in an imperial style, Lady Hatton declaimed against her tyrannical husband, so that the letter-writer adds, “divers said that Burbage could not have acted better.”  Burbage’s famous character was that of Richard the Third.  It is extraordinary that Coke, able to defend any cause, bore himself so simply.  It is supposed that he had laid his domestic concerns too open to animadversion in the neglect of his daughter; or that he was aware that he was standing before no friendly bar, at that moment being out of favour; whatever was the cause, our noble virago obtained a signal triumph, and “the oracle of law,” with all his gravity, stood before the council-table hen-pecked.  In June, 1616, Sir Edward appears to have yielded at discretion to his lady, for in an unpublished letter I find that “his curst heart hath been forced to yield to more than he ever meant; but upon this agreement he flatters himself that she will prove a very good wife.”

In the following year, 1617, these domestic affairs totally changed.  The political marriage of his daughter with Villiers being now resolved on, the business was to clip the wings of so fierce a bird as Coke had found in Lady Hatton, which led to an extraordinary contest.  The mother and daughter hated the upstart Villiers, and Sir John, indeed, promised to be but a sickly bridegroom.  They had contrived to make up a written contract of marriage with Lord Oxford, which they opposed against the proposal, or rather the order, of Coke.

The violence to which the towering spirits of the conflicting parties proceeded is a piece of secret history, of which accident has preserved an able memorial.  Coke armed with law, and, what was at least equally potent, with the king’s favour, entered by force the barricadoed houses of his lady, took possession of his daughter, on whom he appears never to have cast a thought till she became an instrument for his political purposes, confined her from her mother, and at length got the haughty mother herself imprisoned, and brought her to account for all her past misdoings.  Quick was the change of scene, and the contrast was as wonderful.  Coke, who, in the preceding year, to the world’s surprise, proved so simple an advocate in his own cause in the presence of his wife, now, to employ his own words, “got upon his wings again,” and went on as Lady Hatton, when safely lodged in prison, describes, with “his high-handed tyrannical courses,” till the furious lawyer occasioned a fit of sickness to the proud crest-fallen lady.  “Law!  Law!  Law!” thundered from the lips of “its oracle;” and Lord Bacon, in his apologetical letter to the king for having opposed his “riot or violence,” says, “I disliked it the more, because he justified it to be law, which was his old song.”

The memorial alluded to appears to have been confidentially composed by the legal friend of Lady Hatton, to furnish her ladyship with answers when brought before the council-table.  It opens several domestic scenes in the house of that great lord chief-justice; but the forcible simplicity of the style in domestic details will show, what I have often observed, that our language has not advanced in expression since the age of James the First.  I have transcribed it from the original, and its interest must plead for its length.