Good Lord (cried I) What do I hear? Was there ever such marvellous F----. Yes, my son (interrupted the Count) admire the marvellous felicity of the Sages! Instead of women, whose fading beauty passes away in a short time, and is followed with horrible wrinkles and ugliness, the Philosophers enjoy beauties which never wax old, and whom they have the glory to make immortal. Guess at the love and the acknowledgment of those invisible mistresses, and with what ardour they strive to please the charitable philosopher, who labours to immortalize them.
Ah! Sir (cried I once again), I renounce ----. Yes, you Sir, (pursued he, without giving me the leisure to finish) Renounce the fading pleasures which are to be had with women; the fairest among them all is loathsome in respect of the homeliest Syphide: no displeasure ever follows our Sage embraces. Miserable Ignorants! How should you complain, that ye have not the power to taste of the Philosophick pleasures. Miserable Count de Gabalis (interrupted I, in an accent mixed with Choler and Compasion) Will you give me leave to tell you at last, that I renounce this senseless wisdom; that I find this visionary philosophy very ridiculous; that I detest the abominable embraces which make you affect these Phantasms; and that I tremble for you, and wonder that some one of these pretended Sylphides does not hurry you to Hell, in the middle of your transports and raptures; and for fear, lest so honest a man as you, should not perceive the end of your foolish Chymerick Zeal, and should not repent of so great a crime. Oh! Oh! (answered he) mischief light on thy indocible spirit. His action, I must confess, affrighted me; but it was yet worse, when I perceived, that going further from me, he drew out of his pocket a Paper which I could easily see at that distance to be full of Characters; yet I could not well discern it. He read them gravely, and spake low. I guessed that he was invoking some spirit for my ruin, and repented me more than a little for my inconsiderate Zeal. If I escape this adventure (cried I), I'll never have to do with a Cabalist more. I fixed my eyes upon him, as upon a judge that was ready to condemn me to death; when at last I perceived that his looks became serene. 'Tis hard, (said he, smiling, and coming towards me again) 'Tis hard for you to kick against the Pricks. You are a vessel of Election. Heaven has ordained you to be the greatest Cabalist of your age. Behold the scheme of your Nativity, which cannot fail. If it be not now, and that too by my means, 'twill be a great wonder, as it appears by this Saturn retrograde.