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and was seated near the temple, in a delicious bower, made up of several trees, that were embraced by woodbines, jessamines, and amaranths, which were as so many emblems of marriage, and ornaments to the trunks that supported them. As I was single and unaccompanied, I was not permitted to enter the temple, and for that reason am a stranger to all the mysteries that were performed in it. I had, however, the curiosity to observe how the several couples that entered were disposed of; which was after the following manner. There were two great gates on the back-side of the edifice, at which the whole crowd was let out. At one of these gates were two women, extremely beautiful, though in a different kind, the one having a very careful and composed air, the other a sort of smile and ineffable sweetness in her countenance. The name of the first was Discretion, and of the other Complacency. All who came out of this gate, and put themselves under the direction of these two sisters, were immediately conducted by them into gardens, groves, and meadows, which abounded in delights, and were furnished with everything that could make them the proper seats of happiness. The second gate of this temple let out all the couples that were unhappily married, who came out linked together by chains, which each of them strove to break, but could not. Several of these were such as had never been acquainted with each other, before they met in the great walk, or had been too well acquainted in the thicket. The entrance of this gate was possessed by three sisters, who joined themselves with these wretches, and occasioned most of their miseries. The youngest of the sisters was known by the name of Levity, who, with the innocence of a virgin, had the dress and behaviour of a harlot. The name of the second was Contention, who bore on her right arm a muff made of the skin of a porcupine; and on her left carried a little lap-dog, that barked and snapped at every one that passed by her.
The eldest of the sisters, who seemed to have a haughty and imperious air, was always accompanied with a tawny Cupid, who generally marched before her with a little mace on his shoulder, the end of which was fashioned into the horns of a stag. Her garments were yellow, and her complexion pale. Her eyes were piercing, but had odd casts in them, and that particular distemper, which makes persons
who are troubled with it, see objects double. Upon inquiry, I was informed that her name was Jealousy.
Having finished my observations upon this temple, and its votaries, I repaired to that which stood on the left hand, and was called The Temple of Lust." The front of it was raised on Corinthian pillars, with all the meretricious ornaments that accompany that order; whereas that of the other was composed of the chaste and matron-like Ionic. The sides of it were adorned with several grotesque figures of goats, sparrows, heathen gods, satyrs, and monsters made up of half man half beast. The gates were unguarded, and open to all that had a mind to enter. Upon my going in, I found the windows were blinded, and let in only a kind of twilight, that served to discover a prodigious number of dark corners and apartments, into which the whole temple was divided. I was here stunned with a mixed noise of clamour and jollity; on one side of me, I heard singing and dancing; on the other, brawls and clashing of swords. In short, I was so little pleased with the place, that I was going out of it; but found I could not return by the gate where I entered, which was barred against all that were come in, with bolts of iron and locks of adamant. There was no going back from this temple through the paths of pleasure which led to it: all who passed through the ceremonies of the place, went out at an iron wicket, which was kept by a dreadful giant called Remorse, that held a scourge of scorpions in his hand, and drove them into the only outlet from that temple. This was a passage so rugged, so uneven, and choked with so many thorns and briers, that it was a melancholy spectacle to behold the pains and difficulties which both sexes suffered who walked through it. The men, though in the prime of their youth, appeared weak and enfeebled with old age: the women wrung their hands, and tore their hair; and several lost their limbs before they could extricate themselves out of the perplexities of the path in which they were engaged. The remaining part of this vision, and the adventures I met with in the two great roads of Ambition and Avarice, must be the subject of another paper.
I have this morning received the following letter from the famous Mr. Thomas Dogget.
"SIR, On Monday next will be acted for my benefit, the Comedy of Love for Love: if you will do me the honour to appear there, I will publish on the bills, that it is to be performed at the request of Isaac Bickerstaffe, Esq., and question not but it will bring me as great an audience, as ever was at the house since the Morocco ambassador was there. "I am, (with the greatest respect,)
Your most obedient,
And must humble servant,
Being naturally an encourager of wit, as well as bound to it in the quality of censor, I returned the following answer.
I am very well pleased with the choice you have made of so excellent a play, and have always looked upon you as the best of comedians; I shall, therefore, come in between the first and second act, and remain in the right-hand box over the pit till the end of the fourth, provided you take care that everything be rightly prepared for my reception."
No. 121. TUESDAY, JANUARY 17, 1709.
-Similis tibi, Cynthia, vel tibi cujus
From my own Apartment, January 16.
I WAS recollecting the remainder of my vision, when my maid came to me and told me, there was a gentlewoman below who seemed to be in great trouble, and pressed very much to see me. When it lay in my power to remove the distress of an unhappy person, I thought I should very ill employ my time in attending matters of speculation, and therefore desired the lady would walk in. When she entered I saw her eyes full of tears: however her grief was not so great as to make her omit rules; for she was very long and exact in her civilities, which gave me time to view and consider her. Her clothes were very rich, but tarnished; and her words very fine, but ill applied. These distinctions made
me without hesitation (though I had never seen her before) ask her, "If her lady had any commands for me?" She then began to weep afresh, and with "That broken sighs told me, many their family was in very great affliction"-I beseeched her to compose herself, for that I might possibly be capable of assisting them. She then cast her eye upon my little dog, and was again transported with too much passion to proceed; but with much ado, she at last gave me to understand, that Cupid, her lady's lap-dog, was dangerously ill, and in so bad a condition, that her lady neither saw company, nor went abroad, for which reason she did not come herself to consult me; that as I had mentioned with great affection my own dog, (here she curtsied, and looking first at the cur, and then on me, said, “Indeed I had reason, for he was very pretty,") her lady sent to me rather than to any other doctor, and hoped I would not laugh at her sorrow, but send her my advice. I must confess, I had some indignation to find myself treated like something below a farrier; yet well knowing that the best as well as most tender way of dealing with a woman, is to fall in with her humours, and by that means to let her see the absurdity of them, I proceeded accordingly: "Pray, madam, (said I,) can you give me any methodical account of this illness, and how Cupid was first taken ?" "Sir, (said she,) we have a little ignorant country girl, who is kept to tend him: she was recommended to our family by one, that my lady never saw but once, at a visit; and you know persons of quality are always inclined to strangers; for I could have helped her to a cousin of my own, but ""Good madam, (said I,) you neglect the account of the sick body, while you are complaining of this girl." "No, no, sir, (said she,) begging your pardon: but it is the general fault of physicians, they are so in haste, that they never hear out the case. I say, this silly girl, after washing Cupid, let him stand half an hour in the window without his collar, where he catched cold, and in an hour after began to bark very hoarse. He had, however, a pretty good night, and we hoped the danger was over; but for these two nights past neither he nor my lady have slept a wink." "Has he (said I) taken anything?" "No, (said she,) but my lady says, he shall take anything that you prescribe, provided you do not make use of Jesuits' powder, or the cold bath. Poor Cupid (continued she) has always been pthi1 The sick body.] The humour of this expression is inimitable.
sical, and as he lies under something like a chin cough, we are afraid it will end in a consumption." I then asked her, "If she had brought any of his water to show me?" Upon this, she stared me in the face, and said, "I am afraid, Mr. Bickerstaffe, you are not serious; but if you have any receipt that is proper on this occasion, pray let us have it, for my mistress is not to be comforted." Upon this, I paused a little without returning any answer; and after some short silence, I proceeded in the following manner : 2 "I have considered the nature of the distemper, and the constitution of the patient, and by the best observation that I can make on both, I think it safest to put him into a course of kitchen physic. [In the mean time, to remove his hoarseness, it will be the most natural way to make Cupid his own druggist; for which reason, I shall prescribe to him, three mornings successively, as much powder as will lie on a groat, of that noble remedy which the apothecaries call album Græcum." Upon hearing this advice, the young woman smiled,3 as if she knew how ridiculous an errand she had been employed in; and indeed I found by the sequel of her discourse, that she was an arch baggage, and of a character that is frequent enough in persons of her employment, who are so used to conform themselves in everything to the humours and passions of their mistresses, that they sacrifice superiority of sense to superiority of condition, and are insensibly betrayed into the passions and prejudices of those whom they serve, without giving themselves leave to consider that they are extravagant and ridiculous. However, I thought it very natural, when her eyes were thus open, to see her give a new turn to her discourse, and from sympathizing with her mistress in her follies, to fall a railing at her. "You cannot imagine, (said she,) Mr. Bickerstaffe, what a life she makes us lead for the sake of this ugly cur: if he dies, we are the
This was put in to prepare the way for the change of character.— See the next page.
2 Proceeded in the following manner.] I suppose, in Mr. Addison's original draught, it stood thus-"I dismissed her with the following prescription."
3 This change of character in the Abigail, is so foreign to the design of the paper, is so languidly expressed, and carried on in a vein of humour so unlike Mr. Addison's, that I think it should be given to his coadjutor. What I mean is, so much of this page as is contained within the crotchets, from "In the mean," &c. to "forced her out."