THE ART OF Pleasing IN CONVERSATION.  
Written by the Famous Abbott Richlieu.  
Translated out of French.  
LONDON, Printed for R. Bentley, in Russel-Street, in Covent Garden. 1691.   

THE PUBLISHER TO THE READER.  
THE Art of Pleasing in Conversation, which is here offered to your Perusal, is a Present well worth your acceptance. You will see the Contents sufficiently make good the Title, and that a Book of this kind will be more useful than (perhaps) you at first imagined.  
Young Persons, who are not yet acquainted with the World, will find here such Directions, as will keep them from committing a thousand Absurdities; and procure 'em the Esteem and Affection of those whose good Opinion they must value.  
The Ladies, I suppose, will not be much displeased to find here Persons of their Sex whose Conversation wants no agreeableness. And the Men may here see the Air and decent Behaviour they must observe among Women of Honour and Virtue.  
It will be needless to say any thing of the manner of this Author's treating so nice a subject; of his great Judgement and Knowledge of the World; seeing this will only the longer withhold the Reader from the Pleasure of a better Entertainment in the Book itself.   

THE CONTENTS.  

Entertainment I. p. 1  
Entertainment II. 16 That one must be civil, yet without falling into incommodious Ceremonies.  
Entertainment III. 41 Of Polite Language, and the manner of telling a Story.  
Entertainment IU 72 Of the Conversation of Ladies, and how far the Complaisance we may have for them will permit us to flatter them.  
Entertainment V. 81 Of decent Behaviour at Table.  
Entertainment VI 95 Against great Talkers.  
Entertainment VII. 114 That it is not possible for a man, who is generally esteemed a Liar, to please in Conversation.  
Entertainment VIII. 129 That a Detractor is generally hated, and that he he cannot please any other than envious and malicious Persons.  
Entertainment IX. 150 How one may insert Commendations in Conversation.  
Entertainment X. 177 That to please in Conversation, one must be discreet, and keep an exact Decorum.  
Entertainment XI. 191 What care must be taken in Raillery.  
Entertainment XII. 221 Of witty Say and Repartees.  
Entertainment XIII. 252 Whether it be fit to reprehend any one in Conversation.  
Entertainment XIV. 266 Of the Air it is fit we should have in Conversation.  
Entertainment XV. 276 Whether it be good to prepare ourselves for common Conversations.  
Entertainment XVI. 286 That to please in Conversation, a man must be Master of his own humour.  
Entertainment XVII. 304 That we must speak reverently of Holy Things.  
Entertainment XVIII. 314 That State Affairs must be discoursed of with great reservedness.  
Entertainment XIX. 327 That to speak justly of the Passions, of Vices and Virtues, we should ordinarily descend from a general discourse into particular distinctions.  
Entertainment XX. 345 After what manner we should tell News.    

THE ART of PLEASING IN Conversation.  

Entertainment I.  
HOW glad I am to see you, my dear Nephew (cried Dorante, in embracing Lisidor) and how farther joyful should I be, could I prove serviceable to you in this Town?  Lisidor. 
You know, Sir, the reason of my coming, was because you was here, and that had it not been for this, those that have the care of me, would never have consented to this journey.  
After these words Dorante made Lisidor enter into an Apartment he had provided for him, and having ordered the Collation to be brought in, he desired him to sit down, and thus continued the discourse.  Dorante. 
I do not at all wonder, you have so greatly desired to come into this Town. All young people desire the same; for one may say, that Paris is not only the Capital of a slourishing Monarchy, but is even respected as the predominant City of all Europe. People come here from all parts, some to polish themselves, others to get Employments, others to see the finest Court in the World, and the greatest King on Earth. However, to be well acquainted with Paris requires time: Strangers are surprised in not finding immediately all the varieties they have been told of it; they seek them, and discover only the least part of them, as long as they see only the Streets and Buildings.  
But how great is their admiration afterwards, when they enter into the Houses, and view the magnificence of the Furniture? If they be admitted into the Company of Persons of wit and merit which at certain hours meet together?  Lisidor. 
I profess, Sir, that I love Paris the more for that reason, and above all things wish I were capable of making one in these Conversations; but I am sensible how unfit I am for it. I want natural parts to second the care you will take of me.  Dorante. 
You have no reason to complain against Nature, you have been better used by her than I expect you will tell me; and were I as able, as she has been favourable to you, my Counsels, and your Talents would make you go very fast and far in the way you desire to enter. However, I doubt not of the success, notwithstanding the smallness of my assistance.  Lisidor. 
I know, Sir, how great a Master you are in the Art I would learn; and all the World knows that your Age, which has yielded you Experience, has taken nothing from you of that agreeableness, which makes the Charms of Conversation.  Dorante. 
As I am naturally complaisant, and that I love company, you may hear something in my commendation, and therefore I shall not by an unfeasonable modesty oppose my Friend's opinion of me, seeing it may make you to receive the advice I am desired to give you with greater relish. It is at your Father's request, Sir, that I have undertaken this Province, who is the dearest of my Relations, and therefore you may easily imagine I shall use my utmost endeavours to satisfy both you and him. I much approve of your design; for nothing is more important in the commerce of life, than to please in Conversation; and if men are born for Society, one may say that it is Conversation which is the Bond of Friendship. But I know not if before we enter into matters which we should treat of, I should not ask you what you understand by the word Conversation?  Lisidor. 
I am not at all displeased, Sir, you ask me this, seeing it will cost you an explication; for I confess, that although I comprehend what a Conversation is, yet I should be perplexed, should you require a proper definition of it.  Dorante. 
I am not at all surprised at what you say; I have seen in the same pain, persons more experienced than you can be at your age. There are a great many distinctions to make hereupon, and every time several persons speak in these Assemblies, they form not what we call Conversation. Obscure Sciences and great Affairs must have a less share in their discourses, than agreeableness and diversion. For in fine, let a man treat gravely of important matters, in a Council of State or War, in a Low-suit or Distemper; where a Physician shall banter you with hard words, and a Lawyer cramp you with Precedents; all this is no more a Conversation, than the Brawling in public disputes, or the Scold of Fish Women.  Lisidor. 
What then, Sir, must there be no mention of Sciences, of the Court, of War, or Politics, in the discourses you mean.  Dorante. 
So far am I from banishing the subjects you speak of, that I affirm they serve to uphold Conversation, and to render it more instructive. The Palace, or pleading places, have now and then such Causes as furnish the best Companies with entertainment. There are great Subornations, contested Marriages, and Divorces, which give occasion to some to Moralise, and to others to utter a thousand witty Reflections. However a man would prove very troublesome, if, to make himself admired, he should enter on particularising an important Subject, and discourse of nothing else all the day long. It is variety which makes any thing agreeable, an air easy and remote from affectation, which is never tiresome; whereas should a man discourse on a sublime Subject with affected expressions, you could not hearken long to him, without falling asleep. Yet great interests, and extraordinary events may find their place in most Conversations; provided they enter naturally, and be treated of with that capacity and modesty they require. Particularly one is assured to please, if there be News wanting, and you be the first that relates a considerable Marriage, the birth of a Prince, the gaining of a Battle, or the taking of a place. Men are generally pleased at the recital of Regulations which relate to the People's welfare, or the beautifying of Towns, and Fortifying of places. Add that we harken with pleasure to one who comes from Court, if she describes a magnificent Entertainment, or a Fashion that is not as yet known in Town. Yet those recitals must not be long, the particulars must only be touched on, wherein the chief of the company may be concerned; and the most important advice I can give you, is to consider always before whom you speak. Without this precaution you'll be in danger of offending Persons whom you would please; and therefore if you will believe me, you will never act the Philosopher before young People, who desire only to talk of Plays and fine Women; neither must you appear severe in a Ball before Ladies, who think of nothing but dancing and diverting themselves. In fine, you must consult Reason, which being your guide, I see few matters, but may be Subjects of Conversation. It's true one ought to speak less of one's self than any thing else. For what can we say of ourselves? We shall make ourselves ridiculous in displaying the good qualities we possess. And can we have the imprudence to publish our defects? or shall we deaden the Entertainment in speaking indifferent and ordinary things of ourselves? Extend this Rule, if you please, to Domestics: An Husband must speak little and modestly of his Wife; a Mother would little divert, should she give an account of the cry of her Children, and the care which the Nurses take of them; we must be no less retentive in citing the saults of our Servants. What matter is it to the Company, if we have a lame Footman, or a slovenly Cook, or a Steward that makes us pay dear for that which he buys cheap? We should always observe what diverts, and what tires; and that it is easier to avoid a fault, than to acquire a perfection: Examine we presently what may render a man troublesome, and we shall soon perceive how to make a Spirit of gaiety and politeness reign in Conversation. You have seen an agreeable representation of these importunate people in the Comedy of the Troublesoms, and I doubt not but you have read the Conversations of a person who is generally esteemed.  Lisidor. 
I have observed with pleasure, in that Comedy, after what sort one becomes troublesome in making long discourses, void of agreeableness, wherein the Company takes no part. I cannot endure that Man who pretends that his Prince should recompense him with a Vessel which he has lost. He tells you, without any man's offer to ask him, the Reasons whereon his pretensions are grounded, and what may be alleged against them, and the replies he can make thereto. He at length names those who built his Ship, and describes all the parts of a Vessel, to show that his was very fine and costly.  Dorante. 
However here is something to be learned in this narration, but what profit can we draw from a dry and tedious genealogy, wherein we are not at all concerned. I am not much interested to know that in a Family which is unknown to me, that Thiband was the Son of Enguerrand, and that Enguerrand had Guy for his Father. I find more diverting that Brave in the Comedy of George Andin, who tells us that one of his Predecessors, named John Giles of Sotenville, had heretofore leave to sell all his Goods to go beyond Sea.  Lisidor. 
I confess these Genealogical recitals are very tiresome; yet methinks not altogether so vexatious as those Relations of tragical Events heaped up one upon another, especially being recounted with a lamentable tone, as if designed to make us bewail all the sad accidents which have happened since the beginning of the world.  Dorante. 
I grant you that nothing is more troublesome than these doleful Relations; but when a man is about making them, you will not, I suppose, advise him to speak facetiously of them. Not that I think it always necessary to accommodate one's Words and Countenance to the Matter treated of. On the contrary, a man cannot more easily raise a fit of laughter, than in relating some pleasant passage with a cold and serious air. There is likewise a certain turn of Language which requires one to speak highly big of mean things, and to give a plain and simple relation of great and noble Subjects. You may easily perceive the Reason, for these latter bear up themselves, and others have need of props. I suppose this is enough for this bout, having given you these general Advices, whereunto I may add, that in all sorts of Entertainments, you must be sure to avoid whatever may savour of For mality and Affectation.  Lisidor. 
I protest, Sir, you have already given me such a clearness of understanding, that if you continue to instruct me, perhaps you will perceive such success, as will hinder you from repenting it.  Dorante. 
I can assure you my counsels will be of little use to you, unless you mix therewith the frequenting of Company, and making close and constant Observations thereupon. The Maxims of the greatest Masters are not of themselves able to make a complete Gentleman: A man becomes not a Painter, but by using the Pencil, how great a Judge soever he may be of good Pieces; and therefore I will not give you any Maxims for the world, unless you intent to see it. These instructions will be fruitless to a Solitary; he can never acquire the facility of using them. The best Precepts and choicest Morals will never take from him the perplexed countenance which he brings from his Desert. They can never take off that dull and melancholy air of his Cell. But on the contrary, we may say that advice gives great Assistance to persons that take care to practise it. An hours reading is more profitable to these, than a whole year can be to contemplative persons who keep always in their Studies. A man must practise immediately as soon as he is furnished with good Rules; and it is useful for a man ever and anon to examine these Precepts, when he enters into Company. This Precaution makes known the faults wherein one may fall; and there are some of such a nature, as to make a man ridiculous for his whole life time, the first time he commits them. So that a man cannot be too much cautioned against them.  Dorante 
had no sooner said these words, but he observed the Collation bringing in, which made him proceed no farther in that discourse. They went both of 'em into a Garden which Dorante had taken care of embellishing. Lisidor viewed the Flowers, a small Fountain, and some Statues; and being afterwards sat down with Dorante in a pleasant Arbour, this last reassumed his discourse, and began this second Entertainment.   

Entertainment II. That one must be civil, yet without falling into incommodious Ceremonies.  Dorante. 
BEfore we reassume our discourse, you are desirous, I suppose, dear Nephew, that we should say something touching the being handsomely clothed before you appear in the Companies wherein I pretend to bring you. I do not think you have made you  before your departure, nor that you esteem your Tailors so, as to prefer them to ours. We will go to morrow morning, if you think fitting, to find out what is most modish and proper for a person of your years and condition. You know we must not neglect the outside. We should always so order it, that the first impressions turn to our advantage, and dispose people the better to relish the Sentiments of our Mind, and the agreeable products of our Fancies. That which does farther contribute to these favourable dispositions, is a certain manner of behaviour and speech that is soft and polished, which gives the name of civil to those who commonly use them.  
You know what are the Qualilities which that which we call Civility requires; and you have observed without doubt, That that of our French, and the Urbanity of the Ancient Romans, draw their original from two words which signify City and Villa. And we almost ever see that the persons who have been brought up in Cities, have an handsome behaviour opposite to that which we call Rusticity in Country People.  Lisidor. 
If you please, Sir, tell me in what manner one may practise this civility, and wherein it consists?  Dorante. 
The most important Rule which I would give in this matter, were I fit to be consulted, should be, that a man who would gain on affections, should carry tokens of modesty in his countenance and behaviour. He cannot draw envy, unless he appears possessed in a good opinion of himself; and on the contrary, he cannot but be pleasing to Company, if, instead of appearing fierce and positive, he gives them marks of esteem and submission.  
I would have one also to observe exactly a decent behaviour, according to the Sex, Age, and Quality of the person you converse with, with regard likewise both to time and place. In effect, a Lady would be but little charming, should she appear with the blustering mien of a Soldier; neither would a Captain look well, if he affected to speak soft and sine, like a Sir Courtly Nice; and an old man would be ridiculous, should he look on his toes, and ever and anon throw back the locks of his Peruke, like a young Beau of eighteen. Now to come to another kind of men; would you speak to a great Prelate, or to a grave Magistrate, with as mimic an air as to a Chamber-fellow in the Academy? We must allow that Decency requires that we not only behave ourselves respectfully with persons of a distinct Rank, but even not so much as to speak of them in any manner which savours of equality. I do not believe that a person who has been of the Retinue of an Ambassador in his Travels, will be so ridiculous as to say in his ordinary discourse, When my Lord the Duke d'Estreé and I went to Rome together; Yet there are People, who speaking to a great Lord, observe so little distance as to say; You remember, Sir, what befell us when we set out for Lions; whereas they should have mentioned only the Lord's name, and barely have said, When my Lord Duke d'Estreé went to Rome; and at to the second expression, When your Lordship parted.  
I do not tell you that there are an infinite number of other Rules to be followed by a man that would appear like a Gentleman. You know that we must not only give the right hand and the wall to persons of Quality, but likewise yield them generally whatever seems most commodious. Your own Reason will show you what is fitting in these matters, without my advice. However it is good to use most of these little Maxims with an address so much the greater in that it must not be perceived.  
All must appear natural in a Gentleman, and nothing must savour of Art and Affectation.  
I might moreover insert some one of these precepts in our Entertainments: Should I collect them all at present, you would be perhaps disgusted at them. Let us first consider those which are to be observed in entering into Company. When you go to see a person of a Rank above yours, you know, without doubt, that it is to use too much familiarity, to enter with your Coach or Chair into the Court of his house. Civility requires we come out of them to enter on foot, unless the Porter, by his Master's order, opens the great Gate, and entreats you to enter more commodiously. If you be not known, and your name be asked, you are only barely to mention it, without adding thereto your Title of Marquis, or Sir John. You likewise are not to be taught, that when we find the Chamber door fastened, it's not civil to knock loudly with your stick, but rather softly with your knuckles, or scratching the door. This fashion came from the doors of the Lovure, and is now gotten to those of the Ministers and Grandees of the Court, and I doubt not but it will get by degrees to all houses where there is any Quality. But when a man first presents himself, commonly he whose office is to introduce persons, takes care of levelling these little difficulties.  Lisidor. 
However there is one, for when we find persons already at the door, or there come any before it be opened, Civility requires one to withdraw, to let them first enter who came before us, and offer the door even unto those who came after, if they appear to be persons of any Consideration. However this does 〈◊〉 me from my perplexity; 〈◊〉 I be not known to those 〈…〉; how far am I obliged to 〈◊〉 my Civility, or, to 〈◊〉, this kind of Coremony?  Dorante. 
There is on the Countenance, and Behaviour, certain Characters which may make us guests at the Condition of persons; and which determines us to treat them with more or less Civility, according as our Conjectures shall direct us. But when a man that wants experience, and penetration, finds himself in the uncertainty you speak of, he must take the furest side, which is, to pay more respects than we think are due, seeing it is better that people who are not worthy of 'em, should be obliged to us for 'em, than to expose ourselves to disoblige persons who me rit more Civility than we have paid them. Yet we must not fall into those Ceremonies which were so incommodious in the former Court. They have been long since banished, and we can hardly believe men should make it an Art to torture themselves and others.  Lisidor. 
I know, Sir, there was never any Comedy more pleasant than was one of those Contests whereon they fell every time two or three met at a Gate. I have heard say, that they added strange contentions to their compliments; that they stepped back, to advance again immediately, and to push forwards with violence towards the passage, those persons to whom they would give place.  Dorante. 
The eloquent expressions which were studied, and spoke with great deliberation, were no less ridiculous than the postures they made; and methinks I see a Viscount and a Baron of those times thus contesting it with one another.  The Viscount. 
No, no, Sir; say and do what you will, I'll pass no farther, and stir no more from hence, than London-Bridge does to White-Hall.  The Baron. 
And for my part, Sir, let one word be as good as a thousand, I will not enter; I'll as soon lie here all night in this corner, where the knowledge of your merit has made me withdraw. In fine, Sir, I protest if it lay in the power of my wishes, I would choose rather to dwell eternally here, than to suffer your civility to supplant my duty.  The Viscount. 
No mention of duty, good Sir, for that belongs to me; and were there another judge than your modesty to decide our disserences, I should ●●on gain my cause. Fie on this modesty, it is not equitable enough to be our Arbitrator, she will take what is due from you, and give me that which does not belong to me. I hope she will be sooner tired than your Reason; and you must yield to me, in permitting me to yield to you.  The Baron. 
However I shall do nothing, unless you command me to do any thing.  The Viscount. 
Well then I command you; That I may obey you.  The Baron. 
In this case, my obedience will excuse my fault; and I may now say, that we shall go in procession; where the principals march the last.  
The peace had no soorer ended this conflict, but at a new door new phrases and new strive.  Lisidor. 
I think the young people happy in being born in a time wherein they are delivered from these tiresome fashions: But, Sir, ●●y whence came they, and how came they to be received in a Country, where franchisement has given the name to the Nation therein established?  Dorante. 
It's true, one would wonder how we could relish them, for the French are too mercurial to remain whole hours in a state of complementing. But the Italians on the contrary, more patiented and more at leisure, and of more pliable spirits, perhaps have introduced this manner among us. However the famous Monsieur de la Care tells us, that the Ceremonies passed from Spain to Italy; but supposing this were true; and that the Spaniards have taken them from the Moors of Grenad, as well as their gallantry, yet I must still believe, that they rather come from Italy than from any other Nation. I have ever imagined that the Italians have made a kind of Art of them, and heep as it were a Register of them, which one may term their Ceremonial.  Lisidor. 
I suppose the word Ceremony is not ancient; and that it may have come from that given to respectful actions which Church men make use of to denote the honour they give to God, or to holy things.  Dorante. 
I am of the same opinion as you: We have extended in process of time the signification of this term. It has been thought fit to apply it to the Reverences which men make to one another, in bowing down; in uncovering the head; and by accompanying these actions with an 100 other grimaces, the more to testify our submission. This Custom is but the shadow of what it was, and it is well for us it is so.  
However it is not so much abased, but that it endeavours to raise up its head. But those persons as know the world, retrench all these superfluities, and observe only what decency requires. Hereby they fall not into fruitless excesses of words, and submissions, which are seldom taken for sincere. And therefore they be commonly used to flatter in appearance, such persons as we do in effect despise.  
To proceed farther; all these Ceremonies, and these Protestations of Amity, would not only be looked upon as so many dissimulations, but one might look upon them as Crimes and Treacheries; if those terms, which are at every turn used, had not lost their first validity through long custom. But we are wont no longer to take these words in a strict sense. We see every day people embrace one another, kiss, and make a thousand offers, as if they were the best Friends in the world; and who, a moment afterwards acknowledge, without hesitation, that they scarce knew one another. However we must follow this Custom, instead of attempting to change it. It is less our fault than the fault of our age; and all that wise people can do, is, to use it with moderation and diseretion. When all the world falls into a fault, no body can be blamed; and how extravagant soever a mode may be, a man would yet be still more extravagent, if he refused to comply with it. Should he alone offer to withstand the general consent of his Country. Let us grant therefore, that there are Ceremonies of duty from which we cannot fairly excuse ourselves, but offend persons who will imagine we pay 'em not their deuce. So that the authority of Custom may do all things in point of Ceremony; and therefore it must be regarded as a kind of Law. Let not a man examine whether this Law be good or bad, it is sufficient it has obtained, whereby we are obliged to obey it; and therefore it's necessary to know after what manner we should carry ourselves, and what terms we should use in receiving visits, how to return them, and to salute according to the Custom of the Country. Great is the variety of expression in these rencounters: Among us Civility requires we should use the plural in speaking to a single person; perhaps to signify to him, that we esteem him as much as many others.  
Addressing ourselves to a person of ordinary rank, yet we accost him with, I pray you, Sir; whereas the ancient Romans said, I pray thee. Which way of speaking is still amongst some Nations. The Turks, who are so submissive to their Sovereigns, whose mean Slaves they term themselves, yet use these kind of expressions when they speak to him, If thy Highness commands it, etc. And heretofore in Spain, Amirante used the word thou in speaking to the King of Arragon; and we see that the Subjects of most Princes, speak in a quite different manner; Amirante followed the Custom of his Country, and we ought to obey the Custom of ours.  Lisidor. 
I have observed in a Relation of the Court of Spain, that there is still practised a thing very strange, which is, That a Lover who finds his Mistress in the Queen's presence, may entertain her with the same liberty which he might elsewhere. Nay, he takes that of being covered, without offence; his passion excuses all; it must be supposed to be too violent to permit him to think of good manners. The more faults it makes him commit, the more it appears obliging to the person he loves.  Dorante. 
I know not whether you have observed in the same Book one thing which is no less surprising. Which is, That the young Gentleman who make love to the Queen's Maids, send them openly dishes of meat, and without any scruple, at every meal. But we shall go too far, should we examine the difference there is betweenourmanner of carriage and those of other Nations. Let it content us in saying that among us we must salute persons, accost them, or receive them in the manner in use. A French man who would scruple to say, I am your most humble Servant, because he felt in his Soul that there was no such thing, would pass for a ridiculous Misanthropes. Men do not take these words strictly; and we commonly use them without thinking on what they signify; and whatever harshness there is in them, it is softened by long Custom. The exactest probity permits us to use them, and when a man asks me how I do, I may answer, That I am in good health, and ready to do him service; without being obliged to attend him at that very moment; and follow him to his house like his Servant.  
That which Reason enjoins us in these occasions, is, to use distinctions in the Civilities which decency obliges us to pay. We must have regard to the age and the condition of persons, and the state wherein they are; and if we find them sick or busy, the more ceremonies we use, the more incommodious we make ourselves. We must cut short, and show our sentiments, rather by some respectful Action, than by tedious Compliments. This proceeding shows that we know the world, and he that shall do otherwise, will pass for an imprudent person. Moreover our civilities ought to be different according to the difference of places and Persons. We see in the Palace Royal a politeness not to be met with in St. Dennis-street; and in St. Dennis-street we hear not the quodlibers with which the Lawyers offend our ears. The Officers of an Army, nor Magistrates do not love we should 〈◊〉 'em lose time in fruitless 〈◊〉 ●●●nies; and a great Lord would not much relish the compliments made him by a Tradesman, no more than a Master would be pleased with his Servants offers of service to him.  Lisidor. 
It seems that the instruction I may draw hence, is, That in matter of Ceremonies, we must be neither sparing nor prodigal. If we make too few, we may pass for uncivil; and we become troublesome, if we fall into the contrary extreme.  Dorante. 
In the difficulty there is of observing always a just Medium, I think we should do 〈◊〉, if Ceremonies were entirely suppressed, our Fathers passed well enough without them, and so should we likewise; but it is a contagious Distemper which our Neighbours have introduced among us as well as others. We cannot, as I have already said, be dispensed from being subject to them. It's true, we must never pass the bounds prescribed by Custom. This were to proceed to such a Superfluity as Reason forbids, and which Persons will not endure that hate to be said with smoke and appearances.  Lisidor. 
Although Men take pleasure to receive Respects, yet they would be without doubt disgusted at those paid them that savoured of Design or Artisice. I suppose likewise that excessive praises cannot please. Those who give them us, have a strange opinion of us. They take us for vain or credulous Persons, and easy to be deceived.  Dorante. 
I now told you, that Persons of great leisure made more Ceremonies than People who are busied: So that you will not be surprised, when you shall see Ladies, knowing enough in this Art, to read Lessons to others. They make Reverences to certain Persons, Smiles to others, and make their Servants keep an exact Register of the different Seats they must offer, high and low Seats, Chairs with and without Arms.  
Dorante had no sooner ended these words, but he was interrupted by the noise of a Coach which entered into his Court. Here's Erastus, said he, with joy. You have heard he is the dearest of my Friends; for you know all my concerns, as well as I know yours. And therefore have I not asked you any Nows of your Family. As for Esastus, notwithstanding the inequality there is in our Age, yet we are, I say, the best Friends in the World. You'll see a man of excellent humour, and I can assure you he will be no small help to you in the Companies whereinto you will go with him.  Lisidor. 
But how know you so precisely that it is Erastus?  Dorante. 
Because he enters without any notice given me, and it is only he that claims that privilege of me.  
Immediately Erastus appeared at the Garden-door, and, addressing himself to Dorante, said: Reckon not (said he to him) this visit made to you, it is wholly to Lisidor; suffer me to embrace him, and to demand his Friendship. In ending these words he addressed himself to the young Gentleman, who had advanced towards him; and having held him some small time in his Arms, they spoke both of them in few words what Civility requires at a first interview. I doubt not, said Erastus, but that you were on some agreeable matter of Conversation, pray take it up again, I need it to cure me of the headache, which a very different Entertainment has given me; I prepare myself to hearken to you.  Dorante. 
How, to hearken? You shall speak more than we, if you please; and therein we shall find our advantage.  Erastus. 
I know how I shall find mine; I come to sup with Lisidor, I shall leave him as little as possible; and if it be not fair that I should take him from you to night; I hope you'll not deny me that happiness to morrow; for he shall dine with me then.  Dorante. 
Not so hasty, good Sir, when my Nephew knows that your House is a kind of polished Court, he will not be in such haste to go thither: Judge a little, Lisidor, arriving from one end of the Kingdom to Paris, the first time, whether you find yourself presently in a condition to visit a Lady whose wit and beauty— At these words Erastus interrupting Dorante: Do not believe him (said he to Lisidor) he has perhaps his Reasons to hinder you from seeing my Wife; but she will be revenged on him, and will come and see you; let's talk no more of it; it's a thing agreed; think only of renewing the Conversation which I have so unseasonably interrupted.  Dorante. 
We were discoursing of the Ceremonies which Custom may approve, and of those which are incommodious, and of the ridiculous Compliments which heretofore attended them.  Erastus. 
I would willingly hear how you have condemned these Ceremonies and these Compliments: But instead of continuing to make Remarks on these defects, I had rather you would tell me, how one may speak agreeably.  Dorante. 
Another than myself would tell you that one must speak like you; but is it just you should expect this sweetness from a man you come from offending? I also see you pretend to edge me on; and engage me to make a discourse wherein I shall find more difficulty than you imagine. It's true, that I shall not be alone in the perplexity; if I be hard put to it in treating of this matter, you will have no less trouble in harkening to me.   

Entertainment III. Of polite Language, and the manner of telling a Story.  Dorante. 
IT seems that the most important Maxim is, To take care of the Subject of Conversation, and to choose requisite thoughts and expressions. We must lay aside whatever may seem light or trifling when we should be serious. Neither must we affect to appear Philosophers, where the company are all disposed to be free and cheerful. A man that would prove any thing by undeniable arguments, would not much divert young Ladies, whom the only word Argument is enough to scare out of their wits. Others moreover would please less, if to show themselves unseasonable wits, they set upon retailing jokes before Persons in affliction. As to the choice of words, we must observe what is in use and approved of by able and refined Persons; as when we dress ourselves, we cannot do better, than to apply ourselves to the Modes which Gentlemen of the best fancies do follow.  Erastus. 
I read yesterday that it is no less ridiculous to make use of words that are obsolete, than to wear Steeple-crowned Hats, although these words may be brought in pleasantly enough in Raillery.  Dorante. 
You may have observed in the same Book, that if Prudence requires we should omit words which are no longer in use; she forbids us likewise to hunt after terms which the Ear is not accustomed to. We must leave these Novelties to young People, seeing they affect them, and that Boldness is natural to them.  Lisidor. 
But must not a Language, that loses words on one hand, not only recover them on the other, but also enrich itself?  Dorante. 
I grant it; but it is not every body's Province to enrich it; it belongs to learned and refined Persons to bring in new words; as it belongs to Persons of the Court, that are well made, Richest, and of the best Fancies, to invent Fashions for .  
However it is not enough to have chosen words which use approves. We must prefer those which are properest to give the Idea of things which we would express; we ought also to seek with care words which please the Ear, and which have Sweetness, or Magnificence, according as the Matters require. As for Quibbles, Puns, and fulsome Jokes, we should leave them to the common People, as being suitable only to men of their Rank.  Lisidor. 
I would willingly know why figurative Expressions are more graceful than others, and how they make up the Ornament of a Discourse?  Dorante. 
We may say they affect more, because we are less accustomed to them, but especially because they attribute more to things whereto they are joined, than do the Proper and Natural Terms. They even enliven that which is inanimate. I could cite an infinite number of Examples: You hear Men say every day; What a sad Place is this old Castle; How I love this Meadow! How every thing smiles there!  Erastus. 
For my part, I am for an Irony, and an Hyperbole; these are my two Favourites; and I have an hundred times observed the Conversation would be asleep, did not these two Figures ever anon keep it waking. Had Dorante ever so little wit, or learning, he would do me the greatest pleasure in the World in discoursing of them.  Lisider. 
Methinks you cannot more pleasingly begin this discourse, but by this Example of an Irony.  Dorante. 
Do not you see that Erastus imagines he can disengage himself, by thus smoothing me up; but he is mistaken, for I shall not quit him thus. He must entertain us on this Subject. I am sure he is a perfect Master of it, seeing these two Figures are so dear to him; and that he is a man not apt to fall in love where he is not well acquainted.  Erastus. 
As to an Irony I am willing to say all I can on that Subject, but I'll warrant you I shall take heed of speaking of the Hyperbole; for there port is among the Wits, that you married her, when she was in mourning for Mounsieur de Balsac her first Husband. So that it belongs to you to inform us of her good Qualities: For I will not believe my Friend's Wife has any bad ones.  Dorante. 
I confess, that to do me honour, two or three of my Friends have said that I had a strict Union with the Widow of this Illustrious deceased; but you may have observed, that if my Conversation shows she pleases me; I appeared less affected in what I wrote. However seeing you are pleased that I should entertain you about her, I will do it, and instead of respecting her as my Wife, I shall only consider her as a Figure, to the end you may love her without any scruple.  
An Hyperbole has commonly only excessive expressions, she augments or distinguishes things in excess; but if it be permitted her to go beyond the bounds of Truth, yet she must never pass those of resemblance to truth. You know how I have treated of this elsewhere; and Lisider, not having seen the passage I speak of, I need only repeat what the Idea which I still retain will furnish me with. I cannot forget a bold stroke I gave, which perhaps will never be pardoned me.  
I said that Virgil went too far, when he set forth the lightness of Camilla; and that I knew not whether in so great a Poem, one might make a Princess run over the tops of Corn without bending them, and over the waves of the Sea, without wetting the soles of her Feet. These are in truth glistering expressions, but I think 'em not so well placed in a serious stile, as they would be in a light Poem.  
There are also Authors, who think they carry not their Exageration far enough, if they do not heap Hyperbole upon Hyperbole. Now although there are infinite Hyperboles in the Writings of witty men, who are pleased to sport ingeniously with them, yet we must not think this Figure ought to be only used in raillery, and that it cannot well be seen in the most serious matters. One of our Authors praising Cardinal Richlieu, addresses himself to him in these Terms, in an Epistile Dedicatory.  
But my Lord, as there was heretofore a Valiant Man who could not receive any wounds, but on the scars of those he had already received, so you cannot be praised, but by Repetitions; seeing that truth, which hath its bounds, has said for you, whatever falsehood, which knows none, has invented for others.  
I may add, that Hyperboles make a great impression in a Tragical Subject. This Monster having not sufficiently glutted his Cruelty; and being not satisfied with the Rivers of Blood, which he made run down this desolate City, put all to Fire and Sword before him. He foamed with Rage, and his Eyes more ardent and dismal than two Comets, etc.  
But before we end, methinks we should not forget Voiture, who is so full of agreeable Hyperboles. Have you not observed, How many Towns he discovers, which are in no Maps? How many Mountains, which Geographers know nothing of? How many Terras incognitas; and how many Rivers, and Seas, which the World never before heard of. He ingenuously confesses in another Letter, that he makes use of the Figure we speak of: He makes the description of a Feast, and says, if I be not mistaken, That the Sky appeared on Fire, that all the places round about shined like Stars, and that it seemed as if the whole Universe was turning into a flame. He afterwards coldly adds, that these are 3 Hyperboles, which reduced to their just value, are just worth nothing.  
I know not, Erastus, whether what I now said satisfies you: You, I say, to whom the Hyperbole was so familiar before you had espoused Cleonice. Perhaps you have not as yet forgot how you set this Figure at work, when you came to find me, to impart to me your Joy, or relate to me your Griess. It is not above six Months since, That one minute without seeing Cleonice, was an Age of Trouble to you; and I am certain, that if you could entertain her an Age, you would look on this Age but as a Moment.  Erastus. 
I confess in those days I made more often use of the Hyperbole, than the Irony; but seeing I find myself at present in a calmer condition, I should be more disposed to Gaiety than the Figure requires, which you would have me speak of. You know better than I, what a great relish she yields to Raillery, and I believe that Lisider is not to be taught that an Irony consists in learning neatly to be understood, the contrary of what we say. I saw yesterday at a Lady of Quality's a Marquis who this day was to set out for his Province, where he goes to confine himself. He came to Paris on occasion of a Lawsuit, and I believe he returns less out of humour for having parted with a great deal of money to Solicitors, and Lawyers, than to have remained three or four Months from his Seat and his Farms. He took a great delight in recounting how he busied himself in the Country; and being my near Kinsman, I could no more suffer what he said, than his manner of living. A Lady of the Company took notice of the Pain I was in, and represented to the Marquis. That in France a Person of Quality thought it more becoming him to serve in the Wars, than to amuse himself in feeding Ducks and Pigeons. Our Country Gentleman smiled, and shown by his answer. That he pitied those Persons that served in the Wars. I could not then forbear speaking, and directing my discourse to this Lady, My Lord has reason (said I to her a little roughly) and I assure you that the Corde's, the Turenn's, and the Crequis, are to be blamed for not following his Example. Their lives would have been Glorious far from Armies; whereas they determined to spend them in beating their Enemies, gaining Battles, and taking Cities. I know not what they thought in embracing a profession which so greatly lessens their Memory. It's true they had the mishap of not consulting a Wit so solid as that of my Lord the Marquis. I uttered these words with a serious Air, the Company smiled, and my Kinsman lost his Countenance, and could not get it again all the Dinner time.  
I do not doubt but Lisidor knows, That we comprehend the sense of an Irony, either by a tone of Pronunciation which discovers that we are not in earnest, or by the apparent opposition there is between the words and the thing spoken of. It was by this last means that I was understood; for they saw nothing but what was serious in my Discourse and on my Countenance. But seeing that you have cited Authors, methinks it is lawful for me to say, That an Irony glisters throughout all the Works of Voiture and Saracen. You are not surprised at this, but I am, in seeing in Malherbe's Letters a Raillery ingeniously turned, which I may take for a kind of rony. I was so content with several passages of this famous Author's Rhyme, that I dared not read his Prose, so greatly was I afraid of losing the Esteem I would preserve for him. Lisidor will not be displeased in hearing how ingeniously Malherbe relates the News of the Siege of Veruë.  
The Spaniards are always before Veruë, it's a place that is a little more worth than Chaliot; but is far from being so good as Lagny. However the Duke de Feria lies starving there with cold, notwithstanding the Dog-days. The Marshal de Crequi has lodged himself between the Besieged and the Besiegers, and does wonders, according as he is wont. If you ask me what I expect, I believe that the Spaniards will see the Steeples and Chimneys of this Town; but as for the Streets of it, they must get their notices of them in the Map. I would advise them, if they pretend still to the Universal Monarchy, either that they would proceed more quick in their work, or beg of Heaven to put a stop to the end of the World, that they may have time enough to finish it, etc.  
I shall not expatiate any longer on this matter; I find it large, and I like it; I am afraid lest it should carry me too far.  Dorante. 
You ought not to have the same fear of the Antithesis. I have ever heard you say, That you could not endure it. However, the opposition of words and thoughts, may give great lustre to a discourse. But I am of your mind, that he that uses this Figure, must be an Enemy to all Affectation, and not so much consult the sporting with Words, as the uttering good Sense.  Erastus. 
Let us leave here these Matters; for they require too great Application, and I am for diverting the Conversation.  Lisider. 
I demand Quarter for the description. It is agreeable, it renders the Assembly attentive, and I see nothing more necessary than to know how to paint well the things we would represent. We may find ourselves every moment obliged to make use of this Figure; sometimes in describing a pleasant Prospect, a fine House; otherwhiles a Ship wrack or a Battle. Especially if I came from seeing a Stranger of great Quality, or a beautiful Princess lately arrived, and I were asked what I thought of one, and the other, should not I be glad to make a Portraiture of them so like, as might place before their eyes the Persons I would speak of.  Erastus. 
What you say makes without doubt the principal Beauty of what one relates; but here is in what Terms Dorante has explained himself in one of his Books touching Portraitures, which every one undertakes to draw after his Fancy. There are a great many People who set forth their Friends; There are others who set forth themselves, and who ratail out their Defects and their Virtues, without concerning themselves at what the public will judge of them. In fine, every body takes the Pencil in hand; but I know not whether there be many Apelles 's among this great number of Painters. Yet it is certain, that a Mediocrity is not excusable in these sort of works, for labouring therein less through necessity, than for Ornament, every thing should glister therein, and nothing should appear languishing. One may describe or make a Recital in two different manners; The first Natural, Simple, and Succinct; The other more Extensive and Flourishing. If the dispute be touching the waters of a River, as to the right which may be pretended for the watering of Meadows, or turning of Mills; a man need only relate precisely the circumstances, which may serve to give light into the dispute. But if I speak not of this River, but to describe a delicate place, I may then expatiate, and say, That it's Crystal waters wind themselves about a delightful Valley, either to water it in the more places, or to show that they are pleased with it, and leave it with regret. It is in these occasions that Poetry may triumph, provided she uses, with a lively Fancy, and a solid Judgement, the privilege she has of showing herself bolder, and less reserved than in Prose. And therefore, in this last manner of making a description, or a recital, I should forget none of the Circumstances which may give any relish to what I undertook to recount. If it were an History, or some adventure of those great Fables which have diverted our Nation, under the name of Romance, I would endeavour to point my Hero's in a most exact manner. Those who were to hear me representing them, should make, if I may so say, such a kind of acquaintance with them, as would engage them to hearken to me, and induce them at the same time to take part in whatever regards the Persons I should entertain them with.  Lisidor. 
I assure you, that in reading the works of Calprénéde, I have always interested myself in whatever happened to his Hero's and Ladies; and when I saw in Faramond all those Kings.  Dorante. 
Perhaps you saw too many of them. The Author, you speak of, has gathered together as many on the banks of the Rhine, as the Marquis d'Vrfé did Shepherds on the banks of Lignon: However you may easily judge there are something fewer Kings than Shepherds, yet we may justify Calprénéde in some sort. The Romances he set forth were like Epic Poems in Prose. They had more of the Illiad and Aenead than the Theagenes and Astrea. Moreover the Age of Faramond permitted him to mention those great number of Sovereigns. It was after the death of the great Theodosius; and as his Children succeeded not in his Valour, and that they weakened the Empire in sharing it, so an infinite number of Barbarous Nations took that time to settle themselves in better Countries than their own. These Nations marched under Leaders who were Kings, or to whom one might give this Title, which Homer has so prodigally bestowed on so many Greeks. As for the Characters, I confess they are a little too uniform in the writings of Calprénéde. We find none therein but brave and fierce Blades; whereas there should be variety, to give relish to a Recital, and to render it more probable.  Erastus. 
I believe likewise we are obliged to observe a greater resemblance to truth in what we invent, than in the true Facts which we mix with some adventure: for we commonly believe what is true; and when it should not be believed, by reason of its little resemblance, we shall not be Vouchers, as in things which come from us.  Dorante. 
It seems to me, that to make things probable; besides the truths which we ought dextrously to insert, it is good to set forth Persons such as they should be, to execute what we make them undertake. As for a bold Action, we should describe a strong man, brought up in the Wars, of an assured Countenance, and a grim Aspect. But if I may again speak of the Expressions which we should use, I would say they must be Natural, without Flatness, a kind of Nobleness and Elevation in them; according as the matters require, but nothing flatulent or forced. A man should banish Equivocal Terms and Transpositions, and use only Parentheses through Necessity and with Judgement; and retrench all those Circumstances which serve neither to instruct nor delight.  Erastus. 
Speaking freely, as we do in these matters, we may add something as to the choice of words. It is not enough to use those which are properest to give the Idea of what we would represent, we must also know the Terms which belong to Arts, whether our Recital relates to matters concerning Painting or Sculpture, War or Navigation.  
This Remark brings to my remembrance a brisk Answer which an Officer of our Fleet made to a young Gentleman of this Town, who made one Campaign on his Vessel. The Parisian walking one night on the Bridge to take the Air, Pray, Sir, says he, let's be gone, the wind is very high etc. Sir, says the Officer, know that for a Seaman to say, The wind is very high, is a very great absurdity, seeing the term is; It is foul, or hard weather.  
Although we must use terms proper to Arts, yet it is not necessary to be so scrupulous as a Physician of my acquaintance was the other day. Having called to him a Chirurgeon who was in the Sick man's Chamber: You must not fail, says he, to Phlebotomise the Gentleman to morrow morning. I will never suffer it, (cried out the Sick man in a fright) and I am not, continued he, in so bad a condition to have recourse to so dreadful an operation. The Chirurgeon replying immediately thereupon (that he might not lose his little profit,) Sir, said he to the sick Gentleman, be not troubled, the Doctor only order a bleeding. Ah for bleeding, replied he, I matter it little, but for the rest, I will as soon die as endure it.  Dorante. 
Do you think it enough to have spoken of words which signify precisely what we have to say, or which are proper to Arts? Is it not also fitting to find Terms which may neatly enclose the things which we would have understood, and which modesty will not permit us to express openly? Should I not do better in saying, There is a secret Correspondence between the Marquis of— and the Countess of— than to explain myself too grossly on the manner of their Commerce? It is also sitting in these occasions to heed the tone of the voice, and certain smiles, which may make us too well understood, and transgress those polished manners which a well-bred man should never forget.  
I find likewise that there are expressions which Gentlemen should use when there happens some contest between them. If any one should make me repeat some circumstance of a Recital, and he should tell me he did not hear me. I would not answer him; That it is your fault, not mine; I speak clai● enough, but I cannot make myself be heard when I am not harkened to. Politeness requires softer terms, Perhaps, Sir, I am mistaken; let's see, if you please, whether I did not say that, etc. Civility likewise requires that we make not too vehement reproaches, nor too precise, whenever one has failed of his word given. So that instead of complaining against one, that has not performed his promise, I should choose to say; That I hoped he would do it; but that I supposed he either forgot his promise, or met with more difficulty in the thing than he foresaw.  Erastus. 
Can you suffer a man who domineers in Conversation, who continually talks, or criticises with the tone of a Master whatever others say?  Dorante. 
I find this more intolerable than People who deign not to speak, and who seem to testify, by a slighting silence, that it is not in such company as this, where they will utter what they know.  Erastus. 
I know some who are for appearing too knowing: I saw one the other day who perplexed himself in speaking with a Stranger the Language of his Country; and having not sufficiently studied it to use it freely, he fell into such confusion, as gave great trouble to one part of the Company, and set the other a laughing, according as they were differently inclined.  Lisidor. 
This is commonly the fault of young people: but they commit a far greater, when they laugh at a Stranger who does not speak our Language well; or run down in his presence the Vices of his Nation.  Dorante. 
Neither ought one to scoff at certain defects before persons who have the like; and likewise a polished man does not directly praise the persons to whom he speaks. He does it delicately; whereas people, that know not the world, give praises with so little address, and with so great excess, that they perplex and put to the blush those they think to oblige. Whereunto we may add, That a man who excels in his profession, must not presently speak of it; and when he does, it must be with great modesty, and when the Conversation turns on that hinge.  
In fine, There are several things requisite to form this Politeness, which makes the chief agreeableness of Conversation. And there needs no fewer to make a recital which may draw the attention, and please, and even (as it were) enchant those who harken to it. Besides what 〈◊〉 have said touching the choice, 〈◊〉 placing of words, beauty of expressions, and lively descriptions to be inserted; it is necessary there should be novelty, or something marvellous in what we recount; that we should have ready in our memories, not only the main of the story, but also the names of persons and places lest we hesitate in searching them.  
There are Authors, who find it advantageous to make a relation of a Person known by the defect we reprehend: as of a covetous man known by his Covetousness. I acknowledge, that those who harken have more pleasure, when we cite a person of their acquaintance, because they represent him such as he is; but I should always choose to be less diverting, and more civil, and deny myself and others that pleasure, than to disoblige any one. So that it is better to invent names for the Persons who are to be concerned in a Recital, and even to lay the Scene of the adventure in another Town, than where we dwell.  
Dorante could not continue his Discourse: One came to speak with Erastus, and told him that a young Sister of Cleonice was just arrived.  Erastus. 
Ah, Dorante, this haps very well, Lisidor and Lindamire arrive both of them the same day at Paris. There is without doubt an assignation or destiny in this affair: However we have reason to rejoice at it; the world already praises the growing charms of my Sister-in Law; and if Lisider and Lindamire come to be smitten with one another, the desire of Pleasing will do more in their hearts, than all our Remonstrances can make impressions on their minds: We shall soon see a change; they will have a better Air, more Sweetness and Complaisance; and I profess I much wish it, for the advantage of Lindamire.  Dorante. 
You know that which Lisidor will find.  Erastus. 
Adieu; I expect him to morrow at Dinner, bring him to me; and seeing he must be new Rigged as well as Lindamire, Cleonice will take care of both. She has good Skill in choosing Stuffs, as you have in giving good advice.  
Erastus' departed in ending these words, and Dorante and Lisidor walked till they had notice Supper was served in.   

Entertainment iv Of the Conversation of Ladies, and how far the Complaisance we may have for them will permit us to flatter them.  
DOrante and Lisider had no sooner supped, but the first began the discourse in this manner. We cannot be excused from going to morrow to Erastus; but although I use freedom with him, yet we will discourse to night of certain polished and respectful manners with which it is fit to appear before Ladies. You know, without doubt, that nothing makes a young Gentleman so much valued, as the approbation of a Lady of merit; and that nothing more hinders Persons of your Age from falling into irregularities, than the visiting Persons whose sentiments incline ordinarily to Virtue. In the mean time, speak we of the precautions it is necessary you be furnished with for this visit; and let me begin by an advice which perhaps you little expect, which is on the manner of making an honour. You are persuaded, without doubt, That your dancing Master has omitted nothing he aught to tell you hereupon: and I am likewise willing to believe you salute with a better grace than he that taught you to salute. I know that most Masters are too formal in these matters; They bow down, and raise themselves up by rule only. Every thing is starched in them, all savours of Art, and searcely have they ended their Reverence, but they seem to promise the beginning of a Courant or Minuet. Persons of Quality on the contrary, salute with a better Air, and in a more natural manner. If you feel still any kind of constraint, you must get rid of it as soon as you can, and give to your countenance and action all requisite liberty. Remember then, if you please, That we must always endeavour to do with a good grace what may draw the first respects of Persons we address ourselves to. Nothing afterwards renders us more agreeable than Complaisance: It is this which makes up the Charms of Society; without it we must neither expect friendship among men, nor a diverting Conversation in Company, nor any part at play, or in a walk, or any other diversion. But when I say we must be complaisant, I do not mean, That base and servile Complaisance which Juvenal attributes to certain Greeks of his time, who made their Court at Rome. It must be acknowledged, says he, that this Nation is very comical. Do you say it is hot, they wipe the Sweat off their Forehead. Do you complain it is cold; they call for their furred Gown. There are then several complaisances which one must not have. It is not lawful to betray our sentiments in essential things, nor to favour Vice in any occasion whatever. One may show the respect we have for great persons and Ladies, but we must never show them a Complaisance which may be prejudicial to them. They will no sooner perceive it, but they will hate and despise us.  Lisidor. 
I conceive that Complaisance is good in a thousand particulars, and that no Conversation could be kept up long without it. However I know not whether Conversation would not die, if Complaisance reigned too absolutely in a Company, and every body willed the same thing; whereas it becomes lively and instructive, as soon as an ingenious debate encourages us to maintain different opinions. So that I would willingly know in what bounds one may include a commendable Complaisance, imagining that it consists in a Medrum, between two vicious extremes, like other Virtues.  Dorante. 
We may without fear of being blamed, prefer, through Complaisance, one pleasure to another, as play before walking, and of Plays the choice of that which shall best please the person for whom we have a deference. However our Complaisance must not turn to our notable prejudice, nor be prejudicial to persons for whom we must not have so much Complaisance, as to play at a play which a Person of great Quality may like, without any Skill in it, seeing our Complaisance might be suspected of Interest. It will be generous, if we know not so well the Game as the Person of Quality who engages us to play; however we must never expose ourselves to the undergoing a loss, which may incommode us; for this last Complaisance will be liable to be ridiculed.  
The best effect of Complaisance is to make us endure the weaknesses of a Friend, and not to yield to anger when he is disordered by it. Far from provoking him, by earnestly withstanding what he desires, we should immediately seem to yield to him, and oppose only sentiments full of sweetness to the violence of his passion. But there are several Complaisances which I can never approve of: We may observe one, which may be called Universal, which makes men say, Yes, to all sorts of things, without distinction; and this appears to me to be such a sorry humour, That I should like better to be sharply contested with.  
I find no less incommodious that which the Citizens have one for another. It is ordinarily attended with long Compliments, and never-ending Ceremonies.  Lisidor. 
The Complaisances you mention, may displease; but they deceive no body; whereas those of the Court serve commonly only to make one take self measures. A great Lord promises all, and a quarter of an hour after, he does not so much as remember that he made any promise. So that all we get by these fair words, is the vexation of renouncing the hopes we were made to conceive.  Dorante. 
The Complaisance which one has for backbiters is yet more pernicious; for this is a sacrificing those who are absent, and the upholding a vice which all generous Persons detest. I find this Complaisance so mean, so criminal, that I think it needless to say any thing more against it; being persuaded you can never be capable of saling into it. Let us rather return to the Subject which has cast us on this matter, and let us say, That the Complaisance which we ought to have for Ladies has bounds large enough. You know that men are weak, but with respect which we own to women: we may say they are yet weaker, and more credulous than we. As they are ordinarily prepossessed with a good opinion of themselves, so they like those who flatter this self-love, and cannot bear with any body that shall disabuse them. A solid Friend who should undertake to open their eyes, will soon be cast off for a Friend; and I have sound it more than once, That they put a sincere Person on very vexatious Trials. Not that I would be so scrupulous to contradict them in matters of small moment. On the contrary, I would give to the defects which they might have, the Names of the Virtues which come nearest them: I would call Covetousness, Frugality: I would commend in a lean Lady the liberty of her Shape: and I would endeavour to commend the ample Corpulency of Madam Bouv●lle (a great fat Woman in Searron 's Comical Romance) by saying she was in good plight. Sometimes one must declare himself smitten with the golden colour of Red, otherwhiles with the Brown, and Black, all being to be commended, according to the Companies wherein a man shall find himself. If it be permitted to have this flattering Complaisance for Ladies, you judge you must not sail to practise, when with them, the precept of never speaking of a defect before Persons who may have the like. To speak all in two words, let's say in general, That to be complaisant, it is good to consult the countenance and humour of the Person whom we would please, and that we do in such a manner conform ourselves thereto, that she may not doubt of the part we take in what concerns her.  
I think we have talked enough of these matters for to day: it is late, and you have need of rest.   

Entertainment V Of decent behaviour at Table.  
THE next morning, Dorante and Lisidor walked out together to pay their devoirs of Piety, which ought to be never omitted in the beginning of the day. Scarce were they returned from Church, but Dorante turned himself to Lisidor, saying, I know that Erastus keeps a very good Table, but you are young, and they always dine late where women are, and therefore let's advise you to take a Breakfast.  
After that Lisidor had followed Dorante's Counsel; this last reassumed the discourse in these terms. Although I am certain that Cleonice will excuse your faults, if you commit any, however it will not be amiss to give you some little advices which respect the Table. This matter, perhaps, may not appear to you very important: yet is it not permitted a Gentleman to be ignorant. You know that amongst civilised Nations, there were ever diverting or instructive Conversations at Festivals. The Banquet of the seven Wisemen, and the Table-Talk in Plutarch, do sufficiently show it. But perhaps you will not believe me, when I shall tell you that our Fathers, maugre the ignorance of their time, respected the Tables of great Lords, as Assemblies wherein was much to be learned. A Proverb of those times makes me judge as much: [Good Table, a good School.]  Lisidor. 
To ascend higher, and to come up to the Ancients; besides what the works you have cited do discover to us; we may conjecture that at the Table of great Persons the Conversation made one part of the Regale. In effect, the Parasites, for to be there suffered, were not contented in being complaisant even to the meanest flatteries, but they studied likewise to say something witty, to divert those who surnished the Feast.  Dorante. 
I agree with you in what you say; but must tell you farther, that these Parasites were more contemptible than diverting. Their profession was to be pleasant; and you know what we have already said, That nothing can be pleasing where there appears affectation. But let us leave these Wretches, and return to the little advices which I am willing to give you.  
Being to dine at a Friend's, I make no mention to you of certain Ceremonies touching washing with Persons of great Rank. He must be very ignorant of the world, who shall draw near to the Basin at the same time a Prince or great man shall dine in the same company. You must stay till he entreats you to advance, or by taking you by the hand, or by some sign denoting he intends you this honour. Then you are to show, by a respectful bowing of the body, that it is only out of obedience to his commands that you offer to wash with him; but if in washing at Erastus', the Servants come not immediately to take the Towel, Civility requires you hold it till the Officer be present, or Erastus himself takes it out of your hands. It is his part not to suffer you in this posture. You may stay till Cleonice places you; but I believe it will be more neat for you to place yourself at the lower end of the Table, to avoid Ceremonies. Have you never reflected on the different ways used in these occasions?  Lisidor. 
I have observed it an hundred times in my life, though I am not very old. I have seen people cast their eyes greedily on the meat, as it were to devour it before they came to it; and scarce were they sat down, but they snatched up what they liked. They reached over their hands into the farthest dishes, without minding whether they ought to stretch their arms over other meats, and before Persons to whom they owed respect. I have also observed, that in the beginning of the repast, there are some who bend themselves over their Plates, as it were, to keep them in their sight, or to eat there with their eyes, what they cannot hand up quick enough to their mouths. These are a sort of people who bow continually, who excite others to eat and drink, and who endeavour to change the mirth of a Feast into fury. They put all into disorder; they imagine to bring greater honour to the treat, and the more trouble and confusion they cause, the more they think the Master of the house is obliged to them. I have known others, who disdain to make use of Spoons and Forks, as much as if they were not made for their use: Their knuckles are indifferently in every dish, and by this means they quickly make their Fingers and Napkins loathsome to the sight of the Company.  Dorante. 
Seeing you have made these little Observations, and that it is chief the things which regard an Entertainment that we have chosen to examine: I will tell you, That at Treats men commonly fall into two contrary faults, which are equally to be avoided; which is to praise with excess the dishes before you, or to say nothing at all, but look coldly on the delicacies and abundance of a Feast. By the first defect a man shows himself little accustomed to good Tables, or too greedy of the good cheer; and by the other, he seems to despise whatever obligations the Master of the Feast intends to lay on him. Neither would I have a man to speak with great earnestness of the meats he loves best, or those which he cannot endure, there are certain affected relishes, which are only tolerable in women.  Lisidor. 
I imagine likewise that it is a great indiscretion, not to appear content with the manner of seasoning certain dishes. One cannot find fault, without provoking the Master of the house against his Servants, and making him threaten the turning them away, and putting him all the time out of humour; and the whole Company into a mournful silence.  Dorante. 
I am very glad you have made this remark, it will hinder you from appearing uneasy, and passionate against your people, whenever you make an Entertainment. I hope too you will not fall into a fault which I think an intolerable one in Gentlemen; which is to drink hard yourself, or make others do it. Do you judge whether these excesses are agreeable to the politeness we discourse of, and whether a man whose reason is drowned in Wine, can have an agreeable Conversation? Is it not a shame to make it a point of Honour, to empty more Bottles than the rest of the Company, without considering that in this ridiculous contest, the gallantest man of the Court, cannot exce● a Porter or Carman? You know the Lacedæmonians took a particular care to inspire an aversion to Drunkenness. They exposed their Slaves full of Wine to the sight of their Children, and found nothing more likely to make this intemperance odious, than the sidelong steps, the extravagancies, and nauseous belches whereto Drunkenness subjects us. Let not any one tell me, that a man is willing to show that he has a strong head: It is in other sort of occasions we should give Proof of that; and not weaken our heads when all that is required of us is only to be cheerful, and observe moderation. Let's draw a consequence which relates to our subject, and affirm that a Conversation cannot be agreeable during a repast, nor immediately after, if we introduce excessive drinking, and a tumultuous noise.  
Derante could say no more, Erastus came and carried him together with Lisidor to his house; where they found a lovely woman called Belise, a near Kinswoman of Cleonice: Lisidor was received by these Ladies with all the marks of Friendship, and it was observable that he saluted young Lindamire with some emotion on his countenance: however gay this Company was, yet no jocose remarks was made thereupon, lest he should be put out of Countenance as well as Lindamire: On the contrary, Erastus turned the discourse on another Subject, and spoke to Dorante with his wont facetiousness.  Erastus. 
You see what care I have taken to content you. We are six, which is just what needs: you told me the other day; That at Table the number should never exceed that of the Muses, nor be under the number of the Graces, and now here we are equally distant from one and the other.  Cleonice. 
We shall come nearer the number of the Muses than you are ware of, Belise expects Philemon who is to come from Versailles; and word is left at his house to send him as soon as he comes home.  Dorante. 
I am very glad of it; it is near eight days since I saw him.  Belise. 
I question whether he will come this morning, seeing he is not already arrived: but let's talk of the two numbers about which Erastus seems to be so precise.  Dorante. 
I said it was the fancy of an Ancient; not to be well pleased at a Banquet, where there was more than nine persons, nor in another where there was less than three. Let Erastus now joke if he will, provided the rest of the Company 〈◊〉 he has reason; for my part I cannot see it easy to avoid consusion, where so many persons eat together; and we observe on the other hand, that when there is but two at Table the Conversation often flags, for want of Variety. I refer myself to Cleonice if you—  Erastus. 
Pray, Sir, excuse me; I'll not part with my right so.  Dorante. 
It is certain, that a Gentleman of your age, that disputes against me that am very young, should not expect the Ladies to be very favourable to him.  Erastus. 
No mention of Ages, I entreat you: I confess I am younger than you, but you know I am married.  Cleonice. 
He has reason.  
Whilst they were smiling at these passages; Philemon entered; and Belise, affecting to appear a little astonished, made him this kind of reproach  Belise. 
How happens it that you come when I did not expect you; I flattered myself with the thoughts of being without an husband at this Regale?  Philemon. 
Before I answer you, I must salute an amiable Person, who pleases me as much; as a young Gentleman, whom I shall afterwards embrace, can be agreeable to you.  
After these words, he offered to Lind●mire and Lisidor all the crudities usual in these occasions: and Cleonice in a low voice bidding Dinner to be brought in, the Company sat down, and Philemon reassumed the discourse.  Philemon. 
I had been here an hour sooner, had not my misfortune brought to me the greatest Babbler that ever was. He fell upon the news of Hungary, and the Morea; and not contented to retail out the Progress of the Imperialists and Venetians, he has extended their Conquests according to his humour. He has made two or three Treaties of Peace, which he has broken. He has elevated to the Throne five or six Bassa's, in their Governments; and in fine, regulated the affairs of the two Empires, without my so much as once opening my mouth; being willing to let the discourse fall, and be gone.   

Entertainment VI Against great Talkers.  
I Find nothing more troublesome than a man that always talks, who hears no body but himself, and interrupts those who begin to speak, as if they usurped a privilege which belonged only to him. It is very difficult for such a one to speak things weighty enough to draw the attention of the auditory, and to express them in a pleasing exactness.  Erastus. 
Some men indeed cannot bear with these great praters. However, as for my part, I shift well enough with them; for without troubling myself with harkening to them, or speaking in my turn, I think on my own affairs, and leave the field open to 'em.  Cleonice. 
You can then excuse these Troublesomes, who hinder able People from entertaining the company to better purpose.  Erastus. 
I am very glad, Madam, That for the interest of your Sex, you undertake to impose silence on ours; and indeed it is not to be expected that men should speak much, seeing there are women in the world.  Cleonice. 
I am perhaps less a woman in this matter, than you think I am; and I profess sincerely, that a prating Gossip is the more intolerable. Women have commonly their minds less cultivated than men. They speak fewer things with more words, and leave a greater Vacuum in a discourse. To prove this, I need only tell you what a Chagrin I had at a visit I received yesterday; it was Arpalice that gave it me. She entered into my Chamber, with a languishing Air, and complained immediately of an oppression at her Stomach, which she said filled her with boding apprehensions; so that, continued she, you'll pardon a poor infirm Creature, who is forbid to speak, if she endeavours to testify to you the joy she has to see young Lindamire is truly worthy to be your Sister. I protest, adds she again, that it is only in this occasion that I am glad to dispense with a silence, which I take pleasure in observing in every other Rencounter.  
I am far from the humour of those women who will talk on continually; when there's one that gins a discourse, the rest of the company must be silent till night; but, in sine, what can she 〈◊〉 of all this while▪ would it not be better to take breath a little, and let others have their turns? When she has showed her Petticoat, and made the colour be approved of, what matter is it to the Company that she bought the Stuff at the Crown or Blackamore's head, That this Stuff has cost 4 Guineas more, or 4 less than the just Price. Must this prating Gossip show her Commode, and make the Company guess what it cost, and where she bought it? How happy am I who have been never tempted to prejudice my health by much speaking and to deafen the Assembly. I had rather go into a Cloister than to be troublesome as these everlasting Praters are, Dorince, Arcinoe, Bellamire, Armasia, and Cleonne: You know they gave the headache from morning till night to those who have the mishap to meet with them in Company. Where do they gather up all this trash? For among us, they are no more knowing than an infinite of women who talk less. Should one forbid them to speak of their Accoutrements; you reduce them to a profound silence. As to myself, were I minded to entertain you of these things, I would desire you to take notice of the Gown I have now on, which I may say, without vanity, is the finest in Paris. Pray observe it, view it well; The more you observe it, the better you'll like it. It was gazed at with admiration yesterday at the Princess'; the Duchess of Mazarine took Coach immediately to buy the rest of the Piece, and the Marchioness of Carnarvan was greatly afflicted 'twas all gone. I'll not tell you it cost me a Farthing more or less than it really did; I leave these Foolcries to Parthenissa, and Melinta. Is it not strange women should be so vain in these occasions; for my part I will not say this Stuff cost me so dear as Berenice would say it cost her; This woman is 'straught extravagant in these matters. Does she think to draw more esteem, by having it imagined, that her Petticoat cost more than another's? Has she not reason to apprehend on the contrary, that she will pass for a Fool, in giving more for things than their value? Neither would I have you, Madam, to imagine that I am about to tell you my Gown stood me in less than it was worth; No, no, I pretend not to set up for a great housewife, thereby to get an husband. I have one already that I would be loath to part with. You cannot imagine how complaisant he is to me, he brings me home ever and anon a thousand knick-knacks; There can be no Opera, but I must be at it; and the same it is for walks; and I do not remember that for two years we have been together, that he once spoke of my Conduct, but to approve it. It is true, I give him no cause; I never bring home any of those Gallants, or Vagabond Sparks, that walk from Street to Street, casting up their Foppish Countenances at every Window, and now and then step and strut, like a Crow in a gutter, who never want fine say for all Complexions. Perhaps it may be judged I am not handsome enough to attract them; but I see on the contrary every day a thousand homely Pugs who have no more charms than I, and yet are continually surrounded with crowds of Idolisers. I dare scarce add, what I was told yesterday at the Princess Demaratas, whom I lately mentioned to you. However I was almost as much out of order then as I am now, and you know with what disadventage a woman is looked upon then. Yet a certain Spark would needs persuade me I was the finest woman.  
I thought I had now a good opportunity of speaking, imagining Arpalise would not refuse to hear me in the occasion she offered me of praising her. Yet she interrupted me at the first word I began to speak, and continued on talking till night, with that rapidity, that I had not so much as time to thank her for her visit. At length I had a deliverance, but I heard her tongue run all the way she went down Stairs, ask my Servants questions, and answering them herself, and I cannot tell but she she may be yet talking whilst I am relating this to you.  Dorante. 
Here's the most pleasant satire that can be made of a prating Gossip; I have heard it with no small satisfaction, although it hinders me from complaining of the vexatious hours I have had from these everlasting talkers; for what can one say after Cleonice?  Erastus. 
I fancy she puts upon us, and makes Arpalise speak thus, only that she might have occasion to speak much herself.  Cleonice. 
To speak the truth freely, you deserve no less than that I should become as talkative as you accuse me to be. However I'll refer my revenge to Arpalice, whereby you shall know what it is to affront a woman.  Erastus. 
O ho, You would fright me would you; know that I am not so easily scared; let this Torrent of words wherewith you have threatened come, I have prepared a Dike, wherein Arpalice will not find her Reckoning. If she entertain me about her Coiffing, I'll talk to her about my Hat, and with that quickness of speech, and will suffer myself to be so little interrupted, that I shall not fear her attacks the second time.  Cleonice. 
But what can you—  Erastus. 
I'll tell her I bought my Hat on London-Bridge. I'll tell her how this Bridge is built on woolsacks, in what King's Reign it was built. I'll tell her how many Arches it stands upon—  Belise. 
But—  Erastus. 
Do you think, Madam, I'll stop here on this Bridge, no I'll be hanged first; I'll travel out of sight immediately; I'll pass over into America, Dialogue with the wild Indian who trucked the Skin of the Castor whose hair was mixed with the wool of which my Hat was made; I'll recount what trinkets were given in exchange for the Castor's Skin; and afterwards fall on the several Commodities which go off well at America.  Philemon. 
This is something—  Erastus. 
I'll insist on the two parts of this new World Northern and Southern; I'll forget none of the great Rivers, nor golden Mines, nor Rocks, nor Mountains; whereunto I will add a Philosophical description of the Fruits, Trees, Flowers, Plants, and Animals of the several Islands.  Dorante. 
Proceed.  Erastus. 
I'll embark my Castor Skin on a Vessel, I'll raise a storm against this poor Ship; I'll make a large and most Poetical description of this Tempest; I'll represent the Vessel as the Tennis-Ball of the Northern blasts and Southern too as most irreconciliable Enemies▪ But do you think I can forget our old friend Christopher Columbus the first discoverer, and Americ Vespuce who gave his name to this great Country. I will make the first come to the Court of France, where he shall be received as a Dreamer; I'll carry him afterwards over into Spain, where Ferdinand and Isabel give him a favourable hearing; I will recount the famous Marriage which united so many Kingdoms in joining Arragon to Castille; and if I must accompany these Recitals with considerable revolutions, Mariana whom I have lately read, will supply me with matter.  Belise. 
Pray be not so confident with your Mariana; these Historical Events will sooner end than the prattles of these Gossips.  Erastus. 
Pray, Madam, you do not observe I have a Feather in my Hat; Cannot I coast Africa whence we have our Plumes, and passing by Tunis, can I forget Carthage? Let a whole dozen of Gossips come after this, I'll in serious tones set forth to 'em the famous War of the too stately sRepublicks who contended for the Empire of the Universe; I'll cite the Scipio's, Fabius', Flaminius', Marcellus', Emilius', Varro's. Hamilcar's, Hannibal's, the Syphax, and Massinisses. If my Companions dare open their mouths. I'll ascend to the foundation of Carthage; recount the amours of Dido; and if this will not do, I'll have a Virgil ready which I will read in a sad Tone before my Arpalises, to the last Verse of his Aeneads.  Cleonice. 
That which I approve of best in your Rhapsody, is, that you mix a great deal of true History among your Bantering.  Dorante. 
A man must deal in this manner with this sort of People, to make 'em more ridiculous.  Philemon. 
These kind of Folks in their relations heap up a thousand circumstances which relate no more to their subject, than the foundation of Carthage to Erastus' Hat and Feather.  Belise. 
It is strange to me people should take so great delight in prating: for without doubt these Persons are not senseless, and it is the vivacity of spirit which transports them beyond the matter they treat of: Whence is it then, that this same vivacity does not show them that they trouble those who hear them, and disturb even those who do not hearken to 'em?  Philemon. 
They are like those Horses who see nothing during the swiftness of their course; who pass the bounds of their career, and who stop not till they are beyond it, in running their heads against a wall which beats them backwards.  Cleonice. 
I believe there are few of these Animals that are so fierce; whereas one half of the World consists of great talkers.  Dorante. 
If this were so, the other half would find itself very unhappy, and I know not what you would have it do.  Cleonice. 
It need only hold its peace.  Philemon. 
This is like receiving several blows in a Combat, and returning none: However, Madam, I dare believe that there are great talkers, who in several occasions imagine they have a real kindness for us, and are many times punctual in their promises.  Erastus. 
For my part. I love a woman better that should speak a little too much, than a man that should not speak enough. But I had like to have forgot to tell you, that we have left our young Folks a great while in silence, they have not opened their mouths, for fear of falling into the fault we now reprehended; I would fain therefore hear what Lisidor will say on this Subject.  Lisidor. 
That in a Company as this is, he ought to hear much and speak little.  Erastus. 
I know not whether this answer be as wise as it seems to be: For young people must speak to acquire the facility of speaking; and they can not where better make cryal, than before their Friends, who will make it a matter of duty to correct them: But seeing I have spoken sententiously, I must proceed and interrogate Lindamire. How comes it, that being witty, young, and gay, you have said nothing? were there but three Persons of your humour in this Chamber, the discourse would quickly be at an end.  Lindamire. 
I can assure you, Sir, it is not I that would keep it up; though to speak again it should cost you a second Voyage to America.  Dorante. 
Very well hit, for a Girl of fourteen; we come to see Lindamire, and we find another Cleonice.  
No sooner was this said, but the person Dorante named saw the Dishes bringing up, and being moreover very glad to break off a discourse which might tend to her praise; she reassumed the discourse in these terms.  Cleonice. 
Methinks for people who blame great talkers, we have enlarged enough in this Conversation.  Belise. 
Before we end it, I would declare the instruction which a certain Lady not far, has made me draw hence, which is, that to be never accused of speaking much, one should speak as she does; and one had need only to see her often, to accustom one's self to speak little, through the pleasure a body may have in harkening to her.  Erastus. 
It is yourself, Madam, who now spoke too much, and you are now about being recompensed for your flattery. The Lady perhaps whom you would have us to understand, will be far from applying it to herself; and to punish you again in another sort, I believe she will make you but very ill cheer.  
At these words the company arose, Dorante gave his hand to Belise, Philemon to Cleonice, and Lisidor his to the young Lindamire. They withdrew into a little Parlour, where they washed without Ceremony, and after the same manner sat down at Table. Although this was only a treat for Friends, yet every thing was proper and neat: Scarce had they dined, when they returned into Cleonice's Chamber, where they sat down, and talked only of indifferent things, till Erastus began to speak to enliven the Conversation.  Erastus. 
Lindamire will perhaps be astonished if she hears me speak again without setting forth for America, where she would again send me. So long a Voyage does not seem to me absolutely necessary, for the reassuming of the discourse we left off. I need only tell you, that among the defects of great talkers, we have not, I think, made any mention of Lying, which yet is the Vice wherewith such persons are commonly repreached.   

Entertainment VII. That it is not possible for a man who is generally esteemed a Liar to please in Conversation.  Dorante. 
Erastus' has thought of a thing, which we ought very willingly to examine, seeing it regards no less the main businesses of life, as all manner of Conversation.  Cleonice. 
Before we enter on so considerable a matter, I would entreat you to tell me punctually what it is to lie. It appears to me at first to be very easy to comprehend; however I believe the matter will admit of many distinctions, and I would very gladly learn them.  Dorante. 
Seeing you would have me undertake this task, I will tell you, Madam, that we lie as oft as we betray our sentiments, and that our words do not agree with our thoughts. Thus I may add slandering to lying; should I say that Timocrates basely ran away in a Fight, wherein yet I saw him behave himself most valiantly. But I know not whether you will not be surprised, when I shall show you, that one may lie in telling the truth. Chance sometimes makes a thing to happen which at first seems strange. Let us, if you please, suppose I give you a visit in a time when your affairs oblige you to go out, and that as soon as I have left you, you go forth in effect, without my knowing it. I meet immediately after with Theagenes; he asks me if you are at home, and through a humour, which you shall call what you please, I answer, you are just gone out. Thus in speaking the truth, I speak against my own thoughts, which tell me you are still in the room where I left you.  Erastus. 
I believe I do not find all my reckoning in this example, and that you may well give another.  Cleonice. 
Neither was it for you that it was given, no more interruptions, and do not enter where you are not called. Continue, if you please, Dorante, and tell me whether I am to blame, when I imagine that the whole world is full of Liars.  Dorante. 
You are not at all mistaken, one part of men use all their industry to deceive the other, and to disguise the truth; in War, Craft, Ambuscadoes, false Marches, false Alarms, and false Attacks, are Proofs of it; and if these Artifices are employed in a profession wherein is seen so much generosity; what is there not practised in others?  Philemon. 
I am persuaded there is ever something that is mean and low in lying and dissimulation. There have been great Captains who would never have recourse to Stratagems, they would win a Victory, not steal one.  Dorante. 
I confess this is a generous Sentiment, and it is observable, that only weak Animals endeavour to supply by craft, the defects of strength, which Nature has not given them.  Erastus. 
If Cleonice will give me leave to speak when Dorante has done, I would say, that if there be any sincerity in the world, it is to be found among Ambassadors.  Belise. 
But Ambassadors may, without scruple, disguise the truth. Having received their instructions, it is not permitted them not to follow 'em; th●● would be to betray their Master, and to fall into an unpardonable Crime.  Philemon. 
What may we not say of Lovers? They lie continually in the protestations they make; and their Mistresses are no less dextrous at dissimulations: In fine, they torment themselves, they groan, they die; and yet are scarcely got out of their Mistress' sight, but they make a party in the divertisement with the first friend they meet.  Belise. 
These light words you speak of are so common, that they cannot be condemned as lies, when there is no design mixed with them of deceiving: A Lady who hears her eyes praised, or her mouth, looks on this piece of Gallantry, only as a gaiety of Fancy which Custom has authorised. But what Liars should we not find, should we run through the different professions of men, from the highest to the lowest?  Cleonice. 
We should have too much to speak of, should we enter on each particular; and if on the other hand we should examine the falsities wherewith the Arts deceive our Senses, either agreeably, or with horror.  Erastus. 
We are not now to moralise on the Vices of men, nor on the Marvels of the Optic: We treat only of Conversation, and it is sufficient to show, that a Liar cannot please in a serious Entertainment.  Dorante. 
We are agreed that we would have such a one be silent, for we are soon weary of hearing what we do not believe. We so greatly love truth, that those who never speak it, are very willing that others should not disguise it from them; and I believe there are only Romances and Poetry, wherein fiction can divert. And here a resemblance to truth is required; and a relation that wants it, would not draw much attention. So when a man has a design to pl●●●● by his discourse he should mix, methinks, a Character of sincerity to the agreeableness of his expressions and behaviour. It is hereby that a discourse pleases and insinuates itself; on the contrary, we hear with uneasiness (as I said before) what we do not believe.  Philemon. 
But how will you distinguish an effective sincerity, from that which is only so in appearances? You know that they are ordinarily only persons of wit who dissemble; and you cannot doubt but they use all their Art to disguise the truth.  Dorante. 
I confess they are more capable of dissembling than your gross dull people; and therefore it is we see less sincerity at Court than in the Country; and we see a subtilised sort of People in a Neighbouring State whose words are not greatly relied on. However, it is not impossible to make the distinction you speak of, provided a man has a piercing and discerning judgement. A man that would appear sincere, without being so in effect, does oftentimes discover himself, even by the care he takes to conceal himself. He forgets nothing to attain his ends, but it is not so hard as you imagine to perceive certain efforts he makes to persuade. The earnestness which he shows, and the turn which he gives to his expressions are observable. Frankness guides itself in a direct contrary manner, it tends plainly where it would go: It has a more open Air, appears in the eyes, in the gesture, and all the countenance. In stead of having recourse to Ornaments of Language, it rejects them as fruitless, it is an enemy of ostentation, and neglects the appearing wholly and fully what it is. It speaks without Art, and with Confidence, and yet never fails of making a soft impression. Whereas scarce have we perceived the artifices of a dissembling Person; but so far are we from being pleased in hearing him, that we are at defiance with him, as imagining he is always ready to deceive us. An ingenious carriage produces different essects, it agreeably insinuates itself and according to the intentions it may have, it sets our hearts at rest, or moves our affections.  Belise. 
However it is to be considered how far sincerity should proceed; for I find nothing so ridiculous in Conversation, nor nothing more incommodious in the occasions of life, than for a man to speak whatever comes into his head.  Dorante. 
You know, Madam, that sincerity has its bounds, as well as all other Virtues, and I do not think we are obliged to imitate the simplicity of a Country Lover, who declared his passion in a manner which I think was very pleasant. He swore to his Mistress that he was desperately in love with her, and yet he could not consent to marry her. How, said she in a rage, can you pretend you find me such a one as you like, and yet not willing we should spend our days together. To speak ingenuously, replied he, I can love you as my Friend, but I am of the humour of my Father, who would never marry.  Erastus. 
Though he declared himself very ingenuously a Bastard, yet he hurt thereby no body but himself, whereas there are simplicities which perplex a whole company. And of this I have an instance in the beginning of the last month, when the Court was at Fontain-Bleau. We were together in the Country, Timante and I, and we visited in our journey honest Merigenes, to whose politeness and capacity I suppose you are no stranger. Cleonice seemed shy of travelling with two men, and therefore took one of her Friends along with her, called Melicerte. I cannot tell whether you know her, but I can truly say, that if she be not handsome, she is young and witty. She was of so an agreeable humour the first night we supped at Merigenes', that the good man showed himself really smitten with her, and addressing himself on a sudden to Timante, I wonder, said he to him, you should reckon Melicerte homely, I find you but a bad judge of Beauty, and I'll never trust you in these matters again.  
Consider, I pray you, into what confusion this simplicity cast us. Timante did what he could to repair the fault he had committed in speaking, without doubt, too freely to a person of Merigenes' humour. Remember more punctually my words, answered he, I told you that Melicerte was a very amiable person, and yet the charms of her face were not wholly comparable to the excellency of her humour. Acknowledge, Timante, (replied Melicerte endeavouring to smile) That you are less sincere now, than you was when you spoke of me before, and yield that Merigenes is incomparably more than you. It is true, Madam, (replied immediately the honest man) you do me justice; I protest I always speak what I think is the truth. I perceive it, said she with a cold Air, and being not able to dissemble her resentment. I began to talk, to turn the discourse on another subject. My endeavours were vain, a solid peace could not be made, and the end of the Feast answered not the beginning.  Dorante. 
I saw Merigenes some days after, and found him as knowing, as he appeared to you dissimulative. He is as excellent a Geographer as he who looked for Democracy in the Map, because we therein find Dalmatia. In entertaining ourselves on the conquests of the Imperialists, and those of the Venetians, we pleased ourselves in enlarging on the commendations of the Morea, that ancient Peloponése where was the famous Lacedemonia, which the Modern Misistra does but imperfectly represent. Merigenes was ravished at the great success we mentioned; and in the transports, which made him lift up his eyes to Heaven, he interrupted us to tell us, he could not believe the Country of the Moors was so good as we made it. He began again to speak very pertinently when we entered into the particular relation of what was done in Hungary, he much wondered the Turks should build the most famous Bridges in the world. That of Essek, said he, must needs be a very great and strong one, seeing two great Armies have long since fought to get and keep possession of it. Yet I cannot imagine it is comparable to Pont-Euxin, for it is not above four or five years that I hear talk of that of Essek, but I have heard all my life time, admirable relations of the other. We could not forbear smiling at the exact Geography of Merigenes, and we better informed him in the sequel, lest the resemblance of names should make him confound again such different things.  Cleonice. 
I am very glad this Conversation is ended, for you know that Belise and I are to go and choose Stuffs for Lisidor and Lindamire.  Erastus. 
I think it were fit your Servants should eat their Dinners before they put their Horses in the Coach; you have time enough.  Cleonice. 
Choose then another subject of discourse, in speaking against Liars we are insensibly brought to detraction.  Belise. 
There is no body has more aversion to detraction than I have; however I believe there's no harm in making little Recitals for Diversion, provided we wrong not the reputation of people: Do you think you wrong Arpalise, in saying she talks much? Why may you not call a woman a great talker? Do you not every day say, that the Crow is Black, and that a Swan is White?  Erastus. 
If what Belise now said satisfies you not, we are ready to speak against detraction.  Cleonice. 
You cannot do me a greater pleasure.   

Entertainment VIII. That a Detractor is generally bated, and that he cannot please any other than envious and malicious Persons.  Philemon. 
I Wonder there are so many Detractors. All the world hates them, they are respected as sierce Beasts; they are feared, and yet we do not avoid them, as we eat Tigers and Panthers. It is they on the contrary who shine most in Companies, they are harkened to, and even applauded, whether out of fear of provoking them, or that men are naturally pleased with Detraction.  Erastus. 
I should be sooner surprised, at their being driven out of Sicieties, Let's not flatter ourselves, most men had rather hear four Satyrs than one Panegyric.  Cleonice. 
You have a strange opinion of Mankind; if what you say were true, there would be a great many Misanthropos' in the world.  Dorante. 
And indeed there are more than you think, but they better disguise their sentiments, than Timon of Athens did heretofore, and the Alcestus of Moliere at Paris now.  Cleonice. 
But whence can proceed so malicious an inclination?  Dorante. 
From self love. If we have defects, and we are sensible of them; we are pleased in hearing there are greater than ours: If on the contrary, we can sufficiently flatter ourselves, to believe we have great Virtues, we have the satisfaction of seeing that we are lifted up above the people whose faults are related to us.  Belise. 
Do not you find that the most dangerous Detractor is, he that gins by praises; seeing by this Artifice he may persuade he speaks sincerely, and without aversion.  Philemon. 
What you say brings to my remembrance an adventure, which diverted the other day a great company at the Prince's Demaratas; they seemed to be astonished there should be such a strict tie of friendship between Celanire, to whom one may give thirty years, without being too liberal; and Dorinice, who has never yet seen eighteen. However, there was no doubt made but each might find his reckoning in this Society; it was said that Celanire, being less virtuous than she appeared to be, found no disrelish in sharing in the voluptuousness of a young person, whom Lovers and pleasures every where attended. That Dorinice on her side might receive good advice from an experienced friend; and even that she might veil her wanton Air under the pretended modesty of Celanire. Scarce were these words ended when Celanire entered, and a while after was told, that they had been just taking of the friendship she had for Dorinice. I am not the only person that loves her, replied she; it must be allowed she appears very amiable, when one does not throughly examine her. It may be truly said she has a delicate Complexion, and fire in her eyes; but I think she seems too affected in her carriage, and too greedy of applause. I love her sincerely, I wish she would lay aside those little humours, and endeavour as much to get reputation as new admirers; I would not be thought to admire her defects; for we had like to have broke off for the Gown she has worn for these four days. The Stuff is so rich, and so remarkable, that every one will judge that Timocrates bought it. I was not wanting in advertising Dorinice of it; I told her what was whispered abroad of it, and that this report might become more public, and probably it might be added, that a woman who accepts of presents, will grant favours. Dorinice appeared to me surprised; and answered me, that Timocrates was not so well at ease as was imagined, and that instead of making presents, he was scarce able to satisfy his Creditors; that she had much ado to get an hundred Guineas of him which she had won at Basset, even before this play was forbid; that, in short, she was forced to make him take up this Stuff on credit to pay her. That, as to the rest, she never made it her study to shut people's mouths. That she knew very well Calumny spared no body; and that to have one's mind at rest, it was sufficient that one had nothing to reproach one's self withal. I made show as if I believed what she said, and I replied coldly to her; Th●● I wished the world was convinced of the truth of what she now told me. And thus did Celanire testify the sincere respects she had for Dorinice; and as if it had been a decree of Fate that we should see the end of the Comedy; Celanire was no sooner gone from Demaratas, but Dorinice entered, set forth in the magnificent Gown so much discoursed of. Every body set forth the richness of the Stuff, some praised it sincerely, others added roguishly, that what they liked it best for, was, that Dorinice had not put her hand in her Purse for it. At least, pursued Dorilas, if we may believe what Celanire now told us. I know not (replied Dorinice colouring) what she may be pleased to say, but I suppose she has said no harm of me. But if any spark of Envy has induced her to pour venom in her relations, I could utter such truths as would not be very advantageous to her. Dorilas, whose humour you know would not let pass this occasion of diverting us, and pretending to be in the interests of Dorinice, whom he thought fit to edge on; I know not (said he with a feigned ingenuity) whether Celanire has a good way of setting off her Friends; however, I must say, she has no good way of covering their defects. Why should she come with her circumstances, the relations of which we never called for; what are we concerned with her Timocrates, that she should bring him into a relation, when the discourse was only about a Gown or Petticoat. I would willingly know (replied Dorinice all in an heat) what she could say of Timocrates, and whether she has had the malice to empoison— You are to blame in complaining (said Dorilas, interrupting her coldly) she has only fairly related the opinions which the world has, when a man buys a rich piece of Stuff, which is afterwards observed to be carried to a fair Lady; and after all, who can say, that Celanire will speak of it any where else? What she has said here signifies nothing; here was not in this room above four or five men, and seven or eight women. We could not forbear laughing at this pleasant passage, which Dorinice observing, she appeared moved with it, and was ready to fly upon Dorilas. However she bethough herself not to disoblige any body, in a company which she was glad to make savourable to her; and, dissembling her resentment, she discovered only her passion against Celanire. I cannot comprehend, said she, how this woman could have the imprudence to speak against me. Certainly she must be Mistress of a great stock of Calumny, and very fertile in invention. Besides, she should never have used these to offend a person who has long since learned to hold her tongue, but who can now break silence in a terrible manner for her. However, Madam, replied Do●●lus, whatever she said, she spoke with an assured tone, and I am much mistaken if you can dismay her. Is it that she is persuaded, replied Dorinice, that her Knight is redoubtable enough to stop the mouths of the world? I would advise her to have less presumption, if it be only this which renders her so bold. I am no more afraid of Timante than Celanire, and I have an hundred times told them both, that I was ashamed of their conduct. It's well known that Timante has not above two hundred pound a year to live on, and yet keeps his fine Coach, and three Lackeys. It's true he is young, and well shaped, and is never from Celanire, whose old husband has immense riches. I suppose one may draw from these particularities, such consequences as will not be much to Celanire's advantage: but instead of stopping at conjectures, I can find effects which will not tend to the justifying of her conduct. It's not three months since she gave money to a person of Quality who went into Flanders, and entreated him to buy her some of that Country's Horses. The Commission was executed, the Horses came, but not into Celanire's Stable. They draw every day Timante in his visits to Court and other Walks. The Coach they draw is a very fine one, and the Master of it knows no more than I, what it cost. After this, shall a woman so liberal as she find fault with Timocrates' paying me what he owes me?  Cleonice. 
This Comedy is pleasant enough, although the matter of it be neither new nor rare; these are Farces we see every day acted; but I would willingly know whether the divertisement you had, hindered you from feeling some indignation. Can you like that the desire of detracting should break off a real friendship, or make one renounce Civility, and the consideration one should have for the appearances of Friendship?  Philemon. 
Observe all the particularities which concur in this detraction. It is indignation which makes Celanire declaim first, she disgorges herself against a person younger and handsomer, to whom she sees Lovers run as soon as they are together, to the neglect of herself.  Belise. 
Is not the itch of talking to be at all regarded?  Dorante. 
The ease which a woman may expect when she reveals a secret that lies like a weight on her heart, occasions these disorders.  Cleonice. 
As well as the pleasure of showing that she sees to the end of the intrigue.  Erastus. 
Let us not forget the honour which Celanire does herself, when she says she always gives good advice to Dorinice.  Dorante. 
Pass on farther, and confess we, that when detraction has no real causes, she forms imaginary ones; she disguises every thing, and imposes what names she pleases; she calls the Prudence of a General of an Army that retreats, Cowardice; she terms Valour, Stupidity; and speaks of an Heroic Constancy, as brutish Obstinacy. She spares least of all women, because they are less in a condition to revenge themselves, however great their desire may be to it. Detraction will speak the gallant Air of Arsinoe, to be the mere affectation of a Wanton: the easy temper of Amasie, to proceed from cold temper and want of Spirits; and if Partenice, who is naturally very handsome, should wear a fine Gown, Detraction will not fail to accuse her of a Pride capable of ruining her Family. You shall hear praises given only to authorize Detraction. It's said that Timocrates has wit, when it is only to persuade that he is crafty and designing: and Dorinice is painted young and handsome, only to render her more probable light and wanton.  Erastus. 
It is true, that we see every day Detraction spares nothing; but leave we to others what concerns manners; and let's see, whether we cannot draw some strokes of satire which may serve to exhilerate Conversation, without offending Persons.  Dorante. 
One may observe from the Air and Behaviour of those who speak, whether the exagerations they make tend only to divert the Company. Then their discourse is only to be regarded as a mere jollity, which I would not condemn: but I would not like they should fall into an effective Detraction. So far ought we to be from mixing malice, and citing Crimes, that we should never touch seriously on the faults we would describe. If this be observed, I can freely share in the diversion.  
A famons Author speaking of a Pleader, made use of such expressions as seem to me more pleasant than injurious. I am tormented, said he, by the most famous Pettifogger of our Province, and I believe Normandy never bore a more dreadful one; his only name makes Widows tremble, and makes Orphans run away: There is not a piece of Glebe or Meadow, within three Leagues of him, that is safe from him. He shows great favour to children, when he is content to share with them in their Paternal inheritance.  Belise. 
I have an Aunt who has so great an aversion to women who seek only to draw praises, that she was pleased heretofore to set forth herself in such a manner, as furnishes us with those strokes of satire we mentioned, and here's part of the Terms she used. I myself will give you my Picture to the life; and first represent you with a low wrinkled Forehead, great Cheeks, and a picked Chin, which put together makes none of the most agreeable Figure. My eyes are small, round, and melanchollick, they speak nothing, and my mouth says as little. It has made a perpetual divorce with smiles and pleasanties. There is seen such a colour on my Skin, as will not displease those who love variety. My shape is like Madam Bouvillon 's in the Comical Romance, and I may say I am as well qualified for Conversation. I never dispute, being no ways concerned in what is said, and they would be to blame who should complain that I interrupt People, seeing I always keep silence. Curiosity which is natural to my Sex, has no power over my Spirit: I know nothing, I have learned nothing, and I have no mind to learn any thing.  Erastus. 
I must represent to you a Cavalier, whom the Lady you speak of was not willing to make your Uncle. His Size is low, and there is seen I know not what of ill boding on his Countenance; his Eyes are so small, and so sunk in his Forehead, that no body to this hour can tell whether they be black or grey; the hair of his Eyelids cover them, and were the Hair of his Head as long, he would not need to wear a Peruke; he has a straight and pointed Forehead, great Lips, hollow Cheeks, and a tawny Complexion; I say nothing of his Teeth, he has so few that they are not worth mentioning. The qualities of his Soul answer th●se of his Body, he is of a chagrin humour, restless and contrarying, nothing pleases him but what displeases others, and he finds nothing agreeable but what the world disapproves: Envy and Hatred are his predominant passions, he is never were out of humour than when he can do no mischief, and when he finds an occasion to do it, he embraces it with joy. He has learned all sorts of Languages, the better to deceive all sorts of People; he imagines the cheats which are made, denote a superiority of spirit with which he is charmed. Judge whether his Conversation be profitable and agreeable; He stutters, and cannot utter four words distinctly; the difficulty which he has in speaking would make him avoid Company, did he not frequent it to provoke and disturb it. Yet it's said he is in love, but if we believe him capable of being so, 'tis only to disappoint a Rival, and give perpetual trouble to a Mistress.  
As Erastus ended these words, Cleonice was told that the Horses were in the Coach, the Company arose, and Belise began in these words.  Belise. 
We have no reason to complain for our being interrupted; for we have said enough of Detraction. We know it diverts but too much, and is but too much in use. But I could wish we would treat of another Subject of Conversation very different and which I have a mind to propose. I would willingly hear how a Person might be handsomely praised in Company without putting him to the blush, or disobliging others whom we do not praise.  Dorante. 
This is a nice point, and we may examine it to night. Lisidor makes signs to me that he will treat us at Supper, and carry you to his House, and therefore you may take your measures accordingly.  Cleonice. 
You being the chief of our little Society, we must be ruled by you. I ought indeed to be gladder than the rest of the Company, because the good Supper we shall have, will make amends for the course Dinner I gave you.  Dorante. 
Good, Madam, do not thus impose on a man of my years, you think to engage me by this address to give you a Regale? Do you not see on the contrary that I entreat you to sup with me, because two Feasts are not to be expected on the same day.  
After these words, the Ladies were led to Cleonice's Chariot to prosecute their affairs. At night the Company came to Dorante's, and Belise, whilst Supper was making ready, claimed the promise had been made her.   

Entertainment IX. How one may insert Commendations in Conversation.  Dorante. 
IT will be easier for us to speak of the Muxims which are ordinarily observed in praising, than to say with what tenderness we we may season praises, to make them agreeable. What a turn ought we to give, and what Novelties must we not speak to please in these occasions? If our commendations be but mean, the person to whom we direct them, owes us less thanks than spite; and the rest of the Company will scarce vouchsafe to hear us. If on the contrary, we praise with excess, we cast into confusion, those whom we endeavour to exalt to a pitch they do not deserve, and we are despised by others, as pitiful flatterers.  Philemon. 
I am persuaded that it is less difficult to use the precepts which serve to make a Panegyric, than to find the address of agreeably insinuating praises in an Entertainment. And therefore the Ladies shall permit, if they please, that I relate what my memory furnishes me withal, in respect of great praises, and I will leave to Dorante, and Erastus the improving of this subject, with a better and more delicate Air.  
Beginning commonly, as we do by birth, I'll tell you first what I have read heretofore on that of a great Monarch.  
He was born in Purple, the Throne was his Cradle, and if it were possible to find an Infancy in so glorious and rational a life, we should find that he could only play with Sceptres and Crowns.  
Expect not I should enter on the particulars of what we may find praiseworthy in a person whom we would commend.  
You know better than I, that one may respect the Gifts which he may have received from Nature; as an elevated Soul, an upright heart, constant and generous, a sublime Spirit, vast and penetrant; an happy Memory, a solid judgement and delicate discernment.  
As for the gifts of the body, all the world immediately declares itself for the beauty of women, and the good Mien of men, and for my particular, I prefer health and a noble and free Air in all manner of behaviour.  
We forget not the favours which we hold of Fortune. It is she which gives Riches and Honours. And I dare even affirm she often contributes to our Glory, in conducting us as it were by the hand, into conjunctures, which become happy to us. But say we, in few words, that true merit consists chief in the good use we make of the different advantages we now mentioned.  
I will follow the Custom we have to refer this discussion to Morality, without charging our Conversation with it.  
However I cannot but say something of Valour and Liberty, which are my two favourite Virtues.  
It is certain, that to be charmed with 'em, I would have them be in all their purity, without mixture. That Valour lead us to brave Actions, without proceeding to Rashness; that it be accompanied with a prudence which may make us fear the ill Success which may be attributed to us; in a word, that it marches to glory through perils, without Ostentation. I likewise require that it have no need of any assistance to render itself worthy our admiration. That it be not sustained either either by Ambition, nor Anger, nor Revenge. That in a Battle Emulation, Shouts, and Cries, make it go neither farther nor with more earnestness, than if it saw itself alone and disarmed. Neither do I know whether I should give it the name of Virtue, how blazing soever it were, if it appeared to me unjust.  Belise. 
There are then few Conquerors whom you esteem, and I believe you spare neither the reputation of Caesar, nor the glory of Alexander.  Philemon. 
I confess I would have Equity reign every where. So that I would not condemn those who reproach Caesar for having oppressed the Liberty of his Country; and who cannot bear with Alexander's carrying Fire and Sword into Countries where they never so much as heard of him. Let's instance, for Example, a great Monarch who makes only lawful Conquests.  
Here's what I read this Morning of it: Has he ever attacked any place without winning it? Has he ever given Battle without vanquishing? Were ever better disciplined Troops seen, Troops more zealous, more ready to fight and signalise themselves? What Conqueror, surrounded with warlike Nations, has stretched the limits of his Conquests so far, in so short a time? What Warrior has triumphed over such puissant Confedarates, and ever rendered his Dominions more redoutable and flourishing?  
Here's what was said heretofore of an Illustrious Warrior, whose Valour raised him to the Empire.  
He practices himself alone all the Military Virtues, and it is an admirable thing, that being above all Corrivals, he contends for glory with himself; he endeavours to ravish it from his first actions by others still more glorious.  
As to what concerns Liberality, I would have it no less exempt from Ostentation than Valour. I would have it readily showed, in a grateful manner, and the most seemly as is possible, when it is to relieve persons who want necessaries for their Subsistance. But I require, on the contrary, that one give in the sight of as many people as is possible, when the gift is the recompense of merit.  
In a word I would have a liberal person to do as one of my friends did, whose liberality is thus mentioned.  
His Liberality equals that of a magnificent Prince in the greatness of Presents, and surpasses it in the choice of Persons. Those who receive his benefits, are the only Persons that can speak of 'em. In fine, his generosity would be more universally admired, if it were not so great, because more persons would comprehend it, in an Age wherein this Virtue is so rarely practised in its perfection.  
Loving as I do extremely this beneficent humour, you would have me speak more of it, and enlarge myself a little on the bounty of a great King.  
One cannot speak more advantageously of a private person, than to say that he has the spirit of a Prince; and one cannot better praise a great Potentate, than in saying he has the goodness of a private person: That in a condition which permits him every thing, he endeavours only to satisfy others. Was ever seen in a mean fortune so much goodness as he shows in the midst of his greatness? Whilst all Europe lies prostrate at his feet, imploring his protection or redoubting his prowess; it seems as if he had need of the least of his Subjects; so sensible is he of their afflictions, so earnest is he to offer 'em remedies, so favourable an ear does he lend to their supplications.  
This incomparable goodness extends itself to all conditions; the great receive every day Testimonies of it, the people every minute bless it, the domestics are charmed with it, and strangers admire it. Of the two parts of justice, he leaves to the Parliament that which disposes of the punishment of Crimes, reserving only that which distributes recompenses. He uses his Authority only to restore, to repeal, to pardon. In fine, his power appears without bounds, when he is to do good; and it seems, as if it were without Authority, when it is to punish. The Refusal of a favour is a Language unknown to him, and his Closet as well as his Heart, is always open to the remonstrances which is made him in behalf of the miserable.  Belise. 
I take notice in the praises you now made, you have spoken only to the advantage of men, and not one word of Commendation to those of my Sex. I believe it is I that hinder you, but if I shut your mouth herein, methinks Cleonice should open it.  Philemon. 
Well then, for the love of her I will open it. I'll praise a celebrated Beauty whom all the Court admires; and Cleonice will have the pleasure to see one part of her Charms, in the piece which I shall set forth.  
Yet Dorante could better than I acquit himself in this affair, he knows the Author that drew the Picture; and the Lady for whom he wrought. But what ought I not to undertake to recover your favours, I will satisfy you then, Madam, and recite word for word the little work I promised, provided my Memory will give me leave. Here's in what terms the Painter addresses himself to the Beautiful Lady whose Picture he drew.  
You know, Madam, that ordinary Beauties go only to the Painters to seek some new Charms, or to get rid of some Defects. You only, Madam, are above Arts which flatter and embellish. They have never wrought on you but unfortunately, and in making you lose as many advantages, as they are wont to bestow on Persons less accomplished than you. But if you are little obliged to Painting, you are less to dresses. You own nothing to the Science of others, nor to your own Industry, and you may securely remit yourself to Nature, she having taken such excessive Care of you. Most Women are handsome only from the Dresses they use. What they put on serves to hid their Defects, whereas on the contrary, whatever you put off discovers some new Charm.  
I shall not give you any general and common praise. The Sun will no more furnish me with a Comparison for your Eyes, than the Flowers for your Complexion. I might speak of the regularity of your Face, and symmetry of every part of your Body. But I perceive, beyond the observations I have made, there are a thousand things to think, which cannot be expressed, and a thousand things which are better felt than thought on.  
You have collected in yourself the divers Charms of different Beauties. That which surprises, which pleases, which flatters, which touches, which sharpens. Such a one has resisted a disdainful Beauty, which has yielded to a delicate one; and delicacy may give disgust to Lovers who like only to submit to disdainfulness. You only, Madam, know how to charm all the world: The passionate find in you the subject of their transports. Different spirits, divers humours, contrary tempers, all are subject to your Empire.  
The charms of your Conversation are not a whit inferior to those of your Face. One is no less affected with hearing you than seeing you. You can create a passion for you, though veiled. Never was so much Politeness seen as in your discourses, nothing so lively, nothing so just, nothing so happily thought. In fine, Madam, what one may say, after one has examined you, is, That there is nothing so unfortunate as to love you, nor nothing so difficult as not to love you.  
Having ended this Recital, Philemon continued to speak in this manner.  
I see that Erastus is ready to die with impatience to insult over me. His Eyes tell me, that what I now gave out for a Picture, represents nothing in particular, the whole being but a general description, an heap of expressions which an Author would have pass for exquisite ones.  Erastus. 
Fear not that I shall complain for not having seen in this description, a certain resemblance which you made me hope for: It belongs less to me, than the Lady who expected it to make you reproaches. Had you been as good as your word, Cleonice would have had the pleasure of believing herself handsomer than she is, and I the vexation of finding her more disdainful. This is a business that is between you and her.  Philemon. 
It is plainly seen you would set us at odds; but Cleonice may easily distinguish in my recital; The regularity of her Face, and symmetry of every part of her Body.  
Moreover I would fain know to whom may be better applied, what I said of Conversation, and Politeness? Must I declare openly that it was of Cleonice that I spoke?  Cleonice. 
I would advise you not to do it, because no body will believe you.  Belise. 
You understood him well enough, he need not explain himself, and I wonder my Husband should tell you such fine things in my presence. Let him protest if he will, that this is only to practise the maxim we speak of, and that he inserted these indirect Commendations, only to praise in an ingenious manner. It belongs to Erastus to see whether he will agree in it.  Erastus. 
I'll agree to nothing to day. I have a controlling humour in my head, and it is Timag●nes who gave it me by his obstinacy.  Dorante. 
You have been in a dispute then; let's know whence arose your difference, and what has caused the heat you seem s●●ll to be in.  Erastus. 
It is observed, that of late, Timagenes has a particular love for Berenice. He was notably set upon for it at Celysire's, even to the putting him almost out of countenance. But in fine, being ashamed of his confusion, he took courage, and with an assured tone thus spoke. Is it any marvel, says he, that I should love a most amiable Lady? Show me any Snow whiter, or any Rose of a more lovely colour than her complexion? Berenice's Eyes are Black, great, well set, and tempered with such sweetness, and yet so sparkling, that the room she sits in seems to be on fire with 'em. Her mouth is small, well shaped, her lips Scarlet, which as soon as a smile opens them, you see the finest Teeth in the world.  
I added immediately, that nothing could be truer than what Timagenes had said of Belise. Of Belise, said he briskly, the resemblance of the names deceive you, it is of Berenice that I speak. So much the worse for your Eyes, replied I, with a tone of assurance, it is not the conformity of names, it is the praises you give to Berenice which have made me believe you rendered justice to Belise.  Belise. 
I would not interrupt you as soon as I ought. The Company it seems must remark after what manner you give praises, whether true or false; besides I have not the strength to make you silent immediately, for I am a woman, and you give me fine words.  Cleonice. 
I shall never hear any discourse of praising, but I shall remember an Elogium which a friend of Dorante's made for the King. Two Shepherds spoke therein, one an Italian, whom I shall call Thirsis, the other a German, to whom I shall give the name of Menalca. Their Character was as different as the Genius of their Nation. Thirsis loved ingenious Arts and Rest. Menalca's inclinations lay only for War; and his greatest delight was in a tumultuous Life. They came to France only to see a King who filled all the Earth with his Name. After they had considered him with great admiration, they looked on one another, and immediately knowing one another to be strangers, they accosted, and enquired the occasion of their Travels. They had no sooner understood it, but this conformity of design made 'em continue their Conversation: But I know not whether I should make them to relate in wretched Prose, what they most ingenuously expressed in verse.  Dorante. 
Your Prose is well worth my Friend's Poetry; only go on.  Cleonice. 
I will tell you then in few words; that Thirsis was astonished how the King could so easily govern a great Kingdom, as a Father of a Family rules his House. He admired the Kingdom should be so flourishing, and in so good order, even as Menalca admired the Discipline observed in the Armies. When the Italian acknowledged that Paris exceeded Rome for fine Arts and Painting, Buildings and Music; the Germane was charmed to see with what exactness all that respected the Military Art was observed. He said there were never any braver Troops, never any better picked men, better clad, better armed, and more willing to serve. If Thirsis mused at Court on a King extraordinary well shaped, Equitable, Magnificent, Wise, Merciful; Menalca could not be tired in praising the Armies of a Vigilant Prince, Indefatigable and Intrepid. In fine, not to engage myself farther into a discourse, whence I cannot, perhaps, easily extricate myself, I shall content myself in telling you, that the two Shepherds obstinately disputed; that they could not agree, and that in their contest, they published all the King's Virtues both Civil and Military.  Belise. 
I do not doubt but you expect that I should praise in my turn, and instead of excusing myself through modesty. I am willing to do it, provided my memory furnishes me with the Subject and Expressions.  
It is then the Elogium of a Victorious Prince which I undertake, with the assistance of a delicate wit, whose Works to my great misfortune you too well know, to thank me for what I recite out of 'em.  
This Author writes to the Prince after the winning of a considerable Battle, and makes him certain reproaches, and forms a kind of Quarrel, in a manner, infinitely more agreeable than the most regular Congratulation. You may judge by several passages which I remember.  
How joyful I am, my Lord, to be at a distance from your Highness, that I may the better say what I have long since thought of you. I dared not declare it, lest I should fall into the inconveniencies, wherein I have beheld Persons who had taken the like Liberties. But, my Lord, you do too much to be passed over in silence, and you will be unjust, if performing the Actions you do, it remained there, and no mention were made to you of 'em. If you knew in what manner all the world talks of you, you would be astonished to see with how little fear of displeasing you they speak of what you have done. In truth, my Lord, I know not what you have thought of, for it was a great boldness in you to have at your Age topped two or three old Captains, whom you ought to respect, if it were only for their Age. To have taken sixteen pieces of Cannon which belonged to a Prince who is the King's Uncle, and the Queen's Brother, with whom too you never had any difference. To have put into disorder the best Spanish Troops who so kindly let you pass. All this is contrary to good manners, and matter enough, I think, for your Confessor. I have heard indeed that you were obstinate, and that it was not good contending with you, but I did not think you would have been transported so far, and if you continue, you will render your self insupportable to all Europe. Neither the Emperor nor King of Spain will have any thing to do with you.  
You know the Letter is longer, but the Author speaking openly what he pleases in the rest of it, I confess I would not charge my memory with it.  Cleonice. 
I have the same relish, and I had rather a thousand times know how to praise in this lusory manner, than to be able to compose those long and serious Panegyrics, which are very laborious to those that make them, and very troublesome to those who are obliged to hear them.  Philemon. 
I wonder that Dorante has said nothing yet. Does he think to be quit for having given us a Supper? Let him not be mistaken; we have now praised a valiant man; let him make an El●●●● of a liberal one.  〈◊〉 
I shall recount to you the tour of a gallant man, whose inclinations, you'll find, led him to liberality.  
I doubt not but you have heard that Voiture was a great Gamester, and that he lost in one day 1400 Lewis' at the deceased Monsieurs, where he had the Office of introducer of Ambassadors Being an honest man as well as a man of wit, he would send away the next morning the Sum he had lost; and finding at home only 1200 Lewis', he sent to demand 200 of Costar his intimate friend. Send them to me speedily, wrote he to him, you know I play no less on your credit than mine own. If you have them not, borrow 'em: If you find no body that will lend 'em you, ●ell all that you have even to your good friend Monsieur Vauquet. For I must not fail of having 200 Pistols. You see with what imperiousness my friendship speaks, the reason is because it is vehement. Yours would say, I entreat you to lend me 200 Lewis', if you can without putting yourself to any inconvenience; I beg your pardon that I should be so free with you.  
Costar sent the 200 Pistols, and answered, he never believed he could have so much pleasure for so little money. Seeing you play on my credit, says he, I will always keep a stock to preserve it. I can moreover assure you that a near Kinsman of mine has always a 1000 Lewis' as much at my disposal as if they were in your Cosser. However I would not hereby expose you to any considerable loss. One of my neighbours told one yesterday, that his lost Pecunia would have proved the best friend in the world to him, could he have kept him by him, and I advise you to keep yours. I send you back your Note but am surprised you should deal thus with me, having taken such a different course with Monsieur Balsac.  
I will add then, that Balsac having need of money, sent to entreat Voiture to lend him 1200 Livers, and charged the Porter to give him a Note for the like Sum: Voiture told the Money, and took the Note, wherein were these words.  
I underwritten confess to owe to Monsieur Voiture the Sum of 400 Crowns which he has lent me for, etc.  
Voiture taketh the Note, and subscribes these words.  
I underwritten confess to owe to Monsieur de Balsac, the Sum of 800 Crowns, for the pleasure he has done me in borrowing of me 400.  
After this, he gives the Note to Mr. Balsac's Valet de Chambre to carry to his Master.  
The Company was very well satisfied with this Recital, and could not but entertain themselves with it all the Supper time.  
Scarce were they risen from Table, but Cleonice reassumed the discourse; I am charmed, said she, with the contents of Voiture's Obligation written under that which Balsac sent him.  Belise. 
I like very well too the manner after which he sent for 200 Pistols, grounding this sort of boldness on the firmness of this Friendship.  Philemon. 
Nothing but a strict familiarity could authorize this liberty; without this there had been neither discretion nor civility in this proceeding; and you know what would become of Societies without these two so necessary qualities.  Cleonice. 
They are so necessary; that we cannot better spend our time, than in treating of them.   

Entertainment X. That to please in Conversation, one must be discreet, and keep an exact decorum.  Philemon. 
HAve you not observed, that it is not young people who generally please in Conversation, whatever agreeableness their youth may give them?  Dorante. 
I do not wonder at it, for besides that they have not a sufficient stock of experiences for Conversation, they be commonly too hot in speaking, and show in what they say more impetuosity than reservedness: But that which is most considerable, is, that they seldom consider what they are, and before whom they speak.  Lisidor. 
I beseech you to show 'em no favour for my sake, for I acknowledge they are for the most part little discreet, and greatly conceited; they speak with a blustering Air, interrupt, and interrogate after the same manner; they speak what they please, without considering whether it may not displease others.  Erastus. 
We shall not accuse you of these defects; for so far are you from interrupting, and questioning, that you have said little, but to the purpose: But let's hear what Lindamire will say in her turn.  Lindamire. 
That Girls of my Age are less obliged to speak than to hold their Tongues; and that it is easy for me to observe a modesty, which might be of different use to a Person of wit.  Philemon. 
Men have less moderation than those of your Sex, and the heat they have ordinarily when they come into the world, makes 'em to speak and act only in a blustering way.  Dorante. 
That which I like worst in most of them is, that they never think of correcting themselves, and never reflect on what good manners require.  Lisidor. 
But wherein consists this Decorum you speak so much of?  Dorante. 
I know not whether we have not already sufficiently explained it. However, seeing our conduct is so greatly concerned in it, we will further deliver our opinion about it. I think that to speak with a due Decorum, is to utter only things precisely which are suitable to times, places, and persons; such as are fit for him that speaks, and those who hear.  Cleonice. 
Do you think it easy to know what we are, and of what humour the Persons are before whom we speak; to know what is proper for us, and what may please the rest of the Company?  Dorante. 
I acknowledge it's hard to judge of the disposition wherein the Persons are that compose an assembly. The greatest part of Mankind makes it a kind of merit to be always on its Guard, and to conceal its intentions. Besides, men's humours change; health is not always the same; Ambition, Love, and different Interests inspire different Inclinations. But, Madam, it is not necessary that our knowledge should reach to the hearts of Persons, and that we sound into the depths of their Souls, whether they be such in effect as they appear to be. It is sufficient we know what their rank is, that we may have the deference for 'em that is due; and that we consider what their capacity is; that we may not speak too boldly before abler Folks than ourselves. It's true, that these reflections are not sufficient, we are obliged to remember ourselves. What would you think, if a little young Gentleman, tho' born in Wales, should draw his Chair, and sit jig by joul with a Duke or Marquis; or interrogate in a familiar tone with a Marshal of France?  Erastus. 
To pass over what refers to persons of quality. I say there are things which are truly ingenious, and yet which lose their relish in the mouth of a man that is not of the profession. You have perhaps heard of a neighbouring Prince entertaining one day his chief Minister, on the most subtle parts of Natural Philosophy: His Favourite heard him with impatience, and being desirous his Master would rather apply himself to the Study of the art of reigning, than physical Questions. Sir, (said he to him, in interrupting him discontentedly) are you not ashamed to be so well versed in these matters?  Philemon. 
If a man of a mederate capacity, not knowing himself, should take on him to speak great, would he not deserve to be told with an Ancient, My Friend, you seem to me to strive to speak beyond your Ability?  Erastus. 
There are people whom another sort of Vanity blinds. You knew Clitandre, he was the Son of a mean Citizen, and an Office which he held under the King, was not more considerable than his Extraction. Yet he was well enough received by persons of the greatest Quality, and it was his Conversation that procured him this admittance. I may likewise say, that he would have extremely pleased, had he but remembered what he was; But he showed more Vanity than Wit in his discourses and behaviour. One day being at a Princesses, where there were none but Persons of great Rank, he addressed himself to some old Lords, who were Governors of Provinces, or the King's Lieutenants of Countries, and talked to them of Versailes, as one would speak of Japan to persons that had never seen the Map. You cannot believe, said he to them, how great the Charms are which fix us to the Court, maugre the fatigues and perils we may meet there. I profess our Life is a real Navigation, that we are tossed about, behold every day wracks, and are uncertain whether the Waves will drive us into Port, or run us on a Rock. Judge in what astonishment was the Company. They looked on one another, they smiled, and failed not to demand of Clitandre news from Versailes, with as much earnestness, as when our Ambassador arrived from Siam. In fine, his presumption so blinded him, That the Company grew weary of hearing him and bearing with him any longer.  Cleonice. 
I have a Neighbour that is no ways inferior to your Clitandre? She is wife to an Officer under the King, whose place is too mean to be known: This Neighbour comes often to work with some Work-women whom I have employed to work me a Bed. Some four Months passed I found her more melancholy than ordinary, and I asked her the reason. How, Madam, said she, with the greatest surprise imaginable, do not you know that the King sets out to Morrow for Luxembourg, and that my Husband is obliged to follow him. To speak freely, added she sighing, the women of the Court are very unhappy, they pay dear in certain occasions, for the honour they have in others. I saw yesterday enter into your Apartment a Judge's Lady, whose Countenance seemed very Serene. I protest sincerely, that in my affliction I wished to have a Husband of the same profession, that I might spend my days with less hurry.  Philemon. 
There are an infinite number of Clitandre's in the world, and we may see every day, that a man who thus forgets himself, is the common laughingstock of Companies.  Cleonice. 
But is it so difficult a matter for one to know one's self? Do we not feel ourselves? Can we believe that we should conceal our Sentiments from ourselves, as we dissemble 'em to others?  Erastus 
Yes, Madam we take pleasure to deceive ourselves. It so seldom happens that our opinions be as just as they ought to be; that our hearts are therewith irritated, and makes us secret reproaches of it. And therefore it is that we dare not make too sincere reflections on the things which put us out of humour; and if on the contrary, we be so satisfied with ourselves to set cheerfully on this examination, we fall into a Vanity which is more intolerable than the Ignorance of ourselves can be.  Cleonice. 
But why so much subtilizing to know exactly what we are, and the persons before whom we are obliged to speak; when the matter concerns only the due Decorum we ought to observe to one another. If we meet with Persons of a considerable Rank, or extraordinaty Merit, do we not naturally fear to displease them? And does not this fear lead us to testify to 'em the deference we own them? Do we feel any repugnance in yielding them the most Honourable, or Commodious place? In stopping to let them go in or out, in directing our words to them before the rest of the Company, in showing Complaisance for their Sentiments, or at leastwise in not directly opposing them, if they prove contrary to ours?  Belise. 
I imagine that it is more easy to keep this Decorum and Character of Discretion with Persons that are our Inferiors, than with those to whom we are obliged to submit. Our hearts are imperious, they suffer not over patiently that any Law should be imposed on them; but perhaps they are generous enough to lay only easy ones.  Cleonice. 
Do you believe all people's hearts have the generesity of yours? You are very favourable to 'em, if you have this opinion of 'em. Many Servants who are continually ill used, will not consent to what you say, That they have only a light Yoke laid on them.  Dorante. 
It is true, most Masters are very unjust, and far from that discretion we speak of. Those who find themselves constrained to serve, are they not unfortunate enough, without increasing the misery of their condition, by Injuries and a Tyranny which comes near in humanity?  Erastus. 
That which I cannot comprehend, is, That in the Army most young Gentlemen fly upon their Servants and misuse them, without considering the need they may chance to have of them. You know how many occasions there are wherein the life of a Master may depend on the fidelity of a Servant.  Philemon. 
Shall we fay nothing of our equals? And whatever familiarity we may have with them, shall we not observe a Character of Respect in our deal with them? That which contributes most to preserve Friendship, to speak properly, is only the effect of Discretion and the Civility we speak of. These two Qualities are so necessary, that a man cannot well pass through the world without them; and it is impossible that Pleasure and Politeness should reign in a Conversation where these are omitted to be practised.  Cleonice. 
And this Discretion and Decorum, which you so much commend; do they hinder us from mixing some Railleries' in our discourses?  Philemon. 
No, Madam, but they hinder our joking in such a manner as may give offence.  Belise. 
It would not be amiss to examine within what bounds our Raillers should be included; but it is 〈◊〉 and it is better to defer 〈◊〉 discourse till to Morr●●, when the Company comes to dine at Philemon's, who entreats it.  Cleonice. 
This entreaty savours of Ceremony. Have you any Lindamire come, whose arrival you would celebrate, as Dorante and Erastus have done for that of a Nephew, and Sister in Law?  Belise. 
I find you little equitable, in that you would not let me have my part in this joy; and profiting so much by this Conversation, it is no marvel if I endeavour to renew it.  
The Company consented to Belise's desire, and met at her House next Morning, where they dined after the same manner as they did at Erastus' and Dorante's: They afterwards passed into Belise's Chamber, and began the discourse after this manner.   

Entertainment XI. What care must be taken in Raillery.  Dorante. 
RAillery has been always respected, as Salt which scasons Conversation, and renders it agreeable, by a little sharp relish that it gives it. A Discourse that is not enlivened with it, will appear no less flat and insipid than Meat without Salt. It's true, we cannot suffer Meat that is too salt, and a Raillery too piquant is more intolerable.  Belise. 
Nothing is more certain, than that Ragouts are so far from preserving of health, that they ruin it. Yet the ravage they make in our Bodies, is less hurtful, than the disorder that Raillery causes in a Society. It introduces division, and breaks those Friendships which appear to be the most solidly established.  Erastus. 
Why, would you have a little Mirth to destroy a Society, unless it be composed of illnatured People? Supposing an assembly of ingenious Persons do meet, their minds being agreeable, and well turned, they will understand Raillery, and divert one another, instead of falling foul on each other, and quarrelling.  Belise. 
Believe me, Erastus, the Persons you speak of, who seem to take all in good part, and understand Raillery, yet keep a secret grudge against these Railers. They revenge themselves as oft as they meet with an occasion, and it is well if they can disguise the Subject of their Revenge.  Cleonice. 
I acknowledge my humour leads towards Raillery, but I resist the inclination, when I consider the consequences. I find we ordinarily transgress therein the Rules of Civility and Discretion, and expose ourselves to the danger of offending persons whom we should not disoblige. In a word, if there be less pleasure in refraining from Raillery, yet without doubt there is more safety; as I find more in walking in a broad Path, than in dancing on Flowers on the brink of a Precipice.  Erastus. 
For my part, I am persuaded that there are Railleries' which do more offend, than effectual injuries. When we utter injuries, it's anger which transports us against Persons that we hate; but it oft happens, that we despise so much those whom we jeer, that we disdain to put ourselves into a Passion against them.  Belise. 
The more I search what Persons one may innocently rally, the fewer I find. Let's examine particulars, and Dorante will afterwards tell us, whether there be persons that we may lawfully Rally. I will begin by Friends; I would have them spared, and Friendship respected as a Sacred thing. Moreover are we not obliged for our Interest, to conceal their defects, that we may not give occasion to be reproached for having made an ill choice.  Cleonice. 
For my part, I shall think less of rallying my Enemies, and if I loved Revenge, Raillery would appear to me too weak a means to satisfy me.  Philemon. 
Persons of Merit should be still more remote from our Raillery, when even we can distinguish some defect among their Virtues. Do we not consider, that there is nothing perfect, and that we are bound to take every thing in the most favourable sense we can?  Belise. 
I find moreover, that Persons without Merit are too contemptible to be rallyed, and I would not so much as spend one breath about them.  Cleonice. 
It must be granted too, that Raillery is too weak to use to an ill man.  Erastus. 
But what will Lisidor and Lindamire tell us? They must speak their opinions, and intermix in our Conversations.  Lisidor. 
I would not have young People rallied, lest they be discouraged to enter into Company; the small experience they have, requires they should be indulged, and their first faults pardoned.  
And it being not fit I should speak only for my interest, I could wish likewise that instead of rallying Old People, they should have all Respect shown them. I have heard say, that Nations who had the power of choosing Magistrates, took them always from among Ancient Persons. But why should we jeer Old Men? Is it because they have lived long, is this their fault? If it be, it is a Crime which every one is desirous to be guilty of.  Erastus. 
It's your turn now, Lindamire, to speak.  Lindamire. 
I would not have women rallied, but that men should have a Complaisance for them, mixed with Respect, as is observable in the behaviour of polite Gentlemen. However, to be no less equitable than Lisidor, I would not be more partial towards my Sex; than he has showed himself for the interests of his Age. And I acknowledge I like worse that women should undertake to rally men, for they expose themselves thereby to blunt Repartees, and bring men out of the bands of Respect and Civility wherein they should always keep.  Philemon. 
And I for my part add, that we must not let Lindamire nor Lisidor speak, or resolve to hold our tongues. I doubt not but Cleonice and Dorante are very glad to see the manner after which they enter into our Conversations; but Belise and I who have not the same interest, cannot be expected to like that young persons should show themselves more able than we.  Cleonice. 
I'll make no answer to a person who will regale after 〈◊〉 manners; it were better 〈…〉 our discourse, that I 〈…〉 whom 〈…〉 It is not 〈…〉 the unfortunate 〈…〉 number, and that we ought to show our compassion to their misfortune, far from making it a Subject of Raillery.  Belise. 
There is also a kind of inhumanity at laughing at deformed persons, whether lame or crookt-backed. This man not having made himself, why should I reproach him with his defects, as one might do a Carver for an ill proportioned Statue?  Erastus. 
I find no less injustice in mocking of a Stranger, in that he speaks not well our Language, or that his Bonnet pleases us less than a Hat.  Philemon. 
For my part I pardon one who rallies the first on some slight fault, but I cannot suffer he should make a jest of a considerable failing.  
Lupo d'Vberti, according to the report of a modern Author, increased his shame instead of excusing his Cowardice, when he himself made a jest grounded on the allusion of his Name. Having surrendered a Castle which he might defend, he contented himself with saying, That Wolf's did not like to be shut up. But let's see whether Dorante can cite many persons whom it is permitted to rally.  Dorante. 
Pray then tell me, if you please, whether I may not rally people who are full of themselves, who are conceited of their own merit; in a word, who are ridiculous, or intolerable through the extravagancy of their presumption. Can you greatly blame me, if I inquire seriously of an hectoring Bully, whether he has killed no body to day; and entreat him to tell me what Captain is to be esteemed most after himself, Caesar, or Alexander? Shall I spare an infinite number of People who carry the Fortune of the World in their hands, who promise employs, dispose of places at Court, help Maids to Husbands, and Bachelors to rich Wives: who can tell what passes in all places; know what the King whispered the other morning in the Queen's Ear; who talk only of Lords, Dukes, and Earls, and look upon it as a great condescension to so much as cite the name of a Knight or ordinary Gentleman? Will you spare those who step first into all Fashions, and distinguish themselves by the magnificent Gaudiness of their , being but of ordinary Birth, and as mean Fortune? May I not seem to admire the Points and Ribbons of one of these Gallants, and to make exclamations on every thing that I see? May I not affirm that his Cloth is too good to have been made in Europe? That his Peruke is longer by a Finger's breadth, than that of such a Lord's, and of a better colour, and sits better on him than that of the Count de— does on him? Will you forbidden me to tell him in his ear, that there is a most rich Stuff made in such a place, and that only the King and his Royal Brother have any of it yet? and that I esteem myself happy in having so luckily met with him before this wear becomes common? Shall I not laugh at those Persons who think they are full of Science, who approve of nothing, who condemn every thing, who speak all Sentences, and explain sometimes English into Greek to make it better understood; as he that pronounced gravely these words; It is with reason that we call man a little World; that is to say, a Microcosm?  
Will you not suffer me to deride a Covetous Miser, whom an insatiable greediness makes starve with Cold and Hunger in the midst of abundance? May I not tell him, that his money is no more his than mine, seeing he makes no more use of it? Would you have me love an odious Person, who contributes to the public misery; who keeps locked up a Treasure which would be useful in Trades, and who takes a secret pleasure in seeing the poor suffer, that he may make the better Market of what he keeps in his Barns?  Cleonice. 
I confess the gentlest treatment which Covetous men can expect, is to be rallied; and I think it is with these sort of People that one diverts one's self most.  Philemon. 
You have, perhaps, heard a story of a man of this stamp, who was more covetous than Plautus' Euclio. It is said that he had a prodigious heap of Corn, whence he pretended to draw a most considerable profit; when of a sudden the Rain which was much wanted came and destroyed his hopes. He would needs live no longer after this misfortune; he fitted a Rope to his Neck, and fastened it to a Beam of his Chamber, and throwing himself in a fury off the Chair he stood on, by mishap he threw that down, which made such a noise that the people underneath came running up and beheld this Spectacle, and a Neighbour cut the Rope to save, if possible, this Wretch's life. In sine, he was so carefully plied with proper remedies, that his life was recovered against his will. Endeavours were also used to compose his mind, and a certain Almanac was produced that promised such storms of Hail as would destroy all the Corn in the Fields. But he fell again into disquiet, when he was told in what manner he was preserved. Nothing would serve his turn but that his Rope should be paid for, and knowing that his Neighbour laughed at his folly, he got a warrant for him to bring him before a Justice to satisfy for the damage he did him in cutting his Rope.  Erastus. 
I have a Kinsman who has not hanged himself yet, although his Covetousness is no wise inferior to your Usurer's My Kinsman is young, he has Birth, and Courage; and yet a base humour blemishes whatever otherwise is praiseworthy in him: I persuaded him to serve in the wars, and the better to prevail with him. I set before him, that if he lived, he would be recompensed; and that if he happened to die, he would find— You believe, perhaps, I told him that he would find honour; not at all, but that he would find an end of his expenses, which a man is obliged to make during the course of his life. Our Miser resolved upon it, but when he was to buy Horses, and provide the rest of his Equipage, he soon renounced War; he told me he had rather retire to an Estate he had near Paris, and that he could subsist on an hundred things, whence Farmers drew a profit, which he pretended not to let them have. To turn him from this design, I offered to make a Campaign with him at Sea, if he were willing to go; And he needed no Horses nor Tents for this; and the Captain's Table being at his Service, he consented thereto, and we set out. It's not necessary to relate to you what our Naval Army did, I shall only tell you, that at our return, we found ourselves at Provence in the beginning of Winter. We would needs enjoy the fine time of that Country, and therefore made a match of walking out with Ladies. One day as we walked in a Path separated from a Meadow by a Ditch; we thought that this separation was not great enough to hinder us from leaping to the other side, and enjoying a nearer Conversation with the Ladies. Our Miser, being accustomed to sparing, was so sparing of his strength, that he leaped into the Ditch. The Ladies burst out into a fit of loud Laughter, and I made what haste I could to assist my Kinsman. I stooped as low as I could to draw him out thence, bidding him only give me his hand; this word affrighted him more than his fall; and looking earnestly upon me, what would you, answered he me immediately, have me to give you? At these words I observed the fault I had committed, and explaining myself in a manner more conformable to his inclination; Cousin, replied I, shall I give you my hand? With all my heart, answered he, dear Cousin; and having offered his, I drew him out of the Ditch, where I believe he would have still lain had I not changed the expression.  
The Company having laughed at Erastus his Relation, they prosecuted their discourse.  Dorante. 
You acknowledge then that one may deride a covetous man, and I suppose you will as easily grant, that we may jeer those persons who imagine they are always sick, who are continually taking Medicines, and who yet sleep well, and eat better.  Belise. 
I know a woman who has a great deal of wit, and talks well when there is no mention of Sickness or Remedies. But she gives very good diversion, as soon as the Conversation turns on matters relating to health. I was saying something to her yesterday a bout her Husband, who is a very honest Gentleman, and after she had allowed his good qualities, she added, that he had one bad one, which she could not cure him of; which is, says she, that he is so obstinate that he will take no Remedies? But why should he take any, replied I, if he be well? How, said she, do you think it enough to be in health, without taking Remedies for preventing distempers which you may fear?  
In fine, when this imaginary sick body takes Medicines, she tastes it then, and says there is too much Sena in one, too much Rhubarb in another, just as we find fault with Broths being too hot or too cold. Her Physician in ordinary died not long ago, and her friends fixed another on her of a humour so frank and brisk, that instead of prescribing Remedies to her, he did her the displeasure to tell her, that she was in good health. She fell into a passion, and answered smartly to this honest Doctor, that if he would order her nothing, she knew where to find out others that would. The next morning she chose one, who regales her every morning with different Medicines to her content. It's not above three or four days ago that I was at her House, and diverted myself with hearing her talk of the several sort of diseases she feared, and their particular Remedies. Her friends do never fail to send to know of her health, and a Lackey of Amasia's being come on the same Errand; you may tell your Lady, answered she, with a languishing Air, that I thank her for her mindfulness of me, but that my health is lost, there falling a cold humour on my left shoulder which puts me to grievous pain. This Lackey was no sooner gone, but we saw the Princess Demaratas Gentleman enter; he made such another sort of Compliment, but he had a different answer made him. I pray you, Sir, said our fanciful Lady, to let the Princess know how sensibly I find myself obliged to her, tell her that a grievous pain in my head has hindered me ever since yesterday from taking any rest. As soon as ever this Gentleman was gone, I looked on the pretended sick body with amazement. Is your distemper gotten up into your head within this minute, said I to her briskly, or have you forgot that it is not a moment past that your illness was in the left Shoulder? Did I say it was in my Shoulder, answered she? Nothing more true, replied I; it's no matter, added our fanciful Lady, provided I said I was troubled with some great illness, it's enough, I need say no more.  Dorante. 
When I should leave to the Stage the representing the humours of these imaginary sick Persons, yet I may at least rally Lovers, and affirm that they have Capriccios that reach to extravagancy; but I shall make me too many Enemies, should I declare myself against so universal a Passion. Of six persons who near me there would be four who would murmur against me. But as for Gray-headed Lovers, I doubt not but you will deliver them up to me, and allow 'em to be ridiculous, when they creep to a young Wench who laughs at them and their superannuated sweetnesses.  Philemon. 
What will you say of those young hearts who feel the first strokes of Love, with so much the more pleasure, as not knowing it yet, they think themselves not obliged to oppose it.  Dorante. 
Instead of rallying them for their Innocency, I would recount to them little Stories which might open their Eyes.  Belise. 
You make me remember how you drolled with Cleonice, when her heart inclined to prefer Erastus before all his Rivals, when she did not then know the Sentiments she had for him.  Dorante. 
To pass by this discourse, Is there any thing more pleasant, than to see the pains your Coquettes take to bring in new Gallants, and to pile hearts one upon another, just as Erastus' Kinsman would please himself in heaping up money? Have you not a thousand times observed the continual perplexity of one of these Wantoness, how to dress herself, and to keep all she thinks she has acquired? She speaks to one, looks on the second, and smiles on the third. This Theme is so large, that it is sufficient to deter a man that has talked enough already. I dare no more insist on the Railleries' which one might make of jealous Persons. I shall content myself in telling you, that these last Fools are yet more ridiculous than others. They never fail to form imaginary Subject of their frenzy, when they cannot find any real. They see nothing in the Objects which they behold through their jealousy, but what may relate to this passion, as we see all things yellow when we have the Jaundice. An Husband that takes notice his Wife is careless of herself, thinks he is not loved by her; and if she dresses, then 'tis to please others. I should never have done, should I describe all these follies.  
It's sufficient to say, that a jealous Person poisons every thing, and that instead of favourably interpreting things, for to set his heart at ease, he gives every thing such a construction as may increase his disquiet. Among his misfortunes, I observe one which is peculiar to him; which is, that a jealous person is derided instead of being pitied; although all other wretched people are usually commiserated.  Erastus. 
What stories might one not tell of a jealous Person?  Cleonice. 
And what may one not say of a Coquette?  Erastus. 
Madam, be ruled by me; let's not enter too far on such a nice Subject; how do we know but we shall make the world laugh at us? Perhaps we flatter ourselves, and the world may know us better than we do ourselves.  Cleonice. 
I'll not oppose myself against the common custom of the world; people may laugh as long as they will with all my heart, provided you continue always as jealous as you have been hitherto; and I continue to be as great a Coquette as you have found me since you knew me.  Philemon. 
Methinks we have spoken enough of Persons that one may rally, but I know not whether we may not add something on the manner, after which civilised persons may rally one another.  Dorante. 
We have already said, that if they do it, it must be finely and delicately, and to make the Conversation more agreeable. If you will, we will say likewise, that indirect Railleries' do please no less in an Entertainment, than praises which are given indirectly, have a grace in a Panegyric.  
Here's a tour which will not displease you, it alone makes an indirect Raillery so much the more delicate, as it appears simple, natural, without affectation, and without malignity.  
A certain Person of Paris whom I shall call Lisicrates, had nothing but what was obscure in his birth and his life. However, a Son he had being gone into Italy very young, had got a great Estate at Rome, and sent wherewithal make plenty reign in his Family. The Father died, and a Nephew to whom he had left a good Portion, set up immediately for a Spark. It came into one of my Friend's head to abase his pride, and to show him that his Family was still obscure enough not to be known in its own Country. He found him in a company where the Conversation turned upon News. My friend was asked what he knew, because he was a person of good intelligence; he told them what was talked of at Versailles, and passing afterwards to Foreign Countries, he reported with an Artificial Tone, That the Letters from Rome inform us that Lisicrates is dead in this Town.  Cleonice. 
Ah! Dorante, how this Satirical stroke pleases me! how smart is it and ingenious! how it gives to understand, what your Friend would not explain!  Philemon. 
That which I like best, is, that the Nephew of Lisicrates could find no just cause to be angry. One might say that Dorante's friend gave only a bare acount of what he had read in a Letter.  Belise. 
I confess I should sooner give the name of a witty word, than that of a Raillery, to what Dorante has now related to us.  Erastus. 
This expression is short enough to be called a witty word, if it had I know not what of sharpness in it; for a witty word should more touch to the quick, and surprise, than Raillery.  Philemon. 
It's true, that Raillery is more extensive, and that according to the opinion of an Italian, its sharpness should rather resemble the bitings of a Lamb, than those of a Dog.  Belise. 
There are Raillers which we may effectually compare to Dogs, they make as great a noise as if they barked, they set upon people and by't them.  Erastus. 
The Cynical Philosophers were too biting in their Railleries', and in their pretended witty words; but seeing we are on witty words, shall we do amiss in examining wherein they differ from Raillery? I am jealous too that I am mistaken in citing a pretended witty word, of Lupo d'Vberti for a Raillery. In effect, the allusion he made to a Wolf, and the few words which comprehend his thought, would make one take what he utters for a witty Saying, if any but himself had spoke this Witticism.  Cleonice. 
Before we come to witty Say, shall we say nothing of gross Raillery, having spoken enough of that which is delicate?  Belise. 
I am very glad you censure those Balderdash Fellows, who imagine they are fine wits, when they retail out some sorry equivocation, or trifling allusion.  Cleonice. 
Besides this Raillery you speak of, is there not still a gross kind of Raillery among the mean people, such as Porters and Carmen?  Belise. 
We must let them have their jokes too, and if they be suitable to men of their breeding and Conversation, no more can be expected from them.  Philemon. 
These people have a very diverting way with them, which is, to give one another blows with their hands on their shoulders, and these with them are diverting strokes.  Erastus. 
They feel 'em so, I suppose.  Belise. 
I think Raillery should appear natural and without constraint, and the air of the Countenance, the tone of the voice, and all the countenance of him who rallies should be accommodated to the Subject of the Raillery.  Dorante. 
Except, if you please, when one pretneds to raise laughter, for than we should appear cold and serious, the better to surprise by the joke, which must not be expected or foreseen. Saracen was admirable at this, and Voiture too. The Works of both show what an happy Genius they had in rallying in an agreeable and ingenious manner.  
But let's pass to witty Say, seeing you desire it, and the matter leads us thereto.   

Entertainment XII. Of witty Say and Repartees.  Dorante. 
RAillery does not always include witty words; we may utter 'em (if we can) in all occasions, and on all sorts of Subjects; but they being more commonly used in Satyrs than in Panegyrics, let's begin with those which we may regard as Railleries'. They should be close, sharp, and lively, and in some sort like Epigrams. So that all those pretended witty Say which are long, and include a great Morality, are rather Maxims and Sentences, than witty words; I am sure they relish not well with Cleonice.  Cleonice. 
You may answer for me. You know the aversion I have to hear cited with a grave tone, a Sentence or a Proverb. I leave these Expressions to old grave Citizens, or to some Doctors who are overrun with an excess of Greek and Latin. I have over observed, that Courtiers and fine Wits, who understand the World, speak with less swelling, and in a more easy manner.  Dorante. 
You will not then be over fond of a Moral Saying of Charles the 5th. which the Spaniards take for very Witty. This Emperor said, That the Counsellors of State were the Prince's Spectacles, but that those Princes were very unhappy that needed them.  Erastus. 
I not only prefer an Answer of Lewis XII. before this Sentence, but I acknowledge I am charmed with it, I find a more exact Sense in it than in Charles the 5th 's Maxim, and I admire the generosity of its Morality. These Ladies without doubt know, that Lewis XII. was a Branch of the House of Orleans, which had had bloody Bicker with that of Burgundy; and perhaps they know already what I am going to say. When Lewis XII. was on the Throne, one of his Courtiers joyfully told him, Sir, you have now the Power to be revenged of your Enemies. No, no, answered this generous Prince, it is not for a King of France to remember the Injuries offered to a Duke of Orleans.  Cleonice. 
I like better these Noble Say, than those of the Ancients, which I have heard so greatly commended. And truly many of 'em do not over-please me, I cannot tell whether it be my fault or not.  Dorante. 
However, we must do justice to the great Men among the Ancients. If their fine Say appear to us slat, it is because we enter not into those Interests which made them speak them. They are no more enlivened by the persons who uttered them. They may have lost some of their beauty by the Translation which has made you understand them, and they are found void either of the allusions or of favourable conjunctures which upheld them.  
However, Madam, the Circumstances which I now remarked, hinder not, but that there remains from the Ancients, an infinite number of great Say, with which you may be satisfied. But very likely you have not been much delighted with the Language of Amiot, when you have read the Tracts of Plutarch, called, The Notable Say of Princes, Captains, etc.  Philemon. 
I fancy this famous Author chose rather to relate the notable Say of the Lacedæmonians than other Greeks, because they spoke at Sparta in a more concise manner, and that these kind of expressions do more properly belong to what we call witty Say.  Erastus. 
And therefore the learned give too strict and short ways of speaking the name of Laconic stile. These Ladies will pardon me, I hope, for using this word Laconic, altho' it only means Lacedaemonian.  Belise. 
My ignorance reaches farther, and I confess I know not what means the word Stile, altho' I use it every day, and hear other people talk of it too. Derante should tell me what this word does strictly signify.  Dorante. 
You know perhaps, That Ink and Paper are of modern Invention. The Ancients made use only of Tables of Wax, or the Bark of Trees, and thereon engraved with a Pencil, which they called Style, as we writ with a Pen on Paper. So that by a figurative way of speaking, they said a Fine Style, as we say a Fine Pen, when we speak of the Writings of a good Author.  Belise. 
I am very glad to be informed of a word which is of so common use. Cleonice may now talk of her Lacedæmonians as long as she pleases.  Cleonice. 
I declare to you, that as to what regards this Conversation, the Lacedæmonians are not so much mine as you think for. I am not so much pleased with their notable Say as their notable Actions. However, I acknowledge I have remarked an Answer which is of good relish to me, though I cannot tell how you will like it.  
A man of Sparta, being at Table at the same time with a Persian, fell upon a discourse of war, which was likely to be between the two Nations. The Persian, proud of being under the Government of a Monarch who was called the Great King, and who held a vast Empire, would fright the Greek by giving him to understand the Power of his Master. We shall have an Army so numerous, said he, that the Arrows which we shall draw will darken the Sun. The Lacedaemonian taking nimbly his turn to speak, without any Commotion; So much the better, said he, for than we shall fight in the Shade.  Erastus. 
That which a Captain of this warlike Nation, answered, appears to me worth relating; The Lacedæmonians, says he, never ask whether the Enemy be numerous, but in what place they be.  Belise. 
I would willingly know wherein consists the beauty of notable Say?  Philemon. 
There needs only an Equivocation to make a jocose saying.  Belise. 
And oftener to make a pitiful quibble.  
About two Months passed I was extremely surprised with one of these Quodlibets. I was in the Country, where some of the women of the Neighbourhood came to see me. There was a young one who bore away the Bell for wit, she spoke much, and laughed yet more, and was mightily stored with Quibbles.  Cleonice. 
It's usual with these Quiblers to say, that a Scrivener is an obliging man, by reason of the many Obligations he makes.  Dorante. 
There was heretofore at Court a man who passed for a pleasant Companion, but I question whether his fancy would be so much approved of by the Court as it was by the City. You may judge of him by his Quibbles. An Abbot, who had perhaps more Ambition than Merit, would needs pretend to be made a Cardinal. He went to Rome for this purpose, but having taken wrong measures, he returned little satisfied with his Voyage. At his Arrival he went to make his Court, and appearing indisposed with a great Rheum, he was asked whence proceeded this indisposition? Do not you know, answered our witty Gentleman, that he came from Rome without an Hat?  Erastus. 
I have heard you tell another story of the same Courtier. He came from the Camp, which held a Town besieged, and which we did not take: This rare Wit was then sent to the King to give him an account of the condition of the Place and Army; so that all the Court was very earnest in demanding News of him. What say you of the Siege? say they. That she is very well, and gins to rise, answered he.  Philemon. 
I know that Erastus has an Aversion to Quibbles, and that the other day having quietly heard Timocrates utter many of them, he seemed at last to be angry at him for them. Now for my part, I am for letting them pass, and think myself obliged in some sort, to those persons who endeavour to divert me, although they prove not always fortunate in their undertaking. But I could never endure in History, that great men should make use of an Equivocation to break their word. Can we excuse that Captain, who by a Truce grants that no acts of Hostility shall be exercised for eight days, and immediately after shall send out Parties every night to ravage the Enemy's Country?  Cleonice. 
He may take this for a Warlike Stratagem, yet all the world will condemn his breach of Faith. We may call things how we will, but that will not hinder us from being infamous, if we under pretence of a Treaty, surprise our Enemies. I much blame your Captain, but do more detest the cruel perfidiousness of a Turk towards a Venetian. The latter of these surrendered himself, and the Capitulation bore, That his Head should be safe from all mischief. His Enemy had him no sooner in his power, but he made him be sawed asunder in the midst of his body. In the excess of his pain, the Christian invoked heavens Vengeance against so cruel a treachery. And the Infidel answered him, with a malicious smile, that he had no reason to complain, seeing his head was not touched.  Philemon. 
Have you observed one thing which I now remark? which is, That designing only to examine what may please in Conversation: We are gotten insensibly to Examples, wherein there are more Moral strokes than Maxims which respect an Entertainment. May we not be told that we vary from our Subject, and that we should retrench these digressions?  Dorante. 
I confess that a melancholy University Logic chopper might form a Quarrel hereupon, and charge us home with our digressions, requiring a Conversation dry, servile, and tiresome. But as to us who have a different relish, we will allow ourselves this liberty; and when any History or Tale may serve to recreate the austerity of Precepts, or make us more exact and cautious, we will gladly entertain it. Thus being instructed, if we are to make a Truce for eight days, we will take such measures as not to be deceived, we will express that it shall be for eight natural days of twenty four hours, wherein the nights shall be comprehended. But instead of troubling ourselves with justifying our citations, it's enough to allege that they please us; and if Philemon has any scruple hereupon, let him send it to some musty Pedant, and let him be pleased with us, as heretofore. I am so sure that he will be so, that I will reassume the discourse where it was broke off.  
Here's an equivocal word which heretofore surprised the whole world; or rather, here's a subtlety of extraordinary consequence. You know, that of the Scipio's there were two that bore the name of African; that the first vanquished Hannibal, and that the other destroyed Carthage. This last, the better to subdue Enemies who were so terrible to the Romans, made use of an Equivocation, or rather of a distinction which you will not find worthy of so great a man. The Carthaginians, finding themselves too weak to hold out long, offered to capitulate and surrender their Town; and Scipio promised them there should be no hurt done to their City. But scarce was he Master of it, but he caused the Fortifications of it to be destroyed. The Carthaginians cried out, that the Faith of the Treaty was violated; but for all that, Scipio failed not to levelly their Walls and Towers.  
He endeavoured afterwards to justify himself, and show that he had not broke his word. He represented to the Carthaginians, that the Romans did not confound the names of Town, and City. That the Body of the Citizens form the City, and that the Walls and other Edifices composed the Town. That he should have been displeased had the Inhabitants been ill treated; but more displeased, had he left the Walls and Fortifications entire, which could be of no use, but only to raise a Jealousy in the Roman People.  Erastus. 
I like not these Artifices to deceive People, and can yet less allow it in great People. But as for the distinction you now spoke of, I think it has been always used, and will be still so.  
The Athenians, fearing to be besieged, and subjected by the Persians, consulted the Oracle on the Resolution they were to take; it was answered, That the City must departed the Town, and save itself by wooden Walls. So that it was interpreted, that the Citizens should abandon a Town, which was not strong enough to secure them; and that they should get on board their Ships, to fly from the danger wherewith they were threatened. There is no body in this Room, but has heard talk of Paris in this double Sense. When we mean the Town, we say that Paris is every day embellished; and when we speak of the Inhabitants, the Body of which makes what the Ancients called City; we say, That all Paris is walking in the Park; That all Paris is gone into the Country in the beginning of Autumn.  Philemon. 
A man may speak a witty thing in making an allusion; as when we sport with words which refer to one another, when they are repeated, or the Sense of them varied.  
When the Marshal de la Meilleraie was Grand Master of the Ordnance, there were several Latin words engraven on the Cannon which we may explain in these terms.  
Here's the Key, when the Door is refused.  Belise. 
I like this allusion, and I find it grounded on a double refusal which may be made.  Cleonice. 
And I take a Cannon to be a terrible Key.  
It's true, according to Rabelais, that there is nothing more aperitive.  Philemon. 
Here's a sporting with words of another nature. It's said that a Soldier having not been orderly paid, had the insolence to complain, in this manner to one of our Kings: Sir, three words; Money, or discharge. The Prince, who was merciful, contented himself in returning this answer: Soldier, four; Neither one nor other.  Erastus. 
Shall we say nothing of Repartees, when Anacharsis furnishes us with so good an Example? This famous Philosopher was a Scythian; and a Greek, who had no other merit but that of being born in Greece, looking on him with envy, I acknowledge, said he to him, that the world has some esteem for thee; but it must be granted, that there is nothing more barbarous than thy Nation. Very well, said he; Then I am the Honour of my Country, and thou art the Shame of thine.  Cleonice. 
A Marquis who has ruined his Family, had the other day a bickering with one of his Neighbours, who is a thriving Person, and has lately bought a considerable Office. Is it for you, said the Marquis, to contend with me, who begin your Family? I begin mine, said he, but you end yours.  Erastus. 
This brings to my mind two Answers which you'll find are very ingenious; the first is of Phyrrus King of the Epirots, who being demanded which was the best Player on the Flute, Python or Cephisus? Polipercon is the greatest Captain, answered he; giving to understand that he was to judge of men of War.  
The other answer is of Count Maurice of Nassau. A Lady entreated him to tell her who was the first Captain of the Age? Count Maurice was unwilling to speak his mind on so nice a point; his Modesty did not permit him to name himself, and his Merit would not permit him to part with an Honour, of which he was worthy; so that seeing himself straitened, Madam, answered he at length, The Marquis of Spinola is the Second.  Philemon. 
I like this turn, and I think this second Answer is more ingenious than that of Phyrrus; the words of this Prince are one of these notable Say, which has more Morality than Sharpness of Wit, as well as that we have related of Charles the 5th. and Lewis the 12th.  
I believe our discourse would last a great while on this Subject, if we would relate whatever comes into our minds hereupon. It's better to take Coach, and go to the new Opera, for I have taken places.  
Scarcely were orders given to make ready the Horses, when Erastus reassumed the discourse in these terms.  Erastus. 
It must be acknowledged that Philemon has thought of a very agreeable thing. Every thing is new in the death of Achilles, and I do not question but there will be great croudings to see it the first time of acting. But whilst things are getting in a readiness, would it not be better to take up our discourse again on witty Say and remarkable Answers? And besides, do we not see that therein is to be found a continual variety, which cannot but please?  Dorante. 
I am so much of your mind, that I'll tell you of an answer worthy of Alexander. Darius asked a Peace of him, and offered him half of Asia, together with Ten Thousand Talents. Parmenio charmed with such an advantageous offer, Sir, said he to his Master, I protest, were I Alexander, I would gladly accept of these offers: And I too, if I were Parmenio, answered he.  Cleonice. 
How sparkish are these words, and how worthy of Alexander, of a Conqueror that will not terminate his ambition, but by the compass of the whole earth?  Belise. 
I shall admire as long as I live the ingenious answer which the Queen of Siracuse, Gelon's Wife, made. This Prince had a Breath strong enough to incommode those that came near him, his Favourite thought himself obliged to give him notice of it; and this Prince, angry that the Queen had never spoke to him of it, complained very much to her about it. How, (answered she, with a surprise, with which I am extremely taken) is it not the same with all other men?  Cleonice. 
This simplicity gives a great opinion of the Virtue of this Princess.  Philemon. 
But before we end this discourse, should we not have some Modern Instances? I profess I prefer 'em before the Ancients; and it is certain every body is more concerned in them. Here's one then with which our Ladies perhaps will not be too much satisfied.  
'Tis not above two or three years past, since a gallant man, whom we all know, and whom I shall call Themistus, became—  Belise. 
Ah! Philemon, I shall never forgive you this beginning of your Recital.  Philemon. 
I have committed a great fault then in few words, seeing there is no hopes of pardon for me. But may I be so bold to ask wherein I am so culpable?  Belise. 
Did not you say that you preferred the Modern Examples before the Ancient?  Philemon. 
I say so still.  Belise. 
And have you not added the reason, which is, that we are nearer concerned in what touches the Persons of our acquaintance, than in things which respect only Persons who have been dead several Ages?  Philemon. 
Most certainly.  Belise. 
Why then do you give a santastical name to a man whom we know? Are you afraid we should hearken too attentively; or that we should take too great a part in the adventure which you are minded to relate?  Philemon. 
You say well, that I should not have this fear, when I should have named the man whom you know. My discourse would not be so touching, as to produce so good an effect; but to speak freely to you, I was apprehensive lest I should raise raise up two Enemies against my friend. I believed that Cleonice and you would not fail to insult over him, in respect of an opinion he is prejudiced with, and which I am assured you'll both of you condemn before the world.  Belise. 
How! before the World! what will you increase our faults, by accusing us of dissimulation? What opinion then is this of your Friend's, let's know it?  Philemon. 
You shall know it, if you'll let me go on without interruption.  Belise. 
Say what you please, I shall not so greatly heed you, as to raise any more questions.  Cleonice. 
Am I no body? Am not I a woman? May I not have a little curiosity, though Philemon blame me for it?  Philemon. 
To repair the fault I have committed, I'll lay aside the story I was going to tell you.  Cleonice. 
Not so, if you please, for that will be worse; go on with it, pray.  Philemon. 
I'll tell you then, to satisfy you, that Themistus was carried into the company of a young Lady, whose sight struck him with great admiration. Celimene, let me so call her if you please, had but a very mean Fortune, with an extraordinary beauty, so that Themistus, who had immense Riches, made serious reflections on this sudden and violent engagement. He could take no rest, He found himself in a perpetual agitation, and feared above all, lest his passion, which he felt so violent in its beginning, would lead him, in fine, to the satisfying his desires, to the prejudice of his Fortune.  
He resolved to banish from his Soul so dangerous a tenderness, he opposed it all he could; and finding he could not immediately overcome it, he called in a sentiment of Glory to the assistance of his Reason. He had the strength to part far from what he loved, and to go a Volunteer into the Army; but he returned thence more amorous than he went. He visited his Mistress with greater joy, and a stronger desire; then blaming himself for his weakness, he made a second effort, and undertook a second Voyage, which was into Italy. He would try whether the divertisements would appease those inquietudes which the perils and fatigues could not allay, but the Carnaval of Venice was as little conducive to that purpose, as the Siege of Buda. Our Themistus appeared to me at his return more ardent and passionate than ever. My dear Philemon, said he, I lead a wretched life, I cannot forget Celimene, I have her always in my thoughts, and I see her continually before my eyes with all her Charms. In fine, added he, and this was his saying, In short I must marry her, that I may cease thus to love her. He married her in effect, and fifteen days of Marriage changed his violent and tumultuous Love, into a sweet and delightful Friendship.  Erastus. 
I profess I like the saying well, and let the Ladies take it how they please.  Cleonice. 
We cannot do better than follow a Maxim which you approve.  Belise. 
Your Friend was not so easily drawn into Marriage as my Uncle, who is married again lately. His Children made great complaints to him on the resolution he had taken of giving them a Mother-in-Law: They besought him to tell them wherein they had been so unhappy as to displease him, and entreated him to let them know what it was that offended him? I am so pleased with you, answered he, that I only marry again to have other Children like you.  Cleonice. 
I am much mistaken if your Cousins took this for a good saying.  Dorante. 
You know that the illustrious Person who has given such fine Conversations to the Public, yet was more pleased in doing a good Office, than in making a fine Book; so that you will not be surprised, if she used her most earnest endeavours in begging an employ for a young Gentleman who had been recommended to her. The thing depended on a great Lord who was one of her friends, and to whom she said a thousand good things of the person whose interests she prosecuted. The great Lord examined the person, he found him very fit, and that he wanted not sense; but he answered, he seemed too young for the business he was recommended. How, Sir, answered our generous Friend, will you repreach him with a fault, which we every day correct but too much against our wills?  
At the same instant as Dorante had said this word was brought that all was ready; the Company immediately arose, and set out to go to the new Opera. They law it with a great deal of satisfaction; but the application which Dorante had to it, hindered him not from examining more than once Lisidor's Countenance.  
He was desirous to observe the effect which a splendid sight might produce in the mind of a young man who had never seen the like. Cleonice consulted Lindamire's eyes for the same reason, and took notice that she and Lisidor concealed one part of their surprise. That they sometimes spoke, that they looked on the People of Quality which were in the Boxes; in a word, that they did not like those great wonderers, whose ignorance is the only cause of their astonishment.  
As soon as ever the Curtain was let down before the Theatre, Cleonice and Belise turned themselves towards Dorante, and asked him how he liked what he had heard and seen?  Dorante. 
I dare not give you my opinion of an Opera which I have but once seen. It's true I shall soon have an opportunity to satisfy your curiosity. Philemon has given the first sight of this Opera to Cleonice, Lisidor shall give the second to Lindamire; and perhaps he will admit us to bear him company.  Cleonice. 
Having said enough about this Opera, I would willingly have Dorante tell us in general, whether one may reprehend any one before people; and after what manner we may speak of a work that is criticised in a Company?  Dorante. 
I am of opinion that we ought to be very reserved in these occasions, but seeing you will have the Conversation turn on this Subject, instead of excusing myself, I will be the first to tell you my opinion of it.   

Entertainment XIII. Whether it be fit to reprehend any one in Conversation.  Dorante. 
THere are every day to be seen in Companies so many persons who commit faults, in respect of language, or good manners, that it will be an endless work for any man to set about correcting them. Were it not better for men to be easy in Conversation, to speak, and to let others do so too, than to be perpetual dictator's, to quarrel with people about words, to top every body, and strive only to run all others down? I should be greatly troubled, should Lisidor (he will let me cite him) fail in any essential point in Conversation; and my Remedy would be to take up the discourse, to enter on the opinion which he should be of, or to mention the expression which he should have used; yet I would not direct my discourse to him, lest I put him in confusion, and make a Fault observable, which perhaps one part of the Company took no notice of.  Cleonice. 
If one of your Friends, talking in Company, should use a manner of speaking little exact, or contrary to Custom, would you rather choose to leave him in his error, than make him know it?  Belise. 
For my part I believe it were fit to reprehend him.  Dorante. 
You might do it, yet with great caution, and moderation. If the Friend, you suppose, had a mind to buy Horses, and that he said, I desired Erastus who knows Horses— I would not interrupt him, and demand pertly of him, what Horses does he know, Coach Horses? On the contrary, I would make him note his fault, in saying thus; You cannot do better than to address yourself to Erastus, no body understands Horses better than he does.  
Should any one interrupt me unseasonably, and with little Civility, in these terms; What is that you say there, I do not know what you mean, and yet I may say I understand English well enough?  
I do not speak as I should do then, would I answer him, without showing any discomposure; or I would repeat again the same thing more at large, and in a clearer manner. I do not doubt but this moderation would produce two good effects. It would gain me esteem, and might soften the sharp humour of the person who controlled me.  Erastus. 
But should you have a work given you to examine, would not you freely speak your opinion of it?  Dorante. 
You will not be against my making a distinction on what you demand. Should I be thought able to give good advice, and a Manuscript were put into my hand before it went to the Press, I would speak ingenuously what I thought of it; and should think myself unworthy the confidence put in me, did I deal in another manner.  
Thus you see, I am not always so complaisant as you have taken me to be. I will tell you too moreover, that it is not long since that an Author found me as untractable in matter of Sonnets, as Moliere's Misanthropos. He shown me one full of Antitheses, wherein a Lover complained of the death of his Mistress; I could not bear with all his juggle, and impatiently interrupting the Reader; how, Sir, said I to him, will you have this man amuse himself in sporting with words, instead of bewailing his misfortune? This is so beside the subject, that I doubt I shall not have patience enough to hear it out to the.  Erastus. 
Let me tell you a story of a young Author, who came from a 〈…〉 of Guiea●e to Paris, 〈◊〉 printing a Plice for which he thought to gain the admiration of the Universe One of his Friends advised him to address himself to some ingenious man, and consult 〈◊〉 before he exposed his Book to be conticised by the public. This Country Author would by no means yield to this at first, thinking this advice fruitless for a Poem which had been approved in his Country, but at length he permitted himself to be led to Chapelain, apparently to acquire esteem for it, rather than to admit of corrections. He told him he came to show him an Epic Poem he had made at home, and that he would gladly hear so great a Master's opinion on his Work. To speak freely, answered Chapelain, you are to be commended for having undertaken so difficult a work at your Age, and in a Country so far from all assistance, which one might have at Paris. Sir, replied the Author, I will dedicate this Poem to the Marshal d'Albret. You cannot make a better choice, replied the complaisant Chapelain, the Marshal is a man of wit, and he is Governor of your Province. You will be near a Maecenas, who will relish your Writings, and give you his protection. After these words the Manuscript was opened, and the young Wit read about 50 or 60 Verses. This beginning was wide, and had no coherence with the Subject, so that Chapelain telling him, I see, Sir, you have thought fit to treat of things at first in general, to descend afterwards into particulars which more closely relates to your Subject. Ah! Sir, cried the young man, what satisfaction there is in consulting a person like you, you know already the scope of my Poem, as well as if I had read it all to you.  
No sooner was this said, but people came in, the lecture broke off, and our Author went out. He was so well pleased with the Visit he made, that turning himself towards him that had introduced him, you must acknowledge, said he to him briskly, that no first Book had so great success; I do not see how, answered his Friend, you can say that a Poem has succeeded before it comes abroad into the world, unless you do as the Marquis Moliere speaks of, who liked the Play before the Candles were lighted. To speak sincerely, Monsieur Chapelain has too great indulgence, and if you will be ruled by me, we will consult some one that has less.  
They then went to the Abbot d'Aubignac, and after the accustomed Civilities were passed, the young man told him that he had made an Epic Poem. So much the worse, replied the Abbot briskly, for I am sure you know not what an Epic Poem is, seeing that at your age you set about a thing which the most consummate Learned Men dare not undertake. This boldness shows me better than your accent from what Country you come. But, Sir, replied the Author, with astonishment sufficient, I composed this Work only to dedicate it to the Marshal d'Albret You could not worse address yourself, replied the Abbot. Do not you know that the Marshal d' Albret is one of the finest Wits we have? That he loves to rally, and that he will laugh at you and your Poem? He being Governor of our Province— For this very reason, replied impatiently the Abbot, you ought not to lay yourself open to him, and expose yourself to be the laughtngstock of your Country, but, Sir, replied again the young man, you speak of faults, without having seen any, harken, if you please, and you may better judge afterwards; he took then immediately a Sheet, and read it, without allowing the Abbot so much time as to interrupt him. But before he came to the sixth Verse the Abbot d'Aubignac being tired with hearing it, said with some sharpness to him, I would gladly know, Sir, says he, whether this be the beginning of a work of Piety or of a profane piece, of an History or Fable? But, Sir, a little more patience, till I— Pray tell me not of patience, answered the Abbot, Virgil, who perhaps knew as well as you the Rules of an Epic Poem, says immediately, that he sings the great actions of that Hero who came first from the Trojan Shores into Italy.  
The young Author, being as it were Thunderstruck, goes to Chapelain to comfort himself. Sir, said he to him, I am lately come from the most intolerable Critic in the world, who is the Abbot d'Aubignac, who would not so much as suffer me to read seven or eight Verses of my Work. He told me my beginning was not worth a straw, and that it had no relation to the Subject. I believe, answered Chapelain, that Monsieur the Abbot d'Aubinac is not wholly in the wrong; but however, the business is not past remedy, you can make another beginning, and keep that of your Poem for the first Work you shall make.  Cleonice. 
I like this management of beginnings, and I find no less agreeable this opposition of an excessive complaisance, and a severity that proceeds to extremity.  Philemon. 
I did not believe Chapelain of this humour, and I have had a very different account of it, from that which Erastus gives us. I was told that the deceased Count de Fiesque, coming from the Play, met Chapelain, and told him he had been greatly diverted with the sight of a Play he named him. Is it possible, Sir, answered him Chapelain, that so great a man as you, and who has so great wit, can behold with pleasure a Comedy wherein the Characters are not upheld, wherein the Actors come and speak, without knowing why, nor how; and, in fine, wherein there's not the observation of the least Rule? The Count was for reviewing the same piece with a greater application. He considered better of it, and went afterwards to Chapelain, pray, says he to him, restore me my ignorance, I was greatly diverted with the Play before, but now I take no delight in it.  Dorante. 
It is certain, that for our satisfaction, it is necessary we should behold sometimes the Plays on the Theatre with indulgence. Can a man divert himself with Harlequius' Emperor of the Moon, if in entering he leaves not his sound sense and Rules at the Door?  Philemon. 
Hereunto we may add, as I have already said, that it is dangerous being too complaisant, or too severe in the advices one gives. The Abbot d'Aubignac was perhaps the occasion of the young man's leaving Paris and his Studies; and on the other hand Chapelain might induce him to apply himself thereto with too great negligence, and without success.  
They enlarged themselves no farther on this subject, and the company judged it late enough to departed. Erastus, Philemon, Cleonice, Belise, and Lindamire went out, and returned home.  
A small time after Dorante and Lisidor supped, and still entertained themselves on the care which was to be observed in reprehending and criticising in Company.  Dorante. 
I believe a man should be less hasty to answer, when his advice is asked in relation to manners, and the ordering of one's life. Besides the presumption we show, when we give over hastily these kind of advices, it seems as if we were sure of the Event, and that we may be justly responsible, when the success answers not expectation. So that we must let others speak, especially if they have more experience than we, and let us not give in our opinions before we are asked more than once. If we be obliged to answer, let it not be too affirmatively, let us modestly utter the reasons which uphold our opinion, and show we not in our Countenances, nor Discourses, an air of Confidence, which may make us appear full of ourselves. I know you are not of an age to be consulted, and there is little likelihood that Old Men will need your advice, but young Persons may require it, and others too hereafter. Moreover I do not keep strictly to the giving you precisely the Precepts suitable to you; it will do you no hurt to know others, to the end that minding the persons who observe them, you will come the better to know the World. I doubt not but you are satisfied with the Company you have seen, they are extraordinarily well humoured and ingenious. You have taken notice how free they are, and remote from all constraint and affectation; you have seen nothing but what's easy, natural, and ingenious in what they say; it is this Air you must imitate, if you will please in Conversation.  Lisidor. 
I would willingly know wherein it consists; methinks it is very apparent, yet is hard to say precisely what it is.  Dorante. 
You have reason, and I know not whether I can satisfy your Curiosity.   

Entertainment XIV. Of the Air which it is fit we should have in Conversation.  Dorante. 
BUt instead of entering on a precise definition of a word, let's rather examine what may ragard Conversation in general. Your principal design is to please in the Conversation of the World, let's therefore see what may contribute to this Design.  
It is a great advantage to have a gallant Air, but it is an advantage which a Man can acquire but imperfectly by his endeavours. Nature must begin it in us, and we must afterwards cultivate these favourable dispositions. We may polish them, and perfect them by frequenting persons who have already this Air, if we imitate them in their Conversation, and manner of behaviour.  Lisidor. 
Is it not sufficient to please in Conversation, that we are able by our good Mien to give weight and relish to our words?  Dorante. 
A good Mien alone does not always produce this good effect; we see every day Country People, who are well shaped and of a good aspect, and yet are in no wise agreeable company. The Air I speak of, is the Soul of a good Mien; without this Air, it is very difficult to please; it is this gallant and polite Air, which renders every thing pleasing. It's seen on the Countenance, in Discourse, , at Table, House-hold-stuff, Equipage, and even in Buildings. Most young People strive to outdo one another in Gallantry, but they are less gallant than they think for. They do not moderate themselves enough, and their heat makes 'em carry things too far. The air of Politeness we speak of requires sweetness, and young people have I know not what that is brisk, which does not agree with the Character of a gallant man. You have observed that they are commonly too hasty in taking up what is newest in Modes, and that they seldom fail of going beyond the bounds which a gallant man should prescribe. Instead of a well contrived suit, they are for laying on the heavyest Lace or Embroidery they can get. If they give a Treat, they proceed to excess, and for their Equipage they are not contented with what's neat and fit, they add more Splendour than their Quality or Estate requires. They think of nothing but distinguishing themselves hereby, far from regulating their expense by their Revenue.  
Neither must a man, to render himself agreeable in Conversation, utter only subtle things, or out of the common Road. It is not necessary to show a great stock of Learning, and a vast deal of Wit. It is sufficient to speak with an easy air, and that nothing savours of affectation and constraint, as I have already recommended to you more than once. I was very glad that you saw so soon Cleonice, Belise and Lindamire. The two first have a very ingenious manner, which may contribute to make you get the same air and the same tour. you will never part from them without profiting either in your Understanding or Will.  
You will meet with few women whose Conversation is more agreeable, you may get by them such an air, as the reading of the best Authors; nor the most learned Conferences will never afford you. I likewise confess that I am not displeased at your seeing of Lindamire; it is natural for you to wish to please her, and it cannot be, having this design, but that you must endeavour to polish your mind, to make your humour sweet and insinuating, in a word, to acquire the qualities which may gain the esteem of Ladies. Moreover, the desire which one may have to touch the heart of a fine woman who has Quality and Merit, may serve as a preservative against a disorder wherein Persons of your age do too often fall. Not that I pretend you should bond your visits to Cleonice, and that being so young you should begin to sigh in form for Lindamire. When you have made two or three Campaigns, I will ask your sentiments hereupon, and I will tell you mine. However, I must needs acknowledge to you, that I should rather see you fixed on Lindamire, than any other person I know; but however I would not have this respect for her proceed so far as to hinder you from seeing other companies, and to make thence your observations of different humours. However I do not mean you should go from House to House, to flatter and make courtship to Ladies who will not be displeased with it. A man that makes this his business, will be so far from being respected as a gallant Person, that he will be accounted no better than an idle Fop.  
Now as to such directions as concern young men in general. Have you not observed they fall often into defects contrary to the manners of polite men? They laugh every moment so loudly that their laughter is in no sort like the subtle smiles observable in the Conversation of polite persons. They disengage Friends to draw them into other Companies, and instead of living respectfully with Women, they imagine it the best breeding to use 'em familiarly. That which I find strangest, is, that they sometimes proceed to swearing, like the rascally mean people.  
And yet it is not difficult to avoid these faults, and I wish you at no greater trouble in attaining the fine Air we spoke of. You have all the dispositions which can be desired, and I hope you will cultivate them with success.  Lisidor. 
I have been an hundred times surprised to hear say, that Melicrates, whom you know, is a polite Person, yet we all agree in our Country, that he is far from what we call politeness.  Dorante. 
There is much difference between a Man of great Air, and a man that has the Air great; and I add, that we must no more confound a gallant Man, with a Man gallant. The first has this Air gallant, so much talked of in France, and which answers in some sort to the urbanity of the Ancient Romans; the other may without politeness be a Woman's Gallant, or have an inclination to Gallantry in general. An old Man may please by the quality of Gallant Man, but he would be ridiculous if he made Gallantries in his old days.  Lisidor. 
I suppose that when we say that such a Man has a good Air, we praise him less, than if we attribute to him the Air great, or the Air Gallant.  Dorante. 
You need not doubt of it, and it is likewise certain, that the good Air agrees differently to the two Sexes, to all ages, and all professions. A Sword Man, has commonly an open and fierce Air, a Magistrate is grave; a Woman should have sweetness and modesty, but the Air great is the most rare; and sometimes among several Princes, we see few of 'em, whose Mien does denote the Elevation of his Rank. This is an advantage which we admire in the person of the great Monarch, to whom you shall be presented, when I shall find you used to Conversation, and the Manners of the Men of the World. I will carry you first to several Persons of the Court, to the end that going afterwards to Versailles, you appear there the less surprised, and that you may find persons to whom you may speak: It is there, more than in any place of the World, that you will meet with persons of all Airs which we have discoursed of. It is here that you will find more politeness and less Affectation, than in any Court in the World. Most here have the Air gallant, and there's scarcely any one but has a certain easy Air, which makes all the agreeableness in Conversation.  Lisidor. 
I profess I should have confounded this agreeableness you speak of with the Air Gallant.  Dorante. 
It's true, they are like enough to one another, and they both please almost in the same manner. Yet what we call agreeableness is more general, it suits with more things, it insinuates itself more sweetly, it reaches to the Heart and touches it. The Air gallant takes another course, it seizes on the Fancy, and gains esteem; but to speak in general, nothing can please in persons who have not a good Air. It's true, that one may in some sort obtain it, in being careful that ones action be free, and in acquiring a facility of speaking.  Lisidor. 
I knew a man who spoke with great facility, and yet who did not at all please. It was thought that he studied what he spoke, and I observed that this Opinion which the World had of him, did not contribute to the procuring him a Reputation. I would know whether you will condemn this kind of care?   

Entertainment XV. Whether it be good to prepare ourselves for common Conversations.  
THe Reading every day of Books, and the People whom we every moment converse with, may serve as an insensible and continual preparation for the Conversations wherein chance may engage us. It is by these two ways that our Memory enriches itself with infinite notices, which she imparts to us afterwards in occasions wherein we may need them.  Lisidor. 
I know that the memory has been ever considered, as a Treasurer to whom we must give a Fond, if we will draw thence the assistances we need.  Dorante. 
This is the justest comparison we can make of it; when we learn things agreeable or instructive, we only intrust them to our Memories, this is a pledge which she keeps only to restore it. She does as the Steward of an House, who receives the Revenue of his Master, only to pay away what is demanded. But both one and the other must be faithful, and there would happen a troublesome disorder, if the Memory retained not enough, and the Steward retains a little too much.  
I know not how it comes to pass that I am fallen on sporting with words. It's not my custom to do it, and tho' it has come in naturally enough, yet many will condemn it as a point of affectation.  Lisidor. 
The niceness of these people would be troublesome, your conception is grounded on the truth, and the term, whose repetition makes the sport, suits equally with the Steward, and the Memory. But to return to the question, Do you believe it is sufficient to prepare one's self in general, as you now said; or do you not think it good, that I should prepare myself on certain Subjects, which are likely to be the entertainment of the Company where I may chance to be?  Dorante. 
If you desire to have matters ready for all sorts of Conversations, you will without doubt set upon Collecting all the remarkable things you read or hear related. You will reduce these observations to a certain Order. On one side you will set down Tragical Events. Thrones overturned, strange Deaths, Misfortunes unforeseen, and, in general, whatever you find most Tragical. On the other hand you will collect the happy Successes, as surprising Marriages, unexpected Promotions, in a word, whatever has happened that is pleasing in the Revolutions wherein Fortune has been pleased to favour those she loves. If being well provided, you go and recount your lamentable stories in an afflicted House; will your long Narrations be suffered in a Chamber wherein silence reigns, wherein is nothing seen but pale Countenances, and nothing heard but sighs and Groans? I believe they will be filled with indignation, to see you so little sensible of the misfortune which has happened to them; and if their grief will permit them to see you want no memory, will they not likewise see too that you want judgement? Without doubt you'll administer great consolation to a Woman whose Husband is lately assassinated; if you represent to her, that the first Empress of Rome suffered heretofore a more considerable loss. That it was when Caesar was stabbed in the Senate, and that this great Man knew among his Murderers, persons whom he tenderly loved. Should not I have made a very diverting recital in dining at philemon's, had I set to talking of the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, and the Festival of Cleopatra? If we would affect persons agitated with any Passion, we must entertain them only with adventures wherein they may take part, and reserve Historical Events for certain Conversations, which we may term sedate ones, or those which may be called Conferences.  
To reurn to the distinction which I am obliged to make, I must say, that in certain occasions you may prepare yourself for common Discourse, tho' it were perceived that you have studied what you shall say. In effect, if there comes Ambassadors from far distant Countries, and little known, you will easily imagine that this will be discoursed of in Companies where you may chance to be, and that you will not do amiss to instruct yourself in a matter which will be the entertainment of an infinite number of People. So that you will be pleased to see in a Map, the extent and situation of the Country whence these Ambassadors come. You will read in some Relation of Travels, the strength and Government of the Nation, you will endeavour to find out the Interest she has to seek our Alliance, or to have our Assistance or our Commerce.  Lisidor. 
May not one likewise discourse of the different Formalities to be observed in the Reception of Ambassadors, according to the different States who send them, or according to the higher or lower Rank of the Ambassadors? I have heard say, that the Chief of the last Embassy of Muscovy, called himself Prince, and even a Kinsman of the Czars. But I confess to you, I know not what this Word Czar signifies, which yet I pronounce very boldly.  Dorante. 
You must know then that the great Duke of Muscovy is not content with the Title of Emperor, but takes even that of Caesar, which the Muscovites pronounce Czar, this suppression of a Letter is common enough in all sorts of Languages, whether to sosten the pronunciation, or render it less languid, by straightening the words.  Lisidor. 
Methinks the Name of Caesar, which gives a great Idea, is not so long that it needs to be abridged, and I did not observe that we take in our French Words the liberty you speak of.  Dorante. 
You have not then examined them, but you will change your sentiments, when you will hear say, Seurin and Merry, for Severin and Mederic. But I cannot excuse our Tongue, when she changes or abridges fine Names to make them disagreeable, as Thibaud of Theobald, Thierri of Theodoric, and Alix of Adelaide. I could cite you likewise the Names of several Houses and Towns which we pronounce otherwise than they are written, but our Business is not to enter on these particulars, it being better to return to the Advices which I began to give you.  Lisidor. 
I had already profitably used that relating to Ambassadors. When the Algerins came to make their Submissions to the King; I sailed not to instruct myself in what might be said of these Pirates, on their little State, their Government, their Ships, and the Forces of their Militia, which they dare call invincible.  
I had less pains in informing myself on the Riches and Commerce of Genoa, the Magnificence of those Palaces, which make her have the Title of Proud, and I especially enquired into the Authority of the Doge, seeing he was the Chief of the Republic, whom she was obliged to send into France. You may easily judge I had not the same facility in learning of the Kingdom of Siam what I would know of it. But the Embassy which came from so far a Country, being too extraordinary, not to be the subject of all Conversations, I read Relations enough, to find wherewith to make myself be harkened to in speaking of the Siamoises.  Dorante. 
I am very glad you need not much of my advice in this matter; I shall only advise you to recall every Night the Ideas of what you have heard say, that is most agreeable and most instructive, and to examine after what manner, or by what discourse, certain Persons have had the opportunity of pleasing, in the time when others could not be heard, tho' they were brim full of discourse.  
But here's enough for to night, it is time to end this Discourse, and to leave one another. You shall have brought you to Morrow Morning wherewith to  you handsomely, and it is fit that Erastus, who is to come to take us with him, should find you ready to go along with him. We will go and see persons of great distinction, and to whom I would very gladly have you go sometimes. You must be presented to them by Erastus, he can recommend you in such a manner, as is not proper for me to do, and I am sure he will have no less Address than Affection, when he is to do you good Offices.  
After these words Dorante left Lisidor, and went into his Chamber.   

Entertainment XVI. That to please in Conversation, a Man must be Master of his own humour.  
THe next Morning Dorante was with Erastus, and Lisidor at the Prince Viridatus', where was commonly the rendezvous of the most most ingenious and polite young Gentlemen of the Court.  
Viridatus offered Lisidor all the Civilities which Dorante could expect, and directed often to him his discourse, altho' he had a great deal of Company that day with him. I know not, said he to him, with an obliging Air, whether you have not left in your Province something which your Heart may regret; but I am much mistaken, if this Country does not afford wherewith to comfort one, for whatever he may have left in others.  Erastus. 
It's certain, there's nothing which can make Life easy, and even pleasant, but comes to Paris from all the Countries of the World, yet methinks we must except a certain kind of Liberty which one has in little Towns for Conversation and Behaviour.  Viridatus. 
But what advantage can one make of a Liberty which leads to nothing? Is it worth the constraint which contributes to our Fortune?  
At these words, a person of Quality, named Pharnacius, took up the Discourse, and answered Viridatus in these terms.  Pharnacius. 
I know not how a Prince of your humour can approve a way of living, which is regarded as a continual torture. What, I shall never have the pleasure of speaking my real sentiments? Were I grossly Ignorant, should I be obliged to praise the Sciences before Viridatus; to declare myself against them, how able soever I were, if I would please honest Timophanus? Is there any grandeur, which a Man pays not too dear for, if it be bought at this price?  Viridatus. 
You will be more surprised, if I tell you, that this kind of constraint, which you represent to yourself so dreadful, gives more satisfaction than vexation. And in effect, is it for the sake of Timophanus, and Viridatus, that you commend or discommend the Sciences? Is it not for your own sake, that you accommodate yourself to the Humour of the persons from whom you expect good Offices? Do you take for dissimulation a stroke of prudence which requires you to seem to enter into the sentiments of a Man whom you would very willingly draw into yours; when your interests require it? For my part I think you have right to applaud yourself, when you can insinuate yourself into opposite humours; what pleasure is it, in discoursing with a Learned General, to cite the Instructions which Aristotle gave to Alexander, the Elequence which made Caesar famous before his Conquests, and the Politeness of Scipi●, to whom it's said Terence owes that which appears in his Works. When on the contrary, we entertain ourselves with a Warrior who has nothing but his courage; do we not take a fit course in mentioning only Captains, the single impetuosity of whose courage has made their Men victorious?  Dorante. 
We may call that Man happy that has this suppleness of humour, and when Nature refuses it, we should esteem the persons who endeavour to acquire it. Had I a Patron of a dumpish, restless, and suspicious humour, I would not accost him with an open smiling air: And should I go to a young Prince who loved pleasures, I would not carry a Countenance whose Melancholy and Austerity would seem to condemn all joy.  Lisidor. 
I know not whether this be not an approving of inequality and uneven tempers in maintaining such an opinion.  Dorante. 
A Change which is grounded on reason, cannot be called inequality; we see every moment, that the commerce of Life requires that we speak differently in the same day. I should be wanting in civility, if I did not go and rejoice with a Friend who had married advantageously, and I should yet commit a more considerable fault, should I not appear sensible of the afflictions of one of my Relations who had just lost his only Son. A Man that will only live for himself alone, and take no part in what may happen to others, must renounce the World, and retire with his indolency into solitude. Shall I go into a Company to show there a Passion contrary to that which reigns therein? Must I discover a mien which condemns the Sentiments with which the Company is prepossessed?  Viridatus. 
Nothing is more opposite to the Maxims of the civil Society than this Conduct, and a person who shall obstinately follow it, will be in danger of never getting Friends. All the Ancients have admired the easy humour of Alcibiades, and we still wonder that a Man could so well accommodate himself to the different manners of Countries where he lived. Nothing was so much talked of at Athens, as his Eloquence and Gallantry. Among the Persians he was always feasting, and nothing was seen more splendid than his Dress and Equipage. But he passed over to other opposite Manners, when he was obliged to go to Sparta. The most rigid Lacedaemonian led a Life less austere than his Pharnacius: It's certain, that Alcibiades was not content with following the divers Customs of Nations, but he moreover distinguished himself by a more exact regularity in practising them.  Erastus. 
We may regard the Conduct of this famous Greek, as a Complaisance of Manners, if one may speak thus. This is a quality which gains mightily on the People. It is necessary for Persons who travel, and are designed for Embassies; yet we may justly say, that this Complaisance of action is neither so necessary nor of so frequent use as the complaisance of words. We have every moment occasions of yielding to the Opinions of Persons whom we have a design to please, and it seldom happens that we are obliged to quit our Modes and Customs, to take those of Strangers.  Viridatus. 
Methinks we should not regret the time spent, in learning how to enter delicately into the sentiments of others.  Dorante. 
Herein appears the address of the men of the World. They never approve, without endeavouring to justify the approbation they have given; so that their Reasons cannot be disagreeable to those whose side they take; they testify to the rest of the Company that there's neither affectation nor flattery in their discourse.  Erastus. 
To return to our subject, we may say, that tho' we be Masters of our humour, yet we must never abuse this power, in betraying our Sentiments, in maintaining an error, or in giving praises to words or actions which do not deserve it.  Pharnacius. 
But if you follow your own opinion, if you praise only things praiseworthy, and you take no party which you cannot justify by reasons, what violence do you offer yourself, and wherein do you appear Master of your humour?  Erastus. 
When I sacrifice it to that of others, when I renounce my own will to accommodate myself to others, to whom I am willing to give tokens of my submission. I will undertake a Journey which shall be proposed to me, in a time wherein I would rather choose to lie still; and I shall suffer myself to be engaged in a splendid divertisement, which will cast me into an expense and trouble which I should have been very glad to avoid. Thus my actions will show the deference I have; my words, and even silence will give no small tokens of it. If a Prince, whom I would not willingly displease, commends an ill Man, that has disobliged me, and whom he does not well know, I will overcome my resentment, and add to a motion of generosity, a submission which will make me silent, when I cannot be of the same opinion of a person whom I will not offend.  Viridatus. 
It seems to me that it should be chief to Women that a Man should subject his humour, there being many Capriccios to be born from them. As the greatest part among them do not strive to be over Constant, so we do not make our Court right to them, if we do not change with them; yet see how far their lightness leads. It being to the handsomest among them to whom we chief endeavour to render ourselves agreeable, from them therefore we must expect to suffer most. Besides, that they have no less inconstancy, it is certain that the continual flatteries wherewith they are fed, make them generally more vain, and less equitable.  Dorante. 
Yet I should think, that having the Charms you speak of, they should be so well satisfied as to have their spirits less envious, and more quiet.  Lisidor. 
Moreover we are naturally led to use a deference to Persons that please us.  Viridatus. 
I am much mistaken, Lisidor, if Nature alone has showed you that it is of her you have the inclination you speak of. Some fine Lady or other has opened your eyes on what you feel. However, I must not yet pretend to be your Confident; and I well know that in the first engagements we are pleased with making a mystery of every thing.  Pharnacius. 
Your Conjectures perhaps are better grounded than you think. There is a very lovely young Woman come to Erastus, for whom already I am told Lisidor sighs.  Viridatus. 
I know it, and will undertake that he will sigh no longer than Dorante and Erastus shall think fit. You speak of a Sister of Cleonice, that is very young and handsome. Erastus can tell us news of her, whilst we are making ready to go to his House, to see whether he gives us a faithful relation.  Erastus. 
I will not tell you that Lindamire is Old, Cleonice who is her Eldest Sister will never forgive it. Yet I will acknowledge to you she will soon be fourteen, and I know not whether this Age can well suit with a Lover that has seventeen, and who is not to be Married before he be twenty.  Viridatus. 
This agedness will be intolerable both to the one and the other; but will you tell us whether Lindamire be as disagreeable as she is Old?  Erastus. 
It belongs not to me to answer this question. Lisidor can better satisfy your Curiosity.  Dorante. 
Yet he has less seen Lindamire than you have.  Erastus. 
He has seen her less, but he has better beheld her.  Lisidor. 
After the War which has been made me, I dare not speak of Lindamire. The praises which I should give her will be suspected, and if I speak things as I feel them, I may make them be felt likewise by others, and that is what I shall avoid, if you please.  
At these words Viridatus embraced Lisidor, and spoke to him in this manner.  
Viridatus. If we judge of you by the dispositions you have, and by the continual Entertainments you will have with Dorante and Erastus, a Man needs not be a great Divine to say you will be one of the finest Men of the Court.  Erastus. 
I must needs say that Dorante and I find no less our reckoning in the conversation of Lisidor, than Lisidor can draw advantage in ours. At his arrival from a far Country, we hear him at Paris with as much attention and pleasure, as they would have in his Province, in speaking of a Polite man of this Town.  Viridatus. 
I believe Dorante is much troubled at it.  Erastus. 
You may judge, and I can assure you I am so too, although I be not Lisidor's Kinsman.  Viridatus. 
You respect him as Dorante's Nephew, but it will not be long before you have other reasons to espouse his interests.  
Scarcely had they ended these words but other company came in; Dorante, Erastus, and Lisidor dexterously got away, and were no sooner in their Coach, but Erastus demanded of Dorante, how he intended to spend the rest of the Morning?  Dorante. 
In visiting the Prelate whom you know: But there are reasons for Philemon's being of the Company.  Erastus. 
We need only go and take him up, we shall find him undoubtedly at home, for he expects I should send him word whether we shall go together to Versailles: For Lisidor we shall not consult him on the visits he would make, till he has acquaintances by himself, and separate from yours.  Lisidor. 
However the good dress I am in reproaches me, that I have not yet returned thanks to Cleonice for the pains she has taken.  
I know, answered Erastus smiling, that you are very thankful, when you have  bought you; and having a Compliment in your head, which you would be gladly eased of, I need only bid my Coachman drive home. He shall go afterwards for Philemon, and so every body will be pleased.  
They were no sooner arrived, but that they light at the door, sent the Coach to Philemon, and went up to Cleonice's Apartment. Madam, said immediately Erastus in presenting Lisidor, here's a Gentleman who tells me he is ready to die with desire to see you. I bring him to you, and with the less constraint, in that I am sure he came not wholly to admire you.  Cleonice. 
Methinks you might have a better opinion of me.  Erastus. 
I confess it, but it were well if Lisidor had not so good a one of Lindamire.  Lisidor. 
You see, Madam, that I am not so much as allowed the time to thank you as I ought. I am continually set upon, to see after what manner a Man of my age can disengage himself; however I have a better Office done me than is imagined. The sentiments which I have are made known, which I dare not declare myself.  Cleonice. 
You cannot have any that can be disapproved, and therefore the assistance which you say is given you, is not necessary to you.  
In this moment Lisidore and Lindamire could not forbear looking on one another and blushing; Cleonice observed it, and resumed the discourse, to turn the conversation on another subject.  Cleonice. 
It is not possible that you have made your visits. You have put them off till another day, or not met with those you went to see.  Dorante. 
We come from Viridatus, and we expect Philemon to go together to a Prelates, where a business which we have calls us. I am pleased to see the surprise wherein Lisidor will be, in hearing Erastus' discourse learnedly on the most serious and important matters, having as yet only seen him in his merry humour. I wish you had heard him the other day on the new Conversations of France, you—  Erastus. 
I read, on this subject, a Manuscript, which is going to the Press, and the opinion I had of it, made me say things which Dorante finds extraordinary in a Man of my humour.  Cleonice. 
That which you now say puts me on a reflection whence I may draw some profit. You gave some days past Maxims for Conversation, and you said nothing of what is most important therein. Which is to know after what manner one should talk of what respects Religion.  Dorante. 
You have reason, Madam, and we cannot better spend the time we have, than in making some observations on so considerable a matter.   

Entertainment XVII. That we must speak reverently of Holy Things.  Erastus. 
I Know not any man that loves mirth better than I do; I will have it reign in my House, and I endeavour to inspire it whithersoever I go, and I every where affirm it to be the best and most universal remedy that we can use in our misfortunes. Yet I may say there's no body has more aversion to libertinism I look on it as a Rock that we must avoid, and I shun a Libertine, as a man infected with the Plague. Not that I fear his pretended reasons will make any great impression on my mind, but that I scorn them, and am ashamed to be seen with them, as imagining them worse than Beasts.  Cleonice. 
I believe that those who speak little respectfully of Religion, and who scoff at the things they ought to reverence, are led to this extravagance only by a ridiculous vanity. I believe they would distinguish themselves, and that they intent only to show their wit in maintaining particular opinions, contrary to such as are generally received. Yet perhaps this irregularity passes not over into their Morals.  Erastus. 
However this is true, that there is no better preservative against all sorts of irregularities than Religion.  
That which hinders Women from being drawn as often into this disorder as Men, is, that they do not so soon lose the impressions of Piety, which we all receive in our Education.  Cleonice. 
The ignorance wherein we are kept, the modesty which is every moment recommended to us, and the continual submission wherein we spend our life, are advantageous to us, in that they contribute to what we ought to believe, and therefore thank God it is not us that are charged with being the Authors of Heresy.  Lindamire. 
I have heard talk of a Sect lately discovered at Rome.  Cleonice. 
I have always had a desire to entreat Dorante to relate to me the chief particulars of it, but I forgot till now to mention it to him. This occasion of doing it offers itself too naturally to neglect it. Will you refuse Dorante to let me know wherein this Heresy consisted?  Dorante. 
You well judge, Madam, that I will do what you please, yet you must permit me not to enter on particularising the errors which the Quietists followed.  
For thus were those called who embraced this Sect. They drew this name from the Rest they pretended to enjoy when they had raised their Souls to contemplation by the means of a Prayer they recited. They held it was sufficient for them to make an Act of Faith, and set themselves in the presence of God, and to rely wholly on his Providence. This was methinks a good way to draw abundance of People; whether that being lazy they choose rather to yield themselves up after this manner that they may not act; or that they had the vanity to believe themselves capable of well contemplating. If Women, as you now say, are not the Authors of Heresies, yet we see 'em ready enough to follow those they are taught, as either being desirous of new things, or suffering themselves to be taken with the fine appearances wherewith the Errors which are proposed be generally disguised. However it be, several Persons of your Sex followed the opinions of Molinos the chief of the Quietists. It is true this Spaniard passed for a Saint before he was discovered to be an Heresiarch. You know, Madam, that he has abjured his Errors, and that he is shut up for the rest of his life.  Erastus. 
One may in a Conversation relate the History of an Heresy, recite the establishment of it, the progress and decay of it, for there is none but we have seen destroyed in the end.  Dorante. 
However we should never mix with these relations, any thing which may make these Novelties relish. They are sometimes more dangerous than the opinions of Libertines. To convince these latter, I need only entreat them to consider the course of the Sun, the motions of the Stars, and the productions of the Earth. They will see that Man could not set that Order which we admire in the Universe, he that cannot regulate so much as a simple digestion in himself, and who has been so long ignorant of the circulation of the blood in his own Veins. Must it not be acknowledged that he who so well governs so vast a Machine, must needs be a wise and infinitely powerful Being; and if he be such a one as we say, can we refuse him our adorations? I would willingly know after what manner we should regulate the worship which should serve to testify our acknowledgement and our submission? Must this be the fancy of some frantic Enthusiast, or by the Pious Maxims of great and holy Personages which have been always in the Universal Church? This matter is too fine and large to be included in our Entertainments. Instead of engaging ourselves therein, it is sufficient to make known to you in few words, that it is no hard matter to shut the mouths of the Libertines, provided they prefer not their obstinacy to the reasons wherewith one may convince them.  
However I would not have those who maintain the right side to appear puffed up with their advantages; they must speak with good sense, with respect, and without sharpness and ostentation.  
Whilst Dorante ended thesewords, Erastas' Coach was heard to come before the Door, and presently Philemon and Belise entered into Cleonice's Chamber.  Philemon. 
You expected me alone, and I bring my Spouse with me. She comes to stay with Cleonice, if we go to Versailles, where I know that Dorante and I shall meet with a Prelate whom we design to see this Morning.  Erastus. 
We shall do better to eat what may be presently ready, and to go all together. I will leave you to do your business, and make your Court as long as you please, and I will take care to satisfy the curiosity of Lisidor, and Lindamire.  
The Company having consented to what Erastus proposed, such orders were given as were fit for so small a journey.  Philemon. 
I must tell you, that Belise's coming has occasioned me to make you stay so long, and I entreat you to pardon me, if I did not know that as long as you be together we shall never believe you in danger of being weary.  Cleonice. 
It's true that Dorante has entertained us in an elegant and easy manner, on a very nice and important subject. He has showed us in what terms and after what manner we may speak of our Religion, and I am so satisfied with it, that I wish Belise had had her share in the Entertainment.  Philemon. 
Perhaps she would have had less pleasure than you imagine: For it is certain it is not for discourses of this kind that she has the greatest curiosity.  Belise. 
My ignorance is the cause. I am ever afraid that it would cast me into errors, however good my intentions may be. But you know I am not so fearful in other matters. I speak with a tone of assurance of the Customs of People, and the Government of States, when I enter on the politic humour you so often twit me with.  Cleonice. 
Ah, Belise, you are then bolder than I am; for I confess, that of the three sorts of distinct Governments, I dared never speak of any but the Monarchical. Neither would I hazard myself in pronouncing the names which relate to the different Republics we know.  Belise. 
And I say audaciously Aristocracy and Democracy, and without Vanity I have not been four months a learning these two words.  Cleonice. 
For my part I should be three years on resolving whether I should speak them, and after so long a term, I believe I should remain still irresolute.  Erastus. 
Let's leave these jests, if you please, and whilst Breakfast is getting ready, let's entertain ourselves with a Science which Belise and all great Persons prefer before others.  Belise. 
Rally as much as you will; but if Dorante will take my part, I will consent that he shall talk alone, and you will see whether my opinions be ill maintained.  Cleonice. 
We like this expedient well, and Dorante, never refusing to comply with his friend's proposals, he will accept your offers, and we shall thereby be gainers.   

Entertainment XVIII. That State affairs must be discoursed of with great reservedness.  Dorante. 
I Will speak then, seeing you enjoin me, and will first say that I put a great difference between Foreign affairs and those which relate to us. We may speak our opinions touching the Government of other Nations with as much boldness as Belise does, supposing we understand the Interests and Maxims of them. But when we are pleased to discourse on the State under which we live, we should never extend our conjectures too far, nor affect to appear too penetrating. You know nothing does more contribute to the happy success of an enterprise, than the secrecy observed therein. The Captains themselves whom the King chooses to execute his designs, commonly know what they are going about, and learn it only by the Orders which they must not open, but at certain times, and in certain places. After such exact precautions, can our affairs be mentioned with an affirmative tone? Dare we reason on uncertain conjectures? Persons of good sense never talk of these matters but with great modesty, and for my part I can only forgive this imprudence in Persons who are incapable of making any reflection. How many do we hear every day censuring that Government which they do not understand, they make War and Peace according to their Fancy, and wholly busy themselves in hearing News, and modelling the affairs of State, when their Families at home are perhaps ready to starve for want of Bread.  
It's true, that since the King has so considerably increased his States, the Government is not so much spoke against.  Philemon. 
I would willingly know whether there can be found any appearance of reason for the not admiring it. Foreigners are no less surprised than ourselves at what passes every day in this Kingdom. We may cite, as a kind of Miracle, the Conjunction which we have seen made of the Canal of Languedoc with the Sea: The stately Building in the Plain of Grenelle deserves no less our admiration, than the magnificence we see at Versailles, and the security which is now at Paris and all the rest of the Kingdom.  Dorante. 
Whereunto we may add those incomprehensible Machine's at Versailles which triumph over Nature, and force Rivers to take Beds where the imagination cannot conceive they can ascend.  Belise. 
I will tell you then, that if the King was not our Master by the right of his Birth, and that it was permitted us to choose a Sovereign, his merit would immediately claim the Sceptre which he holds from the Salic Law.  Cleonice. 
What a pleasure you have done me in citing this Law, which I have heard termed a fundamental one of the State. It is so often mentioned, that I would willingly know what may be said particularly of it.  Erastus. 
I believed, Madam, that having read the History of our Nation, you are sufficiently instructed in this matter.  Cleonice. 
I know that this Law takes its name from the Saliens, a considerable People among the Ancient French; or that it is called Salic, because it was published near the Banks of the River Sala. I have also observed, that this Law has three parts relating to the Government: The first requires the State to be Monarchical. The Second, that it be successive. And the Third, at which I am not a little grieved, deprives the Persons of our Sex of the succession to the Crown. It's said 'twas Pharamont who instituted this Law, but I wish any one would tell me the reasons he had thus to regulate the Sovereignty of our Nation; to the end that if I should speak of it before Belise, she might not laugh at my ignorance.  Erastus. 
I am to tell you, Madam, that Belise, and the rest of the Politicians of our time, are persuaded that the Salic or Ripary Laws respect only the Justice and Policy which is to be observed among the French, and that they speak in no sort of the Sovereign administration of affairs. They affirm, that the Law, which requires the State to be Monarchical, and to be ordered in the manner we now related, was never written but in the hearts of the People. They pass farther, and believe there never was any Pharamont. They ground themselves on that Gregory of Tours, who wrote the History of the French, speaks not a word of Pharamont, and it is certain that he would never have failed to mention a Prince, who was the first King of the Nation, of which he had undertaken to leave us the most considerable adventures. Belise will inform you of several other particulars.  Belise. 
What can I not say? However I am willing you should treat me as if I were not knowing, and you should tell me the reasons which Cleonice requires of you, that I may see whether you can justify what so famous a Law enjoins.  Philemon. 
Have you not apprehension that your Policy will make us exceed the bounds which our Entertainments prescribe?  Belise. 
Why fear it? Do we not grant the liberty of talking on all sorts of subjects? And would you have the principles of a Science omitted, which places a man above multitudes of others? I hope the Company will punish you, and oblige you to speak the first your opinion on the Monarchical State. Do you prefer it to other Governments?  Philemon. 
I find you very forward, in that you will not expect till the Assembly authorises what you enjoin; but I see 'tis time ill spent to correct you, and that it it is better submitting to you. I will tell you then, Madam, that one may soon determine ones self on this subject. We must be for Monarchy, and consider there is more ease and security in obeying one Master, than if we were constrained to acknowledge several.  
It is certain, that Divisions do easily get among persons who share the Sovereignty, and that it is very difficult keeping a secret among them; judge then what we may fear from one and the other. Moreover, a King is too much accustomed to grandeur, to appear giddy headed with it; whereas it is but too often seen, that Citizens, who are immediately Exalted to the Throne, become intolerable through their pride.  Belise. 
Well, you have said enough, pray now let's see whether Erastus will declare himself for the Regal succession, or for Elective Kingdoms. What say you, Sir, do you judge the People in a better condition who have a right to choose their Sovereigns, than those who are obliged to receive them, for better for worse, from the hands of Nature?  Erastus. 
You do not consult me on a Matter difficult enough to gain me any credit, and there is no body but may easily determine himself herein. We see it seldom happen, but that the presumptive Heir of a Kingdom is Educated according to the Rank which he must one day possess. Such sentiments of Clemency and Equity are inspired into him, as may contribute to the People's happiness; whereas the like Education is not bestowed on particular persons, who are too far distant from the Throne, to make it thought that they will one day possess it. Judge of the Factions which are formed for an election of this importance; and into what wars these factions may draw the People. These troubles are not feared in successive Kingdoms, therein happens no change. If a King dies, his Son takes his place, and several Reigns appear but one continued Reign.  
It is not to be supposed, that only persons remarkable for their virtues are chosen, and in whom there can be found no fault, seeing these persons use all their industry to dissemble and hid their Vices, and to adorn themselves with qualities becoming their ambition: But when they have gotten their aim, and have nothing more to desire or fear, they then throw off their masks, and abandon themselves to all manner of dissoluteness. I could give a great many Examples of this, but you will find enough in the Roman History, if you will take the pains to read it.  Belise. 
You see, Dorante, that I have reserved the difficultest partion you, according to my mind, seeing it now lies upon you to tell us by what reasons the Salic Law could exclude Women from succeeding their Fathers, and deprive them of what Nature allowed them.  Dorante. 
It troubles me, Madam, that I am not so sensible of the honour you do me, and to tell you that the Salic Law had an admirable foresight in this third part which you condemn. If this Kingdom should fall into the Feminine Line, and we saw a presumptive Heiress of the Crown, to what misery should we not be reduced? In effect, should it happen that the Princess would choose a Husband among her Subjects, those who expect this honour, would make strong Parties, and carry things to a greater extremity, than in Elective Countries, seeing the prize is no less than a Crown, which would pass to their Descendants, and remain for ever in their Family. He that has the good fortune to be preferred, will be so unhappy as to be hated of his Rivals, the greatest Men at Court, and who will never faithfully serve him. If on the contrary, the Heiress of a Kingdom should cast her eyes on a neighbouring Prince, to bestow on him her Heart, and her Sceptre; we should fall under the domination of a stranger, our Monarchy would become a Province of his States.  
Thus, Madam, you see you have no reason to complain of the injustice done your Sex, you must rather think this was ordered for the best; seeing hereby is prevented all those dismal Revolutions which I have now denoted to you.  Belise. 
I must needs acknowledge you have satisfied me with your Reasons, although they be not very favourable to Ladies. I believe that Cleonice is in the same sentiment, and that she is not troubled that I have been so curious.  Cleonice. 
You shall see that I will not be behind hand with you in another kind. You have declared yourself an able Politician, and I must declare to you, that I have particularly applied myself to the study of Morality. Moreover, I will be no less complaisant, than you: I consent that Dorante, Philemon, and Erastus tell us after what manner we should speak of Passions, Vices, and Virtues; and I offer to show you afterwards, whether their Opinions be conformable, or contrary to those I maintain.  
The Company having laughed at the pleasantry of Cleonice, it was granted that there was no matter which oftener fell into Conversation, than that she came from proposing, so that it was resolved on, that some time should be spent in discoursing on that subject.   

Entertainment XIX. That to speak justly of the Passions, of Vices and Virtues, we should ordinarily descend from a general discourse into particular distinctions.  Cleonice. 
BEfore we enter on the subject we are to treat of, I would willingly know what it is to speak justly?  Philemon. 
I can boldly say I understand the justness which is found in an expression, but I acknowledge I should be puzzled to say wherein it consists. Dorante can clear up this point.  Dorante. 
I am persuaded that what does most contribute to the justness of a discourse is, when there happens a real relation, or a real opposition between the terms, and between the things which are put together. Thus I should not speak justly, should I say that Lisidor is of Provence, and Philemon an Officer of the Kings; seeing there is no relation, nor opposition between a Country and an Office. Neither should I any more speak justly, if being willing to testify my acknowledgement to Cleonice, I should explain myself in these terms. I return Graces to a Person who has 'em infinitely. This is properly what we may call a Galamathias, and it is very hard to understand two words which are tied together without any relation. In effect, in the first place the word Graces signifies only thanks, and the other word which is understood, is only taken for some agreeableness of the Countenance, or of the Person. I might moreover give you infinite Examples on this defect of justness, but I shall content myself with telling you, that it is chief in comparisons, where it is to be chief avoided.  
I should speak ill, should I say that the Barb Isabel of Philemon is as fine as the Diamond which Erastus wears, tho' it be permitted me to esteem one as much as the other, and to offer an hundred Lewis' for the Horse as well as for the Ring. But we should not compare the beauty of a Stone with that of an Animal, which is to say, two things which have neither any relation or opposition between them.  Erastus. 
I found yesterday Juvenal lying on one of my Friend's Table, I opened it, and 'twas exactly on a passage of his sixth satire, where he speaks of the manner after which the women of those times coifed themselves. He describes the bucklings and coiffing several Stories high which a wanton Dame wore, and says that her Size was so tall with them, that she might be taken for another Andromacha, in beholding her be-before; but if you viewed her behind, she appeared only to be a little Woman. Now let it not displease Juvenal, if I say he did not speak justly, he had cited Andromacha, he should then have opposed a Woman famous for her little Stature.  Cleonice. 
Whence should he have taken it? Perhaps History mentions none. People do not usually take notice of a Quality so little recommendable.  Erastus. 
Juvenal should then have chosen a tour which might furnish him with a just opposition, and have said that this Lady might have been taken for a Giant before, tho' she appeared but a Dwarf behind.  Belise. 
I now understand what is contrary to the justness of an expression, and you imagine well that the rest of the Company comprehends it yet better. And therefore we may speak of the matter which Cleonice has given us, and acknowledge in the beginning, that there is nothing so dangerous as the passions. For my part I am persuaded, that could our hearts free themselves from their Tyranny, we should enjoy a serene and happy life.  Cleonice. 
It's true, that the greatest part of the World regards Ambition, Love and Hatred as the Springs of all Evils, and it is commonly their violence which leads to the committing of the injustices which we see in the World.  Dorante. 
We grant you that the impetuosity of the passions hurries but too often to the committing of crimes, but can she not likewise be of great use in the leading us to Heroic Virtue? Without Ambition we should see no Conqueror, hear nothing of Alexander nor Caesar, and none of those glorious Actions would be performed which procure an immortal Reputation. So that instead of condemning the passions, I rather wish a good use were made of them, and that they were rendered profitable. We love the effects of Clemency and Compassion, we admire that which the love of Glory produces, and the sequel of Infamy. And however decried Fear is, yet in a thousand occasions she makes up one part of Prudence. It is from her that we foresee evils, and avoid them. What may we not moreover observe, if we examine the other passions?  Erastus. 
It seems to me that we have only the passion of Love to examine, there being scarcely any other but it. It takes different names according to the difference of its objects. Ambition is only the love of Greatness; Covetousness the love of Riches; and Hatred, which appears so opposite to Love, is, to speak properly, only a disguised Love; seeing we have only aversion for that which is offensive to us, because we love our own preservation.  Philemon. 
When we had only to explain what Love is, do you think we should be without perplexity? Although it be so natural and general a passion among an infinite number of Persons which feel it, you will find few that can tell you what it is. You may be persuaded of what I say by this Philosopher, who says that Love is I know not what, that comes from I know not where, and goes away I know not how.  Dorante. 
We are so little accustomed to enlarge ourselves on the subjects we speak of, and to engage ourselves in subtleties which serve only to tyre the mind, that I do not think we ought to discuss the nature of Passions. Those who are minded to inform themselves farther, may read the works we have on this subject, and in the mean time content themselves with the distinctions which we have promised to bring. It must be acknowledged that we are to blame in condemning the passions, and in being afraid of them. They are indifferent in themselves, and if it happens they sometimes disturb the tranquillity of our life; there are other occasions wherein they are of great help to us. Men without boldness, would they march to Glory through Fatigues and Dangers? Let's make another distinction, shall we call a man valiant who has done a great Action by an impetuosity of boldness, and shall we accuse of Cowardice a Person that a panic terror has seized in some occasion? True Valour is when in every rencontre our Courage disposes us to vanquish the obstacles which oppose our designs; as a man must not pass for a Coward, but when 'tis his custom to avoid Danger. Thus we may reason on the other Vices, and on the other Virtues. A Magistrate is not to be praised as just, for having done justice once. To merit this commendation, he must be in a firm and constant disposition to render to every one what belongs to him.  Cleonice. 
I have for this quarter of an hour had a desire to ask you the reason for the calling passions, those emotions which agitate the heart.  Erastus. 
It is because they make the body suffer through their violence.  Belise. 
I return then to what I have ever said, that the passions are Monsters which are to be rooted out.  Philemon. 
Are you willing to begin with shame? Women will be very much obliged to you. You will free them from a passion which keeps them in a strange sort of Bondage. Were they once without shame, they would have the pleasure of doing what they liked, without troubling themselves about what the World calls Reputation.  Erastus. 
It's true that shame serves as a Guard for our Women, and there are other passions which are necessary for the commerce of life. The compassion we have for the miserable, leads us commonly to secure one another in our misfortunes.  Dorante. 
Does not emulation excite to obtain the advantages we want, to raise us to the Persons we see above us?  Cleonice. 
But is there not a mixture of envy in emulation?  Erastus. 
Nothing is more different than these two passions. Emulation is lively and generous, and Envy base and malicious. The first is a regret at our small desert, the other a vexation which arises from the Merit of others. Emulation would raise us, and Envy would abase what is above us. In fine, nothing is more worthy of our contempt than Envy, nothing is more commendable than Emulation. It made Caesar weep at the sight of Alexander's Picture, and hindered Themistocles from sleeping near the Trophies of Miltiades. You know what Caesar and Themistocles afterwards executed.  Philemon. 
As to what regards Vices and Virtues, I would speak differently of them, according to the different circumstances thereto joined. There was seen heretofore in Greece a Republic wherein Theft was pardoned, provided it was committed dexterously; and you know well that Robbery found not the same impunity in any other Country.  Erastus. 
We have at this day Neighbouring Nations where the Customs are very different. If Dorante would be praised for his temperance, probably he would not go to search applause on the banks of the Rhine, as you would not advise me to go towards the Tiber, if you proposed excessive drinking.  Cleonice. 
Are distinctions to be made when we speak of Virtue in general, is it not equally reverenced by all Nations?  Dorante. 
Every body does not regard it in the same manner, and I know not whether it will not puzzle us to say precisely what it is. It's true there is a natural equity which is generally approved; but it is not less certain that it is diversely practised. There never was any obligation more indespensable, than that requiring Children to serve those who brought them into the world, especially when they are grown old, and find themselves afflicted with diseases. All the People of Europe observed so just a Maxim, and yet the Scythians, who possessed more Country than Europe comprehended, accused those Children of inhumanity who let their Parents live under an incurable Malady. For their parts they gave the fatal blow as a stroke of Grace, and thought it just to terminate thus their Parent's misery. They extended further their pretended Charity. They eat their bodies instead of burning or interring them, imagining nothing more Pious than to give this Sepulture to their Parents, for to change them into their proper substance, and make them live again in themselves as far as it was in their power. Consider this well. The Scythians commend a man who comes from committing a Parricide, and other Nations punish him as the greatest Criminal.  Erastus. 
In speaking of the different manners of People, we may cite the Punic Faith, which is to say, the little fidelity the Carthaginians observed in their promises. It's certain the Romans had more probity, and I should have more relied on the word of Regulus, than the Oaths of Hannibal and all his Army.  Philemon. 
I think it more usual to distinguish the Vices and Virtues according to the professions of Persons, than according to the Customs of their Country. A Virtue renders us recommendable only according as it is suitable to us. A Person consecrated to the Service of the Altar should prefer the knowledge of Religion to all other Sciences, and his Piety must be so great as to make his words and actions exemplary. A Soldier must glister after another manner, Valour should be his Virtue; and what regards Military Discipline, or the Art of Fortification, should be his chief study.  Cleonice. 
But can I not be told precisely what this Virtue is in general, so much talked of?  Dorante. 
It is not an easy matter wholly to satisfy you on this Subject, so diversely has the virtue you speak of been considered. I know not whether you will approve of an Opinion which I find the most plausible. I am persuaded that this Virtue, of which we form so fine an Idea, and which is believed so proper to make us live happily, is properly what we call Justice.  Belise. 
But is not Justice the particular virtue of Magistrates?  Dorante. 
It should be the virtue of all People, and had we all that stock of Equity necessary for the commerce of life, we should need neither Law nor Magistrates. Men would render  they are obliged to render, and they would begin by the Worishp due to God. Subjects would obey their Sovereigns, Children their Parents, and as no body would claim what does not belong to him, there would be no Mention of Thefts nor Murders; even detraction would be banished all Societies.  
Whilst Dorante ended these words, word was brought, that the Meat was on the Table, and Erastus being risen up; you must acknowledge yourselves, said he, greatly surprised at the novelty of my Compliment; for I know not whether I shall begin with Gentlemen, or Ladies; you must draw me out of this perplexity, and for the rest, I know it by heart.  
The Company having laughed at the serious air wherewith Erastus spoke this, answered, that he might use his liberty, so that he reassumed the discourse in these terms.  Erastus. 
Come let's end at Table this Discourse of Distinctions. You'll soon distinguish between the wretched Treats I give you, and the delicate Entertainments you give. What say you of these Antitheses?  Dorante. 
That they are admirable, although we are on the point to convince them of falsity.  
After these words they eat, and bad the People who were to set out with them to make haste; and they returned to Cleonices Chamber.  Belise. 
I always go to Versailles with a great deal of pleasure, but at my return I am strangely importuned by Arsinoa, she will have me to describe new Magnificences, or new Rarities, and puts such questions to me as are strangely troublesome.  Cleonice. 
I am yet more troubled with Celisira, she asks news of me with the greatest earnestness, and will have me give her an account of all that passes in the whole world. She has given me such a great aversion for what we may call news, that I neither have asked nor told any for this Twelve Months.  Dorante. 
But, Madam, hereby you deprive yourself of a very considerable diversion, and hinder yourself from learning important matters, wherein an infinite number of People are concerned. And therefore, Madam, I must beg your favour for News. They are an innocent cause of the vexation which Arsinoa gives you, and it is not just you should for this reason extend your resentment so far as to hate them.  Philemon. 
But should we not seek some means to make them agreeable, to reconcile them the more easily with Cleonice?   

Entertainment XX. After what manner we should t●●● News.  Erastus. 
I Cannot so far interest myself in the quarrels of Cleonice as to take her part against News; however I must preser those which divert before others. I am very earnest to tell of a Marriage lately made between two persons who sincerely loved, and were much traversed in their design. I am pleased to describe a gallant and magnificent Feast, or a famous Action performed at the head of two Armies. And I must acknowledge I am no less delighted in telling with what subtlety a covetous Hunks has been put upon, or by what address the precautions of a jealous Person has been rendered fruitless. You see I discover my defects to you, and that I am not exempt from Malice, nor an Enemy to pleasant Relations. It's true, there are very few Stories that please me. If it be an adventure, I would have it surprising; if the News respects only those ready and lively answers which we call pleasant Repartees, I require a great delicateness in the tour of expression.  Belise. 
I am not of Erastus' mind in point of News. The gay please me less than the sad; and my Spouse must pardon me if I say that I love to have my heart lively touched with compassion.  Cleonice. 
There is indeed I know not what kind of sweetness in being touched with pity. Other passions are more violent and less agreeable. Experience shows it us in the representation of a Tragedy. Infinite numbers of People are drawn to it by the tenderness of their sentiments, and do not part wholly satisfied, if they have not been forced to weep.  Erastus. 
The Tragedies you speak of, and the sad News which please Belise, have a farther good effect, which apparently you have not thought on, which is, that we cannot see a Person of great merit fall into a great misfortune, but that we feel a secret mitigation of our evils. Can we justly reproach Fortune in giving us a moderate stroke, when we see what cruel pains she inflicts on Persons of an extraordinary Virtue.  Philemon. 
Do not you think that the News which War furnishes you with, aught to carry it before all other sort of relations? Can one better draw the attention, than in describing a great Battle, the taking of a considerable Place, the conquest of a Country, or the revolution of a State?  Cleonice. 
Were I a Lover of News, I would only recount such wherein those should be Interested that heard me; and if this News were News of that part of the Town where I live, they would please me better than the News Philemon commends.  Belise. 
And I must declare myself for that kind of News which is instructive, and 'tis of that sort methinks wherewith we should entertain ourselves.  Dorante. 
I know not, Madam, whether there be News which may in particular, be called instructive, but I may say that all News in general may become instructive, when they are related by an able man. He can render the circumstances thereof useful for manners, for the administration of affairs, for the Government of People, and for the ordering of Armies. If a Siege or Battle be set forth to us in their proper colours, we shall observe the defects or the good conduct of the Generals, and thence make our advantage. If we be told of the consternation wherein the Ottomans were, we shall see that we must lay aside Pleasures, when business requires a constant attendance. We shall accuse Mahomet iv of blindness, in going to divert himself in hunting, when he should be at the head of his Armies.  
We shall observe that things are generally preserved by the same means as they were acquired, that Valour is necessary to keep a Sovereign on the Throne; that Cowardice draws only the contempt and indignation of the Soldiery and Subjects.  Erastus. 
That which passes at Court serves still more for our instruction. We see that all People must do their duty under a Master who is never deceived, and who only recompenses Merit.  Cleonice. 
What you say would give me a great desire to inform myself on the Affairs of the Court of Rome, did I believe we might entertain ourselves with that sort of News, as well as with those we now spoke of.  Philemon. 
I do not believe it unlawful for to speak our sentiments on things we see printed, and posted up; provided it be rather to instruct us, than to make ourselves busy bodies, who fancy we must decide all things.  Dorante. 
We can add nothing to what was said on this matter by a great Magistrate, whose Learning and Eloquence has long since been admired by all the World. The force of his Reasons and his Citations have increased the astonishment wherein I was before, at the usage was showed our King's Ambassador.  Erastus. 
Yet the Law of Nations, which requires that the Person of an Ambassador be sacred, is known by all the World, and every body has seen after what manner we have received the Embassies which were sent us from Infidel Kings. They have dealt in a different manner at Rome, towards the Ambassador of the Eldest Son of the Church, the most Christian King, a Monarch whose Predecessors have protected and defended the Holy See.  Dorante. 
Will you believe me, instead of wading farther into this matter, do as I have done, buy the Book we have already hinted at, read it more than once, and you will have the pleasure of profiting by the labours of a great man who knows more of it than we shall ever know.  Belise. 
Return we then to what we are to say of other News. Do you think we may draw any instruction from the little Relations Erastus has declared himself for?  Dorante. 
We need not doubt thereon; for when we are told with what dexterity a jealous or covetous Person has been imposed on; we are instructed how to make use of the like subtleties; and the Covetous and Jealous are hereby taught to take better care. In fine, Cleonice must permit us to say that News may render a Conversation agreeable; That a Polite Person may recount them, provided he is sure of what he says, and that he does not wholly set up for a News-monger.  Cleonice. 
I find nothing so ridiculous as to apply one's self to the telling of News from Morning till Night to all those we meet.  Philemon. 
It's true, there are People who have no other business. As soon as they are seen, they are immediately asked how many Bassas are strangled at Constantinople, or in the Turks Army. They are questioned on the manner after which the Imperialists live in Transilvania; they must know whether the King of Poland pretends to make himself Master of Caminec; and what design the General Morosini may have.  Dorante. 
A News-monger can answer all questions; if he has any knowledge in Maps, and the interests of Princes, he may return probable answers, otherwise he pays for his boldness. For if there be any News-mongers who guess right, there are others who speak confidently without knowing what they say. These last sometimes bring themselves into trouble, and imagine thereby to make themselves famous.  
As Dorante ended these words, they were advertised that every thing was ready, and this agreeable Company parted for Versailles.   
FINIS.   

Some BOOKS Printed for R. Bently.  

Folio.  
1. BEaumont's and Fletcher's Plays in one Volume, containing 51 Plays.  
2. Mr. William Shakespear's Plays in one Volume.  
3. Towersons Works complete in one Volume.  
4. Dr. Allestry's Sermons in one Volume.  
5. Dr. Comber's Works, the four Parts in one Volume.  
6. The Council of Trent; By Father Paolo.  
7. Toriano's Italian Dictionary.  
8. Mr. Milton's Paradise lost, with 13 Copper Cuts finely engraven, to express the whole Poem.  
9 Milton's Paradise regained; in the same Volume, Paper and Print, to bind with it.  
10. Fodina Regalis; or, the History of the Laws of Mines. By Sir John Pettus.  
11. Bishop Brownrig's Sermons.   

Books in Quarto.  
1. The  Child dreads the Fire.  
2. A Treatise of our Sangninary Laws against Papists.  
3. Dr. Whitby's Answer to S. Cressy.  
4. Mr. Nathanael Lee's Plays in one Volume.  
5. Mr. Thomas Otways Plays in one Volume.  
6. Panegyric on His Grace the Duke of Schonberg.  
7. Mundus Muliebris, or the Lady's Dressing-Room unlocked, and her Toilet spread.   

Books in Octavo.  
1. Dr. Whitby of Idolarry.  
2. Dr. Whitby of Host-worship.  
3. The Life of the Marshal Turenne.  
4. The Secret History of the House of Medicis.  
5. Cornelius Agrippa, of the Vanity of Arts and Sciences.  
6. Mauger's French Grammar. Edit. 13.  
7. Lipsius' of Constancy.  
8. Agiates Queen of Sparta.  
9 Nicorotis.  
10. Plurality of Worlds, Translated by Mr. Glanvil.  
11. Boylo's Art of Poetry; Translated by Mr. Soames.  
12. Poems and Songs, by Mr. Cuts.  
13. Sir James Chamberlain's Poems.  
14. Mr. Coppinger's Poems.  
15. Madam Colonna's Memoirs.  
16. Hudibras complete, in Three Parts.  
17. Seneca's Morals: By Sir Roger L'Estrange.  
18. Comber's Companion to the Altar.  
19 Godfrey of Boloign; A Poem.  
20. Plato's Apology of Socrates.  
21. Natural History of the Passions.  
22. Mockclelia, or, Madam Quixote.  
23. Toriano's Italian Grammar, with choice Dialogues and Phrases in Italian and English.  
24. Covent Garden Drollery.   

Books in Duodecimo.  
1. Present State of England.  
2. Enter into thy Closet.  
3. Moral Essays, in Four Volumes.  
4. A perfect School of Instructions for the Officers of the Mouth.  
5. A prospect of Humane Misery.  
6. Vanity of Honour, Wealth and Pleasure.  
7. Bishop Andrew's Devotions.  
8. Zelinda; A Romance.  
9 Happy Slave.  
10. Hatige, or the King of Tameran.  
11. Homais Queen of Tunis.  
12. Triumphs of Love.  
13. Obliging Mistress.  
14. Unfortunate Hero.  
15. Countess of Salisbury.  
16. Count Teckely.  
17. Essex and Elizabeth.  
18. The Pilgrim.  
19 The Emperor betrayed, by whom, and how.  
20. The Character of Love.  
21. Don Henrick.  
22. Princess of Fez.  
23. M. Christianissimus.  
24. Gallant Ladies, in two parts.  
25. Victorious Lovers.  
26. Love in a Nunnery.  
27. Duke of Lorain.  
28. Minority of St. Lewis.  
29. Queen of Majorca.  
30. Count de Soysons.  
31. Clytie.  
32. Dialogues of the Dead; in Two Parts.  
33. Neapolitan; or, the Defender of his Mistress.  
34. Instructions for a young Nobleman.  
35. Five Love-Letters from a Nun to a Cavalier.  
36. Five Love-Letters from the Cavalier in Answer to the Nun's.  
37. Religio Laici, in a Letter to Mr. Dryden.  
38. Count Gabalis.  
39 The chaste Seraglion.  
40. Rules of Civility.  
41. The Extravagant Poet.  
42. New Disorders of Love.  
43. Ottoman Gallantry; or, The Life of the Bassa of Buda.  
44. Revived Fugitives.  
45. Tamburlaine the Great.  
46. Court Secret, in two Volumes  
47. The Duke of Mazarine's Memoirs.  
48. Gallantry a la Mode; or, Women in their proper Colours  
49. Fortune-telling Cards.   
FINIS.