•4 .'- •" - ■ ■ '■■■'■ ■ ■ . •■ ' s[J *. * • . ■ ■ •.^: : »■ '.'V^ i?^'i ■•... - :. • ■•. • •. . . '. , ■ ^^ • .■...• V-:Vi'^^^v..v ii^\ »- • •■■/. *; •:-■/• -•: uth.i,^ ■;■■■■■ • :■:■ 1-0'-- . ■^■ PERKINS LIBRARY Uulte University Kare Dooka UNIVERSITY LIBRARY FRIIN'DS OF DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY (:\i V OF ColZo^ctlon 0^ htop-Lan ^A t K . /■ LETTER Vn. The falfe Zealot 6i The CONTENTS. LETTER VIII. On the Love of our Country JL E T T E R I. A Defcription oft^QW Athens in Terra Auftralis incognita 80 BETTER II. Alberoni : or, a Vindka- pon of that Cardinal. A Political Facadox 119 LETTER III. Againfi Delay 116 LETTpR IV. rhe Fop 130 LETTER V. T'hat the Unfortunate have no Friends 135 LETTER VL Ag^nji Avarice 13P LETTER Vn. The r(;,,um^ Poetajier 14^ The Loves of Qon Alonzo Duke of Lerma, and Po««rt Olympia di Bianchi 150 LETTER I. Alonzo to the Charming Olym- pia 154 LETTER II. Olympia ?o AIon?o i5<$ LETTER III. Alonzo to Olympia 1 5 8 LETTER IV. Donna Olympia to Don Alonzo Duke of Lerma 161 |:.ETTER V. A Defence of Mahomet. A Paradox 165 The CONTENTS. *To Celinda pag. iB8 A Ballad to Mrs. Catharine Fleming, l^y the Coun- tefsofW 190 The Fable of Aumillus, and the Statue of Venus, hy Mr. Killegrew iP4 *fhe Garden of Adonis, or Love to no Pwfofe 196 L E T T E R I. To thefalfe Boajler 1^7 LETTER II. ro the fame 198 LETTER III. ToAmintas 200 LETTER W. 7o a Lady upon Pemak- Vir- tue 201 L E T T E E R V. Yo the too cautious Lo- Iter 202 LETTER. VI. rthe Anfvoer 204 LETTER VII. To Lorenzo 205 LETTER VIII. T'he Anfwer 208 LETTER IX. TJ)Clarona 210 Tilye Humour 212 'L E T T E R X. ro Alphontb 2 1 3 LETTER XL ro Aftrea 214 LETTER XII. T'o Aiirelio 215 LET- The CONTEN'TS, jL E T T E R XIII. 7o Clarona 2 J17 LETTER XIV. To Antenor 219 LETTER XV. Waller's Girdle reversed at the Sight of Lady at the AJfembly at St, James'f 222 LETTER XVL to Alraano 223 LETTER XVII. To a Friend with a Poem 225 L E T E R XVIII. To Alcides, feeing him after three Tears Abfence zip LETTER XIX. The Mejfage. To Amin- tas 231 LETTER XX.. To a Lady, -with two Copies of Verfesy viz. the Garter tranfjpos*dj and the Mag- net 231 On lending a Garter for a Girdle. To Amintas 23 z The Magnet 233 Mfcell^^sQus Letters and Paradoxes. LETTER l.Vpon the Ree-Thinkers 234 ]L E T T E R II. The Anfwer to the foregoing Letter 240 LETTER III. On Fame 242 LETTER IV. That our fleeping Hours are as valuable C15 our waking, ^Paradox 248 LET" The CONTENTS. LETTER V . On Women 252 LETTER VI. On Beauty i-jS LETTER VII. On Drinking 282 LETTER VIII. On Blindnefs. n^S jL E T X E R IX. C?« the Vulgar, ^Paradox 290 [ I ] VOYAGE T O T H E Mountains of the Moon Under the EQ^UATOR: O R, PARNASSUS Reform d. BEING THE APOTHEOSIS O F Sir SAMUEL GARTH. Qiiiqiie pa 'vateSy & Phoebo digna locutiy y InventM nut qui vitam excoluere per artes, Quique fui memores alios fecere merendo. Virff. LETTER I , ^ ^;v To Dr. Mead, ^ v^^^^^^^V'^^^^: >> Learned DoEiory O U may, perhaps, be furprfz^d at an Addrefs of this nature, from a Perfon wholly unknown to you ,- but confidering to whom I (hould direft the following Difcourfe, a learned Member of your Faculty being the principal B ' Subjea Siibjeftof it, I thought it was due to one fo emi- nent in all polite Literature, as Dr. Mead is ac- knowledge to be by all that know him. I will not mention that excellent Difcourfe of yours, De Jmperio Soils & Ltinx, tho' it has made Difcoveries that no Phyfician before has had the Happinefs to find out ; for tho' that Trearife has prov'd you a great Mailer in Nature, and an exqui- fite Judge of the true Connexion of Caufes and Effeds j yet it has not an immediate refpect to my prefcnt Undertaking. Befides your extraordinary Skill in Phyfick, your Knowledge m Painting, as is evident from your curious Collcdion, is peculiarly remark- able, and known to the Vertnoji beyond Sea as well as at Home; and this it is that has deter- min'd me in this Addrefs ,• for Painting and Poetry have always been allow'd Sifter Arts ; and whoever has arriv'd at the grand Gouft in the former, can never have an ill Relifli of the latter. I make no manner of Doubt but that the Merits of Sir Samuel Garth, both as to Phyfick and Poetry, are very well known to you : The' his Lofs to the Sick be not fo great while Dr. Msad furvives ; yet to the Kingdom of Poetry it is very confiderable. Here I fliould mention more of the excellent Qiialities of my dead Friend, particularly, his wonderful Humanity and Care of the Unfortunate. I dare believe, that no unhappy Perfon ever apply'd to him, but that he made ufe of the utmofi of his In- tereft to cafe their Pain and Anxiety : But 1 am not here making a general Panegyrick npon him, my only Bulincfs is with his Poetical Excellence, I which i: en ' .which has recommended him to that Recepti6ri in Parnajfus which I am going to defcribe. Imagination, you know, Sir, has one of the foremoft Places in the Kingdom of Poetry , and when it is large, and join'd with Judgment,'" forms an excellent Poet. How defective foever my Judgment may be, the following Difcourfe obliges me to enter the Kingdom of Fancy ; and 1 hope not wholly without the Guidance of Judgment and Art* In the early Times of Poetry, among the Re- tainers of Parnajfmy there was a fort of a flying Steed, call'd Pegafm^ and none could afcend that Poetical Mountain, but thofe that were carry *d upon his Back ; he firft bore Lhim, the Son of Apollo, Orphepti, the Son of Calliope, Mofcfis, Muf^Hi, Hejiod, and Homer, who had Force and Addrefs enough to rein and guide him at their Will. Nor was Pegafm uneafy with his Riders, to bear one Poet in an Age was no great Labour to him -, nay, he fuffer'd quietly their encreafe for many Years ,• nor did he re- pine that he was fo often call'd on in Greece, not only by the Men^ as Pindar and Anacreon, Mim- nermm, Efchyha, Sophocles, Euripides, Agatho, iho- lyides , T'heodeEies, and many others ; but by th« Ladies likewife, as Sappho, Erinna, Corinna, and feveral others of that Sex. But when Poetry be- gan to fpread into Ionia, Sicily, and even to Egypt, in the Reign of Ptolomy Philadelphpii, he found the Journeys too long and tedious, and too frequent for him to perform the whole Bufinefs of Pamajjm himfelf ,• and therefore pre- vail'd with the Mufes to intercede with ApoUo^ B 3 cha;t [4] that he might have fome Coadjutor. His Cafe being fairly laid before the Delphic God ; and he conlidering by his Fore-knowledge of Things, that Poetry would foon fpread beyond the Bounds of Greece into Italy itfelf, where would arife Bards worthy of Parnajfptiy he gave Pc' gafm Power to beget a Race of Pegajiades ; but yet, confining the Number to be employed, to the Nme Mufes, this young Race, without re- gard to the Order of the God, went on beget- ing the like, till Paniajfm fwarm'd with the Breed ; who, not being upon the Eftablifhment, were glad to obey the Call of every Pcetafier^ and fly Hackney for all that would employ them ,• but were like all other Hackney Jades, \^ery flow of fpeed, and perpetually Humbling on the Road ; r.or could they ever bring their Riders to the facred Hill of Pamajfm, but, through devious and roundabout Paths, fet them clown in the Low-lands, at fome Diftance h'om it, while only thofe Pegajiades that belonged to the Mufes and Apoi'/o bore their chofen Burthens up to each Summit. But the Inundation of Barbarifm having over- run all Greece^ j4pollo and the Mufes were fain to remove their Seat, and chofe to fix it to thofe happy Regions, where they were mofl likely to find no Diiiurbancc for the future. The Earth, in the Opinion of the be/l Geo- graphers, rifes five and twenty Miles above the refl: of the terraqueous Glebe under the ^Equa- tor ', upon this Eminence are plac'd the Moun- tains of the Moon j among v.-hich there is one that rifes very high, and with a double Head. This Apollo and tlie Mufes chofe for tliei; facred Retreat, ;ind the Reception of all chcfe illuflrious Bards, who [5] who were truly infpir'd, and dk in the Favour of Jj}o[k; the Diftance rnay feem great to us Mor- tals, but the Influence ot the God is noc check'd by any Defiance. Hermotimm, as Lucinn tells US, us'd frequently to have his Soul leave his Body For feveral Hours j and having taken its Range about the World, returned, and re-enter'd his Body. This may be lookM on as a fabulous Narration ; but the modern T'heophrafiiam, of the School of Paracelfm, feem'd to adviince a Notion that may render it more probable : They hold, that the humane Creature confilh of a fort of aTrinity, that is, of a Body, an EveRrum, and a rational Soul ; to the Body they attribute the Vegetation, by which it grows or encreafes; to the Eveftrum they allot the animal Parr ; and to the Rational, they affign all the Operations of Reafon ,• that is the Seat of Wifdom, Learning, Virtue, and all that is Great and Glorious in Man. Thus, after D^ath, they divide 'em in this manner, to the Earth they commit the Body ; the Eveiirum they make fo fond of its old Habitation, that ic perpetually hovers about the Grave, or wan- ders up and down, and is the Ghoft that fur- nifhes out our Apparitions; the rational Soul leaveth the Body, as a Prifon to which it was long confined, ^ks up to Heaven, its proper Seat, its immortal Origin, without much Teii- dernefs and Regard to its antient Companion, the Body. To apply this Doctrine to Hermo- timnij we muft conlider that it was his rational Soul that took this frequent Fiighc, leaving the EveRrum to perform all the Offices of the animal Life in her Abfence. If this be not enough to convince the Incredulous in this Par- B 3 ticular. [<5] ticular, I mufl tell 'em, that in all the great Works of Contemplation , the rational Soul .quits the Body, to mount up and view the Wonders of the great Creator. Thus it was with St. Paul, when he was wrap'd np into the third Heaven, he was not elevated To high in Body, but in Spirit. Thus, liLewife, it was with all the holy Prophets, or Poets of Ifmel and Judah, they were lifted up in Spirit to fee all thofe wonderful Vifions, which difcover'd and denounc'd the Fate of Kingdoms. Thus, laftly, but in a much more inferior degree, the Bards are tranfported from their prefent State, and made capacious of Truths, and the great Images of Things, which are deny'd to the grovelling Verfifiers of all Times and Nations ; for the airy Journey of the great Poets to Par- najjm, and the Converfation with the Mufes and Apolloy that iSy with the Richnefs of Nature, i$ perform'd by the Mind alone. I thought it neceflary to prcmife the foregoing Confiderations, to render the Account I am go- ing to give of my Voyage tq Parnajfpu the more probable, that it may have the greater Force with fuch into whofe Hands it may fall. Being retir'd out of Town, I went to fee and enjoy the picafing Abode of Clermont, a Seat of the illuftrious Duke of Neivcnfile, cele- brated by the immortal Verfe, Verfc worthy of its great Mailer, of my dead Friend Sir Samuel Garth, whole Poem I there read over, from whence, together with the molt charming Pro- fped in Nature, I fell into the mod pleaiing Contemplation in the World, which rais'd my Soul to Thoughts fo fublime, that I burlt put into a pathctick Iiivocation of Apllo and th? [7] the AL/fes ; a gentle balmy Sleep, at laft, feiVd on my Body; but my Soul quitting that, and its EveJIi'umy mounted one of the chofen Pegafi- adesj fent me by A^oUo^ at the Earneflnefs oi:" my Prayer. We pafs'd with incredible Swiftnefs in- to the Air, and reached the new ParnaJfHi, with a Rapidity almoft equal to Thought; yet, in my lotty Paflage, methought I iaw feveral of my verfifying Acquaintance, labouring on with their Hackney Pegafiades to the fame Place ; at which, however, they never arrived, but were carry 'd afide, either to a fort of Vulcam^ whence iflued perpetual rumbling, caus'd by their Fuflian Verfes ; or elfe farther towards the Southward Pole, where their V/ritings ilmpathiz'd with the Coldnefs of that Clime, and were foon frozen up in an infipid Oblivion. From the Vulcano I heard feveral Verfes, witli which I was not unacquainted : I could hear Statim bellowing out, Qua fuper impojito Moles geminata Colojfo ; and many more of the fame Stamp. There I heard poor Eikeancry with his JVhofe broad built Bulks the boijlerom Billows bear. Thence likewife came all the Fuflian Rants of our modern Stage. Fall Darknefs then^ and everlajling Night Shadow the Globe. Let the Silver Moon be blotted from hey Orb. B4 %r& [8] 'thro all the hmicji Chambers of the Sky, Let there be nvt cue Glimpfey or jiarry Sparky But Gods meet. Gds^ ayid jujlle in the Dayky 'I'hat jfars ?nay rife^ and H^ath divihe be hurTdj Andjhake to Atoms all the folid JVorld. By Heavens y Methinh 'tivere an eafy Leap, to pluck bright , Honour from the pale facd Moon ; Or plunge into the Btttom of the Deep, JVhere fathom Plummet never reached yet. And bring up drozvned Hnour by the Locks. I dirtingiiifii'd a great deal more ; efpecially the Rants of Maximine.,- Almanzo, 'The Emprefs of Morocco; and of feveral more modern Authors, which I have forgot. The Noife was fo loud and fo confusM, that I could not, indeed, cafily commit them to my Memory ; it is calfd a Vulca}20y not like Vefuvim and u^tna, from the Fiames and Fires it vomits up, but from the prodigious Smoke that afceixis from it, in con- tradiction to our old Englijh Proverb, "There is no Sfmke ivithout fome Fire ; for, upon the niceft In- quiry, I was aifur^d that there was no fiich thin? in the vafl Concave of that Mountain, as real Fiie, but a fort of Vapour, or Ignis Fatumy that mifled the hot-brain'd Writers of that FLxe to think there was i and that all the Smoke that came thence, was but their Breath, continually fupply'd by their noify Repeti- tion?. Not flaying, therefore, for this bluflering Entcruaiiiment, we pafs'd on and foon arrived at the Fooc of ihe facrcd Kill, where I quitted my Steed and made my Approach to fhe liril Gate. Bslbre [9] Before you could enter this, you muft pafs a narrow Draw-bridge, which goes over a fort of a Pviver, whofe Waters move fo (lowly, that you can fcarce perceive any Motion they have, and you would IJlher take it for a ftanding Mete than a Stream,-" before I came upon this Draw-bridge flood two Centinels, who were call'd Pedodidafcali^ their Countenances were for- mal and fupercilious ; the one had in his Hand, for Arms, a Fenildy the. other a Rod-^ they pre- fently feiz'd me, and conducted me through the Gate to a Palace which ftocd directly in our Way ; it was built of the Dorick Order, folid yet beautiful, where being arrived, I was led in- to a large Hail, where I found, upon a little Eminence, much like a Desk, Orthogi-aphin ; be- fore whom being brought, I was examined in my Capacity of Spelling, which tho' I took with a great deal of Indignation, I was yet forc'd to fubmit to, and pafs^d my Examination. Ortho- grapbia is comely in her Perfon, of a Matron- like Afped, which, tho' it has a fower crabbed Caft, is yet altogether beautiful: She finding my Unwillingnefs to fubmit to her Orders, as thinking myfelf above that little Tryal, told me, that the Orders of AfoIIo^ fince the Refor- mation of Parnnjfmy were fo fevere, that no one could be permitted to pafs further without it, feveral formerly, both Male and Female, efpe- cia!!y from England, having thrufl themfelves into the facred Abode, when they could fcarce fpell their Names. With that {he found I was not one of them, and therefore gave me a Per- mifTion to pafs further ; but that was but to the other Side of a handfome Qjiadrangle, where I was agam flop'd and had into a large Hall, at the [ 10] the upper End of which fat in his Desk Syntaxis ; and here I was examined in all the Parts of Grammar, both as to Words and Coiiftruc- tion i there having been too many who have pretended to Poetry, who^et made no Con- fcience of Solecifms. Having come oft' here hke- wife with Succefs, I was permitted to go fur- ther. Pafling therefore on, I came to another Draw-bridge, which run over a pnrh'ng Stream, which play'd upon the Pebbles, and in itsPafl'age made an agreeable murmuring Sound, that gave me a peculiar Pleafure whiift I pafs'd it. I was no fooner over, but I enter'd a fpacious Walk, on each Side of which were pleafant Groves and Thickets, while the wanton Zephyrs play'd among the Trees, that feem'd to dance in Meafures, which I think I may better defcribe in fome Verfes of a Friend of mine, upon a like Occafion. Above the feathered free-born Natives throtig^ ^ And in their treble Notes, and artlefs Song, > Salute Sabrina oijhe glides alwg : 3 Sabrina, anfwering in a deeper Tone, Does her Delight in grateful Murmurs own ; The amrmti Zephyrs, -vjjth a youthful Breeze, Play Toanton roundy and kifs the wtlling T'rees ; T%e Threes with Joy the foft Carejfet take, And move in Meafures to the Sound they make : And thus above, beneath, and all around. Nothing but Nature's Harmony is found. On each Side play'd pleafant Fountains, and ftrong Cafcades with their murmuring Fall amus'd me as I went along; but that which feem'd the oddell:, were a fort of Drums, which beat C "] beat all the whole Variety of long and (hort Numbers, without the common Hoarfenefs and loud roaring of that Machine. At the End of this Walk was fituated a noble Palace, of the Jonick Order ; which, when I enter'd with my Guides, I came into a magnificent Salloon, where, in a lofty Ro/irufn, I found Prcfcdia, the Goddefs of Numbers, attended by T'ropology, the Mafter of poetick Didion ; and having pafs'd a fevere Examination before them, my two Guides, the Pedodidafcali^ were difmifs'd, and I committed to a new Conduftor, whofe Name was Invention; led by him, I left the Palace of Profodia, in order to go on to that of the Mufes. On the Way, Invention demand- ed of me, to which of the Nine immortal Siffers I us'd to pay my Devotion. I reply'd, Melpomene ,• to her Palace therefore, faid he, I will condu(ft you -, and you fhall be fure of my Favour in your Recommendation to her ; but 5'^ou will be oblig'd, before you arrive at her Palace, to vilit thofe of Phamajla, and that of Crijis and Sunejis ; but which of them you will rirff vifit fhall be in your own Choice. By all means, faid I, let me pay my firft Duty to Crifis and Sunejis ,• for there I may obtain per- feft Judgment, and a juft Tafte, by which I may be able to govern and regulate the various and wonderful Objeds I muft certainly meet with in the Palace of Phantajia. Invention ap- prov'd my Choice, and, as we journey'd on, gave me feveral valuable Inllrudions for my Condud in Poetry. We came now to another River, over which we pafs'd on a lofty Bridge of white Marble ,• and I obierv'd that the Stream m the right hand above the Bridge y/as very deep [ li ] deep and flow in its Motion, as if it weigh'd and confider'd every Objed on its Banks, as it pafs'd aJong ; but the Waters had no fooner pafs'd the Bridge, than they grew very fhallow, by gliding thro* a broader Channel, which tur- ning and winding in a hundred Meanders, and with frequent Falls, and fometimes great Cata- rafts, hallen'd forward to the Pa.\a.cc o{ Phamajtu. At the Foot of the Bridge there were three Paths, one went directly forward to the Palace of Melpo?nene 'y that on the left Hand to that of Phantafia-y and the right Hand Path to the Abode of Crijis and Sunefts^ whither we con- duced our weary Steps : And being arriv'd at the Portal, we were receiv'd by Camion and Diffiiience, who were the Introdnftors of all fiich as were admitted into the Prefence of the Lord of this Place. They were not prefently fatis- fy*d of my Qualifications for fuch AdmiiTion, but foon after brought me to my Audience. I obferv'd that all Things here were perfe6:ly re- gular, every Thing uniform, and difpos'd with the utmofl Judgment and Decorum. Here we ftay'd fome time, till I was thoroughly inftrudied in the Dodrines of this great Being, without which there can nothing be Great, Noble, or LaiUng attempted in Poetry. We pafl hence in a direa Line to the Palace of Phantafia, and fo made the Way infinitely ihorter to it, than thofe go who callM not upon Crijis for Diredion ; for they wander through winding Paths and Labyrinths, before they can come to their Journey's End. I found the Pa- lace of Phamafmy not built of Marble, Por- phyry, or any more rich aixl vakiable Stones ; they were all too folid for fo airy a Structure ; it was [13] was erefted by Nature, of the Plants and Trees, and Flowers that were the moft beautiful and odoriferous in the World ; here was no Regula- rity or Order confulted, but a fort of agreeable Wildnefs fpread through the Whole, which prov'd fo bewitching to feveral who had been there, that they could never afterwards forfake it. Here were broken Rocks, and terrible Preci- pices, roaring Seas, Chimera's, Hydra's, and various and infinite other Monfters, composed of different Forms and Natures; there were flow'ry Plains, green Fields, myrtle Groves, cool Grotto's, purling Streams, Fountains, aad all the pleafing Sweets of the moft delicious Country. Here were the green Wood-rlands, whofe Lawns were trod by the Dryadesy Hama- dryadesy Fauns^ Satyrs, and other Silvan Gods, fo fimous among the Antients ; while in the ad- jacent Fields the Fairies danc'd their Rounds; Elves, Hobgoblins, and the fhivering Ghofts, made up the difmal Company. Another Way no- thing but frightful Objefts meet your Eyes, Murders, Slaughters, Conflagrations, Ship- wrecks, and all the terrible Cataftrophes to which Mankind is fubjeft ,• in fhort, the Images of all Things that ever were in Nature, or ever produced by the fruitful Imagination of Man, are in this Palace , the Images, I fay, for I would not be mifunderflood, as if I meant the Things themfelves were there, but their Images wonderfully expreft in their proper Shapes and Colours, but with fuch Confufion and Diforder, that unlefs the Spedator be direfted by Judg- ment, he will have fmall Benefit from the View of the Sight; and yet there never was, nor never will be a true poetical Genius, without being I Ml being admitted i.ito this Palace, and received in- to the particular Favour of this Goddcfs. Having thoroughly confider'd all thcfc Ob- Jefts that we had feen, and furnifh'd ourfelves with what we thought proper for our Ufe, we departed and went diredly towards the Palace of M^^'pojnene. I will not prove fo tedious as to be very exaft in my Defcription of this illuflrious Pile ; I lliall only take notice that it was of the CoYtnthioii Order (as were indeed the Palaces of ail the refl of the Mufes) and built of the fineft Porphyry, with all Things that were necclTary to form a perfcd Magnihcence and Maj.rty ; a loyal Road led up to it, flatted on each Side \s^ith lofty Cedars, which brought us to a rich Gate of Malfy Gold, and that opening wide let us into tiie rirfl: Court, whence by noble Steps we mounted to a fecond, and in the fame manner to a third, in which the Palace flood ; entring which, my Paflport was demanded, and I led into the Apartment of the Pajpons^ in or- der to ftay there till I was fcnt for \ but having my Companion Invention with me, I was not difpleas'd with this Delay of my Audience, fince I was fatisfy'd I might render myfelf more agreeable to Melpomene^ by thofe inilirudive Ledures I might receive from a Converfation with the Pafpons. Accordingly I heard them all, and treafur'd up all they faid in my Memory; but thofe that I heard with mofl Attention, and mod frequently, were T'en-or and Pityy the moft predominant and fovereign in Tragedy. Here I learnt their fecret Springs and Motion, as well as the Reafon why thefe two are made the prin- cipal End of that Part of the Drama-, and found it to be, beeaufe they are the i'hoft ge-' [15] ncral of all the PaiTioas, and fpread, in a gtca* ter or lefs Degree, thro' all Mankind. Here I found the grave Ethick, Sovereign Di- redorefs of the Paffions, profoundly skilled in the Virtues, Vices, and Habits of humane Mind, the feveral Divifions and Compofitions in Man ; all which I learned from her, as well as the Dif- tindion of all the Qpalities of the Perfons in the feveral Stations of the World, as what was agreeable to the Charader of Princes, Generals, Judges, and other Magiflrates, as well as the Manners proper to every diftind Nation. Having ftay'd my allotted time in the Apart- ment of the Paffions, I was brought up into a magnificent State Room, which was painted all round with the Architypes of all the valu- able Tragedies that were ever written in Greece^ or any other Nation. Here was the unhapp/ Iheban King, who flew his own Father and marry 'd his Mother i next it wa.s Antigone, the wretched Daughter of the wretched OEdipmy whofe obftinate Piety to her dead Brother Poly- nices brought on her own Death, and by that the Ruin of Creon, who had condemned her to be bury'd alive : Here were likewife EleBra, the Ajax, and many more of the immortal Sophocles ; there was the pious Alceftis dying for her beloved Husband ; the furious Medea cutting her own Children to pieces, to be reveng'd on her falfe Husband who had forfaken her; with all the reft of thofe Plays that were written by Euri- pides ; it would be endlefs to repeat them, and the reft that Antiquity {aw in Athens, and other Parts of Greece. Some there were likewife of Corneille and Racine, and tlie Orphan of Otirayy with fome few other EngHJJi Tragedies. Fixing my [I6] my Eyes upon the modern Pieces to look foi* Tamerlane y the Step- Mot her, Ulyjfes, and the reft of that Author's Performances ,* becaufe a great Man has, in print, declared, that he was the greateft Tragick Genius that he knew ; I was furpriz'd to find not the leafr Sketch of all this Author has written ; but my Guide inform^'d me, that, upon a late Reformation in Pnrnajfm, all his Works were entirely rejefted, as having not fo much as one Qiiality of a Tragick Ge- nius. When I had taken a View of all thofc Pain- tings, I heard, by the Sound of Trumpets, and other Mufical Inftrumenrs, that Melpomene was going to enter. She came m with wonder- ful MajelTy ,• but I fhall leave the Dcfcription of her to the following Verfes, taken out of the forequoted Poem. Behold advance, in a majeflkk Pace, ^ A Form Druine, that xmth a charming Grace > Difckfes terrible Beauties in her Face ; ) Her Locks adown her awful Temples fall, JVhile her left Hand fupports the regal Ball; Her right the royal Scepter "waves around. And her long Robe trails far upon the Ground; Her Feet the /lately Lydian Buskins prefs : ^ I'hefe Looks, thefe Enjigns, and Imperial Drefs > "The Tragick Mufe to my plead' d Eyes confefs. 3 Attended by Crijis and Sunejis, Sophocles and Eu- ripuies, Milton and Otivay ; the two laft were added to her Train on the Account of my be- ing an Englijhman ; Ihe went diredly to the Im- perial Throne, ercded at the upper End of the Room; where l^^ving taken her Seat, with Cnfis on [17] on the one Hand, and Simefis on the other, and the Poes at her Feet, I was call'd to my Au- dience, Modefty forbids me to mention thofe favour ble ExprefTions {he utter'd to me ,• all I dare tell, is, that I found inexpreiTible Raptures at the Indulgence fhe fliow'd me, and the wonderful Truths which fte pronounc'd. She told me all the Duties of a Tragick Poet,- and bid me never be mifled by that Boyifh Vanity of mere Words, the Grammarians Glory of Expref- fan, fo far as to think the Excellence of Tragedy confifts in chat : No, that is but a mere Drefs, an Ornament only, that indeed fets oft" the greater Beauties to a vulgar Ear j but as it is no Part of Poetry, it can ne\ er fland in competition with its EJJentials. Think hrft of your Fahk^ weigh it well, confidcr it thoro..ghly, fee that all its Parts have a juft Dependai ce upon each other; take care to chufe fuch Incidents to comoofc your Fahle^ as neceflarily produce Fear and Piry ; aim at Perfection, and be not contented with Indifference, or what is barely permitted; let therefore your Incidents produce one another, and ail of them contribute to make the Dif.'o- very and Change" of Fortune, in which the chief Beauty of Tragedy confifts ,• for tho' the greateft of my Sons have perform'd very well in th^fimple kind, yet the Implex has always given them their greateft Fame ; 'cis true, it is the more difficult Task , but what is there great m Nature that is obtain'd without Labour ? But tho' the Fable be the principal Part, and that which chiefly proves the Writer to be a Poet ; yet fince the Fable itfelf, wnich is the Imitation of an Aftion, cannot be reprefented without Adors, the next eilential Care of the C Poet, [ i8] Poet, is to confidcr the Manners, for there is no Aftor, that is, Man, without the Maimers ; for thofe diflinguifli Man from Man, and are form'd by certain Compofitions of the Paf- fions, Virtues, Vices and Habits of the Mind : Xhefe muft be perfedly well mark'd, that is, plain and vifible in every particular Char^fter, and ncccfVarily producing all the Aftions of fuch Charaderj they muft likewife be equal, that is, they muft be the fame from the Begin- ning to the End. "Tis true, there are Characters in Nature which are unequal in their Manners ; but, firft, they are not general enough to be made choice of j and next, the Shortnefs of the Tragick Aftion is feldom capable of fhow- ing that Equality, which muft be feen even in that Ui7eq::al}-2efs, to render it fit to be admitted into the Drama at all. You find I have not taken notice of the Likenefs, becaufe that extends to none but Hiftorical and known Charaders ; and Time has not prcduc'd four good Tragedies founded upon Hiftory. However, fince there is nothing impofTible to a great Genius, and you may, perhaps, meet with fome Charader in Hiftory, which you may think fit to intro- duce into your Tragedy, remember that you give fuch Charade r no Qiiality, which the Hif- toriiin has not allow'd him ; at leaft, no Q_ua- lity that is contradidory to thofe which he has in Hiftory ; but here lies the Difticulty in chu- fing Hiltorical Charaders, that they are all par- thuiar; whereas it is a necelTary Condition, that fuch as are admitted into Tragedy be gene- ral, fince from a Particular no general Inftruc- tion can be drawn. One C 19 ] One Caution I'll give you, let your Drama- tick Charafters be To artfully chofen, that they be not endowed with the fame Qualities and In- clinations; the farther they are from one another^ the more difnnd they will be, and the more vi/ible that Diftin^ion will appear to the Au- dience. I need not infifl: on the Semi?nems, fince they are the Exred: of the Majraers, and make them known to the Hearer ; you muft not therefore wander after ungovern'd Fancy , but mufl thoroughly weigh and confider what fuch Qiia- lities, Paffions, Virtues, VicQs and Habits, and their Compoiition and Mixture in that Place, would make any one think on fuch an Occafion ; and that only you muft exprefs in your Diclioyiy the Beauties of which are vety different ; for every Paffion has its peculiar Language, which ex- cludes that Uniformity of Stile, which has been too much purfu'd in your Country as an Excel- lence and Perfedion ; nay, they have been To very wild in their Notions, as to think that the only and fovereign Perfedion of "tragedy itfelf But you, my Son, mind not the Cenfure and Opinion of the Vulgar, labour not for their Praife and Applaufe, nor be exalted with their Smiles, or dejeiled with their Frowns ,• but fol- low the Precepts of Art and Nature, and ftudy the Language of every particular Paffion, which will be lure to meet with the Approbation of the Judicious, which only you ought to aim at. I have heard your Invocations with fome Sa-" tisfadion, and, as a Mark of my Favour, I allot you thefe two immortal Poets as your Guides and Directors, to fhow you the Secrets, C % ^nd [zo] and open to you the immortal Pleafures of this facred Retreat, which the God of Harmony has provided for thofe he favours : Upon which fhe direfted Milton and Otway to attend me during my Stay, and ^ivt me what further Inflrudions might be yet necefl'ary for me to receive. As foon as fhe had done fpeaking, an immor- tal Symphony enfued, and vocal and inflrumen- tal Mufick join'd to make the Harmony the moft tranfporting that ever I heard. Mihon, Otway, and myfelf, with fome Regret, left the Prefence of Melpomene^ to purfue my Journey to the reft of Parnajfm, and to enjoy the Converfation of thofe two great Poets, who led me to the Pa- laces of all the reft of the Mufcs, which fur- rounded all the lower Parts of that immortal Hill, a Defcription of which would be too te- dious for this Place; I fhall therefore referve that to another Opportunity. But I found when we came out from them, that we had, by infenfible Degrees , mounted above the general Level of tiie reft of the World, and had a moft engaging Profped over it, which cannot be exprefs'd by Words i on every Side we faw Groves and purling Streams, that tumbled down tlie Hill with a moft muficai Cadence. ,^efore w^e gain'd the Summit of the Mountain^&'e entered a moft delicious Grotto, where wc were no fooner fet down to refrefh ourfelves, but we faw a Troop of Animals, which very much rcfembled Monkeys, clearing the Way, pafs on with their Governor at their Head j but they could not go by us without fhewing fome of their antick Tricks, endeavou- ring to imitate us, tho' aukwardly, in their Ac- tions. When they were gone, I difcover, faid Milton, Cii] Mihon, in your Eyes a Curiofity to know what thofe Creatures are that are juft gone by us : They are, continued he, the Imitators, who fet up for Poets, by imitating the Stile of this or that celebrated Author ; and he that leads them was Famianm Strada, the Jefuit, that was fo well acquainted with antient Poets, that he gave the World an Imitation of every one of them of any Note. Their Bufinefs here is generally to cleanfe the River that runs under the Palace of Profodiay and which you pafs'd over to come to this Place, to keep it clear of Mud, or any ObHruftions that may hinder the dancing Murmurs of that Water ; but they have now been employ 'd to fweep and cleanfe all the Paths that lead up the Mountain of Pamajfm to the very Temple of Fame or Glory, where, in a few Hours, will be receiv'd the immortal Garth, to whofe Inauguration there, all the Mules, and every blefled Being of this Place, will fuddenly afcend. I am much furpriz'd, faid I, to find Strada in no better a Poll here, who with us has been exalted to the very top of Criticifm. Whatever he has been with you, cry'd Milton^ you find, that in the Opinion of ApoUo and the Mufes his Merit is not fo con- fiderable. He had no fooner done fpeaking but I faw another Troop pafs upwards, loaded with Garments, with heavy Afpeds and plodding Steps, many of whofe Faces I thought I well remembered to have feen among the topping Wits of our Time and Nation : Thefe, faid Otvoay, were your little Criticks on Words, nice in ExprefTions, and perpetual Declaimers on the fii-e Language and fine Things they found in the feveral Poets, but never could arrive at the C 3 Taae Talle of their greater Excellencies ; they are here the Taylors, wlio are only taken up with making the Garments of the Poets ,• nor can they arrive at making a whole Garment, but com- pofe only every one a feveral Fart of it, which are put together by a Wronger Genius. Thefe are Difcijveries, jfl'.id I, which would fcarce find Ci'cdit, fhould I report them in Britau:. Never fear, faid Milton^ the Cenfare of the halt-wittcd and ignoraat Pretenders of the Age, you are chofcn to greater Things than to build on the frail Reputation cf the Anplaufe of Fools,- to pleafe one iSlan of Judgmciic, is of more Confe- quence than to gain the thundring Claps of a thoufand injudicious Auditi. ces. Tho* you have had admirable Infl:ru(5lions from the Divine Melpomene^ yet I fliall prefume, by her Permiffion, to throw in fome Advice, which, tho' of lefs Importance than what fhe has Gid, may yet be of Ufe towards your gain- ing that Perfcdtion which ought to be the Aim of every wife Poet. Firft then, as to Mor.o- logues or Soliloquies, you ought to ufe them with the utmoft Caution ; that is, they muft be ex- tremely fhort, and fpoken m Pallion, as has been obfervM by that Noble Critick that writ the EJfay upon Poetry, which is already laid up in the Archives of Parnajfm. The Moderns are much deceived when they take many Things in the ancient Greek fcets for thefe Mmolcgues ; the' they are indeed fpoken to the Chona, who are always prefent on the Stage. Another Inftruc- tion I {hall mention, is in regard of Dcfcriptions. The Moderns have little conlidcred their Ne- ceflky ; that is, they have not taken care to makQ. 'cm of fome Ufe to the Delign j but right 0? C 15 ] or wrong, with a boyifii Wantonnef-?, give us fuch as are merely idle, and not at all necefiary. The Lucus & Ara Dianx complained of, and coii- demn'd by Horace, tickle their Imagination l\ fuch a manner, that makes them quite negligent of the Admonitions of Judgment. There have been Poets in England, Poets did, I fay ? I mean Play-wrights, for they deferve not the Name of Tragick Poets, who have fix'd their Reputation and Succefs on this alone j when Fancy and Chance have furnifh'd them with an Occalion to defcribe a Fountain, a rapid Stream, a ftormy Sea, they have laid out all their Genius upon it, and fpread it about among their Friends to bribe their Underftanding, and fecure their Appiaufe to the refl of the Performance, tho' in it there be nQithtt Fable, Manners, Sentiments, ox even fome- times Connexion. How different was the Method of the Ancients in this Particular ? For as their Defcriptions were infinitely more ftrong, lively and eloquent, fo were they never introduc'd, but to fuppiy thofe Things which were efl'ential to the Plot, and more beautiful than the Reprefen- tation of them on the Stage would be ; for there are often Incidents in Tragedy, which, tho" ne- cefiary to the Defign, yet the Eye would judge to be (hocking to Credibility, Thus that admirable Defcription of the invenom'd Robe in the Medea of Euripides is wonderfully moving; tho' it could never have been reprefented on the Stage. There is nothing more hard to reprefent than Death, and thofe cruel Objeds with which our Stage too much abounds, and which have given Occafion to Foreign Criticks to re- proach us with Barbarity, that we, as IJlande-rSy take Delight in Spe;5tacles cf Blood and Siaugh- C 4 ter ; [ H ] ter; whereas thofe were Innovations brought in by an ignorant Age, and contiiuied fince by Want of Judgment and Refoli'tion in the fuc- ceeding V/riters. There is another thing which robs the Eiighjb as well as the Fr^-wc/? Si age of many Beaudes more agreeable to its Majefty and Delign, ai'd that is Lov^ ; I mean tiie tedious whining Scenes, where the Lover makes his Ad- drefi'es to his Miflrefs. There never was, and I believe never can be any Scene of that Nature thit can pleafe a true Judge : Firll, they want Aftion, the very Soul of the Diama ; next they want Majefty, which is ellential to Tragedy ; again they are not entertaining, for they touch no Paffion ; they are indeed fometimes fome- thing enliven'd by a foohfh Jealoufy about Tri- fles, but even then they fcem to me as fo many detacl/d Scenes whjch fiifpend tJie Action, and would therefore be much better left oui. Tiiere is yet another Inconvenience of a confiderable Confequence, and that is^ that they generally fhock that Modefty, which is the Charaftenftick of the fair Sex; for it brings a Neceffity upon the Woman of confeffing and avowing fuch a Violence of Paffion for her Lover, even be- fore Marriage, as does not feem fitting for a Wk^in to do. 1 would not have you miftake me, I am not for excluding Love entirely from the Stage i the Ancients themfclvcs did not do that, witnefs the Helena and Akefiis of Euripides; but then that Love was always betwixt Man and Wife, that Coiidition allowing the Woman the utmoft Exccfs of I hat Paffion, which heightens the Cha- rader of he; Modefty and Virtue. Who can read cr fee the tender Love of Akefiis, making her cbufe [i5] chufe to die with all the Bloom of Youth about her, only to fave her Husband's Life, without Compaf- (ion ? I will not infift upon the Ancients for farther Proof of this Particular, I refer you to the Venice Prefervd ot that worthy Author, who fits by us ; (how me one of thofe Scenes of making Love, either in French o^Englifi, that moves like all that paflls between yafper and Behidera^ Man and Wife. And ail the Pathetick of Monimms Charader is ^fter the Difcovery of her Marriage to Cafia-' lio. If therefore the Fear of making a Breach in that Modefly, which ought to be efleem*d ef* fential in a Woman's Charadcr, makes me de- clare againft the Scenes of Love which I have mentioned, much more muft I do fo againft thofe Characters of that Sex, which are exprefly un- chafte. A IVhore is far unfit for the Tragick Scene, and therefore Cleopatra was very injudici- oufly chofen by a great Poet of our Nation, and which he made flill more fliocking, by introdu- cing OEiavia (as he himfelf confefTes) a Wife perfeftJy virtuous, and fuffering by the unlawful Love betwixt her Husband Anthony and Cleopatra. I would not mention the Fair Penitent, Jane Shore, and fome others, which are exprefly excluded the Tragick Scene by Apollo and the Mufes, did not you yet live where they are received with an unjuft Applaufe. I know it has been objcded. That the Ancients were not innocent m this Particular, and that they give Phadra as an Inftance of it. But alas ! this is either out of Ignorance of the Ancients, or by mifl^king Seneca for one of them ; the Phadra, indeed, of that Poet, is fcandaloufly im- pudent ; but no good Judge ever had much ef- teem for Seneca s Tragedies, which are a fhame- ful [Id] fill Perverfion of the beautiful Fables ofthe Greekf, tho' taken from them ; look into the Ph^dra of Euripides, and you find indeed an unfortunate Lady, but in nothing fcandalous ; (he labours under a guilty Paflion inflifted on her by the Anger of a Deity ,• but how doss fiie (irnggle with it ? With what Pain and Anxiety ? With what Refolution, I might fay, does flie combat with it ? And tho' unable to efcape a Punifbment laid on her by the Gods, yet does fhe never yield fo far to it, as to be guilty of the lealt Immodefty ; fo far is {he from being a voluntary Proflitute, like Evadne in the Maid's T'ragedyy and the reft that I have named. As this Caution is neceflary for the Female Charafters, fo there is another as neceflary for the Male. There are two Extremes which you muft carefully avoid i the iirft, never to introduce a perfeft Virtue. Afaultkfs Monjler, vohom the U^'or Id ne'er faiv. He muft be guilty of Faults, but thofe the Ef- fed of the Violence of fome Paffion, under which he labours for want of refifting, till he be- comes criminal : But then on the other fide, he muft not be guilty of any Faults that are in their Nature fcandalous, no habitual Wickednefs, like the lagos of our Stage, moft profligate Villains, and fit only for the Punifliment of the Hangman, not the Poet. The former Charader of Sove- reign Virtue has nothing in it Tragical ,• for it neither moves Fear nor Compaffion j all that fee fuffering Virtue, feel Indignation, not Pity; it makes them quarrel with Providence, but pro- duces not one Eftcd worthy of Tragedy. I On L^7'\ On the other fide, the fecond Charadler is ful- ly as little Tragical : We rejoice to fee a wick- ed Man fuffer, nor doth it touch any one with Fear; for what moves Fear, proceeds from the Sufferings of fuch that are like ourfelves, but not of fuch as are guilty of thofe fcandalous Crimes, fuch deliberate VVickednefs, fuch confirm'd Vil- lanies, into which wc allure ourfelves we can ne- ver fall, and by Confequence that we have no manner of Reafon to apprehend that we are lia- ble to any fuch Punifhment as he meets with. A Tragedy composed by the Precepts you have re- ceiv'd from the Divine Melpomene, and me, will be truly worthy of Immortality; they were I'ragediesMkQ. that which the great Stagyrite pro- nounc'd to be more moral than Philofophy ; and they were fuch Tragedies which were of old call'd the Pcems ofKmgs j whereas thofe that have been too long in Vogue, are lefs moral than Pe- tronius Arbiter, and are only fit to be call'd the Poems of Footmen. There is one Thing that moft modern Poets have mifcarried in, and that is in the opening of their Plays, which they either clog with tedious Narrations, or elfe by broken Scenes, fo little to the Purpofe of the Aftion, that they might be left out without any Detriment to the Plot. I would recommend to you the Confideration of the opening of Venice Prefervd, where the State and Condition of the future Aftion and Dramatick Perfons is not left to a lame Account of indifterent Perfons, merely and plainly to bring the Audience acquainted with it, but is moft artfully difcover'd in a paiFionate Scene betwixt Priuli and yafjjer, for all the Misfortunes of the latter, and his VV^ife Bdvideray proceed from that barbarous [z8] barbarous Cruelty of the old Priuli in that very Scene. There is one thing more I fhall add, and that is, as to the Place of your Scene. Never chufe a Siege, all things are there full of Noife and Hurry, Drums, Trumpets and Cries of the DiflrefsM ; whereas the Scene of 'Tragedy fhould have no Noife, but what proceeds from the E- motion of the Paffions j belides, the putting \ our Scene in a Siege, is a great Hindrance to that Unity of Place, which is certainly abfoluCely necefl'ary i\\ this Poem. Here Milton made an End, and having returned him my Thanks for his friendly Inftrudions, I promised to ufe my Endea- vours to put them perfeftly in Pradice. Faffing from this Difcourfe, I was very parti- cularly curious to enquire into all the Tranfac- tions of Parnajfusj and having heard Mention of a late Reformation in that Place, I exprefs'd a Defire to be informed about it. That, faid Otwayy Ihall be my Task, and only for your Satisfadion; for whatever you may think fit to publifh, rela- ting to our Abode, I am afraid you will ima^- gine the Account of this Tranfadion too fhock- ing to the general Opinion of your World, to let it go farther. You muft know therefore, that it was but very lately we had a very fevere Vi- fitation from Apollo^ for want of which many Corruptions had taken place : Pamajftis lay o- pen, and not guarded, as now, by thofe feveral Pafles and Avenues, through which you were admitted at your coming hither ; and every little Hackney Pegajiades fet down his ufeJefs Burthen upon our Hill, fo that there was not a trifling Scribbler that had met with any Succefs in Italy^ France, Spain, England, or any where elfe, but • claim'd [i9] cl'aim'd his Share in Pamaffm ; whence, inftead of that Peace and Unity which Truth and Know- ledge bring forth, there were nothing but per- petual Jars and Difcord caufed by the daily and impudent Ufurpations of Error and Ignorance, till the true Poets were afraid that they fliould be driven from this lafl Retreat of Ment by wo rthlefs Pretenders; and therefore they apply 'd to ApoUo for a Vilitation, and beg'd him to vin- dicate their Rights and his own Honour : Ac- cordingly it was pi'bliflied throughout all Par' najfmt that every one fliould appear before him, and produce their Claim to their Habitation in this Place. A Day was appointed for the Poets, and Pretenders to Poetry, of every Nation, where they had full Hearing and Examination of their Works, and were accordingly either con- firmed in their Pofleffion of this Place, or driven out with Infamy. I will not here detain you ■with the Fate of Particulars of other Nations, nor fay much of that of our own, fince when you come up to the Temple of Fame, you will find in that Aflfembly in what Order ApoUo and and the Mufes have ranged us : But this I muft tell you, that many of thofe who had got in by their own Aflurance, or the injudicious Applaufe of iome leading Wits, were pronounced to bene Poets at all, and banifliM for ever from the Confines of Pamajfm. You may fee feveral haughty Pretenders marching away with dole* ful Faces, and bearing off the heavy Volumes of their Works, the Bulk of which was no Ad- vantage to any one here : Beaumont and Fletcher being only fav'd by two of their Comedies, nor by thofe could be rais'd above the loweft Rank of them that were permitted to ftay ; and ii it had [JO] had not been for Shakefpear's Temfeji, he wouU fcarce have been allowed a Place among the Dramatick Poets. "Tis true, his admirable Draughts of the Manners would have fecur'd him a Refidence in this Place, yet only as a Dialo- gift ,• others were receivM only for one Poem, as DenhiTrn for his Cooper\s-HilL I muft obferve one thing for the Honour of our Country, that Ben. Johnfon bore the Prize of Comedy from the Ancients and Moderns of all Nations j Shad-a:ell and fV/cheylyy Menander and T^erence, Aloliere and fomc few others, were likewife receiv'd with the higheft Approbation, though all allotted but a fecond Place to the immortal Ben. I fhall fay nothing of our EngliJJj Tragick Poets, left I lliould feem too much exalted by the good Fortune I have had in picaling our Sovereign Apollo y I (hall however tell you, tho' before his Face, for Truth here may be told without the Sufpicion of Flattery, Milton has carry 'd the Honour of the Englijh Name to its greatefl height, fetting in all publick Aflemblies on a Seat with Homer and Virgil. Martial^ finding Catullus referv'd, ftrove hard, and made many Puns, and many line Points, as they call them, in hopes to prevail with Apollo and the Mujes^ to fulier him to re- main as his Compani n ; but nothing could fave him, he was obliged to go out of Pamajjus with Petrarchy moft of the Provcncial Poets, and many of the Italiansy to inhabit a plealing Valley at fome Diftance from this Mountain, where all the Plants and Trees are eitlicr Shrubs, or of a dwarhfli Growth, and whicli is call'd the Vah ley of Ep/gnvn, where tho' they want all the fub- lime Joy that we poflefs, they arc not without fuch as are agreeable to their Capacity and Tafle. [31 ] Tafte. Parnaffus being thus cleaiis'd and purg'd of all its Drofs, Care was taken to prevent the like Inconveniencies for the future ; and there- fore Apollo caus'd the Foot of the Hill to be fur- rounded by thofe Rivers which you pafsM, and no body to be permitted to enter without thofe Examinations you went through at your En- trance ,• not that every one is brought to the Pa- lace 0^ Melpomene y as you were, only the Tragick Writers come there; the Heroick, to that of Clio : the Comick, to T'halia ; the Lyrick, to Calliope ; and fo on : And when they have there ob- tained the Approbation of the feveral Mufes who prefide over their Manner of Writing, they are permitted to come with Freedom all over this happy Abode. You may wonder perhaps to find the Palaces of the Mufes at the Bottom, and not on the Top of the Hill ,• but you muft know that thofe Palaces are not the Dwelling-places of the Mufes, thofe are upon the height of Parnaf- fus, and furrounding the Temple of Fame, as you will find when you afcend thither, as we immediately mufl ; for I hear the Trumpets that fummon us to attend the Reception of the im- mortal Garthj who is this Day there made free of Parnaffus, and publickly declared to be a lawful Inhabitant of it. All I fiiall therefore add, is. That thofe Palaces at the Foot of the Hill are the Courts of Judicature of the Mufes, where they examine, approve or rejeft all fuch as are Candidates for their Favour. Here Otway made an End, and we all three rofe up and went on till we gain'd the Summit of the Hill J that is, to a fpacious Plain that join'd the two Heads of Pamajfm together. I ihail not here detain you with a Defcription of the [?o the feveral Dwellings of the Mufex , nor of the wonderful Strudure of the Temple of Fame, or Glory, much different from what has been given us by thofe who have pre- tended to defcribe it, whofe Defcriptions agree only with the Abode of Rumour : I fliall only f:!y, that as the Builders were Divine, fo the Materials are Heavenly : It is in the Form of a vafl Amphitheatre^ in the middle of whofe Cir- cumference is a Space fill'd up with ineftable Light, and may be call'd the SanElum SanEiortim of the Temple, whence all the Oracles of Apollo. are delivered, and all his Commands received : At this time the Immortal and Pious Bards were difpos'd of each fide of it ; here were Horner^ Virgil^ Spencer, Milton, and many more of all civilized Nations ; there were T'ajfo, Artofto, Dry- deny at leail; his Place was there, tho' he was de- puted to attend on Garth ; in his Entrance there were like wife Denham, Cowley, and many more, too long here to mention. It is impofTible to exprefs the wonderful Har- mony of both Vocal and Inftrumental Mufick; among the latter were not only all the Inftru- ments in Ufe amongft the Ancients and Moderns, but many more unknown to Mankind ; fome of which may perhaps be hereafter invented : Here, in the midfl of all thefe Triumphant Songs, Garth was introduced, conduced by Dry den and the famous Dr. Hawcy, one, as he was a Poet ; the other, as a Phjflcian. Before him was carried xhcDifpenfary by Crifts and Phantafm ; but I was furpriz'd to find, that the Book that was carry 'd before him was in Qtiavto ; which made me fup- pofe it was the firfl Edition. He was followed by Profodia and Tnpology, and various others, too numerous I 33 1 numerous for me to particularize. He was thus Jed up to tlie Oracle of Apollo, and there crown'd with a Wreath of Bays, and another of Laurel, and having received the Benedidion of that God, he was conduced to his Place next to Dmham \ and had confer'd upon him an OiEce agreeable to his Temper j which was to be Advocate of all his Countrymen, who fhould fet up for Candidates of Poetical Fame. I have not here time to give the Reafons why Phyficians were admitted into Pamajjm; for there 1 faw not only Harvey, but Hippocrates, Galen, Celfus, Sydenham, IVtlliSj Raddiff, and fome more ; I faw hkewife the Works of fome of my Contemporaries, who were hereafter to be admitted into this Paradife, which yet I am forbid to mention. One thing I was furpriz'd at, which was, that I could not find Lucretius j but I underflood the Reafon of it was, that he was an Atheift, and therefore excluded. I have been fo long that I dare not enlarge my Dif- courfe, to give an Account of the various and tranfporting Pleafures of this Place, and which Words are, indeed, too poor and barren to ex- prefs. What I have to fay upon that, and upon thofe Difcoveries I made in the Temple of Fame, particularly relating to the few Patrons of Poetry, and the politer Arts, with the Ho- nour and Glory they enjoy, I defer to another Opportunity ; when I fhail likewife %viq. an Ac- count of the reft of the Mufes, and the admi- rable Precepts they gave to bring to Perfeftion in each their chofen Adorers. The Favours and Inftructions I had receiv'd, gave me the Privilege of being carryM back by Pegafus him- D' {^% [34] felf, who bore me from Mount Paryiaffus to Clarefffom almoft as fwift as Thought ; where, re-entring my Body, I got up and blefs'd the Place, the happy Manfion that had aftbrded mc fo glorious and ufeful a Vifion ; and from thence made what hafte I could to commit it to wri- ting, in the manner I fend it to you. I (hall on- ly here add, that I am. Sir, Tour mojl humble. and moji obedient Servant, Carlo Amontesocio. [35] LETTER II. On Flayers, ^ws Mundus Agit Hiftiionem, Lifes' a poor Player, 'That frets and firms his Hour on the Stage, And then is heard no more. To Mr. W s, with a Mamtfcript Play, Sir, WITH this I have fent you, by a par- ticular Friend, a Manufcript Tragedy, not doubting your Juftice and Under/landing, fo far as to fear its Reading and Reception^ Were it my own, I fhould not be fo confident of its Succefs, either with you or the Town ; but it being an Alteration of the beft Performance of a very popular Poet, feveral of whofe Tragedies are ftill aded with the higheft Applaufe, it gives me the Aflurance to hope that it will have a more particular Regard from you, than if it had been the Produd of the prefent Time. I could have many Recommendations from the beft Judges, but that one of your CoL'eagues once told me on a like Occafion, that a Play muft recommend itfelf; which, indeed, had been true, were it to come before competent D 2 Judges i Judges ; but tvhcn Fancy and unguidcd Opinion are to decide the Cafe, one would imagine that the Approbation of a real Judge in the Art might have been of fome Weight and Ccnfe- quence ; for as few Gentlemen will purchafe Pidures of any Value, without confulting a Mailer in the Art of Painting ; for fear of ma- king fo worthlefs a Colledion, as a certain Nobleman of this Nation once did ; Co it feems an equal piece of Prudence, that Gentlemen of your Pod fliould have fome regard to the Opi- nion of the great Mailers of Tragedy. But iince that is not always to be had, and fometimes is obtained thro* Favour, by thofe who do not at all -deferve it : And Iince the Diredors of the Play-houfe are generally Perfons who declare againfl the Rules of Art, as Obftacles to Per- fedion and Excellence, at leafl, to the taking of a Playj I fhall lay down two or three Ob- fervations, by following of which they will be fure never to receive a Play which will not pleafe the Town. Mr. Betterton told me once, upon talking on this Siibjed, that King Charles II was us*d to fay, he wondcr'd how the Players, that were perpetually converfant with Plays, could be fo frequently deceived, as not to have one in three anfwer their Expedation. The Reafon of this, continued he, feems to be the filling our Heads, and loading cur MemOiies, with good and bad promifcuoufly, which confounds our Judgment, as having no fix'd and llated Rules to form it by, the Taile of the Town being fo uncertain and fickle, that our Obfervation of what had pleas'd could aftbrd us very little Help in the Matter, fincc the fame Things, that had been receiv'd t57] receiv'd one S-afon with the greatefl and moft univerfal Applaufe, are hifb'tl ofi- the Stage the next. To remove this' Uncertainty, at leaft, as to Tragedy, the Subjeft oF my prefent Writing, I fhaU lay down fome Remarks for your Guide, which never did, nor never will miflead you, or any one concerned in your Poft ; you muil have a care not to be bewitch'd with what they call fine Language ; it is not (o eafy a Matter to diftinguifh what is fo, or what will be thought To by the Town, as to receive or rejeft a Play upon that Account : 'Tis true, there are feveral Plays have met with Succefs, only for the Opi- nion that the Audience had of theFinenefs of the Didion, whether that Opinion was grounded in Juflice, or in Fancy alone ; I fhall not there- fore wifh you to have much Regard to that, fince there is nothing in it to be depended upon ; what I fhall tell you is infallible : You are called Actors, becaufe the Bufinefs of playing is Ac- tion j the very Name of a Play, in the Ori- ginal, llgnifies Action >• and it is certain, let the Aftion be good or bad, it will always keep the Attention of the Audience, and the more con- ftant and violent the Action is, the more it will be attended by them ; wherever there is Paffionj there rauft neceflarily be Adion; thofe Trage- dies therefore, that have a perpetual Sacceilion of Paffion, can never mifcarry. It is this Quali- ty that hais preferv'd and ftill keeps up the Tra- gedy of Alexander the Gieat, which Mr. Crawn found fault with, in ' a Difcourfe with me one Day, becaufe it was continually on the fr£r3 as he call'd it, from the Beginning to the Endj that is, the Paifions were lively and ftrong D 3 through [jn through the whole Piece, which (o took up the Audience, that they had no Leifure or Interval of Quiet to grow weary and be difgnfted. The Play I fend }-ou is of this kind; there is a perpetual Succe/Iion of Paflions, joyn'd with a wondcTfiil Dillrtfs, which mud fecure you againlt all Fears of its Reception. I fliall therefore fay no more about it, being fatisfy'd that I have put it into the Hands of a Man of Honour, tho' a Player ; for I am not of their Opinion who think thofe Terms incom- patible ; I am furc they have not always been lb, the Players in Athens were generally Men of Figure, at leaft, of Learning and fingular Parts ; and were often fitted by the Stage for Embaffies of the Commonwealth. In Romey where I con- fcfs the Stage and Playing had not that honour- able Rife as in Greece; yet there I find, in Oceros Time, the principal Players were not a little valued by the Nobility : Thus, in his Oration for Archias the Poet, I find Cicero (peaking to the Qiiality of Rcmcy in this manner : IVho of ycu i::ere not lately comeyn'd arid grievd for the Death of Rofcius, thinking that he ought^ indeed, to have been immortal, for that fupreme Excellence of ii-hich he WC15 Mafler in his Art ? j^fopus was a Tragedian about that Time, of equal Efleem among the Romans, and both of them admitted to particular Familiarity with the greateft Men in Rome ; and the Son of the latter, had thofe immenfe Riches left him by his Father, tha: r.e would diilblye and drink off a precious Gem cf great Price at a Draught. I fhall not go farrher in the Roman Empire, nor touch upon thofe Players who mads fo confiderable a Figure .i:; the luaperiai Court, in the Time of Nero, iind [39] and fome others ; becaufe it may be faid, that the Favour they met with, was owing rather to the Corruption of thofe Times, than to their Merit as Adors. No, I will come to tfie Thing itfelf, the in- trinfick VaUie of the Profeffion. Petronius tells us, that lotus Mundus agit Hijirionem ; That is, all the World are Players. You muft know. Sir, that the antient Adors, both of Greece and Rome, wore over their Faces a fort of Vizor Mask, which they callM Perfona; this Mask was formed, as near as they could, to reprefent the Countenance of the Hero whom tiiey aded, which Likenefs they took, either from the Defcriptions of Hiftory, or from the Pictures and Statues of the moft famous Painters and Sculptors, and fo contriv'd, as not to hinder the Lines of the Face from ap- pearing, as the Pa/Tion they reprcfented re- quir'd,- how this was done, indeed, is not fo cafily difcover'd by thofe Perfona, which we have received from them in their Bajfo relievos; but I can depend upon an AlTurance given me by a great and ingenious Nobleman of this King- dom, that the firl^ Italian Comedians who came into Frai7cej and wlicm he faw, had contriv'd the Maj-ks they aded in fo artfully, that they could, notwithftanding them, make thofe feveral Alte- rations in their Countenance -which their Parts required. But be this as it will, I have not time to run thro' a full Difquifition of the Mat- ter j nor would it be very much to our prefent Purpofe, it's enough for me to obferve, that this D 4 Mask [40] Mask gave occafioii to this Saying of Petroniuf, That all the World arc Players ; that is, all Men put on a Face that is not their own, and ad Parts which do not always agree with their own Temper and Inclinations. For this Reafon likewife. Players were call'd H)pccritj:, or Hypo- crites j that iSy Perfons who appear to be one thing and were another. As on the Stage you have good Actors and bad, fo in the greater World, of which yours is a fort of Miniature, there are aukward Hypocrites, whom every Per- fon difcovers to be mere Adors j and there are others, who are fuch cxquifite Mafters in the Art of DifTembling or A(^ting, that the Specta- tors cannot but believe they are what they feem to be ,• and it requires fome Time, and Difcernment too, to find them out. Ned Prim puts on a faintly Appearance, Gravity in hi$ Countenance, Severity in his Difcourfe, with all that Cenforioufnefs on the Wickednefs and Vices of the Age, which the greateft Religion and Innocence could fcarce juflify ; and yet Nei^ is a very Libertine in his Heart, and in his Life* a perfed Con trad id ion to his Words and Pro- feifions. Harry Graveairs loves the Company of the Gay and the Young, particularly of Women, of which, when he makes his Efcape out of the City, he'll be fure to mingle with the moll vile and lewd, provided they are but Young ; but within Teinple-Bar, and fo to the very remoteft eafterly Parts of the Town, he afteds to be thought an Admirer of the Grave and the An- tient, whether Male or Female ; and ads his Part fo well, that he pafies for a very worthy aitd'fober Citi2en, whofe Blood is very Snow- broth,, as Shakefpear calls it, pecfedly cold and "~^ ' • , chilling. Iv ] chilling, and whofe Pulfe never beats high enough to warm him to any irregular Defires. Thus every Morning he pays his Court to two old Aunts, the younger of which is fourfcore; with them he pafTes conftantly fome Hours, and has perfuaded them there is no Company in the World fo agreeable as theirs, tho' he curfes them in his Heart, and wifhes the Devil would fetch 'em the next Moment, that he might come im- mediately into the PofTeflion of forty Thoufand Pounds, which he expeds from them as the Reward of his Hypocrify, and which, if he ob- tains, as moil certainly he will, if he happen to outlive them, you will fay that he is an excel- lent Player ; and that he has performed his Part with the utmoft Succefs. Thus might I go thro" all the Charafters and Stations of Life, and fcarce find one that does not more or lefs difguife his own Thoughts and Inclinations; and fo may well come into the Number of thofe who are called by Petronhu Players. They may objeft, for the leflening the Efteem of your Profeffion, that it is Mercenary, and that you affume a borrowed Shape only to get Money ; but then they do not confider that all their Difguife is not only for the fame End, but mif- chievous ,• yours is direded to divert and pleafc us, theirs to ruin us and give us Pain. Shakef^ear has another Saying not much unlike this. Life's a poor Player ^ That frets and flnits his Hour on the Stage^ And then is heard no more. This Refleftion of Shakefpea/s Is drawn from an- other Conlideration than that I have mention'd out [ 4i ] out of Petronius ; the former chiefly regards the diflembling of Mankind j this the Shorcncfs of his Duration, and the little Confequence of the moil noify and important of his Actions ; all that Hurry and Buftle, that the greatel^ make ufe of in their purfuirs of Wealth or Ambition, their Enmities and Revenge^ and all their other PalTions, vanifii in. an Hour, are heard no more, nor remembered longer than the fretting and ftrutting of an Aftor on the Stage, which is forgot almoft as foon as the Curtain falls. Thefe two Inftances are fufficient to fhow the Value of the Profcflion of a Player, that is fuch an Emblem of Humanity, that conveys to us, at one View, the Manners of all the World : I might here mention the great Ufe and Benefit of Achug to Mankind, and how much it con* tributes to the promoting of Virtue ; but that this Advantage is only accidental to it, and not efifential, as arifing from their afting good Tra- gedies, whofe inflriiLcive Moral mull: teach us fome Virtue, or warn us of Tome Vice or Folly ; and this is properly and cfl'entially due to the Poet, for the Player may, and often does, aft Plays that are a mere fruiilcfs Amufement. But whither am I wandrcd from the Point and proper Bufmefs of my Letter, which was to recommend the Tragedy I have fent you ? and hope, that tho' you are an excellent Player on the Stage, I fhall not find you fo off on it, but that truly hcnefl Gentleman you wtr^ al- ways taken to be, by, Sir, Tour wojl humble Se; vanty Christophir Mean well. [43] LETTER III. The Antiquated Upbore, Audivere Dimea vota Lyce. To Mrr. D at her Houfe near King- ftreet, Covent-garden. For Shame, for Shame give o'er^ 'Thou over-ridden IVhore. A Very odd Beginning, you'll fay, Madam, of a Letter to a Lady. True, but to an old Harradan, no more than is her due : I think you are now in your fifty fifth Year; therefore tis time to leave off all thofc foft Addrefl'es to which you were, perhaps, us'd about fome five and thirty Years ago : Can you not forget all the Flatteries of your Youth, when you have no Flatterer left but yourfelf? Do you never confult your Looking-glafs ? or does that like- wife flatter you, when Mankind have forfaken the filly Ofiice ? no, certainly that muft ftiow you your wrinkled Brow, your hollow Eyes and Cheeks, your empty hanging Breafts, that is, I mean, before you have put your Plumpers on, before you have dawb'd your Face o'er with a thick Plaiffer of Paint, and fill'd up the gaping Furrows of your Brow, and added the Vermillion, or Spanifi Red, to your Cheeks, in hopes [44] hopes to betray feme foolifli Wanderer to your withered Arms. Alas, you labour in vain, poor Creature 1 the amorous rolling of your Eyes within your concave Brows dart no warming Fires ; but, like a Candle in the Socket, give a {linking Blaze : Notwithftanding all this, no bo- dy fo frequent in the Park, at the Play, and all the Reforts of the young and gay, as Mrs. D • Prithee, leave off that gaudy frippery. Drefs, it betrays thee into abundance of Error ; for \yhile tb? very , Journeymen and Apprentices flare at thee, at thy extravagant and fanta flick Ornaments of Body, and, pointing, fliow thee to one another, thou art fo very abundantly vain as to pleafe thy Folly with the monflrous Imagination, that if is thy Charms which have called them to their Shop-doers, and made them look after thee. Prithee, fond Thing ! is it not time for thee to begin to think, to grow ferious and repent of the Sins of fo many revolving Years fpent in the Riot of an uninterrupted Lufl ? Art thou not weary of a Lewdnefs, one Year of which would have tired the mofl Salacious of thy Sex befides ? Mejfalina was but a faint Type of thee, and own'd herfelf often tired with the Sport ; but thou never fatisfy a nor tired, flill dofl purfue the flying Filthinefs with un- wearied Endeavours. It is fo long fince firfl you fet oi^t in this fcandalous Courfc, that you may with QuaniUa the Bawd, in Petrcnim Arbitery fay, "^nmnem meam iratarn habeam, Jtunquam me- minerem me 'vhginem fiiiffe ; that is, may Juno be my Foe^ if J remember that J ever was a Virgin. You have gain*d this Advantage by what you have done, that you may fay of yourfelf what an [45] an old Poet faid of the Greatnefs of old Rome, QrHs in Vrbe, the World is in the City. For I dare believe that you have grafp'd within the Circle of your hofpitable Arms Men of all Countries, Religions, Seds and Fadions i you made a general Comprehenfion, and refufed none to come within your Pale, on Account of their Opinion, provided they brought but a fubftan- tiai and vigorous Oftering: All Degrees, from the Lord to the Footman, from the Parfon to the Sexton, from the Alderman to the Cobler, from the General to the private Centinel, have found you eafy : So that indeed you may be al- lowed to have been very impartial in the J^i(- penfation of your Favours, and, like the Sun, to have ftiin'd on all, without Regard to the Dif- tindion of Perfons. But, prithee, now thy Sua of Youth is fet, exped no more Adorers in a Night that affords nothing but unwholfome, and unfavory Damps, and froufy Vapours that contaminate all that approach it. With what Confcience, with what unmeafurable Affu- rance canft thou cxped the moft abandoned to be wicked with thee, when thou ferveft in to the criminal Feaft, not only a Death's Head, but a putrid Carcafs that fmells rankly of the Grave ? Moll. HintoHy when fhe had pafs'd bat thro' half thy Lewdnefs, weary of the Fatigue, left this wicked Town, retir'd to aMonaftery, and turn'd Nun. Let me advife thee, even for thy own fake, to take the fame Courfe. Who knows but that the brawny Fryars, or the fat jolly Monks, may, out of pure Zeal to the faving of thy Soul, furnifli thee with a new Scene of Pleafure ? for though thou art fo ilale here, that the ve- ry [4<5] ry Porters and Chair-men run on the other (Ide the Way whene'er they fee thee coming ; thou wilt be to them a while, at leaft, a new Face : So have I feen a Drab, that had pafs'd all the Stations and Conditions of Whoredom, get into the Play-houfe, and there pafs for a frefh Beau- ty. But I am tired with this odious Theme, for it is in vain to give thee good Advice ,- fo that I wifli thy Cuckold may retrench thy Al- lowance fo low, that it may only aftbrd thee Bread and Water, which perhaps may tame thy infatiate Defires, and bring thee to remember that thou art mortal ; which are the hearty and iincere Wiflies of Tom. Teltroth. [47] LETTER IV. That every Man makes his own Fortune, A Paradox. Facit fuam quifque FortunaTiu To Mr. Wailfull, to be left at Will's Cojfee- houfe in Cornhill, London. Coujin Will, YOUR Letters are always fijll of your Complaints of Fortune ; I am forry it is not in my Power to redrefs the Injuries fhe does you : I am afraid you caft your own Dcfeds, and the Evils that flow from your own impru- dent Condud upon her ; for it is my Opinion, that few Men are unhappy, but by their own Fault : You are got into the Mart of the World, where good Fortune is daily purchased by the Induftrious and Careful. How many have wc known in our Time, who, having trudg'd it on Foot to that great City, have arriv'd at great Wealth ? How many, from Footmen and Me- nial Servants, have come to be Men of great Polls and Power ? It is impoifible to fuppofe this to be the Work of Chance, it muft therefore be owing to their Induftry and Care, to their Know- ledge in improving fuch Accidents and Oppor- tunities, as offer themfelves, to their bed Advan- tage. \. Have [ 48 ] Have you confider'd maturely ? Have you ex- amined yourfelf with that Severity, which Pru- dence requires, and yet found no Flaw in your Condud:, that fhould produce the Evils you complain of? Have you always been careful to take Caution for the Guide of your Dealings ? Has your Induftry flill laid hold of thofe Occa- lions, which, in their Front, promis'd you Ad- vantage ? For pofl eft Occafio calva. Opportunity has only a Forelock, but is ail bald behind ; and if it flip by you, as it is generally very fwift, in vain you look after it, in vain you pur- fue it with fruitlefs Wifhes ; your Pace will al- ways be too flow to overtake it. No, let it pafs, and be more careful of flopping the next that offers. But if you want Knowledge enough to diffinguifli what is a real Opportunity of Be- nefit and Advantage, all your Induftry, all your Pains and Labour are utterly thrown away. Befidcs this, there are other Conditions which you muft obferve, if you would thrive in the World ; you muft not only ftudy the Flumour, Inclinations, PaiTions and Intereft of all thofe you have to do with, but you muft learn the iiappy Art of turning all, and each of them to your own Ufe and Advantage. If this require more Pains and Application than you think they are worth ; if you are fo flothful that you can- not give your whole Thoughts, your Time and Endeavours to this Duty, and therefore mifs your Aim, blame not Forturfe, blame your own Supinity, who rather neglect the Means of at- taining your End, than quit a Lazinefs that can produce nothing but Miiery and Want. There' is ftill another thing necefl'ary to your Condud ; you muft wholly di\Qik yourfelf of your Paf- fions^ I [49] ficHis ; yoii muft know nothing of Pride, Anger, or Revenge, till you have made your Forcune ,• you muft take no Notice of the Infolence, Neg- led or Affronts of thofs who are above you : Nay, you muft not feera fo much as to under- ftand them, but pafs on with an unwearied Importunity, till you have vanquilh^d all thefe petty Difficulties, and are arrivM at Power or Wealth yourfelf i then you may ufe all thofe below you in the fame fcurvy Manner in which you have been ufed : And yet a wife Man, tho' fix'd at the Top of Fortune's Wheel, will be ve- ry cautious of confulting his Revenge, or any of the more violent Paffions in the Condud of his Adions, becaufe Power ftands on fo ticklifli a Point, that oftentimes the provoking of the meaneft Enemy, may raifc fuch a Tempeft, that in its Confequence may overturn it. I have known a very great Man, whofe Power was thought impregnable, and whom no Injuries nor Aftronts could ever provoke to a vifible Anger; not that he forgot the Injury receiv'd, buc fmooth'd o'er his Paflion fo, as to give fuch Se- curity to the Perfon that had oiFer'd it, that dif- arm'd him of his Guard againft any future Re- venge. But when Time and Accidents had con- cur*d to prefent him with the defir'd Minute of his long-v/aited Revenge, he ftruck home, and fo entirely ruin'd his Opponent, that he never afterwards could hurt him. The Rojmm, in their War with the Samnites^ were, by the Imprudence of their Gep.eral, drawn into a Nook, furrounded with Hills, and there hem'd in by the Enemy. The General of the Samnites fending to the State to know* what he fiiould do with them, having them en- E tirely [50] tirely in his Power ; tiiey confulred a reverend old Senator, whofe Name I have forgot, who advis'd them to cut them all to Pieces. But that feeming too fevere, he next advis'd them to difmifs them all freely and honourably ; for, faid he, if you continue the War, by my firfk Advice you had cut oft" To many Enemies ; by the fecond, you would make them all your Friends, and by that obtain an honourable Peace. But the Samnttes took neither of the Advices J on the contrary, they difarm'd the Ro- mmi Army, and made them pafs every Man in a difgraceful Manner und^r the Forks, which were caird Fnrca Cnudma, from the Place. But what was the Event of tins ? Why, the Romans, mad with tiie Difgrace, returr/d with frefti Armour, and purlu'd the War with that Vigour, that they fi.bdu'd the Siimnitcs. This Advice that was rejcded, atibrds a ufcful LeiTon to all Men in Power, who, i!^ tliey ever ftrike their Enemy, they muft be fure to flrike home ,• or make him their Friend by feme generous Aftion. If none of thefe Meihods pleafe you, there is but one Way tiiat 1 know ot, to fecure your Happineis, and that is, by letting yourfelf above Fortune, quitting all the Purfuits of her Favours, contemning her Benefits, and contenting your- felf with what you are. And thus every Man may make his own Fortune what he pleafes, good or bad. I wifh my Advice may be as ufe- ful to you, as I intend it, which will be no fmall Satisfaftion to your Faith/id Frtaidy andhviag Kinf7nanf Humphrey W r- i c h w e l i* [ 51 ] LETTER V. Love is a Warfare, Mlitat omnis Amansj & haktfua Caflra Cupido. To Samuel Lovemore Efq; at his Chumherf in the Inner Temple, London. Dear Sam, YO U fend me Word, that you are migh- tily fallen in Love ,• the News is not (o agreeable to me, as to give me much Satisfac- tion, fince I confider what Fatigues you muft undergo in the Purfuit of a proud and fcornful Woman ; fince, if I miflake nor, you are not cut out any more for a Soldier of Cupid, than of Mars ; you are of too lazy a Temper, and love your Eafe and Quiet too much to atchieve any great Matter in either. Have you confider'd what it is to be a Lover ? Do you know that Love is a perfeft Warfare, if you will believe the great Mailer of Love, Ovid. Militat omnis Amansy & hahetfiia cajira Cupido, When once you have declared War ; that isy as Toon as you have told the Fair One, that you are in Love with her, (he puts herfelf in a Pofture of Defence, and intrenches herfelf round about with Pride, Coynefs, Ill-nature, Ill-humour and fcurvy Ufage ; and you muft by your Art or E 2 Prowefs [5^] Prowefs level all ihefe Iritrenchments before c- ver you can pretend to take Pofl'efTion of" the Place. To accomplifii which, you mufl: ufe great Diligence, great Boldnefs, and many Strata- gems ; for Cunning is as neccflary in the War- tare of Love, as the modern Princes have found it to be in their Conqucfis of Towns and Na- tions. And the late grand Monarch ow'd the fpreading of his Arms more to this than Valour. The chief Part of this Cunning depends upon your Freenefs, your Eafinefs m parting with your Money ; for Gold has had a ftrange Influ- ence on that Sex, ever lince the time of Danae. That yoniig Lady's Father knowing how hard a Matter it was to keep his Daughter's Maiden- head, believing that it was not fecured enough by her Virtue, clap'd her up in a brazen Tower under Bolts, and Bars, and Guards, both Male and Female, of old Fellows and antiquated Maids, who being pall Pleafure themfelves, are gene- rally watchful and vigilant enough to hinder the pleafure of other People. But all this was a meet fruitlcfs Precaution, forj^o^^^^ who had fcen and lik'd the Girl, knew very well how to come at heti for being fo profafe of his Gold, that he was fabled to come down in a Golden Shower, he made all the Brazen Bars and Bolts fly open, and blinded the'Eyes of her Guards fo far, that he eafily pafs'd to the Lady, and got upon her a future Hero. Thus you mufl not fpare yout Purfe, you mufl be fare to bribe Abigail i for the Chamber-maid is often let into her MiflreiVs Secrets, which flie never fails to betray, pro- vided (he be but v.'cll paid ; for the treacherous Ahigiiil will let }ou know your Miflrefs's weak- eil lide, by which you may furprize her ; fhe will [55] will teli you the lucky Minute when ah' the P^if- fes are left unguarded, that at other times prove impregnable. I will confirm this Polition by one Example out of a thoufand, on the Truth of which you may depend. Beleaguar was a Gentleman of DevoaJIjirey of a handfome Eftate, and hne Accomplifhments both of Mind and Perfon ,• Fortune had furnifh'd him with all the Means of Happinefs, had he not fallen in Love with Clarmda, for whom his Paf- fion was fo excelTive, tliat all her ill Ufage, her Coynefs, and even ill Manners could not abate it. But finding that he could make no progrcfs in her Heart, he apply'd himfjlf to Abigail, whom he foon won witii his Generolity to come entire- ly into his Interefl ', fhe, like a true Chamber- maid, informed him that he had a very dangerous Rival, not in any Man, but in the Bottle, for that her Miflrcfs every Night got drunk by herfelf before flie went to Bed, fb that if Pol- fefTion of her Perfon was what he aim'd at, he need not doubt his Satisfaction the following Night. Accordingly when her Miftrefs had taken her fleeping Dofe, he was let into her Chamber by the Maid, went to Bed, and found no Cp~ pofition. This he repeated fometimes, takuig care always of a generous Fee for trufty Ahi- gaU. There is certainly a fort of Witchery in Love, which holds the Hearts thoroughly pof- fes'd by it in fuch ftrong |jands, that the Fol- lies and Vices of the belov'd are unable to break them. Thus it was with Bekaguar j Cla- rindas Drunkennefs, his PofleflTion cf her, her continu'd vifible Cruelty to him, all had noc |;he leafl influence ai^ainlt his AfFeciion, Abigail E ^ °at -o' [54] • at laft informs him that her Miftrefs was with Child, and that Ihe had examin'd her with all the Strictnefs imaginable, whether Ihc had not betray'd her in her unguarded Hours ; but that fhe had brought her by Proteflations and Oaths to a perfeft Belief of her Innocence, and to think feme other had found out the Secret of her Nightly Debauch, and made ufe of that Difcovery to gratify their Inclinations. Beleaguar thought this a lucky Opportunity to bring her to marry him, and to make her the more readily, comply, he forbore his Vifits as if he had given over his Suit ; but now Chirindns Belly beginning to fwell to fuch a Largenefs that fhe could not well conceal it much longer, Ihe began to wifli that fhe had us'd him with more Mildnefs, and fo by Marriage have fecur'd herfelf againfl that Shame and Infamy that threaten'd her. Abigail having full Information of her Miftrefs's good Difpofition towards him, he renew'd his Vifit ; in fhort, they agreed and were privately mar- ried, and in due time Clarinda was brought to Bed of a lovely Boy, who thrived and grew up in the Favour of his Father, but Hatred of his Mother. She would every now and then be wifhing Ihe knew whofe Baftard it was ; he al- ways told her, my Dear, trouble not thyfelf, ^tis mine : Yours, fa id flie, I mean, I wifh I knew who begot it. To put an end to her Vexation in that Particulajr, after fome Years Marriage he fairly told her the whole Truth. It was in the Morning before they arofe vvlien he made this Difcoveryi Ihe faid nothing to him, but as foon as he was rid out a hunting, fhe drefl herfelf and went away to her Father's, with whom her Husband had been at Enmity for fome fomc time. Clarinda made out her Story To efteftually, that, blinded by Revenge, they had the Husband taken up for a Rape and brought to his Tryai, in which, tho' he came off with Life, he loft his Satisfadion in a perpetual Sc;- paration from his Spoufe, on which he left the Country, and fpent the reft of his Days in Lon- don, in a profeft Enmity of all Woman-kind, for the fake of Clarinda. This is enough to fhew you how neceffary it is for a Lover to be in with the Chamber- maid. But befides this, you are not to omit all Stratagems that you can think of j you muft fol- low her all Day, and every Day ; nay, that won't be enough, you muft not To much as let Jier fleep a Nights, you muft quit your Downy Bed, and with Fiddles and Voices charm her from hers ,* till by haunting her every Way, meeting her at all Places where flie goes, you convince her that fhe is your whole Bufincfs, and takes up all your Thoughts and Time. My mention- ing the Serenading Part, brings into my Head no unpleafant Adventure that happened on that Account in my Time. The young Lord Fcmmechace had purfuM CUe, a young Coquet and Beauty, and then the Reigning Toaft of the Town, for fome time to Jittle purpofe. He frequently Serenaded her, and was fo troublefome to her, that ftie left her Lodgings of a fudden ,• into which no fooner was a Jealous old Fellow come with his Wife, but my Lord, not knowing that Cke was gone, comes with his Fiddlers to give her a Serenade about two a-Clock in the Mprning. The very Tuning of the Fiddles alarm'd the Jealoufy of the old Husband, and made him quarrel E 4 with [ 5^ 1 with his Wife, for being fo abandon'd a Jads to give her Gallants fuch early Notice ; to avoid which he had mov'd in fuch a hurry, that no Body could have difcover'd where fhe was, without her being privy to the Information. All fhe could fay, and all her Proteftations were to no manner of Purpofe ; for now the Violins began to fpeak aloud, and the Voices were founding of the Praife of the charming ChCi which put the old Man beyond all Patience ; he gets out of Bed, takes up the Jourdan, runs to the Window, opens the Shutters, throws up the Sa(h, and fends out his Urine upon my Lord and the Fiddlers. The finging Mafter Hood diredly in his Way ; who, as he was warbling out his Notes with open Mouth, recciv'd fome- thing in it more unfavory than what he fent out. You may imagine the Company were a litttle furpriz'd at fuch a Reception, and mov'd my Lord that they might have leave to break the Windows ; whilft they were debating what to do, the Rain being over, the Thunder fol- lowed, for from the fame Window a Piflol was difcharg'd, which fo frighted the Crowderd'sy that they immediately run away without regard to their Cremona s, which in their Flight receiv'd many a Contuiion againfl the Pofls in the Dark. But a worfe Misfortune befell 'em, the Watch happen'd to be going their Rounds that Minute, and hearing the Noifc of the Piftol, and finding them fcamper at that Rate , feiz'd all they could lay Hands on to carry them before Mr. Conflable, in order to have them committed to the Round-houfe, till the Worfhipful Mr. Juflice fiiould be up to hear their Caufe, and fo tQ acquit or fend thehi to a fafer Durance. In ^•' ■ ■ ' the [57 1 the mean time my Lord, who run not with the Scoundrels, met with a Friend of his coming from the Tavern , who foon undeceiv'd his Lordfliip in his fuppos'd Injury receiv'd from CloCi and let him know, that, inflead of her, he had addrefs'd his Song and Mufick to the mofl Jealous old Coxcomb in England. My Lord per- fwades his Friend to go with him to the Con- ftabie's Stand, where he found his harmonious Myrmidons endeavouring to pacify the Rage of the Midnight Magiftrate -, by telling him that they were a Company of Fiddlers hir'd by my Lor4 Fe-mmechace to Serenade a young Lady near that Place, but that they had been receiv'd, hrft, with a Pifspot, and then with a Piflol, the fudden Fear of which had put them into that Confufion.in which they were taken. Phoo, Mr. Conftable, faid one of the Watch, they are a Company of Rogues and in confederacy with Houfebreakers, to whom they are as neceflary, as a Ballad-iinger to a Pick-pocket; why it was but t'other Day, Mr. Conftable, v/hen a Band of thefe RaggamufEns were a Serenading as they call it, and whilft they had drawn all the Family to the fore Windows with their Fiddles, the Houfe- breakers got in, and gutted the backfide of the Houfe moil neatly ,• therefore, I fay, Mr. Con- ftable, fend them all to the Round-houfe. My Lord perceiving by the wife Nods of the Con- flable, that his Company were in fome danger of Captivity, approached the Conftable and made himfelf and his Friend known unto him, by which, and giving the Watch a Crown to drink, ;hey were all convey 'd to the next Tavern. So [ 58] So that, my Friend, you mufl: have a care never to be ignorant of your Miftrefs'i) Lodgings. I ex- ped now every Letter to be fiil'd with your Complaints of hard Ufage, of Cruelty, Pride, and the Lord knows what ; but thofe will only make me laugh, they being the ufual Companions of Lovers. I wilh you eicher in your Miftrefs's Arms, or free from her Inchantments; I think the latter is the kinder Wifh, and therefore *ti5 repeated, by Dear Sam, T'by faithful Friend and Servant, Anthony Easelove. 1^9 1 s-ay«\''vy«v.v//vv/^ yz^'ii'f'iy'^^^'i^'fi ^1'4J'l'^^''.'i^".'^^".'4i"5 i"''i^'i'-'"<;^^'i i^i'jJ^ljJ^^/jJ^^/jJ^*^^ i';A-^/^.i^;A^/:J^l;A^yJ. W/;.i*/:M;^^k^*/;A. ^/jMj^^l^jJ^ LETTER VI. On Poverty, Nil habet infelix Paupertoi dnrim mfe, Qua?n quod ridiculos homines facit. To Richard Vainthought Efq-, at his Houfe near jFeverfham in Kent. My good Friend, Ijufl received yours of the x^th, having not been two Days in Town. Letters from you are always welcome ; but I am ferry you know fne fo ill, as to think you need an Apology for the Company you brought me into the Night be- fore I left you ; I mean Jack Truezuit. You fay he is a poor unfortunate Fellow, that you fome- times divert yourfelf with, for want of other Company, but did not know of his coming when you had mine, and a great deal more to this purpofe. But, dear Dick, I think you have more caufe to make an Excufe to me that you did not let me have his Converfation a little fooner. You fay he is very poor ; I am forry for it, I am fure he does not deferve to be fo, and I wifh he had all the Superfluities of the Fools in your Parts to make him otherwife, and then you and they would think him a fine Fellow. But is he not the fame Man now .^ is his Wit really the lefs becaufe his Pockets are empty ? if not, why is he not as a^ree- [do] agreeable Company as if he had all that he wants ? But I never form my Opinion of Men by their Appearance, but their Senfe, and naufeate a Fool in fine Cloaths, and would fiiun his Company with the utmofl Cai;tion, at the fame time that I would court that of a, Man of Wit and Learning in Rags. I was t'other Day taking a Walk in the Mall, and meeting with a Friend of mine of a great deal of Merit, I took a Turn with him ,• he happened to be but in a very mean Drefs, and who fiiould we meet but the young Lord IVonh- tefs ? upon whofe coming up to me, my Friend took his leave and went away. Dear Harry ^ fays my Lord, you are a very pretty Fellow, and drefs's as well as any Man, and are as well re- ceiv'd amongft the Ladies ; but thou hail a flrange unaccountable Whim of picking up odd and fcandalous Companions, that a hne Gsncleman fhould be alham'd to be feen with. My Lord, faid I, Vm perfcdiy to feek in your Lordlhip^'s Meaning, for I believe there is no Man more cautious of avoiding fcandalous Company than myfelf. Ha, ha, ha, faid my Lord, refufe me if thou art no: a moll incomprehenlible Perfon ; why what a itrange Creature you parted with juil now ? He is indeed, reply'd I, my Lord, a very ilrange Perfon, if the Uncommonnefs of a Thing makes it flrange ; for he is a Man of extraordinary Senfe, fipc Literature, and honefl, Qiialities not very cafily met with in the fame Perfon in this Age. Extraordinary Senfe, fine Literature, and Ho ef- ty, faid my Lord ! hum- it may be fo, but refufc me if he does not make a moil: ridiculous Figure ; what the Devil makes him wear fucli fcurvy CiQaths ? My Lord, becaufe he has no betier, [ ^I ] better, faid I ; but I don't converfe with a Man's Cloaths, but himfelf j if your Lordftiip don't like his Cloaths, it would be very wor- thy of your Generofity to give him better; his Merit will highly julHfy your Bounty ; and fince your Lordfhip has put me in Mind on't, i muft prefs you to do fomething handfomely for him. Hum faid my Lord, do for him! hum, hum, honeft Harry, refufe me if I can at this Time ; for what with fubfcribing to Ope- ra's, taking Tickets of the Adrefles for their Benefits, and other neceflary Expences of this Kind, I have no loofe Money to beftow in. Charity j why there's Mrs. Pert came to me but Yefterday, and got forty Guineas of me for her Benefit-day. Well, Harry, fhe's a charming Creature ; what a Bofom is there, fit for a God to lie upon 1 My Lord, I allow, faid I, flie's a good pretty fort of a Woman enough, and has Charms enough for a Lady of her Station ; but what are a Thoufand fuch as (he, in compari- fon of one Man of Merit } Nay, thou fay'ii right, interrupted my Lord ; but here comes the CoPMt with the ugly Face, and I mufl fpeak with him, to know ivhen the next Ajfembly mil be. With that he flatted from me, and went diredly to him ; a Man who by his Impudence, and our Folly, has got Money enough to buy a Princi- pality in his own Country. He immediately join'd him. Will Biter and his Coufin ^acky two Fellows more fcandalous than the former j but being well dreft, my Lord thought them fit Company to appear in. 'Jack is a Fellow born to a good Eftate, but having thrown it foolifhly away, now lives upon Women, and in fuch a Port [ <5z ] Port and , Equipage as gives him AdtnifTion to Perfons of the iirft Quality. As for If^il/, he fup- ported himfelf by downright Gaming,- yet thefe Scoundrels feem'd not fcandalous Company to his Lordfliip, tho' my Friend did. It put me in Mind of what Juvenal fays. Nil hahet infelix paupertcu durim in fe. Quant quod ridkulos homines facit. Unhappy Poverty has nothing more fevere and cruel than its rena ring Men ridiculous i for moft Men think but fuperficially of Things, and are therefore flricken with the firft Appearance of a Man, either m his Favour, or in his Prejudice, and a poor Appearance is fure with mofl Men to do the latter. The Rich hear all that fuch a one fays with Contempt, if not with Laughter, for they can't conceive that what a poor Man fays fhou'd be of any Confequence, tho' fpoke by the Tongue of the fineft Orator. Rochefoucault fays. That the tcay to do a Mans Bufinefs in the Worlds is toperfwade the World that it is done already. By a Parity of Reafon 'tis a fure way never to do one's Bufinefs, to let the World fee that we do really want its Affiftance ; which is confirm'd by a Vulgar Proverb of ours. To be Poor andfeem Poor, is to be Poor indeed i therefore let our NeceiTities be what they will, we ought in Prudence to cover 'em and hide 'em from Mens Eyes. Thofe that have let them grow fo far upon them, as not ro be able to do this even in their Drefs, are in- deed in a mofl deplorable Condition, and al- moil without hopes of better Days, without fome ftrange unforefeen Accident Ihould furprize them 1^3 1 them with a more agreeable Scene of Life, than they could oiherwife expeft ;,for when a Man is in this Condition, let his Merit be never fo great, he will be unable to charm from the Rich any Favour of Confequence fulEcient to remove his Misfortunes j for I know not how ic comes to pafs, the more a Man wants the lefs he is fure to receive, which muft always keep him under ; while the Icfs a Man wants, the larger is the unequal Bounty of others to him ; but as thefe Faults in the Rich are very vifible, and too well known to want any farther Proof, fo have fome of the unfortunate their Faults too, which contributes to their Continuance in Want. Butler the Author of Hudibra^, tho* he was 2 Man of extraordinary "Wit and Fancy, tho' his Merits deferv'd a much better Fate, is faid to have flarv'd, which Extremity of Poverty was owing to his own Pride and Folly j his Necefli- ties were too well known to all his Acquain- tance, to leave him a Poffibility of concealing them from them; and yet his Pride was fo into- lerable, that it was the moft difficult Thing in the World to compel him to accept of any Af- fiftance, tho' offered in the moft friendly and genteel Manner in the World. There was a Gen- tleman of his Acquaintance, and of a confidera- ble Fortune, who over a Bottle one Night had made a cleanly Conveyance of a Purfe of a hun- dred Guineas into his Pocket, which he did not at all perceive; the next Morning Btitkr finding it there was extreamly uneafy, and con- fider'd what Company he was in the Day be- fore, and found that it could be no Body but the very Gentleman that did it ; he dreft him- fclf C^4] felf and went to his Chambers, and carried witk him the Money, charged him with the Aftront, and went away in a pet^ leaving the Piirfe behind him. How could a Perfon in his Circumftances and of his Temper efcape the hard Fate of Starving, fince he refused all the Means that Fortune offered him to avoid it ? Tho' few Men in Misfortunes have this unmeafurable Pride, yet many have fo much, that it is very prejudicial to their Relief; and this is another Ridiculoufnefs of Poverty, quite out of the View of the Poet in the former Quotation. It is certain, that Poverty is a great Obftacle in our Purfuits of Fortune, Haud facile emergitnt quorum liitutibm chflat Res angufta Domi. Men feldom arrive at Profperity, whofe Virtues and Merits have not room to exert themfelves within the Bounds of their narrow Fortune, and many a noble and ufeful Defign has mifcarried by want of Ability in the Propofer. Poverty is indeed an Evil too great to need any Aggrava- tion to heighten it, I wifh you nor yours may never iind it. But let not your prefenc Profperi- ty make you overlook Merit in Rags ; be not fo terrified with this diftant Evil, as to make you avoid the Perfons opprell with it, provided they are Men of real Defert in thertifdves. My Service to Truewity and convey a Guinea to him, not as from me, but from yourfelf ,- 1 wifh it were in my Power to anfwer his Merits in a more fenfible Manner. But you know that my For- ['^5] Fortune can but juft fuffice t6 fupport me as a Gentleman. I am Tour loving Friend, Harry Hearty, POSTSCRIFT. It was an ill-natur'd Refleaion of the witty Lord Rochefier (as he was call'd) in one of nis Letters, That a poor Fellow made but a poor Friend. Nor is it in xcality true, for there may be a great many ways of proving a Man to be a ve- ry good Friend, the' he be not able lo lend his Friend Money. Friendfhip indeed does require a fort of Equality in the Pcrfons e::gag'd in it; but this is not always confir/d lo their Equality in Wealth, provided the B^llance be kept even by any other Means. Anfiides, call'd the Juft, of Athensj was a Man of a very low and penu- rious Fortune, fo far, that it was thought he wanted even Neceflaries,- he had expreft a great Friendlhip for Cal/ias, wlio, by the Favours done him by ArifUdes during his Execution of feveral Pofts of State, had heapt together conliderable Riches. The Athenians finding Arifiides fo poor, publickly accus'd CaUias as falfe to his Friend- lhip, in letting fuch a Friend want whilft he abounded j and he had certainly been con- F demn'd, 166] demn'd, had not Arifiides come into the Court and afl'ur'd the Judges that Calliai was not in fault, for that he had frequently preft him to accept a fhare in his Fortune, which he al- ways refus'd to do, that the Athenians might not think the Favours he had done his Friend were for his own fake. This Inflance {hows us, that in Athens Poverty was no Hindrance to Virtue, fince that Great Man paft thro' all the moft confiderable Pods of State in the midft of it. But vyhatever it was in Athens^ in our Time it has a quite contrary Effed ; for now Men are chofen into Pofts by their Wealth, not Virtue or Knowledge. t^7] LETTER VII. The falfe Zealot* lanfane Animis ceeleflibm Irjef ' To Mrf, Teazeall near the Abbey in Weft-: niinfter, TH O' I did not think of troubling myfelf with ever Writing to you ; yet upon the Arrival of your Nephew, and on his Account, and the barbarous Ufage he met with from you> I fhall attempt for once to wafli the Ethiop white ; for I am fenfible it is but to little pur- pofe to talk Reafon to a Woman that is wholly a Slave to her Paflions, efpecially the Paffions of Anger and Revenge. But when I confider the great Pretenfions you make to Religion, your mighty noify Zeal for the Church, I would con- clude that you were a Chriftian, and that there- fore I might have fome Hopes to bring my Ar- guments to bear. Your Quarrel with your Ne- phew, if I am rightly informed of the Matter, is thus : He in his Cups one Night was pleas'd to fay that you were not handfome, or to that purpofe, and that he wonder'd by what Witchery you held his Uncle's Heart with fo defpotick a Power ; and this, fomething magnified by the F 2 mali- [ 68 ] malicious Reprefentation of a Chamber-maid, has made you his irreconcileable Enemy. You cannot deny but that upon the Accufation he heartily difavow'd his Knowledge of any fuch thing, but that if his Drink had really betrayed him into fuch Words, they were entirely diffe- rent from his fober Thoughts, and ask'd your Pardon with the utmofl Submiffion. This would have been enough to have pacified one of the Wicked, however it has fail'd with a Lady (o religious as yourfelf. But miHake not. Madam, it is not your going to the Abbey twice a-day to Prayers, it is not your clamorous Invectives againfl all thofe that deviate in the leaft from your Opinion, that make a Perfon truly reli- gious, at lead that make a Perfon a true Chriflian ; the Doftrines of Chriftianity are of much another Tenor, they are all Love, For- givenefs, long Suffering, Patience; there is no room for Anger and Revenge, thofe you re- nounce in your baptifmal Vow. Tm afraid. Madam, you are a downright Atheifl: ; for how is it pofTible you fhould believe in God and Je- fus Chrifl, and dare to fay, forgive m our 'tref- tajfes oi nxe forgi've them that T'refpnfs againfi /«, as often over as it is daily repeated in the Of- fices of the Church , and at the fame time make your Husband turn out of Doors the near- eft Relation he has in the World, without any Means of Support, either to Starve or take 111- Courfes, meerly out of Revenge for fuch a Pec- cadillo, as the not admiring your Beauty, and to refufe all Manner of Acknowledgment and Submiilion that he can poffibly make you ? But I am preaching to the Winds, not expecting to move you m the leaftj for iince you fear Godfo little C'^9] little as to dare his Vengeance, and are no more touchM with the Precepts of the Gofpel, I can exped no happy Event of my Endeavours. I intend therefore very fpeedily to come to Town ; and if I prevail not with your Husband in your Nephew's behalf, I will at leall have the Satif- fadion in pulling off your Vizor, and fhow to all your Acquaintance how little you deferve what you fo much endeavour to obtain -, I mean the Name of a godly and religious Woman. So I bid you adieu. Joshua Weldon. [70] ;«j^ (A^f^ ^^y-j ct:s»^ i^w: LETTER VIII. On the Love of our Country, Vmcit Amor Patria — NefciOy qua Nat ale Solum Dulcedine cuncios Mukety & Jmmemores ncn finit ejfefui. To John Modernal Efq-, to be left at Man'j Coffee-Houfej Charing-Crofs. Sir, I A M very glad to hear by yours of the 15 th, that you ajre got into a very noble Poll in the Government, and I don't quelHon but that you will behave yourfelf (o well in it, that you'll convince all Men you perfedly well deferv'd it. You have impos'd a Task upon me, which I cannot fo well difcharge, as the Impor- tance of it, in my Opinion, requires ; becaufe I am here in the Country entirely without Books, and nothing but a very bad Memory to fupply me with thofe Inflances, which feeni neceil'ary on this Occafion ; however, I fhall endeavour to do the beft I can. You fay you have heard a mighty Talk of your Country, and of the Duty and Love which every Man owes it, efpecially thofe who are in any Poft of Trull: or Power. I am pleas'd witi; this Enquiry of yours, becaufe it feems to have fome [71 ] fbme Concern agreeable to the Sentiments of a Patriot. Yes, Sir, it is mofl certain, that there is a Duty and Love due to your Country, that is, to the political Society of which you are a Member. 'Tis true, in thefe modern Times, this is what is very little known, and much lefs thought on ; every one now views the Publick as a Property, a Dupe of which he is to make the mofl he can, without regard to the In- tereft, or, even. Safety of the Publick ; not but that we frequently hear a mighty Noife about the publick Good, and have loud Clamours againft the Male-adminiftracion of the Men in Power. But this is generally made by thofe who are out of Place, only to get in, that they may do worfe than even thofe who went before them ; and prove that the publick Intereft is the leaft thing in queftion -, and that all the Struggle is who fhall bubble the Nation. And this, in rea- lity, is the ground of all our political Qiiarrels : This is the true Rife of thofe raging Parties of Whig and Tory, which has brought fo long a Diflraftion upon us ,• and I may fay, that all the Alterations that have been made m the Perfons who have poflefs'd our Offices of Truft and Power, has only been to Ihift Hands, and not to get rid of the Evil : All this Noife and Buftle, I fay, is not to deliver us from being rid at all, but who (hall ride us, whether Afles or Foxes ; the AfVes feem the heavier Burthen ; and they fay that a Horfe tires fooner under an ill Rider than under a good one. There was another Spirit among the antient Greeks and Romans, they had another Notion of the Love of their Country ; it was a Point of .their Religion to ferve it without private Pro- F 4 fpefts: [7i] fpefts : Thus TuUy fays. Omnibus ^ui Patriam conferv aver rut, juzeritit, auxerintj certm eft in ccclo C^T definitm locm^ ubi fempiterno gaudio perfruuntUY beati; that is, 'There is in Heaven a certain and fi%d Place, ivhere all thofe icho have either preferv'd, helped or e'/ilarg d their Country, enjoy eternal Happi' nef>\ ThuS they made eternal Happinefs the Reward of being a good Patriot ; and, indeed, upon very good Grounds, upon fove reign Rea- fon y for fince humane Society is the evident In- ftitution of Heaven itfelf, ic feems a natural Confequence, that thofc who contribute mcft to the Good and Benefit of that, have the beft Claim to the Favour of Heaven ,• and as hu- mane Society in general is divided into feveral particular Societies, and that each particular has its proper Intereft to purfue, diftin6t trom that of the general, and incompatible with fe- veral of thofe which make up that General ; it neceflhrily follows, that the Duty of Particulars to Society is bounded by the Good of that Society, of which each is a Member, and without which particular Societies could not fublift. I remember that there is, in the Fragments of the divine Euripides, a Saying to this purpofe. That he luho praifes the Manners of another Country „ has in that betrafd his oivn : And this Saying is grounded on the very Nature of Tilings ; for we cannot praife the Manners of another Country, without thinking them better than thofe of our own ; and when we once give that Preference, we are cafily drawn in to efpoufe tlic Intereft of that Country againft our own, as of k'fs Value and Efleem in our own Opinions. Rut C 73 ] But to produce this Love of our Country, ic is neceflary that the Conftitution of this Coun- try, by being valuable, fliould deferve this Love :; that is, it fliould be calculated fo evi- dently for the Good and Happinefs of thofe who conftitute this Society, that not to defend it, would be to ad againft that Happinefs which ail Mankind defire. Humane Nature covets Liberty, and where that is eftablifli'd, it will be defended by every Member, as long as they think juftly. But Liberty, you'll fay, is a Word of a dubious Signification : What there- fore I mean by Liberty, is that the Society be govern'd by Laws, made by theConfent of eve- ry Particular, either in himfelf or in his Repre- fentative, and not by the arbitrary Will of any one Man, which never can have, or, at leaft, never had a due and jiift Regard to the Good and Happinefs of the People. It always has been in States conftituted in this Manner, where this Love I fpeak of has been eminent, and fo facred, that very few have ever dared to go againft it, tho' under never Co uneafy Circumftances and Sufferings from it. Thus when T'hemifiocles was banifli a Athens by Ojlracifm, for no other Crime than his Popula- rity, he fled into Perjia, and was receiv'd very favourably by the Great King, and the Revenue of three Cities allotted him for his Maintenance; and fo an Opportunity was ofter'd him of reven- ging his Difgrace upon his Country. For the Great King having a Mind once more to try the Power of Perjia againft the petty State of Atbem, which had hitherto ftill worfted his Armies; he declared Themi/iocks his General, under whofe Condud he did not doubt of better Succefs ; [74] Succefs ; but that brave Hero, unable to refurc the Command, rather chofe to poifon himfelf, than lead an Enemy againft his Country. This Love of our Country and Liberty was fo fettled and facred a Principle amongfl the Greciam, that they eftablifh'd publick Rewards for any Man that fliould kill a Tyrant : Thus we find in Lucian a Conteft betwixt two who pretended to this Reward, Among a thoufand Inftances of eminent Gre" ciansy whom Hiftory has lecorded as wonderful Patriots, I think there is fcarce one mor re- markable and touching than that of 'Timoleon. His Brother had ufurp'd the Sovereignty of Co- rinth ; 'Ttmvleon had a true Brotherly Love for him ; yet he not only endeavour'd to hinder him from this Ufurpation , but often per- fuaded him to reflore the Liberty of his Coun- try, to no purpofe : However, he gave this fignal Proof of his natural Kindnefs for his Brother, that he brought him off when over- powered by his Enemies in Battle, even with the Hazard of his own Life. But yet, as dear as his Brother was to him, the Liberty of his Country was much dearer; and therefore he beaded a Confpiracy to redeem its Freedom with the Lofs of his Brother's Life, he being in the Room while the reft difpatch'd him, and which was not forgiven him by his own Mother, and the reft of the Females of his Family, as long as he liv'd. He pafs'd twenty Years after this before he was taken notice of by the State ; but then Agents coming from Syracufa, to foli- cit the Corinthians to fend Forces into Sicily, to deliver them fi:om the Tyranny of Dicnyfimy they rais'd three Thoufand Men, and fenc 'Tmiokon [75] Timokon to command them. He arrives in Sicily and fets the Syracujians free ; and, to pre- vent any future Ufurpation, utterly deftroys the Citadel which commanded the City, and vras always the Seat of the Tyrant, and kept the City in awe. But the Benefits that Syracufa had received from him, and the general Love of the People for thofe Benefits, were not fuiEcient to fecure him from the malicious and envious Aflaults of two turbulent Fellows of that City, who abufing the Liberty he had given them, brought a publick Accufation againft him. The People of Syracufa were fo enrag'd at their Impu- dence, that they would have deftroy'd them, had nqtTimokoii himfelf interpos'd. No, Gentk' men, faid he, let them proceed in this legal Manner i for this have I fought, that no Man fiould be too great to be accus'd. I "will anfwer their Accufation; and if I clear not myfelf to the People of this City of the Crimes they lay to my Charge, let me undergo the Penalty of the Law. In fhort, he was heard, and came off with Applaufe. This fliows the Bene- fit of Liberty, where all Men are liable to the Law, and no one exempted from Juftice. There is another Inftance among the Romans^ where the Power of natural Afi-eftion was too weak to combat with the Love of the Country ; and that was in Lucim Junim Brutus, who, to fix the Liberty of Rome, put to death two of his own Sons, and feveral of his near Relations. I (hall not mention Virginius's ftabbing of his Daughter, by which he put an End to the Tyranny of the Decemviri-, fince that Aftion may feem to proceed from another Caufe, than the immediate Service of his Country, which was to fave his Daughter from being vitiated by i7^y i by j^ppius^ one of the Ten, who out of Luft^ had brought falfe Evidence to fwear that Virgmia was his Slave, and not the Daughter of l^ngi- nius. This, irAt^dy was the Caufe that the Romans threw oft' the Tyrannous Government of the Deiemviri, and reflor'd the Confuls. What Ihall I r.iy of Fabrkius, who refufed the Gold of Pyrrhus, becaufe he would not touch a Prefent from an Enemy, tho' nothing was required on his Part but to accept it ? Curtius facrificed himfelf for the Good of Romey where a great Chafm happening to open in the Earth, whence ifTued unwholfome Vapours, he JLimp'd into it alive to make it clofe again, as the Oracle had promised. It would be end- lefs to run over all the Inftances of this kind, that the Reman Hil^ory afl^brds us before the Cor- ruption of Rome, by the Conqnefts and Eftemi- nacy of AJia, I Ihall content myfelf only with that of Rcgulusy whofe Heroick Conftancy is prais'd by HoracCy in one of his Odes. The Fa ft was thus : Regulusy in the Carthaginian War, was taken Prifoner, and carry 'd to Carthage ; that State grew uneafy by the War with the Romans, and therefore f(;nt Reguhts to Rome on his Parole, to return again to Carthage, provided he could not prevail with the Roman People to make Peace : When he came to Rome, he was Co far from perfuading them to Peace, that he exhorted them to continue the War, fince the State of their Enemies Affairs was fo defperate, that they had no way of fecuring it, and putting a Stop to the Progrefs of the Roman Arms, but by a Peace. Having efiefted his Defire he re- turned to Carthage, contrary to the earneft Im- portunities of his Friends, and was there put to [77] to a very torturing Death, being inclosM in a Barrel driven full of Nails, or Iron Spikes, and fo roll'd down a Hill, which Cruelty the Romans afterwards fufficiently reveng'd, by the Deflruc- tion of their City. Thefe are enough to give you a Tafle of that Love of their Country which the Antients had, and which is fo different from our general No- tion of Things at this time a day , that it founds like Romance. To attempt any thing for the Service of your Country, tho' in the Dis- covery of the moft flagrant Corruptions of any OfEces, is caird a Don Qtiixotifm, and laugh'd at as ridiculous ; and it is certain, no one ever yet endeavour'd to difcover the Abufes of the J/iBualling Office, Navy Office, Cuflom Houfe, and the reft, but met with Ruin for his Reward. However, let me recommend to you this old antiquated Virtue, the Love of your Country ; let not your Hand be imbrued in its Blood j nor do you joyn to haftcn that Ruin which feems to come with too great a Speed without you. Thus I have given you an extempore Anfwer to the Queftion you proposed ; if I have hit your Meaning, I am fatisfy'd \ if not, upon bet- ter Inftruftions, I fhall endeavour to amend my Defects, who am. Dear Sir, Tour faithful humble Servant, \/iLL Antique. [78] POSTSCRIPT. 1 have a Word or two to add by way of Poflfcript. It is a melancholy Conlideration, to refleft at how low an Ebb a Pnblick Spirit is at this Time, when every one is wholly em- ployed in the purfuit of fome private End, moft commonly very oppofire to the Publick Good. But yet I believe we have no more Caufe to be Melancholy than the reft of our Neighbours, and all Times fince the Lofs of the Roinan Li- berty. It muft be confefs'd, for indeed it can- not be deny'd, that all thofe noble Examples hinted at in my Letter, were only to be found in Commonwealths, they fpringing naturally from that fort of Government ; and the Reafon feems pretty plain, allowing that the beft A(5lions fpring from Self-Intereft or Self-Love, rightly underftood. The Members of a Common- wealth have no way to drive on their own par- ticular Intereft, no Way to arrive at Power, but by their Court to the People ; nor have they any way of making that Court, but by great and popular Adions, from whence the Good of the Publick muft necedarily follow : But in all Mo- narchies, the Difpenfation of Power and Wealth is in the Prince J and therefore thofe who aim at either, have nothing more to confider, than how to gain his Favour i ;ind that is moft ge- nerally obtained, not by Virtue and Aftions be- neficial to the Publick, but by a fine Addrefs in Flattering his Vices, and being fome way or other ufeful to them. This has produc'd a Maxim in Religionj quite contrary to that quoted [79] quoted from Ckeroj which is to make the Will of a Prince a Sovereign Principle in Religion it- felf, a Doftrine that naturally deftroys all Thoughts and Aims at any Thing Great and Glorious. And yet it is not all Commonwealths that produce thefe Wonders: Vemce may be call'd a Commonwealth, becaufe an Ariflocracy ; but I cannot remember any extraordinary Hero's that City has given the World. No, it is only thofe Commonwealths that have a pretty large Mixture of a Democracy in them, as thofe of Greece and Rome j and as a Confirmation of this Opinion, we may obferve, that neither Greece nor Rome ever produced one Man truly great, a pcrfed Lover of his Country, after the Lois of their Liberties. i^^ [Ho] DESCRIPTION O F NEW ATHENS I N Terra Auflralis incognita. By one who refided many Years up- on the Spot. To]- LETTER I. Sihl convenientia finge. - H — E[qi at his Houfe near Holborn, London. Dear Sir, N my former I gave you an Account of our Ship's beinp caft away on the Southern Coaft, without the Lofs of any one Man, or much of its Cargo ; I let you know the Hardlhips we underwent in an [8i ] an uninhabited Country, and how, endeavouring to make Difcoveries in our Long Boat, we fel! into the Hands of a very hofpitable People. I gave you alfo an Account of the feveral Cities, the Manners and Cuiloms, through which we pafs'd, and which were nor very different h'om our own ; the People being aduated by the ilime Paffions of Avarice, Envy and Malice, which are fo common in Europe, divided by the fame Fadions and Parties, both in Politicks and Re- ligion ; and this, till we arriv'd at the Foot of vail unpaflable Mountains, which Nature feems to have made as the Barrier betwixt thefe wretched People, and thofe happy Men who in- habit the other Side of it. You mufl obferve, that all thofe on this Side the Mountain were originally Exiles banifli'd from the other Side for Crimes which would not be fuffei'd among them , fuch as Avarice, Ingratitude, unchrifiiaii Dealing, Luft, and the hke ; and they are ftill the Receptacle of all thofe who are punifh'd for fuch Oifences on the other Side the Mountain, and liave Governors in every City fent from them. This was the Subllance of my laft Let- ter. Being come to the Foot of thefe Moun- tains, which run from North-Eaft to South- Weft, near fifteen hundred Miles, we were ordered to get ready to pafs them ; which we did in this very ftrauge Manner : The Place of our Paflage v/as almoft a perpendicular Precipice ; we entered into a fort of a Room or great Coach, which held about fourteen. There when we were feat- ed, with fuch things as were neceflary for us in our Paflage, and the little Baggage that each of us had brought with us, we were drawn up by Puilies about threefcore Yards to the firft land- G ' ing [8z] ing Place, which was done by a hollow Wheel, Slaves turning it by walking in it like Tum- Ipits at Bnjlol. Being come to the firft landing Place, our Machine was immediately thrufl for- ward into another Pully, and we drawn three- fcore Yards higher to the next landing Place, and To on, till we came near the Summit of the Mountain ,• when we left our Machine, and came into a very lar^e fair Plain, from whence we furve)''d a moll- delicious Country, diverfi- fy'd with eafy Hills, pleafiint Vallies, winding Rivers, fmall Seas, Iflands, Towns, Cities and Villages. Two, among the reft, were evidently remaikable for their Largcneis ; one feem'd to Hand in the Sea, which, I was told, was called Athens ; the other upon the Continent, much larger than the former, upon a very fine River at a little Dift ance from the Sea ,• and this was called Rcmana^ the Imperial City or Capital of all this Place that we faw j and was full of Ihining Domes and Spires, which alraoft dazled our Eyes at that Diflance. About this pleafant Plain, upon the Mountain, were fcatter'd feveral Houfcs oi: Entertainment, fit to receive, with all Manner of Convenience, fuch Paflengers as were permitted to come that Way : In the midft was a fpacious Mall, or Court of Judicature, where proper Judges wer'e aflign*d to examine every particular Perfon. But before we came to our Examination, we were ordered to refrefh ourfelves, and wait the Arrival of the reft of our Ship's Crew, who were all brought up by the next Return of the Machine ; and who ha- ving likewife refrcfli'd thtmlelves, we were all brought into the Hall, and each Man's Baggage fet by him, wliich, gis well as ourfelves, were examined. [8.?] examin'd. Mine confiPicd chiefly of Books, par-- ticularly Poets, fuch as B^n Joh^ifoUj Shakefyear^ Beaumont and Fletcher^ Milton^ and many of the Ciafficks, both Greek and Latin. I thought 1 dif- coverM a particular Satisfaction in ii.c J:idge at what he faw ; aid calling me to iiim, he told me, tliat he was pleas'd that Fortune had ^wtVi him an Opportunity of obliging the curious A- thenians, by fending them a Perfon that feem'd fo agreeable to their Inclinations, and to oblige me by allotting me an Abode in the moll: Learned and Polite City in the World : For tiio' he did not underftand great Part of my Books, they being \n a ftrange Language ; yet by thofe that he faw in Greek and Lntin^ he concluded nie worthy of the Favour he deiign'd me. This Speech he made to me in tolerable Latin, tho' often mix'd with W^ci^ds that nothing but the Senfe of what he faid, could make me under- ftand. The Examination of the reft of our Crew took up fomc time, and I was fain to play the Interpreter with that little Latin I had, to expedite their Difparch ; but this being at laft all over, tliere came in an Officer, who mark'd every one of us in the Face with a .moft lovely and beautiful Flower, which was fo far from being a Mark of Infamy, tliat it was our Security and Honour ; for by that every one was obliged, wherever we cjme, ro receive and life us with Refped and Hofpitality : But ano- ther Ufe of this Mark was to hmder us from ever going out of their Country, left by the Di^- covery we had made, we fhouid bring others to invade it. All the Governors therefore of the Frontiers had exprclsOrdcrs to I'-i: no one pafs who had that Mark, which was n>ade with fo G 2 fubde [84] fiibtle a Juice, that no Pains or VVafh cou'd ever remove it. Now the Time was come when we were to be feparated, and every one fent to fuch Town or City as the Judge thought was proper for his inclinations and Capacity. Of all our Crew, I had but one that was permitted to go with me to Athens, and he was an extraordinary Mathe- matician, and very expert in making Draughts ncceflary for the forming of Maps. We were sllcw'd Tome time for our taking Leave of each other ; which Ceremony being over, I and my Companion being placed with one of the Coun- try, in a little Ccach, or fort of Chaife, fet for- ward in the following Manner. The Declivity of\he Mountain, on the other Side, is not near To ftcep as that by which we came into the Plain, and yet it is more fteep than any Kill I ever pafs'd in m.y Life ; tho' I have gone down the Alps into Piedmont. The' this Paflage be very fwift, yet it is likewife ve- ry fecure ; the Road is no broader than jufl: to contain the Vehicle into which you are put ; which being plac'd in two Groofs, runs down with great Rapidity to the Foot of the Hill. Pa- rallel to this Road there is another, by which People afcend to the Plain ; for they never afcend and defcend by the fame Road, and therefore are never in Danger of falling foul upon one another. Being come down the Hill, at an Inn at the Foot of it, we were furnifli'd with another Cha- riot that brought us in a few Hours to a pret- ty Sea-port, where having refrefh'd ourfelvesfoc three or fourDavs, we took Shipping and fail'd diredly to Athens, and the Wind being fair, we arriv'd there in about eleven or twelve Hours. This [85] This City ftands upon a rmall Peninfula^ the broadeft Part of which is not above fourlvliks over; and it isconliderably rais'd above the Sea, and fortify "d by Nature with a Ridge of little Hills from the very Continent to the End of the Peninfula, which is near four and twenty Miles. Thefe little Hills have, by an incredible Appli- cation and Labour, for ten Miles together, been work'd into a fort of a Wail, broad enough for three or four Coaches to go on a-breaft, and all planted with Rows of fhady Trees, which fup- ply the Citizens with a D^fer.ce, as well as the mofl agreeable Prominade in the World. The City is about eight Miles long, and near four over, and is divided into four Parts by four Canals, which pafs from the Sea through it, to the little Creek of the Sea that divides the Fcd- infula from the Contiiient for above tv/enry Miles, and is about a Mile and naif over, and makes a moft commodious and faie Harbour for all their Shipping. Every one of thefe Canals is about hfiy Yards in Breadth, and fo far from the Surface of the Streets, that the Sides are fill'd with convenient and capacious Store-houfes, where all the Goods and Merchandize brought in by the Shipping, are placed without incumbering the Streets with heavy Carriages ; and hence they are brougiic up by Cranes, and difj^ers'd as Occalion re- quires. Over thefe Canals there are fevcral Brid- ges, all of one Arch, tho' fo very wide, that the Ridho of Venice is but a Bauble to them. The Town is built of a curious white Stone, and with perfect Regularity ; the Streets being in an exad Line from one End of the City to the o- G 3 thcr. tlier. In the Center of the City {lands a moft nobk R.to.uh, which may be call'd its Cathedral, cr Epif^jop:-;] Chiirch, bciides which, there are ten ma-i^iiificiii': Ch'irches in each Divilion of the C\zy, which makes the whole Number one and for:y : Each of thcfe Churches Rands in the middle of a Square, and has a Coridore fupport- ed by fine IMlars, in which the Congregation take a Walk, and pafs tlirough tljem to the Church. All the great Streets are hllM with the magnificent Houfcs of the principal Citizens, the CcL'eges and Schools of the Students, and Halis or' Judicature ; all the Shops and Places of Trade are in the Idler Streets; but thofe leifer Streets are of a greater \Vidth than CheapfJe. CJne thing is remarkable, That there is no Trade that is cfrmfive to the Nofe, the Eyes or Ears, that is, permitted to be inrheCity itfelf: Thus Batchers, Poulterers, Smiulis, \Vafher-women, and the like, are confin'd to little Suburbs di- vided from the City by a fmall Canal, whcfs Streets are every Morning wafh'd by Waters from certain Engines, which throw a Stream through every Street, that carries off all the Filth that fiich Trades produce. There is no- thing finer than the High-Street, which, for eight Miles together, leads you up to the Roy- al Palace, a mod magnificent Pile, and worthy fo Noble a City. The Gardens and Walks be- longing to this Palace, are contriv'd t)Oth for Plcafure and Ufe ; for at the fame time that the RivLT, which runs horn the Continent over the Neck of Land that joins the Peniufula to it, is divided into an hundred Channels to fupply the Water-works; it is thence convey 'd into the City, [S7] ■City, to ftirnifli fuefli Watei" to all tlic Inhabi- tants. The Palace is not only for the Rcfidcnce of the King, but the Reception of the Areopa- gHi, or Chief Council of the Nation, and to lodge all fuch Ambailadors as come from Friends; thole who come from the barbarous Nations m the mofl Southerly Parts of that Traft of Land, are never permitted to \iq in the City, but rather forc'd to remain aboard their own Ships, or to be a fort of Pnfoners, during their Negotiations, in the Citadel, which Hands upon the IJih- mus. Thus I have given you a fliort Defcription of the City of Ne-.u Athens ii(d'{, which,> tlio' won- derful in all its Parts, is far lefs valuable for its Strudure, than for the Excellence of its Inhabi- tants ; of which I (hail treat in the following Part of my Letter, having firlt informed you of my Reception at my Arrival. Vv e were no Jooner landed, but we were con- duced to the Hofpital of Strangers, a Pile of Building equally admirable for its Magnificence and Convenience. There are no Inns in this City for the Reception of Strangers, they are always the Care of the Publick, and are provi- ded all Neceilaries and Conveniencies by Offi- cers, who are anfwerable for any Indignity or Abufe to any Stranger, either in his Lodging cr Diet, which are fupplied by the Government at the mofl eafy Rate ,• but then no one is permit- ted to ftay in this Hofpital longer than a Fort- night : So that if their Bufincfs require a longer time, they provide themfelves with Lodgings in the Houfes of fome of their Friends or Ac- quaintance. To this Place my Friend and I were conduftcd, with all our Baggage, where G 4 we [88] ve remain'd till the King had receiv'd the Let- ters Tent with us, and ordered fuch to attend iis as he thought mofl: fit and capable of giving him a full Account of our Merits and Abilities. Eve- ry Morning we were invited to go to Church, and offer up our Prayers after our own Way ; fcr that is a Duty which no one of this City of what Degree, Age or Station foever, is permit- ted to negled, unlcfs liinder'd by Sicknefs. The firfl: Bufinefs that we were fet about, was to learn their Language ,• to the obtaining a Maf'cry in which, my little Skill in the Greek was no fraall Help ; for tho' their Tongue be very much alter'd from the ancient Greek, yet it retains not only the Character, but many of the Radical Words of the Attick Dialeft. The Care of my Inftruftor, with my own Diligence and Application, m.-'.de me fuch a Proiicient, that I could, in two Months time, talk it almoll: as well as a Native,- and in two Months more, was able to tranflate any thing out of Englijh into it. But I have forgot to tell you, that as foon as I had Inftruftors ordered me by the King, I was remov'd from the Hofpital of the Strangers, into a very pleafant Apartment in the College of the MufeSy where I enjoy'd all things that were any ways neceflary to make my Life eafy and pleafant ; and as I grew a greater Maf- ter of their Language, my Pleafure was heigh- ten'd by the Converfation of the molt Polite, as well as the mofl Humane of all Mankind ; and which confirmed me in a Mallery of their Tongue fooner than I could elfe have accom- plilhVi it : They omitted no Means of rendring their Inftrudions agreeable, as well as ufeful, ^yatching my Liclinations and Humour with thai- Care [89] Care and Nicety, that they would be fure never to make my Lellons tedious or burthenfome. But now I was to give fome Proof ot my Study, by tranflating (bme of our EngUJh Poets into^ their Language : 1 chofe the Samjon Agomflea of Milton to begin with, as finding his VVay of Writing in that, more like their Tragedies than any other of our Englijh Poets. They were fo pleas'd with this Performance, that it wasfliew'd to the King, who was a Prince of an admirable Genius himfelf, and ordered me, upon it, to be admitted into the Number of the Athenian Poets, with a handfome Peniion for my Maintenance ; and Diredions were given for the tranfcribing and acting tlie Tragedy of Samfon Agonijles, as foon as the Chorus's could be fet to Mufick, the Adors taught, and the Copy publifli'd ; for it is a Cuftom here, that no Play is to be afted, till it is pubiiHiM, and in every body's Hand ; that •having perus'd it with S-^datenefs and Judgment in their Cbfets, tliey fliould not be bribM by the Beauty of Reprefentatior, to give an erro- neous Judgment of the Poet's Performance -, but I found by the Tcdioufncfs of the Publication, that how ingenious foever they were, they knew nothing of tne Art of Printing. I perfuaded my felf 1 could not oblige them more, than by gi- ving them what Iniight I could into this Inven- tion : Nor was I miftaken, for they heard me with Rapture ; and having acquainted the King with it, I was ordered to difcourfe the Matter at an Aflembly of the Vivtucfi, where the King himfelf prelided. In order to make my Difcourfe the clearer, I got feveral Letters made atter my own Model, and a Compofing-Stick according to my Directions, and with their Help, made the Matter [90] Matter fo plain, that the King ordered me to iit down at the Board, and, with his own Hands, plac'd on my Head a Wreath of Golden Laurel, with this Atlurance, That I fhoiiid always have his Protection. 'Tis an amazing thing to think with how much Speed they arriv'd at a Perfedion in it ; for tiiey now print with much more Correftnefs and Delicacy than any Part g( Europe. I was not alone in the Favours I received from the Neiv Atlmiiam^ my Comrade had his Share; he was a Man of admirable Parts, tho' he had found but little Encouragement in England ; he v/as a very good Mathematician^ and had a great Genius for Building of Ships, and was accord- ingly received by the Intendant of the Marines, and had his Apartment allotted him in the Col- lege of the Admiralty. The Naval Force of thefe Countries conlifls in a fort of low-built- Gallies and Galliots ; for, knowing nothing of the Ufe of Guns, thofe were thought fufficient to cope with the barbarous Nations, who liv'd near the Southern Pole, and with whom only they ever had any Wars. My Comrade firil: made them a Model of one of our Men of War, with which they were fo well pleafed, that they ordered feveral to be built according to it. In the mean time my Comrade, to make his Service the more compleat, difcourfi^d with them about the Ufe of Guns and Gunpozvder ; but it being a difficult Matter to malve them apprehend what he meant, without an Exp^^rimcnt, the Materials for the Compoiition of Gunpowder being pretty plenti- -fiil in that Country, and he being perfedly well skiil'd ill the making of it, it was not long e'er he [91 ] he had a fufficient Quantity to £how them the wonderful Force of it. They were the more pleas'd with this Invention, becaufe there hap- pened then to be a Difcourfe of a new Invafion from the barbarous Natives, who are a hardy martial People, and delight in War. By that time the Ships were built, my Com- rade had got a pretty Qiianticy of Gunpowder, and great Guns enough to equip his new Arma- da, and like wife to plant feveral upon the Walls of the City, on that iide which was next to the Sea. But the King, that he might not give any Umbrage to the great Emperor of Romana, dif- parch'd AmbafTadors to him to let him know the wonderful Difcoveries this Stranger had made, with Alllirances of fending him to him, when- ever he fhould command, that he might not want thofi^ Advantages againfl the common Enemy, which feem'd of that Importance to the publick Safety. But before any Anfwer could come to this Embally, the Barbarians, without ever declaring any War, had hll'd thofeSeas with their Ships, which made up, by their Number, that Terror, whicli their Bulk could rot give j they were about three hundred Sai!, and made directly for Nev: Athens, to the great Terror of that City. But my Comrade, in the midft of this ConPccr- nation, undertook to fight and difperfe all this Barbarian Armada with only the Ships that he had built, and five Hulks of old Veliels, of which, he had made Fire-fhips, a thing unknown in that Country before. 1 think the Number of our Fleer, befides the Fire-fliips, was but feven, the biggefl: of which came not up to our Third Rates : With thefe my Comrade fail'd out of the [9^] . the Port, and went to meet the Enemy, who being fliifh'd with the Succefs of their fudden Irruption, came up with us, and foon furround- ed our little Fleet, but were fomething fur- priz'd at the Largenefs of their Make. We foon fet our Firefhips among them, which they fur- rounded and grappled with great Expedition, fo far, that they could not difengage themfelves, when they found them all on Fire, which put them into a very great Confufion ; and this was very much encreas'd when we began to give them Broad-fides, which foon put 'em to flight, thinking that the Gods themfelves were come down in Thunder to punifh their Treachery. In {hort, we took, funk and difpers'd the whole Fleet, fcarce twenty of which got home to their own Country, to the no fmall Satif- faftion of our Athenian Mafters, who were too generous and grateful, not to give a Reward to the Conqueror equal to his Merits : He was immediately made free of that Nation, had a publick Triumph, and was prefcnted with Roy- al Gifts, being admitted to the King's own Table, who immediately ordered him to pre- pare to go with the greater Part of his new Fleet to Romanaj and fent Deputies with him to prefent him to the Emperor, and give an Account of all that had pafs'd, and the great Deliverance the whole Chrifh'an Common- wealth in thofe Parts had receiv'd from him. It is out of my way to give an Account of the noble Reception he met with, and the Ho- nours that were paid him on his Arrival at Romana j it is fuiHcient to let you know that he was treated like a Sovereign Prince, and a par- ticular Inilrument fent by Heaven to check the Infolence [93] Infolence of the Barbarians, who by their fre- quent Irruptions difturbM that Tranquility which all thofe Nations otherwife enjoyed ; for you muft underftand, that all the Countries for above fifteen hundred Miles every way are Chriftians, and tho' confifting of feveral Go- vernments, they all hold it an unpardonable Crime for one Chriftian State to make War with another ; to avoid which, there is a gene- ral Council compos'd of Deputies from the fe- veral Nations, who hear and amicably decide all Difputes that may arife betwixt Nation and Nation. This Overthrow of the Barbarians gave long Peace to this Country, during which my Comrade furnilli'd Romana and all its Depen- dencies with Arms according to the Manner of Europe, and liv'd in great Splendour and Repu- tation, in which I fhall leave him, to return to my Account of Athens. I told you of my Tranflation of Milton s Sam- fon Agnwftes, which being now ready to be ac- ted, it was performed at four Theatres in one Day; for you muft know, every Quarter of Athens *h2LS a Theatre for the Reprefentation of Tragedies, in which, fome Tragedy or other is perform'd every Night ,• beiides which there is a fifth Theatre in the Royal Palace, which is only made ufe of for the Entertainment of Fo- reign Princes when they come to that City, as they do once a Year from all Parts of that Con- tinent, of which Number, the Emperor of Ro- mana is always one. To defcribe them all would be fuperiluous, I Ihall only make a fhort De- fcription of that in the Royal Palace, after the Model of which the reft are built : The Stage is one hundred Foot broad, the Place of the Au- dience [ 94 ] diencc is a Segment of a Circle of above two hundred Foot Diameter; it is divided into what we call a Pit and Boxes, with only one Gallery over ; but the Boxes are divided in the Middle from each other by a fort of Throne or Royal Seat, where the King and Regal Family fit to behold a Tragedy. This Throne flretches out about a dozen Foot into the Pit, and is fup- ported on each Side by rich and coftly Pillars, cither of Silver or Gold, or of precious Scone, much more beautiful than Porphyry ; over the Canopy are feveral Figures of Angels, two of which fupport an Imperial Crown, all whofe precious Stones are compos'd of Lights which illuminate the Place ; two larger Angels, who ftand more forward to the Pit, fupport a fort of a Sun, whence iifue illuftrious Beams that en- lighten the whole Theatre, without any Sconces as we have, and by Confequence Vvdthout all that filthy Smoak which our Candles make. This Sun throws his Beams upwards and down- wards as well as direftly forward, by which you difcover the Beauty of the Cieling, which is a fine Cupola, formed by a Mafter in the Art of Perfpeftivc ; for tho' the Ceiling be flat, and defcends towards the Stage for the conve- nience of fpreading the Sound, yet you would imagine it a lofry Dome. Befides thefe Illumi- nations, there come others from two fide Pil- lars upon the Stage, which make the Place of Adion very bright and glorious. The Stage here differs from ours, it being broad and fiiallow, the Depth being made out, when Occafion re- quires it, by admirable Paintings in Perfpedive; and indeed the Painting of the Scenes is fo ad- mirable, that I dare believe a London Audience, as [95] as whlmfical as it is in that Pa,rticiilar, would not want that ridiculous VarJe^'y which they now poflbfs by the Change of Scenes, io. .'.i:y never change here any more than they did in old Athens, where fuch vafl Expence was made ufe of for the Adornment of the Stage, with- out any fuch fhifting of Scenes, as is now in ufe in England. This is a fhort and imperfed Account of the principal Theatre m New Athens : The other Theatres are equally large, and bear fome Proportion to the Beauty and Richnefs. One thing I had forgot, and that is, an Account of the Seats of the Audience, which are not Ben- ches as in our Theatres, but diftinft Seats, by which Means, tho' they are plac'd in a fort of a Semicircle, every one of the Audience fets with his Face to the Stage, and fo participates equal- ly both in the Sight and the Hearing. This is enough as to the Place of Reprefentation ; but as to the Perfons who make this Reprefentation, they are likewife very different from what we have amonr^ us. There is none admitted to be an Adcr or Adrefs from cut of the Dregs of the People, nor who have the Icaft Stain upon their Reputation ; and as they are fupposM to be born of Parents of Credit, fo they muft be more than commonly Educated, tho' the com- mon Education here would pais for extraordi- nary elfev/here. The Men, befides their Learn- ing in Kiflory and Poerry, are all taught Paint- ing or Dcligning, by which they learn not only graceful Poftures for themfelves, and fuch as are agreeable to the very Paffions, but alfo how to difpofe their Supernumeraries or Mute Perfons into fuch Groupcs, as may render them agree- able, if no: beautiful to the Audience. To this pur- [9^] purpofe like wife they are not a Company of Ragamuffins, Old, Young, Tall and Short, Awkward and Clumfey, and Ill-drcft as with us; but all proper young handfome Fellows, about fix Foot high, and well Dreft, as well as perfed in Dancing and a graceful Motion, by which the whole Reprefentation becomes So- lemn and Touching. The Women are likewife taught Hiftory and Poetry, and perfeftly in- flrufted in the Aftion and Geflure, Figure and Motion, proper to every Charafter and Paflion ; both the Men and the Women are extrcamly careful of obferving tlie Decorum of the Re- prefentation, a Neglect in which is here unpar- donable, and locked upon as an infufferable In- folence ofte-r'd to the Audience. With fuch Ac- tors, and on fuch a Stage, I was infinitely pleas'd. to fee old Alilton perform'd j the Chorus s were compos'd with wonderful Art, the Muii- cal Notes being pcrfedly adapted to exprefs the Words with the greatell Harmony ,• and they feem indeed to have retained that Genius for Mufick of which we hear fuch Wonders in the Authors of Antiquity. I cannot fay, that Sam- fon Agonijles was a Tragedy equal to many of their own, and yet thro'' the Humanity of the People it w,?,s received with the highell: Ap- plaufe. This having pleas'd 'em fo wclJ, I was importunM to giv^e them fome more of the Pro- duds of our Nation ; but I, who perceiv'd their admirable Tafle, would fain have been excus'd. from a Task whence I cxpeded fo little Applaufe. However, having Oni-ays Orphan^ and Venice Prefervd, I tranllatcd them, but met not with that Satisfaction which I Batter'd myfclf they would give my Performance: But at the fame time C 97 3 time that tjiey acknowkdg'd the Poet's Maftery in the Draught of the Paffions, efpccially that of Pity, they aflurM me that his Breach of the Unity of Place had render^ their Stage in- capable of reprefenting them. I thought it was in vain after this, to pre- tend to give them any thing of Beaumont and Fletcher, or even of Shakefpear himfelf. Howeverjs I informed HermogeneSi one of the Society of Poets, of the Method followed by Shake/pear in all his Plays ; and to give him the greater In- fluence, I tranflated many of his Topch into their Language, which pleas'd them infinitely ; but I told him that this Poet was entirely igno- rant of the Rules of the Drama, and therefore that all his Plays were but fo many Pieces of Hiftory, which by confequence could have no Moraly and were of little \](^ or Importance. Notwithftanding there are four Theatres in. this City, there were no Comedies acted in any of them, upon which I gave them a Verfion of the Alchymifi of Ben yohnfon, expreffing my Wonder at their Negled of that Poem, which yet had its Rife as well as Tragedy in ancient Greece. 'Tis true, faid Hermogenes, that Greece gave beginning to Comedy as well as Tragedy -, but the former was never fo much encourag^'d by the wife State of Old Athens^ as the latter. Comedy, indeed, was born in the Villages amongft the meaneft fort of People, and always retain'd fomething of the Licentioufnefs and Rufticity of its Original, and was even in thofe Days look'd on, as a lower and lefs valuable Entertainment, as being more adapted to the Giito of the Vulgar, whofe Lives, Converfa- tions and Adventures were the general Subject H of [98] of that Poem. The old Comedy^ was but H fort of public!: Lampoon, which was made ufe of to fet the very Mob againft fome of the moft eminent Citizens. There is an Exam- ple of tills in the Fate of the Divine Socrates, the Cry againfl whom was firit fet on foot by Ariflophanes^ the moft eminent of all the old Co- mick Poets, whofe Licentioufncfs at laft grew to that height, that the Government was fain to fupprefs the Chorus, in which the greateft part of the Abufe was generally contained. Af- ter this arofe the new Comedy, in which the Names of the Dramatick Perfons were not real, as in the former, but fiftitious ; and the Sub- )Q6t generally fome Adventure of an old Cove- tous Father, his Son, and fome Whore, with the Humours of Davus, Chremes, or fome other impertinent Servant, who generally managM the old Gentleman for the Advantage of the Son and his Miftrefs : Menander was the great Maf- ter of this new Comedy, and he was followed among the Roinans by Terenc?, who, like all other Copiers, fell very much fhort of his Ori- ginal. As for this Author of your Countr)"^ whofe Akhyiwji you have given us, he feems much more excellent than either I'erence or Menander ; and yet u'ith all his Excellence, I am very well allur'd he would not be receiv'd in this Country, for the following Reafons : Firft, becaufe the Ridicule^ which is efl'ential to this Poem, is what we have the utmoft Averlion to, fince it is the Nature of that to divert us from thinking fe- rioufly of Things ; and is^ by confequence, a great Enemy to Reafon and juft Thinking. In the next Place, I thank Heaven we have none of L99 1 of thofe VicQs and Follies among us, which re- quire this 'fort of Remedy. Beyond the Moun- tains, indeed, where the irregular Appetites of Mankind prevail too much, Comedy may be of fbme ufe, and is therefore allowed on ,* while Tragedy is neither defir^d by them, nor per- mitted to them: It is the jfiiner Spirits only with which this Country is generally bieli, that can raife their Souls to fo fublime and rational a Pleafure as that of Tragedy, and which I am apt to believe we have in the moll: perfect State of any Nation in the World. Thefe Reafons were fufficient to fatisfy me, that Comedy was a Province not to be attemp- ted in this Place. One Day Hermo^enes ask'd me if I had no more Poems of that Author who had written the Samfon Agoniftes. I reply 'd, that I had an ex- cellent one caird Paradife Lcfiy which was in great efteem in our Country, notwichllanding its general ill Tafte of good Poetry : I run over the feveral Arguments of the Books to him ex- tempore, which pleas'd him fo well, that he got the King's Order for my applying myfelf wholly to tranflate it into their Tongue^ and which I had but juft finifh'd before! loft the Happinefs of thofe fortunate Regions, by an Accident which I fhall tell you before I clofe this Account. Before I difmifs this Point of Poetry, I mufi; tell you the Method of their accepting or re- jeding any Dramatical Piece: The Players, as learned and judicious as they are, have no hand in the determining the Merit of any Tra- gedy, or whether it fhall have the Beneht of a publick Reprefentation or not ; that is decided H 2 by [ 100 ] by the Body of Criticks and Poets, who have their principal Refidence in the College of the Mufes ; and that no Favour or Afledion, or any Prejudice to the Author may influence them in their Judgment, no Author is to be knovt'n till after the Performance of his Piece, under this Penalty, that it fhall not be afted if the Author be not kept entirely fccret ; for tho* the Judges are Men of eminent Candor, as well as Learning and great Genius, yet to remove all poffible Prejudice to Merit, this Caution is in- violably obfervM ; and that the Judges may not be teazM with Plays of little Value, every Au- thor is obliged to fend in firft a Plan of his Fable, which if approved, publick Notice is given that he may fend in the Tragedy itfelf: And then if the Performance, in the Alanners, Sentmem and DiBion, be any ways anfwerable to the Excel- lence of the FaUey the Play is afted without any more trouble to the Author, without any flavifh Solicitation of either the Players or Parties. Whereas in England there is nothing lefs con- fider'd than the Merits of the Piece, if the Au- thor can make an Intercft with the Players, and fome leading Men of the Town ; that is gene- rally enough to furnifli him with the Succefs he deiires, let his Piece be never fo indifferent in itfelf. The fame Method is obferv'd in Neiu Athens, in regard of all other Poems i for the Author is never known till the Fate of what he has written is decided ,• by which means the Thing, and not the Name, prevails in the publick Ap- plaufe. I have mentioned the College of the Mufes: It is a large and noble Pile of Building, and its Apart- [lOI ] Apartments extreamly pleafant and convenient ; every Member has, at leaft, four Rooms, and a pretty little private Garden j for the College ftanding jufl by the Walls, the Members for larger Walks afcend the Ramparts, which I have told you are fet with Rows of fhady Trees. In the College there is a publick Hall, in which the Members are oblig'd to dine to- gether, at leall, twice a Week ; where, after Dinner, which is generally about two a Qock, they fpend two or three Hours in learned DK- courfe, held up by the Benefit of a Bottle of the fineft Wine in the World. Befides the Hall, there is likewife a very pretty Chappel, where Prayers are perform 'd every Morning and Eve- ning. And thus much for the Poetical Part of New Athens. There are, befides this College of the Mufes, feveral others of a very magnificent Strufture, efpecially that of the Nobles, where not only the Nobility of all this Country are educated, but all fuch of Quality who come from the other P..rts to Stud^ at Athens, the Number of which is very great. Bwlides all the Colleges, which are too nu- merous for me to mention, there are in every Parifti publick Schools, in which the Children of evfery Parifhioner are oblig'd, till fifteen Years of Age, to be inftructed in all manner cf Literature, of which their Age is capable ^ nor are their Infiruftors fuch wretched ignorant Fellows, as teach in your Chanty-Schools at London^ but Men of Probity as well as Lear- ning, who are capable of teaching their Pupils what they ought to learn, both in the Duties of Religion and that of the State ; tho' m this H 3 Country, [ 102 ] Country, indeed, they are very nearly related, fince all the moral Do(5trines of the New Tefta- ment are incorporated into the municipal Laws, which brings me to a fhort Confideration of the Religion of thefe People. They are here all Chriflians, and may be truly fo caird, (ince, as I have obfervM, the Precepts of the Gofpel are the Laws of the Land, and a Breach of them is punifh'd by the Civil Magiflrate : Thus, if a Man be found guilty of a Breach of the Precept of doing as you would be done by, he is certainly fin'd or imprifon'd ; or, upon a frequent Tranfgreflion that way, banifli'd beyond the Mountains, which is lookM upon to be the greateft PuniCi- ment that can be infli(5ted upon them. The Scripture is in the vulgar Tongue, and read by every one ; and yet there is no Difpute about Opinions in Faith, which is avoided chiefly by this Maxim ; that no Word or Term be admit- ted that is not exprefly found in the Gofpel it- felf : Thus, tho' there are feveral who believe the Subllance and Matter of the Trinity, yet the Word, as being the Lwention of Man, is not fuffer'd to be made ufe of, but every Man left to his own Judgment, to believe or not be- lieve all manner of Speculations, which have or may be drawn from any ExpreiTions in tlie New Tertament ; fo that thefe great Grounds of Qiiarrel, Diflention and Animofity, which rage fo much in other Parts of the Chriftian Worlds and turn the Gofpel of Peace and Love into Confufion and Hatred, arc here utterly unknown; for they believe that the principal Bufinefs of the Gofpel is to regulate, improve, and perfed our Morals, to render us active in the Duties of Brotherly [ m ] , Brotherly Love, and the Love of the fupreme jBeing : And this, they fay, is the ChriPcian Religion ,• for they iind, when our Saviour comes to Judgment, he does not condemn or reward any Man for his fpeculative Opinions, tho' never fo pompous and magnificent towards himfelf ,• but for their not doing or doing the Duties of Charity to one another : And this is fo fixt in them, that if any Qiiarrel happen be- tween two Perfons, which is very feldom, one does not reproach the other with being of High- Church or Low-Church, or any other Denomi- nation fprung from the difference of Opinion ; but they ery, you have not done as you would be done by, you have done that to another, which you would not have another do to you. And indeed, OpprefTion of the Poor, is a thing that cannot come into this Country j for all v/orking People, of what Trade foever, have certain Prices and Payments fixt to their Labour, as is fufficient to maintain them, their Families and Dependants. And. it' a great Dealer em- ploys any under Workman, and. abate him of his Price, as with us; or if any Workman can prove that he was employ'd by the greateft Man in the City, he can recover his flared Price of him, notwithflanding any Agreement to the contrary. . Their Eccleiiaflical Government is divided into Deacons, Elders and Bifhops ; for they will not allow of the Name of Prieft, as being a Word not juftified by Scripture, there being no fuch Order mention'd in the Gofpel ,• the Deacons are a fort of Helpmeets to the Elders^ of which there are three in every Parifli Church, who officiate in faying of Prayers twice every H 4 Da^', [ 104 ] Pay, and Preaching twice every Sunday ; but it is obfervable, that they are never permitted to take any Text but out of the four Gofpels, by which means all their Sermons run upon the adive Duties of Chriftianity, or upon the Paf- fion and Sufferings of Jefm Chrijl, which they exprefs with that Force and Pathos, for they are excellent Orators, that few of the Audience come away without Tears. Their Pulpits are not like ours, juft big enough to contain the Preacher, but more like the Roinan Rofira^ which were large enough to allow room to the Speaker to move fome Steps, and give that Adion lO the Pifcourfe which might make it more touching to the Audience. The Bifliop, who is fupreme in his own Diocefs, exercifes his Authodty chiefly over his Deacons and Elders, and pre- fides in a Court where all Accufations arc brought againll them, and they heard in their own Defence ; but if caft for any Irregularity of Life, either Avarice, Pride, Revenge, want of Charity, or Drunkennefs, they are deprivM of their Places, and banifli'd beyond the Moun- tains : But thefe Condemnations very feldom happen ; for the Clergy are maintained in fo handfome a manner, that there are no fcandalous indigent Fellows admitted into their Number, for it is fuch as thofe, in other Countries, that generally bring that Reproach upon the Clergy, which is fo frequently in the Mouths of moft Men. If the Elders have any Children, they prove no Incumbrance to 'em, for as foon as they are of fit Age, they are taken from them and put into thofe Schools, which are fettled for both Sexes ] and when they grow up, they " are provided for by the Publick. The Biftiop is obligM [ J05 ] oblig'd to hofpicable Living, in which he €x^ pends the greateft Part of his Revenue, his Children being likcwife provided for by the Publick. When a Bifiiop dies, the King names four, that isy one out of every Quarter of the City 'j and the Elders meeting in the Cathedral, chufe one of them. As they chufe the Bifhop, fo each Parifh chufes his Elder ; by which means a Man of Merit always gets in ; for there is no being chofen by a Number of People, but by being popular ; nor any way of being popular but by eminent Parts, and an unblemifli'd Life ; at leaft, in a Place where the Majority of the Eledors have a large Share of good Senfe and Probity. One Thing I had forgot, and that is, that tho' they have both Vocal and Inftrumental Mu- fick in their Churches, it is all great and foiemn, and fuch as naturally raifes the Soul to fublime and heavenly Thoughts, and never mingled with thofe light Airs, which are too frequent in feme of our Cathedrals, and of which forae of our greateft Matters of Mufick have been fo pre- poileroufly fond, as to force them upon the moft terrible Words. Thus in King Charles IVs Time, thefe Words were fet to a Jig, I'he Pangs of Death have encompajfed me about. Which made that pleafant Monarch fay, that it was the firft Time he had ever heard of Death's dancing a Jig. Of this kind alfo are our Volun- taries, as they call 'em, in which the Congrega- tion are merrily entertain'd with the Volubility of the Fingers of the Organift ; but how this can contribute any thing to Devotion I know not ; not ; but I'm fure there's no fuch thing in New Athens. I might fay more of the Religion of this People i but what I have faid feems enough to fliovv you their Happinefs. However, I can- not omit one thing, which 15 the Punifhment of Adultery; but that is a Vice not fo common there, as in moft other Parts of the World; and, perhaps, the Punifliment very much leflens the Number of Oft'enders, for when it is dif- coverM, the Man h banifti'd beyond the Moun- tains ; and the Woman has a fort of Compofi^ tion rub'd over her Face, which immediately in- fers it with Tumours and Swellings to that degree, that the moft beautiful Face is made the moft ugly and forbidding, and fhe herfelf degraded from her Qiiality, tho' never fo high, and fent into that Quarter of the Town where the Waflier- Women are, -and under them kept ^ Slave to hard Work as long as fhe lives. It is obfervable, that there is not in this rich and popular City fo much as one Coach ; but all, both Male and Female, are oblig'd to walk when they go out, except Women with Child, or fuch as are fick or lame, or very old, and thefe are carry'd in a fort of Chair, not very unlike our Sedans; but they are not permitted to go where the People walk> but in a Pafl'agc peculiar for all things of Burthen, that are car- ry'd upon Mens Shoulders ,• for thus the Screetsf are divided; the middle part of the Street is pav'd with a Stone about four or five Inches over, and there on that pafs all Carts and other Ve- hicles of Burthen, which are never permitted to be fo heavy loaden as the Cars are in London ; for the People here are merciful to their Beafts, as well as one anodicr. Of each (ide of this Pave- [!o7i Pavement tiiere rifes another, about a Fooe above the Surface of the Street, fix Foot over, and of a broader Stone, and upon this Paffagc or Pavement, ail the Chairs and Men of Burthen pafs. Above this again, about a Foot and hali; is another Pavement, which reaches to the Houfes, and which is about twelve Foot broad, that is, in the High-Streets, but narrower in the narrower Streets, and upon this all Paflengers on foot go. The Streets are every where kept perfedly clean, which is done by every Houfe, being oblig'd in the Morning early to fweep be- fore their Doors, whilft the Water comes frqm the Engines plac'd at the End of every Street, and waflies away all the Filth into the Common- Shores, which Common-Shores are fo large, that one of our Carts may go in it loaden with Hay, and to which, at High-Tide, the Water comes from the Canals, and fo keeps them clean and fweet. I believe you may, by what I have faid, con- clude that this is one of the happieft Cities in the World ,• for their Happinefs is fecured by the Safety of their Peace and Tranquility, as well as their Health, by thefe following Means ; firft, there are no Poor, that is, neceffitous, wanting Perfons, who are deficient in the ne- ceflary Subfiftance of Life ; for it is the Buiinefs of the Deacons of every Parifh to vifit all Fa- milies in it, and find out fuch as Misfortunes may render unhappy ; and immediately, as foon as they are known, the free Contribution of the Brethren of that Parifh puts an End to their Unhappinefs. Another thing is, that there are no Lawyers here, no Attorneys, Pettifoggers, Solicircrs, Bailiff's, and the like, v/ho, in other Countries, [ io8] Gjuntnes, have a large hand in the Ruin of Families. Here the Elders of the Parilh make up and compofe all the lefler Difputesi and every one of the four Quarters of the City have two Orators, who plead pro and con the more difficult Caufes before the King himfelfi but they have no Fees from their Gient, but arc paid by the Publick a certain ftated Salary; fo that they have no temptation to embarrafs the People in litigious Suits, but are willing to make an en4 of them all with the utmoft Ex- pedition. That which fecures their Health, next to the happy Situation of the Place, is that they have no fuch thing as an Apothecary in all this Coun- try, and not above a dozen Phyficians, who are called Ghefl'ers, as knowing very well that the Art of Phyfick is purely conjedurai, the Medi- cines are few and iimple, contriv'd to help Na- ture, and not to put it upon a double Labour, by Multiplicity of Drugs, when Sicknefs renders it the leaft capable of combating with the Evils of the Diftemper alone, contrary to the Cuflom of this Part of the World, where the Phylician, to gratify the Apothecary, multiplies the nau- feous and loathfome Draughts of Phyfick to the Patient ; fo that betwixt the Diftemper and them, he perifiies, to enrich the Apothecary and Dodor. Specificks, which are here thought ri- diculous, are there in great efleem, as being confirmed by an Hiftorical Pradice, and the Ex- perience of many Ages ; and this comes to pafs by the Fewnefs of Diftempers ; for Intem- perance, the Source of moll: of ours, is not known in this fortunate Climate. I {hoiild [ 109 ] I (hould fay fomething of the King, and fc- veral Prerogatives ; but it will be fufficient to let you know that this wife People allow him all thofe Privileges which may render him capable of doing good to his People, without any that may enable him to be injurious to their Liberty and Happinefs. Accordingly, there is no Prince in the World, who is attended with greater Pomp, Magnificence and Ceremony, than the King of New Athens, and the Territories there- unto belonging j he never is feen in publick, but with the higheft Applaufe and Veneration of the People, who look upon him as the Inftrument of God for their Good. At his Inauguration, the two principal Mem- bers of the great Council tell him plainly, that tho* he be greater than any particular one in his Kingdom, yet that all united together are grea- ter than he ; that he ought always to remem- ber that that illuftrious Office, to which he was now exalted, was inftituted for the Good and Happinefs of the People he is to reign over, and not to gratify his private Paffions and cor- rupt Inclinations, without regard to the Peace and Quiet of his Subjefts j and much more to the fame purpofe, in which the Encouragement of Virtue, and Arts and Sciences, and all manner of ufeful Knowledge, is recommended with great Efficacy j for thefe People are of Opinion, that a general Knowledge among the People is the beft Security of a general Happinefs ; and that Ignorance is a dangerous Inlet to Novel- ties, Commotions, and ail other Difturbances whatever. But tho' by this, and other Circumfcriptions of the regal Power, they have arm'd themfelves pretty [no] pretty well againll thofe Encroachments ty which the fupreme executive Power has, irt other Countries, overthrown Liberty, fince it was impofliblc to have a Kingly Government, without confiditig very great Trufls to the King ,- and that there are Men in all Courts Vt^ho arc apt to flatter the Prince, and induf- trious to find out Ways and Means to enable him to gratify their own private Aims of Avarice or Ambition, it is an eftablifh'd Law, without any Exception, that every Perfon (hall fet his Name to the Advice which he gives; which keeps them in awe, and malces them ex- treamly careful to give no Advice that can be injurious to the Publick, being fure, if tliey did, to meet with an exemplary Puniihment, it be- ing out of the King's Power to pardon the Otfence. By this means the Mifcarriages of Goverr?- ment never fall upon the Crown, as in othef Countries, but on the true Authors of them. And to avoid the Inconveniences that often arife by the long Continuance of any one Set ot Men in the Adminiilration of publick Affeirs, the King's Council, and all Places of Truft and Profit were eftablifh'd by Law to be annual, by which means all grounds of Parties and Faction were remov'd, lince no tricking nor finifler De-* figns could be of any uCc to perpetuate their: Authority : And thus, every Perfon, capable to ferve the Publick, either in Military or Civil Affairs, had their Turns to make their Merit confpicuous. From hence it came to pafs, that the State, inflead of depending upon a few^ _ had a perpetual Succeffion of able Heads to fiipport it ; and Tm of Opinion, that this an- nual [ill ] nual Succeffion of Magiftrates gave Co many illuftrious Hero's to the Commonwealths o£ Athens and Rome ,* however, if we may believe the Hiftory of this Country, this Method has for one Thoufand Years preferv'd the Happinefs of Neiu Athens. But I fear I have been fo tedious in the Ac- count I have given you of this Place, tho' very fhort of what it deferves, that I ought to drav;^ towards a Concluiion, without proceeding to a Defcription of the other Cities of this Nsvj Attica. However, I cannot make an end, with- out informing you how thefe old Grecians came into this Part of the World ; and I fliail give it you, as near as I can, in the Words of the Learned Socrates, a Member of the College of Hiftory of this City ; for every part of Know- ledge here has its peculiar College. This So- crates was in nothing inferiour to that Primitii'e Martyr of the Unity of the Godhead in Old Athens, and an equal Lover of Truth and Ho- nefty; yet with this Advantage, that he was enlightened with the Dodrine of the Gofpel. One Morning as we were taking a Walk up- on the Ramparts, I mov'd this Queftion to him, which he anfwer*d in as few Words as the Mat- ter would bear. I fhall not need (faid he) to give you any Account of the Misfortunes which befel Old Athens till its .final Deftrudion, at leaft, as far as I can tell, by the Inundations of bar- barous Nations. Juft before the fecond Ap- proach of thofe People, a pannick Fear had feiz'd on all the Inhabitants of Greece, and the People of Athens and Atttca had a very large fhare in it, being terrified' by the extreme Cruelties and Devaftations committed by the Barbarians in Ciiil In their former Irruption : In the midfl of this Conftcrnation, a Man of great Authority and Efteem with the People, and who had been a great Traveller^ prevailM with them to liftcn to his Advice. His'NsimewSisDemophilHi; and his Advice was ; that fince they lay fo expos'd to the Barbarians, as frequently to feel the Effefts of it ; and that the Roman Empire was ever too weak or too negligent to afford them Pro- tedion, they ought in common Prudence to take care of themfelves : But fince they had by Ex- perience found, that they were unable to da this in the Country where they liv'd ; he profVer'd himfelf to be their Condudor to a more fortu- nate Qimate, where they might be fecure againft all thofe Evils, with which they were there daily threaten*d. He confefs'd, that Greece was a very pleaiing Country in itfelf ,• that Nature had beftow'd upon it fo many Blelfings, that few Places in the World could equal it ; but that all this Happinefs vanifh'd, if they would but confider that they had no manner of Security of enjoying thofe Bleflings, but muft exped: either immediate Death upon the Place, or to be tranf- ported into infupportable Bondage, by a Peo- ple that had no Notion of Chriftianity or Hu- manity. That it was not the Fertility and Plea- fantnefs of any Soil, that made a Country dear to its Inhabitants, or indeed, that deferv'd the Nameof our Country, which was only due to the Laws and Liberties which the People enjoy'd ; that thofe were of fuch a Nature, that they might tranfport them with 'em wherever they went. He concluded his Speech, with afluring them, that he was commiffion'd by Heaven it- felf to conduft fuch as would follow him to a I PlJW^, [ 113 ] place, where they might enjoy thofe Laws and Liberties without Fear or Danger : That, indeed, it would coft feme Time, and a great deal of Labour ai-^l Fatigue to Travel to this happy Climate ; but certainly, that no Pains or La; hour could be thought too great to purchafe Se- curity and Happinefs to themfelves and Pofteri- This Speech, and the other Applications of himfclf and Friends, join'd with a frefh Ru- mour of the Approach of the Barbarians, made about one hundred thoufand follow him in this: Expedition," carrying with them all that was valuable and ufeful to them, either in their Jour- ney or future Settlement. It would be to no purpofe to give ydu the' Particulars of his Voyage, the many Difficul- ties he met with, or the Murmurings of his Fol- lowers, in a Journey of three Years Continuance^ thro' flrangc Countries, vail: Defarts and the like J having vanquifh'd all which, and having pafs'd a very large Trad of uninhabited Landj he at laft brought his People to a large and deep River, to which he gave the Name of the River of Hope ; and here they made their laft Stand ; Demophilm aflluing them, that they had nothing to do towards the pofl'efling that noble and beautiful Country he told them of, but to, fet all Hands to work, and cut down Trees^ of Which there were there a very great Plenty, to build Boats to carry them down that River. The firfl that were builc, Demophilm defirM might be difpatch'd with him and the reft of the Heads of his Peoplcj to go and bring them further Affif- tance. Accordingly they departed, with a Pro- tnifc to return in a Week's Time j rowing with I ihe [ 114] the Stream, they arrivM in tliis Conti/ient of At- tica^ and landed in a Harbour, which we now call Biz,amium, then only a little Village, contain- ing about twenty Houles. The Greeks that came with Demophilm, were infinitely pleas'd with the Beauty oi the Land ; but much more fo, when they found the Hu- manity of the Inhabitants. For this Country was inhabited by about one hundred and fifcy thoufand Men, VVomen and Children, before the Arrival of the Greeks^ and may properly be call'd the Aborigines of the Place ; for wc have nothing in Hiftory tiiat gives us the lead Ac- count of their coming hither from any other Part of the World. They were not Idolaters, but believ'd only in one God j they were Af- fable, Courteous and Docile ; in Ihort, they were very much pleas'd with this new Accef- lion of People to their little State : Not to dwell upon Trifles, or every minute Circum- flance. Care was taken to convey all the reft from the Defart to this Continent, to the in- finite Satisfadion of tiie weary Travellers, to find this happy Retreat after all their Pains and Fatigue. In fhort, they foon made the old Inhabitants Chriftians ; and by marrying and intermarrying among them, grew together into one People ; and this was the Occalion of the Corrupting, if I may fo call it, of the old Greek Language, into that which you now find us fpeak. We cafily prevail'd with our new Brethren, to chufe Dentophihtiy and Arijlm the Head of the old Inhabitants, joint Kings of the united Peo- ple, under whofe Government all Things feem'd to profperi wholfome Laws were made, and Liberty [115] Liberty every way fecur'd, Towns and Cities were founded, and Arts and Arms improvM,- but this City of Athens was not built till fome Ages afterwards, when the Country was grown Populous, and wanted as it were a fort of El- bow Room ; when I'heophilHiy one of the Succef-- fors of the two firft Kings, whofe Families had been united fome time before, look'd upon this Spot of Ground, as a fit Place to build New Athens upon ; the Jflhmm and Peninfula fecming to be a proper Barrier or Bulwark againft the Invalions of the Southern Barbarians, who then began to infeft thefe Coafis. From fmall Be- ginnings this City is arrived at length to that Magnificence in which yoii find it ; and in which, I believe, fcarce any City in the World excels it, except the great City of Komanay the Capi- tal of this Part of the Chriflian World : But to give you an Account of that, its Rife, Pro- grefs and Hiftory, requires more Time than is now upon our Hands ; for now our Hours of Ledure are come, and we muft each repair to the Performance of our Duty, leaving the En- quiries of Curiofity to thofe vacant Times^ when we are not employed on more important Bufinefs. Having faid this, we each return'd to our feveral Colleges j but I fhall defer not only my Account of Romana^ but of all the feveral Cities of Attica. I Ihall only conclude this Dif- courfe, with a fliort Account of my unwilling Return to thefe Parts of the World. After the Barbarians had received that great Defeat, which I mentioned before; they lay flill for many Years, till the Terror of that De- feat, and the Memory of it were both vanifh'd j and new Defire of Plunder, with their Native* I 3 Hardinefo [ncJ] Hardinefs and unquiet Temper, put them again in Arms. I was at that Time in the City of Romana with my old Comrade, who was de- clar'd General in this Expedition againfl the Barbarians : At his Dcfire I attended liim to the War ; which was foon brought pretty near to a Conclufion, by the Force of our Artillery and fmall Fire-Arms, againft which the Enemy could by no means think of /landing ; fo that we having penetrated a great way into their Country, a Treaty was propos'd and agreed to, ' during which, I and feme more vcntur'd, out of Curiofity, to go up to the Top of a vaft high Mountain, from whence we might difcover to the Northward vafl Seas, and great Trads of Lands i but as we came down again, miftaking the Path which led to our Camp, we purfu'd one which brought us into that of the Enemy, where we were foon made Prifoners, notwith- ftanding the Treaty, for they have little regard to Faith or Honour. There happened to be among them one who had been a Prifoncr m New Athens^ and there had feen me frequently ; his Knowledge of me, with the Mark in my Face, which I mentioned formerly, convinced, the Chiefs that I was no Native of thofe Parts ; but one of thofe from whom the Chriftians kad leam'd thofe terrible Engines of War ; and therefore they aflur'd me I fhould not give myfelf any Fears of ill Treatment. from them, fince by 'letting them into the Knowledge of the fame Advantages, I might hope for all the Honour and Refped their Country could pay me : What- ever I could fay of this Breach of Faith was to no manner cf Purpofc, for we \yere all hur- ' tied 1 117 ] ried away far into their Country, without any ^ Hopes of Deliverance. In Ihort, I was detained there fome Months, till I found an Opportunity of making my Efcape from my Keepers, by the Help of a young Woman, who furnifii'd me with the Habit of the Country, and with fuf- ficient Difguifes to pafs from Place to Place, if , I had known whither to dired my Flight ,• but wandring Northward as much as I could, I came at lafl to an Arm of the Sea, with my Fe- male Companion, which forbad us going any further. We had not been long confidering there, but we difcover'd a fnull Ship making to the Shore, who manning their Boat, foon feiz'd us and carry 'd us on Board. For my Part, 1 did not much care into whofe Hands I fell, fo that I . could efcape the Natives of that Country ,• but I was as pleas'd as I could be in that Circum- . ftance, to find it a French Ship, who being driven into tliofe Parts by flrefs of Weather, feiz'd us in hopes of knowing what Country it was, and what the Nature of its Inhabitants. I let them know that it was a moft barbarous and inhofpitable Coafl ,• and that they could not do better than to make all the hafte they could from it, begging them to take me with them, which they confented to do ; and the Wind coming to the South-Eaft, we fail'd Ncrth-Weft with a brisk Gale. But ill Fortune had not yet forfaken me ; for after we had fail'd fome Days profperouOy enough, a new Storm arofe, and tofs'd us with fuch Violence, for two or three Days, that at la-ft we defpair'd of efcaping ; but the Storm pafling over, the Mafler aflur'd us that we were not very far from Land j and, I 3 as [ "8] as he thought, from Carolina, whither he would make, becaufe his Ship was very leaky, fo that all we could do was to keep her above Water till wc made the Shore, at leafl. To near that none of us perifli'd when the Ship funk. When we got afliore, I was very well pleasM to find that it was Carolina indeed ; for fince I could find no way of returning to New Athensy I was at leaft pretty fecure of finding a Pafl'age to Old Eiiglandy which I did in about two Months time, having buried my Southern Deliverefs in Carolina. Thus, Sir, I have given you a fhort Account of part of my Adventures, during my Abfence from England. If this find your Acceptance, I don't know but that I may, fome time or other, give you the reft ,• I fhall only now add, that I ^m Tour faithful humble Seri'ant, Maurice Williams, [ 119 ] LETTER II. ALBERONI: or, A Vindication of that Cardinal, A Political Paradox. Muhis Utile BeUum, To Adam Jubbs Efq-, at his Houfe near Coventry-ftreet, Piccadilly, Dear Sir, I Know you have always been averfe to enter far into any Party, left they flioiild expert you to O.crifice the Freedom of your Senti- ments to whatever they fhould think fit to do for their prefent Intereft, in perpetuating their Power, without regard to the Publick Good ; by which means we generally find you in the Number of the Grumblers ; for I never knew in my Life, which has been for near threefcore Years, any Party, when they got into Power, that did not give ju(l Occafion, by a Con- du6t unequal to their ProfefTions, of Difcontent to all true Patriots. I except the prefent Mi- niftry from this Refledion ; for I have been too much out of the World lince their AccefHon to Power, to know enough of their Tranfadions to form a certain Judgment of them ; you who live? in the Town, and frequent the politick Aflc«i* 1 4 biies blics of Coffce-Houfes, Chocolate-Houfes, and the other Reforcs of the Talkative, know bet- ter what to determine, in this Particular, than I do. I think I have known you, lince my Ac- quaintance with you, four or five times H^oig and T'ory, according' -as the' Powers in being eitlicr pleas'd or difguflcd yoir. How honeft this Conduct may fliovV you to be to the unbiafs'd Confiderer, I know not ; but Tm fure that the cunning Part of the World will not think you very politick or prudent ; for the cunning Men endeavour to turn the publick Diviiicns of the Nation to their own particular Advantage, fome by violently cfiicufing one Party, and fome by as violently fetting , up for the other; and fome fortunate Fellows by Curr)iiig Matters with fo even a Hand, that they make an eafy Tranfition from the falling P^rty to that which is rifing : But thefe are Men, generally fj^eaking, whoie Aim is Riches, not Power j and who are in Pofis of great' Profit, tho' not of Dignity, in whicli they make themfelvcs though*- fo necef- fafy to'the new Comers to Power, of either Pa'rt^s a!^ "to continue them in their Polls. I couTd nanie'fcv'eral, who by this means, have got good ^'flatcs by- holding their Places in all Turns, as' Men who were' necefliiry for the Dif- cHaree of" thofe Pbfts, by their long Continuance intheni. '•;;* ';'- J. J But in reality thdre is nothing in this, but the Fear arid' Ignorance; of the Men^in Power of both Parties j for there are always 'Men of Ca- pacity'knd' Ability enough, in each Party, to J^erfofrtir'ntry Place in the Revenue, which is th^ StaF'^'that ^iffordsm^ft 6f the P^rts that bring iti' 'c6nrid,ei:abie Profits' bicher tc the- Priitcipals or --^'. -i:- •i.-i: -^ •"---: ■-'■•' ■•' >^- under C lii ] under Officers -, for, my Friend Adam, the Pub«. lick is the Dupe or Bubble, which every Side en-« deavours to get into their own Management, not for the Love they bear it, but for the Profit ic a fiords them. Tho' this happens to fome few, after they are once got into Polls, yet fcarce one thefe forty Years have made the firft Step in Preferment, wichout appearing to be of forjip Pa,rty or other. ' ^'•.'' ", ' ^ Multis Utile Belhim is a Maxim that was often preach'd to me by a Friend of mine, when he found that I was fomething of your Mind, and not fix'd firmJy in any one of the Parties. Thefe publick Divilions, faid he, are a fort of Warfare, where each Side is drawn up in Battle-Array, to ftruggle for Riches and Preferment; each one that comes into the Fight, on one Side or the other, has a Lot to get foine of the Plunder, while he who never comes into the Field cannot hope' for any Share of it. This holds good, not only in the domefticfc Divifions of Nations, but in the Wars betwixt Kingdom and Kingdom ; for here likewife MuU lis Utile Belhim is certainly true ; for tho' few Na- tions, as political Governments, get much by War, unlefs they happen to make confiderable Conquefts j yet Multitudes of the People of thofe Nations, which compofe the Soldiery, or thofe who f.ipply the Soldiery with Arms, Ammu- nition, Cloaching and Food, get Wealth to them- felves and their Families.: And War is likewife beneficial to fome Nations, by difciplining their People, and ufing them to Arms, by which they are deliver a from a dellruaive Slotk. and en- I * ' ' abled [ 111] abled to defend their Country againfl any foreign Invader. The Spaniards have, for many Years, that is, from the Time of Phihp II, been very remifs in keeping their People up to Arms, which, joined with their native Pride and Sloth, expofed them either to the Infults of their Neighbours tiic French, or to depend upon foreign Alliances with thofe States, whofe Security, indeed, de- pended on their Safety. What little help they ever gave to the Confederacies form'd in Europe^ for their Defence, thefe laft forty Years fuffi- ciently fliowj which makes mc wonder that Cardinal Alberoni has been fo much ridicul'd and laughed at, as a mad and whimfical Undertaker ; ■whereas he appears to me a Man of great Po- liticks, and one who judges too nicely of Things, to have a favourable Judgment pafs on his Aftions by a vulgar Coniiderer : As he is an Enemy to my Country, I wifli all his Deligns againfl it may be confounded, that is, meet with the fame Event they have hitherto done s yet it would not be jufl to rob him of his due Merit, tho* an Enemy. As a Spaniard he has afted both like a Patriot and a great Statefman ; he has begun to rouze that Nation which has been fo many Years unaAive, and benumb'd with a fort of a general Lethargy and fupine Neglefl; of Arras; he has, I fay, rou2*d them to martial Exploits, and fent them upon fuch Expeditions, and at fuch a Tundure of Affairs, as would give them Succefs enough to flufh them to greater Attempts. Thus they carry 'd Sardittia, and bid fair for the Kingdom of Srdly, from wtich they ace not yet tc^talJy diflodg'd. I can- [1^3 1 I cannot believe that Alheroni ever Imagin'd that he fliould put his Mafter, the Spanijh King, in a guiet and fafe Pofleffion of fuch Acquifi- tions as he fhould make on that Side ; but he by this has furnifti'd him with a difciplin'd Army, us'd to Adion, which in time may be of more ufe to him nearer Home. He had great Hopes from the Divifions in France, and the ftrong Parties there fupported by the Jefuits againft the Regent, in the Minority of a King, of not above lix or feven Years of Age ; and the Intereft of Philip V, and his Claim, notwithftanding his former Renunciation, to the Crown of France ; and in cafe he could bring theGallick Male-contents to a Refolution of de- claring for his Mafler, either as Regent or King of France^ he would then have a difciplin'd Army of fome Force, to fupport his numerous Friends among them. His Diligence and Ap- plication, both in the Nayal and Land Prepara- tions, cannot be fufficiently admir'd, that in fo fhort a Time could furnifli out fo many Ships, and fo many Men, in a Nation almoft deftitute of both, on his coming to the Admin iflration. And this Application of his is lately made more wonderful, by the taking Fort Pajfage^ where they burnt fix Men of War already built, and Materials for twenty more, which were to be built with all Expedition ; and this only in one Port of Spain. How great the fame Preparations are in other Parts of that Country I know not ; but can never believe that all their Naval Prepa- rations were confined to Fort Pajfage^ a Place fo near to Frame ; and, by confequence, fo liable tp be taken by them. However, this is a plain ^ froof C U4 ] Proof that Spain is not (o de/picable, or in- capable of making great Efforts, when aduated by a' brisk and maflcrly Genius. But yon will fay, to what Purpofe all this Buftle, Trouble and Expence, fince he could not be fo mad, as to ima- gine Spain capable of contending with all the rell oi Europe, on this Occafion confederated againft it, when it could fcarce keep its Head above Water againft France alone, tho' join'd wit;h all the other Powers of Europe! To this I reply, Firft, That he was very well acquainted with the Diviilons in Francs and England } znd thatr if he could bring them to bear,, he efteflually' 'diflblv'd that Confederacy, whofe Sapport and Cement were France and England. Secondly, That if both thefe Defigns fail*d' him, that his Mafter was fecure of a Peace Upon reafonable Terms ; fince it was not confiftent with the Safety oi Eur ope, that Spain Ihould fall' into the jHands of France, to hinder which, flich lohg, fuch bloody, and fuch expen- five Wars' had been undertaken. And I do fur- ther fuppofe, that he dq,es believe that France it- felf would never confcnt that Spain fliould again fall into the Hands 'of the Houfe of Auflria, cfpecially,' fince if Philip were compell'd to quit Spain, he would be bblig'd to return into France as a Prince pf the Blood ; and by confequence, by Right, become Regent during the Minority of the King, as being the nearefl of kin, which would likewife put an eftedual End to his Re- nunciation, which was enter'd into in confide- Tation of having the Crown of Spain -, but by taking that from him, they put him in the State he was in before he ac^tpted of it j and leave^ •' .-jiJi vci 1.. him C l^i 1 him an undoubted Right to fucceed Lewd XVj /in cafe he fhould die without Heirs lawfully be- gotten by his own Body. Upon thefe Views, I fancy Alberoni is not fo whimfical a Perfon as fome may think him. How far I am in the right on't I know not, noc do I much care; I have only eas'd myfelf by putting down my Thoughts of this Matter; which, if they amufe but a quarter of an Hour of your Time, will be fufficient Satisfa^ion to Totir Friend md Servam, Anthony Easy* [ li^ ] LETTER IIL 'Agairiji Delay} Crcts nimUfero efit vive hodie. Principtis ohfta : fero medicina paratttr] Cum mala pr longaa invaiuere moras* To Jonathan Tardy Efq; at Idle-Hall iieai' (Canterbury, Kent. Dilatory Jonathan, I Thought before this time I fiiould have feea you in Town, to join with me in folici- ting for your honeft Nephew Jack, as well as to look after your own AAairs here, which fuffer extremely by your Abfence. I think it is now about fix Weeks fince you fent me word that you would be m Town m three or four Days at fartheft ; but I do not expedt you now in fix Weeks longer; nor indeed then, unlefs you will fairly give over what you have fought with fo much Earneflnefs ; Earneflnefs did I fay ? why if" your Words were to be underflood like other Peoples, I fhould think that Word proper enough for what you writ ; but coniidering, that when a thing comes into your Head, that may afford you either Pleafure or Profit in your Opinion, you are prefently all on fire For the Accomplifhment of it ; the firfl Day you are eager,. r 1^7 1 fhQn twelve a-Clock came, and the Company put him in mind that it was time to go home, he would tiz8] Would fay by and by. Here Drawct bring tlic other Bottle and to pay ; and thus on till Day-light ; from whence he got tlie Name of Break-a-Day, and he would curfe the bleffed Sun for intruding into the Room, and robbing him of his Company, by informing them that ic was high time to go home : But he generally took care to avoid that Evil, by chufing a Room which was naturally dark, and artificial- ly confirm'd fo by clofe Shutters, by which he join'd two Nights in one, lengthened by exclu- ding the intervening Day ; and this merely to put off that that mull come to pafs, his going home, tho' he mofl: commonly took care to fave his Legs that Labour, by being carryM home drunk. But tliis, perhaps, may look as if it pro- ceeded from his Love of the Bottle, and not his procraftinating Temper ; but it is plain ic was the latter ,- for when he was at home he was equally putting ofi' his going abroad, tho' he promisM his Friends, perhaps, every Night to go with them, and every Night put them oft' to the next, till his Defire of the Tavern grew too ftrong for his Lazinefs. And this was the conflant Courfe of his Life, ftiil putting oft' the Hour of his going abroad, and delaying that of his Return home. Whoever is troubled with this Folly of De- lay, will never make his Fortune in the World, fince he will certainly lofe every Opportunity of doing it, which feldom returns when once loft ; nor, indeed, would it be to much purpofe to return to Men o.t this Temper, who would be fure to lofe itj let it come never fo often. [lip] 'The lucky ha'ue "vohole Days, and thofe they nfe^ "the unlucky ha've but Hours, and thcfe they lofe^ And by that means make themfelves unhappy. Your Cafe, indeed, is ibmething different, you are poflefs'd of a plentiful Fortune, and there- fore have no need of that Adivity in the pur- fuit of Bufinefs, which Men of narrow Circum- flances are obh'g'd to. They Hiould always bear in their Mind that wife Maxim of our Anceftors, Never to defer that till to Morrow which you can do to Day. But tho' you are not obh'g'd to this Adivity which I mention, in regard of the Goods of Fortune, yet you have been a Man of Pleafure and a Lover. Delays are as dangerous in Love as in War or in Courts, which makes me be- lieve that you were never very fortunate in your' Intrigues with the Fair, for they are full as fickle as the blind Goddefs j and if you mifs the Opportunity, 'tis ten to one but there's an End of your Amour. For my Part, I always confider'd that I was not fure of to Morrow, and therefore I perpetually made ufe of the pre- fentDay; I confider'd that the Diftempers of Fortune were like thofe of the Body, the longer you let them prevail without applying a Re- medy, the more difficult was the Cure. But laying afide all thefe Speculations, I advife you to come away immediately to Town, for your Nephew's fake, for your own fake, and for the fake of Tour faithful Friend, and humble Servant^ Philip Forelock. K [150 1 LETTER IV. The Fop. Pajlillos Rufillus oktj Gorgonius Hircu7n. To Mr. Pkindrefsj at his Hotife in Watling- ftreet, London. Dear Frie/idj I Have fpent my Time very agreeably in the Country, till the beginning of lafl Week, when there came down two Monfters from London, of a much different kind, tho' they are perpetually together, RufiUiis and Gorgonius. Rujiihu> is a perfect Sir Courtly ; or, indeed, Sir Courtly would be look'd on as a very faint Copy of Riifil/pii, he is fo exquiiite a Fop. Gorgonim, on the other fide, is the errantefl Sloven, the jnoft negligent of Drefs, and fond of every thing that is not admir'd by Rufillus. This always {links of Perfumes, that of his own grofs and filthy Vapours, His froitfy Pores taint the amliem Air. Rtifillus fays he always keeps him company to be a Foil to his Perfections, as a hand- fome young Whore generally goes Arm in Arm, in all the publick Places, with a Doudy would ttrould almoft frighten you. Thus, while Rti-* fillus difplays his Fopperies^ and by flirring him- felf gives frelh Motion to his PerfumeSj Gcrgonius qualifies the uneafy Scents, by Erudations trom above or below. And while RufiUus minces the Englijh to give it a Fop's Nicety to the Ear, Gorgonius burfts out into Language as broad as a Scotchman, and as rude as a BtiUy. This is the wretched Variety under which I have been con- fined now almoft a Week, and which will make me quit this charming Place, were I not afl'ur'd we fliould be delivered from their Company in two Days, Why the t).evil does not your great Hive of London keep all her Monftcrs to herfelf, and not detach them abroad to difturb the Quiet of us Country Folks ? There RufiUus might pafs among the Ladies for a fine Gentleman, and Gorgonius among the Sots for an honeft blunt Fellovv; there KufiUus might fpend all his Morning with his Taylor, Peruke-maker, Sempftirefs and Shoe- maker, to fay nothing of his Hofier and Valet de Chambre, his Bubble-boy and Perfumer, to equip himfelf by five or fix a Clock m the Eve- ning, to make a ridiculous Figure among the Men, and an agreeable one among the Ladies .: They tell us that the Spice-Iflands are fmelc many Leagues at Sea before they come in siqmj'^ . and RufiUus fends his aking Odors almoft a quarter of a Mile before him. Gorgonius fcldom gets fo early abroad ; the Tavern Hour is gene- rally his Levee; and 'ris very well it is fo, elfc the noxious Smells that come from him would be very oftenfive to the Paftengers in the Street, and h.ghten them with the Apprehenfion that fome Plague was near, by the unvvholfome Va- K % poui: pour that from him aflaulted their Noftrils ; but pafling only from his Lodgings to the Tavern, the good Liquor and the Tobacco fortify the Company's Stomach againft him. What flrange Animals are thefe ? RtifiUus feems made only for the Benefit of his Taylor, and the other Trades that club to fet him out a moft accomplifh'd Coxcomb ; he's more igno- rant and more impertinent than the (illieft of the fillieft Sex ; but he has a good Eftate left him by a rich Relation, which took him from Fumival's' Inn and the eighteen-penny Gallery, to place him in fine Lodgings in the Pall-mall, or in the Front-Box, or the Stage in the Theatres, where he fets himfelf as a Mark for the Ladies Eyes to admire, and the reft of the Audience to laugh at. But enough of this Coxcomb, we Ihall be rid of him in two or three Days ; and then I hope we Ihall have your good Company, which will foon banifh the Thoughts of this Fatigue from lour faithful B tend and Sewanty William Naive. [ 155 ] LETTER V. Tfoat the Unfortunate ha've no Friendi. Donee eris felix multos numerabis amicQs, NuUus ad amjjfaa venit amicus opes. To Alexander Friendly Efq-, at his Houfe near Maidfton in Kent. Si r, 1 Received your obliging Letter of the fifth Inflant, by which you are pleasM to invite me into the Country, with the Promife of a hearty V/elcome, and fo pleafant an Apart- ment, that I cannot mifs of frequent Vifits in it from the Mufes, afTuring me I fliall enjoy it as long as 1 pleafe. This is an Argument of that friendly Temper which is Rx*d in your Nature, and difcover'd by all your Aftions; and gives me the Satisfadion of finding, that I have not yet loft all my Friends by my Misfortunes ; but it happens fo that the Indifpofition of my Body deprives me of that Happinefs which you ge- neroLifly offer me, being not able to go out of my Room. But, my good Friend, how comes it to pafs that you are not like the reft of my Friends, but continue your Kindnefs when thej^lmve all forfaken me at a Time when their Friendfhip was moft neccflary to me ? As for the'common Herd, K 3 the the general Acquaintance which one meets with in this World, I am not at all concern'd for their Lofs ; but I confefs I am not fo indifterent for the Defcrtion of two Gentlemen, from whom I expefted other Things, becaufe of their excellent Senfe j I fhall diftinguifh them here by the Names of Hugo and Addoy both Men of ad- mirable Parts. Hugo is a Gentleman of uncommon QiuHfi- cations ; he's a very good Poet, efpepially in the Lyrick way, he draws very finely, and is an ex- cellent Judge in Pointing. He is^ befides, a con- fiderable Proficient in the Art of Mufick, he's a very good Critick, and a general Scholar ; but whilft Nature has been fo bountiful to him, in fuch fine Qualities of Mind, fhe has been ex- treamly penurious in her Favours to his Body ; not but that he is very agreeable in his Perfon, very amiable in his Countenance, which difco- vers all the Marks of good Senfe and good Temper, but his Conflitution is fo weak that he feldom enjoys the Blefllng of Health. Immcdicis breTis eft ^tqi & rarafeueBus. Men of fuch Accomplifhments feldom arrive at old Age ; and this, 1 believe, will be the Fate of my Friend Hugo ; I mean of Hugo who was once my Friend, and has forfaken me I know not •why. All the Caufc that I can guefs at I fhall tell you as fpon as I have given you the Character of Addo. Addo is a Gentleman who has equal Obliga- tions to Fortune and Nature. Nature laid the Foundation of thofe confiderablc Benefits he afterwards received from Foruine, by giving hm C ij5 ] him a Genius and Parts capable of recommen- ding him to the Great. Thefe he improv'd by Study at the Univerfity, and t>rought to Perfec- tion by Travel and Converfation : Nature fmil'd upon him at his Birth, and Fortune in every Step of his Life. It is very rare and un- common for Nature and Fortune to go thus Hand in Hand, in the forming the Happinefs of any one Perfon ,• and yet without this Union of Nature and Fortune, it is impoffible for anyone Perfon to mount the arduous Steps, which lead ro Power and Wealth, with that Efleem which makes every one applaud the Succefs to which fuch a Perfon arrives. Addo has had this Hap- pinefs, to gain the feveral Pods he has pafs'd thro', without the Envy cf any one, and with the Approbation of all : As to the Qualities of his Mind they are very uncommon, for he has at once a Genius for Poetry and Bufinefs ; he is a perfed Mafter of all the Clafficks, and at the lame time of all thofe political Maxims, which are necefl'ary to condud him to the Aim of his Defires, thro"* a fort of P»;opIe, v/ho have, in their own Natures, very little Knowledge cf, and much lefs Regard to thofe Arts, and that Learning which makes Addo fo confidsrable in. the Eyes of the Polite. Tho' he has all the Genius of a great Poet, yet he has fcarce any of the Vanity ; he is fo little fond of the Praifcs due ro his Writings, that bellowing them upon others, he has rais'd Men of very dcfpicable Parrs to the Reputation of being Writers cf the firfl Clafs. You know the Perfons I mcar, I (hall not need therefore to name ''cm. There is one Qiiality in .■^ddo as an Author, which is as uncommon as admirable ; and that is, a K 4 wondsifr.l wonderful Modefty and Diffidence in what he does, tho' he has fuch a Maftery in Learning of all forts, as might juflify a more dogmatick Pro- ceedure : I know he has been accus'd, by a Per- fon wiio has infinite Obligations to him, that he is extrcamly averfe to make ufe of his Intereft for the Service of his Friend ; and that if a Word fpeaking in that Friend's Behalf would make him happy, he would not go over tlie Threfhold to do it. But, dear Sir, this Charadcr comes from a Man, w^ho, thro' tlie whole Courfe of his Life, has been particularly remarkable for a heinous degree of that very Guilt of which he accufes Addo^ and from which my particular Experience can vindicate him. Thefe being the Charafters o^ Hugo and A dJo^ I {hall now tell you my Conjedure of the Caufe of the Lofs of them. You know the Malice of my Fortune has obiig'd me Ibmetimes lo fcribhJe, even for my Subliiience. In a Book I lately pub- lifh'd, I had a mind to give the World a TaOe of the Violence of Love, in a few Letters from a fair deferred Lady to her royal Lover. To make the Charaders the more conliderable, I raised them to the firft Rank of Fortune ,- and g;ave the Kero certain royal Virtues, which fliould make him the more diflinguiOi'd and con- liderable : But it fecms, that in drawing (o per- fect a Hero, I hit upon Virtues which were re- markable in an ilkiilrious Charader of the pre- fent Age. ^at how was it pofTible to drefs up my Hero in any extraordinary Virtues, with- out having fome of thofe to be found in that illuftrious Charadter that is full of every Ex- cellence in Nature? Yet this it is that has gjven Oftence to thefe two worthy Gentlemen, I not, [ i?7 1 not, I hope, out of the Diftates of their owa Senfe and Judgment, but in Complaifance to the capricious Nicenefs of fome great Men, who are willing to have their Zeal taken notice on, for ilretching of it beyond the Bounds of Juftice and Reafon ; for Hugo and Addo are both ac- quainted with my Devotion to that illuflrious Charader, and the Suftenngs I have undergone, and ftill do undergo, for my Attachment to him, when many, that are now clamorous on this Ac- count, were afham'd or afraid to appear in his Caufe : This would be enough, one would think, to convince them that I could not be cri- minal in my Intentions \ and therefore, that whatever Judgment might be made of the Wri- ting, I do not deferve to fuffer fo grievous a Punifiiment as the lofs of their Favour= Befides, there is nothing in the Fad itfelf that will bare a Parallel. My Heroine is Young, Beau- tiful, paffionately Fond, and yet Unfortunate ; Qualities neceflfary to produce thofe paffionate Letters which I propofe to write : The Lady whom my Enemies would fuppofe to be meant, is neither Young, Paifionate nor Unfortunate, and therefore could never be in my Thought when I drew the former. But fuch is the Tyranny that rules all Men, who either have, or exped to have, any great Poft, that they muft rejeft even the moil; Inno- cent, if his Misfortune make him obnoxious to the Surmifes of the Men \x\ Power. This, in fhort, is my Fate with Hugo and Addo^ unlefs there be at the Bottom another Caufe, which I am very unwilling to lay at the Door of Men of their acknowledg'd good Qualities \ and that \5^ that they grow weary of a Perfon, whofe Necef- [i^n Neccflities compel him too frequently to kck their AfTiflance, without any Profped of that Intereft of their Services, which the Cunning of this World lay out all their Favours in ; Age, Sicknefs, Lamenefs, and Blindnefs, are too for- bidding to engage Men of fo fertile a Principle. But whatever be the Caufe, unlefs that which I formerly mentioned, I am confident this is not fo with Addo and Hugo ; they are Men of too much Senfe and Goodnefs to be guided by thefe mean Confiderations ,• and tho' Vm extreamly troubrd at the unhappy Event, I am ftill entirely igno- rant of that which produc'd it : But I muft do with this, as with all other Misfortunes I can- not help, endeavour to forget a Lofs that I can- not retrieve. The only Comfort I have in this Jundure, is, to find that I am not indifferent to you, which hinders me from being entirely un- happy, fince I can write myfelf Tour Jincere Friend^ And Servant^ Carlo Amontesociq.' ^ c 139 ] LETTER VL Againfl Aiiarice, Quid mn mortalia feBora cogis Auri facra fames ? • • To the mofl Honourable — — ~ of -^~^--t My Lord, YO U do me too much Honour, in requi- ring my Advice on a Subjed (o publick and political as your Letter mentions. *Tis true, I have been a fore of an Underling m publick Affairs, during a late Adminiftration : feut, my Lord, we mov'd by Prmciples fo very different from thofe which now obtain, that my Advice, in this Particular, would be to no man- ner of purpofe i yet I cannot lofe this Opportu- nity of giving your Lordfhip fome Advice, which more particularly regards yourfelf. I know that Noblemen, as well as Kings, are not fond of hearing Truth, efpecially when it at- tacks their Inchnationsj and every Man has fuch a Referve of Pride and Self-opinion, that he cannot eafily bear to hear his Conduct cen- fur'd, as if that brouglit his Underftanding m queftion, or rather condemn'd his favourite Ac- tions, with fo evident a Juftice, that his Under- itanding could not complain of the Verdift. '" ■■ I am [ 140 3 I am fenfible that your Lord/hip's UnderAan- ding is perfeftly good, that your fine Tafte in the politer Arts is very uncommon, which makes me the more willing to remove that Blemifli, which alone does fully your Character ; I mean. that Auri facra fames, which is but too vifibly the Canker that eats up your Reputation, tho' I look upon Avarice to be to the Mind what the Gout is to the Body, a Malady that the Phyfi- cians and the Philofophers have not yet been able to find out any Remedy for, at Icafl, To far as to work a perfed Cure,- yet there have been Me- dicines that have render'd the Fits more tole- rable, and lefs frequent and lading. This, I am Cure, has been true in the Gout j and I think I have known fome Inftances where it has not been lefs fo in Avarice i that is, I have known fome Men, whofe Minds have been fufficiently infeded with this Diftemper, flruggle up, upon Occafion, to Adions truly generous ^ but whe- ther this has been the Efled; of fome fliort Pre- valence of a contrary Virtue, or the more to gratify that Vice by fome future Profped, which that fliort Deviation into Generolity drew more near, and gave them a better Opportunity of gratifying their darling Vicq; let the Motive be which it will, it is certain, that the Adion is always beneficial to the Reputation of him that does it; and therefore, tho' the Pcrfon may not deferve the Name of a generous Man, he will certainly merit that of a prudent Man. Avarice is like Envy, odious to all Mankind, and deny'd even by thofe who are the greatefl Slaves to it i yet whilft they are afiiam'd to avow the Folly, that Shame is not flrong enough to prevail with them to avoid it. Avarice, [ 141 1 Avarice, tho' it propofes to thofe who are guilty of it their Advantage and Intereft, yet in publick Charafters there is nothing more in- jurious to them ,• for when fuch a Man is known to be avaricious, every one is upon his Guard againft him ; nor will any one apply to him, but fuch as his immediate Pofl obliges to it. If your Lordfliip be a Perfon who value your Reputation, and the Efteem of Mankind, you muft avoid this Vice with your utmoft Care ; or, at leaft, difguife it fo artfully as to hide the viCible Tokens of it. I cannot but think that your Lordfhip has a Defire of being diftinguifli'd from the common bulk of Mankind; whence elfe thofe Titles of Dignity, with which the Crown has adorn'd you ? But, my Lord, Titles are of very little Confequence to the Perfon who pofTefTes them, and makes a very fmall Ad- vance in the Efteem of the World, unlefs the Virtue and Perfedions of that Perfon be as ex- alted as his Titles : But it would be a hard Matter to perfuade the World, that a Perfon, by what Title foever dignify'd, can merit our Efleem when guilty of Avarice ; for that Vice obliges its Slaves to fuch little and mean At- tempts, as muft render them contemptible ; and whereever there is Contempt, it is impoflible there Ihould be Refped and Honour. Your Lordfhip is a Man of Reafon, and therefore fiiould be fuppos'd to have fome regard to that in the Condud of your Life ; but Reafon is the greateft Enemy that can be to Avarice, that al- ways propofes fome Aim or End that brings, or contributes to, a real Happinefs ,* but Avarice is not only accompanied with a perpetual Care and Pain, and inexpreffible Fear and Solicitude, but t Hi ] but nevci* arrives at any End, but is always purfuing, with a fruitlefs Anxiety, what it is lure never to enjoy. I confefs that Happinefs confifts in Opinion, and that its Objeft is not the fame in all Men ; but then you muft allow me, that every Man who purfues a Happinefs, purfues, at leaft, the Enjoyment of fome par- ticular Objed, the Pofl'effion of which makes amends for all the Pains and Fatigues he has gone through to obtain it ; but the avaricious Man feeks Riches, not to enjoy them, that is, not to make ufe of thofe Pleafures, and that Satisfaftion, for which their PoflefTion is only valuable ;. for a mere Heap of Gold and Silver is of no more confequence, than as much Lead or Iron. I do not forget the Anfwer made by a Mifer, to one who told him, that he took all that Pains to rake his Riches together, only to enable his Son \.o fquander them away. Let him (fa id he)' I^ut I defy him to fpend them vjith half the Pkaf:re that I got them. But, my Lord, this was a falfc Boaft of the wretched Mifer j for it was plain, by his whole Life and Conver- fation, that he never knew what Pleafure was ; and that the only Benefit he could reap by all his Gain, was only to ^ivo. a tranfitory Eafe to his Pain, a fiiort Relief or flaking of his Thirfl, which immediately returns upon him more vio- lently, or a poor penurious Meal to the moft voratious Appetite ; and you might as well tell me, that the Man who feels a perpetual Hunger and Thirlt enjoys Pleafure and Happinefs, as that a Mifer, who perpetually covets more, finds a Felicity in unUtisfy'd Defire. All our Paflions, which are the Source of our Pleafure as well as our Pain, propofe fome End, fome Objedj C 145 1 Objeft, which obtaiiiM, they reft from Purfulr,' and poflefs it with Pleafpre ; but Avarice is a fort of Fox-Chace for Life, where you are fure never to come at the Quarry But, my Lord, I begin to refleft that I am talking againft the acute Pains of the Gout, to a Perfon labouring under the Violence of that Diftemper ; all I can fay will not lefl'en the Anguifh ; and all my Re- fleftions are of little Confequence to that Gout of the Mind Avarice, which Heaven alone can cure, and a wife Man allay j and your Lordfhip's Wifdom gives me hopes, that if you cannot work a perfed Cure on yourfelf, you will, at leaft, make the Evil tolerable by your prudent Conduft, and the intermixing fuch A<5ls of Ge- nerofity, as may conceal your Diftemper from the Publick. However, I hope your Lordfliip will be fo candid as to believe, that all I have faid in this Letter has been the Effed of my Defires to ferve you, and to prove that I am. My Lordj Tour Lordjhip^s mofl humble Seyvam^ J. MlLTpN< [ 144] / :^^:i c^ia??^ a«?^ t^®^ i^c^^, LETTER VIL The reciting Foctafter» Jbam forte 'viafacray pcut mem ejl mos, Islefcio quid meditans nugarum & totus in illis .* Accurrit quidam notus mihi nomine tantumy &c. To Spondee Dadyl Efq; at his Chambers in the Inner Temple, London. Dear Coufin, I AM glad to hear by your lafl, tliat you are in perted Health, and follow your Studies with the utmoft Application; that is the way, indeed, to arrive at Power and Wealth; for the Study of the Law is the mofl beneficial of any that employ the Mind of Man ; it Hands upon a Bottom that can never fail, as long as Mankind are direded and fet at work by that litigious Temper, which is not likely to ceafe in our Days. But ^iwQ me leave to tell you, that you feem polVefs'd with another Inclination, which appears incompatible with your Study of the Law, I mean your Liclination to Poetry, for I have feen many of your Verfes ; and muft, with the Freedom of a Friend and Kinfman, tell you, you had better flick to Cook upon Little- ton^ than throw away your Time on Virgil and Horacey and Cowley and Spencer^ Milton, Waller and [ H5 ] and Dryden. You may be capable of making a very good Lawyer, and rai%g youffelf and Fa- mily at the Bar, when you may poffibly make but a fcurvy Figure in the Province of Verfe, from whence there is but little to be got to bal- lance the Risk which you run of being thought a mere PoetaHer ; or which is next to it, a bare Verfifier. I own your Numbers are fmooth, and your Didion corred and forcible ; but in all thofe Eilays of yours, which I have feen, I can find little of Defign or Fable, which dif- tingui£h'd the antient Poets from the mere Dab- blers in Verfe : I own you may pleafe the injudi- cious Town by a Smoothnefs of Numbers, and a Pomp of Expreffion ; but thefc are the Verfm impes rerum nugaqus canor^. There is another Folly, I am told, you are ex- treamly guilty of, and which fiiows you to be far gone 'm this Diflemper ,• and that is, yoiir Fond- nefs and Vanity of reciting your Verfes in all Companies; and this, indeed, gives me fome Doubts of your Genius, none having been emi- nent Reciters of their own Works, that ever writ things worthy reciting. Virgil, wlio had the mofl graceful way of reading his own Verfes in the World, never read them in publick, but with the utmoft Reluftance, tho' always certain of Applaufe when he did it ; whereas Famiiusy a Scribbler, defpis'd by all the Men of Senfe in that Time, was the moft diligent Man in the World in forming of Affemblies to read his Per- formances to i and yet it was then a Cuilom for the Poets to recite what they had written in publick; but I believe that Cufiom was foon L worn [14^] Worn out ; for we find Petroui/is Arbiter giving us an Account, that his Poet Eumclpm was pelted with Stones by the very Boys, to make him leave oft" reciting in publick. I have wifh'd before now for the fame Relief, againft a reci- ting Pcetafter of my Acquaintance. Retteau was a Fellow bred to Bufinefs, tho* not without fome little Latiny which he learn 'd when he was a School-Boy. This, and reading Romances, and keeping Company with fome of the under Poets of the Age, had poflefs'd him With the Spirit of Rhiming, fo that it made him as great a Plague to others as Satisfaction to himfelf. If you call'd upon him at his Office, vou would find on one fide of his Desk, the 'l4^afie-Book, Cnjh-Bocky 'Journal^ Leidger., dec. and on the other a Song to Pbillis^ Damons Com- plaint, and many more of that kind ; and let the Bufinefs require never fo much Expedition, i't any one ca.me in who would hear him, it was all laid afide till he had recited the Verfes he had by him ,• and you were never fecure by any Place or Company from his repeating Humour; the Streets and the very Churches were not De- fence enough againfl it. Coming dowA Cheap- fule one Sunday^ jufi: as Chuuch was done, and the Streets crouded with People, I met Retteau; and thinking myfelf pretty fecure, both by the Place and the Time, I bid him good- morrow, which was enough to give him a handle for his plaguing me for at Icaft half an Hour with his Verfes, whip his Hand was m his Pocket, and out comes the Letter-Cafe, replenilh'd with a Cargo of Crambos. 0/;, I a?n glad, faid he, / fjiiz'e met you, I haiie a Curiojjty or txvo to fictx) you, nhhh yet hai:e lUf/dt.he Ejes of very fev: ; the Pro- [ H7 ] dud J I can ajfure yoUy of the tvp Genitalis of thf Age : By which he hop*d to engage my Atten- tion i but if I happen'd to praife them, he took care, before we parted, to let me know they were his own. With much ado I got rid of him for this time ; and when next I met him it was at a Mnfick-Meeting, where, as Toon as the Performance was over, he ftarted from me, much to mySatisfadion, to find that the Plague was defign'd for others and not myfclf; for Reman being, among other ufeful QualiLies, en- dowed with an incomparable Afltirance, feiz'd upon fome of the firft Qtiality, and lugs out his Poetry upon them, not that he had the Honour of being known to them, but the good Luck to know them. The Perfons of Qfiality were pkas'd with his odd Impertinence, and diverted them- felves with his fantaftick Behaviour ,- and the' they plainly laugh'd at all he faid and fhow'd them, yet Retteau imagin'd that he had obtained his End, by making them laugh, tho' on the moft ferious Subject, went oft in Triumph, and overcook me in Tranfport, for I had left the Place before him, for fear of being taken by thofe noble Perfons for a Fool of the fame Magnitude. Tho' all thofe Gentlemen who love to read their ownVerfes, are not equally troublefomc ;-nd impertinent, yet they all are capable of making a Man very uneafy in Company, iince they read not to fubmit their Poem to you for Corredion, but to bribe your Applauie, by rhe Deference they feem to pay to you in admitting you to the hearing of it : Some of them have (o good a Memory, that while you tliink they arc reading they arc only repeating, and employ their Eyes L 2 rg [148] to watch your Countenance, thence to gather your Approbation or Diflike, with a greater Certainty than from your Words : So that all the while one of thefe Poets reads, you muft fet a Arid Guard upon your Looks, or you will be lure to difoblige him in Tpight of all you can fay in his Favour. I would not have you think, by what I have faid, that I am againll: your fhowing your Verfes to a Friend ,• on the contrary, I would never have you part with any, till you have had the Opinion and Correftion of the moil judi- cious of your Acquaintance ; but then leave the Perufal of them to themfelves in their own Clcfets, when they m?.y v. . igh them with Se- datencfs, for few or none can make right Judg- ment of things of this Nature, by a bare Re- cital i for the Reciter either gives them a ( arace in the Repetition, which they have not in th;,'m- {dvf^s ; or elfe, on the other fide, they make fo bad and ar.kward a Recital, that the Verfes fufter, and feem worfe than really they are. Thefe are feme of the ridiculous Circum- ftances which the Afiedation of writing often expofes a young Man to. Ben jfo/jKfou very well obferves, that he had known many a Man make his Fortune by ufing Poetry as a Miftrefs, but never any one who took it for better and for worfe, and made it his Wit's. 1 am not there- fore againft your writing now and then a Copy of Verlesi becaufe, let their Merit be what they will among the Judicious, they may happen to recommend you to fome Man of Power, who would be thought a Patron of that Art, tho' a fine Tade and a good Judgment in it is fcarce to. be found in Men of that high Station, and 11149] nnd therefore we fee they generally dired their Favours by the Applaufe of the Town, than which there is nothing more falfe and uncertain, as the learned and judicious Ben Johnfon long ago obferv'd, when he tells us that the applaud- ed Poetry of the Age was in reality fo defpi- cably bad, that a Man would not wrap up a wholfome Drug in it. Write therefore Poetry feldom, recite it never, give your whole Mind to the Study of the Law; and by that you may raife yourfelf without cringing to any great Man of them all. This is the hearty, fincere, ^nd friendly Advice of XoU" loving Kinfman, William Wiley. ::i [ 150] THE LOVES O F DON ALONSO Duke of LERMA AND J)onna 0/ympia Dibianchi, Avtata ReUnquere permx. N the Time of Fhiiip III of SfaiM^ Dm Aliii'z.o Duke of Ler?na was Tent Arabanador to Rofne. He was very young for that Pofl, having yet not i'ccn his 3och Year,' but the Great- pefs of his Quality mid the Brightncfs of his Parts, [ I5X ] Parts, joind with tfe Favour of his King, eafi- ly fupply'd that Det'ed. He was in his Perfea very graceful, in his Countenance there fhonc ;i lovely Man.ljjiels, his Eyes were quick and piercing, his Stature tall, and his Inclinations amorous ; all which together made him very fiiccefsful with the Fair Sex. Donna Olympia was about eighteen Years ot Age, very beautiful, and married to an old Huf- band ; yet behavM herfelf with that Conduft and Virtue, till flie faw Don Alonz,o, that flie gave entire Satisfaction to her Husband, and fc- cur'd herfelf againft all the Cenfures of the Kla- licious. The only Places where the Women have any tolerable liberty in thefe Countries are the Churches , which makes them more fre- quented by the Ladies than otherwife they would be, being the Scenes where the begmning of moft of their Amours are afted. There hap- pen'd about this Time to be a great Solemnity performed at the Church of Santa Maria Mu([gi~ ore, to which a plenary Indulgence had invited a great Ccncourfe of People, among u-^hom was Don Alonzo and Donna Qlyitipia : The Spama. d came not fo much oui: of Devotion to the Pioly Virgin, as out of hopes of hnding fome new Ad- venture with fome fair Votary of hers. Donna Olympia^ indeed, it we may judge by her pall: Ac- tions, came not with any Earthly Intentions, but was drawn thither by the cogent Superftition of the Day and of the Place. As flic paif by Don A/onzOyhc was extreamly taivCn with the fine Mien and Shape of her Pcrlbn, but her Face was hid with her Veil : However, he order'd one of his Attendants to watch her Home when flie went out, and chat the more eagerly, becaufe as {lie paft L 4 by [ I50 by his Stand, fhc took care artfully to throw alide her Veil fo far, as to give Ujm a Sample of the Beauties conceal'd by it ; for when ihe came in, the Charms of Don Aknz,o had fo fir'd her Breaft, that fhe hop'd by this Difco- very to engage his Purfuit. The Mellengcr Don Alonz.0 fent to follow her Home, brought him Word, that fhe was the Wife of one Seignior Dihianchi a Rich and Miferly Roman Banker, and that her Name was Donna Ol)7npia; adding, that he thought (he was one of the moH: beautiful Women that ever he beheld in his Life, which he difcover'd by an Accident as Ihe paft along i for the Wind being pretty flrong, at the fudden turning of a Street, blew her Veil quite off from her Face. This new De- fcription of the Beauty of Olympia by his Ser- vant added to the Eagernefs of tlie Dnke, to begin an Amour from which he promised him- felf fo much Pleafure. He was not negligent of improving every Moment to the advantage of his Paffion i he therefore, upon enquiry of his Agents, found that the Family was entirely ^vern^d by an old ill-natur'd, covetous Govemame, to whofe Conduft the old Gentleman entirely confided the Guardianfhip of his Spoufe's Honour ; fo that Don Aloi2Zo believed, that if he could gain the Goveraante to his Interell", he fliould not mifs that Succcfs which he delir'd in his Amour; and the only way to do this, he knew, was to gra- tify her predominant PafTion of Avarice ; and this was managed by his Agent with that Ad- drefs, that what by fomc ready Gold, and Pro- mifes of Mountains upon the Succefs, he en- tirely gain'd the Gczsmante into his Mailer's In- pereft ; with a Ptpmire to deliver a Letter to her^ her, and plead fo heartily for Don Alonzo with her, that fhe could not but prevail. The next Day Don Alonz.o took care to ride out of Rome, attended by a noble Train of Ser- vants j he took Dihiamhis Houfe in his Way both coming and going. The Go'vernante being informed of his Defign of paffing that Way, took care to place Olympia in one of the Windows, where Ihe might fee and be feen. Don Alonzo made one of the moft graceful Figures on Horfeback in the World ; and Olympia, ii' ftie was fmitten before, was now entirely enllav'd by this fecond View ; nor was Alonz-o lefs in Love with her, by having fo full a Sight of her Face and Per- fbn. The Governante took care to praife the Spanh ard to a Degree above what any Mortal Man, could deferve, and to try all the Ways that a cunning old Woman could contrive, to infinuate a Paffion into the Breaft.of fo tender and young a Creature. Ohnpi/i.yi^a.s fecretly pleased, to find her an Advocate for her Lover, whom flie before apprehended would prove the ^greateft Obilacle to their Happinefs ; but how agree- able foever this Diicovery was to her, fhe took care to conceal her S^iiisfadion, and to put oil an Air of Coidnefs or Indifxcrence to all theGc- vemante {aid to her on this Subjed. As foon as Don AIonz,o came LIcme, alj trans- ported with what he, had feen; he fethimfelf down to his ScruLorei, -and. w.iote the following Letter. '•"::■) LET- C 154 ] LETTER I. Alonzo to the Charming Olympic." TH E Excefs of your Beauties, which liave fo entirely vanquifli'd the ftubborn Heart of Alonz^Oy and made me of the coldcfl of Man- kind, the warmeft and moft pailionate Lover m the World, is the only thing which comforts mc in my Diftrefs; for furely fhe who excels all other Women in Beauty, muft likewife tranfcend them in Compaflion j for Nature would have given you thcfe Charms, of which you are Mif- trefs, to no manner of purpofe, unlefs fhe alfo fupply'd a Will to cure thofe Wounds they make ; wnlefs fbe taught you the Juftice of rewarding a faithful Lover, why (hould fte give you the Power of making one ? That I am fuch a one you may eafily believe, from confulting your own Charms in your Glafs ,• they will tell you, that it is impoilible to fee them without the higheft Love and Defire : But Olympias Power over me began even before I was bleft with 2 Sight of her Eyes j her very Perfon was (\.\?^- cient to alarm my Heart, and breed that Dif- quiet, which has never left me fince I iirfl faw you pafs by me in the Church : Yes, fair Olympia, your Empire o'er me began by rivaling fJea- ven itfelf, and turning all my Prayers to the blefled Virgin, and the Angels and Saints, into Wifhes, diredcd all to the Earthly Angel before me. me. But wlign I had a full View of your Pcrfedions in my Cavalcade, I was entirely loft in a Paflion, deflin'd by my Stars, either for my exceflive Happinefs or Mifery. Yes, bright Olympia^ my Love is too ftrong to admit any middle State ; Happinefs or Mifery is my Lot, and that dear tender Bofom muft decide which is to be my Portion. I iinow, alas! too well, that you are another's ; but I know at the fame time, that it was not your Choice which made him Mafter of a Treafure, which he can nei- ther know nor enjoy ; for to know and enjoy fuch a Treafure as Olpnpa iSj a Man muft be Young, Generous and Brave, and have a good Portion of Senfe : But Dibianchi is Old, Avari- cious and Bafe, without Senfe enough to fea- fon him from a Fool i fure thefe are Qiialities that can never render him dear to Olympia. Your Relations made no fcruple to facrifiice you to the Wealth of a Mifcr, and by that Means to cut you off from all the Pleafures that Youth and Gaiety require -, and will you contribute to the Curfe they impos'd on you, and not liftcn to a Lover, who is ready to venture every thing to enlarge you from fo unworthy an Im- prifonment, and bring you acquainted with thofe Raptures of Love, which you only can infpire and receive ? this Juftice requires of you, both as to you and me. If you hear not my Prayer, you make me the moft miferable of Men; fo miferable, that to bear it would be a Proof both of my want of Love and Refo- lution : No, Olyjnpia, you may aflure yourfelf, ^lut without your Pity Alon^o is no more. This [ 156 ] This Letter was fent to the Govermnte, and by her deliver'd to Olympia ; who, tiio' fhe de- fir'd to read it with the utmoft Impatience, yet fhe fufter'd the Covemante to prefs her with abundance of Earneflnefs, before fhe would con- fent to perufe it ; and yet more Arguments to get her to return an Anfwer. At lafl (he took Pen and Ink, and made this Reply. L E T T E R II. Olympia to Alonzo. My Lord, IT is with fome Reluftance, and a great deal of Importunity from your Advocate, that I prevail with myfelf to make any An- fwer to your Letter. It is a fort of Crime in a Married Woman, to read any Letter from a Stranger,- but I fear it is making myfelf a Partner in your Guilt, by taking fo much Notice of a Declaration of Love, as to fend any Anfwer at all to it, tho" it be a Denial. However, perhaps fo much may be due to your Quality, as to let you know, that your cri- minal Suit is here to no manner of purpcfe ; for tho' my Husband be Old, and perhaps not entirely free from thofe Defects you imagine in him ; yet my Virtue, I hope, is fufficient to fecure his Repofe. You tell me I am Young and C 157 ] and .;.?.rmlng, and would you therefore endea- ivonr to roo me of my principal Charm, Vir- ra<: ? wiiiiout the Guard of which, all thofe Beauties, which you are pleas'd to tell me I have, would be no more than the Charms of a Proftitute; a thing, which I am co.ihdent could never move a M^in of fo fine a Tailc as Don Alonzo i and there is but little Hopes of your Conltancy, when you would rob me of that very thing which is the chief Caufe of your Love : Trouble me, therefore, with no more Letters on fo hateful a Subjed -, not that I am angry at the Paffion that a Man of AIonz.o's Parts and Qualities tells me he has for me, for we all take Pleafure in being bclov'd, at leaft, in thinking that we are fo, even in an Age, when Mens Profeffions are not to be weighM by their Words. But if your Love be more than Words, prove it by your Silence ; and not feek by my Unhappinefs to eafe your own Difquiet. O L y M P I Av AlotTZo ^^as very well pleas'd that he had ob- tained any Anfwer at all ; for tho' Ihe feem'd to rejeft his Paffion, he perfwaded himfelf that flie could not have done more than fhe did on his firft Addrefs. He therefore wrote her this fol- lowing Letter. LET- [158] LETTER III. Fair O L Y M p I A, YOUR Anfwer to my lafl gave me a great deal of Plcafure, as well as a great deal of Pain. A Letter coming from thofe dear charming Hands, could not but afford an infinite Satisfadion to a Man that loves like Alonz.o. I gave it ten thoufand Kifles, and plac'd it in my Bofom near my Heart, where it lay all the pafl Kight, and inrich'd my Slumbers with fuch Dreams, fuch tranfporting Viiioiis, whofe Rap- tures can be equal'd with nothing but Ol^mfia herfelf. But then, when the Morning Sun had made my Room light enough to return to the Perufal of your Letter, my paft Joys found a fevere Check from your Refentment of my pafl Conduft, and thofe Obftacles which you rais'd againft my future Happinefs, by making it in- compatible with your own : No, fair Olymfiay could I be fatisfied, that my Love could be any ways injurious to your Felicity, I would fooner undergo ten thoufand Deaths, than to attempt the Satisfaction of my Love any farther i but why muft my PafTion be fo fatal to you ? or how, indeed, can it be fo ? You fay it is to rob you of your principal Beauty, your Virtue; but is it impofTible that two can Love, and yet be innocent ? and if that can be, what (hould make mine more criminal than any others ? I fear [ 159 ] fear you take Virtue in too rigorous a Senfe ; fare you might admit both my Letters and my Vilits without any detriment to it. I only de- fire to tell you of my Love, to convince you that I am entirely your Slave, and therefore ab- folutely under your Command in all my Ac- tions ; (o that you can never be unfafe in the Company of that Man, who only lives and moves juft as you fhall order it. If, after all, you perfift in this unmerited Cruelty ; I {hall foon convince you by my Death, that none ever lov'd fo well as A L o N z o. His Agent took care, as foon as Opportunity offer'd, to deliver this Letter to the Governante, who had brought Olympia by this time to own that Alonzo was not indifierent to her; but fhe could not prevail with her to write him any more Letters, becaufe fhe did not by any Means think it proper, to give a Confeffion of her Love under her own Hand ; fo that for the fu- ture all was manag'd by Meflages, till Olympia gave her Confent that he fhould come and pay her a Vifit, which by Dibianchi's Abfence ztFref- cati, they had a lucky Opportunity of effefting. All People at Rome are like their Leaders, Mer- cenary, and will do any thing for Money j ac- cordingly, Alonz.o's Agent had brib'd a Carter, who generally brought Meal and Corn to Dibian- chis Granaries, to convey Alonz.0 in like a Mil- ler ; and from the Granaries, with fome Diffi- culties and fome Danger too, he mounted up in- to , Oljinpias Apartment, who was not a little pleas'd [ i<^o ] pleasM and diverted at the Sight. Bat (he foori furnifii'd him with a rich Night-Gown ; which he, having cafl: afide his Miller's Habit,clapt about him. Whether thefe young Lovers talk'd only of Platonick Love, and were as careful of tJieir Virtue, when together, as when afunder, I Ihall not pretend to determine ; I fhall only fay this, that they found out fcveral Ways and Means of Meeting tog^'ther, as often as poffibly they could, till the Time was now come, that Alon- Z.0 was preparing for his Departure for Spain, which ga\e Doinia Olmpia no fmall Concern for the approaching Lofs of a Lover, who fhe va- lued more then her Honour or her Life. For flie preil: Don AIcutlo very earneftly to take her with him j but he, v/hofe Paffon was not quite fo mad as hers, did all he could to perfwade her againft fo wild a Refolution, but could not pre- vail j but on folemn Promifc, either to return again to Royne^ or make fuch Provifion for her Reception in Spain, as might render her Jcurney thither lefs dangerous than now it would be. But whether Alonz.o ever intended anj' fuch thing or not, or whether he grew tir'd of an Amour which promis'd him nothing new ,• or laflly, whe- ther the new Grandeur and great Poll, to which he arrivM foon after his Return to Spain, banifli'd all the lighter Thoughts of Love, I know not. But Olympias Impatience being proportioned to her Love, made her write him the following Let- ter into Spain. L E T- [ i6i ] y '< yz sy'ic y^ y^ y/j y-j y-i y-i y^ y^ y^ s'k y^ y ^ .vx y^ yi y^ y i y^ v -^ k4^>;4^>;4^;.4^v;#>;4 k#A.4k%;c!J^4J;.4 J^.0;.^^;>^5v%A4?i;.4 k^?-;.^)^^?.;^ LETTER IV. Donna Olympia to Don Alonzo Duke cf Lernia. IT is now three Months, Alonz.o, fince you left Rome^ full of Vows antl Proteftations of eternal Conftancy ; and Oaths, that as I was entirely Miftrefs of your Heart, you would omit no Opportunity of Writing to me, and of preparing ail Things ready for my Journey to your Arms. Oh I Alonz.0^ are all thefe Vows, all thefe Oaths already forgotten ? do you re- member no more the Pains and Agonies, in which you left the unhappy Oly?npia ? you fure once did Love me, for it was impoffible that Man could be fo exquilite a Diflbmbler, to fain all that Love, which every Adtion and Word of yours feem'd full of If there had been no real Faffion in all you faid and did, remember out laft Parting ; it feems prefent to me even now, the* Tears gufti afrefli from my Eyes, a'nd the Agonies of my Heart are too flrong to fuffer me to go on without a Paufe • When I fell on the Floor, and fwoon'd fo often away that you defpair'd even of my Life then ; yes, even then I was not without fome Comfort, for when ever I lifted up my Eyes, I had the Pieafure td find the viiible Symptoms of all my Agonies m dear Alonz,us Countenance, and which promised a (incere Partner in my Fate if I had then expir'd. M Ohl ii6% i Oh ! that I had, then had I not fufter'd more difmal Pangs in my Doubts of Alonz,o's Conflan- cyi then I had only tclt the Pangs of Death, and fcarce thofe, whilil I was breathing my Soul into Alonz,o's Arms ; but now I feel the Pangs of the Death of Love, which can never be known in their full Height by any one who Loves with lefs Ardour than Oljinpia. But is it pofTible that Alonzo can be falfe ? is it poiTible that he fliould think no more of Olympia ? for- give my Fears, I would not be unjull to Alonz,o; perhaps he may have written to Olympia^ tho' the dear Letter never came to my Hand. Spain is a great Way off, and a thoufand Accidents might intercept the wifli'd for BlefTing without his Fault -, and yet three Months are gone, and not one Word have I heard from him. Were he that true, that conftant Alonzo I once thought him, he would let no Day pafs without Wri- ting fomething to me, nor any Hour flip by him, without thinking of me ; and fure one ot all thofe Letters might have come to my Hands ; but none, none, not one, not a Line, not a Word, proves beyond Controverfy, that my Alonz.0 is falfe or dead. Oh ! that it were the latter; for fuch is the Extravagance of Aiy PaT- fion, that I had rather he were dead than falfe ,• Dc*ath fliould foon unite i\s, but Falfliood fepa- rates us for ever. You will find by my Letter the Diftradtion of my Mind ; if you have any Compaffion left for me, whofe Compaffion for you has undone me, fend me a Letter of your Truth ; pretend at leail to Conftancy, and form fome Excufe for your Silence and long Negled of all your Vows and Oaths, that I may not curfe my Credulity, in a Man without Faith and and Honour : Cruel Reflection, difficult: Task^ to think ill of the Man whom I once have lov'd. Remove my Doubts and confirm my Pain, by telling me that you Love no more ; for even that terrible Certainty would be lefs tormenting than the State of Sufpence ; and it would be Ihorrer, for it would immediately put an end to the Life of O L Y M P I A. Olympin took care to have this Letter convey 'd by a particular Friend, who was then going to Madrid, and promised to take care that it fhould certainly be delivered into the Duke's own Hands. In a few Days after, it was all the News of Rome, that the Duke of Lerma was in very great Favour and Power with the King his Mafter j which, added to his Silence, made Olymfia conclude, that fiie was entirely banifli'd from his Thoughts , which was confirmed ixv about a Month's Time, by a Letter from the very Perfon who carried hers. Which informed her, that immediately upon his Arrival at Ma- dridy he had found Means to prefent the Letter to the Duke himfelf ; but that all the Reply he had, was, Ah ' poor foolifh Woman i which News threw Olympia into a Fever, in which flie was in imminent danger ot* lofing her Life. Her Husband, old Dibianchij omitted no Charge in the beft Phyficians to procure her fome Relief. It is the Cuftom in Rome and all over ha- /y, that the elder Phyfician always takes fome young Student in Phyfick with him to his Pa- tients ; and there, by fliowing him the real M % Symp- [ i^0|..«^o|^o|.o^Q|5»q}?0{?0] I. Do not, Celinda, fear my Flame, Nor dread myguiltlefs Paffioni It is, I fwear, as free from Blame, As 'cis from Alteration. n. It does no folid Favours want To feed the conilant Flame ; Jho' not one Look, or Smile you grant, ^ k will be ftill the fame. IIL The Sun, you fee, without Supply, Is always bright and glowing, Whilft Earth-born Fires con fume and die, Frelh Fuel none bellowing. IV, [ 1^9 ] IV. This juft the Difference is betwixt Me and a vulgar Lover, Self-Intereft with his Flames is mixt, I yours alone endeavour. V. Think how your Guardian- Angel loves, Whofe hovering Wings proteft you ; Who by his gentle Care removes All Ills that would aiflid you. yi. Nightly defends your foft Repofe, Makes Cares and Dangers fly it ; Your balmy Bofom guards, from Woes,' That would difturb your Quiet. VII. Yet for this Care no equal Hire He ever bids you give him. All the kind Genius does require,' Is only to believe him. [ 190] A BALLAD T O Mrs. CATHARINE FLEMING A T T H E Lord DIGBY's in W ar wic ks h iri. The Tune : To aS you Ladies mw at Land. I. TO Coles-Hill Seat of Noble Peer My Verfe I will convey ,- For what fhou'd Wit or Verfe do here Now Fleming is away ? Whilft Scud'more in the Country lieSy We've here no Ufe of Hearts or Eyes. With a/rt, la, la, ta, la, &c. II. At Comat round an ample Board, Our Gallants pafs their Time; Content or not Contents the Word, A Language moft fublime 1 But great Expence we fave of Parts, By Hearts and Clubs, and Clubs and Hearts. With a/«, la, laJa, la, &c, IIL III. Our Theatre of ufeful Joys, (Through Bens and Shake/pear's Wit) Breeds now but one continu'd Noife Of Laugh from Box and Pit. Whilft in the Air light Tumblers fly 0*er Man and Boy two Stories high.' With Sifa, la, la, la, la, &c. IV. The Mafquerades by Show divert. But no more Humour know. No more engage the Head or Heart,' Or more enliven'd grow. Than if from all the Signs in Town," Nuns, Turks and Saracens, came down.' With Sifa, la, la, la, la, &c. y. Leone's wafted o'er the Seas,' Alas 1 why went he hence ? Beneath whofe Roof we met at Eajfe^ And foftly whifper'd Senfe. But there's a Plot divulged ^rom Spain, And Cellamare's a Fool in Grain. With Si fa, la, la, la, la, &c. VI. That Englijh Opera's are fung. Is owing to your Flight ; And that each Inftrument's fet wrong, Which us'd to give Delight. Then [ 19^ ] Then come and our low Genius raife ^Who figh for you in moving Keys. With a fa, la, la, la, la, &c. VII. Our Officers (of old refin'd. And courtly to the Fair, In whom both Love and Spirit join'd To form the double Snare) Now only fliow what they'd be at. By fierce Cockcade and Bully-Hat, With a fa, la, la, la, la, &c. viii. Our Senators upon the Sacks, As Party guides, debate ; And if they one another vex. No matter for the State ; Whilft Peace or War is not the Doubt, But who's in Place, or who's kept our. With a fa, la, la, la, la, &c. IX. The Commons all their Work have done. And now will foon be gone ; To Shillings two they've added one. Which lay their Land upon. But whilft th'unwilling Grant they fix. They growl out three, and drink out fix. With a p, la, la, la, la, &c. X. Your [ipn X. Your Antiquary flill proceeds To fpy through Ages paft ; And if it too your Fancy feeds,' To know what's found at laft. We've eight-fquare Keys to Saxon Locks^ And Alfred's Apopledick Box, With a/?, la, la, la, la, &c, XL In Street of Arlington I fpend Each Week one pleafing Day y And in the Evening with my Friend At ferious Omhe play. But when I fhould -be mindful, fliU I think of you, and lofe Codille. With a fa, la, la, la, la, &c, Xll. Thus whatfoe er we do or fay This Ballad does rehearfe : How dull we are, how oddly gayj I've told you all in Verfe ,• TJnlefs I to the Court fhou'd come. But of the Court no more but MumJ With a /^, la, la, la, la. Q [ ^94 1 THE FABLE O F AUMILLUS, AND The STATUE oi V E N U S. By t! k I l l I g r e rv. BY Phidias Hand the Cyprian Queen wasrais*d, And in Apollo s facred Temple prais'd^ >iext to the Dame, for wliom the Piece was done, Divinely bright the Parian Statue ftione : The wondring Multitude around it throng. And reverend Worfhip pay in pious Song. Whiift thus tlic Crowd the beauteous Form ador'd, Whofe little Souls forac trifling Boon implor'd, Sublimer Thoughts AumiSus'Brcsifk infpir'd, Hefaw, then lov'd, and more than Heav'n defir'd. The Gods wou'd breath into that Marble Frame Celeftial Warmth to meet his fiercer Flame. Wild was his Wi(h, as vain were all his Prayers,^ The Gods were deaf to Sighs^iJi Vows & Tears, ^ As are the Great to the Unhappv's Cares : ^ His ii9n His Frenzy rag*d, as his fond Hope grew lefs,^ I mufl, ye Powers, or dk^ or elfe poflefs! ' > And fince, too cruc!, yeVe re/us'd to blefs, j Almighty Love fliall eafe my dying Moan, And ardent Kifles animate the Stone. This faid, he wing'd with eager Paffion flew, f And round her Neck liis Arms impatient threw, *> There kifsM and prefs*d, and to the Image grew, y Till all intranc*d, he dreamt the Marble warm. Then bath'd it o'er with Love's luxurious Balm; Nature exhaufted by delufive Joy, Sunk at her Feet was found the panting Boy. The envious Priefts, who firft the Scene difclos'd. Ten thoufand Deaths in various Shapes proposed. Till one more wife, not merciful, there was. Said, As his Crimes did e'en the Damn'd furpafs. The unerring Oracle fhou'd be explored To learn the Will of Heaven's oftended Lord. Approv'd his Counfel, and his Perfon chofe. As their Ambaflador with fpeed he goes; And all the Charmer in his Looks he wears, Whilft to the Shrine he the black Deed declares: Then waits an Anfwer with fad down.TcaftEyes; When to him thus the Delphian God replies ; His Crimes fevereft Vengeance has deferv'd. And therefore 'tis his Life muft be preferv'd» Doom'd for this Statue evermore to burn, To doar, and (i\c, and figh, without Return, No Tortures equal he in Hell can prove. This is the Sentence of All-knowing Jo-ve. If then, fair Maid, the Angry Pow'rs above Cou'd find no Thunder for prefumptuous Love, By half fo hot a Paffion, fond and vain. Ah ! think, with Heaven, my Sin fufficient Pain. And fince for Love, you fay, I mufl not live. At leaft permit a Wretch to wifli and grieve. O 2 THE [i9<5] THE GARDEN OF ADONIS: O R, LOVE to no Purpofe. Omnia Vimit Amor LETTER I. To the falfe Boafier. UngeheroHi Touth, E C A U S E you are deny 'd my Arms; you proudly would pretend you never lov*d, and will own a FalP hood rather than the Force of my Charms. The Addrefs, on any fcore, was highly criminal ; but ii 'twas bare Pretence, w% |UM| 1 Q] [ w ] pretence, the Affront's unpardonable. Had you ftill pleaded Love, it would have leflen*d my Refentmencs, for Love will force his Vaffals on to do a thoufand indifcreet indecent things, fills the Imagination with Defires and Hopes equal- ly extravagant and vain j in thefe wild Tranf- ports Reafon is contemned, as the impertinent Allayer of our Joys. Love's brighter Rays gild all the fpacious Way, he places before the raptured Lovers Eyes foft Languifhments, tender Amufements and exalted Pleafuresj till dazled with the Ihining Scene, he fees not the Snare beneath, tho' Guilt and Shame lie ready to involve him ; but foon as awakened from the fond glittering Dream by full Pofl'efTion, or fe- vere Defpair, he itzs the Folly of enthufiaflick Dotage, thinks he's grown wife, and vCws to love no more,- nay, vainly would evade what once he glory 'd in. Had Love, infatuating, irre- (iillcfs Love, been urg'd in your Defence, when you was fo juftly repulsed ; I might have par- doned fo kind a Miflake, and laid the Blame on Fate; but fince you fay 'twas only Curiofity, know I can no more believe you than forgive you. 05 [198] L E T T E R II. To the fame, WH Y am I again forced to tell you, that I fee thofe that would make a Virtue of NecefTity, and have the Refults ot Defpair pafs for thofe of Prudence, have as little Succefs in the Attempt, as Truth in the Pretence ? And to intimate your Paflion was not real, argues your Manners in the Retreat, as little as your Modefly in the Addrefs ; and is the only Way you could have took to make yourfelfeternally odious. But the Evafion has no Force with me ; Too well Tm skill'd in Love to be deceived, too confcious of my own Charms to think they wanted Force to conquer your eafy Breaft. Yes, yes, you lo- ved, and would at iirft, in vain, have hid your Weaknefs ; but watchful I fpyM the new Dawn of infant Paflion glow on your Checks, and fparkle in your Eyes : I faw you flruggling with the growing Flame, as if your better Genius urged you to fupprefs it, telling you 'twas guilty Madnefs, and unpitied Ruin : But maugre all the threatning Dangers, you would flill love on, doated on my Shape, my Mien, my Voice, while every thing I faid and did, gave you unequall'd Pleafure. In your kind faithful Eyes I read the (ilent Secrets of your Soul ; whene'er Philander kifs'd or prefs*d my Hand, your very Looks pro- nounced you thought him blefs'd, and wilh'd yourfelf the dear accepted Man. The Bufinefs of [ ^99 ] of your Life was to oblige me, and make your felt beloved ; and every Art you ufed to yt\\ your Tendernefs, difcover'd it the more to my dd^ctmr ing Eyes ; for flifled Sighs, too frequent BIuQies, and diforder'd Looks, confefs'd your Paflion. Thus many harmlefs foothing Mouths were paft, before yourbafliful Tongue, or trembling Hand, durft boldly own the Lover. Theic nicer Bounds once broke, you talk*d of nought but Joys and Raptures, with fucii kind Ardour prefs'd me m your Arms, and promifed fuch tranfporting Plea- fiires, as might have melted any Breaft but mine y and when repulsed, you'd urge your Suit as Lovers do, and only Lovers can, fnatch me again into your eager Arms, prefs me to your panting wifhing Bofom, and fwear I fhould not leave you till I had made you blefs'd. No com- mon Paflion could excite fuch a wild Fondnefs of forbidden Joys, one calm Refledisn on my Fate had damped a moderate Flame for ever ; but yours was Frenzy all, and now Defpair has fummon'd back your wandring Reafbn, you. would difown your former Follies. B^it why fhould you evade the Truth to me, tq me, the unhappy Witnefs of your tender Faults, and al- moft guilty Tranfports? Impofc upon the World what Faith you pleafe, but do not grate my Ears with cold^ Excufes, and unmanly Falf- hoods, in denying that Love which could be your only Hope for Pardon \ for know our Sex forgives no Faults fo ealily as thofe which Love commits. O4 LETTER [ 200] LETTER III. To A MI NT AS. I Wonder, my Amintas, what Conflruflion you put on my Fondnefs for your Com- pany; it is not, I afTure you, to indulge my Love, but defign'd as a Remedy to fupprefs it ; that by frequent Converfation the Intimacy may take off the Novelty, and, by a natural Refiilr, weaken the Charm: But I find this Conduft don't conduce to my Cure, fo you may Itay away as long as you pleafe ; and afTure your- felf, when ever I fend for you, it won't be in order to hate you ,* for I find, do what I will, that Time is not yet come ; and pray, when you fee me next, tell me you hope it never will ; and if I could really believe you, 'twould be the greatefl Inducement in the World for me to releafe you. But don't let this negligent Rail- lery be thought a Defign to put you on your Guard, or to heighten your Paffion, for I aflure you, I am not (o indifferent as I make for. [iOI ] LETT E R IV. To a Lady upon Teniale Virtue. Madamy SOME Refle(Siori on what we difcours'd laft Night, convinces me there is not in the Univerfe a more amazing Prodigy than an Excefs of Love and Virtue in one Bread j and I think he gave a true Definition of humane Na- ture, who faid Coldnefs of Conftitution, and, confequently, of Defires, was the Source of all Virtue. Yet we flatter ourfelves into an Opinion of our own Prudence ; and Dullnefs or Averfion pafles with us for that, which upon a ftrong Afl'ault we fliould not be able to main- tain. Defed of Temper, fome Difguft to the Perfon, or too freqaent or ne:.r Approaches, which leflen Curioiity, or too great Difficulty of pofleffing : Any one of thefe weaken the Force of Paffion, and abate the Eagernefs of Purfuit. While we, as if Reafon were a Stranger to Nature, perfuade ourfelves thefe Circumftances have no Influence on us, and our Condud is the Eftect of pure Virtue, Tempe- rance, Fortitude, and I know not what. But tell me where is that Prudw who can boaft of Conquefl:, where there is Strength of Inclina- tion, Warmth of Conflitution, and the favour- able Minute of powerful Temptation from the per- [ i02 ] perfuafivc adored Objed; ? one all dc/ircs, tlic other all defirabJe, here we muft yield or fly, \is in vain to parly. How few, how very few, charm'd with the Tranfports of approaching Blifs, can leave unfinifh\i all their eager VVifhes, if no Allay mix with this Height of PalTion ? Then let our Sex be cautious, if there can be fuch a thing in Love; and where there is no Love, 'tis needlefs. So I may as well be filent ; eUe methinks I could recommend a world of Difcretion and Prudry to them. Pray don't let my Lady T"- fee this Letter, you know (he's (o cenforious. LETTER V. To the too caictious Lcve^'* r A H, cruel Youth, you may be fure I want ,/\, your Pity, fince of one who too furely hates me I'm compelled to ask it. But, oh, you'd have your barbarous Ufage pafs for Dif- cretion, and facrifice me to your inhumane Pru- dence. Where is the Tendernefs you once cx- prefs'd, the kindeft, dcarcll Youth that ever talk'd of Love, that now you can thus uncon- cernedly fee me perifli ? Oh, your Cruelty dif- trafts me -, I beg you, by all your Hopes of fu- ture Happinefs, ihew fome Pity, and prevent my Ruin ; not thus exafperate my Soul, till an ungovern'd Furv expofe my Folly to the World, The [ion The mofl extravagant Fondnefs, and exalted Raptures of fiditious Lovers, with which Poets have adorn'd Romances, are but faint Emblems of my mightier Paffion : And by that Heaven which awes my defperate Hand with a religious Guard, did not Piety forbid, Td fall, this Moment, a Vi<5lim to your Cruelty, rather than live to bear the Curfe of your Negled, for 'tis better not to be, than to be miferable. Oh, do not dally with a Paflioh which is grown too powerful for Reafon ; but by fome aufpicious Care, hafte and footh this Frenzy of my tortur'd Soul, left, if provok'd too far (fpite of virtuous Ties) I may do a Deed, which, if not more than Humane , will move your . Pity , ftartle that ftubborn Breaft, which now no Prayers, no Tears can move, make all my fighing Friends curfe the dear Man I love, whom with my lateft Breath I blefs, and recommend to Heaven with my expiring Sighs. Oh think you fee me weep- ing, fighing, dying at your Feet, and take mc to your Mercy ; Heaven will reward your pious Care, and I with a thoufand endlefs Thanks ac- knowledge you the dear Preferver of my Life ; and tho' the Favour is extorted from you, and an unwilling Pity faves me ,• yet I'll efteem it, as if with the Hazard of your own deareft Life you had ranfom'd mine. I have try'd a thoufand Ways, but nothing will afford one Mo- ment's Eafe, 'tis you alone that can compofc thefe fad Diftradiions of my fond fuflering Breaft. Let not my wild Refentments be ex- pos'd to the World by my Impatience at your Abfence, but let me fee you this Night, for till I do I cannot reft. I do not ask your Love, that [ 204 ] that. is not in your Power, Humanity is, I only beg you would do any thing that may make me think you do not hate *the -wretched MUSIDORA^ LETTER VI. The ANSWER. Madam, I Have not only Humanity, but To particular a Regard for you, that I read your Letter with the greatell Surprize and Concern. I think You'll make me mad too. What would you nave me do ? Was I ever wanting in my Devoir and conftant Attendance, till you commanded my Abfence without any Fault or Inclination in ine ? And when even again I have been admit- ted by your own Orders, and you confcfs'd I was belov'd ; yet, in a Rage, if I but kifs'd your Hand, tho* with an Awe due to a Mo- narch only, flrait you'd forbid me the Room, purfue me with a Billet never to approach you more : What Man on Earth can bear your damn'd Platonick Humours, to own you love to Diftradion, yet I mnfl not kifs you, touch you, nor fcarcely look at you ? I wifli Nicolim were in my Place, for faith I know not how to acquit myfelf in fuch a fantaftical Amour; [ i05 ] Amour ; nor can I for my Life help defiring to pleafe you. There is foraething entertaining in your novel Conduft ; and fince you, who was never in an Error before, own your Reafon is now grown ufelefs, and I command your Fate, fend but the Meflenger back this Moment, with an Afllirance that I fliall be received with com- mon Civility, and Til the next Moment By to you, with all the Tendernefs due to your Com- plainings : But for Heaven's fake. Madam, don'c make yourfelf and me thus uneafy by your own Caprice. But why do I delay, and expof- tulate here, when I think the Moments Years tifl I fee you, and fee you eafy ? IVljo am whatever, you comTuawd «a?, OOG 0^9Q0 LETTER VIL To LORENZO. THOU lovelieft, dearefi:, and, I hope, faith- fulleft of thy Sex, hafte to your Califla, and calm the Tumults your Abfence has raised in her long peaceful Breaft ,• for if you can live two tedious Days and not fee her, what has fhe not caufe to fear ? Two Days, ye Gods 1 a Century in Love, like mine ; how have I wept, and figh'd, and wifli'd in vain, to fee my adored Lorenz^o ? Could you behold nie in this gentle Scene of Sor- row, hear my foft Murmurings and kind Com- plainings, you*d pity your poor CaUfia, fly to her Relief, footh her Diiirefs, and hufti her Griefs ^ C io6 ] Griefs on your dear tender Bofom ; for I luiow you cannot bear I (hould be in Pain ; and to re- compence what you make mefuffer, fwear a thou- fand times I have endear'd you by my kind Dif- trefs ; and that, if pofTible, you love me more than ever. Thus, fure, will my dear Lorenz^o talk to his mourning Califia, till he fee her eafy, fee jher blefs'd ; for while he fpeaks to her, Ihe is fo. But tell me, thou all that's dear to me, how cou'd you \\vt two Days, and never fee me ? How cou'd you employ yourfelf without me ? Thofe lovely Eyes, that melting Voice, were only made for me. What ! did you gaze upon the Crowd, talkPoliticks, or read Philofophy ? I thought long fince we had loft all Tafte of thefe dull Amufements, and could relifli nothing but each other. Or did the envious Groves detain you } but by what new Charm ? For oft you have fwore, the plcafing Shades, the native Har- mony of tuneful Birds, the fragrant Odours of delicious Flowers, and all the Beauties of the whole Creation, were centred in your beloved Califia ; and I believe you thought fo. Oh, ne- ver undeceive me! your Abfence fhocks me ; and as you are Man, avert it Heaven, your Ardour may decline, and I may be abandoned. But if, oh, I tremble at the Thought, it ever fhould be fo, for Pity fake do it ; oh, do it gently, elfe your poor Calijla dies that Moment. Soften the Rigour of my Doom, and flowly bring my Ruin on ; be Months and Years in taking your Farewel -y glide, like Life, infenfibly away, till Immortality overtake the Ceremony i for to lefs lafting Blifs I can't rcfign you ; I cannot yield you to anothers Arms ; to have her murmur Love and fofc De/ire on your bewitching Bo- fom, [ 107 ] fom, fnatch my warm Kififes from your loVeiy Lips, and tafte the Pleafure only due to me ; Oh, {tabbing Thought 1 Then haile my Love, fup- prefs my Fears, footh my Sorrows, and with your foft Voice charm me to Peace, to Life, to Love, to you, more dear than all. I know you think I love you, therefore can any thing on Earth be worfe natur'd than not to let me lee you all this tedious time ? In vain you fwear you love me more than ever, while every Aftion (hows you too carelefs, or too difcreet. But oh, ye happy Men ! your fofcer PafTions; feldom difcompofe your Quiet; Bufinefs and Diverfions make your eafy Hours glide unheed- ed on, while we with painful Sighs find every heavy Minute hang like Ages on our anxious Souls. Love's but your Sport, the Paflime of your leifure Hours, only a Start of Paflion re- vived by Dreams or Drink, and loft as foon as thofc light Vapours vanifh ,• the weak Impref- fion touches only on the Senfes; your Souls know nothing of the conflant Lar.guifliments, and de- licate Movements which our foft Sex indulge; The tender Sighs, endearing Wifhcs, the plea- fing Pains, and fad Amufements, that wait on Love, like mine : For 'tis a PaHion fo powerful, refin'd and unmix'd, as if my very Soul was Love, or Love my Soul; and, like its immortal felf, rolls on in endlefs Tranfports of furprizing Tendernefs. Each Day, and all the Day you fill my Soul, where every rifing Thought's fo foft, fo very foothing, as my evil Genius urged me on to Love and Ruin. But my better An- gel keeps you there, whifpers you are unkind, and I at lall Ciall conquer and forget you. But •why do I flatter myfelf thus, unlefs I could owe my [zo8] my Freedom more to my Reafon, and lefs to my Refentmcnt ? For now ftiould you return, (igh on my trembling Bofom, and whifper fofc Tales of Love, I ftrait Ihould melr, fpite o^ my beft Refolves, and be again a fighing fond Believer. Ah ! too v^'ell I know you will foon be here, talk again of Love, and I be pleafed to hear you. For, ah! 'tis Heaven when you fpeak kindly to me, and I could liften to eternal Ages. But let's both be wifer, fince we know the fatal Confequence. Then let me conjure you, as you value my Repofe ,• nay, I charge you by my Love, or if any thing, even the Duty that flruggles in my labouring Soul, is greater ; if e'er we meet again, dare not for your Life give me one kind Word or Look, but pafs unheedful by ; and let us both, if poflible, forget that e'er we lov'd. For 'tis Madnefs to indulge a Paffion that mult make us miferable — You fee how I can talk now you are abfent. I know you fmile now, and fo may you ever On yotir impatient C A L I S T A.' LETTER VIIL The ANSWER. WH Y, lovely Charmer, do you upbraid me with an Abfence, which gives me fo much Pain ? You know I a,m obliged to move as ihe [ i09 ] the Court di'reds ; and why Co much Talk of be- ing miferable ? Is it Mifvry to fold thee in my eager Arms, prefs thee to my panting Bofora, gaze on thy thoufand Beauties, and hear thee {peak with Eloquence of Angels ? Oh! Why am I bar'd one Moment from thee, and lofe an Age of Love ? While in each others Arms we fhould be blefsM, talk all the Dearnelles of mutual Paf- fion, which only thofe who love like us can knowj nor even thyfelf can utter, unlefs in mur- muring SighSj gentle Touches, and tender Lan- guifhments. Oh, Extafy of Thought! my Soul is on the Wing, I fly this Moment to the filent Grotto where lall we met, there clafp, embrace thee, feel all the killing Tranfports which thou a- lone canft give, and Love and Imagination, great as mine, infpire ,• yet cannot really fee thee thefe three Days. But hafte, ye envious Hours, bring me to my Love, and let her not receive me with the fad Sounds of Duty, Ruin, and thofe Foes of Love ,• but with Joy take me to her Arms, for to part can only make us miferable. I fhall fet out to morrow Morning j live only on thy dear Letter, till I breath on thy inchanting Bo- fo:n. Till then, thou dearer to me than Life, Farewe/. [ iio ] LETTER IX. To CLARONA. YO U tell me in your J all, you fancy I can- not pafs a Moment without thinking on the Duke ot-— I am pleas'd you fhould know- how agreeable my Soul is to your Sentiments ,• for where his lovely Idea is once fix'd, not Worlds nor Ages can e'er remove it : He's ftill as charm- ing as when firil fighing on my tender Bofom ; helov'd, and hop'd, like me ; you know too well why we parted ; but to one fo truly fenfiblc of his Endearments and Beauties, nothing can make him lefs amiable ; he has ftill the fame Harmony in his moving Voice, tho' he talks not Love to me, the fame inchanting Smile, bewitching Look, tho' fquander'd away at random, or hVd on fome happy Fair, who is now lov'd and charm'd as I was once ; Oh that cues ! a Word our Sex too often hates, and I for ever deplore. You fee, dear Cliiroua, I am fo far from condemning your Suf- picion of my continued Paflion, that 1 defire to confirm it by the following Lines, writ about two Months ago. To you my Soul would make known every Thought ,• and forgive me, if you find you can't ha,ve one entire. > #' COME gentle Power, that pitys Love, Supprefs this fond Extream ;• Vhy muH: Amimcr fill each Thouglit, " And torture every Dream ? To [ ill ] To Bufinefs, Fafliions, Wit and Play, I like Attention give, The painful Sighs that breath his Name, The only Sign I live. Obferv'd by all, perceiving none. Like ftupid Clock-work move, I have no Thought or Action free. Feel no Impulfe but Love. As Angels are abforpt in Blifs, So I'm of Love poffefs'd ; But, oh, with it entirely curs'd ! As they fupremely blefs'd. Days, Months and Years go rolling on, I no Diftindion find ; Or think on aught, but that fad Hour, When he firft grew unkind. Why did my Joys immortal feem. As if they'd ever laft ? Why now one fix'd eternal Pang Of Grief for what is paft ? After this you can't exped I fhould fubfcribe Tours» P a [ Xli ] * The HUMOUR. ,rTp I S dull to live without Dc/ign, J^ Or Hopes of coming Joy ; Though we are fure we muft re/ign The dear dcUifive Toy. Let me be ftill with Wiflies blefl. It wakes our vital Fire; Altho' the God be ne'er pofleft. There's Pleafure in Delire. The Nature of Delight is fuclj. We're either cloy'd or crofs'd ; We've dill too little, or too much. And either Way 'tis loft. Then, dear Dwfire, thy Ppwer employ, Let me be Iboth'd by you ,• I ask no other conftant Joy, But wifiiing fomething new. rU take the fleeting World as 'cis. We're fickk both and vain ; For fome dear Lois I'll die with Grief, Then live and hope again. Tranfporting Expe(5i:ation can With Raptures fill the Breaft, The chief Delight of Life is Hope To be hereatter bleli LETTER C ii5 ] LETTER X. To ALT HON SO. IBladi to think with what Earneilnefs I im- portuned your Stay, Ill-natur'd and Uncivi], why would you not hear my Requefl ? 'Twas what your Generofity could not have deny'd ; for "cwas not to vifit often, be good humoured whin you came, return Letters, or the like. What! was you angry to find me better than you ex- peded ? Was it poffible for me to fee you, and feel no Change ? Surely was I at the Point of Death, tho' ray weak Pulfe had loft its Motion, and my chill Blood was ftagnate in my Veins, linking Nature at its loweft Ebb, but one alot- tcd RcTpiration more ; yet fhou\i you approach, "cwould animate my vital Heat, my enlivened Blood would make one Sally more, and the gay Flourifh look like/Health and Eafe. Such is i\\q facred Influence of my Alphonfoy and when I feel no Pain (but for his Abfence) what ]oY^y what Pleafurcs then muft wait upon his coming ? Think you my Illnefs only feigned to fuperfede your dull Pretence of Budnefs? But was it fo, farcly fo kind a Fraud might be forgiven. You know I would purchafe your Company at any Rate, but making you uneafy. For Fleaven- fake let me know what made you poft away fo : 1 believe you are in Fee with my Ph}- ficians ; you know how thefe Caprices of yours P 3 difoi'dcr [ ii4 ] diCotdev me. Write by the Bearer, for I am in double Pain, till I know what could make you fo out of humour with C A X. I s T A, L'E T T E R XL To ASTREA CAreful Jflrea, to you the Force of Love is fo well known, that you fcem anxious for my Safety ,• but the Lines you received laft Poft, I hope, will make you eafy ; where I have aflured you, I dare be innocently wretched. Oh 1 blame not my Indulgence of the lovely Youth, but ap- plaud, and wonder at my more than Woman's Refolution to leave the dear tranfporting and tranfported Charmer in height of all our Rap- tures ; I can only fay, my Guardian-Angel fnatch*d me from his blifsful Arms, and flill fe- cures me ; But I don't think him fo beautiful as my Amimaf. Pity, oh, pity, dear Aflrea! tlie wretchedfl Sufferer that ever Love made mife- rable. Could you, or any one but you, have re- iign'd fuch a glorious tender Lover ? Was it not barbarous to us both ? And yet fuch is humane Fate ; we muft thank Heaven, if 'tis fo favou- rable as to give us Courage to flarve, left we fliould furfeit : But fly every repining Thought. In vain you do aflault me ; I muft, I will be wretched ; in filent Anguifh wafte a tedious Life : for my Tortures are above Complaint, no Term [ ii5 ] Term of Horror expreffive enough of what I feel. But with T'rapp's Pyrrhns — Bear wf_, cby bear me to the Rack for Enfe / LETTER XIL To AURELIO. MEthinks, Counfellor Aurelh, you tz.kt a prepofterous Way of asking Pardon for laft Nighty's Rudenefs, and contefs one Fault to excufe another, by pretending you don't know what you faid, becauie you was in a Paflion. Am I a fit Objcd for any Rage but Love ? But now I think on't, you went to Hol- land for Education, and I expecl e^er long to be challenged to Snick or Snecy while you cherifli the Heroical Thoughts of making your Part good with a weak Fro. But I defire no Reply to this, till you have made your Tour to Pa- ris , and have learnt to make Amende Homm-ahle ;, then, I am perfnaded, I fhall be no more trou- bled with you \ for I fancy 'twill not be eafy fafliioning a Thing into a Beau Efp^rity or even into Flumanity, that is already pofi'efs'd with fo much of a Hogen Brute, Oh, how I d^fyi^c thee 1 and hate myfeif for ever having been in- dulgent to your AddrefTes. What was it that infatuated mc, that I could not penetrate thy fullen Soul, and fee the morofe Temper that involved it, but miftook thy gloomy Silence oft for noble Thoughtfulnefs, and awful Referve ? But now, with a malicious Joy, I fmile to think P 4 vvith [lid] with what Pain 3'ou fniothcr'd the rancorous Ardour in your confcicus Breaft fo long e'er you durfl: give it Vent. Thus, like a Meteor, big with -the congregated Vapours of a La- dy's Raillery, you blaze and burft ; furprize the Orb from whence you drew them, and are, by the malignant Eftort, lofl for ever. Poor de- fpiied Aurelto ! dare no more approach me ,• ■for Til make no fccond Trial of your Info- lence. What ! contradict and reprimand me ! Were you a Pedagogue or a Lover ? Good God, a Lover 1 You fliould have fufpcnded your Spleen, till you had better Authority, and taken a lawful Licence for ill Manners ; yet with a Non objlante you might have been obliged to refign your pragmatick Charter -, fo 'twould not have been much to your Advantage : For I {hould have fuperfeded your arrogant Pre- tenfions, and you would perhaps have been engag'd in worfe than a Chancery Suit dti- rante vita ; for you mufl know, I am very vindictive, and no great Friend to Domcftick PalTive Obedience : V\''e fliould have divided the Ei^glrjJj Darling ; you fhould have had yout Property, and I Liberty : So let us both thank Heaven for this early Difcovery, which wife- ly warns us to remain in ftatu quo. [ ^17 ] IW^fM^^ LETTER XIII. To C L AR N J. Dear C l a r o n a, WONDER not (for I do own ft) that I doat on the Duke of ~ — nor fo often teaze me that a Woman of my Tafte can entertain him. To me he has ten thoufand Charms, not only in his Perfon, but Mind, I am fure he has ; and I can fee the remoter Beauties of his Soul fparlde in the beamy Fluid of his lovely Eyes ; and in his Smiles more Rhetorick than all Tully's Orations ; Then pray let me alone to love this finifli'd Hero, this Mafter- piece of the Creation : Even Truth itfelf is more engaging when exprefs\i with Elegance ; fo the Faculties of the Soul difplay'd by fo fine, fo beautiful a Form, muft have irrefidlefs Force; tho'by you, who only gaze on the viiible Charms of his Perfon, his Intellcds are cenfur'd; 'tis be- caufe you dwell only on his lovely Face, his Eyes, his Smiles, hne Shape and Godlike Mein, till dazled with their Splendor you fee no farther. But I view him as I do the Sun, admire his exte- riour Beams, convinced by that Eclat of Reful- gency, there mull be a more imraenfe Bright- nefs center'd in that glorious Orb ,• but was there no more, there's enough in our Sight to claim' even our Adoration. You'll never, dear, v/ift; [zi8] wife Claroym, diflliade me tVom this Parallel. Vv^'Iiat would you have him, a Phitofophcr, to pall our Pleafares with dull Maxims, and inflead of iighing on my render Bofom, entertain me with a Difiercation on humane FafTions^ and Vanity of fublunary Enjoyments ? I wifh Diogenes or Heraditus were here, rhey fhould be at your Service for me ; I had rail.er have the Sight of him, than hear all their fententions Morality i one View of his luvjly Perfon can infpire my Soul with ten Thoufand beautiful Ideas and Re- flections, and give it fufficient Entertainment, were he to be ever filent. But oh, CJarovta, he can (peak the dearefl tendereft Things, and every Thing I wifh to hear ; nay, could he pof- fibly talk Nonfenfe, yet there is fuch Harmony in his melodious Voice, I could, with Raptures, ever liflen to him, as to the Accents of Angels unintelligibly ravilhing, Tm fure he looks like one. Do you envy my Anticipation of future Blifs ? for they fay our Joys above confift in Vifion. Who but you durfl find one Fault with my adorable Hero ? he has the Beauty and Soft- nefs of Adonis, with the undaunted Valour of the God of War, exaftly finifh'd for the Camp or the Alcove. What Ball or bright Aflembly is fecure when he appears ? What Pkafure do I take to fee the Fate he fcatters round ? With Love the Ladies die, the Men with Envy; while 1 triumphant fmile fecure he lives for me, and only me, and you alone efcape his Power, becaufe you are refolv'd to fee nothing valuable but in the judicious awful Earl who, I am fure, makes Love in Mood and Figure, and talks more Politicks than Paflion : But I'll not retort, but beg you'll let me alone to love and be be- loved ; C ii9 ] loved ; call my Fondnefs Weaknefs if you pleafe, laugh at my Platonick Notions, funk, as you think, into a vulgar Love: But fpare, oh fpare your Raillery on that dear heavenly Man, for when you touch on him, you wound me in the i tendereft Parti for he muft, he fhall, he will be ever mine : And remember, tho* this is not the jfirft, 'tis the lafl; time I mufl forgive you. ^-^ '^*^ ^^ '^ *^»^^ ^f^/^'^ LETTER XIV. To A NTE NO R, NO W I have Leifure to refled on my late dear Indifcretions, I know not which gives me mofl Pain, the irrefiitlefs Paflion that betrayed me to it, or the fecret Reproaches of my nicer Soul, unufed to fuch fond Freedoms ; to the ftrid: Rules of feverer Virtue Was too much, but to Love 'twas little, to Love like mine, that, ftifled tedious Years within my cautious Breaft, at your Return breaks forth with a re- doubled Ardour. When from my Lips you fnatch'd the firft dear hafty Kifs, alarm'd and furpriz'd, I felt the fatal Influence, the latent Flame reviv'd, glow'd in my Cheeks, danc'd in my Eyes, and wantoning thro' all my Frame, infpir'd eager Wiflies and exquilite Defires. Love urg'd me on, bid me be blefs'd with every Joy that my fond Heart could wifli, and Charms like you could give, adorn'd you with every Grace, and made you lovelier than when you firfl [ ^'-o ] £rft taught mc to iigh and languifli for your dawning Swcctne fs ; biit Uridkr Virtue, ac every tboughtfll Hour, upbraids mc for thefc ioofcr Starts of Pctifion, end l rcfolvc never to entertain tiie tempting. Cliarmer more. But who, that doats like' me, coul'd fly thole dear inviting Arms^ and not return the enchanting PrelTure.?. Or,, when fnatch'd to thac fnowy Bofom, would not recline to the unequal Whitc- nefs, and on it iigh and murmur Love and foft Defire? Oli, therc^s Magick in your h'ghteft Touch, the melting Poilon runs thro' all my Veins quick to my confcious Heart, and gives a pleafing Pain and wild tumultuous Joy : Then, in this hurry of my Senfes, I follow kind delu- ding Love thro' all his dear delicious Maze-, foothing delightful Paths, even to the Brink of Ruin, then ftop, and with relrcfcant Fear fly the thrcatning Danger, yet ftill languifli for the Charms -thai: tempt me to my undoing. Oh, why was you mark'd out, of all Mankind, to give me all this Love and Pain ? Why did you confefs your PafTion, and wir'i your artful foft Endearments win my unguarded Heart at firft ? for little did I diliruft the fatal Confcquencci the lambent Fire long glimmer'd in my Bread, till your repeated Ardours cncrcas'd the Biaze, and thence arofe a never d)ing Flame, nor T'me nor Abfence can fubdue its Power ; then, if 'tis pofiible, forbear to pleafe, be lefs lovely ; for while you look and fpeak fuch foft bewitching Things, I mull: be delighted with you, and ifill love on ; nothing you fee can deltroy it, tho' Abfence had a while fupprefs'd it. Why would you fay you lov'd me more than ever ^ will that cure mc ? will that dear Sound damp the Ex^- tafies [ 121 ] - tafics of a fond devoted Soul, and recal- myi wandnng Reafon ? No, my eager Heart leaps, lip with Joy to meet the inchanting Accents ; and I am, if poffible,.more entirely yours i and yet, yet I mufl reiign you. Unkind Antencr^ mufl; I be for ever perfecuted with your Importunities ? How can you thus in- ceflantly, with your Petitions, diftnrb that Re- pofe, which I v/as hoping quickly to enjoy ? Your Si'ience or Unconcern ha-d, perhaps, foon footh'd me to a Calm j but every Moment you alarm my Soul with Pity, that firi^ Elfay of fup- plicated Love ; oli fpare me in this fad Preiiure of my Fate, iince to be kind or bieft, or make you fo, I muft be perjurM ,v you heard my hafty Vow, but folemn as the Gcds by St:x. I muft not, dare not fee you, you are too fubmif- {ive ; and, I fear, I too tender i for fliould the penitent Amencr kneel and langiufii at my Feet for Pardon, I foon fliould fnatch the dear Sup- pliant to my Arms, and oii his Breaft iigh a kind Forgivenefs : Too well I know the Magick of your Looks to truft you here, know my own Weaknefs, your irrefiftlefs Power of pleading, and the Tortures of a Breaft, where Refolution oppofes dearer Inclination. Oh for feme fubtle Cafuift, whofe minute Diflirftions could folve the Scruples of m.y tender Breaft; teach me to evade my torturing Vow, and to my ftruggling Soul reftore both Peace and Pleafure. Hence all . ye foothing Sophifters, in vain's your Aid, for if I myfelf, urg'd by the ftrongefl: Ties, all that's dear in Life, can find no way to prevari- cate, nor in my partial Breaft one mental Refer- vation in this painful Exigence, there is no Help, _[ 111 ] Help, but I am loft for ever ,• ask my Pardon then no more, you fee it muft be fruitlefs. But take it, oh take it kindly, that from my Soul I wifh I could forgive you. LETTER XV. Madam, A Friend of ours being at the Affembly laft Night, faw the Lady to his great Surprize, in all her flaunting Airs : the dimi- nutive Creature made fuch an Impreflion on him, that he was infpir'd to reverfe the celebrated Girdle of WaEers ador'd Sacharijfa, and fent it me this Minute ; and 'tis as freely at your Ser- vice as things of this Nature are malicioufly at every Body's. I expeft you at the unintelligent Opera to Night, Am yours. Waller's Girdle reverted, on the Sight of Lady ■ at the AJfembly at St. James'j. W HAT her ColofTus Wafte entwin'd. Some fturdy falling Oak {hall bind : No flroUing Beggar, for a Crown, Would care to do what this has done. 'Twas [ ZIJ ] 'Twas of all Plagues the ample Sphere, The Mound which held rhe psmper'd Deer; Envy, Fraud, Noife, licentious Love, Did all within this Circle move. "V^aft was the Compafs, and yet there D^velt neither what was Good or Fair: Unhappy Ribband, thou haft bound The vileft Lump the Sun goes round. L E T T.E R XVI. To A L M A NO. H, AlmanOy you are ftiil more charming, and I am loft for ever ; I bid you flight and hate me j but oh difguife thofe Inclinations of your Soul, thofe Corrolives are too ftiarp for my tender Breaft, and will not cure, but exaf- perate the Pain. Think of fome gentler Method to reclaim my wandring Rcafcn ; venture, Almano, to fpeak kindly to me, I'll not hold you to your Word : Sigh, fwear, flatter, any thing to looth the prefent raging Paffion, which now will blefs that Pity it fo lately fcorn'd. Curfe on thofe lighing Fools, that in foft Numbers celebrate my Wit, and tell me "'tis a Spring of perpetual Charms to conquer and fecure Hearts, fince 'twill not purchafe one kind Word or Look from the dear, regardlefs Man I love, to whom each Moment of my Life's addrefs'd, while Diver- (ion. [ 2Z4 ] fion, Balinefs, nay Djvotion, all's ncglecled for him ; I have no ufe ot" Thought but to admire his Charms, think how he looks, and fmiles, and fpeaks, then blufh and figh, and blefs the lovely Author of my Ruin, in whofe dear Arms I had rather be kindly clafp'd, than graf'p in my own Hand the Scepter of the World. Wlicn e'er indulgent Slumber brings him to my Arms, I fondly prefs him to my fighingBreaft, whifper foft Tales of Love, and footh him to my Wifh, hear and fwear eternal Vows of" Truth and Tendernefs j then wake with all the Raptures of Delight, as if my Joys were real ; but oh, too foon I find the dear Deluiion, my empty Arms confefs the Cheat, and I can only find his dear Idea in my tortur'd Heart ; then ligh and weep, blulh at my fond Miflake, check my growing PafTion, and wifh and beg, even in the midft of my early Orizons, that I did not, might not, love fo well. Ye cruel partial Powers that guide our Defliny, why make ye not our Sex to pity thofe who figh and languifli for them, but fo often force and fix cur Inclinations where we meet Averfion ? Oh how blefs'd would poor Philafter be, could he enjoy the thoufandth Part of that vaft Love that I fquander away on the cruel thanklefs Almam ! By feme quick Change eafe my fond tortur'd Heart, teach me the Coldnefs of the carelefs Youth ; or (to make me more blefs'd) let feme fofter God infpire his Breafl, until he love like me, or learn him to diflemble for a while, to make the Fate of our eternal Parting lefs fhocking to my tender Soul, ru join in the Deceit. Do, dear Almnno, look and fpeak as if you lov'd me ; then lay the Blame on Fate, pretend your Father's Prohibi- tion, [ "5 ] tion, a Tour to Italjy or any thing but the Truth. So ftiall Falfliood be meritorious in you, and you'll fo mitigate my Sufferings, that inftead of torturing Racks, my poor mourning Heart will gently bleed to Death. LETTER XVII. Jo a Triend, with a POEM, Madam, I Have, at laft, yielded to your Importunity ; yoLi will find inclos'd the Poem you fo prefs'd me for : I know 'twill firfl move your Anger, then your PitJ^ Tours to commands HAIL, lovely Erato, whofe Toothing Lyre Befi: founds the melting Sighs of fofc (Defire; Tune all my Notes to thy delicious Strain, J Teach me of Love fo fweetly to complain, > Tin my own Lyre has Power to eafe my Pain- j I (ing no carelefs or unconquer'd Youth, Nor common Theme of violated Truth ; The fatal Flame, that robs me of my Refl, Burns with ah equal Ardor in his Breaft ; Both by the fame impetuous Impulfe mov'd. With the like Paffion talk'd, and look'd, and (lov'd, Q Whole C i^<^ 1 Whole Hours he'd figh on my delighted Breafl:, While wifhing, pleading Eyes his Flame con- (teft; Thofe filent Orators, that more can move. Than all the vocal Rhetorick of Love. Thus would we both with tender Tranfport: (gaze, Whilft leaning on my Cheek his lovely Face, He'd prefs, with eager talle, my willing Lip, And oft from thence the balmy Nedar fip ; Where every ravifli'd Senfe would crowd to (prove That Earnefl: of the richer Draughts of Love : Thus melting, dying, in each others Arms, I kit, oh Virtue, too, too powerful Charms, Felt irreliillefs Sofcnefs feize my Heart, Vv^ifli'd ever thus to join, and never part ; With mutual Languifhments fupine we lay, Intirely given up to Love and Play ; Till Nature, glowing with her brightefl Fires,;> Could bear no more, — tumultuouily expires, > ^Twixt awful Fears, and exquilite Defircs, j While thus intranc'd, the Pallion inward burns. Exerts its Force as Love and Life returns ; Then, with frefli Ardor, the bewitching Youth Still grafps me faft, and vows new Love and (Truth; I, quite enchanted with the Toothing BhTs, Return each Freflure, give back every Kifs : He, joy'd his Love did fuch Indulgence find, "^ Scraight knew no Bounds, but more profufely ! (kind, f Urges the Rapture that was flill behind ; J Railing Imagination to fuch Height,. No am'rous God could promife more Delight : Yet [ ^^7 ] Yet I forbote this World, this Heaven of CharmSj Still figh'd and wifh'd, yet fled his tempting (Arms, Witnefs, oh Honour, and oh Nature too. If fnch a Conflid you e'er faw till now. For oh, too daring Lengths of Love I run. One Moment more, and I had been undone ; For that important Minute fnatch'd me thence. Equally fond of him and Innocence ; Compleatly "happy that I thefe pofleft. Yet languifh'd too, to know the mighty reft. What Perturbations does tranfport the Mind, -^ Charm'd with the Joys we wifh, and thofe we/ (find,S Tafte Pleafure to the Height, yet know there'sl more behind ?3 I, who ne'er lov'd, nor venturM thus before. Knew not that Nature had fuch Sweets in ftore 3 The new Amufement every Senfe ingroft, Remorfe was all in the dear Wonder loft ; My Soul was full of the extatick Blifs, I felt each Touch, retafted every Kifs ; Awake 1 had no Thought but of his CharmSj Or if afleep, dreamt I was in his Arms. At laft, my Tranfport does to Grief fubmir, I weep, and blame the almoft guilty Night ,* With Dread the dangerous Scene I now furvey. And wonder how I forc'd myfelf away ; Virtue the dear Indulgence oft upbraids. On t'other Side great Love and Nature pleads^- Nature complains that I have injur'd her. And did dull Precepts to Inftin^t prefer : So only Love was pleas'd with what was done. Knowing unfinilh'd Joys would footh us to love (on. Q. 3 I eharge [ "§ 1 I charge ye all, ye untry'd Nymphs, beware^ Truft not your Prudence, nor your Pride too tar. Ah, who that truly loves, untouched, can hear The melting Accents of a Lover's Prayer, Endure his PrcHbres, hear him figh and pant For Joys which fhe, and only fhe can grant ? What can fhe do ? *tis Ruin to comply. And to retufe, 'tis eafier far to die. For now I know, by this dear tafle of Charms, That all Delight is centered in his Arms ; Know too in mine he places all his Blifs, And yet to part — fure Racks are Eafc to this. If Fallliood or Indifference were our State, It might be born, 'tis but a common Fate : But when two Souls, fo paifionately kind. By a long Series of Endearments join'd. Part for a Name, what more fevere can prove. Not to be blelf — but curfl with fo much Love ? Why do the Powers above admit Defire, Yet interdid the Paflions they infpire ? Oh let them guide our paffive Wills arighf. Or keep us ignorant of the dear Delight. Witnefs yourlelves, ye Powers, how much Iflrove, How oft I wept and prayM I might not love; Too ftrong's the Impulfe of a deftinM Heart, It knows no Law, nor Intercft, nor Art ; Love footh'd the Scruples of my dubious Mind, Taught me the fatal Joy of being kind ; Joys, which I almofl wifh I ne'er had known* Such a dear Tafte of Love refign'd fo foon ; ''Tis more than humane Nature fure can bear, He is to me than Life or Fame more dear : But Virtue calls, reluctant lobey;- Futurity, can you this mighty Lofs repay ? Tell me, ye Gods, if I renounce the Blifs, How many Heavens you will allow for this ? Oh Oh quickly fpeak, fiipport me e'er I faint, (Or hurrying Nature force me to relent ;) "Without your Aid the Tryal's too fevere, More than my fond, my tender Breafl: can bear. Hark, a foft Sound, fwcet as his moving Voice, Says I {hall be pofl'efs'd ,of future Joys ; And fince my Sou] is fo composed of Love, If pure, fhall tafte redoubled Blifs above. And now, thou deareft lovelieft Youth farewel, Adieu that Bofom where all Pleafures dwell : Pardon that thus I do refign thy Arms, A Circle flowing with inceflant Charms ; 'Too well I know and prize the Joys I lofc. But dare not ask thy Leave, left thou refufc. Ph do not grieve, or let thy Part be fmall. To me transfer it, and I will bear it' all ; Weep all the davkComp Hours of .Night away. In lone Recedes fhuivthe-bufy Day ; Shun all that's humane, toavpi^ Relief, As once my Joy?," fo ngw indulge my Grief,* Cherifh thy dear Idea in my Heart, Think on thy Spftnefs to encreai'e my Smart ; And to rack Nature to the height of Pain, Refolve to love — — but never meet again. tvi i'f^ ^"■4 y^i i"'^ ^"^ i-*"^ ^"4 i-""-i y^t ^"'■•i y^ y^ y^ ^"'•i "^"^ y^ ^'"4 ^''-s ^'i i^"/^ ^1'5 LETTER XVIII. To Alcides, feeing him after three Tears Abfence, UNconfcious Youth, you kngw not when (met laft. How my foft Breaft the trifling Minutes paft ; Q 3 1 blufli- C 130 ] I blufliing thought, how jiifl three Years before, Exadly on that Day, that very Hour, (When Virtue fcarce repuls'd your powerful (Charms,) Slowly I left your dear inviting Arms. Too well you know how eagerly you fued, And with what Tendernefs you was withflood | To make the Rigour of Denial lefs, I footh'd the Paffion I could not redrefs : With kindeft Eyes your Languifliing I view. And vow'd, if e'er I lov'd, it fliould be you ; A thoufand foft endearing Things expreft. As you lay wifhing on my trembling Breail ,• The fond MifUke did not my Anger move, I could not frown, nor chide, nor any thing but (love. Sure two fo very kind ne'er pafs'd their Time, With fo much Sofcnefs, and fo little Crime ,• In fuch Delight the pleafing Hours were fpent. That, Heaven forgive me, I could fcarce repent. Tell me, ye fubtle Cafuifts, was*t a ^in. Or may we dare to meet and love again ? No, rather let me ask the Fates Intent, If they've decreed I fhould be innocent : for tho' I know 'tis not m Nature's Power^ I fhould love better, or be tempted more ; Yet I'm not fure the Charmer can't prevail ; Virtue, tho' often try'd, at laft may fail. Then hear, ye pitying Qods, grant my Requefi: Subdue this dangerous PafTion in my Brea/l : Or if't mull; be my Punifhment to love. Add to my Pain, and from my Sight remove The pleafing Youth ; for oh I dread the Crime, Aiid am not fafe if left to Love a^nd hiip, ■ LET- [ n^ ] LETTER XIX. The MESSAGE. To Amintas. GO, gentle Sighs, like Infpiration move, And tell the gay Amintas flill I love ; Tell with what tender Pain I'm bai'd the Blifs, Of being only and for ever his j Spite of the Ccldnefs I've fo long cxpreft, The latent Fire llill glow'd witlnn my Breafl : So Vapours often Phxhm Glories fnroud. Yet flill he fhines behind the envious Goud. .Go to his doubtful jBofom, foftly ileal, . And all my Love and Langui&ments reveal ; Tell every Wifh, and every tender Fear, How I defire, yet how ,1 dread him here. -But let him not fufpcd, Td have him knov/, .Left he grow kind again, and love me too ; For oh, i dare not truft his powerful Charms, There's more than Magick \i\ Amintas' Arms. LETTER XX. To a Ladj with two Copes of Verfes, viz. The Garter traniposd^ and tlie Magnet. Dear Madam, oiui-^f-'v TH O' you are no great Lover of Poetry, I could not forbear communicating to 0^4 you [13^ you Lines on fo uncommon a Theme, as !%€ Garter traufpos'd, to tie a Night-Gown ; T'he Magnet too was fomething that pleas'd me. I will make no farther Apology, knowing your good Nature accepts every Endeavour to oblige you. From, Madam, yours, &c. On lending a Garter for a Girdle, To A M I N T A S. MAY this foft Circle tendereflMagick prove, And all within it feel the Power of Love -, The warm Effluvia mingling with thy Blood, Infpire fuch Ardors as my Breaft fubdued j Swift let it glide thro' ev'ry trembling Vein, Till each kind Atom glow with the delicious (Pain. Hail happy Ribband, oh that in thy ftead, Tho* o'er my Cheeks thy rofy Colour fpread, I might, like thee, but prefs and clafp him (round. Till he from my kind Arms the foft Enchant- (mcnt found. Oh how I envy thee, how blefs'd art thou ? Not facred Fillets on the Prieflefs Brow ; Or Salisbury's Garter e'er was half fo grac'd. When 'tis, vvith Pomp, on fovereign Princes (plac'd y The azure Band Britannia dedicates. As facred to the Guardian of her State. The Caledonian Heroes too are feen, Adorn'd with honourable Belts of Green. And And if great Love ftiould be aufpicious now,' On this kind Girdle fo much Power beftow. To charm Amintas Soul entirely mine, ,The Red Til confecrate for ever thine. The M AG NET AMinta^ abfentj JLov^'s as lambent Fire, My Soul knows no kind Wiiji or fond (Deiirej But foon as the inchanting Youth returns. Thro' my whole Frame the impetuous Ardor (burns. Thus do the am'rous latent Seeds in Steel Lie undiflurb'd, and no Emotion feel. Till the infpiring Magnet near it move, -n Whofe Force does thro* each confcious Momf (rov( Then by impulfive Heat trembles with ac (L< Is then this Sympathy a Fault in me ? Can I refift the inherent Tendency > The dear Efteds I feel, but cannot find How the Effluvium actuates my Mind, Involuntary move, occult the Caufe, Jnfluenc'd, like th^it, by mere mechanick h^ws. •^-■t-^iv-V. [ ^54 ] ftt'v/ h:jA on zvrov.A nd vl. Mifcellaneous Letters 'A t^.d 'ditizii - on,'/ v/n AND -f' r.f^ 7.' I P ARADO X^S: tmr -4— r LETTER I. To Caleb Seeker E/^i ^^ his O.wnhers in the Middle-Temple, London. JJfon the r R£ E-T h i n k e r s. : ^he Fool hath /aid in his Hfartj there is no God, My Dear Caleb, OURS of the 2oth ult. has given me a little Dilhirbance ; for the Love and Value I have for you, makes me uneary, that you^re got into lb worth- lefs an Acquaintance as you mention ; for believe me, my Friend, there's nothing to be got by i'i bur Dilquiet and Infamy. 'Tisajurt Maxim cf the ingenious Otv:ay, Avoid Y i [ ^35 ] 'Avoid the Man that's Jinguiar, His Brain's unfound, his Spleen oeyweighs his Wit] For, indeed, a Man that fets up to- be wifer than the reft of the World, ought to be very fure of the Solidity of his Fundanientals ; elfe he may, in all Probability, give greater Proofs of his Folly than of his Underftand- ing. I know very well, that a Country Parfon makes fo ridiculous a Figure amongft your Friends at the Grecian Sy that I have but little Hopes that my Advice fiiould be of any great Im- portance with you. However, fince you are ftill pleas'd to continue your Favour tor me, I fhall make ufe of that Privilege, and treat you like a Friend, and a Man of Reafon. Reafon is what your new Acquaintance make great Pretenlions to, though they, by no Means, will be conclu-- ded by it. They call themfel ves F r e e-T h i n k e r s, but it is a grofs Mifnomer, a moft horrible Abufe of the Word; for there arc not more flaviih Think- ers in the World ,• they lay down certain Pojhir lata, of which they admit no Difpute : As for Example^ That the Wurld is Eternal ; 'that the SquI is mortal^ and by Cotifeqtience that there is no IVorld to come^ nor any Account to be given of our Sins and tranfgrejjions in this. Having fix*d thefe Princi- ples by a fort of dogmatical Ipfe dixit, they ar- gue not fairly, nor. give ^yqu any Reafons, at leaft, that will bear Water tD prove thefe Poficions, but are themfelves confin'd to ftrive and force all their Authorities andReafonings to confirm chefe ^Points. - Thus you will find in their Books par- tial Quotations prefs'd into their Service, which, if fairly examin'd by the Authors, from whence they they arc taken, conclude quite the contrary. And if thefe Quotations are in another Lan- guage, you^'re fuie to fiiid the Tranflation of them nothing a-kin to the Original. Thefe 4re Me- thods^ m)i:friend, that difcover, in fp5te of their Aflurance, and confident Way of exprcfling them- felves, a wonderful Diffidence in their Caufe, and a Conduft too difingenuous and diflioneft for the Lovers of Truth to be guilty of. If by F R E E-T H I N K I N G, they mean an im- partial bringing all Opinions to the Teft of right Reafon, I am as much a Free-thinker as any one ; but it is plain from their Methods above-mentioned, that they are afraid of being determined by that Teft ; for by that they muft not pretend to impofe any thing upon us without Proof i whereas their very Fundamentals in- clude greater Abfurdities, or, at leaft, as great as Tranfubftantiation itfelf : And while they laugh at our Faith, and Belief of the holy Doc- trines of the Gofpel, as implicit, they require a greater Implicitnefs to their own Fancies. For Example, Put them upon the Proof of the Eter- nity of the World : Ask them how Man, a Being that we know had a Beginning, we fee daily has an End, came firft to fubiift ^ All the An- fwer they give you, or at leaft all the Anfwer I could ever meet with from them, is. That our Fathers begot us, and we our Children ; that though every particular Man dies, yet the Spe- cies is Eternal. But prefs them on for Reafon, and ask them. Whether every Whole does not confift of its Part ? and that, Whether every particular Part, that is, every Man, has not an End and dies ? And therefore how that Whole can be Immortal or Eternal, every Part of which is is confefs'd by themfelves to be Mortal ? they give you no manner of Anfwer, but that it was fo from all Eternity. Prefs them again with this Qiieilion, that by their own ConcefTion, every Individual has a Be- ginnings that is, that there was a Time when Petery and Johriy and Stephen, and the reft, were not ; hov/ came they to be ? All that they anfwer, is. That their Parents begot them. But to go on with them , there was a Time when their Pa- rents were not, and had no Being, and fo on for hundreds of Ages pall j let them take as many as they pleafe, they muft come at laft to this Point, That all Beings that: have an End, muft alfo have a Beginning ; and never coii'd have been, unlefs they had been produced by fome Being that had no Beginning, and muft by Confequence be felF" exiftent j and that Being is what we call God. Another Article of their Faith is, That Man's Soul is Mortal ; or rather, indeed, that he has no Soul at all ,• upon this they make all their Flourilh. Here they ftand their Ground, as if it were a Poft impregnable. Upon this they have writ feveral Books, which, I think, have been all fufficiently confuted. However,! would ask them. That fince they pretend to be Philo- fophers, that fince they avow themfelves Cham- pions for the Liberty and Dignity of Man- kind, to which of thefe does this Doftrine con- tribute ? Is it really for the Benefit of Human Society, that every Man and Woman fhouJd be- lieve that they die like Dogs ? that therefore they may do what they will, without Regard to Juftice, Truth, Virtue and Honefty, provi- ded they take Care not to incur the Penalties of human Laws ? That Religion is a Jeft of Poli- tical [ i38 ] Heal Inflitution by the cunning Men^ only to manage the reft of the World ? Is not this to dififolve all the Ties of human Society? to open a wide Door to Confufion, Mifery and Deftruc- tion ? Wonderful Benefadors to human Kind! But fuch, my Friend, as all Civil Government ought with Care to extirpate, iiixe, for the fake of meer Probability, (for they pretend to no more) they would deftroy the Security of all Man- Idnd. To give you a full View of the Immortality of the Soul, which is too long for this Letter, I refer you to the Learned Dr. Clark^ Sir Richard Black-more, the DeijVs Manual, and various other Trads, in which this Point is fully difcufs'd. For my part, I think thefe Gentlemen ought all to be us'd as ^ohn "Trifle, one of their grand Demogogues, was by a certain Nobleman of this Kingdom. The Story goes thus : Trifley you muft know, is an IrijLMa.n, begot by a Po- pifii Priefh upon a galloping Nun; had part of his Education in Scot/and, and the reft in Po- land. This Gentleman has, with the fmattering of fome little Learning, and a great deal of na- tive Impudence, a voluble Tongue, and a fawn- ing Addrcfs, infinuated himfelf into the Ac- quaintance of feveral Pcrfons of Figure, diftin- guiftied more by their Wealth and Dignity, than by their Underftanding. Here Trffle has en- deavoured to exert his PartSj and preach up the Doftrine of the Soul's Mortality, efpecially a- mongft the Ladies, whofe Weaknefs of Judgment was moft likely to be furpriz'd by the Plaufibi- Ijcy of his Argument ; he at laft got AdmifTioii into the Family of a worthy Nobleman, where propagating his damnable Doctrine, it came to the t iJ9 ] the Eat" of the Nobleman, who provided him a Reception the next time he came, which Tnfle did by no means admire. But whilfl he was in full Argument with the Ladies, as his Way was, my Lord came into the Room, and feem'd to liilen to him with fome Attention, which made him exert Uimfelf in an extraordinary Manner, hoping for a new Convert in that Illuftrious I^erfon ; but taking his Leave, Hold, faid my Lord, you have been at a great Expence of Breath, and I don't ufe to be ungrateful to thofe that endeavour to ferve me. With that he rung a fmall Bell, and in rufh'd half a dozen of lufly Fellows with a Blanket, and fei z'd upon I'rifle, who began to buflle, and cry. He was a Gentle- man, and hop'd therefore that his Lordfliip, for his own fake, wou'd ufe him as fuch. I fhall ufe you, faid my Lord, as a Dog, as a Corrup- ter of Families, as one that had difclaim'd ail Pretence to Religion and Immortality i and therefore art a Dog, and as fuch flialt be us'd ,* though indeed a Dog is much the more valu^ able Creature i he is of fome Ufe, thou of none ; the Blanket ftiall fufEce for this time ,• but if ever thou dareft venture within my Doors again, exped worfe Ufage. With that the Ladies all vanifh'd ; the Lord withdrew, and not regard- ing his Prayers, the Men went to work with him, and tofs'd poor T'rifle fo long, that they difmifs'd him in a moft flagrant Condition. This, I think, is the beft Confutation of fuch Difputants ; I fhall defer my Character of his CoUegue till another Opportunity. My Friend, I would have you not debafe your Underfland- ing fo far as to keep fuch Company, who whilil; they boaft a Superiority of ReaXpia to the moil Excellent, C ^40 ] Excellent, fall fliort of the common Senfe of the Loweft. Remember this, that the Fool hath /aid in his Hearty there is no God : But the Atheifts of the Royal Prophet's time were too modeft to declare their Folly ; but thofe of our time arc more impudent, and boaft that Folly as a Per- fedion. I am your loving Friend, Belthazar Duethouoht. LETTER II. The Anfwer to the foregoing Letter. To the Reverend Mr, Duethonsht in Kent- 's* Dear Sir, THESE are to return my Thanks for your lait obliging Letter, in which you difcc- ver fo friendly and Chriftian a Concern for my Welfare. But, my dear Friend, your Fears arc without any real Foundation ; for tho' I am for enquiring into all Religions, yet I could never be fo whimfical as to feek for a Religion among the Free-Thinkers y as they call themfclves ; who openly declare, that they have none. For my part, I have as contemptible an Opinion of them as you can have ; and think the Noble Lord gave Trijle a Reception worthy his Endea- vours : So all fuch Dogs ought to be ufed, when- ever they invade the Security and Happinefs of Families* I look upon the Fee-Thinkers, as they call [ 241 ] call themfclves, to be the Pell of human Society* They are, indeed, the moft mifchievous, and the moft worthlefs Wretches that pretend to the Name of Men. 7 hinkers they flile themfclves, but certainly not from that Notion that we have of the Word, njiz.. the folid Reflection of ratio- nal and immortal Beings, but from that fortui- tous and undefigning Thought, which we may fuppofe to be in meer Animals i and yet I may feem to wrong thofe very meer Animals in put- ting the Free-Thinkers upon a Level with 'cm ; for we can plainly difcover, that thofe regularly purfue a certain End, but the Free-it hmkers none ; or at leaft, none agreeable to Thought, and their Being as Men, (ince they purfue what mufl be deftrudivc of their Well-being, if not of their very Being itfelf : For whilft they take away, and break down the Fences of Confcience and Religion, they rob Mankind of that Secu- rity which is abfolutely neceflary to his Happi- nefs, and which only can render Life^defirable. I cannot difcover what Motives fet thefe MiP creants to work, in publifhing and promoting their Opinions, as foolifh as abominable. If they will needs think fo out of the Vv'^ay, in a man- ner fo unworthy of the Dignity of human Na- ture i if they had rather believe themfclves the Efte<5t of blind Chance than the Produd of eter- nal Wifdom ; if they had rather fancy, that they fhall die like Rats and the other Vermin of the Earth, than enjoy a Life hereafter replenifh'd with fuch Beatitude as is capable of filling the vaft Deiires of a human Mind, enlarged and ele- vated with a wonderful Idea of an omnipotent and gracious God, why don't they fit down with that Freedom of 'thinkings as they call it, and R go [ Z41 ] go oft' the Stage of the World in fome cbfcure HoJc, like their Biother Vermin ? W Uy will they, i\om Free-Thi/ikerSy become licentior.s Writers? Why will they be fo officioufly bufy to promote their pernicious Opinions ? They can't pretend Confcience fets them to work, that they have difclaim'd ; but what Confcience can there be, when, according to them, there is neither Reli- gion nor God, the very Foundation of all Con- fcience ? I mud therefore declare, that thov.gh I am for a Liberty of Reafoning, I think thefe Wretches ought to be extirpated with Death; and that becaufe they do not reafon, but endea- vour to banter us out of all that is good and va- luable with a poor wretched Sarcafm, or a ridi- culous Pun or Conundrum. / am your humble Servamj Caleb Seeker. G(^G Q^)Q0O GQ(QQ QOQQO Q Q^)S&g)0 LETTER III. On FAME. Lnudumque iiwnenfa Cupido. To Mr. Praifelove, to be left at Button's Coffec-houfe^ RufTel-ftreet, Covent-Gar- devij London. My dear Friend, WHilif I amufe myfclf here in the Country, partly with Books, and partly with our rural Diverlions, I fometimes look back on thofe brisk [ H3 1 brisk Enjoyments I ufed formerly to meet with in the Town ,• and as it is natural to all Men, I endeavour to give the Advantage to my prefent Condition ; for he that does not fo, muft be un- eafy, and confequently unhappy ; for fuch Un- ealinefs roufes our dormant Defires to Wifties of fomeching we cannot attain. This makes me prefer the Pleafures of Solitude tothofe more gay and more noify Purfuits of you Men of Bulinefs and Adion. I confefs indeed, that you are not one of thofe who dehght in hunting a Fortune, and preffing through Crowds with AflUduity and Obfequioufnefs to the Great and Powerful, who are the only Difpenfators of the Goods of Fortune. Eut th^n you follow a- nother Chace not lefs incumbred with Fatigue and Uncertainty, that isy Praife, Fame, Repu- tation, from the Performances of your Wit, your Learning, and efpecially your Poetry. Yes, my Friend, I know, and have been VVitnefs of your Satisfaftion and Joy upon the Applaufe that has been given to your Works by the Judicious,* for I mufi; do you that Juftice, I never found you at all exalted at Acclamations of the Vulgar, of the Ignorant M^oud-be-iuits of the Age ; that you defpis'd as too tranfitory a Satisfaction to be the Objed of your Endeavour. But, my Friend, is not the Applaufe of all this World fo fiiort and tranfitory, that it has but the Life of a Dream } like that it vaniflies when Deatn wakes us to Eternity. What Bene- fit did Homery Virgily Horace^ Ovidy and tlie refl of the great Poets of Antiquicy, gain by the uni- verfai Applaufe their Works have every Day met with to this Day } What Benefit in their Lives had they from this } They only had theSatisfac- R z tion [ ^44 ] tion of the Admiration that was paid them Wiiilft rhcy liv 'd j thougii I confefs that they had another, pe haps as tranfporting, that is, that their Fame fhould be immortal. This puts me in Mind ot a Dream 1 had the other Might ^ I thought I vvwiit into one oF thofe Celebrated Coftee-houfes, which was a Refort of Men of Wit a! d Learning, and where I had never been before : Difconrfe, methoughts, foon brought me to their Knowledge. Is this, faid one, the great Mr. Critei ? I have long, faid another, wifli'd to fee and embrace the Man, whole Works have fo often charm'd me. In fhorr, e\''ery one paid me their Compliment, and I found an inward Tranfport at f.ich a Reception from fo many Men of Learning : But I immediately awak'd, and ail that Pleafure vanifli'd ; and fuch is all the Reputation of the World, and no more. I am not here declaiming againll Fame and Reputation itfelf ; for thougli it be of no longer Date than Life, yet the Djfire of it has been the happy Source of the greateft and bravcfl Ad:ions than ever were. Nor wou'd I have you think, that what I faid, is level'd againft the nicefl: Purfuic of Fame, Poetry : No, I have another Opinion of that Art, than to fay any thing mean or little of it. Qui mentem m^igni-f appUcaty Det primos Verfibus annos. Thefe are the Words of Petronim Arbiter, a Man equally skill'd in Men and Letters ; by which it is plain he thought, and wWich is cer- tainly fo inFa, and if you were really pofl'efs'd of your charming Charkka^ would not your Joy foon vanifh like a Dream, and you wake to Satiety and Difg. ft ? If the Pleafures of a Dream be fhort, are not the Fa- vours of the Fair and of the Great fo too ? and tho^ they laft but a Day, an Hour ; nay, fome- times but a Moment, what a deal of Aflidufty, Fawning, Flattery and flavifii Attendance mufl you pay to obtain them ? but the Pleafures of a Dream, tha' fhort, come freely, unfought for, and uncxpeded ,• and really, I think, are full as fiibftantiai as the other. This puts me in mind of what Profpero fays in The T'empeji j ■ Thefe our AclorSj An I foretold you^ ivere ail Spirits, and Are melted irdo Air, jy/to thin Air ; And like the hafelefs Fabrick of the Vijloti, \the Cloiid-capt Toners, the go/gevui Palaces^ 'Jhefolenm Temples, the great Gkbe itfelf. Tea [ i5o ] Tea all which it inherit, JhalJ dijfohe. And like this infubj}a?nial Pageant fadedy Leave not a T'rack behind. We are all fuch Stuff As Dreams aye made on j and our little Life Is rounded icith a Sleep. For my Paic, I have ofcen thought that our fleeping Hours are as valuable as or.r waking ; and Nature irfelf kxms to h^vc equally divided our Life between tliei.i. 5leep is of" a Sove- reign Ufe, not only to the Heakhy, buc to the Sick ; when \vt luvc tired b<3i:!i our Minds and 01. i. LoJies, in the foola'h Purfuit oF Bjfi- nefs, Power, Riches, or Love, wc are fain to have recourfe to Sleep, to refrefh us, nourifli us, and enable us to go through the Faiif^ues of the following Day. Wuen we arc parch'd with the Fires of violent Fevers, and the Piiyfician's Art is foil'd, and unable to quench the unnatu- ral Flame, if gentle Sleep but hear our Call^ and come to our AlFiltance, the Fire abates, till quite extinguifh*d by his friendly Showers. What Efteem Sleep was in among the Antients, is plain from the Honours they paid it ; firft they made it a God, and his Temple was built with black Marble, tho' his fettled Abode was fix'd among the Ci/n?;ierians, whofe Country was half the Year Night ; hither Juno difpatch'd Jris, to defire him to fend a Dream to Halcyone, to let her know that her Cocyx was fhipwrack'd, that (he might no longer folicit her with Vicftims and Prayers for his fafe and happy Return. The fame Ancients paid fo great a Deference to Sleep, that they took many of their Divinations from thence ; i( what they fought, related to Healchj they flept in the Temple of Mfctda- pifiif [ MI ] pifiSj and that God, always In their Dream, re- veal'd a Remedy for their Malady : It what they fought, related to War, they flepc in the Temple of Alars : If to Love, in that of Venm. They had likewife their lleeping Hero, as Eudy- miony who deeping always on the Top of Mount Lamosy he enjoy 'd the Carefles and Love of Diana ; nor was fhe without a Rival in this droufy Charmer ; a young Nymph, whofe Name I have forgot, was fo enamourM of him, that her Kiffes and Fondnefs fo difturb'd his Re- pofe, and rous'd the Jealou fy of Diana, that fhe turned her into a Flie ; but flie Hill retains tier old Nature, and by an impertinent Fondnefs al- ways dilhirbs the fleeping. But what need I dwell upon the Heathen, fince the facred 'v^/riters afford fuch ample Proof of the Excellence and Importance of Sleep ? There we find Dreams are made ufe of to reveal the Fate and Revolution of Empires : As Pharoah's Dream of the feveii fat and lean Kine, which, by the Interpretation of Jofephf he found to fignify feven Years of Plenty, and CevQii Years of Famine that were to come ; by which means he engrofs'd all the Pro- perty of Egypy and became the abfolute Mafler of his People. Thus in Daniel we find the Fore-knowledge of the feveral Mcr.archies of the World reveal'd to the King of Eajylon^ and interpreted by tluit Prophet. In tiie fame manner many of the Prophecies of Ifa- th, E-^ekiely and others, were delivered to them in Dreams or Vilions, which is all one. Bat you may fay thefe were the Dreams of Princes and Proph.ets, and therefore have little Regard to private Dreams. What think youthen of liie Dreams of die two Fellow-Pnfoners of Jcfepb ^ one .of whofe Dreams Dreams foretold his Rcftoration to the King's Favour, that of the other his being hang'd ? In fhort, to fpend more Time in the Defence of Sleep, might, for ought I know, provoke it in you ; I Ihall only therefore wifii you frequently fuch Dreams as that you defcribc to me ; and defire that you would not think me in a Dream, but thoroughly awake, when I fubfcribe my- ,felf. Tour faithful Friend, Nik Whimsy. LETTER V. On Womeju Varium t^ mutahile femper Foemina nulla bona ejl ; at fi bona contigit ulla, Nefcio quopauio res malafatla bona eft. To John Freely Efq; at his Houfe near Maidfton in Kent. Dear Jack, IReceiv'd your long Letter of the loth paft, and am glad you meet with fo much Plea- fure in the Country ; but I fhan^t be even with you, till I fend you as long a one on feme of the Pleafares of the Town, at leaft, that Part of [ ^55 ] of 'em which engages the Chace of the young Fellows of Spirit. Being confinM to my Cham- bers by a Fit of the Gout, when now the Rage of it was pretty well abated, I admitted the Vifits of my Friends and Acquaintance, to di- vert the tedious Hours. One Day I had a Vifit from Myfogamus and Philcgamus ; foon after came in Gaymood^ T'attle and Pen, Fellows, whofe higheft Ambition is to be in the Ladies Favour ; and all their Difcourfe runs upon the Beauty of Belinda^ the fine Air of Cleliay and the Wit of Berenice. If you chance to mention a glorious Campaign, a Battle bravely fought, and Vidory flill attending our Arms ; Towns and Countries won ,• and the Terror flruck into the Foes by the Bn't/Jb Valour : They fhall pre- fently cry out, Oh ! the invincible Charms of Belinda^ no Mortal can behold her Eyes without being vanquifh'd, without being her voluntary Slave, and bound in fuch agreeable Chains as you'll never defire to be free. Who can hear the penetrating Wit of Berenice, and yet boafl himfelf Maftcr of his own Heart ? Thus they Ihall tell you how many Campaigns they have made in befieging the impregnable Clelia, with an exavS Hiflory of all her Frowns, and the Modes of her Slights and Difdain, as if they were of that Importance that the highefl Glory attended them. After they had fufEciently tired us with this Talk they withdrew What intolerable Coxcombs, cry*d out Myfogamm^ are thefe Fellows, to think that their Follies are an agree- able Entertainment for other Men ; and to tnink that thofe that are Fools to Women lliould be fit [ ^54 ] fit Companions for Perfons of Reafon and Underftanciii.g! I find, laid Phihgamm, as filly as you efleem thefe Men, rhey have been able to raife your Spleen agairft the fair Sex ,• your Eyes, and the Vehemence of your Voice difcover it. I con- fefs, reply'd he, that when I hear the moft tri- fling Part of the Creation extoll'd and ador'd like fomething divine, I am not able to keep my Temper. That I was born of a Woman was not my Choice, and therefore, I think, has no right to engage me m their Caufe ; Genera- tion, indeed, is the only valuable Ufe of Wo- man-kind ; Nature has thought fit to give them a Share in our Produftion, for which only they are efteem'd by the more wife eafierly Nations, where they are Icok'd on no more than as the firfl Rank of Slaves; accordingly their Lives are commonly in the Hands and Will of the Husband. In other Parts they are obliged to die and be burnt with their dead Husbands. During the Prevalence of the Dodrine of the Dniids in Gaul and in Britain^ who were thought to derive their Principles from the Nations of the Eafi, the Women entirely depended on the Will of the Men, who coyld put them off, or put them to Death, as they thought fit : If that Power may be thouglit too arbitrary for humane kind, too often dircfted by the Paffions; the other Extream of fiibjefting the Men to the Humour of a Creature that is guided by no- thing q\(q^ is fully as abfurd : To admit Women to an Equality of Share in the Government of Families, to place our Pleafure and Happinefs in them, is a Madnefs that only prevails in the Northern Part of the World, where Men are noE [ ^$5 ] not warm'd by the gracious Influence of the Sun into finer and more exalted Notions ,• and hence proceeds moft, if not all our Difquiet and Miferies. Were they, indeed, endowed with KnowIedgejReafon, Virtue, Refolution, Honour, Conftancy and Chaftity, we might have more Reafon to juftify our Condud in this Particular: But whilll in them there is only Ignorance, an Impotence of Paffion, Inconflancy, Luft, and the like, we go on in the old Track, only becaufe our Fore-fathers fhew'd us the way. But to come to Particulars, how fhould they have Knowledge ? that comes from Education, from Study, from the Experience of a wife Obferver ,• whereas the whole Education of Wo- man is Ipent in Trifles, in learning how to drefs themfelves, and givQ their Faces the bcit Air they can, to captivate the Fools that admire 'em. How (hould they have Virtue ? that like- wife depends upon Knowledge. Who reads to them the Maxims of Moral Philofophy, and by that Means fets before their Eyes the Nature, Limits or Bounds of thefcveral Virtues.^ Their Female Inftrudors know nothing of it, their Male Teachers as little ; all that they learn from thefe, is either a Tune upon the Spinet, a Song, or a Dance j they inform them in the Steps of a Minuet, a Rigardoon, or fome other French Dance, whofe Name, I thar.k my Stars, I know nothing of; the chief Leiibns that are in- culcated into them are Pride, the gratifying their Appetites, and the feveral little Arts of Coquetry : Thus qualified, tluis adorned, thus inftruded, t!iey fet out to be Miflrcfi'es of Fa- milies, and fliaring in the Government of them with the mod wife and knowing of Husbands ; which which if they deny them, nothing but Strife and Diftiirbance cnfue ; nor can any thing ap- peafe them, but the entire Subjedion of the Husband, as well as Family, to their Will. Bat to fay all that I could fay upon this Sub- ject, would, I am afraid, tire you, and make you think that I had nothing to offer in this Caufe bat general Invedives. This Part there- fore of my Difcourfe 1 fhall conclude with this Quotation out of the incomparable Onvay^ in his Orphan. IVho was it betray' d the Capitol ? Woman. Who loft Mark Anthony the World? Woman. J^^o was the Caufe of a long ten Tears War, And laid, at lafl^ old Troy in AJhes ? Woman. Deftrucltvey damnable, deceitful Woman ! Woman to Man firft as a Blefjing gi'ven. When Innocence and Love were in their Prime; Happy J a while, in Paradife they lay. But quickly Woman longd to go aftray ; Some foolijh new Adventure needs mufl prove. And the fir ft Devil jhe Jaw, Jhe changd her Love ; To his "Temptations lewdly Jhe inclind Her Soul, and for an Apple damn'd Mankind. Otway is content with a few Inftances of the Perfidioufnefs, Inconflancy, and Dellrudivenefs of Womankind, but thofe which were eminent, and concern'd in the Happinefs of great Men, of great Nations -, and, in fine, of all humane kind. Were we, indeed, to number all tlie Ex- amples of the fatal Vices and Follies of that Sex, which the Hiftory of all Nations affords us, I fliould want Time, tho' I fpent whole Years in the Narration, to give you one Half of theif t ^57] their Number. What are the unnatural Lulls of the Pafiphaes^ the adulterous Loves of the Stem- b He, to obtain the Name of a God, threw him- felf into Mount Mtna. What think you of Alexander the Great, who, defpifing his own Fa- ther Philip, would needs be thought the Son of Jupterj and be flatter'd with the Name of Toto?g Ammon ? What think you of the celebrated Augujlm Cafar, who aftbrds us a double Exam- ple in this Cafe ? one of intolerable Ingratitude, the other of this particular Vanity which you mention. Ciceyo the famous Roman Orator, the jnoft Eloquent of Mankind, Excellent in all Parts of human Literature, receiv'd Auguftuf, then called OBavius, coming to Rome after the Death of Julim Cafar, without Intereft or Friends of any Power, promoted him in the Commonwealth, contrary to the Opinion and Pcrfualion of Bru- tusj called him Sou, and prevailed to have him chofen Conful, even before he was of legal Age to enjoy that Authority. What did the young OBavim do in Return of all thcfe Favours? be- ing polVefs'd of the Roman Army by Cicero s In- tereft, he join'd Mark Anthony and Lepidpti, and forming the fecond Triumvirate, cemented this new League with the Blood of his Father O- cero, furrendrir.g him in the Profcription to his inveterate and malicious Enem.y Anthony. Au- gujlus being at laft fole Emperor of Rome, ad- inittcd all the grofs Flatteries of that Time to- uaicis the making him a God, and permitted Altars to be erefted to him as fuch. What What you tell us of Mejfalina and her exorbi- tant Lull: ; as great as it was, it was flill kept within the Bounds of Nature, and terminated in Man : But caft your Eyes to the Ifle of Caprea^ whither the Tyrant T'tkrius^ the Suc- ceiibr of ^/e' hel^ but take no manner of Notice of Delorah, Judith, or any other of the Scripture-Heroines, who were eminent for great and brave Ac- tions. You fall upon the Education of Womankind, to render them the more contemptible and odi- ous. I do myfelf allow, that the Education of Women in thefe Parts, and in our Time, is very defedive and faulty : But is that the Fault of Wo- men ? No certainly,' it is the Defed: of Men, who have the Dire6tion of pubiick Affairs. But it is a very unfair Way of Comparifon to put the Men, v/ho have had Education, againft the Women who have none ; and yet I appeal to any Man that knows Converfation, whether a Woman, coming from their Schools, be not more vakiable Company than many a meer Scholar coming from the Univerfity, knowing nothing of Mankind, and skilled only in Words. The fairefl Way of examining the Merit of Man and 1166-] and Woman is to confider them both with- out Education. Look among the Vulgar, and you fliall find ten to one among the Women, who have more Senfe and Prudence than their Husbands. But that I may not be behind-hand with you in Examples, I fhall give you three from ancient Hiftory, of Fidelity and Conftancy, which is a Virtue you almoft deny the Sex, which yet you will fcarce find amongft the Men. Plutarch, in his Morals, furnifhes mc with two of thofe I fhall mention, and in his Lives with the third. Camma was a Galatian Lady of exqnifite Beau- ty, but the Virtue and Conftancy of her Mind far furpafl'ed the Charms of her Perfon ; Ihe was marry *d to Cinnams a Tetrarch, or petty Prince among the Galatians ; the Love was mu- tual between them both, but her Charms ex- tended farther by much than ftie d^Cixcd; for they had made fo entire a Conquefi: over Sy norix, that he could not think of any Happinefs without the Pofleffion of her ; to obtain which, he employ 'd all his Arts, his Cunning, and Importunity, but to no Purpofe ; flie remain'd untouched with all his amorous Addrefles, and made it evident to him how much llie detefted his Criminal Endeavours ,• but this enflam'd his Love into Rage, and pufh'd him on to murder her Husband Cimiatus, upon which fhe fled to the Temple of Diana, and there fecur'd herfelf, by becoming a Votary to that Goddefs, accor- ding to the Cuftom of the Country. She rejeded all the Solicitations of thofe nu- merous Lovers, whom her Beauty had rais'd to admire her. At laft, Symrix, hoping the Me- mory [i<^7] mory of what he had done was pretty well over, ventured to her, and renew'd his Suit, aflliring her that it was no Mah'ce, no Revenge, no little Intereft that had prevail'd with him to deftroy Cinnatus, but the abfolute Defpair of ob- taining her any other way; that if in that he had been guilty of a Crime, fhe had the leaft Reafon to accule him of all humane kind, iince it was the Efted: of her Charms. She feem'd to admit all he faid, as a Truth not to be controverted, and therefore foon agreed to marry him. The Ceremony was to be per- formed in that Temple of Diana, where ftie had fo long refided -, among which Ceremonies, the drinking to her future Husband, was one ; Canima had prepar'd a Draught in which there was mix'd a deadly Poifon, half of it flie drank off to him, and he foon pledged her in the other half. We have gone far enough, fays £he i and now, my dear Cinnatus, Ihave rruengd tJoy Death, tho^ hy the Lofs of my own Life, the Life that has only been thus long tolerable to me, in hopes to obtain this Event, xuhich is now come to pafs. In fliort, the Murderer foon dy'd full of Rage, and fhe foon followed with a great deal of Satisfaclion. The next Inftance I fhall give you, is out of. the Lives of Plutarch. Cleombrotm being Son-in- Law to Leonida6, King of Sparta, was made King in his Room, and Collegue with Agls. On another Turn, Leonidas was reftor'd, and Agis fled CO the Temple of 'Juno, and Cleombro^ tus to that of Neptune. Leonidas, now incens'd againft his Son-in-Law, meddled not with Agisy but, with his Soldiers, went to the Sanduary of Cleombrotus, and there, with great Paffion, re- proach'd him with confpiring with his Enemies, ufurping [ 1(58 ] iiruiping his Throne, and forcing him from his Country, tho' he was his Son-in-Law. Cleom- hrotusj having little to fay for himfcif, flood fi- lent. His Wife Chelonis^ the Daughter cf Leoni- das, had been a Partner in her Father's Sufte- rings ; for when Cleombmns iifiirp*d the King- dom fhe forfook him, and wholly apply'd herfelf to comfort her Father in his Afflidion .; whilil he was in Sanduary flie flay'd with him, and when he fled fhe fled with him, bewailing his Misfor- tune, and extreamly difpleas'd with Clcombrotns. But now, upon this Turn of Fortune, fhe was as zealous and ailiduous in Expreffionsof Love and Duty to her Husband, whom flie cmbrac'd with one Arm, and her two little Children with the other : All Men were flrangely taken with the Piety and tender Afteftion of the young Wo- man, who, in a loofe neglected Mourning, with a pale dejeded Countenance, and in a fuppliant Poflure, fpokc thus to Leonidas. *' I am not brought to this Condition you fee " me in, nor have taken upon me this Mour- ** ning Habit, by reafon of the prefent Misfor- *' tunes of Cleombrotus ; it is long fince fami- " liar to me ; it was put on to condole with ** you in your Banifiiment, and now you arc '* rellored to your Country and Kingdom, mufl: ** I flill remain in Grief and Mifery ? Or would *' you have me attii'd in my Feflival Ornaments ** that I may rejoyce with you, when you have " killed, within my Arms, the Man to whom *' you gave me for a Wife ? Either Cleomhyotus " ruuH appeafe you by mine or my Childrens " Tears, or he mud fuffer a Punifhment greater " than his Faults deferv'd, he fnall infallibly fee *^ me die before him, whom he has profcf'^'d ten- r derly [1.59 1 *' derly to love. To what End fhould I live ? *^^ or how Ihall I appear among the Spartan " Ladies, when it fhall fo manifeilly be feen, " that I have not been able to move Corapaflion '' either in a Husband or a Father ? I was " born, it feems, to be difhonour'd and dif- *' grac'd, both as a Wife and a Daughter, with " that Relation which is neareft to me in each " Capacity. As for Cleombrotusy I have fufficient- " ly difown'd his Caufe, when I forfook him to " follow you j but now yourfelf will juflify his " Proceedings, by ftiowing to the World, that " for the fake of a Kingdom, it is juft to kill a " Son-in-Law, and be regardlefs of a Daughter. Cheknts having ended the Lamentation, turn'd her weeping Eyes towards the Spedators, then gently repos'd her Head on her Husband's Bofom. Leonidas, touch'd with Compallion, withdrew a while to advife with his Friends ; then returning, condemned Ckombrotus to a per- petual Banifhment. Cheloms^ he faid, ought to flay with him, it not being juft that fhe fliould forfake a Father, who had granted, at her Inter- ceffion, the Life of her Husband. But all he could fay, could not prevail with her to ftay ; fhe took up, immediately, one of her Children in her Arms, and gave the other to her Huf- band : Then, having performed her Devotions at the Altar where fhe had taken Sanftuary, flie chearfuUy followed him into Banifhment To be fhort, fo great was the Virtue and Ge- nerofity exprefs'd by ChekniSy on this Occafion, that if Ckombrotus were not ilrangely blinded by Ambition, he would chufe to be bani(h'd with fo excellent a Woman, ratlier than without her to poflefs a Kingdom. I fhall [ i7o ] I fhall only add one Hiftory more out of the fame Author ; and that is of Empoyuiy a Princefs among the Galatiansy who being marry 'd to SabinuSy a young Nobleman of Romey had the Misfortune fcon after to have her Husband en- gaged in a Revolt againfl: Vefpajian the Emperor, ana to mifcarry in his Attempt fo far, that he was fain to fly for his Life, and had no Hopes left of Security againfl: the Purfuit of his Ene- mies, but by giving out among his Servants that he defign'd to poifon himfelf ,- and difmifling all but two, in whom he particularly confided, he retir'd to a Country-houfe of his, where there were very large and deep Vaults, and whither he had convey'd the mofl: valuable of his Efleds. Entring thefc Vaults, he fent one of his Servants to tell his Wife, that he had taken Poifon, and that the Houfe being burnt to the Ground, had confum'd his Body. His Wife receiv'd the News with the utmofl: Grief and Defpair, which daily grew to fuch an Excefs, that is was to be fearM flie would not long furvivc it ,• of which Sahiniis being inform 'd, he ordered his faithful Servant privately to inform her of the Secret of his Life and Aboad, adding this Caution, that fhe fliould take care to continue the Appea- rance of her Sorrow, to confirm the World in the Opinion of his imagined Death ; and this fiie performed with that artfuU Addrcfs, that it was univerfally believ'd that Sabmus was no more. But Empona was fo impatient for the Sight of her Husband , that in the Night-time fiie conftantly wen: to fee him, and fpent many Hours v;irh him in the difmal Caverns of his Retreat, flill taking care ro return to her own Apart^ [ i?! ] Apartment in the City, without the leaft Dis- covery. In this manner flie fpent her Time for at leaft nine Months, when llie was brought to bed, without any Help, of two lovely Boys, one of which liv'd in the Time of our Author ; but impatient for her Husband's Safety, (having his Beard, flie dreft him up in Women's Apparel, and carry 'd him with her to Rome, in Hopes to procure his Pardon, by her earneft Solicitations of the Emperor ; but Vefpafian was a Prince too jealous of Empire, ever to forgive a Crime of that Nature ; jfo that flie fent her Husband back to his lurking Place, and try'd farther herfelf what fhe could do. In this Negotiation her Love urg'd her to fuch Expreffions, as provoked the Emperor to put her to Death, alluring him that fhe had rather die than live to fee him Emperor. Well, MyfogamuSj What think you of the Con- flancy of VVomankind, from thefe three Examples? Will you iniift on the Ephejian Matron, a mere Fidion, as a Proof of the Inconftancy of the Sex, and yet not allow thefe true Hiftories as an Evi- dence of the contrary ? If you tell us of Mejfa-' lina^ give me leave to put you in Mind of Z.«- cretia^ fo eminent for her ChaiHty, that it is grown into a Proverb, As chajle as Lucretia. What think you of Portia, the Wife of the fecond Brums ? Did not flie difcover more than a manly Conflancy in her Death ? Did fhe not prove that Secrets of the higheft and moft dan- gerous Confequences might be confided to a Woman, when her Husband Brutus trufted her with the whole Confpiracy againll Cafar? Thefe, you'll fay, are but particular Women, and afford but little Advantage to the Genera- lity C i70 lity of the Sex : I grant they are particular, but fo are all thofe Inflances you have given of theit Vices and Follies ; we are therefore, in that Point, upon a Level. I fiiall give you, ex ahindante, fome Ex- amples of Bodies of Women, who have join'd in great and glorious Adions. Tije Perf.ansy in a Battle with their Enemies, were worded and fled away before them, till thr y were ftopt by the Virgins and Matrons of that Country, who, reproaching them with their Cowardice, cry*d, tj/lmher will ye fly ? IVbat! into the Wombs that hre yoUj from the Terror of your Foe? who are terrible only by your Fear : Turn tljerefore again ^ and fight manfully for your Mothers^ your Wives, and your Children, or elfe gne us )cur Weapons to defend our- feheSy and refcue the Glory cf the Perfian Narne, Touched with this Valour of tiie W omen, they made Head againft the Enemy ; and fo turning the Fortune of the Day, obtained a glorious Viftory. When Ro7nubu had found in Rome he had but little Profped of making it continue longer than the Lives of his prefent Subjtrds, for he wanted Women to produce a Pollericy, the neigh- bouring Cities and Countries refuling their Daughters for their Wives, looking on them to be a fcaudalous Company of Fellows got to- gether out of all Italy by the Afylum fet up by Romulus; he exhibited Shows and Speftacles, which brought great Numbers of the Sabine young Women to behold tnem ; and, upon a Sign given, the Romans feiz'd each a Sabine Wo- man for his Wife, and carry'd them off to Rome. The Sabines, a warlike People, foon took to their Arms to revenge the Afri'ont, and refcue the Women. [ ^7^ ] Women. Moft terrible, certainly^ had been ths Slaughter, and, perhaps, fatal to the infant State of komcy had not Herfiliay and the reft of the Sabine Women, who had been thus rayiih'd by the Romans, come into the Field of Battle betwixt both Armies, and with moft pathetick Addreflcs to their Parents and Relations on one Side, and their Husbands on the other, brought them to a friendly Parly ,• and fo in the End united both Nations. Conrade, the third Emperor of Germany, be- iieging Guelpho, Duke of Bavaria, reduced the Town to that Extremity, that the Duke was fain to fubmit to a Parly. But all the Terms he could obtain, were, that the Women fliould de- part in Peace, bearing with them only fo much of their moft valuable Goods as each could carry off: The Dutchefs therefore, and the reft of that Sex, from the Higheft to the Loweft, went out, bearing each on her Back her Huf- band. Being come out of the Town thus load- ed, the Emperor was fo touched with the Gene- rofity of the Adion, that he forgave the Duke/ and received him ever after into peculiar Fa- vour. You have objeded to the Sex Ignorance ,• but that, in reality, is not a Fault in Woman-kind, but in. the Men, who deny them all thofe Im- provements of Knowledge and Learning which they enjoy, and are fo proud of themfelves ; and yet I could enumerate a long Roll of Wo- men, illuftrious in every Part of Literature, but that Time and my Memory forbid me at this prefent. I Ciall only mention a very few that Qccur ; What think you of Deborah, fo learned in the Laws of the ifradites^ that ihe judged T Ifrael [ ^74 ] IJrael for feveral Years? nor was that Nation ever more profperous, till the Time of David or Solomon. She was hkewife an excellent Poetefs, as her fublime Song on the Deflrudtion of Sifera by '^aeljhovci. What think you of T'heano^ the Wife of P)thagoras, who taught his School in Phi- lofophy after his Death ? We mull: not omit Afpnftdy the Athenian Courtefan, fo eminent for her Learning, both in Philofophy and Politicks, that the- greateft Men of that Age were infirufted by her in both. How many of the Grecian Women were ex- cellent in Poetry ? Sappho, Erimia, Corinna^ and many more, are fnfficient Proofs of this Truth. The great Pindar was inftrudcd in the Art of Poetry by a V/oman : And Corinna, his Contem- porary, often reproached him in his Youth, that he did not underftand what it was to be a Poet, fpending all his Time and Pains in the Study of Words and Expreffions, never produ- cing one Proof that he was able to form a Fable, which was the principal Duty and Cha- raderiftick of a Poet, and without which he could only pretend to be a mere Verfifier. But let us pafs from Greece to Rome ; there we find Cornelia, the Mother of the Gracchi, inflrufting her Sons, Caipii and T^ikrim, in Eloquence, and in Virtue, and in Refolution, by which they made the laft fraud for the true Liberty of Rome ; for, on their Death, the Ballancc of Power turned entirely to the Nobility, by the Deftruftion of the Agrarian Law. To come to the Moderns. I can*c omit Anna Maria fan Schurmnn, a Flemijh LadyjWhofe learned Writings were in greatElleem among Men of Letters above a Century ago ; among which is a Defence of her owii Sex-, written in eloquent Latin. The next I Ihall mention. [ ^75 ] mention, for I mufl: draw to an End, is the prefent learned Madam Dacier, who is fo great a Miftrefs of the Greek, that flie has given us ad- mirable Verfions of Ho7neY and Sophochs y befides many learned Difcourfes, which prove her to be one of the foremofl Criticks of the Age. I lliall conclude with England^ where, among the Learned, we ftiall find the Daughter of Sir I'homas More in the Time of King Henry VIlIj the immortal Queen Eliz^abeth; and in later Times, the Lady Packingtoriy Author of T'he Whole Duty of Man. In Poetry likewife many of our Englijh Ladies have been eminent, as Cowley's fam'd Orinda, Mrs. Apharra Behny who feem'd to have the Soul of Sappho transfused into her. Here I mufl not omit the admirable Mrs. Singer, as chaffe in her Writings, as nervous and fublime. I might mention others ftiil living, but thefe are fufEcient to prove, that Ignorance is not always the Crime of the Ladies ; and that the fineft Arts and Sciences Ihine fometimes in that Sex. But you prefs hard, that no Woman was ever yet a Patronefs of Learning. .1 confefs I am not able to give any particular Inftanccs ot the contrary ; but this I can fay, that the Men have but very little Reafon to boaft of any Ad- vantage above them in that Particular, that for tv/o thoufand Years, excepting the Athenian State, and the Reign of Augujim Cafar, there have not appear'd ten Men worthy the Name of Patrons of Arts. Here Philcgamus made, an End, and Myfiga- ■ ?nm was preparing to return him an Anfwer, when Sir John Friendly s Man came up to my Chambers, and told me his Mafler vs^as coming T 2 to to pay me a Vifir, if I was not other ways en- fjag'd. I ordered my Man to go down to Sir 5?o/;k, and defire his Company, fince the Gout would not permit me to wait on him myfelf. This put an End to our Difpute, and the two Pleaders for and againfl VVomen took their Leaves, unconvinced, Jike other Difputants, by each others Arguments. Thus I have fent you a Letter as long as I threatened ; and fhall only add to it, that I am Tour faithful Friend, and humble Servant, Philip Neithersidz. LETTER VL On B E AUTT. Forma bonum fragile ■ O Fmmofe puer nimium ne crede color i. To Mr. Clearwit at his Chainber^ i?i Lincoln's-Inn. Dear Friend^ YOU( ten me, In yours of the fifteenth paft, that you deiire to exercife your Talent in Poetry upon the following Subject. That [^77] That tho all People agree that Beauty is to he ad-^ nifr'dy yet no ate hen told us luhat Beauty is, or have fixd any Standard of it. You tell me that you have tryM in vain to pleafe yourfelf iw writing upon it, and there- fore depute the Task to your humble Servant. I muft confefs, it is with a great deal of Reluc- tance that I can think of denying you any thing j but I muft be fo free as to declare, that, in my Opinion, this is, by no means, a Subjefl for Poetry \ at leaft, for any Poetry above an Epi- gram : 'Tis true, Cowley has play'd upon it wantonly enough, but I think with no Poetical Genius : Be you the Judge, thefe are his Words. Beauty y thou xvildfantafiick Ape, Who dofi in every Country change thy Shape : flere Black, there Brovin, here T'aiDney^ and there (White. Thou Flatterer y "who comply fi with every Sight, P0^o hafi no certain what, nor where, "^ Butvarfjl ftill, and do Ji thyfelf declare > Inconftant, ci6 thy She-Profejfors are. j Cowley here tells us of the Uncertainty what Beauty is, but proceeds not by Ratiocina- tion to folve the Riddle propos'd ; that is, how we come to admire it without a Definition of it. He plainly faw that was too uncouth and barren a SubjeA for Verfe; nor, indeed, do I fee any Curiolity in it that is worthy our Inquiry, even in Profe. Your Friend feems to me to miftake the Matter quite, in fuppoling that to love a beau- tiful Objed:, without knowing what Beauty is, implies a fort of Contradidion, as ii Inclina- jtion and Knowledge were fo infeparable, that J I they [ i7S ] . they could not fubfill afandcr. I would fain ask him , whether we are not all fcnfible* of Light and Keat, tho' few but the Learned can g!ve a Definition of either : And therefore his Qiiefiion, of how it cpmes to pafs that we love Beauty without knowing whiit it is, is eafily anfwLT'd, by afuiring him that it is the Efted of that Inclination which Nature has fixM in all Mv-^n towards the fair Sex ; and tho', perhaps, ic cannot be deduc'd to a general Definition, yet every Man in Love will be able to defcribe the Beauties of his Charmer. Dryden fays thus on Beauty. T^I.e Caufe of Love can never he njj}gndy ^''Tii in no Face, but in the Loie/s Mind. But I muft diflent from this great Poet, bccaufe it is the Beauty of the Mifcrefs that firft fixes herfelf in the Mind cf the Lover ; for that there is fuch a Thing as real Beauty, there is no man- ner of Queftion. Ask the Painters and the Sta- tuaries, they will tell you the Features and Pio- portions that compofe this perfect Beauty. ApHes, when he drew his Vmtis, the Wonder of the old World, framed fo perfed an Idea of Beauty, that all the Women of Greece and Afui CO; Id not furnifh h'm with an Original to copy j he therefore took the moft excellent Features lie could fi: d in the moft beautiful Women cf his Age, and put them together in one Figure with that Addr.fs and Art, that he made it worthy of the Goddefs of Beauty. This fhows plain- ly that we are not fo much to feek what Beauty is, nor in the Features nor Proportions that com- pofe it, as ycnr m.iftaken Friend feems to ima- p"ne, [ 279 ] gine. Again we have extant the Aphrodite, or Venus, olf the G Hoiu fitly to thefparkling Eyes it joyns ; j IVhile gaily pleajtng they, and fweetly bright. Fill each Beholder s Heart v.nth dear Delight, See on the bhomy Cheeks fo jrejhly fpread, So duly 7mxt tloe native IVhite and Red : Mark what juU. Rofes on the Lips appear, IVhai Sweets they breath, what balmy Dew they (wear. But lofi and endlefs zvere my Pains to trace The vafi Infinity of Beauty's Grace. Why fbould the Mufe in lavijh Nimibers fpeak T'he golden T'reffes, or the ivry Neck ? Why Jlmild the bajljful Nymph attempt to tell. What [oft round Globes on rifing Bofomsfwell? T 4 ^^^t [ z8o ] H^atfecret Charms fince Modejiy denies^ And bars the bold Accefs of wanton Eyes : • Blujhing xvith decent Grace j her Feiljhe draws, Andjhields the Fair from Shame , by Cufioms rC" {ver end Laws. It is this Beauty that has thofe wonderful Effefts mentioned by the Poets, and commands the Admiration of all that behold it, as Sfencer defcribes it in the following Lines. T^otight under Heaven fo firongly doth allure 'The Senfe of Man, and all his Mind pojfefs^ As Beauty's lovely Baity that doth procure. Great Warriors of their Rigor to reprefr. And mighty Hands forget their Manlinefs ; Drawn with the Power of an Heart-rcbbing Eye, And wrapt in Fetters of a golden T'refsy That can wrth melting Pleafance mollify Their harden d Hearts, inur'dto Blood and Cruelty. So whilom learn d that mighty Jewijh Swain, Each of whofe Locks did match a Man of Might, 'Jo lay his Spoils before his Lemans Train : So alfo did the great Cetean Knight, For his Love's Sake his Lion's Skin undight. Andfo did warlike Anthony negleSi 'the World's whole Rule for CleopatraV Sight. Such wondrous Power has Woman's fair Afpe^y To captive Men, and make them all the World (mgleEf. This is fufficient to fay upon the Force of Beauty, whofe rightful Power no Body ever yet The Advantages it yields to Mankind are innu- merable. Does Chloris prove falfe ? Does Vhillis prove cruel .^ Have recourfe to the Bottle, and you defpife the Jilt, and laugh at the Coquet. Does my Lord Haughty overlook you ? The fe- cond Bottle raifes you above the Infolent Pa- geant. Are ye troubled with the Folly of Bafli- fulnefs.^ Drink hwx. quantum fu^at, and you gai^ Aflfurance enough to be impertinent with the Fair and the Great. Does your Modefty deny your Tongue the graceful Utterance of your Thoughts ? Drink but Wine enough, you'll be more eloquent than Ckero. This puts me in Mind of a Story of Sir T'homcu More^ who being fent Ambaifador to the Emperor by King Henry the Eighth, the Morning he was to have his Audience, knowing the Virtue of Wine, ordered his Servant to give him a good large Glafs of Sack J and having drank that, call'd for another: The Servant, with officious ignorance, would have dilTuaded him from it, but in vain; the Ambaifador drank off the fecond, and demanded a third, which he likewife drank off; infilling pn a fourth, he was over-perfuaded by his Ser- vant to let it alone; fo he went to his Audience. ]But returning home again, call'd for his Servant, and [2.85] and threatning him with his Cane, Tou Rogue, faid he, ruhat Mifchief have you done me ! I /poke fo ice II to the Emperor , on the Infpiration ofthofe three Glajfes that I drank, that he told me I waa fit to govern three Parts of the World. Mow, you Dogy if J had drank the fourth Glafs^ I had been fit to gO" 1/ern all the MA)rld. I could tell you of a certain Statefman that made once a great Noife in the World, who form'd all his political Schemes over a Bottle ; when Company was gone, he order'd Pen, Ink and Paper to be brought him, and four Bottles of Wine, with a Pipe of Tobacco indeed to help out ; and fo he writ, drank and fmoak'd, till his Liquor was out, and then he went to Bed. By thefe Politicks was a Nation governed fome time i and not a few fay, very wifely j but as to that I don't pretend to give my Opinion : But if there were any Faults in his Miniftry, I am fure of this, they were owing to himfelf, and not his Liquor. Courage has been infpired in our modern Pays by good Liquor ; for the Dutch had ne- ver maintained themfelves fo well againft our Fleet, and oftentimes worfted us under Van 'trump and Be Rimer , but that the Morning be- fore they engaged, they out-drank us. But I have one thing to fay to you, which I had forgot, and which relates to yourfelf. I know you have a mighty Inclination to Poetry; but if you would have your Verfes live, you muft leave off drinking of Water; fince your Mafter Horace fays. That no Verfes can live long that are written by Water- Drinkers. I am juft caird down to fome Friends with whom \ fiiaU pafs fome merry Hours over a Bottle of Bwgun- C ^86 ] dy, and therefore mufl draw to an End, only ad- vifing thee, in.fhort, to leave the mecr Element, and come to the Juice of the Grape. Drink and forget thy Sorrows, for this World is too ridi- culous and fantaflical to be ferious in ; but I am foberly ^nd ferioufly 'Thy faithful Friend, Timothy Break- of-day. L E T T E R VIII. On Blindnefs. IP^y "ivas the Sight To fuch a tender Ball as tl) Eye confind. So obvious y and fo eafy to be qiiencljd ? And net, as Feeling, thro all Parts diffused. That jhe might look at VjiH thro* evei-y Pore ? Milton To Mr/. M dale on Lambeth-Hillj London. M A D A M, THAT I have not writ to you all this while, has been occaflon'd by the Badnefs of my Sight, which has now lefc me in an ab- folute Blindnefs : I fee no more the glorious Sun, the flow'ry Meads and purling Brooks, nor hu- man Face divine^ as Alilton has it. I think that .. great [z87] great Poet, though he has written admirably upon the Lofs of Sight, feems too uneafy un- der his Misfortune, and to repine at that Dif- penfation of Providence ; but I, who have all along refign'd myfelf to the Will of Heaven, endeavour to make every Difappointment as little troublefome as I can ; and to find out all the Advantages that a Misfortune can aftbrd me. Thus I trouble not myfelf with anxious Thoughts of the good Things I have loft, but fix in my Mind the uneafy Gbjeds that Sight often gives us. This Senfe frequently milleads us to Partiality in our Favours by the fmooth Appearance and hypocritical Countenance of thofe we converfe with, which prepares us to receive all they fay and offer with too much Indulgence ; Loquere m te uideam^ was the faying of a \Vife Man ; that is, (for I forgot I was writing to a Lady) fieak that I may fee thee. For, indeed, the Eyes bring to our Knowledge only the Body, but the Ear conveys to us the Soul of the Perfon that fpeaks; by them we find whether he be a Man of Senfe, Judgment, Wit and Learning ; and by a fiequent and long Converfation with him, informs us whether he be led by the Principles of Honour and Honefty, or by the loofer Maxims of the Age ; for it is a dfiEcult matter for the moft cunning Hypocrite to difguife himfelf fo far, but that a Man of Judgment will by fome Words or other, at leaft in his unguarded Hours, dis- cover the Cheat. There is another Evil the Lofs of Sight has delivered me from, and that relates to your Sex, Madam, and that is the tyrannick Power of Beauty of the Body ,• all whofe bewitching J- Charms i 188 i Charms are of no Effcft to a blind Man ,• the ifineft Eyes in the World are not capable of cor- tupting my Virtue, or betraying my Under- ftanding to doat on a Fool : It robs indeed the Fair of their fureft Means of Conqiiefl, that is, their beautiful Appearance, by which fo many of the Sons of Adam have, like him, been undone; there may perhaps have been fome Men who could not be (o deeply wounded by the Beauty of a Woman, but that her Folly was able to cure them. I have heard a Story of Sir John Suckling much to this purpofe : He made a Vifit to Counfellor Gibbs, whofe Place oblig'd him to live in the To-iUe)- : The Counfellor happcn'd not to be at home, and his Lady thinking very much to oblige him, and to free herfelf of the Trouble, told him, that there was below the moft beautiful young Lady that ever llie faw, who being a Client to her Husband, waited for his Return all alone. The Knight, fond of the Opportunity, runs immediately down to her, but in lefs than a quarter of an Hour came fwearing up Stairs as if he had been diftradted. Coming into the Jloom to the Counfellor's La- dy, Well, Sir John, fays fhe, What ! fo foon weary of a pretty Woman ? Damn her, faid he^ (he has talk'd me out of her Face-: I faid all the fine Things I could think of, but I could get nothing from her, but how many Eggs they fold ♦-penny at Ne-vccafile. In fhcrr, her Folly was fo great, that it foon extinguifli'd the Flames her Charms had kindled. One Advantage I have from this Misfortune relates to your felf. The firlt Lnpreffions of things are generally the moH deep and laft- ihg ; and we more eafily retain the Memory of what [z89] ^hat pleas'd us in our younger DaJ^s, than of thofe things we fee and take Notice of in out maturer Years ; whether it be that as we grow in Yearsi Objefts multiply fo much, that the Number makes us cake the lefs Notice of Particu- lars; or that the Mind indeed is more capable of deep Impreflions in our Youth, than ever after: Thus it is in relation to yourfelf. I have already almoft forgot the feveral Melancholy Changes that Time and an ill Husband have made in your Face ,- and now you appear to md the fame fine Mrs. Cornelia I thought you when I firft faw you. Oh, that Bloom of Youth, and thofe inchanting Beauties that ufe to charm and conquer every Beholder 1 the Malice of five and twenty YeafS has loft all its Force, and you now feem as tranfporting as ever; but this you'll fay is a Benefit of Blindnefs, which af- fords me but very little Advantage ; fince, tho' 1 cannot fee the £fiefts of your Decay, yet thofe of mine are too vifible to your Eyes ; you fee me gtown old, (ick, lame and blind, and cannot therefore perfuade yourfelf to dream of my Youth and Vigour, as I do bf yours. But I muft tell ydu, that I am not fo much difkp- pointed in that, as you may imagine ; for 1 feek hbt to ptcfei" myfelf to ycu as a Lover, but arfi fatisfy'd that my Memory offers me rather a |)lea(ing than a difagreeabl-e Objed : I have feen enough not to be uncafy that I can fee no more ; the Eye prefents uS with the fame thinj^S over and over again ; and if there be any Va- riety in them^ it is generally but to add to otir Pain and Difquiet, and diftrad us with troDble- fome Thoughts and Defires ; whereas now I carl couef^ ttiy Thoughts, and givemyfdf up to the V Con- [ 190 ]i Contemplations of Reafoning without Inter- ruption. This is the VV^ay that I take to make my Life as eafy as I can, and comfort myfelf with this Thought, that I can yet converfe with my Friends of both Sexes, in which Number 1 lliaU always place you, whilft I am Your fait^fu^./jufnifle Servoiffy ■ .\ •, - On the Vulgar. \^'^' , A PaViadox.--^ -"^^ Odi .p,ofanin7i 'vu[gus\ & arced. Be gone Profane , I -hate you ally; j,.,^ ' Both thz Great ^algar, ^and the Small. To Anthony Vainman E% to be left at Button'i- Coffee-houfe^ Coven t-Garden. Deau Tony. H'^^jc:!- YO U fend me Word, that you have had ,a Play lately acted, which has taken wonderh^iiy with the Town ; tiiat- it- was re- ceived -Witli rtiighty-Aj^f^laufe, iiot ohly by the Vulgar, but by tliC-'Mcn of Wit, Persons of the M Qiiality of both Sexes ; -and iliat it is -fl'>3 V 2;rown §rown a Crime, and Mark, of Aftcdation, not to go along with the Vogue in its Praife j at t)ie fame time you tell me, that it has no man- ner of Plot, butflibfifls by the Force of its ex- traordinary Wit, and Brisknefs of Dialogue. This makes me think, my Friend Anthony, that you are in Danger as well as your great Per- sons, and your Wits, to fall into the Number of the Vulgar j for of that Rank are all fuch, who fquander their Applaufe on artlefs Trifles, and fuch Things as do not merit it in the Judg- ment of Men gflinowlcdge. But you fay, this is a Play of Merit, full of Wit from one End ito t'other ; but I muft fay with a great Judge ,in his Elfay on Poetry, That rather than allWity let there be none at all. Therefore if you would have it pafs tor a good Play with me, you faould tell me of its Humour, Nature, and its juft Defign, which, if it want, 'tis at bed: but :a CoUedion of witty Dialogues. Sir George Etherege, as great as his Reputation was, could not efcape the. Reproach of the Men of Judg- ment of his -Time ,-, one of whom f;\ys, That he ivrit three talking Plays withotu one jplct ; and yet thofe three Plays are not altogether without Plot and Humour. Bjt I fiiall i.ot pretend to dccidt the Merits of this Play, till I have read it ; and what I have faid, has been the Efted of your falfe Praife of iZj not the Author's De- merits. To praife a Man in a v/rong Place, is often to. do him an Injury ; andfo'is fome'tiincs taken by Authors of Knowledge and Art, Thus Luaan writ his Zeuxis againft a Pcrfon who had mightily cry'd up his t)iBion, with- out taking any Notice of his Art and Jiidg- jjientin forming the Defign, and tj.^ Qi:doivince ,; ' ■■ V 2 '"• ^-^ »- -of [ ipl ] of its Parts. This fort of Panegyriils are gc-r ;ierally Men that have only a fmattering iti Learning and Wit, and in their Ccnfures blind- ly follow the Diftates of their own Fancy, un- dire<5ted by Art and Judgment. And this is the inoft troublefome Part of the Vulgar, as the moft capable of doing an Author Mifchief, by that Reputation they have of being Men of Wit and Spirit. But that we may not wander in the Dark, and be amus'd with empty Words, I fliall en- deavour to fhew you what it is I mean by the Vulgar. Coivk}y in his paraphraftick Tranflation of Horfice, has very juftly divided them into the great Vulgar and the fmall. There is no Difficulty in our dilHnguilhing the fmall Vulgar, it takes in all the Rabble of Mankind, Things of hu- mane Shape, tho' Ignorance has levell'd thenj vvith the Brutes i thefe are the Mechanicks, and the reft of the People of mean and low Station ; And yet this part of the Vulgar, following the Dictates of mere Nature, often judge right, a$ Horace long ago obferv'd, JEfi uhi YeEie judicat popujus, eft uhi peccat. . But thofe whom I call the great Vulgar, ha- ving ftifled their Senfe ojf the Dictates of pure Nature, by a Conceit of themfelves, the Power of CuHom, and their falfe Opinion of Excel- lence, feldom or never judge rightly of the Per- formances of Art ; this leads me to explain what I m.ean by the great Vulgar. J mean, therefore, all fuch who are ignorant in the fine Arts, and have no true Tafle of them, let their For" [^93] fortune, their Birth, and their Quality be what it win. I confefs this brings in much the greater Part of thofe who decide the Fate of Authors j this takes in, Vm afraid to fpeak aloud, I only whifper it to you, almoft the whole Body of Womankind, at leaft, in our Nation, where the Ladies have more engaging Enjoyments to pafs their Time in, than in informing their Underftan- dings : There was a Time, indeed, a great while ago, and a great way otf, in a Town call'd Atbensy and another calid RomCy when and where the fair Sex thought the Ornaments of the Body, and their perfonal Charms, infuffi- cient, without adding the Beauties of the Mind, put here the Women think it enough, that their Adorers tell 'em they have Wit and Beauty; and that they are fitly qualified for Judges of the greatefl Performances. But let them grow as proud as they pleafe with the vain Flatte- ries of their fenfelefs Adorers ; they are , in fliort, but Part of the Vulgar, unlefs they ex- alt themfelve^, by improving their Minds with Knowledge and Art. Alas ! my Friend Anthony , there are a great many Men who pafs with the Ignorant for Wits of the firfl Rate, who are, indeed, but part of the Vulgar, tho' they have run thro* all the Authors of Antiquity, and have Virgil and }{orace at their Finger's Ends. You fhall know them by this, whenever they talk of thofe great Poets of Antiquity, whenever they praife them, it is for fome fingle Exprcflion, fome particular Verfe i or at mofl, for a fine Defcription j but never fay any thing of the Defign of Virgil, or Homer y or Sophocles, or Euripides ,• that is' what they have no Tafte of i nor, indeed, any No- tion, [ i94 ] tlon, tho* 't is in thofe that thefe great Poets cxcell all Mankind ; and by thofe only have obtain'd the immortal Name of Poets. An- other Part of this gre. t Vulgar contains mofl; of your nierry Wits, whofe Talent is to lull the Severity of Reafon alleep, a^d amufe the Fancy cnly with fome Burlcfque, fome Ridicule, or the like : Thefe Men never think juftly nor .finely, >nd yet they have, of late Days, had it in their Power to ruin the Reputation of Men of Merit, and fet up their own Creatures as the Wonders pf the Age. This is a modern Humour, which has, indeed, as Sir Wdl.a.n Temple has obfcrv'd, deftroy'd all folid Learning, all juft Notions, and rpread a falfe Tafte of Arts and Sciences ithro' their numerous Readers. Thefe are the top Part of the great Vulgar, the Demogogues that lead 'em whereever they pleafe ; tho' in my Opinion they are themfelves the mofl infa- mous of their Party. To thefe I muft add the Pedants, that with a noify Shew of Latin and Greek p^rfuade tneir ignorant Hearers that they are Men of prodigious Par. r, c^nd Learning; a good Mempry is generally; their chief Talent, and that Affurance which th?y ufually learn at their Alma ivLusrs. I am ah'aid to meddle with the Clergy, left they ftiould Iligmati^e me with |he Naine pf Athcii}, or, at leafl, of Deift, cife, perhaps, 1 might fays tf^at there are too many of them come within the Number of the great Vulgar. I fhall only add, that I advife thee, dear Tokv, fcverely to examine ihyfelr, iind try how far dift^ntyou are yourfelf from this Number ; admire no more tUe Veriifiers of the Times, who are more defpicable Fellows than the very Ballad-makers of the Age. ■Py_e-CQrner and Lri'dou' [ 195 ] London-hiidge have more Poetry, than fome cele- brated Shops I could name >' for the Ball ds ge-* nerally go upon fome Story,, fome Flirt, fome Defign j the Verfifiers upon none. Study Art, and by that learn to think juflly. I hope there- is nothing I have faid in this Letter fo -fevere as to make you call in queflion the Sincerity, with whii;h I. prpfefs^miyfeii|' Tour faitjd^l Friendy William Brichtma Ni F 1 ^'S. BOOKS lately publijh'dy and fold by J, Pcriib'eftori. 1 /^Rigirial Poems and Tranflations. By the V-^ moft eminent Hands, vtz,. the late Earl Godolphin, Sir Samuet Garth, N. Rbiice Efq; late Poet Laureat, M. Prior Efqi A. Matrwaring Efqj Mr. Popey Mr. Hughes, &c. To which is added, ^fculapius, or the Hofpital of" Fools. A Dialogue, after the Manner of X»(;/V7k. Dulcet ante 07nnia Mufx. Virg> By the late milmm lVal(h, Efq; The Second Editibn. Price 4/. II. The Hiflory of the moft Noble Order of the Garter, and the feveral Orders of Knight- hood extant in Europe. Containing, I. The An- tiquity of the Town, Caftle^ Chappel, and College oiWindfoY -, with their feveral OiHcers : The Foundation of the Order by K. Edward III. The Statutes and Annals at large, as they have been altered and amended. II, The Habits, Enfigns, and Officers of the Order : The Cere- monies of Eledion, Inveftiture, and Inftallment of Knights i the Manner of their Feafts ; and the Duties and Fees payable upon thofe Occa- fions. Some Account of the Founders. Witii an exad Lift of all that have been inflallM fince the Inftitution ; and their feveral Coat? of Arms emblazoned. Written at the Command of King Charles II, by Eltas AJhmole Efq; fVwdfor'Hcr^ld. Now compar'd with the Author's Correftions, in his Library at Oxford, faithfully digeilcdi and continued down to the prefent Time. The whole illuftrated with proper Sculptures. Smdtl Paper js. 6 d. Large 1 2 j. U)K ia-iu-