to Madame Scudery's romance, entitled, Ibrahim the illustrious Bassa. Ibrahim, hearing that his mistress was married to the Frince of Masseron (a groundless report), was determined to throw away his life in the wars; but was taken prisoner by Chariadan, King of Algiers, and by him presented to Linan Bassa, by whose means he became a slave to Solyman the Magnificent.

V. 879-80. And with bull's pizzle, for her love,

Was tawn'd as gentle as a glove.] Alluding to the emperor's ill-usage of him on account of his mistress, with whom he was enamoured, and his design of taking away his life, notwithstanding his promise, that he should never be cut off during his own life; and yet, though the Mufti's interpretation, at the instance of Roxalana, his favourite sultana, was, that, as sleep was a resemblance of death, he might be safely put to death when the emperor was asleep: yet Solyman (if we may believe Madame Scudery) got the better of his inclination, saved his life, and very honourably dismissed him and his mistress.

V. 883.

sympathizing.

-pathic.] Suffering, feeling, or

V. 885-6-7-8. Did not a certain lady whip

Of late her husband's own lordship?

And tho' a grandee of the house,

Claw'd him with fundamental blows.]

Dr. Grey says, "that this was William Lord Monson, who lived at Bury St. Edmunds, of whom my friend Mr. Smith, of Harleston, had the following account from a gentleman of that place: That, notwithstanding he sat as one of the King's Judges, (but did not sign the warrant for his execution), yet either by showing those favours, not allowable in those days of sanctity, to the unsanctified cavaliers, or some other act which discovered an inclination to forsake the good old cause, he had so far lessened his credit with his brethren in iniquity, that they began to suspect, and to threaten that they would use him as a malignant. His lady, who was a

woman of more refined politics, and of the true Disciplinarian spirit, to show her disapprobation of her lord's wavering disposition, and to disperse the gathering storm, did, by the help of her maids, tie his lordship stark naked to a bed-post, and, with rods, made him so sensible of his fauit, that he promised, upon his honour, to behave well for the future, and to ask pardon of his superiors; for which salutary discipline she had thanks given her in open court." To this, or a whipping upon some other occasion, the old ballads allude.

"Lord M-- next, the bencher

Who waited with a trencher,

He there with a bundle head,

Is called Lord, and of the same house
Who (as I have heard it say)

Was chastised by my lady spouse;

Because he run at sheep,

She and her maids gave him the whip

And beat his head so addle,

You'd think he had a knock in the cradle."

Of a very different character from this lady, was the lady of Lord Fairfax, who was also nominated one of the King's Judges. On the first day of the trial, the crier of the court called over the names of the commissioners; and nobody answering for Lord Fairfax, his name was repeated, when a female voice from the gallery exclaimed, "he has more wit than to be here." When the impeachment was read in the name of all the good people of England, "No, (replied the same voice, in a shriller tone,) nor the twentieth part of them." One of the officers ordered a file of musqueteers to fire at the place from whence this answer proceeded; but they soon discovered that the person who spoke was the Lady Fairfax, whom they persuaded to retire. Notwithstanding this attempt, (if attempt it may be called,) in favour of the unfortunate Charles, Lady Fairfax was a rigid Presbyterian, and on many pablie occasions showed that she had great influence over the general her husband. Mrs. Hutchinson, in her admir

able Memoirs of Colonel Hutchinson, speaking of the Lady Fairfax, says, "she was exceedingly kind to her husband's chaplaines, independent ministers, till the armie return'd to be nearer London, and then the Presbyterians ministers quite changed the larly into such a bitter aversion against them, that they could not endure to come into the general's presence while she was there, and the general had an unquiett, unpleasant life with her, who drove away from him many of those friends in whose conversation he had found such sweetenesse."

V. 896. Quoth he, I do profess and swear.] "After all the fine encomiums bestowed upon love, (says one of the commentators upon Hudibras,) it must be mortifying to a man of sense, whether successful in it or not, to look back upon the infinite number of silly things and servile compliances he has been guilty of in the course of his amours. The widow has very frankly told the knight, and in him all the world, what tortures, penances, and base condescensions, a lover must unavoidably undergo and comply with; to all which she artfully gives the preference to whipping, which was necessary for the designs she had in view: she cajoles the silly Knight with specious commendations of its practice, and alleges many instances of it, and particularly one, of which the Knight could not be ignorant; and, on the other hand, has made the slavish parts of love so formidable, that it was no wonder he was frighted into a whipping resolution. Nothing can excuse him in this juncture, but the uneasiness of his present embarrassment, and an ardent desire of regaining that invaluable blessing liberty."

V. 903. The sun grew low, and left the skies, &c.] The evening is here finely described: the greater poets were not more exact in describing in times and seasons than our author. We may trace his hero's morning and night; and it should be observed in the conclusion of this canto, conformable to the practice of the critics upon Homer and Virgil, that one day is only passed since the opening of the poem.

V. 905. The moon pull'd of her veil of light.] Sullen, in Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess, speaks thus of Amoret:

"Methought the beams of light that did appear

Were shot from her; methought the moon gave none But what it had from her."

V. 907-8. Mysterious veil, of brightness made,

That's both her lustre and her shade.]

Warburton says, (and perfectly we concur with him,) "Extremely fine! the rays of the sun being the cause why we cannot see the moon by day, and why we can see it by night."

CANTO SECOND.

THE ARGUMENT.

The Knight and Squire in hot dispute
Within an ace of falling out,

Are parted with a sudden fright
Of strange alarm, and stranger sight;
With which adventuring to stickle,
They're sent away in hasty pickle.

"TIS strange how some men's tempers suit

(Like bawd and brandy) with dispute,
That for their own opinions stand fast
Only to have them claw'd and canvass'd;
That keep their consciences in cases,
As fiddlers do their crowds and bases;
Ne'er to be us'd but when they 're bent
To play a fit for argument:

Make true and false, unjust and just,
Of no use but to be discust;

Dispate, and set a paradox,

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Like a straight boot, upon the stocks,

And stretch it more unmercifully,

Than Helmont, Montaign, White or Lully.

So th' ancient Stcics in their porch,

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With fierce dispute maintain'd their church,

Beat out their brains in fight and study,
To prove that virtue is a body;
That bonum is an animal,

Made good with stout polemic brawl:
In which some hundreds on the place
Were slain outright, and many a face
Retrench'd of nose, and eyes, and beard,
To maintain what their sect averr'd,

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