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upon him our nature, and to discharge the condition of the covenant of works, by perfect obedience to his will. This is the foundation of the covenant of grace. Christ is the me. diator of this new covenant, which office divides into three branches; that of prophet to teach men its conditions, and to give them the law of the gospel; that of priest to atone for their fins, and that of king to support them by his grace here, and to reign over them in glory hereafter.-* These extraordinary truths were communicated to the world by revelation, of which prophesies, miracles, &c. are the infallible test. The patriarchs and ancient Jews had them by promise divinely ascertained : Chriftians have them in actual enjoyment, confirmed by stronger evidences. The Holy Scriptures which contain this revelation, are proved to be ancient, authentic, and uncorrupted; and the writers of them have been capable and credible witnesses, and honest relaters of what they have advanced.—The condition of the covenant of grace, I mean the part incumbent on men, is divided into-+ Faith-I Obedience- and Repentance, -|| And since these cardinal duties are above the Capacity of our native powers, our Saviour hath promised to aflift our endeavours, by the influence of Divine grace, and to intercede with his Father in heaven. He hath further appointed efficacious means by which we may apply for this spiritual affiftance by the institutions- of a holy worship-** baptism++ and the eucharift.
• Such are the extraordinary means, through which we are to advance to the end of our religion, and Christ, we plainly fee is the only way to it. This illuftrious end, which is no less than the perfection and happiness of our immortal souls, commences in a future, unchangeable period, and in an unknown region, situate beyond the barrier of the grave. Incompatible with the unhallowed scenes of this world, the reward of our religion is referved for a more perfect and exalted state. Its business is opened here, and here the characters which appear and disappear on the stage of life, receive their decisive cast : but its consummation reaches into a future world. Let us then lift up the veil which separates the mortal from the immortal state, and, by that infallible light held out by revelation, let us look at, and contemplate the issue of things. And since the high rewards which are promised to the righteous, and the punishments equally transcendant which are denounced against the wicked, are the immortal sanction which enforces every doctrine and precept of
Difc. IV. Hebr. ii. 3, 4.
+ V. John, iii. 36. 1 VI. I Cor. xii. 31. § VII. Aets, iii, 1
19. Vill. Joba, xiv. 16.
tt XI. 1 Cor. xi. 26.
our religion; a review of them as they stand in the irreversible decrees of God, may form no improper conclusion to these Difa courses. Devote we, therefore this occafion to contemplate* the resurrection, future judgment, and the kingdom of the just.'
We imagine that this specimen will not greatly prepossess the judicious Reader in favour of these Discourses. The Author fatters himself too much, when he fupposes that he hach had the good fortune to adopt a style that is simple, nervous, and suited to the subject.' It is too affected to be fimple; and too verbose to be nervous. On the whole, the predominant feature of these Discourses is vanity; the next is orthodoxy; - both are enlivened with a certain degree of elegance and vivacity, which may pass them off with some readers for fine Discourses.
ART. X. The Belle's Stratagem; a Comedy, as acted at the Theatre
Royal in Covent Garden, By Mrs Cowley. 8vo. 15. od. Cadell. 1782.
ND what, enquires a lady, was the Belle's Stratagem?
more properly commence our examination of the Comedy before us, than by transcribing a Scene in the firit Ad, which serves as a key to the rest of the drama.
• Enter Letitia. • Letitia. (gives her cloak la her maid ) O:der Du Quesne never to come again ; he shall positively dress my hair no more. [Exit Maid.) And this odious lilk, how unbecoming it is! I was bez witched to chuse it. (Throwing herself on a jopba, and looking in a pocket.glass, Mrs. Racket faring at her.) Did you ever see iuch a fright as I am to day?
* Mrs. Rack. Yes, I have seen you look much worse.
• Letit. How can you be fo provoking? If I do not look this morning worse than ever I look'd in my lite, I am naturally a fright. You Thall have it which way you will.
* Mrs. Rack. Just as you please ; but pray what is the meaning of all this?
• Letit. (rifing ) Men are all disremblers, flatterers ! deceivers ! Have I not heard a thousand times of my air, my eyes, my shape-all made for victory! and to-day, when I bent my whole heart on one poor conqueft, I have proved that all those imputed charms amount to nothing ;- for Doricourt saw them unmov'd-- A husband of fifteen months could not have examin'd me with mere cutting indifference,
• Mrs, Rack. Then you return it like a wise of fifteen months, and be as iodifferent as he.
• Letit. Aye, there's the fing! The blooming boy, who left his image in my young heart, is, at four and ewenty, improv'd in every grace that fix'd him there, It is the same face that my memory, and my dreams conllanely painted to me; but its graces are finished,
Disc. XII, des, xvii. 30, 31.
and every beauty beightened. How mortifying, to feel myself at the fame moment his slave, and an object of perfečt indifference to him!
• Mrs. Rack. How are you certain that was the case? Did you exe pect him to kneel down before the lawyer, his clerks, and your falber, to make oath of your beauty ?
· Letit. No; but he should have look'd as if a sudden ray had pierced him ; he thould have been breathless! speechless! for, oh! Caroline, all this was I.
• Mrs. Rack. I am sorry you was such a fool. Can you expect a man, who has courted, and been courted, by half the fine women in Europe, to feel like a girl from a boarding-school? He is the prettiest fellow you have seen, and in course bewilders your imagination ; but he has seen a million of pretty women, child, before he saw you; and bis first feelings have been over long ago.
• Letit. Your raillery distresses me; but I will touch his heart, or never be his wife.
• Mrs. Rack. Absurd and romantic! If you have no reason to believe his heart pre-engaged, be satisfied; if he is a man of honour, you'll have nothing to complain of.
• Letit. Nothing to complain of! Heav'ns! shall I marry the man I adore, with such an expectation as that?
• Mrs. Rack. And when you have fretted yourself pale, my dear, you'll bave mended your expectation greatly.
• Letit. (pausing.) Yet I have one hopé. If there is any power whose peculiar care is faithful love, that power I invoke to aid me.
• Enter Mr. Hardy. • Hardy. Well, now; wasn't I right? Aye, Letty! Aye, Coufin Racket! wasn't I right? I knew 'twould be so. He was all agog to see her before he went abroad ; and, if he had, he'd have thought no more of her face, may be, than his own. • Mrs. Rack. May be, not half so much.
Hardy. Aye, may be fo :--but I see into things; exactly as I foresaw, to-day he fell desperately in love with the wench, he he! • Letit. Indeed, Sir! how did you perceive it?
• Hardy. That's a pretty question? How do I perceive every thing? How did I foresee the fall of corn, and the rise of taxes ? How did i know, that if we quarrelled with America, Norway deals would be dearer? How did I forecel that a war would Gnk the fonds? How did I forewarn Parson Homily, that if he didn't some way or other coctrive to get more votes eban Rubrick, he'd lose the lectureship? How did I- But what the devil makes you so dull, Letitiai I thought to have found you popping about as brisk as the jacks of your harpsichord.
• Letit. Surely, Sir, 'ris a very serious occasion.
• Hardy. Pho, pho! girls should never be grave before marriage. How did you feel, Couan, beforehand ? Aye!
• Mrs. Rack. Feel, why exceedingly full of cares. • Hardy. Did you?
• Mrs. Rack. I could not deep for thinking of my coach, my liveries, and my chairmen; the taste of clothes I should be presented in,
diftracted me for a week; and whether I Thould be married in white or lilac, gave me the most cruel anxiety.
• Letit. And is it poffible that you felt no other care ? • Hardy. And pray, of what sort may your cares be, Mrs. Letitia ? I begia to foresee now that you have taken a dislike to Doricourt.
• Letit. Indeed, Sir, I have not.
• Hardy. Then what's all this melancholy about ? А’n't you going to be married ? and, what's more, to a sensible man? and, what's more to a young girl, to å handsome man? And what's all this me. lancholy for, I say?
Mrs. Rack. Why, becaufe he is handsome and sensible, and because she's over head and ears in love with him ; all which, it seems, your foreknowledge had not told you a word of.
• Letit. Fye, Caroline !
• Hardy. Well, come, do you tell me what's the matter then ? 'If you don't like bim, hang the figning and sealing, he fha'n't have ye ; and yet I can't say that neither; for you know that eftate, that coft his father and me upwards of four score thousand pounds, muft go all to him if you won't have him : if he won't have you, indeed, 'twill be all yours. All that's clear, engrofs'd uponi parchment, and the poor dear man set his hand to ic whilst he was a-dying.--"Ah!” said I, “I fore“ see you'll never live to see 'em come together; but their first son * Thall be christened Jeremiah after you, that I promise you:"-But come, I say, what is the matter? Don't you like him?
• Letit. I fear, Sir-if I muft fpeak I fear I was lefs agreeable in Mr. Doricourt's eyes, than he appeared in mine.
• Hardy. There you are mistaken; for I asked him, and he told me he liked you vastly. Don't you think he must have taken a fancy to her?
* Mrs. Rack. Why really I think fo; as I was not by.
• Lerit. My dear Sir, I am convinced he has not ; but if there is fpirit or invention in woman, he shall.
• Hardy. Right, Girl; go to your toilette
• Letit. It is not my toilette that can ferve me : but a plan has ftruck me, if you will not oppose it, which flatters me with brilliant fuccess.
• Hardy. Oppose it ! not I indeed! What is it?
• Letit. Why, Sir-it may seem a little paradoxical; but, as he does not like me enough, I want him to like me still less, and will at our next interview endeavour to heighten his indifference into dislike.
• Hardy. Who the devil could have foreseen that?
• Letit. As serious as the most important business of my life demands. • Mrs. Rack. Why endeavour to make him dislike you ?
Letit. Because 'ois much easier to convert a sentiment into ita oppolite, than to transform indifference into tender passion.
Mrs. Rack. That may be good philosophy; but I am afraid you'll find it a bad maxim.
• Letit. I have the strongest confidence in it. I am inspired with unusual spirits, and on this hazard willingly take my chance for happiness. I am impatient so begin my measures. Rev. April 1782.
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