Eugenio set out from the same university, and about the same time with Corusodes; he had the reputation of an arch lad at school, and was unfortunately possessed with a talent for poetry; on which account he received many chiding letters from his father, and grave advice from his tutor.  He did not neglect his college learning, but his chief study was the authors of antiquity, with a perfect knowledge in the Greek and Roman tongues.  He could never procure himself to be chosen fellow:  For it was objected against him, that he had written verses, and particularly some wherein he glanced at a certain reverend doctor famous for dulness:  That he been seen bowing to ladies, as he met them in the streets; and it was proved, that once he had been found dancing in a private family, with half a dozen of both sexes.

He was the younger son to a gentleman of good birth, but small estate; and his father dying, he was driven to London to seek his fortune:  He got into orders, and became reader in a parish church at twenty pounds a-year; was carried by an Oxford friend to Will’s coffee-house, frequented in those days by men of wit, where in some time he had the bad luck to be distinguished.  His scanty salary compelled him to run deep in debt for a new gown and cassock, and now and then forced him to write some paper of wit or humour, or preach a sermon for ten shillings, to supply his necessities.  He was a thousand times recommended by his poetical friends to great persons, as a young man of excellent parts who deserved encouragement, and received a thousand promises; but his modesty, and a generous spirit, which disdained the slavery of continual application and attendance, always disappointed him, making room for vigilant dunces, who were sure to be never out of sight.

He had an excellent faculty in preaching, if he were not sometimes a little too refined, and apt to trust too much to his own way of thinking and reasoning.

When, upon the vacancy of a preferment, he was hardly drawn to attend upon some promising lord, he received the usual answer, “That he came too late, for it had been given to another the very day before.”  And he had only this comfort left, that everybody said, “It was a thousand pities something could not be done for poor Mr. Eugenio.”

The remainder of his story will be dispatched in a few words:  Wearied with weak hopes, and weaker pursuits, he accepted a curacy in Derbyshire, of thirty pounds a-year, and when he was five-and-forty, had the great felicity to be preferred by a friend of his father’s to a vicarage worth annually sixty pounds, in the most desert parts of Lincolnshire; where, his spirit quite sunk with those reflections that solitude and disappointments bring, he married a farmer’s widow, and is still alive, utterly undistinguished and forgotten; only some of the neighbours have accidentally heard, that he had been a notable man in his youth.

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