were not extremely troublesome to my humour, and did not take up more time than a person of my Age can spare. Besides, I have another excuse, which, if I am not mistaken, you will allow of: Essays are seldom Master-pieces; and the Praises I bestow upon the King, being the first true and sincere I ever writ, it can be no wonder I had no better success. As for those you bestow upon me, they are an ingenious Irony, of which rhetorical Figure, I was formerly so great a Master, that the Mareschal of Clerembaut thought no body but my self capable to vie with you in it. You ought not to have employ'd it against a man who has lost the use of it; and who is so entirely your humble servant as I am. You see I am pretty well upon my guard against Ridicule; and yet in spite of all my precautions, I cannot forbear to indulge my self in the praises you give me upon the score of my Taste. 'Tis your interest it shou'd be good, true, and delicate; for the idea of yours, which I always preserve by me, is the rule of mine.
That miracle of Beauty[1] which I formerly saw at Bourbon, is the same miracle of Beauty which I daily see at London. Some additional years have given her more wit, and taken away none of her charms.
Fair Eyes so sweetly charming and divine,
That cause such transports where you shine,
Oh! ne'er to grief your chrystal treasures pay,
Your pearls on grief are thrown away.
Tears from those orbs let no misfortunes move;
So rich a tribute's only due to Love.
- ↑ The Dutchess of Mazarin.
