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 to Donne. A sickly wife and a growing family imply cares which must have haunted Donne, himself 'neurotic' and often in bad health, even when he buried himself in his books, or was over head and ears in controversies with learned Jesuits. His prospects depended entirely upon his power of attracting patrons: and (taking for granted all proper apologies about the manners of the times) the story is not altogether attractive. Donne flattered with a will. The great Duchess of Bedford was praised by other poets, such as Jonson and Daniel, and, we will hope, deserved it. Donne was certainly not last in the race for adequate hyperboles. To commend oneself to the successful courtiers in the days of James I. was a process which involved some trial of self-respect. Lord Carlisle, the best of the race, was apparently a real friend; but when we find some declaring that he lives upon the bounty of the now infamous Somerset; and when, after Somerset's fall, he shows his courtier's instinct by hanging on to Buckingham, the weakness becomes unpleasant. Happily, the charge that he wrote a certain repulsive document in support of Somerset has been fully disproved. But with all excuses, enough remains to show that Donne was not above