A LETTER From PARIS, FROM Sir George Wakeman, To his Friend Sir W. S. in London.  
Dear SIR,  
I Cannot but wonder at your Confidence, in staying in England among the National Betlem of Resolute heretics; for I think the people are all Mad, and resolve to question the integrity of the Saints, since they have Impeached the Justice: I hear with great trouble, that you have got your Quietus est, and have left the Woolpack, and thrown from your Shoulders that great Grievance of the Nation, Justice: You are no longer mounted like Radamanthus on the Bench, weighing the very essence of all Causes to a Mite, in the Golden balances of Judgement. I should have taken you for Justice her self, but they say She is Blind, and I am sure you can see( as the old homely Proverb has it) which side your Bread is buttered on. Let ever one speak as they find, I am sure you dealt Justly by me, for I protest I am as Innocent as the Child that is unborn, and have been acquitted by the Law, and therefore if I pleased might return to England, but I have several Reasons, best known to myself, for my staying on this side the Water: but Mor blew, 'tis not to Plot, I leave that to the Jesuits, who are a sort of people, I have nothing to do with: I cannot but remember your former Kindness, and having no other means, as the French Proverb has it, ye vous pay en Monnoye de Cordelier, I will pay you with Thanks and Prayers; And I hope to see you again Triumphant with the Purse in your Hand: But in the mean time, I Invite you to Paris, I think it would be a great deal of Prudence to shun the Storm that is like to blow from Oxford, about the 21th. of March next, as I find predicted by several Judicious Astrologers: Here you will be out of Harms way, and who knows but you may become at Paris as famous for Law and Justice, as I am grown for physic, I am in great practise, and live like myself: I have lately purchased the Receipts of Madam— of her Heirs, at the value of 300 Pistols, in which I have found out the Quintessence of poisons, a Secret I much studied all my Life. I have also here met with a Jew, and a Disguised Banian, who came lately out of the Great Moguls Territories, both which, have furnished me with most choice drugs, not to be had in Spain or Italy. I will shortly sand you a pair of perfumed Gloves, to present your Enemies with, never fear the Operation, the Effluvia shall blast like the Pestilence, and at several Leagues distance. Every man according to his Calling, for Medicina est scientia Insalubrium, as well as Salubrium, and is Adjectio and Substractio, to Kill Secundum Artem requires as much Skill, as to cure, and we are most useful either way among Mortals. By Aesculapius the Bearded Son of Apollo, I cannot refrain Excursions in my own Element, but I hope you will pardon me, and for that I must inquire after the state of your Body. It is my Opinion, that this Air will be much more agreeable to your Constitution, than that of London. The Spring is now coming on, and the latter end of March, or the beginning of April, will be a most Seasonable time to move your Body, but I beseech you, not to take any Parlimentary Pills, they have too much Colecinthida in them, and will work too violently; you have but a tender Body, none knows so well your constitution as myself; I wish I could Inspect your Water, if it be bloody it is an ill sign. I think the Spa● or the Waters of Burbone, would be proper for you. I desire you will be pleased to remember me to my old Friend, with whom sometimes we used to Dust it; but especially to old Father J. S. you know he is a close man, and first brought us together, I wonder where he hides these dangerous times, bid him beware of the 300, and then let the 8000 go whistle; you are acquainted with my ciphers: pray let me have a Letter from you as soon as you can, either by the ordinary Post, or by Monsieur Pritchant, whom I shortly expect, and who has orders to wait on you before he comes away. I am  
SIR, Your highly obliged Friend, and most Humble Servant, G. W. Paris, Feb. 25. New style.   

Postscript.  
JUst as I had concluded, in comes Monsieur pompion, my good Friend, who tells me, That though you sit not on the Bench, you still stand in the Cabinet; and though you pled not at the Bar, you give Chamber-Council; I am glad of it with all my heart; but that wise Man bid me tell you, that you should Lash the Wheels of your Chariot, they are too much oiled, and run like Jehu's, and that you use the Whip of Zeal, till you have ●aded your Horses Reason and Judgement, who have drawn up hill so hard, that they are become blind: He bids me also put you in mind of an Italian saying, Piu tosto tardi, che in fretta: Take Breath, be rather late, than do your business in hast: I advice you therefore, to get an hold-fast, that you loose not Ground, such as Wains have when they draw up a steep hill, that keeps them from running backward, when they are at a stand, and the Horses take Breath. The King of France his Bittmaker, has promised me an exact pattern of a Parlimentary Snaffle and Cavason, which I will sand over to you, for I understand that the French Gag which the Earl of D. had got, is broken: This is an Excellent device, I assure you, for the French King has more than one Parliament in his Kingdom, and by this means he has made them as gentle as Asses, and without either wincing or braying, carry his Edicts thorough all his large Territories. He makes no Requests, Sic volo sic Jubeo, is all the Language he uses; I am much in Love with his Government, and may shortly sand you some of his policies. Be careful of your health this Spring, and have a care of changing the Air, unless in France; farewell.  
G. W.   
FINIS.  

Printed for T. B. in the Year, 1681.