and forced me to let myself be saluted first, by taking me by the hand when he saw me carrying it to my head to pull off my hat.

"For my part, sir, (quoth I) I should not have minded things so nearly.

"Yes, that's well enough for thee (interrupted he.) Thou art but young, and so a stranger to those sentiments of honour, in which the riches of those that now profess it do principally consist. But thou must know, that, a simple 'squire as I am, if I met a prince in the street, and he did not take off his hat to me right (I say, take it off right) gadzooks, on the first occasion I would find a way to go into some house, under pretence of business, or slip away into the next street before he came near me, that I might not be obliged to salute him. Look ye, (continued the 'squire) except God and the king, a gentleman is inferior to none, and ought not to yield an ace to any.

"I remember (added he) I taught an officer good manners once, and had like to have caned him for saluting me with a God save you. Learn to speak as you ought, Mr. Scoundrel, (said I) and don't use me like such a clown as yourself, with your God save you! And after that, he never failed to salute me as far as he could see me, and to speak when he came near me as became him.

"Here I could not avoid interrupting him.

it an offence to say, God save a man?

What, sir, (said I) is

"What a foolish boy is this! (answered the 'squire.) That's well enough for ordinary people; but for a man of my quality, the least that can be given is, your most humble servant, sir; or at least, your servant, if it be a gentleman that speaks to me and you may see by that, whether it was fit for me to submit to the behaviour of my noble neighbour, who, to tell you the truth, did likewise use to plague me, upon all occasions, with a God save you, sir! No, by St. Anthony, I'll never take a God save you at any body's hands but the king's, if they were to add, my lord, at the end of the compliment, to sweeten it."

The unhappy 'squire, required to pay his rent, is under the necessity of taking a sudden leave of man and house, under pretence of changing a double pistole; and Lazarillo is once more without a master. A publisher of false indulgences, succeeds to his services, but Lazarillo soon quits him, and begins to rise in the world; and the first part of the volume leaves him a very accommodating and contented husband.

This production, which was printed in 1586, is attributed to D. Diego Hurtado de Mendoza, who was not only a soldier, philosopher, historian, and statesman, but a poet; who, in his vernacular language, was second to none of his age. It is by some, also, ascribed to John de Ortega, a monk.*

The work being left incomplete by the author, a second part was added by H. de Luna, which is much inferior to the

* Vide Bibliot. Hisp. Nova, tom 1. p. 291.

VOL. II. PART I.

L

first.-Lazarillo, after having served all sorts of masters, been water-carrier, public-cryer, Indian-merchant, sea-monster, gentleman-usher, &c. died a recluse. His being converted into a sea-monster is vastly extravagant. As he is returning from South America, he is wrecked off the coast of his native country, and escapes on a plank to shore, but so intangled and covered with sea-weeds, that certain fishermen, by whom he is found, conceive the idea of shewing him about the country as a sea-monster, which they actually put in execution. The 'squire is, also, again introduced in continuation, but in such a way as to destroy the truth of the original character. We will make one quotation from the second part.

"I arrived at Valladolid with six rials in my pocket, every one I met with being liberal in bestowing their charity, to which the paleness of my countenance and weakness of my limbs did much incite, them. I went strait to a broker's shop, and, for four rials, I bought me an old thread-bare frize cloak, and, for half a rial more, a hat as tall as a chimney, with a large brim; and in that equipage, with a stick in my hand, I walked up and down the street, where every one laughed at me. Here is a tavern philosopher, (says one.) There goes St. Peter in his holiday clothes, (says another.)-Hola! Signior Ratigno! (cry'd a third) do you want a little tallow to grease your boots? There is, (says a fourth) a fellow as like the soul of an hospital doctor, as one drop of water is like another.

"I had not gone far before I met a woman leaning upon a boy's shoulder, who asking me, if I knew any gentleman-usher that wanted a place, I told her I knew no other than myself, adding, that if her ladyship would accept of my service, I was very ready to obey her commands.

"We soon agreed. She promised me nine blancs a day, and I immediately took possession of my office, by giving her my hand, and throwing my stick away with great disdain, it being now become useless, having worn it formerly only to excite compassion, by leaning upon it as a mark of my weakness.

"She sent the boy back, commanding him to tell the maid to make the dinner ready, and to lay the cloth, that every thing might be in order against she came home; and then trotted up and down a couple of hours.

"At this first visit she made, she acquainted me, that when she had a mind to go any where, I ought to go before, and calling for the master or mistress of the house, inform them that Madam Pirez (which was her ladyship's name) desired to kiss their hands. She likewise told me, that I ought never to go before, when she was stopt at any place; to which I answered, that I understood the duty of a servant, and should endeavour to behave myself towards her ladyship as became me. During all this time I would fain have seen her face, but could not, she being veiled.

"Before we got to the house, she informed me further, that she

was not to keep me alone, but that she would find out some more of her neighbours, whom I should serve in conjunction with her, and who all together would pay me the salary she had promised me, but that, in the mean time, she would pay me her part. And then, asking me if I had a bed, and being told I had not, Very well (said she) my husband is a taylor, and you may creep in with the boys; neither could you have found a better place in all the town, for before three days be at an end, you shall have six other mistresses, who will give you a blanc a day.

"I was strangely surprized at the state of this taylor's wife, who behaved herself as if she had been some lady of distinction, or, at least, a rich citizen's wife; and what did yet further surprise me was, that from seven mistresses I was to serve, I should earn but eight or nine poor blancs a day. Yet I considered this was better than nothing, and especially since it was not a laborious trade, which I ever hated like the devil, choosing always rather to eat cabbage and garlick without working, than partridges and capons with any labour.

"As soon as we came home, she gave me her veil and her pattens to give to the maid; and then I saw what I desired, her face, that was not ugly, being of a pleasant countenance, a brown complexion, and good shape; the only thing about her that displeased me was the paint, which made her skin shine as if it had been the varnishing of a box. Then giving me her blanc, she bid me attend her twice a day, to see if she would go abroad, viz. at eleven in the morning, and three in the afternoon. I went strait to the pastry-shop, where I soon laid out my money, passing away the remainder of the day very poorly, having before consumed all I had got in alms, and not daring to beg any more, lest it should come to my mistress's knowledge.

"At three o'clock I returned to wait on her ladyship, who told me she would not go abroad, and informed me that she would pay me only on such days as she went out, and that if she went but once, she would give me but one half of my salary; adding further, that since she gave me a bed, I ought to prefer her to all my other mistresses, and stile myself in particular her servant, which the bed well deserved, and much more. This fine bed was nothing else but the working table, upon which I lay with her husband's apprentices, having nothing to cover us but an old rotten blanket, and that in a little time was torn into twenty pieces, by pulling and hauling to see which of us should have it.

"Two days I passed over in such misery as may easily be imagined I should with four deniers a day; when a tanner's wife entered into the society, and was above an hour in agreeing with me for four deniers more so that, in short, in five days I had seven mistresses, and six or seven blancs a day. Then I began to eat most splendidly, and to drink none of the worst, tho' none of the dearest, that I might not cut my cloak larger than my cloth.

"The five other mistresses were, the widow of a bailiff's follower, a gardener's wife, another that pretended to be cousin to a Carmelite monk, and a tripe-woman, the last of whom I liked better than all the rest, because, when she gave me my blanc, she never failed to add

some bit or other for the belly, nor did I ever leave her house without three or four porringers of good porridge in my stomach; and thus I led a life so much to my liking, that I pray God I may never lead a worse. "As for the devout hypocrite, I had more trouble with her than all the rest, because she was continually visiting, but not continually in contemplation.

"In all my life-time, I never saw a greater hypocrite than that woman, who, when in the street, never took her eyes off the ground, nor let her beads be out of her hands, but was always muttering over prayers, so that every one that saw her desired her to pray for them, believing certainly that God Almighty would hear her. Her reply used to be, that she was a great sinner; in which she did not lye, but cozened the world with a sad and serious truth.

66

Every one of them walked in the street as if she had been the president of Castile's lady, nor could any body have taken them, by their mien, for less than judges' wives at least.

"It happened one day, that the Carmelite's kinswoman and the catchpole's widow meeting together in the same church, and being both to return home at the same time, there arose in the middle of the church a furious quarrel between them, which of the two I should first attend, and with so much rage did they pull me and haul me, that they tore my cloak in pieces, under which appeared a nasty shirt, as full of holes as a fishing-net; and the people seeing my skin through it, began to banter poor Lazarillo, while the rest were diverted by my two mistresses, who were tearing their great grand-fathers out of their graves. For my part, I was so busy in taking up the pieces of my cloak, that I could not listen to the compliments of either, only I heard the widow cry out, Where the devil has this baggage got all this pride, that was but yesterday a tankard-wench; and now she ruffles it in her silks, at the expence of the poor souls in purgatory!-How now, Mrs. Wagtail! reply'd the other; what means this noise with you, to strut it out so proudly with what you earn of those that owe all their gettings to a God reward you? Why, sure there must be a little difference still between the shepherd and his bitch!

"When I had got up the pieces of my cloak, and patched it together as well as I could, with the assistance of some pins I begged of an old pater-noster mumbler that was busy at her prayers, after the by-standers had parted their claws from one another's hair, I left them brawling in the church, and went to pay attendance on my mistress, the taylor's wife, who had ordered me to wait upon her about eleven o'clock, because she was to go abroad to dinner. As soon as she saw me in that pickle, she began chiding me at a most unmerciful rate. What's the meaning of this? (said she.) Do you think to earn my money by coming to attend me like a beggar? For smaller wages than I give you, I could have a gentleman-usher, with a curious doublet, fine breeches, and a handsome coat and cloak; and you must tipple away, after such a scandalous manner, the money I give you!"

The translation, as our readers have no doubt remarked, is executed in a masterly, spirited, and excellent style.

ART. VIII.-The Works of William Browne; containing Britannia's Pastorals; with notes and observations, by the Rev. W. Thompson, late of Queen's College, Oxford. The Shepherd's Pipe, consisting of Pastorals. The Inner Temple Masque, never published before; and other Poems; with the Life of the Author ; in 3 Volumes, 1772.

By much the greater portion of modern readers of poetry confine their attention to the productions of our contemporary bards, and content themselves with but few and hasty draughts at the "well of English pure and undefiled." We much fear thatitis now considered a far more indispensable thing to possess, than to read, the classics of the language; who are too often allowed to keep their high and splendid state in dignified and unmolested repose-duly purchased, gorgeously bound, and richly installed, they appear, as has been said of the bishops of the church, rather as the graceful and ornamental heads of an establishment, than active and useful labourers in the vineyard. The plays of Shakspeare are, indeed, read, or at least, such of them as are acted on the stage, and praised with perhaps more zeal than discrimination. Milton, too, is undertaken as a duty, and the whole of Paradise Lost achieved at the due age, in a given time. After this exploit, the name of Milton is ever after as familiar in the mouth as" household words," and any grown young lady or gentleman would be indignant at the bare suspicion of their not being perfectly well versed in his works. Pope is also read; but then, in comparison with Scott or Byron, he is no poet, and so dismissed. In addition to this stock of our national poetry, the fashionable lover of verse, in a luckless hour, may probably have met with some ardent eulogiums on Spenser, written by a person of accredited taste in an entertaining book. The "Faerie Queene" is instantly put into requisition; but, alas! what appears to him the monotony, the lifelessness, the want of character and interest, quickly arrest the progress of one, accus tomed to all the "means and appliances to boot" of modern verse. So, with Milton, Spenser, Pope, and Dryden, in the mouth, and a mixture of contempt and ignorance of them in the heart, the genteel reader of poetry sits down to the highly relished preparations of the modern caterers to the public taste-to witness the stormy exhibitions of power in Byron, to revel in the " gossamer and roses" of Moore, listen to the "fabling rhyme," which tells of the "magnificence of yore," in Scott, or sail along the smooth sea of tender and delicious beauty in the pages of Barry Cornwall. We do not complain of this devotion of the common run of readers to contemporary song, for it has