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Crack upon Crack: OR, CRACK-FART Whipt with his own ROD,
If Crack-Fart drawn unto the Life you'ld see, Loe here he hangs in formal Effigie: His Writings were so Foul, as all suppose They'l Poison us! Good Reader stop your Nose.
WEll overtaken, honest Bumpkin; what, your Whip in your hand man? Prithee what's that for? and why so much in haste?
Dear honest Citt, never better met than now; I am now going about a Business of extraordinary Importance, and your presence (if you please to accompany me) will be extream useful and necessary: I am going in search of that Dissembling Tool who Nick-names himself Trueman, though indeed the meerest Crack-fart in the World. Don't you remember him Citt?
Remember him, I that I do, too well; the first time you know, like a cunning Sophister, he bolted out of a Closer to surprize us, a second time he intruded into our Company in our walk to Hampsted, and then obtruded those things upon us we never imagined.
Right, right Citt; But if I do not give him a Lace to his fine Coat (if I can but set eyes on him) as long as this Whip lasts, never believe man more for my sake.
Well said Bumpkin, and I'll assist thee with this Cat of Nine-tails; for to say the Truth, I always took him to be a sharp-witted Logician, without the least Dram of Honesty; and now the Sophister has showed us a fair pair of heels.
Pox-on't, who'd think a man in his Coat should serve us so?
Think Bumpkin, why I always thought no other; for to say the truth, How could you reasonably expect he would stay to hazard his Neck? Come come, think what you will, I know he is a meer Hocus, and no better.
But whither Cit do'st intend to go to find him?