The following letter wants such sudden despatch, that all things else must wait for this time.
"There are two ladies, who, having a good opinion of your taste and judgment, desire you to make use of them in the following particular, which perhaps you may allow very particular. The two ladies before mentioned have a considerable time since contracted a more sincere and constant friendship than their adversaries the men will allow consistent with the frailty of female nature; and being from a long acquaintance convinced of the perfect agreement of their tempers, have thought upon an expedient to prevent their separation, and cannot think any so effectual (since it is common for love to destroy friendship) as to give up both their liberties to the same person in marriage. The gentleman they have pitched upon, is neither well-bred nor agreeable, his understanding moderate, and his person never designed to charm women; but having so much self-interest in his nature, as to be satisfied with making double contracts, upon condition of receiving double fortunes; and most men being so far sensible of the uneasiness that one woman occasions, they think him for these reasons the most likely person of their acquaintance to receive these proposals. Upon all other accounts, he is the last man either of them would choose, yet for this preferable to all the rest. They desire to know your opinion the next post, resolving to defer further proceeding, till they have received it. I am, Sir,
"Your unknown, unthought-of, Humble Servant, BRIDGET EITHERSIDE."
This is very extraordinary, and much might be objected by me, who am something of a civilian, to the case of two marrying the same man; but these ladies are, I perceive, free-thinkers, and therefore I shall speak only to the prudential part of this design, merely as a philosopher, without entering into the merit of it in the ecclesiastical or civil law. These constant friends, Piledea and Orestea, are at a loss to preserve their friendship from the encroachments of love, for which end they have resolved upon a fellow who cannot be the object of affection or esteem to either, and consequently cannot rob one of the place each has in her friend's heart. But in all my reading (and I have read all that the sages in love have written), I have found the greatest danger in jealousy. The ladies indeed, to avoid this passion, choose a sad fellow; but if they would be advised by me, they had better have each their worthless man; otherwise, he that was despicable while he was indifferent to them, will become valuable when he seems to prefer one to the other. I remember in the history of Don Quixote of the Manca, there is a memorable passage which opens to us the weakness of our nature in such particulars. The Don falls into discourse with a gentleman[155] whom he calls the Knight of the Green Cassock, and is invited to his house. When he comes there, he runs into discourse and panegyric upon the economy, the government and order of his family, the education of his children; and lastly, on the singular wisdom of him who disposed things with that exactness. The gentleman makes a soliloquy to himself, "Oh irresistible power of flattery! Though I know this is a madman, I cannot help being taken with his applause."