With me can merit more, than that good man,
Whose dice not doing well, to a pulpit ran.-
No, Shelton, give me thee, canst want all these,
But dost it out of judgment, not disease;
Dar'st breathe in any air; and with safe skill,
Till thou canst find the best, choose the least ill.
That to the vulgar canst thyself apply,
Treading a better path, not contrary;

And in their error's maze thine own way know :
Which is to live to conscience, not to show.

8

He that, but living half his age, dies such,
Makes the whole longer than 'twas given him, much.

CXX.

AN EPITAPH ON SALATHIEL PAVY, A CHILD OF QUEEN ELIZABETH'S CHAPEL.

This little story:

And know, for whom a tear you shed
Death's self is sorry.

frolic of rowing up Fleet ditch to Holborn, celebrated, page 233; but I know nothing more of him.

8 He that, but living half his age, dies such,

Makes the whole longer than 'twas given him, much.]

Qui sic vel medio finitus vixit in ævo

Longior huic facta est quam data vita fuit.

Mart. lib. viii. 27.

9 Salathiel Pavy.] The subject of this beautiful epitaph acted in Cynthia's Revels, and in the Poetaster, 1600 and 1601, in which year he probably died. The poet speaks of him with interest and affection, and it cannot be doubted that he was a boy of extraordinary talents. Many of the children of St. Paul's, as well as of the queen's chapel, evinced great powers on the stage, at a very early period of life, and not a few of them became the pride and ornament of it in riper years.

Our times have witnessed several attempts to bring children (pert

'Twas a child that so did thrive

In grace

and feature,

As heaven and nature seem'd to strive
Which own'd the creature.

Years he number'd scarce thirteen
When fates turn'd cruel,

Yet three fill'd zodiacs had he been
The stage's jewel;

And did act, what now we moan,
Old men so duly,

As, sooth, the Parcæ thought him one,
He play'd so truly.

1

So, by error to his fate 1

They all consented;

boys and girls) upon the stage, as prodigies, which have all terminated, as might reasonably be expected, in disappointment and disgrace. It should be recollected that the "children" of the old theatre were strictly educated, and that they were opposed only to one another. Nothing so monstrous ever entered into the thoughts of the managers of those days as taking infants from the cock-horse, and setting them to act with men and women.—And yet it would be unjust, perhaps, to attribute the present encouragement of this degrading exhibition wholly to the managers: if they took advantage of the gross folly of that many-headed beast, the town, and indulged its vitiated taste, they did little more than their precarious situation seemed to warrant.-Let not Mr. Kemble, however, be defrauded of his due praise: but for his judicious and welltimed humour in arranging the characters of the Provoked Husband in such a manner as to place the absurdity of the attempt in the most glaring light, that forward baby, Miss Mudie, would have disgraced and delighted all London for the season, instead of being sent back to her dirt pies, and her doll, after a single exposure.

1 So, by error to his fate

They all consented, &c.]

Ille ego sum Scorpus, clamosi gloria Circi,
Plausus, Roma, tui, deliciæque breves;
Invida quem Lachesis raptum trieteride nona,
Dum numerat palmas, credidit esse senem.

Mart. lib. x. epig. 53.

Lachesis (Dr. Jortin observes) did not take away Scorpus out of

But viewing him since, alas, too late!
They have repented;

And have sought, to give new birth,
In baths to steep him;

But being so much too good for earth,
Heaven vows to keep him.

CXXI.

TO BENJAMIN RUDYERD.2

UDYERD, as lesser dames to great ones use, My lighter comes to kiss thy learned muse; Whose better studies while she emulates, She learns to know long difference of their states.

envy, but by mistake. She concluded that one who had gained so many prizes at the chariot-races was an old man, and in consequence of this error, took him in the flower of youth. I fancy, therefore, that Martial wrote,

"Inscia quem Lachesis," &c. Tracts, vol. ii. p. 273.

There can be no doubt that Jonson read Inscia; and it seems highly probable that Jortin was led to the emendation by this epitaph, which was always well known.

2 Sir Benjamin Rudyerd (for subsequently to the writing of this epigram, he received the honour of knighthood) was, as Granger says, "an accomplished gentleman, and an elegant scholar." It is no small proof of his worth, that he lived on terms of intimacy with the earl of Pembroke, to whose poetical trifles his own were subjoined, in a little volume which came out in 1660.

In the troubles which led to the usurpation of the Parliament, sir Benjamin took an active part, and spoke often on the side of moderation and justice, particularly on the question of excluding the bishops from the Upper House. He was the last person who held the office of "Surveyor of the Court of Wards and Liveries,” and, when that court was abolished in 1646, received a grant of land and money as a compensation for his place. He died in 1658, and, as may be conjectured from his epitaph, which he wrote himself, in the practice of that piety and virtue which had formed the

Yet is the office not to be despised,

If only love should make the action prized;
Nor he for friendship can be thought unfit,
That strives his manners should precede his wit.

CXXII.

TO THE SAME.

F I would wish for truth, and not for show, The aged Saturn's age and rites to know; If I would strive to bring back times, and try The world's pure gold, and wise simplicity; If I would virtue set as she was young,

And hear her speak with one, and her first tongue; If holiest friendship, naked to the touch,

I would restore, and keep it ever such;

I need no other arts, but study thee:

Who prov'st all these were, and again may be.

CXXIII.

TO THE SAME.

RITING thyself, or judging others writ,

I know not which thou'st most, candor, or

wit :

But both thou hast so, as who affects the state
Of the best writer and judge, should emulate.

consolation of his life. There is a beautiful and touching simplicity in the second of these epigrams, which cannot be too highly praised.

CXXIV.

EPITAPH ON ELIZABETH, L. H.3

OULD'ST thou hear what man can say
In a little? reader, stay.

Underneath this stone doth lie

As much beauty as could die :
Which in life did harbour give
To more virtue than doth live.
If at all she had a fault,
Leave it buried in this vault.
One name was Elizabeth,

The other let it sleep with death :
Fitter, where it died, to tell,

Than that it lived at all.

Farewell!

3 Elizabeth, L. H.] Of this lady I can say nothing. If Jonson desired to keep her name secret, he has apparently succeeded; and yet he could scarcely mean to do this, as he has involved it, in some measure, with her history, in the last couplet. A luckier guesser, or a better historian, than I pretend to be, may one day hit upon it. But what is the import of this nameless tribute to beauty and virtue? "To be read by bare inscriptions, (says sir Thomas Brown,) to hope for eternity by ænigmatical epithets, or initial letters, to be studied by antiquaries who we were, and have new names given us like some of the mummies, are cold consolations to the student of perpetuity, even by everlasting languages," or, as in the case before us, by everlasting verse.

66

Addison, after drawing a beautiful picture of good humour, innocence, and piety, in the person of Sophronia, adds that he cannot conclude his essay better than by a short epitaph written by Ben Jonson, with a spirit which nothing could inspire but such an object as he had been describing.

"Underneath this stone doth lie

As much beauty as could die :

Which in life did harbour give

To more virtue than doth live." Spec. No. xxxiii.

I must observe here that, in the Spectator this passage is very incorrectly given. In a work so universally read, the utmost care should be taken to preserve the integrity of the text.