This evening “The Alchemist"[200] was played.  This comedy is an example of Ben’s extensive genius and penetration into the passions and follies of mankind.  The scene in the fourth act, where all the cheated people oppose the man that would open their eyes, has something in it so inimitably excellent, that it is certainly as great a masterpiece as has ever appeared by any hand.  The author’s great address in showing covetousness the motive of the actions of the Puritan, the epicure, the gamester, and the trader; and that all their endeavours, how differently soever they seem to tend, centre only in that one point of gain, shows he had to a great perfection, that discernment of spirit, which constitutes a genius for comedy.

White’s Chocolate-house, May 11.

It is not to be imagined how far the violence of our desires will carry us towards our own deceit in the pursuit of what we wish for.  A gentleman here this evening was giving me an account of a dumb fortune-teller,[201] who outdoes Mr. Partridge, myself, or the unborn-doctor,[202] for predictions.  All his visitants come to him full of expectations, and pay his own rate for the interpretations they put upon his shrugs and nods.  There is a fine rich City widow stole thither the other day (though it is not six weeks since her husband’s departure from her company to rest), and, with her trusty maid, demanded of him, whether she should marry again, by holding up two fingers, like horns on her forehead.  The wizard held up both his hands forked.  The relict desired to know, whether he meant by his holding up both hands, to represent that she had one husband before, and that she should have another?  Or that he intimated, she should have two more?  The cunning-man looked a little sour; upon which Betty jogged her mistress, who gave the other guinea; and he made her understand, she should positively have two more; but shaked his head, and hinted, that they should not live long with her.  The widow sighed, and gave him the other half-guinea.  After this prepossession, all that she had next to do, was to make sallies to our end of the town, and find out who it is her fate to have.  There are two who frequent this place, whom she takes for men of vogue, and of whom her imagination has given her the choice.  They are both the appearances of fine gentlemen, to such as do not know when they see persons of that turn; and indeed, they are industrious enough to come at that character, to deserve the reputation of being such:  but this town will not allow us to be the things we seem to aim at, and are too discerning to be fobbed off with pretences.  One of these pretty fellows fails by his laborious exactness; the other, by his as much studied negligence.  Frank Careless, as soon as his valet has helped on and adjusted his clothes, goes to his glass, sets his wig awry, tumbles his cravat; and in short, undresses himself to go into company.  Will Nice is so little satisfied with his dress, that all the time he is at a visit,