The Cardinal de Richelieu, notwithstanding his wit, had often fits of distraction.  Sometimes he would fancy himself a horse, and run jumping about a billiard-table, neighing and snorting; this would last an hour, at the end of which his people would put him to bed and cover him up closely to induce perspiration; when he awoke the fit had passed and did not appear again.

The Archbishop of Paris reprimanded the Bishop of Gap on the bad reputation which he had acquired in consequence of his intercourse with women.  “Ah, Monseigneur,” replied the Bishop of Gap, “if you knew what you talk of, you would not be astonished.  I lived the first forty years of my life without experiencing it; I don’t know what induced me to venture on it, but, having done so, it is impossible to refrain.  Only try it for once, Monseigneur, and you will perceive the truth of what I tell you.”

[This Bishop, whose name was Herve, had lived in prudence and regularity up to the age of fifty, when he began, on a sudden, to lead a very debauched life.  They compelled him to give up his Bishopric, which he did on condition of being allowed to stay at Paris as much as he chose.  He continued to live in perpetual pleasure, but towards the close of his career he repented of his sins and engaged with the Capuchin missionaries.]

This Bishop is now living in the village of Boulogne, near Paris:  he is a little priest, very ugly, with a large head and fiery red face.

Our late King said, “I am, I confess, somewhat piqued to see that, with all the authority belonging to my station in this country, I have exclaimed so long against high head-dresses, while no one had the complaisance to lower them for me in the slightest degree.  But now, when a mere strange English wench arrives with a little low head-dress, all the Princesses think fit to go at once from one extremity to another.”

A Frenchman who had taken refuge in Holland informed me by letter of what was passing with respect to the Prince of Orange.  Thinking that I should do the King a service by communicating to him these news, I hastened to him, and he thanked me for them.  In the evening, however, he said to me, smiling, “My Ministers will have it that you have been misinformed, and that your correspondent has not written you one word of truth.”  I replied, “Time will show which is better informed, your Majesty’s Ministers or my correspondent.  For my own part, Sire, my intention at least was good.”

Some time afterwards, when the report of the approaching accession of William to the throne of England became public, M. de Torcy came to me to beg I would acquaint him with my news.  I replied, “I receive none now; you told the King that what I formerly had was false, and upon this I desired my correspondents to send me no more, for I do not love to spread false reports.”  He laughed, as he always did, and said, “Your news have turned out to be quite