cherley
seems to have been apprehensive that this connection might not suit well
with the King's plans respecting the Duke of Richmond. He accordingly
prevailed on the lady to consent to a private marriage. All came out.
Charles thought the conduct of Wycherley both disrespectful and
disingenuous. Other causes probably assisted to alienate the sovereign
from the subject who had lately been so highly favored. Buckingham was
now in opposition, and had been committed to the Tower; not, as Mr.
Leigh Hunt supposes, on a charge of treason, but by an order of the
House of Lords for some expressions which he had used in debate.
Wycherley wrote some bad lines in praise of his imprisoned patron,
which, if they came to the knowledge of the King, would certainly have
made His Majesty very angry. The favor of the court was completely
withdrawn from the poet. An amiable woman with a large fortune might
indeed have been an ample compensation for the loss. But Lady Drogheda
was ill-tempered, imperious, and extravagantly jealous. She had herself
been a maid of honor at Whitehall. She well knew in what estimation
conjugal fidelity was held among the fine gentlemen there, and watched
her town husband as assiduously as Mr. Pinchwife watched his country
wife. The unfortunate wit was, indeed, allowed to meet his friends at a
tavern opposite to his own house. But on such occasions the windows were
always open, in order that her Ladyship, who was posted on the other
side of the street, might be satisfied that no woman was of the party.

The death of Lady Drogheda released the poet from this distress; but a
series of disasters, in rapid succession, broke down his health, his
spirits, and his fortune. His wife meant to leave him a good property,
and left him only a lawsuit. His father could not or would not assist
him. Wycherley was at length thrown into the Fleet, and languished there
during seven years, utterly forgotten, as it should seem, by the gay and
lively circle of which he had been a distinguished ornament. In the
extremity of his distress he implored the publisher who had been
enriched by the sale of his works to lend him twenty pounds, and was
refused. His comedies, however, still kept possession of the stage, and
drew great audiences which troubled themselves little about the
situation of the author. At length James the Second, who had now
succeeded to the throne, happened to go to the theatre on an evening
when the Plain Dealer was