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ii “ did not only give his consent (without which the “ 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 " likewise incur no small censure and hazard as the 66 times then were. And left this had not been kind “ ness enough to that worthy person, whose place " he possefied, in his last will, he left his son, Sir
John Collins, a legacy of one hundred pounds. And as he was not wanting either in respect or - real kindness to the rightful owner ; so neither “ did he stoop to do any thing unworthy, to obtain " that place, for he never took the covenant. And “ not only so, but, by the particular friendship and 66 interest which he had in some of the chief vifi“tors, he prevailed to have the greatest part of the « fellows of that college exempted from that im“ position, and preserved them in their places by 66 that means.
And to the fellows that were ejec“ ted by the visitors, he likewise freely consented, " that their full dividend for that year should be
paid them ; even after they were ejected. Among -65 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 “ knowing him to be a worthy man, was contented
to run the hazard of the displeasure of those times. “ So that I hope none will be hard upon him, that “ he was contented upon such terms to be in a ca“ pacity to do good in bad times.” Besides his care of the college, he had a very great and good influence 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 sumber, not only of the young scholars, but of those of greater standing and best repute for learning in
the university, his.constant and attentive auditors ; and in thofe 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 Angliæ Scotiæ & Hiberniæ protectoris ;. hæc de Richardi successione
feliciffimâ ad eundem. Gambridge, 1658, in 4to. Dr. Whichcote's verses are as follow.
Non male mutati mores & lenior ætas ;
Annos usque expirat, et alta in pace quiescit. . Filius afcendit fimilis gratusque Britannis,
Quæque Deum fapiunt fcit pectora flectere lente.
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 reti red to a donative which he had at Milton near Cambridge, 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 staid 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 considerable 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 diftemper, which in a few days put a period to his life. He died with uncommon sentiments of piety and devotion. He expreffed great dislike of the principles of feparation, and said, that he was the more desirous to receive the facrament, 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
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 fewry, his funeral sermon being preached by Dr. John Tillotson, 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 « whole life was one continued tesțimony. 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 dir“ position, (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 pe
remptory : fo far from impofing upon others that " he was rather apt to yield. And though he had a “ most profound and well poised judgment, yet he
was of all men I ever knew, the most patient to “ hear others differ from him, and the most easy to “ be convinced when good reason was offered ; « and which is seldom feen, more apt to be favour" 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 “ settled their judgments in most points, and as it « were, made their last understanding ; fuppofing " that they have thought, or read, or heard, what
can be said on all sides of things, and after that they
grow positive, and impatient of contradiction, " thinking it a disparagement to them to alter their “ judgment. But our deceased friend was so wise, " as to be willing to learn to the last, knowing that
no man can grow wiser without some change of « his mind, without gaining some knowledgewhich as he had not, or correcting fome error, which he s had before. He had attained fo perfect a masteРу
of his passions, that for the latter and greatest part of his life he was hardly ever seen to be « tranfported with anger, and as he was extremely « careful not to provoke any man, so not to be pro66. voked by any ; using to say, if I provoke a man, as he is the worse for my company ; and if I suffer « myself to be provoked by him I shall be the worse « for his. He very feldom reproved any person in
company otherwise than by filence or fome fign « of uneasiness, or fome very soft and gentle word; 3 « which yet from the respect men generally bore « to him, did often prove effectuak For he under4 stood human nature very well, and how to apply us himsèlf to it in the most easy and effectual ways. ** He was a great encourager and kind director of
young divines, and one of the most candid hearers of fermons, I think, that ever was ; fo that though all men did mightily reverence his judga
ment, yet no man had reafon to fear his cenfure. “ He never fpake well of himself, nor ill of others, es making good that saying of Panfa in Tully, Nesi minem alterius, qui fuæ confideret virtuti, invidere ; « that no man is apt to envy the worth and vir« tues of another, that hath any of his own to trust
In a word, he had all those virtues, and in a « high degree, which an excellent temper, great 6 condescension, long care and watchfulness over és himself, together with the assistance of God's
grace (which he continually implored and migh"stily relied upon) are apt to produce. Particular« ly he excelled in the virtues of conversation, hu« manity and gentleness, and humility, a prudent «5 and peaceable, and reconciling temper.