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'MR. SPECTATOR,

that there are very few in it so dull and heavy, who may not be placed in stations of life, which THIS is to let you understand, that the playhouse may give them an opportunity of making their is a representation of the world in nothing so much fortunes. A well-regulated commerce is not, like as in this particular, that no one rises in it accordlaw, physic, or divinity, to be overstocked with ing to his merit. I have acted several parts of hands; but, on the contrary, flourishes by multi- household-stuff with great applause for many years: tudes, and gives employment to all its professors. I am one of the men in the hangings in The EmFleets of merchantmen are so many squadrons of peror of the Moon; I have twice performed the floating shops, that vend our wares and manufac-third chair in an English opera; and have retures in all the markets of the world, and find out hearsed the pump in The Fortune-Hunters. I am chapmen under both the tropics.

ADDISON.*

N° 22. MONDAY, MARCH 26, 1711.

Quodcunque ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi.

C.

HOR. Ars Poet. ver. 188.

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now grown old, and hope you will recommend me so effectually, as that I may say something before I go off the stage: in which you will do a great act of charity to

'Your most humble servant,

WILLIAM SCRENE.'

'MR. SPECTATOR, 'UNDERSTANDING that Mr. Screne has writ to you, and desired to be raised from dumb and still parts; I desire, if you give him motion or speech, that you would advance me in my way, and let me keep on in what I humbly presume I am a master,

THE word Spectator being most usually understood as one of the audience at public representations in our theatres, I seldom fail of many letters relating to wit, in representing human and still life togeto plays and operas. But indeed there are such ther. I have several times acted one of the finest monstrous things done in both, that if one had not flower-pots in the same opera wherein Mr. Screne been an eye-witness of them, one could not believe is a chair; therefore, upon his promotion, request that such matters had really been exhibited. There that I may succeed him in the hangings, with my is very little which concerns human life, or is a hand in the orange-trees.

picture of nature, that is regarded by the greater part of the company. The understanding is dismissed from our entertainments. Our mirth is the laughter of fools, and our admiration the wonder of idiots; else such improbable, monstrous, and in

'SIR,

Your humble servant,
'RALPH SIMPLE.

Drury-Lane, March 24, 1710-11.

coherent dreams could not go off as they do, not 'I saw your friend the Templar this evening in only without the utmost scorn and contempt, but the pit, and thought he looked very little pleased even with the loudest applause and approbation. with the representation of the mad scene of The But the letters of my correspondents will represent Pilgrim. I wish, sir, you would do us the favour this affair in a more lively manner than any dis- to animadvert frequently upon the false taste the course of my own; I shall therefore give them to town is in, with relation to plays as well as operas. my reader with only this preparation, that they all It certainly requires a degree of understanding to come from players, and that the business of play. play justly; but such is our condition, that we are ing is now so managed that you are not to be sur- to suspend our reason to perform our parts. As prised when I say one or two of them are rational, to scenes of madness, you know, sir, there are others sensitive and vegetative actors, and others noble instances of this kind in Shakspeare; but

wholly inanimate. I shall not place these as 1 have named them, but as they have precedence in the opinion of their audiences.

'MR. SPECTATOR,

then it is the disturbance of a noble mind, from generous and humane resentments. It is like that grief which we have for the decease of our friends. It is no diminution, but a recommendation of human nature, that in such incidents passion gets the

Your having been so humble as to take notice better of reason; and all we can think to comfort of the epistles of other animals, emboldens me ourselves, is impotent against half what we feel. who am the wild boar that was killed by Mrs. I will not mention that we had an idiot in the Tofts, to represent to you that I think I was scene, and all the sense it is represented to have, hardly used in not having the part of the lion in is that of lust. As for myself, who have long taken Hydaspes given to me. It would have been but pains in personating the passions, I have to-night a natural step for me to have personated that acted only an appetite. The part I played is noble creature, after having behaved myself to Thirst, but it is represented as written rather by a satisfaction in the part above-mentioned. That of drayman than a poet. I come in with a tub about a lion is too great a character for one that never me, that tub hung with quart pots, with a ful trod the stage before but upon two legs. As for gallon at my mouth. I am ashamed to tell yo the little resistance which I made, I hope it may that I pleased very much, and this was introduce bbe excused, when it is considered that the dart was as a madness; but sure it was not human madnes fo hrown at me by so fair a hand. I must confess I for a mule or an ass may have been as dry as eve fad but just put on my brutality; and Camilla's I was in my life.

beitarms were such, that beholding her erect mien,

23 toring her charming voice, and astonished with
corre graceful motion, I could not keep up to my
seven med fierceness, but died like a man.
at leas

'I am, SIR,

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to take a

him in d

'Your most humble admirer,

THOMAS PRONE."

close of No. 108, he desires his renders to compare at is said there:

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I who lately never moved without a guard, am satire will then chiefly fall upon those who ought now pressed as a common soldier, and am to sail to be the most exempt from it. Virtue, merit, and with the first fair wind against my brother Lewis every thing that is praiseworthy, will be made the of France. It is a very hard thing to put off a subject of ridicule and buffoonery. It is impossible character which one hasappeared in with applause. to enumerate the evils which arise from these

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arrows that fly in the dark, and I know no other excuse that is or can be made for them, than that the wounds they give are only imaginary, and produce nothing more than a secret shame or sorrow in the mind of the suffering person. It must indeed be confessed, that a lampoon or a satire do The words were no sooner out of my mouth, when not carry in them robbery or murder; but at the a serjeant knocked me down, and asked me if I same time how few are there that would not rahad a mind to mutiny, in talking things nobody ther lose a considerable sum of money, or even life understood. You see, sir, my unhappy circum- itself, than be set up as a mark of infamy and deristances; and if by your mediation you can pro-sion? and in this case a man should consider, that cure a subsidy for a prince (who never failed to an injury is not to be measured by the notions of make all that beheld him merry at his appearance) him that gives, but of him that receives it. you will merit the thanks of

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Those who can put the best countenance upon the outrages of this nature which are offered them are not without their secret anguish. I have often observed a passage in Socrates's behaviour at his death, in a light wherein none of the critics have considered it. That excellent man entertaining his friends, a little before he drank the bowl of poison, with a discourse on the immortality of the soul, at his entering upon it says, that he does not believe any the most comic genius can eensure him for talking upon such a subject at such a time. This passage, I think, evidently glances upon Aris. tophanes, who writ a comedy on purpose to ridi. cule the discourses of that divine philosopher. It has been observed by many writers, that Socrates was so little moved at this piece of buffoonery, that he was several times present at its being acted sentment of it. But, with submission, I think the the stage, and never expressed the least reremark I have here made shows us, that this unworthy treatment made an impression upon his mind, though he had been too wise to discover it. When Julius Cæsar was lampooned by Catullus, he invited him to supper, and treated him with such a generous civility, that he made the poet his friend ever after. Cardinal Mazarine gave the same kind of treatment to the learned Quillet, who had reflected upon his eminence in a famous Latin poem. The cardinal sent for him, and, after some kind expostulations upon what he had written, assured him of his esteem, and dismissed him with a promise of the next good abbey that should fall, which he accordingly conferred upon him in a few VERE is nothing that more betrays a base ungemonths after. This had so good an effect upon the crous spirit, than the giving of secret stabs to a author, that he dedicated the second edition of his n's reputation; lampoons and satires, that are book to the cardinal, after having expunged the tten with wit and spirit, are like poisoned passages which had given him offence. which not only inflict a wound, but make it Sextus Quintus was not of so generous and forable. For this reason I am very much trou. giving a temper. Upon his being made pope, the of humour and ridicule statue of Pasquin was one night dressed in a very possession of an ill-natured man. There dirty shirt, with an excuse written under it, that he be a greater gratification to a barbarous was forced to wear foul linen, because his launhuman wit, than to stir up sorrow in the dress was made a princess. This was a reflection fa private person, to raise uneasiness among upon the pope's sister, who, before the promotio relations, and to expose whole families to of her brother, was in those mean circumstanc ision, at the same time that he remains unseen that Pasquin represented her. As this pasquing and undiscovered. If, besides the accomplishments made a great noise in Rome, the pope offere of being witty and ill-natured, a man is vicious considerable sum of money to any person into the bargain, he is one of the most mischievous should discover the author of it. The author creatures that can enter into a civil society. His ing upon his holiness's generosity, as also on

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See Swiney, 4 + This

4to. 1706.

DRYDEN.

an opera, entitled 'Camilla, written by Owen Mae made the discovery himself; upon which the his private overtures which he had received fro We find thaicle has been said to have been levelled at Swift. same time, to disable the satirist for the fun gave him the reward he had promised, bu. repage in Swift's worcoolness between him and Addison by dered his tongue to be cut out, and both whith

!

fi

to be chopped off. Aretine* is too trite an in- of charity, which has been generally overlooked stance. Every one knows that all the kings of by divines, because they are but few who can be Europe were his tributaries. Nay, there is a letter guilty of it.

of his extant, in which he makes his boasts that

he had laid the Sophi of Persia under contribu

tion.

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Though in the various examples which I have N° 24. WEDNESDAY, MARCH 28, 1710-11.

here drawn together, these several great men behaved themselves very differently towards the wits of the age who had reproached them; they all of them plainly showed that they were very sensible of their reproaches, and consequently that they received them as very great injuries. For my own part, I would never trust a man that I thought was capable of giving these secret wounds; and cannot

Accurit quidam, notus mihi nomine tantum;
Arreptaque manu, Quid agis dulcissime rerum?

HOR. 1 Sat, ix. 3.

Comes up a fop, (I knew him but by fame)
And seiz'd my hand, and call'd me by my name-
-My dear!-how dost?

but think that he would hurt the person whose re- THERE are in this town a great number of insignifiputation he thus assaults, in his body or in his for- cant people, who are by no means fit for the bettune, could he do it with the same security. There ter sort of conversation, and yet have an impertiis, indeed, something very barbarous and inhuman nent ambition of appearing with those to whom in the ordinary scribblers of lampoons. An inno- they are not welcome. If you walk in the Park, cent young lady shall be exposed for an unhappy one of them will certainly join with you, though feature. A father of a family turned to ridicule you are in company with ladies; if you drink a for some domestic calamity. A wife be made un- bottle, they will find your haunts. What makes easy all her life for a misinterpreted word or ac- such fellows the more burdensome is, that they tion. Nay, a good, a temperate, and a just man, neither offend nor please so far as to be taken noshall be put out of countenance by the representa- tice of for either. It is, I presume, for this reason tion of those qualities that should do him honour. that my correspondents are willing by my means So pernicious a thing is wit, when it is not tem- to be rid of them. The two following letters are pered with virtue and humanity. writ by persons who suffer by such impertinence.

I have indeed heard of heedless inconsiderate A worthy old bachelor, who sets in for a dose of writers, that without any malice have sacrificed claret every night at such an hour, is teased by a the reputation of their friends and acquaintance swarm of them; who, because they are sure of to a certain levity of temper, and a silly ambition room and a good fire, have taken it in their heads of distinguishing themselves by a spirit of raillery to keep a sort of club in his company; though the and satire; as if it were not infinitely more ho- sober gentleman himself is an utter enemy to such nourable to be a good-natured man than a wit. meetings.

Where there is this little petulant humour in an author, he is often very mischievous without designing to be so. For which reason I always lay it

MR. SPECTATOR,

THE aversion I for some years have had to clubs down as a rule, that an indiscreet man is more in general, gave me a perfect relish for your spehurtful than an ill-natured one; for as the latter culation on that subject;* but I have since been will only attack his enemies, and those he wishes extremely mortified, by the malicious world's ill to; the other injures, indifferently, both friends ranking me amongst the supporters of such imperand foes. I cannot forbear, on this occasion, trans-tinent assemblies. I beg leave to state my case cribing a fable out of Sir Roger l'Estrange, which fairly; and that done, I shall expect redress from accidentally lies before me. A company of wag- your judicious pen.

gish boys were watching of frogs at the side of a 'I am, Sir, a bachelor of some standing, and a pond, and still as any of them put up their heads, traveller: my business, to consult my own humour, they would be pelting them down again with which I gratify without controlling other people's: stones " Children," says one of the frogs, " you I have a room and a whole bed to myself; and I never consider, that though this may be play to

you, it is death to us.""

As this weekt is in a manner set apart and dedicated to serious thoughts, I shall indulge myself in

have a dog, a fiddle, and a gun; they please me, and injure no creature alive. My chief meal is a supper, which I always make at a tavern. I am constant to an hour, and not ill-humoured; for

such speculations as may not be altogether unsuit- which reasons, though I invite nobody, I have able to the season; and in the mean time, as the no sooner supped, than I have a crowd about me settling in ourselves a charitable frame of mind is of that sort of good company that know not whi a work very proper for the time, I have in this ther else to go. It is true, every man pays his paper endeavoured to expose that particular breach share; yet, as they are intruders, I have an undoubted right to be the only speaker, or at least

* Peter Aretine, a native of Arezzo, who lived in the 16th the loudest; which I maintain, and that to the century, was infamous for his satirical writings; and was so bold great emolument of my audience. I sometimes as to carry his invectives even against sovereigns; whence he tell them their own in pretty free language; and Dejhis lampoons did more service to the world than sermons; and sometimes divert them with merry tales, according t was said of him, that he had subjected more princes by his as I am in humour. I am one of those who live in 23 ten, than the greatest warriors had ever done by their arms. corrcetine wrote also many irreligious and obscene pieces. Some taverns to a great age, by a sort of regular intem that he afterwards changed his loose, libertine principles; perance: I never go to bed drunk, but always at leass of devotion. He was author likewise of some comedies, set however this may be, it is certain that he composed several flustered; I wear away very gently; am apt to be eminen were esteemed pretty good of their kind; and died in the peevish, but never angry. Mr. Spectator, if you to take such a fit of laughter, on hearing some obscene conver 556, being about 65 years old. It is said by some, that he have kept various company, you know there is in him in dhat he overturned the chair upon which heat, and that every tavern in town some old humourist or other,

f got the title of the Scourge Princes. boast, that

11. this head, and died upon the spot.

Easter.

• See N° 9.

n be

C.

moked who is master of the house as much as he that ing one another at home, go in the same party to keeps it. The drawers are all in awe of him; and a benefit play, and smile at each other, and put all the customers who frequent his company, yield down glasses as we pass in our coaches. Thus we him a sort of comical obedience. I do not know may enjoy as much of each other's friendship as but I may be such a fellow as this myself. But I we are capable of: for there are some people who appeal to you, whether this is to be called a club, are to be known only by sight, with which sort of because so many impertinents will break in upon friendship, I hope you will always honour,

-11.

grib bet

pert

me, and come without appointment? Clinch of

Barnet has a nightly meeting, and shows to every

one that will come in and pay; but then he is the only actor. Why should people miscall things? If his is allowed to be a concert, why may not mine

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'P. S. I subscribe myself by the name of the

be a lecture? However, sir, I submit it to you, day I keep, that my supernumerary friends may

and am,

'GOOD SIN,

'SIR,

'Your most obedient, &c.

'THOMAS KIMBOW."

know who I am.'

ADVERTISEMENT.

To prevent all mistakes that may happen among gentlemen of the other end of the town, who come but

when 'You and I were pressed against each other last once a week to St. James's coffee-house, either by Part. winter in a crowd, in which uneasy posture we miscalling the servants, or requiring such things from

suffered together for almost half an hour. I thank them as are not properly within their respective proink you for all your civilities ever since, in being of vinces; this is to give notice, that Kidney, keeper of makes my acquaintance wherever you meet me. But the the book debts of the outlying customers, and observer

they

500

other day you pulled off your hat to me in the of those who go off without paying, having resigned Park, when I was walking with my mistress. She that employment, is succeeded by John Sowton; to did not like your air, and said she wondered what whose place of enterer of messages and first coffee. meas strange fellows I was acquainted with. Dear sir, grinder, William Bird is promoted; and Samuel consider it is as much as my life is worth, if she Burdock comes as shoe-cleaner in the room of the should think we were intimate; therefore I earn- said Bird.

250

estly entreat you for the future to take no manner

of notice of,

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'WILL FASHION,

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A like impertinence is also very troublesome to the superior and more intelligent part of the fair

sex. It is, it seems, a great inconvenience, that

And sickens by the very means of health.

chas those of the meanest capacities will pretend to THE following letter will explain itself, and needs

se make visits, though indeed they are qualified rather no apology :

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into when they visit. 'I AM one of that sickly tribe who are commonly redress in this case, by the publication of her let-known by the name of Valetudinarians; and dỡ franter in my paper; which she thinks those she would confess to you, that I first contracted this ill habit be rid of will take to themselves. It seems to be of body, or rather of mind, by the study of physic. and written with an eye to one of those pert, giddy, I no sooner began to peruse books of this nature, unthinking girls, who, upon the recommendation but I found my pulse was irregular; and scarce unly of an agreeable person and a fashionable air, ever read the account of any disease that I did not and take themselves to be upon a level with women of fancy myself afflicted with. Dr. Sydenham's the greatest merit.

er

pretty, can

learned treatise of fevers threw me into a linger-
ing hectic, which hung upon me all the while I

MADAM, 14 ITAKE this way to was acquaint you with what com- reading that excellent piece. I then applied mon rules and forms would never permit me to myself to the study of several authors, who have hotell you otherwise; to wit, that you and I, though written upon phthisical distempers, and by that equals in quality and fortune, are by no means means fell into a consumption; till at length, growsuitable companions. You are, it is true, very ing fat, I was in a manner shamed out of this imadance. dance, and make a very good figure gination. Not long after this I found in myself all in a public assembly; but alas, madam, you the symptoms of the gout, except pain; but was must go no further; distance and silence are cured of it by a treatise upon the gravel, written your best recommendations; therefore let me by a very ingenious author, who (as it is usual for beg of you never to make me any more visits, physicians to convert one distemper into another) You come in a literal sense to see one, for you eased me of the gout by giving me the stone. I at bave nothing to say. would by any means lose your acquaintance; but tempers; but, accidentally taking into my han I do not say this, that I length studied myself into a complication of dis I would keep it up with the strictest forms of that ingenious discourse written by Sanctorius, good-breeding. Let us pay visits, but never see one another. If you will be so good as to deny yourself always to me, I shall return the obliga- + The inventor of the thermometer. He

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was resolved to direct myself by a scheme of rules, in a flight than in a battle; and may be applied to which I had collected from his observations. The those multitudes of imaginary sick persons tha learned world are very well acquainted with that break their constitutions by physic, and throw gentleman's invention; who, for the better carry- themselves into the arms of death, by endeavouring ing on of his experiments, contrived a certain to escape it. This method is not only dangerous, mathematical chair, which was so artificially hung but below the practice of a reasonable creature upon springs, that it would weigh any thing as well To consult the preservation of life, as the only end as a pair of scales. By this means he discovered of it, to make our health our business, to engage how many ounces of his food passed by perspira-in no action that is not part of a regimen, or course tion, what quantity of it was turned into nourish of physic, are purposes so abject, so mean, so unment, and how much went away by the other chan- worthy human nature, that a generous soul would nels and distributions of nature. rather die than submit to them. Besides, that a

Having provided myself with this chair, I used continual anxiety for life vitiates all the relishes of to study, eat, drink, and sleep in it: insomuch that it, and casts a gloom over the whole face of naI may be said, for these last three years, to have ture, as it is impossible we should take delight in lived in a pair of scales. I compute myself, when any thing that we are every moment afraid of I am full in health, to be precisely two hundred losing.

weight, falling short of it about a pound after a I do not mean, by what I have here said, that I day's fast, and exceeding it as much after a full think any one to blame for taking due care of meal; so that it is my continual employment to trim their health. On the contrary, as cheerfulness of the balance between these two volatile pounds in mind, and capacity for business, are in a great my constitution. In my ordinary meals I fetch measure the effects of a well-tempered constitumyself up to two hundred weight and half a tion, a man cannot be at too much pains to cultipound: and if, after having dined, I find myself fall vate and preserve it. But this care, which we are short of it, I drink just so much small beer, or eat prompted to, not only by common sense, but by such a quantity of bread, as is sufficient to make duty and instinct, should never engage us in groundme weight. In my greatest excesses I do not trans-less fears, melancholy apprehensions, and imaginary gress more than the other half pound: which, for distempers, which are natural to every man who is my health's sake, I do the first Monday in every more anxious to live than how to live. In short, month. As soon as I find myself duly poised after the preservation of live should be only a secondary dinner, I walk till I have perspired five ounces concern, and the direction of it our principal. If and four scruples; and when I discover, by my we have this frame of mind, we shall take the best chair, that I am so far reduced, I fall to my books, means to preserve life, without being over solicitand study away three ounces more. As for the ous about the event; and shall arrive at that point remaining parts of the pound, I keep no account of felicity which Martial has mentioned as the perof them. I do not dine and sup by the clock, but fection of happiness, of neither fearing nor wishby my chair; for when that informs me my pound ing for death. of food is exhausted, I conclude myself to be In answer to the gentleman who tempers his hungry, and lay in another with all diligence. In health by ounces and by scruples, and instead of my days of abstinence I lose a pound and a half, complying with those natural solicitations of hunger and on solemn fasts am two pounds lighter than on and thirst, drowsiness or love of exercise, governs other days in the year. himself by the prescriptions of his chair, I shall tell

'I allow myself, one night with another, a quar- him a short fable. Jupiter, says the mythologist, ter of a pound of sleep, within a few grains more to reward the piety of a certain countryman, proor less; and if, upon my rising, I find that I have mised to give him whatever he would ask. The not consumed my whole quantity, I take out the countryman desired that he might have the manage. rest in my chair. Upon an exact calculation of ment of the weather in his own estate. He obwhat I expended and received the last year, which tained his request, and immediately distributed I always register in a book, I find the medium to rain, snow, and sunshine, among his several fields, be two hundred weight, so that I cannot discover as he thought the nature of the soil required. At that I am impaired one ounce in my health during the end of the year, when he expected to see a a whole twelvemonth. And yet, sir, notwithstand- more than ordinary crop, his harvest fell infinitely ing this my great care to ballast myself equally short of that of his neighbours. Upon which (says every day, and to keep my body in its proper the fable) he desired Jupiter to take the weather poise, so it is, that I find myself in a sick and lan-again into his own hands, or that otherwise he guishing condition. My complexion is grown very should utterly ruin himself.

sallow, my pulse low, and my body hydropical. Let me therefore beg you, sir, to consider me as your patient, and to give me more certain rules to walk by than those I have already observed, and you will very much oblige

'Your humble servant."

This letter puts me in mind of an Italian epitaph written on the monument of a valetudinarian; Stavo ben, ma per star meglio, sto qui: which it is impossible to translate. The fear of death often Droves mortal, and sets people on methods to save their lives, which infallibly destroys them. This is a reflection made by some historians, upon observing that there are many more thousands killed

* I was well; I would be better; and here I am; is nearly a verbal translation.

ADDISON.

N° 26. FRIDAY, MARCH 30, 1711.

Pallida mors æquo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas,
Regumque turres. O beate Sexti,
Vitæ summa brevis spem nos vetat inchoare longam.
Jam te premet nex, fabulæque manes,
Et domus exilis Plutonia

C.

HOR. 1 Od, iv. 13.

With equal foot, rich friend, impartial fate
Knocks at the cottage, and the palace gate:
Life's span forbids thee to extend thy cares,
And stretch thy hopes beyond thy destin'd years:
Night soon will seize, and you must quickly go
To story'd ghosts, and Pluto's house below.

CREECH.

WHEN I am in a serious humour, I very often walk by myself in Westminster Abbey; where the

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