and to repay.  But who can bear to lay their laurels by?  Corilla is gay by nature, and witty, if I may say so, by habit; replete with fancy, and powerful to combine images apparently distant.  Mankind is at last more just to people of talents than is universally allowed, I think.  Corilla, without pretensions either to immaculate character (in the English sense), deep erudition, or high birth, which an Italian esteems above all earthly things, has so made her way in the world, that all the nobility of both sexes crowd to her house; that no Prince passes through Florence without waiting on Corilla; that the Capitol will long recollect her being crowned there, and that many sovereigns have not only sought her company, but have been obliged to put up with slights from her independent spirit, and from her airy, rather than haughty behaviour.  She is, however, (I cannot guess why) not rich, and keeps no carriage; but enjoying all the effect of money, convenience, company, and general attention, is probably very happy; as she does not much suffer her thoughts of the next world to disturb her felicity in this, I believe, while willing to turn every thing into mirth, and make all admire her wit, even at the expence of their own virtue.  The following Epigram, made by her, will explain my meaning, and give a specimen of her present powers of improvisation, undecayed by ill health; and I might add, undismayed by it.  An old gentleman here, one Gaetano Testa Grossa had a young wife, whose name was Mary, and who brought him a son when he was more than seventy years old.  Corilla led him gaily into the circle of company with these words: 

    “Miei Signori Io vi presento
      Il buon Uomo Gaetano;
    Che non sa che cosa sia
      Il misterio sovr’umano
    Del Figliuolo di Maria.”

Let not the infidels triumph however, or rank among them the truly-illustrious Corilla!  ’Twas but the rage, I hope, of keeping at any rate the fame she has gained, when the sweet voice is gone, which once enchanted all who heard it—­like the daughters of Pierius in Ovid.

And though I was exceedingly entertained by the present improvisatrice, the charming Fantastici, whose youth, beauty, erudition, and fidelity to her husband, give her every claim upon one’s heart, and every just pretension to applause, I could not, in the midst of that delight, which classick learning and musical excellence combined to produce, forbear a grateful recollection of the civilities I had received from Corilla, and half-regretting that her rival should be so successful;

    For tho’ the treacherous tapster, Thomas,
    Hangs a new angel ten doors from us,
    We hold it both a shame and sin
    To quit the true old Angel Inn.

Well! if some people have too little appearance of respect for religion, there are others who offend one by having too much, and so the balance is kept even.