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Of this kind was that of poor Lucretia'; and yet we see Ovid has found an expedient even in this case. He describes a beautiful and royal virgin walking on the sea-shore, where she was discovered by Neptune, and violated after a long and unsuccessful importunity. To mitigate her sorrow, he offers her whatever she could wish for. Never certainly was the wit of woman more puzzled in finding out a stratagem to retrieve her honour. Had she desired to be changed into a stock or stone, a beast, fish, or fowl, she would have been a loser by it: or had she desired to have been made a sea-nymph, or a goddess, her immortality would but have perpetuated her disgrace. Give me, therefore,' said she, 'such a shape as may make me incapable of suffering again the like calamity, or of being reproached for what I have already suffered.' To be short, she was turned into a man, and, by that only means, avoided the danger and imputation she so much dreaded.

I was once myself in agonies of grief that are unutterable, and in so great a distraction of mind, that I thought myself even out of the possibility of receiving comfort. The occasion was as follows: When I was a youth, in a part of the army which was then quartered at Dover, I fell in love with an agreeable young woman, of a good family in those parts, and had the satisfaction of seeing my addresses kindly received, which occasioned the perplexity I am going to relate.

We were in a calm evening diverting ourselves upon the top of the cliff with the prospect of the sea, and trifling away the time in such little fondnesses as are most ridiculous to people in business, and most agreeable to those in love.

2 See N° 84.

In the midst of these our innocent endearments, she snatched a paper of verses out of my hand, and ran away with them. I was following her, when on a sudden the ground, though at a considerable distance from the verge of the precipice, sunk under her, and threw her down from so prodigious an height upon such a range of rocks, as would have dashed her into ten thousand pieces, had her body been made of adamant. It is much easier for my reader to imagine my state of mind upon such an occasion, than for me to express it. I said to myself, it is not in the power of heaven to relieve me! when I awaked, equally transported and astonished, to see myself drawn out of an affliction which, the very moment before, appeared to me altogether inextricable.

The impressions of grief and horror were so lively on this occasion, that while they lasted they made me more miserable than I was at the real death of this beloved person, which happened a few months after, at a time when the match between us was concluded; inasmuch as the imaginary death was untimely, and I myself in a sort an accessory; whereas her real decease had at least these alleviations, of being natural and inevitable.

The memory of the dream I have related still dwells so strongly upon me, that I can never read the description of Dover Cliff in Shakspeare's tragedy of King Lear, without a fresh sense of my escape. The prospect from that place is drawn with such proper incidents, that whoever can read it without growing giddy must have a good head, or a very bad one.

Come on, Sir, here's the place; stand still! how fearful
And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low?

The crows and choughs that wing the midway air,
Show scarce as gross as beetles. Half way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire-Dreadful trade!
Methinks he seems no bigger than his head.
The fishermen that walk upon the beach
Appear like mice, and yon tall anchoring bark
Diminish'd to her boat; her boat! a buoy
Almost too small for sight. The murmuring surge
That on th' unnumber'd idle pebbles beats,
Cannot be heard so high. I'll look no more,
Lest my brain turn.

ADDISON.

N° 118. TUESDAY, JANUARY 10, 1709-10.

Lusisti satis, edisti satis, atque bibisti,

Tempus abire tibi.

HOR. 2. Ep. ii. 214.

Already glutted with a farce of age,
'Tis time for thee to quit the wanton stage.

FRANCIS.

From my own Apartment, January 8.

I THOUGHT to have given over my prosecution of the dead for this season, having by me many other projects for the reformation of mankind; but I have received so many complaints from such different hands, that I shall disoblige multitudes of my correspondents, if I do not take notice of them. Some of the deceased, who, I thought, had been laid quietly in their graves, are such hobgoblins in public assemblies, that I must be forced to deal with

them as Evander did with his triple-lived adversary; who, according to Virgil, was forced to kill him thrice over, before he could dispatch him.

Ter letho sternendus erat.

-Thrice I sent him to the Stygian shore.

I am likewise informed, that several wives of my dead men have, since the decease of their husbands, been seen in many public places, without mourning or regard to common decency.

I am further advised, that several of the defunct, contrary to the woollen act ', presume to dress themselves in lace, embroidery, silks, muslins, and other ornaments, forbidden to persons in their condition. These and other the like informations moving me thereunto, I must desire, for distinction sake, and to conclude this subject for ever, that when any of these posthumous persons appear, or are spoken of, that their wives may be called widows; their houses, sepulchres; their chariots, hearses; and their garments, flannel: on which condition, they shall be allowed all the conveniencies that dead men can in reason desire.

As I was writing this morning on this subject, I received the following letter:

MR. BICKERSTAFF,

From the banks of Styx. I MUST confess, I treated you very scurrilously when you first sent me hither; but you have dispatched such multitudes after me to keep me in countenance, that I am very well reconciled both to you, and my condition. We live very lovingly together; for as death makes us all equal, it makes us very much delight in one another's company. Our

130 Car. II. cap. 3.

time passes away much after the same manner as it did when we were among you; eating, drinking, and sleeping, are our chief diversions. Our Quidnuncs between whiles go to a coffee-house, where they have several warm liquors made of the waters of Lethe, with very good poppy-tea. We that are the sprightly geniuses of the place, refresh ourselves frequently with a bottle of mum, and tell stories until we fall asleep. You would do well to send among us Mr. Dodwell's book against the immortality of the soul, which would be of great consolation to our whole fraternity, who would be very glad to find that they are dead for good and all, and would in particular make me rest for ever.

2

'Yours,

6 JOHN PARTRIDGE.

P. S. Sir James 3 is just arrived here in good health.'

The foregoing letter was the more pleasing to me, because I perceive some little symptoms in it of a resuscitation; and, having lately seen the predictions of this author, which are written in a true protestant spirit of prophecy, and a particular zeal against the French king, I have some thoughts of sending for him from the banks of Styx, and reinstating him in his own house, at the sign of the Globe in Salisbury-street. For the encouragement of him and others, I shall offer to their considera

2 Henry Dodwell, M. A. a zealous and conscientious non-juror, was born in Dublin, 1641, and after a very studious and retired course of life, died at Shottesbrooke, in 1711.

3 Sir James Baker, called Sir Hannibal, in N° 115.

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