'Oh! Zelinda, What a Scheme of Delight have I drawn up in my Imagination! What Day-Dreams do I indulge my self in! When will the Six Weeks be at an End, that lye between me and my promised Happiness?

'How could you break off so abruptly in your last, and tell me you must go and dress for the Play? If you loved as I do, you would find no more Company in a Crowd, than I have in my Solitude._

'I am, &c.'

'On the Back of this Letter is written, in the Hand of the Deceased, the following Piece of History.

Mem. Having waited a whole Week for an Answer to this Letter, I hurried to Town, where I found the Perfidious Creature married to my Rival. I will bear it as becomes a Man, and endeavour to find out Happiness for my self in that Retirement, which I had prepared in vain for a false ungrateful Woman.

I am, &c.



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No. 628. Friday, December 3, 1714.



'Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis avum.'

Hor.



Mr. SPECTATOR,

'There are none of your Speculations which please me more than those upon Infinitude and Eternity. [1] You have already considered that Part of Eternity which is past, and I wish you would give us your Thoughts upon that which is to come.

'Your Readers will perhaps receive greater Pleasure from this View of Eternity than the former, since we have every one of us a Concern in that which is to come: Whereas a Speculation on that which is past is rather curious than useful.

'Besides, we can easily conceive it possible for successive Duration never to have an End; tho', as you have justly observed, that Eternity which never had a Beginning is altogether incomprehensible; That is, we can conceive an Eternal Duration which may be, though we cannot an Eternal Duration which hath been; or, if I may use the Philosophical Terms, we may apprehend a Potential though not an Actual Eternity.

'This Notion of a future Eternity, which is natural to the Mind of Man, is an unanswerable Argument that he is a Being designed for it; especially if we consider that he is capable of being Virtuous or Vicious here; that he hath Faculties improvable to all Eternity, and by a proper or wrong Employment of them, may be happy or miserable throughout that infinite Duration. Our Idea indeed of this Eternity is not of an adequate or fixed Nature, but is perpetually growing and enlarging itself toward the Object, which is too big for human Comprehension. As we are now in the Beginnings of Existence, so shall we always appear to our selves as if we were for ever entring upon it. After a Million or two of Centuries, some considerable Things, already past, may slip out of our Memory; which, if it be not strengthened in a wonderful Manner, may possibly forget that ever there was a Sun or Planets. And yet, notwithstanding the long Race that we shall then have run, we shall still imagine ourselves just starting from the Goal, and find no Proportion between that Space which we know had a Beginning, and what we are sure will never have an End.

'But I shall leave this Subject to your Management, and question not but you will throw it into such Lights as shall at once improve and entertain your Reader.

'I have enclos'd sent you a Translation [2] of the Speech of Cato on this Occasion, which hath accidentally fallen into my Hands, and which for Conciseness, Purity, and Elegance of Phrase, cannot be sufficiently admired.

ACT V. SCEN. I.

CATO solus, &c.

'Sic, sic se habere rem necesse prorsus est, Ratione vincis, do lubens manus, Plato. Quid enim dedisset, Quae dedit frustra nihil, AEternitatis insitam cupidinem Natura? Quorsum haec dulcis Expectatio; Vitaeque non explenda melioris sitis? Quid vult sibi aliud iste redeundi in nihil Horror, sub imis quemque agens precordiis? Cur territa in se refugit anima, cur tremit Attonita, quoties, morte ne pereat, timet? Particula nempe est cuique nascenti indita Divinior; quae corpus incolens agit; Hominique succinit, Tua est AEternitas, AEternitas! O lubricum nimis aspici, Mixtumque dulci Gaudium formidine?

Quae demigrabitur alia hinc in corpora? Quae Terra mox incognita? Quis orbis novus Manet incolendus? Quanta erit mutatio? Haec intuenti spatia mihi quaqua patent Immensa: Sed caliginosa nox premit; Nec luce clara vult videri singula. Figendus hic pes; certa sunt haec hactenus: Si quod gubernet Numen Humanum genus, (At, quod gubernet, esse clamant omnia) Virtute non gaudere certe non potest: Nec esse non Beata, qua gaudet, potest. Sed qua Beata sede? Quove in tempore? Haec quanta quanta terra, tola est Caesaris. Quid dubius haeret animus usque adeo? Brevi Hic nodum hic omnem expediet. Arma en induor Ensi manum admovens, In utramque partem facta; quaeque vim inferant, Et quae propulsent! Dextera intentat necem; Vitam sinistra: Vulnus haec dabit manus; Altera medelam vulneris: Hic ad exitum Deducet, ictu simplici; haec vetant mori. Secura ridet anima mucronis minas, Ensesque strictos, interire nescia. Extinguet aetas sidera diuturnior: AEtate languens ipse Sol, obscurius Emittet Orbi consenescenti jubar: Natura et ipsa sentiet quondam vices AEtatis, annis ipsa deficiet gravis: At tibi juventus, at tibi immortalitas, Tibi parta Divum est vita. Periment mutuis Elementa sese, et interibunt ictibus: Tu permanebis sola semper integra, Tu cuncta rerum quassa, cuncta naufraga, Jam portu in ipso tuta, contemplabere. Compage rupta, corruent in se invicem, Orbesque fractis ingerentur orbibus; Illaesa tu sedebis extra Fragmina.'

ACT V. SCENE I. CATO alone, &c.

'It must be so—Plato, thou reason'st well— Else whence this pleasing Hope, this fond Desire, This Longing after Immortality? Or whence this secret Dread, and inward Horror, Of falling into Nought? Why shrinks the Soul Back on her self, and startles at Destruction? 'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us; 'Tis Heaven it self, that points out an Hereafter, And intimates Eternity to Man. Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful, Thought!

Through what Variety of untry'd Being, Through what new Scenes and Changes must we pass!

The wide, th' unbounded Prospect, lyes before me; But Shadows, Clouds, and Darkness rest upon it. Here will I hold. If there's a Pow'r above us, (And that there is all Nature cries aloud Through all her Works) He must delight in Virtue; And that which he delights in, must be happy. But when! or where!—This World was made for Caesar. I'm weary of Conjectures—This must end 'em.

Laying his Hand on his Sword._

Thus am I doubly arm'd: my Death and Life, My Bane and Antidote are both before me. This in a Moment brings me to an End; But This informs me I shall never die. The Soul, secur'd in her Existence, smiles At the drawn Dagger, and defies its Point. The Stars shall fade away, the Sun himself Grow dim with Age, and Nature sink in Years; But thou shalt flourish in immortal Youth, Unhurt amidst the War of Elements, The Wrecks of Matter and the Crush of Worlds.'



[Footnote 1: Nos. 565, 571, 580, and 590.]

[Footnote 2: By Mr., afterwards Dr., Bland, who became Provost of Eton and Dean of Durham.]



* * * * *



No. 629. Monday, December 6, 1714.



'Experiar quid concedatur in illos, Quorum Flaminia tegitur cinis atque Latina.'

Juv.



Next to the People who want a Place, there are none to be pitied more than those who are solicited for one. A plain Answer, with a Denial in it, is looked upon as Pride, and a civil Answer as a Promise.

Nothing is more ridiculous than the Pretensions of People upon these Occasions. Every thing a Man hath suffered, whilst his Enemies were in play, was certainly brought about by the Malice of the opposite Party. A bad Cause would not have been lost, if such an one had not been upon the Bench; nor a profligate Youth disinherited, if he had not got drunk every Night by toasting an outed Ministry. I remember a Tory, who having been fined in a Court of Justice for a Prank that deserved the Pillory, desir'd upon the Merit of it to be made a Justice of Peace when his Friends came into Power; and shall never forget a Whig Criminal, who, upon being indicted for a Rape, told his Friends, You see what a Man suffers for sticking to his Principles.

The Truth of it is, the Sufferings of a Man in a Party are of a very doubtful Nature. When they are such as have promoted a good Cause, and fallen upon a Man undeservedly, they have a Right to be heard and recompensed beyond any other Pretensions. But when they rise out of Rashness or Indiscretion, and the Pursuit of such Measures as have rather ruined, than promoted the Interest they aim at, (which hath always been the Case of many great Sufferers) they only serve to recommend them to the Children of Violence or Folly.

I have by me a Bundle of Memorials presented by several Cavaliers upon the Restauration of K. Charles II. which may serve as so many Instances, to our present Purpose.

Among several Persons and Pretensions recorded by my Author, he mentions one of a very great Estate, who, for having roasted an Ox whole, and distributed a Hogshead upon K. Charles's Birth-day, desired to be provided for, as his Majesty in his great Wisdom shall think fit.

Another put in to be Prince Henry's, Governor, for having dared to drink his Health in the worst of Times.

A Third petitioned for a Colonel's Commission, for having Cursed Oliver Cromwell, the Day before his Death, on a publick Bowling-Green.

But the most whimsical Petition I have met with is that of B. B. Esq., who desir'd the Honour of Knighthood, for having Cuckolded Sir T. W. a notorious Roundhead.

There is likewise the Petition of one, who having let his Beard grow from the Martyrdom of K. Charles the First, till the Restauration of K. Charles the Second, desired, in Consideration thereof, to be made a Privy-Counsellor.

I must not omit a Memorial setting forth, that the Memorialist had, with great dispatch, carried a Letter from a certain Lord to a certain Lord, wherein, as it afterwards appeared, Measures were concerted for the Restauration, and without which he verily believes that happy Revolution had never been effected; who thereupon humbly prays to be made Post-Master-General.

A certain Gentleman, who seems to write with a great deal of Spirit, and uses the Words Gallantry and Gentleman-like very often in his Petition, begs that (in Consideration of his having worn his Hat for ten Years past in the Loyal Cavalier-Cock, to his great Danger and Detriment) he may be made a Captain of the Guards.

I shall close my Account of this Collection of Memorials, with the Copy of one Petition at length, which I recommend to my Reader as a very valuable Piece.

The Petition of E. H. Esq., humbly Sheweth,

'That your Petitioner's Father's Brother's Uncle, Colonel W. H. lost the Third Finger of his Left Hand at Edge-hill Fight.

'That your Petitioner, notwithstanding the Smallness of his Fortune, (he being a younger Brother) always kept Hospitality, and drank Confusion to the Roundheads in half a Score Bumpers every Sunday in the Year, as several honest Gentlemen (whose Names are underwritten) are ready to testifie.

'That your Petitioner is remarkable in his Country for having dared to treat Sir P. P. a cursed Sequestrator, and three Members of the Assembly of Divines, with Brawn and Minced Pies upon New Year's Day.

'That your said humble Petitioner hath been five times imprisoned in five several County-Goals, for having been a Ring-leader in five different Riots; into which his Zeal for the Royal Cause hurried him, when men of greater Estates had not the Courage to rise.

'That he, the said E. H. hath had six Duels and four and twenty Boxing-Matches in Defence of his Majesty's Title; and that he received such a Blow upon the Head at a Bonfire in Stratford upon Avon, as he hath been never the better for from that Day to this.

'That your Petitioner hath been so far from improving his Fortune, in the late damnable Times, that he verily believes, and hath good Reason to imagine, that if he had been Master of an Estate, he had infallibly been plundered and sequestred.

'Your Petitioner, in Consideration of his said Merits and Sufferings, humbly requests that he may have the Place of Receiver of the Taxes, Collector of the Customs, Clerk of the Peace, Deputy Lieutenant, or whatsoever else he shall be thought qualified for.

And your Petitioner shall ever Pray, &c.



* * * * *



No. 630. Wednesday, December 8, 1714.



'—Favete linguis—'

Hor.



Having no spare Time to write any thing of my own, or to correct what is sent me by others, I have thought fit to publish the following Letters.

Oxford, November 22.

SIR,

'If you would be so kind to me, as to suspend that Satisfaction, which the Learned World must receive in reading one of your Speculations, by publishing this Endeavour, you will very much oblige and improve one, who has the Boldness to hope, that he may be admitted into the number of your Correspondents.

'I have often wondered to hear Men of good Sense and good Nature profess a Dislike to Musick, when, at the same time, they do not scruple to own, that it has the most agreeable and improving Influences over their Minds: It seems to me an unhappy Contradiction, that those Persons should have an Indifference for an Art, which raises in them such a Variety of sublime Pleasures.

'However, though some few, by their own or the unreasonable Prejudices of others, may be led into a Distaste for those Musical Societies which are erected merely for Entertainment, yet sure I may venture to say, that no one can have the least Reason for Disaffection to that solemn kind of Melody which consists of the Praises of our Creator.

'You have, I presume, already prevented me in an Argument upon this Occasion (which some Divines have successfully advanced upon a much greater) that Musical Sacrifice and Adoration has claimed a Place in the Laws and Customs of the most different Nations; As the Grecians and Romans of the Prophane, the Jews and Christians of the Sacred World did as unanimously agree in this, as they disagreed in all other Parts of their OEconomy.

'I know there are not wanting some who are of Opinion that the pompous kind of Musick which is in Use in foreign Churches is the most excellent, as it most affects our Senses. But I am swayed by my Judgment to the Modesty which is observed in the musical Part of our Devotions. Methinks there is something very laudable in the Custom of a Voluntary before the first Lesson; by this we are supposed to be prepared for the Admission of those Divine Truths, which we are shortly to receive. We are then to cast all worldly Regards from off our Hearts, all Tumults within are then becalmed, and there should be nothing near the Soul but Peace and Tranquility. So that in this short Office of Praise, the Man is raised above himself, and is almost lost already amidst the Joys of Futurity.

'I have heard some nice Observers frequently commend the Policy of our Church in this Particular, that it leads us on by such easie and regular Methods, that we are perfectly deceived into Piety. When the Spirits begin to languish (as they too often do) with a constant Series of Petitions, she takes care to allow them a pious Respite, and relieves them with the Raptures of an Anthem. Nor can we doubt that the sublimest Poetry, softened in the most moving Strains of Musick, can ever fail of humbling or exalting the Soul to any Pitch of Devotion. Who can hear the Terrors of the Lord of Hosts described in the most expressive Melody, without being awed into a Veneration? or who can hear the kind and endearing Attributes of a merciful Father, and not be softened into Love towards him!

'As the rising and sinking of the Passions, the casting soft or noble Hints into the Soul, is the natural Privilege of Musick in general, so more particularly of that kind which is employed at the Altar. Those Impressions which it leaves upon the Spirits are more deep and lasting, as the Grounds from which it receives its Authority are founded more upon Reason. It diffuses a Calmness all around us, it makes us drop all those vain or immodest Thoughts which would be an hindrance to us in the Performance of that great Duty of Thanksgiving, [1] which, as we are informed by our Almighty Benefactor, is the most acceptable Return which can be made for those infinite Stores of Blessings which he daily condescends to pour down upon his Creatures. When we make Use of this pathetical Method of addressing our selves to him, we can scarce contain from Raptures! The Heart is warmed with a Sublimity of Goodness. We are all Piety and all Love!

'How do the Blessed Spirits rejoice and wonder to behold unthinking Man prostrating his Soul to his dread Sovereign in such a Warmth of Piety as they themselves might not be ashamed of!

'I shall close these Reflections with a Passage taken out of the Third Book of Milton's Paradise Lost, where those harmonious Beings are thus nobly described.

'Then Crown'd again, their Gold'n Harps they took, Harps ever tun'd, that glittering by their side Like Quivers hung, and with Preamble sweet Of Charming Symphony they introduce The Sacred Song, and waken Raptures high; No one exempt, no Voice but well could join Melodious part, such Concord is in Heav'n'

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'The Town cannot be unacquainted, that in divers Parts of it there are vociferous Setts of Men who are called Rattling Clubs; but what shocks me most is, they have now the Front to invade the Church and institute these Societies there, as a Clan of them have in late times done, to such a degree of Insolence, as has given the Partition where they reside in a Church near one of the City Gates, the Denomination of the Rattling Pew. These gay Fellows, from humble Lay Professions, set up for Criticks without any Tincture of Letters or Reading, and have the Vanity to think they can lay hold of something from the Parson, which may be formed into Ridicule.

'It is needless to observe, that the Gentlemen who every Sunday have the hard Province of Instructing these Wretches in a way they are in no present Disposition to take, have a fixt Character for Learning and Eloquence, not to be tainted by the weak Efforts of this Contemptible Part of their Audiences. Whether the Pulpit is taken by these Gentlemen, or any Strangers their Friends, the way of the Club is this: If any Sentiments are delivered too Sublime for their Conception; if any uncommon Topick is entered on, or one in use new modified with the finest Judgment and Dexterity; or any controverted Point be never so elegantly handled; In short whatever surpasses the narrow Limits of their Theology, or is not suited to their Taste, they are all immediately upon their Watch, fixing their Eyes upon each other, with as much Warmth as our Gladiators of Hockley in the Hole, and waiting like them for a Hit; if one touches, all take Fire, and their Noddles instantly meet in the Centre of the Pew; then, as by beat of Drum, with exact Discipline, they rear up into a full length of Stature, and with odd Looks and Gesticulations confer together in so loud and clamorous a manner, continued to the close of the Discourse, and during the After-Psalm, as is not to be silenced but by the Bells. Nor does this suffice them, without aiming to propagate their Noise through all the Church, by Signals given to the adjoyning Seats, where others designed for this Fraternity are sometimes placed upon Tryal to receive them.

'The Folly as well as Rudeness of this Practice is in nothing more conspicuous than this, that all that follows in the Sermon is lost; for whenever our Sparks take alarm, they blaze out and grow so Tumultuous that no After-Explanation can avail, it being impossible for themselves or any near them to give an Account thereof. If any thing really Novel is advanced, how averse soever it may be to their way of thinking, to say nothing of Duty, Men of less Levity than these would be led by a natural Curiosity to hear the whole.

'Laughter, where things Sacred are transacted, is far less pardonable than Whining at a Conventicle; the last has at least a Semblance of Grace, and where the Affectation is unseen may possibly imprint wholesome Lessons on the Sincere; but the first has no Excuse, breaking through all the Rules of Order and Decency, and manifesting a Remissness of Mind in those important Matters, which require the strictest Composure and Steadiness of Thought; A Proof of the greatest Folly in the World.

'I shall not here enter upon the Veneration due to the Sanctity of the Place, the Reverence owing to the Minister, or the Respect that so great an Assembly as a whole Parish may justly claim. I shall only tell them, that as the Spanish Cobler, to reclaim a profligate Son, bid him have some regard to the Dignity of his Family, so they as Gentlemen (for we Citizens assume to be such one Day in a Week) are bound for the future to Repent of, and Abstain from, the gross Abuses here mentioned, whereof they have been Guilty in Contempt of Heaven and Earth, and contrary to the Laws in this Case made and provided.

I am, SIR, Your very humble Servant, R. M.



[Footnote 1: A Proclamation appeared the day before this Paper, ordaining a Thanksgiving for King George's Accession to be observed on the 20th of January.]



* * * * *



No. 631. Friday, December 10, 1714.



'—Simplex Munditiis—'

Hor.



I had occasion to go a few Miles out of Town, some Days since, in a Stage-Coach, where I had for my Fellow-Tavellers a dirty Beau, and a pretty young Quaker-Woman. Having no Inclination to Talk much at that time, I placed my self backward, with a design to survey them, and pick a Speculation out of my two Companions. Their different Figures were sufficient of themselves to draw my Attention. The Gentleman was dressed in a Suit, the Ground whereof had been Black, as I perceived from some few Spaces, that had escaped the Powder, which was Incorporated with the greatest part of his Coat: His Perriwig, which cost no small Sum, [1] was after so slovenly a manner cast over his Shoulders, that it seemed not to have been combed since the Year 1712; his Linnen, which was not much concealed, was daubed with plain Spanish from the Chin to the lowest Button, and the Diamond upon his Finger (which naturally dreaded the Water) put me in Mind how it sparkled amidst the Rubbish of the Mine, where it was first discovered. On the other hand, the pretty Quaker appeared in all the Elegance of Cleanliness. Not a Speck was to be found on her. A clear, clean oval Face, just edged about with little thin Plaits of the purest Cambrick, received great Advantages from the Shade of her black Hood; as did the Whiteness of her Arms from that sober-coloured Stuff, in which she had Cloathed her self. The Plainness of her Dress was very well suited to the Simplicity of her Phrases; all which put together, though they could not give me a great Opinion of her Religion, they did of her Innocence.

This Adventure occasioned my throwing together a few hints upon Cleanliness, which I shall consider as one of the Half-Virtues, as Aristotle calls them, and shall recommend it under the three following Heads, As it is a Mark of Politeness; As it produces Love; and As it bears Analogy to Purity of Mind.

First, It is a Mark of Politeness. It is universally agreed upon, that no one, unadorn'd with this Virtue, can go into Company without giving a manifest Offence. The easier or higher any one's Fortune is, this Duty arises proportionably. The different Nations of the World are as much distinguished by their Cleanliness, as by their Arts and Sciences. The more any Country is civilized, the more they consult this part of Politeness. We need but compare our Ideas of a Female Hottentot and an English Beauty, to be satisfied of the Truth of what hath been advanced.

In the next Place, Cleanliness may be said to be the Foster-Mother of Love. Beauty indeed most commonly produces that Passion in the Mind, but Cleanliness preserves it. An indifferent Face and Person, kept in perpetual Neatness, had won many a Heart from a pretty Slattern. Age it self is not unamiable, while it is preserved clean and unsullied: Like a piece of Metal constantly kept smooth and bright, we look on it with more Pleasure than on a new Vessel that is canker'd with Rust.

I might observe farther, that as Cleanliness renders us agreeable to others, so it makes us easie to our selves; that it is an excellent Preservative of Health; and that several Vices, destructive both to Mind and Body, are inconsistent with the Habit of it. But these Reflections I shall leave to the Leisure of my Readers, and shall observe in the Third Place, that it bears a great Analogy with Purity of Mind, and naturally inspires refined Sentiments and Passions.

We find from Experience, that through the Prevalence of Custom, the most vicious Actions lose their Horror, by being made familiar to us. On the contrary, those who live in the Neighbourhood of good Examples, fly from the first Appearances of what is shocking. It fares with us much after the same Manner, as to our Ideas. Our Senses, which are the Inlets to all the Images conveyed to the Mind, can only transmit the Impression of such things as usually surround them. So that pure and unsullied Thoughts are naturally suggested to the Mind, by those Objects that perpetually encompass us, when they are beautiful and elegant in their kind.

In the East, where the Warmth of the Climate makes Cleanliness more immediately necessary than in colder Countries, it is made one Part of their Religion: The Jewish Law, (and the Mahometan, which in some things copies after it) is filled with Bathings, Purifications, and other Rites of the like Nature. Though there is the above-named convenient Reason to be assigned for these Ceremonies, the chief Intention undoubtedly was to typifie inward Purity and Cleanness of Heart by those outward Washings. We read several Injunctions of this Kind in the Book of Deuteronomy, which confirm this Truth; and which are but ill accounted for by saying, as some do, that they were only instituted for Convenience in the Desart, which otherwise could not have been habitable for so many Years.

I shall conclude this Essay, with a Story which I have somewhere read in an Account of Mahometan Superstitions.

A Dervise of great Sanctity one Morning had the Misfortune as he took up a Chrystal Cup, which was consecrated to the Prophet, to let it fall upon the Ground, and dash it in Pieces. His Son coming in, some time after, he stretched out his Hands to bless him, as his manner was every Morning; but the Youth going out stumbled over the Threshold and broke his Arm. As the old Man wondered at these Events, a Caravan passed by in its way from Mecca. The Dervise approached it to beg a Blessing; but as he stroaked one of the Holy Camels, he received a Kick from the Beast, that sorely bruised him. His Sorrow and Amazement increased upon him, till he recollected that through Hurry and Inadvertency he had that Morning come abroad without washing his Hands.



[Footnote 1: Duumvir's fair wig cost 40 guineas. Tatler, No. 54.]



* * * * *



No. 632. Monday, December 13, 1714.



'—Explebo numerum, reddarque tenebris—'

Virg.



The Love of Symmetry and Order, which is natural to the Mind of Man, betrays him sometimes into very whimsical Fancies. This noble Principle, says a French Author, loves to amuse it self on the most trifling Occasions. You may see a profound Philosopher, says he, walk for an Hour together in his Chamber, and industriously treading, at every Step, upon every other Board in the Flooring. Every Reader will recollect several Instances of this Nature without my Assistance. I think it was Gregorio Leti who had published as many Books as he was Years old; [1] which was a Rule he had laid down and punctually observed to the Year of his Death. It was, perhaps, a Thought of the like Nature which determined Homer himself to divide each of his Poems into as many Books, as there are Letters in the Greek Alphabet. Herodotus has in the same manner adapted his Books to the Number of the Muses, for which Reason many a Learned man hath wished there had been more than Nine of that Sisterhood.

Several Epic Poets have religiously followed Virgil as to the Number of his Books; and even Milton is thought by many to have changed the Number of his Books from Ten to Twelve, for no other Reason; as Cowley tells us, it was his Design, had he finished his Davideis, to have also imitated the AEneid in this Particular. I believe every one will agree with me, that a Perfection of this Nature hath no Foundation in Reason; and, with due Respect to these great Names, may be looked upon as something whimsical.

I mention these great Examples in Defence of my Bookseller, who occasioned this Eighth Volume of Spectators, because, as he said, he thought Seven a very Odd Number. On the other Side, several grave Reasons were urged on this important Subject; as in particular, that Seven was the precise Number of the Wise Men, and that the most Beautiful Constellation in the Heavens was composed of Seven Stars. This he allowed to be true, but still insisted, that Seven was an Odd Number; suggesting at the same time that if he were provided with a sufficient Stock of leading Papers, he should find Friends ready enough to carry on the Work. Having by this means got his Vessel launched and set afloat, he hath committed the Steerage of it, from time to time, to such as he thought capable of conducting it.

The Close of this Volume, which the Town may now expect in a little time, may possibly ascribe each Sheet to its proper Author.

It were no hard Task to continue this Paper a considerable Time longer, by the Help of large Contributions sent from unknown Hands.

I cannot give the Town a better Opinion of the SPECTATOR'S Correspondents, than by publishing the following Letter, with a very fine Copy of Verses upon a Subject perfectly new.

Dublin, Nov. 30, 1714.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

'You lately recommended to your Female Readers, the good old Custom of their Grandmothers, who used to lay out a great Part of their Time in Needle-work: I entirely agree with you in your Sentiments, and think it would not be of less Advantage to themselves, and their Posterity, than to the Reputation of many of their good Neighbours, if they past many of those Hours in this innocent Entertainment, which are lost at the Tea-Table. I would, however, humbly offer to your Consideration, the Case of the Poetical Ladies; who, though they may be willing to take any Advice given them by the SPECTATOR, yet can't so easily quit their Pen and Ink, as you may imagine. Pray allow them, at least now and then, to indulge themselves in other Amusements of Fancy, when they are tired with stooping to their Tapestry. There is a very particular kind of Work, which of late several Ladies here in our Kingdom are very fond of, which seems very well adapted to a Poetical Genius: It is the making of Grotto's. I know a Lady who has a very Beautiful one, composed by her self, nor is there one Shell in it not stuck up by her own Hands. I here send you a Poem to the fair Architect, which I would not offer to herself, till I knew whether this Method of a Lady's passing her Time were approved of by the British SPECTATOR, which, with the Poem, I submit to your Censure, who am,

Your Constant Reader, and Humble Servant, A.B.

To Mrs.—on her Grotto.

A Grotto so compleat, with such Design, What Hands, Calypso, cou'd have form'd but Thine? Each chequer'd Pebble, and each shining Shell, So well proportion'd, and dispos'd so well, Surprizing Lustre from thy Thought receive, Assuming Beauties more than Nature gave. To Her their various Shapes, and glossy Hue, Their curious Symmetry they owe to You. Not fam'd Amphion's Lute,—whose powerful Call Made Willing Stones dance to the Theban Wall, In more harmonious Ranks cou'd make them fall. Not Ev'ning Cloud a brighter Arch can show, Nor richer Colours paint the heav'nly Bow.

Where can unpolished Nature boast a Piece, In all her Mossie Cells exact as This? At the gay parti-color'd Scene—we start, For Chance too regular, too rude for Art,

Charmed with the sight, my ravish'd Breast is fir'd With Hints like those which ancient Bards inspir'd; All the feign'd Tales by Superstition told, All the bright Train of fabled Nymphs of Old, Th' enthusiastick Muse believes are true, Thinks the Spot sacred, and its Genius You. Lost in wild Rapture, wou'd she fain disclose, How by degrees the pleasing Wonder rose: Industrious in a faithful Verse to trace The various Beauties of the lovely Place; And while she keeps the glowing Work in View, Thro' ev'ry Maze thy Artful Hand pursue.

Oh were I equal to the bold Design, Or cou'd I boast such happy Art as Thine! That cou'd rude Shells in such sweet Order place, Give common Objects such uncommon Grace! Like them my well-chose Words in ev'ry Line, As sweetly temper'd should as sweetly shine. So just a Fancy shou'd my Numbers warm, Like the gay Piece shou'd the Description charm. Then with superior Strength my Voice I'd raise, The echoing Grotto shou'd approve my Lays, Pleas'd to reflect the well-sung Founder's Praise.



[Footnote 1: His boast was that he had been the author of a book and father of a child for 20 years successively.]



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No. 633. Wednesday, December 15, 1714. Z. Pearce.



'Omnia profecto, cum se a coelestibus rebus referet ad humanas, excelsius magnificentiusque et dicet et sentiet.'

Cicer.



The following Discourse is printed, as it came to my Hands, without Variation.

Cambridge, Dec. 12.

'It was a very common Enquiry among the Ancients why the Number of excellent Orators, under all the Encouragements the most flourishing States could give them, fell so far short of the Number of those who excelled in all other Sciences. A Friend of mine used merrily to apply to this Case an Observation of Herodotus, who says, That the most useful Animals are the most fruitful in their Generation; whereas the Species of those Beasts that are fierce and mischievous to Mankind are but scarcely continued. The Historian instances in a Hare, which always either breeds or brings forth; and a Lioness, which brings forth but once, and then loses all Power of Conception. But, leaving my Friend to his Mirth, I am of Opinion, that in these latter Ages we have greater Cause of Complaint than the Ancients had. And since that solemn Festival is approaching, which calls for all the Power of Oratory, and which affords as noble a Subject for the Pulpit as any Revelation has taught us, the Design of this Paper shall be to show, that our Moderns have greater Advantages towards true and solid Eloquence, than any which the celebrated Speakers of Antiquity enjoy'd.

'The first great and substantial Difference is, that their Common-Places, in which almost the whole Force of Amplification consists, were drawn from the Profit or Honesty of the Action, as they regarded only this present State of Duration. But Christianity, as it exalts Morality to a greater Perfection, as it brings the Consideration of another Life into the Question, as it proposes Rewards and Punishments of a higher Nature, and a longer Continuance, is more adapted to affect the Minds of the Audience, naturally inclined to pursue what it imagines its greatest Interest and Concern. If Pericles, as Historians report, could shake the firmest Resolutions of his Hearers, and set the Passions of all Greece in a Ferment, when the present Welfare of his Country, or the Fear of hostile Invasions, was the Subject: What may be expected from that Orator, who warns his Audience against those Evils which have no Remedy, when once undergone, either from Prudence or Time? As much greater as the Evils in a future State are than these at present, so much are the Motives to Persuasion under Christianity greater than those which meer moral Considerations could supply us with. But what I now mention relates only to the Power of moving the Affections. There is another Part of Eloquence, which is indeed its Master-piece; I mean the Marvellous or Sublime. In this the Christian Orator has the Advantage beyond Contradiction. Our Ideas are so infinitely enlarged by Revelation, the Eye of Reason has so wide a Prospect into Eternity, the Notions of a Deity are so worthy and refined, and the Accounts we have of a State of Happiness or Misery so clear and evident, that the Contemplation of such Objects will give our Discourse a noble Vigour, an invincible Force, beyond the Power of any human Consideration. Tully requires in his Perfect Orator some Skill in the Nature of Heavenly Bodies, because, says he, his Mind will become more extensive and unconfined; and when he descends to treat of human Affairs, he will both think and write in a more exalted and magnificent Manner. For the same Reason that excellent Master would have recommended the Study of those great and glorious Mysteries which Revelation has discovered to us; to which the noblest Parts of this System of the World are as much inferiour, as the Creature is less excellent than its Creator. The wisest and most knowing among the Heathens had very poor and imperfect Notions of a future State. They had indeed some uncertain Hopes, either received by Tradition, or, gathered by Reason, that the Existence of virtuous Men would not be determined by the Separation of Soul and Body: But they either disbelieved a future State of Punishment and Misery, or upon the same Account that Apelles painted Antigonus with one Side only towards the Spectator, that the Loss of his Eye might not cast a Blemish upon the whole Piece; so these represented the Condition of Man in its fairest View, and endeavoured to conceal what they thought was a Deformity to human Nature. I have often observed, that whenever the abovementioned Orator in his Philosophical Discourses is led by his Argument to the Mention of Immortality, he seems like one awaked out of Sleep, rous'd and alarm'd with the Dignity of the Subject, he stretches his Imagination to conceive something uncommon, and with the greatness of his Thoughts, casts, as it were, a Glory round the Sentence; Uncertain and unsettled as he was, he seems fired with the Contemplation of it. And nothing but such a Glorious Prospect could have forced so great a Lover of Truth, as he was, to declare his Resolution never to part with his Persuasion of Immortality, though it should be proved to be an erroneous one. But had he lived to see all that Christianity has brought to Light, how would he have lavished out all the Force of Eloquence in those noblest Contemplations which humane Nature is capable of, the Resurrection and the Judgment that follows it? How had his Breast glowed with Pleasure, when the whole Compass of Futurity lay open and exposed to his View? How would his Imagination have hurried him on in the Pursuit of the Mysteries of the Incarnation? How would he have enter'd, with the Force of Lightning, into the Affections of his Hearers, and fixed their Attention, in spite of all the Opposition of corrupt Nature, upon those glorious Themes which his Eloquence hath painted in such lively and lasting Colours?

'This Advantage Christians have; and it was with no small Pleasure I lately met with a Fragment of Longinus, which is preserv'd, as a Testimony of that Critick's Judgment, at the Beginning of a Manuscript of the New Testament in the Vatican Library. After that Author has number'd up the most celebrated Orators among the Grecians, he says, Add to these Paul of Tarsus, the Patron of an Opinion not yet fully proved. As a Heathen, he condemns the Christian Religion; and, as an impartial Critick, he judges in Favour of the Promoter and Preacher of it. To me it seems, that the latter Part of his Judgment adds great Weight to his Opinion of St. Paul's Abilities, since, under all the Prejudice of Opinions directly opposite, he is constrained to acknowledge the Merit of that Apostle. And, no doubt, such as Longinus describes St. Paul, such he appeared to the Inhabitants of those Countries which he visited and blessed with those Doctrines was divinely commissioned to preach. Sacred Story gives us, in one Circumstance, a convincing Proof of his Eloquence, when the Men of Lystra called him Mercury, because he was the chief Speaker, and would have paid Divine Worship to him, as to the God who invented and presided over Eloquence. This one Account of our Apostle sets his Character, consider'd as an Orator only, above all the celebrated Relations of the Skill and Influence of Demosthenes and his Contemporaries. Their Power in Speaking was admired, but still it was thought human: Their Eloquence warmed and ravished the Hearers, but still it was thought the Voice of Man, not the Voice of God. What Advantage then had St. Paul above those of Greece, or Rome? I confess I can ascribe this Excellence to nothing but the Power of the Doctrines he delivered, which may have still the same Influence on the Hearers; which have still the Power, when preached by a skilful Orator, to make us break out in the same Expressions, as the Disciples who met our Saviour in their Way to Emmaus, made use of; Did not our Hearts burn within us, when he talked to us by the Way, and while he opened to us the Scriptures? I may be thought bold in my Judgment by some; but I must affirm, That no one Orator has left us so visible Marks and Footsteps of his Eloquence as our Apostle. It may perhaps be wondered at, that in his Reasonings upon Idolatry at Athens, where Eloquence was born and flourished, he confines himself to strict Argument only; but my Reader may remember what many Authors of the best Credit have assured us, That all Attempts upon the Affections and Strokes of Oratory were expressly forbidden, by the Laws of that Country, in Courts of Judicature. His want of Eloquence therefore here, was the Effect of his exact Conformity to the Laws. But his Discourse on the Resurrection to the Corinthians, his Harangue before Agrippa upon his own Conversion and the Necessity of that of others, are truly Great, and may serve as full Examples to those excellent Rules for the Sublime, which the best of Criticks has left us. The Sum of all this Discourse is, That our Clergy have no farther to look for an Example of the Perfection they may arrive at, than to St. Paul's Harangues; that when he, under the Want of several Advantages of Nature (as he himself tells us) was heard, admired, and made a Standard to succeeding Ages by the best Judge of a different Persuasion in Religion, I say our Clergy may learn, That, however instructive their Sermons are, they are capable of receiving a great Addition; which St. Paul has given them a noble Example of, and the Christian Religion has furnished them with certain Means of attaining to.'



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No. 634. Friday, December 17, 1714.



[Greek: Ho elachiston deomenos eggista theon.]

Socrates apud Xen.



It was the common Boast of the Heathen Philosophers, that by the Efficacy of their several Doctrines, they made Humane Nature resemble the Divine. How much mistaken soever they might be in the several Means they proposed for this End, it must be owned that the Design was great and glorious. The finest Works of Invention and Imagination are of very little Weight, when put in the Balance with what refines and exalts the rational Mind. Longinus excuses Homer very handsomely, when he says the Poet made his Gods like Men, that he might make his Men appear like the Gods: But it must be allowed that several of the ancient Philosophers acted, as Cicero wishes Homer had done; they endeavoured rather to make Men like Gods, than Gods like Men.

According to this general Maxim in Philosophy, some of them have endeavoured to place Men in such a State of Pleasure, or Indolence at least, as they vainly imagined the Happiness of the Supreme Being to consist in. On the other Hand, the most virtuous Sect of Philosophers have created a chimerical wise Man, whom they made exempt from Passion and Pain, and thought it enough to pronounce him All-sufficient.

This last Character, when divested of the Glare of Humane Philosophy that surrounds it, signifies no more, than that a Good and Wise Man should so arm himself with Patience, as not to yield tamely to the Violence of Passion and Pain; that he should learn so to suppress and contract his Desires as to have few Wants; and that he should cherish so many Virtues in his Soul, as to have a perpetual Source of Pleasure in himself.

The Christian Religion requires, that, after having framed the best Idea, we are able, of the Divine Nature, it should be our next Care to conform our selves to it, as far as our Imperfections will permit. I might mention several Passages in the sacred Writings on this Head, to which I might add many Maxims and wise Sayings of Moral Authors among the Greeks and Romans.

I shall only instance a remarkable Passage, to this Purpose, out of Julian's Caesars. The Emperor having represented all the Roman Emperors, with Alexander the Great, as passing in Review before the Gods, and striving for the Superiority, lets them all drop, excepting Alexander, Julius Caesar, Augustus Caesar, Trajan, Marcus Aurelius, and Constantine. Each of these great Heroes of Antiquity lays in his Claim for the upper Place; and, in Order to it, sets forth his Actions after the most advantageous Manner. But the Gods, instead of being dazzled with the Lustre of their Actions, enquire, by Mercury, into the proper Motive and governing Principle that influenced them throughout the whole Series of their Lives and Exploits. Alexander tells them, That his Aim was to conquer: Julius Caesar, that his was to gain the highest Post in his Country; Augustus, To govern well; Trajan, That His was the same as that of Alexander, namely, To conquer. The Question, at length, was put to Marcus Aurelius, who replied, with great Modesty, That it had always been his Care to imitate the Gods. This Conduct seems to have gained him the most Votes and best Place in the whole Assembly. Marcus Aurelius being afterwards asked to explain himself declares, That, by imitating the Gods, he endeavoured to imitate them in the Use of his Understanding, and of all other Faculties; and, in particular, That it was always his Study to have as few Wants as possible in himself, and to do all the Good he could to others.

Among the many Methods by which Revealed Religion has advanced Morality, this is one, That it has given us a more just and perfect Idea of that Being whom every reasonable Creature ought to imitate. The young Man, in a Heathen Comedy, might justify his Lewdness by the Example of Jupiter; as, indeed, there was scarce any Crime that might not be countenanced by those Notions of the Deity which prevailed among the common People in the Heathen World. Revealed Religion sets forth a proper Object for Imitation, in that Being who is the Pattern, as well as the Source, of all spiritual Perfection.

While we remain in this Life, we are subject to innumerable Temptations, which, if listen'd to, will make us deviate from Reason and Goodness, the only Things wherein we can imitate the Supreme Being. In the next Life we meet with nothing to excite our Inclinations that doth not deserve them. I shall therefore dismiss my Reader with this Maxim, viz. Our Happiness in this World proceeds from the Suppression of our Desires, but in the next World from the Gratification of them.



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No. 635. Monday, December 20, 1714. Henry Grove.

'Sentio Te sedem Hominum ac Domum contemplarique si tibi parva (ut est) ita videtur, haec coelestia semper Spectato; illa humana contemnito.'

Cicero Somn. Scip.

The following Essay comes from the ingenious Author of the Letter upon Novelty, printed in a late Spectator: The Notions are drawn from the Platonick way of Thinking, but as they contribute to raise the Mind, and may inspire noble Sentiments of our own future Grandeur and Happiness, I think it well deserves to be presented to the Publick.

If the Universe be the Creature of an intelligent Mind, this Mind could have no immediate Regard to himself in producing it. He needed not to make Tryal of his Omnipotence, to be informed what Effects were within its Reach: The World as existing in his eternal Idea was then as beautiful as now it is drawn forth into Being; and in the immense Abyss of his Essence are contained far brighter Scenes than will be ever set forth to View; it being impossible that the great Author of Nature should bound his own Power by giving Existence to a System of Creatures so perfect that he cannot improve upon it by any other Exertions of his Almighty Will. Between Finite and Infinite there is an unmeasured Interval, not to be filled up in endless Ages; for which Reason, the most excellent of all God's Works must be equally short of what his Power is able to produce as the most imperfect, and may be exceeded with the same Ease.

This Thought hath made some imagine, (what, it must be confest, is not impossible) that the unfathomed Space is ever teeming with new Births, the younger still inheriting a greater Perfection than the elder. But as this doth not fall within my present View, I shall content my self with taking Notice, that the Consideration now mentioned proves undeniably, that the Ideal Worlds in the Divine Understanding yield a Prospect incomparably more ample, various and delightful than any Created World can do: And that therefore as it is not to be supposed that God should make a World merely of inanimate Matter, however diversified; or inhabited only by Creatures of no higher an Order than Brutes; so the End for which he designed his reasonable Offspring is the Contemplation of his Works, the Enjoyment of himself, and in both to be happy, having, to this Purpose, endowed them with correspondent Faculties and Desires. He can have no greater Pleasure from a bare Review of his Works, than from the Survey of his own Ideas, but we may be assured that he is well pleased in the Satisfaction derived to Beings capable of it, and, for whose Entertainment, he hath erected this immense Theatre. Is not this more than an Intimation of our Immortality? Man, who when considered as on his Probation for a happy Existence hereafter is the most remarkable Instance of Divine Wisdom; if we cut him off from all Relation to Eternity, is the most wonderful and unaccountable Composition in the whole Creation. He hath Capacities to lodge a much greater Variety of Knowledge than he will be ever Master of, and an unsatisfied Curiosity to tread the secret Paths of Nature and Providence: But, with this, his Organs, in their present Structure, are rather fitted to serve the Necessities of a vile Body, than to minister to his Understanding; and from the little Spot to which he is chained, he can frame but wandering Guesses concerning the innumerable Worlds of Light that encompass him, which, tho' in themselves of a prodigious Bigness, do but just glimmer in the remote Spaces of the Heavens; and, when with a great deal of Time and Pains he hath laboured a little way up the steep Ascent of Truth, and beholds with Pity the groveling Multitude beneath, in a Moment, his Foot slides, and he tumbles down headlong into the Grave.

Thinking on this, I am obliged to believe, in Justice to the Creator of the World, that there is another State when Man shall be better situated for Contemplation, or rather have it in his Power to remove from Object to Object, and from World to World; and be accommodated with Senses, and other Helps, for making the quickest and most amazing Discoveries. How doth such a Genius as Sir Isaac Newton, from amidst the Darkness that involves human Understanding, break forth, and appear like one of another Species! The vast Machine, we inhabit, lyes open to him, he seems not unacquainted with the general Laws that govern it; and while with the Transport of a Philosopher he beholds and admires the glorious Work, he is capable of paying at once a more devout and more rational Homage to his Maker. But alas! how narrow is the Prospect even of such a Mind? and how obscure to the Compass that is taken in by the Ken of an Angel; or of a Soul but newly escaped from its Imprisonment in the Body! For my Part, I freely indulge my Soul in the Confidence of its future Grandeur; it pleases me to think that I who know so small a portion of the Works of the Creator, and with slow and painful Steps creep up and down on the Surface of this Globe, shall e'er long shoot away with the Swiftness of Imagination, trace out the hidden Springs of Nature's Operations, be able to keep pace with the heavenly Bodies in the Rapidity of their Career, be a Spectator of the long Chain of Events in the natural and Moral Worlds, visit the several Apartments of the Creation, know how they are furnished and how inhabited, comprehend the Order, and measure the Magnitudes, and Distances of those Orbs, which to us seem disposed without any regular Design, and set all in the same Circle; observe the Dependance of the Parts of each System, and (if our Minds are big enough to grasp the Theory) of the several Systems upon one another, from whence results the Harmony of the Universe. In Eternity a great deal may be done of this kind. I find it of use to cherish this generous Ambition: for besides the secret Refreshment it diffuses through my Soul, it engages me in an Endeavour to improve my Faculties, as well as to exercise them conformably to the Rank I now hold among reasonable Beings, and the Hope I have of being once advanced to a more exalted Station.

The other, and that the Ultimate End of Man, is the Enjoyment of God, beyond which he cannot form a Wish. Dim at best are the Conceptions we have of the Supreme Being, who, as it were, keeps his Creatures in Suspence, neither discovering, nor hiding himself; by which Means, the Libertine hath a Handle to dispute his Existence, while the most are content to speak him fair, but in their Hearts prefer every trifling Satisfaction to the Favour of their Maker, and ridicule the good Man for the Singularity of his Choice. Will there not a Time come, when the Free-thinker shall see his impious Schemes overturned, and be made a Convert to the Truths he hates; when deluded Mortals shall be convinced of the Folly of their Pursuits, and the few Wise who followed the Guidance of Heaven, and, scorning the Blandishments of Sense and the sordid Bribery of the World, aspired to a celestial Abode, shall stand possessed of their utmost Wish in the Vision of the Creator? Here the Mind heaves a Thought now and then towards him, and hath some transient Glances of his Presence: When, in the Instant it thinks it self to have the fastest hold, the Object eludes its Expectations, and it falls back tired and baffled to the Ground. Doubtless there is some more perfect way of conversing with heavenly Beings. Are not Spirits capable of Mutual Intelligence, unless immersed in Bodies, or by their Intervention? Must superior Natures depend on inferior for the main Privilege of sociable Beings, that of conversing with, and knowing each other? What would they have done, had Matter never been created? I suppose, not have lived in eternal Solitude. As incorporeal Substances are of a nobler Order, so be sure, their manner of Intercourse is answerably more expedite and intimate. This method of Communication, we call Intellectual Vision, as somewhat Analogous to the Sense of Seeing, which is the Medium of our Acquaintance with this visible World. And in some such way can God make himself the Object of immediate Intuition to the Blessed; and as he can, 'tis not improbable that he will, always condescending, in the Circumstances of doing it, to the Weakness and Proportion of finite Minds. His Works but faintly reflect the Image of his Perfections, 'tis a Second-hand Knowledge: To have a just Idea of him, it may be necessary that we see him as he is. But what is that? 'Tis something, that never entered into the Heart of Man to conceive; yet what we can easily conceive, will be a Fountain of Unspeakable, of Everlasting Rapture. All created Glories will fade and die away in his Presence. Perhaps it will be my Happiness to compare the World with the fair Exemplar of it in the Divine Mind; perhaps, to view the original Plan of those wise Designs that have been executing in a long Succession of Ages. Thus employed in finding out his Works, and contemplating their Author! how shall I fall prostrate and adoring, my Body swallowed up in the Immensity of Matter, my Mind in the Infinitude of his Perfections.



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ADDITIONAL NOTES.



To No. 123.

The following letter, dated July 21, 1711, was sent by Addison to his friend Mr. Wortley Montagu, with No. 123 of the Spectator.

'Dear Sir,

'Being very well pleased with this day's Spectator I cannot forbear sending you one of them, and desiring your opinion of the story in it. When you have a son I shall be glad to be his Leontine, as my circumstances will probably be like his. I have within this twelvemonth lost a place of L200 per ann., an estate in the Indies of L14,000, and what is worse than all the rest, my mistress. Hear this, and wonder at my philosophy. I find they are going to take away my Irish place from me too: to which I must add, that I have just resigned my fellowship, and that stocks sink every day. If you have any hints or subjects, pray send me up a paper full. I long to talk an evening with you. I believe I shall not go for Ireland this summer, and perhaps would pass a month with you if I knew where. Lady Bellasis is very much your humble servant. Dick Steele and I often remember you.'

I am, Dear Sir, Yours eternally.



To Nos. 453, 461, and 465.

The Retrospective Review, vol. xi. for 1825, in a cordially appreciative review of the writings of Marvell, says,

'Captain Thompson was a very incorrect and injudicious editor of Marvell's works. A very contemptible charge of plagiarism is also preferred by the editor against Addison for the insertion of three hymns in the Spectator, Nos. 453, 461, and 465; no proof whatever is vouchsafed that they belong to Marvell, and the hymn inserted in the Spectator, No. 461, "When Israel freed from Pharaoh's land," is now known to be the noble composition of Dr. Watts.'

Captain Edward Thompson's edition of Marvell in 3 volumes quarto was printed for the editor in 1776. Its great blunder was immediately disposed of in the Gentleman's Magazine for September, 1776, and February, 1777, where it was shown for example that Dr. Watts had claimed and transferred his version of the 114th Psalm (which Captain Thompson supposed to have been claimed by 'Tickle') to his volume of Divine Psalms and Hymns, published in 1719. In the preface to that volume Dr. Watts wrote,

'Where I have used three or four lines together of any author I have acknowledged it in the notes.'

He did make frequent acknowledgment of lines or thoughts taken from other poets in Psalms 6, 21, 63, 104, 139. But in a note to Ps. 114 he absolutely spoke of the work as his own. Now the ground upon which Thompson ascribed this piece to Marvell is precisely that on which he also ascribed to Marvell Addison's poems in Nos. 453 and 465 of the Spectator. He found them all in the latter part of a book of extracts of which he said that the first part was in Marvell's handwriting, 'and the rest copied by his order.' It is very doubtful whether even the first part of the MS. book, containing verse of Marvell's, was really in Marvell's handwriting, and that the part written later was copied by his order, is an unfounded assumption. Captain Thompson said of the MS. book that it was many years in the care of Mr. Nettleton, and communicated to the editor by Mr. Thomas Raikes.—Probably it was Mr. Nettleton who in his youth had added to the book copies of Addison's and Dr. Watts's verses from the Spectator, and Mallet's version of the old ballad of William and Margaret, all of which pieces Captain Edward Thompson therefore supposed to have been written by Marvell.



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TRANSLATIONS OF THE MOTTOS.

No.

1. HOR. Ars Poet. ver. 143.

'One with a flash begins, and ends in smoke; Another out of smoke brings glorious light, And (without raising expectation high) Surprises us with dazzling miracles.'

(Roscommon).



2. JUV. Sat. vii. 167.

'Six more, at least, join their consenting voice.'



3. LUCR. 1. iv. 959.

'—What studies please, what most delight, And fill men's thoughts, they dream them o'er at night.'

(Creech).



4. HOR. 2 Sat. vi. 58.

'One of uncommon silence and reserve.'



5. HOR. Ars Poet. ver. 5.

'Admitted to the sight, would you not laugh?'



6. JUV. Sat. xiii. 54.

' 'Twas impious then (so much was age revered) For youth to keep their seats when an old man appear'd.'



7. HOR. 2 Ep. ii. 208.

'Visions and magic spells can you despise, And laugh at witches, ghosts, and prodigies?'



8. VIRG. AEn. i. 415.

'They march obscure, for Venus kindly shrouds With mists their persons, and involves in clouds.'

(Dryden).



9. JUV. Sat. xv. 163.

'Tiger with tiger, bear with bear, you'll find In leagues offensive and defensive join'd.'

(Tate).



10. VIRG. Georg. i. 201.

'So the boat's brawny crew the current stem, And, slow advancing, struggle with the stream: But if they slack their hands, or cease to strive, Then down the flood with headlong haste they drive.'

(Dryden).



11. JUV. Sat. ii. 63.

'The doves are censured, while the crows are spared.'



12. PERS. Sat. v. 92.

'I root th' old woman from thy trembling heart.'



13. MART.

'Were you a lion, how would you behave?'



14. OVID, Met. iv. 590.

'Wretch that thou art! put off this monstrous shape.'



15. OVID, Ars Am. i. 159.

'Light minds are pleased with trifles.'



16. HOR. 1 Ep. i. ii.

'What right, what true, what fit we justly call, Let this be all my care—for this is all.'

(Pope).



17. JUV. x. 191.

'—A visage rough, Deform'd, unfeatured.'



18. HOR. 2 Ep. i. 187.

'But now our nobles too are fops and vain, Neglect the sense, but love the painted scene.'

(Creech).



19. HOR. 1 Sat. iv. 17.

'Thank Heaven, that made me of an humble mind; To action little, less to words inclined!'



20. HOM.

'Thou dog in forehead.'

(Pope).



21. HOR. 1 Ep. v. 28.

'There's room enough, and each may bring his friend.'

(Creech).



22. HOR. Ars Poet. ver. 5.

'—Whatever contradicts my sense I hate to see, and never can believe.'

(Roscommon).



23. VIRG. AEn. ix. 420.

'Fierce Volscens foams with rage, and gazing round, Descry'd not him who gave the fatal wound; Nor knew to fix revenge.'

(Dryden).



24. HOR. 1 Sat. ix. 3.

'Comes up a fop (I knew him but by fame), And seized my hand, and call'd me by name— —My dear!—how dost?'



25. VIRG. AEn. xii. 46.

'And sickens by the very means of health.'



26. HOR. 1 Od. iv. 13.

'With equal foot, rich friend, impartial fate Knocks at the cottage and the palace gate: Life's span forbids thee to extend thy cares, And stretch thy hopes beyond thy years: Night soon will seize, and you must quickly go To storied ghosts, and Pluto's house below.'

(Creech).

27. HOR. 1 Ep. i 20. Imitated.

'Long as to him, who works for debt, the day; Long as the night to her, whose love's away; Long as the year's dull circle seems to run When the brisk minor pants for twenty-one: So slow th' unprofitable moments roll, That lock up all the functions of my soul; That keep me from myself, and still delay Life's instant business to a future day: That task, which as we follow, or despise, The eldest is a fool, the youngest wise: Which done, the poorest can no wants endure, And which not done, the richest must be poor.'

(Pope).



28. HOR. 2 Od. x. 19.

'Nor does Apollo always bend his bow.'



29. HOR. 1 Sat. x. 23.

'Both tongues united, sweeter sounds produce, Like Chian mixed with Palernian juice.'



30. HOR. 1 Ep. vi. 65.

'If nothing, as Mimnermus strives to prove, Can e'er be pleasant without mirth and love, Then live in mirth and love, thy sports pursue.'

(Creech).



31. VIRG. AEn. vi. 266.

'What I have heard, permit me to relate.'



32. HOR. 1 Sat. v. 64.

'He wants no tragic vizor to increase His natural deformity of face.'



33. HOR. 1 Od. xxx. 5.

'The graces with their zones unloosed; The nymphs, with beauties all exposed From every spring, and every plain; Thy powerful, hot, and winged boy; And youth, that's dull without thy joy; And Mercury, compose thy train.'

(Creech).



34. JUV. Sat. xv. 159.

'From spotted skins the leopard does refrain.'

(Tate).



35. CATULL. Carm. 39. in Enat.

'Nothing so foolish as the laugh of fools.'



36. VIRG. AEn. iii. 583.

'Things the most out of nature we endure.'



37. VIRG. AEn. vii. 805.

'Unbred to spinning, in the loom unskill'd.'

(Dryden).



38. MART.

'One would not please too much.'



39. HOR. 2 Ep. ii. 102. Imitated.

'Much do I suffer, much, to keep in peace This jealous, waspish, wrong-headed rhyming race.'

(Pope).



40. HOR. 2 Ep. i. 208. Imitated.

'Yet lest you think I rally more than teach, Or praise, malignant, arts I cannot reach, Let me for once presume t' instruct the times, To know the poet from the man of rhymes; 'Tis he, who gives my breast a thousand pains, Can make me feel each passion that he feigns; Enrage, compose, with more than magic art, With pity, and with terror, tear my heart; And snatch me o'er the earth, or through the air, To Thebes, to Athens, when he will, and where.'

(Pope).



41. OVID, Met. i. 654.

'So found, is worse than lost.'

(Addison).



42. HOR. 2 Ep. i. 202. Imitated.

'Loud as the wolves on Orca's stormy steep, Howl to the roarings of the northern deep: Such is the shout, the long applauding note, At Quin's high plume, or Oldfield's petticoat: Or when from court a birth-day suit bestow'd Sinks the last actor in the tawdry load. Booth enters—hark! the universal peal!— But has he spoken?—Not a syllable— What shook the stage, and made the people stare? Cato's long wig, flower'd gown, and lacker'd chair.'

(Pope).



43. VIRG. AEn. vi. 854.

'Be these thy arts; to bid contention cease, Chain up stern wars, and give the nations peace; O'er subject lands extend thy gentle sway, And teach with iron rod the haughty to obey.'



44. HOR. Ars Poet. ver. 123.

'Now hear what every auditor expects.'

(Roscommon).



45. Juv. Sat. iii. 100.

'The nation is a company of players.'



46. OVID, Met. 1. i. ver. 9.

'The jarring seeds of ill-concerted things.'



47. MART.

'Laugh, if you are wise.'



48. OVID, Met. xiv. 652.

'Through various shapes he often finds access.'



49. MART.

'Men and manners I describe.'



50. JUN. Sat. xix. 321.

'Good taste and nature always speak the same.'



51. HOR. 1 Ep. ii. 127.

'He from the taste obscene reclaims our youth.'

(Pope).



52. VIRG. AEn. i. 78.

'To crown thy worth, she shall be ever thine, And make thee father of a beauteous line.'



53. HOR. Ars Poet. ver. 359.

'Homer himself hath been observed to nod.'

(Roscommon).



54. HOR. 1. Ep. xi. 28.

'Laborious idleness our powers employs.'



55. PERS. Sat. v. 129.

'Our passions play the tyrants in our breasts.'



56. LUCAN, i. 454.

'Happy in their mistake.'



57. JUV. Sat. vi. 251.

'What sense of shame in woman's breast can lie, Inured to arms, and her own sex to fly?'



58. HOR. Ars Poet. ver. 361.

'Poems like pictures are.'



59. SENECA.

'Busy about nothing.'



60. PERS. Sat. iii. 85.

'Is it for this you gain those meagre looks, And sacrifice your dinner to your books?'



61. PERS. Sat. v. 19.

' 'Tis not indeed my talent to engage In lofty trifles, or to swell my page With wind and noise.'

(Dryden).



62. HOR. Ars Poet. ver. 309.

'Sound judgment is the ground of writing well.'

(Roscommon).



63. HOR. Ars Poet. ver. i.

'If in a picture, Piso, you should see A handsome woman with a fish's tail, Or a man's head upon a horse's neck, Or limbs of beasts, of the most different kinds, Cover'd with feathers of all sorts of birds; Would you not laugh, and think the painter mad? Trust me that book is as ridiculous, Whose incoherent style, like sick men's dreams, Varies all shapes, and mixes all extremes.'

(Roscommon).



64. JUV. Sat. iii. 183.

'The face of wealth in poverty we wear.'



65. HOR. 1 Sat. x. 90.

'Demetrius and Tigellius, know your place; Go hence, and whine among the school-boy race.'



66. HOR. 1 Od. vi. 21.

'Behold a ripe and melting maid Bound 'prentice to the wanton trade: Ionian artists, at a mighty price, Instruct her in the mysteries of vice, What nets to spread, where subtle baits to lay; And with an early hand they form the temper'd clay.'

(Roscommon).



67. SALLUST.

'Too fine a dancer for a virtuous woman.'



68. OVID, Met. i. 355.

'We two are a multitude.'



69. VIRG. Georg. i. 54.

'This ground with Bacchus, that with Ceres suits; That other loads the trees with happy fruits, A fourth with grass, unbidden, decks the ground: Thus Tmolus is with yellow saffron crown'd; India black ebon and white iv'ry bears; And soft Idume weeps her od'rous tears: Thus Pontus sends her beaver stones from far: And naked Spaniards temper steel for war: Epirus for th' Elean chariot breeds (In hopes of palms) a race of running steeds. This is th' original contract; these the laws Imposed by nature, and by nature's cause.'

(Dryden).



70. HOR. 1 Ep. ii. 63.

'Sometimes the vulgar see and judge aright.'



71. OVID, Epist. iv. 10.

'Love bade me write.'



72. VIRG. Georg. iv. 208.

'Th' immortal line in sure succession reigns, The fortune of the family remains, And grandsires' grandsons the long list contains.'

(Dryden).



73. VIRG. AEn. i. 328.

'O Goddess! for no less you seem.'



74. VIRG. AEn. iv. 88.

'The works unfinish'd and neglected lie.'



75. HOR. 1 Ep. xvii. 23.

'All fortune fitted Aristippus well.'

(Creech).



76. HOR. 1 Ep. viii. 17.

'As you your fortune bear, we will bear you.'

(Creech).



77. MART. Epig. i. 87.

'What correspondence can I hold with you, Who are so near, and yet so distant too?'



78. 'Could we but call so great a genius ours!'



79. HOR. 1 Ep. xvi. 52.

'The good, for virtue's sake, abhor to sin.'

(Creech).



80. HOR. 1 Ep. ix. 27.

'Those that beyond sea go, will sadly find, They change their climate only, not their mind.'

(Creech).



81. STAT. Theb. ii. 128.

'As when the tigress hears the hunter's din, Dark angry spots distain her glossy skin.'



82. JUV. Sat iii. 33.

'His fortunes ruin'd, and himself a slave.'



83. VIRG. AEn. i. 464.

'And with the shadowy picture feeds his mind.'



84. VIRG. AEn. ii. 6.

'Who can such woes relate, without a tear, As stern Ulysses must have wept to hear?'



85. HOR. Ars Poet. ver. 319.

'—When the sentiments and manners please, And all the characters are wrought with ease, Your tale, though void of beauty, force, and art, More strongly shall delight, and warm the heart; Than where a lifeless pomp of verse appears, And with sonorous trifles charms our ears.'

(Francis).



86. OVID, Met. ii. 447.

'How in the looks does conscious guilt appear!'

(Addison).



87. VIRG. Ecl. ii. 17.

'Trust not too much to an enchanting face.'

(Dryden).



88. VIRG. Ecl. iii. 16.

'What will not masters do, when servants thus presume?'



89. PERS. Sat. v. 64.

PERS. From thee both old and young with profit learn The bounds of good and evil to discern.

CORN. Unhappy he, who does this work adjourn, And to to-morrow would the search delay: His lazy morrow will be like to-day.

PERS. But is one day of ease too much to borrow?

CORN. Yes, sure; for yesterday was once to-morrow: That yesterday is gone, and nothing gain'd; And all thy fruitless days will thus be drain'd, For thou hast more to-morrows yet to ask, And wilt be ever to begin thy task; Who, like the hindmost chariot-wheels, are curst, Still to be near, but ne'er to reach the first.

(Dryden).

90. VIRG. Georg. iii. 90.

'In all the rage of impotent desire, They feel a quenchless flame, a fruitless fire.'



91. VIRG. Georg. iii. 244.

'—They rush into the flame; For love is lord of all, and is in all the same.'

(Dryden).



92. HOR. 2 Ep. ii. 61. Imitated.

'—What would you have me do, When out of twenty I can please not two?— One likes the pheasant's wing, and one the leg; The vulgar boil, the learned roast an egg; Hard task, to hit the palate of such guests.'

(Pope).



93. HOR. 1 Od. xi. 6.

'Thy lengthen'd hopes with prudence bound Proportion'd to the flying hour: While thus we talk in careless ease, The envious moments wing their flight; Instant the fleeting pleasure seize, Nor trust to-morrow's doubtful light.'

(Francis).



94. MART. Epig. xxiii. 10.

'The present joys of life we doubly taste, By looking back with pleasure to the past.'



95. SENECA, Trag.

'Light sorrows loose the tongue, but great enchain.'

(P.)



96. HOR. 2 Sat. vii. 2.

'—The faithful servant, and the true.'

(Creech).



97. VIRG. AEn. vi. 436.

'They prodigally threw their lives away.'



98. JUV. Sat. vi. 500.

'So studiously their persons they adorn.'



99. HOR. 1 Sat. vi. 63.

'You know to fix the bounds of right and wrong.'



100. HOR. 1 Sat. v. 44.

'The greatest blessing is a pleasant friend.'



101. HOR. 2 Ep. i. 5. Imitated.

'Edward and Henry, now the boast of fame, And virtuous Alfred, a more sacred name, After a life of generous toils endured, The Gaul subdued, or property secured, Ambition humbled, mighty cities storm'd, Or laws established, and the world reform'd: Closed their long glories with a sigh to find Th' unwilling gratitude of base mankind.'

(Pope).



102. PHAEDR. Fab. xiv. 3.

'The mind ought sometimes to be diverted, that it may return the better to thinking.'

103. HOR. Ars Poet. v. 240.

'Such all might hope to imitate with ease: Yet while they strive the same success to gain, Should find their labour and their hopes are vain.'

(Francis).



104. VIRG. AEn. i. 316.

'With such array Harpalyce bestrode Her Thracian courser.'

(Dryden).



105. TER. Andr. Act i. Sc. I.

'I take to be a principal rule of life, not to be too much addicted to any one thing.'

'Too much of anything is good for nothing.'

(Eng. Prov.)



106. HOR. 1 Od. xvii. 14.

'Here plenty's liberal horn shall pour Of fruits for thee a copious show'r, Rich honours of the quiet plain.'



107. PHAEDR. Epilog. i. 2.

'The Athenians erected a large statue to (R)sop, and placed him, though a slave, on a lasting pedestal: to show that the way to honour lies open indifferently to all.'



108. PHAEDR. Fab. v. 2.

'Out of breath to no purpose, and very busy about nothing.'



109. HOR. 2 Sat. ii. 3.

'Of plain good sense, untutor'd in the schools.'



110. VIRG. AEn. ii. 755.

'All things are full of Horror and affright, And dreadful ev'n the silence of the night.'

(Dryden).



111. HOR. 2 Ep. ii. 45.

'To search for truth in academic groves.'



112. PYTHAG.

'First, in obedience to thy country's rites, Worship th' immortal gods.'



113. VIRG. AEn. iv. 4.

'Her looks were deep imprinted in his heart.'



114. HOR. 1 Ep. xviii. 24.

'—The dread of nothing more Than to be thought necessitous and poor.'

(Pooly).



115. JUV. Sat. x. 356.

'Pray for a sound mind in a sound body.'



116. VIRG. Georg. iii. 43.

'The echoing hills and chiding hounds invite.'



117. VIRG. Ecl. viii. 108.

'With voluntary dreams they cheat their minds.'



118. VIRG. AEn. iv. 73.

'—The fatal dart Sticks in his side, and rankles in his heart.'

(Dryden).



119. VIRG. Ecl. i. 20.

'The city men call Rome, unskilful clown, I thought resembled this our humble town.'

(Warton).



120. VIRG. Georg. i. 415.

'—I deem their breasts inspired With a divine sagacity—'



121. VIRG. Ecl. iii. 66.

'—All things are full of Jove.'



122. PUBL. SYR. Frag.

'An agreeable companion upon the road is as good as a coach.'



123. HOR. 4 Od. iv. 33.

'Yet the best blood by learning is refined, And virtue arms the solid mind; Whilst vice will stain the noblest race, And the paternal stamp efface.'

(Oldisworth).



124.

'A great book is a great evil.'



125. VIRG. AEn. vi. 832.

'This thirst of kindred blood, my sons, detest, Nor turn your force against your country's breast.'

(Dryden).



126. VIRG. AEn. x. 108.

'Rutulians, Trojans, are the same to me.'

(Dryden).



127. PERS. Sat. i. 1.

'How much of emptiness we find in things!'



128. LUCAN, i. 98.

'—Harmonious discord.'



129. PERS. Sat. v. 71.

'Thou, like the hindmost chariot-wheels, art curst, Still to be near, but ne'er to be the first.'

(Dryden).



130. VIRG. AEn. vii. 748.

'A plundering race, still eager to invade, On spoil they live, and make of theft a trade.'



131. VIRG. Ecl. x. 63.

'Once more, ye woods, adieu.'



132. TULL.

'That man may be called impertinent, who considers not the circumstances of time, or engrosses the conversation, or makes himself the subject of his discourse, or pays no regard to the company he is in.'



133. HOR. 1 Od. xxiv. 1.

'Such was his worth, our loss is such, We cannot love too well, or grieve too much.'

(Oldisworth).



134. OVID, Met. i. 521.

'And am the great physician call'd below.'

(Dryden).



135. HOR. 1 Sat. x. 9.

'Let brevity dispatch the rapid thought.'



136. HOR. 2 Ep. i. 112.

'A greater liar Parthia never bred.'



137. TULL. Epist.

'Even slaves were always at liberty to fear, rejoice, and grieve at their own, rather than another's, pleasure.'



138. TULL.

'He uses unnecessary proofs in an indisputable point.'



139. TULL.

'True glory takes root, and even spreads; all false pretences, like flowers, fall to the ground; nor can any counterfeit last long.'



140. VIRG. AEn. iv. 285.

'This way and that the anxious mind is torn.'



141. HOR. 1 Ep. ii. 187.

'Taste, that eternal wanderer, that flies From head to ears, and now from ears to eyes.'

(Pope).



142. HOR. 1 Od. xiii. 12.

'Whom love's unbroken bond unites.'



143. MARTIAL, Epig. lxx. 6.

'For life is only life, when blest with health.'



144. TER. Eun. Act iii. Sc. 5.

'You shall see how nice a judge of beauty I am.'



145. HOR. 1 Ep. xviii. 29.

'Their folly pleads the privilege of wealth.'



146. TULL.

'No man was ever great without some degree of inspiration.'



147. TULL.

'Good delivery is a graceful management of the voice, countenance, and gesture.'



148. HOR. 2 Ep. ii. 212.

'Better one thorn pluck'd out, than all remain.'



149. CAECIL. apud TULL.

'Who has it in her power to make men mad, Or wise, or sick, or well: and who can choose The object of her appetite at pleasure.'



150. JUV. Sat. iii. 152.

'What is the scorn of every wealthy fool, And wit in rags is turn'd to ridicule.'

(Dryden).



151. TULL. de Fin.

'Where pleasure prevails, all the greatest virtues will lose their power.'



152. HOM. Il. 6, v. 146.

'Like leaves on trees the race of man is found.'

(Pope).

153. TULL. de Senect.

'Life, as well as all other things, hath its bounds assigned by nature; and its conclusion, like the last act of a play, is old age, the fatigue of which we ought to shun, especially when our appetites are fully satisfied.'



154. JUV. Sat. ii. 83.

'No man e'er reach'd the heights of vice at first.'

(Tate).



155. HOR. Ars Poet. v. 451.

'These things which now seem frivolous and slight, Will prove of serious consequence.'

(Roscommon).



156. HOR. 2 Od. viii. 5.

'—But thou, When once thou hast broke some tender vow, All perjured, dost more charming grow!'



157. HOR. 2 Ep. ii. 187. Imitated.

'—That directing power, Who forms the genius in the natal hour: That God of nature, who, within us still, Inclines our action, not constrains our will.'

(Pope).



158. MARTIAL, xiii. 2.

'We know these things to be mere trifles.'



159. VIRG. AEn. ii. 604.

'The cloud, which, intercepting the clear light, Hangs o'er thy eyes, and blunts thy mortal sight, I will remove—'

160. HOR. 1 Sat. iv. 43.

'On him confer the Poet's sacred name, Whose lofty voice declares the heavenly flame.'



161. VIRG. Georg. ii. 527.

'Himself, in rustic pomp, on holydays, To rural powers a just oblation pays; And on the green his careless limbs displays: The hearth is in the midst: the herdsmen, round The cheerful fire, provoke his health in goblets crown'd. He calls on Bacchus, and propounds the prize, The groom his fellow-groom at buts defies, And bends his bow, and levels with his eyes: Or, stript for wrestling, smears his limbs with oil, And watches with a trip his foe to foil. Such was the life the frugal Sabines led; So Remus and his brother king were bred, From whom th' austere Etrurian virtue rose; And this rude life our homely fathers chose; Old Rome from such a race derived her birth, The seat of empire, and the conquer'd earth.'

(Dryden).



162. HOR. Ars Poet. v. 126.

'Keep one consistent plan from end to end.'



163. ENN. apud TULLIUM.

'Say, will you thank me if I bring you rest, And ease the torture of your troubled breast?'



164. VIRG. iv. Georg. 494.

'Then thus the bride: What fury seized on thee, Unhappy man! to lose thyself and me? And now farewell! involved in shades of night, For ever I am ravish'd from thy sight: In vain I reach my feeble hands to join In sweet embraces, ah! no longer thine.'

(Dryden).



165. HOR. Ars Poet. v. 48.

'—If you would unheard-of things express, Invent new words; we can indulge a muse, Until the licence rise to an abuse.'

(Creech).



166. OVID, Met. xv. 871.

'—Which nor dreads the rage Of tempests, fire, or war, or wasting age.'

(Welsted).



167. HOR. 2 Ep. ii. 128. Imitated.

'There lived in Primo Georgii (they record) A worthy member, no small fool, a lord; Who, though the house was up, delighted sate, Heard, noted, answer'd as in full debate; In all but this, a man of sober life, Fond of his friend, and civil to his wife; Not quite a madman, though a pasty fell, And much too wise to walk into a well. Him the damn'd doctor and his friends immured; They bled, they cupp'd, they purged, in short they cured, Whereat the gentleman began to stare— 'My friends!' he cry'd: 'pox take you for your care! That from a patriot of distinguish'd note, Have bled and purged me to a simple vote.' '

(Pope).



168. HOR. 2 Ep. i. 128.

'Forms the soft bosom with the gentlest art.'

(Pope).



169. TER. Andr. Act i. Sc. 1.

'His manner of life was this: to bear with everybody's humours; to comply with the inclinations and pursuits of those he conversed with; to contradict nobody; never to assume a superiority over others. This is the ready way to gain applause without exciting envy.'