rown nimble, light of Foot, and outrun
all their Neighbours; Fellows that are as empty of Sense as Beggars are
of Honesty, and as far from Brains as a Whore is of Modesty; on a sudden
you shall find them dip into _Polemicks_, study _Michael Servetus_,
_Socinus_, and the most learned of their Disciples; they shall reason
against all Religion, as strongly as a Philosopher; blaspheme with such
a Keenness of Wit, and satyrise God and Eternity, with such a Brightness
of Fancy, as if the soul of a _Rochester_ or a _Hobbs_ was
transmigrated into them; in a little length of Time more they banter
Heaven, burlesque the Trinity, and jest with every sacred thing, and all
so sharp, so ready, and so terribly witty, as if they were born
Buffoons, and were singl'd out by Nature to be Champions for the Devil.

Whence can all this come? how is the Change wrought? who but the Devil
can inject Wit in Spight of natural Dullness, create Brains, fill empty
Heads, and supply the Vacuities in the Understanding? and will Satan do
all this for nothing? _No, no_, he is too wise for that; I can never
doubt a secret Compact, if there is such a thing in Nature; when I see a
Head where there was no Head, Sense in _Posse_ where there is no Sense
in _Esse_, Wit without Brains, and Sight without Eyes, 'tis all
_Devil-Work_: Could _G----_ write Satyrs, that could neither read
_Latin_ or spell _English_, like old Sir _William Read_, who wrote a
Book of Opticks, which when it was printed, he did not know which was
the right Side uppermost, and which the wrong? Could this eminent
uninform'd Beau turn Atheist, and make wise Speeches against that Being,
which made him a Fool, if the Devil had not sold him some Wit in
exchange for that Trifle of his, call'd Soul? Had he not barter'd his
Inside with that Son of the Morning, to have his Tongue tip'd with
Blasphemy, he that knew nothing of a God, but only to swear by him,
could never have set up for a Wit, to burlesque his Providence and
ridicule his Government of the World.

But the Devil, as he is God of the World, has one particular Advantage,
and that is, that when he has Work to do he very seldom wants
Instruments; with this Circumstance also, that the Degeneracy of human
Nature supplies him; as the late King of _France_ said of himself, when
they told him what a Calamity was like to befal his Kingdom by the
Famine: _Well_, says the King, then I shall not want Soldiers; _and it
was so_, want of Bread supplie