so much wit, such extreme civility, and writes such a
gentlemanlike style, should prefix my name to writings in which there
appears so little solidity and no knowledge of the Arabian philosophy.
If this paper should be transmitted to posterity (as, perhaps, it might
have been by the authority of the name it wears in the front) it might
have been a lasting reflection upon me to the end of the world.... Till
seeing four volumes of writings--the collected edition of the
_Tatler_--pretended to be mine, and a serious philosopher's name
prefixed to papers as free from my solidity as they are full of wit, I
thought it high time to vindicate myself, and give the world a taste of
my writings; for I am now persuaded 'twill be more for my reputation to
convince than to despise mankind."]

No. 2. [STEELE.

From _Tuesday, April 12_, to _Thursday, April 14_, 1709.

* * * * *

Will's Coffee-house, April 13.

There has lain all this evening, on the table, the following poem. The
subject of it being matter very useful for families, I thought it
deserved to be considered, and made more public. The turn the poet[81]
gives it is very happy; but the foundation is from a real accident
which happened among my acquaintance.[82] A young gentleman of a great
estate fell desperately in love with a great beauty of very high
quality, but as ill-natured as long flattery and an habitual self-will
could make her. However, my young spark ventures upon her, like a man of
quality, without being acquainted with her, or having ever saluted her,
till it was a crime to kiss any woman else. Beauty is a thing which
palls with possession; and the charms of this lady soon wanted the
support of good humour and complaisancy of manners. Upon this my spark
flies to the bottle for relief from his satiety. She disdains him for
being tired with that for which all men envied him; and he never came
home, but it was: "Was there no sot that would stay longer? Would any
man living but you? Did I leave all the world for this usage?" To which
he: "Madam, split me, you are very impertinent!" In a word, this match
was wedlock in its most terrible appearances. She, at last weary of
railing to no purpose, applies to a good uncle, who gives her a bottle
of water. "The virtue of this powerful liquor," said he, "is such, that
if the woman you marry proves a scold (which, it seems, my dear niece,
is your misfortune, as it was your good moth