Or else, that awful fire which once did burn

In thy clear brain, now fallen into thy urn,
Lives there, to fright rude empirics from thence,
Which might profane thee by their ignorance.
Whoever writes of thee, and in a style
Unworthy such a theme, does but revile

Thy precious dust, and wakes a learned spirit,
Which may revenge his rapes upon thy merit:
For all a low-pitch'd fancy can devise
Will prove at best but hallow'd injuries.

Thou like the dying swan didst lately sing, Thy mournful dirge in audience of the king; When pale looks and faint accents of thy breath, Presented so to life that piece of death, That it was fear'd and prophesied by all Thou thither cam'st to preach thy funeral. Oh! hadst thou in an elegiac knell Rung out unto the world thine own farewell, And in thy high victorious numbers beat The solemn measures of thy grieved retreat, Thou might'st the poet's service now have miss'd As well as then thou didst prevent the priest; And never to the world beholden be, So much as for an epitaph for thee.

Of black ingratitude; if not, couldst thou
Part with this matchless man, and make no vow
For thee and thine successively to pay
Some sad remembrance to his dying day?

Did his youth scatter Poetry, wherein
Lay Love's Philosophy? was every sin
Pictured in his sharp Satires, made so foul,

That some have fear'd sin's shapes, and kept their soul
Safer by reading verse; did he give days,
Past marble monuments, to those whose praise

He would perpetuate? did he-I fear
Envy will doubt-these at his twentieth year?

But, more matur'd, did his rich soul conceive,
And in harmonious holy numbers weave
A Crown of Sacred Sonnets,* fit t' adorn
A dying martyr's brow, or to be worn
On that blest head of Mary Magdalen,
After she wiped Christ's feet, but not till then;
Did he fit for such penitents as she
And he to use-leave us a Litany,
Which all devout men love, and doubtless shall,
As times grow better, grow more classical?
Did he write Hymns, for piety and wit,
Equal to those great grave Prudentius writ?
Spake he all languages? knew he all laws?
The grounds and use of physic; but, because
"Twas mercenary, waved it? went to see
That happy place of Christ's nativity?

Did he return and preach him? preach him so,

As since St. Paul none ever did? they know

Those happy souls that heard him--know this truth.
Did he confirm thy aged? convert thy youth?
Did he these wonders? and is his dear loss
Mourn'd by so few? few for so great a cross.

Dwell on these joys, my thoughts! Oh! do not call Grief back, by thinking on his funeral. Forget he loved me: waste not my swift years, Which haste to David's seventy, fill'd with fears And sorrows for his death; forget his parts, They find a living grave in good men's hearts: And, for my first is daily paid for sin, Forget to pay my second sigh for him: Forget his powerful preaching, and forget I am his convert. Oh my frailty! let My flesh be no more heard; it will obtrude This lethargy: so should my gratitude, My vows of gratitude should so be broke, Which can no more be, than his virtues, spoke By any but himself: for which cause, I Write no encomiums, but this elegy; Which, as a free-will offering, I here give Fame and the world; and parting with it, grieve

I want abilities fit to set forth

A monument, as matchless as his worth.

April 7, 1631.

*La Corona.

IZ. WA.

SIR HENRY WOTTON-whose life I now intend to write-was born in the year of our redemption 1568, in Bocton-hall,-commonly called Bocton, or Boughton-place, or palace,-in the parish of Bocton Malherbe, in the fruitful country of Kent. Bocton-hall being an ancient and goodly structure, beautifying and being beautified by the parish church of Bocton Malherbe adjoining unto it, and both seated within a fair park of the Wottons, on the brow of such a hill, as gives the advantage of a large prospect, and of equal pleasure to all beholders.

But this house and church are not remarkable for any thing so much, as for that the memorable family of the Wottons have so long inhabited the one, and now lie buried in the other, as appears by their many monuments in that church: the Wottons being a family that hath brought forth divers persons eminent for wisdom and valour; whose heroic acts, and noble employments, both in England and in foreign parts, have adorned themselves and this nation; which they have served abroad faithfully, in the discharge of their great trust, and prudently in their negociations with several princes; and also served at home with much honour and justice, in their wise managing a great part of the public affairs thereof, in the various times both of war and peace.

But lest I should be thought by any, that may incline either to deny or doubt this truth, not to have observed moderation in the commendation of this family; and also for that I believe the merits and memory of such persons ought to be thankfully recorded, I shall offer to the consideration of every reader, out of the testimony of their pedigree and our chronicles, a part-and but a part of that just commendation which might be from thence enlarged, and shall then leave the indifferent reader to judge whether my error be an excess or defect of commendations.

Sir Robert Wotton, of Bocton Malherbe, knight, was born about the year of Christ 1460: he, living in the reign of King Edward the Fourth, was by him trusted to be Lieutenant of Guisnes, to be Knight Porter, and Comptroller of Calais, where he died, and lies honourably buried.

Sir Edward Wotton of Bocton Malherbe, knight, -son and heir of the said Sir Robert-was born in the year of Christ 1489, in the reign of King Henry the Seventh; he was made treasurer of Calais, and of the Privy Council to King Henry the Eighth, who offered him to be Lord Chancellor of England: but, saith Holinshed", out of a virtuous modesty, he refused it.

Thomas Wotton of Bocton Malherbe, Esquire, son and heir of the said Sir Edward, and the father of our Sir Henry, that occasions this relation, was born in the year of Christ 1521. He was a gentleman excellently educated, and studious in all the liberal arts; in the knowledge whereof he attained unto a great perfection; who, though he had-besides those abilities, a very noble and plentiful estate, and the ancient interest of his predecessors-many invitations from Queen Elizabeth to change his country recreations and retirement for a court, offering him a knighthood,she was then with him at his Bocton-hall,-and that to be but as an earnest of some more honourable and more profitable employment under her; yet he humbly refused both, being a man of great modesty, of a most plain and single heart, of an ancient freedom, and integrity of mind. A com. mendation which Sir Henry Wotton took occasion often to remember with great gladness, and thankfully to boast himself the son of such a father; from whom indeed he derived that noble ingenuity that was always practised by himself, and which he ever both commended and cherished in others. This Thomas was also remarkable for hospitality, a great lover and much beloved of his country; to which may justly be added, that he was a cherisher of learning, as appears by that excellent antiquary, Mr. William Lambarde†, in his “Perambulation of Kent."

In his Chronicle.

+ This celebrated lawyer and antiquary was born 18th Oct. 1536. He was bred to the law, and in 1597 was made Keeper of the Rolls, and in 1600 Keeper of the Records in the Tower. His principal works were a collection and Latin translation of the Saxon laws; a Discourse on the English Courts of Justice; another on the office of justices; and the Perambulation of Kent. He died on the 19th of August, 1601.

This Thomas had four sons, Sir Edward, Sir James, Sir John, and Sir Henry.

Sir Edward was knighted by Queen Elizabeth, and made Comptroller of Her Majesty's Household. "He was," saith Camden, "a man remarkable for many and great employments in the state, during her reign, and sent several times ambassador into foreign nations. After her death, he was by King James made Comptroller of his Household, and called to be of his Privy Council, and by him advanced to be Lord Wotton, Baron of Merley in Kent, and made Lord Lieutenant of that county."

Sir James, the second son, may be numbered among the martial men of his age, who was, in the thirty-eighth of Queen Elizabeth's reign-with Robert, Earl of Sussex, Count Lodowick of Nassau, Don Christophoro, son of Antonio, king of Portugal, and divers other gentlemen of nobleness and valour-knighted in the field near Cadiz in Spain, after they had gotten great honour and riches, besides a notable retaliation of injuries, by taking that town.

Sir John, being a gentleman excellently accomplished, both by learning and travel, was knighted by Queen Elizabeth, and by her looked upon with more than ordinary favour, and with intentions of preferment; but death in his younger years put a period to his growing hopes.

Of Sir Henry my following discourse shall give

an account :

"The descent of these fore-named Wottons was all in a direct line, and most of them and their actions in the memory of those with whom we have conversed; but if I had looked so far back as to Sir Nicholas Wotton, who lived in the reign of King Richard the Second, or before him upon divers others of great note in their several ages, I might by some be thought tedious; and yet others may more justly think me negligent, if I omit to mention Nicholas Wotton, the fourth son of Sir Robert, whom I first named.

This Nicholas Wotton was doctor of law, and sometime dean both of York and Canterbury; a man whom God did not only bless with a long life, but with great abilities of mind, and an inclination to employ them in the service of his country, as is testified by his several employments", having been sent nine times ambassador unto foreign princes; and by his being a Privy Councillor to King Henry the Eighth, to Edward the Sixth, to Queen Mary, and Queen Elizabeth; who also, after he had been, during the wars between England, Scotland, and France, three several times-and not unsuccessfully-employed in committees for settling of peace betwixt this and those kingdoms, died, saith learned Camden, "full of commendations for wisdom and piety." He was also, by the will of King Henry the Eighth, made one of his executors, and chief secretary of state to his son, that pious prince, Edward the Sixth. Concerning which Nicholas Wotton, I shall say but this little more; that he refused-being offered it by Queen Elizabeth-to be Archbishop of Canterbury, and that he died not rich, though he lived in that time of the dissolution of abbeys.

More might be added; but by this it may appear, that Sir Henry Wetton was a branch of such a kindred, as left a stock of reputation to their

posterity: such reputation as might kindle a generous emulation in strangers, and preserve a noble ambition in those of his name and family, to perform actions worthy of their ancestors.

And that Sir Henry Wotton did so, might appear more perfectly than my pen can express it, if of his many surviving friends, some one of higher parts and employments, had been pleased to have commended his to posterity; but since some years are now past, and they have all-I know not why -forborne to do it, my gratitude to the memory of my dead friend, and the renewed request of some that still live solicitous to see this duty performed; these have had a power to persuade me to undertake it; which truly I have not done but with distrust of mine own abilities; and yet so far from despair, that I am modestly confident my humble language shall be accepted, because I shall present all readers with a commixture of truth, and Sir Henry Wotton's merits.

This being premised, I proceed to tell the reader, that the father of Sir Henry Wotton was twice married; first to Elizabeth, the daughter of Sir John Rudstone, knight, after whose death, though his inclination was averse to all contentions, yet necessitated he was to several suits in law; in the prosecution whereof, which took up much of his time, and were the occasion of many discontents, he was, by divers of his friends, earnestly persuaded to a re-marriage; to whom he as often answered, that if ever he did put on a resolution to marry, he was seriously resolved to avoid three sorts of persons; namely,

Those that had children;
Those that had law-suits;

And those that were of his kindred.

And yet, following his own law-suits, he met, in Westminster Hall, with Mrs. Eleonora Morton, widow to Robert Morton, of Kent, Esquire, who was also engaged in several suits in law and he, observing her comportment at the time of hearing one of her causes before the judges, could not but at the same time both compassionate her condition and affect her person; for the tears of lovers, or beauty dressed in sadness, are observed to have in them a charming eloquence, and to become very often too strong to be resisted; which I mention, because it proved so with this Thomas Wotton; for although there were in her a concurrence of all those accidents against which he had so seriously resolved, yet his affection to her grew then so strong that he resolved to solicit her for a wife, and did, and obtained her.

By her, who was the daughter of Sir William Finch, of Eastwell, in Kent, he had only Henry, his youngest son. His mother undertook to be tutoress unto him during much of his childhood, for whose care and pains he paid her each day with such visible signs of future perfection in learning, as turned her employment into a pleasing trouble; which she was content to continue, till his father took him into his own particular care, and disposed of him to a tutor in his own house at Bocton.

And when time and diligent instruction had made him fit for a removal to a higher form,

Sir Edward Bysshe, Clarenceux King of Arms, Mr. Charles Cotton, and Mr. Nic. Oudert, sometime Sir Henry Wotton's servant.

which was very early, he was sent to Winchester school; a place of strict discipline and order, that so he might in his youth be moulded into a method of living by rule, which his wise father knew to be the most necessary way to make the future part of his life both happy to himself, and useful for the discharge of all business, whether public or private.

And that he might be confirmed in this regularity, he was, at a fit age, removed from that school, to be a commoner of New College, in Oxford; both being founded by William Wickham, Bishop of Winchester.

There he continued till about the eighteenth year of his age, and was then transplanted into Queen's College; where, within that year, he was, by the chief of that college, persuasively enjoined to write a play for their private use. It was the Tragedy of Tancredo, which was so interwoven with sentences, and for the method and exact personating those humours, passions, and dispositions, which he proposed to represent, so performed, that the gravest of that society declared, he had, in a slight employment, given an early and a solid testimony of his future abilities. And though there may be some sour dispositions which may think this not worth a memorial, yet that wise knight, Baptista Guarini*, whom learned Italy accounts one of her ornaments, thought it neither an uncomely nor an unprofitable employment for his age.

But I pass to what will be thought more serious. About the twentieth year of his age he proeeeded master of arts, and at that time read in Latin three lectures De Oculo; wherein he having described the form, the motion, the curious composure of the eye, and demonstrated how of those very many, every humour and nerve performs its distinct office, so as the God of order hath appointed, without mixture or confusion; and all this to the advantage of man, to whom the eye is given, not only as the body's guide, but whereas all other of his senses require time to inform the soul, this in an instant apprehends and warns him of danger, teaching him in the very eyes of others to discover wit, folly, love, and hatred. After he had made these observations, he fell to dispute this optic question:-Whether we see by the emission of the beams from within, or reception of the species from without? And after that and many other like learned disquisitions, he, in the conclusion of his lectures, took a fair occasion to beautify his discourse with a commendation of the blessing and benefit of seeing; by which we do not only discover Nature's secrets, but, with a continued content (for the eye is never weary of seeing), behold the great light of the world, and by it discover the fabric of the heavens, and both the order and motion of the celestial orbs; nay, that if the eye look but downward, it may rejoice to behold the bosom of the earth, our common mother, embroidered and adorned with numberless and various flowers, which man sees daily grow up to perfection, and then silently moralise his own condition, who, in a short time, like those very flowers, decays, withers, and quickly returns again to that earth from which both had their first being.

The celebrated author of Il Pastor Fido. He was born at Ferrara in 1537, and died at Venice the 7th Oct. 1612.

These were so exactly debated, and so rhetorically heightened, as, among other admirers, caused that learned Italian, Albericus Gentilis †, then professor of the civil law in Oxford, to call him Henrice mi ocelle; which dear expression of his was also used by divers of Sir Henry's dearest friends, and by many other persons of note during his stay in the university.

But his stay there was not long, at least not so long as his friends once intended; for the year after Sir Henry proceeded master of arts, his father, whom Sir Henry did never mention without this or some like reverential expression, as, "That good man, my father," or, "My father, the best of men;" about that time, this good man changed this for a better life, leaving to Sir Henry, as to his other younger sons, a rent-charge of a hundred marks a year, to be paid for ever out of sume one of his manors of a much greater value.

And here, though this good man be dead, yet I wish a circumstance or two that concerns him may not be buried without a relation, which I shall undertake to do, for that I suppose they may so much concern the reader to know, that I may promise myself a pardon for a short digression.

In the year of our redemption 1553, Nicholas Wotton, dean of Canterbury, whom I formerly mentioned, being then ambassador in France, dreamed that his nephew, this Thomas Wotton, was inclined to be a party in such a project as, if he were not suddenly prevented, would turn both to the loss of his life, and ruin of his family.

But,

Doubtless the good dean did well know that common dreams are but a senseless paraphrase on our waking thoughts, or of the business of the day past, or are the result of our over-engaged affections, when we betake ourselves to rest, and knew that the observation of them may turn to silly superstitions, as they too often do. though he might know all this, and might also believe that prophecies are ceased, yet doubtless he could not but consider that all dreams are not to be neglected or cast away without all consideration, and did therefore rather lay this dream aside than intend totally to lose it; and dreaming the same again the night following, when it became a double dream, like that of Pharaoh, of which double dreams the learned have made many observations, and considering that it had no dependence on his waking thoughts, much less on the desires of his heart, then he did more seriously consider it; and remembered that Almighty God was pleased in a dream to reveal and to assure Monica, the mother of St. Austin, that he, her son, for whom she wept so bitterly, and prayed so much, should at last become a Christian. This, I believe, the good dean considered; and considering also that Almighty God, though the causes of dreams be often unknown, hath even in these latter times also, by a certain illumination of the soul in sleep, discovered many things that human

This noted civilian having left Italy along with his father, Matthew Gentilis, who had embraced the reformed religion, came into England, and died at London in 1608, aged 58 years. He published three books; "De Jure Belli," which proved very useful to Grotius in his great work; "De Jure Belli et Pacis ;" and also a tractate, "De Latinitate Veteris Bibliorum Versionis," with other works.

St. Austin's Confession.

wisdom could not foresee; upon these considerations he resolved to use so prudent a remedy, by way of prevention, as might introduce no great inconvenience either to himself or to his nephew. And to that end he wrote to the queen (it was Queen Mary), and besought her that she would cause his nephew, Thomas Wotton, to be sent for out of Kent; and that the lords of her council might interrogate him in some such feigned questions as might give a colour for his commitment into a favourable prison; declaring that he would acquaint her majesty with the true reason of his request, when he should next become so happy as to see and speak to her majesty*.

It was done as the dean desired, and in prison I must leave Mr. Wotton, till I have told the reader what followed.

At this time a marriage was concluded betwixt our Queen Mary and Philip, king of Spain; and though this was concluded with the advice, if not by the persuasion, of her privy council, as having many probabilities of advantage to this nation, yet divers persons of a contrary persuasion did not only declare against it, but also raised forces to oppose it; believing, as they said, it would be a means to bring England to be under a subjection to Spain, and make those of this nation slaves to strangers.

And of this number, Sir Thomas Wyat, of Boxley Abbey, in Kent, betwixt whose family and the family of the Wottons there had been an ancient and entire friendship, was the principal actor; who, having persuaded many of the nobility and gentry, especially of Kent, to side with him, and he being defeated and taken prisoner, was legally arraigned and condemned, and lost his life; so did the Duke of Suffolk and divers others, especially many of the gentry of Kent, who were there in several places executed as Wyat's assistants.

And of this number, in all probability, had Mr. Wotton been, if he had not been confined; for though he could not be ignorant that another man's treason makes it mine by concealing it, yet he durst confess to his uncle, when he returned into England, and then came to visit him in prison, that he had more than an intimation of Wyat's intentions, and thought he had not continued actually innocent, if his uncle had not so happily dreamed him into a prison; out of which place when he was delivered by the same hand that caused his commitment, they both considered the dream more seriously, and then both joined in praising God for it; that God, who ties himself to no rules, either in preventing of evil, or in showing of mercy to those whom of good pleasure he hath chosen to love.

And this dream was the more considerable, because that God, who in the days of old did use to speak to his people in visions, did seem to speak to many of this family in dreams; of which I will also give the reader one short particular of this Thomas Wotton, whose dreams did usually prove true, both in foretelling things to come, and dis

The author of the "Account of the Deans of Canterbury," has ingeniously conjectured that this dream of the good dean was a mere political contrivance, the result of deep deliberation, to preserve the life of his nephew, whose intimacy with Sir Thomas Wyatt would probably have induced him to join in the conspiracy.

covering things past, and the particular is this.This Thomas, a little before his death, dreamed that the university treasury was robbed by townsmen and poor scholars, and that the number was five; and being that day to write to his son Henry at Oxford, he thought it worth so much pains as, by a postscript in his letter, to make a slight inquiry of it. The letter, which was writ out of Kent, and dated three days before, came to his son's hands the very morning after the night in which the robbery was committed; and when the city and university were both in a perplexed inquest of the thieves, then did Sir Henry Wotton show his father's letter, and by it such light was given of this work of darkness, that the five guilty persons were presently discovered and apprehended, without putting the university to so much trouble as the casting of a figure.

And it may yet be more considerable, that this Nicholas and Thomas Wotton should both, being men of holy lives, of even tempers, and much given to fasting and prayer, foresee and foretell the very days of their own death. Nicholas did so, being then seventy years of age, and in perfect health. Thomas did the like in the sixty-fifth year of his age; who, being then in London, where he died, and foreseeing his death there, gave direction in what manner his body should be carried to Bocton; and though he thought his uncle Nicholas worthy of that noble monument which he built for him in the cathedral church of Canterbury, yet this humble man gave direction concerning himself, to be buried privately, and especially without any pomp at his funeral. This is some account of this family, which seemed to be beloved of God.

But it may now seem more than time that I return to Sir Henry Wotton at Oxford, where, after his optic lecture, he was taken into such a bosom friendship with the learned Albericus Gentilis, whom I formerly named, that, if it had been possible, Gentilis would have breathed all his excellent knowledge, both of the mathematics and law, into the breast of his dear Harry, for so Gentilis used to call him; and though he was not able to do that, yet there was in Sir Henry such a propensity and connaturalness to the Italian language, and those studies whereof Gentilis was a great master, that the friendship between them did daily increase, and proved daily advantageous to Sir Henry, for the improvement of him in several sciences during his stay in the university.

From which place, before I shall invite the reader to follow him into a foreign nation, though I must omit to mention divers persons that were then in Oxford, of memorable note for learning, and friends to Sir Henry Wotton, yet I must not omit the mention of a love that was there begun betwixt him and Dr. Donne, sometime dean of St. Paul's; a man of whose abilities I shall forbear to say anything, because he who is of this nation, and pretends to learning or ingenuity, and is ignorant of Dr. Donne, deserves not to know him. The friendship of these two I must not omit to mention, being such a friendship as was generously elemented; and as it was begun in their youth, and in a university, and there maintained by correspondent inclinations and studies, so it lasted till age and death forced a separation.