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of his dissolution drew near; for which his vigorous soul appeared to thirst.

In this time of his sickness and not many days before his death, his house was robbed; of which he having notice, his question was, “ Are my books and written papers safe ?" And being answered that they were ; his reply was, “ Then it matters not ; for no other loss can trouble me."

About one day before his death, Dr. Saravia, who knew the very secrets of his soul,—for they were supposed to be confessors to each other,came to him, and, after a conference of the benefit, the necessity, and safety of the Church's absolution, it was resolved the Doctor should give him both that and the Sacra. ment the following day. To which end the Doctor came, and, after a short retirement and privacy, they two returned to the company : and then the Doctor gave him, and some of those friends which were with him, the blessed Sacrament of the body and blood of our Jesus. Which being performed, the Doctor thought he saw a reverend gaiety and joy in his face; but it lasted not long; for his bodily infirmities did return suddenly, and became more visible, insomuch that the Doctor apprehended death ready to seize him ; yet, after some amendment, left him at night, with a promise to return early the day following ; which he did, and then found him better in appearance, deep in contemplation, and not inclinable to discourse; which gave the Doctor occasion to require his present thoughts. To which he replied, “ That he was meditating the number and nature of Angels, and their blessed obedience and order, without which, peace could not be in Heaven : and Oh! that it might be so on Earth!” After which words, he said, “I have lived to see this world is made up of perturbations; and I have been long preparing to leave it, and gathering comfort for the dreadful hour of making my account with God, which I now apprehend to be near : and though I have by his grace loved him in my youth, and feared him in mine age, and laboured to have a conscience void of offence to him, and to all men ; yet if thou, O Lord ! be extreme to mark what I have done amiss, who can abide it? And therefore, where I have failed, Lord, show mercy to me; for I plead not my righteousness, but the forgiveness of my unrighteousness, for His merits,

who died to purchase pardon for penitent sinners. And since I owe thee a death, Lord, let it not be terrible, and then take thine own time : I submit to it: let not mine, O Lord ! but let thy will be done.” With which expression he fell into a dangerous slumber ; dangerous as to his recovery, yet recover he did, but it was to speak only these few words: “Good Doctor, God hath heard my daily petitions, for I am at peace with all men, and he is at peace with me; and from that blessed assurance, I feel that inward joy, which this world can neither give nor take from me: my conscience beareth me this witness, and this witness makes the thoughts of death joyful. I could wish to live to do the Church more service ; but cannot hope it, for my days are past as a shadow that returns not.” More he would have spoken, but his spirits failed him; and, after a short conflict betwixt Nature and Death, a quiet sigh put a period to his last breath, and so he fell asleep. And now he seems to rest like Lazarus in Abraham's bosom. Let me here draw his curtain, till with the most glori. ous company of the Patriarchs and Apostles, the most Noble Army of Martyrs and Confessors, this most learned, most hum. ble, holy man shall also awake to receive an eternal tranquillity, and with it a greater degree of glory, than common Christians shall be made partakers of.

In the mean time, Bless, O Lord! Lord, bless his brethren, the Clergy of this nation, with effectual endeavours to attain, if not to his great learning, yet to his remarkable meekness, his godly simplicity, and his Christian moderation ; for these will bring peace at the last. And, Lord, let his most excellent writings be blest with what he designed, when he undertook them : which was, glory to thee, O God! on high, peace in thy Church, and goodwill to mankind. Amen, Amen.


This following Epitaph was long since presented to the world,

in memory of Mr. Hooker, by Sir William Cowper, who also built him a fair Monument in Bourne Church, and acknowl. edges him to have been his spiritual father.

Though nothing can be spoke worthy his fame,
Or the remembrance of that precious name,
Judicious Hooker; though this cost be spent
On him, that hath a lasting monument
In his own books: yet ought we to express,
If not his worth, yet our respectfulness.
Church-Ceremonies he maintain'd; then why
Without all ceremony should he die ?
Was it because his life and death should be
Both equal patterns of humility ?
Or that perhaps this only glorious one
Was above all, to ask, why had he none ?
Yet he, that lay so long obscurely low,
Doth now preferr’d to greater honours go.
Ambitious men, learn hence to be more wise,
Humility is the true way to rise :
And God in me this lesson did inspire,
To bid this humble man, “Friend, sit up higher.”

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And now, having by a long and laborious search satisfied myself, and I hope my Reader, by imparting to him the true relation of Mr. Hooker's life, I am desirous also to acquaint him with some observations that relate to it, and which could not properly fall to be spoken till after his death : of which my Reader may expect a brief and true account in the following Appendix.

And first, it is not to be doubted but that he died in the forty-seventh, if not in the forty-sixth year of his age : which I mention, because many have believed him to be more aged: but I have so examined it, as to be confident I mistake not: and for the year of his death, Mr. Camden, who in his Annals of Queen Elizabeth, 1599, mentions him with a high commendation of his life and learning, declares him to die in the year 1599; and yet in that inscription of his Monument, set up at the charge of Sir William Cowper, in Bourne Church, where Mr. Hooker was buried, his death is there said to be in anno 1603; but doubtless both are mistaken ; for I have it attested under the hand of William Somner, the Archbishop's Registrar for the Province of Canterbury, that Richard Hooker's Will bears date October 26th in anno 1600, and that it was proved the third of December following.*

And that at his death he left four daughters, Alice, Cicely, Jane and Margaret; that he gave to each of them an hundred pounds; that he left Joan, his wife, his sole executrix; and that, by his inventory his estate—a great part of it being in books-came to 10921. 98. 2d. which was much more than he thought himself worth ; and which was not got by his care, much less by the good housewifery of his wife, but saved by his trusty servant, Thomas Lane,

* And the Reader may take notice, that since I first writ this Appendix to the Life of Mr. Hooker, Mr. Fulman, of Corpus Christi College, hath shewed me a good authority for the very day and hour of Mr. Hooker's death, in one of his books of Polity, which had been Archbishop Laud's. In which book, beside many considerable marginal notes of some passages of his time, under the Bishop's own hand, there is also written in the titlepage of that book-which now is Mr. Fulman's—this attestation:

Ricardus Hooker vir summis doctrinæ dotibus ornatus, de Ecclesia præcipue Anglicana optime meritus, obiit Novemb. 2, circiter horam secundam postmeridianam, Anno 1600.

that was wiser than his master in getting money for him, and more frugal than his mistress in keeping of it. Of which will of Mr. Hooker's I shall say no more, but that his dear friend Thomas, the father of George Cranmer,—of whom I have spoken, and shall have occasion to say more,—was one of the witnesses to it

One of his elder daughters was married to one Chalinor, sometime a Schoolmaster in Chichester, and are both dead long sir.ce. Margaret, his youngest daughter, was married unto Ezekiel Charke, Bachelor in Divinity, and Rector of St. Nicholas in Harbledown near Canterbury, who died about sixteen years past, and had a son Ezekiel, now living, and in Sacred Orders; being at this time Rector of Waldron in Sussex. She left also a daughter, with both whom I have spoken not many months past, and find her to be a widow in a condition that wants not, but very far from abounding. And these two attested unto me, that Richard Hooker, their grandfather, had a sister, by name Elizabeth Harvey, that lived to the age of 121 years, and died in the month of September, 1663.

For his other two daughters I can learn little certainty, but have heard they both died before they were marriageable. And for his wife, she was so unlike Jephtha's daughter, that she staid not a comely time to bewail her widowhood; nor lived long enough to repent her second marriage ; for which, doubtless, she would have found cause, if there had been but four months betwixt Mr. Hook. er's and her death. But she is dead, and let her other infirmities be buried with her.

Thus much briefly for his age, the year of his death, his estate, his wife, and his children. I am next to speak of his books; concerning which I shall have a necessity of being longer, or shall neither do right to myself, or my Reader, which is chiefly intended in this Appendix.

I have declared in his Life, that he proposed Eight Books, and that his first Four were printed anno 1594, and his Fisth book first printed, and alone, anno 1597; and that he lived to finish the remaining Three of the proposed Eight: but whether we have the last Three as finished by himself, is a just and material question; concerning which I do declare, that I have been told almost forty years past, by one that very well knew Mr. Hooker and the affairs of his family, that, about a month after the death of Mr. Hooker, Bishop Whitgift, then Archbishop of Canterbury, sent one of his Chaplains to enquire of Mrs. Hooker, for the three remaining books of Polity, writ by her husband: of which she would not, or could not, give any account: and that about three months after that time the Bishop procured her to be sent for to London, and then by his procurement she was to be examined by some of her Majesty's Council, concerning the disposal of those books: but, by way of preparation for the next day's examination, the Bishop invited her to Lambeth, and after some friendly questions, she confessed to him, that one Mr. Charke, and another Minister that dwelt near Canterbury, came to her, and desired that they might go into her husband's study, and look upon some of his writings; and that there they two burnt and tore many of them, assuring her, that they were

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