INTRODUCTION.

IF

*

F that great master of language and art, Sir Henry Wotton, the late Provost of Eton College, had lived to see the publication of these sermons, he had presented the world with the author's life exactly written; and it was pity he did not, for it was a work worthy his undertaking, and he fit to undertake it: betwixt whom and the author there was so mutual a knowledge, and such a friendship contracted in their youth, as nothing but death could force a separation. And though their bodies were divided, their affections were not; for that learned knight's love followed his friend's fame beyond death and the forgetful grave; 'which he testified by entreating me, whom he acquainted with his design, to inquire of some particulars that concerned it, not doubting but my knowledge of the author, and love to his memory, might make my diligence useful. I did most gladly undertake the employment, and continued it with great content, till I had made my collection ready to be augmented and completed by his matchless pen; but then death prevented his intentions.†

* The Life of Dr. Donne was originally prefixed to the volume of his Sermons, edited by his son, with a Dedication to king Charles, printed in folio, in 1640.

+ Sir Henry Wotton died, December, 1639. Among his collected Letters is one "to Iz. WA. in answer of a letter requesting him to perform his promise of writing the Life of Dr. Donne." It runs thus: "My worthy friend, I am not able to yield any reason, no, not so much as may satisfie myself, why a most ingenuous letter of your's hath lain so long by me (as it were in lavender) without an answer, save this only, The pleasure I have taken in your style and conceptions, together with a meditation of the subject you propound, may seem to have cast me into a gentle slumber. But being now awakened, I do herein return you most hearty

When I heard that sad news, and heard also that these sermons were to be printed, and want the author's life, which I thought to be very remarkable; indignation or grief—indeed I know not which-transported me so far, that I reviewed my forsaken collections, and resolved the world should see the best plain picture of the author's life that my artless pencil, guided by the hand of truth, could present to it.*

And if I shall be now demanded, as once Pompey's poor bondman was,-(the grateful wretch had been left alone on the seashore, with the forsaken dead body of his once glorious lord and master; and, was then gathering the scattered pieces of an old broken boat, to make a funeral pile to burn it, which was the custom of the Romans)—" Who art thou, that alone hast the honour to bury the body of Pompey the Great?"+ So, who am 1, that do thus officiously set the author's memory on fire? I hope the question will prove to have in it more of wonder than

thanks for the kind prosecution of your 1st motion, touching a just office due to the memory of our ever memorable friend: to whose good fame, though it be needless to add anything (and, my age considered, almost hopeless from my pen ;) yet I will endeavour to perform my promise, if it were but even for this cause, that in saying somewhat of the life of so deserving a man, I may perchance overlive mine own. . . . . .

I shall write to you at large by the next messenger, and then I shall set down certain general heads, wherein I desire information by your loving diligence; hoping shortly to enjoy your ever welcome company in this approaching time of the fly and the cork. And so I rest, your very hearty poor friend to serve you." -Reliq. Wotton., p. 360.

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* How well this labour of love was performed, has been the admiration of all succeeding time: and of contemporary writers,-" should I," says Fuller, endeavour to deliver his exact character, I (who willingly would not do any wrong) should do a fourfold injury,

1. To his worthy memory, whose merit my pen is unable to express.

2. To myself, in undertaking what I am not sufficient to perform,

3. To the reader, first in raising, then in frustrating his expectations.

4. To my deservedly honoured friend, Master Izaak Walton, by whom bis Life is so learnedly written."--Worthies of Engl., p. 221.

+ Philip, the freed man of Pompey, watched the dead body of his master, till the multitude had satisfied their curiosity; and then washing it with sea water, he wrapped it up in a garment of his own, and finding some rotten planks of a little fishing boat, he gathered them together for a funeral pile.-- See Plutarch's Lives.

disdain; but wonder indeed the reader may, that I, who profess myself artless, should presume with my faint light to show forth his life, whose very name makes it illustrious! But, be this to the disadvantage of the person represented, certain I am, it is to the advantage of the beholder; who shall here see the author's picture in a natural dress, which ought to beget faith in what is spoken: for he that wants skill to deceive, may safely be trusted.

And if the author's glorious spirit, which now is in heaven, can have the leisure to look down and see me, the poorest, the meanest of all his friends, in the midst of this officious duty, confident I am that he will not disdain this well-meant sacrifice to his memory; for whilst his conversation made me and many others happy below, I know his humility and gentleness were then eminent; and I have heard divines say, those virtues that were but sparks upon earth, become great and glorious flamès in

heaven.

Before I proceed further, I am to entreat the reader to take notice, that when Doctor Donne's Sermons were first printed, this was then my excuse for daring to write his life; and I dare not now appear without it.