The secretary of ladies. Or, A new collection of letters and answers, composed by moderne ladies and gentlewomen, collected by Mounsieur Du Bosque. Translated out of French by I.H.

The XXIX. Letter. (Book 29)

She comforts her touching the death of M. and shewes that teares are un∣profitable for those, that have lost life, dangerous for those that yet pos∣sesses it.

MAdam, to see how me∣lancholly you be, one would thinke you no more re∣gard your life, then as a thing in which you have no interest. Since you lament those have lost it, why doe you put your owne in danger? how comes it to passe, you have not as much feare for your selfe, as sadnesse for others? tell mee not that there are accidents in which teares, and griefe are a just effect of duty. Surely there is more of custome, then rea∣son: and I cannot comprehend why our friends should take pleasure to see that we doe our selves an evill, from whence they can draw no advantage. So I call that of our excessive sorrow, for since wee beleeve

them content in the other world, if wee weepe for them in this, our teares are injurious: if it be for our selves, they are mercenary: and for what ever it be, they are superfluous, but if a wise man ought not to have unprofitable passions, how shall hee have any so dangerous? Pardon me, if I tell you freely, that if you diminish not your griefe, I shall the beleife I had of your spirit, what difference is there betweene you, and one that wilfully precipitates him∣selfe, onely you kill more cru∣elly, then ever any did wee ac∣cuse of their owne death, take heede least to shew too much pitty to others, you shew too little to your selfe. Remember what you were wont to say touching the death of Lucretia: you thought men could not ju∣stifie

her murther. And what did she to her body, you doe not to your soule? doe you thinke that one is lesse homi∣cide that kils himselfe in five dayes, then in an houre? doe not that with voluntary griefe, shee did with her owne hand. And what is it to purpose, if the weapons wee use to take away life, be visible or not? if the shortest death bee sweetest, judge what is that, you cause your selfe by a sadnesse too af∣fected? I know well the losse of our friends doth touch us, I would not remove the sense, but the errour: and if we must give any thing to nature, wee must yet give more to reason, but I correct my selfe, it is not so much nature th••t makes us to weepe excessiuely, as opini∣on, since there is no time wher∣in

noble spirits shold not aspire to felicity, what shew of reason is there, that to gaine the glo∣ry of loving well, a man should racke, and torment himselfe. True it is that passions there are, whereof we forbid but the excesse: but for sorrow, wee should take away the very use it selfe: and not serve our selves of it, but for repentance. In all things else, it is superfluous, and indeede perilous. I doe not∣withstanding much admire, if shee bee often Mistresse of our soule, since no body doth resist her: I say more, since wee de∣taine her spight of those, that offer remedy. Call to minde that shee is unprofitable to the dead, dangerous to the living: and may take life from those that have it, not restore it, to those have lost it: shee pushes

into the grave, but never draws back any. And to behold these lamentable effects, take onely your glasse, you may guesse the ill it does your soule, by that it does your face. Never did sor∣row doe so much mischiefe as yours, seeing it ruines at once two of the fairest things in the world, your disposition, and your beauty; judge now if we have cause to complaine, and if your melancholly ought not to be a just cause of ours, think on this, and consider how ma∣ny you make weepe, whilest you lament but one. You see what I might write, and yet ac∣count not my letter necessary. I speake rather to your memo∣ry, then your judgement, and this is not to instruct, but call to mind those lessons you give to others, and would be at present

usefull to your selfe. I must now say to your soule, as to sicke Phisitians, that shee heale her selfe. But I feare least it be spo∣ken as unprofitably to you, as them, for if the sicknesse of the body takes away knowledge, much more that of the soule. Nevērthelesse I will hope bet∣ter, and beleeve you will not alwayes take pleasure to hug an ill, whereof you may heale your selfe. At least I thinke you will interrupt a little your teares, if you open your eies to consider her that prayes you, it is

Madam,

Your, &c.