On 19 Aug 1631 John Dryden Poet 1631-1700 was born in The Rectory Aldwincle Thrapston.
On 10 Apr 1637 [his future brother-in-law] Charles Howard 2nd Earl Berkshire 1615-1679 (22) and Dorothy Savage Countess Berkshire were married. They were third cousins once removed.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 14 June 1663. 14 Jun 1663. Lord's Day. Lay long in bed. So up and to church. Then to dinner, and Tom dined with me, who I think grows a very thriving man, as he himself tells me. He tells me that his man John has got a wife, and for that he intends to part with him, which I am sorry for, and then that Mr. Armiger comes to be a constant lodger at his house, and he says has money in his purse and will be a good paymaster, but I do much doubt it.
He being gone, I up and sending my people to church, my wife and I did even our reckonings, and had a great deal of serious talk, wherein I took occasion to give her hints of the necessity of our saving all we can. I do see great cause every day to curse the time that ever I did give way to the taking of a woman for her, though I could never have had a better, and also the letting of her learn to dance, by both which her mind is so devilishly taken off her business and minding her occasions, and besides has got such an opinion in her of my being jealous, that it is never to be removed, I fear, nor hardly my trouble that attends it; but I must have patience. I did give her 40s. to carry into the country tomorrow with her, whereof 15s. is to go for the coach-hire for her and Ashwell, there being 20s. paid here already in earnest.
In the evening our discourse turned to great content and love, and I hope that after a little forgetting our late differences, and being a while absent one from another, we shall come to agree as well as ever.
So to Sir W. Pen's (42) to visit him, and finding him alone, sent for my wife, who is in her riding-suit, to see him, which she hath not done these many months I think.
By and by in comes Sir J. Minnes (64) and Sir W. Batten (62), and so we sat talking. Among other things, Sir J. Minnes (64) brought many fine expressions of Chaucer, which he doats on mightily, and without doubt he is a very fine poet1. Sir W. Pen (42) continues lame of the gout, that he cannot rise from his chair. So after staying an hour with him, we went home and to supper, and so to prayers and bed.
Note 1. Pepys continued through life an admirer of Chaucer, and we have the authority of Dryden (31) himself for saying that we owe his character of the Good Parson to Pepys's recommendation.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 03 February 1664. 03 Feb 1664. Up, and after a long discourse with my cozen Thomas Pepys (53), the executor, I with my wife by coach to Holborn, where I 'light, and she to her father's, I to the Temple and several places, and so to the 'Change, where much business, and then home to dinner alone; and so to the Mitre Taverne by appointment (and there met by chance with W. Howe come to buy wine for my Lord against his going down to Hinchingbroke, and I private with him a great while discoursing of my Lord's strangeness to me; but he answers that I have no reason to think any such thing, but that my Lord is only in general a more reserved man than he was before) to meet Sir W. Rider and Mr. Clerke (41), and there after much ado made an end, giving Mr. Custos £202 against Mr. Bland, which I endeavoured to bring down but could not, and think it is well enough ended for Mr. Bland for all that.
Thence by coach to fetch my wife from her brother's, and found her gone home. Called at Sir Robert Bernard's about surrendering my estate in reversion to the use of my life, which will be done, and at Roger Pepys (46), who was gone to bed in pain of a boyle that he could not sit or stand.
So home, where my wife is full of sad stories of her good-natured father and roguish brother, who is going for Holland and his wife, to be a soldier.
And so after a little at the office to bed. This night late coming in my coach, coming up Ludgate Hill, I saw two gallants and their footmen taking a pretty wench, which I have much eyed, lately set up shop upon the hill, a seller of riband and gloves. They seek to drag her by some force, but the wench went, and I believe had her turn served, but, God forgive me! what thoughts and wishes I had of being in their place.
In Covent Garden to-night, going to fetch home my wife, I stopped at the great Coffee-house' there, where I never was before; where Dryden (32) the poet (I knew at Cambridge), and all the wits of the town, and Harris (30) the player, and Mr. Hoole of our College. And had I had time then, or could at ether times, it will be good coming thither, for there, I perceive, is very witty and pleasant discourse. But I could not tarry, and as it was late, they were all ready to go away.
Around 1665 John Michael Wright Painter 1617-1694 (47). Portrait of John Dryden Poet 1631-1700 (33).
Diary of Samuel Pepys 12 May 1666. 12 May 1666. Up to the office very betimes to draw up a letter for the Duke of Yorke (32) relating to him the badness of our condition in this office for want of money. That being in good time done we met at the office and there sat all the morning.
At noon home, where I find my wife troubled still at my checking her last night in the coach in her long stories out of Grand Cyrus, which she would tell, though nothing to the purpose, nor in any good manner1. This she took unkindly, and I think I was to blame indeed; but she do find with reason, that in the company of Pierce, Knipp, or other women that I love, I do not value her, or mind her as I ought. However very good friends by and by, and to dinner, and after dinner up to the putting our dining room in order, which will be clean again anon, but not as it is to be because of the pictures which are not come home.
To the office and did much business, in the evening to Westminster and White Hall about business and among other things met Sir G. Downing (41) on White Hall bridge, and there walked half an hour, talking of the success of the late new Act; and indeed it is very much, that that hath stood really in the room of £800,000 now since Christmas, being itself but £1,250,000. And so I do really take it to be a very considerable thing done by him; for the beginning, end, and every part of it, is to be imputed to him.
So home by water, and there hard till 12 at night at work finishing the great letter to the Duke of Yorke (32) against to-morrow morning, and so home to bed. This day come home again my little girle Susan, her sicknesse proving an ague, and she had a fit soon almost as she come home. The fleete is not yet gone from the Nore. The plague encreases in many places, and is 53 this week with us.
Note 1. Sir Walter Scott observes, in his "Life of Dryden (34)", that the romances of Calprenede and Scuderi, those ponderous and unmerciful folios, now consigned to oblivion, were, in their day, not only universally read and admired, but supposed to furnish the most perfect models of gallantry and heroism. Dr. Johnson read them all. "I have", says Mrs. Chapone, "and yet I am still alive, dragged through 'Le Grand Cyrus,' in twelve huge volumes; 'Cleopatra,' in eight or ten; 'Ibrahim,' 'Clelie,' and some others, whose names, as well as all the rest of them, I have forgotten" ("Letters to Mrs. Carter"). No wonder that Pepys sat on thorns, when his wife began to recite "Le Grand Cyrus" in the coach, "and trembled at the impending tale". B.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 04 August 1666. 04 Aug 1666. Up, and to the office, where all the morning, and, at noon to dinner, and Mr. Cooke dined with us, who is lately come from Hinchingbroke, [Lord Hinchingbrooke (18)] who is also come to town: The family all well. Then I to the office, where very busy to state to Mr. Coventry (38) the account of the victuals of the fleete, and late at it, and then home to supper and to bed.
This evening, Sir W. Pen (45) come into the garden, and walked with me, and told me that he had certain notice that at Flushing they are in great distraction. De Ruyter (59) dares not come on shore for fear of the people; nor any body open their houses or shops for fear of the tumult: which is a every good hearing.
Note 1. To spoom, or spoon, is to go right before the wind, without any sail. Sea Dictionary. Dryden (34) uses the word "When virtue spooms before a prosperous gale, My heaving wishes help to fill the sail". Hind and Panther, iii. 96.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 02 February 1667. 02 Feb 1667. Up, and to the office. This day I hear that Prince Rupert (47) is to be trepanned. God give good issue to it. Sir W. Pen (45) looks upon me, and I on him, and speak about business together at the table well enough, but no friendship or intimacy since our late difference about his closet, nor do I desire to have any.
At noon dined well, and my brother and I to write over once more with my own hand my catalogue of books, while he reads to me.
After something of that done, and dined, I to the office, where all the afternoon till night busy. At night, having done all my office matters, I home, and my brother and I to go on with my catalogue, and so to supper. Mrs. Turner (44) come to me this night again to condole her condition and the ill usage she receives from my Lord Bruncker (47), which I could never have expected from him, and shall be a good caution to me while I live.
She gone, I to supper, and then to read a little, and to bed. This night comes home my new silver snuffe-dish, which I do give myself for my closet, which is all I purpose to bestow in plate of myself, or shall need, many a day, if I can keep what I have.
So to bed. I am very well pleased this night with reading a poem I brought home with me last night from Westminster Hall, of Dryden's (35) upon the present war; a very good poem.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 02 March 1667. 02 Mar 1667. Up, and to the office, where sitting all the morning, and among other things did agree upon a distribution of £30,000 and odd, which is the only sum we hear of like to come out of all the Poll Bill for the use of this office for buying of goods. I did herein some few courtesies for particular friends I wished well to, and for the King's service also, and was therefore well pleased with what was done.
Sir W. Pen (45) this day did bring an order from the Duke of York (33) for our receiving from him a small vessel for a fireship, and taking away a better of the King's for it, it being expressed for his great service to the King (36). This I am glad of, not for his sake, but that it will give me a better ground, I believe, to ask something for myself of this kind, which I was fearful to begin. This do make Sir W. Pen (45) the most kind to me that can be. I suppose it is this, lest it should find any opposition from me, but I will not oppose, but promote it.
After dinner, with my wife, to the King's house to see "The Mayden Queene", a new play of Dryden's (35), mightily commended for the regularity of it, and the strain and wit; and, the truth is, there is a comical part done by Nell (17)1, which is Florimell, that I never can hope ever to see the like done again, by man or woman. The King (36) and Duke of York (33) were at the play. But so great performance of a comical part was never, I believe, in the world before as Nell (17) do this, both as a mad girle, then most and best of all when she comes in like a young gallant; and hath the notions and carriage of a spark the most that ever I saw any man have. It makes me, I confess, admire her.
Thence home and to the office, where busy a while, and then home to read the lives of Henry 5th and 6th, very fine, in Speede, and to bed. This day I did pay a bill of £50 from my father, being so much out of my own purse gone to pay my uncle Robert's legacy to my aunt Perkins's child.
Note 1. "Her skill increasing with her years, other poets sought to obtain recommendations of her wit and beauty to the success of their writings. I have said that Dryden (35) was one of the principal supporters of the King's house, and ere long in one of his new plays a principal character was set apart for the popular comedian. The drama was a tragi-comedy called 'Secret Love, or the Maiden Queen,' and an additional interest was attached to its production from the King (36) having suggested the plot to its author, and calling it 'his play.'"—Cunningham's Story of Nell Gwyn (17), ed: 1892, pp. 38,39.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 03 March 1667. 03 Mar 1667. Lord's Day. Lay long, merrily talking with my wife, and then up and to church, where a dull sermon of Mr. Mills touching Original Sin, and then home, and there find little Michell and his wife, whom I love mightily. Mightily contented I was in their company, for I love her much; and so after dinner I left them and by water from the Old Swan to White Hall, where, walking in the galleries, I in the first place met Mr. Pierce, who tells me the story of Tom Woodall, the surgeon, killed in a drunken quarrel, and how the Duke of York (33) hath a mind to get him [Pierce] one of his places in St. Thomas's Hospitall. Then comes Mr. Hayward, the Duke of York's (33) servant, and tells us that the Swede's Embassador hath been here to-day with news that it is believed that the Dutch will yield to have the treaty at London or Dover, neither of which will get our King any credit, we having already consented to have it at The Hague; which, it seems, De Witt opposed, as a thing wherein the King (36) of England must needs have some profound design, which in my conscience he hath not. They do also tell me that newes is this day come to the King (36), that the King of France (28) is come with his army to the frontiers of Flanders, demanding leave to pass through their country towards Poland, but is denied, and thereupon that he is gone into the country. How true this is I dare not believe till I hear more.
From them I walked into the Parke, it being a fine but very cold day; and there took two or three turns the length of the Pell Mell: and there I met Serjeant Bearcroft, who was sent for the Duke of Buckingham (39), to have brought him prisoner to the Tower. He come to towne this day, and brings word that, being overtaken and outrid by the Duchesse of Buckingham (28) within a few miles of the Duke's house of Westhorp, he believes she got thither about a quarter of an hour before him, and so had time to consider; so that, when he come, the doors were kept shut against him. The next day, coming with officers of the neighbour market-town to force open the doors, they were open for him, but the Duke (39) gone; so he took horse presently, and heard upon the road that the Duke of Buckingham (39) was gone before him for London: so that he believes he is this day also come to towne before him; but no newes is yet heard of him. This is all he brings.
Thence to my Chancellor's (58), and there, meeting Sir H. Cholmly (34), he and I walked in my Lord's garden, and talked; among other things, of the treaty: and he says there will certainly be a peace, but I cannot believe it. He tells me that the Duke of Buckingham (39) his crimes, as far as he knows, are his being of a caball with some discontented persons of the late House of Commons, and opposing the desires of the King (36) in all his matters in that House; and endeavouring to become popular, and advising how the Commons' House should proceed, and how he would order the House of Lords. And that he hath been endeavouring to have the King's nativity calculated; which was done, and the fellow now in the Tower about it; which itself hath heretofore, as he says, been held treason, and people died for it; but by the Statute of Treasons, in Queen Mary's times and since, it hath been left out. He tells me that this silly Lord hath provoked, by his ill-carriage, the Duke of York (33), my Chancellor (58), and all the great persons; and therefore, most likely, will die. He tells me, too, many practices of treachery against this King; as betraying him in Scotland, and giving Oliver an account of the King's private councils; which the King (36) knows very well, and hath yet pardoned him1.
Here I passed away a little time more talking with him and Creed, whom I met there, and so away, Creed walking with me to White Hall, and there I took water and stayed at Michell's to drink. I home, and there to read very good things in Fuller's "Church History", and "Worthies", and so to supper, and after supper had much good discourse with W. Hewer (25), who supped with us, about the ticket office and the knaveries and extortions every day used there, and particularly of the business of Mr. Carcasse, whom I fear I shall find a very rogue. So parted with him, and then to bed.
Note 1. Two of our greatest poets have drawn the character of the Duke of Buckingham (39) in brilliant verse, and both have condemned him to infamy. There is enough in Pepys's reports to corroborate the main features of Dryden's (35) magnificent portrait of Zimri in "Absolom and Achitophel": "In the first rank of these did Zimri stand; A man so various that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome; Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong; Was everything by starts, and nothing long, But, in the course of one revolving moon, Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon; Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking, * * * * * * * He laughed himself from Court, then sought relief By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief". Pope's facts are not correct, and hence the effect of his picture is impaired. In spite of the duke's constant visits to the Tower, Charles II still continued his friend; but on the death of the King (36), expecting little from James, he retired to his estate at Helmsley, in Yorkshire, to nurse his property and to restore his constitution. He died on April 16th, 1687, at Kirkby Moorside, after a few days' illness, caused by sitting on the damp grass when heated from a fox chase. The scene of his death was the house of a tenant, not "the worst inn's worst room" ("Moral Essays", epist. iii.). He was buried in Westminster Abbey.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 29 July 1667. 29 Jul 1667. Up, and with Sir W. Batten (66) to St. James's, to Sir W. Coventry's (39) chamber; where, among other things, he come to me, and told me that he had received my yesterday's letters, and that we concurred very well in our notions; and that, as to my place which I had offered to resign of the Victualling, he had drawn up a letter at the same time for the Duke of York's (33) signing for the like places in general raised during this war; and that he had done me right to the Duke of York (33), to let him know that I had, of my own accord, offered to resign mine. The letter do bid us to do all things, particularizing several, for the laying up of the ships, and easing the King (37) of charge; so that the war is now professedly over.
By and by up to the Duke of York's (33) chamber; and there all the talk was about Jordan's coming with so much indiscretion, with his four little frigates and sixteen fire-ships from Harwich, to annoy the enemy. His failures were of several sorts, I know not which the truest: that he come with so strong a gale of wind, that his grapplings would not hold; that he did come by their lee; whereas if he had come athwart their hawse, they would have held; that they did not stop a tide, and come up with a windward tide, and then they would not have come so fast. Now, there happened to be Captain Jenifer by, who commanded the Lily in this business, and thus says that, finding the Dutch not so many as they expected, they did not know but that there were more of them above, and so were not so earnest to the setting upon these; that they did do what they could to make the fire-ships fall in among the enemy; and, for their lives, neither Sir J. Jordan nor others could, by shooting several times at them, make them go in; and it seems they were commanded by some idle fellows, such as they could of a sudden gather up at Harwich; which is a sad consideration that, at such a time as this, where the saving the reputation of the whole nation lay at stake, and after so long a war, the King (37) had not credit to gather a few able men to command these vessels. He says, that if they had come up slower, the enemy would, with their boats and their great sloops, which they have to row with a great many men, they would, and did, come and cut up several of our fireships, and would certainly have taken most of them, for they do come with a great provision of these boats on purpose, and to save their men, which is bravely done of them, though they did, on this very occasion, shew great fear, as they say, by some men leaping overboard out of a great ship, as these were all of them of sixty and seventy guns a-piece, which one of our fireships laid on board, though the fire did not take. But yet it is brave to see what care they do take to encourage their men to provide great stores of boats to save them, while we have not credit to find one boat for a ship. And, further, he told us that this new way used by Deane (33), and this Sir W. Coventry (39) observed several times, of preparing of fire-ships, do not do the work; for the fire, not being strong and quick enough to flame up, so as to take the rigging and sails, lies smothering a great while, half an hour before it flames, in which time they can get her off safely, though, which is uncertain, and did fail in one or two this bout, it do serve to burn our own ships. But what a shame it is to consider how two of our ships' companies did desert their ships for fear of being taken by their boats, our little frigates being forced to leave them, being chased by their greater! And one more company did set their ship on fire, and leave her; which afterwards a Feversham fisherman come up to, and put out the fire, and carried safe into Feversham, where she now is, which was observed by the Duke of York (33), and all the company with him, that it was only want of courage, and a general dismay and abjectness of spirit upon all our men; and others did observe our ill management, and God Almighty's curse upon all that we have in hand, for never such an opportunity was of destroying so many good ships of theirs as we now had. But to see how negligent we were in this business, that our fleete of Jordan's should not have any notice where Spragg was, nor Spragg of Jordan's, so as to be able to meet and join in the business, and help one another; but Jordan, when he saw Spragg's fleete above, did think them to be another part of the enemy's fleete! While, on the other side, notwithstanding our people at Court made such a secret of Jordan's design that nobody must know it, and even this Office itself must not know it; nor for my part I did not, though Sir W. Batten (66) says by others' discourse to him he had heard something of it; yet De Ruyter (60), or he that commanded this fleete, had notice of it, and told it to a fisherman of ours that he took and released on Thursday last, which was the day before our fleete came to him. But then, that, that seems most to our disgrace, and which the Duke of York (33) did take special and vehement notice of, is, that when the Dutch saw so many fire-ships provided for them, themselves lying, I think, about the Nore, they did with all their great ships, with a North-east wind, as I take it they said, but whatever it was, it was a wind that we should not have done it with, turn down to the Middle-ground; which the Duke of York (33) observed, never was nor would have been undertaken by ourselves. And whereas some of the company answered, it was their great fear, not their choice that made them do it, the Duke of York (33) answered, that it was, it may be, their fear and wisdom that made them do it; but yet their fear did not make them mistake, as we should have done, when we have had no fear upon us, and have run our ships on ground. And this brought it into my mind, that they managed their retreat down this difficult passage, with all their fear, better than we could do ourselves in the main sea, when the Duke of Albemarle (58) run away from the Dutch, when the Prince was lost, and the Royal Charles and the other great ships come on ground upon the Galloper. Thus, in all things, in wisdom, courage, force, knowledge of our own streams, and success, the Dutch have the best of us, and do end the war with victory on their side. The Duke of York (33) being ready, we into his closet, but, being in haste to go to the Parliament House, he could not stay. So we parted, and to Westminster Hall, where the Hall full of people to see the issue of the day, the King (37) being come to speak to the House to-day.
One thing extraordinary was, this day a man, a Quaker, came naked through the Hall, only very civilly tied about the privities to avoid scandal, and with a chafing-dish of fire and brimstone burning upon his head, did pass through the Hall, crying, "Repent! repent!" I up to the Painted Chamber, thinking to have got in to have heard the King's speech, but upon second thoughts did not think it would be worth the crowd, and so went down again into the Hall and there walked with several, among others my Lord Rutherford, who is come out of Scotland, and I hope I may get some advantage by it in reference to the business of the interest of the great sum of money I paid him long since without interest. But I did not now move him in it.
But presently comes down the House of Commons, the King (37) having made then a very short and no pleasing speech to them at all, not at all giving them thanks for their readiness to come up to town at this busy time; but told them that he did think he should have had occasion for them, but had none, and therefore did dismiss them to look after their own occasions till October; and that he did wonder any should offer to bring in a suspicion that he intended to rule by an army, or otherwise than by the laws of the land, which he promised them he would do; and so bade them go home and settle the minds of the country in that particular; and only added, that he had made a peace which he did believe they would find reasonable, and a good peace, but did give them none of the particulars thereof. Thus they are dismissed again to their general great distaste, I believe the greatest that ever Parliament was, to see themselves so fooled, and the nation in certain condition of ruin, while the King (37), they see, is only governed by his lust, and women, and rogues about him. The Speaker, they found, was kept from coming in the morning to the House on purpose, till after the King (37) was come to the House of Lords, for fear they should be doing anything in the House of Commons to the further dissatisfaction of the King (37) and his courtiers. They do all give up the Kingdom for lost that I speak to; and do hear what the King (37) says, how he and the Duke of York (33) do do what they can to get up an army, that they may need no more Parliaments: and how my Baroness Castlemayne (26) hath, before the late breach between her and the King (37), said to the King (37) that he must rule by an army, or all would be lost, and that Bab. May (39) hath given the like advice to the King (37), to crush the English gentlemen, saying that £300 a-year was enough for any man but them that lived at Court. I am told that many petitions were provided for the Parliament, complaining of the wrongs they have received from the Court and courtiers, in city and country, if the Parliament had but sat: and I do perceive they all do resolve to have a good account of the money spent before ever they give a farthing more: and the whole kingdom is everywhere sensible of their being abused, insomuch that they forced their Parliament-men to come up to sit; and my cozen Roger (50) told me that (but that was in mirth) he believed, if he had not come up, he should have had his house burned. The Kingdom never in so troubled a condition in this world as now; nobody pleased with the peace, and yet nobody daring to wish for the continuance of the war, it being plain that nothing do nor can thrive under us. Here I saw old good Mr. Vaughan (63), and several of the great men of the Commons, and some of them old men, that are come 200 miles, and more, to attend this session-of Parliament; and have been at great charge and disappointments in their other private business; and now all to no purpose, neither to serve their country, content themselves, nor receive any thanks from the King (37). It is verily expected by many of them that the King (37) will continue the prorogation in October, so as, if it be possible, never to have [this] Parliament more. My Lord Bristoll (54) took his place in the House of Lords this day, but not in his robes; and when the King (37) come in, he withdrew but my Lord of Buckingham (39) was there as brisk as ever, and sat in his robes; which is a monstrous thing, that a man proclaimed against, and put in the Tower, and all, and released without any trial, and yet not restored to his places.
But, above all, I saw my Lord Mordaunt (41) as merry as the best, that it seems hath done such further indignities to Mr. Taylor' since the last sitting of Parliament as would hang (him), if there were nothing else, would the King (37) do what were fit for him; but nothing of that is now likely to be. After having spent an hour or two in the hall, my cozen Roger (50) and I and Creed to the Old Exchange, where I find all the merchants sad at this peace and breaking up of the Parliament, as men despairing of any good to the nation, which is a grievous consideration; and so home, and there cozen Roger (50) and Creed to dinner with me, and very merry:—but among other things they told me of the strange, bold sermon of Dr. Creeton yesterday, before the King (37); how he preached against the sins of the Court, and particularly against adultery, over and over instancing how for that single sin in David, the whole nation was undone; and of our negligence in having our castles without ammunition and powder when the Dutch come upon us; and how we have no courage now a-days, but let our ships be taken out of our harbour. Here Creed did tell us the story of the dwell last night, in Coventgarden, between Sir H. Bellasses (28) and Tom Porter. It is worth remembering the silliness of the quarrell, and is a kind of emblem of the general complexion of this whole kingdom at present. They two it seems dined yesterday at Sir Robert Carr's (30), where it seems people do drink high, all that come. It happened that these two, the greatest friends in the world, were talking together: and Sir H. Bellasses talked a little louder than ordinary to Tom Porter, giving of him some advice. Some of the company standing by said, "What! are they quarrelling, that they talk so high?" Sir H. Bellasses hearing it, said, "No!" says he: "I would have you know that I never quarrel, but I strike; and take that as a rule of mine!"—"How?" says Tom Porter, "strike! I would I could see the man in England that durst give me a blow!" with that Sir H. Bellasses did give him a box of the eare; and so they were going to fight there, but were hindered. And by and by Tom Porter went out; and meeting Dryden (35) the poet, told him of the business, and that he was resolved to fight Sir H. Bellasses presently; for he knew, if he did not, they should be made friends to-morrow, and then the blow would rest upon him; which he would prevent, and desired Dryden (35) to let him have his boy to bring him notice which way Sir H. Bellasses goes.
By and by he is informed that Sir H. Bellasses's (28) coach was coming: so Tom Porter went down out of the Coffee-house where he stayed for the tidings, and stopped the coach, and bade Sir H. Bellasses come out. "Why", says H. Bellasses, "you will not hurt me coming out, will you?"—"No", says Tom Porter. So out he went, and both drew: and H. Bellasses having drawn and flung away his scabbard, Tom Porter asked him whether he was ready? The other answering him he was, they fell to fight, some of their acquaintance by. They wounded one another, and H. Bellasses so much that it is feared he will die: and finding himself severely wounded, he called to Tom Porter, and kissed him, and bade him shift for himself; "for", says he, "Tom, thou hast hurt me; but I will make shift to stand upon my legs till thou mayest withdraw, and the world not take notice of you, for I would not have thee troubled for what thou hast done". And so whether he did fly or no I cannot tell: but Tom Porter shewed H. Bellasses that he was wounded too: and they are both ill, but H. Bellasses to fear of life. And this is a fine example; and H. Bellasses a Parliament-man too, and both of them most extraordinary friends! Among other discourse, my cozen Roger (50) told us a thing certain, that the Archbishop of Canterbury (69); that now is, do keep a wench, and that he is as very a wencher as can be; and tells us it is a thing publickly known that Sir Charles Sidley (28) had got away one of the Archbishop's wenches from him, and the Archbishop sent to him to let him know that she was his kinswoman, and did wonder that he would offer any dishonour to one related to him. To which Sir Charles Sidley is said to answer, "A pox take his Grace! pray tell his Grace that I believe he finds himself too old, and is afraid that I should outdo him among his girls, and spoil his trade". But he makes no more of doubt to say that the Archbishop is a wencher, and known to be so, which is one of the most astonishing things that I have heard of, unless it be, what for certain he says is true, that my Baroness Castlemayne (26) hath made a Bishop lately, namely,—her uncle, Dr. Glenham, who, I think they say, is Bishop of Carlisle; a drunken, swearing rascal, and a scandal to the Church; and do now pretend to be Bishop of Lincoln, in competition with Dr. Raynbow (59), who is reckoned as worthy a man as most in the Church for piety and learning: which are things so scandalous to consider, that no man can doubt but we must be undone that hears of them.
After dinner comes W. How and a son of Mr. Pagett's to see me, with whom I drank, but could not stay, and so by coach with cozen Roger (50) (who before his going did acquaint me in private with an offer made of his marrying of Mrs. Elizabeth Wiles, whom I know; a kinswoman of Mr. Honiwood's, an ugly old maid, but a good housewife; and is said to have £2500 to her portion; but if I can find that she hath but £2000, which he prays me to examine, he says he will have her, she being one he hath long known intimately, and a good housewife, and discreet woman; though I am against it in my heart, she being not handsome at all) and it hath been the very bad fortune of the Pepyses that ever I knew, never to marry an handsome woman, excepting Ned Pepys and Creed, set the former down at the Temple resolving to go to Cambridge to-morrow, and Creed and I to White Hall to the Treasury chamber there to attend, but in vain, only here, looking out of the window into the garden, I saw the King (37) (whom I have not had any desire to see since the Dutch come upon the coast first to Sheerness, for shame that I should see him, or he me, methinks, after such a dishonour) come upon the garden; with him two or three idle Lords; and instantly after him, in another walk, my Baroness Castlemayne (26), led by Bab. May: at which I was surprised, having but newly heard the stories of the King (37) and her being parted for ever. So I took Mr. Povy (53), who was there, aside, and he told me all, how imperious this woman is, and hectors the King (37) to whatever she will. It seems she is with child, and the King (37) says he did not get it: with that she made a slighting "puh" with her mouth, and went out of the house, and never come in again till the King (37) went to Sir Daniel Harvy's to pray her; and so she is come to-day, when one would think his mind should be full of some other cares, having but this morning broken up such a Parliament, with so much discontent, and so many wants upon him, and but yesterday heard such a sermon against adultery. But it seems she hath told the King (37), that whoever did get it, he should own it; and the bottom of the quarrel is this:—She is fallen in love with young Jermin who hath of late lain with her oftener than the King (37), and is now going to marry my Lady Falmouth; the King (37) he is mad at her entertaining Jermin, and she is mad at Jermin's going to marry from her: so they are all mad; and thus the Kingdom is governed! and they say it is labouring to make breaches between the Duke of Richmond and his lady that the King (37) may get her to him. But he tells me for certain that nothing is more sure than that the King (37), and Duke of York (33), and the Chancellor (58), are desirous and labouring all they can to get an army, whatever the King (37) says to the Parliament; and he believes that they are at last resolved to stand and fall all three together: so that he says match of the Duke of York (33) with the Chancellor's (58) daughter hath undone the nation. He tells me also that the King (37) hath not greater enemies in the world than those of his own family; for there is not an officer in the house almost but curses him for letting them starve, and there is not a farthing of money to be raised for the buying them bread. Having done talking with him I to Westminster Hall, and there talked and wandered up and down till the evening to no purpose, there and to the Swan, and so till the evening, and so home, and there to walk in the garden with my wife, telling her of my losing £300 a year by my place that I am to part with, which do a little trouble me, but we must live with somewhat more thrift, and so home to supper and to play on the flageolet, which do do very prettily, and so to bed. Many guns were heard this afternoon, it seems, at White Hall and in the Temple garden very plain; but what it should be nobody knows, unless the Dutch be driving our ships up the river. To-morrow we shall know.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 16 August 1667. 16 Aug 1667. Up, and at the office all the morning, and so at noon to dinner, and after dinner my wife and I to the Duke's playhouse, where we saw the new play acted yesterday, "The Feign Innocence, or Sir Martin Marr-all"; a play made by my Lord Duke of Newcastle, but, as every body says, corrected by Dryden (35). It is the most entire piece of mirth, a complete farce from one end to the other, that certainly was ever writ. I never laughed so in all my life. I laughed till my head [ached] all the evening and night with the laughing; and at very good wit therein, not fooling. The house full, and in all things of mighty content to me.
Thence to the New Exchange with my wife, where, at my bookseller's, I saw "The History of the Royall Society", which, I believe, is a fine book, and have bespoke one in quires.
So home, and I to the office a little, and so to my chamber, and read the history of 88 [See 10th of this month.] in Speede, in order to my seeing the play thereof acted to-morrow at the King's house.
So to supper in some pain by the sudden change of the weather cold and my drinking of cold drink, which I must I fear begin to leave off, though I shall try it as long as I can without much pain. But I find myself to be full of wind, and my anus to be knit together as it is always with cold. Every body wonders that we have no news from Bredah of the ratification of the peace; and do suspect that there is some stop in it.
So to bed.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 18 January 1668. 18 Jan 1668. At the office all the morning busy sitting. At noon home to dinner, where Betty Turner (15) dined with us, and after dinner carried my wife, her and Deb. to the 'Change, where they bought some things, while I bought "The Mayden Queene", a play newly printed, which I like at the King's house so well, of Mr. Dryden's (36), which he himself, in his preface, seems to brag of, and indeed is a good play.
So home again, and I late at the office and did much business, and then home to supper and to bed.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 19 June 1668. 19 Jun 1668. When between two and three in the morning we were waked with my maids crying out, "Fire, fire, in Markelane!" So I rose and looked out, and it was dreadful; and strange apprehensions in me, and us all, of being presently burnt. So we all rose; and my care presently was to secure my gold, and plate, and papers, and could quickly have done it, but I went forth to see where it was; and the whole town was presently in the streets; and I found it in a new-built house that stood alone in Minchin-lane, over against the Cloth-workers'-hall, which burned furiously: the house not yet quite finished; and the benefit of brick was well seen, for it burnt all inward, and fell down within itself; so no fear of doing more hurt.
So homeward, and stopped at Mr. Mills's, where he and she at the door, and Mrs. Turner (45), and Betty, and Mrs. Hollworthy, and there I stayed and talked, and up to the church leads, and saw the fire, which spent itself, till all fear over. I home, and there we to bed again, and slept pretty well, and about nine rose, and then my wife fell into her blubbering again, and at length had a request to make to me, which was, that she might go into France, and live there, out of trouble; and then all come out, that I loved pleasure and denied her any, and a deal of do; and I find that there have been great fallings out between my father and her, whom, for ever hereafter, I must keep asunder, for they cannot possibly agree. And I said nothing, but, with very mild words and few, suffered her humour to spend, till we begun to be very quiet, and I think all will be over, and friends, and so I to the office, where all the morning doing business. Yesterday I heard how my Lord Ashly (46) is like to die, having some imposthume in his breast, that he hath been fain to be cut into the body1.
At noon home to dinner, and thence by coach to White Hall, where we attended the Duke of York (34) in his closet, upon our usual business. And thence out, and did see many of the Knights of the Garter, with the King (38) and Duke of York (34), going into the Privychamber, to elect the Elector of Saxony (55) into that Order, who, I did hear the Duke of York (34) say, was a good drinker: I know not upon what score this compliment is done him.
Thence with W. Pen (47), who is in great pain of the gowte, by coach round by Holborne home, he being at every kennel full of pain.
Thence home, and by and by comes my wife and Deb.
So to supper and talk, and all in good humour, and then to bed, where I slept not well, from my apprehensions of some trouble about some business of Mr. Povy's (54) he told me of the other day.
Note 1. "Such an operation was performed in this year, after a consultation of medical men, and chiefly by Locke's advice, and the wound was afterwards always kept open, a silver pipe being inserted. This saved Lord Ashley's (46) life, and gave him health"-Christie's Life of the first Earl of Shaftesbury, vol. ii., p. 34. 'Tapski' was a name given to Shaftesbury in derision, and vile defamers described the abscess, which had originated in a carriage accident in Holland, as the result of extreme dissipation. Lines by Duke, a friend and imitator of Dryden (36): "The working ferment of his active mind, In his weak body's cask with pain confined, Would burst the rotten vessel where 'tis pent, But that 'tis tapt to give the treason vent"..
Diary of Samuel Pepys 22 June 1668. 22 Jun 1668. Up, and with Balty (28) to St. James's, and there presented him to Mr. Wren (39) about his being Muster-Master this year, which will be done. So up to wait on the Duke of York (34), and thence, with W. Coventry (40), walked to White Hall good discourse about the Navy, where want of money undoes us.
Thence to the Harp and Ball I to drink, and so to the Coffee-house in Covent Garden; but met with nobody but Sir Philip Howard (37), who shamed me before the whole house there, in commendation of my speech in Parliament, and thence I away home to dinner alone, my wife being at her tailor's, and after dinner comes Creed, whom I hate, to speak with me, and before him comes Mrs. Daniel about business....[Note. Missing text "and yo did tocar su cosa with mi mano"] She gone, Creed and I to the King's playhouse, and saw an act or two of the new play ["Evening's Love"] again, but like it not. Calling this day at Herringman's, he tells me Dryden (36) do himself call it but a fifth-rate play.
Thence with him to my Lord Brouncker's (48), where a Council of the Royall Society; and there heard Mr. Harry Howard's (39) noble offers about ground for our College, and his intentions of building his own house there most nobly. My business was to meet Mr. Boyle (41), which I did, and discoursed about my eyes; and he did give me the best advice he could, but refers me to one Turberville (56), of Salsbury, lately come to town, which I will go to1.
Thence home, where the streets full, at our end of the town, removing their wine against the Act begins, which will be two days hence, to raise the price. I did get my store in of Batelier this night.
So home to supper and to bed.
Note 1. Daubigny Turberville (56), of Oriel College; created M.D. at Oxford,1660. He was a physician of some eminence, and, dying at Salisbury on the 21st April, 1696, aged eighty-five, he was buried in the cathedral, where his monument remains. Cassan, in his "Lives of the Bishops of Sarum", part iii., p. 103, has reprinted an interesting account of Turberville, from the "Memoir of Bishop Seth Ward", published in 1697, by Dr. Walter Pope. Turberville (56) was born at Wayford, co. Somerset, in 1612, and became an expert oculist; and probably Pepys received great benefit from his advice, as his vision does not appear to have failed during the many years that he lived after discontinuing the Diary. The doctor died rich, and subsequently to his decease his sister Mary, inheriting all his prescriptions, and knowing how to use them, practised as an oculist in London with good reputation. B.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 15 September 1668. 15 Sep 1668. Up mighty betimes, my wife and people, Mercer lying here all night, by three o'clock, and I about five; and they before, and I after them, to the coach in Bishopsgate Street, which was not ready to set out.
So took wife and Mercer and Deb. and W. Hewer (26) (who are all to set out this day for Cambridge, to cozen Roger Pepys's (51), to see Sturbridge Fayre); and I shewed them the Exchange, which is very finely carried on, with good dispatch. So walked back and saw them gone, there being only one man in the coach besides them; and so home to the Office, where Mrs. Daniel come and staid talking to little purpose with me to borrow money, but I did not lend her any, having not opportunity para hater allo thing mit her. At the office all the morning, and at noon dined with my people at home, and so to the office again a while, and so by water to the King's playhouse, to see a new play, acted but yesterday, a translation out of French by Dryden (37), called "The Ladys a la Mode" so mean a thing as, when they come to say it would be acted again to-morrow, both he that said it, Beeson, and the pit fell a-laughing, there being this day not a quarter of the pit full.
Thence to St. James's and White Hall to wait on the Duke of York (34), but could not come to speak to him till time to go home, and so by water home, and there late at the office and my chamber busy, and so after a little supper to bed.
Diary of Samuel Pepys 20 September 1668. 20 Sep 1668. Lord's Day. Up, and to set some papers to rights in my chamber, and the like in my office, and so to church, at our own church, and heard but a dull sermon of one Dr. Hicks, who is a suitor to Mrs. Hovell, the widow of our turner of the Navy; thence home to dinner, staying till past one o'clock for Harris (34), whom I invited, and to bring Shadwell the poet with him; but they come not, and so a good dinner lost, through my own folly. And so to dinner alone, having since church heard the boy read over Dryden's (37) Reply to Sir R. Howard's (42) Answer, about his Essay of Poesy, and a letter in answer to that; the last whereof is mighty silly, in behalf of Howard1.
Thence walked forth and got a coach and to visit Mrs. Pierce, with whom, and him, I staid a little while, and do hear how the Duchesse of Monmouth is at this time in great trouble of the shortness of her lame leg, which is likely to grow shorter and shorter, that she will never recover it.
Thence to St. Margaret's Church, thinking to have seen Betty Michell, but she was not there. So back, and walked to Gray's Inn walks a while, but little company; and so over the fields to Clerkenwell, to see whether I could find that the fair Botelers do live there still, I seeing Frances the other day in a coach with Cary Dillon (41), her old servant, but know not where she lives. So walked home, and there walked in the garden an hour, it being mighty pleasant weather, and so took my Lady Pen (44) and Mrs. Markham home with me and sent for Mrs. Turner (45), and by and by comes Sir W. Pen (47) and supped with me, a good supper, part of my dinner to-day. They gone, Mrs. Turner (45) staid an hour talking with me.... [Note. Missing text "and yo did now the first time tocar her cosa with my hand and did make her do the like con su hand to my thing, whereto neither did she show any aversion really, but a merry kind of opposition, but yo did both
Note 1. The title of the letter is as follows: "A Letter from a Gentleman to the Honourable Ed. Howard, Esq., occasioned by a Civiliz'd Epistle of Mr. Dryden's (37) before his Second Edition of his Indian Emperour. In the Savoy, printed by Thomas Newcomb, 1668". The "Civiliz'd Epistle" was a caustic attack on Sir Robert Howard; and the Letter is signed, "Sir, your faithful and humble servant, R. F".-i.e., Richard Flecknoe.
On 16 Jul 1669 Thomas Howard 1st Earl Berkshire 1587-1669 (81) died. Charles Howard 2nd Earl Berkshire 1615-1679 (54) succeeded 2nd Earl Berkshire 2C 1626. Dorothy Savage Countess Berkshire by marriage Countess Berkshire.
John Evelyn's Diary 27 June 1674. 27 Jun 1674. Mr. Dryden (42), the famous poet and now laureate, came to give me a visit. It was the anniversary of my marriage, and the first day I went into my new little cell and cabinet, which I built below toward the south court, at the east end of the parlor.
In Apr 1679 Charles Howard 2nd Earl Berkshire 1615-1679 (64) died. Thomas Howard 3rd Earl Berkshire 1619-1706 (59) succeeded 3rd Earl Berkshire 2C 1626.
John Evelyn's Diary 17 June 1683. 17 Jun 1683. I dined at the Earl of Sunderland's (41) with the Earls of Bath (54), Castlehaven (66), Lords Viscount Falconberg (56), Falkland (27), Bishop of London (27), the Grand Master of Malta, brother to the Duke de Vendôme (a young wild spark), and Mr. Dryden (51), the poet. After evening prayer, I walked in the park with my Lord Clarendon, where we fell into discourse of the Bishop of Salisbury (Dr. Seth Ward) (66), his subtlety, etc. Dr. Durell, late Dean of Windsor, being dead, Dr. Turner (92), one of the Duke's chaplains was made dean.
I visited my Lady Arlington (49), groom of the stole to her Majesty (44), who being hardly set down to supper, word was brought her that the Queen (44) was going into the park to walk, it being now near eleven at night; the alarm caused the Countess (49) to rise in all haste, and leave her supper to us.
By this one may take an estimate of the extreme slavery and subjection that courtiers live in, who had not time to eat and drink at their pleasure. It put me in mind of Horace's "Mouse", and to bless God for my own private condition.
Here was Monsieur de l'Angle, the famous minister of Charenton, lately fled from the persecution in France, concerning the deplorable condition of the Protestants there.
John Evelyn's Diary 06 January 1686. 06 Jan 1686. Passed the Privie Seale, amongst others, the creation of Mrs. Sedley J (concubine to) Countesse of Dorchester (28), which the Queene took very grievously (27), so as for two dinners, standing neere her I observed she hardly eate one morsel, nor spake one word to the King (52), or to any about her, tho' at other times she us'd to be extreamly pleasant, full of discourse and good humour. The Roman Catholics were also very angry, because they had so long valu'd the sanctity of their religion and proselytes. Dryden (54) the famous playwriter, and his two sonns, and Mrs. Nelly (35) (Misse to ye late) were said to go to masse; such proselytes were no greate losse to the church. This night was burnt to the ground my Lord Mountague's (75) palace in Bloomsbury, than wch for painting and furniture there was nothing more glorious in England. This happen'd by the negligence of a servant, airing, as they call it, some of the goods by the fire in a moist season; indeede so wet and mild a winter had scarce ben seene in man's memory. At this Seale there also pass'd the creation of Sr H. Walgrave (25) to be a Peere. He had married one of the King's natural daughters (19) by Mrs. Churchill (48). These two Seales my brother Commissioners pass'd in the morning before I came to towne, at. wch I was not displeas'd. We likewise pass'd Privy Seales for 5.2/6,000 upon severall accounts, pensions, guards, wardrobes, pri vie purse, &c. besides divers pardons, and one more wch I must not forget (and wch by Providence I was not present at) one Mr. Lytcott to be Secretary to the Ambassador to Rome. We being three Commissioners, any two were a quorum.
Before 1691. John Riley Painter 1646-1691 (45). Portrait of John Dryden Poet 1631-1700 (59).
Around 1693. Godfrey Kneller 1646-1723 (46). Portrait of John Dryden Poet 1631-1700 (61).
John Evelyn's Diary 11 January 1694. 11 Jan 1694. Supped at Mr. Edward Sheldon's, where was Mr. Dryden (62), the poet, who now intended to write no more plays, being intent on his translation of Virgil. He read to us his prologue and epilogue to his valedictory play now shortly to be acted.
Around 1697. Godfrey Kneller 1646-1723 (50). Portrait of John Dryden Poet 1631-1700 (65).
On 01 May 1700 John Dryden Poet 1631-1700 (68) died.
The Huntingdon Peerage Chapter IX: Ferdinando Sixth Earl of Huntingdon. The loss of two sons, it may be conceived, was sufficiently distressing to a parent's feelings, but a still severer trial was reserved for them. Little more than two years after, on the 24th of June, 1649, Lord Henry, the eldest son, just in the flower of youth, and the love and admiration of all who knew him, was also cut off. He died of the small-pox, in his twentieth year, under the additional grief to his parents of his being then an only son, and, for a climax of affliction, on the very eve of his nuptials. The premature death of is amiable young nobleman, who, to the sweetest disposition and the most polished manners, added great proficiency in literature and a promise of uncommon talents, was a subject of universal lamentation and sympathy. Several of the most distinguished characters of that period, whether for worth, abilities, or elevated rank, joined the homage of their regrets, and paid "the meed of a melodious tear" to his Lordship's memory. Nearly an hundred elegiac poems were composed on the melancholy occasion, and afterwards published under the title of "Lachrymae Musarum; the Tears of the Muses; expressed in Elegies written by divers Persona of Nobility and Worth, upon the Death of the most hopeful Henry, Lord Hastings, only Son of the Right Honourable Ferdinando Earl of Huntingdon, Heir-general to the high-born Prince George, Duke of Clarence, Brother to King Edward the Fourth: collected and set forth by R. B. 1649". Among the eminent names, contributors to this collection, we find Lord Falkland, Dryden, Marvel, Herrick, Denham, the Honourable Ralph Montagu, and many others who emulated each other in celebrating the virtues of the deceased, and enshrining his character in immortal verse. A few select flowers, transplanted from this funereal garland of the Muses, cannot be deemed exotics here.
The following epitaphs were proposed:
Here lies the age's paramount, the store Of Albion's shame, because it mourns no more, And since the fate is so, if for his fall We cannot weep enough, our children shall. J. Rossz.
Tread off, profaner feet! forbear To press this hallowed mould, where lies Firm virtue's and high honour's heir, The darling of the courteous skies, Who, by rare parts, the flight of fame In life outwent; in death his name. Thomas Bancroft.
Three royal Henries, sprung from Huntingdon, We saw alive: the first and last are gone Bright saints to heaven, above all fancy'd spheres. To meet their sovereign in that House of Peers. The third God's hand by wonder hath preserved. In whom their honour trebly is reserved. So Sybil's books consumed, the last contains Their precious truths, and treble value gains. Howe'er we sadly mourn, his nephew's fate Makes widowed England still more desolate. Oh, never such a son to parent's mind! Oh, never subject loyaller inclined! Oh, none more pious, none more man, so soon Ripe for his set, ere raised to half his noon. That mightier hand that stopped the mighty sun. Canst thou his circle sooner make him run? A varied fever had surprised his head. And death ensued when royal blood he bled; Bodies live not when head and heart decays. Where all their veins are right Basilicas; The fountain dried, how should the channel run? Good night to stars when darkened is the sun. Thus royal, loyal, leam'd, lov'd Hastings lies, All good men's loss, to saints a glorious prize." Thomas Pestellus, filius.
Upon the Death of Lord Hastings, by Dryden. Must noble Hastings immaturely die, The honour of his ancient family. Beauty and learning thus together meet. To bring a winding for a wedding sheet? Must virtue prove death's harbinger? must she. With him expiring, feel mortality? Is death, sin's wages, grace's now? shall art Make us more learned, only to depart? If merit be disease; if virtue death; To be good, not to be; who'd then bequeath Himself to discipline? who'd not esteem Labour a crime? study self-murther deem?Our noble ypu|h.now have pretence to be Dunces securely, ignorant heathily. Rare linguist whose worth speaks itself whose praise Though not his own, all tongues besides do raise: Than whom great Alexander miay seem less; Who conquer'd mens but not their languages. In his mouth nations spake; his tongue might be Interpreter to Greece, France, Italy. His native soil Was the four parts o' the earth; All Europe was too narrow for his birth. A young apostle; and, with reverence may I speak't inspir'd with gift of tongues, as they. Nature gave him, a child, what men in vain Oft strive, by art though furthered, to obtain. His body was an orb, his sublime soul Did move on virtue's and on learning's pole: Whose regular motions better to our view. Than Archimedes' sphere, the heavens did shew. Graces and virtues, languages and arts. Beauty and learning, fill'd up all the parts. Heaven's gifts, which do like falling stars appear Scatter'd in others; all, as in their sphere. Were fix'd, conglobate in his soul: and thence Shone through his body, with sweet influence; Letting their glories so on each limb fall. The whole frame rendered was celestial. Come, learned Ptolemy, and trial make. If thou this hero's altitude cans't take: But that transcends thy skill; thrice happy all. Could we but prove thus astronomical. Liv'd Tycho now, struck with this ray, which shone More bright i' the morn', than others beam at noon, He'd take his astrolabe, and seek out here What new star 'twas did gild our hemisphere. Replenish'd then with such rare gifts as these. Where was room left for such a foul disease? The nation's sin hath drawn that veil, which shrouds Our day-spring in so sad benighting clouds. Heaven would no longer trust its pledge; but thus Recall'd it; rapt its Ganymede from us. Was there no milder way but the small-pox, The very filthiness of Pandora's box? So many spots, like næves on Venus* soil. One jewel set off with so many a foil; Blisters with pride swell'd, which through's flesh did sprout Like rose-buds, stuck i' the lilly skin about. Each little pimple had a tear in it, To wail the fault its rising did commit: Which, rebel like, with its own lord at strife, Thus made an insurrection 'gainst his life. Or were these gems sent to adorn his skin. The cabinet of a richer soul within? No comet need foretel his change drew on. Whose corpse might seem a constellation. O! had he died of old, how great a strife Had been, who from his death should draw their life? Who should, by one rich draught, become whate'er Seneca, Cato, Numa, Csesar, were? Learn'd, virtuous, pious, great; and have by this An universal metempsychosis. Must all these aged sires in one funeral Expire? all die in one so young, so small? Who, had he liv'd his life out, his great fame Had swol'n 'bove any Greek or Roman name. But hasty winter, with one blast, hath brought The hopes of autumn, summer, spring, to nought Thus fades the oak i' the sprig, i' the blade the corn. Thus without young, this Phoenix dies, new bom. Must then old three-legg'd grey-beards with their gout, Catarrhs, rheums, aches, live three ages out? Time's offals, only fit for the hospital! Or to hang antiquaries' rooms withal! Must drunkards, lechers, spent with sinning, live With such helps as broths, possets, physic give? None live, but such as should die? shall we meet With none but ghostly fathers in the street? Grief makes me rail; sorrow will force its way; And show'rs of tears tempestuous sighs best lay. The tongue may fail; but overflowing eyes Will weep out lasting streams of elegies.
But thou, O virgin-widow, left alone Now thy belov'd, heaven-ravish'd spouse is gone, Whose skilful sire in vain strove to apply Med'cines, when thy balm was no remedy. With greater than Platonic love, O wed His soul, though not his body, to thy bed: Let that make thee a mother; bring thou forth The ideas of his virtue, knowledge, worth; Transcribe the original in new copies; give Hastings o' the better part: so shall he live In's nobler half; and the great grandsire be Of an heroic divine progeny: An issue, which to eternity shall last, Yet but the irradiations which he cast. Erect no mausoleums: for his best Monument is his spouse's marble breast.