The moment Mr. Pembroke had uttered the
shibboleth, with the appropriate gesture, the bibliopolist greeted
him, notwithstanding every disclamation, by the title of Doctor, and
conveying him into his back shop, after inspecting every possible and
impossible place of concealment, he commenced: 'Eh, doctor! Well--all
under the rose--snug--I keep no holes here even for a Hanoverian rat
to hide in. And, what--eh! any good news from our friends over the
water?--and how does the worthy king of France? Or perhaps you are more
lately from Rome?--it must be Rome will do it at last--the church must
light its candle at the old lamp. Eh! what, cautious? I like you the
better; but no fear.'
Here Mr. Pembroke, with some difficulty, stopped a torrent of
interrogations, eked out with signs, nods, and winks; and, having at
length convinced the bookseller that he did him too much honour in
supposing him an emissary of exiled royalty, he explained his actual
business.
The man of books, with a much more composed air, proceeded to examine
the manuscripts. The title of the first was 'A Dissent from Dissenters,
or the Comprehension confuted; showing the Impossibility of any
Composition between the Church and Puritans, Presbyterians, or Sectaries
of any Description; illustrated from the Scriptures, the fathers of
the Church, and the soundest Controversial Divines.
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