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and feeling. Perhaps you can tell me who is the author. Is it Butler? If it has not been published (which I have not been able to ascertain), perhaps you can give it a nook in your Magazine. It was apparently written for music. Yours, &c. W. H.

P. S. Mr. Adamson took for a motto to his arms, "Pro Rege Meo,

PROSPERIS ET ADVER8IS." He was

son of the Rev. James Adamson, a learned and loyal divine, Rector of Teigh, in Rutland, whose epitaph is set forth in Wright's Hist, of Rutland, and he married Catharine, daughter of the Rev. Wm. Gilbert, Rector of Culworth, in Northamptonshire. He was Domestic Chaplain to Sir Edmund Turnor of Stoke Rochford, co. Line, knt. as well as one of the King's chaplains.

A Cavalier's Farewell to his Mistress, on
leing called to the Wars.
1.
Fair Fidelia, tempt no more,
I may no more thy deity adore,
Nor offer to thy shrine;
I serve one more divine,
And farr more great than you.
Hark 1 the trumpets call away;
I must go,
Lest the foe
Gain the cause, and win the day.
Let's march bravely on,
Charge them in the van.
Our cause God's is,
Though their odds is
Ten to one.

2.
Tempt no more, I may not yield,
Although thine eyes
A kingdom may surprize.
Leave off thy wanton tales,
The high-born prince of Wales
Is mounted in the field,
Where the royal gentry flock,
Though alone,
Nobly born,
Of a ne're decaying stock.
Cavaliers, be bold,
Bravely hold your hold,
He that loyters
Is by traytors
Bought and told.
3.
One kias more, and then farewell,
Oh no 1 no more,
I prythee give me o're,
Why'cloudest thou thy beams?
I see by these extremes
A woman's heaven or hell.
Pray the king may have his own j
And the queen
May be seen,
Gknt, Mao, Vol, XXII.

With her babes, on England's throne.
Rally up your men,
One shall vanquish ten.

Victory, we

Come to try thee Once again.

Mr. Urban, May.

ALLUDING to E. I. C.'s request (in your Minor Correspondence of February last) for information as to the situation of those places in monasteries appropriated to " outward confession," I am of opinion that a certain small aperture, now walled up, but formerly communicating from the cemetery through the lower part of the chancel wall of Hurley Priory church,* and those low-silled windows often found near the western end of chancels—were the places for that '* confession of all comers" denominated by Bedyll "uttward," (from the circumstance of the penitent being placed outside the church during confession,) to distinguish them from places more within the church or monastery where the priesthood privately confessed to one another.as your correspondent J.R. states. Hagioscopes, as we now term them, were also I think confessionals, although perhaps not what Bedyll would have called uttward confessionals.

At Lenham, in Kent, attached to the southern side of the chancel, is a handsome stone arm-chair, havingat its western side a low step-like base, as if for a person to kneel on at confession, and there is something like it in the northern porch of Redcliff church, Bristol.

A reverend friend has just informed me that at about four feet from the ground, through the lower part of the southern wall of the chancel at Coombe in Sussex, was a circular hole, about eighteen inches in diameter, having splayed sides, and apparently coeval with the old wall, but certainly not made for a window, and therefore probably a confessional.

In a paper read to the Oxford Architectural Society, last May, it was stated that " on both sides of Garsington chancel, under the westernmost windows, are low side openings which retain the old iron work, and have evidently been glazed, though long blocked up within."

At the outside of the northern wall

* Noticed by Plantagenet in our Magazine for March, 1839. G

of the tower of Trnmpington Church is a recess, having its base level with the ground, about G feet high, and Ij feet wide and deep, and at the back of which is a loop-hole, now closed up, but once communicating with the inside of the tower. And in St. Michael's church at Cambridge I lately saw at the back of the central sedile a email loop-hole, now glazed, but formerly opening into the eastern part of the south aisle. This hole ia about 4i feet from the pavement of the aisle, but there are no remains of any step for the penitent to kneel on, as at Lenliam.

In Elsfield church, Oxon, is a low side window now walled up, at the inside of which is an original stone seat; and I believe there is something like a confessional in Gloucester cathedral—not to mention the socalled confessionals enumerated in the tenth volume of the Archaeologia.

Confessionals are not necessarily closed like those wooden latticed closets now commonly used on the continent; for I once saw on a hot

Sunday in Bavaria a priest seated in the church-yard receiving the confessions of his parishioners, as they one by one reverentially passed him.

The term "uttward " may also have been used in contradistinction to certain small chambers, probably sacristies, behind the altar, such as exist at Crewkerne and Hensdridge, in Somersetshire, and which have two doors, one for the entry, and one for the exit of penitents; each with an appropriate symbol and inscription over it.

Outwaid Confessionals—originally I presume in the porch or galilee—are now only permitted to be in the nave or other generally accessible parts of the church; and I much doubt whether we ought to infer, as E. I. C. would seem to do, from Bedyll'suse of the term outward, that any other kind of confessionals existed, (except for the priesthood as above mentioned,) and more especially since such must in Bedyll's opinion have, "a fortiori," been more objectionable than open confessionals.

Yours, &c. Plantaobnbt.

Mr. Dyce't Remarkt on Collier's and Knight'i Editions of Shakespeare.

Me. Urban,

MR. DYCE has accumulated so many proofs of the absurd incompetency of these two editors of Shakespeare that very little is left for any one else to say; and even that little may possibly have been rejected already by Mr. Dyce, along with the other notes, which want of room has (most unfortunately) compelled him to omit. I must venture, however, to contribute my mite.

There are two cases in which Shakespeare appears to have had reference to the works of others, which certainly merit mention among the many quotations of that description which have been brought together by his various editors.

1. In Tht Merry Wives of Windsor, the jest of Pistol, "Then did the sun on dunghill shine," is a caricature of a line in Robert Southwell's S. Peter's Complaint (15Q5) "As spotlessesunne doth on the dunghill shine" (p. 15, ed. 1590). It is possible that an expression in Fletcher's Queen of Corinth (Works, vol. v. p. 438, ed. Dyce) may be an imitation from Shakespeare; but

it seems far more certain that Shakespeare himself was, in this passage, unconsciously joining Bp. Hall in throwing unmerited ridicule on Southwell.

2. lu As you Like it, the line " Sans teeth, sans eyes," &c. is copied from Garnier's Henriade, 1594. See Censura Literaria, ix. p. 337, second edit.

As Mr. Dyce (p. 107) has taken the trouble to set Mr. Collier right about the meaning of "Lady, my brach," I wonder that he did not give him a hint on "Ay, Sir Tyke, who more bold?" (Collier, vol. i. p. 258.) Mr. Collier's note,—"Falstaff calls simple 'Sir," and then corrects himself in order to give him a derogatory appellation," &c. is one of the most entertaining pieces of folly I ever read.

Mr. Collier's life of Shakespeare is left untouched. But fairness is so great a virtue, that 1 heartily wish some one would give him a little advice on the proper way of treating former editors and biographers. Any one who compares his remarks on pp. Ixix. and cxix. with the original passages in Malone's Shakespeare, by Boswell, vol. ii. pp. 63 and 169, (as

well as 168,) will fully understand what I mean. But Mr. Collier is so systematic in his blunders, when he has occasion to give a reference to Malone, that one can scarcely help suspecting him of a desire to avoid comparisons. Thus, on p. Ixxvii. he refers to "ii. 90," meaning ii. 95; on p. xci. he refers to "ii. 266," meaning ii. 566, as he elsewhere gives it rightly (viz. on pp.clxiii. and ccxi.); on p. clxxxii. he refers to "ii. 585," meaning ii. 485; and on p. cclxvii. he refers to "i. 601," meaning ii. 601. Of course all these (and many like them) may be mere misprints, just as in his note on p. lxvii. "Mary Arden" is a misprint for " Agnes Arden j" but, if so, what becomes of Mr. Collier's character for correctness? or how can we trust him where we cannot trace him, if he is found to be so unsafe a guide where we can?

Mr. Dyce (p. 294) has referred to one emendation (!) in Mr. Collier's reprint of Armin's Nest of Ninnies. Let me call your attention to another; on p. 7, line 23, of the reprint, we read, "loude of any," t. e. of course *' loved of any." Mr. Collier (p. 58) suspects a misprint; otherwise he would ex

plain it "allow'd of any"!! an interpretation which will most certainly be " allowed " of none.

In like manner, in his reprint of Patient- Grissil, for the same most luckless Shakespeare Society, we meet with a misprint in his original—" Alabaster bowels" (reprint, p. 54, line 6), which the meanest critic would at once correct to "bowk." Mr. Collier (p. 95) proposes " vessel"!!

I will just add that another instance of the misprint, "away " for " awry," mentioned by Mr. Dyce, p. 212, may be found in Davison's Poelicall Rhapsodie, p. 301, ed. Nicolas, where Sir Egerton Brydges (vol. i. p. 118) had silently corrected it; and that a specimen of another misprint, also mentioned by Mr. Dyce, p. 220, that of "yet" for "yt" or "it," occurs in the Appendix to Laud's Troubles and Tryal, p. 561, where it has been lately remarked that "yet being bis first visitation" is a misprint for "it being," &c.

Yours, &c. A Country Parson.

When will Mr. Dyce give us an edition which may hereafter be regarded as the textus receptus of Shakespeare?

RETROSPECTIVE REVIEW.

Salt upon Salt. By George Withers, Esq. 1659-
(.Continued from Vol. XXI. p. 272.)
Withers mentions the rule of his own obedience to the government.

The principle I own is to adhere

To that power which supremacy doth bear,

And I'll (without an oath) be true to those

Who are by God and by this people chose,

Till they advance another whom I see

Invested with power absolute to be,

And, whether he comes in by right or wrong,

Leave: that to them to whom it doth belong;

Him I will serve, not with base flatteries

Which blind his judgment or put out his eyes;

In my addresses I will never tell

To him what I may fear he knows too well,

Nor further than I know him magnify him,

Lest his own conscience, knowing I belie him,

Or speak more than my knowledge can acquire,

Do hereby know I am a fawning liar. ,

Before him I will those things onely set,

Which I think he may possibly forget,

Or which unto his knowledge were not brought,

Or (if known) not considered as they ought,

And do it so that he shall not despise

What's done, if he be either good or wise;

If not, yet, when my duty I bare done,

I'll hear with patience what ensues thereon.

In all the changes which have been of late,

I hare preserved this rule inviolate,

Though some think not; when one power was made two,

And wiser men knew not which way to go,

For, so far as my conscience would permit,

I served that power which in the throne did sit

Most visibly ; in every change that came,

Siding with none in changing of the same.

And when the soveraynty on him was placed,

By God's permission, who enjoyed it last,

I did accordingly employ my force

To keep what might be naught from being worse,

And, venturing sometimes so far therein

That to my disadvantage it hath been,

I was to him in all things always true,

Which nothing took from his superior's due.

I did so far forth as it would consist

With God's praise, with the public interest,

And his true honor, do what in me lay

All these obstructions to remove away,

Which by disabling him might heretofore

Have made his dangers and our mischiefs more, &c.

After enlarging on the interment and obsequies of Cromwell, which is the chief subject of his poem, and animadverting with censure on its magnificence, the author proceeds, (p. 18,)

Philip of Spain, the second (as 'tis sayd),
Did of a funeral pageant thus arrayd,
A patent leave ; which is resembled much
By this ; one circumstance, and some few such
Excepted, (and for ought that I yet knew
That might be privately performed too,)
Those antirooms of state, with blacks beclad,
Tlii cin- i. which men to the effigies passage had,
And wherein they were forced to stand bare,
Became a property unuseful there;
For Pater-Nosters they should there have said,
And Avc-Marias for the soul that's dead.
If they that ceremonie had observed
For which those places were at first reserved,
And whereto (though unpractised at this day)
Such innovations will perhaps make way.

We are already drawing very nigh

To superstitions and idolatrie,

And at the bnck door that is coming in

Which at the fare door hath expelled bin.

Who would have thought that we who do neglect

One of the goodliest piles of architect

In all the Christian world, because long since

It seemed profane, by things which gave offence,

That we should raise up trophies in Its stead,

Of straws, and sticks, and kexes to the dead,

And with exploded vanities defile

The palaces and temples of the isle?

Who having seen what zeal expressed was

In pulling down of crosses, painted glass,

Old altars, images of saints and kings,

(And with these of some inoffensive things,)

Did then suppose he should have lived to see

An idol in that place advanced to be,

Where heretofore an altar and a rood

To be adored by the people stood?

Who can believe that he who vilifide
Not long ago the vanitie and pride
Of former princes,—that he who had spoke
Against the heavie burthen and the yoke
By them imposed, and was himself the rod
And sword assumed into the hand of God
To root them out,—that he who but of late,
When he dismist the counsellors of state,
Sayd to the sergeant, Take away that bable,
(His mace at that time lying on the table,)
Should ever of his own accord think fit
Those trinkets which he slighted to admit;
And, when he down into the grave descended,
Should thither with more vain pomps be attended
Than any English prince that heretofore
A sovereign sceptre in these islands bore?

He then speaks of the offence given by this pomp of funeral rites, and of the consequences that may follow 5 and, alluding to the storm which was the subject of so much attention, anxiety, and remark, he says, it is the storm of God's anger and punishment that he most fears and anticipates, from the vices, flatteries, and avarice of the times.

God hath made known to us in some measure,

By every element, his just displeasure,

Those things, without which nothing is enjoyed,

Have of our late enjoyments much destroyed.

By sudden fires our dwellings are consumed,

And into smoke our precious things are fumed;

The waters in their wombs have swallowed up

No little portion of the merchant's hope;

And, overflowing new and antient bounds,

Swept herds and flocks out of the lower grounds;

The air, by storms and blastings, frosts and snows,

Destroyed our last crops in their fairest shows j

Yea after publicly we made confessions,

That God, accepting our humiliations,

Had thereupon vouchsafed pregnant hopes

Of future health and of more plenteous crops,

Even since that likely hope we for our sin

Deprived of that expectancy have bin:

The earth which bears us too, for our offences

Withholds her bounty ; their sweet influences

The heavens withdraw. Death, when unlooked for, seizes

More oft than formerly by new diseases,

And they to give accompt are called upon

Who lived as if accomptable to none.

• • • i *

But hear me further, and relate I shall

Some things which do not every year befall,

Our ablest horse (even those, perhaps, wherein

More trust reposed was than should have bin)

Die suddenly, and ditches are bestrowed

With those bones whereupon our gallants rode,

Their stink (as once a prophet said) ascends,

Yet still his hand against us God extends.

Tbi ise leggs likewise which are our second strength,

Do reel already, and will sink at length

Thi t body which they bear ; the wings by which

We flew from shoar to shoar and were made rich,

Be [in to flag, and fly not to and fro

Wi ;h such success as they were wont to do.

Soi ae whose new honours bloomed but last spring

Fel 1 with the leaf, to shew how vain a thing

An bition is, and let them understand

Wi o flourish yet, their winter is at hand.

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