published the Life of Mr. Richard Hooker (so he called it), with so many dangerous mistakes, both of him and his books, that discoursing of them with his Grace Gilbert, that now is Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, he enjoined me to examine some circumstances, and then rectify the Bishop's mistakes, by giving the world a fuller and truer account of Mr. Hooker and his books than that bishop had done; and I know I have done so. And let me tell the reader, that till his Grace had laid this injunction upon me, I could not admit a thought of any fitness in me to undertake it; but when he twice had enjoined me to it, I then declined my own, and trusted his judgment, and submitted to his commands; concluding, that if I did not, I could not forbear accusing myself of disobedience, and indeed of ingratitude, for his many favours. Thus I became engaged into the third life.

For the life of that great example of holiness, Mr. George Herbert, I profess it to be so far a free-will offering, that it was writ chiefly to please myself, but yet not without some respect to posterity: For though he was not a man that the next age can forget, yet many of his particular acts and virtues might have been neglected, or lost, if I had not collected and presented them to the imitation of those that shall succeed us: For I humbly conceive writing to be both a safer and truer preserver of men's virtuous actions than tradition; especially as it is managed in this age. And I am also to tell the reader, that though this life of Mr. Herbert was not by me writ in haste, yet I intended it a review before it should be made public; but that was not allowed me, by reason of my absence from London when it was printing: so that the reader may find in it some mistakes, some double expressions, and some not very proper, and some that might have been contracted, and some faults that are not justly chargeable upon me, but the printer; and yet I hope none so great, as may not, by this confession, purchase pardon from a good-natured reader.

And now I wish, that as that learned Jew, Josephus, and others, so these men had also writ their own lives; but since it is not the fashion of these times, I wish their relations or friends would do it for them, before delays make it too difficult. And I desire this the more, because it is an honour due to the dead, and a generous debt due to those that shall live and succeed us, and would to

them prove both a content and satisfaction. For when the next age shall (as this does) admire the learning and clear reason which that excellent casuist Dr. Sanderson (the late Bishop of Lincoln) hath demonstrated in his sermons and other writings; who, if they love virtue, would not rejoice to know, that this good man was as remarkable for the meekness and innocence of his life, as for his great and useful learning; and indeed as remarkable for his fortitude in his long and patient suffering (under them that then called themselves the godly party) for that doctrine which he had preached and printed in the happy days of the nation's and the church's peace ? And who would not be content to have the like account of Dr. Field,* that great schoolman, and others of noted learning? And though I cannot hope that my example or reason can persuade to this undertaking, yet I please myself, that I shall conclude my preface with wishing that it were

So.

I. W.

* Dr. Richard Field, Chaplain to James I. and Dean of Gloucester, died Nov. 21, 1616,-the friend of Mr. Richard Hooker, and one of the most learned men of his age. He was the author of a work entitled "Of the Church; fol. 1610."-James I. when he first heard him preach, said, "This is a Field for God to dwell in."-With the same allusion Fuller calls him that learned divine, "whose memory smelleth like a Field that the Lord hath blessed."-Anthony Wood mentions a manuscript, written by Nathaniel Field, Rector of Stourton, in Wiltshire, containing "some short Memorials concerning the Life of that Rev. Divine, Dr. Richard Field, Prebendary of Windsor," &c. The feature which peculiarly marked his disposition, was an aversion to those disputes on the Arminian points, which then began to disturb the peace of the church, and from which he dreaded the most unhappy consequences. It was his ambition to conciliate, not to irritate.

INTRODUCTION

TO

THE LIFE OF DOCTOR DONNE;

AS ORIGINALLY PREFIXED TO THE FIRST COLLECTION

OF HIS SERMONS IN 1640.

If 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 'twas 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 enquire 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.

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 now be demanded, as once Pompey's poor bondman was,* * "the grateful wretch had been left alone on the-sea shore, 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 I, that do thus officiously set the Author's memory on fire? I hope the question will

* Plutarch.

prove to have in it more of wonder than 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 his officious duty, confident I am, that he will not disdain this wellmeant 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 flames 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.