My last and only request shall be, that what to excuse, I am altogether ignorant. | doubt not (whatever the world may think Whereas you send unto me, (willing me to of me,) mine innocence shall be openly confess a truth, and to obtain your favour) known, and sufficiently cleared. by such an one, whom you know to be mine ancient professed enemy, I no sooner re-myself may only bear the burden of your ceived this message by him, than I rightly grace's displeasure, and that it may not conceived your meaning; and if, as you say, touch the innocent souls of those poor genconfessing a truth indeed may procure my tlemen who (as I understand,) are likewise safety, I shall with all willingness and duty in straight imprisonment for my sake. If perform your command. ever I have found favour 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; your most loyal and ever faithful wife, L. 'ANN BOLEYN.' Insanire pares certa ratione modoque. Hor. Sat. iii. Lib. 2. 272 'But let not your grace ever imagine, that your poor wife will ever be brought to acknowledge a fault, where not so much as a thought thereof proceeded. And to speak a truth, never prince had wife more loyal in all duty, and in all true affection, than you have ever found in Ann Boleyn: with which name and place I could willingly have contented myself, if God and your grace's pleasure had been so pleased. Neither did fat any time so far forget myself in my exaltation, or received queenship, but that I always looked for such an No. 398.] Friday, June 6, 1712. alteration as I now find; for the ground of my preferment being on no surer foundation than your grace's fancy, the least alteration I knew was fit and sufficient to draw that fancy to some other object. You have chosen me from a low estate to be your queen and companion, far beyond my desert or desire. If then you found me worthy of such honour, good your grace, let not any light fancy, or bad counsel of mine enemies, withdraw your princely favour from me; neither let that stain, that unworthy stain of a disloyal heart towards your good grace, ever cast so foul a blot on your most dutiful wife, and the infant princess your daughter. Try me, good king, but let me have a lawful trial, and let not my sworn enemies sit as my accusers and judges; yea, let me receive an open trial, for my truth shall fear no open shame; then shall you see either mine innocence cleared, your suspicion and conscience satisfied, the ignominy and slander of the world stopped, or my guilt openly declared. So that, whatever God or you may determine of me, your grace may be freed from an open censure; and mine offence being so lawfully proved, your grace is at liberty, both before God and man, not only to execute worthy punishment on me as an unlawful wife, but to follow your affection, already settled on that party, for whose sake I am now as I am, whose name I could some good while since have pointed unto your grace, not being ignorant of my suspicion therein. 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 enemies, 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 judgment seat, where both you and myself must shortly appear, and in whose judgment I VOL. II. 16 Creech. CYNTHIO and Flavia are persons of distinction in this town, who have been lovers these ten months last past, and writ to each other for gallantry sake under those feigned names; Mr. Such-a-one and Mrs. Such-aone not being capable of raising the soul out of the ordinary tracts and passages of life, up to that elevation which makes the life of the enamoured 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. Cecilia has been the finest woman in the 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 towards him, and has too sincere a heart of her own to observe a thousand things which would have discovered this change of mind to any one less engaged than she was. Cynthio was musing yesterday in the piazza in Covent-garden, and was saying to himself that he was a very ill man to go on in visiting and professing love to Flavia, when his heart was enthralled to another. It is an infirmity that I am not constant to Flavia; but it would be a still greater crime, since I cannot continue to love her, to pro[fess that I do. To marry a woman with the coldness that usually indeed comes on after marriage, is ruining one's self with one's eyes open; besides, it is really doing her an injury. This last consideration, forsooth, of injuring her in persisting, made him resolve to break off upon the first favourable opportunity of making her angry. When he was in this thought, he saw Robin the porter, who waits at Will's coffee-house, passing by. Robin, you must know, is the best man in the town for carrying a billet; the fellow has a thin body, swift step, demure looks, sufficient sense, and knows the town. This man carried Cynthio's first letter to Flavia, and, by frequent errands ever since, is well known to her. The fellow covers his knowledge of the nature of his messages with the most exquisite low humour 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 sure there was no harm in, but rather love, his family 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 importunity confess it. There needed not much search into that part of the town to find a well-dressed hussey 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 favoured his master; yet, if it was he, he was sure the lady was but his cousin, whom he had seen ask for him: adding, that he believed she was a poor relation; because they made her wait one morning till he was awake. Flavia immediately writ the following epistle, which Robin brought to Will's. After Cynthio had read the letter, he asked Robin how she looked, and what she said at the delivery of it. Robin said she spoke short to him, and called him back again, and had nothing to say to him, and bid him and all the men in the world go out of her sight; but the maid followed, and bid him bring an answer. Cynthio returned as follows: June 4, Three afternoon, 1712. 'MADAM,-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 by tis in vain to deny it." I shall stay here all the evening. Your amazed CYNTHIO.. As soon as Robin arrived with this, Flavia answered: * Resembled. 'DEAR CYNTHIO,-I have walked a turn or two in my ante-chamber since I writ 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 your humble servant, FLAVIA. 'I will not open the letter which my Cynthio writ upon the misapprehension you must have been under, when you writ, for want of hearing the whole circum stance.' Robin came back in an instant, and Cynthio answered: 'Half an hour six minutes after three, June 4, Will's coffee-house. lodgings with a gentlewoman to whom I 'MADAM,-It is certain I went by your have the honour to be known; she is indeed my relation, and a pretty sort of a woman. owning you have not done me the honour But your starting manner of writing, and 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 little imperfections. CYNTHIO.' Robin ran back and brought for answer: 'Exact sir, that are at Will's coffeehouse, 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 writ 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 accomplish, being irreconcilably banished: he writ, 'MADAM,-I have that prejudice in fayour 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.' This was delivered, and the answer returned, in 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 Robin ran back with: 'FLAVIA.' 'MADAM,-Your credulity when you are to gain your point, and suspicion when you fear to lose it, make it a very hard part to | much insisted upon, I shall but just mention behave as becomes your humble slave, 'CYNTHIÓ.' Ut nemo in sese tentat descendere!-Per. 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 endeavours to appear more vicious than he really is, the other kind of hypocrite more virtuous. The former is afraid of every thing 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.' them, since they have been handled by many great and eminent writers. I would therefore propose the following methods to the consideration of such as would find out their secret faults, and make a true estimate of themselves. In the first place, let them consider well what are the characters which they bear among their enemies. Our friends very often flatter us, as much as our own hearts. They either do not see our faults, or conceal them from us, or soften them by their representations, after such a manner that we think them too trivial to be taken notice of. An 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 one, and the 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 ir. 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. If the open professors of impiety deserve the utmost application and endeavours of moral writers to recover them from vice In the next place, that we may not deand folly, how much more may those lay a ceive ourselves in a point of so much imclaim to their care and compassion, who portance, we should not lay too great a are walking in the paths of death, while stress on any supposed virtues we possess they fancy themselves engaged in a course that are of a doubtful nature: and such we of virtue! I shall endeavour therefore to lay may esteem all those in which multitudes down some rules for the discovery of those of men dissent from us, who are as good and vices that lurk in the secret corners of the wise as ourselves. We should always act soul, and to show my reader those methods with great cautiousness and circumspection by which he may arrive at a true and im- in points where it is not impossible that partial knowledge of himself. The usual we may be deceived. Intemperate zeal, means prescribed for this purpose are to bigotry, and persecution for any party or examine ourselves by the rules which are opinion, how praise-worthy soever they laid down for our direction in sacred writ, may appear to weak men of our own prinand to compare our lives with the life of ciples, produce infinite calamities among that person who acted up to the perfection mankind, and are highly criminal in their of human nature, and is the standing ex- own nature: and yet how many persons ample, as well as the great guide and in-eminent for piety suffer such monstrous and structor, of those who receive his doctrines. absurd principles of action to take root in Though these two heads cannot be tool their minds under the colour 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 constitutions, favourite passions, particular education, or whatever promotes our worldly interest or 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 besides 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 favours 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 would 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 omniscience and omnipresence, which are celebrated in as noble strains of poetry as any other I ever met with, either sacred or profane. The other kind of hypocrisy, whereby a man deceives himself, is intimated 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 examine 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. Ec iii. 93. There's a snake in the grass.-English Proverb. Ir should, methinks, preserve modesty and its interests in the world, that the transgression of it always creates offence; 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 a fire, of complaisance, courtship, and artful conThis prevailing gentle art was made up formity to the modesty of a woman's manners, Rusticity, broad expression and forward obtrusion, offend those of education, who have merit enough to attract regard. and make the transgressors odious to all 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 objects presented, and yet there is noHere the imagination is warmed with all thing 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's pastorals. Breathe soft, ye winds! ye waters, gently flow! Desire is corrected when there is a ten derness or admiration expressed which partakes the passion. Licentious language has something brutal in it, which disgraces humanity, and leaves us in the condition of asked, To what good use can tend a disthe savages in the field. But it may be Course of this kind at all? It is to alarm chaste ears against such as have, what is Masters of that talent are capable of clothabove called, the prevailing gentle art." ing 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. fare, to seem afraid lest she should be anMuch care and concern for the lady's welnoyed 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 fession of love, are the methods of skilful or making a step, than in any direct proadmirers. They are honest arts when their purpose is such, but infamous when misap * Dryden's All for Love, act iii. sc. 1. 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 In amore hæc omnia insunt vitia. Injuriæ, plied. It is certain that many a young Ter. Eun. Act i. Sc. 1. this day, an odd sort of a packet, which I I SHALL publish for the entertainment of 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 favour one who gives you an undoubted instance of her reformation, and at the same time a convincing proof of the happy influence your labours have had over the most incorrigible part When Lucy decks with flowers her swelling breast, of the most incorrigible sex. Unable to refrain my madding mind, 'Once Delia slept, on easy moss reclin'd, Such good offices as these, and such friendly thoughts and concerns for another, are what make up the amity, as they call it, between man and woman. Yor 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 of fended. I the rather choose this way, be cause 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. 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 I must further acquaint you, that before is prudentially given to him for whom she I jilted him, there had been the greatest has neither love nor friendship. For what intimacy between us for a year and a half should a poor creature do that has lost all together, during all which time I cherished her friends? There's Marinet the agree- his hopes, and indulged his flame. I leave able has, to my knowledge, had a friend- you to guess, after this, what must be his ship for lord Welford, which had like to surprise, when upon his pressing for my break her heart: then she had so great a full consent one day, I told him I wondered friendship for colonel Hardy, that she could what could make him fancy he had ever not endure any woman else should do any any place in my affections. His own sex thing but rail at him. Many and fatal have allow him sense, and all ours good-breedbeen disasters between friends who have ing. His person is such as might, without fallen out, and these resentments are more vanity, make him believe himself not incakeen than ever those of other men can pos- pable of being beloved. Our fortunes, insibly be; but in this it happens unfortu-deed, weighed in the nice scale of interest, nately, 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 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 endeavoured to let him know so |