網頁圖片
PDF
ePub 版

1

of all the rest. But among such as deal in multitudes of words, none are comparable to the sober, deliberate talker, who proceeds with much thought and caution, makes his preface, branches out into several digressions, finds a hint that puts him in mind of another story, which he promises to tell you when this is done; comes back regularly to his subject, cannot readily call to mind some person's name, holding his head, complains of his memory; the whole company all this while in suspense; at length says, it is no matter, and so goes on. And, to crown the business, it perhaps proves at last a story the company has heard fifty times before; or, at best, some insipid adventure of the relater.

Another general fault in conversation is that of those who affect to talk of themselves. Some, without any ceremony, will run over the history of their lives; will relate the annals of their diseases, with the several symptoms and circumstances of them; will enumerate the hardships and injustice they have suffered in court, in parliament, in love, or in law. Others are more dexterous, and with great art will lie on the watch to hook in their own praise; they will call a witness to remember they always foretold' what would happen in such a case, but none would believe them; they advised such a man from the beginning, and told him the consequences just as they happened, but he would have his own way. Others make a vanity of telling their faults; they are the strangest men in the world; they cannot dissemble; they own it as a folly; they have lost abundance of advantages by it; but if you would give them the world, they cannot help it; there is something in their nature that abhors insincerity and constraint; with many other insufferable topics of the same altitude. Of such mighty importance every man is to himself, and ready to think he is so to others; without once making this easy and obvious reflection, that his affairs can have no more weight with other men than theirs have with him; and of how little that is, he is sensible enough.

Where a company has met, I often have observed two persons discover, by some accident, that they were bred together at the same school or university; after which the rest are condemned to silence, and to listen while these two are refreshing each other's memory with the arch tricks and passages of themselves and their comrades.

I know a great officer of the army who will sit for some time with a supercilious and impatient silence, full of anger and contempt for those who are talking; at length, of a sudden, demanding audience, decide the matter in a short, dogmatical way; then withdraw within himself again, and vouchsafe to talk no more, until his spirits circulate again to the same point.

There are some faults in conversation which none are so subject to as the men of wit, nor ever so much as when they are with each other. If they have opened their mouths without endeavouring to say a witty thing, they think it is so many words lost: it is a torment to the hearers, as much as to themselves, to see them upon the rack for invention, and in perpetual constraint, with so little success. They must do something extraordinary in order to acquit themselves and answer their character, else the standers-by maybe disappointed, and be apt to think them only like the rest of mortals. I have known two men of wit industriously brought together in order to entertain the company, where they have made a very ridiculous figure, and provided all the mirth at their own expense. I know a man of wit who is never easy but where he can

be allowed to dictate and preside; he neither expects to be informed or entertained, but to display his own talents. His business is to be good company, and not good conversation; and therefore he chooses to frequent those who are content to listen and profess themselves his admirers. And indeed the worst conversation I ever remember to have heard in my life was that at Will's coffee-house, where the wits (as they were called) used formerly to assemble: that is to say, five or six men who had writ plays, or at least prologues, or had share in a miscellany, came thither, and entertained one another with their trifling compositions, in so important an air as if they had been the noblest efforts of human nature, or that the fate of kingdoms depended on them; and they were usually attended with a humble audience of young students from the inns of court or the universities; who, at due distance, listened to these oracles, and returned home with great contempt for their law and philosophy, their heads filled with trash under the name of politeness, criticism, and belles lettres.

A South Sea Ballad

In London stands a famous pile,

And near that pile an Alley,
Where many crowds for riches toil,

And wisdom stoops to folly.
Here sad and joyful, high and low,

Court Fortune for her graces,
And as she smiles or frowns, they show
Their gestures and grimaces.

Here stars and garters do appear,

Among our lords the rabble; To buy and sell, to see and hear

The Jews and Gentiles squabble. Here crafty courtiers are too wise

For those who trust to Fortune; They see the cheat with clearer eyes,

Who peep behind the curtain.

Our greatest ladies hither come,

And ply in chariots daily; Oft pawn

their jewels for a sum To venture in the Alley. Young wenches, too, from Drury Lane,

Approach the 'Change in coaches, To fool away the gold they gain

By their obscene debauches.

Long heads may thrive by sober rules,

Because they think, and drink not, But headlongs are our thriving fools,

Who only drink, and think not.
The lucky rogues, like spaniel dogs,

Leap into South Sea water,
And there they fish for golden frogs,

Not caring what comes arter.

'Tis said that alchemists of old

Could turn a brazen kettle, Or leaden cistern, into gold,

That noble, tempting metal: But if it here may be allowed To bring in great and small things,

Our cunning South Sea, like a god,

Turns nothing into all things.

Oh, Britain ! bless thy present state,

Thou only happy nation,
So oddly rich, so madly great,

Since bubbles came in fashion.
Successful rakes exert their pride,

And count their airy millions, While homely drabs in coaches ride,

Brought up to town on pillions.

Few men who follow reason's rules

Grow fat with South Sea diet;
Young rattles and unthinking fools

Are those who flourish by it.
Old musty jades, and pushing blades,

Who've least consideration,
Grow rich apace; while wiser heads

Are struck with admiration.

A race of men who, t'other day,

Lay crush'd beneath disasters,
Are now by stock brought into play,

And made our lords and masters.
But should our South Sea Babel fall,

What numbers would be frowning! The losers then must ease their gall

By hanging or by drowning.

Five hundred millions, notes and bonds, Our stocks are worth in value;

« 上一頁繼續 »