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 thePopish-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.
Monsieur
Bruyère
has given us the Character of
an absent
Man
2
, 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, butMenalcaslaughs 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,Menalcasthrows 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,Menalcasrises 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;Menalcasis no less so, but is every Moment in Hopes that his impertinent Guest will at last end his tedious Visit. Night comes on, whenMenalcasis 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, whichMenalcasdoes 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,saysMenalcas, for they were with me.
X.
Footnote 1:
Seneca
de Tranquill. Anim
. cap. xv.
'Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixturâ dementiæ'
Dryden's lines are in Part I of
Absalom and Achitophel
.
return to footnote mark
Footnote 2:
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.
return
Contents
Cum Talis sis, Utinam noster esses!translation
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 yourSpectators; 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 theCambridgeAffair, 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.Ihave already had the Satisfaction of seeing you take that Liberty with some things I have before sent you1.Go on, Sir, and prosper. You have the best Wishes ofSir, 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 theClub Of Ugly Faceswas instituted originally atCambridgein the merry Reign of KingCharlesII. 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 toClarehall, (the ugliestthenin the Town, tho'nowthe neatest) would not be large enoughHandsomelyto hold the Company. Invitations were made to great Numbers, but very few accepted them without much Difficulty.Onepleaded that being atLondonin a Bookseller's Shop, a Lady going by with a great Belly longed to kiss him.Hehad certainly been excused, but that Evidence appeared, That indeed one inLondondid pretend she longed to kiss him, but that it was only aPickpocket, who during his kissing her stole away all his Money.Anotherwould have got off by a Dimple in his Chin; but it was proved uponhim, that he had, by coming into a Room, made a Woman miscarry, and frightened two Children into Fits. AThirdalledged, 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. AFourthproduced 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 inVenison Season. A pleasantFellow of King's College(commonly calledCrabfrom 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 ofPresident, at the upper end of the Table; and there the Business stuck, for there was no Contention for Superioritythere. This Affair made so great a Noise, that the King, who was then atNewmarket, 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 whenthe wise Man who shall write your true Historyshall acquaint the World, That you had aDiplomasent from theUgly Club atOxford, and that by vertue of it you were admitted into it, what a learned Work will there be amongfuture Criticksabout the Original of that Club, which both Universities will contend so warmly for? And perhaps some hardyCantabrigianAuthor may then boldly affirm, that the WordOxfordwas an interpolation of someOxonianinstead ofCambridge. This Affair will be best adjusted in your Life-time; but I hope your Affection to yourMotherwill not make you partial to yourAunt.To tell you, Sir, my own Opinion: Tho' I cannot find any ancient Records of any Acts of theSociety of the Ugly Faces, considered in apublickCapacity; yet in aprivateone they have certainly Antiquity on their Side. I am perswaded they will hardly give Place to theLowngers, and theLowngersare 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 admittedad eundematCambridge; and I believe I may venture safely to deliver this as the Wish of our Whole University.'To Mr.Spectator.The humble Petition ofWhoandWhich.Sheweth,'Thatyour 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,ThatThatthat noble Lord urged; which if one of us had had Justice done, would have sounded nobler thus,ThatWhichthat noble Lord urged. Senates themselves, the Guardians ofBritishLiberty, have degraded us, and preferredThatto 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 everyBody,WordandThing, 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:OurFatherWhichart in Heaven, should be,Our FatherWhoart in Heaven; and even aConvocationafter long Debates, refused to consent to an Alteration of it. In ourgeneral Confessionwe say, —Spare thou them, O God,Whichconfess their Faults, which ought to be,Whoconfess 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.'TheSpanishProverb 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, butin 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.
Il sabio muda consejo, il necio no;
A wise Man changes his Mind, a Fool never will.
R.
Footnote 1:
This letter is probably by Laurence Eusden, and the preceding letter by the same hand would be the account of the Loungers in
No. 54.
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.
return to footnote mark
Contents
Oderunt peccare boni virtutis amore.Hor.translation
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 beauteousPhilautia, who is (in your Language) anIdol, 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 thisIdolby 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 isDulcianarais 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,'
Together lye her Prayer-book and Paint,At once t' improve the Sinner and the Saint.
B.
Contents
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
.