be pleased to permit him. Her countenance changed at this, and she continued some time silent; at last she said, "As for this matter, I pray you, my lord, make the answer to it yourself." The bishop proceeding to tell her, that his office and duty obliged him to make this offer, she again desired him to make the answer to himself, for that he could not but know what it would be: yet, if the answer must come from her, she told him the parish church doors should be open for him, if he came, and that he might preach if he pleased; but that neither could she hear him, nor should any of her servants. Madam, said the bishop, I trust you will not refuse to hear God's word. I cannot tell, says she, what you call God's word: that is not God's word now, that was God's word in my father's days. The bishop observed, that God's word was the same at all times, but has been better understood and practised in some ages than others. Upon which she could refrain her anger no longer, but told

him, you durst not for your ears have avouched that for God's word in

my

father's

days that you do now and then to shew how able a judge she was in that controversy, she added, as for your new books, I thank God I never read any of them; I never did, and never will. She then flew into many bitter invectives against the present form of religion established, and parted from him with these words: My Lord, for your civility in coming to see me, I thank you; but for your offering to preach before me, I thank you not a whit. After this the bishop was offered a glass of wine, by Sir Thomas Wharton, which, when he had drank, he seemed concerned, and said, Surely I have done amiss! and vehemently reproached himself for having drank in that place, where God's word had been refused; whereas, said he, if I had remembered my duty, I ought to have departed immediately, and to have shaken off the dust from my feet, for a testimony against this house.

This bigotry of the Princess, gave him but a sorrowful prospect of what was to be expected when she came to the crown.

Curious Anecdote of a Queen of Spain.

When the mother of the late King of Spain was on her road towards Madrid, she passed through a small town in Spain, famous for its manufactory of gloves and stockings. The magistrates of the place thought they could not better express their joy on the occasion, than by presenting her with a sample of the commodities for which their town was famous.

The major domo, who conducted the Queen, received the gloves very graciously; but when the stockings were presented, he flew into a violent rage, and severely reprimanded the magistrates for this egregious piece of indecency. "Know," says he,

that a Queen of Spain has no legs.", The poor young Queen, who understood.

the Spanish language very imperfectly, and had often been alarmed with eccounts of Spanish jealousy, imagined they were preparing to cut off her legs, upon which she began to weep bitterly, and begged they would conduct her to Germany, as she should never be able to endure that operation, and it was with some difficulty they could appease her.

Philip IV. it is said, never laughed so heartily, as at this story.

Verses, by Queen Elizabeth. From an ancient Manuscript.

I grieve, yet dare not show my discontent; I love, and yet am forced to seem to hate; I do, yet dare not say I ever meant;

I seem stock mute, yet inwardly do prate; I am, and not-I freeze, and yet am burn'd, Since from myself, my other self is turn'd.

My care is like my shadow in the sun, Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it; Stands, and lies by me, does what I have

This too familiar care doth make me rue it. No means I find to rid him from my breast, Till by the end of things it be suppress'd.

Some gentler passion steal into my mind, For I am soft, and made of melting snow: Or be more cruel love, and so be kind,

Let me or float or sink, be high or low: Or let me live with some more sweet content,

Or die, and so forget what love we meant.

(Signed) ELIZA. REGINA, &c..

Anecdote of Archbishop Tillotson.

Archdeacon Reeves assured me, that, coming once into Archbishop Tillotson's