LITMIR.BIZ

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into the field at the latter end of this month, is now altered to a resolution of marching towards the camp about the 20th of the next. There happened the other day, in the road of Scheveling, an engagement between a privateer of Zealand and one of Dunkirk. The Dunkirker, carrying 33 pieces of cannon, was taken and brought into the Texel. It is said, the courier of Monsieur Rouillé77 is returned to him from the Court of France. Monsieur Vendôme being reinstated in the favour of the Duchess of Burgundy, is to command in Flanders.

      Mr. Kidney added, that there were letters of the 17th from Ghent, which give an account, that the enemy had formed a design to surprise two battalions of the allies which lay at Alost; but those battalions received advice of their march, and retired to Dendermond. Lieutenant-General Wood78 appeared on this occasion at the head of 5000 foot, and 1000 horse, upon which the enemy withdrew, without making any further attempt.

      From my own Apartment

      I am sorry I am obliged to trouble the public with so much discourse upon a matter which I at the very first mentioned as a trifle—viz. the death of Mr. Partridge,79 under whose name there is an almanack come out for the year 1709, in one page of which it is asserted by the said John Partridge, that he is still living, and that not only so, but that he was also living some time before, and even at the instant when I writ of his death. I have in another place, and in a paper by itself, sufficiently convinced this man that he is dead, and if he has any shame, I don't doubt but that by this time he owns it to all his acquaintance: for though the legs and arms, and whole body of that man may still appear and perform their animal functions; yet since, as I have elsewhere observed, his art is gone, the man is gone. I am, as I said, concerned, that this little matter should make so much noise; but since I am engaged, I take myself obliged in honour to go on in my lucubrations, and by the help of these arts of which I am master, as well as my skill in astrological speculations, I shall, as I see occasion, proceed to confute other dead men, who pretend to be in being, that they are actually deceased. I therefore give all men fair warning to mend their manners, for I shall from time to time print bills of mortality; and I beg the pardon of all such who shall be named therein, if they who are good for nothing shall find themselves in the number of the deceased.80

No. 2.

      [STEELE.

      From Tuesday, April 12, to Thursday, April 14, 1709

      Will's Coffee-house, April 13

      There has lain all this evening, on the table, the following poem. The subject of it being matter very useful for families, I thought it deserved to be considered, and made more public. The turn the poet81 gives it is very happy; but the foundation is from a real accident which happened among my acquaintance.82 A young gentleman of a great estate fell desperately in love with a great beauty of very high quality, but as ill-natured as long flattery and an habitual self-will could make her. However, my young spark ventures upon her, like a man of quality, without being acquainted with her, or having ever saluted her, till it was a crime to kiss any woman else. Beauty is a thing which palls with possession; and the charms of this lady soon wanted the support of good humour and complaisancy of manners. Upon this my spark flies to the bottle for relief from his satiety. She disdains him for being tired with that for which all men envied him; and he never came home, but it was: "Was there no sot that would stay longer? Would any man living but you? Did I leave all the world for this usage?" To which he: "Madam, split me, you are very impertinent!" In a word, this match was wedlock in its most terrible appearances. She, at last weary of railing to no purpose, applies to a good uncle, who gives her a bottle of water. "The virtue of this powerful liquor," said he, "is such, that if the woman you marry proves a scold (which, it seems, my dear niece, is your misfortune, as it was your good mother's before you), let her hold six spoonfuls in her mouth, for a full half hour after you come home—" But I find I am not in humour for telling a tale, and nothing in nature is so ungrateful as story-telling against the grain, therefore take it as the author has given it you.

      The MEDECINE

A Tale—for the Ladies

      Miss Molly, a famed toast, was fair and young,

      Had wealth and charms, but then she had a tongue

      From morn to night, the eternal larum run,

      Which often lost those hearts her eyes had won.

      Sir John was smitten, and confessed his flame,

      Sighed out the usual time, then wed the dame:

      Possessed he thought of every joy of life,

      But his dear Molly proved a very wife.

      Excess of fondness did in time decline,

      Madam loved money, and the knight loved wine.

      From whence some petty discords would arise,

      As, "You're a fool"; and, "You are mighty wise!"

      Though he and all the world allowed her wit,

      Her voice was shrill, and rather loud than sweet,

      When she began,—for hat and sword he'd call.

      Then, after a faint kiss, cry, "B'y, dear Moll:

      Supper and friends expect me at the Rose." 83

      And, "What, Sir John, you'll get your usual dose!

      Go, stink of smoke, and guzzle nasty wine,

      Sure, never virtuous love was used like mine!"

      Oft as the watchful bellman marched his round,

      At a fresh bottle gay Sir John he found.

      By four the knight would get his business done,

      And only then reeled off, because alone;

      Full well he knew the dreadful storm to come,

      But armed with bordeaux, he durst venture home.

      My lady with her tongue was still prepared,

      She rattled loud, and he impatient heard:

      "'Tis a fine hour? In a sweet pickle made!

      And this, Sir John, is every day the trade.

      Here I sit moping all the live-long night,

      Devoured with spleen, and stranger to delight;

      'Till morn sends staggering home a drunken beast,

      Resolved to break my heart, as well as rest."

      "Hey! Hoop! d'ye hear my damned obstreperous spouse!

      What, can't you find one bed about the house!

      Will that perpetual clack lie never still!

      That rival to the softness of a mill!

      Some couch and distant room must be my choice,

      Where I may sleep uncursed with wife and noise."

      Long this uncomfortable life they led,

      With snarling meals, and each, a separate bed.

      To an old uncle oft she would complain,

      Beg his advice, and scarce from tears refrain.

      Old Wisewood smoked the matter as it was,

      "Cheer up!" cried he, "and I'll remove the cause.

      "A wonderous spring within my garden flows,

      Of sovereign virtue, chiefly to compose

      Domestic

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