This is about the tenth match which, to my knowledge, Will has consulted
his friends upon, without ever opening his mind to the party herself.
I have been engaged in this subject by the following letter, which comes
to me from some notable young female scribe, who, by the contents of it,
seems to have carried matters so far that she is ripe for asking advice;
but as I would not lose her good-will, nor forfeit the reputation which
I have with her for wisdom, I shall only communicate the letter to the
public, without returning any answer to it.
"Mr. Spectator,
Now, sir, the thing is this: Mr. Shapely is the prettiest gentleman
about town. He is very tall, but not too tall neither. He dances like
an angel. His mouth is made I do not know how, but it is the prettiest
that I ever saw in my life. He is always laughing, for he has an
infinite deal of wit. If you did but see how he rolls his stockings!
He has a thousand pretty fancies, and I am sure, if you saw him, you
would like him, he is a very good scholar, and can talk Latin as fast
as English. I wish you could but see him dance. Now you must
understand poor Mr.
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