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the Matter as well as she could, and, taking the next

Way to the Church; she desir'd me to bear her Company 9y. thither. Altho' this Fit of Devotion seem'd somewhat

un seasonable to me, yet good Manners would not suffer me to let her walk alone. So with her I went, and all the Way had the Satisfaction to hear her vent her godly Spleen very plentifully at the young Marchioness; nie told me a hundred reproachfal Stories of her ;

nay, she did not forbear to censure even her Conduct. in

This Language continu'd 'rillshe came into the ChurchPorch. I admir'd with my self how it was possible for so zealous a Sermon-hunter to be so damnably cenforious.

All the while she was at Church, she made up her Mcuth as demurely as the best of the Congregation; as soon as it was over, she re-assum'd the old Argument, and raild on as fast as her malicious Lungs

would give her leave, 'till we came to the young Mar. in choness, who was still walking in the Garden. I had

there an Opportunity to discourse the young Lady in private ; and to satisfy my self whether there had been any former Quarrel between them; turn'd the Conversation upon the old Marchioness, of whom the spoke in very obliging Terms, and did not fay the leaft Syllable of her that was disrespectful. I'then made no Difficulty to conclude, that this formal Hypocrite, that was per pecually disgorging broken Ends of Sermons, and pelting every Body that came near her with Texts of Scripture, was nothing near so vertuous at Bottom as the young Lady, who kept her Devotion to herself ; and I made a thousand Observations during this short Journey, that fully confirm'd me in this Opinion.

The young Marchioness, who, as I told you before, made no great Noise or Bustle about her Religion, fpent brit half an Hour at her Toilet, and always got ready one of the first for her Journey.

The old Lady spent no less than three Hours in tricking herself, and made the Company perpetually tarry for her.

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Our religious Dame, for all her Pretences to Mortification, thought it no Sin to patch and paint ber self: The Marchioness, content with her face fuch as Heaven made it, fcorn’d to have Recourse to such Artifices.

The former must always have her Gellies, and Broths, and Caudles, and the Lord knows what, brought to her before she would venture her Carcafe out of Bed ; the latter never thought of eating'till the very Moment before she went into her Coach.

The young Lady was always in good Humour, spoke well of evěry Body, was fatisfy'd with every Thing, and carefully avoided all the Complements and Honours that were done her, in a Country where she was Mistress. . On the other Hand, the old Marchioness, who was a perfect Stranger in it, not only took every Occasion to receive them, but was always complaining that The had not Respect enough paid her. The Beds were never good enough for her, the Dinner never pleas'd her, the Servants were always fawcy or negligent, the Bills unreasonable, the Coach-man either drove too fast or too flow : Still the found one Opportunity or another to vent her pious Indignation. No Body's Name could be mention'd to her, but still she found something to blame in their Conduct. Then she was the most imperious Devil alive to her Servants, none of her Women ever liv'd a full Fortnight with her. In short, she was eternally railing, censuring, and backbiting ; but still she did it with a godly Air, and in the Language of the Old Testament.

If any one now should ask me the Question, which of these two I thought to have the most Religion, I should immediately declare my self in Favour of the young Marchioness; and yet to see how partially the World judges of Persons, the young Lady passes by common Consent for a Woman that is wholly devoted to the World, and the other is universally taken for a Saint.


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"Thus you fee how easily the World is impos'd upon by a fair Outside and glittering Appearance. 'Tis

true, your Persons of Sense fee through these thin Disguises, and are sensible of the Cheat; but where you meet one of that Character, you find ten thousand Fools that always aflift to deceive themselves. A Man of true Piety, that has 11o Designs to carry on,like one of an establish'd Fortune, always makes the least Noise. One never pulls out his Money, the other never talks of Religion, but when there's Occasion for it.

This puts me in Mind of a Passage that happen'd t'other Day..I made a Visit oné Afternoon to Madam

-, where I found several City-Ladies of the firft Magnirude. After a great deal of foolish Chat about . the Duty of Husbands, and the Infidelity of the Men, some Body in the Room, by what Accident I have now forgot, trump'd up Silvius's Name, who you know is a Man of great Merit, and has the Happiness to be well receiv'd by the fair Sex. Says a Starch'd Piece of Formality, I wonder how he comes to make so many Conquests; but for iny Party, tho' he figh'd a whole Age at my feet, I am sure I should never lose a Moment's Repose for him. I don't know the Gentleman, replies another Lady ; but if he is what the World represents him, I dare not answer to my Heart, that I could maintain it long against him. This latter fpoke her Sentiments honestly, and without Reserve, whereas the other was a dissembling Coquet, that had bury'd two Husbands, and was looking out for a third ; and, if warmly attack'd, would, I dare answer for her, swallow a Temptation without making wry Faces, as readily as an Ulurer does an Orphan.

But tho' a good Reason may be given why we have so many Hypocrites in Religion, when they make their Fortunes by it, I could never comprehend the Mystery, that the Generality of the World should be such Alles, to value themselves for Things that are apparently false


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Lucius is the Grand-son of a Chimney-sweeper, all the World knows it, and yet the Sot values himself, in all companies, upon his noble Extraction, ever. laftingly talks of the Services which his Ancestors have done the Publick. Yet, says a Gentleman to him one Day, finding him upon this Strain, the Publick is oblig'd to your Ancestors

if it had nos been for them, Paris had been in Danger of burning more than once.

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

Emelia is an antiquated Maid, censorious and deformi'd she has often brib'd Midwives and Persons to proclaim her for a great Fortune, and twenty Times given Money to be join'd in a Lampoon with twenty Sparks one after another, to try if something would come on't. But after all her Intriguing, the could never yet find any oneCully weak enough to marry her:Yet he perpetually cells, everyone he sees, what advantageous Matches she has refus'd in her Time

i such a Lord languish'd, and such a Knight run mad for her. And if you'll believe Captain Buff, the King has not dispos’d of the Government of a Fort these twenty Years, but he has had the first offer of it.

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

Your moll humble Servant.

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A Letter to the Duke of Buckingham

in Yorkshire. My Lord,

N humble Servant of yours here in Town,

Monf. Borne by Name, is so fully fatis-
A fy'd of the Reality of your Reformation,

that he expresses himself in these Terms

to all that have the Honour to know you. I dare venture my own Salvation upon the fame Bottom with that of the Duke of Buckingham's, so firm. ly do I believe the Sincerity of his Conversion.

Conversion, fayMr. Waller to him, have a Care what you say : People don't use to be converted nowa-Days so easily. This new Reformation you talk of in the Duke of Buckingham is owing neither to you nor me, nor yet to any Man living.

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

I mean Petronius Arbiter, the most delicate Man of his Age, for Poetry, Painting, and Musick. One that per pecually study'd and pursu'd Pleasure, one that turn'd the Day into the Night, and the Night into the sy, but at the fime Time fo absolute a Vol. IV,



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