whom you must (if you deal truly with yourself) acknowledge to be powerful over all, and just in all, be feared by you; yea, if you be dear unto yourself, and prefer an everlasting happiness before a pleasant dream, which you must shortly awake out of, and then repent in the bitterness of your soul; if any of these things be regarded by you, then, I say, call yourself to account for what is past, cancel the leagues you have made without the warrant of a religious conscience, make a resolute covenant with your God, to serve him with all your natural and spiritual, inward and outward gifts and abilities; and then he that is faithful, and cannot lie, hath promised to honour them that honour him. He will give you that inward peace of soul, and true joy of heart, which till you have you shall never rest; and which, when you have, you shall never be shaken; and which you never can attain to any other way than this I have showed you. I know your lordship may say to yourself, and object to me, "this is but a vapour of melancholy, and the stile of a prisoner, and that I was far enough from it when I lived in the world as you do now, and may be so again, when my fetters be taken from me." I answer, "though your lordship should think so, yet cannot I distrust the goodness of my God, that his mercy will fail me, or his grace forsake me. I have so deeply engaged myself, that I should be one of the most miserable apostates that ever was: I have so avowed my profession, and called so many from time to time to witness it, and to be watchmen over me, that I should be the hollowest hypocrite

that ever was born." But though I should perish in my own sin, and draw upon myself my own damnation, should not you take hold of the grace and mercy in God which is offered unto you, and make your profit of my fearful and wretched example? I was longer a slave and servant to the world, and the corruptions of it, than you have been, and therefore could hardly be drawn from it. I had many calls, and answered some of them slowly; thinking a soft pace fast enough to come to Christ, and myself forward enough when I saw the end of my journey, though I arrived not at it: and therefore I have been, by God's providence, violently pulled, hauled, and dragged to the marriage feast, as the world hath seen. It was just with God to afflict me in this world, that he might give me joy in another. I had too much knowledge, when I performed too little obedience, and was therefore to be beaten with double stripes: God grant your lordship may feel the comfort I now enjoy in my unfeigned conversion, but that you may never feel the torments I have suffered from my too long delaying it. I had none but divines to call upon me, to whom I said, "if my ambition could have entered into their narrow hearts, they would not have been so humble; or, if my delights had been tasted by them, they could not have been so precise:" but your lordship hath one to call upon you that knows what it is you now enjoy, and what the greatest fruit and end is of all the contentments the world can afford. Think, therefore, dear earl, that I have stated and buoyed all the ways of pleasure to you, and left

them as sea marks for you to keep the channel of religious virtue: for shut your eyes never so long, they must be open at last; then you must say with me, there is no peace to the wicked. I will make a covenant with my soul, not to suffer my eyes to sleep in the night, nor my thoughts to attend the first business of the day, till I have prayed to my God that your lordship may believe and make profit of this plain but faithful admonition : and then, I know, your country and friends shall be happy in you, and yourself successful in all you take in hand; which shall be an unspeakable comfort to your lordship's cousin and true friend, whom no worldly cause can divide from you,

ESSEX.

SIR WALTER RALEGH TO HIS WIFE*. You shall now receive, my dear wife, my last words in these my last lines. My love I send you, that you may keep it when I am dead; and my counsel, that you may remember it, when I am no more. I would not, by my will, present you with sorrows, dear Bess: let them go into the grave with me, and be buried in the dust. And, seeing it is not the will of God that ever I shall see you more in this life, bear it patiently, and with a heart like thyself.

First, I send you all the thanks which my heart can conceive, or my words can express, for your many travails and care taken for me; which,

* Written in 1603, after sentence of death had been passed on him.

though they have not taken effect as you wished, yet my debt to you is not the less. But pay it I never shall in this world.

Secondly, I beseech you, for the love you bear me living, do not hide yourself many days after my death. But, by your travails, seek to help your miserable fortunes, and the right of your poor child. Thy mournings cannot avail me; I am but dust.

Thirdly, you shall understand that my land was conveyed bonâ fide to my child. The writings were drawn at Midsummer was twelve months. My honest cousin, Brett, can testify so much, and Dalberrie too can remember somewhat therein: and I trust my blood will quench their malice that have thus cruelly murdered me, and that they will not seek also to kill thee and thine with extreme poverty. To what friend to direct thee I know not, for all mine have left me in the true time of trial; and I plainly perceive that my death was determined from the first day. Most sorry I am, God knows, that, being thus surprised with death, I can leave you in no better estate. God is my witness, I meant you all my office of wines, or all that I could have purchased by selling it, half my stuff, and all my jewels, but some one for the boy. But God hath prevented all my resolutions, even that great God that ruleth all in all. B. if you can live free from want, care for no more; the rest is but vanity. Love God, and begin betimes to repose yourself on him; and therein shall you find true and lasting riches, and endless comfort. For the rest, when you have travailed, and wearied your

thoughts over all sorts of worldly cogitation, you shall but sit down by sorrow in the end. Teach your son also to love and fear God, while he is yet young, that the fear of God may grow up with him. And then God will be a husband to you, and a father to him; a husband, and a father, which cannot be taken from you.

Bayly oweth me 2001., and Adrian Gilbert 6001. In Jersey, also, I have much money owing Besides, the arrears of the wines will pay my debts; and, howsoever you do, for my soul's sake pay all poor men.

me.

When I am gone, no doubt, you shall be sought to by many; for the world thinks that I was very rich. But take heed of the pretences of men, and their affections. For they last not, but in honest and worthy men; and no greater misery can befall you in this life, than to become a prey, and afterwards to be despised. I speak not this, God knows, to dissuade you from marriage: for it will be best for you, both in respect of the world and of God. As for me, I am no more yours, nor you mine. Death has cut us asunder; and God hath divided me from the world, and you from me.

Remember your poor child, for his father's sake, who chose you and loved you in his happiest time. Get those letters, if it be possible, which I writ to the lords, wherein I sued for my life. God is my witness, it was for you and yours that I desired life. But it is true, that I disdain myself for begging it; for know it, dear wife, that your son is the son of a true man, and one who in his own respect despiseth death, and all his misshapen and ugly forms.