THE Book you were pleas'd to send me from Monsieur Scarron is a Pre­sent, which I am extreamly oblig'd to value. Upon the first perusal, it prov'd an effectual remedy, and eas'd me of an oppression of the Spleen, which might [Page 2] haply have put a period to my breathing, had it not been for that seasonable relief. I am in hopes, it may yet do some further Cure, if I use it oftner. It is not impossi­ble, but, by the help of it, I may be reco­ver'd out of that Philosophical Melancholy, and indivertive seriousness, which I am too much subject to. Nay, probably, I may thereby learn to put Chancery-Bills and Le­gends into rime, and become jocund and cheerful by contagion. This certainly is the most admirable indispos'd person that ever was heard of; there is something in him which transcends health it self, I mean that health which we may call stupid and material: for you know, that the Arabians, speaking of alacrity, affirm it to be the flow­er and spirit of a lively and stirring health. Since you are desirous to know what dif­ferent reflections I have made on this in­dispos'd person, and expect I should digest my thoughts of him into a particular Chap­ter; I am, in the first place, to give you this character of him, That, of all the men I ever convers'd with, he must be guilty of either the greatest dissimulation, or the greatest constancy. I say, that he shall rise up in Judgment against the delicacy and blandishments whereto humane Nature is [Page 3] so much inclin'd, or that Pain, and all its afflictive retinue treat him more gently than they do other men. I say, there is some probability, that the common Execu­tioner punishes the Patient with some kind of lenity and remorse. When I see him laughing, as he does, in the midst of his torments, I must confess my self apt to be of an opinion, That his pain comes not up to that degree we commonly assign it, to be such, and amounts only to a certain titilla­tion. In fine, I stick not to affirm, that the Prometheus, the Hercules, the Philoctetes, mention'd in the Fables, not to say any thing of Job, the truth of whose story we doubt not of, say very great and remar­kable things in the violence of their tor­ments; but they are far from speaking such as are pleasant, and divertive. I must acknowledge, that, in many places of An­tiquity, I have met with Griefs, from which, such as endur'd them, acquir'd the reputation, some of Constancy; some of Modesty; some of Prudence, nay, some of Eloquence; but of any remarkable for a perpetual intermixture of Alacrity, this is the onely Example: No, I could never meet there with any mention of a Mind, soprin­cipled by the dictates of any Sect, as that it [Page 4] could dance and be frolicksom, in a Body, where the Palsey had taken up its Quarters. So observable a Prodigy deserves to come under the consideration of Philosophers, em­ployed upon the quest of things requiring the greatest curiosity. 'Twere an omission in History to forget him; and if I were in an humour to be an Historian, as I am an Historiographer, I should not account it the least Miracle of our Time, which hath produc'd so many such. It is not my design to detract ought from the reputation of the Dead, with whom I must acknowledg my self to have had a friendship: But there are different degrees of Reputation, and though the quality of an Apostle, be a Title of no small Account in a Christian Family, yet is it to be confess'd, that the Martyrdom of the Son is somewhat that is more rare than the Apostolical employment of the Father. What think you, would be the sentiments of your Seneca upon this occasion, that Seneca, who heretofore took so great a pleasure in Trea­ting of such matters, and who so often hath sought the occasions of doing it? Will it not be found true, that that disdainful and insolent Vertue, so much celebrated by him, which brags of its being at ease and un­disturb'd in Phalaris's Bull, and could say, [Page 5] that it was pleasant being there, was but the simple figure of this Vertue so accompany'd by Meekness and Humility, as that it knows how to put in practice the Paradoxes of the other, and that without the least ostentati­on? Let us then conclude, to the honor of him, who calls himself the most humble, most Obedient, most Oblig'd, and most In­dispos'd Servant and Subject to a great Queen, that there is either Ecstasie and En­thusiasm in his Indisposition, and that the Soul executes her functions apart, without being any way immers'd in Matter; or that there is an extraordinary constancy and vi­gour in it, and that the Soul, in its strug­lings with the Body, hath all the advan­tage, that a stronger person hath over a weaker.

[Page 7] I know not whether the Chequer-work of this Chapter will please you; but out of a fear the length of it may displease you, I close it, and remain,

I Presume to send your Majesty some Pro­ductions of mine, which possibly you have not seen. If you find any thing in them that may please you, the satisfaction I shall conceive thereat will be as great as I am capable of, who having once had the Honour to see you, must now look on my self as reduc'd to that unhappy condition as [...]ever to expect it again. To compleat the m [...]asure of my ill Fortune, and the miseries of [...] Life, it seems there wanted only the afflic [...]on of being at so great a distance from your [...]jesty, and at the same time to envy those [...] are near you. I know not whe­ther [Page 8] those fortunate persons are fully sensible of their Happiness; but, if they have not for your Majesty somewhat that transcends admiration and respect, I shall make no dif­ficulty to rank them amongst the most stu­pid of all undiscerning Animals. For my part, were I in their place, and in a condition to run about the Fields, I should soon act the part of a little Rolando for your sake. True it is, I think I should not fell down, at one single stroak with a Sword, as great Trees as he in Ariosto, and that I should not com­mit so much waste; and yet my extrava­gances might occasion more divertisement than his, though they were not so much to be fear'd; nay haply they would raise no less compassion. You see, Madam, that I make sufficient advantages of the permis­sion your Majesty hath been pleased to give me, as an unregarded Gallant, to make that Courtship to the greatest Queen that ever was, which that Skipping-Master did to a Queen that never was. 'Twas prudently done of your Majesty to give it me, since [...] was resolv'd to have taken it my self, an in case you had deny'd it me, you would have found your self disobey'd by a Perso [...]who would not do it in any thing else, [...]ough it cost him his life. But, devesting [...] of your [Page 9] Majesty, Madam, you are an admirable per­son. In all places wherever you come, your Eyes make you more Subjects than a great Kingdom had given you; and if they do of themselves all we have seen done by them, without your taking the trouble of giving them any instructions, it must be acknow­ledg'd, that the World affords not any that are more beautiful and more attractive, but withal more dangerous. Hence it comes, that, in all the Persons who visit me, I ob­serve a certain Rivalship in the expressions they make of your Empire over them; but the particular Miracle your Majesty hath wrought is upon the Ladies, who though naturally inclin'd to envy all others, con­spire in an unanimous acknowledgment of your perfections. Madam, I should dread being too free with your Majesty, were I not assur'd, that you know better than any per­son in the World, how great a dose of Icarus, and Ixion goes into the composition of a Po­et, and that the History of those two teme­rarious attempters, though the close of it be not much to the advantage of those poor Merchants of Immortality, is that, of all the Fables, which best pleases them, and is of most use to them. There is not any much applauded Poet, but would prefer the re­putation [Page 10] of being a Modern Ixion, before that of turning a stanza well, and an Hero­ick Confidence (so they call their Platonick and Contemplative Love) before Laurel, or Money, or both. But, Madam, possibly I play the wanton with the Command your Majesty hath laid on me to write to you, if I have not already done it. I am therefore to beg this favour, if your Majesty be pleas'd to afford me the continuance of this Honour, that I may know, to what degree of free­dom my Letters may aspire, that I may not presume so far on the priviledg you have gi­ven me, as to transgress the limits of that respect which is due to you, from Persons infinitely transcending,

IT was too Noble an adventure, for the most unfortunate of all Men, to be known to your Majesty, and to be the particular object of your Compassion and your Charity. It is to be attributed, not so much to his fault, as his unhappiness, that he is so soon discarded after so favou­rable a hand of good Fortune. He is out of favour with the greatest Queen in the World, his Benefactress; whereof what can be the effect, but that he must submit to the Tyranny of that affliction, which before, with the assistance of such a Patroness, he was in some measure able to struggle with? Can nothing excite a pity in your Majesty towards so disconsolate a wretch; and, while you are liberal of Peace to all the World, can you not shed a little of it into a Breast, full of troubles and distractions, through the loss of your Favour? He is not so far besotted, as to beg any new one of your Majesty; but the sum of his humble Suit is, that you will at length give a check [Page 12] to your indignation, that he may compleat the small remainder of his life, with the Sa­tisfaction of telling the World that he is,

DOes it not argue an excess of Joy in me, to presume writing to your Highness upon your happy return? I must confess, it is so great, that it proves my torment, when, to check it into some moderation, I am guilty of any endeavour to suppress it. And when I permit the dis­coveries of it, men look on it as a Prodigy, that an unhappy wretch who finds it work enough, to support his own particular mis­fortune, should be so highly concern'd in the Publick Felicity, as the most happy and [Page 13] most healthy; and what adds to this gene­ral astonishment, is, that having not the ho­nour of approaching your Highness, and there being so vast a distance between a Prince of Conde, and the Terminus of all in­dispos'd and bed-ridden people, his affection should be so violent towards him, as if he had the perpetual satisfaction of seeing and admiring him. This indeed is a thing meets with as much difficulty of credit, as your Highnesses Victories, and yet is no less certain. And if your Highness could but be induc'd to believe it upon my own word, you would haply afford the ardency of my zeal a kind reception, and be the more con­vinc'd of my being, beyond any Person in the World,

SInce you have had the curiosity to see me, as the Queen of Sweden had before you, it is but just, you should, as she did, give me leave to fall in Love with you, and to give you the Honour of a thing, which it may be is already past depending on your consent. If you imagine I ask any thing of you, which you ought not to grant me, and that I undertake more than I am able to perform, I am content to be reduc'd into the number only of your Friends, and to conceal from you, what other more advan­tageous relation I might be capable of. For without your condescending to that, there will be no occasion of my waiting on you, which will be an extraordinary affliction to me; for I was extreamly desirous to use the utmost of my endeavours and abilities to give you satisfaction. After such a discove­ry, as this is, of my intentions to you, I re­fer it to your own imagination, whether any thing in the World would tempt me to [Page 15] disappoint you. I shall therefore, with much sincerity, give you an account of the good and bad qualities of the Person, whom you are to look on as your humble Servant, as long as he lives. His Body, indeed, as you might have observ'd, is very irregular, inso­much that he is thought a dangerous spe­ctacle to Women with Child. As to the Soul, he is so well content with his own, that he would not make an exchange with any in the World, but your self. When he loves, he does it with such violence, that he is sometimes asham'd of it; and since you must know all, though he be very punctu­al in acquitting himself of the obligations and devoirs of Friendship, yet in one parti­cular he is defective, to wit, that of writing to his Friends. But it is to be consider'd with­al, that he speaks advantageously of them upon all occasions, expressing himself with a kind of fury, and sometimes is so impor­tunate, as to weary out his Auditors; and when he is obliged to vindicate some per­son whom he loves, he can hardly be di­stinguished from a Lion. If you like me upon these qualifications, I am, Body and Soul, at your service. In the mean time, expecting your resolution, in order to your [Page 16] acceptance or rejection of me, I am, nay will be, however you treat me,

IT is possible indeed, that you may have never permitted any one to make a dis­covery of love to you; but that never any durst presume to do it, as it is not a thing dependent on you, so you must give me leave to doubt of it, at least, till you have layd your absolute commands upon me to believe it.

Let us therefore be sincere, Madam, and acknowledge that we have not been so in­genious, as we should, one towards another, at our first correspondence by Letters, and that, if it be impossible, any should ever pre­sume to entertain you with a discourse of Love, being so transcendently beautiful as you are, it is no less, on my side, that have­ing so great a discerning faculty as I am Master of, I should be tamely content with a reduction into the number of your friends, as I had told you. If the end of your Letter approach sincerity, as much as the begin­ing seems to be distant from it, the senti­ments you promise to have for me will hap­ly produce very dangerous effects about the Court, and you will find there will be a certain emulation among some, to cripple themselves. But for my part part, I shall be the Prince of them, since my work is al­ready [Page 18] done, and therefore shall think my self oblig'd, answerably to my Quality, to trans­cend all others in the impetuosity of my Passion, since I have the preheminence, of being first admitted,

I See you are not under any pressure of Affairs in your Kingdom of Bourdeaux, since you have so much leisure as to write to me; or that Mademoiselle de Viger sticks any thing close to your Heart, when you amuse your self in giving me a particu­lar relation of all the noble exploits, she is able to perform either in Peace or War. If the description you have made of her be free [Page 19] from flattery, I must confess, I had rather have broken a leg, than ever have known her, nay though it were such, as that I might venture it at the dancing of a Ball; and I do advise you not to be too familiar with her, since you have not so much time to squander away. But is there, in earnest, any more in it, than that you, having little to do, yet desirous to be doing, have given me an ingenious draught of your own ima­ginations of Beauty, and attributed them all to the Person you were most conversant withal? For you tell me so many things of her, that I should believe but little, were it not for this reflection, that you would not have written me so excellent and so long a Letter, without some design. For, at Paris, it was never believ'd till now, that there was any person at Bourdeaux, whose attractions might raise a Love in Monsieur Guyonet. But upon the reading of your Letter, I am easily induc'd to a perswasion, That if ever Mademoiselle de Viger shall make all the advantages she can of her pow­er, the number of those whom she shall make slaves, will equal that of those whom Guyonet had made unhappy; and she will be fully reveng'd on the poor unhappy men, for all the devastations which that [Page 20] dangerous Guyennian hath committed upon those of her Sex. But dear Sir, consult your own Conscience, and deal sincerely, Is not that serenity and indisturbance of Mind, which you magnifie above all things, somewhat concern'd in the case, when you make an open profession of having so vio­lent Inclinations for her? For my part, were I still, as you say,

and were, as I now imagine you to be, on the Banks of the Garonne, where it kindly contributes to the production of so many Flowers to strew your Walks, it would cost me at the least two or three thousand disturbances, seven or eight hundred jea­lousies, some handfuls of the hair of my head, and a quart or two of warm tears; for I have now lately receiv'd the gift of tears as well as you, and I dare compare with you for matter of weeping, though it be known, you have been as remarkable for it, as the Prophet Jeremy. But to return to Mademoiselle de Viger, 'tis a misfortune to be lamented, that she should be wiser then Solomon. There are indeed some men [Page 21] would be guilty of a great extravagance for her, as the Queen of Sheba was for him. For example, I my self, who am not so wise as the Son of Barsabe, as she told you, and yet think her a more amiable Person than that Queen of Ethiopia, would take Bour­deaux in my way, upon no other design, then that of seeing her, if I go next Spring to Barages, as I have some intentions to do. But my Dog of a Destiny will hurry me about a month hence towards the West-Indies: or rather, I am afraid to be shov'd out of Europe, into America, like a piece from one end of a Sheffle-Board to the other, by a sort of importunate and insup­portable persons, a sort of Excrescencies of Paris, who call themselves, the Leigers of Wit and Drollery. The Question among them, is not, Whether a man be well prin­cipled, well inclin'd, or of an obliging de­portment, and good carriage; but whether he be one of the Leigers of Wit and Drollery. There are a certain number of persons who would attempt to give them a shove; but they were told, the more ingenious among them make it their bragg, That they are approv'd by a great Princess, whose Per­fections of Mind equal the transcendency of her Quality, and that they are so vain, as [Page 22] to bring her name in, to countenance the gingling productions of their Wit. Had it not been for this consideration, there would have been a party ready to have risen up against them. And this is all the account, I can give the most ingenious of my Euro­paean Friends, of my departure hence for America. I have in order thereto put a Thousand Crowns into the hands of a new Company design'd for the Indies, which goes to plant a Colony within three degrees of the Line, along the Rivers of Orillana and Orinoca. Farewel France; Farewel Paris; Farewel Tygresses disguis'd in the shape of Angels▪ Farewel Menagius's, Sarrazins, and Marignis. I renounce all future Com­merce with Burlesque Poetry, Comical Ro­mances, and Comedies; I am now bound for a Countrey where I shall not meet with any counterfeit Saints, nor Cut-purses of devo­tion, no Inquisition, no Winter to rack me to death, no defluxion to cripple me, nor Warr to starve me; but a perpetual freedom of Converse, sincerity of acquain­tance, and all the enjoyments of the Gol­den Age. And yet amidst all these, I dare assure you, nothing shall debauch me into an oblivion of my obligations to you; and that when I write to you next from my [Page 23] Palace in the West-Indies, I shall close with an acknowledgment of my being, as much as ever,

I Am very much oblig'd to a certain thing called Instinct; for that would be al­ways suggesting to me that the little Lady, whom I saw coming into my Cham­ber, about six months since, in a garment somewhat of the shortest, in respect of the mode now regnant, and who presently fell a crying, I know not upon what occasion, was no less ingenious, than her countenance gave her out. The Letter you have written to Mademoiselle de Saint Hermant, is so highly ingenious, that it argues a great decay of Wit in me, not to have observ'd soon enough the accomplishment of it in you. To be sin­cere with you, I could never have imagin'd, that in the Islands of America, or among the [Page 24] Nuns of Niort, any should be taught the Rules of writing so excellently well; and I am extreamly put to it, to find some co­lourable pretence, why you should make it your business to conceal ingenuity, when others are so over-forward to make all the discoveries they can of it. Now therefore that you are known, you should make as lit­tle difficulty of writing to me, as you have done to Mademoiselle de S. Hermant. I shall use my utmost endeavours, to write a Let­ter comparable to yours, and you will have the satisfaction to see, that, if I come short of you in point of Wit, I will not of any other, in being

YOur satisfaction has cost me abun­dance of misery; for what Recipes, and Diet-Drink, and Physical Directions have I been the Butt of, only out of a compliance with the Command you had laid on me, not to dye, till you had seen me! And yet, Madame, all this strictness, all my patient obedience to those who exercis'd their ab­solute power of life and death upon my body, hinders not my being still in a dying condition, out of an impatience to see you. Had you taken an exact measure of your own forces and mine, this would not have happen'd. You Ladies of prodigious merit imagine there is no more to be done, but to command. We indispos'd persons have not so much the disposal of our Lives. Be therefore satisfy'd to occasion their death who see you sooner then they would, with­out prolonging their lives, who see you not so long as you wish they should; and blame none but your self, if I obey not the first com­mand you ever laid upon me, since you have [Page 26] hasten'd my death, and that there is great likelihood, that, to please you, I should have been as willing to have liv'd a hundred years, as any other man. But is it not in your power to change the manner of my death? I should not be a little oblig'd to you. All these deaths of impatience and love are not for my turn, much less suitable to my humour; and if I have wept a hun­dred times for persons who have dy'd upon that account, though I knew them not, imagine what I shall do for my self, who ever made account to have a little of my own humour at my death. But it is im­possible for a man to elude his destiny; and so I am convinc'd, that, whether you be near me, or at a great distance from me, you are the occasion of my death. All the comfort I have, is, that, if I had seen you, the very thought of it would have added to the torment of my dissolution. They say you are a dangerous Lady, and that they who look not on you with a certain cir­cumspection, are presently taken sick, and carry'd away within a short time. I there­fore submit to the death you have assign'd me, and I heartily forgive you. Farewel Madam, I die your most humble Servant; and I pray Heaven, the divertisements you [Page 27] expect to find in Britany, be not disturbed, by a remorse, of having been the execu­tioner of a person, who had never offended you:

The last Verse should have rim'd to one of the other two; but at the point of death, a man's thoughts are more taken up with dying well, than riming well. And so be­ing ready to expire, I have only time to— recommend—my self—

IT was no hard matter for me to find by your Letter, that I had written a very impertinent one to you: but it was not the first that ever I writ, when I and my Wits were at some distance; and I am not so highly conceited of my own Prudence, as to presume it will be the last that I shall write while I live. The first time I ever come abroad, I will endeavour to crawl for your pardon: Mean time, Madam, you may assure Mademoiselle Meusnier, that though she hath said of me a hundred false things, which have brought me to the knowledg of many true ones concerning her, I am ready to put the Maid-Servant she com­plains of, into the hands of the Magistrate, and, what you will hardly believe, that this wicked Maid, whom she charges to have sold what she could justly call her own, is more forward to appear before the Judges, than she her self. But, Madam, I am some­what afraid that I shall be taken at my word; [Page 29] yet shall I not retract what I have said. She may present her Petition when she pleases; if the Maid be guilty, I shall be the first to sollicite against her. For your self, Madam, as you are good, and generous, you cannot forbear pitying a Mother that has lost her Daughter, or rather that was desirous to have lost her: And for her, if her Neigh­bours speak truth, she could do no less then surprize you. And, for my part, Madam, I shall give you no further trouble, but that of assuring you how infallibly I am,

FOr the discharge of my own tender Conscience, I must needs tell you, That you know not what you do, when you make me a proffer of your Friendship, and [Page 30] are so desirous, as you seem to be, of mine Though it be habitual in you to do good actions, yet that of wishing well to a person so discarded to misfortune, as I am, requires a generosity, which you will find more dan­gerous in the exercise of it, than you ima­gine. I find little for you to hope from it, and much to fear, and therefore I advise you not to undertake it, how great soever my advantages be thereby. This heretofore cost Armentieres his life; and not long since, poor Haucourt run the same fate; not to mention to you divers others, whom I could name to you, not of your acquaintance, and whom Death would not haply have snatcht away so soon hence, had they not been over­forward to express their love to me. Must I yet give you more examples, to assure you that my misfortune is contagious? Let these few suffice. Cardinal Richelieu dy'd within a month after my being known to him, and that I was thought so happy as to please him. The Prince of Orange had no sooner discover'd his desires of making me some Present, but he fell sick of the Small Pox, and dy'd. The President de Mesme did not long out-live the Visit he made me, in a Chamber three Stories high. In fine, my acquaintance, if it come to any degree [Page 31] of Friendship, is so sure a losing cast to those who have it, and of so sudden a Disastre, that it is beyond my apprehension, how the Cardinal de Retz hath got into that Emi­nency, against Wind, Water, and Weather, at a time when it was the general perswa­sion, that he had a certain esteem for me. After all these deterring examples, if your heart couragiously persist in its resolution, I am, Body and Soul, yours. I am not so deeply besotted as to refuse my good for­tune, and the Friendship of a Person, whom I passionately love, as well upon the account of his merit, as my own natural inclination. Yet can I not disburthen my self of a com­passion for the hazard you run into; for I once more tell you, That I am a Mail, which open'd, you will find stuff'd only with mis­fortune; and consequently how fatal may prove to you being,

TO offer your Majesty a Comedy, and that of my Composure, is to make you a Present infinitely below your Worth and Quality: Only▪ I have this plea, That every one ought to be tax'd according to his abi­lities, for the payment of the Tribute due to you, from all those who make it their con­cern to write in the present age. In that of Augustus, men paid in Verse and Prose the same Tribute to the Patron of the Virtuosi, the deceas'd Mecenas, whom your Majesty knows, better than I, by the general con­sent of all the Poets, to have been a very gallant Person. But how highly soever his Name may have been celebrated in the World, all the advantage he now hath of your Majesty, is only that of Precedence; and I would confidently venture all the lit­tle estate I have in the Kingdom of Parnas­sus, that your Majesty would have defeated all his Designs, and forc'd him to exaspera­tion, as your Father the Great Gustavus [Page 33] would have done his Master Augustus, had they been to dispute the Empire of the Uni­verse. But, Madam, if it be pardonable in a Person so much the object of pity, upon the account of Misery, as I am, to put questi­ons to a great Queen, as you are, I would know, whether it be not sometimes incom­modious to your Majesty to be so highly a Heroine as you are? Extraordinary Me­rit hath also its inconveniences, and all these Dedicatories of Books, which we Poets would have to pass for Incense, with those whom we pretend to Heroify, are not always of the same value, nor have the same effect. There are some of those Drugs cast forth but little perfume, though much smoak; and I my self am in suspence, whe­ther what I offer your Majestie, will pass in your Court for Spanish Balls, or com­mon ones. The late Prince of Orange made use of them heretofore, and was ne­ver the worse for it: if your Majestie think them worth your approval in any degree, be not sparing of them; since all I have now left is only for Her, whom all the World unanimously acknowledges to have surpass'd in Merit all the Princes of past Ages, to eclipse all of the present, and to be an Example to those of the future. And [Page 34] this is as true, as it is true, that I passio­nately am,

I Leave it to such as can, make greatest braggs of Health, and are most concern'd in your Affairs, to be more joyful than I am, at the recovery of your Liberty. I thought once to have said, That your Emi­nency could not have been more glad of it than I am; but that had been an extrava­gant expression. For the different traverses of Fortune make no disturbance in the Calmness and Serenity of your Mind; and if Adversity find you always on your Feet, Prosperity does not force you to go ever the faster. In fine, you are now, my Lord, got out of that obscure Dungeon, where you [Page 35] were so inconveniently lodg'd; and me­thinks (not derogating from the respect I owe those in whose power it is to assign such Lodgings) they are not well read in the Ceremonies of Entertainment, since they bring you out with a much greater respect and complement, then they had conducted you into that enchanted Palace. The applauses they receive for the latter will haply raise in them an inclination of receiving often the like: Heaven grant it be so, and me the happiness to see your Eminency at a place, where I may be heard, from my own Chair to yours, assuring you, that I am more than ever,

I Hear of your falling ill of a Tertian, if it come to a Quartan Ague, we shall have work enough for a whole Winter; for you [Page 34] [...] [Page 35] [...] [Page 36] are not to question, but it will be as much a torment to me, as it is to you. I pray let me know how many fits you have had al­ready, and what account your Physitians give of it, since you are like to see them first; and certainly it is a very extraordi­nary accident, that you know some things of me, four or five days before I hear them my self. I must needs have a great confi­dence of my strength, rack'd with affliction as I am, when I concern my self in, and par­ticipate of yours. I know not whether it had not been more prudently done of me, to have been distrustful of you, the first time that ever I saw you. I should have done so, and judg'd of it by the event: but what likelihood was there, that a young Maid should disturb the quiet Impotency of an old Batchelour, or ever fall under a suspi­tion of having given me so great a tempta­tion, as that I should regret my not being in a condition to revenge my self? But away with flattery; I know you are sick, but not, whether you are so carefully at­tended as you should be. This very disquiet adds much to the trouble and affliction it is to me, that I am forc'd to love, and at the same see that it is the greatest madness in the world to do so? Ever and anon an hu­mour [Page 37] takes me to venture on a Journey in­to Poitou, through all the present extremity of weather, and many briars and thorns by the way, which if it can be effected in me otherwise than by Witchcraft, I shall side with the Modern Scepticks and Deists, and believe there never was any such thing. Return then, in the Name of God, return hither, and think it high time, when I am come to that degree of distraction, as to re­gret absent Beauties. I should have under­stood my self better, and consider'd, that I endure pain and torment enough, to become an absolute Crippple from head to foot, without being possess'd of that diabolical grief, called The Impatience to see you. 'Tis one of the most cursed sort of evil spirits. Do I not see how he torments poor Mon­sieur [...] upon no other account, then that he sees not you, as often as he would, though he does it daily? The Letters he writes to us discover the despairing condi­tion he is in, and I dare at this present lay a Wager on his damnation, not upon the score of his being a Heretick, but that of his loving you. Yet methinks you should dis­cover some moderation in your conquests and think of some cessation of your hosti­lity:

But why should I bring in my self as one of the Martyrs of your Cruelty? Be not so fond as to imagine any such thing, but ra­ther that you are happy not to have ought to do with me. You will haply laugh at my menaces: but know, scornful Beauty, that there will be found some gallant Men, to engage in a service wherein the Publick is concern'd. Tell me, my darling, Have you renounc'd Christianity, and embrac'd Mahumetisme, that you seem to make the destruction of Mankind your divertise­ment? It must certainly be so; and yet there is one Humour remarkable in the more civiliz'd and religious part of the Turks, which is, that they are much addict­ed to Alms; but you are far from it, and have not the least charity in the world even for those who love you. You are therefore of no value, though you are made up of an in­termixture of good and bad things. You verifie the Proverb beyond any one, That all is not Gold that glisters; and now it may [Page 39] be said, That all Devils are not black. And yet (see the Prerogative of Beauty) I can­not forbear acknowledging my self, more than any other,

I Have understood from Monsieur du Pin, how kindly you have sollicited his Ma­jesty on my behalf, and what good offices you have endeavour'd to do me at Court, where your influence being so great, no doubt what you attempt will prove accord­ingly successful. All I have to offer to your consideration in this particular, is that you may find the opposing of my cross for­tune a harder task than at first sight you imagine; since I cannot but fear it will give [Page 40] you the dissatisfaction of not compassing, once in your life, what your generosity had engag'd you to undertake. Yet, howe're you come off, my obligations to you will be as transcendent, as they can possibly be in a Person who has hardly the honour of being known to you, who never did you any service, who is incapable of doing any, and whom nevertheless you will needs take into your protection. Should I not be high­ly sensible of these surprizing kindnesses, there were no colourable excuse to be made for me, but that the wretchedness of my condition had reduc'd me to a more than ordinary stupidity. On the contrary, I am a great admirer of such persons as you are, and I begin to be troubled, that the ap­proaching period of my life, will prevent my full knowledg of yours, which I should study with as much satisfaction, as I have done all those of the most Illustrious Men. Though I was never guilty of any natural inclination to be a great Courtier, yet am I one of those persons in the World, to whom some of the greatest in the King­dome have many times made promises, and for the most part broken them. But that misfortune, attended by many others, shall not hinder by being content with my For­tune, [Page 41] if you are satisfy'd how intirely I am,

I Am not dead, as the other eight Canons are, whose Prebendaries you have lately dispos'd of, and yet you have also given away mine. I should be much troubled, if they were no otherwise dead than I am; not but that I have a sufficient charity for my Neighbour; but if they had not been dead, Monsieur Costard, and Monsieur de l'Eslée, who haply are yet my Friends, would not have been Arch-Deacons and Canons. I know not how I came to put in that word haply; haply I had not us'd it, if I had con­sider'd what I was doing. If ever I have the honour to write to you again, I will send you the first draught of my Letter, lest I put any thing into it offensive to my Con­science. But to return to my Prebendary, [Page 42] since you have dispos'd of it, you ought to give me another for it, though it were only to make me some requital, for the time I have lost, in relying on the promises of your deceas'd Uncle, of happy Memory, and little mindfulness of his word. You know well enough what you have to do; but if I were in your condition, I should bestow a Benefice on a Person that were in mine. And indeed you have a sure Expedient to procure a vacancy, without burthen to your Conscience, or injury to good Manners, as was done by a Regular Eunuch named Mor­tier, Abbot of Marmoustier, and Uncle to the Abbot of Euron. This Master-Monk took occasion to poison a score of Priors at one Dinner; which Accident occasion'd the publishing of a Book, intituled, The Method of procuring a Vacancy of Benefices, written by the Reverend Father in God &c. 'Tis a palpable sign that Old Age steals upon me, since I fall into the humour of telling little Stories. But it is in the Night time, and the Clock has struck Twelve, and the La­verdins, who are great Talkers, are no lo­vers of those who are so liberal of that Ta­lent as themselves; and for my part, I am one of the greatest talkers of any within the compass of my acquaintance. It seems al­so, [Page 43] by this Letter, that I am liberal enough in that of writing, and that I think the rec­koning of my Cenfession will not be much enflam'd, by this dallying with one of the higher degrees of Reverence. Yet there is one thing I must not at this time forbear minding you of, now that you are in the Kingdom of your Fathers. It is, that you are to remember, my Friend Menagius, with all his great worth, hath very little advan­tage from the Revenues of the Church, and that you ought to procure his participation thereof. I am by this minded also of an ob­livion of my own in this Letter, which is, that I have not scatter'd, My Lord, in seve­ral places of it, a complement due to a Pre­late, as you are. But I shall not hereafter be chargeable with that omission, and if ever I write to you, I shall do it with all requisite Ceremonies, assuring you in the mean time, that I am,

YOu have made me rich in despight of Fortune, by compassing your ad­vancement to the Cardinal's Hat, with the defeating of all their Projects, who envy'd you that Grandeur. I have hazarded all my Estate in Wagers that you would attain that Dignity; it must therefore be mightily improv'd, if I have to do with Persons of Honour and tender of their engagements. 'Tis my humble Suit to Heaven, That yours may have the like augmentation, according to what disposal the Divine Providence shall think most convenient. Nor is it likely to be tedious in giving this Promotion of yours its full accomplishment, and that your new Dignity will be compleated with all the additional dependencies consequent thereto, for the conviction of all the World, that the Hand which made the Cardinals of Amboise and Richelieu, had not yet shewn all it could have done. Mean time, I only beg your assurance, that whether in France, the Indies, or what Climate soever my un­happy [Page 45] Destiny disposes of me, I shall ever passionately be,

IT may be you conceive a great self-satis­faction, when you reflect on your gene­rosity. Dislodge that fond imagination; it is the most incommodious quality an Eminent Person can be guilty of, when he is so imprudent as to spin out his divertise­ment, in the company of such a Wretch as I am. We Writers are a strange sort of people; for where we are once oblig'd, we are importunate all the daies of our lives after. You bestow'd on me some days since the Works of Monsieur de Voiture; I am now to begg of you a thing of greater im­portance. I am acquainted with some Lords, whose countenances would change at these last words of my Letter; but they [Page 46] are not so terrible, as to frighten or startle a Duke de Retz; and I durst be sworn, he is as impatient to know what I desire of him, as I am assur'd of obtaining it. 'Tis this: A young Gentleman, whose name I find in the Catalogue of my choicest Friends, and one who at the age of twenty years hath been concern'd in twenty engagements, as noble as that of the Horatij and Curiatij, and hath as great a reputation of Prudence as Gallantry, hath kill'd a vapouring Bragga­dochio, by whom he was forc'd to a Duel. He cannot procure his Pardon any where but in Paris, and he would fain be in safety there, meerly out of a repugnance he hath, to the severing of his head from the shoul­ders. I could prevail for his reception into the Palace of a great Prince; but for his entertainment there, as to provision, I can promise nothing; and I think starving a greater misfortune, than to be in fear of ha­ving ones Throat cut by an Officer appoin­ted for that purpose. But if you afford him the Sanctuary of your Roof, he will be in a condition to defie both; and you will have no small satisfaction, in taking into your protection a young Gentleman so much de­serving it. Besides, you will have the grea­test pleasure in the World, in seeing Can­dles [Page 47] snuff'd with Pistol-bullets, as often as you shall think fit to be a spectator of that Divertisement: And I question not, but you will give me thanks, being as you are, the most generous of all Dukes, for finding you out so noble an occasion to exercise your Generosity; and I for my part, promise to supply you with the like as often as I can, and that, as soon as you have granted me what I now desire, I shall importune you daily, to imploy your interest and that of your Friends, to procure the pardon of mine. The Burlesque Muse will not be silent upon the obtaining of this favour, but will ac­quit her self well enough of an acknowledg­ment thereof; though hitherto she hath been little put to it upon a subject of this nature. I beg your pardon a thousand times for the tediousness of my Letter, and as often kiss your hands, remaining,

WHile you are taking your diver­sions in the Country, and haply killing Horses, in the pursuit of Hares, we have wanted your good wishes at a Wedding; which hath united two Warlike Nations, between whom the height of the Apennines made not so great a di­stance, as the difference of their Humours. I needed not to have sent you this Newes, since it is not to be imagin'd, but you know it already; yet since there is a necessity of my writing to you, I thought it not impro­per to begin with that great piece of Intel­ligence, meerly out of this reflection, that, if all other Records fail, Posterity may find the time of so remarkable an occurrence by the date of my Letter to you. Your next observation will be, that, notwithstanding this strange revolution, the City of Paris is much at the same rate as when you left it; that, for one rational person, there are a hundred thousand that are not such, nor [Page 49] ever will be; and that this is as true of the Women, as the Men. There is another in­convenience consequent to the removal of the Court; which is, That they who smell of their dirty Shops where ere they go, pre­sume to take the Wall of all they meet, and plead the prerogative of Birth and Breed­ing in the greatest City in the World. No Quarter of it, but has a Poet, good or bad; nor House, where Company hath access, but is pester'd with vain and superfluous Tal­kers. Of these, mine hath the precedence, and I must bear all, without any other re­medy than that of bemoaning my self, to see the afflictions of my Mind bear some pro­portion to the infirmities of my Body. For my part, the decaies of my condition are daily more and more observable, and I feel my self tow'd to my end faster than I could wish. I have a thousand pricking pains, or rather a thousand Legions of Devils in my Arms and Legs, and yet in that condition, I cannot reproach my self with any remission in the love I bear you. I know not how far it may contribute to that of my pain; but this I am certain of, that you owe me a great measure of Esteem and Friendship, and that, if you do me Justice, I shall have this to bragg of, that, towards the period of [Page 50] my days, I have made so advantageous an acquaintance as yours. I might very well think this a fair acquest, for a Person who cannot stirr from the place where he is set, and give a check to all further ambition; but you have given me so excellent a Cha­racter of Monsieur Manchini, that I shall never acquit you of the promise you have made me of the honour to be known to him. Yet must it be with this precaution, That he be not a man of many comple­ments; for when I am forc'd to make any my self, or to receive them from others, I cannot forbear weeping, and am put out of countenance, to think what a loss they also are at, who will needs display their Elo­quence, when they have to do with the ob­ject of universal compassion. In a word, I have as great an aversion for Complements, as most people have for Serpents, and Toads; and to assure you it is so, I shall conclude my Letter without making you any, and put a short period to a long Letter, by telling you that I am,

I Must acknowledg my self orepress'd by the weight of so great an honour as that of being so much in the remembrance of a Prince; and that though I am the most wretched, and the most froward person that ever was, yet there have been general ob­servations made of my alacrity, since I have receiv'd your assurances, that his Highness found some diversion in the reading of my Letters. I must impute it to a strange ha­zard, that they should be thought pleasant at Brussels,; for he who writ them at Paris is a Person the most apt to be out of humour of any in the world. And who, with a mis­chief could be otherwise, plac'd in the same circumstances as I am? True it is, that some express a certain esteem for me; many take occasion to compassionate the hardness of my Fortune; but how few endeavour to alleviate it? In the mean time

WHen I bethink my self, that I was once handsome enough to deserve the re­spects of the Bois-Roberts of my time; when I reflect that I have been healthy enough till the Twenty seventh year of my age, to have drunk after the rate of a German; that I am still as sound within, as that I can drink of all Liquors, and eat of all sorts of Meat, with as much unreservedness and indiffe­rence, as the greatest Epicureans; when I bethink my self, that my apprehensions are not faint, pedantick, or impertinent; that I am free from ambition and avarice, and that if Heaven had continu'd me the use of those Legs, which have perform'd their part well in a Dance, and those hands which have been well skill'd in Drawing, and playing on the Lute; and in fine a very streight Body; so that I might have liv'd a happy, though somewhat an obscure life; I assure you, my dear Friend, that if it had been lawful for me to have been my own Executioner, I had long since wafted my self in a Socratick draught into the other World. Nay I am somewhat of a perswa­sion, that I must come to it in time.

This shall be the last sally of my Poetick vein, it lay so heavy on my heart, that I could not be at ease, till I had disburthen'd my self of it. And to make you further re­paration for the trouble I give you by the peevishness of this Letter, I send you six Stanza's which I have added to the Baro­nade. The News spread abroad of the Spa­nish Paralytick, who is to challenge me up­on the score of reputation, hath found those whom I have acquainted with it very good sport. There has not yet been 50000 Li­vers [Page 54] bestow'd in Spanish Grammars, as you say, though the Spanish Tonge was never so corrupted as it hath lately been at Paris. I am extreamly oblig'd to you for the pains you take to supply me with Spanish Come­dies. I wish, &c.

NEver was two-legged or two-handed Creature hurry'd into such a degree of exasperation as I am at this time, that, when you thought I might find his Highness the Prince some divertisement, my claw­like hand is grown so rebellious, that I can­not command it to write. For, as if all my other afflictions were not torment enough to me, I must make what shift I can to tell you, that for above a month now past, I have had a continual conflict with the Gout, which like Prometheus's Vulture has fed upon me without the least remorse, or consideration of my other infirmities. And what do you imagine I can do amidst the racking twitches it gives me? Or how [Page 55] should I resent the malicious visit it makes me at this time, when the Prince himself is expos'd to the jerks of the same inexorable disease? All I can do, is to fancy to my self, that I come not behind Job in miseries, though I may do it in patience. It makes me so inventive in the faculty of swearing, that I think, without ostentation, I could out-swear any man in France; though at other times, I place that amongst the most superfluous Transgressions, and I must ac­knowledg it to be so now, for any thing I am the better for it. Certainly, if the greatness of the torment which occasions it, does not expiate the crime, as I can hear, so shall I in the next World be the most wret­ched of all Mankind. For sometimes my furious transports are so like those of a dam­ned Soul, that if a commanded party of De­vils were coming for me, I think I should endeavour to meet them half-way. I doubt they are coming, for I begin to feel the first accesses of a dreadful fit, and therefore must take a short leave of you, and leave you to imagine the rest with &c.

YOur writing to me has given me the greatest satisfaction I could have ex­pected. My generous Friends are all the Estate I have in this World; and when you assure me that you are of that number, I cannot forbear assuring you again, That you give me a greater occasion of rejoycing, than I shall derive from the General Peace, which is now so near its conclusion. The comparison will possibly, at first sight, seem weak to you, and I must acknowledg, that the Affairs of Europe might change face a hundred times, ere ever mine look any better. But I am over head and ears in desires, to see your Prince once more in France, though it were only for this reason, That France is this Year but poorly fur­nish'd with Princes, and yet there are as many as ever there were, and the subse­quent years will haply prove no better than this: and if I have my satisfaction in that, I shall have it also, in embracing my tall, my corpulent, and my fat Monsieur [...]. For [Page 57] I question not, but strong Beer has made some additionals to his former bulk. But is it possible, the great and Heroick Condé should know, that I am yet among the li­ving? My Friend Guenault told me so, and that he had seen lying upon his Table the Second Part of my Comical Romance. It put me into such an humour, as I never was in twice before; I was so transported with Heroick thoughts of my self, and if my Diseases had not fasten'd me to my Chair, I would have stollen upon him to see how he would have been frighted at the mon­strous appearance of the Author. These Heroes are an odd sort of people, and would be worth the whistling after, if they could but be brought to love the indigent part of Mankind, as well as the others love them. As for yours, he seems to have heroify'd himself a hundred times over, since he has taken upon him the Conduct of our Invin­cible Troops; and it may be said of him, That if he were a great Prophet in his Country, where the Scripture sayes that no man is, he prov'd much more such a one in a strange Country. If he take the pains to read any thing of the five Epistles, in Verse, which you receive herewith, be pleas'd to let me know what he sayes of [Page 58] them. The Melancholy Invective comes piping hot out of my Study, the others were the last Years productions. 'Tis pity the Person who is the subject of it had not been some more notorious Rascal. But this is only a damn'd Tax-gatherer, who owes me six hundred Pistols, and would conscientiously chowse me of that small Summe. You tell me of a Lady that's fal­len in love with me, I intreat you to give her timely notice, that my Diseases have rendred me of so irregular a Figure, that Women with Child are forbidden access to me, for fear of Monstrous Births, and Miscarriages. But for your part, I adjure you to be kind to

YOu are not to be so much bemoan'd by others, as you imagine to your self, since that if your absence, or exile, or what else you pleas'd to call it, were not volun­tary, you might easily find an occasion to quit the Campagne: But it is to be fear'd, that some beautiful Eyes at Xaintonge have made a conquest over yours, and you have the ambition to have your Military Trophies interwoven with Points de Venize. Your Friends therefore here are much more to be bemoan'd than you are, and their com­plaints are more pressing. For my part, I am clearly dash'd out of all countenance. When you were pleas'd to honour me with your Visits, I thought it the greatest happi­ness I could make by braggs of. The appea­rance of your Coach at my little door ren­dred it venerable to all the Inhabitants of the Street I live in; and I am told, that it procur'd me the envy of several great Gates, whose Owners think themselves better ac­commodated to entertain Persons of your [Page 60] Quality. Nay, the standing of Rincy's Coach at the same place some time since, does still keep my Neighbours in awe: but it is to be fear'd, that they will forget them­selves again, if some Courtiers make not a speedy return to Paris, and, till yours hap­pen, keep up our glory and repute, which, for want of such Visitants, is much eclips'd. But though it should be so darkned, as that I might never recover ought of my former lustre, yet is it possible, that a man may be comforted with a little Philosophy. But the case is quite otherwise, when a man is forc'd to be Six months together without seeing the persons he loves. Were it not for the kindness of your writing to me sometimes, I should soon make it known to all the World, by a generous act of despair, that my Heroes are not such Idols, as a fan­tastical humour, or Time can destroy; that Madam Scarron speaks against her Con­science, or knowes not well the internal concerns of a man, with whom she spends the best part of her life, when she tells you, that my affection to you will not last above Six Months. That will be try'd by the effect. But now I speak of Heroes, you tell me, that Monsieur the Surintendant, who is also one of my Heroes, and which is more, my only [Page 61] Benefactor, will take his way through Pons. I question not but you will recommend to him the concerns of your humble Servant, and the conclusion of his fatal Affair. There never was a more favourable opportunity for the settlement of it; Julian Colas the most insolent person that ever got his live­lihood by the retayling of Bread and Wine, and one that would prefer the most despi­cable Carman, or Porter, before the grea­test Virtuoso in the Kingdom, and the only person who obstructed the establishment of my affair, has taken his last draught in this mortal life. The Unloaders are as desirous to see it establish'd, as I am my self. But Monsieur the Surintendant has told our Friend Pelisson, that it could not be com­pleated till after the return of the Court. 'Tis possible, his late being there may have somewhat advanc'd it, and that the most wretched person, of all those to whom he has shewn any kindness, will soon be at some ease in his Mind, and will find himself out of danger of dying, for want of employ­ment for his Jaws. Madam Scarron has been at St. Mandé's. She is extreamly pleas'd with the Civil Entertainment she receiv'd from Madam the Surintendant's Lady; and I find her so smitten with her attractions, [Page 62] that there is some suspition there might be a little touch of impurity in the inter­view. But that danger must be the less, since she cannot wait upon her as often as she wishes, because, for want of a Coach, she cannot go abroad, but when her Friends are pleas'd to take her along with them. I am forc'd to write things to you that have no relation to your Concerns, for want of something that has. When I meet with any more worthy your knowledg, you will hear further from

WE must needs be extreamly exhaust­ed of Advertisements, when we cau only tell you, That Bon-coeur, and Charleval [Page 63] are still in Normandy, and that Madam de Martel, and her Daughter, return'd hither but yesterday. Yet is there a necessity, that I should send you a large Letter, and that I should give some assurance, at least by the endeavours I shall use to divert you, as far as one of my Letters can do it, that it is not altogether my fault, if I do not stand you in some stead. You must therefore give me leave to catch at any thing that of­fers it self: and though the spectacles of the violent dissolutions which are seen at the Greve, are not things that can be recom­mendably communicated to the knowledg of a Person of your Quality, yet shall I not stick, out of pure sterility of matter, to give you an account of what has happen'd there. There has been lately, for several dayes to­gether, so much hanging, and breaking of persons on the Wheel, that the common Executioner himself is weary of his Office, Madam [...] who, next to Monsieur [...] is not so much pleas'd at any sight, as that of publick Executions, begins to be cloy'd with the divertisement, and will hardly be seen this good while in the Greve again. The Martyrs are all of the true Parisian breed, most of them the Sons of that kind of Cooks, who sell only Roast-meat, because [Page 64] they have no convenience for any other way of Cookery. They were convicted of the robbing of Coaches and Sedans, and other Crimes ordinarily committed in the Night-time, and many of other denomina­tions in the faculty of Stealing, are in great danger of dying in the Air. I am to tell you, by way of Digression, That the Cock­neys of Paris, my Countrymen, are valiaut enough, more apt to steal, then beg, as be­ing of a very patibulary inclination. But now I am fallen upon the subject of violent Deaths, I cannot forbear giving you the relation of one, which was not so ignomi­nious, as that of the foresaid Criminals, yet was not less cruel. Before I come into the Story, you are to understand, by way of preadvertisement, that the next subsequent days after Sundays, and Festival days, there is a great scarcity of all Provisions at Cha­renton, and particularly of new bread above all things. 'Twas upon a Munday, not long since, that the Impetuous Du Rincy, the Eloquent Pelisson, the Incomparable Scu­dery, and the Discreet Madam Bocquet, about half an hour past Ten in the Morning, sent a Messenger express to the beautiful Izar, who some days before had retir'd to Cha­renton, for the Air's sake, to tell him, that [Page 65] they would dine with him that day, and that he should not give himself the trouble of getting any thing but a good Potage and a Dessert, for as to Meat they would bring it along with them from the Cooks. Izar, and a certain Advocate of the Counsel, na­med Du Mas, whom he had taken for his Country-Companion, during that retreat, beset and bestir themselves for the more splendid Reception of so great a Party of Il­lustrious Persons, for we do not every day see four such together. To give a greater fortification to the Potage, they put in three Pullets, and a considerable quantity of green Pease; and while a certain person is sent away Post to Bagnolet, for Raspices, they employ the most experienc'd Pastry-Cooks of Charenton, in the making of Tarts and Cakes. The Cloath is laid in the Garden, and to take away the scent of the Lavender, wherein the Linnen had long lain, the Table, Cloth, and Napkins, are all bestrew'd with such Flowers newly gather'd as the Garden afforded. About Noon the Quintescence of all that dare assume to themselves the title Ingenious, or Virtuoso, arrive at Cha­renton. Du Rincy, as soon as he was got out of the Coach, went directly into the Kitchin, where he is little satisfy'd with the [Page 66] Potage, much less with the diligences and sollicitude of Izar and Du Mas, in all the preparations they had made, and speaks thereof with so great indignation, superci­liousness, and authority, that Du Mas began thereupon to respect and to fear him. They who had a mind to wash their hands, did so; and all sate down. Du Rincy slighting the Country-Soupe, would have broke one of the Loaves; but finding it hard and stale, he flings it at an Apricock Tree that stood near him, and renders it uncapable of bear­ing fruit any more, having bruis'd the grea­ter branches of it. He goes to break a se­cond loaf, which he finds of the same date of baking, and consequently as far from being new as the other, and with the same vigour and promptitude he flings it at an­other Tree. In short, with six or seven loaves, which he found equally hard and stale, he lames so many Fruit-Trees, to the great discontent of the Mistress of the house, who made extraordinary clamours at the desolation of her Garden. Du Rincy, in the mean time, was not in the least concern'd at it, save only that he protested, no body should eat, till he had new bread brought him. They sent to all the Bake-houses about the Town, till at last they came to one, [Page 67] where they were taking the bread out of the Oven, which was brought to du Rincy, piping hot, and smoaking, so that the rest of the Company went and gather'd up the loaves amongst the bruis'd branches, which were more eatable than the new bread, which burnt their Lips. The brisk deport­ment of Du Rincy, both as to action and discourse, extreamly surpriz'd the Advo­cate Du Mas, and the imperious Aire of his Countenance was no less dreadful to him. From that very time, he always had Du Rin­cy in his imagination. He never slept with­out turbulent Dreams, and those Dreams were never without Du Rincy. In fine, the very fright he took at the demeanour of du Rincy put him into a Feaver, and that Fea­ver prov'd so violent, that it carry'd him off in less than fifteen days, and he dy'd in a raving and distracted condition, talking per­petually of Du Rincy. And this, my Lord, is all the account of our Concerns, that I can send you at the present. Madam Scar­ron sayes, that she cannot find any inclina­tion in her self to write to you, till she meets with something that is divertive in your Letters. That reflection makes me think, that if you are as much afflicted at Pons, as you were at Paris, my Letter will be imper­tinent, [Page 68] and most unseasonable. But Time, yet much more your own Reason, will ere this have wrought their ordinary effect, upon an affliction that admits of no remedy. I send you my second Epistle. The Areo­pagus of good Judges in this Profession, will have it to be better than the former: but I am not of their opinion. I am still in ex­pectation of the effects of Monsieur the Sur­intendant's fair promises.

AFter the Pastey you were pleas'd to send me, I have also receiv'd your excellent Cheeses. I am apt to ima­gine, that you have made it your design, to sustain us with the best things that can be made, in their kind. Your Liberality has been communicated to all my Fellow-Com­moners, who are not the most inconsider­able persons in the World, upon the score of their good qualities. At the consumption of your Present, we liberally drunk the health of our grand Benefactor. As for the Pastey, it was as good as ever came out of Oven, and the Cheeses were such as the best Dairy in the World, and that order'd by the most experienc'd Dairy-Woman in the World, could have afforded. For my part, without any diminution of the Commen­dations which your noble Presents deserve, give me leave, to recreate my self upon the Letter you were pleas'd to honour me with, and to tell you, that there is not any thing in that kind could have been more gallant, [Page 70] or more ingenious. Among other passa­ges, that, where you tell me, that you leave to those of transcendent Wits the care of di­verting mine, and that you make it your busi­ness, only to divert my gust. I leave it to the most expert in the Chimistry of Comple­ments to write more smartly upon such a subject. By this may it be seen, my Lord, that you have an insatiable ambition, and that not being content with the Military Glory you have acquir'd during the Warr, you would also in the times of Peace carry away from us poor Pensioners of the Pen, the Trophies of Literature. I wish I had somewhat of News to write to you. All the talk about Paris is, that Meneville's sick­ness is very dangerous, and that all the Courtiers are like to return to Paris, save only the Mareschal de Villeroy. Assoon as I have any thing worth the writing to you, I shall make it appear, by that only small service which I am capable to render you, how much I am,

I Have no certain account of your recep­tion of a Letter of Eight and twenty Pages, which I writ to you by the last Ordinary: however, you will excuse me, if this be so much the shorter. And because it is so, it comes to you attended by my Epi­grams against B [...], and tells you withal, that I shall send the Baronade by the next Post. I now send you also a Bal­lad, which may pass Muster; some Verses of M. Benserade's, being a Continuation of those he made upon the Peace; and a Son­net of Exultation, made by a young Lass of Nineteen years of age, whose name is [...]. 'Tis to be lamented that she is not as pretty, as I think her well inclin'd. I expect, with as much impatience as the Jewes do the Messias, the effects of M. the Surintendant's promises. A man may languish, while he hopes: nay somtimes he may suffer; and delayes in such affairs never come to any good, but are for the most part dangerous and prejudicial. But, it was never yet my [Page 72] fortune to obtain any thing of happiness, without the conquest of incredible obstru­ctions. Be pleas'd to pardon this melan­choly reflection, in a wretched person who is ready to starve. Threescore and sixteen days have I been in continual hostility with a hard Frost. The Duke of Orleans is out of all hopes of recovery. Yesterday morning, the Duke of Lorrain took Post for Blots. Villarceau is still a Prisoner in the Bastile, though the Mareschals of France, who con­ducted him thither, had put him in hopes, that he should only make a Visit to the place, and come out again. This is all I have to say to you at the present. If there be any of my Letters which have not been employ'd in the lighting of fire, or put to some other culinary use, I desire you would send them to me. I shall find some fragments therein, which may be ornamental to the Collection I am now putting into the Press. I am,

IT belongs only to those of your House to make the highest demonstrations of kindness and generosity that can be made. Monsieur the Procurator General, your Brother, has settled a Pension upon me, without the least application, or so much as a previous desire on my side, for his so doing; and you were pleas'd to give me a visit, without any person's Solicitation on my behalf, to induce to a guilt of so great a consideration. What can I do less then acknowledge my self your humblest Cap­tive, upon a favour done me with so great a surprize? I would make you a greater present then that of my self, were it in my power; but you must be content with that, since I make it with so good a heart, that you must needs have a very hard one of your own, if you do not vouchsafe it a re­ception, and give me leave withal, while [Page 74] I am in this World, to let it know, that it is not without reason I assume the quality of

IT argues, at the first blush, a great indi­gence of civility, in a person so insigni­ficant and superfluous in the World as I am, to importune you, who are perpe­tually imploy'd about the publick concerns, to do me a kindness. But I conceive my my self to be already in a fair way of re­ceiving somewhat of that nature, and you have already given me so many assurances of the kindness you have for me, and the compassion, which the misfortunes under which I groan, have raised in you, that without using the Mediation of those Per­sons [Page 75] who are most dear to you, and are pleas'd to honour me with their good wishes; I am sufficiently presumptuous, upon the interest I have in you my self, to beg a favour of you. It is one of those which you sometimes grant, as you will find by the Petition you receive herewith, and which I desire you will be pleas'd to look upon a person with all the favour you can. It is for a Relation of my Wifes, re­markable for his constant fidelity to his Majestie's Service, and one who is of an obstinate perswasion, that you have a re­spect for me. It will ly upon you, my Lord, to let him know, that he is not mi­staken; and upon me, to make all France sensible, that you are not only the most experienc'd Person of this Age in State-Affairs, but have also that more endearing quality, of being, of all men, the most ge­nerous, particularly to

I Heard not till yesterday of the great loss that has happen'd to you; and yet, considering the short time I have had to be afflicted thereat, I have acquitted my self as well as those who had the knowledg of it much more sooner than my self. I have great reason to charge Monsieur de Chaulne, with his negligence in not giving me a more timely advertisement thereof, that I might have had the advantage of being one of the first, to make a discovery, how much I am concern'd in whatever relates to you. This no doubt is a mischievous turn, which my implacable ill fortune has done me, alwaies endeavouring to render me deficient iu the duty I owe you, pur­posely to make me unworthy of the assi­stances I receive from you, which are such as I never receiv'd from any other. Mon­sieur des Marés, who yesterday honour'd me with a Visit, will, if he please, assure you of the affliction it was to me, that I should be ignorant of what all the World [Page 77] knew. He put me into the confidence of writing an extemporary Sonnet, which I made some difficulty to send you, out of a fear of renewing your grief. But, at last, I chose rather to run the hazard of doing a thing unseasonably, than that of seeming indifferent in an affliction, whereof you must needs be so sensible I am,

I Was but too true a Prophet, to my sorrow, when I heretofore writ to you, that my misfortune could not be overcome by any person of generosity and prevalence not equivalent to yours. It still stands out against you, though it be a considerable time since you first took it into task. Some eight dayes since my Lord Chancellour was pleas'd to strike out my Fatal Affair, the Proposals made by Mons. Doublet, con­ceiving [Page 78] haply, that it would be a new grie­vance upon the People. It was concern­ing those Persons that should be impowr'd to oversee the unloading of Carts; and it would have been an easie matter, if some would have taken the pains to do it, to make it appear to him, that the function of Unloaders or Dischargers is so far from be­ing a charge or grievance, that it is a pub­lick convenience, and has establish'd it self, time out of mind; that without it, a thou­sand Carts and Waggons would remain at the Gates of the City without getting in, because it is not thought fit that the Wag­goners should be trusted with the Money due for their entrance, and that the Dis­chargers should pay, and be answerable for them, and conduct them to the Houses of Merchants and Citizens, whose habitations the others are ignorant of, and discharge the Commodities at their own perils; That the mony which is given them, is not ex­acted, but voluntarily given, as a kind of Largess, bestow'd only by those that are willing, without any obligation forcing them thereto; And, in short, that it pass'd at the Guild-Hall of the City, assoon as the Provost of Merchants, who, before had op­pos'd it, for want of throughly examining [Page 79] the affair, was fully satisfy'd, that there was a necessity of creating those functions into Offices, and that they ought to be exercis'd, by Persons who had settled habi­tations, and took their Oaths before him, for the due execution of their Charges, because people of all conditions employ'd themselves therein, even to Souldiers of the Foot-Guards; and that while those Rascals were quarrelling at the Gates, to get the custome one from the other, and went a League out of Paris, to prevent one the other's getting of it, the Waggons re­main'd at the Gates, without either being discharg'd, or getting into the City, to the prejudice of Waggoners, and the Merchants. And now, my Lord, I think you are as well instructed in the Affair of the Unloaders, as I am my self; and I would to God, my Lord Chancellor had had the same account of it. I should have sufficiently satisfy'd him therein, if I had had but notice of what has happen'd, or rather, if I had not been afraid to have my name mention'd in that affair, contrary to my intention. My Lord, I beg your pardon for the tediousness of the relatiion I am forc'd to make you, since you might have done well enough without it: but it is always observable, that when a [Page 80] miserable person has some affair wherein he is deeply concern'd, he derives a privi­ledg from that misery, to be talking of it. This is the last hope of my Wife and my self; and I must needs tell you, that I should hardly admit of any consolation, if I did not represent to my self, that I serve a Ma­ster, whose promises are inviolable, and one who is able to do me right. Yet can I not stave off the discontent, occasion'd by so sensible a disappointment. For, my Lord, if you but imagine what will become of us, if this Affair miscarries, you would not be much astonish'd at the despair of Mons. Vissins and my self, since there will be a great probability that our mouths may be sow'd up. By this, you may measure how long I shall be,

I Cannot imagine to my self a better way to requite Monsieur Pelisson for his kindness in speaking to you concerning my Affair, and in giving me an account of the obliging answer you were pleas'd to make him, then in communicating to you the short Complement he has written to me upon it. He therein so handsomely disco­vers the true sentiments he has for you, that I think, I do him a very kind office, by tel­ling you so, without his knowing any thing of it; and yet haply he would be glad that you knew it, provided it were done without his hazarding himself to tell you so. It is a difficult matter to speak of you, even though it were done to your self, without falling into your praises; and it is as difficult to give you any without displea­sing you, and yet much more difficult to forbear giving them. I should therefore wish, as to my own particular, that some body would do so much for me, as to tell you, that you are the most generous Person [Page 82] in the World, and that all the Favours you do me, go infinitely beyond the intreaties I make for them. But will not your Lord­ship suspect the good office which I think to do my Friend, may not have the tincture of some concern to my self? And will you not be apt to imagine, that to shew you his Letter, and give it the great Commenda­tions I do, is, in some sort, a dextrous way of making use of his reflections, that I might the better express my own, with­out running the hazard of doing any vio­lence to your modesty? I must acknow­ledg there is something of that in the wind; but since it has not been in my power to conceal it from you, be pleas'd to imagine, by this ingenuous confession, the sincerity of my Soul, and assure your self, that I am, above all others,

I Am uncertain, whether you will be in a condition to read my Letter. The last time I sent to enquire of your health, the account I receiv'd was, That you were no fully recover'd of an indisposition which had, for some time, confin'd you to your Chamber. It will be no hard matter for you to imagine, what alarms that ill news must bring to a man, who at the present is oblig'd to you for all he has in the World, and who, without you, would be more wretched than he is, though his misfor­tunes be in a manner beyond all example: Those who have honour'd me with their love, as you have done, may have been themselves fully satisfy'd, that my affection for them has been very great, and it is not to be thought, that I should now begin to be ungrateful, towards the most generous Person of all those who ever had pity on me. I think every hour a thousand, till I get to Paris, to take my Oath of fidelity to you, which I have not yet done. Mean [Page 84] time, I humbly beseech you to compleat the Favour, whereof you have made a be­ginning in the business of the Waggons, and to procure that Justice be done to those, to whom that Affair has been con­firm'd. Monsieur Poncet will make a Re­port of it on Saturday next, if the Councel sits. They who are prosecuted are fully convinc'd, that there are above four thou­sand Livers due to the King; and it is a concern that may extend much further, as you will find by the account which the Bearer of this Letter is able to give you of it. I am,

IF there be not some great self-satisfacti­on in obliging people, I know not upon what grounds you should do me any kind­ness. [Page 85] I am not a person any way useful to you, and I dare not wish that I were, lest I should make a wish that might be disad­vantageous to you. Nor am I so fondly conceited of my self, as to hope that I can contribute much to your divertisement, since I cannot have the honour of coming near you, or making my self otherwise known to you, then as all others know me, to be, even in this life, not much inferiour in torments, to a damned Soul, and some­times by the making of Books, that is (by the permission of God Almighty) by being one of the greatest inconveniences that can happen to Mankind. But though I should be Master of some Qualities that were more considerable, and though a particular ac­quaintance of many years standing should have brought me into some favour with you, and that I should cultivate that favour by a constant Commerce of Letters; yet would all this amount to little, if the Affairs of the publick Ministery be so pressing upon you, as that you cannot afford them the reading. Well, my Lord, these Reflections give me a great deal of trouble, as often as the remembrances of your Liberality raise them in me; and I am extreamly out of countenance, to think that I cannot pre­serve [Page 86] my self in your memory, otherwise then by the miserable Productions of a Mind, which, by reason of a Body much more miserable, and a Destiny yet more mi­serable than that ruin'd Body, must not ever expect much tranquility. But, now I speak of those Productions of the Mind, am I to believe, that you lik'd my Fable of Hero and Leander? Monsieur de Chaulne would perswade me to believe it; but pos­sibly, it was only his kindness to flatter an indispos'd person. I humbly beg your Lord­ships condescention so far, as to give me under your own hand an approbation of it, which I shall prefer before that of all the Academists in the World, or that by your Censure thereof, I may so much the better know my self. Howere it happen, I am,

THe favour you were pleas'd to do me, in not slighting the Comedy which I dedicated to you, was enough to induce me to be absolutely at your disposal, with­out any necessity of your having engag'd me further by a new obligation. I think it one way to give you my thankfulness for it, when I acknowledg, that I cannot suf­ficiently do it; and that I more fully ex­press my resentment by that confession, than by all the Complements in the World. I am,

I Am so far from deserving the kindness you have lately done me, that I should have been much surpriz'd thereat, if I had not already receiv'd other assurances of your Liberality, or if I were the only per­son in the Nation who knew not, that you are continually obliging all the World. All I desire at present is, to conjure you into a perswasion, that the resentments I have thereof, are the greatest I am capable of. But, my Lord, if, on the one side, I am over­joy'd to see that all the Affairs of State, the management whereof lies upon your shoul­ders, divert you not from thinking of mine; so, on the other, it is no small affliction to me, that I can neither forbear speaking of your munificence, without ingratitude, nor publish it without raising a certain jealousie, that it is not so much out of inclination, as interest, that I have ever been, and ever shall be,

WE never saw any Surintendant in France belov'd and esteem'd, as you are; and the reason is, that we have not seen any so generous and obliging, as you are: but I doubt you pay dearly for it, and that cannot acquire so noble a reputation, without the enduring of great importuni­ties. For my part, it would be a continual remorse to me, that I have been importu­nate through the whole course of my life, and that I am not in a way to reform, if I did not at the same time see the wealthiest persons, and those of the highest quality, beg favours of you with less reservedness and caution than I do, though they have not so much right to pretend to your kind­nesses, as such an unfortunate man as I am, whom you have promis'd to give his Mind some tranquility. That, my Lord, is an enterprize worthy your great Self, and that you may the sooner be satisfy'd that you have compleated it, I recommend to you my Concerns in the Affair of the Debets. [Page 90] Your Lorship may be pleas'd to remember, that it was upon my entreaty you granted the confirmation of it. The persons, for whom I sollicited your furtherance of it, proffer'd me a small part in the Affair; but, when I consider that I am but slowly happy in all my undertakings, and that I could not imagine it should come to what it now is, I chose rather to content my self with the payment of six hundred Pistols, which they have promis'd, by a writing to that purpose, out of the first mony that shall be receiv'd. I have now neither any concern in the affair, nor the mony, which had been promis'd me for the facilitation of it. If your Lordship will but vouchsafe to speak one word to the Projector who is to have the benefit of it, I shall have either the one, or the other, or both. I question not but you will grant me that favour, since I am, more than any other,

I Take the liberty to make a request to you with as much confidence, as if, af­ter the courtship of many years stand­ing, I had done you some service of great importance. But persons of your quality, that is, such, whose generosity is so transcen­dent as yours, are not only forward to ob­lige their Servants, and their Friends, but their favours are extended also to all those that stand in need thereof. They are the perpetual Sanctuaries and Protectors of the Unfortunate, and the constant Repairers of their Breaches; and for your own part, my Lord, I think there passes not a day, but some distressed Knight or Lady comes to beg a Boon of you. I intreat you therefore, as an unfortunate person, and one, who, of all the World has the greatest honour for you, to grant me one. 'Tis only, this, my Lord, that you would use your perswasions to the Provost of the Merchants, to forbear opposing the establishment of certain Offices relating to good Government, of which [Page 92] Offices I have acquir'd the propriety. 'Tis an Affair which would contribute highly to the establishment of my Concerns, and supply me with four or five thousand Livers of annual Rent. But my unhappy Destiny, which does not let slip the least occasion of doing me an ill turn, has rais'd up a Poly­pragmatical fellow, who without any en­gagement in the Affair himself, has prepos­sess'd the Provost, and made him averse to the design. I have employ'd, to sollicite him, Monsieur the President de Guenegaut, who had been so kind as to take along with him Monsieur de Franquetot, and my Wife; but his recommendation of the business has prov'd less prevalent then a bare Factum. I expect a quite different effect from the Letter, which I intreat you to write to him, and to send by some one of your own Me­nial Servants. It will be sufficient, if he does but know, that I have the honour of being known to you, to raise in him a thought of my being a person worth obli­ging. But if you will be farther pleas'd to tell him, That you look not on me with an indifferent eye, he will make my affair his own, since he will conceive it in some sort to be yours, and you will have this satis­faction thereby, that the most zealous of [Page 93] your Servants will not be the poorest of that number, and consequently, that it may spare you much of the future addresses, which you must otherwise expect from,

THough, you are the most experienc'd person of all those that are now en­trusted with the management of State-Af­fairs, yet you must give me leave to tell you, that you did not throughly reflect on what you did, when you would needs make me believe, and that by the most obliging Letter in the world, that I had some place in your Affection. Unfortunate persons, such as I am, are many times importunate, contrary to the bent of their own Inclina­tions; [Page 94] and generous persons, such as you are, have sometimes occasion to repent of their being too highly generous. After what you have already done for me, which was enough to make me your most humble, ...... most obedient ...... most observant ..... and most oblig'd Crea­ture, as long as I should continue in this wretched state of mortality, (though the success should not prove answerable to my expectation) I should not have had any ground to importune you any further, if the calamity of my condition did not in some sort give me that priviledge, or if I were not encourag'd thereto, by a conside­ration that your Generosity is not tir'd out. But, my Lord, that has promis'd so much, that I cannot harbour the least fear of my ever desiring too much of you; besides that the Affair, whereof I beg your facilitation on my behalf, is one of those that seldome deny'd in Council. It is contributory to good Government, it brings considerable Summes in a short time into the Exche­quer; and if it succeed, I shall have as great reason to celebrate the greatness of your benefits, as I do already that of your Civility. But whatere may happen to [Page 95] me, I must be the most ungrateful per­son in the World, if, while I am, I am not,

AM I not guilty of too much freedom and familiarity, to beg a great kind­ness, of a great Person, in a short Note? I know there is a vast distance between a Grandee, a Privy Councellor, a Minister of State, and poor Paul Scarron; and yet, to make an ingenuous acknowledgment of my natural infirmity, I can as well forbear breathing, as being somewhat jocose and familiar with those persons, for whom I have a great affection, or continuing in a serious humour to the end of a Letter, which I may have begun with MY LORD, or, MAY IT PLEASE YOUR LORDSHIP, [Page 96] in Capitals. I would not therefore have you imagine, from what I have said, that I am thrifty or forgetful of the respect I owe you; I shall ever render what is due to your Character, answerably to my Abi­lities, and I know how to make my Ad­dresses to you in the sublimest kind of wri­ting, when occasion shall require it. But the very same man, who shall sometimes leave half a foot distance between MY LORD, and the beginning of the Letter he is writing to you; who shall drain the Academy of Complements to fill it with Rodo­montades and Hyperboles; and shall not omit the least of your Qualities, least the super­scription of it should not be sufficiently au­thentick, will, after all that ceremony, fly out, and entertain you with trifles, and a little dissuperciliate that serious counte­nance, which methinks you ought to have, when you give a conclusion to some great Affair. In a word, he will endeavour to uncatonize you, if I may presume to use that expression; but that must not be, when the important Concerns of State are under de­liberation; that is, when you are Procu­rator-General, Surintendant of the Finan­ces, and Minister of State, such a Trium­virate of Offices, as none ever exercis'd so [Page 97] well before. Monsieur de Chaulne will take a fitter opportunity, and will not suffer me to appear before you, till you have de­vested your self of those Titles, and assume the place of Monsieur Fouquet, I mean the most excellent Person in the World; when you shine in your own proper lustre, with­out borrowing that of your Charges and Dignities; when having quitted the Con­sular Robe, you are at St. Mandés, or Paris, in your withdrawing-Room, clad accord­ing to the ordinary mode of private per­sons, and somewhat in the same equipage and humour, as Scipio was in, when he ga­ther'd shells on the Sea-side with his Friend Loelius. Could I have the happiness, my Lord, to be admitted to you, at such a time, I should make no difficulty to entertain you with any thing that came first into my head, and be the frolickest person alive, as long as Heaven were pleas'd to continue me in the humour. Yet should not that be, till I had first begg'd your permission to be so, such as was given me by the late Cardinal of Lyons, and such as I took my self, without asking, with the Cardinal de Retz, when he lay by me upon my little yellow Couch, and talk'd of things no way relating to the Cabals of Paris. I dare [Page 98] boldly own it, that, in those two Emi­nences, I triumph'd over the Stoicisme, and serious temperament, which attends the red Cap. Time was, when they would have it to be an Article of my Faith, that they had a love for me; you may follow their example, and afford me a little of your affection, without either blushing or disparagement, and by the extraordinary care I took to deserve their caresses, ima­gine with what zeal I shall be inclin'd to love you. You have a kindness for me, upon this particular score, that I am a wretched person, and you have done me more in the space of fifteen dayes, than the greatest part of the Peerage of France promis'd me, ever since the time I was condemn'd to the posture of perpetual sit­ting. Of the last Twenty years which I shuffled away of my weary life, there has not past one, but some great Lord among those that come to see me at my Chamber, as people went heretofore to see Elephants, and Estriches, or popp'd in thither to pass away the afternoon, when they had made bilk Visits, or have nothing else to do; there has not. I say, one year pass'd, but some one of those titulary Grandees, and mountai­nous promisers of Friendship and all the [Page 99] conveniences consequent thereto, hath shamefully broke his word with me, and has as often proffer'd either for my Friends or my self, what I desir'd not of them. And yet Monsieur the First President, whom I never had the honour to see in my life, sent me this last Year a considerable Present by the Abbot of Menagius, and that within a very short time after I had dedicated a Book to him; whereas you your self, who were ignorant of my being in the world, have honour'd me with your kindnesses, and that after a manner yet more obliging, than those very kindnesses. I think, my Lord, that I am not engag'd to make a more par­ticular discovery of what I desire of you, whatever Command you have laid on me to do it: I ought to receive the favours you shall do me with all the resentment of gratitude that I am capable of; but I have not any right to prescribe them to you, nor yet to demand any of you. Your own Generosity knowes well enough what it has to do. It is sufficient, for the quiet remainder of my life, that, from the place where you are, you have cast an eye upon me in that where I am; and I question not, after the obliging Note you were pleas'd to write to me, and which I shall [Page 100] dearly keep, but that I may shortly say, when I speak of you, ‘—Deus nobis haec otia fecit.’ Mean time, to importune you no farther, I am,

I Question not, but you may have heard, that I was as kindly entertain'd by the late Queen of Sweden, Christina, as I could expect, when I was carried to the Lowvre, to satisfie her Curiosity. Nor is it to be doubted, but that the relation she made in her own Country, and the many others through which she has once travell'd, of that important Visit, was extreamly divertive to [Page 101] all that heard it. A good Sedan, and two lusty Fellows to carry it, and a third, to convey my own great Chair, out of which I have dictated more Burlesquery, than any other Author has done, might with as much ease bring me to your Palace, that my Curiosity may be once satisfy'd with the sight of in seeing that Person, to whom, of all the World, I am the most engag'd. I should have already satisfy'd the impatience I am in to do it, if my health had not ob­lig'd me to take a little change of Air, at a place, about a League from Paris, where I hope to put a period to a Comedy I have in hand. Mean time, I beg your Lordships remembrance of the Promise you have made my Wife, concerning the Marquisate of her Cousin de Circe, and to be pleas'd, that Mon­sieur Patriau may make you a report of that affair. The favour we beg of you herein, is one of the greatest; but, if I am not mi­staken, I have already told you, That you could not do small ones. And I once more protest to you, That if I were not fully perswaded, that the Lands, for which we beg your final conclusion, are as much our rightful Freehold, as any man's can be in France, I should not have undertaken to speak to you of it, though all my Wife's [Page 102] Relations in Poictou have importun'd me to do it. I shall forbear further abusing your patience, and remain,

AFter all the good Offices you do me with our Noble Patron, the Surin­tendant, methinks you might well have taken the freedom to open the Letters he writes to me, before they came to my hands; and I have some reason to complain, that you had not the first reading of that which I receiv'd this day. It speaks so much of Kindness intended to me, and that does so enflame my gratitude, and puts me to so great a loss, that, if he often write me the like, he, I say, whom I ought to love above all the World, I think I should come and [Page 103] run my self through with a Stilletto at his feet, not knowing any thing else efficacious enough fully to express a resentment so real [...]nd sincere as mine is. I send you the Let­ter it self, that I may have your joynt-af­firmation of its being the most obliging Missive that ever was. When you have re­turn'd it, I will have it put up amongst my greatest Rarities, as a Testimonial to all Posterity of the Kindness, which the most Generous of all men is pleas'd to have for me. I desire to know, Whether he were much diverted with my Epigrams, against Monsieur B [...], among which there are two very pleasant ones. I am

IT is in a manner impossible for a man to be so transcendently obliging as you are, and not be often importun'd. For my part, I am very sensible, that I impor­tune you often; but I have this apology to make for my self, that importunities are in some sort allowable in persons, remarkable for their calamities as I am; and you would think it strange your self, if I should not make the best advantage I can of the ho­nour of your acquaintance, and the kind­nesses you have for me. Two days since, my Servant left at your house a breviat, con­cerning the affair I may have with Monsieur le Tardif, who doubtless would not deny you a thing of greater consequence, and whom I shall satisfie, when he pleases, upon what I have grounded my pretensions. It is my desire, Sir, that you would speak a word with him concerning it, and give me leave to send some person to him, as if it were from your self to request of him, what you will find in the Memorial which I now [Page 105] send you. 'Tis one of my Friends of Dreux who has made the discovery of it, and is con­ [...]nt that I should make some advantage thereby, besides the satisfaction it will be to me, that I have endeavour'd to serve him. I am,

IT has been extreamly to my prejudice that I am not so well known to you, as you are to me; I presume you would make no question, but that I should have for yonr Generosity all the sentiments it deserves, and for the Obligations you have laid on me, all the acknowledgments I am able to make. I am this day advertis'd by Monsieur le Tardif, how earnestly you bestir your self to do me a kindness, and I have thereupon [Page 106] acquainted him, how far those obliging procedures of yours are free from all suspi­tion of any benefit or interest to your self, since I am the most useless person in the World. Sir, it is my suit to you, that you would continue them, and compleat a work, which could not have been undertaken by any man who had not a Soul of the same mold with yours. If you will appoint a day for that purpose, I will give Monsieur le Tardif notice of it. I am somewhat in haste to acknowledg my self indebted to you for my tranquility, not so much out of a desire to see my self in a short time well establish'd, as that of having a greater inducement, to assume the quality of

IT was my fortune this day to be quite out of mony, a thing not extraordina­ry to me. I thereupon sent my Servant to Monsieur de Richemont, to entreat him to advance one Quarters Rent of my Pen­sion, eleven dayes before it became due. Monsieur [...] happen'd to be there, a Person I have not the honour to be acquain­ted withal, and I think it is not my fault. However, he took occasion to reproach me with it, as a great misdemeanour, and most unmercifully sent me word, that he knew me not; That I was acquainted only with Monsieur de Lorme, and that I had never dedicated a Book to him. What say you to the brutality of this gallant Person? But this is not the first affront I have receiv'd from him. I would gladly have a particu­lar Character of this unpolish'd Lord, and know, how he stands in point of respect with a Master so eminent for civility, as Monsieur the Surintendant. I am resolv'd to make my complaints to him against a [Page 108] man so cruel and tyrannical to poor people. But if ever you see any Dedicatory of mine to Monsieur [...], set me down for the grea­test Rascal and Scoundrel, not only of all the Province of Scarroneria, but also of all the voluntary Rascals of fair France, the most fertile of all Countries in Persons of that Qualification. I hope towards the end of the Week to have my Present ready for Madam, the Surintendant's Lady. Mean time I remain,

I Would fain write a Letter which were worth the communicating to your no­ble Patron, and such as might procure a second order to be given to Monsieur Bru­ant. But is there any possibility of writing good Letters, when a man is quite money­less? [Page 109] I was never so much fallen out with prosperity as I am this day. In three Lot­teries it was my chance to meet with pure Blanks, and the two silver bowls, which Madam Scarron has got, and which must not come into the common stock, have only given me occasion to envy her good luck, and to detest my own misfortune. Add to this that the Bois Roberts, and the Corneilles, to whom your dear Patron has been mani­ficent beyond all that ever were celebrated by the name of Mecoenas, disturb my rest, as much as the Triumphs of Miltiades did that of another Athenian. Could I have gone and come, as another man, you had scap'd the importunity of above twenty of my Letters, and I would have made my Ad­dresses to you in my own, I may say pro­per, but I must add withal, very irregular figure.

Now, in the Bigotian Dialect of the sur­cengled Tribe, what I have told you in Verse, is call'd Being visited of the Lord. Nay, it has happen'd to me many times, that some good Religious men have come purposely to congratulate the happiness I had that the all-merciful God was pleas'd to visit me, oftner then any other; and seem'd to envy me a felicity, which I would have heartily resign'd to any of them, with all the advantages I had thereby, of promo­ting my future well-fare. For my part, I wish there were some less painful expedient [Page 111] then those Visitations, for me to secure my salvation, and I find my self at a great di­stance from that high degree of perfect re­signation to the Lord's will. For I must se­riously acknowledge, that I languish and pine after what you have put me in hopes to receive from Monsieur Bruant. I am willing to believe, as you write to me, that he would oblige me; but I question whether he will do it much. I believe also that he finds it some trouble to raise money at the beginning of a Campagne; but there wants so small a sum for me to begin mine, and what I expect from him would contribute so little to the distraction he is in, that he might put a period to mine, without much augmenting his own. It is your concern to solicite him herein, were it only that you may be deliver'd from the persecution of my Letters. To excite you the more, I am to tell you, that I was yesterday put into a great fright; word was brought me, that Monsieur Meraut, Master of the Accompts, was desirous to see me. I was much troubled to think what might be the consequence of my Landlord's visit. But his discourse was only concerning the reparations of his house, the innundation of the River Seine; and his last complement was, That, though [Page 112] unhappy in other things, I was a happy man in being so ingenious. I am,

I Have a story to tell you, which, if I mistake not, will find you some diver­sion. Some three dayes since, I was fallen very low in the purse, an accident which is very ordinary to me. I sent my servant to Monsieur Richemont, of whom I receive every Quarter four hundred Livers, a Pension bestow'd on me by Monsieur the Surintendant. I desir'd him to do me the favour, to make me ten dayes advance of the Quarter now current. There happen'd to be with him one Monsieur [...]. a per­son I know not, and he reproach'd me with it, as a great fault, whereof I have yet but little thought to reform my self. This man [Page 113] meeting with my servant, entertain'd him with this discourse. I know not your Master; He knowes none but Monsieur de Lorme, and never either dedicated to, or presented me with any of his Books; tell him, that he shall not have his mony till the end of this month. You see, Sir, how that Poverty makes men des­picable; and though Queens, and Princes, and all the greatest persons of quality in the Kingdom have had the curiosity to come and see me, honour me with their Visits; and dispense with my rendring of any to them, I find an unciviliz'd Lord in Monsieur [...]. And you see also, Sir, that though you are esteem'd and belov'd of all the World, yet is there an envious Brute, to whom your noble repute gives some disturbance. I shall forbear giving further occasion of grum­bling, to the people of business, who wait in your Antichamber, by amusing you any longer with the reading of a Letter of no great importance. I am,

I Am much troubled to hear of the soarness of your Eyes: But what addes to the trouble, is, that having a great likeli­hood of doing much mischief, they are the less bemoan'd by divers other persons. It concerns you to examine whether they have deserv'd what they endure, and so seek out, in your own virtue, for all the patience, you now stand in need of. For my part, it is the greatest of my afflictions, partly out of a consideration of my present interest, and partly out of that of my future expectation. For since it has been known, that you have honour'd me with your acquaintance, I find that I am more considerable among several persons. The other day, I only took occa­sion to speak of you, as I ought to do, before Monsieur de Scudery, and this day, I receiv'd from him the Letter I now send you, by which you will see, that he hopes great things from you, if you but ever so little promote the request which Monsieur Mena­gius has made for him. No doubt but Mon­sieur [Page 115] Servient will tell you, that these Briefs from Rome are very troublesome, and I am so more then any one, in recommending two affairs to you, in the space of eight dayes. But when I solicite for other per­sons, I am as fierce as a Lyon, but for my self, I am so bashful, that it is with the great­est repugnance in the World, I importune any man with my concerns. Since my Letter is grown so long, I must tell you fur­ther, that upon the first sight of Monsieur Servient, I conceiv'd he would be a person answerable to my inclination; his merit has since rais'd in me a veneration for him; and the kindness he has express'd, in en­quiring whether I were alive, has made an absolute acquest of me to his service. This protestation of mine is as sincere, as that of my being,

I Send you the two Letters which I read to you yesterday, because I observ'd, that you express'd a certain liking of them, with this promise, that I shall cause some others to be transcrib'd for you, as also some Verses. But at the present, the greatest part of my employment is the writing of Comedies, because my principal subsistance depends on it. 'Tis a wretched kind of La­bour, which is not of any great advantage, though a man bestowes much of his time in it, and gains him but little reputation, when he makes too great expedition. The others require a great repose and serenity of mind: and a man has but little of either of them, when he is as much discompos'd in his health, as in his affairs. And for my part, I must acknowledge, that I find a great di­minution of that facetious humour, for which I am so remarkable, ever since I have been reduc'd to a necessity of making verses for my livelihood, as a person damn'd to a Trade. I am extreamly at a loss, when I [Page 117] reflect, that if I express not my thankful­ness to Monsieur the Procurator General, as highly as my resentment of his favours advises me to do, he may suspect, I have it not to the degree I ought; and if I do thank him answerably to the desires I have to do so, he may imagine, that I have a mean and mercenary soul. I am sufficiently satisfy'd that he is so transcendently generous, as not to expect Complements from those whom he obliges, and goes by this principle, that that is properly giving, when a man gives to an useless person, such as I am; whereas to be liberal to one from whom he may re­ceive some service, implies somewhat of Commerce, rather then the bestowing of a kindness. In a word, Sir, there is in this point a certain nicety which I ought to ob­serve, and which I desire to be instructed by you, who have known him so well, and so long. I did not make account to have writ­ten to you so seriously; but sometimes there rises a certain cloudiness in a man's mind, which cannot presently be dispell'd. I am,

I Make no question, but you have long since assign'd me a place among your Friends; how well I deserve it, will appear by the demonstration I now make of the de­sires I have to serve you, in giving you the knowledge of a Son of Madam Mongerons, and withal the opportunity to oblige a Lady of her merit, in the person of her Son, a per­son highly meriting the Friendship I expect you should have for him. You will there­by give some assurance of that which you have promis'd me; and I expect great ac­knowledgments of the kindness I do you both, at the end of the Campagne. Of all the good qualities which the Gentleman I recommend to you is maker of, I shall only mention one, which he himself would have conceal'd from you. 'Tis this, that he commands the Lute better then any person of his quality, yet has not the time, he has spent in that exercise, diverted him from persecuting all the others, nor yet his Stu­dies, and Travels into Spain, Germany, and [Page 119] Italy. I might have said more of him, but I leave it to your own perspicacity, to find in him those accomplishments, whereof I shall give you a farther account the next Win­ter. In the mean time, be jocund, O most passionate of all men, and least punctual in all things, unless it be in the Friendship you have for,

I Am in some degree useful to you, since I find you the means of obliging an excel­lent Person▪ concerning whom we had some discourse two dayes ago. 'Tis Mon­sieur R. one who is as much my Friend, as I am desirous to be yours. I think that I have hereby made a sufficient discovery of his be­ing a person of more then ordinary merit; For it will not be for your honour to suspect, [Page 120] that I understand it not; I, who had at the first sight so perfect a knowledge of your worth, and would have purchac'd your friendship at any rate you would have set upon it, if I had had wherewithal to pay for it. Monsieur Rosteau will tell you the rest.

MY wife has given me an account of the obliging designes you have for us. These new demonstrations of your kindness have not added any thing to what I already knew of it. During the short time I had the honour to see you, I had an abso­lute perswasion, of what your precedent re­pute would have induc'd me to believe; and I must make this protestation to you, that, though the hopes which your Friend­ship and protection raise in me, should not be [Page 121] attended with that good success which in all probability will follow, yet should I im­pute it wholly to my own misfortune, and make never the less acknowledgments of your Generosity. I have not the repute of an ungrateful person in the World, and I cannot give a greater assurance of it, then by representing to you, that though I am the most useless of all Men, yet is there a great number of Persons of Quality and me­rit, who are my Friends, or pretend to be so. But I must withal avow, that among those that seem to be most earnest & pressing to do me good, there is not any that prof­fers the doing of it, in so obliging a manner as you do. You bestow much less of your time on your self then you do on others, and I should put you to expend too much of it, if I should set down here all that my gratitude does inspire me withal. Till I can make a publick declaration thereof, be pleas'd to content your self with the sincere protesta­tion you now receive of my ever being, while I live,

I Have receiv'd an Advertisment from you, that Father Vavasseur had written a Tract against the Burlesque Stile. He has done well. I find in my self some incli­nation to envy so Noble a Design; and you will do me a pleasure to afford me the peru­sal of a Work, for which the Publick ought to think it self oblig'd to him. If I were to write against some inconvenience incident to Mankind, it should be against the Bur­lesque Poesy: but you have an ill opinion of me, if you think that I bear him the least ill will. Next to stinking Breaths, and morose Company, I know not any greater inconvenience, than the Burlesque Verses; and since I am in some sort the cause of the great overflux which hath happen'd of that kind of Poetry, I have no great occasion to quarrel at Father Vavasseur's falling upon me. They, who told you, that I was in­cens'd against him, know me not, and I should still have been ignorant of his ha­ving [Page 123] written against the Insects of Parnas­sus, if you had not inform'd me. The World is much oblig'd to him, for having set forth a Work, which tends to the re­formation of so great an abuse. You might well have given me a sight of it, were it only to make amends for the injury you have done me, in thinking me capable of so great an impatience. Be pleas'd to let Father Vavasseur know, that I am his, and

I Must needs have a very advantageous conceit of Madam d' Aiguillon, for after I have seen her, heard her, and read the Letter which you shew'd me of hers, I can­not abate any thing of what I have said of her. For Godsake, Madam, let me in­treat [Page 124] you, to make it your serious business not to spoil my Verses, by changing a word, without which they would be defective. Her act of humility would make me com­mit one of injustice, and you may tell her from me, that it has already had its effect towards God. I assure her of it, with as much certainty, as many others might do, who think themselves better inform'd, than I am, of what passes in the Celestial Court. She is but the second of those Ladies, whom I have canoniz'd before their death; but she is that of the two, of whose Virtue I am most assur'd: and I dare affirm, that though she should, during her life, leave a sum, to defray the charges of her Canonization after her death, yet would it not be so much the effect of her presumption, as of her wisdom. I will tell you more of it, when I shall have the honour to see you. But though I am smitten with her merit, more than any other person ever was, yet shall I believe more of her, then I shall tell you of her; I, who cannot speak meanly of what I esteem, and who am the most tender of the interests of persons that are like her, when they have gain'd me by their goodness. Oh! that she had but some quarrels that were to be decided with Pen in hand, you should [Page 125] see, how I would bestir my self in her ser­vice. I am, in the mean time,

THe former Letters we receiv'd from you were so divertive, that we look'd on it as an argument of your, and Mon­sieur [...]'s being not only in health, but also in a more than ordinary good humour: but there is so much discontent in the last, as gives us occasion to fear, that now you are not in either. True it is, that for your part, you have overcome your indisposi­tion, nay I am apt to think that you are not troubled with any, since you under­stand Raillery. But as to Mons▪ [...]I would advise him to breath a Vein, and I promise him, not to endanger the enfla­ming [Page 126] of his blood hereafter, by the satyri­cal freedome of my discourse. My raillery is alwayes directed to my Friends, because it is my presumption, that they are not dis­pleas'd therewith; and I shall not take it amiss, if they give me as good as I bring. I shall not therefore stick to tell you, that as pleasant as your Friend [...] thinks me. I cannot pretend to be half so pleasant as he; and that during the space of seven or eight months, that he has made his residence at Paris, like a Rinegrave, and carrying on Amours by Placets, Factums, and Letters of Recommendation, he has given the World a greater diversion, than I shall do while I live, with all the Burlesque and facetious humour that God has bestow'd on me. He has further this advantage over me, that it is with some violence to my self, that I am pleasant, whereas he is naturally such, and without so much as thinking of it. But least my Letter may seem as undivertive to you, as what he writ in yours, upon the innocent raillery of his most humble Ser­vant; I shall speak of something else. I send you a Pourtraiture of Madam Bonneau, which I did upon the perswasion of Madam Scarron. Some have thought it not unlike her, and written naturally enough. Com­mendations [Page 127] do not divert much, and are but perpetual repetitions of the same thing. The Baronade is finish'd; I shall send it you, as soon as I have shewn it to Monsieur the Procurator-General. I am much troubled concerning Monsieur the Mareschal d' Al­bret; 'tis the common report at Paris, that he lies very sick, and some say, he is to be brought thither in a Letter. The loss of so generous a Friend would not be one of the least misfortunes, of the most unfortunate Person in the World.

THough the affair I have propos'd to you come to nothing, as to the suc­cess I expected from it, yet should I prefer it before the most advantageous one I [Page 128] could do, since it has procur'd me the re­ception of one of your Letters. It was possibly your intention to write me only a Missive full of civility; but you have done much more, insomuch, that I must acknow­ledge, Madam, that of the most unhappy of all men, you have given me so great a satisfaction of my own fortune, that I now think my self the object of envy, rather than compassion. In short, the effort which your kindness hath wrought in my mind, is my most important Affair, and so takes up my thoughts, that I know not how I can speak to you of that which I have in the hands of Monsieur de la Nouë Renart: But, since you enjoyn me to do it, and that it is more just I should comply with your desires, than follow the bent of my own in­clination, I shall only tell you, Madam, that if you do but satisfie M. de la Nouë Renart, of Madam Scarron's, and my being some­what in your favour, it is impossible my af­fair should prove unsuccessful in his hands, though he should oppose me, as much as I find him dispos'd to serve you. In that ex­pectation, or rather assurance, I remain,

I Know not whether you are as much lost to your other Friends, as you are to me. I have no more sight of you, then if you were already admitted into the Celestial Court, to which place you are making all the hast you can. And yet it was my opi­nion, that you were sufficiently accom­modated, as to the concerns of this lower World, and methinks twelve thousand Livers of an Annual Rent in Spiritual Pro­motions, and eight hundred thousand Li­vers of Temporal Estate, might have been a great temptation, for your making a longer aboad amongst us poor Mortals. But without any further Raillery, why are you no longer visible? Is it that your fits of Devotion continue still, and that you would break off all corre­spondence with so great a Sinner as I am? It were a Pharisaical action in the highest degree, and you should ra­ther think of promoting my Salvation, [Page 130] as a thing of much difficulty, and not have forsaken me, till you had as much security as this World could give you, of my hap­piness in the other: for you will be much troubled, if we do not both receive the same blest invitation at the last day. Mean time I am,

HEr Highness does me a great honour in but thinking that I am in the World, and it is no small one you do me, in believing me capable of drawing a Pour­traiture well. But though I should be so fondly conceited of my self, as to be per­swaded of my ability as to that point, and that my earnest inclination to please you, should give me that Painting; yet would [Page 131] the Pourtraitures which her Highness has made, quite discourage me from making any. They are, as far as I am able to judge of them, the noblest of all those that were ever yet made; and the Virtuoso's of the present Age were to be bemoan'd, that a Princess should transcend them in the glory of writing well, if it were not highly to their glory, to see her meddle with their Profession. There is a greater difficulty in making a good Pourtraiture, then is imagin'd. A man should have a perfect knowledge of what he is to draw; and me­thinks that commonly people know not any well but themselves, and sometimes their intimate friends. Can any person of excellent parts commend himself without much vanity? Or should one make a disco­very of his imperfections to any but his Confessor? In like manner, can a man ce­lebrate the accomplishments of friends, without importuning him? Or tell them some truths without hazard of incurring their displeasure? Nor are the inconveni­encies occurrent in the commending of in­different persons less considerable. For, as Portraitures ought to be made of sub­jects that are well known, and that men are remarkable upon the score of their [Page 132] Quality and Merit; so a man runs the risque of disobliging those persons to whom he owes respect and esteem, if he gives them not the commendations they deserve; he must expect the character of an imper­tinent person, if he gives them those that are not truly applicable to them; and how cautiously soever commendations may be given, it is my imagination, that there is not any thing more troublesome, to him that receives them, to him that gives them, and to those persons who hear them given. Besides these general reasons, upon which I have taken a resolution not to make any Pourtraitures, I have some particular ones, which I question not but you will approve. A wretched person, such as I am, who ne­ver goes out of his chamber, has no exact knowledge of things, but what is had by the relations of others. I doubt not but you will grant that to be a great defect in a Painter, who ought to have his fancy fraught with a great number of Idaea's, and apprehensions, which are not to be ac­quir'd otherwise then in the conversations of the greatest persons; and I am suffi­ciently sensible, to my great regret, that in process of time, a man may grow dull and rusty, in his chamber, as much as if he [Page 133] were in the Country. A Man should have a smartness of wit and discernment equal to that of so excellent a Princess, to make good Pourtraitures, and be of a quality not infe­riour to hers, ere he shall be able either to commend or dispraise, so as that there shall be no occasion to quarrel at it. I am,

I Am not to be instructed what respect I owe so great a Prince, and so great a Benefactor as you are, and it shall be my care not to abuse it: but it would be withal impossible for me, to forbear ex­ercising my jocose humour in a Letter, though I begin it with MY LORD, and cannot avoid trembling for the first four Lines. But at the present, you will be pleas'd to content your self with a Mil­lion [Page 134] of humble Thanks, which I now send you, for the honour of your remembrances of me, for all the excellent Pasties, which you ever sent me, and particularly, for the last of them all, which is just now brought to the Table. There are present at the opening of it, Messieurs de Vivonne, de Mata, d Elbene, de Chastillon, not reckon­ing your humble Servant, to whom you were pleas'd to send it. I question not but it will be a great satisfaction to you, to find that the goodness of the Company is some­what answerable to that of the Pastey; and it is but just, that the Founder of so noble a Treat, should have an account who are the Confounders of it. You may be assur'd also, that we shall have more than one re­membrance of your good health; and those Commemorations will be a perfect com­fort to me, for the absence of Madam Scar­ron, whom Madam de Mont-chevreüil has carry'd away from me by main force. I have apprehension, that that debauch'd Lady may occasion her being addicted henceforth to Wine and Women. But for your part, my Lord, I shall presume to give one word of good Counsel, as to the latter of those two enjoyments: which is, that you be not so liberal of your radical moi­sture [Page 135] among the Provincial Beauties of Pi­cardy, as not to reserve a little of it, for the Coy Dames of Paris, who in the mean time languish for your return. Of fall your most humble, most obedient, most respectful, and most obliged Servants, I am the most zea­lous,

SInce the last you receiv'd from me, you were pleas'd to write to Madame Scar­ron, and to Monsieur de Nossac. Those two Letters are admirable things, worthy to be learnt by heart, and in a word, such as may well deserve the title of Opera. A Person of excellent parts, whom you very well know, said, at the reading of them, that you must needs be in an exquisite tempera­ment, both as to health, and affairs, when you could write so transcendently well. For my part, were I not throughly acquainted [Page 136] with your accomplishments in the several kinds of writing, I should say of those ex­cellent works in Prose, which you dayly post up to Paris, what the same Monsieur d'Elbene sometime said very pleasantly, of some persons, who make it their study to be of the first magnitude in Company, that is, to be most conspicuous for their drollery, and witty reparties; That indeed there was much reputation to be acquir'd by a continual advancing of things remarkable and ingenious; but that the toil of it much exceeded the pleasure; and he had observ'd, that persons of such an humour were not long liv'd. I make it my earnest suit to that power which can do all things, that it would be pleas'd to continue to you that great fe­cundity of wit, and indefatigability of hand, which you have at present, and that, some fifty years hence, I may be refresh'd and satisfi'd with their happy productions. But be this said only en passant; though fifty years will make no great hole in eternity. In the mean time, Madam Scarron is very unfortunate, that she has not a competent estate, and all the equipage and accommo­dations requisite, to take her progress, when so great a felicity is proffer'd her, as that of being wish'd at Brouage, by so great a Prin­cess, [Page 137] as Mademoiselle de Manchini.

Tyber's rich present, the Glory now of France.

But I hope she will recover that so great a loss, when the Court returns to Paris, and that assoon as she shall have the honour to be known to that incomparable Romane, she will allow her a place among those; for whom she has some kindness. For my part, I would also offer her of my incense; for you know, that we Poets must have some Divinity, on whom we may bestow it. But I am distrustful of the merit of my Present, as much as I am perswaded, that she de­serves, above any person in the World, all the Hyperboles of the Poets; and you know that our Ware is contemptible, when it is directed to any one, before it be desir'd. The fulness of your Brouage causes a solitude here in Paris. Yet can I not perceive any such thing in one little house; for the am­bition of being admitted into our small so­ciety, grows warmer and warmer, both in the Court and the City. Not that we and our Paris would at the present enter into any competition with your Divinities of Brouage; but their true Element is Paris, [Page 138] or the Court; and when by their removal from Brouage they shall leave you as naked as they found you, we can afford you no o­ther quality, then that of Provincialists, and wretched Islanders. Adieu; my hand growes weary, and I can hardly tell you that I am,

I Have met with the first draught of the Letter, which I had written to you. Up­on second thoughts it seems to me very im­pertinent; but since you are so desirous to see it, I send it you as it is. You have done me a singular pleasure, in having me in your remembrance, and it is withall a great act of justice; for you are so far oblig'd to a person who esteem you to the degree that I do, as sometimes to think that he is in the World: and I must intreat you to be assur'd, that your retirement at Roissy is not a grea­ter affliction to your self, than it is to me, who am apt to hope, that sometime or other you would give me a Visit at my little Chamber, if your residence were at Paris. This is to be understood, when you were disappointed of all other meetings and as­signations, and could not bestow your time elsewhere. The actions of our Neighbours should be the Subject of our discourse; and many times we should recreate our selves [Page 140] by some little circumventing tricks, with­out which, I maintain, that all conversa­tion must be lost in process of time. Mean time, Monsieur d'Elbene and my self often remember you over a glass of Frontiac; wishing you were here to do us reason. Mon­sieur de Mata is in Xaintonge; I wish that he also were at Paris; his company would make your hours slide away somewhat the more merrily, whenever you had the kind­ness to visit,