otorious Duchess of
Cleveland was so captivated by his appearance, that she made his
acquaintance when passing in her carriage by jocosely calling out at him
some abusive epithets. Afterwards, we are told that she often visited
Wycherley at the Temple, disguised as a country girl in a straw hat,
with pattens on her feet, and a basket on her arm. Later, he had the
misfortune to make the acquaintance of the Countess of Drogheda on the
Pantiles at Tunbridge Wells, and by secretly marrying her incurred the
King's displeasure. He was finally reduced to great distress, but James
II., recognising his talent, gave him a pension, and saved him from
destitution in his old age.

Wycherley wrote his first play in 1667. In comparing him with
Shakespeare we find the same difference as existed between the old and
new comedy in Greece. Political characters have disappeared together
with hostility and combats on the stage, while amorous intrigue is
largely developed. There is at the same time considerable sprightliness
in the dialogue, and the tricks, deceptions and misadventures of lovers
fill the pages with much that is ingenious and amusing. In the
"Gentleman Dancing Master," a young spark pretends to a rich father that
he is only visiting his daughter to teach her to dance. A rival lover--a
Frenchified puppy--is made unconsciously to co-operate in his own
discomfiture, while the duped father jokes with the supposed "dancing
master," and asks him whether he is not engaged to one of his rich
pupils, laughing heartily at the picture he draws to himself of her
father's indignation. Again, in "A Country Wife," a jealous husband
obliges his spouse to write a disdainful letter to a gallant, but the
lady slyly substitutes one of quite a different character, which the
husband duly and pompously delivers to him. The humour of Wycherley is
almost entirely of this kind. Here are no verbal quips, no sallies of
professed fools, no stupidities of country boobies. These have passed
away from good comedy. Speaking of the change, he says that formerly
they were contented to make serving-men fools on the stage, "but now you
shall scarcely see a fool on the stage who is not a knight." The fact
was that a higher kind of humour was required, and accordingly we now,
for the first time, hear of "wits"--men of good birth and position, who
prided themselves on their talent. They were generally remarkable for
their manners and address, and affected a superior