My Reader does, I hope, perceive, that I distinguish a Man who is
Absent
, because he thinks of something else, from one who is
Absent
,
because he thinks of nothing at all: The latter is too innocent a
Creature to be taken notice of; but the Distractions of the former may,
I believe, be generally accounted for from one of these Reasons.
Either their Minds are wholly fixed on some particular Science, which is
often the Case of Mathematicians and other learned Men; or are wholly
taken up with some Violent Passion, such as Anger, Fear, or Love, which
ties the Mind to some distant Object; or, lastly, these Distractions
proceed from a certain Vivacity and Fickleness in a Man's Temper, which
while it raises up infinite Numbers of
Ideas
in the Mind, is
continually pushing it on, without allowing it to rest on any particular
Image. Nothing therefore is more unnatural than the Thoughts and
Conceptions of such a Man, which are seldom occasioned either by the
Company he is in, or any of those Objects which are placed before him.
While you fancy he is admiring a beautiful Woman, 'tis an even Wager
that he is solving a Proposition in
Euclid
; and while you may imagine
he is reading the
Paris
Gazette, it is far from being impossible, that
he is pulling down and rebuilding the Front of his Country-house.
At the same time that I am endeavouring to expose this Weakness in
others, I shall readily confess that I once laboured under the same
Infirmity myself. The Method I took to conquer it was a firm Resolution
to learn something from whatever I was obliged to see or hear. There is
a way of Thinking if a Man can attain to it, by which he may strike
somewhat out of any thing. I can at present observe those Starts of good
Sense and Struggles of unimproved Reason in the Conversation of a Clown,
with as much Satisfaction as the most shining Periods of the most
finished Orator; and can make a shift to command my Attention at a
Puppet-Show
or an
Opera
, as well as at
Hamlet
or
Othello
. I
always make one of the Company I am in; for though I say little myself,
my Attention to others, and those Nods of Approbation which I never
bestow unmerited, sufficiently shew that I am among them. Whereas
Will.
Honeycomb
, tho' a Fellow of good Sense, is every Day doing and saying an
hundred Things which he afterwards confesses, with a well-bred
Frankness, were somewhat
mal a propos
, and undesigned.
I chanced the other Day to go into a Coffee-house, where
Will
, was
standing in the midst of several Auditors whom he had gathered round
him, and was giving them an Account of the Person and Character of
Moll
Hinton
. My Appearance before him just put him in mind of me, without
making him reflect that I was actually present. So that keeping his Eyes
full upon me, to the great Surprize of his Audience, he broke off his
first Harangue, and proceeded thus:
'Why now there's my Friend
(mentioning me by my Name) he is a Fellow that thinks a great deal, but
never opens his Mouth; I warrant you he is now thrusting his short Face
into some Coffee-house about 'Change. I was his Bail in the time of
the Popish-Plot, when he was taken up for a Jesuit.'
If he had looked
on me a little longer, he had certainly described me so particularly,
without ever considering what led him into it, that the whole Company
must necessarily have found me out; for which Reason, remembering the
old Proverb,
Out of Sight out of Mind
, I left the Room; and upon
meeting him an Hour afterwards, was asked by him, with a great deal of
Good-humour, in what Part of the World I had lived, that he had not seen
me these three Days.
Bruyère
has given us the Character of
an absent
Man
,
with a great deal of Humour, which he has pushed to an agreeable
Extravagance; with the Heads of it I shall conclude my present Paper.
'Menalcas (says that excellent Author) comes down in a Morning,
opens his Door to go out, but shuts it again, because he perceives
that he has his Night-cap on; and examining himself further finds that
he is but half-shaved, that he has stuck his Sword on his right Side,
that his Stockings are about his Heels, and that his Shirt is over his
Breeches. When he is dressed he goes to Court, comes into the
Drawing-room, and walking bolt-upright under a Branch of Candlesticks
his Wig is caught up by one of them, and hangs dangling in the Air.
All the Courtiers fall a laughing, but Menalcas laughs louder than
any of them, and looks about for the Person that is the Jest of the
Company. Coming down to the Court-gate he finds a Coach, which taking
for his own, he whips into it; and the Coachman drives off, not
doubting but he carries his Master. As soon as he stops, Menalcas
throws himself out of the Coach, crosses the Court, ascends the
Staircase, and runs thro' all the Chambers with the greatest
Familiarity, reposes himself on a Couch, and fancies himself at home.
The Master of the House at last comes in, Menalcas rises to receive
him, and desires him to sit down; he talks, muses, and then talks
again. The Gentleman of the House is tired and amazed; Menalcas is
no less so, but is every Moment in Hopes that his impertinent Guest
will at last end his tedious Visit. Night comes on, when Menalcas is
hardly undeceived.
When he is playing at Backgammon, he calls for a full Glass of Wine
and Water; 'tis his turn to throw, he has the Box in one Hand and his
Glass in the other, and being extremely dry, and unwilling to lose
Time, he swallows down both the Dice, and at the same time throws his
Wine into the Tables. He writes a Letter, and flings the Sand into the
Ink-bottle; he writes a second, and mistakes the Superscription: A
Nobleman receives one of them, and upon opening it reads as follows:
I would have you, honest Jack, immediately upon the Receipt of this,
take in Hay enough to serve me the Winter. His Farmer receives the
other and is amazed to see in it, My Lord, I received your Grace's
Commands with an entire Submission to — If he is at an Entertainment,
you may see the Pieces of Bread continually multiplying round his
Plate: 'Tis true the rest of the Company want it, as well as their
Knives and Forks, which Menalcas does not let them keep long.
Sometimes in a Morning he puts his whole Family in an hurry, and at
last goes out without being able to stay for his Coach or Dinner, and
for that Day you may see him in every Part of the Town, except the
very Place where he had appointed to be upon a Business of Importance.
You would often take him for every thing that he is not; for a Fellow
quite stupid, for he hears nothing; for a Fool, for he talks to
himself, and has an hundred Grimaces and Motions with his Head, which
are altogether involuntary; for a proud Man, for he looks full upon
you, and takes no notice of your saluting him: The Truth on't is, his
Eyes are open, but he makes no use of them, and neither sees you, nor
any Man, nor any thing else: He came once from his Country-house, and
his own Footman undertook to rob him, and succeeded: They held a
Flambeau to his Throat, and bid him deliver his Purse; he did so, and
coming home told his Friends he had been robbed; they desired to know
the Particulars, Ask my Servants, says Menalcas, for they were with
me.
X.
Seneca
de Tranquill. Anim
. cap. xv.
'Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixturâ dementiæ'
Dryden's lines are in Part I of
Absalom and Achitophel
.
Caractères
, Chap. xi. de l'Homme. La Bruyère's Menalque was
identified with a M. de Brancas, brother of the Duke de Villars. The
adventure of the wig is said really to have happened to him at a
reception by the Queen-Mother. He was said also on his wedding-day to
have forgotten that he had been married. He went abroad as usual, and
only remembered the ceremony of the morning upon finding the changed
state of his household when, as usual, he came home in the evening.
Contents
|
Wednesday, May 30, 1711 |
Steele |
The following Letters are so pleasant, that I doubt not but the Reader
will be as much diverted with them as I was. I have nothing to do in
this Day's Entertainment, but taking the Sentence from the End of the
Cambridge
Letter, and placing it at the Front of my Paper; to shew the
Author I wish him my Companion with as much Earnestness as he invites me
to be his.
Sir,
'I Send you the inclosed, to be inserted (if you think them worthy of
it) in your
Spectators; in which so surprizing a Genius appears, that
it is no Wonder if all Mankind endeavours to get somewhat into a Paper
which will always live.
As to the
Cambridge Affair, the Humour was really carried on in the
Way I described it. However, you have a full Commission to put out or
in, and to do whatever you think fit with it.
I have already had the
Satisfaction of seeing you take that Liberty with some things I have
before sent you
1.
Go on, Sir, and prosper. You have the best Wishes of
Sir, Your very Affectionate,
and Obliged Humble Servant.
Cambridge.
Mr, Spectator,
'You well know it is of great Consequence to clear Titles, and it is
of Importance that it be done in the proper Season; On which Account
this is to assure you, that the
Club Of Ugly Faces was instituted
originally at
Cambridge in the merry Reign of King
Charles II. As
in great Bodies of Men it is not difficult to find Members enough for
such a Club, so (I remember) it was then feared, upon their Intention
of dining together, that the Hall belonging to
Clarehall, (the
ugliest
then in the Town, tho'
now the neatest) would not be large
enough
Handsomely to hold the Company. Invitations were made to great
Numbers, but very few accepted them without much Difficulty.
One
pleaded that being at
London in a Bookseller's Shop, a Lady going by
with a great Belly longed to kiss him.
He had certainly been excused,
but that Evidence appeared, That indeed one in
London did pretend
she longed to kiss him, but that it was only a
Pickpocket, who
during his kissing her stole away all his Money.
Another would have
got off by a Dimple in his Chin; but it was proved upon
him, that he
had, by coming into a Room, made a Woman miscarry, and frightened two
Children into Fits. A
Third alledged, That he was taken by a Lady for
another Gentleman, who was one of the handsomest in the University;
But upon Enquiry it was found that the Lady had actually lost one Eye,
and the other was very much upon the Decline. A
Fourth produced
Letters out of the Country in his Vindication, in which a Gentleman
offered him his Daughter, who had lately fallen in Love with him, with
a good Fortune: But it was made appear that the young Lady was
amorous, and had like to have run away with her Father's Coachman, so
that it was supposed, that her Pretence of falling in Love with him
was only in order to be well married. It was pleasant to hear the
several Excuses which were made, insomuch that some made as much
Interest to be excused as they would from serving Sheriff; however at
last the Society was formed, and proper Officers were appointed; and
the Day was fix'd for the Entertainment, which was in
Venison
Season. A pleasant
Fellow of King's College (commonly called
Crab
from his sour Look, and the only Man who did not pretend to get off)
was nominated for Chaplain; and nothing was wanting but some one to
sit in the Elbow-Chair, by way of
President, at the upper end of the
Table; and there the Business stuck, for there was no Contention for
Superiority
there. This Affair made so great a Noise, that the King,
who was then at
Newmarket, heard of it, and was pleased merrily and
graciously to say,
He could not Be There himself, but he would Send
them a Brace of Bucks.
I would desire you, Sir, to set this Affair in a true Light, that
Posterity may not be misled in so important a Point: For when
the
wise Man who shall write your true History shall acquaint the World,
That you had a
Diploma sent from the
Ugly Club at Oxford, and that
by vertue of it you were admitted into it, what a learned Work will
there be among
future Criticks about the Original of that Club,
which both Universities will contend so warmly for? And perhaps some
hardy
Cantabrigian Author may then boldly affirm, that the Word
Oxford was an interpolation of some
Oxonian instead of
Cambridge. This Affair will be best adjusted in your Life-time; but
I hope your Affection to your
Mother will not make you partial to your
Aunt.
To tell you, Sir, my own Opinion: Tho' I cannot find any ancient
Records of any Acts of the
Society of the Ugly Faces, considered in a
publick Capacity; yet in a
private one they have certainly
Antiquity on their Side. I am perswaded they will hardly give Place to
the
Lowngers, and the
Lowngers are of the same Standing with the
University itself.
Tho' we well know, Sir, you want no Motives to do Justice, yet I am
commission'd to tell you, that you are invited to be admitted
ad
eundem at
Cambridge; and I believe I may venture safely to deliver
this as the Wish of our Whole University.'
To Mr.
Spectator.
The humble Petition of Who and Which.
Sheweth,
'
That your Petitioners being in a forlorn and destitute Condition,
know not to whom we should apply ourselves for Relief, because there
is hardly any Man alive who hath not injured us. Nay, we speak it with
Sorrow, even You your self, whom we should suspect of such a Practice
the last of all Mankind, can hardly acquit your self of having given
us some Cause of Complaint. We are descended of ancient Families, and
kept up our Dignity and Honour many Years, till the Jack-sprat THAT
supplanted us. How often have we found ourselves slighted by the
Clergy in their Pulpits, and the Lawyers at the Bar? Nay, how often
have we heard in one of the most polite and august Assemblies in the
Universe, to our great Mortification, these Words,
That That that
noble Lord urged; which if one of us had had Justice done, would
have sounded nobler thus,
That Which that noble Lord urged.
Senates themselves, the Guardians of
British Liberty, have
degraded us, and preferred
That to us; and yet no Decree was ever
given against us. In the very Acts of Parliament, in which the utmost
Right should be done to every
Body,
Word and
Thing, we find our selves often either not used, or used one
instead of another. In the first and best Prayer Children are taught,
they learn to misuse us:
Our Father Which art in Heaven,
should be,
Our Father Who art in Heaven; and even a
Convocation after long Debates, refused to consent to an Alteration of
it. In our
general Confession we say, —
Spare thou them, O
God, Which confess their Faults, which ought to be,
Who confess
their Faults. What Hopes then have we of having Justice done so,
when the Makers of our very Prayers and Laws, and the most learned in
all Faculties, seem to be in a Confederacy against us, and our Enemies
themselves must be our Judges.'
The
Spanish Proverb says,
Il sabio muda consejo, il necio no;
i. e.
A wise Man changes his Mind, a Fool never will.
So
that we think You, Sir, a very proper Person to address to, since we
know you to be capable of being convinced, and changing your Judgment.
You are well able to settle this Affair, and to you we submit our Cause.
We desire you to assign the Butts and Bounds of each of us; and that for
the future we may both enjoy our own. We would desire to be heard by our
Counsel, but that we fear in their very Pleadings they would betray our
Cause: Besides, we have been oppressed so many Years, that we can appear
no other way, but
in forma pauperis. All which considered, we hope you
will be pleased to do that which to Right and Justice shall appertain.
And your Petitioners, &c.
R.
This letter is probably by Laurence Eusden, and the
preceding letter by the same hand would be the account of the Loungers
in
Laurence Eusden, son of Dr. Eusden, Rector of Spalsworth, in
Yorkshire, was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, took orders, and
became Chaplain to Lord Willoughby de Broke. He obtained the patronage
of Lord Halifax by a Latin version of his Lordship's poem on the Battle
of the Boyne, in 1718. By the influence of the Duke of Newcastle, then
Lord Chamberlain, he was made Poet-laureate, upon the death of Rowe.
Eusden died, rector of Conington, Lincolnshire, in 1730, and his death
was hastened by intemperance. Of the laurel left for Cibber Pope wrote
in the Dunciad,
Know, Eusden thirsts no more for sack or praise;
He sleeps among the dull of ancient days.
Contents
|
Thursday, May 31, 1711 |
Steele |
I have received very many Letters of late from my Female Correspondents,
most of whom are very angry with me for Abridging their Pleasures, and
looking severely upon Things, in themselves, indifferent. But I think
they are extremely Unjust to me in this Imputation: All that I contend
for is, that those Excellencies, which are to be regarded but in the
second Place, should not precede more weighty Considerations. The Heart
of Man deceives him in spite of the Lectures of half a Life spent in
Discourses on the Subjection of Passion; and I do not know why one may
not think the Heart of Woman as Unfaithful to itself. If we grant an
Equality in the Faculties of both Sexes, the Minds of Women are less
cultivated with Precepts, and consequently may, without Disrespect to
them, be accounted more liable to Illusion in Cases wherein natural
Inclination is out of the Interests of Virtue. I shall take up my
present Time in commenting upon a Billet or two which came from Ladies,
and from thence leave the Reader to judge whether I am in the right or
not, in thinking it is possible Fine Women may be mistaken.
The following Address seems to have no other Design in it, but to tell
me the Writer will do what she pleases for all me.
Mr. Spectator,
'I am Young, and very much inclin'd to follow the Paths of Innocence:
but at the same time, as I have a plentiful Fortune, and of Quality, I
am unwilling to resign the Pleasures of Distinction, some little
Satisfaction in being Admired in general, and much greater in being
beloved by a Gentleman, whom I design to make my Husband. But I have a
mind to put off entering into Matrimony till another Winter is over my
Head, which, (whatever, musty Sir, you may think of the Matter) I
design to pass away in hearing Music, going to Plays, Visiting, and
all other Satisfactions which Fortune and Youth, protected by
Innocence and Virtue, can procure for, '
Sir,
Your most humble Servant,
M. T.
'My Lover does not know I like him, therefore having no Engagements
upon me, I think to stay and know whether I may not like any one else
better.'
I have heard
Will. Honeycomb
say,
A Woman seldom writes her Mind but in her Postscript.
I think this Gentlewoman has sufficiently
discovered hers in this. I'll lay what Wager she pleases against her
present Favourite, and can tell her that she will Like Ten more before
she is fixed, and then will take the worst Man she ever liked in her
Life. There is no end of Affection taken in at the Eyes only; and you
may as well satisfie those Eyes with seeing, as controul any Passion
received by them only. It is from loving by Sight that Coxcombs so
frequently succeed with Women, and very often a Young Lady is bestowed
by her Parents to a Man who weds her as Innocence itself, tho' she has,
in her own Heart, given her Approbation of a different Man in every
Assembly she was in the whole Year before. What is wanting among Women,
as well as among Men, is the Love of laudable Things, and not to rest
only in the Forbearance of such as are Reproachful.
How far removed from a Woman of this light Imagination is
Eudosia!
Eudosia
has all the Arts of Life and good Breeding with so much
Ease, that the Virtue of her Conduct looks more like an Instinct than
Choice. It is as little difficult to her to think justly of Persons and
Things, as it is to a Woman of different Accomplishments, to move ill or
look awkward. That which was, at first, the Effect of Instruction, is
grown into an Habit; and it would be as hard for
Eudosia
to
indulge a wrong Suggestion of Thought, as it would be for
Flavia
the fine Dancer to come into a Room with an unbecoming Air.
But the Misapprehensions People themselves have of their own State of
Mind, is laid down with much discerning in the following Letter, which
is but an Extract of a kind Epistle from my charming mistress
Hecatissa
, who is above the Vanity of external Beauty, and is
the best Judge of the Perfections of the Mind.
Mr.
Spectator,
"I Write this to acquaint you, that very many Ladies, as well as
myself, spend many Hours more than we used at the Glass, for want of
the Female Library of which you promised us a Catalogue. I hope, Sir,
in the Choice of Authors for us, you will have a particular Regard to
Books of Devotion. What they are, and how many, must be your chief
Care; for upon the Propriety of such Writings depends a great deal. I
have known those among us who think, if they every Morning and Evening
spend an Hour in their Closet, and read over so many Prayers in six or
seven Books of Devotion, all equally nonsensical, with a sort of
Warmth, (that might as well be raised by a Glass of Wine, or a Drachm
of Citron) they may all the rest of their time go on in whatever their
particular Passion leads them to. The beauteous
Philautia, who is
(in your Language) an
Idol, is one of these Votaries; she has a very
pretty furnished Closet, to which she retires at her appointed Hours:
This is her Dressing-room, as well as Chapel; she has constantly
before her a large Looking-glass, and upon the Table, according to a
very witty Author,
Together lye her Prayer-book and Paint,
At once t' improve the Sinner and the Saint.
It must be a good Scene, if one could be present at it, to see this
Idol by turns lift up her Eyes to Heaven, and steal Glances at her
own dear Person. It cannot but be a pleasing Conflict between Vanity
and Humiliation. When you are upon this Subject, choose Books which
elevate the Mind above the World, and give a pleasing Indifference to
little things in it. For want of such Instructions, I am apt to
believe so many People take it in their Heads to be sullen, cross and
angry, under pretence of being abstracted from the Affairs of this
Life, when at the same time they betray their Fondness for them by
doing their Duty as a Task, and pouting and reading good Books for a
Week together. Much of this I take to proceed from the Indiscretion of
the Books themselves, whose very Titles of Weekly Preparations, and
such limited Godliness, lead People of ordinary Capacities into great
Errors, and raise in them a Mechanical Religion, entirely distinct
from Morality. I know a Lady so given up to this sort of Devotion,
that tho' she employs six or eight Hours of the twenty-four at Cards,
she never misses one constant Hour of Prayer, for which time another
holds her Cards, to which she returns with no little Anxiousness till
two or three in the Morning. All these Acts are but empty Shows, and,
as it were, Compliments made to Virtue; the Mind is all the while
untouched with any true Pleasure in the Pursuit of it. From hence I
presume it arises that so many People call themselves Virtuous, from
no other Pretence to it but an Absence of Ill. There is
Dulcianara
is the most insolent of all Creatures to her Friends and Domesticks,
upon no other Pretence in Nature but that (as her silly Phrase is) no
one can say Black is her Eye. She has no Secrets, forsooth, which
should make her afraid to speak her Mind, and therefore she is
impertinently Blunt to all her Acquaintance, and unseasonably
Imperious to all her Family. Dear Sir, be pleased to put such Books in
our Hands, as may make our Virtue more inward, and convince some of us
that in a Mind truly virtuous the Scorn of Vice is always accompanied
with the Pity of it. This and other things are impatiently expected
from you by our whole Sex; among the rest by,
Sir,
Your most humble Servant,'
B.
Contents
|
Friday, June 1, 1711 |
Steele |
Cœlum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt.
Hor.
translation
In the Year 1688, and on the same Day of that Year, were born in
Cheapside, London
, two Females of exquisite Feature and Shape; the one
we shall call
Brunetta
, the other
Phillis
. A close Intimacy between
their Parents made each of them the first Acquaintance the other knew in
the World: They played, dressed Babies, acted Visitings, learned to
Dance and make Curtesies, together. They were inseparable Companions in
all the little Entertainments their tender Years were capable of: Which
innocent Happiness continued till the Beginning of their fifteenth Year,
when it happened that Mrs.
Phillis
had an Head-dress on which became
her so very well, that instead of being beheld any more with Pleasure
for their Amity to each other, the Eyes of the Neighbourhood were turned
to remark them with Comparison of their Beauty. They now no longer
enjoyed the Ease of Mind and pleasing Indolence in which they were
formerly happy, but all their Words and Actions were misinterpreted by
each other, and every Excellence in their Speech and Behaviour was
looked upon as an Act of Emulation to surpass the other. These
Beginnings of Disinclination soon improved into a Formality of
Behaviour; a general Coldness, and by natural Steps into an
irreconcilable Hatred.
These two Rivals for the Reputation of Beauty, were in their Stature,
Countenance and Mien so very much alike, that if you were speaking of
them in their Absence, the Words in which you described the one must
give you an Idea of the other. They were hardly distinguishable, you
would think, when they were apart, tho' extremely different when
together. What made their Enmity the more entertaining to all the rest
of their Sex was, that in Detraction from each other neither could fall
upon Terms which did not hit herself as much as her Adversary. Their
Nights grew restless with Meditation of new Dresses to outvie each
other, and inventing new Devices to recal Admirers, who observed the
Charms of the one rather than those of the other on the last Meeting.
Their Colours failed at each other's Appearance, flushed with Pleasure
at the Report of a Disadvantage, and their Countenances withered upon
Instances of Applause. The Decencies to which Women are obliged, made
these Virgins stifle their Resentment so far as not to break into open
Violences, while they equally suffered the Torments of a regulated
Anger. Their Mothers, as it is usual, engaged in the Quarrel, and
supported the several Pretensions of the Daughters with all that
ill-chosen Sort of Expence which is common with People of plentiful
Fortunes and mean Taste. The Girls preceded their Parents like Queens of
May
, in all the gaudy Colours imaginable, on every
Sunday
to Church,
and were exposed to the Examination of the Audience for Superiority of
Beauty.
During this constant Straggle it happened, that
Phillis
one Day at
publick Prayers smote the Heart of a gay
West-Indian
, who appear'd in
all the Colours which can affect an Eye that could not distinguish
between being fine and tawdry. This
American
in a Summer-Island Suit
was too shining and too gay to be resisted by
Phillis
, and too intent
upon her Charms to be diverted by any of the laboured Attractions of
Brunetta
. Soon after,
Brunetta
had the Mortification to see her
Rival disposed of in a wealthy Marriage, while she was only addressed to
in a Manner that shewed she was the Admiration of all Men, but the
Choice of none.
Phillis
was carried to the Habitation of her Spouse in
Barbadoes
:
Brunetta
had the Ill-nature to inquire for her by every
Opportunity, and had the Misfortune to hear of her being attended by
numerous Slaves, fanned into Slumbers by successive Hands of them, and
carried from Place to Place in all the Pomp of barbarous Magnificence.
Brunetta
could not endure these repeated Advices, but employed all her
Arts and Charms in laying Baits for any of Condition of the same Island,
out of a mere Ambition to confront her once more before she died. She at
last succeeded in her Design, and was taken to Wife by a Gentleman whose
Estate was contiguous to that of her Enemy's Husband. It would be
endless to enumerate the many Occasions on which these irreconcileable
Beauties laboured to excel each other; but in process of Time it
happened that a Ship put into the Island consigned to a Friend of
Phillis
, who had Directions to give her the Refusal of all Goods
for Apparel, before
Brunetta
could be alarmed of their Arrival.
He did so, and
Phillis
was dressed in a few Days in a Brocade
more gorgeous and costly than had ever before appeared in that Latitude.
Brunetta
languished at the Sight, and could by no means come up
to the Bravery of her Antagonist. She communicated her Anguish of Mind
to a faithful Friend, who by an Interest in the Wife of
Phillis's
Merchant, procured a Remnant of the same Silk for
Brunetta
.
Phillis
took pains to appear in all public Places where she was
sure to meet
Brunetta
;
Brunetta
was now prepared for the
Insult, and came to a public Ball in a plain black Silk Mantua, attended
by a beautiful Negro Girl in a Petticoat of the same Brocade with which
Phillis
was attired. This drew the Attention of the whole
Company, upon which the unhappy
Phillis
swooned away, and was
immediately convey'd to her House. As soon as she came to herself she
fled from her Husband's House, went on board a Ship in the Road, and is
now landed in inconsolable Despair at
Plymouth
.
Postscript
.