Madam Your c. The XL. Letter She entreates him to oblige the bearer if there be neede SIR you have used to indebt your friends with so much affection you will not finde it strange if I recommend you one of mine which merits to have a part in your favour If you afford him any testimonies of the friendship you have promised me albeit I pretend recompence in helping you to his I shall alwayes be engaged to you for it it is of M. L. who shall present to you my Letter to receive some favours from you which hee shall the more easily obtaine by his owne merit I conjure you impart them â—o him and beleeve they shall â—e set on the score of obligations which I desire to acquite by my services which shall shew you that I am Sir Your c. The XLI Letter She writes to an Abbesse recommends her daughter enterd into religion MAdam I can receive in the world no more satisfaction my daughter no more glory then in the testimonies you give the one and the other of your courtesies I pray God Madam the example of your life which is a rule to all Ladies living in Clâ—ysters may yet be more specially to her I recommend you to what ever condition God doth destine her this shall be alwayes her great advantage to have seene so good an houre and approcht so neare to vertue I know the Importance of this obligation and if you make reckoning of any humane thing I shall take the assurance to protest that I am more then any person in the world Madam Your c. The XLII Letter She conjures her to continue her friendship MAdam since I am too unfortunate to be eternally neare you at least I must make you see I am alwayes there in thought and that the greatest consolation I have in my solitude is to entertaine my selfe with your rare qualities and to hope for your newes I aske them boldly since you have done me the honour to promise them in your celestiall cabinet where they doe never tell lies and where you appeare with so much Majesty as a Queene upon a glorious throne I conjure you to this by those faire houres which I cannot remember without hoping the continuation of your favours you have promised mee this grace so solemnely that if it were a curtesie to make mee hope it t is â—ow but justice to pay it I demurd it as a thing you owe me and which you can no more refuse me without giving me cause to complaine I beleeve my hope shall not bee without effect and that which yet gives mee more assurance is that since your affection depends rather on your owne good nature then my merit I reckon it will last long and your complexion being most equall the friendship you beare mee shall never bee lessned I am certaine it shall never have an end if it dure as long as the purpose I have to serve you and be Madam Your c. The XLIII Letter She entertaines her upon the departure of her husband and the retreate of one of her children into the cloysters MAdam one that knew lesse then I the strength of your spirit would thinke there needed great preparatives of reason to resolve it against two accidents which just at a time are united to make you rather an example of glory then an object of disgrace I wil then keepe my selfe from condoling you nor will I enterprize to comfort you since wee ought not thinke any unhappy but those that have feeble soules and that to say truth there is no accident fastned to the substance of the wise that which the vulgar esteemes hurtfull and vexatious is ordinarily found on the contrary we may see an example of it in the departure of my Lord your husband in the retreate of my Lord your sonne into a Monastery I assure my selfe there is no body that beleeves not your ressentments most just but your judgment is too cleare to be surprized by appearances and not to know in the age we live that vice is in such sort authorized that we know it no more but by the traine that followes it and by the equipage which makes it triumph in the adoration of slaves and flatterers Vertue hath no more the beauty which Nature gave her This is that which causeth most men not trouble themselves how provided they procure favour I praise God Madam to see your house free from this reproach This is it which makes me beleeve that if fortune doe ever reconcile her selfe with vertue the peace will never be made but on condition to make my Lord your husband chiefe of the gowne I am no Sibil my age and face take off the suspition but if there be prophetique gifts in any soules and God take pleasure to make beasts speake under the raigne of Lewes the thirteenth aswell as under that of Pharoah I shall boldly foretell the good hap of the state when it shall use the counsels of M. T. That which he hath done in diverse negotiations witnesseth that he hath not wanted to so good a master but a Letter cannot describe his perfections and I have done but like Mathematicians who with small points marke out great Kingdomes It remaines I tell you that the departure made by my Lord your son is an action you cannot complaine of seeing the example of your piety is perhaps the onely cause of his resolution this it is forbids mee remember you of a thousand reasons might be alleaged to sustaine the assault of blood and nature for the fruites hee shall bring forth in the Church and the consolation you shall thence receive will diminish the displeasures he might leave to a house full of honour and riches T is this I hope for his contentment and yours sharing as I doe in all that concernes you and desiring nothing more then to witnesse to you that I am entirely Madam Your c. The XLIV Letter She testifies her displeasure being almost in despaire to see her againe and that shee had rather speake then write to her MY deare Cousin However I esteeme your Letters I had rather be in case to speake then write not that I loathe to entertaine you in that kinde seeing I have no other meanes I cease not to thinke on you but I preferre your presence to your Idea and will take more pleasure to addresse my prayers to you then your picture I meane to the image of your merits which never can be blotted from my memory Your remembrance may give contentment to my soule but your entertainement to my sense also and would render my joy more perfect Any faire thoughts I have of you I am little more happy then those that have pleasing dreames when all is done t is but a fantome that I hugge and if there be ought better in my dreaming then theirs t is that I can maintaine it longer And so I doe alwaies separating my selfe from company that I be lesse distracted
THE SECRETARY OF LADIES OR A new collection of Letters and Answers composed by Moderne Ladies and Gentlewomen Collected by Mounsieur Du BOSQVE Translated out of French by I. H. LONDON Printed by Tho. Cotes for William Hope and are to be sold at the signe of the Vnicorne in Cornehill neere the Royall Exchange 1638. TO MY LADY the Countesse of DORSET Governesse to the DVKE of YORKE Madam YOur pardon if it bee presumption my selfe but newly admitted to preferre others to your service 'T is a sinne I could not be drawne to commit but to avoyd a greater So I conceive each Casuist rankes the breach of vowes which would bee my obliquity should I offer at any other Altar these first fruites of my poore endeavours The French Collector so hee sâ—iles himselfe presents these Letters to the world with a French familiar confidence Raâ—ing them sufficiently accomplisht to merit entertainement His courage cannot cure my feare knowing they must passe the censure at least if you daigne them a view of one then hee conceits his worke far more accomplisht and not being ignorant that this English habit made by a stranger to the tongue more to the Courtly dresse may much blemish their native beauty My comfort is without wracke of reputation they may want some of their originall ornaments but could I hope your approbation to trifles hardly worth your eye I durst bee bold this would procure them more grace than they have lost by their Translator But Madam t is too much I dare not begge it my most ambitious prayer shall bee regarding my unworthy sacrifice you would vouchsafe not to disdaigne iâ— Reserve your acceptation for more deserving straines your prayse for those that more directly tend to kiâ—dle flame of piety Your not râ—jâ—cting those will proove a sufficient pasport and helpe them travel the Brittish world without affront or enemy where I am confident there does not breath such a schismaticke to civility that in so triviall a point will not wave his opinion to one that governes his hopes In which beleefe I devote these papers to the fate you please decree them My onely intent in exposing them was to give some testimony of a thankfull heart If I have mist the way it cannot bee denied I had a will to finde it and mist nothing but fit meanes to informe the world that I am Madam Your most humble and devoted servant Ierome Hainhofer Patritius Augustanus The Authors Dedication TO MADAM DE PISIEVX Madam I Should peradventure have made some difficulty to offer you any booke but this fearing to demand an unjust protection or to make you a present unworthy of your selfe But thâ—se Ladies which I tender you are so accomplisht I could not cherish the least feare to produce them without sinning against their merit and the judgement you know to make in things of valew Neverthelesse how perfect soever they be they acknowledge a necessity of your approbation to appeare in the world And that if this good fayle them all their faire dresses and ornaments can gaine them a reputation but imperfect Behold them then in posture to doe the homage they owe you and to learne from your mouth what credit they may hope from others Behold the wonders of our age which come to reverence the rare qualities that France admires in you And to consult the oracle which must declare their good or bad fortune Confident they are to disp lease none if they be but so happy to please you and that by the generall esteeme you are in your judgement shall bee the rule to all others Receive them Madam as creatures whom the report of your name and vertue hath acquired And that will not shew themselves abroad with your passe Refuse not your favour to these faire unknowne which enter not into the world but to vindicate the honour of dames and to make it appeare that Letters are not the peculiar heritage of one sexe and that men are out when they vaâ—t themselves sole Monarchs in the Empire of the sciences For my selfe Madam who doe but lend a hand to their enterprise I confesse I am ravisht to see them fall into your armes and that besides the lustre of their owne beauty they shall borrow that of yours to render them pleasing as your selfe to all that have eyes and reason I cannot cease to commend their choyse seeing it must be imagined Noble as you are you will be taken with their courage and while they travaile in a designe so glorious I assure my selfe you will second their endeavours And that your countenance approbation and spirit shall bring them more than halfe their victory and triumph Thus hopes Madam Your most humble and most obedient servant Du Bosque An advertisement to the Reader by a friend of the Collector BE not astonisht to see this Collection come out in print hee that hath tane the paines to make it had reason to thinke that after you had read the letters of so many ingenious men you would take it well to see these offers of women There is no colour to say it will becomes their sexe for iâ— it be not amisse that they are able to mâ—ke a complement you must not thinke it strange that they can write one T is the principall subject of these Letters which are not confused nor shufled together as many others which the vulgar esteeme good They are not treatises nor orations they are no deepe discourses wherein there is nothing smels of a Letter but Sir your servant But it is not needfullâ— to witnesse these good that I make others appeâ—re ill I will onely say that if theâ—e bee any who cannot yet consent that Gentlewomen should write I assure my selfe this book will convert them where they shall 〈◊〉 so many things of worth they shall 〈◊〉 â—ompeld to renounce their ignoranc◠〈◊〉 â—nvy for by one of these names I 〈◊〉 call the cause of their error which I would farther oppose if these Ladies had need of my Apology but they defend themselves better by neglect than those 〈◊〉 deserve And I will content my selfe to say that if this age hath seene many that write with approbation of all the world upon the most important matters Religion and morality wee need not make it such a marvell that they can endite good letters seeing they can make good bookes But it is time to finish this advertisement and I vow I am to blame to detaine the reader from the booke it selfe where he shall receive much more satisfaction than I am able to promise THE SECRETARY of LADIES The first Letter She prayes her to returne to Pariâ— and bring her in dislike with the Country MAdam provided you have a just opinion of your owne merit you cannot faile in that you oâ—ght to have of our griefe Remember your selfe onely of the pleasure your presence brings us to comprehend what your absence takes from us and you will easily averre that the losse of so
great a good is no lesse worthy of our teares than the possession of our joy Those that have the knowledge of your rare qualities cannot be ignorant of our coÌ„plaints they may judge the effects by their cause Consider next if there bee any among us that doe not make vowes for your returne since it must restore alacrity to all your acquaintance And to tell you of our feare as well as our desire would it not be a wonderfull change if you should accustome your selfe to live among Barbarians and being capable of the best company confine to perpetuall solitude Remember t is two months since we have lost you and if this terme seeme long to us at Paris it cannot be short to you in the Country But this is not enough weigh in your minde that these two moneths you have not seene this faire City whereof the sole remembrance is sufficient to render other places undelightfull I thinke you doe not so much love the deserts that though our happinesse consist in your returne wee should have no ground to hope it After all this if you have lost the desire to come backe to Paris it is because you have lost your memory for not to affect a returne you must wholly forget that you have beene there Finally never was promise better kept than that wee made you not to take collations in our walkes Your faire Dutchesse is so exact in the point shee would make a conscience in the hottest season to drinke fountaine water shee hath no minde to quench her thirst being afraid to bee refresht Albeit shee might lesse incommodate herselfe without breaking promise shee dares not so much as thinke of it without scruple To bee entirely faiâ—hfull to you she will admit neither interpretation nor dispensation Hasten then your returne and if you have yet any feeling of pitty shew it to so many that doe petition you Write so much as you please your letters may asswage our evill but never cure it our sadnesse is measured by your absence Neverthelesse we can assure you that if it diminish our delight it doth not our affection especially that which I have to be Madam Your most humble c. The first Answer She Answers that besides the losse of their conversation she is vext with that of the Country and that she will never make vow of solitude while she can hope the honour of their company MAdam I must begin my Letter where you end yours to assure you that I have too great an opinion of your good will to thinke it can diminish in my absence I beleeve that my returne will not augment your friendship but your joy And that it will render you more contented not more affectionate do not imagine I speake this out of the good opinion I have of my selfe but for that I conceive of your constancy if I should judge your desire by my merit I should have little cause to lament you And if you had no other apprehension of mee than I have of my selfe you should bee without regret as I am without vanity I must then that I may beleeve you surveigh my selfe by another measure and ought to thinke that if indeed you have any greife t is because I want the blessing of your company and not you mine your charity doubtlesse gives you this feeling and did I take it otherwise I should declare no lesse presumption than you doe courtesie say what you please I am farre more worthy than you but it is of compassion and wish in that we are separated the cause of our sorrow were but equall The advantage lies on your side in being at Paris where the greatest discontent may finde diversion and the sickest soule expect some remedy I on the contrary am in a wilde Country where all familiarity is a punishment I am deprived of yours and tired with theirs who are impertinent and importune I have a double cause of paine the privation of a great good and the sufferance of a great ill You cannot be so unhappy at Paris where I left you in company good enough to make you forget mine meane while that I meete with none here which make me not sigh for yours Be it so then that when you thinke on mee it bee not without griefe this cannot equall what I suffer for so many excellent Dames I alone loose many and all you but one alone I ought to reckon the causes of my sorrow so many as you are most accomplished Ladies or rather so many as are the lovely qualities which each of you possesseth Now if we measure the greatnesse of displeasure by that of the object judge how much I suffer by what I have lost And you will grant that I have reason to seeke my consolation where you are Is there then any appearance to feare that I should enure my selfe to the Country or to thinke that I can forget you Never imagine I meane to make a vow of solitude while I dare hope the honour of your company I entertaine my selfe but too much with this good fortune whereof having at present lost the possession I thinke it would bee advantagious to have also lost the memory Neverthelesse oblivion is a remedy too injurious I have too much courage to consent to buy my content at the price of ingratitude I had rather be unfortunate than faulty I beseech you beleeve it and continue your prayers for my returne It must needs bee that either you are not in the state of grace or that your petitions are unjust seeing they obtaine so small successe I could wish that fasting and abstinence from your walkes might remedy this And that you should bee depriv'd of every pleasure that I might the sooner obtaine that of your company which I desive to possesse with as much passion as I have to bee all my life Madam Your most devoted c. The II. Letter She entertaines her with a certaine stupide fellow who is no otherwise happy but in being ignorant MAdam I must needs entertaine you with this fellow of whom you write unto me I wish he might be content I thinke he has no reason so to be hee is not happy but because hee is ignorant nor hath hee a quiet soule but because it is insensible It is no great marvell that hee is without disturbance seeing hee is without knowledge T is not to be counted a miracle if those that are blinde doe not â—eare lightning If they tremblâ— not like others they are not therein the more happy On the contrary I suppose they would have a good sight yea on condition to have it sometimes dazled You will tell mee I have read the booke you esteeme so much and that my Letter bewraies it well think what you please I beleeve there is no more danger to borrow a good thing from a booke we like than to gather fruite from a tree of our owne We do not reade them meerely for pleasure but partly for use But to returne
to our man I protest I desire not such a good fortune I love better the restlessenesse of your Spirit than the tranquillity of his I speake of those noble cares which knowledge bringeth forth and of that moderate feare which serves but to awake the soule and not to trouble it The happinesse of these people whereof you write unto mee is like to that of men asleepe their spirit is quiet because it is not capable of disturbance I must make you laugh as I conclude this Letter at a comparison which perhaps you will judge a little too high for mee It seemes that men may bee set safe from the blowes of misfortune as from those of thunder by being very high or very low but in both these albeit the safety be equal the glory is not I had rather scape a tempest being on the mount Olympus then in a cave And to talke like your booke the onely one that can make mee guilty of theft I would rather choose to be above then below affliction and be thereof uncapeable by reason rather then stupidity I conclude this then beseeching you to speake no more of that matter not to pleade against your owne Interest in quitting that of great Spirits You have thereof too great a share to renounce And if I defend them I doe but praise a good which you possesse and I desire I wish as many good termes to expresse my thoughts upon this subject as I have desires to serve you and to witnesse on all occasions how much I am Madam Your most affectionate c. The second answer She endeavours to proove that those that have the least spirit have also the least molestation MAdam write what you list for great spirits it seemes to mee they have more glory then happinesse And that it is difficult to have great splendor and little care It is true they are much esteemed which outshine others Notwithstanding I thinke that with all this advantage they may be compared to the bush in holy Scripture which had much brightnesse but yet was full of thornes There are indeed many sharpe points under these glorious rayes There are many cares which knowledge encreases rather then cures Let us speake freely and not suffer our selves bee charmed by this same faire appearance As those that have a feaver would willingly be lesse sensible that they might bee lesse tormented so I beleeve the miserable would wish their knowledge diminished for to diminish their affliction In this we may speake of spirits as of the senses the most delicate do soonest feele Phisicke likewise and Philosophy doe in the same manner heale the unfortunate and the diseased The one stupifies the sense without which there is no sorrow the other endeavours to withdraw the attention without which there is no sadnesse whence you may learne that the most ignorant are the least unfortunate I deny not but there are some which lift them selves above misery and doe surmount it but I thinke these are very rare I see few that do resemble you And to tell you who they are which put themselves to most paine I beleeve they are neither the great nor the little but onely the indifferent Mee thinkes disquiet formes it selfe in the soule as clouds doe in the Aire The Sunne sometimes drawes up vapours which afterwards it can hardly disperse and these middling Spirits precipitate themselves into those cares from which they can never get free whiles great spirits overcome discontent and the lesser know it not the middle sort are intangled therein So Christianity reprobates the Luke-warme from hope of Salvation and morality rejects them in point of civill felicity These then are they which have cause to complaine And whose understanding seemes to mee unlucky since it onely serves to leade them into many Labyrinthes but not to conduct theÌ„ out Have I not then reason to thinke that those which have lesse spirit have lesse paine If there bee so few which vanquish affliction is it not sufficient that I follow the path most beaten and content my selfe by ignorance to be below evil not being able by Iudgement to lift my selfe above it Since the felicity of the lowest wits is true I care not tho it be lesse glorious then that of great sages If it be not as noble sure I am t is no lesse pure no lesse reall I speak in this my wishes not my being for albeit I am without wit I am not without perturbation I suffer the misfortune of those who have but little knowledg and am deprived of their advantage you know it well enough and I doubt not but if you endure my dispoâ—ition t is for my affections sake and the desire which I have to be Madam Your perfect servant The third Letter Shee complaines that men doe sometimes fall in love with those that deserve it least and that the deformed are very often more happy then the faire MAdam there 's no neede goe into Africke to arrive at a Country of Monsters our own produces but too many to seeke elsewhere objects of wonder In fine this young man hath marryed the old woman T is a choyce worthy of shame for himselfe of envy for many of admiration for all we are young and it is to us a strange thing to see that in our dayes she hath found a fortune so prodigious in the decline of hers And that any should fall in love with her Albeit shee wants the three goods which are thereof the ordinary cause for she is neither faire nor rich nor young I do not doubt but she hath experience sure I am she hath age enough to get it but I cannot cease to admire that any man could fancy her with all her knowledge If she deserved to be sought unto it was like some Sibil I meane to be consulted not beloved I thinke she is more fit to teach then to please and more worthy to have Schollers then Suiters what will they say of Lidian will it not seeme that he had more charity then love that he tooke her not but out of meere pitty to succour old-age If strangers finde them together they will take her for his mother not his wife I doe not yet tell you all I protest I cannot Nature gave her nothing amiable which old age could take from her Time cannot ravish away those goods shee never possest All it could doe is onely to make her more aged not more ill favoured She is rather an old deformity then woman It might well deprive her of strength but not of beauty It hath toucht nothing but her haire and by this she is a gainer since of red it is become white I speake nothing but truth although I write in choller But I ought so to proceede and there is no appearance of reason to approve that the deformed should be sued to and the faire slighted Must they which want all merit enjoy so much good fortune and our Belinde be forsaken I know well the
condemning you the extremity of my friendship carryed me to the point to offer you the pardon you ought to seeke I laboured to vanquish you by submission rather then by reason and to tostifie the excesse of my love before I shewed you the right of my cause See how farre the feare to lose your alliance hath carryed me and put your selfe no more in danger to lose a good friend for a bad opinion I beseech you esteeme more my affection then your oversight and beleeve when you shall be sicke again of the same disease I have no more to doe but undeceive you to make you whole It s no great matter I aske of you if to instruct you be to satisfie Remember that you have never beene so cruel as when you have been so credulous doe not imagine but that there are slanderers and when you heare ill of me instead of thinking my actions so can you not consider they may be false reports Is there not as much reason to beleeve mee innocent as them true And what must I to conserve your friendship put all liers to death and to eloigne you from error banish all seducers If it were so your affection would not be assured it is better finde a remedy more certaine for mee more glorious for you Chase away credulity and I le quit my feare your friendship will be stable provided your beliefe be not too light We need not disarme those that assaile us when we have bucklers to to defend their blowes Let the Serpents keepe their poyson provided wee bee provided wherewith to heale their sting If we cannot take malice from our enemies wee can at least stop our eares against detraction And to contemne them is defence enough this is what I humbly beg or I must tremble without ceasing or be assured of the integrity of all that talke with you that I may be so of the opinion you should conceive of my friendship True it is you comfort mee a little when you assure that it was not without constrant you shewed coldnesse I am halfe satisfied to know that when you put me to paine it was not without the first taste but I shall be yet more glad to see you corrected then punished and desire no other satisfaction then to finde you free of errour Abuse your selfe no more and thinke it not generosity to be pettish against a person that knowes not how to give you ground for it If there be not as much courage in vengeance as in pardon yea when one is offended how shall wee call the feeling that transports you upon the bare opinion of an injury Thinke of it well for the future and imagine the price I set upon your friendship by the care I have tane to preserve it when you betrayd an indifferency for mine And after this I beleeve you will not doubt how deepely I am Madam Your c. The XII Letter Shee shewes that they are to blame who blame those that stâ—ddy and write MAdam I have read her Letter who takes it ill that women should study But it seemes to mee that her faire fancies savour nothing of the ignorance she commends and that she appeares knowing by blaming those that are They say wee cannot oppose eloquence without the helpe of eloquence wee may say the same of knowledge which cannot be assaulted but with her owne weapons Thus shee does when she contemnes this divine quality since there is not one of her words which shewes not she possesses it doe not imagine that I meane to make an Apology for the knowing to do it I must be so and as knowledge cannot be set upon but by those that have it so must the same advantage bee had to defend it you know well enough that I pretend it not and if I speake for it t is rather to witnesse the force of my affection than that of my spirit At least I am not of so bad a humour as many others which contemne a good quality because themselves want it Moreover I cannot suffer the injury they doe our sexe to thinke wee cannot be innocent except we be ignorant It is a great disposition to doe good but to know how it must be done and if knowledge be capeable of presumption ignorance is not free of error â—s it not better to contemne ill then not to know it and to vaâ—quish ones enemies then not to see them in this the fable and Philosophy speake in the same fashion Pallas was not so vitious as Venus and the Poets that faine the goddesse of love without modesty have fained her also without knowledge I assure my selfe you will laugh when you reade this where I cite passages as if I would shew my reading T is zeale transports me to defend a cause wherein it seemes to me your selfe have interest I vafue the learned and wish my selfe to be so if but to resemble you and to testify with more dexterity how much I am Madam Your c. The XII Answere Shee speakes her opinion against the knowing MAdam would you have me answer freely to your Letter and tell you roundly my opinion I allow a woman so farre knowing till she come to writing making of books but when she sets upon this she is in danger oft times not to gaine the reputation of being eloquent without losing that of being modest It is a great misfortune when one affects to become eminent in what ever it be one becomes so often in another fashion then shee expects or should desire I wish that more would thinke of it that they might moderate the desire of knowledge which men study for necessity women for glory I doe not say then that they are unceapable of arts or that they cannot penetrate all their secrets but they ought not seeke a wisedome contrary to that of their sex nor possesse vertues out of fashion since renowne depends not on our owne opinion we must seeke it in the opinion of others perhaps if many Ladies of quality should undertake to write they would make the custome bee received otherwise those that beginne are more in danger to be mockt then follow'd Their designe is like to that of those captaines which cast themselves into the midst of enemies to encourage others to fight and then remaine ruin'd without any succour unfollowed of any and to say that ignorance is easily seduced and that it is as capable of errour as knowledge of vanity certainely this cannot be affirmed but of the most stupid the most grosse how ignorant soever a woman be she alwayes knowes ill enough to doe it if she will Nature opens her eyes but too much for the enjoyment of many things which reason forbids The most simple have knowledge enough of vice and vertue to merit glory in flying the one and practising the other but let us leave the vertue of knowing persons to speake of their conversation You know how trouble some it is It seemes that science doth no
elsewhere It is certainely true that the two most happy newes I can receive are that you love me and are well And that I feare most in the world is the alteration of your health or friendship the least suspition of the one or other would make meÌ„ hate my life I protest never was Letter so deare unto me as that you sent maugre your fit but yet I like better you should take care of your health then writing Albeit your tidings extremely reâ—oyce me I love your life better then your letters I beseech you beleeve it and employ me in all you please as Madam Your c. The XXIII Letter Shee recommends to him the cause of her friend SIr if I had as much ability to serve you as occasion to trouble you you should easily judge I valew not my owne interests in respect of yours But I must in this accoÌ„modate my selfe rather to the condition of â—y fortune then my disposition and if you have no proofes of my thankefulnesse you shall at least of my confidence past examples doe make me more and more hardy for the future and instead that the continuation of your favours ought to oblige mee to a modesty lesse audacious I finde they give me more liberty So it is Sir that I have once more neede of the accustomed testimonies of your good will but to begge with more dexterity I wil joyn your owne interest with mine and convince you by your own charity as well as by the favor you have promised me I assure my selfe that the vertue you practise with so much praise and the justice you exercise with so much integrity will easily obtaine of you all I shall demand in behalfe of this bearer He is no lesse worthy your compassion then his adversaries your chastisement I know you will do in this businesse all that justice requires but besids this I most humbly beseech you to adde yet for my sake that sweetenesse wherewith you are wont to receive all those I recommend to you and that obliging quality which interesses you in all that I affect The obligation I shall beare you in this respect shall hold the place of one of your most speciall favours and I shall remember it all my life aswell as the promise I have made to remaine Sir Your c. The XXIV Letter She writes to her that her sadnesse iâ— extreame during her absence MAdam I take no care how to expresse the griefe I suffer by your absence for it were to aspire to an impossibility and as I cannot speaâ—e my contentment when I have the honour to see you so can I not testify the displeasure I feele when I am deprived of so great a good fortune my griefe is as mute as my joy I wish you could see it you should judge my affection by my sorrow since the one is the cause of the other and both are extreame In this case I have no other comfort but that I receive by reading your Letters If I had no memory I should be the most unfortunate of the world And that which more afflicts me is that I have no more opportunity to receive the assurances of your friendship but onely to send you those of my duty the desire I have to be Madam Your c. The XXIV Answer She answers that shee hath not merit enough to cause joy in the possessing or sorrow in the losing MAdam your letter makes me more ashamed then my absence you melancholly I have more cause to blush at your praises then you to be sad at my separation I cannot beleeve you without mistaking my selfe for another and to credit your words I must renounce the knowledge of my selfe That which you have of mee is very different from your discourse or at least from truth I doubt not but you feele some sorrow but I care not to measure it by my merit I have too little to equall the favour I possesse and I should be no lesse ignorant then unthankefull if I should not avow that you have much more affection to me then I good qualities to deserve it If I have any one that makes me so hardy to beg the continuation t is onely this simplicity you love in me and which renders you my defects the more suppoâ—table T is the only advantage I have to think you love me and that you permit me to call my selfe Madam Your c. The XXV Letter She desires to enter into a Monastery and prayes her to aide her therein MAdam I must needs confesse you my error I feare that you forget me I beleeve you wish me well but I know not if you thinke on doing it and in the number of great affaires which take up your thoughts I feare you dreame not on any so small as mine I have more neede to sollicite your memory then your will and am more in paine for your â—emembrance then your affection but that I may touch you where you are most sensible â—he pleasure you shall doe me may be cald an effect of your charity aswel as of your friendâ—hip I perceive well the endeaâ—ours of my calling but I canâ—ot follow it perfectly without â—our favour I have yet neede â—f humane things to arrive at â—ivine and albeit I be neere a â—onasticke life as the cripple â—â— the poole I want some boâ—y to cast me in upon this occasion Without which I shall but languish in my desires and remaine alwaies in a place where long since I fastned no more hopes I call the world so which I should quit with griefe because I leave you there did I not consider that one day by Gods grace wee shall enjoy a longer conversation then that is promised here below In which I place all my expectation and since it is the greatest good of all I content my selfe to wish it you to shew the true affection I have to serve you and to be Madam Your c. The XXV Answer She praies her to employ her with more â—â—â—â—â—â—ence approves her designe to enter into that course and offers her aide MIstris if you thinke I have forgotten you never was faith so faulty as yours It is an injury to both seeing you must have a bad opinion of my friendship or I not that I ought to have of your merit Iudge the consequence for to want memory I must want knowledge We cannot in this separate ingratitude from ignorance And to examine all things well I understand not how I can wish you good without remembring to doe it this should be rather a sicke desire then mine I have too much affection to remaine unmooveable and I can assure you that occasions shall rather be wanting to my wil then my will to occasions This would be a thought very vnprofitableÌ„ to our friends if we should remember them alwayes except at those times they have neede of us Be then lesse fearefull and if you will that I assure my selfe of your affection doubt not of mine I
where I am when I thinke on your conversation It hinders me to taste any sweetnesse in all others And therefore quickely to reapproach you I intend to give such order to my affaires that in few daies I shall see an end I shall ever hold them happy enough provided they be short and albeit there were crownes to hope for I would freely quit the pretension if I must be long deprived of your company or constrained farther to deferre my returne There is nothing so true as this and you ought no more doubt of it then of the affection I have to be Madam Your c. The XXVII Answer Shee replies that if she have not confidence enough she hath not a just opinion of her friendship and that she hath nâ—ither power enough to serve her nor merit to be worthy of her choise MAdam I know not why you have so much desire to hope for my newes it is lesse difficult for mee to send then profitable for you to receive You entreat me in this to doe a thing whereof I had a purpose to begge your permission I am much more happy then I beleeved I thought my letters troublesome to you and you tell me they are necessary I know not how it goes but assure your selfe you shall not faile being happy if your felicity depend on me You shall never be poore of those goods which I can heape upon you You must hopeâ— iâ— with more assurance otherwise your feare will produce that of some alteration in your friendship If you be without confidence you must needes beleeve me without affection seeing we ought to expect all of that person which hath power and will to doe us the good to which wee aspire can you beleeve that I have neither the one nor the other either to send you tydings or to serve you in what ever it be For the tediousnes you suffer in my absence I conjecture it is not small no more then the affection you beare me but I cannot imagine that t is like mine As I give place to you in merit you should give place to mee in displeasure when wee are separated one from the other If wee ought to measure the greatnes of the losse by that of the cause It is easie to judge my griefe extreame meane while that yours cannot be great no more then her merit which is the cause of it I know not why you tell mee that you cannot hope without being rash nor cure your selfe wiâ—hout being unthankefull It must either be that I had more perfections to oblige you to remembrance or you more obligation to have some ground of thankfulnesse I have receiv'd no advantage from nature or fortrne or if they have obliged mee in ought t is that the first hath given me a disposition to honour you the other hath given me occasions to know you Iudge then if you ought to handle as you doe a person that is in case rather to seeke yourâ— favours then doe you any And hath no other advantage but this that she can perfectly honour you If you be confused it must needs be for some other griefe then that of my losse And if the remembrance of my conversation renders all others unagreeable t is because it troubles you and puts you into a bad humour This is that which the â—â—nowledge of my defects ought to perswade me whiles that of your goodnesse shall make mee beleeve what ever you will to my advantage It is time to finish this letter Put an end to yonr affaires if you desire an end of my unquiet It will last til your returne which cannot bee so soone as all the world desires and among others Madam Your c. The XXVIII Letter Shee promises to publish every where the effects of her courtesie MAdam as one of your greatest pleasures is to oblige your friends so one of the greatest I have is to speake of those I have received I would be no lesse generous to publish your favours then you to doe them I proclaime them every where so loudly that there is no body which does not instantly judge the resent I have of them and the extream griefe I take not to be able to testifie you the truth of it no more then the affection I have to be all my life Madam Your c. The XXVIII Answer She replies that instead of deedes she can onely have good intentions and desires MY deare sister how much would you deeme your selfe bound to mee for effects seeing you beleeve your selfe so much only for desires truely you must needs have power to pierce into the affections as well as to gaine them to thank me in this manner I am very glad you have this particular gift to judge the intention without helpe of ordinary appearances which may show it I should hardly be able to shew you mine by my workes and I rejoyce you know that by prophecy which I should be able to demonstrate by experience without doubt you had lesse regard to the service you have receiv'd from me then to â—he will I have to serve you It is great enough to content those which can come to know it like you and I thinke it might oblige my friends to doe mee good if they should consider what I desire them t is this which obliges you to doe mee so many civilities and which renders mee confused when I thinke that I have yet done nothing which may evidence to you as I would in what fashion I am My Sister Your c. The XXIX Letter She comforts her touching the death of M. and shewes that teares are unprofitable for those that have lost life dangerous for those that yet possesses it MAdam to see how melancholly you be one would thinke you no more regard your life then as a thing in which you have no interest Since you lament those have lost it why doe you put your owne in danger how comes it to passe you have not as much feare for your selfe as sadnesse for others tell mee not that there are accidents in which teares and griefe are a just effect of duty Surely there is more of custome then reason and I cannot comprehend why our friends should take pleasure to see that we doe our selves an evill from whence they can draw no advantage So I call that of our excessive sorrow for since wee beleeve them content in the other world if wee weepe for them in this our teares are injurious if it be for our selves they are mercenary and for what ever it be they are superfluous but if a wise man ought not to have unprofitable passions how shall hee have any so dangerous Pardon me if I tell you freely that if you diminish not your griefe I shall the beleife I had of your spirit what difference is there betweene you and one that wilfully precipitates himselfe onely you kill more cruelly then ever any did wee accuse of their owne death take heede least to shew too much
pitty to others you shew too little to your selfe Remember what you were wont to say touching the death of Lucretia you thought men could not justifie her murther And what did she to her body you doe not to your soule doe you thinke that one is lesse homicide that kils himselfe in five dayes then in an houre doe not that with voluntary griefe shee did with her owne hand And what is it to purpose if the weapons wee use to take away life be visible or not if the shortest death bee sweetest judge what is that you cause your selfe by a sadnesse too affected I know well the losse of our friends doth touch us I would not remove the sense but the errour and if we must give any thing to nature wee must yet give more to reason but I correct my selfe it is not so much nature thâ—t makes us to weepe excessiuely as opinion since there is no time wherin noble spirits shold not aspire to felicity what shew of reason is there that to gaine the glory of loving well a man should racke and torment himselfe True it is that passions there are whereof we forbid but the excesse but for sorrow wee should take away the very use it selfe and not serve our selves of it but for repentance In all things else it is superfluous and indeede perilous I doe notwithstanding much admire if shee bee often Mistresse of our soule since no body doth resist her I say more since wee detaine her spight of those that offer remedy Call to minde that shee is unprofitable to the dead dangerous to the living and may take life from those that have it not restore it to those have lost it shee pushes into the grave but never draws back any And to behold these lamentable effects take onely your glasse you may guesse the ill it does your soule by that it does your face Never did sorrow doe so much mischiefe as yours seeing it ruines at once two of the fairest things in the world your disposition and your beauty judge now if we have cause to complaine and if your melancholly ought not to be a just cause of ours think on this and consider how many you make weepe whilest you lament but one You see what I might write and yet account not my letter necessary I speake rather to your memory then your judgement and this is not to instruct but call to mind those lessons you give to others and would be at present usefull to your selfe I must now say to your soule as to sicke Phisitians that shee heale her selfe But I feare least it be spoken as unprofitably to you as them for if the sicknesse of the body takes away knowledge much more that of the soule NeveÌ„rthelesse I will hope better and beleeve you will not alwayes take pleasure to hug an ill whereof you may heale your selfe At least I thinke you will interrupt a little your teares if you open your eies to consider her that prayes you it is Madam Your c. The XXX Letter She rejoyces at the newes of her returns and professes no lesse feeling for her then her owne sister MAdam to judge with what conâ—entment I learnt the newes of your returne you neede but thinke with what passion I desired it Chorinde shall witnesse it and I beleeve that she will not boast to have shed more teares or made more prayers then I during your absence Let her say what she will if she be nearer to you by reason of blood I am then her by inclination the one is aswell a linke of nature as the other this is it you shold consider if you will not make me as unhappy as I am affectionate in what concernes you Let her esteeme that quality of sister I rather love that of my Mistris I am very glad to be lesse oâ—kin and more distanced in blood to be more neare by our alliance I rejoyce that nature obliges you to have more friendship for her that there may remaine more love for me I have spoken enough of my affection let us now speake of the griefe it produceth Verily if I had not learnd the newes of your returne my misfortune could no longer linger the possession of this good without advancing the end of my life If you againe make such voyages I will make my will before I bid you farewel â—nd ceasing to see you will practise the same ceremonies â—hey doe in ceasing to live I â—ssure you of it and this is no esse true then the affection which I have to be Madam Your c. The XXX Answer She assures her of her remembrance and her returne MAdam the onely consolation I have amongst a thousand occasions of sufferance which present themselves but too much in the Countrey where I am is the hope I have to see you And if you aske me of my entertainement I assure you the best and most ordinary I have is the remembrance of yours T is this which serves me for a counter poyson after that of many troublesome guests whom one cannot put off without making them enemies nor sâ—e without enduring a thousand incommodities You will say perhaps I not oblige you much to thinke on you at present And that if the company here were a little lesse insupportable I would never dreame of yours I assure you there is nothing so sweete in the world can make me forget it and that I have no lesse sorrow when I am deprived of it then joy when I possesse it It is to this happinesse I aspire with extreame passion and doe all I can to set forward my returne I hope it shall be no lesse chearefull then my departure was pensive You shall be the first to see the effects as you are to receive the menaces I say the menaces not the promises since all my visits are more worthy your feare then your hope It may be you are of another opinion but if this were not mine I should yet lesse merit then I doe the honor of your favour and the quality Madam Of Your c. The XXXI Letter She professeth that the course displeaseth her and that shee cannot imagine what delight may therein be found MAdam I am in despaire that my opinion is not conformable to yours and that the same thing is the object of your pleasure my anger I speake of the course which you cal the fairest houre of the day and I the most troublesome This is my opinion which yet I love not because yours is contrary give mee reasons to combat it there is nothing I desire so much as to learne those which make you love it that I may renounce those which make mee hate it I much feare not to be perswaded and albeit your spirit be very powerfull over others least mine in this occasion oppose her aversion to your eloquence I say an aversion not blinde like that of many others who content themselves to say they are not enclined to such a thing and will
that she shall be thanked on both sides for bringing them acquainted and after shewes that she is no way counterfeit MAdam you are not a little faulty if you doe with paine employ me you cannot deprive me of the occasions to serve you without taking from me those of contentment And judge if you ought to have any repugnancy since I am tyed to you by the two strongest chaines of the world inclination and obligation The desire I have to doe you some service is aswell an effect of my sympathy as my duty I beseech you bel eve it and especially in an occasion where my labor will be more honorable to me then profitable to you You desire I should bring you acquainted with Melâ—ante and I thinke you demand mee nothing which to her may not be very pleasing I shall receive thankes on both sides and you both shall have a better opinion of my spirit because of the interest I have in persons that are so rare Iudge not of her by my report but by her merit which is the cause of it when you have seene her you will not accuse me to have spoken more then truth And likewise you shall judge mee worthy of excuse if I have not exprest all her good qualities since there is too great a number I must make her the same complement for you and refer you both to a more particular acquaintance which you shall get in time But you are in the wrong to say there is nothing amiable in you but simplicity if you are simple t is by reason rather then nature And if you be without finenesse t is not by ignorance but contempt yours is a noble simplicity which comes not from want of spirit like that of many but onely from an aversion you have to impostures I hate them so much that it is impossible for me to suffer them There is nothing I desire so much in those I love as a solid honesty which serves for foundation to al vertues and without which there shall never be assurance in society nor commerce I seldome see those that are cunning to have much soule or vertue if they were really good or prudent they would lesse affect the appearance There are which conceale their vertues by modesty meane while that others conceale their defects by vanity But in the end men take away the vizards and discover in time what is worthy of blame or praise This is my opinion which I esteeme so much the more reasonable as it is conformable to yours Finally you know if I have cause to make warre with those that are lesse sincere since there is nothing so contrary to my humor as deceit and nothing so pure and naturall as my affection but especially that I have to be Madam Your c. The XXXIV Letter Shee rejoyces that she is not forgotten and feares least the number of her Letters be troublesome MAdam I must needs say in the feare I was in to be blotted from your memory I have beene very glad to know that your long silence was rather an effect of distance then oblivion You will that I interpret it so and I assure you I am of the number of those who beleeve easily what they desire I will not examine if it be truth or civility that speakes I make no more doubt there hath wanted occasion not wil if I have not received your letters As for mine I had cause to desire that some had stayed by the way since if you have received them all you should have no lesse reason to complaine for the testimonies of my remembrance then I for the silence of yours Our plaints had been very different you perhaps had lesse desired my Letters I yours more But I doe not repent I thinke you be not angry at my writing and since you suffer my affection your patience will stretch to those effects which shew it I wish stronger better to merit what you be to me and better to testifie what I am to you that is Madam Your c. The XXXIV Answer Shee assures her that her Letters shall never bee troublesome and expresses displeasure that hers were not all received MAdam you do me wrong to thinke I can ever forget you you must have lesse merit or I lesse knowledge of it There is nothing so true as the assurances I give you of my remembrance And you shall have better reason to beleeve then desire it This is more true then profitable to you You are my example and my remedy I thinke on you alwayes to comfort and instruct my selfe You tell me that I have not received all your Letters if it be so I have reason to complaine with thankes and to esteeme my selfe unfortunate at the same time I beleeve my selfe obliged I should be lesse worthy of this favour if I had lesse feeling of such a losse I see my selfe enforced to agree to contrary passions for the same cause joy and sadnes If I rejoyce to know you remember me it afflicts me not to have seene all the evidences as for my Letters you have receiv'd them all in the same day as I conceive albeit as you may well see I write them one after another I am sorry they were not given you in the time that I desired But seeing it is thus happened at least I shall thence draw one great advantage It is that henceforth if you receive none you will attribute it to my misfortune which else perhaps you would to my oblivion never then entertaine an opinion contrary to the purpose I have to honour you and whether I write to you or not beleeve that I am perfectly Madam Your c. The XXXV Letter She praies her to assist a friend of hers in some affaire MAdam I beseech you at the entrance of this to remember the command you made mee when I had the honour to bid you farewell and you will finde it lesse strange if I have rather suffered my self to be transported with feare to disobey you then to importune you by my Letters I can write you none but ill-composed but I forbeare not to hope you will suffer them and after having had patience for a bad conversation you will not deny it me for a bad Letter that which yet makes me hope this favour with more assurance especially in this occasion is that I write for one who hath wisedome and vertue They are two qualities you love and possesse in a degree so eminent that even those who have them but in the meane finde easie accesse when any occurrent presents it selfe I assure my selfe this bearer which knowes this truth but by report shall quickly learne it by experience when he shall have seene you I doubt not but you will assist him and doe beleeve that in obliging him you will give me new ground to serve you and to be Madam Your c. The XXXVI Letter Shee makes her a Complement on the praises she had received MAdam you give me
from the remembrance of yours I know that absent persons cannot entertaine themselves but by the meanes of letters but it seemes to me there is not much pleasure to speake so farre off as we doe and that the words are very cold we put on paper For my selfe I cannot but complaine of it and I thinke I have more cause then any body you know it since there is scarse any likelihood to see you again This necessity which comforts in other occasions doth afflict me the more in this and if I had more hope I should have lesse torment I resemble the daughters of Princes married into strange Countries which never or very seldome returne If their matches be but banishments so is mine and though my fortune be not so glorious it is no lesse unhappy This is that which troubles me when I consider that I cannot re-approach you and that I must now write what I have beene accustomed to protest by mouth that I am perfectly Madam Your c. The XLV Letter Shee professeth her indâ—sposition to complement and makes her new offers of service MIstris I keepe my word and send you a Letter far from Complement and how should I make them since tho I know them not I hate them This is the reason you forbad me use them to satisfie my ignorance as well as my humor if I were not extreamely averse from them your entertainement would be my Schoole to learne But I must change discourse least with a Complement I blame it I am infinitely obliged to you for so many proofes of your remembrance and am so satisfied with the Paine you take to write I can no more expresse my content then the affection I have to honour you I sweare to you the one and the other is extreame and my onely displeasure is to have so little meanes to shew it I am barren of occasions to render you what I desire but not of desire to encounter those to serve you I hope if ever any be presented to acquit my selfe in some sort of the obligation I owe you by the care I will take to make you see how I am Mistris Your c. The XLVI Letter She complaines not to have heard from her and expresses the feare she hath to be no longer in her favor MAdam t is so long since I received any newes from you I scarse dare demand it any more I have cause to thinke it is not onely want of remembrance but of will that you deprive me of this favor I should be happy were it onely oblivion but I doubt t is also contempt If this be not my faith t is my feare But however if my misfortune be come to such extreamity at least take the paines to tell it me that I may not endure so great a losse and not weare mourning T is not long since I perceived by your Letters that I ought not long to hope the continuance Especially since I have beene at L. with Madam dâ— B. It seemes to mee you have taken mee for a stranger I shall never be so in what concernes you And beleeve assuredly what ever walk I make the change of the place shall never be followed with that of my affection but I must leave this discourse or rather finish it in the distrust I am to have no part in your favour I feare my Complements doe importune you I end them and this which I ought make no longer having reason to thinke you are no more in humour to reade Letters then to write I am so much afraid of it that I even make a scruple to finish this like others and I beleeve it is enough to be without daring tell you so Madam Your c. The XLVII Letter She complaines of her forgetfulnesse and assures her of her remembrance although she shold forbid it MAdam I begge your pardon for my writing I thinke it be to trouble you but to make it passe the least part of your time in reading the offers of a service so little necessary as mine I cease not however to acquit my selfe of this duty and to persecute you yet with my newes to shew you the extreme griefe I suffer to be deprived of yours I receive none and I feare that sending so few letters you have not a purpose to shew that mine displease you it was this I ought alwayes to thinke if I had not beene too credulous when you assured me the contrary likewise I beleeve that another more bold than I would pray you to remember your promises since upon the matter you have at other times made me to hope the honour of your remembrance but 't is a favour so much above me I should thinke it a fault to demand it and that indeede I did but dreame when I thought that I possest it Neverthelesse since I can no longer be happy by hope at least I will be so by remembrance I will consider times past to comfort me at present and though we be not rich by the goods wee have lost I will notwithstanding doe a miracle and make my selfe content by a felicity not in being all that can afflict me is that I know not if this will not offend you and if you grieve not to see me happie albeit you contribute nothing to it perhaps you will take it ill that an extraordinary merit like yours should serve for an object to so low a thought as mine but vexe your selfe at it while you list I shall very hardly obey you though you should fall into the humour to forbid it to forget your merits is to me as impossible as the remembrance of my defects is to you tedious And albeit the feare of your displeasure should hinder me to protest by letters the affection I have to serve you I cannot deny my selfe to be truely as I am Madam Your c. The XLVIII She thankes her for her approbation and saith that if she had more merit she should have lesse friends aswell as lesse like in the Countrey MY deare confident your prayses doe bring mee more shame than vanity they are so excessive that I cannot receive them without wronging the knowledge I should have of my selfe you are too liberall and if nature had done so much for me as you say I should be in case to rejoyce where as now I am to lament Certainely I cannot imagine the cause of so an extraordinary an approbation If it proceede from affection you are in an errour if from subtlety you would put me in one I beleeve there ia a little of the one and the other and that civility mixt with friendship renders you so prodigall in my behalfe I will not abuse it and the greatnesse of your courtesie shall not hinder mee to see the greatnesse of my defects This is the way best to acknowledge the favour you doe me for looke how much I esteeme my selfe more imperfect I shall esteeme you more obliging but leave mee the opinion you have of