Chapter III: Part 3

His lordship succeeded Sir Christopher Hatton, in the Chancellorship of the university of Oxford, in opposition to Robert Devereux, earl of Essex, Master of the Horse to the Queen, who a little before was incorporated master of arts in the said university, to capacitate him for that office; but on receipt of letters from her Majesty in favour of lord Buckhurst, the Academicians elected him Chancellor on the 17th of December following. On the death of lord Burleigh, the Queen considering the great services he had done his country, which had cost him immense expences, was pleased to constitute him in the 41st year of her reign, Lord High Treasurer of England: In the succeeding year 1599, he was in commission with Sir Thomas Egerton, Lord Chancellor, and the earl of Essex, Earl-Marshal, for negotiating affairs with the Senate of Denmark, as also in a special commission for suppressing schism, and afterwards when libels were dispersed by the earl of Essex and his faction against the Queen, intimating that her Majesty took little care of the government, and altogether neglected the state of Ireland,[7] his lordship engaged in a vindication of her Majesty, and made answers to these libels, representing how brave and well regulated an army had been sent into Ireland, compleatly furnished with all manner of provisions, and like wise that her Majesty had expended on that war in six months time, the sum of 600,000 l. which lord Essex must own to be true. He suspected that earl's mutinous designs, by a greater concourse of people resorting to his house than ordinary, and sent his son to pay him a visit,[8] and to desire him to be careful of the company he kept. Essex being sensible that his scheme was already discovered by the penetrating eye of lord Buckhurst, he and his friends entered upon new measures, and breaking out into an open rebellion, were obliged to surrender themselves prisoners. When that unfortunate favourite, together with the earl of Southampton, was brought to trial, lord Buckhurst was constituted on that occasion Lord High Steward of England, and passing sentence on the earl of Essex, his Lordship in a very eloquent speech desired him to implore the Queen's mercy. After this, it being thought necessary for the safety of the nation, that some of the leading conspirators should suffer death, his Lordship advised her Majesty to pardon the rest. Upon this he had a special commission granted him, together with secretary Cecil, and the earl of Nottingham, Lord High Admiral, to call before them all such as were concerned in the conspiracy with the earls of Essex and Southampton, and to treat and compound with such offenders for the redemption and composition of their lands. After the death of Queen Elizabeth, his lordship was concerned in taking the necessary measures for the security of the kingdom, the administration being devolved on him and other counsellors, who unanimously proclaimed 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's decease, and the recognition and proclamation of King James of Scotland: who had such a sense of lord Buckhurst's services, and superior abilities, that before his arrival in England, he ordered the renewal of his patent, as Lord High Treasurer for life. On the 13th of March next ensuing, he was created earl of Dorset, and constituted one of the commissioners for executing the office of Earl-Marshal of England, and for reforming sundry abuses in the College of Arms.

In the year 1608, this great man died suddenly at the Council-Table, Whitehall, after a bustling life devoted to the public weal; and the 26th of May following, his remains were deposited with great solemnity in Westminster Abbey, his funeral sermon being preached by Dr. Abbot, his chaplain, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury. Besides this celebrated sermon of the primate's, in which he is very lavish in his praise, Lord Chancellor Bacon, and Sir Robert Naunton, bestow particular encomiums upon him; and Sir Richard Paker observes, "That he had excellent parts, and in his place was exceeding industrious, and that he had heard many exchequer men say, there never was a better Treasurer, both for the King's profit, and the good of the subject."

By his dying suddenly at the Council-Table, his death was interpreted by some people in a mysterious manner;[9] but his head being opened, there were found in it certain little bags of water, which, whether by straining in his study the night before, in which he sat up till 11 o'clock, or otherwise by their own maturity, suddenly breaking, and falling upon his brain, produced his death, to the universal grief of the nation, for which he had spent his strength, and for whose interest, in a very immediate manner, he may be justly said to have fallen a sacrifice. Of all our court poets he seems to have united the greatest industry and variety of genius: It is seldom found, that the sons 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, which no doubt this cultivated genius would have accomplished, had he been less involved in court-affairs: but as he acted in so public a sphere, and discharged every office with inviolable honour, and consummate prudence, it is perhaps somewhat selfish in the lovers of poetry, to wish he had wrote more, and acted less. From him is descended the present noble family of the Dorsets; and it is remarkable, that all the descendants of this great man have inherited his taste for liberal arts and sciences, as well as his capacity for public business. An heir of his was the friend and patron of Dryden, and is stiled by Congreve the monarch of wit in his time, and the present age is happy in his illustrious posterity, rivalling for deeds of honour and renown the most famous of their ancestors.

* * * * *

INDUCTION to the MIRROR Of MAGISTRATES.

The wrathful winter hast'ning on apace,
With blustring blasts had all ybard the treene,
And old Saturnus with his frosty face
With chilling cold had pearst the tender greene:
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 soote fresh flowers wherewith the summers
queen,
Had clad the earth, new Boreas blasts down blew
And small fowls flocking in their songs did rew
The winter'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. præd.]

[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 for a 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 himself affirms in his book made in verse of the Worthiness of Wales. He was equally addicted to arts and arms; he had a liberal education, and inherited some fortune, real and personal; but he soon exhausted it, in a tedious and unfruitful attendance at court, for he gained no other equivalent for that mortifying dependance, but the honour of being retained a domestic in the family of lord Surry: during which time by his lordship's encouragement he commenced poet. Upon his master's death he betook himself to arms; was in many engagements, and was frequently wounded; he was twice a prisoner, and redeemed by the charity of two noble ladies, yet still languishing in distress, and bitterly complaining of fortune. Neither of his employments afforded him a patron, who would do justice to his obscure merit; and unluckily he was as unhappy in his amours as in his circumstances, some of his mistresses treating his addresses with contempt, perhaps, on account of his poverty; for tho' it generally happens that Poets have the greatest power in courtship, as they can celebrate their mistresses with more elegance than people of any other profession; yet it very seldom falls out that they marry successfully, as their needy circumstances naturally deter them from making advances to Ladies of such fashion as their genius and manners give them a right to address. This proved our author's case exactly; he made love to a widow named Browning, who possessed a very good jointure; but this lady being more in love with money than laurels, with wealth than merit, rejected his suit; which not a little discouraged him, as he had spent his money in hopes of effecting this match, which, to his great mortification, all his rhimes and sonnets could not do. He dedicated his vorks to Sir Christopher Hatton; but addresses of that nature don't always imply a provision for their author. It is conjectured that he died about the eleventh year of Queen Elizabeth, and according to Mr. Wood was buried near Skelton in the Chancel of 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 not wholly inharmonious. The Legend of Jane Shore is the most finished of all his works, from which I have taken a quotation. His death, according to the most probable conjecture, happened in 1570. Thus like a stone (says Winstanley) did he trundle about, but never gathered any moss, dying but poor, as may be seen by his epitaph in Mr. Camden's Remains, 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 in prose.

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 in prose, and dedicated to Walsingham secretary of state.

A light Bundle of lively Discourses, called Churchyard's Charge 1580, dedicated to his noble patron the Earl of 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, in which 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, calling them Churchyard's Chips, which he dedicated to Sir Christopher Hatton. He wrote beside,

The Tragedy of Thomas Moubray Duke of
Norfolk.
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?
My great mischance, my fall, and heavy state,
Is such a marke whereat each tongue doth shoot
That my good name, is pluckt up by the root,

[Footnote 1: Winst. 61.]

* * * * *

JOHN HEYWOOD

One of the first who wrote English plays, was a noted jester, of some reputation in poetry in his time. Wood says, that notwithstanding he was stiled Civis Londinensis, yet he laid a foundation of learning at Oxford, but the severity of an academical life not suitng with his airy genius, he retired to his native place, and had the honour to have a great intimacy with Sir Thomas More. It is said, that he had admirable skill both in instrumental and vocal music, but it is not certain whether he left any compositions of that sort behind him. He found means to become a favourite with King Henry VIII on account of the quickness of his conceits, and was well rewarded by that Monarch.[1] After the accession of Queen Mary to the throne, he was equally valued by her, and was admitted into the most intimate conversation with her, in diverting her by his merry stories, which he did, even when she lay languishing on her death-bed. After the decease of that princess, he being a bigotted Roman Catholic, and finding the protestant interest was like to prevail under the patronage of the renowned Queen Elizabeth, he sacrificed the enjoyment of living in his own country, to that of his religion: For he entered into a voluntary exile, and settled at Mechlin in Brabant.

The Play called the Four P's being a new and and merry interlude of a Palmer, Pardoner, Poticary, and Pedler--printed in an old English character in quarto, has in the title page the pictures of four men in old-fashioned habits, wrought off, from a wooden cut. He has likewise writ the following interludes.

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

This author also wrote a dialogue, containing the number in effect of all the proverbs in the English tongue, compact in a matter concerning two manner of marriages. London 1547, and 1598, in two parts in quarto, all writ in old English verse, and printed in an English character.

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

A fourth hundred of epigrams, printed in quarto, London 1598.

A fifth hundred of epigrams, printed in quarto, London 1598.

The Spider and Fly. A Parable of the Spider and Fly, London 1556, in a pretty thick quarto, all in old English verse. Before the title is the picture of John Heywood at full length, printed from a wooden cut, with a fur gown on, almost representing the fashion of that, belonging to a master of arts, but the bottom of the sleeve reach no lower than his knees; on his head 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 Non tam labore, condita, quam Lepore condita: The author of English poetry, speaking of several of our old English bards, says thus of our poet. "John Heywood for the mirth and quickness of conceit, more than any good learning that was in him, came to be well rewarded by the king."

That the reader may judge of his epigrams, to which certainly the writer just mentioned alludes, I shall present 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 than
thrift?
Yes sir, I take merry mirth, a golden gift.
Art thou Heywood, that hast made many mad
plays?
Yea many plays, few good works in my days.
Art thou Heywood, that hath made men merry
long?
Yea, and will, if I be made merry among.
Art thou Heywood, that would'st be made merry
now?
Yes, Sir, help me to it now, I beseech you.

He died at Mechlin, in the year 1565, and was buried there, leaving behind him several children, to whom he had given liberal education, one of whom is Jasper, who afterwards made a considerable figure, and became a 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's about the year 1510[1]. He was a lawyer, a historian, and a poet; he received his education at the university of Oxford, but of what college he was Wood himself has not been able to discover; he removed from thence to Lincolns'-Inn, where, by a diligent application to the law, he made considerable progress in his profession, and by the patronage of that great minister Cromwell Earl of Essex, who was himself a man of astonishing abilities, he soon made a figure at the bar. He was the menial servant of King Henry VIII.[2] and discharged his trust both in time of war and peace with great honour and gallantry, and shared that monarch's favour in a very considerable degree, who made him a grant in his own country, as an evidence of his affection for him. This grant of the King's happened in the year 1535; and yet in seven years afterwards, either thro' want of economy, or by a boundless confidence in his friends, he reduced his affairs to a very indifferent situation, which, perhaps, might be the reason, why he procured himself to be chosen Member for the Borough of Plymouth in the county of Devon,[3] in the Parliament summoned the thirty-third year of that King's reign. During the Sessions he had the misfortune to be arrested by 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 this insult offered to one of their Members, than they immediately enacted a settled rule, which from that accident took place, with respect to privilege, and ever since that time the Members of the House have been exempt from arrests for debt. His Majesty likewise resented the affront offered to his servant, and with the concurrence of the Parliament proceeded very severely against the Sheriffs.

Hollinshed in his chronicle, vol 2, p. 955, gives a very full account of it. Sir Thomas Moils, knight, then Speaker of the House, gave a special order to the Serjeant of the Parliament to repair to the Compter, and there demand the delivery of the prisoner. But notwithstanding this high authority, the officers in the city refused to obey the command, and after many altercations, they absolutely resisted the Serjeant, upon which a fray ensued within the Compter-gates, between Ferrars and the officers, not without mutual hurt, so that the Serjeant was driven to defend himself with his mace of arms, and had the crown of it broken with warding off a stroke; the Sheriffs of London so far from appeasing, fomented the quarrel, and with insolent language refused to deliver their prisoner: Upon which the Serjeant, thus abused, returned to the House and related what had happened. This circumstance so exasperated the Burgesses, that they all rose and went into the Upper House, and declared they would transact no more business till their Member was restored to them. They then commanded their Serjeant again to go to the Compter with his mace, and make a second demand by their authority.--The Sheriffs hearing that the Upper House hid concerned themselves in it, and being afraid of their resentment, restored the prisoner before the Serjeant had time to return to the Compter; but this did not satisfy the Burgesses, they summoned the Sheriffs before them, together with one White, who in contempt of their dignity had taken out a writ against Ferrars, and as a punishment for their insolence, they were sent to the Tower; and ever since that period, the power and privilege of the Commons have been on the increase.

Ferrars continued in high favour with Henry during the remainder of his reign, and seems to have stood upon good terms with Somerset Lord Protector in the beginning of Edward VI. since it appears that he attended the Protector in quality of one of the Commissioners of the Army, in his expedition into Scotland in 1548,[4] which, perhaps, might be owing to his being about the person of Prince Edward in his father's life-time. Another instance of this happened about four years afterwards, at a very critical juncture, for when the unfortunate Duke of Somerset lay under sentence of death, and it was observed that the people murmured and often gave testimonies of discontent, and that the King himself was very uneasy, those about him studied every method to quiet and amuse the one, to entertain and divert the other[5]. In order to this, at the entrance of Christmas holidays, Mr. Ferrars was proclaimed Lord Misrule, that is a kind of Prince of sports and pastimes, which office he discharged for twelve days together at Greenwich with great magnificence and address, and entirely to the King's satisfaction.

In this character, attended by the politest part of the Court, he made an excursion to London, where he was splendidly entertained by the Lord Mayor, and when he took his leave he had presents given him in token of respect. But notwithstanding he made so great figure in the diversions at court, yet he was no idle spectator of political affairs, and maintained his reputation with the learned world. He wrote the reign of Queen Mary, which tho' published in the name of Richard Grafton, in his chronicles; yet was certainly the performance of Ferrars, according to the annals of Stow, p. 632, whose authority in this case is very high. Our author was an historian, a lawyer, and a politician even in his poetry, as appears from these pieces of his which are inserted in the Mirror of Magistrates, and which are not inferior to any others that have found a place there[6]. In the early part of his life he wrote some tracts on 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 rights and properties of the subject. It seldom happens that when a man often changes his situation, or is forced to do so, that he continues to preserve the good opinion of different parties, but this was a happiness which Ferrars enjoyed. He was consulted by the learned as a candid critic, admired and loved by all who conversed with him.

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

Having this occasion to mention Thomas Lord Cromwell, the famous Earl of Essex, who was our author's warmest patron, I am persuaded my readers will forgive me a digression which will open to them the noblest instance of gratitude and honour in that worthy nobleman, that ever adorned the page of an historian, and which has been told with rapture by all who have writ of the times, particularly by Dr. Burnet in his history of the Reformation, and Fox in his Martyrology.--Thomas Lord Cromwell was the son of a Blacksmith at Putney, and was a soldier under the duke of Bourbon at the sacking of Rome in the year 1527. While he was abroad in a military character, in a very low station, he fell sick, and was unable to follow the army; he was observed one day by an Italian merchant to walk very pensive, and had all the appearance of penury and wretchedness: The merchant enquired of him the place of his birth, and fortune, and upon conversing with Cromwell, was so well pleased with the account he gave of himself, that he supplied him with money and credit to carry him to England. Cromwell afterwards made the most rapid progress in state-preferments ever known. Honours were multiplied thick upon him, and he came to have the dispensing of his sovereign's bounty. It happened, that this Italian merchant's circumstances decayed, and he came to England to sollicit the payment of some debts due to him by his correspondents; who finding him necessitous, were disposed to put him off, and take the advantage of his want, to avoid payment. This not a little embarrassed the foreigner, who was now in a situation forlorn enough. As providence would have it, lord Cromwell, then Earl of Essex, riding to court, saw this merchant walking with a dejected countenance, which put him in mind of his former situation. He immediately ordered one of his attendants to desire the merchant to come to his house. His lordship asked the merchant whether he knew him? he answered no: Cromwell then related the circumstance of the merchant's relieving a certain Englishman; and asked if he remembered it? The merchant answered, that he had always made it his business to do good, but did not remember that circumstance.--His lordship then enquired the reason of his coming to England, and upon the merchant's telling him his story, he so interested himself, as soon to procure the payment of all his debts.--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 then made him a munificent present, and asked him whether he chose to settle in England, or return to his own country. The foreigner chose the latter, and returned to spend the remainder of his days in competence and quiet, after having experienced in lord Essex as high an instance of generosity and gratitude as perhaps ever was known. This noble act of his lordship, employed, says Burnet, the pens of the belt writers at that time in panegyrics on so great a behaviour; the finest poets praised him; his most violent enemies could not help admiring him, and latest posterity shall hold the name of him in veneration, who was capable of so generous an act of honour. But to return to Ferrars.

In our author's history of the reign of Queen Mary, tho' he shews himself a great admirer of the personal virtues of that Princess, and a very discerning and able historian, yet it is every where evident that he was attached to the protestant interest; but more especially in the learned account he gives of Archbishop Cranmer's death, and Sir Thomas Wyat's insurrection[8]. The works of this author which are printed in the Mirror of Magistrates, are as follow;

The Fall of Robert Tresilian, Chief Justice of
England, for misconstruing the laws, and expounding
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, Duchess
of Gloucester.

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

The Tragedy of Edmund Duke of Somerset.

Among these the Complaints of Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester, who was banished for consulting Conjurers and Fortune-tellers about the Life of King Henry VI. and whose exile quickly made way for the murder of her husband, has of all his compositions been most admired; and from this I shall quote a few lines which that 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 pined me in a pyle,
Close by myself; in care alas the while.
There felt I first poor prisoner's hungry fare,
Much want, things skant, and stone walls, hard and bare.

The chaunge was straunge from silke and cloth of gold
To rugged fryze, my carcass for to cloath;
From prince's fare, and dainties hot and cold,
To rotten fish, and meats that one would loath:
The diet and dressing were much alike boath:
Bedding and lodging were all alike fine,
Such down it was as served well for swyne.

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

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

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

[Footnote 4: Patten's Journal of the Scotch expedition, 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, knight of 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 of Leicester.

Oxford had the honour of his education, under the tuition of Dr. Thomas Thornton, canon of Christ Church. At the university he remained till he was 17 years of age, and in June 1572 set out on his travels. On the 24th of August following, when the massacre fell out at Paris, he was then there, [1] and with other Englishmen took shelter in Sir Francis Walsingham's house, her Majesty's ambassador at that court. When this storm subsided, he departed from Paris, went through Lorrain, and by Strasburgh and Heydelburgh, to Francfort, in September or October following; where he settled for some time, and was entertained, agent for the duke of Saxony. At his return, her Majesty was one of the first who distinguished his great abilities, and, as proud of so rich a treasure, she sent him ambassador to Rodolph the emperor, to condole him on the death of Maximilian, and also to other princes of Germany. The next year, 1577, he went to the court 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; haughty and imperious in his behaviour, and always used the foreign ambassadors, who came to his court, with unsufferable insolence and superiority: At first he paid but little respect to Sidney on account of his youth, and seeming inexperience; but having had occasion to hear him talk, and give some account of the manners of every court where he had been, he was so struck with his vivacity, the propriety of his observations, and the lustre of his parts, that he ever afterwards used him with familiarity, and paid him more respect in his private character, than he did to any ambassador from whatever court. Some years after this, Wood observes, that in a book called Cabala, he set forth his reasons why the marriage of the queen with the duke of Anjou was disadvantageous to the nation. This address was written at the desire of the earl of Leicester, his uncle; upon which, a quarrel happened between him and the earl of Oxford, which perhaps occasioned his retirement from court for two years, when he wrote that renowned romance called Arcadia. We find him again in high favour, when the treaty of marriage was renewed; he was engaged with Sir Fulk Greville in tilting, for the diversion of the court; and at the departure of the duke of Anjou from England, he attended him to Antwerp [2].

On the 8th of January, 1582, he received the honour of knighthood from the queen; and in the beginning of the year 1585, he designed an expedition with Sir Francis Drake into America; but being hindered by the Queen, who thought the court would be deficient without him, he was made Governor of Flushing, (about that time delivered to the Queen for one of the cautionary-towns) and General of the Horse. In both these places of important trust, his behaviour in point of prudence and valour was irreproachable, and gained additional honour to his country, especially when in July 1586 he 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 of Poland, but the queen refused to promote this his glorious advancement, not from jealousy, but from the fear of losing the jewel of her times. He united the statesman, the scholar and the soldier; and as by the one, he purchased fame and honour in his life, so by the other, he has acquired immortality after death.

In the year 1586, when that unfortunate stand was made against the Spaniards before Zutphen, the 22d of September, when he was getting upon the third horse, having had two slain under him before, he was wounded with a musket-shot out of the trenches, which broke the bone of his thigh. The horse he rode upon was 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) to carry a martial commander to his grave. In this progress, passing along by the rest of the army where his uncle the [3] General was, and being faint with excess of bleeding, he called for drink, which was presently brought him; but as he was putting the bottle to his mouth, he saw a poor soldier carried along, who had been wounded at the same time, wishfully cast up his eyes at the bottle; whereupon Sir Philip took it from his own mouth before he drank, and delivered it to the poor man, with these words, "thy necessity is yet greater than mine;" and when he had assisted this poor soldier and fellow sufferer, as he called him, he was presently carried to Arnheim, where the principal surgeons of the camp attended him.

This generous behaviour of our gallant knight, ought not to pass without a panegyric. All his deeds of bravery, his politeness, his learning, and courtly accomplishments, do not reflect so much honour upon him, as this one disinterested, truly heroic action: It discovered so tender and benevolent a nature; a mind so fortified against pain; a heart so overflowing with generous sentiments, to relieve, in opposition to the violent call of his own necessities, a poor man languishing in the same distress, before himself, that as none can read it without the highest admiration of the wounded hero, so none I hope will think me extravagant in thus endeavouring to extol it. Bravery is often constitutional; fame may be the motive to feats of arms, a statesman and a courtier may act from interest; but a sacrifice so generous as this, can be made by none but those who are good as well as great, who are noble-minded, and gloriously compassionate, like Sidney.

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

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

At the same time count Hollock was under the care of a most excellent surgeon, for a wound in his throat by a musket shot; yet he neglected his own extremity to save his friend, and for that purpose sent him to Sir Philip. This surgeon notwithstanding, out of love to his master, returning one day to dress his wound, the count cheerfully asked him how Sir Philip did? he answered with a dejected look, that he was not well: At these words the count, as having more sense of his friend's wound than his own, cried out, "Away villain, never see my face again till you bring better news of that gentleman's recovery, for whose redemption, many such as I were happily lost."

Finding all the efforts of the surgeons in vain, he began to put no more confidence in their skill, and resigned himself with heroic patience to his fate. He called the ministers to him, who were all excellent men of different nations, and before them made such a confession of Christian faith, as no book, but the heart, can truly and feelingly deliver. Then calling for his will, and settling his temporal affairs, the last scene of this tragedy, was the parting between the two brothers. Sir Philip exerted all his soul in endeavouring to suppress his sorrow, in which affection and nature were too powerful for him, while the other demonstrated his tenderness by immoderate transports of grief, a weakness which every tender breast will easily forgive, who have ever felt the pangs of parting from a brother; and a brother of Sir Philip Sidney's worth, demanded still additional sorrow. He took his leave with these admonishing words, "My dear, much loved, honoured brother, love my memory; cherish my friends; their faith to me may assure you they are honest. But above all, govern your will and affections, by the will and word of your Creator. In me, beholding the end of this world with all her vanities." And with this farewel he desired the 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 honour of burying his body at the public expence of their government,[4] but in this they were denied; for soon after, his body was brought to Flushing, and being embarked 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 lain in state, it was magnificently deposited in St. Paul's Cathedral.

As the funeral of many princes has not exceeded it in solemnity, so few have equalled it in the undissembled sorrow for his loss[5] King James writ an epitaph upon him, and the Muses of Oxford lamenting him, composed elegies to his memory. It may be justly said of this great man, what a celebrated poet now living has applied to Archbishop Laud,

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

He left behind him one child named Elizabeth, (married to the earl of Rutland) whom he had by Sir Francis Walsingham's daughter, and who unfortunately died without issue to perpetuate the living virtues of her illustrious family. She is said to have been excessively beautiful; that she married the earl of Rutland by authority, but that her affections were dedicated to the earl of Essex, and as Queen Elizabeth was in love with that nobleman, she became very jealous of this charming countess. It has been commonly reported[6] that Sir Philip, some hours before his death, enjoyned a near friend to consign his works to the flames. What promise his friend returned is uncertain, but if he broke his word to befriend the public, posterity has thank'd him, and every future 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 equally finished in every female accomplishment, as her brother in the manly. She lived to a good old age, and died in 1621. Ben Johnson has wrote an epitaph upon her, so inimitably excellent, that I cannot resist the temptation of inserting it here. She was buried in the Cathedral Church of Salisbury, among the graves of the family of the Pembrokes.

EPITAPH.

Underneath this marble hearse,
Lyes the subject of all verse,
Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother,
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 has been translated into almost every language. As the ancient Ægyptians presented secrets under their mystical hyeroglyphics, so that an easy figure was exhibited to the eye, and a higher notion couched under it to the judgment, so all the Arcadia is a continual grove of morality, shadowing moral and political truths under the plain and striking emblems of lovers, so that the reader may be deceived, but not hurt, and happily 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, printed in a book called Serinia Ceciliana, 4to. 1663.

Astrophel & Stella, written at the desire of Lady Rich, whom he perfectly loved, and is thought to be celebrated in the Arcadia by the name of Philoclea.

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

An Essay on Valour: Some impute this to Sir Thomas Overbury.

Almanzor and Almanzaida, a novel printed in 1678, which is likewise disputed; and Wood says that he believes Sir Philip's name was only prefixed to 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 strange conceits,
One brings the stuff, the other stamps the coyne
Which breeds nought else but glosses of deceits.
Thus painters Cupid paint, thus poets doe
A naked god, blind, young, with arrows two.

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?
How is he young, that tamed old Phoebus
youth?
But arrowes two, and tipt with gold or lead,
Some hurt, accuse a third with horney head.

No nothing so; an old, false knave he is,
By Argus got on Io, then a cow:
What time for her, Juno her Jove did miss,
And charge of her to Argus did allow.
Mercury killed his false sire for this act,
His damme a beast was pardoned, beastly
fact.

With father's death, and mother's guilty shame,
With Jove's disdain at such a rival's feed:
The wretch compel'd, a runegate became,
And learn'd what ill, a miser-state did 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 his death, it was reckoned indecent in any gentleman to appear splendidly dress'd; the public mourned him, not with exterior formality, but with the genuine sorrow of the heart. Of all our poets he seems to 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 account extant of his family. He soon quitted the University, and became a player on the same stage with the incomparable Shakespear. 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 of poets. In a copy of verses called the Censure of 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 raptures were
All air and fire, which made his verses clear;
For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet's brain.

His genius inclined him wholly to tragedy, and he obliged the world with six plays, besides one he joined for with Nash, called Dido Queen of Carthage; but before I give an account of them, I shall present his character to the reader upon the authority of Anthony Wood, which is too singular to be passed over. This Marloe, we are told, presuming upon his own little wit, thought proper to practise the most epicurean indulgence, and openly profess'd atheism; he denied God, Our Saviour; he blasphemed the adorable Trinity, and, as it was reported, wrote several discourses against 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 low girl, and had for his rival a fellow in livery, who looked more like a pimp than a lover. Marloe, fired with jealousy, and having some reason to believe that his mistress granted the fellow favours, he rushed upon him to stab him with his dagger; but the footman being quick, avoided the stroke, and catching hold of 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 made a considerable progress in an excellent poem called Hero and Leander, which was afterwards finished by George Chapman, who fell short, as it is said, of the spirit and invention of Marloe in the execution of it.

What credit may be due to Mr. Wood's severe representation of this poet's character, the reader must judge for himself. For my part, I am willing to suspend my judgment till I meet with some other testimony of his having thus heinously offended against his God, and against the best and most amiable system of Religion that ever was, or ever can be: Marloe might possibly be inclined to free-thinking, without running the unhappy lengths that Mr. Wood tells us, it was reported he had done. We have many instances of characters being too lightly taken up on report, and mistakenly represented thro' a too easy credulity; especially against a man who may 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 spoken of as Wood speaks of Marloe.

His other works are

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

2. Edward the Second, a Tragedy, printed in 4to. London--when this play was acted is not known.

3. Jew of Malta, a Tragedy played before the King and Queen at Whitehall, 1633. This play was in much esteem in those days; the Jew's part being performed by Mr. Edward Alleyn, the greatest player 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 Roscius of the British nation, used to acknowledge that he owed to him those great attainments of which he was master.

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 Duke of Guise, a Tragedy, played by the Right Honourable the Lord Admiral's servants. This play is divided into acts; it begins with the fatal marriage between 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 his productions.

* * * * *

ROBERT GREEN

Received his education at the university of Cambridge, and was, as Winstanley says, a great friend to the printers by the many books he writ. He was a merry droll in those times, and a man so addicted to pleasure, that as Winstanley observes, he drank much deeper draughts of sack, than of the Heliconian stream; he was amongst the first of our poets who writ for bread, 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 writing obscenity, and favouring the cause of vice, by which he no doubt recommended himself to the rakes about town, who, as they are generally no true judges of wit, to estimate the merit of a piece, as it happens to suit their appetite, or encourage them in every irregular indulgence. No man of honour who sees a poet endowed with a large share of natural understanding, prostituting his pen to the vilest purpose of debauchery and lewdness, can think of him but with contempt; and his wit, however brilliant, ought not to screen him from the just indignation of the sober part of mankind. When wit is prostituted to vice, 'tis wit no more; that is, it ceases to be true wit; and I have often thought there should be some public mark of infamy fixed on those who hurt society by loose writings. But Mr. Green must be freed from the imputation of hypocrisy, for we find him practicing the very doctrines he taught. Winstanley relates that 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 applied the wages of iniquity, while his wife starved. After some years indulgence of this sort, when his wit began to grow stale, we find him fallen into abject poverty, and lamenting the life he had led which brought him to it; for it always happens, that a mistress is a 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 the money which, in the true sense of the word, is misspent upon those daughters of destruction, would keep a family with 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 has preferred, and which, as it has somewhat tender in it I shall insert. It has often been observed, that half the unhappy marriages in the world, are more owing to the men than the women; That women are in general much better beings, in the moral sense, than the men; who, as they bustle less in life, are generally unacquainted with those artifices and tricks, which are acquired by a knowledge of the world; and that then their yoke-fellows need only be tender and indulgent, to win them. But I believe it may be generally allowed, that women are the best or worst part of the human creation: none excel them in virtue; but when they depart from it, none exceed them in vice. In the case of Green, we shall see by the letter he sent his wife how much she was injured.