, and she bides by it; she hath been long asue, and sprung the udder of hope; but when she will Calve, who can determine?

Secondly, Mercurius Elencticus is the silliest fellow of the whole red-nosed tribe of Mercury-mongers, the veriest asse that ever shit through a Trumpet, the frit­ter of fraud, the seething-pot of iniquity, the costly (I mean) costive-wittedst block head that ever was guilty of spoiling ink and paper; be squeezeth out his non­sence with so much labour and pain, and makes so ma­ny vinegar-faces to the wringing of a lame line out, it would grieve one to see it, and hath speciall need of Rubarb to loosen his wit.

He explicates a jeer so largely, with so many cir­cumlocutions, letting on't out by little and little, that he makes it, from the sounding fart of a jest, become the stinking fizle of a ridiculous sentence. He tailes at the Almanack-makers in folio, and (as if he meant to make a Comment upon Master Bookers) handles every part of it exactly: And the best part I saw in him is (he called Master Lilly Star-gazing Wizard:) but I will leave this Almanack-expositor to the expounded, who I know are informed by the Starres how to rail at him soundly enough in the next yeers Almanack.

2. Nunc de Parliamenteers.

First, the Perfect Diurnall-writer is an old standing Pool, and therefore must needs gather much silth; he [Page] is the arch-sedition-monger, he may fib by authority, and lye stoutly (as no doubt but he doth) cum publico privilegio, imprimatur G. Mabbot: He cannot write a jest but at second hand, and seldome rails but at Pres­bytery, which he doth scouldingly, with much waspish­nesse: he takes occasion to speak of the eleven Mem­bers in every Diurnall, least happly we should forget them: he is absolutely the cunningst whelp of the whole litter, for he never makes an end of his tale, but referres some to next week, some to friday, &c. hold­ing his Reader in continuall expectation of what fol­lowes, never satisfying him.

He tels of many Orders (as good women tell one another of their egges) there are many egges laid, but shall they ever be hatcht into the Chicken of exe­cution? there are many hatcht indeed, but they are for money, and they passe nemine contradicente: Now and then a good chick breaks the shell with much difficul­ty, but it muw be warily kept, else the Kite of cove­tousnesse will snatch it away: this fellow sneaks at Westminster for his newes, and hath private intelligence from the Army; his ears are of the larger size, they reach to Ireland, Scotland, France and Holland: to conclude, he is a meere changeling, a fellow of no value.

Secondly, the Moderate Intelligencer is the epitome of nothing, the gizard of a trifle: This fellow is Liar­royall, and can out-lye a sheet every week; he tels out­landish, beyond-sea lyes, besides English, and his ears are ubiquitary; he knowes what ere is done in France, Spain, Holland, Germany, Swevia, Denmark, Russia, Italy, [Page] Dacia, Sclavonia, Transilvania, Poland, Turcia, Canaea, Venice and Rome: (but sirrah, who made you of his Ho­linesse privy Counsell:) thus having fild his dung-cart, he sends it out into the world.

There are many other silly fellows of this profession, who are no [...] worth the castigating distinctly; they are all the e [...]crements of humanity, the hemrods of wit, the fire-brands of contention, the chafendishes of hell, (or as the American Cobler speaks of fashion-loving women) the gyblets of vanity, the petti-toes of infir­mity; fitter to be kickt, if they were of a kickable sub­stance, then either honoured or humoured.

I wish our noble Senators would be pleased, either to banish these whiffers out of the Kingdom, or to send these gipsies home from tithing to tithing, with whip and passe, or bung up the mouthes of these brawling curres with a pension (as Charillus was served) that they may no longer corrupt the world with their forgeries: I would willingly allow them New-gate pension, bread and water, on condition they work hard, or a generall assessement per mensem, for their relief: but if not, may they be hated of all, (or as Dorcas in Sir P. S. his ma­lady) may the taste of them be worse then musty cheese, and their sight more odible then a Toad in ones pottage.