[cxxv.]

_To the Right Honourable Sir_ Robert Karre, _at Court_.

SIR,

If I should refuse the liberty which you enlarge to me, of eating in your chamber, you might suspect that I reserved it for greater boldnesses, and would not spend it in this. But, in good faith, I do not eat before, nor can after, till I have been at home; so much hath my this years debility disabled me, even for receiving favours. After the Sermon, I will steal into my Coach home, and pray that my good purpose may be well accepted, and my defects graciously pardoned. _Amen._

_Yours intirely_ J. Donne.

_I will be at your chamber at one after noon._

[cxxvi.]

_To the Right Honourable Sir_ Robert Karre, _at Court_.

SIR,

I pursued my ambition of having the honour to kisse your hands some where, so farre as to inform my selfe occasionally of my great neighbour. And I perceive he is under an inundation of uncertain commers, which he cannot devest, except I had your leave to speake plain to him. A second inconvenience is, that he is so deafe, that we must speak to the whole house, if we will speake to him. And a third is, that I am in a riddling, rather a juggling indisposition, fast and loose, and therefore dare not stirre farre. Yet Sir, I am not thereby unfit to receive the honour of seeing you here, if greater businesse have not overcome, or worn out, your former inclinablenesse to come into these quarters. If you shall be pleased to say to my man, that you will make as though you dined with me to day, and come, if your businesse require your going to his Lordship, you may dine with him, after you have fasted with me. Today, or any day, which may be more yours, I aske it of you with all earnestnesse, on this side importunity, which is the detestation of

_Your humblest and thankfullest servant_ J. Donne.

[cxxvii.]

_To the Right Honourable Sir_ Robert Karre, _at Court_.

SIR,

This morning I have received a signification from my Lord Chamberlaine, that his Majesty hath commanded to morrows Sermon at S. _James_; And that it is the afternoon; (for, into my mouth there must not enter the word, after-dinner, because that day there enters no dinner into my mouth.) Towards the time of the service, I aske your leave, that I may hide my selfe in your outchamber. Or if businesse, or privatenesse, or company make that inconvenient, that you will be pleased to a.s.signe some servant of yours to shew me the Closet, when I come to your chamber. I have no other way there, but you; which I say not, as though I had not a.s.surance enough therein, but because you have too much trouble thereby; nor I have no other end there, then the Pulpit: you are my station, and that my exaltation; And in both, I shall ever endevour to keep you from being sorry for having thought well of, or being ashamed of having testified well for

_Your poor and very true servant in Chr. Jrs._ J. Donne.

[cxxviii.]

_To the Honourable Knight Sir_ Robert Karre, _at Court_.

SIR,

I have obeyed the formes of our Church of _Pauls_ so much, as to have been a solemn Christmas man, and tryed conclusions upon my selfe, how I could sit out the siege of new faces, every dinner. So that I have not seen the B[ishop] in some weeks. And I know not whether he be in case, to afford that privacy, which you justly desire. This day, I am in my bondage of entertaining. Suppers I presume, are inconvenient to you. But this evening I will spie upon the B. and give you an account to morrow morning of his disposition; when, if he cannot be intire to you, since you are gone so farre downwards in your favours to me, be pleased to pursue your humiliation so farre as to chuse your day, and either to suffer the solitude of this place, or to change it, by such company, as shall waite upon you, and come as a visitor and overseer of this Hospitall of mine, and dine or sup at this miserable chezmey [_chez moi_].

_Your humblest and thankfullest servant_ J. Donne.

4 _Jan._ 1626[7]

[cxxix.]

_To my n.o.ble friend_ M{ris} c.o.kain _at_ Ashburne.

_My n.o.blest sister_,

But that it is sweetened by your command, nothing could trouble me more, then to write of my self. Yet, if I would have it known, I must write it my self; for, I neither tell children, nor servants, my state. I have never good temper, nor good pulse, nor good appet.i.te nor good sleep. Yet, I have so much leasure to recollect my self, as that I can thinke I have been long thus, or often thus. I am not alive because I have not had enough upon me to kill me, but because it pleases G.o.d to pa.s.se me through many infirmities before he take me either by those particular remembrances, to bring me to particular repentances, or by them to give me hope of his particular mercies in heaven. Therefore have I been more affected with Coughs in vehemence, more with deafenesse, more with toothach, more with the vurbah, then heretofore. All this mellows me for heaven, and so ferments me in this world, as I shall need no long concoction in the grave, but hasten to the resurrection. Not onely to be nearer that grave, but to be nearer to the service of the Church, as long as I shall be able to do any, I purpose, G.o.d willing, to be at _London_, within a fortnight after your receit of this, as well because I am under the obligation of preaching at _Pauls_ upon Candlemas day, as because I know nothing to the contrary, but that I may be called to Court, for Lent service; and my witnesse is in heaven, that I never left out S.

_Dunstans_, when I was able to do them that service; nor will now; though they that know the state of that Church well, know that I am not so bound, as the world thinks, to preach there; for, I make not a shilling profit of S. _Dunstans_ as a Church man, but as my L[ord] of _Dorset_ gave me the lease of the Impropriation, for a certain rent, and a higher rent, then my predecessor had it at. This I am fain to say often, because they that know it not, have defamed me, of a defectiveness towards that Church; and even that mistaking of theirs I ever have, and ever shall endevour to rectifie, by as often preaching there, as my condition of body will admit.

All our company here is well, but not at home now, when I write; for, lest I should not have another return to _London_, before the day of your Carrier, I write this, and rest

_Your very affectionate servant, and friend, and brother_ J. Donne.

15 Jan. 1630[1]

Abrey-hatch.

THE END

NOTES

THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY

"The most virtuous and excellent Lady M{ris} Bridget Dunch," was the wife of Edmund Dunch of Wittenham, Berkshire, and the daughter of Sir Anthony Hungerford. Her mother, Elizabeth, was the daughter of Sir Thomas Lucy, son of the Sir Thomas Lucy of Charlecote whose deer play so large a part in the biographies of Shakespeare, and father of the Sir Thomas who became Donne's friend and correspondent. Her distinguished services as protectress of "that part of [Donne's] Soul, that he left behinde him, his Fame and Reputation" seem not to be elsewhere recorded.

I

Mistress Bridget White, to whom the first four letters are addressed, is not otherwise known. Mr. Edmund Gosse is inclined to identify her with the Lady Kingsmill of the fifth letter. This lady, the daughter of Thomas White, Esq., of Southwick, Hants, married Sir Henry Kingsmill in 1612, and lived until 1672. If Mr. Gosse's conjecture is correct, Mistress White was in her teens when the first four letters were written, and Donne about twenty years her senior. He writes from his lodgings in the Strand, between which and his house at Mitcham, near Croydon, Surrey, he divided his time from 1605 to 1610.

II

The allusion to the illness of Sir Edward Herbert, afterward Lord Herbert of Cherbury, fixes the date of this letter. He sailed from Dieppe for Dover in February, 1609, and came at once to London. In his _Autobiography_ (ed. Sidney Lee, 2d edition, London, n. d., p. 60) Herbert writes,