Newsffrom St. James's.

A courtier, summon'd hence of late, Was call'd to Minos' Judgment Seat. The Cretan Sage began the Charge, Recounted all his Crimes at large; His Insincerity, and Pride, His Hundred evil Arts beside; Arts, thinly veil'd with Virtue's Guise, The modern Statesmens Scheme to rise. He, cringing, owns his Guilt, with Shame; Yet from himself would shift the Blame; Insists, that since the World began, Kings seldom rais'd the virtuous Man: (Some Instances must be allow'd, Tho' almost lost in such a Croud) That Courts were other Things of late, Than when he rul'd the Cretan State: That those who breathe in them, will find, The tainted Air corrupts the Mind. Courtier, the Judge reply'd, beware-- Theander has resided there; The third of an accomplish'd Race, Who fill'd successively one Place: Yet see the Stream of Virtue run, Untainted down from Sire to Son: Humane their Hearts, enlarg'd, refin'd, With ev'ry Gift to bless their Kind; In Friendship's noblest Zeal sincere; In Honour amiably severe; Steady to Faith, and Truth, and Right; With open Honesty, polite; With no Disguise in Sptech, or Spirit, But Modesty, the Mask of Merit. True, Minos--yet you must agree, These Instances conclude for me. They uncorrupt have brearh'd that Air; But how have they succeeded there?