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they so violently oppose. Let me therefore advise this generation of wranglers, for their own and for the public good, to act at least so consistently with themselves, as not to burn with zeal for irreligion, and with bigotry for nonsense. C.

No. 186.] WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 3, 1711.
Coelum ipsum petimus stultitia- HOR. 3 Od. i, 38.
High Heaven itself our impious rage assails.-P.
UPON my return to my lodgings last night, I
found a letter from my worthy friend the clergy-
man, whom I have given some account of in my
former papers. He tells me in it that he was
particularly pleased with the latter part of my
yesterday's speculation; and at the same time
inclosed the following essay, which he desires me
to publish as the sequel to that discourse. It con-
sists partly of uncommon reflections, and partly
of such as have been already used, but now set in
a stronger light.

"A believer may be excused by the most hardened atheist for endeavoring to make him a convert, because he does it with an eye to both their interests. The atheist is inexcusable who tries to gain over a believer, because he does not propose the doing himself or the believer any good by

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little of the matter in question, that thei delity is but another term for their ignorane As folly and inconsiderateness are the fo tions of infidelity, the great pillars and su of it are either a vanity of appearing wise the rest of mankind, or an ostentation of e in despising the terrors of another world, have so great an influence on what the weaker minds; or an aversion to a belief tha cut them off from many of those pleasure propose to themselves, and fill them with r for many of those they have already tasted.

"The great received articles of the Christ ligion have been so clearly proved, fro authority of that divine revelation in whic are delivered, that it is impossible for tho have ears to hear, and eyes to see, not to b vinced of them. But were it possible fo thing in the Christian faith to be erroneous find no ill consequences in adhering to it great points of the incarnation and sufferi our Savior produce naturally such habits of in the mind of man, that, I say, suppo were possible for us to be mistaken in th infidel himself must at least allow, that n system of religion could so effectually cor to the heightening of morality. They g great ideas of the dignity of human natu of the love which the Supreme Being bear creatures, and consequently engage_us highest acts of duty toward our Creat "The prospect of a future state is the secret neighbor, and ourselves. How many nobl comfort and refreshment of my soul; it is that ments has St. Paul raised from the chief which makes nature look gay about me; it doubles of our religion, for the advancing of mor all my pleasures, and supports me under all my its three great branches! To give a sin afflictions. I can look at disappointments and ample in each kind. What can be a s misfortunes, pain and sickness, death itself, and motive to a firm trust and reliance on the what is worse than death, the loss of those who of our Maker, than the giving us his Son are dearest to me, with indifference, so long as I fer for us? What can make us love and keep in view the pleasures of eternity, and the even the most inconsiderable of manking state of being in which there will be no fears nor than the thought that Christ died for hi apprehensions, pains nor sorrows, sickness nor what dispose us to set a stricter guard up separation. Why will any man be so imperti-purity of our hearts, than our being mem nently officious as to tell me all this is only fancy and delusion? Is there any merit in being the messenger of ill news? If it is a dream, let me enjoy it, since it makes me both the happier and

such a conversion.

better man.

Christ, and a part of the society of whi immaculate person is the head? But th only a specimen of those admirable enfor of morality, which the apostle has drawn f history of our blessed Savior.

"I must confess I do not know how to trust a "If our modern infidels considered the man who believes neither heaven nor hell, or in ters with that candor and seriousness whi other words, a future state of rewards and punish- deserve, we should not see them act with ments. Not only natural self-love, but reason, spirit of bitterness, arrogance, and malice. directs us to promote our own interests above all would not be raising such insignificant things. It can never be for the interest of a be- doubts, and scruples, as may be started liever to do me a mischief, because he is sure upon everything that is not capable of mathe the balance of accounts to find himself a loser by demonstration; in order to unsettle the min it. On the contrary, if he considers his own ignorant, disturb the public peace, subv welfare in his behavior toward me, it will lead rality, and throw all things into confus him to do me all the good he can, and at the same disorder. If none of these reflections can h time restrain him from doing me any injury. An influence on them, there is one that perha unbeliever does not act like a reasonable creature, because it is adapted to their vanity, by if he favors me contrary to his present interest, they seem to be guided much more th or does not distress me when it turns to his pres- reason. I would therefore have them c ent advantage. Honor and good-nature may in- that the wisest and best of men, in all age deed tie up his hands; but as these would be world, have been those who lived up to very much strengthened by reason and principle, ligion of their country, when they saw no so without them they are only instincts, or wa-it opposite to morality, and to the best lig vering, unsettled notions, which rest on no foundation.

"Infidelity has been attacked with so good success of late years, that it is driven out of all its outworks. The atheist has not found his post tenable, and is therefore retired into deism, and a disbelief of revealed religion only. But the truth of it is, the greatest number of this set of men are those who, for want of a virtuous education, or examining the grounds of religion, know so very

had of the divine nature. Pythagoras's f directs us to worship the gods 'as it is by law,' for that is the most natural interp of the precept. Socrates, who was the nowned among the heathens, both for and virtue, in his last moments desires hi to offer a cock to Esculapius: doubtless submissive deference to the established of his country. Xenophon tells us, that h (whom he sets forth as a pattern of per

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when he found his death approaching, offered sa- unregarded; and is obliged to indulge theilt in crifices on the mountains to the Persian Jupiter, her constitution, by laying artificial plots, writing and the Sun, 'according to the custom of the Per- perplexing letters from unknown hands, and sians;' for those are the words of the historian.* making all the young fellows in love with her, Nay, the Epicureans and atomical philosophers until they find out who she is. Thus, as before showed a very remarkable modesty in this particu- she gave torment by disguising her inclination, lar; for though the being of a God was entirely re- she is now obliged to do it by hiding her person. pugnant to their schemes of natural philosophy, "As for my own part, Mr. Spectator, it has been they contented themselves with the denial of a my unhappy fate to be jilted from my youth upProvidence, asserting at the same time the ex-ward; and as my taste has been very much toward istence of gods in general; because they would not shock the common belief of mankind, and the religion of their country."-L.

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"I do not know that you have ever touched upon a certain species of women, whom we ordinarily call jilts. You cannot possibly go upon a more useful work, than the consideration of these dangerous animals. The coquette is indeed one degree toward the jilt; but the heart of the former is bent upon admiring herself, and giving false hopes to her lovers; but the latter is not contented to be extremely amiable, but she must add to that advantage a certain delight in being a torment to others. Thus when her lover is in full expectation of success, the jilt shall meet him with a sudden indifference and admiration in her face at his being surprised that he is received like a stranger, and a cast of her head another way with a pleasant scorn of the fellow's insolence. It is very probable the lover goes home utterly astonished and dejected, sits down to his scrutoire, sends her word in the most abject terms, that he knows not what he has done, that all which was desirable in this life is so suddenly vanished from him, that the charmer of his soul should withdraw the vital heat from the heart which pants for her. He continues a mournful absence for some time, pining in secret, and out of humor with all things that he meets with. At length he takes a resolution to try his fate, and explains with her resolutely upon her unaccountable carriage. He walks up to her apartment, with a thousand inquietudes, and doubts in what manner he shall meet the first cast of her eye; when upon his first appearance she flies toward him, wonders where he has been, accuses him of his absence, and treats him with a familiarity as surprising as her former coldness. This good correspondence continues until the lady observes the lover grows happy in it, and then she interrupts it with some new inconsistency of behavior. For (as I just now said) the happiness of a jilt consists only in the power of making others uneasy. But such is the folly of this sect of women, that they carry on this pretty skittish behavior, until they have no charms left to render it supportable. Corinna, that used to torment all who conversed with her with false glances, and little heedless unguarded motions, that were to betray some inclination toward the man she would insnare, finds at present all she attempts that way

Xenoph. Cyropsed., lib. 8, p. 500. Ed. Hutchins, 1747, 8vo.

intrigue, and having intelligence with women of wit, my whole life has passed away in a series of impositions. I shall, for the benefit of the present race of young men, give some account of my loves. I know not whether you have ever heard of the famous girl gbout town called Kitty. This creature (for I must take shame upon myself) was my mistress in the days when keeping was in fashion. Kitty, under the appearance of being wild, thoughtless, and irregular in all her words and actions, concealed the most accomplished jilt of her time. Her negligence had to me a charm in it like that of chastity, and want of desires seemed as great a merit as the conquest of them. The air she gave herself was that of a romping girl, and whenever I talked to her with any turn of fondness, she would immediately snatch off my periwig, try it upon herself in the glass, clap her arms a-kimbo, draw my sword, and make passes on the wall, take off my cravat, and seize it to make some other use of the lace, or run into some other unaccountable rompishness, until the time I had appointed to pass away with her was over. I went from her full of pleasure at the reflection that I had the keeping of so much beauty in a woman who, as she was too heedless to please me, was also too inattentive to form a design to wrong me. Long did I divert every hour that hung heavy upon me in the company of this creature, whom I looked upon as neither guilty nor innocent, but could laugh at myself for my unaccountable pleasure in an expense upon her, until in the end it appeared my pretty insensible was with child by my footman.

"This accident roused me into disdain against all libertine women, under what appearance soever they hid their insincerity, and I resolved after that time to converse with none but those who lived within the rules of decency and honor. To this end I formed myself into a more regular turn of behavior, and began to make visits, frequent assemblies, and lead our ladies from the theaters, with all the other insignificant duties which the professed servants of the fair place themselves in constant readiness to perform. In a very little time (having a plentiful fortune), fathers and mothers began to regard me as a good match, and I found easy admittance into the best families in town to observe their daughters; but I, who was born to follow the fair to no purpose, have by the force of my ill stars, made my application to three jilts successively.

"Hyæna is one of those who form themselves into a melancholy and indolent air, and endeavor to gain admirers from their inattention to all around them. Hyæna can loll in her coach, with something so fixed in her countenance, that it is impossible to conceive her meditation is employed only on her dress, and her charms in that posture. If it were not too coarse a simile, I should say, Hyæna, in the figure she affects to appear in, is a spider in the midst of a cobweb, that is sure to destroy every fly that approaches it. The net Hyæna throws is so fine, that you are taken in it before you can observe any part of her work. I attempted her for a long and weary season, but I found her passion went no further than to be ad

mired; and she is of that unreasonable temper, as not to value the inconstancy of her lovers, provided she can boast she once had their addresses. "Biblis was the second I aimed at, and her vanity lay in purchasing the adorers of others, and not in rejoicing in their love itself. Biblis is no man's mistress, but every woman's rival. As soon as I found this, I fell in love with Chloe, who is my present pleasure and torment. I have written to her, danced with her, and fought for her, and have been her man in the sight and expectation of the whole town these three years, and thought myself near the end of my wishes; when the other day she called me into her closet, and told me, with a very grave face, that she was a woman of honor, aud scorned to deceive a man who loved her with so much sincerity as she saw I did, and therefore she must inform me that she was by nature the most inconstant creature breathing, and begged me not to marry her; if I insisted upon it, I should; but that she was lately fallen in love with another. What to do or say I know not, but desire you to inform me, and you will infinitely oblige,

C.

"Sir, your humble servant, "CHARLES YELLOW."

ADVERTISEMENT.

Mr. Sly, haberdasher of hats, at the corner of Devereux-court, in the Strand, gives notice, that he has prepared very neat hats, rubbers and brushes, for the use of young tradesmen in the last year of apprenticeship, at reasonable rates.-T.

No. 188.] FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5, 1711.

Lætus sum laudari a te laudato viro.-TULL

It gives me pleasure to be praised by you, whom all men praise.

He is a very unhappy man who sets his heart upon being admired by the multitude, or affects a general and undistinguishing applause among men. What pious men call the testimony of a good conscience, should be the measure of our ambition in this kind; that is to say, a man of spirit should contemn the praise of the ignorant, and like being applauded for nothing but what he knows in his own heart he deserves. Beside which, the character of the person who commends you is to be considered, before you set a value upon his esteem. The praise of an ignorant man is only good-will, and you should receive his kindness as he is a good neighbor in society, and not as a good judge of your actions in point of fame and reputation. The satirist said very well of popular praise and acclamations, "Give the tinkers and cobblers their presents again, and learn to live of yourself." It is an argument of a loose and ungoverned mind to be affected with the promiscuous approbation of the generality of mankind; and a man of virtue should be too delicate for so coarse an appetite of fame. Men of honor should endeavor only to please the worthy, and the man of merit should desire to be tried only by his peers. I thought it a noble sentiment which I heard yesterday uttered in conversation: "I know," said a gentleman, "a way to be greater than any man. If he has worth in him, I can rejoice in his superiority to me; and that satisfaction is a greater act of the soul in me, than any in him which can possibly appear to me." This thought could proceed but from a candid and generous spirit; and the approbation of such minds is what may be esteemed true

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praise: for with the common race of men the nothing commendable but what they thems may hope to be partakers of, and arrive at the motive truly glorious is, when the mind i rather to do things laudable, than to purchas putation. Where there is that sincerity as foundation of a good name, the kind opinio virtuous men will be an unsought, but a nece consequence. The Lacedæmonians, thoug plain people, and no pretenders to politeness a certain delicacy in their sense of glory sacrificed to the Muses when they entered any great enterprise. They would have the memoration of their actions be transmitted b purest and most untainted memorialists. din which attends victories and public triu is by far less eligible than the recital of the a of great men by honest and wise historians. a frivolous pleasure to be the admiration of ing crowds; but to have the approbation of a man in the cool reflections of his closet, is a fication worthy a heroic spirit. The applau the crowd makes the head giddy, but the at tion of a reasonable man makes the heart gl

What makes the love of popular or g praise still more ridiculous, is that it is us given for circumstances which are foreign persons admired. Thus they are the ordina tendants on power and riches, which may be out of one man's hands, and put into anot The application only, and not the posse makes those outward things honorable. Th gar and men of sense agree in admiring me having what they themselves would rather b sessed of; the wise man applauds him who thinks most virtuous, the rest of the world who is most wealthy.

When a man is in this way of thinking not know what can occur to one more mons than to see persons of ingenuity address services and performances to men no way ad to liberal arts. In these cases, the praise o hand, and the patronage on the other, are e the objects of ridicule. Dedications to ig men are as absurd as any of the speeches of finch in the Droll. Such an address one is translate into other words; and when the di parties are thoroughly considered, the pan generally implies no more than if the should say to the patron; "My very good you and I can never understand one therefore I humbly desire we may be in friends for the future."

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The rich may as well ask to borrow poor, as the man of virtue and merit hope f dition to his character from any but such a self. He that commends another engages so of his own reputation as he gives to that commended; and he that has nothing lauda himself is not of ability to be such as The wise Phocion was so sensible how dang it was to be touched with what the mul approved, that upon a general acclamation when he was making an oration, he turned intelligent friend who stood near him, and in a surprised manner, "What slip have I m

I shall conclude this paper with a billet has fallen into my hands, and was writte lady from a gentleman whom she had commended. The author of it had formerly her lover. When all possibility of commer tween them on the subject of love was cut o spoke so handsomely of him, as to give oc to this letter.

"MADAM,

"I should be insensible, to a stupidity

could forbear making my acknowledgments for your late mention of me with so much applause. It is, I think, your fate to give me new sentiments as you formerly inspired me with the true sense of love, so do you now with the true sense of glory. As desire had the least part in the passion I heretofore professed toward you, so has vanity no share in the glory to which you have now raised me. Innocence, knowledge, beauty, virtue, sincerity, and discretion, are the constant ornaments of her who has said this of me. Fame is a babbler, but I have arrived at the highest glory in this world, the commendation of the most deserving person in it.”—T.

No. 189.] SATURDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1711. -Patrie pietatis imago.-VIRG. Æn., x, 824.

An image of paternal tenderness.

THE following letter being written to my bookseller, upon a subject of which I treated some time since, I shall publish it in this paper, together with the letter that was inclosed in it:

"MR. BUCKLEY,

"Mr. Spectator having of late descanted upon the cruelty of parents to their children, I have been induced (at the request of several of Mr. Spectator's admirers) to inclose this letter, which I assure you is the original from a father to his own son, notwithstanding the latter gave but little or no provocation. It would be wonderfully obliging to the world, if Mr. Spectator would give us his opinion of it in some of his speculations, and particularly to (Mr. Buckley),

"SIRRAHI,

"Your humble servant."

"You are a saucy, audacious rascal, and both fool and mad, and I care not a farthing whether you comply or no; that does not raze out my impressions of your insolence, going about railing at me, and the next day to solicit my favor. These are inconsistencies, such as discover thy reason depraved. To be brief, I never desire to see your face; and, sirrah, if you go to the workhouse, it is no disgrace to me for you to be supported there; and if you starve in the streets, I'll never give anything underhand in your behalf. If I have anything more of your scribbling nonsense, I'll break your head the first time I set sight on you. You are a stubborn beast; is this your gratitude for my giving you money? You rogue, I'll better your judgment, and give you a greater sense of your duty to (I regret to say) your father, etc.

"P. S. It's prudent for you to keep out of my sight; for to reproach me that might overcomes right, on the outside of your letter, I shall give

you a great knock on the skull for it."

Was there ever such an image of paternal tenderness! It was usual among some of the Greeks to make their slaves drink to excess, and then expose them to their children, who by that means conceived an early aversion to a vice which makes men appear so monstrous and irrational. I have exposed this picture of an unnatural father with the same intention, that its deformity may deter others from its resemblance. If the reader has a mind to see a father of the same stamp represented in the most exquisite strokes of humor, he may meet with it in one of the finest comedies that ever appeared upon the English stage: I mean the part of Sir Sampson in Love for Love. I must not, however, engage myself blindly on the side of the son, to whom the fond letter above

His father calls him a written was directed. saucy and audacious rascal" in the first line, and I am afraid, upon examination, he will prove but an ungracious youth. "To go about railing' at his father, and to find no other place but "the outside of his letter" to tell him "that might overcomes right," if it does not discover "his reason to be depraved," and "that he is either fool or mad," as the choleric old gentleman tells him, we may at least allow that the father will do very well in endeavoring to "better his judgment, and give him a greater sense of his duty." whether this may be brought about by "breaking his head," or "giving him a great knock on the skull, ought, I think, to be well considered. Upon the whole, I wish the father has not met with his match, and that he may not be as equally paired with his son, as the mother in Virgil:

-Crudelis tu quoque mater:

Crudelis mater magis, an puer improbus ille? Improbus ille puer, crudelis tu quoque mater.

But

Ecl., xiii, 48.

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I must here take notice of a letter which I have

received from an unknown correspondent, upon the subject of my paper, upon which the foregoing letter is likewise founded. The writer of it seems very much concerned lest the paper should seem to give encouragement to the disobedience of children toward their parents; but if the writer of it will take the pains to read it over again attenPardon and reconciliation are all the penitent tively, I dare say his apprehensions will vanish. daughter requests, and all that I contend for in her behalf; and in this case I may use the saying of an eminent wit, who, upon some great man's pressing him to forgive his daughter, who had married against his consent, told them he could refuse nothing to their instances, but that he would have them remember there was difference between giving and forgiving.

I must confess, in all controversies between parents and their children, I am naturally prejudiced in favor of the former. The obligations on that side can never be acquitted, and I think it is one of the greatest reflections upon human nature, that paternal instinct should be a stronger motive to love than filial gratitude; that the receiving of favors should be a less inducement to a good will, tenderness, and commiseration, than the conferring of them; and that the taking care of any person should endear the child or dependent more to the parent or benefactor, than the parent or benefactor to the child or dependent: yet so it happens, that for one cruel parent we meet with a thousand undutiful children. This is, indeed, wonderfully contrived (as I have formerly observed) for the support of every living species: but at the same time that it shows the wisdom of the Creator, it discovers the imperfection and degeneracy of the creature.

The obedience of children to their parents is the basis of all government, and set forth as the measure of that obedience which we owe to those whom Providence hath placed over us.

It is father Le Compte, if I am not mistaken, who tells us how want of duty in this particular is punished among the Chinese, insomuch that if a son should be known to kill, or so much as to strike his father, not only the criminal, but his

whole family would be rooted out, nay, the inhab- | whole world. My humble servant made me itants of the place where he lived would be put to the sword, nay, the place itself would be razed to the ground, and its foundations sown with salt. For, say they, there must have been an utter depravation of manners in that clan or society of people who could have bred up among them so horrid an offender. To this I shall add a passage out of the first book of Herodotus. That historiau, in his account of the Persian customs and religion, tells us, it is their opinion that no man ever killed his father, or that it is possible such a crime should be in nature; but that if anything like it should ever happen, they conclude that the reputed son must have been illegitimate, supposititious, or begotten in adultery. Their opinion in this particular shows sufficiently what a notion they must have had of undutifulness in general.

L.

No. 190.] MONDAY, OCTOBER 8, 1711.

Servitus crescit nova

HOR. 2 Od. viii, 18.

A slavery to former times unknown. SINCE I made some reflections upon the general negligence used in the case of regard toward women, or, in other words, since I talked of wenching, I have had epistles upon that subject, which I shall, for the present entertainment, insert as they lie before me.

"MR. SPECTATOR,

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derstand that I should always be kept in the p tiful condition I then enjoyed: when after a great fondness toward me, he one day took leave of me for four or five days. In the eve of the same day my good landlady came to and observing me very pensive, began to con me, and with a smile told me I must see world. When I was deaf to all she could sa divert me, she began to tell me with a very fi air that I must be treated as I ought, and not these squeamish humors upon me, for my fr had left me to the town; and, as their phras she expected I would see company, or I mus treated like what I had brought myself to. put me into a fit of crying; and I immediately a true sense of my condition, threw myself on floor, deploring my fate, calling upon all that good and sacred to succor me. While I wa all this agony, I observed a decrepid old fel I come into the room, and looking with a sens pleasure in his face at all my vehemence and tr port. In a pause of my distresses I heard say to the shameless old woman who stood by She is certainly a new face, or else she ac rarely.' With that the gentlewoman, who making her market of me, in all the turns of person, the heaves of my passion, and the suit changes of my posture, took occasion to comm my neck, my shape, my eyes, my limbs. All was accompanied with such speeches as you have heard horse-coursers make in the sale nags, when they are warranted for their sou "As your speculations are not confined to any ness. You understand by this time that I part of human life, but concern the wicked as well left in a brothel, and exposed to the next big as the good, I must desire your favorable accept- who could purchase me of my patroness. T ance of what I, a poor strolling girl about town, is so much the work of hell: the pleasure in have to say to you. I was told by a Roman Cath- possession of us wenches abates in proportion olic gentleman who picked me up last week, and the degrees we go beyond the bounds of in who, I hope is absolved for what passed between cence; and no man is gratified, if there is noth us; I say, I was told by such a person, who en- left for him to debauch. Well, Sir, my first m deavored to convert me to his own religion, that when I came upon the town, was Sir Jeoffry i in countries where popery prevails, beside the ble, who was extremely lavish to me of his advantages of licensed stews, there are large en-ney, and took such a fancy to me that he wo dowments given for the Incurabili, I think he called them, such as are past all remedy, and are allowed such maintenance and support as to keep them without further care until they expire. This manner of treating poor sinners has, methinks, great humanity in it; and as you are a person who pretend to carry your reflections, upon all subjects whatever that occur to you, with candor, and act above the sense of what misinterpretation you may meet with, I beg the favor of you to lay before all the world the unhappy condition of us poor vagrants, who are really in a way of labor instead of idleness. There are crowds of us whose manner of livelihood has long ceased to be pleasing to us and who would willingly lead a new life, if the rigor of the virtuous did not forever expel us from coming into the world again. As it now happens, to the eternal infamy of the male sex, falsehood among you is not reproachful, but credulity in women is infamous.

"Give me leave, Sir, to give you my history. You are to know that I am a daughter of a man of a good reputation, tenant to a man of quality. The heir of this great house took it in his head to cast a favorable eye upon me, and succeeded. I do not pretend to say he promised me marriage: I was not a creature silly enough to be taken by so foolish a story: but he ran away with me up to this town, and introduced me to a grave matron, with who.n I boarded for a day or two with great gravity, and was not a little pleased with the change of my condition, from that of a country life to the finest company, as I believed, in the

toge

have carried me off, if my patroness would b
taken any reasonable terms for me; but as
was old, his covetousness was his strongest
sion, and poor I was soon left exposed to be
common refuse of all the rakes and debauchee
town. I cannot tell whether you will do me
tice or no, till I see whether you print this or t
otherwise, as I now live with Sal. I could g
you a very just account of who and who
er in this town. You perhaps wont believe
but I know of one who pretends to be a very
Protestant, who lies with a Roman Catholic
more of this hereafter, as you please me. Th
do come to. our house the greatest politicians
the age; and Sal is more shrewd than anyb
thinks. Nobody can believe that such wis
could go to bawdy-houses out of idle purpo
I have heard them often talk of Augustus Cæ
who had intrigues with the wives of senators,
out of wantonness but stratagem.

"It is a thousand pities you should be * verely virtuous as I fear you are; otherwise, one visit or two, you would soon understand we women of the town are not such useless respondents as you may imagine: you have doubtedly heard that it was a courtesan who d covered Catiline's conspiracy. If you print t I'll tell you more: and am in the meantime,

"Sir, your most humble servant,
"6 REBECCA NETTLETOP."

A celebrated courtesan and procuress of those times.

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