CCXI sociable letters written by the thrice noble, illustrious, and excellent princess, the Lady Marchioness of Newcastle.

LXXIX.

MADAM,

I Was yesterday presented with a Book Trans∣lated out of French into English, wherein I find the Author of the Book Condemns those that set their Images before their Books, or that suffer their Friends to give their Opinions of their Books in Epistles, or that do write many, or some, or few Epistles before their Books, whereas him∣self writes so Long an Epistle, in finding Fault with Others, and civilly Applauding Himself, in not having his Picture or his Friends Applau∣ses, as that Epistle or Preface is as Long, if not More, than many Short Epistles, and as Vain-glorious as Many Friends Praises. But I am so far from that Noble Persons Opinion or Mo∣desty, that I wish, whereas I have One Friend to Praise my Works, although Partially, I had a Thousand, or rather Ten thousand Millions, nay, that their number were Infinite, that the Issue of my Brain, Fame, and Name, might live to Eternity if it were possible; neither do I think or believe it a Sin to Wish it, by reason it proceeds from Pure Self-love, which is the Root or Foundation of the Love of God and all Moral Virtues, I do not mean Corrupted Self-love, but as I said, Pure Self-love, by which God and Nature did Make, and doth Order the

whole World, or Infinite Matter. But, Ma∣dam, give me leave to say, that this Age doth Corrupt all Wit and Wisdom with Sophistry, and because they cannot write Beyond the An∣tients, they will endeavour to Disgrace them, although most Writers Steal from them. But for this French Author, setting aside his Epistle, his Book is full of Wit and Reason, as it is ren∣dred by the Translator, and wishing all Wri∣ters could fill their Books with Wit and Rea∣son, I rest,

Madam,

Your faithful Friend and Servant.