Hogue, 1692.]

[Footnote 111: Probably Lord Halifax.]

[Footnote 112: Thomas, Earl of Wharton, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland.]

[Footnote 113: "Advertisement.--Upon the humble petition of Running
Stationers, &c., this paper maybe had of them, for the future, at the
price of one penny" (folio). The first four numbers were distributed
gratuitously.]

No. 5. [STEELE.

From _Tuesday, April 19_, to _Thursday, April 21_, 1709.

* * * * *

White's Chocolate-house, April 20.

_Who names that lost thing, love, without a tear,
Since so debauched by ill-bred customs here,
To an exact perfection they have brought
The action, love, the passion is forgot._

This was long ago a witty author's lamentation, but the evil still
continues; and if a man of any delicacy were to attend the discourses of
the young fellows of this age, they would believe there were none but
prostitutes to make the objects of passion. So true it is what the
author of the above verses said, a little before his death, of the
modern pretenders to gallantry: "They set up for wits in this age, by
saying when they are sober, what they of the last spoke only when they
were drunk." But Cupid is not only blind at present, but dead-drunk, he
has lost all his faculties: else how should Celia be so long a maid with
that agreeable behaviour? Corinna, with that uprightly wit? Lesbia, with
that heavenly voice? And Sacharissa, with all those excellences in one
person, frequent the park, the play, and murder the poor tits that drag
her to public places, and not a man turn pale at her appearance? But
such is the fallen state of love, that if it were not for honest
Cynthio,[114] who is true to the cause, we should hardly have a pattern
left of the ancient worthies that way: and indeed he has but very little
encouragement to persevere; but he has a devotion, rather than love, for
his mistress; and says,

Only tell her that I love,
Leave the rest to her, and Fate;
Some kind planet from above,
May, perhaps, her passsion move:
Lovers on their stars must wait.[115]

But the stars I am so intimately acquainted with, that I can assure him,
he will never have her: for would you believe it, though Cynthio has
wit, good sense, fortune, and his very being depends on her, the
termagant for whom he sighs, is in love with a fellow, who stares in the
glass all the time he is with her, and lets her plainly