The elder of these two rich hopes increase, His life, his love, his honour which ne'er dies, As true oblations. His brother's emblem says, The elder of these two.] These youths were the sons of Robert Rich, first earl of Warwick, by the too celebrated sister of the earl of Essex. Robert, the elder, succeeded his father, as earl of Warwick, in 1618. He protests much (like Hamlet's player-queen) in his speech, and he kept his word somewhat in the same manner. James was scarcely dead, when he deserted his successor, threw himself into the arms of the parliament, took the command of the fleet, and carried on a thriving trade, as Lord Clarendon says, "in the desperate commodity of rebellion." His brother, Henry Rich, notwithstanding his emblem, or impress, trod in Sir Robert's steps. James loaded him with favours, and not long before his death created him earl of Holland. Fresh honours were conferred upon him by Charles, in return for which he deserted and betrayed him. He was not long in receiving his reward from his new masters, who, less scrupulous than his indulgent sovereign, deprived him of his head for some alleged tergiversation, in 1649. XXX. AN EPISTLE TO SIR EDWARD SACKVILE. Now earl of Dorset. F, Sackvile, all that have the power to do them too, And knew their how, and where; we should have then Less list of proud, hard, or ungrateful men. 8 An Epistle to sir Edward Sackvile.] At that time lord chamberlain; he succeeded his father, Thomas Sackvile, in the title of earl of Dorset, who died suddenly at the council-table in 1608. WHAL. We have here a cluster of mistakes. The father of sir Edward Sackvile was not Thomas, but Robert, second earl of Dorset, his son; nor did Edward succeed his father, but his elder brother Richard, third earl of Dorset, who died in 1624. What Whalley means by at that time lord chamberlain, it is difficult to say. There is no allusion to any such office in the poem, nor could there be, for the earl of Dorset was not made chamberlain till 1642, five years after the poet's death. This sir Edward Sackvile is the person who engaged in that ferocious and fatal duel with the lord Bruce, of which the interesting account given by himself was copied into the Guardian, from the MS. in the library of Queen's College, Oxford. This affair took place in 1613, when he was only three and twenty. Afterwards, however, he nobly redeemed his extravagancies, and became one of the brightest characters of his day. Lord Clarendon says that "his person was beautiful, graceful, and vigorous; his wit pleasant, sparkling, and sublime, and his other parts of learning and language of that lustre, that he could not miscarry in the world." This "Epistle" was the favourite poem of Horne Tooke. He had it by heart, and delighted to quote it on all occasions. Its date may be pretty nearly ascertained by the expression "now earl of Dorset," which seems to imply that sir Edward had not long enjoyed the title. He returned to England, from Italy, on hearing of the death of his brother, which took place the 28th of March, For benefits are ow'd with the same mind Not at my prayers, but your sense; which laid Deepest in man, of which, when he doth think, Than what, he hath receiv'd. Gifts stink from some, Can I owe thanks for courtesies received Against his will that does them? that hath weaved That they have more opprest me than my want? But by mere chance? for interest? or to free All this corrupts the thanks: less hath he won, : 1624 and the poet probably addressed him soon after 1625, when sickness and want first assailed him. There is great vigour of thought, and strength of expression, in this rough epistle. The predilection of Horne Tooke for it throws no discredit on his judgment. In that proud manner, as a good so gain'd, No! gifts and thanks should have one cheerful face, So each that's done, and ta'en, becomes a brace. A benefit, or that doth throw't away; No more than he doth thank, that will receive As I have seen some infants of the sword swear; And speaking worst of those, from whom they went But then fist-fill'd, to put me off the scent. And hurt, seeks cure; the surgeon bids take bread, Pardon, says he, that were a way to see Man out their boats to the Temple, and not shift Or swaggering with the watch, or drawer drunk ; And told of with more license than they're done! That men such reverence to such actions show, Loud sacrifice of drink, for their health's sake: Rear suppers in their names, and spend whole nights Unto their praise in certain swearing rites! • Pardon, says he, that were a way to see All the town-curs take each their snatch at me.] The allusion is to a fable of Phædrus, who makes Esop the author of it. WHAL. For the Bermudas, &c. see vol. iv. p. 407. |