Scan. Then I have a lady burning brandy in a cellar with a hackney coachman.
Mrs. F. Oh! well, but that story is not true.
Scan. I have some hieroglyphics, too; I have a lawyer with a hundred hands, two heads, and but one face; a divine with two faces and one head; and I have a soldier with his brains in his belly, and his heart where his head should be.
It has been said that Congreve retired on the appearance of Mrs. Centlivre, but so high was the opinion entertained of his genius that he was buried in Westminster Abbey, and his pall was supported by noblemen. Pope was one of his greatest admirers, and dedicated his translation of Homer to him.
Dryden writes on Congreve.
"In easy dialogue is Fletcher's praise,
He moved the mind, but had not power to raise,
Great Jonson did by strength of judgment please,
Yet doubling Fletcher's force, he wants his ease.
In differing talents both adorned their age,
One for the study, t'other for the stage,
But both to Congreve justly shall submit,
One matched in judgment, both over-matched in wit."
Macaulay says "the wit of Congreve far outshines that of every comic writer, except Sheridan, who has arisen within the last two centuries."
Lord Dorset of whom we have above spoken deserves some passing notice. He was high in the favour of Charles II., James, and William; and was one of the most accomplished of the courtiers of that day, who, notwithwstanding their dissipation, were more or less scholars, and wrote poetry. What was better, he was a munificent supporter of real literary genius, and patronized Dryden, and to judge by their commendations was not neglectful of Congreve and Pope.
Most of his poems are in the pastoral strain, but do not show any great talent. Two or three of them have some humour—
"Dorinda's sparkling wit and eyes
United, cast too fierce a light,
Which blazes high, but quickly dies,
Pains not the heart, but hurts the sight;