CULCOR ET claudi  
W·Dolle·F    

Reliquiae Wottonianae: OR, A COLLECTION Of LIVES, LETTERS, POEMS; WITH CHARACTERS OF Sundry. PERSONAGES: And other Incomparable PIECES of LANGUAGE and ART.  
Also Additional Letters to several Persons, not before Printed.  
BY THE Curious Pencil of the Ever Memorable Sir HENRY WOTTON K t.  
Late Provost of Eton college.  
The Third Edition, with large Additions.  
LONDON, Printed by T. Roycroft, for R. Marriott, F. Titan, T. Collins, and I. Ford, 1672.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE PHILIP EARL of Chesterfield, Lord Stanhop of Shelford.  
My Lord,  
I HAVE conceived many Reasons, why I ought in justice to Dedicate these relics of Your Great Uncle, Sir Henry Wotton, to Your Lordship; some of which are, that both Your grandmother and Mother had a double Right to them by a Dedication when first made public; as also, for their assisting me then, and since, with many Material Informations for the Writing his Life; and for giving me many of the Letters that have fallen from his curious Pen: so that they being now dead; these relics descend to You●… as Heir to ●…hem, and the Inheritor of the m●…orable Bocton Palace, the Place of his Birth, where so many of the Ancient, and Prudent, and Valiant Family of the Wottons lie now-Bar●…ed, whose remarkable Monuments You have lately Beautified, and to them added so many of so great Worth, as hath made it appear, that at the Erecting and Ad●…ging them, You were above the thought of Charge that they might, if possible, (for 'twas no easy undertaking) boldsome propor●…●…mith the Merits of Your Ancestors.  
My Lord, These are a part of many more Penso●… that have inclined me to this Dedication; and these, with the Example of a Liberty that is not given, but now too usually taken by many scribblers, to make trifling Dedications, might have begot a boldness in some Men of as mean as my mean Abilities to have undertaken this. But indeed, my Lord, though I was ambitious enough of undertaking it; yet, as Sir Henry Wotton hath said in a Piece of his own Character, That he was condemned by Nature to a bashfulness in making Requests: so I find myself (pardon the Parallel) so like him in this, that if I had not had more Reasons than I have yet expressed, these alone had not been powerful enough to have created a Confidence in me to have attempted it. Two of my unexpressed Reasons are, (give me leave to tell them to Your Lordship and the World) that Sir Henry Wotton, whose many Merits made him an Ornament even to Your Family, was yet so humble, as to acknowledge me to be his Friend; and died in a belief that I was so: since which time, I have made him the best return of my Gratitude for his condescension, that I have been able to express, or he capable of receiving: and, am pleased with myself for so doing.  
My other Reason of this boldness, is, an encouragement (very like a command) from Your worthy Cousin, and my Friend, Mr. Charles Cotton, who hath assared me, that You are such a Lover of the Memory of Your Generous uncle, Sir Henry Wotton, that if there were no other Reason then my endeavours to preserve it, yet, that that alone would secure this Dedication from being unacceptable.  
I wish, that nor he, nor I be mistaken; and that I were able to make You a more Worthy Present.  
My Lord, I am and will be  
Your Humble and most Affectionate Servant,  
Iziak Walton.  
Feb. 27. 1672.   

AN ADVERTISEMENT TO THE READER.  
YOu may be pleased to take notice, that in this last Relation of Sir Henry Wotton's Life, 'tis both enlarged, and some small errors rectified; so that I may now be confident, there is no material mistakes in it.  
There is in this Impression an Addition of many Letters; in which, the spirit with which they were writ, will assure them to be Sir Henry Wotton's.  
For his Merits, they are above my expressions; and, for that reason, the Reader is requested to take to what I have said of him in his Life, these following Testimonies:  
I. That his Work of Architecture is Translated into Latin, Printed with the Great Vitruvius, and this elegy prefixed,  
HENRICUS WOTTONIUS Anglo Cantianus, Thomae Optimi Viri Filius natu minimus, à Serenissimo Jacobo Io, MAGNAE BRITTANIAE, etc. Rege, in Equestre●… Titulum ascitus; ejusdémque ter ad Remp. VENETAM Legatus Ordinarius; semel ad Confoederatarum Provinciarum Ordines in Juliacensi negotio; bis ad Carolum Emmanuelem Sabaudiae Ducem; semel ad unitos Superioris Germaniae Principes in Conventu Heilbrunnensi; postremò ad Archiducem Leopoldum, Ducem Wirtenbergensem, civitates Imperiales Argentinam Ulmámque, & ipsum Romanorum Imperatorem Ferdinandum II. Legatus extraordinarius; Tandem hoc didicit,  
ANIMAS SAPIENTIORES FIERI QUIESCENDO.  
II. The second testimony is that of the great Secretary of Nature, the Lord Chancellor Bacon, who thought it not beneath Him to collect some of the Apothegms and say of this Author.  
III. Sir Richard Baker in his Chronicle of England sets to his Seal also in a passage, thus; (speaking of men of Note in King James his time).— Sir Henry Wotton was sent Ambassador into Italy— and indeed the kingdom yielded not a fit man to match the Capriciousness of the Italian wits. A man of so able dexterity with his Pen, that he hath done himself much wrong, and the Kingdom a great deal more, in leaving no more of his Writings behind him.   

AN ACCOUNT Of the WORK.  
NOw of the Work itself, Thou shalt find in it many curious things about Architecture. Fountains. Picture. Groves. Sculpture. Aviaries. Landscape. Conservatories of rare beasts. Magnetical experiments.  Gardens. Fishponds.  
And also many Observations of the Mysteries and Labyrinths in Courts and States, delivered in Lives, Letters to, and Characters of sundry Personages: As,  
Observations and Characters (which He took in his employments abroad) of these Dukes of Venice: Giovanni Bembo. Nani. Priuli. Donato. Giustiniano's. Ferdin. Gr. Duke of Tuscany.  
An Account of Foscarini.  
Of the archduke Leopold Of Count Tampire.  

Artists and Famous men mentioned.  Tycobrahe. Count Bevilacqua. Kepler. Leon Alberti. Aldrovandus. Philip D'Orme. Albert Durer. Anto. Labaca censured Palladio. Michael Angelo B.  Sir Henry Fanshaw.  
Observations (at home) of the Courts of Queen Elizabeth, King James, and King Charles, with Lives and Characters of Earl of Essex. Duke of Buckingham.  Of K. Charles I.  

Characters and Observations of  Queen Elizabeth. Q. of Bohemia. E. of Essex Father. Duke of Buckingham. E. of Leicester. Spanish Journey. E. of Essex employments. L. Bacon. Arch. B. Whitgift. L. Treasurer Weston. M. Anthony Bacon. L. Treasurer Juxton. Sir Robert Cecil. Bp. Bedel. The Cecillians. Isle of rheezes. Walter Devereux. Of the Duke's Ominous presages. Sir Philip Sidney.  Sir Walter Raleigh. Countess of Denbigh. Secretary Cuff. Arch. Bishop. Of K. james. B. of Ely. K. Charles. Part of the Authors own Character. Q Mary.   

Censures of  Felton. Stamford. D. Egglesham. Scioppius.   

THE LIFE OF Sir HENRY WOTTON.  
SIR Henry Wotton (whose Life I now intent to write) was born in the Year of our Redemption 1568. in boctonhall, (commonly called Bocton, or Bougton- place, or Palace) in the Parish of Bocton Malherb, in the fruitful Country of Kent: boctonhall being an ancient and goodly Structure, beautifying, and being beautified by the Parish Church of Bocton Malherb 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 Negotiations 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 Malherb 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 controller of Callais, where he died, and lies honourably buried.  
Sir Edward Wotton of Bocton Malherb 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 Callais, and of the Privy council to King Henry the Eight, who offered him to be Lord Chancellor of England; but (saith 
* In his Chronicle.  Hollinshed) out of a virtuous modesty he refused it.  
Thomas Wotton of Bocton Malherb 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 Courtoffering him a knighthood, (she was then with him at his Boctonhall) 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 commendation 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 Lambert, in his Perambulation of Kent.  
This Thomas had four Sons, Sir Edward, Sir James, Sir John, and Sir Henry.  
Sir Edward was Knighted by Queen Elizabeth, and made controller of Her majesty's household. He was (saith Cambden) 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 controller 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 38 of Queen Elizabeth's Reign (with Robert Earl of Sussex, Count Lodowick of Nassaw, 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 forenamed Wottons were 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; 
* Cambden in his Britannia.  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 Cambden) 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 ploughs' 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 
* Hollinshed.  Arch bishop 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 Wotton, 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 employment, had been pleased to have commended his to Posterity; But, since some years are now past, and they have all (I know not why) forborn to do it; my gratitude to the memory of my dead friend, and the renewed request of some 
* Sir Edward Bish Clarentieux King of Arms, M. Charles Cotton, and, Mr. Nick Oudert sometime Sir Hen. Wotton's Servant.  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 some 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.  
that had lawsuits.  
that were of his Kindred.     
And yet, following his own lawsuits, he met in Westminster-hall with Mrs. Elionora Morton, Widow to Robert Morton of Kent Esq 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 an higher Form, (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-Colledge 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 Queens-Colledge; where within that year, he was by the chief of that college, perswasively 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 sleight 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 G●…arini (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 proceeded 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.  
These were so exactly debated, and so Rhetorically heightened, as, among other admirers, caused that learned Italian, Albericus Gentilis (than Professor of the Civil Law in Oxford) to call him Henrice mi●…celle; 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 rend charge of an hundred Mark a year, to be paid for ever, out of some 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 concern 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.  
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: But, 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, then intent 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 
* St. Austin's Confession.  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 humane 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 written to the Queen ('twas 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 th●… true reason of his request, when he should ●…xt become s●… happy as to see, and speak to her Majesty.  
'Twas 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 Wyatt 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 ●…ad 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 discovering things past: And, the particular is this; This Thomas, a little before his death, dreamed that the University Treasury was rob 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 enquiry of it; the Letter (which was writ out of Kent, and dated three days before) came to his Sons hands the very morning after the night in which the Robbery was committed; and when the City and University were both in a perplexed Enquest of the thiefs, than 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 this 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 (sometimes Dean of St. Paul's) a man of whose abilities I shall forbear to say any thing, 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 an University, and there maintained by correspondent Inclinations and Studies, so it lasted till Age and Death forced a Separation.  
In Oxford he stayed till about two years after his father's death; at which time, he was about the two and twentieth year of his Age: and having to his great Wit added the ballast of Learning, and knowledge of the Arts, he then laid aside his Books, and betook himself to the useful Library of Travel, and a more general Conversation with Mankind; employing the remaining part of his Youth, his industry and fortune to adorn his mind, and to purchase the rich Treasure of Foreign knowledge; of which, both for the secrets of Nature, the dispositions of many Nations, their several Laws and Languages, he was the possessor in a very large measure; as I shall faithfully make to appear, before I take my Pen from the following Narration of his Life.  
In his Travels, which was almost nine years before his return into England, he stayed but one year in France, and most of that in Geneva; where he became acquainted with Theodor Beza (then very aged) and with Isaac Causabon, in whose house (if I be rightly informed) Sir Henry Wotton was lodged, and there contracted a most worthy friendship with that man of rare Learning and Ingenuity.  
Three of the remaining eight years were spent in Germany, the other five in Italy, (the Stage on which God appointed he should act a great part of his life) where both in Rome, Venice and Florence, he became acquainted with the most eminent men for Learning, and all manner of Arts; as Picture, Sculpture, chemistry, Architecture, and other manual Arts, even Arts of inferior nature; of all which, he was a most dear Lover, and a most excellent Judge.  
He returned out of Italy into England about the thirtieth year of his age, being then noted by many, both for his person and comportment; for indeed he was of a choice shape, tall of stature, and of a most persuasive behaviour; which was so mixed with sweet Discourse, and Civilities, as gained him much love from all Persons with whom he entered into an acquaintance.  
And whereas he was noted in his Youth to have a sharp Wit, and apt to jest; that, by Time, Travel, and Conversation, was so polished, and made so useful, that his company seemed to be one of the delights of mankind; insomuch as Robert Earl of Essex (than one of the Darlings of Fortune, and in greatest favour with Queen Elizabeth) invited him first into a friendship, and after a knowledge of his great abilities, to be one of his Secretaries; the other being Mr. Henry Cuffe, sometimes of Merton college in Oxford (and there also the Acquaintance of Sir Henry Wotton in his Youth) Mr. Cuffe being then a man of no common note in the University for his Learning; nor after his removal from that place, for the great abilities of his mind; nor indeed, for the fatalness of his end.  
Sir Henry Wotton being now taken into a serviceable friendship with the Earl of Essex, did personally attend his Counsels and Employments in two Voyages at Sea against the Spaniard, and also in that (which was the Earls last) into Ireland; that Voyage wherein he then did so much provoke the Queen to anger, and worse at his return into England; upon whose immovable favour the Earl had built such sandy hopes, as encouraged him to those undertake, which with the help of a contrary Faction suddenly caused his Commitment to the Tower.  
Sir Henry Wotton observing this, though he was not of that Faction (for the Earls Followers were also divided into their several interests) which encouraged the Earl to those undertake which proved so fatal to him, and divers of his Confederation: yet, knowing Treason to be so comprehensive, as to take in even Circumstances, and out of them to make such positive Conclusions as subtle statesmen shall project, either for their revenge or safety; considering this, he thought prevention by absence out of England, a better security then to stay in it, and there plead his innocency in a Prison. Therefore did he, so soon as the Earl was apprehended, very quickly, and as privately glide through Kent to Dover, without so much as looking toward his native and beloved Bocton; and was by the help of favourable winds, and liberal payment of the Mariners, within sixteen hours after his departure from London, set upon the French shore; where he heard shortly after, that the Earl was arraigned, Condemned, and Beheaded; and that his Friend Mr. Cuffe was hanged, and divers other Persons of Eminent Quality executed.  
The Times did not look so favourably upon Sir Henry Wotton, as to invite his return into England; having therefore procured of Sir Edward Wotton, his elder Brother, an assurance that his Annuity should be paid him in Italy, thither he went, happily renewing his intermitted friendship and interest, and indeed, his great content in a new conversation with his old Acquaintance in that Nation; and more particularly in Florence, (which City is not more eminent for the Great Duke's Court, then for the great recourse of men of choicest note for Learning and Arts;) in which number he there met with his old Friend Signior Vietta, a Gentleman of Venice, and then taken to be Secretary to the Great Duke of Tuscany.  
After some stay in Florence, he went the fourth time to visit Rome, where in the English college he had very many Friends (their humanity made them really so, though they knew him to be a dissenter from many of their Principles of Religion;) and having enjoyed their company, and satisfied himself concerning some Curiosities that did partly occasion his Journey thither, he returned back to Florence, where a most notable accident befell him; an accident that did not only find new employment for his choice Abilities, but introduce him a knowledge and an interest with our King James, than King of Scotland; which I shall proceed to relate.  
But first, I am to tell the Reader, That though Queen Elizabeth (or she and her Council) were never willing to declare her Successor; yet James then King of the Scots, was confidently believed by most to be the man upon whom the sweet trouble of Kingly Government would be imposed; and the Queen declining very fast, both by age and visible infirmities, those that were of the Romish persuasion in point of Religion (even Rome itself, and those of this Nation) knowing that the death of the Queen, and the establishing of her Successor, were taken to be critical days for destroying or establishing the Protestant Religion in this Nation, did therefore improve all opportunities for preveting a Protestant Prince to succeed Her. And as the Pope's Excommunication of Queen Elizabeth, had both by the judgement and practice of the Jesuited Papist, exposed her to be warrantably destroyed; so (if we may believe an angry Adversary, a 
* Watson in his Quodlibets.  secular Priest against a Jesuit) you may believe, that about that time there were many endeavours, first to excommunicate, and then to shorten the life of King james.  
Immediately after Sir Henry Wotton's return from Rome to Florence, (which was about a year before the death of Queen Elizabeth) Ferdinand the Great Duke of Florence had intercepted certain Letters that discovered a design to take away the life of James the then King of Scots. The Duke abhorring the Fact, and resolving to endeavour a prevention of it, advised with his Secretary Vietta, by what means a caution might be best given to that King; and after consideration, it was resolved to be done by Sir Henry Wotton, whom Vietta first commended to the Duke; and the Duke had noted and approved of above all the English that frequented his Court.  
Sir Henry was gladly called by his Friend Vietta to the Duke, who after much profession of trust and friendship, acquainted him with the secret; and being well instructed, dispatched him into Scotland with Letters to the King, and with those Letters, such Italian Antidotes against poison, as the Scots till then had been strangers to.  
Having parted from the Duke, he took up the Name and Language of an Italian; and thinking it best to avoid the line of English intelligence and danger, he posted into Norway, and through that Country towards Scotland, where he found the King at Sterling; being there, he used means by Be●…ard Lindsey, one of the King's Bed Chamber, to procure him a speedy and private conference with his Majesty, assuring him, That the business which he was to negotiate, was of such consequence, as had caused the Great Duke of Tuscany to enjoin him suddenly to leave his Native Country of Italy, to impart it to his King.  
This being by Bernard Lindsey made known to the King, the King after a little wonder, (mixed with jealousy) to hear of an Italian Ambassador, or Messenger, required his Name, (which was said to be Octavio Baldi) and appointed him to be heard privately at a fixed hour that Evening.  
When Octavio Baldi came to the Presence-Chamber-door, he was requested to lay aside his long Rapier (which Italian-like he then wore) and being entered the Chamber, he found there with the King three or four Scotch Lords standing distant in several corners of the Chamber: at the sight of whom he made a stand; which the King observing, bade him be bold, and deliver his Message; for he would undertake for the secrecy of all that were present. Then did Octavio Baldi deliver his Letters and his Message to the King in Italian; which, when the King had graciously received, after a little pause, Octavio Baldi steps to the Table, and whispers to the King in his own Language, that he was an English man, beseeching Hini for a more private conference with His Majesty, and that he might be concealed during his stay in that Nation; which was promised, and really performed by the King during all his abode there, (which was about three Months) all which time was spent with much pleasantness to the King, and with as much to Octavio Baldi himself, as that country could afford; from which he departed as true an Italian as he came thither.  
To the Duke at Florence he returned with a fair and grateful account of his employment, and within some few months after his return, there came certain News to Florence, that Queen Elizabeth was dead; and, James King of the Scots proclaimed King of England. The Duke knowing travel and business to be the best Schools of wisdom, and that Sir Henry Wotton had been tutored in both, advised him to return presently to England, and there joy the King with his new and better Title, and wait there upon Fortune for a better employment.  
When King James came into England, he found, amongst other of the late Queen's Officers, Sir Edward, who was after Lord Wotton, controller of the House, of whom he demanded, If he knew one Henry Wotton, that had spent much time in foreign Travel? The Lord replied, he knew him well, and that he was his Brother; then the King ask where he then was, was answered, at Venice, or Florence; but by late Letters from thence, he understood, he would suddenly be at Paris. Send for him, said the King, and when he shall come into England, bid him repair privately to me. The Lord Wotton after a little wonder, asked the King, If he knew him? to which the King answered, You must rest unsatisfied of that, till you bring the Gentleman to me.  
Not many months after this Discourse, the Lord Wotton brought his Brother to attend the King, who took him in His Arms, and bade him welcome by the Name of Octavio Baldi, saying, he was the most honest, and therefore the best Dissembler that ever he met with: And said, Seeing I know you neither want Learning, Travel, nor Experience, and that I have had so real a Testimony of your faithfulness and abilities to manage an Ambassage, I have sent for you to declare my purpose; which is, to make use of you in that kind hereafter: And indeed the King did so most of those two and twenty years of his reign; but before he dismissed Octavio Baldi from his present attendance upon him, he restored him to his old Name of Henry Wotton, by which he then Knighted him.  
Not long after this, the King having resolved, according to his Motto (Beati pacifici) to have a friendship with his Neighbour-Kingdoms of France and Spain, and also for divers weighty reasons, to enter into an Alliance with the State of Venice, and to that end to send Ambassadors to those several places, did propose the choice of these employments to Sir Henry Wotton; who considering the smallness of his own Estate (which he never took care to augment) and knowing the Courts of great Princes to be sumptuous, and necessarily expensive, inclined most to that of Venice, as being a place of more retirement, and best suiting with his Genius, who did ever love to join with Business, Study, and a trial of natural Experiments; for both which fruitful Italy, that Darling of Nature, and Cherisher of all Arts, is so justly famed in all parts of the Christian World.  
Sir Henry having after some short time and consideration, resolved upon Venice, and a large allowance being appointed by the King for his voyage thither, and a settled maintenance during his stay there, he left England, nobly accompanied through France to Venice, by Gentlemen of the best Families and breeding that this Nation afforded; they were too many to name, but these two, for following reasons may not be omitted; Sir Albertus Morton his Nephew, who went his Secretary; and William Bedel, a man of choice Learning, and sanctified Wisdom, who went his Chaplain. And, though his dear friend Dr. Donne (than a private Gentleman) was not one of that number that did personally accompany him in this Voyage, yet the reading of this following Letter sent by him to Sir Henry Wotton, the morning before he left England, may testify he wanted not his friends best wishes to attend him.  
SIR,  

AFter those reverend Papers, whose soul is (name:  
Our good, and great Kings loved hand, and feared  
By which to you he derives much of his,  
And, how he may, makes you almost the same;   

A Taper of his Torch: a Copy writ  
From his Original, and a fair Beam  
Of the same warm and dazzling Sun, though it  
Must in another sphere his virtue stream;   

After those Learned Papers which your hand  
Hath stored with notes of use and pleasure too:  
From which rich treasury you may command  
Fit matter whether you will write or do:   

After those loving Papers which Friends send  
With glad grief to your Sea-ward-steps faerewel,  
And thicken on you now as prayers ascend  
To Heaven on troops at a good man's passing-Bell:   

Admit this honest Paper; and, allow  
It such an audience as yourself would ask;  
What you would say at Venice, this says now,  
And has for nature what you have for task.   

To swear much love; nor to be changed before  
Honour alone will to your fortune fit;  
Nor, shall I then honour your fortune more,  
Then I have done your honour-wanting-wit.   

But 'tis an easier load (though both oppress)  
To want, then govern greatness; for we are  
In that, our own, and only business;  
In this, we must for others vices care.   

'Tis therefore well, your spirits now are placed  
In their last furnace, in activity; (ore-p●…  
Which fits them: Schools, and Courts, and Wars  
To touch and taste in any best degree.   

For me! (if there be such a thing as I)  
Fortune (if there be such a thing as she)  
Finds that I bear so well her tyranny,  
That she thinks nothing else so fit for me.   

But, though she part us, to hear my oft prayers  
For your increase, God is as near me here:  
And, to send you what I shall beg, his stairs  
In length, and ease, are alike every where.   
J. Donne.  
SIR Henry Wotton was received by the State o●… Venice, with much honour and gladness, bot●… for that he delivered his Ambassage most elegantly in the Italian Language, and came also in such a Juncture of time, as his master's friendship seemed useful for that republic: the time of his coming thither was about the year 1604. Leonardo Donato being then Duke; a wise and resolved man, and to all purposes such (Sir Henry Wotton would often say it) as the State of Venice could not then have wanted; there having been formerly in the time of Pope Clement the eighth, some contests about the privileges of churchmen, and the power of the Civil Magistrate; of which, for the information of common Readers, I shall say a little, because it may give light to some passages that follow.  
About the year 1603. the republic of Venice made several Injunctions against lay-people giving Lands or Goods to the Church, without Licence from the Civil Magistrate; and in that inhibition, they expressed their reasons to be, For that when any Goods or Land once came into the hands of the ecclesiastics, it was not subject to alienation; by reason whereof, (the Lay-people being at their death charitable even to excess) the Clergy grew every day more numerous, and, pretended an exemption from all public service, and Taxes, and from all secular Judgement: so that the burden grew thereby too heavy to be born by the Laity.  
Another occasion of difference was, That about this time complaints were justly made by the Venetians against two clergymen, the Abbot of Nervesa, and a Canon of Vicenza, for committing such sins, as I think not fit to name; nor are these mentioned with an intent to fix a Scandal upon any Calling; (for holiness is not tied to Ecclesiastical Orders, and Italy is observed to breed the most virtuous, and most vicious men of any Nation) these two having been long complained of at Rome in the Name of the State of Venice, and no satisfaction being given to the Venetians, they seized the persons of this Abbot and Canon, and committed them to prison.  
The justice, or injustice of such or the like power, then used by the Venetians, had formerly had some calm debates betwixt the former Pope Clement the Eighth, and that republic: I say, calm, for he did not excommunicate them; considering (as I conceive) that in the late Council of Trent it was at last (after many politic disturbances, and delays, and endeavours to preserve the Pope's present power) in order to a general reformation of those many Errors, which were in time crept into the Church, declared by that Counsel, That though Discipline, and especial Excommunication be one of the chief sinews of Church Government, and intended to keep men in obedience to it: for which end, it was declared to be very profitable; yet, it was also declared, and advised to be used with great sobriety and care: because experience had informed them, that when it was pronounced unadvisedly, or rashly, it became more contemned then feared. And, though this was the advice of that Council at the Conclusion of it, which was not many years before this quarrel with the Venetians: yet this prudent, patiented Pope Clement dying, Pope Paul the fifth, who succeeded him, (though not immediately, yet in the same year) being a man of a much hotter temper, brought this difference with the Venetians to a much higher Contention: objecting those late acts of that State, to be a diminution of his just power, and limited a time of twenty four days for their revocation; threatening, if he were not obeyed, to proceed to Excommunication of the republic; who still offered to show both reason and ancient custom to warrant their Actions. But this Pope, contrary to his Predecessors moderation, required absolute obedience without disputes.  
Thus it continued for about a year; the Pope still threatening Excommunication, and the Venetians still answering him with fair speeches, and no compliance, till at last, the Pope's zeal to the Apostolic Sea, did make him to excommunicate the Duke, the whole Senate, and all their Dominions; and that done to shut up all their Churches; charging the whole Clergy to forbear all sacred Offices to the Venetians, till their Obedience should render them capable of Absolution.  
But this act of the Popes did but the more confirm the Venetians in their resolution not to obey him; And to that end, upon the hearing of the Popes Interdict, they presently published by sound of Trumpet, a Proclamation to this effect:  
That whosoever hath received from Rome any Copy of a Papal Interdict, published there, as well against the Law of God, as against the Honour of this Nation, shall presently render it to the council of Ten, upon pain of death.  
Then was Duado their Ambassador called home from Rome, and the Inquisition presently suspended by Order of the State; and, the floodgates being thus set open, any man that had a pleasant or scoffing wit might safely vent it against the Pope, either by free speaking, or by Libels in Print; and, both became very pleasant to the people.  
Matters thus heightened, the State advised with Father▪ Paul, a Holy and Learned friar (the Author of the History of the Council of Trent) whose advice was, Neither to provoke the Pope, nor lose their own Right: he declaring publicly in Print, in the name of the State, That the Pope was trusted to keep two Keys; one of Prudence, and the other of Power: And that if they were not both used together, Power alone is not effectual in an Excommunication.  
And thus these discontents and oppositions continued, till a report was blown abroad, that the Venetians were all turned Protestants: which was believed by many, for that it was observed, the English ambassador was so often in conference with the Senate, and his Chaplain Mr. Bedel more often with Father Paul, whom the People did not take to be his Friend: And also, for that the republic of Venice was known to give Commission to Gregory Justiniano, than their ambassador in England, to make all these proceed known to the King of England, and to crave a Promise of his assistance, if need should require,: and in the mean time they required the King's advice and judgement; which was the same that he gave to Pope Clement, at his first coming to the Crown of England; (that Pope then moving him to an Union with the Roman Church) namely, To endeavour the calling of a free Council, for the settlement of Peace in Christendom: and, that he doubted not, but that the French King, and divers other Princes would join to assist in so good a work; and, in the mean time, the sin of this Breach, both with His, and the Venetians Dominions, must of necessity lie at the Pope ' s door.  
In this contention (which lasted almost two years) the Pope grew still higher, and the Venetians more and more resolved and careless: still acquainting King James with their proceed, which was done by the help of Sir Henry Wotton, Mr. Bedel, and Padre Paulo, whom the Venetians did then call to be one of their Consulters of State, and with his Pen to defend their just Cause: which was by him so performed, that the Pope saw plainly, he had weakened his Power by exceeding it, and offered the Venetians Absolution upon very easy terms; which the Venetians still slighting, did at last obtain, by that which was scarce so much as a show of acknowledging it: For, they made an order, that in that day in which they were absolved, there should be no public rejoicing, nor any Bonfires that night; lest the Common People might judge, that they desired an Absolution, or were Absolved for committing a Fault.  
These Contests were the occasion of Padre Paulo's knowledge and interest with King James, for whose sake principally Padre Paulo compiled that eminent History of the remarkable Council of Trent; which History was, as fast as it was written, sent in several sheets in Letters by Sir Henry Wotton, Mr. Bedel, and others, unto King James, and the than Bishop of Canterbury, into England, and there first made public, both in English and in the universal Language.  
For eight years after Sir Henry Wotton's going into Italy, he stood fair and highly valued in the King's opinion, but at last became much clouded by an accident, which I shall proceed to relate.  
At his first going ambassador into Italy, as he passed through Germany, he stayed some days at Augusta; where having been in his former Travels, well known by many of the best note for Learning and Ingeniousness, (those that are esteemed the virtuosos of that Nation) with whom he passing an evening in merriments, was requested by Christopher Flecamore to write some Sentence in his Albo; (a Book of white Paper, which for that purpose many of the Germane Gentry usually carry about them) and Sir Henry Wotton consenting to the motion, took an occasion from some accidental discourse of the present Company, to write a pleasant definition of an ambassador, in these very words: Legatus est vir bonus peregrè missus ad mentiendum Reipublicae causâ.  
Which Sir Henry Wotton could have been content should have been thus Englished: An ambassador is an honest man, sent to lie abroad for the good of his Country.  
But the word for lie (being the hinge upon which the Conceit was to turn) was not so expressed in Latin, as would admit (in the hands of an Enemy especially) so fair a construction as Sir Henry thought in English. Yet as it was, it slept quietly among other Sentences in this Albo, almost eight years, till by accident it fell into the hands of jasper Scioppius, a Romanist, a man of a restless spirit, and a malicious Pen: who with Books against King James, Prints this as a Principle of that Religion professed by the King, and his ambassador Sir Henry Wotton, then at Venice: and in Venice it was presently after written in several Glass-windows, and spitefully declared to be Sir Henry wotton's.  
This coming to the knowledge of King James, he apprehended it to be such an oversight, such a weakness, or worse, in Sir Henry Wotton, as caused the King to express much wrath against him: and this caused Sir Henry Wotton to write two Apologies, one to Velserus (one of the Chiefs of Augusta) in the universal Language, which he caused to be Printed, and given, and scattered in the most remarkable places both of Germany and Italy, as an Antidote against the venomous Books of Scioppius; and another Apology to King James: which were both so ingenious, so clear, and so choicely Eloquent, that his Majesty (who was a pure Judge of it) could not forbear, at the receipt thereof, to declare publicly, That Sir Henry Wotton had commuted sufficiently for a greater offence.  
And now, as broken bones well set become stronger; so Sir Henry Wotton did not only recover, but was much more confirmed in his majesty's estimation and favour then formerly he had been.  
And as that Man of great Wit and useful Fancy (his Friend Dr. Donne) gave in a Will of his (a Will of Conceits) his Reputation to his Friends, and his Industry to his Foes, because from thence he received both: so those Friends, that in this time of trial laboured to excuse this facetious freedom of Sir Henry wotton's, were to him more dear, and by him more highly valued; and those Acquaintance that urged this as an advantage against him, caused him by this error to grow both more wise, and (which is the best fruit error can bring forth) for the future to become more industriously watchful over his Tongue and Pen.  
I have told you a part of his Employment in Italy, where notwithstanding the death of his favourer, the Duke Leonardo Donato, who had an undissembled affection for him, and the malicious Accusation of Scioppius; yet his interest (as though it had been an entailed love) was still found to live and increase in all the succeeding Dukes, during his Employment to that State, which was almost twenty years; all which time he studied the dispositions of those Dukes, and the other Consulters of State; well knowing, that he who negotiates a continued business, and neglects the study of dispositions, usually fails in his proposed ends: But in this Sir Henry Wotton did not fail; for by a fine sorting of fit Presents, curious and not costly Entertainments, always sweetened by various and pleasant Discourse; with which, and his choice application of Stories, and his elegant Delivery of all these, even in their Italian Language, he first got, and still preserved such interest in the State of Venice, that it was observed (such was either his (merit, or his modesty) they never denied him any request.  
But, all this shows but his abilities, and his fitness for that Employment: 'Twill therefore be needful to tell the Reader, what use he made of the Interest which these procured him; and that indeed was, rather to oblige others then to enrich himself; he still endeavouring that the Reputation of the English might be maintained, both in the Germane Empire, and in Italy; where many Gentlemen whom Travel had invited into that Nation, received from him cheerful Entertainments, advice for their behaviour, and by his interest shelter, or deliverance from those accidental storms of adversity which usually attend upon Travel.  
And because these things may appear to the Reader to be but Generals, I shall acquaint him with two particular Examples; one of his merciful Disposition, and one of the Nobleness of his Mind; which shall follow.  
There had been many English soldiers brought by Commanders of their own Country, to serve the Venetians for pay against the Turk: and those English, having by Irregularities, or Improvidence, brought themselves into several galleys and Prisons, Sir Henry Wotton became a Petitioner to that State for their Lives and Enlargement; and his Request was granted: so that those (which were many hundreds, and there made the sad Examples of Humane Misery, by hard Imprisonment, and unpitied Poverty in a strange Nation) were by his means released, relieved, and in a comfortable Condition sent to thank God and him for their Lives and Liberty in their own Country.  
And this I have observed as one testimony of the compassionate Nature of him, who was (during his stay in those parts) as a City of Refuge for the Distressed of this and other Nations.  
And for that which I offer as a Testimony of the Nobleness of his Mind; I shall make way to the Readers clearer understanding of it, by telling him, that beside several other Foreign Employments, Sir Henry Wotton was sent thrice ambassador to the republic of Venice; and at his last going thither, he was employed ambassador to several of the Germane Princes, and more particularly to the Emperor Ferdinando the second; and that his Employment to him, and those Princes, was to incline them to equitable Conditions, for the Restauration of the Queen of Bohemia, and her descendants, to their Patrimonial Inheritance of the Palatinate.  
This was by his eight Months constant endeavours and attendance upon the Emperor, his Court and council, brought to a probability of a successful Conclusion without bloodshed: but there was at that time two opposite Armies in the Field; and as they were Treating, there was a Battle fought; in the managery whereof, there was so many miserable Errors on the one side, (so Sir Henry Wotton expresses it in a Dispatch to the King) and so advantageous Events to the Emperor, as put an end to all present Hopes of a successful Treaty: so that Sir Henry seeing the face of Peace altered by that Victory, prepared for a Removal from that Court; and at his departure from the Emperor, was so bold as to remember him, That the Events of every Battle move on the unseen Wheels of Fortune, which are this moment up, and down the next: and therefore humbly advised him to use his Victory so soberly, as still to put on thoughts of Peace. Which Advice, though it seemed to be spoke with some Passion, (his dear Mistress the Queen of Bohemia being concerned in it) was yet taken in good part by the Emperor; who replied, That he would consider his Advice: And though he looked on the King his Master as an Abettor of his Enemy the Paulsgrave; yet for Sir Henry himself, his behaviour had been such during the manage of the Treaty, that he took him to be a Person of much Honour and Merit, and did therefore desire him to accept of that Jewel, as a testimony of his good opinion of him; which was a Jewel of Diamonds of more value than a Thousand Pounds.  
This Jewel was received with all outward Circumstances and Terms of Honour by Sir Henry Wotton: but the next morning, at his departing from Vienna, he at his taking leave of the Countess of Sabrina (an Italian Lady, in whose House the Emperor had appointed him to be lodged, and honourably entertained:) he acknowledged her Merits, and besought her to accept of that Jewel, as a testimony of his gratitude for her Civilities: presenting her with the same that was given him by the Emperor: which being suddenly discovered, and told to the Emperor, was by him taken for a high affront, and Sir Henry Wotton told so by a Messenger. To which he replied, That though he received it with thankfulness, yet he found in himself an indisposition to be the better for any gift that came from an Enemy to his Royal Mistress the Queen of Bohemia; for so she was pleased he should always call her.  
Many other of his Services to his Prince, and this Nation, might be insisted upon: as namely, his procurations of privileges and Courtesies with the Germane Princes, and the republic of Venice, for the English Merchants; and what he did by direction of King James with the Venetian State, concerning the Bishop of Spalato's return to the Church of Rome. But for the particulars of these, and many more that I meant to make known, I want a view of some Papers that might inform me, (his late majesty's Letter Office having now suffered a strange alienation) and indeed I want time too; for the Printers Press stays for what is written: so that I must haste to bring Sir Henry Wotton in an instant from Venice to London, leaving the Reader to make up what is defective in this place, by the small supplement of the Inscription under his Arms, which he left at all those Houses where he rested, or lodged, when he returned from his last Embassy into England.  
Henricus Wottonius Anglo-Cantianus, Thomae optimi viri 〈◊〉 minimus, à serenissimo Jacobo I●… Mag. Brit●… R●…ge; in equestrem titulum adscitus, ejusdemq●… 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ●…ublicam Venetam Legatus Ordinarius, ●…mel ad confoeder at 〈◊〉 Provinciarum Ordines in Juliacensi ●…tio. Bis ad Carolum Emanuel, Sab●…diae D●…; semel ad unitos superioris. Germaniae Principes in Co●…ventu. Heilbrunensi, postremo ad Archiducem Leopoldum, Ducem Wittembergensem, Civitates imperial●…s, Argentinam, Ulmamque●…, & ipsum Romanorum Imperatorem Ferdinandum secundum, Legatus Extraordinarius, tandem hoc didicit, Animas fieri sapientiores quiescendo.  
To London he came the year before King James died; who having for the reward of his foreign service, promised him the reversion of an Office which was fit to be turned into present money, which he wanted, for a supply of his present necessities, and also granted him the reversion of the Master of the Rolls place, if he outlived charitable Sir Julius Caesar, who then possessed it: and then, grown so old, that he was said to be kept alive beyond nature's Course, by the prayers of those many poor which he daily relieved.  
But, these were but in hope; and his condition required a present support: For in the beginning of these employments he sold to his elder Brother the Lord Wotton, the Rent-charge left by his good Father, and (which is worse) was now at his return indebted to several persons, whom he was not able to satisfy, but by the King's payment of his Arrears due for his foreign employments: He had brought into England many servants, of which some were Germane and Italian Artists; this was part of his condition, who had many times hardly sufficient to supply the occasions of the day: (For it may by no means be said of his providence, as himself said of Sir Philip Sidney's wit, That it was the very measure of congruity) He being always so careless of money, as though our saviour's words, Care not for to morrow, were to be literally understood.  
But it pleased the God of providence, that in this jucture of time, the Provosthip of His mayesties' college of Eton became void by the death of Mr. Thomas Murray, for which there were (as the place deserved) many earnest and powerful suitors to the King. And Sir Henry who had for many years (like Siciphas) rolled the restless stone of a state-employment; knowing experimentally, that the great blessing of sweet content was not to be found in multitudes of men or business: and, that a college was the fittest place to nourish holy thoughts, and to afford rest both to his body and mind, which his age (being now almost threescore years) seemed to require, did therefore use his own, and the interest of all his friends to procure that place. By which means, and quitting the King of his promised reversionary Offices, and a piece of honest policy (which I have not time to relate) he got a Grant of it from His Majesty.  
And this was a fair satisfaction to his mind: but money was wanting to furnish him with those necessaries which attend removes, and a settlement in such a place; and, to procure that, he wrote to his old friend Mr. Nicholas Pey, for his assistance; of which Nicholas Pey, I shall here say a little, for the clearing of some passages that I shall mention hereafter.  
He was in his youth a Clerk, or in some such way, a Servant to the Lord Wotton, Sir Henry's Brother, and by him, when he was controller of the King's household, was made a great Officer in His majesty's House. This, and other favours being conferred upon Mr. Pey (in whom there was a radieal honesty) were always thankfully acknowledged by him, and his gratitude expressed by a willing and unwearied serviceableness to that Family even till his death. To him Sir Henry Wott●… wrote, to use all his interest at Court, to procure Five hundred pounds of his Arrears (for le●… would not settle him in the college) and the want of such a sum, wrinkled his face with care; ('twas his own expression) and, that money being procured, he should the next day after find him in his college, and Invidiae remedium writ over his Study door.  
This money, being part of his Arrears, was by his own, and the help of honest Nicholas Pey's interest in Court, quickly procured him; and he 〈◊〉 quickly in the college; the place where indeed his happiness then seemed to have its beginning: the college being to his mind, as a quiet harbour to a seafaring man after a tempestuous voyage; where, by the bounty of the pious Founder, his very Food and raiment were plentifully provided for him in kind, and more money then enough, where he was freed from all corroding cares, and seated on such a Rock, as the waves of want could not probably shake; where he might sit in a Caelm, and looking down, behold the busy multitude turmoiled and tossed in a tempestuous Sea of trouble and dangers! And (as Sir William Davenant has happily expressed the like of another person) 
Laugh at the graver business of the State,  
Which speaks wen rather wise then fortunate.   
Being thus settled according to the desires of his heart, his first study was the Statutes of the college: by which, he conceived himself bound to enter into Holy Orders, which he did; being made Deacon with all convenient speed; shortly after which time, as he came in his Surplice from the Church service, an old Friend, a person of Quality, met him so attired, and joyed him of his new habit; to whom Sir Henry Wotton replied, I thank God and the King, by whose goodness I now am in this condition; a condition, which that Emperor Charles the Fifth, seemed to approve: who, after so many remarkable Victories, when his glory was great in the eyes of all men, freely gave up his Crown, and the many cares that attended it, to Philip his Son, making a holy retreat to a Cloysteral life, where he might by devout meditations consult with God, (which the rich or busy men seldom do) and have leisure both to examine the errors of his life past, and prepare for that great day, wherein all flesh must make an account of their actions: And after a kind of tempestuous life, I now have the like advantage from him, that makes the out go of the morning to praise him; even from my God, whom I daily magnify for this particular mercy, of an exemption from business, a quiet mind, and a liberal maintenance, even in this part of my life, when my age and infirmities seem to found me a ret●…eat from the pleasures of this world, and invite me to contemplation, in which I have ever taken the greatest felicity.  
And now to speak a little of the employment of his time in the college. After his customary public Devotions, his use was to retire into his Study, and there to spend some hours in reading the Bible, and Authors in Divinity, closing up his meditations with private prayer; this was, for the most part his employment in the Forenoon: But, when he was once sat to Dinner, than nothing but cheerful thoughts possessed his mind; and, those still increased by constant company at his Table, of such persons as brought thither additions both of Learning and Pleasure; but some part of most days was usually spent in Philosophical Conclusions, Nor did he forget his innate pleasure of Angling, which he would usually call, his idle time, not idly spent; saying often, he would rather live five May months, than forty December's.  
He was a great lover of his Neighbours, and a bountiful entertainer of them very often at his Table, where his meat was choice, and his discourse better.  
He was a constant Cherisher of all those youths in that School, in whom he found either a constant diligence, or a Genius that prompted them to Learning; for whose encouragement, he was (beside many other things of necessity and beauty) at the charge of setting up in it two rows of Pillars, on which he caused to be choicely drawn, the pictures of divers of the most famous Greek and Latin Historians, Poets, and Orators; persuading them not to neglect rhetoric, because Almighty God has left Mankind affections to be wrought upon: And he would often say. That none despised Eloquence, but such dull souls as were not capable of it. He would also often make choice of some Observations out of those Historians and Poets: and would never leave the School, without dropping some choice Greek or Latin Apothegm or sentence, that might be worthy of a room in the memory of a growing Scholar.  
He was pleased constantly to breed up one or more hopeful Youths, which he picked out of the School, and took into his own domestic care, and to attend him at his Meals; out of whose Discourse and Behaviour, he gathered observations for the better completing of his intended work of Education: of which, by his still striving to make the whole better, he lived to leave but part to Posterity.  
He was a great Enemy to wrangling Disputes of Religion, concerning which, I shall say a little, both to testify that, and to show the readiness of his Wit..  
Having at his being in Rome made acquaintance with a pleasant Priest, who invited him one Evening to hear their Vesper music at Church; the Priest seeing Sir Henry stand obscurely in a corner, sends to him by a Boy of the choir this Question, writ in a small piece of Paper, Where was your Religion to be found before Luther? To which Question Sir Henry presently underwit, My Religion was to be found then, where yours is not to be found now, in the written Word of God.  
The next Vesper, Sir Henry went purposely to the same Church, and sent one of the Quire-boyes with this Question, to his honest, pleasant friend, the Priest; Do you believe all those many Thousands of poor Christians were damned, that were Excommunicated, because the Pope, and the Duke of Venice, could not agree about their temporal power? Speak your Conscience. To which he underwit in French, Monsieur, excusay moy.  
To one that asked him, Whether a Papist may 〈◊〉 saved? he replied, You may be saved without knowing that. Look to yourself.  
To another, whose earnestness exceeded his knowledge, and was still railing against the Papists, he gave this advice, Pray Sir forbear, till you ha●… studied the Points better; for the wise Italians have th●… Proverb; He that understands amiss, concludes worse▪ And take heed of thinking, The farther you go from the Church of Rome, the nearer you are to God.  
And to another that spoke indiscreet, and bitter words against Arminius, I heard him reply to this purpose:  
In my travel towards Venice, as I passed through Germany, I rested almost a year at Leyden, where I entered into an acquaintance with Arminius (than the Professor of Divinity in that University) a man much talked of in this Age, which is made up of opposition and controversy: Andindeed, if I mistake not Arminius in his expressions (as so weak a brain as mine is may easily do) than I know I differ from him in some points; yet, I profess my judgement of him to be, that he was a ●…an of most rare Learning, and I knew him to be of a most strict ●…fe, and of a most meek spirit. And that he was so mild, appears by his Proposals to our Master Perkins of Cambridge, from whose Book, of the Order and Causes of Salvation (which was first writ in Latin) Arminius took the occasion of writing some Queries to him concerning the consequents of his Doctrine; intending them ('tis said) to come privately to Mr. Perkins own hands, and to receive from him, a like private, and a like loving Answer: But, Mr. Perkins died before those Queries came to him; and 'tis thought Arminius meant them to die with him; for though he lived long after, I have heard he forbore to publish them, (but ●…nce his death, his Sons did not:) And 〈◊〉 pity, if God had been so pleased, that Mr. Perkins did not live to see, consider, and answer those proposals himself; for he was also of a most meek spirit, and of great and sanctified Learning: And though since their deaths, many of ●…igh parts and pi●…ty have undertaken to clear the controversy, yet, for the most part, they have rather satisfied themselves, than convinced the dissenting party. And doubtless, many middle-witted men (which yet may mean well) many Scholars that are not in the bigbest Form for Learning (which yet may preach we●…) men that are but Preachers, and shall never know, till they come to Heaven, where the Que●…tions stick betwixt Arminius and the Church of England, (if there be any) will yet in this world be tampering with, and thereby perplexing the controversy, and do therefore justly fall under the reproof of St. Judas, for being busybodies, and for meddling with things they understand not.  
And here it offers itself (I think not unfitly) to tell the Reader, that a friend of Sir Henry wotton's, being designed for the employment of an Ambassador, came to Eton, and requested from him some experimental Rules for his prudent and safe carriage in his Negotiations; to whom he smilingly gave this for an infallible Aphoris●…; That, to be in safety himself, and serviceable to his country, he should always, and upon all occasions speak the truth (it seems a State-Paradox) for, says Sir Henry Wotton, you shall never be believed; and by this means, your truth will secure yourself, if you shall ever ●…e called to any account; and 'twill also put your Adversaries (who will still hunt counter) to a loss in all their disquisitions, and undertake.  
Many more of this nature might be observed, but they must be laid aside; for I shall here make a little ●…op, and invite the Reader to look back 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 shall say 〈◊〉 little of Sir Alber●… 〈◊〉 and Mr. William Bedel, whom I formerly mentioned.  
I have t●…ld you that are ●…y Reader; that 〈◊〉 Sir H●…y Wo●…s 〈◊〉 going Ambassador into Italy, his Cousin, Sir Albert Morto●…, went his Secretary: and am next to tell you, that Sir Albertus died, Secretary of State to our late King; but, cannot, am not able to express the sorrow that possessed Sir Henry W●…tton at his first hearing the news that Sir Albertus was by death lost to him and this world; and yet, the Reader may partly guests by these following expressions: The first in a Letter to his Nicholas Pey, of which this that followeth is a part.— And My dear Nick, When I had been here almost a fortnight, in the midst of my great content●…nt, I received notice of Sir Albertus Morton 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 out of this World, who was dearer to me, than mine own being in it▪ what a wound it is to my heart▪ you that know him, and know me, will easily believe●… but, ●…our Creators Will must be done, and unrepini●…gly r●…ived by his own Creatures, who is the Lord of all Nature, and of all Fortune, when he taketh to himself now one, and then ●…ther, till that expected day, wherein it shall please him to dissolve the whole, and wrap up even the Heaven itself 〈◊〉 Scr●…le of Parchment: This is the last Philosophy that we must study upon Earth; let us therefore that yet remain here, as our days and friends waste, reinforce our love to each other; which of all virtues, both spiritual and moral, hath the highest privilege, because death itself cannot end it. And my good Nick, etc.  
This is a part of his sorrow thus expressed to his Nick P●…y, the other part is in this following elegy, of which the Reader may safely conclude, 'twas to●… hearty to be dissembled.  

Tears wept at the Grave of Sir Albertus Morton,  by Henry Wotton. 

SIlence in truth would speak my sorrow best,  
For deepest wounds can least their feelings tell;  
Yet let me borrow from mine own unrest,  
A time to bid him whom I loved, farewell.   

Oh, my unhappy lines! you that before  
Have served my youth to vent some wanton cries,  
And now congealed with grief, can scarce implore  
Strength to accent, Here my Albetus lies.   

This is that Sable Stone, this is the Cave  
And womb of Earth, that doth his corpse embrace;  
While others sing his praise, let me engrave  
Th●…se bl●…ding numbers to adorn the place.   

Here will I paint the Characters of Woe;  
Here will I pay my Tribute to the Dead;  
And here my faithful Tears in showers shall flow  
To humanize the Flints on which I tread.   

Wh●…re though I mourn my matchless loss alone,  
And none between my weakness judge and me;  
Yet even these pensive Walls allow my moan,  
Whose d●…leful echoes to my plaints agree.   

But is he gone? and live I rhyming here,  
As if some Muse would listen to my lay?  
When all distuned sit waiting for their dear,  
And bathe the Banks where he was wont to play.   

〈◊〉 〈◊〉 in 〈◊〉 l●…ss Bliss with happy Souls.  
Discharged from Natures and from Fortunes Trust;  
Whilst on th●… fluid Globe my Hour glass rowls,  
And runs the ●…est of my remaining dust.  
H. W.    
This concerning his Sir Albertus Morton.  
And for what I shall say concerning Mr. William Bedel, I must prepare the Reader, by telling him, That when King James sent Sir Henry Wotton Ambassador to the State of Veni●…, he sent also an Ambassador to the King of France, and another to the King of Spain: with the Ambassador of France went joseph Hall, (late Bishop of Norwich) whose many and useful Works speak his great Merit: with the Ambassador of Spain went ja. Wadsworth; and with Sir Henry Wotton went William Bod●…l.  
These three Chaplains to these three ambassadors, were all bred in one University, all of one 
* Emanuel college in Cambridge.  college, all beneficed in one diocese, and all most dear and entire Friends: But in Spain Mr. Wadsworth met with temptations, or reasons, such as were so powerful, as to persuade him (who of the three, was formerly observed to be the most averse to that Religion that calls itself Catholic) to disclaim himself a Member of the Church of England, and declare himself for the Church of Rome; discharging himself of his attendance on the Ambassador, and betaking himself to a Monasterial life; in which he lived very regularly, and so died.  
When Dr. Hall (the late Bishop of Norwich) came into England, he wrote to Mr. Wadsworth, ('tis the first Epistle in his Printed decades) to persuade his return, or to show the reason of his apostasy: the Letter seemed to have in it many sweet expressions of love; and yet there was in it some expression that was so unpleasant to Mr. Wadsworth, that he chose rather to acquaint his old Friend Mr. Bedel with his motives; by which means there passed betwixt Mr. Bedil and Mr. Wadsworth divers Letters, which be extant in Print, and did well deserve it; for in them there seems to be a controversy, not of Religion only, but who should answer each other with most love and meekness: which I mention the rather, because it too seldom falls out to be so in a Book-War.  
There is yet a little more to be said of Mr. Bedel, for the greatest part of which, the Reader is referred to this following Letter of Sir Henry wotton's, writ to our late King Charles the first.  
May it please Your most Gracious Majesty,  
HAving been informed that certain persons have, by the good wishes of the Archbishop of Armagh, been directed hither, with a most humble Petition unto Your Majesty, that You will be pleased to make Mr. William Bedel (now resident upon a small Benefice in Suffolk) Governor of Your college at Dublin, for the good of that Society; and myself being required to render unto Your Majesty some testimony of the said William Bedel, who was long my Chaplain at Venice, in the time of my first employment there; I am bound in all Conscience and Truth (so far as Your Majesty will vouchsafe to accept my poor judgement) to affirm of him, That I think hardly a fit man for that Charge, could have been propounded unto Your Majesty in Your whole Kingdom, for singular Erudition and Piety, Conformity to the Rites of the Church, and Zeal to advance the Cause of God; wherein his Travels abroad were not obscure, in the time of the Excommunication of the Venetians.  
For it may please Your Majesty to know, that this is the man whom Padre Paulo took I may say, into his very soul, with whom he did communicate the inwardest thoughts of his heart, from whom he professed to have received more knowledge in all Divinity, both Scholastical and Positive, than from any that he had ever practised in his days; of which, all the passages were well known to the King Your Father, of most blessed memory. And so with Your majesty's good favour, I will end this needless Office; for the general Fame of his Learning, his Life, and Christian temper, and those Religious Labours which himself hath dedicated to Your Majesty, do better describe him then I am able.  
Your majesty's Most humble and faithful Servant, H. WOTTON.  
TO this Letter, I shall add this; That he was (to the great joy of Sir Henry Wotton) made Governor of the said college; and that 
* August, 1627.  after a fair discharge of his duty and trust there, he was thence removed to be Bishop of Kilmore. 
* Sept. 3. 1629.  In both which places, his life was so holy, as seemed to equal the primitive Christians; for as they, so he kept all the Ember-weeks, observed (besides his private devotions) the Canonical hours of Prayer very strictly, and so he did all the Feasts, and Fast days of his Mother, the Church of England; to which I may add, that his Patience and Charity were both such, as shown his affections were set upon things that are above; for indeed his whole life brought forth the fruits of the Spirit; there being in him such a remarkable meekness, that as St. Paul advised his Timothy in the Election of a Bishop, 
* 1 Tim. 3. 7.  That he have a good report of those that be without; so had he, for those that were without, even those that in point of Religion, whereof the Roman persuasion (of which there were very many in his diocese) did yet (such is the power of visible Piety) ever look upon him with respect and reverence; and, testified it, by a concealing, and safe protecting him from death in the late horrid Rebellion in Ireland, when the fury of the wild Irish knew no distinction of persons; and yet, there, and then, he was protected and cherished by those of a contrary persuasion; and there, and then he died, not by violence or misusage, but by grief in a quiet Prison●… (1629.) And, with him was lost many of his learned Writings, which were thought worthy of preservation; and amongst the rest 〈◊〉 was lost the Bible, which by many years' labour, and conference, and study, he had translated into the Irish Tongue, with an intent to have printed it for public use.  
More might be said of Mr. Bedel, who (I told the Reader) was Sir Henry wotton's first Chaplain; and much of his second Chaplain, Isaac Bargrave, Doctor in Divinity, and the late learned and hospitable Dean of Canterbury; as also of the Meri●… of many others▪ that had the happiness to attend Sir Henry in his foreign employments: But, the Reader may think that in this digression, I have already carried him too far from Eton college, and therefore I shall lead him back as gently, and as orderly as I may to that place, for a further conference concerning Sir Henry Wotton.  
Sir Henry Wotton had proposed to himself; before he entered into his Collegiate life, to write the life of Martin Luther; and in it, the History of the Reformation, as it was carried on in Germany: For the doing of which, he had many advantages by his several Embassies into those pa●…ts, and his interest in the several Princes of the Empire; by whose means he had access to the Records of all the Ha●… To●…s, and the knowledge of many secret passages that ●…ll not under common view●… and in these he had made a happy progress, as it well known to his worthy friend Dr. D●…a, the ●…te Reverend Bishop of Sali●…bury, but in the midst of this design, His late Majesty King Charles the first; that knew the value of Sir Henry wotton's 〈◊〉 did by a persuasive loving violence (to which may be added a promise of 500 l. a year) force him to lay Luther aside, and betake himself to write the History of England; in which he proceeded to write some short Characters of a few Kings, as a foundation upon which he meant to build; but, for the present meant to be more large in the story of Henry the sixth, the Founder of that college, in which he then enjoyed all the worldly happiness of his present being; but Sir Henry died in the midst of this undertaking, and the footsteps of his labours are not recoverable by a more than common diligence.  
This is some account both of his inclination, and the employment both of his time in the college, where he seemed to have his Youth renewed by a continual conversation with that Learned Society, and a daily recourse of other Friend of choicest breeding and parts, by which, that great blessing of a cheerful heart was still maintained; he being always free, even to the last of his day, from that peevishness which usually attends Age.  
And yet his mirth was sometimes damped by the remembrance of divers old Debts, p●…ly contracted in his foreign employments, for which his ju●… Arrears due from the King, would have made satisfaction; but, being still delayed with Co●…t-promises, and finding some decays of health, he did about two years before his death, out of a Christian desire, that none should be a lose by it, make his last Will; concerning which, a doubt till remains, whether it discovered more h●…y wit, or conscionable policy: But there is no doubt, but that his chief design was a Christian endeavour that his Debts might be satisfied.  
And that it may remain as such a Testimony, and a Legacy to those that loved him, I shall here impart it to the Reader, as it was found writ with his own hand.  
IN the name of God Almighty and All-meroif●…l, I Henry Wotton, Provost of his majesty's college by Eton, being mindful of mine own mortality, which the sin of our first Parents did bring upon all flesh, Do by this last Will and Testament, thus dispose of myself, and the poor things I shall leave in this World. My Soul, I bequeath to the Immortal God my Maker, Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, my blessed Redeemer, and Mediator, through his all-sole sufficient satisfaction for the sins of the whole World, and efficient for his Elect, in the number of whom, I am one by his mere grace, and thereof in oft unremovably aff●…d by his holy Spirit, the true 〈◊〉 Comforter. My body I bequeath to the Earth, if I shall end my transitory days at, or near Eton, to be ●…ed in the chapel of the said college, as the Fellows shall dispose thereof, with whom I have lived (my God knows) in all loving affection; or If I shall die near Bocton Malherb, in the County of Kent, than I wish to be laid in that Parish Church, as near as may be to the Sepulchre of my good Father, expecting a joyful Resurrection with him in the day of Christ.  
After this account of his Faith, and this Surrender of his Soul to that God that inspired it, and this direction for the disposal of his body, he proceeded to appoint that his Executors should lay over his grave a Marble stone, plain, and not costly●… And considering that time moulders even 〈◊〉 to dust; (for 
* Juven.  Monuments themselves must die.) Therefore did he (waving the common way) think fit rather to preserve his name (to which the Son of 〈◊〉 adviseth all men) by an useful Apothegm, then by a large enumeration of his descent or merits, (of boath which he might justly have boasted:) but, he was content to forget them, and did choose only this prudent, pious, Sentence, to discover his Disposition, and preserve his Memory.  
'Twas directed by him, to be thus inscribed: Hic jacet hujus Sententia primus Author. DISPUTANDI PRURITUS, ECCLESIARUM SCABIES. Nomen aliàs quaere.  
Which may be Englished thus,  
Here lies the first Author of this Sentence. THE ITCH OF DISPUTATION, WILL PROVE THE SCAB OF THE CHURCH. Inquire his name elsewhere.  
And if any shall object, as I think some have, That Sir Henry Wotton was not the first Author of this Sentence; but, that this, or a Sentence like it, was long before his time; To him I answer, that Solomon says, Nothing can be spoken; that hath not been spoken; for there is no new thing under the Sun. But grant, that in his various reading, he had met with this, or a like Sentence; yet reason mixed with Charity should persuade all Readers to believe, That Sir Henry Wotton's mind was then so fixed on that part of the Communion of Saints which is above, that an holy Lethorgy did surprise his Memory. For doubtless, if he had not believed himself to be the first Author of what he said, he was too prudent first to own, and then expose it to the public view, and censure of every critic. And questionless, 'twill be charity in all Readers, to think his mind was then so fixed on Heaven, that a holy zeal did transport him: and that in this Sacred ecstasy, his thoughts were then only of the Church Triumphant, (into which he daily expected his admission). And that Almighty God was then pleased to make him a Prophet, to tell the Church Militant, and particularly that part of it in this Nation where the weeds of controversy grow to be daily both more numerous, and more destructive to humble Piety: and where men have Consciences that boggle at Ceremonies, and yet scruple not to speak and act such sins as the ancient humble Christians believed to be a sin to think: and whereas our Reverend Hooker says, former Simplicity, and softness of Spirit, is not now to be found, because Zeal ha●… drowned Charity, and Skill Meekness: It will be good to think that these sad changes have proved this Epitaph to be a useful Caution unto us of thi●… Nation; and the sad effects thereof in Germa●… have proved it to be a mournful Truth.  
This by way of Observation concerning h●… Epitaph: The rest of his Will follows in his ow●… words.  
Further, I the said Henry Wotton, do constitut●… and ordain to be joint Executors of this my last Will 〈◊〉 Testament, my two Grand-Nephews, Albert Morton second son to Sir Robert Morton Knight, late deceased. and Thomas Bargrave, eldest son to Dr. Bargrave, Dean of Canterbury, Husband to my Rig●… virtuous and only niece. And I do pray the foresaid Dr. Bargrave, and Mr. Nicholas Pey, my most faith●… and chosen friends, together with Mr. John Harriso●… one of the Fellows of Eton college, best acquaint●… with my Books and Pictures, and other Utenfils, to 〈◊〉 Supervisors of this my last Will and Testament. A●… I do pray the foresaid Dr. Bargrave, and Mr. Nichol●… Pey, to be Solicitors for such Arrearages as shall app●… due unto me from his majesty's Exchequer at the ti●… of mydeath; and to assist my forenamed Executors 〈◊〉 some reasonable and conscientious satisfaction of my Cr●… ditors, and discharge of my Legacies now specified; 〈◊〉 that shall be hereafter added unto this my Testament, 〈◊〉 any Codicil or Schedule, or left in the hands, or in 〈◊〉 Memorial with the aforesaid Mr. John Harrison. A●… first, To my most dear sovereign and Master of inco●… parable Goodness, (in whose gracious opinion, I h●… ever had some portion, as far as the interest of a p●… honest man) I leave four Pictures at large of those Dukes of Venice, in whose time I was there employed, with their Names written on the backside, which hang in my great ordinary Dining-room, done after the Life by Edoardo Fialetto. Likewise a Table of the Venetian college, where Ambassadors had their Audience, hanging over the Mantle of the Chimney in the said Room, done by the same hand, which containeth a draught in lit●…le, well resembling the famous D. Leonardo Donato, in a time which needed a wise and constant man. It ' The Picture of a Duke of Venice hanging over against the door, done either by Titiano, or some other principal hand long before my time. Most humbly beseeching his Majesty, that the said Pieces may remain in some corner of any of his Houses, for a poor Memorial of his most humble vassal.  
It ' I leave his said Majesty all the Papers and Negotiations of Sir Nich. Throgmorton Knight, during his famous employment under Queen Elizabeth, in Scotland and in France, which contain divers secrets of State, that perchance his Majesty will think fit to be pre●…rved in his Paper-Office, after they have been perused ●…d sorted by Mr. Secretary Windebanck, with whom I ●…ive heretofore, as I remember, conferred about them. They were committed to my disposal by Sir Arthur ●…hrogmorton his Son, to whose worthy memory I can●…t better discharge my faith, then by assigning them to ●…e highest place of trust. It ' I leave to our most Gracious 〈◊〉 virtuous Queen Mary, Dioscorides, with the ●…nts naturally coloured, and the Text translated by ●…tthiolo, in the best Language of Tuscany, whence 〈◊〉 said Majesty is lineally desconded, for a poor token of 〈◊〉 thankful devotion, for the honour she was once pleas●… do my private study with her presence. I leave to the ●…t hopeful Prince, the Picture of the elected and crowned Queen of Bohemia, his Aunt, of clear and resplen▪ dent virtues through the clouds of her Fortune. To 〈◊〉 Lords Grace of Canterbury now being, I leave my Picture of Divine Love, rarely copied from one in the King●… Galleries, of my presentation to his Majesty: beseechi●… him to receive it as a pledge of my humble reverence to 〈◊〉 great wisdom. And to the most worthy Lord Bishop of London, Lord High Treasurer of England, 〈◊〉 true admiration of his Christian simplicity, and conte●… of earthly pomp; I leave a Picture of Heraclitus bewai●…ing, and Democritus laughing at the world: M●… humbly beseeching the said Lord Archbishop his Grac●… and the Lord Bishop of London, of both whose favours have tasted in my life time, to intercede with our most gr●… cious sovereign after my death, in the bowels of Jes●… Christ, That out of compassionate memory of my lo●… Services (wherein I more studied the public Honou●… then mine own Utility) some Order may be taken out 〈◊〉 my Arrears due in the Exchequer, for such satisfaction 〈◊〉 my Creditors, as those whom I have Ordained Supervis●… of this my last Will and Testament shall present unto th●… Lordships, without their farther trouble: Hoping lik●… wise in his majesty's most indubitable Goodness, that will keep me from all prejudice, which I may other●… suffer by any defect of formality in the Demand of my s●… Arrears. To— for a poor addition to his Cabi●… I leave as Emblems of his attractive virtues, and O●… ging Nobleness, my great Loadstone; and a piece Amber of both kinds naturally united, and only differi●… in degree of Concoction, which is thought somewhat ra●… Item, A piece of crystal Sexangular, (as they gr●… all) grasping divers several things within it, which bought among the Rhaetian Alps, in the very place where grew: recommending most humbly unto his Lordship, 〈◊〉 reputation of my poor Name in the point of my debts, 〈◊〉 have done to the forenamed Spiritual Lords; and am hearty sorry, that I have no better token of my humble thankfulness to his honoured Person. It ' I leave to Sir Francis Windebank, one of his majesty's principal Secretaries of State, (whom I found my great friend in ●…oint of Necessity) the four Seasons of old Bassano, to ●…ang near the Eye in his Parlour, (being in little form) which I bought at Venice, where I first entered into his most worthy Acquaintance.  
To the abovenamed Dr. Bargrave Dean of Canterbury, I leave all my Italian Books not disposed in this Will. I leave to him likewise my Viol de Gamba, which hath been twice with me in Italy, in which country I first contracted with him an unremovable Affection. To my other Supervisor Mr. Nicholas Pey, I leave ●…y Chest, or Cabinet of Instruments and Engines of all kinds of uses: in 
* In it were Italian locks, picklocks, screws to force open doors, and many things of worth and rarity, that he had gathered in his foreign Travel.  the lower-box whereof, are some sit to be bequeathed to none but so entire an honest man as he is. I leave him ●…ikewise forty pound for his pains in te solicitation of my Arrears, and am sorry that my ragged Estate can reach no further to one ●…hat hath taken such care for me in ●…he same kind, during all my for●…eign employments. To the Li●…rary at Eton College I leave all my Manuscripts not ●…efore disposed, and to each of the Fellows a plain Ring of Gold, enamelled black; all save the verge, with this Motto within, Amor unit omnia.  
This is my last will and Testament, save what ●…all be added by a Schedule thereunto annexed. Written 〈◊〉 the first of October, in the present year of our Redemption 1637. And subscribed by myself, with the Testimony of these Witnesses.  


HENRY Wotton.  
Nich. Oudert.  
Geo. Lash:    
ANd now, because the mind of man is best satisfied by the knowledge of Events, I think 〈◊〉 to declare, that every one that was named in his will, did gladly receive their Legacies; by which, and his most just and passionate desires for the payment of his debts, they joined in assisting the Overseers of his will; and by their joint endeavours to the King (than whom none was more willing) conscionable satisfaction was given for his just debts.  
The next thing wherewith I shall acquaint the Reader, is, That he went usually once a year, i●… not oftener, to the beloved boctonhall, where he would say, he found a cure for all cares, by the cheerful company, which he called the living furniture 〈◊〉 that place: and, a restoration of his strength, by 〈◊〉 Connaturalness of that, which he called his genial air.  
He yearly went also to Oxford. But the Summer before his death he changed that for a journey to Winchester-Colledge; to which School he 〈◊〉 first removed from Bocton. And as he return●… from Winchester, towards Eton college, said 〈◊〉 a friend, his Companion in that Journey; H●… useful was that advice of a Holy Monk, who persw●… his friend to perform his Customary devotions in 〈◊〉 constant place; because in that place, we usually meet with those very thoughts which possessed ●…s a●… our last being there; And I find it thus far experimentally true; that, at my now being in that School, and seeing that very place where I sat when I was a Boy, occasioned me to remember those very thoughts of my youth which then possessed me; sweet thoughts indeed, that promised my growing years numerous pleasures, without mixtures of cares; and those to be enjoyed, when time (which I therefore thought slow paced) had changed my youth into manhood: But, age and experience have taught me, that those were but empty hopes: For I have always found it true, as my Saviour did foretell, Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof. Nevertheless, I saw there a succession of boys using the same recreations, and, questionless possessed with the same thoughts that then possessed me. Thus, one generation succeeds another, both in their lives, recreations, hopes, fears, and deaths.  
After his return from Winchester to Eton (which was about five months before his death) he became much more retired, and contemplative; in which time he was often visited by Mr. John Hales, (learned Mr. John Hales) than a Fellow of that college, to whom upon an occasion he spoke to this purpose— I have in my passage to my grave met with most of those Joys of which a discursive soul is capable: and, being entertained with more inferior pleasures than the sons of men are usually made partakers of: nevertheless, in this voyage I have not always floated on the calm Sea of Content; but, have often met with cross winds and storms, and, with many troubles of mind and temptations to evil. And yet, though I have been and am a man compassed about with humane frailties, Almighty God hath by his grace prevented me from making shipwreck of faith and a good Conscience; the thought of which is now the joy of my heart, and, I most humbly praise him for it; And, I humbly acknowledge that it was not myself but he that hath kept me to this great age, and, let him take the glory of his great mercy.— And, my dear Friend, I now see that I draw near my harbour of death: that harbour, that will secure me from all the future storms and waves of this restless world; and, I praise God I am willing to leave it, and expect a better; that world, wherein dwelleth Righteousness.— These, and the like expressions were then uttered by him at the beginning of a Feavourish distemper, at which time he was also troubled with an Asthma, or short spitting; but after less than twenty fits, by the help of familiar physic and a spare Diet, this fever abated, yet so as to leave him much weaker than it found him: and, his Asthma seemed also to be overcome in a good degree by his forbearing Tobacco, which, as many thoughtful men do, he also had taken somewhat immoderately.— This was his then present condition; and, thus he continued till about the end of October 1639. which was about a month before his death, at which time, he again fell into a fever, which, though he seemed to recover, yet these still left him so weak, that they and those other common infirmities that accompany age, and were want to visit him like civil friends, and, after some short time to leave him; came now, both oftener and with more violence, and at last took up their constant habitation with him, still weakening his Body and abating his cheerfulness: of both which he grew more sensible, and did the oftener retire into his Study, and there made many Papers that had passed his Pen both in the days of his youth, and in the busy part of his life, useless, by a fire made there to that purpose.— These and several unusual expressions to his Servants and Friends, seemed to foretell that the day of his death drew near: for which, he seemed to those many friends that observed him, to be well prepared, and to be both patiented, and free from all fear, as several of his Letters writ on this his last sick bed may testify: and thus he continued till about the beginning of December following, at which time he was seized more violently with a Quotidian fever, in the tenth fit of which fever, his better part, that part of Sir Henry Wotton which could not die, put off mortality with as much content and cheerfulness as humane frailty is capable of; being then in great tranquillity of mind, and in perfect peace with God and man.  
And thus the Circle of Sir Henry Wotton's Life— (that Circle which began at Bocton, and in the Circumference thereof, did first touch at Winchester-School, then at Oxford, and after upon so many remarkable parts and passages in Christendom;) That Circle of his Life, was by Death thus closed up and completed, in the seventy and second year of his Age, at Eton college, where, according to his Will, he now lies buried, with his Motto on a plain Grave-stone over him; dying, worthy of his Name and Family, worthy of the love and favour of so many Princes, and Persons of eminent wisdom and Learning, worthy of the trust committed unto him, for the Service of his Prince and country.  
And all Readers are requested to believe, that he was worthy of a more worthy Pen, to have preserved his Memory, and commended his Merits to the imitation of Posterity.  
Iz. wa.   

AN elegy ON Sir HENRY WOTTON,  WRIT By Mr. ABRAM COWLEY. 

WHat shall we say, since silent now is he,  
Who when he spoke all things would silent be.  
Who had so many Languages in store,  
That only fame shall speak of him in more.  
Whom England now no more returned must see:  
He's gone to Heaven, on his fourth embassy.  
On Earth he travelled often, not to say  
he'd been abroad to pass lose time away:  
For, in what ever Land he chanced to come,  
He read the men and manners: bringing home  
Their Wisdom, Learning, and their Piety,  
As if he went to Conquer, not to see.  
So well he understood the most and best  
Of Tongues, that Babel sent into the West:  
Spoke them so truly, that he had (you'd swear)  
Not only lived, but, been born every where.  
Justly each nation's speech to him was known:  
Who, for the world was made, not us alone.  
Nor, ought the Language of that man be less  
Who in his breast had all things to express:  
We say that Learning's endless, and blame Fate  
For not allowing life a longer date:  
He did the utmost bounds of Knowledge find;  
And found them not so large as was his mind:  
But, like the brave Pellean youth did moon:  
Because that Art had no more world's then one.  
And, when he saw that he through all had passed,  
He died, lest he should Idle grow at last.   
A. Cowley.   

MARCO VELSERO Duumviro Augustae Vindelicae. HENRICUS WOTTONIUS S. O.  
PRivatim antehàc ad te aliquoties scripsi; Nunc causae est ut publicè quoque id faciam: Haec, qualis sit, quaeso audias. Prostabat Francofurti superioribus Nundinis opus quoddam, si molem spectes (quod ferè fit) non sanè de infimis, cum hac inscriptione; Gasparis Scioppii Ecclesiasticus, authoritati Serenissimi Domini Jacobi Regis oppositus. In quo cum argumento magnam partem novo, tum exemplo nemini adhuc usitato, & caetera quae eandem modestiam sapiunt.  
Hujus operis consutor cùm farraginem rerum undecunque emendicaret, videtur nescio quo modo incidere in jocosam Legati definitionem, quam jam ante octennium ●…stàc transiens apud amicum virum Christophorum Fleckamerum fortè posueram in Albo Amicorum more Teutonico, his ipsis verbis; Legatus est vir bonus, peregrè missus ad mentiendum Reipublicae caussâ. Definitio adeò fortasse catholica, ut complecti possit etiam Legatos à latere. Quid hîc, obsecro, facit Scioppius? Reserat familiaritatis scrinia, resuscitat, post tot annos, obsoletos sales, jam ipsa vetustate ab inquietudine redemptos; ornat me, pro humanitate suâ, clementissimâ interpretatione, tanquam id non solùm seriò, sed & jactanter scripsissem; Neque hoc contentus, conatur quoque intemeratum Optimi Regis nomen per jocos meos in invidiam trahere, quasi Domini praestare tenerentur etiam servorum lusus: Postremò ad honestandam petulantiam suam locum unum atque alterum ex Esaia & Solomone lepidè intermiscet, ut nihil est tutum à profanis ingeniis. Haec in me fateor cecidisse miro seculo. Quis enim put ârat nasciturum hominem impatientem brevis joci super Legatorum licentiâ qui tantùm politica agitant, ubi indies videmus ipsam Sacrosanctae Theologiae severitatem à quibusdam Aequivocationum, mentalium reservationum, & piarum fraudum Magistris tam foedè constupratam? neque hoc obiter, aut jocosè, aut in Albis Amicorum, ubi vana veraque pari securitate tam scribi quàm depingi solent: sed exprofesso, & de suggestu, & cum privilegio & authoritate Superiorum. Verum Scioppius est qui surrexit. Et quid expectet me responsurum? Sanè memini familiam meam cum Venetiis essem Anathemate percussam in Paraenesi Baronianâ. Memini tum etiam à Gomitulo Jesuit â Perusino, & ab Antonio Possevino ejusdem farinae quaedam in me jacta: Quae quanquam ab exulceratis animis effluerent utcunque tacitus ferebam: Quippe hi erant viri non indignae existimationis saltem apud suos; & ipsorum authorum qualiscunque claritudo leniebat injuriam: Sed cùm famelicus transfuga & Romanae curiae lutulentus circulator scriptitat solùm ut prandere possit; Cùm semicoctus Grammaticaster, & nullâ ante hâc solidiore disciplinâ tinctus, Ecclesiastica tractat; Cùm vespillonis, & castrensis Scorti 
* Lege vulgata de vita & parentibus Scioppii. p. 127.  spuma irreverenter in Regem debacchatur, cujus eximia in divinis humanisque sapientia & constans justi tenor cuicunque vel privato venerationem conciliare: Cùm homo Germanus exuta patriâ probitate & modestiá, nihil aliud per totum opus quàm eversionem Regum Regnorumque spirat; Cùm denique idem as quod Jesuiticam societatem 
* Ibidem p. 132.  Parricidalem Cohortem vocaverat, nunc postquam culinas Romae olere coepit, candem Praetoriam 
* Ecclesiasticus Scioppii p. 371.  Castrorum Dei cohortem vocat, Quis iniquae Tam patiens urbis (quae istud animal pabulatur) tam ferreus, ut teneat se? Igitur, semotâ omni festivitate, te seriò, te ex animo (Ornatissime Velsere) in hac Epistolâ convenio: orans, obtest ánsque per commune humanitatis vinculum, per ejusdem Baptismi, ejusdem symboli conscientiam, ipse velis (pro authoritate quâ te scio valere apud tuos) istos Scioppios compescere; ut ejectis è coetu Christiano similibus hominum propadiis, Caussarúmque sane vel optimarum dehonestamentis, sua bonis viris existimatio, sua Principibus dignitas maneat: Non vexentur Nundinae prostitutis Parasitorum calamis; Non typi (nobile Germanorum inventum) adeò miserè torqueantur; sequatur denique quantum infirmit as nostra ferat, illa Regnorum Ecclesiarúmque requies quam nobis commendavit supremus pacis praeceptor simul & exemplum. Quòd si impudentem illam dicacitatem (quam ab infami ortu 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 traxit) non deponere poterit sine magno ventriculi incommodo; saltem dignus est certe cui curtetur esca ob execrandam argutiam quâ sibi videtur vel ipsis Tridentinis Patribus oculatior. Illi 
* 8. April. Sess. 4.  Traditiones & Scripturam Sacram paritaniùmpietatis affectu & reverentiâ suscipiendas, primi omnium (quod ego sciam) decrevere. At iste novus Ecclesiasticus non in Albo Amicorum, sed pulcherrimi syntagmatis sui, p. 485, majorem traditi quàm scripti verbi Divini authoritatem blasphemo & pudendo ore pronunciat. Possem sexcent as id genus Scioppietates proferre, sed hoc esset ruspari sterquilinium. Vale igitur (Vir nobilissime) atque iterum Salve. Londino Nonis Decembribus Julianis. Anno unici Mediatoris nostri 1612.   

TO MARCUS VELSERUS, One of the two governors of AUSBURG. HENRY WOTTON wishing health.  
SIR,  
I Have written to you heretofore sometimes in private, but have a concern upon me now to do it also in public, of which (with your permission) I desire thus to inform you.  
At the last Frankfurt Mart there was set to sale a certain Book of Bulk (which often gives the value) not inconsiderable. And it bore this Inscription: Jaspar Scioppius his Ecclesiasticus: opposed to the Authority of the most Serene Lord King James— wherein as with Arguments for the most part new, and in a way hitherto by no man traced— And so on with the like modesty.  
The Composer of this work, in his begging Scraps all about, I know not by what means, seems to have lighted on a merry definition of an Ambassador, which above eight years before passing by that way, I had chanced to set down at my Friend's Mr. Christopher Fleckamor, in his Album of Friends, after the Germane custom, (a white Paper-Book used by the Dutch for such kind of Mottos) which was worded thus: Legatus est vir bonus peregrè missus ad mentiendum Reipub. causâ. In English, being only this Jest; An Ambassador is an honest man sent to lie abroad for the Commonwealth.  
A Definition perhaps so Catholic, that it may comprehend even the Pope's Legates; Now, what, I pray, think you doth this Scioppius hereupon? Throws open the Cabinet of familiarity, after so many years, revives an obsolete conceit, privileged from disturbance even by its Antiquity, and according to his civility adorns me with a most gentle construction, as if I had written it not only in good earnest, but even with ostentation. Nor satisfied with this, he endeavours to draw a blemish from my merriment, upon the untainted reputation of the best of Kings; as if Masters were obliged to answer for their Servants triflings. Lastly, To varnish over his perverseness, he puts in a passage or two out of Esay and Solomon pleasantly, as nothing is secure from a profane wit.  
This I confess befell me in a wondrous age; for, who could have imagined so ill humoured a creature likely to be born, whom such a little fancy upon the Licence of Ambassadors, (who act only in politics) should so grievously offend; whereas we daily see the severity itself of holy Writ, so foully adulterated by some that are Masters of equivocations, pious frauds, and mental reservations? And this not by the by, nor in jest, or in the Album of Friends, where idle things and truths used to be set down with equal security, but on set purpose, and from the Pulpit, with privilege and Authority of Superiors? Yea but it is Scioppius that has risen up, and what answer from me doth he expect? I remember indeed that being at Venice, my Family was struck with an Anathema in Baronius his Paraenesis; I remember that then also some things of the like sort were cast at me by Gomitulus, a Jesuit of Perugia, and by Authony Possevin, which, although they flowed from galled spirits, yet however I bore in silence, for, these were men of no mean repute, at least at home, and, such eminency as they had, qualified the injury. But when a hungry Renegado, a dirty Sharker about the Romish Court, only scribbles that he may dine, and a raw Pedant, not at all versed in more solid Learning, falls to treating of Church-matters; when the spawn of a Sexton, and an Ammunition Trull, 
* See what is published of the Life and Parents of Scioppius, pag. 127.  rages with that irreverence against a King, whose eminent knowledge in things divine and humane, and constant evenness of Justice, would beget a veneration to any private person; when a Germane quitting the modesty and honesty of his country, breathes nothing throughout his whole Book but the subversion of Kings and kingdoms; when, finally, the same mouth which had called the Society of the Jesuits, a company of Parricides; and now having begun to smell the Roman kitchens, styles them the Praetorian Band of God's Militia: Quis iniquae tam patiens Urbis, quae istud Animal pabulatur, tàm ferreus & teneat se? who can endure so base a City (that seeds the Beast) or is so insensible as to contain himself?  
Wherefore (setting aside all lightness) I commune with you by this Letter seriously, and from my heart (most accomplished, Velserus) desiring and beseeching you by our common bon●… of Humanity, by our conscience in the sam●… Faith and Baptism, that (according to t●… power I know you have amidst your peopl●… you would quell these Scioppians, that such scandals of mankind, and shames even to the best Causes, being banished from Christian Society, good men may retain their esteem, and Princes their Dignity; that your Marts may not be pestered with the prostituted Pens of Parasites, nor the Press (the brave Invention of the Germans) be so miserably tormented; and lastly, that (as much as in our weakness lies,) the happy quiet of kingdoms and Churches may ensue, which the highest Teacher, and example of peace hath commended to us. But if he cannot leave off that impudent scurrility (which from his base extraction he has very suitably contracted 〈◊〉 without great inconvenience to his Belly, surely he deserves at least to have his Commons shortened, for that execrable subtlety, whereby he seems to himself quicker-sighted then the Council of Trent; for they, first of any (that I know of) decreed, that 
* April 8. Ses. 4.  Traditions and holy Scripture were with equal affection, only, of piety and reverence to be received: But this new ecclesiastic, not in the Album of Friends, but in the 485th, Page of his fine Syntagma, pronounces with a blasphemous and shameless mouth, that the Authority of Tradition is above the written. Word of God▪ I could produce six hundred such Scioppieties, but that were to rake a Dunghill. Wherefore farewell most Noble Sir, and again farewell.  
From London, Decemb. 2. after the Julian account, in the Year of our only mediator, 1612.   

TO THE Right Worthy Provost AND PROFESSOR REGIUS OF DIVINITY IN CAMBRIDGE.  
SIR,  
THough my feet cannot perform that Counsel which I remember from some Translation in Syracides, Teras limen sensati viri, yet I should at least have often visited you with my poor lines: But on the other side, while I durst not trust mine own conceit in the power of my present infirmity, and therefore have seldom written to any, I find myself in the mean time overcharged with d●…vers▪ Letters from you of singular kindness, and one of them accompanied with a dainty peaceful Piece, which truly I had not seen before, so as besides the weight of the Subject, it was welcome even for the grace of Newne●…: Yet let me tell you, I could not but somewhat wonder to find our spiritual Seneca (you know whom I mean) among these Reconcilers, having read a former Treatise of his (if my memory fail me not) of a contrary complexion. Howsoever, now let him have his due praise with the rest for showing his Christian wisdom and Charity; But I fear, as it was anciently said by a Roman General, that Bellum seize alit; so it will prove, though in somewhat a different fence, likewise as true of this Church-warfare, That the very pleasure of Contending will foment Contention till the end of all Flesh.  
But let me leave that Sacred business to our well-meaning Fathers.  
And now, Sir, having a fit Messenger, and not long after the time when Love-tokens use to pass between Friends, let me be bold to send you for a New years gift a certain Memorial, not altogether unworthy of some entertainment under your roof; namely, a true Picture of Padre Paolo the Servita, which was first taken by a Painter whom I sent unto him from my House then neighbouring his Monastery. I have newly added thereunto a Title of mine own Conception, Conci●… Tridentini Eviscerator; and had sent the Frame withal, if it were portable, which is but of plain deal, coloured Black like the Habit of his Order. You have a luminous Parlour, which I have good cause to remember, not only by delicate Fare and Freedom (the Prince of Dishes;) but above all, by your own Learned Discourse; for to dine with you, is to dine with many good Authors: In that Room I beseech you to allow it a favourable place for my sake. And that you may have somewhat to tell of him more than a bare Image, if any shall ask, as in the Table of Cebes, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; I am desirous to characterise a little unto you such part of his Nature, customs, and Abilities as I had occasion to know by sight or by enquiry. He was one of the humblest things that could be seen within the bounds of Humanity; the very Pattern of that Precept, Quanto doctior Tanto submissior. And enough alone to demonstrate, That Knowledge well digested non instat. Excellent in Positive, excellent in Scholastical and Polemical Divinity. A rare Mathematician, even in the most abstruse parts thereof, as in Algebra and the theoriques'; and yet withal so expert in the History of Plants, as if he had never perused any Book but Nature. Lastly, a great Canonist, which was the title of his ordinary service with the State: And certainly in the time of the Popes Interdict, they had their principal light from him. When he was either reading or writing alone, his manner was to sit fenced with a Castle of Paper about his Chair, and over head: for he was of our Lord of St. Albon's opinion, That all Air is praedatory; and especially hurtful when the spirits are most employed. You will find a Scar in his Face, that was from a Roman Assassinate, that would have killed him as he was turned to a brickwall near to his Covent: And if there were not a greater Providence about us, it might often have been easily done, especially upon such a weak and wearyish Body. He was of a quiet and settled Temper, which made him prompt in his Counsels and Answers; and the same in Consultation, which Themistocles was in Action, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as will appear unto you in a passage between him and the Prince of Conde●… The said Prince in a voluntary journey to Rome came by Venice, where to give some vent to his own humours, he would often divest himself of his Greatness, and after other less laudable Curiosities, not long before his departure, a desire too●… him to visit the Famous obscure Servita: To whose cloister coming twice, he was the first time denied to be within; at the second it was intimated, that by reason of his daily admission to their deliberation in the Palace, he could not receive the Visit of so illustrious a Personage without leave from the Senate, which he would seek to procure. This set a greater edge on the Prince, when he see he should confer with one participant of more than Monkish Speculations: so after leave gotten, he came the third time; and then beside●… other voluntary Discourse (which it were a Tyranny over you to repeat) he assailed him with a Question enough to have troubled any man but himself, and him too, if a precedent Accident had not cased him: The Question was 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 this; He desired to be told by him before his going, Who was the true unmasked Author of the late Tridentine History?  
You must know this▪ that but newly Advertisement was come from Rome, that the Archbishop of Spalleto being than re arrived from England, in an interview between him and the Cardinal Ludovisio, nephew to Gregory the XV. the said Cardinal after a complimental welcoming him into the 
Memorandum, That this Recantation was to my knowledge never Printed at Rome, or elsewhere, through more haste belike to his death, or otherwise upon further consideration, that things extorted with fear carry no credit, even by the Praetor's Edict.  Lap of the Church, told him by order from the Pope, that his Holiness would expect from him some Recantation in Print, as an Antidote against certain Books and Pamphlets which he had published whilst he stood in Revolt, Namely, his first Manifesto; Item, Two Sermons preached at the Italian Church in London: Again, a little Tract, entitled his Scogli. And lastly, his greater Volumes about Church Regiment, and Controversies. These were all named. For as touching the Tridentine History, His Holiness (says the Cardinal) will not press you to any 
Quod metus causa.  disavowment thereof, though you have an Epistle before the Original Edition, because we know well enough that friar Paolo is the Father of that Brat. Upon this last Piece of the aforesaid Advertisement, the good Father came fairly off; for on a sudden laying all together, that to disavow the Work was an untruth, to assume it a danger, and to say nothing an incivility; he took a middle evasion, telling the Prince, That he understood he was going to Rome, where he might learn at ease who was the Author of that Book, as they were freshly intelligenced from thence.  
Thus without any mercy of your Time, I have been led along from one thing to another, while I have taken pleasure to remember that Man whom God appointed and furnished for a proper Instrument to Anatomize that Pack of Reverend Cheaters, among whom (I speak of the greater part, exceptis sanioribus) Religion was shuffled like a pair of Cards, and the Dice so many years were set upon us. And so wishing you very hearty many good years, I will let you breathe till you have opened the enclosed, remaining  
From the Arms of your good Nurse, who fed you with her best Milk, Jan. 17. 1637 Your poor Friend to serve you, HENRY WOTTON.   

THE ELEMENTS OF ARCHITECTURE, Collected by HENRY WOTTON Kt, From the Best authors AND EXAMPLES.   

THE PREFACE.  
I Shall not need (like the most part of Writers) to celebrate the Subject which I deliver; In that point I am at ease. For Architecture can want no commendation, where there are noblemen, or Noble Minds; I will therefore spend this Preface, rather about those from whom I have gathered my knowledge: For I am but a gatherer and disposer of other men's stuff, at my best value.  
Our principal Master is Vitruvius, and so I shall often call him; who had this felicity, that he wrote when the Roman Empire was near the pitch: Or at least, when Augustus (who favoured his endeavours) had some meaning (if he were not mistaken) to bond the monarchy: This, I 
Tacit. lib. 1. Annal.  say, was his good hap; For in growing and enlarging times, Arts are commonly drowned in Action: But on the other side, it was in truth an unhappiness, to express himself so ill, especially writing (as he did) in a season of the ablest Pens; And his obscurity had this strange fortune, That though he were best practised, and best followed by his own countrymen; yet after the receiving and repolishing of good Literature (which the combustions and tumults of the middle-age had uncivilized) he was best, or at least, first understood by Strangers: For of all the Italians that took him in hand, those that were Grammarians seem to have wanted Mathematical knowledge; and the Mathematicians perhaps wanted Grammar: till both were sufficiently conjoined, in Leon-Batisti Alberti the Florentine, whom I repute the first learned Architect beyond the Alps: But he studied more indeed to make himself an Author, then to illustrate his Master: Therefore amongst his Commenters, I must (for my private conceit) yield the chief praise unto the French, in Philander; and to the high Germans in Gualterius Rivius: who, besides his Notes, hath likewise published the most elaborate Translation, that I think is extant in any Vulgar Speech of the World: though not without bewailing, now and then, some defect of Artificial terms in his own; as I must likewise: For if the Saxon (our Mother-tongue) did complain; as justly, I doubt, in this point may the Daughter: Languages, for the most part, in terms of Art and Erudition, retaining their Original poverty, and rather growing rich and abundant in complimental Phrases and such froth. Touching divers Modern men that have written out of mere practice, I shall give them their due upon occasion.  
And now, after this short Censure of others, I would fain satisfy an Objection or two, which seem to lie somewhat heavily upon myself: It will be said, That I handle an Art, no way suitable either to my employments, or to my Fortune. And so I shall stand charged, both with Intrusion, and with Impertinency.  
To the first I answer, That though by the ever-acknowledged goodness of my most dear and gracious Sovereign, and by his long indulgent tolerations of my defects, I have born abroad some part of his civil service; yet when I came home, and was again resolved into mine own simplicity, I found it fit for my Pen (at least in this first public adventure) to deal with these plain Compilements, and tractable Materials, then with the Laberynths and Mysteries of Courts and States: And less presumption for me, who have long contemplated a famous republic, to write now of Architecture, than it was anciently for 
* Aristot. 2. l. Polit. c. 6.  Hippodamus the Melesian, to write of republics, who was himself but an Architect.  
To the Second, I must shrink up my shoulders, as I have learned abroad, and confess indeed, that my fortune is very unable to exemplify and actuate my Speculations in this Art, which yet in truth, made me the rather even from my very disability, take encouragement to hope, that my present Labour would find the more favour in others, since it was undertaken for no man's sake less than mine own. And with that confidence, I fell into these thoughts; Of which, there were two ways to be delivered; The one Historical, by description of the principal Works, performed already in good part by Goirgio Vassari in the Lives of Architects. The other Logical, by casting the rules and cautions of this Art into some comportable Method, whereof I have made choice, not only as the shortest and most Elemental, but indeed as the soundest. For though in practical knowledges, every complete Example may bear the credit of a Rule; yet per adventure Rules should precede, that we may by them be made fit to judge of Examples: Therefore to the purpose; for I will preface no longer.   

OF THE ELEMENTS OF ARCHITECTURE. The First Part.  
IN Architecture, as in all other Operative Arts. the End must direct the Operation.  
The End is to build well.  
Well-building hath three Conditions, Commodity, Firmness, and Delight.  
A common Division among the Deliverers of this Art, though I know not how, somewhat misplaced by Vitruvius himself, lib. 1. cap. 3. whom I shall be willinger to follow as a Master of Proportion, then of Method.  
Now, For the attaining of these Intentions, we may consider the whole Subject under two general Heads:  
The Seat, and the Work.  
Therefore first touching Situation.  
The Precepts thereunto belonging, do either concern the Total Posture (as I may term it) or the Placing of the Parts; whereof the first sort, howsoever usually set down by Architects as a piece of their Profession, yet are in truth borrowed from other Learnings: there being between Arts and Sciences, as well as between Men, a kind of good fellowship, and communication of their Principles.  
For you shall find some of them to be merely Physical, touching the quality and temper of the air: which being a perpetual ambient and ingredient, and the defects thereof incorrigible in single Habitations (which I most intent) doth in those respects require the more exquisite caution: That it be not too gross, nor too penetrative; Not subject to any foggy noisomness, from Pens or Marshes near adjoining; nor to Mineral Exhalations from the Soil itself. Not indigested, for want of Sun: Not unexercised, for want of Wind: which were to live, as it were, in a Lake, or standing Pool of air, as Alberti the Florentine Architect doth ingeniously compare it.  
Some do rather seem a little Astrological, as when they warn us from places of malign Influence, where Earthquakes, Contagions, Prodigious births, or the like, are frequent without any evident cause, whereof the Consideration is peredventure not altogether vain: Some are plainly Oeconomical, as that the Seat be well watered, and well fuelled; that it be not of too steep and incommodious Access, to the trouble both of Friends and Family; that it lie not too far from some Navigable River, or Arm of the Sea, for more ease of provision, and such other Domestic notes.  
Some again may be said to be Optical: Such I mean as concern the Properties of a well chosen Prospect, which I will call the Royalty of Sight. For as there is a Lordship, as it were, of the Fee, wherein the Master doth much joy when he walketh about the Line of his own Possessions: So there is a Lordship likewise of the Eye, which being a Ranging, and Imperious, and (I might say) an Usurping Sense, can endure no narrow Circumscription; but must be fed both with extent and variety. Yet on the other side, I find vast and indifinite views which drown all apprehension of the uttermost Objects, condemned by good Authors, as if thereby some part of the pleasure, whereof we speak, did perish. Lastly, I remember a private Caution; which I know not well how to sort, unless I should call it Political: By no means, to build too near a great Neighbour; which were, in truth, to be as unfortunately seated on the Earth, as Mercury is in the Heavens, for the most part, ever in combustion or obscurity under brighter beams than his own.  
From these several Knowledges, as I have said, and perhaps from some other, do Architects derive their Doctrine about Election of Seats: wherein I have not been so severe as a 
* Joannes Heurnius Instit. medicine. lib. 7. cap. 2.  great scholar of our time, who precisely restraineth a perfect Situation, at least for the main point of health, Ad locum contra quem Sol radios suos fundit cum sub Ariete oritur: That is, in a word, he would have the first Salutation of the Spring. But such Notes as these, wheresoever we find them in grave or slight authors, are to my conceit rather Wishes than Precepts, and in that quality I will pass them over. Yet I must withal say, That in the seating of ourselves (which is a kind of Marriage to a Place.) Bvilder's should be as circumspect as Wooers, lest when all is done, that Doom befall us, which our Master doth lay upon Mytelene: A Town, in truth (saith he) finely built, but 
Opidum quidem aedificatum eleganter, sed imprudenter positum.  foolishly planted. And so much touching that which I termed the Total Posture.  
The next in Order is the placing of the Parts; About which (to leave as little as I may in my present labour, unto fancy, which is wild and irregular) I will propound a Rule of mine own Collection, upon which I fell in this manner. I had noted, that all Art was then in truest perfection, when it might be reduced to some natural Principle. For what are the most judicious Artisans, but the Mimiques of Nature? This led me to contemplate the fabric of our own bodies, wherein the High Architect of the World had displayed such skill, as did stupefy all humane Reason. There I found the Heart, as the Fountain of Life, placed about the Middle, for the more equal communication of the vital spirits. The Eyes seated aloft, that they might describe the greater Circle within their view. The Arms projected on each side, for ease of reaching. Briefly (not to lose ourselves in this speculation) it plainly appeareth, as a maxim drawn from the Divine Light, That the Place of every part is to be determined by the Use.  
So then from Natural Structure, to proceed to Artificial; and in the rudest things, to preserve some Image of the excellentest, Let all the principal Chambers of Delight, all Studies and Libraries, be toward the East: For the Morning is a Friend to the Muses. All Offices that require heat, as kitchens, Stillatories, Stoves, rooms for baking, brewing, washing, or the like; would be Meridional. All that need a cool and fresh temper, as Cellars, Pantries, Butteries, Granaries, to the North. To the same side likewise all that are appointed for gentle Motion, as Galleries, especially in warm Climes; or that otherwise require a steady and unvariable light, as Pinacothecia (saith Vitruvius') by which he intendeth (if I might guests at his Greek, as we must do often even at his Latin) certain Repositories for works of Rarity in Picture or other Arts, by the Italians called Studioli; which at any other Quarter where the course of the Sun doth diversify the Shadows, would lose much of their grace. And by this Rule, having always regard to the Use, any other Part may be fitly accommodated.  
I must here not omit to note, That the Ancient Grecians, and the Romans by their example; in their Buildings abroad, where the Seat was free, did almost Religiously situate the Front of their Houses towards the South: perhaps that the master's Eye, when he came home, might not be dazzled, or that being illustrated by the Sun, it might yield the more graceful Aspect, or some such reason. But from this the Modern Italians do vary. whereof I shall speak more in another place. Let thus much suffice at the present for the Position of the several Members, wherein must be had, as our author doth often insinuate, and especially lib. 6. cap. 10. a singular regard to the nature of the Region: Every Nation being tied above all Rules whatsoever, to a discretion of providing against their own Inconveniences: And therefore a good Parlour in Egypt, would perchance make a good Cellar in England.  
There now followeth the second Branch of the general Section touching the Work.  
In the Work, I will first consider the principal parts, and afterwards the accessary, or Ornaments; And in the Principal, first the Preparation of the Materials; and then the Disposition, which is the Form.  
Now, concerning the Material Part; Although surely it cannot disgrace an Architect, which doth so well become a Philosopher, to look into the Properties of Stone and Wood: as that Firtrees, Cypresses, Cedars, and such other Aereal aspiring Plants, being by a kind of natural rigour (which in a Man I would call Pride) inflexible downwards, are thereby fittest for Posts or Pillars, or such upright use: that on the other side, Oak, and the like true hearty Timber, being strong in all Positions, may be better trusted in cross and traverse Work; for Summers, or girding or binding Beams, as they term them. And so likewise to observe of Stone, that some are better within, and other to bear wether: Nay, to descend lower, even to examine Sand, and lime and Clay (of all which things Vitruvius hath discoursed, without any daintiness; and the most of new Writers) I say, though the Speculative Part of such knowledge be liberal: yet to redeem this Profession, and my present pains from indignity; I must here remember, That to choose and sort the Materials for every part of the fabric, is a Duty more proper to a second Superintendent over all the Under-Artisans, called (as I take it) by our author, Officinator lib. 6. cap. 11. and in that place expressly distinguished from the Architect, whose glory doth more consist in the Designment, and Idea of the whole Work; and his truest ambition should be to make the Form, which is the nobler Part, as it were, triumph over the Matter: whereof I cannot but mention by the way, a foreign Patron; namely, the Church of Santa Giustana in Padova: In truth, a sound piece of good Art, where the Materials being but ordinary Stone, without any garnishment of Sculpture. do yet ravish the beholder (and be knows not how) by a secret Harmony in the Proportions. And this indeed is that end, at which in some degree we should aim even in the privatest works: whereunto though I make haste, yet let me first collect a few of the least trivial Cautions belonging to the Material Provisions.  
Leon Batista Alberti is so curious, as to wish all the Timber cut out of the same forest, and all the Stone out of the same Quarry.  
Philibert de' l Orme the French Architect goes yet somewhat further, and would have the lime made of the very same Stone, which we intent to employ in the Work; as, belike, imagining, that they will sympathise and join the better by a king of Original kindred. But such conceits as these, seem somewhat too fine among this Rubbage, though I do not produce them in sport. For surely, the like agreements of nature may have oftentimes a discreet application to Art. always it must be confessed, that to make lime without any great choice, of refuse stuff, as we commonly do, is an English error of no small moment in our Buildings. Whereas the Italians at this day, and much more the Ancients, did burn their firmest Stone, and even fragments of Marble, where it was copious, which in time became almost Marble again, or at least of indissoluble durity, as appeareth in the standing theatres. I must here not omit, while I am speaking of this part, a certain form of Brick described by D. Barbaro, Patriarch of Aquileia, in the largest Edition of his Commentary upon Vitruvius. The Figure triangular, every side a foot long, and some inch and a ½ thick, which he doth commend unto us for many good conditions: As that they are more commodious in the management, of less expense, of fairer show, adding much beauty and strength to the Mural Angles, where they fall gracefully into an indented Work: so as I should wonder that we have not taken them into use, being prpounded by a man of good authority in this knowledge; but that all Nations do start at Novelties, and are indeed married to their own Moulds. Into this place might aptly fall a doubt, which some have well moved; whether the ancient Italians did burn their Brick or no; which a passage or two in Vitruvius hath left Ambiguous. Surely, where the Natural heat is strong enough to supply the Artificial, it were but a curious folly to multiply both Labour and expense. And it is besides, very probable, that those Materials with a kindly and temperate heat wauld prove fairer, smother, and less distorted, then with a violent: only they suffer two exceptions. First, that by such a gentle drying much time will be lost, which might otherwise be employed in compiling. Next, That they will want a certain sucking and soaking Thirstiness, or a fiery appetite to drink in the Lime, which must knit the fabric. But this question may be confined to the South, where there is more Sun and patience. I will therefore not hinder my course, with this incident scruple, but close that part which I have now in hand, about the Materials, with a principal caution: That sufficient Stuff and Money be ever ready before we begin: For when we build now a piece, and then another by fits, the Work dries and sinks unequally, whereby the Walls grow full of Chinks and Crevices; therefore such pawsings are well reproved by Palladio, lib. 1. cap. 1. and by all other. And so having gleaned these few remembrances touching the preparation of the Matter, I may now proceed to the Disposition thereof, which must form the Work. In the Form, as I did in the Seat, I will first consider the general Figuration, and then the several Members.  
Figures are either simple or mixed. The simple be either Circular or Angular. And of circular either complete or Deficient, as Ovals; with which kinds I will be contented, though the Distribution might be more curious.  
Now the exact Circle is in truth a Figure, which for our purpose hath many fit and eminent properties; as fitness for Commodity and Receipt, being the most capable, fitness for strength and duration, being the most united in his parts; fitness for beauty and delight, as imitating the Celestial Orbs, and the universal Form. And it seems besides, to have the approbation of nature, when she worketh by Instinct, which is her secret School: For Birds do build their Nests Spherically: But notwithstanding these Attributes, it is in truth a very unprofitable Figure in private fabrics, as being of all other the most chargeable, and much room lost in the bending of the Walls, when it comes to be divided, besides an ill distribution of light, except from the centre of the Roof. So as anciently it was not usual, save in their Temples and amphitheatres, which needed no Compartitions. The Ovals and other imperfect secular Forms, have the same exceptions, and less benefit of capacity: So as there remains to be considered in this general survey of Figures, the Angular and the Mixed of both, Touching the Angular, it may perchance sound somewhat strangely, but it is a true observation, that this Art doth neither love many Angles, nor few. For first, the Triangle, which hath the fewest sides and corners, is of all other the most condemned, as being indeed both incapable and infirm (whereof the reason shall be afterwards rendered) and likewise unresolvable into any other regular Form then itself in the inward Partitions.  
As for Figures of five, six, seven, or more Angles: They are surely fit for Military Architecture (where the Bulworks may be laid out at the Corners, and the sides serve for Curtains) then for civil use; though I am not ignorant of that famous Piece at Capralora, belonging to the House of Farnese, cast by Baroccio into the form of a Pentagone, with a Circle inscribed, where the Architect did ingeniously wrestle with divers inconveniences in disposing of the Lights, and in saving the vacuities. But as designs of such nature do more aim at Rarity then Commodity; so, for my part, I had rather admire them then commend them.  
These things considered, we are both by the Precepts, and by the Practice of the best Builders; to resolve upon Rectangular Squares, as a mean between too few and too many Angles; and through the equal inclination of the sides (which make the right Angle) stronger then the Rhombe, or lozenge, or any other irregular Square. But whether the exact Quadrat, or the long Square be the better, I find not well determined, though in mine own conceit, I must prefer the latter; provided that the Length do not exceed the Latitude above one third part, which would diminish the beauty of the Aspect, as shall appear when I come to speak of Symmetry and Proportion.  
Of mixed Figures, partly Circular, and partly Angular, I shall need to say nothing; because having handled the simple already, the mixed according to their composition, do participate of the same respects. Only against these, there is a proper Objection, that they offend Uniformity: Whereof I am therefore opportunely induced to say somewhat, as far as shall concern the outward Aspect, which is now in Discourse.  
In Architecture, there may seem to be two opposite affectations, Uniformity and Variety, which yet will very well suffer a good reconcilement, as we may see in the great Pattern of Nature, to which I must often resort: For surely, there can be no Structure more uniform than our Bodies in the whole Figuration: Each side agreeing with the other, both in the number, in the quality, and in the measure of the Parts: And yet some are round, as the Arms; some flat, as the Hands; some prominent, and some more retired: So as upon the matter we see that Diversity doth not destroy Uniformity, and that the Limbs of a noble fabric may be correspondent enough, though they be various; Provided always, that we do not run into certain extravagant Inventions, whereof I shall speak more largely when I come to the parting and casting of the whole Work. We ought likewise to avoid Enormous heights of six or seven Stories, as well as irregular Forms; and the contrary fault of low distended Fronts, is as unseemly: Or again, when the Face of the Building is narrow, and the Flank deep: To all which extremes some particular Nations or Towns are subject, whose Names may be civilly spared: And so much for the general Figuration, or Aspect of the Work.  
Now concerning the Parts in Severalty. All the parts of every fabric may be comprised under five Heads, which Division I receive from Batista Alberti, to do him right. And they be these:  

The Foundation.  
The Walls.  
The Appertions, or Overtures.  
The Compartition.  
And the Cover.   
About all which I purpose to gather the principal Cautions, and as I pass along, I will touch also the natural Reasons of Art, that my Discourse may be the less Mechanical.  
First then concerning the Foundation, which requireth the exactest care; For if that happen to dance, it will mar all the mirth in the House: Therefore that we may found our Habitation firmly, we must first examine the Bed of Earth (as I may term it,) upon which we will Build; and then the underfillings, or substruction, as the Ancients did call it: For the former, we have a general Precept in Vitruvius, twice precisely repeated by him, as a Point indeed of main consequence; first, l. 1. c. 5. And again more fitly, l. 3. c. 3. in these words, as Philander doth well correct the vulgar Copies: Substructionis Fundationes fodiantur (saith he) si que●…nt inveniri ad solidum, & in solido. By which words 〈◊〉 conceive him to commend unto us, not only a diligent, but even a jealous examination what the Soil will bear: advising us, not to rest upon any appearing solidity, unless the whole Mould through which we cut, hath likewise been solid; but how deep we should go in this search, he hath no where to my remembrance determined, as perhaps depending more upon Discretion, than Regularity, according to the weight of the Work; yet Andrea Palladio hath fairly adventured to reduce it into Rule: Allowing for that Cavazione (as he calleth it): sixth part of the height of the whole fabric, unless the cellars be under 
Under-digging, or Hollowing of the Earth.  ground, in which case he would have us (as it should seem) to sound somewhat lower.  
Some Italians do prescribe, that when they have chosen the Floor, or Plot, and laid out the Limits of the Work, we should first of all Dig Wells and Cisterns, and other underconducts and Conveyances, for the Suillage of the House, whence may arise a double benefit: for both the nature of the Mould or Soil; would thereby be safely searched, and moreover those open vents will serve to discharge such Vapours, as having otherwise no issue, might peradventure shake the Building. This is enough for the natural Grounding; which though it be not a Part of the solid fabric, yet here was the fittest place to handle it.  
There followeth the Substruction, or groundwork of the whole Edifice, which must sustain the Walls; and this is a kind of Artificial Foundation as the other was Natural. About which these ar● the chief Remembrances: First, that the bottom be precisely level, where the Italians therefore commonly lay a platform of good Board; Then th●… the lowest Ledge or Row be merely of Stone, ●●d the broader the better, closely laid, without Mort●… which is a general Caution for all parts in building, that are contiguous to Board or Timber, because Lime and Wood are insociable; and if any where unfit Confiners, then most especially in the Foundation. Thirdly, that the breadth of the Substruction be at least double to the insistent Wall, and more or less, as the weight of the fabric shall require; for as I must again repeat, Discretion may be freer than Art. Lastly, I find in some a curious precept, that the Materials below, be laid as they grew in the Quarry, supposing them belike to have most strength in their Natural and Habitual Posture. For as Philippe de l'Orme observeth, the breaking or yielding of a stone in this part, but the breadth of the back of a knife, will make a Cleft of more than half a foot in the fabric aloft: So important are fundamental Errors. Among which notes I have said nothing of Pallification, or Pyling of the Ground-plot, commanded by Vitruvius, when we build upon a moist or marshy Soil, because that were an error in the first choice. And therefore all Seats that must use such provision below (as Venice for an eminent example) would perhaps upon good enquiry, be found to have been at first chosen by the Counsel of Necessity.  
Now the Foundation being searched, and the Substruction laid, we must next speak of the Walls.  
Walls are either entire and continual, or intermitted; and the Intermissions be either Pillars or Pylasters'; for here I had rather handle them, then, as some others do, among Ornaments.  
The entire Muring, is by Writers diversely distinguished: By some, according to the quality of the Materials, as either Stone or Brick, etc. Where, by the way, let me note, that to build Walls and greater works of Flint, whereof we want not example in our Island, and particularly in the Province of Kent, was (as I conceive) merely unknown to the Ancients, who observing in that Material, a kind of Metalical Nature, or at least a Fusibility, seem to have resolved it into nobler use; an Art now utterly lost, or perchance kept up by a few chemics. Some again do not so much consider the quality, as the Position of the said Materials: As when Brick or squared Stones are laid in their lengths with sides and heads together, or their Points conjoined like a network (for so Vitruvius doth call it reticulatum opus) of familiar use (as it should seem) in his Age, though afterwards grown out of request, even perhaps for that subtle speculation which he himself toucheth; because so laid, they are more apt in swagging down, to pierce with their points, then in the jacent Posture, and so to crevice the Wall: But to leave such cares to the meaner Artificers, the more essential are these.  
That the Walls be most exactly perpendicular to the groundwork, for the right Angle (thereon depending) is the true cause of all stability, both it Artificial and Natural Positions: A man likewise standing firmest, when he stands uprightest. That the Massiest and heaviest Materials be the lowest, as fit to bear, then to be born. That the Work, a●… it riseth, diminish in thickness proportionally, fo●… ease both of weight, and of expense. That certai●… Courses or Ledges of more strength than the rest, b●… interlayed like Bones, to sustain the fabric from total ruin, if the under parts should decay. Lastly, that the Angles be firmly bound, which are the Nerves of the whole Edifice, and therefore are commonly fortified by the Italians, even in their Brick buildings, on each side of the corners, with well squared Stone, yielding both strength and grace. And so much touching the entire or solid Wall.  
The Intermissions (as hath been said) are either by Pillars, or Pyliasters.  
Pillars, which we may likewise call columns (for the word among Artificers is almost naturalised) I could distinguish into Simple and Compounded. But (to tread the beaten and plainest way) there are five Orders of Pillars, according to their dignity and perfection, thus marshaled.  

The Tuscan.  
The Dorique.  
The Jonique.  
The Corinthian.   
And the Compound Order, or as some call it, the Roman, others more generally the Italian.  
In which five Orders; I will first consider their Communities, and then their Proprieties.  
Their Communities (as far as I observe) are Principally three. First, they are all Round; for though some conceive Columna Atticurges, mentioned by Vitruvius, lib. 3. cap. 3. to have been a squared Pillar, yet we must pass it over at irregular, never received among these Orders, no more then certain other licentious inventions; of Wreathed, and Vined, and Figured columns, which our Author himself condemneth, being in his whole Book a professed enemy to Fancies.  
Secondly, they are all Diminished or Contracted insensibly, more or less, according to the proportion of their heights, from one third part of the whose Shaft upwards, which Philander doth prescribe by his own precise measuring of the Ancient remainders, as the most graceful Diminution. And here I must take leave to blame a practice grown (I know not how) in certain places too familiar, of making Pillars swell in the middle, as if they were sick of some Tympany, or dropsy, without any authentic Pattern or Rule, to my knowledge, and unseemly to the very judgement of sight. True it is, that in Vitruvius, lib. 3. cap. 2. we find these words, De adjectione, quae adjicitur in mediis Columnis, quae apud Grecos 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 appellatur, in extremo libro erit formatio ejus; which passage seemeth to have given some countenance to this error. But of the promise there made, as of divers other elsewhere, our Master hath failed us, either by slip of memory, or injury of time, and so we are left in the dark. Always sure I am, that besides the authority of example which it wanteth; it is likewise contrary to the Original and Natural Type, in Trees, which at first was imitated in Pillars, as Vitruvius himself observeth, lib. 5. cap. 1. For who ever saw any Cypress, or Pine (which are there alleged) small below and above, and tumerous in the middle; unless it were some diseased Plant, as Nature (though otherwise the comeliest Mistress) hath now and then her deformities and Irregularities?  
Thirdly, they have all their undersettings, or pedestals, in height a third part of the whole column, comprehending the Base and Capital; and their upper Adjuncts, as Architrave, freeze, and Cornice, a fourth part of the said Pillar; which rule, of singular use and facility, I find settled by Jacobo Baroccio; and hold him a more credible Author, as a man that most intended this piece, than any that vary from him in those Dimensions.  
These are their most considerable Communities and agreements.  
Their Proprieties or Distinctions will best appear by some reasonable description of them altogether, with their Architraves, Frizes, and Cornices, as they are usually handled.  
First therefore, the Tuscan is a plain, massy, rural Pillar, resembling some sturdy well-limbed Labourer, homely clad, in which kind of comparisons Vitruvius himself seemeth to take pleasure, lib. 4. cap. 1. The length thereof shall be six Diameters, of the grossest of the Pillar below. Of all proportions, in truth, the most natural; For our Author tells us, lib. 3. cap. 1. that the foot of a man is the sixth part of his body in ordinary measure, and Man himself according to the saying of Protagoras (which Aristotle doth somewhere vouchsafe to celebrate) is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, as it were, the Prototype of all exact symmetry, which we have had other occasions to touch before: This column I have by good warrant called Rural, Vitruu. cap. 2. lib. 3. And therefore we need not consider his rank among the rest. The distance or Intercolumniation (which word Artificers do usually borrow) may be near four of his own Diameters, because the Materials commonly laid over this Pillar, were rather of wood than stone; through the lightness whereof the Architrave could not suffer, though thinly supported, nor the column itself, being so substantial. The Contraction aloft shall be (according to the most received practice) one fourth part of his thickness below. To conclude, for I intent only as much as shall serve for a due Distinguishment, and not to delineate every petty member) the Tuscan is of all the rudest Pillar, and his Principal Character Simplicity.  
The Dorique Order is the gravest that hath been received into civil use, preserving, in comparison of those that follow, a more Masculine Aspect, and little trimmer than the Tuscan that went before, save a sober garnishment now and then of Lion's heads in the Cornice, and of Tryglyphs and Metopes always in the freeze. Sometimes likewise, but rarely, channeled, and a little slight Sculpture about the Hypotrachelion or Neck, under the Capital. The length, seven Diameters. His rank or degree, is the lowest by all Congruity, as being more massy than the other three, and consequently abler to support. The Intercolumniation, thrice as much as his thickness below. The Contraction aloft, one fifth of the same measure. To discern him, will be a piece rather of good Heraldry, then of Architecture: For he is best known by his place when he is in company, and by the peculiar ornament of his freeze (before mentioned) when he is alone.  
The jonique Order doth represent a kind of Feminine slenderness, yet saith Vitruvius, not like a light housewife, but in a decent dressing, hath much of the Matron. The length eight Diameters. In degree as in substantialness, next above the Dorique, sustaining the third, and adorning the second Story. The Intercolumniation two of his own Diameters. The Contraction one sixth part. B●… known by his trim, for the body of this column is perpetually channelled, like a thick plighted Gown. The Capital dressed on each side, not much unlike women's Wires, in a spiral wreathing, which they call the Ionian Voluta. The Cornice indented. The freeze swelling like a pillow: And therefore by Vitruvius, not unelegantly termed Pulvinata. These are his best Characters.  
The Corinthian, is a column lasciviously decked like a courtesan, and therein much participating (as all Inventions do) of the place where they were first born: Corinth having been (without controversy) one of the wantonest Towns in the world. This Order is of nine Diameters. His degree, one Stage above the Jonique, and always the highest of the simple Orders. The Intercolumniation two of his Dia●…eters, and a fourth part more, which is of all other the comeliest distance. The Contraction one seventh part. In the Cornice both Dentelli and Modiglioni. The freeze, adorned with all kinds of Figures 
Our artisans call them Teeth and Cartouzes.  and various Compartments at Pleasure. The Capitals, cut into the beautifullest leaf, that Nature doth yield; which surely, next the Aconitum Pardalianches (rejected perchance as an ominous Plant) is the Acanthus, or Brancha U●…sina; though Vitruvius doth impute the choice thereof unto Chance, and we must be contented to believe him: In short, As Plainness did Charactarize the Tuscan, so must Delicacy and Variety the Corinthian Pillar; besides the height of his Rank.  
The last is the Compounded Order: His name being a brief of his nature. For this Pillar is nothing in effect, but a medley, or an amass of all the precedent Ornaments, making a new kind, by stealth; and though the most richly tricked, yet the poorest in this, that he is a borrower of all his Beauty. His length, (that he may have somewhat of his own) shall be of ten Diameters. His degree should, no doubt, be the highest, by reasons before yielded. But few Palaces, Ancient or Modern, exceed the third of the Civil Orders. The Intercolumniation but a Diameter and an half, or always somewhat less than two. The Contraction of this Pillar must be one eighth Part less above then below. To know him will be easy by the very mixture of his Ornaments, and Clothing.  
And so much touching the five Orders of columns, which I will conclude with two or three not impertinent Cautions:  
First, that where more of these Orders than one, shall be set in several Stories or Contignations, there must be an exquisite care to place the columns precisely one over another, that so the solid may answer to the solid, and the vacuities to the vacuities, as well for Beauty, as strength of the fabric: And by this Caution the Consequence is plain, that when we speak of the Intercolumniation or Distance which is due to each Order, we mean in a Dorique, jonical, Corinthian Porch, or Cloister, or the like of one Contignation, and not in Storied buildings.  
Secondly, Let the columns above be a fourth part less than those below, saith Vitruvius, lib. 5. cap. 1. A strange Precept in my opinion; and to strange, that peradventure it were more suitable, even to his own Principles, to make them rather a fourth part greater. For lib. 3. cap. 2. where our Master handleth the Contractions of Pillars, we have an optic Rule, that the higher they are, the less should be always their diminution aloft, because the Eye itself doth naturally contract all Objects more or less, according to the Distance; which Consideration may, at first sight, seem to have been forgotten in the Caution we have now given; but Vitruvius (the best Interpreter of himself) hath in the same place of his fifth Book well acquitted his Memory by these words: Columna superiores quarta parte minores, quàm inferiores, sunt constituendae; proptereà quòd, operi ferendo quae sunt inferiora, firmi●…ra esse debent; preferring like a wise mechanic, the natural Reason before the Mathematical, and sensible conceits before abstracted. And yet lib. 4. cap. 4. he seemeth again to affect subtlety, allowing Pillars the more they are chaneled, to be the more slender; because while our Eye (saith he) doth as it were distinctly measure the eniment and the hollowed parts, the Total Object appeareth the bigger, and so as much as those excavations do subtract, is supplied by a Fallacy of the Sight: But here me thinks, our Master should likewise have rather considered the natural inconvenience; for though Pillars by cha●…neling, be seemingly engrossed to our Sight, yet they are truly weakened in themselves; and therefore ought perchance in sound reason not to be the more slender, but the more corpulent, unless apparences preponder truths; but Contra Magistrum non est disputandum.  
A third Caution shall be, that all the projected or jutting parts (as they are termed) be very moderate, especially, the Cornices of the lower Orders; for whilst some think to give them a beautiful and royal Aspect by their largeness, they sometimes hinder both the Light within, (whereof I shall speak more in due place) and likewise detract much from the view of the Front without, as well appeareth in one of the principal fabrics at Venice, namely, the Palace of the Duke Grimani on the Canal Grande, which by this magnificent error, is somewhat disgraced: I need now say no more concerning columns and their Adjuncts, about which Architects make such a noise in their Books, as if the very terms of Architraves, and Frizes, and Cornices, and the like, were enough to graduate a Master of this Art: yet let me before I pass to other matter, prevent a familiar Objection; It will perchance be said, that all this Doctrine touching the five Orders, were fit for the Quarries of Asia, which yielded 127 columns of 60 Foot high to the Ephesian Temple; or for Numidia, where Marbles abound; then for the Spirits of England, who must be contented with more ignoble Materials: To which I answer, That this need not discourage us: For I have often at Venice viewed with much pleasure, an Atrium Graecum (we may translate it an Anti porch, after the Greek manner) raised by Andraea Palladio, upon eight columns of the compounded Order: The Bases of Stone, without pedestals: The Shafts or Bodies of mere Brick, three Foot and an half thick in the Diameter below, and consequently thirty five Foot high, as himself hath described them in his second Book: Then which, mine Eye hath never yet beheld any columns more stately of Stone or Marble; For the Bricks having first been form in a circular Moula, and then cut before their burning into four Quarters or more, the sides afterwards join so closely, and the points concentre so exactly, that the Pillars appear one entire piece; which short description●… could not omit, that thereby may appear, how in truth we want rather Art then Stuff, to satisfy our greatest Fancies.  
After Pillars, the next in my distribution are Pilasters, mentioned by Vitruvius, lib. 5. cap. 1. and scant any where else under the name of Parastates, as Philander conceiveth, which Grammatical point (though perchance not very clear) I am contented to examine no further. Always, what we mean by the thing itself is plain enough in our own vulgar; Touching which, I will briefly collect the most considerable Notes.  
Pylasters' must not be too tall and slender, lest they resemble Pillars; nor too Dwarfish and gross, lest they imitate the Piles or Peers of Bridges; Smoothness doth not so naturally become them, as a rustic Superficies; for they aim more at State and Strength, than Elegancy. In private Buildings they ought not to be narrower than one Third, nor broader than two parts of the whole Vacuity between Pylaster and Pylaster; but to those that stand at the Corners, may be allowed a little more Latitude by discretion, for strength of the Angles: In theatres and Amphi theatres, and such weighty Works, Palladio observeth them, to have been as broad as the half, and now and then as the whole Vacuity: He noteth likewise (and others consent with him) that their true Proportion should be an exact Square; But for lestening of expense, and enlarging of room, they are commonly narrower in Flank, then in Front: Their principal Grace doth consist in half or whole Pillars ' applied unto them; in which case it is well noted by Authors, that the columns may be allowed somewhat above their ordinary length, because they lean unto so good Supporters. And thus much shall suffice touching Pylasters', which is a cheap, and a strong, and a noble kind of Structure.  
Now because they are oftener, both for Beauty, and Majesty, found arched, then otherwise; I am here orderly led to speak of Arches, and under the same head of Vaults: for an Arch is nothing indeed but a contracted Vault, and a Vault is but a dilated Arch: Therefore to handle this Piece both compendiously, and fundamentally, I will resolve the whole business into a few Theorems.  

Theorem 1.  
All solid Materials free from impediment, do descend perpendicularly downwards, because Ponderosity is a natural inclination to the centre of the World, and Nature performeth her Motions by the shortest lines.   

Theorem 2.  
Bricks moulded in their ordinary Rectangular form, if they shall be laid one by another in a level row, between any Supporters sustaining the two ends, than all the pieces between will necessarily sink, even by their own natural Gravity; and much more, if they suffer any depression by other weight above them, because their sides being parallel, they have room to descend perpendicularly, without impeachment, according to the former Theorem; Therefore to make them stand, we must either change their Posture, or their Figure, or both.   

Theorem 3.  
If Bricks moulded, or Stones squared Cuneatim, (that is, Wedge-wise, broader above than below) shall be laid in a Row-level, with their ends supported, as in the precedent Theorem, pointing all to one centre; then none of the pieces between can sink till the Supporters give way, because they want room in that Figuration, to descend perpendicularly. But this is yet a weak piece of Structure, because the Supporters are subject to much impulsion, especially if the Line be long; for which reason this Form is seldom used, but over windows, or narrow Doors. Therefore to fortify the Work, as in this third Theorem, we have supposed the Figure of all the Materials different from those in the second: So likewise we must now change the Posture, as will appear in the Theorem following.   

Theorem 4.  
If the Materials figured as before Wedge-wise, shall not be disposed levelly, but in form of some Arch, or portion of a Circle, pointing all to the same centre, In this case neither the pieces of the said Arch can sink downwards, through want of room to descend 
* By the first Theor.  perpendicularly; Nor the Supporters or Butments (as they are termed) of the said Arch can suffer so much violence, as in the precedent flat posture; for the roundness will always make the incumbent weight rather to rest upon the Supporters, then to shove them; whence may be drawn an evident corollary: that the safest of all Arches is the semicircular, and of all Vaults the Hemisphere, though not absolutely exempted from some natural weakness, † as Bernardino Baldi Abbot of 
* Which is the sole Prerogative of perpendicular Lines, and right Angles.  Guastalla, in his Commentary upon Aristotle's mechanics, doth very well prove: where let me note by the way, that when any thing is Mathematically demonstrated weak, it is much more Mechanically weak: errors ever occurring more easily in the management of Gross Materials, then Lineal designs.   

Theorem 5.  
As semicircular Arches, or Hemispherical Vaults, being raised upon the total Diameter, be of all other the roundest, and consequently the securest, by the precedent theorem: So those are the gracefullest, which keeping precisely the same height, shall yet be distended one fourteenth part longer than the said entire Diameter; which addition of distent will confer much to their Beauty, and detract but little from their Strength.  
This Observation I find in Leon-Batista Alberti; But the practice how to preserve the same height, and yet distend the Arms or Ends of the Arch, is in Albert Durer's Geometry, who taught the Italians many an excellent Line, of great use in this Art.  
Upon these five theorems, all the skill of Arching and Vaulting is grounded: As for those Arches, which our artisans call of the third and fourth point, And the Tuscan Writers di terzo, and d●… quarto accuto, because they always concur in an acute Angle, and do spring from division of the Diameter into three, four, or more parts, at pleasure; I say, such as these, both for the natural imbecility of the sharp Angle itself, and likewise for their very Uncomeliness, aught to be exiled from judicious eyes, and left to their first Inventors, the Goths or Lumbards'; amongst other relics of that barbarous Age.  
Thus of my first Partition of the parts of every fabric, into five Heads, having gone through the two former, and been incidently carried into this ●…ast Doctrine touching Arches and Vaults. The next now in order are the Apertions; under which ●…erm I do comprehend Doors, Windows, staircases, chimneys, or other Conducts: In short, all In-lets, ●…r outlets; To which belong two general Cautions.  
First, That they be as few in number, and as moderate in Dimension, as may possibly consist with other due respects: for in a word, all Openings are weakenings.  
Secondly, That they do not approach too near the Angles of the walls; for it were indeed a most ●…ssential solecism, to weaken that part which must strengthen all the rest: A precept well recorded, ●…ut ill practised by the Italians themselves, particu●…arly at Venice, where I have observed divers Per●…oli, or Meniana (as Vitruvius seemeth to call ●…hem, which are certain ballised outstanding to ●…tisfie curiosity of sight) very dangerously set ●…rth, upon the very point itself of the Mural ●…ngle.  
Now, Albeit I make haste to the casting and ●…omparting of the whole Work, (being indeed the ●…ery Definitive sum of this Art, to distribute sefully and gracefully a well chosen Plot) yet I ●…ill first under their several Heads, collect briefly ●…me of the choicest notes belonging to these parti●…lar Overtures.   

Of Doors and Windows.  
THese In-lets of Men and of Light, I couple together, because I find their Dimensions ●…ought under one Rule by Leon Alberti (a learned Searcher) who from the School of Pythagor●… (where it was a fundamental maxim, that th●… Images of all things are latent in Numbers) dot●… determine the comeliest Proportion betwee●… breadths and heigths; Reducing Symmetry to Sym●…phony, and the Harmony of Sound, to a kind of Harmony in Sight, after this manner: The two principal Consonances, that most ravish the Ear, are by consent of all Nature, the fifth, and the octa●… whereof the first riseth radically from the proportion between two and three; The other from th●… double Interval, between one and two, or betwee●… two and four, etc. Now if we shall transport the●… proportions from Audible to Visible Objects; a●… apply them as they shall fall fittest (the nature 〈◊〉 the Place considered) namely, in some Windo●… and Doares, the Symmetry of two to three in thei●… Breadth and Length; In others, the double as a foresaid; There will indubitably result from either a graceful and harmonious contentment to th●… Eye: Which speculation, though it may appe●… unto vulgar artisans, perhaps too subtle, and t●… sublime, yet we must remember, that Vitruvi●… himself doth determine many things in his profess●…on, by Musical Grounds, and much commende●… in an Architect a Philosophical Spirit; that is, 〈◊〉 would have him (as I conceive it) to be no s●…perficial, and floating Artificer; but a Diver i●… Causes, and into the Mysteries of Proportion. 〈◊〉 the Ornaments belonging both to Doors and Wi●…dows, I shall speak in other place; But let me he●… add one Observation; That our Master (as ●…peareth by divers passages, and particularly lib. 〈◊〉 cap. 9) seems to have been an extreme Lover 〈◊〉 Luminous rooms; And indeed, I must confes●… that a Frank Light can misbecome no edifice whatsoever, Temples only excepted; which were anciently dark, as they are likewise at this day in some Proportion. Devotion more requiring collected ●hen diffused Spirits. Yet on the other side, we must take heed to make a House 
Lumen est diffusivum sui & alieni.  though but for civil use) all Eyes, ● Argus, which in Northern Climes would be too cold, In Southern too hot: And therefore the matter indeed importeth more than a merry comparison. Besides, There is no part of Structure either more expenseful than Windows, or more ruinous; not only for that vulgar reason, as being exposed ●o all violence of weather; but because consisting of so different and unsociable pieces, as Wood, Iron, led, and Glass, and those small and weak, they ●re easily shaken; I must likewise remember one ●hing, (though it be but a Grammatical Note) ●ouching Doors. Some were Foreste and some were ●alvae. Those (as the very word may seem to import) did open outwards, These inwards, and were commonly of two Leaves or Panes, (as we call ●hem) thereby requiring indeed a lesser Circuit in ●heir unfoldings; And therefore much in use among italians at this day: But I must charge them with ●n Imperfection, for though they let in as well as ●he former, yet they keep out worse.   

Of staircases.  
To make a Complete staircase, is a curious piece of Architecture: The vulgar Cautions ●re these:  
That it have a very liberal Light against all casuality of Slips, and Falls.  
That the space above the Head, be large and airy, which the Italians use to call Un bels-fogol●…, as it were good Ventilation, because a man doth spend much breath in mounting.  
That the Half-paces be well distributed at competent distances, for reposing on the way.  
That to avoid Encounters, and besides to gratifi●… the beholder, the whole staircase have no nigar●… Latitude, that is, for the principal Ascent, at lea●…ten foot in Royal Buildings.  
That the breadth of every single Step or Stair b●… never less than one foot, nor more than eighteen inches.  
That they exceed by no means half a foot in thei●… height or thickness, for our legs do labour mo●… in Elevation, then in distension: These I say are familiar remembrances; to which let me add,  
That the steps be laid where they join Co●…●…tantino di scarpa; we may translate it somewha●… sloping, that so the foot may in a sort both asce●… and descend together, which though observed b●… few, is a secret and delicate deception of the pai●… in mounting.  
Lastly, to reduce this Doctrine to some Natur●… or at least Mathematical ground, (our Master, 〈◊〉 we see, lib. 9 cap. 2.) borroweth those proport●…ons that make the sides of a Rectangular Triang●… which the Ancient School did express in low●… terms, by the numbers of Three, Four, and F●… That is Three for the Perpendicular, from the St●… head to the ground; Four for the Ground-line it se●… or Recession from the wall; And Five for the wh●… Inclination or sloapness in the ascent; which pr●…portion, saith he, will make Temperatas gradu●… brationes. Hitherto of staircases which are dire●… There are likewise Spiral, or Cockle Stairs, either Circular, or Oval, and sometimes running about a Pillar, sometimes vacant, wherein Palladio, (A man in this point of singular felicity) was wont ●…o divide the Diameter of the first sort into three parts, yielding one to the Pillar, and two to the Steps; Of the second into four, whereof he gave two to the Stairs, and two to the Vacuity, which had all their light from above. And this in exact Ovals is a masterpiece.   

Of chimneys.  
IN the present business, Italians (who make very frugal fires, are perchance not the best counsellors.) Therefore from them we may better ●…earn, both how to raise fair mantles within the rooms, and how to disguise gracefully the shafts of chimneys abroad (as they use) in sundry forms, (which I shall handle in the latter part of my Labour) and the rest I will extract from Philippe de l'Orme; in this part of his Work more diligent, then in any other; or, to do him right, than any man else.  
First, he observeth very soberly, that who in the disposition of any Building will consider the nature of the Region, and the Winds that ordinarily blow from this, or that Quarter; might so cast the rooms which shall most need fire, that he should little fear the incommodity of Smoke: and therefore he thinks that inconvenience, for the most part, to proceed from some inconsiderate beginning. Or if the error lay not in the Disposition, but in the Structure itself; then he makes a Logical enquiry, That either the Wind is too much let in above, at the mouth of the Shaft, or the Smoke stifled below: If none of these, Then there is a repulsion of the Fume, by some higher Hill or fabric, that shall overtop the Chimney, and wor●… the former effect: If likewise not this, Then 〈◊〉 concludes, that the Room which is infested, mu●… be necessarily both little and close, so as the smo●… cannot issue by a natural Principle, wanting a su●…cession and supply of new Air.  
Now, in these cases he suggesteth divers Artificial Remedies, of which I will allow one a litt●… Description, because it savoureth of philosophy, and was touched by Vitruvius himself, lib. 1. cap. 6. b●… by this man ingeniously applied to the present use. He will have us provide two hollow brass Balls o●… reasonable capacity, with little holes open i●… both, for reception of Water, when the Air sha●… be first sucked out; One of these we must pla●… with the hole upwards, upon an iron Wire, th●… shall traverse the Chimney, a little above the M●…tel, at the ordinary height of the sharpest heat 〈◊〉 flames, whereof the Water within being rarified and by rarifaction resolved into Wind, will bre●… out, and so force up the smoke, which otherwi●… might linger in the Tunnel, by the way, and oftentimes revert; With the other, (saith he) 〈◊〉 may supply the place of the former, when it is exhausted; or for a need blow the Fire in the me●… while: Which Invention I have interposed fo●… some little entertainment of the Reader; I wi●… conclude with a note from Palladio, who observe●… that the Ancients did warm their Rooms with certain secret Pipes that came through the Walls transporting heat (as I conceive it) to sundry parts of the House from one common Furnace; I am ready to baptise them Cali ducts, as well as they are termed ventiducts, and aqueducts, that convey Wind and Water; which whether it were a custom or a delicacy, was surely both for thrift, and for use, far beyond the Germane Stoves; And I should prefer it likewise before our own fashion, if the very sight of a fire did not add to the Room a kind of Reputation, 
* A 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Hom. Epig.  as old Homer doth teach us in a verse, sufficient to prove that himself was not blind, as some would lay to his charge.  
Touching Conducts for the Suillage, and other necessities of the House, (which how base soever in use, yet for health of the inhabitants, are as considerable, and perhaps more than the rest) I find in our Authors, this Counsel; That Art should imitate Nature, in those ignoble conveyances; and separate them from Sight, (where there wants a running Water) into the most remote, and lowest, and thickest part of the Foundation; with secret vents passing up through the Walls like a Tunnel, to the wild Air aloft: which all Italian artisans commend for the discharge of noisome vapours, though elsewhere, to my knowledge, little practised.  
Thus having considered the precedent Apertions, or Overtures in severalty, according to their particular Requisites, I am now come to the casting and Contexture of the whole Work, comprehended under the term of Compartition: Into which (being the mainest piece) I cannot enter without a few general Precautions, as I have done in other Parts.  
First therefore, Let no man that intendeth to build, settle his Fancy upon a draught of the Work in paper, how exactly soever measured, or neatly set off in perspective; And much less upon a bare Plant thereof, as they call the Sciographia or Ground lines; without a Model or Type of the whole Structure, and of every parcel and Partition in pasteboard or wood  
Next, that the said Model be as plain as may be, without colours, or other beautifying, lest the pleasure of the Eye preoccupate the Judgement; which advice, omitted by the Italian Architécts, I find in Philippe de l'Orme; and therefore (though France be not the theatre of best buildings) it did merit some mention of his name.  
Lastly, the bigger that this Type be, it is still the better, not that I will persuade a man to such an enormity, as that Model made by Antonio Labaco, of St. Peter's Church in Rome, containing 22 foot in length, 16 in breadth, and 13 in height, and costing 4184 Crowns: The price, in truth, of a reasonable chapel: Yet in a fabric of some 40 or 50 thousand pounds charge, I wish 30 pounds at least laid out before hand in an exact Model; for a little misery in the Premises, may easily breed some absurdity of greater charge, in the Conclusion.  
Now, after these premonishments I will come to the Compartition itself, By which, the Authors of this Art (as hath been touched before) do understand, a graceful, and useful distribution, of the whole Ground-plot, both for rooms of Office, and of Reception or Entertainment, as far as the Capacity thereof, and the nature of the country will comport. Which circumstances in the present subject, are all of main consideration, and might yield more discourse than an Elemental rhapsody will permit. Therefore (to anatomize briefly this Definition) the Gracefulness (whereof we speak) will consist in double Analogy, or correspondency. First between the Parts and the whole, whereby a great fabric should have great Partitions, great Lights, great Entrances, great Pillars or Pylasters': In sum, all the Members great. The next between the Parts themselves, not only, considering their breadths, and lengths, as before when we spoke of Doors and Windows; but here likewise enters a third respect of Height, a point (I must confess) hardly reduceable to any general precept.  
True it is, that the Ancients did determine the Longitude of all Rooms, which were longer than broad, by the double of their Latitude, Vitruvius lib. 6. cap. 5. And the height by the half of the breadth and length summed together. But when the Room was precisely square, they made the Height half as much more as the Latitude; which Dimensions the Modern Architects have taken leave to vary, upon discretion: Sometimes squaring the Latitude, and then making the Diagonial or overthwart Line, from Angle to Angle, of the said Square; the measure of the height sometimes more, but seldom lower than the full breadth itself; which boldness of quitting the old Proportions, some attribute first to Michael Angelo da Buonaroti, perchance upon the credit he had before gotten in two other Arts.  
The second Point is Usefulness, which will consist in a sufficient Number of Rooms, of all sorts, and in their apt Coherence, without distraction, without confusion; so as the beholder may not only call it Una Fabrica ben raccolta, as Italians use to speak of well united Works; but likewise, that it may appear airy and spiritous, and fit for the welcome of cheerful Guests; about which the principal Difficulty will be in contriving the Lights, and staircases, whereof I will touch a note or two: For the first, I observe that the ancient Architects were at much ease. For both the Greeks and Romans (of whose private dwellings Vitruvius hath left us some description) had commonly two cloistered open Courts, one serving for the women's side, and the other for the Men; who yet perchance now adays would take so much separation unkindly. Howsoever by this means, the reception of Light into the Body of the building, was very prompt, both from without and from within: which we must now supply either by some open Form of the fabric, or among graceful refuges, by Tarrasing any Story which is in danger of darkness; or lastly, by perpendicular Lights from the Roof, of all other the most natural, as shall be showed anon. For the second Difficulty, which is casting of the staircases; That being in itself no hard point, but only as they are encumbrances of room for other use, (which lights were not) I am therefore aptly moved here to speak of them. And first of Offices.  
I have marked a willingness in the Italian artisans, to distribute the Kitchen, Pantry, Bakehouse, washing Rooms: and even the Buttery likewise, under ground, next above the Foundation, and sometimes level with the plain, or Floor of the Cellar: raising the first Ascent into the house Fifteen Foot, or more, for that End; which besides the benefit of removing such annoys out of sight, and the gaining of so much more room above, doth also by elevation of the Front add Majesty to the whole Aspect. And with such a disposition of the principal staircase, which commonly doth deliver us into the Plain of the second Story, there may be wonders done with a little room, whereof I could allege brave Examples abroad; and none more Artificial and Delicious, than a House built by Daniele Barbaro Patriarch of Aquileia, before mentioned among the memorable Commenters upon Vitruvius. But the Definition (above determined) doth call us to some consideration of our own country; where though all the other petty Offices (before rehearsed) may well enough be so remote, yet by the natural Hospitality of England, the Buttery must be more visible, and we need perchance for our ranges, a more spacious and luminous kitchen than the foresaid Compartition will bear; with a more competent nearness likewise to the Dining-Room, or else besides other Inconveniences, perhaps some of the Dishes may straggle by the way. Here let me note a common defect, that we have of a very useful Room, called by the Italians, Il Tinello; and familiar, nay almost essential, in all their great Families. It is a place properly appointed to conserve the meat that is taken from the Table, till the Waiters eat, which with us by an old fashion, is more unseemly set by in the mean while.  
Now touching the distribution of Lodging-Chambers; I must here take leave to reprove a fashion, which I know not how, hath prevailed through Italy, though without ancient examples, as far as I can perceive by Vitruvius. The thing I mean, is, that they so cast their partitions, as when all Doors are open, a man may see through the whole House, which doth necessarily put an intolerable servitude upon all the Chambers save the Inmost, where none can arrive but through the rest; or else the Walls must be extreme thick for secret passages. And yet this also will not serve the turn, without at least Three doors to every Room: A thing most insufferable in cold and windy Regions, and every where no small weakening to the whole Work: Therefore with us that want no cooling, I cannot commend the direct opposition of such Overtures, being indeed merely grounded upon the fond ambition of displaying to a Stranger all our Furniture at one Sight, which therefore is most maintained by them that mean to harbour but a few; whereby they make only advantage of the vanity, and seldom prove the Inconvenience. There is likewise another defect (as absurdities are seldom solitary) which will necessarily follow upon such a servile disposing of inward Chambers; That they must be forced to make as many common great Rooms, as there shall be several Stories; which (besides that they are usually dark, a point hardly avoided, running as they do, through the middle of the whole House) do likewise devour so much Place, that thereby they want other Galleries, and Rooms of Retreat, which I have often considered among them (I must confess) with no small wonder; for I observe no Nation in the World, by nature more private and reserved, than the Italian; and on the other side, in no Habitations less privacy; so there is a kind of Conflict between their Dwelling and their Being: It might here perchance be expected, that I should at least describe (which others have done in draughts and designs) divers Forms of Plants and Partitions, and varieties of Inventions; But speculative Writers (as I am) are not bound to comprise all particular Cases within the Latitude of the Subject which they handle; General Lights, and Directions, and pointings at some faults, is sufficient. The rest must be committed to the sagacity of the Architect, who will be often put to divers ingenious shifts, when he is to wrestle with scarcity of Ground. 
The Italians call it una stanza dannata, as when a Buttery is cast under a staircase, or the like.  As sometimes * to dam one Room (though of special use) for the benefit and beauty of all the rest; Another while, to make those fairest, which are most in Sight, and to leave the other (like a cunning Painter) in shadow, cum multis aliis, which it were infinite to pursue. I will therefore close this part touching Compartition, as cheerfully as I can, with a short description of a Feasting or entertaining Room, after the Egyptian manner, who seem (at least till the time of Vitruvius) from the ancient Hebrews and Phoenicians (whence all knowledge did flow) to have retained with other Sciences, in a high degree, also the Principles, and practice of this magnificent Art. For as far as I may conjecture by our master's Text, lib. 6. cap. 5. (where as in many other places he hath tortured his Interpreters) there could no Form for such a Royal use be comparably imagined like that of the foresaid Nation, which I shall adventure to explain.  
Let us conceive a Floor or Area of goodly length, (for example, at least of 120 Foot, with the breadth somewhat more than the half of the Longitude, whereof the reason shall be afterwards rendered. About the two longest Sides and Head of the said Room shall run an Order of Pillars, which Palladio doth suppose Corinthian, (as I see by his design) supplying that point out of Greece, because we know no Order proper to Egypt. The Fourth Side I will leave free for the Entrance: On the foresaid Pillars was laid an Architrave, which Vitruvius mentioneth alone: Palladio adds thereunto (and with reason) both freeze and Cornice, over which went up a continued Wall, and therein half or three quarter Pillars answering directly to the Order below, but a fourth Part less; and between these half columns above, the whole Room was windowed round about.  
Now, from the lowest Pillars there was laid over a Contignation or Floor born upon the outward Wall, and the Head of the Columns with terrace and Pavement, Sub dio (saith our Master;) and so indeed he might safely determine the matter in Egypt, where they fear no Clouds: Therefore Palladio, (who leaveth this terrace uncovered in the middle, and ballised about) did perchance construe him rightly, though therein discording from others: always we must understand a sufficient breadth of Pavement left between the open part and the Windows, for some delight of spectators, that might look down into the Room: The Latitude I have supposed, contrary to some former Positions, a little more than the half of the length; because the Pillars standing at a competent distance from the outmost Wall, will, by interception of the Sight, somewhat in appearance diminish the breadth; In which cases, (as I have touched once or twice before) Discretion may be more licentious then Art. This is the description of an Egyptian Room for Feasts and other jollities. About the Walls whereof we must imagine entire Statues placed below, and illuminated by the descending Light from the terrace, as likewise from the windows between the half Pillars above: So as this Room had abundant and advantageous Light; and besides other garnishing, must needs receive much State by the very height of the Roof, that lay over two Orders of Columns. And so having run through the four parts of my first general Division, namely, Foundations, walls, Apertions, and Compartition, the House may now have leave to put on his Hat; having hitherto been uncovered itself, and consequently unfit to cover others. Which point, though it be the last of this Art in execution, yet it is always in Intention the first: For who would build but for Shelter? Therefore obtaining both the Place, and the dignity of a Final Cause, it hath been diligently handled by divers, but by none more learnedly than Bernardino Baldi Abbot of Guastalla (before cited upon other occasion) who doth fundamentally, and Mathematically demonstrate the firmest knit of the upper Timbers, which make the Roof. But it hath been rather my Scope, in these Elements, to fetch the ground of all from Nature herself, which indeed is the simplest mother of Art. Therefore I will now only deliver a few of the properest, and (as I may say) of the naturallest considerations that belong to this remaining Piece.  
There are two Extremities to be avoided in the Cover, or Roof: That it be not too heavy, nor too light. The first, will suffer a vulgar objection of pressing too much the under work. The other containeth a more secret inconvenience; for the Cover is not only a bare defence, but likewise a kind of Band or Ligature to the whole fabric, and therefore would require some reasonable weight. But of the two extremes, a House Top-heavy is the worst. Next, there must be a care of Equality, that the Edifice be not pressed on the one side more than on the other; and here Palladio doth wish (like a cautelous artisan) that the inward Walls might bear some good share in the burden, and the outward be the less charged.  
Thirdly, the Italians are very precise in giving the Cover a graceful pendence of sloapness, dividing the whole breadth into nine Parts; whereof two shall serve for the elevation of the highest Top or Ridge from the lowest. But in this Point the quality of the Region is considerable: For (as our Vitruvius insinuateth) those Climes that fear the falling and lying of much Snow, aught to provide more inclining Pentices: and Comeliness must yield to Necessity.  
These are the usefullest Cautions which I find in Authors, touching the last Head of our Division, wherewith I will conclude the first Part of my present Travel. The second remaineth, concerning Ornaments within, or without the fabric: A Piece not so dry as the mere Contemplation of Proportions. And therefore I hope therein somewhat to refresh both the Reader, and myself.    

OF THE ELEMENTS OF ARCHITECTURE. The Second Part.  
EVery man's proper Mansion House and Home, being the theatre of his Hospitality, the Seat of Self-fruition, the Comfortablest part of his own Life, the noblest of his son's Inheritance, a kind of private princedom; Nay, to the Possessors thereof, an epitome of the whole World; may well deserve by these Attributes, according to the degree of the Master, to be decently and delightfully adorned. For which end, there are two Arts attending on Architecture, like two of her principal Gentlewomen, to dress and trim their Mistress; PICTURE and SCULPTURE: Between whom, before I proceed any further, I will venture to determine an ancient quarrel about their Precedency, with this Distinction; that in the garnishing of Fabrics, Sculpture no doubt must have the pre-eminence, as being indeed of nearer affinity to Architecture itself, and consequently the more natural, and more suitable Ornament. But on the other side, (to consider these two Arts as I shall do Philosophically, and not Mechanically) An excellent Piece of Painting, is, to my judgement, the more admirable Object, because it comes near an Artificial Miracle, to make divers distinct Emineces appear upon a Flat by force of Shadows, & yet the Shadows themselves not to appear: which I conceive to be the uttermost value and virtue of a Painter; and to which very few have arrived in all Ages.  
In these two Arts (as they are appliable to the Subject which I handle) it shall be fit first to consider how to choose them; and next how to disp●… them. To guide us in the choice, we have a R●… somewhere (I well remember) in Pliny, and it i●… a pretty observation; That they do mutually help to censure one another. For Picture is best when 〈◊〉 standeth off, as if it were carved; and Sculpture is 〈◊〉 when it appeareth so tender, as if it were painted: 〈◊〉 mean when there is such a seeming softness in the Limbs, as if not a Chisel had hewed them out of Sto●… or other Material, ut a pencil had drawn and stroak●… them in oil; which the judicious Poet took well 〈◊〉 his Fancy. Excudent alii spirantia molliùs aera.  
But this generality is not sufficient to make 〈◊〉 good chooser, without a more particular contraction of his Judgement. Therefore when a Piece 〈◊〉 Art is set before us, let the first Caution be, not 〈◊〉 ask who made it, lest the Fame of the Author d●… Captivate the Fancy of the Buyer. For, that excellent men do always excellently, is a false Conclusion; whereupon I observe among Italian artisans, three notable Phrases, which well decipher the degrees of their Works.  
They will tell you, that a thing was done Con diligenza, Con study, and Con Amore; The first is but a bare and ordinary diligence, The second is a learned diligence; The third is much more, even a loving diligence: They mean not with love to the Bespeaker of the Work, but with a love and delight in the Work itself, upon some special Fancy to this, or that Story; And when all these concur (particularly the last) in an eminent author, Then perchance Tatianus fecit, or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 will serve the turn, without farther Inquisition; Otherwise artisans have not only their Growths and Perfections, but likewise their veins and Times.  
The next Caution must be (to proceed Logically) that in judging of the Work itself, we be not distracted with too many things at once; Therefore (first to begin with Picture:) we are to observe whether it be well drawn, (or as more elegant artisans term it) well designed; Then, whether it be well Coloured, which be the two general Heads; And each of them hath two principal Requisites; For in well Designing, there must be Truth and Grace; In well Colouring. Force and Affection; All other Praises are but Consequences of these.  
Truth (as we Metaphorically take it in this Art) is a Just and Natural Proportion in every Part of the determined Figure: Grace is a certain free Disposition in the whole Draught, answerable to that unaffected Frankness of Fashion in a living Body, Man or Woman, which doth animate Beauty where it is, and supply it, where it is not.  
Force consisteth in the Roundings and Raisings of the work, according as the Limbs do more or less require it; So as the Beholder shall spy no sharpness in the bordering Lines; As when tailors cut out a suit, which Italians do aptly term according to that comparison, Contorni taglienti; Not any flatness within the Body of the Figure, which how it is done, we must fetch from a higher Discipline; For the optics teach us, That a plain will appear prominent, and (as it were) embossed, if the Parts farthest from the axletree, or middle Beam of the Eye, shall be the most shadowed; because in all Darkness, there is a kind of Deepness. But as in the Art of persuasion, one of the most Fundamental Precepts is the concealment of Art; So here likewise, the Sight must be sweetly deceived by an insensible passage, from brighter colours to dimmer, which Italian artisans call the middle Tinctures; That is, Not as the whites and yolkes of Eggs lie in the Shell, with visible distinction; But as when they are beaten, and blended in a Dish, which is the nearest comparison that I can suddenly conceive.  
Lastly, Affection is the Lively Representment of any passion whatsoever, as if the Figures stood not upo●… a Cloth or Board, but as if they were acting upon 〈◊〉 Stage; And here I must remember, in truth wi●… much marvel, a note which I have received fro●… excellent artisans, that though Gladness a●… Grief be opposites in Nature; yet they are su●… Neighbours and Confiners in Art, that the least touch of a pencil will translate a crying into a laughing Face as it is represented by Homer in the person of Hector's wife; as Painters and Poets have always had a kind of congeniality, 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.—— That is,  
She took her Son into her Arms, weepingly laughing.   
Which Instance, besides divers other, doth often reduce unto my memory that ingenuous Speculation of the Cardinal Cusanus, extant in his Works, touching the coincidence of Extremes. And thus much of the four Requisites, and Perfections in Picture.  
In Sculpture likewise, the two first are absolutely necessary; The third impertinent; For Solid Figures need no elevation, by force of Lights, or shadows; Therefore in the Room of this we may put (as hath been before touched) a kind of Tenderness, by the Italians termed Morbidezza, wherein the Chizel, I must confess, hath more glory than the pencil; that being so hard an Instrument, and working upon so unpliant stuff, can yet leave Strokes of so gentle appearance.  
The Fourth, which is the expressing of Affection (as far as it doth depend upon the Activity and Gesture of the Figure) is as proper to the Carver, as to the Painter; though Colours, no doubt, have therein the greatest power; whereupon, perchance, did first grow with us the Fashion of colouring, even Regal Statues, which I must take leave to call an English barbarism.  
Now in these four Requisites already rehearsed, it is strange to note, that no artisan, having ever been blamed for excess in any of the three last; only Truth (which should seem the most Innocent) hath suffered some Objection; and all Ages have yielded, some one or two Artificers so prodigiously exquisite, that they have been reputed too Natural in their Draughts; which will well appear by a famous passage in Quintilian, touching the Characters of the ancient artisans, falling now so aptly into my memory, that I must needs translate it, as in truth it may well deserve.  
The place which I intent, is extant in the last Chapter▪ save one of his whole work, beginning thus in Latin;  
Primi, quorum quidem opera non vetustatis modo gratiâ visenda sunt clari Pictores, fuisse dicuntur Polygnotus atque Aglaophon, etc.  
The whole Passage in English standeth thus.  
THE first Painters of Name, whose work be considerable for any thing more than only Antiquity, are said to have been Polygnotus and Aglaophon; whose bare Colouring, he means I think in white and black, hath even yet so many followers, that those rude and first Elements, as it were of that, which within a while, became an Art, are preferred before the greatest Painters that have been extant after them, out of a certain Competition, as I conceive it, in point of judgement. After these, Zeuxes and Parasius, not far distant in age, both about the time of the Peloponnesian war, for in Xenophon we have a Dialogue between Parasius and Socrates, did add much to this Art. Of which the first is said to have invented the due disposition of Lights and Shadows; The second, to have more subtly examined the Truth of Lines in the Draught; for Zeuxes did make Limbs bigger than the life; deeming his Figures, thereby the more stately and Majestical; and therein, as some think, imitating Homer, whom the stoutest Form doth please, even in women. On the other side, Parasius did exactly limit all the Proportions so, as they call him the Lawgiver, because in the Images of the Gods, and of Heroical Personages, others have followed his Patterns like a Decree; But Picture did most flourish about the days of Philip, and even to the Successors of Alexander; yet by sundry Habilities: for Protogenes did excel in Diligence; Pamphilus and Melanthius in due Proportion; Antiphilus in a frank Facility; Theon of Samos, in strength of fantasy and conceiving of Passions; Apelles, in Invention and Grace, whereof he doth himself most vaunt; Euphranor deserves admiration, that being in other excellent Studies a principal Man, he was likewise a wondrous artisan, both in Painting and Sculpture. The like difference we may observe among the Statuaries; for the works of Calon and Egesias were somewhat stiff, like the Tuscan Manner; Those of Calamis not done with so cold strokes; And Myron more tender than the former; a diligent Decency in Polycletus above others; to whom though the highest praise be attributed by the most, yet lest he should go free from exception, some think he wanted solemnness; for as he may perchance he said to have added a comely Dimension to humane shape, somewhat above the truth; so on the other side, he seemed not to have fully expressed the Majesty of the Gods; Moreover, he is said not to have meddled willingly with the graver age, as not adventuring beyond smooth cheeks: But these virtues that were wanting in Polycletus, were supplied by Phidias and Alcmenes; yet Phidias was a better artisan in the representing of Gods, then of Men; and in his works of Ivory, beyond all emulation, even though he had left nothing behind him but his Minerva at Athens, or the Olympian Jupiter in Elis, whose Beauty seems to have added somewhat, even to the received Religion; the Majesty of the work; as it were, equalling the Deity. To Truth, they affirm Lysippus and Praxiteles, to have made the nearest approach: for Demetrius is therein reprehended, as rather exceeding then deficient; having been a greater aimer at Likeness, then at Loveliness.  
This is that witty Censure of the ancient artisans which Quintilian hath left us, where the la●… Character of Demetrius doth require a little Philosophical Examination; How an Artificer, whose end is the Imitation of Nature, can be too natural; which likewise in our days was either the fault, or (to speak more gently) the too much perfection of Albert Durer, and perhaps also of Micha●… Angelo da Buonaroti, between whom I have heard noted by an ingenuous artisan a pretty nice difference, that the Germane did too much express th●… which was; and the Italian, that which should be: Which severe Observation of Nature, by the one in her commonest, and by the other in her absolute●… Forms, must needs produce in both a kind of Rigidity, and consequently more Naturalness than Gracefulness: This is the clearest reason, why some exact Symmetrists have been blamed for being too true, as near as I can deliver my conceit. And so much touching the choice of Picture, and Sculpture: The next is, the application of both to the beautifying of fabrics.  
First therefore, touching Picture, there doth occur a very pertinent doubt, which hath been passed over too slightly, not only by some Men, but by some Nations; namely, whether this Ornament can well become the Outside of houses, wherein the Germans have made so little scruple, that their best Towns are the most painted, as Augusta and Norembergh. To determine this question in a word: It is true, that a Story well set out with a good Hand, will every where take a Judicious eye: But yet withal it is as true, that various colours on the Out-walls of Buildings have always in them more Delight than Dignity: Therefore I would there admit no Paintings but in Black and white, nor even in that kind any Figures (if the Room be capable) under Nine or Ten foot high, which will require no ordinary artisan; because the faults are more visible then in small Designs. In unfigured paintings the noblest is the imitation of Marbles, and of Architecture itself, as Arches, Treezes, Columns, and the like.  
Now for the Inside, here grows another doubt, wherein Grotesca (as the Italians) or Antique work (as we call it) should be received; against the express authority of Vitruvius himself, lib. 7. cap. 5. where Pictura (saith he) fit ejus, quod est, seu potest esse; excluding by this severe definition, all Figures composed of different Natures or Sexes; so as a Siren or a centaur had been intolerable in his eye: But in this we must take leave to departed from our Master; and the rather, because he spoke out of his own Profession, allowing Painters (who have ever been as little limited as Poets) a less scope in their imaginations, even than the gravest Philosophers, who sometimes do serve themselves of Instances that have no Existence in Nature; as we see in Plato's Amphisboena, and Aristotle's Hirco-Cervus. And (to settle this point) what was indeed more common and familiar among the Romans themselves, than the Picture and Statue of Terminus, even one of their Deities? which yet if we well consider, is but a piece of Grotesca; I am for these reasons unwilling to impoverish that Art, though I could wish such medley and motley Designs confined only to the Ornament of Freezes, and Borders, their properest place. As for other Storied work upon walls, I doubt our Clime be too yielding and moist for such Garnishment; therefore leaving it to the Dwellers discretion according to the quality of his Seat, I will only add a Caution or two about the disposing of Pictures within.  
First, That no Room be furnished with too many; which, in truth, were a surfeit of Ornament, unless they be Galleries, or some peculiar Repository for Rarities of Art.  
Next, that the best Pieces be placed not where there are the least, but where there are the fewest lights: therefore not only Rooms windowed on both ends, which we call through-lighted; but with two or more windows on the same side, are enemies to this Art: and sure it is, that no Painting can be seen in full perfection, but (as all Nature is illuminated) by a single Light.  
Thirdly, That in the placing there be some care also taken how the Painter did stand in the working, which an intelligent Eye will easily discover; and that posture is the most natural: so as Italian Pieces will appear best in a Room where the Windows are high, because they are commonly made to a descending Light, which of all other doth set off men's Faces in their truest spirit.  
Lastly, that they be as properly bestowed for their quality, as fitly for their grace: that is, cheerful Paintings in Feasting and Banqueting Rooms; Graver Stories in Galleries; landscapes and Boscage, and such wild works, in open terraces, or in Summer-houses (as we call them) and the like.  
And thus much of Picture; which let me close with this Note; that though my former Discourse may serve perchance for some reasonable leading in the choice of such delights; yet let no man hope by such a speculative erudition, to discern the Masterly and mysterious touches of Art, but an artisan himself; to whom therefore we must leave the prerogative to censure the manner and handling, as he himself must likewise leave some points, perchance of no less value to others; as for example, whether the Story be rightly represented, the Figures in true action, the persons suited to their several qualities, the affections proper and strong, and such like Observations.  
Now for Sculpture, I must likewise begin with a controversy, as before (falling into this Place;) or let me rather call it a very mere Fancy, strangely taken by Palladio, who having noted in an old Arch or two at Verona, some part of the Materials already cut in fine Forms, and some unpolished, doth conclude (according to his logic) upon this particular, that the Ancients did leave the outward Face of their Marbles or freestone without any Sculpture, till they were laid and cemented in the Body of the Building; For which likewise he findeth a reason, as many do now and then very wittily, even before the thing itself be true, that the Materials being left rough, were more manageable in the mason's hand, then if they had been smooth; And that so the sides might be laid together the more exactly; Which Conceit, once taken, he seems to have further imprinted, by marking in certain Storied Sculptures of old time, how precisely the Parts and Lines of the Figures that pass from one Stone to another, do meet; which he thinks could hardly fall out so right, forgetting while he speaks of ancient things, the ancient Diligence, unless they had been cut after the joining of the Materials. But all these Inducements cannot countervail the sole Inconvenience of shaking and disjointing the Commissures with so many Strokes of the Chizel, besides an Incommodious Working on Scaffolds; especially having no testimony to confirm it, that I have yet seen, among the records of Art: Nay, it is indeed rather true, that they did square, and carve, and polish their Stone and Marble Works, even in the very Cave of the Quarry before it was hardened by open Air: But, to leave disputation, I will set down a few Positive notes for the placing of Sculpture; because the choosing hath been handled before.  
That first of all, it be not too general and abundant, which would make a House look like a Cabinet: and in this point, moral Philosophy, which tempereth Fancies, is the Superintendent of Art.  
That especially, there be a due moderation of this Ornament in the first approach; where our Authors do more commend, I mean about the Principal Entrance, a Dorique, than a Corinthian garnishment; So as if the great Door be Arched with some brave Head, cut in fine Stone or Marble for the Key of the Arch, and two Incumbent Figures gracefully leaning upon it towards one another, as if they meant to confer, I should think this a sufficient Entertainment for the first Reception of any judicious Sight, which I could wish seconded with two great standing Statues on each side of a paved way that shall lead up into the fabric, so as the Beholder at the first entrance may pass his eye between them.  
That the Nices, if they contain Figures of white Stone or Marble, be not coloured in their Concavity too black, For though Contraria juxta so posita magis illucescunt (by an old Rule;) yet it hath been subtly, and indeed truly noted, that our Sight is not well contented with those sudden departments from one extreme to another: Therefore let them have rather a Duskish Tincture, than an absolute black.  
That fine and delicate Sculptures be helped with Nearness, and Gross with distance; which was well seen in the old controversy between Phidias and Alcmenes about the Statue of Venus: wherein the first did show discretion, and save labour, because the Work was to be viewed at good Height, which did drown the sweet and diligent strokes of his Adversary: A famous emulation of two principal artisans, celebrated even by the Greek Poets.  
That in the placing of standing Figures aloft, we must set them in a Posture somewhat bowing forward; because (saith our Master, lib. 3. cap. 3. out of a better Art than his own) the visual beam of our Eye, extended to the Head of the said Figures, being longer than to the Foot, must necessarily make that part appear farther; so as to reduce it to an erect or upright position, there must be allowed a due advantage of stooping towards us; which Albert Durer hath exactly taught in his forementioned Geometry. Our Vitruvius calleth this affection in the Eye, a resupination of the Figure: For which word (being in truth his own, for aught I know) we are almost as much beholding to him, as for the Observation itself: And let thus much summarily suffice touching the choice and use of these adorning Arts. For to speak of garnishing the fabric with a Row of erected Statues about the Cornice of every Contignation or Story, were discourse more proper for Athens or Rome, in the time of their true greatness, when (as Pliny recordeth of his own Age) there were near as many carved Images, as living Men; like a noble contention, even in point of Fertility, between Art and Nature; which passage doth not only argue an infinite abundance, both of artisans and Materials; but likewise of Magnificent and Majestical Desires in every common person of those times, more or less, according to their Fortunes. And true it is indeed, that the Marble Monuments and Memories of well-deserving Men, wherewith the very highways were strewed on each side, was not a bare and transitory Entertainment of the Eye, or only a gentle deception of Time to the Traveller: But had also a secret and strong Influence, even into the advancement of the Monarchy, by continual representation of virtuous Examples; so as in that points, ART became a piece of State.  
Now, as I have before subordinated Picture and Sculpture to Architecture, as their Mistress; so there are certain inferior ARTS likewise subordinate to them; As under Picture, Mosaique; under Sculpture, plastic: which too I only nominate, as the fittest to garnish fabrics.  
Mosaique; is a kind of Painting in small Pebbles, Cockles and shells of sundry colours; and of late days likewise with pieces of Glass figured at pleasure; an Ornament, in truth, of much beauty, and long life; but of most use in pavements and flooring.  
Plastic; is not only under Sculpture, but indeed very Sculpture itself: but with this difference; that the Plasterer doth make his Figures by Addition, and the Carver by Substraction; whereupon Michael Angelo was wont to say somewhat pleasantly, That Sculpture was nothing but a purgation of superfluities. For take away from a piece of wood or stone all that is superfluous, and the remainder is the intended Figure. Of this plastic Art, the chief use with us is in the graceful fretting of Rooss: But the Italians apply it to the mantling of Chimneys with great Figures. A cheap piece of Magnificence, and as durable almost within doors, as harder Forms in the weather. And here, though it be a little excursion, I cannot pass unremembered again, their manner of disguising the shafts of Chimneys in various fashions, whereof the noblest is the Pyramidal: being in truth a piece of Polite and Civil discretion, to convert even the conduits of foot and smoke into Ornaments; whereof I have hitherto spoken as far as may concern the Body of the Building.  
Now these are Ornaments also without, as Gardens, Fountains, Groves, Conservatories of rare Beasts, Birds, and Fishes. Of which ignoble●… kind of Creatures, We ought not, saith our greatest 
* Arist. lib. 1. cap. 5. de part. Anim. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Master among the Sons of Nature, childishly to despise the Contemplation; for in all things that are natural, there is ever something that is admirable. Of these external delights a word or two.  
First, I must note a certain contrariety between building and gardening: For as fabrics should be regular, so Gardens should be irregular, or at least cast into a very wild Regularity. To exemplify my conceit, I have seen a Garden, for the manner perchance incomparable, into which the first Access was a high walk like a terrace, from whence might be taken a general view of the whole Plot below, but rather in a delightful confusion, then with any plain distinction of the pieces. From this the Beholder descending many steps, was afterwards conveyed again by several mountings and valing, to various entertainments of his scent and sight: which I shall not need to describe, for that were poetical, let me only note this, that every one of these diversities, was as if he had been magically transported into a new Garden.  
But though other countries have more benefit of Sun than we, and thereby more properly tied to contemplate this delight; yet have I seen in our own, a delicate and diligent curiosity, surely without parallel among foreign Nations: Namely, in the Garden of Sir Henry Fanshaw, at his Seat in Ware-Park; where I well remember, he did so precisely examine the tinctures and seasons of his flowers, that in their settings, the inwardest of which that were to come up at the same time, should be always a little darker than the outmost, and so serve them for a kind of gentle shadow, like a piece, not of Nature, but of Art: which mention (incident to this place) I have willingly made of his Name, for the dear friendship that was long between us: though I must confess, with much wrong to his other virtues; which deserve a more solid Memorial, then among these vacant Observations. So much of Gardens.  
Fountains are figured, or only plain Water'dworks: Of either of which, I will describe a matchless pattern.  
The first, done by the famous hand of Michael Angelo da Buonaroti, in the figure of a sturdy woman, washing and winding of linen clothes; in which Act, she wrings out the water that made the Fountain; which was a graceful and natural conceit in the Artificer, implying this rule; That all designs of this kind, should be proper.  
The other doth merit some larger expression; There went a long, strait, mossy walk of competent breadth, green, and soft under foot, listed on both sides with an Aquaeduct of white stone, brest-high, which had a hollow Channel on the top, where ran a pretty trickling stream; on the edge whereof, were couched very thick all along, certain small pipes of lead, in little holes; so neatly, that they could not be well perceived, till by the turning of a cock, they did sprout over interchangeably from side to side, above man's height, in forms of Arches, without any interfection or meeting aloft, because the pipes were not exactly opposite; so as the Beholder, besides that which was fluent in the aqueducts on both hands in his view, did walk, as it were, under a continual Bower and Hemisphere of water, without any drop falling on him. An Invention for refreshment, surely far excelling all the Alexandrian Delicacies, and Pneumaticks of Hero.  
Groves, and artificial Devices under ground, are of great expense, and little dignity; which for my part, I could wish converted here into those Crypteria, whereof mention is made among the curious provisions of Tycho Brahe the Danish Ptolemy, as I may well call him: which were deep concaves in Gardens, where the Stars might be observed even at noon. For (by the way) to think that the brightness of the sun's body above, doth drown our discerning of the lesser lights, is a popular error; the sole impediment being that lustre, which by reflection, doth spread about us from the face of the Earth; so as the caves before touched, may well conduce, not to a delicious, but to a learned pleasure.  
In Aviaries of Wire, to keep Birds of all sorts, the Italians (though no wasteful Nation) do in some places bestow vast expense; including great scope of ground, variety of bushes, trees of good height, running waters, and sometime a Stove annexed, to contemper the Air in Winter. So as those Chanteresses, unless they be such as perhaps delight as much in their wing, as in their voice, may live long among so good provisions, and room, before they know that they are prisoners; reducing often to my memory that conceit of the Roman Stoic, who in comparison of his own free contemplations, did think divers great and splendent fortunes of his time, little more than commodious captivities.  
Concerning Ponds of pleasure near the habitation; I will refer myself to a grave Author of our own (though more illustrious by his other † work) namely, Sarisburiensis 
De nugis Curial, etc.  de Piscinâ.  
And here I will end the second part touching Ornaments, both within, and without the fabric.  
Now, as almost all those which have delivered the Elements of logic, do usually conclude with a Chapter touching Method: so I am here seized with a kind of critical spirit, and desirous to shut up these building Elements with some Methodical direction how to censure fabrics already raised: for indeed, without some way to contract our Judgement, which among so many particulars, would be lost by diffusion. I should think it almost harder to be a good Censurer, than a good Architect: Because the working part may be helped with Deliberation, but the Judging must flow from an extemporal habit. Therefore (not to leave this last Piece without some Light) I could with him that cometh to examine any nobler Work, first of all to examine himself, whether perchance the sight of many brave things before (which remain like impressed forms) have not made him apt to think nothing good but that which is the best; for this humour were too sour. Next, before he come to settle any imaginable opinion, let him by all means seek to inform himself precisely, of the Age of the Work upon which he must pass his Doom, And if he shall find the apparent decays to exceed the proportion of Time; then let him conclude wichout father inquisition, as an absolute Decree, that either the Materials were too slight, or the Seat is nought. Now, after these premises, if the House be found to beat his years well, (which is always a token of sound constitution) Then let him suddenly run backwards, (for the Method of censuring is contrary to the Method of composing) from the Ornaments (which first allure the Eye) to the more essential Members, till at last he be able to form this Conclusion, that the Work is Commodious, Firm, and delightful; which (as I said in the beginning) are the three capital Conditions required in good Buildings, by all Authors, both Ancient and Modern. And this is, as I may term it, the most Scientifical way of Censuring. There are two other which I must not forget: The first in Georgio Vassari, before his laborious Work of the lives of Architects, which is to pass a running examination over the whole Edifice, according to the properties of a well shapen Man. As whether the Walls stand upright upon clean footing and Foundation; whether the fabric be of a beautiful Stature; whether for the breadth it appear well burnished; whether the principal Entrance be on the middle Line of the Front or Face, like our Mouths; whether the Windows, as our Eyes, be set in equal number and distance on both sides; whether the Offices, like the Veins in our Bodies, be usefully distributed, and so forth. For this Allegorical review may be driven as far as any Wit will, that is at leisure.  
The second way is in Vitruvius himself, lib. 1. cap. 2. where he summarily determineth six Considerations, which accomplish this whole Art.  

Ordinatio.  
Dispositio.  
Eurythmia.  
Symmetria.  
Decor, and  
Distributio.   
Whereof (in my conceit) we may spare him the first two; for as far as I can perceive, either by his Interpreters, or by his own Text (which in that very place, where perchance he should be clearest, is of all other the cloudiest) he meaneth nothing by Ordination, but a well settling of the Model or Scale of the whole Work. Nor by Disposition, more than a neat and full expression of the first Idea or Designment thereof; which perchance do more belong to the Artificer, then to the Censurer. The other four are enough to condemn, or absolve any fabric whatsoever. Whereof Eurythmia is that agreeable Harmony between the breadth, length, and height of all the Rooms of the fabric, which suddenly, where it is, taketh every Beholder by the secret power of Proportion: wherein let me only note this, That though the least error or offence that can be committed against sight, is excess of height; yet that fault is no where of small importance, because it is the greatest offence against the Purse.  
Symmetria is the convenience that runneth between the Parts and the Whole, whereof I have formerly spoken.  
Decor is the keeping of a due Respect between the Inhabitant and the Habitation. Whence Palladius did conclude, that the principal Entrance was never to be regulated by any certain Dimensions, but by the dignity of the Master; yet to exceed rather in the more, then in the less, is a mark of Generosity, and may always be excused with some noble Emblem, or Inscription, as that of the Conte di Bavillacqua, over his large Gate at Verona, where perchance had Leen committed a little Disproportion. Patet janua, Cor magis.  
And here likewise I must remember our ever memorable Sir Philip Sidney, (whose Wit was in truth the very rule of Congruity) who well knowing that Basilius (as he had painted the State of his Mind) did rather want some extraordinary Forms to entertain his Fancy, than room for Courtiers; was contented to place him in a Starlike Lodge; which otherwise in severe judgement of Art, had been an incommodious Figure.  
Distributio is that useful Casting of all Rooms for Office, Entertainment, or Pleasure; which I have h●…ndled before at more length than any other Piece.  
These are the Four Heads which every man should run over, before he pass any determinate Censure upon the Works that he shall view, wherewith I will close this last part, touching Ornaments. Against which (I thinks) I hear an Objection, even from some well-meaning man; That these delightful Crafts, may be divers ways ill applied in a landlord. I must confess indeed, there may be a Lascivious, and there may be likewise a superstitious use, both of Pi●…ure and Sculpture: To which possibility of mis-application, not only these Semi-liberal Arts are subject but even the highest perfections and endowments of Nature. As Beauty in a light woman; Eloquence in a mutinous man; Resolution in an Assassinate; Prudent Observation of hours and humours, in a corrupt Courtier; Sharpness of wit and argument in a seducing Scholar, and the like. Nay, finally, let me ask what ART can be more pernicious, then even RELIGION itself, if itself be converted into an Instrument of ART: Therefore, Ab abuti ad non uti, negatur consequentia.  
Thus having stitched (in some sort) together these Animadversions touching Architecture, and the Ornaments thereof; I now feel that contemplative spirits are as restless as active, for doubting with myself, (as all weakness is jealous) that I may be thought to have spent my poor observation abroad about nothing but Stone and Timber, and such Rubbage; I am thereby led into an immodesty of proclaiming another Work, which I have long devoted to the service of my country: Namely, A Philosophical Survey of Education, which is indeed a second Building, or repairing of Nature, and as I may term it, a kind of Moral Architecture; whereof such Notes as I have taken in my foreign transcursions or abodes, I hope to utter without public offence, though still with the freedom of a plain Kentish-man. In the mean while, I have let these other glean fly abroad, like the Bird out of the Ark, to discover what footing may be for that which shall follow.  
FINIS.   

A Philosophical SURVEY OF EDUCATION, OR Moral Architecture.  
BY HENRY WOTTON Kt. PROVOST OF ETON college.   

THE Epistle Dedicatory TO THE KING.  
May it please your Majesty,  
I Need no other Motive to dedicate this Discourse, which followeth, unto your Majesty, than the very Subject itself, so properly pertaining to your sovereign Goodness: For thereby you are Pater Patriae. And it is none of the least Attributes wherewith God hath blessed both Your Royal Person, and Your People, that You are so. On the other side: for mine own undertaking thereof, I had need say more. I am old and childless; and though I were a Father of many, I could leave them nothing, either in Fortune, or in Example. But having long since put forth a slight Pamphlet about the Elements of ARCHITECTURE, which yet hath been entertained with some pardon among my Friends, I was encouraged even at this age, to assay how I could build a Man: For there is a Moral, as well as a Naturaler Artificial Compilement, and of be●…er Materials: Which truly I have cemented together rather in t●… plain Tuscan (as our VITRUVIUS termeth 〈◊〉 then in the Corinthian form. Howsoever, if Yo●… Majesty be graciously pleased to approve any part of it, who are so excellent a judge in all kind of Structure, I shall much glory in mine own Endeavour. If otherwise, I will be one of the first myself, that shall pull it in pieces, and condemn it to Rubbage and ruin. And so wishing Your Majesty (as to the Best of Kings) a longer Life than any of the soundest Works of Nature or Art, I ov●… rest  
Your majesty's  
Most devoted poor Subject, and Servant,  
H. WOTTON.   

A SURVEY OF EDUCATION.  
THis Treatise (well may it now proceed) having since the first Conception thereof been often traversed with other thoughts, yea and sometimes utterly forsaken, I have of late resumed again, out of hope (the common flatterer) to find at least some indulgent interpretation of my pains; especially in an honest Endeavour of such public consequence as this is above all other. For if any shall think Education (because it is conversant about Children) to be but a private and domestic duty; He will run some danger, in my opinion, to have been ignorantly bred himself. Certain it is, that anciently the best composed Estates did commit this care more to the Magistrate then to the Parent. And certain likewise, That the best Authors have chosen rather to handle it in their politics, then in their economics. As both Writers and Rulers well knowing what a stream and influence i●… hath into Government. So great indeed, and so diffusive, that albeit good Laws have been reputed always the Nerves or Ligaments of humane Society; Yet are they (be it spoken with the peace of those grave Professors) no way comparable in their effects to the rules of good Nurture: For it is in civil, as it is in natural Plantations, where young tender trees (though subject to the injuries of Air, and in danger even of their own Flexibility) would yet little want any after-underproppings and shoaring, if they were at first well fastened in the root.  
Now my present labour will (as I foresee) consist of these pieces.  
First, there must proceed a way how to discern the Natural Capacities and inclinations of children.  
Secondly, Next must ensue the culture and furnishment of the Mind.  
Thirdly, the moulding of behaviour, and decent forms.  
Fourthly, the tempering of affections.  
Fifthly, the quickening and exciting of Observations and practical Judgement.  
Sixthly, And the last in Order, but the principal in Value, being that which must knit and consolidate all the rest, is the timely instilling of conscientious Principles and seeds of Religion.  
These six branches will, as I conceive, embrace the whole business: through which I shall run in as many several Chapters or Sections: But before I launch from the shores, let me resolve a main question which may be cast in my way; Whether there be indeed such an infallible efficacy, as I suppose, in the care of Nurture and first Production; For if that supposal should fail us, all our Anchorage were lose, and we should but wander in a wild Sea.  
Plutarch, I remember to the same purpose, in the first of his Tractates, which place this subject well deserved, endeavoureth by sundry similitudes, where in that man had a prompt and luxurious fancy, to show us the force of Education; All which, in sooth, might have been well forborn, had he but known what our own countrymen have of late time disclosed among their Magnetical Experiments. There they tell us, that a rod or bar of iron having stood long in a window, or elsewhere, being thence taken, and by the help of a cork or the like thing, being balanced in water, or in any other liquid substance where it may have a free mobility, will bewray a kind of unquietude and discontentment till it attain the former position. Now it is pretty to note, how in this Natural Theorem is involved a Moral conclusion of direct moment to the point we have in hand.  
For if such an unpliant and stubborn mineral as Iron is above any other, will acquire by mere continuance a secret appetite, and (as I may term it) an habitual inclination to the site it held before. Then how much more may we hope, through the very same means, (Education being nothing else but a constant plight and enurement) to induce by custom good habits into a reasonable creature? And so having a little smoothed my passage, I may now go on to the Chapters.   

THE FIRST CHAPTER OR SECTION; Touching the Search of Natural Capacities and Inclinations.  
OF the two things propounded in this Chapter, I must begin with Capacities; For the manurement of Wits is like that of soils, where before either the pains of Tilling, or the charge of Sowing, Men use to consider what the mould will bear, Heath or Grain. Now this peradventure at the first view, may seem in Children a very slight and obvious enquiry; That age being so open and so free, and yet void of all Art to disguise or dissemble either their appetites, or their defects: Notwithstanding, we see it every day, and every where subject to much error; Partly by a very pardonable facility in the Parents themselves, to overprize their own Children, while they behold them through the vapours of affection which altar the appearance; as all things seem bigger in misty mornings. Nay, even strangers, and the most dis●…nteressed persons, are yet, I know not how, commonly inclined to a favourable conceit of little ones: so cheap a thing it is to bestow nothing but Hope. There is likewise on the other side, as often failing by an Undervaluation; for in divers Children their ingenerate and seminal powers (as I may term them) lie deep, and are of slow disclosure; no otherwise then in certain Vegetables, which are long before they shoot up and appear, and yet afterwards both of good and great increase; which may serve to excite care, and to prevent despair in Parents: for if their Child be not such a speedy spreader and brancher, like the Vine, yet perchance he may prove proles tarde crescentis Olivae; and yield, though with a little longer expectation, as useful, and more sober fruit then the other. And, I must confess, I take some delight in these kind of comparisons; remembering well what I have often heard my truly Noble, and most dear Nephew, Sir Edmund Bacon, say, out of his exquisite Contemplations, and Philosophical Practice: That Nature surely (if she be well studied) is the best Moralist, and hath much good Counsel hidden in her bosom.  
Now here then will lie the whole business, to set down beforehand certain Signatures of Hopefulness, or Characters, (as I will rather call them, because that Word hath gotten already some entertainment among us) whereby may be timely descried what the Child will prove in probability. These Characters must necessarily be either impressed in the outward person, like stamps of Nature, or must otherwise be taken from some emergent act of his mind; wherein of the former sort.  
The first is that which first incurreth into sight; namely, the Child's colour or complexion, (as we vulgarily term it) and thence perchance some judgement of the predominant humour.  
The next is the structure, and conformation of the limbs.  
And the third is a certain spirituous resultance from the other two, which makes the countenance.  
The second kind of these Characters (which are rather mental then personal) be of such variety (because minds are more active than bodies) that I purpose, for the plainest delivery, to resolve all my gatherings touching both kinds, iuto a rhapsody of several Observations: For I dare not give them the Authoritative Title of Aphorisms; which yet, when I shall have mustered them, if their own strength be considered rather in troop then singly, as they say, by Pole, may perchance make a reasonable Mor●… prognostic.  

The Observations.  
THere are in the course of humane life, from our Cradles upward, certain Periods, or Degrees of change, commonly (as the Ancients have noted) every seven years, whereof the two first Septynaries, and half of the third, or thereabouts, I will call the Obsequious age, apt to imbibe all manner of impressions: which time of the suppleness of Obedience is to be plied by Parents, before the stiffness of Will come on too fast.  
There is no Complexion, or Composition in Children, either privileged from bad proof, or prejudiced from good. Always I except prodigious Forms, and mere natural Impotencies, which are unmanageable In toto Genere, and no more to be cultivated then the sands of Arabia.  
More ordinary Imperfections and Distortions of the Body in Figure, are so far from excluding all hope, that we usually see them attended with some notable Compensation one way or other, whereof our own time hath produced with us no slight Example in a great Minister of State, and many other.  
I am yet willing to grant, that generally in Nature, the best outward shapes are also the likeliest to be consociated with good inward faculties: for this Conclusion hath somewhat from the Divine Light: since God himself made this great World (whereof Man is the little Model) of such Harmonious Beauty in all the parts, to be the Receptacle of his perfectest Creature.  
Touching such Conjectures as depend on the Complexions of Children: Albeit I make no question but all kind of Wits and Capacities may be found under all Tinctures and Integuments; yet I will particularly describe one or two with some preference, though without prejudice of the rest.  
The first shall be a Palish Clearness, evenly and smoothly spread, not overthin and washy, but of a ●retty solid consistence; from which equal distribution of the Phlegmatic Humour, which is the pro●er allay of fervent blood, I am want to hope where I see it) will flow a future quietude and serenitude in the Affections, and a discreet sweetness and moderation in the Manners; not so quick perchance of conceit, as slow to passion; and commonly less inventive, then judicious: howsoever, for the most part, proving very plausible, insinuan●… and fortunate men.  
The other is, the pure sanguine Melancholic Tincture, wherein I would wish five parts of the first to three of the second; that so there may be the greater portion of that which must illuminate and enrich the Fancy, and yet no scant of the other, to fix and determine the Judgement: for surely the right natural definition of a wise Habit, is nothing else but a plentifulness and promptness in the Store house of the Mind of clear Imaginations well fixed.  
Marcilius Ficinus (the deep Florentine Platonic) increaseth these proportions, requiring eight to two in the foresaid Humours; and withal, adding two more of pure Choler: But of that I shall spea●… more among the inward Motions, purposely her●… forbearing it, where I only contemplate the superficial Appearance.  
In the outward frame and fabric of the Body, which is the next object after Complexion. An erect and forward stature, a large breast, neat and pliant joints, and the like, may be good significants of health, of strength, or agility, but are very foreign Arguments of Wit: I will therefore only say somewhat of the Head and Eye, as far as may conduce to my present scope.  
The Head in a Child I wish great and round, which is the capablest Figure, and the freest from all restraint and compreshon of the parts: For since in the Section of Bodies, we find Man, of all sensible Creatures, to have the fullest Brain to his proportion, and that it was so provided by the Supreme Wisdom, for the lodging of the intellective Faculties: It must needs be a silent Character of Hope, when, in the Oeconomical Providence of Nature, (as I may term it) there is good store of roomage and receipt where those powers are stowed: As commonly we may think Husbanding men to foresee their own Plenty, who prepare beforehand large Barns and Garnaries. Yet Thucydides (anciently one of the excellentest Wits in the learnedst part of the World) seems (if Marcellinus in his life have well described him) to have been somewhat Taper-headed, as many of the genovesers are at this day in common Observation, who yet be a People of singular Sagacity: yea, I call not impertinently to mind, that one of my time in Venice, had Wit enough to become the Civil Head of that grave republic, who yet for the littleness of his own natural Head, was surnamed Il Donato Testolina. But the Obtrusion of such particular Instances as these, are unsufficient to disauthorize a Note grounded upon the final intention of Nature.  
The Eye in Children (which commonly let them roll at pleasure) is of curious observation, especially in point of discovery: For it loveth, or hateth, before we can discern the heart; it consenteth, or denieth, before the tongue; it resolveth, or runeth away before the feet: nay, we shall often mark in it a dulness, or apprehensiveness, even before the understanding. In short, it betrayeth in a manner the whole state of the Mind, and ●…etteth out all our fancies and passions as it were by a window. I shall therefore require in that Organ, without Poetical Conceits, (as far as may concern my purpose, be the colour what it will) only a settled vivacity, nor wand'ring, nor stupid; yet, I must confess, I have known a number of dul-sighted, very sharpwitted men.  
The truth is, that if in these external marks, o●… signatures, there be any certainty, it must be taken from that which I have formerly called, The tot●… Resultance. By which, what I mean, I shall more properly explain in the third Section, when I come to handle the general air of the person and carriage. I will now hasten to those more solid and conclusive Characters, which, as I have said, are emergent from the Mind; and which often times do start out of Children when themselves lea●… think of it: for, let me tell you, Nature is Prod●… torious.  
And first I must begin with a strange Note: That a Child will have Tantum ingenij quantum irae; That is, in my construction, as much wit as he hath waywardness. This Rule we have cited by a very 
* Cap●…  Learned man, somewhere out of Seneca, and exemplified by Angelus Politianus (none of the meanest critics) who writing the life of Pietro de Medici, concludeth, That he was likely to prove a Wise man, because he was a froward Boy. Truly, I have been many times tempted to wonder, notwithstanding the value of these Authors, How so disordinate a Passion seated in the Heart, and boiling in the blood, could betoken 〈◊〉 good constitution of the Brain, which, above any other, is, or should be, the coldest part: But because all sudden motions must necessarily imply 〈◊〉 quick apprehension of the first stirring cause, and that the dullest of other creatures are the latest offended, I am content for the present to yield i●… some credit  
We have another, somewhat of the same mould from Quintilian, (whom I have ever thought, since any use of my poor judgement, both the elegantest and soundest of all the Roman Pens) That a Child will have Tantum ingenii, quantum memoriae: This, I must confess, will bear a stronger Consequence of Hope; for Memory is not only considerable as it is in itself a good Retention, but likewise as it is an infallible Argument of good Attention; a point of no small value in that Age, which a fair Orange, or a red Apple will divert.  
There is yet another in the same Writer, and in the same place, where he handleth this very theme. How to descry Capacities: That Parents should mark, whether their Children be naturally apt to imitate; wherewith certainly all fine fancies are caught, and some little less than ravished. And we have a Tradition of Quintilian himself, that when he saw any well-expressed Image of grief, either in Picture, or Sculpture, he would usually weep: For, being a Teacher of Oratory in School, he was perhaps affected with a passionate Piece of Art, as with a kind of mute Eloquence. True it is indeed, which a great Master hath long before taught 
Aristotle in Rhetoricis.  us, That Man is of all Creatures the most Mimical, as a kind of near adjunct to Reason: Arguing necessarily in those that can do it well, whether it be in Gestures, in Styles, in Speech, in Fashion, in Accents, or howsoever, no shallow Impression of Similitudes and Differences; about which, in effect, is conversant the whole Wisdom of the World.  
Besides these, I would wish Parents to mark heedfully the witty Excuses of their Children, especially at Suddains and surprisals; but rather to mark then pamper them, for that were otherwise to cherish untruth: whereof I shall speak more in the Final Section.  
Again are to be observed not only his own crafty and pertinent Evasions, but likewise with what kind of Jests, or pleasant Accidents he is most taken in others; which will discover the very degree of his apprehension, and even reach as far as to the censuring of the whole Nations, whether they be flat and dull, or of quick capacity: For surely, we have argument enough at this day to conclude, the Ancient Grecians an Ingenious People; of whom the Vulgar sort, such as were haunters of theatres, took pleasure in the Conceits of Aristophanes; reserving my judgement to other place upon the filthy Obscenities of that and other Authors, well arguing among Christians, when all is said, that the Devil is one of the wittiest.  
Again, it shall be sit to note, how prettily the Child himself doth manage his pretty pastimes: This may well become an ordinary Parent, to which so great an Emperor as Augustus descended in the highest of his State, and gravest of his Age, who collected (as Suetonius tells us) out of all the known World, especially from the Syrians and Moors, (where, by the way, we may note, who were then reputed the sharpest Nations) little Boys of the rarest Festivity, to play before him at their ordinary Sports. And indeed there is much to be noted, worthy of a sadder judgement in the Wiliness of that Age.  
Again, I would have noted in Children, not only their Articulate Answers, but likewise certain smiles and frowns upon incident Occasions; which though they be dumb and light passions, will discover much of that inward power which moveth them; especially when withal they lighten or cloud the whole face in a moment.  
Lastly, let not his very Dreams be neglected; for, without question, there is a great Analogy between those Apprehensions which he hath taken by day into his Fancy, and his nocturnal Impressions; particularly in that Age, which is not yet troubled with the fumes and cares of the World; so as the Soul hath a freer and more defecated Operation: And this is enough for the disclosing of a good Capacity in the popular way which I have followed, because the Subject is general.  
Now for the second Part of this Chapter, touching Inclinations: for after we know how far a Child is capable, the next will be to know unto what course he is naturally most inclined. There must go before a main research, whether the Child that I am to manage, be of a good nature or no; as the same term is vulgarly taken, for an ingenious and tractable disposition: which being a fundamental Point, and the first root of all virtuous Actions, and though round about in every mother's mouth, yet a thing which will need very nice and narrow Observation: I have spent some diligence in collecting certain private Notes, which may direct this Inquiry.  
First, therefore, when I mark in Children much solitude and silence, I like it not, nor any thing born before his time, as this must needs be in that sociable and exposed Age, as they are for the most part. When either alone, or in company, they sit still without doing of any thing, I like it worse; for surely all dispositions to Idleness, or Vacancy, even before they grow habits, are dangerous: and there is commonly but a little distance in time between doing of nothing, and doing of ill.    

THE APHORISMS OF EDUCATION.  

Time is the plainest Legend, and every day a leaf is turned.  
IF we look abroad, we shall see many proceed yearly out of the Schools of Experience, whereas few, in comparison, are commended unto Degrees by us: indeed the multitude of those Schools infinitely exceeding our numbers; but especially because the means which they follow are far more obvious and easy. Libraries and Lectures profiting none, but such as bring some measure of understanding with them; but the Occurrents of the World being easily entertained by the weakest capacities, assisted only with common sense: neither therefore is this Legend of time to be contemned by those whose Wits are more pregnant, or Studies furnished with greatest choice. The Students of Common Law manifest the benefit arising from the use thereof; who as by reading their Year Books they recover the Experience by former Ages: so by daily repair to the Courts of Justice, they suffer nothing of the present to pass unobserved. And I note, That whereas foreign Universities (in conferring Degrees) regard merely the performance of some solemn exercise: ours further require a certain expense of time, supposing (as I conceive) that howsoever exercise of form may be deceitfully dispatched of course: yet that he who lives some space among the assiduous advantages and helps of knowledge, (except he be of the Society of the Antipodes, who turn night into day, and take no notice of what is done) cannot choose but receive so much upon ordinary observation, as may make him Master of some Art; which frequent opportunities, as they happily add something to those who are but idle lookers on, so, no doubt, they must advance perfection in those who are more studiously observant; every day presenting their Judgements with matters examinable by the precepts they read, and most producing to their inventions, occurrents fit for further inquiry.   

Every Nature is not a fit Stock to graft a scholar on.  
THe Spaniard (that wrote the Trial of Wits) undertakes to show what Complexion is fit for every Profession. I will not disable any for proving a scholar; nor yet dissemble that I have seen many happily forced upon that course, to which by nature they seemed much indisposed. Sometimes the possibility of preferment prevailing with the credulous, expectation of less expense with the covetous, opinion of ease with the fond, and assurance of remoteness with the unkind parents, have moved them, without discretion, to engage their children in adventures of Learning, by whose return they have received but small contentment: But they who are deceived in their first designs, deserve less to be condemned, as such who (after sufficient trial) persist in their wilfulness are no way to be pitied. I have known some who have been acquainted (by the complaints of Governors, clamours of Creditors, and confessions of their Sons) what might be expected from them, yet have held them in with strong hand, till they have desperately quit, or disgracefully forfeited the places where they lived. Deprived of which, they might hope to avoid some misery, if their Friends, who were so careful to bestow them in a college when they were young, would be so good as to provide a room for them in some Hospital when they are old.   

He seldom speeds well in his course, that stumbles at his setting forth.  
I Have ever been unwilling to hear, and careful not to utter predictions of ill success; Oracles proceeding as well from Superstitious ignorance, as curious Learning: and what I deliver in these words, occasioned by examples past, I desire may be applied for prevention rather than prejudice to any hereafter. To the same eff●…t I heard a discreet Censor lesson a young scholar, negligent at his first entrance to the Elements of logic and Philosophy, telling him, That a Child starved at nurse, would hardly prove an able man. And I have known some who attended with much expectation at their first appearing, have stained the Maidenhead of their Credit with some negligent performance, fall into irrecoverable dislike with others, and hardly escape despair of themselves. They may make a better excuse, but not hope for more favour, who can impute the fault of their inauspicious attempts some where else; a circumstance necessarily to be considered where punishment is 〈◊〉: but where reward is proposed for worth, it is as usually detained from those who could not, as from those who cared not to deserve it.   

The way to knowledge by Epitomies is too straight, by Commentaries too much about.  
IT is sufferable in any to use what liberty they list in their own manner of Writing, but the contracting and extending the lines and sense of others, if the first Authors might speak for themselves, would appear a thankless office; and if the Readers did confer with the Originals, they would confess they were not throughly or rightly informed. Epitomies are helpful to the memory, and of good private use, but set forth for public Monuments, accuse the industrious Writers of delivering much impertinency, and divert many to close and shallow cisterns, whose leisure might well be acquainted with more deep and open springs. In brief, what I heard sometimes spoken of Ramus, I believe of those thrifty Compendiums; They show a short c●…urse to those who are contented to know a little, and a sure way to such whose care is not to understand much. Commentaries are guilty of the contrary extreme, stifling the Text with infinite additions, and serving those conceits from the words, which, if the Authors were set on the Rack, they would never acknowledge. He who is discreet in bestowing his pains, will suspect those places to be desert and barren, where the way cannot be found without a guide; and leave curiosity in inquest of obscurities, which, before it receive content, doth lose or tyre itself with digressions.   

Discretion is the most universal Art, and hath more Professors than Students.  
DIscretion, as I understand it, consists in the useful knowledge of what is fit and comely; of necessary direction in the practice of moral duties, but most esteemed in the composing and framing civil behaviour: men ordinarily being better content to be dishonest, then to be conscious to themselves that they are unmannerly. Few study it, because it is attained rather by a natural felicity, then by any endeavour or pains; and many profess it, presuming on sufficiency to censure others: and as unable to discern themselves, concerning their own defects, as unaccustomed to be rightly informed. It little concerns men indifferent what we do in that kind; and our friends are either nothing offended therewith, or unwilling to offend us with their relation: our enemies seldom speak of it in our hearing; and when we hear, we as hardly believe them.   

They who travel far, easily miss their way.  
TRavel is reputed a proper means to create men wise, and a possible to make them honest, because it forces circumspectness on those abroad, who at home are nursed in security; and persuadeth good behaviour and temperance to such, who (far from friends and means) are willing to have little to do with the Lawyer or Physician. Men coming into other Countries, as if born into a strange world, with some discretion above them, which teacheth both to distrust others, and keep themselves sober; and to s●…ift off those homely fashions which Nature and custom in their years of simplicity had put on them. But these effects are not general, many receiving more good in their Bodies by the tossing of the Ship, whilst they are at Sea, than benefit in their Minds by breathing in a foreign Air, when they come to landlord. Yet they are as desirous men should observe they have traveled, as careful in their travels to observe nothing; and therefore if they be not able to make it known by their relation and discourse, it shall appear by their clothes and gesture: Some attain to greater perfection, being able to show at what charge they have seen other places, by their excellency in some other rare vices, or irregularity in strange opinions. As the times are, he is commended that makes a saving Voyage, and lest discredits his Travels, who returns the same man he went.   

Somewhat of the Gentleman gives a tincture to a scholar, too much stains him.  
HE who advised the Philosopher (altogether devoted to the Muses) sometimes to offer Sacrifice at the Altars of the Graces, thought knowledge to be imperfect without Behaviour, which experience confirms, able to show, that the want thereof breeds as much disrespect to many scholars with the Observers of Ceremonies, as improper affectation moves distaste in some substantial judgements. Indeed slovenliness is the worst sign of a hard Student, and civility the best exercise of the remiss: yet not to be exact in the phrase of compliment, or gestures of courtesy, the indifferent do pardon to those who have been otherwise busied; and rather deride, then applaud such, who think it perfection enough to have a good outside, and happiness to be seen amongst those who have better; pleasing themselves more in opinion of some proficiency, in terms of hunting or horsemanship, which few that are studious understand, than they blush to be known ignorant in that which every man ought to know: To which vanity I have known none more inclined, than those whose birth did neither require, nor fortunes encourage them to such costly idleness; who at length made sensible by necessity, haply have the grace to repent, but seldom times the gift to recover.   

Books and Friends are better received by weight then number.  
THe necessities of Life do warrant multitude of employments, and the variety of Nature's excuse the diversity of delights: but to my discretion that course seems most desirable, whose business occasions no further trouble, nor leisure requires other Recreations than may indifferently be entertained with Books and Friends. They are indeed happy who meet with such whom they may trust in both kinds; and undoubtedly wise, that can well apply them: the imperfect apprehension and misuse never producing any good effect: For so we see capacious understandings (by continual inquiry and perusal of all sorts of Authors) thrive no better in their knowledge then some men of good disposition (addicted generally to acquaintance) are gainers by the reckoning, when they cast up their expense of time; the hunger of the one breedeth a Consumption, and the others thirst not determining but by some humorous Disease: nay, they who seem to respect choice, sometimes err perniciously: Which the French man observed, who maintained his Country was much the worse by old men's studying the venom of Policy, and young men's reading the dregs of Fancy. And it is manifest that in our little Commonwealth of Learning, much disparagement is occasioned, when able Spirits (attracted by familiarity) are inflamed with Faction, and good Natures (carried away with the stream of more pleasant company) are drowned in good Fellowship.   

Love that observes Formality is seated rather in the brain, then in the heart.  
BY formality, I mean something more than ceremony and compliment (which are the gesture and phrase of dissemblers,) even a solemn reservedness, which may well consist with honesty: not but that I admire a constant gravity, which upon no assurance will bewray the least imperfection to any: but confess, I am far from suspecting simplicity, which (careful to observe more real duties towards all) is bold to trespass in points of Decorum amongst some, which without blushing could not be confessed to others. A sign, from whence the greatest Reasoner draws an Argument of good affection, which (as divine Charity covers many offences) in the experience of common humanity is content to dispense with. And although Policy shows it to be the safest course to give advantage to none, yet an ingenuous nature thinks that he is scarce able to distinguish betwixt an enemy and a friend, that stands wholly upon his own guard.   

An enemy is better recovered by great kindness, than a friend assured.  
THere are some relics of goodness found even in the worst natures, and out of question seeds of evil in those who are esteemed best; whence it may appear less strange, that hearts possessed with rancour and malice, are overcome with beneficence, and minds otherwise well qualified, prove sometimes ungrateful; the one forced to confess satisfaction received far more than was due; the other to acknowledge a debt of greater value than they are able to pay; howsoever, smaller courtesies seem not visible, great ones inducing an obligation upon public Record.   

The sincerest Liberality consists in refusing, and the most innocent Thrift in saving.  
THe bestowing of gifts is more glorious than the refusing of bribes; because gifts are commonly delivered in public, whereas men use not to confess what they own, or offer what they ought not, before witnesses. Bu●… in true estimation, it is as honourable a virtue not to receive, as to disperse benefits; it being of greater merit wholly to abstain from things desirable, then after fruiti●… to be content to leave them; as they who magnify single life, prefer Virginity much before Widowhood. Yet some (in whom this kind of bounty is little observed) are unworthily censured for keeping their own, whom tenderness how to get honestly teacheth to spend discreetly; where●… such need no great thriftiness in preserving their own, w●… assume more liberty in exacting from others.   

Commendations proceeding from subtlety, captive the Object; from Simplicity, the Author.  
THere is a skill to purchase, and pay debts only with fair words, drawing on good offices, and requiti●… them with Commendations; the felicity whereof hath made Flattery the most familiar rhetoric, a leaving the old method of persuasion, by insinuating the worth of him who desires to receive; and with more ease raising a self conceit in the man who is apt to swallow such light Bribery, and not often indisposed to digest unthankefulness so curiously seasoned. But it is no great inconvenience that kindness should be bestowed gratis, or upon cheap conditions; the loss is, when men of plain meaning adventure on the exchange and use of this coin, who, forward to profess their belief, engage the credit of their wisdom on the behaviour of such, whose actions are not within their power, and become bound in suretyship, without the help of a Scrivener: which inconsiderate affection makes many earnest Speakers in defence of injuries done to others, and silent Patients of wrongs unexpectedly befalling themselves; desire to make good their error, pressing their tongues to so unjust service; or care to dissemble it, debarring them from the general liberty of poor complaint.   

Expectation prepareth applause with the weak, and prejudice with the stronger Judgements.  
THe fashion of commending our friends abilities before they come to trial, sometimes takes good effect with ●…he common sort, who, building their belief on Authority, ●…rive to follow the conceit of their betters; but usually ●…mongst men of independent judgements, this bespeaking of ●…pinion, breeds a purpose of stricter examination; and if ●…he report be answered, procures only a bare acknowledge●…ent; whereas if nothing be proclaimed or promised, they ●…re perhaps content to signify their own skill in testifying ●…others desert: otherwise great wits, jealous of their ●…redit, are ready to suppress worth in others, to the ad●…ancing of their own, and (if more ingenuous) no far●…er just, then to forbear detraction; at the best rather ●…sposed to give praise upon their own accord, then to make ●…ayment upon demand or challenge.   

The testimony of sufficiency is better entertained then the report of Excellency.  
THe nature of some places necessarily requires 〈◊〉 competently endowed, but where there is choice none think the appointment to be a duty of Justice bound respect the best desert: nay, the best conceive it a work free bounty, which men of mean qualities are likely to ●…knowledge, and the worldly make it a business of pro●… unto which the most deserving are lest apt to subscrib●…. But besides these unlucky influences from above, this 〈◊〉 success may be occasioned either by the too great confide●… of those who hope to rise, or the jealous distrust of s●… are already raised, whilst they too much presuming 〈◊〉 their own desert, neglect all auxiliary strength, these s●…pecting some diminution to their own, stop the passage another's worth; that being most certain, Alterius vi●…tuti invidet, qui diffidit suae.   

He that appears often in the same place, gets li●… ground in the way to credit.  
FAmiliar and frequent use, which makes things (first ungrateful) by continuance pleasing or tole●…ble, takes away the lustre from more excellent obje●… and reduceth them from the height of admiration, u●… low degrees of neglect, dislike, and contempt; 〈◊〉 were not strange, if it wrought only among the Vul●… whose opin on (like their stomaches) is overcome wit●…●…tiety, or men of something a higher stage, the edge 〈◊〉 whose sight is abated and dulled by long gazing; but 〈◊〉 same entertainment is given by the Judicious and Learn●… either because they observe some defects, which at 〈◊〉 sight are less visible; or the Actors in this kind betray weakness in their latter attempts, usually straining so high at first, that they are not able to reach again in the rest; or by this often obtrusion not required, discover a good conceit of their own Graces; and men so well affected to themselves are generally so happy, as to have little cause to complain of Corrivals.   

The Active man riseth not so well by his strength, as the expert by his stirrup.  
THey that climb towards preferment or greatness by their own virtue, get up with much ado and very slowly; whereas such as are raised by other means, usually ascend lightly and appear more happy in their sudden advancements, sometimes by the only strength of those who stand above, exercising their power in their dependants commonly by subordinate helps and assistance, which young men happily obtain from the commendations of friends, old men often compass by the credit of their wealth, who have a great advantage in that they are best able to purchase, and likely soon to leave the room.   

Few men thrive by one only Art, fewer by many.  
AMongst Tradesmen of meaner sort, they are not poorest, whose Shop windows open over a red lettuce; and the wealthiest Merchants employ Scriveners for security at home, as much as Factors for their advantage abroad, both finding not more warrantable gains by negotiating with the industrious, then profitable returns by dealing with unthrifts. The disposition of the time, hath taught this wisdom to more ingenuous professions, which are best entertained when they come accompanied with some other respects, whence preciseness is become a good habit to plead in, and Papistry a privy commendation to the practice of physic, contentious Zeal making most clients, and sensual Superstition yielding the best Patients. They who are intent by divers means to make progress in their estate, cannot succeed well, as he that would run upon his hands and feet makes less speed than one who goes as nature taught him; the untoward moving of some unskilful parts, hindering the going forward of those which are better disposed.   

It is good to profess betimes, and practise at leisure.  
THere is a saying, That the best choice is of an old Physician and a young Lawyer: The reason supposed, because where errors are fatal, ability of judgement and moderation are required; but where advantages may be wrought upon, diligence and quickness of wit are of more special use. But if it be considered who are generally most esteemed, it will appear, that opinion of the multitude sets up the one, and the favour of Authority upholds the other; yet in truth, a man's age and time are of necessary regard, such of themselves succeeding best, who in these or any other professions, neither defer their resolution too long, nor begin their practice too soon; whereas ordinarily, they who are immaturely adventurous, by their iusufficiency hurt others; they who are tedious in deliberation, by some improvidence hinder themselves.   

Felicity shows the ground where Industry builds a Fortune.  
ARchimedes the great Engineer (who in defending Syracuse against Marcellus, shown wonderful Experiments of his extraordinary skill,) was bold to say, That he would remove the world out of his place, if he had elsewhere to set his foot. And truly I believe so far, that otherwise he could not do it: I am sure, so much is evident in the Architecture of Fortunes; in the raising of which the best Art or endeavour is able to do nothing, if it have not where to lay the first stone; for it is possible with the like skill to raise a frame when we have matter; but not to create something out of nothing: the first being the ordinary effect of industry, this only of Divine Power. Indeed, many from very mean beginnings have aspired to very eminent place, and we usually ascribe it to their own worth, which no doubt in some is great; yet as in Religion we are bound to believe, so in truth the best of them will confess, that the first advantage was reached out merely by a Divine hand, which also no doubt, did always assist their after endeavours. Some have the felicity to be born heirs to good Estates, others to be made so beyond their hopes. Marriage (besides the good which oftentimes it confers directly) collaterally sometimes helps to Offices, sometimes to Benefices, sometimes to Dignities. Many rise by relation and dependence, it being a happy step to some, to have fallen on a fortunate Master, to some on a foolish, to some (few) on a good. There are divers other means, of which, as of these, I am not so fit to speak, but truly considered, they are all out of our own power, which he that presumeth most, cannot promise himself; and he that expects least, sometimes attains.    

A conceit Of some OBSERVATIONS INTENDED Upon Things most remarkable in the Civil History of this Kingdom; and likewise in the State of the Church.  
From the NORMAN Invasion, till the Twelfth Year of our virtuous SOVEREIGN, CHARLES The FIRST, Whom God have in his precious Custody.  

Of WILLIAM the First.  
WILLIAM the First was a Child of Fortune from his Cradle. We do commonly and justly style Him, The Conqueror: For he made a general Conquest of the whole kingdom and People either by Composition or Arms. And he suppressed in great part the former customs and Laws, and introduced new Behaviours and Habits; which under show of Civility, were in effect but Rudiments of Subjection. Lastly, he was near the Imposing, and (as I may term it) the Naturallizing here of his own Language: At least, he both made it and left it Currant in all Courts of Plea; whereof is yet remaining no small Impression.  
Besides his achievements by Force, I note a great Secret of State silently wrapped in his high tenors of Knight Service. For, those drawing as well Marriage as Wardship, gave him both power and occasion to Conjugate at pleasure the Norman and the Saxon Houses, which by degrees might prove a second Conquest of Affections, harder than the first.  
Rarely had been seen for such a Prize, an evener Trial by battle then that at Hastings: Both Commanders well acquainted before with Adventures and Peril: Both animated and edged with Victories. In their Numbers (through confused Report) I can collect no enormous disparity. In their Persons equally valiant. And for any Right or merit in the Cause, no difference but this: That either the One must keep a kingdom ill gotten, or the Other get it as ill.  
What were the main Errors, and what principally gave the Day, so long after, is hard to affirm. Well we may conclude, that on either side the Fight was constant and fierce: and surely undeterminable without the death, at least, of one of the Chiefs. For the English would not run away, and the Normans could not.  
After this Success, His not Marching immediately to the Head-City; when Terror would have swept the ground before him: but Casting about (for so the most have delivered) more like a Progress then a pursuit, as if one single battle had given him leave to play with his Fortune, may seem strange, according to the maxims of War at this Day: But, let all Discourse cease. States have their Conversions and Periods as well as Natural Bodies, and we were come to our tropic.  
In his farther proceed I note him sometimes most helped, and another while most hindered by the Clergy, then of mighty persuasion with the Temporal Lords and People: which taught him afterwards a Lesson when he was fast in the Throne, how to Rivet his own Greatness, by Changing the Natives into Normans, or other Aliens of his proper choice, in the Highest Ecclesiastical Dignities.  
Then was Stigand the Metropolitan, in a Synod formally and fairly Deposed, being too stiff for the times: Which was indeed the wring Point, though other Objections made more noise.  
He was Crowned on Christmas Day, in the year of our Saviour 1066. At which Time he would fain have Compounded a Civil Title of, I know not what, Alliance or Adoption, or rather Donation from Edward the Confessor: As if Hereditary kingdoms did pass like new-year's gifts: The truth is, He was the Heir of his Sword. Yet from those Pretences howsoever, there sprang this good, That he was thereby in a sort engaged to cast his Government into a middle or mixed nature, as it were between a lawful Successor, and an invader; though generally, (as all new Empires do savour much of their beginnings) it had more of the Violent then of the Legal.  
One of the first Things in his Intent, but in effect one of the last, was the perfecting of that which we call the Winchester Book: being a more particular inquisition than had been before, of every Hide of Land within the precincts of his Conquest, and how they were holden: whenceforth we may account a full Re-settlement of Lordship and propriety through the Realm. Quere (for I find it obscure) whether Possessions for the most part, had not remained all the while before, in a kind of Martial Disposure, or perchance little better.  
We have at this day more knowledge of whom he doubted, then of whom he trusted, (which I believe were very few) Certainly, his Reign must needs be full of strong apprehensions, and his nature was prone enough to entertain them, as may well appear by the event, in two Personages of all other the likeliest to sit fast about him; namely, Fitz Aubert, alias Fitz Osbern, (for he is diversely termed) and Odo, one of his own brothers by the same womb. These two had each of them contributed towards his enterprise about forty ships a piece, and were the first foundation of his Fortunes, both in Strength, and in Example. But what became of them? Marry, after they had been dignified here with earldoms, the one of Hereford, the other of Kent; Fitz Osbern (as some report) was executed under him: Or (as the most) was discarded into a foreign Service, for a pretty shadow of Exilement. And Odo his Brother was a Prisoner even at the time of his own death: So heavy with some high minds is an over-weight of Obligation: Or otherwise, great Deservers do perchance grow intolerable Presumers Or lastly, Those that help to Raise, stand ever in some hazard to be thought likewise the fittest too Depress. I have been sometimes tempted to wonder, how among these Jealousies of State and Court, Edgar Atheling could subsist, being then the Apparent and Indubitate Heir of the Saxon Line. But he had tried and found him a Prince of limber virtues: So as though he might per adventure have some Place in his Caution, yet he reckoned Him beneath his Fear.  
He was contemporal with three Popes, Victor, and Alexander the second of that Name, and Hildebrand, alias, Gregory the Seventh. Victor took the first hold of him, by Ratifying his Nuptial Contract within the Degrees forbidden (which is none of the least Arts in the Roman Hierarchy, for the Chaining of Princes and their Issue to a perpetual dependence.) Alexander drove it somewhat further, by lending his Banner to this Invasion: As they have been always frank of their Blessings to Countenance any Great action: and then (according as it should prosper) to Tissue upon it some Pretence or other. As, here first of all came in a Challenge of Homage, forsooth, by Promise: which though the Conqueror ever eagerly disavowed; Yet, I know not how, by the cunning encroachments of Hildebrand (that famous Intruder) who succeeded, He did abase and avale the sovereignty into more Servitude towards that See, (as our Authors charge his Time) then had been since the name of a State or a Church among us.  
Now for the Constitution and Character of his Person and Mind: He was not of any delicate Contexture: His Limbs rather sturdy then dainty: Sublime and almost Tumorous in His Looks and Gestures: yea, even in His Oaths; for they say, He used to swear By the Resurrection of the Son of God. By nature far from Profusion, and yet a greater Sparer than a saviour; For though he had such means to accumulate, yet His Forts, Castles, and Towers which he built, and his Garrisons which he maintained, and his feast (wherein he was only Sumptuous) could not but soak His Exchequer. Besides, the multiplicity of Rewards which hang upon such Acquests; And likewise certain secret waste Pipes of spials through the Realm, no less chargeable, then Necessary for new Beginners. But above all, I must note the Pope's legates and Dreyners, which began here to be frequent in His Time; and are not where cheap.  
One strange and excellent Fame doth follow Him: That the Land had never been before so free from Robberies and Depredations, as through His Reign; scarce Credible in such a Broken and Ruffling Time, if it were not so constanly delivered. But, it should seem, That to ingratiate himself with the vulgar (with whom there is nothing more popular than Security) He made it a masterpiece of his Regiment. And perchance Action had pretty well evacuated the idle people; which are the stock of Rapine.  
His Wife, the Lady Magdalena, brought him four Sons, and six Daughters; And (besides her natural Fertility) we may almost account her pregnant of a Conquest: For, her Father Earl Baldwin of Flanders had then the French King in Tutelage: So as (no doubt) by her Mediation he drew a great Concurrence from that kingdom, and the adjacent Provinces. For these Reasons He loved Her well: And I find his life little tainted with extravagant Lust; for, his pleasures were more of the Field, then of the Chamber. Yet, he had one Illegitimate Child (to keep it in fashion) namely, Pruerel, Lord of Nottingham and Derby.  
He left the Succession to his second Son, not because he bore his Name (though that perhaps might have been some Motive:) nor because he thought him the best timbered to support it: But Robert his eldest, having openly Rebelled against him; and having (as they writ) at a casual encounter given him his Life (which was too great a Gift to be either forgotten or acknowledged) he had reason to prefer the more obsequious Child. And I think, we shall need to seek no further.  
As for Henry his third Son, albeit he was born after his Father was a King; and the two former were but the Issue of a Duke of Normandy; so as by some ancient Examples (if Examples could carry Diadems) he might, and perchance did expect the Crown; yet, He left Him (by our best Relations) but a bare Legacy of five thousand pounds. Note the sober measure of that Age, when it was a Kings younger Sons Portion, which is now scant an alderman's: So much is either Wealth increased, or Moderation decayed.  
But let me Conclude my Notes upon the Heroical Champion. He died not in his Acquisitive, but in his Native Soil: Nature herself as it were claiming a final Interest in his body, when Fortune had done with Him. But one thing fell out to disquiet his Obsequies, That the Place where he should be laid, was put in Suit, as having formerly in the Time of his Power been wrested from the true Owner; which a while suspended his Interment, and became a Declamatory theme among the Religious Men of that Age; That so Great A conqueror of foreign Lands should at length want Earth at Home to cover Him.  
But it was the last of his worldly Felicities, that for the better Establishment of His Heir, he survived his own Victory twenty Years, eight months, and sixteen days. For, Tempus concoquit omnia.    

HENRICI VI● Angliae & Galliarum Regis, Hiberniae Domini, Etonensis ad Tamesin Collegii Conditoris, Vita & Excessus.  Scriptore HENRICO WOTTONIO Anglo-Cantiano Ejusdem Collegii Praefecto. 
INter honestam requiem quam Etonense Collegium Vergentibus jam Annis nostris indulget, Subinde me invafit haec Cogitatio: Haud multùm distare silentes à Defunctis. Quippe, quid interest nos terminet fatalis Dies, an praestinguat Inertia? Unde reputanti mecum quid aggrederer, non ingratum omnino videbatur praesentis otii praetium fore, si Regis HENCICI VI. Vitam (cujus benificâ Pietate fovemur) è sanctioribus memoriis expromerem à primo fere vagitu ad extremum usque Diem; quo innocentius quidem quàm felicius, Imperium clausit. Quod si obscuriora jampridem amplexus Studia Magnorum Nominum Gloriae quae sub Calamum cadent minus satisfecerim. At interea quodcunque futurum sit, pro diverticulo saltem valeat ad fallendam Canitiem quae indies obrepit.  
Age ergo, revolvamus varios humanorum Casuum Fluctus & Procellas. En mirum sub Rege maxime omnium quiet is avido, turbulentissime Scenae Spectaculum: Eóque tristiori exitu, quo blandioribus i●…itiis, ut nulla Optimo Principi defuisse videatur, aut ludent is Fortunae ●…ut saevientis, Calamitas. Sed in ipso limine parcendum publico Moerori. Paulisper indefleti jaceant tot fortium virorum, tot illustrium Familiarum Cineres. Ne, ut ●…lerique Scribentium, pomposo nimis genitu, conceptum opus praegravarem. Téq●…e potius (Serenissime CAROLE Rex & Domine) justi tenax, verique patiens, & cujus mores non minùs quàm leges cuncta temperant: Te; inquam, veterum ritu ante Exorsum compellare liceat, ut his conatibus benignâ fronte adesse velis, Dum priorum jam longè temporum Aerumnas (quas divinum Numen sopivit) liberiùs quàm facundè peragam.  
Lancastrii Stemmatis MAJESTAS (quoquo modo parta) per duorum Dominantium virtutes pariter & successus occoeper at paulatim valescere. De Henrici Quarti primordiis jam circumquaque Silentium: Aut obtecta murmura compriment (ut solet) Vulgi voces laeto hactenus domi forisque Fortunae afflatu. At neque Nobilium videbantur inquieta Consilia, quorum ferocior Pars aperto Marte aut conjurationibus exhausti, Molliores Tempori serviebant. Quin & quaedam subfulsit futura securitatis Fiducia. Quippe viginti jam trium Annorum dilapsu (tot enim à primi Lancastrii Imperio ad insequentis Obitum interfluxerant) Wallia post Oweni Glendori mis●…rrimos Impetus, sub Henrico Quarto composita, Scotiaeque Confinio per Henrici Quinti Solertiam contra subitos incursus satis providè munito; Si quid hîc forsan adhuc Turbidi, si quid Infidi detegeretur, promptum erat aliorsum transfundere, & interna Suspicionum in Galliam velut exantlare, Quo tum Tempestas incubuit.  
In hoc statu Rerum Henricus Quintus post Victoriam in Gallos ad Age●…riam (omnis Aevi Memoria illustrem) ingravescente Morbo, quem fortè inter bellandi Sudores contraxerat, sit Saeculi Fulmen, & bre●… (prob nimium!) Aetate, Gloriae Satur, concessit Fatis, relicto vix quadrimestri Filiolo.  
Hic est ille HENRICUS Sextus, cujus Tempora in praesens meditamur, tot sortis Humanae Documentis inclyta, quot ulla usquam Aetas in unum congessit.  
Sed antequam ulterius processerim, non incongru●… reor paucis aperire, Qualis tum esset Christiani Orbis Facies, Quaenam apud nos Externorum Motuum, Qua Civilium Origo, Quantum Anglorum Arma tum for 〈◊〉 obtinuerint, Quid intro sperandum, Quidve timendu●… fuerit.  
Desunt caetera.   


King Charles the: I    

AD REGEM E SCOTIA REDUCEM HENRICI WOTTONII PLAUSUS ET VOTA.  
M. DC. XXXIII.   

CAROLINO CORNUBIAE DUCI, CESTRIAE COMITI, etc.  
HENRICUS WOTTONIUS Seros Dies.  
CELSITUDINI Tuae, tenellae adhuc Aetatis, insequentes PLAUSUS ET VOTA, Quae PARENTEM Tuum, Optimum Regum é SCOTIA Reducem exceperunt, non inconsultè Dedico. Ut postquam Literis (Avito jam Decore) imbutus fueris, ex hac quantulacúnque Commentatiuncula Gazam haurias, Triplici DIADEMATE Splendidiorem: Nempo HEREDITARIAM VIRTUTIS IMAGINEM.   

AD REGEM E SCOTIA REDUCEM Henrici Wottonii PLAUSUS ET VOTA.  
Augustissime CAROLE REX ET DOMINE.  
ANtiquitùs mos erat apud humaniores Gentium, quoties Justo Bonoque Principe fruebantur, Ne muta faelicitas in pectoribus torperet, affectus & gaudia Praeconiis, Votis, Plausibus effundere; Praesertim si quae Nobilior occasio acclamantium Voces eliceret. Cujus Ego tam sancti moris aemulatione quâdam raptus, discusso circà praecordia frigore quod gravior jam aetas invexerat, ad celebrandum hanc Diem quâ Te nobis, Nosqque nobismetipsis restituis, flagranti fiduciâ accedo. Adeo enim propriâ dicendi Imbecillitate non deterreor, ut parùm absit quin eò me magis idoneum aestimem: Quippe, quid opus est Rhetorico apparatu? Cur anxiè nimis Verborum pondera expenderem? Sufficiet hodiè simpliciter gaudere. Sinceritas rudis ac impolita res est, quò incomptior eò alacrior: Et Faundia dum ornat, corrumpit laetitiam. At neque id metuo, ne hoc officium blandientis videatur, & quasi ad Fortunae Genua ambitiosae projecti; quod sanè indignum foret ingenuo pudore quem à Parentibus, Indignum beatâ Mentis requie quam ex honestis studiis hausi. Unica tamen, fateor, in ipso limine Me circumcingit sollicitudo: Nimirum, ne Verecundiam illam quâ Majestas Tua caeteras Virtutes suavissimè condire solet etiam veris laudibus offendam. Nam cùm ad alia omnia Fortissimus sis quae aut Corporis Robur, aut Constantiam Animi postulent; solùm vereor, ne hodiernos applausus & Elogia, quò justiùs debentur, eò mollius feras.  
Legimus Germanicum (At quantum Virum!) paulò antè Praelium in Chattos, ferinâ opertum pelle ne nosceretur, appropinquâsse noctu militum Tabernaculis, ut conceptam de se Opinionem in tenebris subriperet: Adcò proprias plerumque Laudes tenerrimè excipiunt qui maximè merentur. Unde satis praevideo quàm necessarium sit, ut ad sacras tuas Aures Argumentis non ex levi Oratorum officinâ, s●…d paulo severioribus, aditum praemuniam. Dico igitur aequissimum esse ut neque pulchrae Principum, nec deformes Vitae, ignobili silentio premantur: Sed Boni Pravique eâdem scribendi quâ vivendi Libertate, Nec minore Veritatis quâm Majestatis Reverentiâ, ad posterorum notitiam juxtà transeant: Illi quidem, Ne subductis Virtutum Exemplis, Virtutes ipsae paulatim deficerent: Hi verò, ut soluti Legum vinculis, aliquo saltèm Annalium metu temperentur. Hoc ausim Tibi dicere, Praestantissime Domine, Et hoc ipsum quod ausim Tibimet-ipsi debeo; Qui Triginta-tres jam Annos Ità vixisti, Ità novem ferè regnâsti, ut Verum non timeas. Clarissima erat olim, & aeternùm Vivet Virginii Rufi ad Cluvium responsio; Scis, (inquit) Virgini, Quae Historiae Fides debeatur: Proinde, si quid in Historiis meis legis alitèr ac velles, Ignoscas rogo. Cui Virginius. Cluvi, ne tu ignoras ideò me fecisse Quod feci, ut esset vobis liberum Scribere quae libuisset. At haec suit Inclyti quidèm sed privati Hominis securitas. Quantò magis exultet haec dies ob receptum Regem, de cujus Vitâ Moribusque apertissimè simul ac tutissimè loquamur. Quin & confidentèr hoc adjiciam; Si prima Architectrix NATURA ipsa Pectus Tuum (ut Verbo Vitruviano utar) fenestrâsset; Si omnium oculos non solùm intrà Secretiores Cubiculi parietes, sed ad intimos Cordis recessus admitteres, Nihil omninò aliud appareret quàm Splendor Boni, & Imperturbata Virtutum Serenitas. Quid dixi? Si admitteres? Ac si possent, Quos hic Supremum NUMEN in Sublimi & Lucido posuit, ex Oculis eripi, Et Vitae vel Imperii rationem quasi praetensis Nubibus occulere. In hoc quidem Obscuritas & Ipsa solitudo est Majestate tectior. Putatne ille Abissinorum Imperator, quem ferunt quotannis semèl palam conspici, eò minus notescere quid clanculum fiat? Annon etiam hodiè scimus Domitianum olim in secreto Horario, quo se indies seclusit, nihil aliud quàm praeacuto stilo Muscas confixisse? Num Tiberius in Capreensi secessu delituit? Cùm inter tot Vulnera & Laniatus Conscientiae (queîs tanquam Furiis agitabatur) multa quotidiè divulsae Mentis Indicia erumperent? Non certè. Majestas Tua & sui Temporis, & venturi Principes unicam solùm & saluberrimam se celandi Artem docuit, quod nihil celandum moliris. Sunt quaedam Animalcula ingrato aspectu velùt Noctuae ac Vespertiliones quae Natura ad Lucis Odium damnavit: Nonnullos etiàm Potentium fuisse scio, Qui inter Imperii Arcana & pro magno Versutiae Mysterio habuere, è longinquo coli; Ac si Reverentia in Speluncis tantùm & Crypteriis, non in aprico habitaret. Unde haec Regendi Sophismata? Paucis dicam ac liberè. Per obliquos tramites incedebant quia nesciverunt (brevissimam Viam) esse Bonos. Tu autem non Subditorum lumina & accessus fugis: Non abdito gaudes: Non Te tuis subtrahis: Non rigido & obducto Vultu falsam Venerationem captas. Immò interdùm etiam ad Comitatem quandam descendere non gravaris dignitate illaesâ. Sic enim in limpidissimo sinu tecum reputas, Si non esset supra potestatem Nostram latere posse, At esset infrà Bonitatem latere velle. Quâ certè nihil demum est popularius: Quippe Bonos Reges Boni omnes apertè, sed & improbissimi tacitè venerantur, Dúm Virtutis pulchritudo non secùs ac insolitum aliquod Jubar vel nolentium oculos perstringit. Quare cùm nuper in manus TRANQUILLUM SUETONIUM sumpsissem (qui ipsa Caesarum Viscera denudavit) ad fallendam dum aberas, litterato aliquo diverticulo, ingratam dierum longitudinem: & in illum fortè locum incidissem, quo tam graphicè describitur Augusti ejulatus, in Varianâ Clade crebrò vociferantis, REDDE MIHI, QUINTILI VARE, LEGIONES MEAS; Illicò exardebat Tui Desiderium, & vota pro reditu incaluêre. Multò enim tum justiùs visum est, Angliam debuisse SOROREM suam anhelantibus suspiriis lacessere, quàm Augustum QUINTILII Manes: Redde mihi, Scotia Soror, Regem nostrum: Redde Optimum Virorum: Quem nemo nisi malus non amat, nemo nisi ignarus non laudat. Redde Morum Rectorem, simul & Normam: Quò non solùm laetiorcs, sed & Meliores simus, dùm propiùs contemplabimur (quod rarissimum est) in summo Fastigio minimae Licentiae Exemplar. Cùm itaque Talis sis, (optime REX) supplex, permittas, rogo, si precibus quàm Argumentis flecti malis, ut novem (Tota enim computo) discreti Sermonis Populi, quorum habenas moderaris, TE Talem esse glorientur. Idque praedicent non vernaculo solum cujusque Idiomate (quod gaudiis quidem nostris angustius foret) sed communiori hâc qualitercunque Linguâ, ut & Exteri sciant, BRITANNIAM Tuam, quae olim primum Orbi Christiano & maximi nominis Imperatorem dedit, non adeò exaruisse quin & hodiè etiam laudatissimi REGISTYPUM exhibeat.  
Jam aliquantulùm praemollitâ, uti spero, ad audiendi patientiam viâ, dehinc juvabit quaedam ex toto hactenus Vitae tuae Morumque habitu quasi carptim delibare, eorum more qui Flores legunt. Etenim delectu magis rerum quàm ubertate gestio: quanquam non ignarus, adeò profusam fuisse Veterum in hoc Dicendi Genere aut Diligentiam aut Ambitionem, ut non inscitè forsan TIMAEUS dixerit, ALEXANDRUM Macedonem citiùs omnem ASIAM subegisse, quàm ISOCRATES Panegyricum scripsisset, Enimverò, Arti tunc nimis indultum videtur, dum in seraci Eloquentiae saeculo lasciviebant Rhetorum Ingenia. At Me decet, Simplicitatis simul nostrae ac Senectutis memorem, Summa potiùs ex Encomiis Tuis attingere, quàm singula persequi; ut ipsa Orationis Brevitas velùt elabentium Annorum fugam imitetur. Caeterum Antè alia sese offert Eximia Ortus Tui Nobilitas: Quâ in longâ Antecedentium REGUM serie cunctis, ne ipso quidem PARENTE excepto, praeluces. Id paucis clariùs deducam. Atavus Tuus HENRICUS Septimus (Faelicior an Fortior nescio) Rubellam Albamque ROSAS, duarum praepotentium Familiarum Insignia, per ELIZABETHAE EBORACENSIS Connnbium, Exul ferè simùl & Victor univit: quae divulsae Patriam tot annos infestis Odiis & Cruore polluerant.  
Beatius Regnorum quàm Rosarum vinculum Parentis Tui Auspiciis debemus, vel ob id solùm non sine summâ Veneratione memorandi. At in Te unico (Augustissime CAROLE) omnium post Romanos, omnis Aevi Nationum, quae Britanniam per Jus aut Arma possederunt, confluxit gloria. In Te, inquam, Unico; quem primum CAMBRICI, ANGLO-SAXONICI, SCOTICI, NORMANNICI, ac DANICI demùm, Germinis SURCULUM ex hactenùs Coronatis agnos●…imus. In hoc fortassè, (si Comparationis Vilitas non spernatur) Celeberrimo Europae ●…STRO non absimilem, quem per immenssa spatia devolutum tot illustrium Alveorum Undae nobilitant.  
Scripsit inter nostrates haud obscurus Author, non priùs Majores nostros legitimum in Angli●… Normannorum Imperium agnovisse, (quod tàm aegro initio laboraverat) Quàm MATTHILDIS HENRICO Primo enupta, Sobolem ex Antiquo Saxonicorum Regum Sanguine, in hanc lucem protulisset. Erat autem illa DAVIDIS, ETHELREDI Regis Abnepotis, ex progenitoribus Tuis, SOROR. Quanto nunc splendidior Causa Majestatem Tuam omnibus Ulnis ambiendi, qui ex tàm multiplici Imperantium prosapiâ, ad Nos defluxisti? Postquàm & Cimbrici Sanguinis Vetustissimi, Additamentum caeteris Decoribus accessit, ex ANNA Matre Virilis Animi HEROINA. Et quantò nunc veriùs repetamus, quod superiori Aevo Buchananus faelicissimi post Antiquos Ingenii Vates, Aviae Tuae (utinam feliciore Fato!) cecinit Misssa per innumeros Sceptra tueris Avos.  
Sed haec quidem hactenùs vix Tua reputas: Ad propria transeo, quae non minùs illustrant quàm illustrantur.  
Tria animadvertimus, Optime REX (quâ appellatione iterùm libenter & saepiùs utar) in Primordiis Tuis ad insequentes progressus haùd levis momenti, ut ferè semper incrementis inhaeret Principiorum sapor.  
Primùm, Quod non in supremam Imperii Spem natus es. Unde Adulatio (quanquàm velox & Vigil Malum) quae ipsa Summorum Haeredum Incunabula circumstat, mollioribus Annis Tuis segniùs incubuit: Et propria interim Indoles, simpliciore haustu, generosum Honesti Succum imbibebat. Nam certè in formandis & quasi (ut sic dicam) instillandis privati cujúsque, nedùm Principum, primae vis propensionibus, Reipublicae multùm interest: Cujus non solùm Fulcimina, sed & simulachra sunt futuri.  
Alterum, quod Fratri successisti non modicis quidem Naturae Dotibus. Unde Parentum exhinc solertior & contractior Sedulitas (curam enim excedebat) circà Unici Filii Ornatum. Quin & Tui ipsius erectiores indiès Spiritus, Cum Tantae jam Expectationis Onus in Te solùm recidisset. Tum admoti qui Aetatem illam nondum Negotiis aptam, Litteris fidelitér imbuerent: Tum acciti qui Te, paulatim crescente robore, Equestribus Exercitiis polirent. Quae Memini quàm decorâ dexteritate in primo Juventae agitabas: Donec postea in frequenti Hastarum decursione, nescio plus spectantibus Gaudii, an Pavoris injiceres.  
Tertiò in Mentem venit quod aliquandiù, quasi luctante Naturâ, Corporis Artubus paulò invalidior eras, & Vigori longè Impar quem nunc laetantes stupemus. Quod equidem secretioris Providentiae Consilio contigisse autumem, quo intentior tùm esset Ingenii excolendi Cura; ut Haeredem Regis clàm futurum decuit; Quem omnium post multa Saecula, Principum Sapientissimum, ne Maligni quidèm negant.  
A primitiis Tuis ad robustiora propero, promissae Brevitatis non oblitus.  
Post Peregrinationem, variis Casibus obnoxiam, ad Coronam pervenisti: Unde constat quantum ipsemet tùm auderes, cùm Omnes Interim Domi, Tui causâ trepidarent. Sed Coelestis Favor Te nobis Incolumem reduxit, & ne tinctum quidem Exoticis Coloribus: velut alterum ULYSSEM, cui satis erat (vel HOMERO Teste) cognovisse Mores Hominum & Urbes.  
Adsumpto Diademate, emicuit antè alia Religiosus Animus, Regnorum Columen, Bonorum Gaudium. Sacellum Regium nunquàm ordinatius. Auctior indiès Insignium Theologorum numerus. Conciones nullo unquàm Aevo frequentiores, nullo Doctiores: Et Exemplum Principis, Concionibus Validius. Nulla ex Ore execratio temerè prodiit. Ab omni paulò lasciviori, nedùm sordido sermone, Aures abhorrebant; qui sub EDOARDO Quarto fortassè, cùm Vagi Amores regnarent, pro Aulicâ Elegantiâ habebatur. Nec intrà Palatii parietes Pietas stetit; sed per Regnum diffusa. Intacti Ecclesiae reditus. Templorum hinc indè jacta Fundamenta: Collapsus passim restituti. Et quod praecipue posteri loquentur, Pientissimo Tuo Monitu excitatae Regni Opes, ad restaurandam Aedem Apostolo Gentium Sacram, quae passa erat Temporis injurias; Omnium Orbis Christiani (Quis dubitet?) pari vetustate Amplissimam. Ubi effulsit Majestatis Tuae cura, in demoliendis Privatorum Aedificiis, quae tàm visendi operis faciem dehonestabant: Nec minùs in administratione totius Negotii imposita, Vigilantissimo Praesuli, qui ob spectatissimam Fidem & Judicium, nuperrimè altiora meruit.  
Jam post Deum, Quàm tenero ergà Subditos affectu? Cùm Contagio grassaretur, Ad publica Jejunia, Jussu Tuo recursum. Cùm Inediae majori Metu quàm Malo premeremur, Annonae flagellatores aperire Horrea coacti, lenitis Frugum pretiis.  
Inter has sanctiores Curas non omiserim, Providentiae Tuae peculiare Praeconium; cujus Origo paulò altiùs repetenda.  
Enatae sunt foràs antè aliquot Annos, aut fortè ex antiquo recruduerunt, Controversiae quaedam, circà sublimes Fidei Articulos, quae cùm ad nos quóque transvolâssent, (ut facilè se diffundunt Ingeniorum Flammae,) ne hîc etiam Pulpita & Calami, cùm Inquietudine publicâ incalescerent, Majestas Tua per Edictum, laudatissimâ temperie, omnem utrimque Disceptationem compressit. Sentiant Alii quid velint; Meo Arbitratu (si Verbo sit venia) Disputandi Pruritus, est Ecclesiarum Scabies. Referam quod mihi contigit obseruâsse non semel. Duos nempe de Re quâpiam acerrimè disceptantes, donec utroque ex alio in aliud Contentionis aestu abrepto, Ambo tandem primò Charitatem, deinde etiam Veritatem amiserant. Quò procederet irrequietum Acumen, nisi premeretur? Nullus est finis Argutiarum. Sed maturè Obviám itum est.  
His Pietatis Laudibus subjiciam Ingens Gratitudinis, Ingentius ferè Constantiae documentum, erga GEORGIUM VILLIERIUM Buckinghamiaes DUCEM. Quem, cum inter Hispanici Itineris Discrimina, lateri Tuo praecipuus comes adhaesisset, Domi posteà per omnes utriusque Fortunae Scopulos, quasi repensâ vice, tutò circumtulisti; donec improvisum Diem clausit. Vidimus etiam non leves Favoris Tui Radios in Alterum ex Fidis comitibus, & solertis Judicii Virum conjectos.  
At haec non solùm inter Argumenta Animi Fidelium Officiorum memoris (quod verè Regium est) recenseo; sed & singularis ergà Parentem etiam defunctum Obsequii, cui Buckinghamius tot Annos in delitiis fuerat: Ac si Majestas Tua sese tàm Affectuum ejus, quàm Regnorum Haeredem reput●… ss●…t: Raro inter Omnium Saeculorum memorias Exemplo. Erat sanè Dux ille ob multa Amabilis, eademque rarissimè conjuncta. Singulis Corporis Artubus quasi affabrè compositus: Forma tamen, an Venustas superaret, incertum. Animo autem haud dubiè intrepido. Impositis, adsumptisve Curis aequè intentus. Aderat, tot negotiis districto, incredibilis Temperies & Aequabilitas. Appetitum Gloriae haud negaverim, quem generosi Spiritus tardissimè deponunt. At quod super omnia suavissimum; nulla Morum austeritas. Nihil in externo tumidi. Sed Obvius, Affabilis, & cuique ferè Expositus: Ac si in tantâ Faelicitate, vix Faelicitatem suam sensisset. Quo vel uno meritus videatur, ut mollius decumberet.  
Pollêre post haec incepit Principibus Majestatis Tuae Curis, indiésque pollet, quò probatior eò acceptior, Vir sanè moderato vitae Habitu, & gravissimi Consilii: ac tramissis Inanibus, ad solidam Prudentiam natus. Quem nominare Injuriosum foret: Nam qui ingenuè describitur, sine Nomine intelligatur.  
At meritò Supremum in Affectus Imperium, sibi soli vindicavit Dignissima Regalis Thalami CONSORS, Ipsa etiam longo Regum Stemmate oriunda, Sed satis est dicere MAGNI HENRICI FILIA, ac JUSTI LUDOVICI SOROR. Quam, ob charissima jam utriusque Sexus Pignora, ob Castissimae Venustatis Decus (& quod Conjugale Vinculum maximè beat) ob congruos Mores, adeò Sanctè & unicè amas, ut meritò videaris ex Optimi Patroni, in Optimi Conjugis Titulum transivisse. Castimoniae, Temperantiam adjunxisti, cognatam comitem: quas inter Impotentes & Miseros, quis non tacitus praeteriret? Sed in Rege, sed in Juvene, tam vegetae Aetatis; & in tantâ ad omnes Appetitus explendos promptitudine, laudemus magis an miremur, nescio.  
Jam post haec Elogia, quae partim Amorem, partim etiam Stuporem conciliant; De Temporis Tui Justitiâ vel dubitare, injustissimum fuerit.  
Non pigebit tamen paulò fusiùs repetere rem in obscurae sortis Homine, illustrissimi Exempli. Contigit Londini nescio quis Tumultus, ob quendam ex Apparitorum manubus ereptum, qui alieno aere obstrictus in Carcerem ducebatur: ubi inter confusos Animorum motus unus aut alter (ut ferme fit) ex fortuitis vulneribus periêre: unde johannes Stamfordius Quidam, Vir manu promptus (qui se his Turbis fataliter immiscuerat) pro Homicidii reo, in Vincula conjectus est. Non caruit apud Majestatem Tuam Intercessoribus magni Nominis; Et certissima jam effulgebat (ut in vulgus credebatur) impetrandae Veniae Spes, quia Buckinghamiaes Duci à Cubiculo fuerat, & inter suae Conditionis Clientes, Hero aliquandiù gratissimus ob Eximium Corporis Robur & luctandi peritiam. Cujus tùm etiam recens adhùc Memoria: quod misellum fortassè Audaciorem fecerat. At neque superstitum Preces, neque Viri ipsius notissima Fortitudo, Nec denique tam dilecti nuper Capitis, cujus in Clientelâ fuerat, recordatio, apud Majestatem Tuam Justitiâ praevaluère; Quin (magnum dictu:) Laqueo Vitam finiit.  
Recentior est Memoria Supplicii, quod Baro pervetustae Prosapiae, palàm passus est ob Facinus Natalibus suis Indignum. Sed si vetus Ingeniosi Authoris Observatio adhùc valeat, Quaedam esse Clariora, quaedam Majora; Equidem Baronis Clariùs Spectaculum, sed Stamfordii Majùs crederem.  
At quò me rapit, dùm Haec Revolvo, non insuavis quaedam Meditatio? Habet Majestas Tua in stricti Juris Tribunalibus, Idoneos Judices: Qui rigidiùs pronunciant. Habet etiam consultissimum Aequi Bonique Antistitem, Antiquis Praetoribus parem: Qui, pro Populi levamento, severiora emollit. Sed Hi seorsim, discretis Soliis locantur. Si quis fortè quaerat, cur non simul, quod expeditius videatur? Dicam quod sentio. Exoptabant MAIORES nostri, ex gravissimâ quidem Providentiâ, justitiam ac Lenitatem, Quae in Magistratu inferiori divulsae sedent, in solo SUPREMI Pectore Societas. Et sanè sic est. Majestas Tua velut ad Majorum desiderium composita, Has adeò temperatè commiscuit, ut neque Mali audeant, neque doleant Boni. Hactenus intelligi velim Me solùm de Communibus quasi Flagitiis coercendis locutum, quae ubique Terrarum pullulant: Nam de Atrocioribus apud Nos (Divino Beneficio) Ne Verbum, Imò, Ne Somnium quidem. Laboramus excellenti Ignorantiâ. Nescimus quid Perduellio, quid contrà salutem Publicam Machinator, quidve illud sit, quod Grammatici Laesam Majestatem vocant. Cum Rebu, ipsa Vocabula obsoluerunt. Nec mirum qui●…em. Quis enim, nisi omnium Mortalium Stupidissimus idem & Sceleratissimus, parique prorsùs Vecord●…â ac Nequitiâ, tam Justi P●…que MODERATORIS Quietem violaret?  
Jam ut Justitiam (quàm Imperii Tui Sanitatem dixerim) aequissimo libramine tueris, hoc est, ne que tensis nimium, neque laxatis Nervis: Ità nec omittis quae ad Securitatem spectant. Idem enim alioquìn Imperiis, quod Corporibus nostris, contingeret: Quae periculosè subsistunt, ubi solâ Valetudine, sustinentur. Quarè post Bellum cum duobus simùl Potentissimis Regibus, Eventu (ut in Humanis fit) vario, per Nova utrimque Foedera consopitum; Princeps Domi Cura erat de maritimo Robore resarciendo, ut Insularium Regnorum TUTOREM decuit. Unde Classis Regia quotannis Auctior & Instructior: Itèm, Commodiores Navibus Stationes dilectae, & promptiore ad fortuitos Casus exitu: Majestate Tuâ non solùm jubente, sed & propriis Oculis ipsa loca subeunte: Ac si in re tanti momenti, vix alienis crederes. Deinde accuratior quàm unquàm anteà, Armorum lustratio; & in universum exercitatior, statis Temporibus, Militia.  
Intèr haec, Incivile esset silère quod Prudentes Temporum adnotârunt, Majestatem Tuam Consultis (ut vocant) de Statu, frequentiùs intervenire, quàm superiorum Quenquam Regum. Nisi fortè ad EDOARDUM Sextum oculos reflectamus, quem ferunt etiam Puerum rarò abfuisse.  
In illo Consilii Tui Coetu, Supremi Praesules Reverentiam, Ex utroque Regno selecti Proceres Dignitatem, adjungunt. Sunt quos exterarum Rerum usus, Sunt quos Municipalium Legum Peritia, exornat. Et Secretariorum Erudita, Fidelisque Sagacitas accidentibus invigilat. Sed super haec, Ipsa Domini praesentia nescio quid salutiferum spirat. Parùm est quod dixi, Praesentiam solùm. Imò ex iis qui Consilia Tua participant (Non omninò, fateor, incuriosus, ignoscas rogo) saepiùs accepi, quàm attentè quoties interesse libet, proposita revolvis: Quàm patienter auscultas; Quàm acri Judicio singula quaeque expendis; Quàm pertinax sis (non enim utar molliori voce) ubi Bono, Quàm Strenuus ubi Magno Animo opus sit. Denique in Secretioribus Negotiis, Quàm restrictam Taciturnitatem imponis, & Quàm severè exigis. In hoc quoque, Exemplo proprio praemonstrante quod jubes. Quippe praeter alia, Duo quidem Majestas Tua beatissimo nexu copulavit: Nimirùm, Nullus usquàm Principum, post Constituta Imperia, natus est Secreti tutior Custos; Et tamen cu●…s Secretum & Silentium minùs timemus. Quod de Optimo Viro julio Agricolâ dictum olim legimus, qui Romanorum Primus, CALEDONIAE Tuae ●…imbum invasit. Quippe Majestas Tua non in●…rorsùs & sinu fovet immansuetas & subdolas cogi●…ationes; Non offensionis scintillis incubat donèc ●…raestuent: sed Celso & Nobilissimo Candore, si ●…uae concepta fuerint, recludis, & ut sic dicam, ●…xhalas. Enimverò in nullâ, fateor, Virtutum ●…uarum reverentiâ lubentiùs haereo, quàm in hoc ●…pso Heroicae Ingenuitatis Elogio. Nam ut summus ●…LTISSIMI Character Veritas est, Ita quid ●…am in Terris imaginem REFERENTES, ●…agis quàm ipsa Veracitas condecoret, aut magni●…centiùs vestiat?  
Vidimus Hactenus, erga Parentem obsequium; 〈◊〉 Amicos Constantiam; In Conjugio Fidem; In ●…vendâ Republicâ non Regis sed Patris Affectum. ●…ec inter haec, pro conditione Temporum & per●…exo Rerum Statu, neglecta erga Sororem Uni●…m Optimi Fratris Officia, Quae mihi semper visa 〈◊〉 sola sui Sexus omnibus Malis Major, & ipsâ ob●…uritate Illustrior, & quidem Intra Fortunae Sortem ●…d Extrà imperium Posita. Quam quantùm ames, Imò quantùm aestimes, ex nuperâ Legatione patuit; Cùm in gravissimo Viduae Luctu, deferendo Solatio Primorem è Nobilibus, & priscis Ipsum Virtute ac Moribus Virum, ablegares: ut amantissimae Legationi, ex ipso Legati Delectu, aliquid etiam Dignitatis accederet. Hoc de Solamine.  
Quod ad Subsidium spectat, Nonne Majest●… Tua ex Primoribus etiam Scoticae Nobilitatis MARCHIONI, quanquàm hîc assiduis circà Teipsum & intimis officiis obstricto, probandae Fortitudinis suae Veniam indulsit? Per quaesitissimas Ambages, in tanto Viarum interclusu, Per Maris Terraeque Discrimina, Per loca Urbesque Peste & Inediâ obsitas: Ubi ferè difficiliùs erat penetrare, quàm vincere: ac duriùs Pati, quam Facere. Si post haec Successus defuere; At non animosa Regis Voluntas, At non Subditorum Virtus, At non sumptus variis modis, At non Legationes interim Legationibus accumulatae, de sedanda, per aequas Conditiones & amicabilem Tractatum, Orbis Insaniâ De caetero vel SOLONIS monitu acquiescendum, NEMO ANTEOBITUMGLORIETUR.  
Jam inter tot Curas, quibus vel Optimi Reg●… maximè premuntur, non injucundum fuerit, paulisper inquirere quàm eleganter intervalla Otii disponis. Nobilium Equorum usu gaudes; Qu●…nemo peritiùs aut mansuetos flectit, aut feroci●…tes domat. Adeò ut aptiùs an digniùs fecerit▪ ambigerim, Qui nuper Majestati Tuae Statu●… Equestrem experenni Aere fundi curavit: LIS●… ERII vivax Opus.  
Accedit Musica, quae tàm Organica, quam V●…calis, sub Te indies, quàm antehac, modulatio●… Utpote ad Aurium Tuarum Judicium accommodata. Hanc ne mollior videretur, quasi Venatione temperas. Quâ, Belli Imagine, adeò animosos Spiritus exerces, ut difficilè dictu sit, Venandi Voluptatem magis, an ipsum Laborem ames: aut utrùm de Praedâ Victoriam, an longam Praedae Fugam malles.  
Sed omnium Oblectationum Tuarum Splendidissima, est excellentium Operum & Artificum Amor: Queîs in utrâque tàm Pingendi, quàm Sculpendi Arte, ita Palatia decorâsti; ut Magnificentia Tua videatur Italiam, maximam elegantium Artium Matrem, aut Saltem post Graecos, praecipuam Altricem, in Angliam transfudisse.  
His Spectaculis quid amaeniùs, imò ferè quid doctiùs, rogo, Quàm elinguem illam Umbrarum & Luminum Eloquentiam, ac tacitam Linearum Poësim, & quasi animata Marmora contemplari? Hic Tinctoretti quos designavit Artus & Musculos, moveri Spectator juraret. Hic Bassani Volucres cantillant, mugiunt Boves, Pecora balant. Hic Rapbaelis Vultus spirant: Titiai etiam loquuntur. Hic in Correg●…ano Politiem: In Parmensi Concinnitatem laudares. Nec Belgicis etiam sua Laus deest. Qui si Campos depinxerint; omne Vigentium Genus viret, Flores rident, Montes eriguntur, Valles subsidunt. Eadem etiam in Statuis erudita Varietas: Quarum Hae Membrorum vivacitate quâdam; Aliae Mollitie gaudent. Sed haec Oculorum delinimenta sunt. Ad Mentem reficiendam, Interdum librum aliquem Selectioris Argumenti, plerumque Homines legis: Optimè guarus, quantum PRINCIPI expediat suorum nosse ingenia. Est & quando, veterum Epigrammata recensendo, Animum oblectas, non minori Acumine quàm componebantur.  
Sic seria tua, sic remissiora cursim peragravi. At ipsa quam cepi in his quanquàm ita levitèr delibandis Voluptas, Calamum jam currentem nescio quo modo novo Impetu exstimulat, ut Majestatis Tuae veram Effigiem in Contractiori Modulo, & quasi sub uno simul intuitu (si tantum Veniae indulseris) vel mihimet ipsi repraesentem, Quam sic Mente concipio.  
Staturam dicerem Justae proximam. Corpus erectum & Agile. Color in Universum ex EBORACENSI Albore, quàm LANCASTRIA Rubedine plus hausit. Caesaries nigella quàm flavae propior. Frons multum Fidei praefert: O ulos generosa quaedam Verecundia honestat: non qualem olim de Syllâ sed de Pompeio legimus. In Gestubus nihil affectatum. In toto etiam Aspectu nil Turgidi, nil Efferati; sed alliciens ac decora Suavitas. Alacritatem & Vigorem celerior incessus prodit: Alioquin sedati Affectus & Compositi Mores. Propositi & Promissi tenacissimus. Amans Veri. Vitiorum Osor. Justus, Constans, Fortis: & non simplicitèr tantùm, sed scientèr Bonus.  
Talis es: Talemque quanto Applausu recipiemus? Videre Mihi videor, dum Horrida interdùm & Tranquilla simul contendo, quotiescúnque RICHARDUS ille TERTIUS Eboraco forsan suo, aut longinquiùs Londinum remearet, & Proceres circa se conciret, Quàm nutabant Nobilium Capita, Quàm pallebant Ora, Quam sollicitas inter se suspiciones ac murmura conferebant, Ac si dirus repentè Cometes, aut infaustum aliquod Sidus suprà Horizontem emersisset. Sed contrà, Justi Bonique PRINCIPIS Reditus, nihil aliud omninò est quàm ipsa Solis Anastrophe, Cùm Vernalibus radiis deformem Hiemem expellit, ac blando Tepore cuncta circumquâque refovet & exhilarat. Euge igitur Rex omnibus Bonis Gratissime. Sed in quae Vota desinam? Veteribus in usu erat (quorum Exemplo percitus exiguum hunc laborem audacter nimiùm subivi) post Trajani Tempora sub Laudatissimo quoque Imperatore, hujuscemodi acclamandi Formula, Vive ANTONINE, Regna THEODOSI, AUGUSTO faelicior, TRAIANO Melior. Sit autem Hic Imperii Tui novissimus Character, quòd Optanda sunt Laudandis Pauciora. Igitur postquam hoc tantum ex Ardenti Affectu voverim, ut CAROLUS Optimus REX & DOMINUS noster Regnet Vivatque Sibimetipsi soli Diuque similis, Finis esto 
O Fortunatos nimium Bona si sua norint.    

A panegyric TO King CHARLES; BEING OBSERVATIONS Upon the Inclination, Life, and Government of our Late sovereign.  
Written in Latin, By Sir HENRY WOTTON Knight, (Provost of Eton college) a little before his Death.  
And now Englished by a Friend of the Authors.   

TO OUR Young CHARLES, DUKE of CORNWALL, EARL of CHESTER, etc.  
HENRY WOTTON wisheth long life.  
THese following vows and Acclamations wherewith Your Father (the best of Kings) was received at his Return from Scotland) I dedicate not unadvisedly to Your Highness: that when you shall be seasoned with Erudition (now your Ornament from many Ancestors) you may draw from this (whatever) small memorial, a Treasure more glorious than a triple Diadem, namely, AN HEREDITARY IMAGE OF virtue.   

TO THE KING, At His Return from SCOTLAND; Sir HENRY WOTTON's Vows and Acclamations.  
Imperial CHARLES, my King and Master.  
ACustome it was anciently, among the civiller Nations, so oft as they enjoyed a just and a Gracious King, (that their mute felicity might not contract a dulness in their breasts) to pour forth their affections and joys in eulogies, wishes, and applauses; But chief then, when any nobler occasion invited the rejoicers expressions. Which sacred customs Emulation in some sort, having transported me, and dispelled the chillness from my breast, which the weight of age hath introduced, I shall with flagrant confidence betake myself to celebrate this Day, whereon your Majesty doth restore yourself to us, and us unto ourselves. So far indeed am I from being discouraged by the weakness of my own elocution, that I am even ready to esteem myself thereby the abler. For, what need is here of dress Rhetorical? Wherefore over solicitously balance the weight of words? Susfice it this day simply to rejoice. Sincerity is a plain and impolite thing, the less tricked, the more cheerful; and Eloquence while it adorneth, corrupteth our gladness. Nor is it my fear, that this shall seem a flatterer's act, (as it were) ambitiously prostrate at fortune's feet, which in truth were unworthy of that ingenuous modesty, derived from my Parents, unbefitting that blessed Rest of mind I drew from liberal Studies. Yet doth one solitude at the very entrance, I confess, surround me, lest (namely) even with true praises I offend that modesty, wherewith Your Majesty useth so sweetly to season your other virtues: for whereas you are most stout in all things else, that requires Validity of Body, or Constantness of Mind, I only doubt, lest you should beat this days Applauses and eulogies, by so much the more tenderly, by how much they are the more justly due.  
We read that Germanicus (and yet how great a Personage!) not long before the battle against the Chatti; did under the disguise of a beasts skin, (that he might not be observed) by night, approach his soldier's tents, to catch up by dark what they conceived of him. So do those commonly with most tenderness admit their own commendations, who most deserve them.  
Whence I sufficiently foresee the necessity of assuring my access to your Sacred Ears, not by Arguments drawn from the slight Magazines of rhetoric, but by others of a soberer sort. I shall therefore affirm it most equitable, that neither the gallant, nor the base lives of Princes be pressed down in ignoble silence. But that both good and bad be transmitted equally to the knowledge of Posterity, in a like freedom of writing, as living: and with no less reverence of Truth, then of Majesty. Those, least virtuous examples failing, virtues themselves by degrees decay: These, that evading the power of Laws, yet may be bridled through some awe of Record. This to you, I may dare to speak (my most Gracious Master) and even that I may dare, I own to yourself alone, who now have so lived 33 years, and so reigned near to nine, That you dread not truth.  
Most famous was of old, and will live for ever, that answer of Virginius Rufus, to Cluvius: You know, Virginius (saith he) what credit is due to History: wherefore if you read any thing in my books, otherwise than you would have it, pardon me. To whom Virginius, Thou canst not (Cluvius) be ignorant of this, That therefore I did what I have done, that it might be free for you to write what you pleased. This was indeed the confidence of a gallant, but yet of a private man.  
How much more eminent may the joy be of this day, for a King returned, of whose Life and Morals we may speak both openly and safely. Yea, let me add this with confidence, that if Nature herself (the first Architectress) had (to use an expression of Vitruvius) windowed your breast: if your Majesty should admit the eyes of all men, not only within the privatest parts of your bedchamber, but even into the inwardest closerts of your heart: no other thing at all would there appear, save the splendour of your Goodness, and an undistempered serenity of your virtues. What said I? if you would admit? As if those whom the Supreme Power hath set on high, and in the light, could be hid from our eyes? or cover, as it were by a drawn cloud, the ways of their Lives and Government? Herein, no doubt, Obscurity and Solitude itself, is more vailed than Majesty. Thinks that Abissine Emperor (whom men report to appear to public view but once a year) that therefore it is less known what he doth in secret? Know we not at this day, that Domitian even in his closest Cabinet, wherein each day he shut up himself, did nothing but stick flies with a pointed Bodkin? Lay Tiberius hid in his recess to the Islands of Caprea, when among so many wounds and tortures of his conscience (which as so many furies tormented him) many tokens of a distracted mind did daily break forth? Surely no.  
Your Majesty hath taught the Princes of your own, and future times, the only and most wholesome way of self-concealing, in that you endeavour nothing to be concealed. There are certain creatures of ingrateful aspect, as Bats and Owls, condemned by nature to hate the light. I know also that some in power have also held it among the secrets of State, and as a great mystery of craft, to be served at a distance: as if reverence did only dwell in Dens, and Caves; not in the light. Whence then these subtleties of Government? In a word, and freely; they walked in crooked paths, because they knew not (the shortest way) to be good. But, your Majesty doth not shun the eyes and access of your Subjects, delight not in covert; nor withdraw yourself from your own people: you do not catch at false veneration with a rigid and clouded countenance; yea, sometime you vouchsafe to descend even to some familiarity without offence to your dignity: for thus you reason with yourself in the clearness of your own bosom; If it were not above our power to lie concealed, yet were it below our goodness to desire it: than which nothing surely can be in effect more popular; for good Kings all good men openly revere, and even the worst do it silently: whilst virtue's beauty, not unlike some brightest rays, strikes into the most unwilling eyes. Wherefore as of late, I took in hand Tranquillus Suetonius, (who hath laid open the very bowels of the Caesar's) to beguile in the time of your absence with some literate diversion, the tedious length of those days, and fell by chance upon that passage, so lively describing the wail of Augustus, after the Varian defect, often crying out, Render me, Quintilius Varus, my Legions; my desires of Your Majesty instantly flamed out, and my wishes gowed for your Return: for it seemeth then much juster for England to have solicited her SISTER with these panting suspirations, than Augustus the Ghost of Quintilius, Restore to me, Scotland my Sister, our King; Restore the best of men, whom none but the wicked love not; none but the ignorant praise not: Restore both the Director and Rule itself of Morality, whereby we may become not the gladder only, but the better too, while at hand we may contemplate (a thing most rare) One in highest Place, not inaulging to himself the least excess. Since therefore, such you are (O best of Kings;) suffer I humbly pray, if rather by Prayers than Arguments you choose to be inclined, That the nine Nations of different Language (for I reckon them no fewer) over which you gently reign, may glory in your being such: and may each declare it, not in their native Dialects alone (which would not give sufficient compass to our joys) but however, in this also more public Tongue; That even foreigners may know your Britain, which formerly bestowed upon the Christian World their first and most renowned Emperor, is not become so barren yet as not to afford, even at this day, a Type of the highest-famed King.  
Having now thus (I hope) somewhat smoothed the way to your patience, in hearing: good it will be henceforth out of the whole state of your Life and Carriage thus far, summarily to pick up some particulars, as those do who make their choice of Flowers. For I please myself more in the choice, then in the plenty of my Matter. Although I am not ignorant neither, that in this kind of speaking, the diligence, or ambition of the Ancients was so profuse, that perhaps Timeus said not unwittily, That Alexander the Macedonian sooner subdued all Asia, than Isocrates did write his panegyric. Certainly, there seems then to have been too great an indulgence to Art, while the Wits of Orators were wanton in that fertile age of Eloquence: but it becometh me (mindful both of my simplicity and age) to touch rather the heads of your praises, then to prosecute them all; that even the succinctness of my speech, may as it were, resemble the passage of my fleeting years. In the first place is offered the eminent Nobleness of your Extraction: whereby in a long Order of antecedent Kings, your lustre is above them all, your Father himself not excepted. This in brief I will deduce more clearly: Your Great Great-Grandfather Henry the Seventh, (whether more valiant, or fortunate, I know not) being almost at once an Exile, and a Conqueror, united by the Marriage of Elizabeth of York, the white Rose, and the red, the armouries of two very powerful Families, which being in division, had so many years polluted their own country with blood and deadly feuds. The more blessed Colligation of the kingdoms, then that of the Roses, we own to the Happiness of your Father, who even for that alone were to be remembered ever with highest veneration. But, in you singly (most Imperial Charles) is the conflux of the glory of all Nations, in all Ages, which since the Romans have possessed Britain, either by right, or by Arms; in you, I say, alone: whom the Cambrians first, the English-Saxons, Scots, Normans, and finally the Danes do acknowledge with us, to be the branch of that Stock that hith erto hath worn the Crown. In this perchance (if the meanness of the comparison be not rejected) not unlike to Europe's famous Ister, which rolling along through vast countries, is ennobled with the waters of so many famous streams. One not obscure among our Authors, hath written, that our Ancestors would not acknowledge the Norman Rule in England for legitimate (which had so weak a beginning) until Maud marrying with Henry the First, had brought into the world a child of the blood of the ancient Saxon Kings: she was Sister to David, Nephew twice removed off King Ethelred, your Progenitor.  
How much is there now a nobler cause for our embracing your Majesty with open arms, who are descended unto us from so plentiful a Race of Kings, since the access of the most ancient Cambrian blood to the rest of your Nobility, by Queen ANNE your Mother, a Lady of a great and masculine Mind? And how much the more truly may we now repeat, that which in the former Age Buchana●… (a Poet, next the Ancients, of most happy invention) sang to your grandmother, I wish with happier fate! 
From numberless Progenitors you hold  
Transmitted sceptres, which they swayed of old.   
But all these hitherto you scarcely account your own. I pass then to such as are your own peculiar, which confer no less of lustre, than they admit.  
Three particulars we observe (O best of Kings,) which Appellation I now again willingly, (and shall often use) in your Beginnings, of no small importance to your succeeding Progress; as for the most part the first favour of Principles, continues in the after-growths.  
First, That you were not born to the supreme hope of sovereignty, so as flattery (though an evil swift and watchful) which attends the Cradles of Potent Heirs, more gently pressed on your tender years. And the whiles your native goodness drank in with a draught more uncompounded the generous liquor of Integrity; for no doubt, how the earliest dispositions of private persons (much more of Princes) be at first form, and as it were instilled, that I may so speak, is of highest importance to the Commonwealth; whereof they are to become afterwards not only the Props, but also the Precedents.  
Next, That you succeeded a Brother of no small Natural Endowments, which begat thenceforward in your Parents a more industrious and closer sedulity (for it surpasseth care) for the accomplishment of their only Son: Nay, your own spirits daily grew the more intent, when now the weight of so vast an expectation was lodged on yourself alone. Then were advanced to you such who faithfully instructed in learning that youth of yours, as yet unapt for business. Then such were sent for, who as your strength increased, dressed you in the exercises of the Horse; which I call to mind with how graceful a dexterity you managed: until afterwards at a solemn Tilting, I became uncertain whether you struck into the beholders more Joy or Apprehension.  
In the third place, It comes to mind, that for some time, while Nature was as it were in struggling, you were somewhat weak of limbs, and far below that vigour, which now with gladness we admire: which I may judge to have befallen by the secret council of Providence, thereby at that time to render more intense the care of furnishing your mind, as became the Heir, then secretly designed of a King; whom Malignants themselves deny not to have been the wisest of all Princes from many Ages past. From your first essays I shall hasten to your stronger times, not unmindful of my promised business.  
After your foreign Travels, obnoxious to many hazards, you came unto the Crown, whence it appeared, how much yourself then dared to adventure, when the while at home each one was trembling for your sake. But the favour of Heaven brought you back safely to us; not so much as coloured with outlandish Dye; not unlike another Ulysses, who accounted it sufficient (even by Homer's witness) To have known the Morals of Men and Cities.  
When you had assumed the Crown, before all other things, there was resplendent in you a Religious mind: the Support of kingdoms: the Joy of good men. The chapel Royal was never more in order. The number of eminent Divines daily increased. Sermons in no age more frequented; In none more learned; And the example of the Prince more effectual than the Sermons. No execrations rashly proceeded from your mouth. Your ears abhorring, not only any wanton, but even the least sordid word: which perchance under Edward the 4th, while toyish Loves did reign, passed for Courtly eloquence; Neither stopped this piety within the Walls of Court, but was diffused also through the kingdom.  
The Church Revenues were not touched; Temples here and there new founded; D●…apidations repaired; And, (which Posterity will chief speak of) the Riches of your kingdom, excited by your most religious exhortation, for restauration of the Church consecrated to the Apostle of the Nations, (out of question the amplest and equally ancient of the Christian world) which had sustained the injuries of time. Where your majesty's care was greatly conspicuous in demolishing those private dwellings which disgraced the aspect of so goodly a fabric: And not less in imposing the management of that whole business upon that most vigilant Prelate, who for his singular fidelity and judgement, hath lately merited far higher place.  
Now (next to God) how tender was your affection to your People? When the Sickness raged, by your Command recourse was had to public fast. When we were pressed with greater fear then evil of Famine, the Horders of Provisions were constrained to open their Garners, and the prices of grain abated. Among these most pious cares, I cannot omit one peculiar elegy, proper to your own providence, whereof I must repeat the Original a little higher.  
There were hatched abroad some years ago, or perhaps raked up out of Antiquity, certain Controversies about high points of the Creed, which having likewise flown over to us, (as flames of Wit are easily diffused) lest hereabout also both Pulpits and Pens might run to heat and public disturbance: Your Majesty with most laudable temper by Proclamation suppressed on both sides all manner of debates. Others may think what pleaseth them; In my opinion (if I may have pardon for the phrase) The Itch of disputing, will prove the Scab of Churches. I shall relate what I have chanced more than once to observe. Two (namely) arguing about some subject so eagerly, till either of them transported by heat of contention, from one thing to another, they both at length had lost first their Charity, and then also the Truth. Whither would restless subtlety proceed, if it were not bounded: there is of captiousness no end: but seasonable provision was made against it.  
To these praises of Piety, I will add a very great evidence of Gratitude: and almost a greater of Constancy, towards George Villiers Duke o●… Buckingham: him, when amidst the dangers of the Spanish journey, he had been the nearest of your attendants, your Majesty afterwards, as in requital, bore safely with you at home, through all the rocks of either Fortune, till an unforeseen day was his conclusion.  
We observed also no ordinary beams of your Favour to be cast upon another of your trusty Associates in the same Journey, a Person of approved Judgement, Neither do I recount these only among the arguments of an heart mindful of faithful Offices (which indeed is Kingly) but likewise of singular obsequiousness towards your Father, even when deceased; to whom the Duke of Buckingham had been for many years a Favourite: as i●… Your Majesty had reputed yourself as much the Heir of his Affections, as you were of his kingdoms; An Example rare among the Memorials of all Ages. This Duke was indeed amiable in many respects, which seldom are concurrent. Each limb of his body almost very exactly composed: yet doubtful it was, whether his shape, or gracefulness excelled: undubitably of an undaunted spirit; equally intent upon his cares, whether imposed, or assumed: There was present with him in the midst of so many distractions an incredible temper and equability. I will not deny his appetite of glory, which generous minds do ever latest part from; but, above all, the most pleasing was, That he had no austerity of behaviour, nothing outwardly tumerous: but was obvious, affable, and almost to all men free and open: as if in so high a felicity, he had scarce been sensible of his happiness: for which alone he may seem to have deserved a more gentle end.  
Hence forward there began to be powerful, and so daily holds on in your majesty's most important cares, a person unquestionably of an habitual moderate life, and sober counsel: and the oftener tried, the more acceptable; not swayed to vanity, born to a solid prudence, whom to name might be injurious: for he that is described ingenuously, may be known without a name.  
But the highest Empire over your affections, is deservedly challenged alone by the most worthy Consort of your Royal Bed, herself likewise proceeding from a long descent of Kings. But sufficient it is to know she is THE DAUGHTER OF HENRY THE GREAT, AND THE SISTER OF LEWIS THE JUST; Whom, for dearest pledges already of either Sex; for the comeliness of chastest graces, and (which chief blesseth the nuptial bed) For congruity of dispositions, Your Majesty so religiously and so particularly doth love, that justly you appear to have passed from the Title of the best Patron to that of the best Husband.  
To Chastity, you have added Temperance, her nearest Companion: which in miserable and impotent men, who would not pass by with silence? but these in a King! in one so young! of such vigorous age! and in such a promptness of satisfying all desires, I know not whether we should more commend or admire them. Now, after these eulogies (which in part beget affection, in part also astonishment) to doubt once of the justness of your times, were most unjust. Yet shall I not think amiss to repeat a little at large, a thing of noble example, in a person of obscure condition. There fell out at London, I know not what tumult, for one rescued from the sergeants hands, whom for debt they were leading to Prison. Amidst those confusions, one or other (as oft it chances) died of sudden hurts; whereupon one John Stamford, a man of a ready hand (who had fatally run into the broil) was apprehended as guilty of murder: He wanted not intercessors of great power about your Majesty; and there seemed an assured hope of obtaining his pardon (as the vulgar believed) because he had attended on the Duke of Buckingham in his Chamber, and among the followers of his own condition, had been for some time very acceptable to his Lord, for his singular ability of body, and skill in wrestling, whereof the remembrance as then was fresh, which perchance had made the poor man the more audacious. But neither the intercessions of the living, nor the man's own well known valour, nor finally the remembrance of such a Favourite but lately dead, whom he had served, could prevail with Your Majesty above Justice, but that (which is glorious to speak) he concluded his life at the gallows. Fresher is the remembrance of that nobleman's Death, a Baron of very ancient lineage, who suffered publicly for a fact, unworthy of his Birth. But, if a witty Authors old observation may yet have place, that some examples are nobler, others greater, I should verily believe the Barons Nobler, but stamford Greater.  
But whither doth this pleasant meditation transport me, while I revolve these things? At Common-Law Your Majesty hath in the Courts of strict Justice, able Judges, which pronounce severely: you have also a most learned chancellor for right and equity (not inferior to the ancient praetors) who, for the people's relief, qualifieth that severity; But these are in distinct Courts placed apart. And if one should ask by chance, Why not together, since that might seem the more dispatching way? I will deliver my opinion: It was the Wish of our Ancestors (out of a most grave providence) that Justice and Lenity, which have their seat disjoined in the inferior Magistrate, might be consociated in the only breast of the sovereign. And truly so it is; for your Majesty being composed as it were, according to the wishes of those our forefathers, hath so tempered these together, that neither the evil presume, nor the good repine. Hitherto I would be understood to have only spoken of the restraint of common vices, which swarm in all parts of the world; for of more heinous transgressions among ourselves (by God's goodness) we have not a word, no not so much as a dream: we suffer under an excellent ignorance: we know not what a Rebel is; what a plotter against the Common-weal: nor what that is, which Grammarians call Treason: the names themselves are antiquated with the things: and (in truth) no marvel; for, what wretch (unless he were of all mortal men the most stupid and wicked, and as foolish as malicious) would violate the quiet of so just and pious a Moderator?  
Now as you maintain your Justice, (which I may call the health of your kingdom) in a most even balance, that is neither too much strething, nor slackening the Reins; so neither do you omit what concerneth security; The like else would befall Empires that happens to our bodies, which subsist dangerously, if nothing but mere health sustain them. Wherefore after a War with two mighty Kings together, with various event (as it chances in humane affairs) and quieted by new Consederations on either side; your principal care at home, was to repair the Maritime strength, as became the Defender of Insular kingdoms. Hence was the Navy Royal yearly more increased and furnished; and more commodious Harbours chosen for the Ships, and of read●…er issue upon sudden occasion; Your Majesty not only commanding, but with your own eyes surveying the places, as if in a matter of that moment you might scarce trust another man's: Then a more exact view of Arms then formerly had been used, and generally the Militia at set times much better trained.  
Amidst these things, it were unhandsome to pass by with silence that which the prudent of the time have noted; namely, that Your Majesty is more frequent at the counsels of State (as we call them) than any of our former Kings, except happily we cast back our eyes upon Edward the Sixth, whom they say, even in his Child hood, to have been seldom absent.  
In that assembly of your council, the chief Prelates add reverence, the Nobles chosen out of both kingdom's dignity.  
Some are there, whom foreign experience, some whom the knowledge of our Laws adorns: and the learned and faithful Sagacity of your Secretaries watched over all accidents; but above these, the presence itself of the sovereign breaths always, I know not what of happiness. Your presence only, have I said? That is little; yea, of those who participate in your Counsels, have I many times heard (not uninquisitive, I acknowledge, for which pardon me, I beseech you) how attentively (as often you are pleased to be present) you revolve things propounded; how patiently you hear, with how sharp judgement you ponder the particulars; how stiff you are (for I will use no milder word) in good resolutions, and how stout in great.  
Finally, in secret affairs, what a close secrecy you command, and how severely you exact an account thereof; in this also, your own example leading your commandment. For besides other, there are two things which Your Majesty hath most blessedly bound together; namely, There was ne●…r Prince since the Constitution of Empires, a safer preserver of a secret, and yet none whose secrecy and silence we less may fear; which we read anciently noted of that excellent man Julius Agricola, who was the first Roman that invaded the skirts of your Caledonia: for Your Majesty doth not nourish secretly in your bosom fierce and crafty thoughts, nor cover the embers of offence till they break forth into heat; but out of a high and most Noble candour, if any chance to be conceived, Your Majesty vents them, and (as I may say) exhales them. Truly I confess, I do not more willingly insist in the reverence of any of your virtues, then in this very attribute of your heroical ingenuity: for as the supreme Character of the MOST HIGH is Verity: so what can more become or more magnificently deck his REPRESENTANTS on earth, than Veracity itself?  
Hitherto we have observed your obsequiousness towards your Parents, constancy towards your Friends, fidelity towards your Consort, and towards cherishing of the Commonwealth, not only the affection of a King, but of a Father. Neither amidst these (as the condition of the times, and the perplexed state of things would bear) did you neglect the offices of an excellent Brother towards your only Sister, whom I have always thought the only Person of her Sex, greater than all troubles, and even by her obscurity the more resplendent: indeed, placed within the chances of Fortune, but out of her command: Whom how much Your Majesty loves, nay, how much you esteem, did appear by a late Ambassage, when in the depth of her Widow mournings, your Majesty, to carry her consolations, sent the chief of your Nobility, and him a Personage of most ancient virtue and behaviour; that to a most affectionate Legation, some addition might be made of Dignity, from the choice itself of the Ambassador. This of Consolation.  
Concerning her Support: did not Your Majesty give leave to a marquis of the chief Nobility in Scotland, though tied here to your Person by nea●… and assiduous Attendance, to exercise his valour abroad? through intricacies most studied, in such a stop of passages; through hazards by Sea and Land; through Places and Towns beset with Plague and Famine: where it was almost easier to conquer, then to get entrance, and harder to suffer, then to act? If after this, Success was wanting, yet was not the generous affection of a King; not the valour of his Subjects, not expenses of divers kinds; not Legations (the while) upon Legations, to appease (if it were possible) by equal conditions, and by friendly Treaty, the frenzy of the time: for the rest, we must repose ourselves in Solon's advice, Let no man glory before his End.  
Now amongst so many cares (wherewith even ●…e best of Kings are chief oppressed) it will not be ●…pleasant to inquire a little, how elegantly Your Majesty doth dispose your vacant hours.  
You delight in the use of the great Horse, whom already dressed, no man doth more skilfully manage; or better break, if rough and furious: Insomuch, as I doubt whether it were more aptly or deservedly done of him, who hath lately erected an Equestrian Statue to Your Majesty of solid brass, the lively work of Lisierius.  
To this I must add music, both instrumental and vocal, which under you grows every day more harmonious and accurate, as being fitted to the judgement of your ear. This (lest it should seem too tender a delight) you temper as it were with hunting. In which Image of War you do so exercise your vigorous spirits, that it is hard to say, whether you love the pleasure more, or the labour; or whether you had rather wish the kill, or the long standing of the Game.  
But the most splendid of all your entertainments, is your love of excellent Artificers, and Works: wherewith in either Art both of Picture and Sculpture you have so adorned your Palaces, that Italy (the greatest Mother of Elegant Arts) or at least (next the Grecians) the principal Nursery may seem by your magnificence to be translated into England.  
What can be more delightful than those sights? nay I am ready to ask, what more learned then to behold the tongueless eloquence of lights and shadows, and the silent poesy of lines, and (as it were) living Marbles? Here would the spectator swear the limbs and muscles designed by Tintoret to move; there the birds of Bassano to chirp, the oxe●… bellow, and the sheep to bleat: Here the faces of Rafael to breathe, and those of Titian even to speak: there a man would commend in Correggio delicateness, in Parmesano con●…innity. Neither do the Belgians want their praise; who if they paint landscapes, all kind of vegetables seem in their verdure; the flowers do smile, the hills are raised, the valleys in depression: In your Statuary work the like learned variety; of which some glory in a kind of vivacity, some in tenderness of parts; but those are the entertainment of your eye. Now to recreate your mind, sometimes a Book of choicest subject: but oftenest, Men you read, knowing full well how much it doth import a Prince to understand the conditions of his people. There are times also when you refresh your thoughts in the rehearsal of some ancient Epigr●…, with no less acuteness than they were composed.  
Thus have I cursor●…ly run over your serious times, and your rem●…ions: but the very pleasure I have taken in passing through these, though but very lightly, doth (I know not how) infuse into my pen now in motion, a new spirit, to represent (with Your majesty's leave) though it be but to myself, your true portraiture in little, and (as it were) in one short view together, which I thus conceive in my fancy.  
I may say your stature is next a just proportion; your body erect and active; your colour or complexion hath generally drawn more from the white Rose of York, than the red of Lancaster; your hair nearer brown than yellow; your brow proclaimeth much fidelity; a certain verecundious generosity graceth your eyes, not such as we read of Sylla, but of Pompey; in your gestures nothing of affectation; in your whole aspect no swelling, nothing boisterous, but an alluring and well becoming suavity: your alacrity and vigour, the celerity of your motions discovers; otherwise your affections are temperate, and demeanour well settled; most firm to your purposes and promises. Loving Truth, hating Vice; Just, Constant, courageous, and not simply so, but knowingly Good.  
Such you are; and being such; with what applause shall we receive you! Me thinks I see, when sometimes I compare together horrid and quiet Times, as often as Rich. the Third returned, perchance from his York, or further off, to London, and assembled his Peers about him; how the heads of Noblemen did hang! how pale their cheeks! What solicitous suspicions and murmurs they conferred together; as if suddenly some dismal Comet or inauspicious Star had risen above the Horizon! But contrariwise, the return of a just, and a good Prince, is in truth nothing else but the very approach of the Sun, when with his vernal beams he doth expel the deformed Winter, and with a gentle heat doth comfort and exhilarate all things about us.  
Live therefore, O King, to all that are good, most grateful. But in what wishes shall I end? After Trajan's times there was among the ancients (with whose example smitten, I have too boldly undertaken this small labour) under every renowned Emperor a form of acclamation in this kind, Long Mayst thou live, Antoninus; Long Mayst thou reign, Theodosius; happier than Augustus, better than Trajan: but let this be the concluding Character of Your majesty's time; That the things we can wish, are fewer than those we praise.  
Wherefore, when I have out of an ardent zeal only wished this, that Charles our excellent King and Master may reign and live like himself alone, and long; 
Be this the Conclusion,  
In what transcendent happiness were we,  
If know we would how fortunate we be!    


Robert Devereux Earl of Essex  
w. Dolle F.    

OF ROBERT DEVEREUX, Earl of ESSEX; AND GEORGE VILLIARS, Duke of Buckingham:  
Some Observations by way of PARALLEL, in the time of their estates of Favour.  
AMongst those Historical employments, whereunto I have devoted my later years, (for I read, that old men live more by memory then by hope) we thought it would be a little time not ill spent, to confer the Fortunes and the Natures of these two great Personages of so late knowledge. Wherein I intent to do them right with the truth thereof, and myself with the freedom.  
The beginning of the Earl of Essex I must attribute wholly or in great part to my Lord of Leicester; but yet as an Introducer, or supporter, not as a Teacher: for as I go along, it will easily appear, that he neither lived nor died by his discipline. Always certain it is, that he drew him first into the fatal Circle from a kind of resolved privateness at his house at Lampsie, in South-wales; where, after the Academical life, he had taken such a taste of the Rural, as I have heard him say, (and not upon any flashes or fumes of melancholy, or traverses of discontent, but in a serene and quiet mood) that he could well have bend his mind to a retired course. About which time, the said Earl of Leicester bewrayed a meaning to plant him in the Queen's favour; which was diversely interpreted by such as thought that great artisan of Court to do nothing by chance, nor much by affection. Some therefore were of opinion, that feeling more and more in himself the weight of time, and being almost tired (if there be a satiety in Power) with that assiduous attendance, and intensive circumspection which a long indulgent fortune did require, he was grown not unwilling, for his own ease, to bestow handsomely upon another some part of the pains, and perhaps of the envy.  
Others conceived rather, that having before for the same ends brought in, or let in Sir Walter Raleigh, and having found him such an apprentice as knew well enough how to set up for himself, he now meant to ally him with this young Earl, who had yet taken no strong impressions. For though the said Sir Walter Raleigh was a little before this, whereof I now speak by occasion, much fallen from his former splendour in Court: yet he still continued in some lustre of a favoured man, like billows that sink by degrees, even when the wound is down that first stirred them.  
Thus runs the discourse of that time at pleasure. Yet I am not ignorant, that there was some good while a very stiff aversation in my Lord of Essex from applying himself to the Earl of Leicester, for what secret conceit I know not; but howsoever, that humour was mollified by time; and by his Mother; and to the Court he came under his lee.  
The Duke of Buckingham had another kind of Germination; and surely had he been a Plant, he would have been reckoned among the Sponte nascentes, for he sprung without any help, by a kind of congenial composure (as we may term it) to the likeness of our late sovereign and Master of ever blessed memory; who taking him into his regard, taught him more and more to please himself, and moulded him, (as it were) Platonically, to his own Idea; delighting first in the choice of the Materials, because he found him susceptible of good form; and afterward by degrees, as great Architects use to do, in the workmanship of his Regal hand: nor staying here, after he had hardened and polished him about ten years in the School of observance, (for so a Court is) and in the furnace of trial about himself, (for he was a King could peruse men as well as books) he made him the associate of his Heir apparent, together with the now Lord Cottington (as an adjunct of singular experience and trust) in foreign travels, and in a business of Love, and of no equal hazard (if the tenderness of our zeal did not then deceive us;) enough (the world must confess) to kindle affection even betwixt the distantest conditions; so as by the various and inward conversation abroad, (besides that before and after at home) with the most constant and best natured Prince, Bona si sua nôrint, as ever England enjoyed, this Duke becomes now secondly seized of favour, as it were by descent (though the condition of that estate be commonly no more than a Tenancy at will, or at most for the life of the first Lord) and rarely transmitted: which I have briefly set down, without looking beyond the vail of the Temple, I mean, into the secret of high inclinations; since even satirical Poets, (who are otherwise of so licentious fancy) are in this point modest enough to confess their ignorance. 
Nescio quid certè est quod me tibi temperet Astrum.   
And these were both their springings and impriming, as I may call them.  
In the profluence or proceed of their fortunes, I observe likewise not only much difference between them; but in the Earl, not a little from himself. First, all his hopes of advancement had like to be strangled almost in the very Cradle, by throwing himself into the Portugal Voyage without the Queen's consent, or so much as her knowledge; whereby he left his friends and dependants near six months in desperate suspense what would become of him. And to speak truth, not without good reason: For first, they might well consider, That he was himself not well plumed in favour for such a flight: Besides, That now he wanted a Lord of Leicester at home (for he was dead the year before) to smooth his absence, and to quench the practices at Court. But above all, it lay open to every man's discourse, that though the bare offence to his sovereign and mistress was too great an adventure; yet much more, when she might (as in this case) have fairly discharged her displeasure upon her Laws. Notwithstanding, a noble report coming home before him, at his return all was clear, and this excursion was esteemed but a Sally of youth: Nay, he grew every day more and more in her gracious conceit: whether such intermissions as these do sometimes foment affection; or that, having committed a fault, he became the more obsequious and pliant to redeem it: Or that she yet had not received into her Royal breast any shadows of his popularity.  
There was another time long after, when Sir Fulke Grevill (late Lord Brook) a man in appearance intrinsecal with him, or at the least admitted to his melancholy hours, either belike espying some weariness in the Queen, or perhaps (with little change of the word, though more in the danger) some wariness towards him; and working upon the present matter (as he was dexterous and close) had almost super-induced into favour the Earl of Southampton; which yet being timely discovered, my Lord of Essex chose to evaporate his thoughts in a Sonnet (being his common way) to be sung before the Queen, (as it was) by one Hales, in whose voice she took some pleasure; whereof the complot, me thinks, had as much of the Hermit as of the poet. 
And if thou shouldst by her be now forsaken,  
She made thy Heart too strong for to be shaken.   
As if he had been casting one eye back at the least to his former retiredness. But all this likewise quickly vanished, and there was a good while after fair weather overhead. Yet still, I know not how, like a gathering of Clouds, till towards his latter time, when his humours grew Tart, as being now in the Lees of favour, it broke forth into certain sudden recesses; sometimes from the Court to Wansteed, otherwhiles unto Greenwich, often to his own Chamber; Doors shut, Visits forbidden, and which was worse, divers Contestations (between) even with the Queen herself, (all preambles of ruin;) wherewith, though now and then he did wring out of her Majesty some petty contentments, (as a man would press sour Grapes) yet in the mean time was forgotten the Counsel of a Wise, and then a Prophetical Friend, who told him, that such courses as those were like hot Waters, which help at a pang, but if they be too often used, will spoil the stomach.  
On the Duke's part, we have no such abrupt strains and precipees as these, but a fair fluent and uniform course under both Kings: And surely, as there was in his natural Constitution a marvellous equality, whereof I shall speak more afterwards; so there was an image of it in his Fortune, running (if I may borrow an ancient comparison) as smoothly as a numerous Verse, till it met with certain Rubs in Parliament, whereof I am induced by the very Subject which I handle, to say somewhat, so far as shall concern the difference between their times.  
When my Lord of Essex stood in favour, the Parliaments were calm: Nay, I find it a true observation, that there was no Impeachment of any Nobleman by the Commons from the Reign of King Henry the sixth, until the eighteenth of King James, nor any intervenient precedent of that Nature; not that something or other could be wanting to be said, while men are men: For not to go higher, we are taught easily so much by the very Ballads and Libels of the Leicestrian time.  
But about the aforesaid Year, many young ones being chosen into the House of Commons, more than had been usual in great counsels, (who though of the weakest wings, yet are the highest Flyers) there arose a certain unfortunate and unfruitful Spirit in some places; not sowing, but picking at every stone in the Field, rather than tending to the general Harvest. And thus far the consideration of the Nature of the Time hath transported me, and the occasion of the Subject.  
Now on the other side, I must with the like liberty observe two weighty and watchful Solicitudes (as I may call them) which kept the Earl in extreme and continual Caution, like a Bow still bend; whereof the Duke's thoughts were absolutely free.  
First, he was to wrestle with a Queen's declining, or rather with her very setting Age (as we may term it,) which, besides other respects, is commonly even of itself the more umbratious and apprehensive, as for the most part all orisons are charged with certain Vapours towards their Evening.  
The other was a matter of more Circumstance, standing thus, viz.  
All Princes, especially those whom God hath not blessed with natural issue, are (by wisdom of State) somewhat shy of their Successors; and to speak with do Reverence, there may be reasonably supposed in Queens Regnant, a little proportion of tenderness that way, more than in Kings. Now there were in Court two names of Power, and almost of Faction; the Essexian, and the Cecilian, with their adherents; both well enough enjoying the present, and yet both looking to the future, and therefore both holding correspondency with some of the principal in Scotland, and had received advertisements and instructions, either from them, or immediately from the King, as indubiate Heir of this Imperial Crown.  
But lest they might detect one another; this was Mysteriously carried by several instruments and conducts, and on the Essexian side, in truth, with infinite hazard: for Sir Robert Cecil, who (as Secretary of State) did dispose the public Addresses, had prompter and safer conveyance; whereupon I cannot but relate a memorable passage on either part, as the story following shall declare.  
The Earl of Essex had accommodated Master Anthony Bacon in partition of his House, and had assigned him a noble entertainment: This was a Gentleman of impotent feet, but a nimble head, and through his hand ran all the intelligences with Scotland; who being of a provident nature (contrary to his Brother the Lord Viscount St. Albon) and well knowing the advantage of a dangerous Secret, would many times cunningly let fall some words, as if he could much amend his Fortunes under the Cecilians (to whom he was near of alliance and in blood also) and who had made (as he was not unwilling should be believed) some great proffers to win him away: which once or twice he pressed so far, and with such tokens and signs of apparent discontent to my Lord Henry Howard, afterwards Earl of Northampton, (who was of the party, and stood himself inmuch Umbrage with the Queen) that he flies presently to my Lord of Essex (with whom he was commonly primae admissionis, by his bed side in the morning) and tells him, that unless that Gentleman were presently satisfied with some round sum, all would be vented.  
This took the Earl at that time ill provided (as indeed oftentimes his Coffers were low) whereupon he was fain suddenly to give him Essex-House; which the good old Lady Walsingham did afterwards disengage out of her own store with 2500 pound; and before, he had distilled 1500 pound at another time by the same skill. So as we may rate this one Secret, as it was finely carried, at 4000 pounds in present money, besides at the least 1000 pound of annual pension to a private and bedrid Gentleman: What would he have gotten if he could have gone about his own business?  
There was another accident of the same nature on the Cecilian side, much more pleasant, but less chargeable, for it cost nothing but wit. The Queen having for a good while not heard any thing from Scotland, and being thirsty of news, it fell out that her Majesty going to take the air towards the Heath (the Court being then at Greenwich) and Master Secretary Cecil then attending her, a Post came crossing by, and blew his Horn, The Queen out of curiosity asked him from whence the Dispatch came, and being answered, From Scotland; she stops the Coach, and calleth for the Packet. The Secretary, though he knew there were i●… it some Letters from his Correspondents, which to discover, were as so many Serpents; yet made more show of diligence, then of doubt to obey; and asks some that stood by (forsooth in great haste) for a knife to cut up the Packet (for otherwise he might perhaps have awaked a little apprehension;) but in the mean time approaching with the Packet in his hand, at a pretty distance from the Queen, he telleth her, it looked and smelled illfavouredly, coming out of a filthy budget, and that it should be fit first to open and air it, because he knew she was a verse from ill scents. And so being dismissed home, he got leisure by this seasonable shift, to sever what he would not have seen.  
These two accidents, precisely true, and known to few, I have reported as not altogether extravagant from my purpose, to show how the Earl stood in certain perplexities, wherewith the Duke's days were not distracted. And this hath been the Historical part (as it were) touching the difference between them in the rising and flowing of their fortunes.  
I will now consider their several endowments both of Person and Mind, and then a little of their Actions and Ends.  
The Earl was a pretty deal the taller, and much the stronger, and of the abler body: But the Duke had the neater limbs and freer delivery; he was also the uprighter, and of the more comely motions; for the Earl did bend a little in the neck, though rather forwards, then downwards: and he was so far from being a good Dancer, that he was no graceful goer. If we touch particulars, the Duke exceeded in the daintiness of his leg and foot, and the Earl in the incomparable fairness and fine shape of his hands; which (though it be but feminine praise) he took from his Father: For the general Air, the Earl had the closer and more reserved Countenance, being by nature somewhat more cogitative, and (which was strange) never more than at meals, when others are lest: Insomuch, as he was wont to make his observation of himself, that to solve any knotty business which cumbered his mind, his ablest hours were when he had checked his first appetite with two or three morsels, after which he sat usually for a good while silent: yet he would play well and willingly at some games of greatest attention, which shown that when he listed, he could licence his thoughts.  
The Duke on the other side, even in the midst of so many diversions, had continually a very pleasant and vacant face (as I may well call it) proceeding no doubt from a singular assurance in his temper. And yet I must here give him a rarer elegy, which the malignest eye cannot deny him, That certainly, never man in his place and power, did entertain greatness more familiarly, nor whose looks were less tainted with his felicity; wherein I insist the rather, because this in my judgement was one of his greatest virtues and victories of himself.  
But to proceed, in the attiring and ornament of their bodies, the Duke had a fine and unaffected politeness, and upon occasion costly, as in his Legations.  
The Earl, as he grew more and more attentive to business and matters, so less and less curious of clothing: Insomuch, as I do remember, those about him had a conceit, that possibly sometimes when he went up to the Queen, he might scant know what he had on; for this was his manner: His Chamber being commonly stived with Friends or suitors of one kind or other, when he was up, he gave his legs, arms, and breast to his ordinary servants to button and dress him, with little heed, his head and face to his Barber, his eyes to his letters, and ears to Petitioners, and many times all at once; then the Gentleman of his Robes throwing a cloak over his shoulders, he would make a step into his Closet, and after a short prayer, he was gone: only in his Baths, he was somewhat delicate. For point of diet and luxury, they were both very inordinate in their appetites, especially the Earl, who was by nature of so indifferent a taste, that I must tell a rare thing of him (though it be but a homely note) that he would stop in the midst of any physical Potion, and after he had licked his lips, he would drink off the rest; but I am weary of such slight Animadversions.  
To come therefore to the inward furniture of their Minds, I will thus much declare.  
The Earl was of good Erudition, having been placed at study in Cambridge very young by the Lord Burleigh, his Guardian, with affectionate and deliberate care, under the oversight of Doctor Whitgift, than Master of Trinity college, and after Archbishop of Canterbury: A man (by the way) surely of most Reverend and Sacred memory, and (as I may well say) even of the Primitive temper; when the Church by lowliness of spirit, did flourish in high examples: which I have inserted as a due recordation of his virtues, having been much obliged to him for many favours in my younger time.  
About sixteen years of his age, (for thither he came at twelve) he took the formality of Master of Arts, and kept his public Acts. And here I must not smother what I have received by constant Information, That his own Father died with a very cold conceit of him; some say, through the affection to his second son Walter Devereux, who was indeed a diamond of the time, and both of an hardy and delicate temper and mixture: But it seems, this Earl, like certain vegetables, did bud and open slowly; Nature sometimes delighting to play an afrer-game as well as Fortune, which had both their turns and tides in course.  
The Duke was Illiterate, yet had learned at Court, first to sift and question well, and to supply his own defects, by the drawing or flowing unto him of the best Instruments of experience and knowledge, from whom he had a sweet and attractive manner, to suck what might be for the public or his own proper use; so as the less he was favoured by the Muses, he was the more by the Graces.  
To consider them in their pure Naturals, I conceive the Earls Intellectual faculties to have been his stronger part, and in the Duke his Practical.  
Yet all know, that he likewise at the first was much under the expectation of his after-proof; such a Solar influence there is in the sovereign aspect. For their Abilities of discourse or pen, the Earl was a very acute and sound speaker when he would intent it; and for his writings, they are beyond example, especially in his familiar Letters and things of delight at Court, when he would admit his serious habits, as may be yet seen in his Impresses and Inventions of entertainment, and above all in his darling piece of love, and self love; his style was an elegant perspicuity, rich of phrase, but seldom any bold Metaphors; and so far from Tumour, that it rather wanted a little Elevation.  
The Duke's delivery of his mind, I conceive not to be so sharp, as solid and grave; not so solid and deep, as pertinent, and apposite to the times and occasions.  
The Earl I account the more liberal, and the Duke the more magnificent; for I do not remember that my Lord of Essex in all his life time did build or adorn any house, the Queen perchance spending his time, and himself his means; or otherwise inclining to popular ways; for we know the people are apt to applaud housekeepers, than house-raisers. They were both great cherishers of Scholars and Divines; but it seems the Earl had obtained of himself one singular point, that he could departed his affection between two extremes: for though he bore always a kind of filial reverence towards Dr. Whitgift, both before and after he was Archbishop; yet on the other side, he did not a little love and tender Mr. Cartwright, though I think truly, with large distinction between the Persons and the Causes, however he was taxed with other ends in respecting that party.  
They were both fairspoken Gentlemen, not prone and eager to detract openly from any man; and in this the Earl hath been most falsely blemished in our vulgar Story: only against one man he had forsworn all patience, namely Henry Lord Cobham, and would call him (per Excellentiam) the Sycophant (as if it had been an emblem of his name) even to the Queen herself, though of no small insinuation with her; and one Lady likewise (that I may civilly spare to nominate, for her sex sake) whom he used to term the Spider of the Court: yet generally in the sensitive part of their Natures, the Earl was the worst Philosopher, being a great Resenter, and a weak Dissembler of the least disgrace: And herein likewise, as in the rest, no good Pupil to my Lord of Leicester, who was wont to put all his passions in his pocket.  
In the growth of their Fortunes, the Duke was a little the swifter, and much the greater; for from a younger Brothers mean estate, he risen to the highest degree whereof a Subject was capable, either in Title or Trust. Therein I must confess, much more consortable to Charles Brandon under Henry the Eight, who was equal to him in both.  
For matter of Donative and addition of substance, I do not believe that the Duke did much exceed him, all considered, under both Kings.  
For that which the Earl of Essex had received from her Majesty, besides the Fees of his Offices, and the disposition of great sums of money in her Armies, was (about the time of his Arraignment, when faults use to be aggravated with precedent benefits) valued at three hundred thousand pounds sterling in pure gift for his only use, by the Earl of Dorset, than Lord Treasurer; who was a wise man, and a strict Computist, and not well affected towards him. And yet it is worthy of note in the margin of both Times, that the one was prosecuted with silence, and the other with murmur; So undoing a measure is popular judgement!  
I cannot here omit between them a great difference in establishing of both their Fortunes and Fames.  
For the first: the Duke had a care to introduce into near place at the Court divers of his confident Servants, and into high places very sound and grave Personages. Whereas, except a Pensioner or two, we can scant name any one man advanced of the Earls breeding, but Sir Thomas Smith, having been his Secretary; who yet came never further (though married into a noble House) then to the Clerk of the council, and Register of the Parliament: not that the Earl meant to stand alone like a Substantive (for he was not so ill a Grammarian in Court;) but the Truth is in this point, the Cecilians kept him back, as very well knowing that upon every little absence or disassiduity, he should be subject to take cold at his back.  
For the other, in the managing of their Fames, I note between them a direct contrary wisdom; For the Earl proceeded by way of Apology, which he wrote and dispersed with his own hands at large, though till his going to Ireland they were but airy objections. But of the Duke this I know, that one a●…ing offered for his ease to do him that kind of Service; He refused it with a pretty kind of thankful scorn, saying, that he would trust his own good intentions which God knew, and leave to him the pardoning of his errors; and that he saw no fruit of Apologies, but the multiplying of discourse; which surely was a well settled maxim. And for my own particular (though I am not obnoxious to his memory, in the expression of Tacitus, Neque injuria, neque beneficio, saving that he shown me an ordinary good Countenance: And if I were, yet I would distinguish between Gratitude and Truth) I must bear him this Testimony, that in a Commission laid upon me by sovereign Command, to examine a Lady about a certain filthy accusation, grounded upon nothing but a few single names taken up by a footman in a kennel, and strait baptised, [A list of such as the Duke had appointed to be poisoned at home, himself being then in Spain:] I found it to be the most malicious and frantic surmise, and the most contrary to his nature, that I think had ever been brewed from the beginning of the World, how soever countenanced by a Libellous Pamphlet of a fugitive Physician even in Print; and yet of this would not the Duke suffer any answer to be made on his behalf, so constant he was to his own principles.  
In their Military Services, the Characters of the Earls employments were these, viz.  
His forwardest, was that of Portugal, before mentioned.  
The saddest, that of Rouen, where he lost his brave Brother.  
His fortunatest piece I esteem the taking of Cadiz Malez, and no less modest; for there he wrote with his own hands a censure of his Omissions.  
His jealousest employment was to the relief of Calais, besieged by the Cardinal archduke: about which, there passed then between the Queen and the French King much Art.  
His Voyage to the Azores was the best, for the discovery of the Spanish weakness, and otherwise almost a saving Voyage.  
His blackest was that to Ireland, ordained to be the Sepulchre of his Father, and the gulf of his own Fortunes.  
But the first, in 88, at Tilbury Camp, was in my judgement, the very poison of all that followed; for there whilst the Queen stood in some doubt of a Spanish invasion (though it proved but a morris-dance upon our Waves) she made him in Field Commander of the Cavalry (as he was before in Court,) and much graced him openly in view of the soldiers and people, even above my Lord of L●…icester: the truth is, from thenceforth he fed too fast.  
The Duke's employment abroad in this nature, was only in the Action of the Isle of Reez, of which I must note somewhat for the honour of our country, and of His majesty's times, and of them that perished and survived, and to redeem it generally from misunderstanding. Therefore after enquiry amongst the wisest and most indifferent men, of that Action, I dare pronounce, that all Circumstances pondered, A tumultuary landing on our part, with about 1000 in the whole; On theirs, ready to receive us, some 200 Horse, with near 2000 Foot, and watching their best time of advantage, none of their Foot discovered by us before, nor so much as suspected, and only some of their Horse descried straggling, but not in any bulk or body; their Cavalry not a Troop of Biscoigners, mounted in haste, but the greater part Gentlemen of Family, and of picked Resolution, and such as charged home both in Front and on both Flanks into the very sea; about sixscore of their 200 Horse strewed upon the Sand, and none of them but one killed with a great shot; and after this, their Foot likewise coming on to charge, till not liking the business, they fell to flinging of stones, and so walked away.  
I say, these things considered and laid together, we have great reason to repute it a great impression upon an unknown place, and a noble argument, that upon occasion, we have not lost our Ancient vigour. Only I could wish that the Duke, who then in the animating of the soldiers shown them very eminent assurance of his valour, had afterwards remembered that rule of Apelles, Manum de Tabula. But he was greedy of honour, and hot upon the public ends, and too confident in the prosperity of beginnings, as somewhere Polybius, that great critic of war, observeth of young Leaders, whom fortune hath not before deceived.  
In this their Military care and dispensation of reward and punishment, there was very few remarkable occasions under the Duke, saving his continual vigilancy and voluntary hazard of his person, and kindnesses to the soldiers, both from his own table and purse; for there could be few disorders within an Island where the Troops had no scope to disband, and the inferior Commanders were still in sight.  
In the Earl we have two examples of his severity, the one in the Island Voyage, where he threw a soldier with his own hand out of a Ship; the other in Ireland, where he decimated certain Troops that ran away, renewing a piece of the Roman Discipline.  
On the other side, we have many of his Lenity, and one of his Facility, when he did connive at the bold Trespass of Sir Walter Raleigh, who before his own arrival at Fayall, had landed there against his precise Commandment; at which time he let fall a Noble word, being pressed by one, (whose name I need not remember) that at the least he would put him upon a Martial Court: That I would do (said he) if he were my friend.  
And now I am drawing towards the last act, which was written in the Book of necessity.  
At the Earls end I was abroad, but when I came home (though little was left for Writers to glean after Judges) yet, I spent some curiosity to search what it might be that could precipitate him into such a prodigious Catastrophe; and I must, according to my professed freedom, deliver a circumstance or two of some weight in the truth of that story, which was neither discovered at his arraignment, nor after in any of his private confessions.  
There was amongst his nearest attendants, one Henry Cuffe, a man of secret ambitious ends of his own, and of proportionate Counsels smothered under the habit of a Scholar, and slubbered over with a certain rude and clownish fashion, that had the semblance of integrity.  
This Person, not above five or six weeks before my Lords fatal irruption into the City, was by the Earls Special Command suddenly discharged from all further attendance, or access unto him, out of an inward displeasure then taken against his sharp and importune infusions, and out of a glimmering oversight, that he would prove the very Instrument of his ruin.  
I must add hereunto, that about the same time my Lord had received from the Countess of Warwick (a Lady powerful in the Court, and indeed a virtuous user of her power) the best advice that I think was ever given from either Sex; That when he was free from Restraint, he should closely take any out-lodging at Greenwich, and sometimes when the Queen went abroad in a good humour, (whereof she would give him notice) he should come forth, and humble himself before Her in the Field.  
This Counsel sunk much into him, and for some days he resolved it: but in the mean time, through the intercession of the Earl of Southampton, whom Cuffe had gained, he was restored to my Lord's ear, and so working advantage upon his disgraces, and upon the vain foundation of vulgar breath, which hurts many good men, spun out the final destruction of his Master and himself, and almost of his Restorer, if his pardon had not been won by inches.  
True it is, that the Earl in Westminster-hall did in general disclose the evil persuasions of this man; but the particulars which I have related of his dismission and restitution, he buried in his own breast for some reasons apparent enough; indeed (as I conjecture) not to exasperate the Case of my Lord of Southampton, though he might therewith a little peradventure have mollified his own. The whole and true Report I had by infallible means from the person himself that both brought the advice from the aforesaid excellent Lady, and carried the discharge to Cuff●…, who in a private Chamber was strucken therewith into a swoon almost dead to the earth, as if he had fallen from some high Steeple: such Turrets of hope he had built in his own Fancy.  
Touching the Duke's sudden period, how others have represented it unto their Fancies, I cannot determine: for my part, I must confess from my soul, that I never recall it to mind without a deep and double astonishment of my discourse and reason:  
First of the very horror and atrocity of the Fact in a Christian Court, under so moderate a Government; but much more at the impudence of the pretence, whereby a desperate discontented Assassinate would after the perpetration have honested a mere private revenge (as by precedent circumstances is evident enough) with I know not what public respects, and would fain have given it a Parliamentary cover. Howsoever, thus these two great Peers were dis-robed of their Glory, the one by judgement, the other by violence, which was the small distinction.  
Now after this short contemplation of their diversities (for much more might have been spoken, but that I was fit for rhapsody then Commentary) I am lastly desirous to take a summary view of their Conformities, which I verily believe will be found as many, though perchance heeded by few, as are extant in any of the ancient Parallel.  
They both slept long in the arms of Fortune: They were both of ancient blood, and of foreign extraction: They were both of strait and goodly stature, and of able and active bodies: They were both industrious and assiduous, and attentive to their ends: They were both early Privy-Councellors, and employed at home in the secretest and weightiest affairs in Court and State: They were both likewise Commanders abroad in Chief, as well by Sea, as by Land: both Masters of the Horse at home, both chosen chancellors of the same University, namely, Cambridge: They were both indubitable strong, and highminded men; yet of sweet and accostable Nature, almost equally delighting in the press and affluence of Dependants and suitors, which are always the burrs, and sometimes the Briers of Favourites. They were both married to very virtuous Ladies, and sole Heirs, and left issue of their Sex, and both their Wives converted to contrary Religions. They were both in themselves rare and excellent examples of Temperance and Sobriety; but neither of them of Continency.  
Lastly, after they had been both subject (as all Greatness and splendour is) to certain obloquys of their actions; They both concluded their earthly felicity in unnatural ends, and with no great distance of time in the space either of life or favour.  
And so having discharged this poor Exercise of my Pen according to my Knowledge and Reality, let us commit those two noble Peers to their Eternal rest, with their memorable abilities remaining in few, and their compassionate infirmities common to all.   

THE DIFFERENCE AND DISPARITY Between the Estates and Conditions OF GEORGE Duke of BUCKINGHAM, AND ROBERT Earl of ESSEX.  Written by the Earl of Clarendon in his younger days. 
THough it shall appear an unseasonable itch of Wit to say aught in this Subject, and an unskilful one, if invention reach not what is already said, with all the swelling eulogies that shall attend all that fall from that Pen; yet I shall presume (disavowing only the vanities) to think that in the severest considerations of their Persons, in their Educations, in their Insinuations into favour, in managing that Favour, in their whole Education (but that they were both glorious in the eyes of their Princes) they were as distant, as unfit, as impossible for Parallels, as any two virtuous and great persons (for so they were both) we can direct our discourse to. Their engagements, encumbrances, and disadvantages, being so different, that it was the just wonder (and yet continues) of the world, that the Earl could everfall, (his whole fate being in the discretion of his own soul;) and the Duke (who all his life of favour, stood the mark shot at by the most petulant and malicious spirits this Climate ever nourished) could stand so long.  
He that shall walk in a short survey of both their times, actions, and dependencies, shall find them these.  
Though the first approach of the Earl to Court was under the shadow of the Great Earl of Leicester, yet he owned him rather for his invitation thither, than his preferment there.  
For no question, he found advantage from the stock of his father's Reputation; the people looking on his quality with reverence (for I do not find that any young Nobleman had yet surprised their hopes, or drawn their eyes) and on his youth with pity; for they were nothing satisfied concerning his father's death, who had been advanced to honourable dangers by the mediation of such as delighted not in his company; as it was the mysterious wisdom of those times to poison with oil, & homines per honores ferire. And if there were not any such compassion in the Queen, yet surely she beheld him as the son of an excellent man, that died in her service, and had left a precious fame surviving.  
In the Court he stayed not above a year, but undertook that journey into the Low countries with his Father-in-law, and went General of the Horse in a great Army, though he was not full nineteen years of age, there being then no such criticisms as interpreted the acceptance or pursuit even of the greatest dignity and command, a conspiracy against the State; but all men were glad to see him set himself so brave a task, by undertaking such an employment.  
From this first action he took a Charter of the people's hearts, which was never cancelled; but as if they had looked only on the boldness, not the success of his enterprises, he was sure to return with triumph, though the Voyage miscarried: for amongst all his foreign undertake, if they be weighed in the people's usual Scale, the Cost, though there was not above one or two prosperous returns, and as many that had sad and calamitous issues; yet he never suffered the least public imputation or murmur; but was received with that joy, as if the Fleet or Army were sent out to bring him home, not any spoil or conquest, (to which he had wholly dedicated his faculties.)  
He moved only in his proper Orb; out of it he was extra sphaeram activitatis, and rather of much business, (as a man towards whom the Queen had directed some rays of affection) then of much dexterity above other men.  
Surely, I by no means imagine him built or furnished for a Courtier.  
For however the Arts and mysteries of a Court are undefinable, yet as in the reformation and improvement of all Sciences, there are certain principles and maxims unalterable and unquestionable, so there is a certain comparity, conformity, and complacency in the manners, and a discreet subtlety in the composition, without which (as with those principles) no man in any Age or Court shall be eminent in the Aulical function.  
Now how ill the Earl was read in this Philosophy, his servant Cuffe (whose observations were sharp enough, whatever Stoicismes raved in his nature) well discerned, when he said, Amorem & odium semper in front gessit, nec celare novit.  
And I shall not impute it to his want of will (though that would be but an ill argument, for his Courtship) nor of power, for he did many greater things; but only of skill to contrive conveniences of honours and preferments at Court, for such friends as might have been good outworks to have fortified and secured his own condition, except all his dependants were of another complexion than could have lived in that Air.  
And indeed, I do not find that the Earl much inclined to, or desired the reputation of a Courtier, besides the preservation of himself, and the Queen's affection (which yet he endeavoured rather to master, then to win;) but he seemed, though he had such places of honour and attendance as be the most significant badges of a Courtier, but in pace belli gerere negotium, and retired only from the War to prevent Peace.  
Then if we visit his correspondencies abroad (which he rather maintained out of state, then contrived out of skill) we shall see they were always with an eye upon actions, and his Intelligences had ever some hint of Tumult and Commotion; as if the King of Spain was loud or frantic at his devotions, as when he vowed at Mass, that he would be revenged of England, though he sold all those Candlesticks upon the Altar: This Information was given by the Earl. But it was observed then, that if there were aught intended against the Life or Person of the Queen, though it were in the Court of Spain, where the Earl had especially his Leigiers, the first notice came over by my Lord Cecil, for whom (indeed) it seemed as necessary there should be treasons, as for the State that they should be prevented. Insomuch as it was then (how unjustly soever) conceived, that though he created none, yet he fomented some conspiracies, that he might give frequent evidences of his loyalty, having no other advantage (as the Earl and others had in person) to justify him in an ordinary estimation, but by eminent services.  
And those he knew must be best relished, that concerned her own preservation; and therefore in the least vacations from Treasons, he was ever busy to set on foot some vigilant and tender Law (as there was scarce any Parliament, without some such) that had a peculiar eye to the Queen's safety. Which (however they are by such as cannot apprehend the danger of those times, looked upon without much reverence) could not but make singular impression in the Queen's heart of his fidelity.  
The encumbrances that the Earl had to wrestle withal (for I shall only look over his life without particular enquiry into his actions, which had all glorious ends, or glorious intentions) were fewer then ever any great man ever met withal, and his advantages more in number, and in weight.  
'Tis true, he was rivalled by a strong and subtle faction, which cared and consulted for his ruin, as a foundation they must build upon; and were intent to betray him abroad, and misinterpret him at home: yet the danger was thus allayed, that they were all his public and professed enemies, and so known unto the Queen, that they durst never impertinently urge aught against him, since they were sure their malice was concluded, when the reason of their objection happily might not be considered.  
And indeed, that trick of countenancing and protecting factions (as that Queen almost her whole Reign did with singular and equal demonstration of grace look upon several persons of most distinct wishes one towards another) was not the least ground of much of her quiet and success. And she never doubted but that men that were never so opposite in their good will each to others, nor never so dishonest in their projectments for each others confusion, might yet be reconciled into their Allegiance towards her. Insomuch, that during her whole Reign, she never endeavoured to reconcile any personal differences in the Court, though the unlawful emulations of persons of nearest trust about her, were even like to overthrow some of her chiefest designs. A Policy seldom entertained by Princes, especially if they have issues to survive them.  
Among the advantages the Earl had (and he had many that will distinguish him from any man that hath, or is likely to succeed him) I shall rank the nature and the spirit of that time in the first place. For I shall not mention his Interest in the Queen's favour, till the last, which shall appear greatest by the circumstances that lost it.  
'Twas an ingenuous un-inquisitive time, when all the passions and affections of the people were lapped up in such an innocent and humble obedience, that there was never the least contestations, nor capitulations with the Queen, nor (though she very frequently consulted with her Subjects) any further reasons urged of her actions, than her own will.  
When there were any grievances, they but reverently conveyed them to her notice, and left the time and order of the rest to her Princely discretion. Once they were more importunate and formal in pursuing the complaints of the purveyors for provision, which without question was a crying and an heavy oppression: The Queen sent them wor●…, they all thought themselves wise enough to reform the misdemeanours of their own families, and wished that they had so good opinion of her, as to trust her with her servants too. I do not find that the Secretary who delivered this Message, received any reproach or check, or that they proceeded any further in their inquisition. In this excellent time the Queen's remarkable Grace endeared the Earl to the regard of the people, which he quickly improved to a more tender estimation; neither was this affection of theirs ever an objection against him, till himself took too much notice of it; for the Queen had ever loved her people without the least scruple of jealousy, nor was ever offended if he was the darling of their eyes, till she suspected he inclined to be the darling of their hearts.  
In his Friendships he was so fortunate, that though he contracted with ancient enemies, and such as he had undeserved by some unkindness, as grievous as injurious, it is not known that ever he was betrayed in his trust, or had ever his secrets derived unhandsomely to any ears that they were not intended to: and this, if he had not planted himself upon such, whose zeal to his service was more remarkable than their other abilities, would have preserved him from so prodigious a fate.  
Lastly, he had so strong an harbour in the Queen's breast, that notwithstanding these dangerous indiscretions of committing himself in his recreations and shooting-matches to the public view of so many thousand Citizens, which usually flocked to see him, and made within the reach of his own ears large acclamations in his praise; notwithstanding his receiving into his troop of attendance, and under that shadow bringing into the Court, divers persons not liked by the Queen, and some that had been in prison for suspicion of Treason, as Captain Wainman; and then his glorious feather-triumph, when he caused two thousand Orange-tawny Feathers, in despite of Sir Walter Raleigh, to be worn in the tiltyard, even before Her Majesties own face (all which would have found regret in the stomaches of most Princes:) yet neither these, nor any whispers that were distilled into the Queen's ears (for aught appears) ever lessened him in her highness' regard, till he committed such strange mistakes as ever have been prosecuted with most exemplary punishments by the laws themselves: which (though in jealousy of Princes, they oft compound Treasons out of circumstances and possibilities) yet are as tender of the reputation of great men as in any Commonwealth whatsoever.  
If toward his period the Queen grew a less merciful interpreter of his failings and successes; 'twas when she believed he grew too familiar, and in love with his passions, and had a mind not to be satisfied but upon his conditions, and too insensible of his own errors. And (truly) that would not be unfitly applied to him, that was once said of the terrible Mountford Earl of Leicester, in the reign of Henry the Third; (though nothing be more horrible to me then the petulancy of that wit, which for an unhandsome jest, would accuse him of a purpose to be King (for doubtless in his solemn purposes he was of a firm and unshaken allegiance) that he had a spirit too great for a Subject. For besides that he looked from above, and with a displeasure that had a mixture of scorn more than anger upon such as courted not his protection, his talk was in an high and unusual dialect; he took much delight to discover an hatred (like a contempt) of the King of Spain, and would often mention his person as familiarly as Luther did our Henry the Eighth; and as Fox gins his Book against the Pope with the first lines of Tully's Oration against Catiline, Quousque tandem, etc. and so he would write in his ordinary Letters, and publish in his Apology, I will teach that proud King to know, etc. Which sounded possibly not so acceptable to the Queen herself, who though she were perfect enough in her dislike to that King, thought that the greatest Subject ought not to approach the infirnities, or the mention of any King without some reverence. And the Earl in his zeal to the Hollanders (when the great design was to mediate a Truce between Spain and them, and almost the whole Councel-board inclined that way) would not only in the violence of his opposition show a dislike to the insolency and tyranny of the Spaniards, but of the very Government of a Monarchy.  
Then his carriage towards the Queen herself was very strange, and his usual converse upon too bold terms, which proceeded not from any distemper but his passions, (though natural choler be but an unruly excuse for roughness with Princes:) but 'twas a way of traffic (I know not upon what unlucky success) he had from the beginning fancied, and lasted even to his end. Insomuch, as upon his first restraint, (which was not many months before his conclusion) he did somewhat neglect the Queen's pardon, because it came not accompanied with a new grant of his Lease of the farm of sweet Wines, which was then near expired; though she intimated to him, that she only deferred that Grace upon the Physicians maxims: Corpora impura, quo magis pascas, laeseris.  
Lastly, If ever that uncouth speech fell from him to the Queen, which is delivered to us by one that was much conversant then in the secrets of the Court, That she was as crooked in her disposition, as in her carcase (when haply there was a little unevenness in her shoulders) all my wonder at his destruction is taken from me: and I must needs confess, I am nothing satisfied with that lose report which hath crept into our discourse, that shortly after his miserable end, (which indeed deserved compassion from all hearts) I know not upon what unseasonable delivery of a Ring or jewel by some Lady of the Court, the Queen expressed much reluctancy for his death. I am sure no discovery, no expression, either to his Memory, Friends, or Dependants, can weigh down the indignity of the Sermon at Paul's Cross, and set out by Command, or that Discourse that was so carefully commended abroad of his Treasons; which were two of the most pestilent Libels against his Fame, that any Age hath seen published against any malefactor, and could not with that deliberation have been contrived, and justified by Authority, had not there been some sparks of indignation in the Queen that were unquenched even with his blood.  
'Tis time to call myself homewards to the view of those considerations, in which will clearly appear the in-quality of the Duke's condition, to what hath been said of the Earl: and it may be, I have been at my distance too bold an undertaker of these actions, which were performed so many years before my cradle.  
I shall not much insist on the Duke's Morning, being so different from that of the Earls, as would discountenance all purposes of bringing them into one circle; he had no satisfaction in his friendships, or pretence in his quality, but was his own Harbinger at Court. For though the herald may walk in as large a Field of his pedigree, as shall concern any Subject, yet that being no inlet to his advancements, or occasion of his favour, I shall leave to such as shall have the preferment to write his Life. 'Tis true, that soon after his approach was found to be acceptable, and that he was like enough to be entertained by Him that had most power to bid him welcome; he received pretty conveniences from the respects of some great men, which at most (being as much out of disaffection to others, as tenderness to him) yielded him rather assistance, then support; so that indeed he was (if ever any) Faber fortunae suae: and all such as will not be impudent strangers to the discerning spirit of that King who first cherished him, cannot but impute it to a certain innate wisdom and virtue that was in him, with which he surprised, and even fascinated all the faculties of his incomparable Master. He was no sooner admitted to stand there in his own right, but the eyes of all such as either looked out of judgement, or gazed out of curiosity, were quickly directed towards him, as a man in the delicacy and beauty of his colour, decency and grace of his motion, the most rarely accomplished they had ever beheld; whilst some that found inconveniences in his nearness, intended by some affront to discountenance his effeminacy, till they perceived he had masked under it so terrible a courage as would safely protect all his sweetnesses.  
And now he quickly shown the most glorious Star that ever shined in any Court; insomuch that all Nations prosecuted him with love and wonder, as fast as the King with Grace; and to his last he never lost any of his lustre.  
His swiftness and nimbleness in rising, may be with less injury ascribed to a Vivacity, than any Ambition in his nature; since it is certain the King's eagerness to advance him, so surprised his youth, that he seemed only to submit his shoulders, without resistance to such burdens as his Highness would be pleased to lay on him; and rather to be held up by the violent inclination of the King, then to climb up by any Art or industry of his own: yet once seated, he would not affront that judgement that raised him, by an unseasonable diffidence of himself, but endeavoured with an understanding boldness to manage those employments which his modesty would never suffer him to court.  
During the Reign of his first Master, I cannot but say, he enjoyed an indifferent calm in his Fortune and Favour; for though there were some boisterous interruptions by the clamour of the people, yet shortly again their affections were as violent (and almost as senseless) toward him, as ever their accusations were before or after; Insomuch as the Chief Rulers among them performed frequent visits to him, when he was somewhat diseased in his health, and out of a zealous care of him, would have begot in him some jealousy, that his Physicians and nearest Attendants about him, being (perhaps) of the same Religion with the King of Spain, had a purpose by poison to revenge some injuries (these people had conceived) in the right of that Nation. And here the Fortunes of our great Personages met, when they were both the Favourites of the Princes, and Darlings of the people. But their affections to the Duke, were but very short lived.  
And now 'tis seasonable to say somewhat of the disposition and spirit of this time, since the Disparity of those we treat of, will be in that discerned, and the Earl be found by so much to have the advantage, that there will be little need of conferring the particulars of their lives. 'Twas a busy querulous frowardtime, so much degenerated from the purity of the former, that the people under pretences of Reformation, with some petulant discourses of Liberty (which their great Impostors scattered among them, like false glasses to multiply their fears) began Abditos Principis sensus, & quid occultius parat exquirere: extended their inquiries even to the Chamber and private actions of the King himself, forgetting that truth of the Poet,— Nusquam Libertas gratior extat,— quam sub Rege pio: 'Twas strange to see how men afflicted themselves to find out calamities and mischiefs, whilst they borrowed the name of some great persons to scandalise the State they lived in: A general disorder throughout the whole body of the Commonwealth; nay the vital part perishing, the Laws violated by the Judges, Religion profaned by the Prelates, Heresies crept into the Church and countenanced: and yet all this shall be quickly rectified without so much as being beholding to the King, or consulting with the Clergy.  
Surely had Petronius now lived, he would have found good cause to say, Nostra regio tam praesentibus plena est numinibus, ut facilius possis deum quam hominem invenire. For my part, whether the frenzy was nourished in the warm breast of young men (who are commonly too much in love with their own time, to think it capable of reformation;) or whether it was fomented by riper heads, that had miscarried in their propositions of advancement, and are violent in the successes of Queen Elizabeth; or whether it was only the revolution of time that had made them unconcerned in the loyal fears that governed sixty years since, I shall not presume to guests: but shall rather wish for the spirit and condition of that time, as he did for wars and commotions, Quoniam acerbissima Dei flagella sunt, quibus hominum pertinaciam punit, ea perpetua oblivione sepelienda, potius quàm memoriae mandanda esse.  
King James being no sooner dead, but such as had from his beginning impertinently endeavoured to supplant him, and found that he was so deeply rooted in his sovereign's acceptance, that there should be no shaking him with clamorous objections, found some means to commend over his condition and transcendent power, as they termed it, as a matter of public consequence to the people: and from this instant to his fatal end he stood as it were expos●…d, notwithstanding all the shelter of the sovereign's regard, to all the calumnies and obloquys the impudent malice of the Rabble could fling on him: and in all their pretences of Reformation, as if their end were only his shame, not amendment, they rather cudge●… then repr●…hend him. Of this wild rage (not within the main purpose of an Apology) I shall give one or two instances, insisting on them only as they were mentioned in the indigested noise of the people, not as they were marshaled with other employments in any public Declaration or Remonstrance.  
There were two errors chief laid to his charge, and so eagerly urged, that in them he was almost concluded an Enemy to the King and country; which certainly in the next Age will be conceived marvellous strange Objections: the one being a strong Argument of his Worth, the other a piece of its Reward: the first was the plurality of Offices, though they were immediately conferred on him by the King, or else such as he was promoted to by his Majesties own allowance, to acquire to the which, there was no condition but his Majesty was a witness, if not a surety for the performance; and yet for the execution of them, never man studied more to apt himself, nor descended to meaner Arts to give general content. And here possibly it concerned his Mirth to see his ambition prosecuted of some, who desired to ease him of this gild by undertaking his Trust.  
The other was the preferment of his Kindred, upon whom his Majesty (delighting to give all gracious expression of his affection to the Duke) would (to enliven any branch that grew from the same Stock) confer both Honour and Living. And this surely had so little signification of offence in the Duke's conscience, that he thought he should have sinned against the Law of Nature, and a generous disposition, that it would have been an eternal brand to his name and memory, if being so seized of this great King's favour, he had no regard but to his own advancement.  
And 'tis not improbable, that his noble care of his Family, confirmed him in the estimation of his Master, who knew that all Fountains ought to bestow themselves upon their Neighbour-brooks, and could have hoped for little effects from his service, whose care was only directed for him●…f.  
Now whether the importunate clamour upon these two faults (whereof he found no regret, but comfort in himself) made him so to esteem of the popular discretion, and honesty; or whether he esteemed it the same ignominy to have his allegiance exalted with blasphemy, as (for attending the Prince out of Spain) he was called our Redeemer; or to have his misfortunes mistaken into disloyalty, when his Erterprises succeeded not according to the impossible expectation of the people: certain it is, that all his later time he wholly neglected all compliance with them. 'Tis not unlikely he might wonder, that in all the scrutinous enquiry for Reformation, there was never the least blemish of dislike towards any great man, but such as were in the immediate regard and estimation of the King: As if all misdemeanours had been committed within the Verge of his Majesties own Chamber.  
I shall not confer any of these particulars with the Earl. When the noise of the people had disquieted him into action from Court (which was his Orb) though he could not put off the place, or rather the Title of Command, he committed himself a most willing Pupil to the directions of such as were generally thought fit to manage affairs of that nature: and here it cannot be denied, but as he was a vigilant and observant Student in the contemplative part, so he improved the courage of the whole Army by his example.  
And surely, there is no cause to doubt, he would in short time have made so glorious a progress in his profession, (however he seemed shaped for easier skirmishes) as the world should have seen that promptness and alacrity in his nature, that could happily have traveled in any path he could direct it, had he not been cut off by that ex●…crable Treason, as makes all good men tremble, and Posterity shall start at it: and had he not been marvellously secured in the tranquillity of his own soul from any of that guilt the Rabble had conferred on him, it had been no hard matter to have fortified himself against the knife of a Villain, though it were sharpened in the lewdest forge of revenge the great Patron of murder hath countenanced since the spilling of the first blood. But he that was unsafe only in the greatness of his own spirit, could not be persuaded to wear any privy-coat, but (which he never put off) of a good conscience. And the same Providence that conveyed him into grace, with so different marks from other men, would not suffer him to fall, but by such a fate as may determine all the Monarchies of the world; and which had been seldom acted, but upon the most Eminent and Honourable Persons of their times.  
And here again, he may be said to meet with the Earl, that they both died by the people, though by very different affections, which continued so preposterous, as justice upon the One (for justice is the execution of the Law) was interpreted a Conspiracy; And Treason upon the Other, conceived Religion; And yet one had the Royal Sacrifice of his sovereign's sorrow, which the other wanted.  
In contriving and contracting his Friendships, he was provident and circumspect enough (as may appear by those Marriages in which he linked his House;) and in the observation of them he was so severe and real, as he wanted some of that, which is usually the poison of Noble minds, Suspicion; looking no further into the affections of those he chose, than the Testimony of their own hearts, though this Confidence sometimes was like to prove dangerous to him. And here the Earl had the day too: For his friends were Skreens between him and envy, and his own infirmities taken from him, and imposed on them; when the Duke was so far from that ease, or being discharged of the burden that belonged to them, that he was traduced with all the mistakes of all his friends, kindred, and dependants; as if he were the mischievous Agent, they only improvident and surprised Instruments.  
'Tis true, they were neither of them much skilled in that Paradox of charity, loving their enemies: and yet the Duke's easiness to reconcilement, and too soon forgetting the circumstances of Grudges, betrayed him often to the injuries of such as had not the same spirit.  
Concerning the parts and endowments of his Mind, if the consideration of Learning extend itself not further than drudgery in Books, the Duke's employments forbids to suspect him for any great Scholar: but if a nimble and fluent expression, and delivery of his Mind (and his discourse was of all Subjects) in a natural and proper dialect be considered, he was well lettered: but if he had that Eloquence of Nature or Art, I am sure he wanted that other accident, (which the best judge attributed to the Earl as an Eloquence that passed the other two) the pity and benevolence of his hearers; insomuch that his words and speeches were never entertained with that candour or common charity of Interpretation, as civilly belongs to all Delinquents: witness that speech in the fullness of his joy, he let fall to his Majesty in the behalf of his people, which was immediately perverted and carped at, as an aggravation of his other imaginary and fantastic offences.  
He was besides not only of an eminent affection to learning in conferring dignities and rewards upon the most learned men; either of which is seldom without judgement; and he was the governor in a Province of Learning, which was an Argument he confuted the people by, when he suffered himself to be chosen chancellor of the University of Cambridge, even at the time when they had concluded his destruction, as a man odious to all Subjects.  
In his Liberalities and rewards of those he fancied, he was so cheerfully magnificent, and so much at the mercy of his Dependants, that if they proved improvident or immodest in their Suits, the inconveniency and mischief was surely his; insomuch as he seemed wholly possessed from himself, and to be only great for their use; and he had then so happy a bravery in deriving of his Favours, and conferred them with so many noble circumstances, as the manner was as obliging as the matter, and men's understandings ofttimes as much puzzled as their gratitude.  
If the Earl sided him here, his bounty fell upon more unthrifty men; for there are many Families own their large possessions only to the openness of the Duke's hand, though much be lost too in the ingratitudes of the Receivers.  
But that which shined with most lustre in him, and which indeed flowed in his nature much above its proportion in other men, was an admirable affability and gentleness to all men. And this was the pomp and glory of all his Titles; Insomuch as though his Memory were a place so taken up with high thoughts, and unlikely to have any room for matters of so small importance; he was ever known to entertain his younger acquaintance with that familiarity, as if they had been stairs by which he ascended to his greatness.  
He had besides such a tenderness and compassion in his nature, that such as think the Laws dead if they are not severely executed, censured him for being too merciful; but his charity was grounded upon a wiser maxim of St●…te: Non minus turpe Principi multa Supplicia; quàm Medico multa Funera. And he believed doubtless, that Hanging was the worst use man could be put to.  
And now, me thinks, to believe a man dressed in all these real ornaments of Honour, could be an Enemy to the public, to his country, is as ingenuous as to believe a man of a solemn friendlyness to ten thousand men, and of a resolved hatred to mankind.  
Of all imputations, that was the most unskilful, which accused him of a purpose and design to enrich himself. Certainly that was never in his vows; and possibly the Auditors of his Revenues do not find his Estate so much increased from the time of his first Master, though he enjoyed a glorious Harvest of almost four years, which if it had been brought in to his own use, could not but have made an envious addition. Since then, till their Evenings, these two great Persons can hardly meet: Let not the violence of their deaths reconcile them, since the same consideration might as well unite the great King of France, and the Marshal Byron, and many others of more different conditions.  
He that shall continue this Argument further, may haply begin his Parallel after their deaths; and not unfitly: He may say, that they were both as mighty in Obligations as ever any Subjects, and both their Memories and Families as unrecompensed by such as they had raised. He may tell you of the Clients that burned the Pictures of the one, and defaced the Arms of the other, lest they might be too long suspected for their Dependants, and fi●…d dis-advantage by being honest to their Memories. He may tell you of some that grew strangers to their houses, lest they might find the Tract of their own footsteps, that might upbraid them with their former attendance. He may say, that both their Memories shall have a reverend savour with all Posterity; and all Nations. He may tell you many more particulars, which I dare not do.   


CRUX: FIDEI COTI-CULA    

A VIEW OF THE LIFE AND DEATH OF George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham.   

THE LIFE and DEATH OF GEORGE VILLIERS, Late Duke of Buckingham.  
I Determine to write the Life and the End, the Nature and the Fortunes of GEORGE VILLIERS, late Duke of Buckingham: (esteeming him worthy to be registered among the great examples of Time and Fortune:) which yet I have not undertaken out of any wanton pleasure in mine own Pen; nor truly, without often pondering with myself beforehand what Censures I might incur. For I would not be ignorant by long observation, both abroad and at home; That every where all greatness of power and Favour is circumvested with much prejudice. And that it is not easy for Writers to research with due distinction (as they ought) in the actions of eminent Personages, both how much may have been blemished by the envy of others, and what was corrupted by their own felicity; unless, after the period of their Splendour, which must needs dazzle their beholders, and perhaps oftentimes themselves, we could as in some Scenes of the fabulous Age, excite them again, and confer a while with their naked Ghosts. However, for my part, I have no servile or ignoble end in my present labour, which may on either side restrain or embase the freedom of my poor judgement. I will therefore steer as evenly as I can, and deduce him from his Cradle through the deep and lubric waves of State and Court, till he was swallowed in the Gulf of fatality.  
I find him born in the year of our Saviour 1592. on the 20th. of August, at Brookeby in Leicestershire, where his Ancestors had chief continued about the space of 400 years, rather without obscurity, then with any great lustre, after they had long before been seated in Kinalton in the Country of Nottingham. He was the third Son of George Villiers Knight, and Mary late Countess of Buckingham, and Daughter to Anthony Beaumond of Coleorton, Esquire, names on either side well known of Ancient extraction. And yet I remember there was one, who in a wild Pamphlet which he published, besides other pitiful Malignities, would scant allow him to be a Gentleman. He was nurtured where he had been born, in his first Rudiments, till the years of ten; and from thence sent to Billisden-School in the same County, where he was taught the principles of music, and other slight Literature, till the thirteenth of his age; at which time his Father died. Then his beautiful and provident Mother, (for those Attributes will not be denied her) took him home to her house at Goodby, where she had him in especial care; so as he was first, (as we may say) a domestic Favourite: But finding him (as it should seem) by nature little studious and contemplative, she chose rather to endue him with conversative Qualities and Ornaments of youth, as Dancing, Fencing, and the like; Not without aim then, perchance, (though far off) at a courtier's life: To which lessons, he had such a dexterous proclivity, as his Teachers were fain to restrain his forwardness; to the end that his Brothers, who were under the same training, might hold pace with him. About the age of eighteen, he traveled into France, where he improved himself well in the Language, for one that had so little Grammatical foundation; but more in the exercises of that Nobility, for the space of three years, and yet came home in his natural plight, without affected forms (the ordinary disease of Travellers.) After his return, he passed again one whole year (as before) at Goodby, under the Wing and Counsels of his Mother: And then was forward to become a suitor at London to Sir Roger Ashton's Daughter, a Gentleman of the bedchamber to King James, and Master of the Robes. About which times, he falls into intrinsecal society with Sir John Greham, than one of the Gentlemen of his majesty's Privy-Chamber: who, I know not upon what Luminaries he spied in his face, dissuaded him from Marriage, and gave him rather encouragement to woo Fortune in Court. Which advice sank well into his fancy; for within some while, the King had taken by certain Glances, (whereof the first was at Apthorpe, in a Progress) such liking of his person, that he resolved to make him a masterpiece, and to mould him, as it were, Platonically to his own Idea. Neither was his Majesty content only to be the Architect of his fortune, without putting his Gracious hand likewise to some part of the work itself. Insomuch as it pleased him to descend, and to avale his goodness, even to the giving of his foresaid friend Sir john Greham secret directions, how, and by what degrees he should bring him into favour. But this was quickly discovered by him, who was then as yet in some possession of the King's heart. For there is nothing more vigilant, nothing more jealous than a Favourite, especially towards the wayning time and suspect of satiety. So as many Arts were used to discuss the beginnings of new affection, (which lie out of my Road, being a part of another man's Story.) All which notwithstanding, (for I omit things intervenient) there is conveyed to Mr. Villiers an intimation of the King's pleasure to wait, and to be sworn his servant; And shortly after, his cupbearer at large; And the Summer following he was admitted in Ordinary. After which time Favours came thick upon him, (liker main Showers, then sprinkling Drops or Dews) for the next St. Georges-day he was Knighted, and made Gentleman of the King's Bed Chamber; and the very same day had an annual Pension given him, for his better support, of one thousand pounds out of the Court of Wards. At New-years-tide following, the King chose him Master of the Horse. After this he was installed of the most Noble Order. And in the next August he created him Baron of Whaddon, and Viscount Villiers. In January of the same year, he was advanced Earl of Buckingham, and sworn here of his majesty's Privy-Counsel; as if a Favourite were not so before. The March ensuing, he attended the King into Scotland, and was likewise sworn a Counsellor in that kingdom; where (as I have been instructed by unpassionate men) he did carry himself with singular sweetness and temper; which I held very credible, for it behoved him, being new in favour, and succeeding one of their own, to study a moderate style among those generous Spirits. About New-years-tide after his return from thence (for those beginnings of years were very propitious unto him, as if Kings did choose remarkable days to inaugurate their Favours, that they may appear acts as well of the Times, as of the Will) he was Created marquis of Buckingham, and made Lord Admiral of England, Chief Justice in Eyre of all the Parks and forests on the southside of Trent, Master of the Kings-Bench Office, (none of the unprofitable pieces) Head-Steward of Westminster, and Constable of Windsor-Castle.  
Here I must breathe a while to satisfy some that perhaps might otherwise wonder at such an Accumulation of Benefits, like a kind of Embroidering or listing of one Favour upon another. Certainly, the hearts of great Princes, if they be considered as it were in abstract, without the necessity of States, and Circumstances of time, being, besides their natural extent, moreover, once opened and dilated with affection, can take no full and proportionate pleasure in the exercise of any narrow Bounty. And albeit at first they give only upon choice and love of the person, yet within a while themselves likewise begin to love their givings, and to foment their deeds, no less than Parents do their Children. But let us go on.  
For these Offices and Dignities already rehearsed, and these of the like nature which I shall after set down in their place, were (as I am ready to say) but the face or fringes of his Greatness, in comparison of that trust which his most Gracious Master did cast upon him in the one and twentieth year of his Reign, when he made him the chief Concomitant of his Heir apparent, and only Son, our dear sovereign, now being, in a journey of much Adventure, and which (to show the strength of his privacy) had been before not communicated with any other of his majesty's most reserved Counsellors at home, being carried with great closeness, liker a business of Love then State; as it was in the first intendment. Now, because the whole kingdom stood in a zealous trepidation of the absence of such a Prince; I have been the more desirous to research with some diligence, the several passages of the said Journey, and the particular Accidents of any moment in their way. They began their motion in the year 1623., on Tuesday the 18th. of February, from the marquis his house of late purchase, at Newhall in Essex, setting out with disguised Beards, and with borrowed Names of Thomas and john Smith. And then attended with none, but Sir Richard Greham, Master of the Horse to the marquis, and of inward trust about him. When they passed the River against Gravesend, for lack of silver, they were fain to give the ferryman a piece of two and twenty shillings, which struck the poor fellow into such a melting tenderness, that so good Gentlemen should be going (for so he suspected) about some quarrel beyond Sea, as he could not forbear to acquaint the Officers of the Town with what had befallen him, who sent presently Post for their stay at Rochester, through which they were passed before any intelligence could arrive. On the brow of the Hill beyond that City, they were somewhat perplexed by espying the French ambassador, with the King's Coach and other attending him, which made them balk the beaten Road, and teach Posthackneys to leap Hedges. At Canterbury, whither some voice (as it should seem) was run on before, the Mayor of the Town came himself to seize on them, as they were taking fresh Horses, in a blunt manner, alleging first a Warrant to stop them from the council, next from Sir Lewis Lewkver Master of the Ceremonies, and lastly from Sir Henry Manwaring, than Lieutenant of Dover-Castle. At all which confused fiction, the marquis had no leisure to laugh, but thought best to dismask his Beard, and so told him, that he was going covertly with such slight company, to take a secret view (being: Admiral) of the forwardness of his majesty's Fleet, which was then in preparation on the Narrow Seas: This, with much ado, did somewhat handsomely heal the disguisement. On the way afterwards, the Baggage Post-Boy, who had been at Court, got (I know not how) a glimmering who they were; but his mouth was easily shut. To Dover, through bad Horses, and those pretty impediments, they came not before six at night; where they found Sir Francis Cottington, than Secretary to the Prince, now Baron of Hanworth, and Mr. Endymion Porter, who had been sent before to provide a Vessel for their Transportation. The foresaid Knight was conjoined, for the nearness of his place, on the Prince's affairs; and for his long Residence in the Court of Spain, where he had gotten singular credit even with that cautious Nation, by the temper of his Carriage. Mr. Porter was taken in, not only as a bedchamber servant of Confidence to his Highness, but likewise as a necessary and useful Instrument, for his natural skill in the Spanish Tongue. And these five were at the first the whole Parada of this Journey. The next morning, for the night was tempestuous, on the 19th. of the foresaid month, taking ship at Dover about six of the Clock, they landed the same day at Bull●…yn in France, near two hours after Noon; reaching Monstruell that night (like men of dispatch;) and Paris the second day after, being Friday the one and twentieth. But some three Posts before, they had met with two Germane Gentlemen that came newly from England, where they had seen at New-market the Prince and the marquis taking Coach together with the King, and retaining such a strong impression of them both, that they now bewrayed some knowledge of their persons; but were outfaced by Sir Richard Greham, who would needs persuade them they were mistaken. Which in truth is no very hard matter, for the very strangeness of the thing itself; and almost the impossibility to conceive so great a Prince and Favourite so suddenly Metamorphosed into Travellers, with no greater train, was enough to make any man living unbelieve his five senses. And this, I suppose, next the assurance of their own well resolved Carriage against a new accident, to have been their best Anchor in all such encounters. At Paris the Prince spent one whole day to give his mind some contentment in viewing of a famous City and Court, which was a Neighbour to his future Estates. But for the better vailing of their Visages, his Highness and the marquis bought each of them a periwig, somewhat to overshadow their fore heads. Of the King they got a sight after dinner in a Gallery, where he was solacing himself with familiar pleasures. And of the Queen-Mother as she was at her own Table; in neither place descried, no not by Monsieur Cadinet, who saw them in both, and had been lately ambassador in England. Towards Evening, by a mere chance, in appearance, though underlined with a Providence, they had a full sight of the Queen Infanta, and of the Princess Henrietta Maria, with other great Ladies, at the practice of a masking Dance, which was then in preparation; having overheard two Gentlemen who were tending towards that sight, after whom they pressed, and were let in by the Duke De Mont Bason, the Queen's Lord Chamberlain, out of humanity to strangers, when divers of the French went by Note here, even with the point of a Diamond, by what obliqne steps, and inimaginable preparatives, the high Disposer of Prince's Affections doth sometimes contrive the secrets of his will. For by this casual curiosity, it fell out, that when afterwards the Marriage came in motion between our sovereign Lord, and the aforesaid most Amiable Princess; it must needs be (howsoever unknown) no small spur to the Treaty, that she hath not before been altogether a stranger to his Eye.  
From the next day, when they departed at three of the Clock in the morning from Paris, the 23. of February, were spent six days to Bayon, the last Town of France, having before at Bourdeaux, bought them five riding-Coats, all of one colour and fashion, in a kind of Noble simplicity: Where Sir Francis Cottington was employed in a fair manner to keep them from being entertained by the Duke De Espernon, telling him they were Gentlemen of mean degree, and form yet to little Courtship; who perchance might otherwise (being himself no superficial man in the practices of the World) have pierced somewhat deeper than their outside.  
They were now entered into the deep time of Lent, and could get no flesh in their inns. Whereupon fell out a pleasant passage (if I may insert it by the way among more serious:) There was near Bayon, an Herd of Goats with their young ones, upon which sight, the said Sir Richard Greham tells the marquis, he would snap one of the Kids, and make some shift to carry him close to their lodging. Which the Prince overhearing, Why Richard, says he, do you ●…nk you may practise here your old tricks again ●…on the borders? Upon which words, they ●…st gave the Goat Herd good contentment, and then while the marquis and his servant (being both on foot) were chase the Kid about the stack, the Prince from Horse back killed him in the Head with a Scottish Pistol. Set this Fear for a Journal Parenthesis, which yet may show how his Highness even in such slight and sportful damage had a Noble sense of just dealing.  
At Bayon, the Count De Gramont, governor of that jealous Key, took an exquisite notice of their persons and behaviour, and opened himself to some of his train, That he thought them to be Gentlemen of much more worth than their habits bewrayed; yet he let them courteously pass. And four days after they arrived at Madrid, being Wednesday the fifth of March. Thus have I briefly run over transcursions, as if my Pen had been posting with them. Which done, I shall not need to relate the affluence of young Nobles and others from hence into Spain, after the voice of our Prince his being there had been quickly noised, and at length believed; neither will I stay to consider the Arts of Rome, where now all Engines were whetted (though by the Divine blessing very vainly) when they had gotten a Prince of Great Britain upon Catholic ground, as they use to call it.  
This, and the whole matter of Negotiation there, the open entertainments, the secret working, the Apprehensions on both sides, the appearance on neither; And in sum, all the circumstances and respect of Religion and State intermixed together in that commixture, will better become a Royal History, or a Councel-Table, than a single Life. Yet I cannot omit some things which intervened at the meeting of two Pleyades, me thinks not unlike that which Astrologers call a Conjunction of Planets, of no very benign Aspect the one to the other; I mean, the marquis of Buckingham, and the Conde d'Olivares. They had some sharper, and some milder differences, which might easily happen in such an intervene of Grandees both vehement on the parts which they swayed. But the most remarkable was upon a supposition of the Condes, (as fancies are cheap) that the marquis had intimated unto her some hopes of the Prince his Conversion; which coming into debate, the marquis so roundly disavowed this guilded dream, as Olivares alleged he had given him La-Mentida, and thereupon forms: a compliment to the Prince himself; which Buckingham denying, and yet Olivares persisting in the said compliment, the marquis, though now in strange hands, yet seeing both his Honour and the Truth at stake, was not tender likewise to engage his life, but replied with some heat, that the Condes asseveration would force him to do that which he had not done before; for now he held himself tied in terms of a Gentleman, to maintain the contrary to his affirmative in any sort whatsoever. This was the highest and the harshest point that occurred between them; which that it went so far, was not the Duke's fault; nor his fault neither, (as it should seem) that it went no further.  
There was another memorable passage one day of gentler quality, and yet eager enough. The Conde d' Olivares tells the marquis of a certain flying noise, that the Prince did plot to be secretly gone: To which the marquis gave a well tempered answer, that though Love had made his Highness steal out of his own country, yet Fear would never make him run out of Spain in other manner than should become a Prince of his Royal and generous virtues.  
In Spain they stayed near eight entire months, during all which times, who but Buckingham lay at home under millions of maledictions? Which yet, at the Prince his safe arrival in the West, did die, and vanish here and there into praises and eulogies, according to the contrary motions of popular waves. And now to sum up the fruit of the Journey, discourses ran thus among the clearest Observers. It was said, that the Prince himself, without any imaginable stain of his Religion, had by the sight of foreign Courts, and observations of the different Natures of people, and Rules of Government, much excited and awaked his spirits, and corroborated his judgement. And as for the marquis, there was note taken of two great additions which he had gained: First, he was returned with increase of Title, having there been made Duke, by Patent sent him, which was the highest degree whereof an English Subject could be capable. But the other was far greater, though closer; for by so long and so private; and so various consociation with a Prince of such excellent nature, he had now gotten as it were two lives in his own Fortune and Greatness; whereas otherwise the estate of a Favourite is at the best but a Tenant at will, and rarely transmitted. But concerning the Spanish Commission, which in public conceit was the main scope of the Journey, that was left in great suspense, and after some time utterly laid aside; which threw the Duke amongst free Wits (whereof we have a rank Soil) under divers Censures. The most part were apt to believe, that he had brought down some deep distaste from Spain, which exasperated his counsels; Neither was there wanting some other, that thought him not altogether void of a little Ambition, to show his power either to knit or dissolve. Howsoever, the whole Scene of affairs was changed from Spain to France; there now lay the prospective. Which alteration being generally liked, and all alterations of State being ever attributed to the powerfullest under Princes (as the manner is where the eminency of one obscureth the rest;) the Duke became suddenly and strangely Gracious among the multitude, and was even in Parliament highly exalted; so as he did seem for a time to have overcome that natural Incompatibility, which in the experience of all Ages hath been noted between the Vulgar and the sovereign Favour. But this was no more than a mere bubble or blast, and like an Ephemeral fit of applause, as estsoon will appear in the sequel and train of his life. I had almost forgotten, that after his return from Spain, he was made Lord Warden of the Cinque-Ports, (which is as it were a second Admiralty) and Steward likewise of the manor of Hampton-Court; Dignities and Offices still growing of trust or profit: And the King now giving not only out of a beneficent disposition, but a very habitual and confirmed custom.  
One year, six months, two days after the joyful reception of the Prince his Son from Spain, King James of immortal memory (among all the lovers and admirers of Divine and Humane Sapience) accomplished at Theobalds' his own days on Earth. Under whom the Duke had run a long Course of calm and smooth prosperity: I mean long, for the ordinary life of favour; and the more notable, because it had been without any visible Eclipse or Wave in himself, amidst divers variations in others.  
The most important and pressing care of a new and Vigorous King, was his Marriage, for mediate establishment of the Royal Line. Wherein the Duke having had an especial hand, he was sent to conduce hither the most Lovely and virtuous Princess Henrietta Maria, youngest Daughter to the Great Henry of Bourbon, of whom his Majesty (as hath been said) had an ambulatory view in his Travels, (like a stolen taste of something that provoketh appetite.) He was accompanied with none of our Peers but the Earl of Mountgomery, now Lord Chamberlain, a Noble Gentleman, of trusty, free, and open nature; and truly no unsuitable Associate, for that he himself likewise, at the beginning of King James, had run his Circle in the wheeling vicissitude of Favour.  
And here I must crave leave in such of high quality, or other of particular note, as shall fall under my pen, (whereof this is the first) not to let them pass without their due Character, being part of my professed ingenuity.  
Now this embassy, though it had a private show, being charged with more formality than matter, (for all the essential Conditions were before concluded) could howsoever want no Ornaments, or bravery to adorn it. Among which, I am near thinking it worthy of a little remembrance, that the Duke, one solemn day, Gorgeously clad in a suit all overspread with Diamonds, and having lost one of them of good value, perchance as he might be dancing, after his manner, with lofty motion, it was strangely recovered again the next morning in a Court full of Pages: Such a diligent attendant was Fortune every where, both abroad and at home.  
After this fair discharge, all Civil Honours having showered on him before, there now fell out great occasions to draw forth his spirits into action, a breach first with Spain, and not longafter with France itself, notwithstanding so straight an affinity, so lately treated with the one, and actually accomplished with the other. As if indeed (according to that pleasant maxim of State) Kingdoms were never married. This must of necessity involve the Duke in business enough to have over-set a lesser Vessel, being the next Commander under the Crown, of Ports and Ships.  
But he was noted willingly to embrace those Overtures of public employment. For at the Parliament at Oxford, his Youth and want of Experience in Maritime service, had somewhat been shrewdly touched, even before the sluices and floodgates of popular liberty were yet set open. So as to wipe out that objection, he did now mainly attend his charge, by his majesty's untroubled and serene Commands, even in a tempestuous time. Now the men fell a rubbing of Armour, which a great while had lain oiled: The Magazines of Munition are viewed: The Officers of Remains called to account: frequent counsels of War, as many private conferences with expert seamen, a Fleet in preparation for some attempt upon Spain.  
The Duke himself personally employed to the state's General; and with him joined in full Commission the Earl of Holland, a Peer both of singular grace and solidity, and of all sweet and serviceable virtue for public use.  
These two Nobles, after a dangerous passage from Harwich, wherein three of their Ships were foundered, arrived the fifth day at the Hague in Holland. Here they were to enter a treaty, both with the States themselves, and with the Ministers of divers allied and confederate Princes, about a common diversion, for the recovery of the Palatinate where the King's only sister's Dowry had been ravished by the Germane Eagle, mixed with Spanish Feathers: A Princess resplendent in darkness, and whose virtues were born within the chance, but without the power of Fortune.  
Here it were injurious to overslip a Noble act in the Duke during this employment, which I must, for my part, celebrate above all his expenses: There was a Collection of certain rare Manuscripts, tightly written in Arabic, and sought in the most remote parts by the diligence of Erpenius, the most excellent Linguist: These had been left to the Widow of the said Erpenius, and were upon sale to the Jesuits at Antwerp, liquorish Chapmen of such Ware. Whereof the Duke, getting knowledge by his worthy and learned Secretary Doctor Mason, interverted the bargain, and gave the poor Widow for them five hundred pounds, a sum above their weight in silver, and a mixed act both of bounty and charity, the more laudable, being out of his natural Element. These were they, which after his death were as Nobly presented, as they had been bought, to the University of Cambridge, by the Duchess Dowager, as soon as she understood, by the aforesaid Doctor Mason, her Husband's intention, who had a purpose likewise (as I am well instructed) to raise in the said University (whereof he was Chancellor) a fair Case for such Monuments, and to furnish it with other choice Collections from all parts, of his own charge: perchance in some emulation of that famous Treasury of knowledge at Oxford, without parallel in the Christian World. But let me resume the file of my Relation, which this Object of Books (best agreeable to my course of life) hath a little interrupted.  
The aforesaid Negotiation, though prosecuted with heat and probable appearance of great effects, took up a Month before the Duke's return from his excentricity, (for so I account favourites abroad) and then at home he met no good news of the Cadiz attempt. In the preparation thereof, though he had spent much solicitude ex officio, yet it principally failed (as was thought) by late setting out, and by some contrariety of wether at Sea; whereby the particular design took vent before hand, a point hardly avoidable in actions of noise, especially where the great Indian Key to all Cabinets is working.  
Not long after this, the King pondering in his Wisdom the weight of his foreign Affairs, found it fit to call a Parliament at Westminster: this was that Assembly, where there appeared a sudden and marvellous conversion in the Duke's Case, from the most exalted, (as he had been both in another Parliament, and in common Voice before) to the most depressed now; as if his condition had been capable of no Mediocrities. And it could not but trouble him the more, by happening when he was so freshly returned out of the Low-Country Provinces, out of a meritorious employment, in his inward conceit and hope. Which being the single example that our Annals have yielded, from the time of William de la Pool, Duke of Suffolk, under Henry the Sixth, of such a concurrence of two extremes, withinso short time, by most of the same Commenders and Disprovers, (like the natural breath of man, that can both heat and cool) would require no sleight memorial of the particular Motives of so great a change, but that the whole Case was dispersed by the Knights of Shires, and Burgesses of Towns, through all the Veins of the Land, and may be taken by any, at pleasure, out of the Parliament Registers. Besides that, I observe it not usual among the best patterns, to stuff the report of particular lives with matter of public record, but rather to dive (as I shall endeavour, before I wipe my Pen) into secret and proper afflictions; howsoever, somewhat I must note in this strange Phainomenon. It began from a traveled Doctor of physic, of bold spirit, and of able Elocution; who being returned one of the Burgesses (which was not ordinary in any of his Coat) fell by a Metaphorical Allusion) translated from his own Faculty, to propound the Duke's as a main cause of divers infirmities in the State, or near that purpose; being sure enough of Seconds, after the first onset, in the Lower House. As for any close intelligence that they had before hand with some in the Higher, (though that likewise was said) I want ground to affirm, or believe it more than a general conceit; which perhaps might run of the working of envy amongst those that were nearest the object, which we see so familiar, both in natural and moral causes. The Duke's Answers to his Appeachments, in number thirteen, I find very diligently and civilly couched: and though his heart was big, yet they all savour of an humble spirit, one way, equitable consideration, which could not but possess every vulgar conceit, and somewhat allay the whole matter, that in the bolting and sifting of near fourteen years of such power and favour, all that came out, could not be expected to be pure and white, and fine Meal, but must needs have withal among it a certain mixture of Padar and Bran, in this lower age of humane fragility. Howsoever this Tempest did only shake, and not rend his Sails. For his Majesty considering that almost all his Appeachments were without the compass of his own Reign; and moreover, That nothing alleged against him, had, or could be proved by Oath, according to the Constitution of the House of Commons; which the Duke himself did not forget in the Preface of his Answers. And lastly, having had such experience of his fidelity, and observance abroad, where he was chief in trust, and in the participations of all hazards, found himself engaged in honour, and in the sense of his own natural goodness, to support him at home from any further inquietude, and too dear buy his highest testimonies of divers important imputations, whereof the truth is best known to his Majesty while he was Prince.  
The Summer following this Parliament (after an embark of our Trading Ships in the River of Bourdeaux, and other points of Sovereign affront) there did succeed the action of rheezes, wherein the Duke was personally employed on either Element, both as Admiral and General, with hope in that service to recover the public good will, which he saw by his own example might quickly be won and lost. This action, as I hear, hath been delivered by a Noble Gentleman of much learning, and active spirits, himself the fit to do it right, which in truth it greatly wanted, having found more honourable censure, even from some of the French Writers, than it had generally amongst ourselves at home.  
Now, because the said work is not yet flowing into the light, I will but sweep the way with a few notes, and these only touching the Duke's own deportment in that Island, the proper subject of my quill; for in the general survey of this action, there was matter of glory and grief so equally distributed on both sides, as if Fortune had meant we should quickly be Friends again. Wherein let their names that were bravely lost, be rather memorised in the full table of time; for my part, I love no ambitious pains in an eloquent description of miseries. The Duke's carriage was surely Noble throughout: to the Gentlemen of fair respect, bountiful to the soldier, according to any special value which he spied in any, tender and careful of those that were hurt, of unquestionable Courage in himself, and rather fearful of Fame, than Danger: In his countenance, which is the part that all eyes interpret, no open alteration, even after the succours which he expected did fail him; but the less he shown without, the more it wrought intrinsically, according to the nature of suppressed passions. For certain it is, that to his often mentioned Secretary, Doctor Mason, whom he laid in Pallet near him, for natural Ventilation of his thoughts, he would, in the absence of all other ears and eyes, break out into bitter and passionate Eruptions, protesting, That never his Dispatches to divers Princes, nor the great business of a Fleet, of an Army, of a Siege, of a Treaty, of War, of Peace, both on foot together, and all of them in his head at a time, did not so much break his repose, as a conceit, That some at home, under his Majesty, of whom he had well deserved, were now content to forget him; but whom he meant, I know not, and am loath to rove at conjectures.  
Of their two Forts, he could not take the one, nor would he take the other; but in the general Town he maintained a seizure and possession of the whole three full months, and eighteen days; and at the first descent on shore, he was not immured within a wooden Vessel, but he did countenance the landing in his long Boat. Where succeeded such a defeat of near two hundred Horse (and these not (by his guess) mounted in haste, but the most part Gentlemen of Family, and great resolution) seconded with two thousand Foot, as all circumstances well balanced on either side, may surely endure a comparison with any of the bravest Impressions in ancient time. In the issue of the whole business, he seems charged in opinion with a kind of improvident conscience, having brought of that with him to Camp, perchance, too much from a Court, where Fortune had never deceived him: Besides, we must consider him yet but rude in the profession of Arms, though greedy of Honour, and zealous in the Cause.  
At his return to Plymouth, a strange accident befell him, perchance not so worthy of memory for itself, as for that it seemeth to have been a kind of prelude to his final period.  
The now Lord Goring, a Gentleman of true honour, and of vigilant affections for his Friend, sends to the Duke, in all expedition, an express Messenger, with advisement to assure his own Person, by declining the ordinary Road to London, for that he had credible Intelligence of a plot against his life, to be put in execution upon him in his said journey towards the Court. The Duke meeting the Messenger on the way, read the Letter, and smothering it in his pocket, without the least imaginable apprehension, rides forwards; His company being about that time not above seven or eight in number, and those not otherwise provided for their defence, then with ordinary swords. After this, the Duke had advanced three miles before he met with an old Woman, near a Town in the Road, who demanded, Whether the Duke were in the company? and bewraying some especial occasion to be brought to him, was lead to his Horse-side; where she told him, that in the very next Town where he was to pass, she had heard some desperate men vow his death: And thereupon would have directed him about by a surer way. This old woman's casual access, joined with that deliberate advertisement which he had before from his Noble Friend, moved him to participate both the tenor of the said Letter, and all the circumstances, with his Company; who were jointly upon consent, that the Woman had advised him well. Notwithstanding all which importunity, he resolved not to wave his way upon this reason, perhaps more generous than provident, that if, as he said, he should but once, by such a diversion, make his Enemy believe he were afraid of danger, he should never live without. Hereupon his young Nephew, Lord Viscount Fielding, being then in his Company, out of a Noble spirit, besought him, that he would at least honour him with his Coat, and blue Ribbon thorough the Town, pleading that his Uncle's life, whereon lay the property of his whole Family, was of all things under Heaven the most precious unto him; and undertaking so to gesture and muffle up himself in his hood, as the Duke's manner was to ride in cold weather, that none should discern him from him; and so he should be at the more liberty for his own defence. At which sweet Proposition, the Duke caught him in his arms, and kissed him; yet would not, as he said, accept of such an offer in that case from a Nephew, whose life he tendered as much as himself; and so liberally rewarded the poor Creature for her good will. After some short directions to his Company, how they should carry themselves, he road on without perturbation of his mind. He was no sooner entered into the Town, but a scambling soldier clapped hold of his bridle, which he thought was in a begging, or (perchance somewhat worse) in a drunken fashion; yet a Gentleman of his train that road a pretty distance behind him, conceiving by the premises it might be a beginning of some mischievous intent, spurred up his Horse, and with a violent rush severed him from the Duke, who with the rest went on quickly through the Town: neither, for aught I can hear, was there any further enquiry into that practice, the Duke peradventure thinking it wisdom not to resent discontentments too deep.  
At his return to the Court he found no change in Faces, but smothered murmur for the loss of so many gallant Gentlemen; against which his friends did oppose in their discourses the chance of War, together with a gentle expectation for want of supply in time.  
After the complaints in Parliament, and the unfortunate issue at rheezes, the Duke's fame did still remain more and more in obloquy among the mass of people, whose judgements are only reconciled with good successes: so as he saw plainly that he must abroad again to rectify by his best endeavour under the public Service, his own reputation. Whereupon new preparatives were in hand, and partly reparatives of the former beaten at Sea. And in the mean while, he was not unmindful in his civil course, to cast an eye upon the ways, to win unto him such as have been of principal credit in the Lower House of Parliament, applying lenitives, or subducting from that part where he knew the humours were sharpest: amidst which thoughts, he was surprised with a fatal stroke, written in the black Book of necessity.  
There was a younger Brother of mean fortunes, born in the County of Suffolk, by name john Felton, by nature of a deep melancholy, silent and gloomy constitution, but bred in the active way of a soldier: and thereby raised to the place of Lieutenant, to a Foot-Company, in the Regiment of Sir james Ramsey. This was the man that closely within himself had conceived the Duke's death. But what may have been the immediate or greatest motive of that felonious conception, is even yet in the Clouds.  
It was said at first, that he had been stung with a denial of his captain's place, who died in England; whereof thus much indeed is true, that the Duke, before he would invest him in the said place, advising first (as his manner was) with his Colonel; he found him to interpose for one Powel, his own Lieutenant, a Gentleman of extraordinary valour, and according to Military custom, the place was good, that the Lieutenant of the colonel's Company might well pretend to the next vacant Captainship under the same Regiment. Which Felton acknowledged to be in itself very usual and equitable, besides the special merit of the person. So as the aforesaid conceit of some rancour harboured upon this denial had no true ground. There was another imagination, that between a Knight of the same County (whom the Duke had lately taken into some good degree of favour) and the said Felton, there had been ancient quarrels not yet well healed, which might perhaps lie festering in his breast, and by a certain inflammation produce this effect. But that carries small probability, that Felton would so deface his own act, as to make the Duke no more than an obliqne sacrifice to the fumes of his private revenge upon a third person.  
Therefore the truth is, that either to honest a deed after it was done, or to slumber his conscience in the doing, he studied other incentives, alleging, not three hours before his execution, to Sir Richard Gresham, two only inducements thereof. The first, as he made it in order, was a certain libellous Book written by one Egglestone a Scottish Physician, which made the Duke one of the foulest Monsters upon the earth; and indeed, unworthy not only of life in a Christian Court, and under so virtuous a King; but of any room within the bounds of all humanity, if his prodigious predictions ●…d the least semblance of truth. The second, was, the Remonstrance itself of the Lower House of Parliament, against him, which perchance he thought the fairest cover, so he put in the second place. Whatsoever were the true motive, which I think none can determine but the Prince of darkness itself; he did thus prosecute the effect.  
In a by-Cutlers Shop on Tower-hill, he bought a ten penny Knife (so cheap was the instrument of this great attempt) and the sheath thereof he sewed to the lining of his Pocket, that he might at any moment draw forth the Blade alone with one hand, for he had maimed the other. This done, he made shift, partly, as it is said, on horseback, and partly on foot, to get to Portsmouth; for he was indigent and low in money, which perhaps might have a little edged his desperation. At Portsmouth on Saturday, being the 23. of August of that currant year, he pressed without any suspicion in such a time of so many pretenders to employment, into an inward Chamber, where the Duke was at breakfast (the last of his repasts in this world) accompanied with men of quality and action, with Monsieur de Soubes, and Sir Thomas Friar. And there a little before the Duke's rising from the Table, he went and stood expecting till he should pass through a kind of Lobby between that Room and the next, where were divers attending him. Towards which passage, as I conceive, somewhat darker than the Chamber which he voided, while the Duke came with Sir Thomas Friar close at his ear, in the very moment as the said Knight withdrew himself from the Duke, this assassinate gave him with a back blow a deep wound into his left side, leaving the Knife in his body. Which the Duke himself pulling out, on a sudden effusion of spirits, he sunk down under the Table in the next Room, and immediately expired.  
Certain it is, that some good while before, Sir Clement Throckmorton, a Gentleman then living, of grave judgement, had in a private conference advised him to wear a Privy-Coat, whose Counsel the Duke received very kindly; but gave him this answer, That against any popular fury, a Shirt of mail would be but a silly defence; and as for any single man's assault, he took himself to be in no danger. So dark is Destiny.  
One thing in this enormous accident, is, I must confess, to me beyond all wonder, as I received it from a Gentleman of judicious and diligent observation, and one whom the Duke well favour That within the space of not many minute's after●…d, fall of the body, and removal thereof into the first Room, there was not a living creature in either of the Chambers, no more than if it had lain in the Sands of Aethiopia; whereas commonly, in such cases, you shall note every where a great and sudden conflux of people unto the place, to hearken, and to see. But it should seem the very horror of the fact had stupefied all curiosity, and so dispersed the multitude, that it is thought even the murderer himself might have escaped (for who gave the blow, none could affirm) if he had not lingered about the House below, not by any confused arrest of conscience, as hath been seen in like examples, but by very pride in his own deed, as if in effect there were little difference between being remembered by a virtuous fame, or an illustrious infamy.  
Thus died this great Peer, in the 36 year of his age complete, and three days over, in a time of great recourse unto him, and dependence upon him, the House, and Town full of Servants and suitors, his Duchess in an upper Room, scarce yet out of her Bed; and the Court at that time not above six or nine miles from him, which had been the Stage of his Greatness.  
I have spent some enquiry whether he had any ominous presagement before his end. Wherein though both ancient and modern Stories have been infected with much vanity; yet oftentimes things fall out of that kind which may bear a sober construction, whereof I will glean two or three in the Duke's Case.  
Being to take his leave of my Lord's Grace of Canterbury, then Bishop of London, whom he knew well planted in the King's unchangeable affection by his own great abilities; after courtesies of course had passed between them: My Lord, says the Duke, I know your Lordship hath very worthily good accesses unto the King our sovereign, let me pray you to put his Majesty in mind to be good, as I no ways distrust, to my poor Wife and Children. At which words, or at his countenance in the delivery, or at both, my Lord Bishop being somewhat troubled, took the freedom to ask him whether he had never any secret abodement in his mind. No (replied the Duke) but I think some adventure may kill me as well as another man.  
The very day before he was slain, feeling some indisposition of body, the King was pleased to give him the honour of a visit, and found him in his Bed; where, and after much serious and private discourse, the Duke at his majesty's departing, embraced him in a very unusual and passionate manner, and in like sort his friend the Earl of Holland, as if his soul had divined he should see them no more: which infusions towards fatal ends, had been observed by some Authors of no light Authority.  
On the very day of his death, the Countess of Denbigh received a Letter from him; whereunto all the while she was writing her answer, she bedewed the Paper with her tears; And after a most bitter passion (whereof she could yield no reason, but that her dearest Brother was to be gone) she fell down in a swound. Her said Letter ended thus:  
I will pray for your happy return, which I look at with a great cloud over my head, too heavy for my poor heart to bear without torment; but I hope the great God of Heaven will bless you.  
The day following, the Bishop of Ely, her devoted friend, who was thought the fittest preparer of her mind to receive such a doleful accident, came to visit her; but hearing she was at rest, he attended till she should awake of herself, which she did with the affrightment of a dream, Her Brother seeming to pass thorough a field with her in her Coach; where hearing a sudden shout of the people, and ask the reason, it was answered to have been for joy that the Duke of Buckingham was sick. Which natural impression she scarce had related unto her Gentlewoman, before the Bishop was entered into her bedchamber for a chosen Messenger of the Duke's death.  
This is all that I dare present of that nature to any of judgement, not unwillingly omitting certain prognostic Anagrams, and such strains of fancy.  
He took to Wife, eight years and two months before his death, the Lady Katherine Manners, Heir general to the Noble House of Rutland; who besides a solid addition to his Estate, brought him three Sons and a Daughter, called the Lady Mary, his first born; his eldest Son died at Nurse, before his Journey at rheezes; and his third, the Lord Francis, was born after his father's death; so as neither his first nor his last were participant of any sense of his misfortunes or felicities: His second Son, now Duke of Buckingham, was born to cheer him after his return from that unlucky Voyage.  
For these sweet pledges, and no less for the unquestionable virtues of her Person and Mind, he loved her dearly, and well expressed his love in an act and time of no simulation towards his end, bequeathing her all his Mansion-houses during her natural life, and a power to dispose of his whole personal Estate, together with a fourth part of his Lands in jointure: He left his elder Brother of the same womb a Viscount, and his younger an Earl; Sir Edward Villiers, his half Brother on the father's side, he either preferred or removed (call it how you will) from his stepmother's eye to the Presidentship, where he lived in singular estimation for his justice and hospitality; and died with as much grief of the whole Province, as ever any governor did (before his religious Lady of sweet and Noble disposition) adding much to his honour. The eldest of the Brethren, and Heir of the Name, was made a Baronet, but abstained from Court, enjoying perhaps the greater Greatness of self-fruition.  
He left his Mother a Countess by Patent, in her own person, which was a new leading example, grown before somewhat rare, since the days of Queen Mary. His Sister of Denbigh (that right character of a good Lady) he most humbly recommended to the Queen; who after a discharge of some French in her Court that were to return, took her into three several places of honour and trust.  
In short, not to insist upon every particular Branch of those private preferments, he left all his female kindred, of the entire or half blood, descending of the Name of Villiers or Beaumond, within any near degree, either matched with Peers of the Realm actually, or hopefully with Earls Sons and Heirs; or at least with Knights, or Doctors of Divinity, and of plentiful condition: He did not much strengthen his own subsistence in Court, but stood there on his own feet, for the truth is, the most of his Allies rather leaned upon him, than shoared him up.  
His familiar servants, either about his person in ordinary attendance, or about his affairs of State, as his Secretaries; or of Office, as his Steward; or of Law, as that worthy Knight whom he long used to solicit his Causes; He lest all both in good Fortune, and, which is more, in good Fame.  
Things very seldom consociated in the instruments of great Personages.   

THE GREAT ACTION BETWEEN POMPEY AND CAESAR, Extracted out of the Roman and Grecian Writers, by H. W. K t. for an Historical Exercise.  

The DEDICATION to Sir EDMUND BACON Knight and Baronet.  
WHEN Rome in the revolution of 702. years, was grown pregnant of an universal Monarchy: After hard labour with foreign Hostilities, and ●…orse with inward Rents and Divisions which mangled her own bowels. The State yet free (or looseness mistaken, as it is often, for Liberty) seemed now to stand most in danger of two eminent Gentlemen, Caius Julius Caesar and Cneus Pompeius: The one of all men living, the likeliest to stir up again the cinders of the Marian, the other of the Syllan Party. These Gallants of the time had some years before, besides their near alliance by Marriage of Pompey to Julius Caesar's Daughter, (a Lady of imperious allurement) been likewise united together in a Triumviral Knot with Marcus Crassus, the wealthiest of the whole Nobility, which Consortship was in effect a kind of Segregate, or Cabinet-Senate; importing secretly no less, then that no Act of Moment should pass without consent of all three: So as upon this foundation, by their own personal Pursuits, by the mutual Strength and Coherence of their several Dependants; and by all other insinuative and ambient Arts, (in a long corrupted commonwealth, still forbidden, and still increasing) after they had run through the principal Dignities at home: Crassus on the Eastern side, with a puissant Army (as Money wants no Followers) went governor of Syria: Pompey Southward, got Libya of new, and retained both Spain's under former Lieutenants: As for Caesar, who by an insolent Consulship had awaked much jealousy, they gave him at first only Illyricum, and the nearer Gallia, Provinces then of little do, (as it were to impound his spirits:) yet lest the People (whose good will had cost him deep) should bluster in his behalf, the Senate was afterwards (between Favour and Fear) content to extend his Commission to Gallia Narbonensis, beyond the Alps. Thus were the Three distributed at distance enough as perchance was thought meet, upon more doubt hitherto of their too much agreement, and conference of Counsels and Plots together, then of any rapture, or disunion at hand: So unbiased is that which we call humane Providence, and so easily can the supreme Mover delude our Imaginations. For Crassus' not long after, either greedy of Fame or Spoil, and too confident (as it should seem) in the weakest of Advantages, Number, being miserably overthrown, and slain by the Parthians. And Julia a little before dying of an Abort in childbed, together with the Infant she bore, it lay thenceforth open and clear in every man's eye, that the Triumvirate dissolved, and She gone, without any Slip remaining, who had been the fastest Cement to hold her Father and Husband together, there would soon ensue, but a dry and sandy Friendship between them, being now left at large to the Scope and Sway of their voluntary Appetites.  
Wherefore, having undertaken for some entertainment of my private time, to compile out of the best of Ancient Memories, that mighty Action which anon under these two Chiefs involved almost the whole World, then known, I impute it not impertinent, to take first a short view how they stood before hand in Parallel together.  
They were both, in general, esteemed of Affections too strong for their own, or the common Quiet: That the one could not endure a Superior, nor the other an Equal; we are told both in Prose and in Verse, by ingenious Authors: But whether they agreed to leave us a draught of the greatness, or of the weakness of their Minds, I dare not affirm; some seeming Magnanimities being indeed (if you found them well) at the bottom, very Impotencies. Certainly, in sober conceit, howsoever they stood towards other, they were impatient of all comparison or approach between themselves; and of their former nearness, no fruit remaining but this, That the more inwardly they had then studied and understood each other, they now loved the less. For point of invading the sovereignty, such narrow Humorists as could look through them, thought Pompey of the two, rather the closer, than the better. For Caesar's was not a smothered, but a flagrant Ambition, kindling first by Nature, and blown by Necessity; in the course whereof one might observe a kind of Circular Motion: for as his vast Desires had exhausted him with unmeasureable gifts above private Condition; so again, when he was grown (as he would often sport with himself in earnest) a great deal worth less than nothing: He fell next to resolve (by an usual Coincidence of extremes) that he could not subsist, unless he were Master of all. In their practical ways Pompey had one very ignoble custom, to insert, or (as I may term it) to inoculate himself into other men's merits and praises: So he undermined Lucullus in Asia, and Metellus in Spain: the first a wise and magnificent, the other a good plain soldierlike Gentleman. But on the other side, all that went for good or bad in Caesar, was clearly his own; having so little need to borrow from any other virtues, or vices, that he left it a Doubt among the best Wits of his time, whether of which himself had most, in the two proper Dowries of that Age, Eloquence or Arms.    

A CHARACTER OF FERDINANDO di MEDICI Grand Duke of Tuscany. DEDICATED TO THE KING.  
BEing desirous, albeit I dare promise little fruit, or pleasure, to others by any use of my Pen; yet at least to record unto myself some such Observations as I picked up abroad in the time of my former travels and employments.  
I stand obliged in grateful memory, to say somewhat of a Prince long since at rest; namely, Fordinando Grand Duke of Tuscany, which was the ancient Hetruria, whose Palace of Piti at Florence, when I came often to review, and still me thought with fresh admiration; being incomparably (as far as I can yet speak by experience, or report) for solid Architecture, the most magnificent and regular Pile within the Christian World. It pleased him, by means of the Cavalier Vieta, his principal Secretary of Estate, to take some notice of my Person, though no intruder by Nature, and (God knows) of little ability.  
The said Duke Ferdinando was reputed a wise and wary Prince; and it was a Solid wisdom, rather than a Formal. He had been long a Cardinal, and at two or three Conclaves (as they call them) or Elections of Popes: so as he came to the Dukedom well seasoned before with practice, and well broken to Affairs: and with such an impression of his first Tincture (as falleth out naturally in all things else) that he always maintained a great interest in the Roman Court; as indeed was necessary for a near and jealous Confiner. He was in his Civil Regiment of a fine composition, between Frugality and Magnificence: A great cherisher of Manual Arts, especially such as tended to splendour and ornament; as Picture, Sculpture, cutting of crystals, Ambers, and all of the softer Gems, inlaying of Marbles, limning of Birds, Beasts, and Vegetables; embossing, and the like. In all which he drew to him from all parts the most exquisite Artificers with a settled Pension, and placed them in several compartments of his Palace, where he would come oftentimes to see them work for his own delight: and so he did furnish his Cabinets with Rarities at an easy rate, being, in truth, one of the greatest Oee●…nomists of his Age. And as he had much at first of the Deacon, and more of the Prince, so he did now and then not disdain to have a little of the Merchant; 'twas as well as fight with his galleys. After the death of the Duke Francisco his Brother, it was a while somewhat an Ambiguous Deliberative, whether he should divest the Cardinalship, or rule with a double Greatness, Ecclesiastical and Civil: But the hope of Posterity over-balanced the scale; and so he took to Wife the Daughter of Loraign, as it were to interest himself now in the Borders of France: whereas his Name before had spread itself in the Body. He was by nature more reserved then popular, and had virtues fit to beget estimation then love; yet he would duly in his Coach take almost every day a review of the City, and receive Petitions willingly. Besides, I have been showed a strange device of State, namely, an outward hole, like a Trunk, in a Wall of one of his Galleries, the bottom whereof was under lock and key, into which any one might let forth any secret intelligence, and convey it closely to the ears of the Prince: enough to disquiet all the days of his life. He was served by able Instruments of State, and diligently attended in Court; but rather by choice then number, and with more neatness than noise. He had a close and intrinsecal Favourite, by Birth a Stranger, being born in Piedmont, but by his favour made Archbishop of Pisa, a notable Screen between him and his Subjects; upon whom the Duke would handsomely bestow all manner of complaint; and he as willingly bear it. He was unquestionably the powerfullest of all the Italian Dukes: and being centred in the very Navel of italy, thereby the furthest from Invasion on all sides, and the most participant of the common Interest; which, I believe, among other causes, hath much preserved that State in busy times: yet surely, a little overawed, or over-looked by the King of Spain, who holdeth in actual possession Pont Hercule, Telemene, and Piombino, which we may perchance not improperly call the Fetters of Hetruria. Of stature he was somewhat above the mean, a gross body, not apt to motion, and as quiet a Countenance. His Moneys were the purest and least corrupted within the Italian bounds: and his Markets the best ordered for prices of comestible Ware; where, in all his Towns, a man might have sent out a Child for any flesh, or fish, at a rated price every Morning. To which temper more septentrional unlimber Nations have not yet bend themselves. On the other side, there was nothing brought into Florence from the Field, to the least sale, but by a long insensible servitude paid somewhat. This was the Civil and Natural habit of that Prince: and more might be said, if I were not pounded within an Epistle. This Duke, while I was a private Traveller in Florence, and went sometime by chance (sure I am, without any design) to his Court, was pleased, out of some gracious conceit which he took of my fidelity, (for nothing else could move it) to employ me into Scotland with a Casket of Antidotes, or Preservatives, (wherein he did excel all the Princes of the World) and with a Dispatch of high and secret Importance, which he had intercepted touching some practice upon the Succession to this Crown; so as I am much obliged to his Memory (though it was a painful journey) for that Honour, and other Favours and Beneficences; and especially because I came thereby first into the notice of the King your Father, of ever blessed memory, when your Majesty was but a blooming Rose, which afterwards drawn on my employment to the republic of Venice.   

THE ELECTION OF THE DUKE OF VENICE: With other Papers concerning that STATE prefixed.  

A Letter to the KING,  
December 9 1622. May it please your most Sacred Majesty,  
BY this right honest and learned Gentleman, by name Adolphus Ryplingham (who hath spent some time abroad in the best observations) I send your Majesty more Melon-seeds, of all sorts, which have been diligently chosen, and will, I hope, take better than the former. In my Letter to Master Secretary Calvert, I have discharged other duties, among which some will come very seasonably unto your Majesty about Christmass-time, to increase your recreation: For it is indeed a merry piece of service that I have sent your Majesty, a testimony of your conscience from Rome. Now, for this Letter, I have reserved a private and voluntary subject, which I have taken the freedom most humbly to present unto your majesty's benign censure. It is the preface to one of mine own poor labours, comprehending the argument thereof, and the motives. In which as yet unfinished lucubration (for so I may justly call it, having been for the most part born in the night) I have had occasion to fall upon some weighty considerations of Church and State; while I did search the progress of this republic, among the clouds and confusions of the middle Age. Between which times it was a kind of refreshment, and yet withal but a miserable pleasure, to contemplate how the Empire grew lank, and the Popedom tumorous proportionably, till Superstition, like a wild and raging fire, could at length be contained, neque suis terminis, neque alienis. These remarkable points I have now touched, to procure from your Majesty some pardon for a bold invocation therein of your Royal Name; being confident, that this h●…gh theorem of State, which I handle (though myself but a poor Student in meaner speculations) may prove not unworthy, in the subject itself, to receive some lustre from your gracious countenance. To conclude, the trouble that I have given your Majesty, instead of some present more valuable, to inaugurate the new approaching year. I do humbly submit the death or life of this work to your only doom, and though that ancient conceit was well commended when it was first born; Mallem Augusti judicium, quam Antonii Beneficium: yet I must crave leave to think it somewhat ignoble. And for my part, to assure your Majesty, that I shall more rejoice in the approbation of your judgement, then in the fruition even of your own benefits. And so I most humbly commit your most dear and Royal Person to God's continual love; remaining  
Your majesty's faithful Vassal, and long devoted poor Servant, Ottavio Baldi.   

[Praefatio in Historiam Venetam.]  
HEnricus Wottonius Anglo-Cantianus, postquam quatuor decem ferè annorum spatium legationibus apud Venetos exhauseram; Anno unici Mediatoris supra Millesimum sexcente simum vicesimo secundo, Aetatis meae quinquage simo tertio jam labente, de illorum Imperio scribere sum aggressus; ut si non satis vigilasse foris, pr●… publico munere, at saltem vixisse videar. Quippe levi profectò distant discrimine silentes à defunctis; nec multum interest, nos terminet fatalis dies, an praestinguat inertia. Igitur libido saepius sopita, nunc ardentius rediit, revolvendi vetera, novaque; ut ex radicibus eliciam, quo Fati ductu, queîs maximè institutis, quibusque Artibus, tam Inclyta Christiani Orbis Civitas tot saecula superaverit, inter varias Mari Terraque tam cladium quam victoriarum vices, nec minora fortasse ipsius Otii, quam Bel●…i mala. Hujus faelicitatis progressus, & fulcimenta retrò quaerenti, duo praecipuè, si rectè aestimo Fontes recludent: Historia temporum, & Imperii forma. Quae quàm potero brevissime, & quasi delibatim expediam. Ut hoc qualecunque conceptum Opus delectu magis rerum quam ubertate gestiat: simul etiam ne in alienae Reipublicae ar●…nis longiùs haerendo, Hospitis verecundiam violarem.  
Te verò sapientissime Jacobe Rex & Domine, sub cujus indulgentis judicii praesidio imbecillitas nostra civilibus ministeriis incubuit, quam quidem natura potiùs ad simplicior a studia damnaver at: Te, inquam, Clarissimum saeculi Lumen, in exordio prasentium curarum invocare liceat, ut tanti nominis, velut adflatu quodam alacriùs incaeptum peragam. Sed quia non levia meditamur, quod ante ingressum ingenui Authores solent, id quoque profiteor, ne sine obtrectatione, sine blanditiis, sensus, quos per omnem laboris partem res ipsa suggerit, liberrimè prolaturum, ne argumenti dignitatem dehonestet servilis oratio.  
Jam urbem Venetam, etc.   

[A Letter concerning the Original of Venice.]  
Right Honourable, and my very good Lord,  
I own your Lordship, even by promise, some account of my foreign Travels: and the Observations which I have taken touching this City and republic, are these;  
The general position of the City of Venice, I find much celebrated, even by the learnedest of the 
* Averhoes.  Arabians, as being seated in the very middle point between the Equinoctial and the Northern Pole, at 45. degrees precisely, or next hand, of latitude: yet their Winters are for the most part sharper than ours, though about 6. degrees less of elevation; perchance by vicinity tooth chilly tops of the Alps, for Winds as well as Waters are tainted in their passage; and the consequence which men make in common discourse, from the Degree of the place to the Temper, is indeed very deceivable, without a due regard to other circumstances.  
The Circuit thereof, through divers Creeks, is not well determinable; but as Astronomers use to measure the Stars, we may account it a City of the first Magnitude; as London, Paris, Gaunt, Milan, Lisbon, etc.  
How they came to be founded in the midst of the Waters, I could never meet with any clear Memorial. The best and most of their Authors ascribe their first beginnings rather to chance or necessity, than counsel; which yet in my opinion will amount to no more than a pretty conjecture intenebrated by Antiquity: for thus they deliver it; They say, that among the Tumults of the middle Age, when Nations went about swarming like Bees; Atylas, that great Captain of the Huns, and scourge of the World (as he was styled) lying long with a numerous Army at the Siege of Aquileia, it struck a mighty affrightment and confusion into all the nearer parts; whereupon, the best sort of the bordering People, out of divers Towns, agreed either suddenly, or by little and little (as fear will sometimes collect, as well as distract) to convey themselves and their substance into the uttermost bosom of the Adriatic Gulf, and there possessed certain desolate Islets, by Tradition, about seventy in number, which afterwards (necessity being the Mother of Art) were tacked together with Bridges, and so the City took a rude form, which grew civilised with time, and became a great example what the smallest things well fomented may prove.  
They glory in this their beginning two ways: First, that surely their Progonitors were not of the meanest and basest quality; (for such having little to lose, had as little cause to remove.) Next, that they were timely instructed with Temperance and Penury (the Nurses of Moderation.) And true it is, that as all things savour of their first Principles, so doth the said republic (as I shall afterwards show) even at this day: for the Rule will hold as well in Civil as in Natural Causes.  
Caetera desunt.   

[An Epistle Dedicatory of the following Discourse.]  
Right Honourable, and my very good Lord,  
HAving here lately seen the deaths of two, and the elections of two other Dukes, within the compass of six weeks, I have been bold to entertain your Lordship with a little story of these changes and competitions, though with small presumption that you can take any pleasure in my simple report thereof, unless it win some favour by the freshness or the freedom.  
For the rest, the whole Town is here at the present in horror and confusion, upon the discovering of a foul and fearful conspiracy of the French against this State; whereof no less than thirty have already suffered very condign punishment, between men strangled in prison, drowned in the silence of the night, and hanged in public view; and yet the bottom is invisible.  
If God's mercy had not prevented it, I think I might for mine own particular have spared my late supplication to the King about my return home towards next Winter: For I cannot hope that in the common Massacre public Ministers would have been distinguished from other men; nay, rather we might perchance have had the honour to have our ●…ses thought worthiest the rifling. I shall give your Lordship a better account of this in my next; having now troubled you beyond excuse with my poor Papers. Our blessed God keep your Lordship in his love.  
Venice this 25. of May, 1618. Your Lordships with all true devotion, HENRY WOTTON.    

THE ELECTION OF THE NEW DUKE OF VENICE After the Death of GIOVANNI BEMBO.  
ON Friday, being the 16 of March, in this year 1618. about an hour before sunsetting, Giovanni Bembo the 91 Duke of Venice, ended his days in the 75 year of his Age: His disease was a fever occasioned by some obstruction in his reins that stopped the course of his water: Whether the Physicians did hasten his end, by taking from him more blood than his years could spare, is now too late a question. His name is one of the Ancientest among them. His Father was a Gentleman, almost of the lowest poverty, till he matched with a wealthy citizen's Daughter, who afterwards proved the Heir of her Father, leaving issue male this Duke Giovanni and Philippo his Brother: Philippo (who only was married, being not the custom of Venice for more Brothers than one to take Wife) died some few months before the Duke, in greater reputation than degree: For their Laws do suppress the Brothers of their Dukes. The Duke himself did arise by employments at Sea; His first Action of note was in the battle of Lepanto; where besides some wounds that he received for his own share, the success of that great day, in such trepidation of the State, made every man meritorious. He was lastly (to omit his middle steps) while the. republic stood under Excommunication by this Pope (the King of Spain likewise then arming) made General of their Maritime Forces. This is the solemnest Title they can confer under the princedom, being indeed a kind of Dictatorship: to which they have no Charge equivalent on the Land, having been content (as it seems) in honour of their Situation, to give the Prerogative of trust to that Element: To the princedom he was chosen, being none of the Competitors then in voice. Who unable to make themselves, and unwilling to make their Concurrents, (as he fashion is) agreed in a Third: He held the Place two years, three months, and twelve days with general good liking: though indeed, his praises were rather Moral then Intellectual, as more consisting in goodness of disposition, than any other eminent Ability. For he was neither eloquent, profound, nor learned, only notable in his splendour and oeconomical magnificence, beyond ordinary example, and perchance in another nature beyond Permission: For these Popularities among them, are somewhat hazardous. To ambassadors he gave small satisfaction, save with his eyes, which were very gracious and kind. In his Countenance otherwise, there was an invincible weakness, always blushing while he spoke, and glad when he had done. Whereby his Answers were the more scant and meager. But this did imitate wisdom: For a Duke of Venice that opens himself much, will be chidden. To conclude, he was in his civil course a good Patriot, and in his natural, a good man. They that are willing to censure him further, think his whole composition fit for the quality of the State, than the times. Now being thus passed away, the first public Care was to order his Funeral; till when, the custom doth not suffer that a new can be chosen. This was done the Thursday following with all due solemnity; and in the mean time was made five Correctors and three Inquisitors. The Correctors are to consider what Laws be fit to be added or amended touching the future Election, or in the form or the Duke's Oath, which they gently call his 
* La Promissi●…ne Ducal●….  Promise: The Inquisitors are, upon Complaint (and not otherwise) against the deceased Prince, especially in matter of Extortion, to inquire of the truth, and accordingly to punish his Heirs. Which Office doth continue in Authority the term of a year. The Correctors at this time presented four new Law.  
1. That the Brothers and Children of the Prince shall take place in public Processions, after the principal Magistrates, namely, next to the Censors.  
2. That immediately after the choice of any new Duke, in the next Grand council, shall be openly rehearsed all former Decrees against Defrauders of the public Chests. This they call in their Dialect Intaccamento di Casse, as unpardonable here as Treason.  
The other two merit no Memory, being only about little increase of Provision for the Duke's Attendants, and some Enlargement of time for the Correctors Office, which heretofore did determine as soon as the Election began.  
These new Orders thus made, and approved by the Grand council (from whence all Authority floweth) they proceeded on Friday morning to the Election.  
About which time were discovered four Competitors, Antonio Priuli, Gieconimo Giustiniano, Augustino Nani, and Niccolo-Donato. The three first all Procuratori di St. Marco; Who are in number Nine, in degree the second Personages of the State, and commonly the Seminary of their Princes; though not of necessity, as well appeareth by the fourth Concurrent, who was yet no more than a Senator of the Wide Sleeve; a Vesture of eminent Gravity and Place in their counsels. Of these Priuli and Giustiniano having before been chosen Commissioners in the Business of the Uscocchis, were by a new Warning and Penalty in the Senate on Friday before (the Prince than languishing) commanded to be gone. But this did not prejudice their Hopes. For I have noted one singular property in the Composition of this State, That no man's fortunes, without other Demerits, are hindered by their Absence.  
Now it shall be fit to set down, with what Foundations, and with what Oppositions, they entered the List.  
Priuli had passed through all the principal Charges of the State in the Civil way; And had lastly in the Military been Generalissimo (till sickness sent him home) in the Austrian Action. His own Family numerous; His Alliance strong; Himself a man of moderate nature, of pleasant and popular Conversation, rather free then sour and reserved; of good extemporal judgement and discourse, for the satisfying of public Ministers, which is the Duke's proper part. Lastly, Threescore and ten years old (for that must not be forgotten among his helps.) But he suffered two Objections, though both rather within his Fortune, than his Nature. The one, that he was the Father of a Cardinal, which might distract his Affection between the State and the Church. The other, that he was poor, and somewhat behindhand. Of which Objection on the other side, his Favourers made up part of his merit, as having indebted himself in the public Service.  
Giustiniano's was a Gentleman, that had likewise passed through the best places at home, of excellent Gravity and Judgement, and of most unquestionable Integrity; not violent, not avaricious, singularly beloved of the people; to whose satisfaction in a time of this nature, it was perhaps meet to yield somewhat. He was besides, one year elder than Priuli; but his old age did not help him so much as he was hindered by the Antiquity of his Name For the princedom having been for the two last Successions in the old Families, it was likely, the new would now strive to bring it back again among their own Blood.  
Nani had carried himself meritoriously in foreign employments, particularly against the Pope, in the time of the Interdict; which held up his Credit among the good Patriots. And having been near the supreme Place at the last Election, he reentered now with the more hope. Besides, being by nature stiff and sensitive, his cunning friends did mould that to his advantage; the time seeming to need such a man. But two wild rumours did much oppress him, The one with the better sort, that he had purchased by close gifts certain of the poor gentlemen's Favours: The other with the people, that he had of late been Author of some hard Decrees; his age besides was but 63 years, and his complexion duràble.  
Donato (surnamed Testolina, for the littleness of his head) had been long time conversant in the gravest Consultations, was reputed one of the wealthiest Gentlemen of the whole City, of good natural capacity, and above the rest adorned with Erudition. Besides, he had the Commendation of fourscore years, and of a weak body. But it was thought somewhat presumptuous, that he should contend with persons of higher Rank: whereupon some conceived his end, only to gain a friend by his voices, and to make himself Procurator in the room of him that should be Prince.  
With these hopes, and with these objections, they entered the Field, after they had laboured their friends one whole Week, namely, from the Friday night of the Duke's death, to the Friday morning following, and perhaps a good while before: within which time, at the place of their Broglio (as they term it) where the Concurrents sue for voices, Nani the youngest of the four, was noted by some vacant searching wits, to tread softly, to walk stoopingly, and to raise himself from Benches where he sat with laborious and painful gesture, as Arguments of no lasting man. Such a counterfeiting thing sometimes is Ambition. To come now to the Election.  
The Election of the Duke of Venice is one of the most intricate and curious Forms in the World; consisting of ten several precedent Ballotations. Whereupon occurreth a pretty Question, What need there was of such a deal of solicitude in choosing a Prince of such limited Authority? And it is the stranger, for having been long in use, the ancient Forms being commonly the most simple. To which doubt, this Answer may serve the turn, that it was (as the tradition runneth) a monk's Invention of the Benedictin Order. And in truth, the whole mysterious frame therein, doth much ●…avour of the cloister. For first, a Boy must be snatched up below, and this Child must draw the Balls, and not themselves, as in all other Elections: then is it strangely intermingled, half with Chance, and half with Choice. So as Fortune, as well as Judgement or Affection hath her part in it, and perhaps the greater. One point (as now and then happeneth, even in the mòst curious webs of this nature) seemeth somewhat unequal. Namely, that the 41 (who are the last immediate Electors of the Duke) must be all of several Families, and of them twenty five at least concur to his Nomination. For hereby the old names (which are but twenty four) cannot make a Duke without help from some one of the new. And that is not easily gotten, through emulation between them, as strong perhaps as any public respect. So as the two last Dukes, Memo and Bembo; both of the ancient Blood, may upon the whole matter be accounted Irregularitives of Fortune, who hath likewise her Anomola.  
Now to set down the Variations of Chance in every step of these Scrutinies, were tedious. Sure it is, that at the enclosing of the 41. (for those must be shut up like our Jurors of Inquest, but that they are better fed) Donato had fifteen sure Balls, Nani twelve, Giustiniano's ten, and Priuli but four. So as no one of them had voices enough to exclude the other three from making a Duke: for to this Privative Power are required seventeen Balls at least. Nor any two of them, except Donato and Nani had reciprocally an inclusive Power to advance each other by joining: for though Donato might have made Giustiniano, yet he could not be made by him, because their united strength was but precisely twenty five, which number indeed would have served the turn, but that one of them on Donato's part (himself being of the number) must be abated. For contrary to the form of Election in the Empire, no man here can bestow his Ball upon his own person. So as upon the matter doth arise a kind of Riddle, That Donato was the weaker by his presence.  
Thus they stood in their several Strengths when they were shut up with a Guard about the Palace: where during this Election, all inferior Tribunals cease, only the college of the Preconsultors (as they term it) is daily open for the hearing of Ambassadors; the Senate likewise, and the High council of Ten in their ordinary vigour. They remained close twelve full days: In which time divers false voices were vented. But none of the Competitors arriving to a sufficient number of Balls, they fell (as the fashion is) to ballote some others that did not concur. Among whom, nothing was so memorable as the Ballotation of Lorenzo Vini●…ro; who having in the late Fight at Sea, with the Neopolitan Fleet preserved his honour, when the rest were nearer shame, had now eighteen Balls for the supreme place of his country, though otherwise as yet, of but small rank himself. At last these 41 Electors tired with trials, Nani unable to make himself, not inclining to Giustiniano, as being of an old House, with Priuli privately distated, and generally, wishing him best, that was unlikeliest to live long; On Thursday morning, being the fifth of April, declared unto his friends, that he would join with Donato: which the rest understanding, they owed (though not to him, yet) to themselves more good will, than not to favour that which they could not hinder. And so Niccolo Donato was made Duke, with thirty nine Balls, his own exempted (as I have said) by Law, and some one of the rest shrinking, I know not how, per Capriccio perhaps, rather than despite. This is the sixth man under the Degree of a Procurator, that hath been made Duke since the foundation of the City; which makes Nani the more odious among his own Colleagues, for advancing an inferior Order; which perchance hereafter upon the example may grow more familiar. He was published with slight Applause, and with more approbation (as it seems) of the Stars, then of men. For it is vulgarly reported from his own mouth, and here strongly believed, That an ginger some years since in Padova, having cast his Nativity, told him he should die in Carcere nobili, which they now apply to so restrained a princedom, helping it with conceit; as commonly those kind of Predictions do need.  

The Election of the following Duke after the death of Niccolo Donato.  
ON Tuesday the eighth of May Niccolo Donato died, about two hours of the night, as near as the moment could be known, which his Nephews and Servants did conceal, and is never hastily published by the State. His disease was an Apoplexy, wherewith being surprised after a gentle fit or two of an Ague, he had no leisure, or no mind to alter a former Will, made while he was but a Senator, so miserably, as if he had meant to be frugal even after his death: For therein he left but twenty five Ducats to all his Servants, and only twenty to the Nuns of Sta. Chiara at Murano, where he disposed his Body to be laid. The short time of his princedom (having been but a month and two days) did yield little matter of observation. One thing was notable, that entering with small applause of the common men, he suddenly got their favours upon a false conceit. For a Decree having passed in his Predecessors time about the reformation of Bakers (who made scant loaves) and being conceived to be his deed, the Plebeyity (whose supreme Object is Bread) cried in all corners, Viva Donato. In his nature there was a strange Conjunction of two things rarely seen together, Love of learning, and Love of money. And this is all that can be said of him.  
Now being gone, the following Election was likely to be short, the same Concurrence appearing as before, and the affections having been so newly sounded and prepared. Therefore (not to extend discourse) the Duke's Funeral Rites being performed the Monday after his death, the Thursday morning following, Antonio Priuli was made Duke, with all Balls. For Giustiniano's having but eight voices among the last One and forty Electors, and Nani (by strange, and almost prodigious fortune) none, the foresaid eight friends of Giustiniano, unprofitable for him whom they loved best, did immediately concur with Priuli's thirty three voices. And so a solemn Ambassage is preparing out of the body of the Senate to determine his Commission in Friuli, and to recall him to the supreme honour of his country. When at the very same time or little difference, one of the two Austrian Commissioners on the other side, is dead in the midst of the Treaty. So various are humane Fortunes and Conditions.    

A MEDITATION Upon the Twenty second Chapter of GENESIS.  By H. W. 
IN this wonderful Piece of Sacred Story, behold the Father of the Believers, at extreme Age, surprised (as it should seem by the Circumstances of the Text) in his Bed by a Commandment from GOD, to sacrifice his only Son: In which case, all the powers of his mind being suddenly shaken with an infinite combat between Faith and Nature, we may upon the whole matterter conceive Him to have broken forth into some such discourse with himself, as followeth.  
WHat! Can this possibly be the voice of GOD, which I heard? or have not rather some strange impressions of the Night deluded my Fancy? Yea, Thy voice it was (my GOD) i●… was thy voice: How can thy humble Servant deny 〈◊〉? with whom seven times before descending from the Throne of thy Glory, thou hast vouchsafed even to commune in this Vale of Tears.  
When thou didst first call me out of the darkness of my father's house into thy saving Light; when thou didst often cherish and encourage me in the steps of my Pilgrimage; when thou didst furnish me with Plenty, and Crown me with Victory in a strange Land, when, lastly, thou didst ●…en overlade my feeble age with joy in a rightful Heir of mine own Body; was I forward at all these times to acknowledge thee the GOD of my support and comfort? and shall I now question thy voice, when thou demandest but a part of thine own Benefits? No, (my dear Isaac) although the Heavens know how much I love thee; yet, if thou wert, or couldst be millions of times more precious in the eyes of thy trembling Father, I would summon together all the strength of mine aged Limbs to render thee unto that gracious GOD from whom I had thee. Alas (poor Boy) how sweetly thou slumberest, and in thy harmless Bed dost little think what change is towards thee! but I must disturb thy rest. Isaac, arise, and call up my Servants; bid them prepare for a journey which we are to make unto the Mount Moriah: and let some Wood be carried for the burning of a Sacrifice. Mean while I will walk out a little by myself to contemplate the declining Stars, and the approach of the Morning.  
O ye Ornaments of the Sky, who when all the World is silent, obey your Maker in the determinate Order of your Motions! Can Man behold his own duty in a fairer Volume? why then stand I gazing here, and do not rather go myself to hasten my Servants, that I may execute his Will? But stay: His Will? Why? Is his Will contrary to the example of his own Justice? Did he not heavily punish Cain, even at the beginning of the first World, for killing but a Brother? and can I stay my Child, and imbrue my hands in mine own Bowels, without offence of his Immortal Majesty? Yes; why not? The Act of Cain, was the Act of his own sinful malice; but I have received an immediate Command from God himself. A Command? Why? Is his Command against his Law? shall the Fountain of all Truth be served with Contradictions? Did not the same God, straight after the universal Deluge, (as our Fathers have told us) denounce this Judgement; That whoso sheddeth man's blood, his blood shall be shed? How then can I herein obey my God, but I must withal disobey Him?  
O my weak Soul, what poor Arguments dost thou search to cover thine own rebellious Affections! Is there any Warrant higher than his Will? or any better Interpreter of his Will then himself? If the Princes of the Earth (who are but mortal Types of his invisible Glory) can alter their Edicts at pleasure; shall not the Lord of the whole (whom Angels and Men adore) have leave to dispense with his own Prohibitions? Yes surely: But then how shall the Blessing that my good God hath determined upon my Seed, and even upon this very Child, be accomplished, if I destroy the Root? O Lord, was not thy Divine goodness pleased, in the depth of thy Mercy, to accept my Belief for Righteousness? and shall I now frustrate thy Promises with my Obedience? But what! am I fallen again into a new Reluctation? Have I before contested with thy Justice? and shall I now dispute thy Power? Didst thou not create the Light before the Sun? and the effect before the cause? and shall I bind thee to the Passions of a natural Agent? Didst thou not make this All of Nothing, even by thy Word (which was thy Wisdom?) and foment all that thou hast made by thy Spirit (which is thy Love?) and shall I doubt but thou canst raise innumerable Nations out of the very Ashes of my poor Isaac? Nay, did I not even at first receive him in a manner from a dead Womb? and art not thou still the same Almighty and ever living God, Merciful Father, full of all tenderness and compassion, that seest from Heaven whereof we are made? Pardon my Discourses, and forget my Delays; I am now going to perform thy good Pleasure. And yet there is remaining one humble Suit; which refuse not (O my God) though it proceed from the weakness of thine unworthy Creature: Take my Child, and all that is mine; I have resigned him with my whole Heart unto thy Will. He is already thine, and mine no longer; and I glory that he shall die upon thy holy Altar. But yet I fear withal, that these my shaking hands, and fainting Limbs, will be seized with horror; be not therefore (Dear Lord) displeased, if I use my Servants in the Execution. How now, my Soul! Dost thou shrink in the last Act of thy Loyalty? Can I yet walk up and down about vile and ordinary Functions, and when my God is to be served, do my joints and Members fail me? Have I humbled my desires to his Will, and shall I deny him the choice of his own Instrument? Or if his indulgent Mercy would permit it, shall I suffer another to anticipate the cheerfulness of my Obedience? O thou great God of Life and Death! who mightest have made me an insensible Plant, a dead Stone, or a poisonous Serpent, and yet even in that likewise, I should have conduced to the variety of thy glorious Wisdom; but hast vouchsafed to endue us with the form of Man, and to breath into our first Parent that spark of thy Divine Light which we call Reason, to comprehend and acknowledge therewith thy high and indisputable sovereignty over all Nature; Thou then (Eternal maker and Mover, whose Will is the first of Causes, and whose Glory is the last of Ends) direct my Feet to the Place which thou hast appointed; strengthen there these poor Hands to accomplish thy Pleasure, and let Heaven and Earth obey thee.   

A MEDITATION UPON CHRISTMAS-DAY: Of the Birth and Pilgrimage of our Saviour CHRIRT on Earth.  
O Glorious Morning, wherein was born the Expectation of Nations; and wherein the long Suspired Redeemer of the World, did (〈◊〉 his Prophets had cried) rend the Heavens, and come down in the Vesture of Humanity! Thou, that by the virtue of the Highest, wert conceived in the Womb of an inviolate Virgin, of all Women the most blessed; and yet more blessed by being thy Daughter, and thy Servant, than thy Mother. Thou, at whose Birth the choir of Heaven did sing Hallelujahs, and Angels made haste to acquaint even Shepherds with the news! Stay, my Soul, before I go further, and crave leave of thy Lord to ask some Questions. Why wouldst thou be first made known to the meanest condition of Men? why were they sent to see their Saviour, not in some gorgeous Palace, but in the vilest Room of a common Inn, and (instead of a Cradle decked with Rich embroideries) lying in a Despicable Manger? Why didst Thou not choose for the Place of thy blessed mother's Delivery, either Athens the Learned, or Rome the Imperial, or Jerusalem the Holy City? Or since poor Bethlehem, by thy prophet's prediction, must receive that Honour, why didst Thou not send Millions of Cherubims and Seraphims before Thee for thy Harbingers? No, my God, it was Thy Will, it was Thy Will (which is the highest of Reasons) by thy low beginning in the flesh, to confound all Pride, and to teach the Glories of the Earth to blush. Yet, thus born, and thus homely received; behold, a new Star descending to illustrate thy obscurity, and to conduct the Wise Men of the East (now wise indeed) with their choicest Presents to adore Thee. O strange Phaenomenon! Did ever Hipparchus, or the great Trismegist, or the greater Moses, or all the Egyptian Gazers contemplate before such a Planet? So irregular, so excentrical, as if the Celestial Lights had forsaken their proper Motions and Position, to welcome the Lord of all Nature into the World!  
And now, in the Course of Thy precious Life, what shall I first, what shall I most admire? All is depth, all is wonder and amazement. Shall I first Celebrate Thy ever-blessed Name, for convincing the great Doctors of the Law, at twelve years of Thine Age, when Thy Divine Essence began to blaze, which had lain before, as it were, slumbering in the veil of Thy Manhood? Or shall I pass from this Miracle of knowledge to Thy Miracles os Charity, in healing the Blind, the Lame, the Deaf, the Dumb? Or shall I more insist upon the Acts of Thy Power, in checking the Winds, in walking on the Waves, in raising the Dead, in ejecting the impure Spirits? Or shall I remain stupefied (as all the Learnedest part of the World was, which lay grovelling in the Contemplation of inferior Causes) that at Thy Coming, all their false Oracles and Delusions were strucken mute, and nothing to be heard at Delphos, or Hammon? Or shall I contemplate, that at Thy Passion all Nature did suffer, the Earth did shake, and the Heavens were darkened? Or lastly, after Thou hadst triumphed over Death and Hell (whose Keys are in thine hand) shall I glorify Thy Assumption into the Highest Heavens?  
Yes, Lord, all this, and much more there is then the whole World can contain, if it were written: Yet one thing remains, even after Thy glorious Departure, for the comfort of our Souls, above all the Miracles of Thy Goodness, and of Thy Power, That Thou hast dispensed Thy saving Doctrine unto curious Men, not only by Eloquent Sophists, and subtle schoolmen, (such as have since distracted and torn thy Church in pieces;) but by the simpliest and silliest Instruments: so as it must needs be Thy Divine Truth, since it was impressed by no Humane Means. For, give me leave again, my dear Lord, to demand, in the ecstasy and Admiration of one of Thy blessed Vessels, Where is the Wise? Where is the Scribe? Where is the Disputer of this World? How should we have known, how should we have apprehended Thy Eternal Generation, if Thou hadst not been pleased to vouchsafe a silly Fisherman to lean on Thy Breast, and to inspire him to tell us from his Boat, that, In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God?  
Therefore to Thee, Thou Incarnate Word, and Wisdom of the Father; Thou only true Messiah, in whom all Prophecies are accomplished, and in whom the Will of God, and the Desires of Men are fulfilled, look down upon us Thy unworthy Creatures, from where Thou sittest in Thy Glory: Teach us Thy Love; but such a Love as doth fear to offend Thee: Teach us Thy Fear; but such a Fear as first doth love Thee. And endue us with Thy Grace, whilst by Thy Permission we walk on this Globe, which Thy blessed Feet have trodden, to solemnize this Day of Thy Nativity, not with wanton Jollities, but with Hymns of Joy, and Meditations of like Comfort.   

LETTERS TO several PERSONS.   

LETTERS TO SEVERAL PERSONS.  

To Sir Arthur Throckmorton.  
SIR,  
I Have been desirous of some fit opportunity, to render you humble thanks for a very kind Letter which I received from you; and I cannot have a fit, then by the return of this Gentleman, who beareth much devotion to your Name. I will therefore by his honest hand, present you the service of a poor Scholar, for that is the highest of my own Titles, and in truth, the farthest end of my Ambition: This other Honour (wherewith it hath pleased His Majesty to clothe my unworthiness) belonging unproperly unto me; who, I hope, am both born, and form in my Education, fit to be an Instrument of Truth then of Art. In the mean while; till His Majesty shall resolve me again into my own plain and simple Elements, I have abroad done my poor endeavour, according to these occasions which God hath opened.  
This Gentleman leaveth Italy in present tranquillity, though not without a little fear of some alteration on the side of Savoy: Which Prince seemeth to have great and unquiet thoughts, and I think, they will lack no fomentation from abroad. Therefore after the remembrance of my most affectionate poor service to yourself, and to my Honourable Ladies, your Wife and Daughters, and your whole House, (with which we are now so particularly conjoined) I commit You and Them to our merciful God.  
Your willing Servant, HENRY WOTTON.   

To Sir Arthur Throckmorton.  
SIR,  
I Am sorry, that having so good opportunity to write unto you, joined with so much Obligation, I have withal so little matter at the present: yet I will entertain you with a few Rapsodie●….  
My Lord my Brother is returned a day sooner than he thought, out of Kent, for that the King (who is now at Hampton-Court) hath appointed all his Counsellors, and all the Judges, to meet Him here to morrow about matters of the Mint, as it is voiced, perhaps to cover some greater Subject, and yet Money is a great one.  
On Saturday the King goeth to Windsor, there to honour with his presence both his Sons and his Favourites at their Instalments.  
On Sunday last the new Venetian Ambassador had his first Audience at Greenwich: at which time the old took his leave, and received from the King three Honours, An addition of the English Lion to his Coat-Armour, knighthood, and the Sword with the Furniture from the King's side, wherewith he had Knighted him: which last, being more than was done to any of his Predecessors, and done to him who had deserved less than any, is enough to prove, that wise Kings know how to do graces, and hid affections: so mystical things are Courts.  
Now, to lead you a little abroad; for I have no more to say within our own visible Horizon: We have advice out of Germany, that they have extorted from the Emperor his consent to make Mathias King of the Romans: so as having first spoiled him of obedience and reverence; next, of his estates and titles; they have now reduced him to so low a case, that he is no longer Patron of his own voice. Howsoever, this violent cure is likely to settle the Motions of Germany; out of which country, when they are quiet at home, they may perhaps send us some suitors hither. This is all (Sir) that I can write at the present; which is your advantage; for if there had been more, you had been further troubled: And so with many hearty thanks for your kind Letters, and with many hearty wishes for the prosperity of your whole House, I humbly rest  
May 8. 1611. Your most affectionate poor Friend to serve you, HENRY WOTTON.   

Feb. 1613. SIR,  
ONe Reason of my writing now unto you, is because it seemeth a great while unto me since I did so. Another, to give you many thanks (which upon the casting up of my reckon, I find I have not yet done) for that Gelding wherewith you so much honoured me: which, in truth, either for goodness or beauty runneth for one of the very best about this place; And I have had a great deal of love made unto me for him by no small ones. After this, I must plainly tell you, that I mean to persuade you, I am sorry I cannot say, to invite you, (for my Mind would bear that word better than my Fortune) to bestow yourself, and your whole Family upon us this Shrovetide, if it be but for three days at the conjunction of the Thames and the Rhine, as our ravished Spirits begin to call it. The occasion is rare, the expense of time but little, of money inconsiderable: You shall see divers Princes, a great confluence of Strangers, sundry entertainments to shorten your patience, and to reward your travel: Finally, nothing spared, even in a necessitous time. I will add unto these Arguments, that out of your own Store at home, ●…ou may much increase the beauty of this Assembly; ●…nd your Daughters shall not need to provide any great splendour of clothing, because they can ●…pply that with a better contribution, as hath been ●…ell authenticated even by the Kings own testimony of them. For though I am no longer an Ambassador, yet am I not so bankrupt of Intelligence, but that I have heard of those rural passages.  
Now let me therefore, with this hobbling Pen, again and again pray you to resolve upon your coming, if not with all the fair Train, yet yourself and my Lady, and my Nephew and his Wife, or at the least of leasts, the Masculine.  
We begin to lay off our mourning habits, and the Court will shortly, I think, be as merry as if it were not sick. The King will be here to morrow: The Friday following he goeth to Windsor, with the Count Palatine, about the Ceremony of his Instalment. In the mean time, there is expected the Count Henry of Nassaw, to be at the said Solemnity, as the Representant of his Brother. Yesternight, the Count Palatino invited all the Counsel to a solemn Supper, which was well ordered: He is a Gentleman of very sweet hope, and hath rather gained upon us, than lost any thing after the first Impression. And so, Sir, having ended my Paper, I will end my Letter with my hearty prayers for the prosperity of yourself, and yours, ever resting  
Your faithful poor Friend to serve you, HENRY WOTTON.   

To the King. 1615.  
May it please Your Sacred Majesty,  
I Beseech your Majesty to pardon me a little short repetition, how I have spent my time since my departure from your Royal sight, because I glory in your goodness.  
I have been employed by your favour in four several Treaties differing in the Matter, in the Instruments, and in the Affections.  
The first was for the sequestration of Juliers, wherein I was joined with the French.  
The second for the provisional possession of the two Pretendents: wherein (contrary to the complaint of the Gospel) the Labourers were more than the Harvest.  
The third was for a defensive League between the united Provinces and the united Princes: Who though they be separate Bodies of State, do now by your only Mediation, make one Body of Strength.  
The fourth was for the composing of some differences between your own and this People; in matter of Commerce; which hath exceeded the other Three, both in length and in difficulty, for two Reasons as I conceive it:  
First, Through the sensibleness of the Subject, which is private Utility: next, because it had a secret commixture of public respects, and those of no light consequence: For surely, it importeth more to let the King of Spain dispense alone the Commodities of the East, then for either of us to want them.  
Now of the three former Treaties, I have given your Majesty an account in divers Dispatches, according to my poor apprehensions. As for this last, they that have eased my weakness in the conduct thereof (I mean my good Associates, by whose light and leadings I have walked) will ease me likewise, by your gracious leave, in the Relation. By them it may please your Majesty to understand in what fair terms we have left it; somewhat resembling to my fancy those Women of Nombre de Dios, who (they say) are never brought to bed in the place where they conceive, but bring forth their children in a better Air: And so I hope that our travels and unformed conceptions will take life in your own kingdom, which will be more honour to their Birth. For our parts, I dare affirm of these your Commissioners, that now return unto the comfort of your gracious Aspect, That they have discharged their Duties and their Consciences, with all faithful care of your majesty's Commandments. I am confident likewise that they will give me their honest Testimony: And we are bound jointly to profess unto your Majesty (from whom we receive our estimation) the respects and kindnesses that have been here done us, as your Vassals.  
And so with my continual prayers to God for your blessed Being, I here remain, till your Majesty shall vouchsafe me again the grace of your eyes,  
Your Majesties long devoted poor Servant, HENRY WOTTON.   

To the marquis of Buckingham,  
January 25. 1619. My most Noble Lord,  
I Will be bold, by this opportunity, to give His Majesty, through your lordship's hands, an account of a Command which I had from him at Theobalds', about sounding how the Venetian Ambassador stood satisfied with the late determination touching his predecessor Donato.  
I did visit the said Ambassador immediately at my return from the King, and saluted him, as by express Commandment; interjecting some words of mine own gladness, that he had received contentment in this tender point, which would signalise his beginnings. This I said, because in truth I had found him always before the more passionate in it, by some reflection upon himself. His answer (after due thanks for His majesty's gracious remembrance of him from abroad) was, that for his own part, he was Contentissimo, and had represented things home in the best manner. He hoped likewise it would be well tasted there also, though with some doubt, because the State, out of their own devotion towards His Majesty, might form a confidence of expecting more.  
I replied, that the King upon the matter (if we consider disgrace) had done more than themselves: for he was but once banished at Venice, and twice here; viz. once from the verge of the Court, and secondly from London; which was as much as could be done with preservation of rational immunities, and more than would have been done at the suit of of any other Ambassador here resident; or perhaps of any of their own hereafter, if the like Case shall occur. For (as I told him) it was the King's express will, that his particular respect to the republic, and to him in this business, should not be drawn into Examples. With this point he was not a little pleased, for his own glory; and said, that indeed Master Secretary Nanton had told him so. This was the sum of what passed between us, omitting impertinencies. Let me end, (my dear Lord) as I am bound, in all the use either of my pen, or of my voice, with an humble and hearty acknowledgement of my great obligations towards your Lordship, which will make me resolve, and in good faith unhappy, till I can some way show myself,  
Your lordship's most thankful, and faithful Servant, H. W.   

To the KING,  
From Augusta the 8/18 of August, 1620. May it please Your most Sacred Majesty,  
FRom this place I determined to make my first Dispatch unto Your Majesty, hoping in such Cities and Courts whereunto I had address on the way, to take up somewhat that should be considerable, and till then unwilling to entertain Your solicitous Mind with immaterial things.  
I have hitherto been with five several Princes and Communities, the Duke of Loraign, the archduke Leopoldus, the Town of Strasburg, the Duke of Wirtenberg, and the Town of Ulme, in the same order as I have set them down; among whom I spent in all twelve days, and the rest of the time in uncessant journeys, whereof I shall now render Your Majesty a full account in the substance, retrenching impertinencies.  
Unto the Duke of Loraign, I had no credential address from Your Royal hand; and yet to pass silently (like a stream through his Land) by a Prince of so near conjunction in blood with You, and interessed in the scope of my errand, as a member of the Empire, had been some incongruity. Therefore excusing (as I might justly) the want of Letters, with my purpose to have taken another way, till I heard that the French King had cleared the confines of Loraign, by drawing such Forces as lay hover there, with some hazard of Passengers, over the River of Marne towards Normandy: I say, after this excuse, I told him, I known Your Majesty would be singularly pleased to understand by me of his health; and that I had, in transitu, conferred with him Your Christian ends, wherein You could not but expect at his hands a concurrence both of Counsel and Affection. This I said, to draw civilly from him as much as I could, being a Prince cumbered (as I found him) with the Germane troubles on the one side, and the French on the other; and therefore bound to study the passages of both: especially having a State, which perhaps is harder for him to keep neutral than himself. In the rest of my discourse, I possessed him with two main heads of mine Instructions: First, with Your majesty's innocency in the Bohemian business at the beginning; next, with Your impartiality therein, even to this hour: both which did render You in this cause, the fittest Mediator of the World. And so I shut up all with this, That God had given Your Majesty two eminent blessings; the one, Peace at home, the other (which was surely the greater, and the rarer) a Soul desirous of the like abroad; which You found yourself tied in the Conscience of a Christian King to prosecute by all possible means: and therefore, though You had before in the beginning of the Bohemian Motions, sent Your good meaning by a solemn Ambassage to the Emperor, in the Person of a dear and zealous Servant of great Quality, even before any other King had entered into it, which, through the crudity of the matter, as then, took not the wished effect: yet now hoping that time itself, and the experience of vexation, had mollified the affections, and better digested the difficulties, You had not refused by several Ambassages to both sides, and to all the intervenient Princes and States, to attempt again this high and Christian Work. Thus much, though in effect extracted from Your Majesties own directions, I have here once rehearsed, to save the repetition thereof in my following Audiences at other places.  
The Duke's answer was more tender, then free, lamenting much the present condition of things, commending as much Your majesty's good mind, proclaiming his own, remitting the whole to those great and wise Kings that had it in hand, and concluding (with a voice, me thought, lower than before, as if he had doubted to be overheard, though in his private Chamber) that the Princes of the Union would tell me what his affections were in the Cause: For which I gave him thanks, commending in all events to his continual memory, that Your majesty's Daughter, my gracious Lady, and her descendants were of the blood of Loraign: Yea, said he, and the Elector likewise. This was all that passed from him of any moment. After which, he brought me to Monsieur de Vaudemont, whose principal business (as I hear) at the present, is to work the Duke's assent, and the Pope's dispensation, for a Marriage between his own Son and his brother's Daughter; a thing much affected by that People, and no doubt fomented by France, to keep so important a Province from Strangers. In the mean while de Vaudemont's Son, for improvement of his merit and fame, is bestowed in the Command of those Troops which were suffered to pass the Rhine at Brysack on Whitson-Monday last. Before I leave Loraign, I cannot but advertise Your Majesty that at Faltsbourg, a Town in the confines of that Province towards Elsatia (inhabited and built by many good men of the Religion) the Ministers came unto me, bewailing the case of the Inhabitants, who for some thirty years had possessed that place quietly, till of late by instigation of the Jesuits at Nancy, the Duke had given them warning to be gone within the term of two years, whereof some good part was expired. Their request unto me was, that by Your majesty's gracious Mediation, they might be received into a place within the Palatine Jurisdiction, near their present seat, which they offered to enlarge, and fortify at their own charge, upon the grant of reasonable immunities: which I have assumed to treat by Letter with Your majesty's son-in-law; needing no other commission from Your Majesty in things of this nature, than Your own goodness.  
The archduke Leopald, I was forced to seek three days journey from his ordinary seat; where, being at his private sports of the field, and no fit things about him, he desired me to turn back half 〈◊〉 days journey to Mulzham, the notorious nest of Jesuits: commanding the Governors of his Towns, in the mean time, to use me with all due respects; among whom he made choice of an Italian, by name Ascanio Albertine, (a man of singular confidence with him, and surely of very fair conditions) to sound me, though in a merry fashion, and half laughing, (as there was good cause) how I would taste it, if he should receive me in the Jesuits college: for at Mulzham those were his Hosts, being destitute of other habitation. I answered him, as merrily as it was propounded, that I knew the Jesuits had every where the best rooms, more splendent than true, fit to lodge Princes then Monks; and that their habitations were always better than themselves. Moreover, that for mine own part, though I was not much afraid of their infection; and that Saint Paul did not refuse to be carried in a Ship, which was consecrated to false Gods; yet because on our side they were generally, and (no doubt) justly reputed the true causes of all the troubles of the Christian World, I doubted it would be a scandalous Reception; and that besides, those Artificers would go near to make appear on my part, a kind of silent approbation of their Order and course. This was my answer, which being faithfully transported by the Italian, the archduke made choice of another mean house in the Town, where he received me truly in a noble sweet fashion: to whom having presented Your majesty's Letters, and Love, he disposed himself with sharp attention to hear me. To him, besides that which I had said to the Duke of Loraign, I added two things:  
The first, that not only Your Majesty was clear of all foreknowledge, or counsel, in the business of Bohemia; but likewise Your Son-in-law himself of any precedent practice therein, till it was laid upon him, as You knew by his own high affirmations, and most infallible testimonies.  
The second, that though Your Majesty to this hour did continue as equal betwixt both parties, as the Equinoctial between the Poles, yet about the time of my departure You were much moved, and the whole Land likewise, with a voice, I know not how spread abroad, that there were great preparations to invade the Nether Palatinate; which if it did fall out, Your Majesty should have just reason to think Your Moderation unthankfully requited; the said Palatinate being the Patrimonial Lands of Your own descendants, and no way connexed with the Bohemian Business. Whereupon I persuaded him fairly, in Your majesty's Name, being a Personage of such authority in the present actions, to keep them from any such precipitious and impertinent rapture as might preclude all Mediation of Accord: and because Your Majesty had now, which was a second Argument of Your equity, sent several Ambassadors to the Fountains, for Your better information in the merit of the Cause, by Your own Instruments, I besought him to illuminate me, who was the weakest of Your Creatures, as far as he should think fit, and to assist me with his best advice towards this good end, whereunto, besides the dear Commandment of the King my Master, I would confer mine own plain and honest zeal.  
His answer, to all the points, which he had very orderly laid up, was this: Of Your Majesties own clearness he professed much assurance; of Your Son-in-law as much doubt, charging him both with close practice with the Bohemians at the time of the Emperor's Election at Francfort, and more foully with a new practice, either by himself or by others, to introduce the Turk into Hungary. Of any design upon the Lower Palatinate, he utterly disavowed all knowledge on his part; yet would not deny, but the marquis Spinola might perchance have some such aim; and if things went on, as they do, men would no doubt assail their enemies wheresoever they should find them. In such ambiguous clouds as these, he wrapped this point. Of the Emperor's inclination to an agreement, he bade me be very assured; but never without restitution of the usurped Kingdom, which was not a loss of easy concoction, especially being taken from him by the Count Palatine his Subject, as he often called him; and once added, that he thought he would not deny it himself. Of the merit of the cause, he said he had sent divers records and papers to the Emperor, where I should find them.  
Lastly, he acknowledged himself much bound unto Your Majesty for the honour You had done him, to take such knowledge of his Person, and was contented to bestow some thanks upon me for mine honest inclination, which he would present, before my arrival, at Vienna. I had almost omitted a point touched by him, that he had knowledge of some English Levies coming toward the Palatinate: About which I cleared him, with confessing that Your majesty's People, and some of Your principal Nobility, had taken Alarm upon a voice of an Invasion there, and meant voluntarily to sacrifice themselves in that action; but without any concurrence of Your Majesty thereunto, either by money or command. To which he replied, that in truth so he had heard, and made no question of Your Royal Integrity. In the afternoon of this day, he took me abroad with him in his Coach, to show me some of his nearer Towns and Fortifications; and there descended into many familiarities, and amongst other, to show us how to make Frogs leap at their own skins: a strange purchase, me thought, at a time when Kingdoms are in question: But it may be it was an Art to cover his weightier Meditations.  
Amongst other discourse, there was some mention of Your majesty's Treaty with Spain, in point of Alliance; which I told him, was a concluded business: for that warrant I had from Your own Royal mouth in Your Gallery at Theobalds', having let fall none of Your syllables. Whereupon he said, That he did not despair upon so good an occasion, to salute Your Majesty in Your own Court. The morning following, he sent unto me Signior Ascanio, with express desire, that since Your majesty's intentions were so clear, I would as frankly acquaint him, whether in mine Instructions I had any particular form of accord to project unto the Emperor: which himself likewise at my second Audience did somewhat importunely press, excusing his curiosity with a good meaning, to prepare the Emperor, in as good manner as he could, to accept it. My answer was, that Your Majesty thought it first necessary on both sides to dispose the affections, and then by reciprocal Intelligence between Your Servants, from Vienna and Prague, to collect some measure of Agreement; for otherwise, if we should find both Parties fixed in extreme resolutions, it were a folly to spend any further the Honour of our Master. Here again he told me, that I should find the Emperor peswasible enough, if his Reputation may be saved: and for his own part, he thought that the Count Palatine, being the Inferior, might yield without prejudice of his. To terms of this height he revolved, and of the same complexion are his Letters to Your Majesty, that I send herewith, of which I must needs say, that in some part, Olent Patrem Henricum, so they call a Jesuit of inward credit with him. Always true it is, that they were couched in the college, for his Secretaries were absent, as the Italian told me, at his ordinary place of residence. At my leave-taking, he spoke with much reverence of Your Majesty, with much praise of Your Christian mind, and with much thankfulness of the Honour You had done him. He is a Prince of good stature, of fair complexion, inclining to fullness: His face, the very best, as they tell me of the House of Austria; and better indeed than his fashion. No curiosity in his clothing, no affectation in his discourse; extreme affable, both to strangers, and among his own: Patient of labour, and delighting in motion. In sum, little of a Bishop, save the bishopric and a long Coat; with which short character of his Person, I have taken the boldness to end, being (as I conceive it) the duty of Servants to represent unto their Masters the Images of those (with whom they treat) and as well their natural as artificial Impressions.  
Of Strasburg and Ulm, I may speak conjunctively, being of one nature; both free, and both jealous of their freedom, which makes them fortify apace. Towards me likewise they joined in one point of good respect, namely, in not suffering me to come to their Senate-house, but in treating with me where I was lodged by the deputed Persons, out of the reverence (as they professed) due to Your Majesty, who had done them so much honour with Your Letters, and with communication of Your ends by Your humble Servant. They both commended Your majesty's Christian intentions, and professed themselves hitherto in the same Neutrality; but because it were uncivil for them to contribute their Counsels, where such Kings did employ their Wisdom and Authority, they would only contribute their Prayers, with the like temperate conceits as these, appearing likewise in their Letters, which I send by this Bearer.  
Into the Duke of Wirtenberg's Court I was received very nobly, and kindly feasted at his Table, with the Princess, and other great Ladies, and most part of the day lead by himself, to view his Gardens, Buildings, and other Delights.  
The material points collected here, I must divide partly into my discourse with himself, and partly into such knowledge as he commanded Monsieur Buvinckhousen to give me, which cometh in a Paper apart, being very material.  
In his own Speech, he made great profession towards Your Majesty, wherein no Prince of the Empire should exceed him; and as much toward the King of Bohemia, as he ever called Your Son-in-law: of whose clearness from all precedent practice, when I fell to speak, he told me, that in that point he would ease me; for himself visiting the Elector, a little after he was chosen, he found him extremely perplexed, even to effusion of tears, between these two considerations, That if he accepted the offer, the World would falsely conceive it to have sprung from his Ambition; if he refused it, that People was likely to fall into desperate Counsels, with danger of calling more than Christian help. In the rest of his discourse, I was glad to hear him often vow, that he would defend the Palatinate with all his power, being tied thereunto not only by the Bond of Confederacy, but likewise by Reason of State, not to suffer a Stranger to neighbour him.  
I have now ended for the present Your majesty's trouble. There remain of my Commission, the Duke of Bavaria, and the Emperor. The Duke of Bavaria I shall find actually in arms about Lintz, in the upper Austria, and the Emperor at Vienna: from both places I will make several Dispatches unto Your Majesty, and afterwards weekly, or more frequently, as the occasion shall rise. Let this in the mean time end in my humble thanks to Almighty God for the repose of Your own Estates, and in my hearty Prayers for the preservation of Your dear and sacred Person.   

Octob. 1620. Right Honourable,  
OF my purpose to departed from Vienna, and to leave the Emperor to the Counsels of his own Fortune, I gave his Majesty knowledge by my servant James Vary.  
I will now make you a summary account of what hath happened here, which is to be done both out of Duty to your Place, and out of Obligation to your Friendship.  
The Count Tampier had some twelve days since taken from the Hungarians by surprisal in the Field, thirteen Cornets of Horse, and one Ensign of Foot, which here with much ostentation were carried up and down, and laid on Sunday was seven-night under the Emperor's feet, as he came from the chapel.  
Some note, that the vanity of this triumph was greater than the merit; for the Hungarians by their ordinary discipline, abound in Cornets, bearing one almost for every twenty Horse, so as Flags are good cheap amongst them, and but slightly guarded: Howsoever the matter be made more or less, according to the wits on both sides, this was brave gaudium, and itself indeed some cause of the following disaster; For the Count Tampier, being by nature an enterprising man, was now also inflamed by accident; which made him immediately conceive the surprisal of Presburg, while the Prince of Transilvania was retired to the siege of Guns, some six or seven Leagues distant. A project in truth, if it had prospered, of notorious utility.  
First by the very reputation of the Place, being the Capital Town of Hungaria.  
Next, the access to Comar and Rab, (which places only the Emperor retaineth in that kingdom of any considerable value) had been freed by water, which now in a manner are blocked up.  
Thirdly, the incursions into these Provinces, and ignominious depredations had been cut off.  
And lastly, the Crown of Hungaria had been recovered, which the Emperor Mathias did transport to the Castle of Presburg, after the deposition of Rodolph his Brother, who always kept it in the Castle of Prague; which men account one of the subtle things of that retired Emperor, as I hear by discourse. So as upon these considerations, the enterprise was more commendable in the design, than it will appear in the execution; being thus carried.  
From hence to Presburg is in this month of October an easy night's journey by water. Thither on Thursday night of the last week, Tampier himself, accompanied with some four or five Colonels, and other remarkable men of this Court, resolves to bring down in 25 Boats, about 3000 Foot, or such a matter; having given order, and space enough before, for certain Horse, partly Dutch, and partly Polonians, to be there, and to attend his coming about two hours before Friday morning. And to shadow this purpose, himself on Thursday in the afternoon, with affected noise goes up the River the contrary way, though no reasonable imaginations could conceive whither; for the lower Austria was then all reduced. By which Artificial delay, and by some natural stops in the shallows of the water, when they fell silently down again, it was three or four hours of clear day before he arrived at Presburg the next morning: Where his meaning was, first to destroy the Bridge built upon Boats, and thereby to keep Bethlehem Gabor, (as then on the Austrian side) not only from succouring the Town, but from all possibility of repassing the Danuby nearer than Buda. Next, to apply the Petard to one of the Gates of the citadel. Some say, he had likewise inward intelligence, that at his approach, the Wicket of the Castle should be opened unto him by one Palfy an Hungarian Gentleman; which conceit, though perchance raised at first to animate the soldier, yet hath gotten much credit, by seeing the enterprise against all discourse continued by daylight. Be that point how it will, his fatal hour was come: for approaching a sconce that lies by the Castle-gate, and turning about to cry for his men to come on, he was shot in the lowest part of his Skull nearest his Neck, after which he spoke no syllable, as Don Carolo d' Austria (second base Son to Rodolph the Emperor, and himself at that time saved by the goodness of his Armour) doth testify. After which, some two or three soldiers attempting to bring away his Body, and those being shot, the rest gave it over, and the whole Troops transported themselves to the other side, leaving the Boats behind them, as if they had meant to contribute new provision for the mending of the Bridge, whereof they had only broken one little piece.  
This was the end of the Count Tampier; By his father's side a Norman, by his Mothers a champagne, a servant twenty two years to the House of Austria. Himself Captain of a thousand Horse: but Commander divers times in chief, especially before the coming of the Count Bucquoy, from whom he was severed to these nearer Services, being of incompatible natures: a valiant, and plotting soldier; In Encounters more fortunate than Sieges; Gracious to his own, and terrible to the Hungarians. To the present Emperor most dear, though perchance, as much for Civil, as Military Merit: for this was the very man that first seized upon the Cardinal Clesel, when he was put into a Coach, and transported hence to Tirol: So as now we may expect some Pamphlet the next Mart from Ingolstat, or Colen; That no man can end well, who hath laid violent hands upon any of those Roman Purpurati.  
To this point, I must add two remarkable Circumstances; The first, that Tampier, among other Papers found in his Pockets, is said to have had a Memorial of certain Conditions, whereon it should be fit to insist in his Parley with the Town, as having already swallowed the Castle. The other, that his Head having been cut off by a soldier, and sold for five Dollars to another, who meant to have the merit of presenting it to the Prince, the Presenter was rewarded with a stroke of a Sable, for insulting over the dead carcase of a Gentleman of Honour.   

Lord Bacon to Sir Henry Wotton.  
My very good Cousin,  
YOur Letter which I received from your Lordship upon your going to Sea, was more than a compensation for any former omission; and I shall be very glad to entertain a correspondence with you in both kinds, which you writ of: for the latter whereof I am now ready for you, having sent you some Ure of that Mine. I thank you for your Favours to Mr. Mewtus, and I pray continue the same. So wishing you out of that honourable Exile, and placed in a better Orb, I ever rest,  
York-house Octob. 20. 1620. Your lordship's affectionate Kinsman and assured Friend, Fr. Verulam Canc.   

Sir Henry Wotton to Lord Bacon.  
Right Honourable, and my very good Lord,  
I Have your lordship's Letters dated the 20th. of October, and I have withal by the care of my Cousin Mr. Thomas Meawtis, and by your own special favour, three Copies of that Work, wherewith your Lordship hath done a great and everliving benefit to all the children of Nature; and to Nature herself, in her uttermost extent and latitude: who never before had so noble nor so true an Interpreter, or (as I am readier to style your Lordship) never so inward a Secretary of her Cabinet: But of your said Work (which came but this Week to my hands) I shall find occasion to speak more hereafter; having yet read only the first Book thereof, and a few aphorisms of the second. For it is not a Banquet, that men may superficially taste, and put up the rest in their Pockets; but in truth, a solid feast, which requireth due mastication. Therefore when I have once myself perused the whole, I determine to have it read piece by piece at certain hours in my domestic college, as an ancient Author: For I have learned thus much by it already, that we are extremely mistaken in the computation of Antiquity, by searching it backwards, because indeed the first times were the youngest; especially in points of natural discovery and experience. For though I grant, that Adam knew the natures of all Beasts, and Solomon of all Plants, not only more than any, but more than all since their time; Yet that was by divine infusion, and therefore they did not need any such Organum as your Lordship hath now delivered to the world; nor we neither, if they had left us the memories of their wisdom.  
But I am gone further than I meant in speaking of this excellent Labour, while the delight yet I feel, and even the pride that I take in a certain Congeniality (as I may term it) with your lordship's studies, will scant let me cease: And indeed I own your Lordship even by promise (which you are pleased to remember, thereby doubly binding me) some trouble this way; I mean, by the commerce of Philosophical Experiments, which surely, of all other, is the most ingenuous traffic: Therefore, for a beginning, let me tell your Lordship a pretty thing which I saw coming down the Danuby, though more remarkable for the Application, then for the Theory. I lay a night at Lintz, the Metropolis of the higher Austria; but then in very low estate, having been newly taken by the Duke of Bavaria: who, blandiente fortunà, was gone on to the late effects: There I found Keplar, a man famous in the Sciences, as your Lordship knows, to whom I purpose to convey from hence one of your Books, that he may see we have some of our own that can honour our King, as well as he hath done with his Harmanica. In this man's study I was much taken with the draught of a landscape on a piece of paper, me thoughts masterly done: whereof enquiring the Author, he bewrayed with a smile, it was himself; adding, he had done it, Non tanquam Pictor, sed tanquam Methematicus. This set me on fire: At last he told me how. He hath a little black Tent, (of what stuff is not much importing) which he can suddenly set up where he will in a Field, and it is convertible (like a windmill) to all quarters at pleasure, capable of not much more than one man, as I conceive, and perhaps at no great ease; exactly close and dark, save at one hole, about an inch and a half in the Diameter, to which he applies a long perspective Trunk, with the convex-glass fitted to the said hole, and the concave taken out at the other end, which extendeth to about the middle of this erected Tent, through which the visible radiations of all the objects without, are intromitted, falling upon a paper, which is accommodated to receive them, and so he traceth them with his pen in their natural appearance, turning his little Tent round by degrees, till he hath designed the whole Aspect of the Field. This I have described to your Lordship, because I think there might be good use made of it for Chorography: for otherwise, to make landscapes by it were illiberal; though surely no Painter can do them so precisely. Now from these artificial and natural curiosities, let me a little direct your Lordship to the contemplation of Fortune.  
Here, by a sleight Battel full of miserable errors (if I had leisure to set them down) all is reduced, or near the point. In the Provinces there is nothing but of fluctuation and submission, the ordinary consequences of Victory; wherein the triumphs of the Field do not so much vex my soul, as the triumphs of the Pulpit: For what noise will now the Jesuit disseminate more in every corner, then victrix causa Deo placuit; which yet was but the Gospel of a Poet: No, my Lord, when I revolve what great things Zisca did in the first troubles of his country, that were grounded upon conscience, I am tempted to believe the Alldistinguishing eye hath been more displeased with some humane affections in this business, then with the business itself.  
I am now preparing my departing toward my other employment, for in my first Instructions I had a power to go hence, when this controversy should be decided, either by Treaty, or by Fortune; whereof now the worse means have perverted the better.  
Here I leave the French Ambassadors upon the Stage, as I found them; being willing (quod solum superest) to deal between the Emperor and Bethlehem Gabor, with whom I have nothing to do as he is now singled.  
Betwixt this and Italy I purpose to collect the memorablest Observations that I have taken of this great Affair, and to present a Copy thereof unto your lordship's indulgent, not to your severe judgement.  
The present I cannot end (though I have too much usurped upon your precious time) without the return of my humble thanks unto your Lordship, for the kind remembrance of my Cousin Mr. John Meawtis in your Letter to me, and of your recommendation of him before; being a Gentleman, in truth of sweet conditions and strong abilities: I shall now transport him over the Alps, where we will both serve your Lordship, and love one another. And so beseeching God to bless your Lordship with long life and honour, I humbly rest,  
Your Lordships,   

Right Honourable,  
OF my appearing to this State, and of my reception here, I gave your Lordship notice by my former Letters.  
The Counsels of this State I find to be calm; for the new Pope hath assured them, He will keep storms out of Italy.  
True it is, that he hath bravely denied already passage to the Neapolitan Cavalry and Infantry, through the Ecclesiastical State, though instantly pressed by the Spanish Ambassador; in which Humour, if he shall persevere without warping, we shall think him here a well-seasoned piece of Timber.  
We hear of an Ambassador from Savoy on his way to you; C. C. a plain Instrument from a subtle Prince, and therefore the more proper to deceive us, and to be first deceived himself. The business I shall need not to tell you, nor indeed can I say much of the hope of it.  
How we stand here, will appear by the two enclosed Copies.  
— But for those things I shall give his Majesty continual advertisement, as time shall change the prospect of this theatre, whereon I am placed.  
So with all my duties remembered, as well those of Thankfulness, as those of Affection, I will subscribe myself, as truly I am,  
Your Lordships, etc.  
POSTSCRIPT.  
This very Morning, which is the Nuncio's ordinary day of Audience, He hath surprised the Duke and Senators with presentation of a jubilee unto them from his Master. Some discourse, that it is to gain Fame and Favour by an indulgent Beginning.   

To the marquis of Buckingham.  
Right Honourable, and my very good Lord,  
I Know your Lordship cannot want Presents of the best kind from all countries, if you would be but pleased to bewray your Desire: For your Favour is worthy to be studied, both because you are powerful, and because in the common judgement (of which we hear the sound, that are far off) you employ your power nobly.  
For my part, though I am not able to reach unto any thing proportionable to your Dignity, nor even to mine own mind; yet I must not suffer Venice (where I have served the King so long) to be wholly disgraced. And therefore I have taken the boldness in a Ship newly departed from this Harbour, to send your Lordship two Boxes of poor things: which because they need a little explication, not so much for their value, as their use, I have desired Mr. Nicholas Pey, one of the Clerks of his majesty's kitchen, who is my friend of trust at home in all my occasions, to acquaint your Lordship with a note of them. Wherein my end is plain, only to excite your Lordship with this little taste, to command me further in whatsoever may better please you. And so I most humbly commit you to Gods blessed Love.  
Venice, this 16. of May. Your Lordships with all devotion to serve you, H. Wotton.   

To the Lord Keeper Williams, (ut videtur) 1621/2.  
Right Reverend, and Right Honourable, my very good Lord,  
HAving not yet passed with your good Lordship so much as the common duty of Congratulation, (to whom I am so obliged, both for your love to my dearest Nephew, and for your gracious remembrances of mine own poor Name) I thought it even a particular duty to myself, to acquaint your lordship's Secretary, my ancient and worthy Friend, with the Story of mine own evils, that your Lordship may know my silence to have been, as I may well term it, a symptom of my infirmity.  
I am now strong again to serve your Lordship, and I know that I have a Friend of trust at home (it is honest Nicholas Pey that I mean) who hath often leave, by your Favour to wait upon you. Therefore I could wish, if this place (where I am grown almost a free Denison) may yield any thing for your use or delight, that you would be pleased either to acquaint me by my said Friend plainly (which shall be a new obligation) with your Commands, or at least to let him mark your Desires. Now in the mean time, because I know that I can do your Lordship no greater Service, then to give you occasion of exercising your own goodness. I will take the freedom most humbly and hearty to recommend unto your charitable and honourable affections, a very worthy Person, whose fortune is no better at the present, then to be my Chaplain; though we are, or at least ought all to be the better by his virtuous example, and our time the better spent by his learned conversation. I shall, I think, not need to name him to your Lordship, and as little to insist either upon his moral or intellectual merit. Therefore I will so leave it, and commit him to your gracious Memory, upon some good occasion that God may lay before you. And now I would end, but that I conceive it a duty to tell your Lordship first, how we stand here at this date. For Ambassadors (in our old Kentish Language) are but Spies of the time.  
We are studying how we may safely and cheaply countenance the new Motions of the garrisons, with an Army on our own Borders pointing that way; which even Reason of State requireth, when our Neighbours are stirring. And therefore yet the King of Spain can take no scandal at a common wisdom. If the Successes shall go forward according to the beginnings, Prosperity, peradventure, may invite us, further to the Feast. For my part, if they would have tasted my Counsels, they had been long since engaged, both within and without Italy. But I dig in a Rock of Diamonds. And so concluding with my hearty Congratulations for your lordship's Promotions, both Spiritual and Civil, and with my prayers for your long enjoyment of them, I will unfaignedly subscribe myself,  
Your good Lordships devoted to serve you, H. W.   

SIR,  
HAving not long written unto you, whose Friendship towards me hath given you a great interest in me; I send you a Report of a late Transaction, even for a little entertainment, lest you should think me to live without observation.  
For that the Case of the late Cavalier Antonio Foscarini hath been diversely misreported, and perhaps not the least, even by those that were his Judges, to cover their own disgrace, I have thought a little curiosity not ill spent in research of the whole Proceeding, that his Majesty (to whom he was so well known) may have a more due information of this rare and unfortunate example. There is among the partitions of this Government a very awful Magistracy under Title of Inquisitori di Stato; to which are commonly deputed three Gentlemen of the gravest and severest natures, who receive all secret Delations in matter of practice against the republic, and then refer the same, as they shall judge the consequence thereof, to the Decemviral council, being the supremest Tribunal in criminal inquiries; of which Body they are usually themselves.  
To these Inquisitors, about the beginning of April last, came two Fellows of mean condition, born about the Lago di Garda, but Inhabitants in Venice, by name Girolamo and Domenico Vani; as some say, Uncle and Nephew: certainly near of kindred, which in this report is a weighty circumstance; for thereby they were the likelier to conspire, and consequently their united testimonies of the less validity. These Persons capitulate with the Inquisitors of that time (whose names may be civilly spared) about a reward (which is usual) for the discovery of some Gentlemen, which at undue times, and in disguised Forms, did haunt the Houses of foreign Ministers, and in particular, of the Spanish Agent: who being the most obnoxious to public jealousy, these Accusers were likeliest upon that Subject to gain a favourable hearing. In the head of their secret List, they nominate Anthonio Foscarini, than an actual Senator, and thereby upon pain of death restrained from all conference in this ombragious State with public Instruments, unless by special permission. To verify their discovery, besides their own testimonies, they allege one Giovan Battista, who served the foresaid Spanish Agent, and had, as they said, acquainted them with the accesses of such and such Gentlemen unto him. But first they wished, or so the Inquisitors thought fit, to proceed against Foscarini, upon this double attestation, without examining the foresaid Giovan Battista; because that would stir some noise, and then perhaps those other, whom they meant to delate, might take fear and escape: Hereupon Foscarini, coming from the next Senate at night down the Palace, was by order of the Inquisitors suddenly muffled, and so put in close Prison, and after usual examinations, his own single denial being not receivable against two agreeing Informers, he was by sentence at the council of Ten, some fifteen days after his retention, strangled in Prison, and on the 21. of the foresaid April, was hanged by one leg on a Gallows in the public Piazza, from break of day till sunset, with all imaginable circumstances of infamy: his very face having been bruised by dragging on the ground, though some did construe that for a kind of favour, that he might be the less known.  
After this the same Artificers pursue their occupation, now animated with success; and next they name Marco Miani. But one of the Inquisitors, either by nature more advised than the rest, or intenerated with that which was already done, would by no means proceed any farther, without a pre-examination of the foresaid Giovan Battista: which now might the more conveniently, and the more silently be taken, because he had left the house of the Spanish Agent, and was married in the Town to a goldsmith's Daughter. To make short, they draw this man to a secret account; where he doth not only disavow the having ever seen any Gentleman in the Spanish Agents house, but likewise all such interest as the Accusers did pretend to have in his acquaintance, having never spoken with any of them, but only three words by chance with the elder, namely Girolamo, upon the Piazza di St. Stephano. Hereupon the Inquisitors confronted him with the Accusers; they confess without any torture their malicious Plot, and had sentence to be hanged, as was afterwards done. But now the voice running of this detection, the Nephews of the executed Cavalier, namely Nicolo and Girolamo Foscarini, make haste to present a Petition (in all opinion most equitable) to the Decemviral Tribunal, That the false Accusers of the abovesaid Marco Miani, might be reexamined likewise about their Uncle. The Counsel of Ten, upon this Petition, did assemble early in the morning, which had not been done in long time before; and there they put to voices, Whether the Nephews should be satisfied?  
In the first Ballotation, the Balls were equal: in the second, there was one Ball more (as they say) in the negative Box: Either because the false Witnesses, being now condemned men, were disabled by course of Law to give any farther testimony, or for that the council of Ten thought it wisdom to smother an irrevocable error. The Petition being denied, no possible way remained for the Nephews to clear the defamation of their Uncle (which in the rigour of this Government, had been likewise a stop to their own Fortunes) but by means of the Confessor, to whom the Delinquents should disburden their souls before their death; and by him, at importunity of the said Nephews, the matter was revealed: Whereupon did ensue a solemn Declaration of the council of Ten, touching the innocency of the foresaid A●…thonio Foscarini, eight months and twenty five days after his death. Whether in this case there were any mixture of private passion, or that perhaps some light humours, to which the Party was subject, together with the taint of his former Imprisonment, might precipitate the credulity of the Judges, I dare not dispute: But surely in 312. years that the Decemviral Tribunal hath stood, there was never cast upon it a greater blemish; which being so high a Piece, and on the reputation of whose grave and indubitable proceed the regiment of manners hath most depended, is likely to breed no good consequence upon the whole. Since the foresaid Declaration, the Nephews have removed the body of their Uncle from a place where condemned Persons are of custom interred, to the Monument of their Ancestors in another Temple, and would have given it a solemn Burial: But having been kept (though rather by dissuasion then prohibition) from increasing thereby the public Scandal, they now determine to repair his fame with an Epitaph, the last of miserable remedies. It is said, that at the removing of his body, his heart was found whole: which kind of conceits are easily entertained in this Country, and scant any notable case without some superstitious adjunct. It is said likewise, that by Testament he did appoint a great sum for him that should discover his innocency: which receiving from credible Authors, I was willing not to omit; because it argueth, that notwithstanding some outward lightness, he was composed of generous Elements. Certain it is, that he left divers Legacies to the best Patriots, as now appeareth not artificially. But here I may breed a question, with which I will end this report: How a man in his case could dispose of his Fortune? I must answer, That in the composition of this State Confiscations are rare, be the Crime never so high, unless in case of interverting the public Money; which the Delinquent is commonly condemned to repair, not so much in the quality of a Traitor, as of a Debtor. Whereof searching the reason, I find this to be the most immediate; That if in a Dominion merely managed by their own Gentry, they should punish them as much in their means, as in their persons, it would in conclusion prove a punishment, not of particulars, but of the general: For it is a rule here, that the poorest Families are the losest.   

To the DUKE.  
My most honoured Lord and Patron,  
THese poor lines will be presented unto your Lordship by my Nephew (one of your obliged Servants) and withal some description, as I have prayed him, of my long infirmities, which have cast me behind in many private, and often interrupted even my public duties; with which yet I do rather seek to excuse some other defects of service, than my silence towards your Lordship. For to importune your Lordship seldom with my Pen is a choice in me, and not a disease, having resolved to live, at what distance soever from your sight, like one who had well studied before I came hither, how secure they are whom you once vouchsafe any part of your love.  
And indeed, I am well confirmed therein by your own gracious lines: for thereby I see that your Lordship had me in your meditation, when I scant remembered myself. In answer of which Letter, after some respite from mine own evils, I have deputed my said Nephew to redeliver my fortune into your Noble hands, and to assure your Lordship, that as it should be cheerfully spent at your command, if it were present and actual, (from whose meditation I have derived it) so much more am I bound to yield up unto your Lordship an absolute disposition of my hopes: But if it shall please you therein to grant me any part of mine own humour, than I would rather wish some other satisfaction then exchange of office; yet even in this point likewise I shall depend on your will, which your Lordship may indeed challenge from me, not only by an humble gratitude, and reverence due to your most worthy Person; but even by that natural charity and discretion which I own myself: for what do I more therein, then only remit to your own arbitrement the valuation of your own goodness? I have likewise committed to my foresaid Nephew some Memorials touching your lordship's familear service (as I may term it) in matter of art and delight. But though I have laid these offices upon another, yet I joy with mine own Pen to give your Lordship an account of a Gentleman, worthier of your love, than I was of the honour to receive him from you. We are now, after his well-spent travels in the Towns of purer Language, married again till a second divorce; for which I shall be sorry, whensoever it shall happen. For in truth (my good Lord) his conversation is both delightful and fruitful; and I dare pronounce, that he will return to his Friends as well fraught with the best Observations, as any that hath ever sifted this Country; which indeed doth need sifting, for there is both Flower and Bran in it. He hath divided his abode between Sienna and Rome: the rest of his time was for the most part spent in motion. I think his purpose be to take the French Tongue in his way homewards, but I am persuading with him to make Brussels his seat, both because the French and Spanish Languages are familiar there; whereof the one will be after Italian a sport unto him, so as he may make the other a labour: And for that the said Town is now the Scene of an important Treaty, which I fear will last till he come thither; but far be from me all ominous conceit. I will end with cheerful thoughts and wishes; beseeching the Almighty God to preserve your Lordship in health, and to cure the public diseases. And so I ever remain  
Venice, July 29. 1622. Your lordship's most devoted and obliged Servant, H. WOTTON.   

To the DUKE.  
My most honoured and dear Lord,  
TO give your Lordship occasion to exercise your noble Nature, is withal one of the best exercises of mine own duty; and therefore. I am confident to pass a very charitable motion through your lordship's hands and mediation to his Majesty.  
There hath long lain in the Prison of Inquisition, a constant worthy Gentleman, viz. Master Mole: in whom his Majesty hath not only a right as his Subject, but likewise a particular interest in the Cause of his first imprisonment: For having communicated his majesty's immortal work, touching the Allegiance due unto sovereign Princes, with a Florentine of his familiar acquaintance, this man took such impression at some passages, as troubling his Conscience, he took occasion at the next shrift, to confer certain doubts with his Confessor; who out of malicious curiosity, enquiring all circumstances, gave afterwards notice thereof to Rome, whither the said Mole was gone with my Lord Ross; who in this story is not without blame: but I will not disquiet his Grave,  
Now having lately heard that his Majesty, at the suit of I know not what Ambassadors, (but the Florentine amongst them is voiced for one) was pleased to yield some releasement to certain restrained Persons of the Roman Faith; I have taken a conceit upon it, that in exchange of his Clemency therein, the great Duke would be easily moved, by the King's gracious request, to interceded with the Pope for Master Mole's delivery: To which purpose, if it shall please his Majesty to grant his Royal Letters, I will see the business duly pursued. And so needing no arguments to commend this proposition to his majesty's goodness, but his goodness itself, I leave it (as I began) in your Noble hand. Now touching your lordship's familiar service, (as I may term it) I have sent the compliment of your bargain, upon the best provided, and best manned Ship that hath been here in long time, called the Phoenix. And indeed the cause of their long stay, hath been for some such Vessel as I might trust. About which, since I wrote last to your Lordship, I resolved to fall back to my first choice: so as now the one Piece is the work of Titian, wherein the least Figure (viz. the Child in the virgin's lap playing with a Bird) is alone worth the price of your expense for all four, being so round, that I know not whether I shall call it a Piece of Sculpture, or Picture: and so lively, that a man would be tempted to doubt, whether Nature or Art had made it. The other is of Palma, and this I call the speaking Piece, as your Lordship will say it may well be termed; for except the Damsel brought to David, whom a silent modesty did best become, all the other Figures are in discourse and action. They come both distended in their Frames: for I durst not hazard them in Rowls, the youngest being 25 years old, and therefore no longer supple and pliant. With them I have been bold to send a Dish of Grapes to your Noble Sister, the Countess of Denbigh, presenting them first to your lordship's view, that you may be pleased to pass your censure, whether Italians can make Fruits as well as Flemings, which is the common glory of their pencils. By this Gentleman, I have sent the choicest Molon seeds of all kinds, which his Majesty doth expect, as I had Order both from my Lord of Holderness, and from Mr. Secretary Calvert. And although in my Letter to his Majesty (which I hope by your lordship's favour, himself shall have the honour to deliver, together with the said Seeds) I have done him right in his due Attributes; yet let me say of him farther, as Architects use to speak of a well chosen foundation, that your Lordship may boldly build what Fortune you please upon him, for surely, he will bear it virtuously. I have committed to him for the last place, a private Memorial touching myself, wherein I shall humbly beg your lordship's intercession upon a necessary Motive. And so with my heartiest prayers to Heaven for your continual health and happiness, I most humbly rest,  
Venice, Dec. 2/12 1622. Your Lordships ever obliged, devoted Servant, H. W.  
POSTSCRIPT.  
My Noble Lord,  
It is one of my duties to tell your Lordship, that I have sent a servant of mine (by Profession a Painter) to make a search in the best Towns through Italy, for some principal Pieces, which I hope may produce somewhat for your● Lord ships contentment and service.   

To the Earl of Holderness, 1622/3;.  
Right Honourable, and my very good Lord,  
IN a late Letter from your Lordship by my Servant, I have, besides your own Favours, the Honour of employment from the King, in a piece of his Delight: which doth so consort with the opportunity of my Charge here, that it hath given me acquaintance with some excellent Florists, (as they are styled;) and likewise with mine own disposition, who have ever thought the greatest pleasure to consist in the simplest Ornaments and Elegancies of Nature; as nothing could fall upon me more happily. Therefore your Lordship shall see how I will endeavour to satisfy this Command. I had before Order by Mr. Secretary Calvert, to send his Majesty some of the best Melon-seeds of all kinds; which I have done some Weeks since, by other occasion of an express Messenger; and sent withal a very particular Instruction in the Culture of that Plant. By the present Bearer I do direct unto your Lordship, through the hands either of my Nephew, or Mr. Nicholas Pey (as either of them shall be readiest at London) for some beginning in this kind of Service, the Stem of a double Yellow Rose, of no ordinary nature; For it flowereth every month (unless change of the Clime do change the property) from May, till almost Christmas. There hath gone such care in the manner of the Conveyance, as, if at the receiving, it be presently put into the earth, I hope it will prosper. By the next commodity I shall send his Majesty some of the rarest Seeds.  
Now for mine own Obligations unto your Lordship, (whereof I have from some Friends at home very abundant knowledge) What shall I say? It was in truth (my Lord) an argument of your noble Nature, to take my fortune into your Care, who never yet made it any great part of mine own business. I am a poor Student in Philosophy, which hath redeemed me not only from the envying of others, but even from much solicitude about myself. It is true, that my most Gracious Master hath put me into civil practice, and now after long Service, I grow into a little danger of wishing I were worth somewhat: But in this likewise I do quiet my thoughts: For I see by your Lordships so free, and so undeserved estimation of me, that like the cripple, who had lain long in the Pool of Bethesda, I shall find some body that will throw me into the water when i●… moveth. I will end with my humble and hearty thanks for your Favour, and Love.   

To the PRINCE.  
May it please Your Highness,  
BEside that which I have now represented unto your Highness, by my 〈◊〉 to your worthy Secretary, I must 〈◊〉▪ crave leave herein to be delivered o●…▪ 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 wherewith my Pen is in travel.  
I have observed in your Highness, among other noble Endowments of your Mind, a quick and delightful apprehension of the fundamental Causes of all Secrets, both natural and artificial, that have been brought to your View; which surely is the highest pleasure of a discursive Soul. Now of this part of your highness' delectation, I am serious to take hold. For having been a long Lover of Philosophy, and from the contemplative Part, being slid into the practical; I shall hope for pardon, if I take so much freedom from the ingenuity of mine own Nature, and Studies, as to entertain your Highness now and then, with some Experiments, especially such as do not end in wonder, but reach to public Use●…: For mere Speculations have ever seemed to my conceit, as if Reason were given us like an half Moon in a Coat of Arms, only for a Logical Difference from inferior Creatures, and not for any active power in itself. To begin therefore, by your Gracious Leave, this kind of Intelligence with your Highness; I have charged this Gentleman with the humble Presentation of a Secret unto you, not long since imparted to this State, and rewarded with a Pension to the inventor, and to his Posterity; the scope being indeed of singular use, and at the first hearing of as much admiration: namely, a way how to save Gunpowder from all mischance of Fire in their Magazines, to which they have been very obnoxious by a kind of fatality. The thing itself in a small Bulk, with the description thereof, according to mine own Trial and Observations, will be consigned to your Highness apart from this Letter.  
And so having laid a beginning to these poor Philosophical Services, with hope of encouragement therein by Your favourable acceptation, I will conclude with my humblest prayers to the sovereign Lord of all Nature, and Fountain of all Knowledge, to continue his sweet and dear Blessings upon Your Highness. To whom I remain, etc.   

To the DUKE.  
May it please your Grace,  
HAving some days by sickness been deprived of the comfort of your sight, who did me so much honour at my last access, I am bold" to make these poor lines happier than myself: and withal, to represent unto your Grace (whose noble Patronage is my refuge, when I find any occasion to bewail mine own fortune) a thing which seemed strange unto me. I am told (I know not how truly) that his Majesty hath already disposed the Venetian Ambassage to Sir Isaac weak; from whose sufficiency if I should detract, it would be but an argument of my own weakness.  
But that which herein doth touch me, I am loath to say in point of Reputation, surely much in my livelihood (as Lawyers speak) is, that thereby, after seventeen years of foreign and continua●… employment; either ordinary, or extraordinary, I am left utterly destitute of all possibility to subsist at home; much like those seal-fish, which sometimes (as they say) oversleeping themselves in an Ebbing-water, feel nothing about them but a dry shore when they awake. Which comparison I am fain to seek among those creatures, not knowing among men, that have so long served so gracious a Master, any one to whom I may resemble my unfortunate bareness. Good my Lord, as your Grace hath vouchsafed me some part of your love, so make me worthy in this, of some part of your compassion. So I humbly rest,  
Your Graces, etc. H. WOTTON.   

1626.  
My dear Nic. Pey,  
THis is the account of me since you saw me last.  
My going to Oxford was not merely for shift of air, otherwise I should approve your counsel to prefer Boughton before any other part whatsoever; that air best agreeing with me, and being a kind of resolving me into my own beginnings; for there was I born.  
But I have a little ambitious vanity stirring in me, to Print a thing of my Composition there: which would else in London run through too much noise before hand, by reason of the Licences that must be gotten, and an eternal trick in those city-stationers', to rumour what they have under Press.  
From Oxford I was rapt by my nephew, Sir Edmund Bacon, to Redgrave, and by himself, and by my sweet Niece detained ever since: (so I say,) for believe me, there is in their conversations, and in the freedom of their entertainment, a kind of delightful violence.  
In our way hither we blanched Paul's Perry, though within three miles of it, which we are not tender to confess, (being indeed our manifest excuse;) for thereby it appears, the pains of the way did not keep us thence.  
In truth, we thought it (coming immediately from an infected place) an hazardous incivility to put ourselves upon them; for if any ●…nister accident had fallen out about the same time (for co-incidents are not always Causes) we should have rued it for ever.  
Here, when I had been almost a fortnight in the midst of much contentment, I received knowledge of Sir Albertus Morton's departure out of this World, who was dearer unto me than mine own being in it. What a wound it is to my heart, you will easily believe: But His undisputable Will must be done, and unrepiningly received by His own Creatures, who is the Lord of all Nature, and of all Fortune, when he taketh now one, and then another, till the expected day wherein it shall please him to dissolve the whole, and to wrap up even the Heaven itself as a Scrol of Parchment.  
This is the last Philosophy that we must study upon the Earth: let us now, that yet remain while our Glasses shall run by the dropping away of Friends reinforce our Love to one another; which of all virtues both spiritual and moral, hath the highest privilege, because Death itself shall not end it. And good Ni●…. exercise that ●…ove towards me, in letting me know, etc.  
Your ever poor Friend, H. WOTTON.   

To the KING, 1627.  
May it please Your Majesty,  
THe Gracious Aspect which I have ever observed in Your Majesty towards me, doth bind me (though there were no other reason) next under God, to approve all my actions to Your Judgement: Let me therefore most humbly make known unto Your Majesty, that it hath pleased the Fountain of all good thoughts to dispose my mind, by his secret Providence, to enter into the sacred Orders of his Church: having confirmed in me (for which his high Name be ever blessed) the reverence and love of his truth, by a large experience of the abuses thereof, in the very seat and sink of all corruption, Rome itself: to which my wand'ring curiosity carried me no less than four times in my younger years; where I fixed my Studies most upon the historical part, in the politic management of Religion, which I found plainly converted from a Rule of Conscience, to an Instrument of State; and from the Mistress of all Sciences, into a very handmaid of Ambition. Neither do I repent me of bending my observation that way. For though the Truth perhaps may more compendiously appear in ordine doctrinae; yet never more fully, then when we search the original veins thereof, the increase, the depravations, and decays, in ordine temporum.  
This is the Point wherein I have traveled most, and wherein I will spend the remainder of my days; hoping that the All-sufficient God, will in the strength of his mercy enable my weakness, either by my Voice or Pen, to celebrate his Glory. Now, though I was thus far confident in myself, (with all humility be it spoken) that neither my life, nor my poor erudition, would yield much scandal to others; and likewise might well have presumed, that this resolution could no ways offend Your majesty's religious heart; but might rather be secure in Your favour and encouragement; yet having been employed so many years abroad in civil use, I thought it undutiful to change my calling, without the foreknowledge and approbation of my Dear sovereign. This is the humble Message of these few lines unto Your Majesty.  
The Almighty, who hath endued Your Majesty with excellent virtues, and so early taught You the rare Consort between Greatness and Goodness, long protect Your Royal Person and Estates under his singular Love.  
Your majesty's most faithful and devoted Vassal, H. Wotton.   

To my Dear Dynely. S. P. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Pauca meo Gallo, sed quae legat ipsa Licoris. 
IT were an injury to use a Cipher by a Friend so warmly and so justly commended hither by you: nay almost, to write a Letter; but that I am tender to trouble him and lad him with our privacies.  
Of Himself first let me say thus much, that I think surely he is the fittest stranger that could have been chosen to overcome, among our academics, the envy of a stranger. For he hath a fair carriage, and very discreet temper, and by the prompt use of our Language is almost naturalised already: And I cast no doubt of the inward furniture, per quel gusto saporito, that we have taken in a short conversation with him: wherein, you that procured us the benefit of his company, must answer for the poorness of his entertainment.  
Now, for myself, I have not yet entered into the first Order of the Church, by a strange accident: upon which there lies likewise some civil note. The Bishop of Lincoln (sometimes Lord Keeper) is the Prelate from whom I resolved to take it: not for any personal respect; but because he is our Diocesan, and visitor at this college, and to whom I acknowledge a kind of homage for the place I hold, which fell into his disposing formally by Lapse. This Bishop (you must know) on this very day seven-night came to London about ten of the Clock in the morning, to perform an Election of the Scholars at Westminster (whereof he is Dean) usual at this time of the year, as with us. In the evening of that day, Sir john Cook, Secretry, visits him, with Command from His Majesty to be presently gone. What Questions thereupon passed between them upon such a surprise, I omit. Basta. He went away the next morning at eight of the Clock; and so I am put upon another means, which before my next unto you, will be done: For I abound in choice, but I am a little curious; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 will tell you hereafter the Reasons of my curiosity. You will note (as I touched before) upon this; That the Duke's power is great even in his absence, and that he hath in Court very vigilant Instruments both Spiritual and Temporal. I want time to explain myself; but it shall follow.  
Of the present Voyage let me venture to say a little. I am afraid we shall unite all France, if it be thither; yet the provisions are fair, and the Duke resolved, and he is departed, with the soldier, and from the Coast, as beloved a man, and with as many acclamations there, as imprecations within the Land: Such a floating thing is the Vulgar. Of this more at leisure.  
Tuus H. Wotton. From the college, this 10th. of July, 1627.   

To the KING.  
My Most Dear and Dread sovereign,  
AS I gave Your Majesty foreknowledge of my intention to enter into the Church, and had Your Gracious Approvement therein, so I hold it a second duty to Your Majesty, and satisfaction to myself, to inform you likewise by mine own hand, both how far I have proceeded, and upon what Motives; that it may appear unto your Majesty (as I hope it will) an act of conscience, and of reason; and not of greediness and ambition. Your Majesty will be therefore pleased to know, that I have lately taken the degree of Deacon; and so far am I from aiming at any high flight, out of my former sphere, that there I intent to rest. Perhaps I want not some persuaders, that measuring me by their affections, or by Your majesty's goodness, and not by mine own defects or ends, would make me think, that yet before I die, I might become a great Prelate. And I need no persuasion to tell me, that if I would undertake the Pastoral Function, I could peradventure by casualty, out of the Patronages belonging to Your Royal college, without further troubling of Your Majesty, cast some good Benefice upon myself, whereof we have one, if it were vacant, that is worth more than my Provostship. But as they were strucken with horror, who beheld the Majesty of the Lord descending upon the Mount Sinai: so, God knows, the nearer I approach to contemplate his greatness, the more I tremble to assume any cure of souls even in the lowest degree, that were bought at so high a price●… premant torcular qui vindemiarunt: Let them press the Grapes, and fill the Vessels, and taste the Wine, that have gathered the Vintage. But shall I sit and do nothing in the Porch of God's House, whereinto I am entered? God himself forbidden, who was the supreme Mover. What Service then do I propound to the Church? or what contentment to mine own mind? First, for the point of Conscience, I can now hold my place Canonically, which I held before but dispensatively, and withal I can exercise an Archidiaconal Authority annexed thereunto, though of small extent, and no benefit, yet sometimes of pious and necessary use. I comfort myself also with this Christian hope, That Gentlemen and Knights Sons, who are trained up with us in a Seminary of churchmen, (which was the will of the holy Founder) will by my example, (without vanity be it spoken) not be ashamed, after the sight of Courtly Weeds, to put on a Surplice. Lastly, I consider, that this resolution which I have taken, is not unsuitable even to my civil employments abroad, of which for the most part Religion was the Subject; nor to my observations, which have been spent that way in discovery of the Roman Arts and Practices, whereof I hope to yield the World some account, though rather by my Pen, then by my Voice. For though I must humbly confess, that both my Conceptions and Expressions be weak, yet I do more trust my deliberation then my memory: or if Your Majesty will give me leave to paint myself in higher terms, I think, I shall be bolder against the judgements, then against the faces of men. This I conceive to be a piece of mine own Character; so as my private Study must be my theatre rather than a Pulpit; and my Books my Auditors, as they are all my Treasure. Howsoever, if I can produce nothing else for the use of Church and State, yet it shall be comfort enough to the little remnant of my life, to compose some hymns unto his endless glory, who hath called me, (for which his Name be ever blessed) though late to his Service, yet early to the knowledge of his truth, and sense of his mercy. To which ever commending Your Majesty, and Your Royal Actions, with most hearty and humble prayers, I rest,  
Your majesty's most devoted poor Servant.   

To the KING, 1627.  
May it please Your most Gracious Majesty,  
HAving been informed that certain persons have, by the good wishes of the Archbishop of Armagh, been directed hither with a most humble Petition unto Your Majesty, that You will be pleased to make Mr. William Bedel (now Resident upon a small Benefice in Suffolk) governor of Your college at Dublin, for the good of that Society; And myself being required to render unto Your Majesty some testimony of the said William Bedel, (who was long my Chaplain at Venice in the time of my first employment) I am bound in all Conscience and Truth, (as far as Your Majesty will Vouchsafe to accept my poor judgement) to affirm of him, that I think hardly a fit Man for that Charge could have been propounded unto Your Majesty in Your whole kingdom, for singular Erudition and Piety, Conformity to the Rites of Your Church, and zeal to advance the Cause of God, wherein his travels abroad were not obscure in the time of the Excommunication of the Venetians. For it may please Your Majesty to know, that this is the Man whom Padre Paulo took, I may say, into his very soul, with whom he did communicate the inwardest thoughts of his heart, from whom he processed to have received more knowledge in all Divinity, both Scholastical and Positive, then from any tha●… he had ever practised in his days; of which all the passages were well known unto the King Your Father of most blessed Memory. And so, with Your majesty's good Favour, I will end this needless office: For the general fame both of his Learning, ●…nd Life, and Christian Temper, and those religious Labours which Himself hath dedicated unto Your Majesty do better describe him,  
Your majesty's most humble and faithful Vassal, H. Wotton.   

To the DUKE.  
My most noble Lord,  
WHen like that impotent man in the Gospel, I had lain long by the Pools side, while many were healed, and none would throw me in; it pleased your Lordship first of all to pity my infirmities, and to put me into some hope of subsisting hereafter. Therefore I most humbly and justly acknowledge all my ability, and reputation from your favour. You have given me in couragement, you have valued my poor endeavours with the King, you have redeemed me from ridiculousness, who had served so long without any mark of favour. By which Arguments, being already and ever bound to be yours, till either life or honesty shall leave me, I am the bolder to beseech your Lordship to perfect your own work, and to draw his Majesty to some settling of those things that depend between Sir Julius Caesar and me, in that reasonable form which I humbly present unto your Lordship by this my Nephew, likewise your obliged Servant, being myself, by a late indisposition, confined to my Chamber, but in all estates such as I am,  
Your Lordships, H. WOTTON.   

SIR,  
I Send you by this Bearer (to keep you in mirth) a piping Shepherd, done by Cavalier Bassaw, and so well, as may merit some place in your Chamber, which I hear is the centre of good music; to which, out of my pieces at home, I have commanded James to add a Messara playing upon a Timbril, done by Allessandro Padovano, a rising Titian as we esteemed him.  
Good Sir, let us know some true passages of the plight of the Court. I have laid about for some constant intelligence from foreign parts, being strangely relapsed into that humour in my old age. Shall I tell you why? In good faith, for no other use that I mean to make of news, but only that when God shall call me to a better, I may know in what state I leave this World.  
Your affectionate Friend to serve you, H. WOTTON.   

To Mr. Nicolas Arnauld.  
SIR,  
THis young Gentleman, my very near Kinsman, having gotten enough of Veneti●… Italian to seek better; and being for that end directed by me to Sienna, I will take the boldness to commend him to your disposing there, assuring myself, that you have gained much friendship and power wheresoever you are, by that impression which you have left in us here. And so, with those thanks which were long since due, for your kind remembrance of me by a Letter from Florence, I commit you to God's dear blessings and love, and lever rest,  
From Venice. Your very affectionate poor Friend to serve you, H. WOTTON.   

To the Lord Treasurer Weston.  
My most honoured good Lord,  
I Most humbly present (though by some infirmities a little too late) a strange New-year's Gift unto your Lordship, which I will presume to term the cheapest of all that you have received, and yet of the richest materials. In short, it is only an Image of yourself, drawn by memory from such discourse as I have taken up here and there of your Lordship, among the most intelligent and unmalignant men; which to portrait before you I thought no servile office, but ingenuous and real: and I could wish that it had come at the Day, that so your Lordship might have begun the New Year, somewhat like Plato's definition of Felicity, with the contemplation of your own Idea.  
They say, That in your foreign Employments under King James, your Lordship won the Opinion of a very able and searching Judgement, having been the first discoverer of the Intentions against the Palatinate, which were then in brewing, and masked with much Art. And that Sir Edward Conway got the start of you both in Title and Employment at home, because the late Duke of Buckingham wanted then for his own Ends a Martial Secretary. They say, That under our present sovereign, you were chosen to the highest charge at the lowest of the State, when some instrument was requisite of undubitable integrity and provident moderation; which Attributes I have heard none deny you. They discourse thus of your Actions since, that though great Exhaustions cannot be cured with sudden Remedies, no more in a Kingdom then in a Natural Body, yet your Lordship hath well allayed those blustering clamours wherewith at your beginnings your House was in a manner daily besieged. They note, that there have been many changes, but that none hath brought to the Place a judgement so cultivated and illuminated with various Erudition as your Lordship, since the Lord Burghley under Queen Elizabeth, whom they make your Parallel in the ornament of Knowledge.  
They observe in your Lordship divers remarkable combinations of virtues and Abilities, rarely sociable. In the Character of your Aspect, a mixture of Authority and Modesty. In the Faculties of your Mind, quick Apprehension and Solidity together. In the style of your Port and Train, as much Dignity, and as great Dependency as was ever in any of your Place, and with little noise or outward fume. That your Table is very abundant, free and noble, without Luxury. That you are by nature no Flatterer, and yet of greatest power in Court. That you love Magnificence and Frugality both together. That you entertain your Guests and Visiters with noble courtesy, but void of compliment. Lastly, that you maintain a due regard to your Person and Place, and yet are an Enemy to frothy Formalities.  
Now, in the discharge of your Function, they speak of two things that have done you much honour: namely, That you have had always a special care to the supply of the Navy: And likewise a more worthy and tender respect towards the King's only Sister, for her continual support from hence, than she hath found before. They observe your greatness as firmly established as ever was any in the Love (and which is more) in the estimation of a King, who hath so signalised his own Constancy: Besides your addition of Strength (or at least of Lustre) by the Noblest Alliances of the landlord.  
Among these Notes, it is no wonder if some observe, That between a good willingness in your affections to satisfy All, and an impossibility in the matter, and yet an importunity in the Persons, there doth now and then, I know not how, arise a little impatience, which must needs fall upon your Lordship, unless you had been cut out of a Rock of Diamonds, especially having been before so conversant with liberal Studies, and with the freedom of your own Mind.  
Now after this short Collection touching your most honoured Person, I beseech you give me leave to add likewise a little what Men say of the Writer. They say, I want not your gracious good will towards me according to the degree of my poor talon and Travels, but that I am wanting to my self: And in good faith (my Lord) in saying so, they say truly; for I am condemned, I know not how, by nature, to a kind of unfortunate bashfulness in mine own business, and it is now too late to put me in a new Furnace. Therefore it must be your lordship's proper work, and not only your Noble, but even your Charitable goodness that must in some blessed hour remember me. God give your Lordship many healthful and joyful years, and the blessing of that Text; Beatus qui attendit ad attenuatum. And so I remain with an humble and willing Heart, etc.   

To the Queen of Bohemia,  
July, 1636. Most resplendent Queen, even in the darkness of Fortune.  
THat was wont to be my style unto Your Majesty, which You see I have not forgotten. For though I have a great while forborn to trouble You with any of my poor lines; yet the memory of Your sweet and Royal virtues, is the last thing that will die in me. In these months of my silence, I have been busy (if any work of my brains may be termed a business) about certain compositions of mine own, partly imposed, and partly voluntary: whereof some would fain be struggling into the light; but I do check their forwardness, because I am afraid they will be born before their time: in the mean while, I have gotten a subject worthy to exercise my pen unto Your Majesty, which is the choice of the New Lord Treasurer; upon which 
Mar. 6. 1635.  place Your Majesty hath always some dependence in Your domestic Affairs. I believe Your Majesty hath never personally seen him, therefore I will take the boldness to paint him before You; though I must speak, as yet, more out of the universal opinion, then from my own experience: for Your Majesty knows my nature, I am always one of the last intruders. Now the best and the shortest draught that I can make of him, will be this; There is in him no tumour, no sourness, no distraction of thoughts, but a quiet mind, a patiented care, free access, mild and moderate Answers.  
To this I must add a solid judgement, a sober plainness, and a most indubitable character of Fidelity in his very face: so as there needs not much study to think him both a good man, and a wise man. And accordingly is his Family composed; more order than noise, and his nearest Instruments carefully chosen, for he wanted no offers: But above all, there is a blessed note upon him, that his Majesty hath committed his Moneys, where he may trust his Conscience. Upon the whole matter, it is no marvel that the Charge lay a full year under Commission.  
For the King himself (as we hear) did openly profess, that he had spent the most of that time, not in deliberating whom he might choose, but in wooing of him whom he had chosen, to undertake it: For it is a hard matter indeed (if so good a King had not been the Orator) to draw a man out of the settled repose of a learned Life, into such an ocean of public Solicitude, able to swallow an ordinary Spirit. But God, who hath raised him to it, hath made him fit for it.  
This is all that I was in travel to advertise Your Majesty upon the present occasion; my next will be touching the two sweet Princes, Your Sons, whose Fame I have only hitherto enjoyed in the common Voice; having by some weakness in my Legs, and other symptoms of Age, and by mine own retired Studies, been confined to privacy: But I hope to make known unto Them, how much I reverence my Royal Mistress, their Mother, and the Images of her Goodness, at the solemn Meeting the next month in Oxford: For an Academy will be the best Court for my humour. And so I humbly rest,  
Your Majesties ever faithful, ever devoted poor Servant, H. W.   

To the Lord Treasurer Juxon.  
May it please Your good Lordship,  
I Was in hope long since to have waited on your Lordship with an a count, I dare not say of any fruit, yet at least of some use of my private time: But through certain fastidious fumes from my Spleen (though of late I thank God well allayed) I have been kept in such jealousy of mine own conceptions, that some things under my Pen have been born very slowly. In the mean while, remembering an old Pamphlet of mine, of the Elements of Architecture, which I cannot in any modesty suppose that your Lordship had ever seen, though it hath found some vulgar favour among those whom they call gentle Readers, I have gotten such a Copy as did remain to present unto your Lordship: And because my fortunes were never able to erect any thing answerable to my Speculations in that Art, I have newly made, at least an essay of my Invention, at least in the Structure of a little poor Standish, of so contemptible value, as I dare offer it to your Lordship without offence of your integrity. If I could have built some Rural Retreat worthy of your Reception, according to the six Precepts of my Master Vitruvius, I would have invited and entertained your Lordship therein, how homely soever, yet as hearty as you were ever welcomed to any place in this world; and I would then have gloried to have under my Roof as worthy a Counsellor and Treasurer as ever served the best of Kings: But as I am, I can say no more for your lordship's gracious respects and goodness towards me, then that I live in a tormenting desire, some way to celebrate the honour of your Name, and to be known  
Your most humble, professed, and obliged Servant, H. WOTTON.   

To the KING, 1637.  
May it please my most Gracious sovereign,  
IF I were not more afraid to break the Laws of that humble Modesty, which becometh the meanness of my desert, than I am to exceed the bounds of Your majesty's Royal Goodness: I should be a poor Suppliant unto Your Majesty to confer upon me the Mastership of the Savoy, in case Dr. Belcanquel (my good Friend) shall (as the voice goeth) be removed to the deanery of Durham; wherein the Remove and the Substitution are but one stroke of Your Benignity.  
God knows, and the value of the Thing itself may speak as much, that I do not aim therein at any utility: Only, it may be some ease of expense, and Commodity of Lodging, when I shall come (as I am afraid shortly) to oversee certain poor things of mine own at Press: wherewith yet I hope Your Majesty, whose Honour only I study, will not be displeased. I have further considered with myself, that the said place is not incompatible with that which I now hold by Your majesty's intercession with Your ever blessed Father, as it may please You to remember, though You forget nothing so easily as Your own bounties: which place here never before subsisting in the Memory of man, without some Addition, I have now near fourteen years sustained in that integrity as I found it, and with as good Scholars sent annually to Your Royal college at Cambridge, of my particular Choice, as have gone thither since the Foundation; whereof I could show Your Majesty a published Testimony out of that University, in Dr. Winterton's Dedication of Dionysius de situ orbis, unto me; if it were not a miserable thing for me to make up so slight a merit even with a vanity. Besides this, I most humbly confess, that though my fortunes are poor, and my Studies private, yet I cannot deny certain Sparkles of honest ambition, remaining in me, whereby I desire the World should know, that my most virtuous, and most Dear and Royal Master hath not utterly forgotten me. And so I most humbly rest,  
Your majesty's most humble, faithful, hearty Subject and Servant, H. W.   

To the Archbishop.  
May it please your Grace,  
EMboldened by your favour, I humbly present herewith to your Grace, and through your only hands (which in our lower sphere, is via Lactea) my Letter to his Majesty, and the Copy thereof. If it shall pass the file of your Judgement, my poor Lines will have honour enough; but if they take effect by the virtue of your Mediation, I shall be sorry that I cannot be more  
Your Grace's then I am, and will ever be, H. W.   

To Mr. MILTON.  
SIR,  
IT was a special favour, when you lately bestowed upon me here the first taste of your acquaintance, though no longer than to make me know that I wanted more time to value it, and to enjoy it rightly; and in truth, if I could then have imagined your farther stay in these parts, which I understood afterward by Mr. H. I would have been bold, in our vulgar Phrase, to mend my draught, (for you left me with an extreme thirst,) and to have begged your conversation again jointly with your said Learned Friend, at a poor meal or two, that we might have banded together some good Authors of the ancient time: Among which, I observed you to have been familiar.  
Since your going, you have charged me with new Obligations, both for a very kind Letter from you, dated the 6th. of this month, and for a dainty piece of entertainment that came therewith. Wherein I should much commend the Tragical part, if the Lyrical did not ravish me with a certain Dorique delicacy in your Songs and Odes; whereunto I must plainly confess to have seen yet nothing parallel in our language Ipsa mollities. But I must not omit to tell you, that I now only own you thanks for intimating unto me (how modestly soever) the true Artificer. For the Work itself I had viewed some good while before with singular delight, having received it from our common Friend Mr. R. in the very close of the late R's Poems, Printed at Oxford; whereunto is added (as I now suppose) that the accessary might help out the Principal, according to the Art of Stationers, and to leave the Reader Con la bocca dolce.  
Now Sir, concerning your Travels, wherein I may challenge a little more privilege of discourse with you. I suppose you will not blanche Paris in your way; therefore I have been bold to trouble you with a few Lines to Mr. M. B. whom you shall easily find attending the young Lord S. as his governor, and you may surely receive from him good directions for the shaping of your farther journey into Italy, where he did reside by my choice some time for the King, after mine own recess from Venice.  
I should think that your best Line will be thorough the whole length of France to Marseilles, and thence by Sea to Genoa, whence the passage into Tuscany is as diurnal as a Gravesend Barge. I hasten, as you do to Florence, or Sienna, the rather, to tell you a short story from the interest you have given, me in your safety.  
At Sienna I was tabled in the house of one Alberto Sci●…ioni, an old Roman Courtier in dangerous times, having been Steward to the Duca di Pagliano, who with all his Family were strangled, save this only man that escaped by foresight of the Tempest: with him I had often much chat of those affairs; into which he took pleasure to look back from his native harbour, and at my departure toward Rome (which had been the centre of his Experience) I had won confidence enough to beg his advice, how I might carry myself securely there, without offence of others, or of mine own conscience. Signior Arrigo mio (says he) I Pensieri strettis, & il viso sciolto: That is, Your thoughts close, and your countenance lose, will go safely over the whole World. Of which Delphian Oracle (for so I have found it) your judgement doth need no Commentary; and therefore, Sir, I will commit you with it to the best of all securities, Gods dear love, remaining  
Your Friend as much at command, as any of longer date, H. WOTTON.  
POSTSCRIPT.  
Sir, I have expressly sent this my footboy to prevent your departure, without some acknowledgement from me of the receipt of your obliging Letter, having myself through some business, I know not how, neglected the ordinary conveyance. In any part where I shall understand you fixed, I shall be glad, and diligent to entertain you with Home-Novelties; even for some fomentation of our friendship, too soon interrupted in the Cradle.   

Right Honourable,  
MAster Nicholas Pey (through whose hands all my businesses did pass both in my former employments here and now) hath betrayed your Honour unto me in some things that you would desire out of this Country, which if he had not done, he had betrayed me: For I have long wished nothing more than some occasion to serve you; and though this be a kind of intrusion, to insert myself in this manner into your desires; yet I hope it will please you to excuse it, because I do it not only with willingness, but in truth with pleasure: for it falleth out, that I have a little skill, or at least an interest of Affection in the things that you wish from hence, and therefore even mine own nature doth lead me to serve you, besides my duty. I have begun with a very poor Present of Strings for your music, whereof I will provide hereafter better store, and if it be possible, of better quality: by the first Ship your Honour shall receive some Lutes of Sconvels and Mango, and withal a Chest of Glasses of mine own choosing at Murano, wherein I do somewhat pretend; and those Artificers are well acquainted with me. Thus much in private: For the public, I have made by this Bearer a Dispatch unto the whole Body of His majesty's most Honourable council, wherein your worthy Person is comprehended; and therefore, I hope, that writing twice to your Honour now at once, it may serve (by your favour) for some redemption of my former silence. The subject of my Dispatch is as high as ever befell any foreign Minister; wherein, though mine own Conscience (I thank God) doth set me at rest, yet I shall be glad of your Honourable approbation, if it will please you to, afford it me: And so I humbly commit your Honour to God's blessed love, remaining,  
At your commandment.   

Much honoured Sir,  
SInce I had the favour and the delight of any Letters from you, you have had the trouble of two or three from me, besides the present, which I hope will find you according to my continual wishes, in perfect health, though you live in a theatre of Tragical Actions this year. I am here newly delivered of one of the most fastidious pieces of my life, as I account, for my part, the Week of our Annual Election of scholars, both into this Seminary, and out of it for King's college in Cambridge; whereunto hath been a marvellous Concourse, and much distraction in our Votes through Letters from Court. Pardon me, Sir, a Question by the way, Have you no Child of your own, or at least of some of your Friends, whom you could wish trained in this course? I would fain beg some employment from you, which makes me offer you this, or any other of those poor services which lie within my circumference, as this Bearer hath particular charge from me. This is that Nicholas Oudart, for whom you did a great favour in procuring the Cardinal Infanta's Letters to Mechelen in his behalf: which took so good effect, as he is now personally flown over to consummate that business, having information from his Correspondents there, that it is ripened for him. He hath served me from a little Page, and of late years hath managed the chief part of my domestic Affairs; so as if it were not for his own urgent occasion, I could hardly miss him that short time within which I expect his return. You will find him, I hope, worthy of your love, I am sure of your trust. His profession is physic, towards which he is very well grounded in the learned Languages: But his Scope now is Business, not Knowledge. If there shall by chance remain any thing to be added unto your former honourable courtesy, for the expedition of his Cause and Return, you have given us both good cause to be confident both in your power and friendship: And so, Sir, leaving him in your loving arms, I rest for ever,  
Your obliged and faithful Friend to serve you, H. WOTTON.   

To the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury,  
July 30. 1637. May it please your Grace,  
WE very humbly acknowledge, that your Grace hath made us confident in your favour, both by your former Letters, (which are the true images of your mind) and by that report which Mr. Weaver, and Mr. Harison, brought us from your most Reverenced Person: yet, till after the Term, when we might suppose your Grace somewhat freer than before (though ever environed with more Honour than Ease) we were tender to trouble you with any prosecution, on our parts, of your good Intents towards this collegiate Body, about the yet unperfected, though well imprimed Business of New- Windsor. But now, after due Remembrance of our humble Devotions, I am bold to signify unto your Grace in mine own, and in the name of the rest, that having (according to the fair Liberty which you were pleased to yield us) consulted with our council at Law, about some convenient form for the settling of that which his Majesty hath already granted by your Grace's Intercession, we find the King can no way be bound but by his own goodness, neither can we wish his Majesty in better or in safer Bonds: therefore we hope to propound an Expedient, which to my understanding, will (as Astronomers use to say) save all appearances, Namely, etc.  
Master Cl●…avers Election shall be the more honoured, by being a single example; in whose Person we are sorry for nothing, but that he needs not thank us for his choice. And so doubting as little of your Grace's favour, as we do of your Power, in the consummating of our humble, and as we hope they will appear, of our moderate desires, I ever with most hearty zeal remain  
From the college this 30. of july, 1637. At all your Grace's commands, H. WOTTON.   

Right Honourable and our very good Lord, the Lord Keeper,  
IT is so open and so general for any that fly unto your lordship's Tribunal, to receive there a fair and equitable measure, as it hath (we know not how) wrought in us a kind of unnatural effect: For, thereby we have been made the slower to render your Lordship our most humble thanks in our own proper Case, because we knew not how to single it from the common benefit which all find in your goodness: But we can now forbear no longer to join among ourselves, and with the universal voice, in a blessing upon your Name.  
And as we bring a true and humble acknowledgement in our particular, that this college is bound to celebrate your Honour for that charitable Injunction wherewith you have sustained a great and important portion of the livelihood of so many young Plants of good Literature, till a further discussion of our Right: so likewise we most▪ humbly beseech your good Lordship in the sincerity of our own desires of quietness, and in the confidence of our cause, that you will be pleased to entertain with favour a Petition which our council will present unto your Lordship, for some Day of bearing that shall best sort with your great affairs. And so with all our joint and hearty Prayers, both of Young and Old, for your long preservation, We rest,  
Your most humble and devoted Servants.   

My most honoured Lady,  
YOur young Kinsman shall be welcome hither at your pleasure, and there shall want, no respects on my part to make the place both fruitful and cheerful unto him.  
Touching the other part of your last; wherein I am so much obliged by your confidence, which in truth, is the greatest of Obligations, let me assure your Ladyship, by all the protestations of a Christian man, that I never heard before the least whispering of that whereof you writ concerning my Niece: Neither, in good faith, did I know so much as that there was a Lord T. Your Ladyship sees in what darkness, or with what incuriosity I live.  
I shall, ere it be long, be myself in Kent among my Friends; but I will write more speedily, according to your command.  
In the mean while (if I may be pardoned so much boldness) I could wish your Ladyship would take some hold of one well known in Court on both sides, namely Master Nicolas Pey: He is a right honest and discreet man in himself, and of great trust with my Lady T. the grandmother, under whom my Niece was bred, and likewise with her Father and Mother: and I am not tender that your Ladyship should tell him, you have understood so much from me, if it please you to send for him. And so I most humbly rest,  
Your Ladyships with all devotion to serve you, H. WOTTON.   

To Sir Richard Baker Knight.  
SIR,  
I Conceive that you have been pleased, out of our ancient friendship, (which was first, and is ever best elemented in an Academy) and not out of any valuation of my poor judgement, to communicate with me your Divine Meditations on the Lord's Prayer, in some several sheets, which have given me a true taste of the whole; wherein I must needs observe, and much admire the very Character of your Style, which seemeth unto me to have not a little of the African Idea of Saint Augustine's Age, full of sweet Raptures, and of researching Conceits; nothing borrowed, nothing vulgar, and yet all flowing from you (I know not how) with a certain equal facility: So as I see your worldly troubles have been but Pressing-Irons to your heavenly cogitations.  
Good Sir, let not any modesty of your Nature, let not any obscurity of your Fortune smother such an excellent employment of your Erudition and Zeal: for it is a work of Light, and not of Darkness. And thus wishing you long health, that can use it so well, I remain  
Your poor Friend to love and serve you, H. WOTTON.   

To his Sacred Majesty.  
I Do humbly resume the ancient manner, which was adire Caesarem per libellum: with confidence in the Cause, and in Your majesty's Gracious Equity, though not in mine own Merit.  
During my late employment, Sir E. P. then Master of the Rolls died. By his death Sir Julius Caesar claimed not only the Succession of that place, but the gift of all the Clerkships of the Chancery, that should fall void in his own time.  
Of these Clerkships: Your Majesty had formerly granted two Reversions: The one to the late Lord Bruce; for which Mr. Bond, Secretary to my Lord chancellor, had contracted with him. The second to me. The said Bond got his Grant through the favour of his Master, to be confirmed by Sir Julius Caesar before his entrance into the Rolls: but through my absence in Your majesty's Service, and want of pressing it in the due season, my Grant remained unconfirmed, though Your Majesty was pleased to write Your Gracious Letter in my behalf. Which maketh me much bewail mine own case, that my deserts were so poor, as Your Royal Mediation was of less value for me, than my Lord chancellors for his Servant. The premises considered, my humble Suit unto Your Majesty is this: That Sir Julius Caesar may be drawn by Your supreme Authority, to confirm unto me my Reversion of the second Clerkship, whereof I have a Patent under Your Great Seal. Wherein I have just confidence in Your majesty's Grace, since Your very Laws do restore them that have been any ways prejudiced in Servicio Regis.  
Your Majesties long devoted poor Servant. H. WOTTON.   

1621/2.  
SIR,  
BEsides the Address of my public Duties unto your hands, I have long owed you these private lines, full of thanks from my heart for your favour and affection in all my occasions at home, and particularly in the Point of my Privy-Seal, about my Germane Accounts: wherein (as I am abundantly informed both by my Nephew, and by Mr. Nicholas Pey, whom I repute my best Oracles in the information of mine own Obligations) it pleased you to stand by me, not only Da vero Amieo, but indeed, Da vero Cavagliere: From which, though the benefit which did remain in my purse, after the casting up of what was lost, was (as God knows) so little, that I may justly build some hope of your further charity in the authorising of such Demands as I now send: yet on the other side, I must confess, that without your former so friendly, and so noble compassion, I had received a most irrecoverable ruin and shame, beyond all example, and my case would have been very strange; for I should have been undone by the King's goodness, upon assurance whereof (though almost forgotten) I had increased my Train. Now Sir, this acknowledgement of your singular Love, I was never more fit to pay you then at the present, being intenerated in all my inward feelings and affections by new sickness, which with loss of much blood, even no less than twenty ounces within these fourteen days, hath brought me low. In which time (if God had called me from the Travels of this earth) I had left you, out of my narrow fortune, some poor remembrance of my thankfulness: which I have now (finding myself by God's pleasure in a good way of recovery) transmitted to my abovesaid Friend Mr. Pey. Before I end, I must not forget to ease your Honour of such thanks as in your Letters you have been pleased to bestow on me, in respect of your Kinsman Mr. B. because his being with me, I do very rightly reckon among my bands to yourself: for in good faith, his integrity and discretion doth sustain my House; besides his fellowship in certain Studies, wherein we aim at no small things, even perchance at a new Systeme of the World; at least, since we cannot in the Practical and Moral, I would we could mend it in the Speculative Part. But lest these private Contemplations (on which I am fallen) transport me too far, I will conclude as I began, with humble thanks for all your Favours; and with commending your Honoured Person to the Author of all Blessing; remaining ever, etc.   

Most dear Lord,  
WHile I had your Lordship (as I am always bound) in my Meditation, and somewhat under my Pen, (wherewith I hope in due time to express how much I honour your Noble virtues) I am (as if I had not been overladen before) surprised with a new Favour (for that is the true Title of your Commands) touching a fine Boy of this college, whom I perceive by your Letters of the 30th. of the last month to pertain to your care. Quid multa? It shall be done: Only in one thing I must crave pardon, to pass a little gentle Expostulation with your Lordship. You are pleased in your Letter to except my inconveniences, as if in the Nobleness of your Nature (notwithstanding your desire) you would yet allow me here a liberty of mine own Judgement, or Affection. No, my Good Lord, That privilege comes too late, even for yourself to give me, when I once understand your mind. For let me assure your Lordship, that I have such a conscience, and real feeling of my deep Obligations towards your Noble Person, as no value nor respect under Heaven can purchase my voice from him, on whom you have bestowed it. It is true, that the King himself, and no longer than three or four days before the date of your Letters (so nimble are the times) did write for another; but we shall satisfy his Majesty with a pre-election, and yours shall have my first nomination; which, howsoever, will fall timely enough for him within the year. For there belongs (after they are chosen)▪ a little soaking, as well as a baking before, into our Boys. And so not to insist any longer upon such a poor obedience, I humbly lay myself, and whatsoever is, or shall be within my power, at your lordship's feet, remaining,  
Your Lordships in the truest, and heartiest devotions.   

Worthy Sir,  
ALL health to yourself, and to yours both at home and abroad. Sorry I was not to be at Eton when Mr. B. your Nephew, and my Friend came thither to visit me, being then in procinct of his travels: But I had some good while before, at another kind visitation, together with your Sons and Mr. S. given him a Catholic Rule which was given me long since by an old Roman Courtier, with whom I tabled in Sienna, and whose Counsels I begged for the government of myself at my departure from him towards the foresaid Court, where he had been so well versed. Sinor Arrigo (says he) There is one short remembrance will carry you safe through the whole World. I was glad to hear such a preservative contracted into so little room, and so besought him to honour me with it. Nothing but this (saith he) Gli Pensiere stre●…ti, & il viso sciolto: That is, as I use to translate it, Your Thoughts close, and your Countenance lose. This was that moral Antidote which I imparted to Mr. B. and his fellow-travellers, when they were last with me, having a particular interest in their well do, both as they are yours, and as they have had some training under my poor Regiment: To which ties of friendship you have added a third, that they are now of the college of Travellers, wherein if the fruit of the time I have spent, were answerable to the length, I might run for a Deacon at least.  
If I had not been absent when Mr. B. came last, I would have said much more in private between us; which shall be supplied by Letter, if I may receive a safe form of address from you. I continue mainly in the same opinion which I touched unto them, That after their impriming in France, I could wish them to mount the Pirenies into Spain. In that Court (as I hear) you have an assured Friend; And there they may consolidate the French vivacity with a certain Sosiego (as they call it) till they shall afterwards pass from Barcolona over to Italy, where lies the true mean between the other two humours. You see (Sir) by this discourse, that I am in mine own country at leisure; I pray pardon it, whatsoever it be, because it proceedeth from hearty good will: And so I rest,  
At your Commands, H. W. Sir, My Servant the Bearer hath somewhat to say unto, you about a piece of Painting, which I would fain send to your House in the country, covered till it come thither, because it is soberly naked, and ready to be set up, being in a gilded Frame already.   

1633.  
Right Honourable,  
I Received such a Letter from you touching my poor Pamphlet of Architecture, which I yet preserve among my preciousest Papers, as I have made it a Resolution to put nothing forth under my Name, without sending one of the first Copies unto your indulgent hands.  
There is born a small welcome to the King from Scotland (whom I have not yet seen since his Return) I know not how, out of a little indignation. They have sent us over from Leiden, from France, from Polonia, etc. a tempest of panegyrics, and Laudatives of their Princes; whereupon I debated with myself; What? Have we not as good a theme and theatre as they? Or do we want Sense, or Zeal to express our Happiness? This stirred my very Bowels, and within a while my Pen, such as it is. I confess the Subject is so high, as I fear may condemn my Obscurity to have undertaken it; but withal so true, as I hope will not misbecome mine ingenuity. Howsoever, I submit it to your judgement: and if in charity you shall be pleased to like any thing in it, I humbly beseech you that you would be pleased to take some occasion of speaking favourably of it to the King himself; for though I aim at nothing by it, save the very doing of it, yet I should be glad to have it impressed by better judgements than my own; And so I most humbly rest,  
At, etc.   

To Dr. CASTLE.  
Worthy Sir,  
TIll the receipt of your last, and the like from others of both Universities; and one from Brussels, Ejusdem Argumenti; I thought, in good faith, that as I have lived (I thank God) with little Ambition; so I could have died with as much silence as any man in England. But now I see that the most unvaluable things may serve to make a noise.  
And I have now no more to say, but that while the foresaid report shall be false; the under-writer is  
Truly Yours, H. Wotton.   

My dear Nic.  
MOre than a voluntary motion doth now carry me towards Suffolk, especially that I may confer by the way with an excellent Physician at B. whom I brought myself from Venice, where (as either I suppose or surmise) I first contracted my infirmity of the Spleen, to which the very Seat is generally inclined, and therefore their Physicians (who commonly study the inclinations of places) are the likeliest to understand the best remedies.  
I hope to be back by—  
It wrinkles my face to tell you, that my— will cost me 500 l. that done, my thoughts are at rest, and over my Study▪ door you shall find written, INVIDIAE REMEDIUM. Let me end in that word, and ever rest,  
Your heartiest poor Friend, H. WOTTON.  
POSTSCRIPT.  
I Forbear to write further, having a world of Discourse to unload unto you; like those that weed not a Garden till it be grown a wood   

To Iz. Wa. In answer of a Letter requesting him to perform his promise of Writing the Life of Dr. Donne.  
My worthy Friend,  
I Am not able to yield any reason, no, not so much as may satisfy myself, why a most ingenuous Letter of yours 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 awaked, I do herein return you most hearty thanks for the kind prosecution of your first motion, touching a just Office, due to the memory of our ever memorable Friend: To whose good fame, though it be needless to add any thing, (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 over-live mine own.  
That which you add of Doctor King, (now made Dean of Rochester, and by that translated into my native soil) is a great spur unto me: with whom I hope shortly to confer about it in my passage towards Boughton Malherb, (which was my genial Air) and invite him to a friendship with that Family where his Predecessor was familiarly acquainted. I shall write to you at large by the next Messenger, (being at present a little in business) and then I shall set down certain general heads, wherein I desire information by your loving diligence; hoping shortly to enjoy your own 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, H. WOTTON.   

To the same.  
My worthy Friend,  
SInce I last saw you, I have been confined to my Chamber by a quotidian fever, I thank God, of more contumacy than malignity. It had once left me, as I thought; but it was only to fetch more company, returning with a surcrew of those splenetic vapours that are called Hypocondriacal; of which most say, the cure is good company; and I desire no better physician than yourself. I have in one of those fits endeavoured to make it more easy by composing a short Hymn; and since I have apparelled my best thoughts so lightly as in Verse, I hope I shall be pardoned, a second vanity, if I communicate it with such a Friend as yourself: to whom I wish a cheerful spirit, and a thankful heart to value it, as one of the greatest blessings of our good God; in whose dear love I leave you, remaining,  
Your poor Friend to serve you. H. WOTTON.   

A Hymn to my God in a Night of my late Sickness.  

OH thou great Power, in whom I move,  
For whom I live, to whom I die,  
Behold me through thy beams of love,  
Whilst on this couch of tears I lie;  
And cleanse my sordid soul within,  
By thy Christ's Blood, the Bath of Sin.   

No hallowed oils, no grains I need,  
No rags of Saints, no purging fire,  
One rosy drop from David's Seed,  
Was worlds of Seas to quench thine Ire.  
O precious ransom! which once paid,  
That Consummatum est was said:   

And said by him, that said no more,  
But sealed it with his sacred Breath.  
Thou then that hast dispunged my Score,  
And dying waist the death of Death,  
Be to me now, on thee I call,  
My Life, my Strength, my Joy, my All.   
H. WOTTON.   

To Doctor C.  
Worthy Sir,  
I Cannot (according to the Italian phrase, at which I have been often ready to laugh, among a Nation otherwise of so civil language) accuse the receipt of any Letter from you, since your remove from these parts, save of two by this Bearer, my Servant and yours, as all mine shall be. Neither can I satisfy my imagination (so far I am from quieting my desire) where a third (which you intimate in your last) may yet lie smothered in some pocket, for which I should have made a great research, if that were not the diligentest way to miss it. The truth is, as I do highly estimate every line from your Pen, so on the other side, I am as jealous that any of them should stray: For when a Friend of mine, that was lately going towards your City, fell casually into some discourse with me, how he should clothe himself there; I made some sport to tell him, (for a little beguiling of my Melancholy Fumes) that in my opinion the cheapest stuff in London was Silence. But this concerneth neither of us both, for we know how to speak and write safely, that is, honestly: Always, if we touch any tender matter, let us remember his Motto, that wrote upon the Mantle of his Chimney, where he used to keep a good fire, OptimusSecretariorum.  
I own you abundant thanks for the Advertisements in your last, so clearly and judiciously delivered; you cannot do me a greater favour: for though I am a Cloystered Man in the Condition of my present Life, besides my Confinement by Infirmity, yet having spent so much of mine Age among Noise abroad, and seven Years thereof in the Court at home, there doth still hang upon me, I know not how, a certain Concupiscence of Novelties.  
I am sorry I have nothing in that kind at the present to interchange with you.  
In mine own sickness I had of late, for one half night, and a whole day following, a perfect intermission like a Truce from all Symptoms: but some of them are returned again, and I am afraid it will be hard to throw out altogether this same Saturnine Enemy, being now lodged in me almost a full year.  
In your way of applying the Leeches, I have found sensible benefit.  
If I could get a lodging near Paul's Church, I would fain pass a week there yet before the great Festival.  
Pardon me (Good Sir) this Communication with you of my domestic purposes; and pardon me likewise the use of another man's hand in this Letter, for a little ease of mine own Head and Eyes. And so I rest,  
Your hearty Friend and Servant in all occasions, H. WOTTON.  
Sir, Your subscription of Aldrovandus putteth me in mind of a mishap which befell me in the time of my private Travels; I had been in a long pursuit of a much commended Author, namely Johannes Britanicus de re Metallica, and could never see him, but in the Library of the brave Monks of Mont d'Oliveto in the Contaào di Sienna; where while I had taken order to have him transcribed, Aldrovando passing that way, borrowed him from the Monastery: and I sending not long after unto him in Bologna, my Friend found him newly dead: And this was the period of my fruitless curiosity.   

To Doctor C.  
Worthy Sir,  
I See by your Letters, by your discourses, and by your whole conversation, that you are a Friend of great Learning, and (which are commonly consociated) of as great humanity; which shall make me study by any means, within the narrowness of my fortune and judgement, to deserve your love.  
The rest I leave to this Bearer, my Servant,  
As I am Yours, H. WOTTON.   

To Doctor C.  
Worthy Sir,  
HEnceforward no complimental forms between us. Let others repute them according to the Latin denomination, Fine civil filling of speech and Letters. For my part, in good faith ex Diametro, I ever thought they were mere emptinesses: yet they may chance serve between some natures to kindle good will; but I account our Friendship no longer in fieri.  
You have so represented— unto me, as methinks I see him walking not like a Funambulus upon a Cord, but upon the edge of a Razor. What shall I retribute to you from hence? Nothing but a pretty Accident in a sad Subject. There was, you know, inhabitant in— a young Widow of value: Who lately dying at London, whither she went to solace with some of her Friends, left order by Will that her Body should be buried in her dwelling Parish, as it was this week, where— made the Funeral Sermon, who had been one of her professed Suitors: and so she did not want a passionate Elogist, as well as an excellent Preacher.  
For the estate of mine own Body, it is not so well as my Servant seems by your Letter to have laid it before you. It is true, that the symptoms are well allayed, or otherwise peradventure Custom hath taught me to bear them better, being now familiarized and domesticated evils, I am mansueta mala: Yet still the hot fumes continue in the night, and the salivation by day, but in somewhat a lesser measure; besides a straightness of breathing, which I should be glad to know whether you observe in other Hypochendriacal Patients. And if you can advise me of a good Errynum, I have a strong fantasy, ex Fernelio, that it will discharge my head: but such juices and expressions as he appointed, are not now to be had. Sir, pardon me this trouble: and God have you in his love,  
Your affectionate Friend to serve you unceremoniously, H. WOTTON.   

To Doctor C.  
Worthy Sir,  
I Now return unto you your secret Papers again; whereof, lest I should violate the Communications of such a Friend, I have not so much as reserved a Copy (though I might have done it, by your leave) but I have perused them so often, as I think, I can say them without Book. The Scene seemeth since then much changed to the worse; yet I hope all will resolve into nothing: And that when things appear most tempestuous, they will be nearest a calm; according to your great Aphorism in physic, Nox ante Crisin est molestissima.  
I beseech you, Sir, not to conceive by the tardity of my Answer unto you, any faintness in the acknowledgement of your favours: but to prosecute your friendly intelligence upon occasion, even when I shall be on the other side of you, as perchance I shall be shortly in my genial soil: For I will teach the Foot-Posts of that place to find your Lodging. And so leaving you in God's dear love, I rest,  
Your professed poor Friend and Servant, H. WOTTON.   

To Doctor Castle.  
SIR,  
LEt me pray you, that the subject of these lines may be only to recommend unto your Counsel and good Affection the Bearer of them, Mr. John Gainsford, the nearest Kinsman on my mother's side that I have living, and yet my nearer Friend, so as I have more than a single interest in his health: He is much traveled with an exorbitant effusion of— which, though it be a natural preventive to some evils; yet surely, without either stop or moderation, must needs exhaust his spirits. He hath had heretofore some taste of your acquaintance at large, and you have left in him illos aculeos, which you do in all that (after the Scotish phrase) get but a gripe of you: for you are indeed a wounding Man, as my Servant Nicholas saith, to whom I shown your last Letter. This my dear Cousin, in one thing especially, is capable of good hope from your advice, that he believes in it by my discourse with him, who truly must confess that I have received much benefit by yours, touching my splenetical Infirmity; which differeth from his no more than the stopping or running of the same Spout. Besides this, he is the fit for you to work upon, because he hath yet tried no remedy, not so much as the ordinary diversion of opening another vein. Sir, I commend him most hearty into your hands: and because you have two Capacities, (as our Lawyers speak) a Political and Philosophical, from both which I draw much good: Give me leave to entertain you with a Letter of some few Novelties from Oxford, received as I was thinking to shut up the Present, which shall end in ever professing myself,  
Your very hearty poor Friend, H. WOTTON.   

To Doctor C.  
Worthy Sir,  
YOu are the very man, who hath authenticated unto me that sentence which we read in the life of Attious, delivered by Cornelius Nepos, That Prudentia est quaedam divinatio. So as truly hereafter, when I shall receive from the intelligences of your Friends, and your own judgement upon them, any sinister prognostic, it will make me open your next Letter with trembling fingers.  
It is one among many wonders unto me, that the young Lord C. hath made a transition to the contrary Party: I thought he had been better elemated at Eton.  
I send you herewith, for a little exchange, the Copy of an Elegant Letter, which came unto me by the last Boat from a Friend, both of Studies and Affairs touching foreign troubles; which it is not amiss to contemplate, if it be but for some diversion from our own; Christendom was never, within our Age, so inflamed. I hope the ends of the World are come upon us.  
I shall shortly remove into Kent; but while I am absent, there is one shall wait on you weekly in London, to receive and to convey any of your Commands to me; for that is the true name of all your Requests,  
To your professed plain Friend, H. Wotton.  
POSTSCRIPT.  
MY Lord's Grace of Canterbury hath this week sent hither to Mr. Hales, very nobly, a Prebendaryship of Windsor unexpected, undesired, like one of the favours (as they writ) of Henry the Seventh's time.   

To Doctor C.  
Worthy Sir,  
IHave received your last of the 24th. of May, through the hands of Mr. jowes of Windsor, immediately upon my return to mine ordinary Cell; whence I made a short retirement during the late Solemnities, with intention, in truth, to have visited the City of Bath, and to see whether among all kind of affected persons confluent thither, I could pick out any counsel to allay that sputative symptom which yet remaineth upon me from my obstructions of the Spleen. But that journey is laid asleep.  
Now, Sir, in answer to your said Letter; it grieves me to tell you a truth, which this my Servant well knoweth, That I am for the future Election of this year, so engaged already to four Privy-Councellors (and three of them of the highest) and moreover to a Friend of great interest in all the breath that I have to bestow, that, in good saith, I know not how to struggle for a voice for a Child of rare, and almost prodigious hopes, who is one of my poor scholars, and much less for any other propounded so late as your Friend, Son: For it is now more than a month since the day of our Election was proclaimed on our college and Church-gates; the World is nimble in the anticipating of Voices, and for my particular, according to my improvidence in all things else, I am in this likewise no reserver of my good will till the last: I must therefore hearty beseech you, as I have delivered myself at your disposal, so to dispose of me when I am myself, which I am not now. And so I rest,  
Unquiet till I shall some way serve you, H. WOTTON.   

To Doctor C.  
Worthy Sir,  
IT is one of the wonders of the World unto me, how your Letters come so slowly; which if either themselves or their Bearers knew how welcome they are, would fly. I speak this both by some other before, and by your last or the 19 of December, which was almost nine days on the way: and I hope the Scene of Scotland much changed in the mean while to the better.  
But to let go exotic matter, if that may be so termed, I must congratulate with you your actual possession of the Place of the— For although your own Merit was (before you had it) in their judgements that understand you, a kind of present investure; yet I learned long since of our old Master at Oxford, That Actus is better than Potentia: which yet, I hope, will not divert you from your Philosophical Profession, wherein I know no man of sweeter or sounder ability. And so, Sir, I rest,  
Very truly and affectionately, at your Command, H. WOTTON.   

Honourable Sir,  
FOr this time, I pray you, accept in good part from me a Bottle made of a Serpentine Stone, which hath the quality to give any Wine or Water that shall be infused therein, for four and twenty hours, the taste and operation of the Spanwater, and is very medicinable for the Cure of the Spleen and the Gravel, as I am informed: But sure I am, that Sir Walter Raloigh put a value upon it, he having obtained it amongst the Spoils of the governor of St. Omy, in his last fatal Expedition, and by his Page understood the virtues thereof, and that his Captain highly esteemed it. And surely, some good Cures it hath wrought since it came into my hands, for those two infirmities, etc.  
Etracted from a Letter of the Earl of Cork, written to Sir Henry Wotton, Decemb. 22. 1636.   

SIR,  
FIrst, I must thank you for the fruition of your L. at life here, though it was too short. Next, for your Pictures; whereof I return one by this first Boat, and retain the other longer by your courtesy.  
Thirdly, and most of all, for a promise which I receive from you by my Servant, or at least a hope, that you will send me some of your own rural poesy: That will be a nearer image of your inward self, especially when you were retired into yourself. I do therefore expect it greedily by this; for I well remember to have seen some lines that flowed from you with much strength and grace. When you have any great piece of news, I pray now and then Candidus Imperti to  
Your professed Servant, H. WOTTON.   

SIR,  
ALthough I am now a retired and cloistered man, yet there do still hang upon me, I know not how, some relics of an harkening humour.  
The easiest way for you to quench this appetite in your poor Friend, is to empty yourself into my Servant, whom I send to salute you, and to know two things.  
First, whether you be of the Parliament yourself. Next, whether I should be sorry that I am not of it. You can by this time resolve me of both. We are here only fed with certain Airs of good Hope, chameleons food.  
More I will not say now, and you see by this little, how tender I am to usurp upon your time: Yet before I end, let me ask a third question; Have you no playing and breathing days? If you be of the House, might you not start hither for a night or two? The interposing of a little Philosophical diet, may perchance lighten a man's spirits surcharged with public thoughts, and prevent a surfeit of State. Howsoever, hold me fast in your love; and God's mercy be where you are.  
Your poor Friend and Servant, Alla suiscerata, H. WOTTON.   

To Dr. C. 1638.  
Worthy Sir,  
I Find in the bowels of your last (which I received yesternight, shall I say by your or by my Nicholas) much harsh and stiff matter from Scotland, and I believe insusceptible of any farther Concoction, unless it be with much time, quod concoquit omnia. But let me lay all public thoughts aside for the present, having now with you a bosome-business, which may perhaps fall out to concern us more here. Our Nicholas (for I account him at least halfed between us) tells me that you have good means to know when— will be in Town. About whom you may perhaps have heard of certain (as I think for my part) well conceived wishes (though but yet in the Air) touching a virtuous conjunction between him and—; so dear unto me, both in my affection and judgement, and in all respects, that if our nearness in blood did not make me more tender to violate mine own modesty, than I need to be with such a Friend as you are; I would boldly say, that there are few better Matches in this kingdom, for the endowments of her Person and Fortune; nor in the whole World, for the sweetness and goodness of her Mind. And on the other side, albeit I have no acquaintance with the Gentleman; yet I hear likewise so much good of him, as makes me wish I had more interest in his familiarity. I writ this from whence I wrote my last unto you, being on my wings towards Canterbury; whence I shall (〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉) return hither again within six or seven days. And this Bearer, my domestic Friend (a Germane Gentleman of value) will from London meet me at Canterbury, by whom I shall be glad to hear from you, about what time the foresaid— is expected of return to the City, and any thing else that you shall think fit to be told me: But I pray let this privacy which I have passed with you, sleep between us.  
As I rest in your Love, H. WOTTON.   

To Sir C. C.  
SIR,  
LEt me first thank you much for that Rural Communication with your own Thoughts, the best of all Companions. I was first taken with the Virginity (as I may say) of the inscription in our Vulgar. Next, with a natural suavity in the Elocution; which, though it be Lyrical, yet it shows you can put on the Buskin when you list: And when you are tempted again to solicit your own spirits, I would fain have you venture upon some Tragical Subject, though you borrow it out of Arabia; For I am glad our England cannot yield it. I hear, for matter of Novelty, That Sir Thomas Roe (a well-chosen Instrument) is to take his leave on Sunday next at Court, being designed to be one of the great Synod of Protestant Ambassadors, that are to meet at Hamborough; which to me sounds like an Antiphone to the other malign Conjunction at Colen. And so (Sir) committing you to God's dear love, I rest,  
At your Commands, H. W.  
Sir, I retain your Poem for a Pawn that I shall have the rest.  
And I send you a few poor Lines, which my pains did beget: I pray keep them under your own favourable judgement, and impart them tenderly to others; for I fear that even the best of our thoughts may be vainly clothed.   

SIR,  
I Had sooner given you an account of your two last kind Letters, even for mine own sake, upon whom otherwise you should have had just cause to bestow no more of your excellent intelligence; But that I have had this my servant (and I can assure you as much yours) every day upon his wings towards you a pretty while.  
To abbreviate compliment, which never agreed with my Nature. In a few plain words, both myself, and all about me are yours.  
Sir, I was glad by your last, to see in the Scottish Ruptures a Thread of Hope yet left. It is like an Instrument wholly out of tune, but yet not all the strings broken or cut; especially if it be true, which is here voiced with us, that my Lord— a popular Orator, is sent thither to smooth the way towards a pacifical Treaty, between certain of the King's Deputation, and others of the Covenant.  
This Bearer will tell you what we hear of certain rumorous Surmises at N. and the Neighbouring Towns, God (who is himself the true centre of Rest) make us all quiet, and have you in his Love.  
By your affectionate, professed poor Friend, H. WOTTON.    

POEMS.  

A Poem  written by Sir HENRY WOTTON in his youth. 

O Faithless World, & thy more faithless part, a woman's heart!  
The true Shop of variety, where sits nothing but fits  
And fevers of desire, and pangs of love, which toys remove.  
Why, was she born to please, or I to trust, words writ in dust?  
Suffering her Eyes to govern my despair, my pain for air;  
And fruit of time rewarded with untruth, the food of youth.  
Untrue she was: yet, I believed her eyes (instructed spies)  
Till I was taught, that Love was but a School to breed a fool.  
Or sought she more by triumphs of denial, to make a trial  
How far her smiles commanded my weakness? yield and confess,  
Excuse no more thy folly; but for Cure, blush and endure  
As well thy shame, as passions that were vain: and think, 'tis gain  
To know, that Love lodged in a woman's breast, Is but a guest.   H. W.  

Sir Henry Wotton, and sergeant Hoskins riding on the way.  Ho. 
NOble, lovely, virtuous Creature,  
Purposely so framed by Nature  
To enthral your servants wits.  Wo. 
Time must now unite our hearts:  
Not for any my deserts,  
But because (I thinks) it fits.  Ho. 
Dearest treasure of my thought,  
And yet wert thou to be bought  
With my life, thou wert not dear.  Wo. 
Secret comfort of my mind,  
Doubt no longer to be kind,  
But be so and so appear.  Ho. 
Give me love for love again,  
Let our loves be clear and plain,  
Heaven is fairest, when 'tis clearest.  Wo. 
Lest in clouds, and in differing,  
We resemble Seamen erring,  
Farthest off, when we are nearest.  Ho. 
Thus with numbers interchanged,  
Wotton's Muse and mine have ranged,  
Verse and Journey both are spent.  Wo. 
And if Hoskins chance to say,  
That we well have spent the day,  
I, for my part, am content.  
H. W.   

On his Mistress, the Queen of Bohemia.  

YOu meaner Beauties of the Night,  
That poorly satisfy our Eyes  
More by your number, than your light,  
You Common people of the Skies;  
What are you when the Sun shall rise?   

You curious Chanters of the Wood,  
That warble forth Dame nature's lays,  
Thinking your Voices understood  
By your weak accents; what's your praise  
When Philomela her voice shall raise?   

You Violets, that first appear,  
By your pure purple mantles known,  
Like the proud Virgins of the year,  
As if the Spring were all your own;  
What are you when the Rose is blown?   

So, when my Mistress shall be seen  
In Form and Beauty of her mind,  
By virtue first, then Choice a Queen,  
Tell me, if she were not designed  
Th' Eclipse and Glory of her kind?   
H. W.   

To a Noble Friend in his Sickness.  

UNtimely fever, rude insulting guest, (heat●…  
How didst thou with such unharmonious  
Dare to distune his well-composed rest;  
Whose heart so just and noble strokes did beat?   

What if his Youth and Spirits well may bear  
More thick assaults, and stronger siege than this?  
We measure not his courage, but our fear:  
Not what ourselves, but what the Times may miss.   

Had not that blood, which thrice his veins did yield,  
Been better treasured for some glorious day:  
At farthest West to paint the liquid field,  
And with new Worlds his master's love to pay?   

But let those thoughts, sweet Lord, repose a while,  
Tend only now thy vigour to regain;  
And pardon these poor rhymes, that would beguile  
With mine own grief, some portion of thy pain.   
H. W.   

A short Hymn upon the Birth of Prince Charles.  

YOu that on Stars do look,  
Arrest not there your sight,  
Though nature's fairest Book,  
And signed with propitious light;  
Our Blessing now is more Divine,  
Then Planets that at Noon did shine.   

To thee alone be praise,  
From whom our Joy descends,  
Thou Chearer of our Days,  
Of Causes first, and last of Ends:  
To thee this May we sing, by whom  
Our Roses from the Lilies bloom.   

Upon this Royal Flower,  
Sprung from the chastest Bed,  
Thy glorious sweetness shower,  
And first let Myrtles Crown his Head;  
Then Palms and laurels wreathed between;  
But let the Cypress late be seen.   

And so succeeding men,  
When they the fullness see  
Of this our Joy, shall then  
In consort join as well as we,  
To celebrate his Praise above,  
That spreads our Land with fruits of Love.   
H. WOTTON.   

An Ode to the KING, At his returning from Scotland to the Queen, after his Coronation there.  

ROuse up thyself, my gentle Muse,  
Though now our green conceits be grey,  
And yet once more do not refuse  
To take thy Phrygian Harp, and play  
In honour of this cheerful Day.   

Make first a Song of joy and Love,  
Which chastely flame in Royal Eyes;  
Then tune it to the Spheres above  
When the benignest Stars do rise,  
And sweet Conjunctions grace the Skies.   

To this let all good Hearts resound,  
While Diadems invest his Head:  
Long may he live, whose Life doth bound  
More than his Laws, and better Lead  
By high Example, then by Dread.   

Long may He round about Him see  
His Roses and His lilies bloom:  
Long may His only Dear and He  
Joy in Ideas of their own,  
And Kingdoms Hopes so timely sown;  
Long may they both contend to prove,  
That best of Crowns is such a Love.    

Upon the sudden Restraint of the Earl of Somerset, then falling from favour.  

Dazzled thus with height of place,  
Whilst our Hopes our wits Beguile,  
No man marks the narrow space  
'Twixt a Prison and a Smile.   

Then since fortune's favours fade,  
You that in her arms do sleep,  
Learn to swim and not to wade;  
For the Hearts of Kings are deep.   

But if Greatness be so blind,  
As to trust in Towers of Air,  
Let it be with Goodness lined,  
That at least the Fall be fair.   

Then though darkened you shall say,  
When Friends fail and Prince's frown,  
Virtue is the roughest way,  
But proves at night a Bed of Down.   
H. W.   

The Character of a Happy Life.  

HOw happy is he born and taught,  
That serveth not another's will?  
Whose armour is his honest thought,  
And simple truth his utmost skill?   

Whose passions not his masters are,  
Whose soul is still prepared for death;  
Untied unto the World by care  
Of public fame, or private breath.   

Who envies none that chance doth raise,  
Nor vice hath ever understood;  
How deepest wounds are given by praise,  
Nor rules of State, but rules of good.   

Who hath his life from rumours freed,  
Whose conscience is his strong retreat:  
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,  
Nor ruin make Oppressors great.   

Who God doth late and early pray,  
More of his grace then gifts to lend:  
And entertains the harmless day  
With a Religious Book, or Friend.   

This man is freed from servile bands,  
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall:  
Lord of himself, though not of Lands,  
And having nothing, yet hath all.   
H. W.   

On a Bank as I sat a Fishing: A description of the Spring.  
ANd now all Nature seemed in love,  
The lusty sap began to move;  
New juiee did stir th'embracing Vines,  
And Birds had drawn their Valentines:  
The jealous Trout, that low did lie,  
Rose at a well-dissembled fly:  
There stood my Friend, with patiented skill  
Attending of his trembling quill.  
Already were the Eves possessed  
With the swift Pilgrims daubed nest.  
The Groves already did rejoice  
In Philomel's triumphing voice.  
The showers were short, the weather mild,  
The morning fresh, the evening smilled.  
jone takes her neat-rubed Pale, and now  
She trips to milk the Sand-red Cow;  
Where for some sturdy football Swain,  
●…ne strokes a syllabub or twain.  
The Fields and Gardens were beset  
With Tulip, Crocus, Violet:  
And now, though late, the modest Rose  
Did more than half a blush disclose.  
Thus all looked gay, all full of cheer,  
To welcome the new-liveryed year.  
H. W.   

A Translation of the CIV. Psalms to the Original Sense.  

MY soul exalt the Lord with Hymns of praise:  
O Lord my God, how boundless is thy might?  
Whose Throne of State is clothed with glorious rays,  
And round about hast robbed thyself with light.  
Who like a curtain hast the Heavens displayed,  
And in the watery Roofs thy Chambers laid.   

Whose chariots are the thickened clouds above,  
Who walkest upon the winged winds below,  
At whose command the airy Spirits move,  
And fiery meteors their obedience show.  
Who on this Base the earth didst firmly found,  
And mad'st the dee●… to circumvest it round.   

The waves that rise would drown the highest hill,  
But at thy check they fly, and when they hear  
Thy thundering voice, they post to do thy will,  
And bound their furies in their proper sphere:  
Where surging floods, and vailing ebbs can tell,  
That none beyond thy marks must sink or swell.   

Who hath disposed, but thou, the winding way  
Where springs down from the steepy crags do beat,  
At which both fostered Beasts their thirsts allay,  
And the wild Asses come to quench their heat;  
Where Birds resort, and in their kind, thy praise  
Among the branches chant in warbling lays.   

The mounts are watered from thy dwelling place,  
The barns and meads are filled for man and beast;  
Wine glads the heart, and oil adorns the face,  
And bread the staff whereon our strength doth rest;  
Nor shrubs alone feel thy sufficing hand,  
But even the Cedars that so proudly stand.   

So have the Fowls their sundry seats to breed,  
The ranging Stork in stately Beeches dwells;  
The climbing Goats on hills securely feed,  
The mining coneys shroud in rocky Cells:  
Nor can the heavenly lights their course forget,  
The Moon her turns, or Sun his times to set.   

Thou makest the Night to over-vail the Day;  
Then savage Beasts creep from the silent wood,  
Then lion's whelps lie roaring for their prey,  
And at thy powerful hand demand their food:  
Who when at morn they all recouch again,  
Then toiling man till eve pursues his pain.   

Lord, when on thy various works we look,  
How richly furnished is the earth we tread!  
Where, in the fair Contents of Nature's Book,  
We may the wonders of thy wisdom read:  
Nor earth alone, but lo, the sea so wide,  
Where great & small, a world of creatures glide.   

There go the Ships that furrow out their way;  
Yea, thereof Whales enormous sights we see,  
Which yet have scope among the rest to play,  
And all do wait for their support on thee:  
Who hast assigned each thing his proper food,  
And in due season dost dispense thy good.   

They gather when thy gifts thou dost divide;  
Their stores abound, if thou thy hand enlarge;  
Confused they are, when thou thy beams dost hid;  
In dust resolved, if thou their breath discharge.  
Again, when thou of life renew'st the seeds,  
The withered fields revest their cheerful weeds.   

Be ever gloried here thy sovereign Name,  
That thou may'st smile on all which thou hast made;  
Whose frown alone can shake this earthly frame,  
And at whose touch the hills in smoke shall vade.  
For me, may (while I breathe) both harp & voice,  
In sweet indictment of thy Hymns rejoice.   

Let Sinners fail, let all profaneness cease;  
His Praise, (my Soul) His Praise shall be thy Peace.   
H. WOTTON.   

Tears at the Grave of Sir Albertus Morton (who was buried at Southampton) wept by Sir H. Wotton.  

SIlence (in truth) would speak my sorrow best,  
For, deepest wounds can least their feelings tell;  
Yet, let me borrow from mine own unrest,  
But time to bid him, whom I loved, farewel.   

O my unhappy lines! you that before  
Have served my youth to vent some wanton cries,  
And now congealed with grief, can scarce implore  
Strength to accent! Here my Albertus lies.   

This is the sable Stone, this is the Cave,  
And womb of earth that doth his corpse embrace;  
While others sing his praise, let me engrave  
These bleeding Numbers to adorn the place.   

Here will I paint the Characters of woe,  
Here will I pay my tribute to the Dead,  
And here my faithful tears in showers shall flow,  
To humanize the Flints whereon I tread.   

Where though I mourn my matchless loss alone,  
And none between my weakness judge and me;  
Yet even these gentle walls allow my moan,  
Whose doleful echoes to my Plaints agree.   

But is he gone? and live I rhyming here,  
As if some Muse would listen to my Lay,  
When all distuned sit waiting for their Dear,  
And bathe the Banks where he was want to play?   

Dwell thou in endless Light, discharged Soul;  
Freed now from Natures, and from fortune's trust:  
While on this fluent Globe my glass shall role,  
And run the rest of my remaining dust.   
H. W.   

Upon the death of Sir Albert. Morton's Wife.  
HE first deceased; She for a little tried  
To live without him: liked it not, and died.  
H. W   

This Hymn was made by Sir H. Wotton, when he was an Ambassador at Venice, in the time of a great sickness there.  

ETernal Mover, whose diffused Glory,  
To show our grovelling Reason what thou art,  
Unfolds itself in Clouds of nature's story,  
Where Man, thy proudest Creature, acts his part:  
Whom yet (alas) I know not why, we call  
The world's contracted sum, the little all.   

For, what are we but lumps of walking clay?  
Why should we swell? whence should our spirits rise  
Are not bruit Beasts as strong, and Birds as gay,  
Trees longer lived, and creeping things as wise?  
Only our souls was left an inward light,  
To feel our weakness, and confess thy might.   

Thou then, our strength, Father of life and death,  
To whom our thanks, our vows, ourselves we own,  
From me thy tenant of this fading breath,  
Accept those lines which from thy goodness flow:  
And thou that wert thy Regal prophet's Muse,  
Do not thy Praise in weaker strains refuse.   

Let these poor Notes ascend unto thy throne,  
Where Majesty doth sit with Mercy crowned,  
Where my Redeemer lives, in whom alone  
The errors of my wand'ring life are drowned:  
Where all the choir of heaven resound the same,  
That only Thine, Thine is the saving Name.   

Well then, my Soul, joy in the midst of Pain;  
Thy Christ that conquered hell, shall from above  
With greater triumph yet return again,  
And conquer his own justice with his Love;  
Commanding Earth and Seas to render those  
Unto his Bliss, for whom he paid his Woes.   

Now have I done: now are my thoughts at peace,  
And now my joys are stronger than my grief:  
I feel those Comforts that shall never cease,  
Future in Hope, but present in Belief.  
Thy words are true, thy promises are just,  
And thou wilt find thy dearly bought in Dust.   
H. WOTTON    

POEMS Found among the Papers of Sir HENRY WOTTON.  

A Description of the countries' Recreations.  

QUivering fears, Heart-tearing cares,  
Anxious sighs, Untimely tears,  
Fly, fly to the Courts;  
Fly to fond worldlings sports,  
Where strained Sardonick smiles are glozing still,  
And grief is forced to laugh against her will;  
Where mirth's but mummery;  
And sorrows only real be.   

Fly from our country pastimes! fly,  
Sad troop of humane misery;  
Come serene looks,  
Clear as the crystal brooks,  
Or the pure azur'd heaven, that smiles to see  
The rich attendance of our poverty.  
Peace and a secure mind,  
(Which all men seek) we only find.   

Abused Mortals! did you know  
Where Joy, Hearts-ease, and comforts grow;  
You'd scorn proud towers,  
And seek them in these bowers, (shake,  
Where winds sometimes, our woods perhaps may  
But blustering care could never tempest make,  
Nor murmurs ere come nigh us.  
Saving of fountains that glide by us.   

Here's no fantastic Mask, nor dance,  
But of our Kids, that frisk and prance:  
Nor wars are seen,  
Unless upon the green  
Two harmless Lambs are butting one the other;  
Which done, both bleating run, each to his Mother.  
And wounds are never found,  
Save what the ploughshare gives the ground.   

Here are no false entrapping baits,  
To hasten too too hasty fates;  
Unless it be  
The fond Credulity  
Of silly fish, which worldling-like, still look  
Upon the Bait, but never on the Hook:  
Nor envy, unless among  
The Birds, for prize of their sweet song.   

Go! let the diving Negro seek  
For Gems hid in some forlorn creek;  
We all Pearls scorn,  
Save what the dewy morn  
Congeals upon each little spire of grass;  
Which careless Shepherds beat down as they pass;  
And gold ne'er here appears,  
Save what the yellow Ceres bears.   

Blessed silent Groves! O may ye be  
For ever Mirths best Nursery!  
May pure contents  
For ever pitch their tents (Mountains,  
Upon these Downs, these Meads, these Rocks, these  
And peace still slumber by these purling Fountains!  
Which we may every year  
Find when we come a fishing here.  
Ignoto.    

Imitatio Horatianae Odes 9 donec gratus eram tibi, Lib. 3.  
A DIALOGUE betwixt GOD and the SOUL.  Soul. 
WHilst my Souls eye beheld no light (sight  
But what streamed from thy gracious  
To me the world's greatest King,  
Seemed but some little vulgar thing.  God. 
Whilst thou prov'dst pure; and that in thee  
I could glass all my deity:  
How glad did I from Heaven departed,  
To find a lodging in thy heart!  S. 
Now Fame and Greatness bear the sway,  
('Tis they that hold my prison's Key:)  
For whom my soul would die, might she  
Leave them her immortality.  G. 
I, and some few pure Souls conspire,  
And burn both in a mutual fire,  
For whom I'd die once more, ere they  
Should miss of Heavens eternal day.  S. 
But Lord! What if I turn again,  
And with an adamantine chain,  
Lock me to thee? What if I chase  
The world away to give thee place?  G. 
Then though these souls in whom I joy  
Are Seraphius, Thou but a toy,  
A foolish toy, yet once more I  
Would with thee live, and for thee die.  
Ignoto.   

Doctor B. of TEARS.  

WHo would have thought, there could have  
Such joy in tears, wept for our sin? (been  
Mine eyes have seen, my heart hath proved  
The most and best of earthly joys:  
The sweets of love, and being loved,  
Masks, Feasts, and plays, and such like toys.  
Yet, this one tear, which now doth fall,  
In true delight exceeds them all.   

2.  
Indeed, mine eyes at first let in  
Those guests that did these woes begin,  
Therefore mine eyes in tears, and grief,  
Are justly drowned: but, that those tears  
Should comfort bring, is past belief:  
Oh God in this thy grace appears,  
Thou that makest light from darkness spring,  
Makest joys to weep, and sorrows sing.   

3.  
Oh where am I? What may I think?  
Help, help, alas my heart doth sink;  
Thus lost in seas of woe,  
Thus laden with my sin,  
Waves of despair dash in,  
And threat my overthrow.  
What heart oppressed with such a weight  
Can choose but break, and perish quite?   

4.  
Yet, as at Sea in storms, men use  
The Ship to save, the goods to lose;  
So, in this fearful storm,  
This danger to prevent,  
Before all hope be spent,  
I'll choose the lesser harm:  
My tears to seas I will convert,  
And drown my eyes to save my heart.   

5.  
Oh God my God, what shall I give  
To thee in thanks? I am and live  
In thee, and thou didst safe preserve  
My health, my fame, my goods, my rent,  
Thou makest me eat while others starve:  
Such unto me thy Blessings are,  
As if I were thy only care.   

6.  
But, oh my God thou art more kind,  
When I look inward on my mind:  
Thou fill'st my heart with humble joy,  
With patience, meekness, fervent love,  
(Which doth all other loves destroy)  
With faith (which nothing can remove)  
And hope assured of heaven's bliss;  
This is my state: thy grace is this.    

By Chidick Tychborn (being young and then in the Tower) the night before his Execution.  

1.  
MY prime of youth, is but a frost of Cares,  
My feast of joy, is but a dish of pain,  
My Crop of Corn is but a field of tares,  
And all my good is but vain hope of gain:  
The day is past, and yet I saw no Sun,  
And now I live, and now my life is done.   

2.  
The Spring is past, and yet it hath not sprung;  
The fruit is dead, and yet the leaves are green:  
My youth is gone, and yet I am but young:  
I saw the world, and yet I was not seen.  
My thread is cut, and yet it is not spun:  
And now I live, and now my life is done.   

3.  
I sought my death, and found it in my womb,  
I looked for life, and saw it was a shade:  
I trod the earth, and knew it was my tomb,  
And now I die, and now I am but made.  
The glass is full, and now my glass is run,  
And now I live, and now my life is done.   

1.  
RIse, oh my Soul, with thy desires to Heaven,  
And with Divinest contemplation, use  
Thy time, where times eternity is given, (buse▪  
And let vain thoughts no more thy thoughts a●…  
But down in darkness let them lie,  
So live thy better, let thy worse thoughts die.   

2.  
And thou, my Soul, inspired with holy flame,  
View and review with most regardful eye,  
That holy Cross whence thy salvation came,  
On which thy Saviour, and thy sin did die:  
For in that Sacred object is much pleasure,  
And in that Saviour is my life, my treasure.   

3.  
To thee (O Jesus) I direct my eye;  
To thee my hands, to thee my humble knees,  
To thee my heart shall offer sacrifice,  
To thee my thoughts, who my thoughts only sees:  
To thee myself, myself and all I give;  
To thee I die, to thee I only live.   
Ignoto.   

Sir Walter Raleigh the Night before his Death.  

EVen such is time that takes on trust  
Our youth, our joys, our all we have,  
And pays us but with age and dust;  
Who in the dark and silent Grave  
(When we have wandered all our ways)  
Shuts up the story of our days.  
But from this earth, this grave, this dust,  
My God shall raise me up, I trust.  
W. R.    

The World.  

THe World's a bubble: and the life of man less than a span.  
In his conception wretched; from the womb, so to the tomb.  
Nursed from his cradle, and brought up to years, with cares and fears.  
Who then to frail mortality shall trust,  
But limns on water, or but writes in dust.  
Yet, whilst with sorrow here we live oppressed, what life is best?  
Courts are but only superficial Schools, to dandle Fools:  
The rural part is turned into a den of savage men:  
And where's a City from foul vice so free,  
But may be termed the worst of all the three?  
Domestic cares afflicts the husband's bed, or pains his head:  
Those that live single, take it for a curse, or do things worse: (none,  
These would have children, those that have them or wish them gone:  
What is it then to have, or have no wife,  
But single thraldom, or a double strife?  
Our own affections still at home to please, is a disease.  
To cross the Seas to any foreign soil, peril and toil.  
Wars with their noise affright us, when they cease weare worse in peace.  
What then remains, but that we still should cry  
For being born, and being born, to die?  
Fra. Lord Bacon.    

De Morte.  

Man's life's a Tragedy: his mother's womb  
(From which he enters) is the tiring room;  
This spacious earth the theatre; and the Stage  
That Country which he lives in: Passions, Rage,  
Folly, and Vice are Actors: The first cry  
The Prologue to th'ensuing Tragedy.  
The former act consisteth of dumb shows;  
The second, he to more perfection grows;  
I'th' third he is a man, and doth begin  
To nurture vice, and act the deeds of sin:  
I'th' fourth declines; i'th' fifth diseases clog  
And trouble him; than Death's his Epilogue.  
Ignoto.    

EPIGRAM.  

IF breath were made for every man to buy,  
The poor man could not live, rich would not die.    

John Hoskins to his little Child Benjamin from the Tower.  

SWeet Benjamin, since thou art young,  
And hast not yet the use of tongue,  
Make it thy slave, while thou art free,  
Imprison it, lest it do thee.     

LETTERS TO Sir EDMUND BACON.  

SIR,  
IT is very just, since I cannot personally accompany this Gentleman, yet that I do it with my Letter: wherein if I could transport the Image of mine own mind unto you, as lively as we have often represented you unto ourselves abroad, than I should not think us asunder while you read it. But of my longing to see you, I am a better feeler than a describer; as likewise of my obligations towards you, whereof it is not the least, that I have been by your mediation, and judgement, and love, furnished with so excellent a Comforter of my absence, and so loving and discreet a divider and easer of my Travels; after whose separation from me, I am ready to say that which I remember the younger Pliny doth utter with much feeling, after the loss of his venerable and dearest Friend Cerellius Rufus; Vereor (saith he) ne posthac negligentius vivam. But herein my case is better than his: for I cannot but hope, that some good occasion will bring him again nearer me: And I must confess unto you, I should be glad to see him planted for a while about the King, or Prince, that so if his own fortune be not mended by the Court, yet the Court may be bettered by him in that which it doth more desperately want. Now, Sir, Besides himself, there cometh unto you with him an Italian Doctor of physic, by name Gasper●… Despotini; a man well practised in his own faculty, and very Philosophical and sound in his discourses: By birth a Venetian; which though it be not Urbs ignobilis (as Saint Paul said of his own Mother-City) yet is his second birth the more excellent; I mean his illumination in Gods saving Truth, which was the only cause of his remove; and I was glad to be the conductor of him where his conscience may be free, though his condition otherwise (till he shall be known) will be the poorer. This Stranger I was desirous to present unto you as my friend, in his company, whose testimony may more value him then mine own: And so committing them both to your love, and yourself with all that family to God's blessing hand, I rest,  
From my Lodging in Kings-street April 2. 1611. Your poor Friend, and Servant, H. WOTTON.   

SIR,  
IT is late at night, and I am but newly come to the knowledge that my Lord is to send a Messenger unto you to morrow morning: yet howsoever, I have resolved not to be left out of this dispatch, though in truth I had rather be the sootman myself, than one of the Writers. But here I am tied about mine own business; which I have told you like a true Courtier: for right Courtiers indeed have no other business but themselves. Our Lord Jesus bless you all as you are now together, and wheresoever you shall be.  
From Greenwich, May 27. 1611. Your Uncle by your own election, and your Servant by mine, H. WOTTON.   

1612, 13.  
SIR,  
I Must now acknowledge it true which our Navigators tell us, that there be indeed certain variations of the Compass: for I think there was never point of a needle better touched than you have touched me, having ever since I parted from you, been looking towards you, and yet still by something or another, I am put out of my course. I will therefore hereafter not promise you any more to come unto you, but I will promise myself it; because indeed I have no other means to be at peace with myself: for I must lay this heavy note upon your conversation, that I am the unquieter for it a good while after.  
This is the first part of what I meant to say. After which I would fain tell you, That I send this Foot man expressly unto you to redeem some part of my fault, for not answering your late kind Letter by the Messenger that brought it: But the truth is, I had some special occasion to send to Berry: and therefore I will set no more upon your account, than his steps from thence to Redgrave, where perhaps you now are. See what a real Courtier I am, and whether I be likely to prosper. Well, howsoever, let me entertain you a little by this opportunity, with some of our discourses. The King departed yesterday from hence towards you; having as yet, notwithstanding much voice, and some wagering on the other side, determined nothing of the vacant places: Whereupon the Court is now divided into two opinions; the one; that all is reserved for the greater honour of the marriage; the other, that nothing will be done till a Parliament, or (to speak more precisely) till after a Parliament; which latter conceit, though it be spread without either Author or ground, yet as many things else of no more validity, it hath gotten faith enough on a sudden. I will leave this to the judicial Astrologers of the Court, and tell you a tale about a subject somewhat nearer my capacity.  
On Sunday last at night, and no longer, some sixteen Apprentices (of what sort you shall guests by the rest of the Story) having secretly learned a new Play without Book., entitled, The Hog hath lost his Pearl; took up the White-Fryers for their Theatre: and having invited thither (as it should seem) rather their Mistresses then their Masters; who were all to enter per buletini for a note of distinction from ordinary Comedians. Towards the end of the Play, the Sheriffs (who by chance had heard of it) came in (as they say) and carried some six or seven of them to perform the last Act at Bridewell; the rest are fled. Now it is strange to hear how sharpwitted the City is, for they will needs have Sir john Swinerton the Lord Maior be meant by the Hog, and the late Lord Treasurer by the Pearl. And now let me bid you good night, from my Chamber in King-street this Tuesday, at Eleven of the night.  
Your faithfullest to serve you, H. WOTTON.  
Francisco hath made a proof of that Green which you sent me; against which he taketh this exception, That being tried upon Glass, (which he esteemeth the best of trials) it is not translucent; arguing (as he saith) too much density of the matter, and consequently, less quickness and spirit then in colours of more tenuity.   

Cambridge, Sunday at Night. SIR,  
TO divert you from thinking on my faults, I will entertain you with some News out of a Letter which I have here received from Venice, of much consequence divers ways.  
The Bishop of Bamberge, a Practical Almain Prelate (of which kind there be enough of that Coat, though not in that country) was treating in Rome a League against the Protestant Princes of Germany, with whom His Majesty (you know) was first by Articles, and is now by alliance more nearly confederate: His Commission he had from the Emperor, S●…tto parole tacit as they call it. Now, while this matter was there moulding, a Chiaus arrives at the Emperor's Court, with a Letter from the Turk, importing a denunciation of war, grounded upon a heap of complaints easily found out between Princes that do not intent to agree. And accordingly the Turk is departed in Person from Constantinople into Hungary with great Forces (as my Friend writeth) on a morning quando nevicava a furia (by which appeareth the sharpness of the humour) having made a levy before his going of 5000 youths out of the Seragli; a thing never seen before. He hath left behind him Nasuf Bassa as precedent of his affairs, who told the Batolo of Verice there resident, that his Master was but gone to hunt: and seemeth to have held the same language with the other Ambassadors: whether out of meet wantonness of conceit, or as esteeming a war with Christians, but a sport in respect of that which he had newly concluded with the Persian, I know not: howsoever, this is likely to quash the Bishop's business, and I fear it will fall heavy upon Germany: which first in itself was never more disunited; and besides, the Emperor in small good will with th●…se that should help him. It will likewise in my conjecture hasten the departure of the Count Palatine, or at least (if it so please him) it may well serve his turn for that purpose.  
This is all that I have for your entertainment: To morrow morning I depart hence towards London: whence I determine to write by every Carrier to you, till I bring myself.  
In your last, you mentioned a certain Courtier that seemeth to have spoken somewhat harshly of me; I have a guess at the man: and though for him to speak of such as I am, in any kind whatsoever, was a favour; yet I wonder how I am fallen out of his estimation, for it is not long since he offered me a fair Match within his own Tribe, and much addition to her Fortune out of his private bounty. When we meet, all the world to nothing we shall laugh; and in truth, Sir, this world is worthy of nothing else. In the mean time, and ever, our sweet Saviour keep us in his love.  
Your poor faithful Friend and Servant, H. WOTTON.   

March the last, 1613. SIR,  
I Returned from Cambridge to London some two hours after the King. The next day was celebrated with twenty Tilters, wherein there entered four fraternities: the Earls, Pembroke and Mongommery; my Lord Walden, Thomas and Henry Hawards; the two Riches, and the two Alexanders, as they are called (though falsely, like many things else in a Court.) The rest were Lenox, Arundel, Rutland, Dorset, Chandowes, North, hay, Dingwel, Clifford, Sir Thomas Somerset, and Sir john Harrington. The day fell out wet to the disgrace of many fine Plumes. Some Caparisons seen before, adventured to appear again on the Stage with a little disguisement, even on the back of one of the most curious: So frugal are the times, or so indigent. The two Riches only made a Speech to the King: the rest were contented with bare impreze: whereof some were so dark, that their meaning is not yet understood; unless perchance that were their meaning, not to be understood. The two best, to my fancy, were those of the two Earls Brothers: The first a small exceeding white Pearl, and the word, Solo candore valeo. The other a Sun casting a glance on the side of a Pillar, and the Beams reflecting, with this Motto, Splendonte refulget. In which devices there seemed an agreement; the elder Brother, to allude to his own nature, and the younger to his fortune. The day was signalised with no extraordinary accident, save only between Sir Thomas Haward, and Sir Thomas Somerset, who with a counterbuff had almost set himself out of the Saddle, and made the others Horse sink under him; but they both came fairly off without any further disgrace. Of the merits of the rest I will say nothing, my Pen being very unfit to speak of lances.  
To this solemnity, of the public Ambassadors, only the archduke was invited, for the healing of the distaste he had taken for the preference of the Venetian at the marriage. But I doubt the plaster be too narrow for the sore; which he seemed not much discontented that men should note in his whole countenance that day. Towards the evening a challenge passed between Archie and a famous Knight, called Sir Thomas Parsons; the one a fool by election, and the other by necessity: which was accordingly performed some two or three days after, at Tilt, Tornie, and on foot both completely armed, and solemnly brought in before their Majesties, and almost as many other meaner eyes as were at the former. Which bred much sport for the present, and afterwards upon cooler consideration much censure and discourse, as the manner is.  
The departure of the Count Palatine and my Lady Elizabeth is put off from the Thursday in the Easter-week, till the Tuesday following: which day I think will hold. The Commissioners that accompany her, have the titles of Ambassadors, to give them precedency before Sir Ralph Winwood at the Hague; and likewise in any encounters with Almaign Princes. Sir Edward Cecil goeth as Treasurer, to keep up that Office in the name; though it be otherwise perhaps from a General, rather a fall then an ascent. Before this journey there is a conceit, that the Duke of Lenox will be naturalised a Peer of our Parliament, and my Lord of Rochester be created Earl of Devonshire. The foreign matter is little increased since my last unto you from Cambridge. The Savoy Ambassador not yet arrived. The Turks designs hitherto unknown, and marching slowly according to the nature of huge Armies: In which suspense the Venctians have augmented their guard in the Gulf: enough to confirm unto the world, that States must be conserved, even with ridiculous fears. This is all that the week yieldeth. My Lord and Lady have received those Letters and loving salutations which my Foot man brought. And so with mine own hearty prayers to God for you, and for that most good niece, I commit you both to his blessing and love.  
Your faithfullest of unprofitable Friends, H. WOTTON.  
I pray Sir remember me very particularly to my Cousin Nicholas your worthy Brother, for whose health our good God be thanked.  
Sir James Cromer is this week dead of an Aposteme in his stomach, and in him the name; unless his Lady (as she seemeth to have intention) shall revive it with matching one of her four Daughters with a Cromer of obscure fortune, which they say is latent in your Shire.   

From my Chamber this Thursday, St. George his Eve, 1613. SIR,  
THe last week, by reason of my being in Kent, was a week of silence; and this I think will appear unto you a week of wonder.  
The Court was full of discourse and expectation, that the King being now disincumbred of the care of his Daughter, would towards this Feast of St. George fill up either all or some at least of those places that had lain vacant so long, and had been in this time of their emptiness a subject of notorious opposition between our great Viscount and the House of Suffolk. Thus I say ran the opinion: When yesterday about six of the Clock at evening, Sir Thomas Overbury was from the Council-Chamber conveyed by a Clerk of the Council, and two of the Guard to the Tower; and there by Warrant consigned to the Lieutenant as close Prisoner: Which both by the suddenness, like a stroke of Thunder, and more by the quality and relation of the person, breeding in the Beholders (whereof by chance I was one) very much amazement; and being likely in some proportion to breed the like in the Hearers, I will adventure for the satisfying of your thoughts about it, to set down the forerunning and leading Causes of this accident, as far, as in so short a time I have been able to wade in so deep a water. It is conceived that the King hath a good while been much distasted with the said Gentleman, even in his own nature, for too stiff a carriage of his fortune; besides that scandalous offence of the Queen at Greenwich, which was never but a palliated cure. Upon which considerations, His Majesty resolving to sever him from my Lord of Rochester, and to do it not disgracefully or violently, but in some honourable fashion; He commanded not long since the Archbishop by way of familiar discourse, to propound unto him the Ambassage of France, or of the archduke's Court; whereof the one was shortly to be changed, and the other at the present vacant: In which proposition it seemeth, though shadowed under the Arch-Bishops good will, that the King was also contented some little light should be given him of His majesty's inclination unto it, grounded upon his merit. At this the Fish did not by't; whereupon the King took a rounder way, commanding my Lord Chancellor, and the Earl of Pembroke to propound jointly the same unto him (which the Archbishop had before moved) as immediately from the King, and to sweeten it the more, he had (as I hear) an offer made him of assurance before his going off the place, of Treasurer of the Chamber, which he expecteth after the death of the Lord Stanhop; whom belike the King would have drawn to some reasonable composition. Notwithstanding all which Motives and impulsives, Sir Thomas Overbury refused to be sent abroad, with such terms, as were by the Council interpreted pregnant of contempt, in a Case where the King had opened His will; which refusal of his, I should for my part esteem an eternal disgrace to our occupation, if withal I did not consider how hard it is to pull one from the bosom of a Favourite. Thus you see the point upon which one hath been committed standing in the second degree of power in the Court, and conceiving (as himself told me but two hours before) never better than at that present of his own fortunes and ends. Now in this whole matter, there is one main and principal doubt, which doth travel all understandings; that is, Whether this were done without the participation of my Lord of Rochester: A point necessarily infolding two different consequences; for if it were done without his knowledge, we must expect of himself either a decadence or a ruin; if not, we must then expect a reparation by some other great public satisfaction, where of the world may take as much notice. These clouds a few days will clear: In the mean while I dare pronounce of Sir Thomas Overbury, that he shall return no more to this Stage, unless Courts be governed every year by a new Philosophy, for our old Principles will not bear it.  
I have showed my Lord and Lady's Sister your Letter of the 18. of April, who return unto you their affectionate remembrances, and I many thanks for it. The King hath altered his journey to Thetford, and determineth to entertain himself till the progress nearer London. The Queen beginneth her journey upon Saturday towards bath. Neither the marquis di Villa (who cometh from Savoy) nor Don Pedro di Sarmient●… (who shall reside here in the room of the present Spanish Ambassador) are yet either arrived, or near our Coast, though both on the way: So as I can yet but cast towards you a longing, and in truth an envious look from this place of such servility in the getting, and such uncertainty in the holding of fortunes, where methinks we are all overclouded with that sleep of Jacob, when he saw some ascending, and some descending; but that those were Angels, and these are men: For in both, what is it but a Dream? And so, Sir, wishing this Paper in your hands, to whom I dare communicate the freest of my thoughts, I commit you to God's continual Love and Blessings.  
Your faithful poor Friend and Servant, H. WOTTON.  
I pray, Sir, let me in some corner of every Letter tell my sweet Niece that I love her extremely;   

SIR,  
I Have newly received your last of the 25th of April, and acquainted my Lord with the Postscript thereof, touching your father's sickness; of which he had heard somewhat before by Sir R. Drury, who at the same time told him the like of my Lady your Mother. But we hope now, that the one was never true, and that the other (which you confirm) will be light and sufferable, even at heavy years.  
The long expected ambassador from Savoy arrived rived yesternight at Dover: so as now I begin by the virtue of a greedy desire to anticipate before hand, and to devour already some part of that contentment which I shall shortly more really enjoy in your sight and conversation.  
Sir Thomas Overbury is still in the Tower, and the King hath since his imprisonment been twice here, and is twice departed, without any alteration in that matter, or in other greater.  
My Lord of Rochester, partly by some relapse into his late infirmity, and partly (as it is interpreted) through the grief of his mind, is also this second time not gone with the King: some argue upon it, that disassiduity in a favourite, is a degree of declination; but of this there is no appearance: Only I have set it down, to show you the hasty logic of Courtiers.  
The Queen is on her journey towards bath.  
My Lady Elizabeth and the Count Palatine, having lain long in our poor Province of Kent languishing for a Wind, (which, she sees, though it be but a vapour, Princes cannot command) at length on Sunday last towards evening did put to Sea; some eight days after a Book had been Printed and published in London, of her entertainment at Heidelberg; so nimble an Age it is. And because I cannot end in a better jest, I will bid you farewell for this week, committing you, and that most beloved Niece, to God's dearest blessings.  
London this Thursday the 29th. of April, 1613. Your own in faithfullest love, H. WOTTON.   

1613.  
SIR,  
YOur Friend Sir Robert Killigrew hath been committed to the Fleet, for conferring with a close Prisoner in a strange Language: which were (as I hear) the two circumstances that did aggravate his error.  
Of his case whose love drew him into it, I can yet make no judgement: The humour seemeth to be sharp, and there is wisdom enough in those that have the handling of the Patient to manage the matter, so that at length his banishment from the Court may be granted as a point of grace. The nature of his alteration was (as you rightly judge it) in the first access somewhat apoplectical, but yet mingled in my opinion with divers properties of a lethargy; whereof we shall discourse more particularly when we meet, which I now long for, besides other respects, that we may lay aside these Metaphors.  
This very morning shall be heard at the Star-chamber the Case of Sir Peter Buck, an Inhabitant at Rochester, an Officer (as I take it) of the Navy, who hath lain some good while in Prison, for having written to a Friend of his at Dover a Letter containing this news, That some of the Lords had kneeled down to the King for a toleration in Religion: besides some particular aspersion in the said Letter of my Lord Privy Seal; whom likewise of late a Preacher or two have disquieted; whereby he hath been moved besides his own nature, and (as some think also) besides his wisdom, to call these things into public discourse; quae spreta exolescunt, if ancient grave Sentences do not deceive us.  
My Lady of Shrewsbury, my Lord Grace, and the Lady Arabella remain still close Prisoners since their, last restraint, which I signified unto you in a little ticket. Sir William Wade was yesternight put from the Lieutenancy of the Tower.  
I set down these accidents barely, as you see, without their causes; which in truth is a double fault, writing both to a Friend, and to a Philosopher: but my lodging is so near the Star-chamber, that my Pen shakes in my hand: I hope therefore the ambassador of Savoy (who hath already had two Audiences) will quickly be gone, that I may fly to you, and ease my heart. By the next Carrier I shall tell you all his business. In the mean while, and ever, our dear Saviour bless you.  
Your faithful poor Friend to serve you, H. WOTTON. 1613. This Friday morning, May 7. in such haste, that I must leave my dear Niece unanswered, till I can better assemble my spirits, and call the aid of the Muses.   

SIR,  
YOur Kinsman and Friend Sir Robert Killigrew, was in the Fleet from Wednesday of the last week till the Sunday following, and no longer; which I reckon but an Ephemeral fit, in respect of his infirmity who was the cause of it; which to my judgement doth every day appear more and more hectical. Yesterday his Father petitioned the King (as he came from the chapel) that his Son might have a Physician, and a Servant allowed him, as being much damaged in his health by close imprisonment: which for my part I believe, for the diseases of Fortune have a kind of transfusion into the body, and strong working spirits wanting their usual objects, revert upon themselves; because the nature of the mind being ever in motion, must either do or suffer.  
I take pleasure (speaking to a Philosopher) to reduce (as near as I can) the irregularities of Court ●…o constant principles. Now to return to the matter: The King hath granted the Physician, but denied the Servant: by which you may guests at the issue; for when graces are managed so narrowly by a King, otherwise of so gracious nature, it doth in my opinion very clearly demonstrate the asperity of the offence. Sir Gervis Elvis before one of the Pensioners) is now sworn Lieute●…nt of the Tower, by the mediation of the House of Suffolk, notwithstanding that my Lord of Ro●…ster was the commender of Sir john Keys to that charge; which the said Keys had for a good while (and this maketh the case the more strange) always supplied even by Patent in the absence of Sir William Wade. Upon which circumstances (though they seem to bend another way) the Logicians of the Court do make this conclusion; That His Ma●…sty satisfying the Suffolcians with petty things, ●…tendeth to repair the Viscount Rochester in the ●…ain and gross. And therefore all men contem●…ite Sir Henry Nevil for the future Secretary; ●…me saying that it is but deferred till the return of the Queen, that she may be allowed a hand in 〈◊〉 Introduction: Which likewise will quiet the voices on the other side; though surely that point be little necessary: For yet did I never in the Country, and much less in the Court, see any thing done of this kind, that was not afterwards approved by those that had most opposed it: such vicissitudes there are here below, as well as of the rest, even of judgement and affection. I would say more, but I am suddenly surprised by the Secretary of the Savoy ambassador, who I think will departed about the end of the Whitsun holidays, for which I languish. With his businesses I can acquaint you nothing till the next week, by reason of this surprisal: And besides, it hath disturbed my Muses so, I must remain still in debt to my sweet Niece, for that Poetical Postscript that dropped out of her Pen. I do weekly receive your Letters, which in truth are more comfort than I could hope to purchase by mine: so as whereas before I had determined to continue this my troubling of you but till I should see you next, I have now made a resolution to plant a Staple, and whensoever we shall be separated, to venture my whole poor stock in traffic with you, finding the return so gainful unto me. And so committing you to God's dearest blessings, I ever rest,  
May 14. 1613. Your faithfullest poor Friend and Servant, H. WOTTON.   

SIR,  
I Have not yet presented to my Lord that Box which came with your Letter of this week; for he removed on Wednesday with the King and household to Greenwich: And I still remain here, to show you, that the Court doth, like a Loadstone, draw only those that are intra orbem virtutis suae: I mean, within the compass and circle of profit.  
The Savoy Ambassador seemeth in his second Audience to have discharged all his Commission; or otherwise he wanteth authority to proceed further then to a general overture, till the arrival of the Cavalier Battista Gabaleoni, who is hourly expected, and is here to remain as Resident for the said Duke.  
With him likewise come certain other Gentlemen of Title, who should from the beginning have dignified the Ambassadors Train: but the cause of this straggling, was a sudden attempt, which the Duke immediately after the ambassador's departure (who appointed those Gentlemen to follow him) made upon the Marquisat of Monferato, where he surprised three Towns with the Petarde: the first time (as one writeth from Venice) that ever that pestilent invention had been put in practice beyond the Alps.  
The cause of this attempt, was, for that the Cardinal Gonzaga (now Duke●… of Mantua) had yielded to send home the Dowager Infanta to the Duke of Savoy her Father; but would retain her only Child, a Daughter of two years: in whose right the said Duke of Savoy pretendeth colourably enough to the foresaid whole Marquisat; and clearly to all the moveables left by the late Duke of Mantua her Father, who died intestat. Into which point of Law, there entered besides some jealousy of State: being unfit for respects that would have fallen easily into the apprehension of duller Princes than the Italian, to leave a Child out of the custody of her Mother, in his, that was to gain by the death of it: Yet am I of opinion, who have a little contemplated the Duke of Savoy's complexion, that nothing moved him more in this business, than the threaten of the French Queen, who had before commanded Didiguires to fall into the said Duke's estates by way of diversion, if he should meddle with the least Village in the Monserrato: which feminine menacement did no doubt incite him to do it out of the impatience of scorn: And withal, he built silently upon a ground, which could not well fail him; That the King of Spain would never suffer the French soldiers to taste any more of the Grapes and Melons of Lombardy, because L'apetit vient en mangeant: which the issue of the businesses hath proved true; for the Governor of Milan, having raised a tumultuary Army of Horse and Foot, did with it only keep things in stay from farther progress, on both sides, till the agreement was made between the Duke of Mantua himself in Person, and the Prince of Piedmont, within the Town of Milan. The accord is advertised the King from Venice and Paris. The conditions will be better known at the arrival of Gabaleoni, and then likewise we shall see the bottom of this errand, which hath been hitherto nothing, but a general proposition of a match between the same Lady that was formerly offered, and our Prince now living: which the Ambassador hath touched so tenderly, as if he went to manage his master's credit. Upon the whole matter, I cannot conceive (though he seemeth to let fall some phrases of haste) that he will be gone yet this fortnight or three weeks, till when I languish. And so let me end all my Letters, ever resting,  
May 21. 1613. Your faithfullest poor Friend and Servant, H. WOTTON.   

May the 27. SIR,  
I do as unwillingly put my Pen to tell you, as I am sure you will be to hear, what hath befallen my Nephew Albertus this week. He was going on Friday last towards evening in a Coach alone, whose driver alighting (I know not upon what occasion) hard by Charing-Cross, the Horses (being young) took some affrightment, and running away so furiously, that one of them tore all his belly open upon the corner of a Beer Cart; my Nephew (who in this mean while adventured to leap out) seemeth to have hung on one of the pins of the Boot, from whence struggling to get lose, he broke the waistband of his Hose behind, and so fell with the greater violence on the ground, hurting only the hindermost part of his head, by what possibility we cannot conceive, unless the motion of the Coach did turn him round in the fall. The force of the concussion took from him for some hour or thereabouts, the use of his voice and sense, which are now well restored; only, there yet remaineth in his left arm a kind of Paralitical stupefaction, and his right eyelid is all black with some knock that he took in the agitation of the Coach; which peradventure may have been the motive to make him leap out. But these external evils do not so much trouble us, as an inward pungent and pulsatory ache within the skull, somewhat lower than the place of his hurt; which hath continued more or less since his fall, notwithstanding twice letting blood, and some nights of good rest, and shaving of his head for the better transpiration; which we doubt the more, because it cometh sine ratione, his hurt being only in the fles●…y part, and very sleight, without fracture of the skull, without inflammation, without any fever, and all the principal faculties, as memory, discourse, imagination untainted. The King hath in this time much consolated us both with sending unto him, and with expressing publicly a gracious feeling of his case: but we must fetch our true comforts from him, who is Lord of the whole; and so I leave it.  
Since my last unto you, I am sure you hear how Sir Robert Mansfield hath been twice or thrice convented before the Lords, and committed to the Marshalsea; partly for having consulted with Mr. Whitlock the Lawyer about the validity of a Commission drawn for a re-search into the Office of the Admiralty, whereof himself is an accountant; and partly for denying to reveal the name of the said Lawyer his Friend, who before had been committed to the Fleet for another case much of the same nature. The point toucheth a limb of the King's Prerogative, and immediate Authority. Sir Robert Mansfield's Answers (by report) had as much of the Philosopher, or of the hermit, as of the soldier, or Courtier; professing openly his little care of this World, or of his own Fortunes in it: and divers other phrases of that complexion. Sir Thomas Overbury is still where he was, and as he was, without any alteration: The Viscount Rochester yet no way sinking in the point of favour; which are two strange consistents.  
Sir R. Drury runneth at the Ring, corbeteth his Horse before the King's window, haunteth my Lord of Rochester's Chamber, even when himself is not there; and in secret divideth his observances between him and the House of Suffolk: And all this (they say) to be ambassador at Brussels. So as super uta materia, I see appetites are not all of a kind: Some go to the Tower for the avoiding of that which another doth languish to obtain. I will end with my Paper, and by the next Carrier either tell you precisely when I shall see you, or prevent the telling of it. And so our sweet Saviour bless you and my dear Niece.  
H. WOTTON.   

SIR,  
BY the next Carrier (for yet I must say so again) you shall hear when this ambassador will be gone. The mean while let me entertain you with the enclosed Paper, which the Duke of Savoy hath published in his own defence; joining together the Sword and Reason.  
Sir Robert Mansfield is still in restraint. Sir Thomas Overbury not only out of liberty (as he was) but almost now out of Discourse.  
We have lately started at a dispatch from Ireland, importing a variance there, about the choice of a Speaker in the summoned Parliament; which came to so sharp a point, that the Deputy was fain to fetch wisdom from hence. Sure it is, that the humours of that kingdom are very hover, and much awaked with an apprehension taken that we mean to fetter them with Laws of their own making; which in t●…th were an ingenious strain of State. My 〈◊〉 and Lady are stolen down into Kent for a few days to take in some fresh air. They go not this next Progress, if my Brother can get leave of the King to see his grandchildren; where he intends to spend some fortnight, and the rest of the time between Boughton and Canterbury.  
A Match treated and managed to a fair probability between my Lord Cook's Heir, and the second Daughter of Sir Arthur Throckmorton, is suddenly broken; the said Lord Cook having underhand entertained discourse about the Daughter of the late Sir Thomas Bartlet, who in defect of her Brother, shall be Heir of that Name.  
I have nothing more to say; and therefore God keep you and my sweet niece in his continual love.  
Your poor Uncle, faithful Friend, and willing Servant, H. WOTTON.  
Albertus (God be thanked) groweth better and better, and in the midst of his own pains, hath remembered those in Suffolk, whom we both so much honour.   

SIR,  
IN my last I told you, that the Ambassador of Savoy was to meet the Queen at Windsor, which pains she hath spared him by her own coming yesternight to Greenwich, where I think she will settle herself a day or two before she admit him. Now, seeing the time of the Commencement at Cambridge so near as it is, and being able to determine of this ambassador's departure within that space, I have resolved to take those Philosophical exercises in my way to you, hoping in the mean time to see Albertus admitted by Oath to a Clarkship of the Council, or at least to the next vacancy, for he is now strong enough again to swear.  
Sir Robert Mansfield, and Mr. Whitlock were on Saturday last called to a very honourable hearing in the Queen's Presence Chamber at Whitehall before the Lords of the Council, with intervention of my Lord Cook, the Lord chief Baron of the Exchequer, and Master of the Rolls, the Lord chief Justice being kept at home with some infirmity. There the attorney and solicitor first undertook Mr. Whitlock, and the Recorder (as the King's Sergeant) Sir Robert Mansfield; charging the one as a Counsellor, the other as a questioner in matters of the King's Prerogative and sovereignty, upon occasion of a Commission intended for a research into the administration of the Admiralty: against which the said Sir Robert Mansfield (being himself so principal an Officer therein) had sought some provision of advice, and, This was the sum of the charge; which was diversely amplified. Whitlock in his answer, spoke more confusedly, than was expected from a Lawyer, and the Knight more temperately, than was expected from a soldier. There was likewise some difference noted, not only in the manner, but in the substance between them: For Whitlock ended his speech with an absolute confession of his own offence, and with a promise of employing himself hereafter in defence of the King's prerogative. Sir Robert Mansfield on the other side, laboured to distinguish between the error of his acts, and the integrity of his zeal and affection towards the King his Master: protesting he should hold it the greatest glory under Heaven to die at his feet, and that no man living should go before him, if there were occasion to advance his dominions; with some other such Martial strains, which became him well. The conclusion of his speech had somewhat of the Courtier, beseeching the Lords, if the restraint he had endured were not in their judgements a sufficient punishment of his error, that then they would continue it as long as it should please them, and add unto it any other affliction of pain or shame whatsoever; provided that afterwards he might be restored again into his majesty's favour, and their good opinions. To tell you what they all severally said that day, were to rob from the liberty of our discourse when we shall meet. In this they generally agreed, both Counsellors and Judges, to represent the humiliation of both the Prisoners unto the King in lieu of innocency, and to intercede for his gracious pardon Which was done; and accordingly the next day they were enlarged upon a submission under writing. This is the end of that business, at which were present as many as the room could contain, and men of the best quality; whom the King was desirous to satisfy, not only about the point in hand, but in some other things that were occasionally awaked; which I likewise reserve to our private freedom.  
The King's Officers are returned from my Lady Elizabeth; whom they left at Goltzheime the last of May, where His majesty's expense did cease. This place was chosen for her consignment in stead of Bacherach, suspected of contagion. She was at Andernach feasted by the Elector of Cullen; at Confluence, or Cobolentz (as they call it) by the other of Trier; and at Mentz by the third of those ecclesiastic Potentates, very Royally and kindly, and (which was less expected) very handsomely. The Count Maurice, and his Brother with troops of Horse, and a guard of Foot, accompanied her to Cullen, and entered themselves into that City with her: (I need not tell you, that though themselves were within, the Horse, and most of the Foot were without the Walls) which is here (by the wiser sort of Interpreters) thought as hazardous an act, as either of them both had done in the heat of war; and indeed no way justifiable in foro sapientiae. And therefore such adventures as these must appeal ad forum Providentiae; where we are all covered by his vigilant mercy and love: to which I commit you, and my sweet niece in my hearty prayers.  
Your faithful poor Friend, Uncle, and Servant, H. WOTTON.   

SIR,  
I Send you a sprig of some Flowers, which I have newly received out of Piedmont, in Winter and Summer the same; and therein an excellent type of a Friend.  
I am bold likewise to keep myself in the memory of my niece, till I see her, with a poor pair of Gloves of the newest fashion:  
Inventore Henrico Wottono, Sculptore Crocio. The 18. of June, 1613.   

Friday the 25. June, 1613. SIR,  
I Told you in my last, that I would take the Commencement at Cambridge in my way towards you, where I shall be God willing to morrow seven-night. This I now repeat, to save the telling of it again by the next Carrier, foreseeing that I shall then be impatient of so much delay as a line of mine own effusion, which even now doth torture me, while I contemplate some of those green Banks (that you mention) where when I have you by me (to express my contentment in the Italian phrase) Non scrivero all Papa fratello. The Ambassador of Savoy departed yesterday, making much haste homewards, or at least much show of it; where he is likely to come timely enough to the warming of his hands at that fire which his Master hath kindled; whose nature in truth doth participate much of the flint, as well as his state. But is not all this out of my way? Sir, Believe it, my spirits do boil, and I can hold my Pen no longer then till I have wished all god's blessings to be with you, and with that best niece of the World.  
Your poor Uncle, and faithful Servant, H. WOTTON.  
Albertus was yesterday with me at the Court. And though there be great disproportion in the space, yet I dare conclude, that as much strength as did carry him to Greenwich, will bear him to Redgrave.   

july 2. 1613. SIR,  
WHereas I written unto you, that I would be at Cambridge as on Saturday next; I am now cast off again till the King's return to London, which will be about the middle of the week following. The delay grows from a desire of seeing Albertus his business settled before we come unto you, where we mean to forget all the world besides. Of this we shall bring you the account.  
Now, to let matters of State sleep, I will entertain you at the present with what hath happened this week at the Banks side. The King's Players had a new Play, called All is true, representing some principal pieces of the reign of Henry 8. which was set forth with many extraordinary circumstances of Pomp and Majesty, even to the matting of the Stage; the Knights of the Order, with their Georges and Garter, the Guards with their embroidered Coats, and the like: sufficient in truth within a while to make greatness very familiar, if not ridiculous. Now, King Henry making a Masque at the Cardinal Wolsey's House, and certain Canons being shot off at his entry, some of the Paper, or other stuff wherewith one of them was stopped, did light on the Thatch, where being thought at first but an idle smoke, and their eyes more attentive to the show, it kindled inwardly, and ran round like a train, consuming within less than an hour the whole House to the very grounds.  
This was the fatal period of that virtuous fabric; wherein yet nothing did perish, but Wood and Straw, and a few forsaken Cloaks; only one man had his Breeches set on fire, that would perhaps have broiled him, if he had not by the benefit of a provident wit put it out with bottle Ale. The rest when we meet: till when, I protest every minute is the siege of Troy. God's dear blessings till then and ever be with you.  
Your poor Uncle and faithful Servant, H. WOTTON.  
I have this week received your last of the 27, of June, wherein I see my steps lovingly calculated, and in truth too much expectation of so unworthy a guest.   

Novemb. 5. 1613. SIR,  
NOw I begin: but why not before? That question shall be answered by the next Carrier or by a special Messenger the next week, at which time you shall have an account of all that hath passed, and some prognostication also upon the future: for my Pen is grown bold and eager with rest, as Dogs that are tied up.  
At the present all my care is to let you know that I have received your last, with the enclosed; which although I well understand myself, yet I have not had time since the deciphering to acquaint the party with it, which shall be done as soon as I have sealed this, and sent it to the Carriers.  
I thought now to have said no more; but lest it lose the grace of freshness, I pray let me tell you, that yesterday morning the Viscount Rochester was very solemnly in the Banqueting hall in the sight of many great ones and small ones, created Earl of Somerset; and in the afternoon, for a farther honouring and signalizing of the day, my Lord Cook (brought in by the said Earl) was sworn a Privy Counsellor; to counterpoise the difference of the profit between the Common-pleas, and the King's Bench.  
I will turn over the leaf though I die for it, to remember the heartiest love of my soul to that good Niece, to that sweet Niece; to whom I have much to say by the next opportunity. Our dear Saviour keep you both in his continual love.  
Your faithful Servant, H. WOTTON.  
Touching the project of our House, believe it Sir, I boil in it; and am ready to begin again, that I may tell you how busy I have been in the matter; but let this also be put over till the following week, which is likely to fall heavy upon you.  
Written on the day of our great Preservation, for which our God be ever glorified.   

On Tuesday the 16th. of November. SIR,  
AN express Messenger will ease us both of the trouble of a cipher: but I was in pain whether I should send another, or be that Messenger myself, being now as near you as Royston, and scant able to obtain pardon of mine own severity for not passing farther; yet this may be said for me, that the present occasion required little noise; and besides, I am newly engaged into some business, whereof I will give you a particular account, when I shall first have discharged that part which belongeth to yourself.  
My Lord, my Brother, having been acquainted with the matter enclosed in your last to me, dispatched the very next day Mr. Pen down to Boughton, for such writings as had passed at your marriage; which having consulted with his Lawyers, he found those things to stand in several natures, according to the annexed Schedule.  
For the point of your coming up, he referreth that to your own heart; and I have only charge from him to tell you, that without any such occasion as this, which seemeth to imply your affectionate respect of his Daughter, your own Person and conversation shall be ever most welcome and dear unto him.  
As for my Lady, through whose knowledge, and myself, through whose hands you have passed this point of confidence, if you could behold us, and compare us with my Lord, you should see, though no difference in the reality, yet some in the fashion. For to him you must allow the sober forms of his age and place; but we on the other side are mad with gladness, at the hope we have now taken by this occasion of enjoying both you and my Niece this Winter at London; and we are contented to profess it as profusely as it is possible for a better Pen to set it down: Nay, for my part (who in this case have somewhat single) I flatter myself yet farther, that the Term (whereof not much now remaineth) will accelerate your coming; which if you resolve, I pray then let me only by this Bearer know it, that I may provide you some fit Lodgings at a good distance from White-Hall, for the preservation of blessed liberty, and avoidance of the cumber of kindness; which in troth (as we have privately discoursed) is no small one. Now touching myself.  
It may please you, Sir, to understand, That the King, when he was last at Hampton, called me to him, and there acquainted me with a general purpose that he had to put me again into some use. Since which time, the French Ambassador (and very lately) having at an Audience of good length besought His Majesty (I know not whether voluntarily, or set on by some of our own) to disincumber himself of frequent accesses by the choice of some confident Servant, to whom the said Ambassador might address himself in such occurrences as did not require the King's immediate ear. It pleased him to nominate me for that charge, with more gracious commendation than it can beseem me to repeat, though I write to a Friend in whose breast I dare depose even my vanities. But lest you should mistake, as some others have been apt to do here, in the present constitution of the Court (which is very ombragious) the King's end in this application of me, I must tell you, that it is only for the better preparing of my insufficiency and weakness for the succeeding of Sir Thomas Edmunds in France; towards which His Majesty hath thought meet first to endue me with some knowledge of the French businesses, which are in motu. And I think my going thither will be about Easter.  
Thus you see (Sir) both my next remove, and the exercise of my thoughts till then; wherewith there is joined this comfort, besides the redemption from expense and debt at home (which are the Gulfs that would swallow me) that His Majesty hath promised to do something for me before I go.  
I should now, according to the promise of my last, tell you many things, wherewith my Pen is swollen; but I will beg leave to defer them till the next opportunity after my coming to London: And they shall all give place now to this one question; Whether there be any thing in this intended journey, that you will command? Which having said, I will end; ever resting  
Your faithfullest poor Friend and Servant, H. WOTTON.   

June 8. 1614 SIR,  
IT is both morally and naturally true, that I have never been in perfect health and cheerfulness since we parted; but I have entertained my mind, when my body would give me leave, with the contemplation of the strangest thing that ever I beheld, commonly called in our Language (as I take it) a Parliament: which hath produced nothing but inexplicable Riddles, in the place of Laws. For first, it is aborted before it was born, and nullified after it had a being; insomuch as the Count Palatine (whose naturalisation was the only thing that passed in both Houses) is now again an Alien. And whereas all other Parliaments have had some one eminent quality that hath created a denomination; some being called in our Records mad Parliaments, some merciless, and the like: This I think from two properties almost insociable or seldom meeting, may be termed the Parliament of greatest diligence, and of least resolution that ever was, or ever will be; For our committees were as well attended commonly, as full Houses in former Sessions, and yet we did nothing, neither in the forenoon nor after; whereof I can yield you no reason but this one, that our diversions were more than our main purposes; and some of so sensible nature, as took up all our reason, and all our passion, in the pursuit of them. Now, Sir, what hath followed since the dissolution of this Civil Body, let me rather tell you, then lead you back into any particularities of that which is passed.  
It pleased His Majesty the very next morning to call to examination, before the Lords of His Council, divers Members of the House of Commons, for some Speeches better becoming a Senate of Venice, where the Treaters are perpetual Princes, then where those that speak so irreverently, are so soon to return (which they should remember) to the natural capacity of Subjects. Of these Examinants', four are committed close Prisoners to the Tower: 1. Sir Walter Chute: 2. John Hoskins: 3. One Wentworth a Lawyer: And 4. Mr. Christopher Nevil, second Son to my Lord of Abergaveny.  
The first made great shift to come thither: For having taken in our House some disgrace in the matter of the Undertakers (of whom he would fain have been thought one) to get the opinion of a bold man, after he had lost that of a wise; he fell one morning into a declamation against the times, so insipid, and so unseasonable, as if he had been put but out of his place for it of Carver, (into which one of my Lord admiral's Nephews is sworn) I should not much have pitied him, though he be my countryman. The second is in for more wit, and for licentiousness baptised freedom: For I have noted in our House, that a false or faint Patriot did cover himself with the shadow of equal moderation; and on the other side, irreverent discourse was called honest liberty: so as upon the whole matter, No excesses want precious names. You shall have it in Pliny's language, which I like better than mine own translation; Nullis vitiis desunt pretiosa nomina.  
The third is a silly and simple creature, God himself knows: and though his Father was by Queen Elizabeth at the time of a Parliament likewise put into the place where the Son now is; yet hath he rather inherited his fortune, than his understanding. His fault was, the application of certain Texts in Ezekiel and Daniel, to the matter of impositions; and saying, that the French King was killed like a Calf, with such like poor stuff: against which the French Ambassador (having gotten knowledge of it) hath form a complaint, with some danger of his wisdom.  
The last is a young Gentleman, fresh from the School, who having gathered together divers Latin Sentences against Kings, bound them up in a long Speech, and interlarded them with certain Ciceronian exclamations; as, O Tempora, O Mores.— Thus I have a little run over these accidents unto you, enough only to break out of that silence which I will not call a symptom of my sickness, but a sickness itself. Howsoever, I will keep it from being hectical; and hereafter give you a better account of mine own observations. This week I have seen from a most dear Niece a Letter, that hath much comforted one Uncle, and a Postscript the other. Long may that hand move, which is so full of kindness. As for my particular, Take heed of such invitations, if you either love or pity yourselves: For I think there was never Needle touched with a Loadstone that did more incline to the North, than I do to Redgrave. In the mean time, we are all here well; and so our Lord Jesus preserve you there.  
Your faithfullest poor Friend and Servant, H. WOTTON.  
Sir, I pray remember my hearty affection to my Cousin Nicolas Bacon, and all joy to the new conjoined. I shall propound unto you the next week a very possible problem, unto which if you can devise how to attain: Non scriveremo all Papa, fratello.   

London, June 16. 1614 SIR,  
THe Earl of Northampton, having after a lingering fever, spent more spirits than a younger body could well have born, by the incision of a wennish tumour grown on his thigh, yesternight between eleven and twelve of the Clock departed out of this world: where, as he had proved much variety and vicissitude of fortune in the course of his life, so peradventure he hath prevented another change thereof by the opportunity of his end: For there went a general voice through the Court on Sunday last, upon the commitment of Doctor Sharp, and Sir Charles Cornwallis to the Tower, that he was somewhat implicated in that business; whereof I will give you a little account at the present, as far as I have been hitherto able to penetrate. John Hoskins (of whose imprisonment I written unto you by the last Carrier) having at a re-examination been questioned, whether he well understood the consequence of that Sicilian vesper, whereunto he had made some desperate allusion in the House of Parliament, made answer (and I think very truly) that he had no more than a general information thereof, being but little conversant in those Histories that lay out of the way of his profession: whereupon being pressed to discover whence he then had received this information, since it lay not within his own reading; he confessed to have had it from Doctor Sharp, who had infused these things into him, and had solicited him to impress them in the Parliament: And further, that Hoskins hereupon demanding what protection he might hope for, if afterwards he were called into question; the said Doctor should nominate unto him, besides others, (whose names I will spare) that Earl who hath now made an end of all his reckon: assuring him of his assistance by the means of Sir Charles Cornwallis, with whom the Doctor was conjoined in this practice. Thus came Sir Charles into discovery: who being afterward confronted with the Doctor himself, though he could not (as they say) justify his own Person, yet did he clear my Lord of Northampton from any manner of understanding with him therein upon his Salvation: which yet is not enough (as I perceive among the People) to sweep the dust from his Grave. Thus you see (Sir) the natural end of a great Man, and the accidental ruin of others, which I had rather you should see in a Letter, then as I did on Sunday at Greenwich: where it grieved my soul to behold a grave and learned Divine, and a Gentleman of good hopes and merits, carried away in the face of the whole Court, with most dejected countenances, and such a greediness at all windows to gaze at unfortunate spectacles.  
The Earl of Northampton hath made three of his Servants his Executors, with a very vast power, as I hear; and for Overseers of his Will, my L. of Suffolk, my L. of Worcester, and my L. William Haward: To the Earl of Arundel he left all his Land (which will amount to some 3000 l. of yearly revenue) besides three or four hundred to Mr. Henry Haward, whereof he had before assured him at the time of his marriage; but neither of them to enjoy a penny thereof as yet this eight year: all which time he intendeth the fruits of his estate shall be collected and distributed in legacies and pious uses according to his will, which hath not yet been seen: but thus much as I have told you was understood before his expiration. To my Lord of Suffolk he hath left his House, but hath disposed of all the moveables and furniture from him: And it is conceived, that he died in some distasteful impression, which he had taken against him upon the voices that ran of my Lord of Suffolk's likelihood to be Lord Treasurer; which place will now assuredly fall upon him; and the world doth contemplate my Lord of Rochester for Lord Privy Seal, and Lord Warden of the five Ports. As for the Lord Chamberlainship, it is somewhat more questionable between my Lord of Pembroke, the Duke of Lenox, and my Lord Knowls. A few days will determine these ambitions. In the mean time, I commit you, who have better objects, to the contemplation of them, and to the mercy of our loving God in all your ways.  
Your faithfullest poor Friend and Servant. H. WOTTON.  
Sir, I have (I know not how) mislayed the Character which I left you, therefore I pray send me in your very next a Copy. Therefore I have deferred the matter which I am to propound unto you, till the next week, because I must send you some Ore of Lead, and Iron withal, which I have ●…ot yet gotten.  
Is there no room left for the remembrance of that ●…ar niece? God forbidden. And I pray, Sir, tell ●…r besides, that a certain Uncle here (whom yet I ●…ill not suffer to love her better than myself) doth greedily expect some news from her.   

On Midsummer Morning, 1614 SIR,  
LIke a Woman great with Child, I have threatened you almost every week with a proposition of profit; in which kind of breed, methinks I am of hard birth: but I hope to be brought to bed by the next Carrier. This week hath yet yielded ●…n the public small effects to entertain you withal; ●…nly, some change of opinion about the future great Officers, which are now thus discoursed.  
The Earl of Suffolk is still beheld as a Lord Treasurer, and that conjecture hath never fainted ●…nce the very first rising of it. But it is thought, that the dignity of Privy Seal shall lie vacant as it did in the Cecilian times, and that the execution thereof with the title of Lord Chamberlain, shall be laid on my Lord of Somerset; for if my Lord of Suffolk should remove from the King's Privacy to a place of much distraction and cumber, without leaving a friend in his room, he might peradventure take cold at his back: which is a dangerous thing in a Court, as Ruygomezde silva was wont to say, that great Artisan of Humours. Of the Office of Five Ports, I dare yet pronounce nothing. My Lord, my Brother, will none of it (as I heard him seriously say) though it were offered him, for reasons which he reserveth in his own breast: yet the late Northampton did either so much esteem it, or thought himself to receive so much estimation from it, as he hath willed his Body to be laid in the Castle of Dover.  
Chute, Hoskins, Sharp, and Sir Charles Cornwallis are still in the Tower, and I like not the complexion of the place. Out of France, we have the death of Dr. Carrier, whose great imaginations abroad have had but a short period. And so, Sir, commending you, and that dearest niece, to Gods continual blessings and love, I rest,  
Your own in faithfullest affection, H. WOTTON.   

The 7. of June, Style of the place, 1615. SIR,  
I Hear a little voice that you are come to London, which to me is the voice of a nightingale; for since I cannot enjoy your presence, I make myself happy with your nearness: And yet now, methinks, I have a kind of rebellion against it, that we should be separated with such a contemptible distance. For how much I love you, mine own heart doth know; and God knoweth my heart. But let me fall into a passion: For what sin, in the Name of Christ, was I sent hither among soldiers, being by my profession, Academical, and by my Charge, Pacifical? I am with●… a day or two to send Cisthbert my Servant home, ●…y whom I shall tell you divers things. In the ●…ean while, I have adventured these few lines, ●…o break the Ice of silence; for in truth, it is a ●…old fault. Our sweet Saviour bless you.  
Servidore, Arrigo Wottoni.  
My hot love to the best niece of the World.   

SIR,  
AMong those that have deep interest in whatsoever can befall you, I am the freshest wit●…ss of your unexpressible affections to my most ●…ar niece; whom God hath taken from us into ●…s eternal Light and rest; where we must leave 〈◊〉, till we come unto her. I should think my ●…lf unworthy for ever of that love she bore me, ●…in this case I were fit to comfort you. But it is ●…t only God who can reconsolate us both: who when he hath called now one, and then ●…other of his own Creatures unto himself, will ●…clasp the final Book of his Decrees, and dis●…lve the whole. For which I hope he will ra●…er teach us to thirst and languish, then to re●…ne at particular dissolutions. I had in a pe●…liar affliction of mine own (all within the ●…pass of little time) much consolation from 〈◊〉; which cannot but be now present with ●…our self; for I am well acquainted with the ●…ength of your Christian mind.  
Therefore being kindly invited by the good Master of the Rolls to write by his express Messenge●… unto you; let me (without further discourse o●… our griefs) only join in this with him, to wis●… your company divided between him and me.  
We will contemplate together when we meet ou●… future blessedness, and our present uncertainties 〈◊〉 And I am afraid we shall find too much argument t●… drown our private feelings in the public solicitude. God's love, wherein is all joy, be with us.  
From Westminst. this 16. April, 1626. Your ever true and hearty Servant, H. WOTTON.   

From the college the 14. of Decemb. 1628. SIR,  
I Have received from London the favourable lines wherewith you honoured me then near your departure; which you have somewhat allayed, with the promise of your return at the beginning of the next Term, which consorteth well with a change of my purpose to Christmas in Kent, born in me as I was reading your Letter: For what should I do there in such haste after the Nuptials, when I shall come so as well in Lent? Much ado there hath been towards the point of conclusion; like that Aphorism of Hippocrates: Nox ante Chris●… est molestissima. love's being in this like fevers, as well as in the rest; for one definition will serve them both: Cordis accensio.  
jack Dinely is not yet arrived, but we expect him daily as Messenger from the Queen his Mistress, of her late happy delivery, after a foul report that had been maliciously thrown abroad of her miscarriage by a fall. The Doctor likewise as yet hath given me no answer; but I will quicken him, and put life I hope into the business.  
Now, let me tell you, That the noble Sir Ger●…se Clifton (as in good faith he is in ipsis visceribus) hath been lately here with us, at a time when he hath been content to be entertained with the pastimes of children; a Latin and a Greek Hippolytus. How often you were remembered between us, is harder for me to tell you, than I hope for you to believe. Among other discourse he shown me a little excrescence that he hath beginning upon the uttermost ball of his eyes, a filmy matter, like the rudiment of a Pin and Web as they call it. Whereupon fell into my memory a secret that Mr. Bohan had told me his Mother knew: How to take away that evil in growth, and perchance much more in the infancy, with a Medicine applied only to the Wrists. And I have heard yourself likewise speak of a rare thing for that part. I beseech you (Sir) be pleased with all possible speed to entreat that receipt from Mr. Bohan, to whom we shall both be much beholden for it. And Sir Gervase Clifton is already so possessed, that he both says and thinks, that nothing will cure him better than that which any way shall come through your hand unto him. No peace as yet with either of the Kings: The more wished I think with France, the likelier perchance with Spain. No Offices disposed in Court. No Favourite but the Lord Treasurer. More news in my next. For the present, God keep you in his dear love.  
Servidore, H. WOTTON.   

To the Queen of Bohemia.  
[The beginning is wanting.]  
— YEt my mind and my spirits give me, against all the combustions of the World, that before I die I shall kiss again your Royal hand, in as merry an hour as when I last had the honour to wait upon your gracious eyes at Heidelberge.  
I will now take the boldness to conclude my poor lines with a private and humble suit unto your Majesty; which I bring with me out of Suffolk from Sir Edmund Bacon's House, and that whole Family; among whom your majesty's name and virtues are in singular admiration.  
There is of that House a young Plant of some sixteen years, well natured, and well moulded both for face and limbs, and one of the bravest spirited boys in Christendom. It is their joint ambition, and they have made me their Intercessor, that your Majesty would be pleased to take him for one of your Pages. They want not means otherways to bestow him, but their zeal towards your Majesty, and their judgements guide them to this humble desire, for his more virtuous and noble nurture. And lest the ordinary number of your majesty's Attendants in that kind, being perhaps full, might retard their hope of this high favour, I have commission to assure your Majesty, that their meaning is not to aggravate your charge, for he shall have yearly a competent provision allowed to maintain him in good fashion. If my Niece Bacon, of dearest memory, were alive, (whom God took, not long after my nephew Albertus, into his eternal Bliss) I am sure she would join in this suit unto your Majesty, that all Sexes might enter into the Obligation: But it is your Majesties own goodness, from which only we can hope for a favourable Answer. And so with all our Prayers, and with my particular obliged devotion, I most humbly commit your Majesty to God's reserved Blessings, and continual Love, ever resting,  
Your majesty's poor Servant, in all truth and zeal, H. WOTTON.   

On the 6. of March 1628. SIR,  
I Beseech you let these lines, with as much affection, though with less civility, convey my good wishes after you, which I should myself have brought before your departure.  
You seem to have left the Town somewhat Prophetically, not to be near the noise of a very unhappy morning on Monday last; at which time the Parliament assembling again (which you know had been silenced till that day) was then re-adjourned by the King's especial Command till Tuesday next: Whereupon the Lower-House fell into such heat (one passion begetting another) that the Speaker (who as discharged by the Royal Power, did refuse to read a kind of Remonstrance which Sir john Eliott had provisionally set down in Paper) was forced into the Chair. It is strange to consider the lubricity of popular favour: For he that before during this whole Session (if so we may call it) and the former, was so highly commended, and even in this very act by some of the soundest and soberest of the House; yet with the general Body is so stripped of all his credit in a moment, that I have hardly seen in any chemical work such a precipitation. What hath ensued, will be better told you by this good Captain. Some think the Parliament doth yet hang upon a thread, and may be stitched again together: But, that is an airy conceit in my opinion; yet the peace of Italy, and the preparations of France against us, are voiced so strongly, that I verily believe we shall have a new summons.  
The States of the low Provinces have since their Western great Prize, newly taken a Careck out of the East, of huge value: so as their acts are, Sub utroque sonantia Phoebo.  
I have not yet sent those Verses to Mrs. Katherine Stanhope, that she may rather have them in the second Edition: For the Author hath licked them over, and you shall have a new Copy sent you by the next Carrier. We have met together once or twice since your going loco solito; but like a disjointed company, wanting one of our best pieces: God send us often cheerfully together; and so I rest.  
Your hearty Servant, H. W.  
When jack Dinely shall return out of Lincolnshire, I will give you an account what I writ by him to the Queen of Bohemia about your Spiritous Nephew. And I will not forget to rouse the Doctor it Cambridge in the charitable intention. I pray remember my service to your whole name, and to my Noble Cousin Sir Drue: To whom I will write the next week.   

SIR,  
I Know that between us there needs little compliment; for which I am for my part so unproper and so unmoulded, that I often neglect even civil duties; as well appeared by my coming from London without taking leave of you: but yet I cannot be wanting unto yourself, nor to the least of your name in any real service, for that were too much violence to my nature; therefore before my coming from Westminster, I wrote such Letters to the Queen of Bohemia, about your Spiritous Frank (as I hope, together with the good offices of the bearer thereof) will place him with the Prince of Orange when he hath taken the Buss. I could have wished that his lively blood had been a little fleshed at that siege. But jack Dinelies long stay at London for his dispatch, and at Gravesend for a wind, hath lost us time. We hear that the King of Spain upon the peazing of his affairs in Italy (where a palm of ground importeth him more than a Province abroad) was resolved to make the marquis Spinola Governor of Milan, and that the Count Henry Vanden Berge should command the Armies in chief under the Infanta. If this be so, there will be there Bella plusquam Civilia, for you know he is near of blood to the Prince of Orange, though he hath some a little nearer; for he hath one or two by his own Sister, as I remember they told me in his Town of Maestrick. The other employment of the marquis, is a Counsel, plainly taken rather from necessity then reason. For otherwise jealousy of State would hardly commit so much power to a genoveses in the Confines of his own Country, unless I have forgotten my foreign Maxims.  
I have my head towards Kent, with a hope to see you first there, and afterwards at our Election: which will be the third of August. And so with my humble and hearty remembrance to that best of Men, and noblest of Ladies, I rest  
This Monday night late. 1629. Il suisceratissi manente vostro, H. WOTTON.   

SIR,  
ALthough I intent to write again speedily, and at a little more ease unto you by James, and then to send you and Sir Gervase Clifton the Copy of a Letter, which Giovanni tells me you both desire: yet lest you should send over your Frank (who hath from you all his sails and fraught) without part of his ballast from me, I have hastened the enclosed Letters unto your hand, with the Copy of mine to the Queen of Bohemia: the other are ad hanc formam. I could wish that he would begin with jack Dinely, and slide first unseen to Leyden; who will bring him thence to the Queen, and acquaint him with all due respects.  
I have written to the Countess of Levistain to cherish him also: a great and assiduous Lady with the Queen, and by Title, my noble Secretary. This is all that I need say at the present. Doctor sharp and I do threaten you the next Christmas. In the mean while  
From the college this Tuesday. 1629. Your humble Servant, H. WOTTON. Optimo virorum; and to his most worthy Lady. S.   

SIR,  
THe very truth is, your love hath prevented me: for I meant by Giovanni to give you some account of what hath passed since our divorcement. When I had slept half an hour after you were gone from Darford, I found myself fresco come una rosa: but I awaked in a strange dream, that had seldom before befallen me in an Inn; finding nothing to be paid, not so much as for mine own Horses: whereby the reason was plain of the paleness of my water which you observed; for none of the tincture of my gold was gone into the reckoning of the drink, as you had handled the matter.  
At the top of Shooters-hill my footman stayed, as if he had been watching the Beacon rather than for me; and told me there were good provisions made at Sir Adam Newtons' for you and me, with kind expectation of us both. But myself being desirous to reach Eton that night, as I did, (for my horses I see travel best upon another man's purse) I blanched the house, and sent thither by Giovanni a fair excuse. True it is, we are much of a humour: Cento Bue will hardly draw us in a journey to any strange place.  
At that time likewise Will brought me a Letter from Mr. Griffith, which had been expressly sent to Gr●…esend the night before: whereby I saw Giovanni had taken a false alarm; for he was not to be gone till the Monday morning following: so as I have had time to ballast him with Letters. And I have intimated beforehand to your Jack Dinely, your purpose to pass over the spiritous Frank as soon as you can trick him. We are now towards the Festival of our Election; wherein annually I make a shift to lose four or five Friends, and yet do myself no good; so as they are angry with me on the one side, and they laugh at me on the other.  
I apprehend this year a great poverty of Venison with us: for I came too late to exchange your Warrant; and my Lady Throckmortons will not serve my turn.  
Since my coming, Mr. Turvil, a French practical man, of good erudition, hath passed a day or two with me, from whom I hear a shrewd point: That the oath of peace (which should have been taken between the two neighbouring Kings upon the same day) is put off for a month: I believe the stop be in France, to gain time to disturb our Treaty with Spain.  
Mr. Pim (a man whose ears are open) told me likewise yesterday a strange thing, that the Queen of Bohemia hath newly, being hunting, been chased away herself with some affrightment from Rhenen by certain Troops of the enemy that have passed the Isel. With whom it was feared the Count Henry Venden Borge would join, and ravage the Fellow Yet withal were come tidings, that the Prince of Orange at the Buss had had parley offered him. But my intelligences are Cistern-waters, you are nearer the Fountain. And not only, Dulcius ex ipso Fonte bibuntur aquae, but verius too., For both will stand in the verse.  
Before I end, let me beseech you, to remember my humble and hearty devotion (in the very style of Seneca to his Lucilius, and I shall need to say no more) Optimo Virorum. I envy your enjoyments and conversations, and most when they are privatest, for than they are freest. I hope the Noble Lady will return quickly again to her Hesperian Garden: To whom, I pray, likewise let my humble service be remembered. And so I rest,  
From the college this Wednesday night, 1629. Excepto quod non simul esses, caetera laetus; H. WOTTON.   

To the Queen of Bohemia.  
May it please your Majesty.  
THis Bearer is that Lad, by name Frank Bacon, for whom your majesty's intercession with the Prince of Orange, hath bound so many unto you here. It is your goodness that hath done it, and therefore he is addressed by his Friends (and by me who am the meanest of them) first thorough your Gracious hands, and laid down at your Royal feet.  
There is in him (I believe) metal enough to be cast into good form: and I hope it is of the noblest sort, which is ever the most malleable and pliant. Only one thing I fear, that coming from a Country life, into the lustre of Courts, he will be more troubled with it, then with the hissing of Bullets.  
Now when I consider (as I do at the present) that besides your majesty's ancienter favours towards me, and to them that have been, and are so dear unto me; some gone, and some remaining: you have lately received the Child of my very worthy Friend, Mr. Griffith, about the Prince your Son, and honoured this other with your especial recommendation, in such a forcible and express manner as you were pleased to do it: I say; when I consider all this, I cannot but fall into some passionate questions with mine own heart. Shall I die without seeing again my Royal Mistress myself? Shall I not rather bring her my most humble thanks, then let them thus drop out of a dull Pen? Shall such a contemptible distance, as between Eton and the Hague, divide me from beholding how her virtues overshine the darkness of her fortune? I could spend much paper in this passion, but let it sleep for the present: And God bless your Majesty.  
August 16. 1629. As I am Yours, H. WOTTON.  
After this humble and just acknowledgement of my obligations unto your Majesty, it were a miserable thing for me to tell you, that at our late Election, I have remembered your Commandment in the first place, I should indeed rather ask what your Majesty will have next done.   

My noble Nephew,  
I Am sorry that your Cast of Bucknames cannot be served at this Election: for to choose one of them (and that must have been in a low place) had been uncomfortable, they will fly best at ease together. Yet I have thought of a way the next year, in all event not to fail; which is, to divide them between Westminster and Eton. Their Election precedeth ours some three weeks; and truly upon my late observation there, I must needs say, that School mouldeth good scholars, and of certainer preferment to either of the Universities (for some go to Oxford, and some to Cambridge) than this; out of which the issue is always hard, and the entrance not always▪ easy. Glad I am to hear by your Letter, that you have gotten so good a schoolmaster, that they may be well mewed in the mean while. Betwixt this and the next turn, I shall lay you down an infallible course for them. And this must content their good Father at the present.  
If your mason's Brother (who was here on Sunday) had stayed till the next morning, there was some practicable hope to have sped the Boy this year to Cambridge, but some unfortunate haste, and despair of so many places as fell open, carried him away.  
If you had not intimated your own coming to London, you might perchance have been troubled with me in the Country: But I will now languish for the hour you promise this place of seeing you here; where your Venison (which we enjoy by exchange from Master Vice-Chamberlain hath given us all occasion to remember you thankfully, as a Benefactor to this Board. I will entertain you with no home-novelties; but let me tell you a fresh piece of no small noise from abroad. The King of Sweden hath landed with 200 Ships a great Army of some 40000 in Germany, with intention (if the Party of our Religion be not all drowsy) to redress the common Cause; or at least, to redintegrate his near Kinsman in Meckleburge, confiscated, you know, by the Emperor: And the opportunity is fair, while the Austrian power is diverted for the help of Spain into Italy. God bless it, and cherish it as his own business; and in his dear love I leave you: Ever remaining,  
From your college this 27. July, 1630. Your faithful Servant, H. WOTTON. As intricate as a Flea in a bottom of Flax.  
Sir,  
I will write to you at large after our Election, when my Brains are settled.   

Noble Sir, and my most dear Nephew.  
WE were for three weeks together so besieged at your Eton, first with an overflow of water from the West, and then with a deep Snow out of the East, (contrary quarters conspiring against us) that our ordinary Boats, which usually go and return twice a week, could not pass under the Bridges: whereby such a Letter from you as never man received, lay silent at my Chamber in St. Martins-lane till mine own coming to London; to the utter condemnation of my unthankfulness in the mean time: Which truly I should fear, but that it is the natural property of the same heart, to be a gentle Interpreter, which is so noble an Obliger.  
Now, Sir, After I had received and read your Letter, I took some days to deliberate what I should do, and to let my judgement settle again which was distracted with so kind a surprisal: should I use a feathered quill to write unto you? or fly myself to Redgrave? for you had given me wings. At last, I resolved upon both. First, to make this true protestation by writing from my very bowels where it is engraven. That though your bounty (considered in all the circumstances, as well the form, as the matter, and the very opportunity of the time wherein it came, and especially without any imaginable pretence of desert in myself) hath been such, as never befell me before, nor can ever befall me again: yet have you therewith not enriched, but stripped and despised me for ever: Nothing that was before, either in my power or possession, being after this mine own: for it is all yours, if it were both the Indies. So as your kindness howsoever flowing from a tender affection: yet is with me like hard wax, dropped and sealed together.  
The next after this, shall be to follow it myself: but therein (after the Spanish phrase) I will take language at the Rolls, where I shall understand more punctually about what time you purpose to be here. For, I aim at the convoying of you up to your Eton. About which I will write more by the next Carrier: and prepare yourself (Sir) with patience while we live, to be troubled weekly with my Letters; wheresoever I am, even when I shall have no more to say then this, which is the least that can be spoken, that I am  
Feb. 13. 1632. Yours, H. WOTTON.   

From St. Martin's by the Fields, this 18. of April. 1633. To my Noble Nephew long and cheerful years. SIR,  
BY beginning first with Philosophy, I will discover the Method of my nature, preferring it before the speculations of State.  
Take any Vegetable whatsoever, (none excepted in the effect, though some difference in the degree) express the juice; put that in any vessel of Wood or Stone, with a narrow neck and mouth, not closed at the top, but covered with any thing, so as it may work out above: Set it afterwards in some cold hole in a Cellar, let it stand there some three weeks, or a month, till by fermentation it have both purged itself upwards, and by sediment downwards. Then decant from it the clear juice, and put that in a Limbeck in Balneo Maris, or in Balneo Roris. The first that riseth will be Aqua Arden's, useful perchance according to the quality of the Plant; as of Wormwood for the Stomach, of Succory, or any of those Incubae, for the Liver: And on the sides of the Limbeck will hang a Salt; this is the extracting of Salt without calcination; which otherwise certainly must needs consume all the active powers of any Vegetable, and leave nothing but a palastick and passive virtue.  
For the point of preserving that Salt afterwards from resolution by Air into Water, I hold it impossible, notwithstanding the proper examples that you allege; which yet must of necessity yield to it. For as your excellent Uncle says, and says well, in not the least of his works (though born after him) of his Experiments; Air is predatory.  
I have forgotten (for memoria primò senescit) whether I told you in my last a pretty late experiment in Arthritical pains: it is cheap enough. Take a roasted Turnip (for if you boil it, it will open the pores, and draw too much) apply that in a Poultice to the part affected, with change once in an hour or two, as you find it dried by the heat of the flesh, and it will in little time allay the pain.  
Thus much in our private way, wherein I dare swear, if our Medicines were as strong as our wishes, they would work extremely.  
Now, for the public, where peradventure now and then there are distempers as well as in natural bodies.  
The Earl of Holland was on Saturday last (the day after your Posts departure) very solemnly restored at Council- Table (the King present) from a kind of Eclipse, wherein he had stood since the Thursday fortnight before: All considered, the obscuration was long, and bred both various and doubtful discourse; but it ended well. All the cause yet known, was a verbal challenge sent from him by Mr. Henry german in this form to the now Lord Weston, newly returned from his foreign employments, That since he had already given the King an account of his Embassage, he did now expect from him an account of a Letter of his, which he had opened in Paris, and he did expect it at such a time, even in the Spring garden (close under his father's Window, with his Sword by his side.  
It is said (I go no farther in such tender points) that my Lord Weston sent him by Mr. Henry Percy (between whom and the said Lord Weston had in the late journey (as it seems) been contracted, such friendship as overcame the memory that he was Cousin-German to my Lord of Holland) a very fair and discreet answer: That if he could challenge him for any injury done him before, or after his Embassage, he would meet him as a Gentleman, with his Sword by his side where he should appoint. But for any thing that had been done in the time of his Embassage, he had already given the King an account thereof, and thought himself not accountable to any other. This published on Thursday was fortnight, the Earl of Holland was confined to his Chamber in Court, and the next day morning to his House at Kensington, where he remained without any further circumstance of restraint or displeasure Saturday and Sunday: on which days being much visited, it was thought fit on Monday to appoint Mr. Dickenson one of the Clerks of the Council, to be his Guardian thus far, that none without his presence should accost him. This made the vulgar judgements run high, or rather indeed run low, That he was a lost and discarded man, judging as of Patients in fevers, by the exasperation of the fits. But the Queen, who was a little obliquely interested in this business; for in my Lord of Holland's Letter, which was opened, she had one that was not opened, nor so much (as they say) as superscribed; and both the Queen's and my Lord of Hollands were enclosed in one from Mr. Walter Montague (whereof I shall tell you more hereafter.) The Queen I say, stood nobly by him, and as it seems pressed her own affront. It is too intricately involved for me so much as to guests at any particulars. I hear generally discoursed, that the opened dispatch was only in favour (if it might be obtained) of Monsieur de Chateau Neuf, and the Chevalier de jar; (who had both been here) but written with caution (and surely not without the King's knowledge) to be delivered, if there were hope of any good effect; and perchance not without Order from His Majesty to my Lord Weston afterwards, to stop the said Letters, upon advertisement that both Chateau Neuf, and the jar were already in the Bastille. But this I leave at large, as not knowing the depth of the business.  
Upon Monday was seven-night fell out another quarrel, nobly carried (branching from the former) between my Lord Fielding and Mr. Goring, Son and Heir to the Lord of that Name. They had been the night before at Supper, I know not where, together; where Mr. Goring spoke something in diminution of my Lord Weston, which my Lord Fielding told him, it could not become him to suffer, lying by the side of his Sister. Thereupon, these hot hearts appoint a meeting next day morning, themselves alone, each upon his Horse. They pass by Hyde-park, as a place where they might be parted too soon, and turn into a Lane by Knightsbridge; where having tied up their Horses at a Hedge or Gate, they got over into a Close; there stripped into their Shirts, with single Rapiers, they fell to an eager Duel, till they were severed by the Host and his servants of the inn of the Prince of Orange, who by mere chance had taken some notice of them. In this noble encounter; where in blood was spent, though (by God's providence) not much on either side, there passed between them a very memorable interchange of a piece of courtesy, if that word may have room in this place: says my Lord Fielding, Mr. Goring, If you leave me here, let me advise you not to go back by Piccadillia-hall, lest if mischance befall me, and be suddenly noised (as it falleth out in these occasions now between us) you might receive some harm by some of my friends that lodge thereabouts.  
My Lord (replies Goring) I have no way but one to answer this courtesy: I have here by chance in my Pocket a Warrant to pass the Ports out of England, without a Name (gotten, I suppose, upon some other occasion before,) If you leave me here, take it for your use, and put in your own Name. This is a passage much commended between them, as proceeding both from sweetness and stoutness of spirit, which are very compatible. On the solemn day of Saturday last, both this difference and the Original, between the Earl of Holland and the Lord Weston, were fairly reconciled and forgiven by the King, with shaking of hands; and such Symbols of agreement: And likewise Sir Maurice Dromand, who had before upon an uncivil rupture on his part, between him and my Lord of Carlisle, been committed to the Tower, was then delivered at the same time: and so it all ended, as a merry Fellow said, in a Maurice. But whether these be perfect cures, or but skinnings over and Palliations of Court, will appear hereafter: Nay, some say very quickly; for my Lord weston's Lady, being since brought to bed of a Daughter, men stand in a kind of suspense, whether the Queen will be the Godmother after so crude a reconcilement, which by the King's inestimable goodness, I think may pass in this forgiving week.  
For foreign matter, there is so little and so doubtful, as it were a misery to trouble you with it. The States confuted Treaty is put to the stock; and the Prince of Orange (by account) gone to the Field two days since, having broken the business (as they say) by three demands: the resignment of Breda and gelder, the dismantling of Rheinberge, and the equality of free exercise of Religion on either side. The States are strong in Arms, weak in Money, owing above six hundred thousand pounds sterling in bare Interest, besides the Capital. The Enemy hath neither Money, nor Men, nor Agreement. Arena sine calce; yet I hear (and ex bonis Codicibus) that the States are absolutely resolved to besiege no Town this year, unless it be some such place as may haply fall gently into their lap. They will range with divided Troops.  
I will have a care in my Letters to the King's only Sister (for that is now her published style, even in Sermons) so to commend your Frank unto her, (whom she was wont to call, when he went first over, her little Pig) that he may speedily have a captain's place.  
God bless him, and bless your whole name; to which I am so much tied, both by the alliance of the sweetest Niece that ever man had, and by your own kindness since her departure to Heaven. And so I rest,  
Your indissoluble Servant, H. WOTTON.  
Your Hester is reentered into the green sickness, fault de je seay quoy.  
I pray burn this hasty Letter when you have read it.  SIR, 
If you have (as I remember once you told me) the Will of Sir William Pickering, I pray favour me with a Copy of it for a certain purpose; out of which if I pick any good, you shall be partaker of it.  
I have been for the most part sick since I wrote last unto you, but am now cheerful again.   

To my Noble Nephew many cheerful years. SIR,  
IT is worth the noting, how commonly the casual firings of Houses in Towns do follow one another; and so (methinks) do the inflammations of spirits in Courts: For after the solemn quenching of our late quarrels, there is fallen out a new, and shrewdly pursued, between Mr. Harbert Price, a Sewer to the Queen, and Mr. Eliot, Page to the King.  
The beginning they say was upon very sleight occasion: but because a young Lady is an ingredient in the story, I will pass it over. To field they went two days since upon hot and hasty blood (which somewhat saves it from a deliberate Duel) both shooting the Bridge in several Boats; yet the matter being before suspected, my Lord Chamber●…ain sent one Mr. Haies (a Scottishman, and a good Surgeon, though of late an ordinary Courtier on the Queen's side) in quest of them: who found them both on the Surry side, a mile or two below Bridge, closed, and (I hear) on the ground. But Mr. Price already hurt in three places, in one of his sides, in ●…is face, and in three of his fingers: the other is come off untouched. This Price hath been formerly bred a soldier, and sometimes (they say) a Lieutenant in the Low Provinces. Mr. Eliot scarce yet a man in years; but for height and strength at his full prime, and in both above the common scantling. The King is herewith highly offended, succeeding so freshly upon the late reconcilements: And it is doubted, they will at least lose their places.  
The journey to Scotland continueth hotly, and His Majesty removeth House to Theobalds', that way, on Saturday come fortnight. But first must be censured the Bishop of Lincoln for too many words, and the Citizens of London in their undertake in Ireland for too few deeds; which I believe will both trench deep. I shall stay long enough in London (not intending to be gone before the King's remove) to tell you the event: and truly without your benificent courtesy, I had been wrapped in a strange riddle; for I could neither have stayed ●…or departed.  
I received the Communion in St. bartholomew's on Sunday last (being Easter-day) in the same Pew with your Hester and her Mother; your Hester either becomes a little tincture of the Green sickness well, or that becomes her well: well she looks, I am sure, and in my fancy draws towards the countenance of her Sister Stanhop more and more, but stealingly. My Niece Margaret is come home from her Artisan in Southwark, with some pretty amendment. The manner of his cure in those imperfections is somewhat strange; he useth no bindings, but oils and strokings; of which I take him to be (in all my reading) both the Instrument and the Author. My Niece Ann will prove one of the handsomest Creatures of the World; being much grown, and having rectified a little squinting, or obliqne look which she had in one of her eyes, so far as the remainder will turn to a beauty. Her Mother hath of late been much troubled (and I think as much in her fancy, which is the greater cure, as in her body) with a pain in her right side, which changeth place, and therefore is sure but a flatuous infirmity: yet it hasteneth her removing to better Air.  
From my Lady, my Sister at Canterbury, we hear nothing; I believe she is in travail with her own thoughts, about desacing the inscription of the Tomb, as far as Catholica and Catholica amount unto. And I could wish, as she took your advice in the invention and word upon the Marble, she had done so in the rest: but in that you were no apt Counsellor.  
Now for foreign matters. We have fair tidings from Germany, that the Princes hold fast together, and things go well: and I am of opinion, tha●… when those parts have learned as well as the lower Provinces, to spend a Summer upon the siege of a Town, the War will nestle there as well as below. For they abound in strong places; and War itself is a great refiner of spirits in little time.  
The States are in the Field earlier than heretofore: and in all judgement it importeth no less, than the countenancing and covering of a general revolt of the geheerten Provinces, as they call them: of that more in my next. And so (Sir) leaving you in our blessed saviour's love, I rest,  
From my Lodging in S. Martins-lane by the Fields, April 25. 1633. Your Suiscerato servidore, H. WOTTON.  
SIR,  
When I have sent you (as I will do by the next Carrier) a new character, I will open my files.   

St. Martins-lane by the Fields, June 3. 1633. To my Noble Nephew, long and cheerful years. SIR,  
THis other day at the cockpit in Shoe-lane (where myself am rara avis) your Nephew Mr. Robert Bacon came very kindly to me, with whom I was glad to refresh my acquaintance, though I had rather it had been in the theatre of Redgrave.  
I asked him of his Brother, your Frank; and he told me he had been so hindered by winds, as he thought he was not yet gotten over: At which I was sorry, for he hath lost the honour of taking Rheinberge: He may come yet timely enough to see gelder's yielded, and after that to have his share in Juliers, which they writ from the Camp, will be the next piece; and so the States will be Masters of all the tract that lies between the Maese and the Rhine, and backed with one of the fattest Provinces of Christendom. Besides, we hear they have recovered their former footing in Brasil, and beaten the Spanish Fleet. It is hard to say, into what these prosperities will run out: for surely, if they can establish a right correspondency with the upper Armies of Germany, and either both hold out, or neither agree without the other; even this Summer will breed notable effects, and among other I hope, the restitution of the Palatinate; where, as much as the Swede had taken, is offered for 16000 Dollars; whereof the half is paid already by the Duke of Simmern, Administrator to the young Palatine in his minority, and the other moiety is expected from hence. One thing I must not omit to tell you, that the said young Prince was at the siege of Rheinberge to initiate him in action. The young Cardinal Infante is come you know to Milan, and they say will there reside as governor till he can recover Casale and Pignerolo, and purge Italy of the French: so as I believe he will come to Brussels (for thither he finally tends) in the Spanish pace. Having thus a little skimmed over our foreign news, give me leave now to entertain you with some novelties of Art. I send you herewith two printed Caps, a triangular Salt-celler, and the top of an Amber-Ring. The Caps is a pretty fresh invention of a very easy rate; for they will run shortly at some six pence apiece: and they say the sale is monopolised by a Woman at Amsterdam; which may come to some pretty perfection in the ornament of Curtains and Valances of Beds, or in some fine historified tablecloth for a Banquet, or the like. In the invention of the Salt-celler you have an interest yourself; for I remember (Sir) you shown me a whole furniture of Marble Salt-cellers for a Table of your bespeaking: But there is one that hath only gone beyond you in the cheapness of the Material; for this which you now receive is but of Seacole, and it is strange to see what a polishment so base a stuff doth take, like the ennobling of a Clown. To the broken Ring there belongs a little more discourse. I bought for a trifle in Lombardstreet long since, because it had a Fly entombed in the sealing part; which if it had been precisely in the middle, would have showed like the sculpture of the Signet itself. Now a while since by a fall from a Table to the ground, it broke, though in a boarded room: whereupon there fell a conceit into my mind, that the Ring was Artificial Amber, and not Natural; as indeed my Servant Giovanni and I have since plainly discovered. Now I cannot choose but smile when I think how much more the first Seller of it might have had from me for the fashood (if he would have said so) then for the truth: For surely many rare things may be made of this composition, and entire insectiles of any greatness, and in any posture be enclosed therein; which I am sure will inflame you, as it hath set me on fire already to find the way how to clarify the Pasta, which seems to be of Rosin, and perchance some dust of true Amber. And thus you see what easy ways I take to please myself, while I am conversing with you. Let me add to these, a strange thing to be seen in London for a couple of pence, which I know not whether I should call a piece of Art, or Nature: It is an English man like some Swabber of a Ship come from the Indies, where he hath learned to eat Fire as familiarly as ever I see any eat Cakes, even whole glowing Brands, which he will crash with his teeth, and swallow. I believe he hath been hard famished in the Terra de Fuego, on the South of the Magellan straight.  
Sir, I have heard (I know not by whom) that you had a purpose to be here this Whitsuntide; but imagining that at least Mr. Chitock may meet you by the way, I have ventured the trouble of these lines unto you. For mine own estate, I must acquaint you, (because whether well or ill, I am yours) that of late I have been much troubled with certain splenetic vapours, mounting to the top of my Stomach when it is empty: For which I am in a course of gentle physic at the present, remembering that of Galen. Ego soleo hortari amicos meos, ut in melancholicis affectionibus abstineant à validioribus remediis. My best physic will be your company,  
To whom there is none bound in truer service then, H. WOTTON.   

OH my most dear nephew (for so I still glory to call you, while Heaven possesseth her who bond us in that Relation) how have I of late, after many vexations of a fastidious infirmity, been at once rend in pieces by hearing that you were at London: What! said I, and must it be at a time when I cannot fly thither to have my wont part of that conversation, wherein all that know him enjoy such infinite contentment? Thus much did suddenly break lose from the heart that doth truly honour you. And now (Sir) let me tell you both how it hath gone with me, and how I stand at the present. There is a triple health: health of Body, of Mind, and of Fortune; you shall have a short account of all three.  
For the first; it is now almost an whole Cycle of the Sun, since after certain fits of a Quotidian fever, I was assailed by that splenetic Passion, which a country good fellow that had been a piece of a Grammarian meant, when he said he was sick of the Flatus, and the other hard word; for Hypocondriacus stuck in his Teeth: It is the very Proteus of all Maladies; shifting into sundry shapes, almost every night a new, and yet still the same; neither can I hope, that it will end in a solar Period, being such a Saturnine Humour; but though the Core and Root of it be remaining, yet the symptoms (I thank my God) are well allayed: And in general, I have found it of more contumacy than malignity; only since the late cold weather, there is complicated with it a more Asthmatical straitness of respiration then heretofore: yet those about me say, I bear it well, as perchance custom hath taught me; being now familiarized and domesticated evils: In the Tragedians expression, jam mansueta Mala. And thus much of the habit of my Body. On the other side, my Mind is in a right Philosophical Estate of health; that is, at an equal distance both ●…rom desire and hope; and ambitious of nothing, but of doing nothing, and of being nothing: yet I have some employment or my thoughts to keep them from mouldering, as you shall know before I close this Letter. But first, touching the third kind of health. My condition or fortune was never better, then in this good Lord treasurer's time: the very reverse of his proud Predecessor, that made a scorn of my poverty, and a sport of my modesty; leaving me in bad case; and the world so, as though we now know by what Arts he lived, yet are we ignorant to this hour by what Religion he died, save only that it could not be good, which was not worthy the professing. This free passage let me commit to your noble breast, remembering that in confidence of the receiver, I have transgressed a late Counsel of mine own which I gave to a young friend, who ask me casually of what he should make him a suit, as he was passing this way towards London; I told him that in my opinion, he could not buy a cheaper nor a more lasting stuff there then silence. For I loved him well, and was afraid of a little freedom that I spied in him. And now, Sir, I must needs conclude (or I shall burst) with letting you know, that I have divers things in wild sheets that think and struggle to get out of several kinds, some long promised, and some of a newer conception: but a poor exercise of my Pen (wherewith I shall only honour myself by the dedication thereof unto your own person) is that which shall lead the way by mine and your good leave, intending (if God yield me his favour) to Print it before it be long in Oxford, and to send you thence, or bring you a Copy to our Redgrave. What the subject is you must not know before hand: for I fear it will want all other grace, if it lose virginity. And so the Lord of all abundant joy keep you long, con quella buona Ciera, which this my Servant did relate unto me,  
Who live, at all your commands, H. WOTTON. From your college this Ash-wednesday, 1637.  
Postscript.  
Mr. Clever one of the now Fellows of this college (where have been divers changes since it had the honour and the gladness to receive you) being this day returned hither from the Excellent Lord Keeper, to whom we had addressed him about a business that concerneth us: Tells me even at this instant in the account of his journey; that it pleased his good Lordship to inquire of him twice or thrice very graciously touching my health. I beseech you (My Noble Nephew) let his Lordship see, if it please you, this whole Letter (for I dare trust his indulgent goodness, both with my liberties and with my simplicities) and that will tell him my present Estate: which by making it any part of his care, is for ever at his most humble service.   

Noble Sir; above all the most honoured and loved.  
UPon the receipt of a Letter from you (which came late, and I know not by what misadventure, half drowned, to my hands) with advertisement, that you had been at Sudbury in your passage homewards assailed with a Quartan: I resolved immediately to visit you by this Bearer the best of my flights, and lately well acquainted himself with farther travellers, who yet hath been kept here after my said resolution, that he might bring you a full account of the business touching my inviolate niece so dear unto us both, which was a part of your foresaid Letter, and wherein I am confident you will receive very singular contentment out of the very Originals of some, and true Copies of other Letters, which I send you by this my said inward servant; and if he were not so, I would not have entrusted him with so tender Papers. The rest of his stay, was only that I might collect among my poor memorials and experiments something conducible to the recovery of your health, wherein I reckon myself as much interessed as in any one thing of this world. I will not say unto you, Courage, as the French use to speak: for you have enough of that within yourself: Nor, Be merry, in our English phrase (for you can impart enough of that even to others in the incomparable delight of your conversation) But let me give you two comforts, though needless to the serenity of your spirits. The first, That I hope your infirmity will not hold you long, because it comes (as I may speak, according to the barbarous Translators of Avicenna) In complexionato suo: that is in the very season of the revolution of melancholic humours, for Omnis Morbus contra complexionatum Patientis vel Temporis, est periculosus aut longus. The other, That it hath not succeeded any precedent caustick disease, because those Quartans are of all the most obstinate which arise out of the Incineration of a former Ague. The rest I have committed to the instructions and memory of this Bearer, being himself a Student in physic; and though I dare not yet call him a good Counsellor, yet I assure you, it is a good Relator: with this dispatch I will intermingle no other vulgar subject, but hereafter I will entertain you with as jolly things as I can scamble together. And so, Sir, for the present, commending you into the sweet and comfortable preservation of our dear God: I rest,  
Your faithful poor Servant, H. WOTTON. From the college Novemb. 6. 1638.   

My Noble, Honoured, Loved, ever remembered, ever Desired Nephew.  
I Shall give to morrow morning Matthew Say our Boat-man, before his going, a shilling, and promise him another at his return to deliver this small packet with his own hands at the Green-Dragon in Bishopsgate-street, according to the form of your address, not for any value of mine own Papers, but for some things therein contained, which I wish may come safely and quickly to you. And first, I send you your immortal uncle's Confession of his Faith, which I did promise you at Canterbury, solidly and excellently couched, as whatsoever else had the happiness to fall under his Meditation and Pen. Next; you receive a Letter freshly written me from Cambridge, with mention (God bless us) of a Jesuit of your name: who seems (as all that comes from any of you is piercing) to have sent over lately some pretty insinuative Book in matter of Theological controversy, perchance better dressed then any before, and with more relish commended to the vulgar taste, but I believe it will be the same to the stomach: for well they may change their form, but it is long since we have heard their substance over and over, still the same ad fastidium usque. I shall languish to know how he toucheth upon your Name and stirp. The Name of my friend who writ me the said Letter, I have defaced for the censure of some other things therein, which I should be sorry to adventure at large: but you shall know him from me hereafter; and believe it, he will be worth your knowing.  
I cannot forbear to tell you a thing (I know not whether I should call it news, because it is nearer you than to us) but strange in truth, written me from the said University at the same time by the Provost of King's college there; between whom and me doth pass much familiar correspondency. It is of a weekly Lecture there performed heretosore by the Person of Mr. Christopher Goad, and lately deposed with severe commandment (as it should seem) from above, whereupon the Women especially by way of revenge for that restraint do flock to St. Mary's in such troops, and so early, that the Masters of Art have no room to sit; so as the vicechancellor and Heads of Houses were in deliberation to repress their shoaling thither. Methinks, it is a good thing, when zeal in a land grows so thick and so warm. But soft, if I launch any farther, I may perchance run (which yet were a great mistake) into the name of a Puritan. For that very Lecturer which is now deposed, did live heretofore with me at my Table upon especial choice: being in truth a man of sweet conversation, and of sober solidity.  
Now, for other things, Nicolas Oudard brought me the Friday after his departure from you the glad tidings of your Agues discharge, as you then conceived it would be at the twentieth Access, according (as you seem to have told him) to a common observation with you there: so as in Suffolk, I see you count Quartan fits, as you do your Sheep, by the score. I could hearty wish you would take for some time after it Alternis Diebus, my preparation of the Lignum Sanctum, with addition likewise of the roots of China, Enula Campana, and a sprig of Tamarisque, all in the decoction of barleywater, and quickened with a little sprinkling of a lemon: a rare Receipt to corroborate the Viscera, and to keep the stomach in Tono. My said Nicolas tells me likewise, that you began to chirp upon being in London the next Term. I should be glad with your favour to know that point precisely: for having a purpose (by God's dear blessing) to visit you at Redgrave (which will be the best Cordial I took in long time) I would shape my course circularly, either from Suffolk to Kent, or from Kent to Suffolk, as I shall hear of your motions towards the beginning of next Lent. For novelties of Court and State, all men's minds at the present with us seem magnetical, looking towards the North. Order is come down this day to the Justices of this Shire, about a general muster at Alisbury the next week, and for especial watch at the Beacons; so as any burning of a bush by chance near one of them, would set the whole Province in an alarm; but notwithstanding these good providences, we hope well of the issue; and the rather, for that a pretty strong conceit runneth, that the Deanary of Durham is reserved for Doctor Belkanquel, as a reward of his travels to and fro in this great business. While we are uniting our ceremonious breaches, the Kings of France and Spain abroad treat hard this Winter about a peace, as one writeth, (and I believe very truly) without consideration of any other Prince or State but themselves. If this be so, and take effect in that manner, then is Charles de Lorraine Exutus Lepidus stripped to his shirt, the Count Palatine left at large, and the Swede must stand upon his own feet. But Brevibus Momentis summa vertuntur: all depends upon the taking, or not taking of Brisach, the Helena of Germany: and though a Town indeed of great strength and advantage, yet a poor price for so much blood as hath been lost about it. While I am talking of War, let me tell you what I hear, that your Sir Jacob Ashley is grown a great man at Court in private introducements to the King, together with the Earl Marshal: our good Sovereign will feel a sufficient man quickly. The States lie still and close oppressed with the adversities of the last year; and with nothing more, than the late ruin of forty well laden Ships by the Texel, wherein with deploration of the whole Province were lost one thousand Mariners.  
Touching the subject whereof I sent you an account by Nicolas, I have heard nothing since to increase my hope, and much less my faith. You shall have more the next week. Till when and ever our sweet Jesus have you in his love.  
Your Servant alla suiscerata, H. W.  SIR, 
Since I concluded this, Mr. Hales (our Bibliotheca ambulans, as I use to call him) came to me by chance, and told me, that the Book of Controversies issued under the name of Baconus, hath this addition to the said name, alias Southwell; as those of that Society shift their names as often as their shirts: And he says it is a very poor thing, only graced with a little method.  
From your college Decemb. 5. 1638.   

SIR,  
AFter the rest of your trouble, at the present there remaineth a proposition to be consulted with you; about which I should esteem the charge of an express Messenger not ill expended, though you were at Jerusalem. And both Mr. Harison and myself think no man living more proper to solve it, than our Sir Edmund Bacon. The Question is this, whether there may not be found some natural Philosophical way to determine the measure of a minute, or quarter, or half, or entire hour, or any portion of time more precisely and uniformly, and infallibly then hath been yet invented by any Mechanical and Artificial motion? And particularly, whether it may not be done by the descent of drops through a Filter, either in Menica Hippocratis, or in a tongue of cloth equally thick, with consideration likewise of all circumstances in that liquid substance which must sink through it. If th●…s may be done, there will be a mighty point obtained in the rectifying of the Longitudes of the Earth, which depend upon the thoment of the Lunar Eclipses; and Mose, upon the exact determination of the beginning and ending of an hour: for which purpose the great Tychs' Brach composed divers Horologies, and Hour-glasses, some running with simple Water, some with distilled Spirits, some with pulverised metals, and some with crude Mercury; but never to any infallible satisfaction of the point propounded: which likewise would be of singular use in divers Astronomical observations, if it could be once justly regulated. This we commend to your curious judgement. My Servant Nicolas and I hope to send you some good Flints to be Agatized by your miraculous invention.  
I pray, Sir, if you have any of those Island stones which you mentioned unto me at Canterbury, bestow a few upon me. But above all, forget not to let me know where you will be about the beginning of Lent.  
Iterum & Iterum vale.   

A late Letter written towards the end of Lent, by Sir Henry Wotton Provost of his majesty's college at Eton.  
To the Right worthy his ever truly Honoured, Sir Edmund Bacon Knight and Baronet, touching the loss of Friends, and final resignation of ourselves.  
SIR,  
ALl the faculties of my mind (if they had ever been of any value) and all the strength of my body, must yield to the signory and sovereignty of time over us: But the last thing that will die, or decay in me, is the remembrance, how amidst that inestimable contentment which I enjoyed (as all others do) in the benefit and pleasure of your Conversation (being then with you at Redgrave in Suffolk, both your delightful Mansion and Philosophical retreat, where you are best, because there you are most yourself, though every where well imparted to your Friends) I was then surprised with an advertisement from Court, of the death of Sir Albertus Morton, my dear Nephew, in the ●…ruality (as I may term it) of his employments and fortunes under the best King and Master of the World: And how no great time after (as adversities are seldom solitary) there succeeded in the same place the departure of my no less dear Niece, your long, and I dare say, your still beloved Consort (for love and life are not conterminable) as well appeareth by your many tender expressions of that disjuncture, and by that Monument of your own excellent invention which you have raised to her memory.  
This (Sir) ever freshly bleeding in me, and with●…ll revolving often in my retired thoughts, how I ●…ve long since over-lived my loving Parents, all ●…ine Uncles, Brothers and Sisters, besides many ●…f mine especial Friends and Companions of my ●…outh, who have melted away before me, and that I am now myself arrived near those years which 〈◊〉 in the suburbs of Oblivion, being the sole Mas●…line Branch of my good father's House in the County of Kent: So as that poor Name and Repu●…tion which my Ancestors have heretofore sustain●…d by God's permission, must expire and vanish in ●…y unworthiness: I say (Sir) again and again, debating often these Circumstances with myself (and truly not without the common weaknesses and passions of humanity, from which I am of all men least exempted) an extreme desire did lately assail me to entertain between my other Private Studies, some such discourse as might work upon mine own mind, and at least abstract a while, if not elevate my cogitations above all earthly objects. Whereupon, towards the end of this last Lent (a time of contracted thoughts) I fell to think of that Theme, which I have now entitled, The loss of Friends, and final Resignation of ourselves. Intending, though it be the highest and uttermost point of Christian Philosophy, to familiarize it between us as much as I can, and to address it in form of a Letter to yourself. For, with whom can I treat of this matter more properly, being both of us almost precisely of equal age, and by the love which you are pleased to bear me, all Joy in the Fruition, and all Grief in the Privation of Friends common between us.  
Now Sir, etc.   

My dearly and worthily ever honoured Nephew,  
THis is that Saturnine time of the year which most molesteth such splenetic bodies (as mine is) by the revolution of melancholic blood, which throweth up fastidious fumes into the head, whereof I have had of late my share: Howsoever, this trusty Fellow of our Town being hired by one about some business to Cambridge (as he is often hither and thither) and acquainting me commonly with his motions, I have gladly stretched his present journey as far as the Redgrave: hoping by him to have an absolute account of your well being, which Nicolas my Servant left in a fair disposition.  
Let me therefore by this opportunity entertain you with some of our newest things; but briefly, for I dare not trust my brains too much.  
First, for the affairs of Scotland: Est bene non potuit dicere, dixit, Erit. The wisest physicians of State are of opinion that the Crisis is good; and I hope your Sir jacob Ashley, and my Sir Thomas Morton, will have a fine employment upon the borders; Honour by the choice of their persons, money by their journal pay, little pains, and no danger. Our Court mourneth this whole Festival with sad frugality for the untimely death of the young Duke of Savoy, our Queen's Nephew, hastened they say by the Cardinal his Uncle, who would first have illegitimated him, and that not taking effect by the supportment of Spain, he fell to other Roman Arts; so as the said Cardinal to decline this black report, is gone a wand'ring; and as it is thought, will visit barefoot the Holy landlord. In the mean time, methinks I see him with a crew of Banditi and Bravi in his company, and his own Conscience a continual Hangman about him. The Queen Mother stirreth little between Majesty and Age: She hath published a short Manifesto, touching the reasons of her recess from Brussels, wherein is one very notable conceit: That she had long born silently the affronts done her by the Prince, Cardinals, Counsellors, and under-Officers, upon no other reason, than the very shame to have received them. Of himself she speaketh with good respect, but I know not how the Character of Humility (which she giveth him) will be digested: for perchance he had rather have been painted like a Lion then a Lamb. Our Queen's Delivery approacheth, in a good hour be it spoken. There is newly sworn her Servant, a lovely Daughter of Sir Richard Harisons, our Neighbour in Berkshire, to answer Madamoiselle Darci on her mother's side. The Count Palatine since his late defeat, is gotten in disguised habit to Hamborough, and as they say, hath been there visited by the King of Denmark, amidst that cold Assembly of Ambassadors: But in his passage between the said Town and Bremen, was like to have been taken by an ambush of freebooters, who no doubt would have made sale of him. Certain it is, that his Brother Prince Rupert sought very nobly before he yielded; whereof such notice was taken, even by the Count of Hatfield himself, that he hath ever since been kept by him in a strong place, rounded, day and night with a guard of naked Swords; yet in the Tablets of one that had leave to visit him, the Prince made a shift to comfort the Queen his Mother with a line or two to this sense: That whatsoever became of himself, he would never change his Religion, nor his Party. We hear my Lord Craven hath made his composition under 20000. l. As for Ferents, I believe his own head must ransom him, or his heels. The Pope's Treaty at Colen goes Il pass del Gambaro, rather backward then forward. And all deliberatives of State seem to depend much upon the event of Brisach, which I use to call the Germane Helena, long wooed, but for aught I hear yet, an Imperial Virgin. These are our foreign rhapsodies: I will end in somewhat nearer us. You receive herewith the Copy of my last or second Letter to Mr. Cary Raleigh, and his answer thereunto. Believe it Sir, (whatsoever conceit his actions shall breed) that he is a Gentleman of dextrous abilities, well appearing in the management of a business so tender and delicate, as that which now runneth between us, which for my part I resolve to press no further: For (to depose my mind as plainly as I may safely in your breast) I never could observe my great good effect to ensue upon violent dissuasions in businesses of this nature, but rather an obduration than an abversion: Howsoever, I would fain (as the occasion suggesteth) propound unto your judgement a pretty Moral doubt, super tota materia, which I have heard discussed, and resolved affirmatively among some skilful Humorists, who ●…ew the World well. The Question was this, Whether in such a case precisely as ours of mere scandal, without apparent truth, some inclining to think the worst, and some the best, there be left room for any middle imagination between good and ill? In the solution of which point, I will crave pardon to reserve a secret till we meet, at which I believe you will smile.  
We are here (God be blessed) all well: Our Audit ended a little before Christmass-day, more troublesome than fruitful, after the fashion. The same Officers as the year before, every man of them your Servant, or otherwise they had wanted my voice. Mr. Harison hath been of late somewhat more than heretofore troubled with certain Nephritical fits; but they are transient and light, Et jam mansueta mala. Mr. Powel speaketh of you with much devotion, as all other whom you have once touched with your Magnetical virtue. In the Conclusion let me, as with a Box of marmalade, close up your stomach with one of the Genialest pieces that I have read in my life-time, of the same unaffected and dishevelled kind, (as I may term it) sent me newly from London; which if you have seen before, I am out of countenance. And so (Sir) wishing you (for I cannot wish you better on earth) after the sweet apprehension of God's continual favour, the fruition of yourself: I rest, at what distance soever,  
From the college on the Eve of the New year, through which God send you a blessed passage, and many more.  
Your unseparable Servant, H. WOTTON.    

ADDITIONAL LETTERS TO SEVERAL PERSONS: Now first Published from the Authors own Copies.  

King James to Sir Henry Wotton, 1616.  
To Our Right trusty and wellbeloved Sir Henry Wotton, Knight, Our Ambassador Resident with the State of Venice. james R.  
RIght trusty and wellbeloved, We greet you well. Whereas many of the Gentry, and others of Our kingdoms, under pretence of travel for their experience, do pass the Alps, and not contenting themselves to remain in Lombardy or Tuscany, to gain the language there, do daily flock to Rome, out of vanity and curiosity to see the Antiquities of that City; where falling into the company of Priests and Jesuits, or other ill-disposed persons, they are not only corrupted with their Doctrine, but poisoned with their Positions, and so return again into their countries, both averse to Religion, and illaffected to Our State and Government. Forasmuch as we cannot think upon any better means to prevent that inconvenience hereafter, then by imposing the care of that business in part upon you: These are therefore to require you, to take notice with diligence of all such, as by the way of Venice shall bend their courses thither, and to admonish them, as from Us, that they should not presume to go beyond the bounds of the dukedom of Florence, upon any occasion whatsoever. After which advice of yours given unto them, if any Subject of Ours, of what degree or condition soever, shall be either so much forgetful of the duty he doth owe to Us, or so little respective of his own good, as to press further, to the breach of Our Commandment delivered them by you; Our Will and Pleasure is, that you should forthwith acquaint us with the Names of the persons, who shall so miscarry themselves, that upon notice thereof from you, We may take such further order with them, for the redress of this mischief, as to Our wisdom shall seem good.  
Given under Our Signet at Newmarket, the seventh day of December, in the fourteenth year of Our reign of England, France, and Ireland, and of Scotland the fiftieth, 1616.   

[Venice, 1618.]  
My most Honoured Lord and Patron,  
MY humble suit unto your Lordship is this: It is His majesty's usual Grace, to yield His foreign Servants the comfort of His Gracious sight once in three years, as this republic doth likewise recall their Ministers, which Term by my Privy Seal will end on the first of February next.  
I do therefore humbly beg, that by your lordship's intercession, I may have leave to return home for a month or six weeks, concurring two urgent occasions.  
The one, for the pursuit of a business depending on a Patent long since granted to Sir Edward Dymock and me, whereunto I am summoned by His majesty's Attorney, as will appear unto your Lordship by the Copy of the said Attorneys Letter, (coming herewith) written to my Brother Sir james Wotton, my Feoffee in trust; wherein my presence is necessary, by reason of some differences between the said Sir Edward Dymock and me. And this is a Case wherein we are to maintain His majesty's Title, as hath been endeavoured, with our own moneys hitherto unfruitfully spent.  
The other, for the reordering of my Exchanges, which have been much incommodated by the failing of Seignor Burlamachie's credit here, (though it stand well in other places) by a trick that was played him.  
While I shall be at home, I will challenge nothing from His majesty's Exchequer, though perchance I shall bring some observations, not altogether unprofitable, as a public Instrument. I will likewise neither trouble His Majesty as the Fountain, nor your Lordship as the Means, with any private suit, in the way of mine own fortune. For by His Royal Goodness, and by your favourable mediation, I am already abundantly satisfied in some Expectatives, (as marks of His Grace, and of your Patronage) which have not only exceeded my merits, but even quieted mine appetites. Only thus much I humbly crave, That by His majesty's toleration of my weaknesses, I may still retain this charge, and live upon his service, without farther burden unto him, because I see no man hasty at home, to die for my benefit.   

1619. A Report of my Negotiation in Germany, and of some Particularities occurring in my journey.  
To my most Gracious sovereign and Master.  
I Came to Munichen, the Court of Bavaria, in the evening before the Feast of Corpus Christi, and in my company, the Duke joachimus Ernestus of Ho●…stein, who since the ceasing of Arms in Friuli, had lived with me at Venice: which I mention as a duty, having been recommended unto me, and to that State, by Your majesty's special Letters, and in truth likewise by his own worthy dispositions. Here we thought only to have stolen a sight, in some private window, of the Procession the next day, where we were told the Princes and whole Court would be: But in the morning we were prevented by the Duke Maximilian, who having gotten knowledge of our qualities, sent a Baron of his bedchamber with Coaches to conduct us to the Court; which gracious surprisal we could not civilly resist. At the Court we were placed, by the Dukes own appointment, in a Gallery; where when we saw a more solemn and sober Procession, than I had beheld even at Rome, under the Pope's eyes; as perhaps, all superstition is losest at the fountain. In this Procession, a little after the Duke and his Brother Albertus, went two young Sons of one of them, that were thrown out of the window at prague, who since then have been fostered in Bavaria: And from hence we took our first judgement of the affections of that Court. I cannot omit, that at this Solemnity were two Jesuites; who otherwise in Italy do studiously decline the familiarity of such public appearances, for preservation of respect: At which when I did express some wonder, I was told between jest and earnest, that indeed the greater Fathers were more reserved of their presence; but these were only like Ushers over the Seminary boys, to keep them in awe at this show.  
This done, the Duke of Holstein and myself were led and lodged in several Quarters of the Palace: and before Dinner, the Duke Maximilian (though tired with walking) sent singly for me, and passed with me more than an hour in private and free discourse: Falling into it, with as serious protestation as mine ears ever heard, that though he was bred in the Roman Faith, yet no Prince living did more honour and reverence the great virtues, and eminent wisdom of the King my Master, to whom he had the honour to be allied, both by marriage, and by his own descent; and therefore should have thought it a disgrace for him, to let me go that way, without offering me, after I had passed the Alps, a little commodity of repose in that poor House, as he was pleased to term it; being otherwise one of the most capable, magnificent, and regular fabrics of Christendom; and all of his own device and erection in five years. He told me besides, how sensible he was of the honour which the Count Palatine had done him with a personal surprisal; and how ashamed, that the times had not yet permitted him to revenge that favour, which he had vowed to do with the first opportunity: And the rather, that he might invite Your majesty's most virtuous Daughter (who hath filled these countries with her excellent fame) to come and take possession in Bavaria of her Woods and Fields, and to kill all there that had either wings or feet. This was the complimental part of his Speech. In the rest, he bewailed the present appearance of unquietness in the Empire: He lamented likewise the situation of his own State, which made it hard for him to preserve himself neutral, though he had studied it. He spoke of Ferdinando's person, kindly; of his fortune, doubtfully: of the Bohemians, with a cool temper; rather censuring the form of their proceeding, than the cause: of himself, with singular moderation, and without the least discovery of any ambitious affections, though we found his Courtiers warm enough in their hopes.  
After Dinner, he sent for the Duke of Holstein: And then came himself with his whole train to visit me on that side where I was placed, (an honour done seldom before●…, as I heard, to any Ambassador) where he spent with me about half an hour, with new affirmations of his reverend respect towards Your Majesty: As likewise, the morning following; when with much ado, we got leave to be gone. Which noble language he afterwards (as not contented with a verbal profession) did prosecute in a Letter that I received from him on the way, which I reserve to be shown Your Majesty.  
This was my entertainment in the Bavarian Court, by a Prince (I am bound to say) every way good, but in that wherein he should be best: of noble manner in his hospitality; of sharp conceit, of great erudition; and both orderly and lovingly served. Which Circumstances I have thought it my part to set down the more particularly, for that, I am certainly informed of much jealousy both taken and expressed by the Pope, at the Count Palatine's reception in that Court; and more, for a Book written by his Chancellor, and published by the Duke's direct Command, (prefixed in the front thereof) in defence of Ludovicus, the Bavarian excommunicated Emperor: Which things considered, make his kindness to Your majesty's Servant, and professions towards Your Royal Person, more notable. Now to proceed:  
At Augusta I took language, that the Princes and States of the Union had deferred their Assembly ten days: which gave me opportunity to find them together at Heilbrun, whom I should have miss at their own homes. And for due respect, I gave the Count Palatine notice of my intent to be there, by a Gentleman expressly sent. Of what I did in Augusta for Your majesty's service, I bring with me the account. Being arrived at Heilbrun, the day after the first sitting of the Princes, I repaired immediately to the Count Palatine, as Director, not only of the Union; but likewise of me; (for so I told him was Your Majesties. Will:) who after he had spoken with his Associates, did order the form of my proceeding in this manner: With himself, I was to treat in Individuo, both for respect of privacy, being Your majesty's Son-in-Law, and of Dignity, being then Provisor of the Empire, as his right style is, and not Vicar. To the four Princes, I went jointly; they agreeing upon a room where they would assemble, and sending for me their Coaches and Courtiers; namely, the marquis of Anspach, (who hath the precedency, as an Electoral branch) the Duke of Wirtemberg, the marquis of Baden, and the Prince Christianus of Anhalt, respondent for his own House: The Landgrave Maurice of Hassia was not there, but voiced to be sick. The marquis of Brandenburg was out of the Empire in Prussia, and his Son in the Low Provinces. The Representants of the three United Cities, Nurenburg, Strasburg, and Ulm, (which direct the meaner Towns) were to come all jointly (as they did) to my Lodging. The Count Palatine met me at the Stair-head; and did render me the visitation, where I lay, in person: The Princes came all jointly down into the very Street, to take me from my Coach; and in like manner brought me down again unto it; and did afterwards visit me all together: The marquis of Anspach then presenting unto me their Answer in writing, with all due commemoration of their obligations to Your Majesty. The Representants of the Cities did present their Answer verbally at my Lodging by the Syndic of Strasburg, with no less zeal and devotion than the Princes had done. And this was the formal part, full of all just respect that could be expressed in that place. Now touching the real part: When I had conferred with the Count Palatine your majesty's scope in the main business, I found him in truth for himself exceeding forward; but for the other Princes and Towns he objected two difficulties: The one was, the present distractions of Germany, which made the Proposition somewhat unseasonable. The other was, the differences between our Church and those of the Augustine Confession; which though but few, yet perchance might a little hinder their concurrence with us in this excellent work: especially the Lutheran Princes, being likely to do nothing without counsel of their Ministers, and they being the passionatest Men amongst them. These two objections considered, it was thought fit by the Count Palatine, (into whose hands I had delivered myself) after deliberation with his own Counsellors, that I should at this time only dispose the other Princes, and Representants of Cities, in your majesty's Name, towards a concurrence, with apt lenitives and probabilities; and that I should endeavour, by your majesty's Christian persuasion, to remove all asperity that might impeach it, leaving a more particular prosecution thereof till the noise of the Empire were settled: in which mean while, many things might be further thought on to advance this purpose, and be conferred afterwards by Letters.  
Hereupon I framed my Speech to the Princes in the manner following.  
I told them, that I brought thither two sorts of Commissions, The one from the Duke and Senate of Venice, sub fide tacita, which I presented in writing, containing a profession of much good will from that State towards them, and a clear inclination to a straighter correspondence with them: In contemplation of whom, the republic had resolved not to permit the transport of any succours cross their Gulf into Austria, for the further troubling of Germany. This was the substance of that I brought under silent confidence, without any other credit then mine own honesty might bear; which had been delivered unto me by order of Senate, whom I acquainted thus far, that I would take home-wards the way of Germany. Wherein I craved from the Princes and the rest some taste of their inclinations, that these fair offers might be farther prosecuted by your majesty's mediation, whom I known much to desire the further strengthening of this Body with good amity's.  
My other Commission was (as I said) from mine own Royal Master, from whom I brought Letters of his confidence unto them; after presentation whereof, and all other due premises, I told them,  
That your Majesty having long and deeply considered the corruptions that have grown in your own Kingdoms, and in the States of your Confederates and Friends, by the secret practices of Jesuits, did finally observe but one only cause of this creeping mischief, and but one only remedy; which you had thought meet to communicate with them by an express though a covered Legation, under the colour of my return homewards. The cause of the said evil was, that we had left the Pope at too much ease in his own Provinces; the remedy would be, to cut him out so much work at home, as should force him to gather his thoughts about himself, and in conclusion to revoke his Emissaries for the maintaining of Italy. To do this, there were but four means:  

1. By the advantage of Arms in time of Action.  
2. By open Preaching.  
3. By dispersion of Books.  
4. By secret Semination.   
For the first, it was true, that the late necessity of calling French▪ (among whom there were many of our Religion) into Piedmont, and the Dutch, Flemish, and English into Friuli, had done some good by freedom of conversation, all Inquisition ceasing at such times: But this violent way must be left to further occasion.  
For the second, although there had been for one whole Lent public preaching against the Roman doctrine in Venice; yet that Liberty and the Pope's Excommunication did cease together, and must so abide till new opportunity.  
For the third, I acquainted them how greedy the Italians were of our Treatises in matter of controversy, and of divers ways that had been used both to excite, and to satisfy that curiosity, both by the works of the Arch bishop of Spalleto, since his retirement into your majesty's protection; and of a Discourse that was ready to come abroad, wherein should be discovered by a great intelligent man, even of their own breeding, all the Practices of the council of Trent, out of the Original Registers and secret Papers; wherein your Majesty had a hand, for the benefit of the Christian World.  
For the fourth and last way, of secret Semination, wherein we had been hitherto wholly deficient and asleep: This I said was the particular scope of my present charge.  
In this your Majesty did exhort them by all fervent persuasion to join with you their counsels and cares, their diligence and powers, according to such ways as should be hereafter propounded either by your Majesty to them, or conceived amongst themselves. Whereunto your Majesty had been stirred, first by the zeal of God's glory; next, by a Religious shame and indignation, to see Superstition more active than the Truth: Thirdly, by the instance of divers well-affected Persons, both within the Body of Italy, and in the Confines thereof. And lastly, by the opportunity which the present time itself did yield unto it: which I did particularly remonstrate unto them; but being matter of secrecy, I will keep it in my pen till I arrive with your Majesty.  
After which, I concluded with your majesty's most loving and Christian persuasions unto them (which they could not refuse, coming from such a Friend) to lay aside our own small differences, to suppress the heat of passionate Divines by Civil Authority, and to join together against the common Adversary of our Churches and States.  
And because the free passage into Italy was a point much importing the present purpose, as likewise in other respects very considerable, your Majesty did entreat them to spend their earnest intercession by a common Letter to the Cantons of Zurick and Bern, That they would endeavour by all means possible (as being incomparably the fittest Mediators) to re-establish the League between the Venetians and the Grisons; to which both parties were well inclining, but there wanted a third to break the business, and to remove the scruple of who shall begin, which had hitherto hindered the effect.  
This was my poor exposition of Your Commands: whereof I thought it my duty to render Your Majesty this preambulatory account, for Your ease at mine arrival, and for mine own discharge: bringing with me, the Letters and Answers of the Princes, as I hope, to Your majesty's full contentment.  
I will conclude with my most humble thanks unto Your Royal Goodness, for this employment above all other: And with my prayers to God, that the weakness of the Instrument, may not prejudice the excellent intention of the Master and Director.   

1620.  
Instructions to Our trusty and wellbeloved Servant Henry Wotton Knight, at his employment about the Affairs of Germany, to the Emperor Ferdinand to Our Dear Son-in-Law 
JAME'S.  Fred●…ick the Prince Elector, and Count Palatine of Rhine, etc. to the Princes of the Union in Body, or to their Sub-director in place of Our said Son-in-Law; And to other Princes and States, as the Duke of Saxony, Bavaria; and upon occasion, as his particular Letters of Credence shall direct him.  
YOu are to know, that this your employment is, for the present, merely exploratory and provisional, to give Us a clear and distinct account of the present Affairs, both how they stand at your arrival there, (being every day changeable) and how they incline in the future; and particularly, to sound the affections, and the matter, how far they be capable of any reasonable measure of agreement; that from thence We may take judgement, whether it shall be fit for Us to add any others unto you in a main Treaty, with safety of Our Honour, and benefit of the Cause; or to send others in your room, and to release you from that business, to your ordinary Residence at Venice. Wherein We are contented to defer thus much to your discretion; that if you shall find things desperate, and the Emperor's Party absolutely victorious, you may then, after a Currier dispatched unto Us with advertisement of all circumstances, take your way to Venice: If, otherwise, you shall find the Forces on both sides to stand within such terms of equality, as the event is like in probability to continue dubious, and uncertain, you shall then attend the issue, till the blow shall be strucken; and upon all important variations of occurrences, you shall signify the same unto Us.  
2. According to this scope of your employment; you shall hold with all those Pri●…s, from the highest to the meanest, and from those that are most remote in respect, to those that are nearest unto Us in nature and Alliance, the same language; assuring them all, that We constantly continue in Our own Principles, that is, in first desiring the quiet of Christendom, and particularly of those parts, by all possible means, wherein We have formerly expressed by a noble Ambassage of one of Our nearest Servants, before Our Brother the French King did enter into it, and before Our Selves shall be drawn to any other resolution; which We thought meet to make publicly known, both by Our said former Ambassador the Viscount Doncaster, and now by you; leaving the rest to God and time.  
3. Touching your address, first or second, to one part or other, We leave it to your discretion upon the place, when you have consulted with the Princes of the Union in general, or with their Sub-director for the time, whither you may best direct yourself; whom you shall pray in Our Name to assist you therein with their best advice: as likewise in all things else concerning the present Affairs: That after this exploration of the business, being much altered since our first Ambassage, We may know what it shall be fit for Us further to direct.  
4. Whereas We are informed, that the Ambassadors of Our Brother the French King, have Instructions to propound two things, 1. A Surceasance of Arms, 2. An Imperial Diet; you shall signify, that in the first of these motions We mainly concur with Him; and in the other, so far as by the directions of Our Dear Son-in-Law you shall find convenient for the public good, and His own.  
5. Touching the Dukes of Saxony and Bavaria, and any other Prince not comprised within the Union, you shall desire them hearty in Our Name to join with Us for the common tranquillity, that things may not pass to a further irritation of those Princes and States, and particularly of ourselves, which otherwise profess Pacifical and Christian ends: fortifying your exhortation therein with the best reasons that you can collect out of the present Affairs, as they shall appear unto you.  
6. To all Princes whom it may any way concern, you shall make it known, that in the Election of Our Son-in-Law to the Crown of Bohemia, We had no part by any precedent Counsel or practice; which We affirm in the faith and truth of a Christian Prince: And are likewise informed of his own clearness therein, by vehement affirmations, and by most probable Circumstances.   

A Copy of my Dispatch to the King, from Vienna, Septemb. 7. 1620.  
May it please my most Gracious sovereign,  
IF Your Majesty, since my last account from Augusta, of what I had handled with the Duke of Loreign, and Wirtenberg, with the archduke Leopold, and with the Communities of Strasburg and Ulm; shall have expected to hear before now, what I do in this place, the obligation of Your own goodness, and bounties towards me, besides the conscience of my charge and duty, may in the mean while have assured Your Majesty, that no diligence or fidelity on my part hath been wanting in the pursuit of Your Commands and Christian ends, as I hope shall appear by this Dispatch: Wherein first, It may please Your Majesty to understand, that I have been ten days here in Vienna, after I had been four whole days stayed by the Emperor at Clo●…ster-Nyberg on the Dannby, not above a Dutch mile or little more from this Town, whilst a House, and all other things were preparing for my reception: Which course was likewise held with the French Ambassadors in the same measure. During which time of my stay, the Emperor sent me, some Provisions, and withal the young Baron of Harach to conduct me hither, and here continually to assist me, for procurement of my Audiences, or any other conveniences, being a Gentleman of the Emperor's bedchamber, twice heretofore employed in foreign Ambassages, son-in-law to the Count Eckemberg, the Emperor's favourite, and Son to the next of his Counsellors in grace and credit; though the young Baron of Mersberg, Captain of his Guard, was sent to the French, yet I perceive in the choice of this other Gentleman, an equality of respect towards your Majesty was used.  
An hour after my arrival here, he sent to bid me welcome the Count of Mecaw, heretofore Lord chamberlain to the Emperor Mathias, and a Counsellor to this, in tertiis quartisve. I am placed near to the Court, in the House of the Baron de Gabriana, with rich furniture and good attendance, and hitherto at the Emperor's charge, which within a while must cease, of which I have given the Reason in my Letter to Mr. Secretary Nanton. In the mean time I must profess unto your Majesty, that no circumstance of due regard to the Honour of your Name hath been here omitted, but all done with unexpected freedom; in so much as to accompany me at my Table, are sent and admitted Gentlemen of both Religions, and of the best degree, which in the meaner Courts of Germany I have noted to pass with more restraint. Thus much concerning my Reception, which is the formal part.  
Now before I pass unto the material, it is a piece of curiosity to tell unto your Majesty, what discords I here find amongst the public Instruments, which seem somewhat considerable: The French ambassadors have been here about seven weeks, and to this hour are unvisited by the Spanish (though close adjoining them) upon a meager punctuality; for thus it standeth, The French arrived on the Monday at night; the Spaniard sent immediately to welcome them his Secretary, ex forma. They have Audience the next morning following: that passed, the Count Ognate demands leave to visit them in the afternoon; they desire to be excused, being a day of ordinary dispatch. The excuse is accepted; but because they did not afterwards, without a second demand, send him word that they would be at leisure, incrassatus est sanguis, on the Spanish side. A much deeper and incurable case is fallen out betwixt the French and the Extraordinary Ambassador of Parma, who, after the French sent first unto him, as they say, (though he affirms it was the Spaniard) did yet visit the Spaniard before them belike, according to the method of his devotion, and proximity to his Master, or of Authority in this Court: howsoever, hereupon the Duke of Angolesme assigned the same ambassador a day to visit him, and when he came alla buona, he shut his Gates upon him: Which is here generally the worse interpreted, because he is a Bishop, seeming an affront to both his qualifications. In such a touchy time as this, I had almost had my share; to whom, after the three French Ambassadors had sent their three Secretaries (for prevention of the Spaniard) as far as Cloister Newburg, where I made my stop: they were likewise the first here that sent to visit me, but came all three together, and with them Monsieur de Beaugie the Ordinary Agent: Whereupon fell a little disputation between us, Whether visits of respect between Representants of equality, being received in specie, should be paid in individuo? Which seemed unto me no good complimental logic: but finding afterwards, first, that their Commissions were the same; then, that the Emperor had sent to their several Lodgings; and the Pope's Nuncio, though visited in gross, had visited them apart, I made an end of this scruple: yet not before a promise, that if your Majesty should send more Ambassadors hither, they will proceed a la pareille with them: having gained thus much by this small debate, that perchance they think me not over-punctual, nor altogether supine. I have likewise received and rendered to the Spanish Ambassador all due formalities, and from all other Ambassadors and Agents, except the Popes, and the Duke of Parma's, whose habits make us incommiscible. Of the rest I need not speak at all; of the French and Spanish I will presume to speak my opinion, as far as may conduce to the main. I find the French surely of good intention towards a peace here, but not hasty either to believe in truth that the Crowns of Hungaria or Bohemia were Hereditary. Here, at their first coming, they had more credit (as I receive from a good hand) than they seem to have now; which is thought to proceed from the Spanish Ambassador, who in this Court is not only the supreme Counsellor, but hath in truth a Dictatoriam potestatem, as the French find; the reason being not very obscure: for when I put in the major, that the Emperor's resolutions depend upon necessities; and in the minor, that his necessities depend upon Spain, I think I may spare the conclusion. Thus stand the public Ministers here, and thus they stand one with another; which I thought fit to set down, because it hath some influence into the general business.  
Now to proceed to the scope of my employment in matter of substance. I had Audience of the Emperor (as the French) the second day after my arrival, where what I said, will best appear to your Majesty out of the Memorial, which I afterwards [scent] unto him, at his own requisition, here following word for word, as I have translated it out of the Italian, in which language the Emperor treateth most willingly.   

The Proposition of Henry Wotton Knight, Ambassador Extraordinary from his Majesty of Great Britain, delivered in the Name of his Sovereign-Lord the King with all real intention to his Sacred Imperial Majesty, the 23 of August, stylo vet. did contain four points.  
FIrst, That his Imperial Majesty would be pleased to make known his inclination towards a sincere Treaty upon the present Motions.  
Secondly, That it will please him by one or two, or more, to inform the said Ambassador of all the fundamental Arguments in the merit of the Cause, which shall be most faithfully represented by him to the King his Master.  
Thirdly, Either his Imperial Majesty will refuse, or agree to enter into Treaty: In the first case, It were vain for Representants of Princes of good intentions, to spend further the Reputation of their Masters. In the second, His Majesty of Great Britain doth think it most convenient, that both the Parties, together with their Confederates, be contented to condescend to a cessation of Arms for some competent time; lest while their Reconcilements were in Treaty, their passions be more exasperated then before.  
Fourthly, That for the furthering of their Reconcilement, His Imperial Majesty would be pleased to free the passages of Curriers from Vienna to Prague; which shall be procured likewise on the other side.  
Besides these substantial points, the said Ambassador did touch three Considerations about the Person of His sovereign Lord the King, which did render Him with His Imperial Majesty of indubitable credit, although interessed by so straight Bonds in the contrary side.  
First, His majesty's clearness in the beginning of these Motions:  
Secondly, His Neutrality in the progress thereof:  
Thirdly, His Equity in the present.  
Touching the first point, the Ambassador declared in His majesty's Name, with high and holy affirmations, that He had had in Election of His Son-in-Law to the Crown of Bohemia, no participation of Counsel, or foreknowledge. Which His Majesty did not only affirm for Himself; but as indubitably in the Person of His Son-in Law, that he had no way fore-practised that Election.  
For the second point, of Neutrality, the Ambassador said, that His Majesty had not yet given the Title of King to His Son-in-Law, or of Queen to His Daughter, in any Letter either public or private; nor had permitted the same Title, in any Sermons, within His kingdoms.  
As for the third point, of Equity, the Ambassador shown most evidently, the great moderation and aequanimity of the King his Master, in not having settled any firm judgement touching the merit of the Cause, upon information from that side wherein His Majesty is most interessed, without first requiring farther knowledge from the Emperor himself by an express Minister.  
This was the Memorial of my Proposition.  
Four days after, the Emperor sends me word, that his Answer was ready; giving me my choice, whether I would receive it from himself, or else from the Baron of Eckemberg his Principal Counsellor; and, whether verbally, or in writing, or both. In this gracious option, I took hold of the writing, because scripta manent: and wished I might have it from the Baron, without the Emperor's farther trouble, till from it might rise some new occasion. To the Baron I was called two days after; whom I found infirmer of his feet then of his head; for in truth he is a Gentleman of strong conceit, and fair delivery, though (as most of the Court are) tainted with the Jesuit. From him I received (besides compliments, and many thanks, for the honour that your Majesty had done his Master; and vehement protestation of entire belief in your Christian intentions at the present, and of your former clearness) the Paper that cometh herewith, endorsed, Contenta Resolutionis Caesareae data Nobilissimo Legato serenissimi Regis Magnae Brittanniae. In delivery whereof, the Baron seeming much to insist upon the persons [to] whom the Emperor had formerly been content to commit the business: as first, to the four Interposers, whereof the Count Palatine himself was one; then to the whole Electoral college, even after sufficient offence to distaste him from the Bohemians, who would have hindered his Election at Francfort; I say, by these recapitulations perchance silently inferring, that the Germane Princes were the properest Intervenients: I was moved to tell him, that I knew, Your Majesty in this case was more ambitious of the good, then of the glory; and if Your worthier Servants at Prague, and I here, co-operating with the French, could prepare the matter, is it were in Chylo, for a fuller concoction hereafter by more hands, we should think ourselves very happy: With which reply he seemed extremely pleased.  
To the third point, about a Cessation, he spoke somewhat more gloriously, than we here see cause; that things were now too far run on, the Emperor's preparations being made, and his friends in motion: wherein he gave a touch (though more, I think, than he could then say) upon Saxony: he added likewise, that no doubt the Count Palatine was as forward with his powers, and Confederates, naming Bethlem Gabor, and perchance, said ●…e, by his means the Turk I replied (as I had done before to the Emperor himself) that the event of Arms was uncertain; and pitiful to conceive, what desperation might breed: But in the mean time, I had heard wise men of opinion, that the Count Palatine had done the Emperor no d●…spleasure in accepting the Crown of Bohemia, laid upon him by those, which peradventure, might otherwise have placed it on a worse neighbour to these Provinces. To which truth the Emperor (when I said it) nor himself replied any thing: and upon my conscience, so they think.  
To the last, about freeing the Passage, he understood me too largely, as if I had meant the re-establishment of a Current Post, which round about this place is every where broken: but he hath granted his safe Conduct, upon occasion, as far as he is able; though ea conditione, as Your Majesty sees in his written Answer, ut non alias, quam dicti Domini Legati literas deferant. The only point of jealousy that I have met with since my coming.  
To the second, which I make the last, because I have most to say upon it, he told me, that the Emperor would send to my Lodging some Persons of dignity, and knowledge, to inform me in that Cause. As he did, the day after: namely, the Baron people, Great chancellor of Bohemia, the Baron of Straulendorf, Chief precedent of the Aulical Counsel, Der Here Mostitz, Consiliarius Aulicus; the first a Bohemian, the other two Germans: of whose persons I shall afterwards inform Your Majesty. But to proceed: The Errand, delivered by the Great chancellor, consisted for the most part of things I knew were often published already, which I shall the less care for to repeat, because Your Majesty received lately the substance thereof, under the title of,— ex Constitutionibus. & Privilegiis, etc. consigned to me by the said Deputies; and likewise the same again more clearly set down and more fully expressed by a new Author, as yet unknown, a Book the Emperor himself sent me, the day after this Conference, to be conveyed unto Your Majesty. Two things they urged with much vehemency: [First,] certain Letters, both from the Bohemian [Directors.] and which is more, from all the States of Hungary, with pendent Seals; wherein they call this Emperor [King] fifteen month's after they had chosen him, and yet the Chancellor having spoken nothing in all that time, they afterwards pretended that the Election was null. They shown likewise an Original Letter from the Count Palatine himself, dated at Hidelberg April 23. 1619. tempore Vicariatus, to the now Emperor, as King of Bohemia, both in the Subscription, and the Superscription. The second urged point was, that neither the Silesians, nor the Moravians, which concurred in the Election of the Count Palatine, had any power to do it at that time, but that it was approved at their return home, ex post facto. Lastly, all objections made against Ferdinando, in point of Regiment, or Intrusion during the life of the Emperor Mathias, they are contented, for aught I see, to bestow upon Mathias himself.  
This is the substance of a long Conference, beautifully interlarded with divers praises of the Emperor's good nature; which I think truly are due unto him, if he be considered in his own capacity: but these Orators could give it no credit, being, as I hear, the greatest inflamers of all this business, and principally the principallest of them; a man saved at the time of the defenestration, dum regnabat rosa, only by being here.  
This is a faithful Relation of all that hath hitherto passed between the Emperor, or his Servants, and me in this place; wherein your Majesty sees, that I have obtained two things: First, a freedom to propound, and next a freedom to send: whereupon the French Ambassadors, and myself, have this very day accorded to send jointly to Prague, for there we must begin, even in point of civility. This is but an exploratory, and pretentative purpose between us; about the form whereof, and the matter, we shall consult to morrow: and your Majesty immediately upon the return of our Messengers from thence, and some feeling of the Emperor here, shall have knowledge of all by another express Currier.   

Septemb. 23. 1620. Duplicate of Secretary Nantons Letters.  
My Lord Ambassador,  
HIs Majesty hath commanded me to make you this short Answer to your fair and well-digested Relation sent by Ballard.  
1. That He allows very well, and is throughly satisfied with the good endeavours you have used with the Emperor.  
2. That He would have you give thanks to His Imperial Majesty, for the good respect showed to His Majesty in your Person, being His Ambassador; which we conceive, by your lordship's Letters, to have been every way equal at least, if not beyond those demonstrations that have been afforded the French; of which we have received other informations out of France, that they have no more than answered their expectations.  
3. That your Lordship can do no better Service to Christ, and to his Majesty, then to open any fair way to a Treaty. Macte, ergo, & quam nactus es spartam exorna. You have begun well, wherein you have already facti plusquam dimidium: know your own understanding and judgement to be such, and your zeal to the public, and to our Great master's Service, that you will need neither encouragement, nor further directions for the main, than those you carried along with you:  
That you are to deal effectually with the Emperor, not to proceed too hastily to the publishing of the Banne, seeing that would be to deliver over the Patrimony of His majesty's Children unto Strangers; which were an unkind requital of His majesty's Princely, sincere, and moderate intentions and proceed toward him; and must of necessity interest and embark His Majesty in the defence of His children's inheritance; which His Majesty hopes the Emperor will take into his advised and serious consideration.  
This is all I have to recommend unto you for the present, as from His Majesty: for myself, I promise it myself from you, that you are resolved I am and will remain  
Your lordship's most assuredly to do you service. Whitehal Sept. 23. 1620.   

Septemb. 1620. The Copy of my Letter written to His majesty's Ambassadors at Prague.  
S. P.  
I Do address the present unto your Lordships, or in your absence to Sir Francis Nethersole, by this Gentleman Mr. Walter Waller, coming in company of Monsieur de Sigonie, whom the French Ambassadors, Duke d'Angolesme, Monsieur de Bethunes, and Monsieur de Preaux, do conjoin with me in this Dispatch; the scope whereof I cannot well set down, without first telling what doth lead it. I have been here almost a fortnight, well received with all imaginable circumstances due to the honour of our Gracious Master. My proposition to the Emperor did consist of these four points:  
1. That it would please him to make known his inclination towards a sincere Treaty upon the present Motions.  
2. That he would be likewise pleased to instruct me by one, or two, or more Persons, of choice and knowledge, in all the fundamental Arguments touching the merit of the Cause; promising to represent them faithfully to the King my Master.  
3. To condescend to a cessation of Arms for some competent time, lest while the Reconcilement is in Treaty, the passions be more and more exasperated.  
4. That for the furtherance of these good intentions, the Emperor will be pleased to grant Passports for Curriers from Vienna towards Prague, upon all occasions where his Armies lie.  
Of these, he hath yielded to the first and last; namely a freedom to treat (whereof I made some doubt) and a freedom to send; whereupon the French ambassadors and myself have jointly form this present Dispatch▪ to this end, that the Elector Palatine may likewise by your Lordships, or by his majesty's Agent there, be drawn as far as we have disposed the Emperor in the first and last points of my Proposition; for to this hour the Prince Christian of Anhalt (though the French Ambassadors before my coming had written and expressly sent unto him) hath given no Answer, by which conjecture may be made, whether the foresaid Elector will treat or no, or whether the Bohemians will suffer it. Now because if I should end here, so much only as I have hitherto said, would scantly import the price of the carriage, we have thought fit (I speak still plurally in the names of the French and myself) to acquaint your Lordships, and Sir Francis Nethersole, with some ways that have been conceived for the effecting of our Masters good intentions about the public repose.  
It hath been first thought very expedient, that both parties were drawn to remit these great differences to a Diet at Regensburg of Germane Princes, with intervention of foreign Ambassadors.  
Next, some have gone so far (and this both the French and myself profess to have taken up on the way, even amongst the Friends of the Elector) as to project a form of Agreement upon some such Articles as these that follow.  
1. That the Elector Palatine be contented to relinquish the title and possession of the Kingdom of Bohemia.  
2. That the Emperor Ferdinando, according to the first Election of the Bohemians, and by virtue thereof shall enjoy the entire profits and title of the said Crown, during his natural life.  
3. That after the decease of the said Emperor, it shall be free for the Bohemians to choose what King they will, and much more to admit him whom they have designed, namely the Palatine Heir apparent.  
4. That for assuring the immunities of that People, and future freedom in the exercise of both Religions, the Emperor be contented to commit the Regiment of the said Kingdom to the Naturals thereof.  
5. That of Persons on each side banished, whether Spiritual or Civil, nothing be said till a full agreement about the rest. Concerning these things (I mean as well the Diet as the project) the French ambassadors and myself do jointly pray your Lordships, or in your absence Sir Francis Nethersole, by your wisdoms to sound the inclinations of that place where you are, that accordingly we may here, upon your Answer, likewise feel the Emperor (with whom it were ill manners to begin.) Not fixing our conceits upon this which hath now been represented, but leaving it as a bear's whelp, which may be licked into a better form; and remaining here both willing and desirous to receive either this better polished, or some new conception from your Lordships, that we may drive to the wished end: Of all which an account hath been given from hence to our Sovereign Master, that his high and Christian wisdom may approve, or alter what it shall please him. And so commending to Almighty God, the God of Peace and Love, your Lordships and the public health, I humbly rest,  
Vienna. 1620. At your Commandments, H. WOTTON.  
Postsc.  
I have done Mr. Dickenson (my Friend and Consociate in the Treaty at Santoan) a great deal of wrong not to mention him in this Dispatch, if he be with your Lordships, of which I was doubtful.   

The Ambassadors Answer from Prague, Octob. 18. 1620.  
Right Honourable,  
SIr Francis Nethersole communicated unto us your Lordships of the 7th of September St. vet. the 9th present, the impediments of journeying, with the delays we met with at Dresden, having made our arrival so late here, that he had not only given overture to the business, but gained such an Answer, as the present constitution of the state of affairs, and affections of parties would admit: for which we refer you to his Relation to whose endeavours the honour is due. You will easily believe, that we would give all the force we could to second this great good work, so piously intended by our gracious Master, so requisite for Christendom, and so needful to draw our Masters dear Son-in-law, and his blessed Lady, out of the extreme difficulties they are in, and, in this work, to be joined with your wisdom and dexterity. Here you will find ready affections to Peace, to treat, to admit the ways and conveniencies to Treaty, if a cessation of Arms may be accorded: but the difficulty lies to find the medium. The Kingdom of Bohemia, and the Appurtinances, are the very question; and they tell you here, that the granting of a disposition thereof, is to overthrow their privileges, Immunities, and Rights: So to leave the possession of the Kingdom, and to keep it, is to reconcile Yea and No. Yet our earnest longing being to see a good end of our gracious master's blessed designs, we cannot but think of ways to keep on foot the contentment of traffic with you, and communicate them, though but raw indigested conceptions of our own, to be produced further, if your judgement and hope warrant them. This granted, that both Parties have affection to Treat, doth warrant the freedom of access to the Instruments. Whereupon we propound as followeth: That whereas His majesty's Son-in-law (for aught we can find) is resolute to hold both the Title and Possession of this Kingdom, it may be advised, whether the Emperor may be drawn to content himself with the Title, and such a compensation by a yearly proportion of Money, as competerit and equal Arbitrators shall judge to be fit. Hereto may be added, the quitting of Austria on the one part, and restitution of the Palatinate on the other. As for banished Men on both sides, and particular Rights, both Civil and Criminal, the same Arbitrators may deal therein according to equity. Having besides Sir Francis Nethersale's faithful endeavours, sounded with our best lines, and we cannot say found the depth, but a kind of scantling, we offer you to measure, whether this heat of War and Confusion may by such a channel be drawn to a peaceable Haven; the perfect good steering of which, we present to your great practice in affairs of consequence, to the good guidance whereof, we offer all our powers and endeavours, while they may be of use; but if we find no other ground of hope here then we have hitherto, we are resolved to draw towards home; and in that case, your Lordship finding occasion, may continue your addresses to Sir Francis Nethersole, of whose careful correspondence you may rest assured. Wherewith we rest,  
From Prague, October 18. St. vet. 1620. Your Lordships in all true affection to serve you, 

Edw. Conwey.  
Rich. Weston.  
J. Dickenson Secretary assistant.     

Octob. 1620. Amico Veteri S. P.  
ACcepi quas ad me Wormatia dederas Octobris 10. quibus effusiùs respondebo per unum ex meis quem isthac in Angliam destinavi intra triduum.  
jamdiu scis, legatos Gallicos & me simul singulos Nobiles utriusque Nationis cum totidem famulis in Bohemiam ablegasse, ad explorandam Coronati Electoris mentem super eadem ferè Concordiae formula, quam ipsemet mihi Stutgardae injeceras, quamque commemorati legati, credo, etiam hauserant ex eodem fonte. Ex nostris Nobilibus Gallus, nomine Sigonius, solus rediit: Is Anglum in Oppidulo Austriae superioris (quod Freystadt vocant) reliquit sub potestate morbi. Duo Famuli Pragae periere ex Febre Hungarica, quae perexiguo intervallo distat à peste: Literae intactae pervenerunt, per quas incipio conjectari, quam operosares sit circa quam sudamus. Nemo te melius novit, quantulum legati valeant in turbatis temporibus. Igitur rectè videris, exuto Civili munere militare subiisse. Utcunque, benè speramus; & de eventu, qualiscunque demum fuerit, te faciam brevi certiorem. Interim hoc scias velim, natos hic rumores per omnium ora, de magna Bohemorum strage, super Sigonii Galli reditu, tanquam ipse id attulisset: quod profectò in hac Aula est familiaris ludus. Somniant quae volunt; & cuicunque ex Castris advenienti aliquid affingunt; praecipuè paulò ante Mercurii aut Sabbati diem, quo hinc Cursores in omnes oras avolant; quia falsa impressio interdum causa est magnorum motuum. The Memorial Exhibited to his Imperial Majesty by Henry Wotton Knight, ambassador Extraordinary from the King of Great Britain, after his Audience of the 17. of November, 1620. Translated ad verbum from the 
27. Still. nov.  Italian.  
1. THe said ambassador began with thanks in the King his master's Name, for the good Reception he had found here, in all points of due respect to the honour of his Majesty whom he served.  
2. After this, he said, that as his Majesty had to this hour conserved himself purely neutral in the Business of Bohemia, so he would remain hereafter, till more liquid information than he had yet seen from either side, touching the merit of the cause; and would proceed with all real intention in the Christian Office of a mediator, without entering into those of a Judge, and much less of a Party.  
3. That although his said Majesty was resolved to suspend his judgement, forasmuch as might concern the differences between the Emperor and Bohemians; yet he found himself tied both by nature and by reason, not to leave the Patrimonial inheritance of his own descendants, that is, neither the inferior nor superior Palatinate in the hands of any alien Usurper: the said Patrimony being a thing separate from the rest of the present controversy, and so understood in the Treaty of Ulm by the common consent of the Lieutenants of the Union and the League.  
4. That as his Majesty of Great Britain would be unwillingly persuaded, without the Emperors. own affirmation, that the marquis Spinola was by his Order entered hostility into the lower Palatinate; so much less could he believe, that his said Imperial Majesty would lend any Authority ex post facto to so injust an intrusion, by way of proscription, or otherwise; with which the moderate proceeding of his Majesty in the whole progress of this Cause, from the very first motions, should be ill recompensed.  
Lastly, The ambassador besought his Imperial Majesty, according to the declaration of his Will already passed, to condescend actually to a sincere Treaty upon the Bohemian Business, to which the French ambassadors and himself had already jointly disposed the other part.   

A Copy of the Emperors Answer to my Audience, 28. Nou. 1620.  
AD ea quae Serenissimi Magnae Britanniae Regis Legatus nuper, cùm ore tenus, tùm scripto proposuit; Sacratissima Caesarea, & Hungariae Bohemiaeque Majestas, Dominus noster Clementissimus, benignè respondet, uti animum suum ad solidae amicitiae atque benevolentiae studia cum 
a 1. The Style of the Emperor's Chancery when he treateth with Kings, is not Majestas, which he reserveth for himself, but either Serenitas, or Regia Dignitas: This made him angry, when he heard that the French ambassadors styled Bethlem Gabor, Serenissimum: who on the other side, gave them leave to entitle him how they would, adding this Reason, That they were not ambassadors which could make or unmake Kings.  serenitate sua sinceré continuanda proclivem jam tum ab initio Legationis suae dicto Domino Legato declaravit, ita etiamnum eidem s●…se proposito firmiter inhaerere.  
Ad negotium autem Bohemicum quod attinet, in quo Majestati suae Caesareae Regiaeque non alia Controversia est, quam quae Principibus, cum subditis suis rebellibus ad obedientiae metam reducendis esse solet; certó sibi persuadet, Serenissimum Magnae Britanniae Regem, pro singulari sua prudentia atque integritate evidentem, quae pro Majestate sua Caesarea militat, causae justitiam atque aquitatem agnoscere & observare; eoque magis gratum habet, quod Affinitatem, & Genus, & Foedera, Regio sanè judicio, 
b 2. Of these words he taketh advantage, which were in your majesty's credential Letter delivered by me.  infra Conscientiae legem hactenus sese locâsse scripserit. Optâsset autem Majestas sua Caesarea, at hoc ipsum tot auxiliaribus copiis è Serenitatis suae Regnis atque Provinciis iniquissimae causae 
c 3. I wonder he should touch this point, wherein I had cleared both the archduke Leopoldus and the Emperor himself: namely, that the first subsidiary Troops sent towards the Palatinate, were-meerly Voluntaries, without Your majesty's Contribution, and defensively intended, before any noise of the Invasion.  subsidio missis, aut certè permissis, nequaquam Serenitas sua dubium reddidisset: Sed potius Generum suum, non tantùm prudentissimis monitis, atque consiliis, verùm etiam viribus substractis, ab iniqua cupiditate alienis se Regnis immiscendi absterruisset; unde non alius quam optatus alma pacis fructus, & ut Majestati suae in Bohemia, Palatino verò in Ditionibus, quas Majestatis Caesareae, Saerique Romani Imperii beneficio tenebat, res tranquillae persisterent, sperari potuisset. Nunc si in Ditionibus propriis, quas à Suprema Majestate Caesarea, Sacroque Imperio, infeudum cum fidelitatis obsequio recognoscere debebat, quasque Dominus Legatus 
d 4. In declaring Your majesty's Will and determination from the beginning touching the Palatinates, if they should be assailed, I told the Emperor, that though in the single Business of Bohemia You had suspended Your judgement till more liquid proofs; yet You found yourself tied, both by Nature and Reason, not to suffer the Patrimonial Inheritance of Your Own descendants in the hands of an Alien Usurper.  Patrimonium appellat, poenam temerarii ambitus contra Dominum & Imperatorem suum, Serenissimi Regis. Gener experitur, non habet quem culpet, praeterquam quòd animo suo obsecundare, & intempestivis suorum consiliis, quam prudentissimis Majestatis suae Cesareae, Regum, Electorum & Principum, ipsiusque Soceri sui consiliis deferre maluerit.  
Et sanè nullus non iniquissimum aestimabit, si tempestiuè praecavere non liceret, ne Feuda & beneficia quae à Supremo Monarcha fluunt, in propriam suam injuriam redundent: quod quidem Serenissimo Magnae Britanniae Regi (cui perpetuam in Regnis suis pacem ex animo Majestas sua Caesarea precatur) uti rerum humanarum vices sunt, tam aliquando obesse posset, quemadmodum nunc ad injustam Generi causam colorandam praetenditur.  
Hinc itaque Dominus Legatus rationes haud obscurè colliget, quibus permota Majestas sua Caesarea, vigore Constitutionum Imperialium, ad turbatam Imperii pa●…em redintegrandam, & Inclytae Domus suae Iura vindicanda, Primarium Imperii Principem, & Patruelem suum charissimum, Archiducem Albertum requisiverit, à quo 
e 5. At this Audience I told the Emperor, that Your Majesty would hardly be persuaded, without his own affirmation, that Spinola had invaded the Palatinate by his express Order: And much less believe, that he would lend any approbation thereunto ex post facto, by way of Ban, or otherwise. Which action of Spinola, the Emperor doth here assume: But whether such was his meaning, from the beginning; or that his success in Bohemia hath bred this resolution, may be somewhat questionable. Always sure it is, that he affirmed unto the French Ambassadors long since, that the marquis Spinola was to come into Bohemia.  Marchio Spinola cum florente exercitu, Literis Majestatis suae Caesareae Patentibus munitus, adversus eum submissus, qui nulla injuria lacessitus, rebellibus subditis, infami & abominando quibuscunque Regibus & Principibus exemplo, patrocinari, & Regiae Imperatoris atque Domini sui Coronae verticem suum submittere ausus fuit.  
Circa Tractatum de Pace instituendum, declarat se sua Caesarea Majestas ab eodem b●…d quaquam alienum; quodque intellecto Consilio Inclytae Domus suae Principum, nec non Electorum & Principum, quorum hictenus fidelem operam adhibuit, 
f 6. Of this term of 40 days, and the following restriction, not to treat touching any Province that in the mean time shall be reduced to his obedience, I have written the true cause in my Letter to Your Majesty.  intra dies quadraginta circitèr se resolvet: quem tamen Tractatum ad illas saltem prouncias extendi vult, quae interim vel armis, vel alio modo, ad debitam Regi Dominoque suo obedientiam non fuerint reductae; reservato sibi quoque jure interim tum Armis, tum Legibus & Constitutionibus Imperialibus, contra quoscunque Pacis publicae perturbatores, & adversarios suos procedendi.  
Et in his omnibus, quemadmodum Majestas Caesarea jure & recta Conscientia freta, nihil ambigit, omnes Christiani Orbis Reges & Principes ea probare, quae pro omnibus Regibus & Principibus, quantum ad exemplum attinet, gessit: ita quicquid in posterum ex juris praescripto in hac causa sanciet, iisdem facilè se comprobaturam confidit. Domino autem Legato gratiam suam Caesaream clementer offert.  
Per Imperatorem Die nou. 28. Anno 1620.   

Decemb. 4. 1620. A Copy of the Emperors Answer to my Audience, about the Ban or Proscription intended against the Palatine.  
SAcra Caesarea & Hungariae Bohemiaeque Regia Majestas, Dominus noster Clementissimus, iisque Serenissimi Magnae Britanniae Regis Legatus de suspendenda declaratione Banni Imperialis contra Palatinum Rheni Electorem, de expresso 
g 7. In Letters from M. Secretary Naunton of the 23. of Sept. which came so late unto my hands, that the Emperors Ban was already formally touched, and ready to be put to the Print.  Regis sui mandato proposuit, in hunc sensum respondet.  
Magni semper Majestatem suam Caesaream dicti Serenissimi Regis sibi addictissimi, officia, amicitiam, mutuamque cum Inclyta Domo sua Austriaca conjunctionem aestimâsse, & etiam nunc aestimare; ac ne minimùm quidem ambigere, quin si prudentibus & pacificis Soceri sui consiliis. Gener obsecundare, quam turbulentis pravorum instigationibus, atque animo suo morem gerere maluisset, ingens malorum necessitas tempestiuè praecaveri atque declarari potuisset. Cum verò parta nuper, singulari Dei beneficio, propè Pragam contra Majestatis suae Rebelles memorabili victoria, ne nunc quidem dictus Palatinus sanioribus sese conseliis accommodet, sed in eodem inobedientiae tramite 
h 8. This I think was added, out of mere conjecture: For we have heard nothing of the Electors Actions, since his retiring into Silesia.  pertinaciter perseveret, quin etiam refractarios Majestatis suae subditos, atque Provincias quae caeteroquin Regis Dominique sui, à quo desciverunt, gratiae haud dublè sese submitterent, ad Rebellionem malè coeptam, desperatè continuandam animet, atque instiget: Nulla Majestaeti suae Caesareae, hoc loci, benignitatis vel indulgentiae commonstrandae, vel declaratianis poenae etiam ad momentum suspendendae occasio superet. Quae tamen pro innata sibi bonitate, & singulari erga Serenissimum Magnae Britanniae Regem benevolentia, in hoc gravissimo negotio, ea adhuc 
i 
9 So as upon my Intercession the Emperor hath granted some suspense of the Banne: Which I required for two principal Reasons:  
1 Because the King my master's moderation in the Bohemian Business, not Cause, Who was so much interessed in the Persons, did justly merit from the Emperor an exchange of temperate proceeding.  
2. Because such an Imperial Proscription would but more and more inflame the minds of all Princes interessed by reason of blood or State in the subsistence of the Palatine, and would be the cause of a perpetual War in the bowels of the Empire, contrary to the Christian endeavours and wishes of Your Majesty: Whose good intentions were now so manifested to the World by sundry Ambassages, that You were satisfied in Your Own Conscience, and justified before God and man, whatsoever should ensue. I told him besides, that I thought Your Majesty would take it kindly, if at Your request this Proscription were forborn.   temporis moderatione. quam causae justitia, Sacri Romani Imperii Constitutiones, Suprema Officii sui Caesarea Authoritas, & ipsa denique necessitas permissura sint, procedet.  
Per Imperatorem Die 4. Dec. 1620.   

A Dispatch from Vienna, in Decemb. 1620. To His Most Sacred Majesty.  
ALthough I had from Your Majesty a power in my Instructions to departed hence to my other employment, as soon as this controversy should be decided, either by Treaty or by Fortune; yet I have stayed here a month and an half after the battle, that I might view the final resolutions; whereof I shall now render Your Majesty an account: Which I am bound to begin with my humblest thanks for Your benign approbation of my poor endeavours, as I have understood from both Your Secretaries; wherein I see that Your Majesty is still pleased by the excellency of Your Nature, and by the indulgency of your judgement, to accept honest zeal for discretion in your own Creature. Serving therefore so good and so gracious a Master, I will proceed cheerfully to the discharge of the rest, as the affairs stand.  
By my last to Mr. Secretary Nanton, your Majesty understood the cause of Monsieur de Preaux his going into Hungary: And by this you may expect the fruit of his journey: There arriving after news of the defeat before Prague, He found much alteration in their faces, and much altercation in their counsels; about which he was once publicly admitted; where he understood passion enough, being the common language of Nature, but nothing else: for they spoke in their own Tongue. At last this was the Conclusion, That a Gentleman should be immediately dispatched to the Elector Palatine (supposed at Preslaw in Silesia) to understand whether he would join with the Hungarians in a Treaty with the Emperor: and in case of either delay or denial, to make a solemn protestation, that they would provide for themselves: Of the event whereof the Prince of Transilvania undertook by the 15th of this Month, aut circiters to give knowledge hither. I must profess unto your Majesty, that I did little expect (for my part) so much formality from the said Prince, in hoc statu rerum, as to attend a return from Silesia; having before (as hath been written) so closely begun here to practice of his own reconcilement: But the truth is (and well he knows it) that he may be heard when he listeth, by reason of the Turk at his back; under whose shadow he will ●…it himself.  
Now touching mine own peculiar duties. For with Bethelem Gabor and the Hungarians I have nothing to do in single consideration (as your Majesties▪ Servant) till we shall hear whether the Elector your son-in-law, and that Kingdom, will treat with the Emperor conjunctively or no.  
Before the going of de Preaux, I had one access to the Emperor, and two other while he was away.  
The first after consultation here with the French Ambassadors, about the Answer which we had (with no small loss of time and advantage) so late received from Bohemia, addressed unto me by Sir Francis Nethersale in French, as it came to him from the Camp.  
The other two, touching your majesty's declaration of yourself in the Palatine cause, and intercession against the Emperors Bann, as they call it: about which I shall need to trouble your Majesty no further then with the perusal of such Marginal Notes as I have added both to the foresaid French Paper, and to the Emperors two Answers in Latin, which come herewith, and contain all that may concern your latter directions in two Letters from Master Secretary Nanton. Yet I must not omit, that between the second and third of these Audiences, I was visited by the Baron of Eckenberg (the Emperor's inwardest Counsellor and favourite) who spent an hour or two at my Lodging, with much protestation of his master's respect towards your Majesty; of his grief that things were gone on to such expense of blood; of his wishes that your son-in-law had rather taken your majesty's counsel then the Duke of Bovillons; of his forgiving nature; of his desire to recover only his own, and to redeem this Imperial House from open scorn: Lastly, that the King of Spain also had written hither, how glad he would be that your Majesty might have all possible satisfaction. This was after the Emperor had been informed of his success at Prague; whereunto there was, as to all other fair discourse of this kind, but one only reply on my part; That your Majesty might justly promise yourself very good respect here, and good offices from Spain, by the merit of your own moderation in the Bohemian Cause, and by your Christian endeavours for the common quiet with such perseverance. I must not forget likewise to inform your Majesty, that myself visiting here the Spanish Ambassador (as I have usually done after my Audiences with the Emperor) and falling (as I thought might well become me) into wonder at Spinola's intrusions, enough to inflame all Christendom, which your Majesty (measuring other Princes by the equity of your own heart) had no reason to expect. He asked me, after a little deliberation, Whether the marquis of Buckingham were not a Gentleman of Honour? I need not profess how glad. I was of such occasion to do your majesty's Dearest Servant, and mine own most Noble Patron, all the right that my voice could utter; but in truth, on the other side, extremely surprised with so impertinent a question to my discourse, till he eased me with the sight of a Paper out of his Cabinet. It was the Copy of a Letter written by my Lord marquis, in your majesty's Name, to the Spanish Ambassador residing with you; wherein your Majesty did thus far justify the Spanish proceed, As never to have made any promise that they would not assail the Palatinate. Whereupon this Ambassador inferred, that the said Letter written by so Noble a Personage, and in your majesty's Name, was a high discharge for Spain in the point of real dealing. I replied, That indeed I had never heard of any direct promises, or denial made about that matter; but that your majesty's Servants employed therein (whereof I was one myself to the archduke Leopoldus) did rather complain of Answers obseure and ambiguous, and very different from our plain English style. This was all that passed between the Conde d'Ogniate and me, into which I have a little digressed. Now then to recollect how we stand here in point of Negotiation.  
The Prince of Transilvania hath prefixed the 15th day of this Month, or thereabout, (as I said before) for his Term; within which he will signify in what manner he intendeth to Treat, according to the Answer out of Silesia. The Emperor on the other side, did take the term of forty days for the declaring of his mind fully to me and the French Ambassadors, which expire, by our computation, on the 27. of this said Month; intending in the mean time to preconsult with his Friends, or rather (as we perceive) with his Fortunes: And howsoever, Not to Treat of any Province, or part, as then reduced to his obedience. So as plainly enough he chose that respite to contemplate the intervenient changes: For at first he was more tractable; he spoke of no Friends whose advices were before to be asked; he demanded no term to think farther on the matter; he added no restriction: all these are the suggestions of his prosperity. And so we stand in point of business.  
In the state of the Provinces I can deliver nothing but fluctuation and submission, the ordinary consequences of Victory.  
The first were the Bohemians, who forgetting both Oaths and Contracts, yielded up the Original Patent of their Combination to the Duke of Bavaria, as the Emperor's Commissary.  
The next were the Moravians; who after the Count Bucquoy had taken Trigla, one of their wealthiest, and summoned Zuam, the chiefest of their Towns, resolved in a full Assembly of their States, to submit themselves by Deputies, who are hourly expected here.  
The other Appendants to the Bohemian Crown are likely to follow the Moravian example, being incomparably (as hath well appeared) the most resolute piece of the whole knot, and that which gave vigour to the rest, dumb Troja stabat.  
What the Hungarians shall determine of themselves, I will set down in a Postscript; for which I have long suspended the dispatch of this Bearer.  
I cannot conclude without representing unto your Majesty, in all event, two humble remembrances, whereof your higher wisdom may perchance make some use.  
The first is, That I conceive the French King bound to join with your Majesty in the Palatine Cause: I do not mean only by reason of state and jealousy of this spreading House, cujus gliscit potentia, as I may modestly say, nor by Ancient obligation and gratitude to the said Electoral Line, or to your own Kingdoms in the needful days of high, Father, but by a fresher band, even by the Treaty of Ulm, where his ambassadors did intervene: For they tell me, that by virtue thereof, neither directè nec indirectè, any of the Provinces belonging to the League, or to the Union, could be molested by either side. Which the Electors of Mentz and Colen have broken by permission of Spinola; nay, divers ways, by subministration of commodities to his Army. And I hear, that to save themselves, they have procured Patents from the Emperor, that as his Commissaries, they may do some things which they could not do or permit as Leaguers. Always sure I am, that the Duke of Bavaria did three or four days withstand the nominating of the French Ambassadors in the foresaid Treaty, which the other side did as vehemently affect; for no other imaginable reason, within my penetration, then only to engage France in the maintenance thereof. This I have touched, not that I doubt of your accommodating of those things civility without Arms, or that your Majesty shall need (if extremity require the sharpest remedies) any help to vindicate your own descendants from violence; but because en tout cas the conjunction of France would be some ease to the Princes of the Union, whereof your Majesty is the head.  
The other point that I am bold to offer unto your majesty's consideration, is, That the King of Spain himself is bound by his own protestation to revoke Spinola: For therein he declareth, that his meaning was not by assisting the Emperor, Cuiquam Mortalium per injuriam vim infer, aut in aliena cupiditatem suam extendere: which protestation the Emperor received from his own Ambassador in the Spanish Court, and by his Secretary here did communicate the same with me, to be sent unto your Majesty, as I did in my first Dispatch; and have now again sent another Copy, lest the former should be strayed. And so with my humble Prayers to the eternal God for your blessed health and joy, I ever rest,  
Your majesty's long devoted Servant, and faithful Vassal, H. W.  
POSTSCRIPT.  
The expected Advertisement is now come from the Prince of Transilvania to this effect. He greatly complaineth of the faintness and defection of his Confederates in general: And in particular, first, that an Ambassage which he addressed since the battle to the Moravians, with animating persuasions, took no place. Next, that the Elector Palatine (to whom he expressly sent into Silesia Johannes Krauss, Secretary of the Kingdom of Hungaria) hath not vouchsafed him any clear or determinate Answer to the Subject of his Errand, which I have before set down. Nay farther, that the Prince of Anhalt, and the Count of Hollock, came jointly together unto the said johannes Krauss in Preslaw, and there among other discourse told him, That the remainder of this affair was not to be handled by the French Ambassadors, nor by me here; which the French take very sensibly, especially their offer and intercession having before by the said Prince of Anhalt been unaccepted, and a Letter which they wrote unto him, to this hour unanswered; though sent by Monsieur de Ste Catherine, no suspected person, but one who had been so long resident in the Palatiae Court. Upon which premises, they have seriously desired me to testify unto your Majesty (as in truth I am bound) their willingness to have mediated in this cause, and their continual frank and faithful conferences with me about the common end. On the other side, I have desired them to represent things fairly to the King their Master, and not upon any private distaste to abandon the common interest, which so many Princes have in the subsistence of the Palatine. Since this Advertisement from Bethelem Gabor and his Hungarians (who are resolved to Treat singly, and have sent hither to propound it) we have gotten knowledge, that such a Letter is come to the Emperor from the Duke of Saxony, touching the Palatine Elector, as makes us conceive he will use his mediation rather than ours: So as I am preparing towards Venice in this hard season, where (as your majesty's Servant) I have the honour to be much expected and desired, as I hear by their Resident in this place; especially the republic standing in no small perplexity and solicitude at the present divers ways. There I shall attend your majesty's farther directions, and leave the French (as I found them) upon this Stage, till they get leave to departed, for which they have dispatched home an express Currier, intending in the mean time to deal between the Emperor and Bethelem Gabor.   

The Accord of Ulm, June 23. 1620. (mentioned in the foregoing Letter.)  
NOus Maximilian par la grace de Dieu Conte Palatin du Rhein, Duc de la haute & basse Baviere, etc. Et nous Joachim Ernest par la mesme grace, Marquis de Brandenbourg. Duc de Prusse, Stetin, & Pomeranie, des Casoubes, & Wenden, de Silesie, de Croonen & Jagendorff, Burgrave de Nurnberg, & Prince de Rugen:  
Be it known unto all and every one, that seeing as well within the Sacred Empire of Germany, as in divers Kingdoms and Neighbouring Estates, Troubles and Tumults, and Alterations have been on foot, and long continued, whereas not the Catholics only, but the Electors, Princes, and Confederate States of the Religion, have taken occasion to Arm themselves, which indeed hath been the cause of great differences and misprisions, if these preparations of Arms, and levy of soldiers should proceed further on both sides, to offend and destroy one another: Therefore that such despite may be removed, and good friendship between both Parties in the Empire established, We have made a firm and constant Agreement, by means likewise of the French Ambassadors, which were at that time in the Imperial City of Ulm.  
And first of all, We Maximilian Duke of Bavaria, as General of the Catholic League, by virtue of our Authority; and We joachim Ernest marquis of Brandenburg, as Lieutenant General of the Union, by virtue of our Authority, in the presence and approbation also of other Princes, States, Alliants, Deputies with full Power and Authority, do promise and vow for ourselves of each Party, Alliants, Electors, Princes, and States, by all the real Words of Truth and Fidelity, in the best and most stable form that may or ought hold, or stand firm by all the Rules of Right, That none Electors, Princes, Alliants, States, of either Party, in what manner soever, or under whatsoever pretence, neither by themselves nor any other, shall with Arms pertaining to either Party, offend or cut off the Treaty of Peace, nor discommodate, pillage, spoil, attaint, or trouble one another, nor any thing to them belonging, as Electoralities, Principalities, Subjects, Towns, Villages, Revenues Ecclesiastical or Civil: But that as well the Catholics with the gospelers, as they again with the Catholics, be and remain in true and unfeigned Peace, Concord, and Charity, every of them secure in their own Proprieties, without fear of Trouble or Assault. And to the end that this Promise and Confidence (being otherwise required and enjoined between Princes and Neighbouring Estates, by Constitutions of the Empire) may faithfully be continued, it is provided, That the two Armies here near encamped, with all possible speed remove out of the places where they were pitched, without any detriment to either Party, and that they lodge not together in one place.  
Secondly, it is concluded, That if perchance any Elector, Prince, Confederate, State, of either Party, or indeed either of them in gross, should require upon necessity a Passage, by virtue of Ordinances of the Empire, for the Defence and Security of them and their Subjects, having first peaceably given sufficient Caution, neither of them ought to deny it: Provided the same requisition be seasonably made, not upon rash and precipitate Advice, when the Army be upon the Frontiers, or indeed within the Territories of them, with complaint or discommodity of the Subject.  
Thirdly, Forasmuch as We Maximilian Duke of Bavaria, and other Electors, Princes, Catholic Estates and Alliants, have excluded from this present Treaty the Kingdom of Bohemia, with the Incorporated Provinces, and other States Hereditary of the House of Austria, and comprehended within the Treaty, only the Electorals, and Countries belonging to Electors, Princes, and States Confederates of either Party, under which also is contained the Electoral Palatinate, with all Inheritances thereunto belonging, situate within the Empire; They ought not to be expended further, seeing at this present we persist not in these differences, that having nothing common with the rest, but we will keep good Correspondence with them without any suspicion: Which likewise We joachim Ernest marquis of Brandenburg, do agree to the Resolution of the Electors, Princes, and States Catholic, touching the Kingdom of Bohemia, and the United Provinces, with other Inheritances appertaining to the House of Austria, for Us, our Alliants, Electors, Princes and States; and We will no less on our side, that the said Kingdom of Bohemia, with the United Provinces and Countries Hereditary to the House of Austria, be not comprised in this Treaty, understanding as well this Declaration to be for the Electoralities, Principalities, and Estates situate and being within the Empire.  
Fourthly, Whereas during this Treaty, divers times mention hath been made of the Griefs of the Empire not yet decided, the decision of the same is remitted to some more convenient time, seeing this was too short, and the Grievances touched not only those of either Party, but in general all, both Catholic and Evangelical States of the whole Empire, concerning which, for this present, there is no sufficient Power or Authority to determine.  
And seeing both of either Party pretend losses and damages done and received by either side, and particularly at the Village of Sandthaim, and thereabouts, it shall be shortly treated of reasonable restitution for the same. All which things, we Maximilian Duke of Bavaria, and we joachim Ernest, marquis of Brandenburg, as well for us, as for the abovenamed our Confederates, Electors, Princes and States, do promise to maintain and keep inviolably: In witness of which, we have set to our Hands and Seals,  
the 3. July/ 23. June An. 1620. 

Locus O Sigilli Maximilian.  
Locus O Sigilli Joachim Ernest.     

A Dispatch by Ralph from Venice, 1621.  
SIR,  
I Choose at the present to write thick and small, for the closer conveyance of that which followeth, first to your faithful hands, and by them immediately unto our sovereign Lord the King.  
The deputed Cardinals of the Congregation or Committee in Rome touching his majesty's Matrimonial Treaty with Spain, having resolved negatively, even after six Assemblies; the Cardinal Ludovisio and the Spanish Ambassador went jointly to the Pope, to pray him, that by no means the negative resolution might be divulged as yet, but suppressed for a time; because some turns were to be done by the concealment thereof. Hereupon the Ven●…tian Ambassador, by name, Reniero Zenocia, (the most diving man that ever the republic hath held in that Court, and of much confidence with the Pope upon old acquaintance) observing that the foresaid Congregation had voted, and that their censures were concealed; comes to the Cardinal Ludovisio, the Pope's Nephew, beforenamed, and extracts from him the whole matter, with the means and reason of the suppression. This I have received from a credible, and I would say, from an infallible fountain, if it did not become my simplicity, in a point so much concerning the eternal dishonour of a great King, to leave always some possibility of misinformation. Yet thus much more I must add, not out of intelligence, but from sober discourse; that although the present Pope hath been hitherto esteemed more French, than any of his Predecessors a great while; yet is not the King of Spain, such a Bankrupt in Rome, but that he might easily have procured an assent in the forenamed Congregation, or at least a resolution sooner, than after five or six meetings of the deputed Cardinals; unless delays had been studied. Be it how it will; as to his Majesty doth belong the sovereignty of judgement; so to his poor honest Creatures abroad, the liberty of relation, and a frank discharge of our zeal and duties. To which I will subscribe my unworthy Name.  
Venice, Feb. 15/25. 1621.   

A Dispatch about the King of Bohemia's Affairs at Venice, 1622.  
Right Honourable,  
I Have formerly acquainted his Majesty, through your hands, how myself being then in Padova under physic (of late my familiar evil) I was recalled to Venice, by the arrival here of Seignor Filippo. Calandrini, expressly sent to solicit some contribution from this republic to the support of Count Mansfelt's Army, wherein my joint endeavour was required by Letters from the Elector himself (as then at the Hague) And likewise I was thereunto the better enabled by very careful instruction from Sir Dudley Carlton under cipher, of the whole business how it stood. Neither did I need any new immediate Command from his Majesty, to serve in the Cause of his own descendants, especially after your Letters of the 19th, of January, by Order whereof I had before in his Royal Name made a general exploration here of their good will towards us, and now by the present employment of the foresaid Calandrini, as also upon Letters from the Elector to this Duke, (whereof the delivery and pursuit was recommended to me) I found apt occasion to descend à Thesi ad Hypothesin; which with what discretion it hath been handled, I dare not say; but sure I am, with as much zeal and fervour, as the capacity of my heart could hold; whereof the account is now due, as followeth:  
Two full Audiences I had upon this Subject at mine own demand, and a third at their calling as long as both the former. In my first (to make it appear more serious than an ordinary duty) I told them I would do that which I had never done before. For whereas we commonly leave the reference of our Propositions to a Secretary of the State, who stands always by the Ambassador, and is the transporter both of our Arguments and of our affections to the Senate: The Tribunal where we speak being not diffinitive (which is no small disadvantage) I now promised to ease his memory myself with an extract of what I had said, which was accordingly sent him the next morning, containing two principal heads:  

1. The merit of the Cause;  
2. The community of the Interest;   
Both as clear as the Sun. For touching the first, the question now was only the recuperatione proprii, violently invaded: In the course of which action, it did appear by pregnant inferences, lately published, together with those intercepted Letters which friar Hiacintho, an outcast from this Town, did carry in his Wallet, that the Duke of Bavaria had practised the Electorate of Rhine before the true Elector was called to the Crown of Bohemia; which I thought the fit to be touched; for that I knew the Duke had newly received a Copy of the said divulged Letters from his Agent at the Hague, and it was a point of great impression.  
Now their Interest was as plain as the Case itself: For if such violences shadowed with Imperial Authorities, should likewise be countenanced and comforted with success, what could hinder, within a while, the same Torrent to overflow Italy, and especially this Dominion, circondato da affetti poco sicuri d'ogni intorno, as I told them I might well say, even with modesty. These premises being laid, I inferred, that his Majesty, upon a Cause so just, and a common Interest so clear, was most confident in the wisdom of this grave Senate, that having spent with palpable benefit in their last Motions of fresh memory qualche bona summa (indeed about two millions of ducats) to maintain a diversion so near at hand as i'll pied delli Monti, they would find it more reasonable to foment the like further off; all diversions and revulsions (both politic and Natural) being so much the more effectual, by how much the more remote. Lastly, that though his Majesty in exchange of that open, frank, and voluntary Declaration, which he made of himself heretofore in time of their Troubles, might now expect the like again from them ex aequo; and that no Prince living known better what the declared Authority of a Dominion so eminent, would import to the sum of the business. Yet not to press his Friend too far, his Majesty would be contented with a silent Contribution without noise, under any form that should best please them, and in such proportion as should be conformable to their Love; whereby they should oblige his Royal Person and Progeny, not to be wanting unto them in any of their own just Occurrents. This was the substance of my first Audience, and of my Memorial sent to the Secretary. At my second, after I had pressed the same Inducements more effectually, and informed them that the Elector was now gone in Person to add vigour to his Subjects, so as their help could never come in a better season: I fell to tell the Duke, that though it could not become my simplicity to prescribe any form to so wise a Prince, yet I would ●…rave leave to insinuate thus much that they might under the Name of the States (with whom their Confederacy was already known) pass their good will towards his Majesty and his Son-in-law, without any further imaginable noise, by adding what they should please moreover to that Contribution (whereunto they are tied by League) of 50000 Florins, or 5000 l. sterling per mensem, for which surcrew (whatsoever it should be) the States would be answerable to the Elector. Nay farther, I told him, albeit now by long service, and by the very conscience of my zeal towards them, I might presume to merit some part of their confidence; yet I would therein dispense even with mine own ambition, and undertake as much likewise for Signior Calandrini, leaving it free unto them to exercise their friendship through the hands of Signior Surriano, their own Minister at the Hague, without acquainting us here with their determination, for the more silent carriage thereof: yet withal, I was not tender to re-intimate unto them, that both the King my Master did merit a Noble and open Proceeding; and on the other side, this republic was by God's blessing so powerful, as they should not need to smother their Resolutions in so just a Cause. In conclusion I told him, that I did languish for the senate's answer; for well I knew that they are much guided, like the wisdom of a Merchant, by accidents, which makes them so prone to defer, still harkening how things fall or rise, and accordingly shaping their Counsels. Between these Audiences Signior Calandrini did likewise twice interceded in name of the States, whose persuasion (as their Instrument) he spent apart from mine, though otherwise our agreement was well enough known.  
On Wednesday last, some five or six days after my second Audience, I was called to college, and the Senates Answer read unto me very loud and treatably, as the Duke willed the Secretary; whereof yet I required a second reading, for Copies are not usually granted; which I must note for another disadvantage of moment in negotiating with this State, because they may appeal from our Memories. In this Answer were repeated, with some new beautifying, the three points wherein they did pretend to have prevented his majesty's former imploration of their concurrence, when he wrote his own Letters in behalf of his Son-in-law. The three points were these:  
1. Their Contribution to the States, by which they maintain in those Provinces 4000 men.  
2. Their Entertainment and Pensioning of the Count Mansfelt, with intent to fix him where he is, who else might have been drawn away by other offers.  
3. Their Promise to join with the French King and Savoy in the Rhetian business.  
All which three, they call Points of Common Interest with his Majesty, and of Common Benefit to the Elector by way of Diversion; and two of them Actual engagements of this republic. Now to these in the foresaid Answer, they added a fourth, for a little stronger excuse at the present; namely, a fresh and sharp Insurrection amongst the Grisons, where the Patriots of the Dieci dritture, seemed to have overmatched the Party of the archduke Leopoldo with such considerable success, that the Can●…on of Surick (who are nearest the truth) are likewise in some motion to help them; so as this State expecteth also to be called to that Feast, and well inclined thereunto. This was all the new garnishment that I could observe in their Answer. Towards the end whereof I was much surprised with their telling me, in plain terms, that his Majesty was well satisfied with those former Demonstrations of their good will in the Common Cause, represented unto him by their Ambassador La●…do, as he had written hither. To which Point, though the last of theirs, I replied first, That indeed his Majesty (whose excellent heart doth believe always the best of his Friends) had no reason to mislike their former Answer: And so far I had co-operated with their own Instrument, as to represent it con buon' sapore; but yet no further than the matter would bear, which was but a generality of good will, and no direct satisfaction. And whereas now they did desire me likewise to reiterate to the King my Master, their great sensibility of the Common Interest; I told them ingeniously con un' stringer di spalle, that I knew not well how to do it, till they gave me more subject: For Philosophy (whose naked Principles I had more studied than Art of Language) had taught me, even in one of her most Fundamental Maxims, that ex nihilo nihil fit. Hereupon the Duke fell very seriously to dilate upon the senate's Answer, and left me indeed with some occasion of contentment: For he told me, I might mark by the said Answer, a Resolution in the Senate not to neglect a Cause wherein they held themselves so interessed, and (as had been said before) already actually engaged, though the business of the Grisons, and the new noise from thence did at the present distract them. Of this I took presently hold; replying, That I would receive this Speech as a Commentary upon the senate's Answer; and represent unto his Majesty, that when the principal reason of their excuse should cease, namely, these fresh stir so near them, which seemed to require their abetment, than they would give us more particular satisfaction. For which (to rivet it the better) I gave thanks, and told him, I would hearken after the issue of this Rhetian noise, and accordingly put him in mind again of our own necessities: to which he gave me un gratioso accenamènto, and so fell to tell me, with extreme gladness, their news of the late defeat given by Mansfelt to the Bavarian Troops.  
Now to collect the fruit of my poor endeavours, thus we stand; If action shall grow on this side, we shall surely receive more benefit by that diversion, than we should by contribution: For the archduke Leopoldo would by chance be drawn from Alsatia to think of Tirol; and the Neapolitan and Milan Levies, which should supply Germany, will be spent here. If Italy be quiet, than (dicam audax verbum) this State must necessarily help us, that it may be so still; for I shall not need to make them sensible of the vicissitude of humane, troubles, either here or there, which is their common Text: But all dependeth upon his majesty's urging of his own merits, which was my highest Argument, together with that Obligation which he will acknowledge, as his own gracious Letters import.  
This account I send with some diligence, that it may prevent the new Venetian Ambassadors first Audience, or at least the leave-taking of the old; into whom it may please his Majesty to infuse his good thoughts, and to take notice of these Audiences which I had here in the way of his Service. And so the Lord of Heaven bless Him and His.  
 
POSTSCRIPT.  
Signior Filippo Calandini came hither with Instructions from the States, much resembling a Quadruple entrenchment; wherein being beaten from the first, he was to retire to the second, and so forth. The first was, To solicit a free and open Contribution. The second, That they would at least Contribute under the Name of the said States. The third, That they would Contribute jointly with the States. The fourth, That at least they would pay the Arearages of 10000 Florins per mensem, that have run due by virtue of their League, from the 9th of April, 1621. Since which term, the said States pretend to have reentered into Action; and in this Case the States promise to contribute five of those Months to the Elector. Now, considering the hopeful Answer that I have received, I have dealt with Signior Calandrini, to spend the persuasion of the States in the first point absolutely; and in the last, to urge only the Arearages upon the Contract, without adding the intention of the States to contribute any portion thereof to the Elector; lest it might prejudice the hope of a greater Contribution, which no doubt his Majesty may have from hence, if it please him to urge his own merits.   

1624. S. P.  
I Send you both the enclosed, unclosed, and my Seal withal, that when you have perused them, you may seal them; for because they contain a recommendation of yourself, it were somewhat incongruous to present them open.  
You had yesterday received them, but that I suspended my hand too long in expectation of James; about whom we are yet in much doubt of some misadventure by his stay. You see that in the Postscript to the Duke, I mention the design of Caprarola, which I have left out of his Letter, that you may not come unto him with empty hands.  
It shall be fit for yourself to offer him your service abroad, which I have (as you see) offered the Prince through Mr. Thomas Carie's hands, who, I hope, will let his Highness see my Letter.  
And so languishing to hear somewhat from my Nephew, with all my duties remembered to all, I rest,  
This Tuesday Morning. Your ever true Friend, HENRY WOTTON.  
Upon the Design you must play the Mountebank. And tell the Duke, that the one Paper containeth the Plant or ground-Lines, the other, the reared work, in Perspective with all the Dimensions so exactly, as if it please him he may easily have a Model made thereof in pasteboard.  
If Mr. Thomas Cary should by chance have been sent away again into France, then deliver, with my humble service, the Letter to my Lord of Lepington his Father, and beseech him to show it the Prince.   

May, 1626. The Copy of my Report after the Examination of the Lord of Oldebare's Daughter.  
ACcording to His majesty's good pleasure signified unto me by an Order from His Counsel. Table, under the 19th. of May, and delivered by an express Messenger on Monday morning the 22. of the said month, at His majesty's college of Eton, that I should examine the Lord of Oldebare's Daughter, now resident in the Town of Windsor, in the circumstances of a business which His Majesty had committed to my trust; vid. concerning a certain Roll of Names mentioned in a late malicious defamatory Pamphlet, which one George Eglisham had scattered in Print; pretending therein that it was a Roll of divers great Personages which were to be poisoned by the now Duke of Buckingham, and among those Great ones, the said George Eglisham himself for one; which said Roll (as the said Eglisham affirmeth) the foresaid Daughter of the Lord Oldebare had brought to the late Lord marquis of Hamilton her Cousin, who was one of the enrolled to be poisoned; grounding this defamation upon the testimony of that Roll, brought by the said Gentlewoman to the foresaid marquis: I say, According to His majesty's Command herein, I 
When I had first enquired out her Lodging.  repaired, the next day after the receipt thereof, to the said Lord of Oldebare's Daughter, by Name Anne Lion, (though not nominated by the foresaid Eglisham, but under her father's Title) at her Lodging in Windsor, where I found her accompanied with her younger Sister, and a Gentlewoman of her attendance, who were all three in the Room while I spoke with her, and I brought in with me Mr. Michael Branthwait, heretofore His majesty's Agent in Venice, as a Gentleman of approved confidence and sincerity. At my access unto her, because I was a stranger, and the business somewhat harsh and umbrageous, I laboured to take from her all manner of shadow touching herself; which in truth I found very needless: For after I had showed her my Commission, and the places in Eglisham's Book wherein she was traduced for a Witness of this foul defamation, she was so far from disguising or reserving any circumstance, that she prevented all my inquisitiveness in some Questions which I had prepared, making a clear, a free, and a noble report of all that had passed, which she did dictate unto me, as I wrote in her Window, in her own words, without any enforcement or interruption, as followeth:  
At His majesty's being in Spain, a carrman of one Smith a Woodmonger in Westminster, found a Paper, as he said, and gave it to my mother's footman to read, whose Name was Thomas Allet, who brought it immediately to me; it was half a sheet of Paper laid double by the length, and in it was written in a scribbled hand, the Names of a number (above a dozen) of the Privy Counsel: some words had been written more, which were scraped out. The Names were not writ in order as they were of quality. In it, next to the marquis of Hamilton, was writ, Dr. Eglisham to embalm him. No mention of poisoning, or any such thing, but very Names. I not knowing what it might import more, the marquis of Hamilton not being at that instant in Whitehall, I sent for james Steward Servant to the Duke of Richmond, and desired him to show his Lord that Paper, wherein was his Name. He said he would not present it himself, but would give it to Alexander Heatley, his Secretary: So he took the Paper from me; and within a day or two after he brought it back to me, and said, the Secretary thought it not necessary to trouble his Lord with all, for as he did conceive, some that had a Cause to be heard before the Privy Counsel, or in the Star Chamber, had written these Names to help his own memory, to reckon who would be with him or against him. Immediately then I sent the said Allet to David Strachen, Servant to the marquis of Hamilton, and bade him give that to his Lord from me immediately; which he said he did, and that his Lord read it, and put it in his Pocket.  
These are the very express and formal words, which this noble Gentlewoman, with a very frank and ingenious spirit, as I am bound to testify of her, did dictate to me, in the presence of the abovenamed: Whereby may appear to any reasonable creature, what a silly piece of malice this was, when Mr. Alexander Heatley, a Gentleman of sober judgement, to whom the Roll was first sent, though that be concealed by Eglisham, did think it too frivolous to be so much as once shown to his Master, howsoever named therein. At this first Conference, as I was ready to departed, my Lord of Oldebare's Daughter desired of me a view of the Book, out of which I had read her some passages, wherein her Name was traduced; which could in no equity be denied. So I left it with her till the next day, praying that I might then have her full judgement of it: When repairing again unto her, she told me as freely as the rest, in the hearing of the same company as before, except her Gentlewoman, that Eglisham had gone upon very slight grounds in so great a matter.   

The Copy of my Letter to the Duke about the same Examination.  
I Send unto your Grace by this Bearer, Mr. Michael Branthwait, the Examination of the Lord of Oldebare's Daughter, touching the Roll of Names said to be found in Westminster, of Great Personages which were to be poisoned here, while you were in Spain: In the delivery whereof, I have been careful, as an Examiner, and Relater, to set down nothing but her bare and free report; which is the Historical part: The Critical now remaineth; for after the examination of circumstances, there is a liberty of judgement.  
I have seen many defamatory and libellous things of this nature, abroad and at home; though for the most part always without truth, yet oftentimes contrived with some credibility: But this appeareth, in the whole contexture, utterly void of both, even though we had never known your Grace; nay, I will say more, though we had known you to be as bad, and as black, as this Author would paint you. For first, the main ground upon which he would raise this defamation, is the foresaid Roll of Names, found, forsooth, not in a Cabinet, but in a dirty Street. Now, when we come to hunt it home, the authentical Instruments that should give it credit, are a Carrman, and a Footman; till at last it came to Mr. Alexander Heatley: a Gentleman indeed (as I have conceived of him) of sound abilities. Then what does he with it? Marry, He thought it so frivolous, that albeit it had passed to him through the hands of a noble Gentlewoman of his own country, yet he would not once trouble the late Duke of Richmond his Master so much as with a sight of it, though his said Master was one of the enrolled. Then, it comes back again, and the Gentlewoman conveyeth it by another hand to the late marquis of Hamilton: What doth he with it? It sleeps in his Pocket. There, we are not only at a fault, in the hunter's term; but at a rest, as if we were but playing at Tennis: I am sorry to charge the memory of that Worthy Gentleman, to whom I was much bound for his favour, so far as his Doctor hath laden him; that if he thought it more important than Mr. Heatley did, either by want of charity he would smother so horrible a practice against the lives of at least a dozen of his colleagues in Privy Counsel, or for want of courage not prosecute his own Cause: Especially, your Grace (whose power this Pamphletter doth allege for the impediment of all prosecution) being then (as appeareth by the Examination) in Spain.  
Much more might be said upon the matter: but I value, not only your Graces, but mine own time at a greater price: Yet I have committed a remembrance or two to this Bearer; for whose sincerity I am bound to answer, because I did choose him for a Witness in the Examination. One scruple only I had in point of formality, Whether I should address this account or no to the Counsel. Table, whence I received the Commission. But considering, that it came unto me, though by Order from thence, yet under the King's trust; I have directed it to your hands, whom it most concerneth.  
I had waited with it on your Grace in person, but that in truth, some straitness by distillations in my breast, makes me resolus to enter anew into a little course of physic. And so having discharged this duty according to my Conscience and capacity, I humbly leave your Grace in God's blessed love; remaining,  
Your Graces ever devoted and professed Servant, HENRY WOTTON.   

1626. The Copy of my Letter to the Queen of Bohemia.  
Most Resplendent Queen, even is the darkness of Fortune,  
I Most humbly salute Your Majesty again, after the longest silence that I have ever held with You, since I first took into my heart an image of Your excellent virtues. My thoughts indeed have from the exercise of outward duties been confined within myself, and deeply wounded with mine own private griefs and losles; which I was afraid, if I had written sooner to Your Majesty, before time had dried them up, would have freshly bled again. And with what shall I now entertain Your sweet Spirits? It becomes not my weakness, to speak of deep and weighty Counsels, nor my privateness, of great Personages: Yet because I know Your Majesty cannot but expect, I should say somewhat of the Duke of Buckingham, whom all contemplate, I will begin there; and end in such comforts as I can suggest to Your present Estate: which shall be ever the Subject both of my Letters and of my prayers. But before I deliver my conceit of the said Duke, I must use a little Preface. I am two ways tied unto him: First, for his singular love to my never forgotten Albertus; therein likewise concurring with Your majesty's inestimable affection. Next, for mine own particular, I hold by his mediation this poor place, as indeed, for the benefit, I may well call it, though not for the contentment: But if it were worth Millions, or Worlds, I protest unto Your Majesty (to whom I own the bottom of my heart) I would not speak otherwise of him, than I conceive. Therefore, setting aside both fears of Parliament, and hopes of Court, I will spend my opinion, which is all my freehold.  
And truly (my most gracious and Royal Mistress) I cannot weigh his Case without much wonder: being one of the strangest (all considered) that I ever yet took into my fancy. Not, that the Commons assembled should sift and winnow the actions even of the highest of the Nobility: Not, that an obscure Physician then among them (ambitious of some glory out of his own profession) should dare to give the first onset on so eminent a Personage: Not, that such a popular pursuit once begun by one, and seconded by a few other, should quickly kindle a greater Party. These are in their nature no marvels, nor Novelties. Neither can I greatly muse, that in a young Gentleman, during thirteen years of such prosperity and power, the height of his place exposing him to much observation and curiosity; the Lower House l●…kewise opening the way to all kind of complaints, (as they did;) and examining nothing upon Oath, (as they never do;) there should be matter enough gleaned to make up thirteen Objections, and none of heinous degree: For after such bolting to the quick, even among men of far meaner managements, I think there would be found every where some Bran. Therefore I can pass all this over with easy belief. But there is a consideration or two, which do much confound my judgement. First, for the matter itself: That this very Noble man, who at the Parliament of 1623. was so universally applauded and celebrated in every corner, as a great Instrument of the public good, (in so much as for my part, I conceived him then to be that which few or none had been before in all ages, No less favourite, I mean, to the People, then to the King) should now be pursued with these dislikes, when for the most part the very same Objectors were in the foresaid Parliament, and the very same Objections (except one or two) might as well then have been alleged: This is, I must confess to my understanding a Labyrinth. Again, When (from the matter turning to the Person) I view the fairness and equality of his temper and carriage, I can in truth descry in his own nature, no original excitement of such distaste, which commonly ariseth, not so much from high fortune, as from high looks. For I most ingeniously avow unto your Majesty, that among all the favourites which mine eyes have beheld in divers Courts, and times, I never saw before a strong heart, and eminent condition, so clearly void of all pride and swelling arrogancy, either in his face or in his fashion.  
These are partly the Reasons that make me wonder, how such offence should grow like a mushroom in a night. But there is one thing above all other that hath strucken deepest into my mind, and made me see, how the greatest men have this unfortunate adjunct in their felicity, to be sometimes obnoxious to the foulest and falsest reports; whereof in the person of this very Duke himself, I shall lay a monstrous example before your Majesty, out of mine own particular knowledge and employment.  
It pleased my Sovereign now being, to direct unto me hither a Commission to examine my Lord of Oldebares Daughter, by name Mistress Anne Lion (I think sometimes not unknown unto your Majesty) then resident at Windsor, about an abominable Pamphlet published and printed towards the time of the last Parliament, in divers Languages, by one Doctor Eglisham, a Scottish physician, who therein chargeth the Duke of Buckingham with such trifles as these: The death of the marquis Hamilton, his near Friend and Ally; the death of our late King, of ever blessed memory, his most dear Master; the intended deaths of divers Counsellors of Estate, his Associates: painting, in effect, a nature far beyond that of Richard the Third, when he was Duke of Gloucester. And for a Witness hereof he traduceth the foresaid Gentlewoman, or rather as the main ground of his whole Book: which occasioned her examination, at the Duke's pursuit against himself; whereof I send your Majesty a Copy herewith, as I took it from her own free delivery; wherein you shall see a bare Note of a few Counsellors Names, found at first, not in the Duke's Cabinet, but in the very kennel of King-street by a Car-man, Servant to a Woodmonger: Secondly, by him brought to a footman; by which honourable degrees it came to the Gentlewoman all dirty. And at last, it is turned by this Doctor into Bill of Personages to be poisoned, out of a very charitable interpretation then reigning in him. I am doubtful, what passion it will most stir in your Majesty, when you read the Circumstances; whether mere laughter at such a ridiculous slander, or a noble indignation at so desperate impudence. And so not to stay any longer upon this Cobweb, I will end with such comforts as I propound to myself in contemplation of your present being.  
The first shall be a general impression which we have taken of his majesty's Nature: And it is this, That he is not only (to consider him absolutely in his own composition) of singular virtue and piety, and resolution in good; but likewise (to consider him relatively) he is an excellent Husband, Brother, and Friend. I call favourites the Friends of Kings, as your Majesty (who is so well versed in the best of Books) knows I may do with very good warrant: For was not Hushai the Archite so styled to David, and after him Zahud to Solomon? Nay, had not the Highest of all Examples, in the time of his Humane lowness, both among the living a Beloved that lay on his bosom, and another also whom he calls his Friend, even when he called him from the dead? Thus much I could not abstain to let fall from my pen, by the way, against all murmurers at any singularity of affection, which abound both in States and Families. But of these three Relations, I will now only contemplate that which respecteth your Majesty; which indeed is as clear and visible as the rest: For surely all the Parliaments that our most Gracious Sovereign hath hitherto assembled, and all the Actions that he hath undertaken abroad, either of himself or by combinations, and his private Counsels at home, have principally leveled at your support and restorement; as the Deliberations likewise that went before, in the latter time of your most blessed Father. So as your Majesty, in the justness of your Cause, and in the sweetness of your Nature, doth stand firmly invested in both the titles of as beloved a Sister as you were a Daughter. And I am confident, that our living and loving God, who did accept the zeal of your Royal Brother, and bless his own and the public devotions at home, with almost a miraculous conversion of the infirmity which raged, into health, and of the sterility which was feared, into plenty; will likewise find his own good time to favour our pursuits abroad.  
Your majesty's second comfort, is the universal love of all good Minds. To which I may justly add, a particular zeal in him who is nearest his Majesty, to foment his best desires towards you; which he hath expressed sundry times within my hearing.  
The last and inwardest consolation that I can represent unto your Majesty, is yourself, your own soul, your own virtues, your own Christian constancy and magnanimity: Whereby your Majesty hath exalted the glory of your sex, conquered your affections, and trampled upon your adversities. To conclude, you have showed the World, that though you were born within the chance, yet without the power of fortune.  
And so having sought to redeem so long a silence, I tear. with too long a trouble; I will promise your Majesty to commit no more of the former fault, and humbly beg your pardon for the other: ever and ever remaining,  
Your majesty's poor Servant with all humble and hearty devotion, HENRY WOTTON.   

To my most dear and worthy Friend, Mr. John Dinely, at the Hague.  
My ever most dear Jack Dinely,  
THe Queens last Letter (wherewith her Majesty did too much honour me) coming when my voices of any value were no more in mine own power, was nearer a torment then a surprisal. It shall teach me to reserve myself, as wiser men do, for such supervenient temptations, I must confess, above all strength, if the least possibility had been lest. It is true, I could have given him a latter place: but in that, I should have disgraced the suitor, and disrespected the Commander. I have therefore rather chosen to put him in the Vanguard the next year, being the Son of a soldier, than now in the Rear. And this is the sum of my humble answer to her Majesty, though in other terms.  
Your Anthony (who is my Guest every Saturday night) is well grown in stature, and more in knowledge. I verily believe he will prove both a wise and learned man, and certainly good. We have passed over quocunque modo the most troublesome Election, that, I think, was here ever seen. Wherein, according to my usual fashion, I have lost four or five friends, and yet I thank God, not gotten the value of one Harrington: So as they are angry at me on the one side, and they laugh at me on the other. If my most gracious Mistress will in her goodness be pleased to drown her displeasure till the next turn, I shall cheerfully in the mean time, bear the weight of mine own simplicity.  
I have gotten, with much ado, some of the Psalms translated by my late most blessed Master, for the young Prince of Bohemia, (which is one of your memorial that have slept too long by me) and I have ransacked mine own poor Papers for some entertainment for the Queen: which shall be sent together. Though it be now a misery to revisit the fancies of my youth, which my judgement tells me, are all too green, and my glass tells me, that myself am grey. Till my next, let me trouble you no farther. The love of God be with us, and we are well.  
Your poor true Friend, HENRY WOTTON. From the college at midnight, the 12. of August, 1628.  
I hear that one hath offered to the Prince of Orange, an invention of discoursing at a great distance by Lights: Is it true?  
A Noble Lady who is desirous to bestow her Son at Leyden, would fain be first informed, what commodity for education the place doth yield: wherein you shall do me and her a great favour.   

To my very worthy and ever dear Friend, Mr. John Dinely, at the Hague.  
My ever dear Jack Dinely,  
YOur last of the 6th. of October were welcome beyond all expression: intimating a hope that I shall see yourself shortly; which will be mille Epistolae. I do not see how you can fail of the thing whereof you write, if you come quickly. The Letter in your behalf from our Royal Mistress to his Majesty here, is too faint, being moulded in your own modesty: Therefore, I have a little invaded it, with some violence unto you. When you consult with me about the Personage that should first, or second, or tertiate your business with the King, I must answer as Demosthenes did of Action; My Lord Thresorer, My Lord Thresorer, and so again. We contemplate him, not only in the quality of his Place, but already in some degree of a Privado; and even the fresh introducement of Sir F. Cottington to the Counsel-Table, is no small argument of his strength, though otherwise a Subject of merit.  
I hear likewise, that his own sorraign employments have given him a great taste of things abroad: So as you will not find him incurious to discourse with you: And I verily believe, that he will take an address of you from the Queen unto him, as the principal Personage, to the heart; wherein, methinks, it were fit and proper, that her Majesty would be pleased likewise to favour you with some lines to my Lord Conaway, because they were joined in Ambassage unto Her at prague. This is all that I shall need to say, till your own coming. Your little Anthony prospers extremely well; and I dare now say, he will prove a good Scholar. And so being in truth in no very cheerful disposition at the present, but newly come out of two or three fits of an Ague, I will trouble neither of us both any further: ever resting,  
From London, ready to return to my Coll. at Eton, this 13. of nou. 1628. Your poor professed Friend, HENRY WOTTON.  
If the Queen have not heard the Epitaph of Albertus Morton and his Lady, it is worth her hearing, for the passionate plainness 
Authoris Incerti. : 
He first deceased. She for a little tried  
To live without him: liked it not, and died.   
POSTSCRIPT.  
In a Letter under this date to her Majesty, I conclude with a supplication, that She will be pleased to receive a Page, at the joint suit of the House of Bacon's: A Boy of singular spirits, without aggravation of her charge; for he shall want no means to maintain himself in good fashion about so Royal a Mistress. I pray hearty further this motion, and be in it yourself, Nuncius laetitiarum.   

Part of a Letter to the Lord Treasurer, Earl of Portland (ut videtur.)  
THis is the reckoning of my unpleasant time, whereby your Lordship sees, that my silence hath been a symptom (as I may term it) of my infirmity, from all outward respects and duties, contracting my thoughts about myself. But can that serve my turn? No in troth (my good Lord) For I should while myself was in contemplation, have remembered, that I was bound to congratulate with your Lordship even for mine own sake, especially when I found by the long use of two or three Physicians, the exhaustion of my Purse, as great as other evacuations. It would breed wrinkles in my face, if I should stay any longer upon this point. I will cheer myself, that your Lordship did love me, even before I was so worthy of your compassion. I have tasted the benefit of your discourse, I have enjoyed your hospitality, I have been by your favour one of your familiar guests, I have had leave to interchange some good tales and stories in your company, and to exercise my natural freedom. Besides, we have been conjoined in a serious business, wherein, I do even yet hope for some good by your means: So as I have had in your Lordship the interests both of earnest, and of pleasant conversation, which gives me the boldness to assure myself, that I am still not only within your lordship's remembrance, but likewise within your loving care.  
But I dig in a Rock of Diamonds.   

To the KING, 1628.  
May it please Your most Sacred Majesty,  
IT is more to be bound to Your majesty's judgement, then to be bound to Your favour. Therefore, I do not only joy, but glory (though still with humble acknowledgement and feeling what myself am) that You have been pleased (as I understand from my Lord of Dorchester) to apply my Pen to so noble an end: being confident, that the very care, not to disgrace Your majesty's good pleasure, and indulgent choice of me, will invigorate my weakness. But before I enter into the description of others actions and fortunes (which require a free spirit) I must present at Your Royal feet, and even claim from Your natural equity and goodness, such compensation, (as it shall please You) in that which followeth.  
I served the King Your Father of most blessed memory, from the time he sent for me, at the beginning of his reign, out of France, (retaining then some gracious remembrance of my service with him in Scotland) twenty years, that is, almost now a third part of my life, in ordinary and extraordinary employments abroad. I had many comfortable Letters of his contentment, or at least, of his gracious toleration of my poor endeavours: And I had under his own Royal hand, two hopes in reversion. The first, a moiety of a six Clerks place in Chancery. The next, of the Office of the Rolls itself. The first of these, I was forced to yield to Sir William Beecher, upon the late Duke of Buckingham's former engagement unto him by promise, even after Your Majesty had been pleased to intercede for me, with Your said ever blessed Father. And that was as much in value, as my Provostship were worth at a Market. The other of the Reversion of the Rolls, I surrendered to the said Duke in the Gallery at Wallingford-House, upon his own very instant motion (the said Duke then intending it, upon the now Attorney, Sir Robert Heath) though with serious promise, upon his honour, that he would procure me some equivalent recompense, before any other should be settled in the place.  
The truth of my humble claim, and of his sincere intentions towards me, I present herewith unto Your Majesty, in a Letter all under his own hand.  
I could likewise remember unto Your Majesty, the losses I have sustained abroad, by taking up moneys, for my urgent use, at more than twenty in the hundred; by casualty of fire, to the damage of near four hundred pounds in my particular; by the raising of moneys in Germany, whereby my small allowance (when I was sent to the Emperor's Court) fell short five hundred pounds, as Seignor Burlamachi too well knoweth; and other ways.  
Now for all this (that I may not press Your Majesty with immoderate desires) I most humbly beg from Your Royal equity, and I may say, from Your very compassion, but two things: First, That Your Majesty will be pleased, in disposing of the Rolls (to which I was assigned) to reserve for me some small proportion, towards the discharge of such debts as I contracted in public service, yet remaining upon interest. Next, That You will be likewise pleased to promise me, the next good deanery, that shall be vacant by death or remove: whereof I also had a promise from Your blessed Father then at Newmarket, and am now more capable thereof in my present condition. And thus shall Your Majesty restore me, both to the freedom of my thoughts, and of my life; otherwise so intricated, that I know not how to unfold it. And so with my continual prayers to the Almighty, for his dearest and largest blessings upon Your Royal Person, I ever rest,  
Whitehall, Feb. 12. Still. vet. 1628. Your majesty's most faithful poor Subject and Servant, HENRY WOTTON.   

To my most worthy Friend Mr. John Dinely Esq at Boston in Lincolnshire.  
My dear Jack Dinely,  
YOu see I keep my familiarity, though you be the governor of Princes: And I see by your Letter, that I am every where in your remembrance, even where so many natural pledges divide you. The Parliament is, since your going, dissolved by the King, upon such reason, as in good faith, all sober minds must approve, even while they wish it otherwise. Never was there such a morning, as that which occasioned the dissolution, since Phacton did guide his father's Chariot.  
We are now cheered with some foreign news: but I am still sorry, that we must fetch our comfort from abroad, and from the discords of Italy, instead of the harmony of England. Our Lords sit often, and were never more close: insomuch as it is as hard to get any thing out of the Counsel-Chamber, as out of the Exchequer.  
Sir Henry Vane is suddenly sent Extraordinary Ambassador to the Hague; with the more wonder, because Sir Robert Carr is yet there, omni par negotio. The others having been Cofferer, breeds some conjecture that the business is pecuniary. Nothing is yet done about the Rolls, and those other places in sequence: And my Lord of Bristow's reentry into the Court (who the last week carried the Sword before the King) filleth us with new discourse, as if he should be restored to the vicechamberlainship, which yet lieth amortized in your Noble Friend.  
Mine own businesses stand as they did: And the best is, they are rather stationary then retrograde. I pray remember my hearty affection to your worthy Brother, and give him the best hope of his Anthony. And so languishing for you again, I commit you all to God's dear love.  
March 11. 1628. Your faithfullest poor Friend, HENRY WOTTON.   

To the same.  
My sweet and dear Jack Dinely,  
I Am come newly from those Ladies, who think themselves more lovely than before, and perhaps then they are, ever since I shown them your Character of their beauties, in your Letter from the Gally-Gravesend. Never was a Town better Epithited. They all remember themselves extreme kindly unto you. While I was there, I should have written Letters provisionally to go with Mr. Griffith: But my Brains are even yet in some distraction among good Ideas, whereby I am put now to write these, and other that go with them, in haste: For my said Friend hath given me warning that he shall be gone to morrow morning from London.  
I have written to our Royal Mistress, upon a touch in your last, (which found me at Bocton) that I had now sent her my Niece Stanhop's Picture in little, if an express Messenger sent for it, the very night before I come away, by my Lord of Chesterfield (to whom it was promised) had not ravished it out of my Pocket. But I shall have it in a greater form at my return thither immediately after our Election; which will begin to morrow seven-night: And the Friday morning following Sir George Kevet's Son is in the head of our List; For Lentum est, to say he shall be, after your late refreshment of the Queen's Commands. Sir Edmund Bacon was likewise with me at Bocton: when your Letter so overjoyed him, that he called in the very instant for some Paper to send for the spiritous Frank Bacon from Redgrave. And Seine viene volando, as fast as he can trick him up for the soldier. Of whom I will write more by himself. For to discharge the thanks that are due for him, is no sudden business. To return to Mr. Griffith; No man living ever took a kinder impression than he hath done of his obligations towards you: And it is indeed a piece of his Character, to take the least kindness to heart. He knows all news. You have him now in your hands. And God be between you both.  
Your poor Friend suisceratissimament, H. WOTTON.   

To my most worthy dear Friend Mr. John Dinely, Attendant on the young Prince at Leyden.  
From the college the 16. of August, 1629.  
My sweet Jack Dinely,  
WE have newly concluded our Anniversary business, which hath been the most distracted Election that I verily believe had ever before been seen, since this Nurse first gave Milk, through no less than four recommendatory, and one mandatory Letter from the King himself; besides intercessions and messengers from divers great Personages for Boys both in and out, enough to make us think ourselves shortly Electors of the Empire, if it hold on. Among which confusions, I did not forget (as I have written to our Royal Mistress) to put Sir G. Kevets' Son in the head of our List.  
After this, which I have truly told you, you cannot well expect many lines from me; for as the Seas require some time to settle, even when the winds are ceased, so need our brains after such an agitation: yet somewhat I must say by th●… Bearer. You have gotten a great interest in the whole Family, and in all that touch upon it, by the pains which you have taken, and yet they reserve themselves not to be more beholden to you for the introduction, than they hope to be for you●… direction of him there; though he comes, I can tell you, with severe advice from his Uncle, that if ever he be an inch from the eye of the Prince, (unless with the Queen) either in time of security or danger; Actum est; between them. We leave him now to your moulding, as if he were (as he is indeed) to be melt in a new furnace: there is spirit enough to work upon, though perchance overshadowed with some rural modesty; but that among Camps and Courts is now and then too soon divested. I shall be glad to hear how he appeareth di prima vista; as likewise of little Griffith, after whom I harken with no less affection.  
Dum verser in hac materia: I could wish you at some times to quicken your Anthony here with a line or two; which in Persius' phrase, Patrnum sapiant: Not truly that I perceive any slackness in him, but you know what our Italian Horsemen say, Un Caval del Reguo vuol anche gli sproni.  
We are divided by sundry reports from you, between hopes and fears, both great; your next will ease us: which will find me in Kent, whether I am turning my head again for a while, that I may be present at my Niece Stanhops good time.  
My Niece Hester is absolutely reclaimed from those foolish impressions which she had taken, Gods Name be ever blessed for it; and it is none of the least ends of my going to rivet that business I hope at the next Term to do some wonders for myself; so I call them, and so they must be if I do them: for among Courtiers I am a wonder, as Owls are among gay Birds. Now farewell for the present: let us still love one another, and our dear God love us both.  
Your truest poor Friend, H. W.  
I had made it a resolution to myself never to write to the Queen, without somewhat likewise to the King; but understanding that they are now separated, I have this time forborn to trouble him in so noble an action.   

To my most dear and worthy Friend Mr. John Dinely, Secretary to the Queen of Bohemia.  
My dear J. Dinely,  
FOr I am loath to lose the possession of our familiarity; you left me here your Letters and your Love in deposito, and I have since received other from you, somewhat of a sad complexion, touching the affairs of Germany as then they stood: But more newly we hear, that Barhard of Weinmar doth miracles upon the Danuby, the River sometimes of our merry passage.  
We wish in this House (where you have placed me with much contentment) that every molehill that he takes were a Province; and that the Duke of Bavaria were not only fled to Saltzburg (as is voiced) but even to the Capital of Rome, and all others with him, that adore the purple Beast.  
Here we live in daily (sed hoc lentum est) let me say, in hourly (quin & illud frigidum) nay in continual remembrance of our Royal Mistress, the very Triumph of Virtue. I have at the present written to her Majesty, as I shall do often, being now in the proper place of her addresses, and 〈◊〉 such opportunity to express our zeals, as hath-less a lazy Pen no imaginable excuse hereafter.  
Through your hand I now send her my late panegyric, which I blush to tell you how well it takes here with some indulgent and merciful Readers.  
The interpretation to her Majesty of as much therein as concerneth herself, I can commit to no spirit more sweetly, then to yours, who are so conversant with her virtues.  
With us here Things stand as you left them. Most indubitably an infinite affection in the King towards so precious an only Sister: But I know not well how our Times will sort with your Propositions. Yet I hope well, as Abraham did, when he wanted a Sacrifice, Deus providebit. And so for this time, in confused haste I rest,  
From you know where, Dec. 10. 1633. Your ever vowed poor Friend, HENRY WOTTON.  
I have written to the Queen touching james Vary, who commits himself to your affectionate memory: And we languish for a return from you.  
I pray remember my humble service to his majesty's most worthy Resident with you, to whom and to my Noble Secretary I will write by the next occasion.   

SIR,  
I Am glad of this opportunity to acquaint you, before your going, with the cause why Mr. Avery's Son did fail at our late Election.  
When the Boy came before us, being asked the ordinary Questions, Quod est tibi Nomen? Quot Annos natus ●…s? Quo Anni tempore? Quo Comitatu? Quo Oppido? Quave Villa? (To all which his Answers must remain upon Record in our Indentures of that year, if he be chosen) he stopped a little at the two last; and then (as if he had meant to suffer like a Martyr for the Truth) he told us flatly, That he was born in the Low-countrieses at Delft. This retrenched all farther Examination of him; for thereby he was ineligible, our Statutes only admitting the English Shires, with exclusion, not only of Ireland and Scotland, but even of Wal●…s; and much more of any foreign Province. Hereupon we called in his Father, who handsomely skirmished in his behalf, That Children born of English Parents in the Staples of Merchants abroad, were by an Act of Edw. the third, habilited to all purposes at home, as well as the inward Natives. And thereupon he went and took Counsel o●… Mr. Newbury, Steward of Windsor, and no obscure Lawyer, who did set down his Judgement in writing clearly for him, That all Local Statutes are void which are either against the Common Law, or against a general precedent Statute, as he said this was. Now although we could have been glad all to be left as free as your Arminians leave our Will; yet considering that our Local Statutes were long after the foresaid Act of Habilities, and that how invalid soever they may appear to some other man, yet that they bind us at least in Conscience, especially after so long custom. These points I say considered, the last good will we could express towards the Father, was to offer him (as I did) to propound the Case to my Lord of Canterbury, our Visitor Paramount, and now in Ordinary (the B. of Lincoln being in an unvisitable case himself) that so his Grace might relieve him withhis Interpretation: wherein I got the Provost of Kings to concur with me; and so I drew a Letter with all possible advantage on his side, enclosing therein the favourablest Branch of our Statutes. This Letter Mr. Avery carried to Croyden with paternal Affection and Hast, and brought us back an Answer to this substance; That though his Grace should be hearty willing in respect of the father's relation to her Majesty of Bohemia (as I had represented him) to do any thing for the Child: yet being a binding Precedent against custom he could not suddenly determine the Point, being at that time without Civil Lawyers, by whose advice his Court was guided: And therefore if we would defer our Election till Michaelmas, he would then orderly decide it. But we being by other Statutes bond not to prolong our Election an hour after such a time as was already near spent, and to tell you in Sinu, being loath to leave ourselves so long upon Interpretation, we gave it over. I understand since a circumstance that must needs trouble Mr. Avery more than the Business itself: That it failed by his fault, and not the boys. For after our Usher (the child's Tutor) had instructed him, That by no means he should confess his foreign Birth, his Father, whom the Boy had not acquainted with his tutor's Instruction, not knowing our Statutes, bade his Son answer, when he should be asked the last Question, That he was born in Comitatu Hollandiae; and so the Child trusting his Father more than his Tutor, fell through the Basket.  
With this Story I have entertained you at large, because, besides my zeal towards any thing that our Royal Mistress can wish to be done, I was engaged in a promise to yourself, whom I will follow with Letters to her Majesty by the conveyance of Sir Abra. Williams, and with a little Nuptial Present to yourself, which you had had with you, if a Friend of mine, who should have made it ready, had not been skared from London. And yet (to show you my poverty) it is only a pair of Sheets which I mean to send, with this Mark at the corners, PRO DINLEIANIS. In the mean while, God hold you and your Love in his Love, wherein after the uncertain Traverses of Courts below, dwelleth all Abundance and Infallibility above.  
By your ever the same affectionate poor Friend, HENRY WOTTON. Dictated from my Bed, August 18.   

To Mr. John Dinely, at Westminster.  
SIR,  
I Understand by your last kind lines that you were to be at Court as to morrow; so as I hope by our next Foot-Post to hear the Crisis of that day: and am sorry to hear in the mean time that your dreams were impropitious. We had here taken a voice and strong belief coming from a Recusant, (who know many things, and quickly) that the Infanta Queen of France was brought to bed of a Dolphin, and not of a Distaff. But your Letter saying nothing either of the one or of the other, I have suspended my faith.  
London is the Ocean of Novelties: Here we speak of nothing but a certain new Aguish disease, which invadeth many Families, but with little mortality.  
The Plague at Dover is by God's blessing ceased, and their Tents taken down. At Boughton the Small Pox fallen first upon a Chaplain, and after, upon one of the fair Faces, but a Deering; will keep me, I doubt, from that place: Not that I apprehend any Contagions whatsoever (as I think you know) but the Winter coming on, and the Place bleat, a small excuse will serve my turn. God send you all comfort in your first and second self: To whose goodness I leave you, resting,  
Your most affectionate Alla Suiscerata, HENRY WOTTON. From the palace by Canterbury, August last, 1638.   

SIR,  
NExt your own and your dear Consorts health, I languish to hear of your first reception at Court. For though I suppose it was short, yet we Philosophers say, that Principia plus valent virtute quam mole. Next that, I pray let me know your opinion of the prodigious escape of the Queen Mother of France, out of the Spanish clutches to the Hague: And whether she be trajectura, as our right worthy Friend Dr. Dorislaus writeth me. I am come hither in a very benign Constellation, and silent conspiracy of my chiefest Friends that have met here at the same time; Sir Edmund Bacon, Sir Francis Barnham, and Sir Thomas Culpepper: All, men of singular conversation; and some of them, though of the same County, yet that had not been here in seven years before. Of which, my Nephew Sir Edmund and myself are to pass this next week under the Roof of my L. Chief Justice Finch, at his House of Mote close by, through his Noble and unresistable Importunity. God keep us in his Love, wherein is all joy and abundance.  
Your ever most affectionate, HENRY WOTTON. From the Palace by Canterbury, this St. Bartholomew's day, 1638.   

SIR,  
I Send you enclosed the preparation of Guajacum, as I have found incomparable benefit thereby. I expect in exchange the Letter touching the Duchess de Cheureuse. I am in great perplexity by hearing no News of Nicholas Oudard since the first of September Stylo novo from Brussels: being that afternoon to go to Mechelen with a Letter of Authority for his present dispatch; so as he written, he would either send me word, if any impediment should intervene; or bring the first News himself. Besides, Monsieur Gerbier thought his business in so fair a way, as he left a Maid there to come over in the company of himself, and his Mother. When I lay these things together, I can make no good interpretation of it: Yet I will not anticipate and prejudge mine own mishaps, as I should account the loss of him, whom I have trained from a Child. God grant all be well. If you could meet with Monsieur Gerbier and inquire whether he hath heard any thing, it would much ease my heart one way or other. And so leaving you in the Lord's protection, I rest,  
Your true Friend in omni fortuna, HENRY WOTTON. From the college, Septemb. 26. 1638.   

SIR,  
I Was glad for all the private in a late Letter from you, and sorry for the public, both foreign, and inward: But I like Plato's counsel well; In adversities to compress murmur: For our Providence (saith he) is too short to judge, whether there may not lie under the outside of an apparent evil some in-imaginable good. The last Philosophy is, Voluntas tua fiat Domine. Upon hearing, some good while since, of the misadventures in the Palatine House; his loss of Meppen, before he had it; the defeat of his Troops, as soon as he had gathered them; the taking of his Brother, etc. I fell upon a conceit, that perchance these unpleasant things might call over Sir R. Cave; the Prince being destitute of counsel, and of proper Instruments of Action, (for they say, Ferentz is likewise prisoner) And so there would be room here for your employment: which I would wish you to press extremely. But of this more in my next. I now send you an Hogshead of more than Soror Tonantis; and very willingly, though so long after March you take us Sul basso. But one thing I must tell you, that for your Wives Splenetique Infirmity, there is nothing worse in the world then either strong or stolen Beer. Now, that we have you out of the straits and in the Ocean (as you call it) both of novelties as well as of other things, Matthew Say shall have order to call upon you at least once a week. And for the present I leave you in his Love that never faileth: remaining,  
Your very truly affectionate, HENRY WOTTON. From the college this Thursday morning, 1638.   

SIR,  
BEtween you and me complimental Letters are as needless and improper, as I hope, the provisions of Armour in the Tower will be. As for Novelties of State, you are in the centre, and we rural Wights in the Circumference, and Skirts, entertained with nothing but some cold icesickles and droppings from you Londoners: Imagine us therefore to stand gaping for the return of the Lord Marques. In the mean while I should be glad to know in what quality my Nephew Colonel Morton is employed towards the North; for I hear of one sergeant Major Thelwel in more noise. And so intending (as soon as it can be ready) to entertain you with a strange Collar of Brawn, I rest,  
Ever your own, HENRY WOTTON. This Epiphany, 1638.   

SIR,  
MY Pen hath not conversed with you for certe Gite of our Boat a pretty while; not wanting affection, but matter. You are in the centre of Novelties. God send all well, as I have no doubt it will be at last. I am within some few weeks tending to my Genial soil at Boughton Malherb; and thence about by Redgrave I shall make a Circle hither again, taking perchance both Universities in my Line homewards. You married men are deprived of these evagations. While we stand in a little suspense touching the event of inward Affairs; I am glad to hear from abroad in the High Dutch Gazette, that there is a Treaty of Exchange in hand between Prince Rupert, and Prince Casimir of Poland, whom the Swedes have in custody. Methinks, it is a pretty balanced intention, and of no improbable issue; the King of Hungaria (alias Emperor) growing every day lower, and lower. I desire much to know how your virtuous Consort standeth in her health, and how yourself proceedeth in your hopes; resting,  
Semper, Semper Tuus, HENRY WOTTON. From the college, Feb. 21. 1638.   

Charissime,  
I Am sorry to hear of new Oaths in Scotland between the Covenanters, who they say will have none but jesus Christ to reign over them: A Sacred Cover of the deepest Impiety. God open their eyes, and soften their hearts. I have read a good part of the Declaration, wherein the Dean of Durh●…ns Pen doth well appear: and the whole business is very black. Never was there such a stamping and blending of Rebellion and Religion together. I thank you for your news touching Prince Rupert; but I fear the Hungarian King will hold him too fast. To your Question about mine own Remove, it will be towards the ending of this week for a night or two to London; so as I hope to save you the labour of journeying hither. My Lodging, if it be not prepossessed, will be at Mr. alkinds' House in the Strand, or otherwise peradventure with your Friend in Lombardstreet, whereof you shall have notice in time.  
I am yours every where, H. WOTTON. From the college April 21. 1639.   

SIR,  
I should be sorry for your departure towards our Royal Mistress, before some short meeting at least between us: for I have much discourse to unlade in your honest breast; and I can tell you, we had need lay up discourse safely; which I hope you will take for some excuse of my seldom writing unto you: for I suspect a certain natural fr●…edom in mine own Pen.  
In the Scottish Affairs, it is one mystery, that we know not what to believe. Only this we can say, That there is nothing to be praised in it on their part; and I could wish, there were as little to be feared on ours. Deus operatur omnia suaviter: And to his Power and Mercy we must leave ourselves.  
Your ever faithful poor Friend, H. WOTTON. From the college April 17. 1639.  
Sir, My coachman is yet crazy, from a late great sickness; but if it please you to specify the time of your conveniency, my Geldin shall wait upon you at Branford; A point nommé.   

SIR,  
I long now to hear of nothing more than a little Deynleiolus; and if it prove of another Gender in grammar, then let Philosophy comfort you, that says, It is nature's method to begin ab Imperfectiori: But by my contemplation of your own, and your wife's complexion, and of her late sickn●…ss, I should imagine that Fortior pars trahet sexum.  
We are sorry to hear that the Scottish Gentlemen, who have been lately sent to that King, found (as they say) but a brusk welcome; which makes all fear, that there may be a rebullition in that business.  
We have a new strange voice flying here, that the Prince Palatine is towards a Marriage.  
I apprehend much the event of your new Ambassage from the States, being carried by a man who hath had his whole fortune out of France; but the wisdom of the Instrument may mollify all. I should be glad to know, whether his Son-in-law Constantinus Hugeinus be in his company. Lastly, I should be glad to hear that you are un tantino promoved in your own ends; for when the first way is plained, all will go smoothly. Let us howsoever love one another, and God love us both.  
Your poor Friend, H. WOTTON.    

A TABLE OF THE Several Tracts contained in this Book.  

1. THe Elements of Architecture.  
2. A Survey of Education.  
3. Aphorisms of Education.  
4. Characters of some Kings of England.  
5. Vita Henrici Sexti.  
6. Ad Regem è Scotia reducem H. W. Plausus & Vota.  
7. A panegyric to King Charles.  
8. The Parallel.  
9 The Disparity.  
10. The Life of the Duke of Buckingham.  
11. The Great Action between Pompey and Caesar.  
12. A Character of Ferdinand, Grand Duke of Tuscany.  
13. The Election of the New Duke of Venice; with other Papers concerning that State.  
14. A Meditation on Gen. 22.  
15. A Meditation on Christmas. day.  
16. Letters to several Persons.  
17. Poems.  
18. Letters to Sir Edmund Bacon.  
19 Additional Letters to several Persons: Never before Printed.   
FINIS.