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age, some such men to serve at his altar, as have been piously ambitious of doing good to mankind; a disposition, that is so like to God himself, that it owes itself only to Him, who takes a pleasure to behold it in his creatures. These times he did bless with many such; some of which still live to be patterns of apostolical charity, and of more than human patience. I have said this, because I have occasion to mention one of them in my following discourse; namely, Dr. Morton,† the most laborious and learned Bishop of Durham; one that God hath blessed with perfect intellectuals and a cheerful heart at the age of 94 yearsand is yet living :-one, that in his days of plenty had so large a heart, as to use his large revenue to the encouragement of learning and virtue, and is now-be it spoken with sorrow-reduced to a narrow estate, which he embraces without repining; and still shows the beauty of his mind by so liberal a hand, as if this were an age in which to-morrow were to care for itself. I have taken a pleasure in giving the reader a short, but true character of this

* 1648.

+ Thomas Morton is supposed by his friend and biographer Dr. John Barwick, to have been descended from the famous Cardinal Morton, Bishop of Ely. He was born at York, March 20th, 1564, and was educated there and at Halifax. where one of his schoolfellows was the notorious Guy Fawkes. In 1582, he' was entered of St. John's College, Cambridge, where he read Lectures on Logic; and on account of his skill in disputing with the Romish recusants, he was selected to be chaplain to the Earl of Huntingdon, then Lord President of the North. In 1602, holding a Rectory about four miles from York, he distinguished himself by his fearless and charitable exertions whilst the Plague was in that City; often visiting the Pest-House there, and carrying provisions to the poor unattended by a single domestic. In 1603, he went as Chaplain with the English Embassy to Denmark; in 1606, he became D.D. and Chaplain to James I.; he was made Dean of Gloucester by the King, June 22nd, 1607, and was removed to Winchester in 1609. Early in 1616, Dr. Morton was made Bishop of Chester; in which Diocese he used many efforts to conciliate the Nonconformists. In 1618, he was again translated to the See of Lichfield and Coventry, in which situation he detected the supposed witchcraft of the Boy of Bilson; and on July 2nd, 1632, he was advanced to the Bishopric of Durham. Dr. Morton suffered much during the Rebellion, and was expelled from his Palace, but he was at length taken into the protection of Sir Christopher Yelverton, to whose son he became Tutor; and at whose seat in Northamptonshire he died, Sept. 22nd, 1659, having been 44 years a Bishop, and being in the 95th year of his age.

good man, my friend, from whom I received this following relation. He sent to Mr. Donne, and intreated 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 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 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."

This request being granted, the Doctor expressed himself thus: "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 inquisition after your present temporal estate, as makes me no stranger to your necessities; which I know to be such as your generous spirit could not bear, if it were not supported with a pious patience. You know I have formerly persuaded you to wave your court-hopes, and enter into holy orders; which I now again persuade you to embrace, 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 equal to those of my deanery; I will think my deanery enough for my maintenance,-who am, and resolved 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. Remember, Mr. Donne, no man's education or parts make him too good for this employment, which is to be an ambassador for the God of glory; that God, who, by a vile death, opened the gates of life to mankind. Make me no present 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

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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 : 'My most worthy and most dear friend, since I saw you, I have been faithful to my promise, and have also meditated much of your great kindness, which hath been such 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 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 education and learning, though not eminent, may not, being assisted with God's grace and humility, render me in 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 resolutions 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 dishonour. 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 violation of conscience, which he that searches the heart will 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 might add other reasons that dissuade me; but I crave your favour that I may forbear to express them, and thankfully decline your offer."

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

* Romans xiv. 22. The modern translation is, " Happy is he that condemneth not himself in that which he doeth."

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 Mitcham,-near to Croydon in Surrey-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 councils 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 Mitcham, 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.

* The proposal of Dr. Morton to Mr. Donne, beginning at the words "lt hath been," down to "a rest to my pen," was not in the first edition.

† As these epistles are not to be found entire in the printed collection of his correspondence, published by Dr. Donne, Junior, under the title of "Letters to

"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 'tis 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 discomposure, 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, From my Hospital at Mitcham.

Aug. 10.

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 overtaken; 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 doubt worldly troubles have increased it: 'tis now Spring, and all the pleasures of it displease me; every other tree blossoms, and I wither: I grow older, and not better; my strength diminisheth, and my load grows heavier; and yet, I would fain be or do something; but that I cannot 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,

severall Persons of Honour," 1651, 1654, they were therefore most probably copied from the originals. Dr. Zouch quotes a passage from another of Dr. Donne's letters, wherein he says, "I write from the fireside in my parlour, and in the noise of three gamesome children, and by the side of her, whom because I have transplanted into such a wretched fortune, I must labour to disguise that from her by all such honest devices, as giving her my company and discourse."

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