y of printing his own
poem.

The second part of 'Hudibras' appeared in 1664, and the third and last
in 1678.

The Duke of Buckingham was, we are told by Aubrey, well disposed towards
Butler, and Wycherley was a constant suitor in his behalf; but the
fickle favorite forgot his promises as easily as did the King. Lord
Clarendon, who had the witty poet's portrait painted for his library,
was no better at promise-keeping. It is natural that such neglect should
have provoked the sharp but just satires which Butler wrote against the
manners of Charles's dissolute court.

'Hudibras' was never finished; for Butler, who had been confined by his
infirmities to his room in Rose Court, Covent Garden, since 1676, died
on September 25th, 1680. William Longueville, a devoted friend but for
whose kindness the poet might have starved, buried the remains at his
own expense in the churchyard of St. Paul's, Covent Garden. In 1721 John
Barber, Lord Mayor of London, set up in the Poet's Corner of Westminster
Abbey an inscription to Butler's memory, which caused later satirists to
suggest that this was giving a stone to him who had asked for bread.

Butler was a plain man of middle stature, strong-set, high-colored, with
a head of sorrel hair. He possessed a severe and sound judgment, but was
"a good fellow," according to his friend Aubrey.

Many of Butler's writings were not published in his lifetime, during
which only the three parts of 'Hudibras' and some trifles appeared.
Longueville, who received his papers, left them, unpublished, to his son
Charles; from whom they came to John Clarke of Cheshire, by whose
permission the 'Genuine Remains' in two volumes were published in 1759.
The title of this book is due to the fact that poor Butler, as is usual
with his kind, became very popular immediately after his death, and the
ghouls of literature supplied the book-shops with forgeries. Butler's
manuscripts, many of which have never been published, were placed in the
British Museum in 1885.

HUDIBRAS DESCRIBED

When civil fury first grew high,
And men fell out, they knew not why;
When hard words, jealousies, and fears
Set folks together by the ears,
And made them fight, like mad or drunk,
For dame Religion as for Punk,
Whose honesty they all durst swear for,
Tho' not a man of them knew wherefore;
When Gospel-Trumpeter, surrounded
With long-ear'd rout, to battle sounded,
And pulpit, drum