ALL flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof, is as the flower of the field: Some of these Flowers have more life and lustre than others: They are more beautiful, as well as more lasting: Yet in the course of things, the Grass withereth and the Flower fadeth; and that sometimes so quick, and by [Page 6] such an unlooked for turn, that in the Morning it groweth up and flourisheth, and in the Evening it is cut down and withereth. One stroke of a Scithe cuts them down by handfuls: And then the best deck'd spot of Ground, does quickly change its Face, and lose all its Beauty. We who but the other Day, saw a Great Queen, (I say, the other Day, for such an Idea must live so long and so fresh in our Minds, that for a great many Years we will still say the other Day) we who saw Her, like the Master-piece of Nature, wrought up by all the Polishings of Art and Improve­ment, look with so fresh a Bloom, and such promising Ap­pearances, who carried that Air of Life and Joy about Her, that [Page 7] animated all who saw Her, and who reckoned their own lives both the safer and the happier, because Hers was so firm, must now lament, that all this is ta­ken from us, with one sudden and amasing stroke. The best part of us, our hearts and hopes, are struck down with Her; who was the best, God knows, the much best part of us all. We look up to Heaven with deep, though silent regret, as if we envied Her blessedness: We look down to the Earth, like men that are sinking thither: We look to the Grave, where what was mortal is lodged till it be­comes immortal, with a sort of Indignation, that it should re­ceive and consume those sacred Remains for which wee feel a [Page 8] sort of superstition, which though our Reason may check, yet it cannot quite silence or extinguish.

NATURE, even on very ex­traordinary occasions, is apt to give it self some vent, and to procure to it self some mitiga­tion of its pain. And when it is too full, for well chosen Ex­pressions or regular Discourses, the broken and inarticulate Lan­guage of Sighs and Tears, gives some relief: A Calm succeeds those Storms: They give at least a breathing, and softer in­tervals. Here we feel such an oppression, and distraction of Thought, that they choak us in­wardly, and break out only in amasement, and in a wildness [Page 9] of look and behaviour. We feel so great a loss in present, that we need not heighten it by the gloomy prospect of the fa­tal Consequences, that may follow it: And yet we cannot help seeing that, which is but too visible. We dare not pre­tend to enter into the secret of God's Counsels, which are wrapt up from the Eyes of Mortals: Yet they have such Characters upon them; that from thence we are induced to make some Conjectures about them; tho', after all, these are but Conje­ctures, and are often ill grounded. But whether we look up to God, or to the outward face of things, and to those appearances that are but too obvious, we soon find cause enough to drive back [Page 10] our thoughts to that dark and native horrour that does now haunt and possess them. Some may perhaps make vain Com­plaints against God, and try to ease their own grief, by accusing his Providence: Our Hearts may carry us to say, Why was so much worth laid in one Mind, and so nobly lodg'd? Why was it just showed the World, with advan­tage enough to let all Men see what might have been expected from it? Why were so many great Idea's and vast Designs formed by her? Why was she furnished with such skill and softness in the ma­nagement of them? And the sad Why comes last, Why was all this snatched from us so early and so suddenly?

[Page 11]IT is true, all God's ways are a great depth; and we may ne­ver presume to ask of him a reason of any of his Dealings, which are past finding out: But here the Steps of his Providence are so accountable, that we ought not to be long in the Dark about them. So much Worth was full Ripe for Hea­ven: And was much too Good for Earth, especially for so cor­rupt a part of it, as we are. If those great Blessings which Heaven held forth to us in Her, had attained the Ends for which they were Designed, we might then have hoped that Her Crown would have been the longer de­layed; and that our Happiness might have been the more last­ing. [Page 12] The cutting part of our Sorrow is this, That we have too good reason to believe that we have procured this to our selves.

UNLESS, according to the growing Impiety that spreads it self amongst us, we will conclude that God has forsaken the Earth, and that all things roul, either under the sullenness of Fate, or the giddiness of Chance; if we believe that Providence watches over, and governs all that hap­pens here below; we must then acknowledge, that so great a Change as this has made, could not have come upon us, but by a just and wise Direction. Therefore instead of those irre­gular Thoughts and Expressions [Page 13] by which so great a Commoti­on of Mind may discharge it self, and instead of those wild and dejecting Apprehensions, which it may be apt to throw upon us, we ought to reduce our selves to more order, and to consider more sedately, what we may justly fear, and how we may wisely provide against it.

IF we will examine what may have brought so severe a stroak upon us, and what may draw after it yet heavier ones, (but can any be heavier!) then if there is yet room for Hopes, if our Wound is not incurable, and if the Breach that is made upon us is not wide as the Sea, so that nothing can hin­der [Page 14] our being overflown by it, then I say, the searching into this, is all the reserve that is left us, all that can balance so inestimable a Loss, or rather all that can save us from be­ing swallowed up utterly by it.

EVEN in a Shipwrack every one is forced after all his asto­nishment at their common Fate, to try by what shift he him­self may escape: For though the first disorders of Melancho­ly may make one wish rather to perish in so terrible a Cala­mity, than to furvive it, yet af­ter all, Nature returns to it self, and feels Self-preservation to be too deeply wrought into its Composition, to be easily sha­ken [Page 15] off. While then such a Load oppresses us, and when such Fears compass us round, all that remains, to make the one lighter, and to dissipate the other, is for us to lay our Hands on our Mouths, because God has done it: But then to lay them on our Heart, and to ask our selves what have we done? And what shall we do to be saved?

HOW just soever any Affli­ction may seem to be, yet it must have its Bounds. Our Religion gives a Temper: It does not impose upon us the dry Sullenness of Stoicks; Their most admired Sayings, That Fate is inexorahle; That it is in vain to be troubled at that we cannot help: And the famed Answer of [Page 16] him, who upon the News of his Son's Death, said coldly, I knew I begat him mortal, have an air in them, that seems above the pre­sent state of human Nature. It looks too savage and contrary to those tender Affections that are planted in us; and that are in some sort necessary for carrying on the common Concerns of Life. But the Extreams on the other hand, are much more boister­ous and untractable: While the Rages of Passion govern; nei­ther the Calmness of Reason, nor the Authority of Religion will be hearkened to. Heathenism was fruitful in the Inventions of Fury, Hecatombs of living Creatures were thought poor Oblations: Humane Sacrifices were offered liberally on those [Page 17] Occasions, nor was the great­est waste of Treasure, with all the Profusion of Funeral Piles and magnificent Buildings, thought a suitable addressing of their Dead to the invisible State, to which they went, unless innumerable Ghosts were sent after them as a welcom Convoy to follow them thither. When the Civi­lizing of the World and the De­cencies first of Humanity, then of Philosophy, and chiefly when Revealed Religion came to sof­ten and enlighten Men; those outragious Solemnities fell off: Tho' the costly Part was by ma­ny kept up with too much O­stentation. The Corrupters of Re­ligion, found that the Tender­ness of Affection, with that ge­nerous Dissinteressedness which [Page 18] it gave, offered to them a Har­vest, that might be fruitful: And they were not defective in the Art of Cultivating it.

OPINIONS were invented, and Practices were contriv'd, that drew great Wealth into their Hands; and begat a Considera­tion for them, which, if it had not been over-done by the Ma­nagers, and that in a manner too course and too ravenous not to be found out at last, was bring­ing the whole World under their Authority. Their Title seemed sure: And it was to have its chief Operation; when both those who died and those who lived, were the least able to examine their Pretensions: the Fears of the one and the Sorrows [Page 19] of the other, made them very pliant to their Conduct, and im­plicite under it.

WE have a better Light, and are governed by truer Measures: We know there is a wise Provi­dence, and a future State; and in those two never failing Sources of Quiet and Submission, we give our Sorrows just Abate­ments. But since all the Steps of Providence, tho' just and wise in themselves, have not the same Face to us, some of them being as bright as others are dark; we ought not to look on Providence as rigid Fate; but as the steady Conduct, of a Mind that is in­finitely wise: we ought therefore to go as far as reasonably we can, in judging what is the Lan­guage [Page 20] of that Providence to us, and what the Designs of it up­on us may be.

THE liveliest as well as the use­fullest Exercises of our Thoughts, is to summ all that was excel­lent and imitable in the Person whose Loss we lament; to lay it all together; to observe how Amiable it was, what an Influ­ence it had, and in what Effects it appeared. This if it rests in the bare commendation of one, that may be safely praised, when Flattery or Interest cannot be thought to have any share in the Incense, that is then given, it is at least a Justice to the Memory of a Person that deserved it, and a Homage to Vertue it self. It will probably go deeper, and [Page 21] have its best Effect upon us: It will engage us to love those Vertues in our selves, which we admire in others, and will re­proach us, if we commend that in another, which we take no care to imitate our selves. Pro­bably this will not evaporate quite into Discourse, or wear off with Time: somewhat will stick, and have a due Effect upon us. Some of those Vertues may so far insinuate themselves into us, that we may grow to love and practise them. A noble Pattern cannot be much looked at with­out begetting some disposition to copy after it; and to imitate it. A great Lustre, tho' it may sometimes dazle, yet it enlightens, as well as it strikes.

[Page 22]THOSE who are perhaps ti­ed too closely, by some fatal En­gagements to Practices that they cannot resolve on forsaking, yet have that secret Veneration for true Vertue, especially for the sub­lime of it, and saw so much of that in our blessed Queen, that they may be desirous to see such a just Representation of those va­rious Branches of her Character, as may entertain their Admirati­on at present, and be perhaps of some more Use to them, in other Periods of their Lives. They may desire to be made wiser, if not better by it. They may hope that what Effect soever it may have on the present Age, it will have some on those that are to come: It will be a lively Part of [Page 23] our History, and set a noble Pat­tern to succeeding Princes. And all Persons, how bad soever they may be themselves, have too sen­sible a share in Government, not to wish that their Princes were truly and heroically Good.

A Picture of Her, that may have some Life in it, is that which all seem to desire. Where there were so many peculiar Fea­tures, and yet so much of Ma­jesty spread over them all, it seems as hardly possible not to hit a great deal of the Resem­blance, as to hit it all, and to draw truly, and to the life. Eve­ry one will at first view say, It is She: But this abatement must be expected, that it has not quite ta­ken Her. It has not Her Air, tho' [Page 24] it may have Her Features. The Colours will seem to sink, when we remember how the Original it self looked.

EXTRAORDINARY Degrees of Vertue in Sovereign Princes, happen so seldom, that it is no wonder if they give the World, a surprise that is as great as it is agreeable. When we look through past Ages, and through all the different Climates and Corners of the World, we find little that is truly Eminent, without some great diminution accompany­ing it.

WE accustom our selves by Study and Observation, not to be flattered with the Hopes of see­ing Idea's of Perfection on the [Page 25] Throne. It seems a Presumption to fansie that our own Times, should have a Priviledge that former Ages could not boast. We find that even David, and So­lomon much more, had Blemishes almost equal to their Vertues. Few of their Successors arrived at their Degree of Perfection; tho' they might have all their Allay. Hezekiah and Iosiah are the least exceptionable: Yet some lesser slips occur even in their History. Constantine and Theodosius were two of the greatest Blessings of the Christian Church; yet we dare not propose them as Pat­terns in every thing. Clovis and Charles the Great make a mighty Figure in History: Because the World is disposed to remember what was Good in them, and to [Page 26] forget the rest. A full Picture of these would have one side so bright, with another so spotted, that the whole would look but odly. If the good and bad that was in most Princes, whose Names sound the best, were set against one another, as critically as Sue­tonius has represented the Roman Emperours, the World would perhaps retract much of the ad­miration that it has paid them: And might be for some time in suspence, which side of the Cha­racter was superiour, and did preponderate the other.

FEMALE Government has had its peculiar Blemishes, with fewer Patterns to compensate for the Faultiness of others. The fierce­ness of Semiramis Character, does [Page 27] lessen her Greatness: And the Luxuries of Cleopatra does more than balance her Beauty. The Cruelties of Irene were such, that even her Zeal for Images could not cover them, in the thickest Mist of Superstition. Mathildis and the Ioans of Naples, are too black to be well thought of, for all the Flatteries of Popes: And Pope Gregory's Raptures upon Brunichild have lessened him, ra­ther than changed her Character. It is true, Pulcheria has a fairer Grace, yet some Suspicions have a little eclipsed her; and her Reign was but of a few days continuance, till she chose a Hus­band, who was made Emperour by the right of Marrying her. Amalazuntha has a nobler Cha­racter, it is indeed given her by [Page 28] Cassiodore, that had been her chief Minister; but he was the wisest and best Man of the Age: Her Fate was dismal; and others have cast black Imputations on her: But if that wise Senator, is to be believed, she was one of the best and greatest, tho' the most un­fortunate of Women. Female Government has seldom looked so great as it did in Isabel of Castile. But if she was a good Queen, she was but an indifferent Wife: And all the Honour she did her Sex, was thrown down in her Daugh­ter, who was likewise a Sovereign; whose violent affections to her Husband, were as troublesome while he lived, as extravagant after his Death: She keeping the Dead Body still in view, and making it Travel about with her, [Page 29] in her Journies which she made only in the Night; neglecting Government, and sinking into a feebleness that made her become at last utterly incapable, of even the shadow of it; which was all that had remained in her for many Years.

IF Iane of Navarre had had a larger Sphere, she was indeed a perfect Pattern: Nothing was ever suggested to lessen her, but that which was her true Glory: Her receiving the Reformation. She both received it, and brought her Subjects to it. She not only Reformed her Court, but her whole Principality to such a de­gree, that the Golden Age seemed to have returned under her; or rather, Christianity appear'd a­gain [Page 30] with the purity and lustre of its first beginnings. Nor is there one single abatement to be made here: Only her Principality was narrow: Her Dominion was so little extended, that tho' she had the rank and dignity of a Queen, yet it looked liker the Shaddow, than the reality of So­vereignty: Or rather it was So­vereignty in Miniature, tho' the Colours were very bright, it was of the smallest form.

TWO Mary's in this Island shewed a greatness of Genius, that has seldom appeared to the World. But the Superstition and Cruelty of the one, and the Con­duct and Misfortunes of the o­ther, did so lessen them, that the Sex had been much sunk by their [Page 31] means, if it had not been at the same time as powerfully sup­ported by the happiest and most renowned of all Sovereign Queens. I know I need not name Her.

THE great Figure she made both at home and abroad, Her wise Conduct and able Ministry were such, that the Nations flou­rishing in Trade, and extending it self in Colonies, the encrease of our Wealth, and the strength of our Fleets, owe their beginnings to Her Auspicious Reign. The great Transactions then abroad in the World, took their turn from the direction and the support that she gave them. But that which is above all, and for which we owe her Memory the profoundest acknowledgments; It was by her [Page 32] means, that the true Religion received its establishment among us. She delivered us from a Foreign Yoak; she freed us from Idolatry and Superstition; and settled us upon a Constitution that has been ever since the truest Honour, as well as the greatest support of the Reformation. So much we owe to the Ashes of that Great Queen, that Her Memo­ry is still fresh and sacred among us: Her Times are esteemed the standard of our Happiness, and her Name still carries a delight­ful Sound to every English Ear. If there were any defects or dis­orders in that time, we ought to think mildly of them, and to censure them gently. In Her we must own that Female Govern­ment seemed to have shined with [Page 33] the fairest Glory: We are sure that History can show nothing like it.

BUT the latest Instance is commonly the freshest in our Thoughts: And what lustre so­ever, Authority in that Sex, may have cast about it in the last Age, it has come under a Cloud in the present. A Queen has lived in our own Times, whose great De­scent gave Her a just Title to the highest Gratitude, and whose Mind seemed born with a sub­limity made for Empire, that for some time, like the Northern Star, attracted the Eyes of all the World to Her. But she abandon­ed her Throne and Subjects, and chose rather to wander Inglori­ously, than to maintain her Post, [Page 34] and exert Her superiority of Genius in governing well at home, and giving Law to those about her. This had made the dispo­sition to Salick Laws become more universal. We have seen that which has not only taken off the Cloud, which she had cast on her Sex, but has raised it far beyond the Precedents or Patterns of former Times. In Her, that name, which all Generations shall call blessed, has recovered the a­miable sound, that it ought ever to have. We heard it, not without some harshness, when we remem­bred some who had carried it: Nothing can add to the glorious beginning of that Name; yet our Mary has restored it to its first sweetness.

[Page 35]WE seek in vain for a Pat­tern to resemble her: Her Grand­mother of Navarre, is the likest thing we find to Her. But we do not lessen that Queen's Glory, when we say, that this descendant of Hers had an Auguster appear­ance and a more exalted Throne. She had the higher Sphere, and so we may conclude she was the superiour Intelligence. She was all that the other Queen had been, even while she was in her Prince­ly State. The World has reason to believe, that every thing would have been the same in the other, if she had been advanced to an Imperial Crown. But what may be well believed of Her, was seen in this branch, that sprang from Her Root: Her worth grew with [Page 36] her Advancement. She was not only better known in it, but there was a constant progress in her Vertues, even beyond that of Her Fortunes.

YET after all this cannot so properly be called a Female Go­vernment: Though Soveraignty was in Her, it was also in A­nother: Her Administration sup­plyed the Others Absence. Mo­narchy here seemed to have lost its very Essence; it being a Go­vernment by One. But as the Administration was only in One at a time; so they were more One, than either Espousals or a Joynt Tenure of the Throne could make them: There was an Union of their Thoughts as well as of their Persons; and [Page 37] a concurring in the same De­signs, as well as in the same In­terests. Both seemed to have one Soul, they looked like the different faculties of the same mind. Each of them having pe­culiar Talents, they divided be­tween them the different parts of Government, as if they had been several Provinces: While He went abroad with the Sword in His Hand, She stayed at home with the Scepter in Hers: He went as the Arbiter of Europe, to force a just, as well as a general Peace, She stayed to maintain Peace, and to do Justice at home. He was to Conquer Enemies, and She was to gain Friends. He, as the Guardian of Christendom, was to diffuse himself to all, while She contracted her care, [Page 38] chiefly to the concerns of Religi­on and Vertue. While He had more business, and She more lei­sure, She prepared and suggested, what He executed. In all this, there was so close, but so entire an Union, that it was not possible to know how much was proper to any one; or if ever they dif­fered in a Thought from one a­nother: But the Living are not now to be spoke of: Our Thoughts must run wholly where our Sorrows carry us.

WHILE we seek for resem­blances to Her, in Sacred History, we find her so like Iosiah, that their being of the same Dignity, may excuse the Parallel, tho' the Sex is different. He came, after a long and deep corruption: A [Page 39] Reign that had so entirely viti­ated the Nation, that neither the Judgments of God that fell on Manasses, nor his own sincere, tho' late Repentance, was able to correct the disorders of his former Years. So soon is a Nation run into so depraved a State, that its recovery becomes almost despe­rate. Iosiah was under much disadvantage in his first Educati­on: His being a King so young, exposed him to all the Flatteries by which those about him might hope to insinuate themselves into his favour; but his happy temper was above it. While he was but growing out of Childhood, in the Eighth Year of his Reign; and the Sixteenth Year of his Age, he began to seek after God: He con­tinued four Years in this Pious [Page 40] course of Life, before he set a­bout the reforming of his People, that his own good Example might have such Influence, and give him such credit in it, as might ba­lance the slowness of beginning it. When he set about it, it was the work of six Years to purge the Land from Idolatry; and of o­ther six to set forward the repair­ing the Temple. All was not finished before the Eighteenth Year of his Reign, so hard it is to recover a degenerated Nation. As they were searching the Tem­ple, the Book of the Law (by which most do understand the Original it self) was found: the dreadful Threatnings in it struck Iosiah with a just horror. He sent to Huldah, a famed Prophetess, to see what comfort she could [Page 41] give him; she answered, that the decree was fixed and irrever­sible; but he should die in Peace, and not see those fatal days. This was some mitigation to his Grief. He tried all he could to reform his People, but without Success; they were weary of him and of his Vertue: And were longing for an opportunity to return a­gain to their Idolatry. So inve­terate was the Corruption, that all the exactness of Iosiah's care, as well as the strictness of the Example that he set his own Sons, could not keep them from the spreading Contagion; it was so catching. This was the last Es­say of Mercy upon that People; in the best of all their Kings. He was fatally engaged in an unequal War, and was killed in [Page 42] the Day of Battel. His Death, upon his own single account, would have given the Iews but too just a Cause of a bitter Mourning for him: But the Miseries, that did immediately follow his Death, made it to be so long remembred, that in a Book writ about an hundred Years af­ter, it is said, that they continued their Mourning for him to that Day. It was no wonder that it was remembered by them with so solemn and so lasting a Sor­row. A succession of Calami­ties came so thick after it, that there was scarce a lucid Interval between them: Captivity came after Captivity: And what by War, what by Famine, and what by Desertion, in the course of Four and twenty Years after his [Page 43] death, their Nation became an Astonishment, a Curse, and a Bye­word to all Nations. Ierusalem was laid in Heaps, their Temple was rased down to the Ground, and Zion became a ploughed Field. And if the second and final Destruction of that City and Nation, had not been so signal▪ and so particularly related by one, who was an Eye-witness of it, that it wore out the remem­brance of all that had happened in former Times; this would have past for one of the blackest and the most amazing Scenes in History.

THAT pathetical Lamentati­on which Ieremy writ upon it, has strains in it so tender and so moving, that no Man who [Page 44] has not hardned himself against the Compassions of human Na­ture, can read them without a sensible Emotion; tho' they re­late to Transactions, that hap­pened many Ages ago: Such a lively Poem, as that is, makes them ever look fresh, and seem present.

I will make no Reflections on any part of this historical De­duction. It leads one so natu­rally to Application, that there is no need of offering any. Here one may go rather too fast, than too slow, and stretch the Mat­ter, further than it will bear.

THE whole of it without any straining, lets us see, that in the worst State under which a Nati­on [Page 45] can fall, a good Prince gives a full stop to those Judgments, that are reserved for them: Even when they seem to be just break­ing out upon them: And that the removal of such Princes is like the letting loose that Hand of Justice, which was restrained by their Intercessions. But, since there is an Uniformity in the Me­thods of Providence; and that which has been, is that which shall be, then such an amazing Misery as accompanied the utter Ruine of the Iewish Nation, ought to make deep Impressions on all others, and to give these Words of the Prophet a formidable sound; The righteous perish, and the merciful Persons are taken away from the evil to come: Which will come the quicker, as well as the [Page 46] more certainly, for their being taken away: And that will be yet the nearer, if while such an appearance of things is in view, no Man considers it, nor lays it to Heart.

HERE I return to my Subject, from which all that has been now said, is not so much a Digression, as it may appear to be, to Vulgar Readers: A Subject it is, where the common Censures of Dis­courses of this kind, are not to be much apprehended. On other occasions of this nature, a few Ver­tues must be raised, to make the most of them that may be; and some few Accidents must be set out, with due Advantages. For the sake of these, a great deal must be forgiven, and the rest is [Page 47] to be shaded, or showed as at a distance and in perspective. Man­kind is so little disposed to be­lieve much Good of others, be­cause most Men know so much Ill by themselves, and are very unwilling to be made better, that in order to the begetting a full belief, of that which is propo­sed to the Imitation of others; the Words by which it is ex­pressed, must be severely weighed and well chosen. When Things of this kind are related with an exactness that seems to be too much studied, the Wit that is ill placed, lessens the Effect that might have followed, if the re­cital had been more natural: For what is most genuine, will be al­ways the best received: Nor must too much be said, how true or just soever.

[Page 48]THE present Age may be ea­sily brought to believe any thing that can be said upon this Sub­ject, because the Attestations of it, came so thick from all Hands. Yet such a Character as is now to be offered the World, and to be conveyed down to Posterity, must be so managed, that it may not seem too excessive: That Duty or Affection may not be thought to have raised it too high. The living Witnesses, to whom we may now appeal, will soon go off the Stage; The silent Groans, as well as the louder Cries that are now sounding in all our Streets, and in every Cor­ner, will soon be drowned and hush'd in silence: And then, that which will be now censured, as a [Page 49] narrow and scanty Commendati­on, far below the Subject, and unworthy of it, will appear to succeeding Ages to be a strain above human Nature: It will pass for the Picture of an ima­ginary Perfection, that seems ra­ther to set forth what our Nature ought to rise to, than what has really happened.

THIS Precaution is necessary, when Persons have lived in the shade, known only to a few and in a narrow Neighbourhood. But a Man may take a freer range, when he undertakes to describe One, that was always in view; that was under a constant Observation; and where a high Elevation, did put even that, which Humility might endea­vour [Page 50] to cover, in a true Light. The bright as well as the dark sides of such Persons, must be found out. Management may serve a turn, and go on for a time with Secrecy and Success: But the continued and uninter­rupted Thread of a Life, led with so uniform an exactness, that Censure it self, could never find Matter to fix on, even so long, as to keep a doubtful Thought in suspence, is that which one may venture on, with­out the danger of over-doing it, he must rather despair to do it Justice.

WHERE the Matter rises with so copious a fruitfulness; a nice choice must be made; much must be omitted, a great deal [Page 51] must be only mentioned, rather glanced at than enlarged on. The World is now so far before-hand in every thing that can be said, that we must own Fame has here changed her Character, and has given such true and full Re­presentations, that there is lit­tle left to be done; but to put things that are generally known, and universally talked of, in a little order, and to tell them as natively as she did them.

HERE arises an unexampled Piece of a Character, which may be well begun with: For I am afraid it both began and will end with Her. In most Persons, even those of the truest Merit, a studied management will sometimes appear with a [Page 52] little too much Varnish; Like a nocturnal Piece, that has a Light cast through even the most sha­ded Parts: Some Disposition to set ones self out, and some Sa­tisfaction in being commended, will at some time or other shew it self, more or less. Here we may appeal to great Multitudes, to all who had the honour to approach Her, and particularly to those who were admitted to the greatest Nearness, and the most constant Attendance; if at any one time, any thing of this sort, did ever discover it self. When due Acknowledg­ments were made, or decent Things were said, upon Occasi­ons that had well deserved them, (God knows how frequent these were!) these seemed scarce to [Page 53] be heard: They were so little desired, that they were presently past over; without so much as an Answer, that might seem to entertain the Discourse, even when it check'd it. She went off from it to other Subjects, as one that could not bear it.

So entire a deadness to the desire of Glory, which even the Philosophers acknowledged, was the last thing that a wise Man put off, seemed to be somewhat a­bove human Nature: And near­ly resembling that State of ab­solute Perfection, to which she has now attained. The desire of true Glory, is thought to be the noblest Principle that can be in Sovereigns; which sets them on, with the most constant Zeal, [Page 54] to procure the Good of Man­kind. Many have thought that a zealous pursuit of the one, could not be duly animated and maintained without the other. It was a part of the Felicity of our Times, that we have seen the most active Zeal for the Pub­lick, and a constant Delight in doing Good, joined with such unaffected Humility, so regard­less of Applause or Praise, that the most critical Observers, could never see Reason to think, that the secret Flatteries of Vanity, or Self-love, did work inwardly, or had any power over Her.

AN open and native Sinceri­ty, which appeared in genuine Characters, in a free and uncon­strained manner, did easily per­suade [Page 55] those who saw it, that all was of a Piece. A constant uniform Behaviour, when that which is within, does not agree with the appearances, seems to be a strain above our pitch. Nor could any Person find any other Reason to suppose that it was otherwise in this Instance, but from the secret Sense that every Man has, of some latent Corruption, and the stollen in­sinuations of Pride that he feels within himself, which may make him conclude, that the whole Race of Mankind is so tainted, that nothing can be entirely freed from those Infirmities, which do so naturally beset us. But such Persons ought to make another Reflection, that daily Observa­tion shews to be true; That no [Page 56] Man lives under so exact a Guard, and such a constant pre­sence of Mind, but that all those hidden Dispositions which lurk within him, will shoot at some times, and show themselves up­on great Occasions, or sudden Accidents. Nature will break through all Rules, when it is much excited, or taken at una­wares. Therefore it is much more Reasonable, as well as it is more Charitable, to think that there are no secret Inclinations, which lie so quiet, that they do never discover themselves, in a course of many Years, and of unlooked for Accidents, than to imagine that they are so covered and managed, as to be chained up in a perpetual Restraint. There is an Air in what is Ge­nuine [Page 57] that is soon seen, (I had almost said felt.) It looks No­ble, without Strains or Art; It pleases as well as it persuades, with a Force that is irresistible; and how silent soever it may be, it looks like the Universal Cha­racter: 'Tis a Language which Nature makes all Men under­stand, how few soever they are that speak it: This was so pe­culiar to Her, and so singular in Her, that it deserved well to be begun with.

IN most of those Persons who have been the eminentest for their Piety and Vertue, their Thoughts have risen too high for human Nature: Their Notions have become too fierce, and their Tempers too sullen and un­tractable: [Page 58] They have considered only what was good and desira­ble in it self, without regarding what the World could bear. They have not softned them­selves enough into that agree­ableness of Temper, that might give such an amiable prospect of Vertue, as should encourage the World to love and imitate it. Their Meditations have soured them too much: And, by an obstinate pursuing their own Idea's, without accommo­dating themselves enough to the frailties of others, they have given advantage to those who have studied to load them with Pre­judices: Their Designs have miscarried, and they themselves have become morose and melan­choly; despairing of doing any [Page 59] thing, because they could not hope to do every thing. Cato's Error has run thro' the best sort of Men that have ever lived: Of projecting a Commonwealth like Plato's, when the Romans were run to a dreg. Children must be gained even by flatter­ing their Weaknesses, and by the softness of Kindness and good Humour. The grown state of Man is often but an advanced Childhood: A Dotage rather than a Ripeness. It must be confessed, that few of those who in all other respects seem to have been born for the good of Mankind, have been able to give their Notions that turn, to set them off with that Air, and to recommend them with that Address, which we of late [Page 60] admired so much. A charming Behaviour, a genuine Sweetness, and the Sprightliness, as well as the Freedom of good Humour, had softned all those frightful Apprehensions, that the World is too willing to entertain of the Severities of Vertue, and of the strictness of true Religion. Lesser matters were not much stood on: An easie compliance in some of these, how little soever they were liked, on their own account, was intended to give Her advantages, in order to the compassing of greater things. While a fresh and graceful Air, more turned to seriousness, but always serene, that dwelt on her looks, dis­covered both the perfect Calm that was within, and shewed [Page 61] the force as well as the ami­ableness of those Principles, which were the springs of so chearful a Temper, and so live­ly a Deportment.

THE freedom of Chearful­ness is not always under an exact Command: It will make e­scapes from Rules, and be apt to go too far, and to forget all Measures and Bounds. It is seldom kept under a perpetual Guard. The openness of Her Behaviour was subject to uni­versal Observation; but it was under that regularity of Con­duct, that those who knew Her best, and saw Her oftnest, could never discover her Thoughts or Intentions further, than as She her self had a Mind to let them [Page 62] be known. No half Word, or change of Look, no Forgetful­ness, or run of Discourse, did ever draw any thing from Her, further, or sooner than as she designed it. This was managed in so peculiar a way, that no distrust was shewed in it, nor distaste given by it. It ap­peared to be no other, than that due reservedness which became her Elevation; and suted those Affairs that were to pass thro' her hands. When She saw cause for it, She had the truest Me­thods to oblige others to use all due freedom with Her self; while yet She kept them at a fit distance from Her own Thoughts.

[Page 63]SHE would never take any Assistance from those Arts, that are become so common to great Posts, that some perhaps fansie them necessary: She did not co­ver Her Purposes by doubt­ful Expressions, or such general Words, as taken strictly do sig­nifie little, but in common Use are understood to import a great deal more. As she would not deceive others, so she avoided the saying of that which might give them an Occasion to deceive themselves: And when she did not intend to Promise, she took care to explain Her meaning so critically, that it might be un­derstood that no Construction of a Promise was to be made from general Words of Favour. In a [Page 64] course of several Years, and of many Turns, when great Occa­sion was given for more artifi­cial Methods, and when, accord­ing to the Maxims of the World, great Use might have been made of them; yet she maintained Her sincerity so entirely, to the honour of Truth, be it said, as well as to Hers, that she never once needed Explanations to ju­stifie either Her Words or Acti­ons. Integrity preserved Her, as well as she preserved it.

SUCH eminent, I am sorry to say, such unusual Perfections, had they appeared in one of the meanest Capacity, and of the lowest degree of Improvement, yet must have challenged great Veneration. Common obser­vation [Page 65] makes it but too appa­rent, that those of the highest form, that have an exaltation in them, which makes them like another rank of Mortals, that have a true flight of Thought, a great compass of Knowledge, a stability and equableness of Temper, with a deep and cor­rect Judgment, who have culti­vated the advantages of Nature, by searching and laborious Ac­quisitions; such Persons, I say, do swell too much upon the preference that is due to them; and soil those shining distinctions that were born with them, by mixtures that need not now be enlarged on. A Subject com­posed of so much Perfection, ought not to be digressed from, [Page 66] to set out the disorders that ap­pear but too frequently in the sublimest pieces of Mankind. These are so unacceptable, while Virtue has so benign an aspect that eminent degrees of it, tho' joined with a lower proportion of that which seems to have more lustre, is much more valuable, that all that can be called Great in Human Nature, is without it.

BUT if both these should happen to meet together, and that in as high a degree as our mortal State is capable of, then we must acknowledge, that this is all that we can expect from our Nature, under its present de­pression. So few Instances of [Page 67] such a mixture have appeared to us, that we must confess, it is much more than we ought to look for. The History of Princes that have lived at a great di­stance from us, is seldom be­lieved to be so exact, especially in the Commandatory part, that we rely much upon it. Xenophon has made Cyrus appear to be a Prince, so much perfecter than the World is disposed to believe, that the Picture he gives of him passes rather for a piece of In­vention, than of History. When the World shall have lived be­yond the fame of Tradition, and Report, a Minute History of this Life, if exactly writ, may probably have the same Fate: It will look too great to be credible.

[Page 68]WHAT is Good, as well as what is Great in humane Na­ture, were here so equally mixed, and both shined so bright in Her, that tho' one of these is always the better part, yet it is hard to tell, in whether of the two she was the more emi­nent.

I will say little either of her Rank, or of her Person: the Dignity of the one, and the Majesty of the other, were born with Her. Her Sphere was great, and She was furnished with advantages proportioned to it. She maintained her Au­thority with so becoming a Grace; and inspired so parti­cular [Page 69] a Respect, that in this regard only, She was Absolute and Despotical, and could not be resisted. The Port of Roy­alty, and the Humility of Chri­stianity did so happily concurr in Her; that how different so­ever their Characters may seem to be, they gave a mutual lustre to one another.

SHE maintained that respect that belonged to her Sex, with­out any of those Diminutions, that tho' generally speaking, they do not much misbecome it, yet do seem a little to lessen it. She would never affect to be above it in common and meaner things: She had a Cou­rage that was resolute and firm, [Page 70] mixed with a Mildness that was soft and gentle; She had in Her all the Graces of Her own Sex, and all the Greatness of Ours. If She did not affect to be a Zenobia or a Boadicia, it was not because She wanted their Courage, but because She un­derstood the decencies of her Sex better than they did. The Character of a Iean of Navarre, or of our Celebrated Elizabeth, was much more valuable in her esteem, than that of a Semiramis, or of a Thomiris. A desire of Power, or an eagerness of Empire, were things so far be­low Her, tho' they generally pass for Heroical Qualities; that per­haps the World never yet saw so great a capacity for Government, [Page 71] joined with so little appetite to it; so unwillingly assumed, so modestly managed, and so chear­fully laid down.

THE clearness of her Ap­prehension, the presence of her Mind, the exactness of her Me­mory, the solidity of her Judg­ment, the correctness of her Expressions, had such particular distinctions in them, that great enlargements might be made on every one of these, if a Cloud of Witnesses did not make them less necessary. None took things sooner, or retained them longer: None judged truer, or spake more exactly. She writ clear and short, with a true beauty and force of Stile. [Page 72] She discovered a superiority of Genius, even in the most trifling matters, which were considered by Her, only as amusements, and so gave no occasion for deep reflections. A happiness of Imagination, and a liveliness of Expression, appeared upon the commonest Subjects, on the sudden and in the greatest va­riety of Accidents: She was quick but not hasty: and even without the advantages that Her condition gave Her, She had an exaltation of Mind, that subdued, as well as it charmed all that came near Her.

A quickness of Thought is often superficial; it catches easi­ly, and sparkles with some Lu­stre; [Page 73] But it lasts not long, nor does it go deep: A bright Vi­vacity was here joined with searching Diligence. Her Age and Her Rank had denied Her opportunities for much study. Yet She had gone far that way, and had read the best Books in the three Languages, that were almost equally familiar to Her. She gave the most of Her Hours to the study of the Scriptures, and of Books relating to them. It were easie to give amasing In­stances of Her Understanding in Matters of Divinity. She had so well considered our Disputes with the Church of Rome, that She was capable of managing Debates in them, with equal De­grees of Address and Judgment: [Page 74] Nor was She unacquainted with those unhappy Questions, that have distracted us: And had such just, as well as large Noti­ons about them; that they would have soon laid our Animosities, and have composed our Diffe­rences, if there had been Temper enough, of all Sides, to have hearkned to them.

SHE had a generous and a sublime Idea of the Christian Re­ligion, and a particular Affecti­on to the Church of England: But an Affection that was neither blind nor partial. She saw what Finishings we still wanted; and had dedicated Her Thoughts and Endeavours to the considering of the best Means that might [Page 75] both compleat and establish us: She intended to do all that was possible, in order to the raising a higher Spirit of true Devotion among us, to engage those of our Profession to a greater Appli­cation to their Functions; and to dispose us all to a better Under­standing among our selves; that we might with united Endeavours, set our selves to beat down Im­piety and Imorality. She read and meditated much on these Subjects; and judged of them with so just an Exactness, that it appeared the Strength of Her Mind went far beyond the Com­pass of Her Knowledge. She took that Care to be well in­formed of these Matters, that when She met with Hints, either [Page 76] in Books or Sermons, that re­lated to other Subjects with which She was not acquainted, She lost none of them: If they seemed to be of Importance, She called for Explanations of them, from those whom She suffered to entertain Her upon such Sub­jects. She proposed them often with a Preface, confessing Her own Ignorance: And when She had stated some Difficulties to them very clearly, She would conclude with Words that car­ried in them an Air of Modesty, that shined then most particular­ly, when She seemed to desire an increase of Knowledge. She would say, ‘She did not know if there was any Difficulty in such things or not; or, if She [Page 77] apprehended or expressed it right; or, if it was only Her Ig­norance.’ When any new thing was laid before Her, She seemed glad to have an occasion to own, that She knew nothing of that before: But then She would have it to be fully explained to Her, till She found She did thorough­ly apprehend it. All these In­timations were so carefully laid up by Her, that She seemed scarce capable of forgetting them. After several Years of Interval, She returned in Discourse to some Subjects, that had been former­ly opened to Her, with a fresh­ness of Apprehension about them, as if the first Discourse had never been interrupted. She knew none of the learned Lan­guages, [Page 78] yet when some Passages of Scripture were explained to Her, by the Genius and Phrases of the Original Languages, She retained them very carefully, e­ven tho' She understood not the Foundation of them. She loved sincerity in every thing, to such a degree, that She desired to un­derstand the weak side as well as the strong one of all Parties and Doctrines. She loved a di­stinct Knowledge of every thing; and She had accustomed those whom She admitted to talk to Her, on such Subjects, to hide neither the Weakness of the one side, nor the Strength of the o­ther from Her. When She de­livered Her own Judgment, which She generally avoided to do, un­less [Page 79] there was some necessity for it, She did it with that Modesty, as well as Exactness, that it shew­ed the Force as well as the Purity of Her Mind.

Next to the best Subjects, She bestowed most of Her time on Books of History, chiefly of the later Ages, particularly those of Her own Kingdoms, as being the most proper to give Her use­ful Instruction. Lively Books, where Wit and Reason gave the Mind a true Entertainment, had much of Her time. She was a good Judge as well as a great lover of Poetry: She loved it best when it dwelt on the best Subjects. So tender She was of Poetry, tho' much more of Ver­tue, [Page 80] that She had a particular Concern in the Defilement, or rather the Prostitution of the Mu­ses among us. She made some Steps to the understanding Phi­losophy and Mathematicks, but She stopp'd soon; only She went far in natural History and Per­spective, as She was very exact in Geography. She thought sub­lime Things were too high Flights for the Sex; which She oft talk­ed of, with a Liberty, that was ve­ry lively: But She might well be familiar with it, after She had given so effectual a Demonstra­tion of the Improvements it was capable of. Upon the whole Matter, She studied and read more than could be imagined, by any, who had not known, how [Page 81] many of Her Hours were spent in Her Closet. She would have made a much greater Progress, if the frequent returns of ill Hu­mours on Her Eyes, had not forced Her to spare them. Her very Diversions, gave Indications of a Mind that was truly Great: She had no relish for those lazy ones, that are the too common Consumers of most Peoples time, and that make as great wastes on their Minds, as they do on their Fortunes. If She used them sometimes, she made it visible, it was only in Compliance with Forms; because she was unwil­ling to offend others, with too harsh a Severity: She gave Her Minutes of leisure with the grea­test willingness, to Architecture [Page 82] and Gardenage. She had a Riches of Invention, with a happiness of Contrivance, that had Airs in it, that were freer and nobler than what was more stiff, tho' it might be more re­gular: She knew that this drew an Expence after it; She had no other Inclinations besides this, to any Diversions that were ex­penceful; and since this im­ployed many hands, She was pleased to say, ‘That She hoped it would be forgiven Her.’ Yet She was uneasie when She felt the weight of the Charge that lay upon it.

When her Eyes were endan­gered by Reading too much, She found out the amusement [Page 83] of Work: And in all those hours that were not given to better Imployments, She wrought with her own Hands; and that sometimes with so constant a diligence, as if she had been to Earn her Bread by it. It was a new thing, and looked like a Sight, to see a Queen Work so many hours a day. ‘She look­ed on Idleness as the great Cor­rupter of humane Nature: And believed that if the Mind had no Imployment given it, it would create some of the worst sort to it self: And She thought that any thing that might amuse and divert, with­out leaving a dreg and ill Im­pressions behind it, ought to fill up those vacant hours, that [Page 84] were not claimed by Devo­tion or Business.’ Her Ex­ample soon wrought on, not only those that belonged to Her, but the whole Town to follow it: So that it was become as much the Fashion to Work, as it had been formerly to be Idle. In this, which seemed a nothing, and was turned by some to be the Subject of Railery, a greater step was made, than perhaps eve­ry one was aware of, to the bet­tering of the Age. While She diverted her Self thus with Work, She took Care to give an Enter­tainment to her own Mind, as well as to those who were admit­ted to the honour of Working with Her: One was appointed to read to the rest, the Choice [Page 85] was suited to the time of the Day, and to the Imployment: Some Book or Poem that was Lively, as well as Instructing. Few of her Sex, not to say of her Rank, gave ever less time to Dressing, or seemed less curious about it. Those Parts of it which required more Patience, were not given up entirely to it. She read often, all the while her Self, and gene­rally aloud; that those who ser­ved about Her, might be the bet­ter for it: When She was indis­posed, another was called to do it; all was intermixed with such pleasant Reflections of Her own, that the Gloss was often better liked than the Text. An agree­able Vivacity spread that inno­cent Cheerfulness among all a­bout [Page 86] Her, that whereas in most Courts, the Hours of strict At­tendance are the heaviest Parts of the Day, they were in Hers, the most Delightful of all o­thers.

HER Cheerfulness may be well termed Innocent; for none was ever hurt by it: No natural Defects, nor real Faults, true or false, were ever the Subjects of her Mirth: Nor could She bear it in others, if their Wit happen­ed to glance that way. She thought it a cruel and barbarous thing, to be merry on other Peo­ples cost; or, to make the Mis­fortunes or Follies of others, the Matter of their Diversion. She scarce ever expressed a more en­tire [Page 87] Satisfaction in any Sermon that She had heard, than in our late Primates against Evil Speaking. When She thought some were guilty of it, She would ask them, if they had read that Sermon. This was understood to be a Re­primand, tho' in the softest man­ner. She had indeed one of the Blessings of Vertue, that does not always accompany it: For She was as free from Censures, as She was from deserving them. When Reflections were made on this, before Her, she said, ‘She ascri­bed that wholly to the Good­ness of God to Her. For She did not doubt but that many fell under hard Characters, that deserved them as little. She gave it this further turn, That [Page 88] God knew her Weakness, and that She was not able to bear some Imputations; and there­fore he did not try Her beyond her Strength.’ In one respect, She intended never to provoke Censure: She was conscientiously tender of wounding others; and said, ‘She hoped God would still bless Her in her own good Name, as long as she was care­ful not to hurt others;’ but as She was exact in not wronging any other while she diverted Her self, so upon indifferent Subjects she had a Spring of Cheerfulness in Her, that was never to be ex­hausted: it never run to Repe­tition, or forced Mirth.

[Page 89]A Mind that was so exalted by Nature, and was so im­proved by Industry, who was as much above all about Her by her Merit, as she was by her Condition, and that owed those peculiar Advantages, under God, chiefly to her Self; for very lit­tle was added to Her by others; had certainly a Right to indul­gent Censures, even tho' She had given occasion to them. Much ought to have been forgiven, to one that had deserved so well: But this is perhaps the first In­stance that the World has yet seen, of One that had so much in Her, that deserved to be va­lued and admired, without one single Defect, or Grain of Allay, [Page 90] that needed Allowances to be made for it.

I have dwelt hitherto upon the more general Parts of Her Cha­racter; I go next to consider what was more special. Those that deserve to be most enlarged on, are the Dispositions of Her Mind, both with relation to the Impressions of Religion, and the Compassions of human Nature. What She was inwardly with re­lation to God; was only known to him, whom She now sees Face to Face. Those with whom She talked, with more than ordinary Freedom, upon those Matters, saw on many Occasions, what an awful Sense she had of God, and of all Things in which his [Page 91] Glory was concerned: they saw with how exact a Tenderness, She weighed every Thing by which the Purity of Her own Conscience was to be preserved, unblemished as well as unspot­ted.

IN those great Steps of Her later Years, that carried a Face which at first appearance seemed liable to Censure; and that were the single Instances of Her whole Life, that might be thought ca­pable of hard Constructions; She weighed the Reasons she went on, with a Caution and Ex­actness that well became the Im­portance of them; the Biass ly­ing still against that, which to vul­gar Minds might seem to be Her [Page 92] Interest. She was convinced that the Publick Good of Mankind, the Preservation of that Religion which she was assured was the on­ly true one, and those real Extre­mities to which Matters were dri­ven, ought to supersede all o­ther Considerations. She had ge­nerous Notions of the Liberty of human Nature, and of the true Ends of Government: She thought it was designed to make Mankind Safe and Happy; and not to raise the Power of those, into whose Hands it was com­mitted, upon the Ruins of Pro­perty and Liberty. Nor could She think that Religion was to be delivered up to the Humours of mis-guided Princes; whose Persua­sion made them as cruel in impo­sing [Page 93] on their Subjects the Dictates of others, as they themselves were implicit in submitting to them: Yet after all, Her Incli­nations lay so strong to a Duty, that Nature had put Her under, that she made a Sacrifice of Her self, in accepting that high Ele­vation, that perhaps was harder to Her to bear, than if she had been to be made a Sacrifice in the severest Sense. She saw that not only Her own Reputation might suffer by it, but that Re­ligion too might be concerned, in those Reproaches that she was to look for. This was much more to Her, than all that Crowns with their gawdy Lustre, could offer instead of it; but the sa­ving of whole Nations seemed [Page 94] to require it: And that being the only visible Mean left to pre­serve the Protestant Religion, not only here, but every where else, she was thereby determined to it.

SHE was no Enthusiast: And yet she could not avoid thinking, that Her being preserved during Her Childhood, in that flexibili­ty of Age and Understanding, without so much as one single Attempt made upon Her, was to be ascribed to a special Pro­vidence watching over Her: To that She added, Her being early delivered from the Danger of all Temptations: And the Advan­tages she had afterwards, to em­ploy much privacy in so large a [Page 95] course of Study, which had not been possible for Her to have compassed, if she had lived in the constant Dissipation of a Pub­lick Court. These concurring, had convinced Her, that God had conducted Her by an imme­diate Hand, and that she was rai­sed up to preserve that Religion, which was then every where in its last Agonies: Yet when these and many other Considerations, which she had carefully attended to, determined Her; Nature still felt it self loaded: She bore it with the outward appearances of Satisfaction, because she thought it became Her not to discourage others, or to give them an oc­casion to believe, that Her un­easiness was of another Nature [Page 96] than truly it was: But in that whole Matter she put a constraint upon her Self (upon her Temper I mean, for no Consideration whatsoever, could have enduced her to have forced Her Consci­ence,) that was more sensible and violent to Her, than any thing that could have been wished Her, by the most enraged and virulent of all Her Ene­mies.

OH, could any be Enemies to such Vertue! and to so pure and so Angelical a Mind! Could She that was the Glory of her Sex, the Darling of human Nature, and the Wonder of all that knew. Her, become the Subject of Ha­tred or Obloquy!

[Page 97]A nobler Subject calls me from this Transport; to look over the other Parts of her Cha­racter, upon this Head of Religi­on. Modesty and Humility co­vered a great deal from com­mon Observation; indeed all that was possible for Her to con­ceal; but no Clouds can quite darken the Day; it casts a Light, even when it does not shine out. Her punctual exactness, not only to Publick Offices, but to her Secret Retirements, was so regu­lar a thing, that it was never put off, in the greatest Croud of Business or little Journeys; then, tho' the Hour was anticipated, the Duty was never neglected: She took Care to be so early [Page 98] on those Occasions, that she might never either quite forget, or very much shorten that, upon which she reckoned that the Blessing of the whole Day turn­ed. She observed the Lord's-Day so Religiously, that besides her Hours of Retirement, she was constantly thrice a Day in the Publick Worship of God: And for a great part of the Year, four times a Day, while she lived beyond Sea. She was constant to her monthly Com­munions: And retired her Self more than ordinary for some Days before them. In them, as well as in all the other Parts of the Worship of God, an unexam­pled Seriousness appeared always in Her, without one glance let [Page 99] out for Observation: And such care was taken to hide the more solemn Elevations of her Mind to God; that these things struck all those who saw them, but had never seen any thing like them before. This did spread a Spirit of Devotion among all that were about Her: Who could not see so much in Her, without feeling somewhat to a­rise in themselves; tho' few could chain themselves down to such a fixed and steady Appli­cation as they saw in Her. No­thing in that was theatrical: No­thing given to shew: Every thing was Sincere, as well as So­lemn: And Genuine as well as Majestical.

[Page 100]HER Attention to Sermons was so entire, that as her Eye never wandred from a good Preacher, so she shewed no wea­riness of an indifferent one: When she was asked, how she could be so attentive to some Sermons, that were far from being perfect, she answered, ‘That she thought it did not become Her, by any part of her Behaviour, to dis­courage, or seem to dislike one, that was doing his best.’ The hardest Censure that she past on the worst, was, to say nothing to their Advantage: For she ne­ver denied her Commendations to any Thing that deserved them. She was not content to be De­vout her self, she infused that [Page 101] Temper into all that came near Her: Chiefly into those whom she took into her more imme­diate Care, whom she studied to form with the Tenderness and Watchfulness of a Mother. She charmed them with her In­structions, as she overcame them with her Kindness: Never was Mistriss both feared and loved so entirely as She was. She scat­tered Books of Instruction to all were round about Her: And gave frequent. Orders that good Books should be laid in the places of Attendance, that such as wai­ted, might not be condemned to Idleness; but might entertain themselves usefully, while they were in their turns of Service.

[Page 102]SHE had a true regard to Pie­ty where ever She saw it, in what Form or Party soever. Her Judgment tied her to our Com­munion, but her Charity was extended to all. The Liberty that some have taken to un­church great Bodies of Christi­ans, for some Defects and Irre­gularities, were strains that She could never assent to: Nor in­deed could She well bear them. She longed to see us in a closer Conjunction with all Protestants abroad: And hoped we might strenghthen our selves at home, by uniting to us as many as could be brought within our Body. Few things ever grieved her more, than that those Hopes [Page 103] seemed to languish: And that the Prospect of so desired an Union vanished out of sight.

THE raising the Reputation and Authority of the Clergy, as the chief Instrument for advan­cing Religion, was that to which She intended to apply her utmost Diligence. She knew that the only true way to compass this, was to engage them to be Exem­plary in their Lives, and Emi­nent in their Labours: To watch over their Flocks, and to edifie them by good Preaching and diligent Catechising. She was resolved to have the whole Na­tion understand, that by these ways, and by these only, Di­vines were to be recommended [Page 104] to Favour and Preferment. She made it visible, that the Steps were to be made, by Merit, and not by Friendship and Importu­nity. Solicitations and Aspirings were Practices that affected her deeply; because She saw the Use that was made of them, by ma­licious Observers: Who conclu­ded from thence; that we run to our Profession, as to a Trade, for the sake of the Gains and Honours that we might find in it; and not to save Souls, or to edifie the Church. Every In­stance of this kind gave her a sensible Wound, because it hard­ned bad Men in the contempt of Religion. She therefore char­ged those, whom She trusted most in such Matters, to look [Page 105] out for the best Men, and the best Preachers, that they might be made known to Her. She was under a real anxiety when Church-Preferments, especially the more Eminent ones, were to be disposed of. She reckoned that that was one of the main Parts of her Care; for which a particular Account was to be given to that God, from whom her Authority was derived, and to whom She had devoted it. When She apprehended that Friendship might give a Biass, to those whom She allowed to speak to Her, on those Heads. She told them of it, with the Au­thority that became Her, and that they well deserved. She could deny the most earnest So­licitations, [Page 106] with a true Firmness, when She thought the Person did not deserve them: For that was Superior with Her, to all other Considerations. But when She denied things, She did it with so much Softness, and upon so good Reason, that such as might be mortified by the Repulse, were yet forced to confess, that She was in the right: Even when, for the sake of a Friend, they wished that She had for once been in the wrong.

IT grieved Her to hear how low and depauperated a great many of the Churches of England were become: Which were sunk into such extream Poverty, that it was scarce possible, even by [Page 107] the help of a Plurality, to find a Subsistence in them. She had formed a great and noble Design, to bring them all to a just state of Plenty, and to afford a due En­couragement: But Pluralities and Non residence, when not enforced by real Necessity, were otherwise so odious to Her, that She re­solved to throw such perpetual Disgraces upon them, as should oblige all Persons to let go the hold that they had got, of these Cures of Souls, over whom they did not Watch, and a­mong whom they did not La­bour.

IN a full Discourse on this very Subject, the Day before, the fatal Illness overtook Her; [Page 108] she said, ‘She had no great hope of mending Matters; yet She was resolved to go on, and ne­ver to suffer Her self to be dis­couraged, or to lose Heart: She would still try what could be done, and pursue Her De­sign, how slow or insensible so­ever the Progress might be.’ She had taken Pains to form a true Plan of the Primitive Consti­tutions; and had resolved to bring ours, as near it as could be: That so it might become more firm and useful, for at­taining the great Ends of Re­ligion. Neither the Spirit of a Party, nor of Bigottry, lay at the bottom of all this. She did not Project any Part of it as an Art of Government, or [Page 109] an Instrument of Power and Do­minion.

HER Scheme was thus laid: She thought that the Christian Religion was revealed from Hea­ven, to make Mankind happy here, as well as hereafter: And that as Mankind and Society could not subsist without any Religion at all, so also the Cor­ruption of Christianity, had made many Nations the worse rather than the better, for that Sha­dow of it, that was received a­mong them. She thought that a pious, learned, and a labori­ous Clergy was the chief Mean of bringing the World under the Power of the Chistian Religion: And that the treating their Per­sons [Page 110] with Respect, was necessa­ry to procure them Credit in the discharge of their Function. She intended to carry on all this to­gether, and not any one Part of it, separate from the rest. If at any time, She knew any thing in those who served at the Al­tar, that exposed them to just Censures, She covered it all that could be from common Obser­vation; but took Care that the Persons concerned should be both roundly spoke to, and proceeded against, when softer Methods did not succeed, or that it seemed necessary that their Punishment ought to be made as publick, as their Crimes were. She would never suffer any to go away with a Conceit, that a Zeal for the [Page 111] Service of the Crown, could atone for other Faults; or compound for the great Duties of their Fun­ction. This seemed to be the setting the Interests of Religion after their own: But She was re­solved to give them always the preference.

No Intimation was ever let fall to Her in any Discourse, that offered a probable Mean of ma­king us better; which was lost by Her. She would call upon some to turn that Motion over and over again, till she had formed Her own Thoughts concerning it. The last thing that She had settled with our late Blessed Pri­mate, was a Scheme of such Rules, as our present Circum­stances [Page 112] could bear, published since by His Majesty: Which was an Earnest of many others that were to follow, in due time. It was indeed an amasing as well as a delightful thing, to see how well She understood such Mat­ters, and how much she was set on promoting them.

SHE judged aright, That the true End of Power, and the best Exercise of it, was to do Good, and to make the World the bet­ter for it. She often said, that she found nothing in it to make it supportable; not to say plea­sant, besides that: And She won­dered that the true Pleasure which accompanied it, did not engage Princes to pursue it more ef­fectually. [Page 113] Without this She thought, that a private Life, with moderate Circumstances, was the happier as well as the safer State. When Reflections were once made before Her, of the Sharp­ness of some Historians, who had left heavy Imputations on the Memory of some Princes: She answered, ‘That if those Princes were truly such, as the Historians represented them, they had well deserved that treat­ment: And others who tread their Steps, might look for the same: For Truth would be told at last: And that with the more acrimony of Style, for being so long restrained: It was a gentle suffering to be ex­posed to the World in their [Page 114] true Colours, much below what others had suffered at their Hands: She thought that all Sovereigns ought to read such Histories as Procopius; for how much soever he may have ag­gravated Matters, and how un­becomingly soever he may have writ, yet by such Books they might see, what would be probably said of themselves, when all Terrors and Restraints, should fall off with their Lives.’ She encouraged those whom She admitted to frequent access, to lay before Her, all the Occasions of doing Good that might occur to their Thoughts: And was al­ways well pleased when new Op­portunities were offered to Her, in which She might exercise that [Page 115] which was the most valued of all Her Prerogatives. So desirous She was to know both how to correct what might be amiss, and to promote every good Design, that She not only allowed of great Freedom, in bringing Pro­positions of that kind to Her, but She charged the Consciences of some, with a Command to keep nothing of that Nature from Her, which they thought She ought to know. Nor were such Motions ever unacceptable to Her; even when other Cir­cumstances made it impossible for Her, to put them in execution.

THE reforming the Manners of Her People was one of Her chief Cares. If a greater Pro­gress [Page 116] was not made in this, ac­cording to the pious Wishes of some, who had good Intentions, and much Zeal, the true Account of that slowness was, this: She had often heard that the Hypo­crisie of the former Times, had brought on the Atheism and Impiety of the present; and had fortified Libertines in their Preju­dices: Therefore She resolved to guard against every thing that might seem to revive that. She observed that Iosiah was, for the space of four Years, engaged in a Religious course of Life, be­fore he set himself to the reform­ing of his People: That by the Example he set them, he might gain so much Credit in carrying on that Design, as might excuse, [Page 117] as well as compensate the slow­ness of beginning it. She judged that all People ought to be well possessed of their Intentions in that Matter: And She feared, lest in the dis-jointed State, in which our Affairs have lain so long, the going on with that Design, might have the Face of serving some other End, under that appea­rance: For that will be Popular, even when things are in a very corrupt State. Therefore, tho' this was no sooner moved to Her, than She set it a going, yet find­ing few Instruments to concur in it, and seeing a violent Oppo­sition to those that did, She thought that the putting Her whole Strength to it, might be re­served with great Advantage to a­another [Page 118] time, in which our Affairs should have a calmer Face, and be brought to a more sedate State. She did hearken careful­ly after every thing that seemed to give some hope, that the next Generation should be better than the present, with a particular At­tention. She heard of a Spirit of Devotion and Piety, that was spreading it self among the Youth of this great City, with a true Satisfaction: She enquired often and much about it, and was glad to hear it went on and prevailed. ‘She lamented that whereas the Devotions of the Church of Rome were all Shew, and made up of Pomp and Pageantry; that we were too bare and naked: And practised [Page 119] not enough to entertain a seri­ous Temper, or a warm and and affectionate Heart: We might have Light enough to direct, but we wanted Flame to raise an exalted Devoti­on.’

I have now given some In­stances of the Temper of Her Mind, in that which concerned God and Religion; I go, in the next place, to consider Her with relation to human Nature.

PRINCES are raised so far above the rest of Mankind, that they do generally lose sight of those Miseries, to which the greater part is subject. It would disturb that Ease, in which they [Page 120] pass away their Hours, too much, to hear dismal recitals of the Ca­lamities of their People. How much soever they may be lifted up with the glorious Title of the Parents of their Country, yet for the most part they know little of the Pressures their Peo­ple lie under, and they feel them less. Our blessed Queen was be­come the Delight of all that knew Her, by the obliging Ten­derness with which She treated all those who came near Her: She made the Afflictions of the Unfortunate easier to them, by the share that She bore of them; and the Necessities of the Mise­rable the more supportable, by the relief that She gave them. She was Tender of those who [Page 121] deserved her Favour; and Com­passionate towards those who wanted her Pity. It was easie for Her to reward: For all sorts of Bounty flowed readily from Her. But it was much harder for Her to punish, except when the nature of the Crime, made Mercy become a Cruelty, and then She was Inflexible, not on­ly to Importunity, but to the Tenderness of Her own compas­sionate Heart.

SHE was indeed happily fra­med by Nature: Which wrought so soon that it prevented Educa­tion. She was good and gentle, before She was capable of know­ing that She ought to be so. This grew up with Her in the [Page 122] whole Progress of Childhood: She might need Instruction, but she wanted no Persuasion: And I have been often told that She never once, in the whole course of her Education, gave any occasion to reprove Her: So naturally did She go into every thing that was Good, often before She knew it, and always after She once un­derstood it.

SHE was but growing out of Childhood, when She went a­mong Strangers: But She went under the Guard of so exact a Conduct, and so much Discre­tion: She expressed such a Gen­tleness, Access to Her was so ea­sie, and Her Deportment was so obliging; Her Life was such an [Page 123] Example, and Her Charity was so Free, that perhaps no Age ever had such an Instance. Ne­ver was there such an universal Love and Esteem (one is tem­pted to seek for other Words, if Language did afford them,) paid to any, as She had from Per­sons of all Ranks and Conditi­ons, in the United Provinces. It was like Transport and Rapture. The Veneration was so profound, that how just soever it might be, it seemed rather excessive. Nei­ther Her Foreign Birth, nor Re­gal Extraction, neither the diver­sity of Interests or Opinions, nor Her want of Power and Trea­sure, (equal to Her Bounty) diminished the Respects that were offered Her, even from a People, [Page 124] whose Constitution gives them naturally a Jealousie, of too great a Merit, in those who are at the Head of their Govern­ment.

I am afraid to enlarge too much on the Justice that was done Her in these Parts: Or on that universal Mourning, with which Her departure from them was followed: That seemed scarce capable of an addition; till now that there has appeared, so black a Gloom of despond­ing Sorrow spread among them all; Despair and Death seem­ing to dwell on every Face, when the dreadful News flew over to them. I am afraid, I say, to dwell too much on [Page 125] this, lest it may seem to re­proach those, who owed Her much more.

IN Her Character, ordinary things, how singular soever She might be in them, must be thrown into the Heap. She was a gen­tle Mistress, a kind Friend, (if this Word is too low for her State, it is not too low for her Humility,) and above all, She was so tender and so respectful a Wife, that She seemed to go beyond the perfectest Idea's that Wit or Invention has been able to rise to. The lowest Condi­tion of Life, or the greatest Ine­quality of Fortune, has not af­forded so perfect a Pattern. Ten­derness and Complacency seem­ed [Page 126] to strive which of them should be the more eminent. She had no higher Satisfaction in the pro­spect of Greatness, that was de­scending on Her, than that it gave Her an occasion of making Him a Present worthy of Him­self. Nor had Crowns or Thrones any Charm in them, that was so pleasant to Her, as that they raised Him to a Great­ness, which He so well deserved, and could so well maintain. She was all Zeal and Rapture, when any thing was to be done, that could either express Affection or shew Respect to Him. She o­beyed with more Pleasure, than the most Ambitious could have when they command. This Subject is too hard to be well [Page 127] set out, and so it must be left, in general and larger expressi­ons.

Those who served Her, can never give over, when they are relating the Instances of Her gen­tleness to them all. She was so soft when She gave her Orders, and so careful of not putting too much upon them; so tender of them in their Sickness and Af­flictions, so liberal on many dif­ferent occasions, that as the In­stances are innumerable, so they have peculiarities in them, which shew that every thing in Her was of a Piece with the rest. She shewed a sensibility at the death of those whom She particularly valued; that Persons of so ex­alted [Page 128] a Condition, do generally think may mis-become them. The many Tears that She shed upon the death of our good Pri­mate, who got the start of Her, a very few Days, shewed how well She understood his Worth, and how much She valued it.

So careful She was of all that belonged to Her, that when She saw what her last Sickness, was like to grow to, She made those, who had not yet gone through it, withdraw. She would suffer none of them to stay about Her, when their Attendance might en­danger their own Health: And yet She was so tender of them, when they fell under that so justly dreaded Illness, that She [Page 129] would not suffer them to be re­moved, tho' they happened to be lodged very near Her self.

HER Bounty and her Com­passions had great Matter given them to work upon. And how wide soever her Sphere may have been, She went in this rather be­yond her Strength, than kept with­in it. Those generous Confessors and Exiles whom the Persecution of France sent over hither, as well as to the United Provinces, felt the Tenderness as well as the Bounty of the Welcom that She gave them. The Confusions of Ireland, drive over Multitudes, of all Ranks, who fled hither for Shelter, and were soon reduced [Page 130] to great Straights, from a state of as great Plenty: Most of these were by Her means, both supported during their stay, and enabled to return home after that Storm was over: The large­ness of the Supplies that were given, and the tender Manner of giving them, made their Exile both the shorter and the more tolerable: The miserable among our selves, particularly those who suffered by the Accidents of War, found in Her a relief, that was easily come at, and was copi­ously furnished. She would ne­ver limit any from laying pro­per Objects for her Charity, in her way: Nor confine that Care to the Ministers of the Almonry: She encouraged all that were [Page 131] about Her, or that had free ac­cess to Her, to acquaint Her, with the Necessities, under which Persons of true Merit might languish: And She was never uneasie at Applications of that kind; nor was her Hand ever scanty, when the Person was deserving, or the Extremity was pinching. She was regular and exact in this: She found that even a Royal Treasure, tho' dispensed by a Hand that was yet more Royal, could not an­swer all Demands. Therefore She took Care to have a just Account, both of the Worth and of the Necessities, of those who pretended: And She shewed in this as great an Exactness, and as attentive a Regard; as much [Page 132] Memory, and as much Dili­gence, as if she had had no Cares of a higher Nature upon Her. It seemed She kept Tables or Jour­nals: For She had a Method in it, with which no Body was e­ver acquainted, as far as I could learn. It was very reasonable to believe, that She took Notes and set Rules to her Self in this Matter.

BUT She was so exact, to the Rule of the Gospel, of managing it with deep Secrecy; that none knew what or to whom she gave, but those whom she was forced to imploy in it. When it was to fall on Persons who had access to Her; her own Hand was the Conveyance: what [Page 133] went through other Hands, was charged on them, with an In­junction of Secrecy. And She her self was so far from speak­ing of such Things, that when some Persons were offered to her Charity, who had been already named by others, and were re­lieved by her self, she would not let those who spake to Her, up­on the Fame of their being in Want, understand any thing of the Notice that had been alrea­dy taken of it; but either She let the thing pass in silence, or if the Necessity was represent­ed as heavier, than She had un­derstood it to be, a new Sup­ply was given, without so much as a Hint of what had gone be­fore.

[Page 134]BUT how good soever She was in Her self, she carried a heavy Load upon her Mind: The deep Sense that she had of the Guilt and Judgments that seemed to be hanging over us, as no doubt it gave Her many afflicting Thoughts in the pre­sence of God, so it broke often out in many sad strains, to those to whom she gave her Thoughts a freer vent. The Impieties and Blasphemies, the open Contempt of Religion, and the Scorn of Vertue, that She heard of from so many Hands, and in so many different Corners of the Nation, gave Her a secret Horror, and offered so black a Prospect, that it filled Her with melancholy [Page 135] Reflections, and engaged Her in­to much secret Mourning. This touched Her the more sensibly when She at any time heard that some, who pretended to much Zeal for the Crown, and the pre­sent Establishment, seemed from thence to think they had some Right to be indulged in their Licenciousness, and other Irregu­larities. She often said, Can a Blessing be expected from such Hands, or on any Thing that must pass through them? She longed to see a Sett of Men of Integrity and Probity, of generous Tempers and publick Spirits, in whose Hands the Concerns of the Crown and Nation might be lodged, with reasonable Hopes of Suc­cess, and of a Blessing from a­bove, [Page 136] upon their Services. She had a just esteem of all Persons as She found them truly Vertu­ous and Religious: Nor could any other Considerations have a great Effect upon Her, when these were wanting. She made a great difference between those that were convinced of the Principles of Religion; how fatally soever they might be shut up, from having their due ef­fect on them; and those who had quite thrown them off: Where these were quite extin­guished, no Hope was left, nor Foundation to build upon: But where they remained, how fee­ble or unactive soever, there was a Seed still within them, that at some time or other, and [Page 137] upon some happy Occasion might shoot and grow. Next to open Impiety, the Coldness, the want of Heat and Life in those who pretended to Religi­on, the Deadness and Dis-union of the whole Body of Prote­stants, and the Weakness, the Humours and Affectations, of some who seemed to have good Intentions, did very sensibly af­fect Her. She said often, with feeling and cutting regret, Can such dry Bones live! When She heard what crying Sins abound­ed in our Fleets and Armies; She gave such Directions as seemed practicable, to those who She thought might in some mea­sure correct them: And She made some in very eminent [Page 138] Stations understand, That nothing could both please, and even oblige Her more, than that Care should be taken to stop those growing Disorders, and to re­duce Matters to the Gravity and Sobriety of former Times. The last great Project that Her Thoughts were working on, with relation to a Noble and Royal Provision, for maimed and decayed Seamen, was parti­cularly designed, to be so con­stituted, as to put them in a probable way, of ending their Days in the Fear of God. Eve­ry new Hint that way, was en­tertained by Her with a lively Joy: She had some Discourse on that Head, the very Day before She was taken ill. It gave Her [Page 139] a sensible Concern, to hear that Ireland was scarce got out of its Miseries, when it was returning to the Levities, and even to the Abominations of former Times: She spake of those things like one that was trembling, and sinking under the weight of them. She took particular Me­thods to be well informed of the State of our Plantations; and of those Colonies that we have among Infidels: But it was no small Grief to Her, to hear that they were but too generally a reproach to the Religion by which they were named, (I do not say which they professed, for many of them seem scarce to profess it:) She gave a willing Ear to a Proposition that was [Page 140] made for erecting Schools, and the founding of a College a­mong them. She considered the whole Scheme of it, and the En­dowment which was desired for it. It was a noble one, and was to rise out of some Branches of the Revenue, which made it lia­ble to Objections: But She took Care to consider the whole Thing so well, that She her self answered all Objections; and espoused the Matter with so af­fectionate a Concern, that She prepared it for the King to set­tle it at his coming over. She knew how heartily He concurred in all Designs of that Nature, tho' other more pressing Cares denied Him the Opportunities of considering them so much: [Page 141] She digested and prepared them for him: And as She knew how large a share of Zeal, His Ma­jesty had for good Things, She took Care also to give Him the largest share of the Honour of them. Nor indeed could any thing Inflame Her more, than the Prospect of setting Religion forward, especially where there were Hopes of working upon Infidels: Tho' after all, the Infi­dels at home, seemed to be more incurable and desperate, than those abroad.

HER Concern and Her Cha­rity was not limited to that which might seem to be Her own immediate Province: And was more especially put under [Page 142] Her Care. The Foreign Churches' had also a liberal share of it. She was not insensible of the Kindness of the Dutch: She re­membered it always with a grate­ful Tenderness; and was hearti­ly touched with all their Con­cerns. The Refuges of France were considered by Her, as those whom God had sent to sit safe under Her Shadow, and easie through Her Favour. Those scattered Remnants of our elder Sister, that had been hunted out of their Valleys, were again brought▪ together by Their Majesties means. It was the King's powerful Inter­cession, that restored them to their Seats, as well as to their Edicts: And it was the Queen's Charity that formed them into [Page 143] Bodies, and put them in the Me­thod of enjoying those Advan­tages, and of transmitting them down to the succeeding Ages. She took Care also of preserving the little that was left of the Bo­hemian Churches: She had formed Nurseries of Religion in some of the Parts of Germany, which were exhausted by War, and dis­abled to carry on the Educati­on of their Youth; and to trans­mit to the next Age, the Faith which they themselves profes­sed.

SUCH was the Temper of our blessed Queen: These were the Earnests of what we expected from Her: They had been a full Return of the most promi­sing [Page 144] Expectations in any other: But in Her they were only Ear­nests of what we looked for. It was but the dawning of Her Day: The Mists and Clouds rose so thick upon it, the Dis­orders of War did so obstruct many great Designs, that Her Light was much intercepted: It could not shine through: She understood well the Decencies of Things: They were beauti­ful in their Seasons; and they would not have had so fair an appearance, if they had come before the proper time, and the other Circumstances that might fit them. She seemed to have many Years before Her: Her Youth was that which added this particular Happiness, to all the [Page 145] other Blessings that we had in Her, That we thought we were secure in a long continuance of it. We flattered our Selves with the Hopes of a Reign that should have been lasting. The Hopes of that made us neither to doubt nor fear any thing else. What generous or abstracted Thoughts soever we may have, in speculation, Self-love lies so near us, that after all, we are chiefly concerned for our own Times. We think, we may more easily deliver over the Con­cerns of the next Age to those who are to live in it. It seems to be the Voice of Nature that Hezekiah said, Good is the Word of the Lord, that Peace and Truth shall be in my Days. Therefore when [Page 146] the Prospect of a fixed Happi­ness, goes farther than the rea­sonable Prospect of our own Continuance here, we think we our selves are very safe. It is also a delightful Thought to one, that considers how much all Things are out of Ioynt, and into what Disorder they have fallen, to hope that so dexterous a Hand was like to have so long a course of Life, before Her, for putting every Thing again into proper Methods, and in regular Cha­nels: And that might have li­ved till the Nation had put on another Face, till we had reco­vered our ancient Vertue, as well as our much blasted Fame: Till Religion had been not only secu­red, but raised to such a Degree, [Page 147] as to have shined out from us through the whole Earth, with a benign Influence on all the Foreign Churches; as well as with a dreadful one towards the Roman Church: (I mean not the Dreadfulness of Cruelty: That is Her own Character, which we still leave entire to Her: I mean the dazling Her with the bright­ness of Vertue and Religion a­mong us,) and till Publick Li­berty had been settled upon a true Basis. I mean the Autho­rity of a well-balanced and well­conducted Government: That should have maintained Proper­ty, and have asserted the gene­rous Principles of the Freedom of human Nature: That should have dispensed Justice, and re­warded [Page 148] Vertue, with a gentle but steady Hand: And have re­pressed the luxuriant Pretensions of those, who understand Pub­lick Liberty so little, as not to be able to distinguish it from Licenciousness; which strikes first at Religion and Vertue, and then must soon fall with its own Burthen, under the Misery of Usurpations at home, or be­come an easie Prey to Foreign Conquerors. A corrupted state of Mankind is well prepared to be a Scene of Slavery. Liber­ty cannot be maintained, but by Vertue, Temperance, mode­rate Desires, and contented Minds: And since those are not to be attained to but by Reli­gion, this is an uncontested, [Page 149] Truth, That Liberty and Re­ligion live and die together.

ALL this and a deal more, both with relation to our selves, and to all that are round about us, was that which we thought we had a Right to expect from the continuance of such a Reign: We thought that God had for­med Her by so many peculiar Characters, and conducted Her by so many happy Providences, that from all these we had some Right to conclude, that it would be lasting. The Apperances were of our side: For tho' She tempered the Cheerfulness of Youth, with the Gravity of Age, and the Seriousness even of old Age, yet Youth still smiled in [Page 150] Her Countenance, with so fresh an Air, that we thought Na­ture had not gone half its way; and had yet a long Career to to run. So firm a Health, so regular a Course of Life, and so calm a Temper, that exact­ness of Method, and punctual­ness to Hours, seemed to add a further Security to our Hopes: Nor did they stop under the Reign or Age of a Queen Eliza­beth.

WE felt so happy an Influ­ence from Her Example, as well as by Her Government, that e­ven under the Terror that Her Sickness gave us, we flattered our selves with the Hopes that God was only trying us, to give [Page 151] us a juster Value of so inestima­ble a Blessing, that so it might be restored to us with the more Advantage, and a higher Endear­ment. We could not let our selves think, that so terrible a Stroke was so near us. We who but a few Days before, had been fanoying, what our Childrens Children were to see in Her, were then driven to apprehend that our Sun was to set, before it had attained to its Noon. Then under the Darkness of that thick Cloud, every one be­gun to recollect what he had seen and observed in Her: And tho' some knew more than o­thers, yet every one knew e­nough, to strike him with A­mazement and Sorrow. Then [Page 152] Her whole Administration, as well as the privater Parts of Her Life was remembered: E­very one had somewhat to say, and all added to the common Stock, and increased the general Lamentation.

IT is true, a Veil ought here to be drawn, over that which is Sacred. The Secrets of Go­vernment are so; and must not break out, till the proper time comes of recording them, and of delivering them down to Po­sterity: And then we know what a Figure Her History must make. But in this way, and under the due Reserves of speak­ing of present Things, some­what may be ventured on, with­out [Page 153] breaking in too far. Her Punctualness to Hours, Her Pa­tience in Audiences, Her Gen­tleness in Commanding, Her Reservedness in Speaking, Her Caution in Promising, Her Soft­ness in finding Fault, Her Rea­diness in Rewarding, Her Di­ligence in Ordering, Her Heark­ening to all that was Suggested, and the copious Accounts that She gave to Him whom both God, and Her own Choice, had made her Oracle, were every one of them surprising; but al­together they seemed to look ra­ther like the Idea of what ought to be; than that which could in Reason be expected from any one Person. It might have been supposed that Her [Page 154] whole Time must have gone to this. If many other Things had been omitted, it was that which must have been well al­lowed of: But that there might be a fulness of Leisure for eve­ry thing, the Day was early be­gun; She had many Hours to spare; and nothing was done in haste; no Hurry nor Impa­tience appeared. Her Devoti­ons, both private and publick, were not so much as short­ned; and She found time enough for keeping up the Cheerfulness of a Court, and for admitting all Persons to Her. She was not so wholly possessed by the greatest Cares, that She forgot the smallest. Those who are exact in little Things, general­ly [Page 155] trifle in great ones: And those who mind great Things, think they have a Right to neglect smaller ones: They think they should rather be les­sened if they were too exact in them. But it was a new thing to see one, who never forgot Things, which She her self esteemed but Trifles, and which She managed with so be­coming a Grace, that even in these she preserved her own Character; yet to carry on the great Concerns of Government with so firm a Conduct, and such an Air of Majesty.

IF any thing was ever found in Her, that might seem to fall too low, it was that Her Hu­mility [Page 156] and Modesty did really depress Her too much, in her own Eyes: And that she might too soon be made to think, That the Reasons which were offered to Her by others, were better than Her own. But e­ven this, was only in such Mat­ters, in which the want of Pra­ctice, might make that modest Distrust seem more reasonable: And when she did see nothing in that which was before Her, in which Conscience had any share; for whensoever that ap­peared, She was firm and un­movable.

HER Administration had a peculiar Happiness attending on it: We had Reason to believe [Page 157] that it went the better with us upon Her Account. There was somewhat in her Self, that dis­armed many of her Enemies; such of them as came near Her, were soon conquered by Her: While the Dexterity and Se­crecy of her Conduct, defeated the Designs of those, who were restless and implacable. We seemed once to be much ex­posed: Unprosperous Accidents at Sea, gave our Enemies the appearance of a Triumph: They lay along our Coasts, and were for some time the Masters of our Seas. But a secret Guard seemed then to environ us: All the Harm that they did us, in one Instance of Barbarity, That shewed what our general Treat­ment [Page 158] might probably have been, if we had become a Prey to them, did us little hurt: It seem­ed rather suffered by Heaven, to unite us against them. The Nation lost no Courage by it: Their Zeal was the more in­flamed. This was Her first essay of Government: But then, She, who upon ordinary Occa­sions, was not out of Counte­nance to own a Fear that did not misbecome Her, did now when a visible Danger threatned her, shew a firmness of Mind, and a composedness of Behavi­our, that made the Men of the clearest Courage ashamed of themselves. She covered the in­ward Apprehensions that she had, with such an equality of [Page 159] Behaviour, that She seemed a­fraid of nothing, when She had Reason to fear the worst that could happen. She was re­solved, if Things should have gone to Extremities, to have ven­tured her Self with her People, and either to have preserved them, or to have perished with them.

THIS was such a beginning of the Exercise of Royal Pow­er, as might for ever have gi­ven Her a disgust of it. She seemed all the while to possess her Soul in Patience; and to live in a constant resignation of her Self to the Will of God, without any Anxiety concerning Events. The happy News of a [Page 160] a great Victory, and of a grea­ter Preservation of His Maje­sty's Sacred Person, from the su­rest Instruments of Death, which seemed to be sent with that Di­rection, that it might shew the immediate Watchfulness of Pro­vidence about Him; did soon change the Scene, and put ano­ther Face on our Affairs. She only seemed the least changed; she looked more Cheerful, but with the same Tranquility: The appearances of it had never left Her. Nor was it a small Ad­dition to her Joy, that another Person, for whom She still re­tained profound Regards, was also preserved. She was a true Sabine in the Case: And tho' She was no Part of the Cause [Page 161] of the War, yet she would willingly have sacrificed Her own Life, to have preserved either of Those, that seemed to be then in Danger. She spake of that Matter, two Days after the News came, with so tender a sense of the Goodness of God to Her, in it, that it drew Tears from Her: And then She freely confessed, ‘That her Heart had trembled, not so much from the Apprehen­sion of the Danger, that She her Self was in, as from the Scene that was then in Action at the Boyne: God had heard Her Prayers, and she blessed him for it, with as sensible a Joy, as for any thing that had ever happened to Her.’

[Page 162]THE next Season of Her Administration concluded the Reduction of Ireland. The expectations of Success there, were once so much sunk, that it seemed that that Island was to be yet, for another Year, a Field of Blood, and a Heap of Ashes. She laid the Blame of this in a great measure, on the Licencious­ness and other Disorders, that she heard had rather increa­sed, than abated among them. A sudden turn came from a bold but necessary Resoluti­on: That was executed as gal­lantly, as it was generously un­dertaken. In the face of a great Army, a handful of Men [Page 163] passed a deep River, forced a Town, and made the Enemy to retire in haste. All Poste­rity will reckon this, among the most signal Performances of War. An Instance that shewed how far Courage could go; and what brave Men, well led on, could do. A great Victory followed a few Days after: The Suc­cess of the Action was at so long and so doubtful a stand, that there was just Reason to belileve, that pure Hands lifted up to Heaven, might have great Influence, and might have gi­ven the turn: From that time, Success was less doubtful. All was concluded with the hap­py Reduction of the whole [Page 164] Island. The Reflections that She made on this, looked the same way that all her Thoughts did. ‘Our Forces elsewhere, both at Sea and Land, were thought to be considerable, and so promi­sing, that we were in great Hopes of somewhat that might be decisive: Only Ire­land was apprehended to be too weakly furnished, for a concluding Campaigne: Yet so different are the Methods of Providence, from humane Expectations, that nothing memorable happened any where, but only in Ireland, where little or nothing was expected.’

[Page 165]SHE was again at the Helm when we were threat­ned with a Descent, and an Invasion: Which was con­ducted with that Secrecy, that we were in danger of being surprised by it, when our Pre­parations at Sea were not fi­nished, and our Force at Land was not considerable. The struggle was like to have been formidable: And there was a particular Violence to be done to her Self, by reason of Him, who was to have conducted it. Then we felt new Proofs of the Watchfulness of Hea­ven. What comes immedi­ately from Causes that fall not under humane Counsels, [Page 166] nor can be redressed by Skill or Force, may well be ascri­bed to the Specialities of Pro­vidence: And the rather, if Nature seems to go out of its Course, and Seasons change their ordinary Face. A long uninterrupted continuance of boisterous Weather, that came from the Point, that was most contrary to their Designs, made the Project impractica­ble. A succession of turns of Weather followed after that, happily to us; and as fatal­ly to them. While the same Wind that stopp'd their Fleets, joined ours. It went not out of that Direction, till it end­ed in one of the most glori­ous Actions that ever England [Page 167] had: And then those who were brought together to invade us, were forced to be the me­lancholy Spectators of the De­struction of the best part of that Fleet, on which all their Hope was built. In that, without detracting either from the Gallantry of our Men, or the Conduct of our Admi­ral, it must be acknowledged that Providence had the lar­gest share: And if we may presume to enter into those Secrets, and to judge of the hidden Causes of them; we may well conclude, that Her Piety and Her Prayers contri­buted not a little to it.

[Page 168]SHE bore Success, with the same Decency that appeared when the Sky seemed to be more clouded. So firm a si­tuation of Mind, as She had, seemed to be above the Pow­er of Accidents of any sort whatsoever. Clouds returned again in another Year of Her Administration; tho' not with a Face that was quite so black. She thought God was Angry with us: And it was not hard to find out a Reason to ju­stifie the severest of his Pro­vidences.

IT seemed much more ac­countable, that our Affairs should have met with some [Page 169] unhappy Interruptions, than that so many Blessings should have attended upon us: She had a tender Sense of any thing that look'd like a Mis­carriage, under Her Conduct, and was afraid lest some Mistake of Hers might have occasion­ed it. When Difficulties grew too hard to be extricated, and that She felt an uneasiness in them, She made God Her re­fuge; and tho' She had nei­ther the Principles nor the Temper of an Enthusiast, yet She often owned that She felt a full Calm upon her Thoughts, after She had given them a free vent before God in Pray­er.

[Page 170]WHEN sad Accidents came from the immediate Hand of Heaven, particularly on the occasion of a great Loss at Sea; She said, ‘Tho' there was no occasion for Com­plaint or Anger upon these, yet there was a juster Cause of Grief, since God's Hand was to be seen so particular­ly in them.’ Sometimes She feared there might be some secret Sins, that might lie at the Root, and blast all: But She went soon off from that, and said, ‘where so much was visible, there was no need of Divination concerning that which might be hidden.’

[Page 171]WHEN the Sky grew clear­er, and in Her more prospe­rous Days, She was never lift­ed up. A great Resolution was taken, which has since changed the Scene very visi­bly: It has not only asserted a Dominion over those Seas, which we claim as our own, but has for the present, as­sumed a more extended Em­pire; while we are Masters both of the Ocean and the Me­diterranean; and have out E­nemies Coasts, as well as the Seas, open to us. She had too tender a Heart to take a­ny real Satisfaction in the De­struction of their Towns, or the Ruine of their poor and [Page 172] innocent Inhabitants. She spake of this with true Indig­nation, at those who had be­gun such Practices, even in full Peace; or after Protections had been given. She was sor­ry that the state of War made it necessary, to restrain ano­ther Prince, from such Barba­rities, by making himself feel the Effects of them; and there­fore she said, ‘She hoped, that such Practices should become so odious, in all that should begin them, and by their do­ing so, force others to retali­ate, that for the future, they should be for ever laid a­side.’

[Page 173]WHEN Her Affairs had a­nother Face, She grew not se­cure, nor went She off from Her dependance upon God. In all the Pleasures of Life, She maintained a true Indif­ference for the Continuance of them; and She seemed to think of parting with them, in so easie a manner, that it plainly appeared how little they had got into Her Heart: She had no occasion for these Thoughts, from any other Principle, but a mere disgust of Life, and the aspiring to a better. She apprehended she felt once or twice, such In­dispositions upon Her, that she concluded Nature was [Page 174] working towards some great Sickness; so She set her self to take full and broad views of Death, that from thence She might judge, how She should be able to encounter it. But She felt so quiet an Indiffe­rence upon that Prospect, lean­ing rather towards the desire of a Dissolution, that she said, ‘Tho' She did not pray for Death, yet she could nei­ther wish nor pray against it. She left that before God, and referred her Self entire­ly to the Disposal of Pro­vidence. If She did not wish for Death, yet She did not fear it.’

[Page 175]As this was Her Temper, when she viewed it at some distance; so she maintained the same Calm, when, in the closest struggle with it. Here Darkness and Horrour fall upon me: For who can look through that Scene, so uncon­cerned as She went through it? I know if I would write according to the Rules of Art, I should draw a Veil here; and leave the Reader to imagine that, which no Pen can properly express. E­very thing must seem flat here; upon a Subject, that gives a Flame, too high to be either managed or described. But it is Nature and not Art [Page 176] that governs me. I will there­fore go through what remains, tho' without the Force or Flight that it seems to com­mand: I will do it, tho' but faintly, with a Feebleness suita­ble to the Temper of my own Mind, without any anxi­ous study to manage so poor a Thing, as the Credit of writing in proportion to the Sublimity of the Subject. Let the Matter it self speak: That will have a Force, that will sup­ply all Defects.

SHE only was Calm; when all was in a Storm about Her: The dismal Sighs of all that came near Her, could not dis­compose Her. She was ri­sing [Page 177] so fast above Mortality, that even He who was more to Her, than all the World besides, and to all whose Thoughts She had been upon every other Occasion entire­ly resigned, could not now inspire Her with any De­sires of returning back to Life. Her Mind seemed to be dis-entangling it self from Her Body, and so She rose above that Tenderness, that went deeper in Her, than all other earthly Things whatso­ever. It seemed all that was Mortal was falling off, when that could give Her no un­easiness.

[Page 178]SHE received the Intima­tions of approaching Death, with a Firmness that did nei­ther bend nor soften, under that, which has made the strongest Minds to tremble. Then, when even the most Artificial grow Sincere, it ap­peared how established a Calm and how sublime a Piety pos­sessed Her. A ready Willing­ness to be dissolved, and an entire Resignation to the Will of God, did not forsake Her one Minute: nor had any thing been left to be dispatch­ed in her last Hours. Her Mind was in no hurry, but soft as the still Voice, that seemed to be calling her Soul [Page 179] away to the Regions above. So that She made Her last Steps, with a Stability and Seriousness, that how little or­dinary soever they may be, were indeed the natural Con­clusions of such a Life, as she had led.

BUT how quiet soever She was, the News of her Dan­ger struck the whole Nation, as well as the Town, with so astonishing a Terrour, as if Thunders and Earthquakes had been shaking both Heaven and Earth. Blackness then dwelt on every Face: A silent Con­fusion of Look, bursting out often into Tears and Sighs, was so Universal, and looked [Page 180] with so solemn an Air, that how much soever She deser­ved the Affections of the Na­tion, yet we never thought that She possessed them so en­tirely, as appeared in those Days of Sorrow. It was a Season of great Joy: We were Celebrating that Blessed Na­tivity, that gave us all Life, and the Hopes of a Blessed Immortality. But it was a sad Interruption, to that Sa­cred Festivity, when we were alarmed with those fright­ful Apprehensions. We were once revived, with the Hopes of a less formidable Sickness. This spread a Joy, that was as high and universal, as our Grief had been. We were ea­sily [Page 181] enough brought to flat­ter our selves with the belief of that, which was so much wish'd for. But this went soon off: It was an ill-ground­ed Joy; the Clouds returned so much the blacker, by rea­son of that mistaken Inter­val. Then all that prayed upon any Account whatso­ever, re-doubled their Fer­vour, and cried out, Spare thy People, and give not thy He­ritage to reproach. We prayed for our Selves more than for Her, when we cried to God for her Life and Recovery: Both Priest and People, Rich and Poor, all Ranks and Sorts joined in this Litany. A uni­versal Groan was Echoed to [Page 182] those Prayers, through our Churches and Streets. We were afraid to ask after that Sacred Health; and yet we were impatient to know how it stood. It seemed our Sins cried louder than our Prayers: They were heard, and not the o­ther.

BUT how severely soever God intended to visit us, She was gently handled; She felt no inward depression nor sink­ing of Nature. She then de­clared that ‘She felt in Her Mind the Joys of a good Con­science, and the Powers of Religion, giving her Supports, which even the last Agonies could not shake:’ Her con­stant [Page 183] Softness to all about her never left Her. That was in­deed natural to Her, but by it, all saw visibly that nothing could put Her Mind out of its natural Situation, and usual Methods. A few Hours be­fore She breathed her last, when He who ministred to Her in the best Things, had conti­nued in a long Attendance a­bout Her, She was so free in her Thoughts, that apprehend­ing he might be weary, She commanded him to sit down: And repeated Her Orders till he obeyed them. A thing too mean in it self to be men­tioned, but that it shewed the Presence of her Mind, as well as the Sweetness of her Tem­per. [Page 184] Prayer was then Her con­stant Exercise, as oft as She was awake: And so sensible was the Refreshment that her Mind found in it, that She thought it did her more good, and gave even her Body more ease, than any thing that was done to Her. Nature sunk apace: She resolved to furnish Her self with the great Viaticum of Christians, the last Provisions for Her Journey: She received the Blessed Sacrament with a Devotion that inflamed, as well as it melted all those who saw it: After that great Act of Church-Communion was o­ver, She delivered her self up so entirely to Meditation, that She seemed scarce to mind a­ny [Page 185] thing else. She was then upon the Wing. Such was her Peace in Her latter end, that tho' the Symptoms shew­ed that Nature was much op­pressed, yet She scarce felt a­ny uneasiness from it. It was only from what She percei­ved was done to Her, and from those Intimations that were given her, that She judg­ed her Life to be in danger: But She scarce knew Her self to be sick, by any thing that She felt at Heart. Her bear­ing so much Sickness with so little Emotion, was for a while imputed to that undi­sturbed Quiet and Patience in which She possessed her Soul: But when She repeated it so [Page 186] often, that She felt her self well inwardly, then it appea­red that there was a particu­lar Blessing in so easie a Con­clusion of a Life, that had been led through a great variety of Accidents, with a constant equality of Tem­per.

THE last and hardest Step is now to be made: Our Ima­ginations, which must still be full of the Noblest and Au­gustest Idea's of Her, may be apt to represent Her to our Thoughts, as still alive, with all those Graces of Majesty and Sweetness that always ac­companied Her. But, alas! we are but too sure, that all [Page 187] this is the illusion of Fancy. She has left us; She is gone to those Blessed Seats a­bove: Where even Crowns and Thrones are but small Mat­ters, compared to that brigh­ter Glory, which rises far a­bove the Splendour of Tri­umphs, Processions, and Coro­nations.

THE measuring of so great a Change, and so vast an Ad­vancement in its full Lati­tude, as it is the properest Thought to mitigate our Sor­rows, so it seems to be too lively a one for us now, and above what we are capa­ble of, in our present De­pression. This may make us [Page 188] conclude with a sudden Tran­sport of Joy, that She is Hap­py, unspeakable Happy, by the Change: And has risen much higher above what She her self was a little while ago, than She was then above the rest of Mortals.

BUT black and genuine Horrour still returns, and seems to wrap us, and all things a­bout us, with so thick a Mist, that so bright a Thought, as that of Her present Glory, can­not break through it. While we are persuaded of her Hap­piness, and that She has gai­ned infinitely by the Change, yet Self-love is so strong, and Sense makes so powerful an [Page 189] Impression, that when we con­sider, what we have lost, in losing Her, we sink under our Burthen: Dispirited, as if our Life and Joy were gone with Her, as if black Night, and lasting Winter had chill'd all our Blood, and damp'd all our Powers.

IT may seem a needless Se­verity to aggravate all this, as if we were not enough loaded already: But that a further black Scene must be opened: And that we must be filled with the gloomy Prospect of that which we may but too justly and too reasonably look for. God seems to be making a way for [Page 190] his Anger: And to be remo­ving that Interposition which we have reason to believe did effectually stop those Mise­ries, for which we may well fear, that we are more than ripe.

WE are not quite aban­doned: God does still pre­serve Him to us, by whose Means only, considering our present Circumstances, we can hope either to be Safe or Hap­py. That Duty and Respect which was before divided, does now Centre all in Him. All that we payed Her, does now devolve to Him, by a Title that becomes so much the juster, because we have all [Page 191] seen (I wish we may not feel it,) how deep a Wound this made on Him, whose Mind has appeared hitherto Invulnerable, and where Firmness seemed to be the peculiar Character. It is indeed but natural that He who knew Her best should va­lue Her most. The best Tri­bute that we can offer to the Ashes of our Blessed Queen, is to double our Duty and our Zeal to Him, Whom She loved so entirely, and in whom Her Memory is still so fresh, that tho' for our own sakes we must be concerned to see it sink so deep; Yet for His sake, we cannot but be plea­sed to see, how much His Cha­racter rises, by the just Ac­knowledgments [Page 192] He pays Her, and by that deep Affliction for Her loss, which has almost o­verwhelmed a Mind, that had kept its Ground in the hardest shocks of Fortune, but lost it here.

IF our Apprehensions of His Sacred Life, grow now more tender, and we feel more sen­sibly than formerly, that it is He who makes us Safe at home, as well as Great abroad; if we do now see, what is that In­terposition that is now left, and that keeps off Misery and Destruction from breaking in upon us, as the Sea, to swal­low us up; if that Life it self is so often exposed, that this cre­ates [Page 193] a new Cloud upon our Minds; gloomy and black, as if charged with Storm and Thunder; If all this gives us a melancholy Prospect; we know that nothing can divert or dissipate it, but our turning from our Sins, which lay us so naked, which have brought one severe Stroke already on us, and by which God may be yet further provoked to visit us again. Another Stroke must make an end of us.

To conclude.

THE truest as well as the usefullest way of lamenting this Loss, is, after that we have given somewhat to Nature, and have let Sorrow have a free [Page 194] course, then to recollect our Thoughts, and to study to imi­tate those Vertues and Perfe­ctions which we admired in Her; and for which her Me­mory must be ever Precious among us: Precious, as Oint­ment poured forth, ever Savoury and Fragrant.

HER Death has indeed spread a melting Tenderness, and a flowing Sorrow over the whole Nation, beyond any thing we ever saw; which does in some measure bear a Proportion to the just occasion of it: How dismal soever this may look; yet it is some Satisfaction to see that just Respects are paid Her Memory, and that our Mournings are as deep as they [Page 195] are universal. They have broke out in the solemnest as well as in the decentest manner: Those August Bodies that represent the whole, began them: And from them they have gone round the Nation, in genuine and native Strains, free and not emendicated. But if this should have its chief and best Effect, to drive the Impressions of Religion and the Tetrours of God, deeper into us, than we might hope, that even this fatal Stroke, as terrible and threatning as it now looks, might produce great and even happy Ef­fects: So different may E­vents be, from the Causes, or at least from the Occasions of them.

[Page 196]HOW lowering soever the Sky may now seem, a ge­neral Repentance, and a sin­cere Reformation of Man­ners, would soon give it ano­ther Face: It would break through those Clouds that seem now to be big, and even ready to burst: If this is too much to be expected; yet if there were but a few, that did heartily go into good Designs, even they, might procure to us a lengthening out of our Tranquillity, and a mitigation of our Miseries: and that, tho' they were fixed on us, by irre­versible Decrees. A number of true Mourners might hope at least to stop their Course, till they themselves should die [Page 197] in Peace; or they might look for a milder Fate, if they should happen to be involved in a common Calamity.

Mark the Perfect, and behold the Upright, for their End is Peace.