THE Situation of PARADISE FOUND OUT: Being an HISTORY Of a Late Pilgrimage UNTO THE HOLY LAND. With a necessary APPARATUS prefixed, Giving Light Into the whole DESIGN.  I have chosen the Way of Truth, Psal. 119. v. 30. 
LONDON: Printed by J. C. and F. C. for S. Lowndes, over against Exeter-Exchange in the Strand, and H. Faithorne, and J. Kersey, at the Rose in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1683.   


Doce me Domine viam tuam ut ingrediar in veritate tua  
Teach me thy WAY O Lord I will walk in thy TRUTH.  Ps. 86. 11.  Engraving showing a pilgrim walking along a path towards a domed church, a cross and open book in his hands.  
Doce me Domine viam tuam ut ingrediar in veritate tua Teach me thy WAY O Lord I will walk in thy TRUTH. Ps. 86. 11.   

AN ADDRESS TO The Gentry Of both SEXES, And the Youth. In this Kingdom.  
FRom as many of You as have either Estates too Narrow and Limited for the Greatness of Your Minds, or are delighted with curious Inquiries and newfound Lands, or know how to divert Your selves with the Tales and the Legends of Love, can be pleased in reading a Cleopatra or a Parthenissa; these Papers may hope for a favourable Reception. Though their own Worth may not be great, what they present You with, I am sure, is justly valuable. The Ambitious and the Covetous may here feed both their Desires; the one may be ennobled, the other enriched: You are told how to seek, and invited to lay hold on Crowns of Glory, and Riches not to be exhausted: You are taught how to add to an Earthly Inheritance conveyed down to You by Your Ancestors, an Inheritance better and safer; a Land flowing with Milk and Honey, with the richest Abundance, and the delicious Overflowings of unbounded Joys. In the next place, to all them whom Discoveries please, here is given the Greatest, and the Noblest, and the most Necessary besides. And lastly, if they chance but to meet with Sanguine Readers, such as are taken with Composures of this nature, and are of a Temper that is Soft and Passionate, as they are the most proper for, so are they the most likely of any to move these: Yet if this cannot be done, it will be well enough, if they can do no more but detain such Persons a little while from what is worse.  
LADIES,  
You, among the rest, may challenge no small Propriety herein. Unless You are out of love with Your Beauty, You cannot be displeased at One who directs You to a Fountain that will render You far more lovely and beauteous: that will make You attract even Angels for Your Lovers, and all the blessed Choir of the fairest and the chastest Spirits holily enamoured on You. Whereas if You wash not in this Fountain rising out of Paradise, it is impossible for Your Beauty either to be perfect, or not to fade. I doubt not also but that Pilgrim's Habit will become You as well as another Dress, and the Virtues fit upon You like so many incomparable Jewels.  
But that which most of any thing commends it to You All; this is not (as is frequently so) a Present of dry Ethics, or of troublesome Speculations: but what may better suit Your Age and your Degree, and which now and then may serve (at least) to pass the idle time away as delightfully, and more innocently than is now usual. 'Tis an honest Policy, a Stratagem to make You in love with Religion, a Counter-treason to betray You into Felicity, a Design to render You Happy, against Your Wills. Without any Fucus, this shows You true Happiness and true Pleasure; and I may presume I know You better, than that You can be angry at me for showing You the last. Nay, forasmuch as this mean Essay comes upon such an Errand, though it's sent not forth perhaps in so rich Dress as it deserves; it will be no more I hope for this despised, than the poor Labourer who opens You a wealthy Mine: nor will such a Proffer, I believe, be rejected by any, only for that the Tools and Pick-Axes are not of Gold. Besides, it requires somewhat of favourable Allowance, as coming from one that is no Ecclesiastic: Nor can it hence be thought the Foolishness of Preaching. Nay, he is so far removed from Envy or Interest, and so much Your Friend, that he would not for all the World rob You even of one small paltry Pleasure, but to give You a thousand; to give You Pleasures better and more refined, more real and satisfactory. And he hopes You will not esteem it in him so unpardonable a Crime of Profane, to make You Christian Epicures.  
Who if he can but thus insensibly snare You, and before You are ware draw You back from the Vale of Death, and the Pit of Eternal Burn; he fears not at all but that in the other Parts (which he hopes will be abundantly more delightful than this first) You will be ready to bear him company, unto the Land of Endless and Unconceivable Delight. But in good earnest, till You have gone so far, You must not think to take Heaven by Violence, or leap over the Mound, into the Paradise of God: to find a Place out which You never so much as sought after. However, he is confident he hath done his best, and what he can, and hearty wishes in the 
* Da portionem meam in horto Eden, munda me in seculum futurum justis destinatum, notam fac mihi semitam vitae, & satia me laetitiâ vultus tui gloriosi. Lit.  Jewish Form of Comprecation, that Your Portion (whatever it be before upon Earth) may be in the Garden of Eden.   

THE CONTENTS of the Apparatus.  

Sect. 1. Of PARADISE. 
THE Pardés Hachócmah and Hanéshamoth. Four believed by the Jews to have entered the former, and Three the latter. Great Multitudes there. Four Rabbinical Acceptions thereof. The Paradise of Nature, and of Scripture. Four Paradises. Terrestrial Paradise; 1. Whether or no known to the Heathens, their Fables concerning it considered, Elysian Fields, Gardens of Alcinous, Adonis, the Chaldaean Paradise. 2. Whether it yet exists. 3. It's Site. Several Opinions. Moses ●seth the names given after the Flood. Burnet's Hypothesis. The generally received Opinion of Steuchus. Opinion of the Ancients revived by Nicolaus Abram. 4. The Original and Reason of the Allegory. Paradise taken for the State of Blessed Souls before the Resurrection, and in a more general sense. An Expostulatory Conclusion.   
Sect. 2. Of the PARABOLICAL Style. 
The General Reason of the Miscarriage of Pious Discourses. History and Allegory. Chosroes. Mythology of the Ancients. Several Allegorical Writers. Ancient Poetry. Fabula Romana. Pilgrimage. Scala Paradisi: De Sorbona: Bonaventure: Bernardine: Giraldus: De Nerveze: Gracian: Parable of the PILGRIM: B. Taylor: Earl of Orrery. The Author's Design. A List of some Characters and Persons in the History. The Parables of Christ. Story of Tobit. Judith. Apocryphal Books. Susanna. Romish Legends. Chimerical Fancies of Ariosto and Spencer. The Scene of the History. Not guilty of satire.     

AN APPARATUS, OR Preliminary Discourse OF PARADISE: THE Author's Design, and manner of Writing.  

SECTION I.  
THE Jews tell us of two Paradises; one of which they call 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Pardés Hachócma, or the Paradise of Wisdom; the other 
† 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Pardés Hanéshamoth, or the Paradise of Souls, and the Animalia Sanctitatis, (the Angels) and placed above the Ninth Heaven. By the first, meaning the Acquist of Spiritual and Eternal Truths; and by the latter, the possession of Eternal Bliss: So making one the preparation and the introit into the other the Contemplation of the Divine and the Angelical Natures, and of the stupendous Fabric of the Creation. (which is the first) the prepossession of and admission into that other Paradise which is above. Now were we but so happy as to find out, or set footing in either of these, there we might feed on the Tree of Knowledge without sin; 
* Nullus hic Cherubin qui arccat, nemo qui aditum inhibeat.  on the Tree of Life and Immortality, without being repelled by a Flaming Sword, or the fiery Judgements of an angered and almighty God. But, say they, he who enters here, must not be idle and lazy, dronish and unactive, 
† 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 R. Maim. Halc. Jes. Hathorath. c. 4.  must not starve and macerate himself, but must fill his belly with Bread and Flesh; and that it is Bread and Flesh to know what is prohibited and sinful, what lawful and righteous: This being as much the Food of our Souls as they are of our Bodies. Thus did our Saviour Christ, using this common Jewish Metaphor, call it, 
‖ Joh. 4. 34.  His Meat to do the Will of Him that sent him, and to finish his Work. And so must every good Disciple of his think of the performance of his most Holy Will, that would this day and ever be with him in Paradise; here in one, hereafter in the other.  
§ 2. Into the first 
* Ecclus. 24.  the Paradise of Divine Science, the holy Parnassus, the Grove of chaste Muses and devout Philosophy, the Garden of God, the Garden of the eternal Wisdom planted upon Earth; not many enter, not many strive to enter. The Arithmetic of the Jews is indeed somewhat strange, that will allow but Four to have entered, viz. Hazai, Soma, Elisa, and Akiba, Talmudical Doctors. But however, certain it is, they are very few and soon numbered; a very inconsiderable parcel of men that are so happy. And as into the first there are reckoned these Four whilst they were living, into the other they reckon not so many by one; Enoch, Elias, and R. Joshua, to have entered whilst their Souls were embodied with Flesh; to whom some Christians added St. John as a fourth, to complete the number. They also confining not only Paradise, but even the Resurrection unto the Seed of the Circumcision, give almost as narrow an account of those who have put off their Flesh, as they do of the others; notwithstanding they make these to pass through a Purgatory as bad (if not the same with) Hell. In like manner the Holiness of the Christian Religion, and the Lives of its Professors, have made some conclude (and publicly declare as much) that not one in a Myriad of us are to be saved, and would make Paradise very small and uninhabited.  
§ 3. Now to prevent this, and thereby refute a conclusion that must needs be distasteful unto most men, I (who delight not to terrify my Readers with the narrowness of the Way, straitness of the Gate, and littleness of Christ's Flock, but had rather show them a great multitude, which no man can number, of all Nations, and Kindred's, and People, and Tongues, standing before the Throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with white Robes, and Palms in their hands, Rev. 7. v. 9) shall try to chalk them out not a rugged, uneven, crooked, or by-path, but one that is safe, easy, and pleasant.  
§ 4. The Pardés Hachócma which I have told you to be the entrance into this of beatified Spirits, and which is therefore attainable (and must of necessity be attained) in some measure upon Earth, by all good and all wise men, is very much the same with that which is called the Life or State of Grace; and is that Divine Wisdom which takes up so great part of the Proverbs, the Book of Wisdom, and Ecclesiasticus.  
§ 5. Moreover, the Rabbins signify by it, 1. Talmudical Contemplations. 2. The Science of the Divine Attributes. 3. Their Fourfold Interpretation of the Scriptures. 4. The Philosophy of Natural Bodies and Angels. It may also be taken these two ways; viz. as it is to be drawn from the Book of Nature, or of God; which we may call the Natural and Scriptural Paradise.  
I. The first is the consideration of Man himself, his Author, Matter, Form, and End both intrinsic and extrinsic; and so from him passing to the Great World, of the Multitude of created Being's, their Diversity, Powers, and Beauty, the Earth, Water, and Fountains, the Air, Fire, Heaven, Sun, Moon, and Stars; from thence to the Rational Soul; then Angels; then the Essence of God, his Power, Wisdom, Goodness, and Justice; which the Pen of Cardinal Bellarmin hath very piously and pathetically drawn, (for Virtue is so amiable, that I like her even in an Enemy, and am bound to do justice to him from whom I differ in Opinion) in those excellent Meditations of his decrepit Age, to which he gives the Title, Of the Ascension of the Soul to God by the Steps of the Creatures; in imitation, he tells us, of The Souls Itinerary done by Bonaventure. And he says, that 
* Qui enim singulari Dei dono per aliam viam in Paradisum admissi audierunt arcana Dei, quae non licet homini loqui, two non ascendisse, sed rapti fuisse dicendi sunt. quod de se B. Paulus apertè confitetur, cum ait: Raptus suam in Paradisum, & audivi arcana verba, quae non licet homini loqui. Pref.  those who by God's special leave are any other ways admitted into Paradise, are not to be said to Ascend, but to be Caught up thither; which St. Paul confesses of himself, when he says he was caught up into Paradise, and heard Unspeakable Words, not lawful for man to utter.  
II. The Book of God, as it deserves most justly, so it has received from some, the name of Paradise. Aloysius Novarinus, in his Paradisus Deliciarum, has quite throughout kept prettily to the Allusion, and very handsomely turned the literal truth of the Story, and spiritualised it. Herein every Leaf is moved and shaken with the Breath of God, and the Garden is watered with a River which is Gods, streams of Living Waters; and here also not one, but every Tree is a Tree of Life, bearing the 
* Joh. c. 6 v. 68  Words of Eternal Life, and that which is for the 
† Rev. c. 22. v. 2.  Healing the Nations. 
‖ Et nunc deambulat in Paradiso Deus, quando divinas Scripturas lego. Paradisus est Genesis liber, in quo virtutes pallulant Patriarcharum; Paradisus Deuteronomium, in quo germinant Legis praecepta; Paradisus Evangelium, in quo arbor vitae bonos fructus facit, & aeternae spei mandata diffundit per universos populos, l. 6. Ep. 41. ad Sabin.  Then God walks in this Paradise, when I read therein, saith S. Ambrose. This is the Paradise or Garden of the Holy Ghost, whose Rivers are the Four Evangelists, saith the 
* Moses Bar Cepha, Biblioth. Patr. tom. 1. p. 491.  Bishop of Bethraman and others. The Law is a Paradise, say they, and so is the Gospel: the 
† Psalterium est Paradisus animarum. Cass.  Psalms, and the Prophets, and the 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 (Sc. Pauli) 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Chrys. Homil. 21. Ep. 2. Cor.  Epistles are so many lesser or greater Paradises for the man to till, Gen. 21. 15. and gather thence the Fruits. 
† 

Lector quisquis es,  
Paradisus esto, ut Paradisum ingrediaris,  
Aut ingressus evade:  
Serpens huc nullus, nullus aspis accedat;  
Dolus omnis exsit, & omne virus.  
Al. Novarin. Elect. Sacr. l. 1.    Whosoever enters, must be himself a Paradise, (that is, innocent, calm, and pleasant) or be converted into one.  
§ 6. Both this and the former are contained under the general name of Pardés Hachócma; and that too under the name of the Heavenly. The one being but the Consummation and Completion of the other: the first a Foretaste of the last: the one of 
‖ Paradisus Spiritualis duplex est, una est in ecclesiâ militante, altera in ecclesiâ triumphante. Bonav.  Sojourning, and the other of Triumphing Saints. There are also other Divisions; as into that 
* Interior.  Within, which is a virtuous and serene Mind; that 
† Exterior.  Without, which is the Church Militant; that 
‖ Superior.  Above, which is the Church Triumphant; that 
* Inferior.  Below, which is the Affluence of Temporals, Joy, and Abundance in this Life. Of these may the Divine Author say, 
† 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Eccl. 2. 5.  I have made me Gardens and Paradises, and I have planted in them Trees of all Fruits.  
§ 7. But for the better explanation of the Allegory, and the discovery of the Analogy betwixt both, it will be necessary to premise somewhat concerning the Terrestrial Paradise. The Author of Paradise Lost, handsomely describes it.  

— In this pleasant Soil  
His far more pleasant Garden God ordained;  
Out of the fertile ground he caused to grow  
All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste;  
And all amid them stood the Tree of Life,  
High, eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit  
Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life,  
Our Death, the Tree of Knowledge, grew fast by,  
Knowledge of Good, bought dear by knowing iii.  
Southward through Eden, etc.   

And in another place, speaking of Raphael, he says,  
Their glittering Tents he passed, and now is come  
Into the Blissful Field, through Groves of Myrrh,  
And flowering Odours, Cassia, Nard, and Balm;  
A Wilderness of Sweets: for Nature here  
Wantoned as in her prime, and played at will  
Her Virgin-Fancies, pouring forth more sweet;  
Wild above Rule or Art; enormous Bliss.   

Of the Fountain he says,  
But rather to tell how, if Art could tell,  
How from that Saphire Fount, the crisped Brooks,  
Rolling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold,  
With mazie Error under Pendant Shades,  
Ran Nectar, visiting each Plant, and fed  
Flowers worthy of Paradise—   

Of the Gate he says,  
— It was a Rock  
Of Alabaster, piled up to the Clouds,  
Conspicuous far.—   
Here, though I might be voluminous upon the History of Paradise, and those many Inquiries concerning it that are to be found among the Schoolmen and the Commentators; lest I should exceed the bounds of a Discourse that is Introductory, (which I am afraid I shall nevertheless) I must be very short upon each Particular. First, I shall show what was known thereof to the Heathens: Secondly, Inquire whether it yet exists: Thirdly, give some account of its situation: And then lastly, lay down the Grounds and Reason of the Allegory.  
I. That the Heathen World had knowledge thereof, I make no doubt. It is not improbable that they should receive such a Tradition (of a Garden in the East) from the Sons or Grandchilds of Noah, who were the Fathers of their Nations. And every one has Experience enough to tell him how much Tradition and Rumour will in a short time grow unlike themselves, and what they were at first. But yet if it were not so, the Egyptians had space and opportunity, no man can deny, to learn the same from the Jews: and the Greek Philosophers who traveled into Egypt, might learn it there. For the Garden of Jupiter in Plato, seems to me to be the very Translation of the * Garden of the Lord, Gen. 13. 
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. In Symp.  10. in Moses. (Though I know Dr. Parker, in his Censure of the Platonic Philosophy, will not allow this.) The 
† Et vero fabulam hanc effe Phoeniciam constat ex ipso Elysii nomine, quod ex Phoenicum linguâ desumtum. Ebralcè enim 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 alag, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 alats, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 alas est laetari & exultare; & 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 aliz laetus, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 alizuth exultatio. Ind Elysius' 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 A & E permutatis, ut in Enakim, Evila, etc. Geogr. Sacr. l. 1. c. 34.  Elysian Fields, from the Descriptions we have of them, I take to have been at first the Land of Eden. Both signify almost the same; Eden the place of Pleasure, and Elysium the Place of Joy, (as learned Bochart derives it.) Whence Jerusalem is by the Prophet Isaiah called Kirjath Alyzah, c. 22. v. 2. the City of Joy and Exultation: a Joyous City we render it; so very well befitting the Celestial Jerusalem, and excellently expressing the Christian Elysium. Besides, the variety of Opinions concerning the situation of Elysium, makes me the apt to believe this. For some of them placed it upon the Earth; others near the Empyraean Heaven; others under the Earth, in the Confines of Hell. Of those that placed it upon the Earth, some said that it was far beyond the Ocean, some in Rhodes, some in the Fortunate Islands, some in the further part of Spain, and not far from the Pillars of Hercules; some about 
‖ 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉— Hesych. Vid. etiam Plutarcum in Vit. Sertorii.  Egypt, others about Lesbos; some said that it was an inaccessible place, guarded with Thunder and Lightning. The last any one may easily guests to refer unto the Flaming Sword that guarded Paradise; and the rest may be without much difficulty in like manner paralleled. I know that Fancy can parallel and compare things very different; but it cannot create any likeness that is real. And that this is not a mere Fancy, will further appear from the Writings of the Heathens, who tell us they received all their Notices of a Future State (and consequently of their Elysium) from the Barbarians. Not but that I allow a great deal to the Invention of the Poets. The Gardens also of Alcinous, and the Hesperides, are like enough to be stolen Relations of this our Father Adam; altered and mangled by transmission from the Phoenicians. These are perhaps but several names for the same place. The first I conjecture to be the same with pards All Cenaan, and by a light mistake (of 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  two Final Letters not much unlike) All Cenaas, the Garden or the Paradise of Canaan, and is thence easily made Alcinous. It is described by the 
† 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. Odyss. H. v. 112. ad 132.  Ethnic Poet (whom we may allow to dress it up according to his own fancy) A place large and pleasant, (as much as Fiction can make it) where delicious Breathes continually blow, and the Fruits 
‖ 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. ib.  fall not from the Trees, or ever rot, but hang untouched with any Blast or Worm; the choicest for their Excellency, and wonderfullest for their Perpetuity; a place having always the Fertility of one Season of the year, and yet the delightfulness and beauty of the other; ever blest with a rich Autumnal Spring. But from the strong aversion they had against the Jews, who placed it in the East, these would therefore place it in the West; and call the Eastern Garden the Garden of the West, or the Hesperideses (which is all one.) And this Opinion hath continued hitherto in some few parts of the Idolatrous World, who think the Souls of their Friends are carried into a place of Rest that lies toward this quarter of the Heavens. Adonidis Horti in the Poets, the delicious and fragrant Gardens of Adonis, may perhaps be the 
* Gen. 13. 10. Ezech. 28. 13.  Garden of Adonai, (which is the name of the Lord in the Hebrew, and also the common reading of the most Holy and Concealed Name JEHOVAH,) multiplied. Ambrosia, which signifies Immortality, or a Preservative against Death, and is that on which they supposed their Deities to feed, by eating whereof they became unable to die, Pontamus and others will have to be the Tree of Life; but Nectar is more apparently derived from the Hebrew Fountain, and is the same both in its 
† 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Origination and Use with Cauthar the River of the Mahometan Paradise. But more than all this, I find the very name of Paradise was not unknown unto them: Psellus saith it was used in the Magical Rites of Zoroastres. It appears from him, that the Learned of the Chaldeans knew it, though they took it in a Metaphorical and Spiritual sense, understanding thereby Virtue and Wisdom; which is the same with the first division of Paradise I mentioned.  
II. This blessed place which the Jews knew by infallible History, and the Gentile World by Fables, has busied the Curiosity of a great many Inquirers; and it is the Opinion of some, that it was never destroyed; or if part of it was, not all. For it was uncurst by God, say they, and needed not any Deluge to purge it, like the rest of the Earth. Here they will have Enoch and Elijah to live together, and to feed on the Tree of Life in the midst, or (as others will have it) in the East of the Garden. Near which Tree, they who will allow the greatest part of it to be drowned and defaced, yet reserve a few (about six) acres for them. 
* De Grat. pr. hom. c. 14.  Bellarmin is very positive, and never read, he says, anywhere that the general Flood drowned it. Sure I am that the Scripture says, 
† Gen. 7. 19  All the high Hills under the whole Heaven were covered.  
III. Concerning the Site thereof, the place where it was planted by God (which is my third Inquiry) there are so many differences and odd fantasies, as to make it (as in all the rest, so) in this, an exact figure of the Heavenly one, and to typify too fitly the many Heresies and Wander in the search after this latter. Some place it in the middle of the Earth; some in Chaldea, Syria, Arabia foelix, India, Babylonia, the Isle of Eden; Bar Cepha upon an high Mountain above this habitable Earth, that reacheth up to the Moon; Origen in Heaven; others make it the whole Earth, (as if Adam, before he was brought into Paradise, must have been nowhere; and when he was banished out of Paradise, was banished out of the World) every place to be Paradise, before Sin entered with a Curse. I hear there is a Manuscript in Corpus Christi- Colledge-Library at Oxford, wherein it is said to have been found by Alexander the Great by the River Tigris; and that the way to it is therefore unknown, because if it should begin to be otherwise, it would be so resorted unto and filled in a short while with the Rich from all parts, that there would not be room left for a poor man. What credit this deserves, let the Reader judge as pleaseth him. I have not room to try the validity of these several Opinions which I have named; of which and many others, they that would be further satisfied, and are able, may consult such as are quoted in the 
‖ V Mosem Barcepha. Bibl. Patr. tom. 1. 405. Basil. Magn. Hom. de Parad. T. Aquin. Summ. par. 1. q. 102. Al. Lippoman. Catenam in Gen. f. 65. Suidam in Voce Paradisus. Ortelium in eadem Voce. Perer. Comment. in Gen. l. 3. Tremell. in c. 2. Gen. Mersenn. Grot. etc. in eund. loc. Bellarmin. de gratiâ primi hominis. Suarez l. 3. de opere sex dier. Delrio t. 1. Adag. 789. Malvend. de Paradiso. Sherlog. Antiq. Heb. l. 2. diss. 3. sect. 3. etc. W. Raleigh's Hist. World, c. 3.  Margin. Indeed, of all the numerous Relations and Opinions that I have met with, I do not think above two or three of them worth my taking notice of: Which I shall consider with as much brevity as they are capable of, after I have removed an Objection that would render all this Inquiry useless. There are some then that argue very plausibly, as if the general Deluge had so altered the face of the Earth, changing the currents of Rivers, that there is not left any possibility of finding out where the Earthly Paradise was. To this I readily agree (though I am not sure) that there might be a great alteration in the surface of the Earth; but I cannot be brought to believe that Moses, who wrote many hundred years after this Deluge, would have so particularly described its situation by Rivers and Countries not in being, or not as they were then. Havilath or Evila was known for a long while after, Eden for two thousand years, Ethiopia and Euphrates unto this very day. Wherefore there is not much doubt but that his Description was then understood by the Jews, when he writ his History. Besides, I shall prove hereafter that the knowledge of its true Site will conduce not a little to the more clear understanding of several noble less-heeded passages of Scripture. I do not reckon among these Objectors an ingenious Philosopher, who has upon this Subject very lately published his Thoughts, but shall give him among the Inquirers the first place.  
1. He hath happily gone a different way from all others in search after the 
Burneti Telluris Theoria Sacra, 1681.  Earthly Paradise, and without following the puzzling Maeanders of Rivers that are now but guessed at, hath used a strict and a Philosophical method. His Hypothesis or Supposition of this and the Deluge being all one, must therefore be considered together. I count that person not unworthy of the highest Commendations, who like him abstains from such proofs as are dubious, and in the most difficult and abstruse things so regularly follows the Guidance of Nature. None ever before him thought, by searching into the nature of what was proper to Paradise and to the Antediluvian World, a perpetual Spring, length of Life, and fertility of Soil, to decide this noble Question. Neither can these Phaenomena, or the Universal Deluge, be any otherwise than as he has laid down, tolerably explained. His Theory nevertheless I conceive might be somewhat mended: But though it be very bold, I do not think it in the least dishonourable to God; and I myself could strengthen it by more than one Argument, but am afraid to run out too far. He forgot indeed to provide for one great part of the Creation, the Fishes that cannot live out of salt water; which, in my opinion, might yet be done by the same Principles he uses. Now his Explication of the Deluge. notwithstanding it seems to overthrow what I have said, and am about to say, concerning Moses his description of the Site of this place, you shall see that it rather confirms it. He holds that this Moss of the Earth was then broken, and that we now inhabit only the Rubbish, as it were, and the Ruins of the first Happy Earth. But now as we can find where stood such or such Temples and ancient Edifices by their Ruins; so in like manner will the Ruins of Paradise show us the place where it was. Nay, this is so certain, that I must needs descent from this learned man, when he is against translating the Names in Moses, and thinks we are not sure either of Euphrates or Tigris, which are universally agreed upon to be meant in the Text. To what I just now said, I add, that there are Names and Descriptions of places in Ptolemy and Strabo, that are able to puzzle the most expert Modern Geographers; although their Writings are of a very inconsiderable Antiquity, in comparison with the Book of Genesis. Besides, it is plain that Moses, on purpose that he might be understood, uses not the old, but the new names by which the Places were called in his time; and some of which, if not all, were imposed a good while after the Flood, particularly Havilah and Cush, as may be proved out of Gen. 10. v. 6. & 29. Concerning Euphrates, I cannot see what reason there should be of doubting; for any one may as well suspect Roma not to be Rome, as Hu-Phrath not to be Euphrates. And that Hiddekel is Tigris, nothing can be more plainly made out, from Dan. c. 10. v. 4. I suppose therefore that Paradise took not up all the Southern Hemisphere, but only some part thereof, whence these Rivers had their Original: and in holding this, I do not much disagree with him. To search out which that part was, is not so easily done. Yet if we can learn certainly where Eden lies, we cannot be much out, though we should not prove able to show you the division of the River into four heads, in that the breaking of the Earth will easily solve that difficulty, if you please to consider it. An Italian Virtuoso who much after the same manner explains the Deluge by the sinking of Beds of Earth into the Abyss, says those places have remained so as they are from the Creation, whose Beds are unbroken and alike. Now in this Dissolution (if it be true) the greater parts must retain some likeness to what they were. Whence if there can be found a large, smooth, and unbroken Plain in the Aequinoctial, East of the Holy Land, in Eden, and watered by a River that may probably be supposed to be divided into four others, of a better Mould than any other Earth, and bearing a visible resemblance of the Primitive World; I judge it may reasonably be conjectured to have been either all, or a part of that Garden which was planted for our first Father. But for this, it is needful that we descend to more particular Inquiries.  
2. The most generally received Opinion is, that it was about Mesopotamia; and there lack not some probable Arguments to uphold this. But yet it is an upstart Opinion; and the Author, who lived about an hundred years ago and no longer, bragged that he had received it from neither Hebrews, Greeks, or Latins. Besides, though a great many Learned men maintain it, yet they almost all differ in this one from another; and they are hard put to it to derive Auranitis from Eden.  
3. But in my mind the most probable of any I have met with, as also the most agreeable to the Allegory I pursue in these Papers, is of Nicolaus Abram in his Discourse of the Rivers and place of Paradise: Where he is against such as seek for it out of the Holy Land, and conjectures its situation to have been there where the Sea of Galilee is, and the Convallis Illustris (so called from its preeminence above all other parts of the Country.) Who after that he has proved which are the Rivers understood in the Text, from their peculiar properties, the derivation of their Mosaic and their more common names, and the concurrent Testimony of sacred and profane Writers; after that he has made it probable that Jordan was the River which watered Paradise, and after it had watered it to be (by Con●…yances under ground) divided into the four other Rivers that Moses names, from its being sited in the midst of them, not running into the Sea, very sufficient Authority for all this from its name Jarden, contracted of Jaar-Eden the River of Paradise, and not from Jor and Dan; after also he has proved this most luxurious and rich Champaign in the whole World, and the Sea of Galilee (otherwise called the Lake of Gennesareth) to be in the Land of Eden, (as it is taken in the Scripture-acceptation) and in the East of the Holy Land, which Lot beheld to be well watered  as the Garden of the Lord, Gen. 13. 10. brought many Arguments, many pretty and surprising Etymologies; and to instance in one more of Gennesar or Gennesareth, he takes to be 'Gan Sar the principal Garden, the first, and the most beautiful Garden of the World: And after he has spoken of its wonderful Fertility and Pleasantness, mentioned an ancient Tradition credited both by the Learned of the Jews, and the Fathers and Doctors of the Christian Church, that Adam lived in Judea about Jerusalem, was buried in Calvary; concludes, that where the first Adam sinned, there it behoved the second Adam to expiate that sin: and that it was fit where sin entered the World, there it should be driven out. This was the place which was chief honoured with his presence, trodden with his sacred feet; here he lived and died, acted his Miracles, crushed the Serpent's head, opened Paradise where the first had shut it, gave admission into a Celestial and Intellectual Paradise, where the first was expelled a Sensual and an Earthly one; here stood his Cross, here it was planted by evil men, where stood the Tree of Life that was a Type of this. How fitly were the Waters of this River of Eden sanctified with his holy Body, that the virtue thereof might with those Streams diffund itself all over the Earth! It was a very ancient Opinion, that Paradise was in Palestine. St. Athanasius in his forty seventh Question Ad Antiochum, mentions two Opinions hereof; one 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  that it was in Jerusalem, (perhaps it should be in Judea) the other, that it was in Heaven. Which proves that it was believed of old: and though the Father think it unreasonable to believe so, because he says Adam was expelled it, and yet was buried there; this does not refute but confirm me rather that it was near thereabouts, and according to all probability Eastward in Judea. Though I might allege a Tradition as old as the former, of his Corpse being carried by Noah into the Ark, and afterward by him interred; whence it cannot be a Contradiction to affirm that he was expelld Paradise, and buried there when it was no longer so. Nor is it very unlikely it should be thus. But if this were so, then must it have reached as far as Jerusalem; which whether it did or did not, makes not against what I have said. If we had but some such Description or Map of Palestine as is mentioned in the 18th of Joshua, I fancy it might be possible thereby to unperplex and unfold all the Difficulties and Bussles about this grand Question. This Opinion, as it has all the advantages of the rest, so it has none of the disadvantages; it being made Consonant both to the Philosophy of that worthy Person I named a little before, and to the accurate Criticisms and Geography of the ablest Studiers in the Art. There are, besides those whom the industrious Reviver of this Opinion reckons up, to prove it to be neither novel nor singular, many Modern Authors, who though they do not place Paradise in Canaan, do yet place Canaan in Paradise, taking into it Babylonia, Syria, Damascus, Palestine, and all that part of Minor Asia: one of them, whom I cannot call to mind, expressly, I think, names Jerusalem; and almost all the Arguments which are brought to prove it to have lain in Mesopotamia, or by Babylon, or any of those places, will serve as well to prove it to have lain in this place. I do suppose that Eden received its name from Paradise being there, and that it might be much larger than it is now supposed to be; till that part of it receiving new names, lost the old name, which might be the reason that there came to be two eden's, they being only two small parts of the old Eden yet retaining its name. But now I am rambling about this Delicious and Spicy Eden, I cannot yet find the way out. As to the Easterly situation of this Garden. S. Athanasius in the place , has a Fancy thereupon extraordinary Poetical, and which I take to be more expressive of its Riches and its Pleasures, than those Descriptions the most Fanciful Poets can give of their Elysium; viz. That from hence about the Oriental parts of India there are every where such fragrant scents, and that the Spices receive their Odours as if blown from that happy place. Which is good Poetry enough, (though too light for him:) and Milton has it,  

— Now gentle Gales  
Fanning their odoriferous Wings, dispense  
Native Perfumes, and whisper whence they stole  
Those balmy spoils.—   
Thus have I shown you, according to what I promised, the goodly and beautiful Ruins of the most beautiful place that ever was; led you into this Eastern Eden, this illustrious and holy Vale: and here I could pluck you many a Flower, but that I am in haste, and must be gone. Only I add three things more that I had almost forgot. First, this was the Promised Land; and it is natural to conceive that Faith and Obedience should give just Abraham a Promise to the place, whence Disbelief and Disobedience had thrust out his Progenitor. Secondly, All the Allegories of a future State, Canaan, Jerusalem, Zion, City of God, Temple, holy Mountain, Mountain of God; Ghe-Hinnom, Tophet, the Lake, are taken from the Holy Land; and thence too very likely Paradise. Thirdly, That which thousands of years after remained the Garden of the World, may, I think (by no unreasonable supposal) be thought before the Deluge to have been so too. I have thus given as short an account as I well could of the Site of the Terrestrial Paradise; with submission to the Learned. Now I am of this Opinion; hereafter I may either alter, or confirm it.  
iv It is thought that until Esdras his time, by Paradise the Jews understood always this place, and then began first to signify by it that of future Blessedness. For it being very hard for them to conceive an Intellectual Heaven, who were wedded so fast to an Earthly Canaan, they were forced to depaint Celestial Joys by what they counted most Celestial upon Earth, (not able to think on the higher and ecstatick Delights of unbodied Spirits) and to give them the name of that which was likest to, and typically expressive of them. All Nations never so barbarous, expected beyond the Grave a place free from Storms and Tempests, sited above the noise and hurricanes, chances and perturbations of this Sublunary World, the Refrigerium of their Fathers, and Righteous Spirits; which they described by delightsome Groves, and cool Shades, and pleasant Meadows, and flowery Walks. Thus because they could not otherwise, they strove to decipher them by whatsoever they rated highest, and estimated dearest; by Fields, and Gardens, and Fountains; Feasts, and Music, and Merriments. But hence too (for nothing there is but may be corrupted) sprang the brutish and fond Conceits of another State, the Turks hellish Paradise, and the fancied Loosenesses and Revels that a rude Indian hopes for. Yet in making this blessed Paradise of our first Parents, the Type and Figure of our Heaven, there can be no danger of any such sinful or gross, unchristianlike or disparaging thought thereof. For how is it possible for any one to fool himself into an expectation of sensual Joys, who considers that it was Sensuality which drove out hence Adam and Eve? or to keen his Appetite for Gluttonous Treats, when but a taste of an Apple cost them so dear? The Type and the Antitype do resemble each other so, that Guiltiness, as well as Misery, is excluded out of both: Both were planted by God; nought but Innocence can ensure either, and lack of this is certain expulsion out of both: Then the one and the other is a Paradise of Pleasure (as the vulgar Latin and Chaldee Paraphrast renders it) prepared a principio from the beginning, without any premerit of man; a most free and undeserved Donative. It is an Axiom, I remember, of the Schoolmen, 
* Ea quae de Paradiso in Scripturan dicuntur, in modum narrationis historicè proponuntur. In omnibus autem quae hîc Scriptura tradit, pro fundamento tenenda est veritas historiae, & desuper spirituales expositiones fabricandae. Thom.  That in whatsoever the Scripture delivers to us concerning Paradise, the truth of the History is to be believed in the first place, and then Spiritual Expositions and Allegories to be made of the same. Beside, this noble and universally received Metaphor which I use, has the Authorization and Warranty of the Holy Spirit, and is in a manner sanctified by the Pens of inspired and sacred Writers, by the Mouth of our very Lord, his most gracious Donation and dying Promise, not unto the Thief alone, but alike unto all believing Penitents.  
§ 8. There are some who take it, 1. for a place distinct from the third Heaven, and a part of Hades; into which our Saviour went, Luke 23. 43. before he ascended into Heaven, Joh. 20. 17. the State of Rest of the blessed Souls before the Resurrection. 2. In a more comprehensive sense, for the general State of Bliss both before and after the Resurrection. In which last acceptation I here use it. We are all much taken with this same place, and need not the instigation of the Proverb to bid us 
† 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  seek out Paradise: all of us have an inbred desire after Pleasure, but almost infinite are our Mistakes in the pursuit thereafter; whence I presume it will not be thought an unfriendly Office to tell where and how it may be found. Indeed the Author cannot pretend to Revelations, the being wrapped up thither with St. Paul, or with St. John, the having seen with the Popish Saints any of its Roses shower down from thence: He is not about to verify the strange Rambling in the Cave of St. Patrick, or any such Tales in the Papal Church or Jewish Synagogue; the Legendary- Travels of an Irish St. Brandon, or the 
* Jehoshua.  forementioned Rabbin. Nor needs he: for it was 
† Clausa est per peccatum, & per Christi passionem aperta est janua Coelestis Paradisi.  opened long since by the death of Christ: and we have as fair and exact a Chart of it and the way, as God himself thought not unbecoming him to draw. One would therefore think this were Discovery enough, or at least that after well-nigh seventeen hundred years were passed, all our Disputes and Controversies about it should have been decided, and the way unto Happiness not now any longer to be sought for: That all would have agreed about this which is their everlasting Concern; have proved no less unanimous (more successful) in their Search, than in their Wishes for it: That every one would have taken up the Cross of Christ that is both light and comfortable, and followed him thither; that none could refuse his Yoke that is so easy and pleasant. But a most deplorable truth it is, and incredible, that men should notwithstanding study to banish themselves the Paradise of God: After they have touched the Tree of Death, refuse to be healed with the Leaves of the Tree of Life; counting it impossible to enjoy themselves, without being thrust out from the Garden of Pleasures.   

SECTION II.  
THe pious and excellent Labours of many Religious Writers, have hitherto in vain strove to encounter so prodigious and prevailing a Folly. These, they who need, read not; or if they do, they can perhaps in a Rational or an Eloquent Discourse, observe the neatness and the good manag'ry of the Author, and that is all. This cannot but be more than enough to disencourage any one from so unprosperous an Attempt again, and to show him the vanity of endeavouring either an Union in Faith, or a Reformation in Manners. But I know many whose weak queasy Fancies cannot digest that which is convincing and solid, who witted yet be easily persuaded to divert themselves with looking over a Romance. They who despise the ungentile Ethics of a dull Aristotle, and the dry abrupt stile of a short-lunged Seneca, (to use their own Expressions) will be the more apt to take into their hands this trivial Piece. And perhaps it may be somewhat the more conducive, because it is sent from a Secular and Uninterested Hand.  
§ 2. The Benefit and the Instructiveness of History, and of the Lives of Worthy Persons▪ is no less universally, than deservedly acknowledged to be very Great. Yet we know the Historian is so tied to the Laws of Truth, that he must tell you, if he does as he ought, as well the Faults of him he writes of, as his Virtues; so that commonly he is far enough from setting you forth a perfect and just Exemplar. Now here is none of that disadvantageousness; nor is this Allegorical way of writing either improper, or new. It is storied of Chosroes King of Persia, that he employed the diligence and the secrecy of one of his faithfullest Servants, and almost emptied his Exchequer, but to gain a copy of a small Piece that was Parabolically written. And this was so prized by the Indian Gymnosophists, that they held it piacular to reveal the same to a Stranger.  
§ 3. Thus was the Theology, and thus also was the Philosophy of the Ancients taught; whence some have writ large Volumes of the Heathen Mythology. Thus has Xenophon given the pattern of an excellent Prince, and Plato of a Commonwealth; and we have the latter ones of New Atlantis, Utopia, Severambi, etc. Not to instance in the Tales of Chaucer, the Legends of Spencer, and the jocular Visions of Quevedo, Pasquin, Heraclito-Democritus, and others: what hath been done this way by B. Hall, (under the name of Mercurius Britannicus) Baker, Crashaw, Patrick, and Glanvil, is I think well enough approved of. And surely this same way, though seemingly so, cannot by judicious men be esteemed light and useless, when the divinest Philosopher that ever writ, thought he could not better infuse into the minds of his Readers what he wished, than under the person of his Socrates: nor the greatest Orator, than under the persons of his Cotta and others: not to go farther, and allege the Parables of Christ, the Allegories of the Prophets, the Typical Histories and Ceremonies of the Old Testament, the sacred Poems of Tobit and Judith; which are so many just Apologies for my Undertaking. I am of the opinion, that Religion and Good Manners are not to be taught just like a Science, by Rules and Precepts, or in a Scholastic dress, but rather by Examples: I never yet heard of any whom Aristotle's Ethics converted. This is the difference; the one way is dead and without any Spirit, liveless and unmoving; but this is animated and full of vigour, having a soul and life in it, and powerfully affecting. The Learned and the Ignorant are both alike moved hereby: it is so cogent, that 'tis able to work upon the most judicious and the most wise; and yet so plain, that 'tis apt to take with the most Rude and Vulgar: fit for every one, but chief for the Ingenious.  
§ 4. This was the ancient Poetry, before ever it was confined to Verse. At length it was brought not only into the Drama, but also the Epic Poem; whence of the last sort Homer and Hesiod, Virgil and Ovid, have two of them given us the most noble and the most adequate Images of Heroic Virtue, and the other two not less delightful and instructive Figments. Wherefore I cannot agree to those who make it as late as the irruption of the barbarous Nations into Italy. It is true, that then it grew into greatest credit with the Soldiers; but I nowhere learn that the wild Germans brought it along with them thither, or that any besides the Italians themselves used it; whence it is said to receive the name of Romanzo, and Fabula Romana. I have already exceeded the measure of that Discourse I intended, and therefore cannot stay to give you an account of its progress from the Jews, Egyptians, Indians, Persians, Arabians, Moors, Spaniards—. The last I named were so addicted to this sort of Wit, that one of them (I mean the Author of Quichot) hath in the same stile writ a satire against them. Which in Spain growing so in vogue, hath passed thence into most of the Nations of Europe, though still made worse by transplantation, and very much abused to wanton and mean Subjects. And if we may take an estimate from the mischief it hath done now it is corrupted, the good must certainly be very great which we are to expect when once it is reform: That which hath done the Devil such service, will, I hope, if wrested from him, do God as much; and it will be a cunning artifice thus to wound him with his own Weapons.  
§ 5. The Reader has now seen the Motives and the Reason of my putting Pen to Parer. Wherefore I call this a PILGRIMAGE, is from the frequent comparison in the holy Scriptures of God's Law to a Way which leads to everlasting Life. This has been heretofore attempted by several, though they have not kept closely to the Metaphor. There is extant the Scala Paradisi of an uncertain Author, in the ninth Tome of S. Austin' s Works; and Robertus de Sorbona (Penitentiary to Lewis the Ninth of France, surnamed the Saint, and Founder of the Sorbon- College) in the Bibliotheca Patrum, calls a little Tract of his, Iter Paradisi; Bonaventure has besides his Itinerarium, the Seven Journeys of Eternity; Bernardinus hath writ De Paradisi Acquirendi Viâ. But herein they have proved unhappy, and are not worth much. The Itinerarium Paradisi of Giraldus in Italian, which I have not seen, I guess to be much after this manner, only more like a Journal or an exact Diary than this; and like unto the Victory of Divine Love, a short Romance written by the Sieur de Nerveze, Secretary of the Chamber to Henry the Fourth of France, wherein he handsomely draws the Loves of Polydore and Virgin, (under them two representing the Skirmishes of worldly Pleasure, against Seraphical;) and divides into seven Days or Sections. But truly nothing that I have yet met with in this kind, is in the least able to compare with the Critic of Gracian, or the Pilgrim of our Dean of Peterburgh. But this last worthy Person limiting himself to the Needs of a private Friend, is not of so general use as could be wished. Perhaps there was never one better accomplished for such a design than the late B. Taylor, whose extraordinary Eloquence and Sweetness must here needs have been very proper. The last Lord Orrery had indeed a Genius fitted for this; his handsome Style, Fancy and Piety are, by as many as read those excellent Composures of his, not unworthily applauded; and had not Death prevented, we might probably have seen such Productions from his noble Muse. But our great disparity has not disencouraged me from setting about, and laying this Foundation to a much bigger Superstructure: In which my intent is to handle otherwise than by any Pen hath yet, all the Virtue's Moral and Divine; their contrary Vices; the Passions; the rise of Errors; the discovery of the Truth; both the Pleasures of, and the Instruments whereby, to attain an Habitual Piety; with all or most the Cases that can befall not only a private Christian, but the whole Catholic Church, and every Order of Men within it. The Reader therefore must not think strange, if he meets with some Passages here and there which are little more than References to the following Parts.  
§ 6. Now if this finds not a too hard reception, hereafter may be expected, under the person of Theosophus, the Character completed of a holy and wise Prelate; under the persons of Orthodoxus and Eubulus, of an Apostolic and pious Clergy; under Uranius, of a Divine Poet; Euistor, of a Sacred Critic; Ephorinus, of a Contemplative Philosopher: for a loyal Soldier, Cratander; for a worthy Statesman, Nestorius; for a just Judge, Diceus; for a good Physician, Lucas; and Spudeus and Philoponus, for honest Plebeians: The highest Love of God exemplified in Theophilus, Humility in Chamalus, Temperance in Sophron, Chastity in Parthenius, Vigilance in Nephalius, Charity and Hospitality in Eleutherius, an aged Piety in Eusebius, and on early Piety in the Child Erastus: Devout Widowhood in Priscilla, Holy Virginity in Parthenia, and Parental Care in Christina; and so in the rest. For it is a common truth, the very sad experience of every day, that we are sooner prevailed upon by Examples, than by never so excellent Precepts and Discourses. And certainly, our Saviour (as a late ingenious Writer hath it) could as well have given the moral common places of uncharitableness and Humbleness, as the divine Narration of Dives and Lazarus; or of Disobedience and Mercy, as that excellent Discourse of the lost Child and the gracious Father, but that he knew the Estate of Dives burning in Hell, and Lazarus in Abraham ' s bosom, would more constantly inhabit both the Memory and Judgement. As for me, I can conceive nothing more moving, than to have a Prodigal represented feeding upon the Husks and the Wash of Swine. Nay, methinks it should make every one that has run so far parallel with him as to waste their Estates with riotous living, Luke c. 15. v. 13. to return also and say, Father, I have sinned against Heaven,— v. 21. Let both the severest Stoic, and the Ciceronian, and most eloquent Orator, at once lay out all their Art and their Passion, their Arguments and Ratiocination in declaiming against Luxury; it will at last come extremely short of this one instance (duly considered) of the Rich Man praying for a drop of water to cool his tongue, cap. 16. 24. Whensoever also I read the Parable of the lost Sheep, I am a great deal more moved at the love of my God, and the rejoicing in Heaven of the holy Angels at the Conversion of a Sinner, than I am with all the intricate Disputes of Grace and Predestination betwixt Metaphysical Airy Divines. Whence this good Shepherd laying his found Sheep upon his shoulders with joy, v. 5. hath ever been by pious men made an Emblem of the World's Redeemer. What shall I say of him who being forgiven his 
* Matth. 18. 24. A thousand Talents amounts to 1870500 l. Sterling, and the hundred Denarii to 3 l. 2 s. 6 d. which is calculated to be above five hundred thousand to one. A very vast disproportion. See Dr Hammond.  ten thousand Talents, would not have patience with a poor Fellow-servant for but the paying of an hundred pence? Can any thing livelier express, or powerfullier curb, our Ingratitude to God? I should have thought that nothing could have possibly more commended to the Disciples of the blessed Jesus Charity and mutual Forbearance, than this Saying of his, If you forgive men their Trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you yours: but if you forgive not men, no more—; till I read this home and pressing Instance, this reasonable and irresistible (one would think) Incentive to Gratitude: and had marked the great cogent Argument, and more cogent Terror, here couched in a neglected Parable.  
§ 7. And as for my part, notwithstanding the Clamours that are made against it, I can find no harm in the so-much-despised Story of Tobit. Whether it be a Fiction (as is very probable) or else real History (as the Jews would have it) it matters not at all. I can scarce think of any thing (besides the Historical Poem of holy Job) that can more encourage a good man (for so Tobit in the Hebrew signifieth) than the Rewards and Blessings of his Piety, and the notice taken of it in Heaven. Nothing ever comforts and enlarges my heart more, than that the Angels are ministering Spirits to our good: and sure when I read how one of them condescended to be a Servant, and to travel along with an honestly-educated Youth, to drive away from him Asmodeus the Spirit of Unchastity, and cure the Blindness and Infirmity of his good Parents; I cannot but be above measure raised up with devout joy, and rapturous Sentiments hereof.  
§ 8. The pious and ingenious Fancy through the Book of Judith, which Grotius hath discovered and rendered more than probable, is not only delightful, but might be also of great use unto the People of God in their Afflictions. I hope I am not over-partial in what I here say: for though I know that the Lord will one time or other deliver his Church, and that he is able by never so weak means to bring the greatest things to pass; yet am I more than ordinarily elevated, and confirmed herein, if I chance but to read the strange deliverance of the Bethulians, and what great powers were defeated by the hands of a Woman. Questionless when Jerusalem was beleaguered by the numerous Army of Antiochus, there lacked not (as is usual, and not unpolitical) Consolatory Discourses to keep up the Spirits of the Inhabitants from Despair. But sure nothing could be more proper, more sweetly affecting and comfortable to them, than to have their 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Gens Judea.  Country Judea represented by a beautiful Widow under the name of Judith; the Devil their potent Adversary, by 
† Nabuchodonosor Hebraeis saepè Diabolum significat, & Assyria fastum. Grot. ib.  Nabuchodonosor; their 
‖ 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Bathulia, Templum Dei Jah.  Temple, by Bethulia; and by the 
* Gladius inde egrediens, preces Sanctorum.  Sword thereof their Prayers ascending into Heaven; by 
† 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Holophernes, Lictor Serpentis.  Holophornes, (i. e.) the the Instrument of the Serpent, Antiochus. I cannot but conjecture that these pretty Similes did work upon them, and conduce somewhat (at least) towards their Delivery, the expulsion of the Enemy, and of Idolatry: and might perhaps make Judas Maccabeus with his small Band courageous and victorious. Nor is this so very unlikely, since every one knows what effect but the Story of Menen. Agrippa had, how it appeased the furious Rabble, kept a great People from Ruin: and that of the Prophet Nathan saved a great King from destruction.  
§ 9 The Additions to Daniel and Esther, the Apocryphal Books of Esdras and Baruch, considering their several Repugnances with History, Inconsistences with the Canon of holy Writ, and newness of their Style, should they be read as sincere and authentic Narrations of the Truth, would not only woefully therein deceive the Reader, but force him by an unhappy consequence to throw away his Bible, to quit for these the sacred and truer Records which were preserved in the Ark. But whosoever reads them as mere Fictions, as he cannot be deceived, so likewise he will reap that Pleasure and Profit which otherwise he might have sought for in vain. For looking upon them as humane Composures, I find Excellencies in them which are scarce to be matched elsewhere. The contrivance of some of them (particularly of Susanna) if not exceeds, equals at least, I may well say, that of the best wrought Romance I have ever seen. Not to speak of the several parts which are there exactly observed, I cannot think what is joyfullier surprising, than so clear and unexpected a Vindication (as is there related) of condemned Innocence: that can forceablier encourage us to embrace for a short while Reproach and Shame for the sake of Virtue, by representing thus to us the Providence of an Allseeing God, and his Care over us. But of these I may have occasion in some other Papers to speak more at large.  
§ 10. The Church of Rome by her Legends, her ridiculous Forgeries, (or rather) the imposition of them, has given her own Cause a greater Wound, than could the Weapons of her stoutest Adversaries. Certainly nothing can be more absurd, or an Imposture more barefaced, than the imposing such apparent Falsities and Incredibilities, such whimsical idle Dreams of melancholy Devotees, for Truths: Nothing more amazing and less profitable, than to give for Patterns such miraculous unimitable Saints. So if in those Stories the Authors had contained themselves within the bounds of Probability, and had a little better penned them, declaring them to be feigned Relations; I am apt to believe they might have been a means to bring Practical Christianity more into the Lives of men. More modest and of greater use are the 
* Printed at Rome 1666, after Pachymer his Michael Paleologus.  Ichnelatae of the old Indians, the Apologues of Lochman, Aesop, Phedrus, and the moral Picture of Cebes the Pythagoraean, with the Draughts and Emblems of Poets and Painters.  
§ 11. Ariosto (and after him our English Spencer) from whom his sort of Verse, which is the Stanza of eight, was called Romansi, hath run into another extreme, filled his Cantos with Monsters, Phantoms, and Chimerical Descriptions of things; which though never so good, are very unbecoming, and agree not with the Laws of Poetry. Both these ways, which would take away the Imitableness of what I writ, I shall studiously avoid. And for this reason I have laid the Scene thereof as near these Times as I can; that so it may be thought to belong the more unto them. Not but that I see it would be freer from Censure, were it not thus adapted to our present necessities: Should I have put it back as far as the first flourishing Age of the Church, it would have been thought not to concern these depraved Times: My Pilgrims in their antiquated Garbs, could not in so fashionable an Age as this have looked for any to imitate them, and their Piety would have appeared even more ridiculous and out-dated than their Dress.  
§ 12. But I am confident none of the sober Sons of the Church of England will be angry with me for taxing the Immoralities of some of those who professed themselves to be of her Communion; and that the more modest Dissenters from her will not be at all displeased to be told into what Calamities Enthusiasm and the Pretensions to the holy Spirit hurried us. I have so great a Veneration for some of their Persons, that it would be the highest disingenuity to misinterpret this as a satire upon them. For any one may see that even then when occasion most offers itself, I avoid that Bitterness which, were my design but to please, would tickle a great many Readers. Therefore have I left out of the eleventh Chapter, the Consult and the Transactions of the Church of Bethaven; that so nothing of that bitter Spirit which continually widens our Divisions, and which I so much dislike, should be charged upon me. For if Michael disputing against Satan, the chief of Angels against the chief of Devils, durst not bring against him a Railing Accusation; how much, good God, have we Christians and Brethren to answer for, who at so strange a rate revile and worry each other! Here I can no longer contain my Passion. Shall we, so nearly and holily related, incorporated into the same mystical Body Christ Jesus, tear one another and ourselves, and out do the greatest Hostilities betwixt Heaven and Hell?  
§ 13. Having now tired you with a long Apparatus, let me only tell you, I have chose in these following Sheets to be lose and immethodical, without tying myself to any Rules of Order, but occasionally interspersing Meditation with Story, so to ease the minds of those who are not used to read Books of Piety: But even in those places where I seem to be most Poetical, and solely designing Delight, I endeavour to move some devout Passion, and do try whether I can stir up that the more easily, when the Springs are unseen. Now if I can hereby direct any one to find out Paradise, or persuade him to travel thither, into that purer and happier Climate, I have mine end.    

To the READER.  
PErhaps thou mayst be offended at the Tenth Chapter of this Book; which I at first foresaw, and have taken care, by parting it into Sections, lest it should prove burdensome. If thou canst not relish such Raptures, I advise thee to read it by Parts, or else to omit it the first time, and pass over to the next. But I promise thee, if thou canst but raise thyself up to a fit pitch to utter it affectionately, thou shalt there perceive more Sweetness than in the whole Book besides.   

THE CONTENTS.  

THe Introduction.  
CHAP. I. The Retirement.  
CHAP. II. The Prospect of the World.  
CHAP. III. Theosophus meditates on the Folly and Misery of the World, and thence takes occasion to run out into the Praises of Paradise.  
CHAP. IU. His Vision.  
CHAP. V What immediately thereupon fell out. His Persecution.  
CHAP. VI A remarkable Accident which during his Concealment happened to him.  
CHAP. VII. The Penitent's Sickness and Signs of Recovery.  
CHAP. VIII. The Mystical Feast unto which Theosophus carries his Charge.  
CHAP. IX. The Penitents Regeneration.  
CHAP. X. An Eucharistical Meditation.  
CHAP. XI. The Fruits of Eubulus his Mission.  
CHAP. XII. Timotheus relates his Travels unto the Burning Vale of Tophet.  
CHAP. XIII. The Religions: or a continuation of the Travels of Timotheus.  
CHAP. XIV. The Vision of Tophet.    

THE Situation OF PARADISE Found out  

The Introduction.  
NOT long since, when the whole Order of the Universe, by our huge massy Crimes, began to be inverted, and this noble Fabric of the Creation did by degrees moulder into something worse than nothing: When relapsed Humanity was beyond compare both vicious and miserable: When the Land of our Nativities lay waste and polluted, and not any Climate but bred unwholesome Air: When we saw the deadliest Impieties and foulest Lusts slain every, and the most sacred place; terrible Earthquakes overturn the Temples of our God; the fair and lofty Trees fall, the best Fruits blited, the Fountains in Israel dried up, and every thing, through sin, decay apace, and make haste to destruction: When Pride, and Envy, and Prejudice so biased, as they had within a little like to have overthrown the World; and the great Mass we tread on groaned under the heavy pressures of Sacrilege, Rapine, Fraud, Perjury, Murder, and all the weightiest and most intolerable Evils: When herewith arose such a Storm in the North as made the poor afflicted Church of Christ flee into the Wilderness: When Truth and Peace were also forced to leave us, when they both bad the ungrateful Earth adieu, and when all that was just or holy disappeared: When Happiness finally was nowhere to be had, so long controverted until we had quite lost it; the true Site of PARADISE which every one did pretend to know, harder still than ever to be found; There lived a man (if it be not rather a note of infamy for him to be called man, who could, and durst, in those times be) Constant, Wise, and Pious: who lacked not Resolution to attempt the greatest things, nor Discretion to choose the best methods to further such his attempts; and could direct himself aright through all the mazes and the chances of a variable and deceitful World: of unsullied Integrity and divine Knowledge, Angelical in his Life, and Primitive in his Faith: a reverend aged Seer wholly untainted with the corruptions of so degenerate an Age, whom had you known, you would have said, with me, he was a person of as gallant a Spirit as ever lived, as far elevated above the rest of mankind as they were now beneath themselves degraded, and thought him able even to transform that viperous and depraved Race of Mortals: a person every way so qualified, as if he had been prepared on purpose by the divine Mercy for no meaner Erterprises than the restitution of Beauty and Holiness to the polluted and tottering Machine of this lower World, and the transmutation of these very dregs of Time into the Golden Age of Innocence and Love.  
Were it not for the strangest obstinacy of men imaginable, so excellent a Change as this could never have been long deferred; nor had the putting an end to the Disputes about, and guiding Travellers safely into an ever-delicious PARADISE, been looked upon as a sleeveless Errand in our great Hero. Now as for the first, to effect this Change, methinks our endeavours and our wishes ought not to be idle. I desire to appeal to the breasts of all my Readers, whether they think any thing can be in itself more desirable. I do not believe any one can tell what is more reasonable, or of a more ravishing nature than this; or (if we ourselves please, and refuse not to give it the concurrence of our Will) more possible also, or accompanied with Difficulties more conquerable. Whereas it is no wonder if our Aversion can make things appear harder much than they are in themselves. We are unwilling, and therefore presently we complain it is not easy enough. Whilst we are grovelling upon Earth, we hate to look up to the Regions of eternal Glory, our celestial CANAAN. Nay, though it is impossible to be happy otherwise, we refuse to be happy so. This is such a folly, and so common to most of us; (I am sorry I must say so, or give it such a name) as the few sober Pilgrims of this present Age think they can never enough admire, nor enough lament.  
Hope I will, however, that this honest Conductor may now find better acceptance than he did from that stiff Generation; and that those who chance to turn over these Sheets will not be unkind, at once, both to themselves and him. But I hope herein they will prove themselves (what many are so ambitious to be thought) persons of Ingenuity and Generosity; that they will embrace him for their Friend, and be content for vast unproportionable Felicities, to part with a foolish unbenefitting Habit, which may be shaken off, though it stick never so close. If but some bold Spirits among the witty Ralliers of the Age should begin this, and study to expose Profaneness to ridicule and contempt, and to drive it out by laughing, as they brought it in; it might be expected that Vice in a while would become as dishonourable as Virtue is now, and this latter obtain the upper hand among all the men of sense. Hereby would they gain credit to themselves, and much more than by going in the common tract. So might this so blessed an alteration be effected, all things prepared for our transmigration hence; and so might (which is the design of the following History) this excellent person in after-Ages bear the honourable title of Leader of many Families and Tribes unto the HOLY LAND, the glorious place of everlasting Love and Happiness.  
I shall not trace him through the several Stages of his Life, but begin his Story then when the aforesaid Storm arising in the North, during the late unhappy Commotions and subversion of Christian Piety, he was deserted by every one, worried up and down, pillaged, turned out of all that little which he held but by the (than weak) tenure of Divine Right, maliciously defamed and blackened in his Name, brought even into public Courts, his best deeds misinterpreted, and his very Piety (most of all) slandered: his Friends or Followers either seduced or forced from him; hated even by those to whom he would have done the greatest good, universally slighted, ungratefully, barbarously treated by his dissenting Neighbours, and so brought at length to the utmost extremities of Indigence and Misery.   

CHAP. I.  
The Retirement.  
MAny years had this Reverend Sire seen pass over his head, all which were spent in the exercises of his duty, and sanctified by the severities of a strict Piety and an holy Religion; many brave heroic Achievements he had performed; nothing he lest undone to bring back the dissolute Worldlings from out the ways of sin and error, of blindness and an undiscerned death; he had gallantry of Soul enough to stand in the Gap against all opposition, and boldly to resist the deviation in the Multitude; and he strove as much as in him lay, to reduce the Church, under which he lived, into its primitive Order and Purity.  
Now finding all his pains and methods successless, himself lying under an heavy Interdict of the usurping Senate, and ready to be banished the Island Albina, he resolves to withdraw a little, and hid himself in the close retreats of a Country-Shade; there to try in the last place whether or no the rustic Boors and Shepherds had forgot their honest simplicity, shaken off their old rural Innocence and Plainness.  
Several leagues had he left behind the Royal City Megalopolis, and having passed above a days journey through nought but desolate and waste grounds, he came at last into a most delicious Plain, or Grove, or Garden, call it which you please, overlooked by the tops of the Hills, and shaded by the pretty wild disorder of the Trees; which made it appear the Seat of pleasant Solitariness and delightful Melancholy. A very rich lovely Champagn it was, bestrewed with the green and flowery Tapestry of the Spring, and set off by the careful hand of Providence with all the delicacies that Nature ever afforded; most curiously enameled with inartificial Beds of Violets and Heliotropes, interspersed with the Anemony, the Hyacinth, and the Primrose. And by the four Arms of a small rivulet, it was parted into as many pretty Isles. But that which commended it above all was, that it appeared not to be freque●…ed or trodden by any men; wherefore he was glad to find himself at last a resling place, in which he thought to spend the poor remainder of his days. And designed (as did heretofore the 
* Gen. 21. 33.  first Father of Religious Pilgrims) to consecrate this Grove into a Temple, and turn every Tree into an Oratory, using the Boughs for Hosannas to the Son of David, and Directions of the way to those that follow after.  
Here the pensive and melancholy Hermit delighted to walk; and still at every step he made some progress 
The Contemplative Life.  towards a better and a more lasting Scene of Pleasures. Every thing he saw, added fuel to the pious ardours of his Soul, caused him to long for the Mansions of Eternity; that Spiritual Eden which he beheld faintly, as it were, reflected upon this spot of Land: Sometimes would he listen to the Music of the little chanting Birds, those vocal Choristers of the Air, and with them join concert in a sprightly Carol to the King of Heaven: And sometimes again the bleating innocent Animals that were grazing upon the neighbouring Hills, made him pity his own disconsolate and scattered Flock (committed to him indeed by the good Shepherd of Men, but) rapaciously stolen from him some while since by Thiefs in a Pastoral disguise. Now casting his eyes Heavenward, (as if his divinely ravished Soul had eager long to break her fleshy Gaol, and take flight thitherwards to that her Native Country, those pure unsullied Regions of Tranquillity and Joy;) he stood long contemplating on the admirable Beauty, the wonderful unconceivable Architecture of the Aetherial Orbs, the dazzling light and splendour of the Sun; till wearied with too much intention, at last he looked down, and at his feet he saw the Sun and whatsoever else in the Heavens he had with pleasure observed, to reflect their Images and glass themselves in those little beautiful Canals of running-water. So now he had two Worlds, and two Suns to contemplate; the one real, the other reflected: Which made him with sorrow think of those poor Souls who care not to look up so high as the Paradise in the highest Heavens, where are the only real and permanent Mansions of Felicity; but downward upon one that is no other but reflected and imaginary: Which whilst they strive to obtain, they do but grasp the very appearance of a watery Shadow, and thereby foolishly drown and destroy themselves; meeting with, instead of Happiness, a dismal Disappointment, cold unexpected Death. But quite otherwise, these shadowy Representations made him the better fix his mind upon Realities: these scanty Streams, shallow Crystal Currents, could send him to the Waters above the Firmament, the Rivers of Delight which are at God's right hand. So that, by contemplation on and foretaste of those Joys above, he almost thinks himself already here imparadised; which Solitude would the rather persuade him to think no mistake: Here Pison and Hiddekel, Gihen and Phrath, were before his eyes. Nay, every Plant, every spire of Grass, the most neglected Flower, the most ordinary Herb, the smallest Insect, had all some kind of Image of a Deity enstamped on them. There was somewhat of Paradise he fancied in whatever he saw; and well might that place be counted Paradise, which could boast of the truly virtuous THEOSOPHUS, (so was he called.) In this manner viewing a pleasant Vale, which another might perhaps have looked upon barely to feed his eye, or recreate his sense, he drew thence a Map of the Celestial Temple. Whereof he was thus already possessed in imagination and picture.  
Now it happened as he was thus meditating with himself, he lighted unawares into a Path. He straight knew himself mistaken concerning the loneliness of the place; which he was soon further convinced of by reading several small Histories of Christian Palmers and religious Conferences, cut in the rinds of the Trees, with the names of EUBULUS and ORTHODOXUS underwritten; many Hymns and Verses composed in praise of Virtue, Raptures of a pure Celestial Love, and passionate Burn of an Heavenly Muse sighing after the Joys of PARADISE; under all which was subscribed VRANIUS.  
Hence the Pious Father over-joyful, presently knew that it must needs be the Retreat of these his Friendly Coadjutors; and big with hopes, expected to find them here. And so he did: For not long had he sought them, before he heard the hacking of Axes hewing down the Trees all round about, and observed the narrow Rivulets to begin to be tainted unnaturally with a bloody colour; when not far off he could descry his three dearest Friends, with their hands bound, hurried away Prisoners, followed with shouts and reviling acclamations; with loud outcries of Heresy against the most moderate and learned ORTHODOXUS; against EUBULUS of distasteful and pernicious Advice; and impure and doggril Rhymes they, as maliciously, laid to divine VRANIUS his charge.  
One would have thought, that to have ones greatest and fiercest hopes thus on a sudden disappointed, had been enough to cast a sad damp over the most courageous Spirit that ever was. But all this could not in the least distemper the Spirit of the stout and the wise THEOSOPHUS, who (that he mighty hereby teach us that the greatest evils and most surprising accidents, do much rather require the succours of Reason, than the violence of a disorderly Passion; nor ought therefore to discompose the evenness and tranquillity of our minds;) not suffering himself to be moved, in imitation of his blessed Master, only smote upon his breast, saying these few words, Not ours, but thy Will, O LORD, be done. Fearing not in the least but Heaven would take care of such virtuous Souls as these, and at last set them free by a merciful Deliverance, or a glorious and happy Martyrdom.  
It chanced that he was not seen, or not regarded, by any of those cruel men: for he being but newly come hither, they who had deprived him of his Friends had not received yet the news of his removal from the City, and therefore made not here any search after him, (whom they would have much rather taken) but in the hurry they were in, let him escape to an adjacent Hill. The top whereof, which (like a rich man) proudly overlooks the under-hillocks and lower grounds, having with much trouble gained, he had before his eyes, by the help of a certain Telescope (which is the free unprejudiced Operation of Right Reason) to render the Objects more visible and distinct, and take off the false rays which the vapours of Humour or Passion raise to obscure and set off the greatest deformities as fair; this sad Representation of the World's Miseries.   

CHAP. II.  
The Prospect of the World.  
THe Country underneath he saw waste and untilled, oppressed with heavy loads of Gild and Misery; the Isles of the North tempestuously wafted on the Seas, even ready to be swallowed up with a dreadful Inundation of Woes: that little seeming Paradise also of the Earth which but just before he had chosen out for its delightful lonesomeness, and in his thoughts made the lovely retiring place of religious Melancholy, now converted into an Akeldama of Blood. Whence casting a look a little way off, he could not but pity the poor Cottagers, the labouring 
Slavery.  Peasants that were toiling to fill yonder rich man's Barns, and they themselves like to perish and die for scarcity; nor yet so much enslaved to their Lords, as to their Lusts; at once wretched, and wicked; so much the more to be pitied, as they deserved less. Round about the skirts of the Mount sat a People distracted with Jealousies and Fears, preparing Bonds wherewith to bind themselves fast, and pulling down on their heads those evils which they dreaded most, taking care to be miserable, by their own means alone enthralled, cruelly tyrannised over (and that which renders it still most of all insufferable) by men of mean estate, puny upstart Levites. They kissed their very Shackles, embraced even Gibbets and Racks, and mattered not aught the being made a Prey to the griping Avarice of Religious Freebooters.  
The whole Earth appears unto him blasted with a Curse, empoisoned with the 
Devastations.  Venom of the Serpent, overgrown with hurtful Weeds, with bad Manners and evil Dispositions. Whithersoever he looked, he saw the Lands foraged and ransacked, defiled with Blood, nought but a frightful Landscap of Desolation and Ruin, a Golgotha of dead men's Sculls. A destroying Pestilence took its range through the Territories of (professed) Christians, which carried all before it; and scarce one cared to avoid the Infection. The Fields were torn and rifled of their Beauty, the Air clamorously ringing with Mutinies and Tumults, the loud roaring of Cannons, the doleful shrieks of departing Ghosts still pierced his ears.  
Here were two Princes fight for a little spot of Ground; and there an ambitious Monarch devoting no less 
Ambition.  than thirty or forty thousand lives to the satisfying one single Lust. Here a proud Conqueror reeking in Sweat and Wounds, exchangeth his Laurel for a Wreath of Cypress, descends down into the Pit to converse with those he had afore sent thither; and he whose desires but some short while agone could not be confined within the borders of a Kingdom, is now sufficed with a few feet to cover a vile putrified Carcase. These were they who could alter Empires, do what they pleased, and turn the World topsie-turvie. But they who erewhile thought themselves unconquerable, now are crushed into the Grave, and thrown aside by their Friends and their Adorers, into the place of Forgetfulness; there to impart their Conquests with the Worms: they go from the Palaces of the Sun and of the Day, of Mirth and Light, into the black dismal Chambers of Death, to inhabit with Toads and Serpents, Stench and Corruption, leave behind all their joys and their good things for them that come after, and turn from the spoils of their Enemies to be preyed on by every as despicable and proud a Worm, or as foul an Insect as themselves. This did he see; and wept for them: he saw havoc by such hot-spirited men as these universally made, and waited therefore till he saw their unhappy falls. But these were not a near so formidable Monsters, or so destructive, as the 
Religions.  Makers and the Disturbers, Hell-inspired Founders and Innovators of Religion. Now he came to have the greatest need of his Telescope to discern these, the Exhalations being so very thick. Through which he could see the broad Road to Perdition thronged by full Caravans of silly men decoyed in by the overhot Zeal or officious Cheats of either blind or malicious Guides. Unto his sad consideration there appears a third part of the World lamentably deceived by an Impostor, a vile Epileptic person, bewitched to the most ridiculous absurdities that ever Imagination could invent, or the blackest Melancholy give credit to: Another third part, and more, under Idolatry, walking in thick darkness and the shadow of Death, the Worshippers of the cruel King of Darkness: And that which of it remains, not of one Religion, but divided into above a thousand different Sects; besides a Vagabond Nation retaining their antiquated Rites, hated by all because they had most barbarously murdered their Prince, the great Messiah; and those also who professed to be, and those who lived, as if they were not of any.  
Where could he cast his eye? if upon the Country, that alas was vitiated 
Universal Wickedness.  with sordidness and narrowness of mind, base and mean Vices: if upon the Cities, they too with fraudulent dealing and deceit in Wares, with pride and discontent: the Court with ambition and faithlesness, cogging Parasites and false Friends: the Bench with injustice and wrong, bribery and subornation: private Families with dissimulation and eye-service, strife, worldliness, and grudge; either an Epicure, or a Churl, or an effeminate wanton, the Master thereof: public Societies with Self-interest and Fraud: the Schools with contention: Houses of Prayer made Dens of Thiefs, converted into Stables, and polluted with all manner of profaneness and extemporary extravagancies.  
These Territories were wasted by foreign Incursions; the other by distractions at home, and intestine Wars (far more) miserably depopulated: Tyranny lorded it in this place, Confusion in that: And so Desolation and Sin not content with one, took their range through every Quarter.  
Nor was the Land only, but the very Sea enriched with the Wrecks and the 
The Sea.  Spoils of wretched Mortals. There was a Ship split against a Rock, another struck on a Quicksand or a Syrtis, and a third sunk in the very Haven. There might he see the Hull of a rich Carack broken by the violence of a Tempest; and there a Merchantman carelessly coasting, whilst the Winds whistle sweetly upon its Sails, and the curled Waves seem to sport with the Vessel, overtaken by another which boards it, kills the men; or if so cruelly merciful as to spare them, 'tis perhaps for a more insupportable slavery: either to tug at the Oar, or labour in the Mine. Next moved huge floating Islands built only for destruction: for as if the Sea, the Storms, and fury of meeting Winds, Hurricanes, Travadoes, Swallows, Whirlpools, Rocks, Quicksands, Banks, Washeses, Oaz, Leaks, and all Mischances, with Pirates both Mahometan and Christian, were not enough, bloody Battles must be fought even there, lives perish which the guiltless Element consents not unto, and all sorts of death made to combine with man's wickedness, fire itself to rage upon the Waters; for no other end, but that more Blood may be so shed than the very Ocean can purge away. Yet notwithstanding all this, he could descry whole Fleets 
Indian Navigation.  farther off, contemning suchlike dangers as these, and seeking the utmost corners of the Earth, to lad themselves with clods of 
* Hab. c. 2. v. 6.  thick Clay, a little yellowish and a little whitish Earth, (silver or gold) sun burnt in the bowels of the Eastern Mountains, and dried up into the hardness of a metallic substance; so much base than common Mould, as it hath more of Care and more of Vice in it.  
He saw that which was but just now a Disease in the Shellfish, made a Pearl in this Lady's Ear: and Stones that sparkle 
Pearls.  like a Glow-worm, or a piece of rotten Wood, rated at the Mortgage of a whole Manor. He saw stately Palaces and rich Villas built by that great man, 
Vanity in Building.  empty, uninhabited by any; whereof he was not so much Possessor (thought the good Contemplator) as the Rats and Mice were. Another there was who 
The Covetous.  buried his Soul with his Treasure, as if he meant to descend alive into Hell: the gripling Usurer and the cold decrepit Hoarder, dug their way down thither apace. But another wiser, he thinks, than his cramp-fingered and slovenly Father, now gone to receive his doom, 
The Spendthrift.  just come of age, throweth away his Inheritance upon Taverns, and the houses of Impiety and Looseness; and by and by is poor and old, forsaken, despised, thrust out from his Company, pitied by none, but forced to beg a crust of Bread at that man's door, and is denied. This Son beds his Father's Concubine, and that new Mother-in-law playing 
Lust.  with the Babies in her Son's Eyes, teacheth him to sin; who first gins to love her as a Mother, and then to court her as a Mistress. A lustful Rival stabbed by his Fellow, lay weltering in his fresh-spilt gore, but the Murderer dropped down soon after at his feet. And such was the unlucky end of both those mad men. There might he see a Cloistered Friar making his forbidden loves to a Veiled Sister, or else more filthily waited on by his Boy Hylus. In that stately Serail he discerned a Prince locked up in the arms of his Olympia, who privily stealing away his Heart, fling it into the fire, which so much the rather still doted on her; until at last having long enough played with her Princely Lover, and fooled him out of both his Sense and Empire, she delivers him up bound unto his Enemy. Then looked he down upon those Draughts of sin, the impure Sheds of the Summenium, 
Brothel-houses.  where he could espy Shione, and Helis, and Lesbian, shamelessly plying the next unhappy Comers, selling their Bodies for a small piece of Coin, and delighting to entrap the unexperienced freshness of a raw puny sinner. But hence proceeded so noisome a Stench infecting round the Air, enough to stifle any not used to such filthy places, that forced him straight to turn away his glutted eyes from these loathsome and hellish receptacles of Devils, the pestilential stinking Jakes of Lust. By which means he had the beastly 
The Drunken Club.  sight of a drunken revelling Match, and the rude Disorders before him of a swearing, healthing, damning Club; which some hours after broke up in Quarrels, Fightings, and Murders.  
Some also were touring themselves over a Love-Sonnet, with which they intended to present their Mistresses, 
Love-Poetry.  and presently meet with Death in those Embraces which they so much courted; rottenness and poison in the Lap of a sweet Enchantress. Some vile degenerate Souls plumed themselves over the noble deeds of their famed Progenitors. An odd 
Nobility.  kind of Confession, that in themselves they could find no worth: they laid claim to the good actions of their Ancestors, as if they were (like their Estate) theirs by Inheritance. Others would venture all they had, yea, their very Lives, for a little Air, 
Fame.  the breath of the People; which having sucked down, they swell big and burst asunder. Some too were seen to pride themselves in that they were clothed with the Excrements 
Silks.  of a Worm; and thought themselves very fine, and despised all that were not clad so finely as themselves. There one, forsooth, very cunning and  in whatsoever he did, having sent away a 
Secret Sins.  Friend or a Servant from him, that he might with greater retiredness act those sins he was ashamed of, thought also with bars and doors to shut out the Omnipresence of the Allseeing God: but as he guessed himself most unobserved, behind him stood a dreadfully grinning Devil, taking notes thereof in a Book, which he kept to produce against him at the last great Terrible Day.  
Then next he observed, by moving the Telescope before his eyes a little back to seek out again where he 
Blindness and Error.  had beheld the Scene of Religious Madness, several Companies of unlucky Passengers travelling by, misled out of the way, bewildered by ignes fatui, by false Lights, and treacherous Leaders: And amongst them he could not but sadly lament the froward and unwieldy Zeal of his own Countrymen, set on fire by the dishonesty and imposture of their Guides. Some he saw with their bloody fingers tearing out their own Eyes, crushing the little lightsome Balls into a cruel disorder, that they might not behold those evils which their fanciful imagination prompted them to fear; so strongly imaginative, as thereby alone to call down those Plagues, which nothing else could ever have done. These were they who, unchristianlike, racked themselves with future Contingencies; but others again were so stupid, so unperceiving, as not to be moved at the dreadfullest Calamities that befall a sinning Nation. And these not concerned at any thing, sat themselves down upon the next green Turf, to be merry with their Friends; and then folded up their arms in sleep, letting whole days and years pass without taking notice. Some out of their profound prudence, made themselves blind, purposely that they might avoid those Precipices they were in danger of; and thought they should see better with another's Eyes, than with their own they could before; and that the way to shun the Blocks of stumbling which were lain so thick in the Road, was to be uncapable of seeing them: Others did the same, that they might the more securely err, and through an affected ignorance of their duty, plead not guilty to its omission; just as if a Malefactor should think to save his Neck, in refusing to learn what the Law makes death. But what was yet more sadly amazing to our good Contemplator, others who could see, would nevertheless go along for company with the blind; and though they knew well enough whither they were all travelling, yet would not return back again, or leave the Wrong for the Right way. The folly of these was miserable; but more miserable was (if Comparison can express) the folly of those who used the most approved Collyries, the choicest Ocular Medicines, to quicken and better the sight, to drive the Film from their Eyes: and preserve them against the Dust that was raised by Travellers, read Controversies on all sides, enquired diligently after the Truth, and busied themselves in learning out the true way; and all this for no other end, than that they might decline it, persecute the Truth, defend their own side, and see the better to pull out the Eyes of their Friends.  
Such absurd unmanlike Vices as these, such Unreasonableness and mean Descents, Bruitishness and Folly, did he everywhere observe. Men in every place he saw (and 
Brutishness of Vice.  that more than in Fable) metamorphosed into Beasts, having discarded and changed their very Selves, their own Natures; put off all Humanity and Reason; and foolishly degraded themselves (O piteous Sight!) as low, or lower, than the very state of Brute Animals; the Covetous, of a Mole; and the Lascivious, of a Goat: Here Gryllus grunteth charmed into a Swine, whom the Eloquence and Persuasion of an Ulysses is not able to make reassume his old Shape, and be a Man; the Nightwalker into an Owl; nay, some transformed into Stocks and Stones; some into ugly loathsome Toads, poisonous Creatures; the Outrageous, into mad Dogs; Parasites, into Flies; ingrateful Children, into a brood of Vipers; busy foul-mouthed Praters, into croaking Frogs: many also that spent their whole lives in weaving the Spider's Web; and not a few Asses, who covered with Lion's Skins, would strut and look terrible, and roar to frighten all those that were about them; by which they most ridiculously detected themselves, and were hooted at by those into whom they meant to strike terror; some that could very dexterously mimic it with the Ape; and others that knew how to shed the tears of the Crocodile: dissembling Panthers; subtle Foxes; devouring Wolves; venomous and malicious Serpents; gripping and bloodsucking Harpies.  
Amongst which last was a merciless Extortioner, who drank the Widows and the Orphan's Tears; whom 
The miserable Effects.  the furies of his own Conscience dragged to Execution: hated he lived, and unlamented he died of all. Nor was it less terrible that followed next. Cares and sleepless Nights, tormented with continual Lashing a Nusling Hidebound Miser: boiled in a Cauldron was the angry man by Rage, the cruelest Fury of Hell; and the Ambitious torn upon the Rack of their own restless Desires. Some had their hands bound behind with silken Cords, and rolled on a Bed of Roses; till at last they were 
The Deceits.  dropped in a Plate of Nettles, and seen no more. Unto a great many, Poison was reached out in a golden Cup; and this alone being enough to recommend it, it was accepted: Bonds of that Metal were even counted honourable, were willingly and greedily received: and deadly Pills, but gilded over, sweetly slipped down the voluptuous Throat. Drinking excellent Wines, they drunk off at the bottom lethiferous dregs; they mistook Ratsbane for Sugar; and in their sweetest Honey, Death, which they never thought on, was hid. These were the Deceits of the World; which his Eye perhaps, if unarmed, had never been able to discern. For as the Joys of Heaven, by reason of their distance, are disregarded, and the Disc of the Sun, because it is far removed, appears to us but very narrow; yet neither they, nor this, are therefore to be counted so small, or so inconsiderable, as the Eye shows them: So it would be the same madness, considering the vast disproportion and unlikeness betwixt the appearance of the things of the World and the things themselves, to judge of the latter by the first, without a strict and impartial research of the Mind. Nor is it to be wondered at during our tarriance here, if luminous Bodies, the Lights and the Joys Celestial, the best, the fairest, and the most glorious Objects are lessened, whilst even Shadows, the sorrowfullest, the meanest, and the deceitfullest, are lengthened. Wherefore Theosophus thought it not safe to believe things to be as they outwardly appeared, before he had looked through that undeceiving Glass he had; which dispersed all prejudices and vapours, to represent them as they were in themselves. Whereby he could descry all the errors and the fallacies, the paint and false glory, the sad disappointments and real deformities of the deceiving World. He could perceive fond Hopes betray this man, ignorant and uncertain Confidence another, a listless Will and an unruly Appetite a third.  
He had taken notice of all these and many more, when the Shadows who had waited this while very thick without, broke in, to play with and delude senseless 
Cheats in Religion.  Mortals. And foremost of them entered a troop of Pious Frauds, that in a moment scattered themselves all over the World. Ignorance, misguided Zeal, morose Demeanour, Singularity—, under the false Veils of Virtue, came next upon the Stage, and played their antic Tricks; by which they discovered themselves not to be any of her Attendants; and so went off, showing their ill-favoured haggard Faces.  
But first they let in against Man (just then as he was going to put an end to his Observations) an Army of Furies, 
The Band of Vices.  led by their Chieftan FOLLY, the great Diana of this World, and Mistress in humane Actions. Who is a Goddess universally worshipped and sacrificed unto, yet not acknowledged by the veriest Idiots. She hide her Face with a Visor, as not willing to be known. Under her Banner passed even Wit, (at least that which bears the name of Wit) and had deserved so well for maintaining a bad Cause, for keeping the Standart against all the Forces and the Powers of Reason, as to be made the Ensign bearer, and to be followed by Vices of a nobler kind: those who would be counted men of Parts, went and fell down before her Idolship. To whom she gave that to drink which blistered their Tongues, and made their Brains run round ever after.  
In the Van marched those Sins that more immediately strike against, or any way dishonour the Majesty of Heaven; the prodigiously sottish Wickednesses, and deformed Superfetations of the shallowest Pates, which aim to affront him who is Omnipotent; viz. loud Blasphemies, blind Atheism, all the Madnesses of a false Worship, all the kinds of wild Enthusiasm, rash Disputes, groundless Maintenances of received Opinions, Disloyalty in Religion, a restless Impatience under Providence, the strange Dreams of Prophetic Spirits, blear-eyed Fascination, hellish Magic, accursed Simony—: Fury and Fanaticism on this hand, and a cold indifferency on that: Nor was there ever the less Superstition, notwithstanding so much Profaneness: Incredulity and Scepticism on this side, and too much easiness of Belief on the other.  
Now looking over S. Paul's 
* Gal. 5. 19, 20, 21.  Catalogue, he sees these armed Furies in several Companies troop out against their poor silly Enemy, and in the Head of four thereof, those he sought after; 1. Adultery, Fornication, 
† 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  unnatural Lust, [Sodomy] Softness; uglily spotted with little deadly specks, and having on besides but very unclean and filthy Garments, in which they carried the Materials of a strange Fire, and Drugs of Poison. 2. Idolatry, Witchcraft; both as black as Hell. 3. Hatred, Variance, Emulations, Wrath, 
‖ 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Stubbornness, Schisms, Heresies, Envyings, Murders; with distorted Limbs, and ugly frighting Faces, moving unequally and contrary to each other. 4. Drunkenness, 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Nocturnae amationes.  Revellings (or Serenades;) staggering and dancing in unhandsome measures. The first and the last of these were the merriest; the second were the saddest; the third were the savagest, who were therefore all daubed over with Blood. Every of whom (except perhaps the second) was well armed with Opportunities and Temptations. But none of these (nor all the rest) could 
Treachery against one self.  do any hurt, before the Forts of Reason were dismantled or betrayed by Inconsideration, Obstinacy, Disobedience, Procrastination, Trifling, Rashness—; and then the unhappy men were presently took, their Souls blinded, and their Eyes plucked out with burning Pincers. Next, Lies sneakingly came upon them, using the 
* Gen. 27. 22.  Voice of Jacob, the Dialect of 
† Josh. 9 6.  Gibeonites; but clothed by Simulation in the Habit of Truth, and varnished over with the deceitful Glosses of Plausibility: Hyperboles ranted on one side of them, Detraction and a mincing Speech on the other side gingerly trod; followed by Sycophantry and smooth Glavering Words, by Perjuries, Equivocations, Mental Reserves, and by a numberless train of Errors: Then Piques and Prejudices, sinister Suspicions and calumniating Arts; sent to embitter the best Sweets, and misrepresent the fairest Actions. After which hobbled as fast as they could to get the Prey, Virulence, Malignity, and Spite, wounded even before the Battle began.  
At one end of the Camp were Querulousness and Grudge, an impatient Inconstancy, evil Censures, and snappish Manners, all together in an Uproar. But none were a near so troublesome as were Impertinence and Importunity, who buzzed up and down in every corner.  
Now in the Army two there were of greatest Quality and Command; though the one was but a 
Inducement to Vice.  Stolen, and the other a Scarecrow. She who was for the Stolen, was a Fury of a fair face and a brisk humour, (who usurped the name of Pleasure) set off with Paint and gaudy Trappings, lovely, and complaisant, and sportive; who alured whole Droves after her, whom she wantonly received and spoke fair to, whilst she crushed them to death in her Embraces, and trampled on them with her Claws. But while she was enticing them, another more ugly Fury, of a 
Determent from Virtue.  nature quite contrary, (who was named Fear) with false Difficulties, and the light uneasinesses thereof, frighted them from their Duty; and was therefore highly honoured by the great Empress of this World, for that she had so scared away Fools from their Happiness, and made it unsafe (or at least so seeming) for any to be now any longer upright or honest.  
The Armies covered the Land like Locusts, and with their Multitudes made a Night wherein none of the Lights 
The Victory.  of Heaven, or of Paradise, were seen: the Pomp's of the World, the Lusts of the Flesh, the Lusts of the Eye, all standing in stately Array, were prepared for the Battle, but with the bare Ceremony of a Skirmish they won the day, and gathered up the spoils. Hindmost of these wadled fat Sensuality, an hoggish nature and Epicurism, Gluttony and Gormandizing, Intemperance in Meats, Drinks, Sleep, Apparel, Recreation,—; accompanied with Surfeits, Cramps, Gouts, Catarrhs, and a whole Spittle of Maladies. They made their continual Encroachments; held all together to overthrow humane kind: Sins there were of all sorts, sizes, and humours, 
Division of the Conquests.  which distributed themselves up and down to destroy and ravage every Quarter. There were Sins of Youth allotted, and others deputed to catch those of riper age; but that now and then youthful pleasure and a shriveled face went together, and childish dotage made the old man laughed at. Oppression, Extortion, Sacrilege, and Rapine, went over to the more powerful: False Surmising, Jealousy, Unfaithfulness, chose to dwell with Friends; Deceit with Tradesmen; and unpunished Murder in Meats and Drinks, at rich Tables and large Cellars, in the Shops both of Luxury and Medicine: The Viper was bad to lurk within the bed of the Harlot, and the Fox to send his fur to line the Statesman's Gown: The muddy Souls of some were pleased best with filthy and obscene Delights; the shrewd Brains of others best tickled with their Neighbour's evils: Sloth and Retchlessness, dreaming Fancies— agreed well with the temper of the Phlegmatic: revengeful Sullenness and peevish Anger were as easily entertained by the Choleric person: but the Sediment of black Choler was claimed by Devils of another size, more ugly and hated than the former; of which they made a Bath therein to wash their cloven feet, and fashion strange uncouth Idaea's of things; wherewith heresy in divers forms knew how to mingle, and so employ her whole skill against the miserable Possessed. These were fierce and cruel; whilst seemingly more pleasant were those, which mixed themselves with the blood of a soft sanguine constitution. Yet even the little God of Love appeared to the impartial 
Cupid.  view of this sad Spectator, the most terrible and bloodthirsty Monster amid them all, and of a more sportive cruelty than any of the most mischievous besides; having his Arrows dipped in the blood of his Worshippers, and frolicksomly playing with Torches lighted at the fire of Hell. Dull insipid Vices would creep into an heartless and a brainless Sot; while those of another appearance (though indeed no less at all ridiculous, besides much more dangerous) would be always aspiring to be in the company of the more ingenious; till they had pillaged and left naked both the one and the other. Not a few shared the Barren, and many more the Fertile Soil: Some took up their Quarters in the well, and others in the ill-timbered Body: Some would lay in those Heads that were soft, and others in those that were hard: Some liked to dwell in a thick, but others liked a thin Scull better: Many set upon the glib Tongue, and a few upon the tied: There were those that were sent to plunder the Sick, and those the Healthy: There were those that would live upon the Rich, and others upon the Poor; upon the great men, and the small; in much Blood, or little; in an hot, or cold Constitution. Thus was not any secured from their destroying Talons; nor (what is most wonderful) any made Resistance, but let them possess as quietly as they had conquered. Now Pride, Sell-conceit, an overweening Opinion— not contented to take a share, made every body their slave; had learned even how to insinuate into a Saint, and could easily captivate those who could the least brook a submission. With whom pert Impudence came flirting in, uninvited. But Negligence lay sprawling on the ground, bedirtied and bemired; not striving (like the rest) after any Prey, but pitied therefore and entertained by stupid unactive Souls, who were soon undone by the foul ungrateful Traitor, and robbed of all they enjoyed. after which Craft came wriggling in, with demure Hypocrisy and armed Injury that passed for Justice; three such revenous Furies as did devour as much as all the bellies of the rest, and to get more booty, plundered their very Army. The Mutinous and the Quarrelsome, the Vain and the Fickle, the Buffoon, the Apish, and the Licentious, the Adulterer and Incestuous, the Blasphemer and the Apostate, the Parricide and the Assassin, the Felon and the Impostor, the Ungrateful and the Perfidious, the Inhuman, the Uncharitable, and the Simoniack, the open Rebel and the close Conspirator; were all coaksed into the World's strongest Net, and had the mark of the Beast burnt upon their foreheads more than ordinarily visible. Thus being sealed by their beloved Conquerors, after a little while of sport and play, they were pinched and gripped, and their brains knocked out one against another, and then sent for a Present to the other World. For they would allow some of them time to frolic in, before they showed them the Axes and the Halters: knew how (after the Persian mode) to dress up a Mock-Prince to be played with, and with such formalities barbarously to sport at those whom they had sentenced tardy. These Tyrants forced some to rejoice, as they forced others to mourn; but those that rejoiced came at last to mourn most: they killed these with singing and roaring; they destroyed others with fretting and pulling: they lowered upon some, but smiled upon others, as they were sticking them into the heart: they feared some Consciences hard, but burned others sore and tender; those were not afraid to act any thing unlawful, while these on the other side were afraid to act what was lawful. Thus they hampered both the Insensible and the Uneasy. Some of their Captives foamed at mouth, as if they were all in a ferment; others sparkled, as if they were on fire; and others looked black and ghastly as any Carrion. Indignation, Disdain, Despite, Scorn, Envy, Revenge, Outrage, Repine, with a number of suchlike Affections, disfigured the faces of a great many: this man's heart was cankered with inward Rancour; the others festered sorely with Carking and vain Solicitude: they pricked some to death with Needles, (these were they whose uncontentedness would not suffer them to rest quiet) and run others through with red-hot Irons (these were they whose Flesh was corrupted, and whose Marrow was burnt up within their bones.) Thus the Furies divided the Spoils among themselves, laid waste the Lands, and treacherously killed the poor Captives, to whom they had promised Quarter. Whilst Desire (and that too always followed by Loathe) made them greedily swallow down the poisoned Baits.  
Nay, both the Extremes hugged themselves together against Man. In the Gentile Sinner, the fine sparkish 
Opposites made Friends.  Gallant, he observed a beseeming Foppery and Court-Flattery: but in the Clown, Rudenesses and Incivilities, Roughness and a rugged ill-natured Untractableness. One was Foolhardy; another Fool-wary. He was too Rigorous, but the other over-Easie; and both thereby alike hurtful unto Virtue. So much Knavery could not rid the Multitude of Folly, nor Cowardice of Temerity. The Deceiving and the Deceived, the Blockish and the Crafty, the Fantastical and the Morose, lived near together, and were beholding to each other for what they were. The Knave led the Fool by the Nose, till he himself was at last caught in the Gin, and by tearing himself fluttered to get out, but could not. There were both the Despairing and the Desperate, who presented themselves to his view: the former desponded of every thing, the latter of nothing; and past Despair, durst set upon Impossibilities; whereas those through Fear durst not set upon the greatest Possibilities. Affectation dressed up more than a few to be laughed at, and Indecence as many to be trodden on. Abjectness and Highmindedness, Impudence of Brow and a Sheepish Unmanliness, Arrogance and Baseness, a crabbed Sourness and soft honeyed Soothing, bound up as many Slaves as one another, and triumphed over the weakness of those they had conquered. Treachery combined with overmuch Officiousness, and mean Condescensions went along with them to support Tyranny; Diffidence & foolish Presumption hand in hand; much Talk and peevish Silence, loser Laughter and a Weeping-fit, mutually succeeding each other. Thus even Contrarieties conspired against a weak Race, were reconciled to do Man an Injury. But though some were so modest as but to scatter up and down among the least number of Vetaries; he could see light and unsettled Spirits, Selfishness, littleness of Mind, a love of the World, Imposture and Blindness in every place; with Machivellian Policy, the Devices and Slights of cunning Cheats sent to impose upon the World, Massacres, Plots, Factions, Rebellions—. Dire Presages were seen to fill the Heavens, and an hundred thousand Plagues and upwards to hover over head, ready to fall. REMORSE and TROUBLE of MIND brought up the Rear.  
Thus all the Vices and the Passions were banded together against frail Man: thus they divided and ruled their Conquests. And in such sort did all the World (except a few despised Pilgrims) seem unto him enslaved by this Sorceress FOLLY, and their hearts tyrannically possessed by foolish hopeless Vices. Whereinto these * Devils were no sooner entered, but the Herd (properly 
Luke 8. 33.  enough so called) ran violently down a steep place into the Lake, and were choked.  
And so which way soever the sorrowful Contemplator looked, he saw a thousand thousand Follies, ridiculous Frenzies, Miscarriages, heavy and numberless Calamities, infinite Evils. A slight view whereof had heretofore, when he was young, such an effect upon his mind, was so dreadfully amazing, as struck in him a resolution presently to quit the World, and seek new Countries out, where Death and Sin had got no footing, and where Innocence might rest secure from either Violence or Fraud.  
Wearied with so dismal. a Prospect, he put up his Glass, unwilling to view any longer, and descended to the bottom of the Hill, which was washed by the River Thamus. Whose sadly discoloured streams had not yet lost the stain of a miserable Slaughter that was somewhere thereabout committed. As if they even blushed at man's Cruelty, were ashamed of that Barbarity which he gloried in; and thinking it a very praiseworthy Enterprise, sought perhaps to have eternised in Pillars of Stone, or everlasting Records. The dejected Father feeling the burden of his Grief unsupportable, sat himself down under the fair spreading shade of a tall Pine. Sorrow had sunk his eyes into his head, and made his eyelids come together, and his heartstrings were almost ready to burst; when casting in his black melancholy thoughts what he had seen, he thus uttered himself.   

CHAP. III.  
Theosophus meditates on the Folly and Misery of the World, and thence takes occasion to run out into the Praises of Paradise.  
GOod God and is it possible that ever any one can be in love with such a mass of Evils, such an heap of Misery and Sin? What, I pray, can a delirious brain fancy herein so lovely? Is it a great Name, or a great Estate; blustering Vanities, or useless Superfluities? Is it a Body plastered with Paint, or a rotten Carcase gilded over with exterior Braveries? Perhaps it may be any, or all of these: for nothing did I ever see, but that a fool could admire, and a wise man despise. I see it is just so: no Victory is now held so honourable as to overcome one's Reason, and baffle Conscience; nor Conquest so deserving as everlastingly to overthrow one self. See, how far the Triumphs of that bewitching Siren (sinful Folly) are extended! See, how they are all led in Chains by this their foolish Goddess, and submit their necks to be trodden on by the sweet Destroyer! For of a truth it is mankind is mad, stark raving mad. They court Misery, run upon the jaws of Hell; so sottishly vicious, as to mistake all that is good for evil, and find no Pleasure but in their own Wretchedness. O prodigious and unheard-of Folly! Are Anger, Revenge, Envy, Love, Discontent so delightful Passions, such pleasing Perturbations of the Mind? As well may we go and fancy the burn of a Fever, or St. Anthony ' s Fire, as any of these: nay, as soon shall I be brought to think a Leper beautiful, as a Woman deformed with Lust. Prithee tell me therefore, foolish Worldling, what dost thou adore, and how thou cam'st to be thus enamoured with the World. O miserable and unsatisfying World! whom the whole is not able to content, even the least dust is enough to trouble and discompose; a small Atom or Mote in thy eye, every trivial Mischance, and every uneasy Accident, death of thy Friends, the miscarriages of thy Child or of thy Servant, are of more force to afflict thee, than all the rest of it to ease thee. And is it for this goodly Vanity, that so many Wars are commenced, Conspiracies hatched, civil Broils fomented and carried on by ambitious Spirits? Is this the Prize of so many noble Actions?— Let the vainglorious Victor now boast his strength, and leave engraven in brass the Monuments of his fortunate Cruelty. If to kill be so great honour, why should not the Wolf, the Lion, and the Bear, challenge it as well as Man? Is it because they fight with less courage, or with less force? If so, go, proud Murderer, and if thou canst, grapple with one of these, and then acquaint me which is the weakest: thou that art so strong, dost thou not fear the Trunk of the Elephant, and the Tusks of the wild Boar? Believest thou not that Diseases, Dearths, and Plagues can dispatch quite as many as thou? Yet who praiseth the Pestilence for depopulating whole Towns, or worshippeth the Fire for being more terrible, and burning down the Houses of some and Palaces of others; or hath learned yet to flatter the Surfeit for snatching away so many young men in the spring of their flourishing years? With these therefore now go, and share thy ill gotten Praises: unto these, that much better deserve it than thou, communicate thy Fame: let these, I say, partake of thy Triumphs, and together with these erect the Trophies of thy redoubted Valour. O monstrous Inhumanity of Men, thus to destroy one another; and what is more, even glory in that destroying! But wherefore call I them so? Are these men? it cannot be: them I always took to be another sort of Animals, more divine, more rational Creatures. Who can tell me where to find a Man, one that has not put off himself, nor lost the image of his Creator?  
How can my eyes behold this; the blasted Earth made the Habitation of Devils, Cities the retreat of the Elk and the Lion, the Beasts of the Forest and impure and raging Spirits? What do I see every where, but a Wilderness of wild Beasts? but that alas, now I think on it, Tigers and Pards are less cruel, do never pray upon their own kinds. Is it then a Map of Hell, or is it Hell itself? but even there the very Devils divide not against themselves— How are the Northern Isles laid waste, the European Coasts stained over with humane blood? What is it that makes the wretched Natives strive thus to outvie the years past and the years to come, both in their Crimes and Punishment? Must all the Wickednesses and Calamities of all Ages be amassed together in this one? 
* Therefore mine Psal. 119. v. 136, 139. Lam. 3. v. 48, 49, 50.  eyes, O God, gush out with water: they gush out with water, because men keep not thy Law; continually cast forth Rivers of water for the approaching destruction of this People: yea, my Zeal has even consumed me, because mine enemies have forgotten thy Words. Without any intermission mine eye trickleth down, and ceaseth not; till the Lord look from Heaven. Behold, Lord, look down upon and pity: pity, most gracious Jesus, the madnesses of those silly wretches, those who by their evil Guides are infatuated to so high a degree as to embrace, under a show of Sanctity, the deadliest sins, and imbrue their hands in blood, that so they may appear the meek followers of thee, the Prince of Peace. Wilt thou let Schism and Heresy, with all their vile monstrous brood, thus rigorously persecute (O horrid Barbarity!) thy most holy, thy most lovely Spouse the Church? Wilt thou not support her under the Cross thou hast laden her with? Crosses and Martyrdoms are nothing to this Persecution. She now feels within her own bowels more than a thousand Diocletians: the most exquisite tortures and enraged cruelties of Superstition, and Hypocrisy, and Profaneness. Behold, Lord, and pity: behold the Giants of the Earth, the mighty men, how they labour to overturn all things, to shake the very foundations of the Earth, and shatter this same goodly frame of the Universe into Confusion, Discord, and Chaos: into that which is many degrees worse than its primitive Nothingness. Behold even how Heaven itself is (again) assaulted by their enormous Villainies, their huge Gigantic Crimes! Crimes that are always attended on by Famine, Plague, War, and all the meager train of Deaths, which we poor silly Mortals both court and dread. So that Virtue is now by many thought to be but an imaginary Being, a pious Dream, a vain fantastical Chimaera of some dull Brain, the dotage of a morose stupid Ascetic; and made the World's Fucus to the foulest Vices: Fury and Madness. Sedition and Murder, usurp the mild and sacred names of Zeal and Godliness. In this lamentable decay of Piety, where shall one find a good man, or an honest Pilgrim?—  
He would have proceeded, but that some Herdsmen driving their Beasts by that way to the Market, here disturbed him. The Beasts were very plump, and skittishly played as they passed by; not knowing whither they were driven. Alas (said he to himself) how unconcernedly do these poor Cattle now go to be slaughtered? They who drive them have only fatted them for this, that they may now sell them to the Butchers, and their Deaths bear a greater rate. Thus fares it with the Pilgrims of these unhappy times, who after that they suffer themselves to be transformed into Beasts, and to be fatted and stalled with irrational beastly pleasures, are by themselves, or their interested Guides, soon sold over to destruction and the slaughter.  
After these passed by others also of the Country thereabout, that had laboured very hard all that day; in whose looks one might read an honest and rough Simplicity. Whom the good man therefore thought he could easily enough persuade to seek their own Welfare; and to go along with him, leaving the toilsome and barren Earth unto the more fruitful Plains of Paradise. And to this end he used the most sweet and most prevailing means, discoursed very plainly with the poor Drudges, dealt with all the openness and sincerity possible concerning their removal and the way thither, and left nothing unattempted to make them happy. But all in vain; he met with so fierce (so much the more fierce as the more unexpected) opposition from these besotted Clowns. Instead of Simplicity he meets with Bluntness, and a resolute ill-grounded Refusal: so far are they from being persuaded by the plainness and the truth of his Discourse, or at all bettered by his sober Admonitions, that some of them revile, and others jeer, and every one despiseth him.  
Though the most noble-minded Theosophus knew not how to sorrow for himself, yet could he not choose but deeply sorrow for these enslaved Wretches. But as he was still disappointed, so his disappointment still made him the more strive to obtain, and the more long to be in Paradise. On which place (having by this time marshaled, in his sorrowful thoughts, all the deplorable Vanities of the World that he had seen) he broke forth in this manner following.  
But as for thee, O divine place, how glorious art thou! how great and transcendent is thy Beauty! and how desirable is the Vision of thee before all others! Nothing but thee do I desire; I think of nothing but thee; my very Enemies can witness how incessantly I praise thee, O supreme Beatitude: the Brooks and Winds (that use to repeat my words) can tell as much. Paradise, how do I pant and thirst after thy Felicity! Paradise is inscribed upon my heart in indelible characters, and every minute carries the blessed name of Paradise along with it. All the day long my thoughts are of thee, and at night my roving fantasy cannot rest from seeking thee out. In a Land where no man seeketh thee, but every one is gone astray after their own inventions, my Soul continually gasps after thee: yea, in a barren and a thirsty Land where no Waters are, and where the People have hewn out to themselves broken Cisterus: forsaken the Wells of the Prophets, because they flow from thy sacred Head. What study or cost have I spared to learn whereabouts thou art seated? What have I not underwent to make a Discovery into thy Celestial Map? Have I not for this exposed myself to the fury of raging Winds and the tempestuous Main, been tossed up and down by the Storms of Popular Zeal, robbed by Pirates, engulfed up in Misery, and oftentimes even sunk to the bottom with Reproach and Calumny? Have I not in thy enquiry searched all places, endured both the i'll cold and scorching heat of different Climes in Religion? And what else shall I do to win thee, thou fair Object of my Affection? Thou knowest how laborious, how diligent I have always been to fill thee with Inhabitants; when not only my Adversaries, but my very Friends also (those at lest who profess themselves my Friends) would by their too quarrelsome Piety or open Profaneness, turn thee into Solitude and a dispeopled Wilderness. O that I could pull down Mercy and Peace from thy holy place! Why dost thou not manifest thyself unto us, and put an end to all our Controversies?— O when will come those happy days?— Will they ever come?— Yes, did but exiled Charity return, they would then be very near: then shall our Divisions be healed, and thy Paths (by consequence) crowded. In the mean while how unhappy are we in the Quest after thee, whom the very eagerness and heat of Pursuit still makes us to lose?— And shall we all thus perish? No sure, it cannot be. It cannot be that any Soul should perish in the search after thee. It cannot be, no more than I can cease to love thee; no more than I can cease to pant after thy Joys. And can I ever do this; can I ever forget thee? No. Impossible it is for me not to extol thee among the Children of men. How desirous am I to tell thy Lovers where thou may'st be found, and how ready to conduct humble Souls into thy blissful and immortal state! How do I long for thee, thou sure Reversion of never-fading Pleasures! Paradise the meed and recompense of my Travels, Paradise the sole aim of all my hopes, how fain would I leave these Habitations of Clay, to dwell in thine eternal and delightful Mansions! What would I not give to enjoy the liberty of thy Citizens, O Jerusalem, Jerusalem!— Why art thou then thus concealed from mine eyes, or what makes me to be debarred the fruition of my Lord? Why do not ye who are his winged Messengers, translate me thither? For I am weared with toil and labour, I am quite tired with vexation, and can hardly any longer (but for his sake whom I love) endure to be thus flouted at by these Country-Swains for teaching them the most necessary and the most profitable Truth in the World: and to be persecuted even by those who in show appear his most devout and zealous Pilgrims. But alas, that—: that which dams up my heart with grief, is, that all this while, this tedious while, I have not so much as gained over a Proselyte, not so much as a Proselyte to follow his steps. My Endeavours, alas, alas, have all been fruitless and come to nought: all along have I been disserviceable unto thee, dear JESUS— In vain do I strive to honour thee, in vain do I strive to advance thy Kingdom upon Earth: the Feuds and Rents in thy Church do quite dishearten me. Is not Truth, preached out of my mouth, termed Heresy; and Primitive Christianity, without any further scrutiny, straight exploded? Whensoever I speak, my Neighbours look awry, and every one stops his ear against me. Woe is me, that I am constrained to dwell with Mesech, and to have my habitation among the Tents of Kedar. My Soul hath long dwelled among those that are Enemies unto Peace. I labour for Peace; but when I speak unto them thereof, they make ready to battle. Who will therefore give me the wings of a Dove, that I may fly and rest myself upon the Mount of God When must I leave this Beth Chomer! this Cottage of Clay! this ruinous and shaken house! O that I had wings like a Dove; for than would I flee away and be at rest. O when shall I arrive there! How long will it be, O my Soul, before I enter the Court of Heaven!   

CHAP. IU.  
His Vision.  
IN such sort did the dejected Eremit pour forth his Soul upon the Banks of the River Thamus (whose becrimsoned streams well enough accorded with his Woe, and whose waves seemed to listen to his words, and then rejoice to report them to each other in sorrowfully-painful Echoes,) till by the rolling murmurs of the Current, and the heaviness and sorrows of his wearied Spirits, he was easily compelled to take the respite of a little sleep.  
But his Imagination suffered him not to rest: for no sooner had he let his Senses go, but he thought he saw a rich and stately Temple raised suddenly by the hands of Angels; the Materials and Stones whereof were taken out of the Celestial Quarries, and the Sun glittering against the Walls, rendered it above measure resplendent: which frightened away an ugly Purblind Hag that had hid herself under the Groundwork, not able to abide so dazzling a Lustre. For she loved to converse with Bats and Screech-owl's, her Eyes being too weak to endure the Light, or even without violence the least gleam thereof; so hateful unto her, that to obscure the same, out of her mouth she continually belched forth foggy Exhalations, and muffled her head round with gross palpable Darkness; by which he knew her to be IGNORANCE: the mistaken Mother of mistaken Devotion. He was for some while delighted, he said, to view the glory and magnificence of this divine Structure, and to behold the chase of that blind deceiving Witch.  
But at last he saw the Clouds begin to gather themselves together very thick, and the Sun straight to hid his head, and Ignorance again return. When he observed a great many making Battery against it. But others there were he perceived undermining the Foundation: and withal some hellish Spirits not far off, who yelled hideously at his beauteous Decency, raising a Storm which beat against it, shaking the stones so, that the underminers more easily overthrew it; and nothing presently was left but the Ruins of this (once) goodly Fabric. Than which, nothing could move the melancholy Dreamer more. But the Air at length clearing up, and the Fogs dispelled by the bright Rays of Truth (the Sun) this same Temple (that but lately fell) again appears to him in greater beauty and splendour; upon whose Portal he read, The CHAPEL of the Pilgrims to the HOLY LAND. During the while, there touched his ear a sad pleasing harmony of elegiac and mournful Notes in a most soft melodious Air. All which was closed in a sudden turn with quick and joyful Hallelujahs. And as he looked to know whence it came, not yet recovered of his pensive sadness, he saw a winged Youth, as quick as Lightning, pierce the Sky, who smilingly approaching him, touched him with his wings; and showing him a Mitre richly set with curious stones, invisibly held up, having this Inscription, To him that leadeth; thus, with a countenance darting forth beams of joy, spoke, viz. Why art thou, Son of Man, thus heavy and cast down, as if thy God had forsaken thee? I have hitherto (though unseen) still attended on and guarded thy person; but am now specially commanded from him who is thus solicitous for you, to raise up your drooping Spirits, and to assure you that your labours are accepted with him, and that after many disappointments, hazards, and perils of life itself, you shall find a select number ready to bear you company unto those yonder happy Regions of Immortality, where I, my dear Charge, expect at last to see you.  
Having said this, his Guardian Genius (who had ordered all these Shadows, and presented them to his Imagination) disappeared, leaving in his veins for a long while after, such a secret joy, as made all his blood leap; and such a calmness in his Soul, as made him quite forget his past discomforts.  
However, he was somewhat startled after this, at the sight of a dead Corpse before his feet, beginning to move and stand upright.  
This broke the Chains of Sleep, setting his senses and thoughts at liberty to reflect upon what he had seen. All which (except the motion of the dead Corpse) when he considered the sweet comfortable words of his Tutelar Angel, admitted of an easy interpretation. The subversion of the Church, and re-edifying thereof, the Mines under the Foundation, the yelling of Devils, the Tempest, the return of Ignorance, the glorious Mitre, and the dolorous Music, concluded with divine and sprightly Hallelujahs, were all obvious to make out. Only this appearance of the Carcase seemed to forebode some sudden Evil, which he would fain have understood.   

CHAP. V.  
What immediately thereupon fell out. His Persecution.  
NOw upon the shore, not far from him, lay a small Casket, thrown up, as it were, by the flow in of the Tide. On which, as he took it into his hands to view it more narrowly, (guessing it to be the Prize of some poor slaughtered man) he found the Holy Lamb curiously niched, with this word, Who overcometh; and underneath that, the Seal of the dearest Consort of his troubles, Eubulus. O my Eubulus, have I then lost thee? What cruel hand has thus bereft me of my Friend? Was it this the Corpse portended? Well, be it so, yet grieve I will not. Thy Journeys end thou hast but so much sooner attained; and with a shorter cut, than otherwise thou couldst, hast reached the Holy Land. Happy Martyr, I envy thee not:— yet I cannot, methinks, but sorrow somewhat for myself who am left behind.— Stay,— let me open this Casket: herein perhaps I shall find his last words directed to his Friend.  
Thus said he to himself, and then breaking it open, the first thing treasured there he met with, was a fair rich Manuscript of the two Covenants in their Original Languages, with an ancient Liturgical Form of Prayer annexed thereunto. Next, in a long Scroll was contained the Constitutions and the Articles of the Primitive Pilgrims. There was also an Emerald-Ring believed to be of efficacy to preserve Chastity, having the whole History of the Crucifixion most admirably etched on it. Wrapped up it was in a small shred of Paper, bearing this Inscription, The Gift of the excellent Youth Theophilus. But at the bottom he found a Letter, the purport whereof was as follows: viz. 
With Orthodoxus and Uranius, in the solitary Vale of Edena, now ready to be taken; and fearing to be rifled of this small Treasure (partly theirs) which would endanger us all: I am forced to cast the same into the River, hoping that if it perishes not there, it may by some means or other light into the hands of the Reverend Theosophus, my honoured Friend and Supervisor. For whose safety I am very much troubled, having overheard some whispers of a Conspiracy against his life, by raising a Commotion in the Countrypeople. The chief Instigators whereof I have learned to be Diotrephes and Santomero. But we must acquiesce in the divine pleasure; knowing that through this 
* Jud. c. 2. v. 5.  Bochim, this Valley of Tears, we are to pass unto Mount Zion.  
EUBULUS.   
Scarce had he read this Letter from his Friend, when he could distinguish these pitiful Complaints, in a voice which he thought he was not unacquainted with, coming from an adjoining Tree: O my dear Timotheus, my dear Friend, my Timotheus, alas, my Timotheus, alas, where art thou? where, alas, shall I find thee, my dear Companion? Art thou quite lost? O would it had pleased God to take thee away whilst thou wert his: Then had I not lost thee; but now I have lost thee. Happy had it been for thee, dear Timotheus, if thou hadst died long ago. Yea, nothing could have been happier for thee than this: I should not thus have grieved for thee, though I had thereby lost so excellent a Friend. Art thou yet alive, my Timotheus, or no? Why didst thou thus leave thy Friend without so much as acquainting him first therewith? Where art thou now straggling? Hast thou forgot all those Discourses we had about Paradise, and how we used to delight ourselves in contemplation of its Beauties? Dost thou not remember how thou and I were wont to send up our extatick Souls into that happy, most happy place; there to meet, with our Supplications and our Praises, the good, the gracious, the almighty, the almerciful Prince thereof? Sure thou canst not but remember how graciously he always heard and answered our Petitions: thou canst not but remember his favours that he delighted to shower down upon us. How oft hast thou told me thou couldst never disremember these, or put Paradise out of thy mind? O my good God, my kind and merciful Father, ever glorious Prince of the best Abodes, hear me this once, and grant, I beseech thee, that I may find my lost Friend and thy lost Child. O that these my Sighs could so prevail on thee, that thou wouldst send back my Friend to me, and at the same time bring him back to thyself! O that thou wouldst entertain him as the returning Prodigal! O that thou wouldst receive him again into the number of thy Servants and thy Pilgrims! This I beg of thee, for the sake of the Son of thy Love, and that precious Atonement which his Blood makes. O my dearest God, unlimited in thy Perfections and thy Goodness, holy, ever-blessed, adorable TRI-UNE Majesty, who art the great Pitier of perishing Souls, and hast sworn that thou delightest not in the death of a sinner; suffer not that poor sinner to perish: though he is thy Enemy, he is seduced: O recall him instantly, and undeceive him; reconcile him to thyself, and be thou reconciled to him: 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,— Nazianz. Orat. sec. de Pace.  Thou who will't be known unto all either by Illumination or Condemnation, work now powerfully upon his heart, and of a profane Enemy, make him thy devout Adorer. This I hope thou wilt grant, though thou shouldest be therefore pleased to lessen my part in thee, and allot me but half a share in thy Paradise. O how contented would I be with this!  
Theosophus thought he would not so soon have ended, but that one, as he supposed, here came to him; to whom he could hear him say, O Parthenius, I have been very melancholy since you left me. But tell me, did you hear any body speak of him? Did you ever see, tell me true, among the Pilgrims, one so lovely as was Timotheus? Pray, Theophilus (answered the other) do not fear but that you will find your Friend. Do you say so, dear Parthenius (replied he) indeed I just now thought I had heard some body tinkle in my ears, Timotheus is returning. But must I not fear, dost thou say? Sure if he were not utterly lost, if any where he were to be found, I had found him before this. Are not two years and half of a third that I had sought him, a long while? Come (said Parthenius unto him, in quite as sorrowful a note, though he strove to comfort) what, will you, who while Timotheus was among us, was always observed to be the merriest and pleasantest of us, now vex and pine away yourself, so that in a short while you will not be able to stir after him? Pray now do not trouble yourself so excessively, but depend upon God, and expect his Will. I should be as glad if I could win Philogynus to put on chaste Pilgrims Weeds, as you could if you should meet rambling Timotheus. But you know that neither can be effected but by our great and gracious Master, and through his assistance; unto whom our Prayers must pierce, if we think to do any good. For a 
* Si Stephanus non orasset, Ecclesia Paulum non habuisset. Aug.  St. Paul, are we not beholding to the Prayers of the holy Martyr St. Stephen? And with our Prayers sent upwards with the same fervency, we must look to gain over those two. Good Theophilus, do not weep so; put this out of your mind for some while: Do you not hear the News? What do you think will become of us all? We are all to prepare for suffering: for our Basilius his Army received yesterday a very sad defeat from the sacrilegious and wicked Theomachus. The wise Orthodoxus, the Angel-tongued Uranius, and the goodcounselling Eubulus, are all taken from us: we are never like to see that venerable Guide the suffering Patriarch Cyprianus more: and our Theosophus the best and chief among us, Theosophus the best Man and best Guide, is sought after by them. Do you not see those stains upon the Waters, and the devastation round us? What can we now further do for Basilius, or Basilius do for us? At this, cried Theophilus, God preserve Basilius, but let him do what he please with us.  
Now at the name of Basilius, Theosophus his heart beat very much; yet he was unwilling to interrupt them, and thought it better to wait a little longer to see how they would break up their Discourse. What (said Theophilus) is this your News? I tell you, dear Cousin, I can be angry with you almost for this: nay, try me whether I cannot be angry. Am I not angry now? I never knew you, dear Parthenius, a Relator of such sad things. Is it true? But why did I ask whether that is true that Parthenius tells me? Pray be not angry with me for it. I think I spoke out of anger, pray pardon me. Truly, though I never wished so before in my life, I could now wish, my dear Parthenius, that you speak not truth. Come, let us rise, and go seek, you, Philogynus: I, Timotheus: and when we shall have found them, we will hold them fast; and to take the Pilgrims VOW, will bring them to the good Theosophus. But now I speak of Theosophus, let me see, where is that little Box I had to deliver unto him, which I took up yonder? would I could but find him now to give it him. Theosophus, who heard distinctly enough what they said, was somewhat surprised at this, and more when Theophilus looking after the Box, spoke thus to Parthenius: I remember I laid it there, you saw me, did not you? how can it then be moved away? for I have seen no body walking here. Sure I have not lost it: I would not have it lost for ever so much. The Effigy of the holy Lamb makes me think there is somewhat in it worthy to be prized. Did not you, Parthenius, take it up? tell me if you have. But Parthenius assured him he had not; and Theophilus knew not how to  Parthenius, though he could not see any other probability, but that Parthenius had taken it up and laid it somewhere else.  
Theosophus, now to put an end to this, went towards the Tree under which they sat, near unto the place he had taken up those sacred Treasures. They both rose up to reverence him; but Theophilus thereat startled, looking about him as if he had lost something and could not find it, very ingenuously confessed, Sir, I was to search out you, and give you a Box, which I saw one afar off (whom I supposed to have been either Orthodoxus or Eubulus) throw into the River. I made haste to take it up, which when I had taken up and looked upon, I knew whose it was, and esteemed it as much as if I had saved a little Moses (and perhaps I did) in his Ark, floating on the waters. I designed therefore to bring it you, my good Father: there, there it was I laid it down, thinking no body to be here; but now I see it is gone. Pray have you met any one with such a little Box, walking this way, that I may inquire after, and if it be possible regain, the same? At this, said the old Father, do not trouble yourself, sweet Theophilus, for he whom you designed to have it, has it already; and therein contained not only Moses, but a greater than Moses; so far were you from being deceived. But tell me if you have yet seen your Friend? These last words made him as sad as the other made him joyful. I think, answered he, weeping very sadly, I saw him once, but so altered and changed, as I scarce knew him; and then he would not come near me, but ran away, and never since can I hear of him: this is now the thirtieth month in which I have not spoke unto him. I have at last got Parthenius to travel along with me; and he also is seeking for one that is lost.  
The charitably-minded Theosophus gave directions to both, how they should bring them back, if they lighted at any time into their company: and told them, that perhaps they might find them either blind or deaf, but that under the cover of friendship they might apply that which, with the divine blessing, would cure both their Eyes and Ears. So he parted from them, holding up his hands, and saying, God bless you, brave Youths, and give you your desired success.  
When they were gone he read over again Eubulus his Letter, it being so unexpected and so surprising to him, and thought upon it with much concern for his three Friends, but little for himself. Scarce had he read it, when he heard a tumultuous noise, which as it approached still nearer, he distinguished to be, Where is this heretical Dog? did we not see him here? And instantly he was surrounded by the rude Country-folk (that he had 
* Chap. 3.  lately left) armed with Fails, Forks, and other rustic Weapons that came next to hand. Amongst whom he saw a young man not like the rest, of more ingenuous looks, which he thought to have some resemblance of Theophilus, and more of the old loyal Hegemon whom he loved. But as they were laying their barbarous clutches upon his aged body, as if they meant to tear and shake him limb-meal apieces; there fell a very great Storm of Hail and Rain that dispersed them all, and forced them (against their wills) to leave him unto his escape. Whereupon his Devotion broke out into Songs of deliverance, and his pious Soul confessed that so unexpected an Evasion, and so miraculous, could not but be the effect of his all-powerful Preserver.  
But the devout Father had never long time to rejoice: he was soon after set upon again by some others of a contrary Faction and course of Life, Tories bravely mounted, (with whom was Santomero in disguise) who in a drolling manner thus accosted him: Prithee, old Grandsire, canst tell us any news of our friend Theosophus? Sirs (replied he) you cannot easily miss of him. So spurring their Horses, they left him whom they most sought after, and road in quest of him whom they had already found.  
Again another time, on a dark Moonless night, as he was repaired to a melancholy and secret Wood for his Devotions, he lighted, before he was ware, upon a private Junto of men, who all rising up to him, surprised him with this Compliment: O Father Mariana, are you come? Our Associates Pedro and Loyola bade us at your arrival expect to receive the Determinations of our supreme Mufty, and gave us strict charge to follow your Advice. These words started him not a little, you may be sure; and had he not been opportunely befriended by the night, his looks would without doubt have manifested the Error. But finding that he was took for a quite different person, he thought it the safest course not to disclose who really he was. Assuming therefore courage from the disguise of a false Mariana, he passed confidently by, and with a seeming great haste, thus abruptly bespoke them: Stay me not now with your discourse, for my business is urgent upon me, and will not admit of any the least delay. To which they all as quick replied, Whither high you so fast? Is it to assassinate the Tyrant Basilius? Well, after your work is finished, pray fail not to meet us at Bethaven, where we long to hear you relate the Transactions of St. Peter's Court. Nor will we ourselves be lacking to entertain you with a satisfactory account of the strange success our Stratagems have hitherto had against that religious heretical Sot Theosophus and his Adherents. So farewel: Let Hell prosper your designs. The most pious and peaceable Theosophus not much regarding their Answer, or wicked Plottings, made haste away; glad to be so easily rid of his deceived Adversaries, and with but small intent to meet them at the appointed place. Although the name and practices of Mariana were notoriously enough infamous, yet this honest Eremite before now could never be induced to believe him an Accomplice of them, who in public strove to appear his most inveterate and jarring Enemies. So horrid a confederacy and familiarity betwixt two such seeming opposite Parties, was too strong for his Faith, and made him now almost mistrust his Senses. Having got free from them, he spent the whole night in Prayers for Basilius, and that (once flourishing) Church which their hellish Complotting had subverted.  
He was afterwards encountered by several other Companies. And though he came not off always free from violence, yet still found deliverance; a sure, if not an easy one. Which Encounters, for that they were many, and the remembrance of them might perhaps prove troublesome to a few good men, are wholly omitted.  
Thus being pursued by all Parties, and oftentimes hardly escaping with life, he wandered many a weary step through overgrown Woods and dark solitary Recesses, absconding himself in Caves and Grottoes, till at last he settled in a poor Hut, that for secrecy and the nearness of a certain Oratory, commended itself before all others. It was indeed not much indebted to Art, but rarely well accommodated with all natural Conveniencies for a recluse life; and being immured in by the green and prickly closure of a kind Thicket, was almost rendered secure from the violence of wild Beasts, and the quest of humane Malice; as if it had been purposely designed at first by the careful industry of Providence, a Sanctuary in future times to some persecuted religious Anchorite. Here that blessed man, the divine Theosophus, rested to expect the event of the Vision, by making this retreat from the World preparatory and effectual thereunto; chief, I think, encouraged to tract the footsteps of Innocence in such a rural solitude as this, and to chalk out a safe way to the heavenly Canaan.   

CHAP. VI  
A remarkable Accident which during his Concealment happened to him.  
ANd accordingly a while before the Celebration of Easter, he used to search the wild unfrequented places thereabouts, and beat the Hedges and byways, to find out and set aright any solitary wand'ring Pilgrim. How successful his Charity proved, you may judge by the event. One day above the rest, walking out, he was overtaken by a very thick Fog descending from the hills, that benightened all the Valleys round; whereby every thing, at a short distance; was undiscernible to the eye. The Sun, as if he knew how to commemorate the Eclipse of the Sun of Righteousness, mantled over his light in black cloudy Exhalations: such was the darkness (though not universal) that it might not unfitly represent that mid-day-night wherein all the powers of Infernal Darkness were scattered and confounded. Which made him revolve in his contemplative mind all the dire and tragic parts of his Master's most astonishing Passion; whom the Evangelical Records relate to have offered up his Soul a bloody Victim (about this time) for the Sins of the whole World. Thereupon his thoughts crowding too fast upon each other, were forced at length to burst out into some such Expressions as these, viz.  
My Lord and Saviour, how great and intolerable were the pains which thou didst endure! How sharp and pungent was thy grief! Who, alas, can express thy Sorrows, or comprehend the riches and excellency of thy Goodness! What else but infinite Love could make thee, holy Prince, before whom all knees bow both in Heaven & Earth, put off thy Celestial Diadem and Glory, to court Infamy, Servitude and Misery; to be scourged reviled, and spit on; to be forsaken even of thy Father, and together with Thiefs and Robbers nailed upon the accursed Tree? For whose sake, dear JESV, didst thou submit to this? Can it be for the meanest of thy Vassals, for a depraved mortal Race, thy disloyal rebellious Subjects, and vile Creatures? Yes, LORD, thou knowest 'twas for them alone.— And is thy Death of no more efficacy to them? Do thy precious Wounds avail thus little? Has thy Blood lost its virtue, or thy Love its power? If not, how canst thou behold them perish for whom thou hast done so much to effect the contrary? Canst thou let the World, after all this, be lost? or canst thou so far forget thy Name, as not to be merciful? Look down and see how the Destroyer of Mankind seems proudly to triumph in thy defeat! Why wilt thou any longer suffer him to usurp Dominion and Rule over that which is thine? Thou, LORD, art faithful, and remember'st the 
* Chap. 4.  Promise made to thy Servant. In vain didst thou die, if—  
Here Tears gushed out so fast, as to block up all further passage for words, and leave him no power to speak the rest, except in sighs and tacit grief. He had not kept silence very long before he heard a small stir, which at first he little minded, thinking it to be the rushing of a Deer in the Thickets, till hearing a lamentable groan, he judged it to be of one in a worse case than himself, and therefore sought him out that he might help him. He was directed by the frequent reiteration of such mournful notes to a certain Bush hard by, where he could discern a comely Youth that had been barbarously tortured, and now ready to expire his breath, stripped of all his Clothes, and rifled of every thing but his native Beauty and Endowments. He, taking pity on the poor young man and his hopeful features, threw his Gown over him; and the Air clearing up, he made a shift to bear him home in his weak arms. But in the way he fell into a dead Swoon.   

CHAP. VII.  
The Penitents Sickness, and Signs of Recovery.  
AT this the charitable Father, almost struck like him, believing that his Spirit then had quite vanished, and that now nothing in him of life was any longer remaining; fell down with him to the ground. Such a desperate lifeless stupor had indeed benumbed the poor wretch's Soul, that although the touch and pressure of a Prophet has proved vital and salutary to more than one, and the embraces and the expansion of a man of God reviving to many a dead Sinner, yet could this produce no effect upon the appearing Corpse.  
Whereupon, after the Father had a little recovered himself, and was able, he went to prepare a Grave. When as he was going, the remembrance of his Vision, Promises of his God, and late apparition of an enlivened Carcase, soon called him back, and bade him not distrust the Veracity of him that could not lie.  
Being therefore come home into the hole of his devout Hermitage, and having laid down his sad burden, and wept over it; he made a gentle Fire (for it is near an impossibility to do any good in this case, if the Fires of Zeal be either extinct or over- vehement) to expel the cold and noxious Vapours. To it he brought the senseless body, in which he knew the Soul was buried; and left not off applying such Revocatives as he had always at hand, till he felt warmth therein, next breath: And at last came a deep sigh, (a glad note you will say however of life) which was followed by this short moan, O Eubulus, Eubulus!— But here he stopped, not able to go further. This so filled the spirits of Theosophus with joy, that (as his custom was) he could not forbear running out into Hymns of Praise and thankful Acknowledgements. Besides, it pleased him much to hear Eubulus named above any other; as either longing perhaps to hear some news of his long-absent Friend, or else not knowing the true cause, willing to attribute it to a supernatural Impulse; and even reckon the very calling and seeking after that reverend Physician of Souls, some kind of presage of Recovery. Now marking the lines of his face, he recollected how that amongst the tumultuous Rustics in their late Assault, he had observed his forward fury, and had often listened to the Character given him by this same worthy person, whom returning to himself, he presently called for. All which made him not desist his labour, until with continual chafing and rubbing, he brought him wholly to himself again.  
But he observes his Patient, in whose pale languid face but just afore there shone the remains of such feminine sweetness and winning prettiness, to be now covered over with Botches and Plague-sores, with the crust of a Leprosy, and the ruptures of Violence, scorched up with burning Fevers, and the Calenture of an intemperate Diet: tortured with sharp Dolours, with grievous twinging of Conscience; so that he looked upon him as the most deformed and the most loathsome Monster in the whole Universe, the most miserable Wretch, vile unhappy Caitive, that ever his eyes beheld. Yet even this increased (not lessened) his care and hopes. For the breaking out and the knowledge of the Disease, he took to be the first and most necessary step towards its Cure, and the surest prognostic of mending.  
It would have daunted I believe the most daring Sinner, have stopped him in his full career, but to have beheld here the foulness of Vice unmasked; whose ghastly affrighting looks deprived of all their adventitious beauty and false glozing pleasures, needed no Eloquence to paint them worse. Whilst his Breast (O all ye who read these Papers) was ransacked by this Ghostly Father, there appeared such strange forms of Evils, and so numerous, making it the place of their beastly Revels and licentious Scuffles, as must needs certainly have struck terror and awful confusion (if not repentance) into the careless worldly-minded man: yea, made the boldest and atheistical Champion of Hell quake with cold shiverings. The Doemoniack (so I think I may call him) was possessed by no less than a whole Legion of Infernal Elves; who were discerned then in thick swarms crawling about his wicked heart, that most foul Receptacle of all manner of Impurity, scarified with Libertinism, and even burnt into ashes with Lust and Youthful Desires.  
His Gall had likewise overflown all the rest of his better parts, and filled his Spirit with bitterness. His vital heat was in danger of being extinguished by those black putrid humours which rotten his entrails, and made them swell into such a vast hydropic bigness. The feculent settling of the Wine and strong Liquors so greedily guzzled down and merrily quaffed off, sent up continually unwholesome steams to annoy the rational faculties. They were here always darkened with thick pestilential fumes ascending from those slimy Caverns, his Bowels. Thus his Reason was disturbed, and Life endangered.  
Near his Liver lay a Bag of rank greenish Poison that discharged itself through all the veins, and instead of blood (the common Substitute of Life) circulated round this body of Sin. So that every Member was corrupted, all the powers of his Soul sick and weakened, lamed or dead, common Sense exiled, and his other Senses made the Caterers for Vice: his Ears tinkled after obscene and goatish Narratives; his Eyes (like two baleful Torches set on fire with Hell) still cast forth nought but impure and lustful Flames; his Palate was vitiated with Asian Luxury; his Hand with Larceny and Fraud; his Head and Brains were giddy; his Limbs seized with Rottonness; and his Tongue whet with Adder's venom.  
Good God, how was the Father surprised to behold this Monster of Iniquity, and Sink of all Uncleanness! How was he appalled with horror at the dissection of this so guilty and leprous a Soul, polluted and stained with so many defilements, depraved with such unheard-of Turpitude, and slurred after such a gross manner with the foulest and deadliest Impieties! But how glad was he to discover and scent those wild bestial Lusts kenneled in their proper Dens and lurking Holes! Thus the prudent and holy Confessor, by prying into the source and the causes of the Malady, he (like a wise Physician of the Body) learned to drive it out the better by a due application of medicinal and effectual means.  
And how also did the Wretch himself look! Now the scales fell from his Eyes, & Vice appeared to him in its ugly terrifying Aspect: All the sweets and the pleasures of his former lewd actions vanished, and nothing but the Sting was left behind: Now nothing seemed to be more ridiculously odious than an Habit of Sinning: Now did those precious Hours which he had sauntered away in wanton Dalliance, return to accuse him: His divine and noble Soul upbraided his Sloth and Negligence; and the beauty of Virtue was so ravishing in his eyes, as to make him esteem himself the blindest fool in nature, who had never yet courted her, or not courted her for herself: Now was he hearty sorry that ever he had offended the supreme Majesty of Heaven, and would not in barter for the whole World, consent to act over afresh those sins which might provoke him to anger.  
He now confessed Drunkenness to be a poisoned Potion, Sensuality and Intemperance to be but Swinish Delights and the very baits of Perdition, Prodigality to be a toyish idle Freak, and Arrogance a swelling Tumour of the Mind, Profaneness a bold extravagant Frenzy, and all his past course of life Madness and Folly.  
Esteeming these not ordinary Marks of future Health, the good Physician was still eager in continuing his help. He admonished his Patient to purge his Soul of that nastiness and filth in which she was bemired; to exorcise those Imps of Hell that were (he saw) industriously effecting his ruin, by sincere and holy Grief; and to cleanse his Ulcers with penitental Tears, those waters which are far better than 
* 2 King. 5. 12.  Abana or Pharphar to wash in, and wholesomer than the Pool of 
† Joh. 5. 2.  Bethesda when touched by an Angel.  
At this a violent passion seized his heart, and made his eyes gush out into floods of Tears. Which prepared him to utter with devout affection and humility this pious ancient Soliloquy, viz. Put me not to rebuke, O Lord—: There is no health in my flesh—, neither is there any rest in my bones, by reason of my sin—: My wounds stink and are corrupt through my foolishness—: My loins are filled with a sore disease, and there is no soundness in my flesh. I am feeble and sore broken—: I roar therefore for the very disquietness of my heart: my heart panteth, my strength faileth me, and the light of my eyes is gone from me.— And I truly am set in the plague,— Psal. 28.  
In this moanful Ditty (which was still now and then interrupted with grievous fighs and throbs) he went on lamenting the foulness of his Disease, and soliciting with great earnestness the comfortable succour and healing Touch of his merciful Redeemer: that Touch which was alone able to cure the Lunacy of a distempered brain, the complicated ills of an obstructed Spirit, and regenerate his Mind anew by unlodging those hellish Furies that nested within his breast. Having used this and some other select forms, he concluded all in the most excellent Comprizal of devout sorrow, Have mercy upon me— Psal. 51. to the end.  
After he had lain a good while in this humble and penitent posture, his looks began to be cheerful, his paleness to be tinged with a little red, his deformities grew less, and his sores dried up into scurf. Theosophus, who by these glad signs was ascertained that his inward parts were now thoroughly rinced and gargled by those purgative Doses he had afore given him, thinks time to anoint his Sores with a certain generous Balsam. Some call it Balm of Gilead, others the Panarion of the Gospel, but all know it to be the Blood of Christ, and that nothing else can cure a broken wounded Soul; nor even that, if the Wounds be not first made clean (for else how can it operate?) by the drops of a preparatory Contrition. He bade his Patient rely upon the Mercies of God, and the saving Name of JESUS; and having discoursed to him about an hour, of the nature and the effects of Repentance, (which will be too long to insert here) concluding with some observations on Spiritual Joy, told him that by the virtue of this heavenly Balsam (if he hindered not its working) he trusted before the following day should go down, to see him perfectly cured. Adding, that if on the morrow the nauseousness of his Stomach, all impure Qualms, that is, all remanent affections to sin, had left him; he might then, after a due and holy preparation, feed on the miraculous and medicinal Bread of Life.   

CHAP. VIII.  
The Mystical Feast unto which Theosophus carries his Charge.  
THe next day therefore being the great Christian Festival of Easter, the young man arose betimes to welcome the Morning- Sun of Righteousness, that now began to dawn upon his Soul, and to dart in thither his beams of Life. He fancied himself new risen from the death of Sin, freed from the corruption of the Grave, and the eternal prisons of the nethermost Pit. Of the Miracle of this day he had so great an Instance upon himself, that ever after he used to commemorate it as the Festival both of his Lords and (by the virtue thereof) of his own Resurrection.  
He was not long up, before the careful Theosophus came to give him his customary Visit; who perceiving in his smiling countenance the calmness and the serenity of his mind, and from the evenness of his pulse (the moderation and sedateness of his passions) guessing at the regular reparation of his Health; cannot now any longer forbear to congratulate this his so miraculous a Recovery. You see, my dear Youth (says he, stretching out his hands to Heaven in an holy amazedness) the power of that Sovereign Balsam! you know who made it; and who has been at the expense of a Miracle for your sake, and that also no ordinary one, even the God of Nature: he has, you see, condescended to form you anew, and reinstate you in Grace, by giving you another (and a much better) life. Be thankful therefore, good Son, and pay your Vows this day at his Altar: run forth, I advise you, and meet now the King of Glory, the Prince of Salem, the Emperor of the Holy Land. If you do this, he will pardon all your Misdeeds, will cure all your Diseases, and will enter you into the Bedrol of his Pilgrims. Now he is preparing to feast you at his Table, he expects to find you there, that he may number you among his Saints and Followers, the redeemed one's of Israel. Methinks I see you, dear Friend (my Patient I will call you no longer) prepared to entertain him within your heart, and am glad to see that you need not my invitation. Wherefore I shall reserve what I had to say to you, for them that lack it more. So he left him unto his private Meditations and Prayers.  
When not long after, having invested himself in an holy (but penitential) dress, he was led by his reverend Guide to a very fair and beautiful Temple not far off, in the midst of a gloomy religious Wood, commodiously enough seated for the devout retirement of the persecuted Followers of JESUS. It was elevated upon a small rising, decently built, and for the convenience thereof a long while resorted unto by Pilgrims of all Ranks and Conditions. But since the Roads to Jerusalem began to be unfrequented, this also was scarce ever visited, unless now and then by a few old decrepit Beggars.  
Hither they came, and having entered this holy place, they fell down prostrate upon their faces, worshipping towards the East. They had not lain long upon the cold Pavement, breathing out their Souls after JESUS, and the Delights which are at his right hand, before their ears were touched with the Sighs and soft Ejaculations of some religious Devotees. When casting their eyes off the ground, they among the rest spied their dear Eubulus. Very glad you cannot but guests they were; and very glad was Eubulus, to find the Youth whom he loved so affectionately, and had so long sought after, in such a place, with such a Friend; and to receive them both in safety, whom he heard the wild Foragers of the Voisinage thereabouts had torn and devoured. Nor was their Joy any whit allayed through the reverence of the place, which hindered them from so much as speaking to each other; but rather increased by their mutual assistance and fervency of Devotion, with all the increases that a religious Joy is capable of.  
The first Solemnities were done, and the Morning-Sacrifice offered up, when Theosophus made so powerful and divine an Exhortation, highly valuable for its Eloquence, Solidity, and Piety, to usher in the Feast; that nothing but the length could tempt me to omit. One passage however I cannot forget; for having excellently discoursed upon the Author and Dignity of that heavenly Treat, he tells those few who were present, That it was not meant to pamper their Lusts, or make them proud or lazy in the way: but to be their Viaticum and spiritual Repast in their Journey to Heaven; whence the Israelites leaving the Brick-kilns and slavery of Egypt, to pass through the Wilderness unto the Land flowing with Milk and Honey, received it in the posture of travelling, with their Loins girt, Sandals on their feet, and a Palmer's Staff in their hands, Exod. c. 12. v. 12.  
After which, with what humble deportment and veneration did they approach the holy Altar! With what ravishments of joy did they come to this Celestial Banquet! With what a steady and firm resolution did they purpose to follow their prime Leader JESUS, through all Difficulties and Hazards, unto the happy Land of Promise!  
But as soon as the blessed JESUS, the glorious and peaceable Prince of Jerusalem, descended with Myriad of Angels attending on him, how did their hearts burn within them! with what transcendency of Love, and vehemency of Desire, did they address him! But here I am struck dumb with reverence and amazement, unable to describe this sacred Mystery; which the Angels do with awful admiration delight to look into.   

CHAP. IX.  
The Penitents Regeneration.  
NEver was its effect more visible upon any, than upon this young happy Convert. Through the mysterious efficacy hereof, he was wonderfully changed into another man. It drove away his tyrannic Lusts and pleasant Torturers, making them lose their hold: made his cursed Executioners flee frightened from him; his vain Desires, with every cruel Vice and Murderer of his Soul, disappear. His Senses were released, his Brain disenchanted, all his filthy and hellish Inmates exorcised, not so much as one left behind, but all driven out, by the Priests sacred Charm, The Body of our Lord Jesus Christ—: those sweet, those all-powerful words! Thus set at liberty, he became free to give himself unto him who had freed him. And thus washed and cleansed in the blood of the holy Lamb, he presented his Body to be from thenceforth a pure and hallowed Temple, and his Soul a chaste devoted Sanctuary, unto the divine Spirit, the Spirit of Purity and Holiness.  
Fresh and holy thoughts began forthwith to bud and bloom within his mind; all his Members grew again like unto a little Infants: a clean purified heart was form in lieu of the other; and (that which divine Mythologists name) the old man rotten quite away, through God's anticreative power. So that the Quere of that Jewish Rabbi, How can a man that is old be born again? Joh. 3. would here have been evinced by plain unanswerable matter of fact. 
* Chap. 7.  Those tortures of Conscience which he had endured, were unto him the Pangs and Throws of this Second Birth. Whence his veins are now all filled with new Sap and vital Juice; every part of him is regenerate; his breast agitated by 
† Psal. 51. v 10, 12. The whole Man.  a free, a right Spirit; and that life which brought him hither, converted into perfect strength, the most healthful and sprightly vigour. There appears such beauty in his face, such lively Angelical force in his actions, that even his Guide (though conscious of the change) discards his memory, and mistakes him for a Citizen dropped down from the Celestial Jerusalem.  
It will not be an unpardonable Digression in this place, I hope, to acquaint you with what I have been told by the Pilgrims of those days, concerning this blessed Alteration in the young returning sinner. For though the Graces and the Ornaments of sincere Penitence, and the splendours of a Soul illuminated from Heaven, are not discerned by the carnal eye; they could not be hid from them. I am not able to tell you with how much pleasure these loving Pilgrims now looked upon him; but I know that they were wont to relate how his Visage, which was somewhile ago 
The Face.  disfigured with Jocundness and Sadness; with apish Grimaces and fantastic Merriments; with Revenge, and Love, and Anger, Fears and Jealousies; with Immodesty and Impudence; with contemptuous Mows, an unhandsome Laughter, and a proud Mien or Cast; at all times either pale and wan with Envy, or black with Fury, or wrinkled with Repinnings, or scorched with Choler; came to be adorned with the comely blushes of Modesty, with a graceful Bashfulness, devout untainted Mirth and holy Joy; with a strict Severity and Sadness; with the Image of God, the Image of Humility and Love, of Piety, Meekness, and Candour.  
Do not his Eyes, (said they one to another) those lewd treacherous Sentinels, that have so often betrayed him to 
The Eyes.  Olympia's imperious beauty, and with their lascivious Gazing and previous Adulteries been Accessories to all the foolish Defilements of his body; look more prettily drenched in Tears, or lifted up in Contemplation toward the Regions of Beauty and Holiness?  
They rejoiced extremely (for at the conversion of a Sinner there is joy not only in Heaven, Luke 15. 7. but 
The Ears.  upon Earth, by all good men and good women that know it, Psal. 119. 74.) that his Ears which were so deaf, should now be open to God's Word; that they should be sealed up so so fast against all impure and wanton Talk, against all the temptations of alluring Sirens, against Ribaldry and Profaneness, uncharitable and offensive Language, biting Raillery, the witty Reproaches of the Age, and all the vain and all the sinful Excursions of a lawless Member.  
As also that his Tongue (that little foolish part) formerly disordered with so many wild Extravagancies, with 
The Tongue.  Blasphemies and Obscoenity, Perjuries and Defamations; with the whispers of Calumny, of Peevishness and Discontent, with a trifling and scoffing Wit, with smooth Flattery and a vaunting Humour; so as to lash out into all the excesses of Impiety or Folly; should now be wormed of that currish madness, and composed anew to diviner strains, Hymns of Love and Praise.  
They could not but admire (O blessed Admiration!) to see his Hands 
The Hands.  that were not long before filled with Violence, now lifted up in Prayer, and reached forth in Charity: And to see his Feet, which were once so swift to shed Blood, 
The Feet.  now to tread in the ways of Peace and Meekness. They could not but admire to see such polluted Hands and Feet washed at the Altar, and the Leprosy that covered them, wiped off. But all this they ceased to admire, as soon as they considered the Goodness and the Power of his Redeemer, and remembered most of them the like Change not long before experimented upon themselves.  
He hath indeed other Desires and other Passions, other Hopes and other Resolutions, than afore 
The Change universal.  he had: his Labours, his Studies, his very Divertisements; all his Words, and Endeavours, and Performances, have no Agreeableness with what they were; are more satisfactory than ever, more eligible and more delightful. For his Cursed and Wolfish nature is changed into the Simplicity and Meekness of the Lamb; and the Malice of Serpents that was in him, is expelled by the Innocence of the Dove. Vastly different are his Sentiments, a great deal calmer and wiser; his judgement and opinion of things (for the most part) quite contrary to what they had been: Those toyish Pleasures which he so eagerly pursued and hunted after, with as great abhorrency he nauseates and loathes: His Palate relishes nothing but divine and holy Nutriment, nothing of an Earthly (much less of an Hellish) Gusto, of a Fire and Brimstone-hogo. Even the coarsest Austerities of Religion afford him more satisfaction and pleasure, than the very Softnesses and Delicacies of Caelia's bewitching Beauty. All her Fucuses and Charms prove too weak to prevail against him; for that his mind is fixed upon nobler Objects, his Soul disengaged from the World and from the Flesh, and all his Senses freed at length from the Vassalage of Vice. If any man gins to wonder at so strange Events, at so total and miraculous a Transmutation, and has not, so it be real, any dislike against it; he is in a fair way, if he persist, willing, to effect the same upon himself: Otherwise, if he thinks it was not worthy of the Joy and Admiration that it caused in the charitable Devotees, who were Contemporaries, and blames them therefore; he must be either very ill-natured, or very insensible; and, I fear, in a worse state than he apprehends. It pleases me much that their Charity was as signal as his Conversion; no wonder if this heavenly Penitent become straight the love and the delight of the little Tribe.  
If one could suppose a deformed Cripple with prominent and distorted Limbs, his Sinews contracted, his Joints dislocated, his Skin spotted, his Flesh running with Sores, and every way misshapen; to shift all these for an handsome and a sound Body, to shake off his Infirmities, and put on a personable and lovely Mien: if further yet, one could suppose a Brute to become rational, and discourse; or a natural Idiot to be made wise; or a foul Toad to leave his poison and his skin, and grow up into a beautiful Man; such was this Change, that was effected by the gentle Hover of God's Spirit upon his Soul: It was no less, but greater far and nobler: if any Comparison can be made betwixt a Celestial Substance and an Earthly one.  
Thus his stony and obdurate heart, which the Thunders of the Law could not shiver, is now softened with the Blood of the Passover: He who but a little while afore mattered not the Threats and Terrors of Mount Sinai, is now touched and moved with the sweet Gospel-Messages of Love and Peace. Whence ever after he related great things of this Evangelical Feast; how it was the Seal of his Pardon, the Christian Passport of his Heavenly Pilgrimage, and the beginning of his Union with God: And how it gave him all things, even by removing him from them, and making him desire nothing but JESUS, and to be with him in PARADISE.   

CHAP. X.  
An Eucharistical Meditation.  
AS soon therefore as he was returned back again with the Eremit into his Cell, and shut himself up in a close apartment thereof, his Soul by rapturous flights of Joy strove to ascend upward, and exert herself in these following Acts of devout Acknowledgement.  

I.  
I am well pleased that the Lord hath thus heard the 
§ 1. An Act of Thanksgiving and Adoration.  voice of my Prayer. Blessed is he that now cometh in the Name of the Lord: Hosanna in the highest! Blessed is he that cometh in the Name of the Lord: Hosanna here below! Thrice hail, most triumphant Prince of Heaven! Hail, holy, wonderful, eternal King, great Deliverer, successful Combatant, the Redemption of the Captives and the Oppressed, and (upon this day) the First-Fruits and Hopes to those that sleep of a glorious Resurrection! Hallelujah! Salvation, and Glory, and Honour, and Power, be to the Lord our God. Blessed is he that cometh in the Name of the Lord: Hallelujah! I adore thee, I worship thee, I love thee, I magnify thee, O thou Conqueror of Hell and Death, victorious Champion over the Infernal Forces: I will magnify thee as much as I am able, and will still strive to magnify thee more. All hail! welcome, sweetest Saviour Jesus! welcome, Lamb of God, the Lifegiving Sacrifice, the spiritual Refection, the holy and accepted Peace-Offering, the Deliverance and Comfort of all faithful Souls! Welcome, victorious Lamb; all the mighty Hosts of Heaven fall down before thee, and with everlasting Praises delight to celebrate the glories and triumphs of so strange a Love. And here below, under their feet, I would do the same. Thou art the powerful and wise, the Lord of Hosts, the King of Loves thou art called, and thy Conquests are spread abroad as far as the ends of the World. When the terrors of Death encompassed me round, when the nethermost Hell threatened to devour me quick, and Satan was ready to grasp my polluted Soul; then found I deliverance, than saw I my returning Victor laden with their spoils, and having trampled on and crushed their power, bidding me live. Behold, even he whom I fought against has obtained for me the victory, and has overcome me with his love, and with his love has made me overcome. The great God, the mighty Saviour of Nations, hath pitied a poor perishing wretch; he hath snatched my life from out the paws of the devouring Lion, and the sulphurous stench and horrors of yonder black Abyss.   

II.  
But who can tell me how all this came to pass? what 
§ 2. An Act of Contrition or Humility.  was there in me, that I should be thus highly honoured; or my life worth, that it should be ransomed at so dear a rate as the death of my God? Why should God the Father, whom I had offended, send his Son to die for me? Why should God the Son, whom I had so sinned against, bear the load and punishment of that sin? Tell me, what could the Creator see worthy of so great savour, in such an abominable and filthy Creature: or the Lord of all things, in his proud presumptuous Vassal; the Holiest in a sinner wallowing in his Lusts? How came unworthiness and Pride, Rebellion and Sin, perverse Dust and Ashes, to find thus instead of the heaviest curse, and dreadfullest execution of a just and fiery Indignation, so extraordinary a Blessing; so far not only above my merit, but my comprehension? This is all Prodigy of Mercy. Shall the careless and disobedient, the refractory and murmuring Servant be rewarded, be feasted with his Master? Shall the wilful and obstinate offender be pardoned; the despicable and haughty Villain be pitied? Who can believe there is so great Charity for an Enemy, or such Honours as these for the vilest of the children of men? This was indeed too great for me to expect or wish for; will take up all the wonder of Men and Angels— Ah! have have not my Crimes crucified him, my Passions made him bleed; and could he yet do and suffer so much for me? Has not my Pride, alas, stripped him naked, my Intemperance and Luxury forced him to fast? And did not my Covetousness make him poor, my Ambition a slave? But he hath covered my Nakedness and Folly, he hath feasted me with his holy ones, he hath filled me with the Riches of his Grace, and hath freed me from the slavery of sin. The bitterness of my Spirit hath been worse to him than the very Gall he tasted; my Peevishness and Malice, than the Vinacre he drank: my Honours have wreathed him a Crown of Thorns. The rude Soldier pierced but his side, when I pierced his very heart with sorrows. My Jollity was that anguish which made his Virginal Body to be drained all over bloody droops of Sweat. My Scoffs at Religion have been far more intolerable, have entered deeper into his Soul, than the Contempt and Mockeries of the Praetorian Band. Nay, my very Devotion and Piety has murdered him; my Addresses have been criminal and traitorous, and with Judas have I studied to betray him with a kiss. O Prodigy of Villainy! But neither is this all. Ah me! I can scarce utter that which is still more black. Oft would my Wickednesses have offered Violence even to his glorified Body, and ripped up his Wounds afresh. Thus have I opened his side by violating those mysterious Sacraments which proceeded thence: my best works put him to shame. Nor indeed could I any otherwise have claimed his infinite Mercy, but that I am infinitely vile, and infinitely sinful—   

III.  
Dearest Jesus, how admirable are the effects of thy 
§ 3. An Act of Wonder.  Goodness! How glorious and condescending is thy Love, that could do all this for me! and how disproportionate are the Returns of thy sovereign Bounty to the deserts of a perfidious disloyal wretch! I came not unto thee of myself, but thou hast drawn me with Cords: though I refused, yet found I protection. My Gild was thy Condemnation; yet through thee am I saved: Thou hast reached forth to me the Sceptre, with the same hand which my Vanity had mocked with a Reed. Can I ever expect to receive life from him whom mine Iniquities bruised, and even rob of his? a Cure, through his Stripes, which mine Immoralities both caused and deserved? Is not this the height of Wonder and surprising Ecstasy? Was there ever Patience like to that with which my Lord hath forborn me! or ever Love like this with which my Lord hath loved me!   

iv  
Look down, ye blessed Spirits, and see the Wonders 
§ 4. An Act of Devout Remembrance.  that your God hath done here below for a miserable sinning Caitive. I will declare before the great Congregation the marvellous Operations of his Almighty Love. O most adorable King, though I confessed myself unworthy, altogether unworthy to gather up the Crumbs that fall from thy Table; thou hast for all this placed me amongst thy friends and best beloved ones, and wonderfully fed me with thy own Body and Blood, the choicest Viands of the Gospel. And therefore will I thank thee, thank thee now, and again, and thank thee for ever, for that thou hast given me this Earnest of a joyful Resurrection, the Food and the Medicine of Immortality, and Viaticum in this Pilgrimage which I am now undertaking into a remote Country. Now I know for a certain that thou hast ratified my Pardon by the effusion of thy Blood; and am fully satisfied, that if I be not wanting to myself, I shall one day be with thee in Paradise. For what more canst thou do for me? Am I not remarked with the most signal expressions of thy favour, by being this day admitted to the all-powerful and venerable Mysteries? Am I not united to thee? Am I not incorporated, with the nearest Union possible, to thyself; and honoured with the highest Honours and Privileges of the Sons of God. Thou hast entered into a new Covenant with me, when I had broke the first; made me one of thy Retinue, and sealed my Inheritance to an everlasting Crown in the presence of thy Saints. 
* Chap. 8.  According to the word of the man of God, thou hast cured all my Diseases, and entered me into the Roll of thy Pilgrims. For this rejoice in the Lord Jesus, O my Soul. He is that mysterious Rock, the Rock of Israel, whence gushed out these refreshing streams in a Wilderness and thirsty Land. He opened the Treasures of Heaven, and reigned down Mannah upon my parched Soul; he filled the Hungry with good things, and refreshed my drooping Spirits with unwonted Vigour. Lest I should faint and die in the Wilderness, he hath provided for me this same Wonderful Food, and reached it forth to me by the hands of an Angel; who touched me with his wings, saying to my Soul, Arise and eat, for this journey is too great for thee, 1 King. c. 19 v. 7.   

V  
O that in the strength of this Meat, I may walk my 
§ 5. An Act of Desire.  forty days and forty nights, as did the persecuted Prophet unto Horeb the Mount of God; or as the ancient Pilgrims in the Desert as many years, and at last enter the Promised Land, and have my Portion with the Saints of Israel. The Hart brayeth after the Water-brooks, so panteth and breatheth my Soul, O Jesus, after the Rivers of Joy which are at thy right hand. My Soul is athirst for the Living God. O when shall I come and appear before the presence of God   

VI  
I have tasted, and I 
§ 6. An Act of Acknowledgement mixed with Faith and Love.  know that I shall live for ever, if my corrupt stomach turn it not into death. For thou hast said, and I do believe, that 
* Joh. 6. 54.  whosoever eateth thy Flesh, and drinketh thy Blood, hath everlasting life, and thou wilt raise him up at the last day. Thou art the Bread of Heaven, the living bread which came down thence and was broken for me; of which he that eats not, cannot live; and he that eats, cannot die: the incomprehensible, the supersubstantial Food, the Refection of Virgins and elect Souls; both the Master of the Feast, and the Feast itself; a Priest for ever after the Order of Melchisedeck, to feed and bless me. Thou art the great Offering of Peace, the perpetual Atonement, the Lamb still standing as slain, and thy Blood speaketh better things either than that of Abel, or the Sacrifices of old. Thou hast admitted me to thy mysterial Supper; and I know that thou wilt likewise call me to sit down at thy Marriage-Feast. How joyful will it be to see a Marriage celebrated in Paradise, and, as was the Mother of Mankind (in Paradise also) brought by the Deity unto her Husband Adam, to see the Bride given thee by the Almighty Father, and hear the Nuptials sung by Choires of Angels; to see thee joined to thy triumphant Church in mysterious and inseparable Union; and to participate of the joys of thy Sister, thy Love, thy Dove, thy Undefiled, thy fair Spouse, purchased with thy dearest Blood! O how happy are those that shall be then invited! And shall I (such an unworthy wretch) be one of those happy persons? Have I not these Pledges that I shall? Yes I have: and I will take care lest I break or lose them. Wherefore I love and adore thee, my bleeding Saviour: I love thee, because thou hast loved me, and gavest thyself for me, washed me in the Rivers of thy Blood, those waters of Life and Joy. I love thee; and O that I could love thee more. For how can I but love thee for this? I will love thee, O Lord, my strength: the Lord is my Rock— In the clefts of this Rock, in the waters issuing thence, are my Pollutions cleansed: my Corruptions are mortified by thy death: I have bathed myself in thy Wounds, O holy and eternal Victim, I have washed my Sores in the salutary Fountain of thy Side, and found there health and comfort unto my languishing Spirits.   

VII.  
How are the Powers of Darkness that gaped for my 
§ 7. An Act of Exultation and Joy.  ruin confounded and disappointed, now to behold this sudden unexpected Change! How do they fret and gnash their teeth, and with what lamentable howl curse themselves, who were not able to hold fast their Prey! Even Death and Satan are vanquished: the Grave and Sin dismantled and subdued: all the Enemies of my Soul discomfited and quelled. Yea, they that seek my Soul are scattered, they are all fled from thy presence, O God of Jacob: Thou hast sent from Heaven, and delivered me from them that would swallow me up. For mine Adversaries conspired together to take away my life, they fattened me for destruction: many and strange were the Monsters that sought to devour me. And who besides Jesus would have entered into the lists, would have set upon so great, so terrifying an Enterprise as this was, for the sake of a poor evil-deserving and despised wretch? Who was there in Heaven or in Earth, but he, whom I had infinitely offended, to take up my Cause? Who was there found beside, either ready or able, to be my Rescuer? Was there any beside him, who to be this, suffered in my stead, emptied himself, bore the guilt, underwent the shame, endured the rage of men and Devils, a lingering and painful Crucifixion, and the dreadful phials of his Father's wrath? Couldst thou then, my dearest Saviour, submit to all this for me; and how weak, how unanswerable are my Praises! how flat and dull! Lord, I know thou didst, and I acknowledge mine iniquities, but will dispute no longer with such Goodness as thine. Unsearchable are the depths of thy Mercy, and thy loving kindness past finding out. I would declare the wonders of thy sovereign love, and speak of all thy marvellous works; but that they are so great and so astonishing, so secret and so reserved, that I will rather adore than pry into these Mysteries of my Redemption. And I will be glad and rejoice in thy Name, because mine Enemies are turned back and put to confusion: for this will I praise thee as long as I have any breath, and all that is within me shall eternally magnify thy holy Name. Thou, my Lord, art my Light and my Salvation; whom then shall I fear? Thou art the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? With thy right hand and thy holy arm hast thou rescued me from the powers of Hell; raised me up like dead Lazarus from the Grave, and killed those Vermin that were gnawing my flesh and consuming my Spirit. Thou hast raised me with thy Call, 
* Joh. 11. 43.  Come forth: See, Lord, at thy call, even the dead obeys, and comes running to thee. How far do thy Conquests extend? My Lord and my God, thou hast gotten thy self the victory. The Lamb has overcome: the sprinkling of his Blood maketh the destroying Angel pass over, and hurt me not. Worthy is that Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing. Amen. Hallelujah!  
Here he bowed down with his face to the ground, in imitation of those ever-happy adoring Spirits, who inhabit the LAND of GOD; and in a delightsome Ecstasy cried out several times, Victory! victory! victory! The Lamb hath overcome. His fledged Soul, before the whole Court of the great God, thereupon made a most solemn Dedication of herself; and with all Humility and Veneration approaching his Throne, uttered these Purposes and Acts of Holy Resolution: nor was at all tired with the length.   

VIII.  
— But how shall I add 
§ 8. An Act of Oblation.  unto the triumphs of the Lamb? What shall I render unto the Lord for all his Benefits towards me, for all these Manifestations of his Love and Power towards a poor perishing sinner? I am nothing, and I have nothing but what I received from thee, blessed God; what therefore shall I give thee? I give thee, having nothing else to give, that which is thine already, that for which thou wast content to undergo a painful and ignominious death; I give thee, dearest Lord; myself: I am thine, do with me as thou pleaseth. I do here thankfully and humbly present thee all the Faculties and the Members of my Body and of my Soul: My Thoughts and Words, my Actions, Intentions, Senses, Passions, Desires, and Endeavours; my Fame, Liberty, and Life, any Death and all, I offer up to thee: All the Days that I am to live, all that I Can, all that I Have, or Am, shall be entirely thine. It is indeed a miserable Oblation, a vile useless Gift I offer; but it is that which thou demandest, and with which I am sure thou wilt not be displeased: that which thou hast dearly bought, and which ought not to be mortgaged away by me to any other: that which I cannot, without the basest Ingratitude and terriblest Sacrilege, keep from thee; which is more than once, yea than an hundred times, due to thee: a polluted House, an idolatrous Temple and defiled it is, therein to entertain the Holiest of the Lord; but polluted and defiled as it is, so much the more it needs him to make it clean, and purge it from Idolatry.  

* Cant. c. 3. v. 2, 4. c. 6. 2. c. 7. 10.  Heretofore sought I him whom my Soul loved: I sought him, but I found him not; for I sought him in the streets and open places, in the World and in my Pleasures. But no sooner had I passed a little from them, than I found him whom my Soul loved: I took hold of him, and left him not; till I had brought him hither, and received him into my heart. Behold, my Beloved is mine, and I am his: I am my Welbeloveds, and his Desire is towards me. Come in therefore, holy and ever-blessed Redeemer, my Love, my Dearest, and take possession of me.  
I am now restored to myself, by being restored to thee: I am marked for thine, and I am far better, and more mine own than ever, by being so None in Heaven or Earth did I desire but thee, blessed Redeemer, and lo thou hast given me thyself, and by this Gift hast given me All; for thou art All, and without thee every thing besides is as nothing: Thou art All that I love or fear, All that I wish for, and All that I enjoy, All that I delight in, worship, and admire. For thy sake I will despise all the trifling Pleasures and Vanities of this lower World, and trample under my feet whatsoever is valued by the Folly or the Vice of the Sons of Men.   

IX.  
How sweet are the Conquests 
§ 9 The Petition.  of thy Love, dearest Jesus! I am thine, I am wholly thine; and do thou so keep me still. Besides thee, truly, many Lords I had; but such as would have cast me into the Prison of Intolerable Burn: and thou hast prevailed against them, and gotten me to thyself. I adjure thee therefore, blessed Saviour, by thy precious Sufferings and victorious Passion, by the tender bowels of thy Mercy and whatsoever thou countest dear, never to suffer them to recruit their Forces; lest they be again too hard for me: never to let them after this take possession of that which is thine, or profane that place which thou hast set now apart for thy Temple. And that I may bless thee, and exult over the mighty Armies that come forth against me, defying thee the Lord of Hosts; make me able to pursuse them, until they be quite scattered: to subdue and foil their weak Remains.   

X.  
For I am resolved never more to associate myself with 
§ 10. An Act of Resolution and Dereliction of the World.  thy Murderers, nor will I ever any more harbour thy Persecutors within my breast; but will bear a professed Enmity to all thy Enemies; and though perhaps they hid themselves in the inmost recesses of my heart, yet with the justest anger and violence will I drive them thence. I will not henceforwards be ashamed to wear thy Badge, or to fight under the sacred Banner of thy Cross: I will follow thee whithersoever thou callest; and though I be beset around with Temptations and Infirmities, through thy help I will break my way through them all, and be more than Conqueror. Nor will I be a whit dismayed at the cloudiness or inconveniencies of my Passage; so at last I arrive at the calm and quiet Regions of Paradise: there to be eternally blessed with the sight of thee. For have I not this day to my unspeakable satisfaction and refreshment, tasted of the Fruit of the Tree of Life which groweth in the midst thereof? and how can I be any longer detained from seeking out this place, the place that thou inhabitest; or be at rest before I gain admittance into this same Spiritual. Eden, restored us by thee the second Adam? Not all the fiery Trials I must expect to suffer, nor 
* Gen. 3. 24.  the Angels with their flaming Swords, shall terrify or drive me back, shall obstruct my passage, or keep me from laying hold on thee who art both the Truth of the Tree, and Giver of that Paradise. I have tasted and seen how gracious the Lord is and surely if not for the Miracles sake, yet for the Loaves I cannot choose but follow him; unless I make myself worse than the worst of all his Followers leave him sooner than the Multitudes that followed him for Bread. I know that my divine Soul is to be satisfied with no other Food than this, that she can never hereafter be contented with the husks and the draff of Swine, the sordid delights of the World. How can I any longer relish the Apples of Death, or find pleasure in reaching out my hands after the forbidden Fruit, after unlawful Lusts and the desires of a disordered Appetite?  
I will not departed from this holy persons Cottage, afore he has instructed me in the way, and shown me the Path in which alone thou art to be found. How do I already long and burn with desire to begin my Pilgrimage, and follow thee through this thorny and briary World? I come, Lord Jesus, I come, I can no longer resist the Charms of thy Almighty Goodness. I am hearty sorry that ever I offended thee, or countenanced thy hated Rivals, preferring a common Morsel before the holy Bread, and a Lust before my God. But now I am resolved, as far as weak humane nature will permit, never more to sin against my gracious Lord; or with my Transgressions to wound the merciful and holy Jesus, who was wounded for them: to caress and entertain his Enemies, or join myself with those that afflicted his Soul. Farewell, all my past Delights; farewel, ye impure and accursed Lusts that have slain the Lord of Life. I bid you all eternally farewel. From henceforth I hope we are never more to meet. My sins, those vile Assassins' that went along in combination with the high Priests, and bound themselves together in an horrid Confederacy against his life, I can no longer endure to see, except it be to crucify them upon his Cross. My unjust Violences that have pierced his hands and his feet, my wicked Pleasures that have pierced his Soul, I will lay down at the foot of his Cross, and there put them to a most just and deserved death. They, even they, were the Nails that wrenched the tender Body of my Saviour: They have crucified that just One, have slain the Lords Christ, and hanged the great Prophet and Saint of Israel upon a Tree. For this I will detest and abhor them, I will dash them in pieces upon the stones, and throw them down headlong from the Rock of my Deliverance. Adieu, ye sweet and traitorous Vices; the Murderers of my Lord are no fit Companions for me: I received you into my breast, but ye ingratefully betrayed me; and if he had not sustained your fury, ye had delivered me up to everlasting Burn.   

XI. An HYMN of Eucharist.  

1.  
Rejoice with me now, all ye Heavenly Hosts who take delight in the Conversion of a Sinner: for I who was dead am alive again, and who was lost am found.  
I will rejoice greatly in the Lord, and my Soul shall be joyful in my God:  
For he hath clothed me with the Garments of Salvation, and covered me with the Robe of Righteousness:  
He hath decked me like a Bridegroom, and as a Bride tireth herself with Jewels.  
Behold, God is my Salvation! I will trust and will not fear, for my Lord God is my strength and my song.  
I will magnify thee, O Lord: Thou hast exalted me, and hast not made my Foes to rejoice over me.  
O Lord, thou hast maintained the cause of my Soul, and redeemed my Life.  
Thou hast delivered me from the choking of the Fire on every side: from the depth of the Belly of Hell.  
Bless the Lord, O my Soul, and forget not all his Benefits, who hath now forgiven all thy sins, and healed all thy infirmities:  
Who saveth thy life from destruction, and still crowneth thee with Mercy and Compassions:  
Who hath satisfied thy mouth with good things, and renewed thy Vigour like the young Eagles.  
He hath given Meat to them that fear him, and is ever mindful of his Covenant.  
He hath prepared a Table before me, against them that trouble me.  
He fed me also with the finest Wheat-flour, and with Honey out of the stony Rock hath he satisfied me.  
He made a Feast of fat things, a Feast of fined Wines and fat things full of marrow; of Wines fined and purified.  
He brought me into the Wine-Cellar, and stayed me with Flagons: His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth support me.  
He hath trodden the Wine-press, and there was none to help: and hath given me thereof this pleasant Wine to drink; a Cordial drawn from his bleeding heart.  
He shall show me the Path of Life: in his presence is fullness of Joy, and at his right hand are Pleasures for evermore.  
He strengtheneth the weak hands, and comforteth the feeble knees: He will make my feet like Hinds feet, and will make me to walk upon high places.  
So shall I run and not be weary, and shall walk and not faint.  
Thou, my Soul, shall dwell on high: Thy defence shall be the munitions of Rocks, Bread shall be given thee, and thy Waters shall be sure.  
Thine eyes shall see the King in his glory, they shall behold the Land afar off.  
Everlasting joy shall be upon thee, thou shalt obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and mourning shall flee away.   

2.  
Thou hast brought me, O God, out of the horrible Pit, out of the Mire and Clay, and set my feet upon the Rock, and ordered my go: and hast put a new Song in my mouth: a Song of Thanksgiving to my God.  
Mighty Jesus, great are the wondrous works which thou hast done; like as be also thy thoughts which are unto me, sweetest Saviour.  
I would declare and speak of them, but they are more than I am able to express.  
The Snares of Death compassed me round, the Pains of Hell got hold upon me: I found trouble and sorrow, but thou hast heard the voice of my cry and saved me.  
My Soul thou hast delivered from Death, mine Eyes from Tears, and my Feet from Falling.  
I cried unto thee, and thou hast healed me.  
Thou hast brought up my Soul from the Grave, thou hast kept me alive that I should not go down into Hell.  
I will therefore walk before the Lord in the Land of the Living: and thy Statutes will I make my Songs in the House of my Pilgrimage: yea, my delight shall be ever in thy Commandments.  
I have sworn, and am steadfastly purposed to keep thy righteous Judgements: Away from me, ye wicked, I will keep the Commandments of my God.  
He shall inherit the Land, he shall possess thine holy Mountain, that trusteth in thee.  
O quicken thou me in the way; I wait for thee in the way of thy Truth: the desire of my Soul is to thy Name, and to the remembrance of thee.  
How sweet are thy words unto my throat! yea, sweeter are they than honey in my mouth.  
Thy Words are found by me, and I did eat them, and thy Word was unto me the joy and rejoicing of my heart.  
The Lord himself is the Portion of mine Inheritance, and of my Cup: I am my Welbeloveds, and my Well-beloved is mine.  
The Lot is fallen unto me in a fair ground; yea, I have a goodly Heritage.  
How amiable are thy dwellings, thou Lord of Hosts! My Soul hath a desire and longing to enter into the Courts of the Lord: my heart and my flesh rejoice in the living God;  
Who feedeth in pleasant Pastures, and leadeth me beside the Waters of Comfort.  
Therefore my Song shall be always of thy loving kindness: with my mouth will I ever be showing thy Truth from one Generation to another.  
O praise the Lord, all ye his Hosts: sing unto the Lord, O ye Saints of his, and give thanks at the remembrance of his Holiness.  
Let the Heavens rejoice, and the Earth be glad: for this is the day which the Lord hath made; a day to be had in everlasting remembrance.   
No sooner had he ended, but his honest Guide came to prepare him to set out on his Pilgrimage; but entering in upon him, found him almost elevated from the ground, with his arms stretched forth as if they meant to grasp something very much desired, and his eyes fixed upwards; whilst a lovely Angellike brightness shone upon his face, rendering his Devotion most amiable. The Guide was so delighted to view this heavenliness in his beloved Charge, that he would have retired back, through fear of interrupting him.  
But the Youth discovers him; and ashamed that he was seen, modestly turns aside, saying to him, My dear Father, have you brought me my Eubulus with you? To which he answered, Eubulus indeed left us at the Temple in great haste, but I judge it was only to set his Pilgrims a little onward the way; after which he may have better leisure for us. Why sure then (said the Youth) he might have taken me along with him too. Must I alone be left behind? Once I am confident he thought me not unworthy of his care and pity; else why did he not suffer me to perish? why kept he me from dropping into ruin? Has he delivered me from so many Enemies, Precipices and Dangers, to forsake me at last?    

CHAP. XI.  
The Fruits of Eubulus his Mission.  
JUst then as they were speaking, they thought they heard a clacking at the outer wicket of the Lodge: And as soon as it was opened, who should they find waiting there, but this very same Eubulus; whom their joy presently introduced? Which joy was so great, that a good while was spent in profound gazing on each other, in mutual Embraces, and in all the Arts of silent endearments; afore they knew how to express it in words, or welcome (any otherwise) their long-expected Stranger.  
The first who broke silence was the young Penitent: Pray tell me (said he) my dearest Monitor, how you came this day to leave us; tell me, good Eubulus, why we parted so abrupty at the Temple. I was even afraid you had forgot me. You see, my dear Son (said Eubulus) that for your sake I am returned again so soon: nor could I in truth be any longer absent from you, although I knew you here to be safe enough; yea, as well as my heart could wish you. My rejoicing was almost unutterable, to find you to day in so holy a place and posture as I did: and much more to find you (pointing at Theosophus) with this Reverend men. But pardon me if I could not tarry then to speak unto you, through fear of such Irregularities as might perchance have happened, had I left the care of those poor Pilgrims I conducted thither. Whence I carried them straight to a Shepherd's Cottage hard by, who is called Vranius, more innocently pleasant than those of whom Arcadia boasts; and unto him have committed them, until you also be fitted for the Journey, so as to bear them company.  
The Youth could not here forbear from embracing him again, and telling him how much he longed to be on this Journey to the Holy Land. And as the two aged Fathers were discoursing about their great Concerns, he could think of nothing but his Journey, and the miraculousness of his recovery from the Grave. All within him was transport of Joy and Gladness, and in the very midst of his Discourse he would say unto himself, Rejoice therefore, O my Soul, and praise thy Lord, who has at last brought thee back unto himself. Rejoice with me, ye glorious Spirits who attend his Throne, being always ready to congratulate the recovery of a dying Soul; and all ye who have left the World and put on Palmer's Weeds, that there is one more added to your number. I have received the Calais of Salvation, and will therefore be glad: My Soul shall always praise the Lord. And then he would start, and speak again to his Friends, and then speak inwardly to himself, But what made thee to be so kind to me, holy Jesus? What have I ever done to merit thus thy favour? Couldst thou see any thing worthy of thee, in a leprous Soul spotted with those innumerable Stains and Defilements? Thus was he fixed upon Heaven, and thus conversed with the place of his Desire: whereas none can conceive the pleasure of his thoughts, but those good Souls who have at any time felt the like, and are not altogether unacquainted with Celestial Ravishments. Then presently he took Eubulus, and with all the expressions of Gratitude imaginable, related unto him aside, what great things the good and wise Theosophus had done for his Soul, the several passages of his Sickness, and the whole course of its Cure. He now divided his Joy with his Grief, so as not one should lessen the other, and so as you could not guests which was the greatest; while he told him of the many Diseases of his Sinsick Soul, and the Infernal Troops that had haunted him, and cohabited with him, and how miraculously he was rescued from their Tyranny; aggravating the foulness of his Crimes, and the baseness of his Apostasy, and extolling as high as he was able the Goodness of his Redeemer. This was very glad News, you may be sure, to his Eubulus; who would have been content to hear him a longer while recount those pretty sad Occurrences and joyful Changes.  
When Theosophus, the Sun being about setting, called them to sit down to a frugal Supper. Now because it was a day so solemn, in which, besides, the divine Goodness brought all these things to pass; a Feast to them of such great Rejoicing both for what it remembered, and for what had happened in it; one part of Theosophus his Vision hereby being happily fulfilled, and they so surprisingly met: Before they sat down, they judged it fit therefore to send up their Praises (with the Choir of all Creatures) to the supreme Majesty of Heaven and Earth. For they (good Souls) who thought themselves bound at all times, and for all things, to pay Him tributary Thanks, could not at this time, and for so many things, forbear from turning their Congratulations of each other, into Adorations of Him. Doth not (said one of them) every Creature which is in Heaven, and on the Earth, and under the Earth, and such as are in the Sea, and all that are in them, bow down and worship our Creator? And can we alone of all his Creatures be silent? Then they bowed all three, and said, Glory be to God on high! Blessing, honour, glory, and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the Throne, and unto the Lamb for ever. Blessed be the Lord our God from everlasting to everlasting. With Seraphins, Cherubins, Thrones, Virtues, Powers, Dominations, Principalities, Archangels, Angels, the holy Animals surrounding the Throne of the Great King, the four and twenty Elders, all the mighty Princes and glorious Lovers in that happy Court, all the heavenly Hosts, with these and all the Pilgrims arrived there, Patriarches, Prophets, Apostles, Evangelists, Martyrs, Confessors, Virgins, Widows, holy Doctors, and all holy and humble Men and Women; we praise thee, we bless thee, we worship thee, we give thanks unto thee, and shall ever love, O God, to celebrate thy Glories.— For this let no profane Person blame their Piety.  
After they were seated at the Table, and the Supper was blessed, Theosophus said to Eubulus, You satisfied me; but now how much Calodulus stirred himself to get off the imprisonment from you, and both my other Friends and dear Assistants! but I long to hear how you have succeeded in your Labours. The Youth told him also, He was impatient to know what had befallen him, since he was taken from him by those ill men; and where he came to light on those Pilgrims whom he spoke of. Eubulus promised to tell them in order what they desired, and thus began.  
Most Reverend Father Theosophus, after that you had sent me out, together with my worthy Fellow-labourers in Christ, Orthodoxus and Vranius, to visit the Roads and Highways, with charge that we should bring to you all the Sick and the Lame we could find, to be healed and made whole; and that we should give Directions to, and set aright as many as straggle out of their way, and proffer them safe conduct to the Holy Land; and had therefore disposed us for several parts, that we might bring the more in unto you, and gather a company of Pilgrims not inconsiderable for their number: We all, after about a years' Travels, met together, according to our promise, in the delightful Valley of Edena, to give each other an account of our success; but without any intent of returning back to you as yet. We had sad Stories enough to tell one to another; and here we passed some weeks, employing them as well as we could. I should be of a very hard nature, if I could without Tears relate unto you how ill we succeeded. For though we said never so much, we could not persuade the Sick that they were so; and those who halted thought themselves to run in the Paths of Righteousness: they that were poor, esteemed themselves most rich; and they that were miserable, most happy: If any one was so misled as to lose himself, he yet verily believed that all the World beside was lost, and he alone in the Way which would bring him to Paradise. Nay, some thought they should possess the Canaan of the Blessed, without so much as going through the Red Sea, or passing over Jordan; without being baptised into the Death of Christ, or purified in the River of Life that parts our eternal Happiness. As many as were able ran from us, and those that were not able, made a shift to crawl away, and kick at us. My Advice was disgustful and harsh: Orthodoxus' Reason not at all agreeable to their Errors: and even the Pleasantness and divine Eloquence of our Vranius liked not. We all suffered very much, only I think if there were any difference of our Sufferings, Orthodoxus had the hardest measure. Having now past these Storms and Brunts of the World, here I told you we thought to rest.  
But the HOLY WAR growing still more fierce, we could not expect to lie long hid in our beloved Retirement. The Soldiers who were sent to ravage that part of the Country, quickly found us out, and made us their Prisoners. As we were tumultuously carried thence, (Good God) how many dismal sights had we before us, and round about us! I am sure it was not over-pleasant to our eyes to see such Harras and Havoc made ; to see the Earth laden with dead Bodies, and the Waters mixed and defiled with Blood. The Devils themselves might glut their Envy, with seeing what we saw. In truth, nothing ever frighted us more.  
My Friends, I have often (said Theosophus) lamented by myself the Folly of these Pilgrim's , who maintain this Holy War; a War which is not, alas, to win (as of old it was) the Holy Land, or gain the Jerusalem of the Lord; but even about the Way thither. Than which, my Eubulus, can any thing be more ridiculous, more unhappily ridiculous? It would be a very strange madness, methinks, in any one, to denounce open Hostility against all such as do not go with him in the same Road.  
Yet so it was (said Eubulus) by these Pilgrim-Souldiers who professed to fight under his Banner who is Lord of all the mighty Hosts; we were seized in that place, only for not going the way as they did: In that we thought it safest to be conducted by Moses and Aaron, the Secular and Ecclesiastic Powers; (quietly following them through this World, this Wilderness of Sorrow and mishaps, into the Land of gread Plenty and Gods faithful Promises, which is on the other side:) and refused to join with any gainsaying Corah or rebellious Dathan, against the Priestly or the Kingly Office; so to be swallowed up into Hell with the Transgressor's. I thank my God hearty for whatever I sustained at their hands, and shall quite pass it over. Only the loss of a small Casket which just before we were taken I threw unwillingly into the River, doth now somewhat trouble me: for looking back, I think I saw a young man take it up.  
With that Theosophus delivers to him the little Box, which had caused such a Commotion in him, when on the shore of Thamus his melancholy stream, he lay a while ago so low dejected. This, as he designed it should, surprised Eubulus very strangely. Who with great signs of wonder taking it into his hands, and kissing it, desired to know by what Providence he came by it. In answer whereunto Theosophus gave him the Story, in as few words as he could, of what had passed since their departure, and of his meeting with the two Youths Parthenius and Theophilus.  
So rising from Supper, satisfied with the good things that Providence had prepared, and refreshed with such pious and profitable Relations; they ended it with this Paschal Hymn, Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us, therefore let us keep the Feast,— 1 Cor. c. 5. v. 7, etc. These three Friends, while they sat at Table, were much more delighted with the sweets of Temperance and innocent Mirth, than others are usually with all the abundance of a luxurious Feast; and when they risen, were not rendered unapt to praise him who had fed them.  
Eubulus would have put off what remained, to another opportunity, but that Theosophus was willing to hear it out, and the young Convert was very uneasy, till he knew what befell him, after they two were separated.  
Well, said Eubulus, I will proceed: We were, as I have told you (speaking to Theosophus) by the diligent working of that Calodulus, a most faithful Servant, you know, unto the Loyal Philanax (that but lately was so judicially and yet so barbarously butchered;) soon set at liberty. You may remember also that I told you by what Art of his, Theomachus was prevailed with to release Orthodoxus, who was in danger to tarry behind us. Thus we, who expected none other delivery but that of Death, were by the gracious appointment of Heaven, after a very short stay, delivered. Orthodoxus thereupon, I think, meant to leave the Island; Vranius, as a Shepherd, returned to the charge of his Flock; and I, lastly, went in search after this Youth who sits by me, purposing never to see your face, until I should have found out either him, or some other bewildered Pilgrim, and brought him hither to be set and directed by you into the Way of Truth. Whom I found indeed heedlessly roving in the Paths of Death: [At this the abashed Youth modestly casting down his looks upon the ground, with Tears and Blushes, softly said unto himself, I remember my Folly:] But in which I shall ever rejoice, I gained him over. Several times afore, dear Sir, he had refused; but now, contrary to his custom, he thanked me for my Charity, and with an honest freeness consented to follow me.  
We were not far from your Lodge, unto which the good old Eusebius had directed us, when the Tragedy first began. But you both know I am no Tragical Relator, and always love to pass such things by. Besides, this Youth can tell it better than I can.  
After that you, my dear Youth, was torn from me by those Lictors of Conscience we met with in the Fields, I for some while heard your pitiful cries and shrieks; but not any ways able to deliver you out of their bloody hands, I walked up and down in the Woods sorrowing, and quite despairing then ever to see you again. While I was thus sorrowfully walking alone, this same Prayer, which I can yet remember, struck mine ears.  
Most merciful, most holy 
A Prayer for the Church in time of Persecution and Tumults.  Father, how is thy Name profaned, thy Truth slighted, thy Temples polluted! how are we driven up and down like Sheep without a Shepherd! Though we are the Sheep of thy Hand, and part of thy Possession, yet are we scattered. Why do the People rage, and imagine thus a vain thing against the Lord, and against his Christ? Behold, O Lord, and have mercy: O let not the Gates of Hell prevail against thy Church. Thou hast promised that they shall not prevail. Be merciful, be merciful, for thy Names sake have mercy on us; lest we faint and die in this Wilderness, and enter not into the Land of thy Promises, into the Regions of Peace and Charity, there to be blessed to all eternity with the fruition of thy Glory. Do thou, O God, who art the Author of Peace, and the Lover of Concord, in knowledge of whom standeth our eternal Life, whose service is perfect freedom, the most absolute liberty; defend us thy humble Servants, thy poor Pilgrims, from all the Assaults either open or secret, from within us or without us, of our and thine Enemies, that we surely trusting in thy Defence, may not fear the Power of any Adversaries Spiritual or Temporal, through the Might of Jesus Christ the Prince of Peace, our Lord and our Protector. Amen.  
As I was considering whence it should come, a Lad running unto me courteously entreated me to step into the next Cave; for that (he said) several Pilgrims were hidden therein, to avoid the heat of the Persecution, who against the approaching Solemnities of Easter, desired to ease themselves by humble Confession.  
I followed him, and having entered the Cave, found there Eusebius, that pious aged Pilgrim I told you of, the humble Chamalus, the abstemious Sophron, the weeping Anselmus, the incomparably devout Maria, the chaste and matchless Parthenia, and the little lovely Child Erastus; all sitting together in a knot, entertaining each other in their turns with discourses of Piety and Religion. I heard them striving to celebrate that wonderful, that unknown Sorrow of their Lord, which was then by Holy Church commemorated, (it being the Passion-week;) but finding no Words were able to express it, they tried whether Tears could: and seemed (I think) to speak it best in the flittingness of their Eyes, and the burstingness of their Hearts. With beholding this goodly Spectacle I was highly pleased. And through fear lest I should disorder it, I stopped myself together with the Lad, whose name is Areteus, as soon as we were entered. But spying us, they came forthwith to the Caves' mouth, carried me in, and shown far greater respect toward me truly than I either deserve, or can with modesty relate. From thence, after that week of Sorrow was over, I brought them to the Temple, the place of our happy unexpected meeting.  
Then turning to the young Convert, & embracing him, he said, Now, my dearest Son, (for so I love still to call you) never were my grey hairs delighted with any thing more than with this your Return into the Bosom of our afflicted Church; afflicted and despised indeed, like her Lord and Master, crucified betwixt both the extremes of Superstition and Profaneness. Your Friend Theophilus hath ever since I told him of your Rambling, sought after you sorrowing, and now concludes that you are dead. How glad will he be when we shall surprise him with this News!  
Eubulus was here called away in haste by a Shepherd's Boy, whereupon taking his leave of them abruptly, he only said, that he hoped ere long to see his young Friend on his Pilgrimage. Both could discern much sorrow in his looks, and would very fain have stopped him to know the cause thereof; but he being gone, were very much (especially the Youth) troubled at his sudden departure.   

CHAP. XII.  
Timotheus relates his Travels unto the Burning Vale of Tophet.  
ON the morrow the good old man and his Guest walking forth into the Fields to delight themselves with the pleasant resurrection of the Spring, very melancholy that Eubulus had the night afore so left them, they discoursed together, remembering his parting words concerning this intended Pilgrimage to seek out the Site of Paradise.  
I purposed yesterday, said the good man, forthwith to set you out on your Journey with Eubulus, had he not been called away from us; but now it has so fell out, I would have you tarry with me a while longer: and that I may be the better able to direct you in the Pilgrimage which you design, I must beg, my Friend, since we are in the open air, and have leisure, to hear from you the History of your Life and your Travels, and how you came to be left in that miserable condition wherein I first found you, upon which Eubulus but slightly touched.  
Reverend Father, (answered the Guest) I will, as well as I am able, relate unto you what you desire; though I am not now the same man I was, and can therefore only give you a troublesome relation, (which you will not like) of a third person; having put off and disowned quite my former self, received at your hands a second Life, and therewith learned almost to forget my past one. But thus it was.  
I was born on that happy day wherein all Hearts were glad to see the great Basilius ascend his Father's Throne; and was soon after solemnly initiated, by Proxies, into the Christian Faith. Ever since I have worn the Badge thereof, and am called TIMOTHEUS; for at the sacred Font I received that Name: there the holy man took me into his arms and blessed me. During my Infancy it was very difficult to judge which way my natural Bent did incline me. Yet there were some, who (perhaps to flatter my Parents) would often praise my childish looks and gestures, and seem to read my future Destiny in the Cradle. As soon as ever I could prattle and talk, my Mother did her endeavour to infuse into me the Principles of Religion, and by winning Artifices to betray me to my Duty. And being afterwards continually under the inspection of a Father and a Tutor, I behaved myself so as not to miss of their Applause; nor could my Nature (being so restrained) in all this while break out: till at last I was sent to an Uncle, who inhabits the further part of this Island, to avoid the Infection of the Town which increased daily. Who received me with great expressions of Joy, taking truly, whilst I tarried with him, no less care of me than of his own Son. At his House I became acquainted with an excellent person, one Theophilus, whom I remember that last night both you and Eubulus spoke concerning; a Youth indeed of such noble Qualities and heroic Virtues, which made him attract the hearts of all who ever beheld him. I for my part was ravished with the native sweetness of his Temper, and found no delight except in his company; whom alone I made my Friend and Partner of my Breast. But alas! after some few months, I received the fatal Message of my Mother's death, and of my Fathers taking to the Wars.  
It was a good while before I could recover of that Grief, with which I was seized by so unwelcome News. But I was no sooner come to myself, when out of a mad humoursome Frolic, I resolved to forsake my dearest Friends, and amongst them the good Theophilus also, who hath ever since, it seems, been seeking me. And to this end I persuaded myself, that I was now free from all Encumbrances of filial Obligations, and at liberty to rove whither my Fancy should lead me.  
Thereupon leaving my Uncle's house, I saw 
* 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, etc. D. Barnab. Epist. p. 248. Voss.  two Ways; the one was a small unbeaten Trac, overgrown with Briars and Bushes, trodden only by a few poor despicable Pilgrims: the other was a large spacious Road, paved under feet with the richest Marble, impaled with Towns and Cities on each side, and  adorned with many curious and magnificent Structures. Which as soon as I perceived to be crowded with such vast multitudes of people, expressing Mirth and Jollity in their face and gesture, I could not be long detained from mixing myself among them, to find if there was any thing worthy to delight so numerous and confused an Oglio of all Languages and Nations.  
But as I was joining myself unto this pleasant Crew, there came up to me a venerable aged man, who pulling me by the sleeve called me aside. Honest Friend (says he) I am sorry to find you in this place, and with such Company. You mistake these men very much, if you guess at them by their looks: they are in truth the most foolish and unhappy Creatures in the World. Is it any pleasure, think you, to die with Laughter, or to run skipping into the Flames of TOPHET? Do you count those men the only wise whose Frenzy makes them merry: or those happy alone who run hoodwinked upon Misery? Having spoke these few words with more than ordinary vehemence, he was interrupted by them; for they had now perceived him discoursing with me, and knew presently what was therein his design. Wherefore some of them plucked him by the Beard, others fling Dirt at him, some also spitting in his face, called him Old Dotard, whilst even Boys too taunted and reviled him, and the most moderate of any bade him departed.  
Thus being rid of my cumbersome Monitor, I accepted of their company, and freely assented to march along with them, and conform myself to their Example in every thing. I first asked several of those who stood nearest me, to what place they were travelling so fast? Some said to this place, and some to another; but the more Ingenuous told me they knew not whither. Although I was not much satisfied with such Answers, yet was I resolved to follow so jovial a Gang, if it were even to the Devil.  
Then justling presently into the Throng, I was in an instant carried on several miles, before I knew myself to be moved one step forwards; till we came to a stately Palace very commodiously placed upon this Road, to entertain such unhappy misled Travellers as pass continually by. I was glad to rest myself anywhere, and therefore without much ado yielded to take Repast at this Royal Inn, into which I was easily introduced among the rest. Where to see the flocking of Courtiers about a Stranger, made me well-nigh run beside my Wits. Some accosted me with many ceremonious Salutations, interfering pretty fashionable Oaths and modish Curses with their words: Others demanded what News from the Camp, and what both Armies intended to do that Summer; and one of a more comical humour than any of the rest, very gravely delivering himself in Redouts, Mantelets, Courtines, Palisades, and a thousand other as lofty Bantrums, would needs read to me a Lecture of the Art of War: Another sort would seem to pry deepest in all the Machivellian Artifices, and Muscovitish Frauds of crafty Statesmen; delighting to discourse of the Intrigues of foreign Courts. But the most pleasant of all were in my mind a parcel of Amorous Fools, as void of Sense as they were of Virtue. Had you but heard their Vows, their Protestations, their Die for Chloe a gaudy painted Quean, a foul rotten prostituted Strumpet; you would wonder that ever men could arrive to such a degree of Madness. Their immodest Pranks and filthy Pleasures, their lascivious Glances, their Dresses, their Motions, Jellies, passionate and languishing Speeches, had so much of the Devil in them, and so much of foolish Sin, and frantic Vice, that you I believe would have taken it for the very Bedlam of Hell. There sat an old decrepit dothing Lover, writhen-faced and bald-pated, toothless and blear-eyed, wantonly flickering over a young Girl: and there an old deformed Crone that could neither see nor hear, set off with her Pencil and Alembick-waters, caterwauling after a lusty Youth. You might have seen many of these philtered and bewitched even to a piece of Pasteboard, a painted Fiend, a bedaubed Picture. And if you observed too the effects thereof, you might have seen Paleness in this man's face, and Flushings in the others: one was burnt, and another freezed; was either scorched with Flames, or dissolved into Tears; had either his Blood clodded with cold Damps and Affrightments, or his Heart tortured with excessive Burn. These discoursed to me of their Amours, their Assignations, how many Hearts they had won, and suchlike: enquired of me with what Ladies I had familiarity; how I liked Lesbia's Chin, and how the Eyes of Glycerium pleased me: whether Clelia's straight Limbs, or Chione's curiously curled Hair, did most become them: and whether the captivating Speech of Pamphila, or the phained Languish and pretty Coyness of Philaenis were most worthy.  
Whilst we were thus foolishly talking, up there came to us a hussing Swaggerer, that could speak nothing but Rodomontades and Gasconades, whose bombast Phrases and lofty far-fetched Metaphors made us indeed excellent sport. One that sat by jogged me, saying, This is the Court-Buffoon; he discourses never but in the Style of Romances, in the same Style he courts his Mistress, and their high strains he picks out to compliment a Stranger with: he will now run you over his Adventures surpassing all the stories of Knight-Errantry that ever you have read, and in Military Terms describe you the winning of a sorry weak Lady. After him a light finical Monsieur came to welcome me, whose ridiculous and freakish humour was not more to be laughed at than pitied; though pitied but by few, and laughed at by all the men of Sense; And many others also whom I have forgotten, not worthy to be remembered.  
All this while there sat a Fellow very fullenly eyeing us, which made me inquire who he was, and wherefore he separated himself: One whispered me in the ear, that we reverenced him not enough, being too familiar in the presence of his new Lordship. Telling me he had given no less than two hundred Crowns unto an Herald, to derive his Pedigree from such a 
* Malo pater tibi sit Thersites, dummodo tu sis Aeacidae similis— Juven.  Lord or Marquis, whose Family had lain defunct as many years: and that there was such ado to prove him descended from that Lords youngest Son, reported to have died during his Minority; that to bring this about, the old fusty Registers and wormeaten Writings are sifted, and Names altered or forged: when in truth this vainglorious Coxcomb is but just risen from the Dunghill, having for his true Father a beggarly canting Rogue, who for Burglary, Theft, and Murder, was hanged upon a Gibbet: and he himself raised to that pitch by minting false and counterfeit Money, robbing on the Highway, Lifting, Gaming, Sharking upon raw Country-Gentlemen. One of his Friends (he told me) had stolen the very Ensigns of Magistracy, because tipped with Ore, and that he balked not after this to cast his filching eye upon the Diadem and Regal Ornaments: and his Brother also attainted for the most prodigious Sacrilege that ever was heard of, who could pretend Piety and a Sacrifice to the God of Heaven, even to plunder his Sanctuary, and to take thence the Golden Chalice and Sacred Utensils, in which just afore he had received the most adorable Symbols of Life and Salvation. He shown me others by him who had made themselves by the more lawful Thieveries of their Trades, by Cheats and Over-witting: and others advanced by mere Fortune, or their extraordinary Demerit.  
I was now ready to by't my fingers for hunger, when there came up with the Dinner a long train of Waiters and Servitors, as if whole Forests and Rivers were to be massacred for, and Hecatombs of Lives were not enough to satiate the Luxury of one Family. My stomach was not very mannerly, for I could scarce forbear falling to: But before the Dishes were marshaled, the Guests seated, and the Victuals carved, I thought I should even starve; not liking at all to be thus tantalised.  
With your leave, Father, I will pass over their mysterious Arts of eating, their ways of provoking a dull Appetite, and the gentile Intricacies of Cookery here used; which even the most infamous Apitius, the most beastly Voluptuary might blush to own. But yet their Guts (I can sadly remember) knew not shame: the keenest Satyrs were not able to pierce them. For highly honourable they esteemed it thus to pamper their Flesh: in this sense to make Gods of their Bellies, sacrificing unto them the Preys of both Sea and Land.  
I am ashamed to tell how destructive this voluptuous Entertainment proved not to them alone, but even to ourselves, and what a change it wrought upon this wretched Carcase of mine. Sloth, Heaviness, uneasiness of Mind, straitwith seized me. The Blood became corrupted, the Humours disordered, the Eyes dim; my whole Body distempered, my Understanding clogged with indigested loads of Meat, and clouded with unwholesome Fumes; my Brains dulled, my Spirits oppressed. So that hereby I was rendered wholly unapt for any Exercise of Devotion, any Duty of Religion: I was made unable to stir one step to seek out Paradise, or to turn out of this Road into which I had entered.  
Now being detained thus fast by the bewitchings of Intemperance, I was carried to see a Play. And truly Mr. Bays the Poet bestirred himself; for methoughts he dressed up Vice so awkwardly, that we could not choose but laugh, and yet liked it nevertheless. The Follies and the Indiscretions, and the Humours of a ridiculous or a puny Sinner, were laughed at, whilst a more gentile and daring Bravo in Sin, come off with credit, was made the Hero of his Play. Such Arts had he of wooing the Desires, debauching the Phantasy, as if the Poet's Trade was to be Pander unto the Lusts of every Spectator. Nor could the Poet yet with all his Cunning, afford us Fuel enough for our Vice, without the help of such gaudy Prostitutes as flocked hither.  
Theosophus here interrupts him, saying, It is observed by an 
* Tertull. de Spectac. Sacrarium Veneris, c. 6  ancient Guide, that when Pompey the Great built his Theatre, fearing lest the lewdness and impiety of the Shows, the horrible liscentiousness of the Scenes, might in aftertimes cause it to be pulled down and utterly demolished; he under a pretext of Religion dedicated it unto the Goddess Venus, and would have it called by the name of her Temple; and so I think it ever since has remained. The Devil that seized a Christian at these Sights, being demanded by the Exorcist wherefore he durst do this, answered, it was his own Ground, and he did nothing but what was right. Whether his Plea be now just the same as it was then, I cannot tell; but the History I am afraid is too daily verified in the greatest number that frequent that place. It may be the effeminate Gallants of our Age, who by the burn of Lust love to antedate their Hell, scarce count this a Punishment, and are ready almost to think the Devil good company that can be where such Mirth is. Indeed the Primitive Institution of the Stage was to correct Vice: now into what a World are we come, when that which ought to correct, is made to cherish Vice?  
Then Timotheus went on again: After this the Ladies had me to a Ball. When I know not by what chance, looking but up to Heaven, there fell a drop of Gall (I think it was) into mine eyes, which made them see clearer, and discern it to be the ghastly Reveiles of impure Satyrs and womanish Devils. But such Witchcraft was in their eyes, that by but looking on them I myself was transformed into one of them, and now took them for Angels. For here I first saw, and then admired, my Corinna.  
In such pleasures and disports as these, whilst I tarried here, I lavished away my time. Having gained so much familiarity in so short a space, I began now to be more inquisitive, and to ask admittance into the Presence-Chamber. What, says one, you would see the King, the Protector of the afflicted Pilgrims, and Defender of their Faith: You are much mistaken; that doting superstitious Prince is not to be found amidst these Revellings and Pleasures, amidst the Joys and lose Caresses of this courtly and happy life. Believe me, you nowhere find him upon this Road, which he hath left for yonder narrow scraggie one. We hope the Sanhedrim will ferret him about. A poor miserable Prince! his own Subjects rob him of his Crown, and plate a Crown of Thorns upon his Head.  
One day as we were in the midst of our wild Jollity, we heard a noise and hurry in the Street. Every one went to see what was the matter; so that I was left alone. I was not long so; for no sooner were they gone, but in steps that same venerable person, who would have hindered my first ingress into this Road. Who coming to me before I was ware, thus spoke to me with Tears: What have I caught you here, young man? At this I was so abashed as not to know what to answer. Well, (continued he) are you now convinced of that I told you? What Rest or Pleasure do you think to find in this place, which it seems you have chosen out for your Quarters? Alas, if you do, you are quite deceived: much easier are they to be found in humble Cottages and Cells, in the poor Retreats of contented Pilgrims. For all these, whom perhaps you admire and envy for their Happiness, are indeed the most miserable Wretches that you can fancy to yourself. What, these men miserable (said I) who are thus attended and waited upon, who feast splendidly, and see no days of sorrow or melancholy? No, no, you shall not delude me out of my Senses. Tell me not any more of Misery in this Jovial and Sportsome Company, in such Feast as these, and the Pomps and honourable Retinue of this Great Man, the Riches of another, and the illustrious Name of a third. It may be you saw not how that Lord was adored, who sat by me. Ah, poor deceived Youth! (he replied) already you have lost your sight. The Love and the Dust of this World-hath blinded you: embossed Titles, glorious Vanities, have put out your eyes. Can there in hellish Beauty appear such Loveliness, or can the bitterness of Aloes taste luscious to your Palate? Is it so desirable a bliss to be preyed upon by Parasites, to be killed with the same breath they flatter you? They hold great Ranks, I confess in the World, and boast much their Pedigree; but who knows whether that Page who was caught so often smiling upon his Lady, or another trusted Servant, or that Gentleman-Usher who used to steal into her Chamber, or that Physician whose frequent Visits were so welcome, be not the Father of the Child? Or else perhaps the Mother (and so it has been known) prostituted her Body to a Groom of the Stable, or let a Coachman who was privy to all her wanton Rambles, himself satisfy her Lust? You admire the Riches and the Happiness of yonder man, his Gold, his Silver, Jewels, Tapestry, and magnificent abundance of every thing. Why, what of all this? Is he any thing the happier for these precious Superfluities? Look you but upon them, and you have then quite as much of them as he; are altogether as rich and happy as the Possessor himself. Do the bags of Money hoarded in your Coffers do you any more good than if they were carried back to the Mines again, or drowned in the bottom of the Sea? Doth the Owner enjoy them any more than any other; nay, than the poor Beggar at the door begging an Alms? And wherefore have Nobles so many stately Palaces? If they inhabit them not, they may with as good (nay better) reason be said to be the Palaces of Mice, or the rich Mansions of Spiders and despised Vermin. Can you envy any man's Burden, wish for this man's Riches and thats Power, for his Villas and Lands, and the others Honours? Afar off they appear Admirable and Great; but nearer at hand nothing at all, nothing but Vanity and Vexation, but a Snare and Deceit, painted Deformity and most loathed Ugliness. Pray, Son, be not angry with me for being so free with you; for I know not how to flatter you with Lies; and by this Habit which I wear, I am obliged to tell you the Truth. Is the Dropsy a pain to the Body, and Avarice a pleasure to the Soul; the Tympany a Disease in one, and Pride an Ornament, a gentile Quality in the other? Doth no man care for a Lethargy, and every one seek Security? If the Fits of an Epilepsy can be so frightful, how much more the Lapses of an Apostatising Sinner? Who can endure the Burn of a Calenture, and is Lust so pleasant? How much nobler, I pray, is Sloth than the Scurvy; and what is your Froliking but the Megrim of a dizzy Brain? Whosoever sure can find satisfaction in any of these, may with as good reason flatter all the Diseases of humane Bodies, may court the Gibbet and the Rack, and take Torments for most pleasing Anodynes. Let me but tell you what I heard from a Traveller in this very same Road; and as coming from such an one I hope it will pierce deeper into your breast. He is as daring and presumptuous a Sinner, I believe, as ever traveled herein, a most profligate Wretch that has tried all the ways of lewd Delight, and left nothing of Wickedness unessayed. Yet with great seriousness he once confessed, that in no act of Sin he ever took such pleasure, as was able to counterpoise the sorrow he afterwards felt: that he never committed what is sinful, but that as soon almost he wished it never committed: nor ever trod one step further, but that he repent he had gone so far. He told me also what ghastly frighting thoughts he had when he was alone; what uneasiness he had within him, and what trouble and perplexity he hath all along met with in his Travels. But (which is almost past belief) he is so bewitched, that still he foolishly continues to run on in this lamentable course: he still as wilfully as ever persists in his Wickedness, and cannot be persuaded so much as to step one step backwards. Pray, consider what I say, before it be too late; for all this but a short melancholy Fit made him acknowledge unto me. Depart therefore hence; hereafter possibly you may tell me the same as he. By those past good Deeds which else will be forgotten, by that Duty which you own unto your Parents, by that Love which once you did (or at least professed to) bear unto Theophilus, yea by that Love you bear unto yourself; I entreat and adjure you to return with me, to return back into the Path of Life and everlasting Rewards: You are else, to all Eternity, undone.  
I had not time to resolve what to do, before my Company came back; whom the old man seeing, slipped from me without being discovered. We have seen (said they) a slight Quarrel raised about the Love of Phillis. Nothing of Hurt is done: there is only the Soul of Damocles by an unlucky blow sent in the shape of a Raven to play in the Flames of Hinnom. And by such mad Laughter as this, were the words of my dear Monitor driven out. In these Jovial Merriments for several days we continued.  
In which space I became acquainted with the voluptuous Hedonius, the whoring Pamphilus, the impudent Cynoeus, the plotting Panurgus, the ambitious Philodoxus, the two Libertines Hippomanes and Atheus, the laughing Buffoon Gelasinus, and the trifling Adolesches, Philecous' the Busybody, Pseudocheus the great Liar, and his Brother the Spreader of false News Polymythus, the Master of Compliments Eutrapelus, the lascivious Museus amongst the Rhymers, Biberius among the Drinkers, Huguccio and Pamphagus among the Feeders, the inconstant Varius, the slothful Philypnus, and several others that wore the Devils Mark. 'twould be troublesome and tedious unto you, hard for me (having now forgot many of them) to  their Persons, describe their several Humours, and relate all the Passages, not more vicious and branded, than ridiculous and odd, which happened during my Abode with them.  
Wherefore to omit all that, I being at last quite tired with this kind of life, resolved one way or another to break out of this stately Prison. (For that which at first I took for a Palace, I found to be a Gaol.) So having one day gained a fit opportunity, I fairly left them But I still continued on apace in my Journey, which now grew more delicious; whole Stages of it being high stately Piazza's and broad Streets. At length I came to a turning, which declined toward the left. For I must tell you, that there is above a thousand By-paths, which though different, or even directly opposite to each other, do all alike lead unto the dismal Vale of TOPHET. This way was exceeding broad, and thronged by Passengers, (and those of no ordinary Quality) as much as the great one. The Streets were all Taverns and Stews, which made me leave the other common Road, to turn in here for better Accommodation. Whereof there is a Description between two and three thousand years old; which I need but to use, it being so exactly fitted thereto, by not only the Wisest of Men, and most understanding Observator of Humane Actions, but one who had strayed with me in this very Way, and had experience enough, no man I believe will deny, as having 
* 1 King. 11. 1, 2, 3.  out of his own and all the bordering Nations, no less than seven hundred Wives Princesses, and three hundred Concubines at his Will.  
It was, I remember very well, the Twilight in the Evening, as the Night began to be black and dark, when I roved up and down therein; and behold, there met me a woman (Olympia she calls herself) with the Attire of an Harlot, and subtle of Heart. She caught me and kissed me, and with an impudent face talked unto me. Come, said she, let us take our fill of Love until the Morning, let us solace ourselves with Loves. With much fair Speech she caused me to yield, with the flattering of her Lips she forced me. She caught me again and kissed me: but mine heart already declined to her ways, I went astray in her Paths, I (poor Wretch) followed her straightway, as an Ox goeth to the slaughter, and as a Fool to the correction of the Stocks: as an Ox that thinks he is a going to the Pasture, willingly goeth to his own Destruction; and as a Bird hasteth to the Snare, not knowing that she is in danger; so I saw the Bait, and catched after it, but guessed not that it was for my Life. Not but that her House I knew well enough to be the way unto Hell, and the going down to the Chambers of Death, though with her Eyes I was so strangely fascinated, as not to consider this; but rather to esteem these outer Courts of the Eternal Prison my Heaven and my Paradise. Here also I lighted upon Corinna and Glycerium, Rhodope and Pamphila, Philumena and Celia; and taken with their Beauty, went in unto them; not knowing (or not thinking) that the Dead were there, and that their Guests were in the depths of Hell. For their Lips dropped as the Honeycomb, their Speech was smother than Oil; but their End proved bitter as Wormwood, sharp as a two-edged Sword. Their Feet every one could spy went downward, and their Steps took hold on Everlasting Death: They all hunted for the precious Life. Hence a Wound and Dishonour I got: I gave mine Honour unto others, and my Years unto the Cruel: Strangers parted my Wealth, and my Labours were in the house of a Stranger; and I mourned at last when my Flesh and my Body was consumed. This is the true sad Account that I can give you of Solomon's simple one, and his young man that is void of Understanding. Many were my Adventures in this place, but so bestial, and so foolish, that I think they will be much better passed by than related.  
I was surprised to meet with here those very same men that I had left behind me at the Palace; who after they had chid me for so leaving them, told me however they were very glad to find me where they did. And having now at last by my abode here, got Vice and Impudence enough, I was willing to return with them to the Prince's Court; but was prevented by seeing just before me a very great City: to which I made haste. Whereinto being entered, I met with so many Cheats, that I was afraid to tarry long. The Shops were filled with sophisticated Wares, Lying and Deceit maintained the general Burse; and unto these every one had served his Apprenticeship. Injustice and Falsehood was in every place, and in every corner this most excellent Aphorism, viz WHATSOEVER TE WOULD THAT MEN SHOULD DO TO YOU, DO YOU EVEN SO TO THEM, was inverted.  
Departing hence, I went on a good way, without meeting any thing that I remember considerable; till at last, casting mine eyes about, I chanced to spy a mad man flinging handfuls of Gold up into the air. This he did, and many other absurd fantastic Pranks, as ridiculous and expensive, to gain the Applause of the Bystanders. The Shouts and merry Echoes of the busy Applauders, and their Peals of loud Laughter had for a pretty while rung in his ears. He had now emptied since I came several large Coffers in a trice; and to complete his brave Extravagancy, he takes out of a small iron Chest what was left of his Patrimony, a bundle of Deeds. Which instead of Love-letters and Billets-doulx, he sends unto his Mistress Celia. So not I alone, but every one also of those who were nearest to him, deserts him forlorn and hopeless.  
When I saw an old Beggar, Chrysocancrio by name, a poor wretched wanting Caitive, bereft of all the Necessaries of Life, and almost famished with pinching Hunger and Cold; scraping together those pieces of Money out of the Mire. And having therewith filled an huge Trunk, he stood purdieu, like the Hesperian Dragon, to keep the Fleecy Gold. He appeared to watch very fearfully, lest his fingers should steal any thing thence, against his will, to buy him a piece of Bread. Though I laughed at the other, this I could not choose but pity, and would fain have helped; had I not been called away to see one more raving mad than either of these.  
His Looks were fierce and kill, his Hair bristled, his Eyes sparkled, his Mouth foamed, his Head joggled, his Voice was shrill and piercing, his Brow frowning, and his Hands clutched. One while he would stamp and rend his Clothes, then beat his Breast, and tear his Hair; most dreadfully too he glared on me. This was the miserable raging Thumicus; followed he was by his Wife Xantippe the Scold.  
By this time my old Monitor had again overtaken me; whose Voice ran before, as fast as he could send it, to call me back, and was ingeminated with bitter cries. The face of Thumicus began to burn and glow more terribly and direly than it had before, when my Monitor caught hold on me, and said, You shall presently see all the Hags in Hell light their Torches at that Wretch's face. But I could not now bear the company or the words of so reverend a man, and therefore thrust him from me; who departed holding up his hands and praying, I guess, for my Conversion. But, according as he said, the mad Bedlamwretch was instantly all in a flame, as if indeed he was preparing to be the Fuel of Hell, and all the Vices and the Passions were lighted at his hellish fiery Countenance. They all blazed out together, and could not any of them be now suppressed. Whereby he was fitted for all acts of Villainy, and even whatsoever he was most averse to. The most ran away to avoid him, but those who were left he fell upon, and one amongst the rest he bruised and beat.  
From whom I had scarce got free, before I was encountered by somewhat like a Sceleton just raised from the Grave; a pale, livid, lean, meagre-faced Gentleman; whom a Devil, unespied by him (O Hellish Martyrdom!) lashed with a Whip of breaded Snakes. His Speech was hoarse, his Chaps fallen, his Eyes sunk into his Head, with an unwelcoming cast whereof he welcomed me. And too much pleasantness, God knows, at that time appeared in my looks, to make this poor tormented Wretch scowl so gastfully.  
You may perhaps have heard of one so ridiculously revengeful, as neither to eat nor to drink, if he whom he envies but lives on better; this was that very person: He, like the Cantharideses, delighted to feast on others Sores, and was never merry but at others Sadnesses: He had much rather see himself in Misery, than his Neighbour in Prosperity; and to go to Tophet alone, than with company to the Paradise of the Blessed. So was he his own Plague, his own cruel Tormentor, and the greatest Foe unto himself. The sight of him told me Carrion could not be far off.  
And so I guessed right. For running away from him, as being afraid of so scraggie and mischievous a Fellow, I fell upon a lubberly unthinking Lurdan hard by, stretched out (just as I have seen him expressed by the Painter's fancy in his Poetic Regions of Crapulia, or the much-famed Isle of Lazy) under a Tree, from whose laden boughs dropped fair Fruit into his mouth; whilst seven beautiful damsels were ready with Bowls of spiced Wines to quench his costly Thirst. I cannot tell whether I was infected by him I last met, or whether it was from my natural aversion to Sloth (the ugliest in my mind of all the deadly sins) that could not forbear repining at his Happiness: (For Happiness, alas, I thought it.) But the Apples which looked so fresh, I soon saw to be the Apples of Sodom, Rottenness and Ashes; the Grapes, such as discovered our Father Noah's nakedness; and the Wine whereof he drank, the Wine of Iniquity, and of eternal Vengeance. Now the damsels which ministered the same unto him, delighted to prick him with Thorns, and so make him shrug; and then, pulling off their Vizors, with their ghastly looks forced him to leap down into a fathomless Deep. After which he was never seen more. Whereat, sore affrightened, I left, with great horror, this sad Spectacle of Luxury and Sloth, and of the hurtful Dalliance of a wanton Fortune that is attended on by all the deadly sins, those seven flattering Furies in whorish disguise.  
But this stopped me not in my Journey, but I rather went on the faster for it. For having all sorts of Company to divert myself in, such an Accident as this could not long trouble me. On this side of me passed the Rash and Foolhardy, and would fain seem valiant; but that every one judged him fit to rave in an Hospital of mad men, than in any other place: his Brain was hot. On the other side of me passed one whose Blood was thick and muddy, and his Brain frozen; and he would seem, forsooth, to be wary; but his Mind was really perplexed with Fears and Disquiets, whence he would startle if a Mouse did but stir, or a Fly buzz in his ear; be frightened out of his little wits at Armies under ground: He was laughed at by every one, and called Poltroon and Dastard. In another File marched the fond Cockering Mothers, and the cruel Stepdames; they with Kindness, these with Unkindness, both alike destroying their Children: Then the Busybodies and the Idle both together; for both had equally nothing to do: There Sir Formal, and here Squire Freak, waited on by Petulance and Levity: A nice dapper Fellow on that side; a dirty Slouch on this, who took such a Pet at the other, that, rather than appear like him, he studied how he might be offensive unto every one, and was well enough pleased to be thought an Enemy to all Decency and honest Comeliness; one of a sullen Gravity, and a rugged Behaviour; spruce Ruffillus, and slovenly Gorgonius: The Makebates, and the Flatterers: The Drunkards staggering, those who had lost their limbs in the Devil's service halting, and not a few who were carried on Couches and Down-beds: Some (like Dogs) grinned, and others barked; some did fawn, and others by't: The Fingers of them were crooked. and the Tongues of these were forked: Some had pointed prying Eyes, and others scowling one's: Some had them misted with Ignorance, and others bloudshot with Revenge.  
After I had thus gone on a good way, I fell into the company of some that appeared to be utter Enemies to the Devil's Kingdom, and therefore I judged myself safe, and quite out of my way to him. For these were outwardly so fierce and zealous Opposers of him, as to fight against him (which you will think strange) in several Set-Battels with Powder and Shot. Their manner was to bring back those who (they said) were going to him, with Sword or Fire: they would pistol or faggot you, if you went not along with them; and cried out, all were damned and in the way to Tophet, that followed them not. So now having their Encouragement, and Attestation to the truth thereof, I concluded, it is impossible for me not to be saved: I shall be happy in both Worlds. Then poor deluded I traveled down apace with them, ran merrily and blindly on; till at last we met with their Heads, Merozius, Diotrephes, Santomero, Don Hugo Pedro, and Mariana. But having long before well enough known them by their names, I began to think myself, for all this, never the farther from the Devil. But their beloved Principle, that Dominion is founded in Grace, and that we were the sole Proprietors of the Earth, kept me from starting back. While I was with them, they used to discourse very irreverently of the sacred Person of Basilius, and to rail much against the Heresy (as they called it) of Cyprian. They talked secretly of many mysterious Intrigues and treacherous Designs against the Life of our pious Prince; and not only so, but I could hear them closely project the Ruin and Fall of all Principalities under Heaven. I found now that their Plottings were not against one peculiar place or Monarch, but against Government and Monarchy itself, and the whole Managery of the Universe. In such symbolical them as these, they threatened within the period of a few years, to lay the Northern Lion Couchant, to transplant the Fleur-de-luces' into another Soil, to pinion the Wings of the Western Eagle, to pull down the Triumphant Cross, and make the Crescent Moon dwindle into Stars.  
Thus wise did they menace Destruction unto every Land, and boasted their Readiness and their Power to lay all Kingdoms into Rubbish and Ashes, and to reduce the whole World into Confusion, Anarchy, and Chaos; as there approached us Martial men terribly accoutred: who lived upon Blood and Booty, and enquired of us (not after the best Cause, but) the best Pay. But as they rushed into the Battle, promising themselves great Honour and great Plunder, some of them were cut off, and the others were miserably mangled.  
I cannot omit to tell you of some who were Spectators of this unhappy Tragedy. They reserved their Plaudit for the last Act, siding the mean while with both Parties, sure to neither; christening this their Neutrality, Moderation; their Temporising, Religion. The most cunning of whom spoke always in dubious Terms, leaving themselves a liberty to expound the same, as the Victory should decide, and Times serve.  
At this Theosophus bad him stay; so they both perceived afar off a very hot Scuffle betwixt two Caravans of Pilgrims; one of them, as near as they could guests, bearing for their Colours the Lion of Judah rampant, and the other the mild Lamb of God. These last, they could see, made but small Resistance, and being not many, were soon routed by the first, who were far more numerous. Yonder (said the good man) I fear there is our Orthodoxus and Eubulus, with their Pilgrims. At which they both for some while most sadly wept. But Theosophus desirous to hear out the Narrative of his Friend, bade him go on, saying he could not be wearied at the length thereof, or grow unattentive to what he so sweetly related.  
Which accordingly Timotheus did. After so many Scenes of Madness (said he) were passed, I admired to see a man that could look two ways at once, both behind and afore; whose Discourse and Admonition shown the way to Paradise: whose Life, to the quite contrary place. Sitting in the Chair of Moses and the Prophets, there he had learned to speak fluently the Language of Canaan, the pious Eloquence, the divine Rhetoric of the Blessed; while in his more retired Privacies he never but used that of Babylon, of Pride, Impiety, and Confusion; made all his Actions suit with the Idioms of the Beast and of Hell, the Speech of the Accursed. Thus going one way, he still pointed another; and advised every body to go in that, whilst he shown them this.  
With him there went a pack of griping hollow-hearted Saints, provided with double Tongues and most heavenly Visages. These I took for men of another World at first, (though not long) and verily believed again that I was travelling not up, but down to Paradise; that we were all certainly trooping thither. Do you see, than said one, yonder demure Precisians, casting up their sanctified looks to Heaven? They that without appear as mortified and holy as the Primitive Pilgrims, have within them the Impurities of a Brothel-house, and the Covetousness of Usurers; come, let us go teaz and make sport at them. Instead of being daunted, I was mightily pleased, to discover what they were; and began to be bold and confident, not afraid, that I was in the wrong way. Seeing them wear the Image and the Livery of God, every one hated them, and laughed at them, (just as we should at Asses in Lions, or Wolves in Sheep skins; or as we should at Jackpuddings in the Garb of Senators.) We all detested their painted Sanctity, thought them Devils transformed into Angels of Light; but we detested them not as Devils, but as disguised, as them who were ashamed of bare-faced Vice.  
A little farther several I saw climbing up a steep Precipice, on the top whereof was the Idol of Honour. So ungrateful were these, as to throw down whom they had made the means of their Rising; but on a sudden, by a cross Wind, they were also tumbled headlong down. A few were singular, and would go in those Paths which none ever before had trodden: Fawning Murderers there were likewlse that hung upon, and morose Timon's, Manhaters, that separated from us: Many a Narcissus enamoured with himself, and many a biting Mome vomiting up nothing but Gall and Bitterness. We had also with us a poor Fellow who freely consented to go to HELL, if so be any of us would but bear his Charges upon the Road: Another brave Fool I knew, who would venture his Estate and his Soul, at the Cast of a die. Before us trotted very scurvily one of the Devils Packhorses, an old Fellow who had broke his back with carrying a great heavy Chest of Money, and yet notwithstanding this, would not rest till he came to his Journeys end. He was followed, at least, by half a dozen Asses braying at him. O my good Father, you have given me too hard a Task; I think I shall never get through this Scene of Follies. There was one whom I extremely laughed at, that betwixt Hopes and Fears was, with Lazarillo de Tormes, tossed in a Blanket. One I saw build, and then pull down what he had built, and then build again, and so on; never pleased, but striving to outvie even Time in Mutability, outdo the Inconstancy and Changeableness of whatsoever is most inconstant and most changeable. I should have wondered more at him, but that I had seen him afore prettily represented in a Draught of Zeuxis, by a naked man snipping into shreds a piece of Cloth; afraid therewith to apparel himself, because he knows not the Fashion. Another whose Face was clouded with Sorrow, I and my Comrades did all we could to comfort; but for this giving us a very unfriendly look, he turned away. His muttering and odd Demeanour taught us that he was fallen out with the Times, was an uncontented Admirer of the past, and Hater of the present; not because bad, but present. His bloated Tongue knew not how to speak well of any body, was ever inur'd to Invectives and sinister passionate Reflections: all those that were either great or good, (or but seemed so) he was not able to abide: he cursed both his and their Fortunes: Happy he could not be as he wished, and therefore he would (in Spite) be Miserable. Next went the Malicious, destroying and pillaging one another. And after these several others.  
Now all these could show me each others Mistake; the Covetous Father preached excellently against Prodigality and Laxury; the Prodigal Son against Covetousness; the Sot ran out into an Harangue against the Stews; and those who frequented them, had as much to say against his Mopish Drunkenness. Nor was there any Vice, but which was thought blame-worthy by the Vicious themselves. But as for Virtue, (my good Father) that was so amiable, as even against our Wills, we had a love for it: nay, some, as I have told you, counterfeited it; and none I ever knew so far gone, but had with reluctancy a certain reverence for virtuous persons. So true is it, that Virtue desires but to appeal to the Bar of her Accusers, and to be judged by her greatest Enemies; whilst Vice shuns the Verdict of her chiefest Adorers. Every one knew the other was in the wrong, though he himself was not in the right; could refute the gross Follies of the rest, though he the while was as grossly fooled as any.  
I observed many more whom I cannot now call to mind; but none I observed so much (and that too all the way I came) as a cunning Mimic, that could shape himself into all forms, and vary as often as his Company: could comply with every man's humour, accommodate himself unto every Time and Place. He would speak fair, yea words smother than Oil, unto this man; but unto another that was his Enemy, he would speak words of him piercing him through, sharper than a two-edged Sword: He could lie, cog, wheedle, cajole every Party, insinuate himself into every Breast: with these he could swear, and with them he could pray; here none was more profane, nor there more devout: none was a better Pot-companion, and none more a Trencher-Friend; swilling with some, and rioting with others: He could feast with the Luxurious, fast with the Religious: Was brisk or grave, merry or sad, according as he pleased: Knew how to tickle the Ambitious, to pimp for the Incontinent, to rally with the Jocose: Sometimes would act a Prince, othertimes a Beggar or a Clown; and at several times personate both a Devil and a Saint. Insomuch that being extraordinarily delighted with the variableness of his Humours, his wicked cunning and civil Address; I was always, if it were possible, in his company, thereby at length acquiring such a Familiarity, as upon the account of sin can be acquired. Now being equally of all, and equally scoffing all Religions, for our diversion he would needs one day carry us over into the Religious Quarters.  
By this time the day grew hot, and Theosophus perceiving that he was now about to enter on a fresh Discourse, told him he might leave off a little while, till they had refreshed their Senses, and recruited their Bodies: So they turned back into the Lodge. In their return homeward, there happened a pretty odd Accident, which was thus: Hearing a Cry, I will be the death of her, again and again repeated, they saw a Lady presently, who appeared very beautiful, ride by them upon a fair Palfrey, carrying before her a man bound hand and feet. Timotheus strait knew the man to be the effeminate Philogynus, whom Parthenius was gone to seek after. He therefore stepped to him, that he might unbind and set him free. But as soon as he was taken from the Lady and unbound, he was highly displeased, and bound himself again. It was in vain either for Timotheus or the old Father to dissuade him; for they found that he was deaf, and could not hear any thing they said: but had he been only so, the very sight of Timotheus would have been enough to work upon him; but he was also blind, and could not see the Beauty and the Amiableness of a young Convert. He was not indeed speechless, but they could hear him say nothing but sweet Sirenia, charming Sirenia. This had like to have cost the Lady her life, for the Fellow behind who made the Cry and ran after with a naked Sword threatening to kill her, but had missed of her, now returning back, saw her here. Timotheus knew him to be Pamphilus his old Acquaintance, and running to him stopped his hand from Murder. But after he was disarmed, and seemed to be very well reconciled to her, just as Theosophus and Timotheus were leaving them, he fell upon her again, calling her false Whore, tore off her Dress, and shook her so violently, that made her catch at her Hair as it was dropping from her, and was not able to save her borrowed Teeth from falling to the ground. So that the Spark Erotion, who here overtook her and came in to her Rescue, was startled to see his fair Lady Sirenia transformed into a foul taudry Quean.   

CHAP. XIII.  
The Religions: or, a continuation of the Travels of Timotheus.  
AFter they had a little refreshed themselves, and offered up (as was the laudable custom of Theosophus) their Noontide Orisons, the young Guest being solicited thereunto, thus proceeded in his Narration.  
I have told you by whom we were carried into the other Quarters to divert ourselves. Behold (said he) now, whether in Religion there be any thing more than mere Imposture and Blindness: Judge, I pray, but from this View, whether there can be any such place as an Aetherial Paradise to be desired and sought after, or as an Infernal Tophet to be feared and avoided. Though there are not lacking those who can give exact Maps of I know not what Subterraneous and Supracoelestial Worlds, can describe their Confines, Limbo's, and exterior Courts, and therein allot you forth and sell you Apartments at good rates: Shall we therefore be such fearful Fools as to be frighted at the silly created Phantasms of melancholy Heads, of dull insensible Ascetics, and the Tricks of the cheating Guides of Souls? Let them but agree about the Way thither, let them tell me where to find their unfound promised Land, their invisible unknown Country; I will then (but not otherwise) believe there may be such a place as the Holy Land above. Thus spoke the foolish blustering Atheist, and commanded us to look.  
I. First he shown us the Kingdoms of Darkness. In these dark Regions which the Dawn of the Sun of Righteousness and Light eternal, the Dayspring from on high, hath not as yet visited; we saw the blinded Souls bow down to Baalim and all the Infernal Deities. You may guests how pleasant a sight it was to see so many miserable men grovelling in the Night, unenlightened by any Ray from Heaven, to give that Honour which is due alone to the Creator, to Creatures and Apostate Angels. Some worshipped the Heavens, with all their numerous Hosts the Stars: Some made the Sun their God; Others, their Paradise; praying to dwell in his 
* Civitas Solis. Campanello.  City, inhabit his Light: The pale Queen of Night, the Moon, and the North-Star had their Adorers: (By the last they thought to be guided into the place of their Desires, and in the first a new World was created by some, which by others was made the Habitation of blessed Spirits:) Some also deified the very Elements, and accordingly chose to be buried in the Earth, burned in the Fire, drowned in the Water, or hanged in the Air. We could see a wretched Prince mangling himself, fall down before an Idol that sat on a fiery Throne, a Monster crested with four Horns, and crowned with three Crowns. Hither also Pilgrims resorting stabbed themselves with Knives: These threw pieces of its cut Flesh into its Face, that was horribly bedaubed with humane Blood: Others desired to be crushed to death by the Chariot-wheels; and Women sticked not to prostitute their Bodies for the Idols maintenance. It was a very sad Spectacle to behold all their barbarous Sacrifices, their fordid, base, and cruel Gods; greedy, murderous, insatiable, Bloodsucking Devils. The Religion (alas) of so many consisted not in any thing else, but Howling and Dancing, Singing, Feasting, and Slashing themselves. Not altogether so ridiculous I think as these last, were those in another large Field, who prayed to the first thing they met with that morning, to an Ass or a Goose, a Whelp or a Kitling, a Marmoset or Jackanapes; and so with every new Morn had a new God. The Birds and the Fishes, Trees and Strawen Gods were sacrificed unto: The very tops of the Hills were fed with Meat and Drink; nor much unlike were those who feasted their dead Friends with Bread and boiled Flesh, washed, painted, and new-clothed them, prayed to them in white Garments, and sent along with them Provision for several years Travel. Next we observed great Troops to pay such Devotion unto one of those Rivers supposed to have sprung from the Terrestrial Paradise, as if by its virtue alone they were little less than sure to regain the same. So others also washing in a Well, thought therein to cleanse their sins, and carried away its Sand as sacred Relics. Besides these, there were Idolaters that believed not one but many Paradises, unto which every peculiar God was to lead his Worshippers. But with their own they were so in love, as to drown and stab themselves, to fast and pray themselves to death, and run with gladness to be cast down from high Precipices by their Gogins; (men truly I think not disguised like, but rather very Devils.) At this, O God (said the pious Theosophus) when will be the Fullness of the Gentiles?  
II. After these, whose blind Superstition had taught them to fear a burning Pit towards the West, and pray that they might be carried beyond the Mountains into Pleasant Gardens, there to dance and rejoice with their Forefathers; we marked the no less besotted Followers of Mahumed, the victorious Antichrist, going a Pilgrimage to Mecca. We had time to view their several hypocritical and impious Orders, and hear rehearsed the absurd ridiculous Tenets of their Law.  
III. When we had long enough observed them, we turned our eyes upon numberless Caravans of Pilgrims, infinite petty divided Sects together by the ears, bickering and fight very hotly; all closely overruled by a Necromancer sitting in the Infallible Chair. Amongst whom were Genevesians, Munzerians, and Dippers, Catharists also, such as would not pray, Forgive us our Trespasses. Some went naked, naming this the State of Innocence, and their Meetings, Paradise. There was the Family of Love, the Brethren of the Mountains, of the Valleys, of the scattered Flock, the Seekers, the Ranters, the Soul-sleepers, and the mad senseless Shaking Fraternity, hammered out (as my Atheo Humoroso told us, and proved from Authentic History) by the busy working Ignatians; all zealously contending for the Victory. Some there were who professed no other Duty but Prayer, and others but Silence; a third sort would enjoy no earthly thing, a fourth said the things of the Earth to be the Lords, and consequently theirs; a fifth bragged of Revelations, a sixth of Miracles, a seventh rejected all means, stood still relying upon God, but an eighth trusted wholly on them, thought by his Righteousness to climb up into Heaven, whilst the other would not stir one foot of the way. Others denied the Divinity of the ever-blessed Jesus, led by Socinus of Sienna: Millenaries brought him down from Heaven to reign upon Earth: Some mad Cabalistical Brains would have no Christ but Holiness, would have his Virgin Mother to be Love, his Paradise to be Virtue, and its four Rivers to be Justice, Prudence, Temperance and Fortitude; so turning all Religion into an Allegory: Even the devilish Theauro John, and the most blasphemous Enthusiasts, had their Followers. But now some held all these Religions (or rather Frenzies of a distempered head) to be true; all Pilgrims to be in the right Way, and not one to be in the wrong; and that to think, was enough to make, themselves secure: Some would be of the Religion of the Conqueror, of the strongest side, and whensoever he was outed, than they tacked about to another: Others wandered so long from this Path into that, from Party to Party, and Religion to Religion; till at last they came to be of none at all.  
Seeing one separate himself from all these, we enquired of him what was his Faith? who giving us a proud look over his shoulders, told us he was a Philosopher. At this I wondered much: For I never thought a Philosopher (such an one as this) was of any. For how can he be of any Faith, who counts it his Privilege to throw it off; or else to make it truckle under his Reason, and whatsoever he is pleased to give that name to, though it be never so unreasonable? Wherefore for confirmation in this lewd course of life, in which I was so deeply now engaged, I used to hear the shallow Disputes of such Naturalists, the rigid Requirers of Reason in things above it; and even against that Reason which to themselves they so proudly arrogate. These corrupt Philosophers reckon it a greater Honour the being denominated from Aristotle or Des Cartes, than Christ himself: had rather wear the Badge of a found Plato or a learned Epicurus, than of the humble and the holy Jesus: and think Julian's Reproach of Galileans highly honourable; if so be the Disciples (not of a crucified Saviour, but) of a Galileo, be thereby meant.  
But what, I pray, is theirs out yonder? (said I, than first spying a great company of Religious, marching in another Road.) Interest, answered one. Then again I asked, observing them to take the most pains of any, for what they did and suffered so much? For their Interest, said the same person smiling. And next, Whither were they travelling? Whithersoever Interest (said he) leads: and where else do you think that is, but to the Devil?  
Many of us need not have been advised which of all these Ways to choose; for the Devil of Gain (though indeed the most pernicious and troublesome one in all the Squadrons of Ghe-Hinnom) seemed to be a very sociable, a very desirable Devil. And therefore forthwith they fling themselves into Mammon's Caussey, (so it was called) trotting on, as fast as ever they could go, Helwards.  
As for my part, I presently took the Way of Indifference; not much professing any side. The rest that were left made Liberty of Conscience their Religion. Only he that brought us, (I mean my mad Humorist) so shifted from the one to the other, and dexterously disguised himself among them, with both feigned tone and looks; that after some while we, much against our Wills, lost the sport of him.  
Afterwards in my Travels I met him alone, being sat down to rest himself very melancholy. Stay a little, Tim (said he to me) you never heard me speak a true word in my life to you, but now you shall. We are in a sad case, we are not now many miles from the Flaming Tophet. God bless me, said I, thereat startled; but did not you tell me there was no such place? I did, says he, and so did the Philosopher my Friend, but we could not believe so ourselves. I told you that we were nothing but Matter and Motion, and that it was a Contradiction to say there can be a Substance which is not material: that consequently there could be no such part within you that can exist without a Body, and that whatsoever is not Body, is Nothing. But if you and I were nothing but Matter and Motion, we should be but pretty odd kind of Puppets. For turn and move, condense and rarify Matter how you please, I believe you will be scarce able to make it sensible. Suppose you could outdo Architas his Dove, with the Eagle and the Fly of the Germane Artist; suppose you could make humane Images to speak, artificial Birds not only to fly, but also sing, Serpents to hiss, and Dogs to bark and by't; Do you think it possible, if by your Art you could do all this, to ever make them see or hear, to make them eat, and digest what they eat, to feel, and smell, and taste? It is wholly unconceivable how any thing should be made sensible by Springs. But I told you fine subtle Matter will do strange things: therefore I tell you now, that let Matter be never so thin, it is still Matter; nor is Fire any more capable of Sense than Lead is. Now though it be never so absurd, suppose that Matter is not altogether insensible, and that a Board may be made to perceive as well as a Man, or (what a profoundly learned Atheist said) that a Clock or a Jack are as much Animals as We are; yet do you think that if it could increase and grow, and were sensible, it would therefore discourse, and think, and invent, and recollect, and fancy? If you do, I will not say you are a mad man, but such an one is the Atheist, and worse: For he believes that all this came to pass (not by any Art, but) by Chance, by the wild jumbling of Atoms together. I do not ask him who put this Matter into motion, but surely some body must; for Matter can never put itself into motion. I tell you, there is no Absurdity so great that he who once sets up for Libertinism must balk at, so he can rank himself among the Beasts that perish. Do you blind yourself first, and I shall be ready then to prove to you, that that glorious Planet which now heatens us with his Rays, is not seen by any, and is a mere Fiction of the Astronomers; with as much ease, as that his Author is the Device and Phantom of the Spiritual Guides. He that has seen but the structure of an Eye, or any other, or all the parts together, and remains an Atheist, is resolved to remain so. But (according to the Lucretian or Epicurean Doctrine) you will say, all this Variety, Aptness, and Symmetry of Parts proceeds from the Seeds of the things. An Answer unbecoming a Philosopher, and altogether as ridiculous as the occult Qualities of the old Aristotelians. For whence have these Seeds that virtue? is it from their Figure or Contexture of Parts? Here we are silent. Besides, it has been proved by a learned Author, that the Matter of the Seed enters not into the composition of the Body. We cannot, with all our bustle, tell why an invisible point in the Egg should grow up into a Chick, and why not as well into a Calf. We can say it is from the Seed or some plastic Virtue in it, from its Fitness or from its Nature; and then we think we have given a very Philosophical Account. This is so far from disproving an alwise Author, that it rather proves him to be. For what can be more admirable, than that in so small an Atom so small a part of the Seed, should lie hid the power of Life and Vegetation, and all the Organs and Parts of a Plant, or a Tree, or an Animal. This seems to me a Convincing Proof that there is an Author of Nature, and that Nature is nothing but the Art of God. There are curious Microscopes that will show you enough in a Fly, to make you admire the Deity; and discover to you the beauty, the evenness, and smoothness of Contexture in the meanest Works of Nature, a Leaf or Flower; and the roughness and craggedness of the finest artificial things. He that sees contained in a Cubick Inch many hundred thousand little Animals, having all their exact Parts and perfect Life in them, must be very stupid if he can attribute this to any but a most powerful and expert Artist. He that looks up upon those many vast Orbs scattered in the Heavens, and by the help of his Glasses can descry innumerable more, would be very inconsiderate if he should conclude them the effect of sole Mechanism, and fortuitous justling of an uncreated eternal Chaos. There is a Quere not much less than two thousand years ago put to us, which notwithstanding all our study, we have not yet learned to baffle; and that is, If all this could be done by Atoms▪ why might not Atoms build an House or a Temple, which are far more easy? I tell you truly, you may as well think that Book of God (which those poor Pilgrims yonder in the Narrow Way pay such a just Veneration unto) to be made only by the concourse of Letters ranging themselves into such an Order, and never to have been dictated or written by any: I say, you may as well believe this, as that this other Book of God, the vast Volume of Nature, (which so justly deserves our Admiration) was not made by an Intelligent Author. You may believe this if you please, and then you are fit to believe any thing, so you may not believe there is a God, and that you have a Soul to forfeit to him. You may believe that Atoms can rig out a Fleet of Ships, and build the City as well as make the Men that inhabit it. For how inconsiderable is this, to the Mass of the whole Earth, and its Inhabitants? Yet the Earth is held to be scarce a Physical point, if compared to the rest of the Universe. But though it be never so demonstratively proved that there is a God, yet there are some few (whom you and I know) that, if they cannot comprehend him, think they may lawfully doubt whether he is, or not. As if the most perfect Essence should be comprehensible to such Worms as us: more justly might Beetles think to comprehend what we are. Have patience a little, and I will show you how foolish an Evasion this is. I am now very much upon the supposing: Suppose therefore again, that you were born blind, and knew not what sight was, how should you be able to conceive what Colour is? Suppose also you had never been able to smell, how could you have been made to apprehend the odours of a Rose or of Jessamine? I will bid you once more suppose yourself naturally deaf, tell me how could you paint in your fancy a Concert of Music? Yet I judge there is the same reason why our imperfect and corporalized Intellect cannot comprehend what Spirit is. Nor is it to be wondered at, that whatsoever is Spiritual is above our comprehension: the commonest and ordinariest things in Nature, are almost as unintelligible and hard to unravel, as many things in Faith that put weak heads to a stand. But those whom the formation and colour but of an Hair would be enough to puzzle, think if they cannot understand the nature of their Soul, they may deny that it exists: And though Philosophy cannot give a satisfactory account even of Body, end determine of what it consists, whether Divisibles or Indivisibles; yet they look that Theology should give a better account of Spirit. He who because he could not solve all the Difficulties, denied there was any such thing as Motion in the World, erred quite as pardonably as he that upon the same reason can deny a Deity, or an immaterial Being. There are undeniable and demonstrated truths in the Mathematics themselves, [such as, that there may be an Angle which cannot be divided; that the two Squares of the two sides of a Triangle are equal to the square of the Base; that the Centre and the Circumference can be the same; that two Parallellograms upon the same or equal Base, and within the same Parallels, though one be drawn out a thousand times, or infinitely the length of the other, are yet both equal:] that are not much more comprehensible than the greatest Mysteries in Religion. You may believe me, I have found as much Demonstrativeness in the Principles of Religion, as in the rigid Science of Geometry; though not of the same kind: for that would be as ridiculous, as if one by drawing Lines and Triangles should go to demonstrate that Julius Caesar lived so many hundred years ago, or use Circles to prove that a Bird is born out of an Egg. And I myself have laughed as hearty at the old Philosophic Poet, when he persuades his Memmius that the Mind consists of little round Seeds, as when he would prove the Sun to be no bigger than it appears. That there is such diversity of Opinions, although I urged it so much, it proves no more against Religion, than it does against Philosophy: and will serve for quite as good an Argument against us, that there are malignant fallen Spirits which cause these Differences, as that these Differences about the Way should prove there is no Paradise. Since therefore such solid and self-evident Truth is on God's side, we do foolishly to be imposed upon by Quibbles, (though never so ingenious ones.) For if there is a God, he must be just; and if he is just, there must be a Tophet: so firm is that Conclusion of the wise Heathen, that either there is no God, or else there is a Punishment for the Wicked after life. Here I interrupted him, and said, I never thought before that you could preach: come, answer me but this Objection, and I will get you Preferment. If this is true that you frighten me with about Tophet, what will become of those mad Beasts that kill men, break down Hedges, steal Sheep, are cruel, or are lascivious? Methinks they deserve an Hell as much as us. And since 'tis agreed that they have no part which supervives the Body, why should it not be with us, as it is with them? Answer me; I believe this gravels you. Nothing perchance (said he) in all Natural Philosophy is obscurer than what concerns the nature of Brutes: Were this certainly and clearly known, it is likely that your Quere would appear of small force. However, it is plain, there is difference enough betwixt our Souls and theirs. For they cannot understand, like us, what Law or Justice is; are not touched with any sense of Good or Evil, Virtue or Vice; they are not capable to know what Faith or Religion is; to reflect upon, and search into their own nature, or the nature of any thing else; and cannot comprehend in their Brain an easy and demonstrated Axiom, but only know what concerns them. Now to search out whence proceeds this Difference, if you would look into every part about you, every little corner and repository of the Brain, see it 
* Willis Cerebri Anatom. p. 4. & p. 66.  anatomised, you will find it to be almost the same with theirs; whence by natural consequence it follows, that part by which we differ from them is purely spiritual, and has not the least cognation with Matter; else (our Brain being formed like theirs) it were impossible for us to produce Operations different from theirs. Hence it also follows, that we and they ought not to be alike accountable for what we do. For whereas it would be absurd to think that they, who are uncapable of acting either what is vicious or virtuous, should be condemned or rewarded; so would it be equally absurd (the reasons being just contrary) to think otherwise of us: and though there is no reason why those, who cannot fear or hope for the Torments and Joys of another State, should go up into the Garden of Pleasure, or down into the Vale of Lamentation; there is not the less, but the more reason why we, who can, should go the one way or the other. Thus you see the weight of your mighty Argument: and I shall look that you fulfil your Promise. But this is not all; for those mad Beasts you speak of, if they commit any offence they are subject to Man, and liable to be punished by him; and is it reasonable, think you, that Man, (who is of a more understanding nature) should not be under the Cognizance and Judicature of a superior Being? You asked me to answer you one Objection; but now that is gone, I long (dear Boy) to be dealing with another. You may remember that I have told you since we met upon this Road, that the Soul grows up and decays with the Body, is infirm in Infants, strong in Men, and after that decreases in Age; has its Diseases as well as the Body, is disordered by Drunkenness, is raving with Frenzy, is numbed and stupefied in a Lethargy, and dead almost in a Swoon. I remember you have, (said I) and in my mind it is an unanswerable Argument: I was thinking to have put it to you at first, but it is as well now: Sure this will pose you, if any thing can. Confess you are baffled; for it clearly proves that Souls are mortal, yea as much as Sickness can prove Bodies to be so. Stop a little (said the melancholy Libertine) I am afraid we shall find it otherwise. Methinks, notwithstanding you can triumph so, you might easily see through the frivolous weakness of this Objection. The Body may be compared to a Musical Instrument, and the Soul to an expert Musician: Now if the Instrument is out of tune, if the Strings be too weak as in Infancy, or rotten and decayed as in old Age; if they are lose, or strung false, or any of them broke; do you think the Musician (though he strike never so skilfully) can make as good Harmony as if it were well-tuned, and the Strings in no fault? This is the reason also why those of an hot Brain are ingenious, and those of a cold are not; because the Soul cannot so briskly exert herself upon a frigid unactive Brain, as she can upon one that is well prepared, unclogged and unstopped. Those that are very cold are Naturals, because in them She is totally or almost hindered from acting: those that are very hot are Frantic, because She is disturbed in acting. This will answer all such kind of Objections, if you have twenty more of them. But pray, the next man that you see ride upon a foundered Horse, go to him, and persuade him that he himself is foundered, and not the Horse: or if the Horse is old, tell the Rider it is his own Age and not his Horses that makes him unable to go faster. When he had ended, I said to him, Who thought that you could dispute so well against your own Principles? Presently after which, I was more startled than ever I was in my life, to hear him say, Come, let us make haste to our Journeys end. For I verily thought he was about to turn back; but I found I was mistaken. I thought however, I might venture along, as well as he. He said, he believed we should now get thither within a few days. Though we made as much haste as we could, we had not gone far before he fell down dead. This was in a drunken merry Fit, soon after he had shaken off his pensive and serious Thoughts. God bless me! how I shiver at the remembrance of him? Here I leave him: hereafter I shall come to tell you where I met him again. This Accident chilled my Spirits, and made me (for a while) go a softer pace, though I still continued on, thinking it too late to return home.  
I no sooner began to mend a little my pace, when I was pushed forward by one, the beginning of the words of whose mouth I found to be Foolishness, and the latter end of his mouth to be wicked Madness, Eccles. 10. 13. While on this hand of me went a Whore wantoning, and on that hand a Pharisaical Guide more demurely stalking, and Theologizing with an uncouth Gravity; both (not unlike the twin-Offspring of Agurs Horseleech, Prov. 30. 15.) continually crying, Give, give. The last had from the Serpent (that old Impostor) learned this single Cunning, viz. to deceive the Woman; whom commonly he first sets upon and studies to pervert. He snared always the Woman, that he might catch the Man: Her if he could but seduce into his Way, the Husband he was cocksure would follow after his seduced Wife, and the Children after their seduced Mother. This Reverend Impostor was tumultuously compassed round by the Giddy Rabble, who cried up his Nonsense for Gospel, and those Doctrines in which was Death, (yea though in never so plain legible Characters, there was written on them the Curse, Thou shalt die the Death) for Soulsaving ones. Amongst these was a poor paltry Fellow, who had somewhat in him, I know not what it was, which he named Conscience, (for Conscience it was not) that could unhinge Governments, overthrow States, and tumble down Sceptres and Crowns; that so all being turned topsy-turvy, the first last, and the last first, he might be advanced to the top. With him joined such as were of Levelling Principles, and such as were any whit discontented, setting up the Standart of Reformation.  
A little further I met with a acquaint Controvertist, (in the Rear of these RELIGIONS) who bandied all this about, and even raised Objections by his answering them: As also a sly Favourite, who had learned (from him) how to make his Praises to be Accusations, and by putting off Doubts to bring Doubts into one's head. I had the company afterwards of a rich old Chuf, who having read that the Glod of the Land of Havilah was good, came this way to seek out Paradise.  
Having traveled thus far, such was the effect of the Air and of our Travel, that now every one became lightheaded. Also the Ways which before did seem curiously laid with Terrace, and the rich sorts of Cement, now appeared to be paved with dead men's Sculls. And though we now began to view the blazes of the Fire, yet one would have persuaded us, that it was only a glimpse of the Celestial Light, and that we were not far from the bright Mansions of the East, from o●… delightful Eden placed near the Sunrising.  
Some of us were willing to believe 〈◊〉; and some to believe that all things were made and governed by Chance: which Supposition being hard to maintain, others holding a fatal Necessity, said they did not go, but were carried. The Presumptuous thought he continued on as fast or faster than any of us, still cried, God was merciful, and he should at last arrive at Paradise. But the Desperate leaping into the Gulf of Flames, (which we now plainly saw) said it was impossible for him to do otherwise, or to avoid the same by running back.  
No Tongue can express the Horrors and the Pangs that I already endured. Whereupon I stepped a little out of the Road to ease my Grief. But being unable to move far, I fell down, expecting there I should die. I could discern that they were Baboons and Monsters in the shape of Men, with whom I had all this while conversed: could see the Devils preparing their Torments, and ready to fetch away my Soul. Then first opening a Book which I had hitherto kept, that was given me by my forgotten Friend Theosophus, I began to read; but Despair and dreadful Dismayedness of Mind closed up mine Eyes in an horrible affrighting Sleep.   

CHAP. XIV.  
The VISION of Tophet.  
I Remember to have somewhere read a very remarkable Story of a melancholy Pilgrim, in the first Ages of this Institution, who having seen HELL but in a Dream, said he would rather choose to suffer a thousand Deaths, than see the same again, or for one half hour more, the short turn of a Glass, feel what he had felt. And such effects had this (saith the Historian) upon him, that of a debauched lewd Liver, he became the greatest Saint, the most resolute Professor of Christ; and immediately separated from the World, putting on such Weeds as this poor wellmeaning Tract would fain clothe its Pilgrim-Reader in. I do most hearty wish (O that Wishes were not vain! that what the brave Timotheus in the same case hath seen, may, as on him it did, so (which he prayed for all the days of his Pilgrimage with unutterable Groans) on all those to whom the Relation thereof ever cometh, work the like effect. O that hereby I could frighten the stupid out of his Lethargy of Sin, and rouse him up into a sense of his Condition! O that if such an one shall turn over these leaves, he would sit down and consider a while to what place he is travelling, ask himself whether he can dwell with Everlasting Burn! That he would do so much, if not out of Religion, yet out of Prudence; lest he come to feel the same at long run, not in Vision, but Reality: greater too perhaps than this, and far beyond all Hyperboles of Pain.  
My Sleep was such (said the noble and truly pious Convert) as I verily believed it to be Death; and a Devil (I thought) taking me up with his Claws, carried me toward the Burning Lake. Which, as I drew near, appeared to me to be bounded with seven high Banks of solid and unconsumed Fire; and on a spacious sevenfold Gate of rocky and impenetrable Adamant, which opened to us of its own accord, I read (with a sorrowful cast of mine Eyes) these words: TOPHET IS ORDAINED OF OLD; YEA FOR THE WICKED IT IS PREPARED; HE HATH MADE IT LARGE AND DEEP: THE PILE THEREOF IS MUCH FIRE, AND MUCH FVEL; THE BREATH OF THE LORD LIKE A STREAM OF BRIMSTONE, DOTH ENKINDLE IT. Isai. c. 30. v. 33.  
As soon as I was entered I heard a Voice, like the Voice of Thunder, and the Voice of many Waters, saying, KEEP THESE SOULS' BOND IN CHAINS OF DARKNESS UNTIL THE GREAT AUDIT OF THE LORD: and another, LET HOT BURNING COALS FALL UPON THEM, LET THEM BE CASTANNA INTO THE FIRE, AND INTO THE PIT, THAT THEY NEVER RISE UP AGAIN. And looking back, I saw great Multitudes behind me, rushing in at the Gate, who were bound presently, and cast into the Lake.  
A wild Wast methought it was of inextinguishable Sulphur and Naphtha; whereon, as far as ever I could ken, lay rolling hopeless Peoples and Nations, that striving to blow it out, made it burn the more, and kept it burning. Whence intolerable Smoke, with gloomy Flakes of unlightsome flame were scattered upwards, and darkened round the wide Coast. There are perhaps some subtle Wits, who will say 'tis impossible for Flame not to be light: but let them subtilise as they please, before they know the nature of this Flame, they are not very competent Judges. It was, I remember, every where so black and dismal a Night, as plagued Egypt sure felt not: such a Night as could not be brooded even on the face of Chaos: an obscure, a smart, a boundless, and a never-ending. (I concluded) Night; palpable almost to the Touch. But how vain am I, that I strive to describe it! For it was greater far than I can express to you; nay, certainly than any one can dread, or Poetic Phantasy imagine. Which yet was rendered more terrible (if any thing possibly could add to such Terror) by flashes of Lightning breaking it, and horrid Shapes that continually passed through the thick substantial Darkness. By those dreadful gleams of Light I could discern sooty deformed Ghosts every moment flying by me; and sundry black Fiendlike Spirits Thunderstruck, falling down into the Fiery Gulf.  
Most hideous and astonishing was the Din of loud piercing Yells and Screams insupportable to the Ear, stubborn Lamentations and Doglike Howl, Cracks of Thunder, Hisses of Serpents, Gnashing of Teeth, the Clicking of Chains and Rods, Crackling of Flames, the profane Execrations and Curse of the hateful Crew, their roaring Oaths and clamorous Janglings, and the universal Clatter and Bustle of these impatient Malefactors groaning under the Mass of their Woe: a most deplorable Jargon of all Tongues, and a Babel of miserable Plaints; besides all those Voices that the malicious Wits of Devils could invent, wherewith to terrify and startle their Prisoners.  
No soft harmonious Music was here, no pleasant Scenes, nor odorous aromatic Smells to entertain the effeminate Wretches. Can you fancy a Stink ten thousand times more malignant than that of Brimstone, than the most fetid Exhalations of all sorts, and the strong Damps of Mephitis, Arsenical Vapours and Winds of Smoke: more intolerable than the Nuisance of a Draught or a Common Shore, than of the Devil of Pentsch in Silesia; than the Air of a Pest-house or a Lazaretto, the Nastiness of a Dungeon, the Corruption of Waters that stagnate, the steams of poisonous Fens and Lakes over which Birds flying fall down dead, the deadliest Fumes, the rankest Scents of ill-scented Animals, pestilential Herbs and Drugs, all unwholesome or lethiferous Smells, the Putrefaction of wormy Flesh, and the Muck of rotting Carcases; yet all would be much short of this damnable Stench here in Tophet, against which so many foolish living Wights perfume themselves.  
Keeping therefore upon wing. I flew (methoughts) many thousand Leagues over flaming Mountains and Rivers, and Seas of sad Despair; while I could not avoid meeting a thousand thousand several Horrors on every side of me: Many a rich Glutton I saw rolling in the streams of liquid Sulphurs, who wished they had Worlds to give for one drop of Water to cool their Tongues: Myriad of wicked Angels and wicked Souls I saw bathing themselves, and delighting to bathe others, in the Flames.—  
They were both ready to sink to the ground, which made him here break off abruptly. But it is impossible (said he, as the Father was fainting) for me to recount the Torments and Terrors of this Gloomy Prospect: nor do I care to fill your ears too long (which I am afraid yet I have already done) with such terrifying Relations as these. A more particular Enumeration of what I saw, will serve for another Melancholy Discourse; as, whatsoever I dreamt concerning the Inhabitants of Sodom, Jezabel, Iscariot, Herod, Simon Magus, Nero, Mahomet, and their peculiar and appropriate Tortures, as likewise theirs with whom on the Road I came acquainted; concerning also the Book of Death, the Dungeon of Diseases, the Cataracts and Whirlwinds of Fire, the Consults of Lucifer and his Peers about the Subversion of the Anglican Church, the uneasy and restless Disports of the Devils, the Hellishness of Vice, whence every one was made his own Executioner to kill and torment himself, and how Tophet is not only the Punishment of sin, but that sin naturally sets it on fire; and many other things which I dreamed of, that may deserve in their place to be remembered.  
Now as the Fiends (methoughts) were preparing to bind me, and as I was a dropping down apace, a glorious heavenly Youth catched me. At which I awaked; when I found at my head my dear Monitor Eubulus, that at my first entrance into the Road, and several times afterward, warned me of this. He snatched me away hastily. So I followed him; but not without looking back: And were God so severe as to mark what is done amiss, I should even then (with 
* Judas v. 7.  Lot's Wife, leaving the Cities Plagued with the Vengeance of eternal Fire) have been made an everlasting Monument of this.  
We opportunely met with an old man called Eusebius, who directed us to your Lodge. But as we were in sight of this tuft of Trees, I was torn away from my Eubulus, by my Companions that I had left in the Broad Road; who as soon as they discovered my Flight, came thus far in pursuit after me. These were they who then putting on the Visors of Religion, left me in that woeful Plight, in which you, my dearest Father, found me. Next after God, to you I own this Breath: I own to you my Self, my Life, or if any thing can be dearer to me than my Self or my Life.  
He had scarce made an end, before Orthodoxus came to inquire after Eubulus. To him, after a short stay, Theosophus committed his young Pilgrim; himself tarrying behind for others that were to come after. From whom young Timotheus having first received some Directions (which for that they were almost the same that another worthy Guide has given his Philotheus, I omit) and charged not to departed from Orthodoxus, they both went in quest of their Friends and their eternal Happiness, the Paradise of Blessed Souls. I shall leave them travelling thither, until I can get leisure to put the next Part of the History into order.   
FINIS.   

ERRATA.  
Pag. Lin. Err. Corr. 5 10 Merg. suam, sum. 13 17 for Pontamus, Pontanus. 34 29 than by any, than any. 35 19 Diceus, Dicaeus.  20 Spudeus, Spudaeus. 55 27 pretty, petty. 58 20 Temple, Tempe. 68 17 Shione, Chione. 83 26 tardy, to die. 84 2 pulling, puling. 86 7 with them to, with, to. 97 15 weared, wearied. 99 8 Sorrowfully painful, sorrowfully tureful. 106 11 best, blest. 107 28 had, have. 117 19 spit on, spat on. 123 13 Rottenness, Rotteness. 153 10 pursuse, pursue. 154 14 of the, of that. 160 9 feedeth in, feedeth me in. 170 1 gread, Great. 172 5 set, set aright. 174 29 Areteus, Aretaeus. 193 16 own, owe. 200 18 one, me. 201 27 that could; that I could.