SIR,

When a Man has been guilty of any Vice or Folly, I think the best

Attonement he can make for it is to warn others not to fall into the

like. In order to this I must acquaint you, that some Time in

_February_ last I went to the Tuesday's Masquerade. Upon my first

going in I was attacked by half a Dozen female Quakers, who seemed

willing to adopt me for a Brother; but, upon a nearer Examination, I

found they were a Sisterhood of Coquets, disguised in that precise

Habit. I was soon after taken out to dance, and, as I fancied, by a

Woman of the first Quality, for she was very tall, and moved

gracefully. As soon as the Minuet was over, we ogled one another

through our Masques; and as I am very well read in _Waller_, I

repeated to her the four following Verses out of his poem to

_Vandike_.

'The heedless Lover does not know

Whose Eyes they are that wound him so;

But confounded with thy Art,

Enquires her Name that has his Heart.'

I pronounced these Words with such a languishing Air, that I had some

Reason to conclude I had made a Conquest. She told me that she hoped

my Face was not akin to my Tongue; and looking upon her Watch, I

accidentally discovered the Figure of a Coronet on the back Part of

it. I was so transported with the Thought of such an Amour, that I

plied her from one Room to another with all the Gallantries I could

invent; and at length brought things to so happy an Issue, that she

gave me a private Meeting the next Day, without Page or Footman, Coach

or Equipage. My Heart danced in Raptures; but I had not lived in this

golden Dream above three Days, before I found good Reason to wish that

I had continued true to my Landress. I have since heard by a very

great Accident, that this fine Lady does not live far from

_Covent-Garden_, and that I am not the first Cully whom she has passed

herself upon for a Countess.

Thus, Sir, you see how I have mistaken a _Cloud_ for a _Juno_; and if

you can make any use of this Adventure for the Benefit of those who

may possibly be as vain young Coxcombs as my self, I do most heartily

give you Leave.'

The Spectator, Volume 1 Eighteenth-Century Periodical Essays · 第 34 / 351 题