I am not acquainted with the artful turns and cunning that have been introduced into politics, but herein I have been entirely influenced by good faith, under the guidance of truth and juftice. If my fincerity, always the fame, is not fuccefsful, I am blamed for having made ufe of it; and what none can help deeming a virtue, is imputed to me as a crime. Add to this, that what fome detefted in my enemy, notwithstanding his fucceffes, they wish I had put in practíce myself, even at the hazard of reaping no advantage from it. Now think, abiding by my maxims, how much it must have coft me on certain occafions, when, by reasons of state, I have feen myself obliged to retract my word!

I have laid open to you the inmoft receffes of my heart, and you fee the candour of my intentions; but these candid intentions have been far from turning always to good account for me. Muft it not be a vexation when juftice is not done them, and an ill conftruction is put upon my beft manner of conducting myfelf for the good of my people? Yet this confolation is left, that I have nothing to reproach myself with.

The fame cannot be faid in regard to what I am going to tell you. By being a king I have not ceafed to be a man, and I acknowledge in myself many faults. Sometimes my power and felf-love might have made me deviate from the paths of juftice and reason; vain-glory might have made me undertake wars without being fufficiently fenfible of their neceffity, and without foreseeing that,

for fome doubtful advantages gained over my enemies, I expofed my people to the danger of being ruined by inevitable expences. I might have, to ill purposes, fquandered away the public treafure, or at least neglected to manage it with an exact economy. In council, inftead of interrogating truth, and encouraging its answers, I might, bigoted to my own notions, have inflexibly maintained them. In fociety, I might often, through complaifance, have borne with faults worthy of reprehenfion; and through the habit of receiving praifes, I might have been too fenfibly affected by them. It might alfo happen that I have been too inattentive to the conduct of my minifters; that I have often fuffered them to abuse my authority; that, like them, I have been fo weak, as to think that to grow old in an employ was to acquire experience in it; and that, laftly, the pleasure of making perfons happy, cofting me nothing, I have often granted to importunity what I should have only conferred on merit.

Hence it is plain that, on the throne itself, where one is fo conftantly expofed to fo many occafions of being deficient in duty, no perfect happiness can be tafted. When I do good, none have a due fenfe of it; and when I do evil, it is never pardoned in me.

1

Favourite. I have, Sir, the deepeft fenfe of the confidence you have juft now placed in me. I confefs that, among thofe that furround you, feveral will always find fome fault with your virtues, and feveral will be bold enough to applaud even your faults. It is the

bulinefs

bufinefs of your prudence to difcern both, and of your wisdom to defpife all equally.

King. I would gladly follow this laft advice, if, in placing myfelf above all cenfure, I could at the fame time fupprefs the voice of my confcience and reafon. The whole of my condition charms me, the detail of it fills me with horror. Thus your ftate and mine bear a refemblance to one another, notwithstanding their infinite diftance. All men are made to fancy themfelves free, though in a real bondage, because none in any ftation of life can call themfelves perfectly happy. To be able, however, in fome measure, to mitigate my lot, I have only one thing to wifh for, which is, that as my fubjects form with me the fame body politic, there may be between us a kind of democratical and infeparable union, in order to their having as much confidence in my government as I have always had in their zeal and fidelity.

WHEN

On Friendship and Pity. THEN we reflect on the manner in which mankind generally confer their favours, we fhall find that they who seem to want them leaft, are the very perfons who moft liberally fhare them. There is fomething so attractive in riches, that the large heap generally collects from the fmaller; and the poor find as much pleasure in increafing the enormous mafs, as the mifer who owns it fees happinefs in its increase. Nor is there in this any thing repugnant to the laws of true morality. Seneca himfelf allows, that in conferring

benefits, the prefent fhould always be fuited to the dignity of the receiver. Thus the rich receive large prefents, and are thanked for accepting them. Men of middling ftations are obliged to be content with prefents fomething lefs; while the beggar, who may be truly faid to want indeed, is well paid if a farthing rewards his warmeft folicitations.

Every man who has feen the world must know, that to have much, or to feem to have it, is the only way to have more. Thus, when a man has no occafion to borrow, he finds numbers willing to lend him. A certain young fellow at George's, wherever he had occafion to afk his friend for a guinea, ufed to prelude his request as if he wanted two hundred, and talking fo familiarly of large fums, that none could ever think he wanted a small one. The fame gentleman, whenever he wanted credit for a new fuit from his taylor, always made the propofal in laced cloaths; for he found by experience, that if he appeared fhabby on these occafions, Mr. Lynch had taken an oath against trufting, or what was every bit as bad, his foreman was out of the way, and would not be at home these two days.

Pity and Friendship are paffions incompatible with each other, and it is impoffible that both can refide in any breaft for the smallest space without impairing each other. Friendship is made up of esteem and pleafure; Pity is compofed of forrow and contempt; the mind may for fome time fluctuate between them, but it can never entertain both together.

Yet let it not be thought that I

would

would exclude Pity from the hu man mind. There is fcarce any who are not in fome degree poffeffed of this pleating foftnefs; but it is at best but a fhort-lived paffion, and feldom affords diftrefs more than tranfitory affiftance: with fome it scarce lafts from the first impulse till the hand can be put into the pocket; with others it may continue for twice that space; and on fome of extraordinary fenfibility, I have feen it operate for half an hour. In great diftrefs we fometimes, it is true, feel the influence of tenderness strongly; when the fame diftrefs folicits a fecond time, we then feel with diminished fenfibility, but like the repetition of an echo, every new impulfe becomes weaker, till at laft our fenfations lofe every mixture of for Tow, and degenerate into downright contempt.

Jack Spindle and I were old acquaintance; but he is gone. Jack was bred in a compting-houfe, and his father dying juft as he was out of his time, left him an handfome fortune, and many friends to advife him. The reftraint in which he had been brought up, had thrown a gloom upon his temper, which fome regarded as an habitual prudence, and from fuch confiderations he had every day repeated offers of friendship. Thofe who had money were ready to of fer him their affiftance that way; and they who had daughters, frequently in the warmth of affection, advised him to marry. Jack, however, was in good circumftan

ces;

he wanted neither money, friends, nor a wife, and therefore modeftly declined their proposals.

Some errors in the management

of his affairs, and feveral loffes in trade, foon brought Jack to a different way of thinking; and he at laft thought it his best way to let his friends know that their offers were at length acceptable. His firft addrefs was therefore to a fcrivener, who had formerly made him frequent offers of money and friend. fhip.

Jack, therefore, thought he might ufe his old friend without any ceremony, and as a man confident of not being refufed, requested the ufe of an hundred guineas for a few days, as he juft then had an occafion for money. · And

pray, Mr. Spindle,' replied the fcrivener, do you want all this money ?? Want it, Sir!' says the other, If I did not want it, I fhould not have afked it.' 'I

6

am forry for that,' fays the friend: ❝for those who want money when they come to borrow, will want money when they should come to pay. To fay the truth, Mr. 'Spindle, money is money nowa-days. I believe it is all funk in • the bottom of the sea, for my part; and he that has got a little is a fool if he does not keep what ⚫ he has got.'

Not quite difconcerted by this refufal, our adventurer was refolved to apply to another whom he knew to be the very best friend he had in the world. The gentleman whom he now addreffed, received his propofal with all the affability that could be expected from generous friendship. Let

me fee, you want an hundred guineas; and pray, dear Jack, 'would not fifty answer?' It you have but fifty to spare, Sir, 'I must be contented.' < Fifty to

fpare!

fpare! I do not fay that; for I believe I have but twenty about 'me.' Then I must borrow the other thirty from fome other 'friend.' And pray,' replied the friend, would it not be the best way to borrow the whole money from that other friend, and then one note would ferve ' for all, you know. Lord! Mr. • Spindle, make no ceremony with me at any time: you know I am your friend, and when you

choose a bit of dinner or foYou, Tom, fee the gentleman 'down. You won't forget to dine with us now and then. Your very humble fervant.'

Diftreffed, but not difcouraged at this treatment, he was at laft refolved to find that affiftance from love which he could not have from friendship. Mifs Jenny Dif mal had a fortune in her own hands, and fhe had already made all the advances that her fex's modefty would permit. He made his propofal therefore with confidence, but foon perceived no bankrupt ever found the fair one kind. Mifs Jenny and Master Billy Galloon were lately fallen deeply in love with each other, and the whole neighbourhood thought it would foon be a match.

Every day now began to ftrip Jack of his former finery; his cloaths flew piece by piece to the pawn-broker's; and he feemed at length equipped in the genuine mourning of antiquity. But ftill he thought himself fecure from ftarving, the numberless invitations he had received to dine, even after his loffes, were yet unanfwered; he was therefore now refolved to accept of a dinner,, be

caufe he wanted one; and in this manner he actually lived among his friends a whole week without being openly affronted. The laft place I faw poor Jack at was the Rev. Dr. Gofling's; he had, as he fancied, juft nicked the time, for he came in as the cloth was laying. He took a chair without being defired, and talked for fome time without being attended to. He affured the company that nothing procured fo good an appetite as a walk to White Conduit-house, where he had been that morning. He looked at the table cloth, and praised the figure of the damafk: talked of a feaft where he had been the day before, but that the venifon was over done. All this, however, procured the poor creature no invitation, and he was not yet fufficiently hardened to stay without being asked; wherefore, finding the gentleman of the house infenfible to all his fetches, he thought proper, at laft, to retire, and mend his appetite by a walk in the Park.

You then, O ye beggars of my acquaintance, whether in rags or lace; whether in Kent-ftreet or the Mall; whether at the Smyrna or St. Giles's; might I advise as a friend, never feem in want of the favour which you folicit: apply to every paffion, but Pity, for redrefs. You may find relief from vanity, from felf-intereft, or even from avarice, but feldom from compaffion. The very eloquence of a poor man is difgufting. If then you would ward off the gripe of Poverty, pretend to be a ftranger to her, and fhe will at least use you with ceremony. Hear not my advice, but that of Offellus. If

you