mould not languish in Purgatory, tho’ he knew very well I should go to another place. But as it was the promise of a tricking _Jesuit_, so I did not much credit it, nor was much surpriz’d to see myself turn’d into a sty, among a company of boars and old lascivious goats, a sort of animals I had formerly been well acquainted with at my palace in _Rome_, and who came then grunting and leaping to embrace me. I cannot in this place hear of the poor gentleman whom I murthered; I asked one of my he-companions concerning him, who knows no more of him than I do; therefore I verily believe he is among the martyrs. _The Answer of a young_ Vestal _to the_ Queen. Good Heavens! Madam, how piously did your majesty begin your letter! and what pleasure did I take to see such hopeful dispositions to virtue! But what was that enchanting vice that put you out of the good road? Was it the Devil? If so, why did you not make use of holy-water? For we, poor creatures, oppose no other buckler against the darts of _Satan_, when he conjures up the frailty of the flesh to disturb us: but I beg your pardon, you were then a _Lutheran_, and holy-water has no efficacy, but only for true _Catholicks_. My confessor has so often preached charity to me, that I cannot but bewail the fate of the poor gentleman you lov’d so dearly, and treated so barbarously. Oh, my dear St. _Francis_! What sort of love was that! And how unfortunate are those precious souls that have parts of pleasing you! One may very well perceive, by that piece of barbarity, you neither believed Purgatory, or fear’d Hell; and I would not have been guilty of such an action for all your excellent qualities and grandeur. I hear you talk’d of sometimes, and in such a manner, that it makes me often sigh, pant, and pull down my veil; and I feel a terrible fit coming upon me by reading your confession. _Madam, I much rejoice to hear,_ _You’ll take a stone up in your ear;_ _For I’m a frail transgressor too,_ _And I we the sport as well as you,_ _But then I chuse to do the work._ _Within the pale of holy kirk:_ _For absolution cures the scars_ } _Contracted in venereal wars,_ } _And saves our sex a world of prayers._} _Had you this ghostly counsel taken,_ _You might till now have sav’d your bacon._ _’Tis safe intriguing with a flamen_ } _Who sanctifies their work with Amen,_ } _Then who would trust ungodly laymen?_ } _Do, Madam, as you please, but I_ } _None but with priesthood will employ,_ } _With them I’ll live, with them I’ll die._} _Who like the_ Pelion _spear are sure,_ _With the same ease they wound to cure_.