"After the murther of king Charles I. Lovelace was set at liberty, and, having by that time consumed all his estate,<2.13> grew very melancholy (which brought him at length into a consumption), became very poor in body and purse, was the object of charity, went in ragged cloaths (whereas when he was in his glory he wore cloth of gold and silver), and mostly lodged in obscure and dirty places, more befitting the worst of beggars and poorest of servants, &c. After his death his brother Dudley, before mentioned, made a collection of his poetical papers, fitted them for the press, and entitled them LUCASTA: POSTHUME POEMS, Lond. 1659,<2.14> Oct., the second part, with his picture before them.<2.15> These are all the things that he hath extant; those that were never published were his tragedy, called THE SOLDIER or SOLDIERS, before mentioned; and his comedy, called THE SCHOLAR,<2.16> which he composed at sixteen years of age, when he came first to Gloucester hall, acted with applause afterwards in Salisbury Court. He died in a very mean lodging in Gunpowder Alley,<2.17> near Shoe Lane,<2.18> and was buried at the west-end of the church of S. Bride, alias Bridget, in London, near to the body of his kinsman Will. Lovelace, of Gray's Inn, Esq., in sixteen hundred fifty and eight,<2.19> having before been accounted by all those that well knew him to have been a person well versed in the Greek<2.20> and Latin<2.21> poets, in music, whether practical or theoretical, instrumental or vocal, and in other things befitting a gentleman. Some of the said persons have also added, in my hearing, that his common discourse was not only significant and witty, but incomparably graceful, which drew respect from all men and women. Many other things I could now say of him, relating either to his most generous mind in his prosperity, or dejected estate in his worst state of poverty, but for brevity's sake I shall now pass them by. At the end of his Posthume Poems are several elegies written on him by eminent poets of that time, wherein you may see his just character." Such is Wood's account; it is to be regretted that that writer did not supply the additional information, which he tantalizes us by saying that he possessed, and could have published, had he not been afraid of being tedious. His love of brevity is, in this case, most provoking.