The Dauphine’s Answer To Philip of Austria.

Neither the examples you have quoted, nor those which are daily before my eyes, have power enough to pervert me, I have a veneration for virtue, which you, forsooth, call the quality of a coxcomb; and an abhorrence for all that bears the stamp of vice, tho’ you have illustrated it with the prosperous and glorious reign of the French monarch. But were the first unknown to me, I would not look for it in your life; since, according to your best friends, it is a thing you never practised. As sons have no authority to condemn the conduct of their fathers, so I will not presume to examine into that of Lewis XIV. But tell me, I beseech you, what advantages you reaped from your bigottry and superstition? For my part, had I some of the ashes of every saint, in the Roman Calendar, in my snuff-box, and carried beads as big as cannon-bullets about me, I should not believe myself either a better christian, or less exposed to danger. But to what purpose did you, who never exposed your royal person in battle, arm yourself with all those imaginary preservatives? Or can you say they defended you from being devoured alive by millions of vermine, that punished you in this life, for the iniquities you daily committed, and were only the prelude to more terrible punishment. Let not my indifference for the church of Rome break your rest; I have no power at present, and I can’t tell what my sentiments would be, had I a crown on my head: but it now cruelly troubles me, to see France so weakened by the dispersion of so many thousand innocent people: and did my opinion signify any more in our councils than wind, I would advise the recalling of them. But the nymph, you see, with so much satisfaction, supply the place of your grandchild, and who has more power now than ever, is there as absolute as a dictator. The French monarchy, which has subsisted for so many ages, might be still supported without her; she being good for nothing that I know of, but to instruct youth in the nicest ways of debauchery; therefore I could wish the king would transport her to her native soil, and make her governess of the American monkies; a fitter employment for her than that she usurps over our princesses. To deal plainly with you, I have no ambition to see your jesty, being satisfy’d with knowing you from publick report; so will carefully avoid coming near your torrid zone, if ’tis possible for a man to be any time a king of France, without it.

Juvenal to Boileau.

SINCE we don’t dispatch couriers every day from the kingdom of Pluto, you ought not to be surprized, that I have not had an opportunity till now, of telling you what sticks in my stomach. I thought your first satires very admirable, your expressions just and laboriously turn’d, yet charming and natural. Were the distribution of rewards in my power, I should certainly give you something for your Art of Poetry: but for your Lutrin, that master-piece of your wit, that highest effort of your imagination, I see nothing in it worthy of you, but the verification. Every one owns you can write, nay, your very enemies allow it; but you know a metamorphosis requires an entire change; therefore, since you resolve to imitate Virgil, you should have made choice of noble heroes. He that travestied the Æneis, understood it better than you, and did not fatigue himself so much; and as he was a man of clear and good sense, has judiciously remark’d, that his queen disguised like a country-wench, is infinitely beyond your clockmaker’s wife dress’d like an empress. But let us leave this subject, which now it is too late to amend, since what is done cannot be undone. What did you mean, you I say, who have been accused of stealing my lines, and who, to deal honestly with you, have often followed the same road I have traced? What did you mean, I say, by reflecting on particulars in your satire against women: Did I ever set you that example? Is not my sixth satire against the sex in general; and when I look back as far as the reigns of Saturn and Rhea for [27] modesty, do I pretend the least shadow of it is left upon the earth? Unthinking fool! those different characters you have drawn, will make you so many particular enemies; and I question, if the patroness you have chosen can secure you from their claws.

If an affected zeal inspires you with so much veneration for a saint of the Italian fashion, in truth you ought to have burnt your incense so privately, that the smoke might not have offended others. How can the bard that boasts of eating no flesh in Lent, that would frankly discipline himself in the face of the godly, like one of the [28] militia of St. Francis, adore a golden cow, and adorn an idol each blast of wind can overthrow, with those garlands which should be preserv’d for the statues of the greatest heroes! She is, it is true, very singular in her kind; but will you stain your name, of illustrious poet, by creeping before a walking mummy of her superannuated gallantry? your sordid interest has made you a traytor to Satire; and thereby you occasion here continual divisions, [29] Chaquelian and St. Amant have been at cuffs with [30] Moliere and Cornielle, because you have not treated them so civilly as your [31] Urgande. The two first ridicule your sordid covetous humour, and say you learnt that baseness while you belong’d to the Register’s Office. The other two, who were perhaps of your trade, defend the honour of your extraction. But St. Amant[32], who will never forget the unworthy character you have given him concerning his poverty, which he swears is false; and submitting his verses to the judgment of unprejudiced persons, for which you ridicule him, said in a haughty tone, (which set us all a laughing) that when he was a gentleman of the chamber in ordinary to the queen of Poland, and embassador extraordinary at the coronation of the queen of Sweden, he kept several footmen of better quality than yourself. Chaquelian, who cannot say so much for himself, is content with singing the terrible valour of the duke de Nevers’s lackeys, who kept time with their cudgels on your shoulders. We were forced to call for a bottle to appease this war; and St. Amant, taking the glass in his hand, swore by his maker, he had rather you had call’d him drunkard than fool, tho’ he drinks very moderately in this place, where it is no great scandal to be thirsty. Be not concerned at this paragraph, because the rest of my letter sufficiently testifies the esteem I have for you, and my concern for your welfare: therefore to preserve both, renounce your sordid way of praising vice, and employ your happy talent in teaching good manners, and correcting the bad, which will be an employment worthy of your great genius, and is the only way to recommend you to the good opinion of the learned ancients.

Boileau’s Answer to Juvenal.

Thus suffering the gall of my heart to flow thro’ the channel of my pen, I procur’d myself enemies in abundance, and since I must confess all to you, some stripes with a bull’s-pizzle, which was a most terrible mortification to my shoulders; but I bore all this with the patience of a philosopher, as will appear by the following lines.

The four first lines, I must own, are something against the grain; and the natural inclination I have to rail, and be thought an excellent poet, gives my tongue the lie; but the four last, which shew more prudence than wit, reconcile that matter. ’Tis certainly, illustrious bard, more difficult to please the world now than it was in your time; for if I write satire, I am beaten for it; if I praise, I am call’d a mercenary flatterer, which so disheartens me, that I address myself now to my Gardener only; and do not doubt but some busy nice critick will be censuring this poem also. Not being in the best humour when I writ it, perhaps it may appear something dark and abstruse; but I can easily excuse that, by maintaining that ’tis impossible for the best author in the world to keep up always to the same strain, Have you ever heard of the tales of the Peau d’Asne, & Grisedilis? if Proserpine had any little children, ’twould be a most agreeable diversion for them, and I wou’d send it ’em for a present. Tho’ that author furnishes you with sufficient matter to laugh at me, yet I must confess he has found the art of making something of a trifle. Every one here learns his verses by heart; and in spight of my translation of Longinus, which makes it so plainly appear, I understand Greek, and know something of poetry, my book begins to be despis’d. Wou’d it not break a Man’s heart to see such impertinent stuff preferr’d before so many sublime pieces? But, as for your glory that will eternally subsist, and nothing can destroy it, since time has not already done it.

Diana of Poictiers, Mistress to Hen. II. of France, to Madam Maintenon.

SINCE the spirit of curiosity possesses us here in this world, no less than it did in your’s, ’tis an infinite trouble for those persons, Madam, who were acquainted with every thing while they liv’d, not to know all that passes after their death; and of this you’ll one day make an experiment. I am not desirous to know, Madam, what you have done to succeed the greatest beauties of the earth, in the affection of an old libidinous monarch, nor what charms you make use of to secure the possession of his heart, at an age you cannot please without a miracle. My planet, dear Madam, has rendered me somewhat knowing in these affairs, for Henry II. was my gallant as long as he liv’d; and tho’ I was little handsomer than you, I was not, I think, much younger. But I must tell you, I cannot comprehend what procures you those loud commendations and applauses which reach even to our ears, and are by their noise most horribly offensive to us. The advantages of my birth were great; and it is well known my charms so captivated Francis I. that they redeem’d my father from the gallows. I marry’d a very considerable man, and the name of Breze Reneschal of Normandy, sounds somewhat better than that of Scarron the queen’s ballad-maker. The house of Poictiers too, from which I was descended, may surely take place of those monarchs from whom that mercenary fellow Boileau derives your extraction; and lastly, if I had a few particular enemies, I did nothing to make myself generally odious. Yet for all this, I was neither canoniz’d nor prais’d, but openly laugh’d at, and by one of my own profession, I mean the duchess of Estampe, who was mistress to the father of my lover, and said she was born on my wedding-day. Blundering impudent Bayard was banish’d for speaking too freely of me; and tho’ it was said, That for me alone beauty had the privilege not to grow old, the compliment was so forc’d, that I was little the better for it. Ragged Marot was the only poet that ever pretended to couple rhimes in my praise; and I will appeal to you if he did not deserve to go naked.

What think you, Madam, of this, is it not rather satire than praise? Shou’d the bard, that sings your virtues from the top of Parnassus down to the market-place, be as sincere, how wou’d you reward him? Tho’ I know he has more prudence, yet I cannot believe he compares you to Helen for beauty, to Hebe for youth, for chastity to Lucretia, for courage to Clelia, and for wisdom to Minerva, as common report says; because, were it true, it is not to be suppos’d you would have but a poor deform’d poet in possession of such mighty treasures. For were there not scepters and crowns then enticing? Were not then the eyes of princes open? Did you chuse an author for your love, out of caprice or despair? Did you take his wicker-chair for a throne? Or did the love of philosophy draw you in? Had the latter wrought upon you, you would not have been the first, I must confess; for the famous Hirparchia, handsome, young, and rich, preferr’d poor crooked Crates before the wealthiest and most beautiful gentleman of Greece. I am unwilling to judge uncharitably, but I cannot be perswaded that such an alliance could be contracted without some pressing necessity. When I reflect on the beginning, increase, and circumstances of your fortune, I am astonish’d? for neither your hair, which was grey when you began to grow in favour; nor the remembrance of [33] a vestal once adorned; nor the idea of a [34] blooming beauty, whom cruel death suddenly snatch’d away by the help of a little poison; nor the presence of a [35] rival, by so much the more dangerous, because she had triumph’d over several others, could prove any obstacles to your prosperity. The beautiful lady that brought you out of your mean obscurity; and in whose service you thought yourself happy, is now content if you let her enjoy the least shew of her former greatness. In this Chaos I lose myself, Madam; but if you will bring me out of my confusion, I faithfully promise to give you an exact account of all that concerns me, when I shall have the pleasure of embracing you. I exceedingly commend your prudent conduct; for those young plants you cultivate in a [36] terrestial paradice, will one day produce flowers to crown you; and the zeal you profess for a religion which began to act furiously in my time, must stop the mouths of the nicest bigots, and make the tribunal of confession favourable to you; tho’ perhaps, dear Madam, it may make that of Minos a little more severe.

Madam Maintenon’s Answer to Diana of Poictiers.

CUriosity, Madam, being the character of the great and busy, I will answer you according to your merit and birth, tho’ you have not treated me so, since you know what charms a lover when youth is gone; I will dismiss that point to come to the history of my life, and the virtuous actions I am prais’d for. I know you are of an antient family, that you marry’d a man of power and riches; and that you were Francis the First’s bedfellow, before his son fell in love with you. As for me, I was born in the [37] new world, under a favourable constellation; and the offspring of a Jaylor’s daughter, with whom my father, tho’ of royal blood, was oblig’d, either thro’ love, or rather necessity, to cohabit. Fortune, which never yet forsook me, first deprived me of my beggarly relations, without leaving me wherewithal to cover my nakedness, and then brought me into Europe, where I found a great many lovers, and few husbands. Poor deform’d Scarron at last offer’d me his hand; I had my reasons for accepting him, and his infirmities did not hinder me from receiving that title which was convenient for one in my circumstances. In short, I lost him without much concern; and liv’d so prudently during my widowhood, that Madam Montespan took me out of my cell, to bring me into the intrigues of the court. Every one knows I drove my generous patroness from the royal bed; and that since my being in favour, I have been profusely liberal to all my idolaters. Our poets, who do not resemble Marot, value not honour, provided they have good pensions, which I generously bestow on them, and they repay me in panegyricks; by which means I am handsome, young, chaste, virtuous, wise, and of as noble blood as Alexander the Great. Tho’ I was a Protestant, the church is not so foolish as to enquire into my religion, thus out of a principle of gratitude, and to fix her in my interest, I have fill’d the heart of our monarch with the godly zeal of persecution. I have also founded a stately [38] edifice, where I breed up a great many pretty young virgins, who, no doubt on’t, will prove as modest and discreet as their founder; and I play so well the part of a queen, that the world thinks me so in reality. These few hints may give you some light into my history, Madam, therefore to reward my sincerity, if you find Minos dispos’d to use me severely, prepare him, I beseech you, to be more favourable.

LET all those that are ambitious of the title of favourite learn by the history of my life, how dangerous a folly it is to monopolize their prince’s smiles. A man climbs to the top of this slippery ascent thro’ a thousand difficulties; and if he is not moderate in his prosperity, (which few are) he often falls with a more precipitated shame into disgrace. I acquir’d, or rather usurp’d, the favour of Edward II. in whose breast the proud Gaveston had before me licentiously revell’d. To effect this, my father lent me his helping hand; but without growing wiser by the examples of others, the vanity of my ambition made me follow that wandring star, call’d fortune. I no sooner had possess’d myself of the king’s ear, but I crept into the secrets of his heart, and infected it with the blackest venom of mine; acting the part of a self-interested, not an honest minister. As I valued not the glory of his reign, or ease of his people, provided I governed him, and render’d myself master of his treasures; so did I never move him to relieve the miserable, or reward the faithful and deserving, but endeavour’d to blacken the merit of their greatest actions, and so settled the first motions of his liberality, with reasons of sordid interest. If any places of trust were to be fill’d, covering my treachery still with the veil of zeal and love for my country, I recommended only such as were devoted to my service; pretending ill management in every thing that went not thro’ my hands; and that the nation was betray’d, whilst I, like some of you now, was selling it, and was in reality the worst enemy it had. After I had sacrific’d the great duke of Lancaster to my revenue, and a hundred persons of quality besides, I sow’d discord in the royal family, The queen, with the prince of Wales her son, and the earl of Kent, the king’s brother, retir’d into France; during which time I govern’d at my ease, wallow’d in luxury and riches, and had interest enough to hinder Charles the Fair from protecting his sister. The Pope, who was of my religion, storm’d like a true father, son of the church, and so frighted the king of France, that in spite of their nearness of blood, he hunted the queen of England out of his dominions. But at last the king being reconciled, the queen returns; I was taken prisoner, and by the laws of the kingdom, sentenc’d to be drawn on a sledge, at sound of trumpet, thro’ the streets of Hereford. The circumstances of my death were infamous; my head was expos’d at London, my bowels, heart, and some others parts of body burn’d, my carcass abandon’d to the crows, in four parts of the kingdom; the justest reward a villain, who had almost destroy’d both king and country cou’d expect. This is, gentlemen, favourites and ministers, a picture you ought all to have in your closets, to keep you from resembling it. When in favour, banish not justice, clemency and generosity, from the thrones of your master; and to avoid a just hatred, and make men of virtue your friends, study the publick interest. Turn over old histories and you’ll find there is scarce one, or few of us, got peaceably to the grave, but either starv’d or rotted, or immortaliz’d a gibbet. Not one eye ever wept for our sufferings, pity itself rejoiced. Thus detested on earth, and curs’d by heaven, our last refuge is to become the prey of devils. Consider well, gentlemen, and arm yourselves against all those vicious passions, which will certainly undo you, if you listen to them as I did. Therefore in the slippery paths of a court, take prudence and justice for your supports.

The Answer of the Chief Ministers of the King of Iveter to Hugh Spencer.

THE picture you have drawn of your life and death, shews you were notoriously wicked, and rewarded according to your deserts. But let me tell you, Sir, that ’tis a great mistake to believe a minister cannot manage or steer his prince, without abusing him and the publick. Because you were the horror of your age, is it an inevitable destiny for other favourites to be so too? I will not here make my own panegyrick, but leave that care to posterity: However, I will boldly maintain, that to suffer a master to divide his benevolence, when one can secure it all to ones self, is folly and stupidity. A prudent man knows how to make a right use of his master’s weakness; and if he finds him inclin’d now and then to gratify eminent services, he will not seem much averse to it, provided still he loses nothing by the bargain: But if his prince is of a covetous temper, charity, which always begins at home, then bids him shut up his Exchequer, and reserve to himself the sole privilege of opening it at leisure. ’Tis likewise no ill step in our politicks to cry down those actions, which might otherwise by their weight out-value ours: Upon such occasions to testify the least zeal, fidelity and care, will be thought meritorious. Tho’ the escutcheons we leave our children, have some blots in them, what signifies that, provided we leave them rich and noble titles, which will procure them honour, and all sorts of pleasures in this world, and a saint’s place hereafter, in that uncertain volume of the Roman Almanack.

Julia to the Princess of Conti.

AS you may wonder, madam, that I who lived so many ages ago, and at present am so many thousand leagues from you, should esteem and love you; might I wonder too, in my turn, if you should have a good opinion of me, after so many historians have conspired to blacken my reputation. But there are, dear sister, such circumstances in our fortunes, as ought to make us love one another, and hold a friendly correspondence; since you are like me, the daughter of a beautiful, treacherous prince, who drags good fortune at his heels; and of a mother who renounced the world before it did her the injury of renouncing her. I was once the ornament of the court of Augustus, and you now shine like a star, in that of Lewis XIV. I was marry’d very young to Marcellus, the hopes of the Romans; and almost in your infancy, you were given to the most amiable man that ever was of the Bourbons: I lost the son of Octavia some months after our marriage, and your forehead was bound with the fatal sable, before Hymen’s garlands were in the least withered; you are handsome, I was not ugly; you occasion jealousy, and I suffer’d the sharpest darts of destruction: I had lovers beyond number; and who is able to reckon your’s? They have not perhaps been so favourably received; and I believe the air, and want of opportunity, not our inclinations, to be the cause, for you never yet despis’d those pleasures I daily enjoy’d and sigh’d after; and tho’ by the death of Agrippa, I came under the tyranny of Tiberius, I pursu’d my inclinations to the last. Widows of your age generally enter the list again: But, princess, the counsel I have to give you, is, to reserve to yourself the liberty of your choice. There are so many Tiberius’s where you are, that one may easily fall to your share, and after that nothing but banishment will be wanting to finish the comparison. A very malignant [39] planet at present commands your destiny; and ’tis in vain to expect justice from that jealous, ill-natur’d fury. Now I have given you advice, which, if I could return into the world, I would follow myself, permit me to justify my actions.

Historians tell you, I endeavoured to reign in every heart, whatever it cost me, without any regard to the owner’s birth and condition: But do you think that so very criminal? Does a little kindness deserve so severe a censure? Must persons of quality be always oblig’d to have an eye on their dignity? and did not he that made the prince, make the coachman? But what I cannot with patience suffer, is the impudent lie some have made concerning Ovid; that versifyer had a nicer fancy in poetry than beauty; like your father, My dear sister, he imagin’d wonderful charms in grey hairs; for Marcellus was but newly dead when he fell in love with Livia. ’Twas her he celebrated under the feigned name of Corinna; and when he pleas’d, disciplin’d, she, like a child not daring to resist. Thus people being ignorant of closer privacies, invent malicious lies; for do you suppose I would have suffer’d such insolent usage? And that if I had not been strong enough to have cuff’d that rhiming puppy, I would not have found out some other way to have been even with him? You very well see my reasons have some appearance of truth, and I am confident, that when we meet we shall agree very well. The emperor who had his private amours, never troubled those of his wife; and Merena’s spouse, proud of possessing the affections of so great a monarch, returned in soft embraces the favours bestowed on her husband. I have insensibly made you an ingenuous consession; do you the same, madam, for hell is so damnable tiresome, that I gape and stretch a thousand times an hour. When your hand is in, pray send me word what they are doing in your part of the world; but above all, give me a true account of your amours and conquests; for those relations tickle us, even when we have lost the power of acting. Therefore to invite you to be very plain with me, as likewise to divert myself in my present melancholy moments, I will give you some of my thoughts in metre, such as it is.

As reproaching and talking freely is not here discouraged; so had I done any lewd trick, your confessor wou’d have acquainted you with it; for he keeps a strict correspondence with the chiefest ministers of our monarch. You have been jealous where you ought not, and the saints of St. Germains and Versailles, when they come to discover the mystery of your curiosity, will never forgive you. The mealy mouth’d Goddess was always easy to be corrupted, and the old monster Envy prospers but too much; therefore take care of one, and prevent the other, that the sins of others may not be imputed to you. All that the world can say against your virtue, shall never diminish my good opinion of it; and if you do not believe the character I give of myself, consult [40] Calprinede, who has drawn me to the life, and was a great master in that way, as Apelles in his. Farewel, fair princess, and remember that Julia languishes with desire to see you.

The Princess of Conti’s Answer to Julia.

I Did not expect to be honoured with a letter from so famous a princess as Julia: This makes my joy so much the greater. I do sincerely declare, that I take all you say to me so reasonable, that I can do no less than applaud it: And I further assure you, that I never search’d for your character in those disobliging authors who magnify the lest false step, and make an elephant of a mouse. I am satisfy’d to know you, as I find you in Calprinede; and the complaisance he pretends you had for Ovid, does not hinder me from having a great affection for your amiable qualities; and believing as advantageously of your modesty as you can desire. I am not so severe as to imagine a little indulgence can be a greater crime; but think those who will, for a little natural civility, ruin the reputation of courteous ladies, to be malicious people, only envying those gallantries which are addressed to others. But, madam, you have strangely surprized me with what you tell me of Livia; for I always believed, that when old ambition was her only blind side; but am astonished to hear she was amorous. This discovery confirms the received opinion, that old age has a wanton inclination, as well as youth, tho’ not so much ability; and since the wife of Cæsar lov’d the language of the muses, I am not astonished that our saints of St. Cyril have been charm’d with it. But, dear madam, is it certain that Ovid disciplin’d her like a child; I thought the Roman ladies had not wanted that exercise; and I believe my gallants will never be obliged to come to that extremity with me. I need not use much precaution against the folly of a second marriage; for tho’ I was coupled to a very charming young man, yet I soon found my expectations bilk’d, because the name of husband and wife, and thoughts of duty so lessened the pleasures of our softest embraces, that it made them odious. So that now I only love a spouse for a night, from whom I may be divorced the next morning; and this perhaps, you’ll find more plainly expressed in the following lines, as I doubt not, dearest sister, but you have made the experiment.

And will be always so, illustrious princess, to our great comfort and satisfaction. You have heard, I suppose, what the writing of a few letters has cost me; so that I have laid aside all commerce of that nature at present, and am often oblig’d to trifle my thoughts. Had I not fear’d Mercury’s being searched, I would have opened my heart a little more to you; but if the times ever change, or madam Maintenon, the governess of Versailles, becomes less inquisitive, you may certainly expect to receive an epistle, or rather a volume from me.

I put no confidence in the king my father, and he is so jealous of me, that should he pack up his awls for the other world, I wou’d not trust him. I pity you for being kept so close, and having so bad company. That you may yawn and stretch less, and laugh a little more, entertain yourself with la Fontain’s tales, or the school of Venus, both excellent books in their kind, which I am confident will extreamly divert you; not so much upon the account of their novelty, as by recalling to your mind some past actions of your life.

For my part, I highly esteem them both, and you’ll oblige by telling the author so.

Dionysius the Younger, to the Flatterers of what Degree or Country soever.

THO’ the torments I now suffer for my former tyrannies, are as great as they are just; yet you cursed villains, deserve much greater, for being the promoters of them. You, with your infernal praises, blind the eyes of princes, and hurry them on headlong to their ruin: therefore I charge you with all the ill actions of my reign. I was no sooner seated on my throne, but you so swell’d me with pride, by applauding all my perjuries, oppressions and cruelties, that I believ’d it lawful for our race to be tyrants, from father to son, with impunity. Every one knows my father was equally wicked and covetous, neither sparing, or fearing men or Gods; and of this Jupiter and Æsculapius are examples. In a fit of impiety, till then unpractised by the most desperate villains, he stripp’d the first of his golden mantle, excusing it with this jest, That ’twas too hot for the summer, and too cold for the Winter. To the second he turn’d barber and cut off his golden beard, which with great devotion had been presented to him, alledging, It was improper for the son, since his father Apollo went without one. When his conduct had thus render’d him odious to the world he thought it necessary to make himself secure; for which end, he ordered a large deep ditch to be dug about his palace; but that was no fortification against fear, which could creep in at every key-hole; and his distrust increased to that degree, that he suspected his nearest relations. Not so much as a Maintenon came near him. At last his guards to oblige the world, cut his throat, and sent his soul as a harbinger to the Devil, to provide room for his body; and the people thinking me to be a much honester man, without difficulty plac’d me on his throne. But I soon took care to convince these credulous sots, that a worse was come in his room, far exceeding him in cruelty, I endeavoured to secure my throne by actions then unknown to the world. First, I caused my brothers to be put to death, and when I had glutted myself with the blood of these victims, I made no scruple to violate the laws, and trample upon all the just rights and liberties of my people. By those and a thousand other barbarities, tiring the patience of the Syracusans, they drove me into Italy, where the Locrians kindly received me: and I to requite them for their civility, ravish’d their women, murder’d numbers of their citizens, and pillag’d their country. At last, by a now contrived treachery, I re-entered Syracuse, with design to revenge myself by new desolations; but Dion and Timolion, much honester men than either myself or you, prevented me by putting me a second time to flight. ’Twas my destiny, and I wonder historians do not add the epithet of coward, to my just name of tyrant. I then retired to Corinth, where in a short time my misery became so pressing, that I was forc’d to turn bum-brusher in my own defence, a condition which best suited with a man that delighted in tyranny and blood; and as I had been one of Pluto’s disciples, I taught a sort of philosophy which I had learned, but never practised. Thus was my throne turn’d into a desk; and my scepter into a ferula. Heavens! what a shameful metamorphosis was this. But, gentlemen sycophants, with a murrian to you, I may thank you for it. You, like the Cameleon, can put on any colour, can turn vice into virtue, and virtue into vice, to deceive your masters; and under the specious pretence of religion can commit the greatest barbarities. But tho’ under the shelter of that reverend name, you think all your iniquities undiscovered, so you possess your prince with the abominable zeal of persecution; yet heaven sees and detests your hypocrisy, and even men at long-run, discover the cheat. Oh! ye unworthy enemies of virtue, whose only aim is to raise your own fortunes upon the ruin of others. How useful are you to the Devil? You matter it not, provided you compass your desired ends; if we lay waste the universe, and afterwards become the hate and scorn of all mankind: As for example, ’tis long of you that I have been a pedant in Greece, and that [41] one of my rank, had he not been taken to rest, would have been forced to cover his follies under a stinking cowl, in the lousy convent of la Trape. You will not fail, I know, to applaud all his actions, and say, if he lost all, ’twas only for obliging his subjects to take the true road to heaven, and give the title of resignation to meer necessity and compulsion. But is it a sacrifice to renounce thro’ despair, the grandeur we cannot maintain any longer? Is it not rather imitating the animal in the fable, that despises the grapes which are out of his reach? But I waste my lungs in vain, and talk to the deaf: however, if I have been humbled, believe that you will not always be exalted. ’Tis my comfort that you will one day be condemned to turn a wheel like Ixion, to roll stones like Sysiphus, to be devoured like Prometheus, continually thirsty like Tantalus, and to heighten your evils, that you will never lose the remembrance of those villanies you committed.

The Answer of the News-Mongers to Young Dionysius.

THE flatterers have done you too much honour, Mr. Pedant, and shou’d they believe you, and turn honest, (of which I think there is no great danger) and perswade their masters to be just to their oaths and treaties, wou’d not they govern in peace and unity? And wou’d not that very thing cast the world into such a drowsy tranquility, that it wou’d be melancholy living in it, and starve millions of all degrees and professions, who now, lord it very handsomely? We, I’m sure, shou’d be first sensible of it, by having no variety of news to stuff our London Gazettes, Mercuries and Slips with; which wou’d make the booksellers withdraw our stipends, and by consequence oblige us to leave off tipping the generous juice of the grape, and content ourselves with Geneva, or some more phlegmatick manufacture. Therefore keep your harangues for your school-boys, and do not maliciously take our daily bread from us, and seek to ruin those complaisant persons, that can condescend to sooth the vanities and inclinations of their princes. But to dismiss this point, and return to yourself; ’tis plain you have not a jot of honour about you, since you pay no regard to your father’s reputation. We easily perceive you have been a pedagogue by your tattling; which indiscretion makes you unworthy the title of great Pluto’s disciple. But has your pedantick majesty no better rewards to bestow on gentlemen of courtly breeding than wheels, vultures, millstones, and an eternal thirst? Truly ’tis very liberal, and school-master like in every respect; but you are desired to keep those mighty blessings for yourself, who deserve them much better than any one else; and if you were cullied by those about you, talk no more on’t, but keep your weakness to yourself.

Christiana, Queen of Sweden, to the Ladies.

THAT I, who never testify’d much esteem for the fair sex, should at this time address myself to them, will without doubt be thought strange; but if necessity breaks laws, it ought also to cancel aversion, and excuse me for seeking protection amongst a sex I have so often despised, being compelled to it by a thousand injuries done to my memory. Therefore I now ask pardon of the ladies; and am perswaded I do them no little honour, (since there has seldom been a more extraordinary woman than I was) in owning myself one of the female kind. First, I may boast of all the advantage of a glorious birth, being daughter of the Great Gustavus Adolphus, who did not only fill the north, but all the universe with admiration; and of Mary Elianor of Brandenburgh, the worthy wife of such a husband. If I was not as handsome as Helen, and those other beauties, whom the poets have from age to age recorded in the book of fame, yet all the world own’d me a woman of incomparable parts. I was queen at five years of age, and even so early took upon me that important trust, which but few men are capable to discharge, and which fewer would covet, if they knew the troubles that attend it; yet I supported the weight of all affairs with such a grace and prudence, that my crown did not seem too heavy for me. As soon as reason had made me sensible of my power, my only thoughts were how to make myself worthy of it. To this end, I invited to my court those I thought the most capable of improving it; which was no sooner known by the beggary French, but Stockholm swarm’d with masters of all sciences. Among the rest I had a pack of hungry poets; but he that took the most pains, was not the best rewarded, because he did not resemble Boileau, who can in half an hour make a saint of a devil. In my green years, I seem’d only addicted to grandeur and virtue; for I studied like a doctor, argued like a philosopher, and gave lessons of morality to the most learned; so that every body imagin’d I should eclipse the most famous heroines. But I had not yet heard the voice of a certain deity, whose language I no sooner understood, but it poison’d all my former good dispositions; for whereas till then I had been charm’d with the conversation of the dead, I began now to have passionate inclinations for the living. But not to undeceive the world, which thought my conduct blameless, I was forc’d to put a curb to my desires, or at least to pursue them with more precaution, whether the trouble to find myself so inclin’d, or my grandeur, which wou’d not allow of those liberties I sigh’d for, oblig’d me to punish the flatterers of my passion, I know not; but I committed many barbarities. As my desires were insatiable, so ’twas not in my power to confine them; and this gave my subjects too many opportunities to discover several indecencies in my management; and because I wou’d not be tumbled headlong from my throne by them, I very prudently condescended, and put my cousin Charles Adolphus in my place. Then did I, under pretence of visiting the beauties of France, take large doses of those joys I durst no longer take at Stockholm. I was treated every where as a queen, had palaces at my command, and I made at Fountainbleau, which was before a bawdy-house, a slaughter-house also before I left it.