Remarks ON THE HUMOURS AND Conversations OF THE TOWN.  
Written in a Letter to St. T. L.  
LONDON, Printed for Allen Banks, at the sign of St. Peter at the West end of St. Paul's. 1673.   

TO THE READER.  
THou hast often, without doubt Reader, heard of a sort of despised Animals, called Country-Gentlemen: if thou frequentest the Playhouse, thou hast there seen us brought in with a high-crowned Hat, a Sword put through the waist-band of our Breeches, and a pair of antic tops; where we tamely stand, whilst the learned man of Humours practices upon us with his sleights, and intrigues. And if thou usest the company of the Wits, thou knowest that we furnish them with their most pleasant entertainment. Nay, if the Poet out of an excess of his bounty, is inclined to refresh the company with an extraordinary treat of Humours we are the men with whom he composes the Regalio; where he swells and looks big, to see the success of his victorious Stratagems. We should be glad that our Masters the Poets can make any use of us considering our unpolisht and rough capacities; but in the mean time they must take it kindly from us if we advise some of them also, to look well to their own glory, and to appear less ridiculous themselves, lest they should become the scorn of their own vassals. They cannot take it ill from us, if we desire a little to pry into those admirable things for which they are so much admired; the humour of our climate Abandons that Eastern State, of demanding adoration to powers wrapped up in Clouds. We have taken the boldness to approach the Heroes, and to examine their Genius; which in many of them, we find not only the most wild and extravagant, but the most idle and trifling that ever bestrid an Age. And certainly either Historians have been much to blame, in recommending to us a pompous name of Virtue, Glory, and Renown, acquired by our Ancestors, making that appear noble and useful to mankind, which was dull and rude, or else their Children have nothing in them worthy of their Fathers: In things so different and unlike, either they, or we must strangely have miscarried; and this we must say in favour of those that lived before us, that what they did was gravely and silently, but the acquists of this Age, are made with a strange affectation and noise; our smallest performances creating in us more pride, than their mighty achievements did in them, and swelling us to a contempt of all those who are not at leisure to appear as ridiculous as ourselves. The following paper cannot be accused of doing injustice to any, since all are obliged to give the liberty they take: and as for the rest, since it does not reflect on particular men, the Author might with reason expect that good nature from them, which they extend to comical entertainments; all are content to be taken to pieces in a Playhouse; and to be exhibited for divertisement on the Stage; which are much unkinder reflections than are made in this paper. Besides, since we have to do with nothing but blemishes and errors, the Laws of writing allow those to be insisted on, for the admonishing of others. What could be done less than to reckon up the ordinary follies of the Town life, to a person who we desired should value the innocence and manliness of a Country one. We have too great a kindness for our Relations, to desire that they should that way aspire to be Heroes; but that they should rather reserve themselves for fairer occasions of acquiring glory. Our rural affairs, and innocence, afford us that employment, that we are not at leisure to mind the Towns treatment of us; and if we might in the Country but be free from the communication of their Vices, we should easily resign them all our pretences to their renown and pleasures: 'tis not an envy of their Grandures, transports us to make remarks on their way of living, nor their Drolleries on us, that excite us to revenge, they are an unequal match for us to encounter; one stab of a Sonnet, would be mortal to the little sense we have acquired; and we only remonstrate to others, and not presume to find errors in such laboured Editions of their great capacities. And we besides, know the vanity of affronting the Darlings of Fame; and we rather sit down with a submission to the capricio of her fancy, than endeavour to reclaim her feminine humour: we would prevent her from aggrandizing any of our friends with favours worse than infamy; and we wish so well to her Heroes, that they may triumph alone in their excess of felicity: yet if there should come a time that she might discard them, we desire not to step into their fortune; and only wish that they who next share in her esteem, may be the Authors of more benefits, and good Offices to mankind, than her present Minions have been: but if she continues in the same humour, we cannot but pity those who come after us, that will through the mists of so much vanity, see less clearly the glory and renown of former Ages; and feel at a greater distance, a less force from that emulation.  
I do not speak this, as if the Town were not abundantly furnished with persons of both sexes, that are excellent in their Generations both for understanding, good Government, and Virtue; but still these fair endowments are rather blessings to themselves than examples to others, for they live private and to their own Consciences, whereas vice and vanity walk bare-faced; and the Mode and humour of the times (how corrupted soever) passeth for the standard of Wit and good Company.   

IT was, Sir, both with trouble and surprise, that I received from my Lady, your resolutions of going to spend some years in London; and that, not only through the compassion I have, for the affliction you will thereby bring to so affectionate and tender a Mother; but also a real pity, to see you expose qualities of so much innocence and virtue, to the revenous and devouring Vices of the Town. I know by a long experience in that place that the life of a young Gentleman led there, is for the greater part vicious, sottish, and profane, and not only degenerated below the precepts of ancient gallantry and generosity; but beneath that prudence, so briety, and discretion, which ought to be found in all who pretend to manhood England, that first took its Vices from the bordering Nations, has now outdone them; and by its over-apeing humour, exceeded the pattern of its crimes; Whilst France formerly esteemed the most fantastic Country of the Universe, has of late rescued itself from some of its follies, and bequeathed to us those Vices of which it is now grown ashamed; and we are become the more trifling and effeminate Nation of the two, and the place you go to visit, is the intoxicated and giddy head of all these Vanities. The education you have hitherto had amongst your friends, has been agreeable to the ancient Precepts of nobleness, generosity, and virtue, but when you come to the Town, you must be told that these things are set formalities, and out of Mode, and not suitable to that careless and undesigning way of living now in use; careless and undesigning with a witness! Which owes its Epithets to the neglect of all virtue, and the blind impetuosity of humour: their way of living is now removed out of the Road hedged in by the prudence and justice of our Ancestors; and acknowledges no course inglorious and irregular: the admired wit to which they pretend, and in which they so much triumph, is of so hot a mettle, that it has leaped the Fence of Ages, and takes its wild carrear over all the Enclosures of the Universe; and it is now on so fierce a speed, that where it will stop, even Astrology can-cannot assure us. Our Ancestors deserved the fame of a better management, who considered equally, their own satisfaction, and the good of the world, and in that practised a moderation, which freed humane affairs from those inconveniencies and surfeits they suffer from their Children. To be serious and to be wise, was a reputation great enough to them, and they coveted not the triumphs reaped from the heights of frenzy and madness: the Town was then a place of better education, and its conversation was manly, accomplished and innocent; and a Gallant then visiting the Country, came furnished with something more excellent than a bundle of Sonnets, bringing with him, from the fountain of the refinedst conversation, a richer sense than was sung at the corner of every street: yet this is the advantage they communicate to us now, affording us only the knowledge of those trifling things, which we esteem our felicity to be without; whilst yet they are pleased to value themselves highly on such a sufficiency, and to despise us for being defective in those accomplishments; and yet these Gentlemen thirst after the fame of Heroes, & extraordinary men. The real advantages then which you propose to yourself, Sir, are nothing important in that sort of life, whilst the inconveniencies will be very considerable: it is necessary you should think on what you abandon in quitting the Country, which yet are advantageous things, if you will put yourself to the trouble of reflecting on them.  
You have just reason to believe, and you have the vogue of the world, to concur with you in such an opinion; that all the accomplishments of Womankind, are to be found in your excellent Mother; her great wit, her prudence, her port and manner of living, rendering herself, & her house most considerable. And though there is usually that awe imprinted on us by the severities of education, as makes us desire to spend our youth far from our Parents, out of a love of childish liberty and frolics; yet my Lady's carriage to you, has still been attended with that sweetness, and prudence, as perfectly to overcome an unpleasant obsequiousness in you: it is true her discretion would not permit her to indulge you in any vicious liberties, like those fond and imprudent Mothers, who think they cannot show their love enough to an only Son, unless they comply with all their extravagancies; and consider them always as Children that must have their wills, so losing betimes that authority, and respect, which the ill-educated Boy has never after grace enough to acknowledge: and then, like some sort of Lovers, they please themselves in their own kindness; and in supporting the neglects of their children, with a patience truly a reproach to their dignity and duty: my Lady has loved your accomplishments in Virtue, and excellent qualities too well, to permit you an extravagant liberty; but yet she did these things, with a sweetness and an air, that demonstrated at the same time the pleasures of her conduct. She considered that you were her only Son, but yet she did not from such a reflection, become presently of the opinion, that she could not appear fond enough of you, nor with too much freedom let you know the pleasure she took in you; but with greater wisdom and generosity, she thought it her duty, to endeavour to make appear in you, the virtue and the hopes of many Sons; well knowing, that a wild Liberty (usually the effect of a declared fondness) would have been the reproach of your family and of her conduct: and that it would have been worse to have you live with so much infamy, (what ever the Age may discourse to the contrary) than to bury you with the universal compassion and grief, paid to the death of a hopeful Gentleman. Moreover she considered, tha● a Mother is a stranger assumed into a Family; and tha● she is on that score to discharge the trust she stands obliged in to that Race; she is not to gratify her particular fondness, but to govern herself by the glory and the interest of a name: so that any just severity in a Mother, is no● to be looked upon as her peculiar resentments, but he respect to that Duty she stand obliged to perform. I remind you of all this, Sir, because you are now arrived to an Age of consideration, and to invite you to reflect on the grand obligations you have to my Lady, for her manner of educating you; in which you will see a little ingratitude, in being opposite to her desires of keeping you with her; let the Humourists of this Age talk what they please, of the height of Spirit, and the gallantry of despising the Regiment of a Mother; they must show us a greater advantage they make of that liberty, than lying perpetually in Playhouses, Taverns, and Whore-houses, before we can agree to their extravagant sentiments: neither is it my Lady's fondness of keeping you with her, so much as her fear of having you debauched, which now perplexes her; she would willingly spare you for any glorious or advantageous adventures; if it were for the service of your Prince, or the defence of your Country, she would blush to withhold you from pursuing such noble erterprises, and she had rather lose you to the world, than to your Virtue, and the true glory of your Ancestors: but she fears the Vices of the Town, more than the Arms of an Enemy; and the slavery of those Humours, worse than the Fetters of a Conqueror. She would rejoice to see you stick fresh Laurels in the Garlands of your Ancestors, and she would freely abandon you to those fields where you might gather them; but what Bays you are like to purchase in Town, or what perfections you are like to learn there, which may be truly enobling to a Gentleman, cannot possibly be made appear to her. But, Sir, if you believe that all this stands on a childish punctilio of gratitude, and a fondness of your Parent, that would make you ridiculous to the Heroes of this Age; you will find other things capable of detaining you in the Country.  
It is agreed by all, that, though conversation is a great felicity, and solace to Humane nature, yet that a life partly of that, and partly of leisure and retiredness, is most suitable to the affairs and interests of men. I speak not this (though I very well might) upon the account of what we own to Religion; and we have found many of the greatest Monarches, and the Administrators of Regal affairs, when they came to die, to complain of the hurry and the bustle of those occurrences, that kept them from considering any thing of a life, to which all the interests of this appear but a shadow, and nothing, I say, I shall not so much present you with this, as those real advantages that occur to the accomplishment of men, by a due leisure & serenity: I know that Philosophy, is so far out of credit in this Age, that if I should present you with any thing out of that old profession, you would so far comply with the present Humour, as to despise me for a Pedant: but I hope that a just reason, is not at the same time obliged to suffer by the Janty nonsense of the Town.  
As our thoughts are the first images of our actions, so after they have lived in that condition, and been perfected by them, the fading beings, fall back again to the root from whence they grew; where like our separated minds, they live in pleasure, or in pain; the delight, or torment of reflections, being the Manes of past actions. And without doubt, many of the greatest performances of the world, were as much directed to the pleasures of remembrance, as they were to the pleasures of action. We find in the Empire of Rome, how many prodigious difficulties, dangers, and toils were overcome by their Captains, only for the Fame and Glory of Triumph; it cannot be imagined, that the lustres of a day, could become a sufficient motive to such painful actions; but there must be a great deal ascribed to the contentment of considering it before it arrived, and the prospect of those pleasant reflections, that might be made when it was passed; which were without doubt, as considerable, as were found in the acclamations of Rome, and the chariot of Triumphs: and the retirements of many famous men, from the noise of those affairs, in which they had lived, might be in some, for the pleasures of reflecting on what was passed: and though the degrees of such felicities, are enjoyed only by those, who have had the same proportion of generous erterprises, yet the young, and unexperienced, are not wholly destitute of such a pleasure; the reviews of their own virtuous actions, may give them content; since all things of this nature, are measured by the Capacity, and the extent of the knowledge; and he is happy in a little, that has not the Ideas of greater to converse with. Besides, there is the great delight, of seeing former Ages in the glasses of History: a prospect that also instructs at the same time that it pleases: there we may behold the beginning, flourishing and fading of Kingdoms; the rise, and fall of illustrious Personages; the transactions, occurrences, and intrigues of all Nations and affairs, appearing in the Oratory, and remarks of some men, with a greater pleasure than the prospect of such things could possible have given us. Action is but rude and imperfect in respect of the beauty, and life it receives from the accounts and embellishments of History; and we may easily see more of a past Age, in the memoirs are transmitted of it, than we can of the present by having an interest in some of its actions: he that stands on high, takes a more perfect account of an agreeable show, than he that makes one of the Train: nay, I will venture to say further, that though there wants the action, and the life, yet there is in this, the pleasures of the best conversation; which is divertisement, and instruction: what can more please us, than to understand, how some men, from an obscure beginning, have reached all the heights of glory and renown: and how others again, born with the greatest pretences, have through variety of fortunes, descended down to the lowest conditions of men: to read the divers adventures of courage, beauty, and wit, and through how many scenes of various actions, they have conducted their Pretenders. To observe how many obstacles have been overcome by a persevering ambition; and yet at the same time, how the shock of a slight accident, has overthrown the industry of many years. To perceive the success of an intrigue, walking with a Masque in inquisitive Courts; which yet the dexterity and art of the Conductor, conveys unknown through all the Examiner's. He that observes diligently, will find a great delight, in perceiving how some vast Empire, has at first, (like budding flowers) sprung out of the Earth; when being continually blessed with the Sunshine of success, and watered with fresh and vigorous Counsels, it has spread itself in so vast a Dominion, as to shade all the neighbouring Kingdoms; when at the same time, some petty Cabal, (like little worms at the root) bring a languishment and fading over all its glories. Neither do these studies instruct at a less rate than they delight; they enable us to give a judicious opinion of present transactions; they fill the mind with the most excellent and generous Ideas; and they become moreover the true admonishers of the frailty of all. Those, Sir, who celebrate perpetual action, and reproach study, with drowsiness and idle sloth, ought themselves to be exercised in very advantageous business, since he that does nothing to the purpose, either of his own virtue, or the advantages of mankind, is guilty of a greater idleness than the imperial fly-catcher could be reproached with. It is study that is the best Principle of conversation; without which, it cannot be furnished with a just capacity to please; 'tis strange to observe, how these great men of action, talk with a confidence equal to their Ignorance; who understand nothing but what is uttered in the company they keep; where their faithful memories, preserve all new and gentile words, but their dark Souls penetrate nothing into the worth of the harangue; which makes them perpetually hunt for company, because they know not what to do when they are alone; except it be to practise a new Dance, or a modish Bow; all the business this Person has with former Ages, is to damn their old fashions, whilst he extravagantly celebrates the easiness of the new garniture: he that pretends to understand any thing beyond it, (in the opinion of most of them) is an affected Pedant, and of a rough and unpolisht conversation. I writ not this, Sir, as if I loved a noise of learning, and laboured discourses; but it is necessary a Gentleman should understand something above the Breeches.  
If we pass from this point, Sir, to the divertisements of the Country; you will find them innocent and manly, and much for the preservation of your health, and the vigour of your mind; when you delight in the fierceness of a Horse, and pursue the Deer, you are busied in a nobler course, than if you were hunting a little Wench. You have besides variety of other sports, along the beautiful footcloths of Nature: and when you are wearied with them, you will spend more sweetly the moments of repose; though you went to bed, without the triumphs of having worsted the Watch in your return from a Tavern, or of having at the head of a couple of Footboys, bravely attacked a Troop of Glass-windows, that stood embattled as you passed to your lodgings; or of having beat up the Quarters of some Bawd, who commanded a Squadron of Wenches. You will sleep well enough without the memory of such exploits, and never miss their Ideas to form you glorious dreams: instead of them, you may have the satisfaction not to have lost a good quantity of Guinies to a common Rook; nor to have played away a Lordship in an hour. In short, Sir, here you have the best air, the most manly divertisements, the most innocent (and yet not foolish) company, which much contribute to your health, and the festivity of your Senses.  
There is one thing too, of which it will be necessary to mind you, and that is what you own to Posterity, and the continuance of your Family; as you are an only Son, my Lady presses you to Marry; she has proposed to you a Lady, illustrious for her fortune, beauty, and youth; and in whose conversation, (besides the advantageous effects) you may meet with more agreeable divertisements, than in the caresses of those whom you make love to with money: had not custom made it gallantry in a Gentleman, it would have appeared ridiculous, to spend a considerable part of a good Estate, upon her who perhaps Jilts you in a month or two; and bestows those favours on another for inclination, which she forces herself to allow to you for her interest: this is found in considerable Mistresses of the Town, though the vanity and self flattery of some men is so great, as to make them believe there is that power in their worth and caresses as to conquer the sovereignty of fancy; and is it not then, Sir, more agreeable to a manly temper, (if there were no virtue in the action) to possess in an innocent Consort, that sincerity, which is never to be found in a Mistress? Those who undervalue those contentments, should at the same time show their neglect of them in the whole Sex of Woman kind; but to hear the most effeminate and lascivious Age of the world, mock at the virtuous felicities of Love, is a thing worthy of scorn and contempt. Moreover, your resolutions are to marry, to continue your Family, and is it not better to do it now, whilst you are uncorrupted, than to present to your Lady (of a sweet and blooming youth) a body harassed with vicious Loves, and perhaps, infected with innumerable distempers: this will not only be an odious ingratitude to her, but a grand miscarriage to Posterity; who may through some Generations, feel the smart of your Vices.  
In fine, Sir, the just care of your Estate, aught to have some place in your resolutions. A young Gentleman, whose prudent Father has left him a round sum of ready money, thinks he is obliged, by that sort of tenure belongs to such an Estate, to throw most of it away extravagantly; as if Nature had established that necessary variety, that the Parent who lays up, must have a Son to spend it: methinks it is so pleasant a sight, to see a young Gentleman return home to his Country, after some years spent in the Town, with one third of his Estate cut off, or impounded by the Scrivener; and all the purchase he has made, with so fair a portion of Fortune, is but a couple of Songs, or'a French Dance; a confident affectation to Swear without fear or wit, or to despise those who cannot name so many considerable Whores in the Town as himself. We have Sir, often been run down with these blustering Hectors, who think, that the modish nonsense which they bring from London, should be more valued than the civility and agreeableness of rural conversation. But we shall find enough of this sort of Gallantry, in examining the pleasures and entertainments of the Town.  
Well then, Sir, if you neglect these considerations, we will see what there is in that Town so much to be doted on; when you come first thither, you will find yourself in a little distress; because though you may possibly understand as much of true sense, and good breeding as most of them, yet you will be at a loss, because the fashion there consists not in any thing that is real, but in odd terms, and fantastic Ideas; in a round of words, and strange punctilios of action: certain it is, that all things we do, are shaped by those Ideas and Images that have the ascendant of our minds; and all our good as well as ill actions are agreeable to such Ideas; so that you must diligently compare those with which you are now furnished, with them that govern the Gallants of the Town. You have hitherto believed, that your liberality and munificence, your sincerity to your Friend, the civility and sweetness of the address, with your moderation and justice, were most excellent qualities in a Gentleman; you have accordingly lived to them, and have in their practice obtained an universal love and esteem; but with your pardon, Sir, you must believe other things to be more excellent, or at least strangely regulate these, or pass for nothing considerable with those Magnificoes If when you come into company, you are not able to give a piercing judgement of some admirable passage in the Prologue of the last Play; if you cannot discourse on the intrigues of famous Wenches, & deliver your own amorous achievements in the bluntest lascivious terms; ●f you cannot mock at Virtue and prudence with a mean of scorn and contempt, you will not be able to keep company with those Heroes. It is true, there are some Juntoes of Gallants, that will admit you of their society; if you can but Discourse tolerable of good Wine, of dressing and the Mode of your habiliments; if you can deliver a pretty good judgement of a new Tune, or a French Dance; if you will be a companion with them at a Play, and at the other divertisements of their lives, which are Women and Wine; if you are able to do those things, you are accomplished enough for them, and they require not of a Novitiate so great a capacity, and such mighty undertake as the grander societies; for they penetrate into nothing more desperate than the outside; nor covet a higherfame, than of (as they call it) honest and good natured Gentlemen. But you must not live so peaceably in the society of the other, they are men that are ruled by the Ideas of great and generous actions: it is true, Eloquence is part of their business, but yet it is inferior to their Love of Arms. It is confessed that they are men of wit enough, and it is not to be denied but that there is great generosity in them; for they pretend to value persons for their worth, and hate a fop, though he spreads himself in a great many Titles, or stands mounted on half a score Manors; they are courteous and obliging to their inferiors, desiring no ceremonies to be paid to their acquirements, and grandeur, showing as little to those who expect it; they are always in humour, and in short, if they were not so fatally corrupted, they are perfectly practised in all the arts of the most obliging conversations. Thus far they have drawn Virtue right, and hitherto they have merited the glory of extraordinary men; but yet, though they have given society so delicate a shape, they have yet put to it a Face truly ugly and horrid: nay there are found among these men, the most fatal Ruiners of so many excellent qualities which the world laments the loss of; neither have they been satisfied with their own liberties, but a strange ambition transports them, to give Laws to the Universe, and to overturn the old Regiment society: I find celebrated in a late Printed Discourse, the sufficiency of an excellent Poet, to instruct Mankind in the most important points they ought to believe, whilst at the same time, the Author mocks at the dullness of a heavy and Phlegmatic Gown-man, as being uncapable of such a task; but though people may make such things the subject of their Discourse, yet I did not imagine any necessity of telling it to the world; because to make good such pretences, they must excel the endeavours of many Ages, and practise an industry that agrees not with their pleasures. I must confess I was a little surprised at this passage, not only as it shown a strange neglect of all others but the Poets; but also, as it was an atttempt of great vanity to lessen the respect is paid to distinguished Professions. We will allow them to be adored by their own Society, but they cannot so easily overcome the sentiments of mankind: it is yet a pretty self-flattery that we find amongst some men, who believe that the affairs of the Universe are so trifling and so much at leisure, as to stop themselves to take a concernment in their affectations: He replied handsomely and smartly, on the great but affected Orator of Rome, who demanded of him, (meeting him in his return home) what was the vogue of Rome concerning him, and his management of affairs; to whom he answered, where hast thou been all this while, O Tully? Intimating by that feigned ignorance, that Rome was a place so continually crowded with glorious occurrences, that the worth and the sufficiency of one man, was but like an undistinguished drop, in that bright Abiss of noble actions; so whilst the world finds the benefit of its present regiment, it is not at leisure to listen to what is offered it to the contrary, though with the greatest Eloquence, and art. But, Sir, I know not how to dismiss this Subject with these short remarks; and I must entertain you a little longer upon it. The Age has already allowed them the Title of excellent, and they might have spared it in their own writings: had any but one of themselves, practised that odd sort of civility, of showing their Readers the way to the apartments of their worth and merit, they had immediately been conveyed to the Stage, and there severely lashed in Comedy. But all things are handsome in those we admire; besides it is found, that such a sort of assurance, has a peculiar pleasing address, whilst Modesty sits behind all the caresses of this Age. They would raise Poesy, (especially Dramaticque) to that perfection, as to be capable of Governing all the generous, noble, and accomplished thoughts of mankind: what they may do for the time to come, I am not able to say; but what they have already performed, comes short of the justice of such pretences. How much their art, reckoning them Dramaticques, (for under that character they love to be esteemed) has been rather an inconvenience, than an advantage to the world, any of their heavy Corrivals may make it appear. And since they are become the Idolaters of the Heathen Virtue, we may see how uncapable they are of the conduct of Nations, only professing Virtue. Let them tell us, if they please, what Ages of Roman bravery were inspired from the Stage; or at what memorable times, their glorious Eagles took their flights by the rules of a Drama: such easy representations were then, (as Farces are now in France) for the Rout and Plebeians, whose ignorance made them uncapable of spending more advantageously their vacations from the wars. But the noble Youth were continually perfecting in fields, or in the other affairs of the Commonwealth, the characters of manly glory; in which they acquired and exercised a Virtue, too boisterous and robust for the Poetic Pen to manage; and if any of them built magnificent Theatres, it was only to beget an admiration of their greatness amongst those, who were uncapable of understanding the advantages and dignity of their Virtue. And we remember moreover, that a great Captain was forced to shut up the Theatres of his Confederates, to oblige them to defend their Patrimonies, which yet they did like men who had learned War from the Stage: and such things by the witnesses of all records, had never an Universal love and esteem, but in effeminate and trifling Ages. But to look nearer into their pretences; the great thing in which they triumph, is an Heroic Play; which yet is imperfect in that Virtue of which they boast: they have made the three grand characters of a Hero, to be Love, Honour, and Friendship; but to what fantastic heights they have raised these is apparent in their Poems. They have made Love to be the hot passion of an hour; tried by Chymaerical and odd experiments; unpracticable to the World, and rather an Idea fit to misguide the leisure and the sentiments of Youth, than capable of giving any just assistance to the occasions of Life: he that pretends to instruct, is not to celebrate the things that happen, but the things that ought to be. Their Honour consists in an obstinacy to combat necessity and time; in maintaining the feiry ground of Fame; to vanquish Reason and generosity in the contempt of life; gathering the spreading glory of a Hero into a single punctilio. This is their Honour, as much Chymaerical as their Love. Neither is their Friendship less idle, whilst it consists in resigning an adored Mistress in becoming the confident o● amours; or a Knight Erran● pursuing the capricio of an other; a serving up the courage of a friend to those fantastic heights, where we can dare to perish with him. I cannot imagine what the world has to do with such Ideas, only proper for that Elysium, so much the Idol of their Poetry. Moreover, there is to be observed the confusion and defects in their Precepts: Poetic Love (according to the rules of their own Art) can happen to no Hero but once in his life, and for all the rest of his years he remains untaught; the Poet interposes critically whilst he has an Amour in his head, but he abandons him unworthily, when he should perfect the characters of highest glory: he teaches him to strut and bluster, and to speak half a dozen Verses when he dies, but he guides him not at all in the Labyrinths of difficult affairs. He tells him what is true Honour, on the fantastic point he stands; but he cunningly omits to guide his mind on the bright traverses of a public good: he is busy about youth, whilst the Regions of Manhood and of Age are left without a path, or any tract of Virtue and Renown: when the Gallant is weary of living like a Beast, when he has finished the Love and the Atheism of his youth, the Poet has left a dark space before him, without the light of any precept or instruction. But all their Heroes must die when they are young, or live ingloriously when they have finished their youthful Intrigues. Besides, were their Heroic Virtue perfect, it could concern but a few persons in a Nation, whilst all the lesser Scholars must remain untaught: what is left for them but the idle intrigues of Farce and Comedy; filled with impertinences, and the most loathsome Vices; and if they pretend to instruct by this, it must be by the rules of contrary: Certainly never any that undertook so important a conduct, discharged it with less generosity and fidelity. And in fine, if we may judge of the cause by the effect, we shall find that manner of censure very disadvantageous to their art; where are the Heroes they have fashioned by their Precepts? What proofs do we receive of that Virtue with which they have inspired them? I wish we had no reason to complain of the contrary, and that the Grossness of their Dramaticque Vices were not a burden heavy to the world; instead of teaching them to burn like Heroes, they have made them love like beasts; and all the industry of the Stage, has helped them to nothing more refined in that passion, than what is common to the Goat, and the Bull. Ye mighty Directors of our Virtue! do ye not blush to see the dullness of your Scholars? and lament to find so much perverseness, in times when there flourish such able ●oets? You throw away ●our glorious Precepts, whilst ●ou talk of Heroickness, to ●n impertinent and grovelling Generation. Or is it, Sir, con●●ary to their inclinations that ●hey writ Heroic Poems; whilst a Poetic fury carries them to celebrate those Ideas. which they repent of, and ●ecant in a lose Comedy: ●nd without doubt they as well understand the capacity of the Age, as their own ●umour in such actions: if ●hey did not, they would never talk so unprofitably to them as they do; for wha● benefit are they like to receiv● from such trifling instructions, as correct writing with out the preposition at the en● of a Verse, or the niceties o● Grammar, as if a Hero were to speak with that exactness as if he stood in fear of a Firula. Moreover, what is it o● moment to the instruction o● this Age, whether Achilles drew his whinyard at Agamemnon▪ or whether Rinaldo endangered with his, the homespun Breeches of Godfrey of Boulogne; what does this signify to the practical Virtue of Gentlemen? Those who take upon them to form the Genius of an Age, are to consider what is useful, and like to occur, and they ought to decline Ideas, that fly too high for practice and experience; such ●airy perfections, like Romances, may fill the head with chimaeras; but they can ●ill be the Directors of action, which is the beauty and the life of Precepts. Besides, all prudent managers of public sentiments, are to consider, that in such Draughts they must exhibit to after times, what they will admire and imitate, or what they will explode and scorn; for he is too short sighted, who only accommodates his Precepts, to the easy and the vicious humour of an Age, and forms not that, which must endure the shock of an impartial and severe Posterity: and I believe some of our Poets imagine that the inconveniencies of their present instructions, will be so sensibly prejudicial to the next Age, as to make them abhor the fatal intrigues of this; who will besides, have reason to mock at those sleight draughts of Virtue, and those airy thin perfections, which will be exceeded by the least reality: if they say that this is not required from a Poet whose part is to please; we answer; That it is from a Philosopher, and from those who pretend to direct whole Generations. And since they have raised their ambition to the universal Monarchy of wit, it becomes them to invent a Regiment, suitable to that character; and not expect with a few Poems to command all the Regions of Learning. Or is it not so much their desire to rule, as to destroy? Is it their ambition, (like his that burnt the Temple of Diana) to be known the Authors of the ruin of those excellent principles which so many Ages have honoured and revered; and to proscribe all Virtue, Sobriety, & ancient honour; as if a man were to build his reputation on the quicksands of vicious & inglorious practices; esteeming it a weakness worthy of reproach, to be moderately wicked, or to boggle at an impiety, whose degrees are hardly to be matched in Hell ● Some there are who by such prodigious accomplishments, having gotten great and admired names, become the Patrons, and Darlings of the Youth, who willingly sacrifice their early Virtue, their Interests, and the repose of their Family, to their mighty reputations; and think it enough to make them wear the Title of wits for ever, if they but be admitted to drink, and swear, with their glorious Masters. But I now grow weary, Sir, of taking a farther account of such actions, which yet they have not more failed in, than in the principles of the best prudence. And those who debauch and effeminate Nations, may be pleasing, but they can never be wise and generous Directors: they argue strangely who affirm, that it is necessary for some times to be laid to sleep, free from the thoughts of Virtue and glory, thereby to bury faction and sedition; since nothing can be more the security and renown of just and excellent Princes, than the manliness and gallantry of their Subjects. Moreover, it is a double indiscretion, to soften and charm our Youth with luxuries and pleasures, so near the best grounded Ambition of Europe; degenerating the ancient Virtue of the English, whilst others are brightening and illustrating of theirs: thus to misguide so considerable a part of the Universe, only for the Fame of having the conduct, is what an excellent Poet has no reason to glory in; whom we must allow to excel in his way, though with no justice to claim to his Art, the directing of Ages. Neither can I imagine, what should transport them to assume so painful a Dominion over all the Provinces of Learning; 'tis not agreeable to the delicacy of their living, to be troubled with the affairs of so vast an Empire: they had better leave it to that Administration under which it then appropriate it as the task of that vivacity and fancy, which like the Gallicque briskness is quickly tired. But I have kept you too long, Sir, in this consideration; I will lead you to the conversation which is sometimes found amongst those persons, whose pretences are so haughty: and who live in great neglect of their own Ideas; contradicting in their lives, what they magnify and extol in their Poetry: I will not say it of that Person whom we just now mentioned; but we can too truly affirm it of many of that Art.  
The first great subject of their entertainments is Atheism; which is not now owned with a blush, but on the contrary, esteemed a piece of gallantry, and an effect of that extraordinary wit in which we pretend to excel our Ancestors: the great principle of these sentiments, is matter of strange opinion about the Creation of the World; some following Aristotle, others Epicurus. Those who imagine that the world did never begin, have took the belief from the imperious Stagerite, rather out of an unknowing admiration of his name, than any just reason that has accompanied the assertion: for to what reason can it pretend; or how is it likely, that the World was Eternal, when the memory of all things are but of Yesterday! (for to Eternity, the small portion of time Recorded, merits no larger a name) how has it come to pass, that so many thousands of Ages should leave no Records behind them, nor no Monuments of all they did, nor all they had designed to do: the most ancient accounts that are produced, except by the Jews, are the Thaeban War: and the great Funerals of Troy, (actions of times easily computed:) and which if they are not fabulous, they appear at least ridiculous in the Records of the Poets. But how is it likely, that Eternity should be the Parent of nothing more ancient, nor more considerable in that vast flux of Ages, many great Empires must have rose, flourished, and declined; many useful and excellent Arts must have been invented, and practised; and many just, as well as bloody Laws, must have been established and executed. Some man or other, in so many births, must have been so considerable for his Virtue, and his grand Actions, as to leave at least his name, and some dark stories of his deeds, from one Age to another. Some Tyrant for barbarous and inhuman cruelties, must have been so odious and so much detested, as to have left a hateful memory and name to after times: but the good, and the bad, have been equally forgotten; and neither ambition, greatness, valour, riches, nor beauty, had then the advantages they have since acquired, of perpetuating the memory of their owners: this great silence of all things, but what stand so ●ear the present Ages, is a most convincing proof of the World's Creation, and of its Creation not very long ago. The other opinion, though it is most embraced by this Generation, yet it is so ridiculous, that a man of reason should be ashamed to own it. which affirms, that several Troops and Parties of Atoms, (raised first by an unknown Commission) after they had ranged the field of an infinite space, did at last under the conduct of chance alone, (for they allow no greater a cause to have commanded in the morning of the Universe.) rendezvous in a most glorious and beautiful World; that so many pieces of such admirable workmanship, so many businesses, and so many offices, of the beginning, maintenance, and preservation of all the kinds of life, had no other cause but an undesigning impetuous chance: yet this opinion, as ridiculous as it is, is become the principle of their grandest debauchments; on which they Discourse with so much liberty, and bluntness, as is the astonishment of serious persons. But they equally hate that modesty in Learning, which they do in Love; and they strive to have their Souls equally debauched as their Bodies; hazarding the one in all opinions, as the other with all exploits. A Virtuous person how ever ought to be careful of the innocence of his mind; lest there may, nay there will, come a time, when he must want those tranquillities: which is moreover, no sleight admonition for our wits, especially since some of them (like Caligula) are Atheists only in fair weather.  
Their next great entertainment is Marriage, which they treat most ingloriously, affirming it to be the clog of generous minds; and the greatest impediment to the ambition of Heroes: they believe mankind has suffered in nothing more, than in the restraints and captivities of Wedlock; and that no freedom ought to be more dear to his nature, than wild and rambling Lusts. They think the World took ill advice, when it abridged itself of so sweet a pleasure, by yielding to an Institution, that so much dulls and baffles the Spirits; and though they are themselves the issue of these Beds, yet they cannot believe but their constitution had been much more sprightly and generous, if they had been born by a Mistress; and that their inclinations had been more elevated and high to great undertake: they believe that without doubt, the Crescents of the Ottomans, had before now been filled up with blood, and slaughters, if there had been such a generation born into these parts of the World; and that their arms had succeeded as fortunatly as those of the Macedon. What ever was the belief of their Fathers, they resolve to give the World the proofs of a better judgement, and a braver Soul; which makes them scoff at Wedlock, priding themselves in their own freedom; and with a scornful pity, despising the Captives of that state: they esteem no man ridiculous in the Town, but the votary of Matrimony; and he that happens to be so of their own Fraternity, if he does not sigh under that yoke, if he does not curse the folly of his nature, that betrayed him to so grand a slavery, they discard him as unfit for their conversations: and indeed they have found persons ridiculous enough to do as they would have them; to whom they represent, that the slighting of the pleasures of Marriage, is a greatness of Soul, that scorns to be imposed on; but that the pursuing variety of amours, is the peculiar gusto of a great wit: for that is a principle from which they must not recede, that all their extravagancies, are not only the pleasing of their Humours, but inseparable proofs of extraordinary capacities: they must believe that it was an effect of their Fineness and Dexterity, to bring wenching into so great an esteem, and that nothing less than their Industry and Arts, could have laid Matrimony under so much reproach, as the present Age does find it, this is their business, in their converses, the Play House, and all their entertainments; where if they have occasion to represent to the Gallants a Comical fop, they make him one who is wheadled into Matrimony. Vain and trifling Politicians! whom the World has so much reason to thank for the advantages you procure it, what shall it do with your sentiments? except unravel the richest embroideries of ancient generosity and prudence; and make all its affairs as ridiculous as your practices; do you desire it should be so half-wited, as for your allurements to betray the charge of so many Ages? But yet, Sir, the progress they have already made is very deplorable; the contempt of Wedlock in the Town grows very common; and we have reason to accuse the great managers of that Humour: they would do well to satisfy us, either what nobleness, what gratitude, or wisdom they can ascribe to their practices; they are very rude and disobliging to a considerable part of the Universe; and offer mankind a great affront. They are strangely respectful to their Fathers, who lived in an Age better qualified; and who conveyed them hither in the circles of that despised Wedlock: had they not stood on the foundations of blood, and fortune, but been forced to have rose by their industry and merit, the World had possibly looked upon them with contempt, in a low Sphere. And then how do they discharge the character of wise managers? Without doubt, Marriage is the foundation to times occurrences, and the principle of excellent affairs; and if this fountain should be fatally corrupt, it would injure considerably, all the advantages that flow from it: for if any Generation should come into the World promiscuously, all things would be unsorted and mixed, and the claims of ennobled Virtue, Blood, and possessions must be made unsuccefsfully; all things must begin again, or yield to such a disorder and confusion, as would soon involve the most flourishing Nations in ruin and distractions: thus what the prudence and the industry of many Ages, had form into a peaceful, and a happy Regiment, thereby rendering the succession of Family's tranquil and secure, would be broken and disordered, and the Parent can leave to hi● children only the adventure of an uncertain condition and that Family that wa● Rich, Potent, and esteemed mixing its blood inconsiderately, loses insensibly those advantages; and he that would raise Monuments of excellent things, must not only begin anew, but leave them unfinished when he dies; for i● he has clubbed to the uncertain issue of a Harlot, yet they can pretend no right in the grandeurs of their disputed Fathers; and no glory, reputation, and virtue would be perfect, whilst it has only the assistances of one Age, and those discouraged by the consideration of their decay: thus in the Ottoman Empire, whilst the greatest Minister has conveyed nothing to his children, through all their successions, there remain no Monuments of ancient virtue, greatness, or power, whilst the children are not permitted ●o inherit any of the acquists of their Fathers: and he that is took up to the highest places of Honour, and command, considers not that he is to bear himself suitable to the Fame, and Virtue of his Ancestors; nor that he is to leave the same dignities and reputation to his children, but he lives unjustly, carelessly, and voluptuously, and is only intent on his present satisfaction: and the same it would be in various enjoyments, and the neglects of Marriage; from which appears the imprudence of those who pretend to instruct this Age: and we have reason to believe, that either some extraordinary event must interpose to vindicate such excellent affairs, or else they are still to decline, till they mingle ruins with the Universe: those, Sir, who think these Remarks trifling, consider not the strange progress of Vices; for though it is chief amongst persons somewhat above the vulgar, that Marriage is ingloriously treated, yet those distempers will descend from the noble parts, as fast as the capacities of instruments can convey them down: as we see it has been already in prodigious Swearing, and other crimes. And were not wisdom and nobleness strangers to this Age; those who pretend to the fairest endowments of the mind, would never practise the greatest follies of it: I cannot imagine what they would do with that wild liberty they endeavour to introduce; 'tis a strong sort of levelling they wish to see in the World; and there needs a great eloquence to make appear the benefits it would receive from it: hitherto we have dreaded it as a Torrent that would quite overflow the fairest enclosures of humane nature; and we cannot perceive their own ability to stem that Tempest: but they care only for the present; and think not themselves at all obliged to look after the interests of the world. All that can be said to these men, is, that if their forefathers had been of their Temper, they might now have been Barbers, or Grooms, or left to the Parish, who pretend to fairer Titles.  
The next great subject of their Discourses, is the dishonours of Women; those whom they have not overcome with their addresses, they will be sure to conquer with their tongues; and hardly leave an honest Woman in the Town: they are so charitable to think, there never was any such, but those who lived solitarily, and were never attacked by a powerful Courtship; and they particularly attribute want of these successes to the undexterous Assaulter; but they know not how to believe, that where any so redoubted as themselves, laid siege to a Woman, that she was ever able to withstand the force of their caresses: This is a thing that makes up a great part of their devertisement, to recount their particular victories; which perhaps to oblige posterity, they are so kind as to record them in some lascivious Songs: and indeed to give them what they call their due; they obtain too many conquests of this nature; as it is not to be expected otherwise, from an assiduity and an industry great as theirs. But yet, with their favour, it favours but little of good breeding, or good nature, (for higher considerations are nonsense to them) to reap the effects of another's easiness or kindness, and then to spread it in every company; whilst none but those persons who are strangely vicious, can delight in that society, where nothing but the dishonours and scandals of Women are constantly repeated; which besides the subject, is done in a language so innocent, modest, and ingenious, that it is strange such great wits, should delight in so barren conceptions: they pretend to admire the soaring, and refinedness of the fancy, but I know never a Ploughman, but might deliver himself with as much variety of imagination, as they do upon these subjects: and were it not for that strange pleasure, they find in exceeding the prescriptions of virtue, and modesty, and in scorning the limits are set to the extravagancies of men, they would blush themselves at such a sort of ingenuity: I do believe, that never in any Age, was there such a violent and universal thirst after the Fame of being wits, and yet no Age has possible discharged itself, with less real applause in those pretences; wit, though it be properly the vivacity, and the agreeableness of the fancy, yet there ought to belong something more to that high quality, than a little flash and quibble, which yet is all that this Age has bid for that mighty Fame: and it is not to be questioned, but that the next generation, will be at a loss to find out that wit of which their Fathers so much boasted: we affect the beautiful trimming of foreign words; the youth, and pleasantness of the fancy, but the subject is contemptible on which this dress is bestowed; which with time wearing sullied and out of Mode, nothing will appear so ridiculous as that unvalued subject; of which we may say, as the Poet did once of the Woman; that it is the least part of itself. Besides, when they are witty, they are always beholding to Monsieur; in which they equally discredit themselves, and their Nation: to place wit in a Mode of words, is little commendation to the fancy of him that wears it; a sufficient quantity of these words are used every day by a blockhead, whilst yet they penetrate into the nature of nothing, but like Arrows shot into the Air, fall idly back upon the Earth: and then their Nation is little beholding to them, whilst they undervalue its ancient, and unaffected language: I cannot but think, that our Ancestors understood themselves as well as we do, and spoke as much to the content and pleasure of those they entertained; who yet larded not their Discourses with ends of French; they were careful of the true glory of English men, to justify the Dominion of their Language, equal to the Dominion of their Seas: methinks our Nation blushes, and appears out of countenance to see itself neglected; whilst the leight Gallia receivs all the Courtships of its ungrateful youth, and it has reason enough for a just indignation; whilst it is done with the perverting of a better Genius; and a rendering that fantastic which was before serious and manly. As every thing which is natural is the most handsome, so it is free from the follies of affectation; and as much as we have studied to Ape the French, we have yet only reached that perfection as to be ridiculous: besides, they look upon us as a Nation to whom they give the Laws of Mode; and presently ravish with transports from them, the smallest trifles they are pleased to countenance: this is a great pride to them, whilst they see themselves to preside over our Genius, and to guide it into all the fashions which their rambling fancies take. The Spaniard (though affected enough in this way) yet in this understands his reputation; whilst having disputed with them for the universal Monarchy, scorns to truckle under the Laws of their Mode; and sullenly keeps to a fashion of some hundreds of years, rather than to appear inclined to the lightness of his neighbours. But it were better to let them command our dresses, than our Language; because these are to be altered by time, whilst the other should be left pure and unblemished to posterity; from whom we betray the glory of our Fathers. This aught to be the principle concernment of the wits; because as they guide the inclinations of the youth, so they are capable of delivering themselves sweetly and pleasantly, in the native beauties of our Language; and can render their conceptions lovely, without the paint and embellishments of France: 'tis they must rescue our captived Language from the fetters of that Tongue: which would be more generous in them, and procure them a greater Fame, than to make their boast (as I know some of them do) that he cannot write well in our Language, who understands not the French. It is no wonder to hear a Fop, pride himself in store of French words; because his memory is all the fountain of his sense; but it is not so with the Poets, who pretend to the most elevated and most refined notions. I speak not this, Sir, out of a disrespect to that Language; highly necessary to all that frequent Courts; and that have to do in the important affairs of the world: but yet, where that and our own Language dwell together in the same capacity, like the currents of the Savas, and Danubius, they should never mix in all their conversations.  
But, Sir, I have kept you long enough in these considerations. You may now justly expect something to divert you. Let us then compare some of the ordinary Town Adventures, and Exploits with the sentiments before mentioned; and indeed, it is their actions that will be most capable of transporting you to a glorious emulation; for though the sweetness and the beauty of Discourse, is a thing very enamouring, yet action is the darling of youth, and of a sprightly disposition: Rome found its old men business for their Eloquence, in rescuing distressed Clients, and in appeasing the disorders of the people; but the youth were continually busied in the Wars, and generous achievements; and indeed all Nations, have esteemed wit, of a second venture to Arms: now, Sir, if you have this ambition about you, you shall not fail of meeting in the Town with strange satisfactions. There are men, who begin not the day till noon; the morning affording the sweetest sleeps, and the pillow being the best place to take Counsel on, for the adventures of the evening: that of the Playhouse is the first Stage, where they can support the repetition of an old Play, if they can but make Love to a new Beauty: they come not hither to learn wit, for they preside over the Language of the Stage: but they come like true Knights Errand, in search of adventures; and their Humours are so much allied to the Romance, that they can do nothing without the Distressed Lady; where if any thing heightens their appetite, and pleases their fancy, by the little sleights of a Masque, or some pretty stratagem, they become eager of the Quarry, and apply themselves to all the arts of that Game: but their principal business in this House, is to meet their Friends, and to join themselves in a Squadron for some gallant exploit: which perhaps is first at a House of pleasure, and then the French House; where having repeated their former gallantries, and heightened their courage, with eloquence and Wine, they are fit to gather fresh Bays for the Garland of their triumphs; and to add a new lustre to their former actions. In these brave Humours, has many a Watchman been forced to measure his length upon the ground; the poor Constable been put beside the gravity of his Interogatories;— Many a timorous Female has been forced to fill the air with shrieks, and complain: whilst during this close engagement, the thundering Cannon of their Oaths, have with horror filled the neighbourhood: and when they have obtained such victories as these, lest they should not find an Historian capable of Recording to the life, their noble performances, they are committed to the Pages of a Sonnet: whilst our Gallants, like the Roman, conquer and write at the same rate; and indeed to such a courage, such an eloquence is necessary; lest the life and vigour of their actions should languish in the dullness of ordinary Styles. It is, Sir, to such dreadful things as these you must be bred, if you covet such company; they cashier all that are faint hearted, or unfit for the Wars, or that have not a body capable to endure the Discipline, and toils of their Camp: to be a great wit, is but an imperfect qualification, for they associate with none for speculative pleasures: and esteem him ignoble, who dares not act at the rate he can dictate: which has been found in the fortune of some modern wits, who have been neglected, because unfit for exploits: so that if you would join yourself to the conversation of these Gallants, you must well examine your sufficiency and courage for the highest achievement. There is moreover, another task belongs to him that accompanies with them; and will pass for a wit in the Town, that is, you must write a Play: which is a kind of fantastical necessity imposed by fashion on a Gentleman, who is obliged to hazard his abilities, on such niceties of Fame, & Humour: the case is not the same with him as with a mercenary Poet, who ventures for his gain, & not like a Hero, whom the desire of glory allures to write: the first can support a miscarriage, not only through necessity, but also by the advantages of getting money: but the other, according to the chymaerical rules of their honour, aught to dispatch himself with his own unfortunate Pen, which has so ill served the interests of his glory, and blush to survive so shameful an overthrow: he that performs any thing of this nature, ventures at the first rank of wits; and to gain the highest steps, where this Age has mounted its ambition: but he that is unsuccessful in the attempt, falls down with the greater precipitancy amongst ordinary men; and not only loses his hopes, but his former standing, in the division of wits. Which has been found in some of the endeavours of our times; where those that have passed for the greatest wits, venturing on the Stage have discharged themselves so ill in their pretences, that the world will by no means allow them what they formerly possessed; & are moreover grown suspicious, that amongst those they name for the greatest wits, there is that same barrenness and dullness, with which they reproach inferior men; he that has got the reputation of a wit, aught to maintain it by suspicion, and not expose too much of that quality to pitiful censures; since he that writes, puts himself on the ordinary trial of his Country; but he that utters only in Juncto's and Cabals, stands alone to the trial of his Equals. Who are not to judge by the general Laws of wit, but by the principles of their own honour, that is their allowed Humour. So that both your wit and your Person, Sir, must run equal hazards in your joining with these men. There are some it is true, not only of a more peaceable temper, but also less ambitious of wit: but there is nothing amongst them, that will be high enough for the emulation of a Country Gentleman: their business is, to make long addresses to a Mistress, or to sit till midnight at a Tavern: where they talk judiciously of some new piece of wit that goes about the Town; or the fortune of the Poets: to value themselves by their ability to dress well; and their quick intelligence of a new Mode: they will entertain you with long wound and ridiculous stories of their amorous successes; they will find fault with the sitting of your Periwig, or the way you have in managing your : and though to follow the fashion of conversation, they will speak with Encomiums on the wits, yet they damn all sense and understanding, where the man is not adored, but in that case they are forced to truckle under the Laws of Fame. And now, Sir, if you should pass from this Gentleman who pretends to do nothing; and seek for a friendship amongst men of affairs; you would yet miss of what you sought; there being nothing amongst them agreeable to an indifferent person. If you go to the Inns of Court; where you will hear the distresses of Clients; with the murmurs of those who continually solicit a capricious, or a sullen Justice: amongst men who are busied with these concernments, the Idea of conversation is commonly very Pedantic, and unpolished; and in Truth, not worthy of a Gentleman; where men study not so much, things noble and generous, but the arts of paliating wrong, of defeating and deferring right. With what pleasure could you seek the friendship of a mighty Clerk, who having a head crowded with Records & Statutes, sits drowsily brooding over unjust causes, with the wretched satisfaction of tiring out, by pedantic stratagems, the Votaries of justice; endeavouring to draw Clouds on Sunbeams, and to hang those mists on truth, that it shall wander in the clearest evidences: forcing his conscience, tamely to truckle under the love of money, and of Fame. Certainly this man can have nothing in him agreeable to the principle of Nobleness, found in a Gentleman: neither if you should stand off from his endearments, would his indifferent conversation afford you any contentment; whilst he might entertain you with a long story of his industry in causes; with honourable Encomiums of the wise speeches of his Judges; a blind admiration of those who have wit enough to get a great deal of money; with the factions of the Bar; and the rise of famous Pleaders; and such unprofitable Harangues which signify nothing to an indifferent Person, who is not interested in that manner of Life. If, Sir, you address yourself to the younger men of those Societies, you will find many of them to have only just so much of the gallant humour as serves to make them singular, if not ridiculous; whilst they are the idle Imitators of those things they cannot come up to: if you have a mind to divert yourself, you may behold in them, just matter for such an entertainment; whilst you shall see them manage the affected strut, and their half-moded garniture: hear them speak in the phrases of a Play, (that modish sort of canting) and becoming the Insurers of their own glorious adventures: they damn all things but the extreme niceties of humour; and even scorn the Learning of their own Society, whilst they extol the magnanimities of a Bravo: they pride themselves in their amours to a Sempstress; and in swearing like those who keep company with the wits: nay you must take their oaths for their wit; for they believe their profuseness that way, a sufficient proof of their being furnished with that quality: but with all this noise they know little of that address, of which they are the fond Idolaters. This is to be understood, only of the vain, the imperfect, and the half-witted part of them. For these societies are, otherwise, the Nurseries of men of great abilities, and Virtues.  
I believe I have said enough, Sir, to divert you from seeking a friendship amongst those men. In these distresses, I presume you will not apply yourself to the Merchant, whose business is Profit, and Interest; without any design upon the Improvement of arms, letters, or conversation.  
I cannot imagine, Sir, that you will seek lower for a society. But yet I have omitted one sort of men, where you will be confident of being relieved, and they are the new Philosophers: here indeed it were the highest injustice to say you should be deceived; whilst they have given out themselves to have done so much for the advancement of Knowledge; and seem to have obtained a victory over it, with the same celerity as Caesar did, who only saw and overcame. It is under their conduct that learning has made such famous acquists, whilst they have led it victorious through the glorious Regions of the Sky; through the shady Empire of the Main; carrying its Arms so far on the Continent, as to strike its Ensigns to the Centre of the Earth; giving it so absolute and so entire a victory, that it may now, like the ambitious Youth, lament the scarcity of Worlds. This, Sir, is the sum of their pretences, and what they proclaim; but you will be a little surprised, when you shall find them so long grovelling in mechanics: and pinioning with those meaner arts, the mind, which so many Ages had used to happy flights: causing such a noise about the infirm foundation laid by our Ancestors, as to make the magnificent structure hazardous of being abandoned by those eminent wits that have lodged in it. With these Gentlemen I am assured you will not desire to spend your time; and with any of the former we desire you should not. You must in these distresses turn Gallant, and join yourself to the company of Women; to spend whole afternoons in kissing their hands, in admiring their dresses, and pretending to receive mortal wounds from their beauty: but yet, over and above that this were an idle life, you would be discarded if you used it; for we are not now adays for Lectures of Platonics; since many of our Women are grown as hardy as the men, and love a taste of the thing you wots of, to relish their Conversations: they deride the formality of hearing long Discourses of their beauty, of the achievements of their Sex, or any of their adventures that are not arch and courageous: so that, Sir, you will be more ridiculous in these attempts, than unsuccessful in the other. If you should last of all, abandon particular societies, and chop in with all in common: the Park, the Playhouse, the Eating-house, and the Coffee-house: you will hear an unintelligible buzzing, and a noise of what you understand not: some snatches of occurrences, whose beauty you are not able to perceive without the knowledge of the whole: if passing by the benches of the Pit, you should hear a young Gallant swear, that he had appointed the assignation at eight of the clock; you could not tell whether it was an intrigue with a Countess, or with a Citizen's wife: if you should take a walk, and discover a course betwixt a Hero and a Lady in a Mask; except you were acquainted with her voice, and her fashion, you could give yourself no account of the hunted beauty: these things, Sir, would perplex that curiosity they could not satisfy: and besides, nothing at all instruct you in the glorious adventures of the Town: and then for that great Mart of lies and nonsense the Coffee-house: if you could furnish yourself with so much patience, as to sit here half an hour; you might hear one Gentleman say to another; I am surprised, Sir, at the News you told me last night; I did not believe that Nation was capable of so much fineness and dexterity, now if you were not there at the precise time of uttering this intelligence, on the foregoing evening, you could not understand of whom it was spoken: except you civilly ask the question, which is an affront to, and below the gravity of that place: and besides unless you know yourself to be of a remorseless, and bloody disposition; you will be extremely moved by compassion, at those Tragic Histories you will there find uttered: the Sacking of Towns, ●e cutting in pieces of gal●●nt Troops; the approaching Catastrophies of Nations; ●e misfortunes of eminent statesmen; the fantastic crisis, under which puissant Monarchies groan, etc. Will ●here be so continually thundered in your ears, that you will often be obliged to a concernment for those Persons, who really stand in need of ●o such compassion. Besides, there will be this inconvenience in general remarks; that you must expect to be jeered with a witness, if you presume to peep into the mysteries of a Humour, of whic● you are not the Crafts-master the Professors of every Intrigue, taking a great prid● to despise a pretending Novitiate: and I have known a littl● Hector, more to glory in th● sleights he is capable of usin● in picking up a Wench, an● in the variety of his knowledge, than a great Captain ever did, in the stratagems an● policies of War: the desire of glory and singularity i● now as violent as ever, though its satisfaction is placed in such trifling and idle acquirements neither should you meet with so much contempt, if you ●●me to learn the most glorious Mysteries of War, or rule ●●om its greatest Masters; as ●ou shall if you apply your ●●lf to a Gallant to know the ●odes of the Town: who ●ears himself more upon such ● sufficiency than the others ●ould upon theirs: so that it ●ill by no means be agreeable ●● the height of your spirit, to pretend but in part to the Hu●ours of a Hero; because ●ou will be strangely ruffled if ●ou are found ignorant in the incest points. I can think for ●he present, of nothing else ●hat is important in the occurrences of the Town. A● now, Sir, what is it that yo● see in this manner of life capable of pleasing you? or tha● should cause you to prefer i● before the innocence, manliness, and pleasures of you● Country one. Do you livingloriously, because you g● to Bed at ten a clock, and ca●not up the Sun to usher you t● your Lodgings? Is it mor● pleasant to lie in little Rooms more incommodious than th● Lodge of your Porter, tha● to be well attended, and to command in the Palace o● your Ancestors? Is there ● necessity that you should esteem that day as lost, in which you have not signalised your valour on the Apple-women, the Constable, or the frail Glass-windows? Giving by such actions a lustre to the night in which you do them, ●hat should make it capable of ●rivalling the brightness of the morning. I see no necessity, Sir, of humouring such an ambition: Or are you not educated like a Gentleman, except you have half a score times been under the hands of the Surgeon, for the Consumption 'tis surely a very fantastical Genius that governs this Age, to place the glory of a Hero in such odd sort of sufferings ● are you obliged by the rules o● the new Honour, to swear fo● prodigiously, as if you were made Master of the Artillery to the Devil, or else you cannot be reckoned a man of good utterance and sense; We can here, Sir, esteem you well enough without such loud streams of Rhetoric; and sufficiently value your generosity, though you oblige not your lavish soul to spend all its virtue in a moment. You may, Sir, (according to our opinion) try your strength better in the manly exercises of the Country, than in the Debaucheries of the Town! and find less repugnance in making Love to a Lady, whose Virtue equals her Beauty, than in lavishly presenting of Wenches, who will spend your bounty as freely on a Groom, or a Footboy: your mind will certainly be more tranquil, and more capable of generous thoughts, that has the Ideas of justice and innocence to caress it, than when it is heated with the exploits of the Town; those minds who have always before them the Images of such low and common things, can never generate actions truly noble or worthy of Heroes; since it is impossible for the soul to produce any thing above its Ideas And in short, Sir, what satisfaction do you imagine my Lady will take in the knowledge of these things: will she not have just reason for her grief and displeasures, when she sees how ill you improve the care of her education, and what a disagreeing structure you raise on such a foundation; she will see with infinite grief the disappointment of her hopes, whilst she must leave behind her only the name, without any of the Virtues that were illustrious in your Family: as she will reflect with trouble on those happy Mothers, who all along had a charge in your Race; and who died with the contentment of a prosperous conduct; when at the same time though her prudence and her diligence have equalled theirs, yet her charge has alone miscarried: she has been a fruitful Mother, and set you in the cluster of Heroes, but she must see you growing dim and sullied in the circle of so bright a Race; and she will believe that the glory of your house is set, since a name adds nothing to a Family, without virtuous endowments. And in fine, Sir, we that have hitherto been honoured with your friendship, shall not know after what manner to receive you, when you return from the Town: we know you will sufficiently despise not only our capacities but our courage; whilst we can neither talk, nor act at your admirable rate: nor I believe will you ever be able to inspire us with your gallantry of mind: we can very peaceably go to Bed by a Candle, and not desire to swim to our repose through Blood or Wine: we are guilty of that good breeding as to think it rude to lie long after the Sun; neither have we those prodigious adventures to dream of, as could ●ndear the Pillow to us beyond the hour of twelve. Well, Sir, we must take our leave of you when you go, and never expect to see that accomplished innocent young Gentleman again in our Country; but one that will become the terror of the Pigs, and the Pullen; and that will levelly such an Artillery of Oaths against us, as must oblige us to stand off with our caresses. Thus, Sir, like Justice, you must be a stranger in your Country: or return again to the bosom of your Heroes; where after you have cut off another fair branch of your Estate, you will have added enough to the triumphs of wit, & humour: and though with less glory, yet more discretion, return like a Consul privately home: where you will have time to reflect, like an unfortunate aspirer, on all the precipitancies of a wild ambition; and on the fantastic Paths are trod to the glory of this Age: yet you will then find that all your exercise of Eloquence, and Arms, to which you had been bred in the Town, will not bestow upon you a sufficiency to serve your Country, with reputation and success; or to preside over the fortune of bickering Nations: but though your Age will not feel the weight of your Laurels; yet it may the smart of your debauchments; and the extravagancies of an hour, may accompany your sense to the remotest moments of your life: and that reason to which time will restore its just Dominion, will not only with indignation see the miscarriage of its affairs, under the conduct of a wild Humour; but also, like a just Prince, behold with pity the ruin of its interests, and the fatal wastes of its inheritance, under the regiment of that Tyrant; when it must live a solitary and a drooping Monarch, lamenting the captivity of its noblest Princes, carried away in the incursions of youthful lusts; and grieve to have arrived too late to rescue the fairest subjects of its power; when the pleasures of what it possesses, will not be able to divert the trouble of losing what it ought to have enjoyed. After all, Sir, you will add to those numerous instances, that show to the world the alone power of experience: whilst all the remonstrances of others; and the admonitions of our best friends can never prevail so effectually upon us as our own trial of things: and that he which will be truly wise, must be so at his own cost, and not expect it at the expenses of others. Yet from that Experience, you will not receive instruction with that friendliness and sweetness, with which now your Relations make you their Remonstrances: that Lords it, and imposes, sitting upon our minds like sullen Counsellors in declining States: presenting us not with the Picture; but the Original of unpleasant things. Experience is the last Instructor of mankind; having in it that Authority and Eloquence, of which examples and precepts are destitute: whether or no, 'tis reserved as a punishment of untractable dispositions, to know with a blush and regret, what they would not receive with an even and a tranquil temper: or whether it is the surest way to conquer an inglorious affection to Vices: certain it is, it has triumphed in very great instances of its power; and reclaimed those that were impenetrable to sweeter arts: and there has not past an Age, in which it has not done something extraordinary and eminent. But yet it was the desire of your Relations, that you might have escaped its Discipline, and that not only because it would show more generosity to be otherwise admonished; but also, because that is known to be sometimes very severe; and to have that fatality in its precedure as to ruin the subject it instructs: allowing but some few moments of being wise. We hearty wish that you may be spared from those severities; and since you will be left to the Documents of experience, that it may deal favourably with you, and kindly show you in a little, what the greater amounts to, is the passionate wish of all that know you: and particularly of,  
Sir, Your most affectionate Friend, and humble Servant.