University of Virginia Library

Pliny — Epistles — 1723

Pliny's Epistles Book I

Epistle I. C. Plinius Secundus to his Beloved Septitius.

by Mr. Pelham

You have often advised me to collect and publish, such of my Letters, as were the least negligently Written. I have done it, but have placed them as they came next to Hand, without observing the order of Time in which they were written, not thinking

my self obliged, in that Respect, to the strictness of an Historian. I only wish, You may not repent of your Advice, nor I of my Compliance; which may encourage me to enquire after such other of them, as yet lie scattered about, and not to suppress such as I may have occasion to write hereafter.

Farewel.

Epistle II. To Arrianus.

by the Same. [Mr. Pelham]

Since I find you have deferred your coming, I send you the piece, which I formerly promised you, and beg of you to Correct it with your usual Faithfulness. And the rather, because it is the first thing I have written in that Spirit: For I had it in my View to imitate the accurate Demosthenes, who has long been your Delight, and who lately is become mine. But when I speak of imitating him, I mean it only as to the Stile, for the Force and Energy of such a Man is not to be attained to, but by

those whom Heaven has equally befriended. Nor was my Subject, which required little else besides earnestness and vehemence in Pleading, at all unfit for such an Emulation (Pardon that presumptuous Word) but rather Favourable to it, as it roused me from a long indulged Idleness, and stirred up all my latent fire; if I do not flatter my self in thinking, there was a Spark yet left in me. Neither have I entirely avoided, the gayer Colourings of my Master Cicero, nor scrupled, to enliven the Subject by a Digression, whenever it did not lead me too far out of the way. For I endeavoured to write closely but without stiffness. But do not imagine that I desire your indulgence upon this Account: On the contrary, to make you more intent upon your Corrections, I own to you that my Friends and I, have no Aversion to the Publishing this Piece, if by the Addition of your Vote, we can make our Folly the more Excusable. And, indeed, I look upon my self as obliged to Publish something, and my Laziness would fain persuade me, to let it be this, which is ready. I think my self obliged to do it, upon several Accounts, but especially, because my former Writings are still asked for, (tho' they have, long since, lost the Charm of Novelty) unless the Booksellers tell me so, only out of Flattery: But let them flatter, if they will, provided their Fallacies make me the fonder of my Studies.

Farewel.

Epistle III. To Caninius Rufus.

by Mr. Toland.

How fares Comum, my Delight and yours? That country-Seat, so exceeding lovely? That Gallery, where it is always Spring? That most shady Grove of Plane-Trees? That Canal, so green, and clear as a Diamond? The Lake hard by, which seems designed for a Reservatory to supply it? Those firm, and yet easy Walks? That Bath, which never wants the Sun in his Round? Those large Dining-Rooms for Company, and those lesser Withdrawing-Rooms for a few Friends? How goes it with the Drinking-Rooms? How with those Bed-Chambers for Night, and those Anti-Chambers for Day? Do these possess and share you by Turns? Or, are you hindered (as you were wont) with frequent Excursions abroad, by an over-earnest Desire of increasing your Estate? If these possess you, then are you easy and happy; but if they do not, you are only One of many that admire them. Why do you not rather (for it is high Time) commit those

low and sordid Cares to others, and apply your self to Books, in that quiet and plentiful Retreat? Let this be your Business and Leisure, your Labour and Recreation: Let Studies employ your Thoughts by Day, and be the Subject of your Dreams by Night. Invent, and finish something, that may be perpetually yours; for the rest of your Possessions will, after your Death, successively fall to the Share of many Owners; but if this once begins, it can never cease to be yours. I know how great a Soul, and how fine a Genius I exhort. Do you only endeavour to have as good an Opinion of your self, as others must need entertain of you, if once you are conscious of your own Worth. Farewel.

Epistle IV. To Pompeia Cælerina, his Wife's Mother.

by Mr. Pelham.

The short Letter, I wrote to you some Time ago, is enough to convince you, That I have now no farther Need of yours to acquaint me, what abundance of Delights

are to be met with at your Country-Houses at Ocriculum, Corsulanum, Perusinum, and Narnium, and at your fine Bathing-House there; nor need I repeat any Thing on that Head. I can assure you, I do not so much enjoy what is my own, as what is yours. They differ only in this, That your People attend me with greater Care and Diligence, than my own do; which perhaps may be your Case, if ever you come to see me, which I beg you to do, not only that you in your turn may enjoy all the Pleasures we can procure you here, but also, that my People may be awakened by your Presence, who expecting my coming alone, are, I dare say, secure and negligent enough: For, with an easy Master, Custom naturally wears off the Awe which his Servants might at first have for him: But when Strangers come, they exert themselves and take more Pains, to gain the Favour of their Master, by their Regard to them, than by any thing else that relates to his Service.

Farewel.

Epistle V. To Voconius Romanus.

by the Same. [Mr. Pelham.]

Have you ever seen any one more timorous and abject than Marcus Regulus, since Domitian's Death? His Crimes were not less in his Time, than in Nero's, tho' more secret. He began to be afraid, that I was angry with him, nor was he in the wrong. He had encouraged the Prosecution against Arulenus Rusticus, and triumphed at his Death to that Degree, that he published a Piece full of Invectives against him, wherein he calls him the Ape of the Stoicks, and adds, that he was infamous by the Scar he was marked with on the Account of Vitellius. You are acquainted with the usual Eloquence of Regulus, he fell upon Herennius Senecio, so very immoderately, that Metius Carus said to him, What have You to do with my dead Men? Don't I let Crassus and Camerinus alone, whom you know Regulus had informed against in Nero's Time?

Regulus believed I resented those Things, and therefore he did not invite me to the Rehearsal of his Piece. Besides, he remembred how sharply he had set upon me my self before the Centumvirate. I appeared there for Arionilla, the Wife of Timon, at the Request of Arulenus Rusticus. Regulus was on the other side. In one part of the Cause, we relied upon the Sentence, that had been given against Metius Modestus, an excellent Man, whom Domitian had Banished. Now to shew you Regulus: I question you, says he to me, what you think of Modestus? You see the Danger of answering, I think well of him, and the Baseness of saying the contrary. I can't help thinking that the Gods assisted me then, in a particular manner. I will tell you, said I, what I thought of him, if the Judges were now to determine about it: Whereupon he replies again, Nay, but what do you think of Modestus? To which I answered, Witnesses are used to be examined against Men accused, not against those already condemned. He attacked me the third Time, I only ask you then, what you think of the Loyalty of Modestus? You ask me, said I, what I think of it? And I think it a Crime to make any Question of that which is already judicially determined. This silenced him. I was praised and congratulated upon my Escape, as having neither injured my Character, by an Answer, which in me would have been base, however useful it might have been to my Cause; nor fallen into the Toils which he had prepared for me, by his ensnaring Questions. But to return to Regulus, now that his Conscience terrifies him, he first flies to Cæcilius Celer, and immediately after to Fabius Justus, and begs of them to use their Interests, to reconcile me to him; and not content with that, he applies to Spurinna, I humbly beg of you says Regulus to him, (for Fear makes him most abjectly humble) that you will not fail to go to Pliny to Morrow Morning, but pray let it be early enough, and prevail with him on any Terms, to forgive me; for I can no longer bear the Uneasiness I am under. I had watched all that Night, when in comes a Messenger from Spurinna to tall me he was coming to me. I sent him Word that I would wait on him; as we were going to each other, we met in Livia's Portico; he told me what Directions he had Received from Regulus, adding such intreaties of his own, as became one of the best of Men, to use for one of the worst. You expect, said I, my Answer, I must not deceive you, I wait the Arrival of Mauricus, who was not yet returned from Banishment: Therefore I can say nothing to it, one way or other, having resolved to do whatever he shall think fit, for he has a Right to command me intirely in this Affair. Some few Days after, Regulus himself meets me in the Pretors Court, where he had followed me about, sometime, 'till he had found me alone. He told me he was afraid, that something he had formerly said the the Court of the Centumvirate, might have given me some uneasiness, when in answering me and Satrius Rufus, he had said; Satrius and he who vies it with Cicero, and who is not satisfied with the Eloquence of our Age. I answered him, that I now perceived those Words were spoken with a Design to expose me, since he himself confessed it, but that otherwise, they would admit of a different Construction; for I do, said I, vie with Cicero, nor am I satisfied with the Eloquence of our Age, having always thought it great Folly, to propose to one's Imitation, any thing short of the best. But you, who remember this Cause so well, how came you to forget your asking me, in another Cause, my Opinion of the Loyalty of Metius Modestus. Hereupon he grew considerably paler, than he naturally is, and answered me in a great deal of Confusion, That he did not do it to hurt me, but Modestus, (you see the Cruelty of the Wretch, who could not dissemble his Intention to hurt a banished Man) and he added an extraordinary Reason for it, saying, That in one of Modestus's Letters which was read before Domitian, there was this Expression, Regulus, the most wicked of all Creatures; nor had Modestus said any thing by the Truth. Here we ended, for I avoided going farther, that I might keep my self at Liberty till Mauricus's Return. Besides, I considered that Regulus is a Man, not easy to be overthrown. For he is Rich, considerable in his Party, respected by many, Feared by more; which last Passion, is generally stronger than Love. Tho' when once the Shock comes, all these may fail, for the Favour of bad Men is as faithless as they themselves are. But, as I have said before, I wait for Mauricus, who is grave, prudent experienced, and able to provide for future Events by the just Observations he has made of past Ones. And I shall stir in the Affair or lie still, as he shall direct. I have given you this Account, because you have a Right from our mutual Friendship, to know, not only all my Actions, and Words, but also my very purposes.

Farewel.

Epistle VI. To Cornelius Tacitus.

by the Same. [Mr. Pelham.]

I know you will Laugh, and so you well may. I, Pliny, the very Pliny whom you know so well, have been Hunting, and taken Three Boars, and fine ones too. What Pliny! You'll say, yes, Pliny. But, that I might not entirely part with my beloved Indolence, and Ease, I sat down by the Toils, having ready at Hand, not a Boar-Spear, or a Javelin, but a Pencil, and a Pocket-Book: There I Studied on a Subject I had in view, and Wrote down my Thoughts, that, if I my self were obliged to go Home empty Handed, I might, at least, bring back my Pocket Book full. Nor is this way of Study to be Condemned, it is surprizing how much the mind is excited, by the Agitation and Motion of the Body; besides, the Woods, and Solitude, and the very silence which that sort of Hunting obliges to, are great helps to Thinking. Therefore pray, whenever you Hunt again, be sure, that with the rest of your Provisions, you carry a Table-Book, and quote my Authority

for it. And you will find that Minerva Haunts the Woods no less than Diana.

Farewel.

Epistle VII. To Octavius Rufus.

by the Same. [Mr. Pelham.]

See to what a Height you have raised me, giving me the same full Power, and Command, that Homer does to Jupiter the Good, and Great.

Th'Almighty Father granted half his Prayer,
The other half deny'd.

For with a like consenting nod, and denying shake of my Head, I can answer your Expectations. For tho' I can Handsomely enough, especially at your Request, Excuse my self to the Bætici, for not appearing on their Behalf against a particular Person: Yet it will in no wise be consistent, with my Truth, and Constancy, Vertues which you esteem, to appear against a Province, which I have formerly

obliged, by so many laborious, and hazardous Services. I will therefore steer a middle Course, and of the two things, which you leave to my Election to oblige you in, I will chuse that, which may not only content your present Inclination, but your Judgment likewise. For I am not so much to consider, what so excellent a Person, as you are, may desire just for the present, as what you are likely always to approve of. I hope to be at Rome about the Ides of October, and then to give Gallus a Proof of both our Friendships. In the mean time I give you leave to assure him, of my good Inclination towards him,

Thus said, and awful bent his sable Brows,
Saturnian Jove.

For why should not I use Homer's Verses continually, when writing to you? Since you will not let me have any of your own; tho' I long for them to that degree, that I think such a Fee would Corrupt me to appear, even against the Bætici. I had like to have omitted, what I ought by no means to forget, that I have received your most excellent Palm-Apples, which I think do not yield to your Figs or Mushrooms.

Farewel.

Epistle VIII. To Pompeius Saturninus.

by the Same. [Mr. Pelham.]

Your Letter wherein you desire me to send you something of my Writing, came to me very Seasonably, as I was just preparing to do so. You have therefore only Spurred a free Horse, and at once, prevented your self of all Excuse, from taking the Pains to Correct it, and me, from the shame of asking you that Favour.

For now, it would not become me, to be afraid to make use of the Liberty offered me, nor you, to be displeased at what you your self have desired. But you are not to expect any thing New, from so lazy a Fellow. What I now beg of you, is again to Review the Oration which I made to my Townsmen, when I gave them a Library. I remember indeed you have already made some Remarks, but they were general ones, but now I desire that

you would not only consider it in the general, but be as particular as you can in your Corrections, and fine off every roughness. For I shall still be at Liberty to publish it, or suppress it: And your Corrections may, perhaps, determine my Choice, which is yet doubtful, about it: For the frequency of them, will either show that it is not fit, or will make it fit for the Publick. But the Reasons of my doubt, do not arise so much, from the Stile, and manner, as from the Subject I treat of; which seems a little vainglorious. For being obliged to discourse of the Munificence of my Ancestors, and of my own, this alone appears an offence against Modesty, let the Stile be ever so low and humble. This is a dangerous and slippery Path, even tho' Necessity be the Excuse for getting into it; for if, while a Man is speaking in Praise of others, he is not heard with Pleasure, how can he be heard with Patience, when discoursing of himself, or his Family? And if we are apt to detract even from a handsome Action, how much more shall we do so, when we see it attended with a vain glorious Publication? Those good Deeds alone, escape Detraction, which are hid in Silence and Obscurity. Upon which account, I have often considered, whether, in what I have Written, I ought only to consult my self, or others also. Besides, I reflect, that most things, which are necessary to accompany the doing of a good Action, lose their Advantage, and Grace, the moment that Action is over. And, not to go farther for an Instance of it, what could I do more properly, at the time I was making my Townsmen such a Present, than to enlarge a little upon the Advantages of that sort of Liberality? As first, That by such means they would be disposed to spend their Hours in virtuous Studies; the Charms of which they might in time ben enabled to perceive more thoroughly. And again, That I had taken such care in the disposal of my Bounty, as not to repent it afterwards. And here it naturally came in my way to discourse of the Contempt of Riches: And tho' all Men seem under a natural Constraint to keep them, on the contrary, my well-weigh'd love of Liberality had freed me from those Chains of Avarice, in which so many are bound: And that my Munificence deserved the greater Commendation, because it was not the effect of a sudden Fancy, but of a deliberate Resolution. You may consider likewise, That as I had not given them Shows or Gladiators, but had engaged in a yearly Expence for the Improvement of the young Gentlemen there; what I than said might be the more necessary: For indeed the Pleasures we receive by the Eyes and Ears, are so far from wanting an Oration to recommend them, that they have more need of one to restrain us from them: But on the contrary, not only Rewards, but many Arguments are necessary to perswade any one to undergo the fatigue and labour of a good Education: And if Physicians are forced to give all the good Words they can, to get their Patients to take an unpleasant, tho' wholsom, Prescription; how much more fitting was it, for a Lover of the Publick, to introduce a most beneficial, tho' not equally popular, Donation, by a Discourse in its favour? Especially since I had endeavoured that what was given to the Parents might be an Advantage to their Posterity; and that the Honours some few had obtained, might encourage others to do the like, by studying to deserve them. But, as at that time I endeavoured more to do my Townsmen a Service, than to raise my own Reputation, in explaining the Intention and Usefulness of my Present to them; so now, in my Design of publishing this Piece, I fear 'twill be thought I have consulted, not the Advantage of others, but my own Glory. Besides, I consider how much more noble it is, to place the Reward of a good Action in the Consciousness, than in the Reputation of it. For Praise ought to come of it self, not to be sought after: and if, by chance, it does not follow a good Action, that Action is not to be the less esteem'd for not having acquired popular Applause. But they, who set off their good Actions by their own Words, seem not so much to talk of them, because they have done them, as to have done them, that they might talk of them. And the same thing, that would have sounded well in the Mouth of another, loses all its Grace in the Mouth of its Author. For when Men cannot condemn the Action itself, they accuse the doer of it of Vanity. So that if you do any thing fit only to be concealed, you are blamed for the very Action; If you do a Praise-worthy thing, you are blamed for the not concealing it. And indeed as I made this Oration, not before the common People, but before the Magistrates, not in the open Street, but in the Town-House; I am afraid that it will be absurd in me, by publishing it at this time, to pursue that vulgar Praise and Acclamation which I industriously avoided when I spoke it: And that I, who was then so apprehensive of appearing ambitious of the Favour of the People, as to shut out of Doors even them for whose Good what I had done, was intended; I should now court, with an apparent Ostentation, those who can reap no other Benefit from my Liberality, but the good Example of it. I have given you the Reasons of my being so backward; and I beg your Advice, which will be of sufficient Authority to determine me without farther deliberation.

Farewel.

Epistle IX. To Minutius Fundanus.

by Mr. Toland.

'Tis a wonderful thing how reasonably we act, or at least seem to act, in the City upon particular Days; but not so every Day, nor many Days together. For if you ask any one, What have you been doing to Day? And that he answers, I was to congratulate with a Friend for his Son's arriving to Man's Estate; I was present at a Contract or a Wedding; one called me to be a Witness to his Will, another to assist him in a Law-Suit; another to have my Advice in some other Matter. These things will just then seem necessary Offices; but, if considered as done every Day, they must appear, to be sure, losing of time, and you'll be convinced of it much more, when you retire into the Country. For then I call to mind how many Days I have spent in most trivial Affairs; which Reflection I especially have, when in my Laurentin Villa, I read any thing, or write, or even take Care of my Body, the Prop and Support of the Mind. There I hear nothing of which I would chuse to be ignorant, nor speak any

thing I wish unsaid again. No body detracts from me at another Man's Table by malicious Discourses; and I find fault with no body but only with my self, when I can't write to my Mind. I am perplexed with no Fears, I am not disquieted with any Reports: I speak only with my self and with my Books. O upright and sincere Life! O sweet and honourable Leisure, preferable (I had almost said) to any Business whatsoever! O Sea! O Shore! You true and private Studying-Place! How many things you dictate to me? How many things you occasion me to invent? Do you therefore, as soon as ever you can, leave that Noise, those vain Prattles, with all the Pains you are at to so little purpose, and betake yourself to Study or Recreation: Since 'tis better (as our Friend Atilius has no less learnedly than facetiously said) for a Man to be Jolly, than to be Busie in doing nothing.

Farewel.

Epistle X. To Atrius Clemens.

by A. Z.

Whatever Figure this City of our may have formerly made in the Belles Lettres, she seems in this Age to exceed her self; for which I cou'd produce you abundance of shining Instances, but shall at present content my self with one, and I mean the learned Euphrates.

'Twas my good Fortune to be thoroughly and intimately acquainted with him in Syria, when I was but a young and raw Soldier at my Studies in those Parts; who, finding me resolv'd on sparing no Pains to court his Friendship, soon sav'd me that trouble by his unreserv'd Openness and compleat Practice of that Humanity, which he makes it his Business to teach.

And I now feelingly wish I had ever been able to accomplish those Hopes, which he was then pleas'd to conceive of me, in any Proportion to that Augmentation which he himself has since added to the stock of his own Merits: Or perhaps I may at this Day admire 'em the more, because I understand 'em somewhat

better; tho' even still I am far from pretending that I sufficiently do so. For, as in Painting Sculpture or Statuary, the very parallel Case is it in Literature; none but a Master can adequately judge of him, that is so! And yet, if I ben't mightily mistaken, there are more than a few Talents so exalted and so bright in Euphrates, as cannot well miss catching and delighting the Eye, even of the Tender-sighted.

His Disputations are acute, weighty, and elegant; frequently not short of the stretch and loftiness of Plato himself. As to his manner of Speaking, 'tis fluent, with a perpetual Variety; charming and sweet to the last Degree, and equally effectual either for leading, or driving an Opponent.

What I shall next mention is, That his Stature is tall and his Face comely; with a long Head o' Hair, and a large white Beard; which tho' but accidental and generally insignificant Circumstances, yet in him are peculiarly venerable. There's nothing shocking in his Aspect; no Melancholy, yet a great Gravity. Shou'd you happen to meet him, you'd instantly reverence him, without being the least dash'd at the sight of him.

'Tis a Question; whether the strict Probity of his Life, or the affable East of his Behaviour be most remarkable? His Method being to rebuke the Vice, not the Man, and to mend Faults, rather than rub hard upon 'em. He

cou'd scarce give you a piece of Advice, but you'd be apt to run after him, and hang upon him for more. There's such a Pleasure in being convinc'd by him, a Body wou'd almost beg him to go back and argue it over again.

In the next Place he's the Parent of three Children, one of 'em a Girl; and no Care is omitted in his own Education of the two Boys. His Wife's Father, Pompey Julian, besides the rest of his Character, is particularly distinguishable in this; That in no less a Station than the Lieutenancy of a Province, he cou'd pick out such a Son-in-Law; not as any eminent Person in suitable Titles or Dignities, but meritoriously so in the preferable Capacity of Knowledge.

And now, except it be to vex my self the more, why do I dwell on the Thoughts of a Man, whom I'm debar'd from enjoying? Ty'd, as I am, to a State-Office of no less Slavery than Grandeur: My Fate is to be attending at a Treasury-Board, signing Petitions, auditing Accompts, scribling whole Packets of Letters, and, between You and Me, no very wise ones neither.

Nor indeed can I sometimes, as Opportunity offers, forbear making this very Complaint to Euphrates himself. But he truly spurs me on and encourages me, insisting upon it; that the Dispatch of Publick Business, the Hearing of Causes, the Passing Decrees, the re-search and distribution of Justice, and lastly,

the putting into Practice the Theory of the Schools, are not barely Parts, but the most glorious Branches of Human Understanding.

This however is the only Point, in which He and I shall be likely to differ; it being next to impossible to allow any of these Matters equivalent, with the hearing from Morning to Night, and improving by his own inimitable Lectures.

I therefore take the liberty of advising you, who are happy Master of your own Time; directly to submit your self to this Filing and Polishing, as soon as you come next to Town; and, if I was you, I should not be long a coming.

To conclude, I am none of those who too often are inclinable to Envy and Grudge in others, all Advantages unenjoy'd by themselves; but can on the contrary, be sensible of no little Pleasure from seeing any of my Friends overflow and abound, in what perhaps is my own Misfortune to want even a Competence of.

Adieu.

Epistle XI. To Fabius Justus.

by the Same. [A. Z.]

'Tis an Age since you sent me a Letter. I've nothing to write, say you: That Excuse shall pass, provided you'll give it me under your Hand; or else a Word in the old Strain, thus; If you're well, 'tis pure; I'm the same. That's enough, and a great deal too. You fancy me in Jest; I'm not so merrily dispos'd. Let me know whether you are dead or alive, as you tender my Quiet.

Adieu.

Epistle XII. To Calestrius Tiro.

by the Same. [A. Z.]

An excessive Loss is befallen me, if that Monosyllable can express the parting with so valuable a Person! In a Word, Corellius

Rufus is no more, and by a Death too of his own seeking; a galling Circumstance to my aching Heart; for 'tis a lamentable sort of Dissolution, where neither Nature nor Fate appear to have any Hand in it.

When Friends are snatch'd from us by common Sickness, the very Necessity of the Case is in some Degree its own Alleviation; but in self-destroying Instances, the dismal and provoking Reflection is, they might have kept us in Company longer.

This however may be said for Correllius, that as to matter of Reasoning upon the desperate Point, he had perhaps on his side some Arguments which a Man of Sense might reckon Compulsive, even tho' surrounded with all other Inducements for living; such as a quiet Conscience, a vast Reputation, a powerful Interest, a Wife, a Daughter, some Sisters, a Nephew, besides a Sett of endear'd and sincere Acquaintance. But so it was, that a painful and stubborn Infirmity surmounted all these Considerations.

The first appearance of the Gout upon him, as I remember from his own Account, was about the Three and Thirtieth Year of his Age. 'Twas indeed Paternal to him; for Distempers it seems have their indefeasible Successions and Inheritances, as well as better or worse things. Whilst his Vigour lasted, he kept it tolerably under by Abstinence and Regularity; till increasing upon him with declension of Life, he

was laterly reduc'd to strength of Mind as his dernier-Reffort.

In one of the most racking and cruel of his Fits, for 'twas now wander'd from the Extreams all over him; and I well recollect, 'twas in the late Reign of Domitian, I happen'd to make him a Visit in the Suburbs, where he then lay; the Servants by laudable Oeconomy withdrew unbid, upon the Entrance of me, or any particular Crony: His faithful Spouse, who had nothing of the gossipping Baggage about her, was likewise pleased to leave us to ourselves. Immediately he rolls his Eyes; Ah, Pliny! says he, wherefore do'st thou imagine I endure these Torments so long; purely and only in hopes of surviving that Villain but four and twenty Hours; and, had my Body been a Match for my Soul, 'twould have answer'd my Purpose.

Gracious Providence however in due Time favour'd his longing. Now, thinks he, am I save and secure of Dying, as I was Born, a free Roman! and from that very Moment never more regarded any other Motive for loitering longer in this trifling World.

His Malady now began to gallop a-pace, notwithstanding his abstemious Regimen; and, when nothing would do, 'twas high time for his Spirit to sink. Not an Atom of any kind of Nourishment had pass'd his Lips for the last four Days.

In this distracted Juncture the disconsolate Hispulla hurries away Geminius, a mutual Well-wisher between us, to apprize me of her Husband's violent Intention; who persisting inflexible by her own or her Daughter's Diswasions, I was the only Man upon Earth to divert him from it.

As I was hastening thither with the utmost speed, a second Message from the same Hand, by Julius Atticus meets me in sight of the House, with the desponding News of its now being out of my Power to do any good, his Obstinacy growing every Minute stronger and stronger.

Upon the Physician's proffering him some what, it seems, by way of Support, he cou'd n't forbear dropping these Words; I am tir'd, and have determin'd! Which Expression, I must confess, not only raises my Admiration, but aggravates my Want of him. I am incessantly thinking what a Patron, what a Creature am I for ever depriv'd of!

He was indeed Sixty Seven, a reasonably Duration for any body; I know it. He's reliev'd out of a troublesome Scene too, and all his Ails are cur'd at once; I know it. He's likewise sufficiently provided with Heirs, having left a round Family behind him and what was still dearer him his Country in a

flourishing Condition; I know all that too; and yet I can't help being as much concern'd for him, as tho he'ad expired in the very bloom of Youth, and the strength of Hercules.

To tell you the whole truth, and I'll venture your thinking amiss of me; I'm not a little disturb'd upon a private Score of my own; for I have lost, O Calestrius! I have lost the Guide, the Rule, the Staff of my Life. In short, and as I said to honest Calvisius, upon the first bursting of my Passion, I wish I don't slip into a looser Course of living.

Oblige me therefore with what Consolation you can, but not a tittle I beseech you of the ancient Gentleman, or the Invalid; for those Topicks, you see, are already useless. If possible, let it be somewhat that's quite New; somewhat that's surprisingly Great. I tell you before hand, it must be no manner of thing that I have ever yet heard, or ever yet read; for whole Heaps of Notions, both from Men and Books, are at my own Finger's Ends, and ready enough to assist me; but alas! all of 'em put together signify not one Straw to my present Occasion.

Adieu.

Epistle XIII. To Socius Senecio.

by Mr. Henley.

We have a large Growth of Poets this Year: Scarce a Day has passed, during the whole month of April, that has not oblig'd the Town with some new Rehearsal.

It is a Pleasure to me, that Letters are so Flourishing, and that Men are so ready to display their Talents: Tho' the Audience fills very slowly: Most of those that meet, are rather inclin'd to take a publick Seat, while away the time with a Story; and often ask, whether the Rehearser be enter'd, whether he has deliver'd his Preface, or almost finish'd his Piece; then perhaps they come but very lazily; and soon retreat before the Conclusion; some steal off in a fly manner, and others march away with the utmost Frankness, and Plain-Dealing.

It was otherwise in Days of Yore; when, we are told, that Claudius Cæsar, walking in the Palace, inquir'd the Cause of a Clamour he suddenly heard; and when it was reply'd, That it was the Rehearsal of Nonianus, he pushed eagerly thro' the Crowd, and surpriz'd

the Speaker. Now every idle Fellow, tho' inform'd, and sollicited long before, either stays away, or, if he be so good-natur'd as to come, has the Face to complain, he has fool'd away a Day, purely because he was kept from losing it by better Employment. However, they are the more to be extoll'd, whose fondness for good Learning is not to be damp'd by the Pride or Indolence of the Hearer.

For my particular, I was desirous to encourage every Body; indeed most of them were my Friends. For few are Lovers of Literature, that are not, I persuade my self, at the same Time, Friends of mine. For these Reasons I prolong'd my stay in Town beyond my first design: Now I have it in my Power to retire again into the Country; and Write something, which I would not Rehearse, left I should be imagin'd to come with a Claim of Debt upon others, on the Score of my Attendance. For it is much the same thing in this, as in other Cases, a Favour is lost, if it be demanded back again.

Epistle XIV. To Junius Mauricus.

by Mr. M.

The particular Opinion you have of my Choice of a Husband, for your Brother's Daughter, is very obliging; you well know how much I lov'd and esteem'd that great Man; with what Advice he cherish'd my Youth, and by his own Commendation, gave me the Credit of being thought Praise-worthy: You cou'd have injoyn'd me, nothing of greater Consequence, or more agreeable, nor any thing I wou'd undertake with more honour, than to chuse a Man fit to continue the Family of Arulenus Rusticus, which indeed might prove a Work of Time, did not Minucius Acilianus, luckily present, who, as young Men do each other (for he is some Years younger) loves me intimately, yet treats me with a Respect due to Age: He is pleas'd to be form'd and instructed by me, as I us'd to be by you. His Country is Bresica, of that Part of our Italy that does yet retain, and keeps up much of the ancient Modesty, Frugality, and even Rusticity. His Father Minucius Macrinus, eminent in the Equestrian Order, for he aimed no higher,

being chose by Vespasian into the Prætorian, with great Constancy preferr'd and honest Ease, to this our Ambition (shall I call it) or Honour. His Grandmother of the Mother's side is Serana Procula of Padua; you are acquainted with the Manners of the Place, yet Serana is to the Patavins an Example of strict Vertue. His Uncle P. Acilius is a Man of singular Discretion, Prudence and Honesty; in truth, you will meet with nothing in the whole Family less agreeable than in your own. Acilianus himself has a great deal of Vigour and Industry, accompany'd with the utmost Modesty. And having already discharged the Offices of Quæstor, Tribune and Prætor with abundance of Credit, yet he has referr'd it to you to make his Court for him. He has a comely Face, a sanguine Complection, his whole Person Gentleman-like, with a becoming Gravity in his Mien, Things, I think, not to be disregarded, but due to the Merit of a virtuous Woman. I am in a doubt, whether I need take notice of the large Estate of his Father; for when I consider you, for whom we propose a Son-in-Law, I think I need not, when I reflect on the common Custom, and even the Laws of the City, which principally have regard to the Fortunes of Men, that seems by no means to be omitted, and to one that thinks of Posterity; this, in the making of a Match, is not the least material Consideration. Perhaps you will think I have indulg'd too much the Love of my Friend in this Account, but I will stake all my Credit you shall find every thing exceed my Description; I love the young Man indeed most ardently, as he deserves; but it is the Duty of Friendship, to be moderate in the Commendation of a Friend.

Epistle XV. To Septitius Clarus.

by Mr. Henley

Very fine, Sir! You are engag'd to Supper, and flinch; we have an Action against you for it, and you shall pay Costs to a Farthing, and find no very short Bill neither.

We had all Preparations in Form, a Lettuce to each Plate, three Snails, a Cake, with Mead, and a Refreshment of Snow, for this shall be in your Reckoning; nay, this in the first Place, that is waste and perishes on the Table; Spanish Olives, Gourds, Shalots, and a Thousand other Delicacies of that kind. You might have regal'd your Ears with a Player, a Reader, a Professor of the String, or, according to my Generosity, with all of them. But you was detain'd with I don't know who, and with other Fare, Oysters,

Haslet, Rarities of Fish, and Spanish Dances.

You shall be punished for this more than I will at present tell you. It was very uncivilly done of you; you injured your self, as well as me in it. Heavens! How we might have been Diverted, have laugh'd and amus'd our selves! It is true, you may Sup with more Elegance in many Places; but no where with more Gaiety, Mirth, and honest Freedom. In short, do but try; and if after one Proof, you do not make your Excuse to your other Companions, then I will agree to accept of it.

Farewel.

Epistle XVI. To Euritius.

by the Same. [Mr. Henley]

I was charm'd with Pompeius Saturninus, our Friend, I mean: And was commending his Wit, before I knew the Variety, the Turn, the Plenty of it: But now I am his compleat Admirer. I have heard him pleading with Acuteness and Fire, and with equal Politeness and Grace, either upon Premeditation,

or without it. He abounds in proper Expressions, a weighty and a decent Frame of Discourse, and Words that are Sounding, and of the antient Standard. This is all wonderfully pleasing, when it is carried on with a certain Force and Rapidity; and no less pleasing, when it is more restrain'd. You will come into my Sentiment, when you peruse his Orations; which you will easily match with any of the Antients, that he aims at Copying. And yet the same Man will oblige you more in History, by the Brevity, the Light, the Sweetness, the Splendor, and also by the Sublimity of Speaking. For there is the same Force in other Popular Discourses, as in Orations; only it is more close, drawn in, and circumscribed.

Besides, he writes a Verse equal to that of my Friend Catullus, or Calvus. What Elegance, Taste, Piquancy, Love, does he throw into it! But then, when he labours upon it, he works out a Number that have something more of the soft, the light, or the harsh; after the manner again of my Catullus or Calvus. He read to me lately a few Letters, which he assured me were done by his Spouse, I thought it was Plautus or Terence in a Prose-Dress.

Whether they be of her Hand, as he avows, or of his, which he denies, it is certain, or of his, which he denies, it is certain, that he merits the same Approbation for the Make of them, or the Refining of her,

whom he Married a young Maid, to that Ability. I have him with me all the Day; and tho' he is still the same, before, or after I write, or when I retain him, yet he is ever new to me in the Perusal. I would persuade you to do the like; for it ought to be no disadvantage to his Works, that he is a Living Author.

Shall our Admiration of him, now present, be the less, when if he had been an Antient, we should have been eager in search, not only of his Books, but the Pictures, or Statues of him? It is a Mark of a base and an evil Nature, not to admire a Man that is entitled to it, because we happen to view, to converse with, to hear, to be free with him; and not only to applaud, but cultivate a Friendship with him.

Epistle XVII. To Cornelius Titian.

by Mr. M.

Men have not yet lost all regard to the Offices of Friendship, there are some that carry it, even beyond the Grave. Titinius Capito obtained leave of our Emperor

to place a Statue of L. Syllanus in the Forum. It is a handsome thing, and Praise worthy; so to use the Friendship of the Prince, and to try the Strength of your Interest, by the Honours of others. It is very much Capito's way, to shew regard to Men of Worth, it is wonderful in what Veneration, with what Satisfaction he had (in his own House when he may) the Images of the Bruti, the Cassii, the Cato's, and celebrates with excellent Verses, the Actions of each Great Man. You will easily believe he abounds in those Virtues himself he so loves in others. L. Syllanus has due Honour done him, whose immortality Capito has not better provided for, than his own, for it is not more Honourable or Remarkable to have, than to set up a Statue in the Forum of the Roman People.

Epistle XVIII. To Tranquillus.

by Mr. Henley.

You write, that you apprehend some ill Fate in your Cause, on the alarm of a Dream: And desire me to get an adjournment of it for some Days. 'Tis difficult to

excuse a hearing to Morrow; however, I will make a Trial:

For Dreams themselves are from the Hand of Jove.

Yet it is of consequence to reflect, whether the usual Event be agreeable, or reverse to it. When I think upon mine, what is dreadful to you, seems to portend a Successful Action. I had undertaken the Cause of Julius Pastor, when my Mother-in-Law appear'd to me, in my Sleep, imploring upon her Knees, that I would not be employ'd in it. I was a young Fellow; the Action was Quadripartite, laid before a Bench, consisting of four different Courts in one; my Antagonists were Men of the greatest Power in the Town, and of nearness to the Emperor. Any of which Articles might shake my Courage after so Melancholly a Dream; Yet I appeared in it; thinking of the Verse;

The happiest Omen is to Guard my Country:

For my Duty to my Friend was as dear to me as my Country, and this is to my Soul the most darling Consideration; it ended luckily. And that very Action spread my Name abroad, and open'd the Doors of Fame. Look, if you can imitate this Pattern, and convert your Dream to advantage: Or if you think the Rule of the most wary sort of Men to be most secure, write me back your Scruples. I will find out

some turn or other, and so manage your Affair, that you may your self pursue it, when you please. For in truth, your Case is different from mine; since the Judgment of the Centumvirate cannot be delay'd; your Process may be suspended, tho' with great difficulty. Farewel.

Epistle XIX. To Romanus Firmus.

by the Same. [Mr. Henley.]

You are my Towns-Man, my School-Fellow, and Partner in the same House, from my earliest Age. Your Father was well known to our Family and my self, as far as the Diversity of our Age has allow'd. All these are powerful Reasons, why I ought to engage in your Honour, and to augment it.

Your Post of Decurion among us is a Proof that your Income is a Hundred Sesterces; now to enjoy you not only in that Dignity, but also as a Roman Knight, I make you an offer of Three Hundred more, to make up the legal income of that Order. I promise my self from the Constancy of our Friendship, that you will not be forgetful of

this Present. I do not admonish you, (which I ought to do, if I was not assur'd you would do it by voluntary Choice) to make as moderate a Use of the Advantage I have given you, as possible: For, that Honour, is to be guarded with the utmost Nicety, in which the kindness of a Friend is at once to be supported.

Epistle XX. To Cornelius Tacitus.

by the Same. [Mr. Henley.]

I Have often enter'd into a Dispute with a certain Person of Skill and Learning, who is the most highly pleas'd with a concise manner of Pleading. I agree to this if the Subject allows it; otherwise it is a Prevarication to pass over what ought to be express'd; or lightly to glance upon what is to be inculcated, press'd home, and repeated. For some Matters gain a certain Force and Weight by a longer stay upon them: Like the stroke of a Sword upon the Body. Upon this he fights me with Authority, and shows, among the Greeks the Orations of Lysias; among our Countrymen, those of the Gracchi, and

of Cato, most of which are Remarkable for shortness.

I oppose to Lysias, Demosthenes, Æschines, Hyperides, and many others; to the Gracchi, and Cato, I oppose Pollio, Cæsar, Celius, and especially Marcus Tullius, whose best Oration is esteemed to be the largest. And really, a good Piece is like other good things, the larger the better. You are sensible that Statues, Figures, Pictures, Forms of Men, and other Animals, even of Trees, if they be Handsome, are recommended by nothing more then their Size. It is the same in Orations, and even a Volume it self takes a certain Grandeur and Beauty from the Bulk of it.

These, and several other Arguments of mine to the same purpose, as he is very slippery, and hard to be seiz'd, he so eludes, as to insist, that these very Masters of Pleading I build upon, spake less than they publish'd, I am of another Opinion. Witness many Orations by several Hands, and that of Cicero for Murena, and for Varenus; in which the Title only has a short and naked Account of some Crimes in the Charge. By this it appears, that he omitted in the Publication a good deal that was deliver'd in the Pleading. In his Oration for Cluentius, he tells us, That he Pleaded the whole Cause by himself, according to the antient Institution, and enlarg'd that of Cornelius to four Days. Which is an Assurance, that what he utter'd

more extensively in many Days, as Occasion requir'd, after that was retrench'd, and narrow'd into one Book; tho' pretty Bulky. But a good Pleading is one thing, and an Oration another.

Some, I know, are of this Sense; but I (indeed I may be mistaken) am persuaded, it is possible, a Pleading may be good, and not make a good Oration: But a good Oration must be a good Pleading. For the Oration is the true Model and original Plea of the other. And therefore in the best of them we find a Thousand different manners of Speaking, that are unstudied. And in those, which we only know to be Published, as in those against Verres, the following Words — An Artist who? Well admonished, they reported it was Polycletus — Therefore it follows, that a Pleading is most compleat, which bears the nearest Resemblance to the Oration, if it has a just Time. But if that be denied, it is no Fault in the Oration, but a very great one in the Judge. The Laws second my Opinion, which indulge the longest Space of Time to the Speaker, and do not prescribe a Brevity, but a Copiousness of Speaking, that is, Study and Care: Which is not answer'd by Brevity, except in the shortest Causes. I will add, that I am taught by Practice, an excellent Master; I have often bore the Function of Advocate, Judge, and Council. Men are

differently mov'd, and the smallest things often draw on the greatest. The Judgments, and Tastes of Men are various; so that many in hearing the same Cause, go often into a different, and sometimes into the same Opinion, by divers Motions of the Mind. Besides, each favours his own Invention, and embraces that as the strongest, which he himself foresaw, when it is said by another.

Therefore all must have something offer'd, to receive, and acknowledge, for their own; Regulus told me once, when we were together in Court, that I thought the whole extent of Matters belonging to the Cause, was to be taken in; now I presently see the Stress of it, and there I fix (he does indeed fix on the Point he chuses, but often errs in the Choice of it) I reply'd, what he call'd the Stress, or the Neck of the Cause, might be some other Part, the Knee, the Leg, the Ankle of it, by way of Comparison: But I, who cannot discover that, attempt all, and turn every stone. And as in Agriculture, I do not only cultivate the Vineyards, but the Underwood, and the Fields; and there, not only the Bread-Corn, or the fine Wheat, but the Barley, Beans, and other kinds of Pulse. So in Pleading, I do as it were cast a variety of Seeds widely, that I may get in the entire Produce of the whole.

For the Tempers of the Judges are as unknown, uncertain, and Deceitful, as those of the Seasons and of Soils. Nor am I Ignorant that Pericles the great Orator, is thus applauded by Eupolis the Comic Poet.

Perswasive softness hung upon his Lips;
That gently cast a sting into the Hearer.

But then this same Pericles would not have been Master of that Charm, and that Softness, by his Brevity, or Swiftness, or both, (for they are different, ) without the greatest Faculty of Speaking. For to delight, and to persuade, requires a Copiousness, and a compass of Speaking: But to leave a Sting in the Mind of the Hearer belongs to him, that does not only give a Poignancy, but the deepest Impression. Add, what another Comic Poet has said of the same Pericles.

His Thunder Struck, his Lightning Fir'd the Greeks.

For it is not a Copy'd and a maim'd Expression, but one that is Ample, Magnificent, Lofty, which carries that force of Thunder and Lightning, as to bear down and astonish the Audience at Will. But Moderation is the best; who denies it? And yet that Law is broken, as well by him that Speaks too little, as too much; by a too close, as well as too

Diffusive a Style. So that you often hear it Remarked, such a thing was Immoderate, and Redundant; such a thing was Jejune, and Feeble. One is said to have exceeded his Matter, another not to have fill'd it. Both equally offend, but one by Infirmity, the other, by Force: Which certainly is a Mark, tho' not of a more Correct, yet of a greater Wit. Not that upon this Head, I approve the excessive Speaker in Homer, but he who is Represented to let fall,

His Copious Language like the Winter Snow.

And yet I am extreamly pleas'd with him, in the same Author,

Whose words were few but Marvellously sweet.

Yet if I was to chuse, I should pitch upon that kind of Speech, that resembles the Winter Snow; that is, frequent, pressing, large, and in short, Divine and Heavenly. But you will object, a short Pleading is more grateful to many. It is so; but only to the Supine, whose affected Nicety and Indolence of Humour, it is Ridiculous to call a Judgment. For if you advise with them, you must not only Speak briefly, but not at all.

This is so far my Opinion, which I will alter, if you disagree with it. But I would desire you to explain upon the Reason. For

tho' I ought to yield to your Authority, yet I think it is more just, in so great a Subject, to be subdu'd by Reason, than Authority. And therefore, if I be not mistaken, let me know it in a Letter, however short you will make it: For that will confirm my Judgment; if otherwise let me have an Epistolary return, as long as possible.

I have not Corrupted you, in imposing the Tie of a short Letter upon you, supposing you come into my Opinion, and of a very long one, if you should dissent from me.

Epistle XXI. To Paternus.

by the Same. [Mr. Henley.]

I Ascribe very much both to the Delicacy of your Mind, and your Eye, not that you abound so much in Wisdom (do not flatter your self) but because you possess as much of it, as I have; and that is not inconsiderable. Without Jesting, I do imagine they are handsome Servants, that I have purchas'd by your Advice: I have only one thing to desire, and that is, to find them useful; which, in the case of these Market-Slaves, is better judg'd by hearing, than viewing of them.

Epistle XXII. To Catilius Severus.

by Mr. M.

I Am kept thus long in the City, by the sad Apprehension of the Danger Titus Aristo is in, from a long and stubborn Illness; one for whom I have a particular Love and Esteem: There is not a Man of more Prudence, of more Virtue or greater Learning; so that not He only, but in him Learning, and all the Politer Arts seem to be in the utmost Danger. what a Master is he of the Roman, as well as Civil Law? What a Treasure is he of Knowledge, of Precedents, of Antiquity, there is not any thing you would know, of which he cannot inform you? Whenever I am in doubt, he is to mean Oracle; what Truth, what Authority is there in all he says? How Graceful in him is Demur? What is there he does not presently comprehend? Yet he commonly deliberates; all his Doubt arises from the Diversity of Reasons, which he, with a piercing Judgment looks into, weighs, and searches to the bottom. His Temperance in Diet, the Plainness of his Dress, whenever I make him a Visit, give me a true Representation of our ancient Frugality. All

these Accomplishments are adorn'd with a greatness of Soul, that does nothing for Ostentation, but acts upon Principle, and takes no Satisfaction in publick Applause, but in a Consciensciousness of doing well. There is no Comparison betwixt him and those that affect the Philosophers: He does not indeed follow the Schools, the Portico, or in long Disputations trifle away his own, and the Time of others; but in the true Business of his Profession is useful to many at the Bar, to more by his Advice. And to the best of Philosophers, in Integrity, Vertue, Justice and Fortitude, is not at all inferiour. Were you present, you would admire to see with what Patience he bears this Illness; how he struggles with the Pain, how he endures the Thrift, how he lyes without Motion, loaded with Cloaths, that the incredible heat of his Fever may perspire. He lately sent for me, and a few select Friends, and desired we would consult the Physicians about the issue of his Distemper, that if it were incurable, they might put an end to his Pain by Death; that if it were only dangerous, and like to be long, he wou'd endure it with Patience, and wait the Event: That there was such Prevalence in the Entreaties of his Wife, the Tears of his Daughter, and the Desire of Us, his Friends, that he would not frustrate our Hopes (if they had any ground) by a voluntary Death. This is most exalted, and worthy the highest Commendation. For excited by Passion, it is common for Men to run into the Arms of Death. But to deliberate, and weigh the Causes of it, and so to fix a Resolution, as the Reasons of Life or Death prevail, is the act of a great Mind only. The Physicians have given us Hope, God grant them Success, and me a release from this Trouble; then shall I return to my Laurentium, and again enjoy a studious Recess; for while I am watching him, my Anxiety will not suffer me to Read or Write. Thus have I vented to you, my Fears, my Wishes, and even my Designs; do you in return let me know how you have been employ'd, what you are doing, and what you intend, in a long Letter. It will be no small Consolation in present Uneasiness to find you have no Complaint.

Epistle XXIII. To Pompeius Falco.

by the Same. [Mr. M.]

You enquire, whether it be proper for you to persue your Employ in the Law, during the time of you Tribuneship. It is of Consequence, what is your Idea, of it: Whether you think it an empty Shadow,

and a Title without Authority, or a Power that is Sacred, and not to be control'd. When I was Tribune, I was perhaps mistaken in thinking my self, to be of any Moment; but I manag'd no Causes as if I had been so. First, because I conceiv'd, it was very unseemly for a Man to stand when all were sitting, to whom all were oblig'd in Honour, to give Place: And for him to be under a Command of silence by the Glass, who had a right to enjoyn it to the whole Assembly; or for one, that ought not to be Interrupted, to hear a Reproach, and be accounted void of Spirit if he took it un-noted, or insolent, if he reveng'd it. And I had another disorder in my Eye, if either my Client, or Adversary should chance to aid him, or rest in Silence, and make my self a Private Man, as if I had abjur'd my Office. Upon these Motives, I rather chuse to be a Tribune to all, than an Advocate to a few. But I repeat it, you are much concern'd, to have a just Impression of this Office; and what Character you ought to assume; which a Man of Sense should adapt in that manner, as to keep it up with Decency.

Epistle XXIV. To Bebius Hispanus.

by the Same. [Mr. M.]

Tranquillus, an Acquaintance of mine, has a mind to buy a Farm, that a Friend of yours (as I am told) intends to part with. Pray take care to make as good a Bargain for him as you can, for so he will be pleas'd with the Purchase, a dear Bargain being ever disagreeable to the Owner, as it seems to reproach his Judgment. But in this Farm, if the Price please, there are many things that suit my Tranquillus's tast: the little Distance from the City, the Convenience of the Road, the Smallness of the House, the Quantity of Ground, that may rather amuse then employ; for to Men studiously inclin'd, as he is, so much Ground is abundantly sufficient, as will serve to relieve the Mind, and divert the Eye, that when they step out, they may in one Walk, and at one View, see the Condition of this Plantation. I have given you this Account, that you may know how much I shall oblige him, and you me, if he buys that little Farm thus accommodated, upon so easy Terms, as my leave no room for Repentance.