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master in this art than Ovid, tells me, that the palest features look the most agreeable in white sarsenet; that a face which is overflushed appears to advantage in the deepest scarlet; and that the darkest complexion is not a little alleviated by a black hood. In short, he is for losing the colour of the face in that of the hood, as a fire burns dimly, and a candle goes half out, in the light of the sun. This,' says he, 'your Ovid himself has hinted, where he treats of these matters, when he tells us that the blue water-nymphs are dressed in skycoloured garments; and that Aurora, who always appears in the light of the rising sun, is robed in saffron.'

general, with relation to the gift of chastity, but at present only enter upon that large field, and begin with the consideration of poor and public whores. The other evening, passing along near Covent-garden, I was jogged on the elbow as I turned into the piazza, on the right hand coming out of James-street, by a slim young girl of about seventeen, who with a pert air asked me if I was for a pint of wine. I do not know but I should have indulged my curiosity in having some chat with her, but that I am informed the man of the Bumper knows me; and it would have made a story for him not very agreeable to some part of my writings, though I have in others so frequently said, that I am wholly unconcerned in any scene I am in but merely as a Spectator. This impediment being in my way, we stood under one of the arches by twilight; and there I could observe as exact features as I had ever seen, the most agreeable shape, the finest neck and bosom; in a word, the whole person of a woman As I have nothing more at heart than the exquisitely beautiful. She affected to alhonour and improvement of the fair sex, I lure me with a forced wantonness in her cannot conclude this paper without an ex-look and air; but I saw it checked with hortation to the British ladies, that they would excel the women of all other nations as much in virtue and good sense, as they do in beauty: which they may certainly do, if they will be as industrious to cultivate their minds, as they are to adorn their bodies. In the mean while I shall recommend to their most serious consideration the saying of an old Greek poet:

Whether these his observations are justly grounded I cannot tell; but I have often known him, as we have stood together behind the ladies, praise or dispraise the complexion of a face which he never saw, from observing the colour of her hood, and [he] has been very seldom out in these his guesses.

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No vice or wickedness which people fall into from indulgence to desires which are natural to all, ought to place them below the compassion of the virtuous part of the world; which indeed often makes me a little apt to suspect the sincerity of their virtue, who are too warmly provoked at other people's personal sins. The unlawful commerce of the sexes is of all others the hardest to avoid; and yet there is no one

which you shall hear the rigider part of womankind speak of with so little mercy. It is very certain that a modest woman cannot abhor the breach of chastity too much; but pray let her hate it for herself, and only pity it in others, Will Honeycomb calls these over-offended ladies, the outrageously virtuous.

I do not design to fall upon failures in

hunger and cold; her eyes were wan and
eager, her dress thin and tawdry, her mien
genteel and childish. This strange figure
gave me much anguish of heart, and to
avoid being seen with her, I went away,
but could not forbear giving her a crown.
The poor thing sighed, courtesied, and
with a blessing expressed with the_ut-
most vehemence, turned from me. This
creature is what they call 'newly come
upon the town,' but who falling, I suppose,
into cruel hands, was left in the first month
from her dishonour, and exposed to pass
through the hands and discipline of one of
those hags of hell whom we call bawds.
But lest I should grow too suddenly grave
on this subject, and be myself outrageously
good, I shall turn to a scene in one of Flet-
cher's plays, where this character is drawn,
and the economy of whoredom most ad-
mirably described. The passage I would
point to is in the third scene of the second
who is agent for the king's lust, and bawds
act of the Humorous Lieutenant. Leucippe,
at the same time for the whole court, is
minutes as a person of business, with two
very pleasantly introduced, reading her
maids, her under secretaries, taking in-
structions at a table before her. Her wo-
men, both those under her present tutelage,
and those which she is laying wait for, are
alphabetically set down in her book; and
as she is looking over the letter C in a mut-
tering voice, as if between soliloquy and
speaking out, she says,

Her maidenhead will yield me; let me see now;
Cloe, Cloe, Cloe, here I have her,
She is not fifteen they say; for her complexion-
Cloe, the daughter of a country gentleman;
Her age upon fifteen. Now her complexion,-
A lovely brown; here 'tis; eyes black and rolling,
The body neatly built; she strikes a lute well,
Sings most enticingly. These helps consider'd, '

Her maidenhead will amount to some three hundred,

be delivered over to famine. The ironical

Or three hundred and fifty crowns, 'twill bear it hand- commendation of the industry and charity

somely:

Her father's poor; some little share deducted,
To buy him a hunting nag.-

These creatures are very well instructed in the circumstances and manners of all who are any way related to the fair one whom they have a design upon. As Cloe is to be purchased with 350 crowns, and the father taken off with a pad; the merchant's wife next to her, who abounds in plenty, is not to have downright money, but the mercenary part of her mind is engaged with a present of plate, and a little ambition. She is made to understand that it is a man of quality who dies for her. The examination

of these antiquated ladies, these directors of sin, after they can no longer commit it, makes up the beauty of the inimitable dedication to the Plain-Dealer, and is a master-piece of raillery on this vice. But to understand all the purlieus of this game the better, and to illustrate this subject in future discourses, I must venture myself, with my friend Will, into the haunts of beauty and gallantry; from pampered vice in the habitations of the wealthy, to distressed indigent wickedness expelled the harbours of the brothel. T.

Cedite Romani scriptores, cedite Graii.

of a young girl for business, and the crying No. 267.] Saturday, January 5, 1711-12. down her value for being a slight thing, together with every other circumstance in the scene, are inimitably excellent, and have the true spirit of comedy; though it were to be wished the author had added a circumstance which should make Leucippe's baseness more odious.

It must not be thought a digression from my intended speculation, to talk of bawds in a discourse upon wenches; for a woman of the town is not thoroughly and properly such without having gone through the education of one of these houses. But the compassionate case of very many is, that they are taken into such hands without any the least suspicion, previous temptation, or admonition to what place they are going. The last week I went to an inn in the city to enquire for some provisions which were sent by a waggon out of the country; and as I waited in one of the boxes till the chamberlain had looked over his parcels, I heard an old and a young voice repeating the questions and responses of the churchcatechism. I thought it no breach of goodmanners to peep at a crevice, and look in at people so well employed; but who should I see there but the most artful procuress in town, examining a most beautiful countrygirl, who had come up in the same waggon with my things, whether she was well educated, could forbear playing the wanton with servants and idle fellows, of which this town, says she, is too full. At the same time, whether she knew enough of breeding, as that if a 'squire or a gentleman, or one that was her betters, should give her a civil salute, she should courtesy and be humble nevertheless.' Her innocent forsooths, yeses, and't please you's, and she would do her endeavour,' moved the good old lady to take her out of the hands of a country bumpkin, her brother, and hire her for her own maid. I staid till I saw them all march out to take a coach; the brother loaded with a great cheese, he prevailed upon her to take for her civilities to his sister. This poor creature's fate is not far off that of her's whom I spoke of above; and it is not to be doubted, but after she has been long enough a prey to lust, she will

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Propert. El. 34. Lib. 2.65. Give place, ye Roman, and ye Grecian wits. THERE is nothing in nature so irksome as general discourses, especially when they turn chiefly upon words. For this reason I shall waive the discussion of that point which was started some years since, whether Milton's Paradise Lost may be called an heroic poem? Those who will not give it that title, may call it (if they please) a divine poem. It will be sufficient to its perfection, if it has in it all the beauties of the highest kind of poetry; and as for those who allege it is not an heroic poem, they advance no more to the diminution of it, than if they should say Adam is not Æneas, nor Eve Helen.

I shall therefore examine it by the rules of epic poetry, and see whether it falls short of the Iliad or Æneid, in the beauties which are essential to that kind of writing. The first thing to be considered in an epic poem, is the fable, which is perfect or imperfect, according as the action which it relates is more or less so. This action should have three qualifications, in it. First, it should be but one action. Secondly, it should be an entire action; and, Thirdly, it should be a great action. To consider the action of the Iliad, Æneid, and Paradise Lost, in these three several lights: Homer, to preserve the unity of his action, hastens into the midst of things, as Horace has observed. Had he gone up to Leda's egg, or begun much later, even at the rape of Helen, or * the investing of Troy, it is manifest that the story of the poem would have been a series of several actions. He therefore opens his poem with the discord of his princes, and artfully interweaves, in the several succeeding parts of it, an account of every thing material which relates to them, and had passed before that fatal dissention. After the same manner Æneas makes his first appearance in the Tyrrhene seas, and within sight of Italy, because the action proposed to be celebrated was that of his settling himself in Latium. But because it was necessary for the reader to

which it must be supposed to take from its original to its consummation. Thus we see the anger of Achilles in its birth, its continuance, and effects; and Æneas's settlement in Italy carried on through all the oppositions in his way to it both by sea and land. The action in Milton excels (I think) both the former in this particular; we see it contrived in hell, executed upon earth, and punished by heaven. The parts of it are told in the most distinct manner, and grow out of one another in the most natural method.

know what had happened to him in the taking of Troy, and in the preceding parts of his voyage, Virgil makes his hero relate it by way of episode in the second and third books of the Eneid. The contents of both which books came before those of the first book in the thread of the story, though for preserving this unity of action they follow them in the disposition of the poem. Milton, in imitation of these two great poets, opens his Paradise Lost with an infernal council plotting the fall of man, which is the action he proposed to celebrate; and as for those great actions, which preceded, in The third qualification of an epic poem point of time, the battle of the angels, and is its greatness. The anger of Achilles was the creation of the world, (which would of such consequence that it embroiled the have entirely destroyed the unity of the kings of Greece, destroyed the heroes of principal action, had he related them in Troy, and engaged all the gods in factions. the same order that they happened) he Æneas's settlement in Italy produced the cast them into the fifth, sixth, and seventh Cæsars, and gave birth to the Roman embooks, by way of episode to this noble poem. pire. Milton's subject was still greater Aristotle himself allows, that Homer has than either of the former; it does not denothing to boast of as to the unity of his termine the fate of single persons or nafable, though at the same time that great tions; but of a whole species. The united critic and philosopher endeavours to pal- powers of hell are joined together for the liate this imperfection in the Greek poet, destruction of mankind, which they effectby imputing it in some measure to the very ed in part, and would have completed, had nature of an epic poem. Some have been not Omnipotence itself interposed. The of opinion, that the Æneid also labours in principal actors are man in his greatest perthis particular, and has episodes which fection, and woman in her highest beauty. may be looked upon as excrescences rather Their enemies are the fallen angels; the than as parts of the action. On the con- Messiah their friend, and the Almighty trary, the poem which we have now under their Protector. In short every thing that our consideration, hath no other episodes is great in the whole circle of being, whethan such as naturally arise from the sub-ther within the verge of nature, or out of it, ject, and yet is filled with such a multi- has a proper part assigned it in this admirtude of astonishing incidents, that it gives able poem. us at the same time a pleasure of the greatest variety and of the greatest simplicity; uniform in its nature, though diversified in the execution.

I must observe also, that as Virgil, in the poem which was designed to celebrate the original of the Roman empire, has described the birth of its great rival, the Carthaginian commonwealth; Milton, with the like art, in his poem on the fall of man, has related the fall of those angels who are his professed enemies. Besides the many other beauties in such an episode, its running parallel with the great action of the poem hinders it from breaking the unity so much as another episode would have done, that had not so great an affinity with the principal subject. In short, this is the same kind of beauty which the critics admire in the Spanish Friar, or the Double Discovery, where the two different plots look like counter-parts and copies of one another.

The second qualification required in the action of an epic poem, is, that it should be an entire action. An action is entire when it is complete in all its parts; or as Aristotle describes it, when it consists of a beginning, a middle, and an end. Nothing should go before it, be intermixed with it, or follow after it, that is not related to it. As, on the contrary, no single step should be omitted in that just and regular process

In poetry, as in architecture, not only the whole, but the principal members, and every part of them, should be great. I will not presume to say, that the book of games in the Æneid, or that in the Iliad, are not of this nature; nor to reprehend Virgil's simile of the top, and many other of the same kind in the Iliad, as liable to any censure in this particular; but I think we may say, without derogating from those wonderful performances, that there is an unquestionable magnificence in every part of Paradise Lost, and indeed a much greater than could have been formed upon any pagan system.

But Aristotle, by the greatness of the action, does not only mean that it should be great in its nature, but also in its duration, or in other words, that it should have a due length in it, as well as what we properly call greatness. The just measure of this kind of magnitude, he explains by the following similitude: An animal no bigger than a mite, cannot appear perfect to the eye, because the sight takes it in at once, and has only a confused idea of the whole, and not a distinct idea of all its parts; if on the contrary, you should suppose an animal of ten thousand furlongs in length, the eye would be so filled with a single part of it, that it could not give the mind an idea of the whole. What these animals are to the

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may see I am not accuser and judge myself, but that the indictment is properly and fairly laid, before I proceed against the criminal.

eye, a very short or a very long action would be to the memory. The first would be, as it were, lost and swallowed up by it, and the other difficult to be contained in it. Homer and Virgil have shown their prin'MR. SPECTATOR,-As you are spectacipal art in this particular; the action of the Iliad, and that of the Æneid, were in them-tor-general, I apply myself to you in the selves exceeding short, but are so beauti- following case, viz. I do not wear a sword, fully extended and diversified by the inven- but I often divert myself at the theatre, tion of episodes, and the machinery of gods, with the like poetical ornaments, that they make up an agreeable story, sufficient to employ the memory without overcharging it. Milton's action is enriched with such a variety of circumstances, that I have taken as much pleasure in reading the contents of his books, as in the best invented story I ever met with. It is possible, that the traditions, on which the Iliad and the Eneid were built, had more circumstances in them than the history of the fall of man, as it is related in scripture. Besides, it was easier | for Homer and Virgil to dash the truth with fiction, as they were in no danger of offending the religion of their country by it. But as for Milton, he had not only a very few circumstances upon which to raise his poem, but was also obliged to proceed with the greatest caution in every thing that he

added out of his own invention. And indeed, notwithstanding all the restraint he was under, he has filled his story with so many surprising incidents, which bear so close an analogy with what is delivered in holy writ, that it is capable of pleasing the most delicate reader, without giving offence to the most scrupulous.

The modern critics have collected from several hints in the Iliad and neid the space of time which is taken up by the action of each of those poems; but as a great part of Milton's story was translated in regions that lie out of the reach of the sun and the sphere of day, it is impossible to gratify the reader with such a calculation, which indeed would be more curious than instructive; none of the critics, either ancient or modern, having laid down rules to circumscribe the action of an epic poem with any determined number of years, days, or hours. This piece of criticism on Milton's Paradise Lost shall be carried on in the following Saturdays' papers.

No. 268.] Monday, January 7, 1711-12.
-Minus aptus acutis
Naribus horum hominum-

Hor. Sat. iii. Lib. 1. 29. -unfit

For lively sallies of corporeal wit. -Creech.

IT is not that I think I have been more witty than I ought of late, that at present I wholly forbear any attempt towards it: I am of opinion that I ought sometimes to lay before the world the plain letters of my correspondents in the artless dress in which they hastily send them, that the reader

plain people, by way of humour and frolic, where I frequently see a set of fellows pull by the nose, upon frivolous or no occasions. A friend of mine the other night applauding what a graceful exit Mr. Wilks made, one of those nose-wringers overhearing him, pinched him by the nose. I was in the pit the other night, (when it was very much crowded,) a gentleman leaning upon me, and very heavily, I very civilly requested him to remove his hand; for which he pulled me by the nose. I would not resent it in so public a place, because I was since reflected upon it as a thing that is ununwilling to create a disturbance; but have manly and disingenuous, renders the noseby the nose look little and contemptible. puller odious, and makes the person pulled This grievance I humbly request you will endeavour to redress. I am your admirer, JAMES EASY.'

*No. 261.

regardless of what kind of wives they take, | parson has lost his cloak," is not mightily they think riches will be a minister to all in vogue amongst the fine ladies this Christkind of pleasures, and enable them to keep mas, because I see they wear hoods of all mistresses, horses, hounds; to drink, feast, colours, which I suppose is for that purand game with their companions, pay their pose. If it is, and you think it proper, I debts contracted by former extravagances, will carry some of those hoods with me to or some such vile and unworthy end; and our ladies in Yorkshire: because they enindulge themselves in pleasures which are joined me to bring them something from a shame and scandal to human nature. London that was very new. If you can tell Now as for women, how few of them are any thing in which I can obey their comthere who place the happiness of their mands more agreeably, be pleased to inmarriage in the having a wise and virtuous form me, and you will extremely oblige friend? One who will be faithful and just your humble servant.' to all, and constant and loving to them? Who with care and diligence will look after and improve the estate, and without grudging allow whatever is prudent and convenient? Rather, how few are there who do not place their happiness in outshining others in pomp and show? and that do not think within themselves when they have married such a rich person, that none of their acquaintance shall appear so fine in their equipage, so adorned in their persons, or so magnificent in their furniture as themselves? Thus their heads are filled with vain ideas; and I heartily wish I could say that equipage and show were not the chief good of so many women as I fear it is.

'After this manner do both sexes deceive themselves, and bring reflections and disgrace upon the most happy and most honourable state of life; whereas, if they would but correct their depraved taste, moderate their ambition, and place their happiness upon proper objects, we should not find felicity in the marriage state such a wonder in the world as it now is.

Sir, if you think these thoughts worth inserting among your own, be pleased to give them a better dress; and let them pass abroad, and you will oblige your admirer,

'A. B.'

'Oxford, Dec. 29. 'MR. SPECTATOR,-Since you appear inclined to be a friend to the distressed, I beg you would assist me in an affair under which I have suffered very much. The reigning toast of this place is Patetia; I have pursued her with the utmost diligence this twelvemonth, and find nothing stands in my way but one who flatters her more than I can. Pride is her favourite passion; therefore if you would be so far my friend as to make a favourable mention of me in one of your papers, I believe I should not fail in my addresses. The scholars stand in rows, as they did to be sure in your time, at her pew door; and she has all the devotion paid to her by a crowd of youths who are unacquainted with the sex, and have inexperience added to their passion. However, if it succeeds according to my vows, you will make me the happiest man in the world, and the most obliged amongst all your humble servants.'

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T.

'MR. SPECTATOR,-I came to my mistress's toilet this morning, for I am admitted when her face is stark naked: she frowned and cried pish, when I said a thing that I stole; and I will be judged by you whether it was not very pretty. Madam," said I, 'MR. SPECTATOR,-As I was this day" you shall forbear that part of your dress; walking in the street, there happened to it may be well in others, but you cannot pass by on the other side of the way a place a patch where it does not hide a beauty, whose charms were so attracting, beauty.' that it drew my eyes wholly on that side, insomuch, that I neglected my own way, and chanced to run my nose directly against No. 269.] Tuesday, January 8, 1711-12. a post; which the lady no sooner perceived, but she fell into a fit of laughter, though at the same time she was sensible that she herself was the cause of my misfortune, which in my opinion was the greater aggravation of her crime. I being busy wip-knocking at the door, when my landlady's ing off the blood which trickled down my face, had not time to acquaint her with her barbarity, as also with my resolution, viz. never to look out of my way for one of her sex more: therefore, that your humble servant may be revenged, he desires you to insert this in one of your next papers, which he hopes will be a warning to all the rest of the women-gazers, as well as to poor

'ANTHONY GAPE.'

'MR. SPECTATOR,—I desire to know in your next, if the merry game of "The

-Evo rarissima nostro

Simplicitas-——

Ovid. Ars Am. Lib. i. 241. Most rare is now our old simplicity.-Dryden. I was this morning surprised with a great daughter came up to me and told me that there was a man below desired to speak with me. Upon my asking her who it was, she told me it was a very grave elderly person, but that she did not know his name. him to be the coachman of my worthy friend I immediately went down to him, and found Sir Roger de Coverley. He told me that his master came to town last night, and would be glad to take a turn with me in Gray's Inn walks. As I was wondering with myself what had brought Sir Roger

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