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of humour with all things which he meets with. "At length he takes a resolution to try his fate,
and explain with her refolutely upon her unac• countable carriage. He walks up to her apart
ment, with a thousand inquietudes and doubts "in what manner he shall mcet the first cast of her
eye; when upon his first appearance she flies to• wards him, wonders where he has been, accuses * hiin of his absence, and treats him with a famili' arity as surprising as her former coldness. This 'good correfpondence continues until the Lady • observes the lover grows happy in it, and then • fhe interrupts it with some new inconsistency of • behaviour.' For (as I just now faid) the happi.
nefs of a jilt consists only in the power of mak.
ing others uneasy. But such is the folly of this · fečt of women, that they carry on this pretty • skittish behaviour, until they have no charms left
to render it supportable. Corinna, that used to torment all who conversed with her with false glances, and little heedless unguarded motions, that were to betray some inclination towards the man fhe would infnare, finds at present all the
attempts that way unregarded; and is obliged to i indulge the jilt in her conftitution, by laying ar• 6.tificial plots, writing perplexing letters from un.
known hands, and making all the young fellows in love with her, until they find out who she is.
Thus, as before she gave torment by disguifing her inclination, she now is obliged to do it by hiding her person.
As for my own part, Mr. SPECTATOR, it has been my unhappy fate to be jilted from my youth upward ; and as my taste has been very much to. wards intrigue, and having intelligence with wo,
men of wit, my whole life has passed away in a ! series of impofitions. I shall, for the benefit of • the present race of young men, give some account 1 of my loves. I know not whether you have ever
• heard of the famous girl about town called Kitty : • This creature (for I must take shame upon myself) * was my mistress in the days when keeping was in • fashion. Kitty, under the appearance of being
wild, thoughtless, and irregular in all her words • and actions, concealed the most accomplished jilt s of her cime. Her negligence had to me a charm " in it like that of chastity, and want of desires sfeemed as great a merit as the conquest of them, • The air she gave herself was that of a romping
girl, and whenever I talked to her with any turn • of fondnefs, she would immediately snatch of
my periwig, try it upon herself in the glass, clap her arms a-kimbow, draw my sword, and make passes on the wall, take off my cravat, and seizę it to make fome other use of the lace, or run into
some other unaccountable rompishness, until the • time I had appointed to pass away with her was
over. I went from her full of pleasure at the re* flection that I had the keeping of so much beauty
in a woman, who, as she was too heedless to « please me, was also too umattentive to form a de
fign to wrong me. Long did I divert every hour • that hung heavy upon me in the company of this
creature, whom I looked upon as neither guilty * nor innocent, but could laugh at myself for my,
unaccountable pleasure in an expence upon her, * until in the end it appeared my pretty insensible was with child by my footman.
« This accident roused me into a disdain against • all libertine women, under what appearance soe• ver they hid their insincerity, and I resolved af* ter that time to converse with none but those who • lived within the rules of deceny and honour. To • this end I formed myself into a more regular turn • of behaviour, and began to make visits, frequent
affemblies, and lead out ladies from the theatres,
with all the other insignificant duties which the * profetled servants of the Fair place themselves in
• constant readiness to perform. In a very little i time, (having a plentiful fortune) fathers and mothers began to regard me as a good match, and I found easy admittance into the best families in town to observe their daugļiters; but I, who was
born to follow the Fair to no purpose, have by the • force of my ill stars made my application to three • jilts fücceflively.
Hyæna is one of those who form themselves into a melancholy and indolent air, and endea*'vour to gain admirers from their inattention to • all around them. Hyæna can loll in her coach, with something so fixed in her countenance, that it is impoffible to conceive her meditation is employed only on her dress and her charms in that posture. If it were not too coarse a simile, I Thould say, Hyæna, in the figure the affects to appear in, is a spider in the midst of a cobweb, that is sure to destroy every fly that approaches it. The net Hyæna throws is fo fine, that taken in it before you can observe any part of her work. I attempted her for a long and weary feason, but I found her paflion went no farther " than to be admired; and The is of thai unreason
able temper, as not to value the inconstancy of ' her lovers, provided she can boast lhe once had • their addreffes.
• Biblis was the second I aimed at, and her vanity lay in purchasing the adorers of others, and
not in rejoicing in their love itself. Biblis is no • man's mistress, but every woman's rival. As • soon as I found this, I fell in love with Chloe, • who is my present pleasure and torment. I have
writ to her, danced with her, and fought for her,
and have been her man in the fight and expecta• tion of the whole town these three years, and
thought myself near the end of my wishes; when • the other day she called me into her closet and • told me, with a very grave face, that she was a
woman of honour, and fcorned to deceive a man
who loved her with so much sincerity as the saw • I did, and therefore the must inform me that the
was by nature the most inconstant creature breath• ing, and begged of me not to marry her; if I in• fisted upon it, I should; but that she was lately
fallen in love with another. What to do or fay I know not, but desire you to inform me, and you will infinitely oblige, SIR, Your most humble servant,
• CHARLES YELLOW.'
A D V E R T I S E M E N T. Mr. Sly, Haberdasher of hats, at the corner of Devereux Court in the Strand, gives notice, that he has prepared very neat hats, rubbers, and brusbes for the use of young tradesmen in their lift year of apprenticesóip, at reasonable rates.
NO 188. FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5.
Lætus sum laudari a-te laudato viro.
Tull. It gives me pleasure, to be praised by you, wliom
all men praise. HE is a very unhappy man who fets his heart up
on being admired by the multitude, or affects a general and undistinguishing applause among men, What pious men call the testimony of a good conscience, should be the measure of our ambition in this kind ; that is to say, a man of spirit
hould contenın the praise of the ignorant, and like being applauded for nothing but what he knows in His own heart he deserves. Besides which the character of the person who commends you is to be considered, before
fet a value upon his esteem. The praise of an ignorant man is only.good-will, and
you should receive his kindness as he is a good VOL. III.
neighbour in society, and not as a good judge of your actions in point of fame and reputation. The satyrist said very well of popular praife and acclamations, Give the tinkers and coblers' their prefents again, and learn to live of yourself. It is an argument of a loose and ungoverned mind to be affected with the promiscuous approbation of the generality of mankind; and a man of virtue should be too delicate for fo coarse an appetite of fame. Men of honour should endeavour only to please the'worthy, and the man of merit should desire to be tried only by his peers. I thought it a noble fentiment which I heard yesterday uttered in converfation; I know, said a gentleman, a way to be greater than any man : If he has worth in him, I can rejoice in his superiority to me; and that satisfaction is a greater act of the soul in me, than any in him which can possibly appear to me. This thought could not proceed but from a candid and generous spirit; and the approbation of such minds is what may be esteemed true praise : For with the common rate of men there is nothing commendable but what they themselvès may hope to be partakers of, and arrive at: But the inotive truly glorious is, when the mind is fet rather to do things laudable, than to purchase reputation. Where there is that fincerity as the foundation of a good name, the kind opinion of virtuous men will be an unfought, but a necessary confequence. The Lacedemonians, tho' à plain people, and no pretenders to politeness, had a certain delicacy in their sense of glory, and facrificed to the muses when they entered upon any great enterprize. They wonld have the commemoration of their actions be transmitted by the purest and most untainted memorialists. The din which attends victories and publick triumphs is by far less eligible, than the recital of the actions of great men by honest and wife historians. It is a frivolous pleasure to be the admiration of gaping