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OME months ago, my friend Sir with such a mixt kind of furniture, as

Roger, being in the country, in seemed very suitable both to the lady clofed a letter tò mne, directed to a cer and the scholar, and did not know ac tain lady whom I shall here call by the first whether I should fancy myself in a Dame of Leonora, and, as it contained grotto, or in a library. matters of consequence; desired me to Upon my looking into the books, I deliver it to her with my own hand. found there were some few which the

Accordingly I waited upon her ladyship lady had bought tor her own use, but ! pretty early in the morning, and was that nost of them had been got together,

defired by her woman to walk into her either because she had heard them praislady's library, till such time as she was ed, or because she had seen the authors in a readiness to receive me. The very of them. Among several that I exa. sound of a lady's library gave me a great mined, I very well rembember these curiofity to see it; and as it was some that follow: time before the lady came to me, I had an opportunity of turning over a great Ogilby's Virgil. many of her books, which were ranged Dryden's Juvenal, together in a very beautiful order. At Cassandra. the end of the folios, which were finely Cleopatra. bound and gilt, were great jars of china Altræa. placed one above another in a very noble Sir Isaac Newton's Works. piece of architecture.

The quartos

The Grand Cyrus; with a pin fuck were feparated from the octavos by a in one of the middle leaves. pile of smaller vefsels, which rose in a Pembroke's Arcadia. delightful pyramid. The octavos were Lockeof Human Underitanding; with bounded by tea-dishes of all shapes, co a paper of patches in it. lours, and fizes, which were so disposed A Spelling Book, on a wooden frame, that they looked A Dictionary for the Explanation of like one continued pillar indented with Hard Words. the finest strokes of sculpture, and stain Sherlock upon Death. ed with the greatest variety of dyes. The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony, That part of the library which was de Sir William Temple's Essays. signed for the reception of plays and Father Malebranche's Search after pamphlets, and other loose papers, was Truth, translated into English. inclosed in a kind of square, conifting A Book of Novels. of one of the prettiest grotesque works The Academy of Compliments. that ever I faw, and made up of scara Culpepper's Midwifery. mouches, lions, monkies, mandarines, The Ladies Calling. trees, shells, and a thousand other odd Tales in Verse, by Mr. Duley: figures in China-ware. In the midst of bound in red leather, gilt on the back, the room was a little Japan-table, with and doubled down in feveral places. a quire of gilt paper upon it, and on the All the Classic Authors in wood. paper a filver snuff-box made in the A set of Elzevirs by the same hand. shape of a little book. I found there Clelia: which opened of itself in the were several other counterfeit books upon place that defcribes two lovers in a the upper shelves, which were carved in bower. wood, and served only to fill up the Baker's Chronicle. number like faggots in the muster of a Advice to a Daughter. regiment. I was wonderfully pleased The New Atalantis, with a Key to it.




Mr. Steele's Christian Hero.

artificial grottos covered with wool. A Prayer Book; with a bottle of bines and jessamines. The woods are Hungary water by the fide of it. cut into shady walks, twisted into bowDie Sacheverell's Speech.

ers, and filled with cages of turtles. Fielding's Trial.

The springs are made to run among Seneca's Morals.

pebbles, and by that means taught to Taylor's Holy Living and Dying. murmur very agreeably. They are

La Ferte's Instructions for Country likewile collected into a beautiful lake, Dances.

that is inhabited by a couple of fwans,

and empties itself by a little rivulet I was taking a catalogue in my pocket which runs through a green meadow, book of these, and several other authors, and is known in the family by the name when Leonora entered, and upon my of The Purling Stream. The knight presenting her with the letter from the likewise tells me, that this lady preferves Knight, told me, with an unspeakable her game better than any of the gentlegrace, that the hoped Sir Roger was in men in the country; Not,' says Sir good health: I answered, Yes, for I Roger, that the lets so great a value. hate long speeches, and after a bow or upon her partridges and pheasants, as two retired.

upon her larks and nightingales. For Leonora was formerly a celebrated • the fays that every bird which is killed beauty, and is still a very lovely wo • in her ground, will spoil a concert,

She has been a widow for two • and that the fall certainly miss him or three vears, and, being unfortunate

the next year.' in her firit marriage, has taken a reso When I think how oddly this lady is Jution never to venture upon a second. improved by learning, I look upon her She has no children to take care of, and with a mixture of adıniration and pity. leaves the management of her estate !o Amidst these innocent entertainments my rood friend Sir Roger. But as the which she has formed to herself, how mind naturally sinks into a kind of le much more valuable does she appear thargy, and falls alleep, that is not agi. than those of her sex, who employ themtated by some favourite pleasures and felves in diversions that are less reasonpursuits, Leonora has turned all the pal able, though more in fashion? What fions of her fex into a love of books and improvements would a woman have retirement. She converses chiefly with inade, who is so susceptible of imprefmien, as she has often faid her tilf, but fions from what the reads, had the been it is only in their writings; and adnits guided to such books as have a tendency of very few male vilitants, except my to enlighten the understanding and recfriend Sir Roger, whom the hears with tify the passions, as well as to those great pleasure, and without scandal. As which are of little more use than to diher reading has lain very


among vert the imagination? 1 romances, it has given her a very par But the inanner of a lady's employing

ticular turn of thinking, and discover's hertelf utefully in reading shall be the itself even in her house, her gardens, lubject or another paper, in which I deand her furniture. Sir Roger has en sign to recommend such particular books tertained me an hour together with a de. as may be proper for the improvement scription of her country-leat, which is of the lex. And as this is a subiect of fituareil in a kind of wilderness, about a very nice nature, I Mall desire my an hundred miles distant from London, correspondents to give me their ghoughts and looks like a little inchanted palace.

c The rocks about her are shaped into

upon it.


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an interruption in every second thought, gave me an opportunity of ob. when the consciousness is employed in ferving a great deal of beauty in a very too fondly approving a man's own conhandsome woman, and as much wit in ceptions: which fort of consciousness is an ingenious man, turned into' defor what we call affectation. mity in the one, and absurdity in the As the love of praise is implanted in other, by the mere force of affectation. our botoms as'a trong incentive to worThe fair-one had something in her per- thy actions, it is a very difficult talk to sen

upon which her thoughts were fixed, get above a desire of it for things that that the attempted to thew to advantage Tould be wholly indifferent. Women, in every look, word, and gelture. The whose hearts are fixed upon the pleasure gentleman was as diligent to do justice they have in the consciousness that they to his fine parts, as the latly to her beau are the objects of love and admiration, teous form: you might see his imagina are ever changing the air of their countion on the stretch to find out something tenances, and altering the attitude of uncommon, and what they call bright, to their bodies, to strike the hearts of the entertain her; while the writhed herself beholders with new tense of their beauty. into as many different postures to engage The dresling part of our fex, whose him. When the laughed, her lips were minds are the fame with the filiier part of to lever at a greater distance than ordi- the other, are exactly in the liko uneasy nary, to hew her teeth; her fan was to condition to be regarded for a well-tied point to somewhat at a distance, that in cravat, an hat cocked with an unusual ihe reach the may discover the round briskness, a very well chofen coat, or ness of her arm; then she is utterly mis- other instances of merit, which they are taken in what the law, falls back, smiles impatient to see unobserved. at her own folly, and is so wholly dif. But this apparent affe&tation, arising composed, that her tucker is to be ad. from an ill-governed consciousness, is justed, her bosom exposed, and the whole not fo much to be wondered at in fuch woman put into new rits and graces. loose and trivial minds as theie; but While she was doing all this, the gal. when you see it reign in characters of lant had time to think of something very worth and distinction, it is what you pleasant to say to her, or make some cannot but lament, not without fome unkind observation on some other lady indignation. It creeps into the heart of to feed her vanity. These unhappy ef. the wife man as well as that of the coxfects of affectation, naturally led me to comb. When you see a man of lense look into that strange state of mind which look about for applause, and discover lo generally difcolours the behaviour of an itching inclination to be commendmolt people we meet with.

ed; lays traps for a little incente, even The learned Dr. Burnet, in his Theory from those whole opinion he values in of the Earth, takes occasion to observe, nothing but his own favour; who is that every thought is attended with con safe against this weakness? or who sciousness and representativeness; the knows whether he is guilty of it or not? mind has nothing presented to it but The best way to get clear of such a light what is immediately followed by a re fordness for applau.c, is to take all porflection or conscience, which tells you lible care to throw off the love of it upon whether that which was so presente is occasions that are not in themselves graceful or unbecoming. This act of laudable, but as it appears, we hope for the mind discovers itself in the gesture, no praise from them. Of this nature by a proper behaviour in those whose are all graces in men's persons, dress, consciousness goes no further than to and bodily deportment; which will na. direct them in the just progress of their turally be winning attractive if we think present thought or action; but betrays not of them, but lose their force in pro



portion to our endeavour to make them pomp of eloquence in his power, he luch.

never spoke a word too much. When our consciousness' turns upon It might be borne even here, but it the main design of life, and our thoughts often afcends the pulpit itself: and the are employed upon the chief purpote declaimer, in that facred place, is freeither in bulinets or pleasure, we mall quently so impertinently witty, speaks never betray an affectation, for we can. of the lasi day itself with so many not be guilty of it; but when we give qurint phrases, that there is no man who the paflion for praise an unbridled li- understands raillery, but must resolve to berty, our pleasure in little perfections fin no more: nay, you may behold him robs us of what is due to us for great fometimes in prayer, for a proper de. virtues and worthy qualities. How livery of the great truths he is to utter, many excellent speeches and honest ac humble himself with so very well-turned tions are loft, for want of being indif. a phrase, and mention his own unworferent where we ought? Men are op.' thiness in a way so very becoming, that pressed with regard to their way of speak. the air of the pretty gentleman is preing and acting, instead of having their served, under the lowliness of the thoughts bent upon what they should preacher. do or fay; and by that means bury a I shall end this with a short letter I capacity for great things by their fear writ the other day to a witty man, overof failing in indifferent things. This, run with the fault I am speaking of. perhaps, cannot be called affectation; but it has some tincture of it, at least so

DEAR SIR, far, as that their fear of erring in a

I Spent some time with you the other thing of no consequence, argues they day, and must take the liberty of a would be too much pleased in perform- friend to tell you of the unsufferable ing it.

affectation you are guilty of in all you It is only from a thorough disregard say and do. When I gave you an hint to him: If in such particulars, that a of it, you asked me whether a man is to man can act with a laudable sufficiency; be cold to what his friends think of him? his heart is fixed upon one point in No; but praise is not to be the enterview; and he commits no errors, be- tainment of every moment; he that hopes cause he thinks nothing an error but for it must be able to suspend the porwhat deviates from that intention. session of it till proper periods of life, or

The wild havock affectation makes death itself. If you would not rather in that part of the world which should be commended than be praise-worthy, be most polite, is vitible wherever we contemn little merits; and allow no turn our eyes: it pushes men not only man to be so free with you, as to praise into impertinencies in conversation, but you to your face. Your vanity by this also in their premeditated speeches. At means will want it's food. At the the bar ir tormentts the bench, whose same time your passion for esteem will business it is to cut off all fuperfluities be more fully gratified; men will praise in what is fpoken before it by the prac. you in their actions: where you now tiricner'; as well as several little pieces receive one compliment, you will then of injustice which arise from the law it- receive twenty civilities. Till then you felf. I have seen it make a man run will never have of either, further than, from the purpose before a judge, who Sir,

Your humble servant, was, when at the bar himself, to close and logical a pleader, that with all the R




Hor. Ep. II. II. 102.



S a perfe&t tragedy is the between prose, that seems

wonderfully tragedy. I am it is capable of giving the mind one of therefore very much offended when I see the most delightful and most improving a play in rhyme; which is as absurd in entertainments. ' A virtuous man,' English, as a tragedy of Hexameters says Seneca, · struggling with misfor would have been in Greek or Latin. tunes, is such a spectacle as gods

The folecism is, I think, ftill greater might look upon with pleasure;' and in those plays that have some icenes in fuch a pleasure it is which one meets rhyme and some in blank verse, which with in the representation of a well are to be looked upon as two several written tragedy. Diversions of this languages; or where we see some parti kind wear out of our thoughts every cular fimilies dignified with rhyme, at thing that is mean and little. They the same time that every thing about cherish and cultivate that humanity which them lies in blank verse. I would not is the ornament of our nature. They however debar the poet from concluding soften insolence, foothe affli&tion, and his tragedy, or, if he pleases, every act fubdue the mind to the dispensations of of it, with two or three couplets, which providence.

may have the same effect as an air in the It is no wonder therefore that in all Italian opera after a long recitativo, the polite nations of the world, this part and give the actor a graceful exit. Beof the drama has met with public en sides, that we see a diversity of numbers couragement.

in some parts of the old tragedy, in orThe modern tragedy excels that of der 10 hinder the ear from being tired

Greece and Rome in the intricacy and with the same continued modulation of 1

disposition of the fable; but, what a voice. For the same reason I do not

Christian writer would be ashamed to diflike the speeches in our English tragedy I own, falls infinitely short of it in the that close with an Hemistic, or half ! moral part of the performance. verse, notwithstanding the person who

This I may few more at large here- speaks after it begins a new verse, with after; and in the mean time, that I may out filling up the preceding one: nor contribute something towards the im- with abrupt pauses and breakings-off provement of the English tragedy, I in the middle of a verse, when they hushall take notice, in this and in other mour any passion that is expressed by following papers, of some particular it. parts in it that seem liable to exception. Since I am upon this subject, I must

Aristotle observes, that the lambic observe that our English poets have suc-, verse in the Greek tongue was the most ceeded much better in the stile, than in' proper for tragedy; because at the same the sentiments of their tragedies. Their time that it lifted up the discourse from language is very often noble and fonon prole, it was that which approached rous, but the sense either very trifling nearer to it than any other kind of or very common. On the contrary, in verse. For,' says he,' we may ob- the ancient tragedies, and indeed in ' serve that men in ordinary discourse those of Corneille and Racine, tough

very often speak. Iambics, without the expressions are very great, it is the taking notice of it.' We make the thought that bears them up and swells same observation of our Englith blank them. For my own part, I prefer a verle, which often enters into our com noble sentiment that is depressed with mon discourse, though we do not at homely language, infinitely before a tend to it, and is such a due medium vylgar one that is blown up with all the


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