you will not speak so much as we cou'd wish. I dare not excuse your Lordship from this fault; for though tis none in you, tis one to all who have the happiness of being known to you. I must confess the Criticks make it one of Virgil's Beauties, that having said what he thought convenient, he always left somewhat for the Imagination of his Readers to supply: That they might gratifie their fancies, by finding more, in what he had written, than at first they cou'd; and think they had added to his thought, when it was all there before-hand, and he only sav'd himself the expence of words. However it was, I never went from your Lordship, but with a longing to return, or without a hearty Curse to him who invented Ceremonies in the World, and put me on the necessity of withdrawing, when it was my interest as well as my desire, to have given you a much longer trouble. I cannot imagine (if your Lordship will give me leave to speak my thoughts) but you have had a more than ordinary vigour in your Youth. For too much of heat is requir'd at first, that there may not too little be left at last. A Prodigal Fire is only capable of large remains: And yours, my Lord, still burns the clearer in declining. The Blaze is not so fierce as at the first, but the Smoak is wholly vanish'd; and your Friends who stand about you, are not only
