in raising the Mirth of Stupids, who know nothing of thy Merit,
for thy Maintenance.

It is natural for the Generality of Mankind to run into Reflections upon
our Mortality, when Disturbers of the World are laid at Rest, but to
take no Notice when they who can please and divert are pulled from us:
But for my Part, I cannot but think the Loss of such Talents as the Man
of whom I am speaking was Master of, a more melancholy Instance of
Mortality, than the Dissolution of Persons of never so high Characters
in the World, whose Pretensions were that they were noisy and
mischievous.

But I must grow more succinct, and as a SPECTATOR, give an Account of
this extraordinary Man, who, in his Way, never had an Equal in any Age
before him, or in that wherein he lived. I speak of him as a Companion,
and a Man qualified for Conversation. His Fortune exposed him to an
Obsequiousness towards the worst Sort of Company, but his excellent
Qualities rendered him capable of making the best Figure in the most
refined. I have been present with him among Men of the most delicate
Taste a whole Night, and have known him (for he saw it was desired) keep
the Discourse to himself the most Part of it, and maintain his good
Humour with a Countenance in a Language so delightful, without Offence
to any Person or Thing upon Earth, still preserving the Distance his
Circumstances obliged him to; I say, I have seen him do all this in such
a charming manner, that I am sure none of those I hint at will read
this, without giving him some Sorrow for their abundant Mirth, and one
Gush of Tears for so many Bursts of Laughter. I wish it were any Honour
to the pleasant Creature's Memory, that my Eyes are too much suffused to
let me [go on--[4].]

T.

[Footnote 1: See p. 204, vol. ii. [Footnote 1 of No. 264.]

[Footnote 2: By Richard Brome, first acted in 1632.]

[Footnote 3: By Steele.]

[Footnote 4:

[go on--

It is a felicity his Friends may rejoice in, that he had his Senses,
and used them as he ought to do, in his last Moments. It is remarkable
that his Judgment was in its calm Perfection to the utmost Article,
for when his Wife out of her fondness, desired she might send for a
certain illiterate Humourist (whom he had accompanied in a thousand
mirthful Moments, and whose Insolence makes Fools think he assumes
from conscious Merit) he answered, '_Do what you please, but he won't
come near me_.' Let poor Eastcourt's Negli