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fhewed a little of both, when, upon sight of the dutchess of Newcastle's verses on the death of a Stag, he declared that he would give all his own compositions to have written them; and being charged with the exorbitance of his adulation, answered, that “ nothing was «s too much to be given, that a lady “ might be saved from the disgrace of “ such a vile performance.” This however was no very mischievous or very unusual deviation from truth : had his hypocrisy been confined to such transactions, he might have been forgiven, though not praised; for who forbears to flatter an author or a lady?
Of the laxity of his political principles, and the weakness of his resolution, he experienced the natural effe&, by losing the efteein of every party. From Cromwell he had only his recall; and from Charles the Second, who delighted in his company, he obtained only the pardon of his relation Hampden, and the safety of Hampden's fon.
As far as conjecture can be made from the whole of his writing, and his conduct, he was habitually and deliberately a friend to monarchy. His deviation towards democracy proceeded from his connection with Hampden, for whose fake he prosecuted Crawley with great bitterness; and the invective which he pronounced on that occafion was so popular, that twenty thousand copies are faid by his bio
grapher to have been sold in one day.
It is confessed that his faults still loft him many friends, at least many companions. His convivial power of pleasing is universally acknowledged; but those who conversed with him intimately, found him not only passionate, especially in his old age, but resentful; so that the interposition of friends was sometimes neceffary. · His wit and his poetry naturally connected him with the polite writers of his time : he was joined with lord Buckhurst in the translation of Corneille's Pompey; and is said to have added his help to that of Cowley in the original draught of the Rehearsal.
The care of his fortune, which Clarendon imputes to him in a degree little less than criminal, was either not constant or not successful; for, having inherited a patrimony of three thousand five hundred a year in the time of James the First, and augmented it at least by one wealthy marriage, he left, about the time of the Revolution, an income of not more than twelve or thirteen hundred; which, when the different value of money is reckoned, will be found perhaps not more than a fourth part of what he once poffefsed.
Of this diminution, part was the confequence of the gifts which he was forced to scatter, and the fine which he was condemned to pay at the detection
of his plot; and if his estate, as is related in his Life, was sequestered, he had probably contracted debts when he lived in exile ; for we are told that at Paris he lived in splendor, and was the only Englishman except the lord St. Albans that kept a table.
His unlucky plot compelled him to sell a thousand a year; of the waste of the rest there is no account, except that he is confessed by his biographer to have been a bad economist. He seems to have deviated from the common practice; to have been a hoarder in his first years, and a squanderer in his last.
Of his course of studies, or choice of books, nothing is known more than that he professed himself unable to read