The finest feature of her character was her devotion to her husband. Although she declares herself to have been devoid of any “passion,” or “amourous love,” a study of her biography of Newcastle inclines one to think that on this point she deceived herself; unless, as is possible, the place of passionate love was supplied by unqualified hero-worship. She had a profound admiration for his talents. Exaggerated as is her praise in the following lines, it at least shows an affectionate devotion. They occur at the end of her book of poems:—
A Poet I am neither born nor bred,
But to a witty poet married,
Whose brain is fresh, and pleasant as the Spring,
Where fancies grow, and where the Muses sing;
There oft I lean my head, and listening hark,
T’observe his words, and all his fancies mark,
And from that garden flowers of fancy take,
Whereof a posy up in verse I make:
Thus I that have no garden of my own