which is commonly known by the Name of a Punn. The only Objection he makes to it is, that I fhall raise up Enemies to my self if I act with so regal an Air; and that my Detractors, inftead of giving me the ufual Title of SPECTATOR, will be apt to call me the King of Clubs.

BUT to proceed on my intended Project: It is very well known that I at firft fet forth in this Work with the Character of a filent Man; and I think I have fo well preferved my Taciturnity, that I do not remember to have violated it with three Sentences in the space of almoft two Years. As a Monofyllable is my Delight, I have made very few Excurfions, in the Converfations which I have related, beyond a Yes or a No. By this means my Readers have loft many good things which I have had in my Heart, though I did not care for uttering them.

NOW in order to diverfify my Character, and to fhew the World how well I can talk if I have a mind, I have Thoughts of being very loquacious in the Club which I have now under Confideration. But that I may proceed the more regularly in this Affair, I defign,

upon

upon the first Meeting of the faid Club, to have my Mouth opened in form; intending to regulate my self in this Particular by a certain Ritual which I have by me, that contains all the Ceremonies which are practifed at the opening the Mouth of a Cardinal. I have likewife examined the Forms which were ufed of old by Pythagoras, when any of his Scholars, after an Apprenticeship of Silence, was made free of his Speech, In the mean time, as I have of late found my Name in foreign Gazettes upon lefs occafions, I queftion not but in their next Articles from Great Britain, they will inform the World that the SPECTATOR's Mouth is to be opened on the twenty-fifth of March next. I may perhaps publifh a very ufeful Paper at that time of the Proceedings in that Solemnity, and of the Perfons who fhall affift at it. But of this more hereafter.

W

HEN Men of worthy and excelling Genius's have o

bliged the World with beautiful and inftructive Writings, it is in the nature of Gratitude that Praise fhould be returned them, as one proper confequent Reward of their Performances. Nor has Mankind ever been fo degenerately funk, but they have made this Return, and even when they have not been wrought up by the generous Endeavour fo as to receive the Advantages defigned by it. This Praife, which arises first in the Mouth of particular Perfons, spreads and lafts according to the Merit of Authors; and when it thus meets with a full Success, changes its Denomination, and is called Fame. They who have

happily

happily arrived at this, are, even while they live, enflamed by the Acknowledgments of others, and fpurred on to new Undertakings for the Benefit of Mankind, notwithstanding the Detraction which fome abject Tempers would caft upon them: But when they deceafe, their Characters being freed from the Shadow which Envy laid them under, begin to fhine out with greater Splendor; their Spirits furvive in their Works; they are admitted into the highest Companies, and they continue pleafing and inftructing Pofterity from Age to Age. Some of the beft gain a Character, by being able to fhew that they are no Strangers to them; and others obtain a new Warmth to labour for the Happinefs and Eafe of Mankind, from a Reflection upon those Honours which are paid to their Memories.

THE Thought of this took me up as I turned over thofe Epigrams which are the Remains of feveral of the Wits of Greece, and perceived many dedica-: ted to the Fame of thofe who had excelled in beautiful poetick Performances. Wherefore, in pursuance to my Thought, I concluded to do fomething along with them to bring their Praifes into a new Light

A f

Light and Language, for the Encou ragement of those whofe modest Tempers may be deterr'd by the Fear of Envy or Detraction from fair Attempts, to which their Parts might render them equal. You will perceive them as they follow to be conceived in the form of Epitaphs, a fort of Writing which is wholly fet apart for a fhort-pointed Method of Praife.

On Orpheus, written by Antipater.

No longer, Orpheus, fall thy facred Strains
Lead Stones, and Trees, and Beafts along the
Plains;

No longer footh the boiftrous Wind to fleep,
Or ftill the Billows of the raging Deep:
For thou art gone, the Muses mourn'd thy Fall
In folemn Strains, thy Mother most of all.
Te Mortals, idly for your Sons ye moan,
If thus a Goddess cou'd not fave her own.

OBSERVE here, that if we take the Fable for granted, as it was believ ed to be in that Age when the Epigram was written, the Turn appears to have Piety to the Gods, and a refigning Spirit in the Application. But if we confider the Point with refpect to our pre

fent