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shall in a little time put an effectual stop to that growing evil. As for the article of building, I intend hereafter to enlarge upon it, having lately observed several warehouses, nay, private shops, that stand upon Corinthian pillars, and whole rows of tin pots shewing themselves, in order to their sale, through a sash window.

I have likewise followed the example of the Roman censors, in punishing offences according to the quality of the offender. It was usual for them to expel a senator who had been guilty of great immoralities out of the senate-house, by omitting his name when they called over a list of his brethren: In the same manner, to remove effectually several worthless men who stand possessed of great honours, I have made frequent draughts of dead men out of the vicious part of the nobility, and given them up to the new society of upholders, with the necessary orders for their interment. As the Roman censors used to punish the knights or gentlemen of Rome, by taking away their horses from them, I have seized the canes of many criminals of figure, whom I had just reason to animadvert upon. As for the offenders among the common people of Rome, they were generally chastised, by being thrown out of a higher tribe, and placed in one which was not so honourable. My reader cannot but think I have had an eye to this punishment, when I have degraded one species of men intobombs, squibs, and crackers, and another into drums, bass-viols, and bag-pipes ; not to mention whole packs of delinquents whom I have shut up in kennels, and the new hospital which I am at present erecting, for the reception of those of my countrymen who give me but little hopes of their amendment, on the borders of Moorfields. I shall only observe upon this last particular, that since some late surveys I have taken of this isiand, I shall think it necessary to enlarge the plan of the buildings, which I design in this quarter.

When my great predecessor, Cato the Elder, stood for the censorship of Rome, there were several other competitors who offered themselves; and to get an interest amongst the people, gave them great promises of the mild and gentle treatment, which they would use towards them in that office. Cato on the contrary told them, he presented himself as a candidate, because he knew the age was sunk in immorality and corruption; and that if they would give him their votes, he would promise them to make use of such a strictness and severity of discipline as should recover them out of it. The Roman historians, upon this occasion, very much celebrated the public spiritedness of that people, who chose Cato for their censor, notwithstanding his method of recommending himself. I may in some measure extol my own countrymen upon the same account, who, without any respect to party, or any application for myself, have made such generous subscriptions for the Censor of Great Britain, as will give a magnificence to my old age, and which I esteem more than I would any post in Europe, of an hundred times the value. I shall only add, that upon looking into my catalogue of subscribers, which I intend to print alphabetically in the front of my lucubrations, I

I find the names of the greatest beauties and wits in the whole island of Great Britain, which I only mention for the benefit of any of them who have not yet subscribed, it being my design to close the subscription in a very short time.

No. CLXIII. TUESDAY, APRIL 25.

Idem inficeto est inficetior rure,
Simul poemata attigit, neque idem unquam
Aeque est beatus, ac poema cum scribit :
Tam gaudet in se, tamque se ipse miratur.
Nimirum idem omnes fallimur; neque est quisquam
Quem non in aliqua re videre Suffenum
Possis.....

CATUL DE SUFFENO.

Will's Coffee-house, April 24. I YESTERDAY came hither about two hours before the company generally make their appearance, with a design to read over all the newspapers ; but upon my sitting down, I was accosted by Ned Softly, who saw me from a corner in the other end of the room, where I found he had been writing something. Mr. Bickerstaff, says he, I observe by a late paper of yours, that you and I are just of a humour; for you must know, of all impertinencies, there is nothing which I so much hate as news. I never read a Gazette in my life : and never trouble my head about our armies, whether they win or lose, or in what part of the world they lie encamped. Without giving me time to reply, he drew a paper of verses out of his pocket, telling me, that he had something which would entertain me more agreeably, and that he would desire my judgment upon every line, for that we had time enough before us till the company came in.

Ned Softly is a very pretty poet, and a great admirer of easy lines. Waller is his favourite ; and as that

; admirable writer has the best and worst verses of any among our English poets, Ned Softly has got all the bad ones without book, which he repeats upon occasion, to shew his reading, and garnish his conversation. Ned is indeed a true English reader, incapable of relishing the great and masterly strokes of this art; but wonderfully pleased with the little Gothic orna. ments of epigrammatical conceits, turns, points, and quibbles, which are so frequent in the most admired of our English poets, and practised by those who want genius and strength to represent, after the manner of the ancients, simplicity in its natural beauty and perfection.

Finding myself unavoidably engaged in such a conversation, I was resolved to turn my pain into a pleasure, and to divert myself as well as I could with so very odd a fellow. You must understand, says Ned, that the sonnet I am going to read to you was written upon a lady, who shewed us some verses of her own making, and is, perhaps, the best poet of our age. But you shall hear it. Upon which he began to read as follows:

To Mira, on her incomparable Poems.

I.
WHEN dress'd in laurel wreaths you shine,

And tune your soft melodious notes,
You seem a sister of the nine,

Or Phæbus' self in petticoats.

II.
I fancy, when your song you sing,

(Your song you sing with so much art)
Your pen was pluck'd from Cupid's wing ;

For, ah ! it wounds me like his dart.

Why, says I, this is a little nosegay of conceits, a very lump of salt : every verse hath something in it that piques; and then the dart in the last line is certainly as pretty a sting in the tail of an epigram (for so I think you critics call it) as ever entered into the thought of a poet. Dear Mr. Bickerstaff, says he, shaking me by the hand, every body knows you to be a judge of these things ; and to tell you truly, I read

over Roscommon's translation of Horace's Art of Poetry three several times, before I sat down to write the sonnet which I have shewn you. But you shall hear it again, and pray observed every line of it; for not one of them shall pass without your approbation.

When dress'd in laurel wreaths you shine,

That is, says he, when you have your garland on; when you are writing verses. To which I replied, I know your meaning: a metaphor! The same, said he, and went on.

And tune your soft melodious notes,

Pray observe the gliding of that verse ; there is scarce a consonant in it: I took care to make it run upon liquids. Give me your opinion of it. Truly, said I, I think it is as good as the former. I am very glad to hear you say so, says he; but mind the next.

You seem a sister of the nine,

That is, says he, you seem a sister of the muses; fer if you look into ancient authors, you will find it was their opinion, that there were nine of them. I remember it very well, said I; but pray proceed.

Or Phoebus' self in petticoats.

Phebus, says he, was the god of poetry. These little instances, Mr. Bickerstaff, shew a gentleman's reading. Then to take off from the air of learning, which Phæbus, and the Muses have given to this first stanza, you may observe, how it falls all of a sudden into the familiar; “in petticoats !"

Or Phoebus' self in petticoats.

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