you for this seven years; and, according as you employ that time, you are to be happy or unhappy for ever. I have so good an opinion of you, that I am glad to think you will never deceive me. Ďeare child, learn your booke, and be obedient, and you shall see what a father I will be to you. You shall want no pleasure whilst you are good; and that you may be good are my constant prayers. ROCHESTER. I take it very kindly that you write to me (though seldom), and wish heartily that you would behave yourself, so as that I might shew how much I love you without being ashamed. Obedience to your grandmother, and those who instruct you in good things, is the way to make you happy here and for ever. Avoid idleness, scorn lying, and God will bless you, for which I pray. ROCHESTER. XIV. The Earl of Rochester to the Earl of Litchfield. My dear Lord, I would not have slipt this opportunity of waiting upon you, but the change of the weather makes it a dangerous journey for a man in no better health than I am; neither would you condemn the care I take of myself, did you know how kind an uncle and how faithful a servant I preserve for you. The character you may hear of me from others may give you some reason to consider this no farther than good nature obliges you; but, if I am ever so happy as to live where my inclinations to you may shew themselves, be assured you shall not want very good proofs how much the memory of your father, the favours of my lady Lyndsey, (how long soever past,) and your own merit, can oblige a very grateful man to be faithfully, sincerely, and eternally, Dear nephew, Your most humble servant, Dec. 23d.-77. To the Earl of Litchfield. E ROCHESTER. XV. THE COUNTESS OF ROCHESTER TO THE EARL. The last letter I received from your honour, was somewhat scandalous, so that I knew not well how to answer it. It was my designe to have writ to my lady Anne Willmot, to intercede for mee; but now, with joy, I finde myselfe againe in your favour; it shall be my endeavour to continue soe. In order to which, very shortly I will bee with you; in the meane time, my mother may be pleas'd to dispose of my children, and my chimists, and my little dogge, and whatever is myne, as shee will; only, if I may have nothing about mee that I like, it will be the cause of making the felicity of waiting on her befall mee very seldome. Thus I remaine, with my duty to her, my service to you, and all those things. XVI. If I could have been troubled at any thing, when I had the happiness of receiving a letter from you, I should be so, because you did not name a time when I might hope to see you, the uncertainty of which very much afflicts me. Whether this odd kind of proceeding be to try my patience or obedience, I cannot guess; but I will never fail of either when my duty to you require them. I do not think you design staying at Bath, now that it is like to be so full, and God knows when you will find in your heart to leave the place you are in. Pray consider with yourself, whether this be a reasonable way of proceeding, and be pleased to let me know what I am to expect; for there being so short a time betwixt this and the sitting of parliament; I am confident you will find so much business as will not allow you to come into the country therefore, pray lay your commands upon me what I am to do, and, though it be to forget my children, and the long hopes I have lived in of seeing you, yet I will endeavour to obey you, or in the memory only torment myself, without giving you the trouble of putting you in mind that there lives such a creature as Your faithful, humble, &c. XVII. The same to the same. Though I cannot flater myselfe soe much as to expect it, yett give me leave to wish that you would dine to-morrow at Cornbury, where necessity forces Your faithful humble wife, E. ROCHESTer. If you send to command me to Woodstock, when I am so neare as Cornbury, I shall not be a little rejoyced. XVIII. THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM TO THE EARL OF ROCHESTER. My Lord, As persons, inclined to corroborate the intentions of other men, are ever more incumbent to a voluminous ubiquity, than any way condescending to a just medium, soe all true lovers of art doe naturally prefer the cimetry of resolutions before the corruscations of any concatinations whatsoever; and the reason of this is plaine, because, else all vocal determinations would be frustrated, and then (as Aristotle observes very well) noe man could properly say, consummatum est. The meaning of this simile is, that, if your lordship will give me leave, I shall immediately waite upon you with the best pack of hounds that ever ran upon English ground. I had done it sooner, but that I stayed for my lord Dorset's and Mr. Shepheard's company; but they having both failed me, and not knowing how long your occasions will give you leave to stay in the country, I thought fit to know of your lordship, by this bearer, whether it would not be inconvenient to you at this time to receive a visit from, My Lord, Your lordship's most humble and most obedient servant, Clifden, Oct. 8th, 1677. BUCKINGHAM. ROCHESTER AND CHARLES THE SECOND. (Letter from Waller to St. Evremond.) GRAMMONT once told Rochester, that if he could by any means divest himself of one half of his wit, the other half would make him the most agreeable man in the world. This observation of the count's did not strike me much when I heard it, but I have often marked the propriety of it since. Last night I supped at lord R.'s with a select party: on such occasions, he is not ambitious of shining; he is rather pleasant than arch; he is comparatively reserved; but you find something in that restraint, which is more agreeable than the utmost exertion of talents in others. The reserve of Rochester gives you the idea of a copious river, that fills its channel, and seems as if it would easily overflow its banks, but is unwilling to spoil the beauty and verdure of the plains. The most perfect good-humour was supported through the whole evening; nor was it in the least disturbed, when, unexpectedly, towards the end of it, the king came in-(no unusual thing with Charles II.) "Something has vexed him," said Rochester; "he never does me this honour, but when he is in an ill humour." following dialogue, or something very like it, then ensued: The The King. How the devil have I got here? The knaves have sold every cloak in the wardrobe. Rochester. Those knaves are fools. That is a part of dress, which, for their own sakes, your majesty ought never to be without. The King. Pshaw!-I'm vexed! Rochester. I hate still life-I'm glad of it. Your majesty is never so entertaining as when The King. Ridiculous!-I believe the English are the most untractable people upon earth. Rochester. I most humbly beg your majesty's pardon, if I presume in that respect. The King. You would find them so were you in my place, and obliged to govern. Rochester. Were I in your majesty's place, I would not govern at all. The King. How then? Rochester. I would send for my good lord Rochester, and command him to govern. The King. But the singular modesty of that nobleman— Rochester. He would certainly conform himself to your majesty's bright example. How gloriously would the two grand social virtues flourish under his auspices! The King. O, prisca fides! What can these be? The King. God bless your majesty! Rochester. These attachments keep the world in good humour, and therefore I say they are social virtues. Let the bishop of Salisbury deny it if he can. The King. He died last night; have you a mind to succeed him? Rochester. On condition that I shall neither be called upon to preach on the thirtieth of January, nor on the twenty-ninth of May.* The King. Those conditions are curious. You object to the first, I suppose, because it would be a melancholy subject; but the other Rochester. Would be a melancholy subject too. The King. That is too much Rochester. Nay, I only mean that the business would be a little too grave for the day. Nothing but the indulgence of the two grand social virtues could be a proper testimony of my joy upon that occasion. The King. Thou art the happiest fellow in my dominions. Let me perish, if I do not envy thee thy impudence! It is in some such strain of conversation, generally, that this prince passes off his chagrin; and he never suffers his dignity to stand in the way of his humour. If happiness be the end of wisdom, I know not who has a right to censure his conduct. EPITAPH FOR "RARE BEN." BY MILDMAY FANE, EARL OF WESTMORELAND. (From a small book of Poems which his Lordship gave to, and is still preserved in, the Library of Emanuel College, Cambridge.) In Obitum Ben Johns. Poctæ Eximii. He who began from bricke and lime The Muses' hill to climbe; And, whilom busied in laying ston, The anniversaries of king Charles the First's martyrdom and the Restoration of Charles the Second. |