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All the Town was melancholy upon the News'; bue especially those who are in the Interests of Beauty, lamented as heartily, as some pious People do, when they hear of a Chriftian Town fall’n into the Hands of the Infidels. And that we fear is your Cafe ; for if a Man has no oiher Way of thewing his Faich but by his Works, 'cis concluded by all sides, that your Lot is fall’n upon a Person who is as nearly related to an Infidel, as an Informer is to a Villain.

I have lately read over some of the old Martyrologies, where innumerable Instances are to be found, of Persons of both Sexes, who, in a Fit of Devotion, practis'd strange Austerities; but none of them come up to you, even of those, who, for the fingular Mortification they enjoyn'd themselves have been advanc'd to the Kalendar by Holy Church.

We meet with frequent Instances of young Virgins, that have leapt into the Flames to make Profeflion of their Belief, and courted Death in its most terrible Mien, as eagerly as other Women do a Coronet and a Title. Some have attended the Sick in Hospitals, and in the Midst of Afluence and Plenty have deny'd themselves the Conveniencies of Life, and mortify'd in Sackcloth. Some, after the Priest has done his Office, have refus'd to receive the lawful Tribute of Matrimony; and some have oblig'd themselves to a perpetual Silence, which is certainly Self-denial enough in a Woman. Others have injur'd their own Beauty, to preserve themselves from the Courtship of their Lovers, or from the Luft of Tyrants, But, alas! what Proportion does this bear to what you have done ? Death puts a Period to all our Miseries; but you have given a greater Proof of your Constancy, by resolving to live. You have confin’d yourself to a walking Infirmary, and nothing but Providence can give you a Discharge. You have facrific'd your Youth and Beauty to one that can enjoy neither, nor will suffer others to do it for him, like the modern Library.keeper of St. James's ; he will neither pe

ruse

ruse your Manuscript, the fairest in the World, vor lend it to others, who can make a better Ufe of it. In short, there's never a Ghost in Glanville or Aubry, if he met him in a Church-yard, but would take hing from his Brother Spectre. You, and your Hu{band, between you, really undergo two of the severest Punishments which Antiquity believ'd to be in Hell. He, like Tantalus, sees the Fruit everlastingly before him, which he is not in a Capacity of tafting. You, like Sisiplus, take an infinite deal of Pains to no Purpofe, to roll. a Stone every night, which is no sooner up, but ic falls down of itself, and will do fo to the End of the Chapter.

Tho' I need not exaggerate your own Torments to you, who are so well acquainted with them ; yet, as a Divine sometimes explains the Effects of Drunkennefs to his Parish, that know them as well as himself, give me Leave to lay down Part of the Perfecution you undergo before your Eyes, that through you the World may know what you endure.

The Night approaches; but the Night which bountifully rewards the Pains of other Lovers, proves but the Beginning of your Mifery. Even the Bed, where all the marry'd World besides find Happiness, or at least a Relaxation from their Pain, is the Scene where you suffer most emphatically. That old folemn Piece of Antiquity, call'd your Husband, leads you to this place of real Martyrdom; but no Execu. tion, with his Head muffled up in an Infinity of Caps; and his Lungs, left Musick should be wanting to the Entertainment, are sure to ferenade you all Night Jong. Thus he disturbs your Repose ; but has nothing about him to reward you for keeping you awake. If he has got his Cargo of Wine in his Guts, he snores by your side as heartily, as Garagantua and the Monks in Rabelais do, after they have rock'd themselves asleep with finging the Penitential Pfalms. But if in spite of Imporence and Age,

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Thus your

'he pretends to disturb you with his Vigour, his Shot fcarce reaches the Walls of the Fortress. Fate is just the Reverse of Semele, she generoufly expir’d in the Arms of the Thunderer, whereas your Fumbler chills you with his warmest Embraces ; his very Flames give you an Ague-Fit, and, like the Weather we have had of late, his Summer has a Spice of Winter in it. The Mischief on't is, that every Day 1* !l leave him a worse Practitioner than other; and Time, which uses to foften other Hardships, will daily make yours inore insupportable.

What is it then that could induce your Ladyship to pitch upon so rigorous a Penance, which your very Enemies (ivere it possible for you to have any) would never have impos'd upon you ? Since your Body can be no Gainer by this wicked Match, one would imagine you did it for the Benefit of your Soul ; but Religion produces no such Miracles in this Age, whatever it has done formerly. 'Tis enough now if People stick to it while they get by the Bargain ; for few, very few, even 'of those that wear her Cloth and ear her Bread, will be Lofers for her.

'Tis, in short, the Defire of unrighteous Mammon, that has drawn this Servitude upon you. You took this nauseous Pill only for the Sake of the Gilding, That pale-fac'd Metal, to purchase which our Merchants ransack every corner of the World, made you take up with this leaky batter'd Vessel ; but with this Difference, that whereas they are at Liberty to shift their Climate as they fee' fir, you have contin'd yourself to the Latitude of 70, and have fectled in a Country which is eternally cover'd with Snow, and affords no Prospect of a Spring. All that your humble Ser: vant can do, is, to wish that your Tyrant's Reign may be but of short Continuance; which is the daily Prayer of

Lyfander.

A Confolatory Letter to Mr. B....

on bis being a CUCKOLD.

I

when you

SIR,

Am none of the best Coin forters in the

World ; however, yours is so common I and easy a Case, that any one may set

up for a Ductor, and pretend to pre

fcribe Remedies for it, You send me Word, you are a Cuckold, and desire my Advice upon the Matter : Why, is this a Time to complain of Cuckoldom? You ought to have reconcil'd yourself to chat Point long ago, before you ventur'd into the holy State, and not to mortify with the Thought on't now,

can't help yourself. A Soldier should consider before he lifts himself, how he can bear the Lofs of an Arm or Leg; if he meets with an unlucky Shot, 'tis but the Chance of War; and if he comes off in a whole Skin, 'tis more than he could expect, and Providence used him better than he deserv’d. The Oracle in Rabelais, to which you are no Stranger, long ago declar'd, That every marry'd Man either has beengor is, or will be a Cuckold ; and could you ever hope to elude an Oracle ? For my Part, 'tis no more than what I expected to hear of you every Post: You have been long jealous of your Wife, and now ic comes Home to you; for Jealousy does as naturally ripen into Cuckoldom, as a Caterpillar into a horned Infect, callid a Buccer-Fly. However, you have got this by the

Bargain,

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Bargain; that it has cur'd you, God be thank’d, of your Jealousy, which is one of the worst Torments a Man can have; and who wou'd 1100 Lear with a fawcy Companion, to get rid of the Devil ? But after all, what you complain of, is no Disgrace; you share it in common with the Cæfars and Pompeys, and most of the Heroes of former Ages, and with the Naud M of this, besides an infinite Number of Dukes, Marquelles, Earls, Bishops, Knights, Aldermen, Deans, Archdeacons, Heads and Governors of Colleges and Halls ; and who would regret to be join'd in fo good a Company ?

But, your Family's dishonour'd, and fo, perhaps, it has been twenty times since the Conquest. I told you before, I had no extroardinary Hand at Comforting. A thousand other Families have been subs ject to the same Calamity; and why you should expect to fare better than your Neighbours, I don't understand. But if i had deferv'd it from my Wife. Why, so much the better ftill: Other People use to comfort themselves in their Misfortunes, by reAecting upon their Innocence, and why should not

If your Wife has a Fancy to go to the Devil, let her ne'er lose her Longing : Rather than that should happen, do by her as Charles the Fifth is faid to do by a flying Enemy, build her a Bridge to go thither.

Weil, but what would you have me to do ?? You say, Fob, and Plutarch, and Seneca, have been so often prescrib'd to People in your Condition, that I won't offer them to you. My Advice is then, that you'd come to Town as soon as you can, and take a Lodging in Cheapfide, or near White-hall, and there, I'll pass my Word for't, you'll be thought no Monster ; cho' you unmannerly Folks in the Country stare at a Cuckold, as much as here we do at a King's Evidence just after a new Plot ; yet London's a civil Place, and we think him no Prodigy here. But if your Affairs won't give you Leave to come to Town, my Vol. IV.

N

you?

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