Mr. SPECTATOR,

I have for some Time made Love to a Lady, who received it with all the kind Returns I ought to expect.  But without any Provocation, that I know of, she has of late shunned me with the utmost Abhorrence, insomuch that she went out of Church last Sunday in the midst of Divine Service, upon my coming into the same Pew.  Pray, Sir, what must I do in this Business?  Your Servant, Euphues.

Let her alone Ten Days.

  York, Jan. 20, 1711-12.

  Mr. SPECTATOR,

We have in this Town a sort of People who pretend to Wit and write Lampoons:  I have lately been the Subject of one of them.  The Scribler had not Genius enough in Verse to turn my Age, as indeed I am an old Maid, into Raillery, for affecting a youthier Turn than is consistent with my Time of Day; and therefore he makes the Title to his Madrigal, The Character of Mrs. Judith Lovebane, born in the Year [1680. [1]] What I desire of you is, That you disallow that a Coxcomb who pretends to write Verse, should put the most malicious Thing he can say in Prose.  This I humbly conceive will disable our Country Wits, who indeed take a great deal of Pains to say any thing in Rhyme, tho they say it very ill.  I am, SIR, Your Humble Servant, Susanna Lovebane.

Mr. SPECTATOR, We are several of us, Gentlemen and Ladies, who Board in the same House, and after Dinner one of our Company (an agreeable Man enough otherwise) stands up and reads your Paper to us all.  We are the civillest People in the World to one another, and therefore I am forced to this way of desiring our Reader, when he is doing this Office, not to stand afore the Fire.  This will be a general Good to our Family this cold Weather.  He will, I know, take it to be our common Request when he comes to these Words, Pray, Sir, sit down; which I desire you to insert, and you will particularly oblige Your Daily Reader, Charity Frost.

  SIR,

I am a great Lover of Dancing, but cannot perform so well as some others; however, by my Out-of-the-Way Capers, and some original Grimaces, I don’t fail to divert the Company, particularly the Ladies, who laugh immoderately all the Time.  Some, who pretend to be my Friends, tell me they do it in Derision, and would advise me to leave it off, withal that I make my self ridiculous.  I don’t know what to do in this Affair, but I am resolved not to give over upon any Account, till I have the Opinion of the SPECTATOR.  Your humble Servant, John Trott.

If Mr. Trott is not awkward out of Time, he has a Right to Dance let who will Laugh:  But if he has no Ear he will interrupt others; and I am of Opinion he should sit still.

Given under my Hand this Fifth of February, 1711-12.

The SPECTATOR.

T.

[Footnote 1:  1750]

* * * * *