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THE PLAIN DEALER: BEING SELECT ESSAYS ON SEVERAL CURIOUS SUBJECTS, RELATING TO

  • FRIENDSHIP,
  • LOVE, and
  • GALLANTRY,
  • MARRIAGE,
  • MORALITY,
  • MERCANTILE AFFAIRS,
  • PAINTING,
  • HISTORY,
  • POETRY,

AND Other Branches of POLITE LITERATURE.

Publiſh'd Originally in the YEAR 1724. And now firſt Collected into TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

LONDON: Printed for S. Richardſon, and A. Wilde: And ſold by A. BETTESWORTH, J. OSBORN and T. LONGMAN, and J. BATLEY in Pater-Noſter Row; W. INNYS, J. KNAPTON, and C. RIVINGTON, in St. Paul's Church-Yard; J. CLARKE, in Duck-Lane; and J. LEAKE, at Bath. M.DCC.XXX.

THE PLAIN DEALER. No 58.
VOL. II.
FRYDAY, October 9. 1724.

[]
Vulnus alit Venis & coeco carpitur igne.
VIRG.
Connubio jungam ſtabili, propriam (que) dicabo.
Ibid.

A GREAT many are pleaſed, to be very rigid againſt Ladies, who appear firſt in the Declaration of Love, as if acting againſt Cuſtom, was ſinning againſt Right. As many make it their Tenet, that Men, if they but know a Woman loves them, will, ungratefully ſhun her, and play Tricks of an unnatural Diſdain. I doubt not but the Gentleman, who is concerned in the following excellent Letter, will give a Refutation [2] to theſe miſchievous Opinions; and ſhew, for the Honour of one Sex, and the Eaſe of the other, that they ought hereafter, to ſink among vulgar Errors.

To the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

I AM an unhappy Young Woman, that want a little of your Plain Dealing, and good Advice, to help me out in an Affair of the utmoſt Conſequence to my Peace. I am in too much pain, to make a long Introduction; therefore hope you will excuſe me, if I only ſend a ſhort Sketch of my Misfortune, without ſtaying to pay my grateful Thanks, for your agreeable Weekly Entertainments; which I can never enough Admire. I hope you won't think me troubleſome, if I relate the exact Situation of Life, I at preſent am in. I live in a fine Old Seat in Surrey, which wants nothing to render it delightful, to a Perſon of my Temper. Our Family conſiſts of my Father (who is a Widower) an old Maiden Aunt, two Siſters, and my Self. My Father is a very good Man, and employs himſelf moſtly in his Study. My Aunt is of a reſerv'd Temper, therefore ſuffers us to keep but little Company, eſpecially with Gentlemen. There is only one Perſon allow'd that fatal Liberty! Whoſe Character I muſt make you acquainted [3] with: But how, alas! ſhall I do that? Yet if there is ſuch a Thing as Perfection in Mankind, he certainly is Maſter of it. He has ſo fine an Underſtanding in all Arts and Sciences (allow'd by his own Sex) ſo great a Knowledge in every thing that is Polite and Agreeable, and, withal, ſo ſweet a Diſpoſition, that I only wonder, I kept my Heart ſo long free from his irreſiſtable Charms! I have been pretty intimate with him theſe Three Years, but did not know, 'till within theſe Three Months, that my Happineſs or Miſery, depended intirely upon him. In ſhort, I feel ſo violent a Paſſion in my Breaſt, that unleſs I have ſome ſpeedy Relief, Death will ſoon put a Period to my Sorrow! How often have I ſate contemplating his Virtues and Charms, 'till my Soul has almoſt diſſolv'd away in Tenderneſs and Love! I ſigh, I die for him; while he views me with Cold Indifference, or, at beſt, but Luke-warm Friendſhip: Tyrant Cuſtom, and innate Modeſty, forbid my Tongue to utter the Tortures of my Heart. He ſometimes laughs, and ſays, I am all Charms; Oh! what wou'd I give to have him really think ſo! He behaves exactly alike to my ſelf, and Siſters, and yet I can't help being jealous, if he ſpeaks or looks at them. I am all Madneſs and Deſpair! I han't the Vanity to think I can ever pleaſe a Man of his Senſe and Judgment, and yet I go on to love! Sometimes [4] I think my conſtant Paſſion will be rewarded, and that he will like me for my good Nature, which ſome People flatter me, and tell him, I have a great Share of: And as it is a Qualification he very much admires, I ſtrive every Day, to improve it, and to command all thoſe little Paſſions that are incident to our Sex. Was I ſuffer'd to plead for my ſelf, I cou'd tell him, What an obedient Wife I'd make him! How my Duty and Inclinations wou'd both concur, to pleaſe him in all Actions of my Life! When he was abſent, I wou'd entertain my ſelf with his dear Idea! and when he return'd, meet him with inexpreſſible Raptures! I cou'd dwell for ever on the inchanting Subject: But fear I ſhould grow tireſome. This opening of my Grief has been ſome Relief. I almoſt fear to have this publiſhed: I wiſh, yet dread, he ſhould diſcover me. I don't know what to do: Therefore rely wholly upon your Advice. If you print it, correct the bad Engliſh; if you burn it, Remember and Pity

The poor LUCINDA!

WHAT conſtant Companions are Merit and Humility? How does this Lady conclude a Letter that muſt charm every Reader. If you print it, correct the bad Engliſh. It is too good to be corrected. Sincerity, and everlaſting Tenderneſs ſhine forth, in every Sentence. That Perſon who does not plainly perceive, [5] that what Lucinda has written, flow'd from her Heart, muſt have his own Heart ill placed, and removed out of the Way of Nature. If Men could write thus, no Woman of Senſe would be ever courted in vain: When ſhe ſignifies ſo plainly that ſhe loves him from her Heart; how cordially does ſhe labour to make that Plainneſs ſtill plainer, if poſſible, as ſhe proceeds ſtill farther in her Letter. Theſe plain Phraſes are the Maſter-touches of Nature, and put Art out of Countenance. This is the natural Simplicity, that makes the proud Scholar's Ornaments look poor. Any body, that knows what Love is, will not barely read, but feel this Lady's Letter. Old as I am, my ſelf, how am I warm'd, when, ſhe expreſſes her Tenderneſs. And, if every unconcerned Perſon be her Well-wiſher, what Emotions muſt this Letter be able to raiſe in the Boſom of that happy Man, whom it concerns. Will not her Prudence, her vow'd Obedience, her Study to pleaſe, her Humility, and being unconſcious of the greateſt Worth in her ſelf; her whole Pride placed in admiring him, her Adoration, almoſt, of his ſuperior Merit; her deſiring, and yet diffiding, to deſerve him: Will not all theſe win over his Soul to her? Where ſhe deſcribes to him, how ſhe will behave in his Preſence, and how in his Abſence; what a Figure muſt ſhe make in the Imagination of this admired Man? Muſt ſhe not be as much admired, as ſhe admires? Does ſhe not force him [6] to what ſhe ſo earneſtly wiſhes? The God of Love lives, breathes and acts, in every Line of it, and nothing leſs than THAT VERY MAN, who, as ſhe ſays, If there be ſuch a thing as Perfection in Mankind, is certainly Maſter of it, can be a ſuitable Prize, for her Merit.

IT has been reported concerning the fineſt Orator, of the preſent Age, that the Lady, to whom he was married, grew his Wife, by being his Client. He had long been acquainted with her Patience, Temper and Spirit, by her Manner of ſoliciting her own Cauſe: He knew her Fortune, which depended upon it; ſhe gave him ſuch full and elegant Inſtructions, as few profeſs'd Lawyers could have Penn'd, and as ſcarce needed his own powerful Aſſiſtance and Amendment. He ask'd her, who had drawn them? and being informed her ſelf had been the Compiler, it is no wonder, that ſo much Wit, in ſo agreeable a Perſon, made that greateſt of Orators, whoſe Addreſſes no Lady could withſtand, from that Moment, her Suiter, and, conſequently, her Husband.—

I HAVE often wiſh'd, to be fully ſatisfied of the Truth of this little beautiful Piece of Secret Hiſtory.—But whether it be true in all its Circumſtances, it was not invented by one, who meant to malign the Fame of that Lord, or the Merit of his Lady, ſince a more glorious Accident could not well be aſſigned, to have brought about the Marriage of ſo illuſtrious a Pair.

[7]THE Letter, which now lies before me, is the moſt exquiſite Plea that ever my Eyes beheld. I know ſome who underſtand not what Love is, will be offended at a Woman's firſt declaring her Paſſion. How ſenſible is the Fair One of this, when ſhe cries out, Tyrant Cuſtom and innate Modeſty, forbid my Tongue to utter the Tortures of my Heart.—By Lucinda's Leave, ſhe herſelf, is too rigid and ſevere againſt herſelf. Cuſtom, indeed, does forbid it, and a Tyrannical Cuſtom it is, becauſe, though pretendedly grounded upon the Colours of Modeſty, 'tis unjuſt, 'tis unnatural, and irreligious at the Bottom.—Is it not modeſt, as well as natural, to have an Inclination to be honourably married? She that has not an Inclination, before ſhe is ask'd, can hardly, with Truth, declare Inclination: And if it was an Inclination vertuous and honourable from the Beginning; it muſt have been equally vertuous and honourable from the Beginning to have owned it. A dull and obſtinate Concealment of the Truth, 'till it happens to be extorted, is a Triumph given to Folly over Nature, for the Sake of a miſtaken Modeſty. Both Sexes, if they will but reflect, muſt agree in this Truth.

WHAT Batchelor of good Senſe would not be overjoy'd to diſcover a Lucinda, thus opening in his own Favour? The Man who diſliked a Woman for declaring her Approbation of him, would be like one, who ſecking for a Silver Mine, and diſcovering by [8] chance, a Golden one, ſhou'd deſert it, for no other Reaſon, but becauſe good Fortune had put it in his Way.—

THERE is a vaſt deal of Delight in contemplating the Beauties of a Woman's Mind, who could write thus delicately. How happy would ſhe make her Husband? She would ſooth any Sorrow that could reach him, and exalt his Pleaſures into Raptures; ſhe would be his Comfort in Adverſity, and gild and adorn his Proſperity; ſhe would gladden his Youth, and cheriſh his Age; give more Warmth and Joy to the Summer of his Life, and yield Gaity and Refreſhment to his Winter; ſhe would give Wings to his Buſineſs Abroad, and divert him at Home, with her Converſation; ſhe would fill up the Vacuities of Solitude, with Diſcourſe, that was preferrable to the Company of Wits; no Nights could be tedious by her Side; and Day-light would be made more chearful by looking upon her.

BUT I draw towards a Concluſion as faſt as I can, for fear of hindring any longer, what I would ſpeedily unite. I fancy my ſelf to be this Minute, with my Paper, in the Parlour of that fine Old Seat in Surrey. Lucinda and her Lover, have both hold of the Plain Dealer, who tells them his Sentiments like the Father of them both.—I hear him reading, I ſee her wiſhing, and yet dreading to be diſcovered.—I wiſh the Diſcovery my ſelf—Methinks I ſee it, and hear [9] him ſay—You are Lucinda; I have often told you, You are all Charms. There wants nothing but your Conſent to make us the happy Couple here deſcribed—Lucinda, trembling, holds the Paper as ſhe would let it drop—Now, if I could make my Paper ſpeak, it ſhould ſay, Do, drop me from between you; join Hands over a more Sacred Writing—It is ſo promiſing a Match, that the Plain Dealer is to act the Father in it—If you have not immediate Opportunities—If you apprehend any Hindrance—Stay not a Moment where you are—Take a Tour to Blunt-Hall together—The Clergyman of our Aſſembly, ſhall join your Hands, and bleſs your Wiſhes, and you may keep your Wedding at the ancient Seat of the Blunt's, ſince it will be ſo happy an Example to many Maids, who have been ſcared ſo long, by a ſilly groundleſs Cuſtom, from ſpeaking their Minds in an Affair, on which depends all their Felicity.

The Plain Dealer. No 59.
MONDAY, October 12. 1724.

[10]
Cur in Theatrum, Cato ſevere, veniſti?
MART.

IT is the Duty of a Patriot to mourn for thoſe growing Evils, which ſeem to threaten, either the Safety, or the Honour of his Country: And, for this Reaſon, I have often been, irreſiſtably chagrin'd, at the Corruption of our Publick Theatres.—But I was, lately, enliven'd into Hope, upon this Subject; and am glad, I can aſſure my Reader, that there is a Spirit of Improvement at Work, to ſuſtain our ſinking Taſte, and ſet Examples for our preſent Stages.

THERE is a generous Boldneſs, as well in the Deſign itſelf, as in the Time of putting it in Execution. But nothing is more certain, than that it is form'd upon a Plan, which if it meets with the propos'd Encouragement, will go a great Way toward keeping the Hearts of the Gay World from breaking, ſhould ſo dreadful a Misfortune happen, as that the God of Wit revenges himſelf upon the proſtituted [11] Theatres in Faſhion, by making People aſham'd of appearing, where they ought to bluſh at their Entertainment.

I AM tranſported to this Pitch of Joy, upon having Landed at Weſtminſter Stairs, in my Way from Barbican, to the Abbey Cloiſters (where I often muſe, on Subjects which, a long Time hence, may fill Plain Dealers) and met, in the King's Highway, a Party-colour'd younger Brother, of the juſtly-celebrated Mr. Lun.—He was uſher'd along in great State, with a ſounding Drum in his Front, and a Trumpet, and French Horn, plac'd like Wings, on either Flank; while the Rear was brought up by a Body of ſcatter'd Velites, the flying Fragments of Humanity!

THE Checquer'd Nuntio, as I paſs'd him, ſtopt; and nodded his looſe Head at me: Snatching off his Pigmy Hat, by the Rabbit's Tail which was annex'd to it: And, tripping toward me, with a wanton Wavineſs, like the Curling of a Ship's long Pendant, when it dances in a Breeze, ſlipt a Billet into my Hand; and, retreating, with a merry Shrugg, or two, reſum'd his Poſt as before, and gave Continuance to the Proceſſion.

FROM the ludicrous Turn of his Figure, I open'd the Paper he gave me, with very humble Expectation: But was ſtruck with no ſmall Reverence, when I beheld the Royal Arms, magiſterially diſplay'd at the Head of it: And Theſe ſurprizing Particulars promulg'd, under the Stamp of ſuch a known Authority!

[12]

By His MAJESTY's PERMISSION. For the better Accommodation of Gentlemen, Ladies and Others:

AT the White-Hart, in St. Margaret's Lane, is to be ſeen, in a Manner never Perform'd before, The whole Play of HERO and LEANDER; with a LIVE PUNCH.’ Perform'd by a Company of ARTIFICIAL ACTORS, whoſe Diverſions are very Changeable, and Conſiſtivarious.

THE Figures, being Five Foot high, perform with that Nicety, that they can hardly be diſtinguiſh'd from the Live Players; and give an Equal Satisfaction.

LIKEWISE, you will ſee the Dancing of Jigs, Maſquerades, and Sarabands.—Likewiſe, the Royal Court of Foreign Kings, Queens, and Princes. Every Figure dreſs'd according to their own Country Habits.—Likewiſe, the Riſing and Setting of the Sun. Alſo CUPID's Paradiſe.—Likewiſe, Cupid deſcending out of the Clouds, to the Front of the Stage, and ſpeaks the Prologue to the Play.

BEFORE the Play begins, there is a High German Artiſt, that takes an empty Bag, and turns it inſide out, that you may ſee, there is nothing in it, and, then, conveys Showers of Gold and Eggs out of it.

[13]THE Prices are from Two Shillings, down to Six-pence. And we begin, at the Quality Hours.

THERE are very good Seats for Gentlemen; and Places, for Coaches and Chairs to ſtand in.

Note—Any Gentleman and Lady, may have a Play in Private, any Hour of the Day; giving Notice beforehand.

VIVAT REX.

I FOUND myſelf not a little delighted, upon peruſing this Notification, to be aſſur'd, in ſo Authentick a Manner, that we have His Majeſty's Permiſſion, to be better accommodated than we have been. For, from this, intentional, Royal Grace, I grew ſanguine enough to expect, a very ſudden Revocation of certain Grants, for Monopolizing the Art of Conjuring; and of bewitching the King's Liege People out of all ſober Uſe, as well of their Money as their Senſes.—I enter'd, therefore, with Pleaſure, on the Diviſions of my printed Billet: And began, with a Critical Eye, to examine what Likelihood there was, that Hero and Leander, ſhould be too hard for the Devil, and his Double Favourites.

THE Live Punch, though they ſeem to build much upon him, I cou'd conſider as no great Rarity.—Not that I wou'd derogate, in the leaſt, from that Reſpect, which is due to his Character: But he has Brothers upon both Stages, as much alive as himſelf, with the Advantage of being more incomprehenſible. [14]Punch will be underſtood, with ſo little Difficulty, that our People of Polite Taſte, will never be able to bear him.—But, when I had read about half a Line lower, and came to that Part of the Declaration, which promiſes, That the Actors of this new Company, ſhall be ARTIFICIAL, I was preſently at Eaſe again: For, in that Caſe, I ſaw, moſt certainly, that there muſt be Novelty in their Deſign; ſince nothing is more generally allow'd, with Regard to the other Companies, than, That, for One of their Actors, who is Artificial, Six are abſolutely Naturals.

I GATHER'D much Conſolation too, from that other welcome Aſſurance, That the Diverſions of this Royal Company, are to be very Changeable, and Conſiſtivarious. The Town has, Annually, for ſome Years paſt, been dieted, by the Playhouſe Doctors: And gone through a Regular Courſe of Bitters, with a moſt laudable Spirit of Meekneſs, and true Chriſtian Reſignation—Their Wit was fall'n Sick, and ſubmitted to Quack Potions: Becauſe Mountebank Stages, by being Licens'd, had the Reputation of College Practice: (And, to poiſon by Authority, has the good Fortune to be no Felony).—So that nothing is more certain, than that the Wooden Company, will have the Advantage of our Brazen Ones, in this important Point, the Changeable.

BUT, as for the Conſiſtivarious, the old Workmen, I am afraid, will be more than a [15] Match for the new Ones.—I am not, indeed, ſo able a Critick, in the Language of theſe Wooden Orators, as to decide, with any abſolute Sufficiency, the Signification of a Word, ſo Derivative and Complex, as Conſiſtivarious: But, if I am fortunate enough, to have rightly broke in upon ſo impregnable a Decompoſite, then, I am ſure, I may ſafely affirm, That our Stage's Conduct, ever ſince I can remember it, has been truly Conſiſtivarious, in the moſt remarkable and ſurprizing Manner.—Nay, a Triumvir of that detach'd Adminiſtration, the accompliſhed Author of a Tragedy, which we are to be admitted to the Honour of admiring, in the Front of this happy Seaſon, is, I am ſure, ſo renown'd for his Conſiſtivariouſneſs, that one wou'd almoſt be induc'd to ſwear, That the very Word was of his own making, and coin'd, on Purpoſe, for his New Tragedy.

BUT, here let me correct a falſe Report, which this Great Writer ſuffers under, by the Means of ſome, who envy him the Honours which are due to his undoubting Genius:—It is ſaid, the Name of his New Tragedy is to be Caeſar in Egypt. But I aſſure all Chriſtian People, that though Caeſar, may ſtand, in Capitals, on the Title Page, yet that ſhou'd only be conſider'd as an Error of the Preſs; which the Buyer may correct with Eaſe, by reading CIBBER in Egypt, inſtead of CAESAR: And, with that ſmall Alteration, every Thing in this Tragedy, will be found [16] extremely Natural; and ſtand directly, as it ſhou'd be.

THE Spirit, however of our new Undertakers, at the White-Hart, is inflam'd into an enterprizing and ſmart Emulation! And I was very much taken with the Turn of this brisk Defiance—That, tho' they may paſs for Nobodies, becauſe they are made of Wood; yet, ſince they have the Good Luck to be five Foot high, they ſee no Reaſon to ſuppoſe their Adverſaries to be more than their Match; and will, therefore, perform with ſuch Nicety, as not to be diſtinguiſh'd from them; and doubt not in the leaſt, to give an equal Satisfaction.

AS for the next Paragraph, I fear it was purpoſely embroider'd over, with thoſe Likewiſes, and Alſo's, for no other Reaſon in the World, but to cover a conſcious Deficiency in the Senſe, by the Eloquent Glare of the Expreſſion.—For, who does not obſerve, That Dancing of Jigs, Maſquerades, and Sarabands, are Improvements in Learning, which the happy Genius of our Nobility, and the vaſt Encouragement they give to Wit, have brought, already, to their full Perfection?—I can't ſee, therefore, what Novelty can be expected, in this Particular: Unleſs, when they give Notice, That All their Performers are to be Wooden ones, they wou'd have us underſtand it, that, by Aid of ſome third Fauſtus, their Fiddles are to fall a Dancing, and keep Time to their own Muſick.

[17]THE Riſing and Setting of the Sun, I have very little to ſay for, with Regard to its Newneſs.—Cupid's Paradiſe may pleaſe at firſt, but will flatten, if they ſhew it often.—The Court of Foreign Kings is no ſuch Rarity as they think it.—But, for every Figure to be dreſs'd, according to their own Country Faſhion.—That, indeed, is a Stroke of Decorum, which out-ſoars, at one Flight, Patent, Licenſe, and Charter! And it will be reaſonable to hope, after the Publick Taſte has been ſo refin'd, by theſe Chips of a new Block, that we ſhall ſee no more Intermixture of the Ancient, with the Modern Dreſſes: Where the Order of Things is ſo capriciouſly revers'd, that the Courtiers of an Engliſh Monarch ſhall ſtand round him, like Beaux of Yeſterday; and the Sovereign himſelf ſtrut about, in Trunk Breeches, and be dreſs'd, as old as a Patriarch.

THERE is, in the next Article, an odd kind of Myſtery, which I own I could not fathom: And, I frankly confeſs, I was, once, afraid, there might be a Plot in it.—I puzzled my Imagination, till I was weary of imagining.—But, the more I mus'd upon it, the leſs I was able to make, of that ſtrange High-German Artiſt, who was to ſhake an empty Bag, inſide out, that we might ſee, there was nothing in it: And, then, rain Gold and Eggs out of it.

IT was eaſily to be diſcern'd, that the Scene was ſhifted in this Place.—The Play-houſes [18] could have nothing to do with the Paragraph: None of Their Bags, for ſome Years paſt, having been Empty enough to turn inſide outward. So that I was greatly perplex'd, by the Knottineſs of this Difficulty: Till I, luckily, bethought myſelf of a Friend of mine, a Decypherer; whoſe ſurprizing Dexterity, levell'd every Rub in his Way, and made it as plain, as a Demonſtration, That the empty Bag was the South-Sea Scheme.—That the Golden Showers were the ſudden Sallies of that Stock: And, that the Eggs were the ſucking Bubbles, that were hatch'd under the Warmth of it.

I SHOULD have been loſt, in this Deſart, if I had not return'd, to make a Remark, concerning the Modeſty of our new Comedians.—How praiſe-worthy is their Generoſity, and the Diſintereſtedneſs of their Spirit! Who, after putting themſelves to the two-fold Charge of building, both their Stage, and their Performers, propoſe to act, notwithſtanding, at Lower Rates, than their Rivals; which Laſt go on to demoliſh, as faſt as their Competitors can build up: And yet, have the Courage to raiſe their Prices, becauſe they fall their Entertainments.

THEN, how juſt, and how Sympathetical, is another Care of our Wooden Reformers!—Being perfectly acquainted with the Talents of a Modiſh Audience, they have judiciouſly determined to provide Room for the Coaches and Chairs, in the ſame Paragraph [19] with the Gentlemen.—Their Thoughts were more upon Merit, than upon Good Breeding;—And ſince they knew that their Kindred Vehicles were as able Judges, as their Owners, and (which is of more Conſequence) as well-dreſs'd too; they, therefore, thought it but reaſonable to treat 'em with equal Reverence.

WHAT kind of Play, that may be, which any Gentleman and Lady, who give Notice before-hand, are to be diverted with in Private, I muſt make a Perſonal Search into, before I undertake to conſider it.—But, upon the Whole, I believe, there can be no manner of Doubt, but that The White-Hart, in St. Margaret's-Lane, may bid as fair for Fine Audiences, as any of the Reſt of our Theatres; where, though the Actors are not of Wood, they have uſurp'd the Province of Wooden Actors.

The Plain Dealer. No. 60.
FRIDAY, October 16. 1724.

[20]
—Pictoribus atque Poetis.
HOR.

WHEN I read, with Admiration, the great Actions of an Alexander, a Caeſar, or a Tamerlane; or an charm'd by the more powerful Writings of a Homer, a Virgil, or a Cicero, I am fir'd with an impatient Longing, to conceive their Turn of Perſon, Air, and Features. And when my Fancy (forc'd to travel without a Guide) has tir'd itſelf with vain Endeavours to graſp Ideas, that are thin, and fleeting, I lament that the Materials of the Painter's noble Art, are not as laſting as the Painter's Fame is. For, in that caſe, Two Siſter Arts, uniting their different Powers, the one tranſmitting Souls, the other Bodies, (or the outward Form of Bodies) their combining Influence would be of Force to fruſtrate Death itſelf: And all the Ages of the World would ſeem to be Cotemporaries.

BUT, here, the Poet triumphs. His Works outlive the Painter's, though the Painter [21] begins much ſooner to be famous, than the Poet does: And has alſo commonly the Advantage over him, with Relation to Fortune: The ſtrongeſt Reaſons of which Difference, I have lately read, with Pleaſure, in the following Letter, from an excellent, and learned, Critick, whom I ſpoke of, in a late Paper, and whoſe Encouragement, I am afraid, is (to the future Reproach of our Age) moſt ſhamefully diſproportioned to his Merit.

THERE is ſomething extremely new, in the Subject, as well as the Sentiments, of this Letter: And I will, therefore, take the Liberty to publiſh it, for my Reader's Entertainment; though the Author, when he writ it, meant it only for the private Satisfaction of a Gentleman of his Acquaintance.

SIR,

I KNOW not whether I ſhould return you Thanks for your laſt Viſit or not, becauſe I know not whether I am indebted to Fortune, or to You for it. But I am obliged to take Notice, in a particular Manner, of the Deſire you expreſs'd, during our being together, that I would have my Picture drawn.

AFTER I have omitted it ſo many Years, I would not have it drawn at laſt by a Bungler, and I am not in a Condition at preſent, to ſatisfy one who is a Maſter; nor do I know whether we have any Maſter, [22] who would make me a Preſent of it: Though a Painter is much more able to give, than a Poet to buy; which has put me upon conſidering, what are the Reaſons which make the Painter ſo ſucceſsful, and the Poet ſo unfortunate; that make the Art of Poetry, and the Art of Painting, which are Siſters, ſo very Reſembling, by Nature, ſo very Different, by Fortune.

A great Poet, for the moſt Part, neglects and affronts Fortune, by making his Court to Fame; but Fame and Fortune are Rivals, that contend with each other, which ſhall heap moſt Favours upon the deſerving Painter. All the great Painters that have appeared among us, have had Juſtice done to their Merit while they liv'd, and no Sign-poſt-Painter has ever yet paſs'd for a great Maſter. All the Painters, whom our Kings have delighted to employ, have been Maſters, as Holbin, Rubens, Vandyck, Leeley, Ryley, Kneller, and Thornhill.

BUT the contrary of this has happened with Regard to Poets. Several good ones, nay, ſeveral of the beſt, have been neglected during their Life-time, as Spencer, Milton, Butler, Otway, among ourſelves, and among the Ancients, Homer; while the moſt contemptible of all Scriblers have been Eſteemed and Honoured. Our Kings themſelves have, more than once, had ſuch vile Scriblers for their Poets, and have, like Fortune, taken a Pleaſure in exalting Fools. [23] But tho' a King can give a Man Title and Place, only GOD can give him Genius. 'Tis the Prerogative of a King to make a Knight, but only GOD can make a Poet.

THE Reaſons of the Difference which we ſometimes find, in the Fortunes of great Poets and Painters, appear to me to be chiefly theſe which follow:

The Firſt is, That the great Painter, for each of his Maſter-pieces, has but one Original, and no Copy can come up to the eaſie Grace and the natural Force of a beautiful Original; whereas, of maſterly Poems, there are as many Originals, as there are true Copies; and all of them have equal Force, and equal Grace and Beauty; and this is none of the leaſt Things that render the Works of the Painter ſo precious, and the Artiſt himſelf ſo fortunate. A Man may buy the Works of Homer or Virgil for a very Trifle, whereas thoſe of Raphael are above any Value. But this multiplying of Originals gives the great Poet, at leaſt, one Advantage over the famous Painter, which is, that it renders what he writes perpetual. Homer and Virgil are immortal in their Works, but Zeuxis and Apelles are only ſo in their Fame.

ANOTHER Reaſon of this Difference, is, The Univerſality of the Language in which the Painter delivers his Art: The great Painter ſpeaks to all Countries as intelligibly, as to his own, nay, more intelligibly, more gracefully, and more forcibly, to thoſe [24] Countries which are polite; and, therefore, his Fame keeps equal Pace with his Merit; and where-ever he goes, both Fortune and Fame attend him. The more his Pieces are known, the more they are deſired, and the more dearly purchaſed. The greateſt of Kings are ambitious to be Maſters of them, and ambitious to poſſeſs the Painters, as well as their Works. What modern Poet, during his Life-time, was ever read by ſo many Sovereign Princes, as were drawn by the Hand of Titian? What Prince ever heap'd thoſe Honours on a Poet, that Charles the Fifth did on Titian? Did the renowned Auguſtus himſelf, with all his Capacity, and all his Greatneſs of Mind, ſo Honour Horace or Virgil? Now, while the Painter's Fame and Fortune are unconfin'd, thoſe of the greateſt of our Engliſh Poets are reſtrained to the Iſlands of Great Britain and Ireland, that is, to leſs than Twenty Millions of People, of which, perhaps, there are hardly Five hundred which have a fine Taſte of Poetry.

ANOTHER Reaſon of the Difference in the Fortunes of great Painters and Poets, with regard to Painting after the Life, is the darling Intereſt, and the darling Paſſion of both Sexes, and eſpecially of the Women; no Motive is generally ſo predominant, as that of Self-Intereſt, no Paſſion ſo vehement and ſo ardent as Self-Love. Now the Generality of both Sexes look upon their Perſons, as their very ſelves. It is their [25] Perſons, then, which they ardently deſire ſhould be advantageouſly known, and fairly diſtinguiſhed, and ſhould remain after them. This the great Painter alone can perform, who is ſure to draw the beſt Likeneſs, and yet, at the ſame Time, to diſtinguiſh a Face, from all other Faces whatever, which 'tis impoſſible that the greateſt Poet in the World, can ever do, by Deſcription.

ANOTHER Reaſon of the foreſaid Difference, is, That few Perſons pretend to decide ſovereignly in Painting, but they who are acquainted with the Rules of the Art, and who, beſides the Reading Ancient and Modern Hiſtory, underſtand Geometry, Perſpective, and Anatomy; whereas the Rabble of Mankind pretending to judge of Poetry, ſovereignly, and without Appeal, wretched Poetaſters have been often applauded, and excellent Poets neglected, becauſe the former write moſt to the Capacity of the Rabble. And there is one Thing, which I have formerly mentioned, and which I have often obſerved, and always with freſh Surprize, That the Rabble, by their Noiſe, their Clamours, and their Obſtinacy, have often drawn in Men who have paſs'd for Men of Senſe, to affirm their unrighteous Decrees; whereas the Men of Senſe, with all their Judgment, and with all their Perſeverance, have never been able to draw in the Rabble, without the Aſſiſtance of Time.

[26] THERE is ſtill another Reaſon of the foreſaid Difference in the Fortunes of great Poets and Painters, which is this; Moſt Men are very ſenſual; and Pleaſure of Senſe affects them, more than Pleaſure merely Intellectual. They love to have their Underſtandings informed by their Senſes, becauſe that Inſtruction gives them Pleaſure, without any Mixture of Pain, which always, in ſome meaſure, accompanies Labour and great Attention. And of all the Senſes, they love chiefly to be inſtructed by the Sight, becauſe the Inſtruction that comes that Way, is attended with the leaſt Labour. And if it be true, that there are no innate Ideas; if it be true, that there is nothing in the Underſtanding, but what was in the external Senſe before, then the Method of Inſtruction uſed by the Painter, is the very Method wich God and Nature have taken to inſtruct us. And this is the Cauſe of that extraordinary Pleaſure which Men receive from Painting, as Ariſtotle has obſerved in the Fourth Chapter of his Art of Poetry. And, in this, the Painter has infinitely the Advantage of the Poet. The Painter informs the Underſtanding, and warms the Imagination, by ſtriking the Sight ſtrongly, and giving it the Height of Pleaſure; while all that can be done, of that kind, by the greateſt Poet that ever liv'd, is to make us vainly imagine, that he ſets Things before our Eyes.

[27] THUS have I laid before you ſome of the chief Reaſons of the Difference that is found in the Fortunes of Great Poets and Painters; and, now, to end with the Buſineſs with which I began, If he whom you propoſe to draw my Picture, is not a Maſter, I ſhall be unwilling to give him any Trouble. If he is a Maſter, he is Rich, as cercertainly as I am not ſo: I therefore expect, That he ſhall do it intirely gratis; For as Painter, and Poet, we are Siſters Children, and he is worſe than a Jew, who, being Rich himſelf, will take Money of a Poor Relation.

I am, SIR, Your moſt Humble, Faithful Servant, A. B.

The Plain Dealer. No 61.
MONDAY, October 19. 1724.

[28]
Labor Improbus omnia vincit.
VIRG.
Otium cum dignitate.—
CICERO.

THERE is not a more delightful Way of conveying uſeful Knowledge into the Mind, than Copying the Allegories of the Ancients: The following Genealogy of LABOUR and PLEASURE, is a modern Performance of this kind, which ſhews the Author a Perſon of lively Fancy and ſound Judgment.

IT was ſent me in a well-written Letter, ſubſcribed J. F. which, when I ſuppreſs, I muſt own, I give my ſelf ſome Mortification.

SATURN, the Son of COELUM, after having made a Separation of Body and Goods with his Wife CYBELE, married NECESSITY the Daughter of DESTINY and FORTUNE.

Old Father DESTINY gave this poor Girl of his, her Education among the MUSES, and trained her up in the Company of Poets [29] and Philoſophers. She was bleſſed, from a very Child, with a ſtrong, and enterprizing Genius, quick and ready at Invention, fruitful of mighty Projects, and ever intent upon proper Ways and Means, to give a finiſhing Stroke to her Undertakings. But though ſhe was ingenious, ſhe was homely in her Perſon; ſhe, poor Thing! had none of thoſe Charms to boaſt of, which might draw the Eyes of Lovers upon her; her Mien carried with it as little Temptation as her Face; and her Fortune was low, and ſtill leſs inviting than either; ſo that ſhe was no Body's Taſte, and not any Individual breatheing had the leaſt Thought of her for a Wife. The MUSES found the Charge grow heavy upon Them, and, ſenſible of their Inability to go through with the Expence of keeping her much longer, the begg'd DESTINY, by all means, to take her out of their Hands, and think of making proper Proviſion for her in ſome other Way. This put DESTINY on trying to bring about a Match, between his Daughter, and his old Friend SATURN, whom he perſuaded, that ſince he was ſo far gone in Years, and parted from his Wife, without any Appearance of their coming together again; it was not poſſible for him to do better, than marry ſome honeſt careful Body, who would be tender in looking after him: And then he took Occaſion to name his own Daughter, as a Perſon well qualified for that Office; aſſuring the old Gentleman, at the ſame Time, of her Inclinations [30] to do every Thing, that would be moſt pleaſing in his Eyes.

THE Truth is, NECESSITY was a good toward Girl, and followed her Father's Counſel, ſo well, and behaved herſelf with ſo much Docility, Humility, and Diligence, that ſhe intirely won the old Man's Heart. That which prevailed with him, moſt of all, to come to this Reſolution, aroſe from this Conſideration, That all the Uneaſineſs between him and CYBELE, was occaſioned by her too great Riches, which made her preſumptuous enough to ſlight and deſpiſe him, and uſe him ſo ill, as to carry on a ſecret Affair with PLUTO, a Commerce, the moſt diſpleaſing in Nature to him, and which he could never forgive. Hence he became perſwaded, it would be doing very wiſely, to marry a Woman of Birth, who having nothing of her own, would think of no other Enjoyments, but thoſe which ſhe ſhared in common with him, which he knew to be ſufficient to render her eternally happy.

PRELIMINARIES were all ſettled, the Treaty concluded, and the Marriage conſummated, between old SATURN, and his poor Spouſe NECESSITY, whoſe whole Portion conſiſted in her Vigilance, her Obedience, and Humility.

THE only Iſſue of this Marriage was VIRTUE, who from her Cradle, gave Promiſes of her Beauty. As ſoon as ſhe grew up, the mature Virgin drew gazing Crowds after her, [31] and the Eyes of the admiring World was fix'd upon this Object. There was not that ſingle God in Olympus, but was fond of her Acquaintance: However, as ſhe happened to be of a high and over-ruling Temper, and would take the Liberty of telling People their Faults very plainly to their Faces; ſhe was not over-welcome to many, where ſhe went.

THEN, again, her Mother NECESSITY, whoſe Company ſhe was ſeldom out of, was, by Nature, baſhful, and little uſed to frequent the Palaces of the Great. She went always very plainly and ſimply cloathed, after the old Faſhion, which made her not a little timorous of viſiting the modiſh Gods of Quality.

THIS manner of Life becoming troubleſome to them, they went often to pay their Reſpects to the MUSES, and to ſee the Poets and Philoſophers, their old Friends, with whom they always found a more friendly and grateful Reception. This made them think of returning to the MUSES, and there to live for ever: And this NECESSITY got her Husband to conſent to, who approved of this Retreat the more willingly, becauſe he very juſtly judged, that the good Qualities of his Daughter VIRTUE, might help a great deal, in that Place, towards correcting the Vices and reforming the Errors of Mankind.

ACCORDINGLY they returned to Parnaſſus, and the MUSES obliged them with [32] fine Apartments, where VIRTUE made herſelf known more and more, and was admired by every Eye that could get a Sight of her. The MUSES did all they could, to exalt the Merit of their new Tenant; they left nothing unſaid, that might inlarge her Reputation; they had a mighty Mind to captivate ſome ſuitable Perſon, and engage his Affections to her: But all in vain; there was not one Ear rightly open to theſe repeated Praiſes and Admonitions. Whole Crowds indeed would throng, to gaze at her, every Spectator Admired her, and even every Hearer, when ſhe ſpoke, was forc'd to allow, That ſhe had Reaſon for the Reprimands ſhe made; but not one of them would have any Concern with her, or join themſelves for ever with a Perſon, whoſe Manner of Living was ſo extraordinary and uncommon.

THUS ſhe remained a long Time unprovided for, 'till a venerable Sort of Gentleman, oldiſh, but not very far in Years, who had the Reputation of great Capacity, Obſervation and Experience, and whoſe Name was WISDOM, happen'd to light upon her. To him this tart Humour of hers, which was always as juſt as it was ſevere, was not at all diſtaſteful: On the contrary, he liked her for it; he made his Court to her, and having addreſſed her Father and Mother for their Conſent, and obtained it, married her, to the univerſal Joy of Parnaſſus.

[33]THIS excellent Couple had Iſſue, but One Child, named LABOUR, who, in his Infancy, gave them Trouble enough, in all Conſcience, to rear him. As ſoon as he approached the Age of Manhood, he gave the moſt apparent Signs of a working Head, and appeared never eaſy, but when in Action.

ONE Day, above the reſt, having cloſely employed himſelf upon an Undertaking of great Moment, a Task which his Mother VIRTUE had been pleaſed to ſet him; he ſaw RECOMPENCE, the Daughter of MERIT and of REASON, and became paſſionately in Love with her. Her Youth was blooming, her Beauty exquiſitely charming; her Humour powerfully bewitching; her whole Perſon irreſiſtably raviſhing: All ſhe look'd, or ſaid, or did, was ſo engaging, that it was natural in her to pleaſe, and there was no-body but loved her, no-body but longed to poſſeſs her.

LABOUR, who was nearly touched with ſo many agreeable Qualities, reſolved with himſelf to do every thing that ſhould be requiſite to gain her; and, as ſhe did not want Lovers, he judged he ſhould meet with many Difficulties before he could attain his deſired End: But having received ſome joyful Aſſurance, that the Figure he made in the World, did not diſpleaſe her, he reſolved to omit nothing, that might make him ſtill more grateful in the Eye of his Miſtreſs. After infinite Pains, innumerable Hopes and Diſappointments, the Treaty was at length concluded [34] with MERIT and REASON, the Parents of RECOMPENCE, who gave their Conſent with great Alacrity; and the more, for that VIRTUE herſelf did very heartily intereſt herſelf in that Affair. Nay, farthermore, Advices came to the Parents of RECOMPENCE, that the Marriage was APPROVED and DESIRED by COELUM, the Great-Grandfather to LABOUR.

IN Effect, LABOUR and RECOMPENCE were ſo exactly matched, that one may ſay, they were born one for the other; their Marriage was perfectly happy, by the good Underſtanding in which they lived; For LABOUR continuing towards his Wife the ſame Affection, deſired to be everlaſtingly in her Company; he could not bear her a Moment out of his Sight, by his good Will; and would ſcarce be perſuaded, at Times, that he had ſeen her, when he really had. His Wife was no leſs fond, on her Side; ſhe obſerved a Conduct ſo regular, and ſo judicious, that ſhe never gave him Reaſon of Complaint, and would favour no-body with her Preſence, where her Husband was abſent.

THIS Marriage was render'd ſtill more proſperous by its Fruitfulneſs. For, they had Iſſue Three Children, Two Girls, and a Boy. The Boy, who was the Youngeſt, was called REST: He was well made in his Perſon, agreeable, inſinuating, welcome whereever he went: His noble Birth, and engaging Qualities, made him regarded and coveted [35] by all the World, and chiefly by the Rich. He was not of ſo high a Spirit as his Siſters: He viſited none but Perſons that were peaceful, and little enterprizing. His Father was angry at it, and did all he could to render him more active, but he fled out of his Sight, becauſe continual ſolliciting him to do ſomething, diſturbed his Quiet, and interrupted his Beloved Repoſe.

THESE repeated Sollicitations grew, at laſt, ſo inſupportable to REST, that, his Humour being no longer able to bear that of his Father, which was ſo oppoſite, he harboured Malice againſt him, and joining in an Aſſociation with IDLENESS, with whom he had contracted a ſtrict Friendſhip, they plotted together to take away the Life of the Parent of REST. But honeſt Father LABOUR, being vigilant, was not long without diſcovering this Conſpiracy, of which being but too certain, he drove this unnatural Son from him, nor would ever ſee him more: REST, touch'd with Repentance, or puſhed by ſome other Motive, retired to the Service of the Gods, where he has, ever ſince, taken up his Reſidence.

THE Two Daughters of LABOUR, were GLORY and PLEASURE, both of them fine Perſons, intirely like their Mother, ſo very like her, that they were often taken for her, which made her extreamly fond of them. LABOUR loved them dearly too, as well on Account of their Merit, as for that near Reſemblance [36] of Features which made him remember, when his Heart was firſt ſmitten with Love.

THE Children, on their Side, dutifully anſwered this Affection, and hardly ever quitted their Father and Mother, where-ever they went, whether to private People, or Princes, where they moſt delighted to make their Abode, and where they were very welcome, being ſignificant Perſons in War and Peace, and ſhining as well in the Cabinet, as the Field.

IT is true, that PLEASURE, was not ſo lofty and proud of Heart, as GLORY, her Siſter: For whereas GLORY thought of nothing but great Things, and would frequent none but People of great Genius, deſpiſing all other Conſiderations; PLEASURE, on the contrary, could amuſe herſelf with any thing, loving as well Buſineſs of little Account, as that of Importance; the People of a midling, as well as of the ſublimeſt Genius; low, as well as high Life, careſſing all alike; which won her the Hearts of all the World: As ſhe was, by Nature, very curious, ſhe diverted herſelf with making little particular Journies to People, who were glad to have her in their Company, provided ſhe was not with her Father and her Siſter, the Auſterity of whom, put them under too great a Reſtraint.

THESE little Sallies gave a Stain to her Reputation, it not being poſſible to ſee ſo fine a Girl familiarly viſit ſo many People, [37] without ſpeaking of it. But what had like to have ruined her intirely, was, that at the ſame Time a debauch'd Girl, who had ſomething of the Air of PLEASURE, but much Affectation, took it in her Head to go by the ſame Name, in order to find the eaſier Acceſs in all Places. She was the Daughter of LEISURE and DEBAUCH, deſpicable People! and, as ſhe had neither Birth nor Honour, ſhe mingled indifferently with all Sorts of Perſons, leading an infamous Life, and ſo diſorderly, that ſhe paſſed for one loſt.

THIS Identity of Names, made them attribute to the true PLEASURE, all the Diſorders of the falſe, which obliged her to clear up the Matter with her Father LABOUR, who was deceived, like the reſt of the World, by this Appearance. But above all Things, her conſcious Innocence, which they accuſed her to have violated, gave her great Confidence in her own Juſtification. She made known to her Father, that the greateſt Part of thoſe ſhe frequented, were the beſt Friends of Him, and his Anceſtors, VIRTUE and WISDOM; That ſhe was cheriſhed by a whole Sect of Philoſophers; and, in ſhort, That ſhe ſaw none but People, whoſe Manners were Praiſe-worthy.

The Plain Dealer. No 62.
FRIDAY, October 23. 1724.

[38]
—Nos animorum
Impulſu & caecâ magnâ (que) cupidine ducti
Conjugium petimus, partum (que) Uxoris; at illis
Notum qui pueri, qualiſ (que) futura ſit Uxor.
JUV.

I, WHO Pride my Self, in nothing, more than when I can be perſonating the good old Man, that is to ſay, Acting the Part of a Father towards the Youth of either Sex, muſt naturally have a ſingular Regard for thoſe worthy Matrons, my Co-temporaries, whoſe approved Wiſdom and Vertue, induce prudent Parents, to conſign Children to their Guardianſhip.—The Truth is, That whenever I light upon the leaſt Commerce with this beneficial Set of People, I am willing to improve it, both for their Sakes, and my Own, that we pick out of one another, ſometimes a lucky Hint, that has been uſeful in conducting one Child to its Welfare, and by puſhing it in the Education of another, make it the Happier, its whole Life after.—For this Reaſon, I was reſolved to diſpatch the [39] Requeſt of the following Letter, as early as poſſible, and becauſe, as the careful Writer of it has young Ladies under her Tuition, I not only conſider Her as a common Correſpondent, but have for Her that fraternal Regard, which is felt by an Affectionate Brother.

SIR,

HAVING the Charge of two young Ladies of Fortune lately devolved upon me; I cannot but think it needful to call in the Aſſiſtſtance of the PLAIN DEALER to enable me to perform this important Task, with that Juſtice and Prudence, which I am convinc'd it requires.

I therefore beg you will give me ſome Rules for Education; and, that they may the better Adapted to my preſent Neceſſity, I muſt tell you, as conciſely as I can, the different Diſpoſitions I have to deal with.

THE eldeſt is about Fifteen, very Bookiſh, but her chief Study has hitherto been in Romances, and Novels. I think it not proper to diſcourage this Taſte of Reading in her, but would rather lead her, inſenſibly, into the Peruſal of Books really Uſeful; which to ſuch a One, ought to be entertaining too. What they muſt be, I ſubmit to your Judgment, who, I hope, will Recommend ſome Authors that may be ſafely put into their Hands.

MY younger Charge, not quite Fourteen, is ſo far from reading Romances, that I can fix her to nothing; She promiſes fair to be the very [40] Counter-part of your Patty Amble; And I believe has been a Coquette from her Cradle; She is good-natur'd, but giddy, and I fear it will be a difficult Matter to make her a reaſonable Woman, tho' She certainly has good Senſe.

THIS will be no Paradox, when we conſider how many People looſe the Benefit of a fine Underſtanding, for want of fixing it upon a proper Baſis.

YOUR Thoughts upon this SUBJECT will be a Publick Benefit, and a Particular Favour to

SIR,
Your conſtant Reader, and humble Servant, ASPASIA.

IT is Nobly and Generouſly obſerved by an Excellent Poet of the preſent Age, that, To do one good Actio [...], is preferable to the writing, however ſublimely, the moſt Glorious Deeds of others. But methinks, on the other hand, it gives an unſpeakable Pleaſure to deliver in writing, what may give occaſion to good Actions. The honeſt Inclination of Aſpaſia, and her earneſt Deſire, That I would give her a Word of Advice, concur to raiſe in me this Expectation, and therefore, while I ſhall lay down ſome curſory Obſervations, which may be of Service to young People, I am not aſham'd to own, That the little Entertainment, which I offer to that Claſs of my Readers, is a kind of Feaſt to my Self.

[41] ASPASIA very well knows, the firſt and moſt important Point, which conſiſts in ſtudying their Tempers, and the Bent of their Inclinations. The Knowledge once obtained, the next Step is, to improve and heighten their good Qualities, and artificially to transform the Defects and Errors of their Nature, into Graces and Ornaments. As we muſt naturally Love thoſe, whom we deſire to inſtruct; and, as it is natural not to love thoſe, who obtrude Inſtruction upon us, but to liſten with Attention to thoſe whom we Love, and to gather Inſtruction from them, as it were without their Knowledge; It is, for theſe Reaſons, methinks Neceſſary, that the Method, generally obſerved in theſe Caſes, ſhould be Reverſed; that is to ſay, The Inſtruction of the Child ſhould be the Conſequence of a Tutreſs's Love towards it, and not her Love be the Conſequence of its taking her Inſtructions: Theſe Directreſſes of Youth ſhould begin, where they generally end. They give their Advices plainly and bluntly, and as thoſe happen to take Root direct their Affections or Reſentments: But they ſhould, firſt, Practice upon the Affections of their Wards, gain their Hearts, and make their own Love ſeen, and afterwards ſteal their Admonitions into them, under the Covert of Art, keeping them as much as poſſible, unſeen. Inſtruction thus Politically couched, will have a Power, that is Irreſiſtable, and make an amazing Progreſs in tender Minds. Advice, not ſeen by, will be ſure to be ſeen, in them.

[42]TO deſcend to Particulars, in our preſent Caſe: Looking over thoſe Romances and Novels, which her eldeſt Ward delights in, too much, Aſpaſia will certainly find ſome Heroick Examples of Vertue. Theſe ſhe would relate to ſome Friend, in the Secret, with very great Applauſes, ſo as to be Overheard by her fair Pupil, who will be prejudiced for a Judgment, that ſeems to favour her own, and that ſhe would be glad ſhould do ſo. She will be charmed to hear this, and remaining, as it were, perdue, liſten greedily to it, as the Commendation of her ſelf. When her Mind is thus ſtrongly prejudiced in Behalf of her Guardian, when it is warmed, and juſt ready to take the Impreſſion; then, juſt then, the Guardian has an Opportunity of preſſing down the Seal of Vertue. A little proper Female Oratory, in Commendation of the like Paſſages, ſtill more beautifully expreſſed, in ſuch Books, as ſhe would have her read, will make her long, and beg, of her own accord, to ſee them. As for Example; Aſpaſia might ſay: Such a noble Quality is eminently conſpicuous in the Hero of this Romance; but then he appears defective in ſuch other Points: The Hero of ſuch a Novel Revere for ſuch a Part of his Conduct, but he is greatly to blame in other Reſpects: The principal Character in ſuch a Book of Memoirs, would be a Favourite, and a ſhining Character, but for ſuch and ſuch Blemiſhes and Imperfections. Such a Gallant, [43] in ſuch a Play, behaves himſelf well throughout the whole Action, and makes me love him at my very Heart; but ſuch a Gallant has a villainous Deſign at Bottom, upon his Miſtreſs's Honour, and is my mortal Averſion. After having thus remark'd upon Texts, out of the Lady's own Scripture, it is Inexpreſſible, what an Effect it might have, if growing into a ſudden Rapture, Aſpaſia ſhould go on as follows: How does it charm and tranſport one, to find all theſe Vertues, and none of the oppoſite Vices; all theſe Beauties without Deformities, united in that one Favourite Character of mine, the Chriſtian Hero, deſcribed with all the Force, with which Vertue can be deſcribed, and painted with all the Beauties with which Beauty can be painted?—This Method, or ſuch a Method as this, would prompt the liſtening, bookiſh Ward to a Deſire of ſeeing that Tract; ſhe would long for it, ſhe would enquire after it, ſhe would beg to read it; ſhe would ſet to reading it already prejudiced in its Favour; It would gain upon her, in the Reading, till ſhe gained, what her Guardian would wiſh, from reading it. As ſhe has true Taſte, this juſt Picture, would beget in her a Contempt of thoſe coarſe Daubings of a Noveliſt's groſſer Hand. The ſame may be ſaid of the Heroines, celebrated in her favourite Romances. How much more charmingly is the fine Lady, deſcribed in the Marqueſs of Hallifax his Advice to a Daughter, and ſo of [44] others.—What Fruit may not be hoped and expected:—Reading that little Book, called, The Advice to a Daughter, and the Lady's Library, is enough to make young Women learn to Know themſelves: STEELE's Chriſtian Heroe, and the Gentleman Inſtructed, teach them abundantly to know Men. A Knowledge of themſelves, will be the Preſervative of their Honour; and a true Knowledge of Men will fortifie them againſt the Treacheries, that are uſed by artful Deceivers, of that Sex, which is almoſt ſure, one Time or other, to be either their RUIN, or their ORNAMENT.

N. B. There not being Room in this Paper, ſome Hints upon Education ſhall be occaſionally added, wherein ASPASIA's Elder Charge ſhall be further conſidered, not forgetting the Younger, who may be a fine Woman bred, notwithſtanding ſhe is born a COQUET.

The Plain Dealer. No 63.
MONDAY, October 26. 1724.

[45]
—Aliena Negotia Centum
Per caput, & circumſaliunt latus.
HOR.

I INTENDED in this PAPER, to have proceeded upon ſome Hints concerning EDUCATION: But I am forced to break off the Thread, and defer it to another Day. I have many entertaining LETTERS by me, from Edinburgh, and Bath; and two, that I muſt particularly mention from Covent-Garden, with Relation to my late Diſcourſe on the Play-Houſe Management; One is written by Mr. Sock, in a ſad, and lamentable Stile, and the other by Mr. Buskin, filled with ſuch Heroick Rants, that, however they excite no Terror, will as well anſwer the End of being exhibited to publick View; and move Diverſion, like ſome Modern Tragedies. With all theſe I ſhould be glad to oblige the Publick, as ſoon as poſſible; but the following EPISTLE, ſeems intended to Redreſs, in ſome Meaſure, an injured Perſon, and I think it a Part of Duty to quit other Speculations, though [46] never ſo inviting, where it lies in my Power to aſſiſt, towards reſcuing an honeſt Man, out of real, or even imaginary Diſtreſs, ſince the latter is often equally painful with the former.

To the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

IN One of your PAPERS concerning DETRACTION, you juſtly obſerved, That Perſons guilty of it, in a great City, ought to have ſome Diſtinguiſhing Signs to diſcover them, as Croſſes are placed on the Doors of the Diſeaſed, in the Time of a Peſtilence.

THAT happy Way of Reaſoning (inſeperable from Truth) which ſhines in all your Writings, on whatſoever Subject employed, carries Conviction in every Line, that gives the Good Man Pleaſure, and the Envious and Detracting, Pain.

THEN to whom ſhall I apply for Redreſs, but to the PLAIN DEALER, who, tho' above flattering the Great, thinks it not unworthy him, to do Juſtice, even to the Loweſt Degree of Merit.

WAS I to draw the Man I mean, in the Character of Husband, Father, or Friend, in each, he would pleaſe and ſatisfy; but as thoſe diſtinguiſhing Characters, are Private, tho' Undiſputed, I will beg leave to tell you, He has, in Active Life, a Fame, that [47] gives Uneaſineſs to ſome malignant People, while it does Good, more widely than they wou'd wiſh him able to extend it.

IF an indefatigable Induſtry, with his allowed Skill, and Humanity, crowned by the Bleſſing of the ALMIGHTY, with un-interrupted Succeſs, can recommend a Man to Eſteem in the uſeful Profeſſion of of Surgery, you will allow me to name Mr. Coltheart. Methinks I ſee him, (as I have often ſeen him) going to the Relief of ſome miſerable Object, with his uſual Chearfulneſs and Smiles (with that Regard however to the Cauſe, which the Greateſt could wiſh for, the Unhappy ſeldom find) as if he was going to ſome Great Man, whoſe Cure muſt make his Fortune; tho' he is certain to have no other Recompence than the Thanks and Prayers of his unfriended Patient.

INNUMERABLE Inſtances of this Kind the Grateful Many he has ſerved, wou'd give, who, tho' willing, are not allow'd to do him the Juſtice he deſerves; which induces me to believe, if ever Man took Pleaſure in doing Good, he does; as alſo to think him a proper Subject, and Excuſe, for my troubling you with this, who am,

SIR,
Your moſt Obedient, Humble Servant, Z. Y.

[48]WHEN I reflect upon the many Advantages ariſing to Mankind, from the Skill of a True Profeſſor of the Surgeon's Art, he appears ſo Uſeful a Member of the Common-Wealth, that he makes no inconſiderable Figure among the moſt conſiderable, like Machaon among the Heroes in Homer. The Perſon, this Letter relates to, far from meriting to be ſpoken ill of, deſerves that reſpect, which the beſt of all Books requires to be paid to the Phyſician, if it was for nothing elſe, but having, not long ſince, preſerved the Life of a Member, of a very noble Family, in which Wiſdom and Eloquence have been a long Time Hereditary.

AS I am brought once more, unwillingly, to touch upon that hated Subject, DETRACTION, I think I cannot do better, in order to deter People, from it, than to place before their Eyes a Picture of its Deformity, as it was drawn by that Great Maſter APELLES, and Deſcribed by an excellent old Author.

AT the Right-Hand, was drawn Sitting, a Man, with long Ears, putting forth his Hand to DETRACTION, who ſeem'd from afar off to come towards him. About this Man ſtood two Women, that is to ſay, IGNORANCE and SUSPICION: On the other ſide came DETRACTION, a Woman dreſs'd in great Pomp and Magnificence, but in a [49] mighty Paſſion of Anger, having her Aſpect like Fire. In her Left-Hand, ſhe held a burning Torch, and with her other, ſhe drew, by the Hair of his Head, a young Man, who held up his Hands towards Heaven, calling God, to Witneſs his Innocence: With Her, came a Woman, Pale and Evil-favoured, beholding the the young Man attentively, like one that had been conſumed with long Sickneſs, whom you might eaſily conjecture to be ENVY.

THERE followed two other Women, who made it their Buſineſs to adorn DETRACTION: One was TREASON, the other FRAUD: After, followed a Woman in Mourning, Black and Ragged, called REPENTANCE, who turning her Back, and ſore aſhamed, beheld TRUTH, who then came forward.

IT is thus, APELLES deſcribed DETRACTION, by which he himſelf was brought into extream Danger, having been falſely accuſed to King Ptolomy, of Egypt, who, upon his refuting the Accuſation, ordered him as many Talents, as would amount to Twelve Thouſand Pounds Sterling, and that his Accuſer ſhould be his perpetual Bonds-man.

IF ſome curious Engraver would form a Plate, upon this Model; the beſt Method would be for Perſons this way Injured, to [50] purchaſe a Ptint, and fix it, like a Play-Bill, at the Door of any noted Offender; after which, it ſhould be a Rule for the Neighbourhood, never to believe a Report that came from that Quarter, whether in Praiſe or Diſpraiſe of any Body.

BY this Means, the TONGUES of Evil-Speakers, and the PENS of Evil-Writers, would become Uſeleſs, and Unregarded; and Innocence, having nothing to fear, might look, untrembling, upon Slander.

The Plain Dealer. No 64.
FRIDAY, October 30. 1724.

[51]

Quid enim ſors eſt? Idem propemodum quod micare, quod talos jacere, quod teſſeras. Quibus in rebus temeritas & caſus non Ratio nec Conſilium valet.

CICERO Lib. 2. de Divin.
Iſta Veneficii eſt via.—
OVID Remed. Am.
Inveni germana viam (gratare ſorori)
Quae mihi reddat eum, vel eo me ſolvat amantem.
VIRG.

AMONG a Thouſand ſhining Proofs of the Capacity of Woman's Wit, I have met with no Inſtance more extraordinary, than the SUBJECT of the following LETTER: Which I therefore publiſh, in Honour of the Advance of Feminine Learning. Tho', when I conſider the Force of the Sex's Natural Magick, I obſerve with ſome Jealouſy, their Pretenſions to the ART of CONJURING.

A Common-Council Man of this Great City, writes to me, with much Impatience, to be inform'd, Whether there is no Statute, [52] in Force, againſt the Study of the BLACK ART? I was at a Loſs, what Art he meant, 'till he went on to inform me, That he can never make his Viſits, to a certain Lady, of his Acquaintance, but his Wife knows where he has been; and ſhews him, for Proof of it, a Man and a Woman, in a China Cup, diſcover'd, cloſer than they ſhou'd be, by means of certain Tell-tale HIEROGLYPHICKS, in the ſettling of her Coffee-Grounds.

APPLICATION has been alſo made to me, by the Husbands of ſome foreſeeing Ladies, who go to Bed, to take Counſel; and are as Wiſe, when aſleep, as waking.—One poor Gentleman, in particular, has been kept at Home, theſe ſix Days, upon a Dream which his Wife had, That an Owl flew out of her Boſom, and met with a Jack-Daw, that pick'd his Eyes out. This has abſolutely convinc'd her, that her Spouſe will receive ſome Miſchief, the firſt Time he ventures out of her Company.—In fine, our Women are become a Nation of Sages! And Men muſt ſhortly be Dependant on them, not for DELIGHT only, but INSTRUCTION.

SIR,

YOU were pleas'd, in a late PLAIN DEALER, to threaten the Male-World with an Inundation of Female-Wit. Before we are ſo happy as to have this comfortable Tide break in upon us, I conceive it to be the Duty of every married Chriſtian, [53] who is honeſty conſcious of his Wife's Superiority, to furniſh you with fit Materials; by confeſſing, as far as in him lies, the Bleſſing, that has befallen him.

I THINK it a wiſe Man's Part, to be humble, in the midſt of Preferment, and wou'd, therefore, be underſtood to ſpeak without boaſting, when I inform You, That I am able to read my own Name, among the Worſhipful, The Commiſſioners for Conſervation of His Majeſty's Peace.—But I have a Wife! who, not to praiſe her, more than ſhe really deſerves, wou'd have made a better Juſtice than I am.—Her Underſtanding blazes out, to the Admiration of All, who know her; only, like Wood, that is too vigorous, ſhe is apt to ſnap, a little, in her flaming: For which, in order to be Even with her, I have given her the Name of SNUBSY.

THE worſt of it is, She confines her Talent to one Science: And, ſo, her Qualities, which, if divided, might have adorn'd a hundred Arts, are, All, profuſely laviſh'd, for Improvement of that ſingle Purpoſe.

MY Spouſe, good Sir, to be plain with you, is far gone in Palmeſtry: But Greek and She, being intimate Acquaintance, Her own Name for it, is Chiromancy.—If Longitude lay in her Palm, ſhe cou'd not fail to diſcover it; and be paid for her peeping.—My Brothers, of the Bench, you know, are not without ſome Wit their Way; and [54] moſt of them can crack a Joke, when we meet, over a Bottle.—I venture now and then, to puſh a Pun, upon theſe Occaſions: And they All know, as well as I do, That I have no cloſe-fiſted Wife, tho' ſhe makes a good Hand of me.

I ALLOW her a Study, to herſelf, at the End of a long Gallery; where when I walk, and take my Pipe, I am ſure, If I but peep thro' the Key-hole, to ſee her Thumbs as high as her Eyes; and half a Score reverend Philoſophers, who Treat on this Deep Myſtery, lying ſpread, on a Table, before her.—She has Fortune, at her Fingers Ends! and never Sybil propheſied, with ſuch unwearied Application.

IT gives me no ſmall Delight, to obſerve how buſie ſhe will be, in looking over my Line of Life: And really ſometimes ſhe hits Things ſtrangely! One wou'd almoſt believe, ſhe has more Help than ſhe ſhou'd have!—My CEPHALICA, (which, you are to know, is my Head Line) has, it ſeems, a Forkey Figure, in the midſt of it, that points, with both Horns, againſt my Linea Vitalis.—I don't know why it is, but ſhe always laughs, when ſhe ſees this Mark; and ſays, She is ſure ſome Good will come of it, becauſe the But-end of the Fork points from the Dragon's Tail, to the Mount of Venus.

THO' I believe her at my Heart, yet I pretend to make a Doubt of it; becauſe [55] there can be no prettier Diverſion, than to ſee how ſhe frets, and what a deal of goodnatur'd Pains ſhe will take, to convince me of it!—I muſt own, I ſtand amaz'd at the Improvement of her Natural Parts, by the Benefit of frequent Practice, upon Secrets, I am utterly a Stranger to!

WE have a New Miniſter in our Pariſh, and, the firſt Time he came to dine, at our Houſe, I ſhall never forget how he ſtar'd, when SNUBSY began to ſhew her Learning!—She no ſooner looked in his Hand, than ſhe told him, He would be made a Biſhop. He is counted a Man of Letters, and yet he was not able to diſprove it; tho' he own'd, indeed, It was unlikely: For, ſhe reduced it to a Demonſtration, little leſs than Mathematical; by Squares, Trines, Circles, Stars, Spots, Tokens, Signs, Lines, and Figures, of a thouſand different Sorts, Direct, Tranſverſe, and Parallel: Purſuing every Argument, with an invincible Force of Reaſoning, through the Cavea Martis, to the Via Solis; and unravelling all the Croſſes, in the Tuberculum, on the Mons Saturni; 'till ſhe came within reach of the Via Lactea, under the Girdle of Venus: And there the Doctor ſtopt her, and made Acknowledgements of his Satisfaction.

WE went lately to ſhew Bedlam, to a Country-Couſin, who came up to viſit us: And, in the middle of the long Room, my SNUBSY took a Fancy, to let her Kinſwoman [56] woman ſee how fine a Skill ſhe was Miſtreſs of: In order to which, ſhe fell to reading us a Lecture, over the Palm of a ſilent Lunatic; who, with a Rugg about his Shoulders, very quietly gave her his Hand, through the Grate he was ſtanding at—She had juſt pointed out, How his Mons Mercurii became afflicted, by an Evil-line, from his Mons Lunae, when the Patient beſprinkled her Face, with a Bowl-full of a certain Ill-ſcented Liquor, of his own making, which his other Hand had concealed behind him. We were, all, in good Meaſure, made Partakers of his Bounty. But my Couſin, and I, were beginning to quit ſome Part of it, which we thought we ſhould have no Uſe for, when we were interrupted by our dripping Chiromancer, who ran between us, all in Tranſport, holding her Hands as high as our Eyes, and crying out, with great Vehemence, That Her Fears were now over;—For ſhe had foreſeen, by a Combuſt-Line, between her Pollex and her Cardiac, That ſhe ſhould be in Danger of a Violent Death, either by Drowning or Suffocation!

IT is not in my Power to explain to you All the Benefits, which I receive from this Profoundneſs of my Spouſe's Foreſight.—Other People, when they take New Servants, are forc'd to ſend, and enquire their Character: But my little Conjurer, does but peep upon their Palms, and ſatisfies her ſelf immediately.—I had a very ſtrong Partiality [57] for a ſmiling Country, Girl, that came, laſt Week, to offer her Service, in the Quality of a Chamber-Maid. But upon the very firſt Inſpection, my Examiner charg'd her Home, With Three Favourite Sweethearts; and then whiſpered ſomething in her Ear, which ſhe ſtaid not to return an Anſwer to; but ran, bluſhing, out of Doors, in the utmoſt Hurry and Diſorder. And this Diſcovery, my Caſſandra aſſured me, was grounded meerly upon Palmiſtry; the Girl having a manifeſt Triangle, on the Bottom of the Mount of Venus, which extended ſo far downward, as to make a Cleft in her Reſtricta.

I WAS, once, in ſome kind of Danger to have been drawn into a Plot; but my SNUBSY found it out, in the Palm of my Hand; and in Preſence of a Miniſter of State, who, I can aſſure You, made no ſmall Uſe of Her, convinc'd me, beyond Diſpute, that I ſhould bid fair for being hang'd, by Virtue of a crooked Line, that croſs'd my Via Combuſta. This frighted me from my fooliſh Purpoſe: But, I remember, I was ſtrangely comforted, to diſcover, at the ſame Time, upon the Miniſter's opening his Hand too, That his Lordſhip had a Combuſta, as dangerouſly mark'd, as mine was.

AFTER ſo happy a Deliverance, by Interpoſition of Her Art, I grew deſirous to be taught it; and with a great Deal of Good [58] Succeſs I got over the Heathen Names of her Planets; and knew what Parts of her Hand they kept Houſe in. I was wonderfully pleaſed with VENUS, when I found, in my Primmer of Palmeſtry, That ſhe ſignified Woman-kind, Kiſſes, and Ladies Curioſities: But I could never away with MERCURY; For her Books were pleas'd to inform me, That he held his Influence over Pages, Pimps, and Lawyers; Juſtices of the Peace, and Aſtrologers. I thought it, from that Time forward, unbecoming my Honour and Gravity, to apply my ſelf to an Art, that had treated my Office with ſuch Indignity. And, as often as I caſt my Eye upon theſe Venerable Words, Juſtice of the Peace, and ſaw them mix'd with ſuch Ill Company, I clos'd my Fiſt in a Fury, and would ſtudy Palmiſtry no longer.

YET, in the Way my SNUBSY practices, Truth compells me to confeſs, It is an inexhauſtable Fund of Benefits, both to my Self, and to the Publick.—If I happen to be ſick, ſhe conſults not my Pulſe, but, my Palm. And, when Perſons of leſs Learning, feel Change of Weather, in their Toes, ſhe reads it, under her Fingers. In ſhort, it is impoſſible for any Body, but One, who knows as much of her as I do, to imagine what ſtrange Sings and Tokens, ſhe carries about her; and what Great Things they ſignifie.

[59] To ſuch a powerful Pitch of Perfection has ſhe rais'd her ſurprizing Skill, that ſhe ſaved a poor Man's Life, lately, who was brought before me, by a Neighbour's Daughter, in Order to charge him, upon Oath, With having done no leſs than raviſh'd her: But SNUBSY, who was for beginning the Examination, in her own Way, no ſooner ſaw the Inſide of their Hands, than ſhe convinced the Sufferer, very ſeaſonably, That the Accident was unavoidable; having been foretokened, by a plain Inciſure, on the Center of her Via Lactea: So that being decreed, from Both their Births, this Misfortune became a Fate; and it would have been in vain to have ſtruggled againſt it.—The poor Girl wept, and thanked her; and, with charitable Change of Purpoſe, told the Priſoner, That ſhe forgave him heartily; for ſhe thought it Hard, To have a Man hanged for doing Nothing, but what he was born for.

IN Juſtice to the Merit of a Wife, ſo deeply learn'd, I could do leſs than deſire you to acquaint the World with my SNUBSY's Character, when you come to lay open the Genius of our Engliſh Ladies.

I am, with due Regard, SIR, Your never-failing Reader, And your humble Servant, WALTER WORSHIPFUL.

The Plain Dealer. No 65.
MONDAY, November 2. 1724.

[60]
Per varios Caſus, per tot Diſcrimina Rerum,
Tendimus—
VIRG.

To the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

IN my Laſt, I laid before You a ſhort Character of the preſent Magiſtrates of this City; and ſome Account of the Factious Spirit, that too often diſturbs Them, and their Laudable Undertakings. I am not at all ſurpriz'd to hear, That many of your Readers, among my own Countrymen, have taken Offence at my Free Correſpondence, notwithſtanding the Sanction of your Judgment, under which it is publiſhed.

PREJUDICE will always make the World Uneaſie: Whatever Cauſe it proceeds from, it never fails to govern the Underſtanding, in a very ſhameful Manner. And, tho' it is often no more than the imbib'd Senſe of a ſecond Perſon, which a Man makes uſe of as his own, it [61] is rarely, and with great Difficulty, reſtrain'd from producing innumerable bad Conſequences in Life, with the Face and Appearance of ſomething that is Good; it mixes it ſelf with every Circumſtance and Action, and has every where a powerful Influence. One Man calls it Religion, another Principle; and he who dares be Blunt, owns it by its plain Name of Party. Whatever is done, or ſaid, upon this Foundation, though never ſo Faulty, ſhall find Advocates; and, however Praiſe-worthy, Condemnation. What a Shame is it to Reaſon, to hear it avow'd, That ſuch a Sett of Men can do Nothing Ill, becauſe on our Side? And ſuch another, Nothing Well, becauſe they Vote with our Enemies?—But Enough of this Subject.—If, as 'tis generally own'd, The Publick Good ſhould be the Point moſt in View, of each Individual, I ought to reſt ſatisfied, and may deſpiſe the Spleen of my Cenſurers.

BUT, Sir, I am inclined to conſtrue favourably, and, perhaps, the Indignation that ſome People expreſs againſt good Perſons, and good Things, is not ſo much the Effect of Vice, as of Ignorance. As when a Scheme is propoſed for Publick Benefit, Blockheads may innocently decry it, becauſe they cannot comprehend it. This I take to be the preſent Caſe, from the dull Oppoſition, that I have wonder'd to ſee made againſt ſeveral highly generous and profitable [62] Undertakings. Men, whoſe Souls are ſhort-ſighted, love to walk in Old Ways, becauſe they are in no Danger of being loſt, while they have a Hedge at each Elbow. Thus the Hotentots adhere to their Hereditary Dirt and Nakedneſs: Thus the Iriſh too, were formerly inſtigated to rebel againſt the Yoke, in Defence of their ancient Privilege of drawing Ploughs by their Horſes Tails, with all the Wit of a free-born Stedfaſtneſs. And, I am ſorry I have Cauſe to ſay, That for a Reaſon of this goodly Sort, my Neighbours love ſtinking Streets, and hate the Innovation of Neceſſary Houſes.

IF in this Part of the World, we chance to hear of a Project to make us Cleanly, we wonder at the crack-brain'd Whimſie, and guard our Hearts againſt Vanity. If it is undertaken at the particular Expence of the Propoſer, we diſcourage the Guilt of ſo preſuming a Generoſity. Nay, let a Thing be actually executed, and compleatly done to our Hands, we have ſtill Spirit enough to rail at it, with the moſt maſculine Inflexiblity. In this, and other Reſpects, I have Inſtances in my View; and my Neighbours will take my Meaning, tho' not my Counſel.

IT were eaſie, SIR, to expatiate upon the Ignorance, and Partiality, that prevail among our People, were I inclined to write Satyr, and expoſe the Weakneſs of my [63] Country-men. But, as I am unwilling to ſpread their Defects, I beg Leave, on the the other Side, to lay before you ſeveral more of the Bleſſings and Ornaments our City boaſts of!

YOU have done us the Honour, to diſtinguiſh the Genius and Virtue of ſome of the riſing Generation, in one of your PAPERS; and my laſt begins an Account of the FAIR ASSEMBLY here in Edinburgh, which, notwithſtanding the Oppoſition of our Clergy, is one of the beſt Nurſeries of Politeneſs in SCOTLAND. By Means thereof, our Youth of both Sexes, learn a Habit of Briskneſs and Freedom, which, till of late, were leſs frequent among us. That Reſtraint, and Stiffneſs of Air and Addreſs, which diſtinguiſhed us from People of more generous Education, by Decrees, wears away; and Converſation, which was formerly ſo confin'd, and ſo dull, grows open, free, and eaſie: Ladies find they may ſpeak to Gentlemen, without Violence to their Modeſty, and Gentlemen may entertain Ladies, without Deſigns upon their Virtue. It is now no more a Sight, when a Lover waits on his Miſtreſs Home, or takes a Walk with her in a Garden. Nay, we have Husbands, who, without Jealouſie, can hear Batchelours invite their Wives to an Entertainment. In ſhort, we exchange the Spaniſh Affectation and Gravity, for the Engliſh Liberty and Free Spirit; and, in Place of [64] Narrow Minds, and the vileſt Hypocriſie, we are growing Profane enough to aſſert the Dignity of Humane Reaſon, and the Innocent Privileges of Nature.

PERHAPS I am not miſtaken, when I affirm, That this Converſion (I beg Leave of the Clergy to make Bold with the Word, becauſe I have as Good a Title to it, as they have) is, in a great Meaſure, the Effect of the Union of the Two Kingdoms. But, when I conſider it is an Advantage, I wou'd not be thought to mean, that either Nation is yet too Happy under the Effects of their Incorporation. It may be allow'd us, I preſume, to wiſh, that however ſtrictly they are united, they may never be bound ſo cloſe, but that one Hand may be looſe enough to aſſiſt and unite the other, if it is not quite impoſſible, there ſhou'd ariſe, in ſome future Age, ſuch a Miracle, as a Corrupt Miniſtry; or a Prince, leſs watchful, than our preſent Glorious SOVEREIGN, for the Defence of his Peoples Liberties.

BUT I am no Politician; nor will I attempt to Enlarge upon a Subject that fits not the Purpoſe of your PAPER; though I promiſe my ſelf, That the PLAIN DEALER will not ſcruple, when Occaſions riſe, to aſſert the Rights, as well as the Senſe of a True Briton.

I PROCEED to Remark, That as the Correſpondence and Communication between the now United Kingdoms, has, in a great [65] Meaſure, improv'd and poliſh'd the Taſte, the Air, and the Faſhions, of both the Gentlemen and Ladies of my Country; ſo it has alſo refin'd our Language, in a very ſenſible Manner. I do not mean the Accent and Pronunciation, when we ſpeak it—For theſe are hardly to be naturaliz'd without much Time, and continual Converſe; there being, in England itſelf, a Shibboleth, peculiar to every County. No wonder then, that Scotsmen find it difficult to come up to their Standard.

BUT, if you'll allow, that we make ſome Progreſs in the Subſtance of the Language, we will readily give up our Pretenſions to the Graces of it. Yet our way of pronouncing the Vowels has Advocates in Foreign Countries: And, perhaps, the Authority might deſerve a Review with the Engliſh.

I have wonder'd, to ſay Truth, that we are ſuch Proficients in the Language, conſidering we have neither a Court, nor a Theatre, which are the acknowledged Fountains of its Refinement.

WHEN I look into the Writings of Mr. DRUMMOND of Hathornden, in the Reign of King JAMES I. Sir GEORGE MACKENZIE, in the Reign of King CHARLES II. The Earl of LAUDERDALE, in the Reign of King JAMES II. Biſhop BURNET, and Mr. FLETCHER of Salton, in the two laſt Reigns; and of a certain noted Writer, [66] in the preſent; when I compare their Style with the Style of ſome of their Cotemporaries in England, I am tempted to think my Country-men not ſo very far inferiour, as that Criticks ſhou'd depreciate our Pretenſions to the Language. But, when I conſider too, That whatever Elegance, or Maſtery, of that Sort we arrive at, is as much a Virtue in us, as 'tis Nature in You, I am vain enough to imagine, that we merit no leſs Praiſe; at leaſt ſhou'd meet with fair Indulgence.

ONE Thing more I beg leave to Remark, with Reſpect to our Language. Many of our Words, that ſeem Uncouth, and are not underſtood by Engliſh-men, are, notwithſtanding, of Engliſh Origin; and are not leſs Emphatical, and Worthy, for being Obſolete among You. I find few old Words in DOUGLAS's VIRGIL, that are not alſo to be found in CHAUCER: And, perhaps, our ALLAN RAMSAY, a living Verſifier in Old-Style, uſes few that are not to be met with in SHAKESPEAR, SPENCER, &c.—except, when he coins Words, by virtue of his extra-judicial Poetick Privileges, that never were, and never will be, uſed by any Mortal, beſides Himſelf.

LIVING Languages, are like living Trees; they have their Summer and their Winter. The Words of the One, like the Leaves of the Other, fall off, and are ſucceeded [67] by a new Generation. It is, however, Diſcretion's Work, in this Caſe, to Naturalize none, at the Expence of better.

YOU ſee, Sir, with what Freedom I write my Senſe both of Perſons and Things to you. I own, I obſerve no Order in the Form of my Letters: Nor do I believe That wou'd recommend me more to your Regard. What I chiefly aim at, is, A natural Simplicity in my Expreſſions, and a Truth in my Facts, becoming a Correſpondent of the PLAIN DEALER.

'I HAVE the Honour to be with due Veneration,

SIR,
Your truſty Intelligencer, and moſt Obedient Servant, FERGUS BRUCE.

AFTER having thank'd my Correſpondent, for the Continuance of his agreeable Intelligence, I ſhall cloſe with a ſhort Remark on on what he ſays, concerning our Language.

I AGREE with Him entirely, that many of of our old Words had the ſame Original with theirs; for all that Part of Scotland, to the the Southward of the Frith, was as much Saxon as we were: So then the Foundation of our Language being the ſame, it is not ſo reaſonable, as I wiſh it were, to allow this ingenious Gentleman the Claim he makes, in [68] Behalf of his Country—That the Elegance and Maſtery, which are by Nature in Us, are a Virtue in North Britain.

THE Nature is certainly alike to both Nations: The Virtue is moſt due, where the Improvement was firſt made. The Nobility and Gentry of Scotland have, at leaſt, for Ages paſt, been as learned as the Engliſh, and much more accuſtom'd to foreign Travel and Correſpondence. Theſe are the great, and indeed the only Cauſes of Refinement in a Language—For Trade and Luxury are much more likely to corrupt it, by the Confuſion they introduce, mixing Degrees and Diſtinctions, and contracting our Care to regard nothing ſo much as INTEREST.

SINCE then the Scotch Language was once the very ſame with the Engliſh; and ſince their People have been more intimately Converſant, than ours, among Foreign Nations; and have always enjoy'd the ſame Aſſiſtance of Learning, and yet have been behind us in the Improvement of our common Tongue; it follows by Neceſſity, That the Praiſe of Virtue is in ours—But it is a Birth-right, which, like Kentiſh Gavel-Kind, we muſt equally divide with our Brothers, in the next Generation: for, tho' they were ſlow Setters out, they have prov'd Themſelves as good Runners, and will be a-breaſt with us, in the Race, and loſe no Ground for the Future.

The Plain Dealer. No 66.
FRIDAY, November 6. 1724.

[69]
Credula res amor eſt—
OVID MET.
—Tormentis gaudet Amantis.
JUV.

THE Complaint of AMANDA in the following LETTER, is of a Nature as New, as the Foundation of it is Juſt. The Guilt which it ſpeaks of, is frequent enough: But this fine-ſpirited, and diſcerning Lady, has placed it on the Perſon who has, hitherto, been look'd on as moſt Innocent, and deſerving Pity.—The Truth is, there are a thouſand Reſemblances of Virtue, which if unmaſq'd, by ſo diſtinguiſhing a Hand as AMANDA's, wou'd aſſume their proper Faces, and be known for Vices, and Follies.—I will entertain my Readers, with this Lady's Excellent LETTER, juſt as I receiv'd it, and afterward, in Obedience to her Command, conſider the Complaint, which is the SUBJECT of it.

[70]
SIR,

WHEN Parents have ſo much Zeal for their Childrens Promotion, and ſo little for their Happineſs, as to force them to Marry the Perſon they have an Averſion to, How is the World mov'd, with a Tenderneſs of Concern! And Nature ſhock'd with the Violence!

SUCH a Conſtraint has always met with its juſt Diſcouragement: And your Predeceſſor in PLAIN DEALING took it under his Care. But, Whether it is from the Pride of one Sex, who are fond of the Reputation, even, of a Lover whom they Hate! Or, from the unjuſt Partiality, of the Other, The much greater Offender, in my Opinion, paſſes uncenſured.—Such Parents are ſtigmatiz'd with Inhumanity, and well they may! But what ſhall we ſay of Him, who continues to teize the Woman, who abhors him? who wou'd force her to make a Proſtitute of her Love? To enſlave herſelf to Intereſt? And, when her Refuſal has drawn down the Reſentment of her Parents, lays it, all, on his Exceſs of Love.

IS Love then ſo baſe a Paſſion? So void of Tenderneſs? So unlike itſelf, and all its generous Pretences? that it can feed on the Quiet of the beloved Object! and ſteal from it the Joy which it has not Power to give it! No, no, The real Lover knows not how to Offend.—His Happineſs [71] muſt riſe, and fall, with Hers, who inſpir'd his Paſſion.—But if, on the contrary, His Deſires run Counter to her Happineſs, It is not Love; It is Brutality! And, if He, who is thus poſſeſs'd, ſuppoſes Himſelf in Love, He is deceiv'd, and wou'd deceive Others.

BUT, even granting, All This were the real Effect of Love, on the Part of the Purſuer, where can a Woman find That dedelightful Harmony, That inexhauſtible Spring of Bliſs, which we are taught to expect, in Loving? Can the Conſtancy of an unlov'd Lover ever win her to a Compliance? No—rather Prepoſſeſſion will guard the Paſſes of her Heart, nor ſuffer it to be brib'd by Obligations; And Time does but add to our Hatred: For Opportunity finds out Faults, and furniſhes Reaſons for our Refuſal.—In ſhort, ſuch a Lover ſhows more Extravagance, than Conſtancy; more Inhumanity, than Paſſion.

THIS, Sir, is my own Misfortune, to be miſerably haunted, by the Man, whoſe Sight is Odious to me: One, whom no Words can convince! No Denials ſatisfie! No affronts affect! Inſenſible of my Uneaſineſs; and Indefatigable, in creating it!—I wou'd fly him, but I cannot, unleſs I wou'd fly my Friends too, and my Parents: Nor have I any Intimate left, whom his Diligence, and Inſinuations, have not made his Own.

[72] 'TIS of YOU, therefore, I muſt beg, to ſay ſomething, that may give me Eaſe, and have ſome Effect on my troubleſome Purſuer: And, if, in any Thing I have ſaid, I am Miſtaken, in my Sentiments, or unguarded, in my Expreſſions, be pleas'd to Correct it; and think, That a Woman can't be always on her Guard, who has ſo juſt a Cauſe for Reſentment, as,

Your Unfortunate, Humble Servant, AMANDA.

IT the Admiration, which is due to ſuch a Merit as this Lady's, did not place her above Pity, I cou'd be ſorry for that Perſecution, which ſhe Laments, in ſo Elegant, and Pathetic, a Manner. The Gentleman, who is ſo unhappy as to be the Subject of her Complaint, will be the laſt, that feels the Force of it.—There is a Love of ourſelves, deeply rooted in human Nature, that impoſes on us, firſt, and, then, emboldens us to impoſe on Others. We do not approve the Faults, which we are guilty of; But, which is almoſt as bad, we cannot ſee them:—We join heartily in, with thoſe, who condemn the very Follies which are moſt remarkably our own; and are all the while inſenſible how ridiculous we appear to Others, by adhering publickly [73] to the Practice of what we, as publickly, continue to Cenſure.

IT is, I muſt confeſs, the hardeſt Leſſon of Nature, to correct the Extravagancies of Love.—Where this Paſſion is Real, It will be the Sovereign of the Mind. It moulds the Soul to its own Purpoſes; and lends its own Eyes to the Underſtanding. Neither does it depend, for its Violence, or Moderation, on the Capacity of the Lover, but on the Proportion, in which it actuates him. The Wiſe Man, in this Caſe, has no Prerogative, above the Fool. It is in Love, as it in Madneſs, The more Exalted the Genius, the more unbounded the Raging!—A Wiſe Man may much better defend himſelf, than a Fool can; But, when He yields, there is no Difference; becauſe Opinion, in this Paſſion, always ſtands in the Place of Reaſon.

THIS being the Caſe, AMANDA has ſmall Encouragement; who, by appealing to what is Reaſonable, would diſſwade her Lover from what is Neceſſary.—Her Charms have deprived his Life of every Comfort, but what She gives it; and, while He loves, at the Rate ſhe ſays he does, it will be impoſſible for him, to think himſelf ſo much in the Wrong, as ſhe finds him.

IT would, certainly, be a Great Happineſs, if Men, who love, without Hope, could deſiſt, without Miſery: For, beſides that AMANDA's Argument has thrown an Air of ungenerous Selfiſhneſs, on the Obſtinacy [74] of ſuch Addreſſes, there is This further Miſchief in it, That a Lover, whom an avowed Hatred cannot repulſe, in his Application, cuts off his Right, when he becomes a Husband, to complain of, or return, Ill Uſage,—Is ſhe too Cold, too Unkind, too Diſdainful, for a Wife?—How much greater is His Fault, who foreſaw all This, and, yet, would make her one?—He loved Her, before She pitied Him, and conſented to become His, notwithſtanding the moſt open Profeſſion of her Inſenſibility! And how Baſe, and Ungenerous muſt it be, To make the Continuance of that Inſenſibility his Pretence for treating her Ill, after ſhe has put her ſelf under his Protection; which, while ſhe refus'd, and deteſted him, had no Power to move his Reſentment!

EITHER, He ought, with a manly Fortitude, to tear himſelf from the Remembrance of an Object, ſo inſenſible of his Torments; or, in Gratitude, for a Compliance, that was Involuntary, and the Effect, rather, of Compaſſion, than of Love, He ſhould reſolve to ſupport himſelf under the Misfortune of her Averſion, without permitting his own Sentiments to be imbittered, by the Effects of it; till, by a Progreſs of perſwaſive Softneſs, He ſhall have touched her reluctant Heart, and prepared it to receive Impreſſions, as well of Love, as of Gratitude.

BUT, how Monſtrous is the Brutal Figure, which I have ſeen ſome Husbands make! [75] who, when Lovers, were the Pooreſt, and moſt Abject, of all Slaves!—When they ſhould be Defenders, they are Tyrants; and when it was reaſonable for them to have been Provoked, they were ſtupidly Submiſſive!—How contemptible is their unmanly Weakneſs! A moroſe and reſtleſs Peeviſhneſs, makes up the Behaviour they expect to charm by! They contract a ſurly, ſower Habit, from the Diſappointments they meet in Life; and, inſtead of ſoftening the Edge of Affliction, toward the Woman, who is bound to ſhare their Sufferings, they double them on her Head, from whom, (in Honour, and Humanity) they ought to ward off Sorrow, by a noble Sweetneſs, and endearing Tenderneſs in their whole Behaviour!

BUT the pleaſanteſt Stupidity of all, is, That when, by a Length of Savage Cruelties, they have made themſelves compleatly Odious; they are impudent enough to wonder, How it happens that their Wives appear no fonder of them?

THERE is no Part of our Life that requires a nicer Conduct than our Choice of the Perſon, with whom we are to vow an inſeperable Union; and, yet, there is Nothing, which we venture on, with more Raſhneſs; or which we examine, with ſo little Foreſight!—And, hence it is, That MATRIMONY, with equal Satyr, and Juſtice, has been compared, by one of our Old Poets, To a Crowd in the Street, which excites a Curioſity, in [76] every Paſſer-by, to add one Fool to the Number: But, they are no ſooner in the midſt of the Preſs, than they grow uneaſy at their Situation, and are as Eager to elbow out again, as they were, before, to gain Admiſſion.

MARRIAGE is like unto a Rabble-Rout;
They, that are OUT, would fain get IN;
And They, that are IN would fain get OUT.

MANY are the Pleaſantries, which the Truth, and Frequency, of this unlucky Obſervation have given Occaſion to, among Men of Wit; who, having laugh'd, a while, at Others, grow ſilly enough, themſelves, to be alſo laughed at, in their Turns.—But, in all the Multitude of Sarcaſtick Fancies, which I have met with, upon this beaten Subject, I remember none, that is ſo uncommon, and founded on ſo humorous a Piece of Extravagance, as an EPITAPH, which I ſaw, at Rome; where a Man, and his Wife, who were buried, together, are repreſented quarrelling, in their Grave.—The Original is in Latin, but I will tranſlate it, for the Service of Coquets, and Old Maids, who cannot fail to make Good Uſe of it, on a THEME, which they delight in handling.

[77]
STAY, Batchelor! if you have Wit!
A Wonder to behold!
Husband, and Wife, in One dark Pit,
Lye cloſe, and never Scold!
Tread ſoftly, though,—for Fear ſhe wakes:
Hark! She begins, already!
You've hurt my Head,—My Shoulder akes.
Theſe Sots can ne'er move ſteddy.
Ah, Friend, with happy Freedom bleſt!
See! how my Hope's miſcarried.
Not DEATH it ſelf, can give you Reſt,
Unleſs you die, Unmarried.

The Plain Dealer. No 67.
MONDAY, November 9. 1724.

Provehimur portu, terraeque, urbeſque, recedunt.
VIRG.

BY this Time, I ſuppoſe, I paſs for an Out-of-the-Way Old Humouriſt, who has Nothing in him, but a few odd Whimſies, which he takes Delight to be noted for. But, now the Town begins to fill, I deſign to take more [78] State upon me: And before the Winter is half out, I ſhall cauſe it to appear, pretty Plainly, That I can make free with Trade and Politicks, as well as with Wit and Impertinence.

I WAS walking, the other Day, near the Royal Exchange, and took up a little Pamphlet, that lay in my Way, at a Bookſeller's Shop, Intituled, New, and Accurate Obſervations, on the Coaſt of GUINEA.—I was pleas'd with this Subject: For, tho' I inform'd my Reader, my firſt ſetting out, That I was an Enemy to the Eaſt-India Company, (by which hangs a Secret, that may be diſclos'd in ſome future Paper) yet I am a Lover of THE ROYAL AFRICAN: And have good Reaſons, for both Opinions.

THE Gentleman, who is Author of the above-mention'd Treatiſe, is a Phyſician, newly return'd from the Coaſt he writes of.—He ſeems to be a Perſon of Learning and Experience; and expreſſes himſelf with a Warmth of Spirit, that carries in it a Generous Plainneſs, and a rough, but Manly, Integrity.—When I began to peruſe his Book, I thought He appear'd too Angry: But, before I had read it out, the ill Uſage He complains of, ſeem'd incapable of being remember'd, without an Agitation of ſuch Paſſions, as muſt leave him fully acquitted.—The Abuſes and Miſmanagements, which this Gentleman enumerates, are ſuch, as I am ſorry to hear of, becauſe their Conſequences muſt affect the Company, in too ſenſible a Manner.

[79]I HAVE often reflected, not without the utmoſt Amazement, from what ſtrange Cauſes it ſhou'd happen, That the Credit of that Company has been ſunk, to ſo low an Ebb; ſince nothing can be more demonſtrable, than that It has Advantages, beyond Compariſon, above all others, to make it ſelf the moſt Flouriſhing!—If any Deficience, within themſelves, with Regard to Stock, or Encouragement, is the Prevention of their Good Purpoſes, methinks, their Complaints cou'd be no ſooner heard, than they wou'd be ſure of a Remedy! For, even as they, now ſtand, no Company exiſts, that is of ſuch Importance to the Nation.—If the Intereſt of England, in Reſpect to Trade, depends moſt, as it certainly does, upon her American Plantations, thoſe Plantations do, as certainly, depend on the Slave-Trade from AFRICA. A Trade! that ſtrengthens us, in the very Vitals, and firſt Principle of Government: For it is perpetually adding Encreaſe to the Numbers of our uſeful People; far beyond the progreſſive Growth of our ſlow, and Natural Multiplication.

THE Nation, too, (in Point of Wealth, as well as Power) is, to an infinite Degree, more advantag'd than The Company, by Effect of this Negro Traffick. When the Company have ſold a Slave, That Profit, which they once make, is All the Benefit, which he can, ever, bring them.—But, for the Benefit of the Nation, there is no computing what may be [80] gain'd, by him. Not only the Wretch, himſelf, but his Children's Children, after him, down to the lateſt Generations, are, for ever, doom'd to Work; and All their Product is the Nation's.—The Difference is Vaſt, and Infinite!

THE Extent of Country, comprehended within the Limits of This Company's Charter, is Prodigious and Aſtoniſhing! For above Thirty Degrees, on one Side, from the Line, and about Twenty, from the other, all the Coaſt is within their Limits: So that they have all the Good, Variety, of Soils, and of Latitude, which the whole World can afford them.—They have, conſequently, within their Bounds, a proper Earth and Climate, for every rich Product, that we pick up here and there, at the remoteſt Diſtances, from one Side of the Globe to the other.—They have not, it is true, a Claim of Property to the Lands: But, how eaſily might they purchaſe it, as far as cou'd be neceſſary, at Rates too inconſiderable to deſerve the naming?—They have Iſlands too, and Settlements, never ſubject to the Natives Inſults.—Why might not theſe be cultivated? Why not Rice, Sugar, Indigo, Cotton, Ginger, and Tobacco, brought hence, as well as from America? And how much ſooner, and eaſier?

IN one ſhort and comprehenſive View, may be ſeen a Demonſtration of the Difference, as to the Company's Profit, between the Slaves they tranſport to America, and thoſe [81] whom they might employ, if they pleas'd, to raiſe Products, for their own Benefit.

TO ſay nothing of the Charge of Shipping them, which wou'd be ſav'd, upon All, ſo employ'd, in Africa; nor to inſiſt on the mafeſt Advantage, of cheaper Freight, and ſhorter Voyages, what can be plainer than this Way of Reaſoning?—Compute the Company's Profit, by the Sale of a Negro, to be Equal with what might be Gain'd by him, in a Year's Work, over and above his Maintainance, and the Intereſt of his Prime Coſt, (which it certainly never is) yet, the Negro, that WORKS for the Company, coſts no more, than One, who is SOLD, for them: Whereas this Laſt is wholly Loſt, from that Day forward, to their Intereſt; while the Firſt, returns them Yearly, the ſame Profit, during Life, without new Charge, to Balance it.

I SPOKE, juſt now of Products, which are commonly rais'd, by our Planters in America; and might, as certainly, be rais'd in Africa; But there are Eaſtern Harveſts, of much greater Conſequence, which Time, I hope, will teach This Company to reap, without more Difficulty, than may gradually be ſurmounted!—Why not the richeſt of the Eaſt Indian Spices, Pepper, Nutmegs, Cloves, and Cinnamon, procur'd and planted there? They have Soil and Climate exactly the ſame, with thoſe in which they grow: Nay, they have wild Spices, riſing naturally, under their [82] Agent's Eyes, to be as it were, an Indication, and puſh 'em forward, to Attempt it!

BUT, if they will not be perſwaded to tranſplant Advantages, at leaſt they might poſſeſs themſelves of thoſe, which lie before them. They have Gold, which the Natives gather and bring down to their Forts and Factories. I know what Difficulties attend the View, I am about propoſing: And I know too, that tho' they are Conſiderable, they are far from Unſurmountable. What hinders, then, but that the Uplands might be diſcover'd; and perhaps the Gold Mines found, and work'd upon, by the Natives themſelves, for the Company's Benefit, in Exchange, for what thoſe Natives value more, but which wou'd coſt little to their Furniſhers? And this Attempt, tho' peaceably eſtabliſh'd and purſued, might, for more certain Safety, be protected by the Awe of an Armed Force: A very ſmall one, were ſufficient here, where Numbers are of little Strength, for want of Courage or of Order.

HOW much more Uſeful, than ſome of their preſent Factories, would Forts and Settlements be, a Hundred Miles, or more, in Diſtance, One above the Other, along the Niger, or ſome other of thoſe Prodigious Rivers, which flow a Courſe of two or three Thouſand Miles, through the Heart of this vaſt and unknown Continent? How eaſie were it for the People in theſe Forts, to poſſeſs and cultivate, a large Tract round them? To diſcover the Bordering Country and Trade, and [83] make Leagues with the Neighbouring Princes? To maintain a regular and frequent Correſpondence with each other, by means of Light Veſſels, with flat Bottoms, adapted to the Navigation propereſt for thoſe Rivers: And once a Year, or oftener, to ſend down their General Stores, to the Company's Ships, at the Entrance, and receive back, with the Return of their ſmall Veſſels, what ſhould be ſent them from Home, either for their Support or Traffick!—What new, and numberleſs Nations might the Company thus Trade with, at firſt Hand, to their unſpeakable Enrichment?—And were ſuch an Entrance once open'd to them, by expert and reſolute Adventurers, what popular Encreaſe of Conſumption, would it not occaſion, in our Woollen, and many other, Manufactures?

THERE are no Impoſſibilies, in Deſigns, of this Nature, but to narrow and confin'd Underſtandings; and to Spirits of a heavy Fabrick. But this Company has the Honour to be aſſiſted by Great Genius's, Wiſe, and Enterprizing enough to mark out the Way, to Meaſures that might ſoon recover them from the preſent Ill Proſpect of their Affairs, and make the Memory of the ROYAL AFRICAN COMPANY Dear and Glorious to all Poſterity.

IT is a Work of too much Length, for ſuch a Paper as mine is, to prove how practicable theſe Things are; But I ſhall, ſometimes, occaſionally, touch the Subject, with the Brevity [84] I am confin'd to: Becauſe, when I conſider into what Hands my Hints may fall, I flatter my ſelf, they may grow Fruitful, and become a Service to my Country.

THE Duke of CHANDOS, in the Head of Theſe, has ſo Fine, and ſo Enlarg'd a Spirit; and is ſo Great, and ſo Acknowledg'd, an Honour to our Nation, That it is ſcarce poſſible to expreſs, in his Praiſe, ſo much as every wiſe Man muſt Think of him!—I dare not, therefore, attempt ſo hard a Task as his full Character: But, while I mention him, I am on Fire, with ſuch an Admiration of his Generous Qualities, that I cannot forbear to cloſe my Paper, with ſuch faint Out-lines, as can be Sketch'd, by One who draws at too much Diſtance.

IT is not alone, in the Princely Grandeur of his Oeconomy, that this Illuſtrious Lord reflects a Brightneſs on his Honour'd Order, and points out to us, in a ſhining Light, what a Nobleman was meant to be. Appearance, He well knows, can be no more than the Shadow of Subſtantial Glory.—He looks inward, therefore, and draws out, into Practice and Example, ſuch a ſurprizing Train of Vertues, That, inſtead of ſupporting his Diſtinction upon the Title, which was ſo juſtly due to his, He has added to it much more Honour, than ſome, who wear it with a Colder Spirit, have been able to borrow from it.

THO' Deſcended from a Noble Line, one of the moſt Ancient of the Kingdom! He diſdain'd [85] to owe his Greatneſs to the Grandeur of his Anceſtors: Nor ever thought of his Fore-Father's Honours, but as an Archer raiſes his Eye to the Point of ſome high Steeple, when he would ſhoot his Arrow over it.

HOW Inconſiderable, in ſo Generous a Taſte as His, are all the Glitterings of a Dependant Greatneſs! How much Nobler, after His, more than Imperial, Manner, to adorn and ſerve this Country, his own unbounded Expence, than to be more buſie, to perhaps leſs Purpoſe, and be Paid, for his Want of Liberty, at the Head of an Adminiſtration!

THE World lies open, to his Eye, and All its Intereſts are exactly known to him: But nothing can he ſee, in any Part, or happy Corner of it, more belov'd and worthy, than he himſelf is!—There is this too, Peculiar in him, That his Mind, with all its Vaſtneſs, is ſerenely Centrical and Regular: His Purpoſes are as Rational as Great. His Underſtanding is Clear. His Penetration is Boundleſs. His Reſolution is Ardent; and his Applications are Calm and Stedfaſt!

HE knows, and marks, the niceſt Difference between Dignity and Pride, Generoſity and Oſtentation; Condeſcenſion and Weakneſs!—He reconciles State with Eaſineſs; and teaches Reverence to Freedom! How Extenſive is his Wiſdom! How Unwearied his Induſtry! How Magnificent his Liberality! How Enlarg'd are his Idea's! How Unreſtrain'd [86] by Prejudice! How Unconfin'd to Party!—What Aſtoniſhment would it produce, in the Minds of ordinary Men, could a a Hiſtory be given the World, of the Immenſity of thoſe Princely Expences, which might be charg'd to his Humanity!—The Charity of the Common World would bluſh, and hide it ſelf at the Compariſon: For the Munificence of this prodigious Spirit, would ſwallow up all other Benignity, as the Enliven'd Rod of Moſes devour'd the Serpents of the Egyptians.

THESE are his Known and Publick Beauties! But, what Amiable Private Qualities muſt there be, in ſo exalted a Mind! which are hid from the diſtant World, and appear only to thoſe Few, thoſe very Few, of his Friends, who not alone are converſant with him; but have Souls ſympathetical enough to conceive the Glowings of his untold Purpoſes.

UNDER the Influence of ſuch a Power, what may not the Gentlemen, of the African Houſe expect, would they Reſolve upon ſuch Meaſures, as may ſuit the Glory of a Company, of whom it will be ſaid hereafter, as was once ſaid, of TYRE and SIDON, Whoſe Merchants were Princes, and whoſe Traders, The Nobles of the Earth!

The Plain Dealer. No 68.
FRIDAY, November 13. 1724.

[87]
Scribendi recte, ſapere eſt Principium, & Fons.
HOR.

THERE is no kind of Wit, which requires a livelier Force, or more comprehenſive Turn of Spirit, than That which we inſcribe on Monuments, to expreſs the Characters of the Dead: And I am ſorry I have Reaſon to obſerve, That almoſt every Church, in England, is a Witneſs of our Deficience in it.—The Fire of Fancy ſhould, on theſe Occaſions, be extreamly Intenſe, and Subtile, becauſe, wanting Continuity, it has all its Effect at a Flaſh; and can therefore have no Medium: It muſt be either piercing or contemptible.

WHEN I ſtand before the Tomb of Mr. Dryden, in Weſtminſter-Abbey, I am in Debate with my ſelf concerning that Delicacy of Veneration, which was the Cauſe of its being inſcrib'd with no more than his Immortal Name.—The Noble Founder thought it Superfluous to add any Thing, after that: [88] Becauſe there ſcarce lives a Reader, who can be unacquainted with his Character.—Yet, methinks, on the other Hand, the Expreſſion of a Decent Gratitude, may be held Due to a Benefactor, however rais'd above the Want, or Expectation of our Benevolence. And, to carry it yet farther, tho' no Profanation cou'd be more unpardonable, than the Product of a Vulgar Genius, on a Subject ſo exalted, there is, at leaſt, One Spirit, in the Nation, greatly Equal to the Labour! And This, the Founder of the Monument muſt have known, more certainly than any other Perſon, becauſe more nearly converſant with, and more ſufficiently a Judge of, him.

I WOU'D not, after this, ſay, I mean Mr. Pope, but that, in the Courſe of my Papers, I ſhall let him perceive, that I am no Flatterer.—I have wiſh'd to ſee His Soul do Honour to his Father's Duſt, and animate a Marble, which can never be more dignified, than it is, unleſs His own Remains ſhou'd viſit it!—When my Paſſions feel his Force, in Eloiſe's ſtruggling Conflicts, I attend him, thro' the Depths of Nature, with the Reverence which is due to God-like Wiſdom and Philoſophy! And, while my Fancy flames, and glitters, in the ſportive Vaſtneſs of his Levity, where Belinda's Hair attracts him, I am tranſported at his Wit, and Gaiety, and grow in Love with his Good Breeding! Yet, Five Parts in Six, I doubt, of all that Admiration which has been paid to theſe inimitable [89] Flights of Genius, is Implicite, and mere Accident: For there are Strokes, ſo fine and delicate, that like Angels, they muſt be inviſible to the Eyes of Common Mortals, and ſeen only by thoſe happy Few, whom Heaven vouchſafes a Viſit to!

I HAVE been ſhewn an EPITAPH lately, which is ſaid to have been written by this Gentleman, for the Tomb of a Friend of his: The Thought, on which it turns, is very happy, and extreamly Natural.—It has been publiſh'd, in ſome of our Weekly-Papers; but not ſo full as I here give it.

To this ſad Shrine, whoe're thou art, draw near,
Here lies the FRIEND, moſt wept, the SON moſt dear,
Who ne'er knew Joy, but Friendſhip might divide;
Nor gave his Father Grief—but, when he died!
How vain is Reaſon! Eloquence, how weak!
When POPE muſt tell, what HARCOURT cannot ſpeak!
Yet, Let thy once lov'd Friend inſcribe thy Stone:
And, with a Father's Sorrows, mix his own.
Ah, no! 'tis vain to ſtrive—It will not be.
No Grief, that can be told, is felt for THEE!

THE Manuſcripts, of this fine EPITAPH, which are handed about Town, have, already, various Readings: And in ſome, the two laſt Lines are wholly omitted. But, I can never ſuppoſe a Caſtration, of that Importance, Genuine; becauſe the Cloſe, at the firſt Break, has a Strength, ſo full, and diſtinguiſh'd, that [90] it left an abſolute Neceſſity, for a vigorous Turn of Thought, in the Concluſion of that which follows it: Whereas nothing could appear more languid, and unequal to its Author, than to have ended, after ſo fine a Stroke, with ſaying no more, than this: Let your Friend write your Epitaph; and tell the World, that he is as ſorry for your Death, as your Father is.

I HAVE not, I think, at home, read any Piece, of this Kind, more ſtriking, and ſtrongly rais'd upon the Force of its touching Simplicity! But I remember to have ſeen two Epitaphs, both, Foreign; which gave me a Delight, of the ſame Nature.—I ſhall tranſlate them, as near I can, into Engliſh. This, firſt, is by a French Poet, on the Death of Cardinal Richlieu: And has in it, a certain Mixture of the Great, the Natural, and the Surprizing, which is very rarely to be met with.

Stay, Traveller!—for, All you want, is near,
Wiſdom, and Power, I ſeek.—They, both, lie here.
Nay, but I look for more, and raiſe my Aim,
To Wit, Taſte, Learning, Elegance, and Fame.
Here ends your Journey, then: For, here, the STORE
Of RICHLIEƲ lies.—Alas! repeat no more.
Shame on my Pride! What Hope is left, for Me,
When, here, Death treads on All, that Man can be.

THE Second, which now follows, is of Spaniſh Original; and was the Epitaph [91] of a beautiful Neice of the Famous Olivarez.

If (weeping Love!) Inquirers ſeek to know
Her Name, whoſe Charms enrich the Duſt below;
Point up, and bid 'em read:—But, ſay no more:
Nor ſtrive, in vain, to count her Vertues o'er.
Scarce cou'd the ſweet Amount be juſtly ſung,
Tho' Her Each Atom were an Angel's Tongue!

WHERE there is Juſtneſs, and Propriety, in theſe Rays and Beamings of the Wit, they break out upon our Fancy, with irreſiſtable Force and Luſtre! We are often dazzled, for a Moment, even with the falſe Imitation of it, where the proper Sence is mingled, and confounded with the Metaphorical. But we no ſooner examine it, cloſely, than the Counterfeit Colours vaniſh, and we deſpiſe our own, and the Poet's Weakneſs: Whereas, when the Thought is juſt, as well as ſhining; when it is founded on Truth, in Nature, and only raiſes our Admiration by its Grandeur, Grace, and Nobleneſs, the Heat, contracted, and pointed ſtrong, upon a near, and ſingle, Center, inflames and catches, like a Burning Glaſs; and Stocks and Stones, are melted down by it, almoſt as ſuddenly as Gold and Silver.

IT were a Work of General Uſe, and no unpleaſant Entertainment, to make a Muſter of thoſe Falſe Thoughts, or affected Turns of Wit, and paſs 'em, in Review, [92] oppos'd to ſuch, as are True and Solid.—The Common Taſte would ſtand corrected, and conſent to give up their Favourites; for Few can want Good Senſe to diſtinguſh, when they ſee 'em together; and mark, that Truth, (which is Nature repreſented exactly as ſhe appears) is the Life and Soul, of Thinking; and Greatneſs, Delicacy, and Delightfulneſs, the fine Dreſs, and Ornaments, of it.

THE black Eyes of the Spaniſh Ladies, have a Jack-o'the-Lanthern Brightneſs, that is very apt to miſlead the Poets of that warm Country. The following Sonnet is a Maſterpiece, of its Kind, and may deſerve to ſtand as an Example of that Falſe Wit above-mention'd: As conſiſting, chiefly, of contradictory Idea's, which are forc'd together, like Oil, and Spirit, by the Violence of the Writer's Fancy; but ſeperate, and diſtinguiſh themſelves, as ſoon as they have Time to ſettle.

I know, too well, my cruel FAIR!
Why thoſe ſweet Eyes have Sable Covers,
Mere Pity bids 'em Mourning wear,
To grieve the Fate of murder'd Lovers.
Aſſiſt me, then, thou killing Maid!
I hate my Foe, and muſt defeat him:
Oh! lend me but thoſe Eyes, in Aid,
And He's Stone Dead, when next I meet him.

[93]BUT tho' ſuch Turns as Theſe are unnatural, and therefore ridiculous, when apply'd to any ſerious Purpoſe, yet there are Turns, both upon Words and Thoughts, that, preſerving the Truth of Meaning, are ſo far from being Faults, that in all the lighter Kinds of Poetry, they are extremely graceful and deſirable. Thus in the famous Epigram of Auſonius, relating to Dido, who fled from Phaenicia to Carthage, upon the Death of her Lover Sichaeus, and, afterwards, died her ſelf, upon Aeneas's forſaking her, the Thought is juſt and ſolid; and tho' it glitters, and is ſo full of Point, yet, it bears, without diminiſhing, every Light that it can be view'd in.—I will give both the Latin and the Engliſh, becauſe our Language has been judg'd incapable of expreſſing it, without more Compaſs, and Weakneſs, than the Original.

Infelix Dido, nulli bene nupta Marito!
Hoc pereunte fugis: Hoc fugiente peris.
Poor Queen! twice doom'd diſaſtr'ous Love to try;
You fly the Dying; for the Flying, die!

THERE is ſomething too, of an elevated Smartneſs, and that will bear the niceſt Examination, in the Thought of a French Poet, concerning a Cardinal, already nam'd; who was accus'd of holding too great an Aſcendant over his Maſter.

[94]
Il eſt trop abſolu, ſur l' Eſprit de ſon Maiſtre.
Mais ſon Maiſtre, per Luy, eſt le Maiſtre des Roy's.
Tho' he ſhadow'd his Maſter, with arrogant Wings,
Yet, he made, whom he maſter'd, the Maſter of Kings.

IT is this Power, in the Conception! This comprehenſive Graſp of Meaning! where more than can be expreſs'd, in Pages, is crowded into a ſingle Sentiment, and inſinuated to the Reader, ſo as to ſwell, and expand it ſelf, in his Underſtanding! It is This, that is True Poetry! That makes up that illuſtrious Art, which is therefore juſtly, call'd Divine, becauſe it ſhakes, and moulds the Soul, and bows to its Purpoſes; tranſports us out of our ſelves, and raiſes a Creation, round us, which is wholly of its own eſtabliſhing!

BUT how different from this, is Poetry, as it is commonly underſtood and practis'd!—A trifling Skill in Meaſure, and an eaſie Sweep in Rhyming, are no more what makes the Poet, than the Chimes can be call'd the Church, or the Chariot makes the Doctor. He, who thinks, in a vulgar Manner, will be ſo far from concealing his Emptineſs, by the Verſe, he pretends to charm by, that like the dirty Fool, in the Goſpel, who invited himſelf to the Marriage Feaſt, and ſat down, among the fineſt Gueſts, without a Wedding Garment, he will be put pointed out, with [95] the more Contempt; and ſerve to ſet off the vaſt Diſparity, between himſelf, and thoſe he preſumes to mix with.

WHOEVER does but reflect on the different Figure, France now makes among the Princes of Europe, compar'd with That, which every Body remembers Her to have made, within theſe Twenty Years, will, in Juſtice to a moſt Heroick Monarch, diveſt himſelf of the ungenerous Littleneſs of Common, National, Prejudices, and obſerve with Pleaſure, That Great Prince's Influence, over the Wit and Genius, as well as the Courage and Obedience of his People.—When I read the Birth-Day-Songs of our Engliſh Laureats, I ſee the Poorneſs of their Salary, thro' the Slightneſs of their Sentiments. But the moſt light, and jovial, Performances of our Neighbour Nation, when they had their King for their Theme, ſeem'd to glow, with a Warmth of Gratitude, as if Reaſon ſtrove with Invention, which ſhou'd praiſe him with moſt Copiouſneſs.

Qu'il regne ce Heros, qu'il triomphe toujours:
Qu'avec luy ſoit toujours la Paix, ou la Victoire!
Que le Cours de ſes Ans dure, autant, que le Cours
De la Seine, & de la Loire!
Qu'il vive, autant que ſa Gloire!
May our Hero long reign, and ſtill triumph in State!
And Conqueſt, or Peace, on his Purpoſes wait!
[96]Let the Courſe of his Years, like the Loire and the Seine,
Flow with Fullneſs and Strength, above Time's deepeſt Drain!
For, while bleſt with her King, what has France to implore,
But, that He may live, till his Fame lives no more!

I DESIGN'D, when I began this Paper, to ſay a great deal more, than I have left my ſelf Room for, concerning Epitaphs, and Elegies; but I muſt refer, what remains, to ſome other Opportunity: And will conclude, with one of the Sublimeſt Pieces of Extravagance, that ever heated the Imagination of of a Poet.—The Author was a Portugueſe, and, in deſcribing the Aſſault of a Fortreſs, by his Countrymen, ſpeaks of the Ditch, in a Flight, at once ſo wild, and yet ſo ſtrong, that it is impoſſible to find a Proof, more pregnant, that Genius without Judgment, can do nothing conſiderable, in Poetry.

The yawning Ditch declin'd, with dreadful ſteep,
And, from Days aking Eye, ſo backward fell:
That Saints might paſs, thro' its unſounded Deep,
To ſcare the Devils, and let in Light, on Hell!

The Plain Dealer. No 69.
MONDAY, November 16. 1724.

[97]
—dare Jura Maritis.
HOR.

PATTY AMBLE has many Friends, who will be glad to hear, That the COQUET is come to Town; after two whole Months Abſence. LOVE reviſits me, at the Approach of this wild Creature, like the Return of a Tertian Ague.—So, my Readers, in mere Pity, muſt be moderate, when they find me Dull. 'Tis a Rule among us, LOVERS, to be either ſtark Mad, or Stupid.—See! what an unaccountable Letter the pert Baggage has ſent me!

Dear SLAVY!

AT laſt, this ſweet Town, which muſt for ever hold my Heart, has again Poſſeſſion of my Perſon.—I left Tunbridge, a Hundred Years ago; and went a Pilgrimage, in pure Compaſſion, to viſit a poor Thing, in Marriage Trammels: Where I have ſtuck faſt, ever ſince, in the Dirt of your Dear Suſſex.

[98] WELL! tho' I have but half forgiven you, for ſetting That breathing Whirligig, Ned Volatile, upon me; yet, I think, I am as much in Love with You, as with any of your Rival Candidates for the Place I have to diſpoſe of.—But, if ever I marry you, there is One Thing, I muſt poſitively inſiſt on.—You ſhall keep me two Chairs, and a Chariot.—I had ſcarce a Scruple of Brains, in my Head, all laſt Week: For, after rumbling up, in a Stage-Coach, I was pounded to Death, from the dreadful Borough, to Park-Place, in an odious Hackney Mortar.—You have Hiſtory, I know, at your Finger's Ends: Pray ſend me the Name of that Tragical Roman Tumbler, who was barrell'd up, by the Carthaginians; and roll'd, a Mile or two, down Hill, in a Butt, ſtuck full of Ten-penny-Nails? Methinks, I pity him, from my Heart! For, I could not help thinking, while I was bouncing up and down, in my Vehicle, like a Thimble full of Shot, in a Quart Bottle, That my own Caſe was as bad as His. At leaſt, if there was any Difference, it lay only in a few Points, which I had rather give up, than ſtand upon.

HEAVEN have Mercy on thoſe poor Citizens Wives, who, when their hideous Bedfellows have made them too big, to be able to go, are forc'd to be carried, in theſe Town Tumbrels.—'Tis well I was not choſe for a Knight of the Shire, at our laſt [99] Election! The Rogues, who contriv'd theſe Bolting Hutches, to ſift Peoples Bones thro their Skins, ſhou'd never have eſcap'd Puniſhment, for want of a Law, to reach them: I would have got an ACT paſſed, on purpoſe, to have the Monſters gallop'd to Death, in their own unmerciful Torturing Boxes.

COME, and drink TEA with me Tomorrow. I know you don't love to be look'd at: And to humour that very out-o'the-way Taſte, of yours, we will be as Retir'd, as two Snails in a Wilderneſs. For, I have reſolv'd to be at Home to No-body, but Jenny Ogle, and Gatty Goſling, and dear Lady Frightall, and Miſs Jumper, and Jack Scarecrow; and Jack, you know, is Nobody:Jack is like one of the Family. Only if Sally Simple ſhould chance to drop in—or Fanny Prue, in her new Equipage, there is no being denied to Them: For the whole Town ſays, That Sally has had a Misfortune, ſince I went to Tunbridge: And Fanny is a Prude, that has ſtoop'd as low as Matrimony.—I long to ſee how they look, after the Accidents that have befallen them.—Don't, fail at your Peril, for we want your Sage Advice, about a Project, that is newly come into our Heads; and I ſhall never be at Reſt, 'till I know, what you think of it.

THE Buſineſs, in one Word, is Freedom: WOMAN's Freedom.—For, ſure! if Men, who are born to be Subjects, pretend [100] to Liberty, and defie Tyrants; our Sex muſt have high Pretenſions; who, by Nature, were form'd for Sovereignty; and can make Slaves of thoſe, who enſlave Millions!—In ſhort, we are come to a Reſolution to iſſue Writs, and call together a Female Parliament.—You allow, that we have Wit;—We, our ſelves, know we have Wiſdom: And every Body has Reaſon to know, that we can't want Authority.—So, the Thing it ſelf is paſt Diſpute; we have decreed, to take Government upon us: But the Queſtion is, Under what Name, or Title, we ſhall exerciſe it.

WE are told, by an Experienc'd Siſter, who is ſole, Chamber Counſel, to an Eminent Counſellor, at Law, that the Word Parliament will be too Bold and Ardent for our Purpoſe. And yet if another of our Members, who is Learned in Law French, be but as good at Derivation, as ſhe has always been at Diſputation, She will have Parliament to ſignifie Prattlement; and in that Caſe, who doubts, but we might make good our Pretenſions.

HOWEVER, let it go. We aim at Nothing, but our juſt Prerogative; nor have any Deſign, in the leaſt, againſt the Privileges of the other Houſes; whoſe Members, for any Thing I ſee to the contrary, may be as Capable as We are.

[101]YET, it were certainly no harder upon the Men, That the Women ſhould uſurp their Offices, than it is mortifying to us Women, to ſee the Men interpoſe, in Ours. And, what Truth can be more manifeſt, than, That there are Male-Members, of more Houſes than One, ungallant enough to invade us, in our very Eſſentials?—Some can Dance, as well as we can; ſome (tho' Fewer indeed) can even talk, as well.—Here, and there, one can manage a Family, as well.—But an infinite Number of them can waſh their Months, as well; and vye Genius with us, in Dreſs, and Diverſion.—Nay, I am credibly inform'd, by an Able Committee-Woman, of our Aſſembly, That ſhe is intimate with two of them, who are ſo far gone, againſt us, that the firſt makes Shifts, and Aprons, with the fineſt Work-woman of his Acquaintance: And the other can cut Paper, the beſt of any Gentlewoman in the three Kingdoms!

IF ſuch Wrongs as theſe muſt be tolerated, away with Order and Diſtinction.—Shall any Body, after this, ſay, we ought not to aſſume a Title, becauſe the Nation has, already beſtow'd it on Our Repreſentatives? What were the Nation, without Us? And how are WE Repreſented, where none of our Sex are permitted to ſit, and vote, for Us? Is this Free Government? Is this to be ſubject to no Laws, but thoſe we have, firſt, given Cnſent to?—Either, [102] let us, as a diſtinct Body, have a Right to govern our Selves; or, admit an Equal Number of Us to ſit, where Laws are made for Us: And, I believe I may venture to undertake, for the Abſent, That we will be modeſt enough, in that Caſe, to content our ſelves with a bare Negative, upon All Bills, that concern Us.

BUT, what ſhall we do, about this Difficulty, of the Name? Old Lady Lofty was for having us dignifie our Purpoſe with the awful Sound of The SENATE: But, her Grand-Daughter, who can read Horace in Latin, ſaid, That Title had an Air, too Motherly, and would ſit hard, upon Youth, and Gaiety.—It was next mov'd, That a Commitee of Virgin Elders ſhou'd be ſent, as far as Poland, to borrow and bring Home, the Uſe of the Word DIET.—Kitty Hoyden leapt out of our her Chair, to ſecond this Motion.—She had been inform'd, ſhe ſaid, That Poliſh Diets are often ſummon'd to meet, on Horſeback; and ſhe was poſitive, That no People could ride, more Learnedly, than the Horſe-women of our Country. She added, That little more ſeem'd peculiar, to theſe Poliſh Diets, unleſs it were their Art, of Quarrelling, without Interval: And, in that too, ſhe ſaw no Reaſon, why an Engliſh Woman might not equal them.

IT was now in a fair Way to be carried on this ſide the Queſtion; when Suky Shadely [103] who is newly recover'd from the Jaundice, turn'd the Tyde of Opinions, by crying out, That ſhe proteſted againſt the Phyſical Sound of the Word; for it put her in Mind of her Apothecary.—What at laſt, we all inclin'd to, was the Turkiſh Title, of DIVAN. I think, CONVENTION was whiſper'd, faintly; but none of us knew what to make of it: And as for CONVOCATION it was unanimouſly rejected, upon the Inſinuation of a grave Arch-Deaconeſs, That it would be inconvenient to aſſume known Titles, which under Pretence of Cuſtom and Precedent, might reduce us to Subordination; and bring us to feel ſome Power, we ſhould not dare to diſobey, and yet be heartily vex'd, at ſubmitting to.

DEAR SLAVY, don't look grim; but think for us, and help us out, as you wiſh well to your Speculations.—Come, for your Conſideration, beforehand, I will communicate to you the Material Heads, upon which we meditate our Inſtitution; as they were drawn up for us, by a Sergeant's Lady, who has often made it a Moot Point, whether Her Stile, or Her Husband's is moſt Remarkable for Conciſeneſs.

Firſt, THEN, For avoiding Diſputes and Conteſts, with certain Courts, already Eſtabliſhed, we renounce, diſcharge, and hereby openly diſavow, and proteſt againſt all Claim and Pretence, whatever, to Deciſions, of Juſtice, or of Equity.

[104] Secondly, WE forego, quit claim to, and depart from, in like manner, all Exerciſe, Right, Benefit, Intereſt, Property, and Demand, of, in, from, to, or upon, Subjects, Religious or Eccleſiaſtical. PROVIDED NEVERTHELESS, That Nothing, in the Article contain'd, ſhall extend, or be conſtrued to extend, to deprive us of our Claim, and Privilege, to hold, and avow, Juriſdiction, as well Corporal as Spiritual, over All Forms, Matters and Things, which have related, do relate, or ſhall or may relate hereafter, to Virgin Frailties, Slips, Elopements, or any other Female Privilege, or Privileges, whether Maidenly or Matrimonial.

Thirdly, THAT all Cauſes, Debates, Laws, Doubts or Cuſtoms, touching, concerning, importing, appendant, or relating to Love, Honour, Dreſs, Duty, Wit, Breeding, and Domeſtick Authority and Diſcipline, in all its Parts, Degrees, and Diviſions, ſhall lye, in their laſt Appeal, before US and US ONLY.

Fourthly, THAT All and Every the Members of our Aſſembly ſhall have, hold, take, occupy, exerciſe, and enjoy the ſame Exemptions, Freedoms, Perſonal Rights, Diſtinctions and Peculiarities, which have at any Time been occupied, or enjoy'd, by any the Member, or Members, of whatſoever other Aſſembly, of, in, or belonging to theſe Kingdoms. And in particular, that All and Every their Perſon, or Perſons, ſhall be, and for ever remain, free from all Arreſts, [105] Touch, Seizure, Detainment, Reſtraint, or Attachment, whether by Father, Husband, Guardian, or by, or under, any other Authority, or pretended Authority, whatſoever. Any Law, Act, Grant, Matter, or Thing, to the contrary, in any wiſe, notwithſtanding.

Fifthly, THAT for the ſurer Diſpatch of Buſineſs, under the Multiplicity of Debates, that may, and queſtionleſs, ſhall and will ariſe, in ſo able, and ſo numerous an Aſſembly, the Houſe ſhall chuſe SIX SPEAKERS (of whom, however, no more than Three ſhall ſpeak at once) that ſo there may be, at all Times a Reſerve, for due Succeſſion; in Caſe of One Sett's wholly tiring, under ſuch inceſſant Application.

Sixthly, THAT the Firſt Seſſion ſhall be held, in the Great Maſquerade Room, at the Opera Houſe, in the Hay-Market; where All the Voices of that Houſe, whether Women, or Other than Women, ſhall be admitted to ſit with the Members. But no abſolute Men ſhall be capable of holding Office, within Doors, SAVE ONLY our Truſty, and Well-beloved John James Heidegger, whom in Regard to his Good Will, and Paſt Services, we conſtitute ſole Bearer of our Mace, and of all other, our convenient Utenſils.

THESE are all our determin'd Articles: But it was as good as Reſolved, at our laſt [106] Meeting, That for the Safety of our Aſſembly, proper Application ſhall be made, for a Company of Guards, to mount upon us, and continue to do Duty, as long as ever we ſit. The Officers of this Company, as high up, as the Lieutenant, may, as uſually they are, be of the Maſculine Gender: But the Captain muſt, always, be a Woman.—If the Lieutenant happens to be Married, his Wife will Command of Courſe. But if not, the Nomination will be by Majority of the Members Voices.

YOU ſee, now, Dear Servant, the Great Importance of this Affair: And ſince I am ſure, your Head is ſtor'd, with Models, Schemes and Syſtems, concerning Power, and Rights of Government, drawn from Latin, Greek and Gothick; nay, and for any thing I know, from Arabick, and Egyptian: Do but aid our generous Purpoſe, with your Experience, and grave Counſel, and you ſhall ſee, as ſoon as we are married, with how much Gentleneſs I will hold the Reins, which your Wiſdom will have contributed to put into the Hands of,—I was going to ſay your Affectionate; but, in ſober Sadneſs, of

Your oblig'd, and not inſenſible, Humble Servant, MARTHA AMBLE.

The Plain Dealer. No 70.
FRIDAY, November 20. 1724.

[107]
Quicquid praecipies, eſto brevis: Ut citò dicta
Percipiant animi dociles, teneantque fideles.
Omne ſupervacuum pleno de pectore manat.
HOR.

WHEN I was Young, I remember, among many other Follies, I was very vain, and tenacious of my own Way of Thinking. I was particularly delighted with the Notion I then had of Eloquence: And made no Manner, of Diſpute, but I was, my ſelf, a wonderful Proficient in it. I was raviſh'd, with the flowing Swell of a long-winded Period. I had form'd my Taſte of Stile, upon Cicero; and treated the Commentaries of Caeſar with an Extraordinary Air of Contempt, when I compar'd them with the moſt frothy Flouriſhes of That ever-abounding Orator.

I HAD not learnt to conſider, That there is a Difference, in the Effect of the ſame Words, when they are ſpoke, and when they are written.—When we ſee, and hear, a powerful Orator, our Reaſon is betray'd, and [108] dazzled, by the Interpoſition of our Senſes.—The Grace, and Majeſty, of his Perſon; The never-reſting Variety of his Motion; The Aptneſs of his Looks, and Geſture; The Riſe and Fall of his Voice, inſinuating, ſoftening, accuſing, repeating, urging, impreſſing, and enforcing, with a Gradation of the ſtrongeſt Paſſions: All theſe combine, to charm, and cheat, us, into Admiration.—But, when, diveſted of theſe Prejudices, we come to read, with a ſteady Judgment, what we heard, with ſo much Emotion, the cold, and languid, Oratory, depending now on Senſe, and wanting all its Aid of Emphaſis, and Utterance, lies taſteleſs on our Underſtanding; and Repetition, and Change of Lights, are found to fill up the Place of Richneſs, and Variety in the Conception.

ONE of the firſt, who made me bold enough to break out of my Roman Bondage, and reſolve, for the future, to think, all Words, which give a Diſcourſe no Progreſs in its Meaning, rather Burdens, than Embroidery, was Montaigne, where he is ſpeaking of Authors.

AS to Cicero, ſays this free-ſpirited Frenchman, to confeſs the Truth frankly, His way of Writing appears to me very tedious. His Prefaces, Definitions, Diviſions, and Etimologies, take up the greateſt Part of his Work. There is Life indeed, and noble Life! but it is ſmother'd in the dreſſing. When I have ſpent an Hour, in reading him, I recollect [109] what Subſtance I have gather'd from him; and find, for the moſt Part, I have got nothing but Wind: He is not, yet, come far enough, to be Enter'd upon his Reaſons.—Now, for Me, who only deſire to be Wiſe, not Eloquent, I wou'd read nothing, but what is to the Purpoſe.—I know well enough, without being told, What is meant, by Death and Pleaſure: Why then do they give themſelves the Trouble of Anatomiſing them? I am for Reaſon, and Argument, at the firſt Daſh, and wou'd be inſtructed how to withſtand, rather than talk quaintly of, my Paſſions. I am for Charging at once, into the Heart of the Doubt, and not Approaching it, by Way of Siege, with Logical Lines, and Trenches.—The Subjects of Cicero languiſh, by his Delaying our Expectation. His Way was very well for the Bar,; or might do, perhaps, for the Pulpit; and ſince 'tis ſo common to Nod, at a Sermon, Men, in this Caſe, might have Leiſure to take a Nap, and wake, a Quarter of an Hour after, Time enough to find the Thread of the Diſcourſe. Men may ſpeak, in this Manner to Children, or to ignorant People: But I can never be made Attentive, by an Author's Elocution, where his Matter is too weak to hold me.

BEFORE I had the Cood Fortune to meet with this Cenſure, (which carries with it no more Boldneſs, than Reaſon) I had ventur'd to appear, in Print, and ſent ſome Treatiſes into the World, which I have never thought [110] of, from that Time forward, without bluſhing at my Conſcious Weakneſs, in the Affectation of a Stile, ſo Wordy, that it moves my own Indignation, very ſtrongly, againſt my ſelf, for what I have, formerly conſider'd, as no ſmall Part of my Merit.

IF my own Works were of Importance enough, I wou'd light 'em up, as a Beacon, to warn Others of the Danger: But, ſince That Honour is more than they deſerve, I diſclaim it, with due Modeſty; and will borrow an Example, of like Nature, from an Author of more Dignity.

THE Gentleman, I mean, is a Reverend and Learned Profeſſor: In whoſe Preface, to an excellent Tranſlation of Virgil, we are told, after, at leaſt, as much Inſtruction, as cou'd, reaſonably, have been expected, That He has, not, yet done with us: For ſomething, more, ſtill, remains, behind.

NOW, tho' much may be ſaid, for this Gentleman's Generoſity, from the Profuſion of his Deſire to ſatisfy us; yet a leſs Degree of Praiſe will be ſufficient, for his Diſcretion: Since it was not kind enough to whiſper in his Ear, that He, who tells us the ſame Thing, Six Times over, will rather provoke us to Indignation than to Gratitude; becauſe it argues an Opinion in him, That he is talking to Perſons, who have a Deafneſs, in their Underſtanding.—When he had aſſur'd us, He had not yet done, There cou'd be no Reaſon in the World, but the over-obliging Liberality [111] of his Rhetorick, to take the Trouble of adding, that There was ſomething more: Much leſs, That there was ſomething more, ſtill!—But, when he goes on, with ſo unhop'd! ſo unexpected! a Flow of Bounty, as to add, That there was ſomething, more, ſtill, that remain'd, The Obligation was enforc'd to ſo ſurprizing a Height, that it muſt have been judg'd Impoſſible to raiſe it more, if we had not found, immediately after, That not only ſomething, more, ſtill, remain'd, but, that it remain'd, behind, alſo!

I COU'D wiſh to ſee it eſtabliſh'd, as a Rule among Writers, That every Word ſhould be a Fault, which, being taken out of a Diſcourſe, left no Void in the Senſe: For, to what End ſhou'd we uſe Expreſſions, which may be cut off, without Maiming, or let ſtand, without Beauty?

WHEN the Pen of One, who attempts to write Hiſtory, happens to be thus, dropſically, diſpoſed, He never fails to drown his Facts, in a Deluge of Affectation.—We have then, long Speeches of great Generals, made to their Armies, in Line of Battle, and juſt on the Point of Engagement; In which the monſtrous Abſurdity of ſuppoſing ſuch a Time fit for formal Harangues, or that they could be Audible to the Hundredth Part of the Numbers they are addreſs'd to, is not ſufficient to deter theſe Orators from diſplaying all their Tropes, with ſo much Fullneſs and Variety, that, when the Armies come to [112] Charge, the Hiſtorian has not Spirits enough left him, (after the Fatigue of his War of Eloquence) to obſerve, or explain to us, How the Battle, it ſelf, was formed, and fought; or by what Conduct, on one ſide, or Miſtake, on the other, The Fortune of the Day delcared in Favour of the Victorious.

TACITUS, of all Hiſtorians, was leaſt guilty of uſing Wordineſs, or Circumlocution, in his Relations.—On the contrary, when he errs, it is in the much nobler Extream, of too Rich, and Delicate an Exceſs of Senſe.—He refines not on Words, but on Things; he ſpeaks leſs for his Great Perſons, than They ſpoke, for Themſelves: But he thinks for them much more delicately than it is probable They ever thought.—When Galgacus, at the Head of his Britons, is about to charge the Roman Army, what Number of Eloquent Pages could have inſpired his Followers with Reflections, more apt to inflame them with Heroick Sentiments, than what He flaſh'd upon their Imaginations, in this comprehenſive Encouragement.—Fall on, my Friends, and, in the Shock, think of your ANCESTORS, and your POSTERITY!

ANTIQUITY can ſcarce produce an Inſtance of more perſwaſive Eloquence, than This Oration, in a ſingle Sentence!—But I have the Pleaſure to ſee, before me, the Speech of a Modern Leader, which, as it had an End very different, ſo its Influence was [113] much more powerful.—Caeſar, and many Generals, before, and after him, inſpired faint-hearted Followers, with Courage: But This is the only Inſtance, I have ever met with, of a Commander, who had Rhetorick enough to talk Brave Fellows, into Cowardice.

THE Hero of our Story (which is, ſincerely, a true one) was at his Studies, in One of the Univerſities of a Neighbour-Nation, when the late Rebellion broke out, and allarmed the Care of the Government. He was Young, and deſigned for a Pillar of his Mother Kirk.—Grace and Sanctity, had therefore, been more in his Thoughts, than Arms, and Slaughter: But ſome of his Friends, who claimed a Power in raiſing, and diſpoſing, the Militia, took a Fancy to dignify the young Kirkman, with the Command of a Company, and gave him Orders to march them to a Rendezvous, that was appointed, a few Days after.

THE New Captain (as He tells the Story, Himſelf, with a great Deal of Humour, and Frankneſs) thought Safety more his Buſineſs than Valour: Yet was aſhamed to appear Fearful, when Every Body, round him, looked as big, as a Bajazet.—He reſolved, therefore, To have Recourſe to his Oratory, and try, if it was not poſſible, under Pretence of Encouraging his Men, to frighten them into Deſertion.—In Purſuance of this Hope, He drew them on the Morning appointed for the March, into a Ring, at the Foot of a little [114] Mount; and, placing himſelf on the Top of it, addreſſed them in the following Oration; which he gave me, in his own Hand-Writing:

Friends! Brethren! Country-Men!

WE are marching againſt Enemies, who are marching, againſt God: For they fight againſt our King; and our King protects our Kirk: and our Kirk is the Care of God.—So, our Enemies are God's Enemies, and our Cauſe muſt prevail againſt them.

AS an Officer of Command, and a Leader, who knows No Fear, It is my Duty to ſpeak to You, in a Stile, that may inflame your Courage.—But, as I am a Chriſtian, as well as a Soldier;—A Man of Humanity, as well as Mettle; I dare not conceal from You, That there is a Danger, which I, my ſelf, am afraid of; I, who, to ſpeak in the World's Notion of Fear, am ſo reſolv'd, that I can fear Nothing.—I mean, my Fellow Soldiers! The Danger, which ſome of your Dear Souls may be in, of ruſhing Headlong upon Damnation.

IN all Probability, there will be an Immediate Engagement;—I am confident, we ſhall (I mean, All, who ſurvive the Battle, ſhall) ſuceed in the Event.—But, alas! which of us knows, whoſe Lot it will be, to Fall, in the Field of Slaughter? And, ſince there is Odds againſt your Lives, Are Ye prepar'd for approaching Death?[115] It is, indeed, an unſeaſonable; but, ah! my Friends! It is a neceſſary Queſtion.—Are ye prepar'd, I ſay, to die?—Have ye Aſſurance of Salvation?

I acknowledge, That your Piety, your Loyalty, and your Bravery, may intitle you to Hopes of Glory: But, if you want the Inward Token, the Aſſurance, the Teſtimony!—If you are not poſitive, my Friends, Ye are DOUBTERS: And He who doubteth, (ſays Holy Writ) is Damn'd.)—Mark That, Brethren!—He, who doubteth, is damn'd!

AH weigh this important Queſtion, before I lead you a Step farther. Knock, at your Boſoms. Ask your Conſciences, If ye are Doubters? And, if ye find, ye are Upright, and Stedfaſt,—If ye have clear, and unqueſtioned, Evidence:—If your Lives have been Pure; and your Bodies Undefiled.—Your Credentials for Heaven, are Good;—and ye may follow me, undauntedly;—for ‘Nildeſperandum eſt Teucro Duce, & Auſpice Teucro,’ (That is, (being interpreted) ‘King GEORGE for Ever. Amen.

BUT, If you doubt, If ye Faint, If your Inward Man is not Strong,—I deſire none none of your fruitleſs Aid.—I ſhall be more Triumphant without Ye. Neither [116] would I have your Blood upon my Head; ſince, if ye die, you will be damn'd.—But my Chriſtian Concern for your Souls, hath made me forget that ye are Soldiers.—I come down, to put my ſelf before you, and let you ſee, by my Example, in the horrid Bloodineſſes of this Day, What an Aſſurance there is in the Accepted, when they fight againſt the Doubtful.—I leave the Reſt to your Conſciences. They, who doubt not, will follow me.

N. B.—They ran away, to a Man, from behind their Commander!—What an Inſtance was here, of the powerful Effect of Oratory!

The Plain Dealer. No 71.
MONDAY, November 23. 1724.

—furens quid Foemina poſſit.
VIRG.
Mr. PLAIN DEALER,

I COMMENCED TOAST, about the Beginning of Laſt Seaſon; and among ſome Six Dozen of Lovers, (who could, All, ſee, as clearly as any Old Cynick, in [117] England) I never heard it obſerv'd, That Black Eyes were Jack o' Lanthorns, 'till I read it, in your PAPER, Number lxviii.—I muſt needs tell you, I don't like ſome Things, in That PAPER: And, in Particular I make War againſt your odious Partiality, in preferring a Muſty Jyngle, of and old Cardinal, and Queen DIDO, to one of the prettieſt, and wittieſt, Copies of Verſes, that ever was ſeen or heard of!

WOU'D, I knew where to find That Dear! Genteel! Gay! Spritely! Charming! Spaniſh POET, who was Author of the Verſes, to which you have done the Honour of finding Fault with them, for no Reaſon in the World, but becauſe they were made upon Black Eyes!—I can't help fancying, That you have, not only Grey Hair, but White Eye-brows, with a Whey-coloured, Fat Face; and a ſower, freckly Forehead, with a pale, deadiſh, Look, as limy, and as wall-ey'd, as one of the Watch-Towers of your own Barbican!—Never go about to deny it;—for I am as ſure, that it is ſo, as if I had been acquainted with you theſe Sixty Years. And I will never believe to the contrary, unleſs you get ſome Body to draw your Picture, after the Life, and have it Cut upon a Copper-Plate, to hang up like a Sign, at the Head of your PLAIN DEALERS, for the Entertainment of your Female Readers, in Place of your impertinent Motto's.

[118]
I know, too well, my cruel Fair
Why thoſe Sweet Eyes have Sable Covers
Mere Pity bids 'em Mourning wear,
To grieve the Fate of Murder'd Lovers.

WELL-BRED! Tranſporting, Creature!—What Woman cou'd look with Frowns, upon a Lover, that could lay her Eyes under ſuch delightful Obigation!

Pity, bids 'em Mourning wear!
To grieve the Fate of Murder'd Lovers!

CALL you This, FALSE WIT?—I had always an Averſion to a Critick, from my Cradle: But from this Time forward, I ſhall never endure the Name of him: And, if ever I ſhould ſo loſe my Way, as to fall into the Company of one of them, my Eyes would ake, at the very Sight of them.

MY Grandmother, at her Country-houſe, has an overgrown, old Turkey Cock, that is the Plain Dealer, of the Family.—He could never abide Red, becauſe it is the prettieſt of all Colours; and therefore I bought me a Pink-colour Damask Suit, and carried it down, with me, on purpoſe to ſhake in the old Gentleman's Eyes, and ſet him a fretting, by Way of Diverſion.—I have ſearch'd, the whole Town over, for an Opportunity to deal with You, as I did your Brother SURLY, in the [119] Country: And, at laſt, I met with the enclos'd Copy of Verſes, at an ASSEMBLY, where Eyes of all Colours, Black, Blue, Grey and Hazel;—Nay, even the Green and the Yellow, agreed to ſmile, with Approbation, on the Wit, and the Subject. And, becauſe I would mortifie you, I ſend you, What others have been charm'd by: And as far as all good Offices, of this kind, ſhall remain, very heartily,

Your Humble Servant, NIGRELLA.
VERSES, To the Right Honourable, The Lady SOMERVILLE, on Her MARRIAGE.
WHEN Themes, unlov'd, invoke an abſent Muſe,
The unliſt'ning Siſters Half their Aid refuſe:
But, with full Force, the Vot'arie's Hopes inſpire,
Whoſe Breaſt glows, conſcious, with a favo'rite Fire.
Oft, have I prov'd, that, when looſe Flights we try,
From our weak Wing, the ſweet Supporters fly:
The reſtive Numbers backen, on the Tongue,
And no bold Fancy nerves the languid Song.
Not ſo, when ſofter Subjects court their Aid;
Some new-bleſs'd Lover, or ſome brided Maid!
Then, All, at once, their tuneful Force combine;
Swell, in Each Thought; and, in each Cadence, ſhine.
The Stream of Verſe, like Thames, untroubled flows;
And Strength, and Eaſe, a mingled Grace compoſe.
[120]
Devious, of late, amid too light a Strain,
Each, of the Adverſe Nine, was ſought, in vain:
But, ſoon as FAME reliev'd me, with the Sound,
That SOMERVILLE in YOU, His Heaven had found;
Rap't, I reſolv'd, th' inſpiring Choice to ſing;
And Crowding Muſes danc'd, on Ev'ry String!
Receive, Illuſtrious Charmer! the Reſpect
Your Poet pays; and, what He writes, protect.
While Others, Cold, and Formal, Zeal diſplay,
And wiſh you Joy, the dull, Proſaick, Way;
Diſtinguiſh'd, from the Reſt, The Poet's Prayer
Viſits, in Verſe,—and hails, with livelier Air.
Reign, Wedded Love! on Reaſon, founded, ſtrong:
Thou Source of Kindred! and Thou Soul of Song!
In Thee, the Lover meets no treach'rous Smile:
No faithleſs Snares his manag'd Heart beguile!
What, tho' to One, Thou do'ſt Deſire confine?
Thy Bounds are EDEN, a Reſtraint, Divine!
Sweetly aſſociate, He ſuſtains no Care,
That She diſarms not, by Her Wiſh, to ſhare.
Her Joys are heighten'd, by the Part, He bears;
And All Her Words are Muſick, to His Ears.
Daſh'd, on Life's Ocean, when the breaking Waves
Riſe, over One, Th' aſſiſting Conſort ſaves:
'Till Each, at Anchor, 'midſt the Tempeſt, rides;
Nor dreads the Surges, nor obeys the Tides,
How greatly bleſt, muſt This bright Ʋnion be,
Where BODIES Emulate, and SOULS Agree!
Pride, of the blooming World!—Your Eyes, and Air,
Have wearied Wonder, and awak'd Deſpair!
[121] Your Form ſeems made, to match your Heav'nly Mind;
And, while, on Earth, to leave all Earth behind!
His Soul ſhines thro', and animates his Face,
With Angel's Sweetneſs, ſoft'ning Manly Grace.
His warring Race have triumph'd, oft, before:
But HE, in Conqu'ring You, has triumph'd more!
May lengthen'd Life your meeting Wiſhes Crown;
And riſing Ages ſpread your wreath'd Renown!
May no firſt Death your ſocial Hearts divide;
But, late, together, be This Knot unty'd!

RESERVING, 'till another Opportunity, What I have to ſay, againſt NIGRELLA's Eyes, and her Pink-colour Damask Petticoat, I ſhall ſatisfie my ſelf, (for preſent Vengeance) with admiring, as much as ſhe does, the Verſes, which ſhe ſent, to mortifie me.—How will ſhe be able to ſupport this Diſappointment?—Nay, to nettle her ſtill further, I admire, very much, too, the Lady, on whom the Verſes were made; and I have even heard it affirm'd, by as many Men, as there are Lines, in the Poem, That NIGRELLA's Eyes are no more to be compar'd with that Lady's, than Her Spaniſh Poet's Verſes are as Good as This Gentleman's.

BUT, becauſe I would not be behind-hand with NIGRELLA, in a Readineſs to oblige, I will, in Return for her Entertaining me, at ſo agreeable a Wedding, invite Her to a Funeral, which we owe to the ſame Hand.—She may come, without new-dreſſing her [122] Eyes, ſince they wear Mounring, already.—But, (which will go very hard, with a Lady of ſo lively a Temper!) She muſt lay aſide Her Favourite Pink Colour, and ſet her Face, to look ſadly.

TO cloſe, in a more ſerious Strain,—The following Verſes, and the foregoing, are the Work of a North-Britiſh Muſe, and have, for their Author, the young Gentleman, who writ the ODE, On the Power of Muſick.—It will be needleſs to point out to the Reader, The unuſual Excellence of theſe Two Peices. They both abound with the True, and Sublime, Poetick Spirit! And the Subjects are ſo diametrically Oppoſite, to Each other, That to place them, thus, together, will furniſh a ſtriking Contraſte of Beauties, in the moſt Joyful, and the moſt Melancholly, of all Humane Circumſtances!

VERSES, Occaſioned by the DEATH of the Right Honourable, The Counteſs of GRANTHAM.
PARDON, O Shade Divine! th' officious Verſe,
That breaks the ſacred Silence of thy Herſe!
The Muſe's Tears, when for the Dead deſign'd,
Flow but in vain, Impertinently kind!
Courtiers, and Poets, mix not, oft, in Care,
Their Paſſions, and their Views, too diff'rent are!
But, to this mourn'd Occaſion, All muſt owe
One ſocial Utt'rance, of one, Gen'ral Woe.
So, ſhall the diſtant Poles one Ruin ſhare,
When the Laſt Trumpet wakes the World's Deſpair.
[123]
Oh! treach'rous Ebb of Joy! that, thus, deceives,
And Hope's gay Bark on ſudden Quickſands leaves!
The Smile of Lovelineſs lies, pale, in Clay;
And weeping Wonder turns its Eyes away!
Trembling, the Muſe ſurveys the clouded Courts!
How damp'd their Converſe! and how daſh'd, their Sports!
What gloomy Paleneſs deadens Every Face
What ſick'ning Mem'ry checks each riſing Grace!
The ROYAL PAIR ſtand, fix'd, in gen'rous Pain:
And look a Grief, that makes all Language vain!
Round, in deep Silence, ſad'ning Paſſions flow:
And Sighs, from Sighs, catch the contagious Woe!
Fancy, amidſt the Fun'ral Pomp is led,
And waits, in ſolemn March, the Moving Dead;
Lodg'd, in cold Earth, Her Body ſinks, reſign'd:
But Her Immortal Image charms Mankind!
Soft ſleep, Thy Duſt, to wait the Eternal Will;
Then, riſe, unchang'd, and,—Be an Angel, ſtill!
Ye, Lovelieſt, of Her fair Survivors! Come,
And, with ſweet Sorrow, grace her ſacred Tomb.
Fix'd, o'er the Marble Mirror, leaning, ſee,
What Weak Defence, from Death, your Charms can be!
Think, what She was; and, conſcious of Her Due,
Teach us, by mourning Her, to ſigh, for You.
But, What wiſh'd Comfort ſhall the Muſe afford,
To the ſad Boſom of Her Widdow'd Lord?
Think,—ſince not all your Love could Life retain,
How ſhou'd your Sorrow charm her back again?
High, above Hope, or Fear, ſhe, now, lives, bleſt:
Where Nothing, but Your Woe can break Her Reſt.
O, let her, undiſturb'd, thoſe Bleſſings ſhare,
Which cannot Greater be,—'till You are there.

The Plain Dealer. No 72.
FRIDAY, November 27. 1724.

[124]
Mens immota manet.—
VIRG.

AMONG the Beauties of Magnanimity, there is none, of a nobler Quality, than the Power of forgiving Injuries.—It throws a Majeſty over the Mind, and illuſtrates the Perſon, with an Air of Sweetneſs, and Serenity.—We ought the more to admire it, ſince, where-ever it is found, It is in Company with the Sublimeſt Virtues: There not being Room for it, in a narrow, vulgar, Soul; becauſe, overfill'd with Little Sentiments, ſuch as have their Riſe, and Revolution, within the Circle of Self-Intereſt.

BUT the Brutal Paſſion of REVENGE, and a malicious Memory, for Miſchief, is become ſo Shameleſs, and Licentious, that it is common to hear Reſolutions of retain'd Malice avow'd, coldly, and in general Expreſſions, Such as, Setting upon People's Skirts,—Finding a Time to be Even with them,—and the like malignant, ſilly, Phraſes, whereby the Burnings [125] of an inward Hatred ſeem to ſtruggle, for Eruption.

METHINKS, a ſufficient Fortification, againſt ſo abject a Frailty, might be drawn from ſuch Natural Reflections, as Theſe;—That, In violently returning Wrongs, we do Nothing but what Beaſts can do, more readily.—That, in Malice, the moſt Exalted Noble, is but on a Level with the Loweſt Slave: Whereas, to Pardon, is an Act of Sovereignty; and, however Inferior we were, before, to the Perſon, who has injured us, From the Moment, in which we forgive him, we exchange Conditions, and become Superior.

BUT, ſince many, who have no Ambition to be thought Men of Virtue, would, yet, gladly, be eſteemed Wiſe, It may be an Argument, of more Perſwaſion, That This Propenſity to Revenge is a Mark, not of Mean-Spiritedneſs only, but of Ignorance.—The Man of Knowledge can never be enough ſurpriz'd, at Common Wrongs, to be inflam'd into a Reſentment, either too Malicious, or too Violent.—His Wiſdom has inſtructed him, That where-ever we find Men, we ſhall be ſure to find Injuries: And, That there is a Neceſſity of its being ſo, from the incompatible, and oppoſite, Wills, Humours, and Intereſts, among Mankind.

SHOU'D the Treacherous, the Suſpicious, the Covetous, the Inſolent, or the Reproachful, behave themſelves otherwiſe than we [126] could have expected, from their Natures, we might be juſtified, in our Wonder at it.—But, why ſhould we expreſs Amazement at what it was natural for us to depend on? Why be Angry with the Inconſiderable?—Moſt of Thoſe, who provoke, and offend us, deſerve rather our Grief, and Pity; For They are no more in their own Hands, than a Madman, or an Ideot, is: And we make a poorer Figure than our Pride allows us to believe, when we diſquiet our ſelves, on ſuch weak Motives.—When a Fool throws a Straw at us, It were to ſeem light, to feel the Weight of it: And He will never enjoy Reſt, who is not Maſter of Reſolution to forgive All Thoſe Injuries, which his Honour, or his Safety, does not compel him to defend himſelf againſt.

NEITHER is there only a Wiſdom, and a Nobleneſs;—There is ſomething, too, of a generous Courage, in a Heart, that is above the Reach of theſe vindictive Impreſſions.—The Levity, that is ſhewn, in being moved, at every Trifle, carries with it an Air of Faintneſs, and may be miſtaken for Puſila [...]ity. For, the firm, and manly, Temper, apprehending Nothing, with Fear, receives all Accidents, with Calmneſs: And, juſtly conſcious of its Strength, to ſupport it ſelf, againſt Danger, is Indifferent to the Indiſcretions, or Animoſities, of malignant Natures.

[127]THERE is a ſingle, heroick, Word, in the Hiſtory of the Life of Adrian, which I could never read, without Emotions of the higheſt Admiration; and, which carries in it the Inſtruction, and Sublimity, of many Volumes!—After That Great-Spirited Prince became poſſeſſed of the Empire, He met a Perſon, in the publick Way, who had been his moſt implacable, and bitter, Enemy.—The Wretch, whoſe Heart was as contracted, as His Malice had been extenſive, began to tremble, with Expectation of ſome ſevere, and ſudden, Puniſhment,—ſuch as, He knew, He would, Himſelf, have inflicted on Adrian, had the Emperor's Power been His. But Adrian, with the ſereneſt Gravity, only whiſper'd, as He paſs'd him, EVASISTI—You have Eſcap'd me.

ALL, that Largeneſs of Soul could inſpire, or Eloquence adorn, and utter, ſeems to have been expreſs'd, in this ESCAP'D ME!—It laid open, to the View of the World, the Mighty Heart of it's Great Speaker!—It declared him nobly ſenſible, That Juſtice would look like Malice, ſhould He, now, when at the Head of Empire, revenge, upon a Private Enemy, the Contempt, He met with, while a Subject!—That very Power, and Command of Puniſhment, which ſordid Natures would have uſed, with Greedineſs, to the Deſtruction of the Man they hated, reſtrained, and temper'd, His Reſentment!—He conſidered Himſelf, as no longer [128] on a Level with his Injurer. The Protection, which he owned his Subject, diſarmed the Hatred which he bore his Enemy!—You have eſcaped, (He meant to ſay, in That ſignificant, ſingle, Word!) You have eſcaped, by my becoming your MASTER, the Vengeance which you ſhould have felt, from me, had, I continued, but, your EQUAL.—That ADRIAN is, now, no more, from whom you could not have expected Mercy; And This ADRIAN, who gives you Pardon, owes Compaſſion to His offending Subjects, and remembers none of the Other's Injuries!

IT is impoſſible, but a Collection of ſuch amiable Examples as This, enforced, by ſome perſwaſive Pen, muſt work ſtrongly upon the Minds of Men, not depraved into utter Taſtleſsneſs: For, by ſtriking, even, Little Hearts, with a clear Conviction, That the Precept contains Nothing, but what has been exceeded in the Practice, It would leave them no Pretence for Evaſion; and inſinuate, by a gradual Progreſs, out of their Memory, into their Imitation.

BUT Nothing furniſhes more Occaſion for Surprize, and Indignation, than to obſerve our Places of Publick Worſhip, filled with Outſide Formaliſts, of all Ranks, and of both Sexes; who, either with an impious Hypocriſy, or a Stupidity, as dark as Ideotiſm, affront the Majeſty of Heaven, by petitioning GOD's Pardon,—as They, Themſelves, pardon Others. While, at the very Moment [129] of their Kneeling, in this empty Mockery of Devotion, It is known, to one Half the Congregation, That the Hearts of the other Half are imbitter'd with malicious Purpoſes, and glowing with a painful Reſtleſsneſs, till they can be revenged, for, ſome ſlight Indignity.—Could Theſe People have a Senſe of the Signification of the Words they utter, They would tremble at the Apprehenſion of having What they pray for, granted, literally; and the Mercy of That dreadful GOD they dare to trifle with, refuſed, to their Unworthineſs, till they have learnt as readily to forgive, as to pray to be forgiven.

BUT, excluſive of thoſe ſeverer Arguments, which might be drawn from Grace, and Virtue, There is One, which muſt be welcome; becauſe we, all, agree to love ourſelves; and no Enemy is ſo Troubleſome, as Malice to our Pride, our Health, and our Quiet.—We ſubmit our ſelves, by this unmanly Paſſion, to the Humours of the Men we hate.—We empower them to afflict, and mortifie, us.—At the Sight of a Perſon, againſt whom we meditate Revenge, our Spirits undergo a Tempeſt: And, even when he is abſent, our Memory goads, and tortures us.—Our very Dreams become imbitter'd, and confound our Reſt, with our Diſquiet.—We wiſh the Evil to Another; but we inflict it on our Selves: And, contrary to our own Intention, become Patients, where we deſign to be Agents.—The Revenger lives [130] in Torment, and He, on whom He would be revenged, is at Eaſe.

IT is a grinding, gnawing, Paſſion, that preys inward, upon the Heart, and miſtakes the Means of its own Purpoſe.—What Triumph can Revenge afford us, but from a Reflexion, That the Perſon puniſhed, repents, and wiſhes the Wrong unacted? This End can never be obtain'd by Miſchiefs; for, by provoking new Malice, they make the Memory of the old delightful: But it may be nobly effected, by aſtoniſhing, diſgracing, and confounding an Enemy, with Benefits in return for his Demerit. And This is what the moſt Venerable of all Books very ſtrongly expreſſes, by heaping Coals of Fire, on His Head: That is, It burns, and wounds, his Imagination, with a conſcious Shame, at his Inferior Figure, while He ſees himſelf diſgraced, by Services from That Perſon, of all the World, whom he leaſt deſerved to be obliged by!—The ſtubborn Virtue of CATO, would have allowed him to ſubmit to CAESAR; but that his Pride was more afraid of a Pardon, than his Perſon was of an Inſult.

MEN of Spirit ſhou'd deſpiſe this Paſſion, becauſe it is evident, That the weakeſt Minds are moſt malicious, and revengeful.—Children, Women, and Men, leſs reſolute than Women, ſting, and fret themſelves with ſenſe of Slights, Contempts, and Follies, which they miſ-call Injuries; while the Rational, and Stedfaſt Mind neglects, or ſmiles [131] at, all ſuch Accidents.—Their Effects may flutter round him; but, when they find no Place, to enter at, are loſt, in fruitleſs Murmurings; like a Tempeſt, that is repuls'd, againſt the Firmneſs of a Mountain.—The Diſtaſts, Aſperſions, and Indignities, which appear ſo formidable, to an Abject Nature, may be compared with Thunder and Lightning; which are terrible, to our Lower World, but have nothing in them, worth the Notice of thoſe Angels, and ſuperior Spirits, which inhabit the Caeleleſtial Regions.—SCIPIO, CAESAR, ALEXANDER; All the Great and Shining Characters, which have made Antiquity Illuſtrious, have been ſo far from ſtooping, to indulge Revenge, that, on the contrary, they have ſought Occaſions, to overwhelm, with torturing Kindneſſes, the moſt malicious, of their Perſonal Enemies.

BUT, a Mixture of Shade, with Light, being neceſſary, to compleat a Picture, I will ſet them off, by one another, in a Compariſon, between a MONARCH and a MINISTER; out of Mirkond, a Perſian Writer.

A POET whoſe Name was Delah, attracted by the Fame of Ogtai-Khan's Munificence, undertook a Journey, on foot, from the remoteſt Parts of Tartary, as far as to That Prince's Court, in China, for no other Purpoſe, than to throw himſelf [132] at the Foot of his Throne, and implore his Aſſiſtance, to diſcharge a Debt, of Five Hundred Baliſches, under the Weight of which he became diſpirited, and was interrupted, in his Studies.—The Generous Prince, converſing with him, and diſcerning his Extraordinary Merit, entertain'd him very graciouſly, and order'd him a Thouſand.—His Chief Miniſter remonſtrated, That this was rather Prodigality, than Bounty, to give Double the Sum demanded!—Have you not conſider'd, reply'd Ogtai-Khan, That the Poor Man has travell'd over the Mountains, and Deſarts, merely on the Fame of our Liberality? And, ſhou'd we ſend him back with no more, than is juſt ſufficient to pay his Debts, by what Means will he be able to Defray the Charges of his Journey? But your Highneſs, (anſwer'd the Miniſter) has not, yet, been inform'd, That he preſum'd to write a Satyr, againſt ME, ſince his coming hither, becauſe I was unwilling to allow him Acceſs, with ſo impertinent a Petition!—For which Reaſon, reply'd the Prince) You ſhall preſent him with another Thouſand out of your own Private Purſe, That he may go back, and tell his Countrymen, there is a Monarch, in this part of the World, who permits not his MINISTERS's RESENTMENTS to be the Meaſures of his Bounty.

[133]JUST half as good a Story we read, of Queen Elizabeth, and our Spencer; She had order'd him a Hundred Marks, for ſome Piece of his Poetry: But the Frugal Treaſurer, of thoſe Days, whoſe Wit was too Little, for his Wiſdom, took upon him to tell the Queen it was too much Money for an Idle Ballad.—Give him, then, ſaid She, what you think he deſerves, in Reaſon.—He reply'd, he would conſider of it; which he delay'd to do, ſo long, that, at laſt, he quite forgot it.

THE Queen, a Year or two after, din'd, in one of her Progreſſes, at the Houſe of a Gentleman, where Spencer happen'd to be; who, in Preſence of his Friend, the Treaſurer, put into her Hands theſe Verſes.

I was promis'd, on a Time,
To have Reaſon, for my Rhime:
But, from that Time, unto this Seaſon,
I have had nor Rhime nor Reaſon.

THE Queen (ſays the Story) was highly pleas'd with the Humour, and commanded the Treaſurer to pay him Double the Sum, firſt order'd.—Had She added, That he ſhou'd pay it out of his own Private Purſe, we ſhou'd have found no Occaſion to mend her deficient Example, by a Better, in that of Ogtai-Khan, juſt mention'd.

The Plain Dealer. No 73.
MONDAY, November 30. 1724.

[134]

Proprium humani ingenii odiſſe quos laeſerit.

TACIT.

MAHOMET the IId, That victorious Turkiſh Emperor, who took Conſtantinople from the Chriſtians, had a very great Genius for Poetry, and was ſo warm in its Encouragement, that He is reported to have offer'd Rewards, for every Fault, that cou'd be pointed out, in the Works of his Court Poets, and made Good againſt the Arguments, which ſhou'd be brought, in Favour of the Defendants.

HEAVEN be prais'd, That His Majeſty of GREAT BRITAIN has no ſuch partial Opinion of the Poets of our Age, and Country! Such a Proclamation wou'd drain his Exchequer, more effectually than a Ten Years War, with the ſtrongeſt Power of Europe!

BUT, I believe, we may live at Eaſe: The Encouragement of the Poet's Art, in this preſent Generation, will occaſion no Profuſeneſs, that can be dangerous to the Revenue. [135] And, as for our Great Men, They are Patrons, for the moſt Part, as They are Doctors, and Maſters of Art, rather by Accident, than by Purpoſe; and think themſelves under no Obligation to pay for Compliments which their Conſcience tells them, They have No Right to.

THE Truth is, when Any Thing, ſo Extraordinary, falls out, as, That A Man of Quality is Witty Himſelf, and an Encourager of Wit, in Others; The Poets are ſo Unmerciful, in their Aſſaults on his Liberality, That His Equals, in Dignity, have found much Safety and Comfort, in the Fame of Dullneſs. And there never was a livelier Proof of the Soundneſs of That Common Maxim, that Honeſty is the beſt Policy; than the Succeſs of the faſhionable Expedient, (at once ſo frank, and ſo ingenious!) of returning the Dedicator's Gilt Book, with this ſhort Apology for not accepting it—My Lord gives his Service, and ſays, He does not UNDERSTAND theſe Matters.

FOR Want of ſome ſuch dext'rous Stroke of Art, The Grandees, of That Turkiſh Emperor's Court, whom I nam'd, at the Head of my Paper, were, often, reduc'd to a Nonplus. It was, particularly, the Caſe of Ali-Baſha, His Favourite Treaſurer. He had learnt to Read, and caſt Accompts; But Wit being out of his Way, He had one, regular, Method of rewarding All who addreſs'd their Writings to Him: He put the Book into one Scale, and [136] dropt Gold into another, and, having adjuſted the Balance, gave the Weight of the Work, as a Gratuity, to the Author.—The worſt Effect of this General Rule was, That it was common for the lighteſt Diſcourſes to bring with them the heavieſt Bindings. There was nothing, more Subſtantial than the Covers of this Great Patron's Books!—But one Poet, above the Reſt, had contriv'd a pleaſant Scheme, to make the moſt of his Ingenuity. He compos'd a Copy of Verſes; and, inſtead of Writing them, in the uſual Manner, caus'd them to be Engrav'd on a Block of Marble, that was large enough for a Tombſtone!—He loaded a Cart with his Compliment, and went to wait on the Baſha with it; who, having Notice of his intended Preſent, ſent out the Maſter of his Buildings, to examine the Size, and Workmanſhip, of the Stone, and pay for it, according to its Value—The Poet went away very much ſurpriz'd, and diſſatisfy'd, and writ his Patron a Complaint, How contrary to His Greatneſs's Cuſtom, His Officers had preſum'd to Treat him: To which the Baſha anſwer'd, gravely, That it aroſe, from a Change, in His Manner;—For, whereas he had, formerly, rewarded, by WEIGHT, He ſhou'd, hereafter, do it, by MEASURE.

WE have ſome, among our Nobility, who are equally Illuſtrious for their Learning, and their Patronage of Learning: But they are ſo Poetically perſecuted, by the Swarms of Little [137] Creatures, who have no End, in Writing, but the Profit they propoſe to draw from it, That they meet with daily Provocations to repel the Avarice of Flattery, with a Spirit, and Sharpneſs, like the Baſha's, above-mention'd: And, This, no Doubt, is one Reaſon for the Neglect, which Works of Genius often meet with, when addreſs'd to Men of Quality.

BUT, if Contempt is due to the Mercenary, The Modeſt deſerve Encouragement: And They, who are truly Generous, ſhou'd never wait, till Occaſion offers it ſelf; but ſeek, and make, the Opportunity. For, as the Sharpneſs of our Sight is beſt prov'd by the Remoteneſs, in which we diſtinguiſh Objects; ſo our Judgment appears, moſt ſtrongly, when we diſcern Merit at Diſtance, and invite it, to aproach us.

I AM always pleas'd with the Proſpect of Any Work, from which the Publick may promiſe It ſelf, either Entertainment, or Inſtruction: And I hope, The Gentleman, who has ſent me the following Verſes, and Letter, will have no Reaſon to complain of the Reception, His Deſign ſhall meet with.

The HAPPY MAN.
HIGH, o'er the Winding of a cliffy Shoar.
From whoſe worn Steep, the back'ning Surges roar:
Freeman,—Sweet Lot!—in quiet Plenty, lives,
Rich, in the unbought Wealth, which Nature gives.
Ʋnplanted Groves riſe, round his ſhelter'd Seat,
And ſelf ſown Flow'rs attract his wandring Feet:
Lengths of wild Garden his near Views adorn;
And far-ſeen Fields wave; with domeſtick Corn.
[138]The grateful Herds, which his own Paſtures feed,
Pay their ask'd Lives, and in due Tribute, bleed.
Here, in learn'd Leiſure, He relaxes Life,
'Twixt pratt'ling Children, and a ſmiling Wife.
Here, on dependent Want, He ſheds his Care;
Moves, amid Smiles; and All, he hears, is Pray'r.
The World lies round him, like a Subject Soil;
Stor'd, for his Service, but beneath his Toil.
Hence, in a Morning Walk, His piercing Eye
Skims the green Ocean, to the circling Sky;
And marks, at Diſtance, ſome returning Sail,
Wing'd, by the Courtſhip of a flatt'ring Gale:
The fearleſs Crew, concluding Danger o'er,
With glad'ning Shouts, ſalute the opening Shore:
Fore-think how, beſt, They may their Gains employ;
And antedate thin Scenes of promis'd Joy!
Till a near Quickſand checks their ſhorten'd Way;
And the ſunk Maſts point thro' the riſing Spray!
Freeman ſtarts, ſad!—revolves the changeful Sight;
Where Mis'ry can, ſo ſoon, ſucceed Delight.
Then, ſhakes his Head, in Pity of their Fate;
And, ſweetly conſcious, hugs His happier State.
Mr. PLAIN DEALER,

THE Encloſed is one Copy of Verſes, of a great Number, which my Friends have been kind enough to ſavour me with, in Order to furniſh out a Collection of Miſcellaneous POEMS: Concerning which, you may, poſſibly, have met with a Propoſal in the Hands of ſome of your Acquaintance, for their being publiſh'd, by Subſcription, in the Name of Richard Savage, Son of the late Earl Rivers.

[139] I AM, Sir, That unfortunate Richard Savage; the peculiar Circumſtances of whoſe uncommon Treatment, from a Mother (whoſe fine Qualities make it impoſſible to me not to forgive her, even, while I am miſerable, by Her Means, only) induced You, ſome Months ſince, in your Twenty Eighth Paper, to publiſh a Few ineffectual Lines, which I had written, on Her ſurprizing Uſage of me: To which your Humanity was pleas'd to add certain Reflections, in my Favour, which I remember with due Gratitude; and am encouraged, by That Inſtance of your Goodneſs, to make the preſent Application.

WHEN you ſhall have peruſed my Extraordinary Caſe, and Thoſe convincing Original Letters, which I have entruſted with the Gentleman, who brings you This, I ſhall need ſay no more, to ſatisfie You, What Right I have, to complain, in a more Publick Manner, than I have, yet, allowed my ſelf to reſolve on.—The Papers, in the Order you will ſee them, are prepared for a Hand, too Juſt, and too Powerful, to to leave me the leaſt Diſtruſt of being, ſhortly, leſs oppreſſed than I have been: But I judged my ſelf obliged to lay them under your Eye, That you might be ſenſible, you ſaid leſs, of my Wrongs, and my Sufferings, than the unhappy Truth could have juſtified.

[140] AS to the mentioned Collection of POEMS, They are, ſome of 'em my own: But many more the Works of Eminent Hands, for the moſt Part, never before publiſh'd.—The Subſcription will be Half a Guinea: And, as I can ſollicite Nothing, with Importunity, in which (tho' a ſmall one) I have a viſible Intereſt, my Subſcribers will be only Thoſe, who, if They think They ſee any Thing, in me, or in my Deſign, worth their Notice, or Encouragement, can have Generoſity enough to ſave me the Confuſion of applying to them, and ſend their Names, and the Number of Books they ſubſcribe for, to Button's Coffee-Houſe, in Covent-Garden; where Receipts will be given.

THE Book is now in the Preſs, and will be publiſhed, as ſoon as it can be printed off.—If you find, among the Poems, which my Friend has deſir'd he may ſhew you, What you think worthy of your Aprrobation, In That Caſe, (and in That only) I ſhall hope your favourable Interpoſition in Behalf of,

SIR,
Your moſt obliged, humble Servant, RICHARD SAVAGE.

I HAVE, purpoſely, left out, much of This ingenious, and unhappy, Gentleman's Letter, which was very new, and ſurprizing; and affected me with the moſt touching Grief.—If I apprehend His Caſe clearly [141] (and the Proofs He ſent me, are too ſtrong, to be eaſily miſtaken) It is, in ſome Meaſure, to be conſidered, as That of an Injured Nobleman,—But of This, the World will judge, for it ſelf, when the Particulars ſhall be more publick,—That is His own immediate Concern, and will, I ſuppoſe, be His own Care:—But His Propoſal is What Every Body ought to take Part in; becauſe the Book, in itſelf, has a very uncommon Merit: And Both Merit, and Ill-Fortune, join, to recommend the Propoſer.

I THINK it was finely ſaid, by a Gentleman, whoſe Writings, and Humanity, were, for many Years, the Admiration of the Kingdom.—That it ought to be the Care of All, in whoſe Power it lay, to lift Mr. SAVAGE above a Senſe of his MOTHER's Cruelty; becauſe a Miſery, ſo undeſerved, had intitled him to a Right of finding Every Good Man his FATHER.

BUT, when, to a Miſery ſo undeſerved, we add a Deſign, ſo full of Reaſon, It is impoſſible, but there muſt be Many, who will feel a noble Delight, in diſtinguiſhing their Zeal, for ſo modeſt a Propoſer; and ſend their own Names, and Thoſe of Others, whom they can Influence, as ſo many Examples, when the Liſt comes to be publiſh'd, That we have Spirits, who can diſcover Genius, before it riſes into Noiſe: and dare promote it, without waiting till the Way has been led, by Others.

The Plain Dealer. No 74.
FRIDAY, December 4. 1724.

[142]
—Fuit haec Sapientia quondam,
Publica privatis ſecernere, ſacra profanis.
HOR.

MY Devotion, I am afraid, is not ſo Pure, and Simple, as it ought to be. There is a Niceneſs, in my Taſte of other People's Behaviour, at Church, which ill agrees with the Duty, which I my ſelf am there, for the Diſcharge of.

I diſcovered this Defect of Grace in the Conſtitution of my Zeal, by a kind of Reprobate Contempt, which I found my ſelf affected by, laſt Sunday, againſt that plain, and humble, Aukwardneſs, with which the mangled Pſalms of David, were vociferated, by the Congregation.—A Gentleman, of my Acquaintance, unluckily whiſpered me, (in the midſt of what they call their Singing) That he knew a Dutch Painter, who had drawn the livelieſt Groteſque Piece, in Europe, by an Idea, that he brought out of Church [143] with him, from a Gallery of Country Pſalms-Singers.

MY Eyes, and Ears, took his Hint; and I ſhall never forget the Group of Living Imagery!—The Rolling Eyes, Raiſed Faces, Hanging Heads, Oblique Chins, Stretch'd Mouths, and Diſtorted Muſcles!—The Voices too were as provokingly diſſonant, as the Looks were ludicrouſly penitential!—Inſtead of finding my Thoughts exalted, by the Spirit of tranſporting Harmony, I became aſhamed, at the preſumptuous Licenſe, with which the Coarſeſt, and moſt unskilful Roarers took upon 'em to bear Part, in Muſick, Sacred to the Praiſes of the ALMIGHTY.

THIS brought to my Reflection, with how much Reaſon, as well as Reverence, The Choirs of our Cathedral Churches preſerve the Dignity of their Religious Harmony, by excluding the Unskill'd; and aiding the Attracted Heart, by all the ſweet, and melting Force, of Vocal and of Inſtrumental Muſick; in its moſt moving Elegance, and Perfection.

BUT, It is not only the Manner in which Pſalms are commonly ſung, that I conſider as an Indecency: The Pſalms Themſelves, as we have them in the old Engliſh, Verſion, are a Diſgrace to our our Learning, Language, and our Religion!—Who, that forms his Notion of David's Genius, from his Poetry, as This Tranſlation gives it us, could poſſibly believe Him the Sublimeſt, of All Human Writers? Who, that ſhould read theſe Lines, as they run, in the Exalted Original?

[144]
Lord, Let not All, alike, Thy Mercy ſhare,
Strike the PRESUMPTUOUS, but the LOWLY ſpare.

WHO, I ſay, could ſuppoſe He had found them, either in the Senſe, or the deſpicable Expreſſion, of This, which follows, from our Vulgar Verſion?

O Lord, then, be not Slack;
Nor draw thy Hand a-back:
But pluck it forth, from out thy Lap,
And give thy Foes a RAP!

THE Sectarians, who are (too frequently) exceeding Rigid, and Narrow, in their Adherence to imbib'd Prejudices, ſeem rather to affect, than diſcourage, Cant and Dullneſs, in their Religious Eloquence: And, it is a very Extraordinary Reaſon which ſome of thoſe Gentlemen have been pleaſed to give us, in Print, for the want of Taſte, and Incapacity, with which the Nobleſt, and moſt Elevated, Strokes of David's Sacred Poetry, have been debaſed into Low, and untuneable Jargon;—God's Altars need none of our Poliſhing! As, if to write poorly, were a Merit, in Religious Treatiſes; and it were poſſible to find a Subject, more adapted to the Fullneſs of Art, than the Praiſes of That GOD, who formed Both Art and Nature!

THERE is Nothing ſo Rapturous! Nothing ſo ſtrongly painted, in all the nobleſt [145] Warmths of Fancy, or of Judgment, which have immortalized the Antient Poets, as moſt of the Hebrew Deſcriptions of the Power, and Majeſty of GOD! And, among Theſe, The CIVth Pſalm, and eſpecially the Firſt Part of it, is a Collection, in one View, of the moſt Dreadful and Amiable, of the Almighty's Attributes: So glowingly conceived, and repreſented in ſuch lively Fullneſs; that all the Greek and Latin ODES, are faint, and languid, in Compariſon with it.

IT is impoſſible to Tranſlate the Images of This prodigious Poet, without doing them ſome Injuſtice: But, having lately been preſented with an Eſſay, upon the mentioned Pſalm, in which an Eye has been, Every where, kept to the Senſe and Dignity of the Original, rather than to its dead Letter, I will publiſh it, as a Proof, That Nothing can be more unlike the Thoughts of David, than what we ſing, as His in moſt of our Churches.

I.
NOW, while my Heav'n-tun'd Harp is rightly ſtrung,
Soar, my wing'd Soul! And let Thy GOD be ſung.
Cloath'd with embodied Light, He reigns, ſublime;
And graſps Eternity,—and governs Time!
From His fear'd Wrath, the Sun's fierce Blaze retires:
And dark Convulſions ſhake his ſick'ning Fires.
Conſcious of Beams, which dazzle Nature's Eye,
And, which, but once, to View, were, then, to die;
[146]Kindly, th' unequal Sight of Man to skreen,
God, like a Curtain, drew out Heav'n, between.
Dreadfully known, in aweful Fires, He glides:
Or, veil'd, in Clouds, His Self-roll'd Chariots, rides!
He walks upon the Wings, which guide the Wind:
Steps, beyond Worlds,—and leaves ev'n Thought behind.
II.
Myriads of Angels His Commands fullfil;
Angels! the Heralds of Almighty Will!
Lightnings, in Millions, ſweep His fiery Way:
And, round His Paths, in blue Maeanders, play!
The firm fix'd Ballance of the pendant Globe,
To neither Bias, partial, ſway'd,
Poiz'd, at His Word, has, from Time's Birth, obey'd.
III.
The covering Deep drew off the World's wet Robe,
Gave back—and fill'd the Chanels, He had made:
But (tow'ring as, the Hills!) reluctant, ſtaid;
Diſpleas'd with its New Bounds,—and, yet afraid,
It's old to re-invade!
The ſtubborn, and diſdainful, Flood,—no more
High-licens'd, as before,
Oft, with bold Vengeance, wou'd devour the Shore:
But, when the Rebel Surges ſwell, too high,
And ſprinkle Heaven's Eternal Eye;
Sudden—the watchful Prohibitions riſe:
The ſtarting Flood hears—ſhakes—and flies:
Down ſink Her watry Mountains, from the Sky;
And, huſh'd in humble Flatneſs, lie!
Yet, at the Sovereign Will, They quit their Beds:
And climb, above the Mountain's loftieſt Heads!
[147]Thence, call'd, again ruſh down, at God's controll,
And, o'er broad Kingdoms, in wild Tempeſt, roll!
Looſe, as they are, They feel th' Almighty's Check:
They know th' appointed Bounds; and watch th' imperious Beck!
IV.
To Life's cold Treaſury; the briny Deep,
Thro' Earth-form'd Laby'rinths taught to ſlide,
Fruitful of Springs the winding Currents creep;
Thence, trickling, into Rivulets, they glide:
Slow travelling, to trace their mazy Way,
And 'twixt th' enamour'd Hills, delightful, ſtray!
Sweet, and exhauſtleſs, Stores, of limpid Drink,
For each wild Thirſt, that ſeeks the ſmiling Brink,
And, in the Groves, that, bord'ring, riſe,
Sit, hous'd, the warbling Songſters of the Skies.
But the proud Mountains, which, ambitious, grow,
And, viewing Heav'n, diſdain the World below;
Nor will to humble Brooks Refreſhment owe;
Sip the moiſt Clouds; and cool their Heads, in Snow.
V.
Amazing Goodneſs!—where's the ſmalleſt ſpace,
Which does not feel His pow'rful Grace?
The Herds, luxuriant, crop the flow'ry Mead;
Fruit was for Man's ſuperiour Taſte decreed:
For Him, th' inſpiring Grape was taught to bleed.
Bread-bearing Corn ſupports the Labou'rers Toil
And his rough Skin relents, with ſoft'ning Oil.
VI.
Call'd, at fix'd Times, up rolls the changeful Moon;
And ſhoots her Shado'wy Gleam, thro' Nights black Noon!
Swift, tho' the Light, from its high Source, deſcends,
It dares not dart its Way, one Thought too ſoon.
[148]Yet, at God's Word, the Flag of Day is furl'd;
And licens'd Darkneſs riſes, o'er the World!
Then, does the gloomy Foreſt ſhake;
And ſummon'd Savages their Sallies make:
The painting Herds creep, terrified, away;
While the ſtern Lyon, hungry, roars for Prey!
God ſuffers him His meant Support to take,
And, then, new-wakes the Day!
VII.
The Sea's wild Herds, as well as Thoſe, on Land,
Rough-moulded Sons, too, of Thy formful Hand!
All! live, and move, by Thy Command.
That horrid Scene fatigues the aking Eye!
There, canvas'd Ships the op'ning Depths defie:
Captive the Winds—and diffe'rent Courſes ply.
There, does Leviathan, wide wallowing, lye!
And, while his Sports the finny Nations fly,
Th' unweildy Monſter ſucks in Seas; and ſpouts them at the Sky!
On Thee, Great Maker! All Thy Creatures wait;
And, in due Seaſon, All, by Thee, are fed:
Thy All-deciding Pleaſure is their Fate!
They ſeek but what Thy ope'ning Hand has ſpread.
Soon, as thou hid'ſt Thy Face, we fall away,
To unform'd Duſt;—and, old, paternal, Clay!
VIII.
Time ſhall have End: But God, ſhall, ſtill endure!
The ſelf-rais'd Pillars of Thy Pow'r ſtand ſure!
The Mountain Tops wou'd ſmoak,—if touch'd by Thee:
And EARTH flow, liquid, and o'erwhelm the SEA!

The Plain Dealer. No 75.
MONDAY, December 7. 1724.

[149]
—Artem Experientia fecit:
Exemplo monſtrante viam—
MANIL.

I DECLAR'D, in a late Paper, that my Speculations ſhou'd ſometimes, extend to Politicks. This Day's Entertainment ſhall be an Introduction, to that Purpoſe; which I ſhall, occaſionally, purſue, with the open Spirit of a PLAIN DEALER: aſſerting, and making free with All the Liberty I was born to:—A Liberty, which does not alone intitle us to a Property in our Eſtates, but in our Thoughts alſo. It is the great Charecteriſtick of every Free-born Briton, That He may ſpeak, as He thinks, and think, as He pleaſes.

WHILE, like the Provinces of the declining Empire of Old Rome, we are fretting, and diſturbing ourſelves, (under the Notion of Reaſon, and Principle) to ſupport the factious Avarice of a few aſpiring Men, who find their Intereſt in our Diviſions, the GOTHS are at [150] our Gate; and we are apprehenſive of no outward Danger.—There ſeems to be riſing, near us, That NORTHERN LYON, which has, ſo often, been propheſied of: And I believe, in the Courſe of my Papers, I ſhall make it ſufficiently viſible, that, if early Meaſures are not taken, by Way of Prevention, againſt the threaten'd Evil, the UNIVERSAL EMPIRE, which Spain and France, have ſucceſſively alarm'd Europe with a fruitleſs Dread of, ſeems, in Reality, to be coming upon us, with all the Terrors of a Fifth General Monarchy.

IF it is ſuppos'd, That ſuch a Fear concerns Us, leſs than other States, which may be thought to lie more expos'd, I doubt we deceive Our-ſelves, by a Vanity, common to all Nations, in over-rating the Hazard of an Enemy, who ſhou'd preſume to invade us.—Our Ships, (powerful, and numerous, as they are) are more formidable by the Reputation of their Terror, than by the Danger of their Oppoſition. For, to expect that a Fleet will, at all Times, be able to keep Danger at a Diſtance, were to give our Protection to the Winds—How many Caveats, againſt ſo unſtable a Security, cannot our own Hiſtory furniſh us with?—Neither ought it to be conſider'd, as a Remote, or Chimerical, Proſpect, That we may be match'd in our Marine Pretenſions—We cannot poſſibly have more Advantage, in the Fame, and Practice, of Dominion at Sea, againſt [151] any of our Cotemporary States, than the Carthaginians had againſt the Romans: And the Succeſs which crown'd the Induſtry, and unconquerable Spirit, of theſe Laſt, in Defiance of all Obſtacles, as well of Nature, as of Art, is a Leſſon, which may may teach our Stateſmen, That there is infinite Difference, between Things difficult, and Things impoſſible.

NOT to inſiſt on, the memorable Surprize, with which France, in a few Years Application, convinc'd us, with how little Reaſon we had indulg'd a Notion, That there were natural Impoſſibilities to prevent that Great Nation from becoming Powerful, at Sea; All which were found mere Shadows, when the Genius of her Miniſters turn'd their Thoughts on attempting it!—The prodigious, and enterprizing, Spirit of the preſent Czar of Ruſſia has, at once, eſtabliſh'd, in the Baltick, a Third Maritime Power, Superiour to Both its old Ones: And, now, while I am Writing, has a Fleet of Sixty Ships of the Line, beſides Frigates;—and Gallies without Number.

AS to natural Advantages, whether for building, equipping, or maintaining a Navy, this Prince has the Start of us, beyond all Compariſon.—And ſince, when his Ships are as Many, and as Strong, as ours, (which judging by what has been done already, they may be, in Three or Four Years) our whole Pretence to Superiority muſt be plac'd in our [152] Skill, and Experience, in Sea-Fights, how dangerous wou'd the Conſequence be found, ſhou'd he hit upon ſome New Method of improving his Veſſels, in their Strength, Defenſive, or Offenſive? Many High, and Arduous Attempts toward which, have buſied, ſome Years paſt, the unreſting Genius of that Monarch.

WITHIN the Memory of Numbers, yet living, the Muſcovites were conſider'd, as a People, ſo far from Dangerous, that they were even Contemptible: And the precipitate Advance of their Reputation in Arms, and Policy, is a Proof, that no Vanity is more weakly founded, and unjuſt, than the Common Practice of all Nations, to eſteem Themſelves more Valiant than their Neighbours.—Mankind is every where the ſame, by Nature, till a Difference is produc'd, by Cuſtom.—What Nation braver, than the Perſians under Cyrus? Yet, what Nation baſer, when they oppos'd the Arms of Alexander?—What People, under Heaven, have more inrich'd the Hiſtories of former Ages, than the Anceſtors of thoſe degenerate Greeks, who are, now, the Diſgrace of Chriſtendom? Contented Slaves, under a Tyranny, a thouſand Times more inſupportable than the worſt of Thoſe, in ſcorn of which their ancient Orators have fill'd the World with Noiſy Declamations, in the boaſted Cauſe of Liberty! ITALY, the imperious Miſtreſs of the Univerſe! has been ſunk, for many Ages; and [153] parcell'd into petty, and almoſt inconſiderable, Juriſdictions!—And, to bring the Proof quite Home, what People ever ſeem'd to hold a clearer Superiority over their Enemies, than the Engliſh Armies, which our Firſt Edward, led to War againſt the Scots? And, yet, what Truth more undeniable, than the ſhameful Cowardice, and downright Baſeneſs, of the Sons of thoſe very Engliſh, drawn out, againſt the Sons of the ſame Scots, in the next ſucceeding Reign of Edward the Second.

COURAGE, when conſider'd nationally, is not the Effect of Nature, but of Diſcipline! Skill, and Practice, teaching an Agility in the Uſe of Arms, excite a Pleaſure in their Exerciſe: And, abating, by Degrees, that Fear of Death, which is natural to all Men, convert it into Hope of Victory; and a proud, and reſtleſs, Thirſt of Glory.—Arms therefore, and a dexterous Superiority in the Uſe of them, ſhould be eſteemed the Sinews of War; and not MONEY, as is, commonly, pretended.—An Army, capable of conquering, will always find Means of ſubſiſting: But Money, though it ſubſiſts an ill-diſciplined Army, can never qualifie it for conquering.—The Helpleſs Indians, of Mexico, were infinitely Richer, than their Plunderers,—the Goths, when (from that very Country, which the Czar now governs) they overran, and ruin'd Europe, brought them only, Iron; they knew, That would make them Maſters of all the Gold, they ſhould have Occaſion for.

[154]PRINCES, whoſe Authority is abſolute, and uncontroll'd, by Privileges, Rights, or Cuſtoms; whoſe Dominions are vaſt, and populous, and whoſe Subjects are laborious, hardy, and obedient; and acquainted with no Learning, but what is ſufficient to aid their Induſtry, without inflaming their Pride.—Such Princes, become dreadful, as ſoon as they appear ambitious, and exert themſelves in Preparations for War.—But, when it happens, too, that a Prince, in ſo tempting a Situation, has a Genius capable of Improving the Art-Military, It is difficult to put Limits to the Conſequences, which may attend His Fortune.

THO' the Study of the Art of War has been carried to a great Perfection, yet there is Room enough left to give Scope to the Force of Genius, this Way: And it would, perhaps, be found, upon Trial, That the Modern Syſtem, (notwithſtanding the Uſe of Gunpowder, which was unknown to the Ancients) is as ſubject as the old was, to be trampled on, and overpower'd, by ſome new, and unforeſeen, Diſcoveries, on thoſe Sides, moſt eſpecially, where we believe ourſelves ſecureſt.

THE meaſur'd Lines of Humane Foreſight, which are, ſo proudly diſtinguiſhed, by the Name of Policy, are vain Amuſements, and mere Cobweb Subtleties.—Their narrow, buſy, Schemes, of balancing the Power, and Intereſts of Nations, are often inſufficient for the [155] Purpoſes of their Deſigners, becauſe theſe High-way Stateſmen found their Maxims upon Error, in the firſt Concoction.—The Force of a Prince is, by their Rule, to be calculated, from his Revenue, and his Revenue, from the Wealth of his Subjects: But This Argument depends intirely on the general, miſtaken, Notion, That All Equal Numbers, will be of Equal Weight, in War; which is ſo far from being true, That, ſhould the Pooreſt Prince in Europe, fall upon the Richeſt, with a Skill in Arms, as much Superiour, as He is Inferiour in his Numbers, the Diſparity would be revers'd, immediately.

THE Romans, who never conquer'd, in order to prolong a War, but to make it bear its own Expences; and encreaſe, as well their Treaſury, as their Reputation, were ſo far from this new Way, of computing an Enemy's Strength, by his Riches, that Their Judgment was directly contrary. And this Opinion of Ancient Times appears ſtrongly in that magnanimous Anſwer, which was given by a Gaul, to a King of Macedon, who ſhew'd him his Heaps of Gold, in order to excite Terror; and, then, ask'd him, What He thought of His Condition? The rugged Soldier reply'd, ſharply, That as to what concern'd His Condition, a Stranger could be no Judge: But His BOUNTY, He could perceive, Extraordinary,—ſince he had taken ſuch unuſual Pains to let his Enemies be convinc'd, clearly, That his Kingdom was worth their Conquering.

[56]WHERE a Prince is really ſtrong,—To be held Weak, in the Opinion of the World, is rather a Benefit, than a Diſadvantage.—His Preparations alarm no Body; and the Blow, he deſigns to ſtrike, will as ſoon be felt, as apprehended: Whereas the Fame of Power, and Riches keeps Jealouſy awake; and attracts Envy, and Oppoſition, from all Quarters.—The Fortune of the late French King had, poſſibly, kept Pace with his Ambition, if it had not been watch'd, and check'd, upon this ſingle Conſideration.—On the other Hand, Guſtavus Adolphus was ſo happily deſpis'd, by the Auſtrian Grandeur, which took it for granted, according to the modern Reaſoning, That the Poverty of ſuch an Invader would be a Curb to his Courage, that, boldly entring Germany with an Army of but Seven Thouſand Men, he carried every Thing before him, like a Torrent; broke the whole Scheme of the Emperor's Deſigns; and had ruin'd, in all Likelyhood, the Intereſt of that Family, if he had not been kill'd, in the Battle of Lutzen.

DESIGNING, in ſome future Papers, to ſpeak of Things, a little out of the common Road, and draw Concluſions, which I judge too new, to venture on, without a previous Notice, That I propoſe not to deduce my Arguments from the Principles of Modern Politiques, and therefore refuſe to be try'd by them; I have, for that Reaſon, thought neceſſary to publiſh theſe few General Reflections, as a Preparative, for what I intend, hereafter, to conſider, in a more diſtinct, and peculiar, Manner.

The Plain Dealer. No 76.
FRIDAY, December 11. 1724.

[157]
Quos Ego—Sed motos praeſtat componere fluctus.
VIRG.
Age, ſi hic non inſanit ſatis ſua ſponte, inſtiga.
TEREN. AND.

WHILE I was preparing to make good my Promiſe, in a late Paper, concerning the AFRICAN COMPANY; I receiv'd the following Letter; which has thrown me under a Neceſſity of Suſpending the Execution of my Purpoſe, 'till I can argue the LADIES into a Humour of Supporting the Burthen of ſomething, very Grave, upon the Comfort of its having been preceeded by ſomething that was very Whimſical.

Mr. PLAIN DEALER,

I HAVE been One of your Female Readers, ever ſince your firſt Appearance; and, having begun to take a Fancy to you, was much concern'd, for your ſake, when I ſaw you venturing upon African Stock. [158] Take my Word for it, You and I ſhall be both Loſers? Only I have loſt Money: And the PLAIN-DEALER will loſe, but Labour.

YOU may ſpare your ſelf the Trouble of Inſtructing the knowing Gentlemen, who manage our Affairs, in that Country, how to get, all that is to be gotten: And ſince no more than All, can be hop'd for, away with your Schemes to improve Trade, and enable us to improve Converſation.—I remember a Story in one of your Papers, of a Widow, at Wapping, that had brought over an Elephant, from Guinea, that cou'd dance, Moll Peatly, Overturn Apple Baskets, and play a cleverer Circle of of Tricks than a whole Set of Managers, put together.—I remember, too, there was a Ruſſian Bear, in the ſame Paper, who came over to offer his Service among the Italian Fidlers, of our Haymarket Orchieſtra: But was rejected, as I ſince heard, on the Remonſtrance of ſome of their Singers,—That his Strokes were too Maſculine, for their Meaſure.—Now, never truſt me, if I was not a Thouſand times more pleas'd, with your Account of theſe two wonderful Curioſities, than I am like to be, with your expected Eſſay, for the Improvement of our African Traffick.

BUT, if you can prevail with the Royal Company to Trade in ſomething, which we Women, may find our Intereſt in; If, in [159] their Exports, for Example, you cou'd include our Husbands, and diſagreeable Lovers: And, enrich the Bills of Entry, with any Privileges, Rights, or Benefits, imported Cuſtom-free, for the Uſe of the SEX, at home: In this Caſe, I cou'd read, with Patience, the moſt profound, of your Commercial Diſſertations, and ſo, might come, in Time, to get Gravity, and Breath, enough to peruſe one Moiety of an Act of Parliament; or begin, and end, a Church Hiſtory.—I am (in no ſmall Terror, and Apprehenſion.)

SIR,
Yours, at all Points, proper, LAETITIA GAMBOL.

AS there is nothing, more eaſie, than to ſatisfie the Demand of this Lady; and I am, naturally, inclin'd to do every Thing in my Power to promote the Pleaſure, or Intereſt, of the SEX, I ſhall poſtpone, what I mean to ſay, further, on the Improvement of that Company's Trade, in general, 'till I have open'd a Proſpect to this ungovernable Member of theirs, Mrs. LETTY GAMBOL, of the many Great, and Glorious Advantages, which may be imported, as ſhe deſires, out of Africa, to our Sea-Port Towns; and thence, ſpread themſelves, in due Time, over the Heart of this happy Kingdom; for the Eaſe, Emolument, [160] and Diſtinction, of the Women, its beſt MANUFACTURE.

I SHALL not confine my ſelf to any ſingle Part of Africa, but boldly, ranſack that whole Continent, for a Purpoſe, ſo Meritorious.—It is the ſame Thing to me, whether the Commodities I enquire after, are the Products of Wappo, of Popo, or of Ekke Tokki; Provided only, That the Goods are as polite, and elegant, as the Names, I ſhall load as willingly at Boffow, or Juffer, as at Quaqua: Nor ſhall I make any Difference, as to the Value I rate Laudable Cuſtoms at, from the One's having been the Prerogative of a Boſſum, and the Other the Quality of an Arompo *.

THE Sable Toaſts of thoſe Sunny Climates have ſuch Choice of Tempting Privileges, that I ſhall have Room, in this Paper, to recommend but a very few of them: I will, therefore, ſelect the Beſt; and begin with this ARCH-CLAIM of Virginity, within the Tropicks, that Girls, at Nine Years old, commence Women!

THE Young Ladies, too, in moſt Places, are at Liberty to diſpoſe, freely, of whatever may be call'd Their own: And, when, afterwards, they think of Marrying, their [161] Credit, like that of other Traders, is rated the higher, by how much wider, and more publickly, They have carried on their Dealing.

I THINK, no Doubt can ariſe, concerning the Welcome with which Theſe Two valuable RIGHTS will be receiv'd: But, not being altogether ſo clear, in my Opinion, concerning the following, I ſhall leave it to be weigh'd, maturely, How, far it may be of Uſe AMONG US, it is a Privilege to retire, from the Fatigue of Man's Society, after having been Mothers of Ten Children.

THE Antient Tryal, by bitter Waters, has been more generally heard of, than approv'd, among our Women here at home, who, if not, perhaps, the Deepeſt, are, unqueſtionably, the prettieſt Caſuiſts, in the Univerſe. But the Duskier Beauties, of Negroland, when under Accuſations of too much good Nature, have an Appeal, to ſweeter Waters, in Juſtification of their Innocence: For, in order to diſcover, to a jealous Husband, whether the Wife has been guilty, or not, ſhe is thrown, headlong, into a River: And if ſhe drowns, ſhe was a Sinner. But, it is a Remark, of great Conſolation, That there never was found a Woman, who had not Lightneſs enough to Swim; and eſcape the Malice of her Accuſers.

THERE is ſomething, too, in their agreeable Manner of Mourning, for the Death of a Husband, which deſerves to be offer'd to the Conſideration of the SEX, in theſe more [162] Phlegmatick, Northern, Regions: And one wou'd wonder, indeed, how any thing, ſo extravagantly Polite, ſhou'd have got Footing, among People, who never Subſcrib'd, to an Opera.—The whole Term of ſuch Mourning is included within Fourteen Days: And the Ceremony conſiſts of Cries, which are modulated by the Tunes of Muſical Inſtruments; and accommodated (with a certain Equitable Dexterity) to the Eaſe of the Performer, and more lively Entertainment of the Audience; by large, intermediate, Pauſes, during which they drink Brandy, and ſmoke Tobacco, 'till their Spirits are duly rais'd, to expect when the Muſick begins again, for another Act, of the Obſequies.

BUT, above all their agreeable Cuſtoms, I contemplate, with moſt Reverence, the vaſt Extent of their Charity! There is, in it, an uncommon Profoundneſs; and a Tenderneſs of Heart, beyond Example!—It is a Practice, among the Rich Negro Ladies, on the Gold Coaſt, to give Orders, on their Death Beds, for buying up a Number of Female-Slaves, to beſtow on the Publick, as Living Legacies, whoſe whole Buſineſs it is, to be at Every Body's Service, in One ſole Employment, (which they are, All, equally, capable of) for the Price of Three Periwincle-Shells.—They conſider This, as a Work, of great Mercy, and Compaſſion; and, conſcious of their [163] pious Purpoſe, cloſe their Eyes, and die, ſatisfied.

I COU'D add an infinite Variety of ſuch uncommon Commodities as Theſe: But the Foregoing will ſerve, as Samples, of what Rich Goods may be imported, for the Uſes, which my Correſpondent hints at, if, in Right of her ſelf, and the Ladies ſhe acts for, ſhe cou'd propoſe any Scheme of Engraftment, by vertue whereof, the Aſſiſtants of the Royal Company might cooperate with the Siſterhood.

IT is not to be queſtion'd, but, when ſuch a Scheme comes to be ſeen, the Directors of ſome other, of our more thriving Societies will ſtir againſt it, out of Envy, and propoſe their own reſpective Bodies, as moſt Capable of, or more adapted to, the mention'd Incorporation. But the Ladies will, I hope, have Honour enough to keep cloſe to their firſt Engrafters: And, leaſt their natural Diſpoſition to think too meanly of Themſelves, and their own Reaſonings, ſhould expoſe them, without Defence, to the Force of Arguments, they cannot Anſwer, I will conclude this Eſſay for their Service with the Example of a ROYAL AFRICAN; His Majeſty, the King of Boffoe; who, when his Conſcience was a little puzzled, brought himſelf off, by his Reſolution.

[164]KING Yagou, the abovemeant, was a Lover of the Female Sex; but being a Prince of great Frugality, contented himſelf with Ten Wives only, when many of his Subjects had Forty; and out of that ſmall Number, of Ten, would, now and then, for mere Good Husbandry, beſtow One, on his Son, Jooſt.—A Portugueze Fryar, to whom he was boaſting of theſe Great Qualities, repreſented to him the Wickedneſs of the Action; and aſſured him, That no civiliz'd Part of the World allow'd it.—At which, he laugh'd, very heartily, and return'd him this Anſwer—Muſt I be a Fool, becauſe the White Men of your Country, are Fools?—My People are better inform'd;—and we act, in both Places, according to our different Underſtandings!

The Plain Dealer. No 77.
MONDAY, December 14. 1724.

[165]
Miſce ſtultitiam Conſiliis brevem.
HOR.

I REMEMBER a Paſſage, in ſome Eaſtern Writer, which carries a ſharp, and inſtructive, Moral. An Emir, of great Sanctity, had a Cuſtom, every Night, to call his Family together, that they might ſit round him, with due Gravity, to hear his Son read ſome Chapter of the Alcoran, which the Father would take Pleaſure in opening, and enlarging on, to his Domeſtick Congregation. It happened, one Night, that, in the midſt of the Sermon, the whole Audience fell aſleep; except the Preacher, and his Son: Which laſt, aſſoon as he obſerv'd it, interrupted his Father, with this Remark.—See, Sir, the Fruits of your Good Purpoſe! There is not one, of them All, but ſleeps, as ſoundly, as if God's Word deſerv'd no Reverence!—The Emir look'd round the Company, and ſhutting up his Spectacles, in the Book, againſt a fitter Opportunity, drew his Diſcourſe to a [166] Concluſion, with this Reply, to his Son's Intelligence—You had, your ſelf, been better employ'd, in adding One to the Number of Sleepers, than in waking, not ſo much to correct your own Faults, as to obſerve the Faults of Others.

I receiv'd a Letter, the other Day, which brought this Story to my Remembrance, and is one Proof, among many, how difficult a Province he undertakes, who aſſumes the Office of a PLAIN DEALER, at a Time, when People are ſo vigorous, in the Cenſures, which they make Themſelves; and ſo languid, in their Approbation of Thoſe, which others make, with the ſame Liberty!

The Author of this Letter is, ſo kind, as to let me know, ‘"He is one of my Beſt Friends; he will not therefore inſiſt on my Diſingenuity, to fall foul of—a ſingle Sentence,—in one of my late Papers; and, dwell on one Error, in a voluminous Author: But he is ſo good as to be in Pain for my Veracity; having carefully (he ſays) examin'd every ſingle Paragraph of Mr. Trapp's Preface to his Tranſlation of Virgil, and not being able to diſcover, what I charge him with.—He cloſes all, with a Hint, that he writes, in Vindication of that worthy and Reverend, Author; and would not have Offence taken at every Trifle."’

THE VERACITY of the PLAIN DEALER being the Side he will be ſure [167] to be moſt defenſible on, it was unskilfully done, for a Lover of the Muſes, as my Correſpondent ſubſcribes himſelf, to bring on his Attack, ſo raſhly, on that Quarter.—He ought, firſt, to have been very careful, and confirm'd, in his Diſcoveries.—But, to remove the Cloud from his Sight, if he pleaſes to turn to Page 382, of the firſt Volume of the mention'd Tranſlation; in an Eſſay, on moving the Paſſions, previous to the Remarks on the 4th Book, he will find a Paragraph ended thus,—We have not—as—yet—indeed—completed the Explication, propos'd:—For ſomething—more—ſtill—remains—behind.—If this differs from what it appear'd in my Paper, it is only by being a little worſe than I made it.

THUS much, to the Charge, in that only Part, which carried any Appearance of Reaſon with it.—The other Articles have no Weight, at all, but from the Regard that is due to a miſtaken Good-Nature; which has miſled the Gentleman, whoever he was, to apprehend, as a Trifle, an Error of the firſt Magnitude, in Writing.—It is certainly the Buſineſs, and the Aim, of every Author, to explain, and illuſtrate, his Argument: But this tedious Redundance obſcures, and perplexes it.—Where a Man ſhould imprint Idea's, he diſtracts and erazes them: And, inſtead of awakening the Paſſions, affects the Spirits with Drowſineſs.—Such a TRIFLE is this Fault, which my Correſpondent is for [168] paſſing over, with ſo tender-hearted a Blindneſs!

THE cenſur'd Paſſage, then, is no Error, of ſuch ſmall Importance, as the Animadvertor had thought fit to imagine; but he falls, next, into another Miſtake, of conſidering it, as a Place, pick'd out by the Inquiſition of a malicious Eye: Whereas (if he had been as attentive to the Argument, of the Paper, where he found that Cenſure, as he was to the Cenſure Itſelf) nothing would have been more eaſy, than to have obſerv'd Numbers, of the ſame Kind of Amplifications, which might, with equal Effect, have been borrow'd from that work: And, thence, he muſt have drawn this natural and obvious Concluſion.—That one Error, only, was dwelt on, not becauſe it was all that could be found, but becauſe it was all, that could be admitted in that Paper.

AS to the Worthineſs, or Reverence, of the Author, the Letter-Writer himſelf can wiſh no leſs Ill to him, than the PLAIN DEALER does. But this is a Matter entirely out of the Queſtion. The Perſon has nothing to do, where what he has written, and publiſhed, is the Ground of the Argument.—For a Friend, Partiality is Weakneſs: And, againſt an Enemy, it is Baſeneſs. The Merit of a Cauſe lies above the Level of ſuch low Motives; and they, who would reach it, as they ought, muſt be liſted in their Attempt, between Juſtice and Reſolution.—There is [169] nothing, which the PLAIN DEALER has a ſincerer Deteſtation of, than Perſonal Reproach or Defamation: But then, on the other ſide, he who dares not ſpeak out openly, whenever Occaſion offers it ſelf, concerning the Miſcarriages of the Greateſt Men, or the Vertues of the moſt Unproſperous, has a Soul, below the Duties, of one, who writes, that he may deſerve Reading.

BUT, to make a Tranſition to a Subject, which I have, for ſome Time (in vain) been expecting an Opportunity to reſume, with a Spirit leſs ludicrous, than That, in which I touch'd it, not long ſince: I am rais'd, to ſuch a Height of Wonders, by the triumphant Poſture, in which the Wit of this Generation is viſible, almoſt every Night, at one or other of our Theatres, in the Genius of our Actors Limbs, that there is nothing, which I cannot promiſe my ſelf, from the Readineſs of their Elaſtick Capacity; and the Humour, which the Town is in, of liſtning, to the Voice of their Muſcles!

I HAVE noted, for this Reaſon, what I diſcovered, not without due Tranſport, as I was peruſing a certain Venerable HIGH GERMAN Compiler, (CAMERARIUS his Hiſtorical Meditations!)—It is a new, and unbroken Mine, of Theatrical Treaſure! which I ſhall recommend, with the ſtronger Hope, to the Contention of our Rival Stages, becauſe, the never-to-be-forgotten, the Triumphant FAUSTUS HIMSELF was of Happy High German Original!

[170]

I HAVE oftentimes, ſays this Grave and Authentick Sage! (for I reverence him too much to vary a Word, from his Text) ſeen, with wondering, in the Prince of Bamberg his Court, a certain Peaſant of Germany, nouriſhed, and brought up, as himſelf avouched, in the Mountains, among Beaſts; who was ſo active, and nimble, of his Body, that all that ſaw him were aſtounded, and thought he uſed Enchantment, which, yet, I do not, verily think he did!—And that, which was moſt remarkable in him was, That he ſhewed his Agility, not ſtanding, but walking upon his Hands, and his Feet, prone and flat-back'd, like a Dog, or a Cat!

IN that ſame Court, was a Dwarf, who would get up, upon this Peaſant, as upon a Horſe; making him to turn, and wind, all manner of Ways, as a Rider would do a Spaniſh Genet; But, when the Peaſant liſted, he wou'd eaſily throw his Dwarf, for all that ever he could do to ſit faſt.—Sometimes he was baited, with very mighty Maſtives, and with Engliſh Dogs, that the Prince had: And, by a certain Barking, which he counterfeited naturally, and a furious ſnarling, like a Dog, would give them the Chaſe, and make them run apace, out of the Hall.—That done, he would ſet himſelf to leap, upon his Hands, and Feet, forwards, and backwards, with a [171] Nimbleneſs incredible! and would ſcramble up, by the Coines, towards the Roof of the Hall, faſter than an Ape could do! albeit, otherwiſe, he was a ruſtical Fellow, heavy, and of a groſs making.

I SAW him twice, as I was at the Prince's Table (after he had thrown his Dwarf) and driven away all the Dogs that were in the Room) leap upon the Shoulders of one of the Gueſts, and thence upon the Table, without overturning Diſh, or Cup: And then caſt himſelf with ſuch a Spring upon the Floor, that one would have ſaid, It had been a Squirrel, or ſome wild Cat.—He did uſe to skip as faſt upon the Tops of Towers, and of Houſes, built Point-wiſe, as our Houſe-Cats would do: And ſo many other PARTS of a Cat, and an Ape, HE PLAYED, that his Tricks were the Talk, and the Wonder of all Men!

I WAS ſo pleas'd with this Fancy, that I could not forbear communicating it, for the future Entertainment of our People of Faſhion: And I am ſo firmly convinc'd of the imitative Spirit, and Genius of the Hoſtile Harlequins of the Two, Comic, Houſes, that I queſtion not, in the leaſt, but by the Second Week, after Chriſtmas, we ſhall ſee a Dozen, or two, of Bull-Dogs round the Tail of Shepherd, on Drury-Lane-Stage, without being able to bite him, while he curvets and barks with his Back up, and wheels ſafe, in their [172] Center;—And Mr. LUN, at the other Houſe, crawling up the Edge of one of his Scenes, and ſticking to the Roof, like a Spider over the Heads of a ſhouting Pit! where he will ſpin himſelf into their good Graces, 'till their Necks are half broke, with the Sublimity of their Entertainment!

The Plain Dealer. No 78.
FRIDAY, December 18. 1724.

Quo me cunque rapit Tempeſtas, deferor Hoſpes.
HOR.

LIKE, a Ship that is compell'd, by Tempeſt, to decline, from her due Courſe, I am, ſometimes, driven out of my Way, by the Letters of my Correſpondents; None of which beat ſo violently upon me, as Thoſe from the Feminine Quarter.

I BEGIN to find it Impracticable to work any Good, on that perverſe, and malapert, Sex, by the Weight of Age, and Experience.—If I had not confeſs'd, at my firſt ſetting out, that I was, then, in my Grand Climacterick, I am verily perſuaded I might have [173] apply'd my ſelf to them, with more Succeſs.—Under their Senſe of my Weakneſs, they deſpiſe the wholeſomeſt of my Lectures; and go on, in open Defiance of the utmoſt I am able to do to them!—Not a Day paſſes, but I have new Intelligence brought me, of their perſiſting in Miſchiefs, and Enormities, which reach, and involve, all Men, from the Canopy to the Cottage.

THE Epiſtles, which this Paper ſhall be fill'd with, will be ſome ſmall Proof, how hard a Task he takes upon him, who would oppoſe himſelf againſt an Influence, which bears down every Thing before, it!—In fine, I ſee there is much more han I once imgain'd, in this Obſervation of an honeſt Mahometan. Five Things, in the World, will always be found uſeleſs: A Candle, in the Sun-ſhine.——Beauty before the Blind.—Rain, that falls, in a Deſart.—A Feaſt, to thoſe who have no Stomach.—And, Sage Advice, when it is given to a Woman, who has no Inclination to follow it.

To the PLAIN-DEALER.

Oh! Prodigious!

FLESH and Blood can bear it no longer! Twenty, and Twenty, Times, I have been provok'd at you, before; But, in your Paper, of laſt Friday, there is ſuch an intolerable Piece of Impudence! ſuch an Affront to the whole Sex! that it is not [174] poſſible for us to live, ſilent.—MANUFACTURE, quoth he? A Woman a MANUFACTURE!—Had you call'd us Products, or Merchandize, or Things, or Commodities, we could have born it, with ſome Patience: But, MANUFACTURE inſults us, with an abominable Inſinuation, That we are but the WORK of our Women's Hands! like a Machine, that is Empty, in its Inward Parts, and whoſe Value conſiſts, not in the Matter it is made of, but in the Curioſity, with which they pin it together!

OH, that ſome Body would direct me, how to find out Mrs. Patty Amble!—If I don't do your Buſineſs, there, never truſt Woman more.—I'll warrant, ſhe ſhall die, a Spinſter, rather than put herſelf under your MANUFACTURING; moſt facetious PLAIN DEALER!—And, ſo, no more, at this preſent Writing, but that I am, with a great Deal of Truth and Obligation,

Any Body's, rather than yours, PRISCILIA SPARKLEY.

THE two next LETTERS (the Firſt from a Lover in low Life, writ in ſimple Honeſty of Heart; and the ſecond in a Strain, and from a Condition, very different) having really been ſent me, in one, and the ſame, Day; I publiſh them, as a Proof, that All Degrees, and Capacities, ‘Sink in the ſoft Captivity together.’

[175]
Mr. PLAIN DEALER,

I AM like a Man, in the middle of a Bogg; the more he ſtruggles to get out, the Deeper he ſinks in.—To tell you the Truth, I am in Love: Only I am but an Apprentice, and have not ſerv'd quite Four Years of my Time.—Therefore, what I wou'd deſire, of you, is, to learn me how I ſhall be able to have done Loving: For, 'till that is brought about, I ſhall never mind my Buſineſs.—And my Fear is, That my Mind being half towards Love, and the other half towards Buſineſs, that, between Both, I ſhall gain Neither. And what is a Man without a Buſineſs?

My Caſe being, therefore, of great Importance, and my Livelihood depending on my Buſineſs, I do not, at all doubt, but that, when you have taken it into Conſideration, it will, likewiſe, be of great Benefit to many Hundreds, beſides myſelf.—Good Mr. PLAIN DEALER, pardon This, my Preſumption; and be pleaſed to correct what I have writ amiſs, being not right in my Senſes.—But tell me what I had beſt do: For one had better be an humble Servant to a whole Army, than be, what I am forc'd to write myſelf,

CUPID's Slave.
[176]
SIR,

WHEN I read the Letter, in one of your late PAPERS, ſign'd Amanda, I was but too well aſſur'd of its Author. That Delicacy of Sentiment, and beautiful Propriety of Expreſſion, alas! how how often have they charm'd me! Never was Eloquence ſo perſuaſive.—Never was Eloquence ſo vain!—While ſhe begs me to deſiſt, in ſo Enchanting a Manner, I am only ten Times more her Slave—Her Repulſes, like the Struglings of a beautiful Virgin, ſerve but to heighten her own Charms, and inflame the Deſire of the Raviſher.

I know, Rochefocault ſays, If a Man fancies, he loves his Miſtreſs for her own Sake, He is mightily miſtaken.—But, alas! He never ſaw AMANDA. Heaven be my Witneſs, if I thought, that in thoſe exquiſite Raptures, which I hope, one Day, to owe her, ſhe would not be an Equal Sharer, by all thoſe Hopes, I ſwear,—ſharp, killing, Thought! I ſwear, I wou'd Foregoe her.—With ſo ſincere, ſo diſintereſted, ſo artleſs a Paſſion, I am,

AMANDA's Everlaſting Lover.
[177]

To the PLAIN-DEALER,

SIR,

IF you wou'd do a Piece of Service to the Young Men of the World, whoſe warmeſt Ambition it is, to recommend themſelves to the FAIR, without conſidering what Vertues, They, whom they love, are poſſeſs'd of—Let me give them, through your Means, the following true Relation.

Olivia is a Lady, of genteel, and faſhionable Education; for her Mother took early Care to ſhew her the World, as they call it: That is, To teach her, through the moſt contrary Appearances, to intend Nothing, but her Pleaſure, and Intereſt.—Pamphilio is a Gentleman, of good Eſtate, in the Neighbourhood.—The Lady's Reputation was unſullied, He ſaw her often; and, every Time he ſaw her, ſaw new Marks of her Wit, and Good Humour; her Freedom and Sincerity; 'till from admiring, he fell to adoring her.

HIS Love was inflam'd, by the little, innocent, Encouragements, which Olivia knew how to give, without incurring the Imputation of Forwardneſs: and which Pamphilio regarded, as ſo many modeſt Overtures, to the Advantage of his Paſſion.—His Viſits were more frequent, and more open. He could, no longer, conceal his Love; he declar'd it, at once, to, both, [178] Olivia, and her Mother—for her Father was dead: And they, Both, gave him Hope, of ſucceeding, in his Wiſhes.

Pamphilio's Affection growing ſtronger and ſtronger; he became impatient for their Marriage; in the near Proſpect of which, all the Neighbourhood rejoyc'd, and did their Utmoſt to advance it. For they obſerv'd, how his Soul doated on her; and darted itſelf into his Eyes, whenever ſhe approach'd him.—Olivia declin'd marrying.—She was too young, ſhe ſaid, to be Miſtreſs of a Family; and inſiſted on a Year more, in which ſhe might fix her Reſolution.—Tho' this Year, to Pamphilio, was a Lover's Eternity, he was to ſubmit, on any Terms; and the Time, requir'd by Olivia, at laſt, drew near its Concluſion.—The Lady, then, grew cooler, and the Lover more tranſported.—She declar'd to him, very frankly, That It was impoſſible for her to love him.—Neither Love, ſhe ſaid, nor Hatred, were Things in our own Power: And he ought not to take it ill, that ſhe cou'd no longer deceive him.

POOR Pamphilio had no Voice to reply. But a ſudden Tear, or two, ſpoke for him!—He trembled, grew pale, and gaz'd on her—and ſigh'd, at length this faint Hope—That ſhe cou'd not, ſure, be in Earneſt.—She anſwered, He had no Reaſon to give himſelf the Air of ſo much Surprize.—She had never promis'd him Marriage,— [179] and was, yet, at her own Diſpoſal.—Pamphilio, bow'd, and left her; and has, alſo, left Society. He ſhuns all his former Companions: And is ſunk, in the deepeſt Melancholy! His Affairs are neglected, his Health is deſtroy'd; and his Friends are enrag'd and aſtoniſh'd!

ABOUT a Quarter of a Year ago, Olivia was married: and with ſo extraordinary a Succeſs, that her Relations are already upon ſuing out a Divorce.—What ought to render the Condition of this Lady Inconſolable, if ſhe has either Generoſity, or Reflection, is,—That Her hard Fortune afflicts Pamphilio, to a ſharper Degree than His own did!

SUCH a Jilting Temper, may, perhaps, be conſiſtent with Chaſtity, but it can have neither Honour, nor Tenderneſs.—She was form'd to inſpire Love, and very capable of it, by Nature: But ſhe was harden'd, by Education, to become unſuſceptible of it.—She expos'd Charms to Sale, which ſhe intended not to part with: And, then, like a covetous Tradeſman, who has loſt his beſt Market, ſhe reſolv'd, as a pretty Revenge, to throw herſelf away, upon the Firſt Bidder.

Yours, PAMPHILIOPHILUS.

The Plain Dealer. No 79.
MONDAY, December 21. 1724.

[180]
Incertam fruſtra Mortales funeris horam
Quaeritis,—
PROPERT.
Tum vero in curas Animum diducimus omnes.
HOR.

I NEVER met with any Accident, which more touchingly ſurpriz'd me, than the Death of my Friend, Sir Portly Rufus, under Circumſtances, with Regard to his Fortune, much inferior to the Figure, he had maintain'd in the World; and which made ſuch Impreſſions on his departing Soul, as ſerv'd, at once, to excite my Pity, and inflame my Admiration.

I VISITED him, during his Sickneſs, and found his Family in great Diſorder: The chearful Faces, which were formerly worn, by his Servants, as the lively Signals of his Hoſpitality, were quench'd, and ſadden'd by a Sorrow, that prov'd its Deepneſs, by its Silence.—He was fallen into a forc'd Sleep, [181] when I came down to his Houſe in the Country; and it being late in the Evening, I went to Bed, with a Reſolution not to diſturb him, 'till the Morning.—I lay awake, and heard the Clock ſtrike One, indulging my Thoughts, under the Solemnity of the Midnight Darkneſs, with a Thouſand buſy Reflections, on the Inſtability of our Health and Pleaſures; when, from an Old Tower of the Pariſh-Church, which was almoſt contiguous to my Chamber-Window, I heard the Toll, of a Great Bell, ſound out, many Times, diſtinctly, with a deep, and mournful Fullneſs, which left an unuſual Vibration in the Air; and had ſcarce ceas'd, when I found the whole Family alarm'd; and the Houſe fill'd with Shriekings, and the moſt diſtracted Cries of Sorrow.

I ROSE, and dreſs'd my ſelf, in much Amazement; and, following the Clamour, found it, collected in the Sick Man's Chamber:—I was aſſur'd, at the crowded Entrance, That Sir Portly was a Dying Man.—That the Bell, which had toll'd out, at Midnight, always did ſo, of it's ſelf, before every Death, that was to happen, in the Family:—That it was a Warning, which had never fail'd:—And, That Sir Portly, who had been wak'd, by the Sound of it, was, himſelf, of the Opinion, That he could live but a few Hours.

I FOUND my Friend, ſitting up, in his Bed, very faint, and ſcarce able to ſpeak; and looking round him, with a Mixture of Wildneſs, and of Sorrow, on the Diſtraction [182] of his Aſſembled Family.—As ſoon as he ſaw me near him, He gave me his Hand, with a Glimpſe of Chearfulneſs, which ſeem'd to brighten, through his Anguiſh: And, inſiſting, with much Earneſtneſs, That I ſhould be left, for ſome Time, alone, with him, the reſt withdrew, and I ſat near him, on the Bed-ſide.—He continued ſilent, for ſeveral Minutes, fixing his Eyes on me, very ſtedfaſtly, and with much inward Commotion; till at laſt he ſpoke to me, as follows.

YOU have tim'd this Viſit, kindly; for it is the Laſt, you will ever make me: It is a ſenſible Comfort, that I have this Opportunity to communicate my dying Sentiments, to a Friend, who will be capable of doing me Juſtice, where the World may ſpeak of me with a miſtaking Liberty—

HERE he put a Key into my Hand, and directed me to find a Paper, which I have now in my Poſſeſſion; and from the Subject of which, I ſhall take Occaſion, ſome Time hereafter, to draw more Obſervations than One, for the Uſe of Men of Buſineſs, who may receive Entertainment, and Advantage, from it.—He ſaid ſomething, concerning his Private Affairs, in which my Advice he believ'd, might be of Service to his Family: And, then aſſum'd a Diſcourſe, on the Tolling of the Pariſh Bell, and proceeded in it with much Compoſure.

[183]

I HAVE neither Learning, ſaid he, nor Leiſure, to enter upon an Examination, concerning the Cauſes of theſe Praeter-Natural Notices. It is enough for me, that It is thus: And you will ſoon be convinc'd of the Conſequence, with Regard to my approaching End.—But, Let not any Thing, ſo common as Death, be an Affliction, or Surprize to you. I have enjoy'd my Bed of Sickneſs, like a Study. It has given me an Opportunity of retiring into my ſelf, without Partiality or Interruption!—The Danger of my Condition drew a Curtain betwixt the World and me, and contracted all my Buſineſs into the Compaſs of this ſilent Chamber. Here I have ſeen Things, as they are, and learnt to judge of them, without Prejudice.

TO forſake the World, gives me no Pain, from any Attachment to its Pleaſures. It can tempt me with Nothing New; for I have, already, ſeen it all.—Though I die (as I ſhall) to Night, To-morrow will be like to To-day: The ſame Sun will riſe upon it; and leave it, in the ſame Darkneſs.—The Seaſons will come round again, and be call'd New; but they will be no other than the Repetition of what I have, ſo often beheld already.—Why ſhould it ſtartle me, to be call'd back to the Place, from which I came hither? I roſe, from Uncertainty, into Life; and I am now but returning, out of Life, into Uncertainty. Can any Thing [184] be more reaſonable, than that Others having given Place to Me, I ſhould give Place to others, in my Turn?—Either I have not made the proper Uſe of Life, which I have enjoy'd ſo long already, and therefore deſerve to hold it no longer: Or, having reap'd the Profit of Living, to what End ſhould I wiſh Life lengthen'd?

I HAVE many Hopes, 'tis true, which, it grieves my Soul, to leave imperfect: But, if I would live, 'till I am compleatly Happy, I ſeek what is never to be found. It were to act, like thoſe fooliſh Indians, who run themſelves out of Breath, to catch the Sun, when it ſeems to ſet, ſo near them:—So might I travel on, for ever, and weary my ſelf, to no Purpoſe: The Object of my Purſuit is not in the ſame World, where I am!

YET there is one Thing, which makes Death terrible, and triumphs over Reaſon, Reflexion, and Philoſophy! It is, That we are torn from our Friend's Society.—That we are divided, by, perhaps, an Everlaſting Separation, from what Love has made dearer to us than our Life is! It is that Blending,—That Liquefaction—or Confuſion, of Two Hearts, in one Will, Deſire, and Intereſt, which is the Spirit of all human Bleſſings! Light is Darkneſs, without it; and Proſperity not enjoy'd, but poſſeſs'd, without Reliſh.

[185] IN this View, of our Soul's Union, here on Earth, with ſome kindred Spirit, which it delights to mingle with, Death is dreadful, when it ſtrikes between us!—How many unfiniſh'd Purpoſes may it interpoſe it ſelf, to the Diſappointment of, with Regard to the Comfort, or Service, of Thoſe, who are thus Dear to us, when we are cut off, by a ſudden Summons, and allow'd no Time to compleat our yet but intentional Gratitude, or give Perfection to our unripen'd Labours! Can a Husband ſit Eaſie within, when he is ſtraining his dying Eyes, for the laſt, afflicting, Sight of a Wiſe, who deſerv'd his Tenderneſs, and was intitled to his Protection; but, whom he is, that Moment, compell'd to leave, to ſtruggle with the Bitterneſs of Want; and acquaint herſelf with the Licentiouſneſs of Reproach, Contempt and Inſult!—Or can there be a Strength, in Wiſdom, to ſuſtain a dying Father, whoſe Heart is tortur'd with the burning Uncertainty, of what ſhall become of his helpleſs Children, expos'd Orphans, to an unpitying World, without Guide, Support, or Proſpect?

HERE, my Friend was interrupted, by the Impatience of his Family, who broke in upon us, with a Grief, which ſoon appear'd to have too juſt a Ground: For Sir Portly died, in leſs than a quarter of an Hour after.—There were many Circumſtances, in the Manner [186] of his Death, which will deſerve to be deſcrib'd, in a future Paper: But the melancholy Impreſſion they have left me under, will at preſent be beſt indulg'd by an Abſtract of ſome Excellent Verſes, from a POEM of Mrs. ELIZABETH SINGER's, on the Death of Her Husband.—I am not ſure, that I remember them right; for it is long, ſince I read them: But there is ſo much of Beauty, Nature and Paſſion, in them, that the Reader cannot fail to diſcern, and admire, the Author's Genius, through whatever Injury they may have ſuffer'd, by any Injuſtice, I may, perhaps, have done them.

IN what ſoft Language ſhall my Thoughts break free,
My dear Alexis! when I talk of Thee?
Nor Nymph, nor Grace, of all the fancied Train,
Nor weeping Loves, ſhall aid my penſive Strain:
True Paſſion has a Force, too ſtrong for Art;
She needs no Muſe, who can invoke her Heart.
Taſteleſs of Forms, and from all Comfort torn,
The Husband—Lover—and the Friend,—I mourn!
All, that to Worth, and Tenderneſs, was due;
Whate'er Exceſs the fondeſt Paſſion knew,
I felt!—My Pray'rs to Heav'n, were, All, for Thee:
And Love inſpir'd me, firſt, with Piety.
Oh! Thou wert all my Triumph, and my Pride:
My Hope, my Peace, my Shelter, and my Guide!
Thy Love (ſweet Study!) buſied all my Days:
And my full Soul's Ambition was Thy Praiſe!
[187]
Why has my Heart this fond Engagement known?
Or, why wou'd Heav'n diſſolve the Tye, ſo ſoon?
Whence had the Charmer all his Power to move?
Or, why was all my Breaſt ſo turn'd, for Love?
Oh! he cou'd talk!—'Twas Extaſie to hear!
The liſt'ning Soul hung, trembling, on the Ear.
Muſick's whole Power dwelt, artleſs, on his Tongue;
Awefully ſoft, like ſome kind Angel's Song!
Pain, that but heard Him ſpeak, was charm'd to Reſt:
And Mercy melted down the Miſer's Breaſt!
Hours, Days, and Years, unheeded, took their Flight:
For Time was only meaſur'd by Delight!
Fancy, ſtill, paints him, freſh, in every Grace;
But, the thin Shade eludes my loſt Embrace:
The ſhrinking Viſion melts, in ſhapeleſs Night,
And a cold Horror blots my blaſted Sight!
Then, the paſt Mis'ery riſes, to my View,
His Death (ſad Scene!) will be, for ever, New!
Then, with the quickeſt Senſe, his Pangs I feel:
And his Laſt Accents o'er my Silence ſteal.
"My Wife!—my ſharpeſt Pain! my fondeſt Care!
"Heav'en, for Thy Sake, will hear a Dying Pray'er:
"Will lead, and comfort Thee, when I am dead;
"When, from theſe aking Eyes, thy Form is fled:
"When theſe cold Hands, which, now, thy Graſp implore,
"Shall tremble, at the Touch of Thine, no more;
"Oh! where ſhall my unſocial Spirit ſtray!
"How, Err, unbleſt, along th' Eternal Way!
[188]"From all Engagements, here, I now am free;
"But That, which keeps my ling'ring Soul with Thee.
"How I have lov'd, thy bleeding Heart can tell:
"And—we MAY meet!—'till which dear Time—Farewell.
He ceas'd—and waiting Angels catch'd his Breath:
And his quench'd Eyes diſſolv'd their Beams, in Death!
But oh! what Words have Paſſion, to expreſs,
What Thought can feel, the Rage of my Diſtreſs!
Why did they tear me from the breathleſs Clay?
I ſhou'd have ſtay'd, and wept my Life away.
Yet, gentle Shade!—where e'er thou now may'ſt dwell,
Where-e'er thy Spirit does the Reſt excell,
If thou can'ſt liſten to my Grief, oh! take
The ſofteſt Vows, that Love, and Truth, can make.
"For Thee, my Thoughts all Pleaſure ſhall foregoe:
"My Tears, for Thee, ſhall ſtream, in ſecret Woe.
"Far, from the buſy World, I will retire;
"Where mournful Mem'ory feeds the ſilent Fire.
"Firſt taught by Thee the nobleſt Flame to prove,
"The Force! the Life! the Elegance of Love!
"Sacred, I will to Thee thy Gift confine:
"Graſp Thee thro' Death,—and be for ever, Thine.

The Plain Dealer. No 80.
FRIDAY, December 25. 1724.

[189]
—Populus me ſibilat, at mihi plaudo.
HOR.

IT has been juſtly obſerv'd, by our Writers, in Defence of the Stage, That It is a GLASS, in which we ſee, what we, ourſelves, are, by the Image of our own Actions, repreſented in the Perſons of Others.—Commend me then, to the Wit, or the Satire, of one of our Theatres, where they have brought Newgate, into their Mirrour, and taught our People of Quality, the elegant Art of breaking Jayl, by Way of Diverſion and Improvement.

TO Treat this Subject, if poſſible, with ſome Appearance of Gravity, either the Taſte of our Audiences muſt be depraved, to a Degree of Horror; or the Judgment of our Maſter-Players corrupted, to a Degree of Pity!—Too long, indeed, have the moſt Succeſsful of our Theatrical Entertainments been Low and Contemptible; but I never obſerv'd, before, That they were Ungenerous, [190] and Inhumane!—What Idea will Poſterity conceive of the Preſent Age, when they ſhall read, among a thouſand living Records, to our Infamy, That our Nobility, and People, of the Firſt Figure, in Life, cou'd deſcend to be Partakers in an Inſult offered to the Memory, and Misfortune, of a poor Wretch, a Felon, who had, juſt before, been Executed, at Tyburn; by ſitting, contented Spectators, to obſerve his Crimes, and his Miſeries, acted over again, for their Delight, and Inſtruction.

BUT, If (as Lucan ſays of Nero) the Gods cou'd make Way for CAESAR, by no other Means than thoſe dreadful Things which preceded him,—If Nothing leſs cou'd induce the Town, to bear with the inſupportable CAESAR in AEGYPT, than their acting it immediately after SHEPHERD in NEWGATE, the Players have, at leaſt, One Good Argument for permitting it:—They made Way too for a Brother's Tragedy, whoſe tender Heart might, have been broke, if he had, twice, write diſmally, to no Purpoſe.—King JOHN, the Dramatick Abortive, of laſt Winter, was a puſillanimous Prince, and cou'd condeſcend to hear Reaſons, why it was neceſſary to ſubmit, for Fear of a forcible Depoſing: But CAESAR was a Hero, and too reſolv'd, to ſhake at Danger!—Tho' all the Serpents, of Africa, ſhou'd have hiſs'd in his Face, he would have regarded them, as little, [191] as he did, the Boxes, the Pit, and the Gallery.

THIS Tragedy is ſo provoking, and copious a Field for Satire, that it is with Difficuly, I reſtrain my Pen, from the ſevereſt Licence of juſt Invectives. But I ſoften my Indignation, when I turn my Eye, from the Play to the Author:—The Exemplary Candor, Humanity, Politeneſs, Affability, and Generoſity, of that Gentleman's indulgent Behaviour, with Regard to the Works and Intereſt of other Writers! But, above all, his prodigious Modeſty! Theſe, his extraordinary and well-known, Virtues, overbalance a thouſand Abſurdities in his Tragedy; and determine me to continue ſilent.

THE Theatre, to confeſs the Truth, is a Subject of too much Conſequence, from its Effect on the Morals, and Behaviour of the Publick, to leave it either decent, or reaſonable, to omit Defects in the Stage's Conſtitution, and deſcend to the Actor's particular Failings.—But we have Perſons on the Stage, who want not ſome Graces, and Generous Qualities, as well of Body, as of Mind, which might have adorn'd, even the Beſt of thoſe Characters, which they are accuſtom'd to repreſent: And of Theſe I ſhall ſpeak ſeriouſly, and with Pleaſure, on Occaſions which will offer themſelves, when I come, in a little Time, to conſider the Preſent State of our Stage, and what Juſtice there may be, in thoſe Pretences to its Improvement, [192] which we have heard ſo very much of, under its Management, as it now ſtands.

BUT, TO return to my firſt Subject: There have not been wanting, publick Marks of Diſapprobation, as often as thoſe ill-choſen Entertainments above-mentioned have been exhibited: Yet, they went on, with an unmoveable Steadineſs of Reſolution, which, in a Cauſe, the Reverſe of theirs, might deſerve to be call'd a Virtue; and, even as the Caſe really ſtands, it is an Accompliſhment, very new, and Extraordinary, and muſt be allow'd not unworthy of the higheſt Admiration!—That heroic Roman Spirit, which Horace ſpeaks of, in the Motto to my PAPER, went no farther than a private applauding himſelf, at home, in Return for the Hiſſes, which he met with, when abroad: But our Engliſh Firmneſs of Face, can look Reproach in the Teeth, and perſevere, with as much Negligence, and Satisfaction, as if we ſuffer'd for our Exceſs of Wit, what is levell'd at our Want of Judgment.

I WAS favour'd many Months ſince, with a Sheet or Two, of Excellent Reflexions, which were loſt, by ſome Accident, and have been but lately recover'd. The following Obſervations, ſeem ſo applicable to my preſent Purpoſe, that I cannot do better than borrow them, for Reproof of a barbarous Cuſtom, which had ſpread itſelf, too broad, among us, before it appear'd on one of our Theatres.

[193]AT Paris, and at Amſterdam, there is ſcarce a Week paſſes, without ſome Publick Execution; and yet, tho' there are News-Papers in Abundance, we ſeldom, or never, find any Account of that Sort, in them.—They think, and perhaps juſtly enough, That it is a Point of National Credit, to conceal, with as much Decency as they can, the Enormities of their Countrymen.—On the contrary, our Writers for the Day, and the Week, watch with Earneſtneſs, for the Opportunity, and are ſure to paſs by no ſuch Subject.—It often makes a very Glaring Paragraph; but is ſometimes unhappily ſcituated. I have frequently known a Change at Court yok'd with a Remove at Tyburn; and both follow'd, cloſe in the Rear, by an Account of ſome Church-Advancement; or new-drawn Matrimonial Tye, among People of Quality.

I ONLY hint at theſe Liberties, and deſire to deal gently with my Contemporaries.—There are other Wretches among us, who attend the Gibbet, like Ravens, or Vultures, and expect their Subſiſtence from it.—Not a poor Criminal can be hang'd, but they break open his expiring Lips, and rob him of his Laſt Words. When he has ſuffer'd the Sentence of the Law, he is condemn'd, afreſh, to a Libel: And is far from being at Reſt, even after he has ſurrender'd his Life to the Halter, his Cloaths to the Hangman, and his Body to the Surgeons! [194] For, then, come the Scribler, the Pamphleteer, and the Biographer of Newgate, who draw out his Good Name, and quarter it; and hang up his Reputation, in Effigie, They give him a Quarto, or an Octavo Shrowd; and fringe, and flouriſh it with his Birth, and Parentage.—Hence, the Ordinary, to preſerve his Perquiſites, is driven upon the Neceſſity of advertiſing againſt Counterfeits; and, has, ſometimes, no better Expedient, than to publiſh the Poſthumous Works of his Communicants, even before they are yet departed!

TO be half-hang'd, has been the Caſe of one or two Sufferers; but to be twice hang'd, is a very great Hardſhip: And when a Criminal's Account of Himſelf is ſuppos'd to be true, it ſeems a Mifortune that They, who wilfully, belye, him, ſhould be permitted to ſurvive him.—If the Sufferer can write and read, then, beſides his Birth, and Education, his Tryal, and Confeſſion, we have his Laſt Works, and Compoſitions. If he is married, we have his Widow's Lamentation. If he dies, troubled, and unſatisfied, we have his Ghoſt: And if his Life has been at all remarkable, we have His Hiſtory, and Adventures.—Some ready Compiler of Newgate, bundles up his Memoirs, and deſcribes his Exploits, in ſo diſcreet, and adapted, Style, That the Pleaſantry of the Relation is more apt to prevail, [195] on the Young, and the Giddy (who are the common Readers of ſuch Tracts) to imitate a Life of ſo much ſeeming Heroick Extravagance, than to take Example, from the fatal End of it.

I KNOW not whether ſuch Expoſing Methods as Theſe, are not ſuffer'd to take Place, by Way of Advance upon the Lenity of our Engliſh Executions; and as a Counterballance to the Foreign Severities of Torture, and Mutilation. If there is any ſuch Depth of Politick Refinement, in the Indulgence, which is ſhewn this Practice, the Dead feel nothing that relates to them; and the Living, I am perſwaded, are very little the better, for ſuch Paper Executions. But, of This, I can venture to be poſitive, That ſhould ſome Drudge for the Bookſeller's Benefit, make a Collection of all Works, of this kind, and ſome mercenary Tranſlator dreſs it out, in a Foreign Language, our Neighbours, and our Poſterity, might be tempted to believe, That the preſent Generation of Engliſhmen were a Nation of Thieves, and Pick-pockets.

The Plain Dealer. No 81.
MONDAY, December 28. 1724.

[196]
Diverſos diverſa juvant, non omnibus—
Omnia conveniunt.—
GAL. ELEG.

IT is a Rule, in Converſation, that he, who keeps all the Talk to himſelf, never pleaſes, ſo much as one, who liſtens, in his Turn, to what is ſaid, by the reſt of the Company.—The ſame Obſervation will hold good, with Regard to ſuch a Paper as the PLAIN DEALER; I muſt, ſometimes, fall civily back, and give Way to my Correſpondents; or I ſhall incur the Reproach of Writing rather to entertain My-ſelf, than to delight, or oblige my Readers.

Mr. PLAIN-DEALER,

I HAVE ſuch a Veneration for the FAIR, that I am ſorry, I ſhou'd have Occaſion to exhibit any Complaint againſt them; but I am, once a Week, ſo whimſically treated, by ſome of them, that I am reſolv'd to ſpeak out, and ſpare not.

[197] THERE are many young Ladies, and, what is worſe, many old Ladies, within the Bills of Mortality, that, every Saturday, while their Houſes are cleaning, take a Fancy to have Buſineſs with Me, for no other Reaſon in the World, but becauſe they can't tell how elſe to diſpoſe of themſelves:—For, you muſt know, That I am a Mercer.—They ſwim into my Shop, by Shoals, not with the leaſt Intention to buy, but only to hear my Silks ruſtle, and fill up their own Leiſure, by putting Me into full Employment. So they tumble over my Goods, and deafen me with a Round of Queſtions, 'till, having found nothing in my Shop, to their Fancy, as they call it, they toſs themſelves again into their Coaches, and drive on the Perſecution, to the Terror and Diſturbance of moſt of the honeſt Shopkeepers, from one End of the Town, to the other.

LAST Saturday was three Weeks, at Two, in the Afternoon, I ſent out my Servant, to watch a Couple of theſe Silken Strollers, and keep, if poſſible, within Ken of them. They undreſs'd about a Dozen Shops, without ſtripping themſelves of a ſingle Shilling; and, at ſix, my Man return'd, out of Breath, and told me, That he had left them, cheapening Sugars, beyond Norton-Falgate.—But, preſently, they came back, and ſaw my next Neighbour, a Linen-Draper, at his Door. They pull'd their Coachman [198] by the Thumb, and broke in upon my Friend and Acquaintance, tho' his Shop was ſhut up, and empty.—They had bethought themſelves, that they muſt ſee ſome Cambricks. My Neighbour knew them, for they were his Cuſtomers of five Years ſtanding; during all which Time, he had never taken any of their Money—But they had done him the Honour, to lean over his Counter, find Fault with every Thing he cou'd ſhew them; Exclaim, at his frightful Prices, and make it a Rule with them, To bid Nothing—He turn'd over his whole Variety of Cambricks; and had the unexpected Good-Fortune, after the prettieſt Doubtings, and Heſitations, in the World, to fix their Determination; for they pitch'd upon a particular Piece, about half an Hour paſt Seven, and order'd him to cut off enough for a Tucker.

The worſt of all This is, That theſe unprofitable Wayward Viſiters keep Buying-Cuſtomers out of our Shops.—Pray, Mr. PLAIN-DEALER, reprimand them, for the Good of Trade; and the Eaſe, and Deliverance, of

Your afflicted Coreſpondent, J. H.
SIR,

A GREAT many uſeful Lectures were levell'd, heretofore, againſt the Enormities of certain Faſhions, which had [199] taken Poſſeſſion of the Female World.—The Reduction of the Stays. The Exaltation of the Petticoat—and the Lightneſs, and the Tranſparency of the Modeſty Peice—(as that SEX had peceluiar Views, in each of theſe Modes) have been Topicks, for Admonition, and Stature.—The LADIES have even been told, That the obſolete Reliques, of their Great-Grandmother's Scare-crow Wardrobes, were leſs Fantaſtical than the modern Whimſies! But thoſe wholeſome Severities ſuffer'd the Comon Fate of ſuch Good Purpoſes, They diverted for a Week, and were forgotten.

ALL Arguments, which would be ſucceſsful, muſt adapt themſelves to the Underſtanding of thoſe in whom they expect to operate.—The WIT of a Woman is her Dreſs. To move genteely, is her JUDGMENT: And, to Govern herſelf, with full Freedom, is her BIRTH RIGHT, as an Engliſh Subject; who renounces, and proteſts againſt, all abſolute, and unlimited, Monarchy.

BUT, pray, whiſper (if you dare) to theſe pretty Free-Thinkers, That there is a a Country, in the World, call'd Turkey; where Women are ſecur'd againſt the Danger of Sun-burning, by being kept out of the open Air, and lock'd up, like other Jewels, in Places where no Miſchief can reach 'em.—A Side-Glance, once a Year, from a Window, or an imperfect Random-Shot, through the Hedge of a Gauze Muffler, [200] is the utmoſt Danger a Man can be expos'd to, in thoſe ſafe and ſilent Regions; where they have an unaccountable, ſavage, Notion, That there is Temptation, in a Woman's Eye, and that it is poſſible for a Pretty Fellow to ſtare himſelf into Fornication!

A LITTLE private Rumination, on ſuch laudable Cuſtoms as Theſe, may have Influence, perhaps, to moderate ſome of our Fine Ladies well-bred Exorbitancies. If not, we have at leaſt this Remedy: It is but to turn Turks, and we new model our Syſtem of Government, with Regard to this Female Freedom.—Such a Reſolution wou'd furniſh Buſineſs, not at all diſagreeable to

Your moſt humble Servant, The Black EUNUCH.
Mr. PLAIN DEALER,

ORACLES have been deliver'd in Dreams, and I ſee no Reaſon why Truth may not be as well nodded over by us Moderns, as by the much more wakeful Ancients.—Our Senſes being too groſs, and our Minds too much prejudic'd, to receive Truth, for its own ſake, it muſt approach us obliquely; that, being couch'd under ſenſible Repreſentations, it may be brought nearer to our View, and make its Way into our Apprehenſion.

[201] UPON this Account, therefore, (not to keep you in Suſpence any longer, leaſt you may think me dreaming already) I have ſent you my laſt Night's Viſion; which if it meets with your Approbation, may encourage me to cloſe my Eyes again; for I am, both ſleeping, and waking,

Your conſtant Admirer, EUGENIO.

AFTER having reflected on my Miſtreſs, and on Marriage, I fell aſleep, and found my ſelf in a Myrtle Grove, where ſeveral Ways ran together into one Great Path, that led to the Temple of Hymen.—The Flowers, moſt of which were Violets, and bleeding Lovers, exhal'd a delicious Odour: And the Birds, that warbled round me, help'd to fill the Scene with Tranſport.

I OBSERV'D Crowds of Travellers, paſſing onward; but none, to my great Surprize, repaſſing.—Upon looking a little nearer, I diſcover'd Troops of flying Boys with Silver Wings, that hover'd before them, for their Guides. There were Perſons of all Ranks, and of both Sexes.

I TOOK particular Notice of ſome, who tho' they ſeem'd to make more Haſte then the reſt, were, at the End, the fartheſt behind-hand. Theſe, I heard, were call'd Coquets, in the Language of the Country. [202] They ſeem'd, to do nothing but ſport, and flutter about; without gaining any Ground, or deſiring to gain any.

THE next, I was told, were Prudes: And theſe had taken a Bye-Path, and mov'd onward, toward the Temple, very ſlowly; and, to all Appearance, unwillingly; with their Necks fantaſtically reverted, and their Eyes looking back, upon the Country, they had newly paſs'd through. Yet Theſe were the Firſt that came up; and ſlipt, ſilently into the Temple!

AMONG the Men, was a Troop, which ſeem'd compos'd of the moſt expert Travellers. My Guide inform'd me, They were call'd Hibernians. They did many Things, I perceiv'd, very differently from the reſt: For, while others led up but one Companion, to the Temple, theſe had ſeveral, in ſeveral Paths; and were the only Perſons, who, after lodging One, went out again, to conduct Another.—It was eaſy to diſtinguiſh them, however mingled in the Crowd, by the Shine of a certain Metal, which had burniſh'd their Cheeks, and Foreheads, and caſt a Gleam, like a Corinthian Vizard.

I WAS call'd off, by a confus'd Noiſe, at ſome Diſtance; and made toward it, as well as I cou'd; but found ſuch an Alteration in the Air, that I cou'd not ſtir one Step, without ſneezing. This was a Troop of Sword-Knots, and Cockades, diſplaying [203] a powerful Inſtrument, that glitter'd much, and was call'd a Snuff-Box. The Scuffle of Tongues was ſo great, that I ſtaid not long, among the Pretty Gentlemen, (for that was the Name they went by) but paſs'd on, to a Part of the Grove, whence there iſſued a delightful Harmony.

COMING thither, I obſerv'd a Number, apart from the reſt, with Harps in their Hands, which they touch'd, with tranſporting Melody. Nine Goddeſſes were mix'd among them: all moſt raviſhingly beautiful! Theſe happy Gentlemen, I found, were the Favourites of the Grove; but they made no Haſte to the Temple; rather wandering up and down, and making Sallies into every Path, with an Air of agreeable Indifference.

I LEFT them, and came up with a Troop of Clowdy, Haughty, and Erect, Movers, diſtinguiſh'd by peculiar Head-Pieces, which, at Diſtance, look'd like Diadems. All the Female Travellers, they chanc'd to meet with, receiv'd their Whiſpers with a kind of Triumph; and liſten'd to them with more Rapture, than even to the Voices of thoſe Divine Muſicians!—This Train was under the Care of two Goddeſſes, whoſe Names were Inſolence and Privilege! I was now within the Sight of the Temple; but taking an Averſion, in my Sleep, to the affected Struttings of this Company, I wak'd fortunately out of my Dream, and reſolv'd to ſend it to the PLAIN-DEALER.

The Plain Dealer. No 82.
FRIDAY, January 1. 1725.

[204]
Segnius irritant animos demiſſa per aurem,
Quam quae ſunt Oculis commiſſa fidelibus, & quae
Ipſe ſibi tradit Spectator.—
HOR.

AN Evil Spirit had taken Poſſeſſion of one of the Villages, in Lapland, and turn'd the Inhabitants into Bears: By which Means, being depriv'd of the Diſcretion of Humane Creatures, and unable to provide for Themſelves; the King of the Country committed them to the Keeping of two or three of his Beef-Eaters; who took the Office, with no other Proſpect, than to live at their Eaſe, on the Perquiſites of it; and were conſequently, more inclinable to provide Diet, to their own Taſte, than to that of the Metamorphos'd Animals, which had been deliver'd into their Cuſtody.—They had, however, ſo much Gratitude, for the Profit, accruing from their Grant, as to reſolve, That the poor Creatures ſhou'd want nothing, that was Strong and Savoury: But they had not [205] the Judgment, to conſider, That a Man, when he becomes a Bear, requires a coarſer Kind of Nouriſhment, than he was accuſtomed to, while a Rational Creature!—They gave 'em nothing to drink but Brandy; and fed 'em with Cock-Broth, and Forc'd-Meats; 'till they, All, grew giddy, and light-headed, and were taken with a dangerous Vertigo.

A YOUNG Shepherd, who had been brought up a little wildly; and, who, by living much among Beaſts, had acquainted himſelf with the Nature of Bears, undertook to Board 'em Cheaper; and built, and open'd, to that End, a New Houſe of Entertainment; where, for the ſame Rates which were paid his Rivals, he treated the Animals, in their own Way, with raw Horſe Fleſh, inſtead of Ragouſts; and Spring Water, in the Place of Brandy.—The Bears were ſtrangely delighted, at a Change, they were, ſo able to reliſh; and flock'd, in Tranſport, to their New Ordinary; where they grinn'd, and grew fat, upon a Diet, which was adapted to their Palates: So that, in a little Time, not a Cub, of any Quality, cou'd make a Meal, upon their Old Commons. And the poor Shepherd, who provided for them, ſo judiciouſly, had all their Cuſtom, for the future, and became Richer, than the King's own Bear-Wards!

[206]How ſuch an odd Story as this came in my Way, I know not; But I will leave it, as I found it: For I am in a Humour to talk of the Theatres.

THE Royal Company of Comedians differs from the South-Sea-Company, the Bank, and other Acting Companies, of this City, in this one Point, among more, That It has Directors, but no Governour.—It is certain, however, that thoſe Gentlemen, whom they call their Managers, have had all poſſible Advantage on their Side. The Court-Authority, and Countenance, went with them.—The Noble, and the Ignoble, join'd in a long, and unreaſonable Partiality, to ſupport them, without Rivals; in direct Oppoſition to the Intereſt of their own Pleaſure; which is, undoubtedly, beſt provided for, when Rival Theatres contend, which ſhall, moſt deſerve Encouragement.—It is worth while, then to examine, how they loſt this Advantage. And I take the Fact to be thus.

THE good Old Patentee, of the New Theatre died, under a Length of Oppreſſion; and left his Right, and his Houſe, to his Son; an Unfear'd, and Friendleſs Youth! of whom it might then have been ſaid, as of Chamont, in the Orphan. ‘His Hopes were all his Fortune!’

HE Open'd, againſt a Tide of Prejudice; and acted many Years, not only, without [207] Favour, but almoſt without Notice, at leaſt from the Faſhionable World.—He try'd every Reaſonable Art of Pleaſing, without Succeſs!—He reviv'd the beſt old Old Plays, and brought on ſeveral New Ones! but had, often the Mortification to oppoſe his own Induſtry, and the ſublimeſt Scenes of Shakeſpear, to the cold Encouragement of Empty Boxes!—What ſhou'd he do, in this Caſe?—The Torrent of Opinion was againſt him. Good Senſe, and ſolid Thinking, were as Uſeleſs to him as his Boxkeepers!—At laſt, by a Quickneſs in his Natural Wit; and a Satyrical Sharpneſs in his Obſervation, He perceiv'd he had nothing to do, if he wou'd have the Game play'd into his Hands, but to lay aſide his Judgment, and abandon Himſelf to his Fancy.

IN Purſuance of this lucky Diſcovery, He compos'd a New Species of Entertainment, which had an infinite deal of Senſe in them; but it was only the Senſe of Seeing.—It is ſcarce poſſible to conceive the Eaſe, which this Reformation of the Stage gave the Bulk of our Genteel Audiences!—They, cou'd, now, laugh out, without Reſtraint; for they were no longer in Danger of being Merry, in the wrong Place! They felt no Weight of Words, which had formerly lain heavy upon their Underſtandings: And, the Burden of their Attention being, ſo commodiouſly, lighten'd, they came, and ſaw, and were ſatisfied.

[208]THE old Managers were indiſcreet enough not only to envy, but to imitate him.—They made That their Choice, which, in their Rival, had been Neceſſity. But, attemping it, with inferior Genius, they appear'd ſo aukward, and ungraceful in it, that they compell'd their partial Admirers to take Notice, That they were excell'd—And, ſo taught 'em, from that Time forward, to believe it probable, That, ſince in one Point, they had, ſo manifeſtly, the Diſadvantage, they might, in Others too, have been rather Fortunate, than ſo Deſerving, as they had concluded them.

THUS, the Young, and Oppreſs'd, became a a Match for the Old and Proſperous.—He has continued, ever ſince to maintain the Ground he won; 'till the Current is, now, turn'd, and diſpos'd to run, in his Favour.

SO far, his Wit has carried him. We are to look out for his Judgment hereafter. But, for my Part, I am of Opinion, That, when he ſhall have toy'd us into Good Humour enough to forgive him a little Reaſon, he will have Courage and Generoſity, to reſtore the Stage to its Dignity; and exchange our Juleps for Subſtantial Diets, as ſoon as our ſick Stomachs ſhall have recover'd Strength enough to digeſt it.—There is ſcarce a ſurer Proof, That a Man has Worth, than the Reſpect, which he ſhews the Worthy: And I was delighted, the other Day, with the Praiſes, in which I heard it told, at an Aſſembly, That the [209] OLD BATCHELOR is, by this Gentleman's Voluntary Offer, to be acted, next Monday, at the Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn Fields, for the Benefit of ſo Learned a Benefactor to the Stage, as Mr. DENNIS.

UPON my expreſſing ſome Concern, That it was not rather a Play, of Mr. Dennis's own Writing, I was inform'd, That the Maſter of that Theatre, who ſought all Opportunities of ſhewing his Eſteem of ſo Excellent, and ſo Injur'd a Judge of Wit, and Learning, had left the Choice of the Play to Mr. Dennis himſelf; who had pitch'd upon the above-mention'd, becauſe it was a Work of his old Friend Mr. Congreve.—I acknowledg'd the Generoſity of the Maſter of the Theatre, and the Modeſty of the Gentleman, whom he treats with ſo well-judg'd a Humanity: But I cou'd not avoid indulging a Fit of talkative Spleen, againſt that Malice or Ignorance, which has more than once, appear'd in the Diſcountenance of ſome Writings, from which the Name of Mr. Dennis, will, long, continue to receive Honour, after his Body ſhall be Duſt and Aſhes!

THE Stupidity which follows Prejudice, has made Thouſands of his Cotemporaries inſenſible of his Great Merit, which, if they allow'd their Reaſon to examine it, they wou'd be charm'd by, and take a Pride to encourage.—The Terror with which young Writers have accuſtom'd themſelves to hear, and to talk of, his Auſterity, and of his Averſion [210] againſt Scriblers, has ſpread abroad a falſe Opinion, that he is Ill-natur'd, where he is only impartial: And, that he is an Enemy to Wit and Learning, while he is only ſuch to the Prophaners of them.

IT is pleaſant to obſerve, to what a whimſical Degree this Dread of Criticks has been propagated; and how far down, into Low Life, we may trace the Effects of our Poet's miſtaken Outcries, who, by giving their Shepherds the Name of Wolves, have taught the Clowns to ſet their Dogs upon 'em, and cut off the Defence of their own Fold. Honeſt Mr. David Cook, the ingenious Bell-Man of Pye-Street-Corner, is, I find, againſt the Opening of the New Year, under terrible Apprehenſions, from the Impreſſions he has been fill'd with of the Dangers, all Good Works are expos'd to.

"Great Sirs! my Muſe has You, her Guardians choſe,
"Againſt the railing Malice of her Foes;
"For, ſhe perceives, theſe well-meant Lines muſt bear
"The CRITICK's Cenſures, who will Nothing ſpare!

I WAS viſiting, where one of honeſt Mr. Cook's GREAT SIRS ask'd him, Why he was afraid of Criticks? and was much edified by his Anſwer—One Mr. Pope, Sir, an ingenious Member, of OUR Fraternity, knows much, of theſe Matters; and has ſaid it, in Print, That

"Criticks proceed, without the leaſt Remorſe,
"Seize on our Fame, and put their Laws in Force.

[211]THO' I ſmil'd at the Turn of this Reaſon for the Fears of ſo ſafe a Muſe as Mr. Cook's, yet I can't help wiſhing, that no great Writer had ever allow'd himſelf to join the common Cry againſt Criticks.—If the Poets have no Art, they are a Race of Contemptible Triflers! and if they have Art, they have Criticiſm.—Whoever is a good Poet, is, and muſt be, Himſelf, a Critick.—To be afraid of a Judge, is the Mark of a criminal Conſcience.—But the ſevere, and manly, Cenſures, which are peculiar to Mr. Dennis's Writings, have encreas'd the Number of his Enemies, by a piercing Sharpneſs, which they carry with them? Such Arguers, if they had liv'd with Cato, wou'd have made War upon that noble Plainneſs, which diſtinguiſh'd, and ſupported, his Character: And refus'd the Reverence, due to his Vertues, becauſe His Manners were not ſupple enough, to fall in with their Notions of Politeneſs.

THE beſt Way to become acquainted with a Writer is, to look for him in his Writings:—His Soul, which is his Nobleſt Self, lives there, and is, there diſcovered.—How often have I remember'd (with Pain, for the Infamy it muſt, one Day bring us) That the moſt generous, and extenſive Deſign, that ever was conceived by Man, with Relation to the Groundwork of Criticiſm, in Poetry, was once, undertaken, by this Gentleman, [212] and a Subſcription for it propos'd, upon the moſt moderate Terms, with ſo diſproportion'd a Succeſs, that after a Year or two's fruitleſs Application, he publiſh'd a Specimen of his intended Work, with an Apology for not proceeding in it: Becauſe, after ſo long a Trial, he had been able to procure no more than Seventy or Eighty Subſcribers, whoſe NAMES he printed, to their Glory! For, they will be read, an Age or two hence, with a Veneration, not unlike That, with which the Athenians engrav'd thoſe of the Three Hundred P [...]triot Greeks, who defended the Streight of Thermopylae, againſt the Fury of the Perſian Army.—So, wou'd thoſe Noble Few have defended the Honour of their Country's Judgment, againſt an Inundation, of Ignorance and Preſumption.

WHAT will make this Fact more wonder'd at, is,—That it happen'd at a Time, when a boundleſs Profuſion of Encouragement was pour'd out, upon all Pretenſions, but Thoſe of Learning, and of Modeſty!—But it will not, I hope, be believ'd, That the Tragedy of APPIUS and VIRGINIA was acted, Three or Four Times, and forgotten, in ſpite of thoſe powerful Paſſions, and ſtrong Pictures of tranſported Nature, which it every where abounds with: Or, that Shakeſpear's CORIOLANUS cou'd be alter'd, by ſuch a Hand as Mr. Dennis's, and ſo ſtrikingly, to its Advantage, and yet brought on, without Succeſs, where Shakeſpear's RICHARD [213] THE THIRD, rack'd, and mutilated, by a barbarous Player, ran into Fame, and Applauſe, and drew Audiences, every Seaſon!

BUT I can never expect Room, in ſuch a Paper as the PLAIN DEALER, to touch the Merits of this Gentleman's Writings, for whoſe Benefit, as above, the Play of Monday next, is to be acted: And, who, now, deſcending apace into the Vale of Years, ought to find his Way made ſmother for him; and loſe Sight of theſe malignant Enmities, which his ſtronger Days have grappled with. There can be no-body, who is a Friend, either to Learning, or Humanity, and who has his Heart in the right Place, but muſt feel a generous Delight, in being preſent, for His Benefit, whoſe whole Life has been taken up, with Eſſays, for the Benefit of Others.—The Brave and the Beautiful, will agree, in a Reſolution, to Shine out, upon this Occaſion, where They will be known to appear in the Cauſe of Wiſdom: And, where, to be ſeen, is to be honour'd, Themſelves, for doing Honour to unrewarded Excellence.

The Plain Dealer. No 83.
MONDAY, January 4. 1725.

[214]
Numquam adeoque pudendis
Utimur exemplis, ut non pejora ſuperſint.
JUV.

I HAVE ſomewhere, met with a Story of one of the ancient Princes, of the Eaſt, I think, it was ANTIOCHUS.—He was hunting, and loſt his Followers; and Night coming on, after a tedious Wandering, over Heaths, and Foreſts he came at laſt, to a little Cottage, where the Poor People were at Supper, and entertain'd him, very chearfully, as a Traveller, who had loſt his way. The chief Subject of their Diſcourſe, was concerning the King, and his Miniſters.—As for the King himſelf, they accus'd him of no Vices.—They ſpoke of him with much Duty; and agreed, That he meant well, and was deſirous of his Subject's Happineſs: But he was not, they ſaid, ſo abſolutely, the Monarch of his Miniſters, as of his People: Submitting his own Senſe of Affairs, [215] and the Authority of his Determinations, to Men of leſs Vertue, and Underſtanding, than Himſelf; and giving Way to Eaſe, and Indolence, while he devol'd the Power of his Office, on Wretches, whoſe Hearts were too narrow, and their Paſſions too violent, to deſerve any Government at all; much leſs That of a Kingdom!

THE King ſaid little to all This; but laid it up, for his Uſe, and Benefit: And, in the Morning, when his Guards, and the Great Men, of his Court, having follow'd the Track of his Horſe, were come to him, at the Cottage, he receiv'd them with this Declaration.—You are miſtaken, if you ſuppoſe, I have been, all Night, out of my Way.—I have ſat in Counſel, with an Aſſembly of the only Honeſt, and faithful Adviſers, I met with, ſince I became your Sovereign. Nor did I ever hear a Word, of the True Condition of my Affairs before I learnt it, in this Cottage.

THE Condition of a Nation, where Minions have their Prince in Pupilage, is ſo vaſtly the Reverſe of Ours, That a Diſcourſe, on ſuch a Subject muſt be forc'd to draw Examples, either from the Hiſtories of Foreign Countries, or from our own, remov'd, far backward.—But, as the Bleſſing of a perfect Health is never better underſtood, and valued, than while he who is ſo happy as to enjoy it, employs himſelf in reading the Symptoms, of ſome dangerous, and dreadful Diſeaſe, ſo the Comfort, which we, Free [216] Britons muſt receive, from a Compariſon, of our own Happineſs, with the Miſery of Others, is an Argument, which convinces me, that no Theme deſerves, more juſtly, the Conſideration of a PLAIN DEALER.

I WILL venture to lay it down, as a Maxim, That, where the Soul of a Miniſter is not Great enough, to overlook, and forgive, and to drown all Perſonal Regards, in the Ocean of his Publick Cares, let his other Vertues, and good Qualities, be never ſo numerous, and ſo ſhining, he will confound his Prince's Intereſt, with his own private Reſentments. Inſtead of healing Diviſions, he will inflame them; and, by a Thouſand paſſionate Extravagancies, draw upon himſelf a Univerſal Hatred; and upon his Sovereign, a Contempt, that is the moſt dangerous of all Motives to Sedition; and, what wiſe Princes have been careful to guard themſelves againſt, by a Spirit, and Activity, which, even where they have not been lov'd, ſerv'd, at leaſt, to make them fear'd; which is the next ſure Anchor of Obedience.

THE Beſt of Princes have had their Favourites: But, it is the eaſieſt Thing in the World to diſtinguiſh the MINION from the MINISTER. The MINISTER is his Prince's Inſtrument; The MINION makes an Inſtrument of his Prince—Under a MINISTER, the common Themes, of all publick Converſation, are his Great Deſigns, for the Ornament, or the Intereſt of the Kingdom—[217] Benevolence, Mercy, Wiſdom, Generoſity, and Magnificence, flow down upon the People, in a Current of new Laws, and Benefits.—On the contrary, under a MINION, nothing is talk'd of, but his Subtlety, his Malice, and his Avarice!—Little Weathercock Artifices, and temporary Shifts, and Expedients, ſtand in Place of a ſteady Policy, and a manly Courſe of Equanimity.—Oppreſſion, Pride, Suſpicion, Faction, Bitterneſs, and Partiality, are the Products of his Influence: And the Law, which ſhou'd be the Meaſure of his Rule, is the Noſe of Wax, to his Ambition!—The MINISTER takes Delight to inquire out Men of Learning, or of Vertue, that his Bounty may raiſe them high enough to ſhine, like Stars, upon his Adminiſtration!—The MINION hates Diſcernment, becauſe he knows himſelf unfit to be look'd into; and, therefore, appropriates Rewards, and Preferments, to the Mercenary, and the Ignorant.—In ſhort, the MINISTER is wiſe; But the MINION is only cunning.

IT is finely obſerv'd by Ariſtotle, in his Diſcourſe concerning Government, ‘"That Monarchy, when its Power is wiſely divided, among diſtinct Counſels, none encroaching on the other's Boundaries, draws into it ſelf all Advantages, which are attainable by any of the Common-Wealth Syſtems: But, is in nothing ſo weak, and unſtable, as in the Folly of partial Kings, who, ruling by their Paſſion, inſtead of [218] their Reaſon, remove Truth out of their hearing, and ſubmit their Will to the Guidance of ſome one, ſole, Director; neither examining Things, Themſelves, nor allowing Others to examine them.’

SUCH a Political Monſter of a MINION, we read of, in the Annals of France, ‘"In the Year Nine Hundred and Nineteen, (ſays the Author, in his Second Book) Charles liv'd, as it were, alone, in Soiſſons; deſpis'd, and forſaken, by his Peers, on Account of one HAGANON, of Laon; a Man, of vulgar Extraction; but who was, ſolely, truſted with the King's Secrets; and without whoſe Concurrence, no Matter of Importance, cou'd be done, either in the Court, or in the Kingdom. But the Credit of this New Upſtart was the Cauſe of the King's Ruin; for the Great Men reſolv'd, at laſt, no longer to endure, that ſuch a baſe Scoundrel ſhou'd be exalted, over the Heads of the whole Nobility.

HAGI-JUSOUF, a Governor of Arabia, under the Reign of Caliph Abdulmelec, met with a Stroke of unexpected Satyre, which gives a lively Repreſentation of the General Odium, theſe buſie MINIONS are always deſtin'd to live under.—He was hated for his Cruelty, and Exactions; but carried, nevertheleſs, an Outſide of Charity and Religion. [219] He met a Dervis, one Day, in the Street; and, having ſtop't, to give him Alms, recommended himſelf to his Prayers.—The Dervis, lifting up his Eyes, to Heaven, cry'd out, with a loud Voice, Take him from us, O Great God! Take him from us, I beſeech Thee!—Hagi-Juſouf was not ſatisfied with the Turn of this Prayer; and began to murmur at the Dervis: But the Holy Plain Dealer replied, with great Earneſtneſs and Humility,—It is good for you, and for All the Muſſulmans.

THE Truth is, there is an unavoidable Neceſſity, that Princes ſhou'd be aſſiſted by ſuch Subjects as they think fit to Favour: But it is happy, where the Maſter has Spirit, and the Servant Moderation: For, in that Caſe, the Miſchief will be either prevented, or corrected, before its Progreſs is become conſiderable.—Opinion, and the Obſtinancy of Reaſoning, have made a mighty Noiſe in the World, concerning the Differences between Arbitrary and Limited Government: But, in the Nature of Things, there is neither Abſolute Power nor Freedom; taking them in their full Senſe.—Every Whale has its little leading Fiſh, and follows it, with a Kind of unweildy Obſequiouſneſs! This, in the Sea, has been thought a Wonder, but few Things, on Land, are more uſual, and familiar.—The moſt terrible, of the State Leviathans, have been manag'd, and led along, by a Wife, a Miſtreſs, [220] a Favourite, or ſome other ſuch dimunitive Pilot: So that in an unlimited Signification, there is no ſuch Thing as Monarchy.

THE Grand Signior it is true, can cauſe any of his Subjects to be Strangled, without aſſigning other Reaſons for it, than his Imperial Will, and Pleaſure. But, how ſeldom is this done, at his own mere Motion; and how often, at that of his Vizier's, and tyrannick Minions?—I my ſelf, (ſays a Writer of the laſt Age) have known ſome Sovereigns, ſo far Strangers to what was convenient, that they wou'd ſcarce grant, or deny, any Thing, out of the Preſence of their Secretary.

THERE is but one Conſolation, which can give Men Patience, while they are ſuffering, under the Inſolence of ſuch Upſtart Tyrants: And that is, their reaſonable Hope, that they ſhall live to ſee the Puniſhment, when the Guilt is ripe enough for Vengeance—It is long, before a Prince can break out of the obſcuring Miſt, which an Evil Counſellor will conjure up, and involve him in—But, when by Accident, or Reflection, he comes, at length, to clear his Eye-ſight, and ſee Things, in their proper Colours, the Minion, then firſt, becomes a Benefit to the People he has injur'd; for he leaves them a Protection, in the Example of his Fall, which may guard them, in Times to come, againſt the Malice of a New Oppreſſor.

[221]THE laſt Emperor of China, was one of the greateſt Monarchs, of his Age, and for nothing more celebrated, than the Vigour, and Strictneſs, of his Juſtice: But he was warm, in his Purſuits of Pleaſure, and impatient of Interruption, when his Mind was intent upon it.—The Viceroy of one of the Provinces, of that vaſt Empire that lay moſt remote from the Imperial City, had wrongfully confiſcated the Eſtate of an honeſt Merchant, and reduc'd his Family to the extremeſt Miſery.—The poor Man found means to travel as far as to the Emperor's Court, and carried back with him a Letter to the Viceroy, commanding him to reſtore the Goods, which he had taken, ſo illegally.

FAR from obeying this Command, the Viceroy put the Merchant in Priſon; but he had the good Fortune to eſcape, and went, once more, to the Capital, where he caſt himſelf at the Emperor's Feet, who treated him with much Humanity, and gave Orders, that he ſhould have another Letter. The Merchant wept, at this Reſolution, and repreſented how ineffectual the Firſt had prov'd; and the Reaſons he had to fear, that the Second wou'd be as little regarded.

THE Emperor, who had been ſtopt, by this Complaint, as he was going, with much Haſte, to Dine in the Apartment of a Favourite Lady, grew a little diſcompos'd, and anſwer'd, with ſome Emotion—I can do no more than ſend my Commands: And, if he [222] refuſes to obey them, put thy Foot upon his Neck.—I implore your Majeſty's Compaſſion, reply'd the Merchant, holding faſt the Emperor's Robe, his Power is too mighty for my Weakneſs: And your Juſtice preſcribes a Remedy, which your Wiſdom has never examin'd.

THE Emperor had, by this Time, recollected himſelf; and raiſing the Merchant from the Ground, ſaid, You are in the Right—To complain of him was your Part, but it is mine to ſee him puniſh'd.—I will appoint Commiſſioners, to go back with you, and make ſearch into the Grounds of his Proceeding; with Power, if they find him guilty, to deliver him into your Hands, and leave you Viceroy, in his ſtead.—For, Since you have taught me how to Govern, You muſt be able to Govern for me.

The Plain Dealer. No 84.
FRIDAY, January 8. 1725.

[223]
Curae leves loquuntur—
SENEC. HIP.

MANY Writers, beſides the Author of my Motto, have obſerv'd, That the Lighteſt Griefs ſpeak loudeſt! And, it is doubtful, whether there wou'd ariſe moſt Occaſion for Mirth, or Pity, cou'd we ſee, at one View, the numberleſs Variety of little Accidents, which are magnified into Miſeries, by the Impatience, with which we kindle ourſelves, upon every unwelcome Trifle, that runs counter to our Wiſh, or Humour; or ſquares not exactly with our Intereſt.

IF People cou'd diveſt themſelves of the Prejudices of Self-Love, half the Vexations, which imbitter Life, and rob Good-Fortune of its Tranquility, wou'd be found to owe their Exiſtence either to our Pride, or our Avarice. But I am afraid, I ſhall touch this Subject, with very little Effect; becauſe I have a Thouſand Times, obſerved, That there is a healing Quality in Vanity, which cures the [224] Wounds of good Counſel. Lady Low-taſte finds SENECA ſo dull, where he lays open a ſordid Heart, and ſhames it, by a Compariſon with the noble Lovelineſs of Generoſity, That ſhe can neither reliſh, nor ſupport him, but falls aſleep, over his Philoſophy, as the readieſt Way to be even with him!—Yet, who ſo lively in her Attention, and ſo tranſported an Admirer of this very Seneca, where he happens to ſpeak kindly, of any Vertue, ſhe is conſcious of, in herſelf; or ſeverely, of of any Vice, which ſhe can charge upon Her Acquaintance!—There are Two Ends to the Glaſs, thro' which we look into ourſelves, and others. One contracts Objects; and one enlarges them: And, it is the pleaſanteſt Obſervation in the World, to remark, how kindly Nature has inſtructed the ſillieſt, and blindeſt, of both Sexes, to apply either End of this Perſpective, ſo as to anſwer their particular Purpoſe, with as much Readineſs, and Sagacity, as if their Wit, were no leſs than it ſhou'd be.

I AM overwhelm'd with Letters of Complaint, againſt Fate, Ill-Luck, Blind Fortune, and the whole Train of malevolent Chimera's, under whoſe Shadow it is uſual to hide the Effects of our own Miſcarriages.—Arietta, a brown Coquette, in her Five and Fortieth Year of Fluttering, has fill'd Three Pages of an angry Epiſtle, Falſehood, Traitor, and Inconſtancy, againſt a Couſin of Ned Volatile's, who lov'd her Four Months, and a Week, [225] and then viſited her no more, upon a private Intelligence from Mrs. Lucy, that his Name was down, in her Lady's Liſt, as the Nine and Fiftieth, of her abſolute Conqueſts!

WHAT ſhall we ſay to theſe inſupportable Misfortunes? They muſt be ſubmitted to, with as much Reſignation as the Nature of them will bear: And, for what remains, I can do no more than provide a little Comfort for ſuch afflicted Vertue, by a Proof, That there are Others, almoſt equally wretched!—If, therefore, Arietta will let me know what Part of the Town ſhe ſhines in, I will wait on her, the Day after, and apply a Letter to her wounded Heart, which I receiv'd from a Druggiſt's Wife, in the City, who had Threeſcore Tickets, in the laſt Lottery, and was ſo ſtrangely Unfortunate, that ſhe clear'd but about Two Hundred Pound, over and above her whole Adventure, tho' an ordinary Creature, over-againſt her, that had but Three Tickets, in the Wheel, cou'd have Two of 'em come out ſuch Prizes, that ſhe ſets up, truly, for a Fortune!

THE following Letter, I am afraid, muſt be number'd amonſt the Curae leves; tho' there is an Air of Concern, and Sincerity, in it, which perſwades me, That the Author is, in good Earneſt, at a Loſs, how he ſhou'd act, in the Buſineſs he writes about.

[226]
Dear SIR,

I CONTRACTED a ſtrict Friendſhip, with a Gentleman: And we liv'd together for ſome Time; during which he fell in Love with a Young Lady, between whoſe Body, and Mind, there ſeems to be a perpetual War, which of the Two, ſhall appear moſt beautiful!—But ſhe was promis'd, by her Relations, to one, whoſe Fortune is much Superior to my Friends.—Yet, he had frequent Opportunity of Diſcovering his Paſſion, but wanted Courage to declare, what he, as much wanted Power to conceal, and, ſo, was forc'd, in Search of Reſt, to retire into the Country.

BUT Abſence, inſtead of leſſening, inflam'd, and rivetted, his Anguiſh.—He return'd to me, in great Diſorder; and delivering a Letter into my Hands, preſs'd me, with the moſt moving Words, and Geſtures, to convey it, privately, to the Lady's.

NOW, Sir, you muſt not ſtart, when I ask you this Queſtion,—Whether I ought to deliver it? The Difficulty lies here—I know, her Relations have a particular Averſion to this Gentleman.—And they are Perſons, to whom I owe a Thouſand Benefits, and Obligations.—My Friendſhip is dear to my Soul,—and my Gratitude is due to my Honour. I wou'd not appear to betray Thoſe [227] who have ſo ſtrong a Claim to my Sincerity.—On the other hand, I was tender of ſhocking the Delicacy, and Refinement, of a Paſſion, ſo ſacred as our Friendſhip. Love is raſh, and diſtruſtful; takes Alarm at every Trifle; and judges haſtily, and without Reaſon. He wou'd conclude, if I refus'd him, That his Peace, and Intereſt, are of no Weight with me.—Wou'd he had thought of another Means of conveying his Letter to the Lady!—But, now, ſhou'd I adviſe him to it, it wou'd look like Coldneſs in his Cauſe; and his Imagination wou'd take Fire, with ſo many falſe Apprehenſions, That he cou'd never preſerve Temper, to conſider, That he has puſh'd me, where there is no Neceſſity for it, on the ſureſt Step by which I can incur the Hatred, and the Reproaches, of a Family, to which I am indebted, for almoſt every Thing, that Fortune favours me in!

IN this Struggle, between the Duties of Friendſhip, and of Gratitude, I can come to no Reſolution. I have Friends enough, on whoſe Advice, in other Things, I ſet a very conſiderable Value: But, there is no Opinion, I wou'd follow ſo ſoon, in a Point of this Niceneſs, as that of the PLAIN-DEALER. It is the firſt Requeſt I have ever made to you; and, I hope, you will not refuſe your Anſwer.—When I tell him whoſe Determination I act by, I am ſure, it will ſatisfie him: And, if you deny me, the Prejudice [228] may be Infinite.—Let me have but a ſingle Paragraph, to direct me: Or, if that be too much, give me a Yes, or a No, at the Bottom of One of your Papers; and it ſhall be enough, for one of your ſincereſt Admirers,

B— B—.

'METHINKS the Difficulty, in this Caſe, is not ſo great, as the lively Painting which deſcribes it, makes it appear, upon a firſt View.—Since the Lover is ſo worthy of the Lady, (if he had no other Means of reaching, or being recommended to her, but thro' the Hands of This Friend) my Correſpondent, without all Doubt, wou'd have ſtood bound to deliver the Letter; and try the utmoſt of his Influence, to render it ſucceſsful: And the rather, becauſe Intereſt only, and not Merit, ſeems to have recommended the Rival.—But, ſince it is ſo eaſy to find other Means, as effectual; and the Favours, receiv'd by my Correſpondent, from the Lady's Family, are ſtrong Motives againſt his Friend's employing him, where there is no viſible Neceſſity, that confines the Choice to him only, he appears, to me, a little miſtaken, when he ſtrips Friendſhip of that generous Freedom, without which, it can never ſubſiſt; and puniſhes himſelf with ſuch inward Conflicts, in Support of a Delicacy;; which, tho' it beautifies the Face of Friendſhip, is rather the Dreſs, than the Body, of it.

[229]OF all human Paſſions, this, of Friendſhip, is the moſt refin'd, and I might, almoſt, ſay too, the moſt ardent. But I wou'd be underſtood to ſpeak of the Thing: For the Word is much more common, and leſs powerful.—Moſt People, when they ſay Friend, mean Companion, or Acquaintance. But, alas! what infinite Difference!—How Few can diſtinguiſh between Friendſhip, (which is a Parity of Souls) and Affection, which is a Claim of Blood; or a Tye of mutual Intereſts; or an Agreement, of Hopes, or Fears, or Principles, or Humours; or any of theſe miſtaken Fellowſhips, which are Parts of Friendſhip, but not Friendſhip.

I SAID, it was the moſt refin'd, of all our Paſſions: And it is ſo, from its Diſ-intereſtedneſs, its Nobleneſs, and its Exemption from all Earthly Motives. It is a ſtrugling of the conſcious Soul, to enlarge her Limits, in the Body, and exert herſelf, in generous Sallies, into the Purlieus of Immortality!—It is, indeed, a Deſire; but, it is ſuch a Deſire, as the Angels burn with!—It is an Exaltation of the Human Nature, by a powerful Mixture of the Divine: And ſerves to give us an Ideal Foretaſte of our Buſineſs, when we ſhall have outſail'd Time, and launch'd into Eternity!

I had a Friend, ſays our immortal Dryden, in ſome, or other, of his Tragedies;—I forget the particular Place, but muſt, always, remember the Beautiful Deſcription!

[230]
I had a Friend, that lov'd me:—
I was his Soul: He liv'd not, but in me:
We were ſo loſt, within each other's Breaſt,
That neither found himſelf, but in the other.
We mix'd, like meeting Streams, that flow, together!
All knew us different, yet perceiv'd us one;
Nor cou'd again divide us!

BUT I am entering on a Subject, which ſhou'd I do more, than barely touch it, wou'd carry me away with it, into a Length, in which I might loſe my ſelf, and my Reader: And the beſt Way I can find, to prevent it, will be to put an End to this Day's Paper, with two Excellent Stanza's, from Spencer, which are very ſtrong, and elegant, upon the Subject.

Hard is the Doubt, and Difficult, to deem,
When All Three Kinds of Love, at once, contend,
And cleave the labouring Heart, with wild Extream,
Which, with moſt Power, the ſtubborn Will can bend!
Or dear Affection, which from BLOOD deſcends?
Or raging Fire of LOVE, to Womankind?
Or that ſweet Tye of Souls, that faſtens FRIENDS?
Yet, ſure! the Knot, that joins the fellow'd Mind,
Shou'd the aſſociate Heart, with ſtricteſt Ʋnion, bind!
The Love of Kindred ſoon will feel Decay,
And ſhrink, or melt, in CUPID's ſcorching Flame:
But firmer Friendſhip bears its fierceſt Ray,
And, bright'ning, in the Proof, its Rage can tame:
Inviting Trial, and deſpiſing Blame,
For, as the Soul inſpires our moving Clay,
And gives the Body every Act, and Aim,
So, the Soul's LOVE does Love of Bodies paſs,
Far, as the ripen'd Gold ſurmounts the cank'ry Braſs!

The Plain Dealer. No 85.
MONDAY, January 11. 1725.

[231]
Gratum eſt quod patriae Civem, populoque dediſti,
Si facis ut Patriae ſit idoneus, utilis agris,
Utilis, & bellorum & pacis rebus agendis.
JUV.

To the AUTHOR of the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

HAVING lately met with an Opportunity of looking back, upon a Compleat SETT of your PLAIN DEALERS, the laſt Paragraph, in your Paper of Monday, the 9th of November, puts me upon asking, Whether it would not be worth while, to beſtow an Eſſay to ſhew the Honour, as well as the Profit of TRADE; in order to remove that miſtaken Motion, which poſſeſſes the Minds of the Indolent, and Unthinking, Part of our Nobility and Gentry, That by engaging in TRADE they degrade themſelves?

[232] YOU will eaſily prove the contrary, ſince not only our Credit at Home, but our Power Abroad, is ſupported by it. Beſides which, the Education, neceſſary to qualify a Man for a compleat Trader, is ſuch, as becomes a Gentleman of the firſt Rank. For he ſhould be a Proficient in Languages, Hiſtory, Geography, and Mathematicks: And, in order to be Maſter of the Improvements, which may be made, in every Soil, and Climate, he ſhould know ſomething of Natural Philoſophy.—He ought to be acquainted with the Policy and Government, of all Nations: And, though he does not immediately concern himſelf in the Management of State Affairs, yet he ſhould be qualified for a PRIME MINISTER.

OUR Youth of Title and Gaiety, are generally taken with the Character of a SOLDIER; and it muſt be allowed, a Noble Employment,—Eſpecially, when aſſumed in the Defence of our Country. But then, it may be remembred, That the Art of War, was introduced thro' the Corruption of Mankind, and is always attended with Ruin and Deſolation.

OTHERS, who would appear more polite than their Neighbours, breed up their Sons to practice the LAW,—but I am ſorry to ſay, that This, conſidered as a Profeſſion, is is attended with Conſequencs, as Fatal to Families, as That is to Nations.—For, [233] though our Seats of Juſtice are filled with Men, from whom we may expect All, that is equal and juſt; yet by the Turns, and Managements, of the inferiour Practicers in thoſe Courts, our Approach to Them, is made ſo Intricate and Expenſive, that they who are obliged to ſue for their own Right, in the common Forms, are frequently undone, even though they obtain the Verdict, in their Favour.

THUS the Properties of the People are render'd precarious, and many Difficulties are put upon them, in their Purſuit of Juſtice, by thoſe, who pervert the true Intention of the Law; and make That a dark Myſtery, which being the Rule of every Man's Actions, ſhould lie open, and plain to his Underſtanding.

AND, here, I cannot help mentioning a Thing, which, though it ſeems but a Trifle, much be allowed to look like a very unreaſonable Hardſhip.—The Manner of making out, and ſerving a Subpoena in Chancery!—This is a ſmall Slip of Parchment, roll'd up, in a Lump of Wax, and may chance to be ſerv'd, in the Country, upon a Perſon, who can hardly read the plaineſt Engliſh:—When it comes to his Hands, perhaps, at firſt, he is affraid to break it open; but, if he proves hardy enough to do that, he is not one Jot the wiſer; for it is wrote in Barbarous Latin, with odd unintelligble, Abbreviations; and, in a [234] Hand, more reſembling a Set of Hieroglyphicks, than the Letters of a Chriſtian Alphabet.

THE poor Man, thinking no Harm, lays it by, till his Convenience ſerves him, to get it explained, by the firſt Great Scholar he happens to meet with. But, in the mean Time, upon this Delay, out comes an Attachment, and ſo on, to a Writ of Rebellion; for no other Reaſon than that a Man who was bred to underſtand nothing but Husbandry, could not decypher a Summons, ſerved upon him, in a Language he never heard of, and a Character, which the Parſon of the Pariſh, might himſelf, have been equally puzzled by!

THERE are many other Proceedings in the Law, of a like Nature, which if truly conſidered, have methinks, but an odd Appearance, in a Country of ſo much boaſted Liberty.—But if, while we cenſure, what ſeems thus unreaſonable, in the Method of ſome of our Law-Practices, it ſhould be alledged, That, Notwithſtanding all this, it has produced many Great, and Uſeful Men, I allow it,—only it may be worth conſidering, Whether we have not more Reaſon to be aſhamed we ſtand in need of them, than to boaſt that we have them. And I will ask this plain Queſtion, If that would not be eſteemed a happier Climate, where there is no Need of Phyſicians, than where the Uncertainty, or Unwholeſomeneſs [235] of the Air has encourag'd ſo many of them to ſettle, that you are ſure of finding a Good One in every Street?

I BEG Pardon for this Digreſſion; but I was led into it by mentioning the Law as a Profeſſion, compared with that of the Merchant, in order to engage your more able Pen to ſhow, at large, how much One is preferrable to the other; as well with reſpect to the Honour, as the Uſefulneſs, that attends it—ſince All, who raiſe their Fortunes meerly by the Practice of the Law, or the Succeſs of the Sword, muſt neceſſarily do it upon the Ruin of Families and Nations: Whereas the Generous TRADER, while he enriches himſelf, is ſpreading Benefits to all about him: From whence we may infer, That This is the Employment, moſt agreeable to the Original Deſign of our Beings, which was, not to deſtroy, but to comfort, and cheriſh each other.

MOSES was a great Lawgiver, and David was a Warriour: But SOLOMON, whom GOD was pleaſed to honour, with ſtill ſublimer Marks of his Favour, and to whom He gave the wiſeſt, and moſt Underſtanding Heart;—So that there was none like him, BEFORE, neither ſhould Any riſe, AFTER, like unto him. This Solomon, the Greateſt King, the Choſen People of GOD ever had! was a MERCHANT; and ſent Fleets, by way of the Red Sea, to bring home Gold, from the Eaſt Indies: And [236] what Noble Monuments did this Prince leave behind him of his Wiſdom and his Grandeur:

BUT we have a living Example in the CZAR, a Prince, who has done more for the Advantage of his Country, and his own Glory, by encouraing Arts and Sciences, and improving every Branch of Trade, in his Dominions, than by all the Battles he has ever fought.—In fine, who has not obſerv'd, That our own moſt Gracious SOVEREIGN, at the opening this preſent Seſſion of Parliament, recommended from the Throne, the Encouragement of TRADE, and NAVIGATION, as the great Means, to Support, and Eſtabliſh us.

IF you think any of theſe Hints can be of Service to the Publick, you may uſe them as you pleaſe.

I am, SIR, Your very humble Servant, PATRICIUS.

I AM perfectly in the Sentiments of the Ingenious Gentleman, who ſent me the foregoing Letter;—But, the Subject which he has recommended, can never hope to ſucceed better, than under the Care of ſo able a Hand, as his own: And, for that Reaſon, I am very deſirous of the Continuance of his Correſpondence.

[237]THE Opinion, That Merchandizing debaſes Blood, is a Folly, worthy only of the Tribe, to whom this Gentleman imputes it.—It is a Truth, too well known, that the INDOLENT and UNTHINKING, Part, of our Nobility and Gentry, is a very large Part of them: But (Heaven be prais'd!) not at all a conſiderable One.—They are a Race of pleaſant Creatures, who had the Honour to be born, for their own Eaſe; but for the Entertainment of other People.—They put me in mind of the Innkeeper in the STRATAGEM, who was able at preſent, to produce none of the Good Things, his Gueſts wanted, but had the Satisfaction of, remembring that he could have furniſh'd 'em, All, if they had din'd with him, laſt SUNDAY:—No Matter how pur-blind a Man of Quality happens to be, ſince he had a Great Grandfather, that was ſharp ſighted! He may be, a Fool too, (HIMSELF)—but it ought to be Scandalum Magnatum to laugh at him.—For he has Proofs, in the Herald's Office, That his FOREFATHERS cou'd act wiſely.

WE have the Comfort, however, to know, that All our Lords, are not LORDS OF TRADE: If they were, my Correſpondent's Excellent Notions might be urg'd, with an Effect, but ill-proportion'd to their Value; and fall under the Noble Eye of not a Few able Miniſters, of the ſame Stamp with a famous One, in a late Reign, who, when a certain Knight, a Great Trader, preſented him with a Scheme [238] for the Improvement of Commerce, threw it back to him, with a wiſe Contempt, and ask'd him, Whether he thought, that Men of HIS QUALITY, had nothing to do but to read Papers!

TO the juſt, and lively, Obſervation, That a Merchant ought to be qualify'd for a Miniſter of State, I will add this Wiſh, of my own,—That we may, never have a Miniſter of State, who is not qualified for a Merchant!—Not Trade alone, but Politicks, would ſoon feel the Benefit of ſo new a Regulation.—Yet, there is a Happineſs, ſtill greater; and it is the Laſt, the warmeſt, Hope, of thoſe, to whoſe ſucceſsful Induſtry we owe our Commerce!—That the Way might always lie open, to the Ear of our Princes Themſelves, without paſſing the narrow Poſterns, which Truth is often oblig'd to wait at, 'till it has wearied it ſelf, to no Purpoſe.

THE Firſt remarkable Start, in the Enlargement of the Engliſh Traffick, was made in the Reign of our High-ſpirited Queen Elizabeth: And to what Kind of Meaſures it was owing, may, I preſume, be gather'd, without much Difficulty, from the following little Story, which I have taken out of Sir Walter Raleigh's Diſcourſe, concerning the Prerogative of Parliaments.

QUEEN Elizabeth would ſet the Reaſon of her meaneſt Subject, againſt the Authority of her greateſt Councellor. By her Patience, [239] herein, ſhe raiſed the ordinary Cuſtoms of London, above Fifty thouſand Pounds a Year, without any new Impoſition.—The Lord Treaſurer Burleigh, the Earl of Leiceſter, and Secretary Walſingham (All Three PENSIONERS to Cuſtomer Smith) join'd, to ſet themſelves againſt a poor Waiter of the Cuſtom-Houſe, call'd Carwarden; and commanded the Grooms of the Chamber not to give him Admiſſion.—But the Queen, ſent for him, on a Petition, which he deliver'd, into her Hands, and gave him Countenance againſt them all.—It would not ſerve the Turn with Her, to be told by her Great Officers, that ſhe diſgrac'd Them, by allowing her Ear to the Complaints of buſie Heads; and that ſhe diſhonour'd Her own Dignity.—She had always This, to anſwer—That, If Men ſhou'd complain, unjuſtly, againſt her Miniſters, ſhe knew well enough, how to puniſh them—But, if they had Reaſon for the Complaints they offer'd Her, She was Queen of the SMALL, as well as of the GREAT; and would not ſuffer Herſelf to be BESIEG'D, by Servants, who cou'd have no Motive for wiſhing it, but their Intereſt in the Oppreſſion of others

The Plain Dealer. No 86.
FRIDAY, January 15. 1725.

[240]
Audit iter numeratque dies ſpatioque viarum
Metitur vitam.—
CLAUD.

I THINK, I have already inform'd my READERS, That I am a great Lover of Walking: But I don't know whether I have, yet, acquainted them with a Cuſtom I have, to look back, from every Riſing Ground I meet with, in my Perambulations, and examine the Change of Proſpect; and the Face, and Scituation, of the Country, I have left behind me.

I HAVE tranſplanted this good Cuſtom, from my Body, into my Mind; which I have, for ſome Years paſt, inur'd to make Pauſes, now and then, in Life; and reckon over its paſt Stages, and the Uſes I have adapted them to: And This I ſometimes do, after a General, and, at other Times, in a more particular, Manner.—The Diſtinction of Ages, by Solon, into Diviſions, of Seven Years, is an Example of the Firſt Kind; and has ſomething [241] in it, that is juſt, and natural; and uncommon enough to be worth tranſlating.

The Seven firſt Years of Life, (Man's Break of Day)
Gleams of ſhort Senſe a Dawn of Thought diſplay.
When Fourteen Springs have bloom'd his downy Cheek,
His ſoft, and bluſhful, Meanings, learn to ſpeak.
From Twenty One, proud Manhood takes its Date;
Yet is not Strength compleat, till Twenty Eight.
Thence, to his Five and Thirtieth, Life's gay Fire
Sparkles, burns loud, and flames, in fierce Deſire.
At Forty Two, his Eyes grave Wiſdom wear;
And the dark Future dims him o'er with Care.
On, to the Nine and Fortieth, Toils increaſe;
And buſy Hopes, and Fears, diſturb his Peace,
At Fifty Six, cool Reaſon reigns, intire,
Then, Life burns ſteady, and with temp'rate Fire,
But Sixty Three unbinds the Body's Strength;
E're the unwearied Mind has run her Length.
And, when, from Sev'enty Age ſurveys her Laſt,
Tir'd, ſhe ſtops ſho t—and wiſhes, All were paſt.

OF the ſecond, and more particular Kind, I have met with no livelier Example, than That of the illuſtrious Paulo Paruta, a Noble Venetian; who was ſent Ambaſſador, from his Republick, to Pope Clement the Eighth; and compos'd the following Soliloquy, during his Reſidence at Rome; wherein he briefly Examines the whole Courſe of his paſt Life.

[242]

WHERE am I? What am I doing? What am I deſigning?—I am haſtening already to the End of my Life; and have hardly ſo much as thought upon the End of my Being!—I am tranſported with That which I am not ſure to poſſeſs, a Day; and neglect to acquaint myſelf with what I muſt carry with me, thro' Eternity!—Age has, naturally, a Power to afflict, and mortifie, the Body: Let it now exert a nobler Influence, and exalt, and quicken, my Spirit!—Summon, O my Soul, thy ſtray'd, and degenerate, Thoughts; Know the Dignity of thy Condition; and let nothing proceed from Thee, but what may, truly, be worthy of Thee.

I FEAR, if I make a Scrutiny into the Conduct of my Life, I ſhall diſgrace my bluſhing Reaſon, by a Recollection of my Vanity.—The Tenderneſs of my Infant Years was too weak to afford Matter, that cou'd merit my Age's Notice; and yet, the Tears, methinks, which it was ſubject to, might have forewarned me, That I was ent'ring upon a Wilderneſs, of Miſery!

IN the Boyiſh Years, which ſucceeded Childhood, I drew in Pleaſure, at my Eyes, and Ears; and gave my Soul a Tincture that prepared it for the Impreſſions of future Levity.—Riches, Honour, and worldly Greatneſs, glitter'd on me, from a lovely Diſtance: And Retirement, when I [243] heard it talk'd of, ſeem'd Stupidity or Madneſs.—Theſe Conceptions gather'd Strength, as I advanced into riper Life, from the Common Conſent, of all Men, to practiſe, and to praiſe, as I did: And That moſt among Thoſe, who were reputed wiſeſt, and moſt happy.

AT my Entrance into Youth, I applied myſelf to Study.—I delighted, chiefly, in Rhetorick, and Philoſophy; and, having the good Fortune to meet with Excellent Maſters, I made a ſwift, and unuſual Progreſs.—Yet I cannot help confeſſing, That it added Fuel to my native Pride. It inflam'd me with a Thirſt of Praiſe; and ſerv'd to countenance that Self-Love, which ſtood in need of no Incentive.—Knowledge is apt to puff up its Poſſeſſors.—I dare not ſay, I poſſeſs'd it: But, if I ſhould be ask'd, What Fruit, I reap'd, by my Studies? I think, I might venture to anſwer, That Philoſophy, if it did not teach me TRUTH, awaken'd, and prepar'd me, to receive it.

FOR a while, I was very Earneſt in the Study of Morality; and delighted in it ſo much, that I publiſh'd a Treatiſe, on that Subject: And, afterwards, when I was come to Man's Eſtate, I compos'd, in Obedience to my Father's particular Command, an Elaborate Hiſtory, of my Country.—But, while I labour'd to contribute toward the Glory of other Men, I pleas'd myſelf [244] with a flattering Proſpect, That I too, by thoſe my Labours, ſhould have a Place, in the Temple I was building; and, live, in my Fame, many Ages after my Death. Abſurd Extravagance of erring Vanity!—As if, what is nothing, in Itſelf, could gather an Exiſtence, from the Opinions of Others!

NEXT, I gave myſelf wholly up to the Service, and Government of my Country; and found my Way ſo plain, and eaſy, that I ſoon attain'd Great Honours, and helped to fill the foremoſt Employments.—But, alas! What Boaſt is This?—Am I not ſenſible, that not only the moſt buſy, but even the moſt pleaſing, of my preſent Thoughts, will vaniſh, like a ſilent Shadow?—All theſe Dignities, and Diſtinctions, theſe State Buſtles, and Negotiations, with which my Mind is, ſo gloriouſly incumber'd, will diſſolve, like Smoak into the Wind! or be wither'd, like Flowers, by the Beams of that Sun, which cheriſh'd them!—Yet, unſtable as theſe Phantaſms are, and as I know them to be, I muſt meditate on Them only. My Thoughts, however reluctant, muſt, at all Times, and in all Places, give way to the imaginary Importance of theſe proud Chimera's; and abandon the Contemplation of Things intrinſically Noble.

ALAS! how hard it is to ſerve Two Maſters, of oppoſite Meanings! my Reaſon, [245] and my Pride, ſeem to have divided me, between them.—Pride teaches me to meaſure my Actions, with Regard only to outward Appearances, by which Men rather ſeem happy, than are ſo.—But Reaſon is always whiſpering me, that Patience, Humility, Mediocrity, and Self-denial, are the Roads, which lead to Felicity.—As I approached to Old Age, I grew, more and more, ſenſible on which of theſe Two Sides Truth lay: But I perſiſted, even againſt Conviction, and ſacrific'd my Peace, and Reſt, to Careful Power, and Splendid Miſery.

WHAT, then, do I wiſh?—What is it, that I am expecting?—If I know, that my Purſuits are Follies, what hinders but that I change them?—If, after having waſted the Vigour of my Life, without Advantage from ſuch Applications, I am leſs ſatisfied than when I began to live, Am I weak enough to hope, That, while, I, myſelf, do not change, the very Nature of Things ſhou'd alter? Shall Diſappointment turn to Delight, becauſe I am fondly in Love with Pleaſure?—Or ſhall a World, that produces nothing but Cares, be taught hereafter to abound with Comforts, That I only may be indulg'd, with new, and unnatural, Satisfaction?

LOOK out, my Soul, upon theſe Ruins, that are every where ſpread round thee! This was, once, That aweful ROME! The [246] Queen of the dependant World!—Where is, now, her unbounded Influence? Where the Majeſty of her Empire? Where are Her Treaſures? Her Triumphs? and the dreadful Conſequences of a Thouſand Victories?—Are they not the Prey of Death, and Time? Do they not lie buried, in theſe Heaps of Ruin?—And ſhalt Thou be fond of Glory?—Thou, who canſt look down with Pity, on the Deſolation of a Power, that drew a Chain about the World;—Shalt Thou preſume to pride Thyſelf in Honours, or Diſtinctions? or grow vain, upon the little Preference of a light, and momentary, Dignity!

No,—Thou, who haſt Duration, and Stability! Thou! who ſhalt endure, unwaſting, thro' the Changes of Eternity! conſider better the true Rate of Things; and proportion thy Deſire to their Value.—If they are not of Real Worth, why then, haſt Thou lov'd them?—Why endeavour'ſt Thou to retain them? Why art Thou ſhaken at a Proſpect of thy loſing them?—Or, grant they have, in them, any Thing, that may be call'd a Real Good, why, at leaſt, is it not remember'd, For how ſhort a Time thou canſt poſſeſs them?

A THOUSAND Ways, theſe worldly Benefits have it, in their very Nature, to deceive us.—While we ſuppoſe their Increaſe the only Means to make us happy; [247] we, inſenſibly, become miſerable: For we fix our Minds, ſo intently, upon the Little we, yet, want, that we continue Dead to the Enjoyment of All that we were before poſſeſſed of.—The Fear of loſing, what we have already got, has a Power to impoveriſh vulgar Minds, as effectually as if they really poſſeſſed Nothing! And a greater Vexation than This, the Humane Soul is not capable of being tormented by—Becauſe, as the Miſery is imaginary, it is boundleſs; and, as it drew its Evil from Depravity, it can receive no Cure from Reaſon.—Strange Perverſeneſs of our Nature!—We have our Happineſs, within ourſelves, and are always ſeeking it abroad:—We have our Miſeries, remote, and without; and, yet, are, for ever, ſmarting inward; and tranſplanting Tortures, to ourſelves, which have no Roots, but in our Diligence, to excite, and nouriſh, our own Miſchiefs!

IF we feed the Soul with Meat, which is not proper to her Nature, what Wonder, that ſhe pines, and can never be ſatisfied?—But, I perceive, while I praiſe MARY, I am imitating MARTHA.—I diſcern the right Way; But I chuſe to travel in the wrong, till I have loſt my ſelf in its intricate Windings!—I am troubled, and buſied with many Things; tho' I know, well enough, that there is but One, of 'em, ſincerely Neceſſary.—[248] I am birdlim'd by the tempting World.—I am given over to a Variety of ſolicitous, and grinding, Cares, which I hug, like Bleſſings, to my Boſom; and am ſoften'd, more and more, into an Affection, and Partiality, for them.—The Love and Gratitude, I owe my Friends.—The Hopes, and Fears, and touching Tenderneſs, with which I think of my Wife, and Children;—Domeſtick, and private Oeconomy; and the weightier Concerns of the Government of the Commonwealth! preſs my Thoughts, on every Side, and afflict me with Purpoſes, diametrically oppoſite to each other.

FAIN wou'd I free my Soul, and reſtore her to her Liberty, from theſe Paſſions, which confine, and torture her: But I neither know how, nor when, to reſolve it.—Yet, am I comforted, however, That I feel, in myſelf, a ſtrong Deſire, to exert the Prerogative of my Reaſon. Since I conſider it, as a Sign, that tho' I am not able to do well, I retain the Principles of well-doing.

The Plain Dealer. No 87
MONDAY, January 18. 1725.

[249]
Hoc habet animus argumentum, ſuae divinitatis,
Quod illum divina delectant.—
SEN.

To the AUTHOR of the PLAIN-DEALER.

SIR,

IF You think, This may deſerve a Place, in one of your Papers, inſert it; If not, deal Plainly, and commit it to the Flames; and either way, you will oblige,

Yours, &c.

THE Wiſe Author of Nature gave us Paſſions for a noble End: And, to defend us from Exceſs, our Underſtandings were conferred, to regulate them; And, leaſt All ſhould prove deficient, out of His overflowing Goodneſs, He enriched us with a Revelation.

THE Eternal Truths of the Chriſtian Religion, caſt a Shade upon the fineſt, and [250] moſt exalted, Productions of humane Literature: Which Remark has been frequently brought, as a Defence of its Divine Original, and is really, a very ſtrong Argument; for who can imagine, that without ſupernatural Aſſiſtance, Men of ordinary Condition, unaſſiſted by the Lights, or Improvements, of Learning, ſhould be able, in various Languages, to lay down ſuch invaluable Principles; a Multitude of which, were vaſtly preferrable, to any that had been introduced, by the moſt penetrating of the Heathen Philoſophers.

SOCRATES, Plato, Epictetus, and ſeveral others, have thought, and written, ſo well, that their Memories deſerve to be highly reſpected; But what nobler, and inimitable Morals! How Extenſive, and yet adapted, to all Abilities, have deſcended to us in the Divine Collections?—I have often, with no ſmall Concern, lamented, that the Study of the Scriptures, is ſo little reliſh'd; I had like to have ſaid, ſo much deſpiſed, in in Compariſon of the Pagan Writers.

IN the Schools, to open an Aquaintance, with the Politeſt of the Claſſicks, is undoubtedly a commendable Outſet. But to be taught, a greater Admiration of them, than of the Prophets, and Inſpir'd Writers, is an Extream; and one, that is, more than ordinary Criminal.—How common [251] is it, to hear Perſons expreſſing their utmoſt Fondneſs for the Former, whilſt the Laſt is ſeldom mentioned; or, however, with much Indifference. There are ſublime Sentiments in the Greek and Latin Authors;—But there is ſomething, too, which, I cannot forbear to take Notice of, that their Characters were ſeldom ſuitable;—One Proof of which Aſſertion, we may borrow from Plutarch's Life of Cato; Even that Cato who was famous for the rigid Stubbornneſs of his Morality!—When his Domeſticks were worn out with hard Labour, or grown paſt it, through Encreaſe of Age, he would diſmiſs them, and ſhow no Tokens of further Regard or Humanity: On which Plutarch has left us this Reflection, That we are not to uſe unfortunate Wretches, who depend on us; as we do our old Shooes, or Platters, and throw them away, when they are broken, and fall to Pieces in our Service:—But if it were for nothing better than to expreſs the Reſpect, we have for the Humane Nature, a Man ought always to cheriſh in himſelf a kind and compaſſionate Diſpoſition.

BUT, not to digreſs farther, There are infinitely Sublimer Sentiments in the Sacred Writings, and the Lives of their Authors ſhone, illuſtrious Examples of their Doctrine!—How becoming a great Soul, is, The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, Bleſſed be the Name of the Lord[252] Again, What? ſhall we receive Good at the Hand of God, and ſhall we not receive Evil?—How Happy would it be for Mankind? if they would feel, and apply, to their Practice, the glorious Commands of our Redeemer, To do nothing, but as we would be done by; to exerciſe our Benignity even towards thoſe, who hate, and who perſecute us! This Propoſition is contemned by too many, tho' we have it ſo ſtrongly recommended, not only by the Words, but by the Practice of Him, who died for our Salvation! Beſides, (as you have obſerv'd in one of your PLAIN DEALERS) a Return of Good Offices, for Injuries, is, indeed, the ſharpeſt Revenge; For by ſuch a Conduct, we triumph over, confound, and diſgrace, a malicious Enemy: As by a contrary Management, we ſeem to juſtify, as well as inflame him.

IN Fine, There are a beautiful Variety of Inſtructions, in Holy Writ, which can never be parallell'd; They manifeſt their Heavenly Original; And, if we make 'em our Delight, will alleviate all earthly Calamity, and furniſh an infallible Remedy, for every Accident, that can befal Us. I deſign'd now to have ended; but Recollecting, that there are ſome, who have little Faith, in Revelation, I'll go on, a Line or two farther;—Suppoſe, we grant their inconſiſtent Hypotheſis: Yet, [253] ſtill, it is our Intereſt to direct ourſelves, by the Meaſures of Revealed Religion, becauſe it is the trueſt Friend to humane Nature, and promotes nothing which is not conducive to our Quiet, and Well-being; ſo that, allowing it were not our Duty, it is, however our Prudence, to comply with ſo excellent, and even ſo agreeable a Model.

SO far, I have entertain'd my Readers with ſome Reflexions, for which I am oblig'd to an unknown Hand, on a Subject, whereon much has already been written; with leſs Effect than might reaſonably have been expected, from the Force, and Clearneſs, of the Arguments.

IF I am not miſtaken, That Diſreliſh of the Sacred Writings, which my Correſpondent complains of (tho' I hope it is far from Univerſal among us) may be imputed to the low Spirit, and flat, obſolete, Expreſſion, of the coarſe Engliſh, they are tranſlated in.—I leave it (ſays an Excellent Modern Critick) to our Prelates and Paſtors, to conſider, Whether, ſince they are ſatisfied, That there is a Neceſſity for a Numerous Style, in ſome Parts of our Publick Worſhip, they ought to remain contented with the Vile Verſions, now in Uſe, and ſuffer the moſt lofty, and moſt pathetick Idea's of Religion, to be burleſqu'd, in our Churches?—which is all one, as if they ſhou'd dreſs up a Biſhop, in ſome antick-Habit, [254] and expoſe him, every Sunday, in That merry Garb, to raiſe the Veneration of the People!

IT is finely obſerv'd, and indeed, undeniably demonſtrated, by the ſame Gentleman, in his Grounds of Criticiſm in Poetry, That, as the Great Characteriſtick of Poetry, is Paſſion, and the ſtrongeſt, and moſt moving Paſſions flow moſt naturally, from Religious Idea's; For this Reaſon chiefly, the Ancient Poetry (where their Religion had its moſt powerful Influence) has, ſo viſibly the Advantage over the Modern, (which is for the moſt Part light, prophane, and contemptible.) And, for the ſame Reaſon too, the Poetry of the Hebrews, which the Old Teſtament is, every where, fill'd with, excell'd That of the Antient Greeks and Romans.

THERE are numberleſs Inſtances, in the Pſalms, and among the Prophets, and indeed throughout all Parts of the Old, and New Teſtaments, of a Sublimity, that exalts the Humane Soul, and ſhakes it, with a much ſtronger Degree of Terror, and Admiration, than Any, the moſt noble Strokes of rapturous Enthuſiaſm, which can be met with even in Homer Himſelf.

WHAT a Collection of dreadful Images are thrown together in the Eighteenth Pſalm, to deſcribe the Majeſty of GOD, deſcending in the Fullneſs of his Power!—The Earth trembles,—The Foundations of the Hills are ſhaken,—He bows the Heavens, and comes [255] down,—and Darkneſs is under his Feet! All This is animated, and wonderful!—But, what follows, is a Conception, of ſo immenſe, and terrible a Grandeur! that our vulgar Tranſlation ſeems unpardonable, for the manifeſt Injuſtice it has done the Meaning; Then the Channels of the Waters were ſeen: And the Foundations of the World were diſcover'd!—But, ſee, how This ought to have appear'd, in the noble Dreſs which Mr. Dennis has given it.

Still Darkneſs uſher'd His myſterious Way,
And a black Night of congregated Clouds
Became the dark Pavillion of his Throne!
Earth, upwards, from the gaping Center, cleav'd,
And bar'd the fix'd Foundations of the World!
A Sight! that blaſted even the World's, Great Eye!
And made the ſtarting SUN recoil,
From his Eternal Way!

WHAT comes neareſt to This, is, That famous Paſſage, in the xxth Iliad of Homer, to which alſo, the Gentleman juſt nam'd has given the fineſt Tranſlation it ever met with,

Mean while, Majeſtick Neptune, from below,
The reeling Globe with his huge Trident Strook.
Mount Ida trembled, from his hoary Top,
And from his nethermoſt Foundations ſhook.
[256] Pluto ſtarts, frighted, from his burning Throne,
And, ſtriking his infernal Breaſt, cries out,
Leaſt ſuch another Stroke ſhou'd rend the Globe,
And, on his pale Dominions, let in Day!

THE Hebrew Prophets abound, Everywhere with Idea's, ſo ſublimely Enthuſiaſtick, that they tranſport and carry away the Reader, with a Power that is reſiſtleſs; and worthy of the GOD, who is honour'd by them!—Among Theſe, the Deſcription of That Deſolation from the Eaſt, which was propheſied againſt the Jews, by Habakkuk (as we ſee it, in his firſt Chapter) has ſomething in it, ſo ſtrongly painted, and ſo terrible! that it ſtrikes us, (thro' the moſt un-ornamented Simplicity,) with a Force, that was never excell'd, by all the Elaborate Productions of Poetry!

I will raiſe up the Chaldeans, That bitter, and fierce, Nation! and They ſhall march thro' the Breadth of the Land.

THEY are terrible! and their Horſes are ſwifter than Leopards; and fiercer than Evening Wolves!

THEY ſhall come on, and fly with Violence, as an Eagle, that haſtens to eat!

THEIR Faces ſhall drink up, like the Eaſt-Wind; and they ſhall gather the Captivity, as Sand.

[257]THE fourth Chapter of the ſame Prophet, is one continued Height of the Divineſt Elevation; and I ſhall inſert the whole Succeſſion of its matchleſs Images, as a Proof how truly it has been obſerv'd, by the Gentleman who ſent me the foregoing Letter, That there are infinitely ſublimer Sentiments in the Sacred Writers, than in any of the moſt celebrated Claſſick Authors.

At Iſrael's Call, th' Almighty's Thunder, hurl'd
From Paran's Summit, ſhook th' Aſtoniſh'd World!
Frowning, provok'd, his threat'ning Wrath flam'd high;
And Earth's dim Regions gleam'd, beneath his Eye.
Poiz'd, in his undetermin'd Hands, he bore
Judgment's heap'd Horn, and Mercy's ſtrugling Store.
Near him, Pale Death, in ſhad'owy Triumph, trod;
And preſs'd, with ghaſtly Signs, the doomful Nod.
Keen, from beneath his Feet, red Lightnings broke,
And the veil'd Mountain ſhook, in Clouds of Smoke.
He ſtood—and, while the meaſur'd World he ey'd,
The ſtarting Nations drop'd their warlike Pride.
High-boaſting Cuſhan ſtruck her Tents, with Shame,
And Midian groan'd, beneath repented Fame.
He ſtept—and, from their old Foundations, rent,
The Everlaſting Hills before him bent!
He march'd—and all th' up-rooted Mountains ſtray,
And roll, in Earthquakes, to eſcape his Way!
Faſt-foll'wing, from their Chaſms, a thouſand Tides
Spout a wiſh'd Deluge o'er their frighted Sides!
Back ſwell'd the roaring Sea, his Face to fly,
And, in O [...]e trembling Billow ſcal'd the Sky!
[258]Conſcious of Wrath Divine, the Sun grew pale,
And o'er Diſtinction, caſt a dusky Veil.
This when I hear, chill Froſts my Heart o'erſpread,
And my Lips quiver, with the riſing Dread.
Trembling, and ſunk, my Limbs I faintly draw,
And my Bones crumble, with Ideal Awe!

I SHALL cloſe my Paper with the Words of a Gentleman, whom I have, already, once or twice, nam'd in it,— ‘'If Harmony, ſays he, is, of itſelf, ſo Efficacious, what muſt it not be, when incorporated with a Religious Senſe?—There can, certainly, be no better Way to Reformation, than the Reading of thoſe Writings, which we believe to be divinely inſpir'd: But it is equally certain, that the greater the Pleaſure is, with which we read them, the oftner we ſhall diſcharge that Duty: And, to make us read them with more Pleaſure, They muſt have more of the Harmony, and Force, of their Originals.—This would attract the Gentry, and Perſons of the moſt Extraordinary Parts, whoſe Examples would influence the reſt. For Perſons of the moſt Extraordinary Parts, being extremely delighted with Poetry, and finding the moſt exalted Poetry upon Religious Subjects, wou'd, by Degrees, become more us'd to be mov'd, by Sacred, than prophane Idea's; and, in Conſequence, wou'd be reform'd.

The Plain Dealer. No 88.
FRIDAY, January 22. 1725.

[259]
Suave mari magno turbantibus aequora ventis,
Et Terra magnum alterius ſpectare laborem.—
LUC.

THE Sea is the moſt Vaſt, of all the viſible Objects of Nature: And, when the Wind adds Diſturbance and Motion, to its Immenſity, There is nothing, that ſeems ſo Dreadfully proportion'd to the Greatneſs of its Almighty Creator!—Yet, as the Art of the Painter gives us a ſenſible Delight, from the Repreſentation of Proſpects, of Creatures, or of Actions, which, in their Natures, are Productive of Horror; ſo, we are never more pleas'd, by any Deſcriptions, in Poetry, than by Thoſe, which ſet before us the ſtrongeſt, and livelieſt Pictures, of Shipwrecks and Storms at Sea: Whether it is, that the Soul exults, and prides its ſelf, in a Conſciouſneſs of its own Capacity, to move and conceive ſo greatly?—Or, That we derive a [260] ſharper Taſte, and Enjoyment, of our own Safety, from a Compariſon, with thoſe repreſented Dangers?

ALL the Poets, Ancient and Modern, have been fond of raiſing Tempeſts; wherein, for the moſt Part, their own Time, has been caſtaway. For, they have ſcatter'd and weaken'd, the Terror, they deſign'd to increaſe, by throwing together All the Images that occurr'd, rather than ſelecting the moſt Eſſential and Impreſſive: By means of which perplexing, and inconſiſtent Variety, their Reader's Imagination finds Relief; from not clearly diſcerning their Object, through the Duſt, which they have rais'd about it.

IT has been obſerv'd, by the Admirers of Homer, That there is a Similitude, between His manner of Thinking, and that of David and Solomon, and others of the Hebrew Writers, who ow'd their Excellence to the Inſpiration of the Holy Spirit.—Meethinks, this Remark, which is much to the Honour of that immortal Greek, may gather ſome New Force if we conſider Homer's Deſcription of a Tempeſt, which Longinus was ſo juſtly charm'd with, and compare it with that of David, in the 107th Pſalm, which has often been mention'd with Wonder, by the Criticks, of our own, and foreign Nations.—Both the Verſions are New: But Both the Originals are inimitable.—I begin with That of the Pſalmiſt.

[261]
They, who in Ships, the Sea's vaſt Depths deſcend,
And, o'er the watry World, their Paſſage bend;
They, (more than All) their GOD's Great Works diſcern,
And 'midſt th' unfathom'd Deep, his Wonders learn.
There, from ſmooth Calms, on ſudden Storms, they riſe!
Hang on the horrid Surge, and Skim the Skies!
Now, high as Heaven, they climb their dreadful Way:
Now, ſink, in gulphy Slants, and loſe the Day!
Giddy, they reel; to ſhoot the frightful Steep;
And their Souls melt amid the ſounding Sweep!
Helpleſs, they cling to what ſupports them, firſt,
And o'er 'em feel the breaking Billows burſt.
Then, to their laſt ALMIGHTY Hope, they cry;
Who hears, and marks them, with a pitying Eye:
HE bids the Storm be huſh'd—The WINDS obey:
And the aw'd WAVES, in ſilence, ſhrink away!

NOW follows Homer, with a Terror, and a Majeſty, which leave it almoſt doubtful, to which of theſe Great Poets the Victory ſhou'd be aſcrib'd; but, Certain, beyond all Queſtion,—That no other has equall'd either of them.

O'er the broad Sea the driving Tempeſt ſpreads,
And ſounding Surges ſwell their ſweeping Heads.
Upwards, Immenſe, the Liquid Mountains flow;
And ſhade the diſtant Ship, that climbs, below!
Down her waſh'd Decks the white'ning Foam rolls o'er;
And the big Blaſts thro' burſting Canvas, roar!
Back ſhrink the Sailors from the briny Grave:
And ſee pale Death, preſs cloſe on every Wave!

[262]WE ſee here no Time loſt, in enumerating little Particulars. All the Great, and Striking, Circumſtances are thrown forward, in their proper Lights: But nothing is added, That can either diminiſh or diſtract, the Apprehenſion.—I have plac'd theſe two admirable Deſcriptions thus oppoſite to each other, That ſome of our faſhionable Applauders of Homer, may ſee his Sublimity more than match'd, in the Works of a Poet they have ſeldom heard of: And that they, who are, juſtly, his Admirers, may find Cauſe to eſteem him, yet more, by obſerving how near he comes, to One, whom [...]OD was pleas'd, after a peculiar manner, to inſpire and delight in.

WHILE I am upon this Subject, it falls naturally in my Way, to recollect a Letter, that was lately ſent me, by a Gentleman, who writ the Particulars of the Story from the Mouth of a Perſon, who was, himſelf, an Eye-witneſs.

To the AUTHOR of the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

YOU appear, by ſome of your Writings, to be ſo heartily a Lover of the Trade, and Proſperity, of your Country, that I perſwade my ſelf you muſt of Neceſſity, be a Well-wiſher to the honeſt Sailors: A Set of Men, who at the continual Hazard of their Lives, contribute their [263] Toil, and their Skill, to the Power and Grandeur of the Nation: And, who, allowing Themſelves no Leiſure for Luxury, furniſh Means, notwithſtanding, to maintain the Luxury of other People.—The Sailors, to be ſhort, are a Race of openhearted, gallant, Thinkers, who retain the Plainneſs, the uncorrupted Sincerity, and blunt Species of Virtue, which diſtinguiſh'd our Forefathers; and which Old England has, ſo often, triumph'd by, in Times, whoſe Cuſtoms we rather admire, than imitate.—Whatever, therefore, relates, in a very extraordinary Manner, to the Good or Ill Fortune, of any of this uſeful, and worthy Race of your Kindred Plain Dealers, I promiſe my ſelf, you will take Pleaſure to diſtinguiſh, by allowing it a Place in your Paper.

THE Ship Bouevia, of London, of Burthen about 250 Tun, Captain Brooks, Commander; ſet ſail, from the Coaſt of Holland, on the 25th of November laſt; having two Pilots, one Engliſh, and the other Dutch: And his Wife was on board, with him.

THE Day had been fair, and clear; but, in the Evening, about Six, it blew hard at South and by Weſt. The Gale increas'd, into a violent Storm, and continu'd for about Seven Hours, veering to the Weſt, and North and by Weſt: During which the Ship was ſtranded, off of Enchuyſen, in the Texel.

[264] IN order to ſave themſelves, if poſſible, the Men all got into the Long-Boat, and were juſt ready to put off: But, not having their Captain among them, they call'd to him to haſten down; becauſe the Sea ran ſo high, that it broke over the Boat, and indanger'd her beating to Pieces, againſt the Side of the ſtranded Veſſel.—The Captain, in this nice, and perilous, Point of Time, recollecting that his Wife was Seaſick, in the Cabin, cou'd not bear the ungerous Thought of endeavouring to ſave himſelf, without her, and was earneſtly labouring to bring her along with him.—But, ſhe, who had heard the Men cry out, That the Boat wou'd ſink, under the weight of two Perſons more, embrac'd him paſſionately, and refus'd to go.—She wept, and told him, in the moſt moving manner, That a Woman, in ſuch an Extremity, wou'd prove a dangerous Incumbrance. She implor'd him not to think of dividing his Care; but to employ it all for Preſervation of his ſingle Life, much dearer to her, than her own was.

FOR ſome Time, he preſs'd her, in vain; but prevail'd with her, at length, to come up with him upon Deck; where the firſt Obſervation they made, was, That the Boat was out of Sight; having been beaten off, by the Force of the Swell, that roſe between her and the Veſſel.

[265] HE was Gazing, Speechleſs, on her Face, in a Deſpair, which he found no Words to utter, when a Billow, breaking over the Midſhip, waſh'd him headlong, into the Sea; and left her, ſhrieking, and alone, behind him, in a Condition ſo far leſs ſupportable than his, that, after a Succeſſion of the bittereſt Out-cries, ſhe fell forward, in a Swoon, and ſunk ſenſleſs after him.

THE Boat, in the mean Time, endeavour'd to return to the Ship; and paſſing, providentially near their Captain, who was yet faintly Swimming, the Men diſcern'd him, in the Sea, and took him up quite Spent, and Speechleſs: In which Condition, they laid him in the Bottom of the Boat; and coming along the Ship's Side, one of the Sailors looking up, ſaw ſomething like a Woman, with her Arms and Cloaths, entangled in the Shrouds.

THIS Woman was the Captain's Wife; who, in the Moment of her falling forward, had been ſav'd and ſupported againſt that Part of the Rigging!—She was ſtill in a Swoon, and inſenſible; but ſo beloved by the Mariners, that they redoubled their Efforts to get Aboard, that they might have it in their Power to ſave her; And they were ſo Fortunate, in their Humanity, that they found Means to lift her into the Boat: Where they laid her, Dead in all Appearance, by her Husband, who was in the ſame Condition.

[266] THEY put off, again; and, with great Difficulty, got aſhore, upon one of the Iſlands in the Texel; where the Captain, coming to himſelf, told his Men, That they wou'd have done more kindly, had they let him periſh in the Sea; ſince the Life, they had forc'd upon him, muſt for ever be imbitter'd, by the Memory of Her unhappy End, for whoſe Sake only, He had thought it worth wiſhing for.—His Wife, was now recovering; and near enough to hear, and anſwer, this noble Inſtance of his Tenderneſs.—They flew, aſtoniſh'd, and quite loſt in Exſtacy, into each other's Arms—And it is eaſier to imagine, than deſcribe, what they thought, and ſaid, on ſo tranſporting an Occaſion!

LET me only add, That this Relation was faithfully taken, from the Mouth of a Gentleman, who was an Eye-Witneſs, of the miraculous, and providential, Particulars.—I am,

SIR,
Your moſt humble Servant, G.— B—r.

The Plain Dealer. No 89.
MONDAY, January 25. 1725.

[267]
Sed neque quam multae ſpecies, & Nomine quae ſint
Eſt numerus—
VIRGIL.
SIR,

SINCE my Misfortune ariſes only from my having ſucceeded, to the fulleſt Point of my own, and my Friend's Wiſhes, I know not how, in Conſcience, I can expect your Pity; but, be that as it will, my Caſe is ſomewhat extraordinary; and I ſhall fairly ſtate it, with the Purpoſe of ſerving as a Buoy, for the Warning of others:—You muſt know, Sir, I was left an Orphan, under the Tuition of a Rich Uncle, who promis'd to ſettle his whole Eſtate upon me at the Day of my Marriage: And that he might not cramp me in my Choice (a Folly too frequently attending the Caprices of Old Age) the only Article he inſiſted on, was a Woman of [268] ſtrict Vertue:—A Condition, ſo very reaſonable, was ſure to meet with an eaſie Compliance: And I, ſo punctually, and exactly, obſerv'd it, that from the overflowing of my Wife's Vertue, my Happineſs lies under Water.

WHATEVER Miſmanagement, or Folly, ſhe happens to be guilty of, ſhe can immediately ſet to rights, by the Counterpoize of her Chaſtity: And I have no ſooner open'd my Mouth, than ſhe hits me in the Teeth with her VIRTUE, the conſcious Good Fortune of coming off, without Cuckoldom, is, it ſeems a Cordial Preparative, that can defend a Husband's Palate againſt the bitter Taſte of Arrogance, Pride, Vanity, Ill-Nature, and the reſt of That long Catalogue, which Female Purity is pleas'd, ſometimes, to arm it ſelf withal, againſt the Danger of Worldly Temptations.

I SHALL content my ſelf with mentioning a few Inſtances, that lately happen'd, upon the Heels of one another.—Amongſt many Neighbours in the Country, I can boaſt but of one Friend, with whom I live in the greateſt Intimacy.—He was one Day at Dinner with me, and ſaid, occaſionally, in a laughing way, That there might poſſibly be other Faults in a Wife, as inſupportable as Adultery: At this, my Lucretia's Chaſtity flew out, at her Mouth, and Eyes.—The Spirit of Honeſty came [269] upon her, and ſhe threw the Spoons, and Salts, at his Head, till her Vertue remain'd Triumphant, and ſhe had driven her Antagoniſt from Table.

WHILE this Storm was in the Air, there cou'd be little Quiet under its Influences; ſo, I judiciouſly retir'd to a Farm-houſe; where I had been recovering my ſelf, about a Week, when a Meſſenger came with Tydings, That my ſpotleſs Spouſe, having heard, as Ill-luck wou'd have it, that the Nurſe to my only Child was a Baſtard, had turn'd her away, at a Minute's Warning, and kill'd the Child, in Three Days after, by perſiſting in a Reſolu- to wean it, from a Milk of ſo wicked an Original! Upon this melancholly Account, I hurried Home, where I had the Comfort to be convinc'd, that I ought, by no Means, to be ſorry, for the Death of my Child, ſince my Wife's Vertue was yet alive, and her Modeſty preſerv'd inviolate.

NOW, Sir, what is to be done in ſuch a Caſe?—I wou'd tell her, if I durſt; (nay, I will, if you are ſo kind, as to ſtand by me), That the Vertue of a Man's Wife, will never attone for the Loſs of his Friend: And that her Chaſtity is the worſt Remedy, ſhe cou'd have thought on, to ſupply the Loſs of a Son and Heir.—Nay, if ſhe ſhou'd not believe me, I am determin'd (if you think there may be no Danger in it) to let her alone to try the Experiment.

[270] SIR, I have fairly told you my Story, and beg you will expatiate upon the Subject. Pray give a little of your ſeaſonable Advice to theſe Profeſſors of Grace without Gracefulneſs.—Perſwade 'em, if you can, to conſider, That a Wife's Chaſtity, is in the Nature of Laudanum to her Husband; a juſt Quantity promotes Reſt:—Too little occaſions Reſtleſsneſs, and too much gives convulſive Ravings:—Such a deſperate Old Gentleman as you are, may venture to ſay, too, That Continency, by Conſtitution, is rather a Happineſs, than a Vertue: And, that a Wife, who ſets up her Chaſtity, as a Specifick, to cure all Uneaſineſſes, is more inſupportable, than a Quack, who can cure, only, the Tooth-ach, and maintains (for that Reaſon) that the Stone, the Gout, and the Conſumption, are Diſtempers, of no Conſequence.

YOURS, J. W.

INSTEAD of complying with the Requeſt of my Correſpondent, and coming in, to his Aſſiſtance, againſt ſo impenetrable a Championeſs; I ſhall add to his Complaint, as juſt a one of my own.—That I, too, loſe my Reſt, by WOMEN.—What they do, or what they ſuffer, is for ever invading, and overwhelming, my Purpoſes.—Their Charms, [271] and their Miſchefs, preſs in upon me, from Town, and Country.—The Poſt groans as we do, under the Burthen of their Vanities.—But, what I think ought to be reckon'd among my Sufferings not deſerv'd, is,—That it often coſts me a Groat, to read one of their Secret Hiſtories, not worth a Half-penny. My Intelligencers, from remote Quarters, make no manner of Conſcience in their Correſpondence, with me.—For, while they charge the Follies they acquaint me with, upon thoſe to whom they belong; They take care to charge the Poſtage upon a Perſon, who is wholly Innocent.

I WAS lately in Deſpair of working any Reformation upon Offenders, who poſſeſs the Power of bewitching thoſe who examine them: But there came to my Hands, ſome Time ſince, a ſhort Treatiſe, in Manuſcript, ſubſcrib'd by Seven Ladies, its Authors; who intitle themſelves The Order of Angels. Into this Order, they tell me, they propoſe to admit all the BELIEVING Fair, (which, if they do, they can never fail of a moſt comprehenſive Eſtabliſhment!) The Buſineſs, they are to be admitted for, is, to learn, it ſeems, to CONCEIVE after a new Manner, ſo as to be brought to Bed of themſelves; and, by Virtue of ſuch New Birth, be made Kings, and Prieſts to God, and become what All the Beſt of them were, at firſt, created by the Lord to be, Real, Bleſſed, Heavenly, ANGELS.

[272]THESE being the Words of the Ladies Treatiſe, I am reſtor'd to ſome Degree of Hope; and ſhall ſhortly form a Reſolution to disburthen myſelf of a Care I am unequal to, and deliver over the whole Sex, into the Hands of theſe Able Undertakers.—Mean while, here are Three Letters.—The Firſt is a mortifying Proof, that Avarice can teach Women of Fortune, to think as poorly, as the Loweſt of their Species: And the Second, and Third, relate to a Grievance, almoſt too common to be worth complaining of; I ſhou'd not therefore, have inſerted theſe Two, but for the Sake of a Rhetorical Figure in the Laſt, concerning a Snail, whereby I have been able to gather, That the Perſon accus'd is leſs pardonable, for having no Money, than for having no Conſcience, or Generoſity.

To the PLAIN-DEALER.

SIR,

I HAVE been ſo unhappy, for this great while, as to indulge a Paſſion for a young Lady; in whom I thought I might reaſonably promiſe my ſelf an agreeable Companion, and a virtuous Wife. But alas! how vain and uncertain are all our Hopes! A near Relation of mine, who married her Siſter, by Errors, and Misfortunes, (which generally go together) is well nigh reduced, which, I am too ſenſible hath created a Prejudice to our Family. My preſent Circumſtances [273] are ſuch as I think could not well be excepted againſt; but am ſo well acquainted with the Effects of Prejudice, that I dare not hazard revealing my Mind; fearing it may totally debar me, the Satisfaction, which I, ſometimes (but alas! ſeldom) enjoy, of being in her Company.

AS She is your conſtant Reader, the incerting this in one of your Papers, may, very poſſibly, incite her to pity him who loves too well to dare to offend. Hoping Fortune may ſome time offer the happy Means of poſſeſſing her; the only Object of my Deſires. Excuſe this Trouble.

I am Yours, &c.

Good Mr. PLAIN DEALER.

A DISTRESSED Kinſwoman of mine, deſires you would be pleaſed to inſert the Epiſtle incloſed (which I received from her by the laſt Poſt) in your next Paper, if poſſible, for a publick Warning to our unguarded Sex. And if you would take upon you to warn theſe unthinking Monſters, the Men, by deſcribing the Heinouſneſs of their Crime; you would do a laudable Act, and worthy your ſelf; for Men of this Complexion are become ſo daring of late, that none but a PLAIN DEALER dare meddle with them.

I am, Your Conſtant Admirer, E. A.
[274]
Dear Couſin,

YOU might too juſtly have condemn'd my Folly, if it had not been too, too ſeverely puniſhed already. I am therefore to intreat you to lay by your Anger, leaſt you ſtill aggravate my too rigid Fate, and lend a compaſſionate Ear to this doleful Tragedy, and conſider withal, that 'tis I,—your near Relation, who bear the principal, and inſupportable Part in it. No Hopes remain—to ſpeak at once the unwilling Truth, and utter all my Diſgrace—I have been betray'd! betray'd by gaudy Outſide! expecting Wedlock and a wealthy Spouſe: But, Confuſion ſeize him—The Snail carries his all upon his Back!—Nor is this all: The upbraiding Conſequence too plainly appears,—The Conſequence—that ſwells the Tide of all my Woe.—I can no more.—Let others who are free, learn from my Woes to ſhun the alluring Bait. And leaſt ſuch Treachery ſhould be any longer a Secret, Dear Couſin, let me, as a ſmall Recompence for this long Train of Evils, have the poor Pleaſure of being a Warning to others; and, to that Intent, I humbly intreat that you would get this publickly printed the firſt Opportunity, and forgive the Error of,

Your much Afflicted till Death, But loving Couſin, Z. H.

*⁎* P.S. Do not forget to have this Printed.

The Plain Dealer. No 90.
FRIDAY, January 29. 1724.

[275]
Unuſquiſque ſua noverit ire via.—
PROPERT.

To the PLAIN-DEALER,

SIR,

IN Return for that Pleaſure with which I have read your Abridgment of PARUTA's Soliloquy, in one of your late Papers, I ſend you an Abſtract from a much more modern Treatiſe, Intitled, An Enquiry into the Nature of Society, wherein the Author has conſider'd Hypocriſie, as it is the Effect of our Common Self-Love, in a manner, that is equally new, and delightful; and with a Penetration, as Remarkable as the Pleaſantry of his Images.—In ſhort, His Deſcriptions appear to me ſo full of Nature, Wit, and Livelineſs, that I believe they cannot fail to give great Pleaſure to your Readers: And, for that Reaſon, I have tranſcrib'd what follows, and ſend it you, for their Entertainment.

[276]

THEY (ſays this too near Obſerver) who have never taken Notice of the Converſation of a Spruce Mercer, and a Young Lady, his Cuſtomer, who comes to his Shop, have neglected a Scene of Life, that is very entertaining.—HIS Buſineſs is, to ſell as much Silk as he can, at a Price by which he ſhall get what he propoſes:—As to the Lady, what SHE would be at is, to pleaſe her Fancy, and buy cheaper by a Groat or Sixpence a Yard, than the Things, ſhe wants, are commonly ſold at.

FROM the Impreſſion, the Gallantry of our Sex has made upon her, ſhe imagines, That ſhe has a fine Mein, and eaſie Behaviour, and a peculiar Sweetneſs of Voice:—That ſhe is handſome; and, if not beautiful, at leaſt more agreeable, than moſt young Women ſhe knows.—As ſhe has no Pretenſions, to purchaſe Things with leſs Money than other People, except thoſe, which are built on her Good Qualities, ſo ſhe ſets herſelf off, to the beſt Advantage her Wit, and Diſcretion, will let her.—The Thoughts of Love are here out of the Caſe: So, on one Hand, ſhe has no Room for playing the Tyrant; and giving herſelf angry, or peeviſh Airs; And, on the other, ſhe has more Liberty of ſpeaking kindly, and being affable, than ſhe can have, on almoſt any other Occaſion.—She knows, that Abundance of well-bred People come to his Shop; and endeavours to render herſelf [277] as amiable, as Vertue, and the Rules of Decency, allow of.

BEFORE her Coach is yet quite ſtopp'd, ſhe is approach'd by a Gentleman-like Man, who has every thing clean, and faſhionable, about him: And who, in low Obeiſance, pays her Homage, and hands her into the Shop.—There, immediately, he ſlips from her; and through a Bye-Way, that remains viſible, only for half a Moment, with great Addreſs, entrenches himſelf behind the Counter; whence, facing her, with a profound Reverence, he begs the Favour of knowing her Commands,

LET her ſay, and diſlike, what ſhe pleaſes, ſhe can never be directly contradicted: She deals with a Man, in whom, conſummate Patience is one of the Myſteries of his Trade. Whatever Trouble ſhe creates, ſhe is ſure to hear nothing but the moſt obliging Language, and has always before her a chearful Countenance, where Joy, and Reſpect, ſeem to be blended with Good Humour, and altogether make up an artificial Serenity, more engaging than untaught Nature is able to produce.

WHEN Two Perſons are ſo well met, the Converſation muſt be very agreeable, as well as extreamly mannerly, tho' they talk, about Trifles. While ſhe remains irreſolute what to take, he ſeems to be the ſame, in adviſing her: But, when once ſhe has choſen, he immediately becomes poſitive, [278] That it is the Beſt of the Sort. He continues to extol her Fancy; and, the oftener he looks upon it, the more he wonders, that he ſhou'd not, before have diſcover'd the Pre-eminence of it, over any Thing he has in his Shop.—He founds her Capacity, finds out her Blind-ſide; and, by Fifty little Stratagems, makes her overvalue her own Judgment, as well as the Commodity ſhe wou'd purchaſe.

THE greateſt Advantage he has over her, lies in the moſt material Part of the Commerce between them, the Debate about the Price; which he knows, to a Farthing, and ſhe is wholly ignorant of: Therefore, he no where more egregiouſly impoſes on her Underſtanding. But, tho' he has, here, the Liberty of telling what Lies he pleaſes, as to the Prime Coſt, and the Money he has refus'd, yet he truſts not to Them only. He attacks her Vanity, and makes her believe the moſt incredible Things in the World, concerning His Weakneſs, and her own Superior Abilities.—He had taken a Reſolution (he ſays) never to part with that Piece, under ſuch a Price.—But ſhe has the Power of talking him out of his Purpoſes. He proteſts, muſt loſe by her; but, ſince ſhe ſeems to have a Fancy for it, and is reſolv'd to give no more, rather than diſoblige a Lady he has ſo extraordinary a Value for, He will let her have it.—Only begs, [279] That another Time ſhe won't ſtand ſo hard with him.

IN the mean Time, the Buyer, who knows, that ſhe is no Fool; and has a voluble Tongue, is eaſily perſwaded, that ſhe has a very winning Way of talking: And, thinking it ſufficient, for the Sake of Good-breeding, to diſown a Senſe of her Merit, in ſome witty Repartee, ſhe ſwallows, very contentedly, the Subſtance of every Thing he has told her: And the Upſhot is, That with the Satisfaction of having ſav'd Ninepence a Yard, ſhe has bought her Silk exactly at the ſame Price as any Body elſe might have had it for.

IT is poſſible, that this Lady, for want of being ſufficiently flatter'd, or for a Fault ſhe is pleas'd to find in his Behaviour; or, perhaps, in the Tying of his Neckcloth; or, for ſome other Diſlike, as Subſtantial, may be loſt; and her Cuſtom beſtow'd on ſome other of the Fraternity. But, where many of them live in a Cluſter, It is not eaſily determin'd which Shop to go to: And the Reaſons, ſome of the Fair-Sex have for their Choice are often very whimſical, and and kept as a Great Secret.—Among the Mercers, a Fair-Dealer muſt keep before his own Door; and, to draw in random Cuſtomers, make uſe of no other Importunity, than an Obſequious Air; and a Bow, to every well-dreſs'd Female, that offers to look towards his Shop.

[280] BUT, I have ſeen another Method o [...] Inviting Cuſtomers, the moſt diſtant in the World from what I have been ſpeaking of.—I mean, that, which is practis'd by the Watermen, on thoſe, whom, by their Mien, and Garb, they know to be no Londoners.—It is pleaſant to ſee half a Dozen of theſe Tritons ſurround a Man, whom they never ſaw in their Lives before, and Two of them, who can get neareſt, clapping Each an Arm over his Neck, hug him, as familiarly, as if he was their Brother, newly return'd from an Eaſt-India Voyage: A Third lays hold of his Hand,—Another of his Sleeve,—His Coat—the Buttons of it—or any thing he can come at: While a Fifth, or a Sixth, who has ſcamper'd twice round him already, without being able to get at him, plants himſelf directly before the Man in Hold; and, within Three Inches of his Noſe, contradicting his Rivals with an open-mouth'd Cry, ſhews him a dreadful Set of large Teeth, and a Remainder of Bread and Cheeſe, which the Country Man's Arrival had hinder'd him from ſwallowing.

AT all This no Offence is taken. The Peaſant thinks they are making much of him; and, therefore, far from oppoſing them, he patiently ſuffers himſelf to be puſh'd, or pull'd, which way they direct.—He has not Delicacy to find Fault with their Dirt, and Sweat; for he has been us'd to it, from his Cradle: And it is no Diſturbance to [281] him, to hear half a Score People, ſome of them at his Ear, and the fartheſt not Five Foot from him, bawl out, as if he was a Hundred Yards diſtant.—He is conſcicious, that he makes no leſs Noiſe, when he is merry, Himſelf; and is ſecretly pleas'd, with their boiſterous Uſage. The hawling, and pulling him about, he conſtrues, as a Courtſhip, which he can feel, and underſtand: And he can't help wiſhing them well, for the Eſteem they ſeem to have for him.

HE loves to be taken notice of, and admires the Londoners for being ſo Earneſt in their Deſires to ſerve him, for the Value of Threepence: Whereas, in the Country, he muſt firſt tell People what he wants, and tho' he lays out Three or Four Shillings, he has hardly a Word ſpoke to him, unleſs it is in Anſwer to the Queſtions he is forc'd to ask them! This Alacrity in his Behalf, moves his Gratitude, to all the Watermen, and being unwilling to diſoblige any, he knows not which of them to pitch upon—I have ſeen a Man think all this, or ſomething like it, as plainly as the Noſe, in his Face: And move along, all the while, very contentedly, under a Load of Solicitors, carrying down to the Waterſide, with a ſmiling Countenance Seven or Eight Stone more than his own Weight.

THERE is ſomething, ſo ſtrongly touch'd, ſo pictureſque, and ſo diverting, in theſe Two [282] Deſcriptions, that I cou'd not reſiſt the Temptation I was under to ſend 'em you, with my Requeſt, That you would publiſh them, in one of your PLAIN DEALERS: Where, if I am not miſtaken, they will make a very agreeable Figure.

I am, SIR, Your conſtant Reader. and humble Servant, TERENTIUS.

The Plain Dealer. No 91.
MONDAY, February 1. 1725.

—Furit alter amore.
MANIL.
Naſcentes morimur, finiſque ab origine pendet.
Ibid.

IN the Deciſion of that Important Queſtion, What is ſtrongeſt? which we read of, in the Sacred Writings, LOVE and DEATH, ſtand out, diſtinguiſh'd: And two of my Correſpondents have given me an Opportunity [283] of placing both theſe Invincible Powers in full View, near one another: A Poſition, which, like the Contraſte, obſerv'd in the Poetry or Painting, of Judicious Maſters, ſets off, and throws forward, every Object, by its OPPOSITE; and rounds, and raiſes, to the Eye, what (without ſuch artful Diſpoſition) might be loſt; and lie too flat, to catch the Notice of a ſlight Remarker.

I SHALL introduce the Lover's Letter by a Reflection, concerning the Impoſſibility of deſcribing Love, and the Benefits, which Society owes this Paſſion; from a Poetical PICTURE of it, which I have more than once, made mention of, in the Courſe of theſe Papers,

The rougheſt Paſſions gently learn to move,
And Savage Hearts are humaniz'd, by Love:
Love, in a Chain of Converſe, bound Mankind,
And poliſh'd, and awak'd, the rugged Mind.
Pity, Truth, Juſtice, Openneſs of Heart,
Courage, Politeneſs, Eloquence, and Art;
That generous Fire, with which Ambition flames!
And all th' unſleeping Soul's Divineſt Aims:
Touch'd, by a Beam from Love, burn up, more, bright;
Proud of the godlike Power to give Delight!
Thus, have I vainly try'd, with Strokes too faint,
Love, in his known, and outward Marks, to paint:
Forgetful, that, of old, they veiled his Face;
And, wiſely, cover'd, what they cou'd not trace.
[284]
Lovely Creator of my Soul's ſoft Pain!
Pity the Pencil, that aſpires in vain.
Vers'd in Love' Pangs, and taught his Pow'r, by you,
Skill'd, I preſum'd, that what I felt, I drew:
But I have err'd—and, with delirious Aim,
Wou'd picture MOTION, and impriſon FLAME!
He, who can Light'ning's FLASH to Colours bind,
May paint Love's Influence, on the Lover's Mind.

To the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

EVER ſince you have oblig'd the World with your Paper, I have taken a great deal of Pleaſure in reading it; ſuch juſt Sentiments, and your peculiar Method of Plain Dealing, muſt charm the intelligent, and give Satisfaction to every one, who is ſuſceptible of Tenderneſs and Good Nature.

AMONG the Subjects, which you have curſorily touch'd on, LOVE, that Heavenly Paſſion, (notwithſtanding your grand Climacteric) ſeems to claim a conſiderable Share in your Compoſition; elſe, how could you ſo tenderly expreſs your ſelf concerning the Affair of Lucinda? With what Energy did you Diſcourſe! Humanity appear'd in every Word, and I believe it impoſſible for the moſt Ardent LOVER, to ſpeak of Love, with greater Emotion, than you did in that Beautiful PLAIN DEALER.

[285] I HAVE for ſome time been in Love, with a Woman, inveſted with all the Graces which accompliſh the Sex; And, as I am entirely devoted to that Paſſion, when I read that Paper, of Lucinda, I felt within me ſomething new, That argued ſtill, for Love; ſomething, ſo natural, ſo moving! that it was impoſſible for one, in my Circumſtance, to withſtand it. The Opinion I had already conceiv'd of my Beautiful Diſturber, heighten'd by a growing and vertuous Paſſion, made me a Thouſand times delight my ſelf with an Imagination, that my Emilia reſembled Lucinda! The Love I bear this moſt agreeable Woman, has ſo deeply rooted it ſelf in my Heart, that neither Time nor Accident, can eradicate it.—All my Thoughts center in her, and when abſent from her, I have loſt the Soul, that animates my Life, and my Mind is as effectually Dead, as my Body will be, when I am no more, and ſhall have learnt the Power of forgetting her.

MY Paſſion for this dear Creature has been ſometime Dormant: About two Years ago, my Affairs obliged me to go Abroad, when our Acquaintance was but little cultivated; yet, an Infant Paſſion, even then made me ſolely her Admirer: Such Beauty, Good-Nature, Wit, and lively Converſation, as are rarely to be met with in one Perſon, ſo captivated me, that I could think of nothing but the dear Emilia.—When I [286] return'd Home, my Paſſion encreaſed daily, inſomuch, that at this Time I am a Stranger to every Thing in the World, but Love, and Emilia! without her, I ſhall be the moſt unhappy Man alive.—I dread the Thoughts of her being unkind, and Heaven grant, they may be groundleſs!—I have declar'd my Paſſion to her, and, if I don't flatter my ſelf, ſhe appears to have ſome regard for me; this you will readily conclude gives me Hope; but, alas! I fear too, or I ſhou'd be no Lover.

OUR Circumſtances are very different, and we ſeem in this Caſe only, to be Diffident in one another; As for my Part, a genteel Employment is the only Fortune I have to truſt to, and therefore, according to the laudable Cuſtom of Bargain and Sale, in the Affair of Marriage, I am afraid I have too little Plea that Way; yet, ſhe is entirely at her own Diſpoſal, and can, without asking any Body Leave, make me the happieſt Man on Earth.—Dear Mr. Plain Dealer, as you have been an Advocate for Lucinda, I beg a little of your Aſſiſtance; What muſt I do? without her I am inevitably loſt, and am afraid it may be ſo, if you don't intervene with your good Advice; I beg you to publiſh this, in your next; it may have ſome Effect on the dear Emilia; I am almoſt perſwaded ſhe does not hate me; And, yet when I reflect on the mercenary Ways of the World, I am plung'd into the utmoſt Deſpair.

[287] SIR, As you are a Man of Reaſon, make not light of my Condition, but exert your ſelf to aſſiſt me; I am afraid I have exceeded the Bounds of a Letter, pray correct the Miſtakes in Senſe. I forget every Thing but the dear Emilia.—Angels protect her, and make her kind! Your Advice, how to proceed, will be very grateful, and your publiſhing This, ſave me a great deal of Confuſion: For ſhe will know it comes from me, by a Declaration in it, which none elſe can perceive.

I am, SIR, Your conſtant Reader, and humble Servant, C. K.

THERE is no Spectacle, more profitably terrible, than that of a Man, who lies, expiring his Soul, on his Death-bed.—To ſee how the Spirits ſhrink inward, and retire to the Heart; which is beating with convulſive Anguiſh! while the Hands and Feet, its moſt remote Dependancies, are firſt incolden'd to a faſhioned Clay, as if Death crept in at the Nails, and wou'd, by Surprize, from both Extreams, make ſure of the vital Center.

THE Mind would fain utter it ſelf, but the Organs of the Voice are ſo debilitated, that it cannot. The Eyes now ſettle to a dim Fixedneſs; [288] which but a little before, was as ſwift as the Shoots of Lightning, as nimble as Thought, and as bright as the poliſh'd Diamond! The Countenance (through which perhaps there ſhined a lovely Majeſty, even to the Captivating of admiring Souls, is alter'd into frightful Paleneſs, and the Languor of a ghaſtly Stillneſs.—The Tongue is ſilent, which commanded a Family, nay, perhaps a Kingdom; and kept every Thing in Awe, with the Importance of its Motion.—The Form that was, Yeſterday, ſo graceful, is now become a Thing ſo full of Horror, that Children are afraid to look upon it; and muſt, therefore, be tranſmitted from its Pleaſures, and its Paſſions,—from all the Scences of its inchanting Blandiſhments, to a dark and ſilent Grave.

THERE is even the Difference of two ſeveral Worlds, betwixt a King, enamel'd with his Robes and Jewels, ſitting in his Imperial State; and his Poſture, Figure and Condition when conſign'd to his Six Foot of Royalty, to his Box of everlaſting Obſcurity. And yet this Change is without any viſible, ſubſtantial, Diminution: All the Limbs remain perfect, as they were, without Diſlocation, or Contraction.—Whence Scaliger defines Death to be but the Ceſſation of the Soul's Functions: As if it were rather a Reſtraint, than a Diſſolution. What ſeems wanting, is chiefly Colour, Heat, and Motion; yet, that groſs Object, which is left to the Spectator's Eyes, remains [289] remains now but a Compound of the two ignobler Elements, Water and Earth; while the two purer, Fire and Air; are winged away, as fitter Attendants on the Soul, than on the extinguiſh'd Body.

WHEN this happens to one, whoſe Converſation hath indeared him to us, when we ſee his Eyes put on Death, and hear the tolling Bell give publick Notice of it, what Soul can then loſe a Thought on the fugitive Joys of Pleaſure! What a Bubble, what a Puff, what a Wink of Life is Man! And with what a general, and ſure, Succeſs, does Death ſtand over Humane Nature, always ſtriking, here and there, and exerciſing an unbounded Triumph!

I HAVE, lately, from ſuch a Sight as This, learnt both Humility and Elevation:—The One, to lower my Eſteem of a Body, which muſt, one Day periſh in unlovely Rottenneſs.—The other, to Reverence a Soul, which after having liv'd here but as a Sojourner, reaſcends, when its Houſe of Fleſh is demoliſh'd, with a Vigour as unreſtrain'd, and an Eſſence as refin'd and glorious, as the un-imbodied, and coeleſtial, Angels!

Mr. PLAIN DEALER,

IF you think theſe few foregoing Hints of mine worthy to fill up a Corner of your Paper by incerting them, you will oblige your conſtant Reader,

AULUS MARTIUS.

[290]THERE are Deſcriptions in Spencer's Writings, much more bold, and ſtrongly figur'd, than thoſe of almoſt any other Poet, Antient, or Modern; His Fancy was quick, penetrating, vaſt! and his Conceptions ſo clearly poſſeſs'd, that he ſeems to have embodied his Idea's; and, given us, inſtead of his Thoughts, the very Subſtance of the Things he thought of.—There is, in his Works, an Image of DEATH ſo dreadfully drawn, and painted in ſuch glowing Colours, that (having got it by Heart, when I was a Boy) it made ſo lively an Impreſſion on me, that I never fail'd for a long time after, to ſee it, at, my Bed's Foot as ſoon as the Candle was carried out of the Room—and met it, in every Churchyard, I paſs'd over, after Sunſet.

Death, with a Bow, in his Left hand, was ſeen,
And his long Arrows, ſlanting from his Side;
All, naked, dangerous, and deadly keen:
With Feathers, in the Blood of Millions died,
Such the fierce Indians in their Quivers, hide!
Theſe be ſhot, careleſs; ever, changing Place;
Strait, to what Mark ſo e're he next him ſpy'd:
Nor was there Pow'er in Art, to ſhun his Caſe,
Or cure th' eternal Wounds, he makes in Human Race,
As pale, and wan, as Aſhes, was his Look,
His Body lean, and meagre, as a Rake;
Shrunk was his Skin, like a dry, wither'd, Root:
Cold to the Touch; and dreary as a Snake!
T [...], as the quivering Air, he ſeem'd to ſhake!
His Dreſs was Canvas, ſtrain'd, and girded, tight,
With an uncomely Belt, of twiſted Brake,
And, on his Head, he wore a Helmet light,
Made of a Dead Man's Scull, a ſtrange, and ghaſtly Sight!

The Plain Dealer. No 92.
FRIDAY, February 5. 1725.

[291]
Nos Numerus ſumus—
HOR.
Mr. PLAIN DEALER,

HUMANITY has inſtructed me, That he who lets a Secret die with him, from the Knowledge of which the World might receive Benefit, is an Enemy to the Good of Mankind, and a Diſhonour, and Misfortune, to his Country.—Phyſicians may boaſt, as they pleaſe, of the Vertues of their Simples, I know a Compound, call'd Flattery, that is a better Remedy than any of 'em.

I AM one of Thoſe, whom Fortune has the leaſt Kindneſs in the World for. This, however, ſhe did for me.—My Father Dying, while I was a Child, ſhe put it into my Uncle's Head to take Care of me; and he ſent me to the Univerſity; where I have now been (at his Charge) about two Years, and a half.—I come up to London, every Chriſtmas, to paſs a Month at my Uncle's, who is a Rich Merchant, in the [292] City; and give him an Account, as he calls it, what I have learnt, during the other Eleven. His Education has tinctur'd him with that infallible Mark of a narrow Spirit,—The Deſtroying Half the Merit of his Purpoſes, by an ungraceful Manner of Executing them.—And he has ſo often, taken Delight to put me, coarſely, in mind of his Charity, That he robb'd me, even of the Comfort, which He laid out his Money to procure me.

THIS laſt Chriſtmas, being ſeiz'd by a violent Fit of the Gout; he was roaring out, one Day, in Extremity of Pain, and Peeviſhneſs:—He cou'd not, he ſaid, imagine, how ſo temperate a Man, as He was, ſhou'd come by ſuch a Diſtemper as the Gout! If he had been a Glutton, or a Drunkard, he ſhou'd not have wonder'd at it!—But, for a Small-Beer-Drinker! One, who had always been remarkable for his Self-Denial, to fall under the Torture of ſuch a Diſeaſe, as the Gout!—It was very hard!—It was very ſtrange!—And he cou'd not, for his Part, tell, how it was to be accounted for.

IT was my Good-Luck, at that Time, to have been newly reading a Collection of Miſcellaneous Poems; and I bethought my ſelf of ſomething, that I met with, in it, which had pleas'd me very much; and made an Impreſſion on my Memory.—I ran, and fetch'd the Book, and opening [293] it to the Place, put it into my Uncle's Hands, and told him, He might there, find the Reaſon, of that Misfortune, he had been complaining of.—He deſir'd me to read it to him, and I did it, as follows.

"THE Learned Sydenham do's not doubt,
"But PROFOUND THOUGHT will bring the Gout:
"And, that, with Back on Couch, we lie,
"Becauſe our Reaſon ſoar'd too high.
"As Cannons, when they mount vaſt Pitches,
"Are tumbled back upon their Britches.

MY Uncle ſmil'd, and ſaid, 'Twas pretty. He made me read it ſo often, that he has got it by Heart: And repeats it Twenty Times a Day, in all Companies, as a Proof of his Nephew's Ingenuity. He never cou'd abide Poetry: But, is now grown very fond of it.—He cou'd not have believ'd, he ſays, that there was ſo much GOOD REASON in Rhyming. In fine, I am grown a Favourite; and he allows, I have a great deal of WIT, ever ſince I prov'd his Diſtemper to be the Conſequences of his JUDGMENT, and profound Thinking.—I cou'd not forbear ſending you this Intelligence, as a Hint, to ſome of your Readers, who may benefit themſelves by the Example.

I am, SIR, Your moſt humble Servant, FAVONIUS.

[294]I AM oblig'd to the Zeal of a Friend unknown, for the following Good Counſel; which I take very kindly; and give him my Word, (in his own Phraſe) That I will follow it, as far forth as I ſhall be able.

My FRIEND,

FORASMUCH as Thou art lifted up, as a PLAIN DEALER, among thy Bretheren, and haſt taken an Office upon thee, which it behoveth thee to diſcharge with Wiſdom, Moderation, and Integrity: Verily, therefore, I am moved to warn thee, that thou becomeſt heedful, ſo far forth as thou ſhalt be able, that thou neither derideſt the Unhappy; nor holdeſt the Meek Man in Scorn.—When thou art moved, by the Sharpneſs of the Wit which worketh within thee, thou oughteſt to ſhoot thy Arrows at the Mighty.—Yea, at the Men, who pride themſelves in the Strength of the Fleſh, and have no feeling of the Spirit, that laboureth within them. Take Heed, alſo, that thou ſlideſt not into Vanity, when thou heareſt thy ſelf well ſpoken off; neither inflameſt thy ſelf into Anger, when thou chanceſt to be rebuked.—Verily, Friend, this Great City may be liken'd unto a Field, which hath rank Weeds: If, by thy Writing, thou canſt root them forth, and throw them, on a Heap, from among the Wheat, thy Name ſhall become Exalted, in the Mouths of the Brethren.—If thou art, even as thou ſeemeſt [295] to be, thou will deliver forth a Reproof, againſt the Scorn, which light Men, of thy Perſwaſion, make of the Habit of us Friends. Thou knoweſt, the Corn of the Field is not ſo BEAUTIFUL, as the Butter-Flower; neither is the Pomegranate ſo alluring to the Eye, as the John-Apple.—Nevertheleſs, the Corn of the Field is more USEFUL, than the Butter-Flower: And the Inſide of the Pomegranate more delicious, than the John-Apple.—Lo, Thou mayeſt make the Application, thy ſelf.

Thy loving Friend, (And Reader, while thou writeſt with Prudence) AMINADAB.

Mr. PLAIN-DEALER.

SIR,

AM a plain Man my ſelf; but have, to my Wife, a young Woman, that is ſo far from being plain, that ſhe is the likelieſt, of our whole Pariſh.—She ſings, dances, and talks French; and, in ſhort, has a great Deal of to'ther End of the Town Breeding in her. But here is an Impudent Young Dog, that comes to my Houſe, whether I will or no; upon no other Account, truly! but becauſe I have a handſome Wife! I wou'd have believ'd him, tho' he had not told me ſo; for he takes very great Liberties [296] with her, before my Face!—I am inform'd ſhe came by him, at the Maſquerade. She ſays, She can't tell how to get rid of him,—I deſire, therefore, to know, Whether I ought not to take ſome Meaſures with him? And, in particular, Whether I might not, (with a ſafe Conſcience) ſwear the Peace againſt him? For, without ſome ſuch Security, I am afraid to forbid him my Houſe, myſelf: And if my Wife does it, ſhe ſays, He won't mind Her.—Am, in no ſmall Trouble,

Your Friend to ſerve you, HEZEKIAH HORNEY.

To his Reverence, (the moſt Profound, and Impartial) The PLAIN DEALER, for the Liberties of LONDON.

The Humble PETITION of LUKE THOROUGHSTITCH, Colonel of the City Militia.

SHEWETH,

THAT your Petitioner is a freeborn Engliſhman, and has a Stomach, that loves Liberty. But, being oblig'd to eat, (ſince he left off Houſe-keeping) among a Sett of She-Tories, he can never dine, without a Reſtraint, that he takes to be an Abuſe of our happy Conſtitution; and which was never known, but in a State of Nature, [297] before Kings were (by mutual Compact) deputed to execute Laws for us.

THAT they perſecute him, ever and anon, with Much Good may do you,—I'm glad to ſee you eat ſo heartily,—A good Stomach is a Sign of Health,—and ſuch like Exorbitant Encroachments.—And, that, Yeſterday, for Example, after he had eaten, at moſt, but ſix Slices, and was, (peaceably, and without Cauſe of Offence to any of the Company) preparing to enter upon the Seventh; he ſaw the Eyes of the whole Circle, moſt tyrannically fix'd upon him, with an Air of arbitrary, and unreaſonable WONDER; to the manifeſt Abaſement of your Petitioner's Courage; and the Violation of his UNDOUBTED PRIVILEDGE, to eat, as long as he finds himſelf hungry.

HE, therefore, moſt humbly prays, That your Reverence would condeſcend to take this Grievance into your Conſideration; and acquaint theſe Invaders of the Peoples Rights, that there was a Reſerve, either expreſs'd, or tacitly imply'd, in the ORIGINAL CONTRACT, That every Man ſhould have Property, in his own Appetite; and eat, and drink, to pleaſe himſelf; and not to humour the Taſte of his Company.

And your Petitioner (as in Duty bound) ſhall pray, as heartily, as he eats, &c.
LUKE THOROUGHSTITCH.
[298]

To the Author of the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

I HAVE ſeen the firſt Part of a Satire, which is juſt publiſh'd, under the Title of THE UNIVERSAL PASSION. Tho' the Author's Name is not before it, it is eaſily diſtinguiſhed to be the Work of ſome conſiderable Genius.—And the Delight which, I obſerve, you take in Praiſing whatever has real Merit, convinces me, That I ſhall contribute to your own, as well as your Reader's, Pleaſure; by having tranſcrib'd a few Verſes, from this Satire, which (unleſs I greatly deceive deceive myſelf) carry with them the moſt ſhining Marks, of a Spirit, that is truely poetical.—Speaking of a Kind of People, call'd LORDS, he obſerves, with a great Deal of Good-Breeding, that the firſt Place (in his Satire) is Due to Quality: And accordingly makes Way for them, like a Perſon, juſtly conſcious of the Reſpect which ought to be ſhown them; I mean the Generality of them;—for ſome are far from deſerving the Diſtinction.

My Lord comes forward,—Forward let him come!
Ye Vulgar! at your Peril, give him Room:
He ſtands for Fame, on his Forefather's Feet,
By Heraldry prov'd valiant, and diſcreet.
With what becoming Pride he throws his Eyes
Above the Man, by THREE DESCENTS leſs wiſe!
[299]For Men, like Figures, paſs for high, or baſe,
Slight, or important, merely by their Place.
If Virtues at his noble Hands you crave,
You bid him raiſe his Fathers, from the Grave.
Men ſhou'd preſs forward, in Fame's glorious Chace,
Nobles look backward; and ſo, loſe the Race.
Since Titles ought to mark the Juſt, and Wiſe,
The Knave or Fool, who wears a Title,—LIES.

I CAN'T forbear following this very agreeable Guide, ſo far, down Hill, as 'till we meet with a Rural Squire, a Hunting; and in Company with a Pack of Dogs that run ſweetly, and with great Vigour, as well as Harmony!

The Squire is proud, to ſee his COƲRSER ſtrain;
Or well-breath'd BEAGLES ſweep, along the Plain.
Say, dear Hippolitus!—whoſe Drink is Ale,
And whoſe whole Learning is a Chriſtmas Tale!
Whoſe Miſtreſs is ſaluted with a Smack;
And Friend receiv'd, with Thump upon the Back!
When thy ſleek Gelding nimbly leaps the Mound;
And Ringwood opens, o'er the tainted Ground;
Is That THY Praiſe?—Let Ringwood's Fame alone:
Juſt Ringwood leaves each Rival Beaſt his own.—&c.

I ſhall make no Apology, for having troubled you with ſo long a Letter, becauſe Pleaſure, the more it is lengthned, is the more welcome to the Receiver.

I am, SIR, Your moſt humble Servant, GRACCHUS.

The Plain Dealer. No 93.
MONDAY, February 8. 1725.

[300]
Somnia, terrores magicos, miracula, ſagas,
Nocturnos lemures, portentaque Theſſala!—

To the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

THE only Account I ſhall give you, with Regard to myſelf, is,—That I am a Fellow of one of the Colleges, in this Univerſity; my chief Deſign in Writing, bing to ſtrengthen you, with ſome new Materials for the better Performance of that Promiſe, you were once pleas'd to make us, of proving, that the Women are a great deal wiſer than We are.

MY Father, very lately, ſent me down, into the Fens, to make Love to a young Lady, who is Miſtreſs of a conſiderable Fortune: Where I diſcover'd, to my no ſmall Mortification, That All my Learning, hitherto, has [301] taught me Nothing, that deſerves Compariſon, with the Univerſal Knowledge, which I met with, in that diſcreet, and profound, Family!—Not Heaven alone, but Earth, Air, Fire, Water; Birds, Beaſts, Stocks, Stones!—Every Part of the ſtill, or moving, mute, or ſpeaking, Creation, has contributed to the Erudition of my more than accompliſh'd Miſtreſs!—All Things been laid open, to her, if not in their Natures, I am ſure, I may ſay, in their Meanings.

IN ſhort, after Three Days unſucceſsful Endeavours to fathom my Fate, with Regard to this infallible Lady, I am come back to my College, almoſt too humble to wiſh for the Poſſeſſion of a Bleſſing, ſo uncommon.—I ſaw a female Dwarf, in my Miſtreſs's Neighbourhood, and could not help thinking, while I was looking on her, and liſtening to a little Hiſtory, of her having been ſerv'd up in a Gooſe-Pye, That this Pocket Abridgement of Womanhood might as modeſtly pretend to incorporate Herſelf with one of the Gyants, in the King of Pruſſia's frightful Regiment, as I, to match my Mind with one, whoſe Comprehenſion is, ſo vaſtly, too big for me!—

AT my firſt coming, I was receiv'd, by an old Maiden Aunt, who is Miſtreſs of the Ceremonies to the Lady I was recommended to; ſhe ſurpriz'd me with a Declaration, That ſhe knew of my coming, before ſhe receiv'd my Father's Letter, I ſaid, I [302] thought it had been a Secret: but ſhe aſſur'd me. That I had been hanging, for a whole Week paſt, upon one of the Bars of the Kitchen Chimney.—Not being intirely Enlighten'd, as to the Authority of this dark Prognoſtick, I was preparing to ask a Queſtion, or too; but was ſcar'd out of the Intention, by a melancholy Denunciation, That my Father wou'd not live to ſee the Match come to Perfection; for this Good Lady had (the Night before this Letter was brought to her) ſeen it coming, in Both her Candles, with a Winding-Sheet juſt over-againſt it!

I BOW'D, with a becoming Sorrow; and receiv'd the Prophecy with all that Reverence which was due to ſo extraordinary a Reaſon! This won her to a Warmth in my Intereſt; and ſhe would carry me, without Ceremony, to ſurprize her Neice, in the Garden, where ſhe was viſiting her Orange Trees, in the Green-Houſe:—We were got as forward, on this pleaſing Journey, as to the outſide of the Garden Door, when ſome or other of thoſe buſy Powers who envy Lovers their propos'd Enjoyments, put it into the Old Lady's Feet, to ſtumble over the Threſhold! upon which ſhe turn'd back, in a Fright, and puſh'd me in again, with ſuch Care and Kindneſs, that I can never ſufficiently thank her; ſince, if I had gone on, (after ſuch an ominous Warning) and met my Miſtreſs, in an unlucky Minute, All the [303] World, it ſeems, from that Time forward, could never have made it poſſible for me to come near her, in a LUCKY one.

SHE overtook us, however, as ſoon as we were got back, into the Parlor; and broke in upon me with ſuch a Flaſh of Charms, that, as I ſaluted her, I was ſtruck dumb with Rapture, out, of which I recovered in Time to over-hear her tell the Old Lady, as ſhe was paſſing round her, to a Chair, That it was not I, that had drawn open her Curtains, when the Bride-Cake was put under her Pillow.—I was not, yet, skilful enough to know what Good, or Ill, this boded me: But, before we were fully ſeated, a new Misfortune had befallen us.—My Clarinda's Chair tumbled backward, upon which ſhe declared to me, with the prettieſt Reſignation in the World, That ſhe was not to be LADY-MAYORESS, this Year; but had Patience to ſupport herſelf, under all ſuch Diſappointments.

BEING now got into perfect Compoſure, I began to find, that I was looking ſilly,—So I ſigh'd three Times, and inform'd her, as well as I cou'd, of the Great Reſpect my Father had, for the Family; And Clarinda, on her Part, had open'd her Fan, to its full Extent, and was looking down upon it, in the proper Attitude; and telling the Sticks, with both Fingers, when the Aunt interrupted me with a Groan, (that had been unluckily mention'd by my naming my [304] Father) and confirm'd her former Remark, of the Winding Sheet, by a Death's Head, ſhe had found out, in the Fire!—As Great Misfortunes rarely come ſingle, a malicious Coal, in the Shape of a Coffin, flew, juſt then, to Clarinda's Feet; who turn'd pale, and took it up, betwixt a Finger, and Thumb, and after throwing it behind her, over the left Shoulder, corroborated her Aunt's Evidence, by a Death-Watch, that had kept her waking;—By the howling of a Dog, all Night long;—By a deep Grave that he had ſcratch'd up, at the Foot of a Roſemary Buſh, exactly under her Window!

AND, now, their Eyes being turn'd on Me, as if they expected my Opinion; I gave it them, very gravely, That theſe Things had ſomewhat in 'm!—and it was happy for me, that I ſaid no leſs for an Old Family Servant, with a ſober, mournful, Face, having heard Part of the Diſcourſe, while he was buſy about the Fire, very diſmally confirm'd our Terrors, by Three Proofs, which were ſtronger than all.—Firſt, by the ſqueaking of a Weaſel, that had met him upon the Cellar-Stairs; Secondly, by a Hole, that the Rats had gnaw'd, in the Back of his beſt Livery: And, Thirdly, by a ſtrange Dream, that Mrs. Suſan, the Chamber-maid, had been almoſt frighted out of her Wits by, about Wet Cloaths,—Three Miniſters,—Ripe Fruit,—and Roſes in Bloſſom!—After all which, to put it abſolutely [305] out of Doubt, and convince us, That ſomebody wou'd die ſhortly, he ſhew'd us on one of his Hands, a dirty yellow Spot, which the Thumb, of his other (as he ſhook his Head, and obſerv'd to us) was not broad enough to cover; and this, they all agreed, was no better than a Death-Mould, and muſt mean ſomething.

IN the midſt of theſe Miſeries, I had very little to ſay for my ſelf, having been put out of a premeditated Speech, which I had been inventing during my whole Journey; but as Good-Luck wou'd have it, the Tea came in, to my Relief; and the firſt Diſh, that had the Bleſſing to approach Clarinda's Lips, was ſo richly cover'd with Money-bags, floating in white Circles, all over the Surface, that Gayety took Place of Melancholy.—A little Spider too, was ſo kind as to ſpin down Good-Luck, into her Lap, (which, methought, meant me no Harm) Nay, I became, on a ſudden, ſo happy, that her Elbow declar'd in my Favour; and her Aunt put her to the Bluſh, by obſerving, ſhe muſt change her Bedfellow.

BUT let no Man be too much in Haſte, to conclude, that He is happy.—My Triumph was daſh'd at once, by a Diſcovery That this was Childermas-Day: After which my Miſtreſs ſaid no more, but that Nothing wou'd come to Good, that was begun on that worſt Day of the Week: So her Teeth ach'd moſt prodigiouſly? She was ſorry ſhe cou'd be [306] no Company; and took her Leave of us, till next Morning.

NEXT Morning came;—and the firſt Perſon I met, was Mrs. Suſan; whom I diſcover'd, croſs the Hall, ſpitting ſeriouſly in her Hand, and ſhutting it cloſe, with a great deal of Caution, for Fear of letting ſlip (as ſhe afterwards told me) a Sign, ſhe had felt, in her Palm, that a handſome Gift was very near her.—I was glad of this favourable Opportunity, to confirm the Truth of that Token; and ſhe was ſo obligingly Communicative as to intruſt me with two great Secrets, One, That, I had trod upon her Lady's Toe, laſt Night, in the Hurry of waiting on her to the Stair-foot; whence a Concluſion had been drawn, in my Favour, That I ſhou'd come, e'er long, to her Bedſide.—The other, that Mrs. Suſan having diſcover'd, this very Morning, That one of her Lady's Stockings had been put on, wrongſide outward, was forbid pulling it off again, for Fear of turning ſome Good-Luck, that was meant her.

Mrs. SUSAN, in Return for her kind Intelligence, was very Earneſt to know, whether I had dreamt of no Body?—I told her, I had had the Happineſs to be, all Night, in Her Lady's Company: And I cou'd perceive, that this Information was no more than had been expected; which led me into ſome probable Gueſſes, concerning the Purpoſe of a Caſe-Knife, in a [307] Common-Prayer-Book, which, when I got up, in the Morning, I had found, under my Bolſter.—While, I held this Conference with my Fellow-Servant, we had the Pleaſure of bidding our Miſtreſs Goodmorrow, and of hearing (to my no ſmall Comfort) That her Foot, as ſhe came down Stairs, had given her the Signal, That ſhe was to tread upon ſtrange Ground.

IN fine, Sir, it is impoſſible for you to conceive what an infinite Variety of Notices, Impulſes, and Prognoſticks, outward, and inward, theſe Ladies direct their Conduct by.—In my Three Days ſtay, (which I thought enough for my firſt Viſit) I cou'd learn nothing, with any certainty, of what I chiefly ſought to know; but was edified, above Meaſure, in the Occult Sciences of the Family.—My Miſtreſs call'd after me, when I had taken Horſe to come away, that ſhe was afraid I ſhou'd have a wet Journey; for Puſs was waſhing her Face, and carried her Paw above her Ears; which, ſhe aſſur'd me, was a Sign, that had never been known to miſcarry.—Whether ſhe meant this as a Diſplay of her Art, or of her Inclination to bring me back again, is a Myſtery; which, notwithſtanding the great Advance I have made in gueſſing, I am, yet, unable to diſcloſe, with any poſitive Dependance.

BUT, I wou'd not, (for all that) have you think ſlightly of my Skill in Tokens; [308] ſince I cou'd aſtoniſh you, if I thought fit, with a Profuſion of portentous Myſteries.—I am abſolutely Maſter of that oraculous Secret, which is kneaded up, in the Dumb Cake. I am inſtructed in the aweful Ceremonies, which are ſacred to the fam'd Saint Agnes, to the Purity of whoſe myſterious Worſhip Three Faſting Virgins muſt concur, with ſo ſtrict an Abſtinence, That a KISS, during thoſe reſtrictive Rites, wou'd be as Undoing, as a RAPE, after they are over. I can foretell the moſt agreeable Things in the World, by Six Pea-ſhells over a Door: And anticipate Conſequences, which wou'd puzzle a Southſayer, by turning Three Times round, in my Shirt, and falling into Bed, backward.—I know who will die, an Old Maid, by the Help of a Grey Gooſe Wing, a Clean Hearth, and a Seive full of Aſhes!

BUT I ſhou'd never have done, were I I to let you into the Virtues of Roſes gather'd on Midſummer Night—of Hempſeed, ſown, and mow'n, in the Dark, upon the Graves of a Country Church-Yard—of patching a pretty Face with Apple-Kernels—of Cutting the Nails, faſting—of twiſting a Garter, in Nine Knots, round a Bed-Poſt—of a Certain Hair, that you may find in your Shooe the firſt Time you hear the Cuckoo—and a Thouſand other deep Diſcoveries, which I have made, in this delightful Journey: And, which have put me quite out of Conceit with my former Studies; ſince, after having [309] labour'd to be wiſe, ſo many Years, in a College, I found my ſelf, (notwithſtanding) little better than a Fool, as often as I came into my Miſtreſs's Company.

PRAY, Sir, favour me with your Opinion, how far I may prudently venture my ſelf, with a Lady, ſo much wiſer than I am. Your Advice will have its weight, with

Your humble Servant, AEMILIUS.

The Plain Dealer. No 94.
FRIDAY, February 12. 1725.

—Non quicquid turbida Roma
Elevet, accedas—
PERS.

WE had once a Species of Opera, call'd Dramatic, in which the Dignity of Reaſon was not ſacrific'd, as it is now, to the Diſſoluteneſs of Sound; but the Force of Words and Meaning, was increas'd by Muſick, and Decoration, and impreſs'd upon the Soul, by the Mediation of the Senſes.

[310]I HAVE heard, with a Pleaſure, which, I hope, was not groundleſs, That there is a Deſign on foot, in one of our Theatres, to reſtore theſe manly, as well as delightful, Entertainments, with an Elegance, and Magnificence of Ornament, which we have not yet been accuſtom'd to.—The Succeſs, which Diocleſian has met with (an Opera, of this Kind, but far ſhort of the Perfection, which I am told it is propos'd to raiſe to them to) will ſerve, it is to be hop'd, as an Encouragement, to keep the Gentleman, who is Patentee of that Theatre, firm and vigorous, in his Intention.—His Genius is admirably turn'd to thoſe Embelliſhments of Show and Scenary, which will always have a ſurprizing, and powerful Effect, on the Stage; but moſt where they are aptly, and ſignificantly, introduced:—And, there are not wanting Writers, who can contribute Subject, and Occaſion, whereon to exhauſt, in the moſt rational, as well as agreeable Manner, the ſprightly Copiouſneſs of his Invention. So that I am almoſt led to flatter my ſelf, That our emaſculating preſent Taſte, of the Italian Luxury, and Wantonneſs of Muſick, will give way to a more Paſſionate, and animated Kind of Opera, where not only the Eye and Ear may expect to be charm'd, but the Heart to be touch'd and tranſported.

IT will be receiv'd as the Effect of Spleen, or Affectation, to inſinuate, That the Martial Spirit of our Nation, is effeminated, and gradually [311] relax'd, by the Influence of this ſoftening Syren: And yet Cicero (who was at leaſt as good a Judge as moſt of the Members of our ROYAL ACADEMY for Encouragement of TRIFLING) has not ſcrupled to ſay plainly, (in his Tract de Legibus)—That the Good or Evil, in a State, depends greatly on the MUSICK, that is moſt encourag'd in it: For, if it be too Light, and Wanton, the People are inſenſibly render'd fooliſh, and diſorderly; and, on the contrary, if it be Grave and Maſculine, they become modeſt, by its Influence.

THE Spartan Plainneſs and Auſterity, have been celebrated in every Age: And Hiſtories are full of Inſtances of that Wiſe People's Rigour, againſt Innovation, in Particulars which ſeem'd to threaten them (at what Diſtance ſoever) with the modiſh Luxuries of their Neighbours: But the ſtrongeſt Impreſſion which was ever made upon me in their Favour, was from the Decree they paſſed againſt Timotheus, the Mileſian, for an Improvement he had introduced in Muſick, much like the admir'd Concerto's of our Italian Benefactors. But theſe Grave Men of Foreſight, diſcern'd the Conſequences of ſuch pretended Refinements, and provided againſt it, by this timely Edict, with Lylius Gyraldus has inſerted, as he tranſcrib'd it, from Boetius.

FORASMUCH as Timotheus, the Mileſian, (receiv'd into our City) holding [312] in Contempt the ancient Muſick, and rejecting the Harp with Seven Strings, hath introduced an Harmony of many Voices, corrupting the Ears of our Youth, by a Multiplicity of Strings, and a Muſick hitherto unknown, Dividing the Simple Notes, into a Variety of Feints and Quaverings, We do therefore Ordain, That he ſhall be impeach'd, and that his ſuperfluous Strings ſhall be broken: To the End, that Strangers, from his Example, may be wary of bringing among Spartans, the light, and unmanly, Amuſements, which are practis'd, in leſs modeſt Countries.

WHEN I reflect on the Power of Muſick, as it was practis'd among the Ancients, and conſider the miraculous Inſtances of its Effects, on the Paſſions of ſome Princes, who were moſt inflexible in their Reſolutions: And, when, at the ſame Time, I conſider, That the Muſick, which had this prodigious Influence, was the Reverſe (as I ſhall preſently prove) of That, which now prevails in Europe, and which produces none of thoſe tranſporting Effects, What leſs can I conclude, than that All our boaſted Additions to this heavenly Art, are rather Enlargements than Improvements:—There is a little Piece, of Randolph's; which, of all his Poems, I am moſt pleas'd with; and which gives us, as it were in Miniature, the whole, that can be ſaid, of Muſick!

[313]
Muſick! Thou Queen of Souls;—Ariſe, and ſtring
Thy powerful Lute; and ſome ſad Requiem ſing:
'Till Rocks re murmur an awaken'd Groan,
And liſt'ning Tempeſts catch the mournful Tone!
Then, on a ſudden, with excurſive Hand,
Fly o'er the ſounding Chords, with Light command:
'Till Oaks, and ſtruggling Elms, uprooted, bound;
And a charm'd Foreſt lives, and dances, round!
Then,—in the midſt of the tranſporting Strain,
Strike a ſad Note,—and fix 'em Trees again.

I SAID, above, That the ſtrange Effects, reported of Muſick in former Times, were the Influence of a Practice, very different from the modern; and I cannot more effectually ſtrengthen that Aſſertion, than by obſerving I am confirm'd in it, by the Opinion of Dr. Wallis, communicated, on this Subject, to the Royal Society.

THE Muſick of the Antients was more extenſive than ours: For Poetry and Dancing (or meaſur'd Motion) were then accounted Parts of Muſick.—Now, we know, that Verſe, if harmonious, and paſſionate, ſet to a plain Tune, and ſung by a natural Voice, with ſome ſoft Inſtrumental Muſick, ſuch as not drowns, or obſcures, but heightens the Emphatick Expreſſions; will work ſtrangely upon the Ear, and move all our Paſſions, in Proportion to the Tune and Subject; but eſpecially, if attended with ſuitable Geſture and Action. For, 'tis evident, on the Stage, that proper [314] Acting gives great Life to Words. Now, all this together, (which made up the Ancient Muſick) muſt needs operate ſtrongly on the Fancy and Affections.—For, if the deliberate Reading of a Romance (if it happens to be well penn'd) will produce Mirth, Tears, Pity, Anger, Indignation, according to the reſpective Intents of it, much more wou'd it do ſo, if accompined with all thoſe powerful Aſſiſtants.

WHY may not all This be now done, as well as then?—No Doubt it may, and with equal Effect too, if the Words were but elegantly adapted to the Argument, and diſpos'd in Places, proper for their Emphaſis, pronounc'd with a tuneful Voice, and inlivened by expreſſive Geſture, painting naturally the Paſſion, or Condition, of the Mind; and graphically delineating, as it were, to the Eye (as well as addreſſing to the Ear) the Bounds, Diſtinctions, and peculiar Attributes, of Joy, Grief, Wonder, Fury, Jealouſy, Compaſſion, Fear, Love, Hatred, and the reſt of thoſe Emotions, which the acted Mind is ſubject to.—This wou'd, as certainly now, as then, produce extraordinary Effects; and eſpecially upon a Surprize, where Perſons are not prejudic'd, or pre-engag'd; and, ſo lie open to the meant Impreſſions.

OUR modern Muſick is no more than what the Ancients call'd Harmonick, which was but one Part of Theirs, whoſe Muſick, as I ſaid above, conſiſted of Words, Verſe, Voice, [315] Tune, Inſtrument, and Action.—A very powerful Combination!—And can we expect, from One Piece, the ſame Influence, as from the Whole?—The Deſign of Muſick, among Us, ſeems to aim at exciting no particular Paſſion; but, in general, to pleaſe the Ear; and, by a tuneful Intermixture of different Voices and Parts, with Cadencies and Concords, produce an elegant Sound, which only thoſe Perſons can diſcern, who have diſtinguiſhing Judgment in Muſick; while That much larger Part of the Audience, which conſiſts of Thoſe who have a rude, and uncultivated Ear, remains only amus'd, and confounded, with a great Noiſe, which has Nothing diſtinguiſhable to their Capacity.

'TIS true, indeed, that even this Compound Muſick admits of Characters, very different: Some are brisk, elate and airy; ſome ſedate and grave; others ſoft, reſign'd and languid:—But, ſtill, That kind of Harmony which is moſt powerful to excite particular Paſſions, or Diſpoſitions, in the Mind, is the ſimple, natural, and uncompounded.—How often have I been forced to go abroad when I had no mind to it, or fall aſleep, in the middle of the Day, by a Nurſe's languid Tune, lulling her Babe to reſt, in a Room, within my hearing!—Nay, continual Reading in an even Tone,—the ſoft Murmur of a pebbly Brook,—the falling of Rain upon Trees,—ſhall have an irreſiſtable Power to induce a Repoſe upon the Spirits.—And, on the contrary, an [316] derman who is lame of the Gout, ſhall feel himſelf grow light, and wanton, at the briskneſs of a Jig, on a Kit, or Violin, exciting a Diſpoſition to dance, that is almoſt too hard for his Pain and Gravity.—Nothing is plainer, therefore, than that ſimple Harmony is more operative on the Affections, than an elaborate Compoſition of Full Muſick.

SO that, if it is the Aim of Muſick to pleaſe the Ear, the Compoſitions of Italian Maſters may deſerve to be preferr'd, as forming ſweeter Conſorts than were known to the Ancients; among whom I find no Footſteps of what we call ſeveral Parts or Voices (ſuch as Baſe, Treble, Mean, &c. ſung in Conſort) anſwering each other, to diverſify, and fill up, the Muſick.—But, if we mean, by Muſick, to excite Paſſion, and, move the Heart, to any moral, or ſolid Purpoſe, we muſt apply a more touching Simplicity, and endeavour to act upon Nature, in a more natural, and unaffected Manner. And This, I doubt not, a judicious Compoſer may ſo happily effect, that (allowing for thoſe Hyperboles, with which the Antient Writers ſet off their Muſick) our Modern may be found capable of producing as extraordinary Effects as theirs.—And, This, methinks, is a Mine of Pleaſure, yet unopen'd, and may deſerve to be thought on, with ſome Attention, by Thoſe, whoſe Profit wou'd be the certain Conſequence of introducing a Novelty, ſo powerfully attractive. But I ſhall ſay more, concerning theſe Things, upon ſome future Occaſion.

The Plain Dealer. No 95
MONDAY, February 15. 1725.

[317]
O Imitatores, ſervum pecus!
HOR.
—veteres—miratur, laudatque poetas—
Idem.

To the PLAIN-DEALER.

SIR,

THERE is a diſhonourable Kind of Practice, among the Men, who ſtyle themſelves the Wits, which I can no longer forbear complaining againſt, as an Abuſe that deſerves the Notice, and Correction, of a PLAIN DEALER.—You muſt needs have obſerv'd, that our Poets are, like our Politicians, divided into oppoſite Parties; and draw their Pens, with great Sharpneſs, to the Defiance of each other's Muſes.—Among theſe Warriors, (on both Sides) there are a turbulent Sett of People, not Soldiers, but Engineers, who are known by the Name of Cannon-Turners: They never [318] trouble themſelves to provide Wit, of their own, but are ſure, by ſome Stratagem, to ſteal That, of their Enemies; and apply it to a Purpoſe, the Reverſe of what it was intended for.—The only Difficulty, they are at, is to ſubſtitute the Word TORY, in the Place of the Monoſyllable, WHIG, without Detriment to the Meaſure of the Verſe; or to crowd the unpliable Stubbornneſs of PRESBYTERIAN, into the paſſive Compaſs of JACOBITE: For, when theſe little Difficulties are once happily adjuſted, they have turn'd the Malice of their Adverſary's Meaning directly againſt Themſelves; and by killing, with this good Husbandry, ſave the Expence of Artillery.

BUT it were well, Mr. PLAIN DEALER, if theſe Cannon-Turners wou'd confine the Exerciſe of their invertive Talents to our private, and Domeſtick, Factions;—On the contrary, They are never ſo active, as when we are at War with any of our Neighbours. The French, in particular, have been very great Sufferers by them; and have complained, That theſe Cannon-Turners are the only unfair Fighters, that this Nation ever ſent againſt them.

I SHALL better clear to your Apprehenſion, what Juſtice there may be in their Complaint, by producing one Example, of many, where the Wit, of their own Magazines, has been purloin'd, in a moſt unſoldierly Manner, and diſcharg'd upon them, to their no ſmall Damage.

[119] MONSIEUR Maynard, a French Writer, in the Time of Cardinal Richlieu's Adminiſtration, found himſelf forgotten, or neglected, (having been a Favourite, in the former Reign) tho' this great Cardinal was nobly liberal, in the Encouragement, which he gave to Men of Merit: Monſieur Maynard had a Spirit, too exalted to importune, with perſonal Addreſſes, a Miniſter, whoſe Levees were ſo over-crowded; and to whom he was no otherwiſe known, than by the Fame of his Writings. He, therefore, ſent him, (in the following Verſes) a Memorial, ſo full of Praiſe, without Flattery;—Satyr, without Malice,—and Submiſſion, without Meanneſs; that I have never met with a Mixture of ſo artful a Wit, with ſo delicate a Severity; and it was impoſſible for it not to have produc'd the Effect, which was expected from it, even tho' it had been addreſs'd to a Chief Miniſter, by many Degrees, duller than Cardinal Richlieu.

I.
Sick of a Life, poſſeſs'd in vain,
I ſoon ſhall wait upon the Ghoſt
Of our late Monarch, in whoſe Reign
None, who had Merit, miſs'd a Poſt:
II.
Then will I charm him with your Name,
And all your glorious Wonders done!
The Pow'r of FRANCE!—The SPANIARD's Shame!
The riſing Honours of His SON!
[320]III.
Grateful, the Royal Shade will ſmile,
And dwell, delighted, on your Name:
Sweetly appeas'd, his Griefs beguile,
And drown Old Loſſes, in New Fame.
IV.
But, when he asks me, in what Poſt
I did your wiſh'd Commands obey;
And how I ſhar'd your Favour moſt?
—What wou'd you pleaſe to have me ſay?

BUT now Sir, almoſt a Century after the Death of both Poet, and Patron, comes a famous Engliſh Cannon-Turner, or Abettor of Cannon-Turners, nam'd Bernard Lintot; and, from a Magazine, call'd A Miſcellany, diſcharges all this Wit againſt the Honour of it's Author's Country.—The firſt Part, being general, it will be needleſs to trouble you with it; but the Three laſt Stanza's run in this Manner.

IV.
The Warriour Ghoſts will round me come,
To hear of Fam'd Ramillia's Fight;
While the vex'd Bourbons, thro' the Gloom,
Retire, to inmoſt Realms of Night.
[321]V.
Then, I, my Lord, will tell, how you
With Penſions every Muſe inſpire,
Who Marlbro's Conqueſts did purſue,
And to his Trumpets tun'd the Lyre.
VI.
But, ſhou'd ſome drolling Sprite demand,
Well, Sir!—What Place had you, I pray?
How like a Coxcomb ſhou'd I ſtand,
What wou'd your Lordſhip have me ſay?

I SHALL take up none of your Time, with Obſervations on the Lower Turn, and more ungenteel Spirit, with which the Application of this borrow'd Wit is made; which, in the Original, is ſo nobly graceful! All I wou'd ſay farther, on the Subject, is, That ſince he, who makes bold with another Man's Money, will naturally be ſuppos'd to have had none, of his own, I am in Pain, upon theſe Occaſions, leaſt, when the French Wits obſerve the Freedom we have taken with Their Property, they ſhou'd conclude us All to be Poor, rather than ſome of us Ungenerous.

I am, SIR, Your very humble Servant, FRANCIS FAIRPLAY.
[322]

To the AUTHOR of the PLAIN DEALER.

Mr. PLAIN DEALER,

I HAVE ſeen with a great deal of Pleaſure ſome Excellent Specimens of the antient Hebrew Poetry diſtinguiſh'd in your Paper, with the Applauſe which is ſo juſtly due to them: For every Body, who weighs theſe Things with Judgment, muſt agree with a late Writer, That there is nothing, ſo ſoft, ſo tender, and pathetick; and, at the ſame Time, nothing ſo grand, ſo majeſtick, ſo terrible, and ſo harmonious, as the Poetick Part of the BIBLE.

I SEND you one of their Lyrick Odes (which is the Song of Moſes, on the Overthrow of the Egyptians, in the Red Sea) and I believe it will be readily allow'd, That there is more of the Sublime in this Hebrew Ode, than can be found among the Writings of any Greek, or Roman Poet.

Temples, and Altars, let us raiſe;
Our Father's God is Ours, and claims our Praiſe.
God is our Strength.—Be then that God our Theme;
At length, proud Pharaoh wakes, from his long Dream!
Wakes—and feels a Warriour's Hand,
Who boaſts a Power, more vaſt than His; and lords it o'er His Land!
In vain the following Foes our God defy'd,
Their rapid Wheels in vain tore up the Strand:
In vain they mock'd the waving Wand.
Not all their Strength cou'd the fierce Sea withſtand,
[323]The watry World flow'd fearleſs o'er their Pride:
The drowning Army beat th' involving Tide:
On Sea-waſh'd Chariots, half ſuſtain'd, the trembling Captains ride!
Th' uplifted Horſes paw their Liquid Way!
And, round 'em, o'er the foaming Flood, the floating Legions lay.
There, while they vainly felt for Sands below,
For Sands, where watry Mountains flow;
Sinking, like Rocks, they choak the Deep with Prey;
High-covering, roſe the briny Surge, and ſwept their Rage away!
Thy glorious Hand, O God! was forceful, here,
Thy Power protects us, and forbids our Fear:
Threat'ning aloud, the thund'ring Legions roſe,
And, at thy Choſen, ſhook th' extended Spear;
Behind, amaz'd, we ſaw th' o'ertaking Foes!
And felt our Hearts anticipate their Blows,
But, while the Blaſt of cold Deſpair blew keen,
Safety, from Heaven, ſhot down between:
Dreadful in Wrath, thy lifted Arm but ſhone,
And all th' un-number'd Thouſands melt away;
Conſum'd like Stubble, when broad Fires roll on,
And ſweep the blazing Fields, with crackly ſway.
Th' Almighty's Voice but ſpoke a loud Command,
And, ſtrait, th' unlinking Surges, backward, riſe!
Reluctant Waves in quivering Mountains ſtand,
And hang their billowy Horrors in the Skies!
With murmuring Climb, th' obedient Deep yawns wide,
And, ſhadowing, lowers aloft, from either Side!
Down, thro' the horrid Road's dark Concave, led,
Safe, o'er th' emerging Vale, bold Iſrael trod:
[324]Refreſhful Pools, in their cool paſſage ſpread,
Sprinkled their Feet, rock-feſter'd and unſhod:
And Iſrael, reſcued, ſmil'd again, and felt her Guardian God.
See, from the Mountains, cry'd th' unwary Foe,
Twixt the dividing Waves the Cowards go!
Their Sorcerer cleaves the Sea, with magick Skill,
Follow, for Vengeance; and o'ertake, and kill,
—The raging Hoſt obey the mad Command:
The ſhouting ſwarms, deſcending, hide the Strand!
Wheel within Wheel, the Chariots, lock'd, gore wide the incumber'd Sand,
Mix'd Horſe and Foot, in glittering Squares deſcend;
And, in broad Pomp, their waving War extend.
The Ooſe, new-peopled groans beneath their Weight:
And the Deep ſickens at th' unuſual State!
But hark!—The rolling Thunder gives Command!
Diſperſe, ye Waves, your watry Ranks disband.
Down, the hoarſe-ſounding Sea, let looſe, pours dark, from either Hand
Hills, over Hills, devour the vaniſh'd Sand!
Together, the encountring Uproar flys:
And battling Waves in mixing Mountains riſe.
Helpleſs,—Engulph'd, th' Egyptian Squadrons roll;
With vain Reſiſtance wou'd the Deep controll:
Mix'd, in the covering Spray, a while they ſtrive,
Then like ſunk Plummets, to the Bottom dive!
Of all the Gods, what God, like ours is found?
So Juſt! and for ſuch dreadful Power renown'd!

The Plain Dealer. No 96.
FRIDAY, February 19. 1725.

[325]
—Cum vini vis penetravit
Conſequitur Gravitas Membrorum, praepediuntur
Crura vacillanti, tardeſcit lingua, madet mens,
Nant Oculi, clamor, ſingultus, jurgia gliſcunt.
LUCRET.

THE following Letter, from the ſame learned and ingenious Hand, to which I am indebted for that which was publiſh'd in a former Paper (No. 60) concerning the Difference obſervable in Point of Fortune, between the Profeſſors of Poetry, and of Painting, contains ſo uſeful a Leſſon, againſt a Folly, that is become too common among us, That no Subject cou'd be more ſeaſonable, or ſtand more in need of a PLAIN DEALER. The Letter, in its Original, was directed to a particular Friend of the Writer's: But Produc'd an Effect which renders it deſerving, of a more Extenſive and Publick Notice.

[326]
SIR,

I SHAL now according to my Promiſe, which I made you on the Seventh of this Inſtant, and which I hope came to your Hands, give you ſome Account of the ſtrange Ravage which is made by Exceſſive Drinking, in the Bodies and Minds, and Affairs of thoſe who are addicted to that Barbarous Vice.

NATURE has contriv'd it ſo, That all her Children, as long as they retain their Reaſon, are fond of Life, and at the ſame Time, they all believe that Life it ſelf of which they are ſo fond, is a grievous Burthen, without the Benefit of Health; but tho' all Men are ſatisfied of the unſpeakable Value of Health, yet few are frugal Managers of it: But the Drinking Part of Mankind are as Prodigal of it, as the Squanderer is of Money: For no Vice whatever does ſo much Harm to the Body, or lays the Foundation of ſo many Diſeaſes, as Exceſſive Drinking, Gout, Stone, Cholick, Fevers, Conſumptions, Vapours, Aſthma's, with a long et caetera.

A CERTAIN Friend of Ours, whom we love very well, has drunk himſelf into no leſs than Three of them, viz. Gout, Aſthma, and Vapours; and yet he goes on in his old Courſe, as if th [...] Juice of the Grape, like that of the Scor [...]on, could expell the Venom which befo [...]e it infus'd; but here I [327] think my ſelf oblig'd to declare, that I mean, by exceſſive Drinking, a conſtant, daily, or frequent Drinking, to a greater Quantity than is ſufficient to cheriſh Nature.

ALL the reſt of the Vices together, are not ſo often puniſh'd by ſudden Death as exceſſive Drinking alone is, which ſometimes happens by the Malignity of the Vice it ſelf, oppreſſing and ſtifling Nature, and ſometimes by the fatal Accidents which attend upon it as falſe Quarrels, &c.

OUR Friend whom I mention'd above, has no leſs than Twice, to my Knowledge, very narrowly eſcap'd ſudden Death, which had like to have happen'd both Times, by Exceſſive Drinking, once formerly in Lincolns-Inn-Fields, and another Time lately at S— Now, as a Death that gives no Time for Repentance, ought to be look'd upon as the greateſt of all Puniſhments, Exceſſive Drinking, ought to be regarded as the greateſt of all Vices, becauſe we ought to believe, That Divine Juſtice has proportion'd Puniſhments to the Crimes for which they are inflicted; and becauſe there is no Vice, by which he who uſes it, ſo immediately Defaces or ſo totally Deſtroys, in himſelf, the Image of God, which is Reaſon, I hope that upon reading this, you will have the Goodneſs to admoniſh our Friend, who has ſo narrowly eſcap'd twice, to beware of a third Time.

[328] AS the State of the Mind depends upon that of the Body, and the Motions of that Particle of Heavenly Fire, upon the Motions of the animal Spirits, which in time of Health, move Vigorouſly, and Regularly; and Weakly, and Irregularly, in time of Sickneſs; it muſt neceſſarily be, that That Vice which is the Occaſion of moſt Diſeaſes in the Body, muſt be likewiſe the Cauſe of moſt Diſorders in the Mind. And there is no Vice that is ſo great an Enemy to the Underſtanding as exceſſive Drinking, or that ſo often entirely Overturns it. Indeed, Drinking to Exceſs while the Fit continues, ſometimes ſtrengthens the Imagination; but, by the ſame Degrees by which it raiſes the Imagination, it Depreſſes the Judgment, the former of which is common to us with Beaſts, and the latter with God and Angels. But then the Day after Drinking, the very Imagination languiſhes with the Judgment. And Drinking to Exceſs never fails, in time, to Quench the Imagination, to impair the Memory, and to drown the Judgment.

I DESIRE that you would admoniſh one of our Friend's Capacity to take Notice, That Bacchus is often a great Leveller, that he levels the Underſtandings of Wiſe Men and Fools, of the Blockhead, and the Man of Senſe; and that therefore, as 'tis the Intereſt of Fools to carry on this Vice, 'tis the Intereſt of Men of Senſe to avoid it.

I DESIRE that you would likewiſe put Him in mind that the ſame Drunken Deity [329] is often worſe than a Leveller; that he is often a Subverter of the Order of Things, and pulls down the Rich, and exalts the Poor; that is, he gives Underſtanding to Fools, and makes Men of Senſe Madmen. For Fools having generally ſtronger Nerves and leſs volatile Spirits, than Men of great Underſtandings, or of Beautiful Imaginations, the ſame Quantity of Spiritous Liquor that will ſet Fire to the Phlegm of Fools and by that Means rouſe their Capacities, will make Men of Senſe either ſtupid or frantick.

AS there is no Vice, which more impairs the Underſtanding and weakens the Reaſon, there is none which more inflames the Paſſions, and diſorders the Will. Several other Vices are Solitary, and each of them ſhuns the Company of the reſt; but exceſſive Drinking is attended with the very worſt of them, that is, with thoſe which have the directeſt Tendency to the Miſery and Deſtruction of Men; as Gaming, Quarrels, Riots, Murders, &c.

MOST other Vices are compatible with ſeveral Virtues, but Drunkenneſs runs Counter to all the Duties of Life: A great Drinker, is, for the moſt part, neither a good Husband, nor a good Father, nor a good Son, nor a good Brother, nor a good Friend.

BUT 'tis not Virtue only that Deteſts Drunkenneſs; 'tis often abhorr'd even by Vice it ſelf, as by Avarice, Hypocriſie, Ambition, [330] Bigottry and Luſt. As this unnatural Sin of Drinking is attended with ſeveral that bring Miſery and Deſtruction on thoſe who uſe them, as has been ſaid above; 'tis often ſhunn'd by that Human, Natural Vice, which tends to the Propagation of Mankind, as much as it is by Vertue. For there is nothing ſo Inconſiſtent or Incompatible with exceſſive Drinking, as the Cleanneſs, Elegance, and Delicacy, of a Courtly Gallantry.

AS the Right Management of Human Affairs, requires Health of Body, and Vigour, and Serenity of Mind, we ought not to wonder, if a Vice that breaks the Reſt in him, impairs the Underſtanding, deſtroys the Memory, inflames the Paſſions, and debauches the Will, entirely unqualifies a Man for doing what the World calls Buſineſs. And therefore hard Drinking has ruin'd more Engliſh Families, than all the reſt of our Vices, put together; not by the immediate Expence which attends upon the Vice, but by altering the very Natures of the Heads of Families who uſe it, and making them unfit for the Management of their Affairs, of which they were very capable before: For other Vices, indeed make Men worſe, but a Habitude of exceſſive Drinking often alters Men, to that Degree, That they become the very Reverſe of what they were before, and differ more from their former Selves, than from their preſent Companions. Such a Habit, when it has been long contracted, [331] has often made the Ambitious indolent, the Prudent inconſiderate, the Active idle, and the Induſtrious ſlothful and negligent: So that their Affairs are ruin'd for Want of Application, or, by being intruſted in the Hands of thoſe, who turn them wholly to their own Advantage, and to the Ruin of thoſe who employ them.

AS Perſonal Vices are the Cauſe of private Calamities, ſo National Vices are the Grounds of National Sufferings. And as no Vice does more Harm to particular Conſtitutions, than frequent Drinking to Exceſs, or lays the Foundation of more Diſeaſes, and of more ill Humours, in them; there is none of our publick Vices, which does more Harm to our National Conſtitution, or occaſions more Corruption in it than this pernicious Habitude. And as this Cuſtom in particular Perſons cauſes them to neglect their private Affairs, and either to leave them wholly undone, or to leave them to be done by thoſe, who will make their proper Advantage of them, tho' to the Ruin of thoſe who entruſted them, as has been ſaid above; the ſame Thing is not unlike to happen to this Drinking Nation.

TO be ſatisfy'd of this, if we may judge of the Future by the Paſt, we need only caſt an Eye back upon our Elections, in which Thouſands of Engliſh-men (as far as in them lay) have ſold their own Liberties, and the Liberty of their Country, for Liquors. Eſau [332] ſold his Birth-Right for a Meſs of Pottage; but then He ſold only his own Birth-Right, and he ſold it to his Brother; and he ſold it to ſupport Nature, in the Extremity of Hunger. But Thouſands of our Electors, have ſold, (as far as in them lay) not only their own Birth-Rights, their own Liberties, but the Liberties and Birth-Rights of their Brethren, for nauſeous Loads to oppreſs, and deſtroy Nature. I know, indeed, very well, that upon thoſe Occaſions, in order to corrupt People, there is a little of the Solid made Uſe of ſometimes, as well as a great deal of the Liquid. But I have a better Opinion of ſome of my Countrymen, than to believe, That they would ſell their Wives, their Children, and all their Poſterity, for a Song, if, at the Time when They did it, They were cool enough to conſider, What it is they are about.

THUS, my dear Friend, have I endeavour'd to ſhew the Miſchief, which exceſſive Drinking does to particular Perſons, in their Bodies, Minds, and Affairs. I ſhould ſay ſomething of the unreaſonable Apologies which the Diſciples of BACCHUS make, for themſelves: But, having run into more Length than I firſt intended, I ſhall defer what I had to ſay farther, 'till I have heard how you reliſh what I have already writ.

I am, &c.

The Plain Dealer. No 97.
MONDAY, February 22. 1725.

[333]
—Modó Vir, modó Foemina.
VIRG.
SIR,

AS I have taken Notice, in the Courſe of your Plain Dealing, That you are perfectly appriz'd of the General Diſpoſition among Thoſe, whom we call People of Quality, to patronize, and diſtinguiſh, Merit, I flatter my ſelf that you will contribute what Aſſiſtance may be in your Power, to the Encouragement of a Work, I am at preſent engag'd in; and which the World may expect to ſee publiſh'd, very ſpeedily.—I intend, in ſhort, To compile a HISTORY of DEDICATIONS; containing a particular Account of all Addreſſes, of That Kind, which have been made to the Noble Patrons of the preſent Age: Whether Dukes, Marqueſſes, Earls, Viſcounts, Simple [334] Barons, or under what Name or Title, ſoever known, and diſtinguiſh'd: Together with certain Edifying Remarks, upon their graceful Manner of Receiving, and judicious Liberality in Rewarding, ſuch Addreſſers! From which a reaſonable Judgment may be form'd, concerning the unuſal Encouragement, Polite Learning is like to meet with, throughout the Courſe of the preſent Generation.

GREAT Numbers have already ſent me in Memoirs of their own particular Experience: And I doubt not in the leaſt, but that I ſhall be able to compoſe a Volume, which will not only do Juſtice to the very extraordinary Times we live in, but aſtoniſh, and inflame Poſterity.—If you, Mr. PLAIN DEALER, or any of your Friends have wherewithall to oblige the World, on ſo illuſtrious an Occaſion, be communicative, for the Honour of your Country, and confirm me, ſtill more,

Your Friend, And conſtant Reader, HUMPRHY PICKTHANK.

I MUST be plain, with my induſtrious Correſpondent, Mr. Pickthank, and let him know, without Ceremony, or Circumlocution, [335] That I have an irreconcileabe Quarrel to the Subject of his Hiſtory: And ſhall contribute no Memoirs, to its Ornament.—If he is deſirous to know my Reaſon, I ſhall give it him in the Words of a merry Friend of mine, who took Occaſion, ſome few Years ſince, to dedicate, to a Great Man, his Thoughts concerning Dedications.

YOUR Dedicators, ſays this Wag, are a ſort of intellectual Taylors, that cut out Cloaths for a Great Man's Mind, without ever taking Meaſure of it.—They have but Two Rules, and Thoſe they never depart from: Firſt, The Dreſs muſt be Gaudy: And, Secondly, It muſt never Fit. But they muſt make it of a vaſt Dimenſion, and cover it all over with Tinſel.

METHINKS I ſhou'd congratulate the Men of Quality, on this Advantage, which it muſt, of Neceſſity be, to them, to have their Characters drawn only by ſuch as do not, or dare not, know them: And will, conſequently, be ſure not to put their Graces, their Lordſhips, and their Ladyſhips, out of Countenance. A convenient Piece of Good Breeding! For which I hope, They are thankful.

AS for my ſelf, when I ſee a long Drift of Excellencies and Talents, cramm'd down the Throat of an Innocent Nobleman, who has done nothing to deſerve ſuch Ill Uſage, I am [336] not at all ſurpriz'd at it, Becauſe I am aſſur'd it is not meant to the Diſadvantage of the Perſon of Honour it is addreſs'd to, but is a mere Declaration of the Author's Wants, and a heavy Complaint, againſt Hunger, and Nakedneſs.

THE only Dedications, therefore, which I am for encouraging, are Thoſe, which may inſtruct the Receiver, that he is to conſider them as Bills of Exchange, drawn by the Witty upon the Great, and payable at Sight.—And, leaſt the Offering ſhou'd be miſunderſtood, or not recompens'd, as it ought to be, through the deplorable Ignorance of ſome People, whoſe high Quality has plac'd them above the Reach of Knowledge, and the Impulſes of Humanity, I have, for the Benefit of my worthy Companions, in the Labours of the Standiſh, drawn up a Form, which I would have annex'd to all future Dedications, where the Fortune is, in any conſiderable Degree, more Elevated, than the Underſtanding.

[337]
The Right Honourable Dives, Earl of Widefield Debtor, To Paul Poorwit, for the following Goods, Sold and Deliver'd.
 l.s.d.
Imprimis, FOR a large Stock of Learning very much wanted.021000
Item—For a Bail of powerful Eloquence, admir'd by all the World, but never yet us'd050000
Item—For as much Honour and Juſtice as a Great Man has Occaſion for000001
Item—For a Hogſhead of Courage not at all the worſe for uſing100000
Item—For a Pound of Wit, and Humour010000
Item—For a long Line of Lineage, Dog Cheap, and not a Farthing a Yard, by Meaſure050000
Item—For praiſing your Lord's Anceſtors, unknown11000
Item—For admiring your Lady's Beauty, unſeen001000
Item—For a Graceful Perſon, entirely of my own making021000
Item—For a Nail of a Yard of Generoſity000205
Sum Total280206
[338]
My LORD,

I HAVE ſent you the Goods above-mentioned; being the Beſt, my Warehouſe affords, and at the very loweſt Prices.—I hope they will pleaſe you. You will find, in the large, ſeveral Parcels, which I have not Item'd: Which will raiſe the whole Value to, at leaſt, even Thirty Pounds; and I have drawn a Bill upon your Lordſhip, accordingly, which I hope you will pay at Sight.—I might have found Chapmen for theſe Goods, among others of the Quality, as unprovided as your Lordſhip: But out of pure Reſpect, I was reſolv'd, you ſhou'd have the Refuſal.

I am, My LORD, Your Lordſhip's moſt oblig'd, Moſt obedient, moſt devoted, Moſt, &c. PAUL POORWIT.

IN this plain Manner, ſays my ingenious Friend, and old Acquaintance, wou'd I have Authors treat their Patrons. The ſaid Thirty Pounds may, probably, be the Poet's whole Stock; and Wits dealing the leaſt upon Credit, either in buying, or ſelling, of any Trading People in the World, have the more Occaſion for Ready Money.

[339]A LITTLE Reflection on the foregoing Particulars, will convince the laborious Mr. Pickthank, that nothing is more unreaſonable than his Expectation of my Aſſiſtance, towards ſetting forth a Hiſtory of ſuch Dedications, as I can, by no means, approve the Examples of: But am deſirous to ſee ſuppreſs'd in Favour of a Juſter Method, which I have therefore recommended.

To the Gentleman that writes the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

I AM a young Woman, juſt turn'd of Fourteen; and my Father is a Doctor of Phyſick. But he loves Poetry mightily: And we have a great many Wits come often to dine with us. For my Part, I have no great Skill, yet, what Difference there may be between one ſort of Men and another: But I liſten, when any of theſe Wits are talking with my Father, becauſe he ſays, They can teach me Things, That I ſhall be the wiſer for, as long as I live.

ONE of the prettieſt of them all, was reading to us, yeſterday, ſome ingenious Copies of Verſes, out of a Book of Poems, that is juſt come out; and I think he told us, it was writ by a Gentleman whoſe Name is Baker.—They were particularly delighted with one little Poem, among the Reſt, at which They all laugh'd, as if they were mad: And ſaid, it was one of the [340] Cleaneſt Turns They had met with: And my Father cou'd not reſt, till he had taken a Copy of it.

I OBSERV'D, that my Mother, and my Eldeſt Siſter, bluſh'd, while they were laughing at it: But I (tho' I ſtole it out of my Father's Pocket, the ſame Night, and have read it, over and over, till I have got it by Heart) can make nothing of it, and am vex'd, becauſe I want Underſtanding to find out the Meaning of ſomething that my Siſter (who is but three Years older) pretended to look learnedly at, as if ſhe knew, forſooth! as much of the Matter as Anybody.

I AM aſham'd to ask Queſtions about it at home, for Fear of being found out to be Sillier than I ſhou'd be at my Years.—And, therefore, I bethought my ſelf to beg the Favour of you, to ſhew where the Cleanneſs of That Turn lies, that my Father, and his Wits, were ſo highly diverted with.—I know a Place where they take in your Paper, and where I ſhall ſee your Anſwer, without any Body's knowing that it was I, who writ to you about it.—I never writ to a Man before, but my Father, and therefore pray don't wonder at any Ignorance, or Miſtake, in

Good SIR,
Your Admirer, and humble Servant, NOVINDA.
[341]
The FEATHER.
IN his Forimel's Arms, as if quite out of B [...]eath,
I'll kiſs thee, my Charmer! I'll kiſs thee, to Death!
Cry'd Thirſis, in Raptures—But, ſoon on her Breaſt,
He ſunk down his Head, and compos'd him to Reſt!
Not long had they lain, thus unactive together,
E're the Wanton pluck'd out, from the Bolſter, a Feather:
And, graſping him hard, 'till he open'd his Eyes,
In a Tone of Deriſion, the witty One cries;—
To prevent being kill'd, in the Manner you ſaid.
I reſolve, with THIS FEATHER to chop off your Head.

P.S. There may be Wit in this, for any Thing I know; but, if a Man was for Cutting my Head off, and had nothing in his Hand but a Feather, I ſhou'd think my ſelf a Great Fool, to be afraid, of what he cou'd do to me.

MADAM,

WHEN a young Lady, of ſo lively, and induſtrious, a Curioſity, becomes deſirous to learn Meanings, ſhe makes much ſwifter Advances, than you can eaſily imagine.—Not to rob you, therefore, of the Honour of a Diſcovery, you cannot fail to make ſhortly by Virtue of your own natural Genius, Pleaſe only to wait, till the Week after your next Birth-Day, and if by That Time, you ſhall not be as knowing in this Point, as the young Lady your Eldeſt Siſter, Command all Inſtruction, in the Power of,

Your moſt obedient Servant, The PLAIN-DEALER.

The Plain Dealer. No 98.
FRIDAY, February 26. 1725.

[342]
—Quid non Mortalia Pectora cogis,
Auri ſacra Fames!—
VIRG.

THE Force of Avarice is never ſo conſpicuous, and ſo much to be wonder'd at, as when it taints the Minds of Perſons eminent in Quality and Circumſtance, ſecured, as one would think, againſt all mean Temptations, by the large Revenues of a State Employment. It is no ſuch great Matter of Surprize, when we ſee this Tincture of Covetouſneſs prevailing in a Mechanick, one whoſe Birth and Education are upon a Level; one, who has undergone a State of Servitude, who has learn'd to be ſcraping and penurious by Habit and Example; and who, by a Converſation with Dirt and ſervile Gain, makes the amaſſing a Fortune to be the chief End of Life. But we expect from a Generous Birth, and a Liberal Education, Sentiments ſuitable to their Dignity.

[343]WE ſee, 'tis true, this dirty Paſſion often blotting the Eſcutcheons of the Nobleſt Families: And we find at the ſame time our Reſpect for their Quality turn'd into a Contempt for their Perſons. But how much more deſpicable does this Vice appear, when we find it lodg'd in the Breaſt of Him, whoſe ſuppos'd Merit, and the Favour of his Prince, have raiſed him to preſide in Juſtice? We attach Idea's of Veneration to their Characters, who are Oracles of Law. We look upon them as the Storehouſes of Wiſdom, and the Fountains of Integrity: And were they, as it is ſaid of the old Perſian Emperors, to appear in Publick but once in Seven Years, the Vulgar, no doubt, would carry up their Reſpect to the Pitch of Adoration.

BUT our Deference for theſe Great Men is taken off, when we ſee Frailties breaking thro' their Grandeur: When they proſtitute the Sanctity of Honour and Conſcience, to Wealth, and unworthy Extorſion. My Lord COKE, I remember, ſomewhere ſpeaking of Extortion in a Judge, ſays, It is there worſe than Robbery: For Robbery is apparent, and hath the Face of a Crime; but Extortion puts on the Viſor of Vertue, for Expedition of Juſtice.

IT is a very fine Aphoriſm, and worthy the Conſideration of all Ages and Countries, That a Judge ought to be ſeaſon'd with two Sorts of Salt; the Salt of Wiſdom, leſt he ſhould appear a Fool, and the Salt of Conſcience, [344] leſt he ſhould appear a Devil. I cannot help recollecting, upon this Occaſion, a Paſſage of AELIAN, who ſpeaking of the Egyptians, tells us, ‘'That they boaſted to have receiv'd their Syſtem of Laws from Mercury: And that their Judges, whenever they ſate upon the Deciſion of Cauſes, wore, hanging upon their Breaſts, by a Chain of Gold, a Saphire Image, which was call'd Truth: But, ſays the Author, I ſhould think it better, that, inſtead of the material Image dangling at their Boſoms, they had the Eſſence of it ſtampt on their Souls.

I WAS led into this Trace of thinking, by Peruſal of thoſe Pamphlets which have lately been publiſh'd, concerning the famous Lord BACON; and of another I met with in the Window of a Member of Parliament, which is call'd, The CASE of ORPHANS, conſider'd from Antiquity.

THE Title Page tells us, That a Part of of its Subject is, On the Court of Chancery, having the Diſpoſition of Orphans Money. As I obſerv'd ſome Paſſages in it, concerning the unreaſonable Truſt which has been put in the Maſters of Chancery, I ſhall take the Liberty of tranſcribing a few, and making them a Part of this Day's Entertainment.

I MUST freely confeſs, (ſays this Author) it is always my Opinion, That a Lord CHANCELLOR was a moſt proper Truſtee, and Guardian, of the Intereſts of Orphans, and [345] Widows. I have not altogether retracted this Opinion, but I am ſo diffident of my own weak Judgment, that ſtrong Clamour, and ſtrong Arguments, perſwade me often not to be too poſitive or tenacious of my Sentiments. I am not ſo perfectly, methinks, reconcil'd to a CHANCELLOR, and his Maſters, having too intimate an Underſtanding with Each Other: And I begin to ſuſpect it a Degree of Harmony, in no wiſe eſſential to the Promotion of Equity.

IT has been, as I am told, but by a very modern Order, that the Suiters Monies have been lodg'd in the Hands of the Maſters; and it may be to be wiſh'd that too many have not Cauſe to be ſorry an Order of that Kind ever took Place.

THO' there be a loud Cry of Deficiency in the Suiters Money ſo lodg'd, I am not taking upon me to impeach the Characters of thoſe Gentlemen, but only to obſerve, That that Order ſeems to have been as abſurd and unreaſonable, as it has prov'd unhappy in its Conſequences. The Poſſeſon of large Sums of Money, and the diſcretionary Power of approving what Securities they ſhall be plac'd out on, is a Truſt of ſuch a Kind as might debauch the Principles of Minds, not the moſt ſtrongly intrench'd in Honeſty, againſt the Aſſaults of Avarice and Advantage. It gives a Liberty, which I hope was never taken, of [346] making Intereſt of that Money in which they have no Property, and for which they are, barely Truſtees; and at the ſame Time of not paying One Shilling of its Produce to the right Owners, under Colour that they have not had any proper Security propos'd, upon which they could certify it ſafe and fitting to place it out.

WERE there not the unhappy Deficiencies, which are at this Time talk'd of, I think ſeveral Caſes of Conſcience might ariſe upon the Poſſiblity of the Maſters Conduct, with Regard to this Truſt. Suppoſe only, for Example, during the late unaccountable Fluctuation of Stocks, when the South-Sea Frenzy was at the Height, and Money yielded the Intereſt of a whole Year for the Loan of a few Hours, any immenſe Fortunes had been made by the clandeſtine Application of thoſe very Monies, for which no Securities could be found; or thoſe very Monies had been loſt in an unwarrantable Venture for private Profit: What Reparation ſhould have been made to the Suiters, or Orphans, whoſe Eſtates, in either Caſe, were ſo happily, or unhappily, employ'd? Would they have reap'd the Benefit of the firſt Stock-jobbing; or was there the leaſt Reaſon that they ſhould ſit down with the Loſs of the Latter? I make this but a Caſe of Suppoſition; and as it is ſcarce probable that the ſame Frenzy ſhould ever again poſſeſs us, yet ſhould it, the [347] Wiſdom of our PARLIAMENT is providing, That the Monies of Orphans and other Suiters, engag'd in Chancery, ſhall not be ſubject to ſuch Hazards.

BUT ſo much for Quotation. As I have above-mention'd the Name of the Lord Chancellor BACON, who was accus'd by the Nation of Bribery and Extortion, I ſhall add a a few Words here with Regard to his Conduct under that Accuſation. It has been reckon'd very ſingular in his Caſe, and He has been look'd upon as a Man of many Fears, that he ſhould deſert his Defence, and, by a Submiſſion and Confeſſion of his Guilt, throw himſelf on the Favour of the Parliament. But my Lord BACON, who, as it has been obſerv'd, knew that all Wounds ake with laying open, and that Circumſtances are ſufficient to blaſt a Reputation, was reſolv'd to avoid the Hazard of a publick Examination. It may very often be wiſer to carry Defects private, than to ſtand too peremptorily on a Juſtification; wherefore I look upon the Saying to be of great Weight, That no Man has ſo many Faults, as he that takes upon him to have none at all.

THIS puts me in Mind of a FABLE, that I read in my younger Years, and which I ſhall relate here, becauſe I am reſolv'd not to end with too much Gravity.

[348] THERE was a Knot of good Companions that enter'd into a Club, under certain Rules and Orders for the Government of the Society. One Article among the reſt, was, ‘"That whoever ſhould enroll himſelf a Member of that Brotherhood, with any corporal Maim, or Blemiſh about him, ſhould forfeit a Crown to the Board; and for ſo many Defects, ſo many Crowns."’ It fell out, that one Man in the Company was obſerv'd to go Limping, and they call'd upon him for his Forfeit. The Man put himſelf upon the Teſt, and was found, in the Search, to have not only one Leg longer than the other, but a Scurff all over his Body. Upon this Diſcovery they demanded another Crown, and then another, for a Glaſs-Eye he had. They preſs'd him in the End ſo hard for the Money, that it came to Stripping, and upon that Struggle, they found he had a Rupture: So that the further he puſh'd his Defence, his Conteſt become more Chargeable.

The Plain Dealer. No 99.
MONDAY, March 1. 1725.

[349]
Animum curis nunc huc, nunc dividit illuc.—
VIRG.

To the Author of the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

YOU were pleas'd, in a late Paper, to thank Heaven, that All our Lords are not Lords of Trade: For my Part, I wiſh, heartily, that Eight, or Nine Gentlemen of my Acquaintance, were All Lords! They fall, ſo naturally, into Airs of Grandeur, and are already ſo adroit in the Exerciſe of Authority, that They would ſtrangely become the Dignity I wiſh 'em poſſeſs'd of, and I ſhall never be truly Eaſy, till I ſee 'em preferr'd, to Offices of much leſs Trouble than their Preſent, and more proportion'd to their Merit, and Abilities.

YOU muſt know, Sir, that I am Agent, for one of our American Colonies, and owe [350] to the Duties of that Station the Opportunity of being perfectly well acquainted with the Patience, the Experience, and indefatigable Application, of moſt of Thoſe Faſt Friends to the Plantation Intereſt, to the Eaſe, the Wellfare, add (above all) to the Good Government of their Dear Brethren in the Weſtern World!—I have receiv'd a thouſand Proofs of the ſurprizing Tenderneſs, and Moderation, with which They act, in Matters, which carry any Severity, in their Appearance: And, on the other Hand, of the kind Vigour, and Reſoluti- with which They forward every Motion, that but tends to the Encouragement, or Satisfaction, of their Countrymen in thoſe remote, but important, Settlements.—I am not able, therefore, to expreſs the Gratitude, I feel, for Benefits, too long, and too many, to enumerate.—But becauſe we ſee Things cleareſt, when oppos'd againſt their Contraries, Indulge me but ſo far, as to tell the World a Story for me, which will teach the Enemies of theſe Great Promoters of the Publick Good, to value them, as they ought, and ſee what Differences there is, between Them, and other People.

ONE of the Turkiſh Sultans, whoſe Name I have forgot, taking into his Conſideration the Great Fertility of Egypt, was reſolv'd to give Encouragement to the Trade, and Plantations of That Country; [351] To this End he ſent over to the Baſhaw of Grand Cairo a SETT of SAGES, with great Salaries, to whom References were to be made upon all Tranſactions, of that Nature: And by whoſe Reports He was to guide himſelf, in Mercantile and Commercial Caſes.

IT happen'd, ſoon after their Arrival, that a Petition was preſented to the Baſhaw, by the Planters of Cotton, whoſe whole Year's Expectation had been deſtroy'd by an unuſual Inundation of the Nile: In Commiſeration of which deplorable Accident, They humbly pray'd a Remiſſion of the Tax upon Cotton, for That one Year only.—The Baſhaw (according to His Orders) referr'd This Petition to the Sages, who were, with all convenient Speed, to examine its Contents, and report their Opinion, what might fitly be done, upon the Occaſion.

THE Sages, juſtly mindful that the liberal Salaries, which were annex'd to their Office, intitled the People, for whoſe Encouragement they were appointed, to the moſt affectionate Proofs of their Favour, and Good Nature, were not wanting to lay hold on this inviting Opportunity, to convince the Petitioners how Greatly the Eſtabliſhment of ſo able a Board of Counſellors was like to conduce to the Intereſt, not only of the Cotton-Planters, but of all the Plantations, in general.—They, therefore, moſt humbly certified, to the Baſhaw, [352] That the Loſs of the Cotton appear'd indeed to have been very conſiderable: But ſeem'd rather an Effect of the Planter's own Negligence, than of the River's Inundation, ſince they cou'd not but know, there were many Seeds, and Grains, not liable in their Growth, to receive Damage by Inundations: And, in particular, Wool they ſaid was Water-proof.—They were therefore humbly of Opinion, That it wou'd be for the Good of the Plantation-Intereſt, that no Regard ſhou'd be ſhown to the Prayer of the Petitioners, ſince they ought, inſtead of Cotton to have SOWN WOOLL, and thereby ſecur'd themſelves againſt the Misfortune, which had ruin'd them.

I KNOW, Mr. PLAIN DEALER, That You are a Man of Buſineſs, and will, therefore, take up no more of your Time, at preſent: But referr to another Occaſion what Obſervations I intend to make, on the Story, which I have here ſent you.

I am, SIR, Your never-failing Reader, And humble Servant, COLON.
[353]

To the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

IF ever there was ſuch a Thing, as the moſt Charming Woman in the World, I have found her out, and am in Love with her, beyond all Meaning, Thought or Deſcription: I had, naturally, no Genius to Poetry, but what can't Love make poſſible?—My Miſtreſs, whoſe Wit is as amiable as her Beauty, is a great Friend of the MUSES, and us'd often to reproach me, That I had never writ Verſes upon her.—She went ſo far, at laſt, as to tell me, downright, That ſhe would never be married to to a Man, who had not lov'd her, to ſome Tune.—I readily gueſs'd at her Meaning, and preſented her the next Morning, with the following SONG, which, I aſſure you, was of my own making.

I.
AS Damon ſat by Sylvia's Side,
And watch'd her Eyes, with amorous Pride;
He gently bow'd his leaning Head;
And while It preſt,
Her charming Breaſt,
Thus the tranſported Shepherd ſaid:
[354]II.
Thou ſmiling Cauſe of Reſt, and Pain!
The Youth who loves not, lives in vain?
What Charms have Eyes, where Wiſhes meet!
Where Souls combine,
And Two Hearts join,
Hope is unbounded,—Joy compleat.
III.
No Lamb, of all thy bleating Care,
Looks ſofter than Thy Paſſions are:
Poſſeſſing Thee,—By Thee poſſeſs'd,
I fear no Pain,
I wiſh no Gain,
Who, that's in Heav'n wou'd MORE be bleſs'd?

NOW Sir, the Occaſion of my troubling You is only to know, Whether you can teach me any Method of finding out, what a Woman has a Mind to hide? I can't, for my Life, gueſs, Whether ſhe likes me, or my Song either.—Before I made it, ſhe was for being lov'd to ſome Tune: And now, All I can get from her, is, That ſhe will be admir'd beyond Meaſure. In my Opinion, theſe two Things are Inconſiſtencies; but one that is in Love, is ſo apt to be miſtaken, that I won't take upon me to be poſitive, till I know what You think of it. And, ſo, in Hopes of hearing from You, very ſpeedily, I reſt,—Ah! no—I mean, I remain,

SIR,
Your moſt obedient Servant, MYRTILLO.

The Plain Dealer. No 100.
FRIDAY, March 5. 1725.

[355]
Nam dolor & morbus Lethi fabricator uterque eſt.—
LUCAN.

To the Author of the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

A DEAR Friend of mine having lately loſt a hopeful and beloved Child, and remaining inconſolable thereupon, I beg you'll pleaſe to inſert for the next Paper, the following Abſtract of PLUTARCH's Letter to his WIFE, on a like Occaſion. The ſorrowing Parent is your conſtant Reader, and I know no better Way to calm the Violence of her Grief, than by conveying to her, by Your Means, and under the Sanction of your Authority, ſo many excellent and familiar Things, as flow'd from that Great Man on this melancholy Occaſion: Which may, at the ſame Time, inſpire our Sex with an Ambition, to imitate the Virtues of PLUTARCH's Wife, [356] and ſo to deſerve the Applauſes he gives Her. I am,

SIR,
Your conſtant Reader, and Admirer, ARTEMISIA.

PLUTARCH to his WIFE: All Health.

THE Meſſenger you diſpatched to tell me of the Death of my little Daughter, it ſeems miſs'd his Way as he was going to Athens: But when I came to Tanagra, I heard of it by my Niece. I ſuppoſe, by this Time, the Funeral is over. I wiſh, that whatever happens, as well now, as hereafter, may create you no Diſſatisfaction. But if you have deſignedly let any Thing alone, depending upon my Judgment, I pray let it be, without Ceremony and timorous Superſtition, which I know are far from you. Only, dear Wife! let You and I bear our Affliction with Patience.

I KNOW very well, and comprehend, what Loſs we have had; but if I ſhould find you grieve, beyond Meaſure, this would trouble me more than the Thing it ſelf: For I had my Birth neither from a Stock, nor a Stone; and you know it full well; I having been aſſiſtant to you in the Educacation of ſo many Children, which we [357] brought up at Home under our own Care.

THIS much lamented Daughter was born after Four Sons, which made me call her by your own Name; therefore, I know ſhe was dear to you; and Grief muſt have a peculiar Pungency in a Heart tenderly affectionate to Children; eſpecially when you call to Mind how witty and innocent ſhe was, void of Anger, and not querulous: She was naturally mild and compaſſionate to a Miracle; and gave Specimens of her Humanity and Gratitude towards any Thing that had oblig'd her; for ſhe would pray her Nurſe to give ſuck not only to other Children, but to her very Play-things; as it were, courteouſly inviting them to her Table, and making the beſt Chear for them ſhe could. Now, my dear Wife, I ſee no Reaſon why theſe and the like Things, which delighted us ſo much when ſhe was alive, ſhould, upon Remembrance of them, affect us when ſhe is dead.

IT is but juſt, That the ſame Arguments which we have oftentimes uſed to others, ſhould prevail upon ourſelves at this ſo ſeaſonable a Time; and that we ſhould not ſupinely ſit down, and overwhelm the Joys we have taſted, with a Multiplicity of new Griefs. A vertuous Woman ought thus to think with herſelf, That the Tempeſt of the Mind in violent Grief muſt be calmed by Patience; which does not intrench [358] on the natural Love of Parents towards then Children, as many think, but only ſtruggles againſt diſorderly and irregular Paſſions. For, we allow this Love of Children to diſcover itſelf, in lamenting, wiſhing for, and longing after them when they are dead. But the exceſſive Inclination to Grief, which carries People on to unſeemly Exclamations and furious Behaviour, is no leſs culpable than luxurious Intemperance. Yet Reaſon ſeems to plead in its Excuſe; becauſe, inſtead of Pleaſure, Sorrow is an Ingredient of the Crime. What can be more Irrational, I pray, than to check exceſſive Laughter, and yet, give a free Courſe to Tears, which flow from the ſame Fountain?

FORMERLY, you diſcover'd, on a like Occaſion, great Conſtancy of Mind, when you loſt your Eldeſt Son: And again, when the lovely Ch [...]ron left us. For I remember, when the News was brought me of my Son's Death, as I was returning Home with ſome Friends and Gueſts, when they beheld all Things in Order, and obſerv'd a profound Silence every where (as they afterwards declared to others) they thought no ſuch Calamity had happened, but that the Report was falſe: So diſcreetly had you ſettled the Affairs of the Houſe at that Time, when no ſmall Confuſion and Diſorder might have been expected. And yet you gave this Son ſuck yourſelf, and endured the [359] lancing of your Breaſt, to prevent the ill Effects of a Contuſion.

THESE are Things worthy of a Generous Woman, that loves her Children! Whereas, we ſee moſt others receive them in their Hands as Play-things, with a Feminine Mirth and Jollity, and afterwards, if they chance to die, they drench themſelves in exceſſive Sorrow. Not that this is any Effect of their Love (for that gentle Paſſion acts regularly and diſcreetly!) it proceeds from a Deſire of Vain-glory, mixed with a little natural Affection, which renders their Mourning barbarous and extravagant. Which Thing Aeſop knew very well, when he tells the Story of Jupiter's giving Honours to the Gods: For it ſeems Grief alſo made her Demands; and it was granted, That ſhe ſhould be honoured, but only by Thoſe who were willing, of their own Accord, to do it.

AND, indeed, this is the Beginning of Sorrow: Every-body firſt gives her free Acceſs, and after ſhe is once ſettled, and become familiar, ſhe will not be forced thence with their beſt Endeavours. Therefore, ſhe muſt be reſiſted at her firſt Approach, nor muſt we ſurrender the Fort to her by any exterior Signs, whether of Apparel, or ſhaving the Hair, or any other ſuch like Symptoms of mournful Weakneſs; which, by Degrees, ſo enervate the Mind, and reduce her to ſuch Streights, that, quite dejected [360] and beſieged with Grief, the poor timorous Wretch dare not be merry, or ſee the Light, or eat and drink in Company. The Inconvenience is accompanied by a Neglect of the Body, with whatſoever relates to the Elegance of Humane Life.—Whereas, on the contrary, the Soul, when it is diſordered, ought to receive Aid from the Vigor of a healthful Body. For the ſharpeſt Edge of the Soul's Grief, is rebated, when the Body is in Tranquility, like the Sea in a Calm. But, where from an ill Courſe of Diet, the Body becomes dry and hot, ſo that it cannot ſupply the Soul with commodious and ſerene Spirits; but only breathes forth melancholy Vapours, which annoy her with Sadneſs; there, it is difficult for a Man (tho' never ſo willing) to recover the Tranquility of his Mind, after it hath been diſturbed with ſo many evil Affections.

BUT that which is moſt to be dreaded in this Caſe, does not at all affrighten me; to wit, The Viſits of fooliſh Women, and their accompanying You in Your Tears and Lamentations; by which they ſharpen Grief, not ſuffering it either of itſelf, or by the Help of others, to fade and vaniſh away. For, I am not ignorant how great a Combat you lately entered, when you aſſiſted the Siſter of Theon, and oppoſed the Women who came running in with horrid Cries, bringing Fewel, as it were, to her Paſſion. When Men ſee their Neighbour's [361] Houſe on Fire, every one contributes his utmoſt to quench it: But when they ſee the Mind inflamed with furious Paſſion, they bring Fewel to nouriſh and increaſe it. When a Man's Eye is in Pain, he is not ſuffered to touch it, tho' the Inflammation provoke him to it, nor will they that are near him meddle with it. But he who is gall'd with Grief, ſits and expoſes his Diſtemper to every one, like Waters that all may poach in; and ſo that which at firſt ſeem'd a light or trivial Smart, by much Fretting and Provoking, becomes great, and incurable.

I WOULD have you endeavour to call to Mind that Time, when our Daughter was not, as yet, born to us: Then, joining that Time with this, argue thus with your ſelf, we are now in the ſame Condition as then: Otherwiſe, dear Wife, we ſhall ſeem diſcontented at the Birth of our little Daughter, if we own, that our Circumſtances were better before it. The Two Years of her Life are, by no means, to be forgotten, by us, but to be numbered amongſt our Bleſſings, in that they afforded us an agreeable Pleaſure. Shall we not eſteem a ſmall Good becauſe of a great Evil? or, Shall we ungratefully complain againſt Fortune for what ſhe has actually given us, becauſe ſhe has not added what we wiſh for?—Certainly, to ſpeak reverently of the Gods, and to bear our lot with an even [362] Mind, without accuſing Fortune, always brings with it a fair Reward. And he, who in ſuch a Caſe, calls proſperous Things to Mind, and, turning his Thoughts from dark and melancholy Objects, fixes them on bright and chearful Ones; will either quite extinguiſh his Grief, or, by allaying it with contrary Sentiments will render it more feeble.

TRUE Happineſs conſiſts in the right Counſels of the Mind, tending to its own conſtant Eſtabliſhment; and the Changes of Fortune are of no great Importance to the Felicity of our Life: if we are govern'd by exterior Things, and, with the Vulgar, have a Regard to Caſualties, we ſuffer any kind of Men to be Judges of our Happineſs, it will certainly ill become us, to accuſe our Life, if, like a Book, it hath but one Blot in it, and all the reſt be fair and candid.

DO not You, therefore take Notice of the Tears and Moans of ſuch as viſit you, at preſent, condoling your Misfortune; for their Tears and Sighs are but of Courſe. Rather conſider, How happy every one of them eſteemed you for the Children you have, the Houſe you keep, and the Life you lead. For it would be an ill thing, while others covet your Fortune, tho' ſullied with this Affliction, that you ſhould exclaim againſt what you enjoy; and not be ſenſible, from the Taſte of Affliction how grateful you ought to be for the Happineſs which remains untouched. [363] Or, like ſome, who collecting all the defective Verſes of Homer, paſs'd over at the ſame time, ſo many excellent Parts of his Poems: So ſhall we peeviſhly complain of, and reckon up the Inconveniencies of our Life, neglecting the Benefits thereof? Or, Shall we imitate Covetous and Sordid Miſers, who having heap'd together much Riches, never enjoy what they have in Poſſeſſion, but bewail it inconſolably, if it chance to be loſt.

BUT, if you lament the poor Girl, becauſe ſhe died unmarried, and without Offſpring, you have wherewithal to comfort your ſelf, in that You are defective in none of theſe Things, having had Your Share: And theſe are not to be eſteemed great Evils where they are wanted, and ſmall Benefits where they are enjoyed. So long as ſhe is gone to a Place where ſhe feels no Pain, ſhe has no Need of our Grief: For, what Harm can befall us from her, when ſhe is free from all Hurt? And, ſurely, the Loſs of great Things abates the Grief, when it is come to this; That there is no more Ground of Grief or Care for them. But thy TIMOXENA was deprived but of ſmall Matters; for ſhe had no Knowledge but of ſuch; neither took ſhe Delight but in ſuch ſmall Things. How then can you ſay, That that is taken from her, which ſhe never was ſenſible of, and which never ſo much as entered into her Thoughts?

[364] As for what you hear Others ſay, who perſuade the Vulgar, That the Soul when once freed from the Body, ſuffers no Inconvenience or Evil, nor is ſenſible at all; I know, that you are better grounded in the Doctrines delivered down to us from our Anceſtors. For the Religious Symbols are well known to us, who are of the Fraternity: Therefore, be aſſured, That the Soul, being incapable of Death, ſuffers in the Body, in the ſame Manner as Birds that are kept in a Cage. Wherefore,

Even when we firſt receive our Breath,
'Twere good to paſs the Gates of Death;

Before too great a Love of Earthly Things be engendred in the Soul, and it become ſoft and tender by being uſed to the Body; and, as it were, incorporated with it.

The Plain Dealer. No 101.
MONDAY, March 8. 1725.

[365]
Lectorem delectando, pariterque monendo.
HOR.

To the Author of the PLAIN-DEALER.

SIR,

WHILE I intended to have ſent you an Eſſay on Plain-Dealing, I fell into a Converſation, which furniſhed me with it, and the Narrative will be thought a more lively Entertainment. The Society was compoſed of ſome of your old ſtandard Friends, whoſe agreeable Characters gave Life to your Underſtanding.—I was carried thither to have the Honour of being introduced to the Plain Dealer; but, it ſeems, you were taking Obſervations from your Watch-Tower of Barbican, concerning which, I make no doubt, we ſhall hear ſomething to our Advantage; and ſo, as it happen'd, I miſs'd the Pleaſure which had [366] been promiſed me. However, as your Admirer, I beg to be admitted into the Number of your Correſpondents, while I inform you, That the Company I met, were the Clergyman, the Critick, Major Stedfaſt, Ned Volatile, and your own dear Patty Amble.

THE good Gentleman in Black, took Occaſion, from our Speaking of the Title of your Paper, to diſtinguiſh a Plain Dealer from a Rough Dealer: That is, a Man, whoſe Knowledge and Generoſity inſpire him with a Delight in befriending Mankind, from the brutal Impertinent, whoſe Ignorance but affects Meaning, and prompts him to ſuppoſe he appears Wiſeſt, when moſt inſufferably Shocking. The Virtues of Plain Dealing, ſaid he, are, by awkard Imitators, debaſed into Ill-Manners, and Inhumanity. The Brute, who boaſts of his Bluntneſs, is a loud Cenſurer of other Mens Conduct, and never right in his own.—His Eloquence is a Froth of Expreſſion, without Depth, or Perſpicuity.—While his Depravity miſtakes Brutalities for Beauties, the Graces of human Life are rejected by him as Frailties! Becauſe his own Nature is impenetrably obdurate, he calls Obſtinacy Magnanimity! Compaſſion for the Afflicted, is a Weakneſs in the Mind; and a Readineſs to forgive Injuries, an Affectation, or Deficiency of Spirit.

The Plain Dealer, refining Nature, by Principle, acts the Inquiſitor within himſelf, [367] and throws out a Light of Example, as well as Inſtruction, upon the World.—The Former inſults the Unfortunate with Cenſure; but the Latter, reproaching only the Proud and Proſperous, corrodes not the Wounds of the Afflicted, by inſiſting on paſt, and irretrievable Miſcarriges. Yet, by ſome gentle Alluſion to their Actions, he awakens a Reflection, that can arm them for their future Safety.—We judge of Things impartially upon a Surprize, by ſuch Compariſon; and, condemning our own Faults in others, are forced to ſtand ſelf-convicted, when the Recoil is made upon our ſelves.

But the Barbarity of a profound Pedant is ſtill worſe, if poſſible, than that of a ſhallow Impertinent. The Ignorance of the one, can only move us to Contempt; but the Learning of the other, provokes our Deteſtation. Tho' Envy may hurt Genius, by urging it, in the Diſguiſe of Flattery, upon too ardent and improper Eſſays, yet, in the dogmatizing Pedant, it has ſhock'd Worth much more fatally at its firſt ſetting out; and extinguiſh'd a Spirit, which no Encouragement could re-kindle. A Pedant ungratefully turns that Force to the Diſcouragement of Learning, with whic [...] Learning has arm'd him to make War againſt Ignorance.—While the Plain Dealer reproves, he ſets Merits againſt Errors, and the Luſtre of the one, deepens the [368] Shade of the other! To diſplay but the dark Side a Man, either damps him with a Terror, that incapacitates him for Action, or diſguſts him into a ſtubborn Indulgence of thoſe Follies he would otherwiſe have grown aſhamed of. Roughneſs in Converſation, being like Perſecution in Religion, Proſelytes are gain'd ſooneſt by a gentle Manner of Perſuaſion; and I am pleas'd with a Saying that is recorded of King Henry the Fourth of France.—A Drop of Honey draws more Flies, than a Spoonful of Vinegar.

IN ſhort, the Force of a fine Inſtruction ought to ſtrike like a Flaſh of Lightning! As the Subtilty of the one, is ſaid to diſſolve the Bone, without bruiſing the Fleſh; the other, with a Surprize of Influence, ſhoots Remorſe thro' the Heart, before the Temper can be ruffled into a Diſpoſition to repulſe it. In this Light, a Plain Dealer is a Father, or rather a Friend, which is yet dearer.—A Father may leave us Wealth and Titles, from which we may derive Authority or Diſtinction; but ſuch a Friend, can teach us to be wiſe, and Wiſdom illuſtrates Obſcurity, and adorns Dignity with an Eminence ſuperior to that of Fortune; it veſts us too with the nobleſt Power, for it enables us to govern our Paſſions.—Alexander juſtly preferr'd his Maſter Ariſtotle to his Father Philip. The King, ſaid he, but made me a Prince, the Philoſopher made me a Man.

[369] I OBSERV'D, That your dear Patty Amble, delighting to talk much, took little Pleaſure in giving Attention. But that Lady urges her Sex's Privilege, when ſhe declares an Antipathy to Plain Dealing. Ah! cried the charming Coquet, how preferable is Flattery to Plain Dealing? I know, that, in the common Cant, Flattery is ſaid to be groſs; that it is called, The Craft of the Courtier! The Seducer of Beauty! and, The vain Promiſer of a Happineſs, which it never means to beſtow! But, let me tell you, they had done it more Juſtice, had they called it, The Soother of Diſcontent! The Refiner of Fancy! The Imbelliſhment of Converſation! The very Inſpirer of polite Pleaſures!—What a Delicacy of Delight ſhould we loſe, were that odious Plain Dealing to prevail? Mr. Volatile would no longer give the Tattling of a Lady, the complaiſant Term of Livelineſs; nor the Major ſoften our Sex's Levities with the pretty Title of, Innocent Amuſements. Our Expence in Dreſs, Equipage, Maſquerades, and Opera Subſcriptions, would loſe the agreeable Name of Taſte, for that hideous one of Extravagance; ſo that our darling Modes of Thinking, which we have ſo long been told, are owing to our Reaſon and Diſcernment, would then be forc'd to wear a much more mortifying Title, and be called, Our downright Vanity.

[370] I WAS willing to take the Advantage of this Pauſe but could not reſiſt the Pleaſure of liſtening to that ever-rambling, ever-agreeable Tongue! What Lover (continued the inchanting Trifler) would not rather be flatter'd into Hope, then abandon'd to Deſpair by Plain Dealing? The Coxcomb delightfully deceives himſelf, by fancying our very Denials to be Tokens of our future Favours. The Man of Senſe (who, when a Lover, is, of Courſe, to be miſtaken) believes the Charmer, he admires, has a Wit as penetrating as her Eyes; and, vain of the real Worth he poſſeſſes, becomes Fool enough, in his Turn, to think Merit a Recommendation to the Ladies!—Thus, when you flatter Us, you appear agreeable, when we flatter You, we ſecure our Conqueſts; and when we Both flatter Ourſelves, we conſult and preſerve our Quiet. Theſe are Pleaſures, which Plain Dealing would intirely deface, and aboliſh.

BUT, Madam, cried Ned Volatile, as Beaus and Ladies admire Things for their Novelty, we Men of Speculation, approve them moſt for their Antiquity.—A Man of Dreſs, is pleas'd with a Sword-Knot and Cane-String, after the neweſt Faſhion; while a Virtuoſo prefers a ruſty Roman Javelin to the White Wand of a Lord-Treaſurer.—The Herald derives the Honour of Families from their Antiquity: And ſince there can be no Doubt, but Flattery is more [371] ancient, it muſt therefore be more honourable than Plain Dealing.

Plain Dealing, interrupted the Critick, had been more gracefully drawn, in the favourite Character of Mr. Wicherley's Comedy; if his good Qualities, remaining equally ſtrong, had been ſoften'd, to appear more amiable. But his Judgment is mix'd with Partiality, and his Wit with Ill-manners. He's impatient of Contradiction, and exceeds, in Self-conceitedneſs, the very Coxcombs he contemns.—As a Lover, his Indecency checks our Regard, and ſeems to juſtifie the Ill-uſage which he meets with.

COULD Plain-Dealing (obſerv'd the Major) be forgiven among the Great, it would both adorn and defend them. On the contrary, Double Dealing, which is an Accompliſhment they are fond of, has been more dangerous to Princes, than the moſt open Rebellion. Had Tarquin never truſted the Diſſimulation of the Firſt Brutus, the Expulſion of his Race had been prevented: And, I think, it may eaſily be determined, by the Unprejudiced, how far the admired Laſt of that Name deviated from his boaſted Honeſty, when he conſpired againſt the Man whoſe Intereſt he eſpouſed, and whoſe particular Affection had pardon'd, promoted, and confided in him; when, in the Perſon of that God-like Caeſar, he aſſaſſinated his Father, his Friend, and his Preſerver.

[372] I HAD now an Opportunity to offer my Sentiments, in my Turn; and ventur'd to interpoſe as follows.—Were Plain Dealing a Court Vertue, it would free great Numbers from the Miſery of a vain Dependance, and avoid the Reſentment of thoſe, whom Double Dealing diſappoints, or makes Inſtruments of. Greatneſs proves often too weak a Protection; for the meaneſt Adverſary may become conſiderable in Miſchief. However an angry Multitude may vary in their Tempers, their Paſſions, like different Arrows, carry all the ſame Sharpneſs, and are commonly pointed at one Mark.—Upon the Whole, If Wiſdom is better than Cunning, if Honeſty may be allowed the ſafeſt Principle of Policy; there is then this Difference betwixt Double Dealing and Plain Dealing; The one, confounds Families and Kingdoms, and renders the Guilty, when diſcover'd, deteſtable, even in the Grave: The other confirms Juſtice, baniſhes Diſtruſt from Correſpondence, ſtrengthens Friendſhip in Private; and in Publick, is the Mark of a Patriot; and will tranſmit the Poſſeſſor's Memory to the Affection of future Ages.

I am, SIR, Your moſt humble Servant, R. S.

The Plain Dealer. No 102
FRIDAY, March 12. 1725.

[373]
Vilius Argentum eſt Auro, Virtutibus Aurum.
HOR.

To the PLAIN-DEALER.

SIR,

I AM a Young Fellow, left by my Parents without any Proviſion, beſides that of a good Education; nor have I any Proſpect of Fortune, but what I may, by the Aſſiſtance of that, hope to raiſe in my Profeſſion. You will certainly think I had other Buſineſs to mind, than being in Love; and yet, Sir, that is the Cauſe of my preſent Application.—I muſt own myſelf not able to withſtand the Charms of a certain Young Lady, who is one of your Readers. She is at once, Miſtreſs of the greateſt Senſe, Knowledge, Wit, and Sweetneſs of [374] Temper; Qualities, each of which by itſelf (poſſeſs'd to that eminent Degree, ſhe now enjoys them all) were ſufficient to make whomſoever ſhe honours with her Choice, compleatly happy! She has, for ſome Time, admitted me to the Favour of viſiting her, and treats me, on all Occaſions, with the greateſt Civility. I have heard her often ſay, She thought the Law (to which, by this Time, you perceive I belong) the moſt Genteel, and Honourable, of all Profeſſions; That ſhe never would marry for Money;—And a Hundred ſuch Things, that a young Fellow, as I am, is naturally vain enough to conſtrue into Encouragements. But, Sir, ſhe is a great Fortune; and you know what Ridicule a Young Man, without any, meets with, who makes Addreſſes of that Kind, and comes off unſucceſsfully.—I deſire, therefore, you would take an Opportunity, in one of your Papers, to let her know, That if ſhe has any ſuch Thoughts, as my Wiſhes have flattered my Hopes into a Suſpicion of, Her Advances ought to be a great deal more, than is uſually judged reaſonable: For while I have the leaſt Doubt of her Inclinations, I had rather die a Thouſand Deaths, than, by a miſtaken Preſumption, run the Hazard of loſing, what alone can make Life valuable, to,

SIR,
Your very Humble Servant, SYLVIO.

[375]THE Caſe of my Correſpondent is pretty nice, and as this ſeems to be a Matter of the greateſt Importance to both Parties, I think I cannot beſtow a Paper better, than in taking it into Conſideration, and in giving ſome Advice, that may be of Service to all, who are in the ſame Circumſtances.

IF we conſider the Affair of Marriage, as it is now generally carried on in the World, there are innumerable Difficulties, which damp purſuits of that Kind, in a Young Fellow, who, let him deſerve ever ſo well in other Reſpects, wants (what the World alone eſteems Merit) an ESTATE.

SOME of theſe Difficulties ariſe from the Women themſelves.—There are few among them to be found, who have any Notion of Enjoyments, beyond mere ſenſual Gratifications. A Maſquerade affords them infinitely more Pleaſure, than the brighteſt Converſation; a Diamond has more Charms, than any of the moral Virtues; and, I doubt not, there are ſome, who, for the Sake of riding in a Coach and Six, would Yoke themſelves with a verier Beaſt, than any in their own Equipage. Let any one Traffick with them for the dear Delights of Wealth, they will buy, even at the higheſt Price;—That is, They will pay the Purchaſe in what they prize moſt—Themſelves.—And, tho' hardly any Match, on theſe Conſiderations alone, has ever yet proved happy, They ſtill [376] go on;—Notwithſtanding they are ſure to repent, They never fail to make the Choice.

How wretched is the faithful Youth,
Since Womens Hearts were Bought and Sold!
They ask not Vows of ſacred Truth,
Whene'er they ſ [...]gh, they ſ [...]gh for Gold.

OTHER Women there are, indeed, whoſe Minds, of a leſs mercenary Caſt, conſider only the Merit of their Admirers; who are capable of receiving that Love which flows from Eſteem, and of taſting Happineſs from rational Enjoyments. But, how few of theſe enjoy the Liberty of chooſing for themſelves? How many groan under the Tyranny of an Avaritious Parent? who would no more part with his Daughter, than his Land, to any but the beſt Purchaſer. How would he Scoff at a Young Man's Impudence? who, inſtead of paying Her Price, ſhould pretend to talk of Her Happineſs!

FROM thus much of the Sex, then, Moneyleſs Merit ſeems intirely excluded. The Woman who has Liberty, as well as Capacity, to make a prudent Choice, is the only one with whom we can hope Succeſs. And here ariſe new Difficulties, from another Side; The Men are now our Hindrance, and one in my Correſpondent's Circumſtances, muſt expect himſelf to ſuffer for the general ill Character of his Sex. Men daily ſhew themſelves [377] as little diſintereſted, in their Purſuits, as Women. Age, Folly, and Ill-Nature, are no Impediments to them, provided there be but Money.—Love, and Eſteem, are ſo frequently uſed as Pretences, while the real Affection is only for the Fortune, that Women are alarm'd at the firſt Approach; and a Young Fellow dares hardly Love, where Prudence only permits him to Love, without incurring the odious Title of a Fortune-hunter.

IF therefore my Correſpondent ſincerely feels, within himſelf, that diſintereſted Affection, which he ſeems to act by, I would adviſe him to take all poſſible Methods to convince the Lady of it; I need not direct him how; for, if he is ſincere, his Paſſion will diſcover it ſelf in every Word and Action. But by no means let him be haſty, in his Addreſſes.—With a Lady of her Senſe, his Modeſty will add much to his Influence. True Love ſprings not upon a ſudden, and ſhould he urge his Wiſhes, too far, before her Inclination has improv'd itſelf into Affection, ſhe might rationally conſtrue his Forwardneſs to proceed from other Motives, than the genuine Effects of his perſonal, and diſintereſted, Admiration.

ON the other Side, I muſt take upon me to remind the Young Lady, that Time is more in haſte, than ſhe is; and I would adviſe her, if ſhe is (as I preſume) at her own Diſpoſal, and if ſhe is ſatisfied of the Merit, [378] as well as the Affection, of our Young Lawyer (as one of the Senſe he aſcribes to her, may ſoon be) not to demur upon his Want of Fortune. Happineſs in Marriage, does not depend on Suitableneſs of Eſtates, but of Tempers. If there be but a Competency on one Side, no matter on which it lies.—Love, indeed, ſhould be reciprocal, but there is no Neceſſity, that Fortune ſhould. There is This more to be conſidered, That, beſides the Happineſs of an agreeable Partner for Life, which ſhe will enjoy, in common with him, ſhe will have the Addition of a ſuperior Satisfaction, in the noble, and ever-pleaſing Reflection, That ſhe has intitled herſelf, as well to his Gratitude, as his Love, by exalting a Man of Worth, into Eminence, and Proſperity; who, otherwiſe, for want only of That, which ſhe abounded in, might have had his Genius depreſs'd, and been loſt in Obſcurity.

To the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

THIS Place, which once, was the celebrated Seat of Wit, is now deſerted by all that Sort of Company, and transformed into an Old Bailey, in Miniature. The Claſſics are elbowed out, by the Conſtables; and inſtead of Poems, or Eſſays, nothing is heard of, here, but Warrants, and Commitments. Moſt of the good Company [379] is frighten'd away, to make Room for the grave, and thoſe who dare ſtay, croudle about the Fire, when a Magiſtrate enters, with as much Terror, as if they ſaw a Ghoſt. I beg you would deal a little plainly with theſe Men of Authority; and adviſe them to reflect on the Illegality of putting His Majeſty's peaceful Subjects into bodily Dread; if not on the Highway, yet in Places deſign'd to be as Publick. For they ſtrut about the Room, and ſhoot out their Mittimus's, like Porcupine's Quills; ſo that unleſs, among other Poetical Licences, Wit can plead an Exemption from their Cognizance, they are unfit for the Gay World's Society, and ought to live by themſelves. And you may aſſure them, if they provoke us much more, we will bring the dead Lyon to Life again, and doubt not, but with a few Days good Feeding, he will be able to treat Maſqueraders, who flant it in his Skin, as an Anceſtor of his, did their Predeceſſor, in Aeſop.

I am, SIR, Your Humble Servant, TIMORET.

I find, among the Letters, which came to my Hand, in the laſt Packet, one Epiſtle, of ſo extraordinary a Kind, that (to confeſs a plain Truth) it exceeds my Capacity to judge [380] rightly, concerning it.—I am not a Stranger to the Tradition, which carries ſo much Weight, with the Seafaring Part of His Majeſty's Liege-People, that the Apes, and Monkies, of Africa, can ſpeak, like Men, when they have a Mind to it:—Yet I am, naturally, not over credulous: But, ſince I am told there are (among the Directors of the Guinea Company) PROOFS to be met with, which make the Truth of it unqueſtionable, I am almoſt perſwaded to give myſelf up to the Belief of a Thing which ſeems, indeed, to be, very clearly, made out, by my underwritten Correſpondent.

Worthy SIR,

I AM a Native of the Weſtern Africa; a Subject of the King of Tombuto: By Species I am no more than a Monkey,; but I am in a fair Way to be made a Man: For a fine young Lady, of a great Fortune, is fallen deſperately in Love with me, and prefers me, in the moſt open Manner, before all her other Admirers.—But, in the midſt of this unhop'd Felicity, comes a Feathery Fool, called a Parrot, to a Houſe, that is juſt over againſt us, and has tattled himſelf into ſuch Eminence, that they talk of a Project on Foot, to remove him very ſhortly into a HOUSE of much more Diſtinction.

THE Competition I have obſerved, among your great Men (or Perſons of Quality) who ſhall bid moſt, for this empty Prater, has [381] provoked me to diſcover a Talent, which is conceal'd, with all poſſible Caution, by the Laws of our mimick Species.—In ſhort, I am forced to cry out Shame, on theſe People's unreaſonable Partiality.—If my Fop of a Rival, was nearer a Kin to them, than I am, I ſhould not wonder at their Preference: But, ſince Nature has given it on my Side, and my Shape, my Air, my Countenance, and, in particular, my Parts, and Diſpoſition, all concur to demonſtrate my Affinity, to theſe unjuſt Judges; while Poll, with all his Impertinence, can pretend to no other Reſemblance, than what lies in his fine Cloaths, and everlaſting Pratling, without knowing a Word of his own Meaning; theſe Things, I ſay, duly conſidered, you will not, I hope, impute to Envy, what ariſes merely from a modeſt Conſciouſneſs of my own Virtues: But exert yourſelf in the Behalf of overlooked (if not oppreſs'd) Merit. I am,

Worthy SIR,
Your moſt Obedient Servant, PUGG.

P.S. MY Miſtreſs takes in your Paper, and likes you mightily.—She had juſt called for a Pen, and Ink, to write you a Letter, about the laſt Opera, when a Lady came, and took her out, and has left me this Opportunity of ſending my Caſe to the PLAIN DEALER.

The Plain Dealer. No 103.
MONDAY, March 15. 1725.

[382]
—Falſis terroribus implet.—
HOR.

AMONG many Letters, I have lately received, the Two following will furniſh my Readers with no diſagreeable Entainment.

To the PLAIN-DEALER.

SIR,

I AM ſeldom negligent, in my Attendance at the Coffee-Houſe, upon thoſe Days, when you favour the World with your Lectures;—You very prudently entertain us, with a great deal of Variety: Which is, doubtleſs, the moſt ready, and infallible Means of Improvement. For, if you altogether treated about Religious or Moral Duties, you would be diſregarded by your gay Readers, and reliſh'd only by your [383] Rational. But as we are ignorant of what you will diſcourſe, 'till we take up your Papers, we may, out of Curioſity, be unawares catched, by an Admonition in Maſquerade, under the Diſguiſe of a mere Amuſement.—

YOU have indulged no obſcene, or immoral Reflections: But have, on the contrary, diſcountenanced Vice; and ſupported Religion, with Vivacity, and Frankneſs of Spirit; conſequently, the Inconſiderate may, by Degrees, be awakened into an Exertion of the Thinking Faculty; by which chiefly we are diſtinguiſhed, and ſupport our boaſted Superiority, over the brutal Creation. A virtuous Reader of your Paper can at worſt but be render'd chearful, without Violation of his Innocence.—And your Writings being generally pleaſing, and very often uſeful, I flatter my ſelf, That Men are not ſo abandoned to Ignorance, as we are ready to imagine, ſince they give ſuch a kind Acceptation to you Eſſays, which have no mean, or ungenerous Gratifications to recommend them.—

I LEARN, from your Plain Dealing, to be inoffenſive in Converſation; I obſerve all that paſſes, wherever I happen to be; and endeavour, at the ſame Time, to contract or extend my ſelf, till I am grown fit for my Company. Though, by the Way, we ſhould reſolutely preſerve this moſt reaſonable Steadineſs, on no Account whatever, to [384] humour a Friend at the Expence of our Health, our Reputation, or our Virtue. FRIEND, did I ſay? I retract the Appellation;—For certainly, if we think right, that Perſon who ſolicites us to Actions inconſiſtent with Reaſon, with Honour, or with Decency, is undeſerving of ſo ſublime a Character.—But (this ſingle Exception allow'd for) we ſhould condeſcend to appear blind to the Weakneſſes of thoſe we converſe with—And he, who acts otherwiſe, will juſtly incur the Cenſure of an odious, and ſcornful Auſterity.—A Man's firſt Care ſhould be to avoid the Reproaches of his own Heart, and his ſecond to eſcape the ill Wiſhes of other People.

WE learn, with Delight, from ſuch Plain Dealing as yours, That a wiſe Man's Buſineſs is to ſubdue the Roughneſs of Paſſion, into the Calmneſs of a tranquil Humility; And that the more his Knowledge is enlarg'd, the more he will perceive wanting, to be ſearch'd after. Tully tells us, The Mind of a wiſe Man never ſwells, nor becomes elated. For my own Part, I fancied my ſelf, when I was young, to be acquaint- with every Thing: But now, I can perceive my Learning contracted with a narrow Circle, and almoſt obſcured in a dark Point; when compared with that infinite, and inexhauſtible Number of Subjects, to which I am an utter Stranger. In a Word, I am convinced, That an ill-grounded Conceitedneſs [385] of our own Abilities is the moſt contemptible Weakneſs of Nature: And, even where it may ſeem juſtified, by our real Merit, it renders odious, and ſupportable, the very Virtue, which Occaſions it.

BUT, to make a Tranſition, from what I learn from you, to an Information I intend to give you; There is a pretty Maxim in the Guardian, to think with the Wiſe, but talk with the Vulgar: Which occurr'd ſtrongly to my Memory, upon obſerving with what Pleaſure your late Cambridge Letter, concerning ſome little feminine Exravagancies, was received in all Places.—Give me Leave, therefore, to entertain you with a ſtrange, and fearful Diſcovery, which, it was lately my Fortune to make, upon paſſing a Night or Two, in a Country Village.—It was in a Ramble, laſt Harveſt, I had the Honour to wait on a Widow, (as well ſtor'd as the Fields were) in a kind of Progreſs, to viſit her Tenants.—

AFTER Dinner, one Day, I left the good Company, with their honeſt Entertainers, the Farmer and his narrative Family, to accompany the Inhabitants of the Yard; and enjoy the ſilent Serenity of a very beautiful Proſpect; which was bounded by the Shade of Trees and Hills, with ruin'd Buildings, at a little Diſtance from the Cottage.—I was envying the Happineſs, and Quiet, of theſe unbuſy People; and had wander'd, as it were inſenſibly, over half a [386] Dozen Stiles, into the Remoteneſs of a hollow ſandy way: Where I ſtood with great Delight, to obſerve the Fall of a pretty Rill, which guſhing out from among the Ruſhes above, roll'd down the ſandy Bank, and ſhap'd it ſelf a Paſſage, along the Bottom of the Road I walk'd in. The Gloomineſs that was ſpread all round, had fitted this Place, above all I had ever ſeen, for the Abode of fantaſtick Melancholly: And whilſt I was buſied in Thoughts of this Nature, I ſaw a Country Woman haſten towards me, who wav'd her Hand, as ſhe came forward, and cried out to me, to walk on.—For I was ſtanding at Gooddy Hubbard's watering Place!

AS ſoon as the good Woman came near enough to be ask'd, What ſhe meant, I found, that Gooddy Hubbard was a Witch, that lived in the Wood: And, that if any Cow, Horſe, or other Cattle, ſtaid long enough in that Place, to drink of its enchanted Water, All the Hay they ſhould eat, from that Time forward, would be turned into crooked Pins, and the poor Beaſts muſt certainly die after it. I begged ſhe would go along with me, to ſhew me the Witch's Houſe: To which Propoſition ſhe replied, with inexpreſſible Conſternation, She would not, for the World, be ſo preſumptuous: She added, That it was about half a Mile off, and ſhook her Head, and aſſured me, that the whole Village trembled [387] at the Sight of this Goody Hubbard. That, for her own Part very lately, as ſhe was Gleaning in a Field, by the Wood's Side, the Witch had appeared to her out of the Hedge, in the Shape of the Leaf of a Tree: And ran along before her, and play'd Gambols, over and over in her Path, all the Way, as ſhe came home again.—I ask'd her, Whether ſhe had found any ill Conſequence, after ſo terrible an Accident? And ſhe anſwer'd, (with great Innocence and Gravity) That ſhe had but too much Reaſon to believe, ſhe was bewitched, having many ſtrange and wicked Thoughts running ever Day in her Head, about Things ſhe had never been troubled with, (till that unfortunate Leaf fell in her way) ſince ſhe was a Maid, or but little better.

I COULD not reſiſt the Temptation, which theſe ſilly Stories left me under, of making a Viſit to the formidable Gooddy Hubbard; whom I found, in a little Hovel, which the Charity of the Lord of the Manor had ordered to be built for her, in the Wood; becauſe the honeſt People of the Village, having taken it into their Heads to make a Witch of the poor old Woman, fell upon her, as often as ſhe came in their Way: And had two or three times endangered her Life, by ſcratching her with their Nails, till every Body had fetch'd Blood of her, (as the Phraſe is) after which, it ſeems, no Witch, in England, has Power to hurt a Hair of any Perſon's Head, who takes this effectual Way to diſarm her,

[388] I CAME off, with no other Damage, than the Loſs of all the Money I had in my Pocket; which the Influence of downright Compaſſion compelled me to leave behind, for the Comfort of an afflicted Creature, whoſe unſupported Age, and Wretchedneſs, inſtead of the Relief or Pity, which was due to them by Nature, had procur'd her the malicious Rage, and Perſecution, of unthinking Ignorance!—I return'd to my Widow; and after a long and pleſant Converſation, on the Subject of Witchcraft, agreed heartily with her, That there were ſuch Things as Witches; and took upon me to aſſure, with a Sigh, and a downcaſt Eye, That I had, my ſelf, ſuffer'd, ſo ſeverely, by one of them, that I never expected to become my own Man again; though I ſhould live to the Age of a Patriarch.

I am, Mr. PLAIN-DEALER, Your very humble Servant, PHILOTHEUS.

To the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

CASTING my Eye upon Horace, I found this excellent Piece of Advice, Leges & Perſcrutabere Doctos. As I generally put in Practice what I read, in Purſuance to his Advice, I ſent for a Set of your Papers, and am now carefully peruſing [389] them. I take the ſame Method that Lawyers generally do with their Reports, read the Modern Caſes firſt, ſo go upward, till they come to the Fountain-Head. But, when I light upon ſome of your Female Correſpondents, it puts me in Mind of the Roman Ladies, of old; they reſemble them ſo much in Spirit, and Paſſion, that I verily believe, many of their Great Great Grandmothers lye buried in the Campus Martius, or the Capitol. 'Tis not incredible, That, after Caeſar had firſt enter'd Britain, ſome of their Legionary Ladies, upon the Fame of the Britons unwearied Courage, might make a ſecond Roman Invaſion, and with as good Succeſs as Caeſar, after he had opened a Paſſage for them.

LIVY, ſome where, tells us, That when the old Gentlemen of Rome were contriving a Scheme to have more of their Ladies good Company at home, the Women roſe up in Arms, to the great Surprize of the Roman State; That they denied the Senators a free Paſſage to the Houſe: And, that Cato by Name, had like to have been carried off by the Mob. They claimed, as their ancient Rights, and undoubted Privileges, almoſt as ſtrange Things, as your Miſtreſs does, in her late Scheme for eſtabliſhing a Female Parliament. However, upon a Parly between both Parties, the Women ſubmitted the Caſe to the Senate: Where, they always carried the Majority, though 'tis well known, no Lady ſate in [390] Houſe. Nor was that at all ſurprizing: For if we examine Hiſtory, I believe, we ſhall find, the Senate, at that Time, conſiſted more of Wits, than of Wiſe Men; over whom, for the ſake of Politeneſs, the Women muſt have moſt Influence; nor is it leſs probable, that their being in Arms might frighten the old Gentlemen.

THE Uſe of Bribery likewiſe, had then newly been found out; and, I dare ſay, there was no Lady, who had not about her, wherewithal to purchaſe a Vote. Such was the Courage of the Roman Ladies of old: And how exactly our Moderns imitate them, is, I believe, too plain to need deſcribing: Happy, therefore it is, and much for the Peace of Great Britain, that our Parliament has never attempted the Moderation of their exorbitant Hoops, or the Abridgement of their Pin-Money! For my Part I muſt frankly confeſs, I have no Objection to make againſt Mrs. Patty Amble's Propoſal. Other Men may have their Fears, from the ſuppoſed Conſequences of a Female Parliament: But, I think, they are out in their Politicks.—If a Power grows always weaker, the more it is divided, Let me be a Republican, in Love, and chuſe rather to pay Obebience to Five Hundred of theſe pretty COMMONS; that live a Slave, to One, Sole TYRANT; and neither enjoy, nor dare talk of, my Liberty.—Alas, Sir! This is exactly the preſent Caſe of

Your Humble Servant, POLITICUS.

The Plain Dealer. No 104.
FRIDAY, March 19. 1725.

[391]
Quid deceat, quid non; quo Virtus, quo ferat Error.
HOR.

I FELL lately into Company with a Claſs of young Poets, who affect to be Admirers of Taſſo, and were Extravagant in their Praiſe of a Simile, in his Gieruſalemme, where the Devil, maligning the Succeſs of the Chriſtian Arms, is ſaid, To bite his Lips, and ſpurn up the Floor of Hell, in bellowing Rage, like a wild Bull, when the Dogs are baiting him.

THEY made me promiſe, That I would give them my impartial Opinion; and, becauſe they earneſtly preſs to know it, I will borrow the Reflections of a Friend, on the Subject of Similes, in general; which contain whatever I would ſay, were I to ſpeak concerning the Nature of this great Ornament to Poetry; than which there is nothing more capable of being made either delightful or ridiculous, according as it is uſed, diſcreetly, or at random.

[392]THE Uſe, which a Poet ought to make of Compariſons, is to illuſtrate the Object repreſented; that is, to enlighten and enlarge the Apprehenſion of the Reader. The Nature therefore, of the Thing, which is compared, muſt correſpond exactly with what it is compared to: There muſt not only be an apparent Reſemblance, but a viſible Proportion. A Thing low, and inconſiderable, may be like enough to ſomething great, and magnificent; but then, wanting Dignity to appear in its Company, no Poet of Judgment ſhould ſubmit to make Uſe of it.—I will give the Reader an Inſtance of a very remarkable Fault of this Kind;—Sir Richard Blackmore, in his Prince Arthur, has been pleaſed to compare the Devil, looking down from a Mountain, on the Britiſh Camp, to a Toad, on the Border of a Walk looking up at the Gardener.

While, with malignant Eyes, th' Apoſtate view'd
Their Hoſt, with Octa's Meſſage pleas'd, he ſtood,
Stung deep with Malice, and with Envy torn,
While all his Veins, like Aetna's Furnace, burn.

THE Veins of the Devil, I ſuppoſe, were not ſo much owing to Sir Richard's Forgetfulneſs, that he was deſcribing a Spirit; as to a politick Deſign of reducing Satan to downright Fleſh and Blood, that the Reader, conceiving a more humble Opinion of him, than he had been taught in his Infancy, [393] might be the better prepar'd for the Toad in the Compariſon.

And Streams of Fire, from his red Eye-balls flow'd,
Like Light'ning, breaking from a low'ring Cloud:
As when a Toad, ſquat on a Border, ſpies
The Gard'ner paſſing by, his Bloodſhot Eyes,
With Spite, and Rage inflam'd, dart Fire around
The verdant Walks, and on the flow'ry Ground,
The bloated Vermin loathſome Poiſon ſpits,
And ſwoln, and burſting with his Hatred, ſits:
So the fall'n Angel, &c.

FALLEN indeed, if no abler to do Harm to Sir Richard's Hero, than his Toad to the Gardener! Where is the terrible Power, the wily reſtleſs Malice, the inſatiate revengeful Application, of this dangerous Enemy to Mankind, in Sir Richard's humble Simile?

A Toad may be poiſonous, but then he may be trod upon, which is by no Means, the Caſe of the Devil. If a Poet, who introduces Satan, thus inraged, would imagine a Compariſon, to aggrandize the Horror of his Reader's Conception, it muſt certainly ariſe from nothing, which we are to look down upon; no little, venomous, inconſiderable Creature; The Elements ſhould War together, on ſuch Occaſions, as theſe; the Skies ſhould blaze with Lightning; the World reel with Earthquakes; the Sea riſe to Heaven; the Poles crack with Thunder; and [394] all Nature groan, with Variety of Convulſions.—Toad, Poiſon, Squat, Bloated, Spits, Vermin, Loathſome, Swoln, Burſting! What Image can ariſe from ſuch Expreſſions as theſe, which is either like, or agreeable?

TO ſay Truth, no Simile at all ſhould have been introduced in the Place I have been complaining againſt: The natural Conception of a Reader, can repreſent to his Fancy the Idea of the Devil, looking angry from a Mountain, much better, than any common Image, of Things known, can repreſent it to his Memory. A Compariſon is never to be made, but where the Object to be deſcribed is leſs known, or leſs conceivable, than ſomething elſe, which, being of equal Grandeur and Importance, will alſo illuſtrate, and rivet it on the Underſtanding.

THE Deſcriptions, and Similes, which we meet with in Milton, give us quite other Ideas of this dreadful Rebel-Angel.

Scarce had he ceas'd, when the ſuperior Fiend
Was moving tow'rd the Shore; his pondrous Shield
Behind him caſt, the broad Circumference
Hung on his Shoulders, like the Moon, &c.—
His Spear, to equal which, the talleſt Pine,
Hewn on Norwegian Hills, to be the Maſt
Of ſome great Admiral, were but a Wand
He walk'd with, to ſupport uneaſy Steps
Over the burning Marl.

[395]Again,

Forth came in Order the infernal Peers,
'Midſt them their mighty Paramount, who ſeem'd
Alone, th' Antagoniſt of Heaven! nor leſs
Than Hell's dread Emperor! with Pomp ſupreme,
And Godlike, imitated State, Him round,
A Globe of fiery Seraphim incloſed.

And again,

Satan, above the Reſt,
In Shape, and Geſture, proudly eminent!
Stood, like a Tower; nor yet his Form appear'd
Leſs, than Arch-Angel ruin'd; and th' Exceſs
Of Glory obſcur'd; As when the Sun new-ris'n,
Shorn of his Beams, looks thro' the miſty Air.
Deep Scars of Thunder had intrenc'd his Face;
Care, on his faded Cheeks ſat, under Brows
Of dauntleſs Courage, and conſiderate Pride.

HAVING named Mr. Milton, I am well enough aware, That Sir Richard may endeavour a Juſtification from that great Poet's Example; who has made Uſe, in another Place, of this very Simile of a Toad, when he alſo is deſcribing Satan; but, pray, obſerve with what Difference, as well in the Occaſion, as the Conduct.

SATAN, after having changed himſelf into many different Shapes, to avoid a Diſcovery, by thoſe Angelick Guards, which were [396] plac'd about Paradiſe, is met with, at laſt, by one of the Parties.

So ſaying, on he led his radiant Files,
Dazling the Moon; Theſe to the Bower direct,
In Search of whom they ſought. Him there they found,
Squat, like a Toad, cloſe at the Ear of Eve.

BESIDES his Neceſſity of providing againſt Diſcovery, (of which he was in no Danger in Sir Richard's Poem) he takes the Shape of a Toad, as moſt proper, while Eve was aſleep, to approach her cloſely, concealed among the Flowers, and ſweet Herbs, on which ſhe lay.

Aſſaying, by his Deviliſh Art, to reach
The Organs of her Fancy; there to forge
Illuſions, as he liſts.—

OBSERVE here, that the Devil is in no Rage, when thus compared; but, on the contrary, under much Terror, and endeavouring to deceive and circumvent, and therefore obliged in Policy, to aſſume that Form, which was rather ſuitable to his End, than anſwerable to his Power. But, when he appears in his proper Likeneſs, the very Angels are repreſented, as terrified, and ſtarting back, with Amazement.

[397]
Him, thus intent, Ithuriel, with his Spear,
Touch'd lightly, for no Falſehood can endure
Touch of Celeſtial Temper, but returns
Perforce to its own Likeneſs—Up he ſtarts,
Diſcover'd, and ſurpriz'd! As when a Spark
Lights on a nitrous Heap, the ſmutty Grain,
With ſudden Blaze diffus'd, inflames the Air:
So ſtarted up, in his own Shape, the Fiend;
Back ſtept the Two fair Angels, half amaz'd,
So ſudden, to behold the griſly King.

NOTHING of this is little, nothing diminiſhing: The whole is natural, terrible, majeſtick, ſurprizing, and becoming the Dignity of the Subject, it relates to.

A Simile, ſhould, if poſſible, be alike, in all its Parts; It is enough, that ſome one Quality of the Compariſon reſemble ſome one Part, or Nature of the Object it is compared to.—Homer has been infinitely guilty of this Error; hurried, as it were, away with the Rapidity of his Imagination, he ſeldom ſtaid to weigh any more of a Simile, than that very Part of it, which ſuited his Purpoſe; not mindful enough, that upon ſtarting an Object, to which many Qualities are common, the Apprehenſion of the Reader, is not, perhaps, at Leiſure to examine which particular Quality includes the Reſemblance, and therefore diſcerns not any Likeneſs at all, but with ſuch Trouble, and Application, as totally deſtroy the very End of a Simile. For if the [398] Deſign of this Ornament be to illuſtrate a Deſcription, it ought not certainly to be found obſcure in itſelf.

THERE is, in the noble Greek Poet abovementioned, a famous Compariſon of Ajax, who retreats ſlow, from an overpowering Crowd of Trojans; to an Aſs in an Encloſure, ſurrounded and beaten by the Sticks of the Village, but walking gravely, notwithſtanding, toward the Gap, he came in at, and ſtopping very frequently, to eat, in his Way: Monſieur Dacier, Boſſu, and all the French Criticks, who are not Converts to Monſieur Perault's Obſervations, have taken a great deal of Pains to juſtify this Simile of Homer's; But, in my Opinion, they are all miſtaken, not only in the Defence, but in the very Accuſation: It is not ſo much the Aſs, that deſerves Blame, ſince he was in thoſe Days a Beaſt of Great Quality: It is rather, that the Reſemblance is partial, where it ought to have been total.—The ſtiff, reluctant, Receding of Ajax from his Enemies, is certainly well hit, in the Obſtinacy of the Aſs; but where is that Part of the Compariſon, which ſhould enliven to our Imaginations, his frequent Return to Slaughter? His Impatience of Soul? That Fierceneſs, Indignation, and revengeful Intrepidity, which the Poet's Deſcription had alſo prepared us to expect in his Simile? The Aſs, without doubt, was loth to depart, as Ajax, but he was neither ſo apt to be angry, nor ſo dangerous, if he became ſo.

[399]COMPARISONS, to conclude this Reflection, can never be proper in Paſſions, or violent Emotions of Mind; The Imagination is then too much tranſported, and inflamed, to caſt about for cool Reſemblances. But in the Mouth of the Poet, that is to ſay, in the Courſe of the Narration, and not in the Speeches, they are beautiful, and neceſſary. They deſcribe Paſſion well, though they do not expreſs it: And, to ſay all in a Word, Where Deſcription alone appears too weak to imprint an Idea on the Mind of a Reader, there the only effectual Remedy is to have Recourſe to a Simile.

The Plain Dealer. No 105
MONDAY, March 22. 1725.

—Eſt mollis flamma medullas
Interea, & tacitum vivit ſub pectore Vulnus.
VIRG.

SINCE Love, which, in both Sexes, is the moſt irreſiſtable of our Paſſions, has its ſtrongeſt Influence on Woman; I cou'd never obſerve That Cruelty and malicious Savageneſs of Jealouſy, which actuates the Ladies, againſt thoſe whom they conſider as [400] their Rivals, without inwardly lamenting the Weakneſs of their Minds; who had rather be lovely, than happy; and while they torment their pretty Hearts with a Thouſand Alarms, and Suſpicions, never take it into their Heads to diſcover, That they hate the Object of their Reſentment, for only thinking, and loving as They do; and that what they are purſuing with Revenge, ought, rather, to be met, with Compaſſion.

BUT the Honour of the Sex's Reaſon, Generoſity, and Moderation, ſeems to be redeem'd, in this Particular, by the noble Spirits of Two Ladies, from One of which I have had the Pleaſure to receive a Letter, ſo intirely new, and writ with ſo much natural Force, and Sweetneſs, that it is impoſſible the Reader ſhou'd not feel the ſame Effect from it, that I did.—I ſuppreſs, for the ſake of Modeſty, and not without ſome Reluctance, and Mortification to my Vanity, an introductory Paragraph, fill'd with the moſt obliging, and gentile, Praiſes of the PLAIN DEALER; and haſten, at once, into the Subject of the Letter.

I AM led, (obſerves this charming Correſpondent) to imagine Friendſhip the Favourite Paſſion of your Soul, becauſe your Sentiments ſeem finely turn'd for it.—Mine too, as far as its inferior Faculties permit, is truly ſenſible of, and devoted to it.—But I never felt it ſo forcibly, as I [401] did the other Day, in a Viſit, which I made to a young Lady, a dear and intimate Friend, in the Country.

SHE retir'd from me, not long ſince, to indulge a ſilent Grief, which I, and every Body, had taken Notice of, but which ſhe had endeavour'd to conceal from her Acquaintance, with a Care, as earneſt, as it was vain. For her Eyes, and alter'd Complexion, made it evident to all, who loved her, and therefore delighted to look on her, that there was ſomething at her Heart, too melancholy for Solitude, and yet too engag'd for Society.

THE Privilege of our Intimacy introduced me to her Chamber, without Notice, or Ceremony; where I found her, writing, and alone.—The Subject, which her Thoughts were fill'd with, had fixed her in ſo profound an Attention, that it gave me Freedom and Opportunity, to ſtand a while, and obſerve the beautiful Diſtreſs of her Mind, which was loſt and labour'd in a meaning Sadneſs, and prevented her from ſeeing, or ſuppoſing, that there was any Body ſo near her.

NEVER was Sorrow ſo Majeſtical! ſo ſweetly Noble!—Her lively Features were ſoften'd into a Languiſhment, that was lovelier, than Health, and more charming, than Tranſport!—Her Eyes ſeem'd to have conſpir'd, againſt the Purpoſe of her Hands: For they ſtream'd down Tears upon the [402] Paper, as if they would efface the mournful Words, as faſt as ſhe had written them. And, now and then, a Sigh, (ſuch as Love alone inſpires) ſwell'd her conſcious, and diſtracted, Boſom.

AT laſt, ſhe ſaw me, and trembled!—She roſe, in Confuſion, and came forward, to embrace me, which while ſhe was doing, ſhe preſs'd into my Boſom, the Paper, ſhe had been writing: And, with a violent Burſt of Tears, breaking ſuddenly from my Neck, flew, down a Pair of Back-Stairs, into the Garden; and left me Speechleſs, with Aſtoniſhment!

I FOUND the Paper addreſs'd to me: And I leave you to imagine, whether my Surprize was at all abated, when I perus'd in it, the following Diſcovery of the ungueſs'd Cauſe of my dear Friend's Retirement.

OH! my ever-lov'd!—my faithful Friend!—my Heart is flowing to you, with ſuch Shame, and confeſſing Penitence, as they who are ſerene enough to enjoy the Comforts of Devotion, addreſs all-pitying Heaven with.—My Miſery is ſo truly great, that nothing but the Sin of having conceal'd a Thought from you, cou'd have given it the leaſt Addition.

BUT, let me haſten to impart, to you, the only Grief, I cou'd have had a Reaſon for hiding from you—I love—Oh! how [403] ſhall my Confuſion preſerve Strength to go on? while I add—That it is—Your Husband!—Let His Perfection plead for me, if you ſtart at this Declaration.—And, oh! confeſs, what you have experienc'd, ſo undeniably,—That none cou'd have ſeen him, as I have, without being as guilty, as I am.

I WAS dull enough to imagine, That Friendſhip having poſſeſs'd my Heart, wou'd have guarded it, againſt Love: But, oh! That Thought has loſt me!

IT was the fatal Happineſs of being near you, that diſcover'd to me the Beauties of his Mind,—His reſpectful Tenderneſs, for You: His impartial, and diſtinguiſhing Affection for his Children!—His Contempt of the Proud, and Ignoble; And his Compaſſion for the Friendleſs, and Unhappy!—Oh! how fatally is He accompliſh'd!—and how deſerving your Affection!

CONCEAL from him, oh, my Friend! the Knowledge, that He has made me wretched: For, yet, my Eyes, and my Actions have been ſo watchfully guarded, that He is as much a Stranger to it, as all the World, but Yourſelf; from whom to have conceal'd it, appear'd to me as Criminal, as not to have conceal'd it from your Husband.

THIS, only, dreadful, Cauſe ſhou'd have torn me from your lov'd Society.—Suffer me, here, to bury myſelf, in the Innocence of Solitude; till Abſence, or Death, ſhall [404] have put an End to the Tyranny, with which Love has triumph'd over me.

I KNOW you are too generous to expect, on this ſad Occaſion, any dull, or mean, Excuſes.—Where the Will is not guilty, the Misfortune is ſufficient Atonement. But, tho' you have no Pretence for Pardoning, I flatter myſelf, you will weep for me; and, in Pity, now and then, ſee your ever faithful, unhappy, Friend, &c.

I leave Her noble Letter, and the Influence it had, on my Soul, to your beautiful Imagination, Mr. PLAIN DEALER, who may convert it to the Uſe, and Pleaſure, of your Readers.—Truth itſelf takes new Graces from your Pen: And even Trifles become of Importance, when you adapt 'em to your Purpoſes.—Do me the Honour of your Advice, on ſo tender an Occaſion. And, when I hear how I ought to have acted, you ſhall know, in a ſecond Letter, how I really did act; and its Conſequences.—I am, with all Duty, (for, methinks, there is a Kind of filial Reverence, due to ſuch a PLAIN DEALER as you are)

SIR,
Your moſt Obedient, Humble Servant, ANGELETTA.

[405]I CONFESS, there is ſomething, ſo peculiarly refined! ſo great minded! and ſo generous! in both theſe Ladies, that I am loſt, in Admiration.—All that I am able to ſay, under my preſent Amazement, is, That the Man muſt be infinitely Happy, who is ſo belov'd, by Two, ſuch, Lovers!—He will become the Envy of my Readers; and, I am afraid, He is mine, already.—When I hear of ſuch Women as Theſe, I own, I wiſh my ſelf Young again—There is a juſtifiable Delight in the Admiration of Beauty, thus glorify'd!—Theſe are the delicate Spirits, that adorn, and ennoble, Hiſtory. The Vertues of ſuch Charmers will flow down and extend their Conqueſts over the Hearts of unborn Poſterity.

LET Virgil, if he pleaſes, boaſt of his PENTHESILEA's, and CAMILLA's: and Taſſo of his CLORINDA's—For my Part, I am no Admirer of thoſe martial Ladies, who have led Armies; and, inſtead of increaſing, unpeopled Kingdoms.—Let me adore the Female Greatneſs, that can triumph over Nature; deſpiſe the Motives of Self-Love and Vanity; and ſmile at the Aſſaults of Malice, Ingratitude, or Jealouſy; Faults, which, ſometimes, are to be met with, in the ſofteſt, and faireſt Boſoms!

I SHALL devote a future Paper to Reflection on theſe generous Friends:—I am, now, interrupted, by a Letter, of ſo different a Turn, that what moſt vexes me concernining [406] it, is, That This too, was writ, by a Woman.

To the PLANE DEELAUR.

SUR,

I MUST infoorm you, I am juſt mared to a Husband as will not let me dow as I us'd, and as I will dow, in ſpite of his Noze.—I wud have him to no, as I guvern'd a Famuly, befour this illnater'd Man com'd croſs me; Both Servants, Mother, and Father.—Bot thare was alwaſe more adow with won Fool, than with many. So, I deſier, to no, if thare is not ſum way to be parted! For He is not only Obſtinacious, but a Papiſh beſides, and a Non-jewrer; and caant indoor KING GEORGE, in his Hert, thof He has ſwar'd to be trew to the Guvarnmont.—We kepe a Shop, not ſur from Poles.—Prai wright ſome Advies to

Your unfartunent Sarvant, SHUTTLECOCK FLUTTER-WING.

THE Orthography of this Lady is admirable!—I recommend to her immature Underſtanding, the Study of Modeſty, and Silence, which, I hope, will offend no Party.—I cannot but deplore the little Care, which our Marriage Adventurers ſeem to take, of their Happineſs. They are ready enough, in [407] their ſhorter Journies, to inquire, what Company? and wou'd chuſe Solitude, rather than Bad.—What bold Man is there, who has Courage enough to travel with an Ape: Or a Nurſe, with three or four Children, loaded with Bells, Rattles, Drums, Bird-Calls, and ſqueaking Trumpets!—Yet, all Theſe are Muſick, when compar'd with the Voice of Mrs. Flutter-wing.

I WOU'D not accompany her, one Mile, of the Stage of Life, for all the Gugaws in her Shop.—Tho' I am thought to be Old, for a Batchelor, I have the utmoſt Honour for the Ladies: But, I hope, This cannot be call'd one.—I am ſo angry with her, that I can write no more!

The Plain Dealer. No 106.
FRIDAY, March 26. 1725.

—Dei quantum inſtar in illo!—
VIDA.

THE CZAR of RUSSIA is dead!—I tell it not, as News; but I ſpeak it, with Aſtoniſhment!—The greateſt Spirit, that ever glorified, and exalted humane [408] Nature, has ſtept out of Time into Eternity: And yet the World looks ſtill the ſame! The Sun ſhines not paler!—The Seaſon advances and blooms out, with its uſual Regularity! And every Thing (above and below) wears the very Face, which it was us'd to wear, before the Death of This, almoſt adorable Monarch, ſeem'd to call for a Night of univerſal Sadneſs, upon the Luſtre of Created Glory!

ALAS! how inconſiderable a Wretch am I, then!—What imports it, how a Million of us, common Thinkers, live! or where, or when, we die!—Since this Godlike Eſtabliſher, and Adorner, of Empire, can have left Nature as unconcern'd for him, as he found her: And the World, which ſeem'd to tremble, under the Weight of his living Preſſure, bears no Changes in her Form or Motion, to diſtinguiſh ſuch a Death as His was!

WHAT a mortifying Check upon the Extravagance of humane Ambition, is the Shortneſs of that Life, which muſt give Limits to our nobleſt Purpoſes!—We are ſure to expire, by the natural Courſe of our Days, before the Event of any vaſt Undertaking can have taught us, to what End we labour'd.—While we mediate the Superſtructure, we ſink, and die, upon the Foundation: And leave Poſterity the Licenſe of ſuppoſing, examining, and deciding upon, our Schemes and Actions, with a Latitude, which, could it be foreknown, would curb the Sallies of great Minds, [409] and teach Heroick Virtue to be aſham'd of a Reward, ſo precarious, as Fame; and ſo dependant on the Diſpoſition of Souls, too narrow to take in Purpoſes, where Events are left imperfect.

HOW infinite had been the Progreſs of this prodigious Prince's Glory, could He have looked forward on ſuch a Length of Life, as was allotted to the Ancient Patriarchs!—But, in this, as in all Objects of Reflection, it is eaſy for us to trace the Wiſdom of Almighty Power, that proportions Bleſſings to Neceſſities: And neither grants, nor withholds, in vain; but adapts, whatever is, to that which ough to be.—In the early Ages of the World, when Arts and Qualities, were yet unknown, there was a viſible Neceſſity, that Men ſhould live, thoſe many Hundred Years, which, now, we think of, with Amazement; becauſe their Ignorance requir'd a frequent Return of Obſervation; and Connexions of re-iterated Experience, to eſtabliſh even the Rudiments of all that Variety of Knowledge, which ſerved their Poſterity as Scaffolding, to ſtand upon; and, ſo (by lifting them, at once, the whole Height, which themſelves had climb'd to) made their Buſineſs in Life ſo much leſs, that Life requir'd to be, proportionably, ſhorter.

BUT, be this as it will, the moſt ſparkling Ornament of Mortality, is now become immortal!—The Soul of PETER the GREAT, perhaps aſſociates and compares itſelf with [410] Thoſe of CAESAR, and of ALEXANDER!—There is Scope enough, upon the Shoreleſs Ocean of Eternity, for all its Sails to ſpread themſelves; and make new Way for Ever, into Knowledge and Diſcovery!—This Earth (however large a Part of it, He honoured with His Influence) reſtrain'd, impriſon'd and held ſhort, his Genius:—He ſeem'd to ſtruggle, like a cloſe cag'd Eagle, for Enlargement more proportioned to the Vaſtneſs of his Qualities.—He was, truly GOD's VICEGERENT, and irradiated the Human Nature, with ſuch lively Beamings of the Divine, that, as He obey'd, He reſembled, the Deity!—He could not, indeed, create Men; But he new-moulded, and inſpir'd them.

DETACH'D, and ſingle Attributes of Virtues, which met, full and perfect, in the Ruſſian Monarch's Character, have eterniz'd the Memory of Ancient Heroes; and ſwell'd Hiſtory with their Praiſes:—The Invention of New Arts, The Eſtabliſhment of New Laws, The Adornment, or Enrichment, of their Country; The reducing Barbariſm, into civiliz'd Society: The Encouragement of Learning, The Puniſhment of Oppreſſion; The Deliverance of their own Country, or, The Conqueſt of others:—Each of theſe, ſeperately, has been thought ſufficient in all Ages, to make, and immortalize, a HERO.—What Name, then ſhall the grateful World invent, and beſtow, to diſtinguiſh the Poſſeſſor of more than all theſe Virtues, united!

[411]LET us conſider him, diſtinctly and impartially, in the varied Lights of His Patience, His Application, His Wiſdom, His Juſtice, His Generoſity, His aſpiring Magnanimity, and the intrepid Firmneſs of His invincible Reſolution!—In every one of theſe Views, we ſhall ſee him equal with the nobleſt Spirits of Antiquity: And, in ſome of them, ſuperior to all, who have been call'd Great, before him.

WHAT he has done, can either, never be equall'd, or, equall'd only by what he has ſuffer'd!—To look back upon the Beginning of a Life of continued Wonders! What Dangers, Reproaches, Rebellions, and Ingratitude, did He not meet with at home? And (abroad) what Inſults, Contempt and Mortifycation?—Yet, ſuch was the ſtedfaſt Patience and Moderation, of his Nature, that inſtead of being inflam'd by His Pride, into raſh and ſudden Reſentment, He was only ſtimulated by His Reaſon, into a generous Determination, to make himſelf too dreadful for Scorn; and become the Protector of His Deſpiſers.—That arrogant Contempt, which was ſhewn (by the late King of Sweden's Permiſſion) to the Czar, when he paſs'd by Riga, in the Beginning of his meaning Travels! let it be weigh'd againſt the God-like Forgiveneſs, Generoſity, and noble Compaſſion, with which this very Czar interpos'd, afterwards, (and even to the Check of his own Victories) prevented the impending Ruin of that King of Sweden's Hoſtile Country!—Let One of theſe Conſiderations, [412] I ſay, be weigh'd againſt the other; and then, point out any Example, from Hiſtory, of ſo amiable a Greatneſs! ſo ſincere, and ſweet, a Magnanimity!

LET His Application be meaſured by the Succeſs of His unwearied Labours!—They, who look into Ruſſia, as it now is, and remember what it was, within Twenty Years paſt, will ſcarce believe themſeves free from the Influence of ſome Enchantment, when they ſee Cities of Sixty thouſand Houſes, covering the Shoar, where (ſo lately) a few Fiſhermen dried their Nets!—When they behold a Sea filled with His Ships of War, whom they can remember, when He was not Maſter of One ſingle Harbour!—When they ſee Nature reduc'd by Art, to yield Occaſions, ſhe was moſt repugnant to!—Diſtant Seas taught to incorporate! Mountains forc'd to give Way to Rivers! New Engines, and Arts of War, as well offenſive, as defenſive!—New Cuſtoms! New Trades! New Souls! And a Face of univerſal Knowledge and Politeneſs, ſmiling in all Parts of a Land, which was ſo lately over-run with the darkeſt Ignorance, and Barbarity!—And, when they ſhall be told, That all theſe aſtoniſhing Changes, are the mere Effects of One Man's prodigious, and unbounded, Mind, what leſs can they ſay, in Anſwer, than, That ſuch a Man had been a God, could His Body have been rendered, but as immortal, as His Fame is?

[413]WAS there an Oppreſſor, in Europe, whom His Reſolution did not mortify? or an injur'd, or afflicted, Prince, whom His Generoſity did not pity? The Wings of His aſpiring Eagle, ſhadow'd both Extreams of the Chriſtian World: And the Turks look'd, with Horror, on the Vengeance, which they ſaw ſo near them.—And, in this only Particular, I am ſorry to obſerve, that the Author of the NORTHEN STAR, was leſs a Prophet, than he imagin'd.—Death intercepted the glorious Race, when the Goal was juſt in View, and left the GREEKS not, yet, ſo happy, as that Writer had foretold them.

Grecia's loſt Fame ſhall be reſtor'd, by Thee;
O Monarch!—born, to ſet an EMPIRE free!
'Twill be—Prophetick reece re-hopes Her own:
And hails her Caeſar, on the Ruſſian Throne.
ATHENS again ſhall teach—CORINTH aſpire:
And THEBAN Breaſts glow with rekindling Fire!
Once more, Byzantium, deſtin'd, long, to ſhine,
Shall rear the ruin'd Name of CONSTANTINE.

BUT, that I may make the Author of the Poem ſome Atonement for the falſe Prophecy I have charg'd him with, in the above-cited Verſes, I acknowledge, that he was more truly a Prophet, in the Czar's Attempt upon Perſia, by Way of the Caſpian Sea:—As alſo in the preſent Deſign of Diſcovering the North-Eaſt Paſſage: Nothing of which had been heard of, 'till long after that Poem was [414] written: The Firſt Edition of which, was publiſh'd in the Year 1716.

The Virgin Caſpian this bold Lover woo's,
Nor vainly, for her envied Favour ſues:
In Secret, won, ſhe has her Love confeſs'd,
And giv'n him Leave to wander o'er her Breaſt.
Perſia's heap'd Wealth ſhall her vaſt Portion be;
And Eaſtern Kings, ſhall give her Lord the Knee.
Zembla's hige Cliffs,—Eternal Hoards of Froſt!
Where proud Diſcovery has, ſo oft, been loſt,
Thro' all the Ages of the World, 'till now,
Have check'd the Keels, which would thoſe Oceans plow:
Reſerv'd by Fate, and for Thy Reign deſign'd,
Thy piercing Eye, ſhall the wiſh'd Paſſage find;
Or, to the Weſtern World, the Eaſtern join,
And ſee the Profit, and the Glory, THINE!

I perceive, by the Advertiſements, that a Third Edition of this POEM is about to be publiſhed. It is needleſs, therefore, to quote more of it, to the Purpoſe mentioned: But I will take the Liberty, however, of concluding my Paper with the End of it, becauſe it ſpeaks, but what I mean, when I meditate the Praiſe of that great Monarch, whom I have the Honour to be writing of.

Thou! Ruſſian Star! That mak'ſt the Pole out ſhine
The torrid Brightneſs of the Burning Line!
Drawn by thy beamy Worth, I, ſtill, would gaze,
But my Eyes ake, beneath th' oppreſſive Blaze.
[415]Deſcend, raſh Muſe, from the bold Theme retire;
Thy Fall were dang'rous, if thy Flight were higher.
Forbear, Great Prince! nor with ſuch Swiftneſs, BLESS,
Shook by our Fears, we wiſh Thy Glory leſs:
Leſt Heav'n ſhould ſcarce Thy now mourn'd Abſence bear,
When Earth yields no new Labour, worth Thy Care.
Hard the Deciſion, Which moſt Glory won,
Thy Actions? or the Speed, with which they're done?
When Rome, that glitt'ring, that immortal Name!
Aſpir'd to Rule, and panted after Fame;
Age, copying Age, ſtrove, with progreſſive Will,
To puſh the ſame Deſign, with equal Skill;
And, when Eight Hundred lab'ring Years were paſt,
The late propitious Fortune ſmil'd, at laſt.—
Not ſuch ſlow Riſe, O Prince! Thy Ruſſia fears;
Thou ſeeſt not Glory, through ſuch Depth of Years!
At once reſolv'd, at once the Columns riſe,
Which lift Thy dreadful Fabrick, to the Skies!
Forms and Degrees, let Earth-born Spirits need,
Thy Soul, excentric, moves with inbred Speed:
Makes Nature ſhake;—and raiſes, in a Day,
What, with leſs Eaſe, in Ages ſhall decay!
So, when young Time, in Chains, Exiſtence kept,
And huddled Nature, in dark Chaos, ſlept;
Th' Eternal Word, to ſet Diſtinction free,
But ſpoke th' Almighty Fiat—LET THERE BE!
Millions of Ways, the ſtarting Atoms flew:
Like clung to Like; and ſudden Order grew.
Struggling in Clouds, a while, Confuſion lay;
Then dy'd, at once—and loſt it ſelf in Day:

The Plain Dealer. No 107.
MONDAY, March 29. 1725.

[416]
Multa gemens, magno (que) animum labefactus amore.
VIRG.

To the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

THERE are none of your Eſſays, which more intitle you to my Eſteem, than thoſe, which you have been inſpir'd with, by the moſt generous, and gentle, Paſſion, that acts on, and adorns Humanity.—I need not tell you, after this, that the Paſſion, I mean, is LOVE.—You have eonfeſs'd yourſelf a Lover; and, if you had not, I ſhould have gueſs'd it, by the Warmth, and Spirit, of your Sentiments, when you attempt any thing, on that Subject.—A Warmth, and Spirit, Mr. PLAIN DEALER, which agree ſo ill, with your Grand Climacterick, that (if it were not for the implicite Reverence, with which I conclude myſelf miſtaken, when you aſſert, what I find difficult to believe) I ſhould ſuppoſe your Age, as chimerical, [417] as your Situation; and no more look for you, among the Old, than upon the Watch-Tower of Barbican.

BUT, let that paſs: No matter, whether you are Old, or no, ſince I will admit, that you are Venerable.—I reverence you, for that Reverence, with which you ſpeak of Love, and the Ladies. The light World, Mr. PLAIN DEALER, have no Taſte for the refined Ideas, which almoſt deify this ſacred Paſſion. But, let me periſh, if I would exchange the Enjoyment of my Miſtreſs's Soul, for the moſt unbounded Property, in her angelick Body. The Bleſſing is fulleſt, I confeſs, when both theſe go together: But the Firſt, without the Laſt, can give me Tenderneſs, Endearment, and the Delight of ſweet Reflection; whereas the Laſt, without the Firſt, would (in ſpite of all its Tranſports) carry with it an unſatisfying, and reluctant, Void of Thought, which would rob it, of its fineſt Reliſh: For who would dare to think, at all, when (if he thinks) he muſt be ſenſible, that he is receiving, from an unconſenting Heart, the laſt, and deareſt, Obligation, which can ſpring from Love, and Gratitude?

THE Cold, and Grave, perhaps, may think, That there is Levity in Loving, to ſuch ſweet Exceſs, as I do: I, too, once, thought, as they think!—But Time, and the remember'd Converſe of a Woman, ſofter, than the Firſt Idea's of her [418] Sex's Innocence! and wiſer, and more ſolid, than their laſt Reflections, when they leave a World that flatter'd them! have taught me, that there is no Joy on Earth, ſo real, and ſo laſting, as the Union of a Soul, ſo charm'd, as mine is, with the Soul, that has ſo charm'd it!—Abſence, Mr. PLAIN DEALER, and a Thouſand Obſtacles, I dare not name, have interpoſed their cruel Influence: And I have, almoſt, Cauſe to fear, my Tenderneſs, and Conſtancy, are doubted, even by the lovely Object of them: And, yet, I never paſs a Moment, which takes not its Pain, or Pleaſure, chiefly, from the Part, Her ever-preſent Image bears, in the Occaſion. The Memory of Her dear Intereſt in me, gives Spirit to my Hope, Mitigation to my Sorrow, and Moderation to my Anger. If I fear, it is for Her: And, if I wiſh, it is to make her happy.—She alleviates all my Cares; and, yet, ſhe quickens, and increaſes them! She is my Buſineſs, when I have Leiſure, and my Leiſure, when I am in the midſt of Buſineſs. She is the Paradox, and Riddle, of my Life! I have the Misfortune to live, abſent from her, yet is ſhe never out of my Company! I am not—muſt not—cannot be Her's; and yet, am only Her's, for Ever!

I REMEMBER, when, I had the Bleſſing of ſeeing her oft'ner, I once painted my Soul's full Meaning, in the following Copy of Verſes to her, or ſomething, not much [419] unlike them.—Be ſo good, as to inſert them; ſhe, ſometimes, ſees your Paper, and they may awaken the Remembrance of a Paſſion, ſhe, perhaps, relaxes from.—I hope, Her Soul does Juſtice to the Impreſſion which mine glows with: But, let Her Thoughts of Me, be kind, or leſs partial, than they have been, I muſt never expect the Power, which, I am ſure, I ſhall never wiſh for, of redeeming myſelf from that ſweet Captivity, in which Her Image holds the Heart of,

SIR,
Her faithful Lover, And Your Servant, CONSTANTIUS.
To the Lovely BELLADORA.
SWEET Enſlaver! can you tell,
E'er I learnt to love, ſo well,
How my wiſhleſs Hours could move,
All unbuſied, by my Love?
'Tis Amazement, now, to me,
What could, then, a Pleaſure be!
But, ſince You ſmil'd, new Senſe to give,
From that ſweet Hour, I feel, I live.
[420]
OH! what Fires his Boſom warm,
Whom Soul, and Body, join, to charm!
Endleſs Tranſports, dance along,
Nobly ſoft! or ſweetly ſtrong!
Flaming Fancy, cool Reflection;
Fierce Deſire, and aw'd Subjection:
Aking Hope;—and Fear increaſing;
Struggling Paſſions, never ceaſing:
Wiſhing, trembling, Soul adoring;
Ever-bleſt, and ſtill imploring!
TELL the Cold, the Dull, the Tame,
(Who theſe dear Diſorders blame)
Tell 'em, That in Honour's Race,
Charm'd by ſome ſuch Heav'nly Face,
Lovers, ſtill, the foremoſt, ran:
Love's a Second Soul to Man!
EASE is languid, low, and baſe;
Love excites an active Chace:
Glory, Wealth, Ambition, Wit;
Thoughts' for boundleſs Empire fit!
All, at Love's Approach, are fir'd;
Ever bent, and never tir'd.
He, who feels not Love's ſweet Pain,
Lives at Eaſe—but lives, in vain.
LITTLE dream you, what is due,
Angel Form! to Love, and You!
'Tis from You, I Joy poſſeſs;
'Tis by You, my Grief grows leſs.
[421]Sadly penſive, when, alone,
I the Shades of Life bemoan;
If ſome Voice, your Name impart,
Care lies lighten'd at my Heart:
Ev'ry Woe diſarms its Sting;
And ev'ry ſtarting Hope takes Wing!
WHEN my Fancy brings to View,
Works, which Wealth, or Power, could do;
All my ſpurr'd Excitements wake;
And Fortune charms me, for your Sake:
Oh! I cry, 'twere Heav'n poſſeſs'd,
To make her Great, who makes me Bleſs'd!
IN the Morning, when I riſe,
If the Sunſhine ſtrikes my Eyes;
All, that pleaſes, in its View,
Is my Hope, 'twill ſhew me YOU.
WHEN the ſable Sweep of Night,
Drowns Diſtinction from my Sight,
I no inward Darkneſs find;
You are Day-light, to my Mind.
ALL my Dreams, are Lives of Joy,
Which, in waking, I deſtroy:
You, a Slave to Cuſtom made,
Are of empty Forms afraid;
But your happier Image, free
From fantaſtick Tyranny,
Independent, kind, and wiſe,
Shuns Reſtraint, and knows no Ties.
Oh! the dear, delightful, Pain!
Who, that ſleeps, thus, would wake again?

[422]IT is lucky, for this pleaſant Spark, that his Poetry is more agreeable to me, than his Purpoſe;—An extraordinary Uſe, truly, he has found out, to put the Gravity of the PLAIN DEALER to! If it were, not ſome Comfort, that he appears to think, like a modeſt Lover, I ſhould have been out of all Patience, to have had my Sobriety ſo artfully made a ſtalking Horſe to the amorous Plots of theſe young Fellows, and their Sweethearts, who tell one another their Minds, under Pretence of writing to the PLAIN DEALER! But, as it is, I forgive the Stratagem, merely for the ſake of the Poetry; which, I own, I am pleas'd with, becauſe it is natural, and ſeems to have flow'd from the Heart, which is a warmer Inſpirer, than Helicon.

The Plain Dealer. No 108.
FRIDAY, April 2. 1725.

[423]
Juſtum & Tenacem propoſiti Virum.—
HOR.

DESIGNING to be grave to Day, on the ſober Subject of RESOLUTION, I will bribe my Reader's Attention, to a Diſcourſe, leſs gay, than uſeful, by telling them a ſhort Story, in the very Front of my Paper.

SALADIN, the Soldan of Aegypt, tho' he had Dominions enough, of his own, was always ready, when Occaſion offered, to make free with other People's.—At his Return without Succeſs, from the Siege of Moſoul, in Syria, he ſeized into his Hands the whole Lordſhip of Emeſſa, in Prejudice to the Right of Naſir Eddin, the young Prince, who claimed it. And this he did, upon Pretence, That the late Father of the Youth had forfeited, by giving Countenance to Conſederacies againſt the Soldan's Intereſt.

SALADIN, however, ordered, That proper Care ſhould be taken, of the injur'd Prince's Education: and being deſirous to obſerve, [424] what Progreſs he made in his Studies, he was brought, one Day, before the Soldan; who asked him, with much Gravity, In what Part of the Alcoran he was Reading?—I am come, reply'd the young Prince (to the Surprize of all, who were near him) to that Verſe, which informs me, That He who devours the Eſtates of ORPHANS, is not a King, but a Tyrant.

THE Soldan was much ſtartled at the Turn, and Spirit, of his Repartee; but, after ſome Pauſe, and Recollection, return'd the Youth this generous Anſwer.—He, who ſpeaks, with ſuch Reſolution, would act with ſo much Courage, that I reſtore you to your Father's Poſſeſſions, leſt I ſhould be thought to ſtand in Fear of a Virtue, which I only reverence.

SUCH an Influence has Firmneſs, even in Words, and Appearance! But, when reduced into Practice, it is productive of innumerable Benefits: So that, were I to be asked by a Man of Senſe, Which would be his ſhorteſt Road, to Felicity; My Anſwer ſhould be, The Path, which leads thro' Conſtancy and Reſolution: No other Road, but this! and no other Guide, than Conſcience, can carry him through his Journey, and bring him ſafe to the End he aims at.

RESOLUTION in Life, is like Action in Oratory; as Demoſthenes deſcribed it: It is the Firſt, Second, and Third Thing neceſſary. The Soul is endowed with Three powerful Faculties; [425] the Underſtanding, the Memory, and the Will; but, with regard to moral Life, they all Three lie dead, without the Help of Reſolution. Reſolution is their Parent, their Midwife, and their Nurſe. It firſt impregnates them with Activity; then delivers them in their Labours; and nouriſhes the Effects of thoſe Labours with Perſeverance. What imports it, to know either the Good or the Proper, if we forget or over-look that Knowledge? Or, to what End do we remember, what is Great, and Heroick in others, if Reſolution does not conform our Will to co-operate with our Underſtanding!

RESOLUTION therefore is the ſpiritual Union of the Mind's beſt Faculties: and may, not improperly, be called the Soul of the very Soul itſelf.—It exerciſes the Underſtanding into Meditation; Meditation gives Life to Memory; and reduces Good Will into Habit; and Habitual Good Will inſpires the Memory and Underſtanding to break beautifully forth, into a Series of good Actions.

FOR this Reaſon I have often reflected, that we ſtand more in Need of being reminded, than of being taught; and that, whoever would lead Men to be good, that is, to be happy; ſhould rather inſpire them with Reſolution to do what they know to be right, than to learn, what it is to do rightly. Moral Arguments ſhould be chiefly applied to the Memory, and are Incentives to the Will, rather than Aids to the Underſtanding.

[426]THIS is evident, methinks, from the following Conſiderations; Wiſdom, as it regards practical Life, is no more than a Faculty of diſcerning what is Good, from what is Evil; what is to be embraced, and what rejected.—Now if the wiſeſt Man upon Earth, by the Dint only of Reſolution, could bring himſelf to practiſe, what a Man of the moſt moderate Faculties comprehends and diſtinguiſhes, he would indeed, be a wiſe Man, according to the genuine Signification. But, as the World goes, were we ſtrictly to meaſure the Capacities, even of the Wiſeſt, by their Actions, we ſhould be mortified into a Neceſſity of conſidering this vaſt Globe, but as a Stage full of buſy Fools, with ſcarce a ſteady Purpoſe among them. And, however the Philoſophers may have declared a Vacuum an Abſurdity in Nature; we ſhould, plainly, diſcover one, in Senſe, among the Agents of the intellectual World: We muſt therefore conclude, That the Fault lies not in the Underſtanding, but the Will; nor proceeds from Want of Knowledge, but Deficiency of Firmneſs, and Reſolution. Mr. DRYDEN, ſpeaking of Men in their thinking and contemplative Faculty, ſays ſomewhere, to the Praiſe of the meaneſt Writers, That he never read any Argument ſo indifferently handled, out of which a wiſe Man might not gather ſomething that was valuable: And Cardinal RICHLIEU, has obſerv'd, concerning active and political Life, That he knew many, to [427] whom the Direction of great Kingdoms might be happily committed in the Morning, whom, yet, in the Afternoon, he would ſcarce truſt with the Adminiſtration of his Hen-rooſt.

A LITTLE common Thief knows he ſhould not commit Injuſtice; and underſtands well enough, when he commits it—but, wanting Reſolution to be publickly needy, rather than privately diſhoneſt, he deviates from the real Good; and ventures upon the appearing.—How often has the Judge acted the Felon upon the Bench, and robb'd before their Faces, who accuſe Robbers at his Tribunal! He dares commit the very Crime which he is ſeated there, to condemn; But he wants Reſolution to deſpiſe the Bribe, though he has not the Felon's Neceſſity to plead in Excuſe of it: The poor Thief in this Caſe, as ſilly as he looks at the Bar, ſtands in Need of no Inſtructor. But the Judge himſelf, as wiſe as he appears, in his Furs, wants a Remembrancer at his Elbow, to put him in Mind of his Duty.

COMMON Gameſters, know ſo well the Ignominy of giving falſe Judgment, at a publick Hazard-Table, that they have generally Reſolution enough to reſiſt very great ſecret Temptations that Way; and have ſeldom been found guilty, though Cuſtom, and not Conſcience, is the Motive of their Forbearance. But, how little Hiſtory need we read, to know, That we have had Diſpenſers of Equity, who have been in the utmoſt Neceſſity of Plain-dealing Monitors, not indeed to [428] inſtruct them; but to put them in Mind, that Equity was not Iniquity.—We all of us know, but few, or none of us think.—We diſtinguiſh not the Things that lie before us, through the Miſtineſs of Avarice, or any other intervening Paſſion. It cannot be ſaid, that we are unable to ſee: But that we ſee without Diſcernment.—The Underſtanding has Eyes, but Irreſolution has jaundic'd them.

HOW does Ambition reduce and miſlead thoſe, whom we call wiſe Men, into aukward Condeſcenſions, which make them cheap in the very Eyes of the Vulgar? How often have we ſeen Pride, and Inſolence aſſume the Flexure of the ſneaking Candidate, in order to ſtrut immediately after, in the Abuſe of intruſted Office? The Farce of DOCTOR FAUSTUS has been repreſented as light, and ridiculous, becauſe, its Plot is no more, than that, while the Conjurer enjoys his Wand, he enjoys his Wiſhes: That Wand converts every Thing into the Accompliſhment of his Purpoſes: But no ſooner is his Term, of holding that White Staff, expired; than the Conjuration expires with it; and he is the pooreſt, weakeſt, moſt deſpairing, and moſt abandon'd Wretch alive. This, every Spectator ſees through, and laughs at; and yet, how happy might it have been for ſome other Wand-holders, of this Kingdom, if that poor Farce had been acted before them, inſtead of their duller State Interludes, in order to ſerve as a uſeful Memorial, that they ſhould not miſuſe [429] thoſe Wands like FAUSTUS; that is, play Tricks, till their Time is out, and then be delivered up to the Devil.

AS little Men become great by Reſolution, and great Men degenerate into little ones without it; ſo Admonitions, to thoſe Duties, which every little Man knows, are neceſſary notwithſtanding, to the Wiſeſt; Of this ALEXANDER's Father, PHILIP, demonſtrated himſelf very ſenſible; That Prince's Servant, knew, no doubt, as well as his Maſter, that a King was no more than a Man: But PHILIP, mindful, that high Fortune had often made light Heads forget themſelves, commanded this Servant to wake him every Morning, by this well-known Leſſon in his Ear;—Remember thou art but a Man.—Now, many would be apt to imagine, that little Profit could ariſe from ſuch conſtant Repetition of this ſhort and needleſs Intimation: Yet Sir FRANCIS BACON, who knew well both the great World and the little, has left us the following Axiom concerning it: ‘"All (monitorial) Precepts concerning Kings, are, in Effect, comprehended in theſe Two Remembrances;—Remember thou art a Man;—Remember thou art GOD's Vicegerent. The one bridleth their Power, the other their Will."’—In Truth, if ALEXANDER had affected to be no more than he was, the Son of PHILIP, inſtead of aſpiring to Divinity and the Title of AMMON; he would have more than conquer'd the World; for he would have conquered the very Conqueror of it.

[430]RESOLUTION then, is the only Means to make a Man compleatly happy; and frequent Admonition ſerves to keep Reſolution alive. The Loweſt can ſcarce ſtand in Need of a moral Inſtruction; but the Higheſt may be greatly indebted for Admonition; and conſequently, all young Men, who propoſe to make any Figure in publick Employments, ſhould give Ear, to a Plain Dealer, who dares put them in Mind of their Weakneſs.—A Man who has Firmneſs enough to ſee the Worſt of his own Soul, will ſoon have the Satisfaction to find the Proſpect much better'd. He will learn Patience in ill Fortune, and Abſtinence in good; He will be fortified with Reſolution, to be humble, juſt, and charitable, amidſt the ſtrongeſt Inflations, and Indulgements of Proſperity: and diſdain to be found envious, dejected, or revengeful, amidſt the bittereſt Reſentments, and Sollicitations of Calamity. Such a Man ſhall not only preſerve an inward Tranquility; but, whatever the Colour of his Fortune may be, he will owe a Luſtre to Himſelf, and caſt it round him upon Others. He will not only be followed, but beloved in his Proſperity; and in his Adverſity he will be lamented.

The Plain Dealer. No 109.
MONDAY, April 5. 1725.

[431]
Glaucumque, Medontaque, Therſilochumque.
VIRG.

To the PLAIN-DEALER.

SIR,

IT is with no ſmall Expectation, that I obſerve you, in ſome of your Papers, making Excurſions into the Province of Criticiſm: It is a Subject, not only Entertaining, but Inſtructive: And there is no kind of Knowledge, in which thoſe gay Spirits, who are loudeſt, and moſt ready, in giving Judgment, are ſo contemptibly and lamentably Deficient, as in the Art of Judging rightly.

TWO Improvements might be hop'd for, in the Taſte of moſt Readers, from a more general Propagation of the Knowledge of diſtinguiſhing clearly: We ſhould neither be aſhamed to praiſe the Merit of the Obſcureſt [432] reſt of our Cotemporaries; nor afraid to cenſure the Errors of the moſt Popular among ancient Writers.

HOMER's famous Catalogue, of Grecian Ships, and their Commanders, would, then, I am apt to believe, ceaſe to paſs for one of his Sublimeſt, and moſt Poetical Beauties. Its Geographieal Exactneſs would no longer be pleaded as a Ballance, againſt the Dryneſs, and Tediouſneſs, of its Hiſtorical Enumeration: Since it is no Part of a Poet's Buſineſs, to teach the Situation, Bounds, and Quality, of Countries. Little, occaſional Deſcriptions of that kind, 'tis true, may ſometimes, be neceſſary; and, being artfully introduced, and handled, might not only diverſify a Poem; but alſo render it delightful: Without which laſt Quality, the whole Labour is loſt. And nothing, certainly, can delight, that is tireſom, and heavy.

BUT the Bigotry of a Succeſſion of unpoetical Commentators, Men of Learning, without Genius; has heap'd upon this Catalogue, ſuch profuſe and ill-judg'd Encomium, that the whole Herd of Imitators, from the Taſſo's of Italy, down to the Blackmore's of Britain, have lengthen'd out their hoſtile Muſter-Rolls, to the Terror and Provocation, even of the moſt patient of their gentle Readers. And ſome of theſe have been fortunate enough to meet with Applauſe, more extravagant, even than Homer's: [433] For they have been compar'd with and preferr'd to Homer's. Witneſs Ben Johnſon's commendatory Viſion, printed before the old Edition of DRAYTON's Battle of Agincourt.

There, Thou art Homer,—Pray thee uſe the Style
Thou haſt deſerv'd; and let me read, the while,
Thy CATALOUE of SHIPS, cxceeding his!

THE Catalogue, here meant, is of thoſe Ships, which tranſported the Engliſh Forces, in our Henry the Fifth's firſt Attempt upon France.—I will entertain the Reader with this (ſo highly applauded) Catalogue; becauſe it may deſerve to ſtand, as a Proof, what poor Products we are to expect, from a ſervile and implicite Imitation.

And, firſt, Seven Ships, from Rocheſter, are ſent,
The Bonadventure, George, and the Expence;
Antilope, Henry, Elephant, Defence:
Bottoms, as good, as ever ſpread a Clue!
All having Charge, their Voyge having been,
Before Southampton, to take Soldiers in.
Twelve Merchant Ships, of mighty Burthen all,
New, off the Stocks, that had been rigg'd for Stoad,
Riding in Thames, by Limehouſe, and Black-wall,
That ready were, their Merchandize to load.
Eight goodly Ships from Briſtol, ready made,
With Spaniſh Wine, which they for Ballaſt lade;
And, as theſe Eight the Severn Sea do ſtem,
Five more, from Padſtow, came along with them.
[434]From Plymouth next, came in the Blazing-Star,
And Fiery Dragon, to take in their Fraught,
With other Four, eſpecial Men of War,
That in the Bay of Portugal had fought:
The Hare of Loo, a right good Ship, well known,
That twice, the Year before, the Streights had paſt;
Two wealthy Spaniſh Merchants did her own,
Who, then, but newly had repair'd her waſte:
And, from Mount's-Bay, Six more, that ſtill in Sight.
Waited with her before the Iſle of Wight.
Nine Ships, for the Nobility, there went
Of able Men, the Enterprize to aid;
Northumberland, and Weſtmoreland, in ſent
Fourſcore at Arms apiece, and themſelves laid
At Sixſcore Archers each; as Suffolk ſhows
Twenty tall Men at Arms, and Forty Bows.
Darcy, and Camois, zealous for the King,
Lovel, Fitzwater, Willoughby, and Roſs,
Berkly, Powis, Burrel, faſt together cling,
Seymour, and St. John, for the Buſineſs cloſe,
Each Twenty Horſe, and Forty Foot do bring,
More, to Nine hundred, 'mounting in the Groſs,
In thoſe Nine Ships; and fitly them beſtow'd,
With which the other fall into the Road.
From Holland, Zealand, and from Flanders, won
By weekly Pay, Threeſcore Twelve Bottoms came,
From Fifty upward, to Five Hundred Tun,
For every Ʋſe, a Mariner could name:
Their glitt'ring Flags, againſt the radiant Sun,
Show'd, as if all the Sea had been on Flame;
Then Skiffs, Crays, Scallops, and the like, why theſe,
From every ſmall Creek, cover'd all the Seas.

[435] THIS, though a bald, and unlovely Imitation of Homer, is better I think, in one Senſe, than the Original, by ſo much, as it is ſhorter; for no Man of Reaſon will be perſwaded to believe, that in a Poem of this kind, ſuch a tedious, and dry Liſt of a Fleet, though it preſerves a particular Piece of Antiquity (which is the Commentators weak Defence for Homer) can ſtand agreeably in the Place of Invention, Spirit, Fancy, and the Energy of Poetry.

SUCH a barren, and diſtinct Enumeration gives a weariſom Satiety to the Mind, and drags too hard on the Attention. When I read, for ſo many Leaves together, not what Perſons do, but who they are, and whence they came; without any of that enlivening Variety of Circumſtance, or Deſcription, which ſhould relieve the Imagination, it puts me in Mind of our Anceſtors ſimple Epitaphs: Honeſt People! who thought it Merit enough to have lived, married, and got Children, without loading their Tomb-ſtones with the Weight of their Actions!

Of Wiliam Wilſon, Joan his Wife,
And Alice, their Daughter dear,
Theſe Lines be left, to give Report,
Thoſe Three lie burid here;
And Alice was Henry Deacon's Wife,
Which Henry lives on Earth;
[436]And is the Serjeant-Plummer unto Queen Elizabeth.
With whom our Alice left Iſſue here,
Her virtuous Daughter Joan,
To be his Comfort, every-where,
Now joyful Alice is gone.

And again,

Here the good Lady Margaret North
In Tomb doth quiet lie;
Of Husbands Four the able Spouſe,
Whoſe Fame ſhall never die:
One Andrew Frances was the Firſt;
The Second Robert hight,
Surnamed Chartſey, Alderman;
Sir David Brook, a Knight:
But then comes he, that paſſed all,
And was, in Number, Fourth,
One, for his Virtue, made a Lord,
And call'd Sir Edward North.

AMONG all theſe copious Particularities, there is nothing, that deſerv'd the telling, if we except the great Rarity, that comes in the Rear; A Man made a Lord for his Virtue! That, indeed muſt be own'd to have been a Wonder worth recording: It was conſider'd too, it ſeems, as an Accident ſo unuſual, that the good Man appears, by the laſt Verſe, to have been aſhamed of his Singularity; and rather choſe to ſtick faſt to his old knightly Title of Sir Edward, than [437] be pointed at, as he paſſed the Streets, for a kind of Miracle. But here follows ſomething, which no Poet's Liſt among them all, can compare with, for Exactneſs.

This Life hath on Earth no certain While,
Example by John, Mary, and Oliver Stile;
Who, under this Stone, lieth buried in the Duſt,
And putteth you in Memory, that all die muſt.
John Stile, born 1582, the 22d of May;
Died 1583, June the 25th Day:
The 5th of October 1583, Mary Stile born was:
Auguſt the 5th 1585, out of this Life ſhe did paſs.
Oliver Stile the 25th of February 1584, this mortal Life begun,
And ended the ſame Auguſt the 9th 1585, his Courſe being then run.

NOW, Sir, bating, as is neceſſary, for the Difference between the Verſes, a Man is apt to conclude, That a Poet, too prolix in the Liſts, I have been ſpeaking of, has as little to ſay for the Actions of the greateſt Part of his Captains, as theſe very exact Epitaphs, for the Oliver's, Alice's, Joan's, and Andrew's, who occaſioned them.

I am, SIR, Your Conſtant Reader, And Humble Servant, &c.

The Plain Dealer. No. 110.
FRIDAY, April 9. 1725.

[438]
Nos populo damus.—
SEN.

To the Author of the PLAIN-DEALER.

Oh Dear! Mr. PLAIN DEALER,

MANY a Lady has been charm'd into a Paſſion for her future Lover, upon Sight only of his Picture: But my Fate is the very Reverſe of This; For, before I ſaw the Picture of my Florello, I was almoſt in Love with the Original: Whereas, now, I am fallen abſolutely in Love with the Picture, and can ſcarce bear the Sight of That odious Lover of mine, who ſat for it.

THE Picture, you muſt know, is a Kind of Paradox: For it is drawn but in Black, and White; and yet glows, with the livelieſt Force; and moſt natural Mixture of ſtrong Colouring! It is One, of a valuable Collection, which was expos'd to Publick Sale laſt Week; under Title of The UNIVERSAL [439] PASSION, Part II.—Wou'd to Heaven I knew the Painter! A Hand, ſo exquiſite at Touching, ſhould take me, as often as I cou'd poſſibly ſit to him. Nay, I wou'd ſooner be drawn by Him, than by Apelles, or Titian, or Lilly, or Vandike; or by any Pencil ancient, or modern; except that only, to which we owe ſo many envy-raiſing Pictures of my Friend Mrs. Arabella Farmor.

NOT but there is infinite Difference, between the Two Pieces; and the Lines, indeed, are ſtrikingly diſtinguiſh'd, in both:—In the Lady's, They are ſweet, ſoft, delicate! In my Florello's, They are ſtrong, bold, glaring! Florello's very Life is not half ſo lively, as this fine Painter's ſpeaking Repreſentation of it.—See! the Figure, and the Spirit! the Grace! and Paſſion, of the Picture!

OF late, at White's, was young Florello ſeen,
How blank his Look! how diſcompos'd his Mien!
(In Grief Sincere, ſo hard it proves to feign!)
Sunk were his Spirits! for his Coat was plain.
NEXT Day, his Breaſt regain'd its wonted Peace,
His Health was mended with a Silver Lace!
A curious Artiſt, long inur'd to Toils,
Of gentler ſort, with Combs, and fragrant Oils,
Whether by Chance, or by ſome God inſpir'd,
So touch'd his Curls, his mighty Soul was fir'd!
[440]The well-ſwoln Tyes an equal Homage claim,
And either Shoulder has its Share, of Fame.
His ſumptuous Watch-Caſe, tho' conceal'd it lies,
Like a good Conſcience, ſolid Joys ſupplies.
He only thinks himſelf (ſo far from vain!
St—pe in Wit, in Breeding, D—l—ne.
Whene'er by ſeeming Chance, he throws his Eye,
On Mirrors, fluſhing with his Tyrian Dye,
With how ſublime a Tranſport leaps his Heart?
But Fate ordains, that deareſt Friends muſt part.
In active Meaſures, brought from France he wheels;
And triumphs, conſcious of his learned Heels!

TO deal plainly with the PLAIN DEALER, juſt after I had been reading this mortifying Deſcription of the Man, whom I had been weak enough to feel ſome little Tenderneſs for, His Evil Genius danc'd in with him; and I bluſh'd, to my very Forehead, to reflect, that I ſhou'd owe to the lively Painting of a Satire, my firſt Diſcovery, that the Florello, who had been ſo intimately my Acquaintance, was the Reverſe of a Fine Gentleman!

PRAY publiſh This Extraordinary Cure, in Juſtice to the Skill, and Reputation, of the Learned Doctor, who effected it: And aſſiſt, thereby, the good Wiſhes, and the Gratitude of,

Dear Mr. PLAIN DEALER,
Your unknown, humble Servant, CLARASTELLA.
[441]
Mr. PLAIN-DEALER,

AS You are a Gentleman of Penetration, and capable of rendring every Thing that is offer'd to You in a brighter Capacity than I am, (which occurr'd to me, upon reading your Paper of Friday, March the 12th, in Relation to PUGG's Complaint, againſt that Feathery Fool, called a PARROT, in a Houſe that is juſt over againſt him) I I deſire, that in your next, you would only give Caution to a certain Lady, whoſe Lodgings are oppoſite to mine, That ſhe does not indulge PUGG, as I have ſeen her, in all that provoking and unmerited Freedom, of pawing her upon the Mouth and Boſom. Fleſh, and Blood, Mr. PLAIN DEALER, is not able to bear it; and if we muſt not caſt the Food of Man to Dogs, I am ſure it is much leſs lawful to beſtow His Right upon an ugly Monkey.—In ſhort, I am out of all manner of Patience; and if this Lady will not be ſo kind as to keep my Rival out of my Sight, I muſt be forc'd to brick up my Windows, or remove to a new Lodging: For I wou'd not, methinks, be ſo unreaſonable, as to quarrel with PUGG Himſelf about it: Since, He looks (to confeſs the Truth) as if He was born to be the Lady's Favourite.

I am, SIR, Your afflicted Reader, P. A.
[442]
SIR,

YOU will much oblige one of your conſtant Readers, and very great Admirers; if you will but anſwer me this Quere, viz. In your Excellent PLAIN DEALER, of Auguſt the 24th, 1724, No 45, treating of Love, wherein is contain'd, part of that lovely POEM on the ſame Subject, I find theſe Lines;

Abſent from Her, in whom alone we live,
Life grows a Bankrupt, and no Bliſs can give:
Friends are IMPORTUNATE, and Pleaſures loſt, &c.

NOW all the Queſtion is, Whether that is not a Miſtake of the Printer's; putting Importunate for Impertinent? or, Whether I, in Juſtice to you, for giving this Trouble, ſhou'd not write myſelf,

Want-of-WIT?

TO a Lover, who retires to Solitude, for a quiet, and uninterrupted, Indulgment of his Paſſion, the very Civilities, and good Offices, of Friendſhip, are unwelcome; and the Preſſure of them is Importunately troubleſome; and this was doubtleſs the Senſe, in which the Author of that Poem made uſe of the Word Importunate.—Impertinent had been leſs applicable, as well as leſs elegant; becauſe it is the Duty of a [443] Friend to be ſolicitous in adviſing, and comforting us, however uneaſy he makes us, by the Effect of his diſreliſh'd Intention. So that my Correſpondent, will name himſelf more juſtly, if, in the next Letter he favours me with, he changes his Subſcription from Want-of-WIT, only to Want-of-ATTENTION.

To the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

I HAVE perceived, quite through the Courſe of your Papers, that your Tendency, is not only to Delight your Readers; but to Inform, and Refine them. Upon this Conſideration, I muſt perſuade myſelf, you will ſet the following Subject in the ſtrongeſt Light; which, the more effectually to recommend it to you, I aſſure you it is not fictitious, but real Matter of Fact.—There is a certain Widow, who has two Sons, and two Daughters, the former of which, are arrived to the State, which writes them Men, both brought up to creditable Employments; but neither of them capable of proceeding in their Buſineſs, without her Aſſiſtance; which, tho' very able to give, ſhe refuſes them.

YOU will be more than a little ſurprized, when I tell you, there is a Perſon, beyond Deſcription, ruſtical, and unlovely, who [444] makes his aukward Addreſſes to the Wealth of this Widow: And that this is the Conſideration which ſhe prefers to the Welfare of her Children, who have urg'd her, on their Knees, to regard, not only Their Good, but what the World will ſay of herſelf.—Deaf to all their Interceſſions, ſhe continually repulſes them, and is unalterably determined, on her own and their Ruin.

NOW, I would beg of you, to tell me, What Motive can induce her to this? And to account for it in a Phyſical Manner? Should not the moving Wants and Dependance of her own Children, prevail more upon her Nature, than the intereſted Addreſſes of a Stranger? For I am afraid, there are no Incentives to Love, on either Side, and I am loth to give it its other Name. If, Sir, you inſert this as ſoon as you can in your Paper, you may do a real Good, and at the ſame Time you will oblige one of your conſtanr Readers.

I am, SIR, &c.

MY good Friend, Tony Jyngle, whom I have not ſeen till lately, ſince the Death of Sir Portly Rufus, of which I gave my Readers the melancholy Hiſtory, in one of my former Papers; was juſt come to viſit me, as I had received this Letter, from the Publiſher: And, upon hearing it read, told me, with much Force of Politeneſs, and Penetration, [445] That there were certain Politick Reaſons, againſt accounting in a Phyſical Manner, for the Motive, which induces this unmanageable Widow: But he was of Opinion, it might do as as well, if I accounted for it Poetically: And, to that end, he favour'd me, within, Fifteen Minutes, and a Half quarter, with the following Copy of Verſes, which he intitles,

WOMAN'S RESOLUTION.
OH!—cry'd Arſenia, long in Wedlock bleſt,
Her Head reclining on her Husband's Breaſt;
"Shou'd Death divide thee from thy doating Wife,
"What Comfort cou'd be found, in widow'd Life?
"How the Thought ſhakes me!—Heav'n my Strephon ſave,
"Or give the loſt Arſenia half his Grave!
JOVE heard the lovely Mourner, and approv'd:
"And ſhou'd not Wives like this, (ſaid he) be lov'd?
"Take the ſoft Sorrower at her Word; and try
"How deeply rooted Woman's Vows can lie?
'Twas ſaid, and done—the tender Strephon dy'd;
Arſenia, Two long Months—t' outlive him try'd:
But, in the Third—alas!—became a BRIDE.

The Plain Dealer. No 111
MONDAY, April 12. 1725.

[446]
—Jovis omnia Plena—
VIRG.

To the Author of the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

THE aſtoniſhing Structure, the immenſe, but beautiful, Extent, and Order of Creation, demand, not the Notice only, but, the Veneration of every reaſonable Being. No leſs than infinite Wiſdom could conceive the Plan; nor leſs than Almighty Power erect the Fabrick! Our Sight is ſtruck with Amazement, when we look but upon a ſtately Building, the mere Effect of Human Invention; And, yet, (to the Shame of our Stupidity be it ſpoken) we can conſider the Earth, we live on, with Indifference;—we can walk under the Lamps of Heaven, without being inlightened by the ſmalleſt Glimmering of Divine Reflection! nor (to many) do they argue any [447] thing greater than Chance, which, in other Words, is Nothing.

YET, certainly, no Knowledge can be ſo delightful, to the Soul, as This, which is, at the ſame Time, the nobleſt, and moſt uſeful, that can buſy us, in our ſhort Pilgrimage through the Body. Nay, The excellent Mr. Ray has very pleaſingly imagined, that it may be Part of our Buſineſs and Employment, to all Eternity, to diſcover ſtill, deeper and deeper, into the unfathomable Works of God; and contemplate the Glory of his Wiſdom, Power, and Goodneſs.

I AM ſenſible, You concur with me, that the Honour due to God, ſhould excite the nobleſt of our Thoughts, and Actions; becauſe You have endeavour'd to make our Lives, in their good Purpoſes, and their Luſtre, reſemble the Coeleſtial Bodies; and move, for their own, and for other's Benefit. And ſince you have not refuſed to exert your Genius toward refining, inlarging, and advancing, our Ideas of Divine Greatneſs: So, doubtleſs, you will oblige your Readers, in the Sequel of this Letter, with a Trace of Reflections, for which we are indebted to the Author of that excellent Diſcourſe, The Religion of Nature Delineated.

I am, SIR, Your Humble Servant, PHILOTHEUS.
[448]

WHAT a vaſt Field for Contemplation is opened in thoſe Regions of Matter, about us, in which there is not the leaſt Particle, but carries with it an Argument of God's Exiſtence; not the ſmalleſt Trifle but ſhews it; nor the ſlighteſt Motion produced, the ſofteſt Whiſper of the Air, but tells it.—The Frame and Conſtitution of the World, the aſtoniſhing Magnificence of it, the various Kinds of Beings, and the Conſtancy obſerved in the Productions of Things, and the Uſes for which they are produc'd, do all ſhew, that there is ſome Almighty Deſigner at the Top of all theſe Things: Such Marks they bear of his Power, and Wiſdom.

IN order to prove, to any Doubter, the the Grandeur of this Fabrick, we need only bid him conſider the Sun, with that inſupportable Glory that ſurrounds it: The vaſt Diſtance, Magnitude, and Heat of it! The Planets periodically moving in their ſeveral Orbits, about it, with all their Regular Variety of Aſpects, guarded, ſome of them, by ſecondary Planets, and, as it were, emulating the State of the Sun; and, probably, all Theſe, poſſeſs'd by diſtinct and proper Inhabitants!—Let him think of thoſe ſurprizing Viſits the Comets make us; the large Trains of uncommon Splendor, which attend them; the far Country they [445] come from, and the Curioſity and Horror they excite, not only among us, but in the Inhabitants of the Worlds about us; who alſo may be up, as we are, to ſee the Entry, and Progreſs, of theſe new Miniſters of the Almighty:—Let him direct his Eye and Contemplation, through thoſe azure Regions above him, up to the fixed Stars, that radiant, and numberleſs Hoſt of Heaven; and reflect but, how unlikely it is, that they ſhould be placed there, only to adorn, and beſpangle, our Canopy! He will, then, inſtruct himſelf, that they are ſo many other SUNS, with their ſeveral Regions, and and dependant Planets, about them! He will further diſcern, by the Help of Glaſſes, ſtill more and more of theſe fixed Lights, and exalt himſelf to an Apprehenſion of their unaccountable Numbers, and of the Immenſity of thoſe Spaces, that lie retired beyond, not our Ken only, but even our Imagination.

Here, on light Fancy's ſaily Wings, I riſe,
Aw'd, and confounded, thro' deep Wilds of Air!
Millions of op'ning Wonders ſtrike my Eyes;
And Reaſon's finite View is dazzled there!
Globes, behind Globes, un-number'd, hence appear.
The twinkling Stars, that from dim Earth, remote,
Seem heav'n-ſet Gems, and ſcatter'd Seeds of Day;
Here, (Buoyant Worlds!) midſt Seas of Aether flote,
And, o'er blue Kingdoms, hold a fiery Sway.
[448] [...] [445] [...]
[446]In diſtant Orbits, round each reigning Star,
Huge Earths, and Moons, their cirly Homage pay:
Millions of countleſs Miles are loſt between,
And ſick'ning Thought grows tir'd, to ſtretch ſo far!
How brightly vaſt each concave Sphere is ſeen!
Th' enormous Vaults, with wheeling Worlds glow round;
Rolling oblique, yet none their Paths confound:
Their croſſing Currents cauſe no claſhing Jars;
Nor one the other's Progreſs bars.
Wide round their central Suns their Tours they make;
Yet no proud Planet dares his Line forſake:
Partial, an intercepted Ray to break.
They take, and lend, by Turns, the ſtreaming Light;
And form, in ſolemn Silence, Day, and Night.

WE need only conſider theſe Things, which are now known almoſt to every Body; and, by them, we ſhall be taught, that a Structure, ſo infinite, muſt be the Work of an infinite Architect.—But, if we could take a particular View of all that aſtoniſhing Compaſs, which we have thus haſtily run over, how would Wonders multiply upon us? Every Part of every World, is, as it were, made up of other Worlds. If we examine This our Earth, what Scope is here for Admiration?—What Variety of Mountains, Hills, Valleys, Plains, Rivers, Seas, Trees, Plants! What numberleſs Tribes of different Animals is it ſtock'd with! How unwearied are the Inventions, and Works of one of theſe; which is MAN! And yet, when they are [447] all ſurvey'd, as nicely as they can be, whether by our unaſſiſted Senſes, or the Help of Teleſcopical Glaſſes; the Aſſiſtance of Microſcopes, in the ſmalleſt Parts of Matter, will go on to diſcover as many new Wonders, as thoſe which have already been made known to us. New Kingdoms of Animals; new Architecture, and Curioſity of Workmanſhip, and Oeconomy. So that as, before, our Conception fainted, in thoſe boundleſs Journeys we were obliged to take through the expanſive Vaſtneſs of the Univerſe; here, on the other Hand, we tire ourſelves with fruitleſs Reſearches into the Principles and conſtituent Parts of it. Both the Beginnings and the End of Things, the Leaſt and the Greateſt, all conſpire to perplex us: And which every way we proſecute our Inquiries, we ſtill fall in with freſh Subjects of Amazement, and freſh Reaſons to believe, that there are more and more behind, that will for ever eſcape our eagereſt and moſt ſucceſsful Penetration. We have Philoſophy, indeed, but, the Misfortune is, it dwells but in the Surface of Nature.—

IT appears, then, plainly enough, in the Parts and Model of the World, that there is a Contrivance, and a Reſpect to certain Reaſons, and Ends. Why elſe is the Sun poſited near the Middle of our Syſtem; but for the more convenient diſpenſing of his Influence to the Planets, [448] moving about him? Why elſe does the Plan of the Earth's Aequator, interſect that of her Orbit, and make a proper Angle with it, but in order to diverſify the Year, and create a uſeful Variety of Seaſons. Many other Things of this kind, tho' a thouſand Times repeated, will be always delightful Obſervations to good Men and true Scholars: None of whom can obſerve thoſe Vapours which aſcend from the Sea, to meet in Clouds above, and fall back again, after Condenſation, without underſtanding the Purpoſe of this providential Diſtillation to be a Diviſion of the Water from its groſſer Salts, that, by Rains, and Dews, it may return upon and ſupply the Fountains, and refreſhing Rivers, nouriſhing the Vegetables by Showers, which therefore deſcend not in Cataracts, but kindly Drops, as from a Waterpot, upon a Garden!

WHO can view the Structure of a Plant or an Animal; the indefinite Number of their Fibres, and fine Veſſels, their Dependance upon larger, and the ſeveral Members upon them, and the apt Diſpoſition of all theſe; the Proviſion that is made for Reception and Diſtribution of Nouriſhment; the Effect of this Nouriſhment, in Extenſion of the Veſſels, ſtretching the Vegetable, or Animal, gradually, to its full and determinate Growth; maintaining the Motion of the ſeveral Fluids, repairing the [449] Decays of the Body; and comforting and preſerving Life? Who can take Notice of the various Faculties of Animals, their Arts of ſaving, and providing for themſelves, or the Means by which they are provided for; the Uſes of Plants to Animals, and of ſome Animals to others, and of the Generality of them to Mankind; the Propagation of the ſeveral Species out of their proper Seeds (without Confuſion!) the ſtrong Inclinations implanted for that Purpoſe; and the Tenderneſs, even of the Fierceſt to their Young: Who, I ſay, can view all this, and not confeſs a Deſign, and an omnipotent Deſigner? The meaneſt Inſect, which ſcarce appears, at all, to our naked Eye, will, when viewed through a Microſcope, preſent a Proſpect, a Thouſand Times more curious, and ſurprizing, than the fineſt Piece of Mechaniſm, that ever was made by Man! For my own Part, as I cannot but acknowledge, that I am fearfully, and wonderfully formed; I likewiſe believe, as firmly, that ſome ſuperintendent Hand hath conducted and protected me, from my Birth, to this preſent Moment; or that, in the Words of the moſt Sacred of all Writings.—There is a God, in whom I live, move, and have my Being.

WHO, then, that judges of this God, by his Works and his Mercy, will be afraid of that Death, which muſt bring us one Stage nearer him? Nay, who knows, but [450] that what we call DEATH, may be our real, and proper, LIFE, and this, which we think our Life, a kind of dark, and dreaming, Interval, which Death only comes to awaken, and redeem us from? For my Part, I look forward on the Hour of my Diſſolution, with the Hope, and Expectation, of eſcaping Mariners, who having been ſinking all Night long, in a Rudderleſs, and Foundring Veſſel, diſcover, with the Dawn of the Morning, the opening Coaſt of ſome lovely, though unknown Country! I ſupport Life, as my Duty, rather than enjoy it, as my Wiſh: And will borrow another Stanza, from the ſame Poem, whence I took that above to expreſs the Sentiments I feel in my ſelf, after ſuch a Trace of ſerious Reflections, as thoſe which compoſe this Paper.

But murmur not, proud Heart! if here delay'd,
A wandring Pilgrim, through this Life's cold Shade,
I muſt not yet, in Heaven's wide Search rejoyce:
O! be the Will of God, not mine, obey'd!
Wait, my impatient Soul, His wiſer Choice:
Truſt the ſtrong Hand, by which thoſe Worlds were made;
And to His Pleaſure tune thy willing Voice.
If I not yet ſhake off this earthly Load,
Sure there is Buſineſs, worth my Life's beſt Aim;
And he who tires, tho' on a length'ning Road,
Is faintly Soul'd, nor Inn's, at laſt, in Fame.
[451]For me, ſuffice it, to have taught my Muſe,
The tuneful Triflings of our Tribe to ſhun;
And rais'd her Warmth, ſuch heavenly Themes to chuſe,
As, in paſt Ages, Her beſt Garlands, won.
He who, beyond the Power of Man cou'd WRITE,
Wou'd, ſtill, fall ſhort of Him, who ACTED well:
To flow in Sound, or turn a Period right,
Is but in Fairy Towers of Praiſe to dwell.
But Wrongs to PARDON, or good Deeds REQUITE
Is, (in ſubſtantial Meaning) to excel,
What, tho' my WISHES ſtrain beyond my POWER,
That ſhou'd but urge my Speed, to reach its GOAL
Whence, on the Wretched I may Comfort ſhower,
And, with eas'd Pity, feaſt my hungry Soul.
Be ACTION, then, henceforth, my Life's wide Sphere;
Oh! there are Things, my Heart even burns to DO:
All has been SAID, that's worth a wiſe Man's Ear;
But much may be PERFORM'D, that's greatly New!

The Plain Dealer. No 112.
FRIDAY, April 16. 1725.

[452]
Quid mentem traxiſſe polo? Quid profuit altum
Erexiſſe caput? Pecudum ſi more pererrant.
CLAUD.

I AM, though a great Lover of Trade, a declar'd Enemy to the Company of Vintners; and profeſs, That my Indignation daily riſes againſt them more and more, in proportion as they daily deviate from their firſt laudable Inſtitution. Taverns were intended, at their primitive Erection, as publick Refectories, where Men, whoſe Buſineſs called them Abroad from their Families, and ſingle Gentlemen, who had no Familes at all, might reſort for a chearful and neceſſary Refreſhment. So that Taverns ſtood in this Town for much the ſame End, as Inns are commodiouſly ſituated up and down the Country: But, by the Uſe they are now converted to, Men are not refreſh'd there, but debauch'd, and taken off from the Purſuit of their Buſineſs.

[453]I WAS led into this Subject, on the Eve of a late drunken Holiday, when, returning Home in a melancholy Diſpoſition, at a later Hour than uſual, I was unexpectedly ſaluted with an unlucky Piece of News, that a Kinſman, who, notwithſtanding all that a famous Predeceſſor of mine had wittily remark'd, in Ridicule of that ſilly Practice, wou'd try to drive to himſelf Home on the Coach-box; when he was ſcarce able to get into the Coach, without the Help of its proper Driver; had, by the Way, got ſo dangerous a Fall, that he was thrown almoſt out of the World: And juſt as I was plung'd into a profound Meditation on this ill Accident, Word was brought me, That Literatus and Urbanus, two Boſom Intimates, having drank together, to Exceſs, the latter loſt his Civility, and the former his Wits, ſo far as to puſh on a Diſpute about a mere Trifle, 'till one of them was killed, and his Friend and Murderer, left behind, to imbitter his ſurviving Days with a Remorſe, which the other's Death was preſerable to.—I was loſt in the ſtartling Thought, how dreadful it muſt be, to drop out of a Temporary into an Eternal Exiſtence, in ſo deplorable, and unprepar'd a State! which brought immediately to my Remembrance, what the old King ſays to Hamlet in the Tragedy.

[454]
Thus was I—
Cut off, ev'n in the Bloſſoms of my Sin,
No Reck'ning made, but ſent to my Account,
With all my Imperfections on my Head.
Oh Horrible! moſt Horrible!

THIS ſenſible and moving Complaint, ſo awfully placed in the Mouth of a Ghoſt, ſtrikes a conſiderate Auditor with Terror, and leaves him warn'd and aſtoniſh'd: But, there is a Scene in a Comedy, call'd The Lying Lovers, That comes more immediately to this Subject, of a Gentleman's Stabbing his Friend in the Fury of his Drunkenneſs; and which, if it had been read or heard with Attention, by Urbanus, would probably have prevented his own becoming a too real Example of this unhappy Truth, That a Man, who in the preſent Moment, is Maſter of the ſtrongeſt Reaſon, Poſſeſſor of the greateſt Honour, and adorn'd with the fineſt Sentiments of Religion, Friendſhip and Humanity, may, in two or three Hours drinking, be puſh'd forward, by the Rage of Wine, to act unheard-of Brutalities, in direct Oppoſition to the Impulſe of all its Virtues. I recommend this uſeful Scene to the Peruſal of thoſe indanger'd Adventurers, who are apt to be quarrelſome in their Cups, and yet dare raſhly addict themſelves to an habitual Intemperance.

[454]THE Fatigue of ſo melancholy a Meditation, caſt me into a diſorder'd kind of Sleep, in which it furniſhed me (as Shakeſpear ſays) with the Stuff of which Dreams are made. My Imagination, working buſily upon the Traces of my waking Thoughts, brought me into the Company of a Hoary and Venerable Matron, whoſe Eyes were ſo piercing bright, that they ſeem'd to have increas'd by Age, their Faculty of Penetration. She told me, That her Name was CAUTION, and bidding me follow her, ſhe conducted me, as the Propheteſs did Aeneas, into one of the Regions of the nether World, where the Shades of all thoſe, who depart this Life, in the Guilt of their Debauches, are doom'd to inhabit.

I FOUND my ſelf, without being able to deſcribe the Method of my ſpeedy Conveyance thither, in a vaſt Place like an Iſland, incompaſs'd with a Moat of Liquid Fire, where different Crowds of People, were under the Torment of being forced to drink, every Moment, till they were deprived of their Senſes, and betrayed into Extravagancies, which never failed to fill their Hearts with Pain and Remorſe, for ſome enormous Tranſgreſſion or other, committed by them when ſo diſorder'd.—Then the Fury that adminiſter'd the Liquor, had a Power of recovering them, by repreſenting their paſt Actions, in a Glaſs, that ſerv'd them inſtead of Memory.—When they had ſuffer'd the full [456] Pangs of Sobriety, and pain'd their Obſervation with what they might have been, and what they were; the Fury drench'd them afreſh, with the Intoxicating Tide of Torture; and this was the Repetition of a Life, whoſe Circle compos'd a Round of Miſery, that never was to know an End. Each Crowd was thus attended, by ſome Deputy of infernal Vengeance,

THE firſt, I took Notice of, was a Company of Gentlemen, who, before they began to drink, were of robuſt Make of Body; they had Sanguine Complexions, and carried Health in their whole Appearance: Before theſe, a Devil, in the Dreſs of a Drawer, had placed a vaſt Barrel of Liquor, of which when each had got his Doſe, the Effects of the Poiſon began to work differently upon theſe poor Patients, that ſeem'd lately in a State ſo florid. Some, that were of the moſt gigantick Size, like Father Dominick in the Spaniſh Fryer, ſunk two Yards and a Half in the Wetting. Others again, who were thin Men, were bloated by Dropſies, into the Dimenſions which the former had ſhrunk from.—They, who juſt before, had Vigour enough to out-voice their own Hunting-Horns, were, by a Doſe or two of that ſtrange, alterative Liquor, brought to ſqueak like thoſe Pipes, which the Boys make of an Oat-ſtraw.—They, who uſed to leap Five-bar-Gates, Quickſet-Hedges, and Park-Palings, could not wag a Hand, or a Foot, without [457] crying out of the Gout, or the Rheumatiſm: Theſe had been called in the World, COUNTRY 'SQUIRES, and were active Men in their Time, at the Hunting down of a Fox, or crying up of a Burgeſs.—But it was diſmal to behold, what Faces they made now, when the Fury ſhew'd them their own Figures, in the ſtartling Glaſs of Reflection!

THE next Place, that old Mother CAUTION conducted me to, was a gloomy Walk, which the farther we penetrated into it, was the deeper darkened with the Shade of Juniper and Eugh Trees: In the midſt, was a Little Thatch'd Houſe, as full as it could hold, of Earthen Veſſels, ſtor'd with a Juice, that was but one Remove from Poyſon: The poor Wretches, who frequented this dark Hovel, where moſtly Engliſh, and pleaded the Privililege of their Liberty, for getting rid of their Senſes, as freely, as their Countrymen, of higher Quality, who paid dearer for the ſame Right, in proportion to their better Circumſtances, and dealt in Poyſons of a ſlower Operation. Many Cuſtomers went in here but half Dreſs'd, and came out again Naked; Moſt of them labour'd under Miſeries and Diſeaſes without a Name; and ſome of them endeavour'd to hang themſelves on the Trees that gave a Name to the fatal Liquor.—

BUT, I was tranſported in the next Place I came to, and flatter'd my Imagination, that I was got out of the infernal Regions, into thoſe, which were form'd for Delight, and, [458] by the Ancients, called, The Elyſian Fields. I was led into a noble Edifice, adorn'd with the moſt magnificent Furniture, Gildings, Sculptures, Paintings, Glaſs-Sconces, with hundreds of Wax Tapers lighted in them; the Roofs ecchoed and re-ſounded, with the fineſt Muſick, that cou'd ariſe from the moſt elegant Variety of the ſweeteſt Inſtruments. Here was an Aſſembly of the moſt active and fineſhap'd Gentlemen, together with a Set of the moſt ſeemingly modeſt and beautiful Women, that ever my Eyes beheld;—when, immediately, two Devils, in Maſquerade, appear'd to the Company, with the moſt complaiſant and inviting Airs imaginable.—One of them led the Gentlemen to a luxurious Table, adorn'd with Cryſtals, repleniſhed with the ſtrongeſt and richeſt Wines, of all Growths and Climates, and dealt Glaſſes round with Profuſion: The other, which was a She Devil, conducted the Ladies, in like Manner, to another Table, richly ornamented with Silver Equipages, and Vaſes of the fineſt China, which were filled, as ſhe pretended, with Liquors, that promoted Sobriety, but had really ſo different an Effect, that the Fumes and Vapours ariſing from their Brimmers, forced me to remove to a greater Diſtance.

This drinking Scene being finiſhed, the Word was given to Mask and Dance;—But, inſtead of forming a regular Motion, the whole Company, Male and Female, without [459] Diſtinction of Sex, Age or Condition, fell, jumbled, into one promiſcuous Heap, upon which enſued horrid Outcries, and a confus'd Claſh of Swords, from Men, who were murdering one another, about Daughters, Wives and Siſters: So that in a Moment, methought, like the ſhifting of a Scene in Dr. Fauſtus, this fine Apartment was chang'd into an Hoſpital, diſtinguiſh'd into little Cloſets, like Cells.—In theſe unhappy little Cells, were Ladies under a Courſe of Torment, (a Fury always holding before their Eyes, a Picture of their departed Beauty:) I took Notice of One, whoſe Picture repreſented the ſmootheſt, Satten Skin, with the fineſt Tincture imaginable, while the blubbering Original was melting away in Tears, with Cheeks ſwell'd into Carbuncles, and ſpotted over with purple Pimples: Another, whoſe Portrait diſplay'd a Lovelineſs, almoſt Angelical, was ſtaring on it with bloodſhot Eyes, and a Face, ſo diſtorted with Convulſions, that ſhe look'd, methought, more frightful than the Fury, that attended her.—I begg'd of CAUTION to let me retreat from this melancholy Manſion, becauſe it fill'd me with more Horror than I was able to ſupport, to ſee the Effects of ſuch ſeeming Pleaſantry, producing Deſpair and real Miſery; and ſuch alluring Beauty, betray'd into ſuch hideous and frightful Deformity.

[460]CAUTION was ſo obliging, as to grant my Petition in Part; but told me, That as I muſt carry Warning with me, when I return'd to the upper Regions, ſhe was under a Neceſſity of conducting me to ſeveral other Places. This made it impoſſible for me to haſten out of my Dream, and will not, I hope, expoſe me to the Cenſure, which we old People ſometimes lie under, of being tedious in our Story-telling, and talking rather by Rule than by Meaſure.—In ſhort, I find I muſt Dream on, 'till I come to the End of my next Paper.

The Plain Dealer. No 113.
MONDAY, April 19. 1725.
The VISION continued.

—Tollite Barbarum
Morem, Verecundumque Bacchum,
Sanguineis prohibete rixis.
HOR.

I WAS as much deceiv'd in the next Place, that Old Mother CAUTION convey'd me to, as I had been in the laſt.—A magnificent Square open'd to my View, whoſe [461] four Sides were form'd by the fineſt Architecture. Thoſe Stately Palaces, my Guide told me, were inhabited by Perſons of the higheſt Rank and Fortune, and who were reckoned to have the moſt delicate Taſte of Living. She carry'd me into one, that appear'd the nobleſt in the Quadrangle; and, there, from a Window towards the Garden, which is ſituated on an Eminence, that borders on delicious Fields, and commands an opening Extent of Country, ſhe ſhew'd me, by the Help of a Proſpective Glaſs, a Dozen fair Manor-Towns, all ſurrounded by a pleaſant Variety of Hills and Dales, Plains and Woods, Green Meadows and Corn Fields, richly waving with a promis'd Harveſt: Gardens, and ſweet Parterres, with Fiſh Ponds and Canals that glitter'd thro' the Trees; All which, ſhe ſaid, was but a ſmall Portion of the Earth, enjoy'd by this Son of Fortune, who was Maſter of that fine Palace we ſtood in—This Houſe had been, it ſeems, every Day, in the Afternoon, and every Night, and all the Night long, crowded from Top to Bottom, with People of all Sexes, Ages, and Countries; who, provided they had the Merit of wanting nothing, were welcome to partake of all the Abundance of this Place; where nothing appear'd, but what was noble and delightful. The Earth, from Pole to Pole, was ranſack'd (as were the Air and Water) to ſupply this Houſe with Delicacies.

[462]BUT the Owner (who gloried in his Hoſpitality, without eſteeming any one of his Gueſts, but in proportion as he profeſs'd an Admiration of this Oſtentatious Magnificence of Living) valued himſelf moſt upon the Variety of his taſteful Wines, which Merchants, from all Quarters of the World, were Hourly emptying in upon him. They were diſtinguiſh'd by ſuch different Names, that it would require as much Study, as would make a Scholar in any other Science, to Regiſter, and do Juſtice to their Titles, Colours, Taſtes, and the happy Places which produc'd them. Different Companies in every Apartment, had their Signals, and gave Fire together; and, by their Number, it was reckon'd, That every leading Glaſs, that was turn'd up by the gay Maſter, pour'd out about a Tun, including Servants Computations, by way of Perquiſite, and Emolument.

CAUTION, at the Sound of every Health, bid me view the Manors from the Garden Window; and I perceiv'd a Man in a Black Gown, preſenting a Roll of Parchment to another, who was a Jolly kind of Fellow, and Steward, it ſeems, to the Landlord, arm'd with a Letter of Attorney, to ſign what Deeds he ſhould find neceſſary.—No ſooner was this Parchment return'd to the Man in Black, but immediately the Proſpect ſhorten'd, by the Length of one whole Village, which, vaniſhing from our Sight, left us no other Land Mark, where it ſtood, but [463] a vaſt and fruitful Crab Tree.—The Healths went round ſo frequently, and ſo merrily, that the Villages and Manor-Towns, diſappear'd like Miſts, in a Sunny Morning; till at laſt, the Gentleman in Black, with a Train of frightful Monſters at his Heels, enter'd fiercely the Manſion-Houſe, whence all the Company ran haſtily away; and the louder the Maſter call'd after them, ſo much the faſter they continued running.

AS ſoon as we were got into the Square (alas! fuit Ilium!) I mean the Spot, where the Square had ſtood; all the Palaces, were vaniſh'd; and turn'd, methought, into an Orchard of Crab-Trees: With whoſe Fruit, a Croud of fine Gentlemen, who were running away in their Shirts, were pelted without Mercy, by red Furies, to whoſe Favourites (a Number of Vintners and lucky Gameſters) they had, but juſt before, transferr'd their Birth-right.

IT is impoſſible to expreſs the Anguiſh, the Deſpair, of theſe unlanded Gentlemen; ſome tore down Branches, and accuſing one another for the Seduction of ill Example, form'd a Battle with diſmember'd Crab-Trees: others hang'd themſelves among the Boughs, at the Approach of ill-look'd Ruffians, who ſurrounded them in their New Orchard.

THE next was an Aſſembly of Men of Wit; conſiſting of a Poet, an Orator, a Philoſopher, a Mathematician, a Divine, a Military [464] Officer, the fine Gentleman, who entertain'd them all, and an Eunnch, who ſung in the Opera.—The Poet recited a Hymn to Bacchus of his own Compoſing—The Orator, with great Gracefulneſs, harangu'd upon the Force of Eloquence, which he attributed to the Warmth of Wine—The Philoſopher ſet Cato's Virtue before them, as held ſteady, by the Strength of Drinking.—The Divine averr'd, That, Solomon ſaid, Wine made the Face of a Man to SHINE, and prov'd it very ſoberly, by ſhewing its Effects upon his own illuminated Countenance.—The Mathematician produc'd a Pun, and ſaid, He lov'd a full Gage, becauſe it was the Perfection of Meaſure: And to meaſure exactly, was the Duty of his Proſeſſion.—The Officer commended Wine, as a great Inflamer of Courage; and quoted a Dutch Author, in Defence of the Uſe of Drinking, in Times of War: And the faithful Service of Auxillary Brandy.—The fine Gentleman expatiated on the Advantage to be reap'd by entertaining ſuch polite Company, when aſſembled over a Bottle; and ordered the Fury that attended them, to put round the Glaſs: At which the Eunuch began to ſing, and the whole Company clapped their Hands, and roar'd out Encore, and Bravo.

NO ſooner had the Glaſs gone round, but the Orator propos'd Method to be the Foundation of Argument; and inſiſted, that All [465] ſhould talk in their Turns; which, as ſoon as any began to do, he broke in upon his own Rule; and gallop'd, with a bawling Voice, through Diviſions and Subdiviſions, 'till he had diſunited the whole Company.—The Poet, thought he had equal Right to the Uſe of his Tongue, and roſe to aſſert it, in an exorbitant Manner, juſt as he found he had loſt the Uſe of it.—The Philoſopher cried out, in vain, That Men muſt labour to ſubdue their Paſſions; and, to convince them how eaſy it was, fell into ſo violent a one himſelf, that he knock'd down the poor Poet, with a Club, called Argumentum Baccilinum; For, ſays he, there is no other Way of diſputing againſt thoſe who deny firſt Principles;—The Divine, ſeeing a Philoſopher turn Murderer, and talk, at the ſame Time of Principles, thunder'd out Anathema's againſt Diſputing at all, where the Buſineſs, they met for, was Drinking.—The Mathematician was muttering Problems, and tracing out a Globe upon the Table, with his Fingers dipt in the Liquor that the Scufflers had ſpilt upon it; and the fine-bred Gentleman to aſſiſt the Depth of his important Deſigns, was pouring more Wine, to that which was ſpilt already, leſt he might want a Supply of Liquor; But juſt as the Figure was upon the Point of being finiſhed, the Officer ſwore it made dull Company, and rubb'd it out with his Sleeve: The Mathematician ſeeing his Globe defac'd, cried, The World was at an [466] End; to which the Philoſopher and Divine agreeing, and the reſt of the Company denying it, they fell all together by the Ears, and ſqueezed the Eunuch to Death, while he was trying the Influence of his Muſick againſt Madneſs.

WHEN the Fury was juſt going to reſtore them to their Senſes again, that they might perform over the ſame Exerciſe, (which they do, it ſeems, every Hour, juſt as ſtrange Sights are ſhewn in Fairs, or as Drunken Men renew their waking Debauches, after a little Interval of Sleep in their Lifetimes) I left them, with a pungent Regret, that there ſhould be in Liquor ſuch a Power of turning Strength into Weakneſs, Health into Sickneſs, Beauty into Deformity, Riches into Poverty, Friendſhip into Murder, Wiſdom into Folly, and Wit into Madneſs!

I WAK'D, with no ſmall Wonder at this ſleeping Ramble of my Imagination: But turning over a Collection of Old News-Papers, bound up in Volumes, from the Reſtoration, gradually downward, I found them fill'd with Yearly Proofs, that Men act the very ſame Follies, waking in this World, that I had been Dreaming were done in the other.

THERE I found Accounts of Men of great Eſtates, dead in a Priſon, from the Effects of Drinking:—Quarrels every jot as fantaſtical as any I have been deſcribing—There were Accounts of Men caſting Lots, [467] in their Liquor, which ſhould be hang'd, and which the Hangman;—Here were fine Hiſtories of others, who, in a ridiculous Bravado, had drank the Health of the Devil, in a Punch-bowl ſeaſon'd with Opium, and launch'd down, while the Humour was on 'em, to pay a Viſit to their grateful Patron.—I look'd back as far as the Time, when certain wild Beaſts, called Mohocks, had broke looſe, here in London; and I found that it was no new Thing for Generals, and Common Soldiers, Lords, Watchmen, and Drawers, Counts, Coblers and Hackney-Coachmen, to engage in no unequal Matches together, and fight with all the Triumph of Drunkenneſs; nay, what is more, I found all this as duly repeated here, as I dreamt it to be in the Lower Regions.

WHILE I was thus poring over my News Papers, and reflecting, that the Life of Man, tallied exactly (as to its Extravagance) with the Dreams of his diſorder'd Fancy, I heard a Noiſe in the Street, as if all Barbican were in an Uproar, and looking out of my Window, I ſaw Men with gilded Staves, and an Air of exerted Magiſtracy, knocking down a Set of roaring little Heroes, with Leeks in their Hats.—Inquiring into the Matter, I was told, by an Arch-Wag (ſmiling, as if he derided my Ignorance) That it was nothing, but a few Welſhmen; who were got Loyally [468] Drunk, and did ſober People a Miſchief, in Honour of the good Saint, their Patron.

I RESOLV'D then (as extravagant as my Thoughts ſeem'd to me before, and perfectly remov'd out of Nature) to pen them down; ſince I found, ſuch Perſons did really exiſt, as I had believ'd, Imagination could only ſhadow, in the prepoſterous Inconſiſtence of a Dream.—It may, thought I, be of Uſe, to ſhew Men, who are addicted to this Vice, their Pictures, plac'd in the fulleſt Point of Abſurdity: And, ſince moſt of them take Hell to be a Dream, it is natural enough to expect, that a Dream of Hell may divert them.

The Plain Dealer. No 114.
FRIDAY, April 23. 1725.

[469]
Pulvis & Umbra ſumus.—
HOR.

AMONG a numberleſs Variety of Similitudes, by which the Different Wits of Poets, Satiriſts, Philoſophers, and Divines, have endeavour'd to expreſs the Shortneſs, and Inſignificance, of Humane Life, I am moſt pleas'd with that of Lucian, where he compares it to thoſe little Bubbles, which are made by a Shower of Rain, that falls upon ſome Lake or River; where they are broken, as faſt as they are form'd, and give way to others, that immediately follow them.

THERE is, in this Compariſon, the Emptineſs, the Smoke, and the Buſtle, as well as the Weakneſs, and Brevity of Life: It is, methinks, a very mortifying Picture of that Step, half ſtridden, That Sporting-Field of Fortune, which St. Auguſtin has, ſo comprehenſively, explain'd himſelf upon, when he ſays, ‘"It is a Life, ebbing with Doubts, flowing with Hopes, and beaten by Miſeries; [470] puff'd up with Luxury, and made lean by Abſtinence: Diſtracted by Wiſhes, ſharpen'd by Cares, and blunted by Indolence; arrogant in Youth, peeviſh in Age; reſtleſs in Health, and impatient in Sickneſs: And, at laſt, ſo over-clouded by Death, that, Ceaſing to be, one would think, It never was,

I WAS inſenſibly attracted to this Subject, by my Peruſal of Three Epitaphs, widely different in their Deſigns: For the Firſt excites Humility in High-Life, The Second adviſes Retirement, and The Third inflames to Glory.

THAT which recommends Humility to the Poſſeſſors of Power and Dignity, is the Tranſlation of a Latin Inſcription, on the Monument of a Duke of Brunſwick, in the Cathedral Church of that City.

Here, Great, and Good, Duke HENRY buried lies:
O'er their dead Founder theſe proud Arches riſe.
His pious Conſort, too (the Poor's ſafe Guide)
Mix'd with his Duſt, clings cloſer to his Side:
MATILDA, Daughter to Great England's King!
Whoſe Virtues, ſpite of Death, ſtill bloom in Spring.
King OTHO, too, their Son, here ſhares their Reſt;
By both fond Parents Arms, again poſſeſs'd.
And, here,—O Grief of Beauty! near him, lies,
The Charmer of his Heart, and all Mens Eyes!
That lovely Form, whoſe Smiles inflam'd Deſire,
Here, Food for Worms, can no ſoft Woes inſpire.
[471]
Thou, Paſſenger, whoſe Eyes this Marble view,
Learn to be Wiſe; nor fleeting Hopes purſue:
Life is an Evening Breeze; a murm'ring Breath;
That blows, till Sun-ſet, then grows calm, in Death.

THE Second Epitaph (which recommends, as I ſaid, a retir'd Life) is that of Similis, a Military Officer, of great Experience, in the Time of the Emperor Adrian; who obtain'd Leave, with no ſmall Difficulty, to retire, at laſt, into the Country; and living there, but Seven Years, in a quiet and peaceful Privacy, enjoyed more ſolid Satisfaction, than he had ever reap'd before, from all his long Life, ſpent in Hurry, Danger, and Diſtinction: So that, coming, at laſt, to die, he appointed by his Will, this Epitaph.

Shou'd Curious Readers wiſh to know,
Whoſe Duſt their Feet are preſſing;
SIMILIS, fam'd in War, lies low,
His Country's Boaſt, and Bleſſing.
Long did he Toil, and Graſp, and Strive,
Yet loſt his Time, he fears;
For, tho', till Seventy-Six, ALIVE,
He LIV'd, but Seven ſhort Years.

THE Third Epitaph, to give it at once, the higheſt praiſe which can be given it, is worthy its illuſtrious Subject, the Great CZAR of RUSSIA. It was ſent me by a Gentleman, to whoſe Hands it came, in Latin. But [472] I was ſo juſtly charm'd with the Sublimity of the Sentiments, that I could not reſiſt the Temptation of giving it to the Ladies, and other Engliſh Readers, in their own native Language; becauſe I would have none of them robb'd of the Pleaſure, which I receiv'd, in peruſing it.

Hic jacent
Reliquiae, vix mortales,
PETRI ALEXOWITZ,
RUSSIARUM IMPERATORIS haud opus eſt dicere,
Honorem enim iſti Diademati addidit, non recepit.
Taceat Antiquitas,
Cedat ALEXANDER,
Cedat CAESAR;
Se facilem praebet Victoria
Heroum Ductoribus,
Milites vinci neſcios Imperantibus;
Sed ILLE,
Qui in morte ſolâ requieſcit,
Non Famae avidos,
Non Bello peritiſſimos,
Non homines Mortem temnentes,
Sed Bruta, vix (que) humani nominis dignos Subditos
Invenit;
Etiamhos, compatriis urſis ſimillimos, & averſantes,
Expolivit;
Barbaritatis Haereditariae tenebras ille Phoebus fugavit;
Et propriâ virtute Germanorum Victores vicit.
Alii feliciſſimè Exercitus duxerunt, Hic creavi [...].
Erubeſce, Ars!
[473]Hic Vir Maximus tibi nihil debuit:
Exulta; Natura!
Hoc Stupendium tuum eſt.
Here under Depoſited
Lies All that cou'd die, of a Man Immortal;
PETER ALEXIOVITZ:
It is almoſt ſuperfluous to add,
GREAT EMPEROR OF RUSSIA:
A Title!
Which, inſtead of adding to his Glory,
Became Glorious by His wearing it.
Let Antiquity be dumb,
Nor boaſt her ALEXANDER,
Or her CAESAR.
How eaſy was Victory
To Leaders, who were follow'd by Heroes!
And whoſe Soldiers felt a noble Diſdain,
To be thought leſs awake than their Generals!
But HE,
Who, in this Place, firſt, knew Reſt,
Found Subjects Baſe, and Unactive,
Unwarlike, Unlearn'd, Untractable,
Neither covetous of Fame,
Nor liberal of Danger;
Creatures, with the Names of Men,
But with Qualities rather Brutal than Rational:
Yet, even Theſe,
He poliſh'd from their Native Ruggedneſs,
And, breaking out, like a New SUN,
To illuminate the Minds of a People,
Diſpell'd their Night of Hereditary Darkneſs:
'Till, by Force of His invincible Influence,
[474]He had taugnt them to conquer,
Even the Conquerors of Germany.
Other Princes have commanded victorious Armies,
This Commander created them!
Bluſh, O ART!
At a Hero, who ow'd Thee Nothing.
Exult, O NATURE!
For Thine was This Prodigy.

I will End with a ſhort Collection of Sentences, which a Writer, of the laſt Century, aſſures us, he had copied out of the Pocket-Book of an Elector, of the German Empire; where he found it inſerted, in That Prince's own Hand-writing.—LIFE is ſhort, BEAUTY Deceitful, RICHES Uncertain, DOMINION Invidious, VICTORY Doubtful, YOUTH Reſtleſs, OLD AGE Miſerable; DEATH, only, is HAPPY, and the FAME of WISDOM Everlaſting!

The Plain Dealer. No 115.
MONDAY, April 26. 1725.

[475]
Scribimus indocti, doctique.—
HOR.

THE Three following Letters being long enough to fill one Paper, it muſt be referred to another, to ſay what may be neceſſary in Anſwer to them.

To the Author of the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

PERCEIVING, that it is cuſtomary, for you, to receive Letters from our Sex, I am willing to throw myſelf into your Protection, in Hopes of meeting with a favourable Regard from you, and that you may aſſiſt me in my Diſtreſs.

I AM a young Woman of ſome Fortune, and of no mean Extraction; and was, ſome Months ago, the Happieſt Woman in the World: My Story, in ſhort, is this: There was a young Gentleman, every way ſuperior [476] to myſelf, thought fit to make his Addreſſes to me. At firſt I concluded, from the Inequality of our Fortunes, that he did it purely for a little Diverſion; but, by I know not what kind of Infatuation, I was ſoon perſwaded, to believe he was juſt and ſincere in his Pretenſions. From hence, there ſprang an Intimacy between us, which laſted a conſiderable Time, and which, I never thought would have a Period, 'till Death had ſeparated us for ever: But, behold the Viciſſitudes and Changes of Life! the unexpected Turns of Fortune! which no Humnn Foreſight can prevent: When I thought myſelf almoſt arrived to the higheſt Perfection of earthly Happineſs, Strephon, the unkind Strephon! forſook me, and bereft me of all my Joys, and Hopes, at once.

IT is to me very ſurprizing, that ſo intimate a Correſpondence, which was carried on with ſo much pretended Satisfaction, on his Part, ſhou'd now be ſo irkſome to him, as to make him avoid my Company, and even the very Sight of me. I cannot pretend to penetrate into his Thoughts, but I am ſure his Actions always carried in them the Marks of a real and unfeigned Paſſion. He ſeem'd ever ſtudious, to divert and pleaſe me; and treated me, with a Civility and Reſpect, which is not common, even in the moſt paſſionate Lover. It is now, I think, two Months ſince he payed me a Viſit; nor have I heard from him, to let me know the Reaſon of his [477] Abſence, which, together with ſome private Intimations I have had from others, gives me ſufficient Grounds to believe he is falſe.

AND is it poſſible! after ſuch an uncommon Behaviour, he ſhould abandon, nay, deſpiſe the Perſon he once appear'd ſo much to admire! Are theſe his Proteſtations of eternal Love! Is this his Friendſhip? Has he ſo ſoon forgot his Vows, of Conſtancy and Fidelity? Who, even of the moſt Wiſe and Prudent, could have ſuſpected, much leſs diſcern'd Deceit, under the fair Appearance of ſo much ſeeming Honour and Sincerity? I was ſo far from diſtruſting him, whom, I thought, the Virtuous and Generous Strephon, that I put my whole Confidence in him, and was innocently betray'd, by the irreſiſtable Charms of his Eloquence.

I HAVE wrote to him, ſeveral Times, ſince he has left me; but either my Letters were intercepted, or he is wholly regardleſs of them; for I have not, as yet, received an Anſwer; nor can I, by any Means, inform myſelf, what has been the Cauſe of his unkind Separation. For this Reaſon, I take this publick Opportunity, both to ask your Advice, in ſo critical a Juncture, and to convince him, of his diſingenuous Treatment of one, for whom he pretended, once, to have the moſt unalterable Veneration. If you think fit, to give this Letter a Place, in one of your Papers, I know it will come to his Hands; and, [478] perhaps, ſuch a Memorial, under your Authority and Protection, may have a greater Influence over him than any common Epiſtle. I deſire therefore you will inſert it, and oblige your moſt humble Servant,

DELIA.

Pray correct it before it is Printed.

To the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

IT is a common Obſervation, That Trees that Bloſſom ſooneſt, are liable to be ſooneſt Froſt nipt. As if Nature, by obſerving the full Growth of ſuch forward Virtues, miſtook the Progreſs of Years, and meaſured Maturity not by Age, but by Character.

I MOURN the Miſery, Mr. PLAIN DEALER, of having lately loſt a Friend, whoſe Picture I will preſent you with, as it is drawn to the Life, in my Memory!—

IN Buſineſs there was a Pleaſure, always triumphing over his Hurry; ſuch a Suavity and Complacence in his Behaviour, as attracted the Heart, before the Head could have Time to weigh him. He was ſubſervient to no Paſſion, but Love, which made him a Friend to all Mankind, nor could thoſe narrow Limits of Soul, which contract Mens Friendſhips to their Intereſts, reſtrain [479] his boundleſs Generoſity, which made him Every Body's, who had Miſeries, within the Compaſs of his Eaſing. He had ſo feveriſh a Thirſt of Obliging, that an Enemy would have call'd his Liberality rather his Diſeaſe than his Ornament. He ſought for no Reward, but the Proſperity of thoſe he favour'd; and if at any Time it was not in his Power to grant, he was more aſham'd, and unſatisfied, than the Perſon whom he diſappointed; and, by way of Atonement, injoined himſelf the Penance of watching for ſome happier Opportunity, when he cou'd meet the Wiſh above half way, and prevent its Explanation.

NOR did this Benevolence of his Nature extend only to thoſe within the Sphere of his Acquaintance; whoſe-ever Misfortunes came to his Knowledge, made an equal, and noble Impreſſion;—For he impropriated all Mens Griefs, till he had leſſen'd them, by Comforts.

IF there were any ſo Ungenerous as to make him their Enemy, he was as willing to forgive, as they to offer the Injury.—Judge, then, how happy muſt thoſe few have been, who were bleſt with his Intimacy! Whatever Tenderneſs is conceived in Nature from Mothers to their new-born Infants, may deſerve to paſs as ſome faint Image of his Sweetneſs:—His Faith, and his Friendſhips, were as laſting as his Life was.

[480] WITH all theſe Advantages, never had Man an humbler Opinion of himſelf; which was an Armor that defended him, againſt the Flattery of Fortune, as his Steadineſs deſpis'd her Malice. To Him, to be High or Low, were Accidents merely indifferent: The one cou'd neither exalt, nor cou'd the other depreſs his Sentiments: And had Heaven thought fit to have exempted his Body, like his Mind, from Infirmities, He had been as well Immortal as Ineſtimable. The faſhionable Vanities which allure and captivate young Hearts, could never get Admittance into his maſculine, and diſcerning Boſom, always guarded by Reaſon and Virtue. He renounc'd, in the Pride of his Youth, thoſe Enjoyments which others content themſelves with diſclaiming, when the Power of poſſeſſing them is either loſt or abated; Oh! I am left in a Deſart, without this Guide, that my fond Soul hung upon! And nothing remains, but the Influence of his Example, that can be worth the Wiſh of any Man, who had the Bleſſing to be acquainted with him.—

IN Juſtice to his Memory, allow this little Specimen of my departed Friend, a Place in one of your Papers, and you will much oblige,

Your Conſtant Reader, And Well-Wiſher, NED MOURNFULL.
[481]

To the Worſhipful Maſter PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

I HAVE had ſuch an Over-mind to ſee you, that I came to Town on purpoſe, being a Kind of Plain Dealer myſelf. For tho'f I am a Country Fellow, and no Latin Scollard, yet I reckon myſelf the wiſeſt in our whole Pariſh, except (mayhap) the Parſon: And he is ſo churliſh, that one dare not deal plainly with him. I believe you to be no proud Man, and that made me ſo bold as to come to ſeek you out, being in hopes to have told our Parſon, that I had converſed, in my Time, with as Learned a Man as he.

GOOD Maſter PLAIN DEALER, be ſo kind as to tell a Body, in your next Paper, where you may be ſound, and rather than loſe the Sight of ſo good-natur'd, an old Man, I will come once more on purpoſe, tho'f I ſhou'd have no other Buſineſs. When I enquired after you, I thought I ſhou'd ne'er have found you out; but then, at laſt, I was told, by a very young Man, that you was to be met with, at the Tower of Barbican.—Z'lids, I was never ſo ſo glad in all my Life-time; but ſoon after I found I had nothing to be glad on, and I doubt the Rogue put the City-Bite upon me; for I have ſearched every Crick and Corner to find out ſuch a Tower, and could [482] get no News of it: Barbican I did find, and the Tower I did find; but I cou'd find no Tower of Barbican. I have worn out two Shooes by the Bargain, that were as good as any two Pair I can get hereabouts. Pray, if there be any ſuch Tower, and you live in it, I beſeech you to order Matters ſo, that I may come to find it out.

I READ your Papers, and underſtand them as well as moſt other Folks, all but your Top Sentences, which are generally ſo hard, that they puzzle all our Pariſh. The beſt Scollards of us put our Heads together to find out their Meaning; and, when we can't agree about it, we go to conſult our Parſon; and, I am ſorry to ſay it, he pronounces a hard Judgment upon them.—He does not think it worth his Trouble (he ſays) to underſtand Heathen Authors, becauſe thoſe Men were ſeldom good Chriſtians.—But this ſhall not prevent my Reading your Papers, for I have a better Opinion of you, than to think ſo prophanely of any of your Friends and Acquaintance. Being in over-great Haſte for the Country, have but juſt Time to put you in mind of me, and, wiſhing you in good Health, as I am at this preſent Writing (bleſſed be God for it) remain,

Worſhipful SIR,
Your very Sincere Friend, George Gardener.

The Plain Dealer. No. 116.
MONDAY, May 3. 1725.

[483]
Pro captu Lectoris habent ſua fata Libelli.

To the Author of the PLAIN DEALER.

SIR,

TURNING over the Works of Shakeſpear, lately uſher'd into the World by an extravagant Subſcription, and finding the Six Volumes, tho' called Shakeſpear's Works, contained not his VENUS and ADONIS, his TARQUIN and LUCRECE, and numberleſs other Miſcellaneous Pieces, which, for Richneſs of Fancy, and the many beautiful Deſcriptions that adorn them, are far from being inferior to ſome of his more celebrated Labours; I thought my ſelf obliged to become a Purchaſer of the Seventh Volume alſo, which appears to me, to have no Demerit to occaſion its Excluſion.

[484] YOU, Mr. PLAIN DEALER, whoſe Lucubrations are ſo juſtly admir'd by all good Judges of Wit and Taſte, will indulge me the Tranſcription of a few of thoſe numberleſs natural Beauties, which ſhine every where thro' theſe charming Pieces; and the rather, becauſe I have been inform'd, That this Volume, which is ſo neceſſary and eſſential a Part of the Works of that inimitable Author, has not, by ſome of the Wits in Leading-Strings, been look'd upon with equal Favour; becauſe this Edition of it was not midwif'd into the World, by the great Names that have condeſcended, for the Emolument of the Publick, to ſhine in the Title Page of the Firſt Six Volumes: But as this may take up more Room, than you will have to ſpare in one Paper, I ſhall now and then occaſionally beg Leave, by your Means, to recommend to the Implicite Witlings of the Age, thoſe Beauties which might otherwiſe eſcape their Obſervation.

AND as it is impoſſible, where ever I open the Book, not to be ſurprized with the Beauties of this great Genius, I will preſent your Readers with the firſt that offer'd it ſelf; the Exclamation the violated Lucrece makes upon OPPORTUNITY and TIME, for contributing to her Undoing.

[485]
O! OPPORTUNITY! Thy Guilt is great;
'Tis thou that execut'ſt the Traitor's Treaſon:
Thou ſett'ſt the Wolf where he the Lamb may get:
Whoever plots the Sin, Thou point'ſt the Seaſon:
'Tis Thou that ſpurn'ſt at Right, at Law, at Reaſon;
And in thy ſhady Cell, where none may ſpy her,
Sits SIN, to ſeize the Souls, that wander by her.
Thou mak'ſt the Veſtal violate her Oath;
Thou blow'ſt the Fire, when Temperance is thaw'd:
Thou ſmother'ſt Honeſty; Thou murder'ſt Troth;
Thou foul Abbettor! Thou notorious Bawd!
Thou planteſt Scandal, and diſplaceſt Land:
Thou Raviſher! Thou Traitor! Thou falſe Thief!
Thy Honey turns to Gall, thy Joy to Grief.
Thy ſecret Pleaſure turns to open Shame;
Thy private Feaſting to a publick Faſt;
Thy ſmoth'ring Titles to a ragged Name;
Thy ſugar'd Tongue to bitter Wormwood Taſte:
Thy violent Vanities can never laſt:
How comes it then, vile OPPORTUNITY!
Being ſo bad, ſuch Numbers ſeek for Thee?
[486]
When wilt Thou be the humble Suppliant's Friend,
And bring him where his Suit may be obtain'd?
When wilt thou ſort an Hour great Strifes to end?
Or free that Soul, which Wretchedneſs hath chain'd?
Give Phyſick to the Sick, Eaſe to the Pain'd?
The Poor, Lame, Blind, cry out, halt, creep for Thee,
But They ne'er meet with OPPORTUNITY.
The Patient dies, while the Phyſician ſleeps;
The Orphan pines, while the Oppreſſor feeds:
Juſtice is feaſting, while the Widow weeps;
Advice is ſporting, while Infection breeds:
Thou grant'ſt no Time for charitable Deeds:
Wrath, Envy, Treaſon, Rape, and Murder rages;
Thy heinous Hours wait on them, as their Pages.
Guilty Thou art of Murder, and of Theft;
Guilty of Perjury, and Subornation;
Guilty of Treaſon, Forgery, and Shift;
Guilty of Inceſt, that Abomination;
An Acceſſary, by thine Inclination,
To all Sins paſt, and all that are to come,
From the Creation, to the General Doom.
[487]
Miſhapen TIME! Copes-mate of ugly Night;
Swift, ſubtle Poſt, Carrier of griſly Care;
Eater of Youth; falſe Slave to falſe Delight;
Baſe Watch of Woes, Sin's Pack-Horſe, Virtue's Snare:
Thou nurſeſt All, and murder'ſt All that are:
O hear me then, injurious, ſhifting TIME!
Be guilty of my Death, ſince of my Crime!
Why hath thy Servant OPPORTUNITY,
Betray'd the Hours, thou gav'ſt me to repoſe?
Cancell'd my Fortunes, and inchained me
To endleſs Date of never-ending Woes?
TIME's Office is, To find the Hate of Foes,
To eat up Error, by Opinion bred;
Nor ſpend the Dowry of a Lawful Bed.
TIME's Glory is, To calm contending Kings,
To unmask Falſhood, and bring Truth to light;
To ſtamp the Seal of Time on aged Things;
To wake the Morn, and centinel the Night;
To wrong the Wronger, 'till he render Right;
To ruinate proud Buildings with thy Hours,
And ſmear with Duſt, their glittering, golden Tow'rs:
[488]
To fill with Worm-holes ſtately Monuments:
To feed Oblivion with Decay of Things;
To blot old Books, and alter their Contents;
To pluck the Quills from ancient Ravens Wings;
To dry the old Oak's Sap, and cheriſh Springs;
To ſpoil Antiquities of hammer'd Steel,
And turn the giddy Round of Fortune's Wheel:
Why work'ſt thou Miſchief in thy Pilgrimage,
Unleſs thou could'ſt return to make Amends?
One poor retiring Minute in an Age,
Would purchaſe Thee a thouſand thouſand Friends;
Lending him Wit, that to bad Debtors lends.
O! this dread Night! would'ſt Thou one Hour come back,
I could prevent this Storm, and ſhun this Wrack!

WITH this admirable Flow of Fancy, and lively Imagery, does this unbounded Genius, forgetful indeed of her unfit Condition for Oratory, whom he repreſents as thus Copious, while he is forciby carried away by the Stream of his own charming Imagination. I ſhall only mention, That the Deſcription the Poet gives of her Riſing to the Morn, her Laſt Will, her Parley with her Maid, the Maid's ſympathizing Behaviour; [489] and his admirable Deſcription of the Groom ſhe ſent to Collatine, are Beauties, in their Way, that have no Equal, but in the ſame Author. But I cannot forbear recommending his Deſcription of the Picture he makes the unhappy Lady turn her Eyes to, of Troy beleagur'd by the Greeks, to avenge the Rape of Hellen; which, for Strength of Deſcription, ſurpaſſes any Thing of the like Kind; and ſhews the Excellency of the Poet's Art above that of the Painter (as the Soul is to the Body) ſince 'tis impoſſible the Pencil of the latter can come up to what follows.

A thouſand lamentable Objects there,
In Scorn of Nature, Art gave lifeleſs Life:
Many a dire Drop ſeem'd a Weeping Tear,
Shed, for the ſlaughter'd Husband, by the Wife.
The red Blood reek'd, to ſhew the Painter's Strife;
And dying Eyes gleam'd forth their aſhy Lights,
Like dying Coals, burnt out in tedious Nights.
There might you ſee the labouring Pioneer
Begrim'd with Sweat, and ſmeared all with Duſt:
And from the Tow'rs of Troy there would appear
The very Eyes of Men, thro' Loop-holes thruſt,
Gazing upon the Greeks with little Luſt.
[490]Such ſweet Obſervance in this Work was had,
That one might ſee thoſe far-off Eyes look ſad.
In great Commanders, Grace and Majeſty
You might behold, triumphing in their Faces:
In Youth, Quick bearing, and Dexterity;
And, here and there, the Painter interlaces
Pale Cowards, marching on, with trembling Paces;
Which heartleſs Peaſants did ſo well reſemble,
That one wou'd ſwear, He ſaw them quake and tremble.
In AJAX and ULYSSES, O! what Art
Of Phyſiognomy might one behold!
The Face of either, cypher'd either's Heart;
Their Face their Manners moſt expreſly told:
In AJAX's Eyes blunt Rage and Rigor roll'd.
But the mild Glance that ſhe ULYSSES lent,
Shew'd deep Regard, and ſmiling Government.
There, pleading, might you ſee grave NESTOR ſtand,
As 'twere, incouraging the Greeks to fight,
Making ſuch ſober Actions with his Hand,
That it beguil'd Attention, charm'd the Sight:
In Speech, it ſeem'd, his Beard, all Silver white,
Wagg'd up and down; and from his Lips did fly
Thin, winding Breath, which purl'd up to the the Sky.
[491]
About him were a Preſs of gaping Faces,
Which ſeem'd to ſwallow up his ſound Advice;
All jointly liſt'ning, but with ſeveral Graces,
As if ſome Syren did their Ears intice;
Some high, ſome low, the Painter was ſo nice:
The Scalps of many, almoſt hid behind,
To jump up higher, ſeem'd to mock the Mind.
Here one Man's Hand lean'd on another's Head,
His Noſe being ſhadow'd by his Neighbour's Ear;
Here one, being throng'd, bears back, all ſwoln and red;
Another, ſmother'd, ſeems to pelt and ſwear;
And in their Rage, (ſuch Signs of Rage they bear,
As, but for Loſs of NESTOR's golden Words,
It ſeems, they would debate with angry Swords.
For much imaginary Work was there;
Conceit deceitful; ſo compact, ſo kind,
That for ACHILLES' Image, ſtood his Spear,
Grip'd in an armed Hand, himſelf behind
Was left unſeen, ſave in the Eye of Mind;
A Hand, a Foot, a Face, a Leg, a Head,
Stood for the Whole to be imagined.
[492]
And from the Walls of ſtrong beſieged Troy,
When their brave Hope, bold Hector, march'd to Field,
Stood many Trojan Mothers, ſharing Joy
To ſee their youthful Sons bright Weapons wield;
And to their Hope, they ſuch odd Action yield,
That thro' their light Joy ſeemed to appear
(Like bright Things ſtain'd) a kind of heavy Fear.

I SHOULD tranſcribe the whole Piece, were I to give all the Beauties of this admirable Performance. I ſhall only add, That the Deſcription of HECUBA, and that of the deceitful SINON, and the different Paſſions and Reflections of LUCRETIA, on viewing the different Figures, are ſuch Maſter-pieces that they leave us without Words to expreſs the Wonder they inſpire at the Force of that Genius, whoſe Production and Glory they are. Your Paper, Mr. Plain Dealer, crowded as it generally is, with Beauties, will not be diſgrac'd by theſe Quotations; ſo that I have nothing by way of Apology to ſay; but only to aſſure you, That I am

Your conſtant Reader and Admirer, R. S.

The Plain Dealer. No 117.
FRIDAY, May 7. 1725.

[493]
—Pendent Opera interrupta.—
VIRG.

I AM ſorry, after ſo kind a Reception as has been given to my Speculations, that any Neceſſity ſhou'd ariſe, for my parting, a little precipitately, with my good-natur'd Readers: But Love, however faſhionable it is, among ſage Writers, to call it a Weakneſs, is well known to act with a Strength, that is irreſiſtable: And I need not inform Thoſe, who have perus'd me, long, or with any tolerable Degree of Attention, that Patty Amble holds an Influence over me, that is too hard for all my Gravity; and breaks, like a Butterfly, thro' my Cobweb Reſolutions.

NO longer ago than Yeſterday Morning, there was nothing farther from my Thoughts than the Diſcontinuance of my Weekly Labours: [494] But, about an Hour before Dinner, all my Purpoſes received new Colours; and, I am, now, no longer what I was, before this ſhort Billet metamorphos'd me.

Dear Slavy,

AT length, I have determin'd, to be only yours, for ever, and, in Gratitude for all thoſe, ſcarce deſerv'd, fine Things, your Letter of laſt Week, oblig'd me with, I will ſay after you, next Saturday Morning, whatever Words you wiſh moſt ardently to hear me anſwer in.—But this is abſolutely, upon Condition, that you put an End, immediately, to your Plain-Dealing. It is the moſt odious Quality you have, and, you know, I could never bear it.—I have given you, perhaps, too ſhort a Warning; but you muſt do as well as you can: For, pray Heaven I hold in the Mind, if you take me not in the preſent Humour, of

Your Miſtreſs, one Day more, And then, alas! your Servant, MARTHA AMBLE.

IT would be unreaſonable for any of my Chriſtian Readers to expect a better Excuſe than This, for my taking Leave of them, ſo abruptly.—It is poſſible, however, that, [495] when our firſt Hurry of Buſineſs is a little over, I may have Leiſure, more than enough, to talk on, as I have done hitherto: But under what Name, or Shape, I ſhall make my Appearance, is a Matter I am wholly dark in.—This only I am ſure of, and agree heartily with Her, in, That it muſt be any Thing rather than a Plain Dealer; the Averſion, if I am not miſtaken, of every Wife, in Chriſtendom!

BUT to ſoften as much as poſſible the Abruptneſs of my Departure, it may not be amiſs to ſpend a little Converſation upon thoſe agreeable Correſpondents, and indulgent Readers, which, in the Courſe of this Work, I have met with: Next to the Pleaſure of doing Good, the greateſt, is to meet with Approbation and Aſſiſtance in our Attempts towards it: This has been my Happineſs, and I hope it cannot be attributed to any reproachable Weakneſs, when I confeſs I feel a Pang at parting with it. Barely to acknowledge amounts to Gratitude in thoſe People whom Fortune does not enable to return a Benefit; that is, at preſent, my Caſe: My approaching Fate will allow me to make no better a Payment than Thanks, which therefore I deſire may be candidly accepted.

WHEN I had written thus far, an Acquaintance, whom in ſome of the preceding Diſcourſes I have recommended to the publick for a Pertneſs of Conceit and Flippancy of Tongue, happened to come into my Room, [496] and taking up the Paper ran it haſtily over, then throwing it down with a petulant Sneer, and a brisk Voice, cry'd out, ‘"Foregad, conſidering your Sentiments, and Circumſtances, grave Sir, I can't help comparing you to a Criminal taking leave of the Bye-Standers with Tears in his Eyes, before his Execution.—Faith, I long to ſee thee turn'd off, thoul't make the prettieſt Figure of a Dangler: ha, ha,"’—Then, changing his Allegory, continued his Impertinence thus, ‘"Matrimony, my good Friend, is a long and tireſome Journey, and the worſt Road that ever you travell'd in—You ſeem uneaſy, but ſure you cannot in Conſcience be diſpleaſed that I ſhould take up Plain-Dealing juſt where you left it off—If you are, to make you Amends, I promiſe never to imitate you in any Thing, particularly your laſt Reſolution of committing that dreadful Sin of Matrimony—Believe me, Friend, the Man that ſigns Marriage Articles, gives it under his Hand that he's a Fool."’

TO this I anſwered very gravely, That before I left off Plain Dealing abſolutely, I was reſolved to give him one Leſſon which might be of uſe to him in his Practice. ‘"You are to remember, continued I, that he who gives Advice, ſhould always take Care to do it in ſuch a Manner, that his Advice may not appear to be an Inſult upon the Character or Underſtanding of the Perſon [497] adviſed: Good Breeding embelliſhes Good Senſe; and True Politeneſs is no more than civiliz'd Plain Dealing."’

BUT to paſs by this volatile Spark, who if I divine aright, will in every reſpect act like a modern fine Gentleman, that is, continue a Batchelor till Sixty, to ſhew his Wit, and then marry his Houſe-Keeper, to ſhew his Judgment; let me return to the Converſation which he interrupted, tho' I muſt take ſo much Notice of his Opinion, that I promiſe my Readers if ever I appear again in Publick, I ſhall amply and impartially conſider it, by which Time perhaps my own Obſervations and Experience will better enable me to make a clear and ſatisfactory Comment upon it.

FAREWELL, then, Gentle Readers, be happy as I am ſhortly to be; I have, on my part, endeavour'd to pleaſe; and you on yours have ſhewn ſome Regard for my Endeavours: Till I can again attend you, I wiſh you heartily a more agreeable Inſtructor; but think not my perſuading you to good Humour at Parting, an Inconſiſtence in my Character; for tho' I always abhorr'd Flattery, yet I never thought Truth the worſe for being agreeably dreſs'd: The common Forms of Civility, tho' they are often the Diſguiſes of Inſincerity, are no Diſgrace to an honeſt Heart, and a good Intention. Where they are made uſe of to conceal our Sentiments, they are wicked and abominable; [498] where only to adorn, innocent and agreeable: At worſt you ought only to conſider me as one, who without loſing his Sincerity, is by degrees ceaſing to be

The PLAIN DEALER.
FINIS.

Appendix A THE CONTENTS OF THE Second VOLUME.

[]
  • No LVIII. Page 1. LETTER from Lucinda, pathetically acknowledging a violent Paſſion which too rigid Cuſtom forbids her to diſcover to the beloved Object A Diſcourſe againſt that unreaſonable Conſtraint, and in Praiſe of that moving Epiſtle, each Line whereof ſpeaks its Writer's Merit.
  • No LXIX. p. 10. The deplorable Corruption of the Theaters Obſervations on a Puppet-Show, &c with a Parallel between the Natural and Artificial Actors, &c. Cibber in Egypt. Notable Remarks on ſome Artiſts in Machinery, Actors of Wood, and Wooden Actors.
  • No LX. p. 20. Poets and Painters compared. Letter on that Topic.
  • No LXI. p. 28. The Genealogy of Labour and Pleaſure.
  • No LXII. p. 38. Letter from Aſpatia, dubious how to Educate two young Ladies, her Wards, of different Diſpoſitions. Rules for the Education of Youth.
  • []No LXIII. p. 45. Of Detraction. Apelles's Picture of it.
  • No LXIV. p. 51. Of Divination by Coffee Grounds, &c. practis'd by our Females Letter from Walter Worſhipful, giving divers particular and amazing Inſtances of his Wife Snubſy's profound Skill in Chiromancy.
  • No LXV. p. 60. Letter from Fergus Bruce, relating to Edinburgh. The ill Effects of obſtinate adhering to ſome Opinions, &c. The Benefit of Society. Advantages of the Union. Engliſh Language well underſtood in Scotland. A Remark on our Language.
  • No LXVI. p. 69. Letter, from Amanda, complaining of the Perſecution She undergoes from a hated Suitor, who is authorized to be her Tormentor. The Folly and Ungenerous Unreaſonableneſs of ſuch Perſeverance, and the unhappy Fruits of a Man's inſiſting to make a Wife of a Perſon to whom he is odious. Epitaph on a diſcording Couple in one Grave.
  • No LXVII. p. 77 Advantages accruing to the Nation from the African Trade. How improveable it is. Noble Character of the Duke of Chandos.
  • No LXVIII. p. 87. Of Epitaphs. Dryden, Pope, a fine Genius. Epitaph by him. Remark thereon. Verſion of an Epitaph on Cardinal Richelieu. Ditto on a Spaniſh Lady. Remarks on both thoſe fine Turns of Thought. Odd, contradictory Flights and Ideas in a Sonnet. Epigram on Queen Dido, with its Verſion. Another with its Verſion on Cardinal Richelieu. What does and does not make a Poet. Engliſh Laureats; their Performances adequate to their Salaries. On Lewis XIV. Its Verſion. Verſion of an extravagant Flight of a Portugueze Poet.
  • No LXIX. p. 97. Letter from Patty Amble, merrily deſcribing her Penance in a Hackney-Coach; inviting the Plain Dealer to a private Meeting, and imparting her Project of a Female Parliament, &c.
  • []No LXX. p. 107. Of Stile and Oratory. Montaigne's Sentiments of Ciceronian Elocution. Plain Dealer aſhamed of certain of his youthful Attempts that Way. Some Inſtances of Verboſeneſs, cenſured. Conciſeneſs recommended. Tacitus applauded for it. The powerful Effect of Oratory; inſtanced in a Captain, who fairly harangued his Men from their Colours.
  • No LXXI. p. 116. Letter, from Nigrella, ſeverely rallying the Plain Dealer for criticiſing on a Poet who wrote in Praiſe of Black Eyes. Verſes to Lady Somerville, on her Nuptials. Ditto on the Death of the Counteſs of Grantham.
  • No LXXII. p. 124. Arguments againſt Revenge. Encomium on the Emperor Adrian's generouſly pardoning an Enemy. That noble Example ill followed. None revengeful but the Proud and the Puſillanimous. Ogtai Khan's memorable Reprimand to his mear-ſpirited Miniſter. A Story, half as good, of Queen Elizabeth, her Treaſurer, and Spencer the Poet.
  • No LXXIII. p. 134. Writers encouraged by a Turkiſh Emperor. No ſuch Practice among us. Dedication Books, being not underſtood, returned. Ali Baſha's Method of rewarding Authors. He rewards a certain unreaſonable Poet by Meaſure, who expected Weight. Of Authors and Patrons. Theſe laſt not numerous, and why. The Happy Man, a Poem, by Mr. Richard Savage, with a Letter from him, relating to Miſcellaneous Performances in Poeſy, by him propoſed by Subſcription. Some Remarks on the Author.
  • No LXXIV. p. 142. The Engliſh ſing not well at Church. David's Pſalms wretchedly Tranſlated. A Quotation. Our Sectarians fond of the inſufferable old Verſion. A fine Verſion of the 104th Pſalm.
  • No LXXV. p. 149. Northern Lyon. The growing Power of Ruſſia to be dreaded. Vanity of thinking too well of one's Self, ſo as to contemn our Neighbour, with Inſtances. Abſolute Princes, whoſe Subjects deſpiſe Learning, moſt formidable. Who bids faireſt for Victory. A bold and remarkable [] Reply of a Gaul to a King of Macedon. No Advantage to a Prince to be deemed powerful.
  • No LXXVI p. 157. Letter from Laetitia Gambol, intimating what more concerns her than the African Trade, &c. Romp, whence derived. Females ſoon ripe between the Tropicks. Their Liberties, and what moſt recommends them to Husbands. Too light to ſink. How they mourn. Their Charity. Moral Sentiments of a Negro Prince.
  • No LXXVII. p 165. Saying of an Emir. Farther Diſcourſe againſt Redundancy in Writing. Wonderful Agility, &c. of a German. What Sights the Plain Dealer expects to ſee upon our Stages.
  • No LXXVIII. p. 172. The Plain Dealer, becauſe Old, not regarded by the Females. Five Things, ſays a Mahometan, are uſeleſs. What they are. Letter from Priſcilla Sparkley, who is very angry at Womens being termed Manufactures Ditto, from a Love-ſick Apprentice. Ditto, from Pamphiophilus, relating the Conduct of the jilting Olivia.
  • No LXXIX. p. 180. Of a Bell that tolls of it ſelf. Dying Words of Sir Portly Rufus. Abſtract of Mrs E. Singer's Poem on the Death of her Husband.
  • No LXXX. p. 189. Of our modern Theatrical Performances. Shepherd in Newgate Caeſar in Aegypt, and its Author, remarked on. Engliſh Firmneſs of Face. In what our News-Writers differ from thoſe of France and Holland Some ſubſiſt from Gibbets Our Criminals not ſuffer'd to reſt, even when the Hangman and Surgeons have done with them. Further Remarks.
  • No LXXXI. p 196. Letter from J. H. a Mercer, complaining of the troubleſome Impertinence of certain unprofitable Female Cuſtomers. Ditto, from the Black Eunuch, animadverting on ſome indecent Liberties aſſumed by our Females. Ditto, from Eugenio, communicating his Dream or Viſion of Coquets, Prudes, Hibernians, Pretty Gentlemen, &c flocking to the Temple of Hymen.
  • []No LXXXII. p. 204. An applicable Story of Laplanders metamorphos'd into Bears. How they were Boarded by their Keepers. In what our Companies of Comedians differ from the South-Sea, Bank, and other acting Companies. How the firſt came to have only Directors, but no Governor. Conſequences of the Death of Mr. Rich, the former Patentee. Mr. Dennis chuſes a Play of Mr. Congreve's for his Benefit. Of Prejudice, and Dread of Criticks. This laſt inſtanced in a Bell-Man. Unreaſonable Prepoſſeſſion of ſome againſt Mr. Dennis. Exhortations to encourage that deſerving Gentleman.
  • No LXXXIII. p. 214. Of an Eaſtern Prince, who never met with Truth till he found it in a Cottage. Miniſters and Minions, in what they differ. Ariſtotle's Obſervation on Government. A Tyrannical Arab Governor dealt plainly with by a Dervice. Further Remarks on Miniſters, &c. Story of a Chineſe Emperor and his injured Subjects.
  • No LXXXIV. p. 223. The Effects of Pride and Vanity; which occaſion out deeming every triffing Diſappointment a Misfortune. Letter from B. B. intreating Counſel in an Affair wherein in there is a Struggle between Friendſhip and Gratitude. Of Friendſhip. Difference between it and its Shadow. What is ſaid of a Friend by Mr. Dryden and Mr. Spencer.
  • No LXXXV. p. 231. Letter, from Patricius, ſhewing and inſtancing that Trade is not only Profitable but Honourable; a Profeſſion preferable to either Arms or the Law; Defects and Abuſes in the latter. Obſervations on ſome Perſons of Birth, who want nothing elſe. Reply of a Man of Quality to a Trading Knight. What is to be wiſh'd. A remarkable and exemplary Paſſage of Queen Elizabeth, from Sir Walter Raleigh.
  • No LXXXVI. p. 240. Verſion of Solon's Diviſions of the Ages of Human Life. Notable Soliloquy of a Venetian Nobleman, concerning the Vanity of Life, and all Worldy Affairs.
  • []No LXXXVII. p. 249. Excellency of the Holy Scriptures, in Compariſon with other Writings. Reflexions on the bad Verſions thereof; and on the Majeſty of the Hebrew Poeſy; exemplified in Part of the 18th Pſalm, finely Engliſhed by Mr. Dennis, The ſame compared with a lofty Paſſage from the Iliad Farther Inſtances of the Sublimity of the Hebrew Stile, from Habakkuk; with Exhortations to read Divine Writ.
  • No LXXXVIII. p. 259. No Theme to write on more lofty than Storms and Shipwrecks; a Subject which has employ'd the moſt eminent Pens. Fine Examples from King David and Homer. Letter, from G. B—r, in Praiſe of Sailors, with a moving Relation of a Sea Captain and his Wife.
  • No LXXXIX p. 267. Letter, from J. W. grievouſly complaining of the immoderate Vertue of his Wife, who, becauſe ſhe does not Cuckold him, aſſumes the Liberty of uſing him outragiouſly. The Order of Angels, a proj [...]ct [...]d Society of Ladies; what they aim at therein. Other plaintive Letters.
  • No XC. p. 275. Letter, from Terentius, including a Diſcourſe how they deal, and ought to behave towards their Female Cuſtomers; deſcribing alſo the Methods uſed by Watermen to get a Fare, particularly thoſe they know to be not Londoners.
  • No XCI. p. 282. Verſes on Love, ſhewing that Paſſion to be undiſcribable. Letter, from C. K. being a Declaration of his Love for Emelia Picture of Death's Approaches. Farther Deſcription of Death. Ditto, beautifully delineated by Spencer.
  • No XCII p. 291. Letter, from Favonius, relating how he got into Favour with his churliſh Uncle; and how Folks get the Gout Letter, of Advice, with an Application, from Aminadab. Ditto, from Hezekiah Horney, asking Counſel how to proceed in a Caſe of Importance, Petition of Luke Thoroughſtitch, deſiring a Courſe may be taken with ſome Females Remarkers on the Goodneſs of his Stomach. Letter, from Gracchus, with ſatyrical Extracts [] from the Univerſal Paſſion, on worthleſs Lords, and rural 'Squires.
  • No XCIII. p. 300. Letter, from Aemilius, giving Account of the profound Knowledge his Miſtreſs has in Occult Sciences, with other remarkable Particulars.
  • No XCIV. p. 309. Mr. Rich's great Genius in a Scenary Way. His Deſign in attempting to reſtore Opera to its priſtine Dignity applauded. Diſcourſe on Muſick; with its different Effects. Verſes, on Muſick, by Randolph. The Extenſiveneſs of the Muſick of the Ancients, in Compariſon with that of Moderns, according to Dr. Wallis. The Subject continued.
  • No XCV. p. 317. Letter, from Francis Fairplay, treating of the unfair Practices of Cannon-Turners; with ſome notable Inſtances. A beautiful Lyric Ode, being a Verſion of the Song of Moſes, on the Deſtruction of the Egyptians in the Red-Sea.
  • No XCVI. p. 325. The dire Effects of exceſſive Drinking.
  • No XCVII. p. 333. Letter, from Humphrey Pickthank, declaring his Deſign of compil [...]ng a Hiſtory of the great Succeſs of Dedications in this encouraging Age. The Plain Dealer diſlikes the Subject, and why; Dedicators defined. Some Thoughts on the ſame. Paul Poorwit's Bill and Letter to the Earl of Widefield. Letter, from Novinda, deſiring to know where lies the much-talked of clean Turn of Wit, in a Copy of Verſes intitled, The Feather. Anſwer to the ſame.
  • No XXVIII. p. 342. Avarice, in the Great, odious, but Extortion in Judges moſt deteſtable. Sayings thereupon; with an Extract from a Pamphlet, intitled, The Caſe of Orphans, conſidered from Antiquity. Some Obſervations on Lord Bacon's Caſe. A Fable, which is not unapplicable.
  • No XCIX p. 349. Letter, from Colon, relating to Trade and Plantations; with a wiſe and conſcientious Report made to a Turkiſh Emperor by the Inſpectors ſent into Egypt to improve and encourage the Growth of Cotton. Ditto, [] with a Sonnet from Myrtillo, on his Miſtreſs; with certain Queries.
  • No C. p. 355. Letter, from Artemiſia, with Part of Plutarch's Conſolatory Epiſtle to his Wife, on the Death of their young Daughter.
  • No CI. p. 365. Letter from R. S. acquainting the Plain Dealer with a Converſation during his Abſence, at his own uſual Club; what Company was there. A Parallel between a Plain Dealer and a Rough Dealer; with entertaining Arguments, pro and con, upon that and other Subjects.
  • No CII. p. 373. Letter, from Sylvio, impatient for an Anſwer fom his Miſtreſs, yet dares not put the Queſtion. Moneyleſs Merit diſregarded by moſt of the Women of this Age; ſuch as think better have ſeldom the Liberty of making their own Choice. Avarice of Parents. All theſe attended with the worſt Effects. Advice to young Ladies, whoſe Fortunes and Perſons are at their own Diſpoſal. Ditto, from Timoret, of the deplorable Transformation at Button's Coffee-Houſe. Ditto, from Pugg, relating the Tranſmigrations he has undergone.
  • No CIII. p. 382. Letter, from Philotheus, relating the Superſtitious Reports made him concerning a reputed Witch, whom he viſited. Ditto, from Politicus, ſhewing the Roman and Britiſh Women and Senates to be very analogous.
  • No CIV. p. 391. Pictures and Deſcriptions of the Devil, by Taſſo, Sir Richard Blackmore, Mr. Milton and Homer, remarked on.
  • No CV. p. 399. The Origin of Jealouſy. Part of a Letter from an Anonymous Lady, incloſing one to her, from Angeletta, owning the reſiſtleſs Inclination ſhe has towards her Friend's Husband; being a beautiful Inſtance of Friendſhip's Triumph over a criminal Paſſion. Encomium thereon. Ditto, from Shuttlecock Flutterwing; an Original; with proper Animadverſions.
  • []No CVI. p. 407. Noble Character of Peter the Great, late Czar of Ruſſia. Extracts of a Panegyrick on that prodigious Genius, intituled, The Northern Star, a Poem.
  • No CVII. p. 416. Letter, from Conſtantius, with Verſes, both in rapturous Praiſe of the Perfections of his Miſtreſs, the lovely Belladora. Obſervation thereon.
  • No CVIII. p. 423. Smart and reſolute Reply of a young Prince to Soladin, Sultan of Egypt, who had him abſolutely in his Power. Diſcourſe in Praiſe of Reſolution, and of the evil Effects of Irreſolution.
  • No CIX. p. 431. Letter from an Anonymous Author, inſinuating the Uſefulneſs and other Advantages of Criticiſm; that Homer's Catalogue of the Grecian Ships will bear it, and why; what an ill Precedent he has given to his Succeſſors; inſtanced particularly in Drayton's Catalogue of an Engliſh Fleet ſent againſt France, which, tho' bald and dry, is in ſome reſpects preferable to Homer's; compared with ſome old Engliſh Epitaphs; in one of which it appears, that Sir Edward North was made a Lord for his Vertue! Another Original Epitaph, which will very well bear Criticiſm.
  • No CX. p. 438. Letter, from Claraſtella, cured of her growing Paſſion for Florello by reading his Character in the Univerſal Paſſion. Ditto, from P A. complaining of the Freedoms a Lady he admires allows to her Monkey. A Quere anſwered. Complaint againſt a certain Husband-wanting Widow's Reſolution.
  • No CXI p. 446. Letter, from Philotheus, reflecting on the amazing Work of the Creation, &c. with a fine Diſcourſe on the Subject, from the Religion of Nature delineated.
  • No CXII. p. 452. The primitive Deſign of Taverns. How corrupted. Some unhappy Fruits of drinking to Exceſs. An applicable Viſion.
  • []No CXIII. p. 460. Continuation of the Viſion.
  • No CXIV. p. 169. The Nothingneſs of Human Life. A Saying of St. Auſtin on that Topick. Verſion of a Latin Inſcription on the Monument of a Duke of Brunſwick. Epitaph of a Roman Officer, Engliſh'd. Ditto, in Latin, with its Engliſh Verſion on the renowned Peter Alexowitz, late Emperor of Ruſſia. Notable Sentences.
  • No CXV. p. 475. Letter, from Delia, complaining, That her Lover has forſaken her. Ditto, from Ned Mournful, characterizing his deceaſed Friend. Ditto, from George Gardener, giving Account of his having travelled up to Town purpoſely to ſee the Plain Dealer.
  • No CXVI. p. 483. Letter in Commendation of Shakeſpeare's Poems, which are not commonly ſold with his Dramatick Performances. Two beautiful Extracts from his Tarquin and Lucretia.
  • No CXVII. The Plain Dealer takes Leave of his Readers. His Reaſon for the ſame. Marrying Patty Amble. Rally'd thereupon by a pert Friend. His Advice to the Sneerer in Return. Uſual Conduct of our modern Fine Gentlemen, or Marriage-Haters. When the Common Forms of Civility are Cenſurable, and when Laudable.

Appendix B A CATALOGUE of BOOKS Printed for and Sold by A. Betteſworth, at the Red-Lion in Pater-Noſter-Row.

[]
 l.s.d.
A   
ATalantis, 4. Vol. 12ves.000900
Apuleius's Golden Aſs, 2 Vol. 12ves.000600
Atlas Manuale: Or, A Sett of ſmall Maps. By Moll. 8vo.000500
Athenian Oracle, now in the Preſs, 8vo.   
Acta Regia: Or, An Abridgment of Mr. Rymer's Foedera. Publiſh'd Monthly, at 1 s. each.   
Apollo's Feaſt, 12ves.000100
Art of Pleaſing in Converſation, in French and Engliſh. By Cardinal Richlieu. 12ves.000300
Agreeable Variety, 8vo.000306
Art of Thinking. Tranſlated by Ozell. 12ves.000306
Arabian Nights Entertainment, Compleat, 6 Vol. 12ves.001500
Abridgment Statutes, 6 Vol. 8vo.011000
Addiſon's Travels, 12ves.000300
Addiſon's Works, 3 Vol. 12ves.000900
Addiſon's Works, 4 Vol. 4to.030000
Accompliſh'd Conveyancer, 3 Vol. 8vo.001800
B   
BRidgman's Conveyancer, Folio.011000
Biſhop Blackhall's Works, 2 Vol. Folio.011200
Biſhop Burnet on the Thirty nine Articles, Folio.001200
Biſhop Burnet Abridgment of his Hiſtory of the Reformation, 3 Vol. 12ves.000900
Dr. Barrow's Works, 2 Vol. Fol.020200
Book of Homiles, Folio, 1726.001200
Boyce on the Thirty nine Articles, Folio.000900
Burnet's Theory of the Earth, 2 Vol. 8vo.001200
Dr. Bates Works, Folio, 1724.010706
Burnet's (Dr. Thomas) Sermons at Boyle's Lectures, for the Years 1724, 1725, 2 Vol.000900
Burnet's (Dr. Thomas) Eſſay upon Government, 8vo.000106
Burnet's (Dr. Thomas) Scripture Trinity, 8vo.000200
Blackmore's (Sir Richard) Eſſays, 2 Vol. 8vo.001100
Blackmore's (Sir Richard) Creation, a Poem, 12ves.000200
Blackmore's (Sir Richard) Redemption, a Poem; being a Supplement to the Creation, 8vo.000400
Buchanan's Hiſtory of Scotland, 2 Vol. Engliſh, with curious Cuts, 8vo.001100
Boyer's French and Engliſh Dictionary, 8vo.000700
Boyer's Telemachus, 2 Vol. 12ves.000506
Bailey's Etymological Engliſh Dictionary000700
Bailey's Tranſlation of Eraſmus Colloquies.000506
Bruyere's Works, 2 Vol. Tranſlated from the French, 8vo.000900
Betterton's Life with the Amorous Widow.000306
Behn's Novels, 2 Vol. 12ves.000500
Behn's Plays, 4 Vol. 12ves.001200
Boerhave's Aphoriſms, Tranſlated into Engliſh, 8vo.000506
Mrs. Barker's Novels, 2 Vol. 12ves.000500
Mrs. Barker's Patchwork Screen, 2 Vol. 12ves.000500
Britiſh Apollo, 3 Vol. 12ves. containing two Thouſhand Anſwers to Curious Queſtions in moſt Arts and Sciences, 12ves.000900
[2]Britiſh Compendium: Containing the Deſcents of the Engliſh, Scotch, and Iriſh Nobility, with their Arms curiouſly Engraven, 3 Vols. 12ves.010206
Builders Dictionary, 8vo.000400
Dr. Brown of Cold Baths. 12ves.000106
Boileau's Art of Poetry, 4 Canto's, 12ves.000100
Boileau's Lutrin: An Heroi-Comical Poem.000106
Bulſtrode (Whitlock) Eſſays, 8vo.000406
Bridges of Fractions, 12ves.000100
Bradley's New Improvements in Planting and Gardening, 8vo.000606
Byſhe's Art of Poetry, 2 Vol.000500
Blackmore's Eccleſiaſtical Antiquity, abridg'd from Bingham, 2 Vol.001100
Ball's Aſtrology improv'd000200
Burkett of the New Teſtament, Folio.010300
Beveridge's Private Thoughts, 8vo.000900
Beveridge's Ditto, 12ves.000106
Beveridge's Prayer, 8vo.000306
Beveridge's Ditto, 12ves.000106
Blackmore on Conſumptions, 8vo.000306
Blackmore on the Spleen000506
Blackmore on the Gout and Rheumatiſm000306
Blackmore on the Vapours.000406
Bingham's Antiquities, 2 Vols. Folio.021000
Brown (Tho.) Works, 5 Vols. 12ves.001206
Biſhop's Sermons at Lady Moyer's Lecture, 8vo.000500
Baynard of Hot and Cold Baths, 8vo.000506
C   
CAſſandra: A fam'd Romance, 5 Vols. 12ves001500
Cook of Foreſt Trees, 8vo.000306
Biſhop Cumberland, De Legibus Naturae, 8vo.000600
Cato's Letters, 4 Vols. 12ves001000
Cave's Primitive Chriſtianity, 8vo.000406
Calamy's (Benj.) Sermons, 8vo.000406
Clark's Body of Divinity, 2 Vol. 8vo.000900
Cocker's Engliſh Dictionary, 8vo.000200
Cocker's Decimal Arithmetick, 8vo.000306
Counteſs of Morton's Devotions, 24s.000006
Dr. Comber's Companion to the Altar, 8vo.000406
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Libri in Uſum Scholarum.
  • BAiley's Ovid's Metamorphoſis, 8vo.
  • Bailey's Ovid De Triſtibus, 12ves.
  • Bailey's Phaedrus, 8vo.
  • Bailey's Cato, 12ves.
  • Bailey's Exerciſes, Engliſh and Latin, 12ves.
  • Bailey's Exercitia Latina: Or, Latin for Garrerſon's Exerciſes, 12ves.
  • Busby's Greek Grammar, 8vo.
  • Busby's Engliſh Introduction to the Latin Tongue.
  • Busby's Syntaxis Eraſmiana Conſtrictior, 8vo.
  • Busby's Ditto, Conſtrued, 8vo.
  • Beza's Latin Teſtament, 12ves and 24o.
  • [11]Clavis Homerica, 8vo.
  • Clark's Introduction to the making of Latin
  • Clark's Florus, 8vo.
  • Clark's Nepos, 8vo.
  • Clark's Eutropius, 8vo. All with Literal Tranſlations.
  • Clark's Eraſmus, 12 ves. All with Literal Tranſlations.
  • Clark's Corderius 12ves. All with Literal Tranſlations.
  • Caſtalio's Latin Bible, in 4 neat Vols.
  • Caſtalio's Latin Teſtament, 12ves.
  • Cornelius Nepos, 12ves.
  • Celſar, 12ves.
  • Demoſthenes, 12ves
  • Dyche's Vocabulary, 8vo.
  • Dyche's Youth's Guide to the Latin Tongue, 12ves.
  • Dyche's Engliſh Particles Latiniz'd, 8vo.
  • Dyche's Phaedrus, 12ves.
  • Electa Majora, 8vo.
  • Electa Minora, 8vo.
  • Eutropius, 12ves.
  • Epigrammatum Delectus, 12ves.
  • Eraſmus, Dublin, 12ves.
  • Familiar Form, 12ves.
  • Farnaby's Rhetorick, 8vo. Engliſh and Latin.
  • Garretſon's Engliſh Exerciſes, 12ves.
  • Gradus ad Parnaſſum, 8vo.
  • Gregory's Nomenclatura, 8vo.
  • Hederici Lexicon, 4to.
  • Homeri Ilias, Greek and Latin, 8vo.
  • Helvici Colloquia, 12ves.
  • Hoadley's Phaedrus, 12ves.
  • Horace, 12ves. ſine Notis.
  • King's Heathen Gods, 12ves.
  • Lock's Aeſop Interlineary, Engliſh and Latin.
  • Leed's Greek Grammar, 12ves.
  • London Vocabulary, by Greenwood, 12ves.
  • Leuſden's Compendium, 8vo.
  • Martialis Epigrammata, 12ves.
  • More's Engliſh Examples, for the Uſe of Bury School, 8vo.
  • Pantheon. By Tooke, 8vo. with Cuts.
  • Phaedrus Delphini, 8vo.
  • Ray's Nomenclatura. 8vo.
  • Royal Grammar, 12ves.
  • Urmſton's Help to the Accidence, 8vo.
  • Urmſton's London Spelling Book, 12ves.
  • Walker's Art of Teaching, 12ves.
  • Walker's Engl. Examples, 12ves.
  • Walker's Particles, 8vo.
  • Wettenhall's Gr. Grammar, 12ves.
  • Well's Dionyſius, 8vo.
  • Ware's Practical Grammar, 8vo.
  • Xenophon de Cyri Inſtitutione, Greek and Latin.
  • Moſt of the Claſſicks in Uſum Delphini.

Appendix C BOOKS lately publiſh'd.

[12]
  • I. THE Entertaining Novels of Mrs. Jane Barker. Containing, 1. Exil [...]us: Or, The Baniſh'd Roman. 2. Clelia and Marcellus: Or, The Conſtant Lovers. 3. The Reward of Virtue: Or, The Adventures of Clarinthia and Lyſander. 4. The Lucky Eſcape: Or, The Fate of Iſmenus. 5. Clodius and Scipiana: Or, The Beautiful Captive. 6. Piſo: Or, The Leud Courtier. 7. The Happy Recluſe: Or, The Charms of Liberty. 8. The Fair Widow: Or, Falſe Friend. 9. The Amours of B [...]ſvill and Galeſia. The 2d. Edition. In 2 Vols. Price 5 s.
  • II. A Patchwork Screen for the Ladies: Or, Love and Virtue recommended, in a Collection of Inſtructive Novels, related after a Manner entirely New, and interſpers'd with Rural Poems, deſcribing the Innocence of a Country Life. Price 2 s. 6d.
  • III. A Lining for the Patchwork Screen: Deſigned for the farther Entertainment of the Ladies. Price 2 s. 6 d. Theſe Two by Mrs. Barker.
  • IV. The Life of Charlotta du Pont, an Engliſh Lady, taken from her own Memoirs: Giving an Account how ſhe was trapa [...]d by her Step-Mother to Virginia; how the Ship was taken by ſome Madagaſcar Pyrates, and retaken by a Spaniſh Man of War; of her Marriage in the Spaniſh Weſt-Indies, and Adventures while ſhe reſided there, with her Return to England; and the Hiſtory of ſeveral Gentlemen and Ladies whom ſhe met withal in her Travels, ſome of whom had been Slaves in Barbary, and others caſt on Shore on the Barbarous Coaſts up the great River Oroonoque; with their Eſcape thence, and ſafe Return to France and Spain. A Hiſtory that contains the greateſt Variety of Events ever yet publiſh'd. By Mrs. Aubin. Price 2 s.
  • V. The Tragical Hiſtory of the Chevalier de Vaudray and the Counteſs de Vergi. In Two Parts. To which is annex'd a ſhort Novel, entitled, The Inhuman Husband. Done from the French by Mr. Morgan. Price 2 s.
  • VI. The Agreeable Variety: Being a miſcellaneous Collection in Proſe and Verſe, from the Works of the moſt Celebrated Authors. In Two Parts, viz. Part I. Containing Inſtructive Diſcourſes on the moſt uſeful Subjects, for the happy Conduct of human Life. 2. Characters of the moſt Illuſtrious Perſonages of both Sexes, of our own, and other Nations, particularly the remarkable Manner of Life of the excellent Princeſs of Parma. Written by herſelf, and found among her Papers after her Deceaſe. 3. Choice Poems, and Select Paſſages, extracted from the moſt Celebrated Poets. Part II Containing Original Poems; Sixty familiar Letters upon Education, Love, Friendſhip, &c. none of which ever before Publiſh'd. The Whole Collected and Publiſh'd by a Lady. Price 3 s. 6 d. The 2d Edition.
  • VII. Miſcellanea Aurea: Or, The Golden Medley. Conſiſting of, 1. A Voyage to the Mountains of the Moon, under the Aequator: Or, Parnaſſus reform'd. 2. The Fortunate Ship-wreck: Or, A Deſcription of New Athens, being an Account of the Laws, Manners, Religion, and Cuſtoms of that Country. By Morris Williams, Gent. who reſided there above twenty Years. 3. Alberoni: Or, A Vindication of that Cardinal. 4. The Secret Hiſtory of the Amours of Don Alonzo Duke of Lerma, and Grandee of Spain. 5. The Garden of Adonis: Or, Love to no Purpoſe; being about twenty Copies of Verſes and Love Letters. By a Lady. 6. Mahomet no Impoſtor; written in Arabick, by Abdulla-Mahunied Omer. 7. An Account or Bid and Good Women, antient and modern. With ſeveral other Epiſtolary Eſſays in Proſe and Verſe. By Mr. Milton; the Lady W—, Mr. Philips, and ſeveral Others. In Octavo. Price 4 s.
  • [13]VIII. The four Years Voyage of Captain George Roberts; Being a Series of uncommon Events, which befel him in a Voyage to the Iſlands of the Canaries, Cape de Verde, and Barbadoes, from whence he was bound to the Coaſt of Guinea; the Manner of his being taken by three Pirate Ships, Commanded by Low, Ruſſel,, and Spriggs, who after having plundered him, and detained him ten Days, put him aboard his own Sloop without Proviſions, Water, &c. and with only two Boys, one of eighteen, and the other of eight Years of Age; the Hardſhips he endured for above twenty Days, till he arriv'd at the Iſland of St. Nicholas, from whence he was blown off to Sea (before he could get any Suſtenance) without his biggeſt Boy and Boat, whom he had ſent aſhore; and after four Days Difficulty and Diſtreſs, was Ship-wreck'd on the unfrequented Iſland of St. John; where, after he had remained near two Years, he built a Veſſel to bring himſelf off. With a particular and curious Deſcription and Draught of the Cape de Verd Iſlands, their Roads, anchoring Places, Nature and Production of the Soil; the Kindneſs and Hoſpitality of the Natives to Strangers, their Religion, Manners, Cuſtoms, and Superſtitions, &c. Together with Obſervations on the Minerals, Mineral Waters, Metals, and Salts, and of the Nitre, with which ſome of thoſe Iſlands abound. Written by himſelf now living at Shad-Thames, 1726. Price 5 s.
  • IX. The Travels of an Engliſh Gentleman from London to Rome on Foot: Containing a Comical Deſcription of what he met with Remarkable in every City, Town, and Religious Houſe, in his whole Journey: Alſo an Account of their ridiculous Proceſſions, and Ceremonies, in their Churches, through their Streets, and in the Woods. Likewiſe the Debauch'd Lives, and Amorous Intriegues of the Prieſts and Nuns: With a pleaſant Account of the Opening the Holy Gate of St. Peter's Church. Alſo Reflections upon the Superſtition and Foppiſh Pageantry of the whole Ceremony of the laſt Grand Jubilee at Rome. The 4th Edition. Now Publiſh'd for the Diverſion and Information of the Proteſtants of England. Price 1 s. 6 d.
  • X. Saduciſſimus Triumphatus: Or, A full and plain Evidence concerning Witches and Apparitions. In Two Parts. The Firſt treating of their Poſſibility; the Second of their real Exiſtence. By Joſeph Glanvill, Chaplain in Ordinary to King Charles II. and F. R. S. The 4th Edition, with Additions. With ſome Account of Mr. Glanvill's Life and Writings. Price 6 s. 1726.
  • XI. The Works of the Honourable Sir Philip Sidney, Knt. In Proſe and Verſe. Containing, 1. The Counteſs of Pembroke's Arcadia. 2. The Defence of Poeſy. 3. Aſtrophel and Stella. 4. The Remedy of Love. 5. The Lady of May: A Maſque. 6. The Life of the Author. The 14th Edition. In Three Vols. 8vo. 1725. Price 13 s. 6 d.
  • XII. The New Deſcription and Preſent State of the Kingdom of France. Containing, 1. An Hiſtorical Account of its Kings, their Antiquity, Prerogatives, &c. With a Deſcription of all the Royal Palaces, and of the Paintings, Statues, and other Curioſities therein contained. 2. Of the Parliament, and all Officers, Civil and Military, belonging to his Majeſty, and the Princes of the Blood. 3. Of the Biſhopricks, other Church Dignities, Monaſteries, and Clergy; of the Univerſities, Faculties therein ſtudied, and of the French Academy. 4. The Peerage of France; the three Orders of Knighthood; the Nobility and Marſhals; and the Coats of Arms of each reſpective Family truly Emblazoned. 5. A Deſcription of the City of Paris, and all the Publick Buildings, Churches, Libraries, and Collection of Rarities, and whatſoever elſe is remarkable. 6. The Roads from one Town to another, with the exact Diſtances from Place to Place, not only in France, but from thence through Spain, Italy, Germany, and the Netherlands. In Two Volumes, 12ves. The 2d Edition, 1726. Price 6 s.
  • [14]XIII. Mechanical Eſſays on the Animal Oeconomy; wherein not only the Conduct of Nature in Animal Secretion, but Senſation and human Generation, are diſtinctly conſider'd, and Anatomically explain'd; as alſo the particular Manner of the Operation of a Medicine is accounted for, and many other Curious and Uncommon Subjects are treated of; neceſſary for all that ſtudy Nature, and particularly thoſe that make Phyſick or Surgery their Practice. By James Handley, Surgeon, Author of Colloquia Chirurgica, 8vo. Price 5 s.
  • XIV. England's Intereſt: Or, The Gentleman and Farmer's Friend: Shewing 1. How Land may be improv'd from 20s. to 8 l. and ſo to 100 l. per Acre, per Annum, with great Eaſe, and for an inconſiderable Charge. 2. The beſt and quickeſt Way of raiſing a Nurſery. 3. How to make Cyder, Perry, Cherry, Currant, Gooſeberry, Mulberry, and Birch Wiues, as Strong and Wholſome as French and Spaniſh Wines; and the Cyders and Wines ſo made to be ſold at 3d. per Quart, tho' as good as Wine now ſold for 18 d. 4. Directions for Brewing the fineſt Malt Liquors, better and cheaper than hitherto known. 5. Inſtructions for Breeding Horſes, Husbandry of Bees, and ordering Fiſh and Fiſh-Ponds. Laſtly, Phyſick for Families; containing many uſeful Medicines for ſeveral Diſtempers, particularly the Plague. By Sir J. Moore, 12 ves. Price 1 s. 6 d.
  • XV. Engliſh Liberties: Or, The Free-born Subject's Inheritance. Containing Magna Charta, Charta de Foreſta, the Statute de Tallagio non Concedendo, the Habeas Corpus Act; with ſeveral other Statutes, and Comments on each of them: Likewiſe the Proceedings in Appeals of Murder, of Ship-Money, of Tunnage and Poundage, of Parliaments, of the Three Eſtates, and of the Settlement of the Crown by Parliament. Together with a ſhort Hiſtory of the Succeſſion, not by any Hereditary Right; alſo a Declaration of the Liberty of the Subject, the Petition of Right; with a ſhort, but impartial Relation of the Difference between King Charles I. and the Long Parliament; of Tryals by Juries, and of the Qualifications of Jurors, their Puniſhment for Misbehaviour, and of Challenges to them. Laſtly, Of Juſtices of the Peace, Coroners, Conſtables, Church-Wardens, Overſeers of the Poor, Surveyors of the Highway, &c. With many Law-Caſes throughout the Whole. Compiled firſt by Henry Care, and now continued with large Additions. By W. Nelſon, of the Middle-Temple, Eſq The 4th Edition. Price 4 s. 6 d.
  • XVI. A Crown of Glory, the Reward of the Righteous: Being Meditations upon the Viciſſitude and Uncertainty of all Sublunary Enjoyments, viz. 1. Honour, Riches, and Pleaſure. 2. The Nature and Cauſe of Afflictions. 3. The great Benefit of Afflictions. 4. Of our Reſignation to the Will of God. To which is added, A Manual of Devotions for Times of Trouble and Affliction; alſo Meditations and Prayers for the Holy Communion, both before, at, and after receiving; with ſome general Rules and Directions for our Daily Practice. Compos'd for the Uſe of a Noble Family. By the Right Reverend Dr. Thomas Kenn, late Lord Biſhop of Bath and Wells. Price 2 s. 6d.
  • XVII. The Devout Chriſtian's Hourly Companion: Conſiſting of Holy Prayers, and Divine Meditations. Done into Engliſh from that Spiritual Drexelius. The 3d Edition, in 12ves. Price 1 s.
  • XVIII. The Gentleman Angler: Containing ſhort, plain, and eaſy Inſtructions, whereby the moſt ignorant Beginner may, in a little Time, become a perfect Artiſt in Argling for Salmon, Salmon-Peal, Trout, Pike, Carp, Perch, Barbell, Tench, Bream, Chub, Greyling, Mullets, Flounders, Roach, Dace, Gudgeon, &c. With ſeveral Obſervations on Angling, Angle-Rods, and Artificial Flies; how to chooſe the beſt Hair, and Indian Graſs; of the proper Times and Seaſons for River and Pond Fithing. To which is added, The Angler's new Song, the Laws of Angling, and the Form of a [15] Licence and Deputation for Angling. Together with an Appendix: Containing the Method of Rock and Sea Fiſhing; an Explanation of Technical Words uſed in the Art of Angling; choice Receipts for dreſſing Fiſh; and how to improve Barren Ground, by turning it into Fiſh-Ponds. By a Gentleman, who made Angling his Diverſion upwards of twenty eight Years, 1726. Price 1 s. 6 d.
  • XIX. A Practical Diſcourſe of Religious Aſſemblies, under the following Heads: 1. Of Religion in general. 2. What Religious Worſhip is. 3. Of Publick Worſhip, and the Danger of forſaking Publick Aſſemblies. 4. The Seaſonableneſs of this Diſcourſe. 5. Concerning Speculative Atheiſts. 6. The Inclination of Human Nature to Religious Worſhip. 7. Atheiſts ſhould not wholly forſake Religious Aſſemblies. 8. Nor intermeddle in the Diſputes of Religion. 9. Concerning the Practical Atheiſt. 10. The Danger of Irreligion, both with reſpect to this World and the next. 11. Concerning Parochial Communion. 12. Concerning the Neglect of the Publick Prayers of the Church. 13. Concerning the great Neglect of the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper. By William Sherlock, D. D. late Dean of St. Paul's. The 4th Edition, 1726. Price 4 s.
  • XX. Spiritual Communion Recommended and Enforced from Scripture, from the Primitive Fathers and Councils, from Reaſon, and from Experience, in an Examination and Defence of the Doctrine, Worſhip, Rites, and Ceremonies of the Church of England. In Two Parts. By a Lay Hand, 8vo. 1725. Price 2 s. 6 d.
  • XXI. Arithmetick in the Plaineſt and moſt Conciſe Method hitherto extant; with new Improvements for Diſpatch of Buſineſs in all the ſeveral Rules; as alſo Fractions, Vulgar and Decimal, wrought together after a new Method that renders both eaſy to be underſtood in their Nature and Uſe. The Whole peruſed and approved of by the moſt Eminent Accomptants in the ſeveral Offices of the Revenues, viz. Cuſtoms, Exciſe, &c. as the only Book of its Kind, for Variety of Rules, and Brevity of Work. By Geo. Fiſher, Accomptant. The 2d Edition, with large Additions and Improvements, 12ves. 1725. Price 2 s. 6 d.
  • XXII. A new Method of treating Conſumptions; wherein all the Decays incident to Human Bodies are mechanically accounted for, with ſome Conſiderations, touching the Difference between Conſumptions, and thoſe Decays that naturally attend Old Age. To which are added, Arguments in Defence of the Poſſibility of curing Ulcers in the Lungs; as alſo Reaſons demonſtrating that the irregular Diſcharges of all the Evacuations in Conſumptions, ariſe from the Reſiſtance of the Heart not decaying in a ſimple Proportion to the Reſiſtance of the other Parts. 8vo. Price 5s.
  • XXIII. A compleat Treatiſe of the Gravel and Stone, with all their Cauſes, Symptoms and Cures accounted for. To which are added, Propoſitions demonſtrating that the Stone may be ſafely diſſolved without any Detriment to the Body, drawn from Reaſon, Experiments, and Anatomical Obſervations. The 2d Edition, with large Additions. 8vo. Price 4s. Theſe two by Nicholas Robinſon, M. D.
  • XXIV. An Eſſay towards a Natural Hiſtory of the Earth, and Terreſtrial Bodies, eſpecially Minerals; as alſo of the Sea, Rivers, and Springs: With an Account of the Univerſal Deluge, and of the Effects it had on the Earth. By John Woodward, M. D. Profeſſor of Phyſick in Greſham College. The 3d Edition. Price 4s.
  • [16]XXV. The Demonſtration of True Religion, in a Chain of Conſequences from certain and undeniable Principles; wherein the Neceſſity and Certainty of Natural and Revealed Religion, with the Nature and Reaſon of both are proved and explained; and in particular the Authority of the Chriſtian Revelation is eſtabliſhed, not only from the Natures and Reaſons of Things, but alſo from the Relation it bears to the Scriptures of the Old Teſtament. In 16 Sermons preached at Bow Church in the Years 1724, and 1725, for the Lecture founded by the Honourable Robert Boyle, Eſq In two Volumes, 8vo. Price 9 s.
  • XXVI. An Eſſay upon Government: Or, The Natural Notions of Government, demonſtated in a Chain of Conſequences from the fundamental Principles of Society. By which all the niceſt Caſes of Conſcience relating to Government, may be, and many of them are here reſolved, with reſpect to the Authority of Government in general, the End and Manner of making and executing Laws, the Meaſures of Submiſſion to Princes, and the Lawfulneſs or Unlawfulneſs of Revolutions; in a Method altogether new. Price 1 s. 6d. The two laſt by Thomas Burnett, D. D. Prebendary of Sarum, and Rector of Weſthington in Wiltſhire.
  • PLAYS, on Elzevir Letter, at One Shilling each.
    • ABramule,
    • All for Love,
    • Anatomiſt,
    • Ambitious Stepmother,
    • Artful Husband,
    • Artful Wife,
    • Beaux's Stratagem,
    • Beaux's Duel,
    • Beggar's Buſh,
    • Biter,
    • Boarding School,
    • Bold Strike for a Wife.
    • Bri [...]on,
    • Buſiris,
    • Buſy Body,
    • Caius Marius,
    • Campaign,
    • Careleſs Husband,
    • Cato,
    • Chances,
    • Committee,
    • Conſcious Lovers,
    • Country Wife,
    • Sir Courtly Nice,
    • Cruel Gift,
    • Devil of a Wife,
    • Diſtreſs'd Mother,
    • Don Sebaſtian,
    • Double Gallant,
    • Drummer,
    • Duke of Glouceſter,
    • Earl of Eſſex,
    • Aeſop,
    • Fair Penitent,
    • Fair Quaker of Deal,
    • Fall of Saguntum,
    • Fatal Marriage,
    • Gameſter,
    • Ha [...]ot,
    • Hob,
    • Humours of Purgatory,
    • Jane Shore,
    • Jane Gray,
    • Inconſtant,
    • Ignoramus,
    • Iſland Princeſs,
    • King Lear,
    • London Cuckolds,
    • Love and a Bottle,
    • Love for Money,
    • Love makes a Man,
    • Love's laſt Shift,
    • Mariamne,
    • Meaſure for Meaſure,
    • Merry Wives of Windſor,
    • Northern Heireſs,
    • Northern Laſs,
    • Oroonoko,
    • Orphan,
    • Othello,
    • Phaedra and Hippolitus,
    • Pilgrim,
    • Plain Dealer,
    • Provok'd Wife,
    • Recruiting Officer,
    • Rehearſal and Chances,
    • Relapſe,
    • Revenge,
    • Royal Convert,
    • Rule a Wife,
    • She Gallant,
    • Sauney the Scot,
    • She wou'd and ſhe wou'd'nt,
    • She wou'd if ſhe cou'd,
    • Siege of Damaſcus,
    • Sophonisba,
    • Spartan Dame,
    • 'Squire of Alſatia,
    • Tamerlane,
    • Theodoſius,
    • Tunbridge Wells,
    • Twin-Rivals,
    • Venice preſerv'd,
    • Ulyſſes,
    • Sir Walter Raleigh,
    • Wife's Excuſe.
    • Wonder.
  • With great Variety of Plays, Poetry, Novels, &c.
Notes
*
Note. An Arompo is a Man-Eater; whence, no doubt, our Engl [...]ſh Word, ROMP: A private Remark, by the bye, for the particular Uſe and Inſtruction of the Lively Mrs. Laetitia Gambol!
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Citation Suggestion for this Object
TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 5200 The plain dealer being select essays on several curious subjects relating to friendship poetry and other branches of polite literature Publish d originally in the year 1724 And now first col. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5937-3