I Have twice Read over, with a great deal of Patience, a Paper of yours which you call an Answer to a Discourse of Mine; And, to my confu­sion, must own, That I am not able to comprehend what part of my Dis­course it is you do Answer; nor in all yours, what [Page 2] it is you mean: But in this you are even with Me; for I perceive you do as little understand any part of what I have Written, though I thought it had been in so plain a Stile, that a Child of Six Years old, might very well have done it. Yet I do not take ill from you this Art you have of misunderstand­ing plain things, since you have done the same in his Majesty's Promise to the Church of England. The true meaning of which, (without this misun­derstanding Art of yours) would easily have appeared to be, That He would not suffer any body to injure the Church of England, but he did not promise, That He would have the Church of England Persecute every Body else.

Having confessed, That I cannot understand your Writing; you ought not to be offended at Me, if I cannot remember it neither. And yet there is one passage in it which I shall ne­ver forget; because it does in a most extraordi­nary manner delight Me: It is this shrewd convincing Argument of yours, which you say, Had you been to treat with Atheists, you would have urged to them; That it is impossible, this world should be Eternal, because then it must also be Invi­sible. It is, I swear, a refined, quaint kind of Notion; which (to do you Justice) I do verily believe, is entirely your own: yet for all this I cannot [Page 3] be absolutely convinced, That I am now the same George Duke of Buckingham, which I was Forty Years ago: And to shew you I am in earnest, I do here promise you, That if you will do for me a favor less difficult, which is, To make Me the same George Duke of Buckingham I was but Twenty Years ago, I will (as poor a Man as I am) give you a Thousand Guinneys for your pains; and that is somewhat more, I am afraid, than you will ever get by your Writing.

You have done Me the honour to call your self my Humble Servant, and therefore in Grati­tude, I shall offer you an Advice, which I am confi­dent, upon second thoughts, you will not find to be altogether unreasonable: That hereafter, be­fore you take upon you to write French, you will be pleased to learn the Language: For the Word Opinionatrê, which you are so infinitely charmed with in your Paper, has the misfortune to be no French Word: The true French Word, which I suppose you would have used, is Opini­atreté; and yet I protest, I do not see how (though you had Written it right) it would have much more graced your Discourse, than if it had been expressed in English. Stick therefore to your English Metaphors, at which you are admirable; and be always careful of not turning (according [Page 4] to your own Words) The Wine of Hopes, into the Vinegar of Despair; and then you cannot fail of being sufficiently applauded by every body, as you are by your Grateful Friend,