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osition, which always argues true greatness of ind, and is usually accompanied with undaunted urage and resolution, is in a great measure lost nong us.

The dialect of conversation is now-a-days so velled with vanity and compliment, and so surited (as I may say) of expressions of kindness and spect, that if a man that lived an age or two ago ould return into the world again, he would really ant a dictionary to help him to understand his wn language, and to know the true intrinsic value f the phrase in fashion; and would hardly at first elieve at what a low rate the highest strains and xpressions of kindness imaginable do commonly ass in current payment; and when he should come › understand it, it would be a great while before e could bring himself with a good countenance, id a good conscience, to converse with men upon qual terms and in their own way.'

I have by me a letter which I look upon as a reat curiosity, and which may serve as an exemlification to the foregoing passage, cited out of is most excellent prelate. It is said to have een written in King Charles the Second's reign y the ambassador of Bantam, a little after his❘ rrival in England *.

MASTER,

THE people, where I now am, have tongues furher from their hearts than from London to Banam, and thou knowest the inhabitants of one of hese places do not know what is done in the other. They call thee and thy subjects barbarians, because we speak what we mean; and account themselves civilized people, because they speak one thing d mean another: truth they call barbarity, and Falsehood politeness. Upon my first landing, one, ho was sent from the king of this place to meet ne, told me, that he was extremely sorry for the torm I had met with just before my arrival. I was roubled to hear him grieve and afflict himself upon my account; but in less than a quarter of an our he smiled, and was as merry as if nothing ad happened. Another who came with him told ne by my interpreter, he should be glad to do me any service that lay in his power. Upon which I desired him to carry one of my portmanteaus for me; but, instead of serving me according to his promise, he laughed, and bid another do it. I Lodged the first week at the house of one who dered me to think myself at home, and to consider his house as my own. Accordingly, I the next morning began to knock down one of the walls of t, in order to let in the fresh air, and had packed up some of the household goods, of which 1 inended to have made thee a present; but the false varlet no sooner saw me falling to work, but he ment word to desire me to give over, for that he would have no such doings in his house. I had not been long in this nation before I was told by one, for whom I had asked a certain favour from the chief of the king's servants, whom they here call the lord-treasurer, that I had eternally obliged him. I was so surprised at his gratitude, that I could not forbear saying, "What service is there which one man can do for another, that can oblige him to all eternity?" However, I only asked him, for my reward, that he would lend me bis eldest daughter during my stay in this country; but 1 quickly found that he was as treacherous as the rest of his countrymen.

At my first going to court, one of the great men almost put me out of countenance, by asking ten thousand pardons of me for only treading by

In 1682.

accident upon my toe. They call this kind of lie a compliment; for, when they are civil to a great man, they tell him untruths, for which thou wouldest order any of thy officers of state to receive a hundred blows upon his foot. I do not know how I shall negociate any thing with this people, since there is so little credit to be given to them. When I go to see the king's scribe, I am generally told that he is not at home, though perhaps I saw him go into his house almost the very moment before. Thou wouldest fancy that the whole nation are physicians, for the first question they always ask me is, how I do: I have this question put to me above a hundred times a day. Nay, they are not only thus inquisitive after my health, but wish it in a more solemn manner, with a full glass in their hands, every time I sit with them at table, though at the same time they would persvade me to drink their liquors in such quantities as I have found by experience will make me sick. They often pretend to pray for thy health also in the same manner; but I have more reason to expect it from the goodness of thy constitution than the sincerity of their wishes. May thy slave escape in safety from this double-tongued race of men, and live to lay himself once more at thy feet in the royal city of Bantam !

ADDISON.

N° 558. WEDNESDAY, JUNE 23, 1714,

Qui fit, Marcenas, ut nemo, quam sibi sortem
Seu ratio dederit, scu fors objecerit, itla
Contentus vivat: taudet diversa sequentes?
O fortunati mercatores, gravis anmis
Miles ait, multo jam fructus membra labore!
Contra mercator, navim jactantibus austris,
Militia est potior. Quid enim? concurritur: hora
Momento cita mors venit, aut victoria luta.
Agricolam laudat juris legumque peritus,
Sub galli cantum consultor ubi ostia pulsat.
Ille, datis vadibus, qui rure extractus in urbem est,
Solos felices viventes clamat in urbe.

Cartera de genere hoc (adeo sunt multa) loquacem
Delassare valent Fabium. Ne te morer, audi
Quo rem deducam. Si quis Deus, en ego, dicat,
Jam faciam quod vultis: cris tu, qui modo, miles,
Mercator: tu consultus modo, rusticus. Hinc vos,
Vos hinc mutatis discedite partibus. Eja,
Quid statis? Nolint. Atqui licet esse beatis.
HOR. Sat i. l. i. ver. 1.

Whence is't, Maecenas, that so few approve
The state they're plac'd in, and incline to rove;
Whether against their will by fate impos'd,
Or by consent and prudent choice espous'd?
Happy the merchant! the old soldier cries,
Broke with fatigues and warlike enterprise.
The merchant, when the dreaded hurricane
Tosses his wealthy cargo on the main,
Applauds the wars and toils of a campaign:
There au engagement soon decides your doom,
Bravely to die, or come victorious home.
The lawyer vows the farmer's life is best,
When at the dawn the clients breas his rest.
The farmer, having put in bail t' appear,
And fore'd to town, cries, they are happiest there:
With thousands more of this inconstant race,
Would tire ev'n Fabius to relate each case.
Not to detain you longer, pray attend
The issue of all this; should Jove descend
And grant to every man his rash demand,
To run his lengths with a neglectful hand?
First, grant the harass'd warrior a release,
Bid him go trade, and try the fait less seas,
To purchase treasure and declining ease:
Next, call the picader from his learned strife,
To the calm blessings of a country life:
And, with the e separate demands ismiss
Each supplant to enjoy the promis'd ulics:
Don't you believe they'd run? Not one will move,
Tho' proffer'd to be happy from above.

HORNECK.

Ir is a celebrated thought of Socrates, that if all

the misfortunes of mankind were cast into a pub.

lic stock, in order to be equally distributed among the whole species, those who now think themselves the most unhappy would prefer the share they are already possessed of before that which would fall to them by such a division. Horace has carried this thought a great deal further in the motto of my paper, which implies, that the hardships of misfortunes we lie under are more easy to us than those of any other person would be, in case we could change conditions with him.

As I was ruminating on these two remarks, and seated in my elbow-chair, I insensibly fell asleep; when on a sudden methought there was a proclamation made by Jupiter, that every mortal should bring in his griefs and calamities, and throw them together in a heap. There was a large plain appointed for this purpose. I took my stand in the centre of it, and saw with a great deal of pleasure the whole human species marching one after another, and throwing down their several loads, which immediately grew up into a prodigious mountain, that seemed to rise above the clouds.

There was a certain lady of a thin airy shape, who was very active in this solemnity. She carried a magnifying glass in one of her hauds, and was clothed in a loose flowing robe, embroidered with several figures of fiends and spectres, that discovered themselves in a thousand chimerical shapes as her garment hovered in the wind. There was something wild and distracted in her looks. Her name was Fancy. She led up every mortal to the appointed place, after having very officiously assisted him in making up his pack, and laying it upon his shoulders. My heart melted within me to see my fellow-creatures groaning under their respective burdens, and to consider that prodigious bulk of human calamities which lay before me.

There were, however, several persons who gave me great diversion upon this occasion. I observed one bringing in a fardel very carefully concealed under an old embroidered cloak, which, upon his throwing it into the heap, I discovered to be Poverty. Another, after a great deal of puffing, threw down his luggage, which, upon examining, I found to be his wife.

ing concluded within myself, that every one we take this opportunity of getting rid of his passon, prejudices, and frailties.

I took notice in particular of a very profe fellow, who I did not question came loaded va his crimes: but upon searching into his bundle found that, instead of throwing his guilt from t he had only laid down his memory. He was lowed by another worthless rogue, who tlung aw his modesty instead of his ignorance.

When the whole race of mankind had thes their burdens, the phantom which had been so bar on this occasion, seeing me an idle Spectare what passed, approached towards me. 1 gms uneasy at her presence, when of a sudden she l her magnifying glass full before my eyes. Is sooner saw my face in it, but was startled at t shortness of it, which now appeared to me a utmost aggravation. The immoderate brevity. the features made me very much out of h with my own countenance, upon which I threw i from me like a mask. It happened very hork that one who stood by me had just before thr down his visage, which it seems was too long him It was indeed extended to a most sa length; I believe the very chin was, mos speaking, as long as my whole face. We had by of us an opportunity of mending ourselves; & all the contributions being now brought it, eve man was at liberty to exchange his m.forta those of another person. But as there arose new incidents in the sequel of my vision, I reserve them for the subject of my next paper.

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Were it not just that Jove, provok'd to beat,
Shou'd drive these triflers from the bal ow'd seat,
And unrelenting stand when they intreat?
HORNECK.

In my last paper I gave my reader a sight of
mountain of miseries which was made up at
several calamities that afflict the minds of mi
saw with unspeakable pleasure the whole spe
thus delivered from its sorrows; though at the s
time, as we stood round the heap, and
the several materials of which it was comp
there was scarcely a mortal in this vast md.is,
who did not discover what he thought plestos dié
blessings of life, and wondered how the ow
them ever came to look upon them as burthens and
grievances.

There were multitudes of lovers saddled with very whimsical burdens composed of darts and flames; but what was very odd, though they sighed as if their hearts would break under these bundles of calamities, they could not persuade themselves to cast them into the heap, when they came up to it; but, after a few faint efforts, shook their heads and marched away, as heavy loaden as they came. I saw multitudes of old women throw down their wrinkles, and several young ones who stripped themselves of a tawny skin. There were very great heaps of red noses, large lips, and rusty teeth. The truth of it is, I was surprised to see the greatest part of the mountain made up of bodily deformities. Observing one advancing towards the heap with a larger cargo than ordinary upon his back, I found upon his near approach that it was only a natural hump, which he disposed of with great joy of heart among this collection of human miseries. There were likewise distempers of all sorts; though I could not but observe, that there were many more imaginary than real. One little packet I could Upon this Fancy began again to bestir desel not but take notice of, which was a complication and, parcelling out the whole heap with incre of all the diseases incident to human nature, and activity, recommended to every one his par was in the hand of a great many fine people; this packet. The hurry and confusion at this t was called the spleen. But what most of all sur- not to be expressed. Some observations prised me, was a remark I made, that there was made upon the occasion, I shall communa not a single vice or folly thrown into the whole the public. A venerable grey-headed heap: at which I was very much astonished, hav-had laid down the colic, and who I ford F

As we were regarding very attentively this fusion of miseries, this chaos of calamity, Jep issued out a second proclamation, that every caf was now at liberty to exchange his affliction, return to his habitation with any such other bulie as should be delivered to him.

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an heir to his estate, snatched up an undutiful son that had been thrown into the heap by an angry father. The graceless youth, in less than a quarter of an hour, pulled the old gentleman by the beard, and had like to have knocked his brains out; so that meeting the true father, who came to wards him with a fit of the gripes, he begged him o take his son again, and give him back his colic; out they were incapable either of them to recede From the choice they had made. A poor galley.manded to disappear. There was sent in her stead lave, who had thrown down his chains, took up the out in their stead, but made such wry faces, that ne might easily perceive he was no great gainer y the bargain. It was pleasant enough to see the everal exchanges that were made, for sickness gainst poverty, hunger against want of appetite, nd care against pain.

wandered up and down under the pressure of their several burthens. The whole plain was filled with murmurs and complaints, groans and lamentations Jupiter, at length taking compassion on the poor mortals, ordered them a second time to lay down their loads, with a design to give every one his own again. They discharged themselves with a great deal of pleasure; after which, the phantom who had led them into such gross delusions was com

a goddess of a quite different figure: her motions were steady and composed, and her aspect serious but cheerful. She every now and then cast her eyes towards heaven, and fixed them upon Jupiter; her name was Patience. She had no sooner placed herself by the Mount of Sorrows, but, what I thought very remarkable, the whole heap sunk to

The female world were very busy among them-such a degree, that it did not appear a third part so elves in bartering for features: one was trucking lock of grey hairs for a carbuncle, another was aking over a short waist for a pair of round oulders, and a third cheapening a bad face for a st reputation: but on all these occasions there as not one of them who did not think the new emish, as soon as she had got it into her posseson, much more disagreeable than the old one. I ade the same observation on every other misfor-repine at my own misfortunes, or to envy the hapne or calamity which every one in the assembly ought upon himself in lieu of what he had parted ith; whether it be that all the evils which befal are in some measure suited and proportioned to ir strength, or that every evil becomes more suprtable by our being accustomed to it, I shall not etermine.

big as it was before. She afterwards returned every man his own proper calamity, and, teaching him how to bear it in the most commodious manner, he marched off with it contentedly, being very well pleased that he had not been left to his own choice as to the kind of evils which fell to his lot. Besides the several pieces of morality to be drawn out of this vision, I learnt from it never to

I could not from my heart forbear pitying the
or hump-backed gentleman mentioned in the
mer paper, who went off a very well shaped
rson with a stone in his bladder; nor the fine
ntleman who had struck up this bargain with
m, that limped through a whole assembly of la-
es, who used to admire him, with a pair of shoul-
rs peeping over his head.

I must not omit my own particular adventure.
y friend with a long visage had no sooner taken
on him my short face but he made such a gro-
que figure in it, that as I looked upon him I
ld not forbear laughing at myself, insomuch
at I put my own face out of countenance. The
or gentleman was so sensible of the ridicule,
t I found he was ashamed of what he had done:
the other side, I found that I myself had no
at reason to triumph; for as I went to touch my
ehead I missed the place, and clapped my finger
on my upper lip. Besides, as my nose was
Feeding prominent, I gave it two or three un-
ky knocks as I was playing my hand about my
ze, and aiming at some other part of it. I saw
o other gentlemen by me who were in the same
iculous circumstances. These had made a fool-
Swop between a couple of thick bandy legs and
long trapsticks that had no calves to them.
e of these looked like a man walking upon
ts, and was so lifted up into the air, above his
linary height, that his head turned round with
while the other made such awkward circles as
attempted to walk, that he scarcely knew how
move forward upon his new supporters. Ob-
wing him to be a pleasant kind of fellow, I
ck my cane in the ground, and told him I would
him a bottle of wine that he did not march up
it on a line that I drew for him in a quarter of
hour.

The heap was at last distributed among the two
es, who made a most piteous sight, as they

piness of another, since it is impossible for any man to form a right judgment of his neighbour's sufferings; for which reason also I have determined never to think too lightly of another's complaints, but to regard the sorrows of my fellow-creatures with sentiments of humanity and compassion.

ADDISON*.

N° 560. MONDAY, JUNE 28, 1714.

Verba intermissa retentat.

OVID. Met. 1. i. ver. 746. He tries his tongue, his silence softly breaks. DRYDEN.

EVERY one has heard of the famous conjurer†, who, according to the opinion of the vulgar, has studied himself dumb; for which reason, as it is believed, he delivers out all his oracles in writing. Be that as it will, the blind Teresias was not more famous in Greece than this dumb artist has been for some years last past in the cities of London and Westminster. Thus much for the profound gentleman who honours me with the following epistle:

< SIR, From my cell, June 24, 1714. 'BEING informed that you have lately got the use of your tongue, I have some thoughts of following your example, that I may be a fortune-teller properly speaking. I am grown weary of my ta citurnity, and having served my country many years under the title of "the dumb doctor," I shall now prophesy by word of mouth, and (as Mr. Lee says of the magpie, who you know was a great fortune-teller among the ancients) chatter

"The Spectator, from its commencement in this eighth volume, was published only three times a week, and no discriminative marks were added to the papers. Mr. Tickell has

ascribed twenty-three to Addison; viz. No 556, 557, 558. 559, 561, 562, 565, 567, 568, 569,571, 574, 575, 579, 580, 582, 583, 584, 585, 590, 592, 598, and 600. Addison therefore produced more than a fourth part of this volume." Dr. Johnson's Lives of Eng. Poets, art. Addison, vol. ii. p. 97, 98, 8vo. edit. 1801. It is said, that Addison and C. Budgell were the sole conductors of this eighth volume; in which it does not appear that Steele was concerned.

+ Duncan Campbell.-See No 474.

futurity. I have hitherto chosen to receive questions and return answers in writing, that I might avoid the tediousness and trouble of debates, my querists being generally of a humour to think that they have never predictions enough for their money. In short, sir, my case has been something like that of those discreet animals the monkeys, who, as the Indians tell us, can speak if they would, but purposely avoid it that they may not be made to work. I have hitherto gained a livelihood by holding my tongue, but shall now open my mouth in order to fill it. If I appear a little word-bound in my first solutions and responses, 1 hope it will not be imputed to any want of foresight, but to the long disuse of speech. I doubt not by this invention to have all my former customers over again; for, if I have promised any of them lovers or husbands, riches or good luck, it is my design to confirm to them, viva voce, what I have already given them under my hand. If you will honour me with a visit, I will compliment you with the first opening of my mouth; and if you please you may make an entertaining dialogue out of the conversation of two dumb men. Excuse

this trouble, worthy sir, from one who has been a long time

Your silent admirer,

CORNELIUS AGRIPPA.'

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I AM a member of a female society who call ourselves the Chit-chat Club, and am ordered by the whole sisterhood to congratulate you upon the use of your tongue. We have all of us a mighty mind to hear you talk, and if you will take your place among us for an evening, we have unanimously agreed to allow you one minute in ten, without interruption,

'I am, SIR,

Your humble servant,

'S. T.'

in history, since that which happened to the of Croesus; nay, I believe you might have en higher, and have added Balaam's Wee impatient to see more of your productors expect what words will next fall from yo", * as much attention as those who were set to the speaking head which Friar Bacon for erected in this place.

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We are, worthy SIR,

HONEST SPEC,

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Your most humble servant. 'B. R. T. D. &

Middle-Teri J.

I AM very glad to hear that thon bezi prate; and find, by thy yesterday's vision, so used to it that thou canst not forbear tal thy sleep. Let me only advise thee to qu other men, for I am afraid thou wilt be verit if thou dost not intend to use the phrases in f as thou callest them in thy second paper. thou a mind to pass for a Bantamite*, or 1) us all Quakers? I do assure thee, dear Sper, not polished out of my veracity, when 1: myself

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Thy constant admirer,
And humble servant,

FRANK TOWNLY

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SIR,

f

'I Am a tall, broad-shouldered, impudent, fellow, and, as I thought, every way qual a rich widow; but after having tried my P. S. You may find us at my Lady Betty able to get one single relict in the mind. for above three years together, I have at * Clack's, who will leave orders with her porter, attacks were generally successful, but always that if an elderly gentleman, with a short face, off as soon as they came to the word seale inquires for her, he shall be admitted, and no ques-Though I have not improved my fortite t

tions asked.'

I have my experience, and have leamt sv

1tlemen, who are commonly distinguished

As this particular paper shall consist wholly of secrets which may be of use to those unhappy? what I have received from my correspondents, shall fill up the remaining part of it with other congratulatory letters of the same nature.

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name of widow-hunters, and who do that this tribe of women are, generally spa as much upon the catch as themselves. I communicate to you the mysteries of a cer male cabal of this order, whɔ call therely Widow-club. This club consists of nie enced dames, who take their places oxe *** round a large oval table.

1. Mrs. President is a person who basd of six husbands, and is now detersised to t seventh; being of opinion that there a virtue in the touch of a seventh in hard. seventh son. Her comrades are as lar

2. Mrs. Snap, who has four jointere different bedfellows, of four different sh* is at present upon the point of mama" * Middlesex man, and is said to have a £"> extending her possessions through all the in England on this side the Treut.

• See No 557.

3. Mrs. Medlar, who, after two husbands and a gallant, is now wedded to an old gentleman of sixty. Upon her making her report to the club after a week's cohabitation, she is still allowed to sit as a widow, and accordingly takes her place at the board.

4. The widow Quick, married within a fortnight after the death of her last husband. Her weeds have served her thrice, and are still as good as

new.

5. Lady Catharine Swallow. She was a widow at eighteen, and has since buried a second husband and two coachmen.

6, The Lady Waddle. She was married in the 15th year of her age to Sir Simon Waddle, Knight, aged threescore and twelve, by whom she had twins nine months after his decease. In the 55th | year of her age she was married to James Spindle, Esq. a youth of one-and-twenty, who did not outlive the honey-moon.

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'They are obliged, when any one makes love to a member of the society, to communicate his name; at which time the whole assembly sit upon his reputation, person, fortune, and good humour; and if they find him qualified for a sister of the club, they lay their heads together how to make him sure. By this means they are acquainted with all the widow-hunters about town, who often afford 7. Deborah Conquest. The case of this lady them great diversion. There is an honest Irish is something particular. She is the relict of Sir gentleman, it seems, who knows nothing of this Sampson Conquest, some time justice of the quo-society, but at dinerent times has made love to the rum. Sr Sampson was seven foot high, and two whole club. foot in breadth from the tip of one shoulder to the other. He had married three wives, who all of them died in childbed. This terrified the whole sex, who noue of them durst venture on Sir Samp800. At length Mrs. Deborah undertook him, and gave so good an account of him, that in three years Time she very fairly laid him out, and measured his length upon the ground. This exploit has gained her so great a reputation in the club, that they have added Sir Sampson's three victories to, hers, and give her the merit of a fourth widowhood; and she takes her place accordingly.

8. The widow Wildfire, relict of Mr. John Wildfire, fox hunter, who broke his neck over a six-bar gate. She took his death so much to heart, that it was thought it would have put an end to her life, had she not diverted her sorrows by receiving the addresses of a gentleman in the neighbourhood, who made love to her in the second month of her widowhood. This gentleman was discarded in a fortnight for the sake of a young Templar, who had the possession of her for six weeks after, till he was beaten out by a broken officer, who likewise gave up his place to a gentleman at court. The courtier was as short-lived a favourite as his predecessors, but had the pleasure to see himself acceeded by a log series of lovers, who followed he widow Wildfire to the 37th year of her age, at which time there ensued a cessation of ten years, when John Felt, haberdasher, took it in his head o be in love with her, and it is thought will very uddenly carry her off.

9. The last is pretty Mrs. Runnet, who broke er first husband's heart before she was sixteen, at which time she was entered of the club, but soon fter left it upon account of a second, whom she nade so quick a dispatch of, that she returned to er seat in less than a twelvemonth. This young atron is looked upon as the most rising member f the society, and will probably be in the presi ent's chair before she dies.

These ladies, upon their first institution, resolved o give the pictures of their deceased husbands to he club-room; but two of them bringing in their ead at full length, they covered all the walls. pon which they came to a second resolution, that ver, matron should give her own picture, and set round with her husbands' in miniature.

As they have most of them the misfortune to e troub.ed with the culic, they have a noble cel

Their conversation often turns upon their former husbands, and it is very diverting to hear them relate their several arts and stratagems with which they amused the jealous, pacified the choleric, or wheedled the good-natured man, till at last, to use the club phrase, "they sent him out of the house with his heels foremost."

6

The politics which are most cultivated by this society of She-Machiavels, relate chiefly to these two points, how to treat a lover, and how to manage a husband. As for the first set of artifices, they are too numerous to come within the compass of your paper, and shall therefore be reserved for a second letter.

"The management of a husband is built upon the following doctrines, which are universally assented to by the whole club. Not to give him his head at first. Not to allow him too great freedoms and familiarities. Not to be treated by him like a raw girl, but as a woman that knows the world. Not to lessen any thing of her former figure. To celebrate the generosity, or any other virtue, of a deceased husband, which she would recommend to his successor. To turn away all his old friends and servants, that she may have the dear man to herself. To make him disinherit the undutiful children of any former wife. Never to be thoroughly convinced of his affection, until he has made over to her all his goods and chatteis.

After so long a letter, I am, without more ce remony, "Your humble servant, &c.'

ADDISON.

N° 562. FRIDAY, JULY 2, 1714.

Præsens, absens ut sies.

TER. Eun. act. i. sc. 2.

Be present as if absent.

'It is a hard and nice subject for a man to write of himself,' says Cowley; it grates his own heart to say any thing of disparagement, and the reader's ears to hear any thing of praise from him.' Let the tenour of his discourse be what it will upon this subject, it generally proceeds from vanity,

*Cowley's Works, Essay xi. vol. ii. p. 780, Svo, edit. 1710.

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