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and how heartely he desir'd their conversion. If he were defective in any part of iustice, it was when it was in his power to punish those who had iniur'd him, whom I have so often knowne him to recompence with favours instead of revenge, that his friends us'd to tell him if they had any occasion to make him favourably partiall to them they would provoke him by an iniury. He was as faithfull and constant to his friends as mercifull to his enemies: nothing griev'd him more than to be oblieg'd, where he could not hope to returne itt. He that was a rock to all assaults of might and violence, was the gentlest easie soule to kindnesse, that the least warme sparke of that melted him into aniething that was not sinfull. There never was a man more exactly just in the performance of duties to all relations and all persons. Honor, obedience, and love to his father, were so naturall and so lasting in him, that it is impossible to imagine a better sonne than he was, and whoever would pray for a blessing in children to any one, could but wish them such a sonne as he*. He never repin'd at his father's will in aniething, how much soever it were to his preiudice, nor would endure to heare anie one say his father was not so kind to him as he might have bene, but to his dying day preserv'd his father's memory with such tender affection and reverence as was admirable, and had that high regard for his mother-in-law and the children she brought his father, as he could not have bene more dearly concern'd in all their interest if she had bene his owne mother--which

all things consider'd, although they were deserving persons, was an example of piety and goodnesse that will not easily be matcht. For coniug affection to his wife, it was such in him, as whosoever would draw out a rule of honour, kindnesse, and religion, to be prac tiz'd in that estate, need no more, but exactly draw out his example; never man had a greater passion for a woman, nor a more honourable esteenie of a wife, yet he was not uxorious, nor remitted not that iust rule which it was her honour to obey, but manag'd the reines of governement with such prudence and affection that she who would not delight in such an honourable and advantageable subjection, must have wanted a reasonable 'scule: he govern'd by perswasion, which he never employ'd but to things honorable and profitable for herselfe; he lov'd her soule and her honor more than her outside, and yet he had even for her person a constant indulgence, exceeding the common temporary passions of the most uxorious fooles: if he esteem'd her att a higher rate then she in herselfe could have deserv'd, he was the author of that vertue he doted on, while she only reflected his own glories upon him: all that she was, was him, while he was here, and all that she is now at best but his pale shade. So liberall was he to her and of so generous a temper, that he hated the mention of sever'd purses: his estate being so much at her dispose that he never would receive an account of aniething she expended; so constant was he in his love, that when she ceast to be young and lovely, he

*This we shall find called in question by his mother-in-law, and will be discussed in the course of the history.

began

began to shew most fondnesse, he lov'd her at such a kind and generous rate as words cannot expresse, yet even this, which was the highest love he or anie man could have, was yet bounded by a superior, he lov'd her in the Lord as his fellow creature, not his idoll, but in such a manner as show'd that an affection bounded in the just rules of duty, far exceeds every way all the irregular passions in the world. He lov'd God above her and all the other dear pledges of his heart, and at his command and for his glorie chearefully resign'd them. He was as kinde a father, as deare a brother, as good a master, and as faithfull a friend as the world had, yet in all these relations, the greatest indulgence he could have in the world never prevail'd on him to indulge vice in any the dearest person, but the more deare any was to him, the more was he offended at any thing that might take of the lustre of their glorie. As he had great severity against errors and follies pertinaciously persued, so had he the most merciful, gentle, and compassionate frame of spiritt that can be imagin'd to those who became sensible of their errors and frailties, although they had bene never so iniurious to himselfe.

counts with life and death, and fixt his purpose to entertaine both henorably, so that no accident ever dismay'd him, but he rather res ioic'd in such troublesome conflicts as might signalize his generosity. A truer or more lively vallour there never was in anie man, but in all his actions, it ever marcht in the same file with wisedome. He understood well, and as well perform'd when he undertooke it, the millitary art in all parts of it: he naturally lov'd the employment as it suited with his active temper, more then any, conceiving a mutual delight in leading those men that lov'd his conduct; and when he commanded souldiers, never was man more loved and reverenced by all that were under him: for he would never condiscend to them in anie thing they mutinously sought, nor suffer them to seeke what it was fitt for him to provide, but prevented them by his loving care; and while he exercis'd his authority no way but in keeping them to their iust duty, they foy'd as much in his commands, as he in their obedience: he was very liberall to them, but ever chose just times and occasions to exercise it. I cannot sy whether he were more truly magnanimous or lesse proud: he never disdain'd the meanest person nor flatter'd the greatest; he had a loving and sweete courtesie to the poorest, and would often employ many spare bowers with the commonest souliers and poorest la

"Nor was his soule lesse shining in honour then in love, Pietie being still the bond of all his other vertues, there was nothing he durst not doe or suffer, but sin against God, and therefore as he never re-bourers, but still so ordering his garded his life in any noble and familiarity as it never rays'd them just enterprize, so he never staked to a contempt, but entertained still it in any rash or unwarrantable at the same time a reverence with hazard. He was never surpriz'd, love of him; he ever preserv'd himamaz'd, nor confounded with greate selfe in his owne rank, neither difficulties or dangers, which rather being proud of it so as to despise serv'd to animate then distract his any inferior, nor letting fall that spiritts: he had made up his ac- just decorum which his honor obli

ged him to keepe up. He was as farre from envie of superiors as from contemning them that were under him he was above the ambition of vaine titles, and so well contented with the even ground of a gentleman, that no invitation could have prevail'd upon him to advance one step that way; he lov'd substantiall not ayrie honor: as he was above seeking or delight. ing in emptie titles for himself, so he neither denied or envied any man's due precedency, but pittied those that tooke a glorie in that which had no foundation of vertue. As little did he seeke after popular applause, or pride himselfe in it, if at any time it cried up his just deserts; he more delighted to doe well then to be prays'd, and never sett vulgar commendations at such a rate, as to act contrary to his owne conscience or reason for the obteining them, nor would forbear a good action which he was bound to, though all the world disliked it, for he ever look'd on things as they were in themselves, not through the dimme spectacles of vulgar estimation. As he was farre from a vaine affectation of popularity, so he never neglected that iust care that an honest man ought to have of his reputation, and was as carefull to avoyd the appearances of evill as evill itselfe; but if he were evill spoken of for truth or righteousnesse sake, he rejoyc'd in taking up the reproach; which all good men that dare beare their testimony against an evill generation must suffer. Though his zeale for truth and vertue, caus'd the wicked with the sharpe edges of their malicious tongues, to attempt to shave of the glories from his head, yett his

honor springing from the fast roote of vertue, did but grow the thicker and more beautiful for all their endeavours to cut it of. He was as free from avarice as from ambition and pride. Never had any man a more contented and thankfull heart for the estate that God had given, but it was a very narrow compasse for the exercise of his greate heart. He lov'd hospitallity as much as he hated riott: he could contentedly be without things beyond his reach, though he tooke very much pleasure in all those noble delights that exceeded not his faculties. In those things that were of meere pleasure, he lov'd not to aime at that he could not attaine: he would rather weare clothes absolutely plaine, then pretending to gallantry, and would rather chuse to have none then meane iewells or pictures, and such other things as were not of absolute necessity: he would rather give nothing then a base reward or present, and upon that score, liv'd very much retir'd, though his nature were very sociable and delighted in going into and receiving company; because his fortune would not allow him to doe it in such a

noble manner as suited with his mind. He was so truly magnanimous that prosperity could never lift him up in the least, nor give him any tincture of pride or vaineglory, nor diminish a generall affa billity, curtesie, and civillity, that he had allwayes to all persons. When he was most exalted he was most mercifull and compassionate to those that were humbled. At the same time that he vanquisht any enemie, he cast away all his ill-will to him, and entertain'd thoughts of love and kindnesse as soone as

*Samson and Dalilah.

he

he ceast to be in a posture of opposition. He was as farre from meannesse as from pride, as truly generous as humble, and shew'd his noble spiritt mere in adversity then in his prosperous condition: he vanquisht all the spite of his enemies by his manly suffering, and all the contempts they could cast at him were theirs, not his, shame.

His whole life was the rule of temperance in meate, drinke, apparell, pleasure, and all those things that may be lawfully enjoy'd, and herein his temperance was more excellent then in others, in whom it is not so much a vertue, but proceeds from want of appetite or gust of pleasure; in him it was a true, wise, and religious governement of the desire and delight he tooke in the things he enjoy'd. He had a certeine activity of spiritt which could never endure idlenesse either in himselfe or others, and that made him eager for the time he indulg'd it as well in pleasure as in businesse; indeed, though in his youth he exercis'd innocent sports a little while, yett afterwards his businesse was his pleasure; but how intent soever he were in anie

thing, how much soever it delighted him, he could freely and easily cast it away when God called him to something elce-He had as much modesty as could consist with a true vertuous assurance, and hated an impudent person. Neither in youth nor riper age could the most faire or enticeing weomen ever draw him so much as into unnecessary familliarity or vaine converse or dalliance with them, yet he despis'd nothing of the female sex but their follies and vanities ; wise and vertuous weomen he lov'd, and delighted in all pure, holy, and unblameable conversation with them, but so as never to excite scandall or temptation. Scurrilous discourse even among men he abhorr'd, and though he sometimes tooke pleasure in witt and mirth, yett that which was mixt with impurity he never would endure. The heate of his youth a little enclin'd him to the passion of anger, and the goodnesse of his nature to those of love and griefe, but reason was never dethron'd by them, but continued governesse and moderator in his soul*."

"TH

MEMOIRS Of LOPE DE VEGA.

[From LORD HOLLAND'S ACCO HE wonders of Lope de Vega's life consist indeed more in the number of his productions than the singularity of his

U

NT of his LIFE and WRITINGS.] adventures; yet at an early period of life he was not exempt from that spirit of enterprise which pervaded all ranks and descriptions

In this place Mrs. Hutchinson has written," All this and more is true, but I so much dislike the manner of relating it, that I will make another assay." And accordingly she proceeds to write his character over again, but it has the appearance of being much more laboured, and much less characteristick, and therefore the former is preferred.

J. H.

At the same place is written: "This book was written by Lucy, the widow and Felict of Col. John Hutchinson, of Owthorp.” (Julius Hutchinson, grandfather of the Editor)

ged him to keepe up. He was as farre from envie of superiors as from contemning them that were under him he was above the ambition of vaine titles, and so well contented with the even ground of a gentleman, that no invitation could have prevail'd upon him to advance one step that way; he lov'd substantiall not ayrie honor: as he was above seeking or delight. ing in emptie titles for himself, so he neither denied or envied any man's due precedency, but pittied those that tooke a glorie in that which had no foundation of vertue. As little did he seeke after popular applause, or pride himselfe in it, if at any time it cried up his just deserts; he more delighted to doe well then to be prays'd, and never sett vulgar commendations at such a rate, as to act contrary to his owne conscience or reason for the obteining them, nor would forbear a good action which he was bound to, though all the world disliked it, for he ever look'd on things as they were in themselves, not through the dimme spectacles of vulgar estimation. As he was farre from a vaine affectation of popularity, so he never neglected that iust care that an honest man ought to have of his reputation, and was as carefull to avoyd the appearances of evill as evill itselfe; but if he were evill spoken of for truth or righteousnesse sake, he rejoyc'd in taking up the reproach; which all good men that dare beare their testimony against an evill generation must suffer. Though his zeale for truth and vertue, caus'd the wicked with the sharpe edges of their mallicious tongues, to attempt to shave of the glories from his head, yett his

honor springing from the fast roote of vertue, did but grow the thicker and more beautiful for all their endeavours to cut it of. He was as free from avarice as from ambition and pride. Never had any man a more contented and thankfull heart for the estate that God had given, but it was a very narrow compasse for the exercise of his greate heart. He lov'd hospitallity as much as he hated riott: he could contentedly be without things beyond his reach, though he tooke very much pleasure in all those noble delights that exceeded not his faculties. In those things that were of meere pleasure, he lov'd not to aime at that he could not attaine: he would rather weare clothes absolutely plaine, then pretending to gallantry, and would rather chuse to have none then meane iewells or pictures, and such other things as were not of absolute necessity: he would rather give nothing then a base reward or present, and upon that score, liv'd very much retir'd, though his nature were very sociable and delighted in going into and receiving company; because his fortune would not allow him to doe it in such a noble manner as suited with his mind. He was so truly magnanimous that prosperity could never lift him up in the least, nor give him any tincture of pride or vaineglory, nor diminish a generall affabillity, curtesie, and civillity, that he had allwayes to all persons, When he was most exalted he was most mercifull and compassionate to those that were humbled. At the same time that he vanquisht any enemie, he cast away all his ill-will to him, and entertain'd thoughts of love and kindnesse as soone as

*Samson and Dalilah.

he

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