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the humor of the company. True modesty avoids everything that is criminal, false modesty everything that is unfashionable. The latter is only a general undetermined instinct; the former is that instinct, limited and circumscribed by the rules of prudence and religion.

We may conclude that modesty to be false and vicious which engages a man to do anything that is ill or indiscreet, or which restrains him from doing anything that is of a contrary nature. How many men, in the common concerus of life, lend sums of money which they are not able to spare, are bound for persons whom they have but little friendship for, give recommendatory characters of men whom they are not acquainted with, bestow places on those whom they do not esteem, live in such a manner as they themselves do not approve, and all this merely because they have not the confidence to resist solicitation, importunity, or example!

Nor does this false modesty expose us only to such actions as are indiscreet, but very often to such as are highly criminal. When Xenophanes was called timorous because he would not venture his money in a game at dice: "I confess," said he, "that I am exceeding timorous, for I dare not do an ill thing." On the contrary, a man of vicious modesty complies with everything, and is only fearful of doing what may look singular in the Company where he is engaged. He falls in with the torrent, and lets himself go to every action or discourse, however unjustifiable in itself, so it be in vogue among the present party. This, though one of the most common, is one of the most ridiculous dispositions in human nature, that men should not be ashamed of speaking or acting in a dissolute or irrational manner, but that one who is in their company should be ashamed of governing himself by the principles of reason and virtue.

In the second place, we are to consider false modesty as it restrains a man from doing what is good and laudable. My reader's own thoughts will suggest to him many instances and examples under this head. I shall only dwell upon one reflection, which I cannot make without a secret concern. We have in England a particular bashfulness in everything that regards religion. A well-bred man is obliged to conceal any serious sentiment of this nature, and very often to appear a greater libertine than he is, that he may keep himself in countenance among the men of mode. Our excess of modesty makes us shamefaced in all the exercises of piety and devotion. This humor prevails upon us daily; insomuch that, at many well-bred tables, the master of the house is so very modest a man, that he has not the confidence to say grace at his own table: a custom which is not only practiced by all the nations about us, but was never omitted by the heathens themselves. English gentlemen who travel into Roman Catholic countries are not a little sur

prised to meet with people of the best quality kneeling in their churches, and engaged in their private devotions, though it be not at the hours of public worship. An officer of the army, or a man of wit and pleasure, in those countries, would be afraid of passing not only for an irreligious, but an ill-bred man, should he be seen to go to bed, or sit down at table, without offering up his devotions on such occasions. The same show of religion appears in all the foreign reformed churches, and enters so much into their ordinary conversation, that an Englishman is apt to term them hypocritical and precise.

This little appearance of a religious deportment in our nation may proceed in some measure from

that modesty which is natural to us; but the great occasion of it is certainly this. Those swarms of sectaries that overran the nation in the time of the great rebellion carried their hypocrisy so high, that they had converted our whole language into a jargon of enthusiasm; insomuch that, upon the Resforation, men thought they could not recede too far from the behavior and practice of those persons who had made religion a cloak to so many villainies. This led them into the other extreme; every appearance of devotion was looked upon as puritanical; and falling into the hands of the ridiculers" who flourished in that reign, and attacked everything that was serious, it has ever since been out of countenance among us. By this means we are gradually fallen into that vicious modesty which has in some measure worn out from among us the appearance of Christianity in ordinary life and conversation, and which distinguishes us from all our neighbors.

44

Hypocrisy cannot indeed be too much detested, but at the same time it is to be preferred to open impiety. They are both equally destructive to the person who is possessed with them; but, in regard to others, hypocrisy is not so pernicious as barefaced irreligion. The due mean to be observed is, "to be sincerely virtuous, and at the same time to let the world see that we are so.' I do not know a more dreadful menace in the holy writings than that which is pronounced against those who have this perverted modesty, to be ashamed before men in a particular of such unspeakable importance.-C.

"

No. 459.] SATURDAY, AUGUST 16, 1712. -Quicquid dignum sapiente bonoque est. HOR. 1 Ep. iv. 5. -Whate'er befits the wise and good.-CREECH. RELIGION may be considered under two general heads. The first comprehends what we are to believe, the other what we are to practice. By those things which we are to believe, I mean whatever is revealed to us in the holy writings, and which we could not have obtained the knowledge of by the light of nature; by the things which we are to practice, I mean all those duties to which we are directed by reason or natural religion. The first of these I shall distinguish by the name of faith, the second by that of morality.

If we look into the more serious part of mankind, we find many who lay so great a stress upon faith, that they neglect morality; and many who build so much upon morality, that they do not pay a due regard to faith. The perfect man should be defective in neither of these particulars, as will be very evident to those who consider the benefits which arise from each of them, and which I shall make the subject of this day's paper.

Notwithstanding this general division of Christian duty into morality and faith, and that they have both their peculiar excellencies, the first has the pre-eminence in several respects.

First, Because the greatest part of morality (as I have stated the notion of it) is of a fixed eternal nature, and will endure when faith shall fail, and be lost in conviction.

Secondly, Because a person may be qualified to do greater good to mankind, and become more beneficial to the world, by morality without faith, than by faith without morality.

Thirdly, Because morality gives a greater perfection to human nature, by quieting the mind, moderating the passions, and advancing the hap piness of every man in his private capacity.

Fourthly, Because the rule of morality is much more certain than that of faith, all the civilized nations of the world agreeing in the great points of morality, as much as they differ in those of faith.

Fifthly, Because infidelity is not of so malignant a nature as immorality; or, to put the same reason in another light, because it is generally owned, there may be salvation for a virtuous del (particularly in the case of invincible ignorance), but none for a vicious believer.

when I see such dreadful consequences rising from a principle, I would be as fully convinced of the truth of it, as of a mathematical demonstration, before I would venture to act upon it, or make it a part of my religion.

In this case the injury done our neighbor is plain and evident: the principle that puts us upon doing it, of a dubious and disputable nature. Mo infirality seems highly violated by the one; and whether or no a zeal for what a man thinks the true system of faith may justify it, is very uncertain. I cannot but think, if our religion produces charity as well as zeal, it will not be for showing itself by such cruel instances. But to conclude with the words of an excellent author, "We have just enough of religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love, one another."-C.

Sixthly, Because faith seems to draw its prin cipal, if not all its excellency, from the influence it has upon morality; as we shall see more at large, if we consider wherein consists the excellency of faith, or the belief of revealed religion; and this, I think, is,

First, In explaining and carrying to greater heights several points of morality.

Secondly, In furnishing new and stronger motives to enforce the practice of morality.

Thirdly, In giving us more amiable ideas of the Supreme Being, more endearing notions of one another, and a truer state of ourselves, both in regard to the grandeur and vileness of our

natures.

Fourthly, By showing us the blackness and deformity of vice, which in the Christian system is so very great, that he who is possessed of all perfection, and the sovereign judge of it, is represented by several of our divines as hating sin to the same degree that he loves the sacred person who was made the propitiation of it.

Fifthly, In being the ordinary and prescribed method of making morality effectual to salvation. I have only touched on these several heads, which every one who is conversant in discourses of this nature will easily enlarge upou in his own thoughts, and draw conclusions from them which may be useful to him in the conduct of his life. One I am sure is so obvious, that he cannot miss it, namely, that a man cannot be perfect in his scheme of morality, who does not strengthen and support it with that of the Christian faith.

Beside this, I shall lay down two or three other maxims, which, I think, we may deduce from what has been said:

First, That we should be particularly cautious of making anything an article of faith, which does not contribute to the confirmation or improvement of morality.

Secondly, That no article of faith can be true and authentic, which weakens or subverts the practical part of religion, or what I have hitherto called morality.

Thirdly, That the greatest friend of morality and natural religion cannot possibly apprehend any danger from embracing Christianity, as it is preserved pure and uncorrupt in the doctrines of our national church.*

There is likewise another maxim which I think may be drawn from the foregoing considerations, which is this; that we should, in all dubious points, consider any ill consequences that may arise from them, supposing they should be erroneous, before we give up our assent to them.

For example, In that disputable point of persecuting men for conscience' sake, beside the imbittering their minds with hatred, indignation, and all the vehemence of resentment, and insnaring them to profess what they do not believe, we cut them off from the pleasures and advantages of society, afflict their bodies, distress their fortunes, hurt their reputations, ruin their families, make their lives painful, or put an end to them. Sure

*The Gospel.

No. 460.] MONDAY, AUGUST 18, 1712. Decipimur specie recti.-Hon. Ars Poet. v. 25. Deluded by a seeming excellence.-ROSCOMMON. OUR defects and follies are too often unknown to us; nay, they are so far from being known to us, that they pass for demonstrations of our worth. This makes us easy in the midst of them, fond to show them, fond to improve them, and to be esteemed for them. Then it is that a thousand unaccountable conceits, gay inventions, and extravagant actions, must afford us pleasures, and display us to others in the colors which we ourselves take a fancy to glory in. Indeed there is something so amusing for the time in the state of vanity and illgrounded satisfaction, that even the wiser world has chosen an exalted word to describe its enchantments, and called it "The Paradise of Fools."

Perhaps the latter part of this reflection may seem a false thought to some, and bear another turn than what I have given; but it is at present none of my business to look after it, who am going to confess that I have been lately among them in a vision.

Methought I was transported to a hill, green, flowery, and of an easy ascent. Upon the broad top of it resided squint-eyed Error, and Popular Opinion with many heads; two that dealt in sorcery, and were famous for bewitching people with the love of themselves. To these repaired a-multitude from every side, by two different paths which lead toward each of them. Some who had the most assuming air went directly of themselves to Error, without expecting a conductor; others of a softer nature went first to Popular Opinion, from whence, as she influenced and engaged them with their own praises, she delivered them over to his government.

When we had ascended to an open part of the summit where Opinion abode, we found her entertaining several who had arrived before us. Her voice was pleasing; she breathed odors as she spoke. She seemed to have a tongue for every one; every one thought he heard of something that was valuable in himself, and expected a paradise which she promised as the reward of his merit. Thus were we drawn to follow her, till she should bring us where it was to be bestowed; and it was observable, that all the way we went, the company was either praising themselves for their qualifications, or one another for those qualifications which they took to be conspicuous in their own charac ters, or dispraising others for wanting theirs or vying in the degrees of them.

At last we approached a bower, at the entrance of which Error was seated. The trees were thick woven, and the place where he sat artfully con.

trived to darken him a little. He was disguised in a whitish robe, which he had put on, that he might appear to us with a nearer resemblance to Truth; and as she has a light whereby she manifests the beauties of nature to the eyes of her adorers, so he had provided himself with a magical wand, that he might do something in imitation of it, and please with delusions. This he lifted solemnly, and, muttering to himself, bid the glories which he kept under enchantment to appear before us. Immediately we cast our eyes on that part of the sky to which he pointed, and observed a thin blue prospect, which cleared as mountains in a summer morning when the mist goes off, and the palace of Vanity appeared to sight.

punished for the words he had uttered. He appeared inclined to have spoken in his own defense, but I could not observe that any one was willing to hear him. Vanity cast a scornful smile at him; Self-Conceit was angry; Flattery, who knew him for Plain-Dealing, put on a vizard, and turned away; Affectation tossed her fan, made mouths, and called him Envy or Slander; and Fashion would have it, that at least he must be Ill-Manners. Thus slighted and despised by all, he was driven out for abusing people of merit and figure; and I heard it firmly resolved, that he should be used no better wherever they met with him hereafter.

I had already seen the meaning of most part of that warning which he had given, and was considering how the latter words should be fulfilled, when a mighty noise was heard without, and the door was blackened by a numerous train of harpies crowding in upon us. Folly and Broken-Credit were seen in the house before they entered. Trouble, Shame, Infamy, Scorn, and Poverty, brought up the rear. Vanity, with her Cupid and Graces, disappeared; her subjects ran into holes and corners; but many of them were found and carried off (as I was told by one who stood near me) either to prisons or cellars, solitude or little company, the mean arts or the viler crafts of life. "But these," added he with a disdainful air, "are such who would fondly live here, when their merits neither matched the luster of the place, nor their riches its expenses. We have seen such scenes as these before now; the glory you saw will all return when the hurry is over. I thanked him for his information; and, believing him so incorrigible as that he would stay till it was his turn to be taken, I made off to the door, and overtook some few, who, though they would not harken to Plain-Dealing, were now terrified to good purpose by the example of others. But when they had touched the threshold, it was a strange shock to them to find that the delusion of Error was gone, and they plainly discerned the building to hang a little up in the air without any real foundation. At first we saw nothing but a desperate leap remained for us, and I a thousand times blamed my unmeaning curiosity that had brought me into so much danger. But as they began to sink lower in their own minds, methought the place sunk along with us, till they were arrived at the due point of esteem which they ought to have for themselves: then the part of the building in which they stood touched the earth, and we departing out, it retired from our eyes. Now, whether they who stayed in the palace were sensible of this descent, I cannot tell; it was then my opinion that they were not. However it be, my dream broke up at it, and has given me occasion all my life to reflect upon the fatal consequences of following the suggestions of Vanity. "MR. SPECTATOR,

The foundation seemed hardly a foundation, but a set of curling clouds, which it stood upon by magical contrivance. The way by which we ascended was painted like a rainbow; and as we went, the breeze that played about us, bewitched the sepses. The walks were gilded all for show; the lowest set of pillars were of the slight fine Corinthian order, and the top of the building being rounded, bore so far the resemblance of a bubble. At the gate the travelers neither met with a porter, nor waited till one should appear; every one thought his merits a sufficient passport, and pressed forward. In the hall we met with several phantoms, that roved among us, and ranged the company according to their sentiments. There was decreasing Honor, that had nothing to show, but an old coat, of his ancestor's achievements. There was Ostentation, that made himself his own constant subject, and Gallantry strutting upon his tiptoes. At the upper end of the hall stood a throne, whose canopy glittered with all the riches that gayety could contrive to lavish on it; and between the gilded arms sat Vanity, decked in the peacock's feathers, and acknowledged for another Venus by her votaries. The boy who stood beside her for a Cupid, and who made the world to bow before her, was called Self-Conceit. His eyes had every now and then a cast inward, to the neglect of all objects about him; and the arms which he made use of for conquest, were borrowed from those against whom he had a design. The arrow which he shot at the soldier, was fledged from his own plume of feathers; the dart he directed against the man of wit, was winged from the quills he wrote with; and that which he sent against those who presumed upon their riches, was headed with gold out of their treasuries. He made nets for statesmen from their own contrivances; he took fire from the eyes of ladies, with which he melted their hearts; and lightning from the tongues of the eloquent, to inflame them with their own glories. At the foot of the throne sat three false Graces: Flattery with a shell of paint, Affectation with a mirror to practice at, and Fashion ever changing the posture of her clothes. These applied themselves to secure the conquests which Self-Conceit "I write to you to desire, that you would again had gotten, and had each of them their particular touch upon a certain enormity, which is chiefly in polities. Flattery gave new colors and complex- use among the politer and better-bred part of manions to all things; Affectation new airs and appear-kind; I mean the ceremonies, bows, courtesies, whisances, which, as she said, were not vulgar; and Fashion both concealed some home defects, and added some foreign external beauties.

As I was reflecting upon what I saw, I heard a voice in the crowd bemoaning the condition of mankind, which is thus managed by the breath of Opinion, deluded by Error, fired by Self-Conceit, and given up to be trained in all the courses of Vanity, till Scorn or Poverty come upon us. These expressions were no sooner handed about, but I immediately saw a general disorder, till at last there was a parting in one place, and a grave old n an, decent and resolute, was led forward to be

perings, smiles, winks, nods, with other familiar arts of salutation, which take up in our churches so much time that might be better employed, and which seem so utterly inconsistent with the duty and true intent of our entering into those religious. assemblies. The resemblance which this bears to our indeed proper behavior in theaters, may be some instance of its incongruity in the above-mentioned places. In Roman Catholic churches and chapels abroad, I myself have observed, more than once, persons of the first quality, of the nearest. relation, and intimatest acquaintance, passing by one another unknowing, as it were, and unknown,

and with so little notice of each other, that it looked like having their minds more suitably and more solemnly engaged; at least it was an acknowledg. ment that they ought to have been so. I have been told the same even of the Mahometans, with relation to the propriety of their demeanor in the conventions of their erroneous worship; and I cannot but think either of them sufficient laudable patterns for our imitation in this particular.

I cannot help upon this occasion, remarking on the excellent memories of those devotionists, who upon returning from church shall give a particular account how two or three hundred people were dressed; a thing, by reason of its variety, so difficult to be digested and fixed in the head, that it is a miracle to me how two poor hours of divine service can be time sufficient for so elaborate an undertaking, the duty of the place too being jointly, and no doubt oft pathetically, performed along with it. Where it is said in sacred writ, that the woman ought to have a covering on her head because of the angels,' that last word is by some thought to be metaphorically used, and to signify young men. Allowing this interpretation to be right, the text may not appear to be wholly foreign to our present purpose.

"When you are in a disposition proper for writing on such a subject, I earnestly recommend this to you: and am,

T.

"Sir

"Your very humble servant."

No. 461.] TUESDAY, AUGUST 19, 1712. -Sed non ego credulus illis.-VIRG. Ecl. ix. 34. But I discern their flatt'ry from their praise.-DRYDEN. FOR want of time to substitute/something else in the room of them, I am at present obliged to publish compliments above my desert in the following letters. It is no small satisfaction to have given occasion to ingenious men to employ their thoughts upon sacred subjects, from the approbation of such pieces of poetry as they have seen in my Saturday's papers. I shall never publish verse on that day but what is written by the same hand:# yet shall I not accompany these writings with eulogiums, but leave them to speak for themselves. 66 "FOR THE SPECTATOR.

"M3. SPECTATOR,

"You very much promote the interests of virtue, while you reform the taste of a profane age; and persuade us to be entertained with divine poems, while we are distinguished by so many thousand humors, and split into so many different sects and parties; yet persons of every party, sect, and humor, are fond of conforming their taste to yours. You can transfuse your own relish of a poem into all your readers according to their capacity to receive; and when you recommend the pious passion that reigns in the verse, we seem to feel the devotion, and grow proud and pleased inwardly, that we have souls capable of relishing what the Spectator approves.

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Upon reading the hymns that you have published in some late papers, I had a mind to try yesterday whether I could write one. The cxivth psalm appears to me an admirable ode, and I began to turn it into our language. As I was describing the journey of Israel from Egypt, and added the Divine Presence among them, I perceived a beauty in this psalm, which was entirely new to me, and which I was going to lose; and that is, that the poet utterly conceals the presence of God

Addison.

in the beginning of it, and rather lets a possessive pronoun go without a substantive, than he will so much as mention anything of divinity there. Judah was his sanctuary, and Israel his dominion or kingdom.' The reason now seems evident, and this conduct necessary; for, if God had appeared before, there could be no wonder why the mountains should leap and the sea retire; therefore, that this convulsion of nature may be brought in with due surprise, his name is not mentioned till afterward: and then with a very agreeable turn of thought, God is introduced at once in all his majesty. This is what I have attempted to imitate in a translation without paraphrase, and to preserve what I could of the spirit of the sacred author.

"If the following essay be not too incorrigible, bestow upon it a few brightenings from your enius, that I may learn how to write better, or to write no more.

Your daily admirer, and humble Servant," eto

PSALM CXIV.

I.

When Israel, freed from Pharaoh's hand,
Left the proud tyrant and his land,
The tribes with cheerful homage own
Their King, and Judah was his throne.
II.

Across the deep their journey lay,
The deep divides to make them way,
The streams of Jordan saw, and fled
With backward current to their head.

III.

The mountains shook like frighted sheep,
Like lambs the little hillocks leap;
Not Sinai on her base could stand,
Conscious of sov'reign power at hand.

IV.

What power could make the deep divide? Make Jordan backward roll his tide? Why did ye leap, ye little hills?

And whence the fright that Sinai feels!

V.

Let every mountain, ev'ry flood,
Retire, and know th' approaching God,
The King of Israel! See him here:
Tremble, thou earth, adore and fear.

VI.

He thunders-and all nature mourns; The rocks to standing pools he turns; Flints spring with fountains at his word, And fires and seas confess their Lord.*

"MR. SPECTATOR,

"There are those who take the advantage of your putting a halfpenny value upon yourself above the rest of our daily writers, to defame you in public conversation, and strive to make you unpopular upon the account of this said halfpenny. But, if I were you, I would insist upon that small acknowledgment for the superior merit of yours, as being a work of invention. Give me leave, therefore, to do you justice, and say in your behalf, what you cannot yourself, which is, that your writings have made learning a more necessary part of good-breeding than it was before you appeared; that modesty is become fashionable, and impudence stands in need of some wit, since you have put them both in their proper lights. Profaneness, lewdness, and debauchery, are not now qualifications; and a man may be a very fine gentleman, though he is neither a keeper nor an infidel.

"I would have you tell the town the story of the Sibyls, if they deny giving you two-pence. Let them know, that those sacred papers were valued at the same rate after two-thirds of them were destroyed, as when there was the whole set. There

By Dr. Isaac Watts.

are so many of us who will give you your own price, that you may acquaint your non-conformist readers, that they shall not have it, except they come in within such a day, under three-pence. I do not know but you might bring in the Date Obolum Belisario' with a good grace. The witlings come in clusters to two or three coffee-houses which have left you off; and I hope you will make es, who fine to your wit, merry with their characters who stand out against it.

"I am your most humble Servant." "P. S. I have lately got the ingenious authors of blacking for shoes, powder for coloring the hair, pomatum for the hands, cosmetic for the face, to be your constant customers; so that your advertisements will as much adorn the outward man, as your paper does the inward." T.

No. 462.] WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 20, 1712.
Nil ego prætulerim jucundo sanus amico.

HOR. 1 Sat. v. 44.

Nothing so grateful as a pleasant friend. PEOPLE are not aware of the very great force which pleasantry in company has upon all those

ably condescend to soothe our humor or temper, finds always an open avenue to our soul; especially if the flatterer happen to be our superior.

"One might give many instances of this in a late English monarch under the title of The Gayetics of King Charles II.' This prince was by nature extremely familiar, of very easy access, and much delighted to see and be seen; and his happy temper, which in the highest degree gratified his people's vanity, did him more service with his loving subjects than all his other virtues, though it must be confessed he had many. He delighted, though a mighty king, to give and take a jest as they say; and a prince of this fortunate disposition, who was inclined to make an ill use of his power, may have anything of his people, be it never so much to their prejudice. But this good king made generally a very innocent use, as to the public, of this ensnaring temper; for, it is well known, he pursued pleasure more than ambition. He seemed to glory in being the first man at cockmatches, horse-races, balls, and plays; he appeared highly delighted on those occasions, and never failed to warm and gladden the heart of every spectator. He more than once dined with his good citizens of London on their lord-mayor's day, with whom a man of that talent converses. His and did so the year that Sir Robert Viner was faults are generally overlooked by all his acquaint-mayor. Sir Robert was a very loyal man, and if ance; and a certain carelessness, that constantly you will allow the expression, very fond of his attends all his actions, carries him on with greater sovereign; but what with the joy he felt at heart success, than diligence and assiduity do others for the honor done him by his prince, and through who have no share of this endowment. Dacinthus the warmth he was in with continual toasting breaks his word upon all occasions both trivial and healths to the royal family, his lordship grew a important; and, when he is sufficiently railed at little fond of his majesty, and entered into a for that abominable quality, they who talk of him familiarity not altogether so graceful in so public end with," After all, he is a very pleasant fellow." a place. The king understood very well how to Dacinthus is an ill-natured husband, and yet the extricate himself in all kinds of difficulties, and, very women end their freedom of discourse upon stole off and made toward his coach, which stood with a hint to the company to avoid ceremony, this subject, “But after all, he is very pleasant company." Dacinthus is neither in point of honor, ready for him in Guildhall yard. But the mayor civility, good-breeding, nor good-nature, unexcepliked his company so well, and was grown so tionable, and yet all is answered. "For he is a very intimate, that he pursued him hastily, and, catchpleasant fellow." When this quality is conspicuing him fast by the hand, cried out with a veheous in a man who has, to accompany it, manly and virtuous sentiments, there cannot certainly be any. thing which can give so pleasing a gratification as the gayety of such a person; but when it is alone, and serves only to gild a crowd of ill qualities, there is no man so much to be avoided as your pleasant fellow. A very pleasant fellow shall turn your good name to a jest, make your character contemptible, debauch your wife or daughter, and yet be received with the rest of the world with welcome wherever he appears. It is very ordinary with those of this character to be attentive only to their own satisfactions, and have very little bowels for the concerns or sorrows of other men; nay, they are capable of purchasing their own pleasures at the expense of giving pain to others. But they who do not consider this sort of men thus carefully, are irresistibly exposed to their insinuations. The author of the following letter carries the matter so high, as to intimate that the liberties of England have been at the mercy of a prince merely as he was of this pleasant character:

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ment oath and accent, Sir, you shall stay and take t'other bottle.". The airy monarch looked kindly

at him over his shoulder, and with a smile and graceful air (for I saw him at the time, and do now) repeated this line of the old song:

He that's drunk is as great as a king; and immediately returned back, and complied with his landlord.

"I give you this story, Mr. Spectator, because, as I said, I saw the passage; and I assure you it is very true, and yet no cominon one; and when I tell you the sequel, you will say I have a better reason for it. This very mayor afterward erected a statue of his merry monarch in Stocks-market,* and did the crown many and great services; and it was owing to this humor of the king, that his family had so great a fortune shut up in the exchequer of their pleasant sovereign. The many good-natured condescensions of this prince are vulgarly known; and it is excellently said of him by a great hand which wrote his character, that he was not a king a quarter of an hour together in

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It is this passion alone, when misapplied, that lays us so open to flatterers: and he who can agree-moment."

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