on his Death-bed.  After some short confused Speeches which shew an Imagination disturbed with Guilt, just as he is expiring, King Henry standing by him full of Compassion, says,

    Lord Cardinal! if thou thinkst on Heavens Bliss,
    Hold up thy Hand, make Signal of that Hope! 
    He dies, and makes no Sign!—­

  The Despair which is here shewn, without a Word or Action on the Part
  of the dying Person, is beyond what could be painted by the most
  forcible Expressions whatever.

I shall not pursue this Thought further, but only add, That as Annihilation is not to be had with a Wish, so it is the most abject Thing in the World to wish it.  What are Honour, Fame, Wealth, or Power when compared with the generous Expectation of a Being without End, and a Happiness adequate to that Being?

I shall trouble you no further; but with a certain Gravity which these Thoughts have given me, I reflect upon some Things People say of you, (as they will of Men who distinguish themselves) which I hope are not true; and wish you as good a Man as you are an Author.

  I am, SIR, Your most obedient humble Servant, T. D.

Z.

[Footnote 1: 

  Hills peep o’er Hills, and Alps on Alps arise.

Popes Essay on Criticism, then newly published.]

* * * * *

No. 211 Thursday, November 1, 1711.  Addison.

  Fictis meminerit nos jocari Fabulis.

  Phaed.

Having lately translated the Fragment of an old Poet which describes Womankind under several Characters, and supposes them to have drawn their different Manners and Dispositions from those Animals and Elements out of which he tells us they were compounded; I had some Thoughts of giving the Sex their Revenge, by laying together in another Paper the many vicious Characters which prevail in the Male World, and shewing the different Ingredients that go to the making up of such different Humours and Constitutions. Horace has a Thought [1] which is something akin to this, when, in order to excuse himself to his Mistress, for an Invective which he had written against her, and to account for that unreasonable Fury with which the Heart of Man is often transported, he tells us that, when Prometheus made his Man of Clay, in the kneading up of his Heart, he season’d it with some furious Particles of the Lion.  But upon turning this Plan to and fro in my Thoughts, I observed so many unaccountable Humours in Man, that I did not know out of what Animals to fetch them.  Male Souls are diversify’d with so many Characters, that the World has not Variety of Materials sufficient to furnish out their different Tempers and Inclinations.  The Creation, with all its Animals and Elements, would not be large enough to supply their several Extravagancies.