XII.

Jove Spake the Word, and from the Chaos rofe
The Form and Species of each kind
d;
He spoke the Word, which did their Law_com-

[pose, And all with never-ceafing Order join'd, Till ruffled for our Crimes by his chastising

XIII.

[Wind.

But now you Storms that have your Fury spent, As you his Dilates did obey,

Let now your loud and threatning Notes relent, Tune all your Murmurs to a fofter Key,

And blefs that gracious Hand, which did your [Progress ftay

XIV.

From my contemn'd Retreat, obfcure and low
As Grotts from which the Winds difperse;
May this his Praife as far extended flow:
And if that future Times fhall read my

[Verfe,

Tho' worthless in it felf, let them his Praife

[rebearfe!

Intell.] Since your Mightinefs's have fo favourably, fo gloriously diftinguifh'd me! and are pleas'd to remit to my Management the Order of your Enquiry; the Court nor Divan being not fo early affembled, if your Excellencies please to pass over two or three agreeable Meadows, we will

1:3

bring

bring you from the Tuilleries (for 'till the Evening, Company does not walk here) to the Palace of the young Prince de Beaumond, who fo remarkably diftinguished himself Yesterday to your radiant Eyes, in the Prado, by a thousand Graces peculiar to himfelf. But to divert the Length of the Way, for 'tis fome Furlongs to his Highnefs's Habitation, tho' the Hour feems by Nature affign'd rather for Repofe, than Matter of Obfervation; yet Grief, as well as Love, measuring Time only by the Duration of it felf, to whom Seafons are not number'd, Day and Night having neither Light nor Darkness to those whom Paffion has rendered incapable of diftinguishing, those Circumftances are of too little Force to beget any Diverfion from their Prepoffeffion. Grief, I fay, being of a restless Nature, uncapable of Repofe; you may, in entring this Houfe upon your Left, fee what it can do on a young Gentleman, whofe Wife (a Woman, as to her Temper, of inimitable Merit, because fhe was Paffive and Obedient) lies Dead amidst her Relations, to whom she was very dear. See! the Bed incompafs'd with her weeping Kindred and Acquaintance; behold the breathlefs Fair! an Iron Slumber fits upon her painful Brow! irremediable Death having for ever clos'd her Eyes! fhe was yet in her Bloom of Life! an Air of Sweetnefs ftill remains! fomething that speaks the Goodness of her Temper, and the Agreeablenefs of her Man

ner

ner. In that Face, his Afpect is neither grim nor terrible! an Abfence of Mind, and an uninforming Faculty; fomething we find wanting, fomething that is inexpreffible, and yet not frightful; fomething that has. banished Life, and yet has made it defective of no other Charm, but Motion. Who would not be reconciled to the Arms of Death, if his Poffeffions were every where fo lovely? The Compaffion which your Divinities have, for what relates to poor unhappy Mortals, makes you regard this moving Spectacle with Concern; I fee you both are touch'd, Ifee you almoft in Mourning. Pafs we on to the next Apartment, to exchange this Impreffion for another

There's her Husband! Behold that goodly fair extended Perfon! he is weeping, and he believes himself in earneft: See! how advantagiously his Sorrows have pofted him on a Bed, between two Ladies of different Merit and Pretenfions. The youngest of them is his Coufin, who does all her Endeavour to divert his Grief, through a Defire of having her Fatigue of Duty, her Attendance upon Decency the fooner over. Not fo the Lady on the Left, her Concern is real, and for himself, but he regards her not, because he will not, he cannot reward her; his Heart is for his Niece. In this guilty Apartment, he has not wafted, but lived away his Winter Hours, in the Company you fee. His own Lady, retired of Temper, pleas'd when he was diverted, tho' I 4 apart

apart from her Converfation, feldom mingling her own with theirs, confcious of an inferior Capacity, a Vertue rarely to be found in Wives, who think the Name alone of fufficient Force to center all Regard. Vertue and Goodnefs are indeed extremely Meritorious, and fhould beget Efteem, nay Admiration to the Poffeffor: Yet if those fparkling Sallies of the Mind be wanting, brillant Converfation, an Air of the World, a diftinguishing Intelligence of what is done in that World, how apt are the Hearers to languifh, and go in fearch of those that have fuch Amusements? Humankind being fonder of Diverfion than of Inftruction. This was our Mourner's Cafe: He laments her Dead, whom he neglected Living. See his Irruptions of Woe! What Sallies of Mourning? What inceffant Tears? Behold his Coufin! who cannot for her Life, fuffer him to impofe upon her, as he does upon himfelf. She too well remembers all he has faid to gain her Heart; how no Intreaty, no Extremity of his Lady's could fcarcely tear him, though but for a Moment, from his Niece's Converfation, to whom, with all his Endeavours, he was never acceptable. See how the leers, and almoft Smiles, upon her Partner in Confolation! who, though Mifirefs of more Senfe, yet has fhe the Command of Lefs, becaufe Love fhows her the wrong End of the Profpective, and makes her, against her Reafon, believe all that the Object of her Paffion requires her to believe.

Hence

Hence if you but obferve, her Arguments are really fitted to his Appearance of Sorrow. She admits that a Man whom fhe knows in Love with another, and who neglected his Wife yesterday, when living, can fincerely lament her to Day, when dead, without allowing for what is hourly performed by weak Minds, fubject to every Impreffion; and who fuffer their Senfes to be affected, and to run away with what their Hearts have in reality no part in. Hence they rejoyce, they mourn, they weep, they laugh, they look, but they fcarcely fee; all their Movements are fuperficial, they feldom go to the Head of the Spring, rarely ever examine into the true Motive, and throw out either Tears or Smiles, either Joy or Grief; not as they are in Reafon and Reality affected, but as they are infected by Cuftom, and fway'd by Decency. Though, as I told your Divinities before, our Gentleman thinks himself fincerely in earnest, he knows not how to believe that he is fo happy as in a little time he may find. His Lady has left him an undifputed Fortune, Childlefs, and the Reputation of having been a good Husband; no common Merit,. in thefe pretended, reformed, vertuous Times: But whence did that Reputatione arife? Was it from his being really a good Husband, or from her being a Wife fo ex-cellent, that no Husband could be bad to her? If the latter, where then is his Merit? He redoubles his Lamentation!