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I will fwim over the river: I can fwim like a duck.

Mercury. Swim over the Styx! it muft not be done; it is against the laws of Pluto's empire. You must go in the boat, and be quiet.

Savage. Do not tell me of laws: I am a Savage: I value no laws. Talk of laws to the Englishman: there are laws in his country, aud yet you fee he did not regard them. For they could never allow him to kill his fellow-fubject in time of peace, becaufe he afked him to pay a debt. I know that the English are a barbarous nation; but they cannot be fo brutal as to make fuch things lawful.

Mercury. You reafon well against him. But how comes it that you are to offended with murder: you who have maffacred women in their fleep, and children in their cradles ?

Savage. I killed none but my enemies; I never killed my own countrymen: I never killed my friend. Here, take my blanket, and let it come over in the boat; but fee that the murderer does not fit upon it, or touch it; if he does I will burn it in the fire I fee yonder. Farewell.-I am refolved to swim over the water.

Mercury. By this touch of my wand I take all thy ftrength from thee.-Swim now if thou canst.

Savage. This is a very potent enchanter.- -Reftore me my ftrength, and I will obey thee.

Mercury. I reftore it; but be orderly, and do as I bid you, otherwife worfe will befal you.

Duellift. Mercury, leave him to me. I will tutor him for you. Sirrah, Savage, doft thou pretend to be ashamed of my company? Doft thou know that I have kept the best company in England?

Savage. I know thou art a fcoundrel. -Not pay thy debts! kill thy friend, who lent thee money, for afking thee for it! Get out of my fight. I will drive thee into Styx.

Mercury. Stop-I command thee. No violence. Talk to him calmly.

Savage. I must obey thee.-Well, Sir, let me know what merit you had to introduce you into good company? What could you do?

Duellift. Sir, I gamed, as I told you.Befides, I kept a good table.-I eat as well as any man in England or France.

Savage. Eat! Did you ever eat the

chine of a Frenchman, or his leg, or his fhoulder? there is fine eating! I have eat twenty.-My table was always well served. My wife was the best cook for dreffing of man's flesh in all North America. You will not pretend to compare your eating with mine.

Duellift. I danced very finely.

Savage. I will dance with thee for thy ears.-I can dance all day long. I can dance the war-dance with more fpirit and vigour than any man of my nation: let us fee thee begin it. How thou ftandeft like a poft! Has Mercury ftruck thee with his enfeebling rod? or art thou afhamed to let us fee how awkward thou art? If he would permit me, I would teach thee to dance in a way that thou haft not yet learnt. I would make thee caper and leap like a buck. But what elfe canft thou do, thou bragging rafcal?

Duellift. Oh, heavens! muft I bear this? what can I do with this fellow? I have neither fword nor pistol; and his shade feems to be twice as ftrong as mine.

Mercury. You muft anfwer his queftions. It was your own defire to have a converfation with him. He is not wellbred; but he will tell you fome truths which you must hear in this place. It would have been well for you if you had heard them above. He asked you what you could do befides eating and dancing.

Duellit. I fung very agreeably.

Savage. Let me hear you fing your death-fong, or the war-whoop. I challenge you to fing, the fellow is mute.- Mercury, this is a liar.-He tells us nothing but lies. Let me pull out his tongue.

Duellift. The lie given me!-and, alas! I dare not refent it. Oh, what a difgrace to the family of the Pufhwell's! this indeed is damnation.

Mercury. Here Charon, take these two favages to your care. How far the barbarifm of the Mohawk will excufe his horrid acts, I leave Minos to judge; but the Englifhman, what excufe can he plead? The cuftom of duelling? A bad excufe at the best! but in his case cannot avail. The fpirit that made him draw his fword in this combat against his friend is not that of honour; it is the fpirit of the furies, of Alecto herfelf. To her he must go, for she hath long dwelt in his merciless bofom.

Savage. If he is to be punished, turn him over to me. I understand the art of tormenting. Sirrah, I begin with this kick

on your breech.. Get you into the boat, or I'll give you another. I am impatient to have you condemned.

Duellift. Oh, my honour, my honour, to what infamy art thou fallen! Dialogues of the Dead.

$ 19. BAYES's Rules for Compofition. Smith. How, Sir, helps for wit! Bayes. Ay, Sir, that's my pofition: and I do here aver, that no man the fun e'er fhone upon, has parts fufficient to furnish out a ftage, except it were by the help of these my rules.

Smith. What are thofe rules, I pray? Bayes. Why, Sir, my first rule is the rule of tranfverfion, or regula duplex, changing verfe into profe, and profe into verfe, alternately, as you please.

Smith. Well, but how is this done by rule, Sir?

Bayes. Why thus, Sir; nothing fo eafy, when understood. I take a book in my hand, either at home or elsewhere (for that's all one); if there be any wit in't (as there is no book but has fome) I tranfverse it; that is, if it be profe, put it into verfe (but that takes up fome time); and if it be verfe put it into profe.

Smith. Methinks, Mr. Bayes, that putting verfe into profe, fhould be called tranfpofing.

Bayes. By my troth, Sir, it is a very good notion, and hereafter it shall be fo. Smith. Well, Sir, and what d'ye do with it then?

Bayes. Make it my own: 'tis fo changed, that no man can know it-My next rule is the rule of concord, by way of table-book. Pray obferve.

Smith. I hear you, Sir: go on.

Bayes. As thus: I come into a coffeehoufe, or fome other place where witty men resort; I make as if I minded nothing (do ye mark?) but as foon as any one fpeaks-pop, I flap it down, and make that too my own.

Smith. But, Mr. Bayes, are you not fometimes in danger of their making you reftore by force, what you have gotten thus by art?

Bayes. No, Sir, the world's unmindful; they never take notice of these things. Smith. But pray, Mr. Bayes, among all your other rules, have you no one rule for invention ?

Bayes. Yes, Sir, that's my third rule: that I have here in my pocket.

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Smith. What rule can that be, I won

der?

Bayes. Why, Sir, when I have any thing to invent, I never trouble my head about it, as other men do, but prefently turn over my book of Drama commonplaces, and there I have, at one view, all that Perfius, Montaigne, Seneca's tragedies, Horace, Juvenal, Claudian, Pliny, Plutarch's Lives, and the rest, have ever thought upon this fubject; and fo, in a trice, by leaving out a few words, or putting in others of my own-the business is done.

Smith. Indeed, Mr. Bayes, this is as fure and compendious a way of wit as ever I heard of.

Bayes. Sir, if you make the leaft fcruple of the efficacy of thefe my rules, do but come to the play-houfe, and you fhall judge of them by the effects.-But now, pray, Sir, may I ask you how you do when you write?

Smith. Faith, Sir, for the moft part, I am in pretty good health.

Bayes. Ay, but I mean, what do you do when you write?

Smith. I take pen, ink, and paper, and fit down.

Bayes. Now I write ftanding; that's one thing and then another thing iswith what do you prepare yourself?

Smith. Prepare myfelf! What the devil does the fool mean?

Bayes. Why I'll tell you now what I do:-If I am to write familiar things, as fonnets to Armida, and the like, I make use of stew'd prunes only; but when I have a grand design in hand, I ever take phyfic and let blood: for when you would have pure fwiftnefs of thought, and fiery flights of fancy, you must have a care of the penfive part. In fine, you must purge the belly.

Smith. By my troth, Sir, this is a moft admirable receipt for writing.

Bayes. Ay, 'tis my fecret; and, in good earnest, I think one of the best I have.

Smith. In good faith, Sir, and that may very well be,

Bayes. May be, Sir! I'm fure on't. Experto crede Roberto. But I must give you this caution by the way-be fure you never take fnuff when you write.

Smith. Why fo, Sir?

Bayes. Why, it fpoiled me once one of the fparkitheft plays in all England. But a friend of mine, at Grefham-college, 3 G

has

has promifed to help me to fome fpirit of adorned, neceffarily bring in! A prudent brains-and that shall do my bufinefs.

§ 20. The Art of Pleafing. The defire of being pleafed is univerfal: the defire of pleafing fhould be fo too. It is included in that great and fundamental principle of morality, of doing to others what one wishes they fhould do to us. There are indeed fome moral duties of a much higher nature, but none of a more amiable; and I do not hesitate to place it at the head of the minor virtues.

The manner of conferring favours or benefits is, as to pleafing, almost as important as the matter itself. Take care, then, never to throw away the obligations, which perhaps you may have it in your power to confer upon others, by an air of infolent protection, or by a cold and comfortless manner, which fifles them in their birth. Humanity inclines, religion requ'res, and our moral duties oblige us, as far as we are able, to relieve the diftreffes and miferies of our fellow-creatures: but this is not all; for a true heart-felt benevolence and tenderness will prompt us to contribute what we can to their eafe, their amufement, and their pleasure, as far as innocently we may. Let us then not only scatter benefits, but even frew flowers for our fellow travellers, in the rugged ways of this wretched world.

There are fome, and but too many in this country particularly, who, without the leaft vifible taint of ill-nature or malevolence, feem to be totally indifferent, and do not fhew the leaft defire to pleafe; as, on the other hand, they never defignedly offend. Whether this proceeds from a lazy, negligent, and littlefs difpofition, from a gloomy and melancholic nature, from ill health, low fpirits, or from a fecret and fullen pride, arifing from the confciousness of their boafted liberty and independency, is hard to determine, confidering the various movements of the human heart, and the wonderful errors of the human head. But, be the caufe what it will, that neutrality, which is the effect of it, makes thefe people, as neutralities do, defpicable, and mere blanks in fociety, They would furely be roufed from their indifference, if they would feriously confider the infinite utility of pleafing.

The perfon who manifefts a conftant de fire to pleafe, places his, perhaps, fmall flock of merit at great intereft. What vaft returns, then, must real merit, when thus

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ufurer would with tranfport place his laft fhilling at fuch intereft, and upon fo folid a fecurity.

The man who is amiable, will make almoft as many friends as he does acquaintances. I mean in the current acceptation of the word, but not fuch fentimental friends, as Pylades or Oreftes, Nyfus and Euryalus, &c. but he will make people in general with him well, and inclined to ferve him in any thing not inconfiftent with their own intereft.

Civility is the effential article towards pleafing, and is the refult of good-nature and of good fenfe; but good-breeding is the decoration, the luftre of civility, and only to be acquired by a minute attention to, and experience of good company. A good-natured ploughman or fox-hunter, may be intentionally as civil as the politest courtier; but their manner often degrades and vilifies the matter; whereas, in goodbreeding, the manner always adorns and dignifies the matter to fuch a degree, that I have often known it give currency to bafe coin.

Civility is often attended by a ceremonioufnefs, which good-breeding corrects, but will not quite abolish. A certain degree of ceremony is a neceffary out-work of manners, as well as of religion: it keeps the forward and petulant at a proper diftance, and is a very fmall reftraint to the fenfible, and to the well-bred part world.

Chesterfield.

§ 21. A Dialogue between PLINY the Elder and PLINY the Younger.

Pliny the Elder. The account that you give me, nephew, of your behaviour amidst the terrors and perils that accompanied the firft eruption of Vefuvius, does not please me much. There was more of vanity in it than true magnanimity. Nothing is great that is unnatural and affected. When the earth thook beneath you, when, the heavens were obfcured with fulphureous clouds, full of afhes and cinders thrown up from the bowels of the new-formed volcano, when all nature feemed on the brink of deftruction, to be reading Livy, and making extracts, as if all had been fafe and quiet about you, was an abfurd affectation.-To meet danger with courage is the part of a man, but to be infenfible of it, is brutal ftupidity; and to pretend infenfibility where it cannot exift, is ridiculous falfenefs. When you afterwards refufed to leave your aged

mother,

mother, and fave yourself without her by flight, you indeed acte nobly. It was allo becoming a Roman to keep up her fpirits, amidst all the horors of that dreadful fcene, by fhewing yourself undifmayed and courageous. But the merit and glory of this part of your conduct is funk by the other, which gives an air of oftentation and vanity to the whole.

Pliny the Younger. That vulgar minds fhould fuppofe my attention to my ftudies in fuch a conjuncture unnatural and affect ed, I should not much wonder: but that you would blame it as fuch, I did not expect; you, who approached ftill nearer than I to the fiery storm, and died by the fuffocating heat of the vapour.

Pliny the Elder. I died, as a good and brave man ought to die, in doing my duty. Let me recall to your memory all the particulars, and then you fhall judge your felf on the difference of your conduct and mine. I was the præfect of the Roman fleet, which then lay at Mifenum. Upon the first account I received of the very unufual cloud that appeared in the air, I ordered a veffel to carry me out to fome distance from the fhore, that I might the better obferve the phenomenon, and try to discover its nature and caufe, This I did as a philofopher, and it was a curiofity proper and natural to a searching, inquifitive mind. I offered to take you with me, and furely you should have defired to go; for Livy might have been read at any other time, and such spectacles are not frequent: but you remained fixed and chained down to your book with a pedantic attachment. When I came out from my houfe, I found all the people forfaking their dwellings, and flying to the fea, as the fafeft retreat. To affift them, and all others who dwelt on the coaft, I immediately ordered the fleet to put out, and failed with it round the whole bay of Naples, fteering particularly to thofe parts of the fhore where the danger was greateft, and from whence the inhabitants were endeavouring to escape with the most trepidation. Thus I fpent the whole day, and preferved by my care fome thoufands of lives; noting at the fame time, with a steady compofure and freedom of mind, the feveral forms of and phenomena of the eruption. Towards night, as we approached to the foot of Vefuvius, all the gallies were covered with ashes and embers, which grew hotter and hotter; then fhowers of pumice ftones, and burnt and broken pyrites, began to fall on our heads:

and we were stopped by the obftacles which the ruins of the mountains had fuddenly formed by falling into the fea, and almost filling it up on the part of the coaft. I then commanded my pilot to steer to the villa of my friend Pomponianus, which you know was fituated in the inmoft recets of the bay. The wind was very favourable to carry me thither, but would not allow him to put off from the fhore, as he wished to have done. We were therefore conftrained to pass the night in his house. They watched, and I flept, until the heaps of pumice-ftones, which fell from the clouds, that had now been impelled to that fide of the bay, rose so high in the area of the apartment I lay in, that I could not have got out had I ftaid any longer; and the earthquakes were fo violent, as to threaten every moment the fall of the house: we therefore thought it more fafe to go into the open air, guarding our heads as well as we could with pillows tied upon them. The wind continuing adverse, and the fea very rough, we remained on the fhore, until a fulphureous and fiery vapour oppreffed my weak lungs, and ended my life.-In all this I hope that I acted as the duty of my station required, and with true magnanimity. But on this occafion, and in many other parts of your life, I muft fay, my dear nephew, that there was a vanity mixed with your virtue, which hurt and difgraced it. Without that, you would have been one of the worthiest men that Rome has produced; for none ever excelled you in the integrity of your heart and greatness of your fentiments. Why would you lofe the substance of glory by feeking the fhadow? Your eloquence had the fame fault as your manners: it was too affected. You profeffed to make Cicero your guide and your pattern: but when one reads his panegyric upon Julius Cæfar, in his oration for Marcellus, and yours upon Trajan; the first feems the language of nature and truth, raised and dignified with all the majefty of the moft fublime eloquence; the latter appears the ftudied harangue of a florid rhetorician, more defirous to fhine and set off his own wit, than to extol the great man he was praifing.

Pliny the Younger. I have too high a refpect for you, uncle, to question your judgment either of my life or my writings; they might both have been better, if I had not been too folicitous to render them perfect. But it is not for me to fay much on that fubject: permit me therefore to re3 G 2

turm

turn to the fubject on which we began our converfation. What a direful calamity was the eruption of Vefuvius, which you have now been defcribing! Do not you remember the beauty of that charming coaft, and of the mountain itself, before it was broken and torn with the violence of thofe fudden fires that forced their way through it, and carried defolation and ruin over all the neighbouring country? The foot of it was covered with corn-fields and rich meadows, interfperfed with fine villas and magnificent towns; the fides of it were clothed with the best vines in Italy, producing the richest and nobleft wines. How quick, how unexpected, how dreadful the change! all was at once overwhelmed with afhes, and cinders, and fiery torrents, prefenting to the eye the most difmal fcene of horror and deftruction!

Pliny the Elder. You paint it very truly. But has it never occurred to your mind, that this change is an emblem of that which must happen to every rich, luxurious ftate? While the inhabitants of it are funk in voluptuoufnefs, while all is fmiling around them, and they think that no evil, no danger is nigh, the feeds of deftruction are fermenting within; and, breaking out on a fudden, lay wafte all their opulence, all their delights; till they are left a fad monument of divine wrath, and of the fatal effects of internal corruption. Dialogues of the Dead.

§ 22. Humorous Scene at an Inn between BONIFACE and AIMWELL.

Bon. This way, this way, Sir.

Aim. You're my landlord, I fuppofe? Bon. Yes, Sir, I'm old Will Boniface; pretty well known upon this road, as the faying is.

fervant.

Aim. O, Mr. Boniface, your
Ben. O, Sir,-What will your honour
please to drink, as the faying is?

Aim. I have heard your town of Litch-
field much famed for ale; I think I'll tafte

that.

Bon. Sir, I have now in my cellar, ten
ton of the best ale in Staffordshire: 'tis
fmooth as oil, fweet as milk, clear as am-
ber, and strong as brandy; and will be just
fourteen years old the fifth day of next
March, old style.

Aim. You're very exact, I find, in the
age
ale.
of your
Bon. As punctual, Sir, as I am in the
children: I'll fhew you fuch
age of
ale. Here, tapfter; broach number 1706,

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my

as the faying is-Sir, you fhall taste my
anno domini.have lived in Litchfield,
man and boy, above eight-and-fifty years.
and, I believe, have not confumed eight-
and-fifty ounces of meat.

Aim. At a meal, you mean, if one may
guefs by your bulk.

Bon. Not in my life, Sir; I have fed
ale.
purely upon ale: I have eat my ale, drank
my ale, and I always fleep upon my

Enter Tapfter with a Tankard.
Now, Sir, you shall fee-Your worship's
health: [Drinks]-Ha! delicious, delici-
ous-Fancy it Burgundy, only fancy it-
and 'tis worth ten fhillings a quart.

Aim. [Drinks] 'Tis confounded ftrong. Bon. Strong! it must be fo. or how would we be strong that drink it?

Aim. And have you lived fo long upon this ale, landlord?

Bon. Eight-and-fifty years, upon my credit, Sir: but it kill'd my wife, poor woman! as the faying is.

Aim. How came that to pass?

Bon. I don't know how, Sir-she would not let the ale take its natural course, Sir: the was for qualifying it every now and way from then with a dram, as the faying is; and an honeft gentleman that came this Ireland, made her a prefent of a dozen bottles of ufquebaugh-but the poor woman was never well after-but, however, I was obliged to the gentleman you know.

Aim. Why, was it the ufquebaugh that killed her?

Bon. My lady Bountiful faid fo-She, good lady, did what could be done: the cured her of three tympanies: but the fourth carried her off: but the's happy, and I'm contented, as the faying is.

Aim. Who's that lady Bountiful you mentioned?

Bon. Odds my life, Sir, we'll drink her Her laft hufhealth: [Drinks]-My lady Bountiful is

one of the best of women.
band, Sir Charles Bountiful, left her worth
a thousand pounds a year; and, I believe,
fhe lays out one-half on't in charitable uses
for the good of her neighbours.

Aim. Has the lady any children?

Bon. Yes, Sir, fhe has a daughter by Sir Charles; the fineft woman in all our county, and the greatest fortune. She has a fon too, by her first husband, 'fquire Sullen, who married a fine lady from London t'other day if you please, Sir, we'll drink his health. [Drinks.]

:

Aim. What fort of a man is he?
Bon. Why, Sir, the man's well enough:
fays

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