I Have had more Leisure than I desir'd, to send you what you demanded of me at parting; and the Winds, instead of carrying away my promise, have given me time to keep it. They have already detain'd me here this eight days. It would certainly have been very tedious if I had not brought those Thoughts with me from London, which will entertain me yet a great while longer. I'll assure you, you have your share of them, and that my best Thoughts are still employ'd about you, or about those Things which I saw by your means.

[Page 96]You may well mistrust that I am not now talk­ing of the Tower or the Lyons, which you were pleas d to shew me. In one person only, you made me see a greater Treasure than I found there; and One who is at the same time more Cruel than even the Lyons or the Leopards. Af­ter all this, you will quickly perceive 'tis the Countess of Carlile, of whom I am speaking. For there is none besides her, of whom I can say so much Good, and so much Ill. What­ever danger there is in remembring her, I have not yet been able to forbear it. And to be sincere, I would not part with the Idea I have of her in my Breast, for all that I have seen of what is most Fair, or most desirable in the World. I must confess she is all over a very Bewitching Lady; and there would not be a person under Heaven so worthy to be Belov'd, if she knew what Love was, or if her Soul were but as Sensible, as it is Reasonable.

We can say nothing of her in the condition we know her, but that she is the most Lovely of all things which are not good, and the most agreeable Poyson that ever Nature made. I fear her Wit so much, that I was once resolv'd not to let you have the Verses I send you; for I know she distinguishes in all things, what is Good and what is ill, and that the Goodness which ought to be in her Will, is wholly con­fin'd to her Judgment. I shall be little con­cern'd [Page 97] if she condemns them; they are not worthy of a better fortune; they were made be­fore I had the Honour to know Her; and I should be sorry if had, till now, prais'd or blam'd any one to Perfection, since I reserve both the one and the other for her.

As to you, Sir, I will not make any Excuse, I pretend you are very much oblidg'd to me, and ought to take it kindly that you have been able to perswade me to send you some bad Verses. I can assure you 'tis the only Copy I ever writ twice over; And if you know how Lazy I am, you will reckon my Obedience in this, no small proof of the Power you have over me, and of the Passion, with whlch I would be,

TO Madam SAINTOT, Sent with an Orlando Furioso.

THis, Madam, is certainly the Noblest Ad­venture of Orlando. For now that he has the Honour to Kiss your Hands, he performs something more for his own Glory, than when he forc'd Scepters from the hands of Kings, and alone, defended the [...]rown of Charles the Great. The Title of Furioso, with which he has past all over the World, ought not to deter you from doing him that Honour. For I am confident, that in approaching you, he will become more Discreet, and as soon as he sees you; will forget [Page 99] his Angelica. At least this I know by Experience, that you have wrought a greater Miracle than this, and with one Word have Cur'd a Folly more dangerous than his. And indeed 'twould be more Improbable than any thing Ariosto has told us of him, if he were not sen­sible of the Advantage you have over that La­dy; and if he did not confess, that she would never have so much need, as in your pre­sence to fly to the Assistance of her In­chanted Ring. All the Famous Knights in the World were not proof against the Charms of that Beauty. She never struck the Eyes of any, but at the same time she wounded an Heart, and Inflam'd with her Love, as many Parts of the World, as the Sun Enlightens; yet that Beauty was but a Picture ill Drawn of the wonderful Things we admire in you.

All the Collours of Poetry cannot Paint you so Fair as we behold you; nor can the Imagina­tion of Poets reach to such a height. The Chambers of Chrystal and the Palaces of Di­amonds, which you will read of here, are far more easy to be imagin'd. And the Enchant­ments of Amadis, which appear to you so In­credible, are hardly more Incredible than your Own. At the first sight, to seize upon Souls the most Resolute, and the least made for Ser­vitude; to Create in them a sort of Love, which is sensible of Reason and Ignorant both of Hope and Desire; to Transport with Plea­sure [Page 100] and Glory, the Minds of those from whom you have Ravish't Repose and Liberty, and to render those perfectly satisfied with you, to whom you never were but Cruel. These are effects more strange and more distant from Probability, than the Hippogrifes and flying Chariots of Ariosto, or any of the most Admi­rable things Romances tell us of. If I shou'd continue this Discourse, I shou'd make a Book larger than this I send you. But this Cavalier, who is not us'd to give place to any Man, is impatient to see me Address you so long, and therefore Advances to Raccount you himself the History of his Amours. 'Tis a Favour which you have often refus'd to me. Yet I suffer him to do it without Jealousy, tho he is so much happier than I, since he has promis'd me, in re­turn, to present you with these Lines, and oblige you to read them before any thing else.

This is an Enterprise which requires a Courage equal to his, to undertake, and yet I am doubt­ful how it will succeed with him; however, me­thinks 'tis but just, that since I give him the Means to Entertain you with his Passion, he shou'd acquaint you with something of Mine, and that amongst so many Fables he should inform you of some Truths. I know you will not always be inclin'd to hear them; tho since [Page 101] you are to be Touch't by none of them, and that my respect is too much a Trifle to move your Resentment, there can be no great Dan­ger in letting you know, that I esteem you alone above all the rest of the World: To com­mand which, I should not be so Proud, as to O­bey you.

TO Mr. WALTER At ROME.

WE admir'd we heard nothing from you in a long time; but by your last we per­ceive you were making a Tour from Rome to Naples, and kept us in suspence during your ab­sence from Rome, that you might make us more happy when you came back, in a Discription of what you saw at Naples. You remember, Sir, how often I envy'd you the Happiness you were going to Enjoy in the prospect of those Delicious Countries, which gave birth to the best Muses of Antiquity. I have since often wish'd my self with you in your Pilgrimage to Virgils Tomb.

[Page 103]But now we can hear of your being at Rome, Naples, Mantua, Verona, &c. without the least Emulation. We could no longer have any sa­tisfaction in treading those paths which were before trod by Catullus, Virgil, and Horace. For a Person of good Quality has assur'd us, the Ancients were a parcel of thoughtless, musty Fellows; that Virgil can hardly pass on him for a good maker of Ditties, and his Georgicks are fit only for Plow-men and Drovers. That Horace must give place to Mr. D—y; but truly Catullus had a pretty merry way with him, tho we have a great many People of Quality who are more Gay, and understand Delicacy, Love and Gallantry much better.

I think you never design'd to go so far as the Morea, or to pay a Visit to Old Athens; and 'tis well you did not give your self that trouble. The Greeks have utterly lost their Reputation; you would not have been respected a whit the more for breathing over the Ashes of Sophocles, Euripides and Menander. Homer's Achillis, is no more to us now, than a Don Bellianis, and The­ocritus is oblidg'd to Veil the Bonnet to some of our Sawneys and Jockeys.

But if this Honourable Critick has been so severe with the Ancients, he is wondrous kind to the Moderns. He has secur'd Prince Arthur's Reputation, and thinks it, at least, sit to be com­par'd with Milton's Paradice Lost. We must [Page 104] confess the Poem stands fair in the Opinion of some honest, well-meaning Gentlemen. But you will never forgive any Man, by what Name or Title soever Dignifi'd or Distinguish'd, who shall draw such Paralels between Dr. B— and Mr. Milton.

The Dr. is not the only Poet who is hap­py in the good Graces of this Nice Gentleman; he has taken on him to Praise Mr. C— who, he says, has Matter enough about him to make ten Virgils; and to shew you he is no Niggard, he throws you in a Theocritus, into the bar­gain: You have often agreed with me, that Mr. C— has a great deal of Merit, and you know we were very glad the Town treated it so civilly at its first appearance, especially in an Age, when People seem to have lost their Relish in Poetry: But you will not consent to every thing, the Person of Honour has said on this Subject. Neither, I suppose, will Mr. C— be oblidg'd to one who shall Print his Panegy­rick with a Libel on Virgil.

Thus in a moment the Moderns have got the start of the Ancients: You have Travell'd to a fine purpose; most of the Advantages you pro­posed to your self by it, are destroy'd, since what can be more Ungrateful to us now, than the Names of those Great Men, who made a Figure in the Days of Augustus? But for your comfort, there are some of us that get secretly [Page 105] a corner and Read over Virgil and Horace, with the same pleasure and admiration, which like an innocent Man, you may think they still de­serve. We will with joy hear you Discourse of the little Remains you saw of them, and if you could bring us the least Relick of them, we would find out some place private enough to Adore it, inspite of the ill treatment they meet with.

After I have said so much of these late Cri­ticisms, and of the affairs of Wit and Learning, you may expect a little News from the Theatre; you hear the Town gives Incouragement to two Stages, and there is the oddest Emulation amongst 'em that can be Imagin'd. For instead of striving who shall get the best Plays, they are both Industri­ous to secure the worst; The Old House had for a while in this the Advantage of the New; for they got Mr— amongst them; but the New scorn'd to be out done by such Youngsters, and engag'd Mr—, tho' perhaps you don't think Mr. D— is less intollerable than the other Play Wright. However, for true substan­tial Dulness in Tragedy, the New House has indisputably the better of 'em; no Man must in this, pretend to Rival Mr. B— who has at last convinc'd us he is capable of writing a Play more Insipid than any of his former. Thus between the two Houses we are every week presented with a New Monster; I think [Page 106] they ought to hang out the Picture of it, that we may see how we like it before we Enter; 'tis what others, in the same case, make a Con­science of.

The Old House about two Months ago, made amends for the fatigues of a whole Winter; they gave us Oroonoko, a Tragedy, written by Mr. Sou­thern, with as much purity and force, as any we have yet had from that Great Man. I cant say 'tis Regular enough, but had it been more Correct, we should not easily have known which of Mr. Otways Plays to prefer before it. The New House, to shew they can be as Com­plaisant sometimes, as the Old, presented us lately with a tolerable good Comedy, call'd, Lovers Luck, written by a Gentleman in the Army: I saw it once, and tho I dare not vindicate it, I think 'tis the best of the kind we have had since you left us.

You tell me you did not give me a larger De­scription of what you saw Remarkable at Na­ples, &c. it being big enough for a Volume; you see I don't consi [...]er this when I write to my Friends, I wish you may as easily excuse the length of this, as I would pardon such a freedom in you. I wish you may enjoy a thousand plea­sures in the Carnival which you are to pass at Venice, and when that is over, let me tell you, there are no Excuses which ought to keep you any longer from us.

TO N. B—, Esq At ENFIELD.

I Receiv'd from you lately a very Sententious and Grave Epistle suitable indeed to the importance and dignity of the Subject, being in Praise of Matrimony; but why you should Address such a Discourse to me of all Mankind, is what, at first, I could not easily comprehend. You know very well I was never one of those Witty Gentlemen who are always railing at Wo­men and Marriage, as some People make Speeches against the Court, with a design to get Places there. I find the Trick miscarries so often, and see so many of these Satirist; [Page 108] Live with the scandal of old Batchelors, that I am resolv'd to make my Peace with the Fair as soon as possible.

You were not wholly Ignorant of this dispo­sition of mine, when you wrote your Letter; and on serious consideration of your proceed­ings, I must tell you plainly, that unless you had some further design in it, you would have thrown away a great deal of very good Mora­lity, abundance of fine Sayings and Quotati­ons to no purpose in the World. They had been all lost on me, for I was as fully per­swaded before of what you say, as I believe you to be sincere when you writ it. However, I am surpris'd at your excellent Temper and Moderation, for upon some accounts I should have sooner expected from you a Satire, than a Panegirick on a Marri'd Life; and when you speak well of it, it must be confest you show your self the most impartial, and freest from Prejudice of any Man, since your own Provo­cations cannot tempt you to speak against your Conscience.

This Letter of yours, were it to be Publish'd, and your Circumstances a little better known, were enough to convert some of our most ob­stinate Marriage-haters; they would see here a person who has suffer'd from Marriage the injury of Relations, and the inconvenience of a Wife, yet offering himself to Vindicate it to [Page 109] the last. This would be a stronger Argument for it, than any of those you have us'd to me, and they would be apt to fancy there are those Secret pleasures in this blessed state, perhaps in the disturbances of it, which none know but such as are in it.

My Friend Mr. Oldmixon has seen your Letter, and joins with me in admiring the Sagacity of it; he is no Marriage-hater I assure you, but what, he says, makes him wonder most, is that being sensible how vexatious it must be to have a Wife out of her Wits, you should still preserve your own, and that being deni'd the priviledg of a Husband, you should never take the li­berties of a Batchelour; in this he thinks you might have some relief, if you were not so well con­tented, and so much in Love with your Con­dition; And you must certainly be very well pleas'd with it, when you are always tempt­ing others to Conform to the Doctrine of Ma­trimony, unless, as we are told in some other cases; you design to betray us into the noose, that you may have Companions in your Misfortune, and laugh at the mischief you have done. And you give me, Sir, some reasons to mistrust your intention at the close of your Letter, when you recommend the ill Natur'd Lady to me for a Mistress. I cannot help suspecting that you [Page 110] would be very glad to have me as near you own Circumstances as possible, when the choice you have made for me so nearly resembles that which you were pleas'd to make for your self.

Well, Sir, I agree to your sage Councels, and will give you the Honour of making me a Con­vert, since you seem so much to affect it; tho I assure you, I was far from being in a ne­cessity of your Admonition in this matter, and to speak my mind freely, if I had not been prepossest before with an ill Opinion of my pre­sent state, your Reasons would not have had so compleat a Victory, as you may now boast of; the fine froward Lady you wish me to, might have still liv'd without a Servant, and have lost a very pretty opportunity to show her Talent at Scolding: I wish to God you could change that fault of hers, for any other. I can never beat it out of my Head, but there must be a great deal of plague in Noise, Peevishness, &c. tho you know best indeed how far that is tollerable; and I am resolv'd to take the Advice of People of Experience.

Bring me then to my Mistriss, as soon as you please; secure me in all her other Fair [Page 111] Endowments; give me your promise that I shall clear my self of my Spouse, as easily as you got rid of yours, and see if I am not her, and,

TO Mr. Freeman.

IF I were, of all Men, the most Extrava­gant and Whimsical, you, who were once guilty of the same weaknesses, should be the last to Condemn me, since the Passion that robs me of my Reason, has before had the same effects on your self; you have been long enough blest by it, to forget its former Injuries; and were I to be as happy in my Love, as you have been in yours, I would give you no more cause to complain of my being troublesome, or disturbing your Conversa­tion with Sighs, Groans, Rants, and an Innu­merable multitude of Complaints, &c.

[Page 113]I mistrust, indeed, there are a great many persons in the World who would believe me a very improper Man to make a Husband, were they to see me in some of those fits which you Ad­vise me to be Cur'd of. But these are persons who never felt the Power of Love. 'Tis true, they are Husbands, and we ought to suppose that all in those Circumstances were first in Min [...]. We ought to suppose it, if we did not see every day that a Man may easily be an Husband, without being a Lover, or concerning himself any farther about his Mistress, than adjusting her Portion, and Compounding the Settlement. These are your Modern Husbands, and your Modern Lovers; and this is the reason why the Age is so plentifully Stock'd with a sort of Animals, which the An­tients us'd to shew for Monsters, as we would now a Rhinoceros, or an Ʋnicorn. But thanks to our Stars, Custom has prevail'd on us to look on them with less Astonishment; and even our Children can now play with them, with­out being Frighted.

[Page 114]I know some Men, who if they were to Marry, I should suspect they would serve their Wives, as a Friend of mine [...]es his Books, lay them on the Shelf, [...] [...]ever touch them, but when they [...] so much in his way that he cannot [...]pe them, who when ever he favours [...] Author so far as to bring him into his Closet, we know presently he never in­tends to Read him. But we that are his Friends are asham'd to see a good Li­brary grow mouldy for want of use, and tumble it over, as freely as if it were our own Property.

The negligence and disrespect of the generality of Husbands would be prevent­ed, if People were ne [...] to Marry be­fore [...]y give suff [...]cient proofs of their Passion, [...] that Interest is not the only Reason of [...]heir Engagements: Or if the Proofs we [...] did not lye under the scan­dal of [...], which you seem to [...] There are, I confess, in Lo [...], as well as Religion, a Crowd of False Pretenders; and those who talk most of their Sincerity, are most [Page 115] to be suspected. The Enthusiasts in both Cases are to be seldom Trusted: But though we meet with several Instances of their Trenchery, we should not cen­sure all of them for Hippocrites, since we must own, that such as are most Devout, will some times be oblidg'd to discover their Flames: And by their Warmth and Gesture we may Distin­guish very often the True Zeal from the Affected.

You may consider then how far I am to be believ'd; and I could almost dare you to declare publickly, whether you don't think my Extravagance and Un­reasonableness (as you term it) are the most Lawful and Reasonable of any you ever met with; or whether they ever gave you cause to mistruct that I Dissembled? Or whether, when you Reflect on the Advantages Corinna has above all other Women, you do not Excuse me for Loving her to such an Ex­tremity?

This, Sir, I think you must in Justice declare, and then I shall never repent me of a folly which brings me so many Satisfactions, nor desire to be Cur'd, but [Page 116] by the same Remedies which succeeded on you; and I dare you further to Pub­lish whether in the height of my Di­straction, I forgot once my Duty to my Friends.

TO Dr. M—n.

I Am of your Opinion, that Mr. Cow­ley succeeded better in his Anacreon­tiques, than in his other Poems. But he Affected to have a Universal Genius, and that may be the Reason why so great a Wit has left us so Little that is Excellent: We find in all his Writ­ings a Luxuriant Fancy; but 'tis every where Crowded with trivial Points and Turns; the one sometimes very unnatural, & [Page 118] the other seldom truly Delicate. Tho you Commanded me to give you my Opinion on his Anacreontiques, you did not desire me to say any thing of his Pindariques. You knew very well I would Excuse my self if you had; whether I like 'em or not, there is so much due to the man who first Introdc'd this way of writing amongst us, that none, but the Pro­phane will venture to disturb his Ashes. If Mr. Rimer had thus consider'd his Duty to Shakespear, as he was the Father of our Stage, he would have sav'd himself, and the World, a great deal of Trouble and Scandal.

Mr. Dryden has frequently given us a Character of Mr. Cowley's other Verses, but he never said any thing of those writ­ten in imitation of Anacreon. 'Tis true, that great Poet is above this Manner, his Genius cannot Stoop to such Petty Em­ployments; But this must not excuse o­thers, who have not his Qualifications, and yet take the same Liberty to think themselves above an Ode or an Elegy. They reckon them amongst the Low Poetry, and nothing can please them now, but [Page 119] Heroick's, Pindarick's, or Tragedy. I have known some who have succeeded in a Madrigal, presently conclude them­selves Inspir'd, and nothing would sa­tisfy them, but they must Venture on an Heroick Poem. You will scarce be­lieve me if I should tell you that an Honest Rhiming Hosier is at this time busie in the Second Part of Prince Ar­thur. I must confess these things are a­bove my Reach; and I never thought any Person Living capable to pretend to it but Mr. Dryden, and he who knows best what it is, knows also the Task is so difficult, that he durst not attempt it. I send you, inclos'd, the Second Ode of Anacreon in English, by comparing it with Mr. Cowley's, you will see best how much I differ from him in his Coppying Anacreon; Mr. Cowley confesses he has Translated it Paraphrasti­cally; and you will perceive where he mingles his own Thoughts with Anacre­ons, he does it very much to the disad­vantage of the Original. Anacreon comes directly on the Subject he Treats of, whilst Mr. Cowley turns and winds to shew his Wit and Learning.

[Page 120] Anacrean gives us one good Thought in an Ode, Adorning it with all the Flowers, and graces of a true Deli­cacy; and we like it much bet­ter than the strange Variety of some of his Imitators. He has in the Ode I send you, Exprest in Twelve words, what Mr. Cowley dwells on almost as many Lines. Some allowance must be made for the Language, but the Difference in the Expression is much more disproporti­onate. He would hardly have run a Division, when he came to, ‘ [...].’

Mr. Cowley.

Anacreon would have been loath to own,

[Page 121]He would have startled to have seen the conclusion of his Ode thus Para­phras'd.

This is a particular sort of Wit, which I am sure is very inconsistent with the Character of Anacreon; Nothing can be more Easy and Natural than this Thought in the Original, where the Translator has been so prodigal of his Points: But in good manners to the Sa­cred memory of Mr. Cowley, I ought not to say so much against it as I could.

[Page 122]Through the whole Ode, Mr. Cowley has not at all been exact in his Rhimes or Numbers: If there were no other Faults, this would be enough to Condemn him in things where a sweet Cadence is one of the Chiefest Graces; But every Body knows Mr. Cowley's Felicity was not his measure. However, we will forgive him this, with a great many other mistakes, for the Beau­ty of his Ode upon Age, which is a ma­ster-piece; and whoever pretends, to give us a Translation of Anacreon, must set that for his Pattern.

Thus, Sir, I have brought my Thoughts into as little a compass as possible; you have them freely, and without Prejudice, if what I have said will satisfy you for the present; hereafter you may expect some­thing more on this Subject,