royal portraitures and a number of flags, on which were painted coats of arms and trophies, and above was a concert of vocal and inftrumental mufic.

At the upper end of Cheapfide was the aldermen's ftation, where the recorder addreffed the queen in a very elegant oration, and, in the name of the citizens, prefented her with a thoufand marks, in a purfe of gold tiffue, which her majefty very gracefully received.

At a fmall distance, by Cheapfide Conduit, was a pageant, in which were feated Minerva, Juno, and Venus; before whom ftood the god Mercury, who, in their names, presented the queen with a golden apple.

At St. Paul's gate was a fine pageant, in which fat three ladies richly dreffed, with each a chaplet on her head, and a tablet in her hand, containing Latin infcriptions.

At the east end of St. Paul's cathedral, the queen was entertained by fome of the fcholars belonging to St. Paul's fchool, Iwith verfes in praife of the king and her majefty, with which the feemed highly delighted.

Thence proceeding to Ludgate, which was finely decorated, her majefty was entertained with feveral fongs adapted to the occafion, fung in concert, by men and boys upon the leads over the gate.

At the end of Shoe-Lane, in Fleetftreet, a handfome tower, with four turrets, was erected upon the conduit, in each of which stood one of the cardinal virtues, with feveral fymbols; who addreffing themfelves to the queen, promised they would never leave her, but be always her conftant attendants. Within the Tower was an excellent concert of mufic, and the conduit all the while ran with various forts of wine.

At Temple-Bar fhe was again entertained with fongs, fung in concert by a choir of men and boys; and having from thence proceeded to Westminster, fhe returned the lord-mayor thanks for his good offices, and thofe of the citizens that day. The day after the lord-mayor, aldermen, and fheriffs, affifted at the coronation, which was performed with great splendor.

to the Tower of London in his coach, most of the lords being there before. And about ten of the clock they fet forward towards Whitehall, ranged in that order as the heralds had appointed; thofe of the long robe, the king's council at law, the masters of the chancery and judges going first, and fo the lords in their order, very fplendidly habited, on rich footcloths; the number of their footmen bging limited, to the dukes ten, to the lords eight, to the viscounts fix, and the barons four, all richly clad, as their other fervants were. The whole fhow was the most glorious in the order and expence that had been ever feen in England; they who rode first, being in Fleet-street, when the king iffued out of the Tower, as was known by the discharge of the ordnance: and it was near three of the clock in the afternoon, when the king alighted at Whitehall. The next morning the king rede in the fame ftate in his robes, and

lords in their robes to Westminster-hall, where all the enfigns for the coronation were delivered to those who were appointed to carry them, the earl of Northumberland being made high constable, and the earl of Suffolk earl marshal for the day. And then all the lords in their order, and the king himself walked on foot upon blue cloth, from Westminster-hall to the Abbey-church, where, after a fermon preached by Dr. Morley, (then bishop of Worcester) in Henry Vilth's chapel; the king was fworn, crowned, and anointed, by Dr. Juxton, archbishop of Canterbury, with all the folemnity that in thofe cafes had been used. All which being done, the king returned in the fame manner on foot to Westminster-ball, which was adorned with rich hangings and ftatues, and there the king dined; and the lords on either fide had tables provided for them; and all other ceremonies were performed with great order and magnificence. Fff 2

The

"I

Am now (faid that great man) going for Scotland, and believe I thall never see you again, as I find my conftitution on the decline, and am come to give you my last advice concerning the intereft of my country. I fhall tell you freely what I think you should do, and if you act a contrary part, you have it to answer for to your country.

"You have now got poffeffion of Cape Breton; never give it up: it will enable you, by good managment, to drive the French out of North-America, make you mafters of the fur-trade, and of the fifhe ries there, by which the nation will be able to accumulate great wealth, and increase the export of your manufactories to that part of the world to an immense extent; and by the fisheries, befides adding fome millions a year to the national wealth, your nursery of failors will be increased by an addition of 15 or 20,000; but, which by far is the most interefting confideration to this country, you thereby for ever deprive France of their nursery of failors, by which they never can fit out any fleet that can make them a dangerous neighbour; and they are the only people that can hurt us.--

"As to the Sugar islands, it is no doubt greatly our intereft to difpoffefs them of what they have amongst the Leeward ifands, because that would not only make us mafters of the fugar trade, but likewife put our own islands there in perfect fafety, in cafe of a war; whereas, at prefent, our fugar trade there is greatly hurt by a neft of privateers: but by our being masters at fea, we always must have it in our power to poffefs ourfelves of these islands when we please.

"Now I come to tell you, Sir, what I fear you will do, viz. you will give up Cape Breton, and patch up some unfafe peace; and that reftlefs nation, which never lofes fight of universal monarchy, will repair their navy, which you have now reduced very low, and they will take the first favourable opportunity of going to war again; and God knows what the event may be. By long experience, I know well that ambitious nation, and the hatred they bear to Great Britain, as the

only nation which ftands in the way of their being mafters of Europe."

Has not experience convinced us of the juftice of that great man's way of thinking; and is it not surprising, that any man who calls himself a Briton, should dare to write in favour of leaving the French in poffeffion of an inch in NorthAmerica ?-A nation which has lately endeavoured to difpoffefs us of our valuable poffeffions there, on which our very being as an independent nation depends; has put us to the expence of more than thirty millions in defending them; has encouraged the favages, who were their fubjects there, to cut the throats of our fellow-fubjects in cold blood, &c. &c. It is into the hands of thefe very people, our Frenchified fcriblers want we should again put fcalping knives, to murder our brethren; and by giving them up part of North- America, and the liberty to fin there, put it again in their power to repair their marine, and be our rivals on the fea; and are not ashamed to say, that a fugar island is of more confequence to this nation than a continent and a fishery, which has been demonftrated by many papers wrote on that fubject, brings into us fome millions a year, and confumes more of our manufactories than all the fugar islands together; and where the confumpt muft double every twelve or thirteen years, in proportion as the inhabitants increase, by which, as this year the export is more than two millions, in thirty-seven or thirty-eight years hence it must be fixteen millions, whereas the confumpt in a fugar ifland is not capable of any fuch increase.

Besides, by excluding France from North-America, we make all our fettlements there fecure; whereas by their neighbourhood to them, our people there are kept in continual uneafinefs, as their conftant ftudy is to excite the natives to cut their throats---and at this moment, by means of their fettlements of Miffiffippi, they are acting the fame part they did in Canada. To conclude; a man who prefers Gaudaloupe to North-America, acts much the fame part as one who should maintain that the Ifle of Wight is more valuable

valuable than Great-Britain.--- But I hope our present minifters, will keep both, and add Martinico to them; that nothing can happen on the continent of Europe, will make them part with any thing that concerns the intereft of our own country; and that if Germans will hire them felves to France, to cut one another's throats, we will not exhaust our blood and treasure, to protect people that will ruin themselves. This is the only way to bring Germany to its fenfes, and make them unite against the common disturbers of the peace of Europe: and then we can protect Germany without ruin to our

felves, by attacking France by sea, if they invade their neighbours on the continent: which is the only effectual way to ruin France, and protect Hanover: for, by carrying on a war on the continent, we ruin ourfelves without hurting France, and expose Hanover to continual danger; whereas, were the five millions, expended yearly on the continent, employed in attacking France by fea, they would foon be convinced, that for every fhilling they could get from Hanover, they would lofe a guinea; and, at the fame time, that five millions, which is funk in Germany, would ftill circulate at home.

As the manner of this piece is entirely

new in England, and founded on the model of the Italian comedy, which is a fpecies of the drama known only to a few, it may not be improper to point out to our readers in this place what that fpecies of writing is, and confequently what it is they ought to expect from a piece written on that kind of plan.

The drama of the Italian theatre, then, is a fort of Baffa Comedia, which not being confined to the rigid rules of unity, admits of fome degree of improbability, and even of impoffibility, with respect to the machinery and action, and confequently requires nothing more than that the characters, which are for the most part putre, and favouring of the Caricatura, fhould think, fpeak, and act, naturally under the peculiar circumftances they are thrown into, be thofe circumstances ever fo unnatural. Thefe characters, moreover, are for the most part the fame in all the feveral comedies of the Italian theatre, and are distinguished by the fame names, fo that being pre-defined, and generally known, the audience becomes at once informed of the connection they have with each other, and of the manner in which they are to expect them to pro

ceed.

The first of thefe characters is Harlequin, who is conftantly made either the gentleman or hero of the piece, or elfe a pert lively valet, attendant on the hero,

In whichever of thefe lights, however, he appears, the principal wit, and moft poignant fatire of the piece is ever thrown into his part; and indeed in the original Italian comedies, the bufinefs of this character only was determined by the author, the language and wit being left entirely to the performer, to fupply by his turn for extempore humour and repartee; and this bufinefs being printed, and the pieces themselves devoid of any language, probably gave the first rife to our dumb fhew pantomimes.

Pantaloon, or what in the old Italian comedy was more frequently named Cinthio, is constantly an old man, avaritious and jealous, father to the heroine, whose name for the most part is either Isabella, or Angelica, and anfwers to the Columbine of our mute pantomimes.---She has always a lover, who is either a gentleman (mostly named Leander or Octavio) to whom Harlequin is a valet, (is in that character an admirer of the genuine Columbine, who is almost constantly the Suivante, or chamber-maid of the heroine) or else Harlequin himself, who in that cafe is attended by a pert arch fervant of the name of Mezzettin, as Pantaloon is by a clown or fool named Pierrot. When Harlequin is a valet, it is not uncommon to introduce another valet of the name of Scaramouch, who is a rival to Harlequin in the affections of his miftrefs Columbine, but over whom he constantly got the better in the

ead,