the rapier and dagger, the successors of the far more manly sword and buckler, were as requisite to the equipment of a man of fashion as his cloak, or hat, or feathers; he would as willingly have been seen without one as the other. And he was most skilful, too, in the use of the rapier: it was an important part of his training. The schools of fence at this time were of much celebrity; there were various degrees taken in them, and prizes played for, as literary exercises are performed at the universities. All appeals or disputes were referred to four "Ancient Masters of Defence" appointed for the purpose. These schools were daily frequented by the young nobility, not only to acquire skill in the practical use of the weapon, but also in the art of interlarding his conversation with the multitudinous terms of fence, and shewing off in the complex divisions of the science.

"Oh, come not within distance! Martius speaks,
Who ne'er discourseth but of fencing feats,

Of counter-times, finctures, sly passataes,

Stramazones, resolute stoccates,

Of the quick change with wiping mandritta,
The carricado, with th' enbrocata.

'Oh, by Jesu, Sir,' (methinks I hear him cry)
The honourable fencing mystery

Who doth not honour?' Then falls he in again,
Jading our ears; and somewhat must be sain
Of blades, and rapier hilts, of surest guard,
Of Vincentio, and the Burgonians' ward."

Vincentio Saviolo was the author of one of the most celebrated works on the art, which is in two

books; the first called "His Practise," treats of the use of the rapier and dagger; the second, "Of Honour and Honourable Quarrels," begins thus:

1. A Rule and Order concerning the Challenger and Defender. 2. What the reason is, that the partie unto whom the lye is given, ought to become challenger and of the nature of lyes. 3. Of the manner and diversitie of lyes.

4. Of lyes certaine.

5. Of conditionall lyes.

6. Of the lye in generall.

7. Of the lye in particular.

8. Of foolish lyes.

9. A conclusion touching the challenger and the defender, and of the wresting and returning back of the lye, or dementie. 10. Of injuries rewarded or doubled.

11. That straight waies upon the lye, you must not take arms. Et cetera, &c. &c. to fifty-one heads.

It would seem after this that the following description has as much truth as satire in it :

Jaques. But for the seventh cause; how did you find the quarrel on the seventh cause?

Touchstone.-Upon a lie seven times removed: as thus, Sir I did dislike the cut of a certain courtier's beard; he sent me word, if I said his beard was not cut well, he was in the mind it was this is called the retort courteous. If I sent him word again, it was not well cut, he would send me word, he cut it to please himself: this is called the quip modest. If, again, it was not well cut, he disabled my judgment: this is called the reply churlish. If again it was not well cut, he would answer, I spake not true this is called the reproof valiant. If again it was not well cut, he would say, I lie: this is called the countercheck quarrelsome; and so to the lie circumstantial, and the lie direct,

Jaques. And how oft did you say his beard was not well cut? Touchstone. I durst go no further than the lie circumstantial; nor durst he give me the lie direct; and so we measured swords and parted.

Jaques. Can you nominate in order now the degrees of the lie? Touchstone.-O Sir, we quarrel in print, by the book, as you have books for good manners. I will name you the degrees: the first, the retort courteous; the second, the quip modest; the third, the reply churlish; the fourth, the reproof valiant; the fifth, the countercheck quarrelsome; the sixth, the lie with circumstance; the seventh, the lie direct. All these you may avoid, but the lie direct; and you may avoid that too, with an if."

During the reigns of which we treat, music was considered a necessary part of the education, not merely of ladies, but of gentlemen. It was probably a requisite qualification in a gentleman of the privy chamber+; and dancing, which an obscure author of that day so exquisitely terms "the mirth of feet," had long been a very favourite and important courtly amusement and requisite accomplishment. King James's children were all carefully instructed in music and dancing; Prince Henry's dancing was remarkably good; and the Earl of Strafford, the sacrificed friend of Charles the First, shews some anxiety about the latter accomplishment for his daughters. "Nan," he writes thus of them, “Nan, they tell me, danceth prettily; which I wish, if with convenience it might be, were not lost; Arabella is a small practitioner that way also."‡

Elizabeth's dancing is almost as celebrated as herself; a taste she seems to have inherited from her father, whose passion for that exercise was extreme. Is there any one who has not heard of her dancing

*As You Like It, act v. sc. 3. + Ellis's Ser. 2, vol. iii. p. 223.

Strafford Letters.