e stubborn Britons own your beauty's claim,
And with their native toasts enroll your name.

[Footnote 1: Collins's Peerage. See Article Hallifax.]

* * * * *

WILLIAM WYCHERLEY, Esq;

This Gentleman was son of Daniel Wycherley, of Cleve in Shropshire, Esq;
and was born (says Wood) in the year 1640.

When he was about fifteen years of age, he was sent to France, in the
western parts of which he resided upon the banks of the Charante; where
he was often admitted to the conversation of the most accomplished
ladies of the court of France, particularly madam de Montaufieur,
celebrated by mons. Voiture in his letters[1].

A little before the restoration of Charles the IId, he became a
gentleman commoner of queen's college in Oxford, and lived in the
provost's lodgings; and was entered in the public library, under the
title of philosophiae studiosus, in July 1660. He quitted the university
without being matriculated, having, according to the Oxford antiquary,
been reconciled to the protestant religion, which he had renounced
during his travels, probably by the person of those gay ladies, with
whom he conversed in France. This circumstance shews how dangerous it
is to engage in a debate with a female antagonist, especially, if that
antagonist joins beauty with understanding.

Mr. Wycherley afterwards entered himself in the Middle-Temple; but
making his first appearance in town, in a reign when wit and gaiety were
the favourite distinctions, he relinguished the study of the law, and
engaged in pursuits more agreeable to his own genius, and the gallant
spirit of the times.

Upon writing his first Play, entitled Love in a Wood, or St. James's
Park; and acted at the Theatre-royal, in 1672, he became acquainted with
several of the most celebrated wits, both of the court and town; and
likewise with the duchess of Cleveland. Mr. Dennis, in his Letters
quoted above, has given a particular relation of the beginning of his
acquaintance with this celebrated beauty of the times, which is singular
enough.--One day Mr. Wycherley riding in his chariot through St. James's
Park, he was met by the duchess, whose chariot jostled with his, upon
which she looked out of her chariot, and spoke very audibly, "You
Wycherley, you are a son of a whore," and then burst into a fit of
laughter. Mr. Wycherley at first was very much surprized at this, but
he soon recovered himself enough to recollect, that it was