THe ample subject of this incompetent re­lation is Doctor Tho­mas Fuller, to whose dust we do avowedly consecrate this Elogie the Doctor of FAMOUS MEMORY:

He was born at All Wincle an ob­scure Town in Northamptonshire, some five miles from Oundle in the year of our Lord 16—a place now equalled to, and vying honour with any seed-plot (in that county) of vertue, learning, and Religion; and of which hereafter to its glory [Page 2] it shall be said, That this MAN was born There.

He was the Son of Mr. Tho. Fuller, the Minister of the same Town, a man of a blameless and as private life, who spent himselfe in the dis­charge of his Pastorall office to w ^ch God had called him, without embarquing himselfe in the busie controversies of his time, that la­boured under the fatigues of most importunate puritanism and plea­ding popery.

Part of this privacy bestowed it selfe fruitfully upon the youth of the venerable Doctor, (who had lost some time under the ill menage of a raw and unskilfull School­master) so that in a little space such a proficiency was visibly seen in him, that it was a question whe­ther he owed more to his father for his birth or education; both which had so happily and so easily concurred, that he was admirably [Page 3] learned before it could be suppo­sed he had been taught; and this will seem no paradox to those who knew his felicity of memory which he owed not to the lubri­city of Art, but the certainty of Nature.

Having under this tuition past the just time of Adolescency in those puerile studies, at twelve years of age, this hopefull slip was translated to Cambridge, where he first setled in Queens-Colledge, of which a neer kinsman of his Dr.—was then President. This was a sphere wherein his relucent ver­tues and conspicuous abilities had room to exert themselves, so that he filled the eyes of that Univer­sity with a just expectation of his future lustre.

Here he successively passed the degrees of Batchelor and Master of Arts, with such generall commen­dation, and at such unusuall age, [Page 4] that such a Commencement was not within memory.

During his residence in this Col­ledge a Fellowship was vacant, for which the Doctor became Candi­date, prompted thereunto by a double plea of merit and interest, besides the desire of the whole house; but a Statute of the Col­ledge prevailing against them all, which admitted not two Fellows of the said County of Northampton, the Doctor quitted his pretensions and designation to that prefer­ment. And though he was well as­sured of a dispensation, from the strict limitation of that Statute, to be obtained for him, yet he totally declined it, as not willing to ow his rise and advancement to the courtesie of so ill a Precedent, that might usher in more immodest in­trufions upon the priviledges and laws of the Colledge.

But this gave him a fair occasion [Page 5] to transfer himselfe to Sidney Col­ledge, whither by some of his choice and learned friends, he had often been invited. He had not long been here, but he was chosen Minister of St. Bennets parish in the Town of Cambridge, in whose Church he offered the Primitie of his Ministeriall Fruits, which like Apples of Gold in pictures of Silver (sublime Divinity in the most ravishing Elegancies) attracted the audience of the University, by whose dilated commendations, he was generally known at that age at which most men do but peep into the world.

These his great sufficiences (being now but about the age of twenty three years) tendred him a Preben­dary of Salisbury, and at the same time a Fellowship in Sidney colledge. They were both eximious prefer­ments as the times then were, the estimation of either being equally [Page 6] great mutatis mutaudis; but the Doctors inclination by assed him to the more active and profitable in­cumbency, into which his inbred piety and devotion had from the first of his resolutions inducted him: Whereupon he retired from that University and betook him­self to the Priestly Function, being thereunto ordained by the right reverend Father in God the Bi­shop of Salisbury.

This being the Kings Donation, was some further reason for aban­doning his most pleasant studies and conversation in Cambridge, for that also by the Statutes of both Universities it is provided, that no person who shall have Ten pound per annum in the Kings books shall be capable of a Fellow­ship in either of them. So provi­dence was pleased to dispose of him in each of these Accademicall honorary intendments, that his [Page 7] fluent should not run silently in those streams, contribute onely to their Emanations, but with Fame discharge it selfe into the Ocean, reciprocate Honour and Desert, with the World.

Having thus lancht and being so furnished he set forth in the course of the Ministry, exchanging those delightful privacies of his Colledg­Studies (which laid the happy Foundations and beginnings of those Excellent Books, which suc­cessively teemed those productions and propagations of divine Learn­ing and Knowledge, of which more hereafter,) for the troublesome Cure of a Parish and importunate Pulpit.

That Prebend of Salisbury was a commodious step to another more profitable place, which for its vici­nity to that Cathedral, and being in the same Diocesse, did easily commend it self, without the aid [Page 8] and instance of the Patron, or o­ther inducements, to the Doctors acceptance; but yet he did not over-readily entertain the kindness of the proffer till after a serious scrutiny of himself and his Abili­ties to discharge the requisite du­ties the place called for; and after a very full and satisfactory enquiry of his Parishioners.

It was the Rectory of Broad Win­sor in Dorsetshire, a place far distan­ced from his native Country, & re­moter from his University. A Pro­phet hath no Honour in his own; and therefore it was doubled to him in another. The Accomodation both in reference to his maintenance and respect from this people was very noble, and which afforded great expedience to the Doctors o­ther labours, which were bounti­fully cherished under the tuition of his Ministry.

After some while employed here [Page 9] in the pastoral Office, the Doctor was desired by some Friends to dignifie his Desert, with the De­grees, which his Time and standing by the Rules of the University af­forded him: whereunto the Doctor out of a reverence to his Honoura­ble Cailing was well inclined, and accordingly prepared for his de­parture to Cambridge to take the Degree of Batchelour of Divi­nity.

Having taken care therefore to supply his place for the time of his absence, at his setting forth he was acquainted that 4 of his chief Pa­rishioners with his good leave, were ready to wait on him to Cambridge, to testifie their exceeding engage­ments, it being the sense and re­quest of his whole Parish; This kindnesse was so present and so re­solutely prest, that the Doctor with many thanks for that and other demonstrations of their Love to­wards [Page 10] him, gladly accepted of their Company, and with his customary innate pleasantnesse entertain­ed their time to the Journies end.

At his comming to Cambridge he was most welcomly treated and saluted by his friends and acquain­tance, and visited almost by all considerable persons of the Uni­versity and Town; especially of his Parishioners of St. Bennet: Fame and Love vying which should render him most Addresses, to the great delight and satisfaction of his fellow-Travellers and Neighbours in having a Minister who was so highly and yet no lesse deservedly honoured, but to the Trouble of the modest Doctor, who was then forced to busie his invention with Complements, to which he was most naturally averse.

At this Commencement there proceeded with him in the same [Page 11] Degree of Batchelour of Divinity three other reverend persons, all with general applause and com­mendation; and therefore to doe them no wrong must forbear to give the Deceased Doctor his par­ticular due: Onely thus much by the way may be added, that this Commencement cost the Doctor for his particular the sum of seven­score pounds, an evidence of his liberality and largenesse of mind proportionable to his other capa­city's, and yet then which nothing was lesse studied.

At his departure he was dismis­sed with as Honourable valedicti­ons, and so he returned in the same company (who had out of their own purse contributed another ad­dition of honour to that solemni­ty) to his said Rectory at Broad Winsor resolving there to spend himselfe and the time of his pil­grimage amongst his deare and lo­ving charge.

[Page 12]In the amaenity and retirements of this rurall life some perfection was given to those pieces, w ^ch soon after blest this age (an account of all which is reserved to the con­clufion of these Collections:) from this pleasant prospect he drew that excellent Piece of the Holy Land, Pisgah sight, and other Tracts rela­ting thereto; so that what was said bitterly of some Tyrants, that they made whole Countries vast soli­tudes and desarts, may be inverted to the Eulogie of this Doctor, that he in these recesses made desarts, the solitudes of Israel, the frequen­ted path and track of all ingenuous and studious persons.

But Contemplation and the immurement of his vast spirit, within the precincts of his Parish, (although both delightfull and profitable, those foraign Travels of his brain above mentioned afford­ing the One, and his pious labours [Page 13] at, home yeilding the other) grew tedious and wearisom to his active and free Genius, which was framed by nature for converse, and general Intelligence, not to be smothered in such an obscurity.

To this inclination also the un­quietness and trepidations of those times (then scared with the news of a war about Religion and refor­mation which the Scots pretended) did oversway him. He was very Tensible whither those first com­motions did tend, and that some heavy disaster did in those angry clouds which impended over the Nation, more particularly threaten the Clergy. He was then also mar­ried unto a vertuous young Gen­tlewoman, and by her had born there his eldest son now a hopefull plant in the same Colledge and U­niversity where his Father had his education. These motives concur­ring with that generall fame and [Page 14] esteem of him, drew him to the consultation of a City life, where both security, honour, and the ad­vantages of learning did demon­stratively promise the completion of his desires & intended tranquil­lity, destined already to some pub­lique workes which were then in designment.

Removing therefore to London having obtained his fair dismission from that charge in the Countrey he continued his pious endeavour of preaching in most of the voyced Pulpits of London, (being cryed up for one of the most excellent prea­chers of his age) but most usually in the Inns of Court.

He was from thence by the Ma­ster and Brotherhood of the Savoy (as well as earnestly desired and intreated by that small parish) complemented to accept of the Lecturers place; which having un­dertaken after some instance, he [...] [Page 15] did most piously and effectually discharge, witness the great conflu­ence of affected Hearers from di­stant congregations, insomuch that his own Cure were (in a sense) ex­communicated from the Church, unless their timous diligence kept pace with their devotion; the Do­ctor affording them no more time for their extraordinaries on the Lords day, then what he allowed his habituated abstinence on all the rest. He had in his narrow Chappel two Audiences, one without the pale, the other within; the windows of that little Church, and the Sex­tonry so crowded, as if Bees had swarmed to his mellifluous dis­course.

He continued here to the great satisfaction of his people, and the neighbouring Nobility & Gentry, till our unhappy unnaturall warres had made a dismall progress through the whole Nation: labou­ring [Page 16] all that while in private and in publique to beget a right un­derstanding among all men of the Kings most righteous cause, which through seduction and popular fury was generally maligned. His ex­hortations to peace and obedience were his constant subjects in the Church, (all his Sermons were such Liturgies) while his secular daies were spent in vigorously promo­ting the Kings affairs either by a sudden reconciliation or potent assistance.

To this end on the Anniversary day of his late Majesties inaugura­tion, which was the—day of March 1642. hee preached at St. Peters Westminster on this Text, 2 Sam. 19. 30. Yea let him take all, so that my Lord the King return in peace. A Theam so distastfull to the ring­leaders of the Rebellion (who had on purpose so scandalously driven him from his Court & Parliament, [Page 17] that he might never with any pleasure thinke of returning to them till he had vindicated his Honour upon the abettors of those Tumults) and so well and loyally enforc'd by him, that drew not on­ly a suspicion from the moderate mislead party of Parliament, but an absolute odium on him from the Grandees and Principals in the Re­bellion.

There were few or none of the Orthodox Clergy then remaining within their Lines of Communi­cation (new invented Limits for the Cities old Liberties) some be­ing dead in restraint or through more harsh and cruel dealing, the rest outed and silenced; so that their inspection & spyall was con­fined almost to the Doctors Pulpit as to publique Assemblies; where neverthelesse he desisted not nor altered from his main course, the Doctrine of Allegiance, till [Page 18] such time as the Covenant was ob­truded upon his Conscience, and must through his perswasions be likewise prest upon his people.

Several false rumours and cavils there are about his carriage and opinion touching that sacrile­gious thing by persons, who were distanced as far from the knowledge of those passages, as fortunately from being concerned and engaged within the reach of that snare. 'Twas not onely easy but most prudential, for other Ec­clesiastical persons to quit their Livings, who were out of the gripes and clutches of those ravenous Re­formists, in order to keep their con­science inviolable; but it was diffi­culty enough of it self for the Do­ctor to escape and get out of that place, where the next preferment would have been a Dungeon.

Some velitations, transient dis­courses he made about that fre­quent [Page 19] and thumb'd subject of the reformation, the rather to suspend the busie censures of the Parlia­ment and their party; wherein, though he seemed to comply, (but as far as the Rule and Example would allow) and indulge the misapprehension of those men, yet these his charitable disguises could not obscure him from the severe animadversions of several Mini­sters Eminent in those Reforming Times, particularly Mr. Saltmarsh. The Contest betwixt them is so known in print, that it will be needlesse to trouble the Reader with it here. Onely thus much by digression in honour of this vene­rable Doctor: Mr. Saltmarsh being long since dead, He hath in his Book of the Worthies General of England (of which hereafter) given him a most Honourable mention, and assigned him the place of his Birth, Education and Burial, regi­string [Page 20] him for an Ornament of them all: so Resplendent and Durable was the Doctors Charity. I may not omit one thing, that the Doctor in recording and relating of the Death of the said Mr. Salt­marsh, doth passionately reflect on the shortnesse of his life and the acutenesse of that feaver which so violently ended him, reducing and applying it to the uncertainty of his own state, & we now unhappily see those curious presages of his Pen verified and accomplished in his most immature and sudden decease.

To return to our Subject, in the beginning of the year 1643. the said Covenant was generally pres­sed, and a very great persecution soon after followed it. The Doctor was settled in the love and affecti­ons of his own Parish, besides other obligations to his numerous Fol­lowers; so that the Covenant then [Page 21] tendred might seem like the bright side of that cloud (promising sere­nity and prosperity to him, as was infinuated to the Doctor by many great Parliamentarians) which showred down after a little re­motenesse, such a black horrible tempest upon the Clergy, nay the Church and three Kingdomes. But the good Doctor could not bow down his knee to that Baal-Berith, nor for any worldly considerations (enough whereof invited him even to fall down and worship, men of his great parts being infinitly acceptable to them) lend so much as an Ear to their serpentine charms of Religion and Reformation.

Since therefore he could not continue with his Cure without his Conscience, and every day threatned the imposition of that illegal Oath, he resolved to betake himself to Gods providence, and [Page 22] to put himselfe directly under it, waving all indirect means and Advantages whatsoever towards his security. In order thereunto, in April 1643. he deserted the City of London, and privately conveyed himselfe to Oxford, to the no lesse sudden amazement of the Faction here, who yet upon recollection quickly found their mistake, then to the unexpected content and joy of the Loyal party there, who had every day Jobs Messengers of the plundering, ruines and imprison­ments of Orthodox Divines.

Oxford was then the common refuge and shelter of such perse­cuted persons, so that it never was nor is like to be a more Learned University, (one Breast being dry­ed up by Cromwels visitation, the Milk resorted to the other) nor did ever Letters and Arms so well consist together, it being an accom­plisht Academy of Both▪

[Page 23]Among the multitude of those new comers like the clean beasts to the Ark, when the waters en­creased, the KING (the most excellent intelligent Prince of the abilities of his Clergy) vouchsafed the Doctor the Honour of preach­ing before him in St: Maries, where with the like moderation he laid open the blessings of an accommo­dation, as being too too sensible and that so recently of the viru­lency and impotent rage, though potent arms, of the disloyal Londo­ners, which as the Doctor then Christianly thought, could not better be allayed then by a fair condiscention in matters of Church Reformation.

It seems some particulars in that Sermon gave offence to some at Court, as if the good Doctor were a Luke-warm Royalist, and did not throughly own his Majesties Cause; which ill grounded conceit, [Page 24] though he were well satisfied in that his plea for Composure) did not a little trouble him: to ex­plain and free himself, an opportu­nity was wanting both of Press and Pulpit, and the hurry of the War gave not his prejudiced Hearers leisure for his particular vindica­tion. He resolved therefore stre­nuously to evince his faithful Loy­alty to the King by another kind of Argument, by appearing in the Kings Armies, to be a Preacher Militant to his Souldiers:

This Resolution Providence was pleased to favour by an Ho­nourable Friends recommendation of the Doctor to my Lord Hopton, who was then to chuse a Chaplain. This noble Lord, though as cou­ragious and expert a Captain, and successful withal, as the King had any, was never averse to an amica­ble closure of the War upon fair and honourable terms, and did [Page 25] therefore well approve of the Doctor, and his desires and pursuit after peace. The good Doctor was likewise infinitely contented in his Attendance on such an Excellent Personage, whose conspicuous and noted Loyalty could not but de­rive the same reputation to his re­tainers, especially one so near his conscience as his Chaplain, and so wipe off that stain, which the mi­stakes of those Men had cast on him. In this entendment God was pleased to succeed the Doctor and give him victory (proper to the Camp he followed) against this first attempt on his Honour.

During the Campania and while the Army continued in the Field, he performed the duty of his holy Function, with as much solemn Piety and Devotion, as he used before in places consecrated to Gods Worship; and according to the form used and appointed by [Page 26] the Church of ENGLAND: In all Emergencies and present En­terprizes, using no other prayers, then what the care of the Fathers of the Church, had in those mise­rable exigences newly directed. To this he added constant preach­ing on the Lords day, animating in his Sermons the Souldiers to fight couragiously and to demean themselves worthy of that glori­ous Cause with which God had honoured them.

With the progress of the War he marched ftom place to place, and where ever there happened for the better accōmodation of the Army any reasonable stay, he allotted it with great satisfaction to his belo­ved studies. Those cessations and intermissions, begot in him the most intentnesse and sollicitous in­dustry of mind, which as he never used to much recreation or diver­sion in times of peace, which [Page 27] might loose and relasch a well dis­ciplin'd spirit; so neither did the horrour and rigidnesse of the war stiffen him in such a stupidity (which generally possest all Lear­ned Men) or else distract him, but that in such lucid intervals, he would seriously and fixedly come to himself and his designed bu­sinesse.

Indeed his businesse and study then, was a kind of Errantry, ha­ving proposed to himself a more exact Collection of the Worthies General of England, in which others had waded before, but he resolved to go through. In what place soe­vet therefore he came, of remark especially, he spent frequently most of his time in views and re­searches of their Antiquities and Church-Monuments, insinuating himself into the acquaintance (which frequently ended in a la­sting friendship) of the learnedst [Page 28] and gravest persons residing with­in the place, thereby to informe himself fully of those things he thought worthy the commenda­tion of his labours. It is an incre­dible thing to think what a nume­rous correspondence the Doctor maintained and enjoyed by this means.

Nor did the good Doctor ever refuse to light his Candle in inve­stigating Truth from the meanest persons discovery. He would en­dure contentedly an hours or more impertinence from any aged Church-officer, or other superan­nuated people for the gleaning of two lines to his purpose. And though his spirit was quick and nimble, and all the faculties of his mind ready and answerable to that activity of dispatch, yet in these inquests he would stay and attend those circular rambles til they came to a poynt; so resolute [Page 29] was he bent to the sifting out of abstruse Antiquity▪ Nor did he ever dismisse any such feeble Adjutators or Helpers (as he plea­sed to style them) without giving them money and chearful thanks besides.

After the Fight at Cheriton Down my Lord Hopton drew down with his Army and Artillery to Basing, and so marched that way to Ox­ford, intending to take up Winter Quarters as soon as he had consul­ted with the King, and left the Doctor in that as couragiously manned, as well fortified House, where he had scarce begun to re­duce his marching Observations into Form and Method, but Sir William Waller having taken in Winchester, came to besiege the Doctors Sanctuary. This no way amated or terrified him, but onely the noyse of the Canon playing from the Enemies Leagure inter­rupted [Page 30] the prosecution of dige­sting his Notes, which trouble he recompenced to them by an im­portunate spiriting of the Defen­dants in their Sallies; which they followed so close and so bravely▪ suffering the Besiegers scarce to eat or sleep, that Sir William was compelled to raise his Siege and march away, leaving above a thou­sand men slain behind him; and the DOCTOR the pleasure of seeing that strong Effort of Rebel­lion in some way by his means re­pulsed and defeated, and in being free to proceed in his wonted in­tendments.

What time the Doctor continu­ed here is very uncertain; sure we may be he was not an unemploy'd or an unacceptable Guest to that Loyal Garrison, and that as Noble and Honourable Marquesse the Proprietary of the Place; the De­molishing of which princely Edi­fice [Page 31] then standing in spight of their potent Armes, yet afterwards through the Fortune of War being fallen into their hands and razed by their more impotent revenge, he doth heartily lament in his Worthies Generall, preferring it while it flourished, for the chiefest Fabrick in Hantshire. This his kindness to the place of his Refuge though no doubt true and deser­ved enough, yet no questionlesse was indeared in him, by some more peculiar obliging regards and respects he found during his abode there; though indeed his worth could want and misse them no where.

The next removal of the Doctor, was to his charge in the Army, and his particular duty of Chaplain to his said Lord. The War was then at its Zenith, hotter and more di­lated, raging every where both in this and the two neighbouring [Page 32] Kingdoms, so that there was no shelter or retirement, which it had not invaded and intruded into by unruly Garrisons, while the Coun­try became a devasted Solitude, so that the Doctors Designe could proceed no where.

But that fatal War hasting to a sad and miserable end, success not answering the merit of the Cause, the Kings Field-forces being every where engaged, and part of the Loyal Army driven into Cornwall, under the Command of that skil­ful Captain, the good Doctor took refuge betimes in Exeter, having taken his Conge and Dismission of his beloved Lord.

Here again he resumed his Task of the aforesaid Worthies, not minding the cloud impending on that place, nor no way intermit­ting the Duty of his Calling, preaching constantly to those tru­ly Loyal Citizens: It is a supernu­merary [Page 33] labour to acquaint the Reader with how great satisfaction and content, that alwayes and every where being annexed to his meanest endeavours.

During his stay in Exeter, the Queen having been delivered of her last Burden, (saving her sor­rows and distresses) by the Birth of the Princesse Henrietta, the Learned Doctor was preferred to be the Infant-Ladies Chaplain; Her Royal Fathers intendment being, as he had educated the rest of his Princely, Issue to have her brought up in the Prote­stant Religion: To that end, the good Doctor in regard of his soundnesse and sincerity in that profession, and eminent famous Assertion of it, was designed to at­tend on her, to instill unto her tender mind (if God had pleased to continue her with safety within the limits of this Kingdome) the [Page 34] and Belief of the English [Catholique] Church. This for the present was altogether Hono­rary and pointed only at his merit, which indeed was as much as the iniquity of those times would af­ford to any the most deserving Personages. But yet the King to signifie his approbation of the Do­ctors excellent worth by a farther Testimony of it, soon afterwards gave him a Patent for his Presen­tation to the Town of Dorchester in Dorsetshire, a Living valued to be worth 400 l. per Annum.

This Royal and bounteous Fa­vour, the Doctor modestly decli­ned, continuing his attendance on the Princesse till the Rendition of the City of Exeter to the Par­liament; Notwithstanding the Doctor accepted not of that other Preferment of Dorchester; for that London was in his eye, as the most necessary and expedient [Page 35] place for finishing his aforesaid Book, to which place the Expi­ration of the War promised some kind of Accesse, which since it could not otherwise be, the Doctor did gladly submit to.

For General Fairfax, having by Treaty reduced and disbanded my Lord Hoptons Army in Cornwall, came directly back to besiege Exe­ter, which Garrison upon conside­ration that no relief could be expected, and that Resistance would but defer the resetling of the King and Kingdome, (pressed also by the Enemy as a cogent ar­gument for their Rendition,) ha­ving very Honourable and com­prehensive Articles, both for their Conscience and Estates, delivered up the City to the Parliament Forces.

In these Articles the Doctor was included, and by the benefit of them, was without molestation [Page 36] or hindrance permitted to come to the City of London, where he presently recommenced his labo­rious Enterprize, and by the ad­ditional helps of Books, the con­fluence and resort of Learned men his acquaintance to their sleecing Tyrannical Courts and Commit­tees newly Erected, made such a progresse, that from thence he could take a fair prospect of his whole work.

Upon his first Arrival he came to his own (the Parish of Savoy) but they received him not, the face of things was so altered; many of his parishioners dead, others remo­ved, all of them generally so o­verawed by an Imperious Rabbi of both Factions, Presbytery and Independency, one Mr. Bond for­merly a Preacher at Exeter, then made by the pretended Powers Master of the Savoy. (The Doctor and he having countermarched, [Page 37] and changed ground, wherein different seed was sown of loyall Obedience and treasonable Sedi­tion) that the Doctor might have said of his parish what a Learned Historian said in another greater Case, Parochia in parochia quaerenda erat.

But a Living was not the De­sign of the good Doctor, who knew how incompatible the Times and his Doctrine must needs be. However as oft as he had private opportunities he ceased not to assert the purity of the Church of England, bewailing the sad con­dition, into which the grievous abominable sins of the Nation had so far plunged it as to make it more miserable by bearing so many re­proaches and calumnies grounded onely upon its calamity. But some glimmering Hopes of a set­tlement and understanding be­twixt the King and the pretended [Page 38] Houses appearing; the pious Do­ctor betook himself to earnest prayers and petitions to God, that he would please to succeed that blessed work, doing that privately as a Christian, which he might not publiquely doe as a Subject, most fervently imploring, in those Fa­milies where his person and devo­tions were alike acceptable, the blessing of Restauration on this afflicted Church, and its defence­lesse Defendor the King.

That desired Affaire went on slowly and uncertainly, but so did not the Doctors Book, for having recommended the first to the Al­mighty wisedome, he stood not still expecting the issue, but addrest himself to his study, affording no time but the leisure of his Meals, which was short, to the hearing of News, with which the minds and mouths of men were then full em­ployed by the changeablenesse of [Page 39] the Army, who plaid fast and loose with the King and Parliament, till in conclusion they destroyed both.

Then indeed such an amaze­ment struck the Loyal pious Do­ctor, when he first heard of that execrable Design intended against the Kings person, and saw the vil­lany proceed so uncontroulably, that he not onely surceased but resolved to abandon that lucklesse work (as he was then pleased to call it.) For what shall I write said he of the Worthies of England, when this Horrid Act, will bring such an infamy upon the whole Nation as will ever cloud and darken all its former, and suppresse its future rising glories?

But when through the seared impiety of those men, that parri­cide was perpetrated, the good Doctor deserted not his study alone but forsook himself too, not [Page 40] caring for or regarding his con­cerns (though the Doctor was none of the most providential Husband, by having store before­hand:) untill such time as his prayers, tears and fasting having better acquainted him with that sad dispensation, he began to re­vive from that dead pensivenesse to which he had so long addicted himself.

He therefore now again renew­ed his former study, setting about it with unwearied diligence. A­bout this time also it happened that the Rectory of Waltham Abby being vacant, and in the disposal of the Right Honourable Earl of Car­lile, since deceased, he voluntarily and desirously conferred it on the Doctor, and together made him his Chaplain, both which he very piously and profitably performed, being highly beloved by that Noble LORD, and other Gen­tlemen [Page 41] and Inhabitants of the Parish.

About this time also many of the Orthodox Clergy began to appear again in the Pulpits of Lon­don through the zeal of some right worthy Citizens, who hungred after the true and sincere Word, from which they had so long been restrained; among the Chiefe of whom was our good Doctor, being settled Lecturer for a time at St. Clements lane neer Lumbard-street, where he preached every Wednes­day in the afternoon, to a very numerous and Christian Audience; and shortly after from thence he was removed to St. Brides in Fleet­street in the same quality of Lectu­rer, the day being changed to Thursday, where he preached with the same efficacy and successe.

The Doctor having continued some 12 years a Widdower, the War finding him so, had the better [Page 42] relisht the losse of his first Wife, by how much the freer it rendred him of care and trouble for her in those tumultuous times; so as by degrees it had almost setled in him a perswasion of keeping himselfe in that state. But now an honou­rable and advantagious Match presenting it self, and being re­commended to him by the desires of his noble Friends, he consented to the Motion, taking to wife one of the Sisters of the right Honou­rable the Viscount Baltingtasse; by whom he hath issue one onely Son now six years old, a very hopeful Youth; having had by his former wife another Son of the age of 21 years or thereabouts, now a hope­ful Student in Cambridge.

In the year 1655 when the usur­ping Protector had published an Interdict against Ecclesiasticall persons, Schoolmasters and others, who had adhered to his late sacred [Page 43] Majesty or assisted the present; whereby they were prohibited to perform any Ministerial Office, teach School, &c. upon several pains and forfeitures, the good Doctor forbore not to preach as he did before. The convincing power either of his Doctrine or his worth defending and keeping him out of the hands of that unreasonable Man.

This unchristian barbarous cru­elty of that Tryal sorely afflicted the good Doctor in his first appre­hensions of it, though after a little consulration and the encourage­ment of Friends, and the strong perswasions of his own conscience he came to a resolution to doe his duty as a Minister of Christ, and leave the issue to God. But he did not onely look upon this prohibi­tion, in general as a severe punish­ment inflicted upon the Nation, by removing their Teachers into [Page 44] Gorners, nay remote corners of the world if they disobey'd that Edict; but in particular (at first view of it) as some punishment or infliction on himself, as if God had refused him and laid him aside as not fit to serve him; and this he referred to his former remisnesse in the dis­charge of that high Function whereunto he was separated and called.

And now did he superabun­dantly exercise that grace of cha­rity to all persons distrest and ruined by this sad occasion; what his own small Estate could not do, he helped out by exhorting and perswading all men of his acquain­tance or Congregation, (for so was the Church of England reduced, even in that to the form of that Schisme that ruined it) or select Auditory; so that what by his powerfull Example and as strong perswasions, he did minister effe­ctually [Page 45] to their RELIEF.

Not to omit one particular cha­ritable office of this Doctor to the same kind of Sufferers: from the expiration of the War, he con­stantly retained one that had been a Captain in the Royal Army, and whose fortunes and condition could neither keep him according to that degree, nor sustain or re­lieve him in any other. This the good Doctor did out of a Loyall and Honourable sense of such persons sufferings and contempts far unworthy their Cause or their Desert: and did therefore allow him 10 l. yearly besides dyet and lodging till the Captain died.

About this time the Doctor be­came Chaplain to the right Ho­nourable the Lord Berkley, having quitted Waltham, in lieu whereof this Lord presented him with the Living of Cranford—in Mid­dlesex (where his Body is now [Page 46] deposited:) how infinitely, well be­loved he was there needs not be added to those accumulations of respect he found every where, for fear especially of resuscitating the recent grief of those Parishioners for his late lamented losse.

He was a little before wooed also to accept of a Living at—in Essex, which for some respects he owed the Patron and to employ that rich Talent with which God had so bountifully trusted him, he undertook, and piously there con­tinued his Labours till his Settle­ment at London.

In the Interim came out a Book of Dr. Heylins, called Animadver­sions upon Mr. Fuller' s Ecclesiastical History, wherein somewhat tartly (though with that judicious learn­ing for which that Doctor is most deservedly honoured) he tax [...] that Book of some Errors, &c. To this the Doctor replyed by a Book [Page 47] styled The Appeal of injured Inno­cence to the learned and ingenious Reader, being a very modest but a most rational and polite defence to the aforesaid exceptions against that elaborate Piece. The Dispute and Controversie was soon ended, the Oyl the Doctor bestowed on this labour, being poured into the fresh Wound of this Quarrel did so asswage the heat of the Contest, that it was. soon healed into a per­fect amicable closure and mutual endearment.

Indeed the grace that was super­eminent in the good Doctor was Charity, both in giving and for­giving; as he had laboured during our civil broils after peace, so when that could not through our sins be attained, did he with the same earnestnesse presse the Duty of Love, especially among Bre­thren of the same afflicted and too much already divided Church; [Page 48] and therefore was most exemplary in keeping the band of it himself, though in a matter that most near­ly concerned his credit and fame, the chiefest worldly Thing he studied and intended.

This constrained retrospection of the Doctors to secure and assist the far advanced strength of his foremost works, did a little retard and impede the arriere of his la­bours, which consisted of the flower and choice of all his Abili­ties and wherein his WORTHIES were placed; howbeit this proved but a Halt, to those encumbrances and difficulties, which he had all along before met, and soon set that Book on foot again.

This was the last Remora to it▪ the Doctor going on a smooth swift pace while all things else were retrograde in the Kingdome through the tyrannical plots and stratagems of the Usurper Cromwell [Page 49] so as toward the beginning of that mirabilis Annus 1660. he had it ready for the Press, to which assoon as the wonders of his Majesties Re­stitution was over, (in the thank­ful contemplation whereof the good Doctor was so piously fixt as nothing else might presume to in­trude upon his raised gladded spi­rits) he brought it, taking the au­spicia of that happy and famous juncture of time for the Com­mencement of this Everlasting Monument of himself as well, as all other English Noble deceased Per­sons.

A while before to compleat the Doctor's contentment as to his Mi­nistry also, he was invited to his former Lecturers place at the Savoy, who even from his departure had suffered under an insufficient or disloyal and malicious Clergy; and therefore stood in need of an able and dutiful Son of the Church [Page 50] to reduce and lead them in the right way and the old paths; For this People (his ancient flock) the Doctor had alwayes a more espe­cial respect and kindnesse, which was the rather heightned in him out of a compassion to their state and condition. Nor did he more tenderly affect them then they universally respect him, receiving him (as indeed he was) as an Angel of God, sent to minister unto them heavenly things, in exchange whereof they freely gave him their hearts and hands.

The Doctor through the injury and iniquity of the times had for neer 20 years been barred of all Profits of his Prebendariship of Sa­lisbury (of which before,) but upon the return of the King, those Re­venues and Possessions so sacrilegi­ously alienated from the Church, reverted also to their rightful Pro­prietors. This accession and ad­ditional [Page 51] Help did very much en­courage the Doctor in the carrying on of his Book, which being large would require an able Purse to go through with, and he was very sol­licitous, (often presaging he should not live to see it finished though satisfied of his present healthy con­stitution) to have it done out of hand; to which purpose part of the Money accrewing to him from his Salisbury Prebendariship was designed.

He therefore hastned his Book with all Expedition, and whereas he had intended to continue it but till 1659. and had therefore writ it in such language as those times of Usurpation (during the most part of which it was compiled) would suffer such a subject & concerning Matter to be drest in; he now re­viewed it over, giving Truth, and his own most excellent Phansie their proper becoming Ornaments, [Page 52] Scope and Clearnesse. But neither the elevation of the Usurpers, nor the depression of the Royallists, and the Vice-versa of it did ever incline or sway him to additions, interca­lations or expunctions of persons, whom he hath recommended to the world for Worthies; no such thing as a Pym or Protector whom the mad world cryed up for Brave: Drops of compassionate tears they did force from him, but his resolute Inke was not to be stained by their black actions. A Pen full of such, would serve to blot out the whole Roll of Fame.

This constancy of the Doctors to his first model and main of his design doth most evidently argue his firm perswasion and belief of the reviving of the Royall Cause, since he wrote the most part du­ring those improbable times of any Restitutions and he had very [Page 53] ill consulted his own advantage if he had not well consulted the Oracles of God.

As the last felicity of this Do­ctors life, he was made Chaplain in Extraordinary to his Majesty, be­ing also in a well grounded expe­ctation of some present further advancement; but here Death stept in and drew the Curtain be­twixt him, and his succeeding Ec­clesiastical Dignities:

And would a Curtain were drawn here too, that the sad re­mainder of this Task were enjoy­ned to the last Trump, when we shall know likewise wherefore God was pleased to take him from us, and be satisfied with his provi­dence: Pity the envious should find such an imperfection in him as Death; pity the grateful should mourn so long and so much for the losse of him, and his most in­comparable Gifts and Endow­ments, [Page 54] without any redress—but infandos Fullere jubes renovare Do­lores—we must continue our dis­course though upon a discontinued subject, and write the much de­plored Death of Doctor Fuller▪

Having in August returned from Salisbury, whither he went to settle and Let his Revenue as Prebend of that Deanery, he returned to his Charge at London. It was a very sickly time in the Country, the distempers most rife were Feavorish Agues, the disease of which our Do­ctor dyed; and therefore it was judged, that he had brought the infection of his disease thence, which broke out violently upon him soon after his return, (Doctor Nicholas the reverend Dean of Pauls dying neer the same time upon his coming from the same place.) For being defired to preach a Marriage Sermon on Sunday the twelfth of [Page 55] August for a Kinsman of his, who was to be wedded the day after; the good Doctor lovingly under­took it; but on that Sunday din­ner felt himself very much indis­posed, complaining of a dizinesse in his Head: whereupon his Son intreated him that he would go and lie down on bed, and forbear preaching that Afternoon, inform­ing him how dangerous those symptomes were; but the Doctor would not be perswaded, but to Church he would go and perform his promise to his Friend; saying, he had gone up often into the Pulpit sick but alwayes came well down again, and he hoped he should doe as well now through Gods strengthning grace.

Being in the Pulpit, he found himself very ill, so that he was apprehensive of the danger; and therefore before his Prayer addrest himself thus to his Congregation. [Page 56] ‘I find my self very ill, but I am resolved by the grace of God to preach this Sermon to you here though it be my last.’ A sad presage and more sadly veri­fied.

He proceeded in his Prayer and Sermon very perfectly till in the middle, (never using himself to Notes, other then the beginning word of each Head or Division) he began to falter, but not so much out but that he quickly recollect­ed himself, and very pertinently concluded. After he had a while sate down, he was not able to rise again, but was fain to be led down the Pulpit stairs by two men into the Reading place, He had pro­mised also to Christen a Child (of a very good friend of his) then in the Church, and the Parent did earnestly importune him to do it, and the good Doctor was as willing as he desiring; but the Doctor's son [Page 57] shewing him the extreme danger there was of his Father, he desisted from his request.

Much adoe there was to per­swade the Doctor to go home in a Sedan, he saying still he should be well by and by, and would go a­long with them; but at last finding himself worse and worse he yield­ed to go but not to his old Lodg­ings (which were convenient for him in the Savoy) but to his new One in Covent-garden. Being come thither they had him to bed, and presently sent for Doctor Scarbo­rough, but he being in the Coun­try Doctor Charlton came, who with the exactest skill and care possible, addrest himself to the re­covery of the Good Doctor. The Disease was judged by him to be a violent malignant Feavour, such as then raged every where, and was better known by the name of the new Disease, which like a [Page 58] Plague had swept away a multi­tude of people throughout the Kingdome. Therefore Phlebotomy was directed, and some Twenty Ounces of blood taken from him, and yet neverthelesse the Parox­ysmes continued, having totally bereft the Doctor of all sense, so much as to give any the least ac­count of his Condition; the Phy­sicians Art being at a losse, and not able to advise any further, against the unsuperable violence and force of the distemper.

Yet in this Sad and Oppressed Condition, some comfortable signes and assurances were given by the Good Doctor, by his fre­quent lifting up his Hands and his Eyes; which Devotion ended in the folding of his Armes, and Sighes, fetcht questionlesse from a perfect Contrition for this Life▪ and from an earnest desire after, and hope of that to come.

[Page 59] Tuesday Aust. 14. the good Doctor gave sad symptoms of a prevailing disease, and Dr. Charlton despair'd of his recovery, his Feaver being so fierce and pertinacious and which resisted all Remedies. As was said almost from the very first decum­bency, which was neer as soon as he was ill, his senses were seised and surprised, with little or no remission of the distemper, which caused him to talk sometimes, but of nothing more frequently then his Books, calling for Pen and Ink, and telling his sorrowful Atten­dants that by and by, he should be well, and would write it out— &c. But on Wednesday noon the pre­sages of a dislodging soul were ap­parent in him; for Nature being overpowered, the Vitals burnt up by such a continual Heat; his lamp of life began to decay, his Feaver and strength abating toge­ther, so that it pleased God to re­store [Page 60] to him the use of the faculties of his soul, which he very devoutly and thankfully imployed, in a Christian preparation for Death, earnestly imploring the prayers of some of his reverend Brethren with him, who then were sorrow­ful Visitors of him in these his last Agonies, which accordingly was performed, the good Doctor with­all the intentnesse of piety joy­ning with them, and recommen­ding himself with all humble thankfulnesse and submission to Gods welcome Providence. Nay so highly was he affected with Gods pleasure concerning him, that he could not endure any per­son to weep or cry, but would earnesty desire them to refrain, highly extolling and preferring his Condition, as a translation to a blessed eternity.

Nor would he therefore endure to hear any thing of the world or [Page 61] worldly matters, for the settling and disposition whereof he had before made no provision, and was desired by some to give some present direction, for the better accommodating the several con­cerns of his Family: but the Do­ctor totally rejected any thoughts of those matters, having his mind engaged and prepossest with things of ravishing and transcen­dent Excellencies. Even his be­loved Bock aforesaid the darling of his soul, was totally neglected, not a syllable dropping from him in reference to the perfecting and finishing thereof, which he had now brought so neer to the Birth. Nothing but Heaven and the per­fections thereof, the consummati­ons of Grace in Glory, must fill up the room of his capacious soul, which now was flitting and ready to take wing to those mansions of blisse.

[Page 62]For on Thursday morning Aug. 16 1661: this reverend and painful Mi­nister of Christ Jesus, having fini­shed his Course, and run the Race that was set before him and fought a good Fight, breath'd out his wearied spirit into the hands of his Redeemer to his own everlasting Fruition and Consolation, but to the irreparable losse and very ex­ceeding sorrow of all men, to whom Religion, Piety, Vertue, and super-eminent Learning were ever acceptable. And what ever the present envious world may think, unprejudiced Posterity will undoubtedly erect him a shrine, and pay him those justa of Ho­nour and Fame, which to his Me­mory most duly and rightly do belong.

After he had laid a while dead, an eruption of blood burst from his Temples, which was conje­ctured to have been long settled [Page 63] there, through too much study, in the methodizing and complea­ting those various Pieces in his WORTHIES GENERALL, of which he was prophetically affraid he should never live to see the finishing.

He was buried at the desire and at the Costs of the right Honoura­ble his Noble Patron the Lord Berkley at his Parish of Cranford in Middlesex, in the Chancel of the said Church, and attended thither by at least Two hundred of his Brethren of the Ministry, such a solemn Assembly being searce to be parallel'd, where the reverend Dean of Rochester Dr. Hardy preached his Funeral Ser­mon; being a very elegant, and extraordinary patheticall deplo­ration of so great a losse, which hath not yet (though it is ho­ped and much desired may) passe the Presse; to which Learned Piece [Page 64] with all humble submission be re­ferred the Praises and Commenda­tions of this Deceased DOCTOR, being thereby so excellently well transmitted to his Everlasting Rest.

[Page 65]Though we have now brought this Venerable Doctor to his repo­sitory, and laid him in his silent Grave: yet there remaine some further offices due to his yet speak­ing Vertues and Graces. The smooth and faire Track whereof could not be so well insisted on in the foregoing considerations of him, as in Via, and that so salebrose and difficult by the Unevennesse and Asperity of the times he lived in: but doe now orderly lead us without any diversion, as he is in Glory, to the pursuit of his Fame and Memory.

In tendency whereunto it is re­quisite, to Enliven that Pourtraite of him prefixed to this Manuall, with some of those natural Graces which were unexpressible in him by the Pencill; withall to shew what a convenient Habitation learning and vertue had chosen, in [Page 66] which nothing could be complain­ed of and faulted, but that they took it for so short a Term.

He was of Stature somewhat Tall, exceeding the meane, with a proportionable bigness to become it, but no way inclining to Corpu­lency: of an exact Straightnesse of the whole Body, and a perfect Symmetry in every part thereof, He was of a Sanguine constitution, which beautified his Face with a pleasant Ruddinesse, but of so Grave and serious an aspect, that it Awed and Discountenanced the smiling Attracts of that complexi­on. His Head Adorned with a comely Light. - Coloured Haire, which was so, by Nature exactly Curled (an Ornament enough of it self in this Age to Denominate a handsome person, and wherefore all Skill and Art is used) but not suffered to overgrow to any length unseeming his modesty and Pro­fession.

[Page 67]His Gate and Walking was very upright and graceful, becoming his well shapen Bulke: approaching something near to that we terme Majesticall; but that the Doctor was so well known to be void of any affectation or pride. Nay so Regardlesfe was he of himselfe in his Garb and Rayment, in which no doubt his Vanity would have appeared, as well as in his stately pace: that it was with some trou­ble to himselfe, to be either Neat or Decent; it matter'd not for the outside, while he thought him­self never too Curious and Nice in the Dresses of his mind.

Very Carelesse also he was to seeming inurbanity in the modes of Courtship and demeanour, de­porting himself much according to the old English Guise, which for its ease and simplicity suited very well with the Doctor, whose time was designed for more Elaborate [Page 68] businesse: and whose MOTTO might have been sincerity.

As inobservant he was of per­sons, unlesse businesse with them; or his concerns pointed them out and adverted him; seeing and discerning were two things: often in several places, hath he met with Gentlemen of his nearest and greatest Acquaintance, at a full rencounter and stop, whom he hath endeavoured to passe by, not knowing, that is to say, not minding of them, till rectifyed and recalled by their familiar com­pellations.

This will not (it may be presu­med) and justly cannot be impu­ted unto any indisposednesse and unaptnesse of his Nature, which was so far from Rude and untract­able, that it may be confidently averred, he was the most compla­cent person in the Nation, as his Converse and Writings, with [Page 69] such a freedome of Discourse and quick Jocundity of style, do suffi­ciently evince.

He was a perfect walking Lib­rary, and those that would finde delight in him must turn him; he was to be diverted from his pre­sent purpose with some urgency: and when once Unfixed and Un­bent, his mind freed from the in­cumbency of his Study; no Man could be more agreeable to Civil and Serious mirth, which limits his most heightned Fancy never transgressed.

He had the happinesse of a very Honourable, and that very nume­rous acquaintance, so that he was no way undisciplined in the Arts of Civility; yet he continued semper idem, which constancy made him alwaies acceptable to them.

At his Diet he was very sparing and temperate, but yet he allowed [Page 70] himself the repasts and refreshings of two Meals a day: but no lover of Danties, or the Inventions of Cookery: solid meats better fitting his strength of Constitution; but from drink very much abstemious, which questionlesse was the cause of that uninterrupted Health he enjoyed till this his First and Last sicknesse: of which Felicity as he himself was partly the cause of by his exactnesse in eating and drink­ing, so did he the more dread the sudden infliction of any Disease, or other violence of Nature, fear­ing this his care might amount to a presumption, in the Eyes of the greas Disposer of all things, and so it pleased GOD it should happen.

But his great abstinence of all was from Sleep, and strange it was that one of such a Fleshly and san­guine composition, could over­watch so many heavy propense [Page 71] inclinations to Rest. For this in some sort he was beholden to his care in Diet aforesaid, (the full Vapours of a repletion in the Sto­mack ascending to the Brain, cau­sing that usual Drowsinesse we see in many) but most especially to his continual custome, use, and pract­ise, which had so subdued his Na­ture, that it was wholy Governed by his Active and Industrious mind.

And yet this is a further won­der: he did scarcely allow himself, from his First Degree in the Uni­versity any Recreation or Easie Exercise, no not so much as walk­ing, but very Rare and Seldome; and that not upon his own choice, but as being compelled by friend­ly, yet, Forcible Invitations; till such time as the War posted him from place to place, and after that his constant attendance on the Presse in the Edition of his Books: [Page 72] when was a question, which went the fastest, his Head or his Feet: so that in effect he was a very stranger, if not an Enemy to all pleasure.

Riding was the most pleasant, be­cause his necessary convenience; the Doctors occasions, especially his last work, requiring Travel, to which he had so accustomed him­self: so that this Diversion, (like Princes Banquets only to be lookt upon by them, not tasted of) was rather made such then enjoyed by him.

So that if there were any Feli­city or Delight, which he can be truly said to have had: it was ei­ther in his Relations or in his Works. As to his Relations, cer­tainly, no man was more a tender, more indulgent a Husband and a Father: his Conjugal Love in both matches being equally blest with the same Issue, kept a constant [Page 73] Tenour in both Marriages, which he so improved, that the Har­mony of his Affections still'd all Discord, and Charmed the noyse of passion.

Towards the Education of his Children, he was exceeding care­full, allowing them any thing con­ducing to that end, beyond the present measure of his estate; wich its well hoped will be returned to the Memory of so good a Father, in their early imitation of him in all those good Qualities and Litera­ture, to which they have now such an Hereditary clayme.

As to his Books, which we usu­ally call the Issue of the Brain, he was more then Fond, totally aban­doning and forsaking all things to follow them. And yet if Cor­rection and Severity (so this may be allowed the gravity of the Sub­ject) be also the signes of Love: a stricter and more carefull hand [Page 74] was never used. True it is they did not grow up without some er­rours, like the Tares: nor can the most refined pieces of any of his Antagonists boast of perfection. He that goes an unknown aud beaten Track in a Dubious way, though he may have good directi­ons, yet if in the journey he chance to stray, cannot well be blamed; they have perchance plowed with his Heifer, and been beholden to those Authorities (for their Ex­ceptions) which he first gave light to.

To his Neighbours and Friends he behaved himselfe with that chearfulnesse and plainnesse of Af­fection and respect, as deservedly gained him their Highest esteeme [...] from the meanest to the highest he omitted nothing what to him be­longed in his station, either in a familiar correspondency, or neces­sary Visits: never suffering intrea­ties [Page 75] of that which either was his Duty, or in his power to perform. The quickness of his apprehension helped by a Good Nature, pre­sently sugested unto him (without putting them to the trouble of an innuendo) what their severall Af­fairs required, in which he would spare no paynes: insomuch that it was a piece of Absolute Prudence to rely upon his Advice and Assi­stance. In a word, to his Superi­ours he was Dutifully respectfull without Ceremony or Officious­nesse; to his equalls he was Dis­creetly respectful; without neglect or unsociableness, and to his Infe­riours, (whom indeed he judged Christianly none to be) civilly res­pectfull without Pride or Disdain.

But all these so eminent ver­tues, and so sublimed in him were but as foyles to those excel­lent gifts wherewith God had en­dued his intellectuals. He had a [Page 76] memory of that vast compre­hensiveness, tha he is deservedly known for the first inventer of that Noble Art, whereof having left be­hind him no Rules, or directions▪ save, onely what fell from him in discours, no further account can be given, but a relation of some very rare experiments of it made by him.

He undertook once in passing to and fro from Temple-bar to the furthest Conduit in Cheapside, at his return again to tell every Signe as they stood in order on both sides of the way, repeating them either backward or forward, as they should chufe, which he exactly did, not missing or misplacing one, to the admiration of those that heard him.

The like also would he doe in words of different Languages, and of hard and difficult prolation, to any number whatsoever: but [Page 77] that which was most strange, and very rare in him, was his way of writing, which something like the [...]hineses, was from the top of the page to the bottom: the manner thus. He would write near the Margin the first words of every Line down to the Foot of the Pa­per, then would be begining at the head againe, fill up every one of these Lines, which without any interlineations or spaces but with the full and equal length, would so adjust the sense and matter, and so aptly Connex and Conjoyn the ends and beginnings of the said Lines, that he could not do it bet­ter, as he hath said, if he had writ all out in a Continuation.

The Treasury of this Happy Memory was a very great Advan­tage to his Preaching. but being assisted with as Rich invention, and extraordinary reading, did ab­solutely compleat him for the [Page 78] Pulpit. His great stores both of Schoole and case Divinity, both of History and Philosophy, of Arts and Tongues, his Converse in the Scriptures, the Fathers and Hu­mane Writings had so abundantly furnished him, that without the other additaments he had been very eminent among his function. Now all so happily met together; such a Constellation could portend no lesse then some wonder of men, who should be Famous in his Ge­neration.

Not to omit to this purpose (however to the first intuition it may seem to the Reverend and Graver Divines a precipitancy, and a Venturous Rashnesse in any Man with such unprovidednesse to step into the Pulpit) that this Ve­nerable Doctor, upon some sudden Emergent occasions, upon two hours warning, and upon a subject of his friends Choice, which was [Page 79] Knotty and very Difficult, hath performed the Task enjoyned him with much Accuratenesse; such his Art of Method, besides that his understanding was strangely ope­ned, for the unlocking and open­ing of Scriptures, which he would do very Genuinely and Evidently, and then Embellish his explicati­on with curious variety of expres­sion.

For his ordinary manner of teaching, it was in some kind dif­ferent from the usuall Preachers method of most Ministers in those times; for he seldome made any excursions into the handling of common places, or drew his sub­ject matter out at length, by any prolixely continued discourse: But the maine frame of his pub­lique SERMONS, if not wholy, consisted (after some briefe and genuine resolution of the Context and Explication of the Termes, [Page 80] where need required, of Notes and Observations with much variety and great dexterity drawn imme­diately from the Text, and natu­rally without constraint, issuing or flowing either from the maine body, or from the several parts of it, with some useful Applications annexed thereunto; which though either of them iong insisted upon, yet were wont wirh that vivacity to be propounded and pressed by him, as well might, and oft did pierce deep into the Hearts of his Hearers, and not only rectifie and clear their Judgements, but have a powerful work also upon their Affections.

Nor was it his manner to quote many Scriptures, finding it trou­blesome to himselfe, and sup­posing it would be so to his Audi­tors also; besides deeming it the lesse needfull, in regard that his observations being grounded im­mediately [Page 81] on the Scripture he han­dled, & by necessary consequence thence deduced, seemed to re­ceive proof sufficient from it.

A Constant form of prayer he used, as in his Family, so in his publique Ministry; onely varying or adding, upon speciall occa­sions, as occurrences intervening required, because not only hesita­tion (which the Good Doctor for all his strength of Memory, and invention, was afraid of before so awful a presence as the Majesty of Heaven) was in prayer more offensive then other discourse; but because such excursions in that Duty, in the Extempore way, were become the Idol of the Mul­titude.

In his mixt Contemplations, read these words; Let such new Practi­ses as are to be brought into our Church, be for a time Candidates and Probationers on their good [Page 82] behaviour, to see how the temper of people will fit them, and they fadge with it, hefore they be pub­liquely enjoyned.

Let them be like Saint Paul's Deacons, 1 Tim. 3. first be pro­ved, then be used, if found blame­lesse. I cannot therefore but commend the Discretion of such Statesmen, who knowing the di­rectory to be but a stranger, and considering the great inclination the Generality of our Nation had to the Common-Prayer, made their Temporary Act to stand in force but for three years.

He could as well declare his mind and errand, and of all others likewise, with as much plainnesse, clearnesse, and (which is more) reverence, as any of those, who cryed up the Spirit, and their own way in opposition to the Laws and the Judgement of Antiquity; so to take the people with their new [Page 83] Fangled words and licentious ea­sinesse of discoursing with GOD Almighty, whose Attributes they squared to their Petitions, that it be not said, Wills.

As he was an Enemy to the in­ventions of men, obtruded upon the Blessed Spirit in that irreve­rend and profane manner of pray­ing and revelation; so was he like­wise on the other side a professed and avowed adversary to the Masse and Traditions, which cau­sed him no little Slander and Ob­loquie. But the Spirit of this pi­ous Doctor was exceedingly stirred in him against all Popish Insinua­tors; because he was too sensible that through the mad zeale of the Vulgar, whom they had by Jesu­itical practises inflamed, the House of God in these Kingdomes was set in combustion.

Therefore with much Prudence, Courage and Boldnesse, did he [Page 84] every where in his Books, as oc­casion offered, Unmasque the de­ceits and designes, resist and curb the pride; convince and lay open the errors of the Church of Rome; though he never wrote any thing particularly by way of Contro­versie against it, because as he said there was no end of it; and more then sufficient had already been wrote; if any ingenuity had been in the adherents of that Sea, to have submitted to Truth.

Nor was there ever any of that Religion, who were so hardy, as to Challenge or Tax the Doctor but Obliquely, for any thing wherewith he had charged them, either of Apostacy, Heresie, or ma­nifest Idolatry; their abuse of Antiquity in their Rasures and Additions, which did very often occurr to him in most of his books: from which they were sure to hear of them to the purpose. It [Page 85] much rejoyced the Roman Party, when that misunderstanding hap­ned betwixt Doctor Heylin and himself, about his Ecclesiastical Hi­story, though they caught no fish in those Troubled Waters; while they tossed of their proud billowes forward and backward, the Pro­testant Cause was safely Ancho­red and Moared between them.

And as he never had occasion to engage in any Polemical discourse with any of that Party; so in these miserable bandyings of our late unhappy times, did he alwaies refrain from stickling in any side, though it was sufficiently known how firmly grounded and addict to the true Protestant Religion; in opposition to the innovations of Presbytery, and the Schisme of In­dependency, against whom also he had a zeale, but allayed with a greater compassion, then to the Papist, distinguishing betwixt the [Page 86] Seducers and the Seduced: whom not withstanding he did very se­verely deal withal in his writings; one instance whereof take in his mixt Contemp. I am sad that I may add with too much truth, that one man will at last be divided in himself, distracted often betwixt many Opinions; that what is reported of Tostatus lying on his Death Bed. In multitudine contro­versiarum non habuit quod crederet, amongst the Multitude of perswa­sions, through which he had pas­sed, he knew not where to cast Anchor, and fix himself at Last. So that he may be said to have been a Right-Handed Enemy to the stubborn Romanist, and a Left Handed one to the cunning Sectary.

He was wont to call those con­troversies concerning Episcopacy, and the new invented Arguments against the Church of England, [Page 87] with the Answers and Refutation thereof, [...] things of a daies Life and of no permanency; the Church being built upon a Rock, as no stormes could shake or move it, so needed it not any Defences of Art or Learning: Being of the same mind with Sir Henry Wootton, Disputandi pruritus, Scabies Eccle­siae.

He was wholy conversant dū ­ring the Broiles and Dissentions of the Clergy, in the thoughts and considerations of that Text: Let your Moderation be known to all men, on which place he once Preach­ed a while before his Majesties Restitution to a very great Audi­tory; little imagining the subse­quent words, for the Lord is at hand, were so near the fulfilling in the merciful Visitations of GOD towards these Miserable Na­tions.

In this he was the same still, but [Page 88] more sollicitous in the Glimme­ring of that happy Revolution: when he plainly saw how indis­pensably necessary, the mutuall condiscentions of all parties, were to the establishment & consolida­ting of Peace. (Mixt Contempla­tion, to this purpose againe) Peace in our Land, like St. Paul at Athens, betwixt two Sects of Philosophers, is now like to be Encountred with two such opposite Parties: such as are for the Liberties of a Common wealth, and such as are for an absolute Mo­narchy in the sull length thereof. But I hope neither of them both are so considerable in their number, Parts and Influences on the People; but that the Moderate Party Advocates for Peace, will prevaile for the settling thereof. Ibidem. The Episcopall Party doth desire and expect that the Presbyterian should remit of his Ri­gidnesse, in order to an expedient be­tween them; the Presbyterians re­quire, [Page 89] that the Episcopall side abate of their Authority to advance an Acco­modation. But some on both sides are so wedded to their willfulnesse, stand so stiffe on their Judgements, are so hot and high in their Passions, they will not part with the least Punc­tilio in their Opinions and Practises: such Mens judgements cannot pretend to the exactnesse of the Gibeonites, Judg. 20. 16. that they hit the Mark of an hairs bredth, and faile not: yet will they not abate an Hairs bredth in order to Unity; they will take all, but tender nothing: make motions with their Mouthes, but none with their Feet for Peace, not stirring a step towards it—Oh that we could see some Proffers and Performances of Condiscention on either side, and then let others who remaine obstinate, be branded with PEREZ, Gen. 38. 19. the Breach be upon them.

Thus the Good Doctors bent and resolutions, were for a faire [Page 90] and mutual complyance, out of a tender Jealousie of this Divided Church: seeing other Men resol­ved, indeed, into an obstinate per­sistance and adherence to their Opinions, who would rather rashly cut the Gordian knot of Union and Concord, to fullfil the doubt­ful Oracles of their own Judge­ment, then leasurly and with pati­ence endeavour the Untying of it, which would set the Church of God at perfect Liberty, and re­lease it from the Violence of preju­diced and captiv'd Beason.

How much this lay upon his Spirit, being the Benjamin of his Love above all other Duties and Necessities in a Christian Conver­sation, or Government, may seem further tedious to relate; but because it is so Genuine a Traict of his Elegant Pen, and so like him: it is hoped that this Excellent fea­ture Copied here, in this Rude [Page 91] Transcript of him, may be of de­light (amidst the Masse and Un­digestednesse of these Collections) to the curious Reader—In my Fathers time there was a Fellow of Trinity Colledge in Cambridge, a Native of Carleton in Leicestershire: where the people through some occult cause, are troubled with a Wharling in their Throats, so that they cannot plainly pronounce the Letter R. This Schollar be­ing conscious of his infirmity, made a Latine Oration of the usual ex­pected length, without an R. therein: and yet did he not only select words fit for his easie pro­nuntiation, but also as pure and expressive for signification: to shew that men might speak with­out being beholden to the Dogs Letter—Our English Pulpits for these last Eighteen years have had in them too much caninal anger vented by snapping and snarling [Page 92] Spirits on both sides. But if you Bite and Devour one another, saith the Apostle, Gal. 5. 15. take heed ye be not Devoured one of another—Think not that our Sermons must be silent if not satyrical, as if Di­vinity did not afford smooth sub­jects enough to be seasonably in­sisted on in this Juncture of Time; let us try our skill, whither we cannot Preach without any Dog Letter, or Biting Word; the Art is half Learned by intending, and wholy by serious endeavouring of it— I am sure that such soft Ser­mons will be more easie for the tongue of the Preacher in pronouncing them; lesse grating to the Eares of Pious Peo­ple that hear them: and most edifi­ing to the Heart of both Speaker and Hearer—Again and for all—Oh may the State be pleased so farre to reflect on this Isaac, as to settle the inheritance on him. Let Protestant Religion be onely coun­tenanced [Page 93] by Law: be owned and acknowledged for the received Religion of the Nation.—As for other Sects the Sons of Keturah, we grudge not that Gifts be be­stowed on them: Let them have a Toleration (and that I assure you is a great gift indeed) and be per­mitted peaceably, but privately to enjoy their Consciences, both in Opinions and Practises: such Favour may safely, not to say ought justly be afforded unto them so long as they continue peacea­bly in our Israel, and not disturb the State.

This is the rather inserted, both for the cau [...]elousnesse of the Expres­sion he used, and which those times required: & by which discreet and amicable way, our Differences and Breaches were likeliest to be made up; the Disguises of words to the undeceiving of a misled people into the right way of their Felicity▪ [Page 94] who had all along been driven with Speeches and such like Par­liament Oratory, being the facilest Method of introducing that Peace which by the same Arts was Vi­olated. Storms begin from, and end in Calmes; the gentle breath­ings of soft and temperate Spirits commencing the outrages of other mens violent passions, and terminating and stopping their Fury.

This was a Charitable, and also a Reasonable and political Designe of the Doctor, very well applyed in the Crisis of that Distemper: whose acute pains, in the stripping of those people of their Illegall possessions and purchases, (though in time they might and would Naturally and Centrally returne to their just Owners) were to be Alleviated and Eased by some healing Balsome: not to be Lan­ced and Exasperated by the sharp [Page 95] and keen incisions of invectives and Exprobations; those Tumors and Swellings of Usurped Estates being better to be laid by Leni­tives and Suppling Oyles, then to be eaten away by Corrosives, or Cut off by cruel instruments.

This Policy, more eminent in Illustrious persons (though not the Charity of the Good Doctor) GOD succeeded in that juncture of Time, by amusing the most considerable persons, as well as the generality of the engaged Re­bellious Faction and party, into a supinenesse, or (which was the greater work of providence, that doth commonly go by a Method) confident relyance on the Kings Grace and Kindnesse. Those who would not trust his Blessed Father, though under confirma­tion of his Royal Seal, and Word, to be further strengthned by their own Authority in Parliament, were [Page 96] quiet and contented in the onely bare expectation, what his Royal Sonne would promise them.

But the Doctors Charity as be­fore, though so extensive, was far over-reached by that Liberty of Conscience, which, interest and self-will, and the Pride of Schisme, stretcht beyond all convenient or reasonable Limits: his condes­centions, to such as went by the name of Tender Christians, signi­fying no more then some Acts of Grace and Pardon lately passed: So that all the good the Doctor did in that respect, was to himself the benefit of that Love and Cha­rity being returned and multiplied on him to his Everlasting comfort.

But what the measure of his Charity could not fullfill, was made up in his Piety and constant Intercession: that they might prove such, as he in his best thoughts had wished them; He [Page 97] was most earnest in this duty of Prayer, and his often Accesses to that Mercy Seate, had made it a place of acquaintance and free re­ception. As his Study importu­ned him at very unreasonable Hours, so it opportuned his Devo­tion, in the early and late Sacrifi­ces, which he indispensably and firstly offered to the God of Heaven: a phrase for its comprehensiveness of the Divine Majesty, in the Glo­ry and perfection of it above all other his Creatures, very Familiar and usuall with the Doctor, by way of Emphasis, or Reverend in­stance.

If it may passe here without any Rigid Adversion; a very excel­lent passage of the Doctors (in the beginning of the Anarchy, under a Commonwealth) would seek admit­tance, having relation to this Du­ty in hand. Soon after the Kings Death he Preached in a Church [Page 98] near London, and a Person then in great power, now Levelled with his Fellowes, was present at the Sermon; In his Prayer before which▪ he said— God in his due Time settle our Nation on the true Foundation thereof. The then Great Man demanded of him, what he meant by the true Foundation? he Answered, he was no Lawyer, nor Statesmen, and therefore skill in such matters could not be ex­pected from him. But being pres­sed further to explain himselfe, whether thereby he did not intend the King, Lords and Commons, he answered, that— It was a part of his Prayer to GOD who had more knowledge then he ignornce in all things; that he knew what was the True Foundation; and so remit­ted the Factious Querist to Gods Wisedome and Goodness▪

This was a kind of his experi­ments in Prayer, which were many [Page 99] and very observable; GOD often answering his desires in kind, and that immediately when he was in some distresses; and Gods providence in taking care and providing for him in his whole course of Life, wrought in him a firme resolution to depend upon him, in what Condition so ever he should be; and he found that providence to continue in that Tenour, to his last end. Indeed he was wholy possest with a holy Fear of, and relyance in GOD, was conscionable in his private Duties, and in sanctifying the Sab­bath▪ being much offended at its Prophanation by disorderly Men, and that both in reference to the Glory of GOD, and the scandal brought on the Church of England, as if it allowed, (as some have im­pudently affirmed) such wicked Licentiousnesse. For his own par­ticular, very few Sundaies there [Page 100] were in the year in which he Preached not twice; besides the duties performed in his own house, or in his attendance on those No­ble persons, to whom successively he was Chaplain.

So that if he had not been help­ed by a more then Officious Me­mory, which devoured all the Books he read, and digested them to easie nutriment, that supplyed all the parts and the whole body of his Learning, for his service and furtherance of his Labours; it had been impossible, but that the Duties he performed as a Divine, must have hindred and justled out those his happy productions as a most Compleat Historian; which study, being tyed to the Se­ries and Catenation of Time and Truth, could ill brook, or breake through those Avocations, though no doubt it thrived the better under the kindly influence of his Devotion.

[Page 101]It will make it also the lesse wonder, why a Man of so Great merit, and such▪ conspicuous worth, snould never arrive to any eminent Honour, and Dignity, or Church Revenue, save that of Prebend in Salisbury, being also of competent Age, to become the Gravity of such preferments: For he could not afford to seek great matters for himself, who designed his All, for the publique good and the concerns of his precious Soule: Questionlesse he could not have wanted Friends to his advance­ment, if he would have pursued such ends, who would have been as great furtherers of himselfe out of a particular affection, (which is alwaies ambitious of laying such obligations upon Vertue) to his person, as they had assisted him in his works and Labours.

He was reward and recompence enough to himself, and for his fame [Page 102] and Glory certainly he computed it the best way, tis the Jewel that graces the Ring, not so contrary. High places are levelled in death, and crumble into dust, leaving no impression of those that possessed them, and are onely retrievable to posterity by some excellent pour­traits of their nobler part; wherein it will on all hands be confest, the Doctor hath absolutely drawn himself beyond the excellentest counterfeit of Art, and which shall outlive all addition of monument, and outflourish the pomp of the lasting'st sepulchrall glory.

But had the worthy Doctor but some longer while survived, to the fruition of that quiet and settle­ment of the Church, of which by Gods goodnesse and favour, we have so full a prospect, and that the crowd of suiters for Ecclesia­stical promotions, had left throng­ing and importuning their great [Page 103] friends to the stifling and smothe­ring of modest merit, it may be presumed the Royal bounty would favourably have reflected on and respected that worth of the Do­ctor (which was so little set by and regarded of himself in his conten­ted obscurity) by a convenient pla­cing and raising of that light to some higher Orb from whence he should have dilated and dispenced his salutiferous rayes and influ­ences:

Some little time after his death his course would have come to have preached before his Majesty, for which the Doctor made pre­parations, and that most probably would have proved a fit opportu­nity of notifying himself to the King; whose most judicious and exact observation the remarques of the Doctors learned preaching would have happily suted. This honour was designed him before [Page 104] by a Right Noble Lord, in whose retinue as Chaplain he went over to the Hague, at the reduction of his Majesty, into these his Kingdoms. But the hast and dispatch which that great Affair required in the necessity of the Kings presence here, afforded him not the effect of that Honourable intendment. But what he was disappointed of here, is fully attained by his hap­py appearance before the King of Kings, to praise and magnifie him, and to sing Halelujahs for ever.

So ADIEV to that Glory of the Doctor, which is incommuni­cable with the World; and Ave and all Prosperity be to those his re­mains, which he hath to the Gene­ral advantage of Learning and Piety most Liberally imparted.

Too Customary were it, to re­cite [Page 105] the several kinds and sorts of Honourable Epithets, w ^ch his equal Readers have fixt on him; but this under Favour, may be assigned pe­culiarly to him, that no man per­formed any thing of such difficul­ty as his undertakings, with that Delight and Profit, which were as the Gemelli and Twins of his hard Labour, and superfaetations of wit, not distinguishable but by the thred of his own Art, which clued men into their several and distinct▪ appartiments.

And so impertinent it will be to engage further in a particular ac­count of his Books, whose sure and perpetual Duration needs not the Minutes of this Biography, especially that his ultimate piece, and partly Posthumous, (his often mentioned Book, the Worthies Ge­nerall of England) whose designe was drawn by Eternity; com­mencing [Page 106] from their (before) un­known Originalls, and leading in­to an Ocean of New Discoveries. And may some happy, as hardy Pen at­tempt the Continuation.