As the Stoic philofophers discard all paffions in ge

neral, they will not allow a wife man fo much as to pity the afflictions of another. If thou feest thy friend in trouble, fays Epictetus, thou mayeft put on a look of forrow, and condole with him, but take care that thy forrow be not real. The more rigid of this fect would not comply fo far as to fhew even fuch an outward appearance of grief, but when one told them of any calamity that had befallen even the nearest of their acquaintance, would immediately reply, What is that to me? If you aggravated the circumftances of the affliction, and fhewed how one misfortune was followed by another, the answer was ftill, All this may be true, but what is it to me?

For my own part, I am of opinion, compaffion does not only refine and civilize human nature, but has something in it more pleafing and agreeable than what can be met with in fuch an indolent happinefs, fuch an indifference to mankind as that in which the Stoics placed their wisdom. As love is the most delightful paffion, pity is nothing else but love foftened by a degree of forrow in fhort, it is a kind of pleafing anguish, as well as generous fympathy, that knits mankind together, and blends them in the fame common lot.

Thofe who have laid down rules for rhetoric or poetry, advise the writer to work himself up, if poffible, to the pitch of forrow which he endeavours to produce in others. There are none therefore who ftir up pity fo much as thofe who indite their own fufferings. Grief has a natural eloquence belonging to it, and breaks out in more

moving fentiments than can be fupplied by the fireft imagination. Nature on this occafion dictates a thousand paffionate things which cannot be fupplied by art.

It is for this reafon that the fhort fpeeches or fentences which we often meet with in hiftories, make a deeper impreffion on the mind of the reader, than the most laboured strokes of a well-written tragedy. Truth and matter of fact fets the perfon actually before us in the one, whom fiction places at a greater diftance from us in the other. I do not remember to have feen any ancient or modern ftory more affecting than a letter of Ann of Boleyn, wife to king Henry the eighth, and mother to queen Elizabeth, which is ftill extant in the Cotton library, as written by her own hand.

Shakespeare himself could not have made her talk in a ftrain fo fuitable to her condition and character. One. fees in it the expoftulations of a flighted lover, the refentments of an injured woman, and the forrows of an imprifoned queen. I need not acquaint my reader that this princefs was then under profecution for difloyalty to the king's bed, and that she was afterwards publicly beheaded upon the fame account, tho' this profecution was believed by many to proceed, as fhe herfelf intimates,. rather from the king's love to Jane Seymour, than from, any actual crime in Ann of Boleyn.

Queen Ann Beleyn's laft letter to King Henry,

Cotton Lib.

< SIR,

YOUR grace's di pleafure, ard my im-Otho C. 10. priforment are things fo ftrange unto me, as what to write, or what to excufe, I am altogether ignorant. Whereas you ferd unto me, (willing me to confefs a truth, and fo obtain your favour) by fuch an one, whom you know to be mine ancient profeffed enemy, I ro fooner received this meffage by him, than 'rightly conceived your mearing; and, if, as you fay, confeffing a truth indeed may procure my fafety, fhall with all willingness and duty perform " your command.

But let not your grace ever imagine, that your poor ⚫ wife will ever be brought to acknowledge a, fault,

where not fo much as a thought thereof preceded. And to fpeak a truth, never prince had wife more loyal in all duty, and in all true affection, than you have ever found in Ann Boleyn : with which name and place I could willingly have contented myfelf, if God and your grace's pleasure had been fo pleafed. Neither did I at any time fo far forget myself in my exaltation or received queenfhip, but that I always looked for fuch an alteration as I now find; for the ground of my preferment being on no furer foundation than your grace's fancy, the leaft alteration I knew was fit and fufficient to draw that fancy to fome other fubje&t. You have chofen me from a low eftate to be your < queen and companion, far beyond my defert or defire. If then you found me worthy of fuch honour, good your grace let not any light fancy, or bad counfel of mine enemies, withdraw your princely favour from me; neither let that stain, that unworthy ftain, of a. difloyal heart towards your good grace, ever caft fo foul a blot on your most dutiful wife, and the infantprincess your daughter. Try me, good king, but let me have a lawful trial, and let not my fworn enemies fit as my accufers and judges; yea let me receive an open trial, for my truth fhall fear no open fhame; then fhall you fee either mine innocence cleared, your fufpicion and confcience fatisfied, the ignominy and flander of the world ftopped, or my guilt openly declared. So that whatfoever God or you may determine of me, your grace may be freed from an open cenfure, and mine offence being fo lawfully proved, your grace

6

is at liberty, both before God and man, not only to execute worthy punishment on me as an unlawful wife, but to follow your affection, already fettled on that party, for whofe fake I am now as I am, whofe name I could ⚫ fome good while fince have pointed unto, your grace not being ignorant of my fufpicion therein.

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6 But if you have already determined of me, and that not only my death, but an infamous flander must bring you the enjoying of your defired happinefs, then I defire of God, that he will pardon your great fin therein, and likewife mine enemies, the inftruments thereof, and that he will not call you to a ftrift account for

your unprincely and cruel ufage of me, at his general judgment-feat, where both you and myself muft shortly appear, and in whofe judgment I doubt not (whatfoever the world may think of me) mine innocence fhall be openly known, and fufficiently cleared..

My last and only request fhall be, that myself may only bear the burden of your grace's difpleasure, and that it may not touch the innocent fouls of thofe poor gentlemen, who (as I understand) are likewise in ftraït imprisonment for my fake. If ever I have found favour in your fight, if ever the name of Ann Boleyn hath been pleafing in your ears, then let me obtain. this requeft, and I will fo leave to trouble your grace any further, with mine earneft prayers to the Trinity to have your grace in his good keeping, and to direct you in all your actions. From my doleful prifon in the Tower, this fixth of May; Your most loyal

With art and wisdom, and be mad by rule.

CREECH.

CYNTHIO and Flavia are perfons of diftinction

in this town, who have been lovers thefe ten month's laft paft, and writ to each other for galiantry fake, under thofe feigned names; Mr. Such-a-one and Mrs. Such-a one not being capable of raifing the foul out of the ordinary tracts and paffages of life, up to that elevation which makes the life of the enamoured fox much fuperior to that of the reft. of the world. But

17 ever fince the beauteous Cecilia has made fuch a figure as she now does in the circle of charming women, Cynthio has been fecretly one of her adorers. Cecilia has been the finest woman in town thefe three months, ard fo long Cynthio has acted the part of a lover very aukwardly in the prefence of Flavia. Flavia has been too blind towards him, and has too fircere an heart of her own to obferve a thousand things which would have difcovered this change of mind to any one lefs engaged than fhe was. Cynthio was mufing yesterday in the piazza in Covent-Garden, and was faying to himfelf that he was a very ill man to go on in vifiting and profeffing love to Flavia, when his heart was inthralled to another. It is an ir firmity that I am not conftant to Flavia; but it would be still a greater crime, fince I cannot continue to love her, to profefs that I do. To marry a woman ⚫ with the coldnefs that ufually indeed comes on after marriage, is ruining one's felf with one's eyes open; befides it is really doing her an injury.' This laft confideration, forfooth, of injuring her in perfifting, made him refolve to break off upon the first favourable opportunity of making her angry. When he was in this thought, he faw Robin the porter, who waits at Will's coffee-house, paffing by. Robin, you must know, is the best man in town for carrying a billet; the fellow has a thin body, swift ftep, demure looks, fufficient fenfe, and knows the town. This man carried Cynthio's firft letter to Flavia, and by frequent errands ever fince, is well known to her. The fellow covers his knowledge of the nature of his meffages with the most exquifite low humour imaginable: the first he obliged Flavia to take, was by complaining to her that he had a wife and three children, and if the did not take that letter, which he was fure, there was no harm in, but rather love, his family muft go fupperlefs to bed, for the gentleman would pay him according as he did his business. Robin therefore Cynthio now thought fit to make ufe of, and gave him orders to wait before Flavia's door, and if the called him to her, and asked whether it was Cynthio who paffed by, he fhould at first be loth to own it was, but upon importunity confefs it. There needed not much fearch into that part of the town to find a well-dreffed huffy fit for