‘On the Saturday following,’ writes Corinna, ’the Company came.  The Corps was put into a Velvet Hearse, and eighteen Mourning Coaches filled with Company attending.  When, just before they began to move, Lord Jeffreys, with some of his rakish Companions, coming by, in Wine, ask’d whose Funeral?  And being told; “What!” cries he, “shall Dryden, the greatest Honour and Ornament of the Nation, be buried after this private Manner?  No, Gentlemen! let all that lov’d Mr. Dryden, and honour his Memory, alight, and join with me in gaining my Lady’s Consent, to let me have the Honour of his Interment, which shall be after another manner than this, and I will bestow L1000 on a Monument in the Abbey for him.”  The Gentlemen in the Coaches, not knowing of the Bishop of Rochester’s Favour, nor of Lord Halifax’s generous Design (these two noble Spirits having, out of Respect to the Family, enjoin’d Lady Elsabeth and her Son to keep their Favour concealed to the World, and let it pass for her own Expense), readily came out of the Coaches, and attended Lord Jeffreys up to the Lady’s Bedside, who was then sick.  He repeated the purport of what he had before said, but she absolutely refusing, he fell on his knees, vowing never to rise till his request was granted.  The rest of the Company, by his Desire, kneeled also; she being naturally of a timorous Disposition, and then under a sudden surprise, fainted away.  As soon as she recover’d her Speech, she cry’d, “No, no!” “Enough gentlemen,” reply’d he (rising briskly), “My Lady is very good, she says, Go, go!” She repeated her former Words with all her Strength, but alas in vain! her feeble voice was lost in their Acclamations of Joy! and Lord Jeffreys order’d the Hearseman to carry the Corps to Russell’s, an undertaker in Cheapside, and leave it there, till he sent orders for the Embalment, which, he added, should be after the Royal Manner.  His Directions were obey’d, the Company dispersed, and Lady Elsabeth and Mr. Charles remained Inconsolable.  Next Morning Mr. Charles waited on Lord Halifax, &c., to excuse his Mother and self, by relating the real Truth.  But neither his Lordship nor the Bishop would admit of any Plea; especially the latter, who had the Abbey lighted, the ground open’d, the Choir attending, an Anthem ready set, and himself waiting for some Hours, without any Corps to bury.  Russell, after three days’ Expectance of Orders for Embalment, without receiving any, waits on Lord Jeffreys, who, pretending Ignorance of the Matter, turn’d it off with an ill-natured Jest, saying, “Those who observed the orders of a drunken Frolick, deserved no better; that he remembered nothing at all of it, and he might do what he pleased with the Corps.”  On this Mr. Russell waits on Lady Elsabeth and Mr. Dryden; but alas, it was not in their power to answer.  The season was very hot, the Deceas’d had liv’d high and fast; and being corpulent, and abounding with gross Humours, grew very offensive.  The Undertaker, in short, threaten’d to bring home