city merchants and traders, for his contempt for newly-acquired wealth, and his merciless exposition of their assumption, in his dramas. Footnote 190: Introduction to Massinger’s Works, p. xxxvii. Massinger, therefore, lived and died in poverty. The language of complaint became habitual to him; he spoke of his despised state with agony--yet his patrons were many and honourable; but he addressed each successively in dedications which were masterpieces of pure English, as his last hope--his dependence on whom “ate into his very soul.” To Sir Robert Wiseman, of Thorrell’s Hall, in Essex, he “freely, and with a zealous thankfulness, acknowledges that for many years he had but _faintly subsisted_, had he not often tasted of his great bounty.”[191] In his dedication of “The Picture” to the noble Society of the Inner Temple, he thanks them, “his honoured and selected friends,” for their “frequent bounties.” He lived upon presents; and of the comforts of a certain income he had not, probably, even one year’s experience. It is impossible to think of such a career without pain--starving one day, repulsed with condescension from the halls of the rich, another. He has depicted feelingly, indeed, the gentleman reduced to penury, in the “New Way to Pay Old Debts,” and the insults heaped on him by over-fed sycophants. Footnote 191: Massinger’s Works, p. 167; in his Dedication of “The Great Duke of Florence” to Sir Robert Wiseman. “_Overreach_ (to _Wellborn_)-- Avaunt, thou beggar! If ever thou presume to own me more, I’ll have thee caged and whipp’d. “_Amble_ (to _Wellborn_)-- Cannot you stay, to be serv’d among your fellows From the basket, but you must press into the hall?” The “basket” contained broken meat, which was placed in the porter’s lodge of great houses, to be distributed to the poor. So, in the “Fatal Dowry,” _Pontalier_ says to _Liladum_:-- “Go to the basket, and repent.” It is with true feeling that Massinger put into the mouth of _Wellborn_ these pleading lines:-- “Scorn me not, good lady! But, as in form you are angelical, Imitate the heavenly natures, and vouchsafe At the least awhile to hear me. You will grant The blood that runs in this arm is as noble As that which fills your veins; those costly jewels And those rich clothes you wear, your men’s observance And women’s flattery, are in you no virtues; Nor these rags, with my poverty, in me vices.”