worst of all, their mifcarriage: especially, a very infirm and tedious old age is very undefirable; for who would defire to live long uneafy to himself, and troublesome to others? It is time for us to be willing to die, when we cannot live with the good-will even of our friends; when those who ought to love us beft, think much that we live fo long, and can hardly forbear to give us broad figns that they are weary of our company. In fuch a cafe, a man would almost be contented to die out of civility; and not chuse to make any long stay, where he fees that his company is not acceptable. If we think we can be welcome to a better place, and to a more delightful fociety, why fhould we defire to thruft ourselves any longer upon an ill-natured world; upon those who have much ado to refrain from telling us, that our room is better than our company? Some indeed have a very happy and vigorous old age, and the taper of life burns clear in them to the last. Their understandings are good, their memories and fenfes tolérable, their humour pleasant, and their converfation acceptable, and their relations kind and refpectful to them. But this is a rare felicity, and which feldom happens but to those who have lived wifely and virtuously, and, by a religious and regular courfe of life, have preferved fome of their best fpirits to the laft; and have not, by vice and extravagance, drawn off life to the dregs, and left nothing to be enjoyed but infirmities and ill humours, guilt and repentance: but, on the contrary, have prudently laid up fome confiderable comforts and fupports for themselves against this gloomy day; having ftored their minds with wisdom and knowledge, and taken care to fecure to themselves the comfortable reflexions of an ufeful and well-fpent life, and the favour and loving-kindness of God, which is better than life itself. But, generally, the extremities of old age are very peevish and querulous, and a declining and falling back to the weak and helpless condition of infancy and childhood and yet lefs care is commonly taken to pleafe aged perfons, and less kindness fhewed to them, (unless it be in expectation of receiving greater from them), than to children; because these are cherished in hopes, the others in despair, of their growing better. VOL. II. : F SQ So that, if God fee it good, it is not defirable to live to try nature, and the kindness and good-will of our relations, to the utmost. Nay, there is reafon enough why we should be well contented to die in any age of our life. If we are young, we have tafted the best of it; if in our middle age, we have not only enjoyed all that is defirable of life, but almoft all that is tolerable; if we are old, we are come to the dregs of it, and do but fee the fame things over and over again, and continually with lefs pleasure. Efpecially if we confider the happiness from which we are all this while detained. This life is but our infancy and childhood, in comparison of the manly pleasures and employments of the other state. And why fhould we defire to be always children; and to linger here below, to play the fools yet a little longer? In this fense that high expreffion of the poet is true: -Dii celant homines, ut vivere durent, "The gods conceal from men the sweetness of dying, 66 to make them patient and contented to live." This life is wholly in order to the other. Do but make fure to live well, and there is no need of living long. To the purpose of preparation for another world, the best life is the longeft. Some live a great pace, and, by continual diligence and industry in ferving God and doing good, do really dispatch more of the business of life in a few years, than others do in a whole age; who go fuch a fauntering pace towards heaven, as if they were in no hafte to get thither. But, if we were always prepared, we should rejoice at the profpect of our end, as those who have been long toffed at fea are overjoyed at the fight of land. He I have now done with my text; but have another fubject to fpeak of, that excellent man in whofe place I now ftand, whom we all knew, and whom all that knew him well did highly esteem and reverence. was born in Shropshire, of a worthy and ancient family, the 11th of March 1609; was the fixth fon of his father; and, being bred up to learning, and very capable of it, was fent to the university of Cambridge, and planted there there in Emanuel college; where he was chofen fellow; and was an excellent tutor and inftructor of youth; and bred up many perfons of quality, and others, who afterwards proved useful and eminent; as many perhaps as any tutor of that time. About the age of four or five and thirty he was made Provost of King's college; where he was a moft vigilant and prudent governor, a great encourager of learning and good order; and, by his careful and wife management of the estate of the college, brought it into a very flourishing condition, and left it fo. It cannot be denied, nor am I much concerned to diffemble it, that here he poffeffed another man's place, who, by the iniquity of the times, was wrongfully ejected. I mean Dr. Collins, the famous and learned Divinity-Profeffor of that univerfity. During whose life, (and he lived many years after), by the free confent of the college, there were two fhares out of the common dividend allotted to the Provost; one whereof was conftantly paid to Dr. Collins, as if he had been still Provolt. To this Dr. Whichcot did not only give his confent, (without which the thing could not have been done), but was very forward for the doing of it, though hereby he did not only confiderably leffen his own profit, but likewife incur no fmall cenfure and hazard, as the times then were. And, left this had not been kindness' enough to that worthy person, whofe place he poffefled, in his laft will he left to his fon, Sir John Collins, a legacy of one hundred pounds. And, as he was not wanting either in refpect or real kindness, to the rightful owner, fo neither did he stoop to do any thing unworthy to obtain that place; for he never took the covenant: and not only fo, but, by the particular friendship and intereft which he had in fome of the chief of the vifitors, he prevailed to have the greatest part of the fe lows of that college exempted from that impofition; and preferved them in their places by that means. And to the fellows that were ejected by the vifitors, he likewife freely confented that their full dividend for that year fhould be paid them, even after they were ejected. Among thefe was the reverend and ingenious Dr. Charles Mafon; upon whom, after he was F 2 ejected, ejected, the college did confer a good living which then fell in their gift, with the confent of the Provoft, who, knowing him to be a worthy man, was contented to run the hazard of the displeasure of those times. So that I hope none will be hard upon him, that he was contented upon fuch terms to be in a capacity to do good in bad times. For, befides his care of the college, he had a very great and good influence upon the univerfity in general. Every Lord's day in the afternoon, for almost twenty years together, he preached in Trinity-church, where he had a great number, not only of the young scholars, but of thofe of greater standing and beft repute for learning in the univerfity, his conftant and attentive auditors: and, in those wild and unfettled times, contributed more to the forming of the students of that university to a fober fenfe of religion than any man in that age. After he left Cambridge he came to London, and was chofen Minifter of Blackfriars; where he continued till the dreadful fire: and then retired himself to a donative he had at Milton near Cambridge; where he preached conftantly, and relieved the poor, and had their children taught to read at his own charge, and made up differences among the neighbours. Here he ftaid till, by the promotion of the Reverend Dr. Wilkins, his predeceffor in this place, to the bishoprick of Chester, he was by his interest and recommendation prefented to this church. But, during the building of it, upon the invitation of the court of Aldermen, in the mayoraity of Sir William Turner, he preached before that Honourable auditory at Guild-hall chapel every Sunday in the afternoon, with great acceptance and approbation, for about the space of seven years. When his church was built, he beftowed his pains here twice a-week, where he had the general love and refpect of his parish; and a very confiderable and judicious auditory, though not very numerous by reason of the weakness of his voice in his declining age. It pleafed God to blefs him, as with a plentiful eftate, fo with a charitable mind: which yet was not fo well known to many, because in the difpofal of his charity he very much affected fecrecy. He frequently be ftowed ftowed his alms, as I am informed by those who best knew, on poor houfe-keepers, difabled by age or fickness to fupport themselves, thinking thofe to be the most proper objects of it. He was rather frugal in expence upon himfelf, that fo he might have wherewithal to relieve the neceffities of others. And he was not only charitable in his life, but in a very bountiful manner at his death; bequeathing in pious and charitable legacies to the value of a thousand pounds: To the library of the univerfity of Cambridge, fifty pounds; and of King's college, one hundred pounds; and of Emanuel college, twenty pounds: to which college he had been a confiderable benefactor before; having founded there several scholarships to the value of a thousand pounds, out of a charity with the difpofal whereof he was intrusted, and which not without great difficulty and pains he at laft recovered. To the poor of the feveral places where his estate lay, and where he had been Minister, he gave above one hundred pounds. Among those who had been his fervants, or were fo at his death, he difpofed in annuities and legacies in money to the value of above three hundred pounds. To other charitable uses, and among the poorer of his relations, above three hundred pounds. To every one of his tenants he left a legacy according to the proportion of the estate they held, by way of remembrance of him: and to one of them that was gone much behind, he remitted in his will feventy pounds. And, as became his great goodnefs, he was ever a remarkably kind landlord, forgiving his tenants, and always making abatements to them for hard years, or any other accidental loffes that happened to them.. I must not omit the wife provifion he made in his will to prevent law-fuits among the legatees, by appointing two or three perfons of greatest prudence and authority among his relations final arbitrators of all differences that fhould arife. Having given this account of his laft will, I come now to the fad part of all; fad I mean to us, but happieft to him. A little before Eafter laft, he went down to Cambridge; where, upon taking a great cold, he fell F 3 into |