Protagonists, Nauseous Ribaldry, Ranting Smutt, Abominable Stench_,
Venus _and St _George_, _Juliana_, the Witch and the Parson of _Wrotham_
[Footnote: Collier's Epithetes.], with the admirable Popish story of the
Woman that went to the Play-House and brought home the Devil with her_
[Footnote: Collier, p. 257.]--And the Devil's in't indeed, if this
charming Rhetorick of his, (since he calls mine so) especially joyn'd
with that fine story from _Tertullian_, don't divert the Ladies as well
as t'other; for 'tis very like a Catholick miracle you must know, and
the top wit of it is, that when the Parson is Conjuring, _he asks the
Devil how he durst attack a Christian?_ who, like an admirable Joker as
he was, answers, _I have done nothing but what I can justify, for I
seiz'd her upon my own ground_. Now let the Devil be as witty as he can,
I am sure the story, maugre _Tertullian_'s Authority, or the Doctor's
either, is confounded silly, and downright nonsense, what credit soever
it has with him for its likeness to Jesuiticism. And now I think I have
prov'd too, that _a Clergy man can speak nonsense, pass it for humour
too, and gratify his ease and his malice at once, without a Poet's
putting his into his Mouth_. And since we have been speaking of
quibbling, I shall digress a little to entertain the Reader on that
subject. Our Critick rallies Mr _Dryden_'s _Sancho_ in _Love
Triumphant_, for saying, _dont provoke me, I'm mischievously bent_,
to which _Carlos_ a man of sense replys, _nay you are bent enough in
conscience, but I have a bent Fist for Boxing; Here_ says he (smartly)
_you have a brace of quibbles started in a line and a half [Footnote:
Collier, p. 170.]_--Very true, you have so--But suppose quibbling or
punning--but I think this is call'd punning--Is this Gentlemans
humour--if so, being a Soldier, I don't see it calls his sense in
question at all--but now pray let's see, how our Critick manages a
quibble, with a blunder tack'd to the Tail on't, in the page before,
there, in the aforesaid Play, _Celidea_ in a passion cries,