I AM to present you with one of that rare temperance and abstinence, that the times past, those present, or those to come, neither have already, can now, or but with great dif­ficulty, may hereafter yeeld a more rare president. It is said of Fredericke the third Emperor, that when the Physitians told him, that his Empresse Augusta Leonora (being then barren) if she would drinke Wine, (from which shee had abstained from her youth) in these cold parts of [Page] Germany, she might easily have issue: The Emperor after some pause assented there­unto, but said withall: Malim uxorem sterilem, quam vinosam, I had rather have a wife subiect to sterility, than vinosity: which being told unto to her, she made answer, True it is, that I am bound in al things to obey the will of my Lord and husband the Emperor; but if on one side he would set Wine and Life, and on the other my Deniall and Death: I wish rather to die, than to drinke it.

Of abstinence there be foure kindes: Natural, Miraculous, Violent, and Volun­tary: we call that naturall, when ei­ther by nature we abhorre certaine meats, though we be then in good and per­fect health, betwixt which and us, there is an antipathy, or else, when by some distaste or disease in the stomacke, wee loath such things, as our eyes can scarce endure to looke upon, much lesse our palets to taste, and that is the first sort of abstinence: the second are such super­naturall [Page] fasts, which we reade of the Saints of God, Moses, and Elias, and of Christ himselfe in the wildernesse; all which were for the space of forty dayes to­gether; and these are rather for our ad­miration, than our imitation. The third, is violent, or compeld, when we fast be­cause we have not wherewith to eat, as it hapneth in famine & scarcity. The fourth, and last is voluntary, which wee under­goe by our owne counsaile and reason, and that is branched into divers sorts, as Physicall, Politicall, Religious, supersti­tious, &c. which are largely disputed of by the learned.

Fasting, saith one of the Fathers, pur­geth the minde, enlightneth the sences, subiects the flesh to the spirit, maketh the heart contrite and humble, disperseth the clouds of concupiscence, extinguishes the flames of lust, and strengthneth chasti­ty, keeping it within the secure bounds of sincerity and purity; it loveth not ver­bosity, it hateth superfluity, it despiseth [Page] insolency, it commends humility, and informeth a mans selfe of of his owne in­firmity: Fast and Almes are the two godly assistants unto prayer, and as Saint Gregory saith in his Homilies, such an ab­stinence God himselfe approveth, when that which thou takest from thy self, thou distributest to another, and when thy owne flesh is punished, the hungry sto­macke of thy needy neighbour is by thee replenished. He that will fast as he ought to doe, saith a learned Father, must be in prayer frequent, in iudging iust, in friend­ship faithfull, in iniuries patient, in con­tentions temperate, from filthy speaking an aliene, to evill deeds averse, in ban­quets continent, in charity simple, a­mongst the crafty cautelous, amongst the sad sorrowfull, amongst the evill spea­kers silent, amongst the humble equall, against the proud and contumacious da­ring, in suspicions sparing; for true absti­nence is not to forbeare meate, and to fol­low vanity, but it is rather to separate thy [Page] selfe from sinne and iniquity: Dost thou forbeare flesh, and yet wilt not make it scrupulous to feede upon thy brother? abstainest thou from wine, yet cannot re­fraine thy selfe from doing thy neighbor iniury? wilt thou taste no foode untill the evening, and spend the whole day in oppressing the fatherlesse and needy? it little profiteth thee to starve thy body by keeping it from necessary viands, if in the meane time thou surfeit thy soule with superfluity of vices.

Concerning the strange and strict rety­red & cloystered life which this Gentle­man lived; it cannot be said of him, as it was spoke of those, who tooke upon them a Monastick life of old, to be in the cloister with their bodies, & in the streets in their minde; now within, anon abroad; to sing one thing, to thinke another; to have a Psalme in their tongues, but not the sence in their heads; to be in heart despe­rate, in habit dissolute, to have wandring eies, & wavering thoughts, the shape of one [Page] religious, the substance of one that is ir­regular, and if he have but the Cucullus, (which the old Proverbe saith, non facit mo­nachum) the Hood which maketh not the Monk; all is safe, all is well, he apprehends no other hope, hee aimeth at no other happinesse.

If thou takest upon thee a retired life, what makest thou in the multitude? If thou dost professe silence, why pratest thou abroad amongst the people? If thou onely professest fast and reares, why dost thou at any time gurmundize or laugh? Of a retyred man, his simplicity is his Philosophy: but thou wilt say, that thy ambition is to teach and instruct others; thou oughtest rather to weepe for them, than to wrangle with them: but if thou dost cover to be a teacher, know thou what thou hast to doe; let the vilenesse of thy habite, the sincerity of thy coun­tenance, the innocency of thy life, and the sanctity of thy conversation be their ex­ample and president, and that is thy [Page] best Doctrine and Instruction.

These bee the words of an Ancient and Reverent Father: These our garments (which I weeping speake) ought onely to be the Emblemes of Humility, are worne by the separated men of these dayes in all pride and ostentation; nay, our owne Climes can scarcely afford us wherewith to apparrell our selves. For the Monke and the Martiall man from the same peece of cloth buyeth his Hood and his habite: But Sobriety and Solitude, with volunta­ry poverty, are the true Ensignes of all mo­nastick retirement: when those amongst us, which would pretend themselves to be reclusists, beare their eyes, which ought to be deiected upon the earth, to look still upon the world from whence they came, advance them up towards the Heavens, to looke upon that sublimity to which they can never attaine: when their feere, that should onely be confined to the Cloyster, tyre themselves in needlesse Iourneys, both in Court, City, and Countrey: when [Page] those Tongues that are vowed unto Taci­turnity and silence, are heard in all private and publicke counsells: and when those hands which are soly appropriated to sup­ply their owne necessities, are imployed to snatch away the patrimony of others.

But I come to a third thing most re­markable in this noble Gentleman, name­ly his Temperance, which I have read to be thus defined: A moderation of the de­sires, obedient to Reason; an affection binding and cohibiting the appetite; a mediocrity restrayning the lusts and de­sires of all carnall affections; a vertue which governeth all the motions of the minde and body, so farre, that they com­ply and agree with the order of persons, places, and times: The parts thereof are gentlenesse, liberality, gravity, sadnesse, severity, shamefastnesse, urbanity, friend­ship, benevolence, or good-will, concord, love, peace, continence, clemency, chari­ty, meekenesse, chastity, and honesty, moderation, taciturnity, frugality, parsi­mony, [Page] goodnesse, purity, and innocence. Shee is likewise that light which excel­leth the darknesse and obscurity of passi­ons; she is of all vertues that are the most wholesome; for as well publickly as pri­vately she doth perswade humane society; shee exalteth the Soule, (wretchedly throwne downe in vice) and restoreth her to her pristine place. Shee is moreover a mutuall consent of the Soule, causing all disorder and irregularity to take Reason for a rule, and discretion for a direction. Whosoever is neither puffed up with praise, nor afflicted with adversity, nor moved by slanders, nor corrupted by gifts, is fortunately temperate; for there is nothing in the world better than Mo­deration, for by it the assaults of the flesh are subdued, and the fruits of a good life are retained: it is rich in losses, confident in perills, prudent in assaults, and happy in it selfe.

It is the property of Justice not to vio­late the right of any man, and it is the [Page] Appendix of Temperance to offend no man. He cannot praise Temperance, who proposeth his chiefe felicity in Voluptuous­nesse and pleasure, because it is the grand enemy to riot and excesse. Solon telleth us, that it plucketh a man from all grosse af­fections, and carnall appetites, and letteth him not exceede either in foolish reioy­cing, nor ungodly sorrowing; for the pride of the flesh is to be curbed, and re­strained with the sharpe Bit of Abstinence: As no man can be temperate, unlesse with­all he be prudent: so no man can be held to be truely valiant, unlesse withall he be temperate. Nay more, Justice cannot sub­sist without it, because it is the chiefe point of a iust man to keepe his soule free from all perturbation: I conclude with that of Plotinus, Temperance is the Mother of all duty and honesty.

These three vertues we have strived to illustrate vnto your view, but how all these accidents meete in one subiect, is the Argument now in hand. Abstinence is a [Page] vertue, found in one man, but scarcely in another; solitude and retyrednesse of life in few, not in many; and Temperance and Continence may be imbraced by some, not by all; yet all these eminent lines meete in this one Center, as the circumstances following shall make apparently mani­fest.

This noble and vertuous Gentleman, M^r. Henry Welby, borne in Lincolne-shire, was the eldest sonne of his Father, and the inheritor of a faire revenue, amounting to a thousand pounds by the yeere, and upward; first metriculated in the Vniver­sity, and after made a Student in one of the Innes of Court, where being accom­modated with all the parts of a Gentle­man, hee after retyred himselfe into the Countrey, and matched nobly unto his good liking: but thinking with himselfe that the world could not possibly be con­tained within this Island, and that Eng­land was but the least peece and member of the whole body of the Vniverse, hee, [Page] (as many, or the most of our young gentlemen doe) had a great minde to travell, as well to profit him in expe­rience, as benefit himselfe in language, and to that purpose spent some few yeares in the Low Countryes, Germany, France, and Italy, making the best use of his time, and not like some phantasticke heads, learne onely to drinke with the Dutch-men, comple­mant with the French-men, some aiming onely to fetch Venus from Venice, others studying to steale Matchievel out of Flo­rence, and generally bringing home fashi­ons rather than faith, and many more vi­ces rather than vertues.

Others also by the change of the aire have tooke their advantage to change their religion, which is quite averse to the old Proverbe, Coelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt, such as crosse the seas, and travell from one Province unto another, though they receive new aire, yet keepe their old [Page] mindes: yet this was verified in him, who well knew no errour to bee so dangerous, as that which is commit­ted in Religion, because therein, and in the constant profession thereof, sub­sisteth our perpetuall happinesse, and e­ver-during felicity, for truth is the me­dicine to a troubled spirit; but if erro­niously taught, it turneth into mortife­rous poyson.

The ancient Fathers have given their especiall markes, by which, the true religi­on may be knowne. First, that it serveth the true and onely God. Secondly, that it serveth him according to his word. And thirdly, that it reconci­leth that man unto him, which unfeig­nedly followeth it: it is like an even square or ballance, the rule and Canon by which wee are to direct our lives, and the very touch-stone which dis­cerneth truth from falshood; moreo­ver, as vices border upon vertues, so superstition reflecteth upon religion, [Page] which Religion doth linke and unite us to serve one God with willingnesse and unanimity; it is the guide and con­duct of all other vertues, and they who doe not exercise themselves therein, ther­by to resist and oppose all false and erro­nious opinions, are but like those foo­lish and unexpert souldiers, who goe to warre without weapons: now if all men (as this Gentleman) would but study the truth, and strive to persevere therein, the voluptuous man would therein seeke his pleasure, the gormundizer his surfeit, the proud man his ostent, the avaritious man his wealth, the ambitious man his glory; for it is the onely mediocrity that can fill the vacuum, and emptinesse of the heart, and sate and satisfie the desire; it serveth also for a skilfull Pilot to direct us the way to heaven: when as the contra­ry, is that blinde guide, which leadeth us the broad and spacious passage to hell: Briefly, those men may be truely tearmed religious, who refusing the [Page] vaine and transitory pleasures of the world, wholly set their thoughts and mindes on divine contemplations: and so much for his religion.

Now courage and courtesie are the two principal decorements that adorne a gen­tleman, in neither of which he was any way deficient: For the first, as he was e­ver farre from giving any distaste, so hee was never knowne to take any affront; for valour consisteth not in hazarding a mans person without feare, but to put on a noble resolution in a iust cause; neither could this gentleman beare himselfe so innocuously in his youth, but that he hath beene inforc't to make proofe of his valor in the field, in which he still came off with honour and advantage, but never boasting when he had the better, but still sparing, when he might have spoi­led, holding this maxime, that to con­quer is naturall, but to pitty heavenly; and it is the property of true courage to out-face danger, conquer by custome, [Page] and end with honour: it contemneth all perills, despiseth calamities, and con­quers death: Quemcunque magnanimum vide­ris, miserum neges, None that is magnanimous can be miserable.

Bias holding warre with Iphicrates King of Athens, and by the disaster of Warre being round invironed by his enemies, and his souldiers thronging about him, and asking very timorously what hee would advise them in that extremity to doe, with a bold and undaunted courage answered them againe, Leave me, and seeke your owne safeties if you be so minded, and make report to those that are alive, that your Generall dyed with courage fighting, and I will tell to the dead that you escaped from death basely and co­wardly flying. But from his courage, I come to his courtesie.

It is a true saying, as a Tree is knowne by its Fruit, the Gold by the Touch, and a Bell by the Sound, so is a mans Birth by his bounty; his honour by his humility, and his calling by his courtesie, which [Page] not onely draweth unto us the love of strangers, but the liking of our owne Country-men: Mildnesse and Courtesie are the Characters of an happy soule, which never suffereth Innocence to be op­pressed. Proud lookes loose hearts, but kind words gaine affections: That which is call'd common courtesie, is held to be no courtesie; for hee that is alike kind to all, can be loving to none; for that which is generall, cannot be drawne within the limit of a particular: But the rigour of Discipline managing and directing this vertue, and it, againe, being governed by order and discretion, the one will illu­strate and commend the other; so that neither rigour shall seeme rough, nor courtesie contemptible; for it standeth in the stead of a moderate temperance, dec­king and adorning a man with mildnesse and generosity: for as it is the true note of Nobility, so it is the certaine marke of a Gentleman, to be courteous to strangers, patient in iniuries, and constant in the [Page] performance of all iust promises; and for these he was knowne to be remarkable.

To these, give me leave to adde some­thing of his liberality and bounty, whose best honour is in relieving the poore, and greatest Happinesse in living in the thoughts of good men: and he well consi­dered with himselfe, that the charity of a liberall man more benefitteth the giver than the receiver. For bounty in giving fraile and mortall things here upon earth, receiveth immortall meede and reward in Heaven. Hee that is able to give, and giveth not, (saith the Emperour Aurelius) is no bet­ter than an enemy; and he that promiseth a pre­sent benefit, and delayeth the performance thereof, is a suspicious friend. It is an old saying, There is no greater folly, than to conferre a courtesie up­on an old man, or a childe, the one being likely to dye before he can requite it, the other being so young, that he is not able to remember it: But his bounty was knowne to be free, wil­ling, and without respect of Age, Sexe, or persons. But such is the corruptnesse and [Page] abuse of these times, that the memory of a benefit doth soone vanish away, but the remembrance of an iniury will sticke in the heart for ever. But this is a Law that ought to be observed betwixt the giver and the receiver, that the one should in­stantly forget the gift hee hath bestowed, and the other should alwayes have it in re­membrance: It also becommeth him much better to hold his peace that giveth a reward, that it becommeth him to be si­lent, that receiveth a benefit. But his libe­rality (as Cicero ingeniously confesseth) consisted in giving with iudgement.

This was the manner of his behaviour and carriage of life for the space of Forty yeeres, (I meane till hee arrived at that age) being respected by the rich, prayed for by the poore, and indeed, generally belov'd; having a Daughter beauteous and vertuous, furnish't with all the accom­plishment that either Nature could give, or Education and Instruction adorne and re­ctifie, who was espoused to a Sir Christo­pher Hilliard in Yorke­shire. Knight of [Page] good descent, and a noble Family, to the Fathers great ioy and comfort: but as all mundane happinesse is fading, and all earthly delights transitory, to day wax­ing, to morrow withering; now flou­rishing, and anon flagging: so it fared with this worthy Gentleman, who late invironed with all the felicity and con­tentments of this world, was almost in a moment abandon'd and retired from all the pleasures and delights of the world.

The occasion whereof, (some say) was the unkindnesse, or (which I may rather tearme it) the unnaturalnesse and inhu­manity of a younger brother, who upon some discontent or displeasure conceived against him, rashly and resolutely threat­ned his Death: But this innocent Gen­tleman measuring the dispositions of o­thers by himselfe, and not imagining such barbarous cruelty could be in man, of what condition soever, much lesse in a Brother, hee held them as the rash mena­ces [Page] of unbridled youth, which by good counsel, or complying with the others de­sires, might be easily reclaimed, reckon­ing them as words that would never breake into wounds, and doubtfull lan­guage that could not easily beget danger: and as true Innocence goeth still arm'd with confidence, and he that is guiltlesse, still dreadlesse; so hee neither feared his courage, nor shunned his company, till at the length the two Brothers meeting face to face, the younger drew a Pistoll charged with a double Bullet from his side, and presented upon the elder, which onely gave fire, but by the mi­raculous providence of GOD no fur­ther report: at which the elder sei­zing upon the younger, disarmed him of his tormentary Engine, and without any further violence offered, so left him: which bearing to his chamber, and de­sirous to finde whether it were onely a false fire, meerely to fright him; or a charge, speedily to dispatch him: when [Page] he found the Bullets, and apprehended the danger hee had escap't, hee fell into many deepe considerations: For wise men will alwayes use circumspections, and first consider what to doe, before they conclude any thing: Now the causes that beget this deliberation and counsell with our selves, are feare, care, necessity, and af­fection: Feare afflicteth, care compelleth, necessity bindeth, affection woundeth: his feare afflicted him, lest hazarding himselfe to the like danger, he might be the occasion of shortning his owne inno­cent life, and hastening his brothers shamefull and infamous death: his care compell'd him by his future cautelous carriage to prevent both: necessity bound him in meere fraternall piety, to prevent all future occasions that might preiudise either of them in so high and horrid a na­ture: and lastly, his affection so farre and so deepely wounded him, that since, where he expected the love of a Brother, hee had found the malice of an enemy, [Page] since hee could not enioy his face with safety, he would ever after deny the sight of his owne face to all men whatsoever.

And upon the former considerations he grounded this irrevocable resolution, which he kept to his dying day; which that he might the better observe, he took a very faire House in the lower end of Grub-streete, neare unto Cripple-gate, and having contracted a numerous retinue in­to a private and small family, having the house before prepared for his purpose, hee entred the doore, chusing to him­selfe out of all the roomes three private chambers, best suiting with his intended solitude: The first for his Diet, the second for his Lodging, and the third for his Study, one within another: and the while his Dyet was set on the Table by one of his servants an old Mayd, hee rety­red into his lodging-chamber, and while his Bed was making, unto his Study, still doing so, till all was cleare: and there he set up his rest, and in Forty foure yeeres [Page] never, upon any occasion, how great so­ever, issued out of those chambers, till he was borne thence upon mens shoulders; neither in all that time did Sonne in law, Daughter, or Grand-child, Brother, Sister, or Kinsman, stranger, Tenant, or servant, young, or old, rich, or poore, of what degree or condition soever, looke upon his face, saving the ancient Maid, whose name was Elizabeth, who made his fire, prepared his bed, provided his dyet, and drest his Chamber; which was very sel­dome, or upon an extraordinary necessity that he saw her; which Maid-servant dyed not above sixe dayes before him.

As touching his Abstinence in all the time of his retirement, hee never tasted Flesh, nor Fish; hee never dranke either Wine, or strong water; his chiefe food was Oat-meale boyled with water, which some call Gruell; and in Summer, now and then a Sallet of some choise coole hearbs. For dainties, or when hee would feast himselfe upon an high day, [Page] he would eate the yelke of an hens egge, but no part of the white; and what bread he did eat, he cut out of the middle part of the loafe, but of the crust he ne­ver tasted; and his continuall drinke was foure shillings beere, and no other; and now and then, when his stomacke ser­ved him, he did eate some kinde of suc­kets; and now and then dranke redde Cowes milke, which his maid Elizabeth fetcht for him out of the fields hot from the Cow: and yet he kept a bountifull table for his servants, with entertainment sufficient for any stranger or tenant, that had any occasion of businesse at his house.

In Christmas holy-dayes, at Easter, and upon all solemne festivall dayes, he had great cheare provided, with all dishes seasonable with the times, served in­to his owne Chamber with store of wine, which his maid brought in; when he himselfe (after thanks given unto God for his good benefits) would [Page] pinne a cleane Napkin before him, and putting on a paire of white holland sleeves, which reached to his elbowes, call for his knife, and cutting dish after dish up in order, send one to one poore neighbour, the next to another, whe­ther it were Brawne, Beefe, Capon, Goose, &c. till hee had left the table quite empty: Then would he give thanks againe, lay by his linnen, put up his knife againe, and cause the cloath to be taken away; and this would he doe Dinner and Supper upon these dayes without tasting one morsell of any thing whatsoever; and this cu­stome he kept to his dying day, an abstinence farre transcending all the Carthusean Monkes, or Mendicant Fryars, that I ever yet could read of.

Now as touching the solitude of his life, to spend so many Summers and Winters in one small or narrow roome, dividing himselfe not onely from the [Page] society of men, but debarring himselfe from the benefit of the fresh and com­fortable aire; not to walke or to confer with any man, which might either shorten the tediousnesse of the night, or mitigate the prolixnesse of the day: what retirement could be more? or what restriction greater? in my opinion it far surpasseth all the Vestals and Votaries, all the Ancresses and Authors that have beene memorized in any Hystory. Now if any shall aske me how he past his houres, and spent his time? no doubt, as he kept a kinde of perpetuall fast, so hee devoted himselfe unto continuall prayer, saving those seasons which hee dedicated to his study; for you must know, that hee was both a Scholler and a Linguist; neither was there any Author worth the reading, either brought over from beyond the seas, or publisht here in the kingdome, which he refused to buy, at what deare rate soever; and these were his companions in [Page] the day, and his Councellors in the night; insomuch, that the saying may bee verified of him, Nunquam minus solus, quam cum solus: He was never better accompanied, or lesse alone, then when alone.

I need not speak much of his conti­nence, since that doth necessarily include it selfe in the former. Abstinence is a fast from meates and vice, but continence is a continuance in all the foure cardinall vertues: what should I say? his continence he exprest in the time he lived in the world, and his abstinence in the greater part of his age, after he had separated him­selfe from the world: every man is known by his actions; neither is any man to bee accounted a good man for his age, but for his charitable deedes; it is most true in­deed, that such an one as we call good, is better than the good he doth, and a wic­ked man is worse than the evill that he is able to doe. But in this gentleman, the thing most worthy our observation is, [Page] that he, who was borne to so faire for­tunes, and might have enioyed prosperi­ty, for his soules sake, and to enioy the pleasures of a future world, should study adversity; to have much, and enioy little; to be the Lord of all, and a servant to all; to provide for others to eate, whilst hee prepared himselfe to fast; and out of his great plenty to supply others, whilst him­selfe wanted: and so much for his great continence; but all this while I am come to no particulars of his charity.

Charity (saith Saint Chrysostome) is the scope of all Gods commandements: it ransometh from sinne, and delivereth from death: for as the body without the soule can enioy no life, so all other vertues without charity, are meerely cold and fruitlesse: she in adversity is patient, in prosperity temperate, in passions strong, in good workes active, in temperance secure, in hospitality bountifull, amongst her true chil­dren ioyfull, amongst her false friends [Page] patient; and the onely measure to love God, is to love him without measure: moreover, it maketh a man absolute and perfect in all other vertues, for there is no vertue perfect without love, nor any love that can be truely sincere with­out charity: a poore man being in cha­rity is rich, but a rich man without cha­rity is poore: Charity and Pride both feed the poore, but after divers sorts; the one to the praise and glory of God, the other to purchase praise and glory with men; the first concerneth him, the latter not.

He was no Pharisee, to seeke the praise and vaine ostent amongst men; neither did he blow a trumpet before him when he gave his almes; neither when any impudently clamord at his gate, were they therefore immediately releeved; but hee out of his private chamber, which had a prospect into the streete, if he spyed any sicke, weake, or lame, would presently send after them, to [Page] comfort, cherish, and strengthen them, and not a trifle to serve them for the present, but so much as would releeve them many dayes after. Hee would moreover inquire, what neighbours were industrious in their callings, and who had great charge of children, and withall, if their labour and industry could not sufficiently supply their fa­milies; to such he would liberally send, and releeve them according to their ne­cessities; and this was charity as it ought to bee; for so our best Divines have defi­ned it.

I cannot reckon up the least of infi­nites in this nature done by him, and therefore I leave them to the favou­rable consideration of the charitable and understanding Reader, thus concluding, He may not improperly be cal'd a Phoe­nix: for as in his life he might be tear­med a Bird of Paradise, so in his death he might be compared to that Arabian Monady, who having lived fourescore and [Page] foure yeares, halfe in the world, and halfe from the world, built his owne fune­rall nest or pile, composed of the Tebe­rinth and Cinnomon, inter-woven with Onix and Galbanum, with the sweete and odoriferous smells of Myrrh, Aloes, and Cassia; and so made his death-bed an Altar, and his godly zeale kindling those sweete spices, sent up his soule in an acceptable Incense, to that blessed and sacred Throne, where a contrite heart, and humble spirit were never despised.