BE pleased to suffer me (who never yet commended any man out of the pulpit) to say a little of this M ^r William Moor, newly interred here Not in Caius Colledge, as he desired, because M ^r Dell would not suffer him to be buried by the Liturgy, which was his last request. before us, under that very stone whereon he was wont to kneel down in prayers to Almighty God.

He was a person, who had that of Solomon continually before his eyes, Eccles. 9. 10. What ever good thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might; for there is no work, nor device, nor know­ledge, nor wisdome in the grave, whither thou goest: or rather, he had the life of the Blessed Jesus in his daily meditati­on and practise. You can scarce name [Page] the good or piece of knowledge or wis­dome, wherein he was not eminent: one of the ablest that ever I met with, not onely in the knotty pieces of Divinity, Cases of conscience, and Chronologie, and all ingenuous sciences, especially Histo­ry and all kinde of Antiquity (which, if any thing, must bring the men of this age to their wits again, when all is done) but also in Anatomy, Physick, Mathematicks, and the like. Those who are the most eminent for all these now in England being of his education.

But above all I must admire his piety to God, signified in every particular that I could observe. And I think I had more the happiness of his compa­ny (and so greater opportunities to note his behaviour) of late years, then any here present, except his own family, having been with him almost every day for these seven years last past. Cardinal Bellarmin (in his second book of Dying well, and eighth chapter) is so ingenuous as to blame those Roma­nists, who begin with their Sacraments [Page] when they have done with their Phy­sick; and saith, Sacramentum conferre­tur aegrotis quando periculosè aegrotare in­cipiunt; that 'tis a very dangerous cu­stome (though it is seldome otherwise) that men send not for the Priest till the Physician hath given them over. This our friend (quite contrary to them, and such as Asa) sought to the LORD first, and then to the Physician. To the LORD, and that (after a strict exa­mination of his soul) in those two main parts of divine worship, Prayer and the Holy Eucharist. No sooner had the disease seized upon him in an extraordinary manner, but straight he spoke of the sixth chapter of S ^t Johns Gospel, and those [...] mysteria, and told me and divers others, that he was of his good friend M ^r Herbert Thorndikes minde concerning that cha­pter, viz. That it must needs be a pre­diction of the Holy Eucharist: which the first Nicene Council thought the most necessary viaticum; and after them the whole Christian world (not ex­cluding [Page] Calvin, Zanchy, and others of the Reformed) till some late novelists arose: who would perswade us that Christ had no true Church upon earth before these times. And he received the body and bloud of our Saviour with expressions of as much outward reve­rence as ever I beheld, (which several here present can witness) and doubt­less his external deportment was but a necessary consequence of his inward devotion. Which also appeared by his zeal and frequency in prayer to Al­mighty God: not omitting to humble himself in a decent [...] dedicate to that purpose (as you know the Primi­tive Christians did) through every day of his life, even when he was not able to go, but crept and was led to it: not omitting the very last day of his pil­grimage, when he could not without help move his foot over the threshold.

As he testified his reverence to God in doing, so in suffering. Though his sickness was very painfull (caused by an ulcer in his bladder) yet who ever [Page] heard him complain in that or any o­ther trouble? All that I heard of it from his mouth, was this; When one told him that he could not but be in great pain; he answered, My Saviour was in far greater pain for me. In his sickness he spent the most of his time in reading and meditating on the passi­on of Christ, desiring to throw aside other learning, and to know nothing else but Jesus Christ and him crucified: and this knowledge was his ballast kept him steady and couragious; for he never abhorred any thing more than the hu­mours of this age, simulation and dissi­mulation; so that if ever any man had a window into his heart, that all the world might know his most secret thoughts, M ^r Moor had. In these changing times wherein men pride themselves in menstrua fide & anniver­saria (as Tertullian speaks) in a reli­gion that alters as oft as the moon, or take up with the year at most (and then persecute their neighbours for not be­ing as very Protei as themselves) who [Page] dare whisper that M ^r Moor was not constant to that religion, which upon a strict rational examination he took up in his younger days? sticking close to that faith into which he was baptized, the true ancient, catholick, and Apo­stolick Church of England, whose do­ctrine is contained in the 39 Articles, the Book of Homilies, and our He was the last who read it in Caius Colledge-Chapel. LI­TURGIE, which he lookt upon as the onely probable medium to reunite the shat­ter'd pieces of decaying Christendome. In this Religion he lived, and in this he died; commend­ing his soul (in my hearing) to God with a loud voice, in those our prayers which De modo o­randi. Edit. Maire, p 115. Erasmus, and Precum. p. 302. fol. Gil­bertus Cognatus say, do sa­vour of an Apostolical spirit; and while both his hands and eyes were lifted up to heaven, his soul peaceably departed. Thus died M ^r Moor, as David, in a good old age, threescore and ten; full of days (I will not say riches and honour, but) full of [Page] that which David saith is far beyond them, peace of conscience, and joy in the holy Ghost.

Shall I tell you how he added to his true faith vertue, 2 Pet. 1. 5? as that word signifies courage and constancy in well-doing, and conforming our actions to the rule which our consci­ences approve. He would oft say, ‘That if men would generally take cou­rage, and shew themselves bare-faced (without mask or vizard) and profess what they do indeed beleeve; it were the onely way to secure themselves and all o­thers, and make those few that be facti­ously bent unable to hurt them; but that foolish fear hath always betrayed, and brought evil upon men, from the time of the Gnosticks till now.’

To this vertue he added patience, an admirable submission to all manner of Superiours, though perverse; a most meek and quiet spirit under what go­vernours (Ecclesiastical or Civil) soever. Which I note the rather, because I see some men write large books, and many [Page] disputations, to prove that the members of the old English Church are not to be suffered in any civil society: which books and disputations are (in my opi­nion) far better confuted by such lives as M ^r Moors, then by volumes.

And to patience how did he add bro­therly kindness! A true Samaritan. E­very man was his neighbour; loving to all, I cannot say to his enemies, because I never heard he had any, for he walkt so far from offence toward God and man, that he attracted the love or won­der rather, even of the froward. And though in these unhappy times diffe­rence in religion (as 'tis the nature of it) hath caused a vast difference in most mens affections, yet I cannot hear of any one man that spoke one single word against M ^r Moor; nor do I remember that I have heard him speak ill of any one man or woman; but I have heard him in general blame the men of this age for pulling down—and looking into other mens faults more then their own. He would say, that he had oft [Page] heard an apt proverb, After a good din­ner, let us sit down and BACK-BITE our neighbours: the discourse of most men now adays being nothing else. And I confess I have seen him very oft (both in sickness and health) upon the mention of schism, heresie, or sacriledge, shake his head, and profess that he would not have had the least finger in the ruin of the Church of England for a million.

But let us go to the Colledge. Ask those who were his contemporaries in Gonvile and Caius concerning him, and you shall hear them (beside all this) wonder at his contentedness, his joy in the most private condition (the most mean and toylsome employment) from first to last. Though he had as many fair opportunities for preferment offer­ed him as any man, yet he slighted them all, trampling this world under his feet: saying, that since he was but a passenger here, it was a folly not to behave himself as a traveller in an inn; a madness to set his minde on such things as there is no use of at his jour­neys [Page] end; adding, that God sent no man hither to get money.

His contemporaries will tell you, how far he was from disturbing the peace of the Society wherein he lived, from beginning or fomenting any fa­ction or sedition in the House. That he never asked any Fellow for his vote, nor politickly (as the custome is) enquired before hand what other men would do in any election, nor spoke one word for any pupil of his own either to get a scholarship or fellowship (and yet even lately he had five or six senior fellows at once in Caius Colledge his own pupils) but he went on his own road, chose that man whom he in his soul thought fit­test for the place, fall how it would; & so his vote oft stood alone, doing no man any good. And though some laughed at his singularity, he had his reward within and above, which told him that a time would come ere long, when it would be declared by strange effects, that wealth was never the greatest happiness, nor worldly policy [Page] the best counsellour, that to lie and for­swear for a good cause was no piety, and to do wickedness for the glory of God was ill worshipping him. In a word, that there would come (as sure as that God is true) a day of visitation; when we shall all be judged not by the flexible rules of our factions or interests (non est judicium Dei sicut hominum) but by the straight regularities of the Word of God, by the rules of S. Paul, and justice and charity, by the laws of the nation and our local statutes.

And thus he brought up his pupils, not choosing the richest (such as be ordinarily the tulips of the University, stay a while, onely to show themselves & see fashions) but such as were of the choicest parts though never so poor, and such as he thought he was likely to do most good upon: with whom he took more pains usually in one day then ma­ny do in a moneth, knowing that do­ing good to them he did good not one­ly to single persons, but sometimes to whole families, whole parishes, whole Counties; & he made it his business to [Page] principle them in true Religion as well as learning. And now here be pleased to behold and admire the strange bles­sing of God upon his precepts and ex­ample; though I know many scores of his pupils (some in this and some in other nations) yet I never knew any who continued not firm to those good principles which his Tutour Moor in­stilled into him (quo semel est imbuta recens-) notwithstanding all the tempta­tions of schisme and heresie, on the right and on the left, both from Rome and Amsterdam, [...], ex­cept onely one.

I should transgress the bounds (though not of your patience, yet I am sure) of the time, if I should tell you now of his almes, which are almost in­credible. Where is the poor man from whom he turned his face? or where the poor pupil that ever he turned from the Colledge for lack of money? and yet what almes he gave was in the most private manner he could devise. [...]. how communicative was he? how ready to lend any thing he had, even [Page] the choicest of his books or Manu­scripts, to any man in Town or Coun­trey that would make good use of them.

I must not stand to tell you what pains he took to collect our University Statutes (now scattered in many scarce legible Manuscripts) into one body, how he was chearfull without lightness, grave and serious without distrust, sor­rowfull for nothing but sin, delighting in nothing but doing good. And by that ye may trace his footsteps where­ever he went: 'Tis well known that he was through his whole life a diligent collectour & transcriber of the choicest Manuscripts which he could possibly purchase by love or money; All these he gave to Caius Colledge. While he was in the University library, how di­ligent he was for the publick good from first to last, what incredible pains he took there for you, and for how trifling a recompense ye all sufficiently know. And when the sharpness of his disease would not suffer him to frequent that [Page] place, he delivered to me a catalogue of all the Manuscripts in that library (ex­cept the Oriental) writ every word with his own hand; which I am to deliver in­to the publick library, as soon as it is open again.

But my strength faileth, and will not suffer me to tell you half the ex­cellent things I have heard from him, seen by him: his modesty (he could scarce moderate an Act without blushing, even when his almond tree did flourish) his temperance and sobriety in diet and ap­parrel, abating all superfluities, and even robbing himself to bestow upon the poor (remembring the causal particle for: Matt. 25. 35. For I was hungred and ye gave me meat, for I was naked and ye clothed me) his retiredness, his contentedness, his humility—you see I can but name them; nor shall I need when they are known to most of you as well as to my self: especially to that numerous company of his pupils who had the happiness of the Queen of She­ba to be perpetually at the elbow of our Solomon.

[Page] Ye who lamented him to his grave; give me leave to speak to every one of you (dear friends) particularly (as me­thought I heard him on his death-bed) in the words of the dying Romane. Non est amici defunctum vano ejulatu deflere, sed quae voluerit meminisse, quae manda­verit exequi, 'Tis not the part of a friend to bewail a dead friend with vain lamen­tation, but to remember what he advised and to perform what he commanded. There is not one of you who had any re­lation to him that were in the sad con­dition with most other Gentlemen whose follies are termed wisdome, who are applauded when they talk vainly, and are let alone when they do shame­full things: No, every mothers childe of you was as sure to meet with his por­tion of sage and sober counsel as of his diet. And (in your hearing) he oft la­mented the misery of our English Gen­try, who are commonly brought up to nothing but hawks and hounds, and know not how to bestow their time in a rainy day, and in the midst of all their [Page] plenty are in want of friends, necessary reproof, and most loving admonition.

And now when the Preacher hath done all the use that most men make of such discourses as these (or indeed of any sermons) is to pass a censure. I doubt not but some of you will say I have spoke too much, others that I have said too little of him de quo praestat nihil quàm pauca dicere. And for the first, I confess I am so far of my reverend friend D ^r Jeremy Taylers minde, as to be no friend to funeral sermons: but I know M [...] Moor was such a person, that if the D ^r himself were in my stead this day, he would say far more of him then I have done: that he was a man of whom though I had said nothing, and though he have no tombe-stone here before you, yet he cannot want a mo­nument or a remembrance while Caius Colledge stands, while we have an Uni­versity or publick- Library, of which we never before had such a custos; and I believe hereafter never shall.