valuable than Great-Britain.--- But I hope our prefent 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 themfelves to France, to cut one another's throats, we will not exhauft 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 difturbers of the peace of Europe: and then we can protect Germany without ruin to our

felves, by attacking France by fea, 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 ourselves 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 lose a guinea; and, at the fame time, that five millions, which is funk in Germany, would ftill circulate at home.

AS

S 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 extré, 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 diftinguished 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 proceed.

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

In whichever of these lights, however, he appears, the principal wit, and most poignant fatire of the piece is ever thrown into his part; and indeed in the original Italian comedies, the business 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 themfelves devoid of any language, probably gave the first rise to our dumb shew pantomimes.

Pantaloon, or what in the old Italian comedy was more frequently named Cinthio, is constantly an old man, avariticus and jealous, father to the heroine, whose name for the most part is either Isabella, or Angelica, and answers 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 elfe 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 conftantly got the better in the

end.

fusing her, and Harlequin growing impatient at the delay of his union with his miftrefs, and proceeding to fome liberties which are difpleafing to her, she in the common phrafe wishes him hanged, which by a contrivance in the stage is immediately done, he being drawn up to a gibbet which rifes out of the ground.--But now induced with great fincerity to unwith this her defire, as she has before done by two other trifling wishes, her power becomes forfeited, and Manto appearing once more, infifts on Pantaloon's bestowing her on Harlequin, which he, from a confideration that all the conditions he himself had infifted on have been complied with, at last confents to do, and the fairy concludes the piece with a reflection of the impropriety there would be in trufting to mankind a power of enjoying whatever their different paffions might induce them to wish for.

With regard to the merit of this piece, I fhall not pretend to direct the public

judgment. The language of it feems to be pure, correct, and elegant, and the ftrokes of fatire which form the principal bent of the author's defign, are many of them very keen, juft, and delicate.--There is, however, a barrenness of incident, and even the circumftance of the Wishes, on which the whole turns, feems not made fo advantageous an ufe of as might have been done.--The catastrophe is brought on in a hurry, and the incident of hanging Harlequin has a disgustful and horrid effect, and was justly pointed out in that light by a very confiderable part of the audience.The piece, however, had the valuable advantage of being tried before a moft fplendid, elegant, and at the fame time judicious audience; the warm approbation of which, fhewn to the fentimental parts of it, bear eftimable witness to the merit of thofe parts, and from whofe diflike therefore of others, the author cannot justly make any appeal.

1

PAUL Francis Velly was born the 9th of April, 1709, in the province of Champagne. His father, who is still living, practifes both furgery and phyfic; and, as if these two employments were not fufficient, or that he may be more ufeful, he is also a notary of no small practice, and, lastly, juftice of fix or feven parishes in his neighbourhood. A phyfician of Rheims, lately paffing near the place of M. Velly's refidence, called on him, and aftonished at fuch a variety of profeffions being exercised to the general fatisfaction by one man, wrote to an ac quaintance of his, alfo a phyfician: "I have seen our brother Velly, who is phyfician, furgeon, notary and juftice, angel and lawyer, God and devil; and foon will no longer be any thing, confidering his great age, being on the wrong fide of eighty."

The Abbé Velly was initiated into literature, at the college of the Jefuits, at Rheims; and fuch was his progrefs, that in less than four years' he finished his humanity courfe; in October, 1726, he entered into that order, in which, as he often faid, he spent fourteen delightful years, and quitted it in 1749. There the Abbé 5

Velly acquired a vaft stock of erudition, and love of labour. He came to Paris in 1741, and, induced by a natural propenfity to enjoy the intimate converfation of his former brethren, accepted of a tutorfhip in the college of Louis Le Grand. When a proper opportunity offered of difengaging himfelf from the galling chains of that profeffion, he determined, against all formal obligations, to exert himself in procuring liberty and independency by the productions of his pen. His first piece was a translation of the endless Law-fuit, or the biflory of John Bull; a tranflation from the witty fatire of Dr. Swift's, on the long war, which was terminated by the peace of Utrecht. This little pamphlet was fucceeded by a very long-winded work. The Abbé was very well verfed in hiftory; and though that of France has been the subject of many able pens, he thought it might be exhibited in a new light, with regard to morais, ufages, laws, opinions, &c. a part no lefs entertaining than effential, yet neglected by most hiftorians, who amufe the' reader only with military atchievements, and political intrigues. The two first vclumes fucceeded beyond his bookfeller's hopes, and fuch a fiagular fuccefs was no

more

white, with a red breaft, and orange coloured circles round the eyes.

They have a long hooked beak, fcaly legs, thick crooked talons, and are diftinguished from the hawk by their bignefs, and from the vulture by the bill, which is black at the tip, and blue in the middle, though in fome yellow. The tongue does not terminate in a point like that of other birds, but is grifly, and almost fare at the end. At its root are two hard points, like the iron ones of an arTOW. Their eye is quick and threatning, a little funk in the head, and protected by the prominency of the forehead, refembling an eye-brow; underneath which is a hard and bony ledge, compofed of feveral fubftances, joined and placed one above another like scales. The ftomach fhews the voracity of this bird; for, when thoroughly inflated, it is two inches in diameter. The bones are very hard, and have very little marrow in them. The blood is thick and fibrous, the bill sharp, biting, and very corrofive.

This bird is fo voracious, that he ravages all the neighbouring places, which are fcarce fufficient to furnish him with prey neceffary for his fupport. Hence it is remarked, that two eagles are not to be found but at a great diftance from each other. Aristotle and Pliny fay, that the eagles chace their young ones not only out of the airies, or nefts, but even out of the country they inhabit, as soon as they are able to fly. They are not contented with the larger birds, as hens, geefe, and cranes, but pursue rabbits, hares, lambs, and kids, which they lift from the ground, and carry off. Ælian relates fomething ftill more extraordinary, which happened in the island of Crete: "An eagle of prodigious fize attacked the bulls, with as much boldnefs as the weakest and most fearful animals; and his fury fupplied him with addrefs to overcome them. After placing himself between their horns, he tore their head with the strokes of his bill; frequently he beat out their eyes, or covered them with his wings, till the furious bull, after doing all in his power to free himself from his enemy, threw himself into a marth, or over a precipice, when the eagle completed his death by tearing out his intrails, and made him his prey."

As the eagle lives wholly on the flesh of fuch animals as he kills, so he quenches August, 1761.

his thirst with their blood, and never drinks water but when he is fick. It is faid that the fwan is the only bird that can refift him, and that he frequently does it with fuccefs. An ancient author has left us an entertaining defcription of a fight between these two birds; but it appears rather to be founded on his own imagination than on truth. The whole has the appearance of fable: for all the other birds are afraid of the eagle to a fovereign degree; they quake and tremble at his cry; and even the dragon, when he hears him, takes refuge in his den. Nor are the fishes safe from his rapacity. He perceives them at the bottom, as he skims over the fea or lakes; plunges immediately down with the rapidity of an arrow; and drags them to the bank, where he devours them. On this account, the Indians, according to Philoftratus, carried on a mortal war against him, shooting at him with poisoned arrows.

eagle,