A monument that, as it has, shall last
And prove a monument to that defaced;
Itself, but with the world, not to be razed.

And even in their flowery characters,

My father's grave part of your friendship shares; For you have honor'd his in strewing theirs.

Thus by an office, though particular,
Virtue's whole common-weal obliged are;
For in a virtuous act all good men share.

And by this act the world is taught to know,
That the true friendship we to merit owe,
Is not discharged by compliment and show.

But yours is friendship of so pure a kind,
From all mean ends and interest so refined,
It ought to be a pattern to mankind.

For, whereas most men's friendships here beneath, Do perish with their friends' expiring breath, Yours proves a friendship living after death;

By which the generous Wotton, reverend Donne,
Soft Herbert, and the church's champion,
Hooker, are rescued from oblivion.

For though they each of them his time so spent,
As raised unto himself a monument,

With which Ambition might rest well content;

Yet their great works, though they can never die,
And are in truth superlatively high,

Are no just scale to take their virtues by:

Because they show not how th' Almighty's grace,
By various and more admirable ways,

Brought them to be the organs of his praise.

But what their humble modesty would hide,
And was by any other means denied,

Is by your love and diligence supplied.

Wotton,

a nobler soul was never bred!

You, by your narrative's most even thread,
Through all his labyrinths of life have led;

Through his degrees of honor and of arts,
Brought him secure from Envy's venomed darts,
Which are still levelled at the greatest parts;

Through all th' employments of his wit and spirit, Whose great effects these kingdoms still inherit, The trials then, now trophies, of his merit;

Nay, through disgrace, which oft the worthiest have, Thro' all state-tempests, thro' each wind and wave, And laid him in an honorable grave.

And yours, and the whole world's beloved Donne,
When he a long and wild career had run,
To the meridian of his glorious sun;

And being then an object of much ruth,
Led on by vanities, error, and youth,
Was long ere he did find the way to truth:

By the same clew, after his useful swing,
To serve at his God's altar here you bring,
Where a once wanton muse doth anthems sing.

And though by God's most powerful grace alone His heart was settled in Religion,

Yet 't is by you we know how it was done;

And know, that having crucified vanities
And fixed his hope, he closed up his own eyes,
And then your friend a saint and preacher dies.

The meek and learned Hooker too, almost
I' the Church's ruins overwhelm'd and lost,
Is by your pen recovered from his dust.

And Herbert; - he, whose education, Manners, and parts, by high applauses blown, Was deeply tainted with Ambition,

And fitted for a court, made that his aim;
At last, without regard to birth or name,
For a poor country-cure does all disclaim;

Where, with a soul composed of harmonies,
Like a sweet swan, he warbles as he dies
His Maker's praise, and his own obsequies.

All this you tell us, with so good success,
That our obliged posterity shall profess,

T' have been your friend, was a great happiness.

And now! when many worthier would be proud
T' appear before you, if they were allowed,

I take up room enough to serve a crowd:

Where to commend what you have choicely writ,
Both my poor testimony and my

Are equally invalid and unfit:

wit

Yet this, and much more, is most justly due,
Were what I write as elegant as true,

To the best friend I now or ever knew.

But, my dear friend, 't is so, that you and I,

By a condition of mortality,

With all this great, and more proud world, must die :

In which estate I ask no more of Fame,

Nor other monument of Honor claim,

Than that of your true friend, t' advance my name.

And if your many merits shall have bred
An abler pen to write your Life when dead,
I think an honester cannot be read.

JAN. 17, 1672.

CHARLES COTTON.

COPY OF A LETTER

WRIT TO

MR. IZAAK WALTON,

BY

DOCTOR KING, LORD BISHOP OF CHICHESTER.

HONEST IZAAK,

THOUGH a familiarity of more than forty years' continuance, and the constant experience of your love, even in the worst of the late sad times, be sufficient to endear our friendship; yet, I must confess my affection much improved, not only by evidences of private respect to many that know and love you, but by your new demonstration of a public spirit, testified in a diligent, true, and useful collection of so many material passages as you have now afforded me in the Life of venerable Mr. Hooker; of which, since desired by such a friend as yourself, I shall not deny to give the testimony of what I know concerning him and his learned books; but shall first here take a fair occasion to tell you, that you have been happy in