It is some time since (you know) that I took my leave of you, and the sun, and I fear’d of all good company too. My curiosity to observe the nature of an affair, whereof every body talks, tho’ not one of them can understand, made me so long silent; that if it were possible I might give my friends some account or other that should be of moment to them, either for diversion or improvement. Your weighty affairs prevent the one, and your capacity the other; but that you may see friendship as well as virtue survives the grave, I address this to you, to assure you, we are not annihilated, as some philosophers opened, and that our felicity does not consist in an unactive indolence as others as vainly pretended. Virtue is its own reward, and vice its own punishment. We are so refined here, that nothing can veil evil from the piercing eyes of every body, and the malice and envy of the most inveterate devils cannot over-cast the glories of the good. We impute a great many faults to the frailty of the flesh very unjustly. The soul hath its warpings as well as the clay, and some vices are so natural that we cannot extinguish them, tho’ we may in some measure prevent their flaming out and boiling over. These remain still, and employ all the utmost efforts of our prudence to triumph over; and if we accomplish that, we are perfect; but if the malignity of our tempers prevail, we sink to the lowest abyss of infamy, shame, and disgrace. This laid the foundation of that doctrine of _Rome_, called Purgatory; and their ignorance, joined to their insatiable avarice, improved it to what at present you find it. Here is one duke of _Buckingham_, perpetually conferring with the _Spanish_ ministers; the other as busy in finding out the mighty secrets of impertinent curiosities; here’s _Mazarine_ supplanting the liberty of _Europe_, and _Cromwell_ that of _England_. _Shaftsbury_ is pushing on _Monmouth_, and he is stiled king by one of his own footmen only; _Dryden_ is every minute at _Homer_’s heels, or pulling _Virgil_ by the sleeve, importuning _Horace_, or making friends to _Ovid_: but _Cowley_, with a serenity of mind that constitutes his felicity, quietly passes along the _Elysian_ plains, disturbing no body, and undisturb’d of all, _Milton_ his companion, and himself his happiness. The less considerable fry of wits are just as contentious here, as at _Covent Garden_; as noisy, and as ill-natur’d; every man in particular arrogating all to himself, and allowing nothing to others. The dispute rose so high, and the uproar continued so long, that _Pluto_ commanded a squadron of his life-guard, with _Juvenal_ at their head, to force them out of the laurel-grove, and lock it up till matters should be adjusted by _Apollo_, to whom he detach’d _Lucan_ and _Lee_ (as being the best skill’d in flying) with his complaints; they are returned with a proclamation, which for its novelty I will trouble you with; not but