THough it be inconsistent with the duty of a wife, to be injurious in any respect to her husband; yet in this my bold undertaking I fear I shall be so to mine: which I doubt not but he would have forgiven, if he had been living, as proceeding from love; and I hope his friends will pardon (now he is dead) as being the last duty I can perform to a loving husband. Those that see with what pen his Works are written, will say his life deserved a more skilfull Artist to set it forth: which office though many might have been procured to undertake; and to which I doubt not, but some would voluntarily have offered them­selves, if they had known that such a thing had been inten­ded: yet have I (with much zeal, though small discretion) adventured upon it my self, as being fully assured that none can be more sensible of the losse of him, then I, though thousands might have exprest that losse to the world with more Art and better judgement.

He was a Gentleman both by birth and desert: descen­ded of an ancient Family, and yet (which is rare in these last and worst times) he was an ornament to his Ancestors. His Father was James Quarles of Rumford Esquire, Clerk of the Green-cloth and Purveyor of the Navie to Queen Elizabeth, and yonger brother to Sir Robert Quarles. His education was suitable to his birth; first, at schoole in the [Page]Countrey, where his school-fellows will say, he surpassed all his equals; afterward at Christs Colledge in Cambridge, where how he profited, I am not able to judge, but am ful­ly assured by men of much learning and judgement, that his Works in very many places doe sufficiently testifie more then ordinary fruits of his University studies. Last of all, he was transplanted from thence to Lincolns Inne, where for some yeares he studied the Laws of England; not so much out of desire to benefit himself thereby, as his friends and neighbours (shewing therein his continuall inclination to peace) by composing suits & differences amongst them.

After he came to maturity, he was not desirous to put himself into the world, otherwise he might have had grea­ter preferments then he had: He was neither so unfit for Court preferment, nor so ill beloved there, but that he might have raised his fortunes thereby, if he had had any inclina­tion that way. But his mind was chiefly set upon his devo­tion and study: yet not altogether so much, but that he faith­fully discharged the place of Cup-bearer to the Queen of Bohemia, and the office of Secretary to the Reverend and Learned Lord Primate of Ireland, that now is, and of Chronologer to the famous City of London; which place he held to his death, and would have given that City (and the world) a testimony that he was their faithfull servant therein, if it had pleased God to blesse him with life to per­fect what he had begun. He was the husband of one wife, by whom he was the father of eighteen children, and how faithfull and loving a husband and father he was, the joynt tears of his widow and fatherlesse children will better ex­presse then my pen is able to doe.

In all his duties to God and Man he was conscionable and orderly: He preferred God and Religion to the first place in his thoughts, his King and Country to the second, his family and studies he reserved to the last. As for God, he was frequent in his devotions and prayers to him, and al­most constant in reading or meditating on his holy Word, as his Divine Fancies and other parts of his Works will suffi­ciently testifie. For his Religion, he was a true sonne of the Church of England; an even Protestant, not in the least de­gree [Page]biassed to this hand of superstition, or that of schisme, though both those factions were ready to cry him down for his inclination to the contrary. His love to his King and Country in these late unhappy times of distraction, was manifest, in that he used his pen and powred out his conti­nuall prayers and tears to quench this miserable fire of dis­sention, while too many others added daily fewell unto it. And for his family, his care was very great over that, even then, when his occasions caused his absence from it. And when he was at home, his exhortations to us to continue in vertue and godly life, were so pious and frequent; his ad­monitions so grave and piercing; his reprehensions so mild and gentle, and (above all) his own example in every reli­gious and morall duty, so constant and manifest, that his equall may be desired, but can hardly be met withall.

Neither was his good example of a godly life contained only within his own family: others as well as we have (or at least might have) made good use of it. For he was not addicted to any notorious vice whatsoever: He was cour­teous and affable to all; moderate and discreet in all his actions: And though it be too frequent a fault (as we see by experience) in Gentlemen whose dispositions incline them to the study of Poetry, to be loose and debauch'd in their lives and conversations; yet was it very far from him: Their delight could not be greater in the Tavern, then his was in his Study; to which he devoted himself late and early, u­sually by three a clock in the morning. The fruits thereof are best tasted by those, who have most perused his Works, and therefore I shall be silent in that particular. For though it had been necessary in any other, to have spoken some­what of his writings; yet I hope it will not be expected from me, seeing that neither the judgement of my sex can be thought competent, nor (if it were) would the nearness of my relation to him suffer me to praise that, at commen­dations whereof from others, I have often blushed.

I shall therefore rather desire leave to speak a work or two concerning the blessed end of my dear husband, which was every way answerable to his godly life; or rather (in­deed) surpassed it. For, as gold is purified in the fire, so were [Page]all his Christian vertues more refined and remarkable du­ring the time of his sicknesse.

His patience was wouderfull, insomuch as he would con­fesse no pain, even then when all his friends perceived his disease to be mortall; but still rendred thanks to God for his especiall love to him, in taking him into his own hands to chastise, while others were exposed to the fury of their enemies, the power of pistols, and the trampling of horses.

He exprest great sorrow for his sins, and when it was told him, that his friends conceived he did thereby much harm to himselfe: he answered, They were not his friends, that would not give him leave to be penitent.

His Exhortations to his friends that came to visit him were most divine; wishing them to have a care of the ex­pence of their time, and every day to call themselves to an accompt, that so when they come to their bed of sicknesse, they might lie upon it with a rejoycing heart. And doubtlesse such an one was his: Insomuch as he thanked God, that whereas he might have justly expected, that his conscience should look him in the face like a Lyon, it rather looked upon him like a Lamb: and that God had forgiven him his sins, and that night sealed him his pardon: And many other heavenly expressions to the like effect. I might here add what blessed advice he gave to me in particular, still to trust in God, whose promise is, to provide for the Widow and Fatherlesse, &c. but this is already imprinted in my heart; and therefore I shall not need here again to insert it.

His charity was extraordinary, in freely forgiving his greatest enemies, even those who were the cause of his sick­nesse, and by consequence of his death. For, whereas a Pe­tition full of unjust aspersions, was preferred against him by eight men, (whereof he knew not any two, nor they him, save only by sight) the first news of it struck him so to the heart, that he never recovered it, but said plainly, it would be his death. And when his friends (to comfort him) told him that M ^r I. S. (the chief promoter thereof) was cal­led to an accompt for it, and would goe neer to be punish­ed; his answer was, God forbid, I seek not revenge, I freely forgive him, and the rest; only I desire to be vindicated from [Page]their unjust aspersions; especially that, [that for ought they know I may be a Papist,] whereas I never spake word to any of them in my life. Which imputation, how slanderous it was, may easily be discovered by a passage in his greatest extremity, wherein his discretion may (perhaps) be taxed by some, but his religion cannot be questioned by any. For, a very able Doctor of the Romish religion, being sent unto him by a friend, he would not take what he had prescribed, only because he was a Papist.

These were the most remarkable passages in him during his sicknesse: The rest of the time he spent in Contempla­tion of God, and meditating upon his Word; especially upon Christs sufferings, and what a benefit those have, that by faith could lay hold on him, and what vertue there was in the least drop of his precious blood: interming­ling here and there many devout prayers and ejaculati­ons; which continued with him as long as his speech; and after, as we could perceive by some imperfect expressions. At which time a friend of his exhorting him to apply him­self to finish his course here, and prepare himself for the world to come; he spake in Latin O dulcis Sal­vator mundi, sint tua ultima verba in Cruce, mea ultima verba in luce: In manus tuas Domine com­mendo spiritum meum. El quae ore meo sari non possint, ab ani­mo & corde sint à te accepta. to this effect (as I am told:) O sweet Saviour of the world, let thy last words upon the Crosse, be my last words in this world: Into thy hands Lord I commend my spirit: And what I cannot utter with my mouth, accept from my heart and soul. Which words being uttered distinctly, to the understanding of his friend, he fell again into his former Contemplations and Prayers; and so quiet­ly gave up his soul to God, the eight day of September, 1644. after he had lived two and fifty years, and lyeth bu­ried in the Parish Church of S. Leonards in Foster-lane.

Thus departed that blessed soul, whose losse I have great reason to bewaile, and many others in time will be sen­sible of. But my particular comfort is in his dying words, that God will be a Husband to the Widow: And that which may comfort others as well as me, is (what a reverend Di­vine wrote to a friend concerning his death) that our losse is gain to him, who could not live in a worse age, nor dye in a better time.

And here again, I humbly beg the Readers pardon. For [Page]I cannot expect but to be censured, by some for writing thus much, and by others for writing no more. To both which, my excuse is, my want of ability and judgment in matters of this nature. I was more averse (indeed) from medling with the Petition, then any other thing I have touched upon; lest (perhaps) it should be thought to savour a little of revenge; but God is my witnesse I had no such intention. My only aim and scope was, to fulfill the desires and commands of my dying husband: Who wished all his friends to take notice, and make it known, that as he was trained up and lived in the true Protestant Re­ligion, so in that Religion he dyed.