Citt. Yes, yes, and for a help to your memory I would advise you to dispose of your Observations into these Three Heads, Words, Phrases, and Metaphors: Do you conceive me?
The Force of Looks and Tones.
Bum. There's not a word you say, falls to the Ground. And I am the more sensible of the force of Words, Looks, Tones, and Metaphors (as ye call 'um) from what I finde in my self. Ours certainly may be well term'd a Powerfull Ministry, that makes a man cry like a Child at the very Noyse of a Torrent of Words that he does not Understand One Syllable of. Nay, when I have been out of reach of hearing the Words, the very Tone and Look, has Melted me.
A Moving Metaphor.
Citt. Thou canst not but have heard of That Moving Metaphor of the late Reverend Mr. Fowler: Lord Sowse us; (says he) Lord Dowse us, in the Powdering-Tubb of Affliction; that we may come forth Tripes worthy of thy Holy Table. Who can resist the Inundation of This Rhetorique? But let us now pass from the Generall Ornaments of our Profession, to the Particular businesse of our present Case.
I need not tell you, Bumpkin, of the Plott, or that we are all running into Popery; and that the best Service Englishman can do his Country, would be the ripping up of This Designe to the Bottom.
Bum. I am so much of Your Opinion, that you have Spoken my very Thoughts.
Citt. Bethink your self, Bumpkin; what Papists do you know?
Bum. Oh, hang 'um all, I never come near any of 'Um.
Citt. But yet you may have Heard, perhaps, of some people that are Popishly affected.