Butler also, who had not a mind very congenial with that of Stafford, seems to have imitated two lines inserted in the Niobe; the author is speaking of the debauchery and foolhardiness of young men of his day:

"These are they who, being drunk,

Will fight for a pinne, a pot, or a punk."

It is said that the author was born in Northamptonshire of a noble family, most likely a branch of that of Lord Stafford, for he wrote a small book entitled, "Honour and Virtue triumphant over the Grave; exemplified in the Life and Death of Henry Lord Stafford;" and in the epistle to the reader of his Niobe he states, that "his birth styled him a gentleman ;"* in another place he says, that he was a younger brother, "or he should have thought himself a companion for a very proper man." Whether he was a sufferer on account of his youth does not appear, but in one part of his work, he is very severe against older brothers. He was of Oriel College, and, as Lempriere asserts, was made Master of Arts in 1623; but there is reason to doubt the accuracy of this date, for though Stafford admits that, when he wrote his Niobe," he was in his spring of youth," and elsewhere adverts to his "unfortunate fortunes and unstaied youth," he could scarcely be less than twenty years old at the time; and to suppose that he did not take his degree till 1623, would postpone it to rather too late a period; probably it ought to be 1613. It is to be recollected also, that the volume on our table is the second edition, and though a first has never we believe been heard of, it must have been of an earlier date than 1611. Lempriere, the only biographer who mentions Stafford, had never seen the first part of his Niobe, which is of extreme rarity. He fixes his death in 1641, and justly terms him a man of great learning. The following is the list of works ascribed to him by the same writer, exclusive of those we have already noticed ::"Meditations and Resolutions," 12mo.

"Life and Death of Diogenes.' "Life of the Virgin Mary."

"The Pride of Honour.

To these we have to add a small 24mo. volume, which also had never fallen under the eye of the biographer, called

In his address" to the long-eared reader,” he observes" that his name admits of but few comparatives;" and in the second part of the Niobe, his spleen accuses him" for that he (not having an eye ad genus, et proavos, et quæ nos fecimus ipsi) lived at a rate far below the height of his blood."

"The Day of Salvation," 1635: the dedication is, " To the most happy Mistresse of all imaginable Graces, which beautifie and enoble the Body and Mind, the Lady Theophila Coke;" in which Stafford states, that he should shortly place her name "before a farre greater worke, which (Heaven assisting) might eternize her and itselfe." He refers, probably, to "The Femall Glory, or the Life and Death of our Blessed Lady, the Holy Virgin Mary," which is inscribed to the same lady, and bears date in the same year, and most likely appeared very soon after "The Day of Salvation."* This work is written in a very mystical rhapsodical strain, and gave great offence to the puritans from some of the tenets promulgated in it: indeed the Niobe appears to have experienced much opposition. Stafford never was married, for he asserts that he had made a vow against it; and in page 117 of the first part, he observes, "I do not enuie, but emulate, the happinesse of the late Josephus Scaliger, who being descended from Princes, and hauing all his race in his reines, fledde the societie of wanton women; fearing least he should beget one, who might one day destroy his familie, and take lustre from it, and so he himselfe, like a semi-god, gaue a period to his parentage. O! if a man had all his linage in his loines, it were braue smothering it there rather then heereafter to let any crooked branch deforme the beautie of the whole stocke; or any disorderly person, either in life or death, to purchase infamy to his whole family."

After a dedication to the Earl of Salisbury, and an address" to the Reader in generall," follows a curious epistle" to the long-eared Reader," in which the author refers to the objections made to the first edition of the Niobe; one of which was that "he had thought himself worthy of Sir Philip Sidneys company;" to this he replies as follows:

"Truly sir, I will make no comparisons with that Superlatiue (although I knowe that my name admitteth few comparatiues): but this I will say, that had not elder nature made mee a younger brother, I should have thought my selfe a companion for a very proper man.

The epistle to Lady T. Coke is sufficiently fulsome. "My motives for the dedication of this ensuing treatise to your Ladiship, are three-your knowledge, your vertue, and my own obligation, &c. Had I written to your Ladiship in the Roman language, the French, the Italian, or the Spanish, they had beene almost as familiar to you as this your native tongue, in which you are mistresse of so great an elegancy, that no words are so fit as your owne to eternize your own actions," &c.

But, I mean shortly to lead fortune to the Curer of sight in Holborne: and if he can recouer her sight, I make no doubt but when she sees me, shee will doe something for me. Howso-euer, Sir, for your better satisfaction, it shall suffice you to knowe, that Sir Philip Sydney hath appeared to me in a vision (when the eyes of my intellect were dazeled with the bright beames of his soules beautie) and called me his fauorite after death, the renewer of his renowne, & the glazer of his glorie. Geuerous Gentleman, said he, vvhose neuer-glozing spirit this fawning age vvill neuer reward; my soule bowes herselfe to thee, & breathes her loue vpon thee, for making her immortall to all mortalitie: a beuefit, for the which Ingratitude herselfe would yeeld thanks. I heare saie, that some Pedanticall pate hath tearmed thee saucie, for daring to approach so neere my presence; not knowing that a title, is not worth a tittle; it being onelie an accident of gentilitie; and therefore, may be with, or from it, sine interitu subiecti. Manie haue beene degraded of their titles: but of gentilitie no man can be depriued. But list; Fate calls me back: no more then but this; that since thou neuer sawest my bodie, and yet thy soule maketh loue to mine: knowe, that mine returnes loue; vvhich shall proue perpetuall. Farewell: & beliue this, that no man will scorne thy companie, except those, who esteeme a shoppe-puppie (that can onelie shewe himselfe) better then a Gentleman that truelie vnderstands himselfe.

"No sooner had this Miracle of Nature ended (to me) the Oracle of Wisdome, but that he vanisheth, & my soule flew after him, attending him till hee tooke sanctuarie in that sanctified place, where nothing that is profane can enter.

"Now Mr. Carper, if you belieue that this vision vvas onelie a strong imagination of mine, or rather a fable, you may so doe; but I vvill assure you, that in acknovvledgement of the fauour, & grace he did me, I cannot but adde that vvhich Homer hath of Hector, and applie it to him:

Non hominis certè mortalis filius ille

Esse videbatur, sed diuo semíne natus.

"Nay: I vvill yet goe further, and affirme, that if I should compare a Philip of England, with Philip of Macedon, my comparison would not bee so absurd, as Plutarchs comparing Agesilaus vvith Pompey. I speake not this to flatter even the loftiest of his linage: for, I hold it as base to flatter man, as it is vaine to flatter God."

The work itself opens with a dialogue between the author and his Soule: he eloquently asks, "Is not this rotten body, this all-corruption, this worst of earth, a sufficient prison vnto thee, but that thou thy selfe must become a prison to thy selfe?" In reply, his Soule launches out in invectives upon the deluge of sin which covers the age: he declares, that "his pen following his hearts motion, trembleth, the paper waxeth wan and pale, and the inke CRIT. REV. VOL. IV. Oct. 1816.

3 H

putteth on melancholies sad hew," when he writes of the corruptions of the times, in which were verified the words of Seneca-Habebitur aliquando ebrietate honor, et plurimum meri cepisse virtus erit: he inveighs against drunkenness, pride, and flattery, and then censures the quarrelsome disposition of that time, so celebrated for duelling, that some men made it their profession, and with the most unlicensed daring held out public challenges to all comers. The distinction between true valour and fool-hardy impetuosity is well drawn in a few words.

"The first of these (quarrelling) hath more by tongue, then sword, purchased to it selfe the name of valour: which indeed is no neerer to valour then phrensie to wisedome. True valour biddeth a man fight pro patria, et patre patriæ; this bastarde courage incites a man to fight cum fratre, cum patre: the former perswadeth a man to be carefull not onelie that hee take no iniurie, but (euen religious) that hee doe none; the later saith, that hee is worthy of iniury that offers none. The one saith, Fight being prouoked; the other sayes, Prouoke to fight. And therefore I thinke that Seneca spake rather out of the greatnesse of his mind, then the depth of his wisedome, when he defined fortitude to bee Scientia periculorum repellendorum, excipiendorum, prouocandorum: that is, A Science of repelling, of receiving and provoking dangers The later of which is false; seeing there is uo man wisely valiant, who will not rather inuoke helpe against danger than prouoke it." (p. 30-32.)

This pugnacious disposition he names one of the daughters of drunkenness, and another is licentiousness, which he maintains was never before carried to such a fearful extreme. The following quotation exhibits very extraordinary powers of language, and some humour: he is answering those who hold it to be no offence.

"No, no it is no offence at all to allow him so much for euerie course: so causing him to spend flesh for siluer, till he become so lank and leane, that his legs are scarce able to support their late portly young master; going still as if hee were sitting, (occasioned through the imbecillitie of his hamme-strings) and so drie, that a marrow-bone-man, if hee should boile his bones, could scarce get out two droppes of moisture: his eyes so hollow, that they runne back to salute his memory, least she should forget them; and his cheekes denting-in, as if he were still sucking at a bottle. And now my braue slaue, being a neighbour to death, beginneth to find that all this while he hath mistaken, and worshipped a false deity for a true; and that therefore (though ceasing, through weaknes, to burne here in lust) he shal euer burne in neuer-consuming fire. Where is his mistresse now? whose praises should bee written with pennes of Angels wings; whose drinke should bee Nectar and Ambrosia. Hee now must leaue her behinde him, common to men, that shall one day bee common to diuels. It breedeth astonishment

in me, to heare a man stile a woman, Diuine creature, of a heavenly feature, goddess of my thoughts, natures vttermost indeuour, &c. whose bodie he knoweth to bee compos'd of putrefaction, and shall one daie come to that degree of rottenness, that (as she now, in the nostrils of God) it shall stink in the nostrils both of men and beastes. Reason and Religion teach a man (as her remembrancer) thus to court his Mistress: Faire Queene of dust and durt, will it please your euery-hower-decaying maiestie, after some fewe yeares, or moneths, or daies, to have those star-shining eyes of yours eaten-out with wormes, and the holes become cages for cankers? when your delicate, smooth body shall be enfolded in earths rugged armes; and your soft, swelling, moist, ruby lippes be kissed by her mouldy mouth; whe your pure red and white, shall be turned into poore browne and blacke; and that face, which hath driven so many into consumptions, shall it selfe bee consumed to nothing. Yet, for all this, our young gentlemen will not forbeare their amorous, profane, loue-discourses; but yeelde as much honour to women, as to their Maker." (p. 89--43.)

There have been various opinions among writers whether poverty be, or be not, an evil: poets, who have generally severely suffered under it, have often taken an ineffectual revenge upon it in their writings: Chaucer in one piece terms it "a hateful good," but before he has proceeded far, he admits that "very povert is sinne properly;' and Stafford is of the same opinion, for he accuses it of being the "veile of wisdome, curbe to the minde, the common enemy to vertue:" indeed, none bestow upon it applause, unless it be accompanied by content, (certainly not its ordinary associate,) and then, as Bentley well says in his only English poem, the possessor is

"Great without patron, rich without South Sea."

Swearing is next censured; and of avarice our author observes, that "it first made theft so capitall a crime; it having in this our Land a greater punishment allotted to it then adulterie, and many more enormous, hainous crimes;" and then he sarcastically adds, "I know no reason why adulterie should not be rewarded with death, as well as theft, but onelie this, that whereas man accounts his wife but onely as flesh of his flesh and bone of his bone, he esteems of his coyne, as soule of his soule.' In a free, and rather rambling style, he traces the progress of a child from infancy to manhood, shewing the various trials his virtue has to encounter, which brings the author to reflect upon the degraded state of nobility and gentry at the time he wrote. Here, as the reader will perceive by the ensuing quotation, he bursts out in a curious rhapsodical apostrophe to the soul of Sir Philip Sidney, of whom we have already seen that he was a most enthusiastic worshipper.