Knight of the Red Cross, to an oak with ivy about it, and to a great man with an equipage." I think myself as much honoured by being joined in this part of his paper with the gentleman whom he here calls my brother, as I am in the beginning of it, by being mentioned with Horace and Virgil.

It is very hard that a man cannot publish ten papers without stealing from himself; but to show you that this is only a knack of writing, and that the author is got into a ce tain road of criticism, I shall set down his remarks on the works of the gentleman whom he here glances upon, as they stand in his sixth Paper, and desire the reader to compare them with the foregoing passage upon mine.

"In thirty lines his patron is a river, the primum mobile, a pilot, a victim, the sun, any thing, and nothing. He bestows increase, conceals his source, makes the machine move, teaches to steer, expiates our offences, raises vapours, and looks larger as he sets."

What poem can be safe from this sort of criticism? I think I was never in my life so much offended, as at a wag whom I once met with in a coffee-house. He had in his hand one of the "Miscellanies," and was reading the following short copy of verses, which without flattery to the author is, I think, as beautiful in its kind as any one in the English tongue:

Flavia the least and slightest toy
Can with resistless art employ.

This Fan in meaner hands would prove

An engine of small force in love;

But she, with such an air and mein,

Not to be told or safely seen,

Directs its wanton motions so,

That it wounds more than Cupid's bow;
Gives coolness to the matchless dáme,
To every other breast a flame.

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When this coxcomb had done reading them, "Hey-day!" says he, "what instrument is this that Flavia employs in such a manner as is not to be told, nor safely seen? In ten lines it is a toy, a Cupid's bow, a fan, and an engine in love. It has wanton motions, it wounds, it cools, and inflames."

Such criticisms make a man of sense sick, and a fool merry.

The next paragraph of the paper we are talking of, falls upon somebody whom I am at a loss to guess at: but I find the whole invective turns upon a man, who, it seems, has been imprisoned for debt. Whoever he was, I most heartily pity him; but at the same time must put the Examiner in mind, that notwithstanding he is a Critic, he still ought to remember he is a Christian. Poverty was never thought a proper subject for ridicule; and I do not remember that I ever met with a satire upon a beggar.

As for those little retortings of my own èxpressions, of" being dull by design, witty in October, shining, excelling," and so forth; they are the common cavils of every witling, who has no other method of showing his parts, but by little variations and repetitions of the man's words whom he attacks.

But the truth of it is, the paper before me, not only in this particular, but in its very essence, is like Ovid's Echo.

-Quæ nec reticere loquenti,
Nec prior ipsa loqui didicit—

OVID. Met. iii. 357.

She who in other's words her silence breaks,
Nor speaks herself but when another speaks.


1 should not have deserved the character of a Censor, had I not animadverted upon the above

mentioned author, by a gentle chastisement: but I know my reader will not pardon me, unless I declare, that nothing of this kind for the future, unless it be written with some wit, shall divert me from my care of the public.

No 240. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1710.

Ad populum phaleras.—

PERS. Sat. iii. 30.

Such pageantry be to the people shown:

There boast thy horse's trappings, and thy own.

From my own Apartment, October 20.


I Do not remember that in any of my Lucubrations I have touched upon that useful science of physic, notwithstanding I have declared myself more than once a professor of it. I have indeed joined the study of astrology with it, because I never knew a physician recommended himself to the public, who had not a sister art to embellish his knowledge in medicine. It has been commonly observed, in compliment to the ingenious of our profession, that Apollo was god of verse as well as physic; and, in all ages, the most celebrated practitioners of our country were the particular favourites of the Mus. s. Poetry to physic is indeed like the gilding to a pill; it makes the art shine, and covers the severity of the doctor with the agreeableness of the companion.


very foundation of poetry is good sense, if

we may allow Horace to be a judge of the art.

Scribendi rectè sapere est et principium et fons.

·HOR. Ars Poet. 509.

Such judgment is the ground of writing well.


And if so, we have reason to believe, that the same man who writes well can prescribe well, if he has applied himself to the study of both. Besides, when we see a man making professions of two different sciences, it is natural for us to believe he is no pretender in that which we are not judges of, when we find him skilful in that which we understand.

Ordinary quacks and charlatans are thoroughly sensible how necessary it is to support themselves by these collateral assistances, and therefore always lay their clains to some supernumerary accomplishments, which are wholly foreign to their profession.

About twenty years ago it was impossible to walk the streets, without having an advertisement thrust into your haud, of a doctor "who had arrived at the knowledge of the Green and Red Dragon, and had discovered the female fern-seed." Nobody ever knew what this meant; but the Green and Red Dragon so amused the people, that the doctor lived very comfortably upon them. About. the same time there was pasted a very hard word upon every corner of the streets. This, to the best of my remembrance, was


which drew great shoals of spectators about it, who read the bill that it introduced with unspeakable

curiosity; and when they were sick, would have no body but this learned man for their physician.

I once received an advertisement of one "who had studied thirty years by candle-light for the good of his countrymen." He might have studied twice as long by day-light, and never have been taken notice of. But Lucubrations cannot be overvalued. There are some who have gained themselves great reputation for physic by their birth, as the "seventh son of a seventh son;" and others by not being born at all, as the unborn doctor, who, I hear, is lately gone the way of his patients; having died worth five hundred pounds per annum, though he was not born to a halfpenny.

My ingenious friend doctor Saffold succeeded my old contemporary doctor Lilly in the studies both of physic and astrology, to which he added that of poetry, as was to be seen both upon the sign where he lived, and in the pills which he distributed. He was succeeded by Doctor Case who erased the verses of his predecessor out of the sign-post, and substituted in their place two of his own, which were as follow:

Within this place

Lives Doctor Case.

He is said to have got more by this distich, than Mr. Dryden did by all his works. There would be no end of enumerating the several imaginary perfections, and unaccountable artifices, by which this tribe of men insnare the minds of the vulgar, and gain crowds of admirers. I have seen the whole front of a mountebank's stage, from one end to the other, faced with patents, certificates, medals, and great seals, by which the several princes of Europe have testified their particular respect and esteem for the Doctor. Every great man with a sounding title

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