THE LIFE OF Sir HENRY WOTTON.

SIR Henry Wotton (whose Life I novv intend to vvrite) vvas born in the Year of our Re­demption 1568. in Bocton-hall, (commonly called Bocton, or Bougton - place, or Palace) in the Parish of Bocton Mal­herb, in the fruitful Country of Kent: Bocton-hall being an ancient and goodly Structure, beautifying, and being beautified by the Parish Church of Bocton Malherb adjoyning unto it; and both seated vvithin a fair Park of the Wottons, on the Brovv 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 novv 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; vvhose Heroick Acts, and Noble Employments, both in [Page] 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 Publick 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 Pedegree, 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, vvas born about the Year of Christ 1460: he living in the Reign of King Edward the Fourth, vvas by him trusted to be Lieutenant of Guisnes, to be Knight Porter, and Comptroller 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 Councel 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.

[Page] 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 Knight-hood, (she vvas then vvith 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 Comptroller of Her Majesties Houshold. He was (saith Cambden) a man remarkable for many and great Employments in the State, during Her [Page] Reign, and sent several times Ambassador into Fo­reign Nations. After Her death, he was by King James made Comptroller of his Houshold, and called to be of His Privy Councel, 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 numbred among the Martial Men of his Age, who was in the 38 of Queen Elizabeths 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 look'd upon with more then ordinary favour, and with inten­tions of preferment; but Death in his younger years put a period to his growing hopes.

Of Sir Henry, my following discourse shall give an account.

The descent of these fore-named Wottons 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 [Page] Dean both of York and Canterbury: a man vvhom God did not only bless vvith a long life, but vvith great abilities of mind, and an inclinati­on to imploy them in the service of his Countrey, as is testified by his severall Imployments; Cambden in his Bri­tannia. having been sent nine times Ambassador unto forraign Princes; and by his being a Privy-Councellor to King Henry the eighth, to Edward the sixth, to Queen Mary and Queen Eli­zabeth; vvho also, after he had been during the Wars between England, Scotland and France, three several times (and not unsuccessfully) imployed in Committies for setling of peace betwixt this and those Kingdomes, died (saith learned Cambden) full of Commendations for Wisdome and Piety.—He vvas also by the Will of King Henry the eighth, made one of his Executors, and chief Secretary of State to his Son, that plous 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, vvas 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 vvorthy of their Ancestors.

And, that Sir Henry Wotton did so, might appear more perfectly then my Pen can express it, if of his many surviving friends, some one of higher parts and imploy­ment, [Page] 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. Charls 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 perswade 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 vvas twice married, first to Elizabeth, the Daughter of Sir John Rudstone Knight; after vvhose death, though his inclination vvas averse to all Contentions; yet, necessitated he vvas to several Suits in Law: in the prosecution vvhereof, (vvhich took up much of his time, and vvere the occasion of many Discontents) he vvas by divers of his friends ear­nestly perswaded to a re-marriage; to vvhom 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 Law-suits.
• that vvere of his Kindred.

And yet, following his own Law-suits, he met in Westminster-hall vvith Mrs. Elionora Morton, Widow to Robert Morton of Kent Esq vvho vvas [Page] 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 drest in sadness, are observ'd to have in them a Charming Eloquence; and, to be­come very often too strong to be resisted) vvhich I mention, because it prov'd so vvith this Thomas Wotton, for although there vvere in her a concur­rence of all those accidents, against vvhich he had so seriously resolved; yet, his affection to her grew then so strong, that he resolved to solicite her for a Wife; and did, and obtained her.

By her (vvho vvas 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 vvhose care and pains, he paid her each day vvith such visible signs of future perfection in Learning, as turned her imployment into a pleas­ing-trouble: vvhich she vvas 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, vvhen time and diligent instruction, had made him fit for a removal to an higher Form, (vvhich vvas very early) he vvas 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, vvhich his vvise Father knew to be the most necessary vvay, to make the fu­ture part of his life, both happy to himself, and usefull for the discharge of all business, vvhether publick or private.

[Page] 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 Colledge, perswasively injoyn­ed 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 imployment, given an early, and a solid testimony of his future abilities. And, though there may be some sowr 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 imployment 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 Latine 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 Bodies guide, but, whereas all other of his senses require time to inform the [Page] 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 Op­tique 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 beautifie his Dis­course with a Commendation of the blessing and benefit of Seeing: By which, we do not only discover Natures 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 Fabrick of the Heavens, and both the Order and Motion of the Cele­stial Orbs; nay, that if the eye look but downward, it may rejoyce to behold the bosome 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 moralize his own conditi­on, who in a short time (like those very Flowers) de­cayes, withers, and quickly returns again to that Earth, from which both had their first being.

These were so exactly debated, and so Rhetori­cally heightned, as, among other admirers, caused that learned Italian, Albericus Gentilis (then 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 [Page] this, or some like reverential expression; as, That good man my Father; or, My Father the best of men:) about that time, this good man changed this for a better life; leaving to Sir Henry, as to his other younger Sons, a Rent charge of an hun­dred Mark a year, to be paid for ever, out of some one of his Mannors 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 my self 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, dream'd, 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 ruine 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 our selves 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 Prophesies 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 intend totally to lose it; and dreaming the same again the Night following, when it became a [Page] double Dream, like that of Pharaoh (of which double dreams, the learned have made many obser­vations) and considering that it had no depen­dance on his vvaking thoughts, much less on the desires of his heart, then, he did more seriously consider it; and, remembred that Almighty God vvas 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 vvisdome could not foresee: Upon these conside­rations, he resolved to use so prudent a remedy by vvay of prevention, as might introduce no great inconvenience either to himself or to his Nephew. And to that end, he vvrote 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 vvhat followed.

At this time a Marriage vvas concluded betwixt our Queen Mary, and Philip King of Spain: And though this vvas concluded vvith the advice, if not [Page] by the perswasion of her Privy Council, as having many probabilities of advantage to this Nation: yet, divers persons of a contrary perswasion, did not only declare against it, but also raised Forces to oppose it; believing (as they said) it would be a means to bring England to be under a subjection to Spain, and make those of this Nation slaves to Strangers.

And of this number Sir Thomas Wyat of Boxley-Abbey in Kent▪ (betwixt whose Family, and the Family of the Wottons, there had been an ancient and entire friendship) was the principal Actor; who having perswaded 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 confin'd: for, though he could not be ignorant that another mans 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 then an intimation of Wyat's intentions; and, thought he had not continued actually innocent, if his Uncle had not so happily dream'd 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 joyned in praising God for it; That God, who tyes himself to no Rules, either in pre­venting of evil, or in shewing of mercy to those, whom of good pleasure he hath chosen to love.

[Page] And this Dream was the more considerable, be­cause that God who in the dayes 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, dream'd that the University Treasury was robbed by Towns­men, and poor Scholars; and, that the number was five: And being that day to write to his Son Henry at Oxford, he thought it worth so much pains, as by a Postscript in his Letter, to make a slight enquiry of it; the Letter (which was writ out of Kent, and dated three dayes 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 perplext Enquest of the Thieves, then did Sir Henry Wotton shew his Fathers 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 dayes 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 dyed.) and foreseeing his death there, gave direction in what manner his Body should be carried to Bocton; and, [Page] 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 then time that I re­turn to Sir Henry Wotton at Oxford; vvhere, after his optick Lecture, he vvas taken into such a bosome friendship vvith the Learned Albericus Gentilis (vvhom I formerly named) that if it had been possible, Gentilis vvould have breathed all his excellent knowledge, both of the Mathematicks and Law, into the breast of his dear Harry (for so Gen­tilis used to call him:) and though he vvas not able to do that, yet there vvas in Sir Henry such a pro­pensity and connaturalness to the Italian Language, and those Studies vvhereof Gentilis vvas a great Master, that this friendship between them did dayly increase, and proved dayly advantagious to Sir Henry, for the improvement of him in several Sci­ences, during his stay in the University.

From vvhich place, before I shall invite the Reader to follovv him into a foreign Nation, though I must omit to mention divers Persons that vvere 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 vvas there be­gun betwixt him and Dr. Donne (sometimes Dean of St. Pauls) a man of vvhose abilities I shall for­bear to say any thing, because he vvho is of this Nation, and pretends to Learning or Ingenuity, and is ignorant of Dr. Donne, deserves not to knovv [Page] him. The friendship of these two I must not omit to mention, being such a friendship as vvas gene­rously elemented: And as it vvas 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 Fathers death; at vvhich time, he vvas 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 vvith 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 vvhich, both for the secrets of Nature, the dis­positions of many Nations, their several Laws and Languages, he vvas 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, vvhich vvas almost nine years be­fore his return into England, he stayed but one year in France, and most of that in Geneva; vvhere he became acquainted vvith Theodor Beza (then very aged) and vvith Isaac Causabon, in vvhose house (if I be rightly informed) Sir Henry Wotton vvas lodged, and there contracted a most worthy friend­ship vvith that man of rare Learning and Inge­nuity.

Three of the remaining eight years vvere spent in Germany, the other five in Italy, (the Stage on vvhich God appointed he should act a great part of his life) where both in Rome, Venice and Florence, he [Page] became acquainted vvith the most eminent men for Learning, and all manner of Arts; as Picture, Scul­pture, Chymistry, Architecture, and other manual Arts, even Arts of inferiour 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 vvas of a choice shape, tall of stature, and of a most perswasive behaviour; vvhich vvas so mixed vvith sweet Discourse, and Civilities, as gained him much love from all Persons vvith whom he entred into an acquaintance.

And vvhereas he vvas noted in his Youth to have a sharp Wit, and apt to jest; that, by Time, Travel, and Conversation, vvas so polish'd, and made so useful, that his company seemed to be one of the delights of mankind; insomuch as Robert Earl of Essex (then one of the Darlings of Fortune, and in greatest favour vvith 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 Colledge 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 [Page] to anger, and worse at his return into England; upon whose immovable favour the Earl had built such sandy hopes, as incouraged him to those under­takings, 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 in­couraged the Earl to those undertakings vvhich 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 States-men 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 Arraign'd, Condemned, and Beheaded; and that his Friend Mr. Cuffe was hang'd, 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, [Page] 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 Dukes 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 Colledge 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 befel him; an accident that did not only find new employ­ment for his choice Abilities, but introduce him a knowledg and an interest with our King Iames, then 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 Iames 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 perswasion in point of Religion (even Rome it self, 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, [Page] 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 Iesuit) you may believe, that about that time there were ma­ny indeavours, first to excommunicate, and then to shorten the life of King Iames.

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 Iames the then King of Scots. The Duke abhorring the Fact, and resolving to indeavor 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 poyson, 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 [Page] Country towards Scotland, where he found the King at Sterling; being there, he used means by Be [...]ard Lindsey, one of the Kings 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 enjoyn 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, (mixt with jealousie) 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 entred 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 secresie 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 [Page] that Countrey could afford; from which he de­parted as true an Italian as he came thither.

To the Duke at Florence he return'd vvith a fair and gratefull account of his imployment, and vvithin some few Moneths after his return, there came certain News to Florence, that Queen Eliza­beth vvas dead; and, Iames King of the Scots pro­claimed King of England. The Duke knowing tra­vel and business to be the best Schools of vvisdom, and that Sir Henry Wotton had been tutor'd in both, advis'd him to return presently to England, and there joy the King vvith his new and better Title, and vvait there upon Fortune for a better imploy­ment.

When King Iames came into England, he found, amongst other of the late Queens Officers, Sir Ed­ward, vvho vvas after Lord Wotton, Comptroller of the House, of vvhom he demanded, If he knew one Henry Wotton, that had spent much time in for­reign Travel? The Lord replied, he knew him vvell, and that he vvas his Brother; then the King asking vvhere he then vvas, vvas answered, at Venice, or Florence; but by late Letters from thence, he understood, he vvould 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 vvonder, asked the King, If he knew him? to vvhich the King answer­ed, You must rest unsatisfied of that, till you bring the Gentleman to me.

Not many Moneths after this Discourse, the Lord Wotton brought his Brother to attend the King, vvho 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 [Page] 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 Raign; but be­fore he dismist Octavio Baldi from his present atten­dance upon him, he restored him to his old Name of Henry Wotton, by vvhich he then Knighted him.

Not long after this, the King having resolved, according to his Motto (Beati pacifici) to have a friendship vvith his Neighbour-Kingdoms of France and Spain, and also for divers vveighty reasons, to enter into an Alliance vvith the State of Venice, and to that end to send Ambassadors to those several places, did propose the choice of these Imploy­ments to Sir Henry Wotton; vvho considering the smallness of his own Estate (vvhich 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 vvith his Genius, who did ever love to joyn with Busi­ness, Study, and a tryal of natural Experiments; for both which fruitfull Italy, that Darling of Na­ture, and Cherisher of all Arts, is so justly fam'd 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 setled 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; [Page] 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 (then 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 testifie he wanted not his friends best wishes to attend him.

SIR Henry Wotton was received by the State o [...] Venice, with much honour and gladness, bot [...] [Page] for that he delivered his Ambassage most elegantly in the Italian Language, and came also in such a Juncture of time, as his Masters friendship seem'd usefull for that Republick: the time of his coming thither was about the year 1604. Leonardo Donato being then Duke; a wise and resolv'd 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 privi­ledges of Church-men, 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 Republick of Venice made several Injunctions against Lay-persons gi­ving Lands or Goods to the Church, without Li­cence from the Civil Magistrate; and in that in­hibition, they exprest their reasons to be, For that when any Goods or Land once came into the hands of the Ecclesiasticks, 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 publick 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 Clergy-men, 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 tyed to Ecclesiasti­cal Orders, and Italy is observed to breed the most [Page] vertuous, 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 Republick: 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 Politique disturbances, and de­layes, and endeavours to preserve the Popes pre­sent power) in order to a general reformation of those many Errors, which were in time crept into the Church, declar'd 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 de­clar'd to be very profitable; yet, it was also declar'd, 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 contemn'd then fear'd. 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, patient 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 dayes for their revocation; threat­ning, [Page] if he were not obeyed, to proceed to Ex­communication of the Republick; who still offered to shew 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 threatning Excommunication, and the Veneti­ans still answering him with fair speeches, and no complyance, till at last, the Popes zeal to the Apo­stolick 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, publish'd there, as well against the Law of God, as against the Honour of this Nation, shall presently render it to the Councel of Ten, upon pain of death.

Then was Duado their Ambassador call'd home from Rome, and the Inquisition presently suspended by Order of the State; and, the Flood-gates 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.

[Page] Matters thus heightned, the State advised vvith Father▪ Paul, a Holy and Learned Frier (the Au­thor of the History of the Council of Trent) vvhose advice vvas, Neither to provoke the Pope, nor lose their own Right: he declaring publickly 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 observ'd, the En­glish Ambassadour 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 Republick of Venice was known to give Commission to Gre­gory Justiniano, then their Ambassadour in England, to make all these Proceedings 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 joyn 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 (vvhich lasted almost two years) the Pope grew still higher, and the Venetians [Page] more and more resolv'd and careless: still acquaint­ing King James with their proceedings, 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 weakned his Power by exceeding it, and offered the Venetians Absolution upon very easie terms; which the Venetians still slighting, did at last obtain, by that which was scarce so much as a shew of ac­knowledging it: For, they made an order, that in that day in which they were Absolv'd, there should be no Publick Rejoycing, 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 then Bishop of Canterbury, into England, and there first made publick, 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 Kings opinion, but at last became much clouded by an accident, which I shall proceed to relate.

At his first going Ambassadour 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 [Page] and Ingeniousness, (those that are esteemed the Virtuosi 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 German 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 Ambassadour, 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 Embassadour is an honest man, sent to lie abroad for the good of his Country.’

But the word for lye (being the hinge upon which the Conceit was to turn) was not so exprest in Latine, 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 Iasper Scioppius, a Romanist, a man of a restless spirit, and a malicious Pen: who with Books against King Iames, Prints this as a Principle of that Religion professed by the King, and his Ambassadour 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 Wottons.

[Page] This coming to the knowledge of King Iames, he apprehended it to be such an oversight, such a vveakness, or vvorse, in Sir Henry Wotton, as caused the King to express much vvrath 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, vvhich 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 Iames: vvhich vvere both so ingenious, so clear, and so choicely Elo­quent, that his Majesty (vvho vvas a pure Judge of it) could not forbear, at the receit thereof, to declare publickly, That Sir Henry Wotton had commuted sufficiently for a greater offence.

And now, as broken bones vvell set become stronger; so Sir Henry Wotton did not only recover, but vvas much more confirmed in his Majesties 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 Wottons, vvere 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 grovv both more vvise, and (which is the best fruit error can bring forth) for the fu­ture to become more industriously vvatchful over his Tongue and Pen.

I have told you a part of his Employment in Italy, vvhere notwithstanding the death of his Fa­vorer, [Page] the Duke Leonardo Donato, vvho had an un­dissembled affection for him, and the malicious Accusation of Scioppius; yet his interest (as though it had been an intail'd love) was still found to live and increase in all the succeeding Dukes, during his Employment to that State, vvhich vvas almost twenty years; all vvhich time he studied the dis­positions of those Dukes, and the other Consulters of State; vvell knowing, that he vvho 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 sweetned by various and plea­sant Discourse; vvith vvhich, and his choice ap­plication of Stories, and his elegant Delivery of all these, even in their Italian Language, he first got, and still preserv'd such interest in the State of Venice, that it vvas observ'd (such vvas either his (merit, or his modesty) they never denied him any request.

But, all this shews but his abilities, and his fit­ness for that Employment: 'Twill therefore be needful to tell the Reader, vvhat use he made of the Interest vvhich these procured him; and that in­deed vvas, rather to oblige others then to enrich himself; he still endeavoring that the Reputation of the English might be maintained, both in the Ger­man Empire, and in Italy; vvhere many Gentlemen vvhom Travel had invited into that Nation, re­ceived from him chearful Entertainments, advice for their behaviour, and by his interest shelter, or deliverance from those accidental storms of adver­sity vvhich usually attend upon Travel.

And because these things may appear to the [Page] Reader to be but Generals, I shall acquaint him vvith two particular Examples; one of his Merci­full Disposition, and one of the Nobleness of his Mind; vvhich shall follow.

There had been many English Souldiers 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 Gallies and Pri­sons, Sir Henry Wotton became a Petitioner to that State for their Lives and Enlargement; and his Request vvas granted: so that those (vvhich vvere many hundreds, and there made the sad Examples of Humane Misery, by hard Imprisonment, and unpitied Poverty in a strange Nation) vvere 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, vvho vvas (during his stay in those parts) as a City of Refuge for the Distressed of this and other Nations.

And for that vvhich I offer as a Testimony of the Nobleness of his Mind; I shall make vvay to the Readers clearer understanding of it, by telling him, that beside several other Foreign Employ­ments, Sir Henry Wotton vvas sent thrice Ambassa­dour to the Republick of Venice; and at his last going thither, he vvas employed Ambassadour to several of the German Princes, and more particu­larly to the Emperor Ferdinando the second; and that his Employment to him, and those Princes, vvas to incline them to equitable Conditions, for the Restauration of the Queen of Bohemia, and her Descendents, to their Patrimonial Inheritance of the Palatinate.

[Page] This vvas by his eight Months constant endea­vors and attendance upon the Emperor, his Court and Councel, brought to a probability of a suc­cessful Conclusion vvithout blood-shed: but there vvas at that time two opposite Armies in the Field; and as they vvere Treating, there vvas a Battle fought; in the managery vvhereof, there vvas so many miserable Errors on the one side, (so Sir Henry Wotton expresses it in a Dispatch to the King) and so advantagious Events to the Emperour, 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, vvas 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 vvith some Pas­sion, (his dear Mistress the Queen of Bohemia being concerned in it) vvas yet taken in good part by the Emperor; vvho 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; vvhich vvas a Jewel of Diamonds of more value then a Thousand Pounds.

This Jewel vvas received vvith 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 [Page] of Sabrina (an Italian Lady, in whose House the Emperor had appointed him to be lodg'd, 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 thankefulness, 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 Priviledges and Courtesies with the German Princes, and the Republick of Venice, for the English Merchants; and vvhat he did by direction of King James vvith 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 vvant a vievv of some Papers that might inform me, (his late Majesties 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 return'd from his last Embassy into England.

Henricus Wottonius Anglo-Cantianus, Thomae [Page] 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 forreign 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 out-lived charitable Sir Julius Caesar, who then possessed it: and then, grown so old, that he was said to be kept alive be­yond Natures 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 imployments 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 satisfie, but by the Kings payment of his Arrears due for his forreign Imployments: He had brought into England many servants, of which some were German and Italian Artists; this was [Page] 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 alwayes so careless of money, as though our Saviours 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 Colledge of Eaton became void by the death of Mr. Thomas Murray, for which there were (as the place deserv'd) many earnest and powerfull Suit­ers to the King. And Sir Henry who had for many years (like Siciphas) rolled the restless stone of a State-imployment; knowing experimentally, that the great blessing of sweet content was not to be found in multitudes of men or business: and, that a Colledge 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.

[Page] 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 Comptroller of the Kings Houshold, was made a great Officer in His Majesties House. This, and other favours being conferred upon Mr. Pey (in whom there was a radieal honesty) were alwayes thankfully acknow­ledged by him, and his gratitude exprest 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 Colledge) and the want of such a summe, wrinckled his face with care; ('twas his own expression) and, that money be­ing procured, he should the next day after find him in his Colledge, 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 Colledge; the place where indeed his happiness then seemed to have its beginning: the Colledge being to his mind, as a quiet Harbor to a Sea-faring man after a tempestuous voyage; where, by the bounty of the pious Founder, his very Food and Rayment 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 busie multitude tur­moyl'd and tossed in a tempestuous Sea of trouble and dangers! And (as Sir William Davenant has happily exprest the like of another person)

Being thus setled according to the desires of his heart, his first study was the Statutes of the Colledge: by which, he conceiv'd 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, seem'd 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 busie men sel­dome 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 goings of the morning to praise him; even from my God, whom I daily mag­nifie 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 imployment of his time in the Colledge. After his customary pub­lick [Page] 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 imployment in the Forenoon: But, when he was once sate to Dinner, then nothing but chearfull thoughts possess'd 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 dayes 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 moneths, then forty Decembers.

He was a great lover of his Neighbours, and a bountifull 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 rowes 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; perswading them not to neglect Rhetorick, 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 [Page] 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 hopefull Youths, which he picked out of the School, and took into his own Domestick care, and to attend him at his Meals; out of whose Discourse and Behaviour, he gathered observations for the better compleating 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 testifie that, and to shew 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 Musick at Church; the Priest seeing Sir Henry stand obscurely in a corner, sends to him by a Boy of the Quire this Question, writ in a small piece of Paper, Where was your Reli­gion to be found before Luther? To which Question Sir Henry presently under-writ, 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 damn'd, that were Excommunica­ted, because the Pope, and the Duke of Venice, could not agree about their temporal power? Speak your Con­science. To which he under-writ in French, Mon­sieur, excusay moy.

[Page] To one that asked him, Whether a Papist may [...] saved? he replyed, You may be saved without knowing that. Look to your self.

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 spake indiscreet, and bitter words against Arminius, I heard him reply to this purpose:

In my travel towards Venice, as I past through Ger­many, I rested almost a year at Leyden, where I en­tred into an acquaintance with Arminius (then the Pro­fessor of Divinity in that University) a man much talk'd of in this Age, which is made up of opposition and Controversie: Andindeed, if I mistake not Arminius in his expressions (as so weak a brain as mine is may ea­sily do) then 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 [Page] 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 Controversie, yet, for the most part, they have rather satisfied them­selves, then 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 Controversie, and do therefore justly fall under the reproof of St. Jude, for being Busie­bodies, and for medling with things they understand not.

And here it offers it self (I think not unfitly) to tell the Reader, that a friend of Sir Henry Wot­tons, being designed for the imployment of an Am­bassador, came to Eaton, 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 Countrey, he should alwayes, and upon all occasions speak the truth (it seems a State-Paradox) for, sayes Sir Henry Wot­ton, you shall never be believed; and by this means, your truth will secure your self, 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 undertakings.

Many more of this nature might be observed, but they must be laid aside; for I shall here make a [Page] 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 possest 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 guess 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, then 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 it self [...] Scr [...]le of Parchment: This is the last Philosophy that we must study upon Earth; let us therefore that yet re­main here, as our dayes and friends waste, reinforce our love to each other; which of all vertues, both spiritual and mo­ral, hath the highest priviledge, because death it self can­not end it. And my good Nick, &c.

This is a part of his sorrow thus exprest to his Nick P [...]y, the other part is in this following Elogy, of which the Reader may safely conclude, 'twas to [...] hearty to be dissembled.

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 Iames 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 Ioseph Hall, (late Bishop of Norwich) whose many and useful Works speak his great Merit: with the Ambassador of Spain went Ia. Wadsworth; and with Sir Henry Wotton went William Bod [...]l.

These three Chaplains to these three Ambassa­dours, were all bred in one Uni­versity, all of one Emanuel Col­ledge in Cam­bridge. Colledge, all Benefic'd in one Diocess, and all most dear and intire Friends: But in Spain Mr. Wadsworth met vvith temptations, or reasons, such as were so powerful, as to perswade him (who of the three, was formerly observ'd to be the most averse to that Religion that calls it self Catholick) 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 Decads) to perswade his [Page] return, or to shew the reason of his Apostasie: 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 past 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 controversie, 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 Wot­tons, writ to our late King Charles the first.

TO this Letter, I shall add this; That he was (to the great joy of Sir Henry Wotton) made Governor of the said Colledge; 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 dayes of his Mother, the Church of England; [Page] to which I may add, that his Patience and Charity were both such, as shewed 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 perswasion (of which there were very many in his Diocess) 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 perswasion; and there, and then he dyed, 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 publick use.

More might be said of Mr. Bedel, who (I told the Reader) was Sir Henry Wottons 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 forreign imployments: But, the Reader may think that in this digression, I have [Page] already carried him too far from Eaton Colledge, 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 propos'd to himself; before he entred 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 Wottons [...] did by a perswasive 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 Colledge, in which he then enjoy'd all the worldly happiness of his present being; but Sir Henry dyed 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 Col­ledge, where he seemed to have his Youth renewed [Page] 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 chearfull heart vvas still maintained; he being alwayes free, even to the last of his day, from that peevishness which usually attends Age.

And yet his mirth was sometimes damp'd by the remembrance of divers old Debts, p [...]ly contra­cted in his forreign Imployments, for which his ju [...] Arrears due from the King, would have made sa­tisfaction; but, being still delayed with Co [...]t-promises, and finding some decayes 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 vvas a Christian endeavour that his Debts might be satisfied.

And that it may remain as such a Testimony, and a Legacy to those that lov'd him, I shall here im­part it to the Reader, as it vvas found vvrit vvith his own hand.

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 VVill, did gladly receive their Legacies; by which, and his most just and passionate desires for the payment of his debts, they joyned in assisting the Overseers of his VVill; and by their joynt en­deavours to the King (then 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 oftner, to the beloved Bocton-hall, where he would say, he found a cure for all cares, by the chear­full 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 Eaton Colledge, said [...] a friend, his Companion in that Journey; H [...] usefull 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 [Page] true; that, at my now being in that School, and seeing that very place where I sate 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 pac'd) had changed my youth into manhood: But, age and experience have taught me, that those were but empty hopes: For I have alwayes found it true, as my Saviour did foretell, Suf­ficient for the day is the evil thereof. Nevertheless, I saw there a succession of Boyes 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 Eaton (vvhich vvas about five Moneths before his death) he be­came much more retir'd, and contemplative; in vvhich time he vvas often visited by Mr. John Hales, (learned Mr. John Hales) then a Fellow of that Colledge, to vvhom upon an occasion he spake to this purpose—I have in my passage to my grave met with most of those Joys of which a discoursive soul is capable: and, being entertain'd with more inferior pleasures then the sons of men are usually made partakers of: neverthe­less, in this voyage I have not alwayes 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 com­pass'd about with humane frailties, Almighty God hath by his grace prevented me from making shipwrack 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 my self but he that [Page] 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, vvherein dwelleth Righteousness.—These, and the like ex­pressions vvere then utter'd by him at the begin­ning of a Feavourish distemper, at vvhich time he vvas also troubled vvith an Asthma, or short spit­ting; but after less then twenty fits, by the help of familiar Physick and a spare Diet, this Feaver abated, yet so as to leave him much vveaker then it found him: and, his Asthma seem'd also to be overcome in a good degree by his forbearing To­bacco, vvhich, as many thoughtfull men do, he al­so had taken somewhat immoderately.—This vvas his then present condition; and, thus he continu­ed till about the end of October 1639. vvhich vvas about a moneth before his death, at vvhich time, he again fell into a Feaver, vvhich, though he seem'd to recover, yet these still left him so vveak, that they and those other common infirmities that accompany age, and vvere vvont to visit him like civil friends, and, after some short time to leave him; came now, both oftner and vvith more vio­lence, and at last took up their constant habitation vvith him, still vveakning his Body and abating his chearfulness: of both vvhich he grew more sensi­ble, and did the oftner retire into his Study, and there made many Papers that had pass'd his Pen both in the dayes of his youth, and in the busie part of his life, useless, by a fire made there to that pur­pose.—These and several unusuall expressions to his Servants and Friends, seem'd to foretell that [Page] the day of his death drew near: for vvhich, he seem'd to those many friends that observ'd him, to be vvell prepar'd, and to be both patient, and free from all fear, as several of his Letters vvrit on this his last sick bed may testifie: and thus he continued till about the beginning of December following, at vvhich time he vvas seiz'd more violently vvith a Quotidian Feaver, in the tenth fit of vvhich Feaver, his better part, that part of Sir Henry Wotton vvhich could not die, put off mortality vvith as much con­tent and chearfulness as humane frailty is capable of; being then in great tranquillity of mind, and in perfect peace vvith God and man.

And thus the Circle of Sir Henry Wotton's Life—(that Circle vvhich 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, vvas by Death thus closed up and compleated, in the seventy and second year of his Age, at Eaton Colledge, vvhere, according to his Will, he now lyes buried, vvith his Motto on a plain Grave-stone over him; dying, vvorthy of his Name and Family, vvorthy of the love and fa­vour of so many Princes, and Persons of eminent Wisdome and Learning, vvorthy of the trust com­mitted unto him, for the Service of his Prince and Countrey.

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.

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 Registred 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 my self before-hand 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 easie for Writers to research with due distin­ction (as they ought) in the actions of eminent [Page 208] 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 dazle 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 freedome of my poor judgement. I will therefore steer as evenly as I can, and deduce him from his Cradle through the deep and lubrick 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 chiefly 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 Beaumont of Coleorton, Es­quire, names on either side well known of Ancient extraction. And yet I remember there was one, who in a wilde Pamphlet which he published, be­sides other pityful 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 Musick, and other slight Litera­ture, till the thirteenth of his age; at which time his Father died. Then his beautiful and provident [Page 209] Mother, (for those Attributes will not be denyed 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 Domestick 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 Courtiers 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 travelled 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 sorms (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 Suiter at London to Sir Roger Ashton's Daugh­ter, a Gentleman of the Bed-chamber to King James, and Master of the Robes. About which times, he falls into intrinsecal society with Sir John Greham, then one of the Gentlemen of his Majesties Privy-Chamber: who, I know not upon what Lu­minaries he spyed in his face, disswaded him from Marriage, and gave him rather encouragement to wooe 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 [Page 210] 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 it self. Insomuch as it pleased him to de­scend, and to avale his goodness, even to the gi­ving of his foresaid friend Sir Iohn 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 Kings heart. For there is nothing more vigilant, nothing more jealous then a Favou­rite, especially towards the wayning time and suspect of saciety. So as many Arts were used to discuss the beginnings of new affection, (which lye out of my Road, being a part of another mans Story.) All which notwithstanding, (for I omit things intervenient) there is conveyed to Mr. Vil­liers an intimation of the Kings pleasure to wait, and to be sworn his servant; And shortly after, his Cup-bearer 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 Kings 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, [Page 211] and sworn here of his Majesties Privy-Counsel; as if a Favourite vvere not so before. The March ensuing, he attended the King into Scotland, and vvas likewise sworn a Counsellor in that King­dome; vvhere (as I have been instructed by un­passionate men) he did carry himself vvith singular sweetness and temper; vvhich 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 New­years-tide after his return from thence (for those beginnings of years vvere very propitious unto him, as if Kings did chuse remarkable dayes to inaugu­rate their Favours, that they may appear acts as vvell of the Times, as of the Will) he vvas Crea­ted Marquess of Buckingham, and made Lord Ad­miral of England, Chief Justice in Eyre of all the Parks and Forrests on the South-side 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 breath a vvhile to satisfie some that perhaps might otherwise vvonder 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 vvere in abstract, vvithout the necessity of States, and Circumstances of time, being, be­sides their natural extent, moreover, once opened and dilated vvith 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 vvithin a vvhile themselves likewise begin to love their gi­vings, and to foment their deeds, no less then Pa­rents [Page 212] do their Children. But let us go on.

For these Offices and Dignities already rehears­ed, and these of the like nature vvhich I shall after set down in their place, vvere (as I am ready to say) but the facings or fringes of his Greatness, in comparison of that trust vvhich his most Gracious Master did cast upon him in the one and twentieth year of his Reign, vvhen he made him the chief Concomitant of his Heir apparent, and only Son, our dear Soveraign, now being, in a journey of much Adventure, and vvhich (to shew the strength of his privacy) had been before not com­municated vvith any other of his Majesties most re­served Counsellors at home, being carried vvith great closeness, liker a business of Love then State; as it vvas in the first intendment. Now, because the vvhole Kingdome stood in a zealous trepidation of the absence of such a Prince; I have been the more desirous to research vvith some diligence, the several passages of the said Journey, and the parti­cular Accidents of any moment in their vvay. They began their motion in the year 1623, on Tuesday the 18th. of February, from the Marquess his house of late purchase, at Newhall in Essex, set­ting out vvith disguised Beards, and vvith borrow­ed Names of Thomas and Iohn Smith. And then at­tended vvith none, but Sir Richard Greham, Master of the Horse to the Marquess, and of inward trust about him. When they passed the River against Gravesend, for lack of silver, they vvere fain to give the Ferry-man a piece of two and twenty shil­lings, vvhich 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 [Page 213] the Officers of the Town vvith vvhat had befallen him, vvho sent presently Post for their stay at Ro­chester, through vvhich they vvere passed before any intelligence could arrive. On the brow of the Hill beyond that City, they vvere somewhat per­plexed by espying the French Embassador, vvith the Kings Coach and other attending him, vvhich made them baulk the beaten Road, and teach Post­hackneys to leap Hedges. At Canterbury, vvhither some voice (as it should seem) vvas run on be­fore, the Mayor of the Town came himself to seize on them, as they vvere taking fresh Horses, in a blunt manner, alledging first a Warrant to stop them from the Councel, next from Sir Lewis Lewk­ver Master of the Ceremonies, and lastly from Sir Henry Manwaring, then Lieutenant of Dover-Castle. At all vvhich confused fiction, the Mar­quess had no leasure to laugh, but thought best to dismask his Beard, and so told him, that he vvas going covertly vvith such slight company, to take a secret view (being: Admiral) of the forward­ness of his Majesties Fleet, vvhich vvas then in pre­paration on the Narrow Seas: This, vvith much ado, did somewhat handsomely heal the disguise­ment. On the vvay afterwards, the Baggage Post-Boy, vvho had been at Court, got (I know not how) a glimmering vvho they vvere; but his mouth vvas easily shut. To Dover, through bad Horses, and those pretty impediments, they came not before six at night; vvhere they found Sir Francis Cottington, then Secretary to the Prince, now Baron of Hanworth, and Mr. Endymion Porter, vvho had been sent before to provide a Vessel for their Transportation. The foresaid Knight vvas conjoyn'd, for the nearness of his place, on the [Page 214] Princes affairs; and for his long Residence in the Court of Spain, vvhere he had gotten singular credit even vvith that cautious Nation, by the temper of his Carriage. Mr. Porter vvas taken in, not only as a Bed-chamber servant of Confidence to his Highness, but likewise as a necessary and useful Instrument, for his natural skil in the Spanish Tongue. And these five vvere at the first the vvhole Parada of this Journey. The next morn­ing, for the night vvas tempestuous, on the 19th. of the foresaid Moneth, 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 vvith two German Gentlemen that came newly from England, vvhere they had seen at New-market the Prince and the Marquess taking Coach together vvith the King, and retaining such a strong impression of them both, that they now bewrayed some knowledge of their persons; but vvere out-faced by Sir Richard Greham, vvho vvould needs perswade them they vvere mistaken. Which in truth is no very hard matter, for the ve­ry strangeness of the thing it self; and almost the impossibility to conceive so great a Prince and Fa­vourite so suddenly Metamorphosed into Travel­lers, vvith no greater train, vvas enough to make any man living unbelieve his five senses. And this, I suppose, next the assurance of their own vvell resolved Carriage against a new accident, to have been their best Anchor in all such Incounters. At Paris the Prince spent one vvhole day to give his mind some contentment in viewing of a famous Ci­ty [Page 215] and Court, vvhich vvas a Neighbour to his fu­ture Estates. But for the better vailing of their Visages, his Highness and the Marquess bought each of them a Perriwig, somewhat to over-shadow their fore heads. Of the King they got a sight af­ter dinner in a Gallery, vvhere he vvas solacing himself vvith familiar pleasures. And of the Queen-Mother as she vvas at her own Table; in neither place descryed, no not by Monsieur Cadinet, vvho saw them in both, and had been lately Am­bassadour in England. Towards Evening, by a meer chance, in appearance, though under-lined vvith a Providence, they had a full sight of the Queen Infanta, and of the Princess Henrietta Ma­ria, vvith other great Ladies, at the practise of a Masquing Dance, vvhich vvas then in preparation; having over-heard two Gentlemen vvho vvere ten­ding towards that sight, after vvhom they pressed, and vvere let in by the Duke De Mont Bason, the Queens Lord Chamberlain, out of humanity to strangers, vvhen divers of the French vvent by Note here, even vvith the point of a Diamond, by vvhat oblique steps, and inimaginable prepara­tives, the high Disposer of Princes Affections doth sometimes contrive the secrets of his vvill. For by this casual curiosity, it fell out, that vvhen af­terwards the Marriage came in motion between our Soveraign 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, vvhen they departed at three of the Clock in the morning from Paris, the 23. of February, vvere spent six dayes to Bayon, the last Town of France, having before at Bourdeaux, [Page 216] bought them five riding-Coats, all of one colour and fashion, in a kind of Noble simplicity: Where Sir Francis Cottington was imployed in a fair manner to keep them from being entertained by the Duke De Espernon, telling him they were Gentlemen of mean degree, and formed yet to little Courtship; who perchance might otherwise (being himself no superficial man in the practices of the World) have pierced somewhat deeper then their out­side.

They were now entred into the deep time of Lent, and could get no flesh in their Innes. 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 Marquess, he would snap one of the Kids, and make some shift to carry him close to their lodging. Which the Prince over-hearing, Why Richard, sayes 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 Marquess and his servant (being both on foot) were chasing 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 shew how his Highness even in such slight and sportful damage had a Noble sense of just dealing.

At Bayon, the Count De Gramont, Governour 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 then their habits [Page 217] bewrayed; yet he let them courteously pass. And four dayes 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 Brittain upon Catholick 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 summe, all the circum­stances and respect of Religion and State intermix­ed together in that commixture, will better be­come a Royal History, or a Councel-Table, then a single Life. Yet I cannot omit some things which intervened at the meeting of two Pleiades, 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 Marquess 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 Mar­quess had intimated unto her some hopes of the Prince his Conversion; which coming into debate, the Marquess so roundly disavowed this guilded dream, as Olivares alledged he had given him La-Mentida, [Page 218] and thereupon forms: a Complement to the Prince himself; which Buckingham denying, and yet Olivares persisting in the said Complement, the Marquess, though now in strange hands, yet seeing both his Honour and the Truth at stake, was not tender likewise to engage his life, but replyed with some heat, that the Condes asseveration would force him to do that which he had not done before; for now he held himself tyed 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 Dukes 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 Marquess of a certain flying noise, that the Prince did plot to be secretly gone: To which the Marquess gave a well temper'd an­swer, that though Love had made his Highness steal out of his own Countrey, yet Fear would ne­ver make him run out of Spain in other manner then should become a Prince of his Royal and generous Vertues.

In Spain they stayed near eight entire moneths, 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 Elogies, according to the contrary motions of popular waves. And now to summe 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 [Page 219] by the sight of Forraign 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 Marquess, there was note taken of two great addi­tions which he had gained: First, he was returned with encrease 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 publick conceit was the main scope of the Journey, that was left in great suspence, 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 Councels; Neither was there wanting some other, that thought him not altoge­ther void of a little Ambition, to shew 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 [Page 220] 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 Soveraign Favour. But this was no more then a meer 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 Mannour 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 cu­stome.

One year, six moneths, two dayes 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 dayes 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 Vertuous 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 [Page 221] 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 Ambassy, though it had a private shew, being charged with more formality then 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 over-spread 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 showred 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 it self, notwithstanding so streight an affi­nity, so lately treated with the one, and actually accomplished with the other. As if indeed (accord­ing to that pleasant Maxime of State) Kingdoms were never married. This must of necessity involve [Page 222] 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 publick employment. For at the Par­liament at Oxford, his Youth and want of Expe­rience in Maritime service, had somewhat been shrewdly touched, even before the sluces 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 Majesties untroubled and serene Commands, even in a tempestuous time. Now the men fell a rubbing of Armour, which a great while had layn oyled: The Magazines of Munition are viewed: The Officers of Remains called to account: frequent Councels of War, as many private confe­rences with expert Sea-men, a Fleet in preparation for some attempt upon Spain.

The Duke himself personally imployed to the States General; and with him joyned in full Com­mission the Earl of Holland, a Peer both of singu­lar grace and solidity, and of all sweet and service­able virtue for publick use.

These two Nobles, after a dangerous passage from Harwich, wherein three of their Ships were foundred, 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 Sisters Dowry had been ra­vished by the German Eagle, mixed with Spanish Fea­thers: A Princess resplendent in darkness, and whose virtues were born within the chance, but without the power of Fortune.

[Page 223] Here it were injurious to over-slip a Noble act in the Duke during this Imployment, which I must, for my part, celebrate above all his Expences: There was a Collection of certain rare Manuscripts, exquisitely written in Arabick, 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 Iesuits 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 Dutchess 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 Favorites abroad) and then at home he met no good news of the [Page 224] 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 Weather 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 Forreign 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 ex­treams, 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 publick [Page 225] 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 travelled Doctor of Physick, 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 On-set, 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 then 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 rent his Sails. For his Majesty considering that almost all his Appeachments were without the compass of his own Reign; and moreover, That nothing al­ledged against him, had, or could be proved by [Page 226] 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 Embarque of our Trading Ships in the River of Bourdeaux, and other points of Sovereign affront) there did succeed the action of Rheez, wherein the Duke was personally imployed on either Element, both as Admiral and General, with hope in that service to recover the publick 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 fitter to do it right, which in truth it greatly wanted, having found more honourable censure, even from some of the French Writers, then it had generally amongst our selves 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 [Page 227] names that were bravely lost, be rather memorized 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 Souldier, 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, then 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 shewed without, the more it wrought intrinse­cally, 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 loth 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 seisure 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 [Page 228] such a defeat of near two hundred Horse (and these not (by his ghess) mounted in haste, but the most part Gentlemen of Family, and great re­solution) seconded with two thousand Foot, as all circumstances well ballanced 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 Plimouth, a strange accident be­fell him, perchance not so worthy of memory for it self, 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 no 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 [Page 229] 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 Womans casual access, joyn'd with that deliberate advertisement which he had before from his Noble Friend, moved him to participate both the tenour of the said Letter, and all the circumstances, with his Company; who were joyntly 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 then 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 blew Ribbon thorow 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 tendred as much as himself; and so liberally rewarded the poor Creature for her good will. After some short directions to his Company, how [Page 230] they should carry themselves, he rode on without perturbation of his mind. He was no sooner en­tred into the Town, but a scambling Souldier clapt 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 rode a pretty distance behind him, conceiving by the premisses 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 ought I can hear, was there any further enquiry into that practice, the Duke peradventure thinking it wisdome not to resent dis­contentments too deep.

At his return to the Court he found no change in Faces, but smothered murmurings 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 Rheez, the Dukes 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 rectifie by his best endeavour under the publick 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 unmindfull in his civil course, to cast an eye upon the wayes, 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 [Page 231] the humors were sharpest: amidst which thoughts, he was surprized 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 Iohn Fel­ton, by nature of a deep melancholy, silent and gloomy constitution, but bred in the active way of a Souldier: and thereby raised to the place of Lieutenant, to a Foot-Company, in the Regi­ment of Sir Iames Ramsey. This was the man that closely within himself had conceived the Dukes death. But what may have been the immediate or greatest motive of that fellonious conception, is even yet in the Clouds.

It was said at first, that he had been stung with a denial of his Captains 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 custome, the place was good, that the Lieutenant of the Colonels Com­pany might well pretend to the next vacant Cap­tainship under the same Regiment. Which Felton acknowledged to be in it self 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 lye festring in his brest, and by a certain inflammation produce this [Page 232] effect. But that carries small probability, that Felton would so deface his own act, as to make the Duke no more then an oblique 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, alledg­ing, 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 vertuous 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 it self 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 it self; 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 Horse-back, 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 [Page 233] 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 Imployment, 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 Fryer. And there a little before the Dukes 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 then the Chamber which he voided, while the Duke came with Sir Thomas Fryer close at his ear, in the very moment as the said Knight withdrew himself from the Duke, this Assasinate 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 Mayl would be but a silly defence; and as for any single mans 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 favoure That within the space of not many minutes after [...]d, [Page 234] fall of the body, and removal thereof into the first Room, there was not a living creature in either of the Chambers, no more then if it had lien 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 horrour of the fact had stupified all curiosity, and so dispersed the multitude, that it is thought even the murther­er himself might have escaped (for who gave the blow, none could affirm) if he had not lingred 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 re­membred by a vertuous fame, or an illustrious in­famy.

Thus died this great Peer, in the 36 year of his age compleat, and three dayes over, in a time of great recourse unto him, and dependance upon him, the House, and Town full of Servants and Suiters, his Dutchess 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 Dukes Case.

Being to take his leave of my Lords Grace of Canterbury, then Bishop of London, whom he knew well planted in the Kings unchangeable affection by [Page 235] his own great abilities; after courtesies of course had passed between them: My Lord, sayes the Duke, I know your Lordship hath very worthily good accesses unto the King our Soveraign, let me pray you to put his Majesty in mind to be good, as I no wayes 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 freedome to ask him whe­ther he had never any secret abodement in his mind. No (replyed 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 Majesties 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.

[Page 236] 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 her self, which she did with the affrightment of a dream, Her Brother seem­ing to pass thorow a field with her in her Coach; where hearing a sudden shout of the people, and asking 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 entred into her Bed­chamber for a chosen Messenger of the Dukes death.

This is all that I dare present of that nature to any of judgement, not unwillingly omitting cer­tain prognostick Anagrams, and such strains of fancy.

He took to Wife, eight years and two moneths 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 Rheez; and his third, the Lord Francis, was born after his Fathers 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 chear him after his return from that unlucky Voy­age.

For these sweet pledges, and no less for the un­questionable vertues 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 [Page 237] 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 joynture: He left his elder Brother of the same womb a Viscount, and his younger an Earl; Sir Edward Villiers, his half Brother on the Fathers side, he either preferred or removed (call it how you will) from his step-mothers 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 Go­vernour 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 dayes 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 Beaumont, 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 plentifull condition: He did not much strengthen his own subsistence in Court, [Page 238] but stood there on his own feet, for the truth is, the most of his Allies rather leaned upon him, then 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 solicite his Causes; He lest all both in good Fortune, and, which is more, in good Fame.

Things very seldome consociated in the instru­ments of great Personages.