The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland (1753) eBook (2024)

The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland (1753) by Theodore Watts-Dunton

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Table of Contents
Section	Page
Start of eBook	1
VOL. I.	1
LIVES	1
THE LIVES OF THE POETS.	1
LANGLAND.	11
Sir JOHN GOWER	12
JOHN LYDGATE,	14
JOHN HARDING.	15
JOHN SKELTON	16
ALEXANDER BARCLAY.	18
HENRY HOWARD, Earl of SURRY	27
THOMAS SACKVILLE, Earl DORSET	33
THOMAS CHURCHYARD,	37
JOHN HEYWOOD	39
GEORGE FERRARS,	40
CHISTOPHER MARLOE	49
ROBERT GREEN	51
EDMUND SPENSER	53
JASPER HEYWOOD,	62
JOHN LILLY,	64
Sir THOMAS OVERBURY	66
JOHN MARSTEN.	70
WILLIAM SHAKESPEAR.	71
JOSHUA SYLVESTER,	83
SAMUEL DANIEL	84
THOMAS DECKER,	88
BEAUMONT and FLETCHER	89
Mr. JOHN FLETCHER	91
THOMAS LODGE	95
Sir JOHN DAVIES	97
THOMAS GOFF.	99
JOHN DAY.	103
Sir WALTER RALEIGH	104
DR. JOHN DONNE	117
MICHAEL DRAYTON	123
EDWARD FAIRFAX.	129
THOMAS RANDOLPH,	131
GEORGE CHAPMAN	133
BEN JOHNSON,	136
GERVASE MARKHAM.	155
THOMAS HEYWOOD	156
WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT,	159
GEORGE SANDYS,	161
Sir JOHN SUCKLING	168
PETER HAUSTED.	171
RICHARD CRASHAW.	195
WILLIAM ROWLEY.	197
THOMAS NASH.	197
JOHN FORD,	199
THOMAS MIDDLETON	200

VOL. I.

MDCCLIII.

Volume I.

Contains the

LIVES

O F

Chaucer
Langland
Gower
Lydgate
Harding
Skelton
Barclay
More
Surry Earl
Wyat
Sackville
Churchyard
Heywood
Ferrars
Sidney
Marloe
Green
Spenser
Heywood
Lilly
Overbury
Marsten
Shakespear
Sylvester
Daniel
Harrington
Decker
Beaumont and Fletcher
Lodge
Davies
Goff
Greville L. Brooke
Day
Raleigh
Donne
Drayton
Corbet
Fairfax
Randolph
Chapman
Johnson
Carew
Wotton
Markham
T. Heywood
Cartwright
Sandys
Falkland
Suckling
Hausted
Drummond
Stirling Earl
Hall
Crashaw
Rowley
Nash
Ford
Middleton

THE LIVES OF THE POETS.

* * * *

GEOFFRY CHAUCER.

It has been observed that men of eminence in all ages,and distinguished for the same excellence, have generallyhad something in their lives similar to each other.The place of Homer’s nativity, has not beenmore variously conjectured, or his parents more differentlyassigned than our author’s. Leland, wholived nearest to Chaucer’s time of all thosewho have wrote his life, was commissioned by kingHenry VIII, to search all the libraries, and religioushouses in England, when those archives were preserved,before their destruction was produced by the reformation,or Polydore Virgil had consumed such curious piecesas would have contradicted his framed and fabuloushistory. He for some reasons believed Oxford orBerkshire to have given birth to this great man, buthas not informed us what those reasons were that inducedhim to believe so, and at present there appears noother, but that the seats of his family were in thosecountries. Pitts positively asserts, without producingany authority to support it, that Woodstock was theplace; which opinion Mr. Camden seems to hint at,where he mentions that town; but it may be suspectedthat Pitts had no other ground for the assertion, thanChaucer’s mentioning Woodstock park in his works,and having a house there. But after all thesedifferent pretensions, he himself, in the Testamentof Love, seems to point out the place of his nativityto be the city of London, and tho’ Mr. Camdenmentions the claim of Woodstock, he does not givemuch credit to it; for speaking of Spencer (who wasuncontrovertedly born in London) he calls him fellowcitizen to Chaucer.

The descent of Chaucer is as uncertain, and unfixedby the critics, as the place of his birth. Mr.Speight is of opinion that one Richard Chaucer washis father, and that one Elizabeth Chaucer, a nun ofSt. Helen’s, in the second year of Richard ii.might have been his sister, or of his kindred.But this conjecture, says Urry,[1] seems very improbable;for this Richard was a vintner, living at the cornerof Kirton-lane, and at his death left his house, tavern,and stock to the church of St. Mary Aldermary, whichin all probability he would not have done if he hadhad any sons to possess his fortune; nor is it verylikely he could enjoy the family estates mentionedby Leland in Oxfordshire, and at the same time followsuch an occupation. Pitts asserts, that his fatherwas a knight; but tho’ there is no authorityto support this assertion, yet it is reasonable tosuppose that he was something superior to a commonemploy. We find one John Chaucer attending uponEdward iii. and Queen Philippa, in their expeditionto Flanders and Cologn, who had the King’s protectionto go over sea in the twelfth year of his reign.It is highly probable that this gentleman was fatherto our Geoffry, and the supposition is strengthenedby Chaucer’s first application, after leavingthe university and inns of law, being to the Court;nor is it unlikely that the service of the fathershould recommend the son.

It is universally agreed, that he was born in thesecond year of the reign of King Edward iii.A.D. 1328. His first studies were in the universityof Cambridge, and when about eighteen years of agehe wrote his Court of Love, but of what college hewas is uncertain, there being no account of him inthe records of the University. From Cambridgehe was removed to Oxford in order to compleat his studies,and after a considerable stay there, and a strict applicationto the public lectures of the university, he became(says Leland) “a ready logician, a smooth rhetorician,a pleasant poet, a great philosopher, an ingeniousmathematician, and a holy divine. That he wasa great master in astronomy, is plain by his discoursesof the Astrolabe. That he was versed in hermeticphilosophy (which prevailed much at that time), appearsby his Tale of the Chanons Yeoman: His knowledgein divinity is evident from his Parson’s Tale,and his philosophy from the Testament of Love.”Thus qualified to make a figure in the world, he lefthis learned retirement, and travelled into France,Holland, and other countries, where he spent someof his younger days. Upon his return he enteredhimself in the Inner Temple, where he studied themunicipal laws of the land. But he had not longprosecuted that dry study, till his superior abilitieswere taken notice of by some persons of distinction,by whole patronage he then approached the splendorof the court. The reign of Edward iii. wasglorious and successful, he was a discerning as wellas a fortunate Monarch; he had a taste as well for

erudition as for arms; he was an encourager of menof wit and parts, and permitted them to approach him,without reserve. At Edward’s court nothingbut gallantry and a round of pleasure prevailed, andhow well qualified our poet was to shine in the softcircles, whoever has read his works, will be at noloss to determine; but besides the advantages of hiswit and learning, he possessed those of person ina very considerable degree. He was then aboutthe age of thirty, of a fair beautiful complexion,his lips red and full, his size of a just medium,and his air polished and graceful, so that he unitedwhatever could claim the approbation of the Great,and charm the eyes of the Fair. He had abilitiesto record the valour of the one, and celebrate thebeauty of the other, and being qualified by his genteelbehaviour to entertain both, he became a finished courtier.The first dignity to which we find him preferred, wasthat of page to the king, a place of so much honourand esteem at that time, that Richard ii. leavesparticular legacies to his pages, when few othersof his servants are taken notice of. In the forty-firstyear of Edward iii. he received as a reward ofhis services, an annuity of twenty marks per ann.payable out of the Exchequer, which in those days wasno inconsiderable pension; in a year after he was advancedto be of his Majesty’s privy chamber, and avery few months to be his shield bearer, a title,at that time, (tho’ now extinct) of very greathonour, being always next the king’s person,and generally upon signal victories rewarded withmilitary honours. Our poet being thus eminentby his places, contracted friendships, and procuredthe esteem of persons of the first quality. QueenPhilippa, the Duke of Lancaster, and his duch*ess Blanch,shewed particular honour to him, and lady Margaretthe king’s daughter, and the countess of Pembrokegave him their warmest patronage as a poet. Inhis poems called the Romaunt, and the Rose, and Troilusand Creseide, he gave offence to some court ladiesby the looseness of his description, which the ladyMargaret resented, and obliged him to atone for it,by his Legend of good Women, a piece as chaste asthe others were luxuriously amorous, and, under thename of the Daisy, he veils lady Margaret, whom ofall his patrons he most esteemed.

Thus loved and honoured, his younger years were dedicatedto pleasure and the court. By the recommendationof the Dutchess Blanch, he married one Philippa Rouet,sister to the guardianess of her grace’s children,who was a native of Hainault: He was then aboutthirty years of age, and being fixed by marriage,the king began to employ him in more public and advantageousposts. In the forty-sixth year of his majesty’sreign, Chaucer was sent to Venice in commission withothers, to treat with the Doge and Senate of Genoa,about affairs of great importance to our state.The duke of Lancaster, whose favourite passion wasambition, which demanded the assistance of learned

men, engaged warmly in our poet’s interest; besides,the duke was remarkably fond of Lady Catherine Swynford,his wife’s sister, who was then guardianessto his children, and whom he afterwards made his wife;thus was he doubly attached to Chaucer, and with thevarying fortune of the duke of Lancaster we find himrise or fall. Much about this time, for his successfulnegociations at Genoa, the king granted to him byletters patent, by the title of Armiger Noster, onepitcher of wine daily in the port of London, and soonafter made him comptroller of the customs, with thisparticular proviso, that he should personally executethe office, and write the accounts relating to itwith his own hand. But as he was advanced to higherplaces of trust, so he became more entangled in theaffairs of state, the consequence of which provedvery prejudicial to him. The duke of Lancasterhaving been the chief instrument of raising him todignity, expected the fruits of those favours in aready compliance with him in all his designs.That prince was certainly one of the proudest andmost ambitious men of his time, nor could he patientlybear the name of a subject even to his father; nothingbut absolute power, and the title of king could satisfyhim; upon the death of his elder brother, Edward theblack prince, he fixed an eye upon the English crown,and seemed to stretch out an impatient hand to reachit. In this view he sought, by all means possible,to secure his interest against the decease of theold king; and being afraid of the opposition of theclergy, who are always strenuous against an irregularsuccession, he embraced the opinions and espousedthe interests of Wickliff, who now appeared at Oxford,and being a man of very great abilities, and muchesteemed at court, drew over to his party great numbers,as well fashionable as low people. In this confusion,the duke of Lancaster endeavoured all he could toshake the power of the clergy, and to procure votariesamongst the leading popular men. Chaucer had nosmall hand in promoting these proceedings, both byhis public interest and writings. Towards theclose of Edward’s reign, he was very active inthe intrigues of the court party, and so recommendedhimself to the Prince successor, that upon his ascendingthe throne, he confirmed to him by the title of DilectusArmiger Noster, the grant made by the late king oftwenty marks per annum, and at the same time confirmedthe other grant of the late King for a pitcher of wineto be delivered him daily in the port of London.In less than two years after this, we find our poetso reduced in his cirumstances, (but by what meansis unknown) that the King in order to screen him fromhis creditors, took him under his protection, andallowed him still to enjoy his former grants.The duke of Lancaster, whose restless ambition everexcited him to disturb the state, engaged now with,all the interest of which he was master to promotehimself to the crown; the opinions of Wickliff gainedground, and so great a commotion now prevailed amongstthe clergy, that the king perceiving the state in danger,and being willing to support the clerical interest,suffered the archbishop of Canterbury to summon Wickliffto appear before him, whose interest after this arraignmentvery much decayed.[2] The king who was devoted tohis pleasures, resigned himself, to some young courtierswho hated the duke of Lancaster, and caused a fryarto accuse him of an attempt to kill the king; butbefore he had an opportunity of making out the chargeagainst him, the fryar was murdered in a cruel andbarbarous manner by lord John Holland, to whose carehe had been committed. This lord John Holland,called lord Huntingdon, and duke of Exeter, was halfbrother to the King, and had married Elizabeth, daughterof the duke of Lancaster. He was a great patronof Chaucer, and much respected by him. With theduke of Lancaster’s interest Chaucer’salso sunk. His patron being unable to supporthim, he could no longer struggle against oppositeparties, or maintain his posts of honour. Theduke passing over sea, his friends felt all the maliceof an enraged court; which induced them to call ina number of the populace to assist them, of whichour poet was a zealous promoter. One John ofNorthampton, a late lord mayor of London was at thehead of these disturbances; which did not long continue;for upon beheading one of the rioters, and Northampton’sbeing taken into custody, the commotion subsided.Strict search was made after Chaucer, who escaped intoHainault; afterwards he went to France, and findingthe king resolute to get him into his hands, he fledfrom thence to Zealand. Several accomplices inthis affair were with him, whom he supported in theirexile, while the chief ringleaders, (except Northamptonwho was condemned at Reading upon the evidence ofhis clerk) had restored themselves to court favourby acknowledging their crime, and now forgot the integrityand resolution of Chaucer, who suffered exile to securetheir secrets; and so monstrously ungrateful were they,that they wished his death, and by keeping suppliesof money from him, endeavoured to effect it;—­Whilehe expended his fortune in removing from place toplace, and in supporting his fellow exiles, so farfrom receiving any assistance from England, his apartmentswere let, and the money received for rent was neveracccounted for to him; nor could he recover any fromthose who owed it him, they being of opinion it wasimpossible for him ever to return to his own country.The government still pursuing their resentment againsthim and his friends, they were obliged to leave Zealand,and Chaucer being unable to bear longer the calamitiesof poverty and exile, and finding no security whereverhe fled, chose rather to throw himself upon the lawsof his country, than perish abroad by hunger and oppression.He had not long returned till he was arrested by orderof the king, and confined in the tower of London.The court sometimes flattered him with the returnof the royal favour if he would impeach his accomplices,and sometimes threatened him with immediate destruction;their threats and promises he along while disregarded,but recollecting the ingratitude of his old friends,and the miseries he had already suffered, he at lastmade a confession, and according to the custom oftrials at that time, offered to prove the truth ofit by combat. What the consequence of this discoverywas to his accomplices, is uncertain, it no doubtexposed him to their resentment, and procured himthe name of a traytor; but the king, who regarded himas one beloved by his grandfather, was pleased topardon him. Thus fallen from a heighth of greatness,our poet retired to bemoan the fickleness of fortune,and then wrote his Testament of Love, in which aremany pathetic exclamations concerning the vicissitudeof human things, which he then bitterly experienced.But as he had formerly been the favourite of fortune,when dignities were multiplied thick upon him, sohis miseries now succeeded with an equal swiftness;he was not only discarded by his majesty, unpensioned,and abandoned, but he lost the favour of the dukeof Lancaster, as the influence of his wife’ssister with that prince was now much lessened.The duke being dejected with the troubles in whichhe was involved, began to reflect on his vicious courseof life, and particularly his keeping that lady ashis concubine; which produced a resolution of puttingher out of his house, and he made a vow to that purpose.Chaucer, thus reduced, and weary of the perpetualturmoils at court, retired to Woodstock, to enjoya studious quiet; where he wrote his excellent treatiseof the Astrolabe; but notwithstanding the severe treatmentof the government, he still retained his loyalty,and strictly enjoined his son to pray for the king.As the pious resolutions of some people are often theconsequence of a present evil, so at the return ofprosperity they are soon dissipated. This provedthe case with the duke of Lancaster: his partyagain gathered strength, his interest began to rise;upon which he took again his mistress to his bosom,and not content with heaping favours, honours, andtitles upon her, he made her his wife, procured anact of parliament to legitimate her children, whichgave great offence to the duch*ess of Gloucester, thecountess of Derby, and Arundel, as she then was entitledto take place of them. With her interest, Chaucer’salso returned, and after a long and bitter storm,the sun began to shine upon him with an evening ray;for at the sixty-fifth year of his age, the king grantedto him, by the title of Delectus Armiger Noster, anannuity of twenty marks per annum during his life,as a compensation for the former pension his needycirc*mstances obliged him to part with; but howeversufficient that might be for present support, yetas he was encumbered with debts, he durst not appearpublickly till his majesty again granted him his royalprotection to screen him from the persecution of hiscreditors; he also restored to him his grant of apitcher of wine daily, and a pipe annually, to bedelivered to him by his son Thomas, who that yearpossessed the office of chief butler to the king.

Now that I have mentioned his son, it will not beimproper, to take a view of our author’s domesticalaffairs, at least as far as we are enabled, by materialsthat have descended to our times.

Thomas his eldest son, was married to one of the greatestfortunes in England, Maud, daughter and heir of SirJohn Burgheershe, knight of the garter, and Dr. HenryBurghurshe bishop of Lincoln, chancellor and treasurerof England. Mr. Speight says this lady was givenhim in marriage by Edward iii. in return of hisservices performed in his embassies in France.His second son Lewis was born in 1381, for when hisfather wrote the treatise of the Astrolabe, he wasten years old; he was then a student in Merton collegein Oxford, and pupil to Nicholas Strade, but thereis no further account of him. Thomas who nowenjoyed the office of chief butler to his majesty,had the same place confirmed to him for life, by letterspatent to king Henry iv, and continued by HenryVI. In the 2d year of Henry iv, we find himSpeaker of the House of Commons, Sheriff of Oxfordshireand Berkshire, and Constable of Wallingford castleand Knaresborough castle during life. In the6th year of the same prince, he was sent ambassadorto France. In the 9th of the same reign the Commonspresented him their Speaker; as they did likewisein the 11th year. Soon after this Queen Jane,granted to him for his good service, the manor of Woodstock,Hannerborough and Wotten during life; and in the 13thyear, he was again presented Speaker as he was inthe 2d of Henry V, and much about that time he wassent by the king, to treat of a marriage with Catherinedaughter to the duke of Burgundy; he was sent againambassador to France, and passed thro’ a greatmany public stations. Mr. Stebbing says thathe was knighted, but we find no such title given himin any record. He died at Ewelm, the chief placeof his residence, in the year 1434. By his wifeMaud he had one daughter named Alice, who was thricemarried, first to Sir John Philips, and afterwardsto Thomas Montacute earl of Salisbury: her thirdhusband was the famous William de la Pole, duke ofSuffolk, who lost his head by the fury of the Yorkists,who dreaded his influence in the opposite party, tho’he stood proscribed by the parliament of Henry VI.for misguiding that easy prince. Their son Johnhad three sons, the second of whom, Edmund, forfeitedhis life to the crown for treason against Henry vii,by which means the estates which Chaucer’s familypossessed came to the crown. But to return toour poet: By means of the duke of Lancaster’smarriage with his sister in law, he again grew to aconsiderable share of wealth; but being now about seventyyears of age, and fatigued with a tedious view ofhurried greatness, he quitted the stage of grandeurwhere he had acted so considerable a part with variedsuccess, and retired to Dunnigton castle[3] near Newbury,to reflect at leisure upon past transactions in the

still retreats of contemplation. In this retirementdid he spend his few remaining years, universallyloved and honoured; he was familiar with all men oflearning in his time, and contracted friendship withpersons of the greatest eminence as well in literatureas politics; Gower, Occleve, Lidgate, Wickliffe weregreat admirers, and particular friends of Chaucer;besides he was well acquainted with foreign poets,particularly Francis Petrarch the famous Italian poet,and refiner of the language. A Revolution inEngland soon after this happened, in which we findChaucer but little concerned; he made no mean complimentsto Henry iv, but Gower his cotemporary, thoughthen very old, flattered the reigning prince, andinsulted the memory of his murdered Sovereign.All acts of parliament and grants in the last reignbeing annulled, Chaucer again repaired to Court toget fresh grants, but bending with age and weakness,tho’ he was successful in his request, the fatigueof attendance so overcame him, that death preventedhis enjoying his new possessions. He died the25th of October in the year 1400, in the second ofHenry iv, in the 72d of his age, and bore theshock of death with the same fortitude and resignationwith which he had undergone a variety of pressures,and vicissitudes of fortune.

Dryden says, he was poet laureat to three kings, butUrry is of opinion that Dryden must be mistaken, asamong all his works not one court poem is to be found,and Selden observes, that he could find no poet honouredwith that title in England before the reign of Edwardiv, to whom one John Kaye dedicated the Siegeof Rhodes in prose by the title of his Humble PoetLaureat.

I cannot better display the character of this greatman than in the following words of Urry. “Asto his temper, says he, he had a mixture of the gay,the modest and the grave. His reading was deepand extensive, his judgment sound and discerning;he was communicative of his knowledge, and ready tocorrect or pass over the faults of his cotemporarywriters. He knew how to judge of and excuse theslips of weaker capacities, and pitied rather thanexposed the ignorance of that age. In one word,he was a great scholar, a pleasant wit, a candid critic,a sociable companion, a stedfast friend, a great philosopher,a temperate oeconomist, and a pious christian.”As to his genius as a poet, Dryden (than whom a higherauthority cannot be produced) speaking of Homer andVirgil, positively asserts, that our author exceededthe latter, and stands in competition with the former.

His language, how unintelligible soever it may seem,is almost as modern as any of his cotemporaries, orof those who followed him at the distance of 50 or60 years, as Harding, Skelton and others, and in someplaces it is so smooth and beautiful, that Dryden wouldnot attempt to alter it; I shall now give some accountof his works in the order in which they were written,so far as can be collected from them, and subjoina specimen of his poetry, of which profession as hemay justly be called the Morning Star, so as we descendinto later times; we may see the progress of poetryin England from its great original, Chaucer, to itsfull blaze, and perfect consummation in Dryden.

Mr. Philips supposes a greater part of his works tobe lost, than what we have extant of him; of thatnumber may be many a song, and many a lecherous lay,which perhaps might have been written by him whilehe was a student at Cambridge.

The Court of Love, as has been before observed, waswritten while he resided at Cambridge in the 18thyear of his age.

The Craft Lovers was written in the year of our Lord,1348, and probably the Remedy of Love was writtenabout that time, or not long after.

The Lamentation of Mary Magdalen taken from Origen,was written by him in his early years, and perhapsBoethius de Consolatione Philosophiae was translatedby him about the same time.

The Romaunt of the Rose, is a translation from theFrench: this poem was begun by William de Lerris,and continued by John de Meun, both famous Frenchpoets; it seems to have been translated about thetime of the rise of Wickliffe’s Opinions, itconsisting of violent invectives against religiousorders.

The Complaint of the Black Knight, during John ofGaunt’s courtship with Blanch is supposed tobe written on account of the duke of Lancaster’smarriage.

The poem of Troilus and Creseide was written in theearly part of his life, translated (as he says) fromLollius an historiographer in Urbane in Italy; hehas added several things of his own, and borrowedfrom others what he thought proper for the embellishmentof this work, and in this respect was much indebtedto his friend Petrarch the Italian poet.

The House of Fame; from this poem Mr. Pope acknowledgeshe took the hint of his Temple of Fame.

The book of Blaunch the duch*ess, commonly called theDreme of Chaucer, was written upon the death of thatlady.

The Assembly of Fowls (or Parlement of Briddis, ashe calls it in his Retraction) was written beforethe death of queen Philippa.

The Life of St. Cecilia seems to have been first asingle poem, afterwards made one of his CanterburyTales which is told by the second Nonne: andso perhaps was that of the Wife of Bath, which headvises John of Gaunt to read, and was afterwards insertedin his Canterbury Tales.

The Canterbury Tales were written about the year 1383.It is certain the Tale of the Nonnes Priest was writtenafter the Insurrection of Jack Straw and Wat Tyler.

The Flower and the Leaf was written by him in thePrologue to the Legend of Gode Women.

Chaucer’s ABC, called la Priere de nostre Dame,was written for the use of the duch*ess Blaunch.

The book of the Lion is mentioned in his Retraction,and by Lidgate in the prologue to the Fall of Princes,but is now lost, as is that.

De Vulcani vene, i. e. of the Brocke of Vulcan, whichis likewise mentioned by Lidgate.

La belle Dame sans Mercy, was translated from theFrench of Alain Chartier, secretary to Lewis xi,king of France.

The Complaint of Mars and Venus was translated fromthe French of Sir Otes de Grantson, a French poet.

The Complaint of Annilida to false Arcite.

The Legend of Gode Women (called the Assembly of Ladies,and by some the Nineteen Ladies) was written to obligethe queen, at the request of the countess of Pembroke.

The treatise of the Conclusion of the Astrolabie waswritten in the year 1391.

Of the Cuckow and Nightingale, this seems by the descriptionto have been written at Woodstock.

The Ballade beginning In Feverre, &c. was a complimentto the countess of Pembroke.

Several other ballads are ascribed to him, some ofwhich are justly suspected not to have been his.The comedies imputed to him are no other than hisCanterbury Tales, and the tragedies were those themonks tell in his Tales.

The Testament of Love was written in his trouble thelatter part of his life.

The Song beginning Fly fro the Prese, &c. was writtenin his death-bed.

Leland says, that by the content of the learned inhis time, the Plowman’s Tale was attributedto Chaucer, but was suppressed in the edition thenextant, because the vices of the clergy were exposedin it. Mr. Speight in his life of Chaucer, printedin 1602, mentions a tale in William Thynne’sfirst printed book of Chaucer’s works more odiousto the clergy than the Plowman’s Tale. Onething must not be omitted concerning the works ofChaucer. In the year 1526 the bishop of Londonprohibited a great number of books which he thoughthad a tendency to destroy religion and virtue, asdid also the king in 1529, but in so great esteemwere his works then, and so highly valued by the peopleof taste, that they were excepted out of the prohibitionof that act.

The pardoners prologue.

Lordings! quoth he, in chirch when I preche,
I paine mee to have an have an hauteinespeche;
And ring it out, as round as doth a bell;
For I can all by rote that I tell.
My teme is always one, and ever was,
(Radix omnium malorum est cupiditas)
First, I pronounce fro whence I come,
And then my bills, I shew all and some:
Our liege—­lords seal on mypatent!
That shew I first, my body to warrent;
That no man be so bold, priest ne clerk,
Me to disturb of Christ’s holy werke;
And after that I tell forth my tales,
Of bulls, of popes, and of cardinales,
Of patriarkes, and of bishops I shew;
And in Latin I speake wordes a few,

To faver with my predication,
And for to stere men to devotion,
Then shew I forth my long, christall stones,
Ycrammed full of clouts and of bones;
Relickes they been, as were they, echone!
Then have I, in Latin a shoder-bone,
Which that was of an holy Jewes shepe.
Good men, fay, take of my words kepe!
If this bone be washen in any well,

If cow, or calfe, shepe, or oxe swell
That any worm hath eaten, or hem strong,
Take water of this well, and wash histong.
And it is hole a-non: And furthermore,
Of pockes, and scabs, and every sore
Shall shepe be hole, that of this well
Drinketh a draught: Take keep ofthat I tell!
If that the good man, that beasts oweth,
Woll every day, ere the co*cke croweth,
Fasting drink of this well, a draught,
(As thilk holy Jew our elders taught)
His beasts and his store shall multiplie:
And sirs, also it healeth jealousie,
For, though a man be fall in jealous rage,
Let make with this Water his potage,
And never shall he more his wife mistrist,
Thughe, in sooth, the defaut by her wist:
All had she taken priests two or three!
Here is a mittaine eke, that ye may see.
He that has his hand well put in thismittaine;
He shall have multiplying of his graine,
When he hath sowen, be it wheat or otes;
So that he offer good pens or grotes!

Those who would prefer the thoughts of this fatherof English poetry, in a modern dress, are referredto the elegant versions of him, by Dryden, Pope, andothers, who have done ample justice to their illustriouspredecessor.

[Footnote 1: Life of Chaucer prefixed to Ogle’sedition of that author modernized.]

[Footnote 2: Some biographers of Chaucer say,that pope Gregory IX. gave orders to the archbishopof Canterbury to summon him, and that when a synodwas convened at St. Paul’s, a quarrel happenedbetween the bishop of London and the duke of Lancaster,concerning Wickliff’s sitting down in theirpresence.]

[Footnote 3: Mr. Camden gives a particular descriptionof this castle.]

* * * * *

LANGLAND.

It has been disputed amongst the critics whether thispoet preceded or followed Chaucer. Mrs. Cooper,author of the Muses Library, is of opinion that hepreceded Chaucer, and observes that in more placesthan one that great poet seems to copy Langland; butI am rather inclined to believe that he was cotemporarywith him, which accounts for her observation, andmy conjecture is strengthened by the considerationof his stile, which is equally unmusical and obsoletewith Chaucer’s; and tho’ Dryden has toldus that Chaucer exceeded those who followed him at50 or 60 years distance, in point of smoothness, yetwith great submission to his judgment, I think thereis some alteration even in Skelton and Harding, whichwill appear to the reader to the best advantage bya quotation. Of Langland’s family we haveno account. Selden in his notes on Draiton’sPoly Olbion, quotes him with honour; but he is entirelyneglected by Philips and Winstanly, tho’ heseems to have been a man of great genius: BesidesChaucer, few poets in that or the subsequent age had

more real inspiration or poetical enthusiasm in theircompositions. One cannot read the works of thisauthor, or Chaucer, without lamenting the unhappinessof a fluctuating language, that buries in its ruinseven genius itself; for like edifices of sand, everybreath of time defaces it, and if the form remain,the beauty is lost. The piece from which I shallquote a few lines, is a work of great length and labour,of the allegoric kind; it is animated with a livelyand luxurious imagination; pointed with a varietyof pungent satire; and dignified with many excellentlessons of morality; but as to the conduct of thewhole, it does not appear to be of a piece; every visionseems a distinct rhapsody, and does not carry on eitherone single action or a series of many; but we oughtrather to wonder at its beauties than cavil at itsdefects; and if the poetical design is broken, themoral is entire, which, is uniformly the advancementof piety, and reformation of the Roman clergy.The piece before us is entitled the Vision of Piersthe Plowman, and I shall quote that particular partwhich seems to have furnished a hint to Milton in hisParadise Lost, b. 2. 1. 475.

Kinde Conscience tho’ heard,and came out of
the planets,
And sent forth his sorrioues, fevers, and fluxes,
Coughes, and cardicales, crampes and toothaches,
Reums, and ragondes, and raynous scalles,
Byles, and blothes, and burning agues,
Freneses, and foul euyl, foragers of kinde!
* * * * *
There was harrow! and help! here cometh Kinde
With death that’s dreadful, to undone us all
Age the hoore, he was in vaw-ward
And bare the baner before death, by right he it
claymed!
Kinde came after, with many kene foxes,
As pockes, and pestilences, and much purple
shent;
So Kinde, through corruptions killed full many:
Death came driving after, and all to dust pashed
Kyngs and bagaars, knights and popes.

* * * * * Milton.

----------Immediately a placeBefore his eyes appear’d, sad, noisom, dark,A lazar-house it seem’d; wherein were laid

Numbers of all diseased: all maladies
Of ghastly spasm, or racking torture,qualms
Of heartsick agony, all fev’rouskinds,
Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs,
Intestine stone and ulcer, cholic-pangs
Demoniac phrenzy, moping melancholy
And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy,
Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence,
Dropsies and asthmas, and joint-rackingrheums;
Dire was the tossing! deep the groans!despair
Tended the sick, busiest from couch tocouch:
And over them, triumphant death his dart
Shook. P. L. b. xi. 1. 477.

* * * * *

Sir JOHN GOWER

Flourished in the reign of Edward iii, and Richardii. He was cotemporary with Chaucer andmuch esteemed and honoured by him, as appears by hissubmitting his Troilus and Cressida to his censure.Stow in his Survey of London seems to be of opinionthat he was no knight, but only an esquire; however,it is certain he was descended of a knightly family,at Sittenham in Yorkshire. He received his educationin London, and studied the law, but being possessedof a great fortune, he dedicated himself more to pleasureand poetry than the bar; tho’ he seems not tohave made any proficiency in poetry, for his worksare rather cool translations, than originals, and arequite destitute of poetical fire. Bale makeshim Equitem Auratum & Poetam Laureatum, but Winstanlysays that he was neither laureated nor bederated,but only rosated, having a chaplet of four roses abouthis head in his monumental stone erected in St. MaryOvery’s, Southwark: He was held in greatesteem by King Richard ii, to whom he dedicatesa book called Confessio Amantis. That he wasa man of no honour appears by his behaviour when therevolution under Henry iv happened in England.He was under the highest obligations to Richard ii;he had been preferred, patronized and honoured byhim, yet no sooner did that unhappy prince (who owedhis misfortunes in a great measure to his generosityand easiness of nature) fall a sacrifice to the policyof Henry and the rage of rebellion, but he worshipedthe Rising Sun, he joined his interest with the newking, and tho’ he was then stone-blind, and,as might naturally be imagined, too old to desireeither riches or power, yet he was capable of the grossestflattery to the reigning prince, and like an ungratefulmonster insulted the memory of his murdered sovereignand generous patron. He survived Chaucer twoyears; Winstanly says, that in his old age he was madea judge, possibly in consequence of his adulationto Henry iv. His death happened in the year1402, and as he is said to have been born some yearsbefore Chaucer, so he must have been near fourscoreyears of age: He was buried in St. Mary Overy’sin Southwark, in the chapel of St. John, where hefounded a chauntry, and left money for a mass to bedaily sung for him, as also an obit within the churchto be kept on Friday after the feast of St. Gregory.He lies under a tomb of stone, with his image alsoof stone over him, the hair of his head auburn, longto his shoulders, but curling up, and a small forkedbeard; on his head a chaplet like a coronet of roses;an habit of purple, damasked down to his feet, anda collar of gold about his neck. Under his feetthe likeness of three books which he compiled; thefirst named Speculum Meditantis, written in French;the second Vox Clamantis, in latin; the third ConfessioAmantis, in English; this last piece was printed byone Thomas Berthalette, and by him dedicated to KingHenry VIII. His Vox clamantis, with his ChronicaTripartita, and other works, both in Latin and French,Stow says he had in his possession, but his SpeculumMeditantis he never saw. Besides on the wallwhere he lies, there were painted three virgins crowned,one of which was named Charity, holding this device,

En toy quies fitz de Dieu le pere,
Sauve soit, qui gist fours cest pierre.

The second writing mercy, with this device;

O bene Jesu fait ta mercy,
A’lame, dont la corps gisticy.

The third writing pity, with this decree;

Pour ta pitie Jesu regarde,
Et met cest a me, en sauve garde.

His arms were in a Field Argent, on a Chevron Azure,three Leopards heads or, their tongues Gules, twoAngels supporters, and the crest a Talbot.

His epitaph.

Armigeri soltum nihil a modo fert sibitutum,
Reddidit immolutum morti generale tributum,
Spiritus exutum se gaudeat esse solutum
Est ubi virtutum regnum sine labe eststatum.

I shall take a quotation from a small piece of hiscalled the Envious Man and the Miser; by which itwill appear, that he was not, as Winstanley says,a refiner of our language, but on the other hand,that poetry owes him few or no obligations.

Of the Envious man and the miser.

Of Jupiter thus I find ywrite,
How, whilom, that he woulde wite,
Upon the plaintes, which he herde
Among the men, how that it farde,
As of her wronge condition
To do justificacion.
And, for that cause, downe he sent
An angel, which aboute went,
That he the sooth knowe maie.

Besides the works already mentioned our poet wrotethe following:

De Compunctione Cordi, in one book.

Chronicon Ricardi secundi.

Ad Henricum Quartum, in one book.

Ad eundem de Laude Pacis, in one book.

De Rege Henrico, quarto, in one book.

De Peste Vitiorum, in one book.

Scrutinium Lucis, in one book.

De Regimine Principum.

De Conjugii Dignitate.

De Amoris Varietate.

* * * * *

JOHN LYDGATE,

Commonly called the monk of Bury, because a nativeof that place. He was another disciple and admirerof Chaucer, and it must be owned far excelled hismaster, in the article of versification. Aftersometime spent in our English universities, he travelledthro’ France and Italy, improving his time tothe accomplishment of learning the languages and arts.Pitseus says, he was not only an elegant poet, andan eloquent rhetorician, but also an expert mathematician,an acute philosopher, and no mean divine. Hisverses were so very smooth, and indeed to a modernear they appear so, that it was said of him by hiscontemporaries, that his wit was framed and fashionedby the Muses themselves. After his return fromFrance and Italy, he became tutor to many noblemen’ssons, and for his excellent endowments was much esteemedand reverenced by them. He writ a poem calledthe Life and Death of Hector, from which I shall givea specimen of his versification.

I am a monk by my profession
In Bury, called John Lydgate by my name,
And wear a habit of perfection;
(Although my life agree not with the same)
That meddle should with things spiritual,
As I must needs confess unto you all.

But seeing that I did herein proceed
At[1] his commands whom I could not refuse,
I humbly do beseech all those that read,
Or leisure have this story to peruse,
If any fault therein they find to be,
Or error that committed is by me,

That they will of their gentleness takepain,
The rather to correct and mend the same,
Than rashly to condemn it with disdain,
For well I wot it is not without blame,
Because I know the verse therein is wrong
As being some too short, and some toolong.

His prologue to the story of Thebes, a tale (as hesays) he was constrained to tell, at the command ofhis host of the Tabard in Southwark, whom he foundin Canterbury with the rest of the pilgrims who wentto visit St. Thomas’s shrine, is remarkably smoothfor the age in which he writ. This story wasfirst written in Latin by Chaucer, and translatedby Lydgate into English verse, Pitseus says he writ,partly in prose and partly in verse, many exquisitelearned books, amongst which are eclogues, odes, andsatires. He flourished in the reign of HenryVI. and died in the sixtieth year of his age, ann.1440. and was buried in his own convent at Bury, withthis epitaph,

Mortuus saeclo, superis superstes,
Hic jacet Lydgate tumulatus urna:
Qui suit quondam celebris Britannae,
Fama poesis.

Which is thus rendered into English by Winstanly;

Dead in this world, living above the sky,
Intomb’d within this urn doth Lydgatelie;
In former times fam’d for his poetry,
All over England.

[Footnote 1: K. Henry V.]

* * * * *

JOHN HARDING.

John Harding, the famous English Chronologer, wasborn (says Bale) in the Northern parts, and probablyYorkshire, being an Esquire of an eminent parentage.He was a man addicted both to arms and arts, in theformer of which he seems to have been the greatestproficient: His first military exploit was underRobert Umsreuil, governor of Roxborough Castle, wherehe distinguished himself against the Scots, beforewhich the King of Scotland was then encamped, and unfortunatelylost his life. He afterwards followed the standardof Edward iv. to whose interest both in prosperityand distress he honourably adhered. But whatendeared him most to the favour of that Prince, andwas indeed the masterpiece of his service, was hisadventuring into Scotland, and by his courteous insinuatingbehaviour, so far ingratiating himself into the favourof their leading men, that he procured the privilegeof looking into their records and original letters,

a copy of which he brought to England and presentedto the King. This successful achievement establishedhim in his Prince’s affections, as he was solicitousto know how often the Kings of Scotland had takenoaths of fealty and subjected themselves to the EnglishMonarchs in order to secure their crown. Thesesubmissions are warmly disputed by the Scotch historians,who in honour of their country contend that they wereonly yielded for Cumberland and some parcels of landpossessed by them in England south of Tweed; and indeedwhen the warlike temper and invincible spirit of thatnation is considered, it is more than probable, thatthe Scotch historians in this particular contend onlyfor truth. Our author wrote a chronicle in verseof all our English Kings from Brute to King Edwardiv. for which Dr. Fuller and Winstanly bestowgreat encomiums upon him; but he seems to me to betotally destitute of poetry, both from the wretchednessof his lines, and the unhappiness of his subject, achronicle being of all others the driest, and the leastsusceptible of poetical ornament; but let the readerjudge by the specimen subjoined. He died aboutthe year 1461, being then very aged. From Gowerto Barclay it must be observed, that Kings and Princeswere constantly the patrons of poets.

On the magnificent houshold of King Richard ii,

Truly I herd Robert Irelese say,
Clark of the Green Cloth, and that tothe houshold,
Came every day, forth most part alway,
Ten thousand folk by his messes told;
That followed the house, aye as they wold,
And in the kitchen, three hundred scruitours,
And in eche office many occupiours,
And ladies faire, with their gentlewomen
Chamberers also, and launderers,
Three hundred of them were occupied then;
There was great pride among the officers,
And of all men far passing their compeers,
Of rich arraye, and much more costous,
Then was before, or sith, and more precious.

* * * * *

JOHN SKELTON

Was born of an ancient family in Cumberland, he receivedhis education at Oxford, and entering into holy orderswas made rector of Dysso in Norfolk in the reign ofHenry VIII. tho’ more probably he appeared firstin that of Henry vii. and may be said to be thegrowth of that time. That he was a learned manErasmus has confirmed, who in his letter to King HenryVIII. stileth him, Britanicarum Literarum Lumen &Decus: Tho’ his stile is rambling and loose,yet he was not without invention, and his satire isstrongly pointed. He lived near fourscore yearsafter Chaucer, but seems to have made but little improvementin versification. He wrote some bitter satiresagainst the clergy, and particularly, his keen reflectionson Cardinal Wolsey drew on him such severe prosecutions,that he was obliged to fly for sanctuary to Westminster,

under the protection of Islip the Abbot, where he diedin the year 1529. It appears by his poem entitled,The Crown of Laurel, that his performances were numerous,and such as remain are chiefly these, Philip Sparrow,Speak Parrot, the Death of King Edward iv, aTreatise of the Scots, Ware the Hawk, the Tunning ofElianer Rumpkin. In these pieces there is a veryrich vein of wit and humour, tho’ much debasedby the rust of the age he lived in. His satiresare remarkably broad, open and ill-bred; the versecramped by a very short measure, and encumbered withsuch a profusion of rhimes, as makes the poet appearalmost as ridiculous as those he endeavours to expose.In his more serious pieces he is not guilty of thisabsurdity; and confines himself to a regular stanza,according to the then reigning mode. His Bougeof Court is a poem of some merit: it abounds withwit and imagination, and shews him well versed inhuman nature, and the insinuating manners of a court.The allegorical characters are finely described, andwell sustained; the fabric of the whole I believeentirely his own, and not improbably may have the honourof furnishing a hint even to the inimitable Spencer.How or by whose interest he was made Laureat, or whetherit was a title he assumed to himself, cannot be determined,neither is his principal patron any where named; butif his poem of the Crown Lawrel before mentioned hasany covert meaning, he had the happiness of havingthe Ladies for his friends, and the countess of Surry,the lady Elizabeth Howard, and many others unitedtheir services in his favour. When on his death-bedhe was charged with having children by a mistresshe kept, he protected that in his conscience he kepther in the notion of a wife: And such was hiscowardice, that he chose rather to confess adulterythan own marriage, a crime at that time more subjectedto punishment than the other.

The prologue to the Bouge courts.

In autumne, whan the sunne in vyrgyne,
By radyante hete, enryped hath our corne,
When Luna, full of mucabylyte,
As Emperes the dyademe hath worne
Of our Pole artyke, smylynge half in scorne,
At our foly, and our unstedfastnesse,
The tyme when Mars to warre hym did dres

I, callynge to mynde the greatauctoryte
Of poetes olde, whiche full craftely,
Under as couerte termes as coulde be,
Can touche a trouthe, and cloke subtylly
With fresh Utterance; full sentcyously,
Dyverse in style: some spared notvyce to wryte,
Some of mortalitie nobly dyd endyte.

His other works, as many as could be collected arechiefly these:

Meditations on St. Ann.

--------on the Virgin of Kent.

Sonnets on Dame Anne,

Elyner Rummin, the famous alewife of England, oftenprinted, the last edition 1624.

The Peregrinations of human Life.

Solitary Sonnets.

The Art of dying well.

--------Speaking eloquently.

Manners of the Court.

Invective against William Lyle the Grammarian.

Epitaphs on Kings, Princes, and Nobles,

Collin Clout.

Poetical Fancies and Satires.

Verses on the Death of Arthur Prince of Wales.

* * * * *

ALEXANDER BARCLAY.

He was an author of some eminence and merit, tho’there are few things preserved concerning him, andhe has been neglected by almost all the biographersof the poets. That excellent writer Mrs. Cooperseems to have a pretty high opinion of his abilities;it is certain that he very considerably refined thelanguage, and his verses are much smoother than thoseof Harding, who wrote but a few years before him.He stiles himself Priest, and Chaplain in the Collegeof St. Mary, Otory, in the county of Devon, and afterwardsMonk of Ely. His principal work is a translationof a satirical piece, written originally in high Dutch,and entitled the Ship of Fools: It exposes thecharacters, vices, and follies of all degrees of men,and tho’ much inferior in its execution to theCanterbury Tales, has yet considerable merit, especiallywhen it is considered how barren and unpolite theage was in which he flourished. In the prologueto this he makes an apology for his youth, and itappears that the whole was finished Anno Dom.-1508,which was about the close of the reign of Henry vii.In elegancy of manners he has the advantage of allhis predecessors, as is particularly remarkable inhis address to Sir Giles Alington, his patron.The poet was now grown old, and the knight desiringhim to abridge and improve Gower’s ConfessioAmantis, he declines it in the politest manner, onaccount of his age, profession, and infirmities; ‘buttho’ love is an improper subject, ’sayshe, I am still an admirer of the sex, and shall ’introduceto the honour of your acquaintance, ’four ofthe finest ladies that nature ever framed, ‘Prudence,Temperance, Justice, and Magnanimity;’ the wholeof the address is exceeding courtly, and from thisI shall quote a few lines, which will both illustratehis politeness and versification

To you these accorde; these unto you aredue, Of you late proceeding as of their head fountayne;Your life as example in writing I ensue, For,more then my writing within it can contayne:Your manners performeth and doth there attayne:So touching these vertues, ye have in your livingMore than this my meter conteyneth in writing.My dities indited may counsell many one, But notyou, your maners surmounteth my doctrine Wherefore,I regard you, and your maners all one, Afterwhose living my processes, I combine: So othermen instrusting, I must to you encline Conformingmy process, as much as I am able, To your sad behaviourand maners commendable.

He was author of the following pieces.

Lives of several of the Saints.

Salust’s History of the Jugurthiam war translatcdinto English.

The Castle of Labour, translated from the French intoEnglish.

Bale gives this author but an indifferent characteras to his morals; he is said to have intrigued withwomen, notwithstanding his clerical profession:It is certain he was a gay courtly man, and perhaps,tho’ he espoused the Church in his profession,he held their celebacy and pretended chastity in contempt,and being a man of wit, indulged himself in thosepleasures, which seem to be hereditary to the poets.

* * * * *

Sir Thomas more.

Tho’ poetry is none of the excellencies in whichthis great man was distinguished, yet as he wrotesome verses with tolerable spirit, and was in almostevery other respect one of the foremost geniusses ournation ever produced, I imagine a short account ofhis life here will not be disagreable to the readers,especially as all Biographers of the Poets beforeme have taken notice of him, and ranked him amongstthe number of Bards. Sir Thomas More was bornin Milk-street, London, A.D. 1480. He was sonto Sir John More, Knight, and one of the Justicesof the King’s-Bench, a man held in the highestesteem at that time for his knowledge in the law andhis integrity in the administration of justice.It was objected by the enemies of Sir Thomas, thathis birth was obscure, and his family mean; but farotherwise was the real case. Judge More bore armsfrom his birth, having his coat of arms quartered,which proves his having come to his inheritance bydescent. His mother was likewise a woman of family,and of an extraordinary virtue.

Doctor Clement relates from the authority of our authorhimself, a vision which his mother had, the next nightafter her marriage. She thought she saw in hersleep, as it were engraven in her wedding ring, thenumber and countenances of all the children she wasto have, of whom the face of one was so dark and obscure,that she could not well discern it, and indeed sheafterwards suffered an untimely delivery of one ofthem: the face of the other she beheld shiningmost gloriously, by which the future fame of Sir Thomaswas pre-signified. She also bore two daughters.But tho’ this story is told with warmth by hisgreat grandson, who writes his life, yet, as he wasa Roman Catholic, and and disposed to a superstitiousbelief in miracles and visions, there is no greatstress to be laid upon it. Lady More might perhapscommunicate this vision to her son, and he have embracedthe belief of it; but it seems to have too littleauthority, to deserve credit from posterity.

Another miracle is related by Stapleton, which issaid to have happened in the infancy of More.His nurse one day crossing a river, and her horsestepping into a deep place, exposed both her and thechild to great danger. She being more anxiousfor the safety of the child than her own, threw himover a hedge into a field adjoining, and escapinglikewise from the imminent danger, when she came totake him up, she found him quite unhurt and smilingsweetly upon her.

He was put to the free-school in London called St.Anthony’s, under the care of the famous NicholasHolt, and when he had with great rapidity acquireda knowledge of his grammar rules, he was placed byhis father’s interest under the great CardinalMerton, archbishop of Canterbury, and Lord High Chancellor,whose gravity and learning, generosity and tenderness,allured all men to love and honour him. To himMore dedicated his Utopia, which of all his works isunexceptionably the most masterly and finished.The Cardinal finding himself too much incumbered withbusiness, and hurried with state affairs to superintendhis education, placed him in Canterbury College inOxford, whereby his assiduous application to books,his extraordinary temperance and vivacity of wit,he acquired the first character among the students,and then gave proofs of a genius that would one daymake a great blaze in the world. When he was buteighteen years old such was the force of his understanding,he wrote many epigrams which were highly esteemedby men of eminence, as well abroad as at home.Beatus Rhenanus in his epistle to Bilibalus Pitchemerus,passes great encomiums upon them, as also Leodgariusa Quercu, public reader of humanity at Paris.One Brixius a German, who envied the reputation ofthis young epigramatist, wrote a book against theseepigrams, under the title of Antimorus, which had noother effect than drawing Erasmus into the field,who celebrated and honoured More; whose high patronagewas the greatest compliment the most ambitious writercould expect, so that the friendship of Erasmus wascheaply purchased by the malevolence of a thousandsuch critics as Brixius. About the same timeof life he translated for his exercise one of Lucian’sorations out of Greek into Latin, which he calls hisFirst Fruits of the Greek Tongue; and adds anotheroration of his own to answer that of Lucian; for ashe had defended him who had slain a tyrant, he opposedagainst it another with such forcible arguments, thatit seems not to be inferior to Lucian’s, eitherin invention or eloquence: When he was abouttwenty years old, finding his appetites and passionsvery predominant. He struggled with all the heroismof a christian against their influence, and inflictedsevere whippings and austere mortifications upon himselfevery friday and on high fasting days, left his sensualitywould grow too insolent, and at last subdue his reason.But notwithstanding all his efforts, finding his lustsready to endanger his soul, he wisely determined tomarry, a remedy much more natural than personal inflictions;and as a pattern of life, he proposed the exampleof a singular lay-man, John Picas Earl of Mirandula,who was a man famous for chastity, virtue, and learning.He translated this nobleman’s life, as alsomany of his letters, and his twelve receipts of goodlife, which are extant in the beginning of his Englishworks. For this end he also wrote a treatise ofthe four last things, which he did not quite finish,being called to other studies.

At his meals he was very abstemious, nor ever eatbut of one dish, which was most commonly powderedbeef, or some such saltmeat. In his youth heabstained wholly from wine; and as he was temperatein his diet, so was he heedless and negligent in hisapparel. Being once told by his secretary Mr.Harris, that his shoes were all torn, he bad him tellhis man to buy him new ones, whose business it wasto take care of his cloaths, whom for this cause hecalled his tutor. His first wife’s namewas Jane Cole, descended of a genteel family, who borehim four children, and upon her decease, which innot many years happened, he married a second timea widow, one Mrs. Alice Middleton, by whom he hadno children. This he says he did not to indulgehis passions (for he observes that it it harder tokeep chastity in wedlock than in a single life,) butto take care of his children and houshold affairs.Upon what principle this observation is founded, Icannot well conceive, and wish Sir Thomas had givenhis reasons why it is harder to be chaste in a marriedthan single life. This wife was a worldly mindedwoman, had a very indifferent person, was advancedin years, and possessed no very agreeable temper.Much about this time he became obnoxious to Henryvii for opposing his exactions upon the people.Henry was a covetous mean prince, and entirely devotedto the council of Emson and Dudley, who then werevery justly reckoned the caterpillars of the state.The King demanded a large subsidy to bestow on hiseldest daughter, who was then about to be married toJames iv. of Scotland. Sir Thomas beingone of the burgesses, so influenced the lower houseby the force of his arguments, (who were cowardly enoughbefore not to oppose the King) that they refused thedemands, upon which Mr. Tiler of the King’sPrivy-Chambers went presently to his Majesty, andtold him that More had disappointed all their expectations,which circ*mstance not a little enraged him againstMore. Upon this Henry was base enough to picka quarrel without a cause against Sir John More, hisvenerable father, and in revenge to the son, clapthim in the Tower, keeping him there prisoner till hehad forced him to pay one hundred pounds of a fine,for no offence. King Henry soon after dying,his son who began his reign with some popular acts,tho’ afterwards he degenerated into a monstroustyrant, caused Dudley and Emson to be impeached ofhigh treason for giving bad advice to his father;and however illegal such an arraignment might be,yet they met the just fate of oppressors and traitorsto their country.

About the year 1516, he composed his famous book calledthe Utopia, and gained by it great reputation.Soon after it was published, it was translated bothinto French and Italian, Dutch and English. Dr.Stapleton enumerates the opinions of a great many learnedmen in its favour. This work tho’ not writin verse, yet in regard of the fancy and inventionemployed in composing it, may well enough pass for

an allegorical poem. It contains the idea ofa compleat Commonwealth in an imaginary island, (pretendedto be lately discovered in America) and that so wellcounterfeited, that many upon reading it, mistook itfor a real truth, in so much (says Winstanly) thatsome learned men, as Budeus, Johannes Plaudanus, outof a principle of fervent zeal, wished that some excellentdivines might be sent hither to preach Christ’sGospel.

Much about the same time he wrote the history of Richardiii. which was likewise held in esteem; theseworks were undertaken when he was discharged fromthe business of the state.

Roper, in his life of our author, relates that uponan occasion in which King Henry VIII. and the Popewere parties in a cause tryed in the Star Chamber,Sir Thomas most remarkably distinguished himself,and became so great a favourite with that discerningmonarch, that he could no longer forbear calling himinto his service.

A ship of the Pope’s, by the violence of a stormwas driven into Southampton, which the King claimedas a forfeiture; when the day of hearing came on beforethe Lord High Chancellor, and other Judges, More arguedso forcibly in favour of the Pope, that tho’the Judges had resolved to give it for the King, yetthey altered their opinion, and confirmed the Pope’sright. In a short time after this, he was createda Knight, and after the death of Mr. Weston, he wasmade Treasurer of the Exchequer, and one of the PrivyCouncil. He was now Speaker of the House of Commons,and thus exalted in dignity, the eyes of the nationwere fixed upon him. Wolsey, who then governedthe realm, found himself much grieved by the Burgesses,because all their transactions were so soon made public,and wanting a fresh subsidy, came to the house inperson to complain of this usage. When the burgessesheard of his coming, it was long debated whether theyshould admit him or no, and Sir Thomas strongly urgedthat he should be admitted, for this reason, thatif he shall find fault with the spreading of our secrets,(says he) we may lay the blame upon those his Gracebrought with him. The proud Churchman having enteredthe House, made a long speech for granting the subsidy,and asked several of the Members opinion concerningit; they were all so confounded as not to be ableto answer, and the House at last resolved that theirSpeaker should reply for them. Upon this Sir Thomasshewed that the cardinal’s coming into the Housewas unprecedented, illegal, and a daring insult onthe liberty of the burgesses, and that the subsidydemanded was unnecessary; upon which Wolsey suddenlydeparted in a rage, and ever after entertained suspicionsof More, and became jealous of his great abilities.Our author’s fame was not confined to Englandonly; all the scholars and statesmen in every countryin Europe had heard of, and corresponded with him,but of all strangers he had a peculiar esteem forErasmus, who took a journey into England in order

to converse with him, and enter more minutely intothe merit of one whose learning he had so high anopinion of. They agreed to meet first at my LordMayor’s table, and as they were personally unknown,to make the experiment whether they could discoverone another by conversation. They met accordingly,and remained some hours undiscovered; at last an argumentwas started in which both engaged with great keenness,Erasmus designedly defended the unpopular side, butfinding himself so strongly pressed, that he couldhold it no longer, he broke out in an extasy, auttu es Morus, aut Nullus. Upon which More replied,aut tu es Erasmus, aut Diabolus, as at that time Erasmuswas striving to defend very impious propositions, inorder to put his antagonist’s strength to theproof.

When he lived in the city of London as a justice ofpeace, he used to attend the sessions at Newgate.There was then upon the bench a venerable old judge,who was very severe against those who had their pursescut; (as the phrase then was) and told them that itwas by their negligence that so many purse-cutterscame before him. Sir Thomas, who was a greatlover of a joke, contrived to have this judge’spurse cut from him in the sessions house by a felon.When the felon was arraigned, he told the court, thatif he were permitted to speak to one of the judgesin private, he could clear his innocence to them;they indulged him in his request, and he made choiceof this old judge, and while he whispered somethingin his ear, he slily cut away his purse; the judgereturned to the bench, and the felon made a sign toSir Thomas of his having accomplished the scheme.Sir Thomas moved the court, that each of them shouldbestow some alms on a needy person who then stoodfalsly accused, and was a real object of compassion.The motion was agreed to, and when the old man cameto put his hand in his purse, he was astonished tofind it gone, and told the court, that he was surehe had it when he came there. What, says Morein a pleasant manner, do you charge any of us withfelony? the judge beginning to be angry, our facetiousauthor desired the felon, to return his purse, andadvised the old man never to be so bitter againstinnocent men’s negligence, when he himself couldnot keep his purse safe in that open assembly.

Although he lived a courtier, and was much concernedin business, yet he never neglected his family athome, but instructed his daughters in all useful learning,and conversed familiarly with them; he was remarkablyfond of his eldest daughter Margaret, as she had agreater capacity, and sprightlier genius than therest. His children often used to translate outof Latin, into English, and out of English into Latin,and Dr. Stapleton observes, that he hath seen an apologyof Sir Thomas More’s to the university of Oxford,in defence of learning, turned into Latin by one ofhis daughters, and translated again into English byanother. Margaret, whose wit was superior to therest, writ a treatise on the four last things, whichSir Thomas declared was finer than his; she composedseveral Orations, especially one in answer to Quintilian,defending a rich man, which he accused for havingpoisoned a poor man’s bees with certain venomousflowers in his garden, so eloquent and forcible thatit may justly rival Quintilian himself. She alsotranslated Eusebius out of Greek.

Tho’ Sir Thomas was thus involved in publicaffairs and domestic concerns, yet he found leisureto write many books, either against Heretics, or ofa devotional cast; for at that time, what he reckonedHeresy began to diffuse itself over all Germany andFlanders. He built a chapel in his parish churchat Chelsea, which he constantly attended in the morning;so steady was he in his devotion. He hired a housealso for many aged people in the parish, which he turnedinto an hospital, and supported at his own expence.He at last rose to the dignity of Lord High Chancellorupon the fall of Wolsey, and while he sat as the ChiefJudge of the nation in one court, his father, agedupwards of 90, sat as Chief Justice in the King’sBench; a circ*mstance which never before, nor eversince happened, of a father being a Judge, and hisson a Chancellor at the same time. Every day,as the Chancellor went to the Bench, he kneeled beforehis father, and asked his blessing. The peoplesoon found the difference between the intolerablepride of Wolsey, and the gentleness and humility ofMore; he permitted every one to approach him withoutreserve; he dispatched business with great assiduity,and so cleared the court of tedious suits, that hemore than once came to the Bench, and calling for acause, there was none to try. As no dignity couldinspire him with pride, so no application to the mostimportant affairs could divert him from sallies ofhumour, and a pleasantry of behaviour. It oncehappened, that a beggar’s little dog which shehad lost, was presented to lady More, of which mewas very fond; but at last the beggar getting noticewhere the dog was, she came to complain to Sir Thomasas he was sitting in his hall, that his lady withheldher dog from her; presently my lady was sent for,and the dog brought with her, which he taking in hishand, caused his wife to stand at the upper end ofthe hall, and the beggar at the other; he then badeach of them call the dog, which when they did, thedog went presently to the beggar, forsaking my lady.When he saw this, he bad my lady be contented forit was none of hers. My Lord Chancellor then gavethe woman a piece of gold, which would have boughtten such dogs, and bid her be careful of it for thefuture.

A friend of his had spent much time in composing abook, and went to Sir Thomas to have his opinion ofit; he desired him to turn it into rhime; which atthe expence of many years labour he at last accomplished,and came again to have his opinion: Yea marry,says he, now it is somewhat; now it is rhime, butbefore it was neither rhime nor reason.

But fortune, which had been long propitious to ourauthor, began now to change sides, and try him aswell with affliction as prosperity, in both whichcharacters, his behaviour, integrity and courage wereirreproachable. The amorous monarch King HenryVIII, at last obtained from his Parliament and Councila divorce from his lawful wife, and being passionatelyfond of Anna Bullen, he married her, and declaredher Queen of England: This marriage Sir Thomashad always opposed, and held it unlawful for his Sovereignto have another wife during his first wife’slife. The Queen who was of a petulant disposition,and elated with her new dignity could not withholdher resentment against him, but animated all her relations,and the parties inclined to the protestant interest,to persecute him with rigour. Not long after thedivorce, the Council gave authority for the publicationof a book, in which the reasons why this divorce wasgranted were laid down; an answer was soon published,with which Sir Thomas More was charged as the author,of which report however he sufficiently cleared himselfin a letter to Mr. Cromwel, then secretary, and agreat favourite with King Henry. In the parliamentheld in the year 1534, there was an oath, framed,called the Oath of Supremacy, in which all Englishsubjects should renounce the pope’s authority,and swear also to the succession of Queen Ann’schildren, and lady Mary illegitimate. This oathwas given to all the clergy as well bishops as priests,but no lay-man except Sir Thomas More was desiredto take it; he was summoned to appear at Lambeth beforearchbishop Cranmer, the Lord Chancellor Audley, Mr.Secretary Cromwel, and the abbot of Westminster, appointedcommissioners by the King to tender this oath.More absolutely refused to take it, from a principleof conscience: and after various expostulationshe was ordered into the custody of the abbot of Westminster;and soon after he was sent to the tower, and the lieutenanthad strict charge to prevent his writing, or holdingconversation with any persons but those sent by thesecretary. The Lord Chancellor, duke of Norfolk,and Mr. Cromwel paid him frequent visits, and pressed:him to take the oath, which he still refused.About a year after his commitment to the tower, bythe importunity of Queen Ann, he was arraign’dat the King’s Bench Bar, for obstinately refusing,the oath of supremacy, and wilfully and obstinatelyopposing the King’s second marriage. Hewent to the court leaning on his staff, because hehad been much weakened by his imprisonment; his judgeswere, Audley, Lord Chancellor; Fitz James, Chief Justice;Sir John Baldwin, Sir Richard Leister, Sir John Port,Sir John Spelman, Sir Walter Luke, Sir Anthony Fitzherbert:The King’s attorney opened against him witha very opprobrious libel; the chief evidence wereMr. secretary Cromwell, to whom he had uttered somedisrespectful expressions of the King’s authority,the duke of Suffolk and earl of Wiltshire: He

replied to the accusation with great composure andstrength of argument; and when one Mr. Rich swore againsthim, he boldly asserted that Rich was perjured, andwished he might never see God’s Countenancein mercy, if what he asserted was not true; besidesthat, Rich added to perjury, the baseness of betrayingprivate conversation. But notwithstanding hisdefence, the jury, who were composed of creaturesof the court, brought in their verdict, guilty; andhe had sentence of death pronounced against him, whichhe heard without emotion. He then made a longspeech addressed to the Chancellor, and observed toMr. Rich, that he was more sorry for his perjury,than for the sentence that had just been pronouncedagainst him: Rich had been sent by the secretaryto take away all Sir Thomas’s books and papers,during which time some conversation passed, whichRich misrepresented in order to advance himself inthe King’s favour. He was ordered againto the Tower till the King’s pleasure shouldbe known. When he landed at Tower Wharf, hisfavourite daughter Margaret, who had not seen himsince his confinement, came there to take her lastadieu, and forgetting the bashfulness and delicacyof her sex, press’d thro’ the multitude,threw her arms about her father’s neck and oftenembraced him; they had but little conversation, andtheir parting was so moving, that all the spectatorsdissolved in tears, and applauded the affection andtenderness of the lady which could enable her to takeher farewel under so many disadvantages.

Some time after his condemnation Mr. secretary Cromwelwaited on Sir Thomas, and entreated him to accepthis Majesty’s pardon, upon the condition oftaking the oath, and expressed great tenderness towardshim. This visit and seeming friendship of Cromwelnot a little affected him, he revolved in his mindthe proposal which he made, and as his fate was approaching,perhaps his resolution staggered a little, but callingto mind his former vows, his conscience, his honour,he recovered himself again, and stood firmly preparedfor his fall. Upon this occasion it was thathe wrote the following verses, mentioned both by Mr.Roper and Mr. Hoddeson, which I shall here insertas a specimen of his poetry.

Ey flattering fortune, loke thou neverso fayre,
Or never so pleasantly begin to smile,
As tho’ thou would’st my ruineall repayre,
During my life thou shalt not me begile,
Trust shall I God to entre in a while
His haven of heaven sure and uniforme,
Ever after thy calme loke I for a storme.

On the 6th of July, 1534, in the 54th year of hisage, the sentence of condemnation was executed uponhim on Tower Hill, by severing his head from his body.As he was carried to the scaffold, some low peoplehired by his enemies cruelly insulted him, to whomhe gave cool and effectual answers. Being nowunder the scaffold, he looked at it with great calmness,and observing it too slenderly built, he said merrily

to Mr. Lieutenant, “I pray you, Sir, see me safeup, and for my coming down let me shift for myself.”When he mounted on the scaffold, he threw his eyesround the multitude, desired them to pray for him,and to bear him witness that he died for the holy catholicchurch, a faithful servant both to God and the King.His gaiety and propension to jesting did not forsakehim in his last moments; when he laid his head uponthe block, he bad the executioner stay till he hadremoved aside his beard, saying, “that that hadnever committed treason.” When the executionerasked his forgiveness, he kissed him and said, “thouwilt do me this day a greater benefit than any mortalman can be able to give me; pluck up thy spirit man,and be not afraid to do thy office, my neck is veryshort, take heed therefore that thou strike not awryfor saving thy honesty.”

Thus by an honest but mistaken zeal fell Sir ThomasMore; a man of wit and parts superior to all his contemporariesof integrity unshaken; of a generous and noble disposition;of a courage intrepid; a great scholar and a devoutchristian. Wood says that he was but an indifferentdivine, and that he was very ignorant of antiquityand the learning of the fathers, but he allows himto be a man of a pleasant and fruitful imagination,and a statesman beyond any that succeeded him.

His works besides those we have already mentionedare chiefly these,

A Merry Jest, How a Serjeant will learn to play aFriar, written in verse.

Verses on the hanging of a Painted Cloth in his Father’sHouse.

Lamentations on Elizabeth Queen of Henry vii,1503.

Verses on the Book of Fortune.

Dialogue concerning Heresies.

Supplication of Souls, writ in answer to a book calledthe
Supplication of Beggars.

A Confutation of Tindal’s Answer to More’sDialogues, printed 1533.

The Debellation of Salem and Bizance, 1533.

In answer to another book of Tindal’s.

Treatise on the Passion of Chrift.

——­Godly Meditation.

------Devout Prayer.

Letters while in the Tower, all printed 1557.

Progymnasmata.

Responsio ad Convitia Martini Lutheri, 1523.

Quod pro Fide Mors fugienda non est, written in theTower 1534.

Precationes ex Psalmis.

* * * * *

HENRY HOWARD, Earl of SURRY

Was son of Thomas, duke of Norfolk, and Elizabeth,daughter of Edward, duke of Buckingham. The fatherof our author held the highest places under King HenryVIII, and had so faithfully and bravely served him,that the nobility grew jealous of his influence, andby their united efforts produced his ruin. Aftermany excellent services in France, he was constitutedLord Treasurer, and made General of the King’swhole army design’d to march against the Scots:

At the battle of Flodden, in which the Scots wererouted and their Sovereign slain, the earl of Surryremarkably distinguished himself; he commanded underhis father, and as soon as the jealousy of the Peershad fastened upon the one, they took care that theother should not escape. He was the first nobleman(says Camden) that illustrated his high birth withthe beauty of learning; he was acknowledged by all,to be the gallantest man, the politest lover, andthe most compleat gentleman of his time. He receivedhis education at Windsor with a natural son of HenryVIII, and became first eminent for his devotion tothe beautiful Geraldine, Maid of Honour to Queen Catherine;the first inspired him with poetry, and that poetryhas conferred immortality on her: So transportedwas he with his passion, that he made a tour to themost elegant courts in Europe, to maintain her peerlessbeauty against all opposers, and every where madegood his challenge with honour. In his way toFlorence, he touched at the emperor’s court,where he became acquainted with the learned CorneliusAgrippa, so famous for magic, who shewed him the imageof his Geraldine in a glass, sick, weeping on herbed, and melting into devotion for the absence of herlord; upon sight of this he wrote the following passionatesonnet, which for the smoothness of the verse, thetenderness of expression, and the heartfelt sentimentsmight do honour to the politest, easiest, most passionatepoet in our own times.

All soul, no earthly flesh, why dost thoufade? All gold; no earthly dross, why look’stthou pale? Sickness how darest thou oneso fair invade? Too base infirmity to workher bale. Heaven be distempered since she grievedpines, Never be dry, these my sad plaintive lines.

Pearch thou my spirit on her silver breasts,And with their pains redoubled musick beatings,Let them toss thee to world where all toil rests,Where bliss is subject to no fears defeatings, Herpraise I tune, whose tongue doth tune the spheres,And gets new muses in her hearers ears.

Stars fall to fetch fresh light from therich eyes, Her bright brow drives the fun to cloudsbeneath. Her hair reflex with red strakes paintsthe skyes, Sweet morn and evening dew flows fromher breath: Phoebe rules tides, she my tearstides forth draws. In her sick bed lovefits, and maketh laws.

Her dainty lips tinsel her silk-soft sheets,Her rose-crown’d cheeks eclipse my dazled sight.O glass with too much joy, my thoughts thou greets,And yet thou shewest me day but by twilight.I’ll kiss thee for the kindness I have felt.Her lips one kiss would into nectar melt.

From the emperor’s court he went to the cityof Florence, the pride and glory of Italy, in whichcity his beauteous Geraldine was born, and he hadno rest till he found out the house of her nativity,and being shewn the room where his charmer first drew

air, he was transported with extasy of joy, his tongueoverflowed with her praises, and Winstanly says heeclipsed the sun and moon with comparisons of hisGeraldine, and wrote another sonnet in praise of thechamber that was honoured (as he says) with her radiantconception; this sonnet is equally amorous and spiritedwith that already inserted. In the duke of Florence’scourt he published a proud challenge against all comers,whether Christians, Turks, Canibals, Jews, or Saracens,in defence of his mistress’s beauty; this challengewas the better received there, as she whom he defendedwas born in that city: The duke of Florence howeversent for him, and enquired of his fortune, and theintent of his coming to his court; of which when theearl informed him, he granted to all countries whatever,as well enemies and outlaws, as friends and allies,free access into his dominions unmolested till thetrial were ended.

In the course of his combats for his mistress, hisvalour and skill in arms so engaged the Duke to hisinterest, that he offered him the highest prefermentsif he would remain at his court. This proposalhe rejected, as he intended to proceed thro’all the chief cities in Italy; but his design wasfrustrated by letters sent by King Henry VIII. whichcommanded his speedy return into England.

In the year 1544, upon the expedition to Boulognein France, he was made field marshal of the Englisharmy, and after taking that town, being then knightof the garter, he was in the beginning of September1545 constituted the King’s lieutenant, and captain-generalof all his army within the town and county of Boulogne[1].During his command there in 1546, hearing that a convoyof provisions of the enemy was coming to the fortat Oultreaw, he resolved to intercept it; but theRhinegrave, with four thousand Lanskinets, togetherwith a considerable number of French under the deBieg, making an obstinate defence, the English wererouted, Sir Edward Poynings with divers other gentlemenkilled, and the Earl himself obliged to fly, tho’it appears, by a letter to the King dated January8, 1548, that this advantage cost the enemy a greatnumber of men. But the King was so highly displeasedwith this ill success, that from that time he contracteda prejudice against the Earl, and soon after removedhim from his command, and appointed the Earl of Hertfordto succeed him. Upon which Sir William Page wroteto the Earl of Surry to advise him to procure someeminent post under the Earl of Hertford, that he mightnot be unprovided in the town and field. The Earlbeing desirous in the mean time to regain his formerfavour with the King, skirmished with the French androuted them, but soon after writing over to the King’scouncil that as the enemy had cast much larger cannonthan had been yet seen, with which they imagined theyshould soon demolish Boulogne, it deserved considerationwhether the lower town should stand, as not beingdefensible; the council ordered him to return to England

in order to represent his sentiments more fully uponthose points, and the Earl of Hertford was immediatelysent over in his room. This exasperating theEarl of Surry, occasioned him to let fall some expressionswhich favoured of revenge and dislike to the King,and a hatred of his Councellors, and was probably onecause of his ruin, which soon after ensued. TheDuke of Norfolk, who discovered the growing powerof the Seymours, and the influence they were likelyto bear in the next reign, was for making an alliancewith them; he therefore pressed his son to marry theEarl of Hertford’s daughter, and the Dutchessof Richmond, his own daughter, to marry Sir ThomasSeymour; but neither of these matches were effected,and the Seymours and Howards then became open enemies.The Seymours failed not to inspire the King with anaversion to the Norfolk-family, whose power they dreaded,and represented the ambitious views of the Earl ofSurry; but to return to him as a poet.

That celebrated antiquary, John Leland, speaking ofSir Thomas Wyat the Elder, calls the Earl, ’Theconscript enrolled heir of the said Sir Thomas, inhis learning and other excellent qualities.’The author of a treatise, entitled, ’The Artof English Poetry, alledges, that Sir Thomas Wyatthe Elder, and Henry Earl of Surry were the two chieftains,who having travelled into Italy, and there tasted thesweet and stately measures and stile of the Italianpoetry, greatly polished our rude and homely mannerof vulgar poetry, from what it had been before, andtherefore may be justly called, The Reformers of ourEnglish Poetry and Stile.’ Our noble authoradded to learning, wisdom, fortitude, munificence,and affability. Yet all these excellencies ofcharacter, could not prevent his falling a sacrificeto the jealousy of the Peers, or as some say to theresentment of the King for his attempting to wed thePrincess Mary; and by these means to raise himselfto the Crown. History is silent as to the reasonswhy the gallantries he performed for Geraldine didnot issue in a marriage. Perhaps the reputationhe acquired by arms, might have enflamed his soulwith a love of glory; and this conjecture seems themore probable, as we find his ambition prompting himto make love to the Princess from no other views butthose of dominion. He married Frances, daughterto John Earl of Oxford, after whose death he addressedPrincess Mary, and his first marriage, perhaps, mightbe owing to a desire of strengthening his interest,and advancing his power in the realm. The addingsome part of the royal arms to his own, was also madea pretence against him, but in this he was justifiedby the heralds, as he proved that a power of doingso was granted by some preceeding Monarchs to hisforefathers. Upon the strength of these suspicionsand surmises, he and his father were committed to theTower of London, the one by water, the other by land,so that they knew not of each other’s apprehension.The fifteenth day of January next following he wasarraigned at Guildhall, where he was found guilty bytwelve common jurymen, and received judgment.About nine days before the death of the King he losthis head on Tower-Hill; and had not that Monarch’sdecease so soon ensued, the fate of his father waslikewise determined to have been the same with hissons.

It is said, when a courtier asked King Henry why hewas so zealous in taking off Surry; “I observedhim, says he, an enterprizing youth; his spirit wastoo great to brook subjection, and ‘tho’I can manage him, yet no successor of mine will everbe able to do so; for which reason I have dispatchedhim in my own time.”

He was first interred in the chapel of the Tower,and afterwards in the reign of King James, his remainswere removed to Farmingam in Suffolk, by his secondson Henry Earl of Northampton, with this epitaph.

Henrico Howardo, Thomae secundi Ducis Norfolciae filioprimogenito. Thomae tertii Patri, Comiti Surriae,& Georgiani Ordinis Equiti Aurato, immature Anno Salutis1546 abrepto. Et Franciscae Uxoris ejus, filiaeJohannis Comitis Oxoniae. Henricus Howardus ComesNorthamptoniae filius secundo genitus, hoc supremumpietatis in parentes monumentum posuit, A.D. 1614.

Upon the accession of Queen Mary the attainder wastaken off his father, which circ*mstance has furnishedsome people with an opportunity to say, that the princesswas fond of, and would have married, the Earl of Surry.I shall transcribe the act of repeal as I find itin Collins’s Peerage of England, which has somethingsingular enough in it.

’That there was no special matter in the Actof Attainder, but only general words of treason andconspiracy: and that out of their care for thepreservation of the King and the Prince they passedit, and this Act of Repeal further sets forth, thatthe only thing of which he stood charged, was forbearing of arms, which he and his ancestors had bornwithin and without the kingdom in the King’spresence, and sight of his progenitors, as they mightlawfully bear and give, as by good and substantialmatter of record it did appear. It also added,that the King died after the date of the commission;likewise that he only empowered them to give his consent;but did not give it himself; and that it did not appearby any record that they gave it. Moreover, thatthe King did not sign the commission with his own hand,his stamp being only set to it, and that not to theupper part, but to the nether part of it, contraryto the King’s custom.’

Besides the amorous and other poetical pieces of thisnoble author, he translated Virgil’s AEneid,and rendered (says Wood) the first, second, and thirdbook almost word for word:—­All the Biographersof the poets have been lavish, and very justly, inhis praise; he merits the highest encomiums as therefiner of our language, and challenges the gratitudeand esteem of every man of literature, for the generousassistance he afforded it in its infancy, and his readyand liberal patronage to all men of merit in his time.

[Footnote 1: Dugdale’s Baronage.]

* * * * *

Sir Thomas Wyat.

Was distinguished by the appellation of the Elder,as there was one of the same name who raised a rebellionin the time of Queen Mary. He was son to HenryWyat of Alington-castle in Kent. He received therudiments of his education at Cambridge, and was afterwardsplaced at Oxford to finish it. He was in greatesteem with King Henry VIII. on account of his witand Love Elegies, pieces of poetry in which he remarkablysucceeded. The affair of Anne Bullen came on,when he made some opposition to the King’s passionfor her, that was likely to prove fatal to him; butby his prudent behaviour, and retracting what he hadformerly advanced, he was restored again to his royalpatronage. He was cotemporary with the Earl ofSurry, who held him in high esteem. He travelledinto foreign parts, and as we have observed in theEarl of Surry’s life, he added something towardsrefining the English stile, and polishing our numbers,tho’ he seems not to have done so much in thatway as his lordship. Pitts and Bale have entirelyneglected him, yet for his translation of David’sPsalms into English metre and other poetical works,Leland scruples not to compare him with Dante andPetrarch, by giving him this ample commendation.

Let Florence fair her Dantes justly boast,
And royal Rome, her Petrarchs numberedfeet,
In English Wyat both of them doth coast:
In whom all graceful eloquence doth meet.

Leland published all his works under the title ofNaenia. Some of his Biographers (Mrs. Cooperand Winstanley) say that he died of the plague ashe was going on an embassy to the Emperor Charles V.but Wood asserts, that he was only sent to Falmo bythe King to meet the Spanish ambassador on the road,and conduct him to the court, which it seems demandedvery great expedition; that by over-fatiguing himself,he was thrown into a fever, and in the thirty-eighthyear of his age died in a little country-town in England,greatly lamented by all lovers of learning and politeness.In his poetical capacity, he does not appear to havemuch imagination, neither are his verses so musicaland well polished as lord Surry’s. Thoseof gallantry in particular seem to be too artificialand laboured for a lover, without that artless simplicitywhich is the genuine mark of feeling; and too stiff,and negligent of harmony for a His letters to JohnPoynes and Sir Francis Bryan deserve more notice,they argue him a man of great sense and honour, acritical observer of manners and well-qualified foran elegant and genteel satirist. These letterscontain observations on the Courtier’s Life,and I shall quote a few lines as a specimen, by whichit will be seen how much he falls short of his noblecotemporary, lord Surry, and is above those writersthat preceded him in versification.

The courtiers life.

In court to serve decked with fresh araye,
Of sugared meats seling the sweet repast,
The life in blankets, and sundry kindsof playe,
Amidst the press the worldly looks towaste,
Hath with it joyned oft such bitter taste,
That whoso joys such kind of life to holde,
In prison joys, fetter’d with chainsof golde.

* * * * *

THOMAS SACKVILLE, Earl DORSET

Was son of Richard Sackville and Winifrede, daughterof Sir John Bruges, Lord of London.[1] He was bornat Buckhurst in the parish of Withiam in Suffex, andfrom his childhood was distinguished for wit and manlybehaviour: He was first of the University of Oxford,but taking no degree there, he went to Cambridge,and commenced master of arts; he afterwards studiedthe law in the Inner-Temple, and became a barrister;but his genius being too lively to be confined to adull plodding study, he chose rather to dedicate hishours to poetry and pleasure; he was the first thatwrote scenes in verse, the Tragedy of Ferrex and Perrex,sons to Gorboduc King of Britain, being performedin the presence of Queen Elizabeth, long before Shakespearappeared[2] on the stage, by the Gentlemen of theInner-Temple, at Whitehall the 18th of January, 1561,which Sir Philip Sidney thus characterises: “Itis full of stately speeches, and well founding phrases,climbing to the height of Seneca’s stile, andas full of notable morality, which it doth most delightfullyteach, and so obtain the very end of poetry.”In the course of his studies, he was most delightedwith the history of his own country, and being likewisewell acquainted with antient history, he formed adesign of writing the lives of several great personagesin verse, of which we have a specimen in a book published1610, called the Mirror of Magistrates, being a trueChronicle History of the untimely falls of such unfortunateprinces and men of note, as have happened since thefirst entrance of Brute into this Island until hisown time. It appears by a preface of RichardNicolls, that the original plan of the Mirror of Magistrateswas principally owing to him, a work of great labour,use and beauty. The induction, from which I shallquote a few lines, is indeed a master-piece, and ifthe-whole could have been compleated in the same manner,it would have been an honour to the nation to thisday, nor could have sunk under the ruins of time;but the courtier put an end to the poet; and one cannothelp wishing for the sake of our national reputation,that his rise at court had been a little longer delayed:It may easily be seen that allegory was brought togreat perfection before the appearance of Spencer,and if Mr. Sackville did not surpass him, it was becausehe had the disadvantage of writing first. Agreeableto what Tasso exclaimed on seeing Guarini’s PastorFido; ’If he had not seen my Aminta, he hadnot excelled it.’

Our author’s great abilities being distinguishedat court, he was called to public affairs: Inthe 4th and 5th years of Queen Mary we find him inparliament; in the 5th year of Elizabeth, when hisfather was chosen for Sussex, he was returned one ofthe Knights of Buckinghamshire to the parliament thenheld. He afterwards travelled into foreign parts,and was detained for some time prisoner at Rome.His return into England being procured, in order totake possession of the vast inheritance his fatherleft him, he was knighted by the duke of Norfolk inher Majesty’s presence[3] 1567, and at the sameday advanced to the degree and dignity of a baronof this realm, by the title of lord Buckhurst:He was of so profuse a temper, that though he thenenjoyed a great estate, yet by his magnificent wayof living he spent more than the income of it, and[4]a story is told of him, ’That calling on analderman of London, who had got very considerably bythe loan of his money to him, he was obliged to waithis coming down so long, as made such an impressionon his generous humour, that thereupon he turned athrifty improver of his estate.’ But othersmake him the convert of Queen Elizabeth, (to whom hewas allied, his grandfather having married a ladyrelated to Ann Bullen) who by her frequent admonitionsdiverted the torrent of his profusion, and then receivedhim into her particular favour. Camden says, thatin the 14th of that Princess, he was sent ambassadorto Charles IX King of France, to congratulate hismarriage with the Emperor Maximilian’s daughter,and on other important affairs where he was honourablyreceived, according to his Queen’s merit andhis own; and having in company Guido Cavalcanti, aGentleman of Florence, a person of great experience,and the Queen-mother being a Florentine, a treaty ofmarriage was publickly transacted between Queen Elizabethand her son the duke of Anjou. In the 15th ofher Majesty he was one of the peers[5] that sat onthe trial of Thomas Howard duke of Norfolk,[6] andon the 29th of Elizabeth, was nominated one of thecommissioners for the trial of Mary Queen of Scots,and at that time was of the privy council, but hislordship is not mentioned amongst the peers who metat Fotheringay Castle and condemned the Queen; yetwhen the parliament had confirmed the sentence, hewas made choice of to convey the news to her Majesty,and see their determination put in execution againstthat beauteous Princess; possibly because he was aman of fine accomplishments, and tenderness of disposition,and could manage so delicate a point with more addressthan any other courtier. In the succeeding yearhe was sent ambassador to the States of the UnitedProvinces, upon their dislike of the earl of Leicester’sproceedings in a great many respects, there to examinethe business, and compose the difference: Hefaithfully discharged this invidious office, but therebyincurred the earl of Leicester’s displeasure;who prevailed with the Queen, as he was her favourite,

to call the lord Buckhurst home, and confine him tohis house for nine months; but surviving that earl,the Queen’s favour returned, and he was electedthe April following, without his knowledge, one ofthe Knights of the most noble Order of the Garter.He was one of the peers that sat on the trial of PhilipHoward, earl of Arundel. In the 4th year of theQueen’s reign he was joined with the Lord TreasurerBurleigh, in promoting a peace with Spain; in whichtrust he was so successful, that the High Admiralof Holland was sent over by the States, of the UnitedProvinces, to renew their treaty with the crown ofEngland, being afraid of its union with Spain.Lord Buckhurst had the sole management of that negotiation(as Burleigh then lay sick) and Concluded a treatywith him, by which his mistress was eased of no lessthan 120,000 l. per annum, besides other advantages.

His lordship succeeded Sir Christopher Hatton, inthe Chancellorship of the university of Oxford, inopposition to Robert Devereux, earl of Essex, Masterof the Horse to the Queen, who a little before wasincorporated master of arts in the said university,to capacitate him for that office; but on receiptof letters from her Majesty in favour of lord Buckhurst,the Academicians elected him Chancellor on the 17thof December following. On the death of lord Burleigh,the Queen considering the great services he had donehis country, which had cost him immense expences,was pleased to constitute him in the 41st year ofher reign, Lord High Treasurer of England: Inthe succeeding year 1599, he was in commission withSir Thomas Egerton, Lord Chancellor, and the earlof Essex, Earl-Marshal, for negotiating affairs withthe Senate of Denmark, as also in a special commissionfor suppressing schism, and afterwards when libelswere dispersed by the earl of Essex and his factionagainst the Queen, intimating that her Majesty tooklittle care of the government, and altogether neglectedthe state of Ireland,[7] his lordship engaged in avindication of her Majesty, and made answers to theselibels, representing how brave and well regulatedan army had been sent into Ireland, compleatly furnishedwith all manner of provisions, and like wise that herMajesty had expended on that war in six months time,the sum of 600,000 l. which lord Essex must own tobe true. He suspected that earl’s mutinousdesigns, by a greater concourse of people resortingto his house than ordinary, and sent his son to payhim a visit,[8] and to desire him to be careful ofthe company he kept. Essex being sensible thathis scheme was already discovered by the penetratingeye of lord Buckhurst, he and his friends enteredupon new measures, and breaking out into an open rebellion,were obliged to surrender themselves prisoners.When that unfortunate favourite, together with theearl of Southampton, was brought to trial, lord Buckhurstwas constituted on that occasion Lord High Stewardof England, and passing sentence on the earl of Essex,

his Lordship in a very eloquent speech desired himto implore the Queen’s mercy. After this,it being thought necessary for the safety of the nation,that some of the leading conspirators should sufferdeath, his Lordship advised her Majesty to pardon therest. Upon this he had a special commission grantedhim, together with secretary Cecil, and the earl ofNottingham, Lord High Admiral, to call before themall such as were concerned in the conspiracy with theearls of Essex and Southampton, and to treat and compoundwith such offenders for the redemption and compositionof their lands. After the death of Queen Elizabeth,his lordship was concerned in taking the necessarymeasures for the security of the kingdom, the administrationbeing devolved on him and other counsellors, who unanimouslyproclaimed King James, and signed a letter March 28,1603 to the lord Eure, and the rest of the commissioners,for the treaty of Breme, notifying her majesty’sdecease, and the recognition and proclamation of KingJames of Scotland: who had such a sense of lordBuckhurst’s services, and superior abilities,that before his arrival in England, he ordered therenewal of his patent, as Lord High Treasurer for life.On the 13th of March next ensuing, he was created earlof Dorset, and constituted one of the commissionersfor executing the office of Earl-Marshal of England,and for reforming sundry abuses in the College ofArms.

In the year 1608, this great man died suddenly atthe Council-Table, Whitehall, after a bustling lifedevoted to the public weal; and the 26th of May following,his remains were deposited with great solemnity inWestminster Abbey, his funeral sermon being preachedby Dr. Abbot, his chaplain, afterwards Archbishopof Canterbury. Besides this celebrated sermonof the primate’s, in which he is very lavishin his praise, Lord Chancellor Bacon, and Sir RobertNaunton, bestow particular encomiums upon him; andSir Richard Paker observes, “That he had excellentparts, and in his place was exceeding industrious,and that he had heard many exchequer men say, therenever was a better Treasurer, both for the King’sprofit, and the good of the subject.”

By his dying suddenly at the Council-Table, his deathwas interpreted by some people in a mysterious manner;[9]but his head being opened, there were found in itcertain little bags of water, which, whether by strainingin his study the night before, in which he sat up till11 o’clock, or otherwise by their own maturity,suddenly breaking, and falling upon his brain, producedhis death, to the universal grief of the nation, forwhich he had spent his strength, and for whose interest,in a very immediate manner, he may be justly said tohave fallen a sacrifice. Of all our court poetshe seems to have united the greatest industry andvariety of genius: It is seldom found, that thesons of Parnassus can devote themselves to public business,or execute it with success. I have already observed,

that the world has lost many excellent works, whichno doubt this cultivated genius would have accomplished,had he been less involved in court-affairs: butas he acted in so public a sphere, and dischargedevery office with inviolable honour, and consummateprudence, it is perhaps somewhat selfish in the loversof poetry, to wish he had wrote more, and acted less.From him is descended the present noble family of theDorsets; and it is remarkable, that all the descendantsof this great man have inherited his taste for liberalarts and sciences, as well as his capacity for publicbusiness. An heir of his was the friend and patronof Dryden, and is stiled by Congreve the monarch ofwit in his time, and the present age is happy in hisillustrious posterity, rivalling for deeds of honourand renown the most famous of their ancestors.

* * * * *

Induction to the mirror Of magistrates.

The wrathful winter hast’ning onapace,
With blustring blasts had all ybard thetreene,
And old Saturnus with his frosty face
With chilling cold had pearst the tendergreene:
The mantles rent, wherein enwrapped been,
The gladsome groves, that now lay overthrown,
The tapets torn, and every tree down blown.

The soil that erst so seemly was to seen,Was all despoiled of her beauteous hew, And sootefresh flowers wherewith the summers queen, Hadclad the earth, new Boreas blasts down blew Andsmall fowls flocking in their songs did rew Thewinter’s wrath, wherewith each thing defaste,In woeful wise bewailed the summer past.

[Footnote 1: Fuller’s Worthies, p.105]

[Footnote 2: Wood Ath. Qx. praed.]

[Footnote 3: Collins’s peerage, 519.]

[Footnote 4: Ib. 519.]

[Footnote 5: Rapin’s History of England,p. 437.]

[Footnote 6: This nobleman suffered death fora plot to recover the liberty of the Queen of Scots.]

[Footnote 7: Rapin’s History of England,vol ii. p. 617.]

[Footnote 8: Rapin’a History of England,vol. ii. p. 630.]

[Footnote 9: Chron. 2d edit. p. 596.]

* * * * *

THOMAS CHURCHYARD,

One of the assistants in the Mirror of Magistrates.He was born in the town of Shrewsbury[1] as himselfaffirms in his book made in verse of the Worthinessof Wales. He was equally addicted to arts andarms; he had a liberal education, and inherited somefortune, real and personal; but he soon exhaustedit, in a tedious and unfruitful attendance at court,for he gained no other equivalent for that mortifyingdependance, but the honour of being retained a domesticin the family of lord Surry: during which timeby his lordship’s encouragement he commencedpoet. Upon his master’s death he betookhimself to arms; was in many engagements, and was frequently

wounded; he was twice a prisoner, and redeemed bythe charity of two noble ladies, yet still languishingin distress, and bitterly complaining of fortune.Neither of his employments afforded him a patron, whowould do justice to his obscure merit; and unluckilyhe was as unhappy in his amours as in his circ*mstances,some of his mistresses treating his addresses withcontempt, perhaps, on account of his poverty; fortho’ it generally happens that Poets have thegreatest power in courtship, as they can celebratetheir mistresses with more elegance than people ofany other profession; yet it very seldom falls outthat they marry successfully, as their needy circ*mstancesnaturally deter them from making advances to Ladiesof such fashion as their genius and manners give thema right to address. This proved our author’scase exactly; he made love to a widow named Browning,who possessed a very good jointure; but this ladybeing more in love with money than laurels, with wealththan merit, rejected his suit; which not a littlediscouraged him, as he had spent his money in hopesof effecting this match, which, to his great mortification,all his rhimes and sonnets could not do. He dedicatedhis vorks to Sir Christopher Hatton; but addressesof that nature don’t always imply a provisionfor their author. It is conjectured that he diedabout the eleventh year of Queen Elizabeth, and accordingto Mr. Wood was buried near Skelton in the Chancelof St. Margaret’s, Westminster. By his writings,he appears a man of sense, and sometimes a poet, tho’he does not seem to possess any degree of invention.His language is generally pure, and his numbers notwholly inharmonious. The Legend of Jane Shoreis the most finished of all his works, from whichI have taken a quotation. His death, accordingto the most probable conjecture, happened in 1570.Thus like a stone (says Winstanley) did he trundleabout, but never gathered any moss, dying but poor,as may be seen by his epitaph in Mr. Camden’sRemains, which runs thus:

Come Alecto, lend me thy torch
To find a Church-yard in a Church-porch;
Poverty and poetry his tomb doth enclose,
Wherefore good neighbours, be merry inprose.

His works according to Winstanley are as follow:

The Siege of Leith.

A Farewell to the world.

A feigned Fancy of the Spider and the Gaul.

A doleful Discourse of a Lady and a Knight.

The Road into Scotland, by Sir William Drury.

Sir Simon Burley’s Tragedy.

A lamentable Description of the Wars in Flanders inprose, and dedicated to Walsingham secretary of state.

A light Bundle of lively Discourses, called Churchyard’sCharge 1580, dedicated to his noble patron the Earlof Surry.

A Spark of Friendship, a treatise on that writer,address’d to Sir
Walter Raleigh.

A Description and Discourse on the use of paper, inwhich he praises a paper-mill built near Darthsend,by a German called Spillman.

The Honour of the Law 1596.

Jane Shore, mistress to King Edward iv.

A Tragical Discourse of the unhappy Man’s Life.

A Discourse of Virtue.

Churchyard’s Dream.

A Tale of a Fryar and a Shoemaker’s Wife,

The Siege of Edinburgh Castle.

Queen Elizabeth’s reception into Bristol.

These twelve several pieces he bound together, callingthem Churchyard’s Chips, which he dedicatedto Sir Christopher Hatton. He wrote beside,

The Tragedy of Thomas Moubray Duke ofNorfolk. Among the rest by fortune overthrowne,I am not least, that most may waile her fate:My fame and brute, abroad the world is blowne,Who can forget a thing thus done so late? Mygreat mischance, my fall, and heavy state, Is sucha marke whereat each tongue doth shoot That my goodname, is pluckt up by the root,

[Footnote 1: Winst. 61.]

* * * * *

JOHN HEYWOOD

One of the first who wrote English plays, was a notedjester, of some reputation in poetry in his time.Wood says, that notwithstanding he was stiled CivisLondinensis, yet he laid a foundation of learning atOxford, but the severity of an academical life notsuitng with his airy genius, he retired to his nativeplace, and had the honour to have a great intimacywith Sir Thomas More. It is said, that he hadadmirable skill both in instrumental and vocal music,but it is not certain whether he left any compositionsof that sort behind him. He found means to becomea favourite with King Henry VIII on account of thequickness of his conceits, and was well rewarded bythat Monarch.[1] After the accession of Queen Maryto the throne, he was equally valued by her, and wasadmitted into the most intimate conversation withher, in diverting her by his merry stories, which hedid, even when she lay languishing on her death-bed.After the decease of that princess, he being a bigottedRoman Catholic, and finding the protestant interestwas like to prevail under the patronage of the renownedQueen Elizabeth, he sacrificed the enjoyment of livingin his own country, to that of his religion:For he entered into a voluntary exile, and settledat Mechlin in Brabant.

The Play called the Four P’s being a new andand merry interlude of a Palmer, Pardoner, Poticary,and Pedler—­printed in an old English characterin quarto, has in the title page the pictures of fourmen in old-fashioned habits, wrought off, from a woodencut. He has likewise writ the following interludes.

Between John the Husband and Tib the Wife.Between the Pardoner and the Fryer, the Curate andneighbouring Pratt. Play of Gentleness andNobility, in two parts. The Pindar of Wakefield,a comedy. Philotas Scotch, a comedy.

This author also wrote a dialogue, containing thenumber in effect of all the proverbs in the Englishtongue, compact in a matter concerning two mannerof marriages. London 1547, and 1598, in two partsin quarto, all writ in old English verse, and printedin an English character.

Three hundred epigrams upon three hundred proverbs,in old English character.

A fourth hundred of epigrams, printed in quarto, London1598.

A fifth hundred of epigrams, printed in quarto, London1598.

The Spider and Fly. A Parable of the Spider andFly, London 1556, in a pretty thick quarto, all inold English verse. Before the title is the pictureof John Heywood at full length, printed from a woodencut, with a fur gown on, almost representing the fashionof that, belonging to a master of arts, but the bottomof the sleeve reach no lower than his knees; on hishead is a round cap, his chin and lips are close shaved,and hath a dagger hanging to his girdle.[2]

Dr. Fuller mentions a book writ by our author,[3]entitled Monumenta Literaria, which are said to Nontam labore, condita, quam Lepore condita: Theauthor of English poetry, speaking of several of ourold English bards, says thus of our poet. “JohnHeywood for the mirth and quickness of conceit, morethan any good learning that was in him, came to bewell rewarded by the king.”

That the reader may judge of his epigrams, to whichcertainly the writer just mentioned alludes, I shallpresent him with one writ by him on himself.

Art thou Heywood, with thy mad merry wit?Yea for sooth master, that name is even hit.Art thou Heywood, that apply’s mirth more thanthrift? Yes sir, I take merry mirth, a goldengift. Art thou Heywood, that hast made manymad plays? Yea many plays, few good worksin my days. Art thou Heywood, that hath mademen merry long? Yea, and will, if I be mademerry among. Art thou Heywood, that would’stbe made merry now? Yes, Sir, help me toit now, I beseech you.

He died at Mechlin, in the year 1565, and was buriedthere, leaving behind him several children, to whomhe had given liberal education, one of whom is Jasper,who afterwards made a considerable figure, and becamea noted Jesuit.

[Footnote 1: Wood Athen, Oxon.]

[Footnote 2: Wood ubi supra.]

[Footnote 3: Worthies of London, p. 221.]

* * * * *

GEORGE FERRARS,

Descended of an ancient family seated in Hertfordshire,was born there in a village not far from St. Alban’sabout the year 1510[1]. He was a lawyer, a historian,and a poet; he received his education at the universityof Oxford, but of what college he was Wood himselfhas not been able to discover; he removed from thenceto Lincolns’-Inn, where, by a diligent applicationto the law, he made considerable progress in his profession,and by the patronage of that great minister CromwellEarl of Essex, who was himself a man of astonishingabilities, he soon made a figure at the bar.He was the menial servant of King Henry VIII.[2] anddischarged his trust both in time of war and peacewith great honour and gallantry, and shared that monarch’s

favour in a very considerable degree, who made hima grant in his own country, as an evidence of hisaffection for him. This grant of the King’shappened in the year 1535; and yet in seven yearsafterwards, either thro’ want of economy, orby a boundless confidence in his friends, he reducedhis affairs to a very indifferent situation, which,perhaps, might be the reason, why he procured himselfto be chosen Member for the Borough of Plymouth inthe county of Devon,[3] in the Parliament summonedthe thirty-third year of that King’s reign.During the Sessions he had the misfortune to be arrestedby an officer belonging to the Sheriffs of London,and carried to the counter, then in Bread-street.No sooner had the House of Commons got notice of thisinsult offered to one of their Members, than they immediatelyenacted a settled rule, which from that accident tookplace, with respect to privilege, and ever since thattime the Members of the House have been exempt fromarrests for debt. His Majesty likewise resentedthe affront offered to his servant, and with the concurrenceof the Parliament proceeded very severely againstthe Sheriffs.

Hollinshed in his chronicle, vol 2, p. 955, givesa very full account of it. Sir Thomas Moils,knight, then Speaker of the House, gave a specialorder to the Serjeant of the Parliament to repair tothe Compter, and there demand the delivery of the prisoner.But notwithstanding this high authority, the officersin the city refused to obey the command, and aftermany altercations, they absolutely resisted the Serjeant,upon which a fray ensued within the Compter-gates,between Ferrars and the officers, not without mutualhurt, so that the Serjeant was driven to defend himselfwith his mace of arms, and had the crown of it brokenwith warding off a stroke; the Sheriffs of Londonso far from appeasing, fomented the quarrel, and withinsolent language refused to deliver their prisoner:Upon which the Serjeant, thus abused, returned tothe House and related what had happened. Thiscirc*mstance so exasperated the Burgesses, that theyall rose and went into the Upper House, and declaredthey would transact no more business till their Memberwas restored to them. They then commanded theirSerjeant again to go to the Compter with his mace,and make a second demand by their authority.—­TheSheriffs hearing that the Upper House hid concernedthemselves in it, and being afraid of their resentment,restored the prisoner before the Serjeant had timeto return to the Compter; but this did not satisfythe Burgesses, they summoned the Sheriffs before them,together with one White, who in contempt of theirdignity had taken out a writ against Ferrars, andas a punishment for their insolence, they were sentto the Tower; and ever since that period, the powerand privilege of the Commons have been on the increase.

Ferrars continued in high favour with Henry duringthe remainder of his reign, and seems to have stoodupon good terms with Somerset Lord Protector in thebeginning of Edward VI. since it appears that he attendedthe Protector in quality of one of the Commissionersof the Army, in his expedition into Scotland in 1548,[4]which, perhaps, might be owing to his being aboutthe person of Prince Edward in his father’slife-time. Another instance of this happened aboutfour years afterwards, at a very critical juncture,for when the unfortunate Duke of Somerset lay undersentence of death, and it was observed that the peoplemurmured and often gave testimonies of discontent,and that the King himself was very uneasy, those abouthim studied every method to quiet and amuse the one,to entertain and divert the other[5]. In orderto this, at the entrance of Christmas holidays, Mr.Ferrars was proclaimed Lord Misrule, that is a kindof Prince of sports and pastimes, which office hedischarged for twelve days together at Greenwich withgreat magnificence and address, and entirely to theKing’s satisfaction.

In this character, attended by the politest part ofthe Court, he made an excursion to London, where hewas splendidly entertained by the Lord Mayor, andwhen he took his leave he had presents given him intoken of respect. But notwithstanding he madeso great figure in the diversions at court, yet hewas no idle spectator of political affairs, and maintainedhis reputation with the learned world. He wrotethe reign of Queen Mary, which tho’ publishedin the name of Richard Grafton, in his chronicles;yet was certainly the performance of Ferrars, accordingto the annals of Stow, p. 632, whose authority inthis case is very high. Our author was an historian,a lawyer, and a politician even in his poetry, asappears from these pieces of his which are insertedin the Mirror of Magistrates, and which are not inferiorto any others that have found a place there[6].In the early part of his life he wrote some tractson his own profession, which gained him great reputation,and which discover that he was a lover of liberty,and not disposed to sacrifice to the crown the rightsand properties of the subject. It seldom happensthat when a man often changes his situation, or isforced to do so, that he continues to preserve thegood opinion of different parties, but this was ahappiness which Ferrars enjoyed. He was consultedby the learned as a candid critic, admired and lovedby all who conversed with him.

With respect to the time of our author’s death,we cannot be absolutely certain; all we know is, thathe died in the year 1579, at his house in Flamsteadin Hertfordshire, and was buried in the parish church;for as Wood informs us, on the eighteenth of May thesame year a commission was granted from the prerogative,to administer the goods, debts, chattles, etc.of George Ferrars lately deceased[7]. None ofour authors deliver any thing as to Mr. Ferrars’sreligion, but it is highly probable that he was azealous Protestant: not from his accepting grantsof Abbey-lands, for that is but a precarious proof,but from his coming into the world under the protectionof Thomas Lord Cromwell, who was certainly persuadedof the truth of the protestant religion.

Having this occasion to mention Thomas Lord Cromwell,the famous Earl of Essex, who was our author’swarmest patron, I am persuaded my readers will forgiveme a digression which will open to them the noblestinstance of gratitude and honour in that worthy nobleman,that ever adorned the page of an historian, and whichhas been told with rapture by all who have writ ofthe times, particularly by Dr. Burnet in his historyof the Reformation, and Fox in his Martyrology.—­ThomasLord Cromwell was the son of a Blacksmith at Putney,and was a soldier under the duke of Bourbon at thesacking of Rome in the year 1527. While he wasabroad in a military character, in a very low station,he fell sick, and was unable to follow the army; hewas observed one day by an Italian merchant to walkvery pensive, and had all the appearance of penuryand wretchedness: The merchant enquired of himthe place of his birth, and fortune, and upon conversingwith Cromwell, was so well pleased with the accounthe gave of himself, that he supplied him with moneyand credit to carry him to England. Cromwellafterwards made the most rapid progress in state-prefermentsever known. Honours were multiplied thick uponhim, and he came to have the dispensing of his sovereign’sbounty. It happened, that this Italian merchant’scirc*mstances decayed, and he came to England to sollicitthe payment of some debts due to him by his correspondents;who finding him necessitous, were disposed to put himoff, and take the advantage of his want, to avoidpayment. This not a little embarrassed the foreigner,who was now in a situation forlorn enough. Asprovidence would have it, lord Cromwell, then Earlof Essex, riding to court, saw this merchant walkingwith a dejected countenance, which put him in mindof his former situation. He immediately orderedone of his attendants to desire the merchant to cometo his house. His lordship asked the merchantwhether he knew him? he answered no: Cromwellthen related the circ*mstance of the merchant’srelieving a certain Englishman; and asked if he rememberedit? The merchant answered, that he had alwaysmade it his business to do good, but did not rememberthat circ*mstance.—­His lordship then enquiredthe reason of his coming to England, and upon themerchant’s telling him his story, he so interestedhimself, as soon to procure the payment of all hisdebts.—­Cromwell then informed the merchant,that he was himself the person he had thus relieved;and for every Ducat which the merchant had given him,he returned to the value of a hundred, telling him,that this was the payment of his debt. He thenmade him a munificent present, and asked him whetherhe chose to settle in England, or return to his owncountry. The foreigner chose the latter, andreturned to spend the remainder of his days in competenceand quiet, after having experienced in lord Essexas high an instance of generosity and gratitude asperhaps ever was known. This noble act of hislordship, employed, says Burnet, the pens of the beltwriters at that time in panegyrics on so great a behaviour;the finest poets praised him; his most violent enemiescould not help admiring him, and latest posterityshall hold the name of him in veneration, who wascapable of so generous an act of honour. But toreturn to Ferrars.

In our author’s history of the reign of QueenMary, tho’ he shews himself a great admirerof the personal virtues of that Princess, and a verydiscerning and able historian, yet it is every whereevident that he was attached to the protestant interest;but more especially in the learned account he givesof Archbishop Cranmer’s death, and Sir ThomasWyat’s insurrection[8]. The works of thisauthor which are printed in the Mirror of Magistrates,are as follow;

The Fall of Robert Tresilian, Chief Justiceof
England, for misconstruing the laws, andexpounding
them to serve the prince’s affections.

The Tragedy, or unlawful murther of Thomas
of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester.

The Tragedy of Richard ii.

The Story of Dame Eleanor Cobham, duch*ess
of Gloucester.

The Story of Humphry Plantagenet, Dukeof
Gloucester, Protector of England.

The Tragedy of Edmund Duke of Somerset.

Among these the Complaints of Eleanor Cobham, duch*essof Gloucester, who was banished for consulting Conjurersand Fortune-tellers about the Life of King Henry VI.and whose exile quickly made way for the murder ofher husband, has of all his compositions been mostadmired; and from this I shall quote a few lines whichthat Lady speaks.

The Isle of Man was the appointed place,
To penance me for ever in exile;

Thither in haste, they posted me apace,
And doubting ’scape, they pinedme in a pyle,
Close by myself; in care alas the while.
There felt I first poor prisoner’shungry fare,
Much want, things skant, and stone walls,hard and bare.

The chaunge was straunge from silke andcloth of gold
To rugged fryze, my carcass for to cloath;
From prince’s fare, and daintieshot and cold,
To rotten fish, and meats that one wouldloath:
The diet and dressing were much alikeboath:
Bedding and lodging were all alike fine,
Such down it was as served well for swyne.

[Footnote 1: From manuscript note on the artof poetry.]

[Footnote 2: Biog. Brit. p. 1922.]

[Footnote 3: Willis notitia Parliam. vol 2. p.295.]

[Footnote 4: Patten’s Journal of the Scotchexpedition, p. 13.]

[Footnote 5: Stow’s Annal. p. 608.]

[Footnote 6: Lond. 40.]

[Footnote 7: Athen. Oxon. vol. I. col.146.]

[Footnote 8: Grafton’s Chron. p. 1350,1351.]

* * * * *

Sir Philip Sidney.

This great ornament to human nature, to literature,and to Britain, was the son of Sir Henry Sidney, knightof the Garter, and three times Lord Deputy of Ireland,and of lady Mary Dudley, daughter to the duke of Northumberland,and nephew to that great favourite, Robert, earl ofLeicester.

Oxford had the honour of his education, under thetuition of Dr. Thomas Thornton, canon of Christ Church.At the university he remained till he was 17 yearsof age, and in June 1572 set out on his travels.On the 24th of August following, when the massacrefell out at Paris, he was then there, [1] and withother Englishmen took shelter in Sir Francis Walsingham’shouse, her Majesty’s ambassador at that court.When this storm subsided, he departed from Paris, wentthrough Lorrain, and by Strasburgh and Heydelburgh,to Francfort, in September or October following; wherehe settled for some time, and was entertained, agentfor the duke of Saxony. At his return, her Majestywas one of the first who distinguished his great abilities,and, as proud of so rich a treasure, she sent himambassador to Rodolph the emperor, to condole himon the death of Maximilian, and also to other princesof Germany. The next year, 1577, he went to thecourt of that gallant prince Don John de Austria,Viceroy in the low countries for the king of Spain.Don John was the proudest man in his time; haughtyand imperious in his behaviour, and always used theforeign ambassadors, who came to his court, with unsufferableinsolence and superiority: At first he paid butlittle respect to Sidney on account of his youth,and seeming inexperience; but having had occasion tohear him talk, and give some account of the mannersof every court where he had been, he was so struckwith his vivacity, the propriety of his observations,and the lustre of his parts, that he ever afterwardsused him with familiarity, and paid him more respectin his private character, than he did to any ambassadorfrom whatever court. Some years after this, Woodobserves, that in a book called Cabala, he set forthhis reasons why the marriage of the queen with theduke of Anjou was disadvantageous to the nation.This address was written at the desire of the earlof Leicester, his uncle; upon which, a quarrel happenedbetween him and the earl of Oxford, which perhaps occasionedhis retirement from court for two years, when he wrotethat renowned romance called Arcadia. We findhim again in high favour, when the treaty of marriagewas renewed; he was engaged with Sir Fulk Grevillein tilting, for the diversion of the court; and atthe departure of the duke of Anjou from England, heattended him to Antwerp [2].

On the 8th of January, 1582, he received the honourof knighthood from the queen; and in the beginningof the year 1585, he designed an expedition with SirFrancis Drake into America; but being hindered bythe Queen, who thought the court would be deficientwithout him, he was made Governor of Flushing, (aboutthat time delivered to the Queen for one of the cautionary-towns)and General of the Horse. In both these placesof important trust, his behaviour in point of prudenceand valour was irreproachable, and gained additionalhonour to his country, especially when in July 1586he surprized Axil, and preserved the lives and reputation

of the English army, at the enterprise of Gravelin.About that time he was in election for the crown ofPoland, but the queen refused to promote this hisglorious advancement, not from jealousy, but fromthe fear of losing the jewel of her times. Heunited the statesman, the scholar and the soldier;and as by the one, he purchased fame and honour inhis life, so by the other, he has acquired immortalityafter death.

In the year 1586, when that unfortunate stand wasmade against the Spaniards before Zutphen, the 22dof September, when he was getting upon the third horse,having had two slain under him before, he was woundedwith a musket-shot out of the trenches, which brokethe bone of his thigh. The horse he rode uponwas rather furiously choleric, than bravely proud,so forced him to forsake the field, but not his back,as the noblest and fittest bier (says lord Brook) tocarry a martial commander to his grave. In thisprogress, passing along by the rest of the army wherehis uncle the [3] General was, and being faint withexcess of bleeding, he called for drink, which waspresently brought him; but as he was putting the bottleto his mouth, he saw a poor soldier carried along,who had been wounded at the same time, wishfully castup his eyes at the bottle; whereupon Sir Philip tookit from his own mouth before he drank, and deliveredit to the poor man, with these words, “thy necessityis yet greater than mine;” and when he had assistedthis poor soldier and fellow sufferer, as he calledhim, he was presently carried to Arnheim, where theprincipal surgeons of the camp attended him.

This generous behaviour of our gallant knight, oughtnot to pass without a panegyric. All his deedsof bravery, his politeness, his learning, and courtlyaccomplishments, do not reflect so much honour uponhim, as this one disinterested, truly heroic action:It discovered so tender and benevolent a nature; amind so fortified against pain; a heart so overflowingwith generous sentiments, to relieve, in oppositionto the violent call of his own necessities, a poorman languishing in the same distress, before himself,that as none can read it without the highest admirationof the wounded hero, so none I hope will think meextravagant in thus endeavouring to extol it.Bravery is often constitutional; fame may be the motiveto feats of arms, a statesman and a courtier may actfrom interest; but a sacrifice so generous as this,can be made by none but those who are good as wellas great, who are noble-minded, and gloriously compassionate,like Sidney.

When the surgeons began to dress his wound, he toldthem, that while his strength was yet entire, hisbody free from a fever, and his mind able to endure,they might freely use their art; cut and search tothe bottom; but if they should neglect their art,and renew torments in the declination of nature, theirignorance, or over-tenderness would prove a kind oftyranny to their friend, and reflect no honour uponthemselves.

For some time they had great hopes of his recovery;and so zealous were they to promote it, and overjoyedat its seeming approach, that they spread the reportof it, which soon reached London, and diffused themost general joy at Court that ever was known.

At the same time count Hollock was under the careof a most excellent surgeon, for a wound in his throatby a musket shot; yet he neglected his own extremityto save his friend, and for that purpose sent him toSir Philip. This surgeon notwithstanding, outof love to his master, returning one day to dresshis wound, the count cheerfully asked him how SirPhilip did? he answered with a dejected look, thathe was not well: At these words the count, ashaving more sense of his friend’s wound thanhis own, cried out, “Away villain, never seemy face again till you bring better news of that gentleman’srecovery, for whose redemption, many such as I werehappily lost.”

Finding all the efforts of the surgeons in vain, hebegan to put no more confidence in their skill, andresigned himself with heroic patience to his fate.He called the ministers to him, who were all excellentmen of different nations, and before them made sucha confession of Christian faith, as no book, but theheart, can truly and feelingly deliver. Thencalling for his will, and settling his temporal affairs,the last scene of this tragedy, was the parting betweenthe two brothers. Sir Philip exerted all his soulin endeavouring to suppress his sorrow, in which affectionand nature were too powerful for him, while the otherdemonstrated his tenderness by immoderate transportsof grief, a weakness which every tender breast willeasily forgive, who have ever felt the pangs of partingfrom a brother; and a brother of Sir Philip Sidney’sworth, demanded still additional sorrow. He tookhis leave with these admonishing words, “Mydear, much loved, honoured brother, love my memory;cherish my friends; their faith to me may assure youthey are honest. But above all, govern your willand affections, by the will and word of your Creator.In me, beholding the end of this world with all hervanities.” And with this farewel he desiredthe company to lead him away.

After his death, which happened on the 16th of October,the States of Zealand became suitors to his Majesty,and his noble friends, that they might have the honourof burying his body at the public expence of theirgovernment,[4] but in this they were denied; for soonafter, his body was brought to Flushing, and beingembarked with great solemnity on the 1st of November,landed at Tower Wharf on the 6th of the same month;and the 16th of February following, after having lainin state, it was magnificently deposited in St. Paul’sCathedral.

As the funeral of many princes has not exceeded itin solemnity, so few have equalled it in the undissembledsorrow for his loss[5] King James writ an epitaphupon him, and the Muses of Oxford lamenting him, composedelegies to his memory. It may be justly said ofthis great man, what a celebrated poet now livinghas applied to Archbishop Laud,

Around his tomb did art and genius weep,
Beauty, wit, piety, and bravery, wereundissembled
mourners.

He left behind him one child named Elizabeth, (marriedto the earl of Rutland) whom he had by Sir FrancisWalsingham’s daughter, and who unfortunatelydied without issue to perpetuate the living virtuesof her illustrious family. She is said to havebeen excessively beautiful; that she married the earlof Rutland by authority, but that her affections werededicated to the earl of Essex, and as Queen Elizabethwas in love with that nobleman, she became very jealousof this charming countess. It has been commonlyreported[6] that Sir Philip, some hours before hisdeath, enjoyned a near friend to consign his worksto the flames. What promise his friend returnedis uncertain, but if he broke his word to befriendthe public, posterity has thank’d him, and everyfuture age will with gratitude acknowledge the favour.

Of all his works his Arcadia is the most celebrated;it is dedicated to his sister the countess of Pembroke,who was a Lady of as fine a character, and as equallyfinished in every female accomplishment, as her brotherin the manly. She lived to a good old age, anddied in 1621. Ben Johnson has wrote an epitaphupon her, so inimitably excellent, that I cannot resistthe temptation of inserting it here. She wasburied in the Cathedral Church of Salisbury, amongthe graves of the family of the Pembrokes.

Epitaph.

Underneath this marble hearse,
Lyes the subject of all verse,
Sidney’s sister, Pembroke’smother,
Death e’re thou hast killed another,
Learned and fair, and good as she,
Time shall throw his dart at thee.

The Arcadia was printed first in 1613 in 4to; it hasbeen translated into almost every language. Asthe ancient AEgyptians presented secrets under theirmystical hyeroglyphics, so that an easy figure wasexhibited to the eye, and a higher notion couched underit to the judgment, so all the Arcadia is a continualgrove of morality, shadowing moral and political truthsunder the plain and striking emblems of lovers, sothat the reader may be deceived, but not hurt, andhappily surprized to more knowledge than he expected.

Besides the celebrated Arcadia, Sir Philip wrote,

A dissuasive letter addressed to Queen Elizabeth;against her marriage with the duke of Anjou, printedin a book called Serinia Ceciliana, 4to. 1663.

Astrophel & Stella, written at the desire of LadyRich, whom he perfectly loved, and is thought to becelebrated in the Arcadia by the name of Philoclea.

--------------- Ourania, a poem, 1606.

An Essay on Valour: Some impute this to Sir ThomasOverbury.

Almanzor and Almanzaida, a novel printed in 1678,which is likewise disputed; and Wood says that hebelieves Sir Philip’s name was only prefixedto it by the bookseller, to secure a demand for it.

--------England’s Helicon, a collection of songs.

--------The Psalms of David turned into English.

The true picture of love.

Poore painters oft with silly poets joyne,
To fill the world with vain and strangeconceits,
One brings the stuff, the other stampsthe coyne
Which breeds nought else but glosses ofdeceits.
Thus painters Cupid paint, thus poetsdoe
A naked god, blind, young, with arrowstwo.

Is he a god, that ever flyes the light?Or naked he, disguis’d in all untruth?If he be blind, how hitteth he so right? Howis he young, that tamed old Phoebus youth?But arrowes two, and tipt with gold or lead, Somehurt, accuse a third with horney head.

No nothing so; an old, false knave heis, By Argus got on Io, then a cow: Whattime for her, Juno her Jove did miss, And chargeof her to Argus did allow. Mercury killed hisfalse sire for this act, His damme a beast was pardoned,beastly fact.

With father’s death, and mother’sguilty shame,
With Jove’s disdain at such a rival’sfeed:
The wretch compel’d, a runegatebecame,
And learn’d what ill, a miser-statedid breed,
To lye, to steal, to prie, and to accuse,
Nought in himself, each other to abuse.

[Footnote 1: Athen, Oxon, folio, p. 226.]

[Footnote 2: Wood, p. 227.]

[Footnote 3: Earl of Leicester.]

[Footnote 4: Lord Brook’s life.]

[Footnote 5: For a great many months after hisdeath, it was reckoned indecent in any gentleman toappear splendidly dress’d; the public mournedhim, not with exterior formality, but with the genuinesorrow of the heart. Of all our poets he seemsto be the most courtly, the bravest, the most active,and in the moral sense, the best.]

[Footnote 6: Camden Brit. in Kent.]

* * * * *

CHISTOPHER MARLOE

Was bred a student in Cambridge, but there is no accountextant of his family. He soon quitted the University,and became a player on the same stage with the incomparableShakespear. He was accounted, says Langbaine,a very fine poet in his time, even by Ben Johnson himself,and Heywood his fellow-actor stiles him the best ofpoets. In a copy of verses called the Censureof the Poets, he was thus characterized.

Next Marloe bathed in Thespian springs,
Had in him those brave sublunary things,
That your first poets had; his raptureswere
All air and fire, which made his versesclear;
For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’sbrain.

His genius inclined him wholly to tragedy, and heobliged the world with six plays, besides one he joinedfor with Nash, called Dido Queen of Carthage; butbefore I give an account of them, I shall present hischaracter to the reader upon the authority of AnthonyWood, which is too singular to be passed over.This Marloe, we are told, presuming upon his own littlewit, thought proper to practise the most epicureanindulgence, and openly profess’d atheism; hedenied God, Our Saviour; he blasphemed the adorableTrinity, and, as it was reported, wrote several discoursesagainst it, affirming Our Saviour to be a deceiver,the sacred scriptures to contain nothing but idle stories,and all religion to be a device of policy and priestcraft;but Marloe came to a very untimely end, as some remarked,in consequence of his execrable blasphemies.It happened that he fell deeply in love with a lowgirl, and had for his rival a fellow in livery, wholooked more like a pimp than a lover. Marloe,fired with jealousy, and having some reason to believethat his mistress granted the fellow favours, he rushedupon him to stab him with his dagger; but the footmanbeing quick, avoided the stroke, and catching holdof Marloe’s wrist stabbed him with his own weapon,and notwithstanding all the assistance of surgery,he soon after died of the wound, in the year 1593.Some time before his death, he had begun and madea considerable progress in an excellent poem calledHero and Leander, which was afterwards finished byGeorge Chapman, who fell short, as it is said, ofthe spirit and invention of Marloe in the executionof it.

What credit may be due to Mr. Wood’s severerepresentation of this poet’s character, thereader must judge for himself. For my part, Iam willing to suspend my judgment till I meet withsome other testimony of his having thus heinouslyoffended against his God, and against the best andmost amiable system of Religion that ever was, or evercan be: Marloe might possibly be inclined tofree-thinking, without running the unhappy lengthsthat Mr. Wood tells us, it was reported he had done.We have many instances of characters being too lightlytaken up on report, and mistakenly represented thro’a too easy credulity; especially against a man whomay happen to differ from us in some speculative points,wherein each party however, may think himself Orthodox:The good Dr. Clarke himself, has been as ill spokenof as Wood speaks of Marloe.

His other works are

1. Dr. Faustus, his tragical history printedin 4to. London, 1661.

2. Edward the Second, a Tragedy, printed in 4to.London—­when this play was acted is notknown.

3. Jew of Malta, a Tragedy played before theKing and Queen at Whitehall, 1633. This playwas in much esteem in those days; the Jew’spart being performed by Mr. Edward Alleyn, the greatestplayer of his time, and a man of real piety and goodness;he founded and endowed Dulwich hospital in Surry;he was so great an actor, that Betterton, the Rosciusof the British nation, used to acknowledge that heowed to him those great attainments of which he wasmaster.

4. Lust’s Dominion; or the Lascivious Queen,published by Mr. Kirkman, 8vo. London, 1661.This play was altered by Mrs. Behn, and acted under,the title of the Moor’s Revenge.

5. Massacre of Paris, with the death of the Dukeof Guise, a Tragedy, played by the Right Honourablethe Lord Admiral’s servants. This playis divided into acts; it begins with the fatal marriagebetween the King of Navarre, and Margurete de Valois,sister to King Charles IX; the occasion of the massacre,and ends with the death of Henry iii of France.

6. Tamerlain the Great; or the Scythian Shepherd,a Tragedy in two parts, printed in an old black letter,8vo. 1593. This is said to be the worst of hisproductions.

* * * * *

ROBERT GREEN

Received his education at the university of Cambridge,and was, as Winstanley says, a great friend to theprinters by the many books he writ. He was amerry droll in those times, and a man so addicted topleasure, that as Winstanley observes, he drank muchdeeper draughts of sack, than of the Heliconian stream;he was amongst the first of our poets who writ forbread, and in order the better to support himself,tho’ he lived in an age far from being dissolute,viz. in that of the renowned Queen Elizabeth;yet he had recourse to the mean expedient of writingobscenity, and favouring the cause of vice, by whichhe no doubt recommended himself to the rakes abouttown, who, as they are generally no true judges ofwit, to estimate the merit of a piece, as it happensto suit their appetite, or encourage them in everyirregular indulgence. No man of honour who seesa poet endowed with a large share of natural understanding,prostituting his pen to the vilest purpose of debaucheryand lewdness, can think of him but with contempt;and his wit, however brilliant, ought not to screenhim from the just indignation of the sober part ofmankind. When wit is prostituted to vice, ’tiswit no more; that is, it ceases to be true wit; andI have often thought there should be some public markof infamy fixed on those who hurt society by loosewritings. But Mr. Green must be freed from theimputation of hypocrisy, for we find him practicingthe very doctrines he taught. Winstanley relatesthat he was married to a very fine and deserving lady,whom he basely forsook, with a child she had by him,for the company of some harlots, to whom he appliedthe wages of iniquity, while his wife starved.After some years indulgence of this sort, when hiswit began to grow stale, we find him fallen into abjectpoverty, and lamenting the life he had led which broughthim to it; for it always happens, that a mistress isa more expensive piece of furniniture than a wife;and if the modern adulterers would speak the truth,I am certain they would acknowledge, that half themoney which, in the true sense of the word, is misspent

upon those daughters of destruction, would keep a familywith decency, and maintain a wife with honour.When our author was in this forlorn miserable state,he writ a letter to his wife, which Mr. Winstanly haspreferred, and which, as it has somewhat tender init I shall insert. It has often been observed,that half the unhappy marriages in the world, aremore owing to the men than the women; That women arein general much better beings, in the moral sense,than the men; who, as they bustle less in life, aregenerally unacquainted with those artifices and tricks,which are acquired by a knowledge of the world; andthat then their yoke-fellows need only be tender andindulgent, to win them. But I believe it maybe generally allowed, that women are the best or worstpart of the human creation: none excel them invirtue; but when they depart from it, none exceed themin vice. In the case of Green, we shall see bythe letter he sent his wife how much she was injured.

“The remembrance of many wrongsoffered thee, and thy unreproved virtues, add greatersorrow to my miserable state than I can utter, orthou conceive; neither is it lessened by considerationof thy absence, (tho’ shame would let mehardly behold thy face) but exceedingly aggravated,for that I cannot as I ought to thy ownself reconcilemyself, that thou might’st witness my inwardwoe at this instant, that hath made thee a wofulwife for so long a time. But equal heaven hasdenied that comfort, giving at my last need, likesuccour as I have sought all my life, being in thisextremity as void of help, as thou hast been ofhope. Reason would that after so long waste,I should not send thee a child to bring thee charge;but consider he is the fruit of thy womb, in whoseface regard not the father, so much as thy own perfections:He is yet green, and may grow strait, if he be carefullytended, otherwise apt enough to follow his father’sfolly. That I have offended thee highly, Iknow; that thou canst forget my injuries, I hardlybelieve; yet I perswade myself, that if thou sawestmy wretched estate, thou couldst not but lamentit, nay certainly I know, thou wouldst. Allthy wrongs muster themselves about me, and everyevil at once plagues me; for my contempt of God,I am contemned of men; for my swearing and forswearing,no man will believe me; for my gluttony, I sufferhunger; for my drunkenness, thirst; for my adultery,ulcerous sores. Thus God hath cast me downthat I might be humbled, and punished for exampleof others; and though he suffers me in this worldto perish without succour, yet I trust in the worldto come, to find mercy by the merits of my Saviour,to whom I commend thee, and commit my soul.”

Thy repentant husband,

for his disloyalty,

Robert green.

This author’s works are chiefly these,

The Honourable History of Fryar Bacon, and Fryar Bungy;play’d by the Prince of Palatine’s servants.I know not whence our author borrowed his plot, butthis famous fryar Minor lived in the reign of Henryiii. and died in the reign of Edward I. in theyear 1284. He joined with Dr. Lodge in one play,called a Looking Glass for London; he writ also theComedies of Fryar Bacon and Fair Enome. His otherpieces are, Quip for an upstart Courtier, and Dorastusand Fawnia. Winstanley imputes likewise to himthe following pieces. Tully’s Loves; Philomela,the Lady Fitzwater’s Nightingale; Green’sNews too Late, first and second part; Green’sArcadia; Green’s Farewel to Folly; Green’sGroatsworth of Wit.

It is said by Wood in his Fasti, p. 137, vol. i. thatour author died in the year 1592, of a surfeit takenby eating pickled herrings, and drinking with themrhenish wine. At this fatal banquet, Thomas Nash,his cotemporary at Cambridge was with him, who rallieshim in his Apology of Pierce Pennyless. Thusdied Robert Green, whose end may be looked upon asa kind of punishment for a life spent in riot andinfamy.

* * * * *

EDMUND SPENSER

was born in London, and educated at Pembroke Hallin Cambridge. The accounts of the birth and familyof this great man are but obscure and imperfect, andat his first setting out into life, his fortune andinterest seem to have been very inconsiderable.

After he had for some time continued at the college,and laid that foundation of learning, which, joinedto his natural genius, qualified him to rise to sogreat an excellency, he stood for a fellowship, incompetition with Mr. Andrews, a gentleman in holy orders,and afterwards lord bishop of Winchester, in whichhe was unsuccessful. This disappointment, joinedwith the narrowness of his circ*mstances, forced himto quit the university [1]; and we find him next residingat the house of a friend in the North, where he fellin love with his Rosalind, whom he finely celebratesin his pastoral poems, and of whose cruelty he haswritten such pathetical complaints.

It is probable that about this time Spenser’sgenius began first to distinguish itself; for theShepherd’s Calendar, which is so full of hisunprosperous passion for Rosalind, was amongst thefirst of his works of note, and the supposition isstrengthened, by the consideration of Poetry’sbeing frequently the offspring of love and retirement.This work he addressed by a short dedication to theMaecenas of his age, the immortal Sir Philip Sidney.This gentleman was now in the highest reputation,both for wit and gallantry, and the most popular ofall the courtiers of his age, and as he was himselfa writer, and especially excelled in the fabulousor inventive part of poetry; it is no wonder he wasstruck with our author’s genius, and becamesensible of his merit. A story is told of him

by Mr. Hughes, which I shall present the reader, asit serves to illustrate the great worth and penetrationof Sidney, as well as the excellent genius of Spenser.It is said that our poet was a stranger to this gentleman,when he began to write his Fairy Queen, and that hetook occasion to go to Leicester-house, and introducehimself by sending in to Mr. Sidney a copy of theninth Canto of the first book of that poem. Sidneywas much surprized with the description of despairin that Canto, and is said to have shewn an unusualkind of transport on the discovery of so new and uncommona genius. After he had read some stanza’s,he turned to his steward, and bid him give the personthat brought those verses fifty pounds; but upon readingthe next stanza, he ordered the sum to be doubled.The steward was no less surprized than his master,and thought it his duty to make some delay in executingso sudden and lavish a bounty; but upon reading onestanza stanza more, Mr. Sidney raised the gratuityto two hundred pounds, and commanded the steward togive it immediately, lest as he read further he mightbe tempted to give away his whole estate. Fromthis time he admitted the author to his acquaintanceand conversation, and prepared the way for his beingknown and received at court.

Tho’ this seemed a promising omen, to be thusintroduced to court, yet he did not instantly reapany advantage from it. He was indeed createdpoet laureat to Queen Elizabeth, but he for some timewore a barren laurel, and possessed only the placewithout the pension [2]. Lord treasurer Burleigh,under whose displeasure Spenser laboured, took careto intercept the Queen’s favours to this unhappygreat man. As misfortunes have the most influenceon elegant and polished minds, so it was no wonderthat Spenser was much depressed by the cold receptionhe met with from the great; a circ*mstance which nota little detracts from the merit of the ministersthen in power: for I know not if all the politicaltransactions of Burleigh, are sufficient to counterballancethe infamy affixed on his name, by prosecuting resentmentagainst distressed merit, and keeping him who was theornament of the times, as much distant as possiblefrom the approach of competence. These discouragementsgreatly sunk our author’s spirit, and accordinglywe find him pouring out his heart, in complaints ofso injurious and undeserved a treatment; which probably,would have been less unfortunate to him, if his noblepatron Sir Philip Sidney had not been so much absentfrom court, as by his employments abroad, and theshare he had in the Low-Country wars, he was obligedto be. In a poem called, The Ruins of Time, whichwas written some time after Sidney’s death,the author seems to allude to the discouragement Ihave mentioned in the following stanza.

O grief of griefs, O gall of all goodhearts!
To see that virtue should despised be,
Of such as first were raised for virtue’sparts,
And now broad-spreading like an aged tree,
Let none shoot up that nigh them plantedbe;
O let not these, of whom the muse is scorned,
Alive or dead be by the muse adorned.

These lines are certainly meant to reflect on Burleighfor neglecting him, and the Lord Treasurer afterwardsconceived a hatred towards him for the satire he apprehendedwas levelled at him in Mother Hubbard’s Tale.In this poem, the author has in the most lively manner,painted out the misfortune of depending on court favours.The lines which follow are among others very remarkable.

Full little knowest thou, that hast nottry’d,
What Hell it is in suing long to bide,
To dole good days, that nights be betterspent,
To waste long nights in pensive discontent;
To speed to day, to be put back to-morrow,
To feed on hope, to pine with fear andsorrow
To have thy prince’s grace, yetwant her peers,
To have thy asking, yet wait many years.
To fret thy soul with crosses, and withcare.
To eat thy heart, thro’ comfortlessdespair;
To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride,to run
To spend, to give, to want, to be undone.

As this was very much the author’s case, itprobably was the particular passage in that poem whichgave offence; for as Hughes very elegantly observes,even the sighs of a miserable man, are sometimes resentedas an affront, by him who is the occasion of them.There is a little story, which seems founded on thegrievance just now mentioned, and is related by someas a matter of fact [3] commonly reported at thattime. It is said, that upon his presenting somepoems to the Queen, she ordered him a gratuity ofone hundred pounds, but the Lord Treasurer Burleighobjecting to it, said with some scorn of the poet,of whose merit he was totally ignorant, “What,all this for a song?” The queen replied, “Thengive him what is reason.” Spenser for sometime waited, but had the mortification to find himselfdisappointed of her Majesty’s bounty. Uponthis he took a proper opportunity to present a paperto Queen Elizabeth in the manner of a petition, inwhich he reminded her of the order she had given, inthe following lines.

I was promised on a time
To have reason for my rhime,
From that time, unto this season
I received nor rhime, nor reason.

This paper produced the intended effect, and the Queen,after sharply reproving the treasurer, immediatelydirected the payment of the hundred pounds the hadfirst ordered. In the year 1579 he was sent abroadby the Earl of Leicester, as appears by a copy of Latinverses dated from Leicester-house, and addressed tohis friend Mr. Harvey; but Mr. Hughes has not beenable to determine in what service we was employed.When the Lord Grey of Wilton was chosen Deputy of Ireland,Spenser was recommended to him as secretary. Thisdrew him over to another kingdom, and settled himin a scene of life very different from what he hadformerly known; but, that he understood, and dischargedhis employment with skill and capacity, appears sufficientlyby his discourse on the state of Ireland, in which

there are many solid and judicious remarks, that shewhim no less qualified for the business of the state,than for the entertainment of the muses. Hislife was now freed from the difficulties under whichit had hitherto struggled, and his services to theCrown received a reward of a grant from Queen Elizabethof 3000 Acres of land in the county of Cork.His house was in Kilcolman, and the river Mulla, whichhe has more than once so finely introduced in hispoems, ran through his grounds. Much about thistime, he contracted an intimate friendship with thegreat and learned Sir Walter Raleigh, who was thena captain under the lord Grey. The poem of Spenser’s,called Colin Clouts come home again, in which SirWalter Raleigh is described under the name of theShepherd of the Ocean, is a beautiful memorial of thisfriendship, which took its rise from a similarityof taste in the polite arts, and which he agreeablydescribes with a softness and delicacy peculiar tohim. Sir Walter afterwards promoted him in QueenElizabeth’s esteem, thro’ whose recommendationshe read his writings. He now fell in love asecond time with a merchant’s daughter, in which,says Mrs. Cooper, author of the muses library, hewas more successful than in his first amour.He wrote upon this occasion a beautiful epithalamium,with which he presented the lady on the bridal-day,and has consigned that day, and her, to immortality.In this pleasant easy situation our excellent poetfinished the celebrated poem of The Fairy Queen, whichwas begun and continued at different intervals of time,and of which he at first published only the threefirst books; to these were added three more in a followingedition, but the six last books (excepting the twocanto’s of mutability) were unfortunately lostby his servant whom he had in haste sent before himinto England; for tho’ he passed his life forsome time very serenely here, yet a train of misfortunesstill pursued him, and in the rebellion of the Earlof Desmond he was plundered and deprived of his estate.This distress forced him to return to England, wherefor want of his noble patron Sir Philip Sidney, hewas plunged into new calamities, as that gallant Herodied of the wounds he received at Zutphen. Itis said by Mr. Hughes, that Spenser survived his patronabout twelve years, and died the same year with hispowerful enemy the Lord Burleigh, 1598. He wasburied, says he, in Westminster-Abbey, near the famousGeoffery Chaucer, as he had desired; his obsequieswere attended by the poets of that time, and others,who paid the last honours to his memory. Severalcopies of verses were thrown after him into his grave,and his monument was erected at the charge of thefamous Robert Devereux, the unfortunate Earl of Essex.This is the account given by his editor, of the deathof Spenser, but there is some reason to believe thathe spoke only upon imagination, as he has producedno authority to support his opinion, especially asI find in a book of great reputation, another opinion,delivered upon probable grounds. The ingeniousMr. Drummond of Hawthronden, a noble wit of Scotland,had an intimate correspondence with all the genius’sof his time who resided at London, particularly thefamous Ben Johnson, who had so high an opinion ofMr. Drummond’s abilities, that he took a journeyinto Scotland in order to converse with him, and stayedsome time at his house at Hawthronden. AfterBen Johnson departed, Mr. Drummond, careful to retainwhat past betwixt them, wrote down the heads of theirconversation; which is published amongst his poemsand history of the five James’s Kings of Scotland.Amongst other particulars there is this. “BenJohnson told me that Spenser’s goods were robbedby the Irish in Desmond’s rebellion, his houseand a little child of his burnt, and he and his wifenearly escaped; that he afterwards died in King-street[4] by absolute want of bread; and that he refusedtwenty pieces sent him by the Earl of Essex [5], andgave this answer to the person who brought them, thathe was sure he had no time to spend them.”

Mr. Drummond’s works, from whence I have extractedthe above, are printed in a thin quarto, and may beseen at Mr. Wilson’s at Plato’s Head inthe Strand. I have been thus particular in thequotation, that no one may suspect such extraordinarycirc*mstances to be advanced upon imagination.In the inscription on his tomb in Westminster Abbey,it is said he was born in the year 1510, and died 1596;Cambden says 1598, but in regard to his birth theymust both be mistaken, for it is by no means probablehe was born so early as 1510, if we judge by the remarkablecirc*mstance of his standing for a fellowship in competitionwith Mr. Andrews, who was not born according to Hughestill 1555. Besides, if this account of his birthbe true, he must have been sixty years old when hefirst published his Shepherd’s Calendar, anage not very proper for love; and in this case it isno wonder, that the beautiful Rosalind slighted hisaddresses; and he must have been seventy years oldwhen he entered into business under lord Grey, whowas created deputy in Ireland 1580: for whichreasons we may fairly conclude, that the inscriptionis false, either by the error of the carver, or perhapsit was put on when the monument was repaired.

There are very few particulars of this great poet,and it must be a mortification to all lovers of theMuses, that no more can be found concerning the lifeof one who was the greatest ornament of his profession.No writer ever found a nearer way to the heart thanhe, and his verses have a peculiar happiness of recommendingthe author to our friendship as well as raising ouradmiration; one cannot read him without fancying oneselftransported into Fairy Land, and there conversingwith the Graces, in that enchanted region: Inelegance of thinking and fertility of imagination,few of our English authors have approached him, and

no writers have such power as he to awake the spiritof poetry in others. Cowley owns that he derivedinspiration from him; and I have heard the celebratedMr. James Thomson, the author of the Seasons, andjustly esteemed one of our best descriptive poets,say, that he formed himself upon Spenser; and how closelyhe pursued the model, and how nobly he has imitatedhim, whoever reads his Castle of Indolence with taste,will readily confess.

Mr. Addison, in his characters of the English Poets,addressed to Mr. Sacheverel, thus speaks of Spenser:

Old Spenser next, warm’d with poeticrage,
In ancient tales amus’d a barb’rousage;
An age, that yet uncultivate and rude,
Where-e’er the poet’s fancyled, pursued
Thro’ pathless fields, and unfrequentedfloods,
To dens of dragons, and enchanted woods.
But now the mystic tale, that pleas’dof yore,
Can charm an understanding age no more;
The long spun allegories, fulsome grow,
While the dull moral lyes too plain below.
We view well pleased at distance, allthe sights,
Of arms, and palfries, battles, fields,and fights,
And damsels in distress, and courteousknights.
But when we look too near, the shadesdecay,
And all the pleasing landscape fades away.

It is agreed on all hands, that the distresses ofour author helped to shorten his days, and indeed,when his extraordinary merit is considered, he hadthe hardest measure of any of our poets. It appearsfrom different accounts, that he was of an amiablesweet disposition, humane and generous in his nature.Besides the Fairy Queen, we find he had written severalother pieces, of which we can only trace out the titles.Among these, the most considerable were nine comedies,in imitation of the comedies of his admired Ariosto,inscribed with the names of the Nine Muses. Therest which are mentioned in his letters, and thoseof his friends, are his Dying Pelicane, his Pageants,Stemmata Dudleyana, the Canticles paraphrazed, Ecclesiastes,Seven Psalms, Hours of our Lord, Sacrifice of a Sinner,Purgatory, a S’ennight Slumber, the Court ofCupid, and Hell of Lovers. It is likewise said,he had written a treatise in prose called the EnglishPoet: as for the Epithalamion Thamesis, and hisDreams, both mentioned by himself in one of his letters,Mr. Hughes thinks they are still preserved, tho’under different names. It appears from what issaid of the Dreams by his friend Mr. Harvey, thatthey were in imitation of Petrarch’s Visions.

To produce authorities in favour of Spenser, as apoet. I should reckon an affront to his memory;that is a tribute which I shall only pay to inferiorwits, whose highest honour it is to be mentioned withrespect, by genius’s of a superior class.The works of Spenser will never perish, tho’he has introduced unnecessarily many obsolete termsinto them; there is a flow of poetry, an elegance ofsentiment, a fund of imagination, and an enchantingenthusiasm which will ever secure him the applausesof posterity while any lovers of poetry remain.

We find little account of the family which Spenserleft behind him, only that in a few particulars ofhis life prefixed to the last folio edition of hisworks, it is said that his great grandson HugolinSpenser, after the restoration of king Charles ii.was restored by the court of claims to so much ofthe lands as could be found to have been his ancestors;there is another remarkable passage of which (saysHughes) I can give the reader much better assurance:that a person came over from Ireland, in King William’stime, to sollicit the same affair, and brought withhim letters of recommendation, as a defendant of Spenser.His name procured him a favourable reception, andhe applied himself particularly to Mr. Congreve, bywhom he was generously recommended to the favour ofthe earl of Hallifax, who was then at the head ofthe treasury; and by that means he obtained his suit.This man was somewhat advanced in years, and mightbe the same mentioned before, who had possibly recoveredonly some part of his estate at first, or had beendisturbed in the possession of it. He could giveno account of the works of his ancestor, which arewanting, and which are therefore in all probabilityirrecoverably lost.

The following stanzas are said to be those with whichSir Philip Sidney was first struck.

From him returning, sad and comfortless,
As on the way together we did fare,
We met that villain (God from him me bless)
That cursed wight, from whom I ’scapedwhylear,
A man of hell that calls himself despair;
Who first us greets, and after fair areeds
Of tidings strange, and of adventuresrare:
So creeping close, as snake in hiddenweeds,
Inquireth of our states, and of our Knight’ydeeds.

Which when he knew, and felt our feeblehearts
Emboss’d with bale, and bitter-bitinggrief,
Which love had launced with his deadlydarts,
With wounding words, and terms of foulreprief,
He plucked from us all hope of due relief;
That erst us held in love of ling’ringlife;
Then hopeless, heartless, ’gan thecunning thief
Persuade us die, to stint all furtherstrife:
To me he lent this rope, to him a rustyknife.

The following is the picture.

The darksome cave they enter, where theyfind,
That cursed man, low sitting on the ground,
Musing full sadly in his sullen mind;
His greasy locks, long growing and unbound,
Disordered hung about his shoulders round,
And hid his face; through which his holloweyne,
Look’d deadly dull, and stared asastound;
His raw bone cheeks thro’ penuryand pine,
Were shrunk into his jaws, as he did neverdine,

His garments nought, but many ragged clouts,
With thorns together pinn’d andpatched was,
The which his naked sides he wrapt abouts;
And him beside, there lay upon the grass
A dreary corse, whose life away did pass,
All wallowed in his own, yet luke-warmblood,
That from his wound yet welled fresh alas;
In which a rusty knife fast fixed stood,
And made an open passage for the gushingflood.

It would perhaps be an injury to Spenser to dismisshis Life without a few remarks on that great workof his which has placed him among the foremost ofour poets, and discovered so elevated and sublime agenius. The work I mean is his allegorical poemof the Fairy Queen.

Sir William Temple in his essay on poetry, says, “thatthe religion of the Gentiles had been woven into thecontexture of all the ancient poetry with an agreeablemixture, which made the moderns affect to give thatof christianity a place also in their poems; but thetrue religion was not found to become fictitious sowell as the false one had done, and all their attemptsof this kind seemed, rather to debase religion thanheighten poetry. Spenser endeavoured to supplythis with morality, and to make instruction, insteadof story the subject of an epic poem. His executionwas excellent, and his flights of fancy very nobleand high. But his design was poor; and his morallay so bare, that it lost the effect. It is true,the pill was gilded, but so thin that the colour andthe taste were easily discovered.—­Mr. Rymerasserts, that Spenser may be reckoned the first ofour heroic poets. He had a large spirit, a sharpjudgment, and a genius for heroic poetry, perhapsabove any that ever wrote since Virgil, but our misfortuneis, he wanted a true idea, and lost himself by followingan unfaithful guide. Tho’ besides Homerand Virgil he had read Tasso, yet he rather sufferedhimself to be misled by Ariosto, with whom blindlyrambling on marvels and adventures, he makes no conscienceof probability; all is fanciful and chimerical, withoutany uniformity, or without any foundation in truth;in a word his poem is perfect Fairy-Land. Thusfar Sir William Temple, and Mr. Rymer; let us nowattend to the opinion of a greater name. Mr. Drydenin his dedication of Juvenal, thus proceeds:The English have only to boast of Spenser and Miltonin heroic poetry, who neither of them wanted eithergenius or learning to have been perfect poets, andyet both of them are liable to many censures; forthere is no uniformity in the design of Spenser; heaims at the accomplishment of no one action; he raisesup a hero for every one of his adventures, and endowseach of them with some particular moral virtue, whichrenders them all equal, without subordination or preference:Every one is valiant in his own legend; only we mustdo him the justice to observe, that magnanimity, whichis the character of prince Arthur, shines throughoutthe whole poem, and succours the rest when they arein distress. The original of every knight wasthen living in the court of Queen Elizabeth; and heattributed to each of them that virtue which he thoughtwas most conspicuous in them; an ingenious piece offlattery, tho’ it turned not much to his account.Had he lived to finish his poem in the remaining legends,it had certainly been more of a piece; but could nothave been perfect because the model was not true.

But prince Arthur, or his chief patron Sir PhilipSidney, dying before him, deprived the poet both ofmeans and spirit to accomplish his design. Forthe rest, his obsolete language, and ill choice ofhis stanza, are faults both of the second magnitude;for notwithstanding the first, he is still intelligible,at least after a little practice, and for the lasthe is more to be admired, that labouring under suchdisadvantages, his verses are so numerous, so various,and so harmonious, that only Virgil, whom he has professedlyimitated, has surpassed him among the Romans, andonly Waller among the English.”

Mr. Hughes in his essay on allegorical poetry prefixedto Spenser’s works, tells us, that this poemis conceived, wrought up, and coloured with strongerfancy, and discovers more the particular genius ofSpenser, than any of his other writings; and havingobserved that Spenser in a letter to Sir Walter Raleighcalls it, a continued allegory, or dark conceit, hegives us some remarks on allegorical poetry in general,defining allegory to be a fable or story, in which,under imaginary persons or things, is shadowed somereal action or instructive moral, or as I think, sayshe, it is somewhere very shortly defined by.Plutarch; it is that, in which one thing is, related,and another thing understood; it is a kind of poeticalpicture, or hieroglyphick, which by its apt resemblance,conveys instruction to the mind, by an analogy tothe senses, and so amuses the fancy while it informsthe understanding. Every allegory has thereforetwo senses, the literal and mystical, the literal senseis like a dream or vision, of which the mystical senseis the true meaning, or interpretation. Thiswill be more clearly apprehended by considering, thatas a simile is a more extended metaphor, so an allegoryis a kind of continued simile, or an assemblage ofsimilitudes drawn out at full length.

The chief merit of this poem, no doubt, consists inthat surprising vein of fabulous invention, whichruns through it, and enriches it every where withimagery and descriptions, more than we meet with inany other modern poem. The author seems to bepossessed of a kind of poetical magic, and the figureshe calls up to our view rise so thick upon us, thatwe are at once pleased and distracted with the exhaustlessvariety of them; so that his faults may in a mannerbe imputed to his excellencies. His abundancebetrays him into excess, and his judgment is over-bornby the torrent of his imagination. That whichseems the most liable to exception in this work isthe model of it, and the choice the author has madeof so romantic a story. The several books ratherappear like so many several poems, than one entirefable. Each of them has its peculiar knight, andis independent of the rest; and tho’ some ofthe persons make their appearance in different books,yet this has very little effect in concealing them.Prince Arthur is indeed the principal person, and has

therefore a share given him in every legend; but hispart is not considerable enough in any one of them.He appears and vanishes again like a spirit, and welose sight of him too soon to consider him as the heroof the poem. These are the most obvious defectsin the fable of the Fairy Queen. The want ofunity in the story makes it difficult for the readerto carry it in his mind, and distracts too much hisattention to the several parts of it; and indeed thewhole frame of it would appear monstrous, were itto be examined by the rules of epic poetry, as theyhave been drawn from the practice of Homer and Virgil;but as it is plain, the author never designed it bythese rules, I think it ought rather to be calleda poem of a particular kind, describing in a seriesof allegorical adventures, or episodes, the most notedvirtues and vices. To compare it therefore withthe models of antiquity, would be like drawing a parallelbetween the Roman and Gothic architecture. Inthe first, there is doubtless a more natural grandeurand simplicity; in the latter, we find great mixturesof beauty and barbarism, yet assisted by the inventionof a variety of inferior ornaments; and tho’the former is more majestic in the whole, the lattermay be very surprizing and agreeable in its parts.

[Footnote 1: Hughes’s Life of Spencer,prefixed to the edition of our author’s works.]

[Footnote 2: Hughes ubi supra,]

[Footnote 3: Winst. p. 88.]

[Footnote 4: Dublin]

[Footnote 5: The General of the English armyin Ireland.]

* * * * *

JASPER HEYWOOD,

the son of the celebrated epigramatist, was born inLondon, and in the 12th year of his age, 1517, wassent to the University, where he was educated in grammarand logic. In 1553 he took a degree in Arts, andwas immediately elected Probationer fellow of MertonCollege, where he gained a superiority over all hisfellow students in disputations at the public school.Wood informs us, that upon a third admonition, fromthe warden and society of that house, he resigned hisfellowship, to prevent expulsion, on the 4th of April,1558; he had been guilty of several misdemeanors,such as are peculiar to youth, wildness and rakishness,which in those days it seems were very severely punished.Soon after this he quitted England, and entered himselfinto the society of Jesus at St. Omer’s [1];but before he left his native country, he writ andtranslated (says Wood), these things following.

Various Poems and Devices; some of which are printedin a book called the Paradise of Dainty Devices, 1574,4to.

Hercules Furens, a Tragedy, which some have imputedto Seneca, and others have denied to be his, but itis thought by most learned men to be an imitationof that play of Euripides, which bears the same name,and tho, in contrivance and economy, they differ insome things, yet in others they agree, and Scaligerscruples not to prefer the Latin to the Greek Tragedy[2].

Troas, a Tragedy of Seneca’s, which the learnedFarnaby, and Daniel Heinsius very much commend; theformer stiling it a divine tragedy, the other preferringit to one of the same name by Euripides, both in languageand contrivance, but especially he says it far exceedsit in the chorus. In this tragedy the authorhas taken the liberty of adding several things, andaltering others, as thinking the play imperfect:First as to the additions, he has at the end of thechorus after the first act, added threescore versesof his own invention: In the beginning of thesecond act he has added a whole scene, where he introducesthe ghost of Achilles rising from hell, to requirethe sacrifice of Polyxena! to the chorus of this acthe added three stanza’s. As to his alterations,instead of translating the chorus of the third act,which is wholly taken up with the names of foreigncountries, the translation of which without notes hethought would be tiresome to the English reader, hehas substituted in its stead another chorus of hisown invention. This tragedy runs in verses offourteen syllables, and for the most part his chorusis writ in verse of ten syllables, which is calledheroic.

Thyestes, another tragedy of Seneca’s, whichin the judgment of Hiensius, is not inferior to anyother of his dramatic pieces. Our author translatedthis play when he was at Oxford; it is wrote in thesame manner of verse as the other, only the chorusis written in alternate rhime. The translatorhas added a scene at the end of the fifth act, spokenby Thyestes alone; in which he bewails his misery,and implores Heaven’s vengeance on Atreus.These plays are printed in a black letter in 4to.1581.

Langbain observes, that tho’ he cannot muchcommend the version of Heywood, as poetically elegant,as he has chosen a measure of fourteen syllables,which ever sounds harsh to the ears of those that areused to heroic poetry, yet, says he, I must do theauthor this justice, to acquaint the world, that heendeavours to give Seneca’s sense, and likewiseto imitate his verse, changing his measure, as oftenas his author, the chorus of each act being differentfrom the act itself, as the reader may observe, bycomparing the English copy with the Latin original.

After our author had spent two years in the studyof divinity amongst the priests, he was sent to Dilingin Switzerland, where he continued about seventeenyears, in explaining and discussing controverted questions,among those he called Heretics, in which time, forhis zeal for the holy mother, he was promoted to thedegree of Dr. of Divinity, and of the Four Vows.At length pope Gregory XIII. calling him away in 1581,he sent him, with others, the same year into the missionof England, and the rather because the brethren theretold his holiness, that the harvest was great, andthe labourers few [3]. Being settled then inthe metropolis of his own country, and esteemed thechief provincial of the Jesuits in England, it was

taken notice of, that he affected more the exteriorshew of a lord, than the humility of a priest, keepingas grand an equipage, as money could then furnish himwith. Dr. Fuller says, that our author was executedin the reign of Queen Elizabeth; but Sir Richard Bakertells us, that he was one of the chief of those 70priests that were taken in the year 1585; and whensome of them were condemned, and the rest in dangerof the law, her Majesty caused them all to be shipp’daway, and sent out of England. Upon Heywood’sbeing taken and committed to prison, and the earlof Warwick thereupon ready to relieve his necessity,he made a copy of verses, mentioned by Sir John Harrington,concluding with these two;

——­Thanks to that lord,that wills me good;
For I want all things, saving hay andwood.

He afterwards went to Rome, and at last settled inthe city of Naples, where he became familiarly knownto that zealous Roman Catholick, John Pitceus, whospeaks of him with great respect.

It is unknown what he wrote or published after hebecame a Jesuit. It is said that he was a greatcritic in the Hebrew language, and that he digestedan easy and short method, (reduced into tables) fornovices to learn that language, which Wood supposeswas a compendium of a Hebrew grammar. Our authorpaid the common debt of nature at Naples, 1598, andwas buried in the college of Jesuits there.

[Footnote 1: Langb. Lives of the Poets,p. 249.]

[Footnote 2: Langb. ubi supra.]

[Footnote 3: Athen. Oxon.]

* * * * *

JOHN LILLY,

A writer who flourished in the reign of Queen Elizabeth;he was a Kentish man, and in his younger years educatedat St. Mary Magdalen College in Oxon, where in theyear 1575 he took his degree of Master of Arts.He was, says Langbaine, a very close student, and muchaddicted to poetry; a proof of which he has given tothe world, in those plays which he has bequeathedto posterity, and which in that age were well esteemed,both by the court, and by the university. Hewas one of the first writers, continues Langbain, whoin those days attempted to reform the language, andpurge it from obsolete expressions. Mr. Blount,a gentleman who has made himself known to the world,by several pieces of his own writing (as Horae Subsecivae,his Microcosmography, &c.) and who published six ofthese plays, in his title page stiles him, the onlyrare poet of that time, the witty, comical, facetiouslyquick, and unparallell’d John Lilly. Mr.Blount further says, ’That he sat ’atApollo’s table; that Apollo gave him a wreathof his own bays without snatching; and that the Lyrehe played on, had no borrowed strings:’He mentions a romance of our author’s writing,called Euphues; our nation, says he, are in his debt,for a new English which he taught them; Euphues, andhis England began first that language, and all our

ladies were then his scholars, and that beauty incourt who could not read Euphism, was as little regarded,as she who now speaks not French. This extraordinaryRomance I acknowledge I have not read, so cannot frommyself give it a character, but I have some reasonto believe, that it was a miserable performance, fromthe authority of the author of the British Theatre,who in his preface thus speaks of it; “This Romance,says he, so fashionable for its wit; so famous inthe court of Queen Elizabeth, and is said to haveintroduced so remarkable a change in our language,I have seen and read. It is an unnatural affectedjargon, in which the perpetual use of metaphors, allusions,allegories, and analogies, is to pass for wit, andstiff bombast for language; and with this nonsensethe court of Queen Elizabeth (whose times affordedbetter models for stile and composition, than almostany since) became miserably infected, and greatlyhelp’d to let in all the vile pedantry of languagein the two following reigns; so much mischief the mostridiculous instrument may do, when he proposes to improveon the simplicity of nature.”

Mr. Lilly has writ the following dramatic pieces;

Alexander and Campaspe, a tragical comedy; play’dbefore the Queen’s Majesty on twelfth-night,by her Majesty’s children, and the childrenof St. Paul’s, and afterwards at the Black Fryars;printed in 12mo. London, 1632. The storyof Alexander’s bestowing Campaspe, in the enamouredApelles, is related by Pliny in his Natural History.Lib. xxxv. L. x.

Endymion, a Comedy, presented before Queen Elizabeth,by the children of her Majesty’s chaple, printedin 12mo. 1632. The story of Endymion’sbeing beloved by the moon, with comments upon it, maybe met with in most of the Mythologists. SeeLucian’s Dialogues, between Venus and the Moon.Mr. Gambauld has writ a romance called Endymion, translatedinto English, 8vo. 1639.

Galathea, a Comedy, played before the Queen at Greenwichon New year’s day, at night, by the childrenof St. Paul’s, printed in 12mo. London,1632. In the characters of Galathea and Philidia,the poet has copied the story of Iphis and Ianthe,which the reader may find at large in the ninth bookof Ovid’s Metamorphosis.

Maid’s Metamorphosis, a Comedy, acted by thechildren of St. Paul’s, printed in 12mo. 1632.

Mydas, a Comedy, played before the Queen on Twelfth-night,printed in 12mo. London, 1632. For the story,see the xith book of Ovid’s Metamorphosis.

Sappho and Phaon, a Comedy, played before the queenon Shrove-Tuesday, by the children of Paul’s,and afterwards at Black-Fryars, printed in Twelves,London 1632. This story the reader may learn fromOvid’s Epistles, of Sappho to Phaon, Ep. 21.

Woman in the Moon, presented before the Queen, London1667. Six of these plays, viz. Alexanderand Campaspe, Endymion, Galathea and Mydas, Sapphoand Phaon, with Mother Bombie, a Comedy, by the sameauthor, are printed together under the title of theSix Court-Comedies, 12mo, London 1632, and dedicatedby Mr. Blount, to the lord viscount Lumly of Waterford;the other two are printed singly in Quarto.——­Healso wrote Loves Metamorphosis, a courtly pastoral,printed 1601.

* * * * *

Sir THOMAS OVERBURY

Was son of Nicholas Overbury, Esq; of Burton in Gloucestershire,one of the Judges of the Marches[1]. He was bornwith very bright parts, and gave early discoveriesof a rising genius. In 1595, the 14th year ofhis age, he became a gentleman commoner in Queen’s-Collegein Oxford, and in 1598, as a ’squire’sson, he took the degree of batchelor of arts; he removedfrom thence to the Middle-Temple, in order to studythe municipal law, but did not long remain there[2].His genius, which was of a sprightly kind, could notbear the confinement of a student, or the drudgeryof reading law; he abandoned it therefore, and travelledinto France, where he so improved himself in politeaccomplishments, that when he returned he was lookedupon as one of the most finished gentlemen about court.

Soon after his arrival in England, he contracted anintimacy, which afterwards grew into friendship withSir Robert Carre, a Scotch gentleman, a favouritewith king James, and afterwards earl of Somerset.Such was the warmth of friendship in which these twogentlemen lived, that they were inseparable. Carrecould enter into no scheme, nor pursue any measures,without the advice and concurrence of Overbury, norcould Overbury enjoy any felicity but in the companyof him he loved; their friendship was the subjectof court-conversation, and their genius seemed somuch alike, that it was reasonable to suppose no breachcould ever be produced between them; but such it seemsis the power of woman, such the influence of beauty,that even the sacred ties of friendship are brokeasunder by the magic energy of these superior charms.Carre fell in love with lady Frances Howard, daughterto the Earl of Suffolk, and lately divorced from theEarl of Essex[3]. He communicated his passionto his friend, who was too penetrating not to knowthat no man could live with much comfort, with a womanof the Countess’s stamp, of whose morals he hada bad opinion; he insinuated to Carre some suspicions,and those well founded, against her honour; he dissuadedhim with all the warmth of the sincerest friendship,to desist from a match that would involve him in misery,and not to suffer his passion for her beauty to haveso much sway over him, as to make him sacrifice hispeace to its indulgence.

Carre, who was desperately in love, forgetting theties of honour as well as friendship, communicatedto the lady, what Overbury had said of her, and theywho have read the heart of woman, will be at no lossto conceive what reception she gave that unwelcomereport. She knew, that Carre was immoderatelyattached to Overbury, that he was directed by hisCouncil in all things, and devoted to his interest.

Earth has no curse like love to hatredturn’d,
Nor Hell a fury like a woman scorn’d.

This was literally verified in the case of the countess;she let loose all the rage of which she was capableagainst him, and as she panted for the consummationof the match between Carre and her, she so influencedthe Viscount, that he began to conceive a hatred likewiseto Overbury; and while he was thus subdued by the charmsof a wicked woman, he seemed to change his nature,and from the gentle, easy, accessible, good-naturedman he formerly appeared, he degenerated into thesullen, vindictive, and implacable. One thingwith respect to the countess ought not to be omitted.She was wife of the famous Earl of Essex, who afterwardsheaded the army of the parliament against the King,and to whom the imputation of impotence was laid.The Countess, in order to procure a divorce from herhusband, gave it out that tho’ she had beenfor some time in a married state, she was yet a virgin,and which it seems sat very uneasy upon her. Toprove this, a jury of matrons were to examine herand give their opinion, whether she was, or was nota Virgin: This scrutiny the Countess did not careto undergo, and therefore entreated the favour thatshe might enter masked to save her blushes; this wasgranted her, and she took care to have a young Ladyprovided, of much the same size and exterior appearance,who personated her, and the jury asserted her to bean unviolated Virgin. This precaution in the Countess,no doubt, diminishes her character, and is a circ*mstancenot favourable to her honour; for if her husband hadbeen really impotent as she pretended, she needednot have been afraid of the search; and it proves thatshe either injured her husband, by falsely aspersinghim, or that she had violated her honour with othermen. But which ever of these causes prevailed,had the Countess been wise enough, she had no occasionto fear the consequences of a scrutiny; for if I amrightly informed, a jury of old women can no morejudge accurately whether a woman has yielded her virginity,than they can by examining a dead body, know of whatdistemper the deceased died; but be that as it may,the whole affair is unfavourable to her modesty; itshews her a woman of irregular passions, which poorSir Thomas Overbury dearly experienced; for even afterthe Countess was happy in the embraces of the Earlof Somerset, she could not forbear the persecutionof him; she procured that Sir Thomas should be nominatedby the King to go ambassador to Russia, a destinationshe knew would displease him, it being then no betterthan a kind of honourable grave; she likewise excitedEarl Somerset to seem again his friend, and to advisehim strongly to refuse the embassy, and at the fametime insinuate, that if he should, it would only belying a few weeks in the Tower, which to a man wellprovided in all the necessaries, as well as comfortsof Life, had no great terror in it. This expedientSir Thomas embraced, and absolutely refused to goabroad; upon which, on the twenty-first of April 1613,

he was sent prisoner to the Tower, and put under thecare of Sir Gervis Yelvis, then lord lieutenant.The Countess being so far successful, began now toconceive great hopes of compleating her scheme ofassassination, and drew over the Earl of Somerset herhusband, to her party, and he who a few years before,had obtained the honour of knighthood for Overbury,was now so enraged against him, that he coincidedin taking measures to murder his friend. SirGervis Yelvis, who obtained the lieutenancy by Somerset’sinterest, was a creature devoted to his pleasure.He was a needy man, totally destitute of any principlesof honour, and was easily prevailed upon to forwarda scheme for destroying poor Overbury by poison.Accordingly they consulted with one Mrs. Turner, thefirst inventer (says Winstanley of that horrid garbof yellow ruffs and cuffs, and in which garb he wasafterwards hanged) who having acquaintance with oneJames Franklin, a man who it seems was admirably fittedto be a Cut-throat, agreed with him to provide thatwhich would not kill presently, but cause one to languishaway by degrees. The lieutenant being engagedin the conspiracy, admits one Weston, Mrs. Turner’sman, who under pretence of waiting on Sir Thomas, wasto do the horrid deed. The plot being thus formed,and success promising so fair, Franklin buys variouspoisons, White Arsenick, Mercury-Sublimate, Cantharides,Red-Mercury, with three or four other deadly ingredients,which he delivered to Weston, with instructions howto use them; who put them into his broth and meat,increasing and diminishing their strength accordingas he saw him affected; besides these, the Countesssent him by way of present, poisoned tarts and jellies:but Overbury being of a strong constitution, heldlong out against their influence: his body brokeout in blotches and blains, which occasioned the reportindustriously propagated by Somerset, of his havingdied of the French Disease. At last they producedhis death by the application of a poisoned clyster,by which he next day in painful agonies expired.Thus (says Winstanley) “by the malice of a womanthat worthy Knight was murthered, who yet still livesin that witty poem of his, entitled, A Wife, as iswell expressed by the verses under his picture.”

A man’s best fortune or his worst’sa wife,
Yet I, that knew no marriage, peace norstrife
Live by a good one, by a bad one lostmy life.

Of all crimes which the heart of man conceives, asnone is so enormous as murder, so it more frequentlymeets punishment in this life than any other.This barbarous assassination was soon revealed; fornotwithstanding what the conspirators had given out,suspicions ran high that Sir Thomas was poisoned;upon which Weston was strictly examined by Lord Cook,who before his lordship persisted in denying the same;but the Bishop of London afterwards conversing withhim, pressing the thing home to his conscience, andopening all the terrors of another life to his mind,

he was moved to confess the whole. He relatedhow Mrs. Turner and the Countess became acquainted,and discovered all those who were any way concernedin it; upon which they were all apprehended, and somesent to Newgate, and others to the Tower. Havingthus confessed, and being convicted according to duecourse of law, he was hanged at Tyburn, after him Mrs.Turner, after her Franklin, then Sir Gervis Yelvis,being found guilty on their several arraignments,were executed; some of them died penitent. TheEarl and the Countess were both condemned, but notwithstandingtheir guilt being greater than any of the other criminals,the King, to the astonishment of all his subjects,forgave them, but they were both forbid to appearat court.

There was something strangely unaccountable in thebehaviour of Somerset after condemnation. Whenhe was asked what he thought of his condition, andif he was preparing to die, he answered, that he thoughtnot of it at all, for he was sure the King durst notcommand him to be executed. This ridiculous boastingand bidding defiance to his majesty’s power,was construed by some in a very odd manner; and therewere not wanting those who asserted, that Somersetwas privy to a secret of the King’s, which ifit had been revealed, would have produced the strangestconsternation in the kingdom that ever was known,and drawn down infamy upon his majesty for ever; butas nothing can be ascertained concerning it, it mightseem unfair to impute to this silly Prince more faultsthan he perhaps committed: It is certain he wasthe slave of his favourites, and not the most shockingcrime in them, it seems, could entirely alienate hisaffections, and it is doubtful whether the savingof Somerset or the execution of Raleigh reflects mostdisgrace upon his reign. Some have said, thatthe body of Sir Thomas Overbury was thrown into anobscure pit; but Wood, says it appears from the Towerregisters, that it was interred in the chapel; whichseems more probable. There is an epitaph whichWinstanley has preserved, written by our author uponhimself, which I shall here insert, as it serves toillustrate his versification.

The span of my days measured here I rest,
That is, my body; but my soul, his guest
Is hence ascended, whither, neither time,
Nor faith, nor hope, but only love canclimb,
Where being new enlightened, she dothknow
The truth, of all men argue of below:
Only this dust, doth here in pawn remain,
That when the world dissolves, she comeagain.

The works of Overbury besides his Wife, which is reckonedthe wittiest and most finished of all, are, firstCharacters, or witty descriptions of the prophesiesof sundry persons. This piece has relation tosome characters of his own time, which can affordlittle satisfaction to a modern reader.

Second, The Remedy of Love in two parts, a poem 1620,Octavo, 2s.

Third, Observations in his Travels, on the State.of the seventeen Provinces, as they stood anno 1609.

Fourth, Observations on the Provinces united, andthe state of France, printed London 1631.

Sir Thomas was about 32 years old when he was murthered,and is said to have possessed an accuteness, and strengthof parts that was astonishing; and some have relatedthat he was proud of his abilities, and over-bearingin company; but as there is no good authority for theassertion, it is more agreeable to candour to believehim the amiable knight Winstanley draws him; as itseldom happens that a soul formed for the noble qualityof friendship is haughty and insolent. There isa tragedy of Sir Thomas Overbury wrote by the lateRichard Savage, son of earl Rivers, which was actedin 1723, (by what was then usually called The SummerCompany) with success; of which we shall speak moreat large in the life of that unfortunate gentleman.

[Footnote 1: Wood Athen. Oxon.]

[Footnote 2: Winst. ubi supra.]

[Footnote 3: Winst. ubi supra.]

* * * * *

JOHN MARSTEN.

There are few things on record concerning this poet’slife. Wood says, that he was a student in Corpus-ChristiCollege, Oxon; but in what country he was born, orof what family descended, is no where fixed.Mr. Langbain says, he can recover no other informationof him, than what he learned from the testimony ofhis bookseller, which is, “That he was freefrom all obscene speeches, which is the chief causeof making plays odious to virtuous and modest persons;but he abhorred such writers and their works, andprofessed himself an enemy to all such as stuffedtheir scenes with ribaldry, and larded their lineswith scurrilous taunts, and jests, so that whatsoevereven in the spring of his years he presented uponthe private and public theatre, in his autumn anddeclining age he needed not to to be ashamed of.”He lived in friendship with the famous Ben Johnson,as appears by his addressing to his name a tragi-comedy,called Male-Content: but we afterwards find himreflecting pretty severely on Ben, on account of hisCataline and Sejanus, as the reader will find on theperusal of Marsten’s Epistle, prefixed to Sophonisba.—­“Know,says he, that I have not laboured in this poem, torelate any thing as an historian, but to enlarge everything as a poet. To transcribe authors, quoteauthorities, and to translate Latin prose orationsinto English blank verse, hath in this subject beenthe least aim of my studies.”——­Langbainobserves, that none who are acquainted with the worksof Johnson can doubt that he is meant here, if theywill compare the orations in Salust with those in Cataline.On what provocation Marsten thus censured his friendis unknown, but the practice has been too frequentlypursued, so true is it, as Mr. Gay observes of thewits, that they are oft game co*cks to one another,and sometimes verify the couplet.

That they are still prepared to praiseor to abhor
us,
Satire they have, and panegyric for us.——­

Marsten has contributed eight plays to the stage,which were all acted at the Black Fryars with applause,and one of them called the Dutch Courtezan, was oncerevived since the Restoration, under the title ofthe Revenge, or a Match in [1]Newgate. In theyear 1633 six of this author’s plays were collatedand published in one volume, and dedicated to thelady viscountess Faulkland. His dramatic worksare these:

Antonio and Melida, a history, acted by the childrenof St. Paul’s, printed in 1633.

Antonius’s Revenge; or the second part of Antonioand Melida. These two plays were printed in Octavoseveral years before the new edition.

Dutch Courtezan, a comedy frequently played at BlackFryars, by the children of the Queen’s Revels,printed in London 1633. It is taken from a Frenchbook called Les Contes du Mende. See the samestory in English, in a book of Novels, called thePalace of Pleasure in the last Novel.

Insatiate Countess, a Tragedy, acted at White-Fryars,printed in Quarto 1603, under the title of Isabellathe insatiable countess of Suevia. It is saidthat he meant Joan the first queen of Jerusalem, Naples,and Sicily. The life of this queen has employedmany pens, both on poetry and novels. Bandellohas related her story under the title of the InordinateLife of the Countess of Celant. The like storyis related in God’s Revenge against Adultery,under the name of Anne of Werdenberg, duch*ess of Ulme.

Male Content, a Tragi Comedy, dedicated to old Ben,as I have already taken notice, in which he heapsmany fine epithets upon him. The first designof this play was laid by Mr. Webster.

Parasitaster; or the Fawn, a comedy, often presentedat the Black Fryars, by the children of the queen’sRevels, printed in Octavo 1633. This play wasformerly printed in quarto, 1606. The Plot ofDulcimers cozening the Duke by a pretended discoveryof Tiberco’s love to her, is taken from Boccace’sNovels.

What you will, a comedy, printed Octavo, London, 1653.This is said to be one of our author’s bestplays. The design taken from Plautus’sAmphitrion.

Wonder of Women, or Sophonisba, a tragedy, acted atBlack Fryars, printed in Octavo, 1633. The Englishreader will find this story described by Sir WalterRaleigh, in his history of the world. B. 5.

Besides his dramatic poetry he writ three books ofSatires, entitled, The Scourge of Villany, printedin Octavo, London 1598. We have no account inwhat year our author died, but we find that his workswere published after his death by the great Shakespear,and it may perhaps be reasonably concluded that itwas about the year 1614.

[Footnote 1: The late Mr. C. Bullock, a comedian,and some time manager of Lincoln’s-Inn-Fieldstheatre, made a play from that piece.]

* * * * *

WILLIAM SHAKESPEAR.

There have been some ages in which providence seemedpleased in a most remarkable manner to display itself, in giving to the world the finest genius’sto illuminate a people formerly barbarous. Aftera long night of Gothic ignorance, after many agesof priestcraft and superstition, learning and geniusvisited our Island in the days of the renowned QueenElizabeth. It was then that liberty began to dawn,and the people having shook off the restraints of priestlyausterity, presumed to think for themselves.At an AEra so remarkable as this, so famous in history,it seems no wonder that the nation would be blessedwith those immortal ornaments of wit and learning,who all conspired at once to make it famous.——­Thisastonishing genius, seemed to be commissioned fromabove, to deliver us not only from the ignorance underwhich we laboured as to poetry, but to carry poetryalmost to its perfection. But to write a panegyricon Shakespear appears as unnecessary, as the attemptwould be vain; for whoever has any taste for whatis great, terrible, or tender, may meet with the amplestgratification in Shakespear; as may those also havea taste for drollery and true humour. His geniuswas almost boundless, and he succeeded alike in everypart of writing. I cannot forbear giving thecharacter of Shakespear in the words of a great genius,in a prologue spoken by Mr. Garrick when he firstopened Drury-lane house as Manager.

When learning’s triumph o’erher barb’rous foes,
First rear’d the stage;——­immortalShakespear rose,
Each change of many-coloured life he drew,
Exhausted worlds, and then imagined new,
Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign,
And panting time toiled after him, invain.

All men have discovered a curiosity to know the littlestories and particularities of a great genius; forit often happens, that when we attend a man to hiscloset, and watch his moments of solitude, we shallfind such expressions drop from him, or we may observesuch instances of peculiar conduct, as will let usmore into his real character, than ever we can discoverwhile we converse with him in public, and when perhapshe appears under a kind of mask. There are butfew things known of this great man; few incidents ofhis life have descended to posterity, and tho’no doubt the fame of his abilities made a great noisein the age in which he flourished; yet his stationwas not such as to produce many incidents, as it wassubject to but few vicissitudes. Mr. Rowe, whowell understood, and greatly admired Shakespear, hasbeen at pains to collect what incidents were known,or were to be found concerning him, and it is chieflyupon Mr. Rowe’s authority we build the accountnow given.

Our author was the son of John Shakespear, and wasborn at Stratford upon Avon in Warwickshire, April1564, at it appears by public records relating tothat town. The family from which he is descendedwas of good figure and fashion there, and are mentionedas gentlemen. His father, who was a considerabledealer in wool, being incumbred with a large familyof ten children, could afford to give his eldest sonbut a slender education. He had bred him at afree school, where he acquired what Latin he was masterof, but how well he understood that language, or whetherafter his leaving the school he made greater proficiencyin it, has been disputed and is a point very difficultto settle. However it is certain, that Mr. JohnShakespear, our author’s father, was obligedto withdraw him early from school, in order to havehis assistance in his own employment, towards supportingthe rest of the family. “It is withoutcontroversy, says Rowe, that in his works we scarcefind any traces that look like an imitation of theancients. The delicacy of his taste, and the naturalbent of his own great genius, equal, if not superiorto some of the best of theirs, would certainly haveled him to read and study them with so much pleasure,that some of their fine images would naturally haveinsinuated themselves into, and been mixed with hisown writings; so that his not copying at least somethingfrom them, may be an argument of his never havingread them. Whether his ignorance of the ancientswas disadvantageous to him or no, may admit of dispute;for tho’ the knowledge of them might have madehim more correct, yet it is not improbable, but thatthe regularity and deference for them which wouldhave attended that correctness, might have restrainedsome of that fire, impetuosity, and even beautifulextravagance, which we cannot help admiring in Shakespear.”

As to his want of learning, Mr. Pope makes the followingjust observation: That there is certainly a vastdifference between learning and languages. Howfar he was ignorant of the latter, I cannot (sayshe) determine; but it is plain he had much reading,at least, if they will not call it learning; nor isit any great matter if a man has knowledge, whetherhe has it from one language or from another.Nothing is more evident, than that he had a taste fornatural philosophy, mechanics, ancient and modernhistory, poetical learning, and mythology. Wefind him very knowing in the customs, rites, and mannersof the Romans. In Coriolanus, and Julius Caesar,not only the spirit but manners of the Romans areexactly drawn; and still a nicer distinction is shewnbetween the manners of the Romans in the time of theformer and the latter. His reading in the ancienthistorians is no less conspicuous, in many referencesto particular passages; and the speeches copied fromPlutarch in Coriolanus may as well be made instancesof his learning as those copied from Cicero in theCataline of Ben Johnson. The manners of other

nations in general, the AEgyptians, Venetians, French,&c. are drawn with equal propriety. Whateverobject of nature, or branch of science, he either speaksor describes, it is always with competent, if notextensive, knowledge. His descriptions are stillexact, and his metaphors appropriated, and remarkablydrawn from the nature and inherent qualities of eachsubject.——­We have translations fromOvid published in his name, among those poems whichpass for his, and for some of which we have undoubtedauthority, being published by himself, and dedicatedto the Earl of Southampton. He appears also tohave been conversant with Plautus, from whence hehas taken the plot of one of his plays; he followsthe Greek authors, and particularly Dares Phrygiusin another, although I will not pretend, continuesMr. Pope, to say in what language he read them.

Mr. Warburton has strongly contended for Shakespear’slearning, and has produced many imitations and parallelpassages with ancient authors, in which I am inclinedto think him right, and beg leave to produce few instancesof it. He always, says Mr. Warbur-ton, makesan ancient speak the language of an ancient. SoJulius Caesar, Act I. Scene ii.

——­Ye Gods, it doth amazsme, A man of such a feeble temper should So getthe start of the majestic world, And bear the palmalone.

This noble image is taken from the Olympic games.This majestic world is a fine periphrasis of the RomanEmpire; majestic, because the Romans ranked themselveson a footing with kings, and a world, because theycalled their empire Orbis Romanus; but the whole storyseems to allude to Caesar’s great exemplar,Alexander, who, when he was asked whether he wouldrun the course of the Olympic games, replied, ’Yes,if the racers were kings.’—­So againin Anthony and Cleopatra, Act I. Scene I. Anthonysays with an astonishing sublimity,

Let Rome in Tyber melt, and the wide arch
Of the razed Empire fall.

Taken from the Roman custom of raising triumphal archesto perpetuate their victories.

And again, Act iii. Scene iv.Octavia says to Anthony, of the difference betweenhim and her brother,

“Wars ’twixt you twain wouldbe
As if the world should cleave, and thatslain men
Should solder up the reft”——­

This thought seems taken from the story of Curtiusleaping into the Chasm in the Forum, in order to closeit, so that, as that was closed by one Roman, if thewhole world were to cleave, Romans only could solderit up. The metaphor of soldering is extreamlyexact, according to Mr. Warburton; for, says he, asmetal is soldered up by metal that is more refinedthan that which it solders, so the earth was to besoldered by men, who are only a more refined earth.

The manners of other nations in general, the Egyptians,Venetians, French, etc. are drawn with equalpropriety. An instance of this shall be producedwith regard to the Venetians. In the Merchantof Venice, Act iv. Scene I.

——­His losses
That have of late so huddled on his back,
Enough to press a royal merchant down.

We are not to imagine the word royal to be a randomsounding epithet. It is used with great proprietyby the poet, and designed to shew him well acquaintedwith the history of the people, whom he here bringsupon the stage. For when the French and Venetiansin the beginning of the thirteenth century, had wonConstantinople, the French under the Emperor Henryendeavoured to extend their conquests, in the provincesof the Grecian empire on the Terra firma, while theVenetians being masters of the sea, gave liberty toany subject of the Republic, who would fit out vesselsto make themselves masters of the isles of the Archipelagoand other maritime places, to enjoy their conquestsin sovereignty, only doing homage to the Republicfor their several principalities. In pursuanceof this licence the Sanudo’s, the Justiniani,the Grimaldi, the Summaripa’s, and others, allVenetian merchants, erected principalities in theseveral places of the Archipelago, and thereby becametruly, and properly Royal Merchants.

But there are several places which one cannot forbearthinking a translation from classic writers.

In the Tempest Act V. Scene ii. Prosperosays,

--------I have------Called forth the mutinous windsAnd ’twixt the green sea, and the azured vaultSet roaring war; to the dread ratling thunder,Have I given fire, and rifted Jove’s stout oak,With his own bolt; the strong bas’d promontory,Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluckt upThe pine and cedar; graves at my commandHave waked their sleepers, op’d and let them forthBy my so potent art.

So Medea in Ovid’s Metamorphoses,

Stantia concutio cantu freta; nubila pello,
Nubilaque induco, ventos abigoque, vocoque;
Vivaque faxa sua convulsaque robora terra
Et sylvas moveo; jubeoque tremiscere montes,
Et mugire solum, manesque exire sepulchris.

But to return to the incidents of his life: Uponhis quitting the grammar school, he seems, to haveentirely devoted himself to that way of living whichhis father proposed, and in order to settle in theworld after a family manner, thought fit to marry whilehe was yet very young. His wife was the daughterof one Hatchway, said to have been a substantial Yeomanin the neighbourhood of Stratford. In this kindof domestic obscurity he continued for some time, tillby an unhappy instance of misconduct, he was obligedto quit the place of his nativity, and take shelterin London, which luckily proved the occasion of displayingone of the greatest genius’s that ever was knownin dramatic poetry. He had the misfortune to fallinto ill company: Among these were some who madea frequent practice of Deer-stealing, and who engagedhim more than once in robbing a park that belongedto Sir Thomas Lucy of Charlecot near Stratford; forwhich he was prosecuted by that gentleman, as he thought

somewhat too severely; and in order to revenge himselfof this supposed ill usage, he made a ballad uponhim; and tho’ this, probably the first essayof his poetry, be lost, yet it is said to have beenso very bitter, that it redoubled the prosecutionagainst him to that degree, that he was obliged toleave his business and family for some time, and shelterhimself in London. This Sir Thomas Lucy, was,it is said, afterwards ridiculed by Shakespear, underthe well known character of Justice Shallow.

It is at this time, and upon this accident, that heis said to have made his first acquaintance in theplayhouse. Here I cannot forbear relating a storywhich Sir William Davenant told Mr. Betterton, whocommunicated it to Mr. Rowe; Rowe told it Mr. Pope,and Mr. Pope told it to Dr. Newton, the late editorof Milton, and from a gentleman, who heard it fromhim, ’tis here related.

Concerning Shakespear’s first appearance inthe playhouse. When he came to London, he waswithout money and friends, and being a stranger heknew not to whom to apply, nor by what means to supporthimself.——­At that time coaches notbeing in use, and as gentlemen were accustomed toride to the playhouse, Shakespear, driven to the lastnecessity, went to the playhouse door, and pick’dup a little money by taking care of the gentlemenshorses who came to the play; he became eminent evenin that profession, and was taken notice of for hisdiligence and skill in it; he had soon more businessthan he himself could manage, and at last hired boysunder him, who were known by the name of Shakespear’sboys: Some of the players accidentally conversingwith him, found him so acute, and master of so finea conversation, that struck therewith, they and recommendedhim to the house, in which he was first admitted ina very low station, but he did not long remain so,for he soon distinguished himself, if not as an extraordinaryactor, at least as a fine writer. His name ispainted, as the custom was in those times, amongstthose of the other players, before some old plays,but without any particular account of what sort ofparts he used to play: and Mr. Rowe says, “thattho’ he very carefully enquired, he found thetop of his performance was the ghost in his own Hamlet.”“I should have been much more pleased,”continues Rowe, “to have learned from some certainauthority which was the first play he writ; it wouldbe without doubt, a pleasure to any man curious inthings of this kind, to see and know what was the firstessay of a fancy like Shakespear’s.”The highest date which Rowe has been able to trace,is Romeo and Juliet, in 1597, when the author wasthirty-three years old; and Richard ii and iiithe next year, viz. the thirty-fourth of hisage. Tho’ the order of time in which hisseveral pieces were written be generally uncertain,yet there are passages in some few of them, that seemto fix their dates. So the chorus at the endof the fourth act of Henry V by a compliment very handsomely

turned to the Earl of Essex, shews the play to havebeen written when that Lord was general to the queenin Ireland; and his eulogium upon Queen Elizabeth,and her successor King James in the latter end of hisHenry VIII is a proof of that play’s being writtenafter the accession of the latter of these two princesto the throne of England. Whatever the particulartimes of his writing were, the people of the age helived in, who began to grow wonderfully fond of diversionsof this kind, could not but be highly pleased to seea genius arise amongst them, of so pleasurable, sorich a vein, and and so plentifully capable of furnishingtheir favourite entertainments. Besides the advantagewhich Shakespear had over all men in the article ofwit, he was of a sweet, gentle, amiable disposition,and was a most agreeable companion; so that he becamedear to all that knew him, both as a friend and asa poet, and by that means was introduced to the bestcompany, and held conversation with the finest charactersof his time. Queen Elizabeth had several of hisplays acted before her, and that princess was tooquick a discerner, and rewarder of merit, to sufferthat of Shakespear to be neglected. It is thatmaiden princess plainly whom he intends by

——­A fair vestal, thronedby the West.

Midsummer night dream.

And in the same play he gives us a poetical and livelyrepresentation of the Queen of Scots, and the fateshe met with,

——­Thou rememb’restSince once I sat upon a promontory, And hearda sea-maid on a dolphin’s back, Uttering suchdulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude seagrew civil at her song, And certain stars shot madlyfrom their spheres, To hear the sea-maid’smusic.

Queen Elizabeth was so well pleased with the admirablecharacter of Falstaff in the two parts of Henry iv.that she commanded him to continue it in one playmore, and to make him in love. This is said tohave been the occasion of his writing the Merry Wivesof Windsor. How well she was obeyed, the playitself is a proof; and here I cannot help observing,that a poet seldom succeeds in any subject assignedhim, so well as that which is his own choice, and wherehe has the liberty of selecting: Nothing is morecertain than that Shakespear has failed in the MerryWives of Windsor. And tho’ that comedy isnot without merit, yet it falls short of his otherplays in which Falstaff is introduced, and that Knightis not half so witty in the Merry Wives of Windsoras in Henry iv. The humour is scarcely natural,and does not excite to laughter so much as the other.It appears by the epilogue to Henry iv. thatthe part of Falstaff was written originally underthe name of Oldcastle. Some of that family beingthen remaining, the Queen was pleased to command himto alter it, upon which he made use of the name ofFalstaff. The first offence was indeed avoided,but I am not sure whether the author might not besomewhat to blame in his second choice, since it iscertain, that Sir John Falstaff who was a knight ofthe garter, and a lieutenant-general, was a name ofdistinguished merit in the wars with France, in HenryV. and Henry VIth’s time.

Shakespear, besides the Queen’s bounty, waspatronized by the Earl of Southampton, famous in thehistory of that time for his friendship to the unfortunateEarl of Essex. It was to that nobleman he dedicatedhis poem of Venus and Adonis, and it is reported, thathis lordship gave our author a thousand pounds toenable him to go through with a purchase he heardhe had a mind to make. A bounty at that time veryconsiderable, as money then was valued: thereare few instances of such liberality in our times.

There is no certain account when Shakespear quittedthe stage for a private life. Some have thoughtthat Spenser’s Thalia in the Tears of the Muses,where she laments the loss of her Willy in the comicscene, relates to our poet’s abandoning thestage. But it is well known that Spenser himselfdied in the year 1598, and five years after this wefind Shakespear’s name amongst the actors inBen Johnson’s Sejanus, which first made itsappearance in the year 1603, nor could he then haveany thoughts of retiring, since that very year, a licenseby King James the first was granted to him, with Burbage,Philipps, Hemmings, Condel, &c. to exercise the artof playing comedies, tragedies, &c. as well at theirusual house called the Globe on the other side thewater, as in any other parts of the kingdom, duringhis Majesty’s pleasure. This license isprinted in Rymer’s Faedera; besides it is certain,Shakespear did not write Macbeth till after the accessionof James I. which he did as a compliment to him, ashe there embraces the doctrine of witches, of whichhis Majesty was so fond that he wrote a book calledDaemonalogy, in defence of their existence; and likewiseat that time began to touch for the Evil, which Shakespearhas taken notice of, and paid him a fine turned compliment.So that what Spenser there says, if it relates atall to Shakespear, must hint at some occasional recesswhich he made for a time.

What particular friendships he contracted with privatemen, we cannot at this time know, more than that everyone who had a true taste for merit, and could distinguishmen, had generally a just value and esteem for him.His exceeding candour and good nature must certainlyhave inclined all the gentler part of the world tolove him, as the power of his wit obliged the menof the most refined knowledge and polite learningto admire him. His acquaintance with Ben Johnsonbegan with a remarkable piece of humanity and goodnature: Mr. Johnson, who was at that time altogetherunknown to the world, had offered one of his playsto the stage, in order to have it acted, and the personinto whose hands it was put, after having turned itcarelessly over, was just upon returning it to himwith an ill-natured answer, that it would be of noservice to their company, when Shakespeare luckilycast his eye upon it, and found something so wellin it, as to engage him first to read it through,and afterwards to recommend Mr. Johnson and his writingsto the public.

The latter part of our author’s life was spentin ease and retirement, he had the good fortune togather an estate, equal to his wants, and in thatto his wish, and is said to have spent some years beforehis death in his native Stratford. His pleasantwit and good nature engaged him in the acquaintance,and entitled him to the friendship, of the gentlemenof the neighbourhood. It is still remembered inthat county, that he had a particular intimacy withone Mr. Combe, an old gentleman, noted thereaboutsfor his wealth and usury. It happened that ina pleasant conversation amongst their common friends,Mr. Combe merrily told Shakespear, that he fanciedhe intended to write his epitaph, if he happened toout-live him; and since he could not know what mightbe said of him when dead, he desired it might be doneimmediately; upon which Shakespear gave him these lines.

Ten in the hundred lyes here engraved,
’Tis a hundred to ten his soul isnot saved:
If any man asketh who lies in this tomb?
Oh! oh! quoth the Devil, ’tis myJohn-a-Combe.

But the sharpness of the satire is said to have stungthe man so severely, that he never forgave it.

Shakespear died in the fifty-third year of his age,and was buried on the North side of the chancel inthe great church at Stratford, where a monument isplaced on the wall. The following is the inscriptionon his grave-stone.

Good friend, for Jesus sake forbear,
To dig the dust inclosed here.
Blest be the man that spares these stones,
And curs’d be he that moves my bones.
He had three daughters, of whom two lived to be married;Judith the elder to Mr. Thomas Quincy, by whom shehad three sons, who all died without children, andSusannah, who was his favourite, to Dr. John Hall,a physician of good reputation in that county.She left one child, a daughter, who was married toThomas Nash, Esq; and afterwards to Sir John Bernard,of Abington, but deceased likewise without issue.

His dramatic writings were first published togetherin folio 1623 by some of the actors of the differentcompanies they had been acted in, and perhaps by otherservants of the theatre into whose hands copies mighthave fallen, and since republished by Mr. Rowe, Mr.Pope, Mr. Theobald, Sir Thomas Hanmer, and Mr. Warburton.

Ben Johnson in his discoveries has made a sort ofessay towards the character of Shakespear. Ishall present it the reader in his own words,

’I remember the players have often mentionedit as an honour to Shakespear, that in writing henever blotted out a line. My answer hath been,would he had blotted out a thousand! which they thoughta malevolent speech. I had not told posteritythis, but for their ignorance, who chuse that circ*mstanceto commend their friend by, wherein he most faulted;and to justify my own character (for I lov’dthe man, and do honour to his memory, on this sideidolatry, as much as any). He was indeed honest,

and of an open free nature, had an excellent fancy,brave notions, and gentle expressions, wherein heflowed with that facility, that sometimes it was necessaryhe should be stopp’d. His wit was in hisown power: would the rule of it had been so.Many times he fell into those things which could notescape laughter, as when he said in the person ofCaesar, one speaking to him, “Caesar thou dostme wrong.”

He replied, “Caesar did never wrong, but withjust cause;”

’And such like, which were ridiculous; but heredeemed his vices with his virtues; there was evermore in them to be praised, than to be pardoned.’Ben in his conversation with Mr. Drumond of Hawthornden,said, that Shakespear wanted art, and sometimes sense.The truth is, Ben was himself a better critic thanpoet, and though he was ready at discovering the faultsof Shakespear, yet he was not master of such a genius,as to rise to his excellencies; and great as Johnsonwas, he appears not a little tinctured with envy.Notwithstanding the defects of Shakespear, he is justlyelevated above all other dramatic writers. Ifever any author deserved the name of original (saysPope) it was he: [1] ’His poetry was inspirationindeed; he is not so much an imitator, as instrumentof nature; and it is not so just to say of him thathe speaks from her, as that she speaks through him.His characters are so much nature herself, that itis a sort of injury to call them by so distant a nameas copies of her. The power over our passionswas likewise never possessed in so eminent a degree,or displayed in so many different instances, nor washe more a matter of the great, than of the ridiculousin human nature, nor only excelled in the passions,since he was full as admirable in the coolness ofreflection and reasoning: His sentiments are notonly in general the most pertinent and judicious uponevery subject, but by a talent very peculiar, somethingbetween penetration and felicity, he hits upon thatparticular point, on which the bent of each argument,or the force of each motive depends.’

Our author’s plays are to be distinguished onlyinto Comedies and Tragedies. Those which arecalled Histories, and even some of his Comedies, arereally Tragedies, with a mixture of Comedy amongstthem. That way of Tragi-comedy was the commonmistake of that age, and is indeed become so agreeableto the English taste, that though the severer criticsamong us cannot bear it, yet the generality of ouraudiences seem better pleased with it than an exactTragedy. There is certainly a great deal of entertainmentin his comic humours, and a pleasing and well distinguishedvariety in those characters he thought fit to exhibitwith. His images are indeed every where so lively,that the thing he would represent stands full beforeyou, and you possess every part of it; of which thisinstance is astonishing: it is an image of patience.Speaking of a maid in love, he says,

------She never told her love,But let concealment, like a worm i’th’bud,Feed on her damask cheek: She pin’d in thought,And sat like patience on a monument.Smiling at grief.

But what is characteristically the talent of Shakespear,and which perhaps is the most excellent part of thedrama, is the manners of his persons, in acting andin speaking what is proper for them, and fit to beshewn by the Poet, in making an apparent differencebetween his characters, and marking every one in thestrongest manner.

Poets who have not a little succeeded in writing forthe stage, have yet fallen short of their great originalin the general power of the drama; none ever foundso ready a road to the heart; his tender scenes areinexpressibly moving, and such as are meant to raiseterror, are no less alarming; but then Shakespearedoes not much shine when he is considered by particularpassages; he sometimes debases the noblest imagesin nature by expressions which are too vulgar for poetry.The ingenious author of the Rambler has observed,that in the invocation of Macbeth, before he proceedsto the murder of Duncan, when he thus expresses himself,

---------Come thick nightAnd veil thee, in the dunnest smoke of hell,Nor heaven peep thro’ the blanket of the dark,To cry hold, hold.

That the words dunnest and blanket, which are so commonin vulgar mouths, destroy in some manner the grandeurof the image, and were two words of a higher signification,and removed above common use, put in their place,I may challenge poetry itself to furnish an imageso noble. Poets of an inferior class, when consideredby particular passages, are excellent, but then theirideas are not so great, their drama is not so striking,and it is plain enough that they possess not soulsso elevated as Shakespeare’s. What can bemore beautiful than the flowing enchantments of Rowe;the delicate and tender touches of Otway and Southern,or the melting enthusiasm of Lee and Dryden, but yetnone of their pieces have affected the human heartlike Shakespeare’s.

But I cannot conclude the character of Shakespeare,without taking notice, that besides the suffrage ofalmost all wits since his time in his favour, he isparticularly happy in that of Dryden, who had readand studied him clearly, sometimes borrowed from him,and well knew where his strength lay. In hisPrologue to the Tempest altered, he has the followinglines;

Shakespear, who taught by none, did firstimpart,
To Fletcher wit, to lab’ring Johnson,art.
He, monarch-like gave there his subjectslaw,
And is that nature which they paint anddraw;
Fletcher reached that, which on his heightsdid grow,
While Johnson crept, and gathered allbelow:
This did his love, and this his mirthdigest,
One imitates him most, the other best.
If they have since outwrit all other men,
’Tis from the drops which fell from

Shakespear’s pen.
The storm[2] which vanished on the neighb’ringshore
Was taught by Shakespear’s Tempestfirst to roar.
That innocence and beauty which did smile
In Fletcher, grew in this Inchanted Isle.
But Shakespear’s magic could notcopied be,
Within that circle none durst walk buthe.

The plays of this great author, which are forty-threein number, are as follows,

1. The Tempest, a Comedy acted in the Black Fryarswith applause.

2. The Two Gentlemen of Verona, a Comedy writat the command of Queen Elizabeth.

3. The first and second part of King Henry ivthe character of Falstaff in these plays is justlyesteemed a master-piece; in the second part is thecoronation of King Henry V. These are founded uponEnglish Chronicles.

4. The Merry Wives of Windsor, a Comedy, writtenat the command of Queen Elizabeth.

5. Measure for Measure, a Comedy; the plot ofthis play is taken from Cynthio Ciralni.

6. The Comedy of Errors, founded upon Plautus’sMaenechmi.

7. Much Ado About Nothing, a Comedy; for theplot see Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso.

8. Love’s Labour Lost, a Comedy.

9. Midsummer’s Night’s Dream, a Comedy.

10. The Merchant of Venice, a Tragi-Comedy.

11. As you Like it, a Comedy.

12. The Taming of a Shrew, a Comedy.

13. All’s Well that Ends Well.

14. The Twelfth-Night, or What you Will, a Comedy.In this play there is something singularly ridiculousin the fantastical steward Malvolio; part of the plottaken from Plautus’s Maenechmi.

15. The Winter’s Tale, a Tragi-Comedy;for the plot of this play consult Dorastus and Faunia.

16. The Life and Death of King John, an historicalplay.

17. The Life and Death of King Richard ii.a Tragedy.

18. The Life of King Henry V. an historical play.

19. The First Part of King Henry VI. an historicalplay.

20. The Second Part of King Henry VI. with thedeath of the good Duke Humphrey.

21. The Third Part of King Henry VI. with thedeath of the Duke of York. These plays containthe whole reign of this monarch.

22. The Life and Death of Richard iii. withthe landing of the Earl of Richmond, and the battleof Bosworth field. In this part Mr. Garrick wasfirst distinguished.

23. The famous history of the Life of King HenryVIII.

24. Troilus and Cressida, a Tragedy; the plotfrom Chaucer.

25. Coriolanus, a Tragedy; the story from theRoman History.

26. Titus Andronicus, a Tragedy.

27. Romeo and Juliet, a Tragedy; the plot fromBandello’s Novels. This is perhaps oneof the most affecting plays of Shakespear: itwas not long since acted fourteen nights togetherat both houses, at the same time, and it was a fewyears before revived and acted twelve nights withapplause at the little theatre in the Hay market.

28. Timon of Athens, a Tragedy; the plot fromLucian’s Dialogues.

29. Julius Caesar, a Tragedy.

30. The Tragedy of Macbeth; the plot from Buchanan,and other Scotch writers.

31. Hamlet Prince of Denmark, a Tragedy.

32. King Lear, a Tragedy; for the plot see Leland,Monmouth.

33. Othello the Moor of Venice, a Tragedy; theplot from Cynthio’s Novels.

34. Anthony and Cleopatra; the story from Plutarch.

35. Cymbeline, a Tragedy; the plot from Boccace’sNovels.

36. Pericles Prince of Tyre, an historical play.

37. The London Prodigal, a Comedy.

38. The Life and Death of Thomas Lord Cromwell,the favourite of King Henry VIII.

39. The History of Sir John Oldcastle, the goodLord Cobham, a Tragedy. See Fox’s Bookof Martyrs.

40. The Puritan, or the Widow of Watling-street,a Comedy.

41. A Yorkshire Tragedy; this is rather an Interludethan a Tragedy, being very short, and not dividedinto Acts.

42. The Tragedy of Locrine, the eldest son ofKing Brutus. See the story in Milton’sHistory of England.

Our age, which demonstrates its taste in nothing sotruly and justly as in the admiration it pays to theworks of Shakespear, has had the honour of raisinga monument for him in Westminster Abbey; to effectwhich, the Tragedy of Julius Caesar was acted at theTheatre Royal in Drury Lane, April 28, 1738, and theprofits arising from it deposited in the hands ofthe earl of Burlington, Mr. Pope, Dr. Mead, and others,in order to be laid out upon the said monument.A new Prologue and Epilogue were spoken on that occasion;the Prologue was written by Benjamin Martyn esquire;the Epilogue by the hon. James Noel esquire,and spoke by Mrs. Porter. On Shakespear’smonument there is a noble epitaph, taken from hisown Tempest, and is excellently appropriated to him;with this let us close his life, only with this observation,that his works will never be forgot, ’till thatepitaph is fulfilled.—­When

The cloud capt towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself
And all which it inherit shall dissolve,
And like the baseless fabric of a vision
Leave not a wreck behind.

[Footnote 1: Preface to Shakespear]

[Footnote 2: Alluding to the sea voyage of Fletcher.]

* * * * *

JOSHUA SYLVESTER,

The translator of the famous Du Bartas’s Weeksand Works; was cotemporary with George Chapman, andflourished in the end of Elizabeth and King James’sreign; he was called by the poets in his time, thesilver-tongu’d Sylvester, but it is doubtfulwhether he received any academical education.In his early years he is reported to have been a merchantadventurer.[1] Queen Elizabeth is said to have had

a respect for him, her successor still a greater, andPrince Henry greater than his father; the prince sovalued our bard, that he made him his first Poet-Pensioner.He was not more celebrated for his poetry, than hisextraordinary private virtues, his sobriety and sincereattachment to the duties of religion. He was alsoremarkable for his fortitude and resolution in combatingadversity: we are further told that he was perfectlyacquainted with the French, Italian, Latin, Dutchand Spanish languages. And it is related of him,that by endeavouring to correct the vices of the timeswith too much asperity, he exposed himself to theresentment of those in power, who signified theirdispleasure, to the mortification and trouble of theauthor. Our poet gained more reputation by thetranslation of Du Bartas, than by any of his own compositions.Besides his Weeks and Works, he translated severalother productions of that author, namely, Eden[2],the Deceit, the Furies, the Handicrafts, the Ark, Babylon,the Colonies, the Columns, the Fathers, Jonas, Urania,Triumph of Faith, Miracle of Peace, the Vocation,the Daw; the Captains, the Trophies, the Magnificence,&c. also a Paradox of Odes de la Nove, Baron of Teligniwith the Quadrians of Pibeac; all which translationswere generally well received; but for his own works,which were bound up with them, they received not,says Winstanley, so general an approbation, as maybe seen by these verses:

We know thou dost well,
As a translator
But where things require
A genius and fire,

Not kindled before by others pains,
As often thou hast wanted brains.

In the year 1618 this author died at Middleburgh inZealand, aged 55 years, and had the following epitaphmade on him by his great admirer John Vicars beforementioned,but we do not find that it was put upon his tomb-stone.

Here lies (death’s too rich prize)the corpse interr’d
Of Joshua Sylvester Du Bartas Pier;
A man of arts best parts, to God, man,dear;
In foremost rank of poets best preferr’d.

[Footnote 1: Athenae Oxon. p. 594.]

[Footnote 2: Winstanley, Lives of the Poets,p. 109.]

* * * * *

SAMUEL DANIEL

Was the son of a music master, and born near Tauntonin Somersetshire, in the year 1562. In 1579 hewas admitted a commoner in Magdalen Hall in Oxford,where he remained about three years, and by the assistanceof an excellent tutor, made a very great proficiencyin academical learning; but his genius inclining himmore to studies of a gayer and softer kind, he quittedthe University, and applied himself to history andpoetry. His own merit, added to the recommendationof his brother in law, (John Florio, so well knownfor his Italian Dictionary) procured him the patronageof Queen Anne, the consort of King James I. who waspleased to confer on him the honour of being one of

the Grooms of the Privy-Chamber, which enabled himto rent a house near London, where privately he composedmany of his dramatic pieces. He was tutor toLady Ann Clifford, and on the death of the great Spenser,he was appointed Poet Laureat to Queen Elizabeth.Towards the end of his life he retired to a farm whichhe had at Beckington near Philips Norton in Somersetshire,where after some time spent in the service of theMuses, and in religious contemplation, he died in theyear 1619. He left no issue by his wife Justina,to whom he was married several years. Wood says,that in the wall over his grave there is this inscription;

Here lies expecting the second comingof our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, the dead bodyof Samuel Daniel esquire, that excellent poet andhistorian, who was tutor to Lady Ann Clifford inher youth, she that was daughter and heir to GeorgeClifford earl of Cumberland; who in gratitude tohim erected this monument to his memory a long timeafter, when she was Countess Dowager of Pembroke,Dorset and Montgomery. He died in October,Anno 1619.

Mr. Daniel’s poetical works, consisting of dramaticand other pieces, are as follow;

1. The Complaint of Rosamond.

2. A Letter from Octavia to Marcus Antonius,8vo. 1611.

These two pieces resemble each other, both in subjectand stile, being written in the Ovidian manner, withgreat tenderness and variety of passion. Themeasure is Stanzas of seven lines. Let the followingspecimen shew the harmony and delicacy of his numbers,where he makes Rosamond speak of beauty in as expressivea manner as description can reach.

Ah! beauty Syren, fair inchanting good,
Sweet silent rhetoric of persuading eyes;
Dumb eloquence whose power doth move theblood,
More than the words or wisdom of the wife;
Still harmony whose diapason lies, Withina brow; the key
which passionsmove,
To ravish sense, and play a world in love.

3. Hymen’s Triumph, a Pastoral Tragi-Comedypresented at the Queen’s Court in the Strand,at her Majesty’s entertainment of the King, atthe nuptials of lord Roxborough, London, 1623, 4to.It is introduced by a pretty contrived Prologue byway of dialogue, in which Hymen is opposed by avarice,envy and jealousy; in this piece our author sometimestouches the passions with a very delicate hand.

4. The Queen’s Arcadia, a Pastoral Tragi-Comedy,presented before her Majesty by the university ofOxford, London 1623, 4to.

5. The Vision of the Twelve Goddesses, presentedin a Masque the 8th of January at Hampton-Court, bythe Queen’s most excellent Majesty and her Ladies.London 1604, 8vo. and 1623, 4to. It is dedicatedto the Lady Lucy, countess of Bedford. His designunder the shapes, and in the persons of the TwelveGoddesses, was to shadow out the blessings which thenation enjoyed, under the peaceful reign of King JamesI. By Juno was represented Power; by Pallas Wisdomand Defence; by Venus, Love and Amity; by Vesta, Religion;by Diana, Chastity; by Proserpine, Riches; by Macaria,Felicity; by Concordia, the Union of Hearts; by Astraea,Justice; by Flora, the Beauties of the Earth; by Ceres,Plenty; and by Tathys, Naval Power.

6. The Tragedy of Philotas, 1611, 8vo. it isdedicated to the Prince, afterwards King Charles I.

This play met with some opposition, because it wasreported that the character of Philotas was drawnfor the unfortunate earl of Essex, which obliged theauthor to vindicate himself from this charge, in anapology printed at the end of the play; both this play,and that of Cleopatra, are written after the mannerof the ancients, with a chorus between each act.

7. The History of the Civil Wars between theHouses of York and Lancaster, a Poem in eight books,London, 1604, in 8vo. and 1623, 4to. with his picturebefore it.

8. A Funeral Poem on the Death of the Earl ofDevonshire, London, 1603, 4to.

9. A Panegyric Congratulatory, delivered to theKing at Burleigh-Harrington in Rutlandshire, 1604and 1623, 4to.

10. Epistles to various great Personages in Verse,London, 1601 and 1623, 4to.

11. The Passion of a Distressed Man, who beingon a tempest on the sea, and having in his boat twowomen (of whom he loved the one who disdained him,and scorned the other who loved him) was, by commandof Neptune, to cast out one of them to appease therage of the tempest, but which was referred to hisown choice. If the reader is curious to knowthe determination of this man’s choice, it issummed up in the concluding line of the poem.

She must be cast away, that would notsave.

12. Musophilus, a Defence of Learning; writtendialogue-wise, addressed to Sir Fulk Greville.

13. Various Sonnets to Delia, 57 in number.

14. An Ode. 15. A Pastoral. 16. A Descriptionof Beauty. 17. To the Angel Spirit of Sir PhilipSidney. 18. A Defence of Rhime. All thesepieces are published together in two volumes, 12 mo.under the title of the poetical pieces of Mr. SamuelDaniel.

But however well qualified our author’s geniuswas for poetry, yet Langbain is of opinion that hishistory is the crown of all his works. It wasprinted about the year 1613, and dedicated to QueenAnne. It reaches from the state of Britain underthe Romans, to the beginning of the reign of Richardii. His history has received encomiums fromvarious hands, as well as his poetry: It was continuedby John Trusul, with like brevity and candour, butnot with equal elegance, ’till the reign ofRichard iii. A.D. 1484. Mr. Daniel livedrespected by men of worth and fashion, he passed throughlife without tasting many of the vicissitudes of fortune;he seems to have been a second rate genius, and atolerable versifier; his poetry in some places is tender,but want of fire is his characteristical fault.He was unhappy in the choice of his subject of a civilwar for a poem, which obliged him to descend to minutedescriptions, and nothing merely narrative can properlybe touched in poetry, which demands flights of theimagination and bold images.

* * * * *

Sir John Harrington,

Born at Kelston near the city of Bath, was the sonof John Harrington esquire, who was imprisoned inthe Tower in the reign of Queen Mary, for holdinga correspondence with the Lady Elizabeth; with whomhe was in great favour after her accession to thecrown, and received many testimonies of her bountyand gratitude. Sir John, our author, had thehonour to be her god-son, and both in respect to hisfather’s merit, and his own, he was so happyto possess her esteem to the last[1]. He hadthe rudiments of his education at Eaton; thence removingto Cambridge, he there commenced master of arts, andbefore he arrived at his 30th year, he favoured theworld with a translation of the Orlando Furioso ofAriosto, by which he acquired some reputation.After this work, he composed four books of epigrams,which in those times were received with great applause;several of these mention another humorous piece ofhis called Misacmos Metatmorphosis, which for a whileexposed him to her Majesty’s resentment, yethe was afterwards received into favour. This(says Mrs. Cooper) is not added to the rest of hisworks, and therefore she supposes was only meant fora Court amusem*nt, not the entertainment of the public,or the increase of his fame. In the reign ofKing James I. he was created Knight of the Bath[2],and presented a manuscript to Prince Henry, calleda Brief View of the State of the Church of England,as it stood in Queen Elizabeth and King James’sreign in the year 1608. This piece was levelledchiefly against the married bishops, and was intendedonly for the private use of his Highness, but wassome years afterwards published by one of Sir John’sgrandsons, and occasioned much displeasure from theclergy, who did not fail to recollect that his conductwas of a piece with his doctrines, as he, togetherwith Robert earl of Leicester, supported Sir WalterRaleigh in his suit to Queen Elizabeth for the manorof Banwell, belonging to the bishopric of Bath andWells, on the presumption that the right reverend incumbenthad incurred a Premunire, by marrying a second wife.

Sir John appears to be a gentleman of great pleasantryand humour; his fortune was easy, the court his element,and which is ever an advantage to an author, wit wasnot his business, but diversion: ’Tis notto be doubted, but his translation of Ariosto was publishedafter Spenser’s Fairy Queen, and yet both inlanguage and numbers it is much inferior, as muchas it is reasonable to suppose the genius of Harringtonwas below that of Spenser.

Mrs. Cooper remarks, that the whole poem of Orlandois a tedious medley of unnatural characters, and improbableevents, and that the author’s patron, CardinalHippolito De Este, had some reason for that severequestion. Where the devil, Signior Ludovico, didyou pick up all these damned lies? The geniusof Ariosto seems infinitely more fit for satire thanheroic poetry; and some are of opinion, that had Harringtonwrote nothing but epigrams, he had been more in hisown way.

We cannot certainly fix the time that Sir John died,but it is reasonable to suppose that it was aboutthe middle, or rather towards the latter end of JamesI’s reign. I shall subjoin an epigram ofhis as a specimen of his poetry.

In CORNUTUM.

What curl’d pate youth is he thatsitteth there,
So near thy wife, and whispers in hereare,
And takes her hand in his, and soft dothwring her.
Sliding his ring still up and down herfinger?
Sir, ’tis a proctor, seen in boththe lawes,
Retain’d by her in some importantcause;
Prompt and discreet both in his speechand action,
And doth her business with great satisfaction.
And think’st thou so? a horn-plagueon thy head!
Art thou so-like a fool, and wittol led,
To think he doth the bus’ness ofthy wife?
He doth thy bus’ness, I dare laymy life.

[Footnote 1: Muses Library, p. 296.]

[Footnote 2: Ubi supra.]

* * * * *

THOMAS DECKER,

A poet who lived in the reign of King James I. andas he was cotemporary with Ben Johnson, so he becamemore eminent by having a quarrel with that great man,than by all his works. Decker was but an indifferentpoet, yet even in those days he wanted not his admirers;he had also friends among the poets; one of whom, Mr.Richard Brome, always called him Father; but it isthe misfortune of little wits, that their admirersare as inconsiderable as themselves, for Brome’sapplauses confer no great honour on those who enjoythem. Our author joined with Webster in writingthree plays, and with Rowley and Ford in another;and Langbaine asserts, that these plays in which heonly contributed a part, far exceed those of his owncomposition. He has been concerned in elevenplays, eight whereof are of his own writing, of allwhich I shall give an account in their alphabeticalorder.

I. Fortunatus, a comedy, printed originally in 4tobut with what success, or when acted, I cannot gainany account.

II. Honest whor*, the first part; a comedy, withthe humours of the Patient Man, and the Longing Wife,acted by the Queen’s Servants, 1635.

III. Honest whor*, the second part, a comedy;with the humours of the Patient Man, the ImpatientWife; the Honest whor* persuaded by strong argumentsto turn Courtezan again; her refusing those arguments,and lastly the comical passage of an Italian bridewel,where the scene ends. Printed in 4to, London1630. This play Langbaine thinks was never exhibited,neither is it divided into acts.

IV. If this be not a good play the devil is init; a comedy, acted with great applause by the Queen’smajesty’s servants, at the Red-Bull, and dedicatedto the actors. The beginning of this play seemsto be writ in imitation of Machiavel’s novelof Belphegor, where Pluto summons the Devils to council.

Match me in London, a Tragi-Comedy, often presented,first at the Bull’s head in St. John’s-street,and then at a private house in Drury-lane, calledthe Phoenix, printed in 4to. in 1631.

VI. Northward Ho, a comedy, often acted by thechildren of Paul’s, printed in 4to. London,1607. This play was writ by our author and JohnWebster.

VII. Satyromastix, or the untrussing the humourouspoet, a comical satire, presented publickly by theLord Chamberlain’s servants, and privately bythe children of Paul’s, printed in 4to, 1602,and dedicated to the world. This play was writon the occasion of Ben Johnson’s Poetaster,for some account of which see the Life of Johnson.

VIII. Westward Ho,[1] a comedy, often acted bythe children of Paul’s, and printed in 4to.1607; written by our author and Mr. Webster.

IX. whor* of Babylon, an history acted by theprince’s servants, and printed in 4to.London 1607. The design of this play, by feignednames, is to set forth the admirable virtues of queenElizabeth; and the dangers she escaped by the happydiscovery of those designs against her sacred personby the Jesuits and bigotted Papists.

X. Wyatt’s History, a play said to be writ byhim and Webster, and printed in 4to. The subjectof this play is Sir Thomas Wyat of Kent, who madean insurrection in the first year of Queen Mary, toprevent her match with Philip of Spain.

Besides these plays he joined with Rowley and Fordin a play called, The Witch of Edmonton, of whichsee Rowley.

There are four other plays ascribed to our author,in which he is said by Mr. Phillips and Winstanleyto be an associate with John Webster, viz.Noble Stranger; New Trick to cheat the Devil; Weakestgoes to the Wall; Woman will have her Will; in allwhich Langbaine asserts they are mistaken, for thefirst was written by Lewis Sharp, and the other byanonymous authors.

[Footnote 1: This was revived in the year 1751,at Drury-lane theatre on the Lord Mayor’s day,in the room of the London Cuckolds, which is now discontinuedat that house.]

* * * * *

BEAUMONT and FLETCHER

Were two famous dramatists in the reign of James I.These two friends were so closely united as authors,and are so jointly concerned in the applauses andcensures bestowed upon their plays, that it cannotbe thought improper to connect their lives under onearticle.

Mr. Francis Beaumont

Was descended from the ancient family of his name,seated at Grace dieu in Leicestershire,[1] and wasborn about the year 1585 in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.His grandfather, John Beaumont, was Master of theRolls, and his father Francis Beaumont, one of theJudges of the Common Pleas. Our poet had hiseducation at Cambridge,[2]but of what college we arenot informed, nor is it very material to know.

We find him afterwards admitted a student in the Inner-Temple,but we have no account of his making any proficiencyin the law, which is a circ*mstance attending almostall the poets who were bred to that profession, whichfew men of sprightly genius care to be confined to.Before he was thirty years of age he died, in 1615,and was buried the ninth of the same month in theentrance of St. Benedictine’s Chapel, withinSt. Peter’s Westminster. We meet with noinscription on his tomb, but there are two epitaphswrit on him, one by his elder brother Sir John Beaumont,and the other by Bishop Corbet. That by his brotheris pretty enough, and is as follows:

On Death, thy murderer, this revenge Itake:
I slight his terror, and just questionmake,
Which of us two the best precedence have,
Mine to this wretched world, thine tothe grave.
Thou should’st have followed me,but Death to blame
Miscounted years, and measured age byfame.
So dearly hast thou bought thy preciouslines;
Thy praise grew swiftly, so thy life declines.
Thy muse, the hearer’s queen, thereader’s love
All ears, all hearts, but Death’scould please and move.

Our poet left behind him one daughter, Mrs. FrancesBeaumont, who lived to a great age and, died in Leicestershiresince the year 1700. She had been possessed ofseveral poems of her father’s writing, but theywere lost at sea in her voyage from Ireland, whereshe had lived sometime in the Duke of Ormond’sfamily. Besides the plays in which Beaumont wasjointly concerned with Fletcher, he writ a littledramatic piece entitled, A Masque of Grays Inn Gentlemen,and the Inner-Temple; a poetical epistle to Ben Johnson;verses to his friend Mr. John Fletcher, upon his faithfulShepherd, and other poem’s printed togetherin 1653, 8vo. That pastoral which was writtenby Fletcher alone, having met with but an indifferentreception, Beaumont addressed the following copy ofverses to him on that occasion, in which he representsthe hazard of writing for the stage, and satirizesthe audience for want of judgment, which, in orderto shew his versification I shall insert.

Why should the man, whose wit ne’erhad a stain,
Upon the public stage present his vein,
And make a thousand men in judgment sit
To call in question his undoubted wit,
Scarce two of which can understand thelaws,
Which they should judge by, nor the party’scause.
Among the rout there is not one that hath,
In his own censure an explicit faith.
One company, knowing thy judgment Jack,
Ground their belief on the next man inblack;
Others on him that makes signs and ismute,
Some like, as he does, in the fairestsute;
He as his mistress doth, and me by chance:
Nor want there those, who, as the boydoth dance
Between the acts will censure the wholeplay;
Some, if the wax lights be not new thatday:
But multitudes there are, whose judgmentgoes
Headlong, according to the actors clothes.

Mr. Beaumont was esteemed so accurate a judge of plays,that Ben Johnson, while he lived, submitted all hiswritings to his censures; and it is thought, usedhis judgment in correcting, if not contriving mostof his plots.

[Footnote 1: Jacob’s Lives of the Poets.]

[Footnote 2: Wood.]

* * * * *

Mr. JOHN FLETCHER

Was son of Dr. Richard Fletcher, Lord Bishop of London,and was born in Northamptonshire in the year 1576.He was educated at Cambridge, probably at Burnet-college,to which his father was by his last will and testamenta benefactor[1]. He wrote plays jointly with Mr.Beaumont, and Wood says he assisted Ben Johnson ina Comedy called The Widow. After Beaumont’sdeath, it is said he consulted Mr. James Shirley informing the plots of several of his plays, but whichthose were we have no means of discovering. Theeditor of Beaumont and Fletcher’s plays in 1711thinks it very probable that Shirley supplied manythat were left imperfect, and that the players gavesome remains of Fletcher’s for Shirley to makeup; and it is from hence (he says) that in the firstact of Love’s Pilgrimage, there is a scene ofan ostler transcribed verbatim out of Ben Johnson’sNew Inn, Act I. Scene I. which play was written longafter Fletcher died, and transplanted into Love’sPilgrimage, after printing the New Inn, which was inthe year 1630, and two of the plays printed underFletcher’s name. The Coronation and TheLittle Thief have been claimed by Shirley as his;it is probable they were left imperfect by the one,and finished by the other. Mr. Fletcher diedof the plague in the forty ninth year of his age,the first of King Charles I. An. 1625, and was buriedin St. Mary Overy’s Church in Southwark.

Beaumont and Fletcher, as has been observed, wroteplays in concert, but what share each bore in formingthe plots, writing the scenes, &c. is unknown.The general opinion is, that Beaumont’s judgmentwas usually employed in correcting and retrenchingthe superfluities of Fletcher’s wit, whose faultwas, as Mr. Cartwright expresses it, to do too much;but if Winstanley may be credited, the former had hisshare likewise in the drama, for that author relates,that our poets meeting once at a tavern in order toform the rude draught of a tragedy, Fletcher undertookto kill the king, which words being overheard by awaiter, he was officious enough, in order to recommendhimself, to lodge an information against them:but their loyalty being unquestioned, and the relationof the circ*mstance probable, that the vengeance wasonly aimed at a theatrical monarch, the affair endedin a jest.

The first play which brought them into esteem, asDryden says, was Philaster, or Love lies a Bleeding;for, before that, they had written two or three veryunsuccessfully, as the like is reported of Ben Johnsonbefore he writ Every Man in his Humour. Theseauthors had with the advantage of the wit of Shakespear,which was their precedent, great natural gifts improvedby study. Their plots are allowed generally moreregular than Shakespear’s; they touch the tenderpassions, and excite love in a very moving manner;their faults, notwithstanding Beaumont’s castigation,consist in a certain luxuriance, and stretching theirspeeches to an immoderate length;[2] however, it mustbe owned their wit is great, their language suitedto the passions they raise, and the age in which theylived is a sufficient apology for their defects.Mr. Dryden tells us, in his Essay on Dramatic Poetry,that Beaumont and Fletcher’s plays in his timewere the most pleasing and frequent entertainmentsof the stage, two of theirs being acted through theyear for one of Shakespear’s or Johnson’s;and the reason he assigns is, because there is a certaingaiety in their comedies, and a pathos in their mostserious plays which suits generally with all men’shumours; but however it might be when Dryden writ,the case is now reversed, for Beaumont and Fletcher’splays are not acted above once a season, while oneof Shakespear’s is represented almost everythird night. It may seem strange, that wits ofthe first magnitude should not be so much honouredin the age in which they live, as by posterity;[3]it is now fashionable to be in raptures with Shakespear;editions are multiplied upon editions, and men ofthe greatest genius have employed all their powerin illustrating his beauties, which ever grow uponthe reader, and gain ground upon perusal. Thesenoble authors have received incense of praise fromthe highest pens; they were loved and esteemed bytheir cotemporaries, who have not failed to demonstratetheir respect by various copies of verses at differenttimes, and upon different occasions, addressed tothem, the insertion of which would exceed the boundsproposed for this work. I shall only observe,that amongst the illustrious names of their admirers,are Denham, Waller, Cartwright, Ben Johnson, Sir JohnBerkenhead, and Dryden himself, a name more than equalto all the rest. But the works of our authorshave not escaped the censure of critics, especiallyMr. Rhymer the historiographer, who was really a manof wit and judgment, but somewhat ill natured; forhe has laboured to expose the faults, without takingany notice of the beauties of Rollo Duke of Normandy,the King and No King, and the Maids Tragedy, in a pieceof his called The Tragedies of the Last Age considered,and examined by the practice of the ancients, andby the common sense of all ages, in a letter to FleetwoodShepherd esquire. Mr. Rymer sent one of his booksas a present to Mr. Dryden, who in the blank leaves

before the beginning, and after the end of the book,made several remarks, as if he intended to publishan answer to that critic, and his opinion of the workwas this[4]; “My judgment (says he) of this piece,is, that it is extremely learned, but the author seemsbetter acquainted with the Greek, than the Englishpoets; that all writers ought to study this criticas the best account I have seen of the ancients; thatthe model of tragedy he has here given is extremelycorrect, but that it is not the only model of tragedy,because it is too much circ*mscribed in the plot,characters, &c. And lastly, that we may be taughthere justly to admire and imitate the ancients, withoutgiving them the preference, with this author, in prejudiceto our own country.”

Some of Beaumont and Fletcher’s plays were printedin quarto during the lives of their authors; and inthe year 1645 twenty years after Fletcher’sdeath, there was published in folio a collection oftheir plays which had not been printed before, amountingto between thirty and forty. At the beginningof this volume are inserted a great number of commendatoryverses, written by the most eminent wits of that age.This collection was published by Mr. Shirley aftershutting up the Theatres, and dedicated to the earlof Pembroke by ten of the most famous actors.In 1679 there was an edition of all their plays publishedin folio. Another edition in 1711 by Tonson inseven volumes 8vo. containing all the verses in praiseof the authors, and supplying a large omission ofpart of the last act of Thierry and Theodoret.There was also another edition in 1751. The playsof our authors are as follow,

1. Beggars Bush, a Comedy, acted with applause.

2. Bonduca, a Tragedy; the plot from Tacitus’sAnnals, b. xiv. Milton’s History of England,b. ii. This play has been twice revived.

3. The Bloody Brother, or Rollo Duke of Normandy,a Tragedy, acted at the Theatre at Dorset-Garden.The plot is taken from Herodian’s History, b.iv.

4. Captain, a Comedy.

5. Chances, a Comedy; this was revived by Villiersduke of Buckingham with great applause.

6. The Coronation, a Tragi-Comedy, claimed byMr. Shirley as his.

7. The Coxcomb, a Comedy.

8. Cupid’s Revenge, a Tragedy.

9. The Custom of the Country, a Tragi-Comedy;the plot taken from Malispini’s Novels, Dec.6. Nov. 6.

10. Double Marriage, a Tragedy.

11. The Elder Brother, a Comedy,

13. The Faithful Shepherdess, a Dramatic Pastoral,first acted on a twelfth-night at Somerset House.This was entirely Mr. Fletcher’s, and insteadof a Prologue was sung a Dialogue, between a priestand a nymph, written by Sir William Davenant, andthe Epilogue was spoken by the Lady Mordant, but metwith no success.

13. The Fair Maid of the Inn, a Comedy; partof this play is taken from Causin’s Holy Court,and Wanley’s History of Man.

14. The False One; a Tragedy, founded on theAdventures of Julius Caesar in Egypt, and his amourswith Cleopatra.

15. Four Plays in One, or Moral Representations,containing the triumphs of honour, love, death andtime, from Boccace’s Novels.

16. The Honest Man’s Fortune, a Tragi-Comedy;the plot from Heywood’s History of Warner.

17. The Humourous Lieutenant, a Tragi-Comedy,still acted with applause.

18. The Island Princess, a Tragi-Comedy, revivedin 1687 by Mr. Tate.

19. A King and No King, a Tragi-Comedy, actedwith applause.

20. The Knight of the Burning Pestle, a Comedy,revived also with a Prologue spoken by the famousNell Gwyn.

21. The Knight of Malta, a Tragi-comedy.

22. The Laws of Candy, a Tragi-Comedy.

23. The Little French Lawyer, a Comedy; the plotfrom Gusman, or the Spanish Rogue.

24. Love’s Cure, or the Martial Maid, aComedy.

25. The Lover’s Pilgrimage, a Comedy; theplot is taken from a novel called the Two Damsels,and some incidents from Ben Jonson’s New Inn.

26. The Lovers Progress, a Tragi-Comedy; builton a French romance called Lysander and Calista.

27. The Loyal Subject, a Comedy.

28. The Mad Lover, a Tragi-Comedy.

29. The Maid in the Mill, a Comedy. Thiswas revised and acted on the duke of York’sTheatre.

30. The Maid’s Tragedy; a play always actedwith the greatest applause, but some part of it displeasingCharles ii, it was for a time forbid to be actedin that reign, till it was revived by Mr. Waller,who entirely altering the last act, it was broughton the stage again with universal applause.

31. A Masque of Grays Inn Gentlemen, presentedat the marriage of the Princess Elizabeth and thePrince Palatine of the Rhine, in the Banqueting Houseat Whitehall. This piece was written by Mr. Beaumontalone.

32. Monsieur Thomas, a Comedy. This playhas been since acted on the stage, under the titleof Trick for Trick.

33. Nice Valour, or the Passionate Madman, aComedy.

34. The Night-walker, or the Little Thief, aComedy, revived since the Restoration with applause.

35. The Noble Gentleman, a Comedy; this was revivedby Mr. Durfey, and by him called The Fool’sPreferment, at the Three Dukes of Dunstable.

36. Philaster, or Love lies a Bleeding, a Tragi-Comedy.This was the first play that brought these fine writersinto esteem. It was first represented at theold Theatre in Lincolns Inn Fields, when the womenacted by themselves.

37. The Pilgrim, a Comedy; revived and actedwith success.

38. The Prophetess, a Tragi-Comedy. Thisplay has been revived by Mr. Betterton, under thetitle of Dioclesian, an Opera.

39. The Queen of Cornish, a Tragi-Comedy.

40. Rule a Wife and Have a Wife, a Comedy.

41. The Scornful Lady, a Comedy; acted with greatapplause.

42. The Sea Voyage, a Comedy; revived by Mr.Durfey, who calls it The Commonwealth of Women.It would appear by the lines we have quoted p. 141,life of Shakespear, that it was taken from Shakespear’sTempest.

43. The Spanish Curate, a Comedy, several timesrevived with applause; the plot from Gerardo’sHistory of Don John, p. 202, and his Spanish Curate,p. 214.

44. Thiery and Theodoret, a Tragedy; the plottaken from the French Chronicles, in the reign ofColsair ii.

45. Two Noble Kinsmen, a Tragi-comedy; Shakespearassisted Fletcher in composing this play.

46. Valentinian, a Tragedy; afterwards revivedand altered by the Earl of Rochester.

47. A Wife for a Month, a Tragedy; for the plotsee Mariana and Louis de Mayerne Turquet, Historyof Sancho, the eighth King of Leon.

48. The Wild-Goose Chace, a Comedy, formerlyacted with applause.

49. Wit at Several Weapons, a Comedy.

50. Wit without Money, a Comedy, revived at theOld House in Lincolns Inn Fields, immediately afterthe burning of the Theatre in Drury Lane, with a newPrologue by Mr. Dryden.

51. The Woman Hater, a Comedy, revived by SirWilliam Davenant, with a new Prologue in prose.This play was writ by Fletcher alone.

52. Women pleased, a Comedy; the plot from Boccace’sNovels,

53. Woman’s Prize, or the Tanner Tann’d,a Comedy, built on the same foundation with Shakespear’sTaming of a Shrew; writ by Fletcher without Beaumont.

Mr. Beaumont writ besides his dramatic pieces, a volumeof poems, elegies, sonnets, &c.

* * * * *

THOMAS LODGE

Was descended from a family of his name living inLincolnshire, but whether born there, is not ascertained.He made his first appearance at the university ofOxford about the year 1573, and was afterwards a scholarunder the learned Mr. Edward Hobye of Trinity College;where, says Wood, making very early advances, hisingenuity began first to be observed, in several ofhis poetical compositions. After he had takenone degree in arts, and dedicated some time to readingthe bards of antiquity, he gained some reputationin poetry, particularly of the satiric species; butbeing convinced how barren a foil poetry is, and howunlikely to yield a competent provision for its professors,he studied physic, for the improvement of which hewent beyond sea, took the degree of Dr. of that facultyat Avignon, returned and was incorporated in the universityin the latter end of Queen Elizabeth’s reign:Afterwards settling in London, he practised physicwith great success, and was particularly encouragedby the Roman Catholics, of which persuasion it issaid he was.

Our author hath written

Alarm against Usurers, containing tried experiencesagainst worldly abuses, London 1584.

History of Forbonius and Prisaeria, with Truth’sComplaint over England.

Euphue’s Golden Legacy.

The Wounds of a Civil War livelily set forth, in thetrue Tragedies of
Marius and Sylla, London 1594.

Looking Glass for London and England, a Tragi-Comedyprinted in 4to. London 1598, in an old blackletter. In this play our author was assistedby Mr. Robert Green. The drama is founded uponholy writ, being the History of Jonah and the Ninevites,formed into a play. Mr. Langbain supposes theychose this subject, in imitation of others who hadwrit dramas on sacred themes long before them; as Ezekiel,a Jewish dramatic poet, writ the Deliverance of theIsraelites out of Egypt: Gregory Nazianzen, oras some say, Apollinarius of Laodicea, writ the Tragedyof Christ’s Passion; to these may be added

Hugo Grotius, Theodore Beza, Petavius, all of whomhave built upon the foundation of sacred history.

Treatise on the Plague, containing the nature, signs,and accidents of the same, London 1603.

Treatise in Defence of Plays. This (says Wood)I have not yet seen, nor his pastoral songs and madrigals,of which he writ a considerable number.

He also translated into English, Josephus’sHistory of the Antiquity of the Jews, London 1602.The works both moral and natural of Seneca, London1614. This learned gentleman died in the year1625, and had tributes paid to his memory by manyof his cotemporary poets, who characterised him asa man of very considerable genius. Winstanleyhas preserved an amorous sonnet of his, which we shallhere insert.

If I must die, O let me chuse my death:Suck out my soul with kisses, cruel maid! Inthy breasts crystal balls, embalm my breath, Doleit all out in sighs, when I am laid; Thy lips onmine like cupping glasses clasp; Let our tonguesmeet, and strive as they would sting: Crushout my wind with one straight-girting grasp, Stabson my heart keep time while thou dost sing. Thyeyes like searing irons burn out mine; In thy fairtresses stifle me outright: Like Circe, changeme to a loathsome swine, So I may live forever inthy sight. Into heaven’s joys can noneprofoundly see, Except that first they meditateon thee.

When our author wishes to be changed into a loathsomeswine, so he might dwell in sight of his mistress,he should have considered, that however agreeablethe metamorphosis might be to him, it could not beso to her, to look upon such a loathsome object.

[Footnote 1: Langbaine’s Lives of the Poets.]

[Footnote 2: There is a coarseness of dialogue,even in their genteelest characters, in comedy, thatappears now almost unpardonable; one is almost inclinedto think the language and manners of those times werenot over-polite, this fault appears so frequent; noris the great Shakespear entirely to be acquitted hereof.]

[Footnote 3: May not this be owing to envy? arenot most wits jealous of their cotemporaries? howreadily do we pay adoration to the dead? how slowlydo we give even faint praise to the living? is it awonder Beaumont and Fletcher were more praised andversified than Shakespear? were not inferior witsopposed, nay preferred, to Dryden while living? wasnot this the case of Addison and Pope, whose works(those authors being no more) will be read with admiration,and allowed the just pre-eminence, while the Englishtongue is understood.]

[Footnote 4: Preface to Fletcher’s plays.]

* * * * *

Sir JOHN DAVIES

Was born at Chisgrove, in the parish of Tysbury inWiltshire, being the son of a wealthy tanner of thatplace. At fifteen years of age he became a Commonerin Queen’s-college, Oxford 1585, where havingmade great progress in academical learning, and takenthe degree of Batchelor of arts, he removed to theMiddle-Temple, and applying himself to the study ofthe common law, was called to the bar; but havinga quarrel with one Richard Martyn, (afterwards recorderof London) he bastinadoed him in the Temple-hall atdinner-time, in presence of the whole assembly, forwhich contempt, he was immediately expelled, and retiredagain to Oxford to prosecute his studies, but didnot resume the scholar’s-gown. Upon thisoccasion he composed that excellent poem called NosceTeipsum[1]. Afterwards by the favour of Thomaslord Ellesmere, keeper of the Great Seal, being reinstatedin the Temple, he practised as a counsellor, and becamea burgess in the Parliament held at Westminster 1601.Upon the death of Queen Elizabeth our author, withLord Hunsdon, went into Scotland to congratulate KingJames on his succession to the English throne.Being introduced into his Majesty’s presence,the King enquired of Lord Hunsdon, the names of thegentlemen who accompanied him, and when his lordshipmentioned John Davies, the King presently asked whetherhe was Nosce Teipsum, and being answered he was, embracedhim, and assured him of his favour. He was accordinglymade Sollicitor, and a little after Attorney-generalin Ireland, where in the year 1606, he was made oneof his Majesty’s serjeants at law, and Speakerof the House of Commons for that kingdom. Inthe year following, he received the honour of knighthoodfrom the King at Whitehall. In 1612 he quittedthe post of Attorney-general in Ireland, and was madeone of his Majesty’s English serjeants at law.He married Eleanor Touchet, youngest daughter of Georgelord Audley, by whom he had a son, an idiot who diedyoung, and a daughter named Lucy, married to Ferdinandlord Hastings, and afterwards Earl of Huntingdon.His lady was a woman of very extraordinary character;she had, or rather pretended to have a spirit of prophecy,and her predictions received from a voice which sheoften heard, were generally wrapped up in dark and

obscure expressions. It was commonly reported,that on the sunday before her husband’s death,she was sitting at dinner with him, she suddenly burstinto tears, whereupon he asking her the occasion,she answered, “Husband, these are your funeraltears,” to which he replied, “Pray thereforespare your tears now, and I will be content that youshall laugh when I am dead.” After SirJohn’s death she lived privately at Parstonin Hertfordshire, and an account was published of herstrange and wonderful prophecies in 1609. In1626 Sir John was appointed lord chief justice ofthe King’s-bench, but before the ceremony ofhis installation could be performed he died suddenlyof an apoplexy in the fifty-seventh year of his age,and was buried in the church of St. Martin’sin the Fields. He enjoyed the joint applausesof Camden, Ben Johnson, Sir John Harrington, Selden,Donne, and Corbet; these are great authorities inour author’s favour, and I may fairly assertthat no philosophical writers ever explained theirideas more clearly and familiarly in prose, or moreharmoniously and beautifully in verse. Thereis a peculiar happiness in his similies being introducedmore to illustrate than adorn, which renders themas useful as entertaining, and distinguishes themfrom any other author.

In quality of a lawyer Sir John produced the followingpieces:

1. A discovery of the true causes why Irelandwas never entirely subdued until his Majesty’shappy reign; printed in 4to. London 1612, dedicatedto the King with this Latin verse only.

Principis est virtus maxima nosse suos.

2. A declaration of our sovereign lord the King,concerning the title of his Majesty’s son Charles,the prince and duke of Cornwall; London 1614.

His principal performance as a poet, is a Poem onthe Original, Nature, and Immortality of the Soul,dedicated to Queen Elizabeth. It was republishedby Nahum Tate, 1714, addressed to the Earl of Dorsetand Middlesex, who was a great admirer of our poet,and the editor gives it a very just and advantageouscharacter. Without doubt it is the Nosce Teipsumso much admired by King James, printed 1519, and 1622,mentioned by Wood; to which were added by the samehand:

Hymns of Astrea in acrostic verse; and Orchestra,or a poem expressing the antiquity and excellencyof dancing, in a dialogue between Penelope and oneof her Woers, containing 131 stanzas unfinished.Mr. Wood mentions also epigrams, and a translationof several of King David’s Psalms, written bySir John Davies, but never published.

Nosce Teipsum.

Why did my parents send me to the schools,
That I, with knowledge might enrich mymind,
Since the desire to know first made menfools
And did corrupt the root of all mankind.

For when God’s hand, had writtenin the hearts,
Of our first parents all the rules ofgood,
So that their skill infus’d, surpass’dall arts,
That ever were before or since the flood.

And when their reason’s eye wassharp and clear,
And (as an eagle can behold the sun)
Cou’d have approach’d th’eternal light as near,
As th’ intellectual Angels couldhave done.

Even then, to them the spirit of lyessuggests,
That they were blind because they sawnot ill;
And breath’d into their incorruptedbreasts
A curious wish, which did corrupt theirwill.

[Footnote 1: Muses library p. 332.]

* * * * *

THOMAS GOFF.

A Gentleman who flourished in the reign of King JamesI. He was born in Essex, towards the latter end ofQueen Elizabeth’s reign, about the year 1592.In his youth he was sent to Westminster-school, andat the age of eighteen, he was entered student ofChrist’s-college in Oxford[1]. Being anindustrious scholar, says Langbaine, he arrived tobe a good poet, a skilful orator, and an excellentpreacher. In the year 1623 he was made batchelorof divinity, and preferred to a living in Surry calledEast-Clanden: there he married a wife who provedas great a plague to him as a shrew could be; shewas a true Xantippe to our ecclesiastical Socrates,and gave him daily opportunities of puting his patienceto the proof; and it is believed by some, that thisdomestic scourge shortened his days. He was buriedat his own parish church at Clanden, the 27th of July,1627. He writ several pieces on different subjects,amongst which are reckoned five plays. CarelessShepherdess, a Tragi-comedy, acted before the Kingand Queen at Salisbury court with great applause.Printed in 4to,1656, with an Alphabetical Catalogueof all such plays as ever were to that time published.2. Courageous Turk, or Amurath I. a Tragedy, actedby the students of Christ-church in Oxford, printedin 8vo, London 1656. For the plot consult Knolles’sHistory of the Turks. 3. Orcites, a Tragedy,acted by the students of Christ’s-church in Oxford,printed in 8vo, London 1656. 4. Raging Turk,or Bajazet ii. a tragedy acted by the studentsin Christ’s-church in Oxford, printed in 8vo.London 1656. This play was written with the twoforegoing tragedies, when the author was master ofarts, and student of Christ’s-church, but notprinted till after his decease. 5. Selinus, Emperorof the Turks, a Tragedy, printed in 4to, London 1638.This play in all probability was never exhibited,because it is not divided into acts. The authorcalls this the first part; and in his conclusion, ashe stiles it, or epilogue, he promises a second part,saying,

If this first part, gentles, do like youwell;
The second part shall greater murderstell.

The plot is founded on the Turkish history in thereign of Selinus I. Mr. Philips and Mr. Winstanleyhave ascribed a comedy to this author, called Cupid’sWhirligig, tho’ Democritus and Heracl*tus werenot more different in their temper, than his geniuswas opposite to comedy, besides the true author wasone Mr. E. S. who in his dedicatory epistle says,

“That being long pregnant with desireto bring forth something, and being afterwards broughtto bed, had chose his friend Mr. Robert Hayman tobe godfather, not doubting but his child would bewell maintained, feeing he could not live abovean hour with him; and therefore he entreated himwhen he was dead, that he might be buried deep enoughin his good opinion, and that he might deserve thisepitaph;

Here lies the child that was born in mirth,
Against the strict rules of child-birth;
And to be quit, I gave him to my friend,
Who laught him to death, and that washis end.”

The reason of my making this digression, is to shew,that such ridiculous unmeaning mirth, is not likelyto have fallen from Mr. Goff, as he was a grave man,and nothing but what was manly droped from his pen.In the latter part of his life he forsook the stagefor the pulpit, and instead of plays writ sermons,some of which appeared in print in the year 1627.To these works may be added his Latin funeral oration,at the divinity school, at the obsequies of Sir HenrySaville, printed in 4to, Oxon 1622; another in Christ’s-churchcathedral, at the funeral of Dr. Goodwin, canon ofthat church, printed in London 1627.

[Footnote 1: Langbaine’s Lives of the Poets,223.]

* * * * *

Sir Fulk Greville, Lord Brooke,

Sprung from an honourable family in Warwickshire;he was educated both at Oxford and Cambridge, andintroduced to court by an uncle in the service ofQueen Elisabeth, who received him into her favour,which he had the happiness to preserve uninteruptedto her death. At the coronation of James I, hewas created Knight of the Bath, and soon after obtaineda grant of the ruinous castle of Warwick. He wasnext appointed sub-treasurer, chancellor of the Exchequer,and privy counsellor, and then advanced to the degreeof a baron, by the title of lord Brooke of Beauchamps-court,and one of the lords of the bed-chamber to his Majesty.This noble author was the friend of Sir Philip Sidney,than which a greater compliment cannot be bestowed.As he was a poet and a man of wit he was held in thehighest esteem in that courtly age; but he added togenius, a gallantry of spirit, and was as fine a soldieras a writer. Winstanley gives an instance of hisprowess in arms.

“At the time (says he) when theFrench ambassador came over to England to negotiatea marriage between the duke of Anjou, and QueenElizabeth, for the better entertainment of the court,solemn justs were proclaimed, where the Earl ofArundel, Frederick lord Windsor, Sir Philip Sidney,and he, were chief challengers against all comers;in which challenge he behaved himself so gallantly,that he won the reputation of a most valiant knight.Thus you see that tho’ case be the nurse ofpoetry, the Muses are also companions to Mars, asmay be exemplified in the characters of the Earlof Surry, Sir Philip Sidney, and Sir Fulk Greville.”

As our Author loved and admired the ladies, it issomewhat extraordinary, that he died a batchelor;for in all that courtly age, he could not find oneon whom to confer the valuable prize of his heart.As he was himself a learned man, and possessed a varietyof knowledge, so he patronized many necessitous candidatesfor fame, but particularly Camden, whom he causedby his interest to be made King at Arms. He waslikewise very liberal to Mr. Speed the celebratedchronologer: finding him a man of extensive knowledge,and his occupation and circ*mstances mean, so thathis genius was depressed by poverty, he enabled himto prosecute his studies, and pursue the bent of hisgenius without being obliged to drudge at a manualemployment for his bread. Speed in his descriptionof Warwickshire writes thus of lord Brook, “Whosemerit (says he) towards me I do acknowledge, in settingmy hand free from the daily employments of a manualtrade, and giving it full liberty thus to expressthe inclination of mind, himself being the procurerof my present estate.” He passed thro’life in a calm of prosperity and honour, beloved byhis equals, reverenced by his inferiors, and a favouriteat court; but when he was about seventy years of age,this life of undisturbed tranquility, was sacrificedto the resentment of a villain, and a catastrophe ofthe most tragical kind closed the days of this worthyman.

One Haywood, who had been many years in his service,and had behaved with fidelity and honour, expostulatedwith him freely (while they were alone) for his nothaving received a due reward for his services.His lordship enraged at his presumption, and givingway to his passion, reprimanded him very severelyfor his insolence; for which the villain being nowwrought up to the highest degree of fury, took anopportunity to stab him with his dagger through theback into the vitals, of which wound he instantlydied, September 30, 1628.

The murderer then struck with remorse, horror anddespair, and all the natural attendants of his guilt,retired to his chamber, and having secured the door,fell upon the same weapon with which he had assassinatedhis master, and anticipated on himself the justicereserved for the hand of an executioner. LordBrooke was interred in Warwickshire, under a monumentof black and white marble[1], whereon he is stiled,Servant to Queen Elizabeth, Counsellor to King James,and friend to Sir Philip Sidney.

His works are chiefly these, viz.

Alaham, a Tragedy; printed in folio 1633. Thisplay (says Langbaine) seems an imitation of the ancients;the Prologue is spoken by a ghost. This spectregives an account of each character, which is perhapsdone after the manner of Euripides, who introducedone of the chief actors as the Prologue, whose businessit was to explain all those circ*mstances which precededthe opening the stage. He has not in one scenethroughout introduced above two speakers, in compliancewith Horace’s rule in his Art of Poetry;

nec quarta loqui persona laboret.

Mr. Langbaine professes himself ignorant from whencethe plot is taken, neither can he find the name ofany such Prince as Alaham, that reigned in Ormus,where the scene lyes, an island situated at the entranceof the Persian Gulph, which is mentioned by Mr. Herbert[2]in his account of Ormus.

Mustapha, a Tragedy, printed in folio 1633. Thisplay likewise seems to be built on the model of theancients, and the plot is the same with that of lordOrrery’s tragedy of the same title, and takenfrom Paulus Jovius, Thuanus, &c. Both these playsare printed together in folio, London, 1633, withseveral other poems, as a Treatise on Human Learning;An Inquisition upon Fame and Honour; A Treatise ofWars. All these are written in a stanza of sixlines, four interwoven, and a couplet in base, whichthe Italians call Sestine Coelica, containing onehundred and nine sonnets of different measures.There are in this volume two letters; the one to anhonourable Lady, containing directions how to behavein a married state; the other addressed to his cousinGrevil Varney, then in France, containing Directionsfor Travelling. His lordship has other piecesascribed to him besides those published under hisname, The Life of Sir Philip Sidney, printed at thebeginning of the Arcadia. His Remains, or Poemsof Monarchy and Religion, printed in 8vo. London1670. Philips and Winstanley ascribe a play tohim, called Marcus Tullius Cicero, but this is withoutfoundation, for that play was not written, at leastnot printed, ’till long after his lordship’sdeath. Having now given some account of his works,I shall sum up his character in the words of Mrs. Cooper,in her Muses Library, as it is not easy to do it tobetter advantage.

“I don’t know (says she) whethera woman may be acquitted for endeavouring to sumup a character so various and important as his lordship’s;but if the attempt can be excused, I don’tdesire to have it pass for a decisive sentence.Perhaps few men that dealt in poetry had morelearning, or real wisdom than this nobleman, andyet his stile is sometimes so dark and mysterious,that one would imagine he chose rather to conceal,than illustrate his meaning. At other timeshis wit breaks out again with an uncommon brightness,and shines, I’d almost said, without an equal.It is the same thing with his poetry, sometimesso harsh and uncouth as if he had no ear for music,at others, so smooth and harmonious as if he wasmaster of all its powers.”

The piece from which I shall quote some lines, isentitled,

A treatise of human learning.

The mind of man is this world’strue dimension;
And knowledge is the measure of the minde:
And as the minde in her vast comprehension,
Contains more worlds than all the worldcan finde.
So knowledge doth itself farre more extend,
Than all the minds of men can comprehend.

A climbing height it is without a head,
Depth without bottome, way without anend,
A circle with no line invironed,
Not comprehended, all it comprehends;
Worth infinite, yet satisfies no minde,
’Till it that Infinite of the God-headfinde.

[Footnote 1: Fuller’s Worthies of Warwickshire,p. 127.]

[Footnote 2: Travels, third Edition, p. 114.]

* * * * *

JOHN DAY.

This author lived in the reign of King James I. andwas some time student in Caius College in Cambridge.No particulars are preserved concerning this poet,but that he had connection with other poets of somename, and wrote the following plays:

1. Blind Beggar of Bethnal Green, with the MerryHumour of Tom Stroud, the Norfolk Yeoman, severaltimes publicly acted by the Prince’s Servants;printed in 4to. London, 1659; for the plot, asfar as it concerns history, consult the writers inthe reign of King Henry VI.

2. Humour out of Breath, a Comedy, said to havebeen writ by our author, but some have doubted hisbeing the real author of it.

3. Isle of Gulls, a Comedy, often acted in theBlack Fryars, by the children of the Revels, printedin 4to. London, 1633. This is founded uponSir Philip Sidney’s Arcadia.

4. Law Tricks, or Who Would Have Thought It?a Comedy, several times acted by the children of theRevels, and printed in 4to. 1608.

5. Parliament of Bees, with their proper characters,or a Bee-Hive furnished with Twelve Honey-Combs, aspleasant as profitable, being an allegorical descriptionof the ancients of good and bad men in those days,printed in 4to. London, 1641.

6. Travels of Three English Brothers, Sir Thomas,Sir Anthony, and Mr. Robert Shirley, a History, playedby her Majesty’s Servants, printed in 4to.London, 1607, and dedicated to Honour’s Favouritesand the entire friends of the family of the Shirleys.In the composition of this play our author was assistedby William Rowley, and Mr. George Wilkins; the foundationof it may be read in several English Writers, andChronicles, and it is particularly set down in Dr.Fuller’s Worthies, in his description of Sussex.When our author died cannot be justly ascertained,but Mr. Langbaine has preserved an elegy written onhim, by his friend Mr. Tateham, which begins thus:

Don Phoebus now hath lost his light,
And left his rule unto the night;
And Cynthia, she has overcome
The Day, and darkened the sun:
Whereby we now have lost our hope,
Of gaining Day, into horoscope, &c.

In this manner he runs on: like a gentleman inLincolns Inn, who wrote an ingenious poem upon thetransactions between a Landlord and his Tenant Day,who privately departed from him by Night, printed ina single sheet, London, 1684. To shew the parallel,the following lines are sufficient.

How Night and Day conspire a secret flight;
For Day, they say, is gone away by Night.
The Day is past, but landlord where’syour rent?
You might have seen, that Day was almostspent.
Day sold, and did put off whate’erhe might,
Tho’ it was ne’er so dark,Day wou’d be light.

* * * * *

Sir WALTER RALEIGH

Was descended of an ancient family in Devonshire,which was seated in that county before the conquest[1],and was fourth son of Walter Raleigh, esquire, ofFards, in the parish of Cornwood. He was bornin the year 1552 at Hayes, a pleasant farm of hisfather’s in the parish of Budley, in that partof Devonshire bordering Eastward upon the Sea, nearwhere the Ottery discharges itself into the BritishChannel; he was educated at the university of Oxford,where, according to Dr. Fuller, he became a commonerof Oriel College, as well as Christ Church, and displayedin his early years a great vivacity of genius in hisapplication to his studies. Some have said, thatafter leaving the university, he settled himself inthe Middle-Temple, and studied the law, but this opinionmust be erroneous, since he declares afterwards onhis trial, that he never read a word of law ’tillhe was prisoner in the Tower. In 1569, when hewas not above 17 years of age, he was one of the selecttroop of a hundred gentlemen voluntiers, whom QueenElizabeth permitted Henry Champernon to transport intoFrance, for the assistance of protestant Princes there[2],but of what service they were, or what was the consequenceof the expedition, we have no account. So greata scene of action as the whole kingdom of France wasat that period, gave Raleigh an opportunity of acquiringexperience, and reading characters, as well as improvinghimself in the knowledge of languages and manners,and his own History of the World contains some remarkswhich he then made of the conduct of some great generalsthere, of which he had himself been witness. Afterour author’s return from France, he embarkedin an expedition to the northern parts of America,with Sir Humphry Gilbert, his brother by the mother’sside, that gentleman having obtained the Queen’sPatent to plant and inhabit such parts of it as wereunpossessed by any Prince with whom she was in alliance;but this attempt proved unsuccessful by means of thedivision which arose amongst the Voluntiers. Thenext year, 1580, upon the descent of the Spanish andItalian forces in Ireland under the Pope’s banner,for the support of the Desmonds in their rebellionin Munster, he had a captain’s commission underthe lord Grey of Wilton, to whom at that time thefamous Spenser was secretary; but the chief serviceswhich, captain Raleigh performed, were under Thomasearl of Ormond, governor of Munster. He surprizedthe Irish Kerns at Ramile, and having inclosed them,took every rebel upon the spot, who did not fall in

the conflict. Among the prisoners there was oneladen with Withies, who being asked, what he intendedto have done with them? boldly answered, to have hungup the English Charles; upon which Raleigh orderedhim to be immediately dispatched in that manner, andthe rest of the robbers and murderers to be punishedaccording to their deserts[3]. The earl of Ormonddeparting for England in the spring of the year 1581,his government of Munster was given to captain Raleigh;in which he behaved with great vigilance and honour,he fought the Arch rebel Barry at Clove, whom he chargedwith the utmost bravery, and after a hard struggle,put to flight. In the month of August, 1581,captain John Gouch being appointed Governour of Munsterby the Lord Deputy, Raleigh attended him in severaljournies to settle and compose that country; but thechief place of their residence was Cork, and afterGouch had cut off Sir John Desmond, brother to theearl of Desmond, who was at the head of the rebellion,he left the government of that city to Raleigh[4],whose company being not long after disbanded uponthe reduction of that earl, the slaughter of his brother,and the submission of Barry, he returned to England.The Lord Deputy Grey having resigned the sword in Irelandtowards the end of August, 1582, the dispute betweenhim and Raleigh, upon reasons which are variouslyassigned by different writers, was brought to a hearingbefore the council table in England, where the lattersupported his cause with such abilities as procuredhim the good opinion both of her Majesty, and theLords of the Council, and this, added to the patronageof the earl of Leicester, is supposed to be one considerableoccasion of his preferment, though it did not immediatelytake place, nor could the hopes of it restrain himfrom a second expedition with his brother Sir HumphryGilbert to Newfoundland, for which he built a shipof 200 tons called The Bark Raleigh, and furnishedit compleatly for the voyage, in which he resolvedto attend his brother as his Vice-Admiral. Thatfleet departed from Plymouth the 11th of June, 1583,but after it had been two or three days at sea, acontagious distemper having seized the whole crewof Raleigh’s ship, obliged him to return to thatport; however by this accident, he escaped the misfortuneof that expedition; for after Sir Humphry had takenpossession of Newfoundland, in the right of the crownof England, and assigned lands to every man of hiscompany, and failed three hundred leagues in the voyagehome with full hopes of the Queen’s assistanceto fit out a fleet next year, he unfortunately perished;for venturing rashly in a frigate of but ten tons,he was on the ninth of September that year at midnightswallowed up in an high sea, another vessel sufferedthe same fate, and even the rest returned not withoutgreat hazard and loss[5]: but this ill successcould not divert Raleigh from pursuing a scheme ofsuch importance to his country as those discoveriesin North America. He drew up an account of theadvantage of such a design, and the means of prosecutingit, which he laid before the Queen and Council, whowere so well satisfied with the probability of success,that on the 25th of March, 1584, her Majesty grantedhim letters patent, in favour of his project, containingfree liberty to discover such remote heathen and barbarouslands, as were not actually possessed by any Christianprince, nor inhabited by Christian people. Immediatelyupon this grant, Raleigh chose two able and experiencedcaptains, and furnished them with two vessels fittedout at his own expence, with such expedition thaton the 27th of April following they set sail for theWest of England, taking their course by the CanaryIslands, where they arrived on the 10th of May, towardsthe West Indies; and that being in those days thebest and most frequented rout to America, they passedby the Carribbe Islands in the beginning of June,and reached the Gulph of Florida on the 2d of July,sailing along the shore about one hundred and twentymiles before they could find a convenient harbour.At last they debarked in a very low land, which provedto be an island called Wohoken; and after taking formalpossession of the country, they carried on a friendlycorrespondence with the native Indians, who suppliedthem with a great variety of fish and venison, andgave them furs, and deerskins in exchange for trifles.Thus encouraged by the natives, eight of the companyin a boat, went up the river Occam twenty miles, andnext day in the evening they came to an island calledRoanah, which was but seven leagues from the placewhere their ships lay. Here they found the residenceof the Indian chief, whose name was Grangamineo, whosehouse consisted of nine apartments built of Cedar,fortified round with sharp pieces of timber:His wife came out to them, and ordered the peopleto carry them from the boat on their backs, and shewedthem many other civilities. They continued theirintercourse with the natives for some time, stillviewing the situation of the adjacent country, andafter having obtained the best information they couldof the number and strength of the Indian nations inthat neighbourhood, and of their connexions, alliances,or contests with each other, they returned about themiddle of September to England, and made such an advantageousreport of the fertility of the soil, and healthinessof the climate, that the Queen favoured the designof settling a colony in that country, to which shewas pleased to give the name of Virginia[6].

About two months after, Raleigh was chosen Knightof the Shire for his county of Devon, and made a considerablefigure in parliament, where a bill passed in confirmationof his patent for the discovery of foreign countries.During the course of this sessions, he received thehonour of knighthood from her Majesty, a distinctionthe more honourable to him, as the Queen was extreamlycautious in confering titles; and besides the patentfor discoveries, she granted him, about the same time,a power to license the vending of wines throughoutthe kingdom, which was in all probability very lucrativeto him; but it engaged him in a dispute with the universityof Cambridge, which had opposed one Keymer, whom hehad licensed to sell wine there, contrary to the privilegesof that university.

The parliament being prorogued, Raleigh, intent uponplanting his new colony in Virginia, set out his ownfleet of seven sail for that country, under the commandof his cousin Sir Richard Greenville, who after havingvisited the country, left behind him an hundred andseven persons to settle a colony at Roanah; in hisreturn to England, he took a Spanish prize worth 50000l. but this was not the only circ*mstance of goodfortune which happened to Raleigh this year; for therebellion in Ireland being now suppressed, and theforfeited lands divided into Signiories, among thoseprincipally who had been instrumental in the importantservice of reducing that country; her Majesty grantedhim one of the largest portions, consisting of twelvethousand acres in the counties of Cork and Waterford,with certain privileges and immunities, upon condition,of planting and improving the same, to which the othergrantees were obliged.

In the year 1586 we find our author so highly advancedin the Queen’s favour, so extremely popularon account of his patronage of learned men, ard theactive spirit he exerted in business, that her Majestymade him seneschal in the dutchy of Cornwall.But these distinctions incurred the usual effectsof court preferment, and exposed Sir Walter to theenvy of those who were much inferior to him in merit;and even the earl of Leicester himself, who had formerlybeen his great patron, became jealous of him, andset up in opposition to him, his nephew the youngearl of Essex. The Comedians likewise took theliberty to reflect upon Raleigh’s power, andinfluence upon the Queen; which her Majesty resentedso highly as to forbid Tarleton, the most celebratedactor of that age, from approaching her presence.

Raleigh, sollicitous for the prosperity of the plantationin Virginia, sent out new supplies from time to time,some of whom were obliged to return home; and thegeneral alarm spread over the nation on account ofthe Spanish invasion, threw all things into disorder.

About the beginning of the year 1587 he was raisedto the dignity of captain of her majesty’s guard,which he held together with the place of lord-wardenof the Stannaries, and lieutenant-general of the countyof Cornwall. From this time till the year 1594,we find Sir Walter continually engaged in projectingnew expeditions, sending succours to colonies abroad,or managing affairs in Parliament with consummateaddress.

In the year 1593, we find Father Parsons the jesuitcharging him with no less a crime than atheism, andthat he had founded a school in which he taught atheisticalprinciples, and had made a great many young gentlemenconverts to them; the most considerable authorityto countenance the suspicions of Sir Walter’sreligion, is that of Archbishop Abbot, who in a letterdated at Lambeth, addressed to Sir Thomas Roe, thenan ambassador at the Mogul’s court, expresslycharges Sir Walter with doubting God’s beingand omnipotence[7]; but it is highly probable SirWalter’s opinions might be misrepresented byhis enemies, or wrong conclusions drawn from thosewhich he maintained; and it would be a shocking injusticeto the memory of so great a man to suspect him ofirreligion, whose writings contain not the least traceof it, and whose History of the World in particularbreathes a strong spirit of real and genuine piety.

In the heighth of his favour with the Queen, he fellunder her majesty’s displeasure, for being enamouredof Mrs. Elizabeth Throgmorton, one of the Queen’smaids of honour, whom he debauched; and such it seemswas the chastity of these times, that a frailty ofthat sort was looked upon as the highest offence HerMajesty was so exasperated, that she commanded himto be confined several months, and after his enlargementforbid him the court, whence the poor lady was likewisedismissed from her attendance about the maiden queen,who appeared in this case the champion of virginity.Sir Walter soon made her an honourable reparationby marriage, and they were both examples of conjugalaffection and fidelity. During the time our authorcontinued under her majesty’s displeasure forthis offence, he projected the discovery of the richand extensive empire of Guiana, in the south of America,which the Spaniards had then visited, and to thatday had never conquered. For this purpose, havingcollected informations relating to it, he sent anold officer to take a view of the coast, who returnedthe year following with a very favourable accountof the riches of the country, which he had receivedfrom some of the principal Cassiques upon the bordersof it. This determined Raleigh’s resolution,who provided a squadron of ships at a very great expence,and the lord high admiral Howard, and Sir Robert Cecilconceived so good an opinion of the design, that bothconcurred in it. He personally engaged in theattempt, and with no great number of ships so farexplored the unknown country, that he made greaterprogress in a few months than the Spaniards had donefor many years, and having satisfied himself of thecertainty of the gold mines of the country, he returnedhome with honour and riches the latter end of thesummer 1595, and in the year following published inquarto An Account of the Voyage and Discoveries, dedicatedto lord admiral Howard and Sir Robert Cecil.

The next year Sir Walter was so far restored to theQueen’s favour, that he was engaged in the importantand successful expedition to Cadiz, in which the earlof Essex and lord admiral Howard were joint commanders,and Raleigh of the council of war, and one of theadmirals. In this, as in all his other expeditions,he behaved with equal conduct and courage. Afterhis return from the successful expedition under theearl of Essex, he promoted a reconciliation betweenthat nobleman and secretary Cecil, in consequence ofwhich he was himself fully reinstated in the Queen’sfavour, and had the command of captain of the guardrestored to him with other marks of her forgiveness.

In 1597 he was employed in the island voyage as rearadmiral, the earl of Essex having the chief command,and the lord Thomas Howard the post of vice-admiral.The design of it was to defeat and destroy at Ferol,as well as in the other ports of the enemy, the Spanishfleet intended for a new expedition against Englandand Ireland; and to seize upon such Indian fleetsof treasure, as they should meet with belonging tothe king of Spain, to conquer, restrain, and garrison,most of the Isles of the Azores, and especially theTerceras. But the success of this expeditiondid not answer the greatness of the preparations forit; the jealousy of the earl of Essex the commander,obstructing the services which Sir Walter’sabilities might otherwise have performed. Inthe council of war, which was held before the isleof Flores, it was resolved that the general and SirWalter should jointly attack the island of Fyal; wherethe latter waited seven days for his lordship, andhearing nothing of him, called a council of war, inwhich it was determined that Raleigh should attemptthe town himself, which he did with astonishing braveryand success. Essex finding himself deprived ofthe honour of taking Fyal, was exasperated to sucha degree, that he broke some of the officers who hadbehaved with great gallantry under Raleigh, and someof his sycophants alledged that Raleigh himself deservedto lose his head for breach of articles in landingwithout his lordships orders. Upon their returnto England the earl endeavoured to transfer the miscarriagesof the expedition upon Raleigh, and gained to hisside the populace, whom Sir Walter never courted,and whose patronage he scorned; but the Queen herselfwas not well pleased with the earl’s conduct,since it was judged he might have done more than hedid; and his proceedings against Sir Walter in callinghis actions to public question, were highly disapproved[8].

The next important transaction we find Raleigh engagedin, was in 1601, when the unfortunate earl of Essex,who had calumniated him to the king of Scotland, andendeavoured all he could to shake his interest, wasso ill advised by his creatures, as to attempt a publicinsurrection. Raleigh was active in suppressingit: the earl pretended that the cause of histaking arms was to defend himself against the violenceof his personal enemies, the lord Cobham and Raleighhaving formed a design of murdering him; tho’on the other hand it is pretty certain, that Sir FerdinandGorges, one of the earl’s accomplices, afterwardsaccused Sir Christopher Blount, another of them, forpersuading him to kill, or at least apprehend, SirWalter; which Gorges refusing, Blount discharged fourshots after him in a boat. Blount acknowledgedthis, and at the time of his execution asked Sir Walterforgiveness for it; which he readily granted.——­Whilethe earl garisoned his house, Sir Walter was one ofthose who invested it, and when his lordship was broughtto his trial, he with forty of the queen’s guard

was present upon duty, and was likewise examined withrelation to a conference which he had upon the Thamesthe morning of the insurrection with Sir FerdinandoGorges. At the execution of Essex, six days after,in the Tower, Raleigh attended, probably in his characterof captain of the guard, and stood near the scaffoldthat he might the better answer if Essex should bedesirous of speaking to him, but retired before theearl’s execution, because the people seemedto take his appearance there in a wrong light; tho’he afterwards repented of it, as the earl expressedan inclination to see and speak with him before hisdeath, which was in all probability to have askedRaleigh’s forgiveness for having traduced, andcalumniated him in order to colour his own rash designs.

In 1602 our author sold his estate in Ireland, toMr. Boyle, afterwards earl of Cork, and about Midsummerhe settled his estate of Sherbone on his son Walter,on account of a challenge which he had received fromSir Amias Preston, who had been knighted at Cadiz bythe earl of Essex; which challenge Sir Walter intendedto accept, and therefore disposed his affairs in properorder. The cause of their quarrel does not appear,but they were afterwards reconciled without proceedingto a duel[9].

The death of Queen Elizabeth on the 24th of March1602-3 proved a great misfortune to Raleigh; Jamesher successor having been prejudiced against him bythe earl of Essex, who insinuated that Raleigh wasno friend to his succession, nor had any regard forhis family. And these prejudices were heightenedby secretary Cecil in his private correspondence withthat pusilanimous, jealous prince, before he ascendedthe Throne of England, or at least immediately uponthat event; for tho’ Raleigh and Cecil had unitedagainst Essex, yet after the ruin of that earl andhis party, their seeming friendship terminated ina mutual struggle for a superiority of power.But there is another important cause of James’sdisgust to Sir Walter, which is, that he, lord Cobham,and Sir John Fortescue, would have obliged the kingto articles before he was admitted to the throne, andthat the number of his countrymen should be limitted;which added to the circ*mstance of Sir Walter’szeal to take off his mother, inspired his majestywith a confirmed aversion to him; and indeed the tragicalend of the queen of Scots is, perhaps, the greatesterror with which the annals of that glorious reignis stained. Raleigh in vain endeavoured to gainthe affection of the new king, which he attempted bytransfering on secretary Cecil the blood of the earlof Essex, as well as that of his royal mother; butthis attempt to secure the affections of a weak prince,ended in his ruin, for it exasperated Cecil the moreagainst him; and as Sir Walter was of an active martialgenius, the king, who was a lover of peace, and anatural coward, was afraid that so military a manwould involve him in a war, which he hated above allthings in the world. Our author was soon removedfrom his command as captain of the guard, which wasbestowed upon Sir Thomas Erskin, his majesty’sfavourite as well as countryman[10], the predecessorto the earl of Mar, whose actions, performed in theyear 1715, are recent in every one’s memory.

Not long after his majesty’s ascending the throneof England, Sir Walter was charged with a plot againstthe king and royal family; but no clear evidence wasever produced that Raleigh had any concern in it.The plot was to have surprized the king and court,to have created commotions in Scotland, animated thediscontented in England, and advanced Arabella Stuart,cousin to the king, to the throne. Arabella wasthe daughter of lord Charles Stuart, younger brotherto Henry lord Darnly, and son to the duke of Lenox.She was afterwards married to William Seymour, sonto lord Beauchamp, and grandson to the earl of Hertford;and both were confined for the presumption of marryingwithout his majesty’s consent, from which theymade their escape, but were again retaken. LadyArabella died of grief, and Mr. Seymour lived to bea great favourite with Charles I. Raleigh persistedin avowing his ignorance of the plot, and when hecame to his trial, he behaved himself so prudently,and defended himself with so much force, that theminds of the people present, who were at first exasperatedagainst him, were turned from the severest hatredto the tenderest pity. Notwithstanding Sir Walter’sproof that he was innocent of any such plot, and thatlord Cobham, who had once accused him had recanted,and signed his recantation, nor was produced againsthim face to face, a pack’d jury brought himin guilty of high treason. Sentence of deathbeing pronounced against him, he humbly requested thatthe king might be made acquainted with the proofsupon which he was cast. He accompanied the Sheriffto prison with wonderful magnanimity, tho’ ina manner suited to his unhappy situation. Raleighwas kept near a month at Winchester in daily expectationof death, and in a very pathetic letter wrote hislast words to his wife the night before he expectedto suffer[11], in which he hoped his blood would quenchtheir malice who had murdered him, and prayed God toforgive his persecutors, and accusers. The kingsigned the warrant for the execution of the lordsCobham and Grey, and Sir Griffin Markham, at Winchester,pretending, says lord Cecil, to forbear Sir Walterfor the present, till lord Cobham’s death hadgiven some light how far he would make good his accusation.Markham was first brought upon the scaffold, and whenhe was on his knees, ready to receive the blow ofthe ax, the groom of the bedchamber produced to thesheriff his Majesty’s warrant to stop the execution;and Markham was told that he must withdraw a whileinto the hall to be confronted by the Lords.Then Lord Grey was brought forth, and having pouredout his prayers and confession, was likewise calledaside, and lastly Lord Cobham was exposed in the samemanner, and performed his devotions, though we donot find that he said one word of his guilt or innocence,or charged Raleigh with having instigated him; allwhich circ*mstances seem more than sufficient to wipeoff from the memory of Raleigh the least suspicionof any plot against James’s person or government.

He was remanded to the Tower of London with the restof the prisoners, of whom Markham afterwards obtainedhis liberty, and travelled abroad. Lord Greyof Wilton died in the Tower; Lord Cobham was confinedthere many years, during which, it is said, he wasexamined by the King in relation to Raleigh, and entirelycleared him; he afterwards died in the lowest circ*mstancesof distress.

In February following a grant was made by the Kingof all the goods and chattels forfeited by Sir Walter’sconviction to the trustees of his appointing for thebenefit of his creditors, lady and children.After 12 years confinement in the Tower, in March 1615he was released out of it, by the interposition ofthe favourite Buckingham; but before he quitted thatplace he saw the earl of Somerset committed therefor the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury, and afterwardscondemned, which occasioned Sir Walter to comparehis own case with that of the earl’s, and toremark, ’That the whole History of the Worldhad not the like precedent of a King’s prisonerto purchase freedom, and his bosom favourite ’tohave the halter, but in scripture, in the case ofMordecai and Haman;’ on hearing which, the Kingis said to have replied, that Raleigh might die inthat deceit, which afterwards proved true, for theKing pardoned the infamous Somerset, a murderer, andexecuted Raleigh, a brave and an honest man, equallyto the astonishment of the world. Sir Walterbeing now at large, had the means of prosecuting hisold scheme of settling Guiana, which he had so muchat heart, that even during his imprisonment, he helda constant correspondence with that country, sendingthither every year, or every second year, a ship,to keep the Indians in hopes of being relieved fromthe tyranny of the Spaniards, who had again encroachedupon them, and massacred many, both of the inhabitantsand of Raleigh’s men. In these ships werebrought several natives of the country, with whomhe conversed in the Tower, and obtained all possibleinformations concerning it. Upon such informationshe offered his scheme for prosecuting his discoveryto the court before he undertook it in person:nor were there any doubts either as to the improbabilityof the design, or its unlawfulness, notwithstandingthe peace made with Spain, otherwise the King wouldnot have made such grants, as he did, even at thattime, which shews that he was then convinced, thatSir Walter had in his first voyage discovered andtaken possession of that country for the crown of England,and consequently that his subjects were justly intitledto any benefits that might arise from its discovery,without the least respect to the pretensions of theSpaniards: Besides, when Sir Walter first movedthe court upon this subject, the Spanish match wasnot thought of, and the King’s necessities beingthen very pressing, he may be presumed to have conceivedgreat hopes from that discovery, though he might afterwardschange his opinion, when he grew so unreasonably fondof that match.

In 1616, he obtained a royal commission to settleGuiana at the expence of himself and his friends;he was appointed General, and Commander in Chief ofthis enterprize, and Governor of the new country,which he was to settle with ample authority; a powerwas granted him too, of exercising martial law insuch a manner as the King’s Lieutenant Generalby sea or land, or any Lieutenants of the countiesof England had. These powers seem to imply a virtualpardon to Raleigh, and perhaps made, him less solicitousfor an actual one. Meantime Gondemar the Spanishambassador, by his address, vivacity, and flatteringthe humours of James, had gained a great ascendencyover him, and began to make a great clamour about Raleigh’spreparations, and from that moment formed schemes ofdestroying him. The whole expence of this expeditionwas defrayed by Raleigh and his friends; the fleetconsisted of about seven sail. On the 17th ofNovember, 1617, they came in sight of Guiana, and soonafter to anchor, in five degrees off the river Caliana,where they remained till the 4th of December.Raleigh was received with great joy by the Indians,who not only assisted him with provisions, and everything else in their power, but offered him the sovereigntyof their country if he would settle amongst them,which he declined to accept.[12] His extreme sicknessfor six weeks prevented him from undertaking the discoveryof the mines in person, and was obliged to depute captainKeymis to that service; and accordingly on the 4thof December, ordered five small ships to sail intothe river Oronoque. When they landed, they founda Spanish garrison between them and the mine, whichsallying out unexpectedly, put them in confusion, andgave them battle. In this conflict young Raleighwas killed, and by a fatal mistake, captain Keymisdid not prove the mine, but burnt and plundered theSpanish garrison, and found amongst the governor’spapers one, which informed him, that Raleigh’sexpedition had been betrayed, and that he was to besacrificed to the Spaniards. Upon Keymis’sunsuccessful attempt, Raleigh sharply rebuked him forhis mistake, and a deviation from his orders, whichso much affected that captain, that he shot himselfin his own cabin, and finding the wound not mortal,he finished his design by a long knife with which hestabbed himself to the heart. In this distressfulsituation Raleigh returned home, and found on hisarrival at Plymouth, a declaration published againsthim; at which he took the alarm, and contrived toconvey himself out of the kingdom in a vessel hiredfor that purpose by an old officer of his; but changinghis opinion in that respect, he proceeded in his journeyto London.

Yet thinking it proper to gain time for the appeasinghis majesty, by the assistance of one Maneuric a Frenchquack, he counterfeited sickness for several days,during which he wrote his apology. However onthe 7th of August he arrived at London, where he wasconfined in his own house; but having still good reasonsnot to trust himself to the mercy of the court, heformed a design to escape into France, which Sir LewisStackley, who was privy to, and encouraged it, discovered,and Sir Walter being seized in a boat upon the riverbelow Woolwich, was a second time, on the 10th ofAugust, committed to the Tower; but tho’ hisdeath seemed absolutely determined, yet it seemeddifficult to find a method of accomplishing it, sincehis conduct in the late expedition could not be stretchedin law to such a sentence. It was resolved therefore,to sacrifice him to the resentment of Spain, in amanner so shameful, that it has justly exposed theconduct of the court to the indignation of all succeedingages, and transmitted the pusillanimous monarch withinfamy to posterity. They called him down tojudgment upon his former sentence passed fifteen yearsbefore, which they were not then ashamed to execute.A privy seal was sent to the judges to order immediateexecution, on which a conference was held Friday the24th of Oct. 1688, between all the judges of England,concerning the manner, how prisoners who have beenattainted of treason and set at liberty, should bebrought to execution. In consequence of theirrevolution, a privy seal came to the King’s-Bench,commanding that court to proceed against Sir Walteraccording to law, who next day received notice of thecouncil to prepare himself for death; and on Wednesdaythe 28th of that month, at 8 o’clock in themorning, was taken out of bed in the hot fit of anague, and carried to the King’s-Bench, Westminster,where execution was awarded against him. Thenext morning, the 29th of October, the day of thelord-mayor’s inauguration, a solemnity neverperhaps attended before with a public execution, SirWalter was conducted by the sheriffs of Middlesexto the Old Palace Yard in Westminster, where mountingthe scaffold, he behaved with the most undaunted spirit,and seeming cheerfulness. The bishop of Salisbury(Tohon) being surprized at the hero’s contemptof death, and expostulating with him upon it; he toldhim plainly that he never feared death, and much lessthen, for which he blessed God, and as to the mannerof it, tho’ to others it might seem grievous,yet for himself he had rather die so than in a burningfever. This verifies the noble observation ofShakespear, that all heroes have a contempt of death;which he puts in the mouth of Julius Caesar when hisfriends dissuaded him from going to the Senate-House.

Cowards die many a time before their deaths,
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders, I have heard of yet,
It seems to me most strange, that menshould fear,
Seeing that death, the necessary end,
Will come, when it will come.——­

Sir Walter eat his breakfast that morning, smoakedhis pipe, and made no more of death, than if he hadbeen to take a journey. On the scaffold he conversedfreely with the Earl of Arundel and others of thenobility, and vindicated himself from two suspicions;the first, of entering into a confederacy with France;the second, of speaking disloyally of his Majesty.He cleared himself likewise of the suspicion of havingpersecuted the Earl of Essex, or of insulting himat his death. He concluded with desiring the goodpeople to join with him in prayer, to that great Godof Heaven, “whom (says he) I have grievouslyoffended, being a man full of vanity, who has liveda sinful life, in such callings as have been mostinducing to it: For I have been a soldier, asailor, and a courtier; which are courses of wickednessand vice.” The proclamation being made thatall men should depart the scaffold, he prepared himselffor death, gave away his hat and cap, and money tosome attendants that stood near him. When hetook leave of the lords, and other gentlemen that stoodnear him, he entreated the Lord Arundel to prevailwith the King that no scandalous writings to defamehim, should be published after his death; concluding,“I have a long journey to go, and therefore willtake my leave.” Then having put off hisgown and doublet, he called to the executioner toshew him the axe, which not being presently done; hesaid, “I pray thee let me see it; don’tthou think I am afraid of it;” and having itin his hands he felt along the edge of it, and smiling,said to the sheriff; “This is a sharp medicine,but it is a physician for all diseases.”The executioner kneeling down and asking him forgiveness,Sir Walter laying his hand upon his shoulder grantedit; and being asked which way he would lay himselfon the block, he answered, “So the heart beright, it is no matter which way the head lies.”His head was struck off at two blows, his body nevershrinking nor moving. His head was shewn on eachside of the scaffold, and then put into a red leatherbag, and with his velvet night-gown thrown over, wasafterwards conveyed away in a mourning coach of hislady’s. His body was interred in the chancelof St. Margaret’s Church, Westminster, but hishead was long preserved in a case by his widow, whosurvived him twenty-years.

Thus fell Sir Walter Raleigh in the 66th year of hisage, a sacrifice to a contemptible administration,and the resentment of a mean prince: A man ofso great abilities, that neither that nor the precedingreign produced his equal. His character was acombination of almost every eminent quality; he wasthe soldier, statesmen, and scholar united, and hadhe lived with the heroes of antiquity, he would havemade a just parallel to Caesar, and Xenophon, likethem being equal master of the sword and the pen.One circ*mstance must not be omitted, which in a lifeso full of action as his, is somewhat extraordinary,viz. that whether he was on board his ships upon

important and arduous expeditions, busy in court transactions,or pursuing schemes of pleasure, he never failed todedicate at least four hours every day to study, bywhich he became so much master of all knowledge, andwas enabled, as a poet beautifully expresses it, toenrich the world with his prison-hours[13]. Asthe sentence of Raleigh blackens but his King, sohis memory will be ever dear to the lovers of learning,and of their country: and tho’ he makesnot a very great figure as a poet, having businessof greater importance continually upon his hands; yetit would have been an unpardonable negligence to omithim, as he does honour to the list, and deserves allthe encomiums an honest mind can give, or the mostmasterly pen bestow; and it were to be wished someman of eminent talents, whose genius is turned to biography,(of such at present we are not destitute) would undertakethe life of this hero, and by mixing pleasing andnatural reflexions with the incidents, as they occur,not a little instruct and delight his countrymen;as Raleigh’s life is the amplest field for suchan attempt to succeed in.

His works are,

Orders to be observed by the commanders of the fleetsand land companies, under the conduct of Sir WalterRaleigh, bound for the South parts of America, givenat Plymouth 3d May 1617.

The Dutiful Advice of a Loving Son to his Aged Father.

A Brief Relation of Sir Walter Raleigh’s Troubles;with the taking away the lands and castle of Sherburnfrom him and his heirs, which were granted to theEarl of Bristol.

Maxims of State.

The Prerogatives of Parliament.

The Cabinet Council; containing the Arts of Empiresand Mysteries of
State.

A Discourse touching a Marriage between Prince Henryof England, and a
Daughter of Savoy.

A Discourse touching a War with Spain, and of theProtesting the
Netherlands.

A Discourse of the original and Fundamental Causeof natural, arbitrary, necessary, and unnatural War.

A Discourse of the inventions of Ships, Anchors, andCompass,

Observations concerning the Royal Navy, and Sea service.To Prince
Henry.

Observations touching Trade and Commerce with theHollanders and other
Nations.

A Voyage for the Discovery of Guiana.

An Apology for the Voyage to Guiana.

A Letter to Lord Carew touching Guiana.

An Introduction to a Breviary of the History of England;with the
Reign of William the Conqueror.

The Seat of Government.

Observations on the Causes of the Magnificence andOpulence of Cities.

The Sceptic.

Instructions to his Son.

Letters.

Poems.

I shall give a specimen of Sir Walter’s poetryin a piece called the
Vision of the Fairy Queen.

Methought I sawe the grave where Lauralay;
Within that temple, where the vestal flame;
Was wont to burne: and passing bythat way,
To see that buried dust of living fame,
Whose tombe fair love, and fairer virtuekept,
All suddenly I sawe the Fairy Queene:
At whose approach the soul of Petrarchewept
And from henceforth, those Graces werenot scene;
For they this queen attended; in whosesteede
Oblivion laid him down in Laura’shearse:
Hereat the hardest stones were seen tobleed.
And grones of buried ghosts the Heavensdid perse;
Where Homer’s spright did trembleall for ’griefe,
And curst th’ accesse of that celestialthief.

But the most extraordinary work of Sir Walter’sis his History of the World, composed in the Tower;it has never been without its admirers; and I shallclose the account of our author’s works, by theobservation of the ingenious author of the Ramblerupon this history, in a paper in which he treats ofEnglish Historians, No. 122.—­“Raleigh(says he) is deservedly celebrated for the labour ofhis researches, and the elegance of his stile; buthe has endeavoured to exert his judgment more thanhis genius, to select facts, rather than adorn them.He has produced a historical dissertation, but hasseldom risen to the majesty of history.”

[Footnote 1: Prince’s Worthies of Devon.]

[Footnote 2: Camdeni Annales Elizabethae, p.172. Edit. Batav. 1625.]

[Footnote 3: Hooker, fol. 167.]

[Footnote 4: Case’s History of Ireland,fol. 367.]

[Footnote 5: Captain Haynes’s Report ofSir Humphry Gilbert’s voyage to Newfoundland,vol. iii. p. 149.]

[Footnote 6: Oldys, fol. 125.]

[Footnote 7: Birch’s life of Raleigh.]

[Footnote 8: Letter of Rowland White, Esq; toSir Robert Sidney, November 5, 1597.]

[Footnote 9: Oldys, fol. 167.]

[Footnote 10: Oldys, fol. 157.]

[Footnote 11: Raleigh’s remains, vol. ii.p. 188.]

[Footnote 12: Letter to his lady from Caliana,November 14, 1617.]

[Footnote 13: Thompson.]

* * * * *

DR. JOHN DONNE

An eminent poet, and divine of the last century, wasborn in London in the year 1573. His father wasa merchant, descended from a very ancient family inWales, and his mother from Sir Thomas More, Chancellorof England. He was educated in his father’shouse under a tutor till the 11th year of his age[1],when he was sent to Oxford; at which time it was observedof him, as of the famous Pica Mirandula, that he wasrather born wise than made so by study. He wasadmitted commoner of Harthall, together with his youngerbrother, in Michaelmas term 1584.[2] By advice ofhis relations, who were Roman Catholics, he declinedtaking the oath tendered upon the occasion of taking

degrees. After he had studied three years atthe University, he removed to Cambridge, and fromthence three years after to Lincoln’s-Inn.About this time his father died, and left him a portionof 3000L. He became soon distinguished at Lincoln’s-Inn,by his rapid progress in the law. He was noweighteen years of age, and as yet had attached himselfto no particular denomination of Christians, and ashis relations were bigotted to the Romish faith, hewas induced to examine the controversy, and to embracepublickly that which appeared to him to be best supportedby the authority of the scriptures. He relinquishedthe study of the law, and devoted himself entirelyto that of the controverted points between the Protestantsand Catholics, which ended in a thorough convictionof the truths of the reformed religion.

In the years 1596 and 1597 Mr. Donne attended theEarl of Essex in his expeditions against Cadiz andthe Azores Islands, and stayed some years in Italyand Spain, and soon after his return to England hewas made secretary to lord chancellor Egerton.This probably was intended by his lordship only asan introduction to a more dignified place; for hefrequently expressed a high opinion of his secretary’sabilities; and when he afterwards, by the sollicitationof his lady, parted with him, he observed that hewas fitter to be a secretary to a Monarch than tohim. When he was in the lord chancellor’sfamily, he married privately without the consent ofher father, the daughter of Sir George More, chancellorof the Garter, and lord lieutenant of the Tower, whoso much resented his daughter’s marriage withouthis consent, that he procured our author’s dismissionfrom the chancellor’s service, and got him committedto prison. Sir George’s daughter livedin the lord chancellor’s family, and was nieceto his lady. Upon Sir George’s hearingthat his daughter had engaged her heart to Donne,he removed her to his own house in Surry, and friendson both sides endeavoured to weaken their affectionfor each other, but without success; for having exchangedthe most sacred promises, they found means to consummatea private marriage. Our author was not long inobtaining his liberty, but was obliged to be at theexpence of a tedious law-suit to recover the possessionof his wife, who was forcibly detained from him.At length our poet’s extraordinary merit andwinning behaviour so far subdued Sir George’sresentment, that he used his interest with the Chancellorto have his son-in-law restored to his place; Butthis request was refused; his lordship observing,that he did not chuse to discharge and re-admit servantsat the request of his passionate petitioners.Sir George had been so far reconciled to his daughterand son, as not to deny his paternal blessing, butwould contribute nothing towards their support, Mr.Donne’s fortune being greatly diminished by theexpence of travels, law-suits, and the generosityof his temper; however his wants were in a great measure

prevented by the seasonable bounty of their kinsmanSir Francis Wooley, who entertained them several yearsat his house at Pilford in Surry, where our authorhad several children born to him. During hisresidence at Pilford he applied himself with greatdiligence and success to the study of the civil andcanon law, and was about this time sollicited by Dr.Morton, (afterwards lord bishop of Durham) to go intoholy Orders, and accept of a Benefice the Doctor wouldhave resigned to him; but he thought proper to refusethis obliging offer. He lived with Sir Francistill that gentleman’s death, by whose mediationa perfect reconciliation was effected between Mr.Donne and his father-in-law; who obliged himself topay our author 800L. at a certain day as his wife’sportion, or 20L. quarterly for their maintenance,till it was all paid.

He was incorporated master of arts in the universityof Oxford, having before taken the same degree atCambridge 1610.

About two years after the reconciliation with hisfather, he was prevailed upon with much difficultyto accompany Sir Robert Drury to Paris[3] Mrs. Donne,being then big with child and in a languishing stateof health, strongly opposed his departure, tellinghim, that her divining soul boaded some ill in hisabsence; bur Sir Robert’s importunity was notto be resisted, and he at last consented to go withhim. Mr. Walton gives an account of a vision Mr.Donne had seen after their arrival there, which hesays was told him by a person of honour, who had agreat intimacy with Mr. Donne; and as it has in itsomething curious enough, I shall here present it tothe reader in that author’s own words[4]

“Two days after their arrival there, Mr. Donnewas left alone in that room in which Sir Robert andhe and some other friends had dined together.To this place Sir Robert returned within half an hour;and as he left so he found Mr. Donne alone, but insuch an extasy, and so altered as to his looks, asamazed Sir Robert to behold him; insomuch that heearnestly desired Mr. Donne to declare what had befallenhim in the short time of his absence; to which hewas not able to make a present answer, but after along and perplexed pause did at last say: I haveseen a dreadful vision since I saw you; I have seenmy wife pass twice by me through this room with herhair hanging about her shoulders, and a dead childin her arms. To which Sir Robert replied, sureSir, you have slept since you saw me, and this is theresult of some melancholy dream, which I desire youto forget, for you are now awake. To which Mr.Donne’s reply was, I cannot be surer that I nowlive, than that I have not slept since I saw you; andam as sure that at her second appearing she stoptand looked me in the face and vanished.”Rest and sleep had not altered Mr. Donne’s opinionnext day, for then he confirmed his vision with sodeliberate a confidence, that he inclined Sir Robertto a faint belief that the vision was true. It

is an observation, that desire and doubt have no rest,for he immediately sent a servant to Drury-House,with a charge to hasten back and bring him word “whetherMrs. Donne was dead or alive, and if alive in whatcondition she was as to her health.” Thetwelfth day the messenger returned with this account;“that he found and left Mrs. Donne very sadand sick in her bed; and that after a long and dangerouslabour she had been delivered of a dead child, andupon examination the birth proved, to be on the sameday, and about the very hour Mr. Donne affirmed hesaw her pass by him in his chamber.”——­AfterDonne’s return from France, many of the nobilitypressed the King to confer some secular employmentupon him; but his Majesty, who considered him as betterqualified for the service of the church than the state,rejected their requests, tho’ the Earl of Somerset,then the great favourite, joined in petitioning forhis preferment. About this time the disputesconcerning the oaths of allegiance and supremacy beingagitated, Mr. Donne by his Majesty’s specialcommand, wrote a treatise on that subject, entitled,Pseudo Martyr, printed in 4to, 1610, with which hisMajesty was highly pleased, and being firmly resolvedto promote him in the church, he pressed him to enterinto holy orders, but he being resolved to qualifyhimself the better for the sacred office by studyingdivinity, and the learned languages deferred his enteringupon it three years longer, during which time he madea vigorous application to these branches of knowledge,and was then ordained both deacon and priest, by Dr.John King, then bishop of London. Presently afterhe was appointed one of the chaplains in ordinaryto his Majesty, and about the same time attendingthe King in a progress, he was created Dr. in divinity,by the university of Cambridge, by the particularrecommendation of that Prince[5] His abilities andindustry in his profession were so eminent, and himselfso well beloved, that within the first year of hisentering into holy orders, he had the offer of fourteenbenefices from persons of quality, but as they layin the country, his inclination of living in London,made him refuse them all. Upon his return fromCambridge his wife died, and his grief for her losswas so great, that for some time he betook himselfto a retired and solitary life: Mrs. Donne diedin the year 1617, on the seventh day after the birthof her twelfth child. She left our author ina narrow unsettled state with seven children then living,to her he gave a voluntary assurance, that he wouldnever bring them under the subjection of a step-mother,and this promise he faithfully kept. Soon afterthe death of his wife, he was chosen preacher of Lincoln’s-Inn,and in the year 1619 appointed by King James to attendthe earl of Doncaster, in his embassy to the Princesof Germany, and about 14 months after his return toEngland, he was advanced to the deanery of St. Paul’s.Upon the vacancy of the deanery, the King sent an orderto Dr. Donne, to attend him the next day at dinner:When his Majesty sat down, he said, “Dr. Donne,I have invited you to dinner, and though you sit notdown with me, yet I will carve to you of a dish thatI know you love well; for knowing you love London,I do therefore make you dean of St. Paul’s,and when I have dined, then do you take your beloveddish home to your study, say grace there to your self,and much good may it do you[6].” Soon after,another vicarage of St. Dunstan in the West, and anotherbenefice fell to Dr. Donne. ’Till the 59thyear of his age he continued in perfect health, whenbeing with his eldest daughter in Essex, in 1630,he was taken ill of a fever, which brought on a consumption;notwithstanding which he returned to London, and preachedin his turn at court as usual, on the first fridayin Lent. He died on the 31st day of March 1631,and was buried in the cathedral church of St. Paul’s,where a monument was erected over him. Waltonsays that amongst other preparations for death, hemade use of this very remarkable one. He orderedan urn to be cut in wood, on which was to be placeda board of the exact heighth of his body: thisbeing done, he caused himself to be tied up in a windingsheet in the same manner that dead bodies are.Being thus shrouded, and standing with his eyes shut,and with just so much of the sheet put aside, as mightdiscover his thin, pale, and death-like face, he causeda skilful painter to draw his picture. This piecebeing finished, was placed near his bed-side, andthere remained as his constant remembrance to thehour of his death.

His character as a preacher and a poet are sufficientlyseen in his incomparable writings. His personalqualifications were as eminent as those of his mind;he was by nature exceeding passionate, but was aptto be sorry for the excesses of it, and like most otherpassionate men, was humane and benevolent. Hismonument was composed of white marble, and carvedfrom the picture just now mentioned of him, by orderof his executor Dr. King, bishop of Chichester, whowrote the following inscription,

Johannes Donne, S.T.P.

Post varia studia, quibus ab annis tenerimusfideliter,
Neo infeliciter, incubit,
Instinctu et impulsu spiritus sancti,monitu et horatu,
Regis Jacobi, ordines sacros amplexus,
Anno sui Jesu 1614, et fuae aetatis 42,
Decanatu hujus ecclesiae indutus 27 Novembris1621,
Exutus morte ultimo die Martii 1631.
Hic, licet in occiduo cinere, aspiciteum,
Cujus nomen est oriens.

Our author’s poems consist of, 1. Songsand Sonnets. 2. Epigrams. 3. Elegies. 4.Epithalamiums, or Marriage Songs. 5. Satires.6. Letters to several Personages. 7. FuneralElegies. 8. Holy Sonnets. They are printedtogether in one volume 12mo. 1719, with the additionof elegies upon the author by several persons.Mr. Dryden in his dedication of Juvenal to the earlof Dorset, has given Dr. Donne the character of thegreatest wit, though not the greatest poet of ournation, and wishes his satires and other works wererendered into modern language. Part of this wishthe world has seen happily executed by the great handof Mr. Pope. Besides the Pseudo-Martyr, and volumeof poems now mentioned, there are extant the followingworks of Dr. Donne, viz.

Devotions upon emergent Occasions, and several stepsin sickness, 4to. London 16. Paradoxes,Problems, Essays, Characters, &c. to which is addeda Book of Epigrams, written in Latin by the same author,and translated into English by Dr. Main, as also Ignatiushis conclave, a Satire, translated out of the originalcopy written in Latin by the same author, found latelyamongst his own papers, 12mo. London 1653.These pieces are dedicated by the author’s son,Dr. John Donne, to Francis Lord Newport.

Three Volumes of Sermons, in folio; the first printedin 1640, the second in 1649, and the third in 1660.

Essays on Divinity, being several disquisitions interwovenwith meditations and prayers before he went into holyorders, published after his death by his son, 1651.

Letters to several persons of honour, published in4to. 1654. There are several of Dr. Donne’sletters, and others to him from the Queen of Bohemia,the earl of Carlisle, archbishop Abbot, and Ben Johnson,printed in a book, entitled A Collection of Lettersmade by Sir Toby Mathews Knt. London 1660, 8vo.

The Ancient history of the Septuagint, translatedfrom the Greek of Aristeus, London 1633, 4to.This translation was revised, and corrected by anotherhand, and printed 1685 in 8vo.

Declaration of that Paradox or Thesis, that Self-Homicideis not so naturally a sin that it may not be otherwise,London, 1644, 1648, &c. 4to. The original underthe author’s own hand is preserved in the BodleianLibrary. Mr. Walton gives this piece the characterof an exact and laborious treatise, ’whereinall the laws violated by that act (self murder) arediligently surveyed and judiciously censured.’The piece from whence I shall take the following quotation,is called a Hymn to God the Father, was composed inthe time of his sickness, which breathes a spiritof fervent piety, though no great force of poetryis discoverable in it.

A hymn to god the father.

Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, tho’ it were donebefore?
Wilt thou forgive that sin through whichI run,
And do run still, tho’ still I dodeplore?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.

Wilt thou forgive that in which I havewon,
Others to sin, and made my sin their door?
Wilt thou forgive that sin, which I didshun,
A year or two, but wallowed in a score?
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,
For I have more.

I have a sin of fear, when I have spun,
My last thread, I shall perish on theshore;
But swear, that at my death, thy son,
Shall shine, as he shines now, and heretofore,
And having done that, thou hast done,
I ask no more.

[Footnote 1: Walton’s Life of Donne]

[Footnote 2: Wood vol. v. col. 554.]

[Footnote 3: Walton p. 29].

[Footnote 4: Life ubi supra p. 52].

[Footnote 5: Walton, p. 39, 41.]

[Footnote 6: Walton ut Supra, p. 46]

* * * * *

MICHAEL DRAYTON

A Renowned poet, who lived in the reigns of Elizabeth,James and Charles I. sprung from an ancient family,originally descended from the town of Drayton in Leicestershire,[1]but his parents removing into Warwickshire, he wasborn there, as he himself declares in his Poly-olbion,Song 13. A little village called Harsul in thatcounty claims the honour of his birth, by which accidentit is raised from obscurity; he was born in the year1573, according to the most accurate computation thatcan be made from the dates of his works. Whenhe was but very young he gave such discoveries of arising genius as rendered him a favourite with histutors, and procured him the patronage of personsof distinction. In the year 1573, being then butabout ten years of age, he was page to some honourableperson, as may be collected from his own words:In some of his epistles to Henry Reynold esquire,it appears that even then he could construe his Cato,and some other little collections of sentences, whichmade him very anxious to know, what sort of beingsthe poets were, and very pressing upon his tutor tomake him, if possible, a poet. In consequenceof this he was put to the reading of Virgil’sEclogues, and ’till even then, says one of hisBiographers, he scorned any thing that looked likea ballad, though written by Elderton himself.This Elderton was a famous comedian in those days,and a facetious companion, who having a great readinessat rhiming, composed many catches on Love and Wine,which were then in great vogue among the giddy andvolatile part of the town; but he was not more celebratedfor drollery than drinking, so that he obtained thename of the bacchanalian buffoon, the red-nosed ballad-maker,&c. and at last by the excessive indulgence of hisfavourite vice, he fell a martyr to it 1592, and Mr.Camden has preserved this epitaph on him, which forits humour, I shall here give a place.

Dead drunk, here Elderton does lie;
Dead as he is, he still is drie.
So of him it may well be said,
Here he, but not his thirst, is laid.

If after this our author did not finish his educationat the university of Cambridge, it is evident fromthe testimony of Sir Alton Cohain, his intimate friend,who mentions him in his Choice Poems of several Sorts,that he was for some time a student at Oxford; however,he is not taken notice of by Wood, who has commemoratedthe most part of the writers who were educated there.In 1588 it appears from his poem, entitled Moses hisBirth and Miracles, that he was a spectator at Doverof the Spanish invasion, which was arrogantly stiledInvincible, and it is not improbable that he was engagedin some military employment there, especially as we

find some mention made of him, as being in esteemwith the gentlemen of the army. He early addictedhimself to the amusem*nt of poetry, but all who havewritten of him, have been negligent in informing ushow soon he favoured the public with any productionof his own. He was distinguished as a poet aboutnine or ten years before the death of Queen Elizabeth,but at what time he began to publish cannot be ascertained.In the year 1593, when he was but 30 years of age,he published a collection of his Pastorals; likewisesome of the most grave poems, and such as have transmittedhis name to posterity with honour, not long after sawthe light. His Baron’s wars, and England’sheroical Epistles; his Downfals of Robert of Normandy;Matilda and Gaveston, for which last he is calledby one of his contemporaries, Tragdiographus, and partof his Polyolbion were written before the year 1598,for all which joined with his personal good character;he was highly celebrated at that time, not only forthe elegance and sweetness of his expressions, buthis actions and manners, which were uniformly virtuousand honourable; he was thus characterised not onlyby the poet; and florid writers of those days, butalso by divines, historians, and other Scholars ofthe most serious turn and extensive learning.In his younger years he was much beloved and patronizedby Sir Walter Aston of Tixhall in Staffordshire, towhom for his kind protection, he gratefully dedicatesmany of his poems, whereof his Barons Wars was thefirst, in the spring of his acquaintance, as Draytonhimself expresses it; but however, it may be gatheredfrom his works, that his most early dependance wasupon another patron, namely, Sir Henry Goodere ofPolesworth, in his own county, to whom he has beengrateful for a great part of his education, and bywhom he was recommended to the patronage of the countessof Bedford: it is no less plain from many ofhis dedications to Sir Walter Ashton, that he was formany years supported by him, and accommodated withsuch supplies as afforded him leisure to finish someof his most elaborate compositions; and the authorof the Biographia Britannica has told us, ’thatit has been alledged, that he was by the interestof the same gentleman with Sir Roger Ashton, one ofthe Bedchamber to King James in his minority, madein some measure ministerial to an intercourse of correspondencebetween the young King of of Scots and Queen Elizabeth:’but as no authority is produced to prove this, itis probably without foundation, as poets have seldominclination, activity or steadiness to manage anystate affairs, particularly a point of so delicatea nature.

Our author certainly had fair prospects, from hisservices, or other testimonies of early attachmentto the King’s interest, of some preferment,besides he had written Sonnets, in praise of the Kingas a poet. Thus we see Drayton descending toservile flattery to promote his interest, and praisinga man as a poet contrary to his own judgment, becausehe was a King who was as devoid of poetry as courage.

He welcomed his Majesty to his British dominions witha congratulatory poem printed in 4to, 1603. Thesame year he was chosen by Sir Walter Aston one ofthe esquires who attended him, when he was with otherscreated knight of the Bath at the coronation of hisMajesty. It no where appears, that ever our authorprinted those poems in praise of his Majesty; andthe ungrateful reception they met, as well as thedisagreeable experience of the universal degeneracyat court, so different from that of the Maiden Reign,might extinguish all hope of raising himself there.

In the year 1613 he published the first part of hisPoly-olbion. It is a chorographical descriptionof the rivers, mountains, forests, castles; &c. inthis Island, intermixed with the remarkable antiquities,rarities, commodities, &c. This part is addressedto Prince Henry, the promising son of James I. bywhose encouragement it was written. He had shewedDrayton some singular marks of his favour, and seemsto have admitted him as one of his poetical pensioners,but dying before the book was finished, he lost thebenefit of his patronage. In this volume thereare eighteen songs, illustrated with the notes ofthe learned Mr. Selden, and there are maps beforeevery song, whereby the cities, mountains, forests,rivers, &c. are represented by the figures of menand women. It is interwoven with many episodes,such as the conquest of this Island by the Romans,the arrival of the Saxons, the Danes and Normans,&c. And bishop Nicholson observes, that Poly-olbionaffords a much more accurate account of this kingdomand the Dominion of Wales than could have been expectedfrom the pen of a poet. How poetically our authorhas conducted and executed his plan, is admirablyexpressed by the ingenious Dr. James Kirkpatrick,in a beautiful poem of his called the Sea-Piece.Canto ii. which I cannot here omit transcribing.

Drayton, sweet ancient bard, his Albionsung,
With their own praise, their ecchoingvallies rung;
His bounding muse o’er every mountainrode,
And ev’ry river warbled where heflow’d.

In 1619 came out his first folio-volume of poems.In 1622 the second part of his Poly-olbion was published,making in all thirty books or songs. In 1622we find him stiled Poet Laureat: It is probablethis appellation of Poet Laureat was not confinedand restricted as it is now to his Majesty’sServant known by that title, who at that time it ispresumed was Ben Johnson, because it was bestowed promiscuouslyas a mark of any poet’s excellency in his profession.

In 1627 was published the second volume of his poems,containing the battle of Agencourt, in stanzas ofeight lines. The mysteries of Queen Margaretin the like stanzas. Nymphidia, or the Court ofFaeries. The Quest of Cynthia, another beautifulpiece, both reprinted in Dryden’s Miscellanies.The Shepherd’s Sirena; also the Moon Calf; Satireon the Masculine Affectations of Women, and the the

effeminate disguises of the Men, in those times.Elegies upon several occasions. These are introducedby the vision of Ben Johnson on the Muse of his friendMichael Drayton, wherein he very particularly enumeratesand praises his several compositions. In 1630he published another volume of poems in 4to, intitledthe Muses Elizium, in ten sundry Nymphals, with threedifferent poems on Noah’s flood; Moses his birthand miracles, and David and Goliath. The pastoralpoems are addressed to Edward Sackville Earl of Dorset,and Lord Chamberlain, who had now made him one ofhis family. His divine poems are written in verseand various measures, and are dedicated to the Countessof Dorset; and there are some sublime images in them.At the end of the first divine poem, there are copiesof verses in praise of the author, by Bcal Sapperton,in Latin; Mr. John Fletcher, and Thomas Andrews inEnglish; the last of whom is very lavish in displayingthe great extent of our poet’s fame.

In 1631 Mr. Drayton died, or as it is expressed inhis monumental inscription, exchanged his laurel fora crown of glory. He was buried among the poetsin Westminster-Abbey, and the handsome table monumentof blue marble which was raised over his grave thesame year, is adorned with his effigies in busto,laureated. On one side is a crest of Minerva’scap, and Pegasus in a scutcheon on the other.Sir Aston co*kain composed an elegy upon him:and Ben Johnson is said to have been the author ofhis epitaph, which is written in letters of gold uponhis monument, with which I shall here present the reader.

Epitaph.

Do pious marble let thy readers know
What they, and what their children owe
To Drayton’s name, whose sacreddust
We recommend unto thy trust:
Protect his memory, and preserve his story,
Remain a lasting monument of his glory;
And when thy ruins shall disclaim,
To be the treasure of his name;
His name, that cannot fade shall be,
An everlasting monument to thee.

Mr. Drayton enjoyed the friendship and admirationof contemporary wits, and Ben Johnson who was notmuch disposed to praise, entertained a high opinionof him, and in this epitaph has both immortalizedhimself and his friend. It is easy for those whoare conversant with our author’s works to seehow much the moderns and even Mr. Pope himself copyMr. Drayton, and refine upon him in those distinctionswhich are esteemed the most delicate improvements ofour English versification, such as the turns, thepauses, the elegant tautologies, &c. It is notdifficult to point out some depredations which havebeen made on our author by modern writers, howeverobsolete some of them may have reckoned him.In one of his heroical epistles, that of King Johnto Matilda, he has the following lines.

Th’ Arabian bird which never isbut one,
Is only chast because she is alone,
But had our mother nature made them two,
They would have done, as Doves and Sparrowsdo.

These are ascribed to the Earl of Rochester, who wasunexceptionably a great wit. They are not otherwisematerially altered, than by the transposure of therhimes in the first couplet, and the retrenchmentof the measure in both. As the sphere in whichthis author moved was of the middle sort, neitherraised to such eminence as to incur danger, nor sodeprest with poverty as to be subject to meanness,his life seems to have flowed with great tranquility;nor are there any of those vicissitudes and distresseswhich have so frequently fallen to the lot of theinspired tribe. He was honoured with the patronageof men of worth, tho’ not of the highest stations;and that author cannot be called a mean one, on whomso great a man as Selden (in many respects the mostfinished scholar that ever appeared in our nation)was pleased to animadvert. His genius seems tohave been of the second rate, much beneath Spencerand Sidney, Shakespear and Johnson, but highly removedabove the ordinary run of versifyers. We shallquote a few lines from his Poly-olbion as a specimenof his poetry.

When he speaks of his native county, Warwickshire,he has the following lines;

Upon the mid-lands now, th’ industriousMuse doth fall,
That shire which we the heart of Englandwell may call,
As she herself extends the midst (whichis decreed)
Betwixt St. Michael’s Mount, andBerwick bordering Tweed,
Brave Warwick, that abroad so long advanc’dher Bear,
By her illustrious Earls, renowned everywhere,
Above her neighbr’ing shires whichalways bore her head.

[Footnote 1: Burton’s Description of Leicestershire,p. 16, 22]

* * * * *

Dr. Richard Corbet, Bishop of Norwich,

Was son of Mr. Vincent Corbet, and born at Ewelb inSurry, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. He waseducated at Westminster school, and from thence wassent to Oxford, 1597, where he was admitted a studentin Christ-church. In 1605, being then esteemedone of the greatest wits of the University, he tookthe degree of Master of Arts, and afterwards enteringinto holy orders, he became a popular preacher, andmuch admired by people of taste and learning.His shining wit, and remarkable eloquence recommendedhim to King James I, who made him one of his chaplainsin ordinary, and in 1620 promoted him to the deaneryof Christ’s-church; about which time he was madedoctor of divinity, vicar of Cassington, near Woodstock,in Oxfordshire, and prebendary of Bedminster-secunda,in the church of Sarum.[1]

While he was dean of Christ’s church, he madeverses on a play acted before the King at Woodstock,called Technogamia, or the marriage of Arts, writtenby Barten Holiday the poet, who afterwards translatedJuvenal. The ill-success it met with in the representationoccasioned several copies of verses, among which,to use Anthony Wood’s words, “Corbet deanof Christ’s-church put in for one, who had thatday it seems preached before the King, with his bandstarched clean, for which he was reproved by the graversort; but those who knew him well took no notice ofit, for they have several times said, that he lovedto the last boy’s play very well.”He was elected, 1629, Bishop of Oxford, in the roomof Dr. Hewson, translated to the See of Durham.Upon the promotion of Dr. White to Ely he was electedbishop of Norwich.

This prelate married Alice, daughter of Dr. LeonardHutton, vicar of Flower in Northamptonshire, and hementions that village in a poem of his called IterBoreale, or a Journey Northward. Our author wasin that celebrated class of poets, Ben Johnson, Dr.Donne, Michael Drayton, and others, who wrote mockcommendatory verses on Tom Coryate’s [2] Crudities.He concurred likewise with other poets of the universityin inviting Ben Johnson to Oxford, where he was createdMaster of Arts. There is extant in the MusaeumAshmoleanum, a funeral oration in Latin, by Dr. Corbet,on the death of Prince Henry, Anno Dom. 1612;[3] Thisgreat man died in the year 1635, and was buried theupper-end of the choir of the cathedral church of Norwich.

He was very hospitable and a generous encourager ofall public designs. When in the year 1634 St.Paul’s cathedral was repaired, he not only contributedhimself, but was very diligent in procuring contributionsfrom others. His works are difficult to be metwith, but from such of his poems as we have had occasionto read, he seems to have been a witty, delicate writer,and to have had a particular talent for panegyric.Wood says, a collection of his poems was publishedunder the title of Poetica Stromata, in 8vo. London1647. In his Iter Boreale, or Journey Northward,we meet with a fine moral reflexion on the burialplace of Richard iii. and Cardinal Wolsey, whowere both interred at Leicester; with which we shallpresent the reader as a specimen of his poetry.

Is not usurping Richard buried here,
That King of hate, and therefore slaveof fear?
Dragg’d from the fatal Bosworthfield where he,
Lost life, and what he liv’d for,—­Cruelty:
Search, find his name, but there is none:O Kings,
Remember whence your power and vastnesssprings;
If not as Richard now, so may you be,
Who hath no tomb, but scorn and memory.
And tho’ from his own store, Wolseymight have
A Palace or a College for his grave,
Yet here he lies interred, as if thatall
Of him to be remembered were his fall.
Nothing but Earth on Earth, no pompousweight
Upon him, but a pebble or a quoit.
If thou art thus neglected, what shallwe,
Hope after death, that are but shredsof thee!

The author of the Biographia Britanica tells us, thathe found in a blank leaf of his poems, some manuscriptverses, in honour of Bishop Corbet signed J.C. withwhich, as they are extremely pretty, and make a justrepresentation of his poetical character, we shallconclude this life.

In flowing wit, if verses writ with ease,
If learning void of pedantry can please,
If much good humour joined to solid sense,
And mirth accompanied with innocence,
Can give a poet a just right to fame,
Then Corbet may immortal honour claim;
For he these virtues had, and in his lines,
Poetic and heroic spirit shines;
Tho’ bright yet solid, pleasant,but not rude,
With wit and wisdom equally endued.
Be silent Muse, thy praises are too faint,
Thou want’st a power this prodigyto paint,
At once a poet, prelate, and a saint.

[Footnote 1: Athen. Oxon. vol. I. col.600—­I.]

[Footnote 2: Winstanley.]

[Footnote 3: Wood. ubi. supra. fol. 509.]

* * * * *

EDWARD FAIRFAX.

All the biographers of the poets have been extremelynegligent with respect to this great genius.Philips so far overlooks him, that he crowds him intohis supplement, and Winstanley, who followed him,postpones our author till after the Earl of Rochester.Sir Thomas Pope Blount makes no mention of him; andMr. Jacob, so justly called the Blunderbus of Law,informs us he wrote in the time of Charles the first,tho’ he dedicates his translation of Tasso toQueen Elizabeth. All who mention him, do himthe justice to allow he was an accomplished genius,but then it is in a way so cool and indifferent, asshews that they had never read his works, or were anyway charmed with the melody of his verses. Itwas impossible Mr. Dryden could be so blind to ourauthor’s beauties; accordingly we find him introducingSpencer and Fairfax almost on the level, as the leadingauthors of their times; nay tacitly yielding the palmin point of harmony to the last; by asserting thatWaller confessed he owed the music of his numbersto Fairfax’s Godfrey of Bulloign. The truthis, this gentleman is perhaps the only writer downto Sir William Davenant, who needs no apology to bemade for him, on account of the age in which he lived.His diction is so pure, elegant, and full of graces,and the turn of his lines so perfectly melodious,that one cannot read it without rapture; and we canscarcely imagine the original Italian has greatlythe advantage in either, nor is it very probable thatwhile Fairfax can be read, any author will attempta new translation of Tasso with success. Mr.Fairfax was natural son of Sir Thomas Fairfax of Denton,and natural brother to Sir Thomas Fairfax, the firstwho was created Baron of Cameron. His youngerbrother was knighted, and slain at the memorable siegeof Ostend, 1601, of which place he was some time governor[1].

When he married is not on record, or in what circ*mstanceshe lived: But it is very probable, his fathertook care to support him in a manner suitable to hisown quality, and his son’s extraordinary merit,he being always stiled Edward Fairfax, Esq; of Newhallin Fuystone, in the forest of Knaresborough. Theyear in which he died is likewise uncertain, and thelast account we hear of him is, that he was livingin 1631, which shews, that he was then pretty welladvanced in years, and as I suppose gave occasion tothe many mistakes that have been made as to the timeof his writing. Besides the translation of Godfreyof Bulloigne, Mr. Fairfax wrote the history of Edwardthe Black Prince, and certain eclogues, which Mrs.Cooper tells us are yet in manuscript, tho’(says she) “by the indulgence of the family,from whom I had likewise the honour of these memoirs,I am permitted to oblige the world with a specimenof their beauties.” He wrote also a bookcalled, Daemonologie, in which he shews a great dealof ancient reading and knowledge; it is still in manuscript,and in the beginning he gives this character of himself[2].“I am in religion neither a fantastic Puritan,nor superstitious Papist, but so settled in conscience,that I have the sure ground of God’s word towarrant all I believe, and the commendable ordinancesof our English Church, to approve all I practise;In which course I live a faithful Christian, and anobedient, and so teach my family.” The ecloguesalready mentioned are twelve in number, all of themwritten after the accession of King James to the throneof England, on important subjects, relating to themanners, characters, and incidents of the times helived in: they are pointed with many fine strokesof satire, dignified with noble instructions of morality,and policy, to those of the highest rank, and somemodest hints to Majesty itself. The learningcontained in these eclogues is so various and extensive,lhat according to the opinion of his son, who haswritten long annotations on each, no man’s readingbesides his own was sufficient to explain his referenceseffectually. As his translation of Tasso is inevery body’s hand, we shall take the specimenfrom the fourth eclogue, called Eglon and Alexis,as I find it in Mrs. Cooper’s collection.

Eglon and Alexis.

Whilst on the rough, and heath-strew’dwilderness
His tender flocks the rasps, and bramblecrop,
Poor shepherd Eglon, full of sad distress!
By the small stream, fat on a mole-hilltop:
Crowned with a wreath of Heban branchesbroke:
Whom good Alexis found, and thus bespoke.

Alexis.

My friend, what means this silent lamentation?
Why on this field of mirth, this realmof smiles
Doth the fierce war of grief make suchinvasion?
Witty Timanthes[3] had he seen, e’rewhiles,
What face of woe thy cheek of sadnessbears,
He had not curtained Agamemnon’s

tears.
The black ox treads not yet upon thy toe,
Nor thy good fortune turns her wheel awaye;
Thy flocks increase, and thou increasestso,
Thy straggling goates now mild, and gentlely;
And that fool love thou whipst away withrods;
Then what sets thee, and joy so far atodds?

[Footnote 1: Muses Library, p. 343.]

[Footnote 2: Muses Library, p. 344.]

[Footnote 3: Timanthes the painter, who designingthe sacrifice of Iphigenia, threw a veil over theface of Agamemnon, not able to express a father’sanguish.]

* * * * *

THOMAS RANDOLPH,

A Poet of no mean genius, was born at Newnham, nearDaintry in Northamptonshire, the 15th of June, 1605;he was son of William Randolph of Hams, near Lewesin Sussex, was educated at Westminster school, andwent from thence to Trinity College in Cambridge, 1623,of which he became a fellow; he commenced Master ofArts, and in this degree was incorporated at Oxon[1],became famous (says Wood) for his ingenuity, beingthe adopted son of Ben Johnson, and accounted oneof the most pregnant wits of his age. The quicknessof his parts was discovered early; when he was aboutnine or ten years old he wrote the History of theIncarnation of Our Saviour in verse, which is preservedin manuscript under his own hand writing. Randolphreceives from Langbaine the highest encomium.He tells his readers that they need expect no discoveriesof thefts, for this author had no occasion to practiceplagiary, having so large a fund of wit of his own,that he needed not to borrow from others. Werea foreigner to form a notion of the merit of the Englishpoets from reading Langbaine, they would be in raptureswith Randolph and Durfey, and others of their class,while Dryden, and the first-rate wits, would be quiteneglected; Langbaine is so far generous, that he doesall he can to draw obscure men into light, but thenhe cannot be acquitted of envy, for endeavouring toshade the lustre of those whose genius has broke throughobscurity without his means, and he does no serviceto his country while he confines his panegyric tomean versifiers, whom no body can read without a certaindegree of contempt.

Our author had done nothing in life it seems worthpreserving, or at least that cotemporary historiansthought so, for there is little to be learned concerninghim. Wood says he was like other poets, muchaddicted to libertine indulgence, and by being toofree with his constitution in the company of his admirers,and running into fashionable excesses, he was themeans of shortening his own days. He died atlittle Haughton in Northamptonshire, and was buriedin an isle adjoining to the church in that place,on the 17th of March, 1634. He had soon aftera monument of white marble, wreathed about with laurel,erected over his grave at the charge of lord Hatton

of Kirby. Perhaps the greatest merit which thisauthor has to plead, is his attachment to Ben Johnson,and admiration of him: Silius Italicus performedan annual visit to Virgil’s tomb, and that circ*mstancereflects more honour upon him in the eyes of Virgil’sadmirers, than all the works of that author.Langbaine has preserved a monument of Randolph’sfriendship for Ben Johnson, in an ode he addressedto him, occasioned by Mr. Feltham’s severe attackupon him, which is particularized in the life of Ben;from this ode we shall quote a stanza or two, beforeI give an account of his dramatic compositions.

Ben, do not leave the stage,
’Cause ’tis a loathsome age;
For pride, and impudence will grow toobold,
When they shall hear it told,
They frighted thee; stand high as is thycause,
Their hiss is thy applause.
Most just were thy disdain,
Had they approved thy vein:
So thou for them, and they for thee wereborn;
They to incense, and thou too much toscorn.

Wilt thou engross thy store
Of wheat, and pour no more,
Because their bacon brains have such ataste
As more delight in mast?
No! set them forth a board of dainties,full
As thy best muse can cull;
Whilst they the while do pine,
And thirst ’midst all their wine,
What greater plague can hell itself devize,
Than to be willing thus to tantalize?

The reader may observe that the stanzas are reasonablysmooth, and mark him a tolerable versifier. Ishall now give some account of his plays.

1. Amyntas, or the Impossible Dowry, a Pastoralacted before the King and Queen at Whitehall. 2.Aristippus, or the Jovial Philosopher; presented ina private shew, to which is added the Conceited Pedlar.3. Jealous Lovers, a Comedy, presented to theirMajesties at Cambridge, by the students of TrinityCollege. This play Langbaine thinks the bestof Randolph’s, as appears by an epilogue writtenby Mrs. Behn, and printed in her collection of poemspublished in 8vo, 1681; it was revised and printedby the author in his life-time, being ushered intothe world with copies of verses by some of the bestwits, both of Oxford and Cambridge. 4. MusesLooking Glass, a Comedy, which by the author was firstcalled The Entertainment; as appears from Sir Astonco*kaine’s Works, who writ an encomium on it,and Mr. Richard West said of it,

Who looks within this clearer glass willsay,
At once he writ an ethic tract and play.

All these dramatic pieces and poems were publishedin 1668; he translated-likewise the second Epod ofHorace, several pieces out of Claudian, and likewisea dramatic piece from Aristophanes, which he callsHey for Honesty, Down with Knavery, a pleasant comedyprinted in 4to. London 1651. A gentlemanof St. John’s College, writes thus in honourof our author;

Immortal Ben is dead, and as that ball,
On Ida toss’d so in his crown, byall
The infantry of wit. Vain priests!that chair
Is only fit for his true son and heir.
Reach here thy laurel: Randolph,’tis thy praise:
Thy naked skull shall well become thebays.
See, Daphne courts thy ghost; and spiteof fate,
Thy poems shall be Poet Laureate.

[Footnote 1: Athen. Oxon. p. 224.]

* * * * *

GEORGE CHAPMAN

Was born in the year 1557, but of what family he isdescended, Mr. Wood has not been able to determine;he was a man in very high reputation in his time,and added not a little to dramatic excellence.In 1574, being well grounded in grammar learning, hewas sent to the university, but it is not clear whetherto Oxford or Cambridge; it is certain that he wassometime in Oxford, and was taken notice of for hisgreat skill in the Latin and Greek languages, but notin logic and philosophy, which is the reason it maybe presumed, that he took no degree there. Afterthis he came to London, and contracted an acquaintance,as Wood says, with Shakespear, Johnson, Sidney, Spenserand Daniel. He met with a very warm patronagefrom Sir Thomas Walsingham, who had always had a constantfriendship for him, and after that gentleman’sdecease, from his son Thomas Walsingham, esquire,whom Chapman loved from his birth. He was alsorespected, and held in esteem by Prince Henry, andRobert earl of Somerset, but the first being untimelysnatched away, and the other justly disgraced foran assassination[1], his hopes of preferment were bythese means frustrated; however, he was a servanteither to King James I. or Queen Anne his consort,through whose reign he was highly valued by all hisold friends, only there are some insinuations, thatas his reputation grew, Ben Johnson, naturally haughtyand insolent, became jealous of him, and endeavouredto suppress, as much as possible, his rising fame[2],as Ben, after the death of Shakespear, was withouta rival.

Chapman was a man of a reverend aspect, and gracefulmanner, religious and temperate, qualities which seldommeet (says Wood) in a poet, and was so highly esteemedby the clergy, that some of them have said, “thatas Musaeus, who wrote the lives of Hero and Leander,had two excellent scholars, Thamarus and Hercules,so had he in England in the latter end of Queen Elizabeth,two excellent imitators in the same argument and subject,viz. Christopher Marlow, and George Chapman.”Our author has translated the Iliad of Homer, publishedin folio, and dedicated to Prince Henry, which isyet looked upon with some respect. He is saidto have had the spirit of a poet in him, and was indeedno mean genius: Pope somewhere calls him an enthusiastin poetry. He likewise translated the Odyssey,and the Battle of Frogs and Mice, which were published

in 1614, and dedicated to the earl of Somerset; tothis work is added Hymns and Epigrams, written by Homer,and translated by our author. He likewise attemptedsome part of Hesiod, and continued a translation ofMusaeus AErotopegnion de Herone & Leandro. Prefixedto this work, are some anecdotes of the life of Musaeus,taken by Chapman from the collection of Dr. WilliamGager, and a dedication to the most generally ingeniousand only learned architect of his time, Inigo Jonesesquire, Surveyor of his Majesty’s Works.At length, says Wood, this reverend and eminent poet,having lived 77 years in this vain, transitory world,made his last exit in the parish of St. Giles’sin the Fields, near London, on the 12th day of May,1655, and was buried in the yard on the South sideof the church in St. Giles’s: soon aftera monument was erected over his grave, built afterthe manner of the old Romans, at the expence, andunder the direction of his much loved worthy friendInigo Jones, whereon is this engraven, Georgius Chapmannus,Poeta Homericus, Philosophus verus (etsi ChristianusPoeta) plusquam Celebris, &c.

His dramatic works are,

All Fools, a Comedy, presented at the Black Fryars,and afterwards before his Majesty King James I. inthe beginning of his reign, and printed in 4to.London 1605. The plot is taken, and the charactersformed upon Terence’s Heautontimorumenos.The Prologue and Epilogue writ in blank verse, shewthat in these days persons of quality, and they thatthought themselves good critics, in place of fittingin the boxes, as they now do, sat on the stage; whatinfluence those people had on the meanest sort ofthe audience, may be seen by the following lines inthe Prologue written by Chapman himself.

Great are the gifts given to united heads;
To gifts, attire, to fair attire the stage
Helps much; for if our other audiencesee,
You on the stage depart before we end,
Our wit goes with you all, and we arefools.

Alphonsus Emperor of Germany, a Tragedy, often actedwith applause at a private house in Black Fryars,by the servants of King Charles I. printed in 4to.London 1654. This play, though it bears the nameof Alphonsus, was writ, as Langbaine supposes, inhonour of the English nation, in the person of Richard,Earl of Cornwal, son to King John, and brother toHenry iii. He was chosen King of the Romansin 1527. About this time Alphonsus, the FrenchKing was chosen by other electors. Though thisKing was accounted by some a pious prince, yet ourauthor represents him as a bloody tyrant, and, contraryto other historians, brings him to an unfortunateend, he supposing him to be killed by Alexander, sonto Lorenzo de Cipres his secretary, in revenge ofhis father, who was poisoned by him, and to compleathis revenge, he makes him first deny his Saviour inhopes of life, and then stabs him, glorying that hehad at once destroyed both body and soul. Thispassage is related by several authors, as Bolton’sFour last Things, Reynolds of the Passions, Clark’sExamples, &c.

Blind Beggar of Alexandria, a Comedy, printed 1598,dedicated to the earl of Nottingham, Lord High Admiral.Bussy d’Amboise, a Tragedy, often presentedat St. Paul’s, in the reign of King James I.and since the Restoration with great applause; forthe plot see Thuanus, Jean de Serres, and Mezeray,in the reign of King Henry iii. of France.This is the play of which Mr. Dryden speaks, whenin his preface to the Spanish Fryar, he resolves toburn one annually to the memory of Ben Johnson.Some have differed from Mr. Dryden in their opinionof this piece, but as the authorities who have applauded,are not so high as Mr. Dryden’s single authority,it is most reasonable to conclude not much in itsfavour.

Bussy d’Amboise his Revenge, a Tragedy, printed1613, and dedicated to Sir Thomas Howard. Thisplay is generally allowed to fall short of the formerof that name, yet the author, as appears from his dedication,had a higher opinion of it himself, and rails at thosewho dared to censure it; it is founded upon fiction,which Chapman very justly defends, and says that thereis no necessity for any play being founded on truth.

Conspiracy and Tragedy of Charles, Duke of Byron,Marshal of France, in two plays, acted at the BlackFryars in the reign of King James I. printed in 4to.London 1608, dedicated to Sir Thomas Walsingham.

Caesar and Pompey, a Roman Tragedy, printed 1631,and dedicated to the Earl of Middlesex.

Gentleman Usher, a Comedy, printed in 4to. London1606. We are not certain whether this play wasever acted, and it has but an indifferent character.

Humourous Day’s Mirth, a Comedy; this is a verytolerable play.

Mask of the Two Honourable Houses, or Inns of Court,the Middle-Temple, and Lincoln’s-Inn, performedbefore the King at Whitehall, on Shrove Monday atnight, being the 15th of February, 1613, at the celebrationof the Royal Nuptials of the Palsgrave, and the PrincessElizabeth, &c. with a description of their whole shew,in the manner of their march on horseback, from theMaster of the Rolls’s house to the court, withall their noble consorts, and shewful attendants;invented and fashioned, with the ground and specialstructure of the whole work by Inigo Jones; this Maskis dedicated to Sir Edward Philips, then Master ofthe Rolls. At the end of the Masque is printedan Epithalamium, called a Hymn for the most happy Nuptialsof the Princess Elizabeth, &c.

May-Day, a witty Comedy, acted at the Black Fryars,and printed in 4to. 1611.

Monsieur d’Olive, a Comedy, acted by her Majesty’schildren at the Black Fryars, printed in 4to. 1606.

Revenge for Honour, a Tragedy, printed 1654.

Temple, a Masque.

Two Wise-men, and all the rest Fools, or a ComicalMoral, censuring the follies of that age, printedin London 1619. This play is extended to sevenacts, a circ*mstance which Langbaine says he neversaw in any other, and which, I believe, has neverbeen practised by any poet, ancient or modern, buthimself.

Widow’s Tears, a Comedy, often presented inthe Black and White Fryars, printed in 4to. London1612; this play is formed upon the story of the EphesianMatron. These are all the plays of our author,of which we have been able to gain any account; hejoined with Ben Johnson and Marston in writing a Comedycalled Eastward-Hoe; this play has been since revivedby Tate, under the title of Cuckolds Haven. Ithas been said that for some reflections contained init against the Scotch nation; Ben Johnson narrowlyescaped the pillory. See more of this, page 237.

[Footnote 1: See the Life of Overbury.]

[Footnote 2: Wood’s Athen. Oxon.]

* * * * *

BEN JOHNSON,

One of the best dramatic poets of the 17th century,was descended from a Scots family, his grandfather,who was a gentleman, being originally of Annandalein that kingdom, whence he removed to Carlisle, andafterwards was employed in the service of King HenryVIII. His father lost his estate under QueenMary, in whose reign he suffered imprisonment, andat last entered into holy orders, and died about amonth before our poet’s birth[1], who was bornat Westminster, says Wood, in the year 1574.He was first educated at a private school in the churchof St. Martin’s in the Fields, afterwards removedto Westminster school, where the famous Camden wasmaster. His mother, who married a bricklayerto her second husband, took him from school, and obligedhim to work at his father-in-law’s trade, butbeing extremely averse to that employment, he wentinto the low countries, where he distinguished himselfby his bravery, having in the view of the army killedan enemy, and taken the opima spolia from him.

Upon his return to England, he applied himself againto his former studies, and Wood says he was admittedinto St. John’s College in the university ofCambridge, though his continuance there seems to havebeen but short. He had some time after this themisfortune to fight a duel, and kill his adversary,who only slightly wounded him in the arm; for thishe was imprisoned, and being cast for his life, wasnear execution; his antagonist, he said, had a swordten inches longer than his own.

While he lay in prison, a popish priest visited him,who found his inclination quite disengaged as to religion,and therefore took the opportunity to impress himwith a belief of the popish tenets. His mindthen naturally melancholy, clouded with apprehensions,and the dread of execution, was the more easily imposedupon. However, such was the force of that impression,that for twelve years after he had gained his liberty,he continued in the catholic faith, and at last turnedProtestant, whether from conviction or fashion cannotbe determined; but when the character of Ben is considered,probability will be upon the side of the latter, forhe took every occasion to ridicule religion in his

plays, and make it his sport in conversation.On his leaving the university he entered himself intoan obscure playhouse, called the Green Curtain, somewhereabout Shoreditch or Clerkenwell. He was firstan actor, and probably only a strolling one; for Deckerin his Satyromastix, a play published in 1602, anddesigned as a reply to Johnson’s Poetaster,’reproaches him with having left the occupationof a mortar trader to turn actor, and with having putup a supplication to be a poor journeyman player, inwhich he would have continued, but that he could notset a good face upon it, and so was cashiered.Besides, if we admit that satire to be built on facts,we learn further, that he performed the part of Zulimanat the Paris Garden in Southwark, and ambled by aplay-waggon on the high-way, and took mad Jeronymo’spart to get service amongst the mimicks[2].’Shakespear is said to have first introduced him tothe world, by recommending a play of his to the stage,at the time when one of the players had rejected hisperformance, and told him it would be of no serviceto their company[3]. His first printed dramaticperformance was a Comedy, entitled Every Man in hisHumour, acted in the year 1598, which being soon followedby several others, as his Sejanus, his Volpone, hisSilent Woman, and his Alchymist, gained him so higha reputation, that in October 1619, upon the deathof Mr. Samuel Daniel he was made Poet Laureat to KingJames I. and on the 19th of July, the same year, hewas created (says Wood) Master of Arts at Oxford, havingresided for some time at Christ Church in that university.He once incurred his Majesty’s displeasure forbeing concerned with Chapman and Marston in writinga play called Eastward-Hoe, wherein they were accusedof having reflected upon the Scotch nation. SirJames Murray represented it to the King, who orderedthem immediately to be imprisoned, and they were ingreat danger of losing their ears and noses, as acorrection of their wantonness; nor could the mostpartial have blamed his Majesty, if the punishmenthad been inflicted; for surely to ridicule a countryfrom which their Sovereign had just come, the placeof his nativity, and the kingdom of his illustriousforefathers, was a most daring insult. Upon theirreleasem*nt from prison, our poet gave an entertainmentto his friends, among whom were Camden and Selden;when his aged mother drank to him[4] and shewed hima paper of poison which she had designed, if the sentenceof punishment had been inflicted, to have mixed withhis drink after she had first taken a potion of itherself.

Upon the accession of Charles I. to the crown, hewrote a petition to that Prince, craving, that ashis royal father had allowed him an annual pensionof a hundred marks, he would make them pounds.In the year 1629 Ben fell sick, and was then poor,and lodged in an obscure alley; his Majesty was supplicatedin his favour, who sent him ten guineas. Whenthe messenger delivered the sum, Ben took it in hishand, and said, “His Majesty has sent me tenguineas because I am poor and live in an alley, goand tell him that his soul lives in an alley.”

He had a pension from the city of London, from severalof the nobility and gentry, and particularly fromMr. Sutton the founder of the Charterhouse.[5] Inhis last sickness he often repented of the profanationof scripture in his plays. He died the 16th ofAugust 1637, in the 63d year of his age, and was interredthree days after in Westminster Abbey; he had severalchildren who survived him.

Ben Johnson conceived so high an opinion of Mr. Drummondof Hawthornden by the letters which passed betweenthem, that he undertook a journey into Scotland, andresided some time at Mr. Drummond’s seat there,who has printed the heads of their conversation, andas it is a curious circ*mstance to know the opinionof so great a man as Johnson of his cotemporary writers,these heads are here inserted.

“Ben, says Mr. Drummond, was eat up with fancies;he told me, that about the time the Plague raged inLondon, being in the country at Sir Robert Cotton’shouse with old Camden, he saw in a vision his eldestson, then a young child, and at London, appear untohim, with the mark of a bloody cross on his forehead,as if it had been cut with a sword; at which amazed,he prayed unto God, and in the morning he came toMr. Camden’s chamber to tell him; who persuadedhim, it was but an apprehension, at which he shouldnot be dejected. In the mean time, there cameletters from his wife of the death of that boy in theplague. He appeared to him, he said, of a manlyshape, and of that growth he thinks he shall be atthe resurrection. He said, he spent many a nightin looking at his great toe, about which he had seenTartars, and Turks, Romans and Carthaginians fightin his imagination.

“That he had a design to write an epic poem,and was to call it Chrologia; or the Worthies of hisCountry, all in couplets, for he detested all otherrhime. He said he had written a discourse onpoetry, both against Campion and Daniel, especiallythe last, where he proves couplets to be the bestsort of verses.” His censure of the Englishpoets was as follows:

“That Sidney did not keep a decorum, in makingevery one speak as well as himself. Spenser’sstanza pleased him not, nor his matter; the meaningof the allegory of the Fairy Queen he delivered inwriting to Sir Walter Raleigh, which was, that bythe bleating beast he understood the Puritans; andby the false Duessa, the Queen of Scots. SamuelDaniel was a good honest man, had no children, andwas no poet, and that he had wrote the civil warswithout having one battle in all his book. ThatDrayton’s Poly-olbion, if he had performed whathe promised to write, the Deeds of all the Worthies,had been excellent. That Sylvester’s translationof Du Bartas was not well done, and that he wrotehis verses before he understood to confer; and thoseof Fairfax were not good. That the translationsof Homer and Virgil in long Alexandrines were butprose. That Sir John Harrington’s Ariosto

of all translations was the worst. He said Donnewas originally a poet; his grandfather on the mother’sside, was Heywood the epigramatist. That Donnefor not being understood would perish. He affirmed,that Donne wrote all his best pieces before he wastwenty years of age. He told Donne, that hisAnniversary was prophane, and fall of blasphemies,that if it had been written on the virgin Mary ithad been tolerable. To which Donne answered, thathe described the idea of a woman but not as she was.That Sir Walter Raleigh esteemed fame more than conscience;the best wits in England were employed in making hishistory. Ben himself had written a piece to himon the Punic war, which he altered and put in hisbook. He said there was no such ground for anheroic poem, as King Arthur’s fiction, and SirPhilip Sidney had an intention of turning all his Arcadiato the stories of King Arthur. He said Owen wasa poor pedantic school-master, sucking his livingfrom the posteriors of little children, and has nothinggood in him, his epigrams being bare narrations.He loved Fletcher, Beaumont and Chapman. ThatSir William Alexander was not half kind to him, andneglected him because a friend to Drayton. ThatSir R. Ayton loved him dearly; he fought several timeswith Marston, and says that Marston wrote his fatherin Law’s preachings, and his father in law hiscomedies.”

Mr. Drummond has represented the character of ourauthor in a very disadvantageous, though perhaps notin a very unjust light. “That he was agreat lover and praiser of himself; a contemner andscorner of others, rather chusing to lose a friendthan a jest; jealous of every word and action of thoseabout him, especially after drink, which was one ofthe elements in which he lived; a dissembler of theparts which reigned in him; a bragger of some goodthat he wanted: he thought nothing right, butwhat either himself or some of his friends had saidor done. He was passionately kind and angry; carelesseither to gain or to keep, vindictive, but if he waswell answered, greatly chagrined; interpreting thebest sayings and deeds often to the worst. Hewas for any religion, being versed in all; his inventionswere smooth and easy, but above all he excelled intranslation. In short, he was in his personalcharacter the very reverse of Shakespear, as surly,ill-natured, proud and disagreeable, as Shakespearwith ten times his merit was gentle, good-natured,easy and amiable.” He had a very strongmemory; for he tells himself in his discoveries thathe could in his youth have repeated all that he hadever written, and so continued till he was past forty;and even after that he could have repeated whole booksthat he had read, and poems of some select friends,which he thought worth remembring.

Mr. Pope remarks, that when Ben got possesion of thestage, he brought critical learning into vogue, andthat this was not done without difficulty, which appearsfrom those frequent lessons (and indeed almost declamations)which he was forced to prefix to his first plays,and put into the mouths of his actors, the Grex, Chorus,&c. to remove the prejudices and inform the judgementof his hearers. Till then the English authorshad no thoughts of writing upon the model of the ancients:their tragedies were only histories in dialogue, andtheir comedies followed the thread of any novel, asthey found it, no less implicitly than if it had beentrue history. Mr. Selden in his preface to histitles of honour, stiles Johnson, his beloved friendand a singular poet, and extols his special worthin literature, and his accurate judgment. Mr.Dryden gives him the title of the greatest man ofthe last age, and observes, that if we look upon him,when he was himself, (for his last plays were buthis dotages) he was the most learned and judiciouswriter any theatre ever had; that he was a most severejudge of himself as well as others; that we cannotsay he wanted wit, but rather that he was frugal ofit; that in his works there is little to be retrenchedor altered; but that humour was his chief province.

Ben had certainly no great talent for versification,nor does he seem to have had an extraordinary ear;his verses are often wanting in syllables, and sometimeshave too many.

I shall quote some lines of his poem to the memoryof Shakespear, before I give a detail of his pieces.

To the memory of my beloved the author Mr. WilliamShakespear, and what he hath left us.

To draw no envy (Shakespear) on thy name,
Am I thus ample to thy book and fame:
While I confess thy writings to be such,
As neither man nor muse can praise toomuch.
’Tis true, and all men’s suffrage.But these ways
Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise:
For silliest ignorance, on these may light,
Which when it sounds at best but ecchoesright;
As blind affection, which doth ne’eradvance
The truth; but gropes, and urgeth allby chance;
A crafty malice might pretend his praise,
And think to ruin where it seem’dto raise.
These are, as some infamous baud or whor*,
Should praise a matron: What couldhurt her more?
But thou art proof against them, and indeed,
Above th’ ill fortune of them, orthe need.
I therefore will begin. Soul of theage!
Th’ applause, delight, the wonderof the stage!
My Shakespear rise; I will not lodge theeby,
Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lye,
A little further to make thee a room:
Thou art a monument without a tomb,
And art alive still, while the book dothlive,
And we have wits to read, and praise togive.
That I not mix thee so, my brain excuses;

I mean with great but disproportion’dmuses:
For if I thought, my judgment were ofyears,
I should commit thee surely with thy peers,
And tell how far thou did’st ourLily outshine,
Or sporting Kid, or Marlow’s mightyline.

He then goes on to challenge all antiquity to matchShakespear; but the poetry is so miserable, that thereader will think the above quotation long enough.

Ben has wrote above fifty several pieces which wemay rank under the species of dramatic poetry; ofwhich I shall give an account in order, beginningwith one of his best comedies.

1. [6] Alchymist, a comedy, acted in the year 1610.Mr. Dryden supposes this play was copied from thecomedy of Albumazer, as far as concerns the Alchymist’scharacter; as appears from his prologue prefixed tothat play, when it was revived in his time.

2. Bartholomew Fair, a comedy, acted at the Hopeon the Bankside, October 31, in 1614, by the ladyElizabeth’s servants, and then dedicated toJames I.

3. Cataline’s conspiracy, a tragedy, firstacted in the year 1611. In this our author hastranslated a great part of Salust’s history;and it is when speaking of this play, that Drydensays, he did not borrow but commit depredations uponthe ancients. Tragedy was not this author’stalent; he was totally without tenderness, and wasso far unqualified for tragedy.

4. Challenge at Tilt, at a Marriage, printed1640.

5. Christmas’s Masque, presented at court1616.

6. Cloridia, or the Rites of Cloris and her Nymphs,personated in a Masque at court, by the Queen andher Ladies, at Shrove Tide, 1630.

7. Cynthia’s Revels, or the Fountain ofSelf-love, a comical Satire, first acted in the year1600, by the then children of Queen Elizabeth’schapel, with the allowance of the Master of the Revels,printed in folio, 1640.

8. The Devil is an Ass, a Comedy, acted in theyear 1616.

9. Entertainment of King James in passing hisCoronation, printed in folio, 1640.

10. Entertainment in Private of the King andQueen on May-day in the morning, at Sir William Cornwallis’shouse at Highgate, 1604.

11. Entertainment of King James and Queen atTheobald’s, when the house was delivered up,with the possession to the Queen, by the earl of Salisbury1607, the Prince of Janvile, brother to the Duke ofGuise being then present.

12. Entertainment in particular of the Queenand Prince, their Highnesses at Althrope at the LordSpenser’s, 1603, as they came first into thekingdom.

13. Entertainment of the Two Kings of Great Britainand Denmark, at Theobald’s, July 24th 1606,printed 1640.

14. Every Man in his Humour, a Comedy, actedin the year 1598, by the then Lord Chamberlain’sservants, and dedicated to Mr. Camden. This playhas been often revived since the restoration.

15. Every Man out of his Humour, a comical Satire,first acted 1599, and dedicated to the Inns of Court.This play was revived 1675, at which time a new Prologueand Epilogue were spoke by Jo. Haynes, writtenby Mr. Duffel.

16. Fortunate Isles, and their Union celebrated,in a Masque, designed for the Court on Twelfth-Night,1626.

17. Golden Age Restored, in a Masque, at Court1615, by the Lords and Gentlemen, the King’sservants.

18. Hymenaei, or the Solemnities of a Masque,and Barriers at a Marriage, printed 1640. Tothis Masque are annexed by the author, Notes on theMargin, for illustration of the ancient Greek and RomanCustoms.

19. Irish Masque, at Court, by the King’sservants.

20. King’s Entertainment at Welbeck inNottinghamshire, at the House of the Right HonourableWilliam, Earl of Newcastle, at his going to Scotland,1633.

21. Love freed from Ignorance and Folly, a Masque.

22. Love Restored, in a Masque, at Court, 1630.

23. Love’s Welcome, the King and Queen’sEntertainment at Bolsover, at the Earl of Newcastle’s,1634.

24. Magnetick Lady, or Humours Reconciled, aComedy, acted at the Black Fryars, and printed 1640.This play was smartly and virulently attacked by Dr.Gill, Master of St. Paul’s school, part of which,on account of the answer which Ben gave to it, weshall take the trouble to transcribe.

But to advise thee Ben, in this strictage,
A brick-hill’s better for thee thana stage;
Thou better know’st a Groundfilfor to lay
Than lay a plot, or Groundwork of a play,
And better canst direct to cap a chimney,
Than to converse with Chlio, or Polyhimny.

Fall then to work in thy old age agen,
Take up thy trug and trowel, gentle Ben,
Let plays alone; or if thou need’stwill write,
And thrust thy feeble muse into the light;
Let Lowen cease, and Taylor scorn to touch,
The loathed stage, for thou hast madeit such.

These lines are without wit, and without poetry; theycontain a mean reflexion on Ben’s original employment,of which he had no occasion to be ashamed; but hewas paid in kind, and Ben answers him with equal virulence,and in truth it cannot be said with more wit or poetry,for it is difficult to determine which author’sverses are most wretched.

Shall the prosperity of a pardon still
Secure thy railing rhymes, infamous Gill,
At libelling? shall no star chamber peers,
Pillory, nor whip, nor want of ears,
All which thou hast incurred deservedly,
Nor degradation from the ministry
To be the Denis of thy father’sschool,
Keep in thy bawling wit, thou bawlingfool.
Thinking to stir me, thou hast lost thyend,
I’ll laugh at thee, poor wretchedTyke, go send
Thy boltant muse abroad, and teach itrather
A tune to drown the ballads of thy father.
For thou hast nought to cure his fame,
But tune and noise, and eccho of his shame.
A rogue by statute, censured to be whipt,
Cropt, branded, flit, neck-flockt:go, you are stript.

25. Masque, at the Lord Viscount Hadington’sMarriage at Court, on Shrove Tuesday at night, 1608.

26. Masque of Augurs, with several Antimasques,presented on Twelfth Night, 1608.

27. Masque of Owls, at Kenelworth, presentedby the Ghost of Captain Cox, mounted on his Hobby-Horse,1626.

28. Masque of Queens celebrated from the Houseof Fame, by the Queen of Great Britain with her Ladiesat Whitehall, 1609.

29. Masque, presented in the house of lord Hayby several noblemen, 1617, for the French ambassador.

30. Metamorphosed Gypsies, a Masque, thrice presentedto King James, 1621.

31. Mercury vindicated from the Alchymist’s,at Court.

32. Mortimer’s Fall, a Tragedy, or rathera fragment, being just begun and left imperfect byhis death.

33. Neptune’s Triumph for the return ofAlbion, in a Masque, at court.

34. News from the New World discovered in theMoon, presented 1620 at court.

35. Oberon, the Fairy Prince, a Masque, of PrinceHenry’s.

36. Pan’s Anniversary, or the Shepherd’sHoliday, a Masque, 1625.

37. Pleasure reconciled to Virtue, a Masque,presented at court, 1619.

38. Poetaster, or his Arraignment, a comicalSatire, first acted in the year 1601.

39. Queen’s Masques, the first of Blackness,presented 1605; the second of Beauty, was presentedat the same court 1608.

40. Sad Shepherd, or a Tale of Robin Hood, aPastoral.

41. Sejanus’s Fall, a Tragedy, acted inthe year 1603. This play has met with success,and was ushered into the world by nine copies of verses,one of which was writ by Mr. Chapman. Mr. Gentlemanhas lately published a Tragedy under the same title,in which he acknowledges the parts he took from Johnson.

42.[6] Silent Woman, a Comedy, first acted in theyear 1609. This is reckoned one of Ben’sbest comedies; Mr. Dryden has done it the honour tomake some criticisms upon it.

43. Speeches at Prince Henry’s Barriers,printed in folio 1640.

44. Staple of News, a Comedy, acted in the year1625.

45. Tale of a Tub, a Comedy.

46. Time vindicated to himself and to his Honour,presented 12 nights, 1623.

47.[6] Volpone, or the Fox, a Comedy, first actedin the year 1605; this is one of his acted plays.

48. Case is altered, a Comedy, acted and printed1609.

49. Widow, a Comedy, acted at the private housein Black Fryars.

50. New Inn, or the Light Heart, a Comedy, acted1629. This play did not succeed to his expectation,and Ben being filled with indignation at the people’swant of taste, wrote an Ode addressed to himself onthat occasion, advising him to quit the stage, whichwas answered by Mr. Feltham.

Thus have we given a detail of Ben Johnson’sworks. He is allowed to have been a scholar,and to have understood and practised the dramaticrules; but Dryden proves him to have likewise beenan unbounded plagiary. Humour was his talent;and he had a happy turn for an epitaph; we cannotbetter conclude his character as a poet, than in thenervous lines of the Prologue quoted in the Life ofShakespear.

After having shewn Shakespear’s boundless genius,he continues,

Then Johnson came instructed from theschool To please by method, and invent by rule.His studious patience, and laborious art Withregular approach assay’d the heart; Cold approbationgave the ling’ring bays, For they who durstnot censure, scarce could praise.

[Footnote 1: Drummond of Hawthornden’sworks, fol. 224. Edinburgh Edition, 1711.]

[Footnote 2: Birch’s Lives of IllustriousMen.]

[Footnote 3: See Shakespear]

[Footnote 4: See Drummond’s works.]

[Footnote 5: Wood.]

[Footnote 6: The Alchymist, the Fox, and theSilent Woman, have been oftner acted than all therest of Ben Johnson’s plays put together; theyhave ever been generally deemed good stock-plays, andbeen performed to many crowded audiences, in severalseparate seasons, with universal applause. Whythe Silent Woman met not with success, when revivedlast year at Drury Lane Theatre, let the new critics,or the actors of the New Mode, determine.]

* * * * *

Thomas Carew, Esq;

Was descended of a very ancient and reputable familyof the Carews in Devonshire, and was brother to MatthewCarews, a great royalist, in the time of the rebellion;he had his education in Corpus Christi College, buthe appears not to have been matriculated as a member,or that he took a scholastic degree[1]; afterwardsimproving his parts by travelling, and conversationwith ingenious men in the Metropolis, he acquiredsome reputation for his wit and poetry. Aboutthis time being taken notice of at court for his ingenuity,he was made Gentleman of the Privy Chamber, and Sewerin ordinary to King Charles I. who always esteemedhim to the last, one of the most celebrated wits abouthis court[2]. He was much esteemed and respectedby the poets of his time, especially by Ben Johnson.Sir John Suckling, who had a great kindness for him,could not let him pass in his session of poets withoutthis character,

Tom Carew was next, but he had a fault,
That would not well stand with a Laureat;
His muse was hide-bound, and the issueof’s brain
Was seldom brought forth, but with troubleand pain.

The works of our author are,

Poems; first printed in Octavo, and afterwards beingrevised and enlarged, there were several editionsof them made, the third in 1654, and the fourth in1670. The songs in these poems were set to music,or as Wood expresses it, wedded to the charming notesof Mr. Henry Lawes, at that time the greatest musicalcomposer in England, who was Gentleman of the King’sChapel, and one of the private musicians to his Majesty.

Coelum Britannicum; A Mask at Whitehall in the BanquettingHouse, on Shrove Tuesday night February 18, 1633,London 1651. This Masque is commonly attributedto Sir William Davenant. It was performed by theKing, the duke of Lenox, earls of Devonshire, Holland,Newport &c. with several other Lords and Noblemen’sSons; he was assisted in the contrivance by Mr. InigoJones, the famous architect. The Masque beingwritten by the King’s express command, our authorplaced this distich in the front, when printed;

Non habet ingenium: Caesar sed jussit:habebo
Cur me posse negem, posse quod ille putat.

The following may serve as a specimen of the celebratedsonnets of this elegant writer.

Boldness in love.

Mark how the bashful morn in vain
Courts the amorous marigold
With sighing blasts, and weeping rain;
Yet she refuses to unfold.
But when the planet of the day
Approacheth with his powerful ray,
Then she spreads, then she receives
His warmer beams into her virgin leaves.

So shalt thou thrive in love, fond boy;
If thy tears and sighs discover
Thy grief, thou never shalt enjoy
The just reward of a bold lover:
But when with moving accents thou
Shalt constant faith and service vow,
Thy Celia shall receive those charms
With open ears, and with unfolded arms.

Sir William Davenant has given an honourable testimonyin favour of our author, with which I shall concludehis life, after observing that this elegant authordied, much regretted by some of the best wits of histime, in the year 1639.

Sir William Davenant thus addresses him,

Not that thy verses are so smooth andhigh
As glory, love, and wine, from wit canraise;
But now the Devil take such destiny!
What should commend them turns to theirdispraise.
Thy wit’s chief virtue, is becomeits vice;
For every beauty thou hast rais’dso high,
That now coarse faces carry such a price,
As must undo a lover that would buy.

[Footnote 1: Wood’s Athen. Oxon. p.630. vol. i.]

[Footnote 2: Wood’s ubi supra.]

* * * * *

Sir Henry Wotton.

This great man was born in the year 1568, at BoctonHall in the county of Kent, descended of a very ancientfamily, who distinguished themselves in the wars betweenthe Scotch and English before the union of crowns.The father of Sir Henry Wotton, (according to the accountof the learned bishop Walton,) was twice married, andafter the death of his second wife, says the bishop,’his inclination, though naturally averse toall contentions, yet necessitated he was to have severalsuits of law, which took up much of his time; he wasby divers of his friends perswaded to remarriage,to whom he often answered, that if he did put on aresolution to marry, he seriously resolved to avoidthree sorts of persons, namely,

Those that had children,
law suits, were of his kindred:

And yet following his own law suit, he met in WestminsterHall with one Mrs. Morton, the widow of a gentlemanof Kent, who was engaged in several suits in law,and observing her comportment, the time of her hearingone of her causes before the judges, he could not butat the same time compassionate her condition, andso affect her person, that though there were in hera concurrence of all those accidents, against whichhe had so seriously resolved, yet his affection grewso strong, that he then resolved to sollicit her fora wife, and did, and obtained her.’

By this lady he had our author, who received the rudimentsof his education from his mother, who was it seemsa woman of taste, and capable of inspiring him witha love of polite accomplishments. When he becamefit for an academical education, he was placed in NewCollege in Oxford, in the beginning of the year 1584,where living in the condition of a Gentleman Commoner,he contracted an intimacy with Sir Richard Baker,afterwards an eminent historian. Sir Henry didnot long continue there, but removed to Queen’sCollege, where, says Walton, he made a great progressin logic and philosophy, and wrote a Tragedy for theuse of that college, called Tarroredo. Waltontells us, ’that this tragedy was so interwovenwith sentences, and for the exact personating thosepassions and humours he proposed to represent, heso performed, that the gravest of the society declared,that he had in a flight employment, given an earlyand solid testimony of his future abilities.’

On the 8th of June, says Wood, 1588, he as a memberof Queen’s College, supplicated the venerablecongregation of regents, that he might be admittedto the degree of Bachelor of Arts, which desire wasgranted conditionally, that he should determine theLent following, but whether he was admitted, or diddetermine, or took any degree, does not appear inany of the university registers; though Mr. Waltonsays, that about the twentieth year of his age, heproceeded Master of Arts, and at that time read inLatin three lectures de Ocello. During the timehe was at the university, and gaining much upon mankindby the reputation of his abilities, his father, forwhom he had the highest veneration, died, and lefthim a hundred marks a year, to be paid out of oneof his manors of great value. Walton proceedsto relate a very astonishing circ*mstance concerningthe father of our author, which as it is of the visionarysort, the reader may credit, or not, as he pleases;it is however too curious to be here omitted, especiallyas the learned prelate Walton already mentioned hastold it with great earnestness, as if he was persuadedof its reality.

In the year 1553, Nicholas Wotton, dean of Canterbury,uncle to our author’s father, being ambassadorin France in the reign of queen Mary, dreamed, thathis nephew Thomas Wotton, was disposed to be a partyin a very hazardous project, which if not suddenlyprevented, would issue in the loss of his life, andthe ruin of his family; the dean, who was persuadedof the importance of his own dream, was very uneasy;but lest he should be thought superstitious, he resolvedto conceal the circ*mstance, and not to acquaint hisnephew, or any body else with it; but dreaming thesame a second time, he determined to put somethingin execution in consequence of it; he accordingly wroteto the Queen to send for his nephew Thomas Wotton outof Kent, and that the Lords of the Council might examinehim about some imaginary conspiracy, so as to give

colour for his being committed to Jail, declaringthat he would acquaint her Majesty with the true reasonof his request, when he should next be so happy topay his duty to her. The Queen complied withthe dean’s desire, who at that time it seemshad great influence with that bigotted Princess.About this time a marriage was concluded between theQueen of England, and Philip, King of Spain, whichnot a little disobliged some of the nobility, who werejealous left their country by such a match should besubjected to the dominion of Spain, and their independentrights invaded by that imperious monarch. Thesesuspicions produced an insurrection, which was headedby the duke of Suffolk and Sir Thomas Wyat, who bothlost their lives in the attempt to prevent the matchby seizing the Queen; for the design was soon discovered,easily defeated, and those two persons, with manymore, suffered on a scaffold.

Between Sir Thomas Wyat and the Wotton’s family,there had been a long intimacy, and Sir Thomas hadreally won Mr. Wotton over to his interest, and hadhe not been prevented by imprisonment, he afterwardsdeclared that he would have joined his friend in theinsurrection, and in all probability would have fallena sacrifice to the Queen’s resentment, and thevotaries of the Spanish match.

After Sir Henry quitted the university of Oxford,he travelled into France, Germany and Italy, wherehe resided above nine years, and returned to his owncountry perfectly accomplished in all the polite improvements,which men of sense acquire by travelling, and wellacquainted with the temper and genius of the peoplewith whom he had conversed, and the different policyof their governments. He was soon taken noticeof after his return, and became secretary to the famousRobert Devereux, earl of Essex, that unfortunate favourite,whose story is never exhibited on the stage, saysMr. Addison, without affecting the heart in the mostsensible manner. With his lordship he continuedin the character of secretary ’till the earlwas apprehended for his mutinous behaviour towardsthe Queen, and put upon his trial. Wotton, whodid not think it safe to continue in England afterthe fall of his master, retired to Florence, becameacquainted with the Great Duke of Tuscany, and roseso high in his favour, that he was entrusted by himto carry letters to James VI. King of Scots, underthe name of Octavio Baldi, in order to inform thatking of a design against his life. Walton informsus, that though Queen Elizabeth was never willingto declare her successor, yet the King of Scots wasgenerally believed to be the person, on whom the crownof England would devolve. The Queen decliningvery fast, both through age and visible infirmities,“those that were of the Romish persuasion, inpoint of religion, knowing that the death of the Queen,and establishing her succession, was the crisis fordestroying or supporting the Protestant religion inthis nation, did therefore improve all opportunitiesfor preventing a Protestant Prince to succeed her;and as the pope’s excommunication of Queen Elizabethhad both by the judgment and practice of the jesuitedPapists, exposed her to be warrantably destroyed,so about that time, there were many endeavours firstto excommunicate, and then to shorten the life ofKing James VI.”

Immediately after Wotton’s return from Rometo Florence, which was about a year before the deathof Queen Elizabeth; Ferdinand, the Great Duke, hadintercepted certain letters, which discovered a designagainst the life of the King of Scots. The Dukeabhorring the scheme of assassination, and resolvingto prevent it, advised with his secretary Vietta,by what means a caution should be given to the ScotchPrince. Vietta recommended Wotton as a personof the highest abilities of any Englishman then athis court: Mr. Wotton was sent for by his friendVietta to the Duke, who after many professions of trustand friendship, acquainted him with the secret, andsent him to Scotland with letters to the King, andsuch antidotes against poison, as till then, the Scotshad been strangers to. Mr. Wotton having departedfrom the Duke, assumed the name and language of anItalian, which he spoke so fluently, and with so littlemixture of a foreign dialect, that he could scarcelybe distinguished from a native of Italy; and thinkingit best to avoid the line of English intelligenceand danger, posted into Norway, and through that countrytowards Scotland, where he found the King at Stirling.

When he arrived there, he used means by one of thegentlemen of his Majesty’s bed-chamber, to procurea speedy and private audience of his Majesty, declaringthat the business which he was to negotiate was ofsuch consequence, as had excited the Great Duke ofTuscany to enjoin him suddenly to leave his nativecountry of Italy, to impart it to the king.

The King being informed of this, after a little wonder,mixed with jealousy, to hear of an Italian ambassadoror messenger, appointed a private audience that evening.When Mr. Wotton came to the presence chamber, he wasdesired to lay aside his long rapier, and being entered,found the King there; with three or four Scotch lordsstanding distant in several corners of the chamber;at the sight of whom he made a stand, and which theKing observing, bid him be bold, and deliver his message,and he would undertake for the secresy of all whowere present. Upon this he delivered his messageand letters to his Majesty in Italian; which whenthe King had graciously received, after a little pause,Mr. Wotton stept up to the table, and whispered tothe King in his own language that he was an Englishman,requesting a more private conference with his Majesty,and that he might be concealed during his stay inthat nation, which was promised, and really performedby the King, all the time he remained at the Scotchcourt; he then returned to the Duke with a satisfactoryaccount of his employment.

When King James succeeded to the Throne of England,he found among others of Queen Elizabeth’s officers,Sir Edward Wotton, afterwards lord Wotton, Comptrollerof the Houshold, whom he asked one day, ’whetherhe knew one Henry Wotton, who had spent much time inforeign travel?’ Sir Edward replied, that heknew him well, and that he was his brother. TheKing then asked, where he was, and upon Sir Edward’sanswering that he believed he would soon be at Paris,send for him says his Majesty, and when he comes toEngland, bid him repair privately to me. SirEdward, after a little wonder, asked his Majesty,whether he knew him? to which the King answered, youmust rest unsatisfied of that ’till you bringthe gentleman to me. Not many months after thisdiscourse, Sir Edward brought his brother to attendthe king, who took him in his arms, and bid him welcomeunder the mine of Octavio Baldi, saying, that he wasthe most honest, and therefore the best, dissemblerhe ever met with; and seeing I know, added the King,you want neither learning, travel, nor experience,and that I have had so real a testimony of your faithfulnessand abilities to manage an embassage, I have sentfor you to declare my purposes, which is to make useof you in that kind hereafter[1]. But before hedismissed Octavio Baldi from his present attendance,he restored him to his old name of Henry Wotton, byWhich he then knighted him.

Not long after this, King James having resolved accordingto his motto of beati pacifici, to have a friendshipwith his neighbouring kingdoms of France and Spain,and also to enter into an alliance with the Stateof Venice, and for that purpose to send ambassadorsto those several States, offered to Sir Henry hischoice of which ever of these employments best suitedhis inclination; who from the consideration of hisown personal estate being small, and the courts ofFrance and Spain extreamly sumptuous, so as to exposehim to expences above his fortune, made choice ofVenice, a place of more retirement, and where he couldexecute his embassy, and at the same time indulge himselfin the study of natural philosophy, in that seat ofthe sciences, where he was sure to meet with men accomplishedin all the polite improvements, as well as the moresolid attainments of philosophy. Having informedthe king that he chose to be sent to Venice, his Majestysettled a very considerable allowance upon him duringhis stay there; he then took his leave, and was accompaniedthrough France to Venice, says Walton, by gentlemenof the best families and breeding, that this nationafforded.

When Sir Henry Wotton arrived at Venice, there subsistedbetween the Venetians and the Pope a very warm contention,which was prosecuted by both parties with equal fury.The laity made many complaints against the two frequentpractice of land being left to the church withouta licence from the state, which increased the powerof the clergy, already too great, and rendered theirinsolence insupportable. In consequence of this,the state made several injunctions against lay-personsdisposing their lands in that manner. Anothercause of their quarrel was, that the Venetians hadsent to Rome, several articles of complaint againsttwo priests, the abbot of Nervesa, and a canon ofVicenza, for committing such abominable crimes, asMr. Walton says, it would be a shame to mention:Their complaints met with no redress, and the detestablepractices of these monsters in holy orders still continuing,they seized their persons and committed them to prison.

The justice or injustice of such power exercised bythe Venetians, produced debates between the Republicand Pope Clement VIII. Clement soon dying, PopePaul the first, a man of unbounded insolence, andelated with his spiritual superiority, let loose allhis rage against the state. He judged all resistanceto be a diminution of his power, and threatened excommunicationto the whole State, if a revocation was not instantlymade, which the Venetians rejecting, he proceeded inmenaces, and at last did excommunicate the Duke, thewhole Senate, and all their dominions; then he shutup the churches, charging the clergy to forbear sacredoffices to any of the Venetians, till their obedienceshould make them capable of absolution. The contentionwas thus fomented, till a report prevailed that theVenetians were turned Protestants, which was believedby many, as the English embassador was so often inconference with the Senate, and that they had madeall their proceedings known to the King of England,who would support them, should the Pope presume toexercise any more oppressions. This circ*mstancemade it appear plain enough to his Holiness, thathe weakened his power by exceeding it; and being alarmedlest a revolution should happen, offered the Venetiansabsolution upon very easy terms, which the Republicstill slighting, did at last obtain it, by that whichwas scarce so much as a shew of desiring it. Foreight years after Sir Henry Wotton’s going intoItaly, he stood very high in the King’s esteem,but at last, lost his favour for some time, by anaccident too singular to be here omitted.

When he first went embassador to Italy, as he passedthrough Germany he staid some days at Augsburgh, wherehaving been in his former travels well known by manyof the first reputation in learning, and passing anevening in merriment, he was desired by ChristopherHecamore to write a sentence in his Album, and consentingto it, took occasion from some accidental conversationwhich happened in the company, to write a pleasant

definition of an embassador in these words. “Legatusest vir bonus, peregre-missus ad mentiendum Republicaecausa;” which he chose should have been thusrendered into English: An Ambassador is an honestMan, sent to lie abroad for the good of his Country;but the word lie, upon which the conceit turned, wasnot so expressed in Latin, as to admit a double meaning,or so fair a construction as Sir Henry thought, inEnglish. About eight years after, this Albumfell into the hands of Gaspar Scioppius, a restlesszealot, who published books against King James, andupbraided him for entertaining such scandalous principles,as his embassador had expressed by that sentence:This aspersion gained ground, and it became fashionablein Venice to write this definition in several glasswindows. These incidents reaching the ear of KingJames, he was much displeased with the behaviour ofhis embassador on that occasion, and from an innocentpiece of witticism Sir Henry was like to pay verydear, by losing his master’s favour. Uponthis our author wrote two apologies, one to Velserus,which was dispersed in Germany and Italy, and anotherto the King; both which were so well written, thathis Majesty upon reading them declared, “thatSir Henry Wotton had sufficiently commutted for agreater offence.”

Upon this reconciliation, Sir Henry became more infavour with his Majesty than ever; like friends whohave been for some time separated, they meet againwith double fervour, and their friendship increasesto a greater warmth. During the twenty years whichSir Henry was ambassador at Venice, he had the goodfortune to be so well respected by all the Dukes,and the leading men of the Republic, that his interestevery year increased, and they seldom denied him anyfavour he asked for his countrymen who came to Venice;which was, as Walton expresses it, a city of refugefor all Englishmen who were any way distressed inthat Republic. Walton proceeds to relate two particularinstances of the generosity, and tenderness of hisdisposition, and the nobleness of his mind, which,as they serve to illustrate his character, deservea place here.

There had been many Englishmen brought by commandersof their own country, to serve the Venetians for pay,against the Turks; and those English, by irregularities,and imprudence, committed such offences as broughtthem into prisons, and exposed them to work in gallies.Wotton could not be an unconcerned spectator of themiseries of his countrymen: their offences heknew proceeded rather from wantonness, and intemperance,than any real principles of dishonour; and thereforehe thought it not beneath him to become a petitionerfor their releasem*nt. He was happy in a successfulrepresentation of their calamities, they were setat liberty, and had an opportunity of returning totheir own country in comfort, in place of languishingin jails, and being slaves at the Gallies; and by thiscompassionate Interposition with the Republick, hehad the blessings of many miserable wretches:the highest pleasure which any human being can enjoyon this side immortality.

Of the generosity and nobleness of his mind, Waltongives this instance;

Upon Sir Henry Wotton’s coming a second timeto Venice, he was employed as embassador to severalof the German princes, and to the Emperor Ferdinandoii. and this embassy to these princes was toincline them to equitable measures, for the restorationof the Queen of Bohemia, and her descendants, to theirpatrimonial inheritance of the Palatinate. Thiswas by eight months constant endeavours and attendanceupon the Emperor and his court, brought to a probabilityof a successful conclusion, by a treaty; but aboutthat time the Emperor’s army fought a battleso fortunately, as put an end to the expected treaty,and Sir Henry Wotton’s hopes, who when he quittedthe Emperor’s court, humbly advised him, to usehis victory with moderation, which advice the Emperorwas pleased to hear graciously, being well satisfiedwith Wotton’s behaviour during his residenceat his court. He then told him, that tho’the King his master was looked upon as an abetterof his enemy, yet he could not help demonstratinghis regard to him, by making him a present of a richjewel of diamonds, worth more than ten thousand pounds.This was received with all possible respect by SirHenry; but the next morning upon his departing fromVienna, at his taking leave of the Countess of Sabrina,an Italian lady, in whose house he resided, he expressedhis gratitude for her civilities by presenting herwith the jewel given him by the Emperor, which beingafterwards discovered, was by the Emperor taken asan affront; but Sir Henry acknowledging his gratitudefor the mark of distinction shewn to him, at the sametime declared, he did not chuse to receive profitfrom any present, given him by an enemy of his royalmistress, for so the Queen of Bohemia, the eldest daughterof the King of England, permitted him to call her.

Upon Sir Henry Wotton’s return from his embassy,he signified an inclinacion to the King to be excusedfrom any further employment in foreign affairs, toretire from the bustle of life, and spend the eveningof his days in studious ease and tranquility.His Majesty in consequence of this request, promisedhim the reversion of an office, which was the placeof Master of the Rolles, if he out-lived Sir JuliusCaesar, who then possessed it, and was grown so old,that he was said to be kept alive beyond nature’scourse, by the prayers of the many people who dailylived upon his bounty. Here it will not be improperto observe, that Sir Henry Wotton had, thro’a generosity of temper, reduced his affairs to sucha state, that he could not live without some profitableemployment, as he was indebted to many persons formoney he borrowed to support his dignity in his embassy,the King’s appointment for that purpose beingeither not regularly paid, or too inconsiderable forthe expence. This rendered it impossible forhim to wait the death of Sir Julius Caesar; besidesthat place had been long sollicited by that worthygentleman for his son, and it would have been thoughtan ill-natured office, to have by any means preventedit.

It luckily happened at this time, that the Provostshipof his Majesty’s college at Eaton became vacantby the death of Mr. Murray, for which there were manyearnest and powerful sollicitations. This placewas admirably suited to the course of life Wotton resolvedto pursue, for the remaining part of his days; hehad seen enough of the world to be sick of it, andbeing now three-score years of age, he thought a collegewas the fittest place to indulge contemplation, andto rest his body and mind after a long struggle onthe theatre of life. In his suit for this placehe was happily successful, and immediately enteredinto holy orders, which was necessary, before he couldtake possession of his new office. Walton hasrelated the particular manner of his spending histime, which was divided between attendance upon publicdevotion, the more private duties of religion, andthe care which his function demanded from him of theaffairs of the college. In the year 1639 SirHenry died in Eaton-College, and was buried in thechapel belonging to it. He directed the followingsentence to be put upon a marble monument to be erectedover him.

Hic jacit hujus sententiae primus author.Disputandi
pruritus ecclesiarum scabies. Nomenalias
quaere.

Which may be thus rendered into English;

Here lyeth the first author of this sentence.

The itch of disputation will prove thescab of the
church.

Enquire his name elsewhere.

Sir Henry Wotton has been allowed by all critics tobe a man of real and great genius, an upright statesman,a polite courtier, compassionate and benevolent tothose in distress, charitable to the poor, and ina word, an honest man and a pious christian. Asa poet he seems to have no considerable genius.His versification is harmonious, and sometimes hasan air of novelty, his turns are elegant, and histhoughts have both dignity and propriety to recommendthem. There is a little piece amongst his collectionscalled the World, which we shall quote, before wegive an account of his works.

The world’s a bubble: and thelife of man,
Less than a span.
In his conception wretched: fromthe womb,
So to the tomb,
Nurst from his cradle, and brought upto years,
With cares and fears.
Who then to frail mortality shall trust,
But lymns in water, or but writes in dust.
Yet whil’st with sorrow here welive opprest,
What life is best?
Courts are but only superficial schools,
To dandle fools:
The rural part is turned into a den
Of savage men:
And where’s a city from vice sofree,
But may be termed the word of all thethree?
Domestic cares afflict the husband’sbed,
Or pains his head.
Those that live single take it for a curse,
Or do things worse,
These would have children, those thathave them none,
Or wish them gone:

What is it then to have, or have no wife,
But single thraldom, or a double strife?
Our own affections still at home, to please,
Is a disease.
To cross the seas, to any foreign soil
Peril and toil.
Wars with their noise, affright us, whenthey cease.
We’re worse in peace.
What then remains, but that we still shouldcry
For being born, and being born to die.

He is author of the following works;

Epistola de Casparo Scioppio, Amberg. 1638, 8vo.This Scioppius was a man of restless spirit, and hada malicious pen; who in books against King James,took occasion from a sentence written by Sir HenryWotton, in a German’s Album, (mentioned p. 260.)to upbraid him with what principles of religion wereprofessed by him, and his embassador Wotton, thenat Venice, where the said sentence was also writtenin several glass windows, as hath been already observed.

Epist. ad Marc. Velserum Duumvir. AugustaeVindelicae, Ann. 1612.

The Elements of Architecture, Lond. 1624, 4to. intwo parts, re-printed in the Reliquae Wottonianae,Ann. 1651, 1654, and 1672, 8vo. translated into Latin,and printed with the great Vitruvius, and an eulogiumon Wotton put before it. Amster. 1649, folio.

Plausus & Vota ad Regem e scotia reducem. Lond.1633, in a large 4to. or rather in a little folio,reprinted by Dr. John Lamphire, in a book, entitledby him, Monarchia Britannica, Oxon. 1681, 8vo.

Parallel between Robert Earl of Essex, and Georgelate Duke of Buckingham, London 1642, in four sheetsand a half in 4to.

Difference, and Disparity between the Estates, andConditions of George Duke of Buckingham, and RobertEarl of Essex.

Characters of, and Observations on, some Kings ofEngland.

The Election of the New Duke of Venice, after theDeath of Giopvanno Bembo.

Philosophical Survey of Education, or moral Architecture.

Aphorisms of Education.

The great Action between Pompey and Caesar, extractedout of the Roman and Greek writers.

Meditations 22. [Chap. of Gen. Christmas Day]

Letters to, and Characters of certain Personages.

Various Poems.—­All or most of which books,and Treatises are re-printed in a book, entitled,Reliquae Wottonianae already mentioned, Lond. 1651,1654, 1672, and 1685, in 8vo. published by Js.Walton, at the End of Sir Henry Wotton’s life.

Letters to the Lord Zouch.

The State of Christendom: or, a more exact andcurious Discovery of many secret Passages, and hiddenMysteries of the Times, Lond. 1657, folio.

Letters to Sir Edmund Bacon, Lond. 1661, 8vo.There are also several Letters of his extant, whichwere addressed to George Duke of Buckingham, in aBook called Cabala, Mysteries of State, Lond. 1654,4to.

Journal of his Embassies to Venice, Manuscript, writtenin the Library of Edward Lord Conway.

The Propositions to the Count d’Angosciola,relating to Duels.

[Footnote 1: Walton, ubi supra.]

* * * * *

GERVASE MARKHAM.

A gentleman who lived in the reign of Charles I. forwhom he took up arms in the time of the rebellion,being honoured by his Majesty with a captain’scommission.[1] He was the son of Robert Markham, ofCotham in the county of Nottingham, Esq; and was famousfor his numerous volumes of husbandry, and horsemanship;besides what he has wrote on rural recreations andmilitary discipline, he understood both the practiceand theory of war, and was esteemed an excellent linguist,being master of the French, Italian, and Spanish languages,from all which he collected observations on husbandry.One piece of dramatic poetry which he has published,says Mr. Langbaine, will shew, that he sacrificedto Apollo and the Muses, as well as Mars and Pallas.This play is extant under the title of Herod and Antipater,a tragedy, printed 4to, 1622; when or where this playwas acted, Mr. Langbaine cannot determine; for, sayshe, the imperfection of my copy hinders my information;for the foundation, it is built on history: SeeJosephus. Mr. Langbaine then proceeds to enumeratehis other works, which he says, are famous over allEngland; of these he has wrote a discourse of Horsemanship,printed 4to. without date, and dedicated to PrinceHenry, eldest son to King James I. Cure of all Diseasesincident to Horses, 4to. 1610. English Farrier,4to. 1649. Masterpiece, 4to. 1662. FaithfulFarrier, 8vo. 1667. Perfect Horsemanship, 12mo.1671. In Husbandry he published Liebault’sle Maison Rustique, or the Country Farm, folio, Lond.1616. This Treatise, which was at first translatedby Mr. Richard Surfleit, a Physician, our author enlargedwith several additions from the French books of Serrisand Vinet, the Spanish of Albiterio and the Italianof Grilli and others. The Art of Husbandry, firsttranslated from the Latin of Cour. Heresbachiso,by Barnaby Googe, he revived and augmented, 4to. 1631.He wrote besides, Farewell to Husbandry, 4to. 1620.Way to get wealth, wherein is comprised his CountryContentments, printed 4to. 1668. To this is added,Hunger’s Prevention, or the Art of Fowling,8vo. His Epitome, 12mo. &c.—­In MilitaryDiscipline he has published the Soldier’s Accidenceand Grammar, 4to. 1635—­Besides these thesecond book of the first part of the English Arcadiais said to be wrote by him, in so much that he maybe accounted, says Langbaine, “if not Unus inomnibus, at least a benefactor to the public, by thoseworks he left behind him, which without doubt perpetuatehis memory.” Langbaine is lavish in hispraise, and not altogether undeservedly. To havelived a military life, which too often engages itsprofessors in a dissipated course of pleasure, andat the same time, make himself master of such a variety

of knowledge, and yield so much application to study,entitles him to hold some rank in literature.In poetry he has no name, perhaps because he did notapply himself to it; so true is the observation thata great poet is seldom any thing else. Poetryengages all the powers of the mind, and when we considerhow difficult it is to acquire a name in a professionwhich demands so many requisites, it will not appearstrange that the sons of Apollo should seldom be foundto yield sufficient attention to any other excellence,so as to possess it in an equal degree.

[Footnote 1: Langbaine’s Lives, p. 340.]

* * * * *

THOMAS HEYWOOD

Lived in the reign of Queen Elizabeth and King JamesI. He was an actor, as appears from the evidence ofMr. Kirkman, and likewise from a piece written byhim called, The Actor’s Vindication. Langbainecalls his plays second rate performances, but the witsof his time would not permit them to rank so high.He was according to his own confession, one of themost voluminous writers, that ever attempted dramaticpoetry in any language, and none but the celebratedSpaniard Lopez de Vega can vie with him. In hispreface to one of his plays he observes, that thisTragi-comedy is one preserved amongst two hundredand twenty, “in which I have had either an entirehand, or at least a main finger.” Of thisprodigious number, Winstanley, Langbaine, and Jacobagree, that twenty-four only remain; the reason Heywoodhimself gives is this; “That many of them byshifting and change of companies have been negligentlylost; others of them are still retained in the handsof some actors, who think it against their profit tohave them come in print, and a third, that it wasnever any great ambition in me to be voluminouslyread.” These seem to be more plausible reasonsthan Winstanley gives for their miscarriage; “Itis said that he not only acted himself every day,but also wrote each day a sheet; and that he mightlose no time, many of his plays were composed in thetavern, on the backside of tavern bills, which maybe the occasion that so many of them are lost.”That many of our author’s plays might be plann’d,and perhaps partly composed in a tavern is very probable,but that any part of them was wrote on a tavern bill,seems incredible, the tavern bill being seldom broughtupon the table till the guests are going to depart;besides as there is no account of Heywood’s beingpoor, and when his employment is considered, it isalmost impossible he could have been so; there isno necessity to suppose this very strange accountto be true. A poet not long dead was often obligedto study in the fields, and write upon scraps of paper,which he occasionally borrowed; but his case was poverty,and absolute want.[1] Langbaine observes of our author,that he was a general scholar, and a tolerable linguist,as his several translations from Lucian, Erasmus, Texert,

Beza, Buchanan, and other Latin and Italian authorssufficiently manifest. Nay, further, says he,“in several of his plays, he has borrowed manyornaments from the ancients, as more particularly inhis play called the Ages, he has interspersed severalthings borrowed from Homer, Virgil, Ovid, Seneca,Plautus, which extremely set them off.”What opinion the wits of his age had of him, may appearfrom the following verses, extracted from of one ofthe poets of those times.[2]

The squibbing Middleton, and Heywood sage,
Th’ apologetick Atlas of the stage;
Well of the golden age he could entreat,
But little of the metal he could get;
Threescore sweet babes he fashion’dat a lump,
For he was christen’d in Parnassuspump;
The Muses gossip to Aurora’s bed,
And ever since that time, his face wasred.

We have no account how much our author was distinguishedas an actor, and it may be reasonably conjecturedthat he did not shine in that light; if he had, hisbiographers would scarce have omitted so singulara circ*mstance, besides he seems to have addicted himselftoo much to poetry, to study the art of playing, whichthey who are votaries of the muses, or are favouredby them, seldom think worth their while, and is indeedbeneath their genius.

The following is a particular account of our author’splays now extant:

1. Robert Earl of Huntingdon’s downfall,an historical Play, 1601, acted by the Earl of Nottingham’sservants.

2. Robert Earl of Huntingdon’s Death; orRobin Hood of Merry Sherwood, with the tragedy ofchaste Matilda, 1601. The plots of these twoplays, are taken from Stow, Speed, and Baker’schronicles in the reign of King Richard I.

3. The Golden Age, or the Lives of Jupiter andSaturn, an historical play, acted at the Red Bull,by the Queen’s servants, 1611. This playthe author stiles the eldest Brother of three Ages.For the story see Galtruchius’s poetical history,Ross’s Mystagogus Poeticus; Hollyoak, Littleton,and other dictionaries.

4. The Silver Age, 1613; including the Love ofJupiter to Alcmena. The Birth of Hercules, andthe Rape of Proserpine; concluding with the Arraignmentof the Moon. See Plautus. Ovid. Metamorph.Lib. 3.

5. The Brazen Age; an historical play, 1613.This play contains the Death of Centaure Nessus, thetragedy of Meleager, and of Jason and Medea, the Deathof Hercules, Vulcan’s Net, &c. For the storysee Ovid’s Metamorph. Lib. 4—­7—­8—­9.

6. The Iron Age; the first part a history containingthe Rape of Helen, the Siege of Troy, the Combat betweenHector and Ajax. Hector and Troilus slain byAchilles, the Death of Ajax, &c. 1632.

7. Iron Age, the second part; a History containingthe Death of Penthesilea, Paris, Priam, and Hecuba:the burning of Troy, the Deaths of Agamemnon, Menelaus,Clytemnestra, Helena, Orestes, Egistus, Pylades, KingDiomede, Pyrrhus, Cethus, Synon, Thersetus, 1632,which part is addressed to the author’s muchrespected friend Thomas Manwaring, Esq; for the plotof both parts, see Homer, Virgil, Dares Phrygius;for the Episodes, Ovid’s Epistles, Metamorph,Lucian’s Dialogues, &c.

8. A Woman kill’d with Kindness, a comedyacted by the Queen’s Servants with applause,1617.

9. If you know not Me, you know Nobody; or theTroubles of Queen Elizabeth, in Two parts, 1623.The plot taken from Camden, Speed, and other EnglishChronicles in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.

10. The Royal King, and Loyal Subject, a tragi-comedy,1627, taken partly from Fletcher’s Loyal Subject.

The Fair Maid of the West, or a Girl worth Gold, 1631.This play was acted before the King and Queen.Our author in his epistle prefixed to this play, pleadsmodesty in not exposing his plays to the public viewof the world in numerous sheets, and a large volumeunder the title of Works, as others, by which he wouldseem tacitly to arraign some of his cotemporariesfor ostentation, and want of modesty. Langbaineis of opinion, that Heywood in this case levelledthe accusation at Ben Johnson, since no other poet,in those days, gave his plays the pompous title ofWorks, of which Sir John Suckling has taken noticein his session, of the poets.

The first that broke silence, was goodold Ben,
Prepar’d before with Canary wine;
And he told them plainly, that he deservedthe bays,
For his were called works, where otherswere but plays.

There was also a distich directed by some poet ofthat age to Ben Johnson,

Pray tell me, Ben, where does the mysterylurk?
What others call a play, you call a work.

Which was thus answered by a friend of his,

The author’s friend, thus for theauthor says,
Ben’s plays are works, when othersworks are plays.

12. Fair Maid of the West, or a Girl worth Gold,the second part; acted likewise before the King andQueen with success, dedicated to Thomas Hammond, ofGray’s-Inn, Esq;

13. The Dutchess of Suffolk, an historical play1631. For the play see Fox’s Martyrology,p. 521.

14. The English Traveller, a tragi-comedy, actedat the co*ck-pit in Drury-lane, 1633, dedicated toSir Henry Appleton, the plot from Plautus Mostellaria.

15. A Maidenhead well lost, a comedy acted inDrury-lane, 1634.

16. The Four London Apprentices, with the Conquestof Jerusalem; an historical play, acted by the Queen’sservants 1635. It is founded on the history ofGodfrey of Bulloign. See Tasso, Fuller’shistory of the holy war, &c.

17. A Challenge for Beauty; a tragi-comedy, actedby the King’s servants in Black-Fryers, 1636.

18. The Fair Maid of the Exchance; with the MerryHumours of the Cripple of Fen-church, a comedy, 1637.

19. The Wise Woman of Hogsden; a comedy, actedwith applause, 1638.

20. The Rape of Lucrece, a Roman Tragedy, actedat the Red Bull, 1638. Plot from Titus Livius.

21. Love’s Mistress, or the Queen’sMask; presented several times before their Majesties,1640. For the plot see Apuleius’s GoldenAss.

22. Fortune by Land or Sea, a comedy; acted bythe Queen’s servants, 1653. Mr. Rowleyassisted in the composing of this play.

23. The Lancashire Witches, a comedy; acted atthe Globe by the King’s servants. Mr. Bromejoined with Mr. Heywood in writing this comedy.This story is related by the author in his Hierarchyof Angels.

24. Edward iv. an historical play, in twoparts. For the story see Speed, Hollinshed andother chronicles.

This author has published several other works in verseand prose, as his Hierarchy of Angels, above-mentioned;the Life and Troubles of Queen Elizabeth; the GeneralHistory of Women; An Apology for Actors, &c.

[Footnote 1: See the Life of Savage.]

[Footnote 2: Langbaine, p. 258.]

* * * * *

WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT,

A Gentleman eminent for learning. The place ofhis birth, and his father’s name, are differentlyassigned by authors, who have mentioned him.Mr. Loyd says[1], that he was son of Thomas Cartwrightof Burford in Oxfordshire, and born August 16, inthe year 1615; Mr. Wood[2], that he was the son ofWilliam Cartwright, and born at Northway, near Tewksburyin Gloucestershire in September 1611, that his fatherhad dissipated a fair inheritance he knew not how,and as his last refuge turned inn-keeper at Cirencester;when living in competence, he procured his son, ayouth of a promising genius, to be educated underMr. William Topp, master of the free school in thattown. From thence he was removed to Westminsterschool, being chosen a King’s scholar, whencompleating his former learning, under the care ofMr. Lambert Osbaldiston, he was elected a studentin Christ Church in Oxford, in 1628, under the tuitionof Mr. Jerumael Terrent[3], having gone through theclasses of logic and philosophy with unwearied diligence,he took the degrees of Arts, that of Master being compleatedin 1605. Afterwards he entered into holy orders,and gained great reputation, in the university forhis pathetic preaching.

In 1642 he had the place of succentor in the churchof Salisbury, conferred on him by bishop Duppa,[4]and in 1643 was chosen junior proctor of the university;he was also metaphysical reader, and it was generallysaid, that those lectures were never performed betterthan by Mr. Cartwright, and his predecessor Mr. ThomasBarlow of Queen’s College, afterwards lord bishopof Lincoln.[5] This ingenious gentleman died of amalignant fever, called the Camp-disease, which thenreigned in Oxford, and was fatal to many of his contemporaries,in the 33d year of his age, 1643. His death wasvery much lamented by all ranks of men, and the Kingand Queen, then at Oxford, frequently enquired afterhim in the time of his sickness, and expressed greatconcern for his death. Mr. Cartwright was as remarkablefor the endowments of his person as of his mind; his

body (as Langbaine expresses it) “being as handsomeas his soul. He was, says he, an expert linguist,understanding not only Greek and Latin, but Frenchand Italian, as perfectly as his mother tongue; anexcellent orator, and at the same time an admirablepoet, a quality which Cicero with all his pains couldnever attain.” The editor of his works appliesto him the saying of Aristotle concerning AEschronthe poet, “that he could not tell what AEschroncould not do,” and Dr. Fell, bishop of Oxford,said of him, “Cartwright was the utmost a mancan come to.” Ben Johnson likewise so highlyvalued him, that he said, “My son Cartwrightwrites all like a man.” There are extantof this author’s, four plays, besides otherpoems, all which were printed together in 1651, towhich are prefixed above fifty copies of commendatoryverses by the most eminent wits of the university.

Langbaine gives the following account of his plays;

1. Ordinary, a Comedy, when and where acted isuncertain.

2. Lady Errant, a Tragi-Comedy; there is no accountwhen this play was acted, but it was esteemed a goodComedy.

3, Royal Slave, a Tragi-comedy, presented to the Kingand Queen, by the students of Christ Church in Oxford,August 30, 1636; presented since before both theirMajesties at Hampton Court by the King’s servants.As for the noble stile of the play itself, and theready address, and graceful carriage of the students(amongst which Dr. Busby, the famous master of Westminsterschool; proved himself a second Roscius) did exceedall things of that nature they had ever seen.The Queen, in particular, so much admired it, thatin November following, she sent for the habits andscenes to Hampton Court, she being desirous to seeher own servants represent the same play, whose professionit was, that she might the better judge of the severalperformances, and to whom the preference was due:the sentence was universally given by all the spectatorsin favour of the gown, though nothing was wantingon Mr. Cartwright’s side to inform the playersas well as the Scholars, in what belonged to the actionand delivery of each part.[6]

4. Siege, or Love’s Convert, a Tragi-Comedy,when acted is not known, but was dedicated by theauthor to King Charles I. by an epistle in verse.

Amongst his poems, there are several concerning thedramatic poets, and their writings, which must notbe forgot; as these two copies which he wrote on Mr.Thomas Killegrew’s plays, the Prisoner, andClaracilla; two copies on Fletcher, and one in memoryof Ben Johnson, which are so excellent, that the publisherof Mr. Cartwright’s poems speaks of them withrapture in the preface, viz. ’what had Bensaid had he read his own Eternity, in that lastingelegy given him by our author.’ Mr. Woodmentions some other works of Cartwright’s; 1st.Poemata Graeca et Latina. 2d. An Offspring ofMercy issuing out of the Womb of Cruelty; a PassionSermon preached at Christ Church in Oxford, on Actsii. 23. London, 8vo. 1652. 3d. On the SignalDays of the Month of November, in relation to theCrown and Royal Family; a Poem, London 1671, in asheet, 4to. 4th. Poems and Verses, containingAirs for several Voices, set by Mr. Henry Lawes.

From a Comedy of Mr. Cartwright’s called theOrdinary, I shall quote the following CongratulatorySong on a Marriage, which is amorous, and spirited.

I.
While early light springs from the skies,
A fairer from your bride doth rise;
A brighter day doth thence appear,
And make a second morning there.
Her blush doth shed
All o’er the bed
Clear shame-faced beams
That spread in streams,
And purple round the modest air.

II.
I will not tell what shrieks and cries,
What angry pishes, and what fies,
What pretty oaths, then newly born,
The list’ning bridegroom heard theresworn:
While froward she
Most peevishly
Did yielding fight,
To keep o’er night,
What she’d have proffer’dyou e’re morn.

III.
For, we know, maids do refute
To grant what they do come to lose.
Intend a conquest, you that wed;
They would be chastly ravished;
Not any kiss
From Mrs. Pris,
’If that you do
Persuade and woo:
No, pleasure’s by extorting fed.

IV.
O may her arms wax black and blue
Only by hard encircling you:
May she round about you twine
Like the easy twisting vine;
And while you sip
From her full lip
Pleasures as new
As morning dew,
Like those soft tyes, your hearts combine.

[Footnote 1: Memoirs, p. 422.]

[Footnote 2: Atheniae Oxon. p. 274.]

[Footnote 3: ibid. vol. ii. col. 34.]

[Footnote 4: Athen. Oxon. col. 35.]

[Footnote 5: Preface to his Poems in 8vo.London, 1651.]

[Footnote 6: Wood.]

* * * * *

GEORGE SANDYS,

A younger son of Edwin, Archbishop of York, was bornat Bishops Thorp in that county, and as a member ofSt. Mary’s Hall, was matriculated in the universityin the beginning of December 1589; how long he remainedat the university Wood is not able to determine.In the year 1610 he began a long journey, and afterhe had travelled through several parts of Europe,he visited many cities, especially Constantinople,and countries under the Turkish empire, as Greece,Egypt, and the Holy Land[1]. Afterwards he tooka view of the remote parts of Italy, and the Islandsadjoining: Then he went to Rome; the antiquitiesof that place were shewn him by Nicholas Fitzherbert,once an Oxford student, and who had the honour of Mr.Sandys’s acquaintance. Thence our authorwent to Venice, and from that returned to England,where digesting his notes, he published his travels.Sandys, who appears to have been a man of excellentparts, of a pious and generous disposition, did not,like too many travellers, turn his attention uponthe modes of dress, and the fashions of the severalcourts which is but a poor acquisition; but he studied

the genius, the tempers, the religion, and the governingprinciples of the people he visited, as much as histime amongst them would permit. He returned in1612, being improved, says Wood, ’in severalrespects, by this his ’large journey, beingan accomplished gentleman, as being master of severallanguages, of affluent and ready discourse, and excellentcomportment.’ He had also a poetical fancy,and a zealous inclination to all literature, whichmade his company acceptable to the most virtuous men,and scholars of his time. He also wrote a Paraphraseon the Psalms of David, and upon the Hymns dispersedthroughout the Old and New Testament, London, 1636,reprinted there in folio 1638, with other things underthis title.

Paraphrase on the Divine Poems, on Job, Psalms ofDavid, Ecclesiastes, Lamentations of Jeremiah, andSongs collected out of the Old and New Testament.This Paraphrase on David’s Psalms was one ofthe books that Charles I. delighted so much to readin: as he did in Herbert’s Divine Poems,Dr. Hammond’s Works, and Hooker’s EcclesiasticalPolity, while he was a prisoner in the Isle of Wight[2].

Paraphrase on the Divine Poems, viz. on the Psalmsof David, on Ecclesiastes, and on the Song of Solomon,London, 1637. Some, if not all of the Psalmsof David, had vocal compositions set to them by Williamand Henry Lawes, with a thorough bass, for an Organ,in four large books or volumes in 4to. Our authoralso translated into English Ovid’s Metamorphoses,London, 1627. Virgil’s first book of AEneisprinted with the former. Mr. Dryden in his prefaceto some of his translations of Ovid’s Metamorphoses,calls him the best versifier of the last age.

Christ’s Passion, written in Latin by the famousHugo Grotius, and translated by our author, to whichhe also added notes; this subject had been handledhandled before in Greek, by that venerable person,Apollinarius of Laodicea, bishop of Hierapolis, butthis of Grotius, in Sandys’s opinion, transcendsall on this argument; this piece was reprinted withfigures in 8vo. London, 1688. Concerningour author but few incidents are known, he is celebratedby cotemporary and subsequent wits, as a very considerablepoet, and all have agreed to bestow upon him the characterof a pious worthy man. He died in the year 1643,at the house of his nephew Mr. Wiat at Boxley Abbeyin Kent, in the chancel of which parish church heis buried, though without a monument, only as Woodsays with the following, which stands in the commonregister belonging to this church.

Georgius Sandys, Poetarum Anglorum sui saeculi Princeps,sepultus suit Martii 7 deg. stilo Anglico. AnnoPom. 1643. It would be injurious to the memoryof Sandys, to dismiss his life without informing thereader that the worthy author stood high in the opinionof that most accomplished young nobleman the lordviscount Falkland, by whom to be praised, is the highestcompliment that can be paid to merit; his lordship

addresses a copy of verses to Grotius, occasioned byhis Christus Patiens, in which he introduces Mr. Sandys,and says of him, that he had seen as much as Grotiushad read; he bestows upon him like wife the epithetof a fine gentleman, and observes, that though he hadtravelled to foreign countries to read life, and acquireknowledge, yet he was worthy, like another Livy, ofhaving men of eminence from every country come tovisit him. From the quotation here given, itwill be seen that Sandys was a smooth versifier, andDryden in his preface to his translation of Virgil,positively says, that had Mr. Sandys gone before himin the whole translation, he would by no means haveattempted it after him.

In the translation of his Christus Patiens, in thechorus of Act iii.

Jesus speaks.

Daughters of Solyma, no more
My wrongs thus passionately deplore.
These tears for future sorrows keep,
Wives for yourselves, and children weep;
That horrid day will shortly come,
When you shall bless the barren womb,
And breast that never infant fed;
Then shall you with the mountain’shead
Would from this trembling basis slide,
And all in tombs of ruin hide.

In his translation of Ovid, the verses on Fame arethus englished.

And now the work is ended which Jove’srage,
Nor fire, nor sword, shall raise, noreating age.
Come when it will, my death’s uncertainhour,
Which only o’er my body bath a power:
Yet shall my better part transcend thesky,
And my immortal name shall never die:
For wheresoe’er the Roman Eaglesspread
Their conqu’ring wings, I shallof all be read.
And if we Prophets can presages give,
I in my fame eternally shall live.

[Footnote 1: Athen. Oxon. p. 46. vol. ii.]

[Footnote 2: Wood, ubi supra.]

* * * * *

Cary Lucius, Lord Viscount Falkland,

The son of Henry, lord viscount Falkland, was bornat Burford in Oxfordshire, about the year 1610[1].For some years he received his education in Ireland,where his father carried him when he was appointedLord Deputy of that kingdom in 1622; he had his academicallearning in Trinity College in Dublin, and in St. John’sCollege, Cambridge. Clarendon relates, “thatbefore he came to be twenty years of age, he was masterof a noble fortune, which descended to him by thegift of a grandfather, without passing through hisfather or mother, who were both alive; shortly afterthat, and before he was of age, being in his inclinationa great lover of the military life, he went into thelow countries in order to procure a command, and togive himself up to it, but was diverted from it bythe compleat inactivity of that summer.”He returned to England, and applied himself to a severecourse of study; first to polite literature and poetry,in which he made several successful attempts.In a very short time he became perfectly master ofthe Greek tongue; accurately read all the Greek historians,and before he was twenty three years of age, he hadperused all the Greek and Latin Fathers.

About the time of his father’s death, in 1633,he was made one of the Gentlemen of his Majesty’sPrivy Chamber, notwithstanding which he frequentlyretired to Oxford, to enjoy the conversation of learnedand ingenious men. In 1639 he was engaged inan expedition against the Scots, and though he receivedsome disappointment in a command of a troop of horse,of which he had a promise, he went a volunteer withthe earl of Essex[2].

In 1640 he was chosen a Member of the House of Commons,for Newport in the Isle of Wight, in the Parliamentwhich began at Westminster the 13th of April in thesame year, and from the debates, says Clarendon, whichwere managed with all imaginable gravity and sobriety,’he contracted such a reverence for Parliaments,that he thought it absolutely impossible they evercould produce mischief or inconvenience to the nation,or that the kingdom could be tolerably happy in theintermission of them, and from the unhappy, and unseasonabledissolution of the Parliament he harboured some prejudiceto the court.’

In 1641, John, lord Finch, Keeper of the Great Seal,was impeached by lord Falkland, in the name of theHouse of Commons, and his lordship, says Clarendon,’managed that prosecution with great vigour andsharpness, as also against the earl of Strafford, contraryto his natural gentleness of temper, but in both thesecases he was misled by the authority of those whomhe believed understood the laws perfectly, of whichhe himself was utterly ignorant[3].’

He had contracted an aversion towards Archbishop Laud,and some other bishops, which inclined him to concurin the first bill to take away the votes of the bishopsin the House of Lords. The reason of his prejudiceagainst Laud was, the extraordinary passion and impatienceof contradiction discoverable in that proud prelate;who could not command his temper, even at the CouncilTable when his Majesty was present, but seemed tolord it over all the rest, not by the force of argument,but an assumed superiority to which he had no right.This nettled lord Falkland, and made him exert hisspirit to humble and oppose the supercilious churchman.This conduct of his lordship’s, gave Mr. Hampdenoccasion to court him to his party, who was justlyplaced by the brilliance of his powers, at the headof the opposition; but after a longer study of thelaws of the realm, and conversation with the celebratedEdward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, he changed his opinion,and espoused an interest quite opposite to Hampden’s.

After much importunity, he at last accepted the Sealsof his Majesty, and served in that employment withunshaken integrity, being above corruption of anykind.

When he was vested with that high dignity, two partsof his conduct were very remarkable; he could neverpersuade himself that it was lawful to employ spies,or give any countenance or entertainment to such persons,who by a communication of guilt, or dissimulation ofmanners, wind themselves into such trusts and secrets,as enable them to make discoveries; neither couldhe ever suffer himself to open letters, upon a suspicionthat they might contain matters of dangerous consequence,and proper for statesmen to know. As to the firsthe condemned them as void of all honour, and who oughtjustly to be abandoned to infamy, and that no singlepreservation could be worth so general a wound andcorruption of society, as encouraging such peoplewould carry with it. The last, he thought sucha violation of the law of nature, that no qualificationby office could justify him in the trespass, and tho’the necessity of the times made it clear, that thoseadvantages were not to be declined, and were necessaryto be practised, yet he found means to put it offfrom himself[4].

June 15, 1642, he was one of the lords who signedthe declaration, wherein they professed they werefully satisfied his Majesty had no intention to raisewar upon his Parliament. At the same time hesubscribed to levy twenty horse for his Majesty’sservice, upon which he was excepted from the Parliament’sfavour, in the instructions given by the two Housesto their general the Earl of Essex. He attendedthe King to Edgehill fight, where after the enemy wasrouted he was exposed to imminent danger, by endeavouringto save those who had thrown away their arms.He was also with his Majesty at Oxford, and duringhis residence there, the King went one day to see thepublic library, where he was shewed, among other books,a Virgil nobly printed, and exquisitely bound.The Lord Falkland, to divert the King, would havehim make a trial of his fortune by the Sortes Virgilianae,an usual kind of divination in ages past, made by openinga Virgil. Whereupon the King opening the book,the period which happened to come up, was that partof Dido’s imprecation against AEneas, AEneid.lib. 4. v. 615, part of which is thus translated byMr. Dryden,

Oppess’d with numbers in th’unequal field.
His men discouraged and himself expell’d,
Let him for succour sue from place toplace,
Torn from his subjects, and his sons embrace.

His Majesty seemed much concerned at this accident.Lord Falkland who observed it, would likewise tryhis own fortune in the same manner, hoping he mightfall upon some passage that had no relation to hiscase, and thereby divert the king’s thoughtsfrom any impression the other might make upon him;but the place Lord Falkland opened was more suitedto his destiny than the other had been to the King’s,being the following expressions of Evander, on theuntimely death of his son Pallas. AEneid. b.ii. verse 152, &c.

Non haec, O Palla, dederas promissa Parenti,&c.

Thus translated by Mr. Dryden:

O Pallas! thou hast failed thy plightedword,
To fight with caution, not to tempt thesword;
I warn’d thee, but in vain; forwell I knew,
What perils youthful ardour would pursue:
That boiling blood would carry thee toofar;
Young as thou wert to dangers, raw towar!
O curst essay of arms, disastrous doom
Prelude of bloody fields, and fights tocome[5].

Upon the beginning of the civil war, his natural chearfulnessand vivacity was clouded, and a kind of sadness anddejection of spirit stole upon him. After theresolution of the two houses not to admit any treatyof peace, those indispositions which had before touchedhim, grew into a habit of gloominess; and he who hadbeen easy and affable to all men, became on a suddenless communicable, sad, and extremely affected withthe spleen. In his dress, to which he had formerlypaid an attention, beyond what might have been expectedfrom a man of so great abilities, and so much business,he became negligent and slovenly, and in his receptionof suitors, so quick, sharp, and severe, that he waslooked upon as proud and imperious.

When there was any hope of peace, his former spiritused to return and he appeared gay, and vigorous,and exceeding sollicitous to press any thing thatmight promote it; and Clarendon observes, “Thatafter a deep silence, when he was sitting amongsthis friends, he would with a shrill voice, and sadaccent, repeat the words Peace! Peace! and wouldpassionately say, that the agony of the war, the ruinand bloodshed in which he saw the nation involved,took his sleep from him, and would soon break hisheart.”

This extream uneasiness seems to have hurried himon to his destruction; for the morning before thebattle of Newbery, he called for a clean shirt, andbeing asked the reason of it, answered, “Thatif he were slain in the battle, they should not findhis body in foul linen.” Being persuadedby his friends not to go into the fight, as beingno military officer, “He said he was weary ofthe times, foresaw much misery to his country, anddid believe he should be out of it e’re night.”Putting himself therefore into the first rank of theLord Byron’s regiment, he was shot with a musketin the lower part of his belly, on the 20th of September1643, and in the instant falling from his horse, hisbody was not found till next morning.

Thus died in the bed of honour, the incomparable LordFalkland, on whom all his contemporaries bestowedthe most lavish encomiums, and very deservedly raisedaltars of praise to his memory. Among all hispanegyrists, Clarendon is the foremost, and of highestauthority; and in his words therefore, I shall givehis character to the reader. “In this unhappybattle, (says he) was slain the Lord viscount Falkland,a person of such prodigious parts, of learning and

knowledge, of that inimitable sweetness and delightin conversation, and so flowing and obliging a humanityand goodness to mankind, and of that primitive simplicityand integrity of life, that if there were no otherbrand upon this odious and accursed civil war, thanthat single loss, it must be most infamous and execrableto all posterity. He was a great cherisher ofwit and fancy, and good parts in any man; and if hefound them clouded with poverty and want, a most liberaland bountiful patron towards them, even above hisfortune.” His lordship then enumeratesthe unshaken loyalty and great abilities of this younghero, in the warmth of a friend; he shews him in themost engaging light, and of all characters which inthe course of this work we met with, except Sir PhilipSidney’s, lord Falkland’s seems to be themost amiable, and his virtues are confessed by hisenemies of the opposite faction. The noble historian,in his usual masterly manner, thus concludes his panegyricon his deceased friend. “He fell in the34th year of his age, having so much dispatched thetrue business of life, that the eldest rarely attainto that immense knowledge, and the youngest enterinto the world with more innocency: whosoeverleads such a life, needs be less anxious upon howshort warning it is taken from him.”——­Asto his person, he was little, and of no great strength;his hair was blackish, and somewhat flaggy, and hiseyes black and lively. His body was buried inthe church of Great Tew. His works are chieflythese:

First Poems.——­Next, besides thoseSpeeches of his mentioned above,

1. A Speech concerning Uniformity, which we areinformed of by Wood.

2. A Speech of ill Counsellors about the King,1640 [6].

A Draught of a Speech concerning Episcopacy, London,1660, 410.

4. A Discourse of the Infallibility of the Churchof Rome. Oxford 1645, 410. George Holland,a Cambridge scholar, and afterwards a Romish priest,having written an answer to this discourse of theInfallibility, the Lord Falkland made a reply to it,entitled,

5. A View of some Exceptions made against theDiscourse of the Infallibility of the Church of Rome,printed at Oxford, 1646, 410. He assisted Mr.Chillingworth in his book of the Religion of the Protestants,&c. This particular we learn from Bishop Barlowin his Genuine Remains, who says, that when Mr. Chillingworthundertook the defence of Dr. Pottus’s book againstthe Jesuit, he was almost continually at Tew withmy Lord, examining the reasons of both parties proand con; and their invalidity and consequence; whereMr. Chillingworth had the benefit of my Lord’scompany, and of his good library.

We shall present our readers with a specimen of hislordship’s poetry, in a copy of verses addressedto Grotius on his Christus Patiens, a tragedy, translatedby Mr. Sandys. To the author.

Our age’s wonder, by thy birth,the fame,
Of Belgia, by thy banishment, the shame;
Who to more knowledge younger didst arrive
Than forward Glaucias, yet art still alive,
Whose matters oft (for suddenly you grew,
To equal and pass those, and need no new)
To see how soon, how far thy wit couldreach,
Sat down to wonder, when they came toteach.
Oft then would Scaliger contented be
To leave to mend all times, to polishthee.
And of that pains, effect did higher boast,
Than had he gain’d all that hisfathers lost.
When thy Capella read----------------------
That King of critics stood amaz’dto see
A work so like his own set forth by thee.

[Footnote 1: Wood’s Athen. Oxon. vol.i. col. 586.]

[Footnote 2: Clarendon’s History, &c.]

[Footnote 3: Ibid.]

[Footnote 4: Clarendon, ubi supra.]

[Footnote 5: Memoirs, &c. by Welwood, edit 1718.12mo. p. 90—­92.]

[Footnote 6: Historical Collections, p. 11. vol.2. p. 1342.]

* * * * *

Sir JOHN SUCKLING

Lived in the reign of King Charles I. and was sonof Sir John Suckling, comptroller of the housholdto that monarch. He was born at Witham, in thecounty of Middlesex, 1613, with a remarkable circ*mstanceof his mother’s going eleven months with him,which naturalists look upon as portending a hardyand vigorous constitution. A strange circ*mstanceis related of him, in his early years, in a life prefixedto his works. He spoke Latin, says the author,at five years old, and wrote it at nine; if eitherof these circ*mstances is true, it would seem as ifhe had learned Latin from his nurse, nor ever heardany other language, so that it was native to him; butto speak Latin at five, in consequence of study, isalmost impossible.

The polite arts, which our author chiefly admired,were music and poetry; how far he excelled in theformer, cannot be known, nor can we agree with hislife-writer already mentioned, that he excelled inboth. Sir John Suckling seems to have been nopoet, nor to have had even the most distant appearancesof it; his lines are generally so unmusical, thatnone can read them without grating their ears; beingauthor of several plays, he may indeed be called adramatist, and consequently comes within our design;but as he is destitute of poetical conceptions, aswell as the power of numbers, he has no pretensionsto rank among the good poets.

Dryden somewhere calls him a sprightly wit, a courtlywriter. In this sense he is what Mr. Dryden stileshim; but then he is no poet, notwithstanding.His letters, which are published along with his plays,are exceeding courtly, his stile easy and genteel,and his thoughts natural; and in reading his letters,one would wonder that the same man, who could writeso elegantly in prose, should not better succeed inverse.

After Suckling had made himself acquainted with theconstitution of his own country, and taken a surveyof the most remarkable things at home, he travelledto digest and enlarge his notions, from a view ofother countries, where, says the above-mentioned author,he made a collection of their virtues, without anytincture of their vices and follies, only that somewere of opinion he copied the French air too much,which being disagreeable to his father, who was remarkablefor his gravity, and, indeed, inconsistent with, thegloominess of the times, he was reproached for it,and it was imputed to him as the effects of his travels;but some were of opinion, that it was more naturalthan acquired, the easiness of his manner and addressbeing suitable to the openness of his heart, the gaiety,wit and gallantry, which were so conspicuous in him;and he seems to have valued himself upon nothing morethan the character of the Courtier and the Fine Gentleman,which he so far attained, that he is allowed to havehad the peculiar happiness, of making every thinghe did become him. While Suckling was thus assiduousabout acquiring the reputation of a finished courtier,and a man of fashion, it is no wonder that he neglectedthe higher excellencies of genius, for a poet and abeau, never yet were united in one person.

Sir John was not however, so much devoted to the luxuryof the court, as to be wholly a stranger to the field.In his travels he made a campaign under the greatGustavus Adolphus, where he was present at three battlesand five sieges, besides other skirmishes betweenParties; and from such a considerable scene of action,gained as much experience in six months, as otherwisehe would have done in as many years.

After his return to England, the Civil War being thenraging, he raised a troop of horse for the King’sservice, entirely at his own charge, so richly andcompleatly mounted, that it stood him in 1200 l. buthis zeal for his Majesty did not meet with the successit deserved, which very much affected him; and soonafter this he was seized with a fever, and died inthe 28th year of his age. In which short spacehe had done enough to procure him the esteem of thepolitest men who conversed with him; but as he hadset out in the world with all the advantages of birth,person, education, and fortune, peoples expectationsof him were raised to too great a heighth, which seldomfails to issue in a disappointment. He makes nofigure in the history of these times, perhaps fromthe immaturity of his death, which prevented him fromaction. This might be one reason for his beingneglected in the annals of the civil war: anothermight be, his unnecessary, or rather ridiculous shewof finery, which he affected in decorating his troopof horse. This could not fail to draw down contemptupon him, for in time of public distress, nothing canbe more foolish than to wear the livery of prosperity;and surely an army would have no great reason to putmuch confidence in the conduct or courage of thatgeneral; who in the morning of a Battle should befound in his tent perfuming his hair, or arraying himselfin embroidery.

Mr. Lloyd, in his memoirs of our author, observes,that his thoughts were not so loose as his expressions,nor his life so vain as his thoughts; and at the sametime makes an allowance for his youth and sanguinecomplexion; which, says he, a little more time andexperience would have corrected. Of this, wehave instances in his occasional discourses aboutreligion to my Lord Dorset, to whom he was related;and in his thoughts of the posture of affairs; in bothwhich he has discovered that he could think as coolly,and reason as justly as men of more years, and lessfire.

To a Lady that forbad to love before company.

What! no more favours, not a ribbon more,
Not fan, nor muff, to hold as heretofore?
Must all the little blesses then be left,
And what was once love’s gift becomeour theft?
May we not look ourselves into a trance,
Teach our souls parley at our eyes, notglance,
Nor touch the hand, but by soft wringingthere,
Whisper a love that only yes can hear.
Not free a sigh, a sigh that’s therefor you,
Dear must I love you, and not love youtoo?
Be wise, nice fair; for sooner shall theytrace,
The feather’d choristers from placeto place,
By prints they make in th’ air,and sooner say
By what right line, the last star madeits way,
That fled from heaven to earth, than guessto know,
How our loves first did spring, or howthey grow.

The above are as smooth lines as could be found amongour author’s works; but in justice to Suckling,before we give an account of his plays, we shall transcribeone of his letters, when we are persuaded the readerwill join in the opinion already given of his worksin general; it is addressed to his mistress, and hassomething in it gay and sprightly.

This verifies the opinion of Mr. Dryden, that lovemakes a man a rhimster, if not a poet.

My Dear, Dear!

Think I have kissed your letter to nothing,and now know not what to answer; or that now Iam answering, I am kissing you to nothing, and knownot how to go on! For you must pardon, I musthate all I send you here, because it expresses nothingin respect of what it leaves behind with me.And oh! why should I write then? Why shouldI not come myself? Those Tyrants, Business,Honour, and Necessity, what have they to do withwith you, and me? Why Should we not do Love’sCommands before theirs, whose Sovereignty is butusurped upon us? Shall we not smell to Roses,cause others do look on, or gather them becausethere are Prickles, or something that would hinderus?——­Dear——­I fainwould and know no Hindrance——­butwhat must come from you,——­and——­whyshould any come? Since ’tis not I butyou must be sensible how much Time we lose, it beinglong since I was not myself,——­but——­

“Yours.”——­

His dramatic works are,

1. Aglaura, presented at a private House in BlackFryars. Langbaine says, ’that it was muchprized in his Time; and that the last Act is so altered,that it is at the pleasure of the Actors to make ita Tragedy, or Tragi-Comedy.’

2. Brennoralt, or the Discontented Colonel; aTragedy, presented at a private House in Black-Fryarsby his Majesty’s Servants.

3. Sad-one, a Tragedy. This Piece was neverfinished.

4. Goblings, a Tragi-Comedy, presented at a privateHouse in Black-Fryars, by his Majesty’s Servants.

* * * * *

PETER HAUSTED.

This gentleman was born at Oundle in Northamptonshire,and received his education in Queen’s-College,Cambridge. After he had taken his degrees, heentered into holy orders, became curate of Uppinghamin Rutlandshire; and according to Wood in his FastiOxon. was at length made rector of Hadham in Hertfordshire.Upon the breaking out of the civil wars, he was madechaplain to Spencer Earl of Northampton, to whom headhered in all his engagements for the Royal Interest,and was with him in the castle of Banbury in Oxfordshire,when it was vigorously defended against the Parliament’sforces. In that castle Mr. Wood says, he concludedhis last moments in the year 1645, and was buriedwithin the precincts of it, or else in the church belongingto Banbury.

This person, whom both Langbaine and Wood accounta very ingenious man, and an excellent poet, has writtenthe following pieces:

Rival Friends, a Comedy; acted before the King andQueen when their Majesties paid a Visit to the Universityof Cambridge, upon the 19th of March, 1631; whichMr. Langbaine thus characterizes. “It wascried down by Boys, Faction, Envy, and confident Ignorance;approved by the Judicious, and exposed to the Publicby the Author, printed in 4to. Lond. 1632, anddedicated by a copy of Verses, to the Right Honourable,Right Reverend, Right Worshipful, or whatever he be,shall be, or whom he hereafter may call patron.The Play is commended by a copy of Latin Verses, andtwo in English. The Prologue is a Dialogue betweenVenus, Thetis, and Phoebus, sung by two Trebles, anda Base. Venus appearing at a Window above, asrisen, calling to Sol, who lay in Thetis lap, at theEast side of the Stage, canopy’d with an AzureCurtain. Our Author,” continues Langbaine,“seems to be much of the Humour of Ben Johnson,whose greatest Weakness was, that he could not bearCensure, and has so great a Value for Ben’s Writings,that his Scene between Loveall, Mungrel, and HammeshinAct 3. Scene 7, is copied from Ben Johnson’sSilent Woman, between True-wit, Daw, and La-fool,Act 4. Scene 5.”

2. Ten Sermons preached upon several Sundays,and Saints Days, London 1636, 4to. To which isadded an Assize Sermon.

3. Ad Populum, a Lecture to the People, witha Satire against Sedition, Oxon, 1644, in three Sheetsin 4to.

This is a Poem, and the Title of it was given by KingCharles I. who seeing it in Manuscript, with the Titleof a Sermon to the People, he altered it, and causedit to be called a Lecture, being much delighted withit.

This Author also translated into English, Hymnus,Tobaci, &c. Lond. 1651, 8vo.

* * * * *

William Drummond of Hawthornden Esq;

This gentleman was a native of Scotland, and a poetof no inconsiderable rank. We had at first somedoubt whether he fell within our design, as beingno Englishman, but upon observing that Mr. Langbainehas given a place to the earl of Stirling, a man ofmuch inferior note; and that our author, though aScotchman, wrote extremely pure and elegant English,and his life, that is fruitful of a great many incidents,without further apology, it is here presented to thereader.

He was born the 13th of November, 1585; his fatherwas Sir John Drummond of Hawthornden, who was GentlemanUsher to King James VI. but did not enjoy that placelong, being in three months after he was raised tohis new dignity, taken away by death[1]. The familyof Drummond in the article of antiquity is inferiorto none in Scotland, where that kind of distinctionis very much regarded.

The first years of our author’s youth were spentat the high school at Edinburgh, where the early promisesof that extraordinary genius, which afterwards appearedin him, became very conspicuous. He was in duetime sent to the university of Edinburgh, where afterthe ordinary stay, he was made Master of Arts.When his course at the university was finished, hedid not, like the greatest part of giddy students,give over reading, and vainly imagine they have a sufficientstock of learning: he had too much sense thusto deceive himself; he knew that an education at theuniversity is but the ground-work of knowledge, andthat unless a man digests what he has there learned,and endeavours to produce it into life with advantage,so many years attendance were but entirely thrownaway. Being convinced of this truth, he continuedto read the best authors of antiquity, whom he notonly retained in his memory, but so digested, thathe became quite master of them, and able to make suchobservations on their genius and writings, as fullyshewed that his judgment had been sufficiently exercisedin reading them.

In the year 1606 his father sent him into France,he being then only twenty-one years old. He studiedat Bourges the civil law, with great diligence andapplause, and was master not only of the dictates ofthe professors, but made also his own observationson them, which occasioned the learned president Lockhartto observe, that if Mr. Drummond had followed thepractice, he might have made the best figure of anylawyer in his time; but like all other men of wit,he saw more charms in Euripides, Sophocles, Seneca,and other the illustrious ancients, than in the drywranglings of the law; as there have been often instancesof poets, and men of genius being educated to the law,so here it may not be amiss to observe, that we remembernot to have met with one amongst them who continued

in that profession, a circ*mstance not much in itsfavour, and is a kind of proof, that the professorsof it are generally composed of men who are capableof application, but without genius. Mr. Drummondhaving, as we have already observed, a sovereign contemptfor the law, applied himself to the sublimer studiesof poetry and history, in both which he became veryeminent. Having relinquished all thoughts of thebar, or appearing in public, he retired to his pleasantseat at Hawthornden, and there, by reading the Greekand Latin authors, enriched the world with the productof his solitary hours. After he had recovereda very dangerous fit of sickness, he wrote his CypressGrove, a piece of excellent prose, both for the finenessof the stile, and the sublimity and piety of the sentiments:In which he represents the vanity and instabilityof human affairs; teaches a due contempt of the world;proposes consolations against the fear of death, andgives us a view of eternal happiness. Much aboutthis time he wrote the Flowers of Sion in verse.Though the numbers in which these poems are wrote arenot now very fashionable, yet the harmony is excellent,and during the reign of King James and Charles I.we have met with no poet who seems to have had a betterear, or felt more intimately the passion he describes.The writer of his life already mentioned, observes,that notwithstanding his close retirement, love stoleupon him, and entirely subdued his heart. Heneeded not to have assigned retirement as a reasonwhy it should seem strange that love grew upon him,for retirement in its own nature is the very parentof love. When a man converses with but few ladies,he is apt to fall in love with her who charms himmost; whereas were his attention dissipated, and hisaffections bewildered by variety, he would be preservedfrom love by not being able to fix them; which isone reason why we always find people in the countryhave more enthusiastic notions of love, than thosewho move in the hurry of life. This beautifulyoung lady, with whom Mr. Drummond was enamoured,was daughter of Mr. Cunningham of Barnes, of an ancientand honourable family. He made his addresses toher in the true spirit of gallantry, and as he wasa gentleman who had seen the world, and consequentlywas accomplished in the elegancies of life, he wasnot long in exciting proper returns of passion; hegained her affections, and when the day of the marriagewas appointed, and all things ready for its solemnization,she was seized with a fever, and snatched from him,when his imagination had figured those scenes of rapturewhich naturally fill the mind of a bridegroom.As our author was a poet, he no doubt was capableof forming still a greater ideal fealt, than a manof ordinary genius, and as his mistress was, as Roweexpresses it, ‘more than painting can express,’or ’youthful poets fancy when they love,’those who have felt that delicate passion, may beable in some measure to judge of the severity of distressinto which our poetical bridegroom was now plunged:After the fervours of sorrow had in some measure subsided,he expressed his grief for her in several lettersand poems, and with more passion and sincerity celebratedhis dead mistress, than others praise their livingones. This extraordinary shock occasioned by theyoung lady’s death, on whom he doated with suchexcessive fondness, so affected his spirits, thatin order as much as possible to endeavour to forgether, he quitted his retirement, and resided eightyears at Paris and Rome; he travelled through Germany,France and Italy, where he visited all the famousuniversities, conversed with the learned men, and madean excellent collection of the best ancient Greek,and of the modern Spanish, French, and Italian books.Mr. Drummond, though a scholar and a man of genius,did not think it beneath him to improve himself inthose gay accomplishments which are so peculiar tothe French, and which never fail to set off wit andparts to the best advantage. He studied music,and is reported to have possessed the genteel accomplishmentof dancing, to no inconsiderable degree.

After a long stay of eight years abroad, he returnedagain to his native country, where a civil war wasready to break out. He then found that as hecould be of no service by his action, he might atleast by his retirement, and during the confusion,he went to the feat of his Brother-in-law, Sir JohnScott, of Scotts Tarvat, a man of learning and goodsense. In this interval it is supposed he wrotehis History of the Five James’s, successivelyKings of Scotland, which is so excellent a work, whetherwe consider the exact conduct of the story, the judiciousreflections, and the fine language, that no Historianeither of the English or Scotch nation (the lord Clarendonexcepted) has shewn a happier talent for that speciesof writing, which tho’ it does not demand thehighest genius, yet is as difficult to attain, asany other kind of literary excellence. This workwas received in England with as much applause, asif it had been written by a countryman of their own,and about English affairs. It was first publishedsix or seven years after the author’s death,with a preface, or introduction by Mr. Hall of Grays-Inn,who, tho’ not much disposed to think favourablyof the Scotch nation, has yet thus done justice toMr. Drummond; for his manner of writing, says he, “thoughhe treats of things that are rather many than great,and rather troublesome than glorious; yet he has broughtso much of the main together, as it may be modestlysaid, none of that nation has done before him, andfor his way of handling it, he has sufficiently madeit appear, how conversant he was with the writingsof venerable antiquity, and how generously he hasemulated them by a happy imitation, for the purityof that language is much above the dialect he wrotein; his descriptions lively and full, his narrationsclear and pertinent, his orations eloquent, and fit

for the persons who speak, and his reflections solidand mature, so that it cannot be expected that theseleaves can be turned over without as much pleasureas profit, especially meeting with so many glories,and trophies of our ancestors.” In thishistory Mr. Drummond has chiefly followed bishop Elphiston,and has given a different turn to things from Buchanan,whom a party of the Scotch accuse of being a pensionerof Queen Elizabeth’s, and as he joined interestwith the earl of Murray, who wanted to disturb thereign of his much injured sister Mary Queen of Scots,he is strongly suspected of being a party writer,and of having misrepresented the Scotch transactionsof old, in order to serve some scheme of policy.

In the short notes which Mr. Drummond has left behindhim in his own life, he says, that he was the firstin the island that ever celebrated a dead mistress;his poems consist chiefly of Love-Verses, Madrigals,Epigrams, Epitaphs, &c. they were highly esteemed byhis contemporaries both for the wit and learning thatshone in them. Edward Philips, Milton’snephew, writes a preface to them, and observes, ’thathis poems are the effects of genius, the most politeand verdant that ever the Scots nation produced, andsays, that if he should affirm, that neither Tasso,Guarini, or any of the most neat and refined spiritsof Italy, nor even the choicest of our English poetscan challenge any advantage above him, it could notbe judged any attribute superior to what he deserves;and for his history he says, had there been nothingelse extant of his writings, consider but the languagehow florid and ornate it is; consider the order andprudent conduct of the story, and you will rank himin the number of the best writers, and compare himeven with Thuanus himself: Neither is he lesshappy in his verse than prose, for here are all thosegraces met together, that conduce any thing towardsthe making up a compleat and perfect poet, a decentand becoming majesty, a brave and admirable heighth,and a wit flowing.’ Thus far the testimonyof Mr. Philips.

In order to divert himself and his friends, he wrotea small poem which he called Polemio-Middinia; ’tisa sort of Macronic poetry, in which the Scots wordsare put in Latin terminations. In Queen Anne’stime it was reprinted at Oxford, with a preface concerningMacronic poetry. It has been often reprintedin Scotland, where it is thought a very humorous performance.

Our author, who we have already seen, suffered somuch by the immature fate of his first mistress, thoughtno more of love for many years after her decease,but seeing by accident one Elizabeth Logan, grandchildto Sir Robert Logan, who by the great resemblance shebore to his first favourite, rekindled again the flameof love; she was beautiful in his eyes because sherecalled to his mind the dear image of her he mourned,and by this lucky similarity she captivated him.Though he was near 45 years of age, he married thislady; she bore to him several children; William, whowas knighted in Charles II’s time; Robert, andElizabeth, who was married to one Dr. Henderson, aphysician, at Edinburgh.

In the time of the public troubles, Mr. Drummond,besides composing his history, wrote several tractsagainst the measures of the covenanters, and thoseengaged in the opposition of Charles I. In a pieceof his called Irene, he harangues the King, nobility,gentry, clergy and commons, about their mutual mistakes,jealousies and fears; he lays before them the dismalconsequences of a civil war, from indisputable arguments,and the histories of past times. The great marquisof Montrose writ a letter to him, desiring him to printthis Irene, as the best means to quiet the minds ofthe distracted people; he likewise sent him a protection,dated August, 1645, immediately after the battle ofKylsyth, with another letter, in which he highly commendsMr. Drummond’s learning and loyalty. Besidesthis work of Irene, he wrote the Load Star, and anAddress to the Noblemen, Barons, Gentlemen, &c. wholeagued themselves for the defence of the libertiesand religion of Scotland, the whole purport of whichis, to calm the disturbed minds of the populace, toreason the better sort into loyalty, and to checkthe growing evils which he saw would be the consequenceof their behaviour. Those of his own countrymen,for whom he had the greatest esteem, were Sir WilliamAlexander, afterwards earl of Stirling, Sir RobertCarr, afterwards earl of Ancram, from whom the presentmarquis of Lothian is descended, Dr. Arthur Johnston,physician to King Charles I. and author of a LatinParaphrase of the Psalms, and Mr. John Adamson, principalof the college of Edinburgh. He had great intimacyand correspondence with the two famous English poets,Michael Drayton, and Ben Johnson, the latter of whomtravelled from London on foot, to see him at his seatat Hawthornden. During the time Ben remainedwith Mr. Drummond, they often held conversation aboutpoetry and poets, and Mr. Drummond has preserved theheads of what passed between them; and as part ofit is very curious, and serves to illustrate the characterof Johnson, we have inserted it in his life:though it perhaps was not altogether fair in Mr. Drummond,to commit to writing things that passed over a bottle,and which perhaps were heedlesly advanced. Itis certain some of the particulars which Mr. Drummondhas preferred, are not much in Ben’s favour,and as few people are so wise as not to speak imprudentlysometimes, so it is not the part of a man, who invitesanother to his table, to expose-what may there dropinadvertently; but as Mr. Drummond had only made memorandums,perhaps with no resolution to publish them, he maystand acquitted of part of this charge. It isreported of our author that he was very smart, andwitty in his repartees, and had a most excellent talentat extempore versifying, above any poet of his time.In the year 1645, when the plague was raging in Scotland,our author came accidentally to Forfar, but was notallowed to enter any house, or to get lodging in thetown, though it was very late; he went two miles further

to Kirrimuir, where he was well received, and kindlyentertained. Being informed that the towns ofForfar and Kirrimuir had a contest about a piece ofground called the Muirmoss, he wrote a letter to theProvost of Forfar, to be communicated to the town-councilin haste: It was imagined this letter came fromthe Estates, who were then sitting at St. Andrew’s;so the Common-Council was called with all expedition,and, the minister sent for to pray for direction andassistance in answering the letter, which was openedin a solemn manner. It contained the followinglines,

The Kirrimorians and Forforians met atMuirmoss, The Kirrimorians beat the Forforians backto the cross, [2]Sutors ye are, and sutors ye’llbe T——­y upon Forfar, Kirrimuirbears the gree.

By this innocent piece of mirth he revenged himselfon the town of Forfar. As our author was a greatcavalier, and addicted to the King’s party,he was forced by the reformers to send men to the armywhich fought against the King, and his estate lyingin three different counties; he had not occasion tosend one entire man, but halves, and quarters, andsuch like fractions, that is, the money levied uponhim as his share, did not amount to the maintainingone man, but perhaps half as much, and so on throughthe several counties, where his estates lay; uponthis he wrote the following verses to the King.

Of all these forces, rais’d againstthe King, ’Tis my strange hap not one wholeman to bring, From diverse parishes, yet diversem*n, But all in halves, and quarters: greatking then, In halves, and quarters, if they come,’gainst thee, In halves and quarters sendthem back to me.

Being reputed a malignant, he was extremely harrassedby the prevailing party, and for his verses and discoursesfrequently summoned before their circular tables.In the short account of his life written by himself,he says, ’that he never endeavoured to advancehis fortune, or increase such things as were left himby his parents, as he foresaw the uncertainty andshortness of life, and thought this world’sadvantages not worth struggling for.’ Theyear 1649, remarkable for the beheading of CharlesI. put likewise a period to the life of our author:Upon hearing the dismal news that his Sovereign’sblood was shed on a scaffold, he was so overwhelmedwith grief, and being worn down with study, he couldnot overcome the shock, and though we find not thathe ever was in arms for the King, yet he may be said,in some sense, to have fallen a sacrifice to his loyalty.He was a man of fine natural endowments, which werecultivated by reading and travelling; he spoke theItalian, Spanish, and French languages as well ashis mother tongue; he was a judicious and great historian,a delicate poet, a master of polite erudition, a loyalsubject, a friend to his country, and to sum up all,a pious christian.

Before his works are prefixed several copies of versesin his praise, with which we shall not trouble thereader, but conclude the life of this great man, withthe following sonnet from his works, as a specimenof the delicacy of his muse.

I know, that all beneath the moon decays,
And what by mortals in this world is brought,
In times great period shall return tonought;
That fairest states have fatal nightsand days;
I know that all the Muses heavenly lays,
With toil of spirit, which are so dearlybought.
As idle sounds, of few or none are sought,
That there is nothing lighter than vainpraise.
I know frail beauty like the purple flower,
To which one morn, oft birth, and deathaffords,
That love a jarring is, of minds accords,
Where sense, and will, bring under reason’s
power:
Know what I lift, all this cannot me move,
But, that alas, I both must write andlove.

[Footnote 1: The reader will please to observe,that I have taken the most material part, of thisaccount of Mr. Drummond, from a life of him prefixedto a 4to Edition printed at Edinburgh, 1711.]

[Footnote 2: Shoemakers.]

* * * * *

William Alexander, Earl of Stirling.

It is agreed by the antiquaries of Scotland, wherethis nobleman was born, that his family was originallya branch of the Macdonalds. Alexander Macdonald,their ancestor, obtained from the family of Argylea grant of the lands of Menstry, in Clackmananshire,where they fixed their residence, and took their sirnamesfrom the Christian name of their predecessor[1].Our author was born in the reign of Queen Elizabeth,and during the minority of James VI. of Scotland, buton what year cannot be ascertained; he gave earlydiscoveries of a rising genius, and much improvedthe fine parts he had from nature, by a very politeand extensive education. He first travelled abroadas tutor to the earl of Argyle, and was a considerabletime with that nobleman, while they visited foreigncountries. After his return, being happy in sogreat a patron as the earl of Argyle, and finishedin all the courtly accomplishments, he was caressedby persons of the first fashion, while he yet movedin the sphere of a private gentleman.

Mr. Alexander having a strong propensity to poetry,he declined entering upon any public employment forsome years, and dedicated all his time to the readingof the ancient poets, upon which he formed his taste,and whose various graces he seems to have understood.King James of Scotland, who with but few regal qualities,yet certainly had a propension to literature, andwas an encourager of learned men, took Mr. Alexanderearly into his favour. He accepted the poems ourauthor presented him, with the most condescendingmarks of esteem, and was so warm in his interest,that in the year 1614, he created him a knight, andby a kind of compulsion, obliged him to accept theplace of Master of the Requests[2]; but the King’sbounty did not stop here: Our author having settleda colony in Nova Scotia in America, at his own expence,James made him a grant of it, by his Royal Deed, onthe 21st of September, 1621, and intended to haveerected the order of Baronet, for encouraging andadvancing so good a work; but the three last yearsof that prince’s reign being rendered troublesometo him, by reason of the jealousies and commotionswhich then subsisted in England, he thought fit tosuspend the further prosecution of that affair, ’tilla more favourable crisis, which he lived not to see.

As soon as King Charles I. ascended the throne, whoinherited from his father the warmest affection forhis native country, he endeavoured to promote thatdesign, which was likely to produce so great a benefitto the nation, and therefore created Sir William AlexanderLord Lieutenant of New Scotland, and instituted theorder of Knight Baronet, for the encouraging, andadvancing that colony, and gave him the power of coiningsmall copper money, a privilege which some discontentedBritish subjects complained of with great bitterness;but his Majesty, who had the highest opinion of theintegrity and abilities of Sir William, did not onthat account withdraw his favour from him, but ratherencreased it; for in the year 1626 he made him Secretaryof State for Scotch affairs, in place of the earl ofHaddington, and a Peer, by the title of Viscount Stirling,and soon after raised him to the dignity of an Earl,by Letters Patent, dated June 14, 1633, upon the solemnityof his Majesty’s Coronation at the Palace ofHoly-rood-house in Edinburgh. His lordship enjoyedthe place of secretary with the most unblemished reputation,for the space of fifteen years, even to his death,which happened on the 12th of February, 1640.

Our author married the daughter of Sir William Erskine,Baronet, cousin german to the earl of Marr, then Regentof Scotland; by her he had one son, who died his Majesty’sResident in Nova Scotia in the life time of his father,and left behind him a son who succeeded his grandfatherin the title of earl of Stirling.

His lordship is author of four plays, which he stilesMonarchic Tragedies, viz. The AlexandraeanTragedy, Craesus, Darius, and Julius Caesar, all whichin the opinion of the ingenious Mr. Coxeter (whoseindefatigable industry in collecting materials forthis work, which he lived not to publish, has furnishedthe present Biographers with many circ*mstances theycould not otherwise have known) were written in hislordship’s youth, and before he undertook anystate employment.

These plays are written upon the model of the ancients,as appears by his introducing the Chorus between theActs; they are grave and sententious throughout, likethe Tragedies of Seneca, and yet the softer and tenderpassions are sometimes very delicately touched.The author has been very unhappy in the choice ofhis verse, which is alternate, like the quatrainsof the French poet Pibrach, or Sir William Davenant’sheroic poem called Gondibert, which kind of verseis certainly unnatural for Tragedy, as it is so muchremoved from prose, and cannot have that beautifulsimplicity, that tender pathos, which is indispensableto the language of tragedy; Mr. Rymer has criticisedwith great judgment on this error of our author, andshewn the extreme absurdity of writing plays in rhime,notwithstanding the great authority of Dryden canbe urged in its defence.

Writing plays upon the model of the ancients, by introducingchoruses, can be defended with as little force.It is the nature of a tragedy to warm the heart, rouzethe passions, and fire the imagination, which cannever be done, while the story goes languidly on.The soul cannot be agitated unless the business ofthe play rises gradually, the scene be kept busy,and leading characters active: we cannot betterillustrate this observation, than by an example.

One of the best poets of the present age, the ingeniousMr. Mason of Cambridge, has not long ago publisheda Tragedy upon the model of the ancients, called Elfrida;the merit of this piece, as a poem has been confessedby the general reading it has obtained; it is fullof beauties; the language is perfectly poetical, thesentiments chaste, and the moral excellent; thereis nothing in our tongue can much exceed it in theflowry enchantments of poetry, or the delicate flowof numbers, but while we admire the poet, we pay noregard to the character; no passion is excited, theheart is never moved, nor is the reader’s curiosityever raised to know the event. Want of passionand regard to character, is the error of our presentdramatic poets, and it is a true observation madeby a gentleman in an occasional prologue, speakingof the wits from Charles ii. to our own times,he says,

From bard, to bard, the frigid cautioncrept,
And declamation roared while passion slept.

But to return to our author’s plays;

The Alexandraean Tragedy is built upon the differencesabout the succession, that rose between Alexander’scaptains after his decease; he has borrowed many thoughts,and translated whole speeches from Seneca, Virgil,&c. In this play his lordship seems to mistakethe very essence of the drama, which consists in action,for there is scarce one action performed in view ofthe audience, but several persons are introduced uponthe stage, who relate atchievements done by themselvesand others: the two first acts are entirely foreignto the business of the play. Upon the whole itmust be allowed that his lordship was a very goodhistorian, for the reader may learn from it a greatdeal of the affairs of Greece and Rome; for the plotsee Quintus Curtius, the thirteenth Book of Justin,Diodorus Siculus, Jofephus, Raleigh’s History,&c. The Scene is in Babylon.

Craesus, a Tragedy; the Scene of this Play is laidin Sardis, and is reckoned the most moving of thefour; it is chiefly borrowed from Herodotus, Clio,Justin, Plutarch’s Life of Solon, Salian, Torniel.In the fifth Act there is an Episode of Abradatesand Panthaea, which the author has taken from Xenophon’sCyropaedeia, or The Life and Education of Cyrus, lib.vii. The ingenious Scudery has likewise builtupon this foundation, in his diverting Romance calledthe Grand Cyrus.

Darius, a Tragedy; this was his lordship’s firstdramatic performance; it was printed at Edinburghin 4to. in the year 1603; it was first composed ofa mixture of English and Scotch dialect, and even thenwas commended by several copies of verses. TheScene of this Play is laid in Babylon. The authorafterwards not only polished his native language,but altered the Play itself; as to the plot consultQ. Curtius, Diodorus Siculus, Justin, Plutarch’sLife of Alexander, &c. Julius Caesar, a Tragedy.In the fifth Act of this Play, my lord brings Brutus,

Cassius, Cicero, Anthony, &c. together, after the deathof Caesar, almost in the same circ*mstances Shakespearhas done in his Play of this name; but the differencebetween the Anthony and Brutus of Shakespear, andthese characters drawn by the earl of Stirling, isas great, as the genius of the former transcended thelatter. This is the most regular of his lordship’splays in the unity of action. The story of thisPlay is to be found in all the Roman Histories writtensince the death of that Emperor.

His lordship has acknowledged the stile of his dramaticworks not to be pure, for which in excuse he has pleadedhis country, the Scotch dialect then being in a veryimperfect state. Having mentioned the Scotchdialect, it will not be improper to observe, that itis at this time much in the same degree of perfection,that the English language was, in the reigns of HenryVIII. and Queen Elizabeth; there are idioms peculiarto the Scotch, which some of their best writers havenot been able entirely to forget, and unless they residein England for some time, they seldom overcome them,and their language is greatly obscured by these means;but the reputation which some Scotch writers at presentenjoy, make it sufficiently clear, that they are notmuch wanting in perspicuity or elegance, of which Mr.Hume, the ingenious author of Essays Moral and Political,is an instance. In the particular quality offire, which is indispensible in a good writer, theScotch authors have rather too much of it, and aremore apt to be extravagantly animated, than correctlydull.

Besides these Plays, our author wrote several otherPoems of a different kind, viz. Doomsday,or the Great Day of the Lord’s Judgment, firstprinted 1614, and a Poem divided into 12 Book, whichthe author calls Hours; In this Poem is the followingemphatic line, when speaking of the divine vengeancefalling upon the wicked; he calls it

A weight of wrath, more than ten worldscould
bear.

A very ingenious gentleman of Oxford, in a conversationwith the author of this Life, took occasion to mentionthe above line as the best he had ever read consistingof monysyllables, and is indeed one of the most affectinglines to be met with in any poet. This Poem,says Mr. Coxeter, ’in his Ms. notes, wasreprinted in 1720, by A. Johnston, who in his prefacesays, that he had the honour of transmitting the author’sworks to the great Mr. Addison, for the perusal ofthem, and he was pleased to signify his approbationin these candid terms. That he had read them withthe greatest satisfaction, and was pleased to giveit as his judgment, that the beauties of our ancientEnglish poets are too slightly passed over by themodern writers, who, out of a peculiar singularity,had rather take pains to find fault, than endeavourto excel.’

A Paraenaesis to Prince Henry, who dying before itwas published, it was afterwards dedicated to KingCharles I.[3]

Jonathan; intended to be an Heroic Poem, but the firstBook of it is only extant. He wrote all thesePoems in the Ottavo Rima of Tasso, or a Stanza ofeight lines, six interwoven, and a Couplet in Base.His Plays and Poems were all printed together in folio,under the title of Recreations with the Muses, 1637,and dedicated to the King.

The earl of Stirling lived in friendship with themost eminent wits of his time, except Ben Johnson,who complained that he was neglected by him; but thereare no particulars preserved concerning any quarrelbetween them.

My lord seems to have often a peculiar inclinationto punning, but this was the characteristic vice ofthe times. That he could sometimes write in avery elegant strain will appear by the following lines,in which he describes love.

Love is a joy, which upon pain depends;
A drop of sweet, drowned in a sea of sours:
What folly does begin, that fury ends;
They hate for ever, who have lov’dfor hours.

[Footnote 1: Crawford’s Peerage of Scotland.]

[Footnote 2: Crawford, ubi supra.]

[Footnote 3: Langbaire.]

* * * * *

Joseph hall, Bishop of Norwich.

This prelate was born, according to his own account,July 11, 1574, in Bristow-Park, within the parishof Ashby de la Zouch, a town in Leicestershire.[1]His father was an officer under Henry Earl of Huntingdon,president of the North, who from his infancy had devotedhim to the service of the church; and his mother, whomhe has celebrated for her exemplary and distinguishedpiety, was extremely sollicitous that her favouriteson would be of a profession, she herself held somuch in veneration. Our author, who seems to havebeen very credulous in his disposition, rather religiousthan wise, or possessing any attainments equal tothe dignity to which he rose, has preserved in hisSpecialities, some visions of his mother’s, whichhe relates with an air of seriousness, sufficientto evidence his own conviction of their reality; butas they appear to have been the offspring of a disorderedimagination, they have no right to a place here.

In order to train him up to the ministry, his fatherat first resolved to place him under the care of oneMr. Pelset, lately come from Cambridge to be the publicpreacher at Leicester, who undertook to give him aneducation equally finished with that of the university,and by these means save much expence to his father:This resolution, however, was not executed, some otherfriends advising his father to send him to Cambridge,and persuaded him that no private tuition could possiblybe equal to that of the academical. When our authorhad remained six years at Cambridge, he had a rightto preferment, and to stand for a fellowship, hadnot his tutor Mr. Gilby been born in the same countywith him, and the statutes not permitting two of the

same shire to enjoy fellowships, and as Mr. Gilbywas senior to our author, and already in possession,Mr. Hall could not be promoted. In consequenceof this, he proposed to remove, when the Earl of Huntingdon,being made acquainted with this circ*mstance, and hearingvery favourable accounts of our author, interestedhimself to prevent his removal. He made applicationto Mr. Gilby, promised to make him his chaplain, andpromote him in the church, provided he would relinquishhis place in the college, in favour of Mr. Hall.These promises being made with seeming sincerity,and as the Earl of Huntingdon was a man of reputationfor probity, he complied with his lordship’srequest, and relinquished his place in the college.When he was about to enter upon his office of chaplain,to his great mortification, the nobleman on whosepromises he confided, and on whom he immediately depended,suddenly died, by which accident he was thrown unprovidedupon the world. This not a little affected Mr.Hall, who was shocked to think that Mr. Gilby shouldbe thus distressed, by the generosity of his temper,which excited him to quit a certainty in order tomake way for his promotion. He addressed Dr. Chadderton,then the master of the college, that the succeedingelection might be stopped, and that Mr. Gilby shouldagain possess his place; but in this request he wasunsuccessful: for the Doctor told him, that Mr.Gilby was divested of all possibilty of remedy, andthat they must proceed in the election the day following;when Mr. Hall was unanimously chosen into that society.Two years after this, he was chosen Rhetorician tothe public schools, where, as he himself expressesit, “he was encouraged with a sufficient frequenceof auditors;” but this place he soon resignedto Dr. Dod, and entered upon studies necessary toqualify him for taking orders.

Some time after this, the mastership of a famous schoolerected at Tiverton in Devon, became vacant; thisschool was endowed by the founder Mr. Blundel, witha very large pension, and the care of it was principallycast upon the then Lord Chief Justice Popham.His lordship being intimately acquainted with Dr.Chadderton, requested him to recommend some learnedand prudent man for the government of that school.The Dr. recommended Mr. Hall, assuring him that greatadvantage would arise from it, without much troubleto himself: Our author thinking proper to acceptthis, the Doctor carried him to London, and introducedhim to Lord Chief Justice Popham, who seemed wellpleased and thanked Dr. Chadderton for recommendinga man so well qualified for the charge. WhenDr. Chadderton and Mr. Hall had taken leave of hislordship and were returning to their lodgings, a messengerpresented a letter to Mr. Hall, from lady Drury ofSuffolk, earnestly requesting him to accept the rectoryof Halsted, a place in her gift. This flow ofgood fortune not a little surprized him, and as hewas governed by the maxims of prudence, he made no

long hesitation in accepting the latter, which wasboth a better benefice, and a higher preferment.Being settled at Halsted, he found there a dangerousantagonist to his ministry, whom he calls in his Specialities,a witty, and a bold Atheist: “This was oneMr. Lilly, who by reason of his travels, (says he)and abilities of discourse and behaviour, had so deeplyinsinuated himself into my patron, that there weresmall hopes for me to work any good upon that noblepatron of mine; who by the suggestion of this wickeddetractor, was set off from me before he knew me.Hereupon, I confess, finding the obduredness, andhopeless condition of that man, I bent my prayers againsthim, beseeching God daily, that he would be pleasedto remove by some means or other, that apparent hindranceof my faithful labours; who gave me an answer accordingly.For this malicious man going hastily up to London,to exasperate my patron against me, was then and thereswept away by the pestilence, and never returned todo any further mischief.” This accountgiven by Mr. Hall of his antagonist, reflects no greathonour upon himself: it is conceived in a spiritof bitterness, and there is more of spite againstLilly’s person in it, than any tenderness orpity for his errors. He calls him a witty Atheist,when in all probability, what he terms atheism, wasno more than a freedom of thinking, and facetiousconversation, which to the pious churchman, had theappearance of denying the existence of God; besides,had Hall dealt candidly, he should have given his readerssome more particulars of a man whom he was bold enoughto denominate an Atheist, a character so very singular,that it should never be imputed to any man, withoutthe strongest grounds. Hall in his usual spiritof enthusiasm, in order to remove this antagonist ofhis, has recourse to a miracle: He tells us,he went up to London and died of the Plague, whichhe would have us to understand was by the immediateinterpolition of God, as if it were not ridiculousto suppose our author of so great importance, as thatthe Supreme Being should work a miracle in his favour;but as it is with natural so is it with spiritualpride, those who are possessed by either, never failto over-rate their own significance, and justly exposethemselves to the contempt of the sober part of mankind.

Our author has also given us some account of his marriage,with the daughter of Mr. George Winniff, of Bretenham;he says of her, that much modesty, piety, and gooddisposition were lodged in her seemly presence.She was recommended to him, by the Rev. Mr. Grandighis friend, and he says, he listened to the recommendation,as from the Lord, whom he frequently consulted byprayer, before he entered into the matrimonial state.She lived with him 49 years.

Not long after Mr. Hall’s settlement at Halsted,he was sollicited by Sir Edmund Bacon to accompanyhim in a journey to the Spa in Ardenna, at the timewhen the Earl of Hertford went ambassador to the archdukeAlbert of Brussels. This request Mr. Hall compliedwith, as it furnished him with an opportunity of feeingmore of the world, and gratified a desire he had ofconversing with the Romish Jesuits. The particularsof his journey, which he has preserved in his Specialities,are too trifling to be here inserted: When hecame to Brussels, he was introduced by an Englishgentleman, who practiced physic there, to the acquaintanceof father Costrus; who held some conversation withhim concerning the miracles said to be lately done,by one Lipsieus Apricollis, a woman who lived at Zichem.From particular miracles, the father turned the discourseto the difference between divine and diabolical miracles;and he told Mr. Hall, that if he could ascertain thatone miracle ever was wrought in the church of England,he would embrace that persuasion: To which ourauthor replied, that he was fully convinced, thatmany devils had been ejected out of persons in thatchurch by fasting and prayer. They both believedthe possibility and frequency of miracles; they onlydiffered as to the church in which miracles were performed.Hall has censured father Costrus, as a barren man,and of superficial conversation; and it is to be feared,that whoever reads Hall’s religious works willconclude much in the same manner of him. Theydeparted from Brussels soon after this interview betweenfather Costrus and our author, and met with nothingin their journey to and return from the Spa, worthrelation, only Mr. Hall had by his zeal in defendinghis own church, exposed himself to the resentmentof one Signior Ascanio Negro, who began notwithstandingMr. Hall’s lay-habit, to suspect him to be aclergyman, and use some indecent freedoms with himin consequence of this suspicion. Our authorto avoid any impertinence which the captain was likelyto be guilty of towards him, told him, Sir Edmund Bacon,the person with whom he travelled, was the grandchildof the great lord Verulam, High Chancelor of England,whose fame was extended to every country where scienceand philosophy prevailed, and that they were protectedby the earl of Hertford, the English embassador atBrussels. Upon the Italian’s being madeacquainted with the quality of Sir Edmund, and thehigh connections of the two travellers, he thoughtproper to desist from any acts of impertinence, towhich bigotry and ignorance would have excited him.Hall returned to England after being absent eighteenmonths, and was received but coldly by Sir RobertDrury his patron; there having never been much friendshipbetween them. In consequence of this, Mr. Hallcame to London, in search of a more comfortable provision;he was soon recommended by one Mr. Gurrey, tutor tothe Earl of Essex, to preach before Prince Henry at

Richmond. Before this accident Mr. Hall had beenauthor of some Meditations, whom Mr. Gurrey told him,had been well received at Henry’s court, andmuch read by that promising young Prince. He preachedwith success, for the Prince desired to hear him asecond time, and was so well pleased with him, thathe signified an inclination of having him attend abouthis court. Mr. Hall’s reputation growing,he was taken notice of by persons of fashion, andsoon obtained the living of Waltham, presented himby the Earl of Norwich.

While he exercised his function at Waltham, the archdeaconof Norwich engaged him to interest himself in favourof the church of Wolverhampton, from which a patrimonywas detained by a sacrilegious conveyance. Inthe course of this prosecution, our author observes,“that a marvellous light opened itself unexpectedly,by revealing a counterfeit seal, in the manifestationof razures, and interpolations, and misdates of unjustifiableevidences, that after many years suit, Lord ChancellorEllesmere, upon a full hearing, gave a decree in favourof the church.”

During Mr. Hall’s residence at Waltham, he wasthrice employed by his Majesty in public service.His first public employment was to attend the Earlof Carlisle, who went on an embassy to France, andduring his absence his Majesty conferred upon himthe deanery of Worcester. Upon his return, heattended the King in a journey to Scotland, wherehe exerted himself in support of episcopacy, in oppositionto the established ministry there, who were Presbyterians.Having acquired some name in polemical divinity, andbeing long accustomed to disputations, the King madechoice of him to go to the Netherlands, and assistat the synod of Dort, in settling the controvertedpoints of faith, for which that reverend body werethere convened. Hall has been very lavish inhis own praise, while he acted at the synod of Dort;he has given many hints of the supernatural assistancehe was blessed with: he has informed us, thathe was then in a languishing state of health; thathis rest was broken, and his nights sleepless; buton the night preceding the occasion of his preachinga Latin sermon to the synod, he was favoured with,refreshing sleep, which he ascribes to the immediatecare of providence. The states of Holland, hesays, “sent Daniel Heinsius the poet to visithim, and were so much delighted with his comportment,that they presented him with a rich medal of gold,as a monument of their respect for his poor endeavours.”Upon our author’s returning home, he found thechurch torn to pieces, by the fierce contentions whichthen subsisted concerning the doctrines of Arminius:he saw this with concern, and was sensible true religion,piety, and virtue, could never be promoted by suchaltercation; and therefore with the little power ofwhich he was master, he endeavoured to effect a reconciliationbetween the contending parties: he wrote whathe calls a project of pacification, which was presented

to his Majesty, and would have had a very happy influence,had not the enemies of Mr. Hall misrepresented thebook, and so far influenced the King, that a royaledict for a general inhibition, buried it in silence.Hall after this contended with the Roman Catholics,who upon the prospect of the Spanish match, on thesuccess of which they built their hopes, began to betraya great degree of insolence, and proudly boast thepedigree of their church, from the apostles themselves.They insisted, that as their church was the first,so it was the best, and that no ordination was validwhich was not derived from it. Hall in answerto their assertions, made a concession, which someof his Protestant brethren thought he had no rightto do; he acknowledged the priority of the Roman Church,but denied its infallibility, and consequently thatit was possible another church might be more pure,and approach more to the apostolic practice than theRomish. This controversy he managed so successfully,that he was promoted to the see of Exeter; and as KingJames I. seldom knew any bounds to his generosity,when he happened to take a person into his favour,he soon after that removed him from Exeter, and gavehim the higher bishoprick of Norwich; which he enjoyednot without some allay to his happiness, for the civilwars soon breaking out, he underwent the same severitieswhich were exercised against other prelates, of whichhe has given an account in a piece prefixed to hisworks, called, Hall’s hard Measure; and fromthis we shall extract the most material circ*mstances.

The insolence of some churchmen, and the superioritythey assumed in the civil government, during the distractionsof Charles I. provoked the House of Commons to takesome measures to prevent their growing power, whichthat pious monarch was too much disposed to favour.In consequence of this, the leading members of theopposition petitioned the King to remove the bishopsfrom their seats in Parliament, and degrade them tothe station at Commons, which was warmly opposed bythe high church lords, and the bishops themselves,who protested against whatever steps were taken duringtheir restraint from Parliament, as illegal, uponthis principle, that as they were part of the legislature,no law could pass during their absence, at least ifthat absence was produced by violence, which Clarendonhas fully represented.

The prejudice against the episcopal government gainingground, petitions to remove the bishops were pouredin from all parts of the kingdom, and as the earlof Strafford was then so obnoxious to the popularresentment, his cause and that of the bishops was reckonedby the vulgar, synonimous, and both felt the resentmentof an enraged populace. To such a fury were thecommon people wrought up, that they came in bodies,to the two Houses of Parliament, to crave justice,both against the earl of Strafford, and the archbishopof Canterbury, and, in short, the whole bench of spiritual

Peers; the mob besieged the two Houses, and threatenedvengeance upon the bishops, whenever they came out.This fury excited some motion to be made in the Houseof Peers, to prevent such tumults for the future, whichwere sent down to the House of Commons. The bishops,for their safety, were obliged to continue in theParliament House the greatest part of the night, andat last made their escape by bye-ways and stratagems.They were then convinced that it was no longer safefor them to attend the Parliament, ’till somemeasures were taken to repress the insolence of themob, and in consequence of this, they met at the houseof the archbishop of York, and drew up a protest,against whatever steps should be taken during theirabsence, occasioned by violence. This protest,the bishops intended should first be given to the Secretaryof State, and by him to the King, and that his Majestyshould cause it to be read in the House of Peers;but in place of this, the bishops were accused ofhigh treason, brought before the bar of the House ofPeers, and sent to the Tower. During their confinement,their enemies in the House of Commons, took occasionto bring in a bill for taking away the votes of bishopsin the House of Peers: in this bill lord Falklandconcurred, and it was supported by Mr. Hambden andMr. Pym, the oracles of the House of Commons, butmet with great opposition from Edward Hyde, afterwardsearl of Clarendon, who was a friend to the church,and could not bear to see their liberties infringed.

The bishops petitioned to have council assigned them,in which they were indulged, in order to answer tothe charge of high treason. A day was appointed,the bishops were brought to the bar, but nothing waseffected; the House of Commons at last finding thatthere could be no proof of high treason, dropt thatcharge, and were content to libel them for a misdemeanor,in which they likewise but ill succeeded, for thebishops were admitted to bail, and no prosecution wascarried on against them, even for a misdemeanor.

Being now at liberty, the greatest part of them retiredto their dioceses, ’till the storm which hadthreatened them should subside. Bishop Hall repairedto Norwich, where he met, from the disaffected party,a very cold reception; he continued preaching howeverin his cathedral at Norwich, ’till the orderof sequestration came down, when he was desired toremove from his palace, while the sequestrators seizedupon all his estate, both real and personal, and appraizedall the goods which were in the palace. The bishoprelates the following instance of oppression whichwas inflicted on him; ’One morning (says hislordship) before my servants were up, there came tomy gates one Wright, a London trooper, attended withothers requiring entrance, threatening if they werenot admitted, to break open the gates, whom, I foundat first sight, struggling with one of my servantsfor a pistol which he had in his hand; I demanded

his business at that unseasonable time; he told mehe came to search for arms and ammunition, of whichI must be disarmed; I told him I had only two musketsin the house, and no other military provision; he notresting upon my word, searched round about the house,looked into the chests and trunks, examined the vesselsin the cellar; finding no other warlike furniture,he asked me what horses I had, for his commissionwas to take them also; I told him how poorly I wasstored, and that my age would not allow me to travelon foot; in conclusion, he took one horse away.’

The committee of sequestration soon after proceededto strip him of all the revenue belonging to his see,and as he refused to take the covenant, the magistratesof the city of Norwich, who were no friends to episcopaljurisdiction, cited him before them, for giving ordinationunwarrantably, as they termed it: to this extraordinarysummons the bishop answered, that he would not betraythe dignity of his station by his personal appearance,to answer any complaints before the Lord Mayor, foras he was a Peer of the realm, no magistrate whateverhad a right to take cognizance of his conduct, andthat he was only accountable to the House of Lords,of which he was one. The bishop proceeds to enumeratethe various insults he received from the enraged populace;sometimes they searched his house for malignants,at other times they threatened violence to his person;nor did their resentment terminate here; they exercisedtheir fury in the cathedral, tore down the altar,broke the organ in pieces, and committed a kind ofsacrilegious devastation in the church; they burntthe service books in the market-place, filled the cathedralwith musketeers, who behaved in it with as much indecency,as if it had been an alehouse; they forced the bishopout of his palace, and employed that in the same manner.These are the most material hardships which, accordingto the bishop’s own account, happened to him,which he seems to have born with patience and fortitude,and may serve to shew the violence of party rage,and that religion is often made a pretence for committingthe most outrageous insolence, and horrid cruelty.It has been already observed, that Hall seems to havebeen of an enthusiastic turn of mind, which seldomconsists with any brilliance of genius; and in thiscase it holds true, for in his sermons extant, thereis an imbecility, which can flow from no other causethan want of parts. In poetry however he seemsto have greater power, which will appear when we considerhim in that light.

It cannot positively be determined on what year bishopHall died; he published that work of his called HardMeasure, in the year 1647, at which time he was seventy-threeyears of age, and in all probability did not longsurvive it.

His ecclesiastical works are,

A Sermon, preached before King James at Hampton-Court,1624.

Christian Liberty, set forth in a Sermon at Whitehall,1628.

Divine Light and Reflections, in a Sermon at Whitehall,1640.

A Sermon, preached at the Cathedral of Exeter, uponthe Pacification between the two Kingdoms, 1641.

The Mischief of Faction, and the Remedy of it, a Sermon,at Whitehall on the second Sunday in Lent, 1641.

A Sermon, preached at the Tower, 1641.

A Sermon, preached on Whitsunday in Norwich, printed1644.

A Sermon, preached on Whitsunday at Higham, printed1652.

A Sermon, preached on Easter day at Higham, 1648.

The Mourner in Sion.

A Sermon, preached at Higham, printed 1655.

The Women’s Veil, or a Discourse concerningthe Necessity or
Expedience of the close Covering the Heads of Women.

Holy Decency in the Worship of God.

Good Security, a Discourse of the Christian’sAssurance.

A Plain and Familiar Explication of Christ’sPresence, in the
Sacrament of his Body and Blood.

A Letter for the Observation of the Feast of Christ’sNativity.

A Letter to Mr. William Struthers, one of the Preachersat Edinburgh.

Epistola D. Baltasari Willio. S.T.D.

Epistola D. Lud. Crocio. S.T.D.

Reverendissimo Marco Antonio de L’om. Archiep.Spalatensi.

Epistola decessus sui ad Romam dissuasiva.

A Modest Offer.

Certain Irrefragable Propositions, worthy of seriousConsideration.

The Way of Peace in the Five Busy Articles, commonlyknown by the name of Arminius.

A Letter concerning the Fall Away from Grace.

A Letter concerning Religion.

A Letter concerning the frequent Injection of Temptations.

A Consolatory Letter to one under Censure.

A Short Answer to the Nine Arguments which are broughtagainst the
Bishops sitting in Parliament.

For Episcopacy and Liturgy.

A Speech in Parliament.

A Speech in Parliament, in Defence of the Canons madein Convocation.

A Speech in Parliament, concerning the Power of Bishopsin secular things.

The Anthems for the Cathedral of Exeter.

All these are printed in 4to, and were published 1660.There are also other Works of this author. AnEdition of the whole has been printed in three Vols.folio.

Besides these works, Bishop Hall is author of Satiresin Six Books, lately reprinted under the title ofVirgidemiarum, of which we cannot give a better accountthan in the words of the ingenious authors of theMonthly Review, by which Bishop Hall’s geniusfor that kind of poetical writing will fully appear.

He published these Satires in the twenty third yearof his age, and was, as he himself asserts in thePrologue, the first satirist in the English language.

I first adventure, follow me who list,
And be the second English satyrist.

And, if we consider the difficulty of introducingso nice a poem as satire into a nation, we must allowit required the assistance of no common and ordinarygenius. The Italians had their Ariosto, and theFrench their Regnier, who might have served him asmodels for imitation; but he copies after the ancients,and chiefly Juvenal and Persius; though he wants notmany strokes of elegance and delicacy, which shewhim perfectly acquainted with the manner of Horace.Among the several discouragements which attended hisattempt in that kind, he mentions one peculiar tothe language and nature of the English versification,which would appear in the translation of one of Persius’sSatires: The difficulty and dissonance whereof,says he, shall make good my assertion; besides theplain experience thereof in the Satires of Ariosto;save which, and one base French satire, I could neverattain the view of any for my direction. Yet wemay pay him almost the same compliment which was givenof old to Homer and Archilochus: for the improvementswhich have been made by succeeding poets bear no mannerof proportion to the distance of time between himand them. The verses of bishop Hall are in generalextremely musical and flowing, and are greatly preferableto Dr. Donne’s, as being of a much smoothercadence; neither shall we find him deficient, if comparedwith his successor, in point of thought and wit; buthe exceeds him with respect to his characters, whichare more numerous, and wrought up with greater artand strength of colouring. Many of his lineswould do honour to the most ingenious of our modernpoets; and some of them have thought it worth theirlabour to imitate him, especially Mr. Oldham.Bishop Hall was not only our first satyrist, but wasthe first who brought epistolary writing to the viewof the public; which was common in that age to otherparts of Europe, but not practised in England, tillhe published his own epistles. It may be properto take notice, that the Virgidemiarum are not printedwith his other writings, and that an account of themis omitted by him, through his extreme modesty, inthe Specialities of his Life, prefixed to the thirdvolume of his works in folio.

The author’s postscript to his satires is prefixedby the editor in the room of a preface, and withoutany apparent impropriety. It is not without somesignatures of the bishop’s good sense and taste;and, making a just allowance for the use of a fewobsolete terms, and the puerile custom of that agein making affected repetitions and reiterations ofthe same word within the compass of a period, it wouldread like no bad prose at present. He had undoubtedlyan excellent ear, and we must conclude he must havesucceeded considerably in erotic or pastoral poetry,from the following stanza’s, in his Defianceto Envy, which may be considered as an exordium tohis poetical writings.

Witnesse, ye muses, how I wilful sung
These heady rhimes, withouten second care;
And wish’d them worse my guiltythoughts among;
The ruder satire should go ragg’dand bare,
And shew his rougher and his hairy hide,
Tho’ mine be smooth, and deck’din carelesse pride.

Would we but breathe within a wax-boundquill,
Pan’s seven-fold pipe, some plaintivepastoral;
To teach each hollow grove, and shrubbyhill,
Each murmuring brook, each solitary vale
To found our love, and to our song accord,
Wearying Echo with one changelesse word.

Or lift us make two striving shepherdssing,
With costly wagers for the victory,
Under Menalcas judge; while one doth bring
A carven bowl well wrought of beechentree,
Praising it by the story; or the frame,
Or want of use, or skilful maker’sname.

Another layeth a well-marked lamb,
Or spotted kid, or some more forward steere,
And from the paile doth praise their fertiledam;
So do they strive in doubt, in hope, infeare,
Awaiting for their trusty empire’sdoome,
Faulted as false by him that’s overcome.
Whether so me lift my lovely thought tosing,
Come dance ye nimble Dryads by my side,
Ye gentle wood-nymphs come; and with youbring
The willing fawns that mought their musicguide.
Come nymphs and fawns, that haunts thoseshady groves,
While I report my fortunes or my loves.

The first three books of satires are termed by theauthor Toothless satires, and the three last Bitingsatires. He has an animated idea of good poetry,and a just contempt of poetasters in the differentspecies of it. He says of himself, in the firstsatire.

Nor can I crouch, and writhe my fawningtayle,
To some great Patron for my best avayle.
Such hunger-starven trencher-poetrie,
Or let it never live, or timely die.

He frequently avows his admiration of Spenser, whosecotemporary he was. His first book, consistingof nine satires, appears in a manner entirely levelledat low and abject poetasters. Several satiresof the second book reprehend the contempt of the rich,for men of science and genius. We shall transcribethe sixth, being short, and void of all obscurity.

A gentle squire would gladly entertaine
Into his house some trencher-chaplaine;
Some willing man that might instruct hissons,
And that would stand to good conditions.
First, that he lie upon the truckle-bed,
While his young maister lieth o’erhis head.
Second, that he do on no default,
Ever presume to sit above the salt.
Third, that he never change his trenchertwise.
Fourth, that he use all common courtesies;
Sit bare at meales, and one halfe raiseand wait.
Last, that he never his young maisterbeat,
But he must ask his mother to define,
How manie jerkes she would his breechshould line.
All these observed, he could contentedbee,
To give five markes and winter liverie.

The seventh and last of this book is a very just andhumorous satire against judicial astrology, whichwas probably in as high credit then, as witchcraftwas in the succeeding reign.

The first satire of the third book is a strong contrastof the temperance and simplicity of former ages, withthe luxury and effeminacy of his own tines, whicha reflecting reader would be apt to think no betterthan the present. We find the good bishop supposesour ancestors as poorly fed as Virgil’s andHorace’s rustics. He says, with sufficientenergy,

Thy grandsire’s words favour’dof thrifty leekes,
Or manly garlicke; but thy furnace reekes
Hot steams of wine; and can a-loose descrie
The drunken draughts of sweet autumnitie.

The second is a short satire on erecting stately monumentsto worthless men. The following advice is noblymoral, the subsequent sarcasm just and well expressed.

Thy monument make thou thy living deeds;
No other tomb than that true virtue needs.
What! had he nought whereby he might beknowne
But costly pilements of some curious stone?
The matter nature’s, and the workman’sframe;
His purse’s cost: where thenis Osmond’s name?
Deserv’dst thou ill? well were thyname and thee,
Wert thou inditched in great secrecie.

The third gives an account of a citizen’s feast,to which he was invited, as he says,

With hollow words, and [2] overly request.

and whom he disappointed by accepting his invitationat once, and not Maydening it; no insignificant termas he applies it: for, as he says,

Who looks for double biddings to a feast,
May dine at home for an importune guest.

After a sumptuous bill of fare, our author comparesthe great plenty of it to our present notion of amiser’s feast—­saying,

Come there no more; for so meant all thatcost;
Never hence take me for thy second host.

The fourth is levelled at Ostentation in devotion,or in dress. The fifth represents the sad plightof a courtier, whose Perewinke, as he terms it, thewind had blown off by unbonnetting in a salute, andexposed his waxen crown or scalp. ’Tis probablethis might be about the time of their introductioninto dress here. The sixth, which is a fragment,contains a hyperbolical relation of a thirsty foul,called Gullion, who drunk Acheron dry in his passageover it, and grounded Charon’s boat, but floatedit again, by as liberal a stream of urine. Itconcludes with the following sarcastical, yet wholesomeirony.

Drinke on drie foule, and pledge Sir Gullion:
Drinke to all healths, but drink not tothyne owne.

The seventh and last is a humorous description ofa famished beau, who had dined only with duke Humfrey,and who was strangely adorned with exotic dress.

To these three satires he adds the following conclusion.

Thus have I writ, in smoother cedar tree,
So gentle Satires, penn’d so easily.
Henceforth I write in crabbed oak-treerynde,
Search they that mean the secret meaningfind.
Hold out ye guilty and ye galled hides,
And meet my far-fetched stripes with waitingsides.

In his biting satires he breathes still more of thespirit and stile of Juvenal, his third of this bookbeing an imitation of that satirist’s eighth,on Family-madness and Pride of Descent; the beginningof which is not translated amiss by our author.The principal object of his fourth satire, Gallio,would correspond with a modern Fribble, but that hesupposes him capable of hunting and hawking, whichare exercises rather too coarse and indelicate forours: this may intimate perhaps, that the reignof the great Elizabeth had no character quite so unmanlyas our age. In advising him to wed, however,we have no bad portrait of the Petit Maitre.

Hye thee, and give the world yet one dwarfemore,
Such as it got when thou thy selfe wasbore.

His fifth satire contrasts the extremes of Prodigalityand Avarice; and by a few initials, which are skabbarded,it looks as if he had some individuals in view; thoughhe has disclaimed such an intention in his postscript(now the preface) p. 6. lin. 25, &c. His sixthsets out very much like the first satire of Horace’sfirst book, on the Dissatisfaction and Caprice ofmankind—­Qui fit Mecaenas; and, after ajust and lively-description of our different pursuitsin life, he concludes with the following preferenceof a college one, which, we find in the Specialitiesof his life, he was greatly devoted to in his youth.The lines, which are far from inelegant, seem indeedto come from his heart, and make him appear as anexception to that too general human discontent, whichwas the subject of this satire.

’Mongst all these stirs of discontentedstrife,
Oh let me lead an academick life;
To know much, and to think we nothingknow;
Nothing to have, yet think we have enowe;
In skill to want, and wanting seek formore;
In weele nor want, nor wish for greaterstore.
Envy, ye monarchs, with your proad excesse,
At our low sayle, and our high happinesse.

The last satire of this book is a severe one on theclergy of the church of Rome. He terms it POMH-PYMH,by which we suppose he intended to brand Roma, asthe Sink of Superstition. He observes, if Juvenal,whom he calls Aquine’s carping spright, werenow alive, among other surprising alterations at Rome,

—­that he most would gaze andwonder at, Is th’ horned mitre, and the bloodyhat, The crooked staffe, their coule’s strangeform and store, Save that he saw the fame in hellbefore.

The first satire of the fifth book is levelled atRacking Landlords. The following lines are astrong example of the taste of those times for thePunn and Paronomasia.

While freezing Matho, that for one leanfee
Won’t term each term the term ofHillary,
May now, instead of those his simple fees,
Get the fee-simples of faire manneries.

The second satire lashes the incongruity of statelybuildings and want of hospitality, and naturally remindsus of a pleasant epigram of Martial’s on thesame occasion, where after describing the magnificenceof a villa, he concludes however, there is no roomeither to sup or lodge in it. It ends with atransition on the contumely with which the parasitesare treated at the tables of the great; being a prettyclose imitation of Juvenal on the same subject.This satire has also a few skabbarded initials.

In his third, titled, [Greek: KOINA PHIAON],where he reprehends Plato’s notion of a politicalcommunity of all things, are the following lines:

Plato is dead, and dead is his device,
Which some thought witty, none thoughtever wise:
Yet certes Macha is a Platonist
To all, they say, save whoso do not list;
Because her husband, a far traffick’man,
Is a profess’d Peripatician.

His last book and satire, for it consists but of one,is a humorous ironical recantation of his former satires;as the author pretends there can be no just one insuch perfect times as his own. The latter partof it alludes to different passages in Juvenal; andhe particularly reflects on some poetaster he callsLabeo, whom he had repeatedly lash’d before;and who was not improbably some cotemporary scribler.

Upon the whole, these satires sufficiently evinceboth the learning and ingenuity of their author.The sense has generally such a sufficient pause, andwill admit of such a punctuation at the close of thesecond line, and the verse is very often as harmonioustoo, as if it was calculated for a modern ear:tho’ the great number of obsolete words retainedwould incline us to think the editors had not procuredany very extraordinary alteration of the original edition,which we have never seen. The present one isnearly printed; and, if it should occasion another,we cannot think but a short glossary at the end ofit, or explanations at the bottom of the pages, wherethe most uncouth and antiquated terms occur, wouldjustly increase the value of it, by adding considerablyto the perspicuity of this writer; who, in other respects,seems to have been a learned divine, a conscientiouschristian, a lover of peace, and well endued with patience;for the exercise of which virtue, the confusions atthe latter end of his life, about the time of thedeath of Charles I. furnished him with frequent opportunities,the account of his own hard measures being dated inMay 1647. We have met with no other poetical writingsof the bishop’s, except three anthems, composedfor the use of his cathedral-church; and indeed, itseems as if his continual occupation after his youth,and his troubles in age, were sufficient to suppressany future propensity to satirical poetry: whichwe may infer from the conclusion of the first satireof his fourth book.

While now my rhimes relish of the ferulestill,
Some nose-wise pedant saith; whose deep-seenskill
Hath three times construed either Flaccuso’er,
And thrice rehears’d them in histrivial flore.
So let them tax me for my hot blood’srage,
Rather than say I doated in my age.

[Footnote 1: Specialities of this bishop’slife prefixed to his works.]

[Footnote 2: Slight.]

* * * * *

RICHARD CRASHAW.

Son of an eminent divine named William Crashaw, waseducated in grammar learning in Sutton’s-Hospitalcalled the Charter-House, near London, and in academical,partly in Pembroke-Hall, of which he was a scholar,and afterwards in Peterhouse, Cambridge, of which hewas a fellow, where, as in the former house, he wasdistinguished for his Latin and English poetry.Afterwards he took the degree of master of arts; butbeing soon after thrown out of his fellowship, withmany others of the University of Cambridge, for denyingthe Covenant during the time of the rebellion, hewas for a time obliged to shift for himself, and struggleagainst want and oppression. At length beingwearied with persecution and poverty, and foreseeingthe calamity which threatened and afterwards fellupon his church and country, by the unbounded furyof the Presbyterians, he changed his religion, andwent beyond sea, in order to recommend himself to somePopish preferment in Paris; but being a mere scholarwas incapable of executing his new plan of a livelihood.Mr. Abraham Cowley hearing of his being there, endeavouredto find him out, which he did, and to his great surprizesaw him in a very miserable plight: this happenedin the year 1646. This generous bard gave himall the assistance he could, and obtained likewisesome relief for him from Henrietta Maria the QueenDowager, then residing at Paris. Our author receivingletters of recommendation from his Queen, he took ajourney into Italy, and by virtue of those lettersbecame a secretary to a Cardinal at Rome, and at lengthone of the canons or chaplains of the rich churchof our lady of Loretto, some miles distant from thence,where he died in 1650.

This conduct of Crashaw can by no means be justified:when a man changes one religion for another, he oughtto do it at a time when no motive of interest canwell be supposed to have produced it; for it doesno honour to religion, nor to the person who becomesa convert, when it is evident, he would not have alteredhis opinion, had not his party been suffering; andwhat would have become of the church of England, whatof the Protestant religion, what of christianity ingeneral, had the apostles and primitive martyrs, andlater champions for truth, meanly abandoned it likeCrashaw, because the hand of power was lifted up againstit. It is an old observation, that the blood ofthe martyrs is the seed of the church; but Crashawtook care that the church mould reap no benefit byhis perseverance. Before he left England he wrotepoems, entitled, Steps to the Temple; and Wood says,“That he led his life in St. Mary’s churchnear to Peterhouse, where he lodged under Tertullian’sroof of angels; there he made his nest more glad thanDavid’s swallow near the house of God, wherelike a primitive saint he offered more prayers inthe night than others usually offer in the day.There he pen’d the poems called Steps to theTemple for Happy Souls to climb to Heaven by.

To the said Steps are joined other poems, entitled,The Delights of the Muses, wherein are several Latinpoems; which tho’ of a more humane mixture, yetare sweet as they are innocent. He hath alsowritten Carmen Deo Nostro, being Hymns and other sacredPoems, addressed to the Countess of Denbigh.He is said to have been master of five languages, besideshis mother tongue, viz. Hebrew, Greek, Latin,Italian, and Spanish.”

Mr. Crashaw seems to have been a very delicate andchaste writer; his language is pure, his thoughtsnatural, and his manner of writing tender.

* * * * *

WILLIAM ROWLEY.

An author who lived in the reign of Charles I. andwas some time a member of Pembroke-Hall in Cambridge.There are no particulars on record concerning thispoet. He was beloved, says Langbaine, by Shakespear,Johnson, and Fletcher, and writ with the former theBritish Merlin, besides what he joined in writing withpoets of the third class, as Heywood, Middleton, Day,and Webster.

The author has six plays in print of his own writing,which are as follows;

1. A New Wonder, a Woman never vext, a Comedy,acted Anno 1632. The Widow’s finding herwedding Ring (which she dropt crossing the Thames)in the Belly of a Fish, is taken from the Story ofPolycrates, in the Thalia of Herodotus.

2. A Match at Midnight, a Comedy, acted by theChildren of the Revels, 1633. Part of the Plotis taken from a Story in the English Rogue, Part thefourth.

3. All’s lost by Lust, a Tragedy, actedat the Phoenix in Drury-lane by the Lady Elizabeth’sServants, 1633. This is esteemed a tolerablePlay.

4. Shoemaker’s a Gentleman, a Comedy, actedat the Red-Bull, 1638. This Play was afterwardsrevived at the Theatre in Dorset-Garden. Plotfrom Crispin and Crispianus; or the History of theGentle Craft.

5. The Witch of Edmonton, a Tragi-Comedy, actedby the Prince’s Servants at the co*ck-pit inDrury-Lane, 1658. This Play was afterwards actedat Court with Applause.

6. The Birth of Merlin, a Tragi-Comedy, 1662.The Plot from Geofrey of Monmouth. Shakespearassisted in this Play. He joined with Middletonin his Spanish Gypsies, Webster in his Thracian Wonder.

* * * * *

THOMAS NASH.

A versifier in the reign of King Charles I. was educatedin the university of Cambridge, and was designed forholy orders. He was descended from a family inHertfordshire, and was born at Leostoff in Suffolk.Whether he obtained any preferment in the church, orwas honoured with any great man’s patronage,is no where determined. It is reasonable to believethe contrary, because good fortune is seldom withoutthe evidence of flattery, or envy, whereas distressand obscurity, are almost inseparable companions.

This is further confirmed in some lines vehementlypassionate, in a performance of his called Piers Penniless;which to say nothing of the poetry, are a strong pictureof rage, and despair, and part of which as they willshew that he was no mean versifier, shall be quotedby way of specimen. In the abovementioned pieceof Piers Penniless, or Supplication to the Devil,he had some reflections on the parentage of Dr. Harvey,his father being a rope-maker of Saffron-Walden.This produced contests between the Doctor and him,so that it became a paper war. Amongst otherbooks which Mr. Nash wrote against him, was one entitled,Have with ye, to Saffron Walden; and another called,Four letters confuted. He wrote likewise a poem,called, The White Herring and the Red. He haspublished two plays, Dido Queen of Carthage, in whichhe joined with Marloe: and Summers last Will andTestament, a Comedy. Langbaine says, he couldnever procure a sight of either of these, but as tothe play called, See me, and See me not, ascribedto him by Winstanley, he says, it is written by oneDrawbridgecourt Belchier, Esq; Thomas Nash had thereputation of a sharp satirist, which talent he exertedwith a great deal of acrimony against the Covenantersand Puritans of his time: He likewise wrote apiece called, The Fourfold way to Happiness, in a dialoguebetween a countryman, citizen, divine, and lawyer,printed in 4to. London, 1633.

In an old poem called the return to Parnassus; ora scourge for Simony, Nash’s character is summedup in four lines, which Mrs. Cooper thinks is impartiallydone.

Let all his faults sleep in his mournfulchest,
And there for ever with his ashes rest!
His stile was witty; tho he had some gall:
Something he might have mended——­somay all

From his piers penniless.

Why is’t damnation to despair anddie,
When life is my true happiness disease?
My soul! my soul’ thy safety makesme fly
The faulty means that might my pain appease,
Divines, and dying men may talk of Hell;
But, in my heart, her sev’ral tormentsdwell!
Ah! worthless wit to train me to thiswoe!
Deceitful arts, that nourish discontent!
Ill thrive the folly that bewitched meso!
Vain thoughts adieu, for now I will repent!
And yet my wants persuade me to proceed,
Since none take pity of a Scholar’sneed!

Forgive me God, altho’ I curse mybirth,
And ban the air wherein I breath a wretch!
Since misery hath daunted all my mirth
And I am quite undone, thro’ promisebreach
O friends! no friends! that then ungentlyfrown,
When changing fortune casts us headlongdown!

Without redress, complains my carelessverse,
And Midas ears relent not at my moan!
In some far land will I my griefs rehearse,
’Mongst them that will be movedwhen I shall groan!
England adieu! the soil that brought meforth!
Adieu unkind where still is nothing worth!

* * * * *

JOHN FORD,

A Gentleman of the Middle-Temple, who wrote in thereign of Charles I. He was a well-wisher to the muses,and a friend and acquaintance of most of the poetsof his time. He was not only a partner with Rowleyand Decker in the Witch of Edmonton, and with Deckerin the Sun’s Darling; but wrote likewise himselfseven plays, most of which were acted at the Phaenixin the Black-Fryars, and may be known by an Anagraminstead of his name, generally printed in the title-page,viz,

Fide Honor.

His genius was more turned for tragedy than comedy,which occasioned an old poet to write thus of him:

Deep in a dump, John Ford was alone got,
With folded arms, and melancholy hat.

These particulars I find in Mr. Langbaine, who givesthe following account of his plays;

1. Broken Heart, a Tragedy, acted by the King’sServants at the private House in Black-Fryars, printedin 4to. London 1633, and dedicated to Lord Craven,Baron of Hamstead-Marshal: The Speaker’sNames are fitted to their Qualities, and most of themare derived from Greek Etymologies.

2. Fancies Chaste and Noble, a Tragi-Comedy,acted by the Queen’s Servants, at the Phoenixin Drury Lane, printed 4to. London 1638, anddedicated to Lord Randel Macdonell, Earl of Antrim,in the Kingdom of Ireland.

3. Ladies Tryal, a Tragi-Comedy, acted by boththeir Majesties Servants, at the Private House inDrury-Lane, printed 4to. London, 1639.

4. Lover’s Melancholy, a Tragi-Comedy,acted at a Private House in Black-Fryars, and publicklyat the Globe by the King’s Servants, printed4to. London 1629, and dedicated to the Societyof Gray’s-Inn. This Play is commended byfour of the author’s Friends, one of whom writesthe following Tetrastich:

’Tis not the language, nor the fore-placedrhimes
Of friends, that shall commend to aftertimes
The lover’s melancholy: It’sown worth
Without a borrowed praise shall see itforth.

The author, says Langbaine, has imbellished this Playwith several fancies from other Writers, which hehas appositely brought in, as the Story of the Contentionbetween the Musician and the Nightingale, describedin Strada’s academical Prolusions, Lib. ii.Prol. 6.

5. Love’s Sacrifice, a Tragedy, receivedgenerally well, acted by the Queen’s Servants,at the Phoenix in Drury-Lane; printed 4to. Lond.1663. There is a copy of verses prefixed to thisPlay, written by James Shirley, Esq; a dramatic writer.

6. Perkin Warbeck, a Chronicle History, and strangeTruth, acted by the Queen’s Servants in Drury-Lane,printed 4to. 1634, and dedicated to William Cavendish,Duke of Newcastle. This Play, as several of theformer, is attended with Verses written by four ofthe Author’s friends. The Plot is foundedon Truth, and may be read in all the Chronicles ofHenry vii.

7. Sun’s Darling, a Moral Mask, often presentedby their Majesties Servants at the co*ck-pit in Drury-Lane,with great Applause, printed in 4to. London 1657,dedicated to the Right Hon. Thomas Wriothesley, Earlof Southampton. This Play was wrote by our authorand John Decker, but not published till after theirdecease. A Copy of Verses written by Mr. JohnTateham is the Introduction to the Mask, at the Entrywhereof the Reader will find an Explanation of theDesign alluding to the Four Seasons of the Year.

8. ’Tis Pity she’s a whor*, a Tragedy,printed in 4to. Mr. Langbaine says, that thisequals if not exceeds any of our author’s performances,and were to be commended did not he paint the incestuouslove between Giovanni, and his Sister Annabella, intoo beautiful colours. I have not been able toascertain the year in which this author died; butimagine from circ*mstances, that it must have beensome time before the Restoration, and before the Year1657, for the Sun’s Darling, written betweenhim and Decker was published in 1657, which Mr. Langbainesays, was after their Decease.

* * * * *

THOMAS MIDDLETON

Lived in the reign of King Charles I. he was cotemporarywith Johnson, Fletcher, Maslinger and Rowley, in whosefriendship he is said to have shared, and though hefell much short of the two former, yet being joinedwith them in writing plays, he arrived at some reputation.He joined with Fletcher and Johnson in a play calledThe Widow, and the highest honour that is known ofthis poet, is, his being admitted to make a triumviratewith two such great men: he joined with Massingerand Rowley in writing the Old Law; he was likewiseassisted by Rowley in writing three plays[1].We have not been able to find any particulars of thisman’s life, further than his friendship andconnection already mentioned, owing to his obscurity,as he was never considered as a genius, concerningwhich the world thought themselves interested to preserveany particulars.

His dramatic works are,

1. The Five Gallants, acted at the Black Fryars.

2. Blur, Mr. Constable, or the Spaniard’sNight Walk, a Comedy, acted by the Children of St.Paul’s School, 1602.

3. The Phaenix, a Tragedy, acted by the Childrenof St. Paul’s, and also before his Majesty,1607; the story is taken from a Spanish Novel, calledthe Force of Love.

4. The Family of Love, a Comedy, acted by thechildren of his Majesty’s Revels, 1608.

5. The Roaring Girl, or Moll Cutpurse, actedby the Prince’s Players, 1611; part of thisplay was writ by Mr. Decker.

6. A Trick to catch the Old One, a Comedy, actedboth at St. Paul’s and Black Fryars before theirMajesties, with success, 1616.

7. The Triumphs of Love and Antiquity, a Masque,performed at the Confirmation of Sir William co*kain,General of his Majesty’s Forces, and Lord Mayorof the city of London, 1619.

8. The Chaste Maid of Cheapside, a pleasant Comedy,acted by the Lady Elizabeth’s servants, 1620.

9. The World toss’d at Tennis, a Masque,presented by the Prince’s servants, 1620.

10. The Fair Quarrel, a Comedy, acted in theyear 1622, Mr. Rowley assisted in the composing thisPlay.

11. The Inner Temple Masque, a Masque of Heroes,represented by the Gentlemen of the Inner-Temple,1640.

12. The Changeling, a Tragedy, acted at a privatehouse in Drury Lane, and Salisbury Court, with applause,1653, Mr. Rowley joined in writing this play; forthe plot see the story of Alsemero, and Beatrice Joannain Reynolds’s God’s Revenge against Murder.

13. The Old Law, or a New Way to Please You,a Comedy, acted before the King and Queen in SalisburyCourt, printed 1656. Massenger and Rowley assistedin this Play.

14. No Wit, No Help like a Woman’s, a Comedy,acted in the year 1657.

15. Women, beware Women, a Tragedy, 1657.This Play is founded on a Romance called Hyppolitoand Isabella.

16. More Dissemblers besides Women, a Comedy,acted 1657.

17. The Spanish Gypsies, a Comedy, acted withapplause, both at the private house in Drury Lane,and Salisbury Court, 1660; in this Play he was assistedby Mr. Rowley. Part of it is borrowed from a SpanishNovel called the Force of Blood, written originallyby Cervantes.

18. The Mayor of Queenborough, a Comedy, actedby his Majesty’s servants, 1661. For theplot see the Reign of Vartigas, by Stow and Speed.

19. Any Thing for a Quiet Life, acted at theGlobe on the Bank Side. This is a game betweenthe Church of England, and that of Rome, wherein theformer gains the victory.

20. Michaelmas Term, a Comedy; it is uncertainwhether this play was ever acted.

21. A Mad World, my Masters, a Comedy, oftenacted at a private house in Salisbury Court with applause.

[Footnote 1: Langbaine’s Lives of the Poets,p. 370.]

* * * * *

End of the First volume.