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 collected into two volumes. ... [pt.2]

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- The Plain Dealer. No 101. MONDAY, March 8. 1725.

- The Plain Dealer. No 102 FRIDAY, March 12. 1725.

- The Plain Dealer. No 103. MONDAY, March 15. 1725.

- The Plain Dealer. No 104. FRIDAY, March 19. 1725.

- The Plain Dealer. No 105 MONDAY, March 22. 1725.

- The Plain Dealer. No 106. FRIDAY, March 26. 1725.

- The Plain Dealer. No 107. MONDAY, March 29. 1725.

- The Plain Dealer. No 108. FRIDAY, April 2. 1725.

- The Plain Dealer. No 109. MONDAY, April 5. 1725.

- The Plain Dealer. No. 110. FRIDAY, April 9. 1725.

- The Plain Dealer. No 111 MONDAY, April 12. 1725.

- The Plain Dealer. No 112. FRIDAY, April 16. 1725.

- The Plain Dealer. No 113. MONDAY, April 19. 1725. The VISION continued.

- The Plain Dealer. No 114. FRIDAY, April 23. 1725.

- The Plain Dealer. No 115. MONDAY, April 26. 1725.

- The Plain Dealer. No. 116. MONDAY, May 3. 1725.

- The Plain Dealer. No 117. FRIDAY, May 7. 1725.

- THE CONTENTS OF THE Second VOLUME.

- A CATALOGUE of BOOKS Printed for and Sold by A. Bettesworth, at the Red-Lion in Pater-Noster-Row.

- BOOKS lately publish'd.

FINIS.

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 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.

Octob. 8. 1724.
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 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 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, 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 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.

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 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 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.

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 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!

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.

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. —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 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 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.

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 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 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.

—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 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.

October the 7th. 1724.
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, 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. 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 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 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.

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.

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.

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 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 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, 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 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.

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 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 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 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, 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.

—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 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.

October 12, 1724.
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 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.

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.

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, 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 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.

—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 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 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.

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 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 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.

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, 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, 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 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 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 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 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 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.

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.

Per varios Casus, per tot Discrimina Rerum,

Tendimus—

VIRG.

To the PLAIN DEALER.

Edinburgh, October 8, 1724.
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 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 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 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 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 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, 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 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 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.

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.

October 17, 1724.
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 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.

'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 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 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! 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 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.

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 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.

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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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.

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: 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 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 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 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, 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.

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.

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 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!

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.

—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.

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 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 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.

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, 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 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.

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, 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 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.

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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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?— 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 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 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.

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 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.

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!

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 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.

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.

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 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 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.

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 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 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 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 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 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.

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.

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. 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 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 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.

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.

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.

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 (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.

—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 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?

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 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;

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!

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.

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.

—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 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 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 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 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.

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 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.

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.

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. 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 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, 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 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 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 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.

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!

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!
↵

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

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 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 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 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 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!

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 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 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 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 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.’

High-Holbourn, Nov. 27. 1724.
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.

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.

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, 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,— 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.

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, 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 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.

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 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.

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 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!

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!

"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.

—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, 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, 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, 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.

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! 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, 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.

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.

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 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 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, 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.

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. 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 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.

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 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!

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 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.

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 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 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.

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, 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 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.

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, 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 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— 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 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. 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, 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.

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 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.

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 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, 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.

Fleet-street, Decem. 16. 1724.
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 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 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.

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!

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.

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?

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, 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 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 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 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.
Jan. 5th 1725.

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.

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 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, 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.

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 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.

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 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 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, 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 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; 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.— 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.

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 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 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— 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, 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, 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 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.

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.

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!

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.

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 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.

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!

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.

Will's Coffee-House, Cornhill.
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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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 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.

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, 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.

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 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.

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.

{inverted ⁂}P.S. Do not forget to have this Printed.

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

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.

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 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, 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, 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.

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 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 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 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.

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.

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 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.

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; 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 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.
Inner-Temple, January the 16th, 1724. 25.

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.

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 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 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.

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 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 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, 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.

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!

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.

Somnia, terrores magicos, miracula, sagas,

Nocturnos lemures, portentaque Thessala!—

To the PLAIN DEALER.

Cambridge, January 23, 1725.
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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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; 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 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.

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 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 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!

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 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, 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 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.

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 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.

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!

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.

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.

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,

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:

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.

—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.

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 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.

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 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, 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, 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 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.
London, September 15, 1724.

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

—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 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, 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 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.

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.

02

10

00

Item—For a Bail of powerful Eloquence, admir'd by all the World, but never yet us'd

05

00

00

Item—For as much Honour and Justice as a Great Man has Occasion for

00

00

01

Item—For a Hogshead of Courage not at all the worse for using

10

00

00

Item—For a Pound of Wit, and Humour

01

00

00

Item—For a long Line of Lineage, Dog Cheap, and not a Farthing a Yard, by Measure

05

00

00

Item—For praising your Lord's Ancestors, unknown

1

10

00

Item—For admiring your Lady's Beauty, unseen

00

10

00

Item—For a Graceful Person, entirely of my own making

02

10

00

Item—For a Nail of a Yard of Generosity

00

02

05

Sum Total

28

02

06

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.

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 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.

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.

—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.

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, 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 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 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 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.

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.

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 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; 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, 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.

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:

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.

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, 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 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 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 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 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 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 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. 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?

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.

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 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, 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 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.

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.

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 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.

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.

Vilius Argentum est Auro, Virtutibus Aurum.

HOR.

To the PLAIN-DEALER.

Middle-Temple, March 1. 1725.
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 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.

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 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 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, 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.

Button's, Covent-Garden, March 4. 1725
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 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 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 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.

—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 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 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 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 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 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,

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 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 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.

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.

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, 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 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.

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 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.

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 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.

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 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 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 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 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 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.

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 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 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 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, 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 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!

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, 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?

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 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.

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.

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, 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 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 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.

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.

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?

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.

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, 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; 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.

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 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 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 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.

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.

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 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: 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.

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.

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;

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 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.

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 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!

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.

Friday, March 19. 1724.
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.

March, 25, 1724.
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 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 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, 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.

—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 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.

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 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.

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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 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, 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 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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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 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, 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 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.

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 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.

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 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 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 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 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, 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 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.

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; 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.

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 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!
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,
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.

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 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 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, 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 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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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:

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; 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.

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.

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.

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.

—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: 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, 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, 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 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; 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.

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.

A CATALOGUE of BOOKS Printed for and Sold by A. Bettesworth, at the Red-Lion in Pater-Noster-Row.

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s.

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A

ATalantis, 4. Vol. 12ves.

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09

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Apuleius's Golden Ass, 2 Vol. 12ves.

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06

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Atlas Manuale: Or, A Sett of small Maps. By Moll. 8vo.

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05

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Athenian Oracle, now in the Press, 8vo.

Acta Regia: Or, An Abridgment of Mr. Rymer's Foedera. Pub¦lish'd Monthly, at 1 s. each.

Apollo's Feast, 12ves.

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01

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Art of Pleasing in Conversation, in French and English. By Cardinal Richlieu. 12ves.

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03

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Agreeable Variety, 8vo.

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03

06

Art of Thinking. Translated by Ozell. 12ves.

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03

06

Arabian Nights Entertainment, Compleat, 6 Vol. 12ves.

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Abridgment Statutes, 6 Vol. 8vo.

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10

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Addison's Travels, 12ves.

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03

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Addison's Works, 3 Vol. 12ves.

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09

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Addison's Works, 4 Vol. 4to.

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Accomplish'd Conveyancer, 3 Vol. 8vo.

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18

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B

BRidgman's Conveyancer, Folio.

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10

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Bishop Blackhall's Works, 2 Vol. Folio.

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12

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Bishop Burnet on the Thirty nine Articles, Folio.

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12

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Bishop Burnet Abridgment of his History of the Reformation, 3 Vol. 12ves.

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09

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Dr. Barrow's Works, 2 Vol. Fol.

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02

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Book of Homiles, Folio, 1726.

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12

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Boyce on the Thirty nine Articles, Folio.

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09

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Burnet's Theory of the Earth, 2 Vol. 8vo.

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12

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Dr. Bates Works, Folio, 1724.

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07

06

Burnet's (Dr. Thomas) Sermons at Boyle's Lectures, for the Years 1724, 1725, 2 Vol.

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09

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Burnet's (Dr. Thomas) Essay upon Government, 8vo.

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01

06

Burnet's (Dr. Thomas) Scripture Trinity, 8vo.

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02

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Blackmore's (Sir Richard) Essays, 2 Vol. 8vo.

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11

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Blackmore's (Sir Richard) Creation, a Poem, 12ves.

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02

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Blackmore's (Sir Richard) Redemption, a Poem; being a Supple¦ment to the Creation, 8vo.

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04

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Buchanan's History of Scotland, 2 Vol. English, with curious Cuts, 8vo.

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11

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Boyer's French and English Dictionary, 8vo.

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07

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Boyer's Telemachus, 2 Vol. 12ves.

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05

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Bailey's Etymological English Dictionary

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07

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Bailey's Translation of Erasmus Colloquies.

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05

06

Bruyere's Works, 2 Vol. Translated from the French, 8vo.

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09

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Betterton's Life with the Amorous Widow.

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03

06

Behn's Novels, 2 Vol. 12ves.

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05

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Behn's Plays, 4 Vol. 12ves.

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12

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Boerhave's Aphorisms, Translated into English, 8vo.

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05

06

Mrs. Barker's Novels, 2 Vol. 12ves.

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05

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Mrs. Barker's Patchwork Screen, 2 Vol. 12ves.

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05

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British Apollo, 3 Vol. 12ves. containing two Thoushand Answers to Curious Questions in most Arts and Sciences, 12ves.

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09

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British Compendium: Containing the Descents of the English, Scotch, and Irish Nobility, with their Arms curiously Engraven, 3 Vols. 12ves.

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02

06

Builders Dictionary, 8vo.

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04

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Dr. Brown of Cold Baths. 12ves.

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01

06

Boileau's Art of Poetry, 4 Canto's, 12ves.

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01

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Boileau's Lutrin: An Heroi-Comical Poem.

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01

06

Bulstrode (Whitlock) Essays, 8vo.

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04

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Bridges of Fractions, 12ves.

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01

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Bradley's New Improvements in Planting and Gardening, 8vo.

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06

06

Byshe's Art of Poetry, 2 Vol.

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05

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Blackmore's Ecclesiastical Antiquity, abridg'd from Bingham, 2 Vol.

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11

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Ball's Astrology improv'd

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02

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Burkett of the New Testament, Folio.

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03

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Beveridge's Private Thoughts, 8vo.

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09

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Beveridge's Ditto, 12ves.

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01

06

Beveridge's Prayer, 8vo.

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03

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Beveridge's Ditto, 12ves.

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01

06

Blackmore on Consumptions, 8vo.

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03

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Blackmore on the Spleen

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06

Blackmore on the Gout and Rheumatism

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03

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Blackmore on the Vapours.

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04

06

Bingham's Antiquities, 2 Vols. Folio.

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10

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Brown (Tho.) Works, 5 Vols. 12ves.

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12

06

Bishop's Sermons at Lady Moyer's Lecture, 8vo.

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05

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Baynard of Hot and Cold Baths, 8vo.

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05

06

C

CAssandra: A fam'd Romance, 5 Vols. 12ves

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15

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Cook of Forest Trees, 8vo.

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03

06

Bishop Cumberland, De Legibus Naturae, 8vo.

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06

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Cato's Letters, 4 Vols. 12ves

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10

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Cave's Primitive Christianity, 8vo.

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04

06

Calamy's (Benj.) Sermons, 8vo.

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04

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Clark's Body of Divinity, 2 Vol. 8vo.

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09

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Cocker's English Dictionary, 8vo.

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02

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Cocker's Decimal Arithmetick, 8vo.

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03

06

Countess of Morton's Devotions, 24s.

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06

Dr. Comber's Companion to the Altar, 8vo.

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04

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Christian Pattern, Translated from the Latin of Tho. a Kempis, 24o.

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01

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Culpeper's English Physician Enlarg'd

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02

06

Culpeper's Midwife, 12ves.

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02

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Culpeper's Dispensatory, 12ves.

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02

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Courtier, Translated from the Italian.

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Cap of Gray Hairs for a Green Head, 8vo.

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Croxall's Aesop's Fables, 12ves.

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03

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Cox's History of Carolina, 8vo.

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Cruso's Life abridg'd, in a neat Pocket Volume, 12ves.

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Cambray's Private Thoughts upon Religion, 12ves.

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02

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Cornelius Nepos, English'd by several Hands, 12ves.

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02

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Cockman's Tully's Offices, 12ves.

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Christian's Companion to the Closet and Altar, 12ves.

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Chevalier de Vaudray, a Novel, 12ves.

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02

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Cole's Latin and English Dictionary, 8vo.

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06

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Caesar ex Recensione, Tho. Parsell, 12ves.

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02

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Caesar Cum Notis Delphini, 8vo.

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06

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Constitutions, Canons, and Articles, of the Church of England, 8vo.

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02

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Clark's Answer so the Religion of Nature delineated, 8vo.

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Clark's Ditto, against Hutchinson's Ideas of Beauty, 8vo.

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Clarendon's (Lord) History of the Rebellion, 6 Vols. 8vo.

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10

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Cases against the Dissenters, 3 Vols. 8vo.

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Clark, (Dr. Samuel) on the Attributes, 8vo.

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06

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Clark, (Dr. Samuel) Seventeen Sermons at St. James's, 8vo.

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06

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Clark, (Dr. Samuel) on the Gospels, 2 Vols. 8vo.

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11

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Cheyne (Dr.) on Health and Long Life, 8vo.

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04

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Congreve's Plays and Poems, 3 Vols. 12ves.

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09

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Critical History of England, 2 Vols. 8vo.

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11

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Cheselden's Anatomy, 8vo.

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06

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Cambden's Britannia, 2 Vols. Folio.

03

10

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Churches no Charnel Houses, proving the Indecency of Burying in Churches and Church-Yards.

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01

Carcase's Book of Rates, Folio. 1726.

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05

Comical History of Francion, 2 Vols. 12ves.

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05

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Chambers's Dictionary of Arts and Sciences, 2 Vols. Folio.

Chillingworth's Works, Folio, 1726.

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12

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Chandler (Bishop) Defence of Christianity, 8vo.

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05

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Collier's Sacred Interpreter, 2 Vol. 8vo.

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10

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Cambray of the Being and Existence of God, 12ves.

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03

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Clarendon and Whitlock compared, 8vo.

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05

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Collier's Antoninus, 8vo.

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06

D

DOmat's Civil Law in its Natural Order, Translated by Dr. Strahan, 2 Vols. Fol.

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02

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Dupin's Method of Studying Divinity, 8vo.

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05

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Dionis's Midwifry, English, 8vo.

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04

06

Devout Christian's Companion, 2 Vols. 12ves.

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06

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Dacier's Abridgment of Plato's Works. Translated from the French, 2 Vols. 12ves.

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05

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Drelincourt of Death, 8vo.

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05

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Dictionarium Rusticum & Urbanicum: Or, A Dictionary of Country Affairs, 2 Vols. 8vo.

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09

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Defoe's Works, 2 Vols. 8vo.

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10

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Drexelius's Hourly Companion, 12ves.

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01

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Derham's Physico-Theology, 8vo.

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06

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Derham's Astro-Theology, 8vo.

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04

06

Dupin's History of the Church, abridg'd, in four neat Pocket-Volumes, 12ves.

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10

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Dryden's Plays, in 6 Vols. 12ves.

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Dryden's Miscellanies, 6 Vols. 12ves.

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18

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Dryden's Virgil, with Cuts, 3 Vols. 12ves.

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11

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Dryden's Juvenal, 12ves.

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03

06

Dryden's Fables.

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03

06

Ditton, on the Resurrection, 8vo.

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05

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Ditton, on Fluids, 8vo.

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03

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Defence of the Female Sex.

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03

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Dalton's Country Justice, with large Additions, by W. Nelson, Esq Folio, 1726.

01

05

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Danois's Tales of the Fairies, 3 Vol. 12ves.

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07

06

Dictionary of all Religions, 8vo.

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04

06

Degolls on Worms, 8vo.

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01

06

Ductor Historicus, 2 Vols. 8vo.

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10

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E

ENgland's Interest: Or, The Gentleman and Farmer's Friend.

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01

06

English Liberties: Or, The Free-born Subjects Inheritance. By W. Nelson, Esq

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04

06

Essay on the Transmutation of the Blood, 8vo.

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01

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Eutropius, in Usum Delphini, 8vo.

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02

06

Echard's History of England, Folio.

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16

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Echard's Roman History, 5 Vols. 8vo.

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05

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Echard's Ecclesiastical History, 2Vols. 8vo.

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09

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Echard's Gazetteer, in Two Parts, 12ves.

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03

06

Echard's Terence, 12ves.

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02

06

Echard's History of the Revolution, 8vo.

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04

06

Eusebius's Ecclesiastical History, English, Folie.

01

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Etheridge's Plays, 12ves.

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03

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English Expositor, 12ves.

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01

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Echard's (Dr.) Works, 8vo.

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04

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England's Black Tribunal, 12ves.

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02

06

Everard's Gauging, 12ves.

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02

06

Eikon Basilike: To which is added, The Life of King Charles the First, by Perinchief.

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05

06

F

FLavell's Works, 2 Vol. Folio.

02

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Flavell's Husbandry Spiritualiz'd, 12ves.

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02

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Flavell's Navigation Spiritualiz'd, 8vo.

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01

06

Bishop Fleetwood's Relative Duties, 8vo.

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04

06

Fisher's Arithmetick, 12ves.

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02

06

Farrier's and Horseman's Dictionary, 8vo.

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05

06

Familiar Letters of Love and Gallantry, in Two neat Pocket-Volumes, 12ves.

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05

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Florus in Usum Delphini, 8vo.

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04

06

Frauds of the Romish Priests and Monks, in Two Volumes, 12ves.

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05

06

Fable of the Bees, 8vo.

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05

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Friend's History of Physick, 2 Vols. 8vo.

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10

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Freeholder, 12ves.

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03

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Fuller's Pharmacopoeia Extemporanea, 12ves.

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03

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Fuller's The same in English, 8vo.

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05

06

Fidde's Sermons, Folio.

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17

06

Farquhar's Plays and Poems, 2 Vols. 12ves.

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06

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G

GOodman's (Dr.) Penitent pardoned, 8vo.

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04

06

Goodman's (Dr.) Winter Evening Conference, 8vo.

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04

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Goodman's (Dr.) Old Religion, 12ves.

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02

06

Glanvill of Witches, 1726. 8vo.

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05

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Gordon's (Patrick) Geographical Grammar, 8vo.

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06

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Gordon's (George) Introduction to Geography, Astronomy, Dyalling, and Chronology, 8vo. 17•6.

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04

06

Gerhard's Meditations. By Rowell.

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03

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Ditto, small Edition.

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01

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Gentleman Angler, 12ves.

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01

06

Gastrell's Christian Institutes, 12ves.

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02

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Gentleman Instructed, 8vo.

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02

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Guiilim's Display of Heraldry, Folio.

02

02

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Gentleman Jockey, 8vo.

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01

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Gibson's Farrier's Guide, 8vo.

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05

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Gibson's Farmer's Dispensatory, 8vo.

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04

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Gibson's Method of Dieting Horses, 8vo.

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03

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Gay's Pastorals,

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01

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Gedde's Tracts, 3 Vols. 8vo.

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18

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Guardian, 2 Vols. 12ves.

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05

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Gardner's Dictionary, 2 Vols. 12ves.

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12

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Gibson's Anatomy of Human Bodies, 8vo.

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05

06

H

HENRY, (Matthew) on the Bible, 6 Vols.

06

06

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HENRY, (Matthew) Works, Collected into One Volume.

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07

06

Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, 1724, Folio.

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01

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Horneck's (Dr.) Crucified Jesus, 8vo.

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Horneck's (Dr.) on Consideration, 8vo.

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04

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Horneck's (Dr.) Best Exercise, 8vo.

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04

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Horneck's (Dr.) Fire of the Altar, 12ves.

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01

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Handley's Mechanical Essays on the Animal Oeconomy, 8vo.

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05

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Handley's Colloquia Chirurgica: Or, The Whole Art of Surgery, 8vo.

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02

06

Hawney's Trigonometry, 8vo.

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06

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Hawney's Compleat Measurer. 12ves.

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02

06

History of England, 4. Vols. 8vo. With the Heads of all the Kings and Queens curiously Engrav'd.

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02

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Howell's (Lawrence) History of the Bible, 3 Vols. With 150 Copper Plates, 3 Vols. 8vo.

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Howell's (James) Familiar Letters, 8vo.

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05

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Harris's (Dr.) Lexicon Technicum, 2 Vols. Folio.

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10

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Hudibras, in Three Parts; with a new Sett of Cuts.

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03

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History and Present State of the Kingdom of France, 2 Vols. 12 ves.

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06

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Hatton's Psaltar, 12ves.

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Howard's Newest Way of Cookery, 12ves

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02

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History of English Martyrs in Queen Mary's Reign, 8vo.

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04

06

Hatton's Comes Comercii, 8vo.

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02

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History of Hungary, 12ves.

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02

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Hewit's Tables of Interest, engraven on Copper Plates, 12ves.

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02

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History of Tryals and Attainders, 2 Vols, 12ves.

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05

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Hutchinson's Enquiry into our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue, 8vo.

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04

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Hanover Tales: Or, The Secret History of Count Fradonia, and the Unfortunate Beritia, 12ves.

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01

06

Henley's Hesther, an Historical Poem

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01

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Horatius in Usum Delphini, 8vo.

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06

06

Haywood's Novels, 4 Vols. 12ves.

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10

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Hook's Experiments, publish'd by Derham.

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05

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Historia Sacra: Or, History of the Feasts and Fasts of the Church of England.

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05

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Hope's Compleat Horseman, Folio.

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06

Howard's Plays, 12ves.

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03

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History of Herodotus, English'd by Littlebury, 2 Vols. 8vo.

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10

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The Hive: Or, A Collection of Songs, 3 Vols. 12ves.

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07

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History of the Devil, 8vo.

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Johnson's (Samuel) Works, Folio.

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Jones's Poetical Miscellanies, 12ves.

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Justinius in Usum Delphini, 8vo.

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Jenks's Devotions on several Occasions

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Juvenalis in Usum Delphini, 8vo.

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Jenkins of the Christian Religion, 2 Vols. 8vo.

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Journey through England, 3 Vols. 8vo.

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Inquiry into the Original of our Ideas of Beauty and Virtue, 8vo.

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Jackman de vi Conscientiae, 12ves.

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Independent Whig.

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Kennet's Roman Antiquities, 8vo.

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Keill's Introduction to Astronomy, English, 8vo.

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King on the Creed, 8vo.

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King Constitutions of the Primitive Church.

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Keill's Introduction to Natural Philosophy, 8vo.

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Littleton's Dictionary, English and Latin.

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Moral Virtue delineated. Translated from the French of Mons. Gomberville

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Manton on the 119th Psalm, 1723.

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Musae Anglicanae, 2 Vols.

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New Miscellaneous Poems, with Five Love Letters from a Nun to a Cavalier, and the Cavalier's Answer, in Verse.

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New Manual of Devotions, in 3 Parts.

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- Xenophon de Cyri Institutione, Greek and Latin.

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BOOKS lately publish'd.

- 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.

- 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.

- 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 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.

- 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.

Information about this book

Title statement

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 collected into two volumes. ... [pt.2]

Hill, Aaron, 1685-1750.

Publication

Distributor

University of Oxford Text Archive
Oxford University Computing Services
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ota@oucs.ox.ac.uk

ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/5200

ID [isbn10]

1106021991

ID [isbn13]

9781106021991

ID [TCP]

K107483.002

ID [BIBNO]

CW3310660904

ID [ECLL]

0199100802

Availability

Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

Source

— 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 collected into two volumes. ..., Hill, Aaron, 1685-1750., Bond, William, d. 1735.. 2v., ; 8⁰. London :: printed for S. Richardson, and A. Wilde: and sold by A. Bettesworth, J. Osborn and T. Longman, and J. Batley; W. Innys, J. Knapton, and C. Rivington; J. Clarke; and J. Leake, at Bath,. 1730.. [Anonymous. By Aaron Hill and William Bond.] [Titlepages in red and black.] [Originally published in 117 parts.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT135939.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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