And it may yet be more considerable, that this Nicholas and Thomas Wotton should both (being men of holy lives, of even tempers, and much given to fasting and prayer,) foresee and foretell the very days of their own death: Nicholas did so, being then seventy years of age, and in perfect health. Thomas did the like in the sixty-fifth year of his age, who being then in London (where he died) and foreseeing his death there, gave direction in what manner his body should be carried to Bocton; and though he thought his uncle Nicholas worthy of that noble monument which he built for him in the cathedral church of Canterbury, yet this humble man gave direction concerning himself to be buried privately, and especially without any pomp at his funeral. This is some account of this family, which seemed to be beloved of God.

But it may now seem more than time that I return to sir Henry Wotton at Oxford, where, after his optic lecture, he was taken into such a bosom friendship with the learned Albericus Gentilis (whom I formerly named) that if it had been possible Gentilis would have breathed all his excellent knowledge, both of the mathematics and law, into the breast of his dear Harry (for so Gentilis used to call him) and though he was not able to do that, yet there was in sir Henry such a propensity and connaturalness to the Italian language, and those studies whereof Gentilis was a great master, that this friendship between them did daily increase, and proved daily advantageous to sir Henry, for the improvement of him in several sciences during his stay in the University.

From which place, before I shall invite the reader to follow him into a foreign nation, though I

must

must omit to mention divers persons that were then in Oxford, of memorable note for learning, and friends to sir Henry Wotton, yet I must not omit the mention of a love that was there begun between him and Dr. Donne, (sometime dean of St. Paul's,) a man of whose abilities I shall forbear to say any thing, because he who is of this nation, and pretends to learning or ingenuity, and is ig norant of Dr. Donne, deserves not to know him. The friendship of these two I must not omit to mention, being such a friendship as was generously elemented: and as it was begun in their youth, and in an University, and there maintained by correspondent inclinations and studies, so it lasted till age and death forced a separation.

In Oxford he staid till about two years after his father's death, at which time he was about the two and twentieth year of his age; and having to his great wit added the ballast of learning, and knowledge of the arts, he then laid aside his books, and betook himself to the useful library of travel, and a more general conversation with mankind; employing the remaining part of his youth, his industry and fortune, to adorn his mind, and to purchase the rich treasure of foreign knowledge; of which, both for the secrets of nature, the dispositions of many nations, their several laws and languages, he was the possessor in a very large measure, as I shall faithfully make to appear, before I take my pen from the following narration of his life.

In his travels, which was almost nine years before his return into England, he staid but one year in France, and most of that in Geneva, where he became acquanted with Theodore Beza (then very aged), and with Isaac Causabon, in whose house (if I be rightly informed) sir Henry Wotton was

lodged,

lodged, and there contracted a most worthy friendship with that man of rare learning and ingenuity.

Three of the remaining eight years were spent in Germany, the other five in Italy (the stage on which God appointed he should act a great part of his life) where both in Rome, Venice, and Florence, he became acquainted with the most eminent men for learning, and all manner of arts; as picture, sculpture, chemistry, architecture, and other manual arts, even arts of inferior nature; of all which he was a most dear lover, and a most excellent judge.

He returned out of Italy into England about the thirtieth year of his age, being then noted by many, both for his person and comportment; for indeed he was of choice shape, tall of stature, and of a most persuasive behaviour; which was so mixed. with sweet discourse, and civilities, as gained him much love from all persons with whom he entered into an acquaintance.

And whereas he was noted in his youth to have a sharp wit, and apt to jest; that by time, travel, and conversation, was so polished, and made so useful, that his company seemed to be one of the delights of mankind; insomuch as Robert earl of Essex (then one of the darlings of fortune, and in greatest favour with queen Elizabeth) invited him first into a friendship, and after a knowledge of his great abilities, to be one of his secretaries; (the other being Mr. Henry Cuffe, sometime of Merton College in Oxford; and there also the acquaintance of sir Henry Wotton in his youth; Mr. Cuffe being then a man of no common note in the University for his learning; nor after his removal from that place, for the great abilities of his mind; nor indeed, for the fatalness of his end.)

Sir Henry Wotton being now taken into a serviceable

VOL. V.

C

viceable friendship with the earl of Essex, did personally attend his counsels and employments in two voyages at sea against the Spaniards, and also in that (which was the earl's last) into Ireland; that voyage wherein he then did so much provoke the queen to anger, and worse at his return into England; upon whose immoveable favour the earl had built such sandy hopes, as encouraged 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 earl's followers were also divided into their several interests) which encouraged the earl to those undertakings which proved so fatal to him, and divers of his confederation; yet, knowing treason to be so comprehensive, as to take in even circumstances, and out of them to make such positive conclusions as subtle statesmen shall project, either for their revenge or safety; considering this, he thought prevention by absence out of England, a better security than to stay in it, and there plead his innocence in a prison. Therefore did he, so soon as the earl was apprehended, very quickly, and as privately glide through Kent to Dover, without so much as looking toward his native and beloved Bocton; and was by the help of favourable winds and liberal payment of the mariners, within sixteen hours after his departure from London, set upon the French shore; where he heard shortly after, that the earl was arraigned, condemned, and beheaded; and that his friend Mr. Cuffe was hanged, and divers other persons of eminent quality executed.

The times did not look so favourably upon sir Henry Wotton, as to invite his return into England; having therefore procured of sir Edward Wotton,

his elder brother, an assurance that his annuity should be paid him in Italy, thither he went, happily renewing his intermitted friendship and interest, and indeed, his great content in a new conversation with his old acquaintance in that nation; and more particularly in Florence (which city is not more eminent for the great duke's court, than for the great recourse of men of choicest note for learning and arts,) in which number he there met with his old friend Seignior Vietta, a gentleman of Venice, and then taken to be secretary to the great duke of Tuscany.

After some stay in Florence, he went the fourth time to visit Rome, where in the English College he had very many friends (their humanity made them really so, though they knew him to be a dissenter from many of their principles of religion,) and having enjoyed their company, and satisfied himself concerning some curiosities that did partly occasion his journey thither, he returned back to Florence, where a most notable accident befell him; an accident that did not only find new employment for his choice abilities, but introduce him to a knowledge and an interest with our king James, 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 James then king of the Scots, was confidently believed by most to be the man upon whom the sweet trouble of kingly government would be imposed; and the queen declining very fast, both by age and visible infirmities, those that were of the Romish persuasion in point of religion (even Rome itself, and those of this nation) knowing that the death of the queen, and the establishing of her successor,