he will not hear them; for they cry against the plainest dictates of their own conscience, reason, and belief.
But, lastly, they lie in the dust mourning before him. Hang me if I believe that, unless it be figuratively spoken. But suppose it to be true, why do they lie in the dust? Because they love to raise it. For what do they mourn? Why, for power, wealth, and places. There let the enemies of the Queen, and monarchy, and the church, lie and mourn, and lick the dust like serpents, till they are truly sensible of their ingratitude, falsehood, disobedience, slander, blasphemy, sedition, and every evil work.
I cannot find in my heart to conclude, without offering his lordship a little humble advice, upon some certain points.
First, I would advise him, if it be not too late in his life, to endeavour a little at mending his style, which is mighty defective in the circumstances of grammar, propriety, politeness, and smoothness. I fancied at first it might be owing to the prevalence of his passion, as people sputter out nonsense for haste, when they are in a rage. And indeed I believe this piece before me, has received some additional imperfections from that occasion. But whoever has heard his sermons, or read his other tracts, will find him very unhappy in the choice and disposition of his words, and for want of variety, repeating them, especially the particles, in a manner very grating to an English ear. But I confine myself to this introduction, as his last work, where, endeavouring at rhetorical flowers, he gives us only bunches of thistles; of which I could present the
