done their parts by you. Let not your own be wanting. To what purpose live we, if not to grow wiser, and to subdue our passions? Dear Lady! Illustrious woman! How often have you been subdued by the violence of yours; and to what submissions has your generous repentance subjected you, even to your inferiors! Let me not be thought a boaster—But I will presume to say, that I am the rather intitled to advise, as I have made it my endeavour (and, I bless God, have not been always unsuccessful) to curb my passions. They are naturally violent. What do I owe to the advice of an excellent man, whom I early set up as my monitor? Let me, in this Letter, be yours.
Your situation in life, your high birth, your illustrious line of ancestors, are so many calls upon you, in whom the riches and the consequence of so many noble progenitors centre, to act worthy of their names, of their dignities, of your own; and of the dignity of your Sex. The world looks up to you (your education, too, so greatly beyond that of most Italian Ladies) with the expectation of an example—Yet have not evil reports already gone out upon your last excursion? The world will not see with our eyes, nor judge as we would have it, and as we sometimes know it ought to judge. My visit to Italy, when you were absent from it, and in England, was of service to your fame. The malignant world, at present, holds itself suspended in its censures; and expects, from your suture conduct, either a confutation or a confirmation of them. It is, therefore, still in your power (rejoice, madam, that it is!) for ever to establish, or for ever to depreciate, your character, in the judgment both of friends and enemies.
How often have I seen passion, and evenrage, deform features that are really lovely! Shall it be said, that your great fortune, your abundance, has been a snare to you? That you would have been a happier, nay

a better woman, had not God so bountifully blessed you?
Can your uatural generosity of temper allow you to bear such an imputation, as that the want of power only can keep you within the limits (Pardon, Olivia, the lover of your fame!) which the gentleness of your Sex, which true honour, prescribe?
You are a young Lady. Three fourths of your natural life (Heaven permitting) are yet to come.