ve to the Publick, it would be a very great piece of Charity in you
to lend me your Assistance in this Conjuncture. If after the reading
of this Letter you find your self in a Humour, rather to Rally and
Ridicule, than to Comfort me, I desire you would throw it into the
Fire, and think no more of it; but if you are touched with my
Misfortune, which is greater than I know how to bear, your Counsels
may very much Support, and will infinitely Oblige the afflicted
_LEONORA_.'

A Disappointment in Love is more hard to get over than any other; the
Passion itself so softens and subdues the Heart, that it disables it
from struggling or bearing up against the Woes and Distresses which
befal it. The Mind meets with other Misfortunes in her whole Strength;
she stands collected within her self, and sustains the Shock with all
the Force [which [3]] is natural to her; but a Heart in Love has its
Foundations sapped, and immediately sinks under the Weight of Accidents
that are disagreeable to its Favourite Passion.

In Afflictions Men generally draw their Consolations out of Books of
Morality, which indeed are of great use to fortifie and strengthen the
Mind against the Impressions of Sorrow. Monsieur St. _Evremont_, who
does not approve of this Method, recommends Authors [who [4]] are apt to
stir up Mirth in the Mind of the Readers, and fancies _Don Quixote_ can
give more Relief to an heavy Heart than _Plutarch_ or _Seneca_, as it is
much easier to divert Grief than to conquer it. This doubtless may have
its Effects on some Tempers. I should rather have recourse to Authors of
a quite contrary kind, that give us Instances of Calamities and
Misfortunes, and shew Human Nature in its greatest Distresses.

If the Affliction we groan under be very heavy, we shall find some
Consolation in the Society of as great Sufferers as our selves,
especially when we find our Companions Men of Virtue and Merit. If our
Afflictions are light, we shall be comforted by the Comparison we make
between our selves and our Fellow Sufferers. A Loss at Sea, a Fit of
Sickness, or the Death of a Friend, are such Trifles when we consider
whole Kingdoms laid in Ashes, Families put to the Sword, Wretches shut
up in Dungeons, and the like Calamities of Mankind, that we are out of
Countenance for our own Weakness, if we sink under such little Stroaks
of Fortune.

Let the Disconsolate _Leonora_ consider, that at the very time in which
she languishes for