LETTER VII. Bath, 1714. OU are to understand, Madam, that my You has been divided with the most wonderful regularity in the world. Even from my infancy I have been in love with one after the other of you, week by week, and my journey to Bath fell out in the three hundred seventy-fixth week of the reign of my sovereign lady Sylvia. At the present writing hereof it is the three hundred eighty-ninth week of the reign of your most serene majesty, in whose service I was lifted fome weeks before I beheld your fifter. This information will account for my writing to either of you hereafter, as either fhall happen to be Queen-regent at that time. Pray tell your fifter, all the good qualities and virtuous inclinations he has, never gave me fo much pleasure in her conversation, as that one vice of her obftinacy will give me mortification this month. Ratcliffe commands her to the Bath, and the refuses! indeed if I were in Berkshire. I fhould honour her for this obftinacy, and magnify her no lefs for dif obedience than we do the Barcelonians. But people change with the change of places (as we we fee of late) and virtues become vices when they cease to be for one's intereft, with me, as with others. Yet let me tell her, she will never look fo finely while she is upon earth, as she would here in the water. It is not here as in most other instances, for those ladies that would please extremely, muft go out of their own element. She does not make half fo good a figure on horfeback as Chriftina Queen of Sweden; but were fhe once feen in the Bath, no man would part with her for the beft mermaid in Christendom. You know I have seen you often, I perfectly know how you look in black and in white, I have experienced the utmost you can do in colours; but all your movements, all your graceful steps, deferve not half the glory you might here attain, of a moving and eafy behaviour in buckram: Something between swimming and walking, free enough, and more modeftly-half-naked than you can appear any where elfe. You have conquer'd enough already by land; show your ambition, and vanquish alfo by water. The buckram I mention is a dress peculiarly useful at this time, when, we are told, they are bringing over the fashion of German ruffs: You ought to ufe yourself to fome degrees of stiffness beforehand; and when our ladies chins have been tickled M 3 tickled a-while with ftarched muflin and wire, they may poffibly bear the brush of a German beard and whisker. I could tell you a delightful story of Doctor P. but want room to display it in all its shining circumstances. He had heard it was an excellent cure for love, to kiss the Aunt of the perfon beloved, who is generally of years and experience enough to damp the fiercest flame he try'd this course in his paffion, and kissed Mrs. E at Mr. D's, but, he says, it will not do, and that he loves you as much as ever. Your, &c. LETTER VIII. To the fame. F afk how the waters agree how you and I should with me, I muft tell you, fo very well, that I question agree if we were in a has honestly room by ourselves. Mrs. affured me, that but for fome whims which fhe can't entirely conquer, fhe would go and fee the world with me in man's cloaths. Even you, Madam, I fancy (if you would not partake in our adventures) would wait our coming in at the the evening with some impatience, and be well énough pleas'd to hear them by the fire-fide. That would be better than reading romances, unless lady M. would be our historian. What raises these defires in me, is an acquaintance I am beginning with my Lady Sandwich, who has all the spirit of the last age, and all the gay experience of a pleasurable life. It were as fcandalous an omiffion to come to the Bath and not to see my Lady Sandwich, as it had formerly been to have travelled to Rome without visiting the Queen of Sweden. She is, in a word, the best thing this country has to boast of; and as she has been all that a woman of fpirit could be, fo she still continues that eafy and independent creature that a sensible woman always will be. I must tell you a truth, which is not, however, much to my credit. I never thought so much of yourself and your fifter, as fince I have been fourscore miles distant from you. In the Forest I look'd upon you as good neighbours, at London as pretty kind of women, but here as divinities, angels, goddeffes, or what you will. In the fame manner I never knew at what rate I valued your life, till of dying. If Mr. you were upon the point and you will but fall very fick every season, I shall certainly die for you. Seriously I value you both fo much, that I esteem others much the lefs for your fakes; M 4 you you have robb'd me of the pleasure of esteeming a thousand pretty qualities in them, by fhowing me fo many finer in yourselves. There are but two things in the world which could make you indifferent to me, which, I believe, you are not capable of, I mean ill-nature and malice. I have feen enough of you, not to overlook any frailty you could have, and nothing less than a vice could make me like you lefs. I expect you should discover by my conduct towards you both, that this is true, and that therefore you should pardon a thousand things in me for that one difpofition. Expect nothing from me but truth and freedom, and I fhall always be thought by you what I always am, Your, &c, I LETTER IX. To the fame. 1714. Return'd home as flow and as contemplative after I had parted from you, as my Lord * retired from the Court and glory to his Country feat and wife, a week ago. I found here a difmal defponding letter from the fon of another great courtier who expects the fame fate, and who |