Habington," the absolute unity "in blood as study" between them, and that their sole contention was "who should be best patterne of a friend." Castara herself, it would seem, did not replace this older companionship; since in the very midst of his courtship Habington found time to reproach Talbot for an absence of three days. But the bond was destined—("Love's the ambassador of loss")—to be the means of a mighty sorrow when the hand of Death fell precipitately upon the vigorous manhood of his friend. For ten days Habington was speechless with grief. Then he sought relief in the touching "Elegies" which add a new solemnity to the 1635 edition of Castara. They are eight in number, perhaps the most powerful being the second:
Talbot is dead. Like lightning which no part
O' th' body touches, but first strikes the heart,
This word hath murder'd me. . . .
No man can look straight into the eyes of Death without having his aspect of Life metamorphosed. After that year, 1634, William Habington was no longer the weaver of delicious day dreams, the tireless singer of Castara's praises. He was her faithful and devoted husband; but that was not all. In the studious repose of Hindlip Hill we find the quondam poet giving himself more and more to historical research. He produced—in collaboration with his father—a History of Edward IV, King of England, which was published in 1640 "at the desire of K. Charles I." That same year saw the appearance of his Queene of Arragon, a tragi-comedy of considerable merit, which the Earl of Pembroke "caused to be acted at Court and afterwards to be published against the author's will." One little dialogue in this
