for if you are silent, or
hesitate, or evade, it will be held equivalent to a confession. But
stay, Sir; here is another case. Supposing the authour had told me
confidentially that he had written _Junius_, and I were asked if he had,
I should hold myself at liberty to deny it, as being under a previous
promise, express or implied, to conceal it. Now what I ought to do for
the authour, may I not do for myself? But I deny the lawfulness of
telling a lie to a sick man for fear of alarming him. You have no
business with consequences; you are to tell the truth. Besides, you are
not sure what effect your telling him that he is in danger may have. It
may bring his distemper to a crisis, and that may cure him. Of all
lying, I have the greatest abhorrence of this, because I believe it has
been frequently practised on myself.'

I cannot help thinking that there is much weight in the opinion of those
who have held, that Truth, as an eternal and immutable principle, ought,
upon no account whatever, to be violated, from supposed previous or
superiour obligations, of which every man being to judge for himself,
there is great danger that we too often, from partial motives, persuade
ourselves that they exist; and probably whatever extraordinary instances
may sometimes occur, where some evil may be prevented by violating this
noble principle, it would be found that human happiness would, upon the
whole, be more perfect were Truth universally preserved.

In the notes to the _Dunciad_[937], we find the following verses,
addressed to Pope[938]:--

'While malice, Pope, denies thy page
Its own celestial fire;
While criticks, and while bards in rage
Admiring, won't admire:

While wayward pens thy worth assail,
And envious tongues decry;
These times, though many a friend bewail,
These times bewail not I.

But when the world's loud praise is thine,
And spleen no more shall blame;
When with thy Homer thou shalt shine
In one establish'd fame!

When none shall rail, and every lay
Devote a wreath to thee:
That day (for come it will) that day
Shall I lament to see.'

It is surely not a little remarkable, that they should appear without a
name. Miss Seward[939], knowing Dr. Johnson's almost universal and
minute literary information, signified a desire that I should ask him
who was the authour. He was prompt with his answer: 'Wh