You upbraid me with a great discovery you chanc’d to make, by peeping into the breast of an old friend of mine; if you give yourself but the trouble of examining an old poet’s conscience, who went lately off the stage, and now takes up his lodgings in your territories, and I don’t question, but you’ll there find, Mrs. _Behn_ writ as often in black characters, and stands as thick in some places, as the names of the generation of _Adam_ in the first of _Genesis_. But oh! that I had but one glance into your own accounts; there I am sure, should I find a compleat register of all the poets of your standing, from the _Laureat_, down to the _White-Fryars_ ballad-monger: at this rate, well might you be esteem’d a female wit, since the least return your versifying admirers could make you for your favours, was, first to lend you their assistance, and then oblige you with their applause: besides, how could you do otherwise than produce some wit to the world, since you were so often plough’d and sow’d by the kind husbandmen of _Apollo_? but give me leave, _Madam_, to tell you, after all your amorous intrigues to please the taglines of the age, and all the fatigue of your brains to oblige a fickle audience, I never could yet hear that your reputation ever soar’d above the character of a bawdy poetess; and these were the two knacks you were chiefly happy in, one was to make libertines laugh, and the other to make modest women blush; and had you happen’d to have liv’d in a reforming age, under the lash of Mr. _C----r_, he would have so firk’d you about the pig-market, that you must have learn’d to have writ more modestly, or he would have been apt to have said, you certainly thinn’d your ink with your own water, or you could never have writ so bawdily.