In the
mean time I shall present the publick with a faithful narrative
of the ungenerous treatment and hard usage I have received from
the virulent papers and malicious practices of this pretended
astrologer.
A true and impartial account of the proceedings of Isaac
Bickerstaff, Esq; against me ----
The 28th of March, Anno Dom. 1708, being the night this
sham-prophet had so impudently fix'd for my last, which made
little impression on myself; but I cannot answer for my whole
family; for my wife, with a concern more than usual, prevailed on
me to take somewhat to sweat for a cold; and, between the hours
of eight and nine, to go to bed: The maid, as she was warming my
bed, with a curiosity natural to young wenches, runs to the
window, and asks of one passing the street, who the bell toll'd
for? Dr. Partridge, says he, that famous almanack-maker, who died
suddenly this evening: The poor girl provoked, told him he ly'd
like a rascal; the other very sedately reply'd, the sexton had so
informed him, and if false, he was to blame for imposing upon a
stranger. She asked a second, and a third, as they passed, and
every one was in the same tone. Now I don't say these are
accomplices to a certain astrological 'squire, and that one
Bickerstaff might be sauntring thereabouts; because I will assert
nothing here but what I dare attest, and plain matter of fact.
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