N° 397 Fecerat Thursday, June 5, 1712. -Dolor ipfe difertam Ovid. Metam. xiii. 225. Her grief infpir'd her then with eloquence. A S the Stoic philofophers difcard all paffions in general, they will not allow a wife man fo much as to pity the afflictions of another. If thou feeft thy friend in trouble, fays Epictetus, thou mayeft put on a look of forrow, and condole with him, but take care that thy forrow be not real. The more rigid of this sect would not comply fo far as to fhew even fuch an outward appearance of grief, but when one told them of any calamity that had befallen even the nearest of their acquaintance, would immediately reply, What is that to me? If you aggravated the circumstances of the afflic tion, and thewed how one misfortune was followed by another, the answer was still, All this may be true, and what is it to me? For my own part, I am of opinion, compaffion does not only refine and civilize human nature, but has fomething in it more pleafing and agreeable than what can be met with in fuch an indolent happiness, fuch an indifference to mankind as that in which the Stoics placed their wisdom. As love is the most delightful paffion, pity is nothing elfe but love foftened by a degree of forrow. In fhort it is a kind of pleafing anguish, as well as generous fympathy, that knits mankind together, and blends them in the fame common lot. Those who have laid down rules for rhetoric or poetry, advise the writer to work himself up, if poffible, to the pitch of forrow which he endeavours to produce in others. There are none therefore who ftir up pity fo much as thofe who indite their own fufferings. Grief has a natural eloquence belonging to it, and breaks out in more moving fentiments than can be fupplied by the fineft imagination. imagination. Nature on this occafion dictates a thoufand paffionate things which cannot be fupplied by art. It is for this reafon that the fhort fpeeches or fentences which we often meet with in hiftories, make a deeper impreffion on the mind of the reader, than the moft laboured ftrokes in a well-written tragedy. Truth and matter of fact fets the perfon actually before us in the one, whom fiction places at a greater distance from us in the other. I do not remember to have feen any ancient or modern story more affecting than a letter of Ann of Bologne, wife to King Henry the eighth, and mother to Queen Elizabeth, which is ftill extant in the Cotton library, as written by her own hand. Shakespear himself could not have made her talk in a frain fo fuitable to her condition and character. One fees in it the expoftulation of a flighted lover, the refentments of an injured woman, and the forrows of an imprifoned queen. I need not acquaint my reader that this princefs was then under profecution for difloyalty to the king's bed, and that she was afterwards publicly beheaded upon the fame account, tho' this profecution was believed by many to proceed, as the herself inti mates, rather from the king's love to Jane Seymour, than from any actual crime in Ann of Bologne. Queen Ann Boleyn's last letter to King Henry. Cotton Lib. Otho C. 10. ་ Y OUR Grace's difpleafure, and my imprisonment, are things fo ftrange unto me, as what to write, or what to excufe, I am altogether ignorant. Whereas you fend unto me, (willing me to confefs a truth, and to obtain your favour) by fuch an one, whom you know to be mine ancient profeffed enemy, I no fooner received this meffage by him, than I rightly conceived your meaning; and, if, as you fay, confeffing a truth indeed may procure my fafety, I fhall with all willingness and duty perform your command. But let not your Grace ever imagine, that your poor wife will ever be brought to acknowledge a fault, ⚫ where not fo much as a thought thereof preceded. B 6 And And to speak a truth, never prince had wife more loyal in all duty, and in all true affection, than you have ever found in Ann Boleyn: with which name and ⚫ place I could willingly have contented myfelf, if God and your Grace's pleasure had been fo pleased. Neither did I at any time fo far forget myfelf in my exal⚫tation or received queenship, but that I always looked for fuch an alteration as I now find; for the ground of my preferment being on no furer foundation than · your Grace's fancy, the least alteration I knew was fit and fufficient to draw that fancy to fome other object. You have chofen me from a low eftate to be your queen and companion, far beyond my defert or defire. • If then you found me worthy of fuch honour, good your Grace let not any light fancy, or bad counsel of • mine enemies, withdraw your princely favour from me; neither let that flain, that unworthy ftain, of a difloyal heart towards your good Grace, ever cast so foul a blot on your most dutiful wife, and the infantprincefs your daughter. Try me, good King, but let me have a lawful trial, and let not my fworn enemies fit as my accufers and judges; yea let me receive an open trial, for my truth fhall fear no open fhame; then shall you fee either mine innocence cleared, your fufpicion and confcience fatisfied, the ignominy and flander of the world ftopped, or my guilt openly declared. So that whatfoever God or you may de• termine-of me, your Grace may be freed from an open cenfure, and mine offence being fo lawfully proved, your Grace is at liberty, both before God and man, not only to execute worthy punishment on me as an unlawful wife, but to follow your affection, already fettled on that party, for whofe fake I am now as I am, whofe name I could some good while fince have pointed unto, your Grace not being ignorant of my fufpicion therein. But if you have already determined of me, and that not only my death, but an infamous flander must bring you the enjoying of your defired happiness; then I defire of God, that he will pardon your great fin therein, and likewife mine enemies, the inftruments thereof, and that he will not call you to a strict • account ' account for your unprincely and cruel ufage of me, at his general judgment feat, where both you and • myself muft shortly appear, and in whofe judgment I • doubt not (whatfoever the world may think of me) ⚫ mine innocence shall be openly known, and fuffici⚫ently cleared. My laft and only request shall be, that myself may only bear the burden of your Grace's displeasure, and tharft may not touch the innocent fouls of those poor gentlemen, who (as I understand) are likewife in Atrait imprisonment for my fake. If ever I have found favour in your fight, if ever the name of Ann Boleyn hath been pleafing in your ears, then let me obtain this request, and I will fo leave to trouble your Grace any further, with mine earnest prayers to the Trinity, to have your Grace in his good keeping, and to direct you in all your actions. From my doleful prison in the Tower, this fixth of May; With art and wisdom, and be mad by rule. CREECH. CY YNTHIO and Flavia are perfons of distinction in this town, who have been lovers these ten months laft paft, and writ to each other for gallantry fake, under thofe feigned names: Mr. Such-a one one and Mrs. Such-a-one not being capable of raifing the foul out of the ordinary tracts and paffages of life, up to that elevation which makes the life of the enamoured fo much fuperior to that of the rest of the world. But ever since the beauteous Cecilia has made fuch a figure as the now does in the circle of charming women, Cynthio has been fecretly one of her adorers. Lætitia has been the finest woman in town these three months, and fo long Cynthio has acted the part of a lover very awkwardly in the prefence of Flavia. Fla via has been too blind towards him, and has too fincere an heart of her own, to obferve a thoufand things which would have difcovered this change of mind to any one lefs engaged than fhe was. Cynthio was mufing yefterday in the piazza in Covent Garden, and was faying to himself that he was a very ill man to go on in vifiting and profeffing love to Flavia, when his heart was inthralled to another. It is an infirmity that I am not conftant to Flavia; but it would be ftill a greater crime, fince I cannot continue to love her, to profess that I do. To marry a woman with the coldnefs that ufually indeed comes on after marriage, is ruining one's felf with one's eyes open; befides it is really doing her an injury. This laft confideration, forfooth, of injuring her in perfifting, made him refolve to break off upon the firft favourable opportunity of making her angry. When he was in this thought, he faw Robin the Porter, who waits at Will's coffee-houfe, paffing by. Robin, you must know, is the best man in the town for carrying a billet; the fellow has a thin body, fwift ftep, demure looks, fufficient fenfe, and knows the town. This man carried Cynthio's first letter to Flavia, and by frequent errands ever fince, is well known to her. The fellow covers his knowledge of the nature of his meffages with the most exquifite low humour imaginable. The first he obliged Flavia to take, was by complaining to her that he had a wife and three children, and if he did not take that letter, which he was fure there was no harm in, but rather love, his family muft go fupperlefs to bed, for the gentleman would pay him according as he did his bufinefs. Robin therefore Cynthio now thought fit to make use of, and gave him orders to wait 8 before |