The virgins pattern, in the exemplary life and lamented death of Mrs. Susanna Perwich, daughter of Mr. Robert Perwich, who departed this life ... July 3, 1661 published at the earn[est] request of divers that knew her well, for the use and benefit of others / by John Batchiler, a neer relation ...

The exemplary Iafe, and lamented Death of Mistris Susanna Per∣wich, Daughter of Robert Per∣wich, of Hackney, in the County of Middlesex, Gent. who dyed a rarely accomplish'd Virgin, at one of the clock in the afternoon, on Wednes∣day, the 3. of July, 1661. in the 25. year of her Age.

SHE was born upon the 23. day of Sept. in the year of our Lord, 1636. in the Parish of Alderman∣bury, London; where, having by the care and cost of her Pa∣••ents been sent to School to learn to read ••s soon as capable thereof;* 1.1 this was remark∣able in her at that tender age, that she ••ould needs learn by hearing and obser∣ving

others rather than by the teaching o•• her Mistris, taking a delight it seems t•• get her learning altogether by her own in∣dustry; yea, so impatient she was of bein•• instructed by any, that she would altoge∣ther refuse their help, and yet rested no•• till she had attained to an ability of read∣ing Scripture, full as well and as distinctly as any of her elder Sisters; an argumen•• of such Pregnancy and Ingenuity, as is no•• ordinary in young children.

When she was seven years and a hal•• old, her Father removing his dwelling to his School at Hackney, where now he live•• She among the rest of his Children,* 1.2 had the advantage of a choice breeding there, and in short time made no small Progress in it, especially in the grounds of Musick; for at fourteen years and a half old, She was able to play in Consort, at the first sight upon the treble Viol, and this with so much skill, ease, and sweetness, that She gave no ordinary hopes of proving a very rare Mu∣sician. Indeed such an harmonious soul She had, and a genious so exceeding tractable to all sorts of Musick,* 1.3 that one of her Ma∣sters (Mr. Ives hy name) was wont to say he could play no new Lesson before her, but She would have it presently: insomuch that not himself only, but divers others

her Instructers in that Art, were not a ••••tle proud of her.

The first that grounded her in the notes 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Musick, and enabled her to play so ex∣••llently on the treble Viol, was Mr. Tho∣••as Flood, who falling sick, and continuing 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a long time, it occasioned her Father 〈◊〉〈◊〉 make choice of a new Master (Mr. Wil∣••am Gregory by name) who being eminent∣•••• skilful at the Lyra Viol, did very much ••••tter the making and forming of her ••and,* 1.4 and was the first that gave her that ••re delicious stroke, which afterwards be∣••me so singularly peculiar to her self. He so taught her all varieties of rare turn∣••••gs. That which made her so expert, both 〈◊〉〈◊〉 her own play, and in judging of others ••hen She heard them, was her most cu∣••••ous ear, seldom equalled by any, the very ••st Masters in that Art. Divers Books ••he read of excellent composure, and under∣••••ood them well; nor cared She for any Les∣••••ns but what were very choice; but her ••hief delight was in divisions upon grounds 〈◊〉〈◊〉 which She had the best that England ••••uld afford.

Her principal Master at the Viol, for the ••••st seven years, was Mr. Stephen Bing, a ••••rviving witness of her admirable abili∣••••es, which in great part (to his honour

be it spoken) She gained from him, it be∣ing very much his care and ambition, to en∣courage her with the best grounds and suits of Lessons that could be gotten, and thereby bring her to the highest perfecti∣ons attainable at the Viol.

When She played on this Instrument, though singly, as She used it, it gave the delight of a full Consort; but when in Consort with other Viols, or a set of Lute•• only, or Viols and Lutes together, or with the Harpsicord or Organ, still her Instru∣ment was Queen of all, and as if it ha•• been touched by more than a mortal hand, gave so delicious a sound, and so distinctly too, that any judicious ear might discei•• it above the rest; insomuch that it migh•• be truly said, look what the racy flavour i•• to the richest Wine; fragrancy to flowers▪ varnish to colours; burnish to gold; spark∣ling to diamonds; and splendor to the light•• that was her ravishing stroke to all the o∣ther Musick;* 1.5 and yet (which was the mor•• admirable) She sate so steady, and free from any the least unhandsom motion in her bo∣dy, so modestly careless, and as it wer•• thoughtless of what She was about, as i•• She had not been concerned at all; and al•• this She did, though She never spent th•• tenth part of that time in private practise

which others are wont to do; for indeed She made better use of her time, at other sorts of higher Musick, which was much sweeter to her, as we shall hear anon.

As her accomplishments at the Viol were superlatively great, so at the Lute also, in which Mr. Ashberry having done his part towards her, in teaching of her till he dy∣ed;* 1.6 Mr. John Rogers the rare Lutenist of our Nation, for the last three years, came after him, and added much more to her; professing that her skill at this Instrument was so very exquisite, and her hand so sweet, that he never taught any like her. When She played on the Viol, She seemed to transcend at that Instrument above all the rest, and when She played on the Lute, She seemed to transcend as much there; such a contention, and so pleasant, scarce was ever known from one and the same Vir∣gins hand before.

Had leisure given leave, that She could have spared time from her other Instru∣ments and employments, Mr. Albertus Brian, that famously velvet fingered Orga∣nist, would gladly have done the same for her, which he hath done for one of her Sisters yet living, in making her as rare at the Harpsecord, as She was at any of her other sorts of Musick; and so have paired

the two Sisters together; one set of the choisest Lessons at this Instrument,* 1.7 at the request of the said Mr. Brian, She learned of him, and as himself affirms, not only at∣tained them in a very short time, but played them as well as he himself could.

To this her Instrumental Musick we may adde her Vocal, no less delicious and ad∣mirable, if not more excellent; as if her Lungs had been made on purpose, (as no doubt they were) by their natural melodies to out-do the artificial;* 1.8 and here Mr. Edward Coleman, her Master, and one of greatest renown, for his rare abilities in singing, deserves no less thanks and com∣mendations for the care and delight he took in perfecting her in this Art also, than any of her other Masters.

She was an incomparable Dancer, as at Country, so in French dances, wherein she was so excellently curious, in her Po∣stures, footings, and most graceful coun∣tenance,* 1.9 that Mr. Hazard, her last and chief instructer therein, and one of the rarest Masters of that Art in England, ac∣counted her a prime Flower of the Age in that respect, and said She was as knowing therein, as any Dancing-Master whatever.

The Fame of all which at last grew so publick and universal, that there are few

places in England but have heard thereof, yea, and many parts beyond the Seas too. For not onely persons of high rank and quality, of all sorts, came from London, the Inns of Court,* 1.10 and out of several Coun∣ties, to hear and judge of her abilities, especially the chiefest Musick-Masters that are now living: but many forreigners also, as French, Spanish, Italian, Dutch, as well Agents and Embassadors, as other Travel∣lers into these parts, desired a taste of these her rare qualities, alwayes going away with high admiration, saying that they had now seen one of the choisest rarities of Eng∣land, and professing they never heard or knew of the like in any of their own Coun∣treys.

All other parts of excellent breeding she likewise had; whatever curious Works at the needle, or otherwise can be named,* 1.11 which Females are wont to be conversant in, whether by silver, silks, straws, glass, wax, gum••, o•• any other of the like kinde, she was perfectly skilled in. To say nothing of her ability at the pen, where, being an accountant, her skill was more than ordina∣ry women have; and in Arts of good house-wifry, and Cookery, wherein she had a good

share likewise; I hasten rather to the more noble perfections of her mind, which in∣deed were very aimable and lovely.

For she had a delicate and nimble wit, a quick apprehension, a clear understanding, a sound judgement,* 1.12 a fine invention, a te∣nacious memory, which (as we shall hear anon) she was not wont to stuffe with va∣nity, but with what was most worthy to be learned and kept. And as these natural parts and reasonable faculties of her soul, so her moral virtues also were eminent. She was very discreet,* 1.13 wise, and prudent in her actions; not passionate, nor retentive of an∣ger, never over merry, but modestly grave and composed; of a very comely and hand∣som carriage, insomuch that strangers were wont to say, when she came into their pre∣sence, they had not seen a more sweet com∣portment, or a more taking person. For disposition, so affable, kind, and courteous, that she soon gained the love of all, where ever she came. Her discourse was alwayes pertinent and useful, not at all loquacious, her speech being rather sontentious, than garrulous. These and many such like grace∣ful ornaments, added unto the comeliness of her person, rendred her very winningly

acceptable to all that knew her. But that which most of all commends her, and just∣ly leaves her a very imitable example to all that shall hear of her, and for which principally this present Relation is penned, is much more considerable than what hath been yet said: Namely, that choice and precious work of Grace upon her heart, which God was pleased to work in her, and by which all her other excellencies were sweetly sanctified; the occasion whereof was as followeth.

About four years since, being disappoin∣ted in the enjoyment of her desires in a Match then propounded to her,* 1.14 by the sud∣den death of the party that had gained her affection, she wisely considered with her self, what the meaning of this so sad a pro∣vidence should be; and at last, after many Prayers and tears to God, that he would bless this unexpected stroke to her, and some way make her a gainer by it, her heart began to be much broken and melted towards God,* 1.15 not so much for this tem∣poral loss (which she often said might have proved a snare to her) as at the sight and sense of sin, and her estate by nature (which (though well educated all her time

before) yet till now she had not taken much notice of.

The good work of God thus happily be∣gun, ceased not, but went forward in her heart daily, to the joy of such near Rela∣tions as knew of it; nor could she be quiet, till she had uttered all her mind herein to them, earnestly desiring the assistance of Counsel and Prayer, that she might fully understand her condition, and not be de∣ceived therein. Of all things, she was ex∣ceedingly urgent with God, that he would not suffer her to be mistaken herein. Indeed her fears thereof at first were many and great; the questions she put about it, not a few, but never came to be satisfied there∣in, till God was pleased to give her a sight of that poysonous fountain of original cor∣ruption,* 1.16 with which she found her self al∣wayes pestered, and so hindered in her desi∣sired progress towards Heaven, that this sin above all others she much bewailed.

And farther became so deeply sensible of the danger thereof, and the necessity of an effectual remedy against it,* 1.17 that she made haste to run unto Jesus Christ. 〈◊〉〈◊〉 help, and that not only for the pardon of this sin, but for power against it, and that continually.

Hereupon finding her heart alwayes burdened with sin, full of corrupt motions and affections, and yet still relieved by ap∣plying Christ, with what he had done and suffered, unto her self, and also feeling her desires stirred up by the good Spirit of Grace, more eagerly to long after God, and the knowledge and enjoyment of him; and farther perceiving, that though the same good Spirit sometimes would melt her heart, yet at other times was pleased to leave her without those inward warmths, which in the use of the best means she laboured af∣ter, but by her own strength could not at∣tain unto: she from thence concluded that these changes which she thus felt within her, were the effects of some real and true work of God upon her; for thus she ar∣gued, how comes it to pass, that I feel these alterations in my self, now and never before? How is it, that sometimes I am delighted with the inward and sweet work∣ings of the Spirit of God upon my heart? and that at other times I am troubled for the want of it? I lived under the same Mi∣nistry before; the same publick Ordinan∣ces; injoyed the same helps in the Family, and from faithful friends that sought my

souls best good, and prayed much for it; yet never till now could I find any of all this experience, from the different workings both of Sin and Grace in my own heart. Sure this is of God, said she, and can be from nothing else. Thus at last she came to be somewhat perswaded and confirmed con∣cerning the goodness of her spiritual state, as one that was now got over the pangs of the new Birth, though not without many a salt tear, and broken heart.

Answerable to this first work, was the rest that followed to her dying day, especial∣ly within the last two years of her life,* 1.18 and somewhat more; for when it pleased God so to order it by his permissive providence, that one which she most dearly loved, be∣came guilty of a great offence through a sudden temptation that seized on her; it went neer to her, and was a great occasion of making her search into her own heart and wayes, more narrowly than ever, and not only to bless God that had kept her from the like,* 1.19 but also to mourn for those frailties of her youth, which formerly she minded not, though no other than what usually befal the very best that are.

Thence forward she betakes her self to

a more careful and strict watchfulness o∣ver her own heart;* 1.20 and to close and constant duty, not only in the Family, but most of all in secret, betwixt God and her own soul; insomuch that when she was sometimes missing, and earnestly called for, but could not be found; at last it appeared that she had often hid her self, to be alone with God, in the duties of meditation and fer∣vent Prayer.

One of the first Discoveries hereof, was upon this accasion; being retired into her Closet, and as she thought,* 1.21 had sufficient∣ly fastened the door inwardly, one of her most intimate Consorts, upon an urgent occasion, running hastily in with a violent motion, thrust the door open, little think∣ing at that time, that she had been there; where she kneeling upon her knees, turned about to see what the matter was, the tears in the mean while, trickling down both her cheeks, but was much troubled at this in∣terruption, and discovery of her Devo∣tion.

Indeed that was one of the matters of her complaint, that she wanted convenien∣cy for retirement, where she might fully vent her Soul to God, without disturbance

or observation; and therefore because th•• house was alwayes full of company, havi•••• well nigh an hundred, and sometimes mo•••• of Gentlewomen with their attendants; an•• the Servants and Children of the house e∣very where going up and down,* 1.22 in ev•••• Room, so that she could get no place 〈◊〉〈◊〉 privacy; her manner was, in the day time, to get into the Garden, at such hour•• when others might not so freely come in∣to it, and there with her Bible, or som•• other choice Book, spent an hour or more i•• Reading, Meditation, and such ejaculation•• as she could send up to Heaven in walking at which seasons,* 1.23 she hath sometimes sai•• to such as she was wont to tell her min•• to, her heart hath been as much warm•••• and refreshed in converse with God, as when she hath been most affected upon her knees elsewhere.

Mornings and Evenings she never sail∣ed, by her good will, to read some portion of Scripture (if not called away by extra∣ordinary business on a sudden) and to pour out her heart to God in private Prayer;* 1.24 for which, because no place in the house was so convenient, and so far from noise and sight of others, as one certain re∣mote

room, where none usually came at ••••ose hours,* 1.25 therefore that place of all others ••••e made choice of, in the dark Winter ••venings, and the Mornings before the ••amily was up; many a time hath she vi∣••••ed one corner of that Room, which was ••ost retired, with eyes and hands lift up to ••eaven, kneeling at a chair with great ••••fection, which though she never knew that ••ny took the least notice of (for that would ••ave been a trouble to her) yet a certain ••eer relation that often looked in at a cran∣••y of the door, which she had fastened in∣••ardly, and did not a little joy to see her 〈◊〉〈◊〉 employed, is yet surviving as an eye-wit∣••ess of it. Sometimes her red eyes and ••••lubbered face, discovered her, before she could get conveniencies to wash them, notwithstanding that her hood was pulled over them. Nothing did more abash or ••rouble her, than when any suspected what she had been about; not out of any shame of Religion (for that she owned upon all oc∣casions very freely,* 1.26 as well among the Gentlewomen in the Family, as elsewhere) but out of an honest affectation of being more in this sense, than she would seem to be.

So sweet and pleasant was her Comm••¦nion with God in such retirements as thes•• that she said, if ever she should change h•• condition, it should be more for this re••¦son than any other, that she might hav•• the full and free use of her time, and oth•••• helps for her soul.

It was observed, that she was alwaye•• out of the way at five a clock, and appeare not till the Bell rang to Supper, at six ••¦clock, or thereabout, which time she spen•• in the aforesaid Duties.

If at any time she had omitted duty, 'tw•••• one of her greatest troubles afterward,* 1.27 an•• when she sequestred her self unto duty, whether of Meditation or Prayer, she usu¦ally read some part of David's Psalms (〈◊〉〈◊〉 Book which she greatly delighted in) be¦cause she alwayes found matter there, ver•••• proper, preparative and helpful to her i•• the said Duties.

Among other profitable and fruitful Me∣ditations, she was not a stranger to thoughts of Death, even in her best health▪ insomuch that when she heard a passing Bell or knel for any, her custom was to re∣tire into a solitude for a good space, sometimes an hour or more, there to af∣fect

her heart with such considerations as ••ere suitable to the occasion.

She never was better pleased then when ••e met with any in holy Conference (a pra∣••se which she used (as often as she could ••t opportunity) that communicated ex∣p••riences of the same corruptions and tem∣••ations, that she found in her own heart;* 1.28 ••nd withal, the same wayes of help and ••••lief against them.

When she found a deadness and coldness ••pon her heart, as sometimes she did,* 1.29 and ••ould not get it into a good frame towards ••od, by any means she could use, this in∣••••rence she made from it; that she hereby ••erceived her dependance must be wholly up∣••n Free-grace, as for the acceptation of that she did, so for assistance and ability ••o do what she ought: And several times ••pon this occasion would let fall expressions ••f wonderment,* 1.30 how any that pretended to 〈◊〉〈◊〉 real acquaintance with God, and carry ••orrupt hearts about them, alwayes dogged ••nd set upon by temptations from Satan, ••nd an evil world, could plead for a power ••n themselves unto any thing that is good.

Her care for the spiritual welfare of her ••eer Relations, and some others whom she dearly loved, was very great, and thereup∣on

took occasion often to admonish, exhor•• and perswade them,* 1.31 about the things th•• concerned their eternal state; sometim•••• with tears lamenting their danger, whe•• they walked loosely; and then again rejoy¦cing as much, when she perceived an•• ground of hope for them.

One time when she was asked what sh•••• thought of the condition of one that sh•••• was trusted with the special care of,* 1.32 and w•••• wont to take some pains with, in the ma••¦ters of her soul; she answered, the greate•• thing she doubted her for, was, lest sh•• neglected private duties, which she coul•• never perceive she spent any time in; sup¦posing (as there was good reason she should 〈◊〉〈◊〉 that the driving of that secret Trade fo•• Heaven, is one inseparable property of tru•••• Grace, and that the want thereof, together with the ordinary neglect of Family-dutie•• and publick Ordinances (whatever the out∣ward Profession might be) were argument•• of a very ungracious and profane heart.

* 1.33A notable spirit of discerning she had for when she heard any make semblance o•• love to God, and were very confident o•• their own good estate, but withal spake very woodenly (as her expression was) about

matters of Religion, and the experiences ••••ereof, she much pittyed their case, and ••ayed earnestly, that God would open their ••••yes; convince them of their sin and hypo∣••••isie; shew them them evil and danger of it, ••••d effectually bring them home unto him∣self; often saying, what pitty it was, that ••ny who are otherwise qualified with ma∣••y desirable good things of nature, should ••iss of the highest and best improvement of ••••em for God, and at la•••• perish themselves or want of Grace.

When any vain language, or sinful ex∣••ressions (such as the abusive use of,* 1.34 O ••ord! or O God!) came from any of the Gentlewomen in the House, or any others; ••r any evil action was done by them, she would reprove it so wisely, with so milde and meek a spirit, that they were ashamed of ••t, and sometimes were reformed for the ••uture, at least in her sight and hearing.

Two principal helps which she coveted most, and made the greatest use of, were good Books and good Company.

Of good Books she had some stone, but ••hose that she took chiefest delight in,* 1.35 were Mr. Shepards true Convert and his sound Believer. Mr. Baxter's Call to the uncon∣verted. Dr. Goodwin his triumph of Faith, and heart of Christ in Heaven, toward sin∣ners

upon earth. Dr. Spurstow upon th•• Promises. Mr. Watson his Christian Cha••¦ter. Mr. Brooks his riches of Grace. M•• Love's works. Mr. Craddock's Book 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Knowledge and Practise. Mr. Francis R••¦berts his Key of the Bible. Besides some C••¦techetical Books, as Mr. Baal, Mr. Eus••¦bius Paget his questions and answers upo•• most of the Books of the Old and New Te¦stament;* 1.36 some one of which she alwaye•• read every night in her bed, immediatel•• before sleep, and then fed upon them 〈◊〉〈◊〉 her first waking, by which means she e••¦creased much in knowledge, and kept he•• heart warm whilst it was thus pre-occupie•• from all things else in the morning.

Since January last, she and two or three more, in three months time, read over the whole New Testament,* 1.37 and all along as they went, (still reading an whole Book at 〈◊〉〈◊〉 time) discoursed of the Contents of what they had read; when any doubt arose in her readings either from Scripture or othe•• Books, she sought for satisfaction by putting questions,* 1.38 and alwayes shewed a good un∣derstanding, in the v•••••• mysteries of Di∣vine Truth, and experi••••••••••l Grace, in that no answers ever relished with her, but what most agreed, both with the Analogy of Faith, and the common sense of the best Christians.

Her next great help (as was before hin∣ted) she found to be good Company,* 1.39 which she alwayes desired and sought for, and when she had it, improved it. Fruitful dis∣course she would either set on foot, or en∣deavour to keep up, and drunk it in as plea∣santly, as thirsty men do that which best sa∣tisfieth their thirst. Among all other sub∣jects, none pleased her better than to talk of Heaven, sometimes saying, Oh how sweet would it be to know what is doing there; and then in a kind of rapture would break out with such affection and language, as argued a very great inward Joy at the hopes of her coming thither one day. Such a full content and inward refreshment she felt in conferences of this Nature,* 1.40 that she would often say, her Musick was a burden to her, in comparison; and that were it not in conscience to her duty of be∣ing useful by it in so publick a Family, she would spend much less time in that, and more in this;* 1.41 yet she confessed sometimes (through Grace) it helped to raise her own heart towards the highest Musick of all, and for that 〈◊〉〈◊〉 practised it more than otherwise she ••••ld have done.

Upon occasion when some had been greatly taken with the melody she made, both by her voice and instrument, yet how

short (saith she) doth this come of a warm Prayer,* 1.42 or heavenly Conference? and in∣deed she found it so many a time, when her heart which hath been heavy and sad at first, hath by such Prayers and Confe∣rences gone away greatly cheered and re∣vived, but never could find the like effects from her Musick only.

No day of the Week unto her so wel∣come and desirable as the Lord's Day;* 1.43 dancing dayes were alwayes wearisom, but these pleasant to her, and therefore u∣sually (if much ilness hindered not) she was up more early on these dayes than•• any other, and spent less time in putting on what she wore; her head on these dayes of late years she never drest, and for that reason alwayes went close covered with her hood. She was very diligent and at∣tentive at the publick Ordinance, careful∣ly writing the Sermon, and examining her notes when she came home,* 1.44 which she would not fail to mend by such help as she could get, either at the repetition in the Family, or otherwise, and as constantly re-enforced all by Prayer for a blessing upon it,* 1.45 when she could get opportunity and place convenient, either in her own clo∣set, or elsewhere, and would rather lose her Supper or come late to it, then miss of her aim herein.

Yet here it must be remembred that it was not alwayes thus with her upon these dayes, nor at other times; for she some∣••imes complained of her own heart, and ••ow wearisom these holy duties were to ••he flesh;* 1.46 how apt she was to be taken off ••y divertisements in the Family occasions; that many times when she came down in a morning with a resolution to keep her mind and intent upon God all the day, she was frequently disappointed therein, and still taken off by one business or other, or by some temptation unto vanity, that was ready to surprize her. The consideration whereof at other times much troubled her,* 1.47 kept her under a sense of own her weaknes, and caused her sometimes to break forth in these or the like words. O! how sweet will Heaven be! where there will be no in∣terruptions by sin, or wearisomness of the flesh! What a perpetual rest will that be, when we once come to enjoy it!

By her good will she would not be ab∣sent at any time when the Lord's Supper was administred,* 1.48 of which having always a weeks warning, she failed not with great care to examine her own heart, and put up strong cryes to God for a fitness to so great a Duty, and so high a Priviledge; and in∣deed sometimes had more fear than ordi∣nary

of her unworthiness to partake of it, as appeared by her discourse, which usually was much upon this subject all that Week. So desirous was she not to be found at that Feast, without her wedding garment; it was no small trouble to her sometimes to think what general mixtures there are in that fellowship, in all places throughout the Land; yet being perswaded that to such a sincere receiver, as could not have it otherwise, God would come in with his presence and blessing; she attended upon it in the place where God by his Providence had cast her lot.

Sinful alterations in publick Worship she very much feared,* 1.49 and that she might the better understand the pure Institutions of Christ, and what is contrary thereunto, she took great care to inform her self therein, by reading of such Books as she could get the clearest light from. Much enquiry she made after the Martyrs, as well of antient times, as in later dayes, what they suffer∣ed for, and upon what occasion, desiring and resolving, if she had lived, to have read over the history thereof.

And because she perceived that the Romish Religion, and whatever else is a kin•• to it, is an undoubted piece of Anti-chri∣stianism, that every true servant of Christ

ought to bear testimony against, in these parts of the world, and knew not how soon her self with others might possibly be called to it;* 1.50 therefore she betook her self to the getting a good information in those truths that were likely to be most opposed, especially about the Worship of God. Such Books as lately came forth upon these sub∣jects, she endeavoured to get, and diligent∣ly read. Among other subjects, that of the reign of Christ upon earth was very pleasant to her; for though her belief reached not so far as to conclude that Christ shall come to reign personally on earth again, yet she rejoyced exceedingly,* 1.51 that he shall certainly reign in this world by the effusion of his Spirit, at least, in the hearts of men, and that then Antichrst shall be wholly ruined, and that glorious song of triumph sung, The Kingdoms of this world, are become the Kingdoms of the Lord and his Christ.

And because the Book of the Revela∣tions points at those times wherein these desirable changes shall be,* 1.52 she thought it not improper for her, (though of the female sex) to pry into it with humble reverence and Prayer, and therefore sate down one day with another friend, to read over that whole Book, at one time, which accordingly

they did; beginning at the first Chapter and never ceasing till they had read ove•• the whole two and twenty. This she di•• about three months before her Death, an•• the reason why she did so, was, that sh•••• might take the better notice of the whole Prophecy, and have a full prospect thereof, as it were,* 1.53 all at once; and that which mad•• the reading of it the more pleasant and profitable to her, was the light which sh•• had gained before, in the knowledge of this Book, by twice or thrice reading over th•••• judicious Comment upon it, published b•• Mr. Francis Roberts before mentioned, it his Key of the Bible.

* 1.54She had a very compassionate heart to∣wards the suffering servants of Christ, whether by imprisonment or otherwise; pit∣tyed them much; spake often of them, some∣times with tears in her eyes; and praye•• for them constantly with great affe∣ction.

* 1.55Some of her acquaintances, and very dear friends, such as the Lady Willowby and some others, not here to be named (who highly valued her, and desired her Company (as oft as might be) she frequent∣ly visited for several years together, while under their restraint in the Tower of Lon∣don; to whom after a sweet & more spiritual

converse otherwise, she would sing and play with all alacrity imaginable, to comfort them in their sadness; accounting it an high honour to her, that she was any way able to be a refreshment to those that she thought were dear to God. To such per∣sons and to such places as they were in, though the closest prisons, she went readily and joyfully; but when invited to any Mu∣sick-meeting in London, where the choisest ears, and most skilful Masters of Musick coveted to hear and admire her, though never so earnestly desired,* 1.56 she was still backward to it. One time above the rest, with very great importunity she was strong∣ly set upon by some Gentlemen of special acquaintance, to be present at the Revels or dancing Balls, but being left free to her own choice, whether she would go or not (at which she was very glad) she absolutely & irrefregably refused it, as thinking it no way suitable, either to her Person or Pro∣fession of Religion.

Nor were the Musicks aforesaid, which she so freely imparted to her said friends in Prison, all the comfort they had from her, but her Spiritual and Christian converse al∣so, was a de••igh•• to them, (as is before hinted) as theirs likewise was to her; in∣somuch that when she returned home from

visiting them,* 1.57 her discourse was so raised, and her affections so quickned, that she would sometimes say, O! how brave a thing is to suffer for Christ! who would not wish to be among the souls under the Altar, that cry, how long Lord will it be, ere thou revenge our blood on them that shed it! Thus triumphing, as it were, with a kind of heroick spirit of Martyrdom be∣fore hand; further adding, that since a Death must be undergone, what better or more noble death can there be, than thus to die?* 1.58 Yet at other times she had as great fears upon her, saying, that if she were called to suffering, she doubted she should not hold out; only the consideration of good Company, a good cause, and especially of a good God (she said) would encourage one much.

Among her other gracious qualifications, this was not the least, (especially of latter times) a very tender conscience, as might be instanced in many particulars, wherein she rested not till she received satisfaction to all doubts, from such arguments as were cleered by Scripture, and approved of by persons able to judge in the case.

* 1.59To which also must be added, that when she perceived any, especially such as she had a reverence to, remained unsatisfied in

any of her actions, she was alwayes ready ••pon knowledge of it, from their own ••ouths, to forbear it, out of a tenderness ••f grieving any of the generation of the ••ust, or any way scandalizing her Professi∣on, though as to her own particular, she ••t the same time did think what she was ••o desired to forbear warrantable in it ••elf.

As for black spots or patches,* 1.60 as they are ••alled, she abhorred them with her very soul, and was so far displeased at the sight ••hereof, that when any of the Gentlewomen made use of them, she seldom or never ••eft, till she had prevailed with them, to forbear that so uncivil a dress, or else desi∣red her Mother to take them off from them.

As great an enemy she was to any un∣comely attire; nor did she affect rich laces,* 1.61 or any thing over costly, but what was most ••eat in a plain ga••b, much more minding the Ornaments of the hidden man, which in the sight of God are of greatest price.

It was a great abashment to her,* 1.62 when ••ome unwisely uttered high praises of her to her face, and thereby put her ••nto a blush; the fear whereof, made her often modestly refuse to come into such Company at other times: Indeed she knew God

had blessed her with some of those liu•• things (as she was wont to call them) whic•• the sensual world magnified too much,* 1.63 an•• she desired to be very thankful for them but withal was much afraid of being lift•• up with pride, and therefore entreate•• friends in that respect to pray for her.

As she was alwayes ready to assist he•• Mother in Law in the Family and Sch•••• so she had a particular reverence and ver•• dear affection to her own Father,* 1.64 who cheerfulness and content, was one of th•• greatest pleasures she had in this world; 〈◊〉〈◊〉 his sadness and trouble at any time, 〈◊〉〈◊〉 great an occasion of grief to her;* 1.65 and there¦fore did what she could to minister a•• manner of comfort to him, by the perfo••¦mance of those dutiful and tender re¦spects, which as a child she owed him.

As for her condition in respect of a si••¦gle life,* 1.66 it was not for want of profers fro•• several that would gladly have obtain¦ed her, but through dissatisfaction in th•• qualifications of the Persons, she being re¦solved (God assisting her) never to mat•••• any,* 1.67 were his worldly advantages nev•••• so great, unless she were well assured (〈◊〉〈◊〉 far as charity could iudge) of th•• goodne•••• of his spiritual state, and hee likely-••oo•• of his being a real help to he•• in the way 〈◊〉〈◊〉

Heaven. Had she lived to a perfect reco∣very from sickness, divers considerable of∣fers (known to some friends) would spee∣dily have been made to her, of which she might have taken her choice; but now God hath otherwise declared his pleasure in the highest and best disposing and preferring of her, even by making her a Bride in Hea∣ven, to him who for some years past, had ••gotten her heart from all other Objects; and to whom she stuck with all faithful∣ness, till at last after a sore fit of sickness, she dyed in his arms; the occasion where∣of I now hasten to.

In Whitsun Week, at the earnest desire of a very dear friend, she went to London,* 1.68 where (as Providence ordered it) she was unhappily lodged in damp Linnen, which in the night time clung fast about her, and had left that in her, which she her self said (as soon as she awaked) would prove her Death; whereupon in the morning it be∣ing made known, the best means that could be, were used to prevent the danger of it, but the Lord was not pleased to give suc∣cess therein; and so after three or four dayes she returned home,* 1.69 (upon Saturday J•••••• ••••e 8th.) to her Father's House at Hackney, where all her mind from that time, still ra•• upon the thoughts of her own

Death; the strong apprehensions whereo•• put her upon a great improvement of her remaining time, both in Reading, Praying, and Discoursing,* 1.70 like one that expected shortly to leave the world; for she said she felt that about, her which would carry he•• away quickly,* 1.71 and was much worse inward∣ly, than perhaps any one thought; and therefore exhorted one of her Sisters, whom she dearly loved, and conversed most with, t•• mind eternity, to think much of her change, and labour to be prepared for it; acknow∣ledging the goodness of God to her self, who had spared her so long. After this time she grew worse and worse, till on Saturday June the 22. (14. dayes after her return home) she took her bed,* 1.72 in order to her grave; where being seized upon by a Vio∣lent Feaver, her strength was so wasted, and her spirits gone, that upon the Teusday af∣ter at mid-night, (being June the 25.) she was hardly able to chatter,* 1.73 and so sent for her Father, Mother, and Sisters, to see them once more, and take a solemn leave of them; who when they were come and sate all weeping about her, with great lamenta∣tion, after a little space, as if strength had been renewed on purpose for that end, she began to utter her affections and desires to them about many things, wherein she ex∣pressed

her self, with so much prudence,* 1.74 ••iscretion, and composedness of mind, and ••his for almost four hours together, with ••ome intermissions, that it was marvellous ••o behold; among other things she much ••erswaded to the preservation and streng∣••hening of a love and unity among ••ll Relations. At last as she was say∣••ng,* 1.75 that she had nothing to leave them ••n memorial of her, presently her Father ••old her, he gave her free liberty, to dispose ••f whatever she had; at which she was ••ery much pleased, and thanking of him, distributed to every one according to her ••wn mind; her several Rings to be worn di∣••tinctly, as she directed, by her Father, Mother, and Sisters; two of her Rings she ••ut upon her fingers, and taking them off again,* 1.76 gave them to be kept for her two Brothers beyond Sea, as a token to them ••rom her dying hand; all her Clothes, her Watch, and a certain piece of Plate mark∣••d with her own Name, she gave to one Sister; all her Works and Instruments of Musick to be divided betwixt three other Sisters; her Books also she disposed of; and as a Legacy to all the Gentlewomen of the School;* 1.77 she commended her dying desires and requests to them, that they would not spend their time in reading of vain Books, but instead thereof, to betake themselves

to the best Book of all, the Bible, and such other choice Books, as might do their souls most good; as also that they would be con∣stant in the use of private Prayer; that they would be careful to sanctifie the Lord's Day, and not waste those precious hours in over-curious dressings; and that they would behave themselves reverently at the publick Ordinances, it having been a great offence to her formerly when any have done the contrary.

Then falling into speech about her Fu∣neral,* 1.78 in what Room she desired her Herse might stand, where she should be Buried, and other particulars about the manner o•• it; she desired that all might be done de∣cently, and that Dr. Spurstow, by whose Ministry she had been much edified and comforted, might Preach at her Intermen••, in all which she submitted to her Father's pleasure.

But that which was very remarkable in this her large Discourse,* 1.79 she shed not one fear nor seemed at all sadded at her approaching Death; and when she was told that her Fathers heart was ready to break, wh•• fare-weeping and groaning by her all th•• while; she said she was sorry for it, a•••• asked why he would do so? adding farther that for her part, she was in God's hand

and willing to yield up to him, hoping that ••ll friends would endeavour to do the like; ••••d so being now quite spent with speaking ••or she desired not to be intterrupted, till ••er whole mind was uttered) she lay still ••••e rest of the Night.

The next Day being VVednesday, June ••he 26. Dr. Spurstow came to visit her,* 1.80 ••ho asking her what she found in her self? ••hat she thought concerning her own spi∣••itual State? as also what evidence she had ••f Gods Love? or Promise to rely upon? ••he answered, that she was in the dark as ••o her own evidences, and that they were ••ot so clear to her as she could wish; yet ••hat she was not without hope; that she ••ad found much sweetness in many passa∣••es of Scripture; but from that chiefly (Ro∣••••titus the 8. and 28.) All things shall work ••ogether for good, to them that love God. Af∣••er Discourse ended, she desired of the Doctor, that she might once more hear him Pray, and accordingly had her desire ••herein.

The same Day in the afternoon, she ••as more strongly assaulted than before; for ••ow to her Peaver, and almost exhausted ••trength, convulsive motions were added, and ••isings of the Mother, by which when she had been greatly afflicted, and beyond all

hope recovered again out of them,* 1.81 s•••• called to her Sister sitting by, and aske what day of the Month it was; who enqui¦ring after the reason of that question, w•••• told by her, that if she lived, she woul•• celebrate it for ever hereafter, in a thanks•• remembrance of her being thus reviv•••• again, as it were like another Lazarus.

The next day lying in a slumber, as he•• Sister thought,* 1.82 she suddenly turnes he•• head to her, and hastily tells her, that sh•• had a Call to be gone; a Call, saith she, b•• whom? God hath Called me, replyed she to be gone from hence, and I must die why, how do you know it? said the othe•• very well saith she, I am sure it will be so and therefore do not reckon upon my Life

One coming not long after to visit her and to pray with her, asked her how sh•• did; I am going to Heaven, said she, a•• fast as I can.

Three nights after this, God in a won∣derful manner supporting her under conti∣nual pains, so that friends hoped she migh•• wear them out; well, saith she, for all th•••• I shall dye, and be at rest in Heaven wit•• my dear Lord, before the morning comes yet it proved not so, for she lived almos•• four dayes after, sometimes giving new hope of recovery, and then falling bac•• again.

All the time of her sickness she was ve∣•••• patient,* 1.83 earnestly praying that God ••ould enable her still so to be, and that ••e might not murmur while his hand lay 〈◊〉〈◊〉 heavy on her. Ever and anon she would ••••y out, little doth any know what I feel; ••ut I hope, saith she, God will strengthen ••••e to the end. She often enquired whe∣••••er any were seeking God for her, which ••hen she was assured of, blessed be God, ••••ith she, he will reward them for it.

Three things she desired might earnest∣••y be sought for from God on her behalf, ••atience under her so grievous sickness, ••lear evidences of God's Love, and an easie ••assage, if God should call her out of this ••ife; in all which she was graciously an∣••wered, as every one that attended her ••rom first to last, can witness.

One time she seemed to lye in a kind of Agony,* 1.84 and suddenly breaking out with these words, said, shall I say that God ••ath forsaken me? no, I will not. All the ••ime after she seemed well satisfied, and much at peace in her mind concerning her future state, nor had any fear at all upon ••er; for being told by her Sister, that she was perswaded, if God should be pleased to take her from hence, she should be hap∣py with him; she replyed, I doubt it not in

the least, and was never heard to let fal•• one word to the contrary all the while after.

* 1.85Being asked (as she often was) how she did? she answered, in pain all over, eve•• as God will have it; the Physitian I see can do me no good, but one word from Go•• can help all, if he please.

At another time she looked about her, and said to the standers by, God might ha•••• made you all like me, and I might have bee•• in your case, if it had seemed good to him, b•••• his holy Will be done.

Upon the Lord's Day before her Death, when speech almost quite failed he•• (though not her senses nor understanding,* 1.86 which she had even to the last) she softl•• uttered these words in the midst of very great pains, which all that day universally seized on her, the Goodness of God is the bes•• goodness, the Goodness of God is the best good∣ness; often repeating of it, as if her hear•• were holy taken up with that Meditation.

When a near friend stood by her praying earnestly, for her in this extremity, at eve∣ry sentence she testified a very great affe∣ction,* 1.87 by such a lifting up her eyes and hands towards Heaven, as if her whole soul had ascended in every petition, which oc∣casioned some heavings of the Mother; and

being told, that since it came by the zeal ••f her heart in Prayer, God would sweeten ••t to her; she replyed, I question it not.

On the Munday morning,* 1.88 she often mut∣••ered out very softly, these words, two dayes and an half more, and then I shall be an rest; which she repeated two or three times; and accordingly from that very time, she did live two dayes and an half, to wit,* 1.89 till Wednesday Noon following, and then be∣gan to draw on apace towards her last breath.

Indeed her pains now seemed to leave ••her, or her strength rather, being able no more to struggle; and so lying in a kind of quiet sleep, at last panting for breath a short space, in a small silent groan, gave up her precious soul into the hands of God, whose Angels carrying it away to Heaven (as we have comfortable ground of hope to believe) left us all in bitter mourning and wailing over her dead Body.

When she was laid out in the Chamber where she dyed,* 1.90 dressed in her Night clothes, one would have thought she had been in a kind of smiling slumber; and now the Gentlewomen, with the rest of the Family, and some neighbours coming to see her, and give her their last salute, it would have broken ones heart, to have

heard and seen the many cryes, tears, and lamentations, that the Room was filled with.

So dear a child she was, and of such high deserts (as hath been already related) that her Father and all friends, thought her worthy of a very decent Burial, and accor∣dingly upon Saturday the sixth of July, she was attended to the grave with a numerous Company, in manner following.

The Herse covered with Velvet, was carryed by six servant Maidens of the Fa∣mily,* 1.91 all in White; the sheet was held up by six of those Gentlewomen in the School, that had most acquaintance with her, in mourning Habit, with white Scarf•• and Gloves; a rich costly Garland of gum-work, adorned with Banners and Scutchions, was borne immediately before the Horse, by two proper young Ladies, that intirely lo∣ved her. Her Father and Mother, wi••h o∣ther near Relations, and their Children, fol∣lowed next the Horse, in due order, all in mourning; the Kindred next to them, af∣ter whom came the whole School of Gen∣tlewomen, and then persons of chief rank, from the Neighbour-hood, and from the City of London, all in white Gloves, both Men, VVomen, Children, and Servants, ha∣ving been first served with Wine.

When the Herse first entred the Church, the rest of the Schools were all there, in their respective places, affectionately sympa∣••hizing with the rest of the Mourners. I know not whether Hackney Church hath often not more weeping eyes; and aking hearts in it, on such an occasion, so great∣••y and generally was she beloved.

The Horse being set down, with the Garland upon it, the Reverend Dr. Spurstow applyed himself to the proper work of the ••eason, and preached upon those words,* 1.92 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Cor. 3.22. Death is yours. From whence, after he had declared at large the sweetness that lyes in this word Death, as it is a part of Christ's Legacy to a Believer, he made such useful inferences and applications, ••s were proper for the occasion.

This done, the rich Coffin anointed with ••weet Odors, was put down into the Grave, ••n the middle Alley of the said Church,* 1.93 un∣•••• ••he same stone, where Mrs. Anne Carew, ••ne of the great beauties of England in her ••ime, and formerly a Gentlewoman of the School, and intimately acquainted with her, was buryed; being the second of those five Gentlewomen onely, which have dyed out of ••er Father's House, among? those eight hun∣••red, that have been educated there, within ••he compass of seventeen years.

And now what follows after all this? i•• it not a fair warning to us,* 1.94 that yet survive her, to bethink our selves of our own condi∣tion? and whether we be ready for death, i•• we should be suddenly called, as she in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 manner was? should we not make it ou•• constant Prayer, and utmost endeavour, t•• number our dayes, and so to number them as to apply our hearts to Wisdom, even t•• that Wisdom only, which will make us 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to dye? All the dayes of my appointed tim•• will I wait (saith Job) till my change come O let that be our saying too, and our pra∣ctise also.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Her early pregnancy while a child.
• * 1.2

  A most rare Musician, & plays at sight on the Tre∣ble Viol at 14. years & a half old.
• * 1.3

  Took her Musick as it were natu∣rally.
• * 1.4

  Becomes ex∣cellent at the Lyra Viol.
• * 1.5

  She plays in∣comparably, and yet sits as if she min∣•••• it not.
• * 1.6

  And at the Lute.
• * 1.7

  ••lso at the ••arpsecord.
• * 1.8

  She sings most sweetly.
• * 1.9

  A most cu∣rious Dancer.
• * 1.10

  Her Music•• frequented by strangers from all part not only in England, but in for∣reign Na∣tions.
• * 1.11

  She had all other parts of breeding, whether in curious works or whatever else.
• * 1.12

  ••er natural ••••rts.
• * 1.13

  ••er moral ••irtues.
• * 1.14

  Her Conver¦sion, and th•• occasion of i••
• * 1.15

  Her broken∣ness of heart
• * 1.16

  Her deep sense of Ori∣ginal sin.
• * 1.17

  She makes haste to Christ.
• * 1.18

  Her Reli∣gious course ••f Life.
• * 1.19

  Looks more narrowly in∣to her own heart.
• * 1.20

  Is very watchful o∣ver her self, and keeps close to duty.
• * 1.21

  Her secret Communion with God, discovered against her Will.
• * 1.22

  She seeks the greatest privacy for her Devo∣tion.
• * 1.23

  Findes much sweetness in her lonely walks with God.
• * 1.24

  A diligent Reader of the Scriptures.
• * 1.25

  The chief place of her retirement for holy du∣ties.
• * 1.26

  Much trou∣bled when discovered in them.
• * 1.27

  Is much troubled for sins of omis∣sion.
• * 1.28

  She loves the Commu∣nication of Christian ex∣periences.
• * 1.29

  By the dead∣ness of her own heart findes conti∣nual need of assisting Grace.
• * 1.30

  Wonders at those that plead for a power in na∣ture.
• * 1.31

  She is care∣ful for the souls of o∣thers.
• * 1.32

  Her chara∣cter of true Grace.
• * 1.33

  A quick dis∣cerner of o∣thers that made profes∣sion of Reli∣gion.
• * 1.34

  A wise re∣prover of sin.
• * 1.35

  The choice Books she read.
• * 1.36

  Her Pra∣ctise every night, before she went to sleep.
• * 1.37

  Reades over the whole New Testa∣ment in 3. months time.
• * 1.38

  Full of que∣stions from what she read.
• * 1.39

  Her deligh•• in good Com∣pany and good Dis∣course.
• * 1.40

  Her Musick a burden to her in com∣parison.
• * 1.41

  The Spiri∣tual use she makes of her Musick
• * 1.42

  A warm Prayer or ••eavenly ••onference ••weetest of all to her.
• * 1.43

  Lord's dayes most welcome to her; dan∣cing dayes wearisom, are but these pleasant.
• * 1.44

  A diligent Writer of Sermons.
• * 1.45

  Loseth her meals rather than oppor∣tunity for prayer.
• * 1.46

  Is much troubled at divertise∣ments.
• * 1.47

  Is much comforted at the thoughts of Heaven, where no in∣terruptions will be.
• * 1.48

  By her good will never misseth the Lord's Sup∣per.
• * 1.49

  She much fears pollu∣tion in the Worship of God.
• * 1.50

  Takes pains to be instru∣cted in Christ's In∣stitutions, a∣bout Do∣ctrine, Disci∣pline and Worship.
• * 1.51

  Joyes much at the thought of Christs Kingdom up∣on earth.
• * 1.52

  Reades the whole Book of the Reve∣lations at one time.
• * 1.53

  Reades an excellent Comment up∣on the Reve∣lations two or three times over.
• * 1.54

  A great sympathizer with the suf∣fering ser∣vants of Christ.
• * 1.55

  Visits some choise friends in the To∣wer, and comforts them with Musick and discourse.
• * 1.56

  Would not b•• prevailed with to go t•• Revels or dancing Bals
• * 1.57

  Accounts it 〈◊〉〈◊〉 sweetness ••nd glory to suffer for Christ.
• * 1.58

  Yet fears her own strength ••f called to suffer.
• * 1.59

  Yet rather ••han would ••ffend other, resolves to deny her self in that particular.
• * 1.60

  A great ha∣ter of black spots.
• * 1.61

  And of all uncomely and undecent dresses.
• * 1.62

  Could not en∣dure to hear her own praises.
• * 1.63

  Fears the pride of her own heart.
• * 1.64

  A ready help in the Family.
• * 1.65

  And a most dutiful and tender child to her Fa∣ther.
• * 1.66

  She wanted no profers for marriage.
• * 1.67

  Resolves ne∣ver to marry any but such as may help her in her way to Hea∣ven.
• * 1.68

  Her sickness unto Death, with the oc∣casion of it.
• * 1.69

  Her mind runs altoge∣ther upon her own Death.
• * 1.70

  Prepares for it.
• * 1.71

  Exhorts her friends to prepare for a change.
• * 1.72

  She takes her bed in a Violent Fea∣vour.
• * 1.73

  Three dayes after sends for all friends to take a so∣lemn leave of them.
• * 1.74

  Discourseth excellently with inter∣missions for divers hours.
• * 1.75

  With her Fa∣ther's leave gives all she had to seve∣ral friends.
• * 1.76

  Distributes her Rings, Clothes, VVorks, Books and Instruments.
• * 1.77

  Her Legacy to the Gen∣tlewomen of the School.
• * 1.78

  Expresseth her mind a∣bout her Fu∣neral.
• * 1.79

  Seems not afraid of Death.
• * 1.80

  VVhat pro∣mise she re∣lyed upon, though in the dark.
• * 1.81

  Her thank∣fulness for a little ease, and pious re∣solution if she lived.
• * 1.82

  She awakes out of a kind of trance.
• * 1.83

  Prayes very much for pa∣tience, and is answered.
• * 1.84

  Some fear seizeth on her, but pre∣sently va∣nisheth.
• * 1.85

  Submits to the will of God.
• * 1.86

  Her medita∣tions fixed on God.
• * 1.87

  Her great fervency in time of pra∣yer, though weak.
• * 1.88

  She fortels the hour of her own Death.
• * 1.89

  And dyes at the same hour.
• * 1.90

  The great lamentation at her laying out.
• * 1.91

  Her honou∣••••ble Burial.
• * 1.92

  The Text preached up∣on at her Funeral.
• * 1.93

  The place of her Burial.
• * 1.94

  The Conclu∣sion of all.