To the Right Honourable Thomas, Earl of Danby, Viscount |
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Latimer, and Baron Osborne of Kiveton in Yorkshire, Lord |
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High Treasurer of England, One of His Majesty’s Most |
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Honourable Privy Council, and Knight of the Most Noble |
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Order of the Garter, etc. |
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My Lord, |
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The gratitude of poets is so troublesome a virtue to great |
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men that you are often in danger of your own benefits, for |
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you are threatened with some epistle, and not suffered to do |
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good in quiet, or to compound for their silence whom you |
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have obliged. Yet, I confess, I neither am nor ought to be |
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surprised at this indulgence, for your Lordship has the same |
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right to favour poetry which the great and noble have ever |
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had: |
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There is somewhat of a tie in nature betwixt those who |
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are born for worthy actions and those who can transmit them |
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to posterity, and though ours be much the inferior part, it |
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comes at least within the verge of alliance; nor are we unprofitable |
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members of the commonwealth, when we animate others to those |
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virtues which we copy and describe from you. |
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’Tis indeed their interest who endeavour the subversion of |
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governments to discourage poets and historians, for the best |
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which can happen to them is to be forgotten: but such who, |
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under kings, are the fathers of their country, and by a just |
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and prudent ordering of affairs preserve it, have the same |
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reason to cherish the chroniclers of their actions as they have |
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to lay up in safety the deeds and evidences of their estates, |
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for such records are their undoubted titles to the love and |
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reverence of after ages. Your Lordship’s administration has |
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already taken up a considerable part of the English annals, |
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and many of its most happy years are owing to it. His Majesty, |
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the most knowing judge of men and the best master, has |
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acknowledged the ease and benefit he receives in the incomes |
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of his Treasury, which you found not only disordered but |
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exhausted. All things were in the confusion of a chaos, |
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without form or method, if not reduced beyond it even to |
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annihilation, so that you had not only to separate the jarring |
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elements, but (if that boldness of expression might be allowed |
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me) to create them. Your enemies had so embroiled the |
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management of your office that they looked on your advancement |
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as the instrument of your ruin. And, as if the clogging |
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of the revenue and the confusion of accounts which you |
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found in your entrance were not sufficient, they added their |
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own weight of malice to the public calamity by forestalling |
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the credit which should cure it. Your friends on the other |
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side were only capable of pitying, but not of aiding you. No |
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farther help or counsel was remaining to you but what was |
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founded on yourself, and that indeed was your security: for |
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your diligence, your constancy, and your prudence wrought |
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more surely within when they were not disturbed by any |
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outward motion. The highest virtue is best to be trusted with |
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itself, for assistance only can be given by a genius superior to |
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that which it assists. And ’tis the noblest kind of debt when |
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we are only obliged to God and Nature. This, then, my Lord, |
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is your just commendation, that you have wrought out yourself |
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a way to glory by those very means that were designed for |
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your destruction. You have not only restored but advanced |
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the revenues of your master without grievance to the subject; |
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and as if that were little yet, the debts of the Exchequer, |
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which lay heaviest both on the Crown and on private persons, |
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have by your conduct been established in a certainty of |
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satisfaction: an action so much the more great and honourable |
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because the case was without the ordinary relief of laws, |
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above the hopes of the afflicted, and beyond the narrowness |
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of the Treasury to redress, had it been managed by a less able |
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hand. ’Tis certainly the happiest and most unenvied part of |
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none; to receive at once the prayers of the subject and the |
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praises of the prince; and by the care of your conduct, to give |
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him means of exerting the chiefest (if any be the chiefest) of |
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his royal virtues, his distributive justice to the deserving, and |
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his bounty and compassion to the wanting. The disposition |
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of princes towards their people cannot better be discovered |
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than in the choice of their ministers, who, like the animal |
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spirits betwixt the soul and body, participate somewhat of |
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both natures, and make the communication which is betwixt |
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them. A king who is just and moderate in his nature, who |
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rules according to the laws, whom God made happy by |
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forming the temper of his soul to the constitution of his |
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government, and who makes us happy by assuming over us |
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no other sovereignty than that wherein our welfare and |
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liberty consists: a prince, I say, of so excellent a character, |
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and so suitable to the wishes of all good men, could not better |
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have conveyed himself into his people’s apprehensions than |
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in your Lordship’s person, who so lively express the same |
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virtues that you seem not so much a copy as an emanation of |
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him. Moderation is doubtless an establishment of greatness, |
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but there is a steadiness of temper which is likewise requisite |
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in a minister of state: so equal a mixture of both virtues that |
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he may stand like an isthmus betwixt the two encroaching |
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seas of arbitrary power and lawless anarchy. The undertaking |
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would be difficult to any but an extraordinary genius, to |
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stand at the line and to divide the limits; to pay what is |
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due to the great representative of the nation, and neither to |
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enhance nor to yield up the undoubted prerogatives of the |
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Crown. These, my Lord, are the proper virtues of a noble Englishman, |
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as indeed they are properly English virtues, no |
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people in the world being capable of using them but we |
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who have the happiness to be born under so equal and so |
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well-poised a government: a government which has all the advantages |
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of liberty beyond a commonwealth, and all the marks |
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my nature, as I am an Englishman, and my reason, as I am |
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a man, have bred in me a loathing to that specious name of |
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a republic: that mock appearance of a liberty, where all who |
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have not part in the government are slaves, and slaves they are |
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of a viler note than such as are subjects to an absolute dominion: |
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for no Christian monarchy is so absolute but ’tis circumscribed |
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with laws; but when the executive power is in the lawmakers, |
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there is no farther check upon them, and the people must |
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suffer without a remedy because they are oppressed by their |
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representatives. If I must serve, the number of my masters, |
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who were born my equals, would but add to the ignominy |
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of my bondage. The nature of our government, above |
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situation of our all others, is exactly suited both to the |
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country and the temper of the natives, an island being more |
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proper for commerce and for defence than for extending its |
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dominions on the continent: for what the valour of its |
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inhabitants might gain, by reason of its remoteness and the |
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casualties of the seas it could not so easily preserve; and |
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therefore neither the arbitrary power of one in a monarchy, |
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nor of many in a commonwealth, could make us greater |
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than we are. ’Tis true that vaster and more frequent taxes |
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might be gathered when the consent of the people was |
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not asked or needed, but this were only by conquering |
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abroad to be poor at home; and the examples of our neighbours |
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teach us that they are not always the happiest subjects |
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whose kings extend their dominions farthest. Since, therefore, |
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we cannot win by an offensive war, at least a land war, |
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the model of our government seems naturally contrived for |
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the defensive part, and the consent of a people is easily |
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obtained to contribute to that power which must protect it. |
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Felices nimium, bona si sua norint. Angligenae. And yet there |
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are not wanting malcontents amongst us, who, surfeiting |
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themselves on too much happiness, would persuade the |
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the policy of their old forefather, when himself was fallen |
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from the station of glory, to seduce mankind into the same |
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rebellion with him by telling him he might yet be freer than |
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he was: that is, more free than his nature would allow, or (if |
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I may so say) than God could make him. We have already |
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all the liberty which freeborn subjects can enjoy, and all beyond |
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it is but licence. But if it be liberty of conscience which |
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they pretend, the moderation of our church is such that its |
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practice extends not to the severity of persecution, and its |
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discipline is withal so easy that it allows more freedom to |
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dissenters than any of the sects would allow to it. In the meantime, |
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what right can be pretended by these men to attempt |
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innovations in church or state? Who made them the trustees |
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or (to speak a little nearer their own language) the keepers |
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of the liberty of England? If their call be extraordinary, let |
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them convince us by working miracles; for ordinary vocation |
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they can have none to disturb the government under which they |
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were born, and which protects them. He who has often |
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changed his party, and always has made his interest the rule |
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of it, gives little evidence of his sincerity for the public good: |
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’tis manifest he changes but for himself, and takes the people |
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for tools to work his fortune. Yet the experience of all ages |
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might let him know that they who trouble the waters first |
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have seldom the benefit of the fishing; as they who began the |
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late rebellion enjoyed not the fruit of their undertaking, but |
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were crushed themselves by the usurpation of their own |
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instrument. Neither is it enough for them to answer that they |
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only intend a reformation of the government, but not the |
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subversion of it: on such pretences all insurrections have |
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been founded; ’tis striking at the root of power, which is |
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obedience. Every remonstrance of private men has the seed |
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of treason in it, and discourses which are couched in ambiguous |
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terms are therefore the more dangerous because they do |
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all the mischief of open sedition, yet are safe from the punishment |
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of the laws. These, my Lord, are considerations which I should not |
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pass so lightly over had I room to manage them as they deserve; |
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for no man can be so inconsiderable in a nation as not to have a |
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share in the welfare of it, and, if he be a true Englishman, he must |
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at the same time be fired with indignation, and revenge himself |
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as he can on the disturbers of his country. And to whom could I |
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more fitly apply myself than to your Lordship, who have not only |
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an inborn but an hereditary loyalty? The memorable constancy |
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and sufferings of your father, almost to the ruin of his |
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estate for the royal cause, were an earnest of that which such |
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a parent and such an institution would produce in the person |
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of a son. But so unhappy an occasion of manifesting your |
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own zeal in suffering for his present Majesty, the Providence |
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of God and the prudence of your administration will, I hope, |
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prevent; that as your father’s fortune waited on the un- |
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happiness of his sovereign, so your own may participate of |
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the better fate which attends his son. The relation which you |
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have by alliance to the noble family of your lady serves to |
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confirm to you both this happy augury. For what can deserve |
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a greater place in the English chronicle than the loyalty and |
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courage, the actions and death, of the general of an army |
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fighting for his prince and country? The honour and gallantry |
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of the Earl of Lindsey is so illustrious a subject that ’tis fit |
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to adorn an heroic poem, for he was the proto-martyr of the |
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cause, and the type of his unfortunate royal master. |
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Yet, after all, my Lord, if I may speak my thoughts, you |
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are happy rather to us than to yourself: for the multiplicity, |
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the cares, and the vexations of your employment have betrayed |
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you from yourself, and given you up into the possession |
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of the public. You are robbed of your privacy and friends, and |
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scarce any hour of your life you can call your own. Those |
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who envy your fortune, if they wanted not good nature, |
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might more justly pity it; and when they see you watched |
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by a crowd of suitors, whose importunity ’tis impossible to |
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much more in true content than you have gained by |
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dignity, and that a private gentleman is better attended by a |
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single servant than your Lordship with so clamorous a train. |
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Pardon me, my Lord, if I speak like a philosopher on this |
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subject: the fortune which makes a man uneasy cannot make |
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him happy, and a wise man must think himself uneasy when |
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few of his actions are in his choice. |
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This last consideration has brought me to another, and a |
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very seasonable one for your relief, which is, that while I pity |
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your want of leisure, I have impertinently detained you so |
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long a time. I have put off my own business, which was my |
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dedication, till ’tis so late that I am now ashamed to begin it; |
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and therefore I will say nothing of the poem which I present |
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to you, because I know not if you are like to have an hour which, |
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with a good conscience, you may throw away in perusing it. And |
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for the author, I have only to beg the continuance of your protection |
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to him, who is, |
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My Lord, |
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Your Lordship’s most obliged |
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most humble, and most |
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obedient servant, |
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JOHN DRYDEN. |
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