MARIA II. GULIELMI III. MAG. BRIT. FRAN. ET HIB. REGIS UXOR ET CONSORS IMPERII. Nata 30 Aprils. 1662. Chiit 28 Decem. 1694. An. Aetat. 33.    

AN ESSAY ON THE MEMORY Of the Late QUEEN.  
BY GILBERT, Bishop of Sarum.  
LONDON, Printed for Ric. Chiswell, at the Rose and Crown, in St. Paul's Churchyard, MDCXCV.   

AN ESSAY ON THE MEMORY OF The late QUEEN.  
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 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 decked 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 Masterpiece of Nature, wrought up by all the Polishing 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 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 we feel a 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 itself some vent, and to procure to itself 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 choke us inwardly, and break out only in amazement, and in a wildness 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 wrapped 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 our thoughts to that dark and native horror 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 lodged? 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 Ideas and vast Designs form 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?  
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 Deal, 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. The cutting part of our Sorrow is this, That we have too good reason to believe that we have procured this to ourselves.  
UNLESS, according to the growing Impiety that spreads itself amongst us, we will conclude that God has forsaken the Earth, and that all things roll, 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 by which so great a Commotion of Mind may discharge itself, and instead of those wild and dejecting Apprehensions, which it may be apt to throw upon us, we ought to reduce ourselves 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 stroke 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 our being overflown by it, than 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 Shipwreck 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 itself, and feels Self-preservation to be too deeply wrought into its Composition, to be easily shaken 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 ourselves 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 Stoics; 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 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 Extremes 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 harkened to. Heathenism was fruitful in the Inventions of Fury, Hecatombs of living Creatures were thought poor Oblations: Humane Sacrifices were offered liberally on those 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 welcome Convoy to follow them thither. When the Civilising of the World and the Decencies first of Humanity, then of Philosophy, and chief when Revealed Religion came to soften and enlighten Men; those outrageous 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 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 contrived, that drew great Wealth into their Hands; and begat a Consideration for them, which, if it had not been overdone 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 of the other, made them very pliant to their Conduct, and implicit 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 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 sum 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 Virtue itself. It will probably go deeper, and have its best Effect upon us: It will engage us to love those Virtues in ourselves, which we admire in others, and will reproach us, if we commend that in another, which we take no care to imitate ourselves. 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 Virtues 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 dazzle, yet it enlightens, as well as it strikes.  
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 Virtue, 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 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' it may have Her Features. The Colours will seem to sink, when we remember how the Original itself looked.  
EXTRAORDINARY Degrees of Virtue 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 ourselves by Study and Observation, not to be flattered with the Hopes of seeing Ideas of Perfection on the Throne. It seems a Presumption to fancy that our own Times, should have a Privilege that former Ages could not boast. We find that even David, and Solomon much more, had Blemishes almost equal to their Virtues. Few of their Successors arrived at their Degree of Perfection; tho' they might have all their Alloy. Hezekiah and josiah 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 forget the rest. A full Picture of these would have one side so bright, with another so spotted, that the whole would look but oddly. 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 Emperors, the World would perhaps retract much of the admiration that it has paid them: And might be for some time in suspense, which side of the Character was superior, 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 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 joans 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 Emperor by the right of Marrying her. Amalazuntha has a nobler Character, it is indeed given her by 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 Castille. 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, in her Journeys 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 jane 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 Reform her Court, but her whole Principality to such a degree, that the Golden Age seemed to have returned under her; or rather, Christianity appeared again 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 Shadow, 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 shown 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 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 itself in Colonies, the increase of our Wealth, and the strength of our Fleets, own 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 own her Memory the profoundest acknowledgements; It was by her means, that the true Religion received its establishment among us. She delivered us from a Foreign Yoke; 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 own 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 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, and exert Her superiority of Genius in governing well at home, and giving Law to those about her. This had made the disposition to Salic 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 remembered 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.  
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 superior 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 her Advancement. She was not only better known in it, but there was a constant progress in her Virtues, even beyond that of Her Fortunes.  
YET after all this cannot so properly be called a Female Government: Though Sovereignty was in Her, it was also in Another: Her Administration supplied 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 Joint Tenure of the Throne could make them: There was an Union of their Thoughts as well as of their Persons; and 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 Sceptre 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, chief to the concerns of Religion and Virtue. 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 josiah, 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 Reign that had so entirely vitiated the Nation, that neither the Judgements 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. josiah 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 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 itself) was found: the dreadful Threaten in it struck josiah with a just horror. He sent to Huldah, a famed Prophetess, to see what comfort she could 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 Virtue: 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 the Day of Battle. His Death, upon his own single account, would have given the jews 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 remembered, 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 death, their Nation became an Astonishment, a Curse, and a Bye-word to all Nations. jerusalem was laid in Heaps, their Temple was razed 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 passed for one of the blackest and the most amazing Scenes in History.  
THAT pathetical Lamentation which jeremy writ upon it, has strains in it so tender and so moving, that no Man who has not hardened 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 can fall, a good Prince gives a full stop to those Judgements, 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 lose 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, than such an amazing Misery as accompanied the utter Ruin of the jewish Nation, aught 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 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 Virtues 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 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.  
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 hushed in silence: And then, that which will be now censured, as a 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 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 itself, could never find Matter to fix on, even so long, as to keep a doubtful Thought in suspense, is that which one may venture on, without the danger of overdoing 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 must be only mentioned, rather glanced at than enlarged on. The World is now so far beforehand 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 little too much Varnish; Like a nocturnal Piece, that has a Light cast through even the most shaded Parts: Some Disposition to set one's self out, and some Satisfaction in being commended, will at some time or other show itself, 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 itself. When due Acknowledgements were made, or decent Things were said, upon Occasions that had well deserved them, (God knows how frequent these were!) these seemed scarce to be heard: They were so little desired, that they were presently passed over; without so much as an Answer, that might seem to entertain the Discourse, even when it checked 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, 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 Public, 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 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 stolen 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 shows to be true; That no 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 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 Virtue, their Thoughts have risen too high for human Nature: Their Notions have become too fierce, and their Tempers too sullen and untractable: They have considered only what was good and desirable in itself, without regarding what the World could bear. They have not softened themselves enough into that agreeableness of Temper, that might give such an amiable prospect of Virtue, as should encourage the World to love and imitate it. Their Meditations have soured them too much: And, by an obstinate pursuing their own Ideas, 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 thing, because they could not hope to do every thing. Cato's Error has run through 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 admired so much. A charming Behaviour, a genuine Sweetness, and the Sprightliness, as well as the Freedom of good Humour, had softened all those frightful Apprehensions, that the World is too willing to entertain of the Severities of Virtue, and of the strictness of true Religion. Lesser matters were not much stood on: An easy 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 dwelled on her looks, discovered both the perfect Calm that was within, and shown the force as well as the amiableness of those Principles, which were the springs of so cheerful a Temper, and so lively a Deportment.  
THE freedom of Cheerfulness 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 oftenest, could never discover her Thoughts or Intentions further, than as She herself had a Mind to let them 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 showed in it, nor distaste given by it. It appeared to be no other, than that due reservedness which became her Elevation; and suited those Affairs that were to pass through her hands. When She saw cause for it, She had the truest Methods to oblige others to use all due freedom with Herself; while yet She kept them at a fit distance from Her own Thoughts.  
SHE would never take any Assistance from those Arts, that are become so common to great Posts, that some perhaps fancy them necessary: She did not cover Her Purposes by doubtful Expressions, or such general Words, as taken strictly do signify 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 intent 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 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 justify 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 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 Judgement, 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, 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, than we must acknowledge, that this is all that we can expect from our Nature, under its present depression. So few Instances of 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.  
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 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 concur 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, 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 jean 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, joined with so little appetite to it; so unwillingly assumed, so modestly managed, and so cheerfully laid down.  
THE clearness of her Apprehension, the presence of her Mind, the exactness of her Memory, the solidity of her Judgement, 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 spoke more exactly. She writ clear and short, with a true beauty and force of Style. 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; 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 easy to give amazing 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 Judgement: 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 harkened 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 Finishing we still wanted; and had dedicated Her Thoughts and Endeavours to the considering of the best Means that might both complete 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 ourselves; that we might with united Endeavours, set ourselves 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 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 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, 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 hid neither the Weakness of the one side, nor the Strength of the other from Her. When She delivered Her own Judgement, which She generally avoided to do, unless there was some necessity for it, She did it with that Modesty, as well as Exactness, that it shown 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, chief 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 dwelled on the best Subjects. So tender She was of Poetry, tho' much more of Virtue, 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 Mathematics, but She stopped 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 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 People's 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 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 Expense after it; She had no other Inclinations besides this, to any Diversions that were expenceful; and since this employed many hands, She was pleased to say, That She hoped it would be forgiven Her. Yet She was uneasy 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 of Work: And in all those hours that were not given to better Employments, 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 Employment given it, it would create some of the worst sort to itself: And She thought that any thing that might amuse and divert, without leaving a dreg and ill Impressions behind it, aught to fill up those vacant hours, that 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 Raillery, a greater step was made, than perhaps every one was ware of, to the bettering of the Age. While She diverted herself 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 was suited to the time of the Day, and to the Employment: 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 herself, 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 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 People's cost; or, to make the Misfortunes or Follies of others, the Matter of their Diversion. She scarce ever expressed a more entire 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 Virtue, 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 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 Herself, 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.  
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, chief to herself; 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 aught 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 Alloy, that needed Allowances to be made for it.  
I have dwelled 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 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 Bias lying still against that, which to vulgar Minds might seem to be Her Interest. She was convinced that the Public 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, aught 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 misguided Princes; whose Persuasion made them as cruel in imposing 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 Herself, 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 gaudy Lustre, could offer instead of it; but the saving of whole Nations seemed 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 course of Study, which had not been possible for Her to have compassed, if she had lived in the constant Dissipation of a Public 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 itself 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 than truly it was: But in that whole Matter she put a constraint upon herself (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 Virtue! and to so pure and so Angelical a Mind! Can 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!  
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 Public Offices, but to her Secret Retirements, was so regular a thing, that it was never put off, in the greatest Crowd of Business or little Journeys; then, tho' the Hour was anticipated, the Duty was never neglected: She took Care to be so early 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 Public 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 herself 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 out for Observation: And such care was taken to hid 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 show: Every thing was Sincere, as well as Solemn: And Genuine as well as Majestical.  
HER Attention to Sermons was so entire, that as her Eye never wandered from a good Preacher, so she shown 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 passed 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 herself, she infused that Temper into all that came near Her: Chief 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 Mistress 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.  
SHE had a true regard to Piety where ever She saw it, in what Form or Party soever. Her Judgement 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 strengthen ourselves 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 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 edify 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 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 Aspire 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 edify the Church. Every Instance of this kind gave her a sensible Wound, because it hardened bad Men in the contempt of Religion. She therefore charged those, whom She trusted most in such Matters, to look 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 Bias, 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, 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 extreme Poverty, that it was scarce possible, even by the help of a Plurality, to find a Subsistence in them. She had form 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; 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 Bigotry, lay at the bottom of all this. She did not Project any Part of it as an Art of Government, or 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 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 public, as their Crimes were. She would never suffer any to go away with a Conceit, that a Zeal for the 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 form 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 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. 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 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 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 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 Hypocrisy 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 josiah 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, 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 a-another 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 itself 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 Show, and made up of Pomp and Pageantry; that we were too bare and naked: And practised 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.  
PRINCE'S 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 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 deserved her Favour; and Compassionate towards those who wanted her Pity. It was easy 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 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 easy, and Her Deportment was so obliging; Her Life was such an 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, whose Constitution gives them naturally a Jealousy, 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 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 Ideas 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 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 show 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 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 show that every thing in Her was of a Piece with the rest. She shown a sensibility at the death of those whom She particularly valued; that Persons of so exalted a Condition, do generally think may misbecome them. The many Tears that She shed upon the death of our good Primate, who got the start of Her, a very few Days, shown 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 would not suffer them to be removed, tho' they happened to be lodged very near Herself.  
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 Welcome that She gave them. The Confusions of Ireland, drive over Multitudes, of all Ranks, who fled hither for Shelter, and were soon reduced to great straits, 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 ourselves, 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 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 uneasy 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 shown in this as great an Exactness, and as attentive a Regard; as much 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 herself 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 employ in it. When it was to fall on Persons who had access to Her; her own Hand was the Conveyance: what went through other Hands, was charged on them, with an Injunction of Secrecy. And She herself 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 herself, she would not let those who spoke 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.  
BUT how good soever She was in Herself, she carried a heavy Load upon her Mind: The deep Sense that she had of the Gild and Judgements 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 Virtue, 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 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 Licentiousness, 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 public 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, upon their Services. She had a just esteem of all Persons as She found them truly Virtuous 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 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 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 a sensible Concern, to hear that Ireland was scarce got out of its Miseries, when it was returning to the Levitieses, and even to the Abominations of former Times: She spoke 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 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 herself 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 hearty He concurred in all Designs of that Nature, tho' other more pressing Cares denied Him the Opportunities of considering them so much: 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 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 hearty 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 easy through Her Favour. Those scattered Remnants of our elder Sister, that had been hunted out of their Valleys, were again brought▪ together by Their Majesty's 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 form them into 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 form 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 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 risen 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 other Blessings that we had in Her, That we thought we were secure in a long continuance of it. We flattered ourselves 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 chief 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 the Prospect of a fixed Happiness, goes farther than the reasonable Prospect of our own Continuance here, we think we ourselves are very safe. It is also a delightful Thought to one, that considers how much all Things are out of joint, 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 Channels: And that might have lived till the Nation had put on another Face, till we had recovered our ancient Virtue, as well as our much blasted Fame: Till Religion had been not only secured, but raised to such a Degree, 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 dazzling Her with the brightness of Virtue and Religion among us,) and till Public Liberty had been settled upon a true Basis. I mean the Authority of a well-balanced and well-conducted 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 Virtue, with a gentle but steady Hand: And have repressed the luxuriant Pretensions of those, who understand Public Liberty so little, as not to be able to distinguish it from Licentiousness; which strikes first at Religion and Virtue, and then must soon fall with its own Burden, under the Misery of Usurpations at home, or become an easy Prey to Foreign Conquerors. A corrupted state of Mankind is well prepared to be a Scene of Slavery. Liberty cannot be maintained, but by Virtue, Temperance, moderate Desires, and contented Minds: And since those are not to be attained to but by Religion, this is an uncontested, Truth, That Liberty and Religion live and die together.  
ALL this and a deal more, both with relation to ourselves, 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 form 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 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 ourselves with the Hopes that God was only trying us, to give 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 ourselves think, that so terrible a Stroke was so near us. We who but a few Days before, had been fanoying, what our children's 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 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 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 Harkening 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 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 fullness 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 public, were not so much as shortened; 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 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 herself 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 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 that it went the better with us upon Her Account. There was somewhat in herself, 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 shown what our general Treatment 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 threatened her, show 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 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 herself 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 herself to the Will of God, without any Anxiety concerning Events. The happy News of a 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 show 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 Tranquillity: 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 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 spoke 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 herself 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.  
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 Licentiousness 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 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 shown 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 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.  
SHE was again at the Helm when we were threatened 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 herself, 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, nor can be redressed by Skill or Force, may well be ascribed to the Specialties 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 Wether, that came from the Point, that was most contrary to their Designs, made the Project impracticable. A succession of turns of Wether followed after that, happily to us; and as fatally to them. While the same Wind that stopped their Fleets, joined ours. It went not out of that Direction, till it ended in one of the most glorious Actions that ever England 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.  
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 justify the severest of his Providences.  
IT seemed much more accountable, that our Affairs should have met with some unhappy Interruptions, than that so many Blessings should have attended upon us: She had a tender Sense of any thing that looked 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.  
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.  
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 Enemy's 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 Ruin of their poor and innocent Inhabitants. She spoke 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.  
WHEN Her Affairs had another Face, She grew not secure, nor went She off from Her dependence 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 easy 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 working towards some great Sickness; so She set herself 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 herself entirely to the Disposal of Providence. If She did not wish for Death, yet She did not fear it.  
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 Horror 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 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 itself 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 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 itself from Her Body, and so She risen 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.  
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 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 Terror, as if Thunders and Earthquakes had been shaking both Heaven and Earth. Blackness then dwelled on every Face: A silent Confusion of Look, bursting out often into Tears and Sighs, was so Universal, and looked 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 enough brought to flatter ourselves with the belief of that, which was so much wished 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 ourselves 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 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 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 ministered 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 itself to be mentioned, but that it shown the Presence of her Mind, as well as the Sweetness of her Temper. 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 Herself 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 herself up so entirely to Meditation, that She seemed scarce to mind any thing else. She was then upon the Wing. Such was her Peace in Her latter end, that tho' the Symptoms shown 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 Herself 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 often, that She felt herself well inwardly, than it appeared that there was a particular Blessing in so easy 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 Ideas 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 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 conclude with a sudden Transport of Joy, that She is Happy, unspeakable Happy, by the Change: And has risen much higher above what She herself was a little while ago, than She was then above the rest of Mortals.  
BUT black and genuine Horror 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 Impression, that when we consider, what we have lost, in losing Her, we sink under our Burden: Dispirited, as if our Life and Joy were gone with Her, as if black Night, and lasting Winter had chilled all our Blood, and damped 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 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 paid Her, does now devolve to Him, by a Title that becomes so much the juster, because we have all 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 Acknowledgements 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 itself is so often exposed, that this creates 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 course, then to recollect our Thoughts, and to study to imitate those Virtues 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 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 threatening 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.  
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 hearty 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 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.  
FINIS.   

Books Printed for Richard Chiswell.  
DR. THOMAS TENISON, now Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, his Sermon concerning Discretion in giving Alms. 1668.  
— His Sermon against Self-love, before the House of Commons. 1689.  
— His Sermon of doing Good to Posterity, before Their Majesties. 1690.  
— His Sermon concerning the Wand'ring of the Mind in God's Service, before the Queen: Feb. 15. 1690.  
— His Sermon of the Folly of Atheism, before the Queen: Feb. 22. 1690.  
— His Sermon preached at the Anniversary Meeting of the clergymen's Sons: Decemb. 3. 1691.  
— His Sermon concerning the Celestial Body of a Christian, before the Queen on Easter-Day. 1694.  
— His Sermon concerning Holy Resolution, before the King at Kensington: Decemb. 30. 1694. on Psal. 119. 106.  
— His Sermon at the Funeral of the Queen, in the Abby-Church in Westminster: March 5. 1694/ 5.  
Dr. BURNET, Lord Bishop of Sarum, his Discourse of the Pastoral Care. 8vo.  
— His Four Discourses delivered to the Clergy of the Diocese of Sarum: Concerning, I. The Truth of the Christian Religion. II. The Divinity and Death of Christ. III. The Infallibility and Authority of the Church. iv The Obligations to continue in the Communion of the Church. 8vo. 1694.  
— His Sermon at the Funeral of Archbishop Tillotson. 1694.  
— His Sermon Préached before the King at St. James' Chapel, on the 10th. of February 1694/5 being the first Sunday in Lent, on 2 Cor. 6. 1.  
Dr. PATRICK (now Lord Bishop of Ely) his Heart's-Ease; or, a Remedy against all Troubles: With a consolatory Discourse, particularly directed to those who have lost their Friends and Relations. To which are added Two Papers, printed in the time of the late Plague. The Sixth Edition corrected. 12mo. 1695.  
— His Answer to a Book spread abroad by the Romish Priests, entitled, [The Touchstone of the Reformed Gospel] wherein the true Doctrine of the Church of England, and many Texts of the Holy Scripture, are faithfully explained. 8vo. 1692.  
— His Eight several occasional Sermons since the Revolution. 4to.  
— His Exposition of the Ten Commandments. 8vo.  
A Vindication of Their Majesty's Authority to fill the Sees of the deprived Bishops: In a Letter occasioned by Dr. B—'s Refusal of the Bishopric of Bath and Wells. 4to.  
A Discourse concerning the Unreasonableness of a new Separation, on Account of the Oaths to the present Government. With an Answer to the History of Passive Obedience, so far as relates to them. 4to.  
A Vindication of the said Discourse, concerning the Unreasonableness of a new Separation, from the Exceptions made against it in a Tract called, [A brief Answer to the said Discourse, etc.] 4to.  
Rushworth's Historical Collections. The Third Part, in Two Volumes. Containing the principal Matters which happened from the meeting of the Parliament, Nou. 3. 1640 to the end of the Year 1644. Wherein is a particular account of the Rise and Progress of the Civil War, to that Period. Fol. 1692.  
The Letters of the Reverend Father Paul, Counsellor o State to the most Serene Republic of Venice, and Author of the Excellent History of the Council of Trent. 1693.  
An Impartial History of the Wars of Ireland. In Two Parts. From the Time that Duke Schomberg landed with an Army in that Kingdom, to the 23d. of March 1692. when their Majesty's Proclamation was published, declaring the War to be ended. Illustrated with Copper Sculptures, describing the most important Places of Action. By George Story, an Eye-Witness of the most remarkable Passages. 4to. 1693.  
Dr. john C●nant's Sermons, Published by Dr. Williams, 1693. 8vo.  
Of the Government of the Thoughts. The 2d. Edition, By Ge●. Tully, Subdean of York. 8vo. 1694.  
Origo Legum: Or, a Treatise of the Origine of Laws, and their Obliging Power; as also of their great Variety; and why some Laws are immutable, and some not, but may suffer change, or cease to be, or be suspended, or abrogated. In seven Books. By George Dawson, Fol. 1694.  
A brief Discourse concerning the Lawfulness of Worshipping God by the Common-Prayer: In answer to a Book entitled, [A Brief Discourse of the Unlawfulness of Common Prayer-Worship.] By john Williams, D. D. 4to. 1694.  
A true Representation of the absurd and mischievous Principles of the Sect commonly known by the Name of Muggletonians. 4to. 1694.  
Memoirs of the most Reverend THOMAS CRANMER, Archbishop of Canterbury: Wherein the History of the Church and the Reformation of it during the Primacy of the said Archbishop, are greatly illustrated, and many singular Matters relating thereunto, now first published. In Three Books. Collected chief from Records, Registers, Authentic Letters, and other Original Manuscripts. By john Stripe. M. A. Fol. 1694.  
A Commentary on the First Book of Moses called Genesis. By the Right Reverend Father in God Simon Lord Bishop of Ely. 4to. 1695.  
The History of the Troubles and Trial of the most Reverend WILLIAM LAUD Lord Archbishop of Canterbury; wrote by himself during his Imprisonment in the Tower. To which is prefixed the Diary of his own Life faithfully and entirely published from the Original Copy; and subjoined a Supplement to the preceding History; The Archbishop's last Will; His large Answer to the Lord Says Speech concerning Liturgies ● His Annual Accounts of his Province delivered to the King, and some other things relating to the History. Published by Henry Wharton, Chaplain to Arch-bish. Sancroft, and by his Grace's Command. Fol.  
The Possibility and Expediency and Necessity of Divine Revelation. A Sermon preached at St. Martin's in the Fields, January 7, 169●, at the beginning of the Lecture for the ensuing Year, Founded by the Honourable Rob. boil, Esq by john Williams, D. D.  
— The Certainty of Divine Revelation, being his Second Sermon preached at the said Lecture, Feb. 4▪ 1695.  
— His Vindication of the Sermons of his Grace john Archbishop of Canterbury, concerning the Divinity and Incarnation of our Blessed Saviour, and of the Lord Bishop of Worcester's Sermon on the Mysteries, if the Christian, Faith, from the Exceptions of a late Socinian Book entitled [Considerations on the Explications of the Doctrine of the Trinity]. To which is annexed a Letter from the Lord Bishop of Sarum, to the Author of the said Vindication on the same Subject.  
Historia de Episcopis & Decanis Londinensibus necnon de Episcopis & Decanis Assavensibus a prima utriusque fundatione ad 〈◊〉 MD XL. Accescit Appendix instrumentorum quorundam insignium duplex Autore Henrico Whartono, A. M.   

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THere will be published Several Sermons and Discourses of the Most Reverend Dr. JOHN TILLOTSON late Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, by order of his Administratrix, faithfully transcribed from his own Papers, by Dr. john Barker Chaplain to his Grace. Which are disposed of to Richard Chiswell and his Assigns. If Any pretend to publish any other, (except those already Printed,) they are to be looked upon as Spurious and False. And the Publishers will be proceeded against according to Law.  
The first that will be published, are his Sermons of Sincerity and Constancy in the Faith and Profession of the True Religion, which are in the Press, and will be finished this Easter Term 1695.