Mangogul departed, and found himself in an instant close to the jonquil Sofa, embroidered with silver, on which Callipiga was reposing. Scarcely had he turned his ring on her, but he heard an obscure voice, which mutter’d out the following discourse. “What do you ask me? I do not comprehend your questions. I am not as much as thought of: and yet I fancy I am as good as another. Mirolo, it is true, often passes by my door, but⁠—”

There is a considerable deficiency in this place. The Republic of Letters would certainty have great obligations to the person, who would restore the discourse of Callipiga’s Toy, of which we have only the two last lines remaining. We invite the learned to study them, and consider whether this deficiency be not a voluntary omission of the author, dissatisfied with what he had said, and who yet found nothing better to say.

“It is said that my rival has altars beyond the Alps. Alas! were it not for Mirolo, the whole universe would erect some to me.”