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admired in the Gazette. But whatever compli. N 64. MONDAY, MAY 14.

ments may be made on these occasions, the true

mourners are the mercers, filkmen, lacemen, and -Hic vivimus ambitiofâ

milliners. A prince of a merciful and royal dirPaupertate omnes

position would reflect with great anxiety upon the

Juv. Sat. iii. 183. profpect of his death, if he considered what num. The face of wealth in poverty we wear.

bers would be reduced to misery by that accident

only; who would think it of moment enough to THE most improper things we commit in the direct, that in the notification of his departure,

conduct of our lives, we are led into by the the honour done to him might be restrained to force of falbion. Initances might be given, in those of the houshold of the prince to whom it which a prevailing custom makes us act against thonld be signified. He would think a general the rules of nature, law, and common sense; but mourning to be in a less degree the same cereat present I Mall confine my confideration of the mony which is practised in barbarous nations, of eteet it has upon men's minds, by looking into killing their flaves to attend the obsequies of their our behaviour when it is the fashion to go into kings. mouming. The custom of representing the grief I had been wonderfully at a loss for many we have for the lors of the dead by our habits, months together, to guess at the character of a certainly had its rise from the real sorrow of such man who came now and then to our coffee-house; as were too much distreffed to take the proper care he ever ended a news-paper with this reflection, they ought of their drefs. By degrees it prevailed, "Well, I see all the foreign princes are in good tbar fuch as had this inward oppression upon their health.' If you asked, Pray Sir, what fays the minds, made an apology for not joining with the Postman from Vienna ? he answered, ' Make us rest of the world in their ordinary diversions by 'thanksul, the German princes are all well.' drefs fuited to their condition. This therefore What does he fay from Barcelona: “He does not was at first assumed by fuch only as were under « fpeak but that the country agrees very well with real distress; to whom it was a relief that they the new queen.' After very much inquiry, I had nothing about them fo light and gay as to be found this man of oniversal loyalty was a whole. ir fome to the gloom and melancholy of their in- fale dealer in filks and ribbons; his way is, it ward reflections, or that might misrepresent them seems, if he hires a weaver, or workman, to have to others. In process of time this laudable dif. it inserted in his articles, That all this fhall be tinction of t'e forrowful was loft, and mourningwell and truly performed, provided no foreign is now worn by heirs and widows. You see no

potentate shall depart this life within the time thing but magnificence and solemnity in the equi. ' abovementioned. It happens in all public page of the relict, and an air of release from servi- mournings, that the many trades which depend tude in the pomp of a fon who has loft a wealthy upon our habits, are during that folly either fixther. This fashion of forrow is ow become a pinched with present want, or terrified with the generous part of the ceremonial between princes apparent approach of it. All the atonement which and fovereigns, who in the language of all nations men can make for yvanton expences, which is a are filed brothers to each other, and put on the fort of insulting the scarcity under which others purple upon the death of any potentate with labour, is, that the superfluities of the wealthy whom they live in amity. Courtiers, and all who give supplies to the necessities of the poor; but, with themselves fuch, are immediately seized with instead of any other good arising from the affec. grief from head to foot upon this difafter to their tation of being in courtly habits of mourning, all prince; fo that one may know, by the very buc. order seems to be destroyed by it; and the true kles of a gentleman-usher, what degree of friend- honour, which one court does to another on that tip any deceased monarch maintained with the occasion, loses its force and efficacy. When a fo. court to which he belongs. A good courtier's ha- reign minister beholds the court of a nation, which bit and behaviour is hieroglyphical on these occa- fourishes in riches and plenty, lay alidę, upon the fons; he deals much in whispers, and you may loss of his master, all marks of fplendor and magfee hé dresses according to the best intelligence. nificence, though the head of such a joyfut peo

The general affectation among men, of appear- ple, he will conceive a greater idea of the honour ing greater than they are, makes the whole world done his master, than when he fees the generality run into the habit of the court. You see the lady, of the people in the fame habit. When one is who the day before was as various as a rainbow, afraid to ask the wife of a tradesman whom the upon the time appointed for beginning to mourn, has lost of her family; and after some preparation as dark as a cloud. This humour does not pre- endeavours to know whom she mourns for; how vail only on those whose fortunes can support any ridiculous is it to hear her explain herself that we change in their equipage, not on those only whose have lost one of the house of Austria ? Princes are incomes demand the wantonnefs of new appear- elevated so highly above the rest of mankind, that ances; but on such also who have just enough to it is a presumptuous distinction to take a part in clothe them. An old acquaintance of mine, of honours done to their memories, except we have ninety pounds a year, who has naturally the va- authority for it, by being related in a particular nity of being a man of fashion deep at his heart, manner to the court which pays that veneration is very much put to it to bear the mortality of to their friendship, and feems to express on such princes. He made a new black suit upon the death an occasion the sense of the uncertainty of human of the King of Spain, he turned it for the King of life in general, by assuming the habit of sorrow, Portugal, and he now keeps his chamber while it though in the full polletion of triumph and royis scouring for the emperor. He is a good ceco- alty.

R nomist in his extravagance, and makes only a fresh Hlack button upon his iron-gray finit for any potinitatc of (mall territrries; he indeed adda nis Crepe harband for a prince whole explore he has


A and

Now for Mrs. Harriot; she laughs at obedience N° 65. TUESDAY, MAY 15.

to an absent mother, whose tenderness Bury de

scribes to be very exquisite, for " that the is no - Demetri teque Tigelli

“ pleased with finding Harriot again, that the Discipulorum inter jubeo plorare cathedras, “ cannot chide her for being out of the way,

Hor. Sat. I. X. 90. This witty daughter, and fine lady, has so little Demetrius and Tigellius, know your place;

respect for this good woman, that the ridicules Go hence, and whine among the school-boy race.

her air in taking leave, and cries,

« In what

“ struggle is my poor mother yonder ? See, see FTER having at large explained what wit “ her head tottering, her eyes staring, and her un

“ der-lip trembling.” But all this is atoned for, it, all that labour seems but an useless inquiry, because “ the has more wit than is usual in her without some time be spent in considering the ap « sex, and as much malice, though she is as wild plication of it. The seat of wit, when one speaks « as you would with her, and has a demureners as a man of the town and the world, is the play- " in her looks that makes it so surprising !" Then house; I shall therefore fill this paper with reflec- to recommend her as a fit spouse for his hero, the tions upon the use of it in that place. The appli- poet makes her speak her fense of marriage very cation of wit in the theatre has as strong an affect ingeniously; “I think,” says she, “ I might be upon the manners of our gentlemen, as the taste brought to endure him, and that is all a reasonaof it has upon the writings of our authors. It ble woman should expect in an husband.” Itis, may, perhaps, look like a very presumptuous methinks, unnatural that we are not made to unwork, though not foreign from the duty of a Spec- derstand how she that was bred under a filly pitator, to tax the writings of such as have long had ous old mother, that would never trust her out of the general applause of a nation; but I shall als her fight, came to be so polite. ways make reason, truth, and nature, the measures It cannot be denied, but that the negligence of of praise and dispraise; if those are for me, the every thing, which engages the attention of the generality of opinion is of no consequence against sober and valuable part of mankind, appears very me; if they are against nie, the general opinion well drawn in this piece; but it is denied, that cannot long support me.

it is necessary to the character of a fine gentleWithout further preface, I am going to look in- man, that he should in that manner trample upto some of our most applauded plays, and see on all order and decency. As for the character whether they deserve the figure they at present of Dorimant, it is more of a coxcomb than that bear in the imaginations of men, or not. of Fopling. He says of one of his companions,

In reflecting upon these works, I fhall chiefly that a good correspondence between them is their dwell upon that for which each respective play is mutual interest. Speaking of that friend, he demost celebrated. The present paper shall be em- clares, their being much together so makes the ployed upon Sir Fopling Flutter. The received “ women think the better of his understanding, character of this play is, that it is the pattern of « and judge more favourably of my reputation. genteel comedy. Dorimant and Harriot are the “ It makes him pass upon some for a man of vecharacters of greatest consequence: and if these ry good sense, and me upon others for a very are low and mean, the reputation of the play is

« civil person." very unjust,

This whole celebrated piece is a perfect contraI will take for granted, that a fine gentleman diction to good manners, good sense, and comshould be honest in his actions, and refined in his mon honesty; and as there is nothing in it but language. Instead of this, our hero in this piece what is built upon the ruin of virtue and innois a direct knave in his designs, and a clown in cence, according to the notion of merit in this cohis language, Bellair is his admirer and friend; medy, I take the shoemaker to be, in reality, the in return of which, because he is forsooth a great- fine gentleman of the play; for it seems he is an er wit than his said friend, he thinks it reasona- Atheist, if we may depend upon his character as ble to persuade him to marry a young lady, whose given by the orange-woman, who is herself far virtue, he thinks, will last no longer than till the from being the lowest in the play. She says of a is a wife, and then she cannot but fall to his share, fine man, who is Dorimant's companion, there as he is an irresistible fine gentleman. The fall «' is not such another heathen in the town, except hood to Mrs. Loveit, and the barbarity of tri “ the Nioema ker." His pretension to be the hero umphing over her anguish for loting him, is ano- of the Drama appears ftill more in his own dether instance of his honesty, as well as his good- scription of his way of living with his lady.

As to his fine language; he calls the “ There is," says he, “never a man in town lives orange-woman, who it seems is inclined to grow inore like a gentleman with his wife than I do; fat, “ An over-grown jade, with a farket of guts". I never mind her motions; the never inquires “ before her;" and falutes her with a pretty “ into mine. We speak to one another civilly, • phrase of, How now, double tripe ?" Upon“ hate one another heartily; and because it is the mention of a country gentlewoman, whom “ vulgar to lie and soak together, we have each he knows nothing of, no one can imagine why, “ of us our several settle-bed." That of foaking he “ will lay his life she is some awkward ill- together is as good as if Dorimant had spoken it « fashioned country toad, who, not having above himself; and, I think, since he puts human nature « four dozen of hairs on her head, has adorned in as ugly a form as the circumstance will bear, « her baldness with a large white fruz, that she and is a stanch unbeliever, he is very much wrongsc may look sparkishly in the fore-front of the ed in having no part of the good fortune bestow“ king's box at an old play.” Unnatural mix- ed in the last act. ture of senseless common-place!

To speak plainly of this whole work, I think As to the generosity of his temper, he tells his nothing but being lost to a sense of innocence and poor footman. “If he did not wait better” he virtue can make any one see this comedy, with. would turn him away, in the insolent phrafe of Qui observinz more ficquent occafion to move « I'll uncase you."




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forrow and indignation, than mirth and laugh 'SIR,

At the same time I allow it to be nature, EING employed by Celimene to make up. but it is nature in its utmost corruption and degeneracy.

R recommend the case therein mentioned to your

• confideration, because she and I happen to dif.

« fer a little in our notions. I, who ain a rough, N° 66. WEDNESDAY, MAY 16. man, am afraid the young girl is in a fair way

' to be spoiled; therefore pray, Mr. Spectator, leci Motus doceri gaudet Ionicos

' us have your opinion of this fine thing called Matura virgo, & fingitur artubus

• Fine-Breeding; for I am afraid it differs too Jam nunc, & incestos amores

much from that plain thing called Goods De tenero meditatur ungui.

• Breeding. Hor. Od. III. vi. 21,

• Your most humble servant." Pcheld a ripe and melting maid Bound 'prentice to the wanton trade :

The general mistake among us in the educaIonian artists, at a mighty price,

ting our children, is, that in our daughters we Instruct her in the mysteries of vice,

take care of their persons and neglect their minds; What nets to spread, where fubtle baits to lay; in our fons, we are so intent upon adorning their And with an early hand they form the temper'd minds, that we wholly neglect their bodies. It clay.


is from this that you shall see a young lady cele

brated and admired in all the assemblies about HE two following letters are upon a fub- town, when her elder brother is afraid to come pressed without any air of gravity.

that we frequently observe a man's life is half

spent before he is taken notice of; and a woman To the Spectator.

in the prime of her years is out of fashion and (SIR,

neglected. The boy I Mall consider upon fome TAKE the freedom of asking your advice in other occasion, and at present stick to the girl ;

behalf of a young country kinswoman of and I am the more inclined to this, because i • mine who is lately come to town, and under have several letters which complain to me that

my care for her education. She is very pretty, my female readers have not understood me fome • but you can't imagine how unformed a creature days last past, and take themfelves to be uncon• it is. She comes to my hands just as nature cerned in the present turn of my writings. When • left her, half finified, and without any ac

a girl is safely brought from her nurse, before the • quired improvements. When I look on her I is capable of forming one simple notion of any

often think of the Belle Sauvage mentioned in thing in life, she is delivered to the hands of her one of your papers. Dear Mr. Spectator, help dancing-master; and with a collar round her me to make her comprehend the visible graces neck, the pretty wild thing is taught a fantasti

of speech, and the dumb eloquence of motion; cal gravity of behaviour, and forced to a parti« for the is at present a perfect stranger to both. cular way of holding her head, heaving her breast, • She knows no way to express herself but by her and moving with her whole body; and all this tongue, and that always to fignify her mean

under pain of never having an husband, if the ing. Her eyes serve her yet only to see with, steps, looks, or moves awry. This gives the " and she is utterly a foreigner to the language "young lady wonderful workings of imagination, • of looks and glances. In this I fancy you could what is to pass between her and this

husband that help her better than any body. I have be- ne is every moment told of, and for whom the « ftowed two months in teaching her to figh seems to be educated. Thus her fancy is engaged. ( when she is not concerned, and to smile when to turn all her endeavours to the ornament of " he is not pleased; and am ashamed to own me her person, as what must determine her good

makes little or no improvement. Then he is and ill in this life; and the naturally thinks, if no more able now to walk, than she was to go she is tall enough, she is wife enough for any thing

at a year old. By walking you will eafily know for which her education makes her think she is ( I mean that regular but casy motion, which designed. To make her an agreeable person is the

gives our persons so irrisistible a grace as if we main purpose of her parents; to that is all their. " moved to music, and is a kind of disengaged costs, to that is all their care directed : and ( figure, or, if I may fo speak, recitative danc- . from this general folly of parents we owe our sing. But the want of this I cannot blame in present numerous race of coquettes. These re« her, for I find the has no ear, and means no- flections puzzle me, when I think of giving my r thing by walking but to change her place. I advice on the subject of managing the wild thing o could pardon too her blushing, if she knew mentioned in the letter of my correspondent. But " how to carry herself in it, and if it did not sure there is a middle way to be followed; the « manifefly injure her complexion.

management of a young lady's person is not to ( They tell me you are a person who have seen be over-looked, but the erudition of her mind is "the world, and are a judge of fine-breeding; much more to be regarded. According as this which makes me ambitious of some instruc- is managed, you will see the mind follow the ap

tions from you for her improvement; which petites of the body, or the body express the vir(when you have savoured me with, hail fur- tues of the mind. “ther advise with you about the disposal of this Cleomira dances with all the elegance of mo• fair forester in marriage; for I will make it no tion imaginable; bui her eyes are so chastised 'fncret to you, that her person and education with the fimplicity and innocence of lier thoughts, s are to be her fortune. I am, Sir; that she raifes in her bcholders admiration and Your very humble servant, good-will, but no loose hopt or wild imaginaó Culimexe.'


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tion. The true art in this case is, to make the young men and women, whose limbs seemed mind and body improve together; and, if pofli- ' to have no other motion, but purely what the ble, to make gesture follow thought, and not let ' music gave them. After this part was over, thought be employed upon gesture.

R they began a diversion which they call Coun

try-Dancing, and wherein there were also some

' things not disagreeable, and divers EmblemaNo 67. THURSDAY, MAY 17,

rtical Figures, composed, as I guess, by wise

! men, for the instruction of youth. Saltare elegantiùs quàm necesse est probæ. SALUST. Among the rest, I observed one, which, I Too fine a dancer for a virtuous woman.

• think, they call Hunt the Squirrel, in which ( while the woman Aies the man pursues her;

but as soon as he turns, he runs away, and a philosopher chiding his friend for his be

The is obliged to follow. ing a lover of dancing, and a frequenter of balls. (The moral of this dance does, I think, very The other undertakes the defence of his favou. aptly recommend modesty and discretion to the rite diversion, which, he says, was at first invent female sex. ed by the goddess Rhea, and preserved the life of • But as the best institutions are liable to corJupiter himself, from the cruelty of his father ruptions, so, Sir, I must acquaint you, that Saturn. He proceeds to thew, that it had been very great abuses are crept into this entertainapproved by the greatest men in all ages; that ment. I was amazed to see my girl handed by, Homer calls Merion a Fine Dancer; and says, and handing, young fellows with so much fathat the graceful mien and great agility which miliarity; and I could not have thought it had he had acquired by that exercise, distinguished : « been in the child. They very often made ure him above the rest in the armies, both of Greeks of a most impudent and lascivious step called and Trojans.

Setting, which I know not how to describe to He adds, that Pyrrhus gained more reputation you, but by telling you that it is the very reverse by inventing the dance which is called after his of back to back. At last an impudent young dog name, than by all his other actions : that the La bid the fiddlers play a dance called Moll Patecedæmonians, who were the bravest people in " ly, and after having made two or three capers, Greece, gave great encouragement to this diver. ran to his partner, locked his arms in hers, fion, and made their Hormus, a dance much re and whisked her round cleverly above ground sembling the French Brawl, famous over all rin such a manner, that I, who sat upon one of Alia: that there were still extant fome Thessa. ( the lowest benches, saw further above her shoe "Jian statues erected to the honour of their best (than I can think fit to acquaint you with. I dancers : and that he wondered how his brother ' could no longerendure these enormities; wherephilosopher could declare himself against the opi. 'fore, just as my girl was going to be made a nions of those two persons, whom he professed " whirligig, I ran in, seized on the child, and so much to admire, Homer and Hesiod; the lat carried her home. ter of which compares valour and dancing toge “Sir, I am not yet old enough to be a fool. I ther; and says, “That the gods have bestowed suppose this diversion might be at first invent« fortitude on some men, and on others a dispo red to keep up a good understanding between fition for dancing.'

young men and women, and so far I am not Lastly, he puts him in mind that Socrates, againit it; but I shall never allow of these who, in the judgment of Apollo, was the wisest things. I know not what you will say to this of men, was not only a professed admirer of this ( cafe at present; but am sure that, had you been exercise in others, but learned it himself when with me, you would have seen matter of great he was an old man.

speculation. I am, The morose philosopher is so much affected

• Sir, yours, &c.' by these, and some other authorities, that he becomes a convert to his friend, and desires he I must confess I am afraid that my corresponwould take him with him when he went to his dent had too much reason to be a little out of next ball.

humour at the treatment of his daughter; but I I love to shelter myself under the examples of conclude that he would have been much more great men; and I think, I have sufficiently shew- so, had he seen one of those killing dances in ed that it is not below the dignity of these my which Will. Honeycomb assures me they are obliSpeculations to take notice of the following let- ged to dwell almost a minute on the fair one's ter, which, I suppose, is sent me by some sub- lips, or they will be too quick for the mulic, ftantial tradesman about Change.

and dance quite out of time.

I am not able however to give my final sentence ISIR,

against this diversion; and am of Mr. Cowley's AM a man in years, and by an honest in- opinion, that fo much of dancing, at least, as be

dustry in the world have acquired enough longs to the behaviour and an handsome car. ' to give my children a liberal education, hcugh riage of the body, is extremely useful, if not ab.

I was an utter stranger to it myself. My eld- solutely necessary. • eft daughter, a girl of fixteen, has for some We generally form such ideas of people at first • time been under the tuition of Monsieur Ri- light, as we are hardly ever persuaded to lay alide

gadoon, a dancing-master in the city; and I afterwards : for this reason, a man would with to was prevailed upon by her and her mother to have nothing disagreeable or uncomely in his apo

go last night to one of his balls. I must own proaches, and to be able to enter a room with a to you, Sir, that having never been at any such good grace. • place before, I was very much pleased and sur I might add, chat a moderate knowledge in the • prised with that part of his entertainment which litele rules of good-breeding gives a lian fome af. • he called French Dancing. There were leveral surance, and makes him ealy in all companies.


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For want of this, I have seen a professor of a libe- in discourse ; but, in/tead of this, we find that con. ral science at a loss to falute a lady; and a most vertation is never so much straitned and confined excellent mathematician not able to determine as in numerous allemblies. When a multitude whether he kould itand or tit wliile my lord drank meet together upon any fubjet of discourse, their to him.

debates are taken up chiefly with forms and geneIt is the proper business of a dancing master ral positions ; nay, if we come into a more conto regulate these matters; though I take it to be tracted ailenibly of men and women, the talk gea jult observation, that unless you add something nerally runs upon the weather, falhion, news, and of your own to what these fine gentlemen teach the like public topics. In proportion as converyou, and which they are wholly ignorant of them. fation gets into clubs and knots of friends, it defelves, you will much sooner get the character of scends into particulars, and grows more free and an affected fop, than of a well bred man. communicative: but the most open, instructive,

As for Country Dancing, it must indeed be and urreierved discourse, is that which passes beconferred that the great familiarities between the tween two persons who are familiar and intiinate two fexes on this occasion may fometimes produce friends. On these occasions, a man gives a loose very dangerous cunsequences; and I have often to every pation and every thoughi that is upperthought that fe:v ladies hearts are so obdurate as moit, discovers his most retired opinions of pernot to be melted by the charms of music, the force fons and things, trics the beauty and Arength of of motion, and an handsome young fellow who his sentiments, and exposes his whole soul to the is continually playing before their eyes, and con examination of his friend. vincing then that he has the perfect use of all his Tully was the first who observed, that friendlimbs.

ship improves happiness and abates misery, by Bue as this kind of dance is the particular in the doubling of our joy and dividing our grief; a vention of our own country, and as every one is thought in which he hath been followed by all the more or less a proficient in it, I would not dif- eff:yers upon friendship, that have written fince countenanceit; but rather suppofe it may be prac- his time. Sir Francis Bacon has finely defcribed lifed innocently by others, as well as myself who other advantages, or, as he calls them, fruits of an often partner to my landlady's eldest daugh- friendihip; and indeed there is no subject of mo

rality which has been better handled and more POSTSCRIPT.

exhausted than this. Among the several fine

things which have been spoken of it, I shall beg Ilaving heard a good character of the collection leave to quote some out of a very ancient author, sot pictures which is to be exposed to sale on Fri- whose book would be regarded by our modern day next; and concluding from the following wits as one of the most shining tracts of morality Jerter, that the person who collected them is a man that is extant, if it appeared under the name of a of no unelegant taite, I will be so muchı his friend Confucius, or of any celebrated Grecian philoas to publish it, provided the reader will only sopher; I mean the little apocryphal treatise enlook upon it as filling up the place of an adver- titled, The wisdom of the Son of Sirach. How citement.

finely as he described the art of making friends,

by an obliging and affable behaviour; and laid . From the Three Chairs in the Piazza, Covent- down that precept which a late excellent author Garden.

has delivered as his own, “That we should have “SIR,

May 16, 17. many well-wishers, but few friends ?' 'Sweet S you are a Spectator, I think we, who ' language will multiply friends ; and a fair

make it our business to exhibit any thing • speaking tongue will increase kind greetings. co public view, ought to apply ourselves to you • Be in peace with many, nevertheless have but

for your apprebation. I have travelled Europe, one counsellor of a thousand.' With what pru. • to furnish out a show for you, and have brought dence does he caution us in the choice of our

with me wirat has been admired in every coun. friends; and with what strokes of nature, I could

try through which I passed. You have declarcd almost say of humour, has he dcscribed the behasin mary papers, that your greatest delights are viour of treacherous and self-interested friend? I those of the eye, which I do not doube but I If thou wouldīt get a friend, prove him first, ? Thall gratily with as beautiful objects as yours • and be not hasty to credit him: for some man

cver beheld. If canles, forests, ruins fine wo ! is a friend for his own occasion, and will not

men, and graceiul men, can please you. I dare abide in the day of thy trouble. And there is & proinise you much futisfaction, if you will ap- ' a friend, who being turned ta emnity and strife

pcar at my auction on Friday next. A figlitis, ( will discover thy reproach.' Again, 'Some i fuppose, as grateful to a Spectator, as a treat to ' friend is a companion at the table, and will not

ancther person, and therefore I hope you will continue in the day of thy affliction : but in thy - pardon this invitation from,

profperity he will be as thyself, and will be bold (SIR,

over thy servants. If thou be brought low he Your most obedient humble servant, I will be against thee, and hide himself from thy X

). Grabun.' (face.' What can be more strong and pointed

than the following verse ? 'Separate thyself from

I thine ene: nies, and take heed of thy friends.' No. 68. FRIDAY, MAY IS.

In the next words he particularizes one of those

fruits of friend hip, which is described at length Wo: duo turba fu97.15 Ovid. Met. i. 355. by the two famous authors above-mentioned, and We two are a multitude,

falls into a general elogium of friendship, which is

very just as well as very sublime. "A faithful NE would think that the larger the compa ' friend is a ftreng defence; and he that hath

ny is in which we are engaged, the greater found such an one, liath found a treasure. No. variety of thoughts and subjects would be started thing coth counttrvail a faithful friend, and his



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