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The Tatler

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peace with the Dutch.] [Footnote 78: General Wood played a distinguished part in the battles of Donauwerth (1704) and Ramilies (1706).] [Footnote 79: See the Introduction.] [Footnote 80: "A Vindication of Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq., against what is objected to him by Mr. Partridge in his Almanack for the present year 1709. By the said Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq., London, printed in the year 1709." (Advertisement in folio issue.) In a pamphlet called "Predictions for the Year 1712. By Isaac Bickerstaff, Esq.; in a Letter to the author of the Oxford Almanack. Printed in the year 1712," this "Vindication" is thus noticed: "I can't but express my resentment against a gentleman who personated me in a paper called 'Mr. Bickerstaff's Vindication.' I'm grieved to find the times should be so very wicked, that one impostor should set up to reform another, and that a false Bickerstaff should write against an imaginary Partridge. And I am heartily concerned that one who shows 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 mother's before you), let her hold six spoonfuls in her mouth, for a full half hour after you come home--" But I find I am not in humour for telling a tale, and nothing in nature is so ungrateful as story-telling against the grain, therefore take it as the author has given it you. The MEDECINE. #A Tale--for the Ladies.# Miss Molly, a famed toast, was fair and young, Had wealth and charms, but then she had a tongue From morn to night, the eternal larum run, Which often lost those hearts her eyes had won. Sir John was smitten, and confessed his flame, Sighed out the usual time, then wed the dame: Possessed he thought of every joy of life, But his dear Molly proved a very wife. Excess of fondness did in time decline, Madam loved money, and the knight loved wine. From whence some petty discords would arise, As, "You're a fool"; and, "You are mighty wise!" Though he and all the world allowed her wit, Her voice was shrill, and rather loud than sweet, When she began,--for hat and sword he'd call. Then, after a faint kiss, cry, "B'y, dear Moll: Supper and friends expect me at the Rose."[83] And, "What, Sir John, you'll get your usual dose! Go, stink of smoke, and guzzle nasty wine, Sure, never virtuous love was used like mine!" Oft as the watchful bellman marched his round, At a fresh bottle gay Sir John he found. By four the knight would get his business done, And only then reeled off, because alone; Full well he knew the dreadful storm to come, But armed with bordeaux, he durst venture home. My lady with her tongue was still prepared, She rattled loud, and he impatient heard: "'Tis a fine hour? In a sweet pickle made! And this, Sir John, is every day the trade. Here I sit moping all the live-long night, Devoured with spleen, and stranger to delight; 'Till morn sends staggering home a drunken beast, Resolved to break my heart, as well as rest." "Hey! Hoop! d'ye hear my damned obstreperous spouse! What, can't you find one bed about the house! Will that perpetual clack lie never still! That rival to the softness of a mill! Some couch and distant room must be my choice, Where I may sleep uncursed with wife and noise." Long this uncomfortable life they led, With snarling meals, and each, a separate bed. To an old uncle oft she would complain, Beg his advice, and scarce from tears refrain. Old Wisewood smoked the matter as it was, "Cheer up!" cried he, "and I'll remove the cause. "A wonderous spring within my garden flows, Of sovereign virtue, chiefly to compose Domestic jars, and matrimonial strife, The best elixir t' appease man and wife; Strange are th' effects, the qualities divine, 'Tis water called, but worth its weight in wine.

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