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estate to be your queen and companion, far beyond sincere a heart her own to observe a thousand my desert or desire. If, then, you found me worthy things which wou.d have discovered this change of such honor, good your grace, let not any light of mind to any one less engaged than she was. fancy, or bad counsel of mine enemies, withdraw Cynthio was musing yesterday in the piazza in your princely favor from me; neither let that stain, Covent-garden, and was saying to himself that he that unworthy stain, of a disloyal heart toward was a very ill man to go on in visiting and proyour good grace, ever cast so foul a blot on your fessing love to Flavia, when his heart was enmost dutiful wife, and the infant princess your thralled to another. It is an infirmity that I am daughter. Try me, good king, but let me have a not constant to Flavia; but it would be still a lawful trial, and let not my sworn enemies sit as greater crime, since I cannot continue to love her, my accusers and judges; yea, let me receive an to profess that I do. To marry a woman with the open trial, for my truth shall fear no open shame; coldness that usually indeed comes or after marthen shall you see either mine innocency cleared, riage, is ruining one's self with one's eyes open; your suspicion and conscience satisfied, the igno- beside, it is really doing her an injury." This miny and slander of the world stopped, or my last consideration forsooth, of injuring her in perguilt openly declared. So that, whatsoever God sisting, made him resolve to break off upon the or you may determine of me, your grace may be first favorable opportunity of making her angry. freed from an open censure; and mine offense When he was in this thought. he saw Robin the being so lawfully proved, your grace is at liberty porter, who waits at Will's coffee-house, passing both before God and man, not only to execute by. Robin, you must know, is the best man in worthy punishment on me as an unlawful wife, town for carrying a billet; the fellow has a thin but to follow your affection already settled on that body, swift step, demure looks, sufficient sense, party, for whose sake I am now as I am, whose and knows the town. This man carried Cynthio's name I could some good while since have pointed first letter to Flavia, and, by frequent visits ever unto, your grace being not ignorant of my suspi- since, is well known to her. The fellow covers cion therein. his knowledge of the nature of his messages with the most exquisite low humor imaginable. The first he obliged Flavia to take, was by complaining to her that he had a wife and three children; and if she did not take that letter, which he was

But if you have already determined of me, and that not only my death, but an infamous slander, must bring you the enjoying of your desired happiness; then I desire of God, that he will pardon your great sin therein, and likewise mine ene-sure there was no harm in, but rather love, his famies, the instruments thereof; and that he will not call you to a strict account for your unprincely and cruel usage of me, at his general judgmentseat, where both you and myself must shortly appear, and in whose judgment I doubt not (whatsoever the world may think of me) mine innocence shall be openly known, and sufficiently cleared.

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My last and only request shall be, that myself may only bear the burden of your grace's displeasure, and that it may not touch the innocent souls of those poor gentlemen, who (as I understand) are likewise in strait imprisonment for my sake. If ever I have found favor in your sight, if ever the name of Ann Boleyn hath been pleasing in your ears, then let me obtain this request, and I will so leave to trouble your grace any further, with mine earnest prayers to the Trinity, to have your grace in his good keeping, and to direct you in all your actions. From my doleful prison in the Tower, this sixth of May;

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No. 398.] FRIDAY, JUNE 6, 1712. Insanire pares certa ratione modoque.

"

mily must go supperless to bed, for the gentleman
would pay him according as he did his business.
Robin, therefore, Cynthio now thought fit to make
use of, and gave him orders to wait before Flavia's
door, and if she called him to her, and asked
whether it was Cynthio who passed by, he should
at first be loth to own it was, but upon importu
nity confess it. There needed not much search
into that part of the town, to find a well dressed
hussy fit for the purpose Cynthio designed her.
As soon as he believed Robin was posted, he drove
by Flavia's lodgings in a hackney-coach and a
woman in it. Robin was at the door talking with
Flavia's maid, and Cynthio pulled up the glass as
surprised, and hid his associate. The report of
this circumstance soon flew up stairs, and Robin
could not deny but the gentleman favored his
master; yet if it was he, he was sure the lady was
but his cousin whom he had seen ask for him, ad-
ding that he believed she was a poor relation, be-
cause they made her wait one morning till he was
awake. Flavia immediatly wrote the following
epistle, which Robin brought to Will's:

"SIE,
June 4, 1712.
"It is in vain to deny it, basest, falsest of man-
kind; my maid as well as the bearer saw you.
"The injured FLAVIA."

HOR. 2 Sat. iii, 271. You'd be a fool With art and wisdom, and be mad by rule.-CREECH. After Cynthio had read the letter, he asked CYNTHIO and Flavia are persons of distinction Robin how she looked, and what she said at the in this town, who have been lovers these ten delivery of it. Robin said she spoke short to him, months last past, and wrote to each other for gal- and called him back again, and had nothing to say lantry-sake under those feigned names; Mr. Such-to him, and bid him and all the men in the world a-one and Mrs. Such-a-one not being capable of go out of her sight: but the maid followed, and raising the soul out of the ordinary tracts and bid him bring an answer. passages of life, up to that elevation which makes the life of the enamored so much superior to that of the rest of the world. But ever since the beauteous Cecilia has made such a figure as she now does in the circle of charming women, Cynthio has been secretly one of her adorers Lætitia has been the finest woman in town these three months, and so long Cynthio has acted the part of a lover very awkwardly in the presence of Flavia. Flavia has been too blind toward him, and has too

"MADAM,

Cynthio returned as follow:

"June 4, Three afternoon, 1712.

"That your maid and the bearer have seen me very often is very certain; but I desire to know, being engaged at piquet, what your letter means

Resembled.

"tis in vain to deny it.' I shall stay here all make it a very hard part to behave as becomes the evening. your humble slave,

"Your amazed CYNTHIO."

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As soon as Robin arrived with this, Flavia answered:

"DEAR CYNTHIO,

"I have walked a turn or two in my antechamber since I wrote to you, and have recovered myself from an impertinent fit which you ought to forgive me, and desire you would come to me immediately to laugh off a jealousy that you and a creature of the town went by in a hackney-coach an hour ago.

"I am your most humble Servant,

"FLAVIA."

"I will not open the letter which my Cynthio wrote upon the misapprehension you must have been under, when you wrote, for want of hearing the whole circumstance:"

Robin came back in an instant, and Cynthio auswered:

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"Half-an-hour six minutes after three,

MADAM, June 4, Will's Coffee-house. "It is certain I went by your lodging with a gentlewoman to whom I have the honor to be known; she is indeed my relation, and a pretty sort of woman. But your startling manner of writing, and owning you have not done me the honor so much as to open my letter, has in it something very unaccountable, and alarms one that has had thoughts of passing his days with you. But I am born to admire you with all your imperfections.

"CYNTHIO."

Robin an back and brought for answer:

Exact Sir, there are at Will's Coffee-house six minutes after three, June 4; one that has had thoughts, and all my little imperfections. Sir, come to me immediately, or I shall determine what may perhaps not be very pleasing to you.

"FLAVIA."

Robin gave an account that she looked excessive angry when she gave him the letter; and that he told her, for she asked, that Cynthio only looked at the clock, taking snuff, and wrote two or three words on the top of the letter when he gave him his.

Now the plot thickened so well, as that Cynthio saw he had not much more to do, to accomplish being irreconcilably banished; he wrote,

"MADAM,

"I have that prejudice in favor of all you do, that it is not possible for you to determine upon what will not be very pleasing to

"Your obedient Servant,
"CYNTHIO."

"CYNTHIO."

Robin whipt away and returned with, "MR. WELLFord,

"Flavia and Cynthio are no more. I relieve you from the hard part of which you complain, and banish you from my sight forever.

"ANN HEART "

Robin had a crown for his afternoon's work; and this is published to admonish Cecilia to avenge the injury done to Flavia.—T.

No. 399.] SATURDAY, JUNE 7, 1712.

Ut nemo in sese tentat descendere!-PERS. Sat. iv, 23.
None. none descends into himself to find

The secret imperfections of his mind.-DRYDEN. HYPOCRISY at the fashionable end of the town is very different from hypocrisy in the city. The modish hypocrite endeavors to appear more vicious than he really is, the other kind of hypo crite more virtuous. The former is afraid of everything that has the show of religion in it, and would be thought engaged in many criminal gallantries and amours which he is not guilty of. The latter assumes a face of sanctity, and covers a multitude of vices under a seeming religious deportment.

But there is another kind of hypocrisy, which differs from both these, and which I intend to make the subject of this paper, I mean that hypocrisy, by which a man does not only deceive the world, but very often imposes on himself; that hypocrisy which conceals his own heart from him, and makes him believe he is more virtuous than he really is, and either not attend to his vices, or mistake even his vices for virtues. It is this fatal hypocrisy, and self-deceit, which is taken notice of in those words, "Who can understand his errors? cleanse thou me from secret faults."

If the open professors of impiety deserve the utmost application and endeavors of moral writers to recover them from vice and folly, how much more may those lay a claim to their care and compassion, who are walking in the paths of death, while they fancy themselves engaged in a course of virtue! I shall endeavor, therefore, to lay down some rules for the discovery of those vices that lurk in the secret corners of the soul, and to show my reader those methods by which he may arrive at a true and impartial knowledge of himself. The usual means prescribed for this purpose are, to examine ourselves by the rules which are laid down for our direction in sacred writ, and to compare our lives with the life of that person who acted up to the perfection of human nature, and is the standing example, as well as the great guide and instructor, of those who receive his doctrines. Though these two heads cannot be too

This was delivered, and the answer returned, in much insisted upon, I shall but just mention them,

a little more than two seconds:

"SIR,

"Is it come to this? You never loved me, and the creature you were with is the properest person for your associate. I despise you, and hope I shall soon hate you as a villain to

"The credulous FLAVIA."

Robin ran back with: MADAM,

"Your credulity when you are to gain your point, and suspicion when you fear to lose it,

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adversary, on the contrary, makes a stricter search into us, discovers every flaw and imperfection in our tempers; and though his malice may set them in too strong a light, it has generally some ground for what it advances. A friend exaggerates a man's virtues, an enemy inflames his crimes. A wise man should give a just attention to both of them, so far as they may tend to the improvement of the one, and diminution of the other. Plutarch has written an essay on the benefits which a man may receive from his enemies, and among the good fruits of enmity, mentions this in particular, that by the reproaches which it casts upon us we see the worst side of ourselves, and open our eyes to several blemishes and defects in our lives and conversations, which we should not have observed without the help of such ill-natured monitors.

In order likewise to come at a true knowledge of ourselves, we should consider on the other hand how far we may deserve the praises and approbations which the world bestow upon us; whether the actions they celebrate proceed from laudable and worthy motives; and how far we are really possessed of the virtues which gain us applause among those with whom we converse. Such a reflection is absolutely necessary, if we consider how apt we are either to value or condemn ourselves by the opinions of others, and to sacrifice the report of our own hearts to the judgment of the world.

In the next place, that we may not deceive ourselves in a point of so much importance, we should not lay too great a stress on any supposed virtues we possess that are of a doubtful nature: and such we may esteem all those in which multitudes of men dissent from us, who are as good and wise as ourselves. We should always act with great cautiousness and circumspection in points where it is not impossible that we may be deceived. Intemperate zeal, bigotry, and persecution for any party or opinion, how praiseworthy soever they may appear to weak men of our own principles, produce infinite calamities among mankind, and are highly criminal in their own nature; and yet how many persons eminent for piety suffer such monstrous and absurd principles of action to take root in their minds under the color of virtues! For my own part, I must own I never yet knew any party so just and reasonable, that a man could follow it in its height and violence, and at the same time be innocent.

We should likewise be very apprehensive of those actions which proceed from natural constitution, favorite passions, particular education, or whatever promotes our worldly interest and advantage. In these and the like cases, a man's judgment is easily perverted, and a wrong bias hung upon his mind. These are the inlets of prejudice, the unguarded avenues of the mind, by which a thousand errors and secret faults find admission, without being observed or taken notice of. A wise man will suspect those actions to which he is directed by something beside reason, and always apprehend some concealed evil in every resolution that is of a disputable nature, when it is conformable to his particular temper, his age, or way of life, or when it favors his pleasure or his profit.

There is nothing of greater importance to us than thus diligently to sift our thoughts, and examine all these dark recesses of the mind, if we should establish our souls in such a solid and substantial virtue, as will turn to account in that great day when it must stand the test of infinite wisdom and justice.

I shall conclude this essay with observing that the two kinds of hypocrisy I have here spoken

of, namely, that of deceiving the world, and that of imposing on ourselves, are touched with wonderful beauty in the hundred and thirty-ninth psalm. The folly of the first kind of hypocrisy is there set forth by reflections on God's omníscience and omnipresence, which are celebrated in as noble strains of poetry as any other I ever net with, either sacred or profane. The other kind of hypocrisy, whereby a man deceives himself, is in timated in the two last verses, where the Psalmist addresses himself to the great Searcher of hearts in that emphatical petition, "Try me, O God! and seek the ground of my heart: prove me, and exa mine my thoughts. Look well if there be any way of wickedness in me, and lead me in the way everlasting."—L.

No. 400.] MONDAY, JUNE 9, 1712.

-Latet anguis in herba.--VIRG. Eel. iii, 93.
There's a snake in the grass.-ENGLISH PROVERES,

IT should, methinks, preserve modesty and its interests in the world, that the transgression of it always creates offense; and the very purposes of wantonness are defeated by a carriage which has in it so much boldness, as to intimate that fear and reluctance are quite extinguished in an object which would be otherwise desirable. It was said of a wit of the last age,

Sedley* has that prevailing gentle art Which can with a resistless charm impart The loosest wishes to the chastest heart; Raise such a conflict, kindle such & fire, Between declining virtue and desire, That the poor vanquish'd maid dissolves away In dreams all night, in sighs and tears all day. This prevailing gentle art was made up of complaisance, courtship, and artful conformity to the modesty of a woman's manners. Rusticity, broad expression, and forward obtrusion, offend those of education, and make the transgressors odious to all who have merit enough to attract regard. It is in this taste that the scenery is so beautifully ordered in the description which Antony makes, in the dialogue between him and Dolabella, of Cleopatra in her barge.

Her galley down the silver Cidnos row'd;
The tackling silk, the streamers wav'd with gold
The gentle winds were lodg'd in purple sails;
Her nymphs, like Nereids, round her couch were plac'd,
Where she, another sea-born Venus, lay;
She lay, and lean'd her cheek upon her hand,
And cast a look so languishingly sweet,

As if, secure of all beholders' hearts,

Neglecting she could take them. Boys, like Cupids,
Stood fanning with their painted wings the wind

That play'd about her face; but if she smil'd,

A darting glory seem'd to blaze abroad,

That men's desiring eyes were never wearied,
But hung upon the object. To soft flutes
The silver oars kept time: and while they play'd,
The hearing gave new pleasure to the sight;
And both to thought- -t

Here the imagination is warmed with all the objects presented, and yet is there nothing that is luscious, or what raises any idea more loose than that of a beautiful woman set off to advantage. The like, or a more delicate and careful spirit of modesty, appears in the following passage in one of Mr. Phillips' pastorals:

Breathe soft; ye winds! ye waters, gently flow!
Shield her, ye trees! ye flowers, around her grow!
Ye swains, I beg you, pass in silence by!
My love in yonder vale asleep does lie.

Sedley (Sir Cha.), a writer of verses in the reign of Charles II, with whom he was a great favorite. The noble man's verses quoted here allude, it has been said, not to Sir Charles Sedley's writings, but to his personal address; for we are told that, by studying human nature, he had acquired to an eminent degree the art of making himself agreeable. particularly to the ladies.

Dryden's "All for Love,” act iii.

Desire is corrected when there is a tenderness or | admiration expressed which partakes the passion. Licentious language has something brutal in it, which disgraces humanity, and leaves us in the condition of the savages in the field. But it may be asked, To what good use can tend a discourse of this kind at all? It is to alarm chaste ears against such as have, what is above called, the "prevailing gentle art." Masters of that talent are capable of clothing their thoughts in so soft a dress, and something so distant from the secret purpose of their heart, that the imagination of the unguarded is touched with a fondness, which grows too insensibly to be resisted. Much care and concern for the lady's welfare, to seem afraid lest she should be annoyed by the very air which surrounds her, and this uttered rather with kind looks, and expressed by an interjection, an "ah,” or an "oh," at some little hazard in moving or making a step, than in any direct profession of love, are the methods of skillful adinirers. They are honest arts when their purpose is such, but infamous when misapplied. It is certain that many a young woman in this town has had her heart irrecoverably won, by men who have not made one advance which ties their admirers, though the females languish with the utmost anxiety. I have often, by way of admonition to my female readers, given them warning against agreeable company of the other sex, except they are well acquainted with their characters. Women may disguise it if they think fit; and the more to do it, they may be angry at me for saying it; but I say it is natural to them, that they have no manner of approbation of men, without some degree of love. For this reason he is dangerous to be entertained as a friend or a visitant, who is capable of gaining any eminent esteem or observation, though it be never so remote from pretensions as a lover. If a man's heart has not the abhorrence of any treacherous design, he may easily improve approbation into kindness, and kindness into passion. There may possibly be no manner of love between them in the eyes of all their acquaintance; no, it is all friendship; and yet they may be as fond as shepherd and shepherdess in a pastoral, but still the nymph and the swain may be to each other, no other, I warrant you, than Pylades and Orestes.

When Lucy decks with flowers her swelling breast,
And on her elbow leans, dissembling rest;
Unable to refrain my madding mind,
Nor sheep nor pasture worth my care I find.

Once Delia slept, on easy moss reclin'd,
Her lovely limbs half bare, and rude the wind;
I smooth'd her coats, and stole a silent kiss;
Condemn me, shepherds, if I did amiss.

Such good offices as these, and such friendly thoughts and concerns for one another, are what make up the amity, as they call it, between man and woman.

It is the permission of such intercourse that makes a young woman come to the arms of her husband, after the disappointment of four or five passions which she has successively had for different men, before she is prudentially given to him for whom she has neither love nor friendship. For what should a poor creature do that has lost ail her friends? There's Marinet the agreeable, has, to my knowledge, had a friendship for Lord Welford, which had like to break her heart: then she had so great a friendship for Colonel Hardy, that she could not endure any woman else should do anything but rail at him. Many and fatal have been the disasters between friends who have fallen out, and their resentments are more keen than ever those of other men can possibly be: but

in this it happens, unfortunately, that as there ought to be nothing concealed from one friend to another, the friends of different sexes very often find fatal effects from their unanimity. For my part, who study to pass life in as much innocence and tranquillity as I can, I shun the company of agreeable women as much as possible; and must confess that I have, though a tolerable good philosopher, but a low opinion of Platonic love: for which reason I thought it necessary to give my fair readers a caution against it, having, to my great concern, observed the waist of a Platonist lately swell to a roundness which is inconsistent with that philosophy.-T.

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It is the capricious state of love, to be attended with inju ries, suspicions, enmities, truces, quarreling, and reconcilement.

I SHALL publish for the entertainment of this day, an odd sort of a packet, which I have just received from one of my female correspondents. "MR. SPECTATOR,

"Since you have often confessed that you are not displeased your papers should sometimes convey the complaints of distressed lovers to each other, I am in hopes you will favor one who gives you an undoubted instance of her reformation, and at the same time a convincing proof of the happy influence your labors have had over the most incorrigible part of the most incorrigible sex. You must know, Sir, I am one of that species of women, whom you have often characterized under the name of Jilts,' and that I send you these lines as well to do public penance for having so long continued in a known error, as to beg pardon of the party offended. I the rather choose this way, because it in some measure answers the terms on which he intimated the breach between us might possibly be made up, as you will see by the letter he sent me the next day after I had discarded him; which I thought fit to send you a copy of, that you might the better know the whole case.

"I must further acquaint you, that before I jilted him, there had been the greatest intimacy between us for a year and a half together, during all which time I cherished his hopes, and indulged his flame. I leave you to guess, after this, what must be his surprise, when upon his pressing for my full consent one day, I told him I wondered what could make him fancy he had ever any place in my affections. His own sex allow him sense, and all ours good breeding. His person is such as might, without vanity, make him believe himself not incapable of being beloved. Our fortunes, indeed, weighed in the nice scale of interest, are not exactly equal, which by the way was the true cause of my jilting him; and I had the assurance to acquaint him with the following maxim, that I should always believe that man's passion to be the most violent who could offer me the largest settlement. I have since changed my opinion, and have endeavored to let him know so much by several letters, but the barbarous man has refused them all; so that I have no way left of writing to him but by your assistance. If we can bring him about once more, I promise to send you all gloves and favors, and

shall desire the favor of Sir Roger and yourself | subjects, would raise all the passions which can to stand as godfathers, to my first boy.

"I am, Sir,

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be felt by human minds. As instances of this, I shall give you two or three letters; the writers of which can have no recourse to any legal power for redress, and seem to have written rather to vent their sorrow than to receive consolation.

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'MR. SPECTATOR,

"I AM SO surprised at the question you were "I am a young woman of beauty and quality, pleased to ask me yesterday, that I am still at a and suitably married to a gentleman who dotes loss what to say to it. At least my answer on me. But this person of mine is the object of would be too long to trouble you with, as it an unjust passion in a nobleman who is very inwould come from a person, who it seems is so timate with my husband. This friendship gives very indifferent to you. Instead of it, I shall him very easy access, and frequent opportunities only recommend to your consideration, the opin- of entertaining me apart. My heart is in the ion of one whose sentiments on these matters I utmost anguish, and my face is covered over have often heard you say are extremely just. A with confusion, when I impart to you another cirgenerous and constant passion,' says your favorite cumstance, which is, that my mother, the most author, in an agreeable lover, where there is not mercenary of all women, is gained by this false too great a disparity in their circumstances, is the friend of my husband to solicit me for him. I greatest blessing that can befall a person beloved; am frequently chid by the poor believing man and, if overlooked in one, may perhaps never my husband, for showing an impatience of his be found in another.' friend's company; and I am never alone with my "I do not, however, at all despair of being very mother but she tells me stories of the discretionshortly much better beloved by you than Antenorary part of the world, and such-a-one, and such-ais at present; since, whenever my fortune shall one, who are guilty of as much as she advises me exceed his, you were pleased to intimate your to. She laughs at my astonishment; and seems passion would increase accordingly. to hint to me, that, as virtuous as she always ap "The world has seen me shamefully lose that peared, I am not the daughter of her husband. time to please a fickle woman, which might have It is possible that printing this letter may relieve been employed much more to my credit and ad-me from the unnatural importunity of my mother, vantage in other pursuits. I shall therefore take the liberty to acquaint you, however harsh it may sound in a lady's ears, that though your love-fit should happen to return, unless you could contrive a way to make your recantation as well known to the public, as they are already apprised of the manner with which you have treated me,

vou shall never more see

SIR,

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"PHILANDER."

" AMORET TO PHILANDER,

UPON reflection, I find the injury I have done both to you and myself to be so great, that, though the part I now act may appear contrary to that decorum usually observed by our sex, yet I purposely break through all rules, that my repentance may in some measure equal my crime. I assure you, that in my present hopes of recovering you, I look upon Antenor's estate with contempt. The fop was here yesterday in a gilt chariot and new liveries, but I refused to see him. Though I dread to meet your eyes after what has passed, I flatter myself, that, amidst all their confusion, you will discover such a tenderness in mine, as none can imitate but those who love. I shall be all this month at Lady D- 's in the country; but the woods, the fields, and gardens, without Philander, afford no pleasures to the unhappy "AMORET."

and the perfidious courtship of my husband's
friend. I have an unfeigned love of virtue, and
am resolved to preserve my innocence. The only
way I can think of to avoid the fatal consequences
of the discovery of this matter is to fly away for
ever, which I must do to avoid my husband's
fatal resentment against the man who attempts to
abuse him, and the shame of exposing a parent to
infamy. The persons concerned will know these
circumstances relate to them; and though the re-
gard to virtue is dead in them, I have some hopes
from their fear of shame upon reading this in
your paper; which I conjure you to publish, if you
have any compassion for injured virtue.
"SYLVIA."

"MR SPECTATOR,

"I am the husband of a woman of merit, but am fallen in love, as they call it, with a lady of her acquaintance, who is going to be married to a gentleman who deserves her. I am in a trust relating to this lady's fortune, which makes my concurrence in this matter necessary; but I have so irresistible a rage and envy rise in me when I consider his future happiness, that against all reason, equity, and common justice, I am ever playing mean tricks to suspend the nuptials. I have no manner of hopes for myself: Emilia (for so I will call her,) is a woman of the most strict virtue; her lover is a gentleman, whom of all others I could wish my friend: but envy and jealousy, though placed so unjustly, waste my "I must desire you, dear Mr. Spectator, to pub-very being; and with the torment and sense of a lish this my letter to Philander as soon as pos- demon, I am ever cursing what I cannot but apsible, and to assure him that I know nothing at prove. I wish it were the beginning of repenall of the death of his rich uncle in Glouces-tance, that I sit down and describe my present tershire."-X.

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disposition with so hellish an aspect; but at present the destruction of these two excellent persons would be more welcome to me than their happiness. Mr. Spectator, pray let me have a paper on these terrible, groundless sufferings, and do all you can to exorcise crowds who are in some de gree possessed as I am. CANNIBAL."

"MR. SPECTATOR,

66

"I HAVE no other means but this to express my thanks to one man, and my resentment against another. My circumstances are as follow: I have

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