I wish my author would have furnished me with an argument to have brought him wholly off; but I will bring him on his way as far as by the help of the answerer’s scarf I can fairly drag him. I say therefore, that though her Highness changed not her belief upon the concessions of the bishop, yet his concessions were an occasion of her farther scruples, in order to her change; for, she says, “they added to the desire she had to be a Catholic.” The bishop did indeed tell her, that all things necessary to salvation were in the English church; but tell me, Sir, I beseech you, was that all he told her? By your favour, you have left out the better half of what he said; for he told her also, “that if he had been bred a Catholic, he would not have changed.” And she had reason to believe what he said to the advantage of a church of which he was no member, as being sure he would say no more than scanty truth. And he acknowledges into the bargain, that “confession was commanded of God;” and, that “praying for the dead was one of the ancient things in Christianity.” What a shameful way of arguing is this, to make a general negative conclusion from half the premises? or, in other words, to maintain, that the bishop’s concessions could have no influence upon her, because they had not the greatest influence? And you in a manner confess it before you were aware, in the close of your argument, where you say, “There must therefore have been some more secret reason, which increased her desire to be a Catholic, after these discourses.” Now some more secret reason does not hinder the bishop’s concessions from being one; nay, it argues, that they were one of the reasons, though not the most prevalent, because there was one more secret. You have now contradicted yourself so plainly, that you have wholly justified the Duchess; and the broad word, without naming it, is fairly brought back to your own door. After this, our answerer does but piddle, and play at small game, as if her Highness might possibly take encouragement from the bishop’s calling the church of Rome the Catholic religion; but she was too much in earnest to lay hold upon a word. Neither is more advantage to be taken from his calling the church of Rome the Catholic religion, than we receive disadvantage from the playing upon the word of Roman Catholic. Next, for want of a quarrel, he is falling upon his late dear friend the bishop: “Was he,” says our answerer, “so weak, to mean the word _Catholic_ in the strictest sense, he must then have contradicted himself; there was an inconsistency in his words,”—and so forth.