At this time I particularly intend a paper called the Medley; whose indefatigable incessant railings against me I never thought convenient to take notice of, because it would have diverted my design, which I intended to be of publick use. Besides, I never yet observed that writer, or those writers (for it is every way a Medley) to argue against any one material point or fact that I had advanced, or make one fair quotation. And after all, I knew very well how soon the world grow weary of controversy. It is plain to me, that three or four hands at least have been joined at times in that worthy composition; but the outlines, as well as the finishing, seem to have been always the work of the same pen, as it is visible from half a score beauties of style inseparable from it. But who these Medlers are, or where the judicious leaders have picked them up, I shall never go about to conjecture; factious rancour, false wit, abandoned scurrility, impudent falsehood, and servile pedantry, having so many fathers, and so few to own them, that curiosity herself would not be at the pains to guess. It is the first time I ever did myself the honour to mention that admirable paper; nor could I imagine any occasion likely to happen that would make it necessary for me to engage with such an adversary. This paper is weekly published, and as appears by the number, has been so for several months; and is, next to the Observator, allowed to be the best production of the party. Last week my printer brought me that of May 7, Number 32, where there are two paragraphs relating to the speaker of the house of commons, and to Mr. Harley, which, as little as I am inclined to engage with such an antagonist, I cannot let pass without failing in my duty to the
