Such as did pleasure Englande's queene,
When here her royal Grace was seen;

Yet will they not this daye let passe,
The merrie day of Martilmasse.

Nel had left her wool at home,

The Flanderkin hath stayed his loom,
No beame doth swinge, nor wheel go round,
Upon Gurguntum's walled ground;
Where now no anchorite doth dwell,
To rise and pray at Lenard's bell:
Martyn hath kicked at Balaam's ass,
So merrie be old Martilmasse.

When the dailie sportes be done,
Round the market crosse they runne,
Prentis laddes, and gallant blades,
Dancing with their gamesome maids,
Till the beadel, stout and sowre,
Shakes his bell, and calls the houre;
Then farewell ladde and farewell lasse,
To th' merry night of Martilmasse.

Martilmasse shall come againe,

Spite of wind and snow and raine;
But many a strange thing must be done,
Many a cause be lost and won,
Many a tool must leave his pelfe,
Many a worldlinge cheat himselfe,
And many a marvel come to passe,
Before return of Martilmasse.

THE CABINET, vol. ii. p. 75.

H.

No. CLIII.

The master of the magic shew

His transitory charm withdrew,

Away th' illusive "objects" flew.

WARTON.

THE dean of the cathedral of Badajoz possessed more learning than all the doctors of Salamanca, Alcala, and Coimbra united. He was master of every language living or dead. He knew all sciences, divine as well as human; but, unfortunately, he was ignorant of magic, and was inconsolable for it. He was told of a most famous magician who resided in the suburbs of Toledo, called Don Torribio; he ordered his mule to be saddled, set out for Toledo, and alighted at the door of a miserable house, where this great man lodged. "Sir magician (said he, as he came up to him) I am the dean of Badajoz. The learned. of Spain do me the honour to call me their master; I come to you to request a more glorious title, that of becoming your disciple: be kind enough to initiate me in the mysteries of your art, and reckon that my gratitude will be deserving such kindness."

Don Torribio was not very polite, though he piqued himself on living with the best company in hell. He told the dean he might seek another master of magic; that for him he was quite tired of a trade where he gained only compliments and promises, and that he would no longer disgrace the occult sciences by prostituting them upon ingratitude. "How (cried the dean), can it be possible, signor Don Torribio, that you have met with ungrateful persons; I hope you will do me more justice than to confound me with such monsters." He then detailed a long string of maxims and apothegms on gratitude; he harangued with the kindest voice, and with all the appearance of truth, every thing his memory could supply him with; in short, he spoke so well, that the sorcerer, after a moment's pause, owned he could refuse nothing to one who knew so many fine quotations. "Jacintha," says he to his housekeeper, "put two partridges to the fire: I hope the dean will do me the honour to sup here to-night." He then led him into his study, where, after having touched his forehead, he repeated these mystical words, which the reader is entreated not to forget, "ortobolan, pitstafier, onagrion;" then, without farther preparation, he began to explain to him the prolegomenas of magic.

The new disciple was listening with an attention that scarce permitted him to breathe, when Jacintha entered hastily, followed by a little man, booted to his middle, and dirty to his shoulders, who wished to speak to the dean on a matter of the greatest importance. He was a courier that his uncle the bishop of Badajoz had sent after him, to inform him that a few hours after his departure his lordship had been seized with an apoplectic fit, that he was very ill, and that the most alarming consequences were to be apprehended. The dean cursed heartily to himself, and without scandal, the apoplexy, the bishop, and the courier, who all three had so badly chosen the time to interrupt him. He got rid of the courier by ordering him to return directly to Badajoz, and telling him he would be there as soon as himself, and then returned to his lesson, as if neither uncle nor apoplexy had existed.

Some days afterwards, more news came from Badajoz; but this was scarce worth attending to. The high chanter, and two of the oldest canons came, and notified to the dean that his uncle, the most reverend bishop, was gone to receive the recompense of his virtue in heaven, and that the chapter, legally assembled, had elected him to fill the vacant seat; and

they begged of him to come and console the church of Badajoz, his new spouse. Don Torribio was present at the harangue of the deputies, and took advantage of it like a clever fellow : he called the new bishop aside, and, after a proper compliment on the occasion, told him he had a son, named Don Benjamin, who, with much wit and good inclinations, had not the smallest taste or talent for the occult sciences; that he meant him for the church, and, thanks to heaven, he had succeeded in the pious design; for he had the satisfaction of hearing that his son acted as one of the most deserving of the clergy of Toledo; therefore he most humbly entreated his highness, that he would resign to Don Benjamin his deanery of Badajoz, which he could not hold with the bishopric. "Alas!" replied the prelate, with some confusion, “I shall ever be most happy when I can do any thing you request; but I must inform you I have a very old relation, whose heir I am, and who is fit only to be a dean: now if I do not give it him, I shall have a quarrel with my whole family, of which I am fond even to a degree of weakness; but," added he, " don't you intend to come to Badajoz? You will not have the cruelty to leave me when I am beginning to be of service to you? Believe me, my dear master, let us set