and shall never want a corner where your idea will always lie as warm, and as clofe, as any idea in Christendom.

If this distance (as you are so kind as to fay) enlarges your belief of my friendship, I affure you, it has fo extended my notion of your value, that I begin to be impious upon that account, and to wish that even flaughter, ruin, and desolation may interpose between you and the place you design for; and that you were reftored to us at the expence of a whole people.

Is there no expedient to return you in peace to the bofom of your country? I hear you are come as far as -: do you only look back to die twice? is Eurydice once more fnatched to the fhades? If ever mortal had reason to hate the King, it is I, whose particular misfortune it is, to be almoft the only innocent perfon he has made to fuffer; both by his Government at home, and his Negotiations abroad.

If you must go from us, I wifh at leaft you might pafs to your banishment by the most pleasant way; that all the road might be roses and myrtles, and a thousand objects rife round you, agreeable enoughto make England lefs defirable to you. It is not now my intereft to wish England agreeable: It is highly probable it may use me ill enough to drive me from it. Can I think that place my country, where I cannot now call a foot of paternal Earth' my own? Yet it may feem fome alleviation, that when the wifeft thing I can do is to leave my country, what was most agreeable in it fhould firft be fnatched away from it.

I could overtake you with pleafure in, and make that tour in your company. Every reasonable entertainment and beautiful view would be doubly engaging when you partook of it. I fhould at least attend you to the fea coafts, and caft a look after the fails that tranfported you. But perhaps I might VOL. VII. L

care

care as little to stay behind you; and be full as uneafy to live in a country where I faw others perfeeuted by the rogues of my own religion, as where I was perfecuted myself by the rogues of yours. And it is not impoffible I might run into Áfia in search of liberty; for who would not rather live a freeman among a nation of flaves, than a flave among a nation of freemen?

In good earnest, if I knew your motions, and your exact time; I verily think, I should be once more happy in a fight of you next spring.

I'll conclude with a wifh, God fend you with us, or me with you.

You

LETTER XXII.

your me

will find me more troublesome than ever Brutus did his evil Genius; I fhall meet you in more places than one, and often refresh mory before you arrive at your Philippi. These fha dows of me (my letters) will be haunting you from time to time, and putting you in mind of the man who has really fuffer'd very much from you, and whom you have robb'd of the most valuable of his enjoyments, your converfation. The advantage of hearing your fentiments by discovering mine, was what I always thought a great one, and even worth the rifque I generally run of manifefting my own indifcretion. You then rewarded my truft in you the moment it was given, for you pleas'd or inform'd me the minute you anfwer'd. I muft now be contented with more flow returns. However, 'tis fome pleasure, that your thoughts upon paper will be a more lafting poffeffion to me, and that I fhall no longer have cause to complain of a lofs I have fo often regretted, that of any thing you faid, which I happen'd to forget. In earneft, Madam, if I were

to

to write to you as often as I think of you, it must be every day of my life. I attend you in fpirit thro all your ways, I follow you thro' every stage in books of travels, and fear for you thro' whole folio's; you make me fhrink at the paft dangers of dead travellers; and if I read of a delightful profpect, or agree able place, I hope it yet fubfifts to please you. I enquire the roads, the amufements, the company, of every town and country thro' which you país, with as much diligence, as if I were to fet out next week to overtake you. In a word, no one can have you more conftantly in mind, not even your Guardian-angel (if you have one) and I am willing to indulge fo much Popery as to fancy fome Being takes care of you, who knows your value better than you do yourself: I am willing to think that Heaven never gave so much felf-neglect and refolution to a woman, to occafion her calamity; but am pious enough to believe thofe qualities must be intended to conduce to her benefit and her glory.

Your firft fhort letter only ferves to fhow me you are alive it puts me in mind of the firft dove that return'd to Noah, and juft made him know it had found no reft abroad.

There is nothing in it that pleases me, but when you tell me you had no fea-fickness. I beg your next may give me all the pleafure it can, that is, tell me any that you receive. You can make no difcoveries that will be half fo valuable to me as thofe of your own mind. Nothing that regards the ftates or kingdoms you pass thro', will engage fo much of my curiofity or concern, as what relates to yourself: Your welfare, to fay truth, is more at my heart than that of Chriftendom.

I am fure I may defend the truth, tho' perhaps not the virtue, of this declaration. One is ignorant, or doubtful at best, of the merits of differing religions and governments: but private virtues one

L 2

can

can be fure of. I therefore know what particular Perfon has defert enough to merit being happier than others, but not what Nation deserves to conquer or opprefs another. You will fay, I am not publice, fpirited; let it be fo, I may have too many tenderneffes, particular regards, or narrow views; but at the fame time I am certain that whoever wants these, can never have a Public spirit; for (as a friend of mine fays) how is it poffible for that man to love twenty thousand people, who never loved one?"

I communicated your letter to Mr. C-, he thinks of you and talks of you as he ought, I mean as I do, and one always thinks that to be just as it ought.. His health and mine are now fo good, that we wish with all our fouls you were a witness of it. We never meet but we lament over you: we pay a kind of weekly rites to your memory, where we ftrow flowers of rhetoric, and offer fuch libations to your name as it would be profane to call Toafting. The Duke of B-m is fometimes the High Prieft of your praises; and upon the whole, I believe there are as few men that are not forry at your departure, as women that are; for, you know, moft of your fex want good fenfe, and therefore must want generofity: You have fo much of both, that, I am fure, you pardon them; for one cannot but forgive whatever one despises. For my part I hate a great many women for your fake, and undervalue all the rest. 'Tis you are to blame, and may God revenge it upon you, with all those bleffings and earthly profperities, which, the Divines tell us, are the cause of our perdition; for if he makes you happy in this world, I dare trust your own virtue to do it in the other. I am

Your, &c,

LET

LETTER

XXIII.

To Mrs. ARABELLA FERMOR.

On her Marriage.

are by this time satisfied how much the tenderness of one man of merit is to be preferred to the addresses of a thousand. And by this time the Gentleman you have made choice of is fenfible, how great is the joy of having all those charms and good qualities which have pleased so many, now applied to please one only. It was but just, that the fame Virtues which gave you reputation, should give you happiness; and I can wish you no greater, than that you may receive it in as high a degree yourself, as fo much good humour must infallibly give it to your husband.

It may be expected, perhaps, that one who has the title of Poet should fay fomething more polite on this occafion: But I am really more a well-wisher to your felicity, than a celebrater of your beauty. Befides, you are now a married woman, and in a way to be a great many better things than a fine lady; fuch as an excellent wife, a faithful friend, a tender parent, and at laft, as the confequence of them all, a faint in heaven. You ought now to hear nothing but that, which was all you ever defired to hear (whatever others may have spoken to you) I mean Truth and it is with the utmost that I affure you, no friend you have can more rejoice in any good that befals you, is more fincerely delighted with the profpect of your future happiness, or more unfeignedly defires a long continuance of it.

I hope, you will think it but juft, that a man who will certainly be spoken of as your admirer, after he is dead, may have the happiness to be esteemed, while he is living,

Your, &c.