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which abundantly overbalance his presumption, vanity, and impetuosity, had the greater share in dictating these praises. If adulation were any where justifiable, it must be when paid to the man who endeavoured to save Spenser from starving in the streets of Dublin, and who buried him in Westminster Abbey with becoming solemnity.

Spenser was persecuted by Burleigh, because he was patronized by Essex."

POPE AND WARBURTON.

AMONG other instances of adroitness, may be mentioned the management of Dr. Warburton, as defender of Pope's "Essay on Man" against the objections of Crousaz.

The censures of this learned foreigner, many of them well-founded and unanswerable, were directed against the first edition of that pleasing poem; but in his defence of the Poet, the Ecclesiastic quoted succeeding impressions, in which Pope had seen and corrected many of his

errors.

The whole passed off undetected; the anxieties of Pope, irritable and alive all over, were gradually soothed; the clergy were pacified; and

Warburton, by favour of the man of verse, was introduced to Mr. Allen, married his niece, and inherited his wealth.

QUAINTNESS OF EXPRESSION.

IN the Poem of " Psyche, or Love's Mystery," by Dr. J. Beaumont, we have an example of quaintness of poetical expression, in the description which Aphrodisius gives of the court paid to him, and the pretty messages sent him by the ladies.

"How many a pretty embassy have I

Receiv'd from them, which put me to my wit
How not to understand-but by-and-bye
Some comment would come smiling after it;
But I had other thoughts to fill my head,

Books call'd me up—and books put me to bed."

The following ludicrous title of a collection of old poems, by George Gascoigne, has the appearance of being too intentionally absurd to be called quaint:

"A hundred sundrie flowers bound up in one small posie, gathered, partly by translation, in the fine and outlandish gardens of Euripides, Ovid, Petrarch, Ariosto, and others, and partly by invention, out of our own fruitful gardens

of England-yielding sundrie sweet savours of tragicall, comicall, and moral discourses, both pleasant and profitable to the well-smelling noses of learned readers."

BUTLER'S CHARACTER OF A PLAY-WRITER.

"A PLAY-WRITER of our times is like a fanatic, that has no wit in ordinary easy things, and yet attempts the hardest task of brains in the whole world, only because, whether his play or work please or displease, he is certain to come off better than he deserves, and find some of his own latitude to applaud him, which he could never expect any other way; and is as sure to lose no reputation, because he has none to venture.

"Like gaming rooks, that never stick
To play for hundreds upon tick ;
'Cause, if they chance to lose at play,
Th'ave not one half-penny to pay;

And, if they win a hundred pound,

Gain, if for sixpence they compound."

Nothing encourages him more in his undertaking than his ignorance, for he has not wit enough to understand so much as the difficulty of what he attempts; therefore he runs on boldly like a fool-hardy wit; and fortune, that

favours fools and the bold, sometimes takes notice of him for his double capacity, and receives him into her good graces. He has one motive more, and that is the concurrent ignorant judgment of the present age, in which his sottish fopperies pass with applause, like Oliver Cromwell's oratory among fanatics of his own canting inclination. He finds it easier to write in rhyme than prose; for the world being overcharged with romances, he finds his plots, passions, and repartees, ready-made to his hand; and if he can but turn them into rhyme, the thievery is disguised, and they pass for his own wit and invention without question; like a stolen cloak made into a coat, or dyed into another colour. Besides this, he makes no conscience of stealing any thing that lights in his way, and borrows the advice of so many to correct, enlarge, and amend, what he has ill-favouredly patched together, that it becomes like a thing drawn by council, and none of his own performance, or the son that has no certain father.

"He has very great reason to prefer verse before prose in his compositions; for rhyme is like lace, that serves excellently well to hide the

piecing and coarseness of a bad stuff, contributes mightily to the bulk, and makes the less serve by the many impertinencies it commonly requires to make way for it; for very few are endowed with abilities to bring it in on its own account. This he finds to be good husbandry, and a kind of necessary thrift; for they that have but a little, ought to make as much of it as they can. His prologue, which is commonly none of his own, is always better than his play; like a piece of cloth that's fine in the beginning, and coarse afterwards; though it has but one topic, and that's the same that is used by malefactors when they are to be tried, to except against as many of the jury as they can."

GRAY.

THE mother of Gray the Poet, to whom he was entirely indebted for the excellent education he received, appears to have been a woman of most amiable character, and one whose energy supplied to her child that deficiency, which the improvidence of his other parent would have occasioned. The following extract from a Case submitted by Mrs. Gray to her Lawyer, de