when in the complex idea, the vulgar conceive of colour as inherent in the object, that idea does no way correspond with the thing it is the image of: But when the learned, in their complex idea of colour, conceive of it no otherwise than as resulting from the colour'd body, as the occasion of it only, that idea is consentaneous to what it is desiga'd to represent. But it may not be, perhaps, improper to instance in an idea, which we know will never represent its object, and therefore we chuse the idea of the magnitude of bodies, for the more minute particles of bodies reflect so small a quantity of rays, that they cannot Atrike the optick nerves with force enough to produce an idea; and therefore when we form the idea of a body as of such a particular magnitude, that idea must necessarily be false, because it is the resemblance of but part of tbat, the whole of which it pretends to represent. And tho' we can so far rectify that idea, as to look upon it as a partial one, yet reason is incapable of supplying that unavoidable defect.

Q. Gentlemen, Your undertaking is great, the design is commendable, and your performance Mews that your parts are answerable. Go on and enlighten the world with true wisdom; promote virtue, discourage vice, advance learning, resolve doubts, make truth manifeft, and bring dark things to light ; that your works, like Apollo, may ever shine, and that we may have a firm foundation. Please to tell us, what is true wisdom, and wherein doth it confit?

À Imperfect, because negative, that definition of the poet-Sapientia prima ftultitia caruiffe.

We therefore shall define, or rather describe wisdom to you by a numeration of its integral parts ; for take it to consist in a discreet election of the best endi a prudent choice of the most proper means, with an induftrious application of them.

Q. A young Lady, whom I have the honour to be acquainted with, and to whom nature has been very generous in bestowing a good shape and face, which, tho' not the moff beautiful, yet is very agreeably handsome į and whicha

not

WC

a

not only ber glass, but every indifferent perfon (Speaking without prejudice) must confess: yet cannot she be persuaded to allow she has any thing in either that is inviting, nay, vows it is the truest sense of her foul, that so far from deserving the former character, she thinks her self really ugly.

Your impartial thoughts are desired, whether 'tis possible that any woman can be sincere, in a belief so contradictory to every body's eyes but her own ?

A. If this relation be true, our society cannot but esteem it a very extraordinary case, and must content themselves Gilently to admire the uncommon humility of this unexampled beauty, and assure our subscriber we shall record his story with that of the black swaa and the white crow, or even with the phenix it self, for we believe there will be hardly such another seen

in this age.

a

Q. What think you of Esq. Bickerstaff's prophecies, were they writ in jest or earneft?

A. In jest man! fie, fie! in earnest, you may lay your life on't. Efq; Bickerstaff is a downright conjurer; the dumb-man's a fool to him: he's as great a conjurer as Dr. Faustus, or the Brazen-bead of friar Bacon; and if you are one of those unhappy fouls his prophecies threaten death to, e'en fer your house in order, take leave of your friends, and die without grumbling.

I am already convinc'd by the Athenian oracle, our affections may be as highly ingag'd to a second objed as a first, if they have the same deserts; but 'tis you alone, the divinely glorious Apollo, can resolve, if the longes time we have on earth is sufficient to deface the lovelief idea my soul can now imagine a mortal endow'd with, jo as to believe any other preferable, or even equal ?

4. 'Tis the opinion of our society, that 'tis possible for time and ill usage to deface the brightest ideas che mind can be entertail's with of love ; for 'however accomplish'd this happy mortal may seem in his perfon, his foul may for some time wear a disguise, which by a close familiarity being taken off, his vices

may

may over-balance his virtues; and then, by consequence the pleasure of the idea must fink.

Besides, if we make a true judgment of things, we Thall find that all those joys which depend on the pasfions will always be fleeting as their objects ; for when love has no deeper a foundation, it is apt to be callid off by every new thing that strikes it.

Now if, as you seem to be a Lady of good sense, you

have also had the good fortune to place your eiteem on a person who is qualified to make a friend of, as well as a lover, we positively believe, if any thing can prevail against the injuries of time, and long acquaintance, it must be the pleasure of those ideas which arise from love and friendship, join'd in two such perfons.

Q. Te bright Phoebeans, tell us why,
When Orpheus fought Eurydice;
His longing Steps directed were
To hell to find his flying fair ?
How his harmonious strings could find
The art to foften Pluto's mind?
And yet no better bargain make,
But his twice dear-bought wife to take
On terms fo fender, that one caft
of backward look should prove his laft:
which truth most plainly does appear,
For when he look'd, she shrunk to air ?

A. Where, but to bell, should those fools go,
Who would again renew their woe ?
Sure none but he would take the pain
To bring a dead wife back again:
Pluto was vext that his soft airs
Should make the fiends forget their cares;
So, in revenge, he bid him

take
That froward thing, for whose dear fake
He could so fad a journey take.
But yet to shew the God could prize
The sweetness of his melodies;
Should be repent, he did ordain,
One look might send her back again.

}

Q. No

Q. Nothing by man's not subjugate to change,
Boldly, secure, thro' poets brains doth range ;
Let the grand numb’ring men fill rack their wit,
They never of it mall a number get :
Let him Multiplicators of it display,
And by additions vie with eviry way,
Half senseless, it is Nothing yet they'll fag.
Suppose Apollo after Nothing pries,
Shall he come back with Nothing and his eyes?

A. Here's a wise querist, to increase our tasks,
Something of Nothing writes, but nothing asks:
Then prithee honest Nothing speak more plain,
For we can now make Nothing of thy ftrain.

Q. Tell me, great fons of Phoebus, tell me why
Cordelia's charms can wound fo mortally ;
When she (bleft Fair) perceives the same desires,
And both our souls burn with love's chastest fires :
Tho' she is kind, my raging pains endure,
My love-fick mind can find no earthly cure :
The more me smiles, the more my pains increase,
No sovereign balm my wounded heart can ease ;
To you, of beavenly race, I suppliant come,
Since mortals can't, do

you

doom? A. Strange riddle! that Cordelia's charms are found Of force to make, yet not to heal the wound: The nymph is all your own, whom you adore, Yet whilft you've all your wish, you wish for more: Her charms are either short of your pretence, Or you to value them must want the sense : The Gods themselves a perfect bliss confels'd, When by the object of their love caress’d, But you, vain mortal, would above the Gods be blest.

Q. Pray let me know, wife Sirs, most venerable, Which of these fallowing Dons are the most honest, juft,

and honourable , Attorney, tally-man, or the devil?

A. You write your wit, wife Sir, so variable, That our thoughts are confus'd upon't, like the lan.

guages of Babel And to answer fo wise a question we are not able.

declare my

Q. Apollo, I pray you for to tell me,
Fust after that I've fill'd my belly,
The reason of my apt to seeping,
As if i had been åt hard drinking ;
In doing of which you'll much oblige, Sir,
Your humble servant 10 command, Sir,

N. Burdett,
A. The vap'rous particles arising
From the aliments, on gormandizing,
Incrassating the nervous liquor,
Bring Neep; and more, as that grows

thicker: And now we hope we have oblig'd, Sir, Our most humble servant to command, Sir. The Gentleman who defores to know the marks of true love,

may be pleas'd to see the description of in attempted in the following lines. Hat passion, which miftaken men improve

With so much tenderness, and think it love, Is but a wanton appetite disguis'd, Which by th' unthinking is too highly priz'd. Love is the dearest friendship, more refin’d, Adorning all the graces of the mind, Believing, faithful, constant, good and kind. The firft, like Oziers, yields to every gale, In that blind passion only do's prevail: But built on friendship, which the foul commands, The last like some tall oak securely stands. No tempests can its firm foundation shake, Till life diffolves, the springs of nature break : Nay, tho' repeated storms should blast the plains, Leaves only fall, the solid trunk remains.

T

}

To Hortensia, who desir'd to know, why Love was the

greatest pleasure, and the greatest pain.

W :

THen objects please lovers in every vein,

Confess a fund of sweetness, know no pain: Till cool reflection Shews some painful days, And reason fhocks those joys it cannot raise;

Thea