The Phoenix of these late times: Or the life of Mr. Henry Welby, Esq. who lived at his house in Grub-street forty four years, and in that space, was never seen by any. Aged 84. Showing the first occasion, and the reasons thereof. Whose Portraiture, you may behold, as it was taken at his death. With Epitaphs and Elegies of the late deceased Gentleman, who lieth buried in S. Giles Church near Cripple gate, London. LONDON: Printed by N. Okes, and are to be sold by Richard Clotterbuck at his shop in little Britain, at the sign of the golden ball. 1637. Mr Henry Welby, Gt. Aetatis Suae. 84. Epitaph: Obijt Die 29 Octobris 1676. Arabia yields a Phoenix, and but one. England, This Phoenix, and besides him none. To solitary Deserts boath retire, Not minding, what the World doth most admire. His Face, though it was much desired by many In forty four years was not seen by any. She, in spyal flames, in fervent zeal he dies And Boath in Time, new Phenixes shall rise. The Description of this Gentleman. THis Gentleman, Master HENRY WELBY, was forty years of age before he took this solitary life, being eighty four years old when he died: those that knew him, and were conversant with him in his former time, do report, that he was of a middle stature, a brown complexion, and of a pleasant & cheerful countenance: his hair (by reason no Barber came near him for the space of so many years) was much overgrown; so that he at his death appeared rather like an Hermit of the Wilderness, than the inhabitant of a City: His habit was plain, and without ornament; of a sad coloured cloth, only to defend him from the cold, in which there could be nothing found, either to express the least imagination of pride, or vainglory. The expense of his time was study, the use he made of it, meditation: those hours he retired from reading, he spent in prayer: He bought all books whatsoever, which came forth, only making use of the best: such as broached controversy, he laid by, as aiming at the peace of his own Conscience: What should I say? he died living, that he might live dying; his life was a perpetual death, that his death might bring him to an eternal life; who accounted himself no better than a Glow-worm here on Earth, that he might hereafter shine a most glorious Saint in heaven. Upon the Life and Death of Master Henry Welby. IF miracles and wonders with each Nation, Do strike the People there with admiration? If it be so with them, tell me I pray, Why we should not admire as well as they? We have of late seen miracles in Nature, Both for old age, some small, some great in stature; I think we gaped and stared enough at those, In which we did our folly much disclose: And seeing we have done't so well before, Faith let us wonder now a little more; For we that were so perfect at it then, Do know the better how to do't again: And furthermore, 'tis such a strange thing, that You cannot blame a Man to wonder at: Read, and believe it, for indeed 'tis true, This Picture here presented to your view, Doth represent the subject of my verse, The manner of his life I will rehearse. First, having spent abroad full forty years, Some for his pleasure, mixed with cares and fears: Examaning himself, he then retired, And spent the remnant that were unexpired In burning flames of zealous contemplation, All for God's glory, and his own salvation. He bought all sorts of books, what ere came forth, Only made use of them of greatest worth: If any thing amiss therein he spied, He would be sure to lay that book aside. God had increased his Basket, and his store, And he thereof gave freely to the poor: There was to him no greater recreation, Than fasting, praying, reading, meditation: He closely kept himself from all men's sight, On all occasions he his mind would write. His life he led, for forty years and more, Besides the forty spoken of before; Full four and forty years; 'twas just so many, And in that time was never seen by any. His hair was grown, as it is figured here, That he much like a Hermit did appear. Though he be dead and gone, yet let his name For ever live, with never dying fame. J. B. Upon the Life and Death of Master Henry Welby. WHat age is this we live in, that does see, And produce wonders above Antiquity? Some Nature tax, as if our life and growth Were unto former times inferior both. Yet we saw one of late, that when he stood, He looked as he were borne before the Flood. A second, numbering days, as they should have No end, or did defy Death, and the Grave. A third, as if that Nature would amend, And contract what she did before extend, Is like a Pigmy in his height decreased, Who now will say that Miracles are ceased? Look farther in men's manners, you will find As great a disproportion in the mind: We have a Welby, can himself immure Within his Chamber, and there live secure Forty odd years, and rather more, than less, Than Israel once did in the Wilderness. He eat no Manna, nor no fare so good, And yet he never murmured at his food. Flesh he abhorred, and wine; he drank small beer, Cow's Milk and water-gruel was his cheer: It was not avarice, nor hope of gain, Nor love towards his heir, made him abstain: He was no Sectary, no Anchorite, Nor yet of that engagement, to invite To such a strictness, vain applause to win; Nor was it any penance for his sin: But once upon distaste, he took an Oath, And since all men's society did loath, Which made him live enclosed thus; yet his purse Was open, and the poor fared ne'er the worse. He read all Books, and for his recreation, He used frequent Prayer, and Contemplation. O who can found the thoughts that do arise From minds so rap't, and filled with ecstasies? Thus Welby lived according to his vow: Whose Life to us was but a Death, and now, That he his wont solitute may have, He is retired to a more silent Grave. Shackerly Marmion. The Phoenix of these late times: Or the life of M. Henry Welby Gentleman, who lived at his house in Gruh-street forty four years, and was never seen by any, aged eighty four. I AM to present you with one of that rare temperance and abstinence, that the times past, those present, or those to come, neither have already, can now, or but with great difficulty, may hereafter yield a more rare precedent. It is said of Frederick the third Emperor, that when the Physicians told him, that his Empress Augusta Leonora (being then barren) if she would drink Wine, (from which she had abstained from her youth) in these cold parts of Germany, she might easily have issue: The Emperor after some pause assented thereunto, but said withal: Malim uxorem sterilem, quam vinosam, I had rather have a wife subject to sterility, than vinosity: which being told unto to her, she made answer, True it is, that I am bound in all things to obey the will of my Lord and husband the Emperor; but if on one side he would set Wine and Life, and on the other my Denial and Death: I wish rather to die, than to drink it. Of abstinence there be four kinds: Natural, Miraculous, Violent, and Voluntary: we call that natural, when either by nature we abhor certain meats, though we be then in good and perfect health, betwixt which and us, there is an antipathy, or else, when by some distaste or disease in the stomach, we loathe such things, as our eyes can scarce endure to look upon, much less our palets to taste, and that is the first sort of abstinence: the second are such supernatural fasts, which we read of the Saints of God, Moses, and Elias, and of Christ himself in the wilderness; all which were for the space of forty days together; and these are rather for our admiration, than our imitation. The third, is violent, or compelled, when we fast because we have not wherewith to eat, as it happeneth in famine & scarcity. The fourth, and last is voluntary, which we undergo by our own counsel and reason, and that is branched into diverse sorts, as Physical, Political, Religious, superstitious, etc. which are largely disputed of by the learned. Fasting, saith one of the Fathers, purgeth the mind, enlighteneth the senses, subjects the flesh to the spirit, maketh the heart contrite and humble, disperseth the clouds of concupiscence, extinguishes the flames of lust, and strengtheneth chastity, keeping it within the secure bounds of sincerity and purity; it loveth not verbosity, it hateth superfluity, it despiseth insolency, it commends humility, and informeth a man's self of of his own infirmity: Fast and Alms are the two godly assistants unto prayer, and as Saint Gregory saith in his Homilies, such an abstinence God himself approveth, when that which thou takest from thyself, thou distributest to another, and when thy own flesh is punished, the hungry stomach of thy needy neighbour is by thee replenished. He that will fast as he ought to do, saith a learned Father, must be in prayer frequent, in judging just, in friendship faithful, in injuries patient, in contentions temperate, from filthy speaking an alien, to evil deeds averse, in banquets continent, in charity simple, amongst the crafty cautelous, amongst the sad sorrowful, amongst the evil speakers silent, amongst the humble equal, against the proud and contumacious daring, in suspicions sparing; for true abstinence is not to forbear meat, and to follow vanity, but it is rather to separate thy self from sin and iniquity: Dost thou forbear flesh, and yet wilt not make it scrupulous to feed upon thy brother? abstainest thou from wine, yet cannot refrain thyself from doing thy neighbour injury? wilt thou taste no food until the evening, and spend the whole day in oppressing the fatherless and needy? it little profiteth thee to starve thy body by keeping it from necessary viands, if in the mean time thou surfeit thy soul with superfluity of vices. Concerning the strange and strict retired & cloistered life which this Gentleman lived; it cannot be said of him, as it was spoke of those, who took upon them a Monastic life of old, to be in the cloister with their bodies, & in the streets in their mind; now within, anon abroad; to sing one thing, to think another; to have a Psalm in their tongues, but not the sense in their heads; to be in heart desperate, in habit dissolute, to have wand'ring eyes, & wavering thoughts, the shape of one religious, the substance of one that is irregular, and if he have but the Cucullus, (which the old Proverb saith, non facit monachum) the Hood which maketh not the Monk; all is safe, all is well, he apprehends no other hope, he aimeth at no other happiness. If thou takest upon thee a retired life, what makest thou in the multitude? If thou dost profess silence, why pratest thou abroad amongst the people? If thou only professest fast and rears, why dost thou at any time gurmundize or laugh? Of a retired man, his simplicity is his Philosophy: but thou wilt say, that thy ambition is to teach and instruct others; thou oughtest rather to weep for them, than to wrangle with them: but if thou dost cover to be a teacher, know thou what thou hast to do; let the vileness of thy habit, the sincerity of thy countenance, the innocency of thy life, and the sanctity of thy conversation be their example and precedent, and that is thy best Doctrine and Instruction. These be the words of an Ancient and Reverend Father: These our garments (which I weeping speak) ought only to be the Emblems of Humility, are worn by the separated men of these days in all pride and ostentation; nay, our own Climes can scarcely afford us wherewith to apparel ourselves. For the Monk and the Martial man from the same piece of cloth buyeth his Hood and his habit: But Sobriety and Solitude, with voluntary poverty, are the true Ensigns of all monastic retirement: when those amongst us, which would pretend themselves to be reclusists, bear their eyes, which ought to be dejected upon the earth, to look still upon the world from whence they came, advance them up towards the Heavens, to look upon that sublimity to which they can never attain: when their fear, that should only be confined to the Cloister, tire themselves in needless journeys, both in Court, City, and Country: when those Tongues that are vowed unto Taciturnity and silence, are heard in all private and public counsels: and when those hands which are solely appropriated to supply their own necessities, are employed to snatch away the patrimony of others. But I come to a third thing most remarkable in this noble Gentleman, namely his Temperance, which I have read to be thus defined: A moderation of the desires, obedient to Reason; an affection binding and cohibiting the appetite; a mediocrity restraining the lusts and desires of all carnal affections; a virtue which governeth all the motions of the mind and body, so far, that they comply and agree with the order of persons, places, and times: The parts thereof are gentleness, liberality, gravity, sadness, severity, shamefastness, urbanity, friendship, benevolence, or goodwill, concord, love, peace, continence, clemency, charity, meekness, chastity, and honesty, moderation, taciturnity, frugality, parsimony, goodness, purity, and innocence. She is likewise that light which excelleth the darkness and obscurity of passions; she is of all virtues that are the most wholesome; for as well publicly as privately she doth persuade humane society; she exalteth the Soul, (wretchedly thrown down in vice) and restoreth her to her pristine place. She is moreover a mutual consent of the Soul, causing all disorder and irregularity to take Reason for a rule, and discretion for a direction. Whosoever is neither puffed up with praise, nor afflicted with adversity, nor moved by slanders, nor corrupted by gifts, is fortunately temperate; for there is nothing in the world better than Moderation, for by it the assaults of the flesh are subdued, and the fruits of a good life are retained: it is rich in losses, confident in perils, prudent in assaults, and happy in itself. It is the property of Justice not to violate the right of any man, and it is the Appendix of Temperance to offend no man. He cannot praise Temperance, who proposeth his chief felicity in Voluptuousness and pleasure, because it is the grand enemy to riot and excess. Solon telleth us, that it plucketh a man from all gross affections, and carnal appetites, and letteth him not exceed either in foolish rejoicing, nor ungodly sorrowing; for the pride of the flesh is to be kerbed, and restrained with the sharp Bit of Abstinence: As no man can be temperate, unless withal he be prudent: so no man can be held to be truly valiant, unless withal he be temperate. Nay more, Justice cannot subsist without it, because it is the chief point of a just man to keep his soul free from all perturbation: I conclude with that of Plotinus, Temperance is the Mother of all duty and honesty. These three virtues we have strived to illustrate unto your view, but how all these accidents meet in one subject, is the Argument now in hand. Abstinence is a virtue, found in one man, but scarcely in another; solitude and retiredness of life in few, not in many; and Temperance and Continence may be embraced by some, not by all; yet all these eminent lines meet in this one Centre, as the circumstances following shall make apparently manifest. This noble and virtuous Gentleman, Mr. Henry Welby, borne in Lincolnshire, was the eldest son of his Father, and the inheritor of a fair revenue, amounting to a thousand pounds by the year, and upward; first metriculated in the University, and after made a Student in one of the Inns of Court, where being accommodated with all the parts of a Gentleman, he after retired himself into the Country, and matched nobly unto his good liking: but thinking with himself that the world could not possibly be contained within this Island, and that England was but the least piece and member of the whole body of the Universe, he, (as many, or the most of our young gentlemen do) had a great mind to travel, as well to profit him in experience, as benefit himself in language, and to that purpose spent some few years in the Low Countries, Germany, France, and Italy, making the best use of his time, and not like some fantastic heads, learn only to drink with the Dutchmen, complemant with the Frenchmen, some aiming only to fetch Venus from Venice, others studying to steal Matchievel out of Florence, and generally bringing home fashions rather than faith, and many more vices rather than virtues. Others also by the change of the air have taken their advantage to change their religion, which is quite averse to the old Proverb, Coelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt, such as cross the seas, and travel from one Province unto another, though they receive new air, yet keep their old minds: yet this was verified in him, who well knew no error to be so dangerous, as that which is committed in Religion, because therein, and in the constant profession thereof, subsisteth our perpetual happiness, and ever-during felicity, for truth is the medicine to a troubled spirit; but if erroneously taught, it turneth into mortiferous poison. The ancient Fathers have given their especial marks, by which, the true religion may be known. First, that it serveth the true and only God. Secondly, that it serveth him according to his word. And thirdly, that it reconcileth that man unto him, which unfeignedly followeth it: it is like an even square or balance, the rule and Canon by which we are to direct our lives, and the very touchstone which discerneth truth from falsehood; moreover, as vices border upon virtues, so superstition reflecteth upon religion, which Religion doth link and unite us to serve one God with willingness and unanimity; it is the guide and conduct of all other virtues, and they who do not exercise themselves therein, thereby to resist and oppose all false and erroneous opinions, are but like those foolish and unexpert soldiers, who go to war without weapons: now if all men (as this Gentleman) would but study the truth, and strive to persevere therein, the voluptuous man would therein seek his pleasure, the gormundizer his surfeit, the proud man his ostent, the avaricious man his wealth, the ambitious man his glory; for it is the only mediocrity that can fill the vacuum, and emptiness of the heart, and sat and satisfy the desire; it serveth also for a skilful Pilot to direct us the way to heaven: when as the contrary, is that blind guide, which leadeth us the broad and spacious passage to hell: Briefly, those men may be truly termed religious, who refusing the vain and transitory pleasures of the world, wholly set their thoughts and minds on divine contemplations: and so much for his religion. Now courage and courtesy are the two principal decorements that adorn a gentleman, in neither of which he was any way deficient: For the first, as he was ever far from giving any distaste, so he was never known to take any affront; for valour consisteth not in hazarding a man's person without fear, but to put on a noble resolution in a just cause; neither could this gentleman bear himself so innocuously in his youth, but that he hath been enforced to make proof of his valour in the field, in which he still came off with honour and advantage, but never boasting when he had the better, but still sparing, when he might have spoiled, holding this maxim, that to conquer is natural, but to pity heavenly; and it is the property of true courage to outface danger, conquer by custom, and end with honour: it contemneth all perils, despiseth calamities, and conquers death: Quemcunque magnanimum videris, miserum neges, None that is magnanimous can be miserable. Bias holding war with Iphicrates King of Athens, and by the disaster of War being round environed by his enemies, and his soldiers thronging about him, and ask very timorously what he would advise them in that extremity to do, with a bold and undaunted courage answered them again, Leave me, and seek your own safeties if you be so minded, and make report to those that are alive, that your General died with courage fight, and I will tell to the dead that you escaped from death basely and cowardly flying. But from his courage, I come to his courtesy. It is a true saying, as a Tree is known by its Fruit, the Gold by the Touch, and a Bell by the Sound, so is a man's Birth by his bounty; his honour by his humility, and his calling by his courtesy, which not only draweth unto us the love of strangers, but the liking of our own Countrymen: Mildness and Courtesy are the Characters of an happy soul, which never suffereth Innocence to be oppressed. Proud looks loose hearts, but kind words gain affections: That which is called common courtesy, is held to be no courtesy; for he that is alike kind to all, can be loving to none; for that which is general, cannot be drawn within the limit of a particular: But the rigour of Discipline managing and directing this virtue, and it, again, being governed by order and discretion, the one will illustrate and commend the other; so that neither rigour shall seem rough, nor courtesy contemptible; for it standeth in the stead of a moderate temperance, decking and adorning a man with mildness and generosity: for as it is the true note of Nobility, so it is the certain mark of a Gentleman, to be courteous to strangers, patient in injuries, and constant in the performance of all just promises; and for these he was known to be remarkable. To these, give me leave to add something of his liberality and bounty, whose best honour is in relieving the poor, and greatest Happiness in living in the thoughts of good men: and he well considered with himself, that the charity of a liberal man more benefitteth the giver than the receiver. For bounty in giving frail and mortal things here upon earth, receiveth immortal meed and reward in Heaven. He that is able to give, and giveth not, (saith the Emperor Aurelius) is no better than an enemy; and he that promiseth a present benefit, and delayeth the performance thereof, is a suspicious friend. It is an old saying, There is no greater folly, than to confer a courtesy upon an old man, or a child, the one being likely to dye before he can requite it, the other being so young, that he is not able to remember it: But his bounty was known to be free, willing, and without respect of Age, Sex, or persons. But such is the corruptness and abuse of these times, that the memory of a benefit doth soon vanish away, but the remembrance of an injury will stick in the heart for ever. But this is a Law that ought to be observed betwixt the giver and the receiver, that the one should instantly forget the gift he hath bestowed, and the other should always have it in remembrance: It also becometh him much better to hold his peace that giveth a reward, that it becometh him to be silent, that receiveth a benefit. But his liberality (as Cicero ingeniously confesseth) consisted in giving with judgement. This was the manner of his behaviour and carriage of life for the space of Forty years, (I mean till he arrived at that age) being respected by the rich, prayed for by the poor, and indeed, generally beloved; having a Daughter beauteous and virtuous, furnished with all the accomplishment that either Nature could give, or Education and Instruction adorn and rectify, who was espoused to a * Sir Christopher Hilliard in Yorkshire. Knight of good descent, and a noble Family, to the Father's great joy and comfort: but as all mundane happiness is fading, and all earthly delights transitory, to day waxing, to morrow withering; now flourishing, and anon flagging: so it fared with this worthy Gentleman, who late environed with all the felicity and contentments of this world, was almost in a moment abandoned and retired from all the pleasures and delights of the world. The occasion whereof, (some say) was the unkindness, or (which I may rather term it) the unnaturalness and inhumanity of a younger brother, who upon some discontent or displeasure conceived against him, rashly and resolutely threatened his Death: But this innocent Gentleman measuring the dispositions of others by himself, and not imagining such barbarous cruelty could be in man, of what condition soever, much less in a Brother, he held them as the rash menaces of unbridled youth, which by good counsel, or complying with the others desires, might be easily reclaimed, reckoning them as words that would never break into wounds, and doubtful language that could not easily beget danger: and as true Innocence goeth still armed with confidence, and he that is guiltless, still dreadless; so he neither feared his courage, nor shunned his company, till at the length the two Brothers meeting face to face, the younger drew a Pistol charged with a double Bullet from his side, and presented upon the elder, which only gave fire, but by the miraculous providence of GOD no further report: at which the elder seizing upon the younger, disarmed him of his tormentary Engine, and without any further violence offered, so left him: which bearing to his chamber, and desirous to find whether it were only a false fire, merely to fright him; or a charge, speedily to dispatch him: when he found the Bullets, and apprehended the danger he had escaped, he fell into many deep considerations: For wise men will always use circumspections, and first consider what to do, before they conclude any thing: Now the causes that beget this deliberation and counsel with ourselves, are fear, care, necessity, and affection: Fear afflicteth, care compelleth, necessity bindeth, affection woundeth: his fear afflicted him, lest hazarding himself to the like danger, he might be the occasion of shortening his own innocent life, and hastening his brother's shameful and infamous death: his care compelled him by his future cautelous carriage to prevent both: necessity bound him in mere fraternal piety, to prevent all future occasions that might prejudice either of them in so high and horrid a nature: and lastly, his affection so far and so deeply wounded him, that since, where he expected the love of a Brother, he had found the malice of an enemy, since he could not enjoy his face with safety, he would ever after deny the sight of his own face to all men whatsoever. And upon the former considerations he grounded this irrevocable resolution, which he kept to his dying day; which that he might the better observe, he took a very fair House in the lower end of Grub-streete, near unto Cripplegate, and having contracted a numerous retinue into a private and small family, having the house before prepared for his purpose, he entered the door, choosing to himself out of all the rooms three private chambers, best suiting with his intended solitude: The first for his Diet, the second for his Lodging, and the third for his Study, one within another: and the while his Diet was set on the Table by one of his servants an old Maid, he retired into his lodging-chamber, and while his Bed was making, unto his Study, still doing so, till all was clear: and there he set up his rest, and in Forty four years never, upon any occasion, how great soever, issued out of those chambers, till he was borne thence upon men's shoulders; neither in all that time did Son in law, Daughter, or Grandchild, Brother, Sister, or Kinsman, stranger, Tenant, or servant, young, or old, rich, or poor, of what degree or condition soever, look upon his face, saving the ancient Maid, whose name was Elizabeth, who made his fire, prepared his bed, provided his diet, and dressed his Chamber; which was very seldom, or upon an extraordinary necessity that he saw her; which Maidservant died not above six days before him. As touching his Abstinence in all the time of his retirement, he never tasted Flesh, nor Fish; he never drank either Wine, or strong water; his chief food was Oatmeal boiled with water, which some call Gruel; and in Summer, now and then a Salad of some choice cool herbs. For dainties, or when he would feast himself upon an high day, he would eat the yelke of an hen's egg, but no part of the white; and what bread he did eat, he cut out of the middle part of the loaf, but of the crust he never tasted; and his continual drink was four shillings beer, and no other; and now and then, when his stomach served him, he did eat some kind of suckets; and now and then drank red Cow's milk, which his maid Elizabeth fetched for him out of the fields hot from the Cow: and yet he kept a bountiful table for his servants, with entertainment sufficient for any stranger or tenant, that had any occasion of business at his house. In Christmas holy-days, at Easter, and upon all solemn festival days, he had great cheer provided, with all dishes seasonable with the times, served into his own Chamber with store of wine, which his maid brought in; when he himself (after thanks given unto God for his good benefits) would pin a clean Napkin before him, and putting on a pair of white holland sleeves, which reached to his elbows, call for his knife, and cutting dish after dish up in order, send one to one poor neighbour, the next to another, whether it were Brawn, Beef, Capon, Goose, etc. till he had left the table quite empty: Then would he give thanks again, lay by his linen, put up his knife again, and cause the cloth to be taken away; and this would he do Dinner and Supper upon these days without tasting one morsel of any thing whatsoever; and this custom he kept to his dying day, an abstinence far transcending all the Carthusean Monks, or Mendicant Friars, that I ever yet could read of. Now as touching the solitude of his life, to spend so many Summers and Winters in one small or narrow room, dividing himself not only from the society of men, but debarring himself from the benefit of the fresh and comfortable air; not to walk or to confer with any man, which might either shorten the tediousness of the night, or mitigate the prolixnesse of the day: what retirement could be more? or what restriction greater? in my opinion it far surpasseth all the Vestals and Votaries, all the Ancresses and Authors that have been memorised in any History. Now if any shall ask me how he passed his hours, and spent his time? no doubt, as he kept a kind of perpetual fast, so he devoted himself unto continual prayer, saving those seasons which he dedicated to his study; for you must know, that he was both a Scholar and a Linguist; neither was there any Author worth the reading, either brought over from beyond the seas, or published here in the kingdom, which he refused to buy, at what dear rate soever; and these were his companions in the day, and his Councillors in the night; insomuch, that the saying may be verified of him, Nunquam minus solus, quam cum solus: He was never better accompanied, or less alone, then when alone. I need not speak much of his continence, since that doth necessarily include itself in the former. Abstinence is a fast from meats and vice, but continence is a continuance in all the four cardinal virtues: what should I say? his continence he expressed in the time he lived in the world, and his abstinence in the greater part of his age, after he had separated himself from the world: every man is known by his actions; neither is any man to be accounted a good man for his age, but for his charitable deeds; it is most true indeed, that such an one as we call good, is better than the good he doth, and a wicked man is worse than the evil that he is able to do. But in this gentleman, the thing most worthy our observation is, that he, who was borne to so fair fortunes, and might have enjoyed prosperity, for his soul's sake, and to enjoy the pleasures of a future world, should study adversity; to have much, and enjoy little; to be the Lord of all, and a servant to all; to provide for others to eat, whilst he prepared himself to fast; and out of his great plenty to supply others, whilst himself wanted: and so much for his great continence; but all this while I am come to no particulars of his charity. Charity (saith Saint chrysostom) is the scope of all God's commandments: it ransometh from sin, and delivereth from death: for as the body without the soul can enjoy no life, so all other virtues without charity, are merely cold and fruitless: she in adversity is patient, in prosperity temperate, in passions strong, in good works active, in temperance secure, in hospitality bountiful, amongst her true children joyful, amongst her false friends patient; and the only measure to love God, is to love him without measure: moreover, it maketh a man absolute and perfect in all other virtues, for there is no virtue perfect without love, nor any love that can be truly sincere without charity: a poor man being in charity is rich, but a rich man without charity is poor: Charity and Pride both feed the poor, but after diverse sorts; the one to the praise and glory of God, the other to purchase praise and glory with men; the first concerneth him, the latter not. He was no Pharisee, to seek the praise and vain ostent amongst men; neither did he blow a trumpet before him when he gave his alms; neither when any impudently clamord at his gate, were they therefore immediately relieved; but he out of his private chamber, which had a prospect into the street, if he spied any sick, weak, or lame, would presently send after them, to comfort, cherish, and strengthen them, and not a trifle to serve them for the present, but so much as would relieve them many days after. He would moreover inquire, what neighbours were industrious in their callings, and who had great charge of children, and withal, if their labour and industry could not sufficiently supply their families; to such he would liberally send, and relieve them according to their necessities; and this was charity as it ought to be; for so our best Divines have defined it. I cannot reckon up the least of infinites in this nature done by him, and therefore I leave them to the favourable consideration of the charitable and understanding Reader, thus concluding, He may not improperly be called a Phoenix: for as in his life he might be termed a Bird of Paradise, so in his death he might be compared to that Arabian Monady, who having lived fourscore and four years, half in the world, and half from the world, built his own funeral nest or pile, composed of the Teberinth and Cinnomon, inter-woven with Onyx and Galbanum, with the sweet and odoriferous smells of Myrrh, Aloes, and Cassia; and so made his deathbed an Altar, and his godly zeal kindling those sweet spices, sent up his soul in an acceptable Incense, to that blessed and sacred Throne, where a contrite heart, and humble spirit were never despised. To the sacred Memory of that most abstenious Gentleman, Mr. Henry Welby. OF any man at once alive, and dead, Should any make report, (as seen or read) He'd hardly find belief: yet they that knew This shadows substance, say this may be true, And in his person prove it; for his breath Was balanced equally, 'twixt Life and Death: To Heaven he lived, but to this treacherous world, (Her toys and all her honyed-poyson hurled far from his bosom) he was dead; his Face Not seen by any, in the lingering pace Of four and forty Winters: but his hand And heart were often, in his strict command Of Alms, and bounteous Largesse; his Estate Not seen so at his Table, as his Gate. Forty four Winters one poor petty room, To him, was all the World, to him a Tomb. Tho. Brewer. In Commendation of that virtuous Gentleman Mr. Henry Welby. WEll be the blessed Subject of these lines, Well be the Star that now in glory shines, Well be thou, well be all that live to dye, And dye in grace to live immortally. Thou that didst from the world thyself exclude, And (by abstaining flesh) the flesh subdued; And with the Sword, (God's Word) warred with the devil, Still striving to shun all occasions evil: For knowing man's best works to be impure, From sight of man thou didst thyself immure: Where reading good things, sin was mortified, Hope was confirmed, and Faith was fortified. Thy Charity did work, (not one day idle) True Prayer and Fasting did thy frailty bridle, And (like Cornelius) up to Heaven ascended Thy Alms and Orisons, and there attended, Until thy soul shook off earth transitory, To be enshrined, and crowned with endless glory. J. T. Upon the Life of that most worthy Gentleman, Master Henry Welby. OLd Henry Welby, well be thou for ever, Thy Purgatory's past, thy Heaven ends never. Of Eighty four years' life, full forty four Man saw thee not, nor e'er shall see thee more. 'Twas Piety and Penitence caused thee So long a prisoner (to thyself) to be: Thy bounteous house within, expressed thy mind, Thy Charity without, the poor did find. From Wine thou was't a duteous Rechabite, And flesh so long time shunned thy appetite: Small Beer, a Caudle, Milk, or water-gruel Strengthened by grace, maintained thy daily duel Against the witching World, the Flesh, and Fiend, Which made thee live and dye well, there's an end. JOHN TAYLOR. AN EPITAPH, Or rather, A Funeral Elegy upon the Right Worshipful Mr. Henry Welby, Esquire, who died at his House in Grub-streete, and lieth buried in the Church of Saint Giles, near Cripplegate. WHo on the setting Sun shall cast their eyes, May easily guess next morning how he'll rise. Those that our parting from this old world view, May presuppose what welcome in the new Is to be had; but best, when Qualis vita Is sweetly Echoed to by Finis ita. If this be true, as no man needs to doubt, Search this man's life, nay, all the world throughout, To parallel in both, 'tmay be denied Many more strictly lived, more Saintlike died: And therefore we may fairly hope, that he Is now where we may wish ourselves to be. This man through many storms & tempests hurled, Though he was in, yet was not of the world; When forty four years since he did divide Himself from men, even then to men he died: And at that time, his precious soul to save, His Chamber made his Chapel, Bed his Grave. What did he now then? since none twice can dye, He changed his Bed, remote from noise to lie, Where undisturbed, he better rest might take, Until the Angel's Trumpet him awake. This, of such note, so late, shall we let pass Slightly? No; rather make his Dust our Glass, Him our Memento, and his Life (no less) A Mirror, by the which our lives to dress. And though we strive not to be like austere, (For that indeed scarce humane strength can bear) Let's in some sort our love to virtue show, And crawl like Children, ere they well can go. If he hath been so abstinent? at least Let us forbear to surfeit when we feast. He drank no Wine at all, let us not use Immoderate Cups, our senses to abuse. His clothes were only to defend from cold, Shall our pied garments than be daubed with gold? Many his Manors were, and great his rent, Yet he with one small chamber was content. Then let not such, already well possessed By powers hie hand, their lands from others wrest. His Temperance all vain objects did despise, Let us then make some covenant with our eyes: If he from his best strength to his last hours Pulled down his body, let's not pamper ours. Rare Precedents ought to be followed most: Than this, a rarer there's no Age can boast. THO. HEYWOOD. FINIS.