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PAGE 2

No. 118 [from The Spectator]
by [?]

Sir RODGER was proceeding in his Harangue, when we heard the Voice of one speaking very importunately, and repeating these Words, ‘What, not one Smile?’ We followed the Sound till we came to a close Thicket, on the other side of which we saw a young Woman sitting as it were in a personated Sullenness just over a transparent Fountain. Opposite to her stood Mr. William, Sir Roger’s Master of the Game. The Knight whispered me, ‘Hist, these are Lovers.’ The Huntsman looking earnestly at the Shadow of the young Maiden in the Stream,

‘Oh thou dear Picture, if thou couldst remain there in the Absence of that fair Creature whom you represent in the Water, how willingly could I stand here satisfied for ever, without troubling my dear Betty herself with any Mention of her unfortunate William, whom she is angry with: But alas! when she pleases to be gone, thou wilt also vanish–Yet let me talk to thee while thou dost stay. Tell my dearest Betty thou dost not more depend upon her, than does her William? Her Absence will make away with me as well as thee. If she offers to remove thee, I’ll jump into these Waves to lay hold on thee; her self, her own dear Person, I must never embrace again–Still do you hear me without one Smile–It is too much to bear–‘

He had no sooner spoke these Words, but he made an Offer of throwing himself into the Water: At which his Mistress started up, and at the next Instant he jumped across the Fountain and met her in an Embrace. She half recovering from her Fright, said in the most charming Voice imaginable, and with a Tone of Complaint,

‘I thought how well you would drown yourself. No, no, you won’t drown yourself till you have taken your leave of Susan Holliday.’

The Huntsman, with a Tenderness that spoke the most passionate Love, and with his Cheek close to hers, whispered the softest Vows of Fidelity in her Ear, and cried,

‘Don’t, my Dear, believe a Word Kate Willow says; she is spiteful and makes Stories, because she loves to hear me talk to her self for your sake.’

Look you there, quoth Sir Roger, do you see there, all Mischief comes from Confidents! But let us not interrupt them; the Maid is honest, and the Man dares not be otherwise, for he knows I loved her Father: I will interpose in this matter, and hasten the Wedding. Kate Willow is a witty mischievous Wench in the Neighbourhood, who was a Beauty; and makes me hope I shall see the perverse Widow in her Condition. She was so flippant with her Answers to all the honest Fellows that came near her, and so very vain of her Beauty, that she has valued herself upon her Charms till they are ceased. She therefore now makes it her Business to prevent other young Women from being more Discreet than she was herself: However, the saucy Thing said the other Day well enough, ‘Sir ROGER and I must make a Match, for we are ‘both despised by those we loved:’ The Hussy has a great deal of Power wherever she comes, and has her Share of Cunning.

However, when I reflect upon this Woman, I do not know whether in the main I am the worse for having loved her: Whenever she is recalled to my Imagination my Youth returns, and I feel a forgotten Warmth in my Veins. This Affliction in my Life has streaked all my Conduct with a Softness, of which I should otherwise have been incapable. It is, perhaps, to this dear Image in my Heart owing, that I am apt to relent, that I easily forgive, and that many desirable things are grown into my Temper, which I should not have arrived at by better Motives than the Thought of being one Day hers. I am pretty well satisfied such a Passion as I have had is never well cured; and between you and me, I am often apt to imagine it has had some whimsical Effect upon my Brain: For I frequently find, that in my most serious Discourse I let fall some comical Familiarity of Speech or odd Phrase that makes the Company laugh; However, I cannot but allow she is a most excellent Woman. When she is in the Country I warrant she does not run into Dairies, but reads upon the Nature of Plants; but has a Glass Hive, and comes into the Garden out of Books to see them work, and observe the Policies of their Commonwealth. She understands every thing. I’d give ten Pounds to hear her argue with my Friend Sir ANDREW FREEPORT about Trade. No, no, for all she looks so innocent as it were, take my Word for it she is no Fool.

T.