A393068 UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN Item Selected for Retention by MOP - 2015 3 9015 05990 3925 > 17 RIES 72 Thomas Eyre Esq. of Hafsops BT 1551 E 58 1706 item Eclected for Reisition by MOP - 2015 Ruid rides 3 mutato nomine .de te Fabula narratur, Horat, OF THE Engliſh Theophraſtus : OR, THE Manners of the Age. Being the MODERN CHARACTERS OF THE COURT, the TOWN, and the CITY. Quicquid agunt Homines, Votum, Timor, Ira, Voluptas, Gaudia, Diſcurſus, noſtri eſt Farrago, Libelli. Juven. -Quis enim Virtutem ample&itur ipſam? Id. The Second Edition. With the Addition of 37 New Characters. LONDON: Printed for Thomas Atkinſon, at the White Swan in St. Paul's Church-Yard, 1706. English Llighton THE 9.22-32 26643 PREFACE T HIS Preface is meerly à Piece of Complaiſance to that Tyrannical Miſtriſs, Cuſtom: For, it ſeems, my Fellow-Authors, have ſo accuſtom’d their Readers, whether Gentle or Ungentle, to a Bill of Fare, and Pedantick Grace, that not one of them will think himſelf Welcome to the Entertainment, without thoſe Inſignificant Formalities. But to come ta sbe Point--- The Subject Matter of the following Sheets is the Grand-Leffon, deliver'd by the Delphian Oracle, Know thy ſelf: Which certainly is the moſt important of a Man's Life. We are, all of us, full of Folly and Ridicule : And the ſame Rule, guys A 3 The PREFACE. Rule, that a Diſeaſe well known is half Cur'd, holds as true in the Diſtem- pers of the Mind, ts in the Indiſpoſitions of the Body. Therefore the Philoſophers of all ages have beftow'd their Thoughts and application on the Search of Humane Imperfections, in order to rečlify them. Bút tbotheir ends have been the ſame, get different have been the Methods they have purſued to attain thoſe Ends. Some, with a Supercilious Gravity, have magi- ſterially inveigh'd againſt the Vices of Man- kind; whilſt others, by the nipping Strokes of a Side-wind Satyr, bave endeavour'd to tickle Men out of their Follies. The former have generally been abandon’d to the ill-bred Teachers of Muſty Morals in Schools, or to the fowr Pulpit-Orators ; whereas the latter bade been admitted to the Cabinets of Princes, the Toilets of the Fair Sex, the Converſation of the Polite, and, in ſhort, bave been Careſt and admir'd by thoſe very People they moſt abus’d. What Lady, nay, what Eloping Lady, has not been entertaind with the Sixth The PREFACE. Sixth Satyr of Juvenal : What Ufurer, what Leacher, what Sot, or what Glutton, has not been pleas'd with Horace's Re- flections on Avarice, Laſciviouſneſs, Drunk- enneſs and Intemperance ? How ofien has My Lord Pliant, laugh'd at the Pikture of which he was himſelf the Original ? The Reaſon of all this is plain, as long as the Satyr is not direčtly and bluntly levelld at us ; our Self-love waves the Applica- tion, and makes us find a Secret ſatisfa&tion in ſeeing others ridiculd; and the Quid rides ? Mutato nomine de te Fabula narratur---- Will be ever applicable to corrupt Nature. Upon this Confideration, the Modern Mo- taliſts have caſt their Obfervations on Men and Manners, into a more entertaining Form, than the rugged Philoſophers of Old; or rather to do the Ancients Juſtice, moſt of the Moderns bave Copied after thoſe ex- cellent Patterns, they bave found in Anti- quity, ſuch as Theophraſtus, Lucian, Plutarch, Diogenes Laertius, &c. Thus A 4 the The PREFACE. the Duke of Rochefoucaut, Mr. St. Evre- mont, and Mr. La Bruyere among the French, have furniſh'd the preſent Age with Maxims and Reflections, which are read with Admiration by all the Judicious. Theſe three Authors I have taken to Pieces, and Selected ſuch Thoughts out of them, for the Ground Work of this Book, as are of general Application to Mankind; and as Entertaining and Inſtručtive to an En- gliſh, as to a French Reader; For, by the by, I cannot but take Notice, that in every one of theſe Autkors, eſpecially La Bruyere, there are abundance of Cha- raēters, which tho' Maſterly and excellent, are ſo calculated for the Meridian of Pa- ris, that they look very dull and faint when view'd here in London; Not to mention how miſerably that noble Author has been abus'd by his Tranſlators. To theſe Re- flections and Characters, I have added A- bundance of fine Thoughts out of the Em- peror Antoninus, Mr. Paſcal, and Gra- cian; and as many, if not more, out of our Engliſh Authors, who are no way inferi- Our The PRE FACE. our to thoſe illuſtrious Foreigners in Point of Solidity, Acuteneſs, Penetration and Þelicacy: Such as the Lord Bacon, Mr. Cowley, Sir Roger L'Eſtrange, Sir VValter Raleigh, Sir VVilliam Tem- ple, Mr. Dryden, Mr. VVycherley, Mr.Brown, and ſome others, whoſe Names not occuring to my memory, I cannot acknow- ledge my Obligation to them, for enriching this Collection. The Thoughts of Engliſh Growth are diſtinguiſh'd by an Aſteriſm; ( thus *) and becauſe there are not a few Original Reflections, I have markd them with inverted Comma's (thus ) in the Margin. To theſe, I believe, no Man bas a better Title than my ſelf; but how- eper, if any Perſon will claim a Right to any of them, he is heartily welcome. ed THE BONJS190229 HU07 The CONTENTS -ft19 Alphabetically Digeſted. olans Ayon A Dmiracion Page 64 Advice Amictions Ages of Life Ambition Affurance Avarice Authority Authors 62 66 69 64 IOI 71 155 ! B BABathfulneſs | 1! 245 IOL 53 85 Beau Beauty Behaviour Benefits Buſineſs 87 M с Alumny Chance Cheats = 11 131 182 98 Children The CONTENTS. = no Children Church, Church-men Civility Clemency Confidence Conſtancy Converſation Contradiction Counfel Countenance Country-Squire Courage Court, Courtiers Cowardiſe Crimes Criticks Cunning Cuſtom Page 270 140 103 IOO 102 124, 125 103 293 62 195 59 - 120 113, 121 120 126 I 129 128 D Each Deceit Defects Deſigns Detraction Devotion Dignities Dillimulation 248 98 170 135 131 140 155 332 - E ES "Ducation Elevation Eloquence = 151 155 334 Enemies The CONTENTS Enemies Envy Etteem Exaggeration Examples Page 186 163 3140 338 167 168 F F Ailings Families Favourites Fidelity Flattery Folly Fortune Friends, Friendſhip 179 174 221 177 177 350 182 186 eur G GEgiliye Entility Good Nature Gratitude Greatneſs Government 291 195 Іоо 87 155 221 H Appineſs Harm Hatred Health Heart Honeſty 20 I 126 196 197 277 81 Honour The CONTENTS. Honour Page 198 Hope 200 Homelineſs 198 Humour 199 Hypocrify 140 I ill I 111 2006 208 212 126 168 Dleneſs Jealouſie Ignorance Ills Imitacion Inconftancy Infidelity Ingratitude Injuries Intereſt Intrigues Juſtice, Injuſtice 124 sunsee-le-to 177 87 296 208 28 209 K = K Kings Navery 98 221 Knowledge 212 L al I Aughter Learning Liberality Life Love 245 212 260 248, 258 28, 263 Managing The CONTENTS: Sot so M MONO MA Page 275 Anaging Marriage, Matrimony Maſters Memory Merit Mind Misfortunes Moderation U11 270 174 277 281 275 201 281 N TAture Nobility 289 292 Bftinacy Offences 293 296 Р Plate = 336 297 349 300 1 Alate Paſſions Peace philoſophy play-houſe Pleaſures Poets Politeneſs Praiſe Pretenders Pride i 301 1 103 177 176 303 Primacy The CONTENTS. Page 307 Primacy Princes Prodigality Purfuits 260 307 R RAillery -245, 323 310 361 Raſhneſs Reaſon Religion Reputation Reſolution Revenge Riches ** 314, 338 125 196 71 S Atyr Secrets Self Love Servants Shifos Silence, Speaking Skill Sincerity Slander Sloth Society Succeſs 177 102 325 574 129 334 350 332 138 206 me 103 135 T TAle-bearers Ale-bearers Taſte Time 131 336 248 Treachery The CONTENTS. Treachery Tricks Truth Page 129 129 336 V VA 338 --- 342 Anity Vice Virtue Underſtanding Undertakings Vulgar ' 277 135 347 W 348 Walk = Alks War Weakneſs Will's Coffee-houſe Wiſdom Wits, Wit Women Worth 349 350 1 350 I, 277 28 282 The 1 cm Τ Η Ε M A N N E R S Of the A G E. ૯૮ E Authors, Wits, Poets, Criticks, Will's Coffee-Houſe, Play-Houſe, &c. UBULUS fancying himſelf Inſpir’d, “ftands up for the Honour of Poetry, and is mightily provok'd to hear the " Sacred Name of Poet, turn'd into Scandal and Ridicule; He tells you "what a profound Veneration the « Athenians had for their Dramatick Writers; how "greatly Terence and Virgil were honour'd in Rome; the firſt, by Scipio and Lalius, the other by Au- guftus and Mecenas; how much Francis the Firſt, and Cardinal Richelieu, encourag'd the Wits of France ; and drawing his Argument more home, "he relates to you, how in this Ifland the Bucking- hams, the Orrerys, the Roſcommons, the Normanbys, the Dorſets, the Hallifaxs, and ſeveral other Illuſtri- sous Perſons have not only encouraged Poetry, but < ennobled the Art it felf by their Performances. True Eubulus ; we allow Poetry to be a Divine “ Art, LS B 2 The Manners of the Age. C CC co « Art, and the Name of Poet to be Sacred and Ho- ( nourable, when a Sophocles, a Terence, a Virgil, « a Corneille, a Boileau, a Shakeſpear, a Waller, a Dryden, a Wycherly, a Congreve, or a Garth bears cit : But then we intend it as a Scandal, when we give it to Mevius, Chapelain, Ogilby, W--- CD D---, S--, and your ſelf. “I queſtion whether fome Poets allow any other Poers to have Perform'd better than themſelves, in that kind of Poetry which they profeſs. Sir R--- B.-, I ſuppoſe, tho' he has declaim'd a- gainſt Wit, yet is not fo conceited, as to Vie with Horace and Fuvenal for Satyr ; but as to Heroick Poetry, methinks he Reaſons thus with himſelf, Homer has writ the Ilias and the Odyſſeis, and Virgil only the Æneid; I have writ Prince « Arthur, and King Arthur ; am I not then equal to Homer, and Superior to Virgil ? No, B-re, we judge of Poetry as we do of Metals, not by the Lump, but the intrinſick Value. New-caſt your Poems, purge 'em of their Droſs, reduce " 'em to the Bulk of the Diſpenſary, and if then " they weigh in the Balance with that, we will " allow you a Place among the Firſt-Rate Heroick « Poets. “ The Wits of mean Deſcent and ſcanty Fortune, care generally apt to reflect on Perſons of " Quality and Eſtates, whom they rafhly tax with " Dullneſs and Ignorance, a Normanby, a Dorſet, a Spencer, a Hallifax, a Boyle, a Stanhope, and a Codrington, (to paſs over abundance more) are “ fufficient to convince the World, that either an « Illuſtrious Birth, or vaſt Riches, are not incom- patible with deep Learning, and Sterling-Wit. Rapin, St. Evremont, and ſome other French “ Critičks, do the Engliſh wrong, in the Judgments they CC CC 60 CC The Manners of the Age. 3 ck CC CC CC they paſs upon their Plays : The Engliſh ) Cri- sticks are even with them, for generally they judge as ill of French Poetry. “There is a great reach of Diſcernment, a deep Knowledge, and abundance of Candor requir’d, to qualifie a Man for an equal Judge of the Poe- try and ingenious Compoſitions of two Nations, whoſe Tempers, Humours, Manners, Cuſtoms, and “Taſtes, are fo vaſtly different as the French are “ from the Engliſh : Rapin, St. Evremont, and Rymer, are candid, judicious and learned Criticks, I own it ; but yet neither the two firſt are ſufficiently acquainted with England, nor the latter with France, to enter equally into the Genius of both "Nations; and conſequently they cannot paſs a Juſt Sentence upon the Performances of their reſpective Writers. « Tis a great piece of Injuſtice in us, to charge Ćs the French with Fickleneſs ; for, to give them “ their due, They are ten times more conſtant in “their Judgments, than we; Their Cid and Iphigen s nia in Arlis, are Acted at this very day, with as much applauſe as they were thirty Years ago : “ All London has admir'd the Mourning Bride one Winter, and endeavour'd to find fault with it CC es the next: CC < Philo comes piping hot out of the College, and having his Head full of Poetical Gingles, writes an Elegy, a Panegyrick, or a Satyr upon the leaſt fri- “ volous Occaſion: This brings him acquainted “ with all the Second-Rate Wits ; One of theſe in- troduces him at Will's, and having a Play upon the Stocks, and ready to be Launch’d, he pre- “ vails with Philo to write him a Song, a Dialogue, a Prologue and Epilogue ; in ſhort the Trimming © of his Comedy. By this time, Philo begins to B2 c think 4 The Manners of the Age. CG CC think himſelf a great Man, and nothing leſs than the writing of a Play, can fatisfie his towring SC Ambition; well, the Play is writ, the Players upon the Recommendation of thoſe that lick'd it over, like their Parts to a Fondneſs, and the Sc Comedy, or Tragedy, being ſupported partly by its " real Merit, but moſt powerfully by a Toaſting, or Kit-cat-Club, comes off with univerſal Ap- (plauſe. How ſlippery is Greatneſs ? Philo puff'd up with his Succeſs, writes a ſecond Play, ſcorns to improve it by the Corrections of better Wits, brings it upon the Stage, without ſecuring a Party to protect it, and has the Mortification to • hear it Hift to Death. Pray how many Philes C do we reckon in Town fince the Revolution ? + The Title Page of a Book ſhould promiſe ſomething, but the Book it ſelf ſhould perform more : But for the generality we have very ſpeci- ous Titles, and frivolous Treatiſes. « The Reaſon we have had ſo many ill • Plays of late, is this, The extraordinary Succeſs cc of the worſt Performances, encourages every « Pretender to Poetry to Write ; Whereas the in- « different Reception fome excellent Pieces have met with, diſcouragés our beſt Poets from Wri- “ After all, one of the boldeſt Attempts of Hu man Wit, is to write a taking Comedy: For, how many different forts of People, how many va- crious Palates muft a Poer pleaſe, to gain a gene- ral Applauſe? He muſt have a Plot and Deſign, " Coherence and Unity of 4&tion, Time and Place, " for the Criticks, Polite Language for the Boxes, Repartee, Humour, and Double Entendres for the " Pit;' and to the Shame of our Theatres, a mix- turc of Farce for the Galleries. What Man of 6 ting foonia s Senſe The Manners of the Age. 5 5C CC « Senſe now will venture his Reputation upon " theſe hard Terms? “The Poet often arrogates to himſelf the Ap- plauſe, which we only give to Mrs. Barry or Bracegirdle's inimitable Performances : But then he muſt take as often upon his Account the Hiſ ſes, which are only intended for Cæfonia, and Co- rinna's abominable Acting. One makes amends s for t'other. "Many a pert Coxcomb might have paſt for a Wit, if his Vanity had not brought him to Wills. its « The ſame thing that makes a Man appear with Aſſurance at Court; qualifies him alſo to appear unconcern'd among Men of Senſe at Will's : 1 mean Impertinence. wa “ As ſome People Write, fo others talk themſelves out of their Reputatiou. † Many a Man has paſt for a Wit in Converſati- on, that utterly undid himſelf by ſetting up for an Author: Puff'd up with the Indulgence of his Friends, he Launch'd out into the Ocean of Man- kind: And being read by ſome with Envy, by e- thers without partiality, his Reputation was Ship- wrack'd at once. * The Name of a Wit, is little better than a Slander, ſince it is generally given by thoſe that have none, to thoſe that have little. How ſtrangely ſome Words loſe their Primitive Senſe ! By a Critick, was originally underſtood a good Judge; with us now-a-days, it fignifies no more than a Fault-finder, * A Critick in the Modern Acceptation, feldom riſes, either in Merit, or Reputation ; for it argues a mean grov'ling Genius, to be always finding Fault; whereas, a candid Judge of Things, not only im- proves CC B 3 6 The Manners of the Age. CC proves his Parts, but gains every Body's Efteem. * None keep generally worſe Company than your Eſtabliſh'à Wits, for there are a fort of Cox- combs, that itick continually to them like Burs, to make the Town think from their Company, that they are Men of Parts. * Criticks are uſeful, that's moſt certain, ſo are Executioners and Informers: But what Man did ever envy the condition of Jack Ketch, or fack P--- * How can we love the Man, whoſe Office is to torture and execute other Men's Reputation. * After all, a Critick is the laſt Refuge of a pretender to Wit. << 'Tis a great piece of Aſfurance in a profeſt " Critick to write Plays, for if he does, he muſt ex- peat to have the whole Club of Wits, ſcanning « his Performances with utmoſt Severity, and mag- nifying his Slips into prodigious Faults. * I don't wonder Men of Quality and Eſtate re- fort to Will's, for really they make the beſt Figure there, an indifferent thing from 'em, paſſes for a Witty Jeſt, and ſets preſently the whole Company a Laughing. Thus we admire the pert Talk of Chil- dren, becauſe we expected nothing from 'em. † 'Tis not enough for a Man to ſay he endea- voured to pleaſe, he ſhould be able to do it. Cri- ticks will Diſcount nothing with us for our bare Goodwill. * Wits are generally the moſt dangerous Com- pany a Woman can keep, for their Vanity makes them brag of more Favours than they Obtain. * A Witty Man is a good Companion, but an ill Confident. "Some Women care not what becomes of their Honour, ſo they may ſecure the Reputation of 6C their Wit. Sot bilan «Thoſe The Manners of the Age. 7 ز CC 6C « Thoſe People generally talk moſt, who have the leaſt to ſay ; go to Will's, and you'll hardly hear the Great Wicherly ſpeak two Sentences in a quarter of an Hour, whilſt Blatero, Hamilus,Ter- pinus, and twenty more egregious Coxcombs,dea- fen the Company with their Political Nonfence. “There are at Will's ſome Wit-carriers, whoſe “ buſineſs is, to export the fine Things they hear, « from one Room to another, next to a Reciting Poet; theſe Fellows are the moſt exquiſite Plague to a Man of Senſe. « In ſpight of the intrinſick Merit of Wit, we S find it feldom brings a Man into the Favour, or even Company of the Great, and the Fair, unleſs "it be for a Laugh and away ; neither thought on, but when preſent; nor then never, for the ſake s of the Man of Wit, but their own Diverſion. ". The infallible way to ingratiate ones felf with Quality, is that dull and empty Entertainment, called Gaming, for Picket, Ombre, and Baſſet, keep always Places even for a quondam Foot-man, or a Drawer at the Aſſemblies, Apartments, and Viſiting- days. If you loſe, you oblige with your Money ; if you Win, you command with your Fortune ; “the Lord is your Bubble, and the Lady what you pleaſe to make her team + There is a great deal of difference between Writing well, and Talking well ; The Stile of an Oratour is of another Nature, than that of a Well-bred Converſation ; this muſt be eaſie in the Delivery, proper in the Phraſe, but as ſhort as may be ; the other admits of more various Decorations, a lofrier Phrafe, and a larger extent. * Flattery of our Wit, has the fame Power over Us, which Flattery of Beauty has over a Woman; it keeps up that good Opinion of our ſelves which 291917 B 4 bul basti rises is 8 The Manners of the Age. is neceſſary to beger Aſſurance ; and Aſurance pro: duces ſucceſs both in Fortune and Love. * Some Men take as much Pains to perſwade the World that they have Wit, as Bullies do that they have Courage, and generally with the fame Succeſs'; for they feldom deceive any one but them- ſelves. * Some pert Coxcombs, fo violently affect the Reputation of Wits, that not a French Journal, Mercury, Farce, or Opera, can eſcape their Pillaging; yet the utmoſt they arrive at, is but a fort of Fack- a-Lanthorn Wit, thar like the Sun-fhine which wan- ton Boys with fragments of Looking-glaſs reflect in Men's Eyes, dazles the Weak-fighted, and trou- bles the ſtrong. Theſe are the Muſes Black-Guard, that like thoſe of our Camp, tho' they have no ſhare in the Danger or Honour, yet have the greateſt in the Plunder ; that indifferently ſtrip all that lie before 'em, dead or alive ; Friends or Ene- mies: Whatever they light on, is Terra incognita, and they claim the right of Diſcoverers, that is, of giving their Names to it. aldus * I think the Learned and Unlearned Blockhead pretty equal: For 'tis all one to me, whether a Man talk Nonfence, or Unintelligible Sence. so * There is nothing of which we afſent to ſpeak with more Humility and Indifference than our own Senſe; yet nothing of which we think with more Partiality and Prefumption. There have been ſome fo bold, as to aſſume the Title of the Ora- cles of Reaſon to themſelves, and their own Wri- tings; and we meet with others daily, that think themlélves Oracles of Wit. Theſe are the moſt vexatious Animals in the World, that think they have a priviledge to torment and plague every Bo- dy ; but thoſe moſt who have the belt Reputation for their Wit and Judgment. + There's The Manners of the Age. 9 + There's ſomewhat that borders upon Madneſs in every exalted Wit. * One of the moſt remarkable Fools that re- fort to Will's, is the Fop-Poet, who is one that has always more Wit in his pockets than any where elſe, yet feldom or never any of his own there. Æſop's Daw was a Type of him, for he makes himſelf fine with the Plunder of all Parties : He is a ſmuggler of Wit, and ſteals French Fan- cies, without paying the Cuſtomary Duties : Verſe is his Manufacture, for it is trore the Labour of his Fingers, than his Brain: He ſpends much time in writing, but ten times more in reading what he has written : He asks your Opinion, yet for fear you ſhould not jump with him, tells you his own firſt : He defires no Favour, yet is diſappointed if he is not Flatter'd, and is always offended at the Truth. He is a Poetical Haberdaſher of ſmall Wares, and deals very much in Novels, Madrigals, Funeral and Love Odes, Panegyricks, Elegies, and o- ther Toys of Parna jus, which he has a Shop ſo well furniſh'd with, that he can fit you with all ſorts in the twinkling of an Eye. He talks much of Wycherly, Garth and Congreve, and proteſts, he can't help having fome Reſpect for them, becauſe they have ſo much for him and his Writings, other- wiſe he could make it appear that they under- ſtand little of Poetry in compariſon of himſelf, but he forbears 'em meerly out of Gratitude and Compaſſion. He is the Oracle of thoſe that want Wit, and the Plague of thoſe that have it ; for he haunts their Lodgings, and is more terrible to them than their Duns. * Brutus for want of Wit, ſets up for Criti- ciſm ; yet has ſo much ambition to be thought a Wit, that he lets his Spleen prevail againſt Na- ture, The Manners of the Age. ture, and turns Poet. In this Capacity he is as juſt to the World as in the other injurious. For, as the Critick wrong'd every Body in his Cenfure; and ſnarld and grind at their Writings, the Poet gives 'em Opportunity to do themſelves Juſtice, to return the Complement, and laugh at, or deſpiſe his. He takes his Malice for a Muſe, and thinks himſelf Inſpir'd, when he is only Poſeſs'd, and blown up with a Flatus of Envy and Vanity. His Works are Libels upon others, but Satyrs upon himſelf; and while they bark at Men of Senſe, call him Fool that writ'em. He has a very great Antipathy to his own Species, and hates to ſee a Fool any where but in his Glaſs ; for, as he says, they provoke bim, and offend his Eyes. His Fund of Criticiſm, is a ſet of Terms of Art, pick'd out of the French Criticks; or their Tranſlators; and his Poetical Stock, is a common place of certain Forms and manners of Expreſſion. He writes better in Verſe than Profe for in that there is Rhime, in this, neither Rhime nor Reaſon. “He rails both at the French Writers “ whom he does not underſtand, and at thoſe Englifh “ Authors, whoſe Excellencies he cannot reach; with him Voiture is flat and dull, Corneille a Stranger to the Paſſions, Racine, Starch'd and Af. fected, Moliere, Jejune, la Fontaine a poor Teller “ of Tales ; and even the Divine Boileau, little “ better than a Plagiary. As for the Engliſb Poets, “he treats almoſt with rhe ſame Freedom; Shake- Spear with him has neither Language nor Man- ners; Ben. Johnſon is a Pedant; Dryden little more than a tolerable Verſifier; Congreve a labori- ous Writer ; Garth, an indifferent imitator of Boża « leau. He traduces Oldham, for want of Breeding and good Manners, without a grain of either, and “ ſteals his own Wit to beſparter him with ; but 3 CC . 6 like The Manners of the Age. II 66 " like an ill Chymiſt, he lets the Spirit fly off in the drawing over and retains only the Phlegm. He Cen- fures Cowley for too much Wit, and corrects him with none. He is a great Admirer of the incom- "parable Milton, but while he fondly endeavours to imitate his Sublime, he is blown up with “Bombaft and puffy Expreſſions. He is a great ſtick- “ ler for Euripides, Sophocles, Horace, Virgil, Ovid, " and the reſt of the Ancients ; but his ill and “ lame Tranſlations of 'em, ridicule thoſe he would commend. He ventures to write for the Play- “ Houſes, but having his ſtoln, ill-patch'd fuſtian Plays damn'd upon the Stage, he ranſacks Bolu, Rapin and Dacier, to arraign the ill Taſte of the “ Town. To compleat himſelf in the Formalities of Parnaſus, he falls in Love, and tells his Miſtreſs in a very pathetick Letter, he is oblig'd to her bright Beauty for his Poetry ; but if this Damſel prove no more indulgent than his Muſe, his Amour is like to conclude but unluckily. Demetrius before the Curſe of Poetry had ſeiz'd him, was in a pretty way of Thriving Buſineſs, but ha- ving lately fold his Chambers in one of the Inns of Court, and taken a Lodging near the Play-houſe, is now in a fair way of Starving. This Gentleman is frequently poffeft with Poetick Raptures ; and all the Family complains, that he diſturbs 'em at Mid- night, by reciting fome incomparable ſublime Fu- ftian of his own Compoſing. When he is in Bed, one wou'd imagine he might be quiet for that Night, but 'tis quite otherwiſe with him; for when a new Thought, as he calls it, comes into his Head, up he gets, fets it down in Writing, and fo gra- dually encreaſes the deteſted Bulk of his Poetick Fooleries, which, Heaven avert it! he threatens to Print. Demetrius having had the Misfortune of mif- I 2 The Manners of the Age. miſcarrying upon the State, endeavours to pre- ſerve his unlawful Title to Wit, by bringing all the Dramatick Poets down to his own Level. And wanting Spirit to ſet up for a Critick, turns Spy and Informer of Parnaſſus. He frequents Apollo's Court at Wills, and picks up the freſheſt Intelli- gence, what Plays are upon the Stocks, what rea- dy to be Launch'd ; and if he can be inform’d, from the Eſtabliſhd Wits, of any remarkable Fault in the new Play upon the Bills, he is indefatiga- bly induftrious in whiſpering it about, to beſpeak its Damnation before its Repreſentation. * Circulio is a Semi-Wit, that has a great Vene- ration for the Moderns, and no leſs a Contempt for the Ancients : but his own ill Compoſures deſtroy the force of his Arguments and do the Ancients full Ju- ſtice. This Gentleman having had the good Fortune to write a very taking, undigeſted medly of Comedy and Farce, is fo puffd up with his Succeſs, that nothing will ſerve him, but he muſt bring this new fantaſtick way of writing, into Eſteem. To compaſs this noble Deſign, he tells you what a Coxcomb Ariſtotle was with his Rules of the three Unities : and what a Company of Senſeleſs, Pedants the Sca- ligers, Rapins, Boſſu's, and Daciers are. He proves that Ariſtotle and Horace, knew nothing of Po- etry; that common Senſe and Nature were not the fame in Athens, and Rome, as they are in Lon- don, that Incoherence, Irregularity and Nonfence are the Chief perfections of the Drama, and, by a ne- ceffary Conſequence that the Silent Woman, is be- low his own Performance. “No nem Doctrine in Religion, ever got any confiderable Footing except it was grounded on Miracles, Nor any New Hypotheſis was ever eſtabli- (hed in Natural Philoſophy, unleſs it was confirm'd by The Manners of the Age. 13 CC cc of it. CC CC CC by Experience. « The fame Rule holds, in ſome mea- ſure, in all Arts and Sciences, particularly in Dramatick Poetry. It will be a hard matter " for any Man to trump up any new ſet of Pre- cepts, in oppoſition to thoſe of Ariſtotle and "Horace, except by following them, he writes “ ſeveral approvd Plays. The great ſucceſs of " the firſt part of the T-p was ſufficient I muſt a confeſs, to juſtifie the Author's Conceit ; but then the Exploſion of the ſecond ought to have cur'd him “Writers like Women ſeldom give one another a good Word ; that's moſt certain. Now if the Poets and Criticks of all Ages have allowed So- phocles, Euripides and Terence to have been good Dramatick Writers, and Ariſtotle and Horace to have been judicious Criticks, ought not their Cenſure to weigh more with Men of Senſe, than " the Fanſies, of a Modern Pretender. To be plain, whoever Diſputes Ariſtotle and Horace “Rules, does as good as call the Scaligers, Voſhi, Rapins, Boflu's, Daciers Corneilles, Roſcommons, Nor- manby's and Rymers, Blockheads : A Man muſt have a great deal of Aſſurance, to be fo free with ſuch illuſtrious Judges. « Of all the modern Dramatick Poets the Author of the Trip to the Jubilee has the leaſt Reaſon to turn into Ridicule Ariſtotle and Horace, fince ºtis to their Rules which he has, in ſome meaſure followed, that he owed the great ſucceſs of that Play. Thoſe Rules are nothing but a ſtriet imita- tion of Nature, which is ſtill the ſame in all Ages and Nations : And becauſe the Characters of “Wildair, Angelica, Standard and Smugler are natu- cral, and well purſued, they have juſtly met with Applauſe; but then the Characters of Lurewell and 31. 55 Clincher CC CC CC CC CC 14 The Manners of the Age. " Clincher Sen. being out of Nature they have as “juſtly been condemn’d by all the Good Judges. * Some Scholars, tho' by their conſtant Conver- ſation with Antiquity, they may know perfe&tly the fenfe of the Learned dead, and be perfect maſters of the Wiſdom, be throughly informed of the State, and nicely skill'd in the Policies of Ages long ſince paſt, yet by their retired and unactive Life, and their neglect of Buſineſs, they are ſuch ſtrangers to the Domeſtick Affairs and manners of their own Country and Times, that they ap- pear like the Ghoſts of old Romans rais'd by Magick. Talk to them of the Aſyrian or Perſian Monarchies of the Grecian or Roman Commonwealths, they anſwer like Oracles ; they are ſuch finiſhed States. men that we ſhould ſcarce take 'em to have been leſs than Privy-Councellors to Semiramis, Tutors to Cyrus the Great, and old Cronies of Solon, Licui- gus, and Numa Pompilius. But ingage them in a Diſcourſe that concerns the preſent Times, and their Native Country, and they hardly ſpeak the Lan- guage of it; ask them how many King there have been in England ſince the Conqueſt, or in what Reign the Reformation happen'd, and they'll be puz- zled with the Queſtion ; they knew all the mi- nuteſt Circumſtances of Cataline's Conſpiracy, but are hardly acquainted with the late Plot. They'll tell you the Names of ſuch Romans as were called to an Account by the Senate for their Briberies, Ex tortions and Depredations, but know nothing of the four impeached Lords; they talk of the ancient way of Fighting, and warlike Engines, as if they had been Lieutenant Generals under Alexander, Sci- pio, Annibal or Julius Cæſar; but are perfectly iga norant of the modern military Diſcipline, Fortifi- cation and Artillery ; and of the very Names of Naſſau, The Manners of the Age. 15 Naflau, Conde, Turenne, Luxembourg, Eugene, Villeroy and Catinat. They are excellent Guides, and can direct you to every Alley, and Turning in old Rome yet loſe their way home in their own Pariſh. They are mighty Admirers of the Wit and Eloquence of the Ancients; yet had they lived in the Time of Demoſthenes and Cicero, would have treated them with as much ſupercilious Pride and Diſreſpect as they do now the Moderns. They are great Hunters of Ancient Manuſcripts, and have in great Veneration any thing that has eſcaped the Teeth of Time; and if Age has obliterated the Cha- racters, 'tis the more valuable for not being legible. Thefe Superſtitious bigotted idolaters of time paſt, are Children in their Underſtanding all their Lives, for they bang fo inceſſantly upon the leading-ſtrings of Authority, that their Judgments like the Limbs of fome Indian Penitents, become altogether crampt and motionleſs for want of uſe. In fine, they think it a diſparagement of their Learning to talk what o- ther Men underſtand, and will ſcarce believe that two and two make four, under a Demonſtration from Euclid, or a Quotation from Ariſtotle. The World ſhall allow a Man to be a wiſe Man, a good Naturaliſt, a good Mathematician, Politici- an or Poet, but not a Scholar, or Learned Man, unleſs he be a Philologer and underſtands Greek and Latin. But for my part I take theſe Gentle- men have juſt inverted the Uſe of the Term, and given that to the Knowledge of Words, which belongs more properly to Things. I take Nature to be the Book of Univerſal Learning, which he that reads belt in all or any of its Parts, is the greateſt Scholar, the moſt Learned Man; and 'tis as ridiculous for a Man to count himſelf more learned than another, if he have no greater Extent of 16 The Manners of the Age: of Knowledge of things, becauſe he is more vers’d in Languages, as it would be for an old fellow to tell a young One, his own Eyes were better than the others, becauſe he reads with Spectacles, the other without. † To be a good Maſter in any one Thing re. quires ſo much Time and Study, that but few Geniuſes are capable of more. * Impertinence is a Failing that has its Root in Nature, but is not worth laughing at, till it has received the finiſhing ſtrokes of Art. A Man thro’ natural Defects may do abundance of incoherent foolſh Actions, yet deſerves Compaſſion and Advice rather than Deriſion. But to ſee Men ſpending their Fortunes, as well as lives, in a Courſe of regu- lar Folly, and with an induſtrious as well as ex- penſive idleneſs running thro’ tedious Syſtems of impertinence, would have ſplit the Sides of Hera- clitus, had it been his Fortune to have been a Spe- Etator. It's very eaſy to decide which of theſe im- pertinents is the moſt ſignal : the Virtuofo is mani- feſtly without a Competitor. For our Follies are not to be meaſured by the Degree of Ignorance that appears in ’em, but by the ſtudy, labour and ex- pence they coſt us to finiſh and compleat 'em. So that the more Regularity and Artifice there appears in any of oar Extravagancies, the greater is the Folly of 'em. Upon this ſcore it is that the laſt mentioned deſervedly claim the Preference to all others. They have improved ſo well their Amuſements into an Art, that the credulous and ignorant are induced to believe there is ſome fecret Vertue, ſome hidden Myſtery in thoſe darling Toys of theirs : When all their Buſtling amounts to no more than a learned impertinence,and all they teach Men, is but a ſpecious Method of throwing away both Time and Money. + There The Manners of the Age. 17 6C CC CC CC + There are more Piracies committed upon the Preſs than upon the Sea. “ The Illufions of Peotry are fatal to none hut the Poets themſelves : Sidonius having lately miſcarrid upon the Stage, gathers freſh Courage and is now big with the hopes of a Play, writ by an ancient s celebrated Author, new vampt and furbiſh'd up “after the laudable Cuſtom of our modern Witlings. “He reckons how much he ſhall get by his third day, nay, by his fixth ; how much by the Printing, “how much by the Dedication, and by a modelt Computation - concludes the whole Sum will amount to two hundred Pounds, which are to be diſtributed among his truſty Duns. But mark the fallacy of Vanity and Self-conceit : The Play is acted, and caſts the Audience into ſuch a Le- thargy, that they are fain to damn it with Tawning, s being in a manner deprived of the Uſe of their hiſing Faculty. Well ſays Sidonius (after having C recover'd from a profound Confternation) Now muſt the important Perſon ſtand upon his own Leggs. Right, Sidonius, but when do you come on again, that Covent Garden Doctors may preſcribe your “ Play inſtead of Opium?700 at The Indulgence of a Man's Friends, though otherwiſe Men of good underſtanding, cannot fup- port a Book againſt the vogue of the World. " The Town is not one jot more diverted by the Diviſion of the Play-houfes : The Players perform better 'tis true ? but then the Poets write worſe ; Will the uniting of Drury-Lane and “Lincolnºs-Inn-Fields mend Matters? No, --- for then what the Town ſhould get in writing, they co would loſe in a{ting. * A Dramatick Poet has as hard a Task on't to manage, as a pafive obedience Divine that preaches с before CC CC CC 18 The Manners of the Age. before the Commons on the zoth. of January. To pleaſe the Pit and Galleries he muſt take care to lard the Dialogue with ſtore of lufcious ſtuff, which the Righteous call Baudy ; to pleaſe the new Reformers he muſt have none, otherwiſe gruff Jeremy will Laſh him in a third View. * Ivery much Queſtion, after all, whether Collier would have been at the Pains to laſh the immora- lities of the Stage, if the Dramatick Poets had not been guilty of the abominable Sin of making fa- miliar now and then with the Backſlidings of the Caffock. * The Griping Uſurer, whoſe daily Labour and nightly Care and Study is to oppreſs the Poor, or over-reach his Neighbour, to betray the Truſts his Hy procriſy procured ; in ſhort to break all the Poſitive Laws of Morality, crys out, Oh! Dia- bolical, at a poor harmleſs Double Entendre in a Play. sac Tis prepoſterous to pretend to reform the << Stage before the Nation, and particularly the CG Town, is reform'd The Buſineſs of a Dramatick “ Poer is to Copy Nature, and repreſent things as they are ; Let our Peers give over whoring and s drinking ; the Citizens, Cheating, the Clergy their Quarrels, Covetouſneſs and Ambition ; the Law- yers, their ambi-dextrous dealings; and the Women « intriguing, and the ſtage will reform of Courſe. « Formerly Poets made Players, but now a days 'tis generally the Player that makes the Poet. How many Plays would have expired the very firſt " Night of their appearing upon the Stage, but " for Betterton, Barry, Bracegirdle, or Wilk's inimi- table Performance. “Whoever goes about to expoſe the Follies of 6 others upon the Stage, runs great hazard of expo- « fing 60 CC The Manners of the Age. 19 C6 Poet. CC ૬૮ the Romans, but with the Greeks Honourable: Romans, and live with them like the Greeks. < Nothing ſo powerfully excites Love in us e fing himſelf firſt ; and of being made Ridicu- lous to thoſe very People he endeavours to make ſo. “I doubt whether a Man of Senſe would ever give himſelf the Trouble of writing for the Stage, if he had before his Eyes the fatigue of “Rehearſals, the Pangs and Agonies of the first day his Play is Ašted, the Diſappointments of S the third, and the Scandal of a Damn'd “ The Reaſon why in Shakeſpear and Ben. John- ſon's Time Plays had ſo good Succeſs, and that we ſee now ſo many of 'em miſcarry, is becauſe then the Poets wrote better than the Audience Judgd; whereas now-a-days the Audience judge “ better than the Poets write. * He that pretends to confine a Damfel of the Theatre to his own Uſe, who by her Chara&ter is a Perſon of an extended Qualification, acts as un- righteous, at leaſt as unnatural, a Part, as he that would Debauch a Nun. But after all, ſuch a Spark rather Confults his Vanity, than his Love, and would be thought to ingrofs what all the young Coxcombs of the Town admire and co- Is it not a kind of Prodigy, that in this wicked and cenſorious Age, the ſhining Daphne ſhould preſerve her Reputation in a Play- The Character ofa Player was Infamous amongſt What is our Opinion? We think of them like the vet. CC CC e Houſe? Men, as the view of thoſe Limbs of Women's Bodies, which the Eſtabliſh'd Rules of Modeſty C2 46 bid 20 The Manners of the Age. CS CC CC bid 'em keep from our Sight. No wonder then "sif Aglaura, Cafonia, Floria, and in general all " the Women on our Stages, are io fond of acting cs in Men's Cloaths. Cæfonia is Young, I own it : but then Cæſo- nia has an African Noſe, hollow Eyes, and a “ French Complexion; ſo that all the time ſhe acted in her Sex’s Habit, her Conqueſts never extended further than one of her Fellow-Play- ers, or a Caſt-Poet. Mark the Miracles of Fancy: Ceſonia a&ts a Boy's Part, and Tallus one of the firſt Patricians, falls deſperately in “Love with her, and preſents her with two Hun- “dred great Seſterces (a Gentlewoman's Portion) “ for a Night's Lodging. “One would imagine our Matrons ſhould be mighty Jealous of their Husbands Intriguing " with Players : But no, they bear it with a Chri- " ſtian Patience. How is that poſſible? Why, they Intrigue themſelves, either with Roſcius the Tra- gedian, Flagillus the Comedian, or Bathillus the Dancer. Nothing ſurprizes me more, than to ſee Men Laugh ſo freely at a Comedy, and yet account it a filly weakneſs to Weep at a Tragedy. For is it leſs natural for a Man's Heart to relent upon a Scene of Pity, than to be tranſported with Joy upon one of Mirth and Humour ? or it is only the altera- tion of the features of one's Face that makes us forbear Crying? But this alteration is undoubt- edly as great in an immoderate Laughter, as in a molt deſperate Grief; and good Breeding teaches us to avoid the one as well as the other, before thoſe for whom we have a Reſpect. Or is it painful to us to appear tender-hearted and expreſs grief upon a Fiétion? But without quoting great Wits The Manners of the Age. 21 Wits who account it an equal Weakneſs, either to weep or laugh out of Meafure, can we expect to be tickled by a Tragical Adventure? And beſides, is not Truth as naturally repreſented in that as in a Comical one? Therefore as we do not think it ridiculous to ſee a whole Audience laugh at a rner- ry jeſt or humour acted to the Life, but on the con- trary we commend skill both of the Poer and the Actor; ſo the great Violence we uſe upon our ſelves to contain our Tears, together with the forcd a-wry ſmiles with which we ſtrive to conceal our Concern, do forcibly evince that the natural ef- fect of a good Tragedy is to make us all weep by conſent, without any more ado than to pull out our Handkerchiefs to wipe off our Tears. And if it were once agreed amongſt us not to reſiſt thoſe tender impreſſions of Pity, I dare engage that we would ſoon be convinc'd that by frequenting the Play-houſe we run leſs danger of being put to the expence of Tears, then of being almoſt frozen to Death by many a cold, dull inſipid Jeft. We muſt make it our inain Buſineſs and Study to think and write well, and not labour to ſubmit other People's Palates and Opinions to our own; which is the greater difficulty of the two. One ſhould ſerve his time to learn how to make a Book, juſt as ſome Men do learn how to make a watch, for there goes fomething more than ei- ther Wit or Learning to the ſetting up for an Au- thor. A Lawyer of this Town was an able, ſub- tle and experienc'd Man in the way of his Bufi- neſs, and might for ought I know, have came to be Lord Chief Juſtice, but he has lately miſcarried in the Good'Opinion of the World, only by Prin- ting ſome Efſays which are a Maſter-piece-in Nonefence. นายธรรม It C 3 22 The Manners of the Age. It is a more difficult matter to get a Name by a Perfe&t Compoſure, than make an indifferent one va- lued by that Reputation a Man has already got in the World. † An Author may write beyond Cenſure, but not beyond Envy. There are ſome things which admit of no me- diocrity; ſuch as Poetry, Painting, Mufick and Ora- tory What Torture can be greater than to hear Doctor F declaim a flat Oration with formality and Pomp, or D-read his Pyndaricks with all the Emphaſis of a Dull Poet. We have not as yet feen any excellent Piece, but what is owning to the Labour of one ſingle Man: Homer. for the purpoſe, has writ the Iliad; Virgil, the Æneid; Livy his Decads; and the Ro- man Orator his Orations; but our modern ſeveral Hands preſent us often with nothing but a Variety of Errors. There is in the Arts and Sciences ſuch a Point of Perfection, as there is one of Goodneſs or matul- rity in Fruits; and he that can find and reliſh it muſt be allowed to have a True Taſte; but on the contrary, he that neither perceives it, not likes any thing on this fide, or beyond it, has but a defective Palate. Hence I conclude that there is a bad Taſte and a good one, and that the diſputing about Taſtes is not altogether unreaſonable. The Lives of Heroes have enricht Hiſtory, and Hiſtory in requital has embelliſhed and heightened the Lives of Heroes, ſo that it is no eaſie matter to determine which of the two is more beholden to the other : Either Hiſtorians, to thoſe who have furniſhed them with ſo great and noble a Matter to work upon ; or thoſe great Men, to thoſe Writers that have convey'd their Names and At- chievements The Manners of the Age. 23 chievements down to the Admirations of after Ages. There are many of our Wits that feed for a while upon the Ancients, and the beſt of our Modern Authors : and when they have ſqueez'd out and ex- tracted matter enough to appear in Print and ſet up for themſelves, moſt ungratefully abuſe them, like Children grown ſtrong and Luſty by the good milk they have ſucked, who generally beat their Nurſes. A Modern Author proves both by Reaſons and Examples that the Ancients are inferior to us ; and fetches his Arguments from his own parti- cular Taft, and his Examples from his own Writings. He owns, That the Ancients tho generally uneven and uncorrect, have yet here and there ſome fine Touches, and indeed theſe are ſo fine, that the quoting of them is the only thing that makes his Critiſcims worth a Mans reading 'em. Some great Men pronounce for the Ancients a- gainſt the Moderns : But their own Compoſures are ſo agreeable to the Taſte of Antiquity, and bear ſo great a reſemblance with the Patterns they have left us, that they ſeem to be Judges in their own Caſe and being ſuſpected of Partiality, are there- fore exceptionable. † There is a faſhion for Wit as well as Cloaths, therefore the preſent is no proper Judge of what is paft, nor ſhould pretend to give Laws for what is to come. It is the Character of a Pedant to be unwilling either to ask a Friend's Advice about his Work or to alter what he has been made ſenſible to be a We ought to read our Writings to thoſe only, who have Judgment enough to correct what is amiſs, and eſteem what deſerves to be commend- ed. An fault. C4 24 The Manners of the Age. An Author, ought to receive with an equal Mo- deſty both the Praiſe and Cenſure of other People npon his own Works. A great facility in ſubmitting to other People's Cenſure is ſometimes as faulty as a great rough- neſs in reje&ting it : for there is no Compoſure fo every way accompliſht, but what would be parted and clipped to nothing if a Man would fol- low the Advice of every finical ſcrupulous Critick, who often would have the beſt things left out becauſe forſooth, they are not agreeable to his dull Palate. The great pleaſure fome People take in Criticize ing upon the small Faults of a Book ſo vitiates their Taſte, that it renders them unfit to be affe£Z- ed with it's Beauties. The fame niceneſs of Judgment which makes ſome Men write Sence, makes them very often fhy and unwilling to appear in Print. Among the ſeveral Expreſſions we may uſe for the ſame thought, there is but an individual one which is good and proper ; any other but that is flat and imperfect, and cannot pleaſe an ingenious Man that has a Mind to explain what he thinks : And it is no ſmall wonder to meto Contider, what Pains, even the beſt of Writers are ſometimes at, to ſeek out that Expreſſion, which being the moſt fimple and natural, ought conſequently to have preſented it ſelf without Study, 'Tisto no grear purpoſe that a Man ſeeks to make himſelf admir'd by his Compoſures : Blockheads, indeed, may oftentimes admire him, but then they are but Blockheads; and as for Wits they have in themſelves the Seeds or hints of all the Good and Fine things that can poſſibly be thought of or ſaid, and The Manners of the Age. 25 and therefore they feldom admire any thing, but only approve of what hits their Palate. The being a Critick is not ſo much a Science as a fort of labourious, and painful Employment, which requires more ſtrength of Body, than de- licacy Wit, and more Alliduity than Natura) Parts. As ſome merit Praiſe for writing well, ſo do others for not writing at all. That Author who chiefly endeavours to pleaſe the Taſte of the Age he lives in, rather conſults his private intereſt; than that of his Writings. We ought always to have perfetion in Proſpect as the chief thing we aim at, and that Point once gain'd, we may reſt aſſured that unbyaffed pofterity will do us Juſtice, which is often deny'd us by our Contemporaries. 'Tis Matter of diſcretion in an Author to be extreamly reſervd and modeft when he ſpeaks of the Work he is upon, for fear he ſhould raiſe the World's Expectation too high: For it is moſt certain, that our Opinion of an extraordinary Pro- miſe, goes always further than the Performance, and a Man's Reputation cannot be much leſſen'd by ſuch a Diſparity. The Name of the Author ought to be the laſt Thing we enquire into, when we Judge of the Merit of an Ingenious Compoſure, but contrary to this Maxim we generally judge of the Book by the Author, inſtead of judging of the Author by the Book. + Here is a Phyſician writes a Critiſme upon Poetry : another Gentleman of the Faculty writes two Folio's in Heroicks, a third obligʻd the World with a Treatiſe of State Affairs : Their Wit has doubtleſs carry'd 'em out of the way, for Practice was 26 The Manners of the Age, was more neceſſary to 'em than applauſe, and he that views 'em by thofe Lights will call in Queſtion their Skill as Doctors, they ſhou'd be Famous for Phyfick, not for Fables. As we fee Women that without the Knowledge of Men do ſometimes bring forth inanimate and formleſs Lumps of Fleſh, but to cauſe a natural and perfect Generation, they are to be husbanded by another kind of Seed, even fo it is with Wit which if not applied to fome certain ſtudy that may fix and reſtrain it, runs into a thouſand Extra- vagancies, and is eternally roving here and there in the inextricable Labyrinth of reftleſs Imagina- tion. If every one who hears or reads a good Sentence or maxim would immediately conſider how it does any way touch his own private concern, he would foon find, that it was not ſo much a good ſaying, as a ſevere lafh to the Ordinary Beſtiality of his Judgment ; but Men receive the Precepts and ad- monitions of Truth as generally directed to the common fort and never particularly to themſelves, and inſtead of applying them to their own man- ners, do only very ignorantly and unprofitably com- mit them to Memory, without ſuffering themſelves to be at all inſtructed, or converted by them. We ſay of fome Compofitions, that they ſtink of Oil and ſmell of the Lamp, by Reaſon of a certain rough harſhneſs that the laborious hand- ling imprints upon thoſe, where great force has been employed: but beſides this, the folicitude of doing well, and a certain ſtriving and contending of a mind too far ſtrain'd, and over-bent upon its un- dertaking, breaks and hinders it feif, like Water that by force of its own preſſing Violence and A- bundance cannot find a ready iffue through the neck of a Bortle, or narrow ſluice. Hu- The Manners of the Age. 27 Humour, Temper, Education and a thouſand o- ther Circumſtances create ſo great a difference bes twixt the ſeveral Palates of Men, and their Judg- ments upon ingenious Compofures, that nothing can be more chimerical and fooliſh in an Author than the Ambition of a general Reputation. As Plants are ſuffocated and drownd with too much nouriſhment, and Lamps with too much Oyl, fo is the active part of the underſtanding with too much Study and Matter, which being em- baraſs'd and confounded with the Diverſity of things is deprived of the force and power to diſin- gage it ſelf; and by the Preſſure of this weight, it is bow'd, ſubjected and rendred of no uſe. * Studious and inquiſitive Men commonly at forty or fifty at the moſt, have fixed and ſettled their judgments in moſt Points, and as it were made their laſt underſtanding, fuppofing they have thought, or read, or heard what can be ſaid on all ſides of things, and after that they grow pofitive and im- patient of Contradiction, thinking it a diſparage- ment to them to alter their Judgment. All Skillful Maſters ought to have a care not to let their Works be ſeen in Embryo, for all begin- nings are defective, and the imagination is always prejudiced. The remembring to have ſeen a thing imperfe&t takes from one the Liberty of thinking it pretty when it is finiſh’d. + This Man writes a Book out of Lucre offel- ling the Copy : That has nothing in his Eye but a flattering Dedication : Neither of them are dif- appointed, tho' the Bookſeller is half undone by + If Men of Quality were as able to Judge as they are to reward, it would be an Advantage to their Purſes as well as their Reputations. Ma. them. 28 The Manners of the Age: Many fetch a tedious Compaſs of Words, without ever coming to the Knot of the Buſineſs : They make a Thouſand Turnings and Wind- ings, that tire themſelves and others, without ever arriving at the Point of Importance. That proceeds from the Confuſion of their Under- Itanding, which cannot clear it felf. They loſe Time and Patience in what ought to be let alone, and then they have no more to beſtow upon what they have omitted. It is the Knack of Men of Wit to find out Eva- fions ; With a touch of Gallantry they extricate themſelves out of the greateſt Labyrinth. A grace- ful ſmile will make them avoid the moſt dange- Tous Quarrel. Women, Love, Intrigues, &c. THe Men and the Women feldom agree upon the Eſtimate of the Merit of a Woman : their In- tereſts are too oppoſite: The Women diſpleaſe one another by the fame Charms that captivate Mens Hearts, and the ſame thing that excites great Par- fions in theſe, raiſes Averſion and Antipathy a- mongſt the Others. If Women expect their Lovers, they always dreſs to the beſt Advantage, but if they are ſurprized by their Viſits, they preſently forget the irregulari- ty of their dreſs, and mind themſelves no lon- ger. But with Perſons that are indifferent, they have leiſure to reflect on the Diſorder of their Negligence, and either dreſs themſelves before them, or diſappear for a Moment, and come in again with all their attire. + A The Manners of the Age. 29 the World. † A fine Face is the fineſt of Sights, and the Voice of her one Loves, the ſweeteſt Harmony in Agreableneſs is arbitrary, but Beauty is ſomething more real and independent upon the Palate and Opinion. Caprice in Women is generally an attendant of Beauty, to be as it were its Antidote againſt the further Miſchief it might do to the Men. Women engage themſelves to the Men by the Fa- vours they grant them ; Men on the contrary diſingage themſelves from the Women by the Fa- vours they receive. + A Woman will think her ſelf ſlighted if ſhe is not courted, yet pretends to know her ſelf too well to believe your flattery. When Women ceaſe to love their Gallants, they Forget even the Favours they have granted them. A Woman that has but one Gallant thinks her ſelf to be no Coquet ; She that has ſeveral concludes her ſelf no more than a Coquet. Many a Woman prevents being thought a Co- quet by her Conſtancy to one, that paſſes for a Fool for her ill Choice. There are few Love Intrigues that are kept Se- ciet; and a great many Ladies are as well known by their Gallants as by their Husbands. The difference betwixt an Amorous Lady, and a Coquet, is, that the firſt is for being Lov'd, and the other only for paſſing for Handſom and Love- ly. The one deſigns to engage us, and the other only to pleaſe us : The Intriguing Woman paffes from one Amour to another ſucceſſively ; the Co- quet has ſeveral Amuſements at once; Paffion and Pleafure are predominant in the firſt, Vanity and Levity 30 The Manners of the Age. Levity in the other. Gallantry is a Weakneſs of the Heart, or perhaps a defect of Conſtitution : But a Coquetiſh' Humour is an Irregularity, or De- bauchery of the Mind. To conclude, an Amorous Woman makes her ſelf to be Fear'd, and a Coquet to be Hated. From theſe two Characters we may frame another, the worſt of the three. A Weak Woman is ſhe whom we tell of her Faults, who reproaches her ſelf with them; whoſe Inclination is in a perpetual Conflict with her Reaſon ; who deſires to mend, who ſhall never mend, at leaſt but very late. A Woman is Inconſtant when ſhe ceaſes to Love ; Fickle, when ſhe begins to Love another ; Light, when ſhe does not know her ſelf whether ſhe Loves or no ; Indifferent, when ſhe loves nothing. A great many Ladieš take abundance of Pains to conceal their Amours under a great deal of Reſerve and Modefty, that get no more by their continued Affectations, than to make People ſay at laft, Lord! I took her for a Saint. The Shyneſs and Reſerve of hand fom Women, is only a more artificial Paint which they uſe to ſet off their Beauty. There are Woman that love their Money better than their Friends, and their Lovers better than their Money. 'Tis ſtrange to find in fome Womens Hearts fome- thing more quick and ſtrong than the love of Men; I mean Ambition, and the Paſſion of Gaming. Such Women make Men chaft, they have nothing of their Sex but the Petticoat. Women run into Extreams, and are generally ei- ther better or worſe than Menos 1975 enti There The Manners of the Age. 31 There is no ſuch thing as Principles in Women ? they conduct themſelves by the Heart, and depend for their Manners, upon thoſe they love. Women go further in Love than Men, but Men outſtript them in Friendſhip. "Tis the Men's fault that women hate one ano. ther. A Man is more reſerved, and ſecret in his Friend's Concern than his own ; a Woman on the contrary keeps her own Secret better than ano- ther's There is never fo ſtrong a Love in a young La- dy's Breaſt, but what may receive fome Addition either from Ambition or Intereſt. + Love in its Infancy lefſens every Fault, in its Declenſion, it not only agravates 'em, but mul- tiplies 'em How many Maids are there in the World that never reaped any other Advantage from a great Beauty, than the Expectation of a Rich Hus: band? There is a time when Maids, even thoſe that have the moſt conſiderable Fortunes, ought ſeriouſly to think of beſtowing themſelves, left their refu- fal of the firſt Proffers, be attended with a long and bitter Repentance. The Reputation of their Riches does generally decreaſe with that of their Beauty, but on the contrary, every thing is favou- rable to a young Lady, and Men are content to heighten all the Advantages that can moſt ftir up their Paſſion, and make her worthy of their Applications and Deſires. Handſome Ladies do generally Juſtice upon them- ſelves for the ill Treatments they have done to ſome of their Lovers, by marrying either ugly, old, or at leaſt undeſerving Husbands. Most The Manners of the Age. Moſt Women judge of the Merit and Perſonal Accompliſhments of Men, by the Impreſſion they make upon them, and will ſcarce allow any to that Man, whom they can ſee 'without Con- cern. When a Man is at a loſs to know whether Age has made any conſiderable Alteration in his Per- ſon, he may conſult the Eyes and Tone of the Voice of thoſe young Women he accoſts; he will ſoon learn what he is afraid to know ; But this is an unpleaſant way of Learning. A Woman that is always caſting her Eyes upon the fame Man, or that turns them away continu- ally from him, gives us an equal Suſpicion of what The feels. It is eaſie for a Woman to ſay what ſhe does not feel; but it is yet more eaſie for a Man to ſay what he does feel. It happens ſometimes, that while the Woman diſſemble a true Paſſion, the Man diſſembles a falſe one. Chaſtity in moſt Women is but the Love of their own Quiet, and a tenderneſs of their Reputa- tion. † Nothing can provoke a Woman more, than the preferring another before her. Vanity, Shame, and eſpecially a ſuitable Conſti- țution are generally the Cauſes of the Courage of Men, and the Virtue of Women. A Coquet Humour is the very Nature and Proper- ty of Women. And if ſome do not practice it, 'tis becauſe they are reſtrained either by fear or better Senſe. There can be no ſuch thing as Rules in the Mind or Heart of Women, if their Conſtitution be not conſenting niy talabas The The Manners of the Age, 33 The Affliction of Women upon their dead Lo- Vers , proceeds not ſo much from the Love they had' for them, as from a Deſire to get others by a ſhew of Tenderneſs and Humanity. There are few Honeſt Women but what are weary of their Trade of being ſo. The generality of Honeſt Women are like hidden Treaſures, which are ſafe only becauſe no body feeks after them. Moft Women yield rather out of Weakneſs than Love; and this is the Reaſon, that a bold daring Fellow fooner gains their Favour; than a Faint-hearted, tho' more accompliſh'd Com- petitor. + Beauty is a real Merit in a Woman, but there muſt be a prodigious quantity of Virtue to make an ugly Woman ſupportable. A Lady's firſt Intrigue is feldom taken Notice of before ſhe has a ſecond. There are ſome Women that never had an In- trigue, but there is ſcarce any that never had but A Woman in Love will ſooner forgive a great In- diſcretion than a finall Infidelity. + Love is like an Excentric Star regular only to its ſelf. S 1970 Women are feldom acquainted with all their Co- quet Humours. t Coyneſs in moft Women is but Affectation, a virtue of only Decency. Women are never abſolutely reſerv'd, except where they have an Averſion. Women can more ea fily conquer their Paſſion than one: their Coquet Humour. D Youth 34 The Manners of the Age. Youth without Beauty in a Woman, fignifies as lit- tle as Beauty without Touth. Women often think to be in Love, when there is no ſuch thing. The Diverſion of an Intrigue, the Commotions that an Amour raiſes in their Breafts, the natural inclination to the pleaſure of being Courted, and the Trouble of Denying, makes them fancy, that what they feel is Paflion, when in Truth it is nothing but a Coquet Humour. A Woman's Reſentment againſt a Man that brags of her Favours, is not fo much an Argument of her Vertue, as an Inclination to be kind to one that could keep Counſel. et bortes Women are pleas'd with Courtſhip, and the moſt diſdainful cannot but be Complaiſant to thoſe that tell them they are Handſom. Nothing is ſo unaccountable as the Caprices of Women : For it frequently happens, that the firſt Applications of a new Face, gain more upon them than the long Services of a Conſtant Old There is no Court but where Women have Credit and Intereſts; no State Intrigues, but they have a hand in them. + A Man may eaſily impoſe upon a Woman by a pretendei Paſſion, provided he have no real one for another. + Love magnifies and approaches all the good Qualities of the Object belov'd, but turns the Tube upon its failings, ſo that they not only ſeem leſs, but at a greater diſtance. Suppoſe a Man that is indifferent for all Wo- men, have a mind to pretend a Paſſion, the Que- ſtion is, whether he will ſooner impofe upon that Woman that has a Kindneſs for him, than her that has none ? The one. The Manners of the Age. 35 5 Modeſty in a Woman, ſuppoſes all other Ver- The greateſt Concern of a Woman in Love, is hot to perſwade her own Paffion, as to be fatis- fied of that of the Perſon ſhe loves. Women are cured of their natural Lazineſs either by Vanity or Love. Lazineſs, on the contrary, in Women naturally brisk and airy, is the Forerunner of Love A Man breaks out into a Paſſion againſt an un- faithful Miſtreſs , and then forgets her; a Woman on the contrary, makes but little Noiſe at the In- fidelitỷ of her Lover, but keeps a long while her Reſentments * Women are feldom Cheated, but they are acceſſary to it : For did they not Hatter them- ſelves, Men could not ſo eaſily Impoſe upon them. * He that Marries for Riches, is agreeably, diſappointed, if he meets with a good Wife : But that unexpected Happineſs is ſeldom his † To be often in Love, ſhews Levity of Mind, but to be never fo, Stupidity. Women are neither thoſe Angels, nor thoſe “Devils we make 'em ; for bating Propagation, they differ but little from Men in any thing. + A Woman is oftner unhappy in the Perſon ſhe chufes, than in the Favour ſhe grants. + 'Tis a hard matter to prevail with a Woman to own ſhe loves you; but when ſhe has once done it, ſhe has no further Secrét to keep from Dis dan tues; Immodeſty, all other Vices. Women generally take greater Care of their D 2 Lot. cc CC you. co Re- 36 The Manners of the Age. CC Reputation than Men of theirs : Why then do we account 'em the weaker Sex? * Women complain of their Lovers Inconſtan- cy without Reaſon. Their Humours, their Faces, their Charms, daily change : Why ſhould Men be debard the fame Privilege ? 56 An Amour without any Diſturbance, is too “ like Marriage : There muſt be Quarrels to make way for the Pleaſure of Reconcilements : There « muſt be difficulties for the Tranſport of over- “coming them: There muſt be Myſtery not to “ divide with any the ſweetneſs of a tender Com- merce. But now-a-days as Men and Women manage the Matter, the Spirit of Love is quite “loft: The Spark ſees the Lady at the Play, writes “ her a Billet-Doux, makes an Appointment in the Pit, or near Rofamond’s Pound: She meets him “in a Mask; they go to Philips's and from thence es to the World's-End, or to a private Lodging in Plumb-Tree. Street, and there's an end of an Intrigue, which in three days becomes Town- CC CC CC CC " Talk † When à Woman has granted that one Thing, The afterwards can hardly refuſe any thing.se * We don't always love the woman we think Handſom, tho' we ſeldom love a Woman but we think her Handſome * Love is the moſt unaccountable of all Paſſions, for it is never fo violent, but one unexpected Acti- on may turn it to Hatred. ut ca asal sa sro * Fealouſie in a Husband, generally ripens into Cuckoldom. * Women can't endure a Fealous Husband, yet are well enough pleas'd with a fealous Lover. med to 90 Binang sios vilmanog most Quar- The Manners of the Age. 37 - Quarrelling Lovers ſhould never take amifs the bitter Reproaches that can be uſed : For that in- temperance of their Speech is a Mark of the great- neſs of their Value for each other. et * A Jealous Husband who finds out his Wife; gets this by the Bargain, That it cures him of his Jealouſie, which is one of the worſt Torments a Man can have ; and who would not bear with a fawcy Companion to get rid of the Devil. * Women will chuſe to Intrigue with a Man that wants Senſe, rather than with one that wants Manners and Diſcretion. * Women are generally undone by their own Sex, more than by ours. + The weakeſť Judgments have the ſtrongeſt Paſſions. DAL.03 "Why do you wonder at Cefius's marrying 5 Glyceria : 'tis true ſhe has improved her Fortune " by the Venture of her Reputation ; but has not Cefius done the fame? And is he not as vile a "Wretch, as ſhe a mercenary Tilt? Methinks they are extreamly well Match d.om " The predominant Paſſion in a Woman, is the vanity of being talk'd of: Cefonia is ſo far from being diſpleas'd to find her Name in the “ Tunbridge Lampoon, that the diſperſes it her- 66 66 GC °C ce felf. † Women would be an uſeful as well as agree- able Amuſement to Mankind, if they did not make ſo deep an Impreſſion. arols "Moſt Women are as eager to Marry a Fool, as moſt Men to Marry a Fortune. Orto D Sret « A D3 38 The Manners of the Age. CC “A Woman is never indifferent as long as the complains of the Falfhood of her Lover ; for if “ fhe did not retain an 'Affe&tion for the Vow- < breaker, ſhe would not be uneaſy at his Perfidi- " ouſneſs. "Tis hard to determine which is more trouble- “ fome to undergo to a Man of Senlė, either the extream Reſerve and Shyneſs of fome Women " before they yield; or their Fondneſs after they “ have yielded. + The Reaſon why Women have a greater ſhare in State Intrigues in France, than they generally have in England, is, becauſe France is Governd by Men, and England by Lars; the former they know how to manage, the latter they are not bred to underſtand. † Women are generally cheated in their firſt In- trigue, as Men are commonly bubbled when they firit enter upon Play. "To give a true Reaſon of Conſtancy and Incon- "ſtancy, is more the Buſineſs of an Anatomist, or « Naturalift, than cf a Moral Philoſopher , for they « rather depend upon the Frame of the Body, than Co the Conſtitution of the Mind. + The beſt Stomachs can eat longeſt of the fame Diſl, for which Reaſon perhaps, Women are gene- rally more Conſtant than Men. + Whar Women call Inconftancy in us, is not an Argument of Levity, but their inſufficiency to Pleaſe. 2 + Love is often begun without Deſign, and car- ried on we know not why. “There The Manners of the Age. 39 SC their husband for it.com « There are few Women that would not rather 5 chooſe to be Divorc'd from their Husbands, than to loſe their Gallants. If Divorce was to be come by without the trouble of ſuing for an Act of Parliament, “'twould raife the Pleaſures of a Married Life, and ſink the Delights of Intriguing. “When a Shrem turns complaiſant, 'tis an in- “fallible ſign ſhe Cuckolds her Husband. My « Lord Toper would never have ſuſpected his “Wife's Intriguing with Horatio, had not the be- gun to be leſs Imperious and Domineering. † A Woman's Chaſtity is not to be endur'd where the expects an uncontrolable Authority "To give the Women their due, few of them are falſe till their Husbands provoke them 'Tis the moſt unpardonable Sin in the World, to tell a Woman that ſhe's Old, My Lord A who was a great Courtier, us'd to ſay to his La- dy every New year's Day, Well, Madain, How Old will your Ladyſbij be pleasd to be this Year? We can't properly call that Man a Cuckold, who knows nothing of his being ſo. My Lord Whiffler's Wife is, to outward appearance, a Saint, but at bottom, the moft inſatiable Thais that ever grac'd a Court : Yet my Lord Whifler drinks mer- rily, Snoars contentedly, and believes her Honeſt. T'other Day he made a Viſit to Cloridor, whoſe Wife denies her ſelf no innocent Freedoms, but is as Chaft as a Veftal. Lord ! crys my Lord . Whif- fler to himſelf what an unlucky Wretch is Clori- dor, to have ſuch a Viper in his Boſom! and how happy I with my innocent Turtle ! POO 23dos vote ono 216 D 4941 60* The to it. t 19 * 40 The Manners of the Age. 1* The Marriage Ceremony is perform'd in moſt Countries by the Prieſts, who, if they equally prerended to the Power of Loofing, as they do to that of Tying, they would have more Buſineſs upon their Hands. 10 SA T 10 anosite F TIM att sin blooms As nothing is fo Honourable as an Ancient Friend- ſhip, fo nothing is fo Scandalous as an old Paſſion. Conítancy oftentimes brings the Reputation of a Lady's Beauty and Merit in Queſtion; for, who knows whether ſhe reſolv'd to Love but one Per- fon, or whether it was her Misfortune to make but one fingle Conqueſt? pitan There's a vaſt difference between the Difguſts that an old Engagement gives us, and the pleaſant Inquietuds of a growing Paſſion. In a new Amour, we paſs every Hour of the Day with freſh Satis- faction. 'Tis an unexpreſſible Pleaſure to find that our Love grows upon us every Minute, but in a Paſſion of an old itanding, our time is ſpent very uneaſily, in ſtill loving leſs, or nor loving VI. Z TESY W 192 VD Either common Civility, or good Manners, or the confideration of our private Intereſts, may make us live well enough with Perſons that are indifferent to us. But ihow miſerably do we paſs our Lives either with them whom we love when we find that we are not Belov'd again, or with thoſe we once have Lov'd, when we find we can Love them no longer i abem si vrel 1940'T tai todemolas1 nonch on Ust ns11 csingbátil Æmilia lis an antiquated Maid, Cenforious and Deformd ;:ſhe has often bribd Midwives and other Gollips to prodaim her for a great Fortune, and twenty times igiven "Moneyi tori bes joyn'd in a Lampoon, with twenty fparks one after another, at all. to The Manners of the Age. 41. to try if ſomething would come out. But after all her Intriguing, ſhe could never yet find any one Cully enough to Marry her : Yet the perpe- tually tells every one ſhe ſees, what advantage- ous Matches ſhe has refus d in her time, ſuch a Lord Languiſh'd, and ſuch a Knight ran Mad for her. Tis Riches or Poverty after all, that makes “either the Vice or Vertue. A Prince's Miſtreſs « lives in the Grand Monde; and has a ſplendid Equipage; is admitted to the Circle, and keeps her Viſliting-day, where the moſt reſervd and " Vertuous, diſdain not to reſort. Whereas, a poor Jilt is fhun'd by all her Sex, and is fain to cringe to a Scoundrel Drawer at the Roſe, to be introduc'd to a drunken Culley. SV 91 911 ore We were going to the Government of the Young Marchioneſs Æmilia's' Husband, where ſhe was expected, and great Preparations were made on the Road for her Reception, and the old Marchioneſs Sophia a Widow of Fifty, Travelling as her Com- panion, had her ſhare of all the Honours and Ci- vilities that were paid to the other. At the firſt Cia ty where we arriv'd, as ſoon as we had alighted out of the Coach, Æmilia was invired to a very plea- fant Walk, and a Collation without the Town ; and it being Summer-time, ſhe embrac'd the Mo- tion : But Sophia taking an Air of Authority upon her, ſaid, It would be much better to go to Church, and hear asgood Sermon there. Æmilia told her, She might go thither if the pleas?d, while the walk. This Anſwer cruelly nettled the Widow, but the diffembled the Matter as well as the could, and taking the next way to the Church, The took 42 The Manners of the Age. The deſir’d me to bear her Company thither. Al- though this fit of devotion feemd ſomewhat un- ſeaſonable to me, yet good Manners would not fuffer me to let her walk alone. So with her I went, and all the way had the Satisfaction to hear her vent her godly Spleen very plentifully at Æmilia ; ſhe told a hundred reproachful Sto- ries of her; nay, ſhe did not forbear to Cenſure even her Conduct. This Language continued till ſhe came into the Church Porch. I admir'd with my ſelf, how it was poſſible for fo Zealous a Ser- mon-Hunter to be ſo damnably Cenforious. All the while ſhe was at Church, ſhe made up her Mouth as demurely as the beſt of the Con- gregation : As ſoon as it was over, ſhe reaſſumed the old Argument, and rail'd on as faſt as her malicious Lungs would give her leave, till we came to the Young Marchioneſs, whom we found walking in the Garden. I had there an op- portunity to Diſcourſe the Young Lady in Private, and to fatisfie my felf whether there had been any former Quarrel between them, turn'd the Con- verſation upon Sophia, of whom ſhe ſpoke in ve- ry obliging Terms, and did not ſay the leaſt Syl. lable of her that was diſreſpectful. I then made no difficulty to conclude, that this formal Hypo- crite, who was perpetnally diſgorging broken ends of Sermons, and pelting every Body that came near her with Texts of Scripture, but was nothing near fo Vertuous at bottom, as the young Lady, who kept her Devotion to her felf; and I made a thouſand Obſervations during this ſhort Journey, that fully confirm'd me in this Opinion. w 's 1001 bei jod wobi W doodt ou voye Axon sis gnist baie binoo The od! The Manners of the Age. 43 Bed The Young Marchioneſs ſpent but half an Houſ nally Railing, Cenfuring, and Back-biting; but at her Toilette, and always got ready one of the firſt for her Journey, the old Lady ſpent no leſs than three Hours in Tricking her felt , and made the Company perpetually tarry for her. Our Re- ligious Dame, for all her pretences to Mortifica- tion, thought it no Sin to Patch and Paint ; Æmilia content with her Face ſuch as Heav'n made it, ſcorn'd to have recourſe to ſuch Artifices. Sophia muſt always have her Jellies and Broths, and Caudles, and the Lord knows what, brought to her before ſhe would venture her Carkas out of ; Æmilia never thought of Eating, till the very moment before ſhe went into her Coach. The Young Lady was always in good Humour, ſpoke well of every Body, was farisfied with eve- ry thing, and carefully avoided all the Compli- ments and Honours that were done her, in a Country where the was Miſtreſs. The old Wi- dow, who was a perfect Stranger in it, not only took' every occafion to receive them, but was al- ways complaining, that ſhe had not Reſpect e- nough paid her. The Beds were never good e- nough for her ; the Dinner pleaſed her ; the Ser- vants were always Sawcy, or Negligent, the Bills Unreaſonable : the Coachman either drowe too faſt, or to flow : Still the found one Opportunity or another, to vent her Pious Indignation. No Bo- dy's Name could be mention'd to her, but ſtill the found ſomething to blame in their Conduct. Then ſhe was the moſt imperious Devil alive to her Servants, none of her Women ever liv’d a full Fortnight with her. In ſhort, ſhe was eter- ſtill ſhe did it with a Godly Air, and in the Lan- guage of the Old Teſtament. Now, 44 The Manners of the Age. Now, if any one ſhould ask me the Queſtion, which of theſe two I thought to have the moſt Religion, I ſhould immediately declare my ſelf in Favour of the Young Marchioneſs ; and yer to ſee how Impartially the World Judges of Perfons, the young Lady paſſes by common Conſent, for a Wo. man that is wholly devoted to the World, and the other is univerſally taken for a Saint. Thus we ſee how eaſily the World is impos'd upon by a fair outſide, and Glittering Appear- ances. 'Tis true, your Perſons of Senſe ſee through thoſe thin Diſguiſes, and are ſenſible of the Cheat, but where you meet one of that Character, you find ten thouſand Fools, that always aſlift to deceive themſelves. * * In Pegu and fome other Regions, the King and thoſe of the greateſt Quality lie not the firſt Night with their Wives, but admit others, and pay them bountifully that will give themſelves the Trouble. With all due Reſpe&t be it ſpoken; I humbly Conceive, that one half at leaſt of the Married Men in this Kingdom, if they would ſpeak their Minds freely, muſt do their Wives this Juſtice, as to own that they ſav'd then this Porter's Drudgery, as King Charles II. rightly call'd it. * Your unmannerly Folks in the Country ſtare at ab Cuckold as much as here we do at a King's Evidence, juſt after a new Plot; yet London's a Civil Place, and we think him no Prodigy} for ºtis the rarity that makes the Monſter. 'Tis only the Marryed Men that are not Cuckolds, that, properly ſpeaking, are the Monſters here : As in Guinea, 'tis not thoſe that have huge Lips and flat won No. The Manners of the Age. 45 CC Beaux are forward to put in, and will cheer- “nity of preſenting her with a Toy. In ſhort, Noſes, but thoſe that have them otherwiſe are re- ally the Deform’d. * Bad Wine and ugly Women, are better Argu- ments for Sobriety and Continence, than what all the Volumes of Morality can afford. 91H < Burlus is one of Fortune's Favourites, and rolls "in Plenty in the times of greateſt Scarcity. If “the Senate give our Emperors Subſidies for the “ Subſiſtence of the Legions, who but Burlus has the fingering of the Money? And who knows better than he how to fill his Coffers by the Spoil of "Fifty Thouſand Men ? Now, what ſhall Burlus a do with his great Heaps of Gold and Silver ? "Let him alone : The beſt Architects are building Chim a Sumptuous Palace, and his Gardens will · come in Competition with thoſe of “ Tybur. The moſt Famous Carvers exert their “ Skill to Adorn his Palace, and the moſt Cele. “ brated Painters are Buſie about his Ceilings, Stare-caſes and Viſta's. Well, is not this fuffi- cient to content Burlus's Vanity? No, -- He muſt purchaſe the brighteſt Beauty in all the Empire at the rate of Three Thouſand Pounds a Year for Pin-Money; Pray, for what Uſe? Why, for the ſame uſe he buys fine Pictures and Statues, to gratifie his fight. Melania goes to Tunbridge, and is no ſooner got to the Walks, but all the Beau-Monde flocks about her : the Mufick ſtrikes the. Tune ſhe likes beft , Leveridge or Lindſey is at Hand to entertain her with a Song ; if ſhe Raffles, all the fully looſe twenty Stakes, to have the opportu- every CC C5 CC сс 46 The Manners of the Age. ૮૮ CC Ćc CC CC every Body ſtrives to pleaſe Melaniaz and all other Beauries are neglected upon her Account : Yer Melania is preſently tir'd with Tunbridge, and muſt needs poſt it to the Bath in a Coach and “Six. Here ſhe receives the fame Reſpects that were paid her at Tunbridge, and the Diverſions of the Place redouble upon her Arrival. But " Melania grows weary of the Bath, and will go to London. Pray, what's the Reaſon of this uneafie Humour ? Why, her Husband follows her where- ever ſhe goes. I cannot underſtand how an Old Husband who gives himſelf up to his ill Humour and Temper, who conceals none of his ill Qualities, but on the contrary expoſes them all; is Covetous, Sloven- ly, Surly, Rude, Neglectful and Sullen: I can- not conceive, I ſay, how ſuch a Man can hope to defend the Heart of a Young Wife from the At- tempts of a Gallant, who uſes Dreſſing, Magni- ficence, Complaiſance, Care, Affiduity, Preſents and Flattery, to win her. Devotion comes upon ſome People, but eſpe- cially the Women, either as a Paſſion, or as one of the Infirmities of Age, or as a Faſhion, which they are oblig'd to follow. The Ladies reckon the Week by the Employments of the ſeveral Days; They have their Viſiting-days, their days of Ga- ming, of going to the Play, the Indian Houſe; and to Church. On Mondays they throw away their Money at Ilmena's ; on Tueſdays their time at Cli- mene's; on Wedneſdays their Reputation at Celi- mene's, and fo forth. They know over Night what is to be done the next Morning, and enjoy at once the prefent Pleaſure, and the future. They The Manners of the Age. 47 They only wiſh, that 'twere but poflīble to unite ’em both in one Day. For nothing troubles ’em, nothing grieves 'em, but that when they are at Drury-Lane-Houſe, they cannot be the ſame Mo- ment at Lincoln's-Inn-Fields. * Your brisk Fool that cắn make a Leg, is ever a fine Gentleman among the Ladies, becauſe he's juſt of their Talent, and they underſtand him bet- ter than a Wit. 'Tis too much for a Man to have a Wife, both a Coquet and a Bigot ; one of theſe Qualities at once is enough in Conſcience. * There's no ſuch way of publiſhing or pro- claiming any thing, as by enjoyning a woman un- der the Seal of Confeffion to keep it Secret. They that are curious to know forbidden Secrets, are as frank of telling them again, and of enlarging them : So that whoever thews me a very inqui- ſitive Body, I'll ſhew him a blab, and one that ſhall make a Privacy as Publick as a Proclama- tion. * Women are without diſpute, the beſt of Spies, and the moſt proper Inſtruments for Dif covery and Intelligence, eſpecially if they be Wo- men of Addreſs, Wit, and Beauty, for the very Sex has certain Privileges upon the Point of a Cavalier Gallantry and good Breeding, to cover thein from the ftri&tneſs of Search and Examina- tion, that other Agents are commonly Subject to. So that upon the whole, it may be faid, That the Women at the ſame time are both fit and unfit * A real Paſſion for any Woman ſhall make a Man more accompliſh'd in one Months time than an Academy fhall do in ten Years. to be Truſted. * An 4.8 The Manners of the Age. 9 * An Extravagant Love conſults neither Life, Fortune, nor Reputation, but facrifices all that can be dear to a Man of Senſe and Honour, to the Tranſports of an Inconfiderate Paſſion. There's nothing ſo Fierce or fo Savage, but it will fof- ten it, nothing fo generous, but it will Debauch it ; nothing lò ſharp-fighted in other Matters, but it throws a Miſt before the Eyes on't : It puts the Philoſopher beſides his Latin ; and to ſum up all in a little, where this Paſſion Domi- neers, neither Honour nor Vertue is able to ſtand before it: * There are ſome generous Lovers, who are more Jealous and Spited to ſee their Rivals gain the Inclinations of their Miſtreſs, than the Por feffion, and had rather they ſhould have her Body, than her Heart. * There's no ſuch Bawd to a Woman as her own Wit. Poffeffion is fo dangerous to Lovers, that more of them die of Surfeits, than of Fafting. * Natural Impulſes and Inſtincts, are no more to be reaſon'd upon, than they are to be re- fifted. A Coquet is one that is never to be perſwaded out of her Inclination, for appearing always a- greeable, nor out of good Opinion ſhe has of her own Charms. Time and Years ſhe regards as things that wrinkle and decay other Women; and forgets that Age is writ in the Face, and that the ſame Dreſs which became her at Eighteen, does but make her look the older at Forty. Affecta- tion attends her even in Sickneſs and Pain; ſhe dies in a High-Head and Colourd Ribbands. What • The Manners of the Age. 49