Amusements serious and comical, calculated for the meridian of London by Mr. Brown.

The City Circle.

WHICH is a Familiar Assembly, or a General Council of the Fair and Charming-Sex, where all the Important Affairs of their Neighbors are largely discuss'd, but Judged in an Arbitrary Manner, without hearing the Parties speak for themselves. No∣thing comes amiss to these Tribunals. Matters of High, and no Consequence, as Religion, and Cuckoldom, Com∣modes and Sermons, Polliticks and Gallantry, Receipts of Cookery and Scandal, Coquettry and Preserving, Jilting and Laundry; in short every thing is subject to the Jurisdiction of this Court, and no Appeal lies from it.

A Venerable Old Gentlewoman, call'd Madam Whimsey, whose Relati∣ons are dispersed into all Corners of the Earth, is President of this Board. She is Lineally Descended from the Maggots of the South, an Illustrious and Ancient Family, that were a Branch of the Wag-Tails of the East, who boast themselves Descended in a Right Line from Madam Eve. Here are to be found as many Different Opinions as there are Heads in the Room. The same Judge is sometimes Severe, and sometimes Indulgent, sometimes Grave and sometimes Trifling, and they Talk exactly there, as I do in my A∣musements.

They pass in a Moment from the most Serious, to the most Comical Strain; from the greatest things to the smallest; from a Duke, to a Chim∣ney-Sweeper; from a Council of War to a Christning, and sometimes a sud∣den Reflexion upon a Womans Head-Dress, hinders the Decision of a Case of Conscience under Examination.

In this Country Twenty several Sentences are pronounced all at once. The Men Vote when they can, the Women as often as they please. They have two Votes for one. The great

Liberty that is allowed in the City Circle, invites all sorts of Persons to come thither to see and to be seen. Every one talks according to his De∣signs, his Inclination, and his Genius. The Young Folks talk of what they are now a doing; the Old Fellows Talk of what they have done in the Days of Queen Dick; and your Sots and Coxcombs of what they have a design to do, tho' they never go a∣bout it.

The Ambitious Rail at the Slug∣gards as a Company of Idle Fellows that take up a room in the World, and do nothing? The Sluggards return back the Compliment to the Ambiti∣ous, that they trouble all the World with their Plots to advance themselves and ruine others. The Tradesman Curses War from the bottom of his Heart, as that which spoils Commerce, Depopulates Countries, and destroys Mankind; and the Soldier wishes those that had a Hand in making the Peace, were at the Devil.

The Vertuoso despises the Rich for making such a bustle about so Foolish and Pale-faced a Mettal as Gold. The Rich laugh at Learning, and Learned Men, and cry, A fig for Aristotle

and Des Cartes. Your Men of Gravi∣ty and Wisdom forsooth, rail at Love as the most Foolish and Impertinent Tri∣fling thing in the World; and the Lover fattens himself with his own Fancies, and laughs at Wisdom as a Sower and Severe thing that is not worth the Pur∣suit. Those that are Unmarried fall foul upon the Jealous-Pated Hus∣bands, as Men that create their own Troubles. And those that are Marri∣ed justify their own Prudent Conduct in endeavouring to prevent their own Dishonour.

A Young forward Puppy full of Vigour and Health, seem'd to inti∣mate by his Discourse, that he thought himself Immortal. Well, says he, I have drank my Gallon of Claret eve∣ry Night this Seven Years, and yet the Devil of a Feaver or any other Di∣sease dares Attack me, tho' I always keep two or three Sins going at once. Before George I think our Family's made of Iron. There's that Old Prig my Father (a Plague on him) turn'd of Seventy, and yet he's as sound as a Roach still. He'll ride you Forty Mile out-right at a Fox-Chase. Small-Beer be my Portion here and hereafter, if I believe he'll ever have the Good Man∣ners to troop off.

A Grave Old Gentleman offended at this Rude and Frothy Discourse gave his Whiskers a Twirl, and thus repremanded our Saucy Whipper-Snapper. Know Boy, cries he to him in an Angry Tone: Know, Sirrah, that every Age stands upon the same Level as to the Duration of Life. A Man of Fourscore is Young enough to Live, and an Infant but of Four Days Birth, is Old enough to Die.

I apprehend your Meaning, Old Gentleman, says our Young Prig to him, well enough. You are Young enough to Live to Day, and Old e∣nough to Die to Morrow.

Those whom you have hitherto heard, talk'd only to let the Compa∣ny see what they were: The rest both in their Conversation and Manners, appear'd directly contrary to what they were.

You admire the Gay Noisy Im∣pertinence of that Country Wit yon∣der, that tells of many Pleasant Sto∣ries, and sets all the Company a Laughing. Don't be mistaken in him, he's the Dullest Rogue alive, if you strip him of what he has Plunder'd from others.

All his Jests and Repartees he Pur∣loin'd from his Fathers Chaplain; they are the effect of his Memory, and not of his Invention.

That other Spark there sets up for a Wit, and has some Sence to't. Pray mind that Worshipful Lump of Clay, that Inanimate Figure that lolls in the Elbow-Chair; he takes no manner of Notice of what is said in the Compa∣ny. By his Plodding Starch'd Solemn Looks, you would conclude that Busi∣ness of Importance, and Affairs of State, took up all his Thoughts, and that his Head was brim full of Dis∣patches, Negotiations, Decrees, Or∣ders of Council, and the Lord knows what. I'll tell you what; he's the Emptiest, Dullest, Shallowest Mon∣ster, within the Bills of Mortality. He's equally incapable of Business and Pleasure: He'll take you a Nap over a Game at Cards, and Yawn and Stretch at the most diverting Comedy: Nay, under the Pulpit when the Par∣son has Preach'd all the Dogs out o'th' Church. He Dreams as he Walks, and the Sot when he's a Sleep, differs from the Sot when Waking, as a Nine-Pin when it is up, differs from a Nine-Pin when its down. He has a

Considerable Post in the Government, and a Pretty Wife, and minds them both alike? 'Tis pity he has not a Deputy to officiate for him.

That Young Creature there by the Window, at the bare mention of the Word Love, Starts, and Trembles, as if a Demi-Culvirin were shot off at her Ear. Her Vertuous Mother has told her such terrible Stories about it, that the Poor Fool believes she hates it. And do you think, Sir, she'll hate it to the end of the Chapter? That's not so certain, I dare not engage for it. A Woman that hates Love before she knows what it is, is not in danger to hate it very long.

Perhaps I explain things after a Freer manner than I ought, and Un∣mask too many Faces in my Circle; but if I were never so much inclined to spare them, and they themselves had Address enough to conceal their own Defects: I see a Lady of great Penetration coming into the Room, who will decipher them more Unmerci∣fully than I can.

Now she has Seated her self. Ob∣serve what a Modest Air she has? How Critically she draws off her Gloves? How Artfully she manages her Fan?

And if she lift up her Eyes, 'tis only to see whether other Women are as Handsome and as Modest as her self. She has so much Vertue the World says, that she can't endure any that have a less share on't than her self. What is harder still, those that have more Vertue than she, do equally dis∣please her. 'Tis for this reason she spares no Body.

I ask'd a Lady of the same Chara∣cter t'other Day, how it came to pass that her Exhortations were half God∣liness, and half Slander? Bless me, crys she, Slander! What mean you by the Word? 'Tis enough to give one the Spleen, or an Augue Fit. The Truth on't is, I am sometimes obli∣ged to accommodate my self to the Taste of the World, to Season my Re∣monstrances with a little Satyr, for the World expects we should make every thing agreeable, even Conne∣ction it self. We must sometimes give a little Slip from Morality, to bring in a few Strokes of Satyr. Speak more Honestly, Madam, says I to her, and confess that you bring in one stroke of Morality, to countenance the making of a Thousand Scandalous Reflexions.

Very well, replies the Indian to me, I find the Londoners are as Comical in their Garbs, as affected in their Discour∣ses. They would think themselves disho∣nour'd to appear in a Suit they wore last Year. According to the Rule of Fashions, this Furious Beau the next Year must make but a Scurvy Figure; but I par∣don them for following the Custom of their Country. I put so ill a Constru∣ction upon their Curiosity, I will not hereafter Judge of the Hearts of Wo∣men by the Steps I see them make.

As for that Beau yonder, I have a great Curiosity to know whither his Inside answers his Outside. Not a Word has drop'd from him as yet; but surely the Oracle will open Anon. The Ladies that encompass him, said I to my Curious Traveller, are as im∣patient to hear him Talk, as you can be. Therefore let us listen.

They all Compliment, and address their Discourses to him. What An∣swers does he make them? Sometimes Yes, and sometimes No, and some∣times Nothing at all. He speaks to one with his Eyes, to another with his Head, and Laughs at a third with so Mysterious an Air, that 'tis believed there is something extraordinary meant

by it. All the Company are of Opi∣nion that he has Wit in abundance. His Physiognomy Talks, his Air Per∣swades, but all his Eloquence lies in the Fine Outside he makes; and as soon as the Spark has shew'd himself, he has concluded his speech. 'Tis a thou∣sand pitties that Nature had not time enough to finish her Workmanship▪ Had she bestowed never so little Wit upon an Outside so Prepossessing us in his Favour, the Idlest Tales from his Mouth wou'd have pass'd for the most Ingenious Story in the World.

But our Ladies now begin to be weary of holding a longer Discourse with their Idol, All of 'em resolv'd, if they must speak, to speak with some Body that would answer them again, and not with a Statue. Our Beau re∣tires into the next Chamber, intent upon nothing but how to display his Charms to the best advantage. He is at first view enamour'd with a Pretty Lady whom he saw in the Room. He Besieges her with his Eyes, he Ogles at her, he Prims and Plumes himself, and at last he Boards her.

This Lady is very Reserved, and tho' our Gentleman appear very Charming to her, yet she is not sur∣prized

at the first sight of him. 'Tis nothing but her Curiosity which makes her hazard meeting him in the Field. With this Intention she listens to what our Adventurer has to say to her. In short, this was the success of his Af∣fair with her.

He found himself mightily at a loss how to Cope with this Lady. She had an inexhaustible Source of Wit, and would not be paid with Gracious Nods and Smiles, but as we see there are a Hundred Witty Women in the World, that are not displeas'd with a fair Out∣side; our Confident Spark flatter'd himself, that if he cou'd but once per∣swade the Lady that he was in Love with her, the Garrison wou'd imme∣diately surrender. To effect this he employ'd the Finest Turns of Elo∣quence, and the most touching Ex∣pressions of the Mute Language; but this Fair Lady made as if she did not understand him. What should he now do to explain himself more clearly to her. He had a Diamond-Ring of a considerable Value upon his Finger, and found himself put to't to contrive a Piece of Gallantry A la Mode, to present it to her. Thus Playing with his Hand, and holding it so that he

might shew his Diamond more advan∣tageously to the Eyes of the Fair In∣different, he plays with it: She turns her Head, first on one side, then on the other side. This Unconcernedness mortified him extreamly; yet still he kept on his Shew, which is always the last Refuge of a Coxcomb. He is A∣stonish'd to find a Woman insensible to such a Beau as himself, and to such a Diamond as his was; but this made no Impression on the Lady, who still con∣tinued Inexorable and Cruel.

At the very Moment he despair'd of his Enterprize, this Cruel, this Insensible seiz'd him hastily by the Hand, to look nearer at the Diamond, from which she first turn'd her Eyes: What a Blessed turn of the Scene was this to a Dejected Lover! He reas∣sumes his Courage, and to make a De∣claration of his Passion for once and all, he takes the Ring from his Finger, and after a Thousand Cringes and Gri∣maces, Presents her with it. The Lady takes it in her Hand, and holds it close to her Eyes, to view it more careful∣ly: He redoubles his Hope and Assu∣rance, and thought he had a Right to Kiss that Hand, that had received his Diamond. The Lady was so taken up

in looking at it, that she was not at leisure to think of being angry at this Freedom; but on the contrary smiled, and without any more Ceremony put the Ring upon her Finger.

Now it is that our Lover thinks himself secure of Victory, and tran∣sported with Joy, proposes the Hour and Place of Meeting. Sir, says this Lady coldly to him, I am Charm'd with this Diamond; and the reason why I have accepted it without Scru∣ple, is because it belongs to me. Yes, Sir, this Diamond is mine; my Hus∣band took it from off my Toilet some Three Months ago, and made me af∣terwards believe he had lost it. That cannot be, replys our Fop, it was a Marchioness that exchang'd it with me for something that shall be Name∣less.

Right, right, continues the Woman, my Husband was acquainted with this Marchioness, he Truck'd with her for my Diamond, the Marchioness Truck'd with you for it, and I take it for nothing; tho if I were of a Revengeful Nature, my Husband very well deserves, that I should give the same Price for it, as he received from the Marchioness. At this unexpected Blow, our Fine Thing

stood Confounded and Astonish'd; but I can now forgive his being Mute up∣on so Odd an Occasion. A Man of Wit and Sence could hardly avoid it.

That Great Lord yonder, was Bred and Born a Lord: His Soul is full as Noble as his Blood, his Thoughts as high as his Extraction. I Esteem, but don't Admire his Lordship; but the Man, who by his Merits and Vertues raises himself above his Birth and E∣ducation, I both Esteem and Admire.

Why then should you, whose Vir∣tues equal your Fortune, conceal the Meanness of your Original, which raises the Lustre of your Merit? And as for you that have no other Merit to boast of, but that of advancing your Fortune; never be ashamed to own the Meanness of your former Life: We shall better esteem the Merit of your Elevation.

Look, yonder goes a Man, says one, that takes upon him so much of the Lord, that one would think he had never been any thing else. It of∣ten happens, that by our Over-acting of Matters, the World discovers we were not always the Men we ap∣pear.

While I made my Reflections, my Indian was likewise busie in making his. He did not so much wonder at the Man in the Embroidered Coat, who did not know himself, as at the Assembly, who likewise seem'd not to know him. He was treated with the Respect due to a Prince; these are not Civilities, but downright A∣dorations. What cannot you be con∣tent, says our Indian, cannot you be content to Idolize Riches that are use∣ful to you? Must you likewise Ido∣lize the Rich, who will never do you a Farthings-worth of Kindness?

I confess, continued he, that I can∣not recover out of this Astonishment. I see another Man of a very good Look come into the Circle, and no body takes the least Notice of him. He has seated himself and Talks, and very much to the purpose too, and yet no one will vouchsafe him a Hearing. I observe, the Company Files off from him by degrees, to a∣nother part of the Room, and now he is lest alone by himself. Where∣fore say I to my self, Do they shun him thus? Is his Breath Contagious, or has he a Plague-Sore running upon him?

At the same time I took Notice, That these Deserters had flock'd a∣bout the Gay Coxcomb in the laced Suite, whom they worshipp'd like a little God. By this I came to un∣derstand, that the Contagious Di∣stemper the other Man was troubled with was his Poverty.

Oh Heavens! says the Indian, fal∣ling all on the sudden into an Enthu∣siastick Fit, like that wherein you saw him in his Letter; Oh Heavens! Remove me quickly out of a Coun∣try, where they shut their Ears to the wholsom Advice, and sage In∣structions of a Poor Man, to lissen to the Nonsensical Chat of a Sot in Gawdy Cloathes. They seem to re∣fuse this Philosopher a Place among Men, because his Apparel is but in∣different, while they Rank that Weal∣thy Coxcomb in the Number of the Gods. When I behold this Abomi∣nable Sight, I cou'd almost pardon those that grow Haughty and Inso∣lent upon Prosperity. This latter Spark a little while ago was less than a Man among you, at present you make a sort of a Deity of him. If the Head of their new Idol should grow Giddy, he may e'en thank those

who Incense him at this abominable Rate.

There are among us in my Coun∣try, continues he, a sort of People who Adore a certain Bird, for the Beauty and Richness of its Feathers. To justifie the Folly wherein their Eyes have engaged them, they are perswaded that this proud Animal has a Divine Spirit that Animates him. Their Error is infinitely more excu∣sable than yours; for in short, this Creature is Mute, but if he could Talk, like your Brute there in the Rich Embroidery, they would soon find him out to be a Beast, and per∣haps would forbear to Adore him.

This sudden Transport, carry'd our well-meaning Traveller a little too far. To oblige him to drop his Discourse, I desir'd him to cast his Eyes upon a certain Gentleman in the Circle, who deserved to have his Veil taken off with which he covered himself, to procure the Confidence of Fools. Examine well this serious Ex∣travagant. The Fool's Bawble he makes such a pother with, is his Probity, an amiable thing indeed, if his Heart were affected by it; but 'tis only the Notion of it that has Fly-blown his

Head. Because, forsooth, it has not yet appear'd in his Story, that he is a Notorious Cheat and Falsifier, up∣on the Merit of this Reputation, the Insect thinks himself the most Virtu∣ous Man in the World. He demands an Implicite Faith to all he says. You must not question any thing he is pleas'd to affirm, but must pay the same Deference to his Words, as to the Sacred Oracles of Truth it self. If he thinks fit to assert that Romulus and Remus were Grand Children to Iohn of Gaunt, 'tis a Breach of Good Manners to enquire into their Pedi∣grees.

If any Difference happens, he pre∣tends his Word is a Decree, from which you cannot Appeal without Injustice. He takes it for a high Af∣front, if you do but ask him to give you the common Security. All the Universe must understand that his Verbal Promise is worth a thousand Pounds. He would fain have per∣swaded his Wifes Relations to have given him her in Marriage upon his bare Word, without making a Settle∣ment. He affects to be exactly Nice to a Tittle in all his Expressions, and if you think it impossible to find a

Model of this impracticable Exactness, he tells you that you may find it in him, all his Words you ought to be∣lieve to a Hairs breadth: Nothing less, and nothing beyond it. If ever he gives you liberty to Stretch a little, it must be in his Commendation. Let the Conversation turn upon what Subject it pleases, be it of War, or of Religion, Morality, or Politicks, he will perpetually thrust his Nose into it, though he is sure to be laughed at for his Pains, and all to make a fine Parade of his own good Quali∣ties and Vertues.

A certain Lady for Instance, after she had effectually proved that all Gallantry, and Sincerity, was extinct among the young Fellows of this Age, corrected her self pleasantly in this manner. I am in the wrong Gentle∣men, says she, I am in the wrong, I own it. There is such a thing as Sincerity still among the Men: They speak all that they think of us Women.

Upon the bare Mention of the Word Sincerity, our Gentleman thought he had a fair opportunity to enlarge upon his own. Every Man,

says he, has his particular Faults My Fault is to be too Sincere.

Soon after this, the Discourse fell upon other Matters, as want of Com∣passion and Charity in the Rich. What an excess of Barbarity crys our Man of Honour, is this? For my part, I always fall into the op∣posite Extream. I melt at every thing, I am too Good in my Temper, but 'tis a Fault I shall never Correct in my self. To make short, another who towards the Conclusion of his Story, happen'd accidentally to let the Word Avarice drop from him, found himself interrupted by our Modest Gentleman, who made no dif∣ficulty to own that Liberality was his Vice. Ah Sir, replied the Man cold∣ly, who was interrupted, you have three great Vices, Sincerity, Good∣ness, and Liberality. This excess of Modesty in you, which makes you own these Vices, give me to under∣stand Sir, that you are Masters of all the contrary Vertues.

In my Opinion now, this was plucking off the Vizor of our Sir Formal. This was discharging a Pi∣stol at his Breast: One would have

thought it wou'd have went to the very Heart of him. In the mean time he did not so much as feel the Blow; the Callus of his Vanity had made him invulnerable, he takes every thing you say to him in good part. Call him in an Ironical man∣ner, the Great Heroe of Probity, he takes you in the Litteral Sense. Tell him in the plain Language of T. O. that he's a confounded Rascal, Oh Sir, says he, your humble Servant, you are disposed to be merry I find: thus he takes it for Raillery.

These Raillers have a fine time on't you see, to Iest upon a Man of so Oily a Temper. What a Vexation is it to your Gentlemen that speak sharp and witty Things, to level them at so supple a Slave. All the Pleasure wou'd be to touch him to the Quick, to confound his Vanity. Wit does but hazard it self by At∣tacking him in the Face, there's no∣thing to be got by it: Vanity is a Wall of Brass.

But I find nothing will be lost. There sits a Gentleman in the corner of a quite different Temper, who takes every thing upon himself, that

was meant to another. He Blushes, he grows Pale, he's out of Counte∣nance; at last quits the Room, and as he goes out, threatens all the Com∣pany with his Eyes. What does the World think of this holding up the Buckler, they put but a bad Constru∣ction upon it, and say that his Con∣science is Ulcerated, that you cannot touch any String, but it will answer to some painful place. Touch a Gall'd Horse and He'll Wince. In a word, he's wounded all over, because he's all over Sensible of Pain.

These are two Characters that seem to be directly opposite; how∣ever, it were easie to prove that these two are the same at Bottom. What's this Bottom? Divine it if you can: One Word wou'd not be sufficient to explain it clearly to you, and I am not at leisure to give you any more. I perceive a Man coming into the Room whom I am acquainted with, he will interrupt me without Re∣morse. I had better be beforehand with him, and hold my Tongue.

Silence Gentlemen, Silence, and see you shew due Respect. You will immediately see one of those

Noble Lords who believe that all is due to them, and that they owe no∣thing to any Body. When my Lord enter'd, every one put on a demure Look, and he himself came in with a Smiling look, like a true Polititian. Immediately he makes a thousand Protestations of Friendship to every one; but at the same time that he promises you his Service, he looks as Pale as a Scotchman, when he of∣fers you his Purse.

He is scarce sate down in his Chair, but he embroiles the Conversati∣on. He talks to four several Persons about four several Affairs at once: He puts a Question to one Man, with∣out waiting for an Answer of ano∣ther: He proposes a Doubt, Treats it, and resolves it all by himself. He's not weary of Talking, though all the Company be of hearing him. They steal off by degrees, and so the Circle ended.

The Publick is a great Spectacle always New, which presents it self to the Eyes of private Men, and A∣muses them. These private Men are so many diversified Spectacles, that offer themselves to the Publick View,

and Divert it. I have already as it were in Minature, shew'd some few of these small inconsiderable private Spectacles. My Fellow Traveller not content with this, still demands of me, that I should speak a few Words more of the Publick.