He never had any emulation for fame, or contention for profit with any man. When he was in business, he suffered others' importunities with much easiness : when he was out of it, he was never importunate himself. His modesty and humility were so great, that, if he had not had many other equal virtues, they might have been thought dissimulation.

His conversation was certainly of the most excellent kind; for it was such as was rather admired by his familiar friends, than by strangers at first sight. He surprised no man at first with any extraordinary appearance: he never thrust himself violently into the good opinion of his company. He was content to be known by leisure and by degrees and so the esteem, that was conceived of him, was better grounded and more lasting.

In his speech neither the pleasantness excluded gravity, nor was the sobriety of it inconsistent with delight. No man parted willingly from his discourse: for he so ordered it, that every man was satisfied that he had his share. He governed his passions with great moderation. His virtues were never troublesome or uneasy to any. Whatever he disliked in others, he only corrected it by the silent reproof of a better practice.

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His wit was so tempered, that no man had ever reason to wish it had been less; he prevented other men's severity upon it, by his own: he never willingly recited any of his writings. None but his

intimate friends ever discovered he was a great poet, by his discourse. His learning was large and profound, well composed of all ancient and modern knowledge. But it sat exceeding close and handsomely upon him it was not embossed on his mind, but enamelled.

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He never guided his life by the whispers or opinions of the world yet he had a great reverence for a good reputation. He hearkened to fame, when it was a just censurer: but not when an extravagant babbler. He was a passionate lover of liberty and freedom from restraint, both in actions and words: but what honesty others receive from the direction of laws, he had by native inclination; and he was not beholding to other men's wills, but to his own, for his innocence.

He performed all his natural and civil duties with admirable tenderness. Having been born after his father's death, and bred up under the discipline of his mother, he gratefully acknowledged her care of his education to her death, which was in the eightieth year of her age. For his three brothers, he always maintained a constant affection. And having survived the two first, he made the third his heir. In his long dependance on my Lord St. Albans, there never happened any manner of difference between them: except a little at last, because he would leave his service; which only shewed the innocence of the servant, and the kindness of the master His friendships were

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inviolable. The same men with whom he was familiar in his youth, were his nearest acquaintance at the day of his death. If the private course of his last years made him contract his conversation to a few, yet he only withdrew, not broke off, from any of the others.

His thoughts were never above nor below his condition. He never wished his estate much larger. Yet he enjoyed what he had with all innocent freedom; he never made his present life uncomfortable, by undue expectations of future things. Whatever disappointments he met with, they only made him understand fortune better, not repine at her the more his Muse indeed once complained, but never his mind. He was accomplished with all manner of abilities for the greatest business; if he would but have thought so himself.

If any thing ought to have been changed in his temper and disposition, it was his earnest affection for obscurity and retirement. This, Sir, give me leave to condemn, even to you, who I know agreed with him in the same humour. I acknowledge he chose that state of life, not out of any poetical rapture, but upon a steady and sober experience of human things. But, however, I cannot applaud it in him. It is certainly a great disparagement to virtue, and learning itself, that those very things which only make men useful in the world, should incline them to leave it. This ought never to be allowed to good

men, unless the bad had the same moderation, and were willing to follow them into the wilderness. But, if the one shall contend to get out of employment, while the other strive to get into it, the affairs of mankind are like to be in so ill a posture, that even the good men themselves will hardly be able to enjoy their very retreats in security.

Yet, I confess, if any deserved to have this privilege, it ought to have been granted to him, as soon as any man living, upon consideration of the manner in which he spent the liberty that he got. For he withdrew himself out of the crowd, with desires of enlightening and instructing the minds of those that remained in it. It was his resolution in that station to search into the secrets of divine and human knowledge, and to communicate what he should observe. He always professed, that he went out of the world, as it was man's, into the same world, as it was nature's, and as it was God's. The whole compass of the creation, and all the wonderful effects of the divine wisdom, were the constant prospect of his senses and his thoughts. And indeed he entered with great advantage on the studies of nature, even as the first great men of antiquity did, who were generally both poets and philosophers. He betook himself to its contemplation, as well furnished with sound judgment, and diligent observation, and good method to discover its mysteries, as with abilities to set it forth in all its ornaments.

This labour about natural science was the perpetual and uninterrupted task of that obscure part of his life. Besides this, we had persuaded him to look back into his former studies, and to publish a discourse concerning style. In this he had designed to give an account of the proper sorts of writing, that were fit for all manner of arguments, to compare the perfections and imperfections of the authors of antiquity with those of this present age, and to deduce all down to the particular use of the English genius and language. This subject he was very fit to perform : it being most proper for him to be the judge, who had been the best practiser. But he scarce lived to draw the first lines of it. All the foot-steps that I can find remaining of it,

are only some indigested And now

characters of ancient and modern authors.

for the future, I almost despair ever to see it well accomplished, unless you, Sir, would give me leave to name the man that should undertake it.

But his last and principal design, was that which ought to be the principal to every wise man; the establishing his mind in the faith he professed. He was in his practice exactly obedient to the use and precepts of our church. Nor was he inclined to any uncertainty and doubt, as abhorring all contention in indifferent things, and much more in sacred. But he beheld the divisions of Christendom: he saw how many controversies had been introduced by zeal or ignorance, and continued by faction. He had there