• Pr'ythee my Dear be calm; when I chide one of my Servants Pr'ythee Child do not blufter. He had the Impu⚫dence about an Hour ago to tell me, That he was a Sea⚫ faring Man, and must expect to divide his Life between • Storm and Sunshine. When I beftir my felf with any

Spirit in my Family, it is high Sea in his Houfe; and ⚫ when I fit ftill without doing any thing, his Affairs for⚫footh are Wind-bound. When I ask him whether it rains, • he makes Answer, It is no Matter, fo that it be fair Weather within Doors. In fhort, Sir, I cannot speak my Mind freely to him, but I either fwell or rage, or ⚫ do something that is not fit for a civil Woman to hear. Pray, Mr. SPECTATOR, fince you are fo fharp upon other Women, let us know what Materials your Wife is made of, if you have one. I fuppofe you would make us a Parcel of poor-fpirited tame infipid Creatures; but, Sir, I would have you to know, we have as good Paffions in us as your felf, and that a Woman. was never defigned to be a Milk-Sop...

L

MARTHA TEMPEST.

No. 212. Friday, November 2.

Colla jugo, liber, liber fum, dic age-- Hor.Sat.7.1.2.v.92.

Eripe turpi

-Loofe thy Neck from this ignoble Chain,

And boldly fay thou'rt free.

Mr. SPECTATOR,

I

CREECH.

Never look upon my dear Wife, but I think of the Happiness Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY enjoys, in ⚫ having fuch a Friend as you to expofe in proper Colours the Cruelty and Perverseness of his Mistress. I have very often wished you vifited in our Family, and were acquainted with my Spoufe; fhe would afford you for fome Months at leaft Matter enough for one • Spectator a Week. Since we are not so happy as to be of your Acquaintance, give me leave to represent to you our present Circumftances as well as I can in Writing..

You

to.

• You are to know then that I am not of a very different • Conftitution from Nathaniel Henrooft, whom you have lately recorded in your Speculations; and have a Wife who makes a more tyrannical Ufe of the Knowledge of my eafy Temper than that Lady ever pretended We had not been a Month married, when the 'found in me a certain Pain to give Offence, and an In⚫dolence that made me bear little Inconveniences rather ⚫ than dispute about them. From this Observation it foon came to that pafs, that if I offered to go abroad, fhe • would get between me and the Door, kifs me, and say she could not part with me; and then down again I 'fat. In a Day or two after this firft pleasant step to⚫wards confining me, fhe declared to me, that I was all the World to her, and she thought the ought to be all the World to me. If, faid fhe my Dear loves me as ⚫ much as I love him, he will never be tired of my Com· pany. This Declaration was followed by my being ⚫ denied to all my Acquaintance; and it very foon came to that pass, that to give an Answer at the Door before my Face, the Servants would ask her whether I was ⚫ within or not; and fhe would Answer No with great fondness, and tell me I was a good Dear. I will not enumerate more little Circumftances to give you a • livelier sense of my Condition; but tell you in general, ' that from fuch Steps as these at first, I now live the 'Life of a Prisoner of State; my Letters are opened, ⚫ and I have not the Ufe of Pen, Ink and Paper, but in her Presence. I never go abroad, except fhe fometimes 'takes me with her in her Coach to take the Air, if it may be called fo, when we drive, as we generally do, • with the Glaffes up. I have overheard my Servants la· ment my Condition, but they dare not bring me Meffages without her Knowledge, because they doubt my 'Refolution to ftand by 'em. In the midft of this infipid Way of Life, an old Acquaintance of mine, Tom Meggot, who is a Favourite with her, and allowed to vifit me in her Company because he fings prettily, has roufed me to rebel, and conveyed his Intelligence to me in the following Manner. My Wife is a great Pretender to Mu

fick,

No. 2.12. fick, and very ignorant of it; but far gone in the Italian Tafte. Tom goes to Armstrong, the famous fine • Writer of Mufick, and defires him to put this Sentence of Tully in the Scale of an Italian Air, and write it out ⚫ for my Spoufe from him. An ille mihi liber cui mulier imperat? Cui leges imponit, præfcribit, jubet, vetat, quod • videtur? Qui nihil imperanti negare, nihil recufare audet? Pofcit? dandum eft. Vocat? veniendum. Ejicit? abeundum. Minitatur? extimifcendum. Does he live like a Gentleman who is commanded by a Woman? He to whom she gives Law, grants and denies what she pleases? who can neither deny her any thing she asks, or refuse to do any thing he commands.

TO be short, my Wife was extremely pleased with it; faid the Italian was the only Language for Mufick; ← and admired how wonderfully tender the Sentiment ⚫ was, and how pretty the Accent is of that Language, ⚫ with the rest that is faid by Rote on that Occafion. • Mr. Meggot is fent for to fing this Air, which he per• forms with mighty Applause; and my Wife is in Ec• ftacy on the Occafion, and glad to find, by my being fo much pleased, that I was at last come into the No<tion of the Italian; for, faid fhe, it grows upon one ⚫ when one once comes to know a little of the Language; ⚫ and pray, Mr. Meggot, fing again those Notes, Nihil Imperanti negare, nihil recufare. You may believe I was not a little delighted with my Friend Tom's Expedient " to alarm me, and in Obedience to his Summons I give all this Story thus at large; and I am refolved, ⚫ when this appears in the Spectator, to declare for my ⚫ felf. The manner of the Infurrection I contrive by your • Means, which fhall be no other than that Tom Meggot, 'who is at our Tea-table every Morning, shall read it to us; and if my Dear can take the Hint, and say not one Word, but let this be the Beginning of a new Life without farther Explanation; it is very well; for as foon as the Spectator is read out, I fhall, without more ado, call ⚫ for the Coach, name the Hour when I fhall be at home, • if I come at all; if I do not, they may go to Dinner. If my Spouse only fwells and fays nothing, Tom and I ⚫ go out together, and all is well, as I faid before: but if

⚫ the

fhe begins to command or expoftulate, you fhall in my < next to you receive a full Account of her Refiftance and • Submiffion, for fubmit the dear thing muft to,

SIR,

Your moft obedient bumble Servant,

Anthony Freeman,

P. S. I hope I need not tell you that I defire this

may be in your very next.

T

No. 213. Saturday, November 3.

IT

T is the great Art and Secret of Chriftianity, if I may use that Phrase, to manage our Actions to the best Advantage, and direct them in such a Manner, that every thing we do may turn to Account at that great Day, when every thing we have done will be fet before us.

IN order to give this Confideration its full Weight, we may cast all our Actions under the Divifion of fuch as are in themselves either Good, Evil, or Indifferent. If we divide our Intentions after the fame Manner, and confider them with regard to our Actions, we may discover that great Art and Secret of Religion which I have here mentioned.

A good Intention joined to a good Action, gives it its proper Force and Efficacy; joined to an Evil Action, extenuates its Malignity, and in fome Cafes may take it wholly away; and joined to an indifferent Action turns it to a Virtue, and makes it meritorious as far as human Actions can be so.

IN the next Place, to confider in the fame manner the Influence of an Evil Intention upon our Actions. An Evil Intention perverts the best of Actions, and makes them in reality, what the Fathers with a witty kind of Zeal have termed the Virtues of the Heathen World, fo

many

many fhining Sins. It deftroys the Innocence of an indifferent Action, and gives an evil Action all poffible Blacknefs and Horror, or in the emphatical Language of Sacred Writ, makes Sin exceeding finful.

. IF, in the laft Place, we confider the Nature of an indifferent Intention, we fhall find that it deftroys the Merit of a good Action; abates, but never takes away, the Malignity of an evil Action; and leaves an indifferent Action in its natural State of Indifference.

IT is therefore of unfpeakable Advantage to poffefs our Minds with an habitual good Intention, and to aim all our Thoughts, Words and Actions, at fome laudable End, whether it be the Glory of our Maker, the Good of Mankind, or the Benefit of our own Souls.

THIS is a fort of Thrift or good Husbandry in moral Life, which does not throw away any fingle Action, but makes every one go as far as it can. It multiplies the Means of Salvation, increases the Number of our Virtues, and diminishes that of our Vices.

THERE is fomething very devout, though not solid, in Acolta's Anfwer to Limborch, who objects to him the Multiplicity of Ceremonies in the Jewish Religion, as Washings, Dreffes, Meats, Purgations, and the like. The Reply which the Jew makes upon this Occafion, is, to the best of my Remembrance, as follows: There are not Duties enough (fays he) in the effential Parts of the 'Law for a zealous and active Obedience. Time, Place, ⚫ and Perfon are requifite, before you have an Opportunity of putting a moral Virtue into Practice. We have therefore, fays he, enlarged the Sphere of our Duty, and made many Things, which are in themselves indifferent, a Part of our Religion, that we may have more Occafions of fhewing our Love to God, and in all the • Circumftances of Life be doing fomething to please him. MONSIEUR St. Evremond has endeavoured to palliate the Superftitions of the Roman-Catholick Reli gion with the fame kind of Apology, where he pretends to confider the different Spirit of the Papifts and the Calvinists, as to the great Points wherein they difagree. He tells us, that the former are actuated by Love, and the ather by Fear; and that in their Expreffions of Duty

and