Thus, Sir, I have written you a Book rather than a Letter; and if I have offended you in it, the fault is yours rather than mine: What I did was at your Request, and Readiness to please a Friend, hath always been counted a Vertue in Friendship. Yet I hope these Things will be as pleasant for you to Read, as they were delightful for me to Write; for, let me tell you, as soon as I put Pen to Paper, I love to wander abroad in my Mind, that so I may as it were, deceive my Confinement as long as I can, and converse with you as if we were together. What things seem frivolous and needless, you must take, as proceeding by word of Mouth in familiar Conferences among Friends. Men may be allow’d to tittle tattle in a Letter, as well as in common Discourse. If I were to write Inscriptions for Churches and Temples, to be seen of all Men, Circumspection and Care must be used; but not when I write to you and a few private Friends. I aim not at Fame; if my Lines please you, I have enough. You will say, perhaps, I might have written better Latin: I grant it; but what if it were beyond my Ability? It was not for want of any good will; and yet, let me ask you, what good Latin can come out of uncouth _Greece_, or barbarous _Turkey_? If you have any Value for my Letters, you shall have more of them after my Return to _Vienna_, if ever God permit me to return: If not, excuse the last Trouble I shall give you. Farewell. _Constantinople_, June 1st. _SIR_,