wicked _Satan_ to decoy thee into his trapsoul of eternal darkness, he has done thee but justice to put thee into a fool’s coat, that every time thou art thoughtful of thy miserable confinement, thou may’st look upon thy party-coloured livery, and cry with a pitiful voice, alas, what a fool am I! which is all the comfort thy friends who are sorrowful for thy condition, are able to administer unto thee at this immensurable distance. We are very glad to here that _Satan_ is no niggard in his family, but like a generous host, provides so plentiful a table for his numerous guests: we thy Friends upon earth, have taken his infernal food into our serious consideration, and have resolv’d, _nemine contradicente_, to lead a starving life upon earth, rather than enter his palace-gate to be beholden to him for a dinner. We shew’d thy bill of fare to our friend _Roberts_, at the _White hart_ in _Chancery-lane_, approv’d by the wicked men of the law, who love to profane their stomachs with fine feeding, to be as nice a gratifier of luxurious palates as ever handled ladle; and he declareth for truth, by the motion of the spirit, that tho’ he has often roasted a cod’s-head larded with bacon without tying it upon the spit, boil’d a pound of butter stuff’d with anchovies without melting it, grilliado’d jelly of harts-horn without dissolving it, fry’d a jackboot into incomparable tripe, stew’d pebble-stones till they have become as soft as stew’d prunes, and has made good savoury sauce with an addled egg and kitchin-stuff, yet he acknowledges himself wholly ignorant how to dress any one dish thou hast mentioned in the catalogue of thy dainties, and therefore desires thou wilt do him the friendly kindness to acquaint us in the next letter, what sort of cook _Satan_ has got in his kitchin; and if he be a friend, whether thou think’st our friend _Coquus_’s wife mayn’t be admitted as his scullion, in case she would become a servant in thy master’s family, for she is grown so peevish, he is willing to part with her. So hoping thou wilt give us an account the next opportunity, we rest thy, _Loving Friends_. From LILLY to COOLEY the _Almanack-maker_ in Baldwin’s-Gardens. _My dear old bottle-friend and companion_,