_Mr._ SPECTATOR,
I am a young Woman crossed in Love. My Story is very long and
melancholy. To give you the heads of it: A young Gentleman, after
having made his Applications to me for three Years together, and
filled my Head with a thousand Dreams of Happiness, some few Days
since married another. Pray tell me in what Part of the World your
Promontory lies, which you call _The Lovers Leap_, and whether one
may go to it by Land? But, alas, I am afraid it has lost its Virtue,
and that a Woman of our Times would find no more Relief in taking such
a Leap, than in singing an Hymn to _Venus_. So that I must cry out
with _Dido_ in _Dryden's Virgil_,
_Ah! cruel Heaven, that made no Cure for Love!