begin to dance. The four young gentlemen hand out the four young ladies, with

"Menons les dancer toutes quatre !"

And each of the oid boys answers with

"Soit! nons allons bien vous combattre Ma vieille et moi de bien dancer."

Then the curtain falls. This work is published with her name at the title page, and cum privilegio regali.

If this little morality appears to be rather a strange performance for so pious an authoress, I fear the same objection will be found to apply with still greater force to her most cele brated work, the Heptameron, or Sept Journeés, known most commonly by the name of the Contes de la Reine de Navarre. The authenticity of this extraordinary book is placed beyond all doubt, by the testimony of Du Thou, and by the terms of the dedication of the first edition to Jeanne D'Albret, the daughter of Margaret herself. Brantome speaks of it very much con amore. "Elle fit,"

66

says he, en ses gayetes une livre qui s'intitule Les Contes de la Reine de Navarre, on l'on voit un style si doux et si fluant et plein de si beaux discours et belles sentences, que J'ai oui dere que la Reine Mere et Madame de Savoye estans jeunes se voulurent mesler d'en escrire des nouvelles à part a l'imitation de la dite Reine de Navarre, sçachant bien qu'elle en faisoit. Mais quand elles veurent less siennes elles jetterent les leurs dans le feu."

To give any account of this book were needless, for it is well known to all who would take pleasure in such sort of reading. It may, however, be mentioned, as a singular enough circumstance connected with it, that of one of the most strange of all the strange stories it contains, she is herself the heroine. Those who have perused the Contes will recollect the account given of an attack made on the honour of a lady of princely rank, by a gentleman, in whose house the court to which she was attached happened to be lodged. The story gives a terrible idea of the times. A scene in which hospitality and loyalty are outraged, as well as some virtues whose observation is, according to certain codes of morality, less strictly demanded, is described by this queen in a tone of good-humoured pleasantry, not inferior to Rabelais or Smol

let. Wonder of wonders! The offended lady who tore her rude lover's cheeks, and enjoyed his being obliged to keep his bed next day to hide his scratches, was Margaret of Navarre herself. The satyr who insulted her was Admiral Bonnivet, the chief favourite, pro tempore, of her brother Francis I. For this amusing note we have the authority of Varillas and of Brantome. The grandmother of the latter writer was maid of honour to her Majesty, and told it to the young historian of gallantries with her own lips.

In short, were any one foolish enough to choose for the text of a com mentatio the celebrated sarcasm of Muretus "Mulieres Doctæ plerumque sunt libidinosæ," the life of the queen of Navarre might be quoted in contradiction, and not a few of her writings in defence of the position.-I remain, tout a vous,

POINT DE BAS BLEU.

Bath, July 1, 1818.

LETTER FROM NELL GWYN.

[The following curious letter, from the celebrated Nell Gwyn, has been copied for us from the Cole MSS. in the British Museum. It has the following notice prefixed to it, in the hand-writing of that collector: thin, in a neat Italian hand, and was sealed "It is written on a sheet of gilt paper, very with a small seal of black wax, but the impression is lost. It was given to Dr Apthorp (vice-provost of Eton, and brother-inlaw to Cole,) by Mrs Pitt, Maddox Street, London, July 9, 1773."]

HORE CANTABRIGIENSES.

are bought I will sign a note for her to be payd. Pray Madam, let ye man with Sedan, and send Potvin goe on my and Mr Coker down to me, for I want them both. The Bill is very dear to boyle the Plate; but necessity hath noe Law. I am afraid Mm you have forgott my Mantle, which you were to line with musk colour Sattin, and all my other things, for you send me noe Patterns nor Answer. Monsieur Lainey is going away. Pray send me word about your Son Griffin, for his Majestie is mighty well pleasd that he will along with goe

my

Lord Duke.

I am afraid you are soe much taken up with your owne House, that you forgett my Businesse. My Service to dear Lord Kildare, and tell him I love him with all my Heart. Pray Mm see that Potvin brings now all my things with him: My Lord Duke's Bed &c. if he hath not made them all up, he may doe that here; for if I doe not get my Things out of his Hands now, I shall not have them untill this Time Twelvemonth. The Duke brought me down with him my crochet of Diamonds; and I love it the better because he brought it. Mr Lumley, and everie Body else will tell you that it is the finest Thing that ever was seen. Good Mm speake to Mr Beaver to come down too, that I may bespeake a Ring for the Duke of Grafton before he goes into France.

I

I have continued extream ill ever since you leaft me, and I am soe still. I have sent to London for a Dr believe I shall die. My Service to the Dutchesse of Norfolk, and tell her, I am as sick as her Grace, but doe not know what I ayle, although shee does, which I am overjoyed that shee goes on with her Great Belly.

Pray tell my Ladie Williams, that the King's Mistresses are accounted ill-pay-masters, but shee shall have her money the next Day after I have the Stuffe.

Here is a sad Slaughter at Windsor, the young men's taking y. Leaves and going to France, and although they are none of my Lovers, yet I am loath to part with the men. Mrs Jennings I love you with all my Heart, and soe good by'.

E. G.

No I.

EPIGRAMS TRANSLATED.

I.

On the late LORD LILFORD'S attempt to form a Coalition, upon fair and equal terms, between the DUKE OF PORTLAND and MR PITT.

ON fair and equal terms' to place

An union thy care;

But trust me, Powys, in this case,
The equal will not please his Grace,

And Pitt dislikes the fair.-Polit. Miscel. Jungere vis dextras procerum, facunde, du

orum:

Tentandum est alio flectere corda modo.
Nempe pari pulcraque vocas in fœdera lege;
Hic refugit pulcram, respuit ille parem.
Aliter.

Quæ par conditio atque pulcra juxta
Ambobus fuerit, Powyse, quæris:
At neutri tua lex satis placebit;
Huic par displicet, odit ille pulcram.

II.

On the Motto of the DODDRIDGES, " Dum
Vivimus, Vivamus ;" an Epigram, pro-
nounced, by DR JOHNSON, one of the
finest in the English language.'
“ Live while you live," the Epicure will say,
"And give to pleasure every fleeting day:"
"Live while you live," the sacred preacher
cries,

"And give to God each moment as it flies."-
Lord, in my sight, let both united be;
I live to pleasure while I live to Thee.
Dr Doddridge.

"Dum vivis, vivas," Epicuri degrege clamat, "Daque voluptati dum fugit usque, diem:" "Dum vivis, vivas," Christi de nomine dictus, "Daque Deo," clamat, "dum fugit usque, diem."

Dirigat hic tempus, tempus mihi dirigat ille; Quodque voluptati, detur id omne Deo.

Letter.

Pity the sorrows I endure

The cause I must not, dare not tell. The grief that on my quiet preys, Thatrends my heart, that checks my tongue, I fear, will last me all my days;

But feel it will not last me long.

Cor si forte tuum purum tetigere piumque Fallaces hominum spes, variusque labor; Quos dudum patior, precor ah! miserere dolorum:

Tristis in æternum causa silenda latet.

At qui me rodit luctus, quem lingua tacere Cogitur, et pectus comprimere intus, edax— Ut vitam pergat me discruciare per omnem, Sentio non perget discruciare diu.

V.

Παρμενίωνος, εις Ξέρξην.

Τον γαίης και ποντε αμειφθείσαισι κελεύθοις,
Ναυτην ηπειρ8, πεζοπορον πελάγευς,
Εν τρισσαις δοράτων ἑκατοντασιν ἔσεσεν Άρης
Σπαρτης αισχυνεσθ, ερέα και πελαγη.
Anglicè.

To stop the Persian monarch's way,
In vain the swelling ocean rose;
In vain, his progress to delay,

The lofty mountains interpose.
Roused by the Spartan chief to fight,

When lo! his slender band obeys; These turn'd th' unnumber'd hosts to flight:Blush then, ye mountains and ye seas. From the English. Progreditur Xerxes: tellus occludere frustra Montibus, oceanus fluctibus optat iter: Quod mare non potuit, potuit non terra, la

conum

On a Lady who died in Childbirth. The breath which you surrender, I receive; I enter on a world-'tis yours to leave: My cares are all to come, yours all are past, And my first moment proves my mother's last. My life your death, your pangs my power supply:

I kill in birth, and you in bearing die.

Mater quas perdis vitales filius auras Haurio; quamque fugis das mihi luce frui: Tetua præteriit, mea nondum est orta procella; Prima eademque mihi est, ultimaque hora tibi.

Mors tua vita mea est, vitam mihi morte dedisti:

Et neco ego nascens, tuque necare parens.

XV.

Say, why on lovely Chloe's face
The lily only has a place?

Is it because the absent rose

Is gone to paint her husband's nose ?

Sola Chloes vultum decorant cur lilia? nasum Anne viro ut pingat, fugit ab ore rosa?

XVI.

the sphere of amusement, I beg leave heartily to congratulate you. I mean that wild, black-bill Hazlitt.

You do not, I perceive, know what a paltry creature this is, otherwise you would either have said more or less about him than you have done. I am a very brief man, and can neither write sounding letters like Idoloclastes, nor doleful ones like Presbyter Anglicanus, nor jeering ones like Timothy Tickler, nor torturing ones like gruff old General Izzard." But I will, in three or four sentences, undertake to give you some little insight into the real character of Hazlitt.

66

and a mere bookmaker; one of the sort He is a mere quack, Mr Editor, that lounge in third-rate bookshops, and write third-rate books. It were well if he were honest in his humble trade. I beg, through your Miscellany, to put the following queries to him, which I hope he will answer by return of post.

Query I. Mr William Hazlitt, expainter, theatrical critic, review, essay, and lecture manufacturer, London, Did you, or did you not, in the course of your late Lectures on Poetry, &c. infamously vituperate and sneer at the character of Mr Wordsworth-I mean his personal characer; his genius even you dare not deny?

II. Is it, or is it not, true that you Owe all your ideas about poetry or criticism to gross misconceptions of the meaning of his conversation; and that

lymphis ?

Quæ rosa mirantes tam nova mutat aquas ? Numen, convivæ, præsens agnoscite numen: Vidit, et erubuit, lympha pudica Deum. Crashare. Whence has the stream its flush, unknown before ?

The rosy glow, which through its veins has

rush'd?

A present Deity, ye guests, adore"The bashful stream has seen its God, and F. R. S.

blush'd."

HAZLITT CROSS-QUESTIONED.

MR EDITOR, IN the course of your practice as a critical sportsman, you have already had the merit of discovering, winging, and bagging some new kinds of game. Upon one of these, your additions to

perhaps existence, to the humane and firm interference of that virtuous man, who rescued you from the hands of an indignant peasantry whose ideas of purity you, a cockney visitor, had dared to outrage?

III. Is it, or is it not true, that you did some time ago, in your occupation of scribbler, play off upon one of your task-masters or employers, the two following tricks? 1. Sending him a translation verbatim from a common French book, and demanding pay for it as your own original composition. 2. Quoting a book upon tobacco-pipes as a book upon tides; and thereby exposing you, him, and the work itself, to the eternal derision of all who understood either the subject on which you were writing, or the German tongue, or the rules of common honesty? IV. Being expelled, as you desery

ed, from the Edinburgh Review, and obliged to take refuge in the New Series of the Scots Magazine (a work much better fitted for your merits and attainments), Is it, or is it not true, that you have been going on for some time past, abusing the good-natured ignorance, and unsuspecting simplicity, of the worthy Conductors of that Miscellany, and doing all in your power to injure their reputation and that of the said Miscellany, by playing off upon them, and procuring to be inserted in their book, all manner of gross blunders, and impudent falsehoods, and outrageous extravagancies, which might happen to come into your head?

1. For example, in an essay of yours on the "Ignorance of the Learned," do not you congratulate yourself, and the rest of your Cockney crew, on never having received any education? 2. Do you not, in that essay, pass off for original communication, a quantity of trash already printed by you in another publication?

3. Do not you call Mr Canning, one flash of whose eye, one word of whose lip, would wither you into annihilation-the most contemptible character of the day?

4. Do not you, who cannot repeat the Greek alphabet, nay, who know not of how many letters it is formed, pretend to give an opinion of the literary character of Professor Porson?

5. Do not you assert, that Dr Burney undertook to point out solecisms in Milton's Latin style? I now tell you that your assertion is false-that Dr Burney never did undertake any such thing-but that he did write some observations on Milton's Greek style, valuable to scholars, but unintelligible to Cockneys.

6. Do you know the difference between Milton's Latin and Milton's Greek?

8. Did not you say what you knew to be false, when you said, that Dr Burney, "in his preface" (there is no preface), had " hardly a sentence of common English?"

9. Do you know any thing what ever about the late Dr Burney or his writings, or have you not been vilifying a great scholar, in all the malignity of ignorance and drunkenness of folly ?

than you know that Latin is not Greek, or that the foam of the sea is not a tobacco-pipe?

11. Do not you pretend to claim acquaintance with Bishop Waterland, and must I have to tell you no such man ever existed?

12. Do you not, you impudent charlatan, quizz the poor Editors of the Scots Magazine into publishing a sweeping sentence, wherein the following great men are all represented as having lived and written in vain, viz. Butler, the author of the Analogy; Berkeley, the bishop of Cloyne; Bull, whom Warburton calls "one of the most masculine of English intellects;" St Augustine, the Plato of Christianity; Scioppius, Cardan, and Scaliger, three of the greatest scholars, and one of them, if you mean Julius Cæsar Scaliger, (but indeed I do not suppose you know there were two of that name) one of the greatest men modern, Europe has ever produced; and, last of all, (mirabile dictu!) Puffendorf and Grotius, who of all modern writers have been the most extensively and lastingly useful to their own and all the other countries of Europe, but of whose works, your personal as well as your literary character affords every presumption, you have never read one word even in a translation?

13. Is it possible to be guilty of a more mean trick than thus deluding into derision, under the mask, and claiming the recompense of good will, two men, who, hard-hearted Cockney! "did thee no wrong?"

14. Do you not, on every occasion, describe the Editors of this said Scottish Magazine as perfect ninnies, and their work as a millstone? and do you not despise yourself, for mixing, for the sake of a few paltry pounds, your madness with their idiocy? and do not you say so at all times and in all places?

V. Did not you publish an answer to Malthus, though at the same time you knew that you did not understand the difference between arithmetical and geometrical proportion? and did you not pollute its pages with obscenities hideous as those of Aretine, and dull as those of Cleland?

4 A