Englishman
, as I should be to see the
Indian
Pine growing on one of our quick-set Hedges. Where these Creatures get
Sun enough, to make them such lively Animals and dull Men, is above my
Philosophy.
There are another Kind of Impertinents which a Man is perplexed with in
mixed Company, and those are your loud Speakers: These treat Mankind as
if we were all deaf; they do not express but declare themselves. Many of
these are guilty of this Outrage out of Vanity, because they think all
they say is well; or that they have their own Persons in such
Veneration, that they believe nothing which concerns them can be
insignificant to any Body else. For these Peoples sake, I have often
lamented that we cannot close our Ears with as much ease as we can our
Eyes: It is very uneasy that we must necessarily be under Persecution.
Next to these Bawlers, is a troublesome Creature who comes with the Air
of your Friend and your Intimate, and that is your Whisperer. There is
one of them at a Coffee-house which I my self frequent, who observing me
to be a Man pretty well made for Secrets, gets by me, and with a Whisper
tells me things which all the Town knows. It is no very hard matter to
guess at the Source of this Impertinence, which is nothing else but a
Method or Mechanick Art of being wise. You never see any frequent in it,
whom you can suppose to have anything in the World to do. These Persons
are worse than Bawlers, as much as a secret Enemy is more dangerous than
a declared one. I wish this my Coffee-house Friend would take this for
an Intimation, that I have not heard one Word he has told me for these
several Years; whereas he now thinks me the most trusty Repository of
his Secrets. The Whisperers have a pleasant way of ending the close
Conversation, with saying aloud,
Do not you think so?
Then whisper
again, and then aloud,
but you know that Person;
then whisper again.
The thing would be well enough, if they whisper'd to keep the Folly of
what they say among Friends; but alas, they do it to preserve the
Importance of their Thoughts. I am sure I could name you more than one
Person whom no Man living ever heard talk upon any Subject in Nature, or
ever saw in his whole Life with a Book in his Hand, that I know not how
can whisper something like Knowledge of what has and does pass in the
World; which you would think he learned from some familiar Spirit that
did not think him worthy to receive the whole Story. But in truth
Whisperers deal only in half Accounts of what they entertain you with. A
great Help to their Discourse is, 'That the Town says, and People begin
to talk very freely, and they had it from Persons too considerable to be
named, what they will tell you when things are riper.' My Friend has
winked upon me any Day since I came to Town last, and has communicated
to me as a Secret, that he designed in a very short Time to tell me a
Secret; but I shall know what he means, he now assures me, in less than
a Fortnight's Time.
But I must not omit the dearer Part of Mankind, I mean the Ladies, to
take up a whole Paper upon Grievances which concern the Men only; but
shall humbly propose, that we change Fools for an Experiment only. A
certain Set of Ladies complain they are frequently perplexed with a
Visitant who affects to be wiser than they are; which Character he hopes
to preserve by an obstinate Gravity, and great Guard against discovering
his Opinion upon any Occasion whatsoever. A painful Silence has hitherto
gained him no further Advantage, than that as he might, if he had
behaved himself with Freedom, been excepted against but as to this and
that Particular, he now offends in the whole. To relieve these Ladies,
my good Friends and Correspondents, I shall exchange my dancing Outlaw
for their dumb Visitant, and assign the silent Gentleman all the Haunts
of the Dancer; in order to which, I have sent them by the Penny-post the
following Letters for their Conduct in their new Conversations.
Sir,
I have, you may be sure, heard of your Irregularities without regard
to my Observations upon you; but shall not treat you with so much
Rigour as you deserve. If you will give yourself the Trouble to repair
to the Place mentioned in the Postscript to this Letter at Seven this
Evening, you will be conducted into a spacious Room well-lighted,
where there are Ladies and Musick. You will see a young Lady laughing
next the Window to the Street; you may take her out, for she loves you
as well as she does any Man, tho' she never saw you before. She never
thought in her Life, any more than your self. She will not be
surprised when you accost her, nor concerned when you leave her.
Hasten from a Place where you are laughed at, to one where you will be
admired. You are of no Consequence, therefore go where you will be
welcome for being so.
Your most Humble Servant.'
Sir,
'The Ladies whom you visit, think a wise Man the most impertinent
Creature living, therefore you cannot be offended that they are
displeased with you. Why will you take pains to appear wise, where you
would not be the more esteemed for being really so? Come to us; forget
the Gigglers; and let your Inclination go along with you whether you
speak or are silent; and let all such Women as are in a Clan or
Sisterhood, go their own way; there is no Room for you in that Company
who are of the common Taste of the Sex.'
For Women born to be controll'd
Stoop to the forward and the bold;
Affect the haughty, and the proud,
The gay, the frolick, and the loud.1
T.
Waller
Of Love.
Contents
|
Tuesday, August 21, 1711 |
Steele |
Cui in manu sit quem esse dementem velit,
Quem sapere, quem sanari, quem in morbum injici,
Quem contra amari, quem accersiri, quem expeti.
Cæcil. apud Tull.
translation
The following Letter and my Answer shall take up the present Speculation.
Mr.
Spectator,
'I am the young Widow of a Country Gentleman who has left me Entire
Mistress of a large Fortune, which he agreed to as an Equivalent for
the Difference in our Years. In these Circumstances it is not
extraordinary to have a Crowd of Admirers; which I have abridged in my
own Thoughts, and reduced to a couple of Candidates only, both young,
and neither of them disagreeable in their Persons; according to the
common way of computing, in one the Estate more than deserves my
Fortune, and in the other my Fortune more than deserves the Estate.
When I consider the first, I own I am so far a Woman I cannot avoid
being delighted with the Thoughts of living great; but then he seems
to receive such a Degree of Courage from the Knowledge of what he has,
he looks as if he was going to confer an Obligation on me; and the
Readiness he accosts me with, makes me jealous I am only hearing a
Repetition of the same things he has said to a hundred Women before.
When I consider the other, I see myself approached with so much
Modesty and Respect, and such a Doubt of himself, as betrays methinks
an Affection within, and a Belief at the same time that he himself
would be the only Gainer by my Consent. What an unexceptionable
Husband could I make out of both! but since that's impossible, I beg
to be concluded by your Opinion; it is absolutely in your Power to
dispose of
Your most Obedient Servant,
Sylvia.
Madam,
You do me great Honour in your Application to me on this important
Occasion; I shall therefore talk to you with the Tenderness of a
Father, in Gratitude for your giving me the Authority of one. You do
not seem to make any great Distinction between these Gentlemen as to
their Persons; the whole Question lies upon their Circumstances and
Behaviour; If the one is less respectful because he is rich, and the
other more obsequious because he is not so, they are in that Point
moved by the same Principle, the Consideration of Fortune, and you
must place them in each others Circumstances before you can judge of
their Inclination. To avoid Confusion in discussing this Point, I will
call the richer Man
Strephon, and the other
Florio. If
you believe
Florio with
Strephon's Estate would behave
himself as he does now,
Florio is certainly your Man; but if
you think
Strephon, were he in
Florio's Condition, would
be as obsequious as
Florio is now, you ought for your own sake
to choose
Strephon; for where the Men are equal, there is no
doubt Riches ought to be a Reason for Preference. After this manner,
my dear Child, I would have you abstract them from their
Circumstances; for you are to take it for granted, that he who is very
humble only because he is poor, is the very same Man in Nature with
him who is haughty because he is rich.
When you have gone thus far, as to consider the Figure they make
towards you; you will please, my Dear, next to consider the Appearance
you make towards them. If they are Men of Discerning, they can observe
the Motives of your Heart; and
Florio can see when he is
disregarded only upon your Account of Fortune, which makes you to him
a mercenary Creature: and you are still the same thing to
Strephon, in taking him for his Wealth only: You are therefore
to consider whether you had rather oblige, than receive an Obligation.
The Marriage-Life is always an insipid, a vexatious, or an happy
Condition. The first is, when two People of no Genius or Taste for
themselves meet together, upon such a Settlement as has been thought
reasonable by Parents and Conveyancers from an exact Valuation of the
Land and Cash of both Parties: In this Case the young Lady's Person is
no more regarded, than the House and Improvements in Purchase of an
Estate: but she goes with her Fortune, rather than her Fortune with
her. These make up the Crowd or Vulgar of the Rich, and fill up the
Lumber of human Race, without Beneficence towards those below them, or
Respect towards those above them; and lead a despicable, independent
and useless Life, without Sense of the Laws of Kindness, Good-nature,
mutual Offices, and the elegant Satisfactions which flow from Reason
and Virtue.
The vexatious Life arises from a Conjunction of two People of quick
Taste and Resentment, put together for Reasons well known to their
Friends, in which especial Care is taken to avoid (what they think the
chief of Evils) Poverty, and insure to them Riches, with every Evil
besides. These good People live in a constant Constraint before
Company, and too great Familiarity alone; when they are within
Observation they fret at each other's Carriage and Behaviour; when
alone they revile each other's Person and Conduct: In Company they are
in a Purgatory, when only together in an Hell.
The happy Marriage is, where two Persons meet and voluntarily make
Choice of each other, without principally regarding or neglecting the
Circumstances of Fortune or Beauty. These may still love in spite of
Adversity or Sickness: The former we may in some measure defend our
selves from, the other is the Portion of our very Make. When you have
a true Notion of this sort of Passion, your Humour of living great
will vanish out of your Imagination, and you will find Love has
nothing to do with State. Solitude, with the Person beloved, has a
Pleasure, even in a Woman's Mind, beyond Show or Pomp. You are
therefore to consider which of your Lovers will like you best
undressed, which will bear with you most when out of Humour? and your
way to this is to ask your self, which of them you value most for his
own sake? and by that judge which gives the greater Instances of his
valuing you for your self only.
After you have expressed some Sense of the humble Approach of
Florio, and a little Disdain at
Strephon's Assurance in
his Address, you cry out,
What an unexceptionable Husband could I
make out of both? It would therefore methinks be a good way to
determine your self:
Take him in whom what you like is not
transferable to another; for if you choose otherwise, there is no
Hopes your Husband will ever have what you liked in his Rival; but
intrinsick Qualities in one Man may very probably purchase every thing
that is adventitious in
another1. In plainer Terms: he whom you
take for his personal Perfections will sooner arrive at the Gifts of
Fortune, than he whom you take for the sake of his Fortune attain to
Personal Perfections. If
Strephon is not as accomplished and
agreeable as
Florio, Marriage to you will never make him so;
but Marriage to you may make
Florio as rich as
Strephon?
Therefore to make a sure Purchase, employ Fortune upon Certainties,
but do not sacrifice Certainties to Fortune.
I am, Your most Obedient, Humble Servant.
any other.
Contents
|
Wednesday, August 22, 1711 |
Budgell |
Nil habet infelix paupertas durius in se,
Quàm quod ridiculos homines facit ...
Juv.
translation
As I was walking in my Chamber the Morning before I went last into the
Country, I heard the Hawkers with great Vehemence crying about a Paper,
entitled,
The ninety nine Plagues of an empty Purse
. I had indeed some
Time before observed, that the Orators of
Grub-street
had dealt very
much in
Plagues
. They have already published in the same Month,
The
Plagues of Matrimony, The Plagues of a single Life, The nineteen Plagues
of a Chambermaid, The Plagues of a Coachman, The Plagues of a Footman
,
and
The Plague of Plagues
. The success these several
Plagues
met
with, probably gave Occasion to the above-mentioned Poem on an
empty
Purse
. However that be, the same Noise so frequently repeated under my
Window, drew me insensibly to think on some of those Inconveniences and
Mortifications which usually attend on Poverty, and in short, gave Birth
to the present Speculation: For after my Fancy had run over the most
obvious and common Calamities which Men of mean Fortunes are liable to,
it descended to those little Insults and Contempts, which though they
may seem to dwindle into nothing when a Man offers to describe them, are
perhaps in themselves more cutting and insupportable than the former.
Juvenal
with a great deal of Humour and Reason tells us, that nothing
bore harder upon a poor Man in his Time, than the continual Ridicule
which his Habit and Dress afforded to the Beaus of
Rome
.
Quid, quod materiam præbet causasque jocorum
Omnibus hic idem? si fœda et scissa lacerna,
Si toga sordidula est, et rupta calceus alter
Pelle patet, vel si consuto vulnere crassum
Atque recens linam ostendit non una Cicatrix.
(Juv. Sat. 3.)
Add, that the Rich have still a Gibe in Store,
And will be monstrous witty on the Poor;
For the torn Surtout and the tatter'd Vest,
The Wretch and all his Wardrobe are a Jest:
The greasie Gown sully'd with often turning,
Gives a good Hint to say the Man's in Mourning;
Or if the Shoe be ript, or Patch is put,
He's wounded I see the Plaister on his Foot.
(Dryd.)
'Tis on this Occasion that he afterwards adds the Reflection which I
have chosen for my Motto.
Want is the Scorn of every wealthy Fool,
And Wit in Rags is turn'd to Ridicule.
(Dryd.)
It must be confess'd that few things make a Man appear more despicable
or more prejudice his Hearers against what he is going to offer, than an
awkward or pitiful Dress; insomuch that I fancy, had
Tully
himself
pronounced one of his Orations with a Blanket about his Shoulders, more
People would have laughed at his Dress than have admired his Eloquence.
This last Reflection made me wonder at a Set of Men, who, without being
subjected to it by the Unkindness of their Fortunes, are contented to
draw upon themselves the Ridicule of the World in this Particular; I
mean such as take it into their Heads, that the first regular Step to be
a Wit is to commence a Sloven. It is certain nothing has so much debased
that, which must have been otherwise so great a Character; and I know
not how to account for it, unless it may possibly be in Complaisance to
those narrow Minds who can have no Notion of the same Person's
possessing different Accomplishments; or that it is a sort of Sacrifice
which some Men are contented to make to Calumny, by allowing it to
fasten on one Part of their Character, while they are endeavouring to
establish another. Yet however unaccountable this foolish Custom is, I
am afraid it could plead a long Prescription; and probably gave too much
Occasion for the Vulgar Definition still remaining among us of an
Heathen Philosopher
.
I have seen the Speech of a
Terræ-filius
, spoken in King Charles II's
Reign; in which he describes two very eminent Men, who were perhaps the
greatest Scholars of their Age; and after having mentioned the entire
Friendship between them, concludes, That
they had but one Mind, one
Purse, one Chamber, and one Hat
. The Men of Business were also infected
with a Sort of Singularity little better than this. I have heard my
Father say, that a broad-brimm'd Hat, short Hair, and unfolded
Hankerchief, were in his time absolutely necessary to denote a
notable
Man;
and that he had known two or three, who aspired to the Character
of
very notable
, wear Shoestrings with great Success.
To the Honour of our present Age it must be allowed, that some of our
greatest Genius's for Wit and Business have almost entirely broke the
Neck of these Absurdities.
Victor
, after having dispatched the most important Affairs of the
Commonwealth, has appeared at an Assembly, where all the Ladies have
declared him the genteelest Man in the Company; and in
Atticus
, though
every way one of the greatest Genius's the Age has produced, one sees
nothing particular in his Dress or Carriage to denote his Pretensions to
Wit and Learning: so that at present a Man may venture to cock up his
Hat, and wear a fashionable Wig, without being taken for a Rake or a
Fool.
Medium between a Fop and a Sloven is what a Man of Sense would
endeavour to keep; yet I remember Mr.
Osbourn
advises his Son
to
appear in his Habit rather above than below his Fortune; and tells him,
that he will find an handsom Suit of Cloathes always procures some
additional Respect. I have indeed myself observed that my Banker bows
lowest to me when I wear my full-bottom'd Wig; and writes me
Mr.
or
Esq.
, accordingly as he sees me dressed.
I shall conclude this Paper with an Adventure which I was myself an
Eye-witness of very lately.
I happened the other Day to call in at a celebrated Coffee-house near
the
Temple
. I had not been there long when there came in an elderly
Man very meanly dressed, and sat down by me; he had a thread-bare loose
Coat on, which it was plain he wore to keep himself warm, and not to
favour his under Suit, which seemed to have been at least its
Contemporary: His short Wig and Hat were both answerable to the rest of
his Apparel. He was no sooner seated than he called for a Dish of Tea;
but as several Gentlemen in the Room wanted other things, the Boys of
the House did not think themselves at leisure to mind him.
could
observe the old Fellow was very uneasy at the Affront, and at his being
obliged to repeat his Commands several times to no purpose; 'till at
last one of the
lads
presented him with some stale Tea in a broken
Dish, accompanied with a Plate of brown Sugar; which so raised his
Indignation, that after several obliging Appellations of Dog and Rascal,
he asked him aloud before the whole Company,
Why he must be used with
less Respect than that Fop there?
pointing to a well-dressed young
Gentleman who was drinking Tea at the opposite Table.
Boy of the
House replied with a
great
deal of Pertness, That his Master had
two sorts of Customers, and that the Gentleman at the other Table had
given him many a Sixpence for wiping his Shoes. By this time the young
Templar
, who found his Honour concerned in the Dispute, and that the
Eyes of the whole Coffee-house were upon him, had thrown aside a Paper
he had in his Hand, and was coming towards us, while we at the Table
made what haste we could to get away from the impending Quarrel, but
were all of us surprised to see him as he approached nearer put on an
Air of Deference and Respect. To whom the old Man said,
Hark you,
Sirrah, I'll pay off your extravagant Bills once more; but will take
effectual Care for the future, that your Prodigality shall not spirit up
a Parcel of Rascals to insult your Father
.
Tho' I by no means approve either the Impudence of the Servants or the
Extravagance of the Son, I cannot but think the old Gentleman was in
some measure justly served for walking in Masquerade, I mean appearing
in a Dress so much beneath his Quality and Estate.
X.
Advice to a Son
, by Francis Osborn, Esq., Part I. sect. 23.
Rascals
good
Contents
|
Thursday, August 23, 1711 |
Steele |
Maximas Virtutes jacere omnes necesse est Voluptate dominante.
Tull.
de Fin.translation
I know no one Character that gives Reason a greater Shock, at the same
Time that it presents a good ridiculous Image to the Imagination, than
that of a Man of Wit and Pleasure about the Town. This Description of a
Man of Fashion, spoken by some with a Mixture of Scorn and Ridicule, by
others with great Gravity as a laudable Distinction, is in every Body's
Mouth that spends any Time in Conversation. My Friend
Will. Honeycomb
has this Expression very frequently; and I never could understand by the
Story which follows, upon his Mention of such a one, but that his Man of
Wit and Pleasure was either a Drunkard too old for Wenching, or a young
lewd Fellow with some Liveliness, who would converse with you, receive
kind Offices of you, and at the same time debauch your Sister, or lie
with your Wife. According to his Description, a Man of Wit, when he
could have Wenches for Crowns apiece which he liked quite as well, would
be so extravagant as to bribe Servants, make false Friendships, fight
Relations: I say, according to him, plain and simple Vice was too little
for a Man of Wit and Pleasure; but he would leave an easy and accessible
Wickedness, to come at the same thing with only the Addition of certain
Falshood and possible Murder.
Will
, thinks the Town grown very dull, in
that we do not hear so much as we used to do of these Coxcombs, whom
(without observing it) he describes as the most infamous Rogues in
Nature, with relation to Friendship, Love, or Conversation.
When Pleasure is made the chief Pursuit of Life, it will necessarily
follow that such Monsters as these will arise from a constant
Application to such Blandishments as naturally root out the Force of
Reason and Reflection, and substitute in their Place a general
Impatience of Thought, and a constant Pruiriency of inordinate Desire.
Pleasure, when it is a Man's chief Purpose, disappoints it self; and the
constant Application to it palls the Faculty of enjoying it, tho' it
leaves the Sense of our Inability for that we wish, with a Disrelish of
every thing else. Thus the intermediate Seasons of the Man of Pleasure
are more heavy than one would impose upon the vilest Criminal. Take him
when he is awaked too soon after a Debauch, or disappointed in following
a worthless Woman without Truth, and there is no Man living whose Being
is such a Weight or Vexation as his is. He is an utter Stranger to the
pleasing Reflections in the Evening of a well-spent Day, or the Gladness
of Heart or Quickness of Spirit in the Morning after profound Sleep or
indolent Slumbers. He is not to be at Ease any longer than he can keep
Reason and good Sense without his Curtains; otherwise he will be haunted
with the Reflection, that he could not believe such a one the Woman that
upon Trial he found her. What has he got by his Conquest, but to think
meanly of her for whom a Day or two before he had the highest Honour?
and of himself for, perhaps, wronging the Man whom of all Men living he
himself would least willingly have injured?
Pleasure seizes the whole Man who addicts himself to it, and will not
give him Leisure for any good Office in Life which contradicts the
Gaiety of the present Hour. You may indeed observe in People of Pleasure
a certain Complacency and Absence of all Severity, which the Habit of a
loose unconcerned Life gives them; but tell the Man of Pleasure your
secret Wants, Cares, or Sorrows, and you will find he has given up the
Delicacy of his Passions to the Cravings of his Appetites. He little
knows the perfect Joy he loses, for the disappointing Gratifications
which he pursues. He looks at Pleasure as she approaches, and comes to
him with the Recommendation of warm Wishes, gay Looks, and graceful
Motion; but he does not observe how she leaves his Presence with
Disorder, Impotence, down-cast Shame, and conscious Imperfection. She
makes our Youth inglorious, our Age shameful.
Will. Honeycomb
gives us twenty Intimations in an Evening of several
Hags whose Bloom was given up to his Arms; and would raise a Value to
himself for having had, as the Phrase is, very good Women.
Will.'s
good
Women are the Comfort of his Heart, and support him, I warrant, by the
Memory of past Interviews with Persons of their Condition. No, there is
not in the World an Occasion wherein Vice makes so phantastical a
Figure, as at the Meeting of two old People who have been Partners in
unwarrantable Pleasure. To tell a toothless old Lady that she once had a
good Set, or a defunct Wencher that he once was the admired Thing of the
Town, are Satires instead of Applauses; but on the other Side, consider
the old Age of those who have passed their Days in Labour, Industry, and
Virtue, their Decays make them but appear the more venerable, and the
Imperfections of their Bodies are beheld as a Misfortune to humane
Society that their Make is so little durable.
But to return more directly to my Man of Wit and Pleasure. In all Orders
of Men, wherever this is the chief Character, the Person who wears it is
a negligent Friend, Father, and Husband, and entails Poverty on his
unhappy Descendants. Mortgages Diseases, and Settlements are the
Legacies a Man of Wit and Pleasure leaves to his Family. All the poor
Rogues that make such lamentable Speeches after every Sessions at
Tyburn
, were, in their Way, Men of Wit and Pleasure, before they fell
into the Adventures which brought them thither.
Irresolution and Procrastination in all a Man's Affairs, are the natural
Effects of being addicted to Pleasure: Dishonour to the Gentleman and
Bankruptcy to the Trader, are the Portion of either whose chief Purpose
of Life is Delight. The chief Cause that this Pursuit has been in all
Ages received with so much Quarter from the soberer Part of Mankind, has
been that some Men of great Talents have sacrificed themselves to it:
The shining Qualities of such People have given a Beauty to whatever
they were engaged in, and a Mixture of Wit has recommended Madness. For
let any Man who knows what it is to have passed much Time in a Series of
Jollity, Mirth, Wit, or humourous Entertainments, look back at what he
was all that while a doing, and he will find that he has been at one
Instant sharp to some Man he is sorry to have offended, impertinent to
some one it was Cruelty to treat with such Freedom, ungracefully noisy
at such a Time, unskilfully open at such a Time, unmercifully calumnious
at such a Time; and from the whole Course of his applauded
Satisfactions, unable in the end to recollect any Circumstance which can
add to the Enjoyment of his own Mind alone, or which he would put his
Character upon with other Men. Thus it is with those who are best made
for becoming Pleasures; but how monstrous is it in the generality of
Mankind who pretend this Way, without Genius or Inclination towards it?
The Scene then is wild to an Extravagance: this is as if Fools should
mimick Madmen. Pleasure of this Kind is the intemperate Meals and loud
Jollities of the common Rate of Country Gentlemen, whose Practice and
Way of Enjoyment is to put an End as fast as they can to that little
Particle of Reason they have when they are sober: These Men of Wit and
Pleasure dispatch their Senses as fast as possible by drinking till they
cannot taste, smoaking till they cannot see, and roaring till they
cannot hear.
T
Contents
|
Friday, August 24, 1711 |
Steele |
[Greek (transliterated): Ohiae per phyll_on geneàe toiáede kaì andr_on]. Hom. 'Il.' 6, v. 146.translation
There is no sort of People whose Conversation is so pleasant as that of
military Men, who derive their Courage and Magnanimity from Thought and
Reflection. The many Adventures which attend their Way of Life makes
their Conversation so full of Incidents, and gives them so frank an Air
in speaking of what they have been Witnesses of, that no Company can be
more amiable than that of Men of Sense who are Soldiers. There is a
certain irregular Way in their Narrations or Discourse, which has
something more warm and pleasing than we meet with among Men who are
used to adjust and methodize their Thoughts.