WILLIAM MOUNTFORD. 1659-1692. An actor of great eminence, who was murdered by Captain Hill and Lord Mohun. He wrote six Dramatick Pieces, and many Songs, Prologues, and Epilogues, which are scattered in Dryden's Miscellanies. SONG, In "The Injured Lovers." LUCINDA close or veil your eye, Where thousand loves in ambush lye ; II. Lucinda, hide that swelling breast, Yet do not, for, when she expires, Her heat may light in the soft fires Of love and pity, so that I By this one way may thee enjoy. 1 SIR WILLIAM KILLIGREW. Hanworth, Middlesex, 1605—1693, Sir William suffered in his fortunes for his attachment to Charles I. and was one of the few sufferers whom Charles II. recompenced; for that worthless monarch seems to have imagined that a supererogation of vengeance would atone for his deficiency of gratitude. He wrote five Plays and two volumes, which were the productions of a more serious age, when he had retired from Court. 1. The Artless Midnight Thoughts of a Gentleman at Court; who, for many years, built on sand, which every blast of cross fortune has defaced; but now he has laid new foundations on the rock of his salvation, 1684. Of this Cibber says, that besides 233 thoughts in it, there are some small pieces of poetry. If he has really given us two hundred and thirty three thoughts in one volume, we may recommend Sir William as a worthy object of imitation; or rather admire the improvement introduced into the book manufactory, of making volumes without any thoughts at all. 2. Midnight and Daily Thoughts in Verse and Prose. 1694. This was printed after his death. On the Fear of Death. WHY dost thou shrink, my soul, what terrour see, To cause such high impiety, That thus from age to age thou would'st endure › As may more time in vanity mis-spend? That thus thou still enamour'd art Or dost thou grudge the dirty grave This giant death that hath so long controll'd His threatening dart, nor point nor sharpness hath Thou know'st all this, my soul, yet still dost cry, Thou would'st not die, and know'st not why. If thou be'st frighted by a name, Then thou art much to blame, And poorly weak, if terrour-struck Women and children teach thee a disdain, The ancient heathens courted death to be Remembered by posterity; And shall those heathens then more courage show, Than thou that dost thy Maker know? The misbelieving christian may Shake at his latter day; Till then, not mindful of his sin, Nor the danger he is in. But thou that hast conversed with God and death, In speculation, shall thy breath Unwillingly expire into his hand, That comes to fetch it by command ? From God that made thee, art thou loth to be, Because thy guide looks pale, and must What is all this to thee? Thou shalt not feel death's sting, but instant have For thy next wearing, in that holy place, That heaven, where thou shalt face to face |