best Learning more than ever, and his Company very much defired by the Nobility and foreign Embaffadors, who were extremely fond of bis Acquaintance. At laft, at King James's Requeft, he applied himself to the Study of Divinit, and entered into Holy Or-. ders: Whereupon, his Majefty first made him Preacher of Lincoln's-Inn, and he was afterwards advanced to the Deanery of St. Paul's. He died the. 31ft of March, 1631, and was buried in St. Paul's Church with great Solemnity, attended by many Perǝ fons of Quality.

Dr. King Bishop of Chichester, who was his Exe cutor, erected a Monument to his Memory, with this Infcription.

JOHANNES DONNE, S. TurPor Poft varia Studia, quibus ab Annis tenerrimis fideliter, Nec infeliciter, incubuit.

Infinity & impulfu Spiritus fanéti, monitu & hortatu
Regis Jacobi Ordines Sacros Amplexus.
·Anno fui Jefu 1614. & fure Etatis 42
Decanatu hujus Ecclefiæ, indutus 27. Nouembris 1621.
Exutus marte ultimo die Martii 1631
Hic, licet in Occiduo Ginere, afpicet Eum,
Cujus Nomen eft Oriens,

But we must not forget our promifed Quotation: The Parfon that Dr. Donne met, had travell'd it seems, which was not an uncommon Thing then, and his Drefs was not unlike that of a Scholar; his Cloaths were coarfe, and black and bare, and his Jerkin had been Velvet, but now it was almoft rubb'd to Rash, and began to let the Air in, fo that in a very little Time it would not hang together, to be known what it originally was made of.

He

He names me, and comes to me; I whisper, God
How have I finn'd, that thy Wraths furious Rod,
This Fellow, chufeth me! He faith, Sir,
I love your Judgment, whom do you prefer
For the beft Linguift? and I feelily
Said that I thought Calepines Dictionary.
Nay, but of Men moft fweet, Sir? Beza then,
Some Jefuits, and two reverend Men
Of our two Academies I named: here
He ftopt me, and faid, Nay your Apoftles were
Good pretty Linguifts, fo Panurgus was;
Yet a poor Gentleman; all thefe may pafs
By Travail. Then, as if he would have fold
His Tongue, he prais'd it, and fuch Wonders told,
That I was fain to fay, if you had liv'd, Sir,
Time enough to have been Interpreter

To Babels Bricklayers, fure the Tower had flood.
He adds, if of Court Life you knew the good,
You would leave Loneness. I faid, not alone
My Lonenefs is; but Spartanes Fashion
To teach by painting Drunkards doth not last
Now, Aretines Pictures have made few chafte
No more can Princes Courts, though there be few
Better Pictures of Vice, teach me Virtue.

He like to a high-ftretcht Lute-ftring Squeakt, O Sir,
'Tis fweet to talk of Kings. At Weltminster,
Said 1, the Man that keeps the Abby Tombs,
And for his Bribe, doth with whoever comes
Of all our Harrys, and our Edwards talk,
From King to King, and all their Kin can walk:
Your Ears fhall hear nought but Kings; your Eyes meet
Kings only: The Way to it is King-ftreet.

He fmack'd, and cry'd, He's bafe, mechanique, course, So're all your Englishmen in their Difcourse.

Are

He fpies me out. I whisper, gracious God! What Sin of mine cou'd meritfuch a Rod? That the Shot of Dulness now muft be From this thy Blunderbufs discharged on me! Permit (he cries) no Stranger to your Fame To crave your Sentiment, if Pope's your Name. [I, What Speech efteem you moft? The King's, faid But the best Words?" O Sir, the Dictionary. You mifs my

Aim: mean the moft acute

And perfect Speaker?" Onflow paft Difpute. But Sir, of Writers? Swift, for clofer Stile, "But Ho**y for a Period of a Mile.

Why yes, 'tis granted, these indeed may pafs
Good common Linguifts, and fo Panurge was;
Nay troth, th' Apoftles (tho' perhaps too rough)
Had once a pretty Gift of Tongues enough:
Yet these were all poor Gentlemen! I dare
Affirm, 'twas Travel made them what they were.
Thus others Talents having nicely fhown,
He came by fure Tranfition to his own:
'Till I cry'd out, You prove yourself fo able,
Pity! you was not Druggerman at Babel;
For had they found a Linguift half fo good,
I make no Queftion but the Tow'r had flood.
"Obliging Sir! for Courts you fure were made
Why then for ever buried in the Shade?
"Spirits like you, fhou'd fee and fhou'd be feen,
"The King would smile on you--at leaft the Queen."
Ah gentle Sir! you Courtiers fo cajole us
But Tully has it, Nunquam minus folus
And as for Courts, forgive me if I fay
No Leffons now are taught the Spartan Way
Tho' in his Pictures Luft be full difplay'd,
Few are the Converts Aretine has made;

And

Are not your Frenchman heat? Mine, as you fee,
I have but one, Sir, look, be follows me.

Certes they are neatly cloath'd. I, of this Mind am,
Your only Wearing is your Grogaram.

Not fo, Sir, I have more. Under this Pitch
He would not fly; I chaf'd bim: But as Itch
Scratch'd into Smart, and as blunt Iron grown'd
Into an Edge, burts worfe: So, I (Fool) found,
Croffing hurt me. To fit my Sullenness,
He to another Key his Stile doth drefs;

And afks, what News? I tell him of new Playes,
He takes my Hand, and as a Still which stayes
A Sembrief, 'twixt each Drop, he niggardly,
As loath to inrich me, fo tells many a Ly.
More than ten Hollenfheads, or Halls, or Stows,
Of trivial boufbold Trash: He knows, he knows
When the Queen frown'd or smil'd, and he knows what
A fubtle States-man may gather of that ;

He knows whom loves whom; and whom by Poyfon
Haftes to an Office's Reverfion;

Who wafts in Meat, in Clothes, in Horfe, he notes,
Who loveth Whores, and who Boys, and who Goats.
He knows who hath fold his Land, and now doth beg
A Licenfe, old Iron, Boots, Shoes, and Egge-
Shels to tranfport; fhortly Boys fhall not play
· At Span-counter, or Blow point, but shall pay
Toll to fome Courtier; and wifer than all us,
He knows what Lady is not painted. Thus
He with home Meats cloyes me. I belch, fpue, fpit,
Look pale and fickly, like a Patient, yet
He thrust on more, and as he had undertook,
To fay Gallo-Belgicus without Book,

Speaks of all States and Deeds that have been fince
The Spaniards came, to th' Lofs of Amyens.
Like a big Wife, at Sight of loathed Meat,
Ready to travail: So I figh and fweat

And tho' the Court fhow Vice exceeding clean,
None fhou'd, by my Advice, learn Virtue there.
At this entranc'd, he lifts his Hands and Eyes,
Squeaks like a high-ftretch'd Lute-ftring, and replive
Oh 'tis the fweeteft of all earthly Things,
"To gaze on Princes, and to talk of Kings!
Then happy Man who fhows the Tombs! faid I,
He dwells amidst the Royal Family;

He, ev'ry Day, from King to King can walk,
Of all our Harries, all our Edwards talk,
And get by fpeaking Truth of Monarchs dead,
What few can of the Living, Eafe and Bread.

Lord! Sir, a meer Mechanick ftrangely low,
"And courfe of Phrafe--your English all are fo...
"How elegant your Freuchman ?--Mine d'ye mean?
I have but one, I hope the Fellow's clean.
"Oh! Sir, politely well! nay, let me die,
Your only Wearing is your Padua-foy,"
Not Sir my only, I have better ftill,
And this you fee is but my Difhabille-
Wild to get loofe, his Patience I provoke,
Miftake, confound, object at all he spoke.
But as coarfe Iron, fharpen'd, mangles more,
And Itch moft hurts when anger'd to a Sore;
So when you plague a Fool, 'tis ftill the Curfe,
You only make the Matter worfe and worfe
He paft it o'er; affects an eafy Smile
At all my Peevifhnefs, and turns his Stile.
He afks, What News? I tell him of new Plays,
New Eunuchs, Harlequins, and Operas,
He hears, and as a Still with Simples in it,
Between each Drop it gives, ftays half a Minute;
Loth to enrich me with too quick Replies,
By little, and by little, drops his Lies.
Meer houfhold Trafh! of Birth-night Balls and
More than ten Hollingsheads, or Halls, or Stows.

[Shows,

When