Thomas Overbury, in which he preserved a few lines of his former play, but made a total alteration of the plan, added new incidents, and introduced new characters; fo that it was a new tragedy, not a revival of the former.

Many of his friends blamed him for not making choice of another subject; but, in vindication of himself, he afferted, that it was not easy to find a better; and that he thought it his interest to extinguish the memory of the firft tragedy, which he could only do by writing one lefs defective upon the fame ftory; by which he should entirely defeat the artifice of the bookfellers, who, after the death of any author of reputation, are always induftrious to fwell his works, by uniting his worst productions with his best.

In the execution of this fcheme, however,.. he proceeded but flowly, and probably only employed himself upon it when he could find no other amusement; but he pleased himself with counting the profits, and perhaps imagined, that the theatrical reputation which he was about to acquire, would be equivalent to

all that he had loft by the death of his patronefs.

He did not, in confidence of his approaching riches, neglect the measures proper to fecure the continuance of his penfion, though fome of his favourers thought him culpable for omitting to write on her death; but on her birth-day next year, he gave a proof of the folidity of his judgement, and the power of his genius. He knew that the track of elegy had been fo long beaten, that it was impoffible to travel in it without treading in the footsteps of those who had gone before him; and that therefore it was neceffary, that he might diftinguish himself from the herd of encomiafts, to find out fome new walk of funeral panegyric.

This difficult tafk he performed in fuch a manner, that his poem may be justly ranked among the beft pieces that the death of princes has produced. By transferring the mention of her death to her birth-day, he has formed a happy combination of topics, which any other man would have thought it very difficult to connect in one view, but which he

has

has united in fuch a manner, that the relation between them appears natural; and it may be justly said, that what no other man would have thought on, it now appears scarcely poffible for any man to miss.

The beauty of this peculiar combination of images is so masterly, that it is fufficient to fet this poem above cenfure; and therefore it is not neceffary to mention many other delicate touches which may be found in it, and which would defervedly be admired in any other performance.

To these proofs of his genius may be added, from the fame poem, an inftance of his prudence, an excellence for which he was not fo often diftinguished; he does not forget to remind the King, in the most delicate and artful manner, of continuing his pension.

With regard to the fuccefs of this address, he was for fome time in fufpence, but was in no great degree folicitous about it; and continued his labour upon his new tragedy with great tranquillity, till the friend who had for a confiderable time fupported him, removing

his family to another place, took occafion to dismiss him. It then became neceffary to enquire more diligently what was determined in his affair, having reafon to fufpect that no great favour was intended him, because he had not received his penfion at the usual time.

It is faid, that he did not take those methods of retrieving his intereft, which were moft likely to fucceed; and fome of those who were employed in the Exchequer, cautioned him against too much violence in his proceedings; but Mr. Savage, who feldom regulated his conduct by the advice of others, gave way to his paffion, and demanded of Sir Robert Walpole, at his levee, the reason of the distinction that was made between him and the other penfioners of the Queen, with a degree of roughness which perhaps determined him to withdraw what had been only delayed.

Whatever was the crime of which he was accufed or suspected, and whatever influence was employed against him, he received foon after an account that took from him all hopes

of

of regaining his penfion; and he had now no prospect of subsistence but from his play, and he knew no way of living for the time required to finish it.

So peculiar were the misfortunes of this man, deprived of an estate and title by a particular law, expofed and abandoned by a mother, defrauded by a mother of a fortune which his father had allotted him, he entered the world without a friend; and though his abilities forced themselves into esteem and reputation, he was never able to obtain any real advantage, and whatever prospects arose were always intercepted as he began to approach them. The King's intentions in his favour were fruftrated; his dedication to the Prince, whofe generofity on every other occafion was eminent, procured him no reward; Sir Robert Walpole, who valued himself upon keeping his promise to others, broke it to him without regret; and the bounty of the Queen was, after her death, withdrawn from him, and from him only.

Such were his misfortunes, which yet he bore, not only with decency, but with cheerfulness;