despised the advice, and, persisting, he soon had reason to repent it.

As he was returning one evening from the Duke of York's apartments at
St. James's, three passes with a sword were made at him through his
chair, one of which went entirely through his arm. Upon this, he was
sensible of the danger to which his intemperate tongue had exposed him,
over and above the loss of his mistress. The assassins made their escape
across the Park, not doubting but they had dispatched him.

Killegrew thought that all complaints would be useless; for what redress
from justice could he expect for an attempt of which his wounds were his
only evidence? And, besides, he was convinced that if he began a
prosecution founded upon appearances and conjectures, the parties
concerned would take the shortest and most effectual means to put a stop
to all inquiries upon the subject, and that their second attempt would
not prove ineffectual. Being desirous, therefore, of deserving mercy
from those who had endeavoured to assassinate him, he no longer continued
his satires, and said not a word of the adventure. The Duke of
Buckingham and Lady Shrewsbury remained for a long period both happy and
contented. Never before had her constancy been of so long a duration;
nor had he ever been so submissive and respectful a lover.

This continued until Lord Shrewsbury, who never before had shown the
least uneasiness at his lady's misconduct, thought proper to resent this:
it was public enough, indeed, but less dishonourable to her than any of
her former intrigues. Poor Lord Shrewsbury, too polite a man to make any
reproaches to his wife, was resolved to have redress for his injured
honour: he accordingly challenged the Duke of Buckingham; and the Duke
of Buckingham, as a reparation for his honour, having killed him upon the
spot, remained a peaceable possessor of this famous Helen. The public