nglish
court the polished manners which had long distinguished that of France.
Conversing with Eustace, she found nature had been as liberal to his
mind as to his person. Pleased with his wit and gallantry, she asked
him, with that air of condescending dignity which seems to confer a
favour while it requires a service, to become one of her pages of
honour, and a volunteer in her troop of guards. Dazzled with the
attention of his Royal mistress, still beautiful, and most fascinating
in her affability, Eustace never considered that the request wedded him
to her fortunes. He saw in her who made it his sovereign Lady, the
consort of that excellent Prince whom he had been taught to reverence in
prosperity, and adore in misfortune. Inflamed with the ardent spirit of
chivalry, he panted to defend the title of his King, and the beauty and
virtue of his Queen, against all impugners. To suffer for her was
glorious. Perish the base worldling who thought either of danger or
remuneration! He immediately declared his rapturous acceptance of her
invitation; and, kneeling, sealed his vows on the fair hand of his
illustrious mistress.

Nothing could be more contrary to the wishes and principles of Dr.
Beaumont, than this connexion. The Queen's retinue was composed of that
refuse of the old court, who not having talents for an active situation,
nor virtue enough to make them sensible of the baseness of impoverishing
dependence, continued to hang like leeches on the exhausted frame of
Royalty, and to drain its decayed resources for their own support. While
the King and his counsel were debating how to equip an army without
money or credit; while the great and the good were disarraying their
noble mansions, parting with every moveable, mortgaging their lands, and
alienating even the treasured heir-looms which had for centuries
attested their high descent, to support their falling Sovereign; the
courtiers, who surrounded the Queen, were engaging their mistress to
forward their intrigues for places and titles, and inticing her to
pervert the scanty resources of the public treasury to feed their
rapacity. Thus, when, after a painful summer spent in martial toils and
dangerous conflicts, the King came to his winter-quarters, he found the
fatigues of his public duties aggravated by those private cabals which
were ever at work to counteract the decisions of his council, and to
balance the advantage of a few sycophants against a nation's weal. Th