’At my first going to Court, one of the great Men almost put me out of Countenance, by asking ten thousand Pardons of me for only treading by Accident upon my Toe.  They call this kind of Lye a Compliment; for when they are Civil to a great Man, they tell him Untruths, for which thou wouldst order any of thy Officers of State to receive a hundred Blows upon his Foot.  I do not know how I shall negociate any thing with this People, since there is so little Credit to be given to ’em.  When I go to see the King’s Scribe, I am generally told that he is not at home, tho’ perhaps I saw him go into his House almost the very Moment before.  Thou wouldest fancy that the whole Nation are Physicians, for the first Question they always ask me, is, how I do:  I have this Question put to me above a hundred times a Day.  Nay, they are not only thus inquisitive after my Health, but wish it in a more solemn Manner, with a full Glass in their Hands, every time I sit with them at Table, tho’ at the same time they would perswade me to drink their Liquors in such Quantities as I have found by Experience will make me sick.  They often pretend to pray for thy Health also in the same Manner; but I have more Reason to expect it from the Goodness of thy Constitution, than the Sincerity of their Wishes.  May thy Slave escape in Safety from this doubled-tongued Race of Men, and live to lay himself once more at thy Feet in thy Royal City of Bantam.’

[Footnote 1:  Tillotson.  The Sermon ‘Of Sincerity Towards God and Man.’  Works, Vol.  II., p. 6, folio ed.]

[Footnote 2:  In 1682.]

* * * * *

No. 558.  Wednesday, June 23, 1714.  Addison.

  ’Qui fit, Maecenas, ut nemo, quam sibi sortem
  Seu ratio dederit, seu fors objecerit, illa
  Contentus vivat:  laudet diversa sequentes? 
  O Fortunati mercatores, gravis annis
  Miles ait, multo jam fractus membra labore! 
  Contra mercator, navim jactantibus austris,
  Militia est potior.  Quid enim? concurritur? horae
  Momenta cita mors venit, aut victoria laeta. 
  Agricolam laudat juris legumque peritus,
  Sub galli cantum consultor ubi ostia pulsat. 
  Ille, datis vadibus, qui rure extractus in urbem est,
  Solos felices viventes clamat in urbe. 
  Caetera de genere hoc (adeo sunt multa) loquacem
  Delassare valent Fabium.  Ne te morer, audi
  Quo rem deducam.  Si quis Deus, en ego dicat,
  Jam faciam quod vultis:  eris tu, qui modo miles,
  Mercator:  tu consultus modo, rusticus.  Hinc vos,
  Vos hinc mutatis discedite partibus.  Eja,
  Quid statis?  Nolint.  Atque licet esse beatis.’

  Hor.