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• I shall present her to your consideration and favour, • I am, Gentlemen,
• Your most obliged
• The Spectator.
• P.S. I desire to know whether you admit people of • quality.'
• Mr. Spe&tator,
April 17. • TO fhew you there are among us of the vain weak • sex, fome that have honesty and fortitude enough to • dare to be ugly, and willing to be thought so, I apply • myself to you, to beg your interest and recommenda• tion to the Ugly. Club. If my own word will not be • taken, though in this case a woman's may, I can bring • credible witness of my qualifications for their company, 6 whether they insist upon hair, forehead, eyes, cheeks,
or chin; to which I must add, that I find it easier to • lean to my left side than my right. I hope I am in « all respects agreeable; and for humour and mirth, I'll • keep up to the president himself. All the favour I'll p
pre• tend to is, that as I am the first woman that has appeared • desirous of good company and agreeable conversation, ( I may take and keep the upper end of the table; and • indeed I think they want a carver, which I can be after
as ugly a manner as they can wish. I desire your " thoughts of my claim as soon as you can. • features the length of my face, which is full half-yard ; • though I never knew the reason of it till you gave one • for the shortness of yours. If I knew a naine ugly
enough to belong to the above-described face, I would ( feign one; but, to my unspeakable misfortune, my
name is the only disagreeable prettiness about me; to pr’ythee make one for me that signifies all the de forinity in the world. You understand Latin; but be
Add to my
• sure bring it in with my being, in the fincerity of my
• and servant,
I Read your discourse upon affectation, and from the remarks made in it examined my own heart fo • ftritly, that I thought I had found out its most fecret
avenues, with a resolution to be aware of you for the ' future. But alas ! to my sorrow, I now understand " that I have several follies which I do not know the
root of. I am an old fellow, and extremely troubled
with the gout: but having always a strong vanity to' wards being pleasing in the eyes of women, I never ' have a moment's eale, but I am mounted in high-heel'd • shoes with a glazed wax-leather instep. Two days 6 after a severe fit I was invited to a friend's house in the
city, where I believed I should see ladies; and with
my usual complaisance crippled myself to wait upon o them. A very fumptuous table, agreeable company, ' and kind reception, were but so many importunate ad'ditions to the torment I was in. A gentleman of the • family observed my condition; and, foon after the • queen's health, he, in the presence of the whole com
pany, with his own hands, degraded me into an old • pair of his own shoes. This operation, before fine • ladies, to me, who am by nature a coxcomb, was ' suffered with the same reluctance as they admit the • help of men in their greatest extremity. The return • of ease made me forgive the rough obligation laid
upon me, which at that time relieved my body from a distemper, and will my mind for ever from a folly. For the charity received, I return my thanks
6 this way.
• Your most humble servant.'
Epping, April 18. 'WE have your papers here the morning they come
out, and we have been very well entertained with your • last, upon the false ornaments of persons who represent • heroes in a tragedy. What made your speculation
come very seasonably among us is, that we have now
at this place a company of strollers, who are very far • from offending in the impertinent fplendour of the ' drama. They are so far from falling into thefe false
gallantries, that the itage is here in its original fitua« tion of a cart. Alexander the Great was acted by a • fellow in a paper cravat. The next day, the Earl of • Eflex seemed to have no distress but his poverty; and
my Lord Foppington the same morning wanted any
better means to ihew himself a fop than by wearing • stockings of different colours. In a word, though • they have had a full barn for many days together,
our itinerants are still so wretchedly poor, that, without you can prevail to send us the furniture you forbid at the play-house, the heroes appear only like sturdy beggars, and the heroines gipfies. We have had but
one part which was performed and dressed with pro• priety, and that was Justice Clodpate. This was so • well done, that it offended Mr. Justice Overdo, who, • in the midst of our whole audience, was, like Quixote • in the puppet-show, so highly provoked, that he told • them, if they would move compassion, it should be in • their own persons, and not in the characters of di• stressed princes and potentates; he toid thein, if they
were so good at finding the way to people's hearts, • they should do it at the end of bridges or church• porches, in their proper vocation of beggars. This, • the Justice says, they must expect, since they could not « be contented to act heathen warriors, and such fellows
as Alexander, but must presume to make a mockery of one of the Quorum.
R. "Your Servant.'
No. XLIX. THURSDAY, APRIL 26.
Horninen pagina noftra fapit.
IT is very natural for a man who is not turned for
mirthful meetings of men, or assemblies of the fair sex, to delight in that sort of conversation which we find in coffee-houtes. Here a man of my temper is in his element; for if he cannot talk he can still be more agree. able to his company, as well as pleased in himself, in being only a hearer. It is a secret known but to few, yet of no small use in the conduce of life, that when you fall into a man's conversation, the first thing you should consider is, whether he has a greater inclination to hear you, or that you should hear him. The latter is the more general defire, and I know very able flatterers that never speak a word in praise of the persons from whom they obtain daily favours, but still practise a skilful attention to whatever is uttered by those with whom they converse. We are very curious to observe the behaviour of great men and their clients; but the same paffions and interests move men in lower spheres; and 1, that have nothing else to do but to make observations, see in every parith, ítreet, lane, and alley, of this populous city, a little potentate that has his court and his flatterers, who lay snares for his affection and favour by the same arts that are practised upon men in higher ftations.
In the place I most usually frequent, men differ rather in the time of day in which they make a figure, than in any real greatness above one another. I, who am at the coffee-house at fix in the morning, know that my friend Beaver the haberdasher, has a levee of more undissembled friends and adınirers than most of the couriiers or generals of Great Britain. Every man about him has, perhaps, a newspaper in his hand; but none can pretend to guess what step will be taken in any one
court of Europe till Mr. Beaver has thrown down his pipe, and declares what measures the allies must enter into upon this new posture of affairs. Our coffee-house is near one of the inns of court, and Beaver has the audience and admiration of his neighbours from fix till within a quarter of eight, at which time he is interrupted by the students of the house; some of whom are ready-dress’d for Westminster at eight in the morning, with faces as busy as if they were retained in every cause there; and others come in their night-gowns to saunter away their time, as if they never designed to go thither. I do not know that I meet, in any of my walks, objects which move both my spleen and laughter fo effeétually as those young fellows at the Grecian, Squire’s, Seari's, and all other coffee houses adjacent to the law, who rise early for no other purpose but to publish their laziness. One would think these young virtuosos take a gay cap and slippers, with a scarf and party-coloured gown, to be ensigns of dignity; for the vain things approach each other with an air, which thews they regard one another for their vestments. I have observed that the superiority ainong these proceeds from an opinion of gallantry and fashion: the gentleman in the strawberry sath, who prefides so much over the rest, has, it seems, subscribed to every opera this last winter, and is supposed to receive favours from one of the actresses.
When the day grows too busy for these gentlemen to enjoy any longer the pleasures of their dishabillé with any manner of confidence, they give place to men who have business or good sense in their faces, and come to the coffee-house either to tranfact affairs or enjoy converfation. The persons to whose behaviour and discourse I have most regard are such as are between thele two forts of men; such as have not fpirits too active to be happy and well pleased in a private condition, nor complexions too warm to make them neglect the duties and relations of life. Of this sort of men consist the worthier part of mankind; of there are all good fathers, generous brothers, sincere friends, and faithful subjects. Their entertainments are derived rather from reason than imagin