THIS Chapter contains the True and Genuine Character of a Ver­tuous Woman, with relation to a Married State. The proper Offices and Employments are specify'd, and her Vertue is plac'd not only in Prayer, and Devotions, but likewise in the prudent Conduct of her Domestick Affairs; Instruction of her Chil­dren, [Page 2]and keeping much at home. These Qualifications the Wise Man exacts of the Fe­male Sex, and prefers them to Beauty, Shape, or any other outward Accomplishments. Fa­vour is deceitful, and Beauty is vain, but the Woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.

And lest any one should Object, that it's possible, after having done so many laudable Actions, no person will set a due value on them, he prevents all fears of this nature, by adding, that her own works will praise her: And let her own works praise her in the Gates.

The sole difficulty contain'd in the Words, depends upon that Phrase of being praised in the Gates. For the clearing of which, be pleas'd to observe, that in ancient times the publick Seats of Judicature were fix'd in the Gates of the City; to the end that all Pas­sengers might see Justice impartially distributed; and if any Person, either going or coming, had any just Plea against the Sentence pronounc'd, he might offer it in favour of the Party Con­demned. These Gates being publick Places where all Causes were try'd, and the common [Page 3]Transactions of the World brought in; the meaning of the Expression comes to this issue; even That a Person so Meritorious, as is repre­sented in the preceding Lines, shall have the honour of receiving publick Praise and Commen­dation. Her Praises shall not be confin'd to the single breath of her Neighbours, but proclaim'd with a general voice; her Merits shall not lie conceal'd within the walls of her own House, but flie abroad, and become the sole Discourse of the Town.

Here might be some useful Doctrines rais'd from the Text, but I fear they would be too General; besides; the Solemnity of this Occa­sion Commands me to particularize; and the Il­lustrious Vertues of the Deceas'd, to whose Me­mory we Sacrifice, Challenges from me more than the compass of these following Pages will admit of. A Person whose eminent vertues raised her beyond equality, and have now given her a propor­tionate Glory amongst the Saints above. A Person whose Death calls for general Mourning, but a tran­scendant sorrow from the good; a Person of whom the World was not worthy; In fine, a Person of whom should I speak but modestly, the time would fail me. The Theme is spacious and might well ex­cuse [Page 4]enlargements; but I shall endeavour to keep within the bounds of your patience and atten­tion. Truth shall be my Guide through the se­veral Scenes of her Character; and indeed she wants no adventitious Glosses to smooth over the History of her Life. That Tongue is to be suspected which is purely tun'd to the Ear; and Falshood, we know, delights in borrow'd Or­naments, whilst Truth appears more comely, and Triumphs in her Primitive Nakedness, and Simplicity. The Object will appear truly Glo­rious, without the advantage of false Mirrours, so that I am under no temptation of mixing the Colours to advantage, or making the Touches appear more lively, for her own Works shall praise her in the Gates. Yet this must not ex­clude our pious Officiousness, or debar us the pleasure of recounting her Vertues; it's fit they should be convey'd down to Posterity, that fu­ture Ages may admire, and commemorated at this time, that the present Age may imitate them. It is not sufficient to say that a Person was good, without amplifying upon the Character; Particulars always leave the deepest impression, and excite the Generous to emulation. But here I am at a loss where to begin, fresh Beau­ties [Page 5]crowd in and dazle us, Wonders lie disper­sed thro' the whole Series of her Life, and each Minute consisted of Actions Great and Memo­rable.

The Infancy of most Persons is deservedly pass'd over, containing little else but Simplici­ties, and innocent Pastime; and Relators are cautious of introducing them upon the Stage, lest they should sully the Actions of their ri­per years. But here even these tender Minutes must not be lost; for whilst others of her Age pursued their Childish Diversions, she was at­tentive to good Advice; whilst others trifled away their time, she would be asking Questions surprizing, and much above her Age.

She was early possess'd with an awful Reve­rence of God, and with the consequence of that, an esteem for Religion. It's true she had been excellently well Principled, as being un­der the Care and Direction of Worthy The Right Honourable Foulk Lord Brook, and his Pious Lady. Parents; and with Timothy, from a Child had been in­structed in the Holy Scriptures. But still there was something too remarkable in her at those years, to escape our acknowledgment, viz. her Religious Doubts; for she would be scrupulous even about indifferent Matters, and could not [Page 6]be prevail'd with to enter upon an Action which seem'd doubtful. This was not the ef­fect of Superstitious Fears; her Soul was ever exalted above any encroachments of that Na­ture. The truth is, she had form'd to her self a due Notion of God's infinite Goodness, and from thence made this natural Inference, That he was of purer eyes than to behold the least shadow of Iniquity, which made her so strict and cautious.

When very young, she express'd a strong desire to go to the Holy Sacrament, and would frequently entertain her self with the thoughts of that Bliss she should reap from thence. She soon became sensible of what she had promis'd in her Baptismal, Covenant, and was eager to confirm and ratifie those Engagements at the Altar. But still she suspected there was too much rashness in her Desire, and forbore till she came to maturer years. These Holy Fears were sure Prophecies of her future strictness, and her Dawn being so Glorious, no wonder that the Day proved so bright.

As she grew up, the impulse was so strong upon her, that it could be no ways resisted; and accordingly she appear'd at the Holy-Table. [Page 7]But what Conflicts did she suffer? What dif­ferent Passions strugled in her Breast? Fear left she should prove an Unworthy Receiver; Joy that she was admitted to so great an Honour, as to be made a Partaker of the Benefits accruing from the Death of her Saviour. Her Transports after Receiving were too great to be conceal'd; she profess'd there was no pleasure on this side Heaven comparable to it, and that it was the richest and most satisfactory Banquet she had ever tasted. The Joy she found, was a mighty encouragement for her to persist in that Duty, and her preparations to it were strict and Labo­rious. All her thoughts came under Correction; and as she kept Minutes of her Life, so nothing of the least importance could escape her Know­ledge. She was always free from Reserves, but before a Communion she would lay open her Soul, make the strictest Animadversions, and heighten each Trespass into a Crime; and even after the severest Scrutiny, would be self-diffident, and lay the best of her Services at the foot of the Cross. She look'd upon it as an high Indig­nity to turn her back upon the Holy Table; and where ever she found a remisness in the Celebra­tion of that Ordinance, she heartily bewail'd the [Page 8]Neglect, and was forward in promoting so im­portant a Duty.

From her Infancy she was an early Riser; and what the Ancient Philosophers enjoyn'd as necessary to the preservation of Health, she pra­ctised upon a Religious account. No sooner waking, but impatient till she was upon her Knees. She always began the Day with Praises to God for the past Nights preservation, and then hasted to her Closet to beg his protection of her the following Day, in a more humble and solemn manner.

This Retirement generally lasted from Six to Eight in the Morning; part of which time was spent in Reading the New-Testament, with An­notations upon it; and wherever she lighted on a passage applicable to her self, or fell in with relations of Great and Exemplary Men, she would pitch on them for Subjects of her ensu­ing Meditation.

She constantly Pray'd five times a Day, and how she demean'd her self in the Closet, may be easily gathered from the order and regularity of her publick Devotions. There was nothing light orsuperficial appear'd thro' the whole Series of the Action; she perfectly Wrestled with God [Page 9]for a Blessing, and the Sacrifice was purified with Fire. So observant she was of the most decent Postures in Prayer, that when there was an absolute necessity for her being excused Kneel­ing, it was with great difficulty she was brought to comply. If once upon her Knees, no business of the greatest importance could raise her before the Service was ended.

Indeed she was so entirely fix'd upon the Du­ty in hand, as not to be aware of common Di­sturbances. No sudden Visits, or fear of break­ing an Appointment could tempt her to a Neg­lect; and if any Person of the highest Rank came in at the beginning of the Service, she would in­vite them to joyn with her, and Congratulate them upon coming in so seasonable a minute. Her Zeal in this Case did not burn inwardly, but diffused it self thro' the whole Family, whose attendance she constantly required; and no ex­cuse could attone for their absence, after she had given Orders that all Business should be postpo­ned to the Service of God, or totally omitted, rather than any failure should occur in those Holy Exercises.

And here the Transition to her Fasting is very natural. She constantly Fasted once a Week, but [Page 10]would not tie her self up to a set Day, on purpose to avoid discovery. When prevented by Company, or any extraordinary Occasions, from Fasting on the Day she propos'd, the Concern was so great as to draw Tears from her eyes; and if any Bu­siness interven'd on that day she actually Fasted, she thought the Mortification lame and imper­fect.

Her Abstinence in the time of Lent is almost incredible, arriving very near to that which the Primitive Fathers call [...] the Fasts of Su­perposition, the most exquisite sort observed by the ancient Monks.

This was so far from creating impatience in her, that her Spirits were more composed in the Evening, and a double sprightliness and vi­vacity played in her Countenance, arising from Peace within, which was a continual Feast to her. Such a tender frame as hers, would have administred fear to others, and put them upon great caution in the Treatment of it; may they would have concluded such Severities impracti­cable, and sat down with the discharge of milder Duties; but she was unwilling to impose upon her self, and plead inability before an attempt.

She was resolv'd to try the utmost of her strength, believing that uncommon Supports were vouchsaf'd to those who ran the Race with Cheerfulness; of which she tasted in an eminent manner, inasmuch as she was enabled to go through those Severities without any visible decay in her Health.

The Recreations she took lay out of the com­mon Road; for she could by no means allow of those which generally pass under that plausible Name. There was too much Impertinence, in her Opinion, allied to the common Visits of the Age, to be very fond of them. Besides, the many idle words, and detracting Stories which pass interchangeably at such times, discouraged her from being frequently engaged in them. Plays were Diversions she never admired; and if she chanced to go, it was owing more to the im­portunity of her Friends, than her own In­clinations.

And to be plain, her complacency to the ge­neral humour of the Age, in this particular, was purely that Religion might not suffer any imputati­on, as if it render'd its Votaries peevish and ill-humour'd. Whenever she went, she always inform'd her self first of the Character of the Play, never [Page 12]venturing to go, except represented to her as inoffensive to Good Manners; for a profane Expression made her turn pale, and jesting with Serious Matters chilled her Blood.

Of late the Stage has been so Corrupted, the Characters so Obscene; in short, the whole Plot and Artifice of the Play so Destructive to the Great Ends of Religion, that she grew more and more averse to them. In all other Recreations she was so far from Transgressing, that she al­ways kept within the Bounds of Christian Liberty. Her sprightliest Hours had their Allay, for she qualified her Joy with Fear and Trembling; and her Diversions, to say the Truth, were Great, and Instructive.

For want of Employment, Persons of her Lofty Station are apt to run into excess of Va­nity; and not knowing how to spend their time, lie open to a thousand Temptations. Thus whilst they think themselves Privileged by their Quality to sit Idle, they insensibly fall from do­ing Nothing, to that which is worse than No­thing.

Against this Danger she was fully secur'd, by being always well employ'd; Essays, History, Morality, with the like, took up all the vacancies [Page 13]she could spare from the stricter Duties of Re­ligion. She had too fine a Tast to relish any thing mean or trifling. The Histories of our Nation she had made her own; and that Know­ledge, which would have satisfy'd a common Curiosity, did but inflame her desire of knowing more; for she pierced beyond her Native Clime, enquired into the rise and fall of remote Empires, the variety of Laws and Establishments, with the like. These were the Subjects of her En­tertainment. And there was nothing extant in our own Language, too great for her Genius to compass; for she had a wonderful quickness of apprehension, with that peculiar Blessing of a correct Judgment. Being always thus happily employed, little time remain'd for the lower sort of Diversions; neither was it possible for one of such exalted Principles to descend from those heights she possess'd; for such studies as these fix the Mind upon what is laudable and serious, and prevent wasting the time in Luxury and Fol­ly. And that Woman (as Plutarch observes in his Conjugal Precepts) who is studious of Geome­try, will never affect the wanton motions of a Dance. And she that is charmed with the sublime notions of Plato and Zenophon, will look with [Page 14]disdain upon lascivous Novel and amorous Ro­mance. Her collection of Books was very choice, and none could find admittance there but those which carry'd Use as well as Entertainment a­long with them.

This Conversation with the Dead, was as pleasant to her as with the Living, and she heartily pity'd those who complain'd of Solitude, and want of company, when they had such va­riety in their Closets; often repeating that old Axiom, That she never found more company than when she was alone.

She was free from Passion of any kind, and could command her self upon the greatest occasions, without the trouble of running over the Al­phabet. Indeed she was of so fine a Complex­ion, that no particular quality or humour had the Ascendent over her; and upon that account was not so apt to be raised on a sudden; and before it came to any dangerous height, she had time to prepare her self against it. There was such a due balance in her Temper that it kept her from unusual Transports on one hand, and mean Depressions on the other. The only thing that was able to create a changein her, was, The loss of a dear Friend or Relation: At such [Page 15]a Juncture, the tenderness and flexibility of her Soul was displayed; But these were Resent­ments which proceeded from a Principle of Na­ture, and were out of hers, as well as others power to prevent. And indeed the contrary, which is the Stoical Apathy, or rather Brutish Insensibility, extinguishes all that sociable Love which is so very necessary to the Creature, and the very Cement of human Society. Still, at the Crisis of such a Tryal which was as pain­ful to her as a sever'd Limb, She never parted with her Reason, but always conquered the Passion before it became Ʋnchristian.

Gracious and pleasant, like a Morning Sun, she broke forth upon all, as well Strangers as Familiars. There was a settled chearfulness dwelt on her Brow, which bespoke her always conten­ted, such happy Lines as expressed the Sinceri­ty of her Soul. To this was joyn'd a wond­rous Humility, easiness of access, and condescen­tion both to the Ignorance and Weakness of others, tho' she knew at the same time what was due to her Station, as well as any of her Rank; but she could not endure a servile dist­ance, considering all Christians as fellow Members of the same Body.

These mighty Gifts and Accomplishments soon made her Conspicuous, and drew not only the Eyes, but the Hearts and Affections of all People unto her: Still amidst these Applauses she maintain'd her Ground; she industriously shunn'd Popularity, and affected to live in Shades: But Alas! that was a vain Attempt; for the Beams of her Goodness soon pierc'd the Cloud which had conceal'd it, and discover'd her in the most private Recesses. There are few Persons but what are ambitious of telling the World what they know; and this Vanity is more excusable in the Female Sex, when they arrive to such distinguishing Heights: But certainly no Person that ever knew, or did so much, cared to inform the World less of it. Themistocles was wont to say, That the sweetest Musick was a Man's own Praise. She was just of the contra­ry Opinion; and nothing was more untuneable, than to hear People run out into Eulogies and Commendations of her. She thought Praise too nearly related to Flattery and Lies: and as she never admired herself, so she could not bear to be commended by another.

She often expressed a great Contempt of the World, and thought no Time so ill spent as [Page 27]that which was laid out in Dressing. Trains and Attendance were always uneasie to her: She accounted Greatness no better than Gilded Slavery, and many Servants but a civiler Sort of Guard. The Plainest Dress pleased her most, and if ever She put on any thing more Airy and Ornamental than usual, it was to avoid Singularity, and to comply with those Persons whose Commands She never dis­puted.

She was very nice in the choice of her Friends; civil to all, only the Good were dear to her; and those that had the Honour of being esteemed so, might conclude themselves happy; for (not to mention her readiness to assist them in their greatest Exigencies) in the strictest Friendship She would never omit reproving an Indecency; for She thought mutual inspection and advice to be the proper Branches of it, and was as faithful to her Friends as their own Consciences. As She never was prepossess'd against any one upon a doubtful representation, so She would not contract an intimacy upon the score of 2 or 3 plausible Actions, but would first observe the variety of their Sentiments, Turns and Affections, at different Junctures; [Page 19]and if they answered her expectation, they were Enrolled amongst the happy number of her Favourites. This made her Friendship more Valuable and Lasting: And, after she was once fix'd, it was no easy matter to displace her Esteem.

Her Charity had no Bounds; all Tasted of her Benevolence; and I dare affirm she never dismiss'd a true Object unrelieved. But she would not stay for their coming to ask a Boon: Her care and vigilance Anticipated their Re­quests, and the frequent Supplies she convey­ed by different Hands are standing Monuments of her Bounty in that kind.

She was a strict observer of the Sabbath, and never miss'd the Publick Service of the Church, unless prevented by Sickness; and even at that time the uneasiness upon her Spirits, for staying away, was so great, that without a Gracious Providence, might have increased the Malady. Her attention at Church, was always fix'd; and having the advantage of a Tenacious Memory, she could easily Command, not only the ge­neral Heads, but likewise all the material Pas­sages in a Sermon, which she committed to Short-Hand before Dinner, and afterwards digested [Page 20]more Regularly, in order to ruminate on them the succeeding Week.

Her Inclinations were very much bent to a single Life; fearing that the Incumbrances atten­dant on a Married State would engross too much of her time. But all these Jealousies vanish'd when she found so Pious and Chearful a concurrence in her Noble Lord for promoting those good Designs she had form'd to her self beforehand. And here I must not omit one thing which I have in Command to make Publick, viz. that My Lord found her Example and Perswasion of that infinite use and advantage to him in the Affairs of Religion, as to own her the happy Instrument, next under God, of reviving those good Habits which were near Dying in him thro' neglect of Improvement. This no ways depreciates the Character of that Great Man. This is no more than what Men of Rank and Eminence have confess'd before. Valerianus ow'd his Con­version to his Wife Cecilia, Sizinius to Theodora, and Adrianus was tempted to Dye a Martyer thro' the Instigation of his Wife Natolia.

Further, all that had the Honour of knowing the Deceased Saint, must confess her Power was Irresistible: And no wonder she had such an [Page 20]Influence over Him in a concern of this Na­ture, where besides the Commanding Excellency of Religion, Love on his side prepared the way, and Innumerable Charms on her's where alway ready to Second the Request.

To amplify at last upon her Duty, Love, and Honour; To tell you she was singularly Prudent in the management of her Domestick Affairs, That she was a Woman of the truest Conduct, and Studious of the Credit of her Lord, were but to lessen the Dignity of the former Characters; for no one will suppose that a Per­son who made so great a proficiency in the Sublimest parts of Religion, could possibly fail in the Subordinate Points.

Yet there is one thing more that deserves our Remembrance, viz. Her Meditations upon most of the Evangelical Duties, which I have had the Honour of perusing since her Death. They are all Lofty and Divine. The strains of them are raised so far above the Common level of Mortality, that they appear to me no less than the Raptures of expiring Saints. Whe­ther they are all of her own composure, I am not able to determime: But sure I am there is an [Page 21]accession of her Thoughts by the Style and Tenour of the writing.

In the Zenith of her Health, She would frequent­ly be talking of her Dissolution, and speak of Death as of a Familiar Friend; and I know no Parallel so exact as that of the Famous Marcella, St. Jerome's Friend, of whom the Pious Father re­ports, That she constantly led such a kind of Dying Life, that she fancy'd her self Old and Decaying before she Remembred that she was Young and Handsom; and every time she dis­robed her self, still the thoughts of shifting her Earthly Tabernacle Sprung up in her Mind. Thus the Blest Soul spent her Days. And now the Tragick part comes on. Here I could willing­ly be excused, and with Timanthes the Painter throw a Veil over the rest. But there were too many Observables in the last Minutes of her Life to lye concealed. Here Illness was sudden and surprizing, and the fierceness with which it assailed her at first, seem'd to carry Mortality along with it. However she had nothing to do but to Dye; and had the first stroke proved Fatal, she could have departed with Old Simeons Faith and Assurance. But God was pleased to respite her for some time. After she came out of her Fits, which continued for two Days, with [Page 26]little Intermission: She expressed no Impatience tho' her Tortures were excessive. No sooner had she gathered up a few Remains of strength, which were all too little to com­bat with the Distemper, but she employ'd part of them in Praises to God for the seem­ing Deliverance. The Night before her de­parture she renew'd her Petitions with such Vehemence, that nothing but immediate relief could have secured her from fainting away. After this the favourable Symptoms vanished, and we could no longer flatter our selves when the decay was so visible; yet she retained a Quick and Active sense, and as her Spirits flagg'd and deny'd her utterance, her Holy Breathings increased. A peculiar Sweetness lodged on her Countenance in the Bitterest of her Pangs, and her Face seem'd to be im­pregnated with Heavenly Light. Being made sensible of Approaching Death she discovered no change, but talk'd free and unconcerned about her Funeral. No Discomposure appear­ed in her but what the Tears and Groans of the sorrowful Attendants created; and that proceeded from a Tenderness of Soul in her, for she was intirley resigned and more pre­pared [Page 27]to depart than we were to lose her. As our Sorrows increased she endeavoured to. moderate them, and comforted us with the pos­sibility of her Living, tho' she knew it was her Gain to Dye: And indeed she was the fit­test Person to give Advice, even in those languish­ing minutes, as being more settled and composed than any about her. Her Soul was serene to the last; and no wonder, since she had this Testimony from her Conscience, That in God­ly Simplicity and Sincerity she had conversed in the World. She called for the Blessed Sa­crament some Hours before her Departure. That was always her proper Cordial; but at this juncture it revived her beyond the Richest Drops; for her Strength and Activity after receiving was Remarkably Superior to what she had possess'd some hours before, and had her Spirits continued Fresh and Vigorous to the end, had her Power been equal to her Desire, How Seraphick would the last Act of her Life have been? What lively Descriptions would she have given us of the New Jerusalem? In what Heavenly Raptures would she have given up the Ghost? But God in his infinite Wis­dom thought fit to deny us that Bliss, whilst [Page 24]she, happy Soul! possess'd it all within. A silent Joy had filled all the Channels of her Soul, and like a Deep Stream ran gently thro' her. A Joy she had which was better felt than Exprest. A Joy arising from a full Con­fidence in God. A Joy Immense and Ravish­ing; and in the middle of the Comendatory Prayer resign'd her Innocent Breath into the Hands of a Faithful Creator. Thus the bright Star Ex­pired: Thus the Glory of the Age, the best of Women, Dyed, and her Longing Soul soon took its way to the Mansions above. Thus fell the Beautious Pile, and the sine Lineaments of her Face soon lost their splendour. Thus the Temple was destroyed, and the Fair guest soon quited its abode. Yet still the good Works she hath done are left behind her: They will Praise her in the Gates and give her Immortality. They will Survive the short date of Inscriptions, and proclaim her worth beyond the reach of Talkative Tomb­stones. This can only qualify the mighty loss, whilst the contemplation of her Divine Excellencies must give us a lively Image of what she was, and present her as Living, to our view. It was not barely the descent from [...] [Page]llustrious House that could have enbalm'd her Name: Honour of it's self is but a short liv'd Meteor, which no sooner appears but Dyes, unless supported by virtuous Actions, but here was Greatness and Goodness in conjun­ction, which will make her Shine with a double Lustre. It's an easy matter to convey a Name down to Posterity; the worst as well as the best Actions have been commemo­rated; but to be talked of with pleasure and to be Numbred amongst the Just in future Ages, is the only thing that can make us covet to be Remembred. This must not tempt us to affect Vain-glory, or do good Works for Ostentation sake. In a true Piety, tho' many commendable Actions may lye concealed, yet enough will be discovered to satisfy the World that we are really better than we appear to be; and few emi­nently good have Dy'd unregarded, tho' it has been their Fate to live in the re­motest Corners. To instance no further than in this Pious Soul now resting with God, none could be more silent in their Devotions; Indeed her greatest Actions lay most retired from common inspection, yet [Page 30]all her Industry could not prevent their being known.

What remains now but to propose this great Example to your imitation? And there needs not many Motives when the Intrin­sick Charms are so inviting. Would you be admired by the Pious in your Life-time, or bewail'd in the Grave? This your good Works must procure you. Are you fond of an honourable Name after your Decease? This your good Works must Establish. In fine, Would you appear truly Glorious to Posterity? Your Goodness must create the Rays. And are not those great Inducements to be vertuous? Are all our good desires extinct? Is all our Zeal decayed? Will none of these Arguments work us up to a resemblance of these Graces, or raise in us a Spirit of Emulation? Themistocles we hear complaining, that the Trophies of Miltiades will not let him Sleep; And shall not the much greater Achivements of this Female worthy, Rouze us from our Slumber? Let us no longer trifle away our Time, but fothwith set about the good Work, and Tread in our Steps. This will furnish us with a Joy ineffable [Page 31]when we come to lye upon our Death-Beds. This will create Peace within; such a Peace which the World cannot give. The Thoughts of having done well will make our Death easy, and our Passage sure to those Eter [...]l Seats above. Our good Works will make us smell sweet in the Grave, sweet as Flowers with the Morning Dew upon them; such pleasant Odours has the [...] Saint left behind, whose loss we deplore; such as will ever Flourish and Maintain their Fragrancy. Histories shall perpetuate her Name so long as the Sun and Moon endures; and at the Resurrection of the Just her good Works shall be proclaim'd in the Gates of the New-Jerusalem.