itself. I have taken a pleasure in giving the reader a short but true character of this good man, my friend, from whom I received this following relation.—He sent to Mr. Donne, and entreated to borrow an hour of his time for a conference the next day. After their meeting, there was not many minutes passed before he spake to Mr. Donne to this purpose: "Mr. Donne, the occasion of sending for you is 66 to propose to you what I have often revolved in my own "thought since I last saw you: which nevertheless I will "not declare but upon this condition, that you shall not 66 return me a present answer, but forbear three days, and "bestow some part of that time in fasting and prayer; and "after a serious consideration of what I shall propose, then "return to me with your answer. Deny me not, Mr. "Donne; for it is the effect of a true love, which I would gladly pay as a debt due for yours to me." 66 This request being granted, the doctor expressed himself thus: 66 “Mr. Donne, I know your education and abilities; I "know your expectation of a state-employment; and I "know your fitness for it; and I know too the many delays and contingencies that attend court-promises: and let "me tell you, that my love, begot by our long friendship "and your merits, hath prompted me to such an inqui"sition after your present temporal estate, as makes me no "stranger to your necessities; which I know to be such as 66 66 your generous spirit could not bear, if it were not supported with a pious patience. You know I have for"merly persuaded you to wave your court-hopes, and enter "into holy orders; which I now again persuade you to em"brace, with this reason added to my former request: The "king hath yesterday made me dean of Gloucester, and I am also possessed of a benefice, the profits of which are 66 66 equal to those of my deanery. I will think my deanery "enough for my maintenance, (who am, and resolve to “die, a single man,) and will quit my benefice, and estate "you in it, (which the patron is willing I shall do,) if God "shall incline your heart to embrace this motion. Remem"ber, Mr. Donne, no man's education or parts make him "too good for this employment, which is to be an ambas"sador for the God of glory, that God, who by a vile death "opened the gates of life to mankind. Make me no pre"sent answer; but remember your promise, and return "to me the third day with your resolution." At the hearing of this, Mr. Donne's faint breath and perplexed countenance gave a visible testimony of an inward conflict: but he performed his promise, and departed without returning an answer till the third day, and then his answer was to this effect: 66 My most worthy and most dear friend, since I saw you "I have been faithful to my promise, and have also medi"tated much of your great kindness, which hath been such 66 66 66 as would exceed even my gratitude; but that it cannot "do; and more I cannot return you; and I do that with an heart full of humility and thanks, though I may not accept of of your offer: but, sir, my refusal is not for that I "think myself too good for that calling, for which kings, if they think so, are not good enough: nor for that my edu❝cation and learning, though not eminent, may not, being "assisted with God's grace and humility, render me in 66 some measure fit for it: but I dare make so dear a friend "as you are my confessor: some irregularities of my life "have been so visible to some men, that though I have, I "thank God, made my peace with him by penitential reso"lutions against them, and by the assistance of his grace “banished them my affections; yet this, which God knows "to be So, is not so visible to man, as to free me from their censures, and it may be that sacred calling from a dis"honour. And besides, whereas it is determined by the "best of casuists, that God's glory should be the first end, " and a maintenance the second motive to embrace that calling; and though each man may propose to himself both "together; yet the first may not be put last without a vio❝lation of conscience, which he that searches the heart will 66 66 66 judge. And truly my present condition is such, that if I "ask my own conscience, whether it be reconcileable to that “rule, it is at this time so perplexed about it, that I can "neither give myself nor you an answer. You know, sir, "who says, Happy is that man whose conscience doth not "accuse him for that thing which he does. To these I 66 might add other reasons that dissuade me: but I crave your favour that I may forbear to express them, and thankfully decline your offer." 66 66 This was his present resolution: but the heart of man is not in his own keeping; and he was destined to this sacred service by an higher hand; a hand so powerful, as at last forced him to a compliance: of which I shall give the reader an account before I shall give a rest to my pen. Mr. Donne and his wife continued with sir Francis Wolly till his death: a little before which time, sir Francis was so happy as to make a perfect reconciliation betwixt sir George and his forsaken son and daughter; sir George conditioning by bond to pay to Mr. Donne 8007. at a certain day, as a portion with his wife, or 207. quarterly for their maintenance, as the interest for it, till the said portion was paid. Most of those years that he lived with sir Francis, he studied the civil and canon laws; in which he acquired such a perfection, as was judged to hold proportion with many who had made that study the employment of their whole life. Sir Francis being dead, and that happy family dissolved, Mr. Donne took for himself a house in Micham, (near to Croydon in Surry,) a place noted for good air and choice company: there his wife and children remained; and for himself he took lodgings in London, near to White-hall, whither his friends and occasions drew him very often, and where he was as often visited by many of the nobility and others of this nation, who used him in their counsels of greatest consideration, and with some rewards for his better subsistence. Nor did our own nobility only value and favour him, but his acquaintance and friendship was sought for by most ambassadors of foreign nations, and by many other strangers, whose learning or business occasioned their stay in this nation. He was much importuned by many friends to make his constant residence in London; but he still denied it, having settled his dear wife and children at Micham, and near some friends that were bountiful to them and him; for they, God knows, needed it: and that you may the better now judge of the then present condition of his mind and fortune, I shall present you with an extract collected out of some few of his many letters. 66 -And the reason why I did not send an answer to your last week's letter was, because it then found me "under too great a sadness; and at present it is thus with me. There is not one person, but myself, well of my family: I have already lost half a child, and with that “mischance of hers, my wife is fallen into such a discom 66 66 66 posure, as would afflict her too extremely, but that the "sickness of all her other children stupifies her: of one of "which, in good faith, I have not much hope: and these “meet with a fortune so ill provided for physic, and such "relief, that if God should ease us with burials, I know "not how to perform even that: but I flatter myself with "this hope, that I am dying too; for I cannot waste faster "than by such griefs. As for, Aug. 10. "From my hospital at Micham, "JOHN DONNE." Thus he did bemoan himself: and thus in other letters. "For we hardly discover a sin, when it is but an "omission of some good, and no accusing act: with this, or "the former, I have often suspected myself to be over“taken; which is, with an over-earnest desire of the next "life. And though I know it is not merely a weariness of "this, because I had the same desire when I went with the "tide, and enjoyed fairer hopes than I now do; yet I It is now spring, every other tree "doubt worldly troubles have increased it. "and all the pleasures of it displease me; "blossoms, and I wither: I grow older, and not better; 66 my strength diminisheth, and my load grows heavier; " and yet I would fain be or do something; but that I can"not tell what, is no wonder in this time of my sadness; "for to choose is to do; but to be no part of any body is "as to be nothing; and so I am, and shall so judge myself, "unless I could be so incorporated into a part of the world, 66 as by business to contribute some sustentation to the "whole. This I made account; I began early, when I un"derstood the study of our laws; but was diverted by leaving that, and embracing the worst voluptuousness, an hy"droptique immoderate desire of human learning and languages: beautiful ornaments indeed to men of great for"tunes; but mine was grown so low as to need an occupa"tion; which I thought I entered well into, when I subjected myself to such a service as I thought might exer"cise my poor abilities: and there I stumbled, and fell too; " and now I am become so little, or such a nothing, that I am not a subject good enough for one of my own letters.— "Sir, I fear my present discontent does not proceed from a 66 66 66 66 66 good root, that I am so well content to be nothing, that "is, dead. But, sir, though my fortune hath made me "such, as that I am rather a sickness or a disease of the "world, than any part of it, and therefore neither love it, nor "life; yet I would gladly live to become some such thing ❝as you should not repent loving me. Sir, your own soul "cannot be more zealous for your good, than I am; and "God, who loves that zeal in me, will not suffer you to ❝doubt it. You would pity me now, if you saw me write, "for my pain hath drawn my head so much awry, and holds "it so, that my eye cannot follow my pen. I therefore re"ceive you into my prayers with mine own weary soul, and "commend myself to yours. I doubt not but next week "will bring you good news, for I have either mending or dying on my side: but if I do continue longer thus, I 66 |