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" MR. SPECTATOR,

The most taking tragedies anong the ancients “We are several of us, gentlemen and ladies, were built on this last sort of implex fahlı, particil. who board in the same house, and after dinner one larly the tragedy of Edipus, which proceeds upon a of our company (an agreeable man enough other story, if we may believe Aristotle, the most proper wise) stands up and reads your paper to us all. for Tragedy that could be invented by the wit of

e are the civilest people in the world to one an-man. I have taken some pains in a former paper other, and therefore I am forced to this way of de to show, that this kind of implex fable, wherein the siring our reader when he is doing this office, not evert is unhappy, is more apt to affect an audience to stand afore tue fire. This will be a general good than that of the first kind; notwithstanding many to our family this cold weather. He will, I know, excellent pieces among the ancients, as well as most take it to be our common request when he comes to of those which have been written of late years in these words, . Pray, Sir, sit down ;' which I desire our own country, are raised upon contrary plans. you to insert, and you will particularly oblige I must however own, that I think this kind of fable, “ Your daily Reader,

which is the most perfect in tragedy, is not so pro“ CHARITY Frost." per for an heroic poem.

Milton seems to have been sensible of this imper“ I ar am a great lover of dancing, but cannot per- to cure it by several expedients; particularly by

fection in his fable, and has therefore endeavoured form so well as some others; however, by my out the mortification which the great adversary of manof-the-way capers, and some original grimaces, 1.do kind meets with upon his return to the assembly of not fail to divert the company, particularly the infernal spirits, as it is described in a beautiful pasladies, who laugh immoderately all the time. Some, who pretend to be my friends, tell me they do it in sage of the third book; and likewise by the vision derision, and would advise me to leave it off, withal wherein Adam, at the close of the poem, sees his that I make myself ridiculous. I do not know offspring triumphing over his great enemy, and him. what to do in this affair, but I am resolved not to self restored to a happier paradise than that from

which he fell. give over upon any account, until I have the opi. nion of the Spectator.

There is another objection against Milton's fable, “ Your humble Servant,

which is indeed almost the same with the former, John Trott."

thongh placed in a different light, namely—That

the hero in the Paradise Lost is unsuccessful, and “ If Mr. Trott is not awkward out of time, he has by no means a match for his enemies. This gives a right to dance let who will laugh; but if he has occasion for Mr. Dryden's reflection, that the devil no ear he will interrupt others; and I am of opinion was in reality Milton's hero. I think I have obvi. he should sit still. Given under my hand this fifth ated this objection in my first paper. The Paraof February, 1711-12.

dise Lost is an epic, or a narrative poem, and he T.

“ The SPECTATOR." that looks for a hero in it, searches for that which

Milton never intended; but if he will indeed tix No. 297.) SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 1711-12.

the name of a hero upon any person in it, it is cer. tainly the Messiah who is the hero, both in the

principal action and in the chief episodes. PaganEgregio inspersos reprendas corpore nævos.

ism could not furnish out a real action for a fable

greater than that of the Iliad or Æncid, and thereAs perfect beauties somewhere have a mole.-CREECE.

fore a heathen could not form a higher notion of a After what I have said in my last Saturday's poem than one if that kind which they call an hepaper, I shall enter on the subject of this without roic. Whether Milton's is not of a sublimer nature further preface, and remark the several defects I will not presume to determine; it is sufficient which appear in the fable, the characters, the sen- that I show there is in the Paradise Lost all the timents, and the language of Milton's Paradise greatness of plan, regularity of design, and masterly Lost; not doubting but the reader will pardon me, beauties which we discover in Homer and Virgil. if I allege at the same time whatever may be said I must in the next place observe, that Milton has for the extenuation of such defects. The first im- interwoven in the texture of this fable some partiperfection which I shall observe in the fable is, that culars which do not seem to bave probability enough the event of it is unbappy.

for an epic poem, particularly in the actions which The fable of every poem is, according to Ari- he ascribes to Sin and Death, and the picture which stotle's division, either simple or implex. It is called he draws of the “ Limbo of Vanity,” with other simple when there is no change of fortune in it: passages in the second book. Such allegories raimplex, when the fortune of the chief actor changes ther savour of the spirit of Spenser and Ariosto, from bad to good, or from good to bad. The implex than of Homer and Virgil. fable is thought the most perfect: I suppose, be- In the structure of his poem he has likewise adcause it is more proper to stir up the passions of mitted too many digressions. It is finely observed the reader, and to surprise him with a great variety by Aristotle, that the author of an heroic poem of accidents.

should seldom speak himself, but throw as much of The implex fable is therefore of two kinds : in his work as he can into the mouths of those who are the first, the chief actor makes his way through a his principal actors. Aristotle has given no reason long series of dangers and difficulties, until he ar- for this precept: but I presume it is because the rives at honour and prosperity, as we see in the mind of the reader is more awed, and elevated, stories of Ulysses and Æneas; in the second, the when he hears Æneas or Achilles speak, than when chief actor in the poem falls from some eminent Virgil or Homer talk in their own persons. Be. pitch of honour and prosperity, into misery and dis- sides that, assuming the character of an eminent grace. Thus we see Adam and Eve siuking from man is apt to fire the imagination, and raise the 2 state of innocence and happiness, into the most ideas of the author. Tully tells us, mentioning his abject condition of sin and sorrow.

i dialogue of old age, in which Cato is the chief

Z

velut si

HOR. 1 Sat. vi. 66.

speaker, that upon a review of it he was agreeably them as fabulous, as he does in some places, but imposed upou, and fancied that it was Cato, and where he mentions them as truths and matters of not he himself, who uttered his thoughts on that fact. The limits of my paper will not give me subject

leave to be particular in instances of this kind; the If the reader would be at the pains to see how reader will easily remark them in his perusal of he story of the Iliad and the Æneid is delivered the poem. by those persons who act in it, he will be surprised A third fault in his sentiments is an uneasy osto find how little either of these poems proceeds tentation of learning, which likewise occurs very from the authors. Milton has, in the general dis- frequently. It is certain that both Homer and Vira position of his fable, very finely observed this great gil were masters of all the learning of their times, rule; insomuch that there is scarce a tenth part but it shows itself in their works after an indirect of it wbich comes from the poet; the rest is spoken and concealed manner. Milton seems ambitious of either by Adam or Eve, or by some good or evil letting us know, by his excursions on free will and spirit who is engaged, either in their destruction, predestination, and his many glances upon history, or defence.

astronomy, geography, and the like, as well as by From what has been here observed, it appears, the terms and phrases he sometimes makes use of, that digressions are by no means to be allowed of in that he was acquainted with the whole circle of an epic poem. If the poet, even in the ordinary arts and sciences. course of his narration, should speak as little as If in the last place we consider the language of possible, he should certainly never let his narration this great poet, we must allow what I have hinted sleep for the sake of any reflections of his own. I in a former paper, that it is often too much laboured, have often observed with a secret admiration, that and sometimes obscured by old words, trausposithe longest reflection in the Æneid is in that pas. tions, and foreign idioms. Seneca's objection to sage of the tenth book, where Turnus is represented the style of a great author, “ Riget ejus oratio, nihil as dressing himself in the spoils of Pallas, whom he in placidum, nihil lene,” is what many critics bad slain. Virgil here lets his fable stand still, for make to Milton. As I cannot wholly refute it, so I the sake of the following remark. " How is the have already apologised for it in another paper : mind of man ignorant of futurity, and unable to to which I may further add, that Milton's sentibear prosperous fortune with moderation! The time ments and ideas were so wonderfully sublime, that will come when Turnus shall wish that he had left it would have been impossible for him to have rethe body of Pallas untouched, and curse the day on presented them in their full strength and beauty, which he dressed himself in these spoils.” As the without having recourse to these foreign assistances. great event of the Æneid, and the death of Turnus, Our language sunk under him, and was unequal to whom Æneas slew because he saw him adorned that greatness of soul which furnished him with with the spoils of Pallas, turns upon this incident, such glorious conceptions. Virgil went out of his way to make this reflection A second fault in his language is, that he often upon it, without which so small a circumstance affects a kind of jingle in his words, as in the folmight possibly have slipt out of his reader's memory lowing passages and many others: Lucan, who was an injudicious poet, lets drop bis

And brought into the world a world of woe story very frequently for the sake of his unneces

Begirt th' Almighty throne sary digressions, or his diverticula, as Scaliger calls Beseeching or besiegingthem. If he gives us an account of the prodigies

This tempted our attempt which preceded the civil war, he declaims upon the

At one slight bound high over leapt all bound occasion, and shows how much happier it would be I know there are figures for this kind of speech; for man, if he did not feel his evil fortune before it that some of the greatest aucients have been guilty comes to pass : and suffer not only by its real of it, and that Aristotle himself has giv

it a place weight, but by the apprehension of it. Milton's in his rhetoric among the beauties of that art. But complaint for his blindness, his panegyric on mar- as it is in itself poor and trifling, it is, I think, at riage, his reflections on Adam and Eve's going present universally exploded by all the masters of naked, of the angels' eating, and several other pas- polite writing. sages in his poem, are liable to the same exception, The last fault which I shall take notice of in Milthough I must confess there is so great a beauty in ton's style, is the frequent use of what the learned these very digressions, that I would not wish them call technical words, or terms of art. It is one of out of his poem.

the greatest beauties of poetry, to make hard things I have in a former paper spoken of the charac- intelligible, and to deliver what is abstruse of itself ters of Milton's Paradise Lost, and declared my in such easy language as may be understood by opinion as to the allegorical persons who are intro ordinary readers ; besides that the knowledge of a duced in it.

poet should rather seem born with him, or inspired, If we look into the sentiments, I think they are than drawn with books and systems. I have often sometimes defective under the following heads; wondered how Mr. Dryden could translate a pasfirst, as there are several of them too much pointed, sage out of Virgil after the following manner: and some that degenerate even into puns. Of this

Tack to the larboard and stand off to tea, last kind I am afraid is that in the first book, where, speaking of the pigmies, he calls them

Milton makes use of larboard in the same manner. The small infantry

When he is upon building, he mentions doric pilWarr'd on by cranes

lars, pilasters, cornice, frieze, architrave. When Another blemish that appears in some of his he talks of heavenly bodies, you meet with ecliptic thoughts, is bis frequent allusion to heathen fables, and eccentric, the trepidation, stars dropping from which are not certainly of a piece with the divine the zenith, rays culininating from the equator : to subject of which he treats. I do not find fault with which might be added many instances of the like these allusions where the poet himself represents kind in several other arts and sciences.

Veer starboard sea and land.

I shall in my next papers give an account of the solved never to be drowsy, unmannerly, or stupid, many particular beauties in Milton, which would for the future, at a friend's house; and on a bunting have been too long to insert under those general morning not to pursue the game either with the heads I have already treated of, and with which I husband abroad or with the wife at home. intend to conclude this piece of criticism.-L. “ The next that came was a tradesman, no less

full of the age than the former; for he had the

gallantry to tell me, that at a late junket which he No. 298.) MONDAY, FEBRUARY, 11, 1711-12. was invited to, the motion being made, and the

question being put, it was, by maid, wife, and Nusquam tuta fides_Viro, Æn. iv. 373. widow, resolved nemine contradicente, that a young Honour is no where safe.

sprightly journeyman is absolutely necessary in

their way of business; to which they had the assent London, Feb. 9, 1711-12. and concurrence of the husbands present. I “ Mr. SPECTATOR,

dropped him a curtsey, and gave bim to understand

that this was his audience of leave. “I am a virgin, and in no case despicable, but “ I am reckoned pretty, and have had very many yet such as I am I must remain, or else become, it advances besides these; but have been very averse is to be feared, less happy; for I find not the least to hear any of them, from my observation on those good effect from the good correction you some time above mentioned, until I hoped some good from the since gave that too free, that looser part of our sex character of my present admirer, a clergyman. But which spoils the men; the same connivance at the I find even among them there are indirect practices vices, the same easy admittance of addresses, the relating to love, and our treaty is at present a little same vitiated relish of the conversation of the in suspense, until some circumstances are cleared. greatest rakes (or, in a more fashionable way of There is a charge against him among the women, expressing one's self, of such as have seen the and the case is this: It is alleged, that a certain enworld most) still abounds, increases, multiplies. dowed female would have appropriated herself to,

“ The humble petition, therefore, of many of the and consolidated herself with, a church which my most strictly virtuous and of myself is, that you will divine now enjoys (or, which is the same thing, did once more exert your authority, and that according prostitute herself to her friend's doing this for her); to your late promise, your full, your impartial au- that my ecclesiastic, to obtain the one, did engage thority, on this sillier branch of our kind; for why himself to take off the other that lay on hand; but should they be the uncontrollable mistresses of our that on his success in the spiritual, he again refate? Why should they with impunity indulge the nounced the carnal. males in licentiousness whilst single, and we have “ I put this closely to him, and taxed him with the dismal hazard and plague of reforming them disingenuity. He to clear himself made the subsewhen married ? Strike home, Sir, then, and spare quent defence, and that in the most solemn manner not, or all our maiden hopes, our gilded hopes of possible :--that he was applied to, and instigated to nuptial felicity are frustrated, are vanished, and accept of a benefice :--that a conditional offer thereyou yourself as well as Mr. Courtly, will, by of was indeed made him at first, but with disdain smoothing, over immodest practices with the gloss by him rejected :—that when nothing. (as they of soft and harmless names, for ever forfeit our es- easily perceived) of this nature could bring him to teem. Nor think that I am herein more severe their purpose, assurance of his being entirely unen. than need be; if I have not reason more than gaged before-hand, and safe from all their afterenough, do you and the world judge from this en- expectations, (the only stratagem left to draw him suing account, which, I think, will prove the evil to in) was given him :-that pursuant to this the dobe universal.

nation itself was without delay, before several re“ You must know, then, that since your repre- putable witnesses, tendered to bim gratis, with the hension of this female degeneracy came out, I have open profession of not the least reserve, or most had a tender of respects from no less than five minute condition; but that yet immediately after persons, of tolerable figure too as times go: but the induction, his insidious introducer (or her crafty misfortune is that four of the five are professed fol. procurer, which you will) industriously spread the lowers of the mode. They would face me down, report which had reached my ears, not only in the that all women of good sense ever were, and ever neighbourhood of that said church, but in London, will be, latitudinarians in wedlock; and always did in the university, in mine and his own country, and and will give and take, what they profanely term wherever else it might probably obviate bis appli. conjugal liberty of conscience.

cation to any other woman, and so confine him to " The two first of them, a captain and a mer- this alone : 'in a word, that as he never did make chant, to strengthen their arguments, pretend to any previous offer of his service, or the least step to repeat after a couple of ladies of quality and wit, her affection; so on his discovery of these designs that Venus was always kind to Mars; and what thus laid to trick him, he could not but afterward, soul that has the least spark of generosity can deny in justice to himself, vindicate both his innocence a man of bravery any thing? And how pitiful a and freedom, by keeping bis proper distance. trader that, whom no woman but his own wife will “ This is his apology, and I think I shall be sahave correspondence and dealings with ? Thus tisfied with it. But I cannot conclude my tedious these; whilst the third, the country squire, con- epistle without recommending to you not only to lessed, that indeed he was surprised into good-breed- resume your former chastisement, but to add to your ing, and entered into the knowledge of the world criminals the simoniacal ladies, who seduce the unawares; that dining the other day at a gentle- 'sacred order into the difficulty of either breaking man's house, the person who entertained was ob- a mercenary troth made to them, whom they ought liged to leave him with his wife and pieces; where not to deceive, or by breaking or keeping it offendthey spoke with so much contempt of an absent ing against Him whom they cannot deceive. Your gentleman for being so slow at bint, that he re- ; assistance and labours this sort would be of great

ጊ Z 2

benefit, and your speedy thoughts on this subject should be entirely in her hands. Her father and would be very seasonable to, Sir,

brothers appeared exceedingly averse to this match, “ Your most humble Servant,

and would not see me for some time: but at present

are so well reconciled, that they dine with me al. “ Chastity LOVEWORTH.”

most every day, and have borrowed considerable

sums of me; which my Lady Mary very often twits No. 299.) TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 1711-12. me with, when she would show me how kind her

relations are to me. She had no portion, as I told Malo Venusinam, quam te, Cornelia, mater

you before; but what she wanted in fortune she Gracchorum, si cum magnis virtutibus affers

makes up in spirit. She at first changed my name Grande supercilium, et numeras in dote triumphor. Tolle tuum precor Annibalem, victumque Syphacem

to Sir John Envil, and at present writes herself In castris; et cum tota Carthagine migra.

Mary Enville. I have had some children by her,

Juv. Sat. vi. 166 whom she has christened with the surnames of her Some country girl, scarce to a curtsey bred,

family, in order, as she tells me, to wear out the Would I much rather than Cornelia wed: If supercilious, haughty, proud, and vain,

honeliness of their parentage by the father's side. She brought her father's triumphs in her train

Our eldest sun is the honourable Oddly Enville, Away with all your Carthaginian state;

Esq., and our eldest daughter Harriet Enville. Let vanquish'd Hannibal without doors wait,

Upon her first coming into my family, she turned Too burly and too big to pass my narrow gate.-DRYDEN

off a parcel of very careful servants who had been It is observed, that a man improves more by long with me, and introduced in their stead a couple reading the story of a person eminent for prudence of black-a-moors, and three or four very genteel and virtue, than by the finest rules and precepts of fellows in laced liveries, besides her French woman, morality. In the same manner a representation of who is perpetually making a noise in the house, in those calamities and misfortunes which a weak man a language which nobody understands, except my suffers from wrong measures, and ill-concerted | Lady Mary. She next set herself to reform every schemes of life, is apt to make a deeper impression room of my house, having glazed all my chimneyupon our minds, than the wisest maxims and instruc- pieces with looking-glasses, and planted every cortions that can be given us, for avoiding the like fol. ner with such heups of china, that I am obliged to lies and indiseretions in our own private conduct. move about my own house with the greatest caution It is for this reason that I lay before my readers the and circumspection, for fear of hurting some of our following letter, and leave it with him to make his brittle furniture. She makes an illumination once own use of it, without adding any reflections of my a week with wax candles in one of our largest own upon the subject matter.

rooms, in order, as she phrases it, to see company; “ MR. SPECTATOR,

at which time she always desires me to be abroad,

or to confine myself to the cock-loft, that I may not “ Having carefully perused a letter sent you by disgrace her among her visitants of quality. Her Josiah Fribble, Esq. with your subsequent discourse footmen, as I told you before, are such beaus, that upon pin-money, I do presume to trouble you with I do not much care for asking them questions ; an aceount of my own case, which I look upon to when I do, they answer with a saucy frown, and be no less deplorable than that of 'Squire Fribble: say that every thing which I find fault with was I am a person of po extraction, having begun the done by my Lady Mary's order. She tells me, world with a small parcel of rusty iron, and was for that she intends they shall wear swords with their some years commonly known by the name of Jack next liveries, having lately observed the footmen Anvil.* I have naturally a very happy genius for of two or three persons of quality hanging behind getting money, insomuch that by the age of five-the coach with swords by their sides. As soon as and-twenty I had scraped together four thousand the first honeymoon was over, I represented 10 hier two hundred pounds five shillings, and a few odd the unreasonableness of those daily innovations pence. I then launched out into considerable busi, which she made in my family; but she told me,,! ness, and became a bold trader both by sea and was no longer to consider myself as Sir John Anvil, land, which in a few years raised me a very great but as her husband; and added with a frown, that fortune. For these my good services I was knighted I did not seem to know who she was. I was surin the thirty-fifth year of my age, and lived with prised to be treated thus, after such familiarities as great dignity arnong my city neighbours by the had passed between us. But she has since given name of Sir John Anvil. Being in my temper very me to know, that whatever freedoms she may someambitious, I was now bent upon making a family, times indulge me in, she expects in general to be and accordingly resolved that my descendants treated with the respect that is due to her birth and should have a dash of good blood in their veins. quality. Our children have been trained up from In order to this, I made love to the Lady Mary their infancy with so many accounts of their moOddly, an indigent young woman of quality. To ther's family, that they know the stories of all the cut short the marriage-treaty, I threw her a carte great men and women it has produced. Their Hanche, as our newspapers call it, desiring her to mother tells them, that such-a.one commanded in write upon it her own terms. She was very con, such a sea-engagement, that their great-grandfather cise in her demands, insisting only that the disposal had a horse shot under him at Edge-bill, tbat their of my fortune, and the regulation of my family, uncle was at the siege of Buda, and that her mother

danced in a ball at court with the Duke of Mon* It has been said by some, that the author of this letter mouth; with abundance of fiddle-faddle of the same alluded here to — Gore, of Tring, and Lady Mary Comp- pature. I was the other day a little out of counteton; but others with more probability have assured the annotator, that the letter referred to Sir Ambrose Crowley and his nance at a question of my little daughter Harriet, lady Seg Tat. ed. 1786, cr. 8vo. vol. v. additional notes, who asked ine, with a great deal of innocence, why p. 163 and 470. N. B. This ironmonger changed his name from I never told her of the generals and admirals that hem » hange of Avvü into Envil, absurdly made by had been in my family? As for my eldest son,

Oddly, he has been so spirited up by his mother,

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that if he does not mend his manners I shall go near moment: and if they loved with that calm and to disinherit him. He drew bis sword upon me, noble valour which dwells in the beart, with a before he was nine years old, and told me that he warmth like that of life-blood, they would not be so expected to be used like a gentleman: upon my impatient of their passions as to fall into observable offering to correct him for his insolence, my Lady fondness. This method, in each case, would save Mary stepped in between us, and told me I ought appearances; but as those who offend on the fond to consider there was some difference between his side are much the fewer, I would have you begin mother and mine. She is perpetually finding out with them, and go on to take notice of a most imthe features of her own relations in every one of pertinent licence married women take, not only to my children, though, by the way, I have a little be very loving to their spouses in public, but also chubfaced boy as like me as he can stare, if I durst make pauseous allusions to private familiarities, say so; but what most anyers me, when she sees me and the like. Lucina is a lady of the greatest displaying with any of them upon my knee, she has cretion, you must know, in the world, and withal begged me more than once to converse with the very much a physician. Upon the strength of these children as little as possible, that they may not two qualities there is nothing she will not speak of learn any of my awkward tricks.

before us virgins; and she every day talks with a “ You must further know, since I am opening my very grave air in such a manner, as is very improheart to you, that she thinks herself my superior in per so much as to be hinted at, but to obviate the sense, as she is in quality, and therefore treats me greatest extremity. Those whom they call good as a plain well-meaning man, who does not know bodies, notable people, hearty neighbours, and the the world. She dictates to me in my own business, purest goodest company in the world, are the great sets me right in points of trade, and if I disagree offenders in this kind.' Here I think I have laid with her about any of my ships at sea, wonders that before you an open field for pleasantry; and hope I will dispute with her, when I know very well that you will show these people that at least they are her great-grandfather was a flag-officer.

not witty : in which you will save from many a To complete my sufferings, she has teased me blush a daily sufferer, who is very much your most for this quarter of a year last past to remove into humble Servant, one of the squares at the other end of the town,

“ Susannah LOVEWORTH." promising, for my encouragement, that I shall have as good a cock-loft as any gentleman in the square;

“ MR. SPECTATOR, to which the Honourable Oddly Enville, Esq. al- “ In yours of Wednesday, the 30th past, you and ways adds, like a jack-a-napes as he is, that he your correspondents are very severe on a sort of hopes it will be as near the court as possible. men, whoin you call male coquets; but without any

“ In short, Mr. Spectator, I am so much out of other reason, in my apprehension, than that of paymy natural element, that to recover my old way of ing a shallow compliment to the fair sex, by accusing life I would be content to begin the world again, some men of imaginary faults, that the women may and be plain Jack Anvil: but, alas ! I am in for not seem to be the more faulty sex; though at the life, and am bound to subscribe myself, with great same time you suppose there are some so weak as sorrow of heart,

to be imposed upon by fine things and false ad“ Your humble Servant, dresses. I cannot persuade myself that your design L. “ John ENVILLE, KNT."

is to debar the sexes the benefit of each other's conversation within the rules of honour; nor will you,

I dare say, recommend to them, or encourage the No. 300.] TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 1711-12. common tea-table talk, much less that of politics and

matters of state, and if these are forbidden subjects -Diversum vitio vitium prope majus.

of discourse, then as long as there are any women Hor. 1 Ep. xviii. 5.

in the world who take a pleasure in hearing themAnother failing of the mind, Greater than this, of quite a different kind.-POOLEY.

selves praised, and can bear the sight of a man pros“ MR. SpectaTOR,

trate at their feet, so long I shall make no wonder

that there are those of the other sex who will pay “When you talk of the subject of love, and the them those impertinent humiliations. We should relations arising from it, methinks you should take have few people such fools as to practise Aattery, if care to leave no fault unobserved which concerns all were so wise as to despise it. I do not deny but the state of marriage. The great vexation that I you would do a meritorious act, if you could prevent have observed in it is, that the wedded couple seem all impositions on the simplicity of young women; to want opportunities of being often enough alone but I'must confess, I do not apprehend you have together, and are forced to quarrel and be fond be- laid the fault on the proper persons; and if I trouble fore company. Mr. Hotspur and his lady, in a you with my thoughts upon it, I promise myself your room full of their friends, are ever saying something pardon. Such of the sex as are raw and innocent, so smart to each other, and that but just within and most exposed to these attacks, have, or their rules, that the whole company stand in the utmost parents are much to blame if they have not, one to anxiety and suspense, for fear of their falling into advise and guard them, and are obliged themselves extremities which they could not be present at. On to take care of them, but if these, who ought to the other side, Tom Faddle and his pretty spouse, hinder men from all opportunities of this sort of conwherever they come are billing and cooing at such versation, instead of that encourage and promote it, a rate, as they think must do our hearts good to be the suspicion is very just that there are soine prihold them. Cannot you possibly propose a mean vate reasons for it; and I will leave it to you to debetween being wasps and doves in public ? I should termine on which side a part is then acted. Some think, if you advised to bate or love sincerely it women there are who are arrived at years of aiscrewould be better; for if they would be so discreet as tion, I mean are got out of the hands of their parents to bate from the very bottoms of their hearts, their and governors, and are set up for themselves, who aversion would be too strong for little gibes every are yet liable to these attempts; but if these ere

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