IT will be most hard and difficult for me to make this Pourtrait well, since other Ladies (for the most part) are all outside, and nothing else, and when you have seen but that you have seen them all, but that which you see in her, is the least part of her, she being all soul and mind, nor could an Angel in a mortal body, be more spiritual then she, nor have more interior graces and perfections.

For her exterior then I will only say that Heaven and Nature, never agreed better, 'ith composition of any one, giving her a beautious mind in a beautious body, and you would easily imagine her as good, as fair, to see (when she sees any one in misery,) how tender and compassionate she is, even like that noble Tree ready to wound her self to afford balm and cure for others wounds.

Nor has Fortune been wanting to make her as great, as fair, and good; none ever better deserving it, by the greatness of her mind, nor comporting better with all states and conditions, whilst none ever carryed it higher in adversity nor lower, and more humbly in prosperity, so counterpoising either, within her self, when others are all without themselves, or too much deprest with the one, or elated with the other. To which supream heighth of wisdom, since she could not attain, without as supream and high Philosophy; It ocurs in the next place, to speak of that.

For which, I need only remit you to her works, in which she of all others has most reason to glory; they being only Nurses and Fosterers of others opinions: but she the true parent of hers, using that liberty which heaven has bestowed on every one, and humane custtom allows, to have their opinions free, which though in point of Faith and Manners of good Raeson it be restraind, to avoid error and confusion in Church and Comonwealth, yet in Philosophy it has been alwaies free; Every one having liberty to hunt in common, nor was it ever inclosed by any unless by some few Schools of so inconsiderable Authority, as when you are once out of their walls, you are out of their jurisdiction, to whom she has been so little beholding, as never any with less help of them, addrest themselves to writing, nor ever performed it more happily then she; of whom one may well say, that whilst oothers only traslate many Books to make one; she without help of translation, has writ so many: As it is the Admiration of every one, which being so rare and extrordinary in her sex, does as little derogate from others, as miracles do from the ordinary works of God.

Let all then cease to envie what she has writ, or think that flattery which we write of her, whose vertues and perfections are so great, and many, as they ought rather to think those envious, who praise her not, then flatterrs who do.

ALmighty God, having blest you with such a son, as a more hopeful in Nature can hardly be: you do wisesly, and like a pious mother indeed, to take care betimes of his Education, without which Parents do but half their duty, and leave with all the better half undone; for Education is not only a second Nature, but also a perfectioning of the first, and that which whilst their birth makes them only children, does make them men. You are to consider then how that mother does nothing, who only brings children into the world, unless she takes care they should live well, whilst they are there, by which she makes both her self and children happy, for a good child is the happiness of the mother, and a good life the happiness of the child.

This being so, if you but examine well, what 'tis that makes that almost all our youth now adaies, have so little sence of Vertue and Religion; you will find that 'tis only because they are not traind up enough in the principles of either, whilst they are young.

For the Age proper for their Educacation, being chiefly their first fifteen years, or their Infancy, Childhood, and Adolescence, or Youth; in which the main business ought to be, the removing of Vice, Error and Ignorance, from their souls and minds. You shall find that whilst their Parents take care only of the two last; the first which ought to be the principle is wholly neglected by them & left undone: They never considering that man is like a Garden, where it is not enough, to • ow good seeds, but you must be daily plucking up ill weeds too, or else they will soon be over grown with them.

During their Infancy then, leaving the care of the first year unto their N • rses who give them suck, As soon as they arive unto the second year, their Parents should provide them of some discreet Governant, who may carefully observe their natural inclinations, either to good or evil, and cherish the one, and correct the other, as they shall see occasion.

Some may say now; this is too soon to begin with them, and that children can apprehend nothing yet: But they who say so, rather want apprehension; For when is the time (I pray) to bow and bend a Tree, to rectifie it and make it st • ait? Or make a Garment take a good fold or pleyt, but when it is first put on? And for their apprehensions of things we see, they can be affraid of Bug-bears; rejoyce when you tell them they shall have somewhat they are delighted with, and love those who give it them: Which being so, why may they not at those years be taught to fear vice, to delight in vertue, and to love God? if they were but prudently represented to their imaginations.

Let them be taught then to fear no other Bug-bear but vice, (especially that which they shall see them most inclin'd unto▪) and when they see them delighted with any thing, either of fair or sweet &c. Let them tell them 'tis God who gives and sends it them, and presently cry out, Oh how Good! How fair, how sweet is God! &c. By which means they shall imprint in their tender minds, a dear and affectionate love of him; after which it would be easy to to make them do whatsoever they shall understand to be most pleasing to him, and abstain from doing whatsoever may be displeasing to him on the contrary, under which notions they may represent both vertues and vices to them as they shall see occasion. This if their first Tutors or Governants would but do; Their second Tutors or preceptors would more easily do the rest: of whom I will only say that you are to chuse him more for prudence then for learning; more a Gentleman then a Pedant, and one that has more studyed men then Books. Mean time let him so season what he teaches him with sweetness, (the common bait of children) as so he may be delighted with learning it.

Above all, let him be a Religious honest man for he is to inform his manners as well as his understanding; and more souls for want of good Tutors, then Bodies for want of good Midwives, in these latter Times have perished and been cast away.

For the ordering his studies in particular, I say nothing more, But let his Rule be ne quid nimis to study nothing too much, for learning consisting either in words or matter, of which the first has no depth, and the last no bottom▪ to study t'one too much, were trifling, and t'other labour lost, besides too much study, but condenses the thought which is only for your melancholy Schoolmen; a Gentlemans thoughts should be more rarifyed and refin'd.

As for Travail none can give him better directions then my noble Lord his Father, who has made right use of them, by bringing home all that was good mother Nations; and leaving all the bad behind.

And thus much con • erning Education may suffice, and I have insisted more upon the pious then learned part, because as 'tis the most neglected, so 'tis the most necessary, for none can be either a good child to his Parents, or subject to his Prince, who is not first a good servant to Almighty God: And the reason is clear, for how can it be expected, that they should be grateful or obedient unto either, for their being and conversation; if they be not so to God, in whom (as the Scripture saies) They both live, and move, and have their being.

Neither let any imagine that this sort of Education should make children sad and melancholly, on the contrary I see not how any can be truly merry and cheerful, who cannot think on God or Death without fear and horor, whilst every thing puts them in mind thereof, and this is the case of all those who in their youth are not Educated in Vertue and Piety.

Which Education MADAM, if you give your Son, it may well be said of you, as it was of another most resembling you, that she not only brought forth children, but vertuous ones, her Vertue being as fruitful as her Self.

OF all worldly things, the choice of a wife is that which requires the longest deliberation: for diu deliberandum est quod statuendum est semel. We are long to deliberate of that which we can onely choose but once: and and when all's done, Fortune will have a main hand in it: or to speak more Religiously, Almighty-God. Whence 'tis said, that Marriages are made in Heaven. 'Tis the part of a Wise man then, to leave as little in it to Fortune as he can; and of a Religious, as much as he can unto Almighty God.

Amongst all the requisits of Marriage, Beauty is the most fragile, and deceives the expectation most, both because the one expects to find the same Adoration when a Wife, as when she was a Mrs and t'other finds not their Wives such Goddesses when marryed, as they immagined before they marryed them.

To marry for Beauty onely, is to buy a House onely for the outside, without considering the Conveniences within; and Age or a little sickness takes that away and them, and there's an end of all the delight you had. Whence 'tis no ill distinction, that a woman exceeding fair, is better for a Mrs. then a Wife, If she be but moderately handsome it is enough, so the rest be supplyed by the Beauty of the mind; the one being only the pleasure of the first day, tother of all your life.

Of all things, Complacency is the best Cyment of affection, and similitude of humour and disposition; for similis simili gaudet, All Likes do love their Like, and hate the contrary; unless perhaps some humours in them, may be too predominant; and then a little of the contrary would be a good Allay, as Mirth to Melancholly, or a placid or Patient humour, to a Harsh or Chollerick disposition.

With handsomness of Body, and good disposition of mind, the Goods of Fortune make no ill composition, so they be not the principal ingredient, for so Love, would wholly degenerate into interest, and men would look on their wives no otherwise then Farmers, on their Cattel, only considering how much they are worth in the Market and nothing else.

I need not give you a Caveat not to marry with any of condition much below your self, for you are too wise I know to be fool'd by any such fond affection, nor is there any danger of your marrying much above your self, since we have few nobility so high, into which a Gentleman of your birth and fortune may not aspire to match without ambition.

This is all Sir that ocurs to write unto you for this present upon this subject, who wish you all happiness in a wife, and know you so well, as I am sure your wife will have all happiness in you.

GOod will is that well ordered charity, which the Holy Scripture commends unto us so much, and which it obliges us to have, even for our Enemies; 'tis that, which humanity binds us to, and which makes one man a man unto another, who otherwise would be a God, or else a Beast, according as he benefited or injurr'd them. But in friendship Good Will, is like the power that never proceeds to Act, promises to performance, or flowers unto fruit, unless it proceeds to benefits withall, for a benefit is the Aliment of Friendship, as Oyle is of the flame, but as too much poured into the Lamp at once, rather extinguishes it, than nourishes it, so 'tis with benefits. Wherefore Madam I only desire of you small benefits at once and humbly thank you for satisfying my desire.

Else 'twere to smother me with Roses, and to Oppress me, rather then Relieve me; for 'tis with pain, when we are obliged too much, and great benefits, are but great debts and heavy burthens to a Grateful man: Whil'st little ones are light burthens, which every one can bear; and small debts, which every one can pay. Nor did they ever make Banquerout yet, or Modesty blush, or Generosity asham'd. Besides Madam, loving my Liberty as I do, and to be too much oblig'd being a kind of servitude; I thank you for leaving me in possession of that I love so well, and in possibility of that which you love so well, Gratitude; In which noble vertue you so excell, as none yet could ever oblige you so much, but you would find some way or other to disoblige your self again and turn those Bonds on them which they had bound you withall: But Madam, you have obliged me so far already, as now there is no farther danger of my Liberty, nor should I more willingly give it to any one, then to her to whom already I have given my heart, and for whom I am ready for to give my life.

THey are, amongst you Irreligious, as your reformed Orders, (or Capucins and Carthusians) are amongst your Religious, professing a more perfect state of life, and higher degree of perfection then the rest. They keep quire, and for Psalmody, have a sort of Bawdy songs, composed by certain Authors of their own, far surpassing your Antient Heathens; for their Legend of Saints, they have Apitious's and Heliogabulu's Lives, and Aretins pictures for heightning their devotion. They meditate most devoutly on a Peticoat, and are rapt into extasy with contemplation of the Mystery therein; they observe their Rules of Modesty in Ladies company most exactly, standing with their hands in their Codpieces, and minding Bawdry whatsoever they say unto them. As others have done by Philosophy, they have wholly subverted all Morality, neither deal they more favourably with Divinity, doubting whether there be any God or no; and holding all Scripture Apochrypha, Excepting onely the Canticles of Solomon, which with their gloss passes for Canonical Bawdry; they count Heaven but a Melancholly place, and care not for coming there; so as those who would have them sav'd, must make a new Heaven a purpose for them. Marry the old Hell (with a little Addition) will serve them well enough. In fine, they are incapable to conceive how any Man can be honest, or Woman chaste, and make a fool of Macchiavel, who held that Men could not be extreamly vitious, so as by help of their Example, your after Ages will learn of the present; that too many Religions incline men to Atheisme, as well as none at all. And such as these, whilst they call themselves Wits, have brought the name of Wit into such obloquy, as you will shortly see the Church sensure it; the Lawes condemn it, Casuists invent new Cases for it; And finally, all Good Christians put it in their Litanies, to be delivered from such wits as these.

VVIT, like Beauty, has somewhat in it of Divine, and they profane either, who use them to vitious ends; it is rather a slight then force of the spirit, and is chiefly exprest in quick expedients and reparties. The French call it le point de l'esprit, be • ause it is sharp, and easily penetrates things; whence clenches and quibbles are not wit, because they go no farther then the outward word: It is that, in pleasant and factious discourse, as eloquence is, in grave and serious; and well comports with jest & raillerie, but no wayes with profaneness and scurrilitie; it is the spirit and quintessence of speech, extracted out of the substance of things; and a spiritual fire that rarefies and renders every thing spiritual like it s • lf; it is a soaring quality, that just as Dedalus wings, elevates those who have it above other men; and is the same in the brain, as Nobility is in the blood. In fine, it is somewhat above expression; and easier to admire, then tell you what it is: not acquir'd by Art and Study, but Nature and Conversation; and is so volatile a thing, as it is altogether as volatile to describe: Rendring those who have it, good and vertuous, as well as witty men; and whosoever is otherwise, we may well conclude, wants as much of wit, as they do of being such.

HISTORY may well be called the Book of Princes, since it chiefly becomes Princes to read and study it. It is a Mirrour, representing passed Times or Persons, and is twofold; either of affairs in General, or Heroick Persons in particular; in either, It is to represent nothing that is false, nor conceal any thing that is true; but since all truths are not indifferently to be uttered; it is enough to pass over lightly, and touch gently, what is dangerous to handle, or insist upon. 'Tis long since that (not without some reason,) the wiser sort, have suspected the Faith of all Historians, whilst they writ all in extr • ams, either through hate or favour; and leaving the Truth in the midst, think they do nothing, unless they •• ther depress to Hell, or exalt to Heaven, those which they treat of, with their Invectives or E • comiums.

To write a History well, of all your four dimensions, 'tis rather to have heighth and depth, then longitude and latitude; that is, 'tis rather to have heighth and depth of expression, then too diffuse circumstances, or long narrations; and for heighthning your stile, similitudes much confer; as for depth of the matter, grave sentences, and politick notes and observations.

It is not like Philosophy, to be delivered too plainly and briefly, (for so it nothing differs from an Epitome;) nor like Poetry, nor Rhetorick, all garnished with Flowers and Figures, like their Poems and Orations; (the one being a cloathing too plain and simple, the other too light and flaunting, for the dignity and gravity of History:) But it is rather to be represented like a Grave Matron, rich, not gawdy; fashionable, not fantastical; & more set out for reverence, then ostentation; beside, as in contriving a Building, so in writing a History, a main regard is to be had to the apt coherence of the whole; and passing handsomly from one part unto another, consisting either in Time, Place or Persons; in all which they may easily introduce on any other, by way of comparison, either for similitude or dissimilitude.

To write of Actions only, differs nothing from a Gazette; unless you declare the reason why they were done; and it is but looking ignorantly upon the outside of a Dyal, without considering the wheels that give it motion within. And in declaring these Reasons, you are not to be wiser then the truth, by imagining those which are not; nor less wise by ignoring those which are; but you are to collect them out of the private Cabinets of Princes or publick Registers of affairs and negotiations; neither are they to be crudly delivered, • ut digested into the corps of History; unless • you may judge it more covenient, to insert the Originals Entire, for the greater Authority of what you write.

By which we may clearly perceive, that there is no sort of writing that requires greater sufficiency, nor more judgment then that of History; nor of which we may more truly say, that when well done, none better; when ill, none worse then it; and conclude for the method, that when your Historian enters into matter with promise of what he is to write, and clearly deduces it all along (to avoid confusion) till he end at last with performance of what he has promised; both He and his History will be every wayes compleat.

ALL Poets anciently were Musicians, and Musick and Poetry were conjoyned together; when their chiefest employment was to sing the praises of the Gods; which begat them so much reverence with men, as they imagined a certain Divinty in them. Poets were counted Prophets; and as Poetry was the Language of the Gods, so Musick was the Accent in which they spoke.

Musick was then but simple, and had no more variety in Singing, then had the Voice in speaking; it being only an Harmonious speaking, as Poetry was but a speaking Harmony.

Whilst they remain'd thus united, all those miracles were effected by them, as are recorded of Orpheus, Amphion and Arion, &c. Neither did they ever such miracles and wonders since they were separated, as when they were conjoyn'd.

That which first separated them, was, (I imagine) the Extravagancy and Fantasticalness of some instrumental Musitians, introducing into the Art, so much division, with their crocheting and quavering, as Musick could afterwards no more express a word intire, then a River divided into too many branches, support that weighty Burthen it did before: Besides, whereas formerly when they sung in Chorus, they sang altogether the same words; now their counterpoint has rendred our vocal Musick so disjointed and confus'd, as we can no longer understand the words they sing. To reduce them to their former unity and simplicity, divers have labour'd in the Psalmody of the Church (in our fore-Fathers daies) as in these of ours, in their R • • i • ative Musick for the Stage; but they could never do such wonders with it, as formerly they did; nor ever will, till People and the world return again to their former simplicity: Besides, 'tis Novelty that chief • y begets Admiration; and for that, in point of Musick and Poetry, Ancient Times will alwayes have the advantage and start of ours.

Yet certainly our Musick is much more Artificial than theirs, with whom a discord was an unheard-of thing, and going out of the Air, an unpardonable fault. Besides, our Musical Instruments are much more improv'd. But the more 〈◊〉 Advance in Art (perhaps) the farther we recede from Nature; and 'tis that which chiefly moves the passions and affections of men.

What their Ancient Musick was, there are •• areely left any footsteps or memorials to inform us, excepting only the Nam • s of Dorick, Phrygian, Ionick, Lydian or AE • lick; to which if we onely compare our Pipes, or Wind Instruments, as our Organs, Flutes, or Recorders, to their grave and solemn Dorick; our Cornets or Trumpets, to their Warlike Phrygian; our W • i • s 〈◊〉 Hautboies, to their Enthusiatick Ionick or Eolian; and our Scotch or Bag-pipes, to their Bacchick Lydian: The magnificent opinion we may have conceived of them, would as soon vanish (perhaps), as Mountains did of Architecture, when he found all their Tearms of Art, which he Admir'd so much before, of Freez, Coronish, Plinthe & Archetrave, &c. in an old Chimney of his, which no body took notice of. Or, I could liken the Italian to their Pathetick or Enthusiack Musick; the French to their sweet and melting Ayres; the Spanish to their loud and hawty Tones; and the English Iiggs, or Scotish Lyds, to their light and Frantick Bacchick Tunes, but that I study Brevity, as much as Musick, or Poetry.

I will conclude then, That there is nothing found in the one, that is not in the other, of Elegance, Grace and Ornament, both so little comporting with Mediocrity, as unless either arrive to Excellence, they are counted no better then Minstrelry, or Ballating.

TIS Fabled, that Mercury god of Eloquence, distributing to every Nation their several Lan • uages; out of certain Vases or Phiols, (in which, by Reason of their f • uidness they were contain'd) flying over England, and having exhausted all his store, was forc'd to compose them a Language out of the Remains of all the rest; of which (say they) the English Tongue is onely the Dregs and Lees; but abusively; for certainly, we having our choice of all, and being our own Mercurys, were Fools s • u'd we not chuse the best of every one.

'Tis certain, that our Language is but a mixture of other Languages: and as certain that all our Neighbour- • n • s are the • ike; your French, Spanish a • d Italian having a deep mixture of the Latin • most of your Northern Nations of the Dutch, as the Oriental of the Arabick, or Sclavonian, there being but few Original Languages in the world.

For ours, the best notion I can give you of it, is, That it is French Embrothered upon Dutch, with some few Additions of other Languages, (all our monosillables being Dutch, and our compounds, French and Latine,) the Dutch, or Saxon, first expelling the British-Tongue, then the French or Norman, usurping upon that; till at last, it became neither Dutch nor French, but somewhat of both, or a • ungril of either.

Certainly for wit and facetiousness, we yield unto no other Nation, n • i • her for figurative speaking by Allusions and metaphor; they speaking but simply, whose words infold not some do • ble meaning, or somewhat beyond the bare words which they pronounce

Neither is it a dull sluggish Language, like the Dutch or Turkish, in which you shall never hear a witty j • st, or good conceit, but is capable of as much quickness, wit, fancy, and conceit, as any other Language, and the Nation is as well fitted for it too; only it is defective in superlatives and diminitives, and has not so many complements as the French, nor so vast Hyperbolies, as the Italian, to say, schavo di vestre seignorie; nor wish them dieci milli anni, whom they wish health unto; which is rather a commendation of the Nation, and a mark of their well-meaning and sincerity, that they can't dissemble, nor enlarge themselves so far beyond the Truth.

In fine, for copiousness and variety of expressions, it yields to none No Comedy being too light▪ nor Tragedy too grave for it; though by Reason of our scituation, it has not that esteem nor vouge as the French, (for Example) who being scituated in the midst of Europe, and the concourse of all Nations, your Travellers are necessitated to learn their Language, under pain of being Tongue-tyed whilst they pass along.

Another Reason that makes our Language the less esteem'd, is it's many monosillables (derived from the Dutch) which makes it nothing so resounding as other Languages; (And strangers judge of the goodness of a Language, as they do of Bells▪ or Mu •• cal-Instruments only by the so • nd) 〈◊〉 the principal grace of words, b • ing 〈◊〉 the Cadence or Ending, where 〈◊〉 word for strength is able to sustain 〈…〉 ours comes so faintly and weakly 〈◊〉 t'one is forc't to fall on t'other 〈…〉 support.

Notwithstanding, if we 〈…〉 take a little pains to smooth and 〈◊〉 our Language, as the Fren • h 〈…〉 an does, by liquifying all 〈…〉 pronounciation • , (as we 〈…〉 pronouncing our harsh Dutch 〈◊〉 ) and would not stick so close to 〈◊〉 •• thography, but write as we sp • ak, and speak more clearly and distin ••• y 〈◊〉 we do; we need not envie oth • rs L •• guages, nor speak (as some do) 〈◊〉 co • temptibly of our own.

I Know not under what Constellation I was born, that it has alwayes been my Fortune to live amongst the best and noblest of woman-kind; but I am sure, she'as been a happy and fortunate one for me; for there I have seen nothing but honourable and vertuous; there as in a Sanctuary I have liv'd, protected from the Vices of the Time; and there (if any where) I have found that saying true, That if vertue could be seen with mortal eyes 'twould ravish all with Admiration and Reverence.

I deny not, but vertue may likewise be found 'mongst men, but 'tis an Austere and Rigid one, not much different from that which you shall find in Cells, and Cloysters, rather deterring with its rigour and austerity, then any ways attracting with sweetness and gentleness; besides, 'tis a quarrellous and contentious one, that would force every one to its opinion, and for my part, like him in the Fable, if the Sun by its sweetness and Gentleness cannot do it, the wind certainly by Rufling and blustering, never shall.

Now amongst them, (on the contrary) you find nothing but sweetness and gentleness, accompanied with such awful Majesty and Gravity, as whilst they attract to a certain distance, they there suspend you with Reverence and Admiration; nor needs there any frowning looks to do it, since as one said well, Beauty is Regnum sine satellitio, a Kingdom that needs no force to guard it: if it guard not it self, all other force is vain; and frowning and ill looks will never do it. With good Reason then, they make all vertus of the Feminine Sex, since vertue in a fair Body, as Virgil says, is alwayes most grateful and becoming; and it implies a certain Congruity, that the richest Iewels shu'd be conserv'd in the fairest Cabinets; besides, there is a kind of necessity, as well for nobility of Form, as bloud; To be Good and Vertuous, not to degenerate from the stock and origine from whence they came.

This Testimony then, I will give of the Truth and Them, That I never saw greater Innocence, higher Honour, more Vertue, nor truer Chearfulness then amongst them: and above all, none better dispos'd for piety and devotion; without which, all the rest would easily fall to ruine, and decay, like buildings, wanting their foundation. Mean time, I deny not, but there are many to be found who are not so; but then they are no longer to be counted noble nor beautiful; there being a certain baseness and deformity in vice, that deprives them both of Beauty and Nobleness, and like Traytors to their Soveraign Prince, degrades them of all the honour and dignity they had before.

WHen any hide their Vices, I shall never seek to discover them; and a well-palliated Vice, shall pass for vertue with me at any time: but when they glory in them, and discover them themselves, they must pardon me, if I take notice of them, and tell them they glory in that, which they ought rather to be ashamed of; and seek Fame from that, which would be anothers Infamy.

There are few so mad, to Glory in their Corporal infirmities; and if they do, their Cures may well be dispaired of; yet thât these do in their spiritual ones, and never perceive how miserable they are, nor know they the whilst, what harm they do to others: for to do ill (most commonl • y) goes no farther then ones self; but to speak of it, is a spreading sin, and one knows not how far it goes: 'tis like oyle, which easily insinuates self into others minds, and afterwards so spreads and dilates it self, as the stain of it can ne're be wholly taken out again.

As the Weapon-salve cures at distance, so do those discourses wound, and they raise up more Spirits with them, like ignorant Conjurers, then they can lay again.

Amongst the rest, lascivious speeches are the most dangerous of all, for such is mans proneness to lust and the Lubriety of his mind; as 'tis well compared to Ice about the brink of some precipice, which of it self is so slippery, as they can hardly abstain from falling in; but when you add the Impulse of others, 'tis in a manner impossible.

Such then I shall avoid, as publick Impoysoners, or as those infected with the Plague, who long to communicate their contagion to others; and there is nothing more infectious, then such mens company.

Above all, I can least suffer them, when they talk profanely of God and of Religion; and 'tis but the duty of every Christian to reprehend them for it; for as he shu'd be counted no good subject, who could hear the King and State ill spoken of; so shu'd he be no good christian, who could hear the like of God and of Religion; and this is that which renders the state of such as these more desperate and deplorable, and wholly exempts them from the General pardon of other sinners; for if he who excuses his fault, redoubles it, he certainly who Glories in it, renders it a hundred times more inexcusable then before; for by the first, he only offends God; but by this he Braves him too; and the first may be repented of, and so forgiven; but in this they are so far from repenting it, and consequently of being forgiven, as they declare a will of committing it again.

I Knew a Noble man, who was wont to say, when he saw any one bravely vitious indeed, That they were valianter then he, who durst be damn'd: And though we are not lightly to judge so of any one; yet when we see any professedly wicked and Irreligious, 'tis much to be feared, that they are in a damnable state; for there are two things conducing to • alvation, a Good Life, and Good Religion; and the one without the other, nothing avails us, (as the Apostle sayes) towards the attaining of Eternal Life.

For the first, our Rule is the Commandments of Almighty God, which whosoever transgresses, is in danger of damnation. For the second, the Evangil of our Saviour Christ, tells us, that out of his Church, there is no Salvation.

Of the first there is no doubt; since even the very Heathens themselves by the only light of Nature, held absolutely necessary for a Good Life, the observance of all that God has commanded us: for the second, there is much doubt even amongst Christians themselves: Some holding they may be sav'd in all Religions, as well Christian, as Iewish or Pagan, &c. And if so, what needed our Saviour to have come into the world to teach us a new Religion, since there were old Religions enow in the world before?

Others again are of opinion, That in all Christian Religions they may be sav'd, at least; and if so, what needed the Holy Scripture so nicely to distinguish betwixt the True Church of Christ, and Herisies, pronouncing all Hereticks infallibly damned, or such as adher'd to their private opinions, against the Generally received ones of the Church? which being so, Theotima, all who have any care of their salvation, besides living well, are to endeavour to follow the Religion anciently instituted by our Saviour Christ, and to insist on the foot-steps of the ancient Christians to find it out; which however obscur'd by length of time, may yet by those who diligently seek, be easily discovered.

Since then our Saviour has said, that Seducers should come, but that his Church should never fail; Let us not hearken to these new start-up Teachers, crying out, here is Christ, and there is Christ, so long, till they make many doubt whether there be any Christ or no; which is all the fruit of their new Doctrines, to make people doubt of the old, and be certain of nothing; nor will there ever be an end of them, till they return into the old again: For if it be lawful for any man to begin a new Religion, another will presently start up, and cry, Why not I, as well as he? and so they will at last increase to Infinite. As we tender then our salvation, Theotima, let us hold firm unto the old, which our Saviour himself has instituted and taught us, who sayes of himself, That he is the Way, the Truth, and the Life; the Way, in which we cannot err; the Truth, by which we cannot be deceived; and the Life, in which, and by which, we are to live Eternally.

YOu are the first, Theotima, who encouraged me to write of spiritual matters; from which, I confess, I was but too much discouraged before, by the Libertines of the Time, who make no more of God, • or Godly things, then they did of the King and his Regalities, in the dayes of Rebellion. But where should I find Readers when I have done? when besides your self, and some few others resembling you, it is a Language none now adayes understand more then old • sk, or the Punick and Carthagenian Tongue? when I shall find opportunity, I shall not be wanting to it; but for importunity, this is not a Time nor Place. There are spiritual Books enow already, unless they were better followed; and enow of Religion, unless they were better understood. Mean time, I thank you for the good opinion you have of me, to think me capable of so good a work; whilst some are so scrupulous, as they should think themselves damned, if they should but laugh; and have so little scruple on t'other side, as to think me little better, because I am not as melancholly as themselves.

I thank God, I have always been a profest Enemy to Vice; and although this be but a negative kind of Vertue, yet 'tis somwhat, as the world goes now, where those may be counted Saints, who are not altogether Sinners; as those who are not altogether knaves, may be counted honest men; and I thank God, I am still constant to my first principles, as you will see by these pieces which I send you here; which though they are not so spiritual as you desire, tend towards it, yet at least, in a moral way; and credit me, Theotima, We have as much need now of Morality as Divinity; and 'tis but a preposterous way, to perswade the t'one without the other, or seek to plant vertue and piety in their hearts, without clearing them first of vice and impiety. This then is the way, Theotima, which I have ta'n, which if I find but approved by you, I shall with the more chearfulness pursue it, and glory in the Title of being