THE LIFE OF THE Right Reverend Father in God SETH, Lord Bishop of SALISBURY, And CHANCELLOR of the Most Noble Order of the GARTER.  
With a Brief Account of Bishop Wilkins, Mr. Laurence Rook, Dr. Isaac Barrow, Dr. Turbervile, And others.  
Written by Dr. WALTER POPE, Fellow of the ROYAL SOCIETY.  
— Quid foret Iliae,  
Mavortisque Gener, si Taciturnitas,  
Obstaret meritis Invida Romuli?  Hor. 
LONDON: Printed for William Keblewhite, at the Swan in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1697.   

To the Honourable Colonel JOHN WYNDHAM, of DORSETSHIRE.  
SIR,  
I Might easily bring into the Field, and Muster, a Brigade, if not an Army of Motives, which compelled me to Dedicate this Book to you; but because I know you love Brevity, I shall content myself to declare to the World only one of them, viz.  
Amongst the few Friends I have, for Old Men generally outlive their Friends, I could not pitch upon any Patron so fit as yourself.  
For you were intimately acquainted with the deceased Bishop, the Subject of this Treatise, lovd him, and was entirely beloved by him.  
I appeal therefore to you, as Competent judge, and an Eye witness, whether what I have said concerning his Hospitality, his humble and obliging Conversation in Salisbury, be not rather less, than more than it deserved.  
You also, as I find by Experience, bear no small Affection to me, which I humbly beg you to continue, as long as I shall approve myself,  
SIR, Your most humble, obliged, and Grateful Servant, Walter Pope.   

ERRATA.  
PAGE 17. Line 23. Read London. p. 44. l. 5. for Town r. College. p. 45. l. 19 r. Protector. p. 76. l. 11. r. is our. p. 80. l. 8. r. Chaplain. p. 82. l. 18. r. ten pounds. p. 145. l. 3. r. omnium or panfarmacon. p. 151. l. antep. r. Multum. p. 156. l. penult. r. Absentem.   

THE LIFE OF THE Right Reverend Father in God SETH, Lord Bishop of Salisbury, etc.  

CHAP. I. The Introduction.  
THE Motives that encouraged me, to write this ensuing Treatise, were such as these, viz.  
1. The deceased Bishop had conferred many Favours upon me, and I thought this was a fit opportunity to publish my Gratitude, for them.  
2. That his Life was worthy to be transmitted to Posterity; and that it would be more acceptable to the Learned, that it should be done by me, as well as I could, than not at all; for I have not yet heard of any person who has designed, or attempted it, though there are more than eight years past, since he died.  
3. I am not altogether unprovided for such a Work, having, during my long Acquaintance with Him, and his Friends, informed myself, of most of the considerable Circumstances of his Life.  
4. And in the fourth and last place, because I shall run no risk in so doing: for though some may blame my Performance, yet, even they, cannot but approve my pious Intention; and the worst that can be said against me, if I do not attain my end, will have more of Praise, in it, than Reproach, 'tis what Ovid says of Faeton, Magnis tamen excidit ausis, i. e. 'Twas a noble Attempt, but the Success was not answerable.  
I at first designed to have written it in a continual Narration, without breaking it into Chapters, making any Reflections, or adding any Digressions; but upon second thoughts, which usually are the best, I steered another Course, I have cut it into Chapters, which may serve, as Benches in a long Walk, whereupon the weary Reader may repose himself, till he has recovered Breath, and then readily proceed in his way. I have also interwoven some Digressions, which, if they are not too frequent, foreign, impertinent, and dull, will afford some Divertisement to the Reader. But I fear the Gate is too great for this little City.   

CHAP. II. Of the Bishop's Parentage, Birth, and Education, till he was sent to Cambridge.  
I Think it not worth my pains, to play the Herald, and blazon the Arms belonging to the numerous Family of the WARDS, or to tell the World the Antiquity of it; that that Name came into England with William the Conqueror; that there is at present one Lord, and very many Knights and Gentlemen of very considerable Estates who are so called: For supposing this to be true, as it is, it makes little, if any thing, to the Praise of the the Person whose Life I am now writing. Vix ea nostra voco. Virtuous Actions, not great Names, are the best Ensigns of Nobility. There are now, always were, and ever will be, some bad Men, even of the best Families, I shall therefore go no further back than to his Grandfather, who lived near Ipswich in Suffolk, and had the misfortune to lose a considerable hereditary Estate; whereupon the Bishop's Father, whose Name was john, settled himself at Buntingford in Hertfordshire, following the Employment of an Attorney, and was of good Reputation, for his fair Practice, but not rich. His Mother's Maiden Name was Dalton; I have often heard him commend her extraordinarily, for her Virtue, Piety, and Wisdom, to whose good Instructions and Counsels, he used to say, he owed whatever was good in him. And that this Character was due to her, I have the testimony of that worthy Gentleman, Ralph Freeman Esq, of Aspenden in Hertfordshire, who has faithfully served his Country, as Knight of the Shire for that County in several Parliaments; this Mr. Freeman lived in the same Parish, and well remembers the Bishop's Mother. I never heard the Bishop speak of his Father, possibly he died before his Son came to years of Discretion; on the contrary, I find Horace never mentions his Mother, but is very frequently praising his Father; but to proceed.  
john Ward left three Sons, and as many Daughters, the Sons were john, Seth, and Clement, john died a Bachelor, Clement left three Sons, and several Daughters, to the Care of his Brother Seth, who had then no other Preferment or Income, than the Place of the Savilian Professor of Astronomy in Oxford, and even then, he gave two hundred pounds to one of his Sisters in Marriage, which Sum he borrowed of a Friend of his, whom I knew, who lent it him upon his own Bond, without any other Security, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, which let me thus translate, since 'tis not è Cathedra, nothing doubting, or not despairing to be repaid, as he was, in a short time, with Thanks and Interest. This Friend of his perceived evident signs of a rising Man in Mr. Ward, which must infallibly advance him, if Merit alone can elevate, as it has often, without Friends, under some Kings, and some Archbishops: and it will certainly, at long run, if, as the Saying is, The Horse does not die, before the Grass is grown.  
For all these Male and Female Children, and Relations before mentioned, he provided more than a competent Maintenance, binding some of them Apprentices, breeding others at Schools and Universities, till they were fit for the Ministry, and then placed them in good Benefices, whereof he had the Presentation. He also took care of his Nieces, and provided them Husbands, or to speak more truly, they married themselves to deserving Men, and he preferred their Husbands. I remember he once showed me a Letter, he had lately received from a Sister of his, who was a Dissenter, which began thus, Brother, for she would not call a Bishop Lord, Since there is Corn in Egypt, it is not meet that the Children of Israel should want. I cannot say that this Address prevailed with him, but I am sure it did not hinder him, from filling her Sack. I will anticipate no more of the Bishop's Life, but henceforwards proceed methodically.  
He was born at Buntingford, in the year of our Lord 1618., famous for the appearing and long duration of a great Comet, which some will have to prognosticate the Germane Wars, which happened not long after; but I may as truly say, it foreboded the Greatness of this Man, and I do as much believe the one as the other, that is, not at all.  
His good Mother, whom we have mentioned in the beginning of this Chapter, taught him herself, till he was fit for the Grammar School, bending the young Twig to Virtue, and inculcating to him all things that were good and praiseworthy, wherewith he was so well imbued, that he lost not the Savour of her Education till his death. I have often heard him say, that the Precepts which his Mother gave him both Moral and Political, were not inferior to those which he afterwards found in the best Filosofers.  
He had his first rudiments of Latin in the Grammar School at Buntingford, though not the benefit of an happy Institution, his Master being a weak Man; yet by the encouragement of his Mother, and his own Industry and Parts, he made such improvement, that, by competent Judges, he was esteemed fit for the University, at the age of fourteen years, and accordingly he was sent to Cambridge, and admitted into Sidney College, Anno Dom. 1632.  
He was recommended to Doctor Samuel Ward, the Master of that College, by Mr. Alexander Strange, Vicar of Buntingford, a Person of great Integrity and Piety, by whose care and solicitation, the Chapel and School-house of that place were erected. This Dr. Samuel Ward was a Person of that eminency for Piety and Learning, that King james I. made choice of him amongst others, to assist at the Synod of Dort, and a great Friend to Mr. Strange, upon whose Recommendation, he took young Seth into his more especial care, lodging him in his own Apartment, and allowing him the use of the Library; in a word, treating him, as if he had been his own, and only Son.   

CHAP. III. Of his being at Cambridge.  
WHEN he first went to the University, he was young and low of stature, and as he walked about the streets, the Doctors, and other grave Men, would frequently lay their Hands upon his white Head, for he had very fair Hair, and ask him of what College he was, and of what standing, and such like Questions, which was so great a vexation to him, that he was ashamed to go into the Town, and, as it were, forced to stay in the College and study. I said before, that he had the benefit of the College Library, and our young Student showed this Favour was not ill bestowed upon him, by making good use of it, and so happily improving that advantage, that in a short time he was taken notice of, not only in that College, but also in the University, as a Youth of great Hopes and Learning, beyond what was usual in one of his age, and standing.  
All his Improvement was the product of his happy Genius and Love to Learning, and not due to any Instructions he received either from his Schoolmaster or Tutor, for Mr. Pendrith his Tutor, though he was a very honest Man, yet he was no Conjurer, nor of any fame for Learning. I have often heard the Bishop repeat some part of his Tutor's Speeches, which never failed to make the Auditory laugh.  
To omit his other Studies, for there were no Regions of Learning which he had not visited, I think it not improper here to relate, that his Genius led him to those which are above vulgar Capacities, and require a good Head, and great Application of Mind to understand.  
In the College Library he found, by chance, some Books that treated of the Mathematics, and they being wholly new to him, he inquired all the College over for a Guide to instruct him that way, but all his Search was in vain, these Books were Greek, I mean unintelligible, to all the Fellows of the College. Nevertheless, he took courage, and attempted them himself, proprio Marte, without any Confederates, or Assistance, or Intelligence in that Country, and that with so good Success, that in a short time he not only discovered those Indies, but conquered several Kingdoms therein, and brought thence a great part of their Treasure, which he showed publicly to the whole University not long after. When he was Sosister, he disputed in those Sciences, more like a Master than a Learner, which Disputation Dr. Bambridge heard, greatly esteemed, and commended. This was the same Dr. Bambridge who was afterwards Savilian Professor of Astronomy at Oxford, a learned and good Mathematician; yet there goes a Story of him, which was in many Scholars Mouths when I was first admitted there, That he put upon the School Gate an Affiche, or written Paper, as the Custom is, giving notice, at what time, and upon what Subject the Professor will read, which ended in these Words, Lecturus de Polis & Axis, under which was written by an unknown Hand, as follows, 
Doctor Bambridge, came from Cambridge,  
To read De ●olis & Axis.  
Let him go back again, like a Dunce as he came,  
And learn a new Syntaxis.   
But this by the by, let us return to our Charge, at his Act for Bachelor of Arts, his Questions were concerning the julian and Gregorian Account of the Year, which gave occasion to Mr. Thorndike, than Proctor, to take especial notice of him, and entitled him to the Acquaintance and Friendship of most of his ingenious Contemporaries, amongst whom, some proved afterwards very eminent, as Dr. Pearson, the learned Bishop of Chester, Sir Charles Scarborough, Mr. Rook, etc. Of some of them, I shall have occasion to speak elsewhere.  
In the year 1640. Dr. Cousins was Vicechancellor, and he pitched upon Mr. Ward to be Praevaricator, which in Oxford we call Terrae-filius, and in that place he behaved himself to the general Satisfaction of the Auditory; but yet, it must be acknowledged, that the Vicechancellor took some offence at his Speech, and suspended him his Degree.  
Dr. Cousins was not an Enemy to Wit, but perhaps he thought not fit to allow it to be so freely spoken, in so sacred a Place. I say he took some offence against him, but whether 'twas given or only taken, I determine not, but however the next day before the end of the Commencement, for what at Oxford is called the Act, is styled by that Name at Cambridge, he reversed his Censure. The Reader may imagine his Fault was not great, when so severe a Judge, as Bishop Cousins, should impose no greater Punishment upon him, and take it off in so short a time. I had not mentioned this his Suspension, neither ought I, had it not, many years after, made a great noise at Oxford, which we shall mention in its proper place. Both Dr. Cousins, and Mr. Ward, were, not long after, Fellow Sufferers in another and far greater Cause; and he certainly suffered without any Fault then, whatever he did before.  
The Civil Wars breaking out, the Effects of them were first felt by the Bishops, and afterwards by the Universities: Cambridge suffered first, lying in the associated Counties, and subject to the Parliaments Power; Oxford, which was then a Garrison, and the King's Headquarters, drank of the same bitter Cup some years after. At Cambridge, several Heads and Fellows of Colleges and Halls were imprisoned, for refusing the Covenant, some in the Town, and some in St. john's College, made a Gaol by the Parliament Forces, commanded by the Earl of Manchester; and amongst the rest Dr. Samuel Ward, Master of Sidney College was imprisoned, whither Mr. Ward accompanied him voluntarily, and submitted to that Confinement, that he might assist so good a Man, and so great a Friend in that Extremity. I have heard him say, that Imprisonment seemed at first to him very uneasy, but after he had been a little time used to it, he liked it well enouf, and could have been contented, not to have stirred out all the days of his Life. The great Inconvenience of so close a Confinement, in the height of a hot Summer, caused some of Doctor Wards Friends to mediate for his Removal, at least for some Weeks, which was granted, and in the beginning of August, the Doctor was permitted to go to his own House, to which also Mr. Ward accompanied him, and carefully ministered unto him. Within a Month's time after his Enlargement, the good old Man fell into a dangerous Distemper, caused by his Imprisonment, whereof he died the seventh of September following, in the year of our Lord 1643. Mr. Ward, who never left him, was with him in the last moments of his Life, and closed his Eyes, after having received his last Words, which were these, God bless the King, and my Lord Hopton, who then commanded a great Army in the West. What befell him afterwards, during his stay at Cambridge, shall be the Subject of the next Chapter.   

CHAP. IU. A Continuation of the Precedent Matter.  
UPON the Death of Dr. Ward, the Fellows assembled to choose a new Master, Mr. Ward, with nine of them, gave their Suffrages for Mr. Thorndike of Trinity College; for Mr. Minshull there were eight Votes, including his own, but while they were at the Election, a Band of Soldiers rushed in upon them, and forcibly carried away Mr. Parsons, one of those Fellows who voted for Mr. Thorndike, so that the number of Suffrages for Mr. Mynshull, his own being accounted for one, was equal to those Mr Thorndike had. Upon which Mr. Mynshull was admitted Master, the other eight only protesting against it, being ill advised, for they should have adherd to their Votes. Two of them, whereof Mr. Ward was one, went to Oxford, and brought thence a Mandamus from the King, commanding Mr. Mynshull and the Fellows of Sidney College, to repair thither, and give an account of their Proceedings, as to that Election, this Mandamus or peremptory Summons was fixed upon the Chapel door, by Mr. Linnet, who was afterwards a Fellow of Trinity College, but at that time attended on Mr. Thorndike. On the other side, one Mr. Bertie, a Kinsman of the Earl of Lindsey, being one of those who voted for Mr. Mynshull, was also sent to Oxford in his behalf; this Gentleman, by the Assistance and Mediation of my Lord of Lindsey, procured an Order from the King, to confirm Mr. Mynshulls' Election, but he, not thinking this Title sufficient, did corroborate it with the Broad Seal, to which Mr. Thorndike consented, Mr. Mynshull paying him and the rest of the Fellows the Charges they had been at, in the Management of that Affair, amounting to about an hundred pound. The next Spring Mr. Ward and Mr. Gibson were summoned to appear before the Committee of Visitors, then sitting at Trinity College, and tendered the Covenant, and other Oaths, which they refused, declaring themselves unsatisfied as to the Lawfulness of them. Then they desired to know if the Committee had any Crime to object against them? they answered they had not; they declared the reason why they asked was, that they understood, some were ejected for not taking the Covenant, and others for Immoralities; to which they received this Answer, that those were words of course, put into all their Orders of Ejection. Such was the Carriage of those Commissioners, not only to take away the Livelihood of those they expelled, but also their good Name and Reputation, and so render them unpitied, and not worthy to be relieved.  
In the Month of August following, Mr. Ward, who was then absent, received the news, that his Ejection was voted and put into Execution.  
Being now exiled from Cambridge, he diverted himself with Dr. Wards Relations, in and about London, for a season, and sometimes with the Reverend Divine and Learned Mathematician, Mr. William Oughtred, invited thereto by his Love to those Sciences, in which Mr. Oughtred had showed his Ability, and acquired a great Name by publishing his Clavis Mathematicae, a little Book as to the bulk, but a great one as to the Contents, as the understanding Reader must acknowledge.  
Mr. Ward was so well known, and of so good a reputation at Cambridge, that in his Exile he wanted not places of resort and refuge. He was invited by the E. of Carlisle, and several other Persons of high Quality, with proffers of large and honourable Pensions, to come and reside in their Families: Nay, I have heard him say, that even then when he was in those straits, and might have truly said, Silver, or Gold, or Preferment I have none, he was proffered several rich Matches, but he had no inclination to Matrimony, whilst he laboured under those Circumstances. At last he chose to accept the Invitation, or to speak more properly, to yield to the importunity of his Friend and Countryman Ralf Freeman Esquire, of Aspenden in Hertfordshire, in the Parish wherein he sucked his first Milk, and imbibed his first rudiments of Virtue, about five and twenty mile distant from Ladon; he instructed his Sons, and continued there off and on, till the Year 1649. Then he was earnestly invited by my Lord Wenman of Tame-Park in Oxfordshire, about ten miles distant from that City, thither he went, and lived some time with him, rather as a Companion than Chaplain, it being more safe for him to be near Oxford than Cambridge, and as it proved in the event, much more advantageous, for this was the first visible step to his preferment. He was not in this Family many months before the Visitation of the University of Oxford began; the Effect whereof was, that many Heads of Colleges and Halls, as also many Fellows of Colleges were turned out, as before at Cambridge, and at last the Visitation reached the learned and eminent Person Mr. Edw. Greaves, Savilian Professor of Astronomy, and Fellow of Merton-College, the same who had but a little before published that learned Exercitation concerning the Measuring of the famed Egyptian Pyramids near Grand Cairo.  
Although this Gentleman was for a season screened against the fury of the Visitation by some powerful Friends, yet finding that 'twas impossible for him to keep his ground, he made it his business to procure an able and worthy Person to succeed him. Upon that design he took a Journey to London, to advise with some knowing Persons concerning that Affair; and amongst the rest with Dr. Scarborough, who had then very great Practice, and lived magnificently, his Table being always accessible to all learned Men, but more particularly to the distressed Royalists, and yet more particularly to the Scholars ejected out of either of the Universities for adhering to the King's Cause. After mature Consultation, it was agreed upon by a general consent, that no Person was so proper and fit for that employment as Mr. Ward. Mr. Greaves, who had heard much of Mr. Ward, but had no acquaintance with him, readily consented to what they had concerted, and undertook to find Mr. Ward out, and make him the proffer, and accordingly he made a Journey to Oxford. Mr. Ward wholly ignorant of this design upon him, or rather for him, rides casually from Tame-Park to Oxford, as he frequently used to do, either to consult some Books in the public Library, or to visit his Friends and Acquaintance. Just as he was entering the Bear-Inn, luckily meets Mr. Greaves coming out of it, who being informed who he was, accosted and courteously saluted him, testifying his great joy by many kind Expressions, for this fortunate and unexpected rencontre; after which, taking him aside, he imparted his business, the design he had to have him for his Successor, urging him with great importunity, not to deny him this favour. I remember I have heard the Bishop say, that amongst other Arguments, Mr. Greaves told him, if you refuse it, they will give it to some Cobbler of their Party who never heard the name of Euclid, or the Mathematics, and yet will greedily snap at it for the Salaries sake. But Mr. Greaves was out in his Divination, for the other Place, I mean the Professors of Geometry, was filled with a very learned Man in that Science, as his elaborate Works have sufficiently manifested to the World. This Address of Mr. Greaves did so surprise Mr. Ward, that it did at once assault his Modesty, and perplex his Council. After many thanks for so great and unexpected a Favour, he objected the difficulty of effecting it, saying, he could not with any reason expect, to enjoy quietly a public Professors place in Oxford, when 'twas notoriously known, that he was turned out of Cambridge for refusing the Covenant. Mr. Greaves replied, that he and his Friends had considered that Obstacle, and found out a way to remove it, and it was effectually removed a little while after by the means of Sir john Trevor, who tho' of the Parliament Party, was a great lover of Learning, and very obliging to several Scholars who had been turned out of the two Universities. Sir john had great Interest in the Committee which disposed of the Places of those who were ejected, and by that brought Mr. Ward into the Professors Chair, and preserved him in it, without taking the Covenant, or Engagement. So that the very same thing that caused his ejection out of Cambridge, was the cause also of his preferment in Oxford. The first Astronomy Professor, I mean of Sir Henry Saviles' Foundation, was a Cambridge Man, placed in by the Founder, as was also the Geometry Professor put in now by the Visitors, the difference of Universities being not esteemed a sufficient obstacle to hinder any deserving Persons from obtaining either of these Places. Mr. Ward being now settled in the Professors Chair, was in the first place careful to express his Gratitude to those Persons, by whose assistance he had obtained it; and first to Mr. Greaves, for whom he procured the full Arrears of his Salary, amounting to five hundred pound, for part, if not all the Land allotted to pay the Savilian Professors lies in Kent, which County was in the power of the Parliament, who withheld the Money, and it had been difficult, if not impossible, for Mr. Greaves, who was not Rectus in Curia, ever to have recovered it; and he also designed him a considerable part of his Salary, but he, I mean Mr. Greaves, died soon after. To Sir john Trevor, Father of that Sir john, who was afterwards Secretary of State in the Reign of King Charles the Second, he dedicated one of his Books, and therein publicly declares to the World, how many and great Obligations he had to that worthy Person. How Mr. Ward behaved himself at Oxford, and what befell him there, will be the Subject of the ensuing Chapters.   

CHAP. V. Of his being at Oxford.  
AND now I have brought him to Oxford, where I first became acquainted with him, I can proceed upon more certain grounds; I promise not to put any thing upon the Reader now, but what either I knew, or have heard attested by those whom I could trust. Hitherto I have been guided, for the greatest part, by what I have received from the Bishop himself, casually, and at several times. I am also indebted, for the Names of the Bishop's Relations, to that worthy Person Ralf Freeman Esquire, whom I have had occasion so often to mention before, and shall again; one whom he loved and honoured all his Life, and to whom, and his Heirs, he left, at his Death, the sole power of putting in his Alms-men, as will be related in its due place.  
The greatest Light concerning the Cambridge Transactions before related, I received by a few short indigested Notes, which Dr. Sherman had collected, in order to write the Bishop's Life, this Dr. john Sherman, was the Bishop of Salisburys Chaplain, and archdeacon of North Wiltshire, a very learned Person, and would, had he outlived the Bishop, been the fittest Man in the World to have undertaken the Task, which I, for want of others, am engaged in. But he was untimely cut off by the Small Pox, at the Bishop of Salisburys Lodgings in Charterhouse-yard, March 24. Anno Dom. 1671. many years before the Bishop, whose Life he had designed to have written.  
The first thing Mr. Ward did, after his Settlement in Oxford, was to bring the Astronomy Lectures into Reputation, which had been for a considerable time disused, and wholly left of. He therefore read very constantly, and, that being known, he never failed of a good Auditory; I have heard him say, and he was no Liar, that in all the time he enjoyed the Astronomy Professors Place, he never missed one reading Day. Besides this, he taught the Mathematics gratis to as many of the University, or Foreigners, as desired that Favour of him. I remember he told me that a certain Germane Nobleman made application to him upon that account, and that when Mr. Ward was in the middle of a hard Demonstration, which required the utmost Intention of Mind to understand, for if by Inadvertency, one Link of it is lost, all the rest is to no purpose and unintelligible; this Person interrupted him and said Sir you have a fine Key, his Key by chance lying then upon the Table; 'tis so, replied the Professor, and put an End to his Lecture, and would read no more to that Pupil.  
Besides this, he preached frequently, tho' he was not obliged to it, for Sir Henry Savile had exempted his Professors from all University Exercises, that they might have the more leisure to mind the Employment he designed them for. His Sermons were strong, methodical and clear, and, when Occasion required, pathetical and eloquent: for, besides his Skill in the Mathematics, he was a great Lover of Tully, and understood him very well. In his Disputations his Arguments were always to the purpose, and managed with great Art, his Answers clear and full. I remember I heard him oppose, in the Act time, a Head of a House, who then did his Exercise for Doctor in Divinity, the Question was, concerning the Morality of the Fourth Commandment, against which he urged, That the same time might be Saturday, Sunday and Monday, or Sunday and any two other days equally distant from it: for supposing two Ships to set sail from the same Port, one westward, according to the Motion of the Sun, it will make every day longer than four and twenty Hours, and consequently there must be fewer days in that Year; and the other, which we suppose holds its course Eastward, must have the contrary Effect, and consequently make more days in the same space of time. Let us then suppose that these two Ships sailed at the same time from the same place, and return thither that day twelvemonth, it shall be to one of them Monday, and to the other Saturday. Or, supposing two Swallows, with greater Celerity, to make the same Voyage, both of them starting upon the same Sunday from the same place, and granting one of them to gain, and the other lose, about half a quarter of an hour, or eight minutes in four and twenty hours which they may do, at their Return to the place from whence they set forth, though 'twill be Sunday to those who remained there, it shall be to one of these Swallows Tuesday, and to the other Friday. Again, if the Sabbath is to be accounted from Sunset to Sunset, as some observe it, then to those who inhabit under the Poles, it must be a year long for the Sun under the Northern Pole sets only in September, at the Autumnal Equinox, and to those under the Southern Pole it sets only in March or the Vernal Equinox. To those who lie more Northward than the Arctic Circle, or more Southward than the Anctartic, the Sunday shall not only be several Days, but Weeks and Months long. And several other Arguments of this Nature: To all which the Respondent vouchsafed no other Answer than this, Omnia hujusmodi Argumenta sunt mere Astronomica. As much as if he should have said, These are all but Demonstrations, and therefore, I think them not worthy of an Answer.  
Whilst he continued in that Chair, besides his Public Lectures he wrote several Books, one De Astronomia Eliptica, one against Bullialdus, one about Proportion, one of Trigonometry, one against Mr. Hobbs, who never pardoned him for it to his dying Day, as we shall have occasion to show hereafter, and one, in English, and a jocose stile, against one Webster, asserting the Usefulness of the Universities. He also preached often, at St. Mary's, to the Admiration of all the Auditory, some of which Sermons are published in the Collection printed for james Collins.  
At his first coming to Oxford, he made choice of Wadham Col. to reside in, invited thereto by the Fame of Dr. Wilkins Warden thereof, with whom he soon contracted an intimate Acquaintance and Friendship, their Humours and Studies lying the same way; but Dr. Wilkins was so well known, that I need not dilate in his Praise, for if I should, my near Relation to him, might make my Character of him suspected, therefore I shall say no more of him at present, but that he was a Learned Man, and a Lover of such; he was of a Comely Aspect, and Gentlemanlike Behaviour; he had been bred in the Court, and was also a piece of a Traveller, having twice seen the Prince of Auranges' Court, at the Hague, in his Journey to, and Return from Heydelburgh, whither he went to wait upon the Prince Elector Palatine, whose Chaplain he was in England. He had nothing of Bigotry, Unmannerliness, or Censoriousness, which then were in the Zenith, amongst some of the Heads, and Fellows of Colleges in Oxford. For which Reason many Country Gentlemen, of all Persuasions, but especially those than styled Cavaliers and Malignants, for adhering to the King and the Church, sent their Sons to that College, that they might be under his Government. I shall instance but in two eminent Sufferers for that Cause, Colonel Penruddoc who was murdered at Exeter, and Judge jenkyns, who was kept a close Prisoner till the Kings Return, for not owning the Parliaments usurped Authority, these two had their Sons there. I could name many more, who for Dr. Wards sake, left Cambridge, and brought their Pupils with them, and settled themselves in Wadham College, as Dr. Gaspar Needham, and Mr. Laurence Rook, of whom I have much to say in its due place.  
The Affluence of Gentlemen was so great, that I may truly say of Wadham College▪ it never since, or before, was in so flourishing a Condition, I mean, it never had so many Fellow Commoners as at that time, though it cannot be denied, but that it has always had more than its proportion; may it for ever flourish and increase in Riches and Reputation: this I heartily wish, for the Kindness I have received from it.  
At this time there were several Learned Men of the University and in the City, who met often at the Wardens Lodgings in Wadham College, and sometimes elsewhere, to improve themselves by making Filosofical Experiments. Some of these, for I will not undertake to reckon them all up, were Mr. Robert boil, than well known, but since more famous in all parts of Europe, for his great Piety, and Skill in Experimental Filosofy, and other good Literature; Mr. Matthew Wren, afterwards Secretary to the Duke of York; Dr. Willis, Dr Goddard, Warden of Merton, and Professor of Fysic at Gresham College in London, Dr. Wallis, Dr. Bathurst, Mr. Rook, etc.  
About this time that Learned and Reverend Person Dr. Brownrig, the ejected Bishop of Exeter, came and lived a retired Life, at Sunning in Berkshire, whither Mr. Ward, who was his Chaplain used to go often to wait upon him. This Bishop sent once for him, and collated on him the Precentorship of the Church of Exeter, the Incumbent whereof was lately Dead, and at the same time told him, That he was confident the King would be restored, and you may live, said he, to see that happy day, though I believe I shall not, and then this, which seems now 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, may be of some Emolument to you. It fell out as the good Bishop foretold, for he died in the dawn of the Restoration, and Mr. Ward lived to enjoy this collated Benefice, which was worth to him several thousand pounds. I have heard him often declare, that had he not been Chanter of Exeter, he could not have lived at the rate he always after did, and done those Deeds of Charity, without immersing himself into so great Debt, that he could never be able to pay, and he hated nothing more, than to lie in any Man's debt. To evidence this, I remember, that afterwards, when he was Bishop of Salisbury, he never would go out of the Town, either to London, whither his Business often called him, or elsewhere, if he intended to make any stay, before he paid all the Tradesmen, with whom he dealt, the uttermost Farthing.  
But to proceed, for this Instrument of his Collation, he paid Bishop Brownrigs Secretary the full Fees, as if he were presently to take possession of the Place, though this happened in the darkest night of Despair, when there appeared no Probability, scarcely any Possibility, that the Sun would ever rise again; I mean, the King, Laws, and Church should ever be restored. I know he was sufficiently laughed at, by some of his Friends, for so doing, I have heard them tell him, they would not give him half a Crown for his Procentorship, to whom he replied, since it was the good Bishop's Kindness, though he should never make a penny of it, it was as acceptable to him, as if he were to take possession the next moment.  
This was the first fair Flower that ever grew in his Garden, and the foundation of his future Riches and Preferment.  
Anno Domini 1654. both the Savilian Professors did their Exercises in order to proceed Doctors in Divinity, and when they were to be presented, the other claimed to be Senior. Mr. Ward demanded what pretence have you for this demand, you can't deny, but that I was your Senior in Cambridge. The other urged that he was suspended from his Degree, as we have mentioned before in the Second Chapter, not remembering, or at least not calling to mind, that he was restored before the End of the Commencement, and completed Master, by the Vicechancellors putting on Mr. Wards Cap before his. When this pretence failed, he had recourse to another, and owned himself to be possessed of an Estate, whose value put him into the number of Grand Compounders, who because they pay greater Fees, have the privilege to be Seniors in all Faculties and Degrees of their Year. Thus he obtained the Seniority, and paid for it, and enjoyed it, till Dr. Ward was made a Bishop. But since this slight difference bred no Animosities, or ill blood, betwixt the two Professors, and they lived in mutual kindness till Bishop Ward's death, I shall insist no longer upon it.  
Tho' he was so compliant and useful in his Station at Oxford, yet he could never wear off, neither indeed did he desire it, the imputation of being a Cavalier, and Episcopaly inclined, this was often hit in his teeth, as the unpardonable Sin, and the Leaven of the Farisees, but it did him no hurt. Amongst the rest a Person of Honour, afterwards married to a Peer of this Realm, who then lived about twenty miles distant from Oxford, in a Family well known to Dr. Wilkins and Dr. Ward, and often visited by them. This Lady drolling with him, used these words. Doctor Ward, I am confident you believe▪ the King will come in, and that you shall be a Bishop. Madam, replied he, I think neither the one or the other impossible. But I esteem it so improbable, said she, that if it happens in my life-time, I promise, before these Witnesses, to present you with a pair of Lawn Sleeves of mine own handiwork, which would be no small Mortification to one of our persuasion, said she laughing, for she was a Presbyterian, and yet, nevertheless, which is remarkable, a very Ingenious Lady. Doctor Ward returned her his humble thanks, adding, If there should be an occasion, he would give her Ladyship timely notice. And he was as good as his word, giving her advice of his Nomination to the Bishopric of Exeter. She also was not worse than hers, presenting him the first Lawn Sleeves he ever wore; and still, notwithstanding his being a Bishop, kept the same Friendship and acquaintance with her, as before. About this time happened a Controversy in the University of Oxford about Formalities, in which I bore a great part, and for variety's sake, would have related here, but because this Chapter is long enouf, I reserve it to the next.   

CHAP. VI The Controversy concerning CAPS and HOODS.  
IN the Year 1658. the reigning Party in the University of Oxford, or if you will style them by the name they assumed to themselves, the Godly Party, began to put all things into Confusion; and to that end, in the first place they resolved to take away those decent distinctions of Degrees, Caps, and Hoods, and they had done it by a Law, had not I stood in the Gap. Memenisse juvat, the remembrance whereof is pleasant, Sumo superbiam quaesitam meritis, Let no Man rob me of my deserved Honour. The manner was thus; but before I enter into that Narration, I'll tell you one property of this Party: They continually complained of Persecution; I heard one of them Preach at St. mary, his design was to prove, that Afflictions were the lot of the Righteous; but he made this Objection against his Doctrine; How is this, said he, true of us, can we say, we are afflicted and persecuted? When we have all the good things our hearts can wish, we are the Favourities of the Government, and in possession of the best Places, both in the University and Country. To which, said he, thus I answer; We are, my beloved, Tongue-persecuted; the Wicked forbear not to say of us, we are Knaves and Hypocrites, which was too true of a great number of them. But to return to my Relation: This Party resolved to abolish the Statute, enjoining the wearing of Caps and Hoods, crying out against them as Relics of Popery, and Rags of the Scarlet Whore. To effect this their design, they sent an Envoy to me to engage me to comply with them, well knowing that without my concurrence their design would prove abortive. The Person whom they employed, was a Schoolfellow and intimate Friend of mine, who altho' the Son of a Royalist, upon some disappointments, especially a great one, that happened to him at Westminster by the means of Mr. Busbie, of which perhaps more hereafter: I say, upon this, and other Misfortunes, he became a Presbyterian and Commonwealths-Man, if this addition be not superfluous. He was a Man of Learning, and knew it, and very hot and zealous in his way; he, I say, came to my Chamber and told me his Message. Well, said I to him, what have you to say against Caps and Hoods? He made a long Discourse, which I heard with patience; and when I perceived he was silent, Ned, said I to him, prithee go back to thy Chamber, and put in writing all that thou hast said, and bring it to me. And what will you do with it then, said he? I will, I replied, blot out the words Caps and Hoods, and in their places insert Gowns; will not your Arguments be every whit as strong against them, as against Formalities? I confess they will, he answered, but we are not come thither yet. I replied, I'd make it my endeavour to keep you where you are, and so we parted.  
As I was confident the Party would drive on the design furiously, so I saw that without me they could never bring it to take effect; there being a Statute, which says in express Terms, That no Statute be deemed abrogated or repealed, without the attestation of the Vicechancellor, and both the Proctors, under their hands, that it was formally taken away in the Convocation. But before I proceed any further in this Contest, give me leave to make a small digression, and recount what afterwards befell this my Friend. I hinted before a great disappointment he had received from Mr. Busbie the Schoolmaster of Westminster, the matter of Fact was thus; Mr. Vincent the second Master, left that Station, and went to Travel for his Health, than did Mr. Busbie write to my Friend, who was Master of Arts, and Student of Christ-Church, to come and be Second Master. After he had received this Letter, brimful of joy, he brought it me, thinking I should, as his Friend, be also much pleased at this good News, and encourage him to accept of this proffer: But I, contrary to his expectation, used my utmost endeavour to dissuade him from it. He answered, that I spoke out of prejudice against Mr. Busbie, but he knew better things. 'Tis true, when he was a King's Scholar at Westminster, he was a little, well-favoured, white-haired Youth, and his Father was liberal to the Master; all which concurring with a good docible Inclination, made him one of Mr. Busbys White Boys, or chief Favourites. But I foresaw the Case would soon be altered, when he should pretend Equality, and not content himself to keep at such a distance as the former Usher did; I told him, there is a great difference betwixt you and Mr. Vincent; he was a very honest and learned Man, but of mean Parentage, Mr. Busbys Servitor at Oxford, and but one remove from it, at Westminster, you are a Gentleman, and of no submissive Temper, you have had liberal Education, and kept good Company, and know the World, 'tis impossible you can submit to such Usage, as you will find there. For I very well knew both their Humours, and easily foresaw, that 'twas absolutely impossible for those two, as the Saying is, to set their Horses together. The event proved that I was on the right side of the Hedge, he found such Usage as I foretold, and I doubt not, but his Behaviour was, as I conjectured it would be, but the particulars thereof are too long, and not necessary to be here related. Upon this he turns, turns with a vengeance, goes over to the Gentiles, and that he might be revenged upon Mr. Busbie, Sacrifices to Moloch, worships, and adores the worst of Men, even the Judges of King Charles the First; but Mr. Busbie, who Ploughed with the same Heifers, had too much compliance, cunning, and money, to be hurt by him. Upon this, he returns to his Students Place at Christ-Church, makes me a Visit, and rails so bitterly against Mr. Busbie, that, even I was forced to take his part. He remained at Oxford, propagating his Commonwealth Principles, and when he was Censor, which Office in other Colleges is called the Dean, whose business 'tis, to Moderate at Disputations, and give the Scholars Questions; he gave some in Politics, and ordered the Respondents to maintain them against Monarchy and Episcopacy. There he continued till the King was restored, than some considerable Friends of his, whom I knew, advised him to go into the Country, and there to live peaceably, and conformably, for the space of one Year, at the end of which, they assured him, they would procure him some considerable Preferment in the Church. Accordingly he went, and tried, but not being able to hold out so long, in a short time he repaired to London, seven times more imbittered against Ecclesiastical and Kingly Government than when he went into the Country: And now he sides Tooth and Nail with the Fanatics, and made a great Figure amongst them, exceeding most, if not all of them, in Natural and acquired parts. King Charles sent for him, designing to work some good upon him, and do him a kindness; but he found him so obstinate and refractory, that he was forced to leave him to his own Imaginations; he afterwards married a blind Woman, who fell in Love with him for his Preaching; after which I met him in Covent-Garden, and accosted him freely; after the usual Compliments passed, Ned, said I to him jocularly, I hear thou hast married a blind Woman, dost thou intend to beg with her? Upon this I perceived his Countenance change, and he returned me this Answer; What's that to you; may not I Mary whom I please? Nay, said I, if you are pleased, I have no reason to be offended, and so we parted, and I never saw him after, but I understood since, that he died a Prisoner in a House near Newgate, whither he was committed for his violent opposition to the Government. It is now full time I should reassume the Clue of my Narration. The Vicechancellor summons a Convocation, having most of the Heads of Houses, and many Masters of Arts on his side. It was very remarkable, that all the Antediluvian Cavaliers, I mean Fellows of Colleges, who had the good fortune to survive the Flood of the Visitation, and keep their Places, and who had ever since that lived retired in their Cells, never meddling with Public Affairs in the University, nor appearing in the Convocation, or Congregations, came now as it were in Troops, Velut Agmine facto, habited in their Formalities, to give their Votes for their Continuation, most of whose Faces were unknown to the greatest part of the Assembly; with these unexpected recruits we easily carried our Cause, tho' we could have done it without their Assistance. After the Cause of the Convocation was declared, as the Custom is, the Vicechancellor put it to the Vote, Whether the Statute commanding the Use of Caps and Hoods, should be abrogated, or not: After the Scrutiny, he declared, tho' he knew nothing of the matter, that it was taken away, the other Proctor not resisting or opposing, than I took the boldness to tell the Vicechancellor, that the majority of Suffrages was to the contrary, as it was in truth; but if it had not been so, I had a Sheet Anchor in reserve, which I would have cast out, rather than have lost my Ship. That was this; There is a Statute, amongst others to which we were Sworn, that declares their Votes Null who are not in Habits suitable to their degrees; almost all their Party, not knowing, or not minding this, came and Voted without their Habits, and consequently lost their Votes; but I was not forced to make use of this last Shift, I told the Vicechancellor that the Statutes intrust the Proctors only, to gather and compare the Suffrages, and pronounce where the Majority fell, and that, with his favour, he had nothing to do in that Affair; to which he replied, Egregie Procurator tace, Good Mr. Proctor hold your tongue: Upon this, the Masters, in a tumultuary manner, rose from their Seats, and began to Mutiny, which caused the Vicechancellor to Dissolve the Convocation. One would have thought this business should have ended here, but it did not, for the very next day the Vicechancellor sent one of the Beadles to me, desiring me to come to his Lodgings, and there attest under my hand, that the Statute in debate was legally abrogated in the Convocation held the day before. I was wonderfully amazed at this Message, I therefore bid him that brought it, to present my Service to the Vicechancellor, and withal, to tell him, that I wondered he should esteem me so great a Fool, Knave, or Coward, or all of them together, that I should be prevailed upon to give it under my hand, that I was Perjured, when I had acted according to my Oath, and the Truth; I bid him tell him farther, that I should as soon, nay sooner, cut off my Hand and send it to him, as to do what he required, to which there was no rejoinder, and so this Affair ended. The event whereof was, that they who before cared not whether they wore Caps or Hoods, or not, now immediately procured them; never had the Makers and Sellers thereof a better vent for their Ware, as it appeared the next Sunday, for there was then a greater number of Scholars at St. mary in their Formalities, than ever I saw before or since, that time, and the Use of them continued, tho' not to that height, till the happy Restoration of King Charles, which was in less than two Years after.   

CHAP. VII. What happened to Dr. Ward at Oxford.  
'TIS the natural effect of Eminency, to create Envy in those who despair to arrive to it; the brighter the Sun shines upon any body, the darker is the Shadow, which is inseparable from it. 'Twas well said of Cleaveland, 'Tis Height makes Grantham Steeple stand awry. Upon this account, Dr. Ward, as well as Dr. Wilkins, became liable to the Persecutions of those peevish People, who ceased not to Clamour, and even to Article against them, as Cavaliers in their hearts, mere Moral Men, without the Power of Godliness; for you must know, that a Moral and unblameable Person, if he did not Herd with them, was an Abomination to that Party. I have heard one of the chiefest of them out of St. mary Pulpit, deliver himself concerning them in this manner; There's more hope of a Whoremonger, a common Drunkard, a profane Swearer, than of these Moral Men; they justify their selves; Do not we, say they, do our Exercises constantly, do we ever miss College Prayers? Are we out of the Town after Tom has Tolled, and the College Gates shut? Do we Injure any body, do we not pay our Battles and Debts? Are we Drunkards, Swearers, or Whoremasters? Who can say black is our Eye? My Beloved, such are in a desperate Condition, jesus Christ can take no hold upon such Persons; and much more to this purpose.  
Dr. Ward rid out this Storm, but Dr. Wilkins put into the Port of Matrimony, marrying the Protectors Sister, Widow of Dr. Peter French, a Canon of Christ-Church, who really was a Pious, Humble and Learned Person, and an excellent Preacher, and, if I should say the best of all that Party, I should not give him more than his due praise; in a word, this Party were rigidly and unmercifully Censorious against the Moral Men, and fond and ridiculously tender towards those of their own Communion: If a Woman happened to be got with-Child by a Moral Man, 'twas in him a reigning Sin; but if it was by a Church Member, 'twas a failing, whereunto the best Saints were subject, not excepting the Man after Gods own heart. This Matrimony of Dr. Wilkins, beforementioned, did him good Service at hand, gained him a strong Inteterest, and Authority in the University, and set him at safety, and out of the reach of his Adversaries, and also preserved the University from running into Disorder and Confusion; but after the Kings Return, it was for a while a Spoke in his Cart, and hindered his Preferment, as we shall make appear in its due place.  
About this time the Headship of jesus College became vacant, and by the direction of Dr. Mansell, the legal, but ejected Principal, who lived privately in that College, and by the Votes of the Fellows Dr. Ward was chosen and admitted Principal, but he was thought too dangerous by the Ruling Party, and they complained of it to the Proctor; whereupon he, and the Fellows who chose him, were cited to appear at White-Hall, and being there, were severely reprimanded, and in particular Mr. Vaughan, Brother to the late Lord Chief Justice, and threatened to be all Expelled, but Dr. Ward was treated with great Civility, and highly Complemented, and dismissed, not without promise of particular Favour. But he was no sooner returned to Oxford, but he found there an Order to yield Possession to Mr. Howell, one of the other Party, and then Fellow of Exeter Cellege, and he, I mean Dr. Ward, was promised upon so doing, a Stipend of Eighty pounds per Annum, which promise was never performed, and so he was defeated; but as all disappointments proved generally to his advantage, so did this also, for a short while after, he was not only chosen, and admitted, but enjoyed a better Place. Dr. Wilkins, Dr. Goddard, and perhaps two or three more, whom I need not name, used their constant endeavour to oppose the Fury, and moderate the Heats of the fiery, giddy Party, and to advance the interest of Learning, and in order to that, they concluded to get Dr. Ward more firm rooting amongst them, and did not despair of it, notwithstanding this disappointment. But here it is necessary for me to look a little backwards: In the Year of our Lord 1649. Dr. Kettle Precedent of Trinity College died; he was, as I have heard, an honest Man, and a good Governor, but in his latter time peevish, and froward, and had never any great stock of Learning. When Oxford was a Garrison for King Charles the Martyr, he would stand at the College Gate, and observe what Persons came to walk in Trinity Grove, for that was then the Oxford Hyde-park, the Rendesyous of the Nobility and Gentry. I say, he took notice of all, and usually had a Saying to every one of them, which instead of vexing them, made them laugh, then would tell the next of the Fellows he chanced to see, I met some jack Lords going into my Grove, but I think I have nettled them, I gave them such entertainment they little looked for. At my first coming to the University of Oxford, there were innumerable Bulls and Blunders fathered upon him, as afterwards upon Dr. Boldero of Cambridge. Upon Dr. Kettles death, the Fellows proceeded to an Election of a Precedent, and it lay betwixt Mr. Chillingworth, a Person justly of great Fame for his Learning, and Dr. Potter. Mr. Chillingworth had the majority of Votes; but being then at a considerable distance from Oxford, and not able to come suddenly, and take Possession, Dr. Potter laid hold upon this advantage, and was admitted; in a short time after when the University was Visited, Dr. Potter was Ejected, and Dr. Harris, Rector of Hanwell in Oxfordshire, put into his place. This Dr. Harris was a very eminent Preacher, his Hair rather white than grey, his Speech Grave, Natural, and Pathetical; I never heard any Sermons which became the Persons who pronounced them, so well as his did him. After Dr. Harris' decease, the Fellows chose Mr. Hawes, a Loyal, Learned and Modest Person, but of an infirm constitution of Health; he enjoyed this Headship but a little time, and some days before his death resigned it; whereupon Dr. Ward, to the great contentment and joy of the Moral, Sober Party, was elected Precedent, which he accepted, and accordingly took possession of it. He used great diligence and care to put all things in order, and settle the troubled Affairs of it, governing with great Prudence and Reputation; but he continued in that Station a very little while, only till 1660, that memorable Year, for the happy Return of King Charles the Second, when he resigned it to Dr. Potter; 'tis true, he left Trinity College, and Oxford, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, with an unwilling willingness, for he was contented with his Condition, and so pleased with a Collegial Life, and the Charms of that sweet place, that he would willingly have remained there the rest of his days, and in order to that, proffered Dr. Potter an Equivalent, which was refused, but yet, had he resolved to have kept it, he had not wanted sufficient ground to dispute the Title at Law; for tho' it must be confessed, Dr. Potter was illegally turned out, yet he never had a Statutable right to that place, as is before made manifest. But Dr. Ward not being willing to contend, lest it, and also resigned his Savilian Professors Place, and retired to London; what he did there, shall be the Subject of the next Chapter.   

CHAP. VIII. Of Dr. Wards being in London.  
WE have observed before, that all Disappointments which happened to Dr. Ward, even since his first ejection out of Cambridge, have proved to his advantage; but this last of not retaining the Presidentship of Trinity College, turned more notoriously not only to his private Emolument, but to the public good also: For had he kept that Headship, I mean been buried alive in Trinity College, hiding his glorious Light under that Bushel, Exeter and Salisbury could not have boasted of so good a Bishop, and Benefactor; the Church of England had wanted such a Pillar, and Asserter of its Rights, and the Poor the Houses and Benefactions he has provided for them; he might have published more Treatises in Divinity, and Mathematics, but he could not possibly have done so much good.  
On May the 29 th'. since made a perpetual Holiday by Act of Parliament, King Charles returned in Glory to his Kingdoms, from which he had been unjustly Exiled for many Years. He was no sooner fixed in his Throne, but he resolved to settle the Church, as by the Ancient Laws Established, to restore and to confirm it, all its Lands, Rights and Privileges of which it had been Sacrilegiously robbed and despoiled. To this end, several new Bishops were Consecrated, who, together with those who out lived the Storm of the Persecution, were commissioned by the King to do it effectually. Those Ministers who were ejected out of their Livings for adhering to the King's Cause, were restored, and notice was given to all who had any pretention to any Ecclesiastical Places or Dignities, at, or before such a day, nominated, to appear, and enter their Claims, for after that day the Commissioners intended to fill all the Vacancies in the Churches. You may remember what I said in the Fourth Chapter, that Bishop Brounrig had conferred the Precentorship of the Church of Exeter upon Dr. Ward many Years before. And now that Title which had lain so long dormant, and as to outward appearance dead, awaked, revived, and took place, and was accepted by the Commissioners, by whose order he was admitted Precentor, not long after he was chosen Dean, and in the same Year consecrated Bishop of Exeter. During these Transactions, Dr. Ward had frequent occasion to ride betwixt London and Oxford, which Journey he always performed in one day, upon a high-mettled, dancing, I might say, a runaway Mare, for almost any body besides him would have found her so; but he was indeed a good Horseman, and valued himself upon it: I have heard him say when he was a young Scholar in Cambridge, and used to ride in company of others to London, or elsewhere, he frequently changed Horses with those who could not make theirs go, and with those tired Jades lead the way; but this is to be reckoned amongst the least of his Accomplishments. By so often taking this Journey in the heat of the Year, he threw himself into a dangerous Fever, and lay long sick of it in Gresham-College, which not being well Cured, by reason that Dr. Goddard his Fysician, was then very full of Employment, and could not give him due attendance; I say it was not well Cured, he having not Purged after it, as it was necessary, it left in him an ill constitution of Health during the rest of his Life, and tho' he wrestled with it, and bore up against it for many Years, yet he could never subdue it; Morbum tolerare potuit, superare vero non potuit.  
Upon the promotion of Dr. Reynolds to the Bishopric of Norwich, the Church of St. Laurence jewry became Vacant, and it being in the King's Gift, was conferred upon Dr. Ward, who kept it till he was nominated Bishop of Exeter, and upon his resignation procured it for his Friend Dr. Wilkins, who was at that time wholly destitute of all Employment and Preferment; for upon the King's Restoration, and the new Modelling of the University of Cambridge, he lost the Mastership of Trinity-College, having no other Title to it than the Presentation of Richard Cromwell the short-lived Protector; however, he wronged no body, for the Incumbent was dead, and none pretended any Right or Claim to it. And as if Fortune took delight in persecuting of him, and to heap Afflictions upon Afflictions, not long after, I mean in that dreadful and almost Universal Conflagration of London, he lost not only his Books, an irreparable loss, as I myself have also since experienced, but the unsatiable and devouring Flames, consumed and reduced to Ashes all his Householdstuff, his House, and his Parsonage also. Add to this, he, I mean Dr. Wilkins, was out of favour, both at White-Hall and Lambeth, for his Marriage mentioned before in the Sixth Chapter; upon that account Archbishop Shelden, who had the Keys of the Church for a great time in his power, and could admit into it and keep out of it whom he pleased, I mean disposed of all Ecclesiastical Preferments, entertained a strong prejudice against him, so that he was now not only without any Place, but also without probability of obtaining one; so that his Fortune was as low as it could be, but he did not stay there long. I remember Bishop Ward told me at that time, I am much concerned for your Brother, and write to him oftener than I otherwise should, to keep up his Spirits and assure him of my utmost assistance, for the bettering of his Condition, lest he should imagine that I, in my Prosperity, should be unmindful of him in Adversity. And these good words were soon followed with answerable Actions, he procured for him the Precentors' place at Exeter, which was the first step he ascended towards a better Fortune; then did also the Honourable Society of Grays-Inn make choice of him for their Lecturer, and not long after, upon the death of Bishop Hall, he was made Bishop of Chester, not only without, but against the Consent of the Archbishop of Canterbury. After which, Bishop Ward introduced him into the Archbishop's presence and favour, who entertained him very obligingly, declaring that the prejudice he had against him was unjust, and if he had known him sooner, he would have been sooner preferred. Before Dr. Wilkins was settled in his Bishopric, a certain Person addressed himself to the Archbishop, and desired his Grace's Recommendation to him for a Place in his Gift. No, replied the Archbishop, that I can by no means do, it would be a very unreasonable thing in me, to desire a Favour from one whose Promotion I opposed; and they ever afterwards kept a fair Correspondence. The two other Bishops continued their old Friendship till death, tho' it is not to be denied, that they afterwards differed in their Opinions concerning the Bill of Comprehension, the Bishop of Salisbury opposing it, and the Bishop of Chester with great zeal espousing it. Upon the translation of Bishop Gauden to Worcester, Dr. Ward, without knowing any thing of it, by the Interest of the Duke of Albemarle, and Sir Hugh Pollard, than Controller, and some other of his Western Friends, whom he had obliged during his residence at Exeter, was nominated the Bishop thereof An. Dom. 1662. After he was completed Bishop, he put all things in order to go to his Diocese, and reside there; accordingly he went to Exeter, whither we will accompany him, and relate what he did there in the next Chapter.   

CHAP. IX. Of his being Bishop of Exeter.  
UPON his arrival at Exeter, he found all things in Disorder; the Bishop's Palace was in the possession of a Sugar-Baker, and put to that sweet use; the Church was parted by a Traverse, the Presbyterians and Independants dividing it betwixt them, which Inconveniences the former Bishop took no care to remove, expecting to be translated to a better Bishopric, as afterwards he was. But before we speak of Dr. Ward as a Bishop, give me leave to take a short view of what he did when he was Dean of Exeter. He first cast out of the Temple the Buyers and Sellers, who had usurped it, and therein kept distinct Shops to vent their Ware. At his Majesties Restoration the Nonconformists there being buoyed up by some powerful Friends, who for their private Interest drove on, and hoped to obtain a general Toleration of all Religions, excepting Popery, took the boldness to petition the King, that the Partition in the Cathedral might not be taken down, that they might enjoy Altar contra Altar. But to give them their due, they were so generous, as to allow one half of the Church to the use of the Episcopal Party, to whom all did of right belong, that therein Divine Service might be celebrated according to the Act of Parliament for Uniformity of Worship, reserving the other part to their selves to Meet and Hold-forth in; but their design was prevented by the early application of the Dean to the King and Council, from whom he procured an Order, to restore the Church to its ancient Form and Shape, and remove the Innovations; he accordingly caused the Partition to be pulled down, and repaired and beautified the Cathedral, the Expenses whereof amounted to twenty five thousand Pounds; he also bought a new pair of Organs, esteemed the best in England, which cost two thousand Pound. But it may be demanded, how came he by such vast Sums of Money? I answer, it was not done out of his private Purse, but out of the Church Revenues; for all the Leases belonging to that Ancient and Rich Church being expired, the renewing of them caused that plenty. But now let's consider him as Bishop: He first retrieved the Palace out of the hands of the Sugar-Baker, whom his Predecessor found and left in quiet possession; he repaired it, and made it habitable, for it was very ruinous, having been deserted before the Civil War, by the Bishops, who lived in other Houses; he took care of executing his Majesties Letters, commanding the Augmentation of poor Vicarages in that Diocese, and did it effectually; he also increased the prebend's Stipends, from Four, to Twenty Pounds a Year: He kept his constant Trienial Visitations, in the first whereof he Confirmed many thousands of all Ages and different Sexes; he also settled the Ecclesiastical Courts, and without any Noise or Clamour, reduced that Active, Subtle, and then Factious People, to great Conformity, not without the approbation even of the Adversaries themselves. At this time Falmouth, from an inconsiderable Village, usually called Pennycome-quick, being grown a great and beautiful Town, equal, if not superior to Truro, procured a Charter from King Charles, wherein the new name of Falmouth was established, and a Penalty put upon those who should call it by its old scandalous Nickname. The People of this New Town had also built a stately Church, and sent to the Bishop entreating him to Consecrate it, which he did, dedicating it to the blessed Memory of King Charles the Martyr, having first taken care, that about a hundred pound per annum should be settled for the maintenance of the Minister. During his residence at Exeter, he gained the love of all the Gentry, and had particularly the help and countenance of the Duke of Albemarle, who in all things showed himself most ready to assist him in the execution of his Jurisdiction. The Bishop did not leave Exeter till he had made that Bishopric better than he found it, which he did by procuring the Deanery of St. Burien, near the Landsend in Cornwall, to be settled upon the Bishops of Exeter for ever, by the King's Letters Patents, after the death of Dr. Weeks, who then was the Incumbent; he did not this to profit himself, for he had no prospect of ever being the better for it, 'twas only for the pleasure of doing good: It did not become void till Bishop Sparrows time, who was Bishop Wards immediate Successor; he first enjoyed it, and it does still, and I hope ever will continue in the possession of the Bishops of Exeter, and their Successors.  
Dr. Thomas Wykes the last Dean of St. Burien, was heretofore Chaplain to Archbishop Laud, I have often seen his Name to the Licensing of Books particularly to Ovid's Metamorfosis Translated by Mr. Sandys, and Printed Anno Dom. 1640. He had Wit enouf, but it was not in a wise Man's keeping, as it often happens; this appears by an Answer he gave to King Charles the First when he was in Cornwall, in the time of the Civil Wars. The Doctor being well mounted, and near his Majesty, the King spoke thus to him, Doctor you have a pretty Nag under you, I pray how Old is he? To which he, out of the abundance of the Quibbles of his heart, returned this Answer; If it please your Majesty, he is now in the Second Year of his Reign, pleasing himself with the ambiguity of the sound of that word, signifying either Kingship or Bridle. The good King did not like this unmannerly Jest, and gave him such an Answer as he deserved, which was this; Go, you are a Fool. While the Bishop was at Exeter, as he told me at my return from Italy, he received a Letter from me, dated at Rome; when there were some of the Church and Citizens with him, he craved leave to open and read it, and when he had done put it up into his Pockets; then some of the Company took occasion to ask him whence it came; he replied, from Pope at Rome. In a trice it was buzzed about the City, that the Bishop was a Papist, and held Correspondence with the Pope; and this would have been believed, and have passed for current amongst those who rejoice to hear ill of Bishops, if he had not timely undeceived them. Upon the Exaltation of Bishop Sheldon to the See of Canterbury, Doctor Henchman Bishop of Salisbury, was translated to London, and Dr. Alexander Hide, a Kinsman of the Chancellor, from being Dean of Salisbury was made Bishop thereof upon his death, for he enjoyed it but a small time. The Bishop of Exeter by the King's favour, was made Bishop of Salisbury A. Dom. 1666. After the Ceremony of the Translation was over, he set forward for Salisbury; I waited on him at his first going thither as Bishop, and spent much time with him there. He was very acceptable to his Diocese, innumerable Persons coming in throngs to meet him, and striving who should be forwardest in showing him Respect; but what was more remarkable, the tide of their Love and Affection for him was not then at the highest, but still flowed and increased as long as he lived, as we shall make appear in the next Chapter.   

CHAP. X. Of his being Bishop of Salisbury.  
AFter his public Entry and Reception, which was as great as the place could afford, the Mayor and Aldermen in their Formalities welcoming him, the Schoolmasters of the two Free Schools at the head of their Scholars Congratulating him, two choice Boys pronouncing Latin Orations upon that Subject, full of his Praises, and declaring how happy they esteemed their selves to have such a Bishop, sent them as it were from Heaven. His first care was to beautify and repair the Cathedral, tho' it did not want much reparation; for to the eternal Honour of the Loyal Gentry of that Diocese, whose Names I wish I knew, that I might, as much as in me lies, Consecrate them to Posterity, during the whole time of the Civil Wars and the King's Exile, when there was neither Bishop nor Dean to take care of it, they employed Workmen to keep that Sacred and Magnificent Pile in repair. I have been told by some who then lived in Salisbury, that they have several times seen Men at Work, sometimes on the inside of the Church, and otherwhiles on the outside; and ask them, by whom they were set on Work, received this Answer; They who employed us will pay us, trouble not yourselves to inquire who they are, whoever they are, they do not desire to have their Names known. There being therefore not much to be done as to the reparation, he employed himself in the Decoration of the Cathedral: First, at his proper Charges, Paving the Cloister, I mean that side of it which leads out of his Garden into the Church. At his Exhortation, and more than proportinable expense, the Pavement of the Church was mended where it was faulty, and the whole Choir laid with white and black Squares of Marble, the Bishops, Deans, and all the Prebendaries Stalls made New and Magnificent, and the whole Church was kept so clean, that any one who had occasion for Dust to throw upon the Superscription of a Letter, he would have a hard task to find it there. I have seen many Metropolitan Churches, but never any, nay, not that glorious Fabric of St. Peter's at Rome, which exceeds the imagination of all those who have not beheld it, was kept so neat as this in his time: Nay, the Sacrifice therein was as pure; there might be heard excellent Preaching, and Divine Service celebrated, with exemplary Piety, admirable Decency, and Celestial Music. His next care was to repair, I might almost say rebuild his Palace, which was much ruined, the Hall being pulled down, and the greatest part of the House converted to an Inn, having a Passage opened through the Close Wall to give Entrance to the Market People, and other Travellers who came through Harnham from the Western parts; what remained of the Palace was divided into small Tenements, and let out to poor Handicraft-men. This dilapidation and spoil was the work of one Van Ling a Dutchman, by Trade a Tailor, who bought it of the Parliament, when Bishops Lands were exposed to Sale: See Salisbury Canto, Part 1. Stanza 20. His Expenses in altering, repairing, and rebuilding, amounted to above two Thousand Pounds, there being little or nothing done in order to it by his Predecessors, who had the Cream of the Bishopric. While he was thus employed, I remember he came to me one morning and desired me to take a turn in the Church with him, he having a private way, as I have said before, through his Garden and the Cloisters; when we were entered, Come, said he to me, which think you will be the most convenient place for me to be buried in? Oh my Lord, said I, may that day be far off. Come, come, said he tell me your opinion, for I am in earnest. Whereupon we viewed several places, and at last agreed upon that wherein he now lies interred; so that it is not true of him, what Horace said of a Noble Roman in his time, Struis domos, Immemor Sepulchri. i e. You build Palaces and are unmindful of your Grave. While he was Bishop of Exeter, he had made, as I may call it, the Notitiae of that Bishopric, with no small pains and industry, which he bestowed, upon his removal to Salisbury, upon Bishop Sparrow his Successor; which proved not only an ease, but a light and guide to him in the management of his Affairs. After he settled at Salisbury, he began, and in a short time finished such another Book for that Diocese, wherein were particularised all the Rectories and Vicarages in that Bishopric, all the Patron's Names, with their undoubted and disputable Titles; as also the Names of all the Incumbents, with their several qualifications, as to Conformity, or Nonconformity, Learning, or Ignorance, peaceable, or contentious Conversation, Orthodox or Heretical Opinion, good or scandalous Lives; for all which he had framed peculiar Marks, which he showed and explained to me: He found by daily experience, that this stood him in great stead, and did him eminent service: For when any Clergyman of his Diocese came to him, as soon as he heard his Name, he knew his Character, and could give a shrewd guess at his business, and so was out of danger of being surprised. He had not been long thus employed, after his arrival at Salisbury, when he was seized with a violent Looseness, and a Scorbutical Atrosie, for which, by Dr. sydenham's advice, he betook himself to riding upon Salisbury Plains, which he continued the latter part of the Summer, all the Autumn, and as often as the Wether permitted in Winter: That he might perform this Exercise with more convenience, and not neglect the Affairs of his Bishipric, he borrowed a House of the Earl of Abington at Bishops-Lavington, situated in a pleasant and healthful Air, near the End of the Plains Northward of Salisbury, and the Centre of Wiltshire, and so more convenient for any of that County who had business with him, than Salisbury; it was also about four miles distant from the Devizes, a good Market-Town. Hence he set out every day, except Sundays, if the Wether permitted, nay, and sometimes when it was not seasonable, for we have been often caught in Storms of Rain and Snow, and forced to seek shelter on the Lee-side of the next Hay-Rick we could gallop to: We used to ride ten miles forwards or tantamount by our Watches, before we returned, and after Dinner, we repeated the same, or the like Journey. The Bishop continued this Exercise, till upon account he had travelled more than three thousand miles. The longer he rid, the stronger he grew, so that he did not only tyre me, but even the Grooms and Servants who used to attend him, that he has sometimes been forced to content himself with the Company of one of his meanest Servants. This Exercise set him right, and I may truly say, it was the only time that ever any Fysicians' Recipe did him good; yet he was a great lover of them and their Prescriptions, and very Liberal, I may say Prodigal in his Fees to them: He also delighted much in Fysic Books, which wrought the Effect upon him, which they usually do upon Hypocondriacal Persons, that is, made him fancy that he had those Diseases which he there found describd, and accordingly take Remedies for them. He would take Pills and Potions when he had no need of them, from which, not only I endeavourd to divert him, telling him 'twas spending the Ammunition before the Town was besieged, but even Mr. Eyre's his Apothecary, a very honest and skilful Person, who died Mayor of Salisbury, has joined with me in that request, even against his own Interest.  
To keep his Diocese in Conformity, he took great care to settle able Ministers in the great Market and Borough Towns, as Reading, Abingdon, Newberry, the Devizes, Warminster, etc. and because they are for the most part Vicarages of small value, as prebend's in the Church fell void, he bestowed them on the Ministers of these Towns He also used his endeavour to suppress Conventicles, which so angered that Party, that in the Year 1669. they forged a Petition against him, under the Hands of some chief Clothiers, pretending that they were Molested, and their Trade ruind, and that some of them employed a Thousand Men, others eight Hundred, and that this Persecution took away the Livelihood of eight Thousand Men, Women and Children. But it was made appear at the Council-Table, that this Petition was a notorious Libel, and that none of those there mentioned to be Persecuted and Ruind, were so much as Summoned into the Ecclesiastical Court; as also, that many whose Names were subscribed to that Petition, knew nothing of it: So that instead of lessening the Bishop's Favour with the King, they augmented it. Let this be said once for all, he was no Violent Man, nor of a Persecuting Spirit, as these Petitioners represented him; but if at any time he was more active than ordinary against the Dissenters, it was by express Command from the Court, sometimes by Letters, and sometimes given in Charges by the Judges of the Assizes, which Councils altered frequently; now in favour of the Dissenters, and then again in opposition to them; as it is well known to those who lived then, and had the least insight into public Affairs. 'Tis true, he was for the Act against Conventicles, and laboured much to get it pass, not without the Order and Direction of the greatest Authority, both Civil and Ecclesiastical, not out of Enmity to the Dissenters Persons, as they unjustly suggested, but of Love to the repose and welfare of the Government; for he believed if the growth of them were not timely suppressed, it would either cause a necessity of a standing Army to preserve the Peace, or a general Toleration, which would end in Popery, whether all things than had an apparent tendancy. That Act had this Effect, it showed the Dissenters were not so numerous and considerable as they gave themselves out to be, designing thereby to make the Government believe it was impracticable to quell them; for where this Act was duly executed, it put an end to their Meetings, as it was evident in his Diocese; for in Salisbury there was not one Conventicle left, and but a few in the skirts of Wiltshire, bordering upon Somerset-shire, where for want of a settled Militia, by reason of the nonage of the Duke of Somerset, the Lord-Lieutenant of that County, they sometimes met in Woods, but upon Complaint their Meetings were suppressed, and his Majesty was pleased to own and accept this as good Service to the Public, and to encourage the Bishop in it. But a little after, I know not upon what ground, the Weathercock of the Court-Council turned to the contrary Point, and one BLOOD, a Person notorious for stealing the Crown out of the Tower, and offering that barbarous violence to the Duke of Ormond, being of a sudden become a great Favourite at Court, and the chief Agent of the Dissenters; this BLOOD, I say, brought the Bishop of Salisbury a verbal Message from the King, not to Molest the Dissenters; upon which he went to wait on his Majesty, and humbly represented to him, that there were only two troublesome Nonconformists in his Diocese, whom he doubted not, with his Majesties permission, but that he should bring to their Duty, and then he named them. These are the very Men, replied the King, you must not meddle with; to which he obeyed, letring the Prosecution against them fall.   

CHAP. XI. Concerning the Bishop's Hospitality.  
BIshops are commanded by St. Paul to be Hospitable; never did any yield more punctual obedience to that Apostolical Injunction, than this Bishop of Salisbury did; for, be it spoken without any reflection, no Person in that County, or the Diocese, that ever I heard of, kept constantly so good a Table as he did, which also as occasion required, was augmented. He used to say, that he expected all his Brethren of the Clergy, who upon any business came to Salisbury, should make use of his Table, and that he took it kindly of all the Gentry who did so. Scarce any Person of Quality passed betwixt London and Exeter, but if their occasions permitted, Dined with him. The meanest Curates were welcome to his Table, and he never failed to drink to them, and treat them with all affability and kindness imaginable. He often told his Guests, they were welcome to their own, for he accounted himself but their Steward. Never was there a more hearty Entertainer; I have heard him say, 'Tis not kind nor fair, to ask a Friend that visits you, Will you drink a Glass of Wine? For besides, that by this Question you discover your inclination to keep your Drink, it also leads a modest Guest to refuse it tho' he desires it: You ought to call for Wine, drink to him, fill a Glass and present it; then, and not till then, it will appear whether he had any inclination to drink or not. When any Persons of greater quality than himself came to Salisbury, as there not infrequently did in their way to Ireland, he went to their Lodgings and invited them himself, and never failed to Treat them very splendidly. He knew not who Dined with him, unless, as I said just now, they were of his own Invitation, till he saw them at the Table. After Morning Prayers, which he seldom, unless upon urgent occasions, missed; he constantly walked up to his Chamber, and stayed there till a Servant brought word that Dinner was upon the Table. After Dinner, if any extraordinary Company were present, he would stay with them, drink a Dish or two of Coffee or Tea, while they, who had a mind to it, drank Wine, whereof there was plenty, and of the best. When the Bell Tilld, to use the Salisbury Phrase, to Evening Prayers, than he called for his Habits and went to Church, carrying with him, for the most part, all the Company, who were obliged to go to Prayers with him out of Civility, if not Devotion. Besides what he gave away at the Palace-Gate, where he constantly relieved a great number of Poor, he enquired after those the French call Paures honteaux, who wanted and were ashamed to beg, and sent them Money to their Houses. He had also a Band of Pensioners, if I may so call them, the number whereof were limited, but I do not remember of how many it consisted; these were paid Weekly, and as one died another was substituted in his place; and those poor People who could get their selves listed in this Troop, counted their selves sufficiently provided for, if not for their own, yet for the Bishop's Life, for the continuation thereof they daily and heartily put up their Petitions. He never went to take the Air, which he used to do very frequently, but he gave liberally to the Poor, not staying till they asked, 'twas enouf if they stood in the way, or casually met him on the Plains; nay I have often seen him call those who were at a distance from him and expected nothing, and give them Money. When his Coach, or if he went out a Horseback, or any of his Retinue appeared in Harnham, through which we usually passed to the Hare-Warren, all the Children would immediately leave their Play and cry out, My Lord Bishop is coming, my Lord Bishop is coming: Upon which Alarm, all the poorer Inhabitants appear at their doors, praying God to bless his Lordship, and received his Alms. He never went from Salisbury to London, or upon his Visitation, but he was accompanied part of his way by many of the Citizens, I may say of all, who either had Horses of their own, or could procure them for Love or Money, wishing him a happy Journey, a speedy and safe return. Both at his going forth, and returning back to the City, all the way from the Palace to the Close-Gate, used to be lined with regiments of Poor, many whereof upon their Knees, with their Hands elevated to Heaven, loudly, and I dare say, devoutly and heartily, praying God, either for his good Journey, or praising him for his return in safety: I write not this by hear-say, but as an Eye and Ear witness, and that not once only, but very frequently. I have said before, he often road out for his Health, and when we were upon the Plains, I say We, for I was his Fidus Achates, as constant to him as the Shadow to the Body; sometimes we by chance chopped upon the Dogs, and sometimes by my contrivance, knowing whereabouts they intended to Hunt, but however, and whenever it happened, the Bishop would ride a Ring or two very briskly, but w●en it came to Picking work, or Cold H●●ting, he would leave them, and proceed in his Promenade; but first I was sent to invite all the Gentlemen to Dine with him, whether he knew them or not; and this not once only, but Toties quoties, as long as his Health permitted. Our Airing was usually to a Hedge in Shaftsbury Road, about ten mile distant from Salisbury, thence we returned and reachd home by Dinner time. Yet notwithstanding his hospitable way of living, and splendid treating of Persons of Quality, his Alms, his private and public Benefactions, of which we shall treat in the next Chapter, I may boldly and truly say, there never was in that, or any other Episcopal See, so careful a Steward, for so he used to term himself, or so good a manager of the Episcopal Demeans. I have heard him say, If these Lands had been mine own, either by Purchase or Inheritance, I could not have been so solicitous to preserve them from damage. He had good Woods about six or seven mile from Salisbury, of which he cut down annually only so much as he made use of in repairing or building the Palace, and sold only so much as defrayed the price of the Coals which he burned in his Kitchen; neither would he suffer one Stick to be cut down for any other purpose, tho' often solicited thereunto. I remember he told me, I am resolved, who ever succeeds me, shall have no occasion to be sorry that I was his Predecessor in this Bishopric, for I will leave it better than I found it; and he did not fail to be as good as his word, as we shall make manifest in the next Chapter. He used once every Year, and sometimes oftener, ride to the Woods abovementiond and visit all the Coppices, and ask the Woodward several Questions, and give him strict charge concerning the Mounds, Fences, etc. But for all this, said he to me, for I always accompanied him when ever he rid out, these Fellows may easily Cheat me, but I suppose my frequently coming hither, unawares to them, and seeming so inquisitive, will make them more cautious. To show his care yet farther, even when the King's Commissioners came to Salisbury to buy Timber for the Royal Navy, he would not consent to the felling of one Tree, till he had received the Kings express Orders for so doing.   

CHAP. XII. Concern his Acts of Charity.  
WE have declared in the Ninth Chapter what he did for the Church of Exeter, I mean his procuring the Deanery of St. Burien, to be annexed to the Bishops of that Place. It our is work now, to show what good he did to the Bishopric and City of Salisbury, and whether he left them better than he found them. He was very kind to the City, granting them what ever they desired of him, and in particular, his Picture at full length in his Garter Robes, the work of Mr. john Greenhill, who was a Scholar of Sir Peter Lelies, an excellent Painter; this Piece is set up in the Town House, and esteemed as an inestimable Relic. He also renewed to the City a Lease of the Mansion-House, and some Lands, which were formerly my Lord Awdleys, Earl of Castle-Haven in Ireland, which, for that Lords committing Crimes not fit to be named, and being Convicted and Executed, became forfeited to the Crown, and so fell to the Bishop, to whom all Forfeitures are granted by the King's Letters Patents. For doing this, he would accept of no other gratuity than a pair of Gloves, as an acknowledgement. He also contributed largely towards making their River Navigable, not only with his Money, but Advice, and dug the first Spadeful himself when they began that Work. He also made several Journeys in their behalf to the King and Council, and answered the Objections which several Hampshire Gentlemen made against it, as I have briefly mentioned in the Salisbury Canto, Part 1. Stanza 23. To the Bishopric of Salisbury he was also a great Benefactor, by prevailing with the King to annex and unite to it for ever, that Honourable and not unprofitable Place, the Chancelorship of the most Noble Order of the Garter, the Ensigns whereof are, a Medal of Gold hanging upon a Chain of the same Metal, and he was the first Protestant Bishop who had the honour to wear it. And here I think it will not be impertinent to give a short History of this Office. The first Chancellor of the Garter was Bishop Beauchamp, Anno Dom. 1450, and that Honour was enjoyed by his Successors the Bishops of Salisbury, till the time of Cardinal Campeggio, who having incurred the displeasure of King Henry the Eighth for differing from him in the matter of the Divorce, retired to Rome, and died there, A. D. 1539. and lies buried in the Church of Santa Maria Tras' Tevere. Then had the Bishops of Salisbury enjoyed that Honour Eighty nine Years, since which time it has always been in the hands of Laymen, till it pleased King Charles the Second, upon the humble petition and claim of Dr. Ward, to restore it to him and his Successors the Bishops of Salisbury for ever, after the death of Sir Henry de Vic, the last Lay-Chancellor, and after it had been out of the See one hundred thirty and two Years: The Letters Patent bear date Novemb. 25. Anno Domini 1671. He was also very forward and liberal in promoting any good design in the way of Learning, as Dr. Castle in his Epistle Dedicatory before his Learned Lexicon testifies, in these words. Enimvero universae hae literae, plus minus septingentas libras tantum mihi porrexerunt, ad promovendum opus, in quo millenas plures infaustus exhausi, praeter plurima, atque ingentia valde, quae contraxi debita, Quid quod praenominatae Collectae summae pars maxima, quadringenta scilicit librae, procuratione atque opera solertissima prudentissimaque Reverendi admodum in Deô Patris Sethi Domini Episcopi Sarisburiensis, intra quatuordecem dies fuerant conquisitae. That is,  
But all these, speaking of the Kings, the Archbishops and other Bishop's Commendatory Letters, produced me but seven hundred pound, a little more or less, and that to promote a Work wherein I had spent some thousands, besides contracting some very great Debts. The major part of which Collection, viz. Four hundred pound, was procured for me in fourteen days, by the care and diligence of the Right Reverend Father in God Seth Lord Bishop of Salisbury. I have heard the Bishop speak with pleasure concerning this Collection, saying, the four hundred pound was contributed by the Clergy of the Dioceses of Exeter and Salisbury only; but his Modesty would not permit him to tell me what proportion thereof he gave. But the greatest and most seasonable Act of Charity, and public Benefaction, was building and endowing that Noble Pile, I mean the College of Matrons, for the entertainment and maintenance of Ten Widows of Orthodox Clergymen. I have often heard him express his dislike, if any one called it an Hospital; for, said he, many of these are well descended, and have lived in good reputation; I would not have it said of them, that they were reduced to an Hospital, but retired to a College, which has a more honourable sound. He accounted himself fortunate in purchasing Free Land whereupon to erect this Fabric, and yet more fortunate, that it was in the Close; for had it lain any where else, he must have been at the charges of a greater Structure, and endowing a Chapter, which was now needless, the Cathedral being so near, whereunto they might with ease, and were all of them engaged to repair both Morning and Evening, and stay out the whole time of Prayers, under a pecuniary penalty. During his Life he put in the Widows himself, and at his Death, he left a Catalogue of of the Names of others whom he knew, or by the recommendation of others, believed to be fit objects of his Charity, these were next in succession, and afterwards the Election was to be in the Dean and Chapter, and the Bishop of Salisbury, Alternis vicibus, by turns. This College of Matrons is a strong regular Building, within the Close of Salisbury, and a great Ornament to it. It is fitted for the reception of Ten Women, the Widows of Orthodox Ministers of the Diocese of Salisbury; and in case there should not be found so many therein, their vacancy is to be supplied out of the Bishopric of Exeter, but I fear this will never happen. They have each two Chambers and a little Garden peculiar to their selves. To the maintenance thereof the Bishop settled more than two hundred pounds a year in Free Land, which lies in the Neighbourhood; over the Gate is written in Letters of Gold, the Inscription following. D'. O. Mo. Collegium hoc Matronarum Humillime Dedicavit Sethus Episcopus Sarum Anno Domini MDCLXXXII.  
That is, To the Honour of Almighty God This College of Matrons Was most humbly Dedicated By Seth Bishop of Salisbury, In the Year of our Lord 1682.  
Two Years after he built an Hospital at Buntingford in Hertford-shire, the place of his Nativity, for Ten poor aged Men, allowing each of them Ten pound per annum, which is also a Noble Structure, and bears this Inscription. Anno Domini 1684. This Hospital was Erected and Endowed By Seth Ward, Doctor of Divinity, Lord Bishop of Salisbury, and Chancellor of the most Noble Order Of the Garter. Who was Born in this Town, within the Parish of Aspenden, and Educated In the Free-School of Buntingford.  
These poor Men are put in by Mr. Freeman and his Heirs for ever. Besides this, he augmented the Stipend of the Minister and the Schoolmaster in that Town.  
Tho' I am conscious that I have not ennumerated all his Benefactions, yet I will conclude this Chapter with his Erecting of four Scholarships at Christs-College in Cambridge, and endowing them with pound per Annum, which in that University is a considerable Allowance, the Scholarships there being generally inferior to those at Oxford, as the Fellowships better. He had designed to have placed this his Benefaction at Sidney-College, but upon some disgust altered his intention, though it is not improbable but that that College might refuse his proffer upon very good Reasons: For at Oxford no College will accept a Benefaction which only increases the number of Fellows, or Scholars, for thereby the Society is rather injured, than profited, unless the Benefactor also builds Chambers for their reception; for taking away so many Chambers, taketh away from the Fellows so many Pupils; but on the contrary, a Benefactor who will increase the Stipends of the Members of the Society, will always be very gratefully embraced.   

CHAP. XIII. Of his Friends.  
SHould I enumerate all his Friends whom I knew, I must fill two or three Leaves with Names and Titles, and this Chapter would look like a Money Act, wherein the Commissioners were all particularly set down. I shall not therefore use that dry way, I will insert but few, and those distributed into several Classes; according to the laudable Custom of England, giving Precedence to the Female Sex, and placing them in the Van. Even from his unjust expulsion out of Cambridge, which we have mentioned in its due place, he never was destitute of Friends of the fair Sex, till some few Years before his Death, never without prossers of Wives, much beyond his deserts; as the Markets go in Smithfield, to several of whom, he, to my knowledge, recommended good Husbands, and his recommendation was effectual; of these I will mention but one, for whom he also procured a good Parsonage, and he shall be Mr. Gibson, a Contemporary, a Fellow-Collegian and Fellow-sufferer in the Common Cause; he many Years after, when his Children were like Olive Branches about his Table, came from Hertford-shire to Salisbury to give the Bishop a Visit, and accosted him in this manner: My Lord, I am come to wait upon your Lordship, and to return my most humble and hearty Thanks for your many and great Kindnesses to me, I owe all to you, you have got me all that I have in this World, except my Children. The reason why he did not Marry then, as I have received from himself, was this; he had not an Estate or Preferment sufficient to maintain a Wise suitable to the Fortunes which was prosserd with them. And that he would not put it into the power of any Woman, if they should happen to disagree, as there are few, very few, if any Marriages without Dissensions, those being the happiest where they are less frequent, to upbraid him that she had made him a Man, and that had it not been for what she brought, he would not have been worth a Groat. Being made a Bishop, first of Exeter, and afterwards of Salisbury, and consequently become greater and richer, 'tis not to be imagined those proffers should diminish, I am certain they increased; I knew several Persons of great Quality and Estates, who found ways to make it known to him, that if he would address himself to them in the honourable way of Marriage, he should not want a kind entertainment. But at that time he was furnished with another reason to continue in Celibacy; he thought it not unlawful, but undecent, for a Bishop to Marry; perhaps he had in his eye the Fate of one of his Predecessors, Bishop jewel, who married after he was Bishop of Salisbury, and upon that account received so severe a Reprimand from his Brother the Archbishop of Canterbury, and laid it so much to heart, that it accelerated his death. Upon these reasons he continued unmarried till his death. But this rare Example has been followed by none of his Profession, except only Dr. Barrow, as we shall have occasion to show hereafter. 'Tis time now to take my leave of the Ladies, and proceed. While Bp. Ward resided at Exeter, George Duke of Albemarle began his Friendship with him, which continued, and augmented till his Grace's death; he did him many good Offices at Court, and defended him against the Clamours and Calumnies of the Fanatics. The Bishop also was serviceable to the Duke, he instructed his Son in the Mathematics, he also waited upon him frequently while he was in Health, and was never absent from him in his Sickness; he was with him in the last moments of his Life, he gave him the Holy Sacrament, closed his Eyes, and preachd his Funeral Sermon, which was printed, both by itself, and amongst his Works, published by james Collins as abovementioned. To him I will add the Earl of Sandwich, Vice-Admiral of England, who was his Contemporary in Cambridge, a great lover and very well skilled in the Mathematics, but most famous for his skill in Maritime Affairs, for his not only adventuring, but sacrificing his Life for his Country. The next shall be my Lord Chancellor Hide, who had the Bishop in great esteem, and treated him with intimate Familiarity. I remember when we were at Astrop Wells, he sent the Bishop a pleasant Letter by his youngest Son, wherein amongst other things, he strictly enjoins not to infuse any Mathematics into him, for fear they should render him unfit to be a Politician. To which the Bishop returned in answer, That he would obey his Lordship's Commands, and principally because De Wit was a famous Instance, That a good Mathematician could not be an able Statesman. The Gentleman who brought this Letter, together with my Lord Faulkland, my Lord Roxborough, and several other of the Nobility of England and Scotland, perished in the memorable Shipwreck of the Gloucester, which was then carrying the Duke of York to Scotland, upon the Lemane o'er, on Friday May 5. 1682.  
This Story is so wonderful and honourable for the English Seamen, that I cannot forbear telling it here; 'tis an amazing thing, that Mariners who are usually as rough as the Element they converse in, when inevitable Death was before their eyes, and to be incurred within a very few minutes; that Mariners, I say, should have that presence of Mind, that inestimable value and deference for the Duke of York, as being of the Blood-Royal, and Brother to their King, as to take care of his safety and neglect their own, to put him into a Boat, and permit no other Persons to enter into it, but those he called out of the sinking Ship, for fear of over-lading it, and as soon as they perceived the Boat clear of the Ship, and the Prince out of danger, that they all of them should throw up their Caps, and make loud Acclamations and Huzzas of Joy, as if they had obtained some signal Victory over their Enemies, and in this rapture sink to the bottom immediately, at the same instant concluding their Lives and their Jubilation. Many Reflections may be made upon this remarkable Story, but I being in haste, leave that work to others.  
I cannot positively determine, whether my Lord Clarendon was in earnest, and believed that Mathematics would render those who understood them, unfit to manage State Affairs; but if he did, I put into the Scale against him another great Man, and Politician, I mean the late Duke of Lauderdale, who has often declared in the presence of divers Persons of Quality, from some of which I had it, that in his opinion the Bishop of Salisbury was the best Speaker in the House of Lords. I will muster but one more, that shall be Anthony Earl of Shaftsbury, who was for a considerable time a great Friend to our Bishop; they interchanged many Visits, as they might conveniently do, their Houses in the Country being but at a small distance one from the other, and often consulted about Public Affairs; nay, after they went several ways in Parliament, though their Intimacy was at end, yet their mutual Esteem continued: I have seen a printed Speech of the Earls, wherein he Treats the Bishop very honourably, preferring his Speeches before the rest of his Opponents, as having more of Argument in them, and being closer to the purpose.   

CHAP. XIV. A Continuation of the former.  
IF I should persist in this way of enumerating the Bishop's Friends 
Dr. Lluellyn. ; There's one, there's two, and so on like Faggots, I should tyre the Reader and myself; therefore as to those that remain, I shall serve them up in Clusters, excepting two or three, concerning whom I intent to treat more at large. The Bench of Bishops had that esteem for him, that they selected him to observe and reply to the Earl of Shaftsbury, if he should move any thing to the detriment of the Church; for this Earl was a Person of great Ability, and had a peculiar Talon to promote or hinder any thing passing the House of Peers. To mount a step higher, our Bishop's Probity, Wisdom, and Ability to manage the great and Arduous Affairs of State, was in so great esteem for a considerable while, that he was spoke of both at Court, and in the City, as the fittest Person to supply the place of the Archbishop of Canterbury, Lord-Keeper, or Lord-Treasurer, if any of them should become vacant. And I am confident it pleased him more to be esteemed worthy of such Trusts, than to have enjoyed the best of them I well remember the time, when he told me, he had the proffer of the Bishopric of Durham, after Bishop Cousins death. Pray my Lord, said I, accept it, we shall have brave Horses there, and the long Journey betwixt Bishops-Auclands and London, will conduce much to the meliorating of your Health He replied, I just now entered it in my blue Book, that this day I refused it. I replied, and pray my Lord, why did you so? Because, said he, I did not like the Conditions; but what they were, it would have been unmannerly for me to inquire, and he did not think it convenient to tell me. This is refusing so rich a Bishopric, is so great an Act of Self-denial, that I have reason to fear, 'twill not be credited upon my single Testimony; I shall therefore call in another Witness, against whom there can be no Exception, to corroborate mine; he shall be no lesser a Person than the present Bishop of Durham, whom not long after I met at Reading, being then there with the Bishop of Salisbury in his Visitation, I having had the honour to have been acquainted with the Bishop of Durham, even from his first admission into Lincoln College in Oxford, laid hold on this occasion to felicitate his promotion to Durham: He replied, 'Twas proffered to your Bishop, meaning the Bishop of Salisbury, but he did not think fit to accept of it. And here now I should add the Nobility and Gentry of Wiltshire, Berkshire, Devonshire, and Cornwall, whose Diocesan he had been, but I remember my promise, to ease both the Reader and myself. I proceed to the greatest of his Friends situated in high Places: He was very much in favour with the King, and the Duke of York, before he declared himself of the Romish Persuasion, whom he Treated magnificently at Salisbury, and also with the Archbishop of Canterbury, who used to entertain him with the greatest kindness and familiarity imaginable; in his common discourse to him, he used to call him Old Sarum: And I have heard the Archbishop speak of him more than once, as the Person whom he wished might succeed him.  
About this time, as it is notoriously known, there were Intrigues carried on by a Party at Court, to introduce the Romish Religion, and make the Power of the King Unlimited, and Arbitrary, whereunto all Persons were to obey without reserve; which words were in one of the Proclamations sent to Scotland. But the Bishop of Salisbury not swimming with the Stream▪ he lost at least one of his great Friends, and with him his favour at Court; the Effects whereof appeared not long after, the manner thus.  
The Revenue belonging to the Order of the Garter, was usually received by the Chancellor, and he paid the Officers and the poor Knights of Windsor, the Surplus the King had formerly granted to Sir Henry de Vic, and it was quietly possessed by him till he died, out of which he was to defray the Charges and Fees of Admission of foreign Princes and Noblemen who were elected into that Order: For this also, the Bishop of Salisbury had the King's Hand, which Grant had been firm and irrevocable, had the Bishop Sealed it with the Seal of the Order, which he kept in his possession, or caused it to pass the usual Offices, which had been easy for him to have done then, being in much favour at Court. But he made use of neither of these Corroborations, and afterwards smarted for it sufficiently. In the last Year of the Reign of King Charles the Second, and the first of the precipitous decay of the Bishop of Salisburys Intellectuals, some sagacious Courtier found out a Flaw in this Grant; whereupon the Bishop was sent for up to London, and obliged to refund the uttermost penny, which in so many Years amounted to a considerable Sum, all which his Majesty took, without any scruple or remorse.   

CHAP. XV. Concerning myself.  
YOU may remember, at the beginning of the last Chapter, I threatened to treat at large, of two or three of the Bishop's second rate Friends; and here, as the Saying is, I will make bold to christian mine own Child first, for Charity begins at home, and take this opportunity to put in my claim to that glorious Title. I say therefore, and proclaim it to the World, that I was his hearty, intimate, and unfeigned Friend; I doubt not but that this proud Assertion will provoke some testy old-fashion Filosofer, to take me up severely, that such an inconsiderable Fellow as I, should presume to style myself a Friend to so great a Prelate, since it is evident out of Aristotle, that Amicitia est inter pares, Where there is no Equality there can be no Friendship. But, I pray you Sir, have a little patience, and hear how I defend myself against Ipse dixit, I will make use of the Shield of Horace, who lived in a greater Court, and may be presumed to understand good Manners as well as Aristotle, and I make no doubt, but that he had as much Wit too. This I rather believe, because he did not think fit to trouble the World with entelecheias, entities and quiddities, and such other abstruse unintelligible Metafysical Notions. I say, this Horace uses the word Friend reciprocally betwixt Maecenas and himself; Quod te sortitus Amicum. i e. That you are my Friend. And in another place, jubesque esse in Amicorum numero. That is, You have ordered me to be registered amongst your Friends. Nay, he goes yet farther, and boldly averrs, that he deserved to be so, and that, whoever doubted of it, must esteem Maecenas a Fool, and not able to choose a worthy Friend, when he took so much care and caution about it. Presertim cautus dignos assumere. That is, You do not choose your Friends hastily and hand over head. But I shall not bear pace with Horace so far, I only assert, that there was not a greater inequality betwixt the Bishop of Salisbury and Me, than betwixt Maecenas and Horace. Our Poet was meanly descended, and Poor, Maecenas had the Etrurian King's Blood in his Veins, and was immensly Rich, and, what is yet greater, chief Favourite to Augustus, the most happy and glorious of all the Roman Emperors, and Governor of Rome, the Queen of Cities, and at that time, the greatest and richest Town in the known World. Having thus made the way plain, I hope I may say without contradiction, that I was the Bishop of Salisburys Friend, and he was mine. But some may yet object, how will you make this appear? Have a little patience, and read on. I did him all the Services in my power, I suffered Cold with him upon Salisbury Plains, and Heat in his Chamber where there was always a great Fire, though he did not use to sit by it; I made it my business to delight him, and divert his Melancholy, nay I may truly say, I profited him too. I presented him with an excellent Pad Nag, in whom he took much delight, not permitting any one to ride him besides himself, and valued him so highly, that he refused fifty five Guineas, which Mr. Baptist May, Privy Purse to King Charles the Second proffered for him; but this Nag afterwards unfortunately died, by a tread upon one of his hinder Heels, notwithstanding the joint endeavours of the best Farriers to cure him: But I forget myself, I am writing the History of Horses. This Nag was given me by my honoured Friend Charles Lord Clifford, whose kindness I can never enouf acknowledge, and whose death I can never sufficiently lament. I presented him also with some curious Books which I had collected in my Travels, and I taught him French and Italian, and went through several Treatises with him in those Languages. I read to him frequently, till my Eyes, by a vehement Inflammation, were useless to me, and rendered me less serviceable to him, for above a Years time. This Malady was perfectly cured, by God's blessing upon Dr. Turberviles' application, as I have gratefully acknowledged in the eighteenth and nineteenth Stanzas of the First Part of the Salisbury Canto. I hope therefore, 'twill not be thought that the Bishop's kindness to me was wholly undeserud, for Amor, ut Pila, vices exigit. That is, Love, like a Ball or a Shuttlecock, must be returned, and held up on both sides. I acknowledge he was very kind and obliging to me, but yet I would not have the Reader run away with an opinion, that he heapd mountains of Gold upon me; I had, I acknowledge, my Diet and Lodging with him as long and as often as I pleased; and when we Travelled together, or to speak with more respect, when I accompanied him or attended him in any Journey, he defrayed my Charges, as one of his Retinue. Besides this, I never received of him, directly or indirectly, in Money, or Moneys-worth, to the value of Ten Pounds; and after his death, my Name was not so much as mentioned in the Will, and it cannot be imagined that I expect any Reward for writing his Life now, so many Years after he has been bereaved of it; tho' I confess he did, more than once, proffer me Money when I was Sick in London. To what I said before, that his Favours were not wholly undeserud, I will take the boldness to add here, neither were they wholly cast away, for they fell into good Ground, and have produced a Gratitude in me, which lives, and increases still, tho' he is dead. 'Tis not every one that will continue his Devotions and Thanksofferings, when the Altar is turned to Dust, and the Saint removed. He did as great and greater Favours to many others, which puts me in mind of that Saying in the Gospel, Nun Decem facti sunt mundi? Sed ubi sunt novem? That is, Were there not Ten cleansed? but what's become of Nine of them? not any returning Thanks besides this one. There are yet two other good Friends of the Bishops, and mine also, who must not be passed over in silence; Persons of that Eminency for Learning, Piety, and Virtue, that I never thought myself worthy to unloose their Sh●o-latchets, tho' they did not make that figure in the World, as those great ones mentioned in the last Chapter. These were Mr. Laurence Rook, Professor of Geometry in Gresham-College, and Dr. Isaac Barrow, of whom we shall treat in order, in the ensuing Chapters, only begging leave for a small digression between, concerning. Dr. Turbervile,   

CHAP. XVI. Of Doctor Turbervile.  
HAving casually mentioned Dr. Turbervile in the precedent Chapter, I should esteem myself unpardonable, as guilty of the greatest Ingratitude, to dismiss him in so few words; him, to whom, under God, I owe my Sight, a blessing, in my opinion, equal, if not preferable, to Life itself, without it▪ It was he, who twice rescued me from Blindness, which without his aid, had been unavoidable, when both my Eyes were so bad, that with the best I could not perceive a Letter in a Book, nor my Hand with the other, and grew worse and worse every day. Therefore, though I might treat of him as a Friend to the Bishop, I chose rather to introduce him as mine, because I was more intimately acquainted with him, and as it appears, by what has been said before, infinitely obliged to him.  
Dr. Turbervile was born at Wayford, in Somerset-shire, Anno. Dom 1612, of an ancient Equestrian Family, there being in the Church of Beer only, the Tombs of no less than fifteen Knights of that Name, as I am credibly informed, for I confess I have not seen them. By his Mother's side he was Nobly extracted from the Family of the Da●bignies, which has afforded this Kingdom many Peers; this Name did his Mother's Father, who was also his Godfather, give him when he was Baptised. Upon his going to the University, his Mother advisd him to make the Diseases of the Eyes his principal study, assuring him, he would find it turn to a good account. He was admitted in Oriel College in Oxford, and there took the Degree of Dr. of Fysic▪ When the Civil Wars broke out, he left the University, and bore Arms in defence of the King, Church, and the Established Laws; he was in Exeter when it was besieged, and till it was surrendered to the Parliament Forces. Whilst he was shut up therein, he and his Comrade run in Debt a hundred pounds each, in Chalk behind the Door; he told me, that his Landlord came into their Chamber, leading his Daughter by the hand, and courteously proffered to Cancel the Debts of either of them who should Marry her: The Dr. valiantly resisted this Temptation, and chose rather to pay his Debts in ready Money, which he did shortly after; the other accepted the Terms, and had his Wife's Portion presently paid him; viz. His Scores wiped out with a wet Dishclout.  
By the Articles, the Garrison might return to their Dwellings, and live there unmolested; he accordingly went to Wayford, and Married his only Wife, by whom he had no Children, and who died a few Months before him. At his own House, and at Cr●okhorn, the next adjacent Market-Town, he practised some time, but finding those Places not capable to entertain the multitude that resorted to him, he removed to London, with an intent to reside there; but the Air of that City not agreeing with his Constitution, he left it, and fixed his abode in Salisbury, whence he made several Journeys to London, either upon his own occasion, or called thither by some Persons of Quality, wanting his Advice. Once he was sent for by the Duchess of York, to Cure the Princess of Denmark, than a Child, labouring under a dangerous Inflammation in her Eyes, and a breaking out in her Face, the Cure of which had been attempted in vain by the Court Fysicians. These despised Dr. Turbervile, looking on him as a Country Quack, and demanded what Method he would use, and to see, approve, or reject his Medicaments, before he applied them, which he refused, telling her Royal Highness, that if she pleased to commit her Daughter to his sole management, he would use his utmost endeavour to Cure her, but he would have nothing to do with the Fysicians. He told me, he expected to learn something of those Court Doctors, but, to his amazement, he found them only Spies upon his Practice, and wholly ignorant as to the Lady's Case; nay farther, that he knew several Midwives and Old Women, whose Advice he would rather follow than theirs. The Duchess yielded, the Surgeons and Fysicians were dismissd, and he alone entrusted with the Lady, whom, to his great reputation and some profit, in few months, fewer than could be expected, he perfectly cured of both those Distempers. I said some profit, for though the Duke ordered him six hundred pound, he could never receive more than half of it; which, considering the Quality of the Patient, the Expense of the Doctor's Journey to and from London, and for Lodging, and Diet there, his long attendance at Court, and neglecting other Patients, cannot be esteemed a competent Gratuity.  
Many Years after he was called up again, by one of the greatest and ancientest Peers of this Kingdom, to whom, after having attentively inspected his Eye, he spoke after this manner; My Lord, I might bear you in hand, a Western Phrase, signifying to delay or keep in expectation, and feed you with promises, or at least hopes, that I should Cure you in some competent time, and so cause your Lordship to be at great expense to no purpose; I cannot Cure you, and I believe no Man in England can. The Earl answered, Such and such will undertake it for a hundred pound. To which the Dr. replied, I have so great an Honour for your Lordship, and so much wish your Welfare, that I will joyfully give a hundred Guineas out of my own Purse, to the Person who shall restore your Sight in that Eye. I confess I am not able to Cure it, but I can reduce it to a better figure. Thus they parted; this Nobleman is living, and in a very Eminent Station at my writing this, but has not recovered that Eye, nor is in any hopes of it, being long since convinced it is incurable.  
Dr. Turbervile was no boaster, nor would he promise to Cure any Distemper; but when Patients came, he would first look into their Eyes, then tell them their Diseases, and his opinion concerning th●m; to some he would say, you're Incurable, and would not meddle with them; to others, that he had often Cured such a Malady, and sometimes failed of it, but if they would make use of him, he would do his best.  
He generally prescribd to all, shaving their Heads and taking Tobacco, which he had often known to do much good, and never any harm to the Eyes. He did not rely upon two or three Waters or Powders, as most do, for he throughly understood all the Simples and Ingredients, conducing to the Cure of Eyes, compounding Medicaments out of them, with the manner and season of applying them. He has often said to me, during my long being under his hand, after inspecting my Eyes, I know what to give you now, but cannot tell what I shall to morrow; this Water would make others blind, but your Eyes will bear it. Hence it follows, that it is at best, but by Chance, if such Maladies are cured at a distance, I mean, when the diseased are so far removed from the Artist, that he cannot visit them often, and observe the Operation of his Medicaments.  
I have said before, that the Doctor was Loyal, I will add, he was also a Pious Man▪ and a good Christian, that he constantly frequented the Public Prayers, and Sermons, and often received the Holy Sacrament with exemplary Piety and Devotion.  
Add to this; He was far from being Covetous; he Curd the Poor Gratis, and received from others what they pleased to give him; never, that I knew, making any Bargain for so much in hand, and the rest when the Cure is perfected, as some do. I could not force any thing upon him, for his Medicines and extraordinary Care, unless it were a Cane, a Tobacco-Box, or some new Book, though I was indebted to him for all the Comforts of my Life.  
He has cured several who were born blind, but I do not look upon that as so great a thing; for the cure of such, if curable, for there are several sorts of Cataracts uncurable, consists wholly in this; viz. In knowing when the connate Cataract is fit to be Couched, in having a steady Hand, and skill to perform that Operation, to be able to prevent, or at least, remove the pains which usually follow, and sometimes kill the Patient: But to reduce fallen and inverted Eyelids to their proper place and Tone, to cure inveterate Ulcers, and Inflammations of a blackish colour, requires a consummate Artist. Hic Labour, hoc opus est.  
To proceed; his Fame brought multitudes to him, from all parts of this and the neighbouring Kingdoms, and even from America, whereof take this Instance: I met casually a Friend upon the Exchange, who told me, as he was walking upon Tower-Wharf that morning, he saw a young Woman coming out of a Boat, who as soon as she had set foot on Land, kneeled down and said these words, which he being near overheard. Oh Lord God, I pray thee, that I may find Dr. Turbervile living, and not make this long Voyage in vain. To whom he replied, Madam, be of good comfort, he is alive, and in good health, I have received a Letter from him very lately. Your News, she answered, is more acceptable to me than if you had given me a thousand pounds. What follows I had from the Doctors own mouth: She went to Salisbury, and by God's blessing on the Doctor's endeavours, was perfectly cured; but her Joy did not last long, for in her return to jamaica, of which Island her Husband was one of the principal Inhabitants, she died of the Smallpox in London.  
This Concourse forementioned, was very beneficial to the Inns and private Houses in Salisbury, being dispersed through all the quarters of the City, insomuch, that one could scarce peep out of doors, but he had a prospect of some led by Boys, or Women, others with Bandages over one, or both Eyes, and yet a greater number wearing green Silk upon their Faces, which if a Stranger should see, without knowing the reason of that Fenomenon, I should not wonder, if he believed and reported the Air of Salisbury to be as pernicious to the Eyes as that of Orleans is to the Nerves, where almost one third of the Inhabitants are Lame. The Rendezvouz of these Hoodwinked People was at the Doctor's House, whither I frequently resorted, either to be dressd myself, or see others: I saw many remarkable Passages, whereof I shall relate but two.  
The first is of a Countryman, whose Eye was Bloodshot, who spoke thus to the Doctor: I am a little troubled with a sore Eye, which I am come to thee to mend. Which Eye is it, said the Doctor? This, he replied, pointing to it. The Doctor answered, That is your best Eye. I see as well with that, replied the Country Fellow, as thou dost, or any Man in England. Whereupon the Doctor claps his Hand before that Eye he complained of, and asked, What see you now? At which he cried out, I see nothing, I am blind; though to all the rest who were there, that seemed a good Eye.  
The other is of such another Person who came to the Doctor upon the like account; his Eye was Protuberant and could not be contained within the Lids, and seemed like a piece of raw Flesh; the Doctor placed him in a Chair, and with a pair of Scissors cut large Gobbets, the blood trickling down his Cheeks in abundance, and yet he seemed no more concerned, than if it had been a Barber cutting his Hair: I was surprised at his behaviour, and said to one of the bystanders, Without doubt, this is a Married Man, otherwise 'twere impossible he should be so patient: Which he overhearing, in the midst of his Torment, burst out into a loud laughter, and replied, No indeed, I am but a Bachelor.  
To conclude this long Chapter, Dr. Turbervile died at Salisbury the 21 st. of April, in the Year of our Lord▪ 1696, and of his Age the 85 th'. and left a considerable Estate in Money, betwixt a Niece of his Wives, and his Sister Mrs. Marry Turbervile, who now practices in London with good Reputation and Success: She has all her Brother's Receipts, and having seen his Practice during many Years, knows how to use them. For my part, I have so good an opinion of her Skill, that should I again be afflicted with sore Eyes, which God forbid, I would rely upon her Advice, rather than upon any Pretenders or Professors in London, or elsewhere. He is Buried in the Cathedral Church in Salisbury.  
ADIEU my dear Friend, à rivederci, till we meet and see one another again, with Eyes which will never stand in need of a COLLYRIUM.  

His EPITAF.  
M. S.  
NEar this Place, lies Interred the most Expert, and Successful Oculist that ever was, perhaps that ever will be, Doctor Dawbigny Turbervile, Descended from two Families of those Names, than which, there are few more Ancient and Noble. During the Civil Wars, he bore Arms for the King. After the Surrender of Exeter, he lived at Wayford, and Crookhorn; but those Towns not affording▪ Convenience to his numerous Patients, he removed to London, intending to settle there, but not having his health, he left it, and lived in Salisbury more than Thirty Years, doing Good to all, and being beloved by all. His great Fame caused multitudes to flock to him, not only from all parts of this Kingdom, but also from Scotland, Ireland, France, and America. He died April 21st. 1696, in the 85th. Year of his Age. And left his Estate betwixt his only Sister and Niece, at whose Expenses this Monument was Erected.  
Doctor WALTER POPE wrote this Epitaf, to perpetuate his Gratitude, and the Memory of his Friend and Benefactor.    

CHAP. XVII. Of Mr. ROOK.  
MR. Laurence Rook was born in Kent, of a good Family, and educated in Cambridge, and when Dr. Ward was transplanted to Oxford, he came thither, and seated himself in Wadham-College, for the benefit of his Conversation, bringing with him two young Gentlemen of the Family of Oxenborogh, to whom he was Tutor. He was very eminent in the famous Filosofical Meeting, which was after turned into the Royal Society. After the Kings Return, he left Oxford, and repaired to London, with his Friend Dr. Ward, and was chosen, first Professor of Astronomy, and afterwards of Geometry, in Gresham-College. He was also one of the first Members of the Royal Society. He was of a melancholy Temper and Aspect, his Complexion swarthy, his Eyes sunk in his Head more than ordinary, his Voice hoarse and inward, a sign that his Lungs were not sound; he was also much subject to the Scurvy, for which he used frequently to take the Juice of Scurvygrass pressd out of the Leaves without any other Preparation. He was profoundly skilled in all sorts of Learning, not excepting Botanics and Music, and the abstrusest Points of Divinity. He was my intimate Friend, and in my judgement, the greatest Man in England for solid Learning, Semper excipio Platonem, Tranne Rinaldo, for Dr. Barrow had not then reachd his Zenith. I durst venture my Life upon the Truth of any Proposition he asserted, either in Mathematics, Natural Filosofy, or History; for I never knew him affirm any thing positively, that was dubious. I have said to him, Mr. Rook, I have found out the reason of such a Fenomenon▪ and given him my Arguments for it, which when he had heard, he has often replied in this manner; And why may it not as well be thus, bringing his reasons for another Hypothesis. Lord, said I then to him, now you confound me, pray tell me what is your Opinion? To which his usual Answer was, I have no Opinion. He was very modest and sparing of his words, unless amongst intimate Friends, and never talked idly; I may truly say, I never was acquainted with any Person, who knew more, and spoke less. I used in all Company to magnify and extol his Learning and Ingenuity, as it deserved; insomuch, that an eminent Citizen's Wife desired me to help her to a sight of this prodigy of Perfection, and to bring him upon a day appointed, to Dine with her Husband, who was an ingenious Person, and well known to us both. I prevailed with him to go, tho' not without some reluctancy. Thither we went, and found there several Strangers, whom Madam had invited, like the Widow in the Gospel, with a Come, come Neighbours, and for the Man that is so Famous. Amongst the Guests there were some who valued their selves for their Wit and Learning, more than they ought; these towards the latter end of the Dinner, began to show their Parts, and fell upon several Arguments, talking ignorantly, dogmatically, and ridiculously, which Mr. Rook heard, I cant say with patience, but without interposing one word. After Dinner, the Mistress of the House came insultingly to me, saying, I'll never take your word more for an Ingenious Man; you saw, how he let my Friends assert what they pleased, and was not able to hold up the Cudgels against them; nay he did not speak one Quibble, or make one brisk Repartee all Dinner time; is this your magnifyd Wit? Madam, I replied, there's a time for all things; I assure you he can discourse as well as those City Wits your friends, but I cannot tell you the reason of his silence. Afterwards I asked him why he let those Fools run on at such a rate, when it had been easy for him, with one word, to have convinced them of their ignorance, and put them to silence. I remember he gave me this Answer. 'Tis true, they were a company of positive, ignorant, and selfconceited Fools; if I had interposed, it was a thousand to one, I should not have made them wiser, and as much odds, that I should have made them mine Enemies. I will make bold with myself, and here relate a Passage, which equally shows my Folly, and his Wisdom and Sagacity.  
When I was a young Student at Oxford, I had an old cast Soldier for my Bed-maker, amongst other questions, I asked him where he had served; he answered, both in Flanders and France: Then you speak French, I replied: Yes, Master, said he, and very well: What, said I, is French for such and such a thing? To which when he had answered, Will, said I, you shall be my Master, and teach me French: With his help, and some silly Books, I soon thought I had attained to the mastery of the French Language; and not long after I went to London, carrying this opinion of myself with me. Being arrived there, I wished with great impatience, for Sunday: Sunday came, I repaired early to the French Church in Thread-Needle-street: I was very attentive, and stayed there a considerable time, but, to my great mortification, I understood not one word the Minister spoke. I was amazed, and considered how this could be; at last it came into my remembrance, that I had heard, the French and Dutch did once a Month interchange Churches, which was true, and that it was my misfortune to come upon that Day. This satisfied me, and kept alive my good opinion of my skill in French, which this accident had almost destroyed. Upon this I went to Mr. Rook, and declared to him my Adventure; Mr. Rook, said I to him, you know I understand French very well: I know, said he, that you say so: I'll tell you, I replied, a strange Accident that befell me: I went to the French Church, and though I was very attentive for a good while, I came away as ignorant as I entered the Church, not understanding so much as one word. But at last I found out the reason of it, and contented myself, considering that it might be the turn of the Dutch to Preach there that Sunday, for you know they once a Month change Churches. 'Tis true, said he, it might be so, but answer me one Question; Did the Minister Preach with his Hat on or off? I replied, His Head was covered: Then, said he, 'twas a French Sermon; and now I hope you are convinced how well you understand that Language. This just reproof abated my Pride, and made me entertain a meaner opinion of my Accomplishments, and went a great way towards my Cure, which was afterwards completed by an Accident which befell me in France, and I think I have had no return of that Disease since. Which Story, tho' it makes little to my Credit, take as follows.  
In making the Grand Tour of France, we lodged at a Village near La Rochel, whose Name I have forgot; the Travellers were so many, that we were forced to Sup in a Barn, upon several Tables and Forms, there being no room in the Inn capable of so great a Company. The Supper and Wine was good, and I had taken a cheerful Cup, though not to excess, yet sufficient to cause me to do that, which otherwise I should not have done. The Scholars of Oxford, and I amongst the rest, had a foolish Frolic when they were in their Merriment, to twirl round the Hats of those who sat near them, and call them Cuckolds. This did I, not considering where, or in what Company I was, to a French Gentleman who sat over-against me: upon which he immediately leaps from his Seat, runs to me, and kisses me on both Cheeks, adding these words; Sir, I am more obliged to you than to any Person in the World. And why, Sir? replied I. Because, said he, you have picked me out for so good a natured Man, that would not take this action of yours for an Affront. I replied, with much shame, Sir, you have Cured me, I humbly thank you for it; had I met with a Person of less discretion, who could not distinguish betwixt an ignorant Strangers Frolic, and a designed Affront, it might have endangered my Life, whereas I shall now only lose an ill Custom, which is better lost than retained.  
But to return to Dr. Rook: He had with great Study, and many Observations, almost completed the Theory of the Satellites of jupiter; I say almost, for he told me, he wanted but one Observation more, upon such a Night, which happened when he was sick in Bed, and very near his death. He desired me to go to the Society, who were then sitting, and present his Service to them, and acquaint them, that if he had been in Health, to have made an Observation that ensuing Night, he should have completed the Theory of the Satellites of jupiter, but since now it was impossible for him to do it, he desired some others might be employed; but nothing came of it, and his Papers, which he left to the Bishop of Exeter, for aught I know, have since perished. Dr. Scarboroughs House was, as I have declared before in the Third Chapter, the Rendezvous of most of the learned Men about London, especially of those of the Royal Party, in the Year 1649, but how long before I cannot exactly pronounce, but I guess it must be about three Years, that is from the Surrender of Oxford, after the King had made his escape thence in disguise, and retired to the Scotch Army, who then, in conjunction with the English, besieged Newark, Anno Dom. 1646. At which time, Dr. Scarborough left Oxford, and began to practice in London; amongst those who frequented his House, was Mr. Hobbs, then newly arrived from France, where he had obtained a great reputation for his Book De Cive, which is a good Book in the main, and much better than his Leviathan; for in the first, there is Verbum Sapienti, enouf said, to let the intelligent Reader know what he would be at; but in his Leviathan he spreads his Butter so thin, that the courseness of his Bread is plainly perceived under it. This Mr. Hobbs, I say, was just come from Paris, in order to Print his Leviathan at London, to curry favour with the Government. He had a good conceit of himself, and was impatient of Contradiction: As he was Older than any of that Convention, he also thought himself Wiser; if any one objected against his Dictates, he would leave the Company in a passion, saying, his business was to Teach, not Dispute. He had entertained an aversion to Dr. Ward, for having written something against him, as we have mentioned in the Fourth Chapter; and before he would enter into the Assembly, he would inquire if Dr. Ward was there, and if he came not in, or if Dr. Ward came thither while he was there, Mr. Hobbs would immediately leave the Company. So that Dr. Ward, though he much desired it, never had any conversation with Mr. Hobbs. About this time Mr. Hobbs published a little Treatise concerning Mathematics, wherein, amongst other things, he pretends to give the Square of a Circle; which when Mr. Rook read and considered, he found it false, and went to Mr. Hobbs to acquaint him with it, but he had no patience to hear him; therefore when he went next to visit Mr. Hobbs, he carried with him a Confutation of his Quadrature, and left it behind him at his departure. Mr. Hobbs finds and reads it, and by want of attention, casts it up wrong, for it was accurately Calculated, and truly written, and thence insultingly concludes, since that Learned Persons Confutation was false, his own Quadrature must of necessity be true. A Year or two before Mr. Rookes death, the Marquis of Dorchester, who professd so great knowledge in almost all sorts of Learning, being a Doctor of Fysic, admitted into the College and practising, a Counsellor at Common Law, and at Doctors-Commons, etc. was pleased to make choice of Mr. Rook for his Companion, and Fellow-labourer in Filosofy and Mathematics; the Marquis lived then at his House at Highgate, from whence every Wednesday, he used to bring Mr. Rook in his Coach to the Royal Society, then sitting at Gresham-College. The last time Mr. Rook came from thence, he walked it, and that so fast, in the heat of Summer, that he sweat, and caught Cold upon it, and finding himself much indisposed, lodged at his Chamber in the College that Night. Next morning I went to visit him, and perceived his Countenance much altered, more than is usual in sick Persons, in so short a time; he was not very hot, nor was his Pulse high, his Fever being Internal and very Malignant. All the best Fysicians in London, for they were all his Friends, and Acquaintance came to see him, and went away presently, shaking their Heads, and despairing of his recovery; but yet that they might seem to do something, they ordered him to Bleed, to be Blistered, to have Plasters applied to his Wrists, and the soles of his Feet: when the Surgeon came, he appointed him to open such a Vein, for under that there lies no Artery; this he did to prevent an Aneurism. He made a Nuncupatory Will, leaving what he had to his old Friend Dr. Ward, then newly nominated to the Bishopric of Exeter; the Bishop Buried him decently, at St. Martin's Outwich, near Gresham-College, and his Corpse was attended to the Grave by most of the Fellows of the Royal Society who were then in Town, lamenting theirs, and the Learned World's loss. In his Will he ordered that his Executor might receive what was due to him by Bond, if they who were bound did proffer the payment willingly; but I would not, said he, have him Sue the Bonds; for as I never was in Law, or had any Contention with any Man in my life, neither would I be after my death. In the Memory of his deceased Friend, Bishop Ward gave to the Royal Society a large Pendulum Clock, made by Fromantel, and then esteemed a great Rarity, and set it up in the Room of their Meeting, upon which were engraud these words:  
Societati Regali ad Scientiam Naturalem promovendam institutae, dono dedit. Reverendus in Christo Pater Sethus Episcopus Exon, ejusdem Societatis Sodalis, in memoriam Laurentii Rook viri in omni literarum genere instructissimi, Collegii Greshamensis primum Astronomiae deinde Geometriae Professoris dictaeque Societatis nuper sodalis, Qui obiit Junii 26. Anno Dom. 1662. That is,  
Seth Bishop of Exeter, gave this to the Royal Society to be set up in the place of their Meeting, in Memory of Mr. Laurence Rook, a Person throughly skilled in all sorts of good Literature; first, Astronomy, afterwards Geometry Professor in Gresham-College, who died the 26. of June, in the Year of our Lord, 1662. What I have more to say of him, shall be delivered in the ensuing Chapter.   

CHAP. XVIII. A Continuation of the precedent Chapter.  
THey who are desirous to know more of Mr. Rook, may, if they please, have recourse to what Dr. Barrow says of him in his Auguration Speech, when he succeeded him in the Professor of Geometrys place in Gresham-College. This Oration is printed in the fourth Volume of Dr. Barrows Works; and what concerns Mr. Rook, begins in the Ninety third Page, towards the bottom of it. There they will find a great, and yet a just and true Character of him, as all those who knew him must acknowledge, and that managed with much Art, and written with great Eloquence; but what is most remarkable, he begins with an admirable turn of Wit, making use of a Topic to gain Credence with his Auditory, which seems adapted to work the contrary Effect. Before he enters upon his Panegyric, he francly confesses that he did not know Mr. Rook; now one would think, this should strike a damp upon the Auditors, and cause them to reason thus: If this Orator knew not the Person whom he undertakes to praise, what reason have we to believe what he says of him? certainly we have none at all. Which Objection he thus anticipates: Even for that, says he, you ought to give greater Credit to my Words; for had he been my Acquaintance, near Relation, or intimate Friend, I might have been bribed by my Love to him, and suspected to have looked on him with Magnifying Glasses, and have both perceived and represented his Virtues greater than they were; but now I am free from any such suspicion, speaking of him only by Hear-say, or Report; but what Report? The constant, universal, and uncontradicted Suffrage of all Learned and Wise Men: But it sounds better in his own Words. Antecessorum, ut tempore postremus, ita nulli postponendus, vir infelici ne dissimulem mihi, non nisi de longinquo & famae tantum beneficio cognitas, famae tamen haud vulgaris aut dubiae, sed optimorum complurium & prestantissimorum virorum consona autoritate subnixae quo paratiorem mea verba, non ab effectu privato dictata sed veritatis vi expressa, non Amicitiae juri debita sed virtutis reverentiae data, sibi fidem deposcant. Quid enim qui virtutum suarum segniter animos irritanti fama, non admodum credulae facilitatis homines admiratione perculit, corripuitque amore, qui sibi necdum visos penitasque ignotos studio devinxit sui, & desiderio inflammavit, qualem quantumque esse virum oportuit? Tui certe similem, Divine Laurenti, ut potein quo, cum omnigena Scientia rerum, incorrupta Probitas morum, cum intelligentia magis quam virili, plus quam virgi pudor, cum sagacissima prudentia, candidissima simplicitas, cum profunda soliditate judicii perspicax Acumen ingenii, cum vivida alacritate mentis, invicta laboris patientia, cum illibata denique severitate vitae suae, suavissima conversandi tenitas, raro quodom, & vix credibili temperamento conspirarint. Non unius, is scilicet aut alterius Scientiae tenui rore aspersus, sed omnium fuit denso imbre perfusus, nec extimam duntaxat cutem rerum perstrinxit notitiae, sed abstrusissima viscera pervasit, etc. That is,  
He was the last of my Predecessors in Time, but in nothing else behind the best of them: I must not dissemble my infelicity, in not knowing him but at a distance, and by report of others; but what report? Not a dubious and uncertain Rumour, spread abroad by a few, unlearned, and inconsiderable Persons, but by a constant and uncontradicted Fame, grounded upon the agreeing Suffrages of all the wisest and best Men; my Words therefore are more worthy of belief, as not proceeding from Affection to him, but from the force of Truth, not due to Friendship, but offered to the reverence of Virtue: For what manner of Man ought he to be? Who could affect Persons not credulous, or of an easy Impression, with an admiration of him, and inflame those with Love to him whom he had never seen, and who were perfectly unknown to him? It must only be, such a one as you, Divine Laurence, in whom an incorrupt probity of Manners, was joined with an universal knowledge of things, a more than Virgin Modesty, with a more than Virile Understanding, a most Candid Simplicity, with a most Sagacious Prudence, a Perspicatious sharpness of Wit, with a profound Solidity of Judgement, an invincible Patience of Labour, with a vivid Cheerfulness of Mind, and lastly, with a severe unblamable Life, a most sweet manner of Conversation; all these conspired in thee, by a rare, and almost incredible Temperament. He was not lightly sprinkled with the thin Dew of one or two Sciences, but throughly moistened with plenteous Showers of all; He did not content himself with a superficial skindeep Knowledge of things, but penetrated into their Bowels, and most abstruse Recesses, etc.  
Before the Bishop of Exeter resolved to give a Pendulum Clock to the Royal Society, to preserve Mr. Rookes Memory, he designed to have put up an Inscription over or near the place of his Interment; for that end, Dr. Bathurst, now Dean of Wells, composed an ingenious Epitaf, very worthy to be here inserted, this was communicated to me by my worthy Friend Abraham Hill Esquire, so often before mentioned, 'tis as follows. 
M. S.  
Hic subtus sive dormit, sive meditatur,  
Qui jamdudum animo metitus est,  
Quicquid, aut vita, aut mors habet.  
V. C. Laurentius Rook, è Cantio oriundus  
In Collegio Greshamensi  
Astronomiae primum, dein Geometriae Professor,  
Utriusque Ornamentum & Spes maxima;  
Quem altissima Indoles, Artesque omnifariae,  
Mores pellucidi, & ad amussim probi,  
Consuetudo facilis, & accommoda,  
Bonis, Doctisque omnibus, fecerunt commendatissimum.  
Vir totus teres, & sui plenus,  
Cui virtus, & pietas, & summa ratio,  
Desideria motusque omnes sub pedibus dabant,  
Ne se penitus saeculo subducere mortuus possit,  
Qui iniquissima Modestia vixerat,  
Sethus Ward Episcopus Exon.  
Longas, suavesque Amicitias,  
Hoc Saxo prosecutus est.  
Obiit junii 27. Anno Dom. MDCLXII▪  
AEtatis suae XL.   
In English thus. 
To the Pious Memory  
Of that Excellent Person, Laurence Rook,  
Who either sleeps, or meditates under this Stone,  
Who was born in Kent, and successively  
Enjoyed the Professors Place of  
Astronomy, and Geometry,  
In Gresham-College,  
Of both those Sciences being Ornament  
and greatest Hope.  
In his Life-time, he had measured  
and comprehended  
What ever is in Life or Death.  
He was highly esteemed by all good and  
Learned Men,  
For the admirable Temper of his Mind,  
Universal Erudition, sweet and transparent  
Manners,  
Exact and consummate Virtue, easy and  
profitable Conversation,  
Being full of Knowledge, but not puffed up.  
By his Piety, Virtue, and exalted Reason,  
He had subdued, and trod under his Feet,  
All Worldly Desires, and Fears.  
But lest he, whom a most unjust Modesty  
Obscured so much in his Life,  
Should be unknown to all after his Death,  
Seth Ward, Bishop of Exeter,  
In return for their long and most sweet  
Friendship,  
Has endeavourd to perpetuate his Memory  
by this Monument.  
He died june the 27. in the Year of our  
Lord, 1662. in the Fourtieth  
Year of his Age.   
Doctor Barrow did not only succeed Mr. Rook in his Place at Gresham-College, but also in his intimate Friendship with Bishop Ward; and as such, I shall treat of him in the ensuing Chapter.   

CHAP. XIX. Of Doctor Barrow.  
IT is not my design to write Dr. Barrows Life, and if it were, I am not furnished with sufficient Materials for that undertaking. It is already done, though with too much brevity, by a better hand, dedicated to the Reverend Dr. Tillotson, than Dean, and afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, by my worthy, learned, and ingenious Friend, Abraham Hill, Esq out of whose Account I shall take what I before was ignorant of, concerning his Birth and Education, before he arrived to be so Eminent at Cambridge, adding thereunto, several particular Accidents which happened during my intimate acquaintance with him, and sometimes going out of the way for a season, to make the Narration more delightful. I may possibly insert some particulars, which will seem trivial, though in my opinion, the less considerable Words, and Actions, and Circumstances of great Men, amongst whom, he has a just title to be enrolled, are worthy to be transmitted to Posterity.  
Mr. Hill fixes Dr. Barrows Birth in the Month of October, A. D. 1630. But I hope he will not be offended if I descent from him, both as to the Year and Month, and produce Reason for so doing; 'tis this: I have often heard Dr. Barrow say, that he was born upon the Twenty-ninth of February; and if he said true, it could not be either in October, or in 1630, that not being a Leapyear. I would not have asserted this, merely upon the credit of my Memory, had it been any other Day of any other Month, it being told me so long since, had I not this remarkable Circumstance to confirm it: He used to say, it is in one respect, the best Day in the Year to be born upon, for it afforded me this advantage over my Fellow Collegiates, who used to keep Feasts upon their Birthday; I was treated by them once every Year, and I entertained them once in four Years, when February had nine and twenty Days.  
Dr. Barrow was born in London, and well descended; his Great Grandfather was Fillip Barrow, who published a Method of Fysic, whose Brother Isaac was a Doctor of Fysic, and a Benefactor to Trinity College in Cambridge, as also a Tutor therein to Robert Cecil Earl of Salisbury, and Lord-Treasurer of England. His Grandfather was Isaac Barrow Esquire, of Spiney-Abbey in Cambridge-shire, a Person of a good Estate, and a Justice of Peace during the space of forty Years. His Father's Name was Thomas, a reputable Citizen of London, and Linen-draper to King Charles the First, to whose Interests he adherd, following him first to Oxford, and after his Execrable Murder, he went to his Son Charles the Second, then in Exile, there with great patience expecting the King's Restoration, which at last happened, when 'twas almost despaired of. I remember Mr. Abraham Cowley, who also was beyond Sea with the King, told me, at our first coming into France, we expected every Post would bring us News of our being recalled; but having been frustrated for so many Years, we could not believe it when the happy News arrived. This Thomas had a Brother whose Name was Isaac, afterwards Bishop of St. Asaf, whose Consecration Sermon, his Nevew and Namesake our Dr. Barrow, preachd at Westminster-Abbey. His Mother was Ann, Daughter of William Buggins Esq of North-Cray in Kent. This Genealogy, though short, has quite tired my patience, it so little concerns him, for it is certainly the least of his Praises, if it be any at all. To be Nobly or Royally extracted, is the gift of blind Fortune; A Principibus nasci fortuitum est. This may happen to an ill and ignorant Person, but to be eminently Learned and Pious, cannot be obtained, without indefatigable Industry, and a sincere love and constant practice of Virtue. He was first put to the Charterhouse School, where he made little or no progress, there appearing in him an inclination rather to be a Soldier than a Scholar, his chief delight being in Fight himself, and encouraging his Playfellows to it; and he was indeed of an undaunted Courage, as we shall make evident in its place. His Father finding no good was to be hoped for there, removed him to Felstead in Essex, where contrary to his expectation, and even beyond his hopes, his Son on a sudden, became so great a proficient in Learning, and all other praiseworthy Qualifications, that his Master appointed him Tutor to the Lord Viscount Fairfax, of Emely in Ireland, who was then his Scholar. During his stay at Felstead, he was admitted into Peterhouse, of which College his Uncle the Bishop had formerly been a Member. When he was fit for the University he went to Cambridge, and was admitted in Trinity in Febr. A. D. 1645. He was there kindly treated by Dr. Hill, whom the Parliament had put in to that Mastership, in the place of Dr. Comber, ejected for adhering to the King. This Dr. Hill, I say, one day laying his Hand upon young Isaac's Head, Thou art a good Lad, said he, 'tis pity thou art a Cavalier; and afterwards, when he had made an Oration upon the Gunpowder Treason, wherein he had so celebrated the former Times, as to reflect much on the present. Some of the Fellows moved for his Expulsion, but the Master silencd them with these word, Barrow is a better Man than any of us. This is very remarkable, and an evident Testimony of our young Scholars irresistible Merits, which could, as the Poets feign of Orfeus,— Lenire Tigres rapidesque Leones; that is, Tame Savage Tigers and fierce Lions, make a Presbyterian kind to a Cavalier, and Malignant, which Names the adherers to the King, Church, and Laws went under in those days. Anno Domini 1649. He was chosen Fellow of the College, carrying it merely by the dint of his Merits, having no Friend to commend him, as being of a contrary Persuasion to those who then carried all things in that University. This brings to my Memory, a Certificate or Testimonial, which my worthy Friend Dr. Gilbert Ironside, than Warden of Wadham-College in Oxford, and now Bishop of Hereford, gave to a Member of that College, who was Candidate for a Fellowship in another College, it was to this purpose. If this Person, whom I recommend to you, be not a better Scholar than any of those who are his Competitors, choose him not; and he did upon Examination and Trial so far surpass the rest, that they could not refuse him, without being, and appearing Partial, and unjust. I mention this as a Parallel to Dr. Barrows Case.  
When Doctor Duport resigned his Greek Lecture, he recommended his Pupil Mr. Barrow for his Successor, who justified his opinion of his fitness for that Employment, by an excellent performance of the Probation Exercise; but the governing Party thinking him inclined to Arminianism, put him by it. This disappointment, the melancholy aspect of Public Affairs, together with a desire to see some of those places mentioned in Greek and Latin Writers, made him resolve to Travel; which, that he might be better enabled to do, he converted his Books into ready Money. He began his Travels, Anno Dom. 1654., and went first to Paris, to crave his Father's Benediction, who was then in the English Court praying for, but scarce hoping, much less expecting the King's Restoration, to whom, his pious Son, out of his small Stock, made a seasonable Present. After some Months stay there, he went to Italy, and remained some time at that most beautiful City of Florence, where he had the favour, and neglected it not, to peruse many Books in the Grand Duke's Library, and ten thousand curious Medals, and to discourse concerning them with Mr. Fitton, who found his ability so great in that sort of Learning, that upon his recommendation, the Grand Duke invited Dr. Barrow to take upon him the Charge and Custody of that great Treasure of Antiquity. From Florence he went to Leghorne, Anno Dom. where he was much Caressd by the English Merchants residing there: Thence he sailed to Smyrna, where he met with the like kindness and entertainment from Consul Breton, and the rest of that Factory: As he did also afterwards at Constantinople, from Sir Thomas Bendish the English Ambassador at the Ottoman Court, Sir jonathan Dawes, and the rest of the English Merchants, from whom he received many Favours, and with whom he ever after continued an intimate Friendship. At Constantinople the See of St. Chrysostom, he read all the Works of that Father, whom he much preferred before the rest. He remained in Turkey more than a Year, and then returned to Venice, where he was no sooner Landed, but the Ship which brought him took Fire, and was, with all its Cargo, consumed to Ashes, the Men only saved. From Venice, in his way to England▪ he passed by through Germany and Holland, and has left a Description of some parts of those Countries in his Poems.  
Anno Dom. 1660, He was chosen without a Competitor, Professor of the Greek Tongue in Cambridge; two Years after, he was elected Professor of Geometry at Gresham-College, in the place of Mr. Laurence Rook, concerning whom, we have discoursed at large in the two preceding Chapters.  
Anno Dom. 1669, Mr. Lucas Founded, and richly endowd a Mathematical Lecture in Cambridge, which his Executors, Mr. Raworth and Mr. Buck, conferred upon Dr. Barrow, enjoining him to leave every Year Ten Lectures in Writing to the University, the better to secure the End of so Noble and Useful a Foundation. The Lectures which are printed, and others of his, ready for the Press, will give the best Account how he behaud himself in that Employment. Almost all I have hitherto said, is, I acknowledge, taken out of Mr. Hills Account of Dr. Barrows Life; but now I am got within mine own knowledge, and can proceed securely without his Clue, or the help of any other Guide. I promise, I will advance nothing, but what I have good Authority for, but what I have either known myself to be true, or heard from Dr. Barrows mouth.  
I am not unmindful of my promise, to make it appear in its due place, that Dr. Barrow was endued with an undaunted Courage; to prove which, I think these two instances following will be sufficient. In his passage from Leghorn to Constantinople, the Ship he sailed in was attackd by an Algerine Pirate; during the Fight, he betook himself to his Arms, stayed upon the Deck, cheerfully and vigorously fight, till the Pirate perceiving the stout defence the Ship made, steered off and left her. I asked him, why he did not go down into the Hold, and leave the defence of the Ship to those to whom it did belong: He replied, It concerned no Man more than myself; I would rather have lost my Life, than have fallen into the hands of these merciless Infidels. This Engagement, and his own slout and intrepid behaviour in it, to defend his Liberty, which he valued more than his Life, as he asserts in that Verse, Almaque libertas vitali charior Aura, he describes at large, in a Copy of Verses in the Fourth Volume of his Works, Printed by Brabazon Aylmer. To this I will add another Accident, which befell him in England, it being of the like nature: He was at a Gentleman's House in the Country, if I mistake not in Cambridge-shire, where the Necessary House was at the end of a long Garden, and consequently at a great distance from the Room where he lodged, as he was going to it very early, even before Day, for, as I shall show hereafter, he was sparing of sleep, and an early riser, a fierce Mastiff, who used to be chained up all Day, and let loose late at Night for the security of the House, perceiving a strange Person in the Garden at that unseasonable time, set upon him with great fury. The Dr catched him by the Throat, threw him, and lay upon him, and whilst he kept him down, considered what he should do in that Exigent; once he had a mind to kill him, but he quite altered this resolution, judging it would be an unjust Action, for the Dog did his duty, and he himself was in fault for rambling out of his Lodgings before 'twas light. At length he called out so loud, that he was heard by some of the House, who came presently out, and freed both the Doctor and the Dog, from the eminent danger they were both in.  
Anno Dom. 1672, Upon the death of Bishop Wilkins, Dr. Pearson, Master of Trinity College in Cambridge, was promoted to the Bishopric of Chester, and the vacant Mastership was, by the King, conferred upon Dr. Barrow. I will leave him possessed of that Post, and look a little backward, and declare some Accidents of his Life, which happened before he had arrived to that eminent Dignity; but because this Chapter is long enouf already, for the Readers sake and mine own, I will here make a Halt, reserving what remains, to the following Chapters.   

CHAP. XX. The same Matter continued.  
AS soon as Dr. Ward was made Bishop of Exeter, he procured for his old Friend Dr. Wilkins, the Rectory of St. Laurence-Iewry, who was then destitute of any Place, the reason whereof I have given before: He being Minister there, and forced by some Indisposition to keep his Chamber, desired Dr. Barrow to give him a Sermon the next Sunday, which he readily consented to do. Accordingly, at the time appointed, he came, with an Aspect pale and meager, and unpromising, slovenly and carelessly dressed, his Collar unbuttond, his Hair uncombd, etc. Thus accoutred, he mounts the Pulpit, begins his Prayer, which, whether he did Read or not, I cannot positively assert, or deny: Immediately all the Congregation was in an uproar, as if the Church were falling, and they scampering to save their Lives, each shifting for himself with great precipitation; there was such a noise of Pattens of Serving-Maids, and ordinary Women, and of unlocking of pews, and cracking of Seats, caused by the younger sort hastily climbing over them, that I confess, I thought all the Congregation were mad: But the good Doctor seeming not to take notice of this disturbance, proceeds, names his Text, and preachd his Sermon, to two or three gathered, or rather left together, of which number, as it fortunately happened, Mr. Baxter, that Eminent Nonconformist was one, who afterwards gave Dr. Wilkins a Visit, and commended the Sermon to that degree, that he said, he never heard a better Discourse: There was also amongst those who stayed out the Sermon, a certain young Man, who thus accosted Dr. Barrow as he came down from the Pulpit; Sir, be not dismayed, for I assure you, 'twas a good Sermon. By his Age and dress, he seemed to be an Apprentice, or at the best, a Foreman of a Shop, but we never heard more of him. I asked the Doctor, what he thought, when he saw the Congregation running away from him? I thought, said he, they did not like me, or my Sermon, and I have no reason to be angry with them for that. But what was your opinion, said I, of the Apprentice? I take him, replied he to be a very Civil Person, and if I could m●●● with him I'd present him with a bottle of Wine. There were then in that Parish a company of formal, grave, and wealthy Citizens, who having been many Years under famous Ministers, as Dr. Wilkins, Bishop Ward, Bishop Reynolds, Mr. Vines, etc. had a great opinion of their skill in Divinity, and their ability to judge of the goodness and badness of Sermons: Many of these came in a body to Dr. Wilkins, to expostulate with him, why he suffered such an Ignorant, Scandalous Fellow, meaning Dr. Barrow, to have the use of his Pulpit. I cannot precisely tell, whether it was the same day, or sometime after in that Week, but I am certain it happened to be when Mr. Baxter was with Dr. Wilkins. They came, as I said before, in full Cry, saying, they wondered he should permit such a Man to Preach before them, who looked like a starved Cavalier who had been long Sequestered, and out of his Living for Delinquency, and came up to London to beg, now the King was restored; and much more to this purpose. He let them run their selves out of breath, when they had done speaking, and expected an humble submissive Answer, he replied to them in this manner: The Person you thus despise, I assure you, is a Pious Man, an Eminent Scholar, and an Excellent Preacher: For the truth of the last, I appeal to Mr. Baxter here present, who heard the Sermon, you so vilify: I am sure you believe Mr. Baxter is a competent judge, and will pronounce according to Truth; then turning to him, Pray Sir, said he, do me the favour to declare your Opinion concerning the Sermon now in Controversy, which you heard at our Church the last Sunday. Then did Mr. Baxter very candidly give the Sermon the praise it deserved, nay more, he said, That Dr. Barrow Preachd so well, that he could willingly have been his Auditor all day long When they heard Mr. Baxter give him this high Encomium, they were pricked in their hearts, and all of them became ashamed, confounded, and speechless; for, though they had a good opinion of their selves, yet they durst not pretend to be equal to Mr. Baxter; but at length, after some pause, they all, one after another, confessed, they did not hear one word of the Sermon, but were carried to mislike it, by his unpromising Garb, and Mien, the Reading of his Prayer, and the going away of the Congregation; for they would not by any means have it thought, if they had heard the Sermon, they should not have concurrd with the Judgement of Mr. Baxter. After their shame was a little over, they earnestly desired Dr. Wilkins to procure Dr. Barrow to Preach again, engaging their selves to make him amends, by bringing to his Sermon their Wives and Children, Man-servants, and Maidservants, in a word, their whole Families, and to enjoin them not to leave the Church till the Blessing was pronounced. Dr. Wilkins promised them to use his utmost endeavour for their satisfaction, and accordingly solicited Dr. Barrow to appear once more upon that Stage, but all in vain, for he would not by any persuasions be prevailed upon to comply with the Request of such conceited, hypocritical Coxcombs. Some time after, the Bishop of Salisbury, I mean Dr. Ward, invited Dr. Barrow to live with him, not as a Chaplain, but rather as a Friend and Companion, yet he did frequently do the duty if the domestic Chaplain was absent. Whilst he was there, the Arch-deaconry of North-Wiltshire became void, by the death of Dr. Childerey, if I mistake not; this the Bishop proffered Dr Barrow; but he modestly and absolutely refused it, and told me the reason, which it is not necessary I should declare. Not long after a Prebendary died, whose Corpse, I mean Revenue, lay in Dorsetshire, this also the Bishop offered him, and he gratefully accepted it, and was Installed accordingly. I remember about that time, I heard him once say, I wish I had five hundred pounds. I replied, That's a great Sum for a Filosofer to desire, what would you do with so much? I would, said he, give it my Sister for a Portion, that would procure her a good Husband: Which Sum, in few Months after he received, for putting a Life into the Corpse of his new Prebend; after which he resigned it to Mr. Corker, a Fellow of Trinity College in Cambridge. All the while he continued with the Bishop of Salisbury I was his Bedfellow, and a witness of his indefatigable Study; at that time he applied himself wholly to Divinity, having given a divorce to Mathematics, and Poetry, and the rest of the Bell's letters, wherein he was profoundly versed, making it his chief, if not only business, to write in defence of the Church of England, and compose Sermons, whereof he had great store, and, I need not say, very good.  
We were once going from Salisbury to London, he in the Coach with the Bishop, and I on Horseback; as he was entering the Coach, I perceived his Pockets strutting out near half a Foot, and said to him, What have you got in your Pockets? He replied, Sermons. Sermons, said I, give them me, my Boy shall carry them in his Portmanteau, and ease you of that luggage. But, said he, suppose your Boy should be robbd: That's pleasant, said I, do you think there are Parsons Padding upon the Road for Sermons? Why, what have you, said he, it may be five or six Guineas, I hold my Sermons at a greater rate, they cost me much pain and time. Well then, said I, if you'll insure my five or six Guineas against Lay-Padders, I'll secure your bundle of Sermons against Ecclesiastical Highwaymen. This was agreed, he emptied his Pockets, and filled my Portmanteau with Divinity, and we had the good fortune to come safe to our Journeys end, without meeting either sort of the Padders forementioned, and to bring both our Treasures to London. He was of a healthy Constitution, used no Exercise, or Fysic, besides smoking Tobacco, in which he was not sparing, saying, it was an instar omi●um, or panfarm●con: He was unmercifully cruel to a lean Carcase, not allowing it sufficient Meat or Sleep: during the Winter Months, and some part of the rest, he rose always before it was light, being never without a Tinderbox and other proper Utensils for that purpose; I have frequently known him, after his first sleep, rise, light, and after burning out his Candle, return to Bed before Day. I say, I have known him do this; I report it not upon hear-say, but experience, having been, as I said before, is Bedfellow whilst he lived with the Bishop of Salisbury. There cannot be a more evident proof of his indefatigability in Study, immense Comprehension, and accurate Attention to what he sought after, than what Mr. Hill attests he saw written with his own Hand, at the end of his Apollonius. April. 14./ Ma●. 10. Intra haec temporis intervalla peractum hoc opus: That is, In twenty seven or twenty eight days, this Work was finished: For there may be five, and must be at least four Sundays, whereon I suppose he was otherways employed, betwixt those days. He was careless of his clothes, even to a fault; I remember he once made me a Visit, and I perceiving his Band sat very auwkardly, and asked him, What makes your Band sit so? I have, said he, no Buttons upon my Collar. Come, said I, put on my Nightgown, here's a Tailor at hand, for by chance my Tailor was then with me who will presently set all things right. With much ado I prevailed with him; the Buttons were supplied, the Gown made clean, the Hands and Face washed, and the clothes and Hat brushd; in a word, at his departure he did not seem the same Man who came in just before. He had one Fault more, if it deserves that name, he was generally too long in his Sermons; and now I have spoken as ill of him as the worst of his Enemies could, if ever he had any: He did not consider, that Men cannot be attentive to any Discourse of above an hours duration, and hardly so long, and that therefore even in Plays, which are Discourses made for Diversion, and more agreeable to Mankind, there are frequnt Pauses and Music betwixt the Acts, that the Spectators may rise from their Seats and refresh their weary Bodies and Minds. But he thought he had not said enouf, if he omitted any thing that belonged to the subject of his Discourse, so that his Sermons seemed rather complete Treatises, than Orations, designed to be spoke in an hour; hereof I will give you two or three Instances. He was once requested by the Bishop of Rochester then, and now Dean of Westminster, to Preach at the Abbey, and withal desired not to be long, for that Auditory lovd short Sermons, and were used to them. He replied, My Lord, I will show you my Sermon; and pulling it out of his Pocket, puts it into the Bishop's hands. The Text was in the Tenth Chapter of the Proverbs, the latter end of the eighteenth Verse, the words these; He that uttereth Slander is a Liar. The Sermon was accordingly divided into Two Parts, one treated of Slander, the other of Lies. The Dean desired him to content himself with preaching only the First Part, to which he consented, not without some reluctancy, and in speaking that only, it took up an hour and an half. This Discourse is since published in two Sermons, as it was preachd. Another time, upon the same Persons Invitation, he preachd at the Abbey on a Holiday: Here I must inform the Reader, that it is a Custom for the Servants of the Church upon all Holidays, Sundays excepted, betwixt the Sermon and Evening Prayers, to show the Tombs, and Effigies of the Kings and Queens in Wax, to the meaner sort of People, who then flock thither from all the corners of the Town, and pay their Twopences to see The Play of the Dead Volks, as I have heard a Devonshire Clown not improperly call it. These perceiving Dr. Barrow in the Pulpit after the hour was past, and fearing to lose that time in hearing, which they thought they could more profitably employ in receiving. These, I say, became impatient, and caused the Organ to be struck up against him, and would not give over playing till they had blowed him down. But the Sermon of the greatest length was that concerning Charity, before the Lord Mayor and Aldermen at the spital; in speaking which, he spent three hours and an half. Being asked, after he came down from the Pulpit, whether he was not tired; Yes indeed, said he, I began to be weary with standing so long.  
Hence I infer, if Dr. Barrow thought, as other Men do, which without doubt he did, these Sermons must be of a prodigious length when they came fire-new from the Forge. For every Man who collects Materials for a Building, lays in more than he shall have occasion for. Every Statuary provides more Marble than is necessary to make his Image, much whereof must be cut off with the Chissel, before any proportion or design of the Workman can appear. Every Carpenter makes some Chips, and he is the best Workman who makes fewest, in bringing the Timber to the Figure he designs. It is very easy to make a long Discourse, or a prolix Letter, but to contract it, to remove the Rubbish, to amputate the needless Branches, which keep out the Light, and bear no Fruit; in a word, to leave nothing but what is necessary, or at least convenient, is very difficult.  
The first Schetses of a Comedy called the Paradox, which has never seen the Light, was five times as long as the whole when it was finished; and yet were I to review it, I make no doubt, of making more Weeds, and make it yet shorter. In my opinion, the wittiest Paragraf in Monsieur Voitures Letters, which are all written with a great deal of Spirit, and Humour, is the Apology he makes for a long Letter, 'tis to this sense: Pray Sir excuse the length of this, for I had not sufficient time to write a shorter: Than which, nothing can be better and more agreeable. The same Rule is good in Books, as well as Letters; a little time is enouf to write a great Book, as they go now, and a great deal, not too much, to write a little one as it should be: Tho I am sensible this Chapter is too long, yet the next will be longer.   

CHAP. XXI. A Digression containing some Criticisms.  
THIS Chapter is guilty of great Crimes, which it would be no small folly in me to conceal: First, it is too long, and secondly, which is worse, 'tis a Digression upon a Digression. I esteem myself obliged to declare this to the Reader, at the Threshold, before he enters into the Chapter, to the intent, that if he pleases, he may pass it over, as a long Parenthesis, and proceed to the next. But, if notwithstanding this Caution, he will be so hardy, or curious to read it, and afterwards shall not like it, let him blame himself, not me, for I honestly set up a Beacon to prevent his splitting upon this Rock. I presume, it will be objected, Since you knew its faults, why did you publish it? I answer, Not so much to trouble others, as to ease myself, and rid my hands of it. For I am not now in circumstances to get it Companions, or Playfellows, as I once intended, being become impotent by the loss of my Tools, my Books they being all burnt by that sudden Fire, which broke out with irresistible violence, after Midnight, in Lombardstreet, Nou. 18. A. D. 1693. Neither can I endure to keep it at home alone, and hear it eternally bawling for Liberty, like a Cat penned up in a close Room; and besides, I am not without hopes, there may be found some few, to whom this will not appear so very much disagreeable. Mr. Hill, to whose account of Dr. Barrows Life I have so frequent recourse, says, he was addicted to Poetry, and well skilled therein, but that he never wrote any Satyrs; to which I add, that the greatest part of his Poems were written in Hexameter and Pentameter Verses, after the manner of Ovid, whom he had in great esteem, preferring him even before the Divine Virgil: I have heard him say, that he believed Virgil could not have made the Metamorfosis so well as Ovid has. Concerning which, there have been often betwixt us several sharp, but not bitter Disputes; for herein I confess, I differed from him, though we were, as to all other things, generally speaking of the same mind, as Horace says of his Friend Fuscus Aristius, and himself. 
— Hac in re, scilicet una,  
Mutum dissimiles, ad caetera, pene Gemelli,  
Fraternis animis, quicquid negat, alter, & alter,  
Annuimus pariter, veteres notique Columbi.   
That is, 
In all things else, we two, the same course steerd,  
Like Doves, whom long acquaintance had endear  
Only, in this, we disagreed.   
It is next to an impossibility, to write either good Sense, or Latin, in that sort of Metre, wherein so many hobbling Dactyls knock one against another. How often has Martial Pontice, Pontiliane, crede mihi, and innumerable such botches, forced to the use of them by writing thus in Shackles. Well fare Horace, who amongst all his variety of Verse, never split upon this Rock. It cannot be denied, but that Ovid had Wit, and a fluent negligent Style, an easy way of making Verses, which, as he says, dropped from his Pen, when he thought not of them. Quicquid conabar dicere, Carmen erat. That is, Whatever I endeavour to speak, falls into a Verse without my designing it. He could make a hundred Verses, Stans pede in uno, while he stood upon one Foot, but either he wanted Judgement or Patience to File and Correct them. It is recorded of him, that his Judgement was good, that he knew his Faults, but he was enamoured of them, and would not part with them: I have read this Passage, but I cannot tell where, wanting Books to have recourse to. The Story, as well as I remember it, is this: Ovid showed a Copy of his Verses to some of his learned Friends, desiring their impartial Censure of them. Upon perusal they approud them all, except one, which they desired him to alter. He replied, he would be ruled by them, and mend any Verse they should except against, but one, which he had such a kindness for, that he could by no means part with it; which was this. 
Semivirumque Bovem, Semibovemque Virum.  This was the Verse which his Friends had unanimously pitched upon, to be erased or reformed. Add to this, Ovid generally stumbles at the Threshold, which is a sign of ill Luck, and shuffles like a Jade, before he can get into his right goings, beginning most of his Books ill. His Metamorfosis begins thus: In nova fert Animas mutatas dicere formas, Corpora. That is, I intent to discourse of new Bodies, in changed forms, instead of Bodies changed into new forms. This is not at all mended, by the Grammarians making it a Figure; if it is a Figure, 'tis such a one that a Schoolboy would deserve whipping for imitating. His Book De Tristibus begins thus: 
Parve, nec invideo, sine me liber ibis in Urbem,  
Hei mihi quod Domino non licet ire tuo.  Here I demand, if he had envied his little Books Voyage to Rome, and sed had been the second word in the first Verse, in the place of nec, would not the short Verse been as much, or more to the purpose then, than it is now. Which of these two Sentences is most agreeable to Reason? Little Book, thou art going to Rome without me, I envy thee not, yet I account myself the most miserable Man in the World, because my Circumstances will not permit me to accompany thee. Or this: Little Book, thou wilt shortly see Rome, and the Court of Augustus, from which I am for ever banished; I envy this happiness, and cannot sufficiently lament my Condition, which makes it impossible for me to bear thee Company. Ovid's Art of Love begins thus: 
Si quis, in hoc, Artem, populo non novit Amandi  
Me legate, & lecto Carmine, doctus erit.  What heinous Crime has Artem committed, that deserved clapping into Little-Ease, betwixt hoc and populo the Bark and the Tree. Could he have considered but half a minute, he might have placed it more conveniently thus: Si quis in hoc populo est, qui Artem non novit Amandi. Or in lieu of Artem, he could have contented himself with an equivalent, as Leges, or Methodum, he might have shunnd that inconvenience, and the Verse would have run thus: 
Si quis in hoc populo Leges, Methodum non novit Amandi.  I am also much offended at that frivolous definition, or description of the fluctus decumanus, or the tenth Wave, in these words: Posterior nono est, undecimoque prior. That is, That Wave which is after the ninth, and before the eleventh. Nothing can be more ridiculous, for this Character, mutatis mutandis, will fit indifferently all the Waves in the Ocean, except the first; for the second is, after the first, and before the third; the third is, after the second, and before the fourth and so on for ever. This Problem of Ovid, What number is betwixt Nine and Eleven, is much easier, than that wherewith young Arithmeticians used to be confounded. If a Herring and a half cost three Halfpennies, how many are there for a Penny? I shall mention but two Distiches more, and then, having made a short visit to the Metamorfosis, conclude this Digression. The Verses are these: 
Temporibus medicina juvat, data, tempore prosunt,  
Et data non apto tempore, vina nocent.  
Utendum est aetate, cito pede praeterit aetas,  
Nec bona tam sequitur, quam bona prima fuit.  Who can endure temporibus signifying aliquando, and the nauseous repetition of the same word thrice in two Verses. The second long Verse is subject to the same Objection, but the short one is intolerable; yet methinks I am so well acquainted with Ovid's Humour, that he would not have been prevailed with to alter it, if he had made it thus: 
Nec sequitur bona tam, prima fuit bona quam.  Horace will not allow those Verses to be good, whose words being rendered in Prose, do not sound well: Whoever therefore takes the pains to bring these to that touch, and compare them with these, or almost any other of Horace, will find them to differ as much as Chalk and Cheese.  
— Aventem qui rodit Amicum,  
Qui non defendit, alio culpante, solutos,  
Qui captat risus hominum, famamque dicacis,  
Fingere qui non visa potest, commissa tacere,  
Qui nequit, hic niger est.  
Ovid's Metamorfosis has fewer Faults than the rest of his Works, but is not wholly exempt; I shall at present take notice but of three or four. In his description of the Chaos, that Hemystich, Sine pondere, habentia pondus, is improper, and absurd, and to be understood, must be thus filled up: Corpora habentia pondus, pugnabant cum iis quae erant sine pondere: Or thus; Corpora quae erant sine pondere pugnabant cum iis quae erant habentia pondus. 'tis evident that every Body, considered absolutely and by itself, is heavy, that is, in Ovid's Phrase, pondus habet; and being compared with another Body that is more heavy, it is comparatively light, but not sine pondere, that it weighs nothing. This Sentence then thus sifted, amounts to this: Every body fought with no Body: Impar congressus, a very unequal Battle.  
The next place I shall take notice of, is in the description of the Conflagration of the Earth, caused by Faetons' ill management of the Horses of the Sun. 'tis palpable that therein the Sun's Diurnal and Annual Motion are confounded: For Faeton desired to drive the Chariot but for one day, as it appears by this Testimony of Ovid himself. 
Currus petit ille paternos,  
Inque diem Alipedum jus & moderamen equorum.  And yet he is told by Febus, who ought to know his Trade better, that he must pass by all the Signs, and so make the Sun finish his annual Course, and produce the four Seasons of the Year in twenty four hours, which requires three hundred sixty five days, and some hours, minutes, and seconds more; and consequently, taking one day with another, the Sun does not move one degree in twenty four hours. But some may reply, This is a Fault against Astronomy, not Poetry. I answer, That does not mend the matter, for a Poet ought to be a thorow-pacd Scholar, or at least have so much discretion, as not to meddle with Sciences he understands not. He should have been mindful of that Rule, or Axiom of Horace: Scribende recte, sapere est, & Principium, & Fons. That is, No Fool, or ignorant Persons, can Write well. Now I reason thus; Either Ovid knew this Fault, or not; if he did not, than he is to be blamed for his Ignorance: If he did, and presumed that his fine descriptions of the terrible Beasts in the Zodiac would cast a mist before the Readers Eyes, and hinder them from taking notice of it, then is he guilty of Vanity and Presumption. I shall not insist upon his description of the Galaxy, or Milky Way, which is in these words: 
Est via sublimis, Caelo manifesto sereno,  
Lactea nomen habet, splendore notabilis ipso.  'tis evident that Lactea ought to be in the same Case with Nomen; but I believe the Chain of his Thoughts, if he did think, was this, he would have said Dicitur, or Vocatur, but it would not serve in the Verse: Then it came into his mind, that nomen habet, and Vocatur were tantamount, and so down it goes, without minding the Solocism; whereas had he made the Verse thus, he might have shunnd it. 
Nomen habens à lacte, & lactis nota colore.  I am apt to believe, that juvenal used the same way of Hunting, when he caught the word Septem and made use of it, when almost any other Number would have served as well. 
Tunc Duas una Saevissima Vipera Caena,  
Tunc Duas? Septem si Septem forte fuissent▪  That is, Cruel Viper, what, eat two at a meal! yes more: How many? Then he counts upon his Fingers, three, four, five, six, seven, that will do, go Boy write it in my Book, than down goes Septem, which if he had chanced to have skipped, he must have run on to a hundred, before he could find one fit for his purpose, and a hundred Centum would have done as well as seven Septem. So the same Poet in another place: 
— Digitis à morte remotis,  
Quatuor aut Septem, si sit latissima Taeda.  That is, verbatim; If it be a very broad Torch, removed from death four or seven Inches. Not to mention the harshness of the Metafor, a Torch for a Plank, or the impropriety, of using breadth for thickness. Men in a Ship, cannot be properly said to be distant from death, or drowning, by the breadth, but by the thickness of the Planks; and who ever heard of Board's seven Inches thick? But if they exceed four, the necessity to make them fit to do service in Verse, requires they must either be seven, or a hundred. Notwithstanding what is here said, I would not by any means, have it thought that I despise either of these Poets, nor that I could make better Verses, than even these upon which I Criticise, this I have done only to divert myself and the Reader, not to diminish their Reputation. It cannot be denied they were both great Men, especially Ovid, his Metamorfosis is a Noble Piece, the Language Lofty and Elegant, it contains many excellent Descriptions, and pathetical Orations, and the Connexion of the Fables is admirable; yet I would not have him equalizd, much less preferred to the Divine Virgil. Ovid, I confess, says, that he intended to have mended his Metamorfosis, but he deferred it till it was too late: It should have been done whilst he was in Rome, and Prosperity; had he done it then, he might have been a formidable Competitor with Virgil for the Crown of Bays; but when he went into Exile, he left his Wit behind, as appears by his Book De Tristibus. This was the difference betwixt these two Poets; Ovid could never begin, and Virgil make an end of Correcting; as appears by his ordering his Eneads to be burnt: So that 'tis evident they did not please him, though then brought to the perfection wherein we now have them, and they had been consumed to Ashes, to the irreparable loss of the Learned World, had not Augustus opportunely interposed his Sovereign Authority, and dispensed with the Testamental Laws, as appears by those Verses: 
Quin percat potius legum vencranda potestas, etc.  Ovid says he burnt his Metamorfosis when he left Rome, but finding he could not wholly stifle it, there being many Copies thereof in several hands, he was willing it should live, and have six Verses, which he mentions, prefixd before it, they are in the First Book De Tristibus; but hear him speak in his own words: 
Hos quoque sex Versus, in prima Fronte Libelli,  
Si proponendos esse putabis, habe.   
That is, 
All you who have my Book, if you think fit,  
I'th' Front cause these six Verses to be writ.   
The Verses are these. 
Orba Parente suo, Quicunque volumina Cernis,  
His saltem vestra detur in Urbe locus.  
Quoque magis faveas, non sunt haec edita ab ipso,  
Sed quasi de domino funcre rapta sui.  
Quicquid in his igitur vitii, rude carmen habebit,  
Emendaturus▪ si licuisset, eram▪   
Which may be thus made English 
If these poor Orfan Books at Rome appear,  
Make them a hearty Welcome, and good Cheer.  
They much impatience to get loose, expressed,  
And would not stay till they were better dressed;  
Till I, at least, their greater faults had m●nded,  
Which, had I lived, I faithfully intended.   
Or these, out of the Third Book, which will serve as well. 
Sunt quoque mutatae, ter quinque volumina formae,  
Carmina de Domini funere rapta sui.  
Illud opus poluit, si non prius ipse perissem,  
Certius à summa nomen habere manu.  
Nunc incorrectum Populi pervenit in ora,  
In Populi quicquam si tamen ore mei est.   
In English thus. 
Stories of Men and Gods, into strange shapes  
Transformed, the better to conceal their Rapes;  
Which I, at Rome, in fifteen Books compild,  
Whilst Fortune, and Augustus on me smiled:  
Now uncorrect through many hands they move▪  
If many yet, poor banished Ovid Love.  Both which Copies are indifferent; so much does Adversity depress the Spirits of those, who stand not upon the sure basis of Virtue.  
To conclude this long, but I hope not tedious Chapter: All Ages, and Countries, even ours, might produce excellent Poets. 
— Si non offenderit unum,  
Quemque Poetarum, limae labour, & mora.   
That is, If every one of them were not terrified, and discouragd, by the prospect of the great labour which they must undergo, and the length of time, which must be employed in filing and polishing.   

CHAP. XXII. Of Doctor Barrow.  
ANno Domini 1672, Doctor Wilkins Bishop of Chester, departed this Life, and that eminently Learned Divine Doctor Pearson succeeded him, by which Promotion the Mastership of Trinity-College in Cambridge became vacant; this King Charles conferred upon Dr: Barrow; and speaking of it afterwards, he said, he had given it to the best Scholar in England. Dr. Barrow was then the King's Chaplain in Ordinary, and much in favour with the Duke of Buckingham, then Chancellor of the University of Cambridge, as also of Gilbert Lord Archbishop of Canterbury; both which were ready, if there had been any need, to have given him their assistance to obtain this Place. When the Patent for the Mastership was brought him, wherein there was a clause permitting him to Marry, as it had been made before for some of his Predecessors, he caused the Grant to be altered, judging it not agreeable to the Statutes, from which he neither desired, nor would accept any Dispensation: Nay, he chose rather to be at the expense of double Fees, and procure a new Patent, without the Marrying Clause, than perpetually to stand upon his Guard against the Sieges, Batteries, and Importunities, which he foresaw that honourable and profitable Preferment would expose him to. Imitatus Castora, qui se Eunuchum ipse facit, etc. in this wisely imitating the Beaver, who knows for what he is hunted. Thus making Matrimony a forfeiture of his Preferment it was as effectual a way to secure him from all dangers of that kind, as Castration itself could have been; for Women in this Age, like Hens, desire only to Lay where they see Nest-Eggs.  
To show his Humility and care of the College Revenue, he remitted to them the charge of keeping a Coach for his time, which they had done a long while before for other Masters. This Preferment so well bestowed, gladded the hearts, not only of the Members of that College, but of the University, and all lovers of Learning. Upon this, he left the Bishop of Salisbury, and was then so kind to me, that he earnestly invited me to spend one Winter with him at Cambridge; few Arguments were sufficient to make me yield my consent. The last time he was in London, whither he came as it is customary, to the Election of Westminster, he went to Knightsbridge to give the Bishop of Salisbury a visit, and then made me engage my word, to come to him at Trinity-College immediately after the Michaelmas ensuing: I cannot express the rapture of the joy I was in, having, as I thought, so near a prospect of his charming and instructive Conversation; I fancied it would be a Heaven upon Earth, for he was immensly rich in Learning, and very liberal and communicative of it, delighting in nothing more, than to impart to others, if they desired it, whatever he had attained by much time and study: but of a sudden all my hopes vanished, and were melted like Snow before the Sun. Some few days after he came again to Knightsbridge, and sat down to Dinner, but I observed he did not eat: Whereupon I asked him, how it was with him: He answered, that he had a slight Indisposition hanging upon him, with which he had struggled two or three days, and that he hoped by Fasting and Opium to get it off, as he had removed another, and more dangerous Sickness, at Constantinople some Years before. But these Remedies availd him not, his Malady proud in the event, an inward, malignant, and insuperable Fever, of which he died, May 4. Anno Dom. 1677, in the 47 th' Year of his Age, in mean Lodgings, at a Saddlers near Charing-Cross, an old, low, ill-built House, which he had used for several Years: For though his Condition was much bettered by his obtaining the Mastership of Trinity-College, yet that had no bad influence upon his Morals, he still continued the same humble Person, and could not be prevailed upon to take more reputable Lodgings: I may truly say, Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit, Nulli flebilior quam mihi. It was a great loss to all good Men, but greatest to me. He left his Manuscripts, I mean his written Works, to Dr. Tillotson, and Mr. Abraham Hill, committing it to their discretion to publish which of them they should think fit. My Lord-Keeper sent a Message of Condolence to his Father, who had then some Place under him, importing, that he had but too great reason to grieve, for never Father lost so good a Son, and also that he should mitigate his sorrow upon that consideration. For want of sufficient instruction, I shall pass over in silence his Government of the University, when Vicechancellor, of the College, whilst he was Master, his public Exercises, his writing numerous and various Letters to procure Money for the building of the magnificent Library, etc. contenting myself to have set down some of the particulars which happened during my acquaintance with him, and now I shall here put a period to this Discourse, which for his, and mine own sake, I wish had been better performed. He was Buried in Westminster-Abby, where his Friends erected a Monument for him; the Bust, or half his Body in white Marble, placed upon a Pedestal of the same matter, whereon this Epitaf, composed by Doctor Mapletoft, is engraud. 
ISAACUS BARROW.  
S. T. P. Carolo Secundo à Sacris.  
Fir prope divinus, & vere magnus, si quid magni habent Pietas, Probitas, Fides, summa Eruditio, par modestia, Mores Sanctissimi undequaque & suavissimi, Goemetriae Professor Londini Greshamensis, Graecae linguae, & Matheseous apud Cantabrigienses suos. Cathedras omnes, Ecclesiam, Gentem Ornavit. Collegium S. S. Trinitatis Praeses illustravit, jactis Bibliothecae, vere Regiae, Fundamentis, auxit Opens, honores, & universum vitae ambitum. Ad majora natus, non contempsit, sed reliquit saeculo. Deum, quem à teneris coluit, cum primis imitatus est, Paucissimis egendo, benefaciendo quam plurimis, Etiam posteris, quibus, vel mortuus concionari non desinit Caetera, & pene majora, ex scriptis peti possunt.  
Abi Lector, & aemulare.  
Obiit iv. Die Maii, Anno Dom. MDCLXXVII.  
AEtatis suae XLVII.  
Monumentum hoc Amici posuere.   
In English thus. 
This Monument was erected by his Friends, To perpetuate the Memory of  
ISAAC BARROW,  
Dr. of Divinity, and Chaplain in Ordinary To King Charles the Second.  
He was a Godlike, and truly great Man, if Probity, Piety, Learning in the highest degree, and equal Modesty, most holy and sweet Manners, can confer that Title. He was Professor of Geometry in Gresham-College, in London, and afterwards of the Greek Tongue, and Mathematics, amongst his Cantabrigians. An honour to all his Professions, the Church and Nation. He Illustrated Trinity-College, as Master, and augmented it, by laying the Foundation of a truly Loyal Library. Riches, Honour, and all things desirable by most other Men, he did not contemn, but neglect. He imitated God, whom he had served from his Youth, in wanting few things, and doing good to all, even to Posterity, to whom, though dead, he yet Preaches. The rest, and if it is possible, greater things than these, may be found in his Writings, Go Reader, and imitate him. He died the 4 th'. of May, in the 47 th'. Year of his Age, and of our Lord 1677.    

CHAP. XXIII. Of the Bishop's Enemies.  
THOUGH they who have many Friends, have usually also many Enemies; yet this was not the Bishop's lot, for never any Person in his station was more universally beloved. Amongst his Enemies, I shall not reckon the Dissenters, for their Enmity was rather against his Function than his Person; and long before his Death, as all Prosecution against them seized, so did their Animosities also. The Dean of Salisbury stirred up a Faction against him, taking the advantage of a great, and almost total decay of his Reason; with him some of the prebend's took part, of whom the Bishop deserved a better Treatment; these flock of Hares had the boldness to insult, and pull by the Beard the dying, or rather dead Lion. But this Storm was soon laid, and the Bishop vindicated in his Rights, by an Archepiscopal Visitation, as we shall show hereafter.  
After the Bishop's death, one Anthony A. Wood of Merton-College in Oxford, took the liberty in his Athenae Oxonienses, to use him very irreverently, as he had done many other worthy Persons, whom it is needless for me to particularise. 'tis an easy thing for a melancholy Monkish Scholar, to sit in his Study, to invent and write Calumnies against whom he pleases; but the best of it is, the Dirt which he has thrown against the Bishop, is easily washed off, and that without leaving any stain. But supposing all that he says there against him to be true, it amounts but to very little, so little, that I should not have thought it worthy of my taking notice, had I not been desired by some of the Bishops surviving Friends. The sum of what he objects against him is, in short, this; That he was a Complyer during the King's Exile; That he put in, and put out; That after the King's return, he boasted of his Loyalty. As to the first; 'tis true, from his coming to Oxford he lived peaceably, as Mr. Wood himself did, and the rest of the Scholars of the University, but he was far removed from any base compliance; he never was admitted a Member of the Presbyterians, Independents, or any separated Congregation; he never frequented their Meetings, never pretended to be, or desired to be reputed against Monarchy in the Right Line, or Episcopacy, as it was notorious to all, and as we have made appear in the former parts of this Book.  
The second Accusation is, that he put in and put out: What he means by putting in, I confess I know not, neither have I ever heard of any Person in that time, he put in to any Place: As to the other Clause of putting out, I suppose he means Mr. Greaves and Dr. Potter. To which take this answer: The Bishop of Salisbury never had but two Places in Oxford, in which he succeeded the Persons above written: How he obtained the Savilian Astronomy Professorship, or rather, how it was forced upon him, we have truly and amply delivered in the third Chapter; where it appears, he did not turn out Mr. Greaves, as it is here maliciously insinuated. As to his being Precedent of Trinity-College, after Mr. Hawes had resigned, he was chosen by the Suffrages of the Fellows, who had a legal Authority to Elect, neither can he, by accepting of this Place, be truly accounted to put Dr. Potter, who was Ejected by the Visitors many Years before, as we have declared in the seventh Chapter, or so much, as to keep him out; for he was, as the Times went then, uncapable of being Elected, and of enjoying it, if he had been chosen. As to the last part of his Accusation; His boasting of his Loyalty to the King and Church, after his Majesties Restoration. Why might he not glory in a laudable Action, and a Matter of Truth? For, as we have made it appear in the second Chapter, he was an Actor, and great Sufferer in that Good Cause.  
Mr. Wood had for a long time used the liberty to revile and speak disrespectfully of several Eminent Persons, moved thereunto, either by a private pique, or to please some others, who looked upon their Promotion with an Evil Eye; this I say he had done for a long time, with Impunity, but Vengeance, or Punishment, at last, though late, overtook him: It cannot be said of him, Distulit in seram, commissa piacula mortem; that is, He went to his Grave unpunished; for he lived to see his Book censured and burnt, himself expelld the University, obliged to Recant, and give security not to offend any more in that kind; and this he underwent for writing too lavishly concerning a Great Man, dead long since, upon the complaints of some of his Relations; whereof take this Authentic Proof, as it is Registered in the Chancellor's Court at Oxford, and Printed by Authority, in the Gazette, Numb. 2893, from Monday the 31. of july, to Thursday August 3. 1693, in these words.  

Oxford, july 31. 1693.  
ON the 29 th'. Instant, Anthony A. Wood, was Condemned in the Chancellor's Court of the University of Oxford, for having Written and Printed in the Second Volume of his Athenae Oxonienses, divers infamous Libels against the Right Honourable Edward, late Earl of Clarendon, Lord High Chancellor of England, and Chancellor of the said University, and was therefore banished the said University, until such time as he shall subscribe such a public Recantation, as the Judge of the Court shall approve of, and give Security not to offend in the like nature for the future. And the said Book was therefore also decreed to be burnt before the public Theatre, and on this Day it was burnt accordingly; and public Programmas of his Expulsion, are already affixd on the three usual places.   
This Punishment was severe enouf, and may warn little ones, not to provoke the Powerful. But as to what he has written against the Bishop of Salisbury, I freely forgive him, for this reason; but before I declare it, give me leave to tell a short Story, which I heard at Rome. There was heretofore in that City a famous Confessor, who finding that Age and Infirmity had impaird his Memory, fearing this might render him unfit for his Profession, made use of this Invention to remedy that defect: He had always in readiness, when any Penitent repaired to him to Confess a Board, and a piece of Chalk, with which he scored their Sins, using several Marks, according to their degrees. It happened, that one confessed he had killed a Man. That's a great Sin, said the Father, and made a long Chalk upon the Trencher: After that he confessed he had got a Bastard. Was it, said the Ghostly Father, very gravely, a Male, or Female? The Penitent answered, it was a Manchild. Say you so, replied the Priest; A Man is Killed, and another got in his stead, set one against the other, then spitting upon his Fingers, rubs out the Chalk. To apply this, the reason I promised to give for my Absolving Mr. Wood is this; He had written much good of the Bishop of Salisbury, and truly, and but a little bad, and that falsely: Set one against the other, and let it be, as if he had never done either the one, or other. And here I should dismiss Mr. Wood, and close this Chapter, had I not a just cause of quarrelling with him upon mine own account, for having endeavourd to rob me of my deserved Praise, and to obscure the most glorious Action of my Life. 
— Diripere Ausus  
Haerentem Capiti, multa cum laude, Coronam.  In not mentioning that famous Contestation concerning Formalities, which I have describd at large in the fifth Chapter, or my being Proctor, but out of Ignorance or Design, either of which is sufficient to ruin the Credit of an Historian, he has falsified the History; having made the Proctors Bifield and Conant, serve for the Years 1657, and 1658, which is not only notoriously untrue, but also, it thrusts my College and myself out of the Fasti, or the University Chronicles; which is an intolerable grievance to Persons thirsty of Fame, and ambitious of Honour: But for our comfort, whoever consults the University Register, or the Convocation Books, will be easily and clearly convinced of the truth of what I have here asserted.  
Hence I conclude, if he may not be credited in a Matter so notoriously known, and of such importance to his History, we may, with good reason, suspect the Character he gives of a Person, with whom, I firmly believe, he never had any Conversation.   

CHAP. XXIV. Of the Bishop's Sickness and Death.  
THE Bishop of Salisbury dated his indisposition of Health, from a Fever he had in London, in the Year 1660, which was not well cured, as we have mentioned before; he was very ill when he was to be consecrated Bishop of Exeter, and not without apprehension that he should not survive that Solemnity. It was a cold rainy morning when I waited on him to Lambeth when he was to be consecrated, and he had not been out of his Chamber for some Weeks before. He went Sick to Exeter, and was confined to his Chamber a long while, yet he remitted nothing of his Study; during that time he made the Notitiae of his Diocese mentioned in the ninth Chapter. But his often travelling betwixt Exeter and London, conduced much to the meliorating of his Health, and enabled him to endure his Malady, though not wholly to subdue it. I have heard him say, that Colds, to which he was very subject, never accompanied him the whole Journey, but always left him before he reachd Salisbury, either in his going to London, or returning to Exeter. After he was Bishop of Salisbury, he was seized by a dangerous scorbutical Atrofy and Looseness, as we have said in the ninth Chapter, which was cured by riding; 'tis a very good Recipe, but a dear one, ℞ caballum, that is, Up and ride. After he left off this Exercise, by which he received so much good, he complained of a pain in his Toe, though, I believed then, that the Malady was in his Head, but I found he was displeased at my telling him so. I went upon this reason, upon Inspection no Artist could tell, which Toe was faulty; nay, I have seen the Surgeons handle and squeeze it without causing him to complain. This Malady cost him many hundred pounds in Spirit of Wine, totus arden's, as the Chemists call it, in dry and wet Baths, Apothecaries and Surgeons, who took his Money and laughed at him in their sleeves. I have often wished him a smart fit of the Gout, having known by the experience of others, that it clears the Head, and I doubt not, but if he had arrived to it, it might have prolonged his Life. They who are used to this Distemper, so frequent in the Western parts of England, esteem every new access a renewing the Lease of their Lives. I know a Gentleman who lived in the Close in Salisbury, who told me, I am not well, nor ever shall be, till I have a fit of the Gout, and for want of it, he in a little time died. I have heard some of those Arthritic Persons say, that the Gout itself is more tolerable than the distraction in their Thoughts, and hypochondriacal Imaginations, which succeed a Fit, if the Gout does not return in a convenient time. I have also heard, that the Archbishop of Canterbury, I mean Shelden, did not only wish for the Gout, but proffered a thousand pound to any Person who would help him to it; looking upon it as the only remedy for the distemper in the Head, which he feared, might in time, prove an Apoplexy, as in fine it did, and killed him. In what I come from saying, by the word Gout, which is sometimes desirable, I mean the acute Pain, collected and fixed, during the Fit, in parts remote from the Head, and Heart, as in the Fingers, Hands, Legs, and Toes.  
The Bishop had an ill Memory, even when he was in his best Health, which he empaird, by committing all things to writing, and so found by experience the Italian Saying true. 
Chi Scrive, non ha Memoria.   
That is, Writing destroys the Memory. If you would make a Servant good, you must trust and employ him  
He having left off all Exercises, as I said before, his melancholy Distemper, and decay of Memory gained upon him sensibly, of which I shall give you a few Instances. At the Visitation of the Church, of which I shall speak presently, he asked several times for one of the Commissioners, who sat next to him at Dinner, which was taken notice of by all the Company. When he took the Air in his Coach, which he used to do, almost to the day of his death, he has several times said to me, Come bear me company once more, for 'twill be the last time of my going abroad; and perceiving me to smile, what, said he, do you rejoice to see me so Ill? No, my Lord, I replied, I should be very sorry, if I had the same opinion of your Health, as I perceive you have; but I have heard these words so frequently, and doubt not but I shall again, that they put me not in fear. When he has been upon the Plains, he has imagined himself so weak, that he could neither walk, or stand upon his Legs; then I have said, my Lord, you know not your strength, pray be pleased to light out of the Coach and try; I have prevailed with him, and he has walked near half a mile. He used to be carried from one part of his Chamber to another in a Chair; I once went down and left him reading, and at my return, observed several Books had been removed from one Table to another; whereupon I asked him, whether any body had been there since my departure: He answered no; but why ask you that question? Then I replied, I congratulate your Strength, for either you can go, or these Folio's fly, I left them perched upon that Table, from whence they are removed. But to draw to a Conclusion. Some unkind usage, which he thought he received from the Court, which we have related in the thirteenth Chapter, together with the bad prospect of the public Affairs, all things tending to Popery and Confusion, concurring with the unjust Faction in his Church, raised by the Dean, and fomented by some of the Prebendaries, joined with his natural Distemper, took away his Memory, almost entirely; so that for some Years before his death, he was so altered, that he seemed only the shadow of himself. I style this Faction Unjust, for it was judgd so by the Visitors, who condemned the Dean to beg the Bishop's pardon, which I saw him do. These Visitors were, the Right Reverend Fathers in God, Thomas Lord Bishop of Rochester, my ancient Acquaintance Fellow Collegian, and ever-honoured Friend; and Dr. Lake, than Lord Bishop of Chichester, empowerd by a Commission from his Grace Dr. Sandcroft, than Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, to inspect and compose the Differences in that Church, as I have mentioned in the additions to the Salisbury Canto, Stanza 4. While the Bishop was in this declining condition, I gave him a visit at Knightsbridge; he being informed I was below, sent for me, and after saying he was glad to see me, he asked me, How does your Brother? I replied, whom does your Lordship mean? He answered, Bishop Wilkins, who had been dead near then fourteen Years. He attempted to speak to me again, beginning thus; Were not you surprised to hear, to hear, to hear; but he could proceed no further, having▪ in that short time, irrecoverably forgot what he intended to have spoke. Thenceforward he continued, for it cannot be properly said he lived, almost void of Reason. I have known, at his return from taking the Air, in a very hot Summer's day, the Nurse used this Argument to prevail with him to come out of the Coach; My Lord, there's a very good Fire in your Chamber: He did not then know his House, or his Servants; in a word, he knew nothing. I had him in my eye, when I made the fifteenth Stanza of the WISH, which begins thus: 
To outlive my Senses may it not be my Fate.  He had also strange imaginations of things which never were, and firmly believed them, One Example whereof, is too much, that one of his Servants had got so much under him, that he built a whole Street in London, and married a rich Lady.  
Poor Gentleman, the Evil that he most feared, and I may say, even foresaw, fell upon him. He has often discoursed with me concerning some Persons, whom we both knew, and who were thus decayed, and became the Properties of those who first seized on them, who kept them to their selves, made their Wills, and disposed of their Estates as they thought fit. If you ever see me in such dangers, said he, pray give me warning; but his decay was so precipitous, that 'twas impossible to relieve him. This sad Story would afford many useful Corollaries, which I leave to the Reader to find out, and apply.  
To conclude, he died january 6. Anno Dom. 168●, knowing nothing of the Revolution that had happened. He was carried from Knightsbridge to Salisbury, and buried in the place, which, he and I, had long before concerted, and agreed on, as I have delivered in the ninth Chapter. His Nevew Mr. Seth Ward, has erected a Monument for him, with a Latin Inscription, which I once resolved to have omitted, for it is long, and erroneous; but upon second considerations, I thought myself obliged to Copy and Translate it, that there might be nothing want-in this Account.   

CHAP. XXV. The Bishop's Epitaf in Latin. H. S. E.  
REverendus in Christo Pater, Sethus Ward, Ecclesiae Sarisburiensis Episcopus, & Nobilissimi Ordinis, à Periscelide dicti, Cancellarius, Ab Ecclesia Exoniensi (in qua etiam Praecentor primum, deinde Decanus fuerat) in hanc sed●m translatus, in utraque aeternum colendus.  
Buntingfordiae, in Agro Hertfordiensi natus, Cantabrigiae in Collegio Sidneiensi educatus, ejusdemque (dum per temporum iniquitatem licuit) socius. In tam privata sortis umbra, tot optimarum Artium, virtutumque dotibus effulsit, ut frustra latere cupientem, prodiderint, inque lecem simul, & utilitatem publicam protaxerint.  
Quippe ab ista Academia, ad alteram Oxoniens●m evocatus, Astronomiae primum. Professor Savilianus, Collegii deinde Sacro Sanctae Trinitatis Praeses electus, ambo, licet dispavis ingenii munia, sapientia administravit & prudentia pari, Siderum, simul & animarum, Indagator perspicax, & in amborum motibus regendis, vigilans, peritas, foelix. Praelectionum suarum famam qua claruerit foris, testatur Bullialdus. Adversus, insaniam & impiam Filosofiam, quid meruerit domi, abunde sensit, primipilus Hobbius, contra ingruentem Fanaticorum barbariem quid literis ubique praestiterit, vindicatae agnoscunt Academiae. Hae res per inquissima tempora, tam praeclare gestae, probatum satis, & bene praeparatum, meliore jam rerum vice, hominum & ingeniorum peritissimo judici Carolo Secundo, commendarunt, ut secum restaurandis Ecclesiae Anglicanae ruinis, non Erubescendus opifex allaborarit, ut prudentia, pietate, usu rerum, & praecipue moderato animo spectabilis, Civium aestus, nondum bene sedatos, componeret, inveterata ulcera leniret, concionator facundus, & potens, inculpabile gregis Exemplar, mox & Pastorum futurus, siquidem per hos laborum & meritorum gradus, ad Episcopale culmen provectus Ecclesiae suae Candelabrum, ipsamque domum Dei, non impari lumine implevit, & illustravit. In officiis erga omnes, cujus cunque sortis & Ordinis homines exequendis, aequi & decori observantissimus, cum confratribus, & Dominis suis Episcopis, inviolata concordia, absque omni, (nisi mutuo benefaciendi) certamine semper vixit. Apud Clerum suum, tanquam fratres, & filios dilectissimos, autoritate & reverentia, non metu, aut fastu dignitatam Praelati illibatam conservavit. Nobiles, & Cives, munificentia, domesticos liberali tractatione, devinxit. In asserendis Ecclesiae juribus, ut vindex acerrimus, ita nec deses in suis, Cancellariatum Periscelidis, sedis suoe antiquum decus, postquam per CL. circiter annos, penes Laicos subsedisset, secundum vindicias sibi postulavit, & recepit. Palatii Episcopalis, largus, & Sedulus Instaurator, nec minus erga Templum munificus, sed praecipua, & palmaria illi fuit Pauperum cura, in hac, neque metas, neque terminos, aut vivens, aut moriens pietati suae praescripsit. Subsidum sine fine parans.  
Buntingfordiae, Caenobium quatuor Viris totidemque feminis copioso, & honesto, apparatu instructum fundavit. Cantabrigiae, in Collegio Christi, sex Scholarium numero, aequo jure, & Privilegio cum caeteris gaudentium, pristinam fundationem adauxit.  
In hac Urbe, Collegium Decem Presbyterorum viduis, Apostolico ritu instituit, primitiva munificentia donavit. Haec omnia agentem, & peragentem, Senectus primum deinde mors, utraque pariter tranquilla, pariter matura, praemunitum, & praeparatum, occuparunt.  

Anno AEtatis suae LXXII.  
Anno Translationis XXII.  
Anno AErae Christianae MDCLXXXIII.   
I, Lector, & plures illi similes operarios, huic Vineae apprecare.   

CHAP. XXVI. The Epitaf in English.  
THis good Bishop deserved a better Epitaf, this is heavy, long, and tedious, but being sifted, and garbled, it may be thus rendered into English, viz. 
Here lies the Reverend Father in God, Seth Ward, Bishop of Salisbury, and Chancellor of the most Noble Order of the Garter. He had been successively, Chanter, Dean, and Bishop of Exeter, from whence he was translated unto this Diocese▪  
He was Born at Buntingford in Hertfordshire, Educated at Cambridge, and Fellow of Sidney College, till thence ejected, for refusing the Covenant. Afterwards he removed to Oxford, whence he was, first Savilian Professor of Astronomy, and afterwards Precedent of Trinity College. In the execution of both those Places, he gave ample testimony of his Learning and Prudence, and gained great Reputation. During his abode at Oxford, he wrote against Bullialdus, and Mr. Hobbs, as also a Vindication of the Universities, in reply to one Webster of Cletherow, who had writ a Pamflet to prove them useless. The Fame of his Learning, his Eloquent and powerful Preaching, his experience, and ability for Business, caused King Charles the Second to take notice of him, and make him a Bishop, and to use his assistance in repairing the ruins of the Church, to which he was an Ornament and Support. With his Brethren the Bishops, he had no other Contention, but striving which of them should do most good. With the Clergy of his Diocese, he lived as a prudent and affectionate Father amongst his Children, and with his Paternal Authority, not by his Pride and Haughtiness, conserud the Episcopal Dignity inviolable. He drew to himself the love of all, by his Liberality, Hospitality, affable, humble, cheerful, and obliging Conversation.  
He was at vast Expense in rebuilding his Palace, in repairing and beautifying the Cathedral.  
He was a zealous and successful Assertor of the Rights of the Church, as appears by his recovering the Chancellorship of the Garter, and getting it annexed to the Bishops of Salisbury for ever, after it had been in Lay hands about a hundred and fifty Years.  
His greatest care was for the Poor, whom he not only liberally fed in his Life, but provided for also after his Death.  
At Christ's College in Cambridge, he Instituted six Scholarships, enjoying the same Privileges with those of the old Foundation.  
At Buntingford he built an Hospital for four poor Men, and as many Women, and endowd it with a competent Maintenance.  
In this City he erected the College of Matrons, and generously endowd it with a comfortable subsistence for Ten Widows of Orthodox Clergymen. Old Age and Death seized on him, thus doing, and found him forewarned, and prepared: He died in the Seventy second Year of his Age, the Twenty second of his Translation, and in the Year of our Lord, 1688.  
Go, Reader, pray that more such Labourers may be sent into the Vineyard.    

CHAP. XXVII. The Conclusion.  
IF you tell an Italian, such a one is vastly Rich, his usual reply is, Damn mi lo morto: that is, It will appear at his death whether he be or not. Ovid, not without reason, enlarges the time, in these words: 
— Dicique beatus,  
Ante obitum nemo, supremaque funera debet.  That is, No Man ought to be accounted happy, b●fore he is dead and buried. So Petrarch, 
Il Giorno, la sera, la vita, loda il Fine.  That is, Call not the day fair, wherein it reins before Sunset; Nor that life happy, which does not end well.  
I should have accounted this Bishop of Salisbury invidiously happy, had his Exit been answerable to his glorious Acting upon the Stage of the World: Had he either died sooner, or lived longer, I mean, had he died before that great, I may say, Total decay of his Senses and Reason befell him, or lived with them entire, Integra cum ment, to have born his share, and added one more to the number of those Faithful Bishops, whose Imprisonment, Trial, and Deliverance, ought never to be forgotten, had he lived to have seen those Clouds blown over, the Church and Civil Rights of England restored and secured. 
jamque Opus exegi—  Although I do not pretend to what follows: 
— quod nec jovis Ira, nec Ignis,  
Nec poterit ferrum, nec Edax abolere vetustas.  Yet, I believe, this Book will be longer lived than the Author, and that I shall be consumed by Worms, before the Moths shall have devoured it. I have, I say, finished the Task I imposed upon myself, as to the Performance, the Readers will be Judges, according to their Capacities and Inclinations; but if they pronounce Sentence against me, I have this to hold up my Spirits, that I am certain, No Man could have written this Life better, or so well, without my assistance.  
Now one word to thee, my little Book, if the Fanatics rise up in Arms and assault thee; 
Tu ne cede malis, sed contra Audentior ito.  That is, Let not thy noble Courage be cast down. Fight it out to the last drop of Blood, never yield, never beg Quarter, for they will give thee none, for having spoken well of a Bishop. Let this be thy comfort, the more they rail against thee, the more despitefully they use thee; thou shalt be so much the more in my favour, and I shall think it a sufficient reason to believe, that there is something good in thee, whereat they are so much offended.  
And now I have no more to say of the Bishop of Salisbury, and only this concerning myself. I thank God for prolonging my days, till I have given the World this public Testimony of my Gratitude; and here, without begging the Reader to be Courteous, or making Apologies for my Style, for my long frequent, and, as they will be thought by some, impertinent Digressions, I shall conclude with those Verses of Imperiale. 
— Meglio Amo,  
Al mondo tutto Dicitor mal saggio,  
E scarso d' Arte, è d' alto Still mendico,  
Che, à te solo parer, non grato Amico.   
Which may be thus Translated, 

I had rather the whole World should say of me,  
My Style is flat and trivial, there's no Wit,  
Nor one grain of good Sense in all I have writ,  
Then seem ungrateful, blessed Saint, to thee.   

Liberavi Animam meam Domine nunc dimittis.    
I have disengaged my Soul, I have paid my Debt to my deceased Friend, I am, I thank God, arrived to a good Old Age, without Gout or Stone, with my External Senses, but little decayed, and my Intellectuals, though none of the best, yet as good as ever they were. Lord, now dismiss thy Servant in Peace, according to thy Word.   
FINIS.   

Books Printed for W. Keblewhite, at the Swan in St. Paul's Churchyard.  

FIght Chirurgical Treatises on these following Heads: 1. Of tumors. 2. Of Ulcers. 3. Of Diseases of the Anus. 4. Of the Kings-Evil. 5. Of Wounds. 6. Of Gunshot Wounds. 7. Of Fractures and Luxations. 8. Of the Lues Venerea. By Richard Wiseman, Serjeant-Chirurgeon to King Charles the Second. The Third Edition. Folio.  
The Condemnation of Mons. Du Pin's History of Ecclesiastical Authors, by the Archbishop of Paris: Also his own Retractation, from the French. Quarto.  
A Letter of Advice to a Friend, upon the Modern Argument of the Lawfulness of Simple Fornication, half Adultery, and Polygamy, Quarto  
An Enquiry into the Nature, Necessity, and Evidence of Christian Faith, in several Essays. Part I. Of Faith in General, and of the belief of a Deity. Part II. Of Faith, with respect to Divine Providence. By john Cockburn, D. D. Octavo.  
Nomenclator Classicus sire Dictionariolum Trilingue. By I. Ray, Fellow of the Royal Society. For the use of Schools. Octavo.  
A Discourse concerning the Inventions of Men in the Worship of God. By the Right Reverend Dr. William King, Lord Bishop of London-Derry. Octavo.  
— his Admonition to the Dissenters of his Diocese. Octavo.  
Mr. Clutterbuck's Vindication of the Liturgy of the Church of England; explaining the Terms, Order, and Usefulness of it. Octavo.  
Fifteen Sermons, preached upon several Occasions, and on various Subjects, by john Cockburn, D. D. Octavo.