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• lives upon what I get, without bringing any thing into • the common stock. Now, sir, as on the one hand I • take care not to behave myself towards him like a
wasp, so likewise I would not have him look upon me as an humble bee; for which reason I do all I can to put him upon laying up provisions for a bad day, and frequently represent to him the fatal effects his sloth and negligence may bring upon us in our old age. I must beg that you will join with me in your good adyice upon this occasion, and you will for ever oblige "Your humble servant,
Piccadilly, October 31, 1711. • I AM joined in wedlock for my sins to one of those fillies who are described in the old poet with that hard name you gave us the other day. She has a flowing
mane, and a skin as soft as silk : but, fir, she passes half • her life at her glass, and almoft ruins me in ribbons. • For my own part, I am a plain handicraft man, and in
danger of breaking by her laziness and expensiveness. « Pray, master, tell me in your next paper, whether 1
may not expect of her so much drudgery as to take care of her family, and to curry her hide in case of refusal.
• Your loving friend,
• BARNABY BRITTLE.!
• Mr. SPECTATOR,
Cheapfide, October 30, • I AM mightily pleased with the humour of the cat; • be so kind as to enlarge upon that subject.
• Yours till death,
JOSIAH HenPeck. "P. S. You must know I am married to a Grimalkin.'
Wapping, October 31,1711: · EVER since your Spectator of Tuesday last caine into our family, my husband is pleased to call me his Oceana, because the foolish old poet that you have VOL. III.
• translated says, that the souls of some women are made • of sea-water. This, it feeins, has encouraged my sauce• box to be witty upon me. When I am angry, he cries
pr’ythee, my dear, be calm; when Ichide one of my ser
vants, pr’ythee, child, do not bluster. He trad the impu. dence about an hour ago to tell me, that he was a sea• faring man, and must expect to divide his life between • storm and sunshine. When I beftir myself with any
spirit in my family, it is high sea in his house ; and
when I lit itill without doing any thing, his affairs for• sooth are wind-bound. When I ask him whether it
rains, he makes answer, it is no matter, so that it be « fair weather within doors. In 1hort, sir, I cannot speak • my mind freely to him, but I either swell or rage, or • do something that is not fit for a civil woman to hear.
Pray, Mr. SPECTATOR, since you are fo sharp upon ' other women, let us know what materials your wife is 'made of, if you have one. I suppose you would make ' us a parcel of poor-spirited tame infipid creatures: but,
sir, I would have you to know, we have as good parfions in us, as yourself, and that a woman was never
designed to be a milk-sop. L.
Friday, November 2.
-Eripe, turpi Colln jugo, liber, liber sum, dic age--Hor. Sat: 7.1.2.v.92. --Loose thy neck from this ignoble chair, And boldly say, thou’rt free.
CRE ECH. « Mr. SPECTATOR, I never look upon my dear wife, but I think • of the happiness fir Roger de Coverley enjoys, • in having fuch a friend as you to expose in proper
colours the cruelty and perverseness of his mistress.
I have very often wilhed you visited in our family, * and were acquainted with my spouse ; she would afford you
for some months at least matter enough for
one Spectator a week. Since we are not so happyas to be of your acquaintance, give me leave to represent to
you our present circumstances as well as I can in writing. ! You are to know then that I am not of a
different . constitution from Nathaniel Henroost, whom
you have • lately recorded in your speculations ; and have a ' wife who makes a more tyrannical use of the know
ledge of my easy temper than that lady ever pretend'ed to. We had not been a month married, when the ' found in me, a certain pain to give offence, and an in
dolence that made me bear little inconveniencies ra'ther than dispute about them. From this observation it 'foon came to that pass, that if I offered to go abroad, ' she would get between me and the door, kiss me, and
say she could not part with me ; and then down again • I lat. In a day or two after this first pleasant step to
wards confining me, she declared to me, that I was all
the world to her, and she thought she ought to be all • the world to me. If, said she, my dear loves me as
much as I love him, he will never be tired of my company. This declaration was followed by my being denied to all my acquaintance ; and it very soon came to that pass, that to give an answer at the door before my face, the servants would ask her whether I was within or not; and she would answer No with great fondness, and tell me I was a good dear. I will not enumerate more little circumstances to give you a livelier sense of my condition ; but tell you in general, that from such steps as these at first, I now live the • life of a prisoner of state ; my letters are opened, and • I have not the use of pen, ink, and paper, but in her
presence. I never go abroad, except the fometiines takes me with her in her coach to take the air, if it may
be called so, when we drive, as we generally do, ' with the glasses up. I have over-heard my servants la
ment my condition, but they dare not bring me mefsages without her knowledge, because they doubt my resolution to stand by them. In the midst of this infipid way of life, an old acquaintance of mine, Tom Meggot,
who is a favourite ith her, llowed to ' her company, because he sings prettily, has roused me · to rebel, and conveyed his intelligence to me in the
following manner. My wife is a great pretender to mufic, and very ignorant of it ; but far gone in the Italian taste. Tom goes to Armstrong, the famous fine writer of music, and desires him to put this sentence
of Tully in the scale of an Italian air, and write it out ' for my spouse from him. “ An ille mihi liber cui “ mulier imperat ? Cui leges imponit, præfcribit, jubet, “ vetat, quod videtur? Qui nihil imperanti negare, nihil “ recufare audet? Pofcit? dandum eft. Vocat? venias endum. Ejicit ? abeundum. Minitatur? extimefcen“ dum. Does he live like a gentleman who is com“ manded by a woman? He to whom she gives law,
grants and denies what she pleases? who can neither deny her any thing she asks, or refuse to do any thing she commands ?” • To be short, my wife was extremely pleased with it;
said, the Italian was the only language for music; and • admired how wonderfully tender the sentiment was, • and how pretty the accent is of that language, with the • rest that is said by rote on that occasion. Mr. Meggot
is fent for to fing this air, which he performs with mighty applause; and my wife is in ecstacy on the oc
calion, and glad to find, by my being so much pleased, " that I was at last come into the notion of the Italian ;
for, said she, it grows upon one when one once comes • to know a little of the language : and pray,
Mr. * Meggot, sing again those notes, “ Nihil imperanti
negare, nihil reculare.” You may believe I was not a • little delighted with my friend Ton's expedient to
alarm nie, and in obedience to his funmons I give all " this story thus at large ; and I am resolved, when this appears in the Spectator, to declare for myself
. The manner of the insurrection I contrive by your means,
which shall be no other than that Tom Meggot, who * is at our tea-table every morning, shall read it to us ; • and if my dear can take the bint, and say not one ' word, but let this be the beginning of a new life with
out farther explanation, it is very well; for as soon as • the Spectator is read out, I shall without more ado, call" • for the coach, name the hour when I shall be at home,
if I come at all; if I do not, they may go to dinner, • If my spoule only swells and says nothing, Tom and I
go out together, and all is well, as I said before ; but if she begins to command or expoftulate, you shall in
my next to you receive a full account of her resistance ' and submission, for submit the dear thing must to,
• Your most obedient humble servant,
ANTHONY FREEMAN. • P.S. I hope I need not tell you that I desire this may be in your very next.'
Saturday, November 3.
Mens fibi confcia redi. VIRG, Æn. 1. ver. 608.
A good intention. It is the great art and secret of Christianity, if I may use that phrase, to manage our actions to the best advanlage, and direct them in such a manner, that every thing we do niay turn to account at that great day, when every thing we have done will be set before us. In order to give this consideration its full
weight, we may cast all our actions under the division of such as are in themselves either good, evil, or indifferent. If we divide our intentions after the same manner, and consider them with regard to our actions, we may discover that great art and secret of religion which I have here nientioned.
A good intention joined to a good action, gives it its proper force and efficacy : joined to an evil action, extenuates its malignity, and in some cases may take it wholly away ; and joined to an indifferent action turns it to a virtue, and makes it meritorious as far as human actions can be fo.
In the next place, to consider in the same manner the influence of an evil intention upon our actions. An evil intention perverts the best of actions, and makes them in reality, what the fathers with a witty kind of zeal have termed the virtues of the heathen world, so many shining