Of the Summer, 1690.
ALtho we have had Mr. Merlin's Confession, that an Ingressio∣nal Scheme cannot be obtain'd to a Sign, two or three, up∣on the Horoscope. Yet is he so confident here, as to tell us,—That 12 ♋ Ascends, and 9 of ♓ Culminates. Whereas, if we appeal to his own Almanack, not ♋ but ♊ Ascends, and not ♓ but, ♒ Culminates. And thus he presumes to present us with a Figure of the Ingress; which he not only owns impossible to be found, but totally disown'd by his own Book. Howbeit, from these Falla∣cious Positions, he can boldly Predict. Predict! What? Why, no∣thing more than some Hostility of the Mobb.—Nothing more! you Wretch! the least of such a Mischief, is by many Degrees too much. But, blessed be God, he hath lived to see himself Deceiv'd; and I hope, as to such Presages ever will.
Now, he proceeds from his Impossible Scheme, to tell us, The Destruction of Mankind, where Armies are near and in the Field, &c. Did he ever know of Armies in a House? But passing such Niceties, I must tell him, This is a very secure Prediction, and much to his Honor. This, no more now, Sublicium Caput, as I before ignorantly termed him, but a right Heir of Lapland! A true bred Diviner! that can breath forth such an unerring Oracle, as the Destruction of Mankind, where Armies are near, and in the Field, &c. But, what if those Armies should not Fight? Or else should prove Friends, and engag'd in the same Common Cause? Why, should it so fall out; our blustring Merlin is Mistaken, and there's an end on't.