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of any other lady are so many Ridicules' during the play's stones thrown at her; she can original run of one hundred by no means bear them, they and twenty nights in Paris in make her so uneasy, that she 1659. Preciosity is common in cannot keep her seat, but up all countries and in every age, she riseth and goeth home but fortunately assumes epihalf - burst with anger and demic form but rarely. There strait-lacing." Now there are is many a mute inglorious a few rare women who can Postlethwaite among us who bear to hear men praising the is now doomed to waste his more homely virtues of another sweetness on the desert air. woman, but are there any who But his time will assuredly can suffer in silence while a come again, and do not the friend's fine eyes or pearl-like pages of 'Punch' testify to his teeth are mentioned in tones of brief but dazzling outbreak in genuine unstinted admiration ? the middle of the nineteenth They do not necessarily rise century? and go home half-burst with He conoludes the chapter, anger, but even the very best "Let this picture supply the of them will sniff ever so little, place of any other rules which and remark that belladonna might be given to prevent dilates the pupil in a wonder- your resemblance to it; the ful way, or that Brown the deformity of it, well-considered, dentist is such a clever man. is instruction enough; from Lord Halifax

Halifax expects too the same reason that the sight much.

of a drunkard is a better serPreciosity, a very different mon against that vice than the thing, is severely castigated. best that was ever preached The précieuse would have it upon that subject. thought "that she is made of

Pride, he says, is a different 80 much the finer clay thing to Vanity, and a word of that she hath common various meanings. “ A woman earth about her. To this end is not to be proud of her fine she must neither move

gown; nor when she hath less speak like other women, be- wit than her neighbours, to cause it would be vulgar; and comfort herself that she hath therefore must have a lan- more lace. Some ladies put so guage of her own, since ordin- much weight upon their ornaary English is too coarse for ments

that even the her. . . . She cometh into a thought of death is made less room as if her limbs were set heavy to them by the contemon with ill-made screws, which plation of their being laid out maketh the company fear the in state, and honourably atpretty thing should leave some tended to the grave." We of its artificial person upon the most of us like the idea of floor.Lord Halifax evidently having a fine Wake! Pride knows his Molière. He may ought not to take the form of have seen 'Les

Précieuses an excessive belief in Quality, or

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good birth. “ Some make Avoid gambling. Quality an idol, and then their pay exactly, it will be inreason must fall down and quired from whence the money worship it. They would have cometh.” If you owe money the world think, that no to a man, and cannot pay him, amends

be made he “will be thought no unfair for the

of great creditor, if where the Estate title or an ancient coat of faileth he seizeth


the arms."


Besides, if & lady True pride is directed against could see her own face upon vice and folly, and “it is safer an ill game, at a deep stake, for a woman to be thought too she would certainly forswear proud than too familiar." anything that could put her

“The last thing I shall re- looks under such & disadcommend to you is a wise and vantage.” a safe method of using diver- Half an hour in the rooms at sions. To be too eager in the Monte Carlo

Carlo will be quite pursuit of pleasure whilst you enough to convince any one are young, is dangerous; to of the truth of this last statecatch at it in riper years, is ment. No passion, no other grasping a shadow." She is vice, so affects its victim's warned against "turning her countenance; nothing makes & whole life into a holiday,” but woman uglier, with more he will allow that some diver- permanent ugliness, than gamsion is necessary, as “the mind bling. like the body is tired by being Kitchen Lancers be would always in one posture. Some not have liked. The end of fine ladies, he says, “are learning to dance is to know engaged in a circle of idleness, how to move gracefully. “It where they turn round for the is better for a woman never whole year,

without the in- to dance, because she hath no terruption of a serious hour. skill in it, than to do it too They know all the players' often, because she doth it names, and are intimately ac- well." quainted with all the booths He

makes end. in Bartholomew fair. No “Much more might be said soldier is more obedient to to all these heads and many the sound of his captain's more might be added to them. trumpet, than they are to that But I must

restrain my which summoneth them to a thoughts which are full of my puppet - play or Monster. dear child, and would overflow The spring, that bringeth out into a volume, which would not flies, and fools, maketh them be fit for a New Year's gift. inhabitants in Hide-Park; in I will conclude with my warmthe winter they are an incum- est wishes for all that is good brance to the playhouse, and to you. That you may live so the ballast of the drawing- as to be an ornament to your room.”

family and a pattern to your




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.. that wit and vertue times it was well to walk may both conspire to make warily, for politician or for you a great figure. . . . Let grande dame, but one cannot me conjure you, My Dearest, help feeling that a leaning to comply with this kind am- towards greater boldness on bition of father, whose occasions would have been an thoughts are so ingaged in improvement. To throw your your behalf, that he reckoneth friends overboard lest they your Happiness to be the great- compromise you, but not to do est part of his own.”

it too soon lest you may be The advice is obviously that called a false friend—this is of a man qui connait sa monde, craven counsel. It is a risky -some of it suggests that he thing to defy the world, ceris a little afraid of it. He is tainly; but at times the angry not inspired by high principle beast can be stilled by rightor religious feeling; the world eous anger or a brave demeanis master, and his daughter our, and loves to tear the hand must make the best of it, and that strokes it over - gently not provoke its censure, for it is But with the largest part of “an angry beast" when roused, the essay one cannot quarrel ; and will tear her in pieces. it is freshly, vigorously written, He was caution itself in his and one can only hope that his political career, and he wishes daughter profited by it, and beto make his daughter as oare- came all that his heart could ful in hers. No doubt in those have desired.


[This poem commemorates an event of some years ago, when a young Englishmanstill remembered by many of his contemporaries at Oxford-went up into Mount Ida and was never seen again.]

Not cypress, but this warm pine-plumage now

Fragrant with sap, I pluck; nor bid you weep
Ye Muses that still haunt the heavenly brow

Of Ida, though the ascent is hard and steep: Weep not for him who left us wrapped in sleep At dawn beneath the holy mountain's breast

And all alone from Ilion's gleaming shore Clomb the high sea-ward glens, fain to drink deep Of earth's old glory from your silent crest,

Take the cloud-conquering throne

Of gods, and gaze alone Thro' heaven. Darkling we slept who saw his face no more.


Ah yet, in him hath Lycidas a brother,

And Adonaïs will not say him nay,
And Thyrsis to the breast of one sweet Mother

Welcomes him, climbing by the self-same way:
Quietly as a cloud at break of day
Up the long glens of golden dew he stole

(And surely Bion called to him afar !)
The tearful hyacinths, and the green-wood spray
Clinging to keep him from the sapphire goal,

Kept of his path no trace!

Upward the yearning face
Clomb the ethereal height, calm as the morning star,


For thou wast ever alien to our skies,

A wistful stray of radiance on this earth,
A changeling with deep memories in thine eyes

Mistily gazing thro' our loud-voiced mirth
To some fair land beyond the gates of birth ;
Yet, as a star thro' clouds, thou still didst shed

Through our dark world thy lovelier, rarer glow;
Time, like a picture of but little worth,
Before thy young hand lifelessly out-spread,

At one light stroke from thee

Gleamed with Eternity; Thou gav'st the master's touch, and we—we did not know.


Ah yet, incline, dear Sisters, or my song

That with the light wings of the skimming swallow
Must range the reedy slopes, will work him wrong!

And with some golden shaft do thou, Apollo,
Show the pine-shadowed path that none may follow;
For, as the blue air shuts behind a bird,

Round him closed Ida's cloudy woods and rills !
Day-long, night-long, by echoing height and hollow,
We called him, but our tumult died un-heard :

Down from the scornful sky

Our faint wing-broken cry
Fluttered and perished among the many-folded hills.

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Ay, though we clomb each faint-flushed peak of vision,

Nought but our own sad faces we divined:
Thy radiant way still laughed us to derision,

And still revengeful Echo proved unkind;
And oft our faithless hearts half feared to find
Thy cold corse in some dark mist-drenched ravine

Where the white foam flashed head-long to the sea :
How should we find thee, spirits deaf and blind
Even to the things which we had heard and seen?

Eyes that could see no more

The old light on sea and shore, What should they hope or fear to find? They found not thee;


Not though we gazed from heaven o'er Ilion

Dreaming on earth below, mistily crowned
With towering memories, and beyond her shone

The wine-dark seas Achilles heard resound!
Only, and after many days, we found
Dabbled with dew, at border of a wood

Bedded in hyacinths, open and a-glow
Thy Homer's Iliad.

Dryad tears had drowned The rough Greek type and, as with honey or blood,

One croous with crushed gold

Stained the great page that told
Of gods that sighed their loves on Ida, long ago.

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