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merchant: he was born in the parish of St. Stephen's, Walbrook, 1666. He received a very liberal education, and at the age of nineteen was sent by his father to France, where he continued several years. In 1703 he was appointed Clarencieux king of arms, and in 1706 was commissioned by Queen Anne to carry the habit and ensigns of the order of the garter to King George the First, then at Hanover. He was also made comptroller-general of the board of works, and surveyor of the gardens and waters. In 1714 he received the order of knighthood, and in 1719 married Henrietta Maria, daughter of Colone Yarborough. Sir John died at his house in Scotlandyard, and is interred in the family vault under the church of St. Stephen, Walbrook. He left only one son, who fell at the battle of Fontenoy.
RELATED BY A BEAU. TO ESOP.
A BAND, a Bob-wig, and a Feather,
the Rev. George Vanbrugh, rector of Aughton, in Lancashire, the only surviving descendant of the family, informs me that his ancestors were eminent merchants of Antwerp, and fled out of Flanders when the Duke of Alva tried to establish the inquisition in those provinces. They first took refuge in Holland, and from thence came over to England to enjoy the protestant protection of Queen Elizabeth.
The Band in a most learned plea,
Of vigorous youth,
Old solemn truth,
How happy she would be.
The Bob, he talked of management,
It proved such sunshine weather
And off they went together.
BORN 1669.--DIED 1729,
FROM THE MOURNING BRIDE.
Almeria meeting her husband Alphonso, whom she had imagined
to be dead, now disguised as the captive Osmyn, at the tomb of his father Anselmo.
Enter ALMERIA and LEONORA. Alm. It was a fancied noise, for all is hushed. Leon. It bore the accent of a human voice.
Alm. It was thy fear, or else some transient wind Whistling through hollows of this vaulted aisle. We'll listen .. Leon. Hark! Alm. No, all is hushed, and still as death — 'tis
dreadful! How reverend is the face of this tall pile, Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads, To bear aloft its arched and ponderous roof, By its own weight made stedfast and immoveable, Looking tranquillity. It strikes an awe And terror on my aching sight; the tombs
And monumental caves of death look cold,
Leon. Let us return; the horror of this place,
Alm. It may my fears, but cannot add to that. No, I will on; shew me Anselmo's tomb, Lead me o'er bones and skulls, and mouldering
earth, Of human bodies; for I'll mix with them, Or wind me in the shroud of some pale corpse, Yet green in earth, rather than be the bride Of Garcia's more detested bed: that thought Exerts my spirits, and my present fears Are lost in dread of greater ill. Then shew me, Lead me, for I am bolder grown: lead on Where I may kneel, and pay my vows again, To him, to Heaven, and my Alphonso's soul. Leon. I go; but Heaven can tell with what regret.
[Exeunt. Enter HELI. Heli. I wander through this maze of monuments, Yet cannot find him-Hark! sure 'tis the voice Of one complaining-There it sounds !—I'll follow it.
[Exit. Scene II. - Opening, discovers a place of Tombs :
one Monument, fronting the view, greater than the rest.
Enter ALMERIA and LEONORA. Leon. Behold the sacred vault, within whose
womb The poor remains of good Anselmo rest, Yet fresh and unconsumed by time or worms. What do I see? Oh, Heaven! either my eyes Are false, or still the marble door remains Unclosed; the iron gates, that lead to death Beneath, are still wide stretched upon their hinge, And staring on us with unfolded leaves !
Alm. Sure 'tis the friendly yawn of death for me ; And that dumb mouth, significant in show, Invites me to the bed, where I alone Shall rest; shews me the grave, where nature,
weary And long oppressed with woes and bending cares, May lay the burthen down, and sink in slumbers Of peace eternal. Death, grim death, will fold Me in his leaden arms, and press me close To his cold clayey breast: My father, then, Will cease his tyranny; and Garcia, too, Will fly my pale deformity with loathing. My soul, enlarged from its vile bonds, will mount, And range the starry orbs, and milky-ways, Of that refulgent world, where I shall swim In liquid light, and Aoat, on scas of bliss, To my Alphonso's soul. Oh, joy too great!