As for your part, Madam, you have me so more than ever, fince I have been a witness to the generous tenderness you have fhewn upon this occafion. Your, &c.

I

LETTER XVII.

Am not at all concern'd to think that this letter

may be less entertaining than fome I have fent: I know you are a friend that will think a kind letter as good as a diverting one. He that gives you his mirth makes a much less present than he that gives you his heart; and true friends would rather fee fuch thoughts as they communicate only to one another, than what they fquander about to all the world. They who can set a right value upon any thing, will prize one tender, well meant word, above all that ever made them laugh in their lives. If I did not think fo of you, I should never have taken much pains to endeavour to please you, by writing, or any thing elfe. Wit, I am fure, I want; at least in the degree that I fee others have it, who would at all feafons alike be entertaining; but I would willingly have fome qualities that may be (at fome seasons) of more comfort to myself, and of more service to my friends. I would cut off my own head, if it had nothing better than wit in it; and tear out my own heart, if it had no better difpofitions than to love only myself, and laugh at all my neighbours.

I know you'll think it an agreeable thing to hear that I have done a great deal of Homer. If it be tolerable, the world may thank you for it: for if I could have feen you every day, and imagin'd my company could have every day pleafed you, I fhould fcarce have thought it worth my while to please the world. How many verfes could I gladly have left unfinish'd, and turn'd into it, for people to say what they would of, had I been permitted to pafs all thofe hours more pleafingly? Whatever some may think, Fame is a thing I am much lefs covetous of, than your Friendship; for that, I hope, will laft all my life; the other I cannot answer for. What if they fhould both grow greater after my death? alas! they would both be of no advantage to me! Therefore think upon it, and love me as well as ever you can, while I live.

Now I talk of fame, I fend you my Temple of Fame, which is just come out: but my

fentiments

about it you will fee better by this Epigram.

What's Fame with Men, by cuftom of the Nation,
Is call'd in Womer only Reputation:

About them both why keep we fuch a pother ?

Part you

with one,

and I'll renounce the ather.

A

LETTER XVIII.

LL the pleasure or use of familiar letters, is to give us the affurance of a friend's welfare; at leaft 'tis all I know, who am a mortal enemy and defpifer of what they call fine letters. In this view, I promise you, it will always be a fatisfaction to me to write letters and to receive them from you; becaufe I unfeignedly have your good at my heart, and am that thing, which many people make only a fubject to display their fine fentiments upon, a Friend: which is a character that admits of little to be faid, till fomething may be done. Now let me fairly tell you, I don't like your ftyle: 'tis very pretty, therefore I don't like it; and if you writ as well as Voiture, I would not give a farthing for fuch letters, unless I were to fell them to be printed. Methinks I have loft the Mrs. L* I formerly knew, who writ and talked like other people (and sometimes better.) You must allow me to fay, you have not said a fenfible word in all your letter, except where you speak of fhewing kindness and expecting it in return: but the addition you make about your being but two and twenty, is again in the ftyle of wit and abomination. To fhew you how very unfatisfactorily you write, in all your letters you've never told me how you do. Indeed I fee 'twas abfolutely necellary for me to write to you, before you continued to take more notice of me, for I ought to tell you what you

are to expect; that is to fay, Kindness, which I never fail'd (I hope) to return; and not Wit, which if I want, I am not much concern'd, because judgment is a better thing; and if I had, I would make ufe of it rather to play upon those I despised, than to trifle with thofe I loved. You, fee in short, after what manner you may most agreeably write to me: tell me you are my friend, and you can be no more at a lofs about that article. As I have open'd my mind upon this to you, it may alfo ferve for Mr. H—, who will fee by it what manner of letters he muft expect if he corresponds with me. As I am too seriously yours and his fervant to put turns upon you instead of good wishes, so in return I should have nothing but honeft plain How-d'ye's and Pray remember me's; which not being fit to be shown to any body for wit, may be a proof we correspond only for ourselves, in mere friendlinefs; as doth, God is my witness,

I

Your very, &c.

LETTER XIX.

T is with infinite fatisfaction I am made acquaint

ed that your brother will at last prove your relation, and has entertained such sentiments as become him in your concern. I have been prepared for this by degrees, having feveral times received from Mrs. * that which is one of the greatest pleasures, the knowledge that others entered into my own fen

timents concerning you. I ever was of opinion that you wanted no more to be vindicated than to be known. As I have often condoled with you in your adverfities, fo I have a right, which but few can pretend to, of congratulating on the profpect of your better fortunes; and I hope, for the future, to have the concern I have felt for you overpaid in your felicities. Tho' you modeftly say the world has left you, yet, I verily believe, it is coming to you again as fast as it can: for, to give the world its due, it is always very fond of Merit when 'tis past its power to oppose it. Therefore, if you can, take it into favour again upon its repentance, and continue in it. But if you are refolved in revenge to rob the world of fo much example as you may afford it, I believe, your defign will be vain; for even in a monaftery your devotions cannot carry you so far toward the next world as to make this lofe the fight of you; but, you'll be like a ftar, that, while it is fixed to heaven, shines over all the earth.

Wherefoever Providence fhall difpofe of the most valuable thing I know, I fhall ever follow you with my fincerest wishes, and my best thoughts will be perpetually waiting upon you, when you never hear of me nor them. Your own guardian angels cannot be more conftant, nor more filent. I beg you will never cease to think me your friend, that you may not be guilty of that which you never yet knew to commit, an injuftice. As I have hitherto been fo