mine.  We speak to one another civilly, hate one another heartily; and because it is Vulgar to Lye and Soak together, we have each of us our several Settle-Bed.  That of Soaking together is as good as if Dorimant had spoken it himself; and, I think, since he puts Human Nature in as ugly a Form as the Circumstances will bear, and is a staunch Unbeliever, he is very much Wronged in having no part of the good Fortune bestowed in the last Act.

To speak plainly of this whole Work, I think nothing but being lost to a sense of Innocence and Virtue can make any one see this Comedy, without observing more frequent Occasion to move Sorrow and Indignation, than Mirth and Laughter.  At the same time I allow it to be Nature, but it is Nature in its utmost Corruption and Degeneracy. [2]

R.

[Footnote 1:  ‘The Man of Mode’, or ‘Sir Fopling Flutter’, by Sir George Etherege, produced in 1676.  Etherege painted accurately the life and morals of the Restoration, and is said to have represented himself in Bellair; Beau Hewit, the son of a Herefordshire Baronet, in Sir Fopling; and to have formed Dorimant upon the model of the Earl of Rochester.]

[Footnote 2:  To this number of the Spectator is appended the first advertisement of Pope’s ‘Essay on Criticism’.

This Day is publish’d An ESSAY on CRITICISM.

Printed for W. Lewis in Russell street Covent-Garden;
and Sold by W. Taylor, at the Ship in Pater Noster Row;
T. Osborn, in Gray’s Inn near the Walks;
T. Graves, in St. James’s Street;
and T. Morphew, near Stationers-Hall.

Price 1s.]

* * * * *

No. 66.  Wednesday, May 16, 1711.  Steele.

      ’Motus doceri gaudet Ionicos
      Matura Virgo, et fingitur artubus
      Jam nunc, et incestos amores
      De Tenero meditatur Ungui.’

      Hor.

The two following Letters are upon a Subject of very great Importance, tho’ expressed without an Air of Gravity.

  To the SPECTATOR.

SIR, I Take the Freedom of asking your Advice in behalf of a Young Country Kinswoman of mine who is lately come to Town, and under my Care for her Education.  She is very pretty, but you can’t imagine how unformed a Creature it is.  She comes to my Hands just as Nature left her, half-finished, and without any acquired Improvements.  When I look on her I often think of the Belle Sauvage mentioned in one of your Papers.  Dear Mr.  SPECTATOR, help me to make her comprehend the visible Graces of Speech, and the dumb Eloquence of Motion; for she is at present a perfect Stranger to both.  She knows no Way to express her self but by her Tongue, and that always to signify her Meaning.  Her Eyes serve her yet only to see with, and she is utterly a Foreigner to the Language of Looks and Glances.  In this I fancy you could help her