The works of the pious and profoundly-learned Joseph Mede, B.D., sometime fellow of Christ's Colledge in Cambridge

Some Additionals to Mr. Mede's LIFE, by One who had the Honour and Happiness to be intimately known to him many years.

UNderstanding what rich Materials are prepared for Mr. Mede's Life, and into what accurate Hands they are come for the Composure; I can never give my consent that these course and ragged Papers be admitted otherwise than Post-script wise, or as a Godicill (which may pass through any ordinary hand) an∣nexed to an exactly-penn'd Testament: yet so, as that the one may justly pretend to the same Veracity and Authentickness with that of the other.

Upon this condition I proceed, and in this Order, contriving what I have to say into certain distinct Particularities: Which I humbly conceive will be less unac∣ceptable to the Reader.

As for the purpose,

1. Remarkables concerning Mr. Mede's Election into his Fellowship, together with the Occasion of his devoting the Tenth of his Estate to Pious uses.

MR. Mede had now continued in the University until after he took the Degree of Master of Arts, and had already received some strange Preteritions at Electi∣ons, Dr. Carey, (after Bishop of Exceter) the then Head of the Colledge, enter∣taining a very causeless Iealousie of him, that he looked too much towards Geneva. About this time a worthy Gentleman in the North earnestly invited him to live with him, and upon very handsome Terms. Yet Mr. Mede took time to consider of it. It was then Sturbridge-Fair, and there in a Stationer's shop Mr. Mede lighted on a Book of Mathematicks which he had great use of, and had long thirsted after. The lowest price was 50^s. He thought the Book worth the money: But the great Question was, Whether the taking so much Money out of his Purse would not be as the taking away too much Bloud from an extraordinary weak Body. Hereupon he, retiring into a private walk hard by, entered into a serious Consultation with himself what he should do; whether he should buy the Book and leave the University, (embracing the Gentle∣man's noble Proposal) or else whether he should leave the Book and continue there longer. For his slender Income would not allow him to enjoy both Conveniences toge∣ther, nor could have possibly afforded his Continuance in the Colledge so long, had it not met with the great felicity of so Frugal and Prudent a Manager of it as himself was. Whilest he was busily pondering and weighing Conveniencies and Inconveniencies, one against another, on both sides, who should accidentally pass by but that Excellent Per∣son and his very dear Friend, Sir William Boswell, then Fellow of Iesus Colledge, and a rare Ornament to the whole University? He, perceiving who it was that walked there in such a deep study, drew near to him, closed with him, and (as he mought well do it) demanded the Reason of that his solicitous Thoughtfulness. Mr. Mede, glad of the Op∣portunity, readily disclosed all to him. Mr. Boswell (that was his Title then) at first encouraged him to accept of the Gentleman's Propositions, who himself knew to be a Worthy Person, Noble, Ingenuous, Learned, and Master of a well-furnished Library: alleging farther, that the good Leisure, the good Conversation, the now good Compe∣tency, (that honest Salary being twisted with what he had of his own) and other good Accommodations he should there enjoy, would enable him to do the Church and Com∣monwealth of Learning more service with his Pen, than perhaps his Impediment of Speech would suffer him to do in the Pulpit. Mr. Mede easily consenting to the Ad∣vice of so great and good a Friend, parted from him with a Resolution to go that way. He was not gone many steps, when Mr. Boswell called him back again; But, Ioseph, (saith he) it is great pity though that thou shouldst leave us for want of a Book: Lo, here is all my stock at present, (shewing him 5 pieces;) but come, we will divide, Go and buy the Book. Mr. Mede began modestly to refuse this Courtesie, as too great to be received, and objected, How shall I be able to be solvent in convenient time? Mr. Boswell as impor∣tunately forced it upon him with these friendly words, I pray thee take no care of re∣payment;

let that be when thou canst, or in what small parcels thou wilt, or whether it be ever or never, it will be all one to me. And so Mr. Mede is possessed of his Book, and become a Continuer again.

Within a short time after, the Colledge had privy notice of a Stranger who had got a Mandamus for a Fellowship, either Fallen or Falling. This news hastened them to a preventing Election; and now the Master is contented to hear of Mr. Mede. He is cho∣sen, but conditionally and provisionally, that if the Mandamus be not diverted and shall be over-powerfully urged, he must recede. Mr. Mede therefore maturely makes his Applications to that Great both Oracle of Learning and Protector of Learned men, the thrice Renowned L. B. Andrews; by whose propitious Assistence he is now confirmed Fellow of that Colledge to which he owed his Education, and for which he had so Filial a Dearness. This Signal Providence and Goodness of Almighty God Mr. Mede was so piously sensible of, that he solemnly vowed (and as Religiously kept that Vow) to lay aside every Tenth shilling he should ever receive in the Colledge, and to dedicate it to Pious uses. This Story (to me not inconsiderable) left so deep an Impression in me, that I am able to warrant not only the Substance, but even almost every Circumstance of it, as I have related it. And as to the Interlocutory part, I verily believe I scarce vary in a word, as I received it (and all the rest) immediately from the lips of that Miracle of Worth, (whether as a Scholar, or a Statesman, or a Friend, or a Patriot, or a Chri∣stian) Sir William Boswell, whiles he was Ambassadour Resident in the Nether-lands.

As concerning this strange Vow, I had heard of it accidentally in Mr. Mede's life∣time, and once I took the freedom to ask him about it. He startled at it, that I should come to the knowledge of it; and, after a pause, he only said this, I charge you as a Friend to keep it to your self; which I faithfully did, till after his death.

And now, if the Reader will not think his Patience too much imposed upon, I could furnish him with another like Instance, and that out of Mr. Mede's own Colledge, one who was Contemporary with Mr. Mede, (but a long and early Discontinuer) and one, I think, not unknown to him; I am sure, a great Admirer of him. And this was Mr. William Whately, sometime Vicar of Banbury, that famous and perfect Preacher, and that not only ad Populum, as some great Wits have liberally acknowledged, who would often slip out of Oxford on purpose to hear him, and came at first with prejudice enough. This Rare Preacher (and therefore the Rarer because so Frequent) had in his Pulpit (upon a Holy-day, when there was a very full Auditory) with great Zeal, and with as great Solidity of Reason and Embroidery of Rhetorick, pressed (as his Theme led him) Works of Charity. Among other passages he exhorted his Hearers to make this Experi∣ment; When they had received good gain by Traffick or Bargain, &c. to take 6^d or 4^d in the Pound, and put it in a Purse by it self, for works of Piety. This (he warranted) as it would be very beneficial to their Estate, so it would take away all secret Grudgings: For now they had lay'd so much aside for such a purpose, they would rather wish for an Opportunity of disbursing it, &c.

After Sermon, being visited by a neighbour-Divine, (and one allied to him) they presently fell into discourse about that Subject, and Mr. Whateley's Iudgment was desired more particularly concerning the Quotapars to be so devoted. As for that (saith he) I am not to prescribe to others; but since here are none but very good friends, and we are all so pri∣vate, I will tell you what hath been my own practice of late, and upon what occasion. You know, Sir, some years since I was often beholden to you for the Lone of 10•• at a time: The truth is, I could not bring the year about, though my Receipts were not despicable, and I was not at all conscious to my self of any vain Expences or of Improvidence. At length I began to examine my Family what Relief was given to the Poor: And although I was assured that was not done niggardly, yet I could not be so satisfied, but resolved instantly to lay aside every Tenth shilling of all my Receipts for Charitable uses. And (to let you see how well I have thrived this way in a short time) now, if you have occasion to use an 100•• or more, I have it ready for you. Iust Mr. Mede's Method, and with a like prosperous Success. This I can avouch, for I was present both at the Sermon and at the Conference.

Neither do I conceive I have been wandering far from Mr. Mede all this while; these two Persons meeting so near in so many Respects: Both of them of the same House in the University; both Contemporaries; both Eminent, though in far distant ways; both inviolably kept their Principles of Loyalty to their Prince and Obedi∣ence to their Mother the Church; both suffered injuriously; some (when time was) made themselves too (Poetically) merry with Mr. Whately's Name; both met in the same practice of Charity, for which chiefly the latter was instanced in; lastly, both of them were peaceably and honourably Interred a little before the late unnatural War.

I do not ask the Reader's Pardon for this seeming Impertinency, because I rather expect his Thanks for helping him to so rare a Project how he may no less certainly than Piously improve his Estate, if he please to make due Trial of it. Howsoever, I shall make him amends, as to Brevity, in the ensuing Particularities. Whereof the next is

2. Concerning Mr. Mede's Communicativeness.

AS to be Communicative of Good is a Royalty and Beam of Glory even in the Divine Majesty itself: so upon what Person soever this shall be more or less shed and diffused, it must needs render him proportionably God-like. Now that such a Quality was eminently conspicuous in this divine Person is altogether as unquestio∣nable as Whether there ever was such a Man as Mr. Ioseph Mede.

I shall not instance in his Writings, wherewith he hath blest the world; concerning which (I speak of those few then extant) (if the commending of them would not be but as the Gilding of Gold and the Painting of Rubies) I could give you the opinion of* 1.1 one (among many others) who was Master of as great a Treasure of choice Learning, and of as curious a Pen and Tongue, as few Ages have seen; which he hath often expressed to me in these words, I never in all my life met with such a Vseful Critick as Mr. Mede, with many other Encomiums.

That I have now to speak to is his Communicativeness in ordinary Discourse. And this indeed he made the main of his Divertisement and Recreation. I never heard he used any other, unless it were in and upon the Fellows Orchard; the Beautifying whereof he took great delight in, and towards that he would not only lend his handsome and happy Contrivances, but also disburse Money before-hand, till the Colledge-Audit. Here he hath been found very busie (at due hours) and sometimes knuckle-deep, when he would say smiling, Why? this was Adam's work in his Innocency. But then, instantly, taking for his Theme either a Plant or a Weed, or almost any thing next hand, he would fall into some very significant discourse. All his Discourses (to speak it once for all) were extremely distant from any thing that looked like either Levity, or Vanity, or Paedantry.

These Charitable works of his Tongue, (for so I call Mr. Mede's Discourses) as well as those other of his Hand, proved no less Gainful to himself than they were Beneficial to others. A double Gain, he hath often acknowledged, came in to him this way.

One, That his Notions, by often Repeating them, became more fixed and rivetted in his Memory: And therefore he would merrily say to a Familiar, whose Studies lay quite another way, (and in that kind of Learning was confessedly incomparable and unmatchable) when he seemed not so attentive to some of his Discourses, Chuse (saith he) whether you will hear me or no; I love to repeat what I have been gathering, though it be but to the Walls, for my own Memorie's sake.

The other Gain was, That hereby his Notions were better shaped and formed, and so more accommodated to use. For (said he) every time I am imparting them to others, it is great odds but some fitter and clearer Expression will casually come out of my Mouth than at first came into my Mind. So that his Notions always lay by him ready, in good Currant Coin, whiles others (who too much affect the hoarding up) have theirs at the best but in the Barre and Ingot, and perhaps sometimes but in the Ore.

Wherefore I am apt to believe it was not a mere Complement of Mr. Mede's, when he thanked those for Hearing him, who thought they had a great deal more reason to thank him for his so Edifying them; because he knew his own Gains hereby were still multiplied.

When my Acquaintance with him was of that Standing as to take the Degree of one of his Familiars, he would treat and entertain me in this manner.

After some short prelusory talking of News and Occurrences, Come now, (saith he) what be your Questions? Which as I was never to come unprovided of, so was he al∣ways much more provided to resolve them to my unspeakable satisfaction. Yea more than that, (such was his Obligingness) he would sometimes fetch out of his Study di∣vers of his Colledge and Publick Exercises; and sometimes one peculiar Paper-book, wherein he was wont to write sundry knotty Questions and difficult Texts of Scripture, and under them set down in brief his present Conjectural thoughts, which afterwards (at better leisure) he would bring to the Test, and pursue with more accurateness. Pitch∣ing upon some of these, he hath done me the honour to promote me to be his Amanu∣ensis: And then first causing me to turn to Texts in the Hebrew Fountain and in

the LXX, he would Critically give the Importance of the words, and here drop many a rich Observation. That done, he would take down many of the Ancients, whether Church-Historians or Fathers, Greek and Latin, &c. and directing me to what places I should turn, make me read them to him: Upon which again he would, by the By, give out very considerable Notes; and still as he had done with each Author would say, You see it holds yet, and yet, &c. So at last, one of those Conjecturalls and What Ifs (as he call'd them) became an adopted Verity. And this he called Hunting of Notions. At this Sport, no less profitable than pleasant, we have, upon Fasting-days, continued from three after Mid-day until the knocking of the Colledge-gates at Night, and then he has dismissed me richly laden.

3. Of his Advice to young Students in Divinity.

TO those who intended Curam Animarum he would give, among many other, these Three Counsels.

1. That they familiarly acquaint themselves with and constantly make use of that Golden Observation of Is. Casaubon, viz. Vniversam Doctrinam Christianam Veteres disting••ebant in 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, idest, ea quae enunciari apud omnes poterant, & 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, arcana temere non vulganda. It is in his Exercit. XVI. ad Annal. Eccles. Which whole Exercitation he would commend to their often reading, and indeed the whole Book.

And here he would sadly complain, to the same effect, and almost in the same words, with the Admired Lord Verulam,

It is a Point of great Inconvenience and Perill, to entitle the People to hear Controversies and all kinds of Doctrine.* 1.2 They say no part of the Counsel of God is to be suppressed, nor the People defrauded: So as the Difference which the Apostle maketh between Milk and Strong Meat is con∣founded; and his Precept, That the weak be not admitted unto Questions and Con∣troversies, taketh no place.

Upon neglect of which sage Counsel we have lately seen those Dismal and Tragi∣cal Consequences, which Mr. Mede did indeed Prophetically presage would be there∣upon. And for the present he gave some Instances (but not without Indignation) of them who, under pretence of Revealing the whole Truth to the People, would make choice of strange Texts, in Leviticus and elsewhere, and out of them vent such Stuffe as no modest Ear could endure to hear.

2. His next Counsel was, That with other Practical Doctrines they should not for∣get to preach and press Charity: and this not in a slight perfunctory manner, but Stu∣diedly and Digestedly to give the People the true Nature of it, the full latitude of it, the absolute and indispensable Necessity of having it, (both Praecepti and Medii) and (as the* 1.3 L. Verulam hath express'd it)

to bring down Doctrines and Directions ad Casus Conscientiae; otherwise the Word, the Bread of Life, they will but toss up and down, and not break it.

3. His last Counsel was, When they had some Necessary Truths to deliver, against which the present Humour of the Times ran counter, that in this case they should go Socratically to work: as to lay down at a convenient distance, first one Postulatum, and then another (that will be clearly inferred from the former,) and so a third, and a fourth, &c. still depending upon and strengthning each other. A Truth brought in thus Backward (saith he) will be swallowed down unawares: Whereas if you first shew its Horns, there will be such startling and flinging, that there will be no coming near with it.

4. How far he was from Ambition.

FOR proof hereof we cannot desire a clearer Evidence or Demonstration then his so constant declining Preferments even then when they sought him out.

Witness his* 1.4 Answer to the Letter of the Fellows of Trinity Colledge near Dublin. And, by the way, that Election into that Provostship was so firm, as well as free, that he was desired to make a Formal Resignation before his* 1.5 Successor could be elected and admitted into it: which he did, as himself hath told me more than once.

Witness again his* 1.6 Third Letter to the then Lord Primate, what time some new hopes began to be raised of his acceptance of the same Provostship, upon the remove of Bishop Bedel.

To all this I can add two more Instances, which I believe are not known to many.

One, That divers years after the refusal of the Provostship, he received a Letter from a Friend in Ireland, assuring him there was then kept for him a Dignity worth at the least 1000•• per ann. and staied only for his acceptance. To persuade him to which, he used many potent arguments; among the rest this, The great freedom from molestations and in∣cumbrances that place would indulge him in, &c. This Letter he was pleased to commu∣nicate to my self, when freshly received, concealing indeed the Name subscribed, though that was not hard to guess at. But here again his Modesty proved inflexible.

The other Instance is this: When he newly related to his then Grace of Canterbury, and now glorious Martyr, (neither of whom, I believe, had seen each others face in all their lives, I am sure he told me so not long before his death) he desired me to tell him freely what I heard men say concerning his Chaplainship, &c. The sum of my Answer was, That I perceived he was looked upon as a Rising man, and that many rejoyced at it be∣cause of his known merits, &c. To the latter part of my Answer he replied, I am much beholden to my Friends for their good opinion of me, &c. But no man knows my Defects so well as my self. And this was but the native Language and Dialect of his innate Modesty. But when he came to reply to the former part, which spake him a Rising man, here he used more than ordinary Solemnity, and with a grave, composed countenance uttered these words; At to my Rising,—come now, I will make you my Confessor. I can safely ap∣peal to that Infinite Majes••y who hears me, (which words were accompanied with a ge∣sture of great Reverence) that if I might obtain but a Donative sine cura, (sine cura, he repe••ted it) which I may keep with my Fellowship, I would set up my staffe for this World. And the reason why I desire this is, that I mought be able to keep a Nag for my Recreation sometimes, in taking the air, and in visiting my friends in the Countrey, since this my Cor∣pulency (then growing upon him) makes me unwieldy for walking.

In pursuance of this discourse, I chanced to smile at a Conceit then coming into my mind; which he quickly observed, and was very earnest to know the reason of it. After a pardon obtained for my freedom, I thus declared; That I thought in one case he would be persuaded to accept of a Bishoprick for all this. Why think you so? rejoyned he suddenly, and with some warmth. Presuming upon the license granted me, I shall tell you, replied I, and, more than that, I believe you will acknowledge as much your self. At this he began to bungle at being angry, for indeed that Passion was so great a stranger to him and so little in favour with him that, unless it came in the company of (or rather attending upon) true Zeal to God-ward, he would not endure its presence.

In short, I remembred to him, how often I heard him wonder why none of our Christian Kings had ever erected a Bishoprick in S. Alban's, that Martyr being of such Fame and Antiquity, and the Place so many ways convenient, &c. And then I propounded this case:

That if our then present Sovereign (who afterwards, in spight of Hypocrisie and Treason, became indeed so Glorious a King, that of all Kings He was the First Martyr) should resolve upon an Erection of a Bishoprick at S. Alban's, upon this one only con∣dition, That Mr. Mede will be persuaded to be the First Bishop there, otherwise there shall be no Bishoprick at all; I ask whether, in this case Mr. Mede would not be willing to accept of a Bishoprick. Hereat he laughed heartily, and said at first, Now thou puttest me to it indeed. But by and by recollecting himself, he concluded gravely to this purpose: As there is no great fear of such a Temptation, rebus sic stantibus; so I dare re∣assume my former Protestation. A Donative sine cura with my Fellowship will confine the utmost of my Ambition in this life.* 1.7

5. Of his Zeal against Sacrilege.

WHich had been heightned to a superlative degree, yet in him of most men living would have been least to be wondered at and most to be justified; because few men of his (or any) Age could pretend to that absolute soveraignty over them∣selves, in point of Interest or ambitious Designs, which he had; and, because none was more punctual in paying his Homage and Rental to Almighty God than he was. But yet that his Zeal was according to knowledge, and guided with great Iudgment and Discretion, will manifestly appear unto all men who will but cast their eyes upon some of the Principles and Grounds he went upon. E. g.

1. That,* 1.8 according to the common Law of Nature, the great Land-lord of the whole World ought to receive Homages from his Tenants and Dependents.

This God claimed in Paradise itself, when Man was in the Zenith of his Perfection. For (would he say) the Prohibited Tree there was a Sacred and a Sacramental Tree.

Wherefore he was positive and dogmatical in determining that the Formalis ratio and specifical Nature of Original Sin was Sacrilege. Whereunto by the way he annexed this grave and serious Meditation: Adam was turned out of his Paradise for Sacrilege; and do we not frequently see many men turned out of their Paradises likewise (their fair Estates) for the very same sin?

This, again, hath been imprinted in the breasts of all Mankind, who naturally and universally have ever abhorred Sacrilege. Why then should Christians (said he) presume more upon their God in this case than others? why more than the Pagans, or Iews? Here he quoted that of Malachi 3. ver. 8. Will a man rob God? Durst ever any man entertain such a thought? And that of 1 Cor. 9. ver. 13, 14. See how dextrously he hath handled that Scripture in a set and just* 1.9 Diatribe. As also that, Rev. 5. ver. 12. in that New song, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive Power, and Riches, & Strength, &c. Lo here (said he) is mention of Riches due to the Lamb that was slain. But what need hath He of our Riches? True, no more than a great rich Land-lord hath need of a Pepper-corn. But yet, as it is an Homage, it is expected from the Tenant, and may not be neglected by him without the Forfeiture of the whole. And then for those who confidently deny Tithes to be due under the Gospel, they do not consider how in so saying they must deny also Christ to be a Priest for ever after the order of Melchizedek: For as Tithes were paid to Melchizedek long before Aaron; so are they due to Him who is a Priest after that Order, now after Aaron.

2. And this minds me of another of his Grounds, viz. God's so favourably dealing with Men in requiring but the Tenth; which is, in truth, (said he) the least part of our Goods, according to the first division. For as Ten is the Periodical number of things of a fixt and substantial nature; so when we proceed beyond Ten, we begin to make a new di∣vision; as Eleven is Ten and one, Twelve Ten and two, &c. Thus likewise God con∣tents himself with the least part of our Time, when he demands but the Seventh, as the number Seven is the Periodical number of Time, &c.

3. A third Ground was, That the chiefest things now dedicated to God are, for the most part, laden with a 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Here he related at large with what Solemnity many of those Ancient Deeds and Writings (specifying Goods and Lands devoted to the Service of God) were wont to be offered at the Altar; and what Vollies of all the hideous Curses imaginable, touching either Body, or Soul, or Estate, or Posterity, were enumerated in those Writings, and denounced against any who would offer to alienate them.

Upon this occasion he was wont to discourse very gravely How that, at the first Reformation in England, if the violent heat of seeming Zeal, but indeed of Interest, would have admitted so much of Consideration, those Church-Lands of Abbies, &c. mought have been most happily disposed of in some such manner.

If one Part had been allotted to the Advancement of Learning, and to the Augmenta∣tion of smaller Salaries for Cures, and to the Reparation and beautifying of Churches. Colledges, &c.

If another Part had been for Provision of Clergy-Mens Widows and Orphans: which God took special care of in the time of the Legal Priesthood, (the Sons being to inherit their Fathers places, and the Daughters to be matched as well as their Mothers before them) and which is not neglected by any of the Reformed Churches abroad.

If a third Part had been reserved for Bellum Sacrum, in the defence of Church and Kingdom.

By this means (pursued he) our Kings would not have needed such Subsidies, &c. from their Subjects, and the Church had kept her Patrimonie, and very many great Fa∣milies (who too greedily possess'd themselves of Church-lands) had not been totally ruined and extinct.

4. And this leads me to a Fourth Ground, which was the Series of Punishments which have constantly pursued this Sin.

It is to be observed (said he) that God did always set a special Mark of his Displea∣sure upon every one who durst First presume upon a notorious Sin, thereby to give Warning to all others. As, upon Cain the first Murtherer, upon Corah and his Complices who first moved a Sedition upon the point of Equality in the Priesthood, upon Absolom the first unnatural Rebel, &c. But now for this Sin of Sacrilege, as God began to pu∣nish it very early, even in Paradise itself, (ut suprà) so hath he continually pursued and hounded this Sin; as in Achan in the Old Testament, in Annanias and Sapphira in the New, that no man may pretend the Antiquateness of the Old Testament, &c. And in latter Ages, besides what the learned Pens of Sr. Henry Spelman and others have published, he had collected many rare Instances of his own private Observation, which upon prudential Considerations I forbear to recite.

And now after all this, Is it not admirable to consider, how strangely the seeming present Profit of this Sin doth infatuate men? That though they daily experiment these Truths, yet they will not be persuaded either from Venturing on the Sin, or from Continuing in it? What doth this but betray in Men the same Shortness and Shallow∣ness of Understanding that we see in Rooks and Martins and other silly Fowls, which will needs be building every year in those very places where they are sure to be di∣sturb'd, and endanger'd themselves, and to have their Nests demolished, and their Young destroyed; or if any chance to escape, yet they always lie at the mercy of every Pas∣senger?

6. Of his becoming Facetiousness.

THose his so grave, knotty and crabbed studies did not at all render him Sour or Morose, but in due Time and Place he knew how to be Pleasant and Facetious. To give the Reader a Tast of this, for Divertisement: By this time perhaps he will but need it, having tired himself with reading these dull and flat Narratives.

• 1. The Chamber he kept in was known to be a Ground-chamber just under the Colledge-Library. Partly for the benefit of that, (for the Library was his other Study and Closet) and partly for the conveniency of having no Students over him to disturb him by walking, &c. he continued there very many years. His Bed-chamber-window opened into the Street, and in the Summer-time, when the Evenings were clear and se∣rene, he would leave his Window open all night for fresh air. This was not long un-ob∣served by the Hooker, who once began to draw away his Bed-cloaths whiles he lay a∣wake. Nay, friend, (saith he) I pray thee stay till I am asleep, &c. with that the Hooker ran away, and he slept securely with his window still open. Not long after the same (or another of his Tribe) came again; and then he was asleep. But when the Fellow was plucking away the Cloaths, he soon awakened, and then said, Oh friend, if thou takest away my Bed-cloaths, (his wearing-cloaths he had secured well enough) I shall take cold, &c. And so he was rid of his Chapman again, and never heard more of him, though his windows were still continued un-shut. With which pretty Confidence of his he over∣came that of the Hookers, and made himself very merry with the story among his friends.
• ...

  2. In the Vacations he was wont to be invited into the Country by a Kinsman and a Knight. At his first coming thither, (being then a young Master of Arts) he in curi∣osity stood observing the Falconer feeding his Hawk, and in way of complaisance be∣gan to praise the Hawk: As first, What a brave sharp Bill she had. Bill? said the Falco∣ner, it is a Beak, Sir. By and by, What notable Claws she had. Claws, Sir? said he, they are Pounces. Anon he commended her fine Feathers? Feathers, Sir? they are Plumes. After that, her goodly Tail. Tail, Sir? it is a Train.

  Mr. Mede not a little abash'd that he should be thus mistaken all along in those Terms of Art, and believing the Falconer would expose him for his Ignorance to his fellow∣servants, he studied this innocent piece of Revenge: The Falconer, he saw, used to wait at Table, and therefore taking his time, three or four days after, when he thought the thing was quite forgotten, he sets them all at the Table on reading of Riddles. And when they were well in, he turning to the Falconer, asked him, Friend, What kind of Bird is that which hath neither Bill, nor Claw, nor Feathers, nor Tail? The Falconer was utterly posed, and stood mute. Why then (said Mr. Mede) I will tell you: It is your Hawk. That hath no Bill, but a Beak; no Claws, but Pounces; no Feathers, but Plumes; no Tail, but a Train, There was I even with him, would he say triumphingly.

• ...

  3. Such Fellow-commoners who came to the University only to see it and to be seen in it, he call'd The Vniversity-Tulips, that made a Gaudy shew for a while, &c.

  To these might be added many more; whereof some perhaps would tast a little too salt to some, but all of them would relish well enough to younger Palats.

  But I must remember the Gravity of the Person I am speaking of, and whiles I am upon this pleasant Argument, shall endeavour to imitate his Practice which was, to make his Facetiousness always usher in something that was Serious. To the next then.

7. Some of his handsome and serious sayings.

SO I call them rather than Apophthegms, though some of them may possibly lay claim to that Title.

• 1. It was often in his Mouth, Over-doing always undoes; very applicable many ways.
• ...

• 2. To that stale triumphing Demand of the Romanists, Where was your Church be∣fore Luther? he answered with another Question,* 1.10 Where was the fine Flour when the Wheat went to the Mill?
• 3. Where there is Siding and Studium partium, the prevailing Party always makes the other complain:

  Iust as it is at the great Crowding in the Commencement-House when an extraordinary Praevaricator comes up; the Crowdsways sometimes on one side, then they that are crushed to the walls cry out, Oh, Oh, and being sensible of the pain, they set their feet against the walls, and with their backs and all their strength cause the Press to turn as much to the other side; and then these cry out as fast, oh, oh, as the other did before: and so alternis vicibus.

• 4. To that old Complaint, (now newly dressed up and followed with such noises and Hubbubs) Is it not great pity that men should be silenced and laid aside only for their not Subscribing? his answer was, So it is great pity that some goodly fair Houses in the v••idst of a populous City should take fire, and therefore must of necessity be pulled down, un∣less you will s••ffer the whole Town to be on a flame and consume to ashes.
• 5. That which followeth cannot properly be called a Saying, but rather a Dis∣course, resembling a rich Iewell made up of divers costly Gemms.

After he had been speaking very Iudiciously and very Piously what great reason we all had to pray earnestly for our Governours in the Church, That God would di∣rect and assist them, as in many other things, so in this, viz. in their Choice of or Re∣commending Persons to those Dignities in the Church which do ipso facto make them Convocation-men; Because (said he) as the Convocation is properly the Clergie's Parlia∣ment, so such Men are the lasting Members of that House, and therefore a special care to be had that they be well qualified; not only of good Learning and good Life, but of good Experience, good Temper, and of good Repute with the Gentry. This last he added, and gave good reasons why, and then proceeded, Although it is possible, yea very probable, that some who sit high in the Church, enjoying the benign Aspect and happy Influence of a Good and Gracious Prince, may very much advantage and advance the Church in other re∣spects; yet, without a great regard had of sit Convocation-men, all the rest will be but as building high without Buttresses, and it may suddenly tumble down again.

8. What opinion Strangers had of Mr. Mede and of some others of our Country-men; with a modest Advertisement.

FOrein Testimonials are held to be the more considerable, because they are suppo∣sed to be less partial, as proceeding rather from right Iudgment than from any by∣assed Affection. I shall not here repeat any thing out of Sir William Boswell's Letters, or out of those of Lud. de Dieu and of others; but I shall tell you what I have recei∣ved from the mouths of some Grandees in Repub. Literaria. They pronounced him not only

a most Iudicious and Profound Divine, but a Person Eminent in almost all variety of choicest Learning, besides Languages. And therefore they did not doubt to rank him with the Lord Verulam and with Mr. Thomas Lydiat.

To which three Persons (I speak still of men of great variety of Learning; for otherwise they had an exceeding high Veneration for very many of our Divines, and for others of other Fa∣culties: but to these three) they gave such a Preeminency as was given to David's three first Captains in the List of his Worthies.

Here I cannot conceal what dropp'd from one of their mouths, because I wish good use may be made of it at home.

Inquiring what Fortunes these men had, and understanding they were but ordina∣ry, especially that of Mr. Lydiat; he burst out into this speech, You in England de∣serve not to have such Brave men among you, since you make no more of them.

That his Zeal for good Worth had been the more excusable, had it not exceeded so much as not to suffer his Iudgment to consider what afterwards he was minded of.

• 1. That the L. Verulam was advanced to as high a Place in the State as a Subject is capable of: but how he lost his footing, no ingenuous man is willing to remember.
• 2. That some men, who are very Bookish and Studious, usually prefer their Lei∣sure and Liberty before all Preferments whatsoever. Which was Mr. Mede's and Mr. Lydiat's case. The former of whom mought have been much higher than he was, if he had pleased* 1.11; and was as high as he desired to be, had he lived to get but a Do∣native to his Fellowship. And in that his Condition (such as it was) he thrived so well, as to become a considerable Benefactor to his Colledge.
• ...

• 3. But now concerning Mr. Lydiat, (for whose sake chiefly that smart speech was uttered) here the Difficulty rises higher and grows more perplex'd.

His great Worth hath been celebrated enough by those his rare Pieces now extant. In his many Chronological Disquisitions he conflicted, as with Christoph. Clavius, and with the whole Colledge of Romish Mathematicians, so with that great Goliah of Lite∣rature, Ioseph Scaliger, whom yet he so manifestly worsted, as to make him forsake his Weapon, and to betake himself unmanly to his Tongue. When the news of his Death came beyond Sea, I knew a certain great Mecaenas and Patron of Learning there, whose Industry travelled very much to collect what of his Papers might be had, and to that end employed divers, (among the rest my self,) with a Resolution to have them fairly and faithfully printed at his own charges. But they were not to be retrieved.

Now let us see what Favours and Encouragements were afforded to a Person of so great Merits.

It is true, Prince Henry, of Famous and Glorious Memory, took so much notice of him, as to receive him into His Service, and to have him read to Him. Here questionless he had found a very Bountiful and Royal Master, had not that Peer∣less Prince been cropt just in his Bloom and Blossome. But now, alas! Mr. Lydiat's Hopes saw their own Funeral in that of his Royal Master's. Wherefore retiring into a small obscure Living at Alkerton in the Edge and Fringe of Oxfordshire, there he so∣laced himself in his private Study, until, being unhappily engaged for the Debts of one nearly allied to him, he was thrown into Prison, where he lay a long time. At length, partly by the assistance of Sir William Boswell, (never to be named without very great Honour) and partly by the helps of the excellent Dr. Pinke, (that most worthy Warden of New-Colledge, whereof Mr. Lydiat had been sometime Fellow, as I have heard) and by the noble bounty of some other Friends of that University, he was restored to his Liberty, and returned to his little Living, wherein (maugre all the Disasters he had felt before, and all that salvage usage he after suffered for his Loyalty in the late Troubles) he left behind him at his Death a very neat and substan∣tial Parsonage-house, with Barns and Stables, Garden and Orchard sutable, all which he built and raised from the ground, as also a new Chancel (of his own building like∣wise,) wherein he lies buried, as in his own proper Tomb and Monument.

But to say the Truth, when all is said that can be said, It were heartily to be wished

That Publick Spirits would come up a little thicker in the World. It was a memorable Passage of an Italian Ambassador here in England, who, having taken his leave, and being now under sail homeward, stood upon the Deck, and looked wistly towards our Country as long as he could well discern it, and then for a Vale uttered these words, O troppo selice Isola, &c. O too happy Island, if thou hadst but some more Publick Souls in thee. This I have heard frequently repeated, and most feelingly, by as great a States-man, and as good a Commonwealths-man, and as sound a Christian, as our Nation hath bred in many Ages.* 1.12.

It were to be wished again, That there were not too much of Truth in a speech that fell from a through-Scholar and Divine,—Many (by their fine Arts and Me∣thods) get into Preferments, whiles Scholars (of good deserts) are hard at their Studies. It was not the least Ruby or Diamond in that fair Brooch stuck upon the Memory of the ever-Blessed B. Andrews,* 1.13 That he sent for men of Note that he thought wanted Pre∣ferment, and gave them Prebends and Benefices under Seal before they knew of it; as to Mr. Boys, Mr. Fuller, &c. And I can never forget with what a Gusto that Brave Sir William Boswell was wont to relate this (among the infinite more observable Pas∣sages) in the Happy Reign of Q. Elizabeth, That she gave a strict Charge and Com∣mand to both the Chancellors of both Her Vniversities, to bring Her a Iust, True and Im∣par••ial List of all the Eminent and Hopeful Students (that were Graduates) in each Vni∣versity, to set down punctually their Names, their Colledges, their Standings, their Facul∣ties wherein they did eminere, or were likely so to do. Therein Her Majesty was exactly obeyed, the Chancellors durst not do otherwise: and the use She made of it was, That if She had an Ambassador to send abroad, then She of Her self would nominate such a Man of such an House to be his Chaplain, and another of another House to be his Secretary, &c. When She had any places to dispose of, fit for Persons of an

Academical Education, She would Her self consign such Persons as She judged to be pares Nego••iis. Sir William had gotten the very individual Papers wherein these Names were listed, and marked with the Queen's own hand, which he carefully laid up among his 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉. Now (as Sir William pursued) this could not be long con∣cealed from the young Students, and then it is easie to be imagined (or rather it is not to be imagined) how this Consideration, that their Sovereign's Eye was upon them, (and so Propitious upon the Deserving among them) how this, I say, would switch and spur on their Industries.

I end these Additionals to Mr. Mede's Character with that plain ordinary Vote, wherein yet, I believe, I shall have very many joyn with me,

Sic mihi contingat vivere, sicque mori!

God grant we may all in some proportion live as humbly, as faithfully, as fruitfully and Christianly, and then die as peaceably and comfortably as he did.

Amen.

THE END.

If any one should scruple my Fidelity in relating some speeches of Mr. Mede's, because spoken so many years since; he may please to satisfie himself with this, That it was my Custom, presently when I went from Mr. Mede's Chamber, to set down in writing what I conceived observable: which writings I have yet by me, and consulted with them in these my Narratives.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Dr. Steward late Dean of the Royal Chappel, &c.
• * 1.2

  In his Adver∣tisements tou∣ching the Con∣trovers•• of the Church of Eng∣land.
• * 1.3

  Ibid.
• * 1.4

  See Book 4. Epist. 2.
• * 1.5

  Mr. Bedel, afterwards B, of Kilmore.
• * 1.6

  See Book 4. Epist. 29.
• * 1.7

  Then Clouds began to ga∣ther in the North.
• * 1.8

  See his Dis∣course upon Acts 5. 3, 4.
• * 1.9

  See Book 1. Discourse 21.
• * 1.10

  And some∣times thus, Where was the Meal before the Corn was ground?
• * 1.11

  Of the pre∣ferment in Ireland that was offer'd him, Vide su∣pr••,
• * 1.12

  The thrice Renowned Sir Thomas Row••, who, after so many Ambassages to almost all the Princes and States in Christendom, and to the greatest Emperors beyond Christendom, (all which were managed with admirable Dexterity and Success and Satisfaction) was last of all Ambassador extraordinary to Ferdinand III. Emperor of Germany, who gave him this Character, I have met with many Gallant Persons of many Nations, but I s••arce ever met with an Ambassador till now.
• * 1.13

  See the Fu∣neral Sermon, &c.