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pocket (which every one here has a profound respect for) has the assurance to set up for a minuet-dancer. Not only so, but he has brought down upon us the whole body of the Trots, which are very numerous, with their auxiliaries the hobblers and the skippers, by which means the time is so much wasted, that, unless we break all rules of government, it must redound to the utter subversion of the brag-table, the discreet members of which value time, as Fribble's wife does her pin-money. We are pretty well assured that your indulgence to Trot was only in relation to country dances; however, we have deferred issuing an order of council upon the premises, hoping to get you to join with us, that Trot, nor any. of his clan, presume for the future to dance any but country dances, unless a hornpipe upon a festival day. If you will do this, you will oblige a great many ladies, and particularly your most humble Servant,

"York, Feb. 16.

"ELIZ. SWEEPSTAKES.'

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Ye realms. yet unreveal'd to human sight, Ye gods, who rule the regions of the night, Ye gliding ghosts, permit me to relate The mystic wonders of your silent state.-DRYDEN. I HAVE before observed in general, that the sons whom Milton introduces into his poem always discover such sentiments and behaviour as are in a peculiar manner conformable to their respective characters. Every circumstance in their speeches and actions is with great justice and delicacy adapted to the persons who speak and act. As the poet very much excels in this consistency of his characters, I shall beg leave to consider several passages of the second book in this light. That superior greatness and mock-majesty which is ascribed to the prince of the fallen angels, is admirably preserved in the beginning of this book. His opening and closing the debate; his taking on himself that great enter prise, at the thought of which the whole internal assembly trembled; his encountering the hideous phantom who guarded the gates of hell, and appeared to him in all his terrors; are instances of that proud and daring mind which could not brook submission, even to Omnipotence !

Satan was now at hand, and from his seat
The monster, moving onward, came as fast
With horrid strides; hell trembled as he strode.
Th' undaunted fiend what this might be admir`d,
Admir'd, not fear'd-

The same boldness and intrepidity of behaviour discovers itself in the several adventures which he meets with, during his passage through the regions of unformed matter, and particularly in his address to those tremendous powers who are described as presiding over it.

The part of Moloch is likewise, in all its circum. stances, full of that fire and fury which distinguish this spirit from the rest of the fallen angels. He is

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described in the first book as besmeared with the blood of buman sacrifices, and delighted with the tears of parents, and the cries of children. In the second book he is marked out as the fiercest spirit that fought in heaven; and if we consider the figure which he makes in the sixth book, where the battle of the angels is described, we find it every way answerable to the same furious, enraged character: Where the might of Gabriel fought, And with fierce ensigns pierc'd the deep array Of Moloch, furious king, who him defy'd, And at his chariot-wheels to drag him bound Threaten'd, nor from the Holy One of heav'n Refrain'd his tongue blasphemous: but anon, Down cloven to the waist, with shatter'd arms And uncouth pain fled bellowing.

It may be worth while to observe, that Milton has represented this violent impetuous spirit, who is hurried on by such precipitate passions, as the first that rises in the assembly to give his opinion upon their present posture of affairs. Accordingly he declares himself abruptly for war, and appears incensed at his companions for losing so much time as even to deliberate upon it. All his sentiments are rash, audacious and desperate. Such as that of arming themselves with their tortures, and turning their punishments upon him who inflicted them

No, let us rather choose,

Arm'd with hell flames and fury, all at once
O'er heaven's high tow'rs to force resistless way,
Turning our tortures into horrid arms

Against the tort'rer; when to meet the noise

Of his almighty engine he shall hear
Infernal thunder, and for lightning see
Black fire and horror shot with equal rage
Among his angels; and his throne itself
Mix'd with Tartarian sulphur, and strange fire,
His own invented torments.---

His preferring annihilation to shame or misery is also highly suitable to his character; as the comfort he draws from their disturbing the peace of heaven, that if it be not victory it is revenge, is a senti ment truly diabolical, and becoming the bitterness of this implacable spirit.

Belial is described in the first book as the idol of

the lewd and luxurious. He is in the second book, pursuant to that description, characterized as timo rous and slothful; and if we look into the sixth book, we find him celebrated in the battle of angels for nothing but that scoffing speech which he makes to Satan, on their supposed advantage over the enemy. As his appearance is uniform, and of apiece, in these three several views, we find his sentiments in the infernal assembly every way conformable to his character. Such are his apprehensions of a second battle, his horrors of annihilation, his preferring to be miserable, rather than "not to be." I need not observe, that the contrast of thought in this speech, and that which precedes it, gives an agreeable variety to the debate.

Mammon's character is so fully drawn in the first book, that the poet adds nothing to it in the second. We were before told, that he was the first who taught mankind to ransack the earth for gold and silver, and that he was the architect of Pandamo. nium, or the infernal palace, where the evil spirits were to meet in council. His speech in this book is every way suitable to so depraved a character. How proper is that reflection of their being unable to taste the happiness of heaven, were they actually there, in the mouth of one, who, while he was in heaven, is said to have had his mind dazzled with the outward pomps and glories of the place, and to have been more intent on the riches of the pavement

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than on the beatific vision. I shall also leave the reader to judge how agreeable the following sentiments are to the same character:

This deep world

Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst
Thick clouds and dark doth heav'n's all ruling sire
Choose to reside, his glory unobscur`d,

And with the majesty of darkness round

Covers his throne; from whence deep thunders roar, Mustering their rage, and heaven resembles hell! As he our darkness, cannot we his light Imitate when we please? This desert soil Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold; Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raise Magnificence; and what can heav'n shew more? Beelzebub, who is reckoned the second in dignity that fell, and is, in the first book, the second that awakens out of the trance, and confers with Satan upon the situation of their affairs, maintains his rank in the book now before us. There is a wonderful majesty described in his rising up to speak. He acts as a kind of moderator between the two opposite parties, and proposes a third undertaking, which the whole assembly gives into. The motion he makes of detaching one of their body in search of a new world, is grounded upon a project devised by Satan, and cursorily proposed by him in the following lines of the first book:

Space may produce new worlds, whereof so rife
There went a fame in heav'n, that he ere long
Intended to create, and therein plant

A generation, whom his choice regard
Should favour equal to the sons of heav'n;
Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps
Our first eruption, thither or elsewhere:

For this infernal pit shall never hold
Celestial spirits in bondage, nor th' abyss
Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts

Full counsel must mature :

It is on this project that Beelzebub grounds his proposal:

What if we find

Some easier enterprise? There is a place
(If ancient and prophetic fame in heav'n
Err not), another world, the happy seat

Of some new race call'd man, about this time
To be created like to us, though less

In pow'r and excellence, but favour'd more Of him who rules above; so was his will Pronounc'd among the gods, and by an oath, That shook heav'n's whole circumference, confirm'd. The reader may observe how just it was, not to omit in the first book the project upon which the whole poem turns; as also that the prince of the fallen angels was the only proper person to give it birth, and that the next to him in dignity was the fittest to second and support it.

scribed with great pregnancy of thought, and copi. ousness of invention. The diversions are every way suitable to beings who had nothing left them but strength and knowledge misapplied. Such are their contentions at the race, and in feats of arms, with their entertainment in the following lines:

Others with vast Typhæan rage more fell Read up both rocks and hills, and ride the air In whirlwind; bell searce holds the wild uproar Their music is employed in celebrating their own criminal exploits, and their discourse in sounding the unfathomable depths of fate, free-will, and foreknowledge.

The several circumstances in the description of hell are finely imagined; as the four rivers which disgorge themselves into the sea of fire, the ex tremes of cold and heat, and the river of oblivion. The monstrous animals produced in that infernal world are represented by a single line, which gives us a more horrid idea of them, than a much longer description would have done:

Nature breeds,

Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things,
Abominable, inutterable, and worse
Than fables yet have feign'd, or fear conceiv'd,
Gorgons and hydras, and chimeras dire.

This episode of the fallen spirits, and their place of habitation, comes in very happily to unbend the mind of the reader from its attention to the debate. An ordinary poet would indeed have spun out so many circumstances to a great length, and by that means have weakened, instead of illustrated, the principal fable.

The flight of Satan to the gates of hell is finely imagined.

I have already declared my opinion of the allegory concerning sin and death, which is, however, a very finished piece in its kind, when it is not considered as a part of an epic poem. The genealogy of the several persons is contrived with great delicacy. Sin is the daughter of Satan, and Death the offspring of Sin. The incestuous mixture between Sin and Death produces those monsters and hell-hounds which from time to time enter into their mother, and tear the bowels of her who gave them birth.

This last beautiful

These are the terrors of an evil conscience, and the proper fruits of sin, which naturally rise from the apprehensions of death. moral is, I think, clearly intimated in the speech of Sin, where, complaining of this her dreadful issue,

she adds,

Before mine eyes in opposition sits

Grim Death, my son and foe, who sets them cn,
And me his parent would full soon devour
For want of other prey, but that he knows
His end with mine involv'd-

There is besides, I think, something wonderfully beautiful, and very apt to affect the reader's imagination, in this ancient prophecy or report in heaven, concerning the creation of man. Nothing could show more the dignity of the species, than this tradition which ran of them before their exis- circumstance in the last part of this quotation. He I need not mention to the reader the beautiful tence. They are represented to have been the talk will likewise observe how naturally the three perof heaven before they were created. Virgil, in compliment to the Roman commonwealth, makes sons concerned in this allegory are tempted by one the heroes of it appear in their state of pre-exis-ther, and how properly Sin is made the portress of common interest to enter into a confederacy togetence; but Milton does a far greater honour to man

kind in general, as he gives us a glimpse of them even before they are in being.

The rising of this great assembly is described in

a very sublime and poetical manner.

Their rising all at once was as the sound

hell, and the only being that can open the gates to

that world of tortures.

The descriptive part of this allegory is likewise very strong, and full of sublime ideas. The figure of Death, the regal crown upon his head, his menace of Satan, his advancing to the combat, the outery at his birth, are circumstances too noble to be past The diversions of the fallen angels, with the par- over in silence, and extremely suitable to this king iar account of their place of habitation, are de-of terrors. I need not mention the justness of

Of thunder heard remote

THE SPECTATOR.

POSTSCRIPT.

thought which is observed in the generation of these
"Sir, if I marry this lady by the assistance of
several symbolical persons; that Sin was produced
upon the first revolt of Satan, that Death appeared your opinion, you may expect a favour for it."
soon after he was cast into hell, and that the terrors
of conscience were conceived at the gate of this
The description of the gates is
place of torments.
very poetical, as the opening of them is full of Mil-
ton's spirit:

On a sudden open fly

With impetuous recoil and jarring sound
Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate
Harsh thunder, that the lowest bottom shook
Of Erebus. She open'd, but to shut

Excell'd her pow'r; the gates wide open stood,
That with extended wings a banner'd host
Under spread ensigns marching might pass through
With horse and chariots rank'd in loose array;
So wide they stood, and like a furnace mouth
Cast forth redounding smoke and ruddy flame.
In Satan's voyage through the chaos there are
several imaginary persons described, as residing in
that immense waste of matter. This may perhaps
be conformable to the taste of those critics who are
pleased with nothing in a poet which has not life
and manners ascribed to it; but for my own part, I
am pleased most with those passages in this descrip-
tion which carry in them a greater measure of pro-
bability, and are such as might possibly have hap-
pened. Of this kind is his first mounting in the
smoke that rises from the infernal pit, his falling
into a cloud of nitre, and the like combustible ma-
terials, that by their explosion still hurried him
forward in his voyage: his springing upward like
a pyramid of fire, with his laborious passage through
that confusion of elements which the poet calls

The womb of nature, and perhaps her grave.

The glimmering light which shot into the chaos from the utmost verge of the creation, with the distant discovery of the earth that hung close by the moon, are wonderfully beautiful and poetical.-L.

"MR. SPECTATOR,

"I have the misfortune to be one of those unhappy men who are distinguished by the name of discarded lovers; but I am the less mortified at my disgrace, because the young lady is one of those creatures who set up for negligence of men, are forsooth the most rigidly virtuous in the world, and yet their nicety will permit them at the command of parents to go to bed to the most utter stranger As to me myself, I that can be proposed to them. was introduced by the father of my mistress; but find I owe my being at first received to a comparison of my estate with that of a former lover, and that I am now in like manner turned off to give way to a humble servant still richer than I am. What makes this treatment the more extravagant is, that the young lady is in the management of this way of fraud, and obeys her father's orders on these occasions without any manner of reluctance, but does it with the same air that one of your men of the world would signify the necessity of affairs for turning another out of office. When I came home last night, I found this letter from my mistress :

"SIR,

"I hope you will not think it any manner of disrespect to your person or merit, that the intended nuptials between us are interrupted. My father says he has a much better offer for me than you can make, and has ordered me to break off the treaty between us. If it had proceeded, I should have behaved myself with all suitable regard to you, but as it is, I beg we may be strangers for the future. Adieu.

"LYDIA.

"This great indifference on this subject, and the mercenary motives for making alliances, is what I

No. 310.] MONDAY, FEBRUARY 25, 1711-12. think lies naturally before you, and I beg of you to

Connubio jungam stabili

VIRG. Æn. i. 77.

I'll tie the indissoluble marriage-knot.

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"DEAR SPEC.,

What

"BIDDY DOW-BAKE."

Feb. 19, 1712. "I have loved a lady entirely for this year and a half, though for a great part of the time (which has contributed not a little to my pain) I have been debarred the liberty of conversing with her. The ground of our difference was this; that when we had inquired into each other's circumstances, we found that at our first setting out in the world, we should owe five hundred pounds more than her fortune would pay off. My estate is seven hundred pounds a-year, besides the benefit of tin mines. Now, dear Spec., upon this state of the case, and the lady's positive declaration that there is still no other objection, I beg you will not fail to insert this, with your opinion as soon as possible, whether this ought to be esteemed a just cause or impediment why we should not be joined, and you will for ever DICK LOVESICK, oblige yours sincerely,

66

give me your thoughts upon it. My answer to Lydia was as follows, which I hope you will approve: for you are to know the woman's family affect a wonderful ease on these occasions, though they expect it should be painfully received on the man's side:

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"The opera subscription is full."

MEMORANDUM.

"CLITOPHON.

The censor of marriage to consider this letter, and report the common usages on such treaties, with how many pounds or acres are generally esteemed sufficient reason for preferring a new to an old preSee No. 308. tender; with his opinion what is proper to be determined in such cases for the future. let. 1.

"MR. SPECTATOR, "There is an elderly person lately left off busiorder, as he thinks, ness and settled in our town, to retire from the world; but he has brought with him such an inclination for tale-bearing, that he disturbs both himself and all our neighbourhood. Notwithstanding this frailty, the honest gentleman

2A 2

is so happy as to have no enemy: at the same time he has not one friend who will venture to acquaint him with his weakness. It is not to be doubted, but if this failing were set in a proper light, he would quickly perceive the indecency and evil consequences of it. Now, Sir, this being an infirmity which I hope may be corrected, and knowing that he pays much deference to you, I beg that when you are at leisure to give us a speculation on gossiping, you would think of my neighbour. You will hereby oblige several who will be glad to find a reformation in their gray-haired friend: and how becoming will it be for him, instead of pouring forth words at all adventures, to set a watch before the door of his mouth, to refrain his tongue, to check its impetuosity, and guard against the sallies of that little pert, forward, busy person; which, under a sober conduct, might prove a useful member of society! In compliance with those intimations, I have taken the liberty to make this address to you.

"I am, Sir, your most obscure Servant, 66 PHILANTHROPOS." "MR. SPECTATOR, "This is to petition you in behalf of myself and many more of your gentle readers, that at any time when you may have private reasons against letting us know what you think yourself, you would be pleased to pardon us such letters of your correspondent as seem to be of no use but to the printer.

"It is further our humble request, that you would substitute advertisements in the place of such epistles; and that in order hereunto Mr. Buckley may be authorized to take up of your zealous friend Mr. Charles Lillie, any quantity of words he shall

from time to time have occasion for.

"The many useful parts of knowledge which may be communicated to the public this way will, we hope, be a consideration in favour of your petitioners. "And your Petitioners," &c.

Note. That particular regard be had to this peti. tion; and the papers marked letter R. may be carefully examined for the future.-T.

No. 298.] TUESDAY, FEB. 26, 1711-12.
Nec Veneris pharetris macer est, aut lampade fervet;
Inde faces ardent, veniunt a dote sagittæ.
Juv. Sat. vi. 137.
He sighs, adores, and courts her ev'ry hour:

are cross-barred; she is not permitted to go out of house but with her keeper, who is a staid relation of my own; I have likewise forbid her the use of pen and ink, for this twelvemonth last past, and do not suffer a band-box to be carried into her room before it has been searched. Notwithstanding these precautions, I am at my wit's end for fear of any sudden surprise. There were, two or three nights ago, some fiddles heard in the street, which I am afraid portend me no good; not to mention a tall Irishman, that has been seen walking before my house more than once this winter. My kinswoman likewise informs me, that the girl has talked to her twice or thrice of a gentleman in a fair wig, and that she loves to go to church more than ever she did in her life. She gave me the slip about a week ago, upon which my whole house was in alarm. I immediately dispatched a hue and cry after her to the 'Change, to her mantua-maker, and to the young ladies that visit her; but after above an hour's search she returned of herself, having been taking a walk, as she told me, by Rosamond's pond. I have hereupon turned off her woman, doubled her guards, and given new instructions to my relation, who, to give her her due, keeps a watchful eye over all her motions. This, Sir, keeps me in a perpetual anxiety, and makes me very often watch when my daughter sleeps, as I am afraid she is even with me in her turn. Now, Sir, what I would desire of you is, to represent to this fluttering tribe of young fellows, who are for making their fortunes by these indirect means, that stealing a man's daughter for the sake of her portion is but a kind of a tolerated robbery; and that they make but a poor amends to the father, whom they plunder after this manner, by going to bed with his child. Dear Sir, be speedy in your thoughts upon this subject, that, if possible, they may appear before the disbanding of "I am, Sir,

the army.

"Your most humble Servant,

"TIM. WATCH WELL." Themistocles, the great Athenian general, being asked whether he would rather choose to marry his daughter to an indigent man of merit, or to a worthless man of an estate, replied, that he should prefer a man without an estate to an estate without a man. The worst of it is, our modern fortune-hunters are

Who wou'd not do as much for such a dower?-DRYDEN. those who turn their heads that way, because they

“MR. SPECTATOR,

are good for nothing else. If a young fellow finds he can make nothing of Coke and Littleton, he provides himself with a ladder of ropes, and by that means very often enters upon the premises.

The same art of scaling has been likewise practised with good success by many military engineers. Stratagems of this nature make parts and industry superfluous, and cut short the way to riches.

"I AM amazed that, among all the variety of characters with which you have enriched your speculations, you have never given us a picture of those audacious young fellows among us who commonly go by the name of the fortune-stealers. You must know, Sir, I am one who live in a continual apprehension of this sort of people, that lie in wait, Nor is vanity a less motive than idleness to this day and night, for our children, and may be con- kind of mercenary pursuit. A fop, who admires sidered as a kind of kidnappers within the law. I his person in a glass, soon enters into a resolution am the father of a young heiress, whom I begin to of making his fortune by it, not questioning but that look upon as marriageable, and who has looked upon every woman that falls in his way will do him as herself as such for above these six years. She is much justice as he does himself. When an heiress now in the eighteenth year of her age. The fortune- sees a man throwing particular graces into his ogle, hunters have already cast their eyes upon her, and or talking loud within her hearing, she ought to take care to plant themselves in her view whenever look to herself; but if withal she observes a pair of she appears in any public assembly. I have myself red heels, a patch, or any other particularity in his caught a young jackanapes, with a pair of silver-dress, she cannot take too much care of her person. fringed gloves in the very fact. You must know, These are baits not to be trifled with, charms tha Sir, I have kept as a prisoner of state ever have done a world of execution, and made their since she was in her teens. Her cbamber-windows way into hearts which have been thought impreg

nable. The force of a man with these qualifications is so well known, that I am credibly informed there are several female undertakers about the 'Change, who, upon the arrival of a likely man out of the neighbouring kingdom, will furnish him with a proper dress from head to foot, to be paid for at a double price on the day of marriage. We must, however, distinguish between fortune-able when they befal other men. The most unparhunters and fortune-stealers. The first are those assiduous gentlemen who employ their whole lives in the chase, without ever coming at the quarry. Suffenus has combed and powdered at the ladies for thirty years together; and taken his stand in a side-box, until he has grown wrinkled under their eyes. He is now laying the same snares for the present generation of beauties, which he practised on their mothers. Cottilus, after having made his applications to more than you meet with in Mr. Cowley's ballad of mistresses, was at last smitten with a city lady of 20,000 sterling; but died of old age before he could bring matters to bear. Nor must I here omit my worthy friend Mr. Honeycomb, who has often told us in the club, that for twenty years successively, upon the death of a childless rich man, he immediately drew on his boots, called for his horse, and made up to the widow. When he is rallied upon his ill success, Will, with his usual gaiety, tells us, that he always found her pre-engaged.

Widows are indeed the great game of your fortune-hunters. There is scarce a young fellow in the town, of six foot high, that has not passed in re. view before one or other of these wealthy relicts. Hudibras's Cupid, who

took his stand

Upon a widow's jointure land, '

is daily employed in throwing darts, and kindling games. But as for widows, they are such a subtle generation of people, that they may be left to their own conduct: or if they make a false step in it, they are answerable for it to nobody but themselves. The young innocent creatures who have no knowleage and experience of the world, are those whose safety I would principally consult in this speculation. The stealing of such a one should, in my opinion, be as punishable as a rape. Where there is no judgment there is no choice; and why the inveigling a woman before she is come to years of discretion should not be as criminal as the seducing of her before she is ten years old, I am at a loss to comprehend.-L.

No. 312.] WEDNESDAY, FEB. 27, 1711-12. Quod huic officium, quæ laus, quod decus erit tanti, quod adipisci cum dolore corporis velit, qui dolorem summum malum sibi persuaserit? Quam porro quis ignominiam, quam turpitudinem non pertulerit, ut effugiat dolorem, si id summum malum esse decreverit ?-TULL

present condition, and thoughtless of the mutability of fortune. Fortune is a term which we must use in such discourses as these, for what is wrought by the unseen hand of the Disposer of all things. But methinks the disposition of a mind which is truly great, is that which makes misfortunes and sorrows little when they befal ourselves, great and lamentdonable malefactor in the world going to his death, and bearing it with composure, would win the pity of those who should behold him; and this not because his calamity is deplorable, but because he seems himself not to deplore it. We suffer for him who is less sensible of his own misery, and are inclined to despise him who sinks under the weight of his distresses. On the other hand, without any touch of envy, a temperate and well-governed mind looks down on such as are exalted with success, with a certain shame for the imbecility of human nature, that can so far forget how liable it is to calamity as to grow giddy with only the suspense of sorrow, which is the portion of all men. He, therefore, who turns his face from the unhappy man, who will not look again when his eye is cast upon modest sorrow, who shuns affliction like a contagion, does but pamper himself up for a sacrifice, and contract in himself a greater aptitude to misery by attempting to escape it. A gentleman, where I happened to be last night, fell into a discourse which I thought showed a good discerning in him. He took notice, that whenever men have looked into their heart for the idea of true excellence in human nature, they have found it to consist in suffering after a right manner, and with a good grace. Heroes are always drawn bearing sorrows, struggling with adversities, undergoing all kinds of hardships, and having, in culties and dangers. The gentleman went on to the service of mankind, a kind of appetite to diffiobserve that it is from this secret sense of the high merit which there is in patience under calamities, that the writers of romances, when they attempt to furnish out characters of the highest excellence, ransack nature for things terrible; they raise a new creation of monsters, dragons, and giants; where the danger ends, the hero ceases: when he has won an empire, or gained. his mistress, the rest of his story is not worth relating. My friend carried his discourse so far as to say, that it was for higher beings than men to join happiness and greatness in the same idea; but that in our condition we have no conception of superlative excellence, or heroism, but as it is surrounded with a shade of distress.

give ourselves, to be prepared for the ill events and It is certainly the proper education we should accidents we are to meet with in a life sentenced to be a scene of sorrow; but instead of this expectation, we soften ourselves with prospects of constant delight, and destroy in our minds the seeds of fortiWhat duty, what praise, or what honour will he think worth tude and virtue, which should support us in hours of enduring bodily pain for, who has persuaded himself that anguish. The constant pursuit of pleasure has in pain is the chief evil? Nay, to what ignominy, to what it something insolent and improper for our being. baseness, will he not stoop. to avoid pain, if he has deter-There is a pretty sober liveliness in the Ode of

mined it to be the chief evil?

It is a very melancholy reflection, that men are usually so weak, that it is absolutely necessary for them to know sorrow and pain, to be in their right senses. Prosperous people (for happy there are none) are hurried away with a fond sense of their

The naine of the widow here alluded to was Tomson See Grey's edit. of Hudibras, vol. i. part. i. canto . p. 212. 213.

Horace to Delius, where he tells him, loud mirth, or immoderate sorrow, inequality of behaviour either in adversity or prosperity, are alike ungraceful in man that is born to die. Moderation in both circumstances is peculiar to generous minds. Men of that sort ever taste the gratifications of health, and all other advantages of life, as if they were liable to part with them, and when bereft of them, resign them with a greatness of mind which shows ther

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