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Duke of Buckinghamshire, son of the Earl of Mulgrave, was born in 1649 and died in 1720. Buckingham House, in St. James's Park, since converted into a royal palace, was originally erected for him. The poem quoted is sometimes found attributed to George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham (1627-1688), a man of a sadly different type.

Come, Celia, let's agree at last

COME, Celia, let's agree at last

To love and live in quiet;
Let's tie the knot so very fast

That time shall ne'er untie it.
Love's dearest joys they never prove,
Who free from quarrels live;
'Tis sure a godlike part of love
Each other to forgive.

When least I seemed concerned I took

No pleasure, nor had rest ;

And when I feigned an angry look,

Alas! I loved you best.

Say but the same to me, you'll find

How blest will be our fate;

Sure to be grateful, to be kind,
Can never be too late.

Thomas Otway

the distinguished dramatist, son of the rector of Woebeding, was born at Trotton in Sussex in 1651. He commenced his career in London by attempting the part of the King in Mrs. Behn's piece, Forced Marriage, or the Jealous Bridegroom (1671), but meeting with failure as player he turned playwright. Then he spent time and substance in noble circles, where his companionship was tolerated for his wit and social qualities. But, having helped to rid him of his money, the men of rank deserted him, saving the Earl of Plymouth, who obtained for him a cornet's commission in some troops then sent into Flanders. On the death of the King's son at Tangier, in his twenty-second year, the poet lost his influential friend. Back again in London, Otway produced various pieces. Poverty seemed habitually to pursue him, and towards the end he sought escape from his creditors by secreting himself in a public-house on Tower Hill. His death, which quickly followed, has been variously attributed to fever, and in the rage of hunger to choking by the first mouthful of a roll bought by him with money he had just begged.

'Sunk to the cold earth Otway's famished form,

says Coleridge, in his musings upon 'mighty poets in their misery dead.' Certain it is he was sadly neglected through life, and that, neglected, he died in 1685. The oft quoted lines

O woman! lovely woman! Nature made thee

To temper man: we had been brutes without you;

Angels are painted fair, to look like you:

There's in you all that we believe of Heaven,

Amazing brightness, purity, and truth,

Eternal joy, and everlasting love—

occur in Otway's play, Venice Preserved; or a Plot Discovered (1682).

Thomas Otway

The Enchantment

I DID but look and love a-while,
'Twas but for one half-hour;

Then to resist I had no will,
And now I have no power.

To sigh and wish is all my ease;
Sighs, which do best impart,
Enough to melt the coldest ice,
Yet cannot warm your heart.

O would your pity give my heart
One corner of your breast,

'Twould learn of yours the winning art And quickly steal the rest.

Anne Finch

Countess of Winchilsea, the daughter of a Hampshire baronet, was born about 1660. Mr. Edmund Gosse, in his delightfully entertaining volume, Gossip in a Library (1891), mentions the acquisition by him of a folio volume of old manuscript poetry, which turned out to be a vast collection of Lady Winchilsea's poems. She was Maid of Honour to Mary of Modena, Duchess of York, and at Court met Heneage Finch, who was Gentleman of the Bedchamber to the Duke. They married in 1685, and at the trouble in 1688, retired into the country, where they remained the rest of their lives. In 1712 her husband became fourth Earl of Winchilsea, and about a year later, Lady Winchilsea was induced to publish a selection of her poems. In 1720 she died. The appended poem, written in 1685, was never printed till Mr. Gosse transcribed it from the manuscript, and with his permission it is here inserted, chiefly for the much virtue contained in the sixth line.

To my Husband

THIS, to the crown and blessing of my life,
The much-loved husband of a happy wife;
To him whose constant passion found the art
To win a stubborn and ungrateful heart;
And to the world by tenderest proof discovers
They err who say that husbands can't be lovers.
With such return by passion as is due,

Daphnis I love, Daphnis my thoughts pursue,
Daphnis, my hopes, my joys are bounded all in you!

His

was born in 1662, and was educated at Westminster and Oxford. eloquent preaching obtained distinction for him, and after engaging in a church dispute his position advanced rapidly. He was appointed to the Bishopric of Rochester in 1713. Exerting himself on behalf of the Pretender, he rendered himself obnoxious to George 1., and was banished. He died an exile in Paris, 1731.

Written on a White Fan

BORROWED FROM MISS OSBORNE, AFTERWARDS
HIS WIFE

FLAVIA the least and slightest toy
Can with resistless art employ !

This Fan in meaner hands would prove

An engine of small force in love :

Yet she with graceful air and mien,

Not to be told, or safely seen,

Directs its wanton motions so

That it wounds more than Cupid's bow;

Gives coolness to the matchless dame,

To every other breast—a flame!