most durable ground, and none could ever be met with, that would fo readily receive, or fo faithfully retain them, as this Heart. I may boldly fay of it, that you will not find its fellow in all the parts of the body in this book. But I must complain to you of my hand, which is an arrant traitor to my heart; for having been copying your picture from thence and from Kneller these three days, it has done all poffible injury to the finest face that ever was made, and to the livelieft image that ever was drawn. I have imagination enough in your absence, to trace fome resemblance of you; but I have been fo long us'd to lofe my judgment at the fight of you that it is past my power to correct it by the life. Your picture feems least like when placed before your eyes; and, contrary to all other pictures, receives a manifest disadvantage by being fet on the faireft light in the world. The Painters are a very vain generation, and have a long time pretended to rival nature; but to own the truth to you, fhe made fuch a finish'd piece about three and twenty years ago (I beg your pardon, Madam; I protest, I meant but two and twenty) that 'tis in vain for them any longer to contend with her. I know you indeed made one fomething like it, betwixt five and fix years paft: "Twas a little girl, done with abundance of fpirit and life, and wants nothing

but

but time to be an admirable piece: but, not to flatter your work, I don't think it will ever come up to what your father made. However I would not discourage you; 'tis certain you have a strange happiness, of making fine things of a fudden and at a stroke, with incredible ease and pleasure.

I am, &c.

LETTER II.

T is too much a rule in this town, that

IT

when a lady has once done a man a favour, he is to be rude to her ever after. It becomes our sex to take upon us twice as much as yours allow us; by this method I may write to you most impudently, because you once answered me modeftly; and if you fhould never do me that honour for the future, I am to think (like a true coxcomb) that your filence gives consent. Perhaps you wonder why this is address'd to you rather than to Mrs. M-, with whom I have the right of an old acquaintance, whereas you are a fine lady, have bright eyes, &c. First, Madam, I make choice of you rather than of your mother, because you are younger than your mother. Secondly, because I fancy you spell better, as having been at school later. Thirdly, because you have nothing to do but

to

to write if you please, and poffibly it may keep you from employing yourself worse it may fave some honest neighbouring gentleman from three or four of your peftilent glances. Caft your eyes upon paper, Madam, there you may look innocently: men are feducing, books are dangerous, the amorous ones foften you, and the godly ones give you the fpleen: If you look upon trees, they clafp in embraces; birds and beafts make love: the fun is too warm for

your blood; the moon melts you into yielding and melancholy. Therefore I fay once more, caft your eyes upon paper, and read only fuch letters as I write, which convey no darts, no flames, but proceed from innocence of foul, and fimplicity of heart. Thank God I am an hundred miles off from thofe eyes! I would fooner truft your hand than them for doing me mischief; and tho' I doubt not fome part of the rancour and iniquity of your heart will drop into your pen, yet fince it will not attack mé on a fudden and unprepar'd, fince I may have time while I break open your letter to cross myself and fay a Pater-nofter, I hope Providence will protect me from all you can attempt at this distance. I am told you are at this hour as handsome as an angel; for my part I have forgot your face fince two winters. You may be grown to a giantess for all I know. I can't

tell

you are a very

whom

tell in any respect what sort of creature you are, only that mifchievous one, I fhall ever pray, to be defended from. But when your Minifter fends me word you have the fmall-pox, a good many freckles, or are very pale, I will defire him to give thanks for it in your parish church; which as foon as he shall inform me he has done, I will make you a vifit without armour: I will eat any thing you give me without fufpicion of poifon, take you by the hand without gloves, nay venture to follow you into an arbour without calling the company. This, Madam, is the top of my wishes, but how differently are our defires inclined! You figh out, in the ardour of your heart, Oh play-houses, parks, operas, affemblies, London! I cry with rapture, Oh woods, gardens, rookeries, fifh-ponds, arbours! Mrs. M

LETTER III.

To a LAD Y.

Written on one column of a Letter, while Lady M. wrote to the Lady's Husband on the other.

T

HE wits would fay, that this must needs be a dull letter because it is a married one. I am afraid indeed you will find, what spirit

there

there is, must be on the fide of the wife, and the husband's part, as ufual, will prove the dulleft. What an unequal pair are put together in this fheet? in which, tho' we fin, it is you must do penance. penance. When you look on both fides of this paper, you may fancy that our words (according to a Scripture expreffion) are as a two-edg'd fword, whereof lady M. is the fhining blade, and I only the handle. But I can't proceed without fo far mortifying Sir Robert as to tell him, that the writes this purely in obedience to me, and that it is but one of those honours a husband receives for the fake of his wife.

It is making court but ill to one fine woman to fhew her the regard we have for another; and yet I must own there is not a period of this epiftle-but squints towards another over-against it. It will be in vain to diffemble: your penetrating eyes cannot but difcover, how all the letters that compose these words lean forward after lady M's letters, which seem to bend as much from mine, and fly from them as fast as they are able. Ungrateful letters that they are! which give themfelves to another man, in the very presence of him who will yield to no mortal, in knowing how to value them.

You will think I forget myself, and am not writing to you; but, let me tell 'tis you, you forget

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