Let us now, says I, enter upon the second stanza. I find the first line is still a continuation of the metaphor. I fancy, when your song you sing, It is very right, says he; but pray observe the turn of words in those two lines. I was a whole hour in adjusting of them, and have still a doubt upon me, whether in the second line it should be “Your song 26 you sing; or, "You sing your song?" You shall hear them both : I fancy, when your song you sing, OR, I fancy, when your song you sing, Truly, said I, the turn is so natural either way, that you have made me almost giddy with it. Dear Sir, said he, grasping me by the hand, you have a great deal of patience; but pray what do you think of the next verse? Your pen was pluck'd from Cupid's wing, Think! says I, I think you have made Cupid look like a little goose. That was my meaning, says he: I think the ridicule is well enough hit off. But we now come to the last, which sums up the whole mat ter. For, Ah! it wounds me like his dart. Pray how do you like that Ah! Doth it not make a pretty figure in that place? Ah! It looks as if I felt the dart, and cried out at being pricked with it. For, Ah! it wounds me like his dart. My friend Dick Easy, continued he, assured me, he would rather have written that Ah! than to have been the author of the Æneid. He indeed objected, that I made Mira's pen like a quill in one of the lines, and like a dart in the other. But as to that......Oh! as to that, says I, it is but supposing Cupid to be like a porcupine and his quills and darts will be the same thing. He was going to embrace me for the hint; but half a dozen critics coming into the room, whose faces he did not like, he conveyed the sonnet into his pocket, and whispered me in the ear, he would shew it me again as soon as his man had written it over fair. No. CLXIV. THURSDAY, APRIL 27. Qui sibi promittit cives, urbem, sibi curæ HOR. From my own Apartment, April 26. I HAVE lately been looking over the many packets of letters, which I have received from all quarters of Great Britain, as well as from foreign countries, since my entering upon the office of censor, and indeed am very much surprised to see so great a number of them, and pleased to think that I have so far increased the revenue of the Post-office. As this collection will grow daily, I have digested it into several bundles, and made proper indorsements on each particular letter, it being my design, when I lay down the work that I am now engaged in, to erect a paperoffice, and give it to the public. I could not but make several observations upon reading over the letters of my correspondents: as first of all on the different tastes that reign in the different parts of this city. I find, by the approbations which are given me, that I am seldom famous on the same days on both sides of Temple-bar; and that when I am in the greatest repute within the liberties, I dwindle at the court-end of the town. Sometimes I sink in both these places at the same time; but for my comfort, my name hath then been up in the districts of Wapping and Rotherhithe. Some of my correspondents desire me to be always serious, and others to be always merry. Some of them entreat me to go to bed and fall into a dream, and like me better when I am asleep than when I am awake: others advise me to sit all night upon the stars, and be more frequent in my astrological observations; for that a vision is not properly a lucubration. Some of my readers thank me for filling my paper with the flowers of antiquity, others desire news from Flanders. Some approve my criticisms on the dead, and others, my censures on the living. For this reason, I once resolved in the new edition of my works, to range my different papers under distinct heads, according as their principal design was to benefit and instruct the different capacities of my readers; and to follow the example of some very great authors, by writing at the head of each discourse, "Ad Aulam, Ad Academiam, Ad Populum, "Ad Clerum." There is no particular in which my correspondents. of all ages, conditions, sexes and complexions universally agree, except only in their thirst after scandal. It is impossible to conceive how many have recommended their neighbours to me upon this account, or how unmercifully I have been abused by several unknown hands, for not publishing the secret histories of cuckoldom that I have received from almost every street in town. It would indeed be very dangerous for me to read over the many praises and eulogiums which come post to me from all the corners of the nation, were they not mixed with many checks, reprimands, scurrilities and reproaches, which several of my good-natured country-men cannot forbear sending me, though it often costs them twopence or a groat before they can convey them to my hands: so that sometimes when I am put into the best humour in the world, after having read a panegyric upon my performances, and looked upon myself as a benefactor to the British nation, the next letter, perhaps, I open, begins with," You old "doting scoundrel!........ Are not you a sad dog?........ "Sirrah, you deserve to have your nose slit;" and the like ingenious conceits. These little mortifications are necessary to suppress that pride and vanity which naturally arise in the mind of a received author, and enable me to bear the reputation which my courteous readers bestow upon me without becoming a coxcomb by it. It was for the same reason, that when a Roman general entered the city in the pomp of a triumph, the commonwealth allowed of several little drawbacks to his reputation, by conniving at such of the rabble as repeated libels and lampoons upon him within his hearing, and by that means engaged his thoughts upon his weakness and imperfections, as well as on the merits that advanced him to so great honours. The conqueror, however, was not the less esteemed for being a man in some particulars, because he appeared as a god in others. There is another circumstance in which my countrymen have dealt very perversely with me; and that is, in searching not only into my own life, but also into the lives of my ancestors. If there has been a blot in my family for these ten generations, it hath been discovered by some or other of my correspondents. In short, I find the ancient family of the Bickerstaffs has suffered very much through the malice and prejudice of my enemies. Some of them twit me in the teeth with the conduct of my aunt Margery: nay, there are some who have been so disingenuous, as to throw Maud the milk-maid into my dish, notwithstanding I myself was the first who discovered that alliance. I reap, however, many benefits from the malice of these enemies, as they let me see my own faults, and give me a view of myself in the worst light; as they hinder me from being blown up by flattery and self-conceit; as they make me keep a watchful eye over my own actions, and at the same time make me cautious how I talk of others, and particularly of my friends and relations, or value myself upon the antiquity of my family. But the most formidable part of my correspondents are those whose letters are filled with threats and menaces. I have been treated so often after this manner, that not thinking it sufficient to fence well, in which |