Love is the strongest of all paffions, at least when i becomes violent. It is lefs fubject to the con. troul of either the understanding or the will than any of the reft. Fear, anger, and feveral other paffions, are neceflary for the prefervation of the individual; but love is neceffa ry for the continuation of the fpecies itself; it was therefore proper that this pafton fhould be deeply rooted in the human breast. Though love be a strong paffion, it is feldom fo rapid in its progress as feveral of the others. Few perfons fall defperately in love all at once. I would therefore advise every one, before he tampers with this paffion, to confider well the probability of his being able to obtain the object of his love. When that is not likely, he fhould avoid every occafion of increasing it. He ought immediately to fly the company of his beloved object to apply his mind attentively to ftudy-to take every kind of amufements, and, above all, to endeavour, if poffible, to find another object which may engage his affections, and which it may be in his power to obtain. When love becomes a disease, it is not easily cured. Its confequences in this cafe are often fo violent that even the poffeffion of the beloved object will not always remove them. It is therefore of the greatest importance early to guard against its influence; but where the paffion has already taken too deep hold of the mind to admit of being eradicated, the beloved object ought, if poffible to be obtained. Nor fhould this be deferred for every trifling caufe. Those who have the difpofal of young perfons are too ready to trifle with the paffion of love; fuch for the most fordid considerations fre. quently facrifice the future health, peace, or happiness of thofe committed to their care. Even the conduct of parents themselves, in the disposal of their children in marriage, is often very blameable. An advan tageous match is the conftant aim of parents, while their children often fuffer between their own inclinations and the duty they owe their parents, The confequence is generally ob vious; the ruin of the children, and the too late repentance of the parents. THE GAME of CONNECTIONS. The following account of a new game at Cards may serve to premote the fire-fide amufement of a winter's evening; T HIS cheerful game, the in, vention of our princess Elizabeth and the duchess of York, iş played as yet only in the first circles, The rules are as follow: You pool guineas, and draw fhillings, or pool fillings, and draw pence. If four play, deal eight cards each; if three play, deal ten cards each-fo that twenty two, or twen ty-four cards are always left out. The cards are played in the fame manner as at Whift, and have the fame value, except that the trump never varies. Diamonds are perpetual trumps. Should a trump be played in the round in which there is a connec tion, it takes the trick; otherwife it Original Letter of Queen Elizabeth. 643 is always taken by the perfon who flatter myself that this is the first played the firft card of the Connec-time of its publication. tion. When there is a Connection, either the next player, or the last, has a right to play a diamond, whatever the lead was, without being fubject to a revoke; in other cafes the lead must be always followed. Whatever fuit may be led, the holder of a card of Connection has a right to play it, without a penalty; but the next player must follow the firft lead, unless he can answer the card of Connection. This game is fo eafy and full of variety, to fay nothing of its high derivation, that it promifes to be the favourite of the winter. ORIGINAL LETTER of QUEEN ELIZABETH. (From the Curiofities of Literature. Vol. II.) LETTER. "Like as the riche man that day gathereth riches to riches, an fort till it come to infinit, fo m to one bag of mony layeth a great thinkes, your majestie not being tilness fhewed to me afore this time fuffifed with many benefits and gen dothe now increase them in askinge and defiring, wher you may bid and comaunde, requiring a thinge not worthy the defiringe for it felfe, but made worthy for your highnefs request. My pictur I mene, in wiche if the inward good mynde towarde your grace might as wel be declared as the outwarde face and countenance fhal be feen, I wold not haue taried the comandement, but prevent it, nor haue bine the laft to grauat but the first to offer it. For blufche to offer, but the mynde I the face, I graunt, I might wel fhal neur be ashamed to prefent. For Vefpa-thogth from the grace of the pictur, site the coulers may fade by time, may giue by wether, may be spotted by her fwift winges fhal ouertake, nor chance, yet the other nor time with the miftie cloudes with ther loweringes may darken, nor chance with this althogth yet the profe could not her flipery fote may overthrow. Of be greate because the occafions hathe bine but fmal, notwithstandinge as a dog hathe a day, fo may I perchaunce haue time to declare it in dides wher now I do write them but in wordes. And further I fhal moft humbly befeche your maiefty that whan you fhal loke on my pictur, you will witfafe to thinke that as you haue but the outwarde fhadow of the body afore you, fo my inward ninde wifcheth, that the body itfelfe ver oftoer in your prefence; howbeit bicaufe bothe my fo beinge I thinke coulde do your maieftie litel pleasure thogth myfelfe great good, 4 N 2 IN and and againe because I fe as yet not the time agreing theruto, I fhal lerne to folow this fainge of Orace, "Feras non culpes quod vitari non poteft." And thus I wil (iroblinge your maicfty I fere) ende with my moft humble thankes, befechinge God longe to preferue you to his honour to your cofort, to the realmes profit, and to my joy. From Hatfilde this 1 day of May. with the virulence of faction. In a word, hiftory instructs, but memoirs delight. Thefe prefatory obfervations may serve as an apology for the following anecdotes, which are gathered from obfcure corners, on which the dignity of the hiftorian must not dwell. In Houffaie's Memoires, Vol. I. | p. 435. a little circumstance is recorded concerning the decapitation Your maießlies most humbly which illuftrates an obfervation of of the unfortunate Anne Bullen, Siftar and Seruante. ELIZABETH. ANECDOTES of ANNE BULLEN. E (From the fame.) VERY particular relating to eminent perfons in our own history, interefts the reflecting mind. One can hardly be too minute, though an unskilful writer may frequently become prolix. It is the opinion of the laborious Dr. Birch, that too many facts cannot be given; they must not however be presented in a cold and dry manner; as are most of his voluminous anecdotes. In the progrefs of this collection, I have repeatedly obferved, that the minute detail of cirumftances which is frequently found in writers of the hiftory of their own times, is far more interefling than the elegant and general narratives of later, and probably of more philofophical hifto rians. It is in the artlefs recitals of memoir-writers, that the imagination is ftruck with a lively impreffion, and faftens on petty circumftances which must be paffed over by the claffical hiftorian. The writ ings of Brantome, Comines, Froiffart, and others, are dictated by their natural feelings; while the paffions of modern writers, cannot but be artificial; too temperate with difpaffionate philofophy, or inflamed Hume. Our hiftorián notices that her executioner was a Frenchman of Calais, who was fuppofed to have uncommon skill; it is probable that the following incident might have been preferved by tradition in France, from the account of the executioner himself.—Anne Bullen being on the fcaffold would not confent to have her eyes covered with a bandage, faying that he had no fear of death. All that the Divine, who affitted at her execution, could obtain from her, was that the would fhut her eyes. But as the was opening them at every moment, and that the executioner was fearful of miffing his aim, he was obliged to invent an expedient to behead the queen. He drew off his fhoes, and approached her filently; while he was at her left hand, another perfon advanced at her right, who made a great noife in walking, fo that this circumftance drawing the attention of Anne, the turned her face from the executioner, who was enabled by this artifice to strike the fatal blow, without being difarmed by that fpirit of affecting refignation which fhone in the eyes of the lovely Anne Bulleo. "The common executioner, Whofe heart th'accuftomed fight of death makes hard, neck Falls not the axe upon the humbled But firft begs pardon.” SHAKESPEARE. Not ·Anecdotes of James I. 645 Not however if the executioner | pun, and manifeft his paffion for fhould prove a Santerre. Perhaps there are miscreants whom even the imagination of Shakespeare could not conceive. 1723. abfolute power rather than fmother a wretched witticifm or a quaint conceit, worthy a country fchoolmatter. When he began to blutter, and called himself the oldest king in Europe, and he trow'd, the wifelt, and would be mafter of the purfes of his fubjects; but when the parlia ment anfwered him with fpirit, then they had an humble fermon from him, larded with fcraps of Larin,' upon the duty and refraints of a fovereign, and logic was chopped, and distinctions were now made on that head. "His private converfation was low and cheap, and when the crown was off, the king was never feer. His tongue never lay fill, and his ufual themes were far unworthy of royalty. He delighted in fifting metaphyficil queflions, and in dif cuffing dark points in divinity, and "Great men can never be too well-bred. We are naturally quickfighted enough to fee the difference between us and them; and can only be reconciled to us by their treating us as if there was none; but fuper-in fmutty and familiar jokes; and it eilious pains taken on their fide, will furely create diftrefs and enmity on ours. We think they owe us a part of amends for being greater than we; and if they can pay us with affability and condefcenfion, they pay cafily, and have no occafion to complain. "Cæfar was never forgiven for receiving the Roman magistracy fit ting. Some paffionate expreffions of king Charles I. against the parliament, did him more mifchief than all his former encroachments upon the conftitution, as thefe expreffions created perfonal enemies, and a fear and diitruft of his fpirit and fincerity. "His father, ftill lefs capable of fupporting the dignity of a crown, and of preferving the affections of his people, had fuch a mild mixture of timidity, pride, and familiarity, that many of them hated him, more defpifed him, and yet none feared him. He would facrifice his reputation with his people to the titillation of a peor was ufual tor him to fall upon men with ruce language and ill-breeding. His condefcenfion to others was as full of me nefies, and the obfcenities and fulfome ftyle of his letters are below the lowest mechanic; it was impoffible to know and reverence him. Those who were raised by him, treated him with contempt, and hectored him when they could not wheedle him. And it was ufual with him to give and take fuch language, as no gentleman would give or take. He was particularly free of his oaths and his kiffes; practices beneath a great or a grave man. He was fo ignorant of his character, and fo fond of logic, that from a great king he defended to be a difputant on one fide of a fquabble of divines. Hs reputation abroad was as low as at home. He talked much of king-craft; but his maxims, which he was always uttering, were poor ones, and foreign princes derided him. In their treaties with one another, they either took nå notice of this keeper of the balance of of Europe, or always outwitted him. In his own negociations with them they over-reached and baffled him, even to wantonnefs; and treated his 1ng letters and his learned labours with fmall regard. mantle. One Turpin, on this occafion, was dreffed like a bishop, id all his pontifical ornaments; he began the rites of baptifm, with the Common Prayer-book in his hand; a filver ewer with water was held by another; the marquis ftood as godfather; when James turned to look at the infant, the pig fqueaked; an animal which he greatly abhorred. At this, highly displeased, he exclaimed, "Out! Away for shame! What blafphemy is this!" "King Charles II. had much more fente and many more accomplishments. He had the parts and addrefs of a fine gentleman; but he was too witty for a king. He had many pleasant stories and told them well. He made many good jefts, and diverted his friends over This ridiculous joke did not ac bottle. But the monarch fuffered in cord with the feelings of James at the merry companion, and his good- that moment; he was not "i' th' nature was the occafion of many ill. vein." Yet we may obferve, that natured railleries. His great fami- had not fuch artful politicians as liarity with his fubjects, made them Buckingham and his mother, being very familiar with the dignity of the ftrongly perfuaded of the fuccefs of diadem, and thus it was that he un- this puerile fancy, they would not derwent so many jefts that were made have ventured on fuch blafphe upon him. The freedoms which mies." They certainly had wit his own dear friends the wits ufed neffed amusements here:ofore, not with their fovereign, and their far-lefs trivial, which had gratified his cafms upon fo great a prince, are majefty. aftonishing." It was ufual in the reign of James the First, when they compared it with the preceding glorious one, to diftinguish him by the title of Queen James, and his illuftrious predeceffor, by that of King Elizabeth. James was fingularly effeminate; he could not behold a drawn fword without fhuddering; and was partial to handfome men; but it no where appears that he merits the bitter fatire of Churchill. He was a most weak, but not quite a vicious man. He difplayed great imbecility in his amufements; which are characterised by the following one, related by Wi!fon. When James became melancholy, in confequence of various difappointments in ftate-matters, Buckingham and his mother ufed feveral means of diverting him. Amongst the most ludicrous was the prefent. They had a young lady, who brought a pig in the drefs of a new-born infant; the countess carried it to the king, wrapped in a rich Hume has informed us, that "his death was decent." The following are the minute particulars; I have drawn them from an imperfect ma nufcript collection, made by the celebrated fir Thomas Browne. The account is, I believe, taken from Dr. Plot's Hiftory of Staffordshire. "The lord keeper, on March 22, received a letter from the court, that it was feared his majesty's fickness was dangerous to death, which fear was more confirmed; for he meeting Dr. Harvey on the road, was told by him that the king used to have a beneficial evacuation of nature, a fweating in his left arm, as helpful to him, as any fontinel could be, which of late failed. "When the lord keeper prefented himself before him, he moved to chearful difcourfe, but it would not do. He ftaid by his bed-fide till midnight. Upon the confultations of the phyficians in the morning, he was out of comfort, and by the prince's leave told him, kneeling by |