He was preferred to the first dutches of Richmond to wayte on her as a page. I remember he told me, she sent him to a famous apothecary for some Unicornes-horne, which he was resolved to try with a spider which he incircled[772] in it, but without the expected successe; the spider would goe over, and thorough and thorough, unconcerned.
He was next a servant (as I remember, a page also) to Sir Fulke Grevil[773] lord Brookes, with whom he lived to his death, which was that a servant of his (that had long wayted on him and his lordship had often told him that he would doe something for him, but did not but still putt him off with delayes) as he was trussing up his lord's pointes comeinge from stoole (for then their breeches were fastned to the doubletts with points—then came in hookes and eies—which not to have fastened was in my boy-hood a great crime) stabbed him. This was at the same time that the duke of Buckingham was stabbed by Felton, and the great noise and report of the duke's, Sir William told me, quite drowned this of his lord's, that 'twas scarce taken notice of. This Sir Fulke G. was a good witt, and had been a good poet[774] in his youth. He wrote a poeme in folio which he printed not till he was old, and then, (as Sir W. said) with too much judgment and refining, spoyld it, which was at first a delicate thing.
He writt a play or playes, and verses, which he did with so much sweetnesse and grace, that by it he got the love and friendship of his two Mecaenasses, Mr. Endymion Porter, and Mr. Henry Jermyn (since earl of St. Albans), to whom he has dedicated his poem called Madegascar. Sir John Suckling also was his great and intimate friend.
After the death of Ben Johnson he was made in his place Poet Laureat.
He gott a terrible clap of a black handsome wench that lay in Axe-yard, Westminster, whom he thought on when he speakes of Dalga in Gondibert, which cost him his nose, with which unlucky mischance many witts were to<o> cruelly bold: e.g. Sir John Menis, Sir John Denham, &c.
[775]In 1641, when the troubles began, he was faine to fly into France, and at Canterbury he was seised on by the mayor—vide Sir John Menis' verses—
'For Will had in his face the flawes
And markes recieved in countrey's cause:
They flew on him like lyons passant,
And tore his nose as much as was on't,
And call'd him superstitious groome,
And Popish Dog, and Cur of Rome.
. . . . . 'Twas surely the first time
That Will's religion was a crime.'
In the civill warres in England he was in the army of William, marquess of Newcastle (since duke), where he was generall of the ordinance. I have heard his brother Robert say, for that service there was owing to him by King Charles the First 10000 li. During that warre, 'twas his hap to have two aldermen of Yorke his prisoners, who were something stubborne, and would not give the ransome ordered by the councell of warr. Sir William used them civilly, and treated them in his tent, and sate them at the upper end of his table à la mode de France, and having donne so a good while to his chardge, told them (privately and friendly) that he was not able to keepe so chargeable guests, and bad them take an opportunity to escape, which they did; but having been gon a little way they considered with themselves that in gratitude they ought to goe back and give Sir William their thankes; which they did, but it was like to have been to their great danger of being taken by the soldiers; but they happened to gett safe to Yorke.
The King's party being overcome, Sir William Davenant (who received the honour of knighthood from the duke of Newcastle by commision) went into France; resided chiefly in Paris where the Prince of Wales then was. He then began to write his romance in verse, called Gondibert, and had not writt above the first booke, but being very fond of it, prints it (before a quarter finished), with an epistle of his to Mr. Thomas Hobbes and Mr. Hobbes' excellent epistle to him printed before it. The courtiers with the Prince of Wales could never be at quiet about this piece, which was the occasion of a very witty but satericall little booke of verses in 8vo. about 4 sheetes, writt by George, duke of Buckes, Sir John Denham, etc.—