s writ,
I once applauded for most excellent wit;
But reading thee, and thy rich fancy's store,
I now condemn, what I admir'd before.
Henceforth translations pack away, be gone,
No Rogue so well writ, as the English one.

We cannot help observing, that Winstanley has a little ridiculously
shewn his vanity, by informing the world, that he could afford to drink
a glass of Rhenish; and has added nothing to his reputation by the
verses, which have neither poetry nor wit in them.

[Footnote 1: Oldmixon's Life of Maynwaring.]

[Footnote 2: Life, p. xviii. xix.]

[Footnote 3: Ibid. p. xxii.]

* * * * *

The HON. Mrs. MONK.

This Lady was the daughter of the Right Hon. the Lord Molesworth, a
nobleman of Ireland, and wife of George Monk, Esq; By the force of her
natural genius, she learnt the Latin, Italian, and Spanish tongues, and
by a constant reading of the best authors in those languages, became so
great a proficient, especially in poetry, that she wrote many pieces
that were deemed worthy of publication, and soon after her death, were
printed and published with the following title, Marinda. Poems, and
Translations upon several occasions, printed in London, 1716. The book
is addressed to her Royal Highness Carolina Princess of Wales, in a
long dedication, dated March 26, 1716, written by her father, who thus
affectionately speaks of the poems and their author.

'Most of them (says he) are the product of the leisure hours of a young
gentlewoman lately deceased; who in a remote country retirement, without
omitting the daily care due to a large family, not only perfectly
acquired the several languages here made use of; but the good morals and
principles contained in those books, so as to put them in practice, as
well during her life and languishing sickness, as the hour of her death;
in short she died not only like a Christian, but a Roman lady, and so
became at once the object of the grief, and comfort of her relations. As
much as I am obliged to be sparing in commending what belongs to me, I
cannot forbear thinking some of these circumstances uncommon enough to
be taken notice of: I loved her more, because she deserved it, than
because she was mine, and I cannot do greater honour to her memory, than
by consecrating her labours, or rather diversion to your Royal Highness,
as we found most of them in her escrutore, after her death, written with
her own hand, little expecti