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Page 14
As Men that lose their Ways in Woods, divide,
Some go on this, and some on t'other Side.
The Error is the same, all miss the Road,
Altho' in different Quarters of the Wood.
Mr. _Creech_.
[Y: Horat. Lib. 2. Sat. 3. v. 48, _&c_.]
'Tis true Mr. _de la Rochefoucault_'s Design was too general, and his
Piece cannot properly be reckoned among _Characteristic-Writings_. But
tho' he did not professedly write Characters, yet this Work shews that
he was very able to do it; and it may be of very great Service to
those, who wou'd attempt any thing in this Kind.
I have often wonder'd that no _English_ Writer has ever professedly
attempted a Performance in the Characteristic-Way. I mean, such a
profess'd Performance, as wou'd extend it self to the different
Conditions of Men, and describe the various Ends which they propose to
themselves in Life; as wou'd take in the chief Branches of Morality
and Behaviour, and, in some Measure, make a compleat Work: For as to
loose Attempts and Sketches in this Kind, there are many Years since
we had some; the most considerable of which, I mean of those that bear
the Title of Characters, are printed together with Sir _Thomas
Overbury_'s Wife. These are said to have been written, partly by that
unfortunate Knight, and partly by some of his Friends. And if the
Editor had not taken Care to give us this Notice, yet still that great
Disparity which appears but too visibly in them, wou'd manifestly
prove that they were compos'd by very different Hands.--There are,
I confess, many good Things to be met with in these Characters, but
they are very far from making a compleat Work: And really this was not
intended. Besides, nothing can possibly be more contrary to the Nature
of _Characteristic-Writings_, than the corrupted Taste which prevail'd
in the Age. A continued Affectation of far-fetch'd and quaint
Simile's, which runs thro' almost all these Characters, makes 'em
appear like so many Pieces of mere Grotesque; and the Reader must
not expect to find Persons describ'd as they really are, but rather
according to what they are thought to be like.
This Censure may be thought hard; but yet it leaves Room for some
Exceptions: And that I may do Justice to Merit, where it is really
due, I shall here set down one of those Characters, which seem'd to me
to be exquisite in its Kind. And this I shall the rather do, because
the Book it self is not in every body's Hands. The Image is taken from
low Life; 'tis a beautiful Description of Nature in its greatest
Simplicity, and 'tis the more beautiful because 'tis natural.
A fayre and happy MILKE MAID.
Is a Country Wench, that is so farre from making herselfe
beautifull by Art, that one Looke of hers is able to put all
_Face-Physicke_ out of Countenance. Shee knowes a fayre Looke is but
a dumbe Orator to commend Vertue, therefore mindes it not. All her
Excellencies stand in her so silently, as if they had stolne upon her
without her Knowledge. The Lining of her Apparell (which is her selfe)
is farre better than Outsides of Tissew: for tho' shee be not arraied
in the Spoyle of the Silke Worme, shee is deckt in Innocency, a far
better Wearing. Shee doth not, with lying long a Bed, spoile both her
Complexion and Conditions; Nature hath taught her, _too immoderate
Sleepe is rust to the Soul_: She rises therefore with _Chaunticleare_
her Dames Cocke, and at Night makes the Lambe her _Corfew_. In milking
a Cow, and straining the Teates through her Fingers, it seemes that so
sweet a Milke-Presse makes the Milke the whiter, or sweeter; for never
came Almond Glove or Aromatique Oyntment on her Palme to taint it. The
golden Eares of Corn fall and kisse her Feete when shee reapes them,
as if they wisht to be bound and led Prisoners by the same Hand that
fell'd them. Her Breath is her owne, which sents all the Yeere long
of _June_, like a new made Hay-cocke. Shee makes her Hand hard with
Labour, and her Heart soft with Pitty: And when Winter Evenings fall
early (sitting at her merry Wheele) she sings a Defiance to the giddy
Wheele of Fortune. Shee doth all things with so sweet a Grace it
seemes _Ignorance_ will not suffer her to do Ill, being her Minde is
to do Well. Shee bestowes her Yeeres Wages at next Faire; and in
chusing her Garments, counts no Bravery i'th' World, like Decency. The
Garden and Bee-hive are all her Physicke and Chyrurgerie, and shee
lives the longer for't. Shee dares goe alone, and unfold Sheepe i'th'
Night, and feares no manner of Ill, because shee meanes none: Yet to
say Truth, shee is never alone, for shee is still accompanied with old
Songs, honest Thoughts, and Prayers, but short ones; yet they have
their Efficacy, in that they are not pauled with insuing idle
Cogitations. Lastly, her Dreames are so chaste, that shee dare tell
them; onely a Fridaies Dreame is all her Superstition; _that_ she
conceales for feare of Anger. Thus lives shee, and all her Care is
shee may die in the Spring-Time, to have Store of Flowers stucke upon
her winding Sheet.
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