woundes, so that life may be in little or no danger: I doo firmely beleave, that it is rather an encouragement to a reso lute soldier, rather to approche towards them than anie way to shunne them. For in troth when I was in the French kings service amongst the olde bandes of footemen, I did greatly commende the force of the long-bowe; but how was I answered? to be shorte, even thus: "Non non, Anglois, vostre cause est bien salle; car dieu nous a donnes moyen de vous encountrer apres un autre sorte que en temps passe." No, no, Englishman, saith he, your case is become fowle, for God hath given us meanes to encounter with you after an other sorte then in times past; for nowe, saith he,the weakest of us are able to give greater wounds .then the greatest and strongest archer you have: and when I replyed, as Sir John Smith often dooth, that the number of arrowes dooth come so thicke, that it was lyke unto haile: well, saith he, but it is not to be feared as that weapon dooth kill where it lightes; for, saith he, when I doo marche directlye upon them and seeing them comming, I doo stoupe a little with my head, to that end my burgonet shall save my face, and seeing the same arrowes lighting upon my heade peece or upon my brest, pouldrons, or vambraces, and so seeing the same, to be of no more force nor hurtfull; then doo I with lesse feare then before, boldelye aduaunce forwardes to encounter with them. But these are but arguments of small effect, and rather to showe the opinion of the French souldiers then for any just proofe of the matter, it is requesit that by our owne knowledge, it be truely considered of; for as I have said before touchinge the English service at Bolloigne and Guisnes, with all the great garrisons there of long time kept, which was to our princes au infinite charge, and especially Bolloigne, with the members and fortifications. And notwith standing there were as many stronge and able archers in the same garrisons as in all Christendome, there were none better, for that number: let it bee considered, what was by them done, at any time of service, within those five yeeres that it was English; or at Guisnes or Callice during the same tine.

"And nowe to a latter time, as in the seconde yeere of the queene's majesties most happie raigne that nowe is, at the siege of Lieth, where there was verie mauie archers, as of Yorkeshire, Lancashure, Cheshire, Nottinghamshire, and Surbishire: there was as good place t

have tried them as was in any place of late dayes, but I knowe that there was no good proofe made to the commend ations of archerie or of the long-bowe. And I may the more certainlic speake it for this cause:

"It was my chaunce at the conclusion of the peace, and the yeelding up of the towne of Lieth, to meet with divers of my acquaintance beeinge Frenchmen; amongst the rest, I mette with a gentleman and an oulde souldier, who served in the same company that I was off, amongest the footemen in Fraunce, whose. name was Mounsieur de Sentam, whose tallour and honest conditions I did perfectlie knowe so much the better for that we were both under one corporall, and lodged together, and frequented at meate and tablinge long together; in so much, that in respect of the great curtesie that I found at his handes in Fraunce, I partlie considered of at Lieth, and after divers speeches past betwixt him and me, I demaunded two questions of him.

"The first was to know how many of our souldiers were slaine at the skale or saltie by us given; he aunswered that there were slaine 448. I demaunded howe he did knowe the same; he answered that the governour of Lieth dyd commaunde that all the uppermost garmentes of the slaine men of the English partie should bee brought into the market place, and there to bee counted, which was done, as he affirmed, and there were found, sayd he, so many as aforesayd.

"Secondly remembering the wordes of the Frenchmen before rehearsed, at the the time of my beeing in Fraunce, touchinge archers, I demaunded of this Sentam, howe manye were slaine with arrowes, from the beginning of the siedge unto that daye; he answered not one, saving, said he, that one who was shot betwixt the shoulder and the bodie, and that with the heat of his body, when the arrow was pulled foorth, the head stuck behinde, and came not foorth together, wherfore the surgion was constrained to cut the man to recover the head of the arrow, and so the man still lay upon the amendment of his wound. Now, by this and other before rehearsed, and heereafter to be rehearsed, it dooth and may appeare, that by harquebuzes great nuinhers have come to their deaths, and either fewe or none with arrowes, or are chery.

"And now touching the service doon at that time that New-haven was kept, the 5 yeere of her majestie, by the Earle of Warwick: let the chronicle, or those

that yet doo live, make account who were there slaine; with the force or dent of arrowes. And albeit that it was so, that in the skirmish before the towne of Newhaven, that Sir John Smith speaketh of in the 37 leafe of his discourse: it may be supposed, that the French having continued long in skirmishe, whereby their pouder and bullets were spent: and besides being neere unto the towne, and in danger of the great ordinance, were of themselves willing to retire, if the fourscore archers had not come at all. I see no reporte in the histories made, touching the same, or any to any purpose of late time, and especially since the harque buze hath been rightly known, and the onger that the archers be continued, the wourse they will be esteemed."

"The Court and Character of King James, written and taken by Sir A. W. being on Eye and Eure-witness. Qui nescit dissimulare, nescit regnare. Published by authority, Lond. 1650." 12mo. THE Gowry conspiracy, the supposed treason of Sir Walter Raleigh, the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury, Prince Henry's death, and King James's slavery to his favourites, are the leading topics of this short relation by Sir Anthony Weldon. Its publication in 1650 met with both enemies and patrous; and it is not improbable that some allowance should be made for many of its, statements. The following is the account of the plot against Sir Thomas Overbury.

"The plot then must be, he must be sent a leiger embassadour into France, which by obeying they should be rid of so great an eye-sore; by disobeying, he incurred the displeasure of his prince; a contempt, that he could not expect lesse tuen imprisonment for, and by that means be sequestred from his friends.

"And thus farre I doe beleeve the Earl of Sommerset (for so was he now created) was consenting; this stratagem tooke, and Overbury might truly say, Video meliora, deteriora sequor, for he indeed inade the worst choyse: it could not be thought, but such an imployment was farre above his desert, and much better for him to have accepted, then to be confined to a loathsome prison, and for want of judgement, had his suffering been lesse then losse of life, he had not been worthy of pitty; but, Jupiter quos vult perdere, hos demontat; he would to the Tower, from whence he never returned, rather then accept of an honour

able impioyment, from whence he might not only have returned, but done his friends acceptable service, either in private or publick.

"In his managing of this businesse, (that wisedom which formerly he had been esteemed for) suffered under the censure of wise men, as well as fooles. Having him now fast inprison, Herodias, by pleasing her Herod, must also aske and have his life; for, per scelus ad scelera tutius est via. To that end they preferred Emposides to be servant to Sir Gervase Elwaies, then lieutenant of the Tower. This gentleman was ever held wise and honest, but unfortunately in having that place thrust upon him without his thought, he was also so reli gious, as few in the court did equall bim; so wise, as he obtained that character of wise Sir Gervase Elwaies; yet neither could his wisdome, nor the opinion of his religion and honesty, prevent that fate: he was so ignorant of the plot, as he never dreamt of any such matter, untill one day, as it shoulde seeine, Weston being tolde, Elwaies did know wherefore he was preferred unto him, to waite on Overbury, he asked the lieutenant whe ther he should now doe it: Elwnies asked him what? Weston at that being some» what abashed, Elwaies espyed it, pre sently said, No, not yet; for he did beleeve there was something knowne to Westou; instantly he hasted away (being a little before dinner) and went into his study, and sent for Weston to come unto him, examining him of the meaning of that question; at last by fair meanes and threatening together, got the truth; then Elwaies, as he well could, laid before Weston the horridnesse of the fact, the torments of hell, and the unassurance of his momentary enjoying of either reward or favour after the fact done, but that it must follow, so many personages of honour, would never cabinet such a secret in his breast, that might ruine them; at last made him so sensible of his danger in this life, but more sensible of the torments in the other, that Weston falling on his knees said, “O Lord, how good and gracious art thou, and thy mercy is above all thy workes'; for this day is salvation come to my soule, and I would not for all the world have had such a sinne upon me; giving the fitutenant humble thankes, that had been the instrument of saving his soule, by putting him off from so foule intentions.

"The lieutenant having now thus renewed grace in him, by making him, as

he thought, a new man; thou and I have a dangerous part to act, yet be honest and true to me, and I doubt not, but with God's help, we shall performe it well, both before God and the world. Weston faithfully promised him, and for a long time as faithfully performed with him; the lieutenant willed him, to bring all such things as were sent him to give Overbury, unto him, which he accordingly did the lieutenant ever gave them to cats and dogs, which he ever had ready in his study for that purpose; some dyed presently, some lay lingering a longer time, all which, with the jellies and tarts sent to Overbury, he cast into his privy, they destraining the very dishes.

This continued long, the earle ever sending to visite Overbury, assuring him he did not forget his release, which should not be long deferred, wherein most men did verily beleeve he meant most nobly and truly, though others conjectured his meaning was a dissolution; at last the countesse sent for Weston, reviling him, and calling him treacherous villaine, for had he given those things sent, he had not been now alive, vowing she would be revenged on him; upon the very feare whereof, he after gave those poy sons sent without acquainting the licute bant; yet for all this schooling of Weston, and his assurance given of his future fidelity to the countesse, she would not single any more, but put another coadjutor to him, one Frankelin, a verier villaine then Weston, and truly they may be deemed very il that could seek out such instruments.

"These two villaines came into Overburie's chamber, and found him in infi nite torment, with contention between the strength of nature and the working of the poyson, and it being very like na. ture had gotten the better in that contention by the thrusting out of boyles, botches, and blains, they fearing it might come to fight, upon the judgement of phisitians, that foul play had been offered hum, consented to stifle him with the bedcloaths, which accordingly was performed, and so ended his miserable life, with the assurance of the conspirators, that he dyed by poyson; none thinking other wise but these two murderers."

"A strange Metamorphosis of Man transformed into a Wildernesse. Deciphered in Characters. London, 1631." 12mo. FROM this little treatise, which comprincs forty characters, we shall transcribe but one. It will serve as a sulfi

cient specimen of the quaintness of the whole.

"10. THE ECHO

"Is the iris of the eare, as the iris is the echo of the eyes. She is the true caruelion of the aire, that changes into every colourable sense. The Proteus that transformes herselfe to every shape of words. She is the inamourado of the forrest, that will be taken with every ones love, and as Narcissus with his own beauty, be enamoured with her owne tongue, and take delight to heare her selfe speake. Yea, she is a thing or no thing, a tattling gossip, a meere babler, a teller of tales: one that hath no substance in her, but is a meer accident, in that she comes suddenly upon you unlooked for. She is of a strange qualitie, who takes delight to affright the ignorant and simple will play the hobgoblin, the fairie of the woods, least in sight, or wholly out of sight. Though shee bee a talker, and full of her tongue, yet she hath no invention with her, nor can contrive any thing of her owne, for she speakes but by hearsaye, only all shee utters, and that upon trust of another, nor can tell you the author, unlesse he discover it himselfe. She hath no me-morie at all, and therefore can remember but the last words shee heares, which she will do very faithfully indeed, and not leave you out a little. She hath no certaine tone of her owne, but as she is taught, immediately before which she will exactly imitate, if her master bee present, else not, for shee cannot retaine her lesson long, but must instantly recite it, or else she is no bodie. She will keepe her key well if she sing, and never misse it, if he that is the rector chori guides the quire, mistake it not; and when shee sings at any time, she sings no distinct part from her fellow, or the rest of the parts, for she hath no skill at all to compose or set a whit, or to runne descant on a ground, but sings the very same the others do. She dares not stand to any thing she saith, but goes her wayes presently, and never yet durst shew her face. She is a very monster and a prodigie of nature, having no body to speake of, at least as small and slender as the ayre, and yet hath a mouth as wide as the valleyes. She hath no proper tongue of her own, but what she borrowes. If the lyon roare, she roares likewise; if the heyfer lowe, she lowes as loud; if the wolfe but howle, she howles for company; yea, rather than stand out, she will bray with the venie asse; but is

never

never better in her q, indeed, than when she apes the nightingale, especially in their fughes, for then you would thinke them both starke madde, while they follow one another so close at the heeles, and yet can never overtake each other. She is a right woman, that can keepe no Counsell, and yet will bee readie to intrude herselfe into everie ones counsell, but as soone as shee hath it out it goes straight, life or death, all is one to her. She were good to make a player of the stage, for she would take her cues excellently well. She is no Ciceronian, nor

HOMER MEDICUS.

B. Wood, in his Essay on the ori

M ginal Genius of Homer, says,

"Homer has been highly extolled for his knowledge of medicine and anatomy, particularly the latter: and his insight into the structure of the human body has been considered so nice that he has been imagined by some to have wounded his heroes with too much science." On this passage, Mr. Bowyer (the celebrated printer) has a note which stands thus: Mr. Pope, as he read over every book he could think of that could give him any light into the life of Homer, had gotten an old Latin edition of Diodorus Siculus, wherein he found Homer was said to be Medicus. At which he was overjoyed, and thought be should communicate a great discovery. But behold, when he consulted another edition, he found the true reading was mendicus. "This (says Mr. Bowyer) I had from his own mouth, at Twickenham."

NEWSPAPERS.

INDIAN INK.

The black inky fluid of the cuttle-fish, which has often been supposed to be the bile, is a very singular secretion. The bag in which it is contained, has a fine callous internal surface, and its excretory duct opens near the anus. The fluid itself is thick, but miscible with water to such a degree, that a very small quantity will cover a vast bulk of water: and the animal employs it in this way to elude the pursuit of its enemies. Accord ing to Cuvier, the Indian ink (which comes from China) is made of this fluid.

SHAKESPEARE MANUSCRIPTS.

Dr. Latham attended during the last illness the father of that Mr. I. Ireland who produced the Shakespeare manu scripts. In his work on Diabetes, lately published, he says, p. 176, "Notwith standing the world did not give Mr. Ireland credit for his assertions respecting his concurrence, or even cofinivance, at his son's literary fraud; yet, in justice to his memory, I think myself here called upon, since I have this opportunity, to record it as his death-bed declaration, that he was totally ignorant of the deceit, and was equally a believer in the authenticity of the manuscripts, as those wha were the most credulous."