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66 did not only give his consent (without which the 66 thing could not have been done) but was very for“ ward for the doing of it, though hereby he did « not only considerably lessen his own profit, but 6 likewise incur no fmall censure and hazard as the “ times then were. And left this had not been kind65.ness enough to that worthy person, whose place « he possessed, in his last will, he left his son, Sir 66 John Collins, a legacy of one hundred pounds. 66 And as he was not wanting either in respect or « real kindness to the rightful owner; so neither os did he stoop to do any thing unworthy, to obtain 66. that place, for he never took the covenant. And ( not only fo, but, by the particular friendship and « interest which he had in some of the chief vifi-. 66 tors, he prevailed to have the greatest part of the 56 fellows of that college exempted from that imc pofition, and preserved them in their places by " that means. And to the fellows that were ejec«"ted by the visitors, he likewise freely consented, 66 that their full dividend for that year fhould be o paid them; even after they were ejected. Among or these was the reverend and ingenious Dr. Charles Mason, upon whom,after he was ejected, the col« lege did confer a good living which then fell in " their gift, with the consent of the provost, who 66 knowing him to be a worthy man, was contented " to run the hazard of the displeasure of those times. 66 So that I hope none will be hard upon him, that c he was contented upon such terms to be in a ca6 pacity to do good in bad times.” Besides his care of the college, he had a very great and good infus ence upon the university in general. Every Sunday in the afternoon, for almost twenty years together, he preached in Trinity Church, where he had a great number, not only of the young scholars, but of those of greater standing and best repute for learning in

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iii the university, his constant and attentive auditors ; and in those wild and unsettled times contributed more to the forming of the students of that univerfity to a sober sense of religion, than any man in that age. In 1658 he wrote a copy of Latin verses upon the death of Oliver Cromwell. It is printed in mufarum Cantabrigiensium luctus & gratulatio : ille in funere Oliveri Anglia Scotia & Hiberniæ protectoris ; hæc de Richardi successione feliciffimâ ad eundem. Cambridge, 1658, in 4to. Dr. Whichcate's verses are as

follow..

Non male mutati mores & lenior ætas ;
Olim vexârunt animas formidine poena
Mentes tor ferunt caupanes relligionis,
Quos Christus ducit, Romanus apostata cogit :
Flectit amore Deus, sed papa timare coercet :
Instruit ille animum, & placido lenimine menfem
Suaviter emollity, meroque favore relaxat;
Destruit hic corpus miserum, carnemque flagellis
Affligit, propriis quo pofit subdere votis.
Quæ prohibent removet, raptusque furore gehenna
Àilegans.coelos, ad Tartara dira remittit.
Vis, dolus & fraudes funt instrumenta maligni
Paftoris, fatanaque artes, quas pura repellit
Relligio, nec coelestes finit ele fcoeleftas.
Magna fides penetrat cor, spiritualibus armis
Aggreditur victrix, totum peragratque per orbem,
Plena sui subnixa Deo, carnalia spernens,
Sobrius ausculta veterum quid pagina narrat ; " '
Fata trahunt homines cruciatibus ingeniosos,
Decumbunt tremuli non ficcâ marte tyranni,
Arte fua pereant semper (justissima lex eft)
Artifices nequam, quos inclementia pulsat.
At pater hic patriæ, non eft tormenta minatus,
Annos usque expirat, et alta in pace quiescit.
Filius ascendit fimilis gratusque Britannis,

Que.

Quæque Deum fapiunt fcit pectora fleetere lente.
Nam ratione animum generofum ducere fuave eft ;
At mentem ingenuam trahere ingratum atque moleftum,

After he left Cambridge, he came to London, and was chosen minister of Black Friars, where he continued till the fire of London in 1665, and then retired to a donative which he had at Milton near Cam-, bridge, where he preached constantly, and relieved the poor, and had their children taught to read at his own charge, and made up differences among the neighbours. Here he Itaid till the promotion of Dr. John Wilkins to the bishoprick of Chester in 1668, when he was by his interest and recommendation, presented to the rectory of St. Laurence Jewry. But during the building of that church, upon invitation of the court of Aldermen, in the mayorality of Sir William Turner, he preached before that honourable auditory at Guild-hall Chapel' every Sunday in the afternoon with great acceptance and approbation, for about the space of seven years. When his church was built, he bestowed his pains there twice a week, where he had the general love and respect of his parish, and a very confiderable and judicious auditory, though not very numerous, by reason of the weakness of his voice in his declining age. A little before Easter in the year 1683, he went down to Cambridge, whereupon taking a great cold, he fell into a distemper, which in a few days put a period to his life. He died with uncommon sentiments of piety and devotion. He exprefsed great dislike of the principles of separation, and said, that he was the more desirous to receive the sacrament, that he might declare his full communion with the church of Christ all the world over. He disclaimed popery, and as things of near affinity with it, or rather parts of it, all superstition and

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usurpation upon the consciences of men. He died in the house of his ancient and learned friend Dr. Cudworth, master of Christ's College, in May 1683, and was interred in the church of St. Laurence Jewry, his funeral sermon being preached by Dr. Yoln Tillorson, in which his character is drawn with great justice. " I shall not, says he, insist upon his exem

plary piety and devotion towards God, of which his 66 whole life was one continued teftimony. Nor will « I praise his profound learning, for which he was “ justly had in so great reputation. The moral im" provements of his mind, a godlike temper and dis“ pofition, (as he was wont to call it) he chiefly va“ lued and aspired after; that universal charity and « goodness, which he did continually preach and

practise. His conversation was exceeding kind and « affable, grave and winning, prudent and profita« ble. He was flow to declare his judgment and mo¢ deft in delivering it. Never passionate, never pe66 remptory : so far from imposing upon others that 66 he was rather apt to yield. And though he had a « most profound and well poised judgment, yet he co was of all men I ever knew, the most patient to ¢ hear others differ from hiin, and the most easy to 66 be convinced when good reason was offered ; " and which is seldom seen, more apt to be favour66 able to another man's reason than his own. Studi

ous and inquisitive men commonly at such an age “ (at forty or fifty at the utmost) have fixed and o settled their judgments in most points, and as it « were, made their last understanding ; supposing « that they have thought, or read, or heard, what 6 can be said on all sides of things, and after that they “ grow positive, and impatient of contradiction, cs thinking it a disparagement to them to alter their c judgment. But our deceased friend was so wise, 65 as to be willing to learn to the last, knowing that

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26 no man can grow wiser without some change of « his mind, without gaining some knowledge which « he had not, or correcting some error, which he as had before. He had attained so perfect a maste« sy of his passions, that for the latter and greatest &c part of his life he was hardly ever seen to be s transported with anger, and as he was extremely « çareful not to provoke any man, fo not to be pro«s voked by any ; using to fay, if I provoke a man, « he is the worse for my company, and if I fuffer “ myself to be provoked by him I shall be the worse os for his. He very seldom reproyed any perfon in 66 company otherwise than by silence or fome fign 66 of uneasiness, or fome very foft and gentle word; « which yet from the respect men generally bore

to him, did often prove effectual. For he under6 stood human nature very well, and how to apply « himself to it in the most easy and effectual ways. « He was a great encourager and kind director of or young divines, and one of the most candid hear« ers of fermons, I think, that ever was ; fo that 6 though all men did mightily reverence his judgo ment, yet no man had reason to fear his censure. “ He never spake well of himself, nor ill of others, s making good that saying of Panfa in Tully, Ne«« minem alterius, qui fuæ confideret virtuti, invidere ; " that no man is apt to envy the worth and vir6c tues of another, that hath any of his own to trust os to. In a word, he had all those virtues, and in a « high degree, which an excellent temper, great « condefcension, long care and watchfulness over « himself, together with the assistance of God's

grace (which he continually implored and migh66 tily relied upon) are apt to produce. Particular“ ly he excelled in the virtues of conversation, hu“ manity and gentleness, and humility, a prudent e and peaceable, and reconciling temper. As he

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