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As for the wicked expedients you advise me to, I am not in a condition to practise them, neither is she in humour to suffer them. If I must sit up all night, they tell me I have not yet seen forty. If I am to take a long journey in the wind and rain, what a noble constitution has M. de St. Evremond! But if I lay my head close to hers, smell to her hair, or kiss the tip of her ear, I am presently asked, whether I knew Madam Gabrielle[1], and if I made my court to Mary de Medicis? But my Paper fails me. Place me, I pray, among your solid Friends, immediately after M. de Canaples[2]. The miracle of love presents her service to you.
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