THE Goblins, for this bout, having given over their Pastime, and left their Maygame to take a little repose, that he might in some Measure be refresh'd against their next Sally, My Lord order'd, the same Night, two of his Servants to lie with him, for fear some Devil or other should come and catch him Napping, notwithstanding which, the Butler told his Lordship the next Morning, that the Spirit had again been with him in the likeness of a Quack Doctor, and in his right Hand a wooden Dish-full of grey Liquor, like a Mess of Porridge, at sight of which, he endeavour'd to awake his Bedfellows, but the Spectre told him his attempts were fruitless, for that his Companions were enchanted into a deep Sleep, advising him not to be frighted, for he came as a Friend, and was the same Spirit that caution'd him in the Field against complying with the Company he there met, when he was going for the Cards; adding, that if he had not refus'd to come into their Measures, he had been for ever miserable; also wonder'd he had escap'd the Day before, because he knew there was so powerful a Combination against him; but assur'd him, that for the future there would be no more attempts of the like Nature; further telling the poor trembling Butler, that he knew he was sadly troubl'd with two sorts of Fits, and, therefore, as a Friend, had brought him a Medicine that would Cure him of both, beseeching him to take it, but the poor Patient, who had been so scurvily us'd by these sort of Doctors, and fearing the Devil might be at the Bottom of the Cup, would not be prevail'd upon to swallow the Dose, which made the Spirit Angry; who told him, however, he had a kindness for him, and that if he would bruise the Roots of Plantane without the Leaves, and drink the the Juice thereof, it should certainly Cure him of one sort of his Fits, but as a Punishment for his Obstinacy in refusing the Liquor, he should carry the other to his Grave, then the spiritual Doctor ask'd his Patient if he knew him; the Butler answer'd, _No_. _I am_, says he, _the wandring Ghost of your old Acquaintance_ John Hobby, _who has been dead and bury'd these seven Years_; _and ever since, for the wickedness of my Life, have been lifted into the Company of those Evil-Spirits you beheld in the Fields, am hurry'd up and down in this restless Condition, and doom'd to continue in the same wretched State till the Day of Judgment_. Adding, that _Had you serv'd your Creator in the days of your Youth, and offer'd up your Prayers that Morning, before you were sent for the Cards, you had not been treated by the Spirits that tormented you, with so much Rigour and Severity_.