natural to him in all he said or did.[1] Such at least is the written opinion of Sir William Temple. His speech to La Belle Stuart, who resisted all his importunities,—that he hoped he should live to see her "ugly and willing;"[2]—his letter to his sister on hearing of her pregnancy,[3] and his speech to his wife, "You lie: confess and be hanged,"[4] must be looked upon in connexion with the outspoken language of his age—an age in which young women, even of the higher classes, conversed without circumspection and modesty, and frequently met at taverns and common eating-houses.[5]
"If writers be just to the memory of King Charles II.," says Dryden, addressing Lord Halifax, "they cannot deny him to have been an exact knower of mankind, and a perfect distinguisher of their talents." "It is true," he continues, "his necessities often forced him to vary his counsellors and counsels, and sometimes to employ such persons in the management of his affairs who were rather fit for his present purpose than satisfactory to his judgment; but where it was choice in him, not compulsion, he was master of too much good sense
