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Thus you fee how eafily the World is impos'd upon by a fair Outfide and glittering Appearance. Tis true, your Perfons of Senfe fee through these thin Difguifes, and are fenfible of the Cheat; but where you meet one of that Character, you find ten thousand Fools that always aflift to deceive themselves. A Man of true Piety, that has no Defigns to carry on,like one of an establish'd Fortune, always makes the leaft Noife. One never pulls out his Money, the other never talks of Religion, but when there's Occafion for it.

This puts me in Mind of a Paffage that happen'd t'other Day..I made a Vifit one Afternoon to Madam

" where I found several City-Ladies of the firft Magnitude. After a great deal of foolish Chat about. the Duty of Hufbands, and the Infidelity of the Men, fome Body in the Room, by what Accident I have now forgot, trump'd up Silvius's Name, who you know is a Man of great Merit, and has the Happinefs to be well receiv'd by the fair Sex. Says a starch'd Piece of Formality, I wonder how he comes to make fo many Conquefts; but for ny Part, tho' he figh'd a whole Age at my Feet, I am fure I fhould · never lose a Moment's Repofe for him. I don't know the Gentleman, replies another Lady; but if he is what the World reprefents him, I dare not answer to my Heart, that I could maintain it long against him. This latter fpoke her Sentiments honestly, and without Reserve, whereas the other was a dissembling Coquet, that had bury'd two Hufbands, and was looking out for a third; and, if warmly attack'd,. would, I dare answer for her, swallow a Temptation without making wry Faces, as readily as an Ufurer does an Orphan.

But tho' a good Reafon may be given why we have fo many Hypocrites in Religion, when they make their Fortunes by it, I could never comprehend the Mystery, that the Generality of the World fhould be fuch Affes, to value themselves for Things that are apparently falfe,

Lucius is the Grand-fon of a Chimney-fweeper, all the World knows it, and yet the Sot values him felf, in all Companies, upon his noble Extraction, everlaftingly talks of the Services which his Ancestors have done the Publick. Yet, fays a Gentleman to him one Day, finding him upon this Strain, the Publick is oblig'd to your Ancestors, if it had not been for them, Paris had been in Danger of burning more than once.

Stentor is one of the vileft Preachers that ever murder'd a Text: He has nothing but his Lungs and Impudence to recommend him : He had never Learning enough at the College to get him a Degree, nor Reputation enough in the City to get twenty Auditors. together to fit with him throughout; yet in all his Sermons this Infect quotes Fathers and Councils with as much Affurance as if he knew them, and talks of nothing but the vast Multitudes that flock from all Quarters to hear him.

Emelia is an antiquated Maid, cenforious and deform'd fhe has often brib'd Midwives and Perfons to proclaim her for a great Fortune, and twenty Times given Money to be join'd in a Lampoon with twenty Sparks one after another, to try if fomething would come on't. But after all her Intriguing, she could never yet find any oneCully weak enough to marry her: Yet he perpetually tells every one the fees, what advantageous Matches fhe has refus'd in her Time fuch a Lord languifh'd, and fuch a Knight run mad for her. And if you'll believe Captain Buff, the King has not difpos'd of the Government of a Fort thefe twenty Years, but he has had the firft Offer of it.

But I forget I am writing a Letter, and have launch'd into an Effay: Therefore I will end abruptly here, rather than trefpafs any longer upon your Patience, and only beg Leave to add that I am

Your most humble Servant.

Mifcel

Mifcellaneous Letters.

A LETTER to the Duke of Buckingham

My Lord,

in Yorkshire.

N humble Servant of yours here in Town, Monf. Borne by Name, is fo fully fatisfy'd of the Reality of your Reformation, that he expreffes himself in these Terms to all that have the Honour to know you. I dare venture my own Salvation upon the fame Bottom with that of the Duke of Buckingham's, so firmly do I believe the Sincerity of his Conversion.

Converfion, fays Mr. Waller to him, have a Care what you fay: People don't use to be converted nowa-Days fo cafily. This new Reformation you talk of in the Duke of Buckingham is owing neither to you nor me, nor yet to any Man living.

'Tis a new Friend of his, but one that has been dead the Lord knows how many hundred Years ago, that has very lately brought about this miraculous Change that fo furprizes us.

I mean Petronius Arbiter, the most delicate Man of his Age, for Poetry, Painting, and Mufick. One that perpetually ftudy'd and purfu'd Pleasure, one that turn'd the Day into the Night, and the Night into the Day, but at the fame Time fo abfolute a Vol. IV.

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Master of himself, that whenever his Affairs requir'd it, he was one of the most regular Men in the Universe.

The Duke of Buckingham, who has long ago resembled him in a thoufand other Qualities, was refolv'd of late to imitate him too in this. Thus I have fhown you, Monfieur Borne, from whence proceeds this Alteration in his Grace's Life, which you, it feems, have mistaken for a Conversion.

But with both thefe Gentlemen's Leave, I fhall account for it after another Manner.

'Tis a certain Maxim with me, that no Man of a nice Palate can love Vice, when once it ceafes to be agreeable; fo, for my Part, I don't wonder that a Perfon of fo refin'd and delicate a Tafte as yourTM Grace, takes up with the Vertue of Continence in the North, where you have no Objects to tempt and difturb you. But I dare engage that if we had you here in Town, and fhew'd you fome of our topping Beauties, that have Charms enough to conquer the most infenfible, we fhould foon find the new Convert of Monfieur Borne, and Mr. Waller's new Petronius, to be nothing in the World but the true genuine Duke of Buckingham.

you

Heaven forbid that I fhould ever be fo wickedly given as to diffuade your Grace from fo comfortable a Quarter as Love. But I have another Sin to propofe to you, which of felf your would never guefs, and yet I recommend it fincerely to you, and from the Bottom of my Heart. I confefs it has a fcurvy Name, and the World calls it Covetousness; however, it would be of more Advantage to your Grace, than the Wifdom of Philofophers, and the Glory of Conquerors. To be fhort, I fhould rather chufe to fee your Grace copy any of the Heroes in Lombard-street, than either Socrates or Cafar. Where the Difficulty is great, the Merit of furmounting it is great. Now all the World knows that your Grace will find it in

finitely

finitely more troublesome to you to former, than the two latter Gentlemen.

imitate the

As we don't all on the fudden arrive to the Heighth of Perfection, I am not fo vain as to expect you fhould practife all the Rules of Oeconomy at first Sight, nor fo morofe as to advise you to deny your Self every Thing amongst fo great an Affluence as furrounds you. All I beg of your Grace, is, that you would have a watchful Eye upon your City Friends, that have the fingering of your Money, to keep them honeft in fpite of themselves. For unlefs, out of Tenderness to their Souls, you hinder them from playing the Knaves, I dare fwear for them that they would venture Damnation a hundred Times a Day, and all in your Grace's Service.

And now if you think it worth your while, when you come next to London, to bring a small Retinue with you, but a great deal of Money in your Pocket, you will certainly be the Wonder of the whole Nation. If you neglect this Advice, the greater Part of the World will never be for you, and you muft content your felf with a few Admirers in private, of whom I shall always be the first, who am,

A Letter to the Dutchefs of MAZARINE, out of French.

I

Have prefum'd, Madam, to fend you fome Advice, tho I am fenfible how little you Ladies care to receive any.

what it will, I am too

But let the Effect be much in the Intereft of

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