he seemed not ill pleased; and we had accidentally met in two or three places some time before.

These were the motives, that led him to call for my company. After I had waited on him once or twice, he grew into that freedom with me, as to open to me all his thoughts, both of religion and morality, and to give me a full view of his past life, and seemed not uneasy at my frequent visits. So, till he went from London, which was in the beginning of April, I waited on him often.

As soon as I heard how ill he was, and how much he was touched with the sense of his former life, I wrote to him, and received from him an answer, that, without my knowledge, was printed since his death, from a copy, which one of his servants conveyed to the press. In it there is so undeserved a value put on me, that it had been very indecent for me to have published it: yet that must be attributed to his civility and way of breeding and indeed he was particularly known to so few of the clergy, that the good opinion he had of me, is to be imputed only to his unacquaintance with others.

My end in writing, is so to discharge the last commands this lord left on me, as that it may be ef fectual to awaken those, who run on to all the exces

A

ses of riot; and that in the midst of those heats, which their lusts and passions raise in them, they may be a little wrought on by so great an instance of one, who had run round the whole circle of luxu ry; and, as Solomon says of himself, Whatsoever his eyes desired, he kept it not from them; and withheld his heart from no joy. But when he looked back, on all that, on which he had wasted his time and strength, he esteemed it vanity and vexation of spirit though he had both as much natural wit, and as much acquired learning, and was as much improved by thinking and study, as perhaps any libertine of the age. Yet, when he reflected on all his former courses, even before his mind was illuminated with better thoughts, he counted them madness and folly.

But when the power of religion came to operate on him, he added a detestation to the contempt he formerly had of them, suitable to what became a sincere penitent, and expressed himself in so clear and so calm a manner; so sensible of his failings towards his Maker and his Redeemer, that, as it wrought not a little on those, that were about him, so, I hope, the making it publick may have a more general influence, chiefly on those on whom his former conversation might have had ill effects.

I have endeavoured to give his character as fully as I could take it; but as I saw him only in one light, in a sedate and quiet temper, when he was under a great decay of strength and loss of spirits; I cannot give his picture with that life and advantage that others may, who knew him when his parts were more lively yet the composure he was then in may perhaps be supposed to balance any abatement of his usual vigour, which the decline of his health brought him under.

I have written this discourse with as much care, and have considered it as narrowly as I could. I am sure, I have said nothing but truth. I have done it slowly, and often used my second thoughts in it; not being so much concerned in the censures which might fall on myself, as cautious that nothing should pass, that might obstruct my only design of writing, which is the doing what I can towards reforming a loose and lewd age.

And if such a signal instance, concurring with all the evidence we have for our most ho y faith has no effect on those who are running the same course, it is much to be feared they are given up to a reprobate sense.

LIFE AND DEATH

OF THE

EARL OF ROCHESTER.

JOHN WILMOT, earl of Rochester, was born in April, Anno Domini, 1648. His father was Henry, earl of Rochester, but best known by the title of lord Wilmot, who bore so conspicuous a part in all the late wars, that mention is often made of him in the history. He had the chief share in the honour of the preservation of Charles II. after Worcester fight, and the conveying him from place to place, till he happily

escaped into France; but, dying before the king's return, he left his son little other inheritance, than the honour and title derived to him, with the pretensions such eminent services gave him to the king's favour. These were carefully managed by the great prudence and discretion of his mother, a daughter of that noble and ancient family of the St. Johns of Wiltshire, so that his education was carried on in all things according to his quality.

When he was at school, he was an extraordinary proficient at his book; and those shining parts, which have since appeared with so much lustre, began then to shew themselves. He acquired the Latin to such perfection, that, to his dying day, he retained a great relish for the fineness and beauty of that tongue; and was exactly versed in the incomparable authors, that wrote about Augustus's time, whom he read often with that peculiar delight, which the greatest wits have ever found in those studies.

When he went to the university, the